#cross fo3

Butch:

He’d flirted with them before… only, even he hadn’t really known that that’s what it was. His mom often said he liked them, and other adults commented similarly when Lone and him were kids, but he’d always made disgusted faces, retching noises or flipped the people off that tried to tell him he liked Lone. Of all people, Lone?! No, not Butch. He bullied them, he disliked them, if anything. 

At least, then, that’s what he believed. Now though, Butch knew the truth, and he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been all along. He plans to make up for lost time, to correct those little errors of his from the past. Butch has a short lifetime of flirting under his belt, and he means to put all that experience to good use. 

Just need to find the right time. Can’t do it out of the blue, not with Lone, can’t risk something like that. Has to be all romantic an’ shit…

–

“See anything you like?” Butch wiggled his eyebrows as Lone’s blurry form swam into focus. “You’re… awfully close to me, baby.” 

“Butch?” They mumbled, and he noticed that their eyes were closed. He’d thought they’d been staring at him, but their eyes were closed.

Just my luck…

“Butch, you’re awake?” Lone nearly jumped out of their seat as their blinking eyes widened in shock. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel great, baby. How’re you?” 

Their brows furrowed quickly, confusion warping their concerned features. 

“You were hurt, Butch. A car, some raiders… It exploded and you passed out, lost some blood, you… I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up. The doctor said you might not.” 

Butch’s foggy mind began to clear, a headache began to form at the front of his skull, and the aches in his body became more and more pronounced with each word that left his companion's mouth. 

…I what? 

“Lone, only blood I loss was because you pierced my heart.” 

That one sounded good, right? That one should really drop the hint to ‘em. 

Butch grinned at the thought. 

“Oh, Butch…” They reached out a hand, tentatively reaching for his forehead and brushing away a few strands of hair. “You’re still coming out of it, huh? Just rest, okay?”

A new determination burned through his aching joints, his battered body. At the feel of Lone’s tender touch, at the realization of their obliviousness to his, frankly obvious, feelings, Butch tried again. 

“Can’t rest. Not now baby. Not ‘till you’re mine. Not ‘till you see it… See the way I feel.”

He tried to get up, to emphasize his point, but his arms could hardly move. The blanket that was stretched over his half-bare body felt like sandpaper over his burned and blistered flesh, and his muscles roared in painful protest at every movement. 

A groan left him at the sudden pain of it. 

“Butch, no, easy.” Lone’s hands gently encouraged him to stay down, and their eyes shone with sympathy that made his chest ache from more than his wounds. “You must be half delirious to be saying all this, but… don’t try to get up, okay? Just try and rest.” 

He wanted to listen to them, wanted to do what his partner asked, wanted to please them that way, but he needed Lone to know. 

It’s been too long. Maybe this deliriousness is what I needed. 

Shoulda tried this earlier.

“Lone, no. You gotta understand-”

“Butch, shh.” They laid a finger over his lips as their other hand stroked over his shoulder. “There’s time. You can tell me everything soon. I want to hear it, okay? Trust me, I do. But now, please… just rest for me. Work on healing, just for a little while. Then you can tell me how you feel.”

Butch’s eyes closed without his permission, their sweet words lulling him back to blissful unconsciousness as their hand continued it’s soothing stroking over a bit of unmarred skin on his arm.   

“And then,” He heard, just as he felt sleep wrapping him in its embrace, “Then I can tell you how I feel, too.” 

The last thing he could recall was a simple touch. In reality, it was faint, but to Butch, their lips upon his forehead felt like a heavy crash, an avalanche of weight poured over him that left nothing in its wake but the possibilities. For his future, and for theirs. 

Charon:

“Wait.” A large, calloused hand grasped at Lone’s shoulder as they made a move to step out from behind the pillar. “I’ll go first.” Charon’s rough voice sounded close to their ear as his hand stayed firmly on them, encouraging their form to move back behind cover once more.

“Why? Did you hear something?”

Charon paused at his companion’s inquiry. Did they think it was odd that he took precautions? That was his job, wasn’t it? It was in his contract...

But we both know I don’t always follow every little rule the paper alludes to in the finer print.

The ghoul cleared his throat, retracting his hand from Lone’s shoulder as he moved to step in front of them, pointedly avoiding their gaze as he thought through what he should say.

Charon didn’t ever recall being so concerned for his employer’s safety before. In fact, it was more likely he would do the bare minimum that was required to keep them from being blown to bits or falling off a cliff than it was for him to go out of his way to ensure their safety of his own accord. He had to follow orders, had to step in harm’s way, should it suddenly become clear to him that they would be injured or killed if he didn’t do so, and… That was it. The contract never mentioned the careful thought process he now went through each time the pair entered into a potentially dangerous situation. Nowhere in the paper did it say that his heart would need to flutter with anxiety when his companion was in danger, or that his body should flush with the heat of anger when a bullet did happen to graze them. The contract never told him to remain up all through the night, poised and ready for an unexpected attack, or lie awake in Lone’s dim room, his mind fraught with worry for the next day.

Yet, here he was. Doing all of that. When the hell had all this happened?

Charon tried to convince himself that it was only due to Lone’s kindness, to their low-maintenance in comparison to the likes of his previous employers. He tried to tell himself that the only reason he didn’t want them dead was because then he’d be saddled with some other asshole he had to answer to, but Charon knew deep down that that was bullshit. Even when his employers had been bearable, he’d never felt this strongly for them.

A moment of silence passed before Charon finally fixed his companion with his intense, icy gaze.

“No.” He said simply, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Their eyebrows scrunched together and Charon saw the question forming in their mind. Before they could even voice it, he replied.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

Clover:

“Sugar, you know I mean it when I tell you you look good, right?”

Clover always flirted, it was more of a personality trait than a conscious action at this point. It was just the way she was, the way she had been told to be, made to be for so many years that it just became a part of her. Now was different though, she always flirted without realizing it, but now… Well, she actively wanted to, and of course, of course Lone would be impervious to it. Did they really not notice? They almost seemed to ignore her little compliments, her teasing words and forward touches, and Clover does not like being ignored under any circumstance.

Finally, one day, she'd been driven to confront her companion about it.

“What’s your problem, huh? What’ve you got against me?” Clover finally burst out after the umpteenth time she’d said something sickly sweet that they’d just completely brushed off like a dead leaf on their jacket.

Look, she’d tried being subtle, she’d tried being low-key as much as the ex-slave could be, then she’d gotten more aggressive with her verbal affections, she’d gotten more direct with her lingering touches and her suggestive comments, but Sole seemed to just laugh off all of it, or worse, they’d pretend as if she didn’t do anything at all.

Clover was over it.

“Is it the way I look, huh?" She held her arms out wide, and Lone shrank back in response. "Is it cuz of my past, then? What, I been with too many folks for you to handle? What?”

“Clove,” Lone looked down at the floor in… what, embarrassment? Shame? It was hard to tell. “I didn’t realize–” 

“No, you look at me, sweetheart. Look me in the eye as you tell me what I don’t wanna hear.” 

