EDIE @sonnetsonnet - Tumblr Blog

May 21

For Those Who Persecute You

Pairing: Joshua Graham / Female Original Fallout Character ("Paloma")

Word Count: 7,616

Warnings: smut (18+), hate sex, dubious consent, forced kissing, groping, nipple play, rough sex, creampie, minor descriptions of blood/wounds, mild violence, spitting.

Summary: Local Followers doctor and former victim of Legion violence finds herself stranded in Zion and is overcome with conflicting emotions after being forced to spend time in the presence of one Joshua Graham.

Notes: I've finally gotten around to writing some good, old-fashioned hate sex thanks to this commission from @sonnetsonnet. It was strangely thrilling to finally get to have someone spit right in this man's face. Enjoy a solid 8/10 on the "Joshua being a freak" scale.

"You'll have to stay off of it more if you want it to stop hurting."

A light breeze blew across the lowest level of the Sorrows camp, stirring up dust and sending Paloma gripping at her jacket, tugging it closed around her to shield her from the chill it gave her. Though her hands were preoccupied, her eyes were trained on her patient, studying the young tracker's ankle. Painted in blotchy, watercolor hues of purple and green, it was still swollen to twice its usual size as he flexed the foot and toes at her prompting. According to what she'd been told when she'd first tended to him, he'd twisted his ankle on a root while he and a few others had been in pursuit of a yao guai.

"I know," he admitted, sheepish. He was very interested in a spot on his other leg. "Easier to say than actually do, though. I can't do my part, so I feel lazy. Being lazy makes me feel guilty."

She smiled, though she was hoping it read as more at-ease than the statement made her feel.

"Don't be so down about not being able to do what you were able to do before right this second." she reassured him, adjusting her grip on her arm brace as she helped him swing both legs off the side of the flat stone she liked to use as a makeshift examination table. "If you keep at it and take care of yourself, let yourself rest, you'll be right back on the trail with everyone else. In the meantime, maybe you can still help prep for hunts or help clean the game if you want to feel helpful, yeah?"

Though his cheeks still seemed a bit pinkened, he was able to make eye contact with her, a bit unsteady as he rose to his feet. A strong length of cut wood was serving as a makeshift cane for him, something else he'd expressed resentment towards. It was an identifiable struggle, though she didn't spend any time commiserating with him. Instead, she kept her warmest face on as she helped him on his way, studying his gait as he went along. It wasn't difficult to tell that he was still in pain (an issue for which she'd suggested a regimen of healing powder, elevation, and warm compresses), but it was just as easy to tell that he'd be back to normal in no time with some rest.

Still, she understood the reason he seemed to be strangely ashamed of what was a very accidental and very minor injury. Thanks to her own difficulties, she knew how easy it was to feel insecure about how much of your energy was left to give to others once you'd done the bare minimum for yourself.

As she turned to make her way back to her little work area, she caught a glimpse of a familiar party entering the camp. The group had set out to scout for any signs of White Leg activity early in the morning, already gone by the time she'd gotten herself up and around, but she knew how many there would be. It was always the same. Her dark eyes swept over each one, counting and checking for any signs of injuries that would need to be addressed. Thankfully, everyone seemed intact. She lowered herself carefully into the old folding chair she kept around, searching for one man in particular.

Joshua Graham wasn't difficult to pick out of a crowd once he became visible. Having survived both a terrible fall and being burned alive, the tall, somewhat thin former Legionary was wrapped from head to toe in linen bandages, making every piece of him that wasn't covered by clothing or a bulletproof vest a stark cream color. Paloma stared at him as he weaved between the people around him, a tension radiating from his entire being as per usual. He spoke to few, seemingly handing out orders based on the deferential posture of each person he interacted with. She chewed at her lip as she studied him.

After a few minutes of chatter and movement, the group began to disperse, some breaking back down the path toward the river while the others moved in the direction of the cook fire to see what they could scrounge up. Graham, though, began to head up the path towards where she sat, likely on his way to seek out Daniel. She grabbed the book she'd been thumbing through before her previous appointment and buried her nose back in it until she heard his steady footsteps pass.

Once he'd walked by, she lifted her eyes to peek over the edge of the hardback, studying his tall, leanly built silhouette. When she moved to push one of her long, dark braids away from the side of her face, the skin warm to the touch.