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you, is all” Their gaze was sympathetic as it met her sizzling expression. 

“What?” 

“It’s like you said, about your past… I wasn’t sure if you, well, how you felt about me at all. Not when, your whole life, you’ve been forced to try and attract everyone around you, to be suggestive and touchy and I didn’t just want to be another asshole that only sees you as a piece of meat.” 

They wrung their hands with their confession, but their eyes stayed locked to hers, just like she'd asked. 

“Because I don’t. I… I like you, Clove.”

“You… Honest? You really do?” She took a step closer, her expression vastly changed from the flared nostrils and low brows she’d had before. Elation hung behind a thin curtain of disbelief. 

“Well, yeah. I just… Didn’t want you to think that’s why I bought your– well, you."

The word sounded so hollow, and Clover felt it like a pang in her chest. It wasn't often that she let her past hurt her this way. That wasn't a trend she could afford to start, but seeing the way it pained Lone to speak about...

"You don’t owe me anything." They continued somberly, "It’s as I said before, you’re free to go, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s not, sugar.” Clover shook her head as a poorly contained smile tugged at her full lips, as her hands went to either side of Lone's face, her thumbs brushing over their cheeks. “As I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya all this time… I want you.” 

She couldn't help all the flirting she did, both before, and after their conversation. Her past also made it hard for her to know which feelings of hers were truly real, as opposed to ones put in place in order to defend herself. Clover's still working all of that out, but just knowing... Understanding Lone's point of view, and hearing the genuine words leave them... It made the process of falling for someone easier than it's ever been before.

Cross:

“A very good shot. You must have exemplary eyesight, ma’am/sir.”

The action of flirting never came naturally to the Paladin. Obviously it wasn't high on her priority list when it came to skills she sought to perfect. If it were, her proficiency in other areas, with focuses on survival and combat prowess, surely would've suffered. But at this rate, she wished she could've had at least some form of training in the subtle art of wooing someone. Not just any someone, but Lone. Her companion, her friend, someone not in the Brotherhood, someone who wouldn't cause her to break decorum if she were to be with them.

It was a strange sensation, knowing that she had feelings for Lone. She was rarely certain about these things, and she almost never caught feelings for anyone. Maintaining distance from those around you, remaining indifferent to people you spend inordinate amounts of time with, it's a burden every soldier had to bear if they hope to defend their hearts and minds from the brutality of sudden and bitter loss. And yet, here she was, catching feelings for a civilian.

Perfect.

Cross tried to ignore it for ages, but it only seemed to become more obvious the more she attempted to conceal it. She would stumble over her words, blush more, become embarrassed about certain uncivilized things soldiers shouldn't think twice about. Why did she have such a hard time asking Lone to halt when she has to… relieve herself? She's a damn Star Paladin for Christ's sake, taking a ten-one shouldn't effect her in such a way.

In the end, she would find herself utterly unable to keep from at least complimenting her companion on their combat skills, their abilities as a diplomat that she so admired, their compassion towards others, and even their athletic physique. Is it really flirting? Hopefully Lone thinks so, because this as much as the Paladin can seem to muster in the ways of wooing.

Fawkes:

“You are a good companion, and an even better friend. I am beyond fortunate to have you in my life, and if ever there is anything you need, I will be here.”

Fawkes isn't quite sure what all of these feelings mean. The way his stomach tingles, a smile involuntarily crinkles his eyes, how he feels so warm inside when he looks at his companion. Is it friendship? Friendship is strong, and he felt strongly towards Lone, that, he knew.

When it comes down to it, Fawkes has no idea what he's doing as he relentlessly compliments this incredible person beside him. He's simply honest with his companion. Fawkes thinks they're the bravest person he's met, they have a good sense of humor, a kind heart, and they gave him a chance when no one else would even think to. He's proud to call Lone his friend, and he doesn't hesitate to let everyone know.

The day he finds out that it's more than friendship that he feels for his companion, Fawkes becomes, well... quite shy. Though, he'd never want to waver in his compliments, as he believes in being genuine and would never feel embarrassed about telling Lone the truth, he'd be more careful with his word choice, and the comments would be less frequent. As he continues his assault of kind words, praise, and appreciation for his companion; he would be planning his confession to them. Lone deserved to know the way he felt, even if they didn't feel the same. He just had to tell them, because, if they did feel the same? It would change his whole world for the better.

Jericho:

"Fuck, kid. You're crazier than I am, heh."

No form of praise is light praise, when it comes to Jericho. The ex-raider has a sorta allergy to compliments, especially the genuine kind, but Lone, he likes.

So what if he tells 'em that they're nuts enough to run with him? He can eye them up when they make a great shot, or tell them they're a badass when they make some shit explode, check out their ass in those tight road leathers they like to wear. That doesn't mean nothing.

He's too old for any of that shit, anyway. No, Jericho outgrew the ability to have feelings for anyone when he was about 10 years old. An' his conquests back in his raider days had left him full enough for two lifetimes in terms of companionship.

Nah, Lone was just... They were alright. The first 'alright' vault dweller he's ever met, and the first person in ages that didn't make him wanna set off that bomb in Megaton's center and give them all a little peace.

It wasn't 'till his actions started reflecting those little glimpses of... whatever the fuck was going on with Lone, that he even realized he was acting out of character.

Sure, sharing ammunition and helping 'em scavenge enough scraps to fix up their armor, sewing up a wound while they gritted their teeth, and swapping food stores wasn't anything groundbreaking, but... Well, he's never done any of that shit with past traveling companions. Hell, he more so wished his past companions’ armor would fail so he could loot their corpse when they dropped, that they wouldn't notice the ammo he swiped from their pack at night, that their wound would fester and he could have a few more caps in his pocket when they didn't wake up from fevered sleep.

With Lone though... it went even further. Giving them first dibs on loot, offering to carry more of their shit, so they could have a lighter load, sharing a fucking cigarette with 'em. That shit was strange.

Cigs are like straight fucking gold to the ex-raider, and yet...

Shit...

Butch: 

Platonic:

“Doctor? Hey doc? Come on, get up. Get up, doc, we’ll get you out.” 

Butch would be just as desparate as his friend was to help James, to try and save him, to get the door open, to get him out, to keep him from–

“No… James... no. Lone, I-- I’m sorry.” 

The vaultie shook his head in disbelief. He’d known James his whole life. He'd given the poor man more than his fair share of grief, been reprimanded by him, gotten fixed up by him Butch didn’t know how many times, he even went to Lone's father for advice, with questions a time or two, even about Lone… The guy had finally started to come around to the idea of he and Lone bein’ friends after all those years of torment and bad feelings, and now… 

“Shit!” Butch kicked the glass in front of him, glaring through the transparent glossiness of his desperate tears at each of the bastards responsible for the death of his best friend’s father. He knew too well what it felt like to fear for your parent’s life, to think you’re gonna lose them, no matter what you do, but this… Lone’s actually gone and done it. Actually lost him. 