Later, after Daniel had come to relieve her for a while, she decided she'd stretch her legs and walk around. As she wound down to the main foot path, she passed clusters of people talking, children playing games she couldn't decipher. Pausing for a moment, she found herself touching absentmindedly at the bracelet of yao guai teeth she wore around her wrist.

She'd been born here, but had long since forgotten the spirit of Zion. Thirty years of wandering the Wastes after leaving with her adoptive mother as a mere child had taken its toll on her knowledge of the language, the area. For all intents and purposes, she was a stranger in this place, and she felt it with each passing moment. The feeling of alienness made her all the more grateful for the hospitality of the Sorrows and Dead Horses, who were always eager to include her. When she returned to the camp after her little stroll, it wasn't difficult for her to find a place to sit as she ate her supper.

Joshua, as he always did, sat against the wall a few feet away from everyone, eating alone and reading his scriptures.

It had been a rather slow morning in her makeshift clinic the next day, most of her time occupied by the pile of clothes she was working away at mending; her own, Daniel's, a few articles for people she'd begun to consider friends. Tattered old textiles and such weren’t terribly hard to come by, thankfully, so she had ample stock for patches, and she found the act of hand sewing rather relaxing, sat in the shade in her chair and watching the occasional member of the tribes pass by.

After she'd taken a short break to eat, a light meal of gathered berries and flat bread that left her perfectly sated, she decided she'd take a quick, early inventory of her supplies before she returned to sitting again. She was only about a third of the way through the simple task when she heard light, ever-so-slightly hurried steps approaching.

She didn't expect to be greeted with the sight of a bandaged Legionary when she lifted her head.

"Yes?" she asked, her eyes immediately returning to the small bound notebook she'd jotted the numbers down in.

"Where's Daniel?" he asked. It was only when she sat her pen down that she realized he was cradling his right arm instead of crossing them together like she'd originally thought.

"He's out checking on a pregnant patient. What do you need?" she asked, slowly making her way around the natural workbench and looking him up and down.

There was a beat of silence instead of a response, the older man seemingly studying her right back.

"Nothing. I'll figure it out myself." he replied, turning to walk away.

"No." she insisted, rolling her eyes as she reached out to grab at his arm. Her weight shifted, balanced between her brace and his wiry form. He was so solid-feeling as she gripped at him. "Let me see."

Despite resisting for another moment, he eventually conceded, allowing her to unwrap the bloody rag he'd wrapped around himself several times.

"What happened?" she inquired as she studied the long, curved laceration that ran from just below his wrist to the midpoint of his outer forearm.

"Training accident." he explained, eyes analyzing her every move through the small window in his bandages. "Overly enthusiastic student."

"I see." she murmured, turning his limb to and fro to study the still-seeping gash beneath the wrap. "I should be able to stitch it up, no problem. Come sit down."

Again, there was a moment where he seemed to hesitate—no, resist—before doing as she'd ordered, his long legs dangling from the edge of the flat stone. As quickly as she could manage, she dragged her chair to where she could reach it more easily.

"Before we start, I have some Med-X if you'd like." she offered, catching her breath.

"No."

She raised her brows, though she wasn't necessarily surprised.

"Are you sure? Stitches are pretty uncomfortable." she explained, as she would have to any other patient.

"I've had stitches plenty of times. Yes, I'm sure." Joshua retorted, his voice sharp.

"Fine." she sighed, leaving him supporting his bloody limb as she went off to wash her hands and gather her supplies. As she reached out with her shears to start trimming the bloody, ruined bandages back, he fully pulled his arm away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I have to clean it before I can stitch it. Will you hold still?" she asked, trying to keep the venom from leaking into her tone.

The man sat beside her let out a beleaguered sigh, but it was more one of resignation than one of irritation. He moved back into the position she needed.

For several silent minutes, she went about carefully cleaning the linen debris and already-crusting blood from the edges of the cut, readying it for the procedure. Luckily, the blade that caused it seemed to have been plenty sharp, leaving clean edges that would be much easier to repair and much quicker to heal. That was good for Joshua as her patient, and it was good for her as a provider who wanted him away from her as quickly as possible. Damn her Hippocratic oath.

Eventually, she managed to stem most of the bleeding and get the area to a level of cleanliness she was happy with. As she prepared the suture kit she'd dug out, she analyzed the small swath of his bare skin that was exposed. She'd never seen more than his eyes, and she found herself curious. The feeling didn't abate the longer she looked, though. It only grew.