“Look man," he'd say softly, "I don’t know what to say. I’m... sorry. I’m sorry, Lone, that we couldn't save him. I’m sorry…” He let his apology trail off as they turned to him and buried their head in his shoulder. Then Butch felt the first tear fall to his cheek, and he bit his lip hard to keep the rest at bay. This isn’t what Lone needed. 

I’ve gotta be strong for them, like they was for me back in that vault.

“Don’t worry, okay? We’re gonna get these guys back for what they did. We’ll get ‘em back for this.” One hand came up to rub comfortingly at his friend’s back, and Butch pressed his cheek to the top of their head, just for a moment.

Just for a moment, then he planned to make good on his promise to Lone. To get those bastards back.

Romanced:

“Oh… Oh my god." 

Butch’s hand went to his mouth as he watched the doctor collapse to the ground, his ears ringing as he heard his partner cry out in despair. He couldn’t imagine their pain. If anyone knew how close Lone and James were, it was him. He’d known 'em both since... well, since birth, and to see them separated, to see the old doctor gone… He shook his head before he could get too wrapped up in it. 

Lone needs me this time, and I’ll be damned if I’m not there for them. 

"Lone, baby, come here, come on.”

Butch's hand reached out to gently pull them away from the glass and into his arms. He felt his partner shaking in his grasp, and he tried in vain to keep his own emotion from flowing down his cheeks as he lightly pressed his trembling lips to the top of their head.

“Baby, I’m so sorry this happened." He whispered, "But we… we gotta get outta here, m’kay? We gotta go, but I promise–” He pulled back to look into Lone's glistening eyes, their wetness mirroring his own.

“Look, I promise we’ll get these sons of bitches back for what they did. Now come on.” Grasping one hand tightly with theirs, while his other held firmly to the pistol in his hand, Butch took the lead out of the plant. Every few steps he cast a glance back their way, noting the way they just seemed to hold themself together, and he knew he had to keep that promise he made to them, to properly avenge the man they loved and admired so much, no matter what it cost. 

Charon:

Platonic:

“...” 

The ghoul just… doesn’t know what to say. He’s not used to having to comfort his employers– or his friends.

Though, Lone really is the first of their kind. Charon never had friends to comfort before. He supposes the least he can do is just make sure he can get Lone out of this unscathed. If he couldn't save their father, well... He had to try and save them.

He’ll approach his companion and stand close enough for them to feel his presence, feel the heat of his breath, feel the fact that he’s there, that they’re not alone, until they have the presence of mind to begin moving towards the exit. All the while they're making their escape, Charon will be close behind his companion, covering them and watching closely as he ensures his friend’s safety. 

He’s not sure what he’ll do once they're out of immediate danger. He won’t make moves to hug them, or anything of the sort, and it would hardly be worth it to try to give them a few short words of sympathy. But whatever they decide they need, at the very least, Charon will be there.

Romanced:

“Lone…”

He’s still not the absolute best at this whole relationship thing, or at comforting anyone particularly well. None of that was ever really in the job description for him, but for Lone… Dammit, Charon will try.

Moving slowly, thoughtfully, the ghoul would make his way to his companion, close enough to see the emotion glistening in their eyes, and he’d place a heavy hand on their shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” He’d rasp, unsure of what else to say. Charon knows he couldn’t have saved their father, James gave up his life willingly, for something he believed in. It was one of the more honorable acts Charon had witnessed in his long life, but that didn’t change the fact that he was gone, and Lone was here, wishing he wasn’t. And Charon really was sorry for that, so that’s what he chose to say. 

His whole body jolted as Lone turned to him, and fell into his chest, wrapping their arms up around his neck as they pulled him into a tight embrace. He would swallow hard, and feel his heart quicken anxiously, but he’d wrap his arms around his partner nonetheless.

In a moment, when Lone was ready, he’d help them out of here, get them to safety, as he’s meant to, contract or not, he would do that at the very least. But for now, he’d do something much less familiar to him, but still well within his capability. He’d hold Lone tight, he’d support them, let them hold onto him, and try and comfort his partner as best he can.  

Clover:

Platonic:

“Lone, sweetie, are you gonna be alright?” 

She’d place a tentative hand on her friend’s shoulder, trying to rouse them from their grief as the sound of gunshots echoed through the purification chamber, making her flinch unwittingly. 

“We’ve gotta get movin’, okay? We don’t wanna end up… Well, you know. Come on.” She didn’t know what to say, how to help them cope... Clover never really had a family of her own, how could she begin to empathize with her companion? All she could do now was look after her friend. They freed her, after all. Brought her into their life and outta the hell she came from all at once. Made her feel important to someone for once in her life. 

An’ their dad must’ve been real important to them…

“Sweetie, I’ll help you though this.” She told them earnestly, looking into their eyes as she began to pull them to the door. “But we gotta get outta here first, okay? I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta be strong for me alright? Let’s go.” 

Finally, that managed to do it. Lone’s eyes snapped into focus, and they surged forward to cover her as Clover went through the door.

She didn’t know what it was about her companion, but Lone brought out this soft side in her. A side she’d thought was snuffed out after all her time spent with Eulogy and the slavers, but with Lone… She didn’t have to put up a front, she didn’t have to act tough, or reserved; she could just be herself, and they appreciated her. Clover didn’t know when she would find someone like that again, if she ever would. She wasn’t about to lose them now, and when it comes down to it, she’ll do whatever it takes to help get Lone through this, and whatever comes after.

Romanced:

“Oh honey… C’mere.” 

She’d hold out her arms to her partner, pulling them close to her and stroking her hands over their shoulders and back soothingly, allowing them just a moment to be weak, to collapse into her and let their tears flow without hindrance. Clover knew how strong her partner was, knew that they would feel the need to hold their head up high and still their trembling lip as the world looked on. But she also knew how they felt about their father, how much he meant to them. She admittedly didn’t know much about bonds between parents and children, about families in general, even, but she didn’t have to in order to comfort her grieving companion. 

“Jus’ hold onto me, love, it’ll be okay.” 

It wasn’t too often Clover showed anyone her soft side, but this… This is what Lone needed, and she could be anything for her partner. For the one who freed her, the one who loves her, despite her more than checkered past. 

She’d help them through this. Help them get out of here, remain by their side as they took on the bastards that made them grieve this way. But for now, she would just hold onto them until they could be strong once again.

Cross:

Platonic:

“... We– we need to keep moving, Lone.” 

She’d say with a distinct tightness in her voice, evidence that it would shake if she’d had any less control. With glistening eyes, Cross would place a hand on Lone's shoulder and softly pull them towards her, towards the exit, towards safety. 

All those years ago, she’d made James a promise.

Please keep my baby safe, Cross. Always. No matter what happens to me.

He’d made her swear. 

So, although her old friend’s death affected Cross more than she would ever voice, she knew she had to keep her façade of strength strong, for Lone, for James's baby, all grown up. 

I’ve kept my word this long. She thought, as she pulled a shell-shocked Lone in front of her and guided them gently towards the exit tunnel. I don’t intend to fail now. 

When we return to the Citadel, then I will comfort them to the best of my ability. And I will mourn. But for now, we need to get out of this alive. For James. It's what he would've wanted.