Paloma had seen burn scars plenty of times. Those were present, of course, flat pink patches that bloomed in a long trail. The disfigured flesh pulled itself overly tight near his wrist thanks to a contracture. But his skin, sickly in color, inflamed, and weepy, was different from that of any other burn victim she'd ever treated before. It was almost as if he were turning into a...

"What are you staring at?" Joshua snapped suddenly, interrupting her train of thought as he set to squirming again. "How much longer will this take?"

She sat the tin of supplies down on the stony surface—not slamming, but hard enough to convey her meaning.

"It takes as long as it takes. Now sit still." she chastised, annoyed by his tone, his behavior, his presence.

Though she couldn't see his full face, she could see his brows shoot up. He didn't move or protest further as she set to rolling some leftover bits of sterile gauze into short, round lengths, placing them on either side of the gash before pulling needle through skin, knotting the thread carefully around the gauze on either side before continuing on. Once she’d made a few stitches and run out of room, she placed down more gauze and repeated the process. The white strips made a bold, dotted outline around the fresh cut.

“What’s that?” he asked, seemingly an equal mix of distrustful and genuinely curious.

“Your skin’s too delicate for traditional sutures. The scars. This puts most of the pressure on the little tubes instead of the wound. More surface area for the tension.” she explained, not looking up. Joshua's presence made her uneasy, as always, but eventually she was able to fall into the same sort of hypnotic trance as she worked, each suture drawing the black thread across the angry flesh and white linen. Her patient grunted as she pulled the center-most stitch closed, and she shot him a look while she rolled more strips, barely able to keep her commentary to herself.

Don't complain. You deserve much worse.

Resisting temptation, she didn't hurry through the back half of her task, thorough with ensuring the cut would stay closed as it healed. When she'd finished, she wrapped his arm in a new layer of bandages, hiding his skin away once more. He seemed noticeably more relaxed once the wrappings were back in place, though he was still tersely silent as she tidied up.

"You should be fine for now." she explained over her shoulder as she cleaned her hands again. "You will have to remove the bandages daily and replace them to keep it clean. If it gets infected, you could get very sick, so don't mess around. Don't overdress it or wrap it too tightly, either. It needs air flow."

The former legate nodded along as she gave her aftercare spiel, though she was already doubting his compliance with her instructions and he hadn't even left her sight. If what she suspected was true, it wouldn't matter anyway.

As she dried herself, he stood and turned to make his exit.

"By the way, you're welcome." she called out, her voice almost the same one she'd use with her son when reminding him to use his manners.

It was hard to describe the exact look in Joshua's eyes most of the time, since you had only that little sliver to interpret what his expression was supposed to be. In that moment, though, she could very clearly read the astonishment on his face.

Everyone around the camp interacted with Joshua in a sort of docile, subservient way at best, some people closer to outright fearfulness despite the way most revered him for his ability to strategize and lead warriors. She understood it perfectly well and passed no judgment; it was impossible to ignore the past, the knowledge of what he was capable of, even if he had changed as so many claimed. The cruelty of the Legion had touched many lives.

It was because of the cruelty of the Legion that she had a son.

She wasn't sure she'd ever heard the man himself make the claim that he'd changed, but it didn't matter to her. That was part of the reason she insisted on speaking to him the same way she'd speak to any other person...maybe a touch worse than that, depending on the day and circumstance. Someone had to do it. Someone had to tell him the truth about himself. He was undeserving of the sort of peace he might have as long as no one did.

Her gut was tight as they stared at one another.

"Thank you." he finally said, though he sounded dazed as he did.

Paloma almost felt guilty as she watched him wander away, but didn't allow herself the moment of weakness. She did, however, allow herself to watch him go.

That night, as she lay wrapped up in her thin blanket, she struggled to get comfortable. Having only grown more present, the ache in her core nagged at her as she tossed and turned in the tiny alcove behind the space she worked out of. She sighed and tried her best to find something to occupy her mind with while she waited for sleep to find her, but only succeeded in thinking about Joshua again; his intense gaze and firm grip refused to leave her mind, no matter how desperately she bid them.

With a resigned sigh, she rolled onto her back and slid a hand into her underwear.