No matter what.

Romanced:

“I’m sorry... I could not save him, Lone.” 

She would act similarly to the platonic reaction, still focused on Lone’s safety, despite her own despondency, but she would feel like she’d truly failed the one she loved.

Not only had she made a promise to James, but when she and Lone had committed to each other, she then felt responsible not just for her partner’s physical well-being, but also for their mental and emotional welfare. She felt almost like she belonged to Lone and James’ small family, and now… Now it was even more meager. 

Cross can’t help but feel unworthy of the title of Lone’s partner for a while after. If she can’t protect Lone’s family, her family, and one of her dearest and oldest friends, how can she possibly be what Lone deserves? 

Cross knows deep down that there was nothing she could’ve done, that James would forgive her, would want her to forgive herself, but to come fully to that realization, she will need time. For now though, the Star Paladin will do everything within her capabilities to make Lone feel supported through this time of grief. 

Fawkes:

Platonic:

“My friend… I can’t imagine your grief. If you need my support, I am here.” 

A heavy hand would rest on his companion’s shuddering shoulder as Fawkes watched his friend try to hold back their grief. His grasp would be firm, but not strong enough to cause pain. They had enough of that, and Fawkes could never contribute such a thing to his closest friend. 

He stood beside them as Lone’s eyes stayed glued to the floor, small droplets leaving patches of darkness on the concrete below as their shoulders continued to shake. Fawkes kept his own gaze on the surrounding area, prepared to defend his companion at a moment’s notice. For now though, while it was rather quiet, the mutant stood watch as his friend grieved beside him. 

“I wish that I could have done more. I am sorry.” He told them quietly. Lone only nodded, sniffled once, and then readied themself for the pair's escape.

Romanced:

“My love, are you alright?” 

He’d approach his partner slowly, speaking as softly as he could manage as he placed both hands on their slumped shoulders, trying to steady them as well as he could, whilst they tried to manage such a weight of grief as this one. 

“He– he’s gone.” Fawkes heard them whisper, and his grip on their shoulders tightened. 

“‘The ones who love us never truly leave us.’” He quoted a saying that he’d read, what must have been years ago now, hoping it was more comforting to his partner than it ever had been to him, to him who couldn’t even remember the ones he’d lost. 

“Your father may be gone, but his love remains. And he will live on in your memories. Always.” 

Lone turned around to face him, and his hands loosened their grip on their shoulders. His partner sniffled once, eyes still glistening as they tried to manage an appreciative grin. Only, their lip trembled, and their face remained scrunched with grief. 

Fawkes pulled his partner into him gently, feeling the wetness of their cheeks against his torn vault suit. He hoped that his words would help, that in time, what he said could soothe his partner, could lift some of the weight of their sorrow from their tired shoulders and their wounded heart, but for now, he only hoped his embrace would be enough to keep them strong, until that time came.

Jericho:

Platonic:

“What the fuck just happened?” 

One moment Jericho was facing the door, mowing down another Enclave asshole, and the next, Lone was on their knees, one hand pressed against the glass as their father collapsed to the floor within that little room. The old raider cringed before turning back to the hostiles behind them. 

Alright, shit sucks, but we’ve gotta get outta here, or we’re next. 

“Kid.” He said, trying to get their attention while keeping his sights set on the exit. 

He chanced a glance to his companion, but noticed no difference in them. They were still just staring ahead, blankly, as tears began to stream down their face. Jericho rolled his eyes.

“Kid! Look, I know your old man meant a lot to ya, but we’ve gotta get the fuck out of here before the rest of these bastards show up, or you an’ me are gonna be next to go. Now, I know I’m going to hell one day, but it ain't gotta be now. So let’s go.” 

He grabbed Lone’s collar and hauled them to their feet, shoving them ahead so he could better cover them as they headed towards the door. Jericho kept his sights ahead, even as Lone glanced over their shoulder, eyes locking to that point in the middle of the room where a body in a lab coat lay crumpled behind the glass. The old raider felt something throb in his chest at the sight of his companion, but he set his jaw and kept pushing forward. 

Romanced: 

“Aw shit. Don’t do it, don’t you fucking do it. Fuck!” 

Jericho’s fist pounded against the glass as Lone’s dad fell to the ground.

Fucking bastard knew that would happen. 

How could he leave ‘em? After all they’d gone through to save his ass, now he’s just gone? How the fuck could he do that to Lone?

Jericho's jaw clenched as his dark eyes settled on the crumpled body below him. He shook his head at the sight, and slowly turned to face his partner where they knelt in front of the glass.

“Shit, baby… I’m sorry.” Jericho said. Uncharacteristically quiet.

For a moment, all he did was stand, glancing briefly back towards the doorway in case of danger, but he tried to simply stand and let Lone grieve.

Jericho’s lost people in his life, sure, but never like this. You can’t get revenge on a fucking machine, on radioactivity. An’ the sciency bastards that did this? There were just so fucking many of 'em. Still though…

“We’ll get ‘em back, baby." Jericho said lowly. "I will. Motherfuckers think they can take us on? They’d better think again, eh?” He grabbed his partner by the arm, pulling them up to stand beside him as he waved the loaded barrel of his Chinese assault rifle in front of them.

“Now’s the time for some action. Let’s send a few of ‘em to hell right fucking now, eh?” The old raider gave his partner one last pat on their shoulder, before taking aim at an incoming Enclave soldier, and blowing him to hell.

At that, Lone seemed to snap into focus, all their rage and emotion flooding through their limbs as they surged forward and began their own assault on the enemy. Jericho covered their back, a smirk on his face and pride swelling in his chest at every soldier bastard they downed. 

Butch:

Butch groaned loudly, his strained voice catching in his throat as you cruelly pulled your hand away from him.

“Ah, fuck. Come on, baby,” He whined, “You can’t just say shit like that!” His hips stuttered and you could see the play of muscle straining beneath his shining skin, as his body convulsed at the abrupt halting of his pleasure. You struggled to hold back a laugh at the pained look etched upon his pretty features.

“Sorry, but it’s true!” You told him, “You should see yourself right now, I know you’d agree with me.” Butch’s eyes rolled open and he threw you a glare, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

You didn’t always tease Butch this way, but the look of him when he was this desperate was just intoxicating. That flush of his cheeks, his cool exterior melted away until he’s just a malleable puddle beneath your touch, the way his voice raises an octave, and his well-groomed eyebrows scrunch together over his stormy eyes, just barely shading the details of his irises and his dark, blown-out pupils.

How could you possibly resist?

“Fuck you.” He said through gritted teeth, the strain of his body finally dying down enough for him to sit up and better face you.

“Thought that was your job.” You flashed a grin and a wink, and Butch only huffed at you, refusing to meet your gaze as a pout set upon his lips. For a moment, you were worried you’d taken it too far, that your actions had spoiled the mood, but then his head turned, and you saw the way his eyes looked over your body so hungrily. His intent to continue was pretty damn clear after that.

“So… When you’re good and ready, then?” Your eyes flashed below his waist with a quirked brow as Butch's body spoke for him before his voice could reply.