Over the next handful of weeks, that annoying feeling continued to plague her, and she continued to ignore it as best as she could, addressing it only when she was sure she was alone, and only for as long as she had to. The ultimate conflict with the White Legs moved closer with each passing day, and tensions began to slowly rise. Both men became more of a rare sight, often sucked into whatever individual preparations each of them were making.

Joshua was less of a rare sight than Daniel thanks purely to Paloma's efforts. The more she watched the older man, the more she noticed things about him that she never had before.

She suspected he had more contractures like the small one she'd seen on his arm, larger ones that wrapped around certain joints and made them stiff. His nondominant arm only ever seemed to come up to shoulder height, no higher. Though she'd seen him climb the rocky bluffs that filled the canyon multiple times, his opposite leg always seemed to lag behind the rest of his body, mostly straight at the knee when one would normally bend it. He seemed to compensate fine when walking, but it was easy to see that he struggled with lowering himself to the ground comfortably if you watched him closely enough.

Which she had been.

The man seemingly read his scriptures nearly every moment he had free. At first, she'd found it entirely performative, but had pivoted her theory to decide that it was more of an act of self-soothing the longer she went on observing...sometimes spying from hidden places.

The book appeared in his hand no less when he thought he was alone than it did when he knew he wasn't. The tense energy that radiated from his entire being as his eyes traced over the text was always present, though. When she was close enough to see as much of his face as she could, there was a dread in his eyes. It was the same dread a patient reading terminal test results might have.

Any time he spoke about his faith, the anxiety in his words was heavily present. His worship wasn't one of a man who loved God, but feared Him and His wrath after a life of the worst sort of unrepentant sin. She couldn’t say she felt bad for him.

The members of the tribes that had converted to the Mormon faith didn't seem nearly as fearful of their God as Joshua did. They loved to gather and praise, do readings, sing. The big group studies and sermons made her uncomfortable, and she avoided them as politely as she could. Her faith had always been quiet, private—an individual relationship with God that others didn't need to be in on, much like any other private relationship. Even at her most faithful, she'd never been one to preach, proselytize, or join in loud displays. There was a certain gaucheness to it that she found herself unable to reckon with.

Besides, she was nowhere near her most faithful these days. Oh, what her mother would have said...

Not everything she took note of about Joshua was related to his religion, however. She noticed he was a picky eater, only a few dishes apparently deemed acceptable. He was a patient teacher, whether he was demonstrating a fighting technique or teaching someone about weaponry. Strangely enough, many of the children seemed to like him, sometimes flocking around him like ducklings if he was around when they'd all congregated. The attention seemed to make him uncomfortable, his spine even stiffer than usual, but he was as warm to them as he seemed capable of being.

Above all, he was calm under pressure, the first person to step forward to mediate a dispute, to break up a fight or quell a crowd. He knew the power he held over many of the people around him, and he was unafraid to use it, it seemed. When one of the younger hunters suffered a series of seizures, some of the members of the tribes expressed fears that whatever ailment he suffered from was a spiritual one, but Joshua had heavily discouraged that line of thought. For whatever reason, that had surprised her.

Her joints were protesting especially loudly as she shook herself awake. The earliest twilight was just beginning to break, a cool, damp air hovering over everything. As she rummaged through her bag in search of slightly more clean clothing, she dug past her Bible. It had been a while since she'd pulled it out to read, and the great bulk of her reasoning was hard to put into words, but it was an issue she'd been struggling with since long before she set out towards Zion. Yawning, she cracked the well-worn spine and turned to a random page towards the beginning. She had to squint to be able to make out the small text of the line she was reading.

Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Huffing indignantly, she threw the thing back into her bag and went about preparing herself for the day.

"I know we can't rely on trade for now, but I was thinking it wouldn't hurt to start writing up a list of things I could try to get my hands on once things are figured out. I'd love your input on that."

Daniel had brought her an early lunch to share that afternoon, a few cuts of dried fish with some vinegar and herbs to dress them and some more flat bread. Both were light eaters, so the full platter was more than enough to sate them.

"A stockpile of stimpaks certainly wouldn't hurt. You know, the next time you can successfully get a trade caravan out to this place, that is." she said, covering her mouth as she chewed on a bite of salty, sour fish. This meal had proven to be one of her favorites thus far.

"They won't use them." he hand-waved, shaking his head dismissively at both her spoken and unspoken suggestions. "Better to use the caps or trade value on something else."