He released a breath, biting his bottom lip as he regarded you in return.

“Damn it,” Butch gave in, “Come here, then. And we’re gonna finish it this time, ya hear me? None of those tricks of yours, or the next time you need a haircut, you’ll have to ask someone else. I mean it.”

Charon:

The ghoul’s furrowed gaze met yours as his large hands moved to lift you off of him easier than if you were made of straw, his lust-filled state preventing anything but a low growl to escape his throat as he dared to prove you wrong.

You loved when he got like this, your dirty words edging him on, and into a state of vigorous dominance that he usually tended to hold at bay, if only for the sake of your well-being. The truth is though, you lived for his rough, commanding touch. Charon rarely had the opportunity to be the one in control, and when you handed him the torch, so to speak, the fire blazed all the brighter for the lack of oxygen it had before. Before he was yours, and you were his.

You squealed as the ghoul threw you onto the mattress and climbed over top of you, one of his padded knees jamming between your legs almost painfully as his gaze burned into yours. His calloused hands grasped at your wrists, dragging both of them up over your head as he drove his mouth into your own in a claiming kiss that was sure to leave your lips red and swollen, and your lungs aching for breath.

You knew the words you’d uttered were far from the truth, and so did Charon, but that never stopped him from striving to prove you wrong in all the right ways.

Clover:

Clover’s eyebrows rose as the words left your mouth, her own lips quirking up into a mischievous smile.

“Feeling feisty today, sugar?” She spread herself even more widely beneath you, raising her arms above her head, and tilting her chin seductively as her lashes flittered over her dark, wanton eyes. “Why dontcha put your caps where your mouth is at and do something’ about it?”

Your heart beat faster at the seductive look she was giving you, the way she brought her bottom lip between her teeth and grinned, a lively glean shining in her once-dull eyes. One of her legs wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto her, your arms caging her in as she leaned up to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but smile into the contact. So tender, and genuine now, with you. You both knew for Clover, it hadn’t always been that way. With you though, she let you in, she was happy to be with you, and she reminded you of that fact every day that you two spent together.

You were good, and kind. You considered her own wants, preferences and limits; and though your dirty talk could use some work, you had the spirit, that was for sure. It didn’t much matter though, she wanted to be with you, cared for you, and she could be the one in charge of the dirty talk.

“Come on, stud,” She said lowly as she pulled away, leaning forward and pressing her lips to the sensitive shell of your ear, “Come and claim me.”

Cross:

“I– well, no one’s ever told me this. I’m uh, I’m afraid we may have missed that window, Lone.” The Star Paladin’s cheeks darkened, and you could see the sweat littering her forehead, even in her dim quarters at the Citadel.

How was she meant to respond to your comment? Were you serious? Had you thought of that before agreeing to be with her? How could you not have known that she was… Well, she was past that point in her life. She had been for a few years now, if it were even possible before that, what with the injuries she’s sustained, the hardships she’s been through. Was she taking your words too literally? Still though, if this was something important to–

Your lips cut off her thoughts, your grin easily distinguishable in the firmness of your mouth against hers, and she let herself melt into the contact. Her thoughts swirled around her mind, before they were drawn out of her from the feel of you against her.

“You don’t need to take everything so seriously, Paladin.” Your hand felt warm against her cheek as you pulled away from her. “I can see you trying to work it out, but it’s just some talk, that’s all.” Your thumb stoked along her prominent cheekbone, each swipe seemingly wiping away any semblance of strife from her expression as she sighed in relief.

“While I’m relieved that there was little intent behind your words, I must recommend that you don’t repeat them to anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t want to say them to anyone else, love.” You chuckled, and she was lucky enough to feel your lips on hers once more as you gave her a small, reassuring peck.

Never in her life had Cross been accustomed to the tender touches you gave to her so liberally. She wasn’t sure what you saw in her, or why you eventually pursued it, but damn was she glad that you did. Even still, there was always a twinge of guilt in her in regards to your relationship. She promised James that she would look after you, protect you, before the two of you had been sealed away below ground all those years ago, and now, she wasn’t sure how the man would feel about you and her, now that you were reunited after all that time, all those changes in you and her both.

“Good, because if those words got back to your father--” She couldn't help but try and voice her concerns.

“They won’t." You interrupted, "And if they do, I’ll know who it was that told him, won’t I?” You cocked a brow at her good-humoredly, and she flashed you a rare smile. You didn’t seem to harbor the same reservations as she did in terms of your relationship, and for that, Cross was grateful.

“No need to worry, Lone. My lips are sealed.”

Fawkes:

You had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at your companion’s baffled expression as he processed your words.

“I’ve– Well..." He stumbled out, "I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that expression before. A-are you sure it’s what you meant to say?”

Fawkes was polite in his questioning, but the shock remained prevalent in his widened eyes as he stared back at you through the dingy mirror in front of him.

“Oh, I meant it. You asked me how you looked in your vault suit, and I’m telling you.” His brows furrowed and he just kept staring ahead, into the reflective glass, as if he could look hard enough to see himself through your eyes.

"Yeah, definitely meant it. I mean, just look at it. The way it’s all worn,” You continued, taking slow steps forward as you crept one hand up to lightly graze over his arm. “Practically ripping at the seams…” You let your fingers slide up to where the suit refused to clasp together over his broad chest. “Almost in pieces as it is. You think, if I tug hard enough, it would all just slide right off?” Fawkes swallowed hard, and when you looked closely at his face, you could see the light glisten of sweat beading on his forehead. You tugged teasingly at the zipper of his suit, and his breath caught in his throat, forcing a nervous cough out of him.

“The zipper is rather unstable," He managed, "So, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if… well, if it were to malfunction. Shall I change my apparel, then?”

His voice came out an octave above his usual tone, and you could tell he was fighting hard not to stumble over his words.

How many weeks has it been since we started this relationship? And still he gets this nervous when I barely touch him.

You couldn’t help the grin that formed at your lips, still marveling at the way someone like him could be so incredibly sweet.

“If you want…” You said as you circle to stand in front of him, his anticipatory gaze meeting yours as you trailed off teasingly. “Or, we could just start by removing this first, and go from there?” You raised one brow as you fiddled with the zip once more, letting your cool fingertips graze over the warmth of his chest as the expanse of it rose and fell with each shaky breath he took.

“What do you say?”

Fawkes’ tongue remained too tangled to respond verbally, but he swallowed down his nerves once more and gave you a definitive nod as his hands tentatively came up to assist your own.

Gob:

“Oh, um… Well, if you say so…” The ghoul rubbed at the back of his neck at the sound of your heated words, his surprise evident in his widened eyes. Still though, he only settled further onto the bed.

Gob could never deny you, and he would never want to.

Since the day he met you, he’s been trying to understand why someone like you would pay him any mind at all, even when the two of you were just acquaintances, when you were only friends.