She rolled her eyes, though kept the gesture subtle.

"Many would use them. I've asked." she shot back. "If you always assume you know, Daniel, you'll never learn anything more. Give them some credit."

The younger of the two missionaries shrugged in acknowledgement.

Paloma had fallen in easier with some members of the tribes than others once she'd gained some comfort with her surroundings, though she wasn't sure she'd be able to completely articulate why that was if she were asked. Maybe she felt closer to the Dead Horses because her Sorrows heritage felt so inaccessible to her at times. Not caring to dwell on the idea, she reached into her pocket and began to fiddle with the less-than-palm-sized rock she'd been keeping there for a few days.

"What's that you're looking at?" Daniel asked when she pulled it free and examined it yet again.

"A fossil I found while I was rinsing off in the river a few days ago. I was going to give it to my son." she said, extending her hand to show him the small stone. Carefully, he reached out and took it, turning it over in his own hand a few times.

"What is it? A bug?"

"Seems like it." she confirmed, tracing the rusty-looking skeleton with the tip of her finger before taking it back. "I think he'll get a big kick out of it."

"About your son…" the missionary said suddenly.

"Hm?" Paloma replied, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"I know what happened when you first arrived here was a complete tragedy, but I'm sure being stranded here for so long unplanned must be even harder for you." he explained, pulling his hat off in a show of respect and cradling it against his chest. "How long has it been since you've seen your boy now?"

She pursed her lips for a flash.

"I saw him not too long before the medical aid convoy I set out with came here." she lied, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation. "It's been difficult to be stuck here, for sure."

"I'm sure you're eager to be back with him again, especially with his father passed." her colleague replied with a sympathetic tone. "I mean, what sort of mother wouldn't be?"

Paloma's whole stomach knotted into a hard ball, and she fell silent. The comment dissipated into the air awkwardly, and she was clammed up too hard to stop it. Logically, she knew her fellow physician hadn't meant anything by what he'd said. Emotionally, she felt as if he'd stabbed her in the side and then twisted the blade.

Never in her life did she think she'd be grateful to see Joshua Graham, who appeared near the entryway only a moment later, his hands clasped together at his belt line.

"Can I speak to you, Daniel?" he asked.

"Of course." the younger man responded, turning to Paloma as he placed his hat back on his head. "Excuse me."

When she was finally alone, she let out a deep, exasperated breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding high up in her chest. Lowering herself down into her chair, she pinched at the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She didn't hold what Daniel had said against him. Well, she tried her best not to. He had no way of knowing her history, and she wasn't exactly eager to fill him in. None of that improved her mood as the time continued to tick by.

A few hours later, Joshua reappeared for his routine wound check. She almost told him to come back the next day, but pressed forward after a deep, quiet breath. There was no guarantee she'd feel any more prepared to deal with the man later.

"We can go ahead and remove the sutures, if you have time." she said flatly after she'd examined the skin.

"Fine with me." he replied, much less squeamish about her seeing at least this patch of his bare skin after weeks of treatment.

Sometimes she would make at least minor small talk with him when she was in an especially good mood, but she was sullenly quiet as she gathered her snips and everything else, moving at a glacial pace. The man's head followed her everywhere she went.

"What's the matter?" he asked after she was about halfway through the short procedure.

"Nothing." she insisted as she went along, carefully cutting the visible threads and pulling them away with her needle-nosed tweezers. The old rolls of linen fell lax as the tension holding them in place let loose, the pink edges of the healed cut still firmly connected. A warm breeze blew through the camp, kicking up loose leaves and debris.

"So you have a son?" he asked suddenly, words laced with the slightest hint of accusation.

Paloma's lids narrowed as her eyes met his, her brow furrowed defensively, but she kept her tone measured.

"I do." she said simply. "He lives somewhere safe with family."

Though she doubted he'd do him any harm, there was similarly no harm in giving anyone connected to the Legion, past or present, as little information about Samuel as possible. Still, she felt a slight worry creep up her spine about what he'd already overheard. She snipped another few sutures, avoiding that sort of eerie eye contact he was so fond of while feeling his gaze burning into her face.

"It's sensible that he doesn't travel with you," he said suddenly. "The desert is treacherous, even for the capable. It's no place for a child."