When you expressed romantic interest in him though? Gob had half a mind to think it was Nova and Moriarty conspiring with you to play a joke on him. How could someone as flawless and incredible as you, want anything to do with a lowly ghoul like him? What did he have to offer you? He wasn't ambitious, or brave, or outgoing, and the whole wasteland liked to remind him how unattractive he was, but you? He'd like to see anyone try to name even one thing wrong with you, he sure as hell couldn't.

Oh, and the day you told him that you wanted to be physically intimate with him? Gob was even more astonished than he thought possible. He would do anything for you, be whatever you want him to be, go wherever it was you wanted him to. He feels luckier than he’s ever been in his life just to be able to spend time with you, to be able to touch you, and hold you, and kiss you; but to share a bed with you? To see you at your most vulnerable? How did he-- How could he ever deserve such a privilege?

He's absolutely thrilled about it, that's for sure; and he tries to make the most of it. He tries to be worthy of the trust you have in him, the affection you miraculously have for him, the allowance you've given him to be with you in such a way that he never thought he'd get to be with anyone; any ghoul, any smoothskin, and surely anyone as perfect and wonderful as you are. All of it is so foreign to him, but damn, does Gob hope he’s doing it right.

“Where is it you want me, love?” He’d ask with an embarrassed smile that certainly would’ve been accompanied by an intense flush of his cheeks, had he been human.

“Anything you want, just ask it. I'm yours.”

Jericho:

"The fuck did you just call me?" Your eyes lit up with mischief as your lips curled into a smile at the ex-raider's gruffness.

"Nothing." You feigned ignorance with your small voice, shrugging your shoulders as Jericho looked over at you.

"Nuh uh.” He growled, “You're gonna repeat to me what you just said." He rose from his chair and stalked over to where you sat on the bed, leaving the rifle he'd been cleaning behind.

Jericho paused when he reached you, his body almost uncomfortably close to yours as he settled himself with his clothed crotch inches from the tip of your nose. After a few tense moments of invading your space so obscenely, he leaned down and spoke again, his voice low and as dangerous as the dark, piercing gaze that bore into you from beneath his furrowed brows.

"You hear me? Say it again, an' I'll only punish you a little, okay? Now, go on." You blinked and your little grin wilted as you felt Jericho’s hot breath fan over you, all smoke and tobacco as it assaulted your upturned eyes.

“I-I said,” You started, voice nearly faltering as it made its way up your throat, “Well, it was just a joke, but… well, what I meant–”

“Did I fuckin’ ask you what you meant?”

“N-no.”

“No’s right. I didn’t. Now, tell me what you said, an’ then,” He stood up then, one hand going to his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Then... I want you to bend over for me.”

“W-what?”

“You got cram in your fuckin’ ears, sweetheart? You heard me. Don’t go an’ make things worse.”

You relented to him, repeating the words as the flame of his lighter emphasized the sinful spark in his eyes. You bit your lip as you began to follow his gruff orders, crawling up onto the bed completely before turning away from him.

“Now, you know I don’t like doin’ this to ya, angel, but someone’s gotta if you keep forgettin’ your fuckin’ place like that.”

You peeked over your shoulder as you turned your behind to him, noting how the puff of smoke from his cigarette softened his hard features as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms to your wanton gaze.

No sixty-year-old had any right to get you hot and bothered the way Jericho did.

You practically drooled as he slowly removed each of the rings on his right hand, almost as though he was putting on a show for you. Each one clattered down on the table beside him, the disrupting noise the loudest thing in the universe, besides the frantic beating of your own heart as you held your breath in anticipation.

He acts so tough and mean, you thought, but he still wouldn’t want to really hurt me. Despite what he wants everyone to think, Jericho’s got a conscience. You wiped the small smile from your face before he could notice, and turned your head away as he settled behind you and pulled the flattened palm of his, now de-ringed, hand all the way back.

“Eh, who am I kiddin’?” His cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke, “I live for this shit. Now, don’t hold back your sounds, sweetheart. An’ don’t forget to count, or I’m startin’ over, an’ you wouldn’t want that, would ya?”

Butch:

The instant Lone recoils as he reaches to put an arm around them, he remembers. Butch internally smacks himself for not thinking about it sooner; he knows Lone’s past, he was there when they were being mistreated. At the time, back in the vault, he always told himself it was none of his business. He wasn’t even their friend at the time, what would his word of advice or defense have meant? Now though, Butch wondered how he could’ve sat by and done nothing, even as he saw the way Lone was being treated. After witnessing the way that these experiences still affect his partner to this day, even with him, after knowing him all their life, he's pissed at himself for never saying anything, or doing anything to stop it before it could get so out of hand.

Butch spends the first few months of the relationship just trying to make up for the mistake he made before. He’d be very open about his love for Lone; idle touches and PDA are common, if Lone is okay with it. Even when they look uncomfortable, Butch tries to get them to talk about it, and walks them through returning his little touches, his hand holding, his shoulder rubbing, his kisses upon their cheeks. Butch may have a certain kinda reputation he wants to uphold, but when it comes to Lone, he’s a real softy, and he’s happy to be soft and tentative with them for as long as they need.

Charon:

Charon isn’t familiar with softness in any capacity, but still, seeing the way Lone flinched away as he reached towards them, the way their eyes sunk to the floor when he tried to meet their gaze, he couldn’t help but clench his jaw at the thought of what could have inspired these reactions. The people that have been awful to him, that have beat and mistreated him when he was under their service were his employers; no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape them, but Lone? How could Lone have stayed with someone who abused them, who made them fear the little amount of contact that Charon desperately tried to muster? Once they told him of their past, worried that he might think it was him who made them uncomfortable, Charon would be reminded of his own reservations about physical contact. He’d think back and wonder if he’d ever been touched in a way that made him actually feel good.

The pair would have to take everything slow, the amalgamation of their prospective trust issues making each small touch a victory, each kind word something worth celebrating, but eventually, they would make progress. One day, they would both be able to show each other the kind of tenderness neither of them had ever experienced, but that was long overdue in both their cases.

Clover:

“Oh, sugar, I understand that better than most. Don’t worry sweetie, I’ve got you.” Clover tells them, as Lone reveals the truth about their past. She slowly brings a hand up to stroke over their arm comfortingly, trying to be more subtle with her movements than she’s used to. Clover has gotten better over the years at working through her own history of cruelty, and she’d try to help Lone to do the same. However, once she does so, she finds it odd that her partner reciprocates her soft, sweet touches. That, she isn’t used to.

The physical affection she’s become used to showering her old employer with wouldn’t have been reciprocated, the way Lone is trying, despite their past. And the fact that she knows it’s difficult for them to show this sort of tenderness towards their partner makes it all the sweeter for her. She lets them know how much she appreciates the effort; and, over time, she finds that her own forms of showing her affection become much less of an automatic instinct in response to the way she had to live her life before she met Lone, and more of a conscious decision she makes in order to convey her genuine love for her companion. It’s a welcome change for her, being able to show the one she loves some tenderness on her own terms, wanting to convey her true feelings, rather than just doing what she knows they would want. For Clover, Lone's past and her own seem to emphasize the trust that they have for each other now, in the way that they can both find comfort in actions that once were painful and insincere for them to perform.

Cross:

Her chest feels hollow as Lone tells her the truth about their reservations with romantic touch, and their unfamiliarity with kind words. She thinks back on any of the instances where she raised her voice, said something without the sensitivity she should have been applying, or when she moved very suddenly around them, and now Lone's reactions made sense to the Paladin. She wishes she could take back her actions, that her partner never had the chance to feel unsafe around her, that she could have been there to protect Lone from those that mistreated them before she came along. The Star Paladin would never allow such things to happen again, it wasn’t just a promise, it was her duty to ensure Lone’s safety, their happiness, now that she was with them; and she would take this responsibility as seriously as any she has received from the Brotherhood.

As far as softness is concerned, Cross isn’t an expert, but she will try to be more affectionate with her partner than she is with… well, anyone else. Mostly, her affection starts out verbal, since that’s what she’s most used to (though it is still quite foreign). She gives Lone compliments and support, and provides advice when she feels that they may need or want it. Later, she would give them affectionate pats or soft punches on the shoulder, put her arm around them, or lean her head against there’s, but she’ll start performing these actions very slowly, both for her own comfortability and for Lone’s. She would never try and do something to make them uncomfortable, especially after finding out about their past.

Fawkes:

Fawkes takes issue with Lone’s confession about their past relationships. He simply doesn’t understand how anyone could mistreat this good, kind person, especially when they label themselves as their significant other. He’d feel anger burning low in his chest any time he noticed Lone’s discomfort, and before they told him the truth, he was sure it was him who was at fault, given his appearance, and his partner's extensive experience with violent mutants. However, when they revealed to him the details of their past relationships, when he saw how it upset them, and how their trauma affected them now, even years after the fact, he could feel the dull ache in his chest and the fury boiling in his blood. How could anyone do this to them?

Fawkes was gentle with his partner from the start, but now? All the more so. He never touches Lone without clear consent, and even still, he does so slowly and carefully, and tends to check in with them every so often to make sure they’re okay every step of the way. He’s defensive of Lone and their feelings, and if anyone decides to speak harshly to the vault dweller at his side, they’ll find out how sharp the mutant's tongue can be in the right circumstances. If these people take it far enough, they might just get a taste of Fawkes's not so gentle side as well.

It’s difficult for him at first, given his isolation for so many years, Fawkes finds himself extremely starved for any kind of contact, but now that he’s effectively in love? That makes it all the more difficult to hold himself back from unabashedly showering Lone in his affections. But for them, he can exercise restraint, and help them work through what they are going through with a kind hand and a gentle word.

Gob:

Lone and the ghoul are one in the same. Gob has rarely seen softness in his long life, especially in his most recent years, and even as Lone braves their own issues with physical affection, they find their partner often flinching away from their touch. Once Gob gains the confidence to try and show his partner the affection he knows that they deserve, and he sees that same familiar way they shy away from him, he can’t help but feel a distinctive pang in his chest. How could anyone mistreat someone as selfless and kind as Lone? How could they live with themself after hurting someone who is so compassionate, who would never hurt them in return? It made his heart hurt to even think of it.

Gob would vow to show them the kind of attention he knows they need to feel; to love them as gently as they’ve tried to do for him. Though he tries to shut it out, there would always be a cruel voice at the back of his mind trying to convince him that Lone was repulsed by him, that’s why they flinched when he reached out for them, why they sometimes didn't register the compliments that spilled from his mouth all rough and gravelly. However, as long as they reassure him, and try and show him the softness that they themselves were denied all their life, as Gob sees them making the effort to prove that they aren’t disgusted by him, his confidence will only grow. After this, the ghoul is more than happy to work through his own anxieties and convey the love and appreciation he has for his partner by returning their tender words and gestures tenfold.

Jericho:

Admittedly, the ex-raider has his own issues with softness, so the pair will end up pretty reliant on each other to figure out boundaries and forms of showing affection. Jericho hates that someone mistreated his partner. He may be an asshole, but dammit, he’s an asshole who still cares for his partner. He’s not a monster. If Lone ever stumbles across the ex(es) that treated them badly, Jericho won’t hesitate to inflict all the pain onto them that they left Lone with. That he can do. But for this whole tender affection type shit, he’s going to need some help.

It’s been a long while since Jericho's last relationship, if you could even call it that, and now, well… He’s gotten used to a certain kind of aggressive lifestyle, but luckily, if Lone tells him to knock it off, he’ll listen and won’t take offense. He tries for them though. As he becomes more used to their dynamic, he gets better about not touching without permission, and moving more slowly, handling them with more softness, even though it all feels very foreign to him. Lone’s the best thing that’s happened to him in a long ass time, he’s not an idiot, he knows he doesn’t deserve them, and that if he wants to keep ‘em in his life, he’s gotta treat them right.

Face-Sitting with Cross x g/n! Lone

Lordy this was so fun to write. Cross is just such a delight, I wish she got more recognition all around 😔 Like, before I starting writing for Fallout, I didn't even know she existed! It's crazy, but I love her now <3

I hope y'all love it! 😁

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Face-Sitting, cunnilingus, oral sex, making out, petting, uncertainty turning into consent.

1.8k words.

--

Despite her best efforts, a wanton moan slipped from the Star Paladin’s mouth as Lone ground their hips into hers. They were intoxicating, everything about them screamed want, from their soft lips, the sweet taste of them, like honey and cola, the feel of them, the heated touch of their hands over her thin top, the invigorating rub of their pants against hers in all the right places. 

It felt bad to feel this good. 

It felt like it shouldn’t be allowed. It was too decadent, too addicting to be permitted in her vicinity. Cross had always prided herself on her ability to exercise control, to remain calm in the most pressing situations, to be cool and collected in the midst of utter chaos, but Lone unfurled any feelings of control or withholding that she could muster. 

They were a damn danger to her, that’s what they were. 

Now was no exception. The way they rubbed against her, pulling sounds she didn’t think she was capable of making, inspiring feelings she’d never had the liberty to explore. She felt like a goddamn initiate again. They made her everything she’s not, they made her giddy with joy, hot with need, mindless with desire, and they were both still clothed. 

She groaned again as their fingernails dragged through her short hair, the sound growing louder as they pulled away and she unwittingly voiced her frustration at the loss. 

“I need you.” Lone whispered, and a jolt ran up Cross’s spine. She nodded, her hands going to the hem of Lone’s shirt, her mind made up as to where exactly this was going, but Lone’s grip on her hands stopped her. She looked up with raised brows. 

“I want to try something different, something I think you’ll like.” They bit their lip, their expression earnest as they hesitated. 

“What is it?” She asked gently, a little caught off guard by their meekness. Usually it was Lone that was more forward in the bedroom. 

They smiled strangely. It was almost… devious. Cross’s eyes narrowed. 

“I want you… to sit on my face.” 

Cross opened her mouth, but no words left her. 

They… what?

“Lone… I– Well, I’m not sure exactly what you mean by… I mean–”

“Shh.” Lone held a finger to her lips. Cross could tell they were trying not to laugh at the way she suddenly became so flustered. “How about I just show you?” 