She found herself frozen in surprise by this. Strategically tugging on a stubborn piece of thread, she turned the statement over in her mind while trying her best to keep her hand steady. Was he simply stating an opinion, or was he attempting to make her feel better in his own strangely communicated way? The uncertainty made her want to fidget, but she managed to keep still through the last handful of stitches.

"It's healed well. Even better than I'd thought." she said as she turned his hand at the wrist, watching the new scar twist with the motion. She was tempted to remark on how strange it was that his "burns" refused to heal after several years of treatment, while a fairly deep cut had managed to resolve itself in more or less the standard six weeks, even with all his scar tissue. Instead, she said nothing. There were other medical explanations for the condition of his skin that didn't necessarily mean he was becoming a ghoul, especially given how tightly wrapped he kept himself, and in often wet bandages. It was a matter to think on when she had more professional clarity.

After she finished wiping the fuzzy bits of thread fiber away, she wrapped his arm back the way he typically kept it, though she only used enough of the roll of bandages to lay down a single layer. Ever curious, she wanted to test a theory.

Satisfied with her own handiwork once everything was done, she still couldn't quite find it in her to smile at the evidence she'd helped someone.

"Same as before; let it breathe. Honestly, the same advice could apply to the rest of you, but I won't press on that." she said, maybe a bit too frank as she tucked her supplies away. "Careful you don't open it again. It'll be harder to stitch."

Joshua nodded slowly as he listened. She fell silent when she was finished delivering her advice, her mind a long ways away. He rose and began to walk away in long, steady strides. She only lifted her eyes to look at him, her chin braced on her hand where she sat, when he paused in his exit.

"Thank you." he said suddenly.

Her brows rose, but she otherwise remained still as she traced him from head to toe with her eyes, not bothering to hide her gaze.

"You're welcome." she replied.

They stared at one another openly for a second before he disappeared down the path.

The conversation she'd had with Daniel continued to bother her throughout the rest of the afternoon, and by the time the sun was beginning to disappear behind the horizon, she had worked herself into a fairly foul mood. Between that and the way every encounter with Joshua left her feeling a tumult of confusing emotions, she was already exhausted, moving especially slowly as she walked towards the camp's exit.

It took her longer than she'd have liked, but she eventually made it where she'd wanted to go.

There were more bugs in Zion than she'd seen anywhere else in all her travels...at least, bugs that weren't unnaturally large and also trying to kill her. Occasional butterflies painted in hues of orange and yellow fluttered through the desert brush during the day, crickets sang in the evening, and one could even see a smattering of fireflies at night if the conditions were correct. It was a lucky day on that front, a generous handful of the insects slowly meandering in the air above the water, occasionally beaming out their little signal as what remained of the sun's rays reached over the hills, casting long shadows in their golden path. Paloma studied them quietly for a few minutes from where she sat on a rock partially submerged in the water.

The river narrowed down to only about twenty feet wide here, where it began to divert into a deeper, wider channel, snug up against the bluffs that housed the Sorrows' camp behind her. It was a quiet spot, not too far out of the way, and one she often liked to visit to have some time to think. Now, though, she tried her best to keep her mind empty, meditating on a stubborn spot on her long skirt. She dunked it into the swirling water and scrubbed at it hard.

Once she was through, she wrung the garment as dry as she could manage in her aching hands before spreading it out beside her shirt and underthings on one of the huge, sandy stones that decorated the shore. They were warm, almost hot to the touch from soaking up the sun for hours and hours, and had proven a reasonably effective way for her to dry her clothes before. By the time she was all bathed and ready to go back to face things, they would be mostly dry. She was always a little damp from the knee down anymore, anyhow. You had to trudge through a stream several inches deep just to enter the camp proper.

Letting her hair loose, it hung down to her lower back, choppy and dark, and she moved further into the water to submerge herself deep enough to rinse it. The water was a tad murky, the bottom a thin layer of sandy silt mixed with rocks of varying sizes, but it was neutral-smelling and far lighter on the rads than most bodies of water she encountered, so it did the job well enough. It was warm, besides, the current around every inch of her a welcome comfort.

Contemplative, she lounged and splashed for a few minutes before retreating to the spot she'd been sitting in previously. The dripping tendrils of her hair clung to her shoulders and back, and carefully she set to detangling it with her fingers. She lost herself in the task for a while, pulling the length here and there to work different knots loose.

When she pushed her wet hair out of her face, she was confronted with the sight of Joshua standing a few feet away, watching her from his place on the dry portion of the bank.