Cross swallowed hard, but nodded nonetheless. 

She felt safe with Lone, she trusted her partner’s judgment wholeheartedly, and if they thought she would like this, well, who was she to say they’re wrong? 

Lone smiled at her broadly as they climbed off her lap, moving next to kneel between the Paladin’s legs. 

“First thing’s first.” Their hands moved swiftly, her partner’s excitement palpable as they popped the button on her cargo pants, and pulled down on the zip. “Gotta get these off ya.” 

Lone winked, and Cross felt herself flush. 

Damn vault-dweller. 

She lifted her hips for them as they pulled the fabric down her legs, underwear and all, and let it settle on the floor. They looked up at her, eyes half-lidded and pupils wide and dark, and their tongue drew over their bottom lip. Cross’s breath caught in her throat, and she nearly coughed. 

That wouldn’t be particularly sultry, would it? 

“Alright, onto the next bit.” Lone stood and circled around the bed, climbing onto the mattress and shifting into a lying position with their head nestled upon one of their pillows. Cross cocked a brow at them. 

What now?

“Okay, I’m set.” They told her, “Now, climb aboard, soldier.” One hand gestured to their face, and Cross merely blinked at them. 

“Y-you can’t mean–” 

“Oh-ho, yes I can.” They propped themselves up on their elbows to look at her. “What part of ‘sit on my face’ didn’t click for you?” They were grinning like an idiot, drunk off the glee of embarrassing her this way. 

“Well, I just… Won’t you suffocate? This just doesn’t seem safe.” 

Lone burst out laughing at that, the cacophony shaking the mattress below them as one hand clutched at their chest. 

“No, love, I’m not gonna suffocate.” They finally managed, “But if I’m having trouble, I’ll tap your thigh, and you can pull off me for a moment, okay? Nothing safer than that.” 

“I disagree. I can think of several acts that are safer than having me–” 

“I promise, Cross, it’ll be fine. I swear. If you don’t like it, or I end up… not breathing, or something, we can stop, okay? How does that sound?”  

The Paladin looked away, thoughts of what could go wrong circling in her head until she forcibly silenced them. 

They want this, and I told them I would at least try. 

“Very well. Let’s… do this.” Cross rose to her knees as Lone fell back on the pillow, their broad grin persisting as she shifted closer to them on the mattress. 

If nothing else, the way they craved her, the way they were patient, the way they wanted to please her… Cross was so unused to such treatment, it almost made her feel selfish to have Lone in her life. 

It felt strange… to say the least, as Cross straddled her partner’s head, her knees on either side of the pillow as she lowered her hips down. Lone had gone down on her before, and that too had been something foreign to her, something they’d had to talk her into, talk her through, but she had undoubtedly enjoyed it. 

This might be a similar experience. 

She hovered over her partner’s face, refusing to drop her weight down until Lone’s hands gripped at her hips and pulled. Every muscle in her abdomen flexed as she felt Lone’s hot mouth against her folds, and she nearly panicked, nearly pulled up again as she worried about crushing Lone’s nose, or smothering them below her, but her partner merely groaned. Their hands tightened their grip on her hips, and she shuddered as their tongue darted out and swept along her slit. Cross’s breath caught in her throat, one hand gripping to Lone’s while the other went to the top of their head, threading through the hair there as she closed her eyes to deepen the sensation of their mouth against her. 

Lone quickly set a rhythm below her, licking over and between her folds in long, luxurious strokes before driving their nose forward to grind against her sensitive clit, each time they did it causing an involuntary buck of the Paladin’s hips as she tried to prolong the contact. 

Quickly, she felt herself growing wetter, craving more. Unsurprisingly, Lone had been correct in their assumption that she would enjoy this action. Now that she was out of her own head, it became easy to lose herself in the pleasure, in the closeness, in the trust her partner was placing on her. 

It was easy to lose herself in the pleasure as well, as the tip of Lone’s tongue teased at her welcoming entrance, dragging along the sensitive skin below before delving within to lap at the wetness that was leaving her. 

It all felt so… erotic. The slick noises and breathy moans coming from her, the groans of pleasure from Lone, their desperate, grasping hands, the way they ground their nose into her, their heavy breaths as they pulled away, before pushing forward in earnest, devouring her pleasure like she was the only ration they were allowed. The thought of anyone stumbling in to see this made her blush. There were few times in her life where she felt so alive as this. 

Cross’s hips moved more liberally as she felt her need begin to grow, the pressure of Lone’s tongue, and the drag of the wet muscle over her was pleasurable, but not enough to drive her to her release. Lone seemed to sense it themself, and Cross stilled herself for a moment as she felt their hand move over her thigh, but her worries were dashed from her as their fingers delved between her legs, quickly finding her clit and rubbing over it in tight circles, even as their tongue continued to fill her. 

She’d need to commend them later on their ability to multitask. For now though, she resumed the rocking of her hips, slow and gradual, but enough to push Lone’s tongue deeper into her with each pulse forward. 

With the increasing pressure on her clit, and the rhythm of Lone’s incessant lapping at her slick, Cross felt that knot within her stomach tighten, her thighs clenching around her partner’s head as she tried to hold back from completely thrusting into the feel of their fingers. 

I said I wouldn’t suffocate them. I meant it. 

“Mmhm.” Lone murmured something below, and Cross’s eyes snapped open. She lifted her hips, her heart racing as she rose up and allowed them to speak, and to breathe, if they needed it. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, breathless herself from her building pleasure. 

“Let go, baby. Ride me, grind into me, I can take it.” They thrust their head forward, placing a swift kiss on her thigh, “I want you to feel good. Don’t be afraid. I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.” 

“Okay.” Cross nodded, throat dry as the word left her. 

How did I end up with someone as good as Lone? 

Her partner’s hands went back to her hips, urging her down again, and the pair resumed their ministrations, quickly picking up where they left off, and Cross felt the burn in her belly roar to life. 

Damn, they’re good. 

Her eyes closed again, her mouth hanging open as she did as they asked, as she let go. She tried to ride them uninhibited, to grind against their face with a new vigor and let them know that she trusted their word, but with every deep thrust, every hard rub of Lone’s fingers, she felt herself winding tighter and tighter, until finally, it snapped. 

Cross threw her head back, nails biting at Lone’s scalp as she rode out her release over their face, her thighs shaking with each new lap of their tongue over her sensitive sex. Lone drank her up, a groan leaving their throat unwittingly as they tasted their partner in the most intimate way, and soon, despite Lone’s unyielding touch, Cross felt her release taper off until she was left with nothing but groggy satisfaction. 

Lone’s hands released her thighs, and she clambered off of them, settling down by their side as the pair panted for breath. 

“So,” Lone managed as they sat up beside her, “Did you enjoy it?” 

Cross chuckled briefly, causing the mattress to shake as her numb body melted into it. 

“Oh yes. Most definitely.” 

Lone shifted to face her, the area around their mouth still glistening with sweat and her juices. Cross’s face heated at the sight.