"What in God's name is wrong with you?!" she yelled, scrambling to cover her nakedness as best as she could. Her more mobile leg curled up to cover more of her torso, foot sliding against the wet rock. He continued to stare at her, the crickets the only sound as she did the same.

"What do you want?" she insisted, each word punctuated with an increasingly firm, terse tone.

He slid his hands into his pockets, and the casual gesture looked all wrong on him.

"I came to see if you were here."

"And I'm here. Bathing. You Legionaries don't understand the concept of privacy at all? Are you animals?" she jabbed.

Something about her question seemed to amuse him, and he closed most of the distance between them, his head tilting about forty-five degrees as he resumed his previous posture. Still, he refused to explain himself.

"Look, I don't know what you came to say, but I'm not doing anything until I'm dressed." Paloma stated firmly, refusing to move from her spot for worry that he'd see more than he already had.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Joshua picked her clothes up from where she'd laid them out to dry, balled them up, and threw them backwards over his shoulder, staring right at her all the while. Challenging her to stop him. Fortunately, the flying bundle landed on the opposite bank instead of in the water. Unfortunately, she would really have to go through him if she wanted it back now.

"What on Earth was that for?!" she clamored, throwing one arm skyward as the other cradled her breasts.

He moved even closer until the two were only an arm's length away.

"Is your son the only child you have?" he asked suddenly.

There was a sudden flush of ice in her veins at the tone in his voice. Whether it was or not, it sounded like a threat.

"Leave me alone. I'm done with this conversation," she snarled, one hand still making a futile effort to cover herself as the other braced her weight to help her stand. Her crutch was just out of reach, her leg brace laying among her handful of other things up near the path.

In an instant, Joshua moved himself fully into her way, looming over her at his full height and looking down at her intensely. His hand was on her shoulder.

"I'm not."

She rolled her eyes, her whole head bobbing with them in surprise at the man's sheer gall.

"That isn't any concern of mine." she shot back. "Let go of me."

Those bandaged hands suddenly formed cuffs around her upper arms, squeezing hard. He stared, stared deep into her eyes like he could see all her secrets, and it frightened her.

"I said let go!" she demanded, a tinge of the fear she suddenly felt coloring her voice and making her whole face flame with embarrassment and anger. The thought that he would see her as afraid, even if she was, was an indignity she would not suffer. She fought against him, a shooting pain in her bad leg as she pivoted too much of her weight onto the joint. Against her will, she whimpered, a strained sound that split the air between them.

Her efforts yielded few results. Throwing all her weight against him, she barely managed to make him wobble in place where his weight was supported by his own weak leg. Paloma was increasingly unsteady herself, huffing and growling as she used the last of her energy to try and send the older man running. All the pent-up fight from everything she'd suffered spilled forth, and she felt burning hot from her scrunched face all the way down to her kicking, stomping feet. She clawed blindly at whatever she could reach, tearing at the bandages that covered his neck and the lower part of his face as he continued to hold her in his ironclad grip.

She didn't even notice that she'd managed to expose most of his mouth until he forced it against her own.

Time seemed to freeze, and her body did the same. Joshua used the moment of stillness as an opportunity to seize her wrists instead, using them to hold her in place as he mashed his lips against hers, scarred skin and linen rubbing at her face. She kept still almost entirely out of shock for the few eons-long seconds it took him to pull away.

There was hardly a beat before she reeled back and spat right in his face, the projectile finding its target just below his left eye.

"Fuck you." she said with all the hatred she could muster.

The man hovering over her didn’t so much as flinch when the spittle hit him, but he hardly seemed unaffected by the gesture, back to making hard eye contact with her as he maintained his grip on her arms. Holding her chin high, she stared right back at him, taking in the warped flesh of his lips and chin where his bandages hung loose, patches of pale, misshapen tissue that bled into darker scarring.

It was impossible to tell if the eerie, lopsided grin that painted his thin lips was due to the contracture she could see lining his jaw, or because he was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of her fighting him. A shudder broke down her spine.

There was no time for another swipe at him before he was kissing her again, stealing the already uneven breath from her lungs as he held her prisoner against his padded chest. One wrist remained clasped in his bandaged hand, but the other snaked around the back of her head and buried itself in her hair, knotting tight in the wet strands. Their teeth gnashed together as his tongue raided her mouth.

Despite the painful hand gripping at her scalp, there was a surprising near-tenderness (or, at least, a lack of harshness) in the way he guided her backwards, supporting the majority of her weight so she wouldn't stumble. When the water level was to her ankles, he lowered her down onto her rear, careful as he allowed her weight to splash down. She kicked her heels, scrambling backwards up the sandy river bank as he did. Joshua sprang at her immediately, caging her naked body beneath his. One knee was bent, braced against the sand as it supported his weight, but the other drug behind him, leaving his posture half-slumped.

Paloma could already feel how hard he was, the evidence of his arousal poking her in the stomach as he held himself over her.

An indignant gasp left her as his left hand clawed over her breast, the other hand busy pinning her arm to the ground. He seemed to study her reaction for a moment before lowering his head to her chest, skimming his nose along the tops of the twin swells. Those sharp blue eyes watching her again, he turned his head and captured her nipple between his lips.

"Ahh!" she cried out, her shoulders digging further into the soft as she made a fruitless effort to back away further. The feeling of his wet, agile tongue massaging her hard bud sent shocks through her torso that landed right between her legs, but she bit hard into the delicate meat of her inner cheek to keep from giving him what she knew he wanted.

It was almost impossible to maintain her sturdy facade when his unoccupied hand suddenly cupped her unclothed mound. Her immediate reaction was to close her thighs tight around his arm, giving him no room to move. That crooked, wicked grin only seemed to grow, though, his palm pressing against her swollen folds and rubbing back and forth the short distance it could. A harsh exhale left her nose at the electric feeling, her teeth digging so hard into her lower lip that she was shocked she didn't taste blood.

Joshua wasn't satisfied with that level of torment for long, leaning in to skim his teeth along the crook of her neck and shoulder as he continued to rub at her. Every nerve in her body was a live wire between the feeling of his hand between her thighs and the hot tickling of his heavy breath in her ear. Squirming, her eyes were screwed shut as her legs began to tremble.

"Ugh." she sighed as he pressed right against her clit.

To her endless frustration, her thighs relented, granting him full access to her most intimate place. She cried out as two of his fingers immediately sank into her embarrassingly wet heat.

When her head flopped to the side, he caught her lips with his again and went right back to forcing her to kiss him deeply. Growling against her, he continued to fuck her with his hand, his thumb still strumming against her eager bud until she was right at the precipice. He rutted his hardness against her, rough and wild like a beast in heat. Fighting with her hands had turned to fighting with her lips, her tongue.

Paloma let out a humiliating whine when he pulled his hand away, fluttering hard. The former legate wasted no time lifting his hips as much as he was able, his stronger side supporting most of his weight as he began to wrestle his belt loose.

His stiff arm didn't work quickly enough for her tastes, and she reached down to roughly tug the button and zipper of his fly open. The look he gave her in reply was as heated as she was sure her own was, full of lust and hatred and an almost hypnotic intensity. They were kissing again as he drove himself into her in one brutal move, leaving Joshua swallowing her cries.

Already, she was so close. Her aching cunt fluttered and gripped around him eagerly as he put his fingers back where she wanted them, her lips unsealing themselves from his to draw in a desperately needed breath. The pace he set on top of her was merciless, each thrust rubbing her already raw back against the sandy ground. She groaned in pain as her tender leg was wrapped around his pistoning hip.

As her orgasm began to break over her like a hurricane breaking land, she sank her teeth into the spot where his neck met his shoulder as hard as she could. The man on top of her groaned in what sounded like ecstasy before knotting his hand in her hair and yanking her away, burying his tongue back into her mouth again as she growled.

Skimming her palms up beneath the hem of his untucked shirt, wriggling her hands between the vest and his burning hot wrapped skin, she sank in as deep as she could. Panting, she clawed harshly at his back as his hips began to stutter, scrambling for any sort of leverage she could find as she yanked herself even closer. Her nails bit into his flesh, tugging even more bandages loose.

Joshua hissed in pain, and the sound was so, so satisfying to her ears.

"God, yes..." she breathed as her whole body began to spasm. Everything around her was spinning. A tight grip around her torso was cradling her against his chest. There was a warmth pooling inside her. She buried her face into the old SWAT vest and let herself float away on the tide of pleasure and pain.

Where that tide might carry her away to was none of her concern.

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