#lacerta legate x reader

[druidessgeek]

Lacerta Legate x ex NCR sniper reader

Oh boy here I go writing a fanfic for a character that barely had 10 minutes of screen time. Macaulay Culkin had no business being that attractive in Legion armor okay? This will likely be a two part story as it would have been way too long.

Please let me know what you think. I’m new to the Fallout fandom but I’ve jumped in headfirst because I LOVE lore. A lot of the lore is taken straight from FNV, either from playing or watching YouTube videos.

- It all began with one raid on a profligate town that seemed to have no problem trading with drug runners and the like. It should have been an easy job taking out a town of less than 20 people not counting the gang.

- The Legate didn’t account for one thing. Your band of mercenaries guarding the town were near invisible when his second in command formed a sudden hole in his trachea and fell at his side when surveying the town from a nearby hill.

- The trail of the bullet came from your rifle. You weren’t close but he could see the rude gesture you made from an old water tower with a smile on your face.

- He had to guess by your accuracy and the helmet you wore you were likely NCR trained. Bold. Fearless, as much as he hated to admit that about a woman, much less a profligate.

- One by one over the coming days your unit picked off members of the Legion by the dozens. He thought he would lay siege to this pitiful settlement but it really seemed his troops were the ones truly under siege.

- This had to end. If he didn’t do something you would probably reduce his Legion to none. One morning he walked forward in full regalia holding a white flag in hand, stopping 100 feet before the town gates. No one shot at him. If only he knew how badly you wanted to do it anyway.

- After some time, 3 people came out of the gates to meet him. The elder of the town, a member of the gang, and you, gun aimed at his head as you came out of the safety of the town, expressions suspicious.

- Now that he got a good look at you, he was sure of two things. You were beautiful, and it was going to be a difficult endeavor dragging you back to the Legion and bedding you. But surely worth it.

- You eyed him with an expression of disgust, posture tall and commanding for a woman barely 5’4 while the elder asked what the Legate wanted.

- “I’ve come to discuss the terms of your surrender.” He said through the metal plated mask on his face which was of course met with protest from the people before him. Good. Psychological warfare rarely hurt the Legion’s efforts.

- “I told you this was a waste of time Elder Samson.” You spat, moving between the old man and the legionary, aim never leaving his head.

- “Now, now.” He paused, removing the heavy helmet and exposing his face and looking at you directly. “That’s no way to treat a man holding a white flag, woman.”

- You hesitate slightly, taking in his features. This awful man is actually… handsome? He wasn’t young but he wasn’t old, maybe in his late 30s, early 40s. His hair was close cropped but tidy, and had a hawkish face.

- The spell is broken almost as quickly as it takes hold, expression hardening at his words. “Maybe that would be if I thought you were a man at all.” You reply coldly.

- He didn’t dignify that with a response. He returned his attention to the two men that were actually the Legion’s reason for being there. “You have until morning to surrender yourselves and your drug running friends to the Legion.” He paused and gestured at you. “Though this one you can surrender to me personally.”

- This earned a gob of spit hurled at the ground shockingly close to his sandaled feet from you. You told the men you were with to go back inside. You began to back up, refusing to turn your back on the Legionary.

- “A word, profligate?” The question was almost polite coming from his soft voice if he didn’t use that irritating word the Legion used to describe anyone that wasn’t them.

- You lower the barrel of your gun slightly, eying him with suspicion. “What? Can’t you see I’m busy trying to kill you?” You ask, sarcasm dripping from your lips.

- He laughs at your words. At your confidence. “You know those men you defend are nothing more than drug dealers and those that work with them, right? You don’t want to die defending them do you?”

- You seemed to consider his words until he realized it was all still sarcasm. “Hmm. Die here listening to you talk me to death or die taking as many of you with me as I can? Oooh. I’m overwhelmed by my options here.”

- That night is the first of many he touches himself at the thought of you. He’s never felt such a burning need before. Your insolent expression on your beautiful face. He dreamed about wiping it away with his cock. He had to have you.

- The Legate awoke in the early hours of the night to the smell of fire and shouts from his men. He emerged from his tent to find the town and the Legion’s camp ablaze. One of your mercenaries must have snuck in and lit the fires while you and the rest of the town set to scorching the earth of any resources.

- When the fires died down in the morning light, he found you had indeed gotten the town away from his forces while the Legion were distracted. There was nothing left of the town but scraps of metal and charred Brahmin corpses that looked like they’d had their throats slit before everything burned. A shockingly primitive tactic for someone trained by the NCR.

- The Legate was enraged to have lost an opportunity to prove himself to Caesar and most importantly he lost you. He couldn’t even decimate his forces since your mercenary band’s efforts over the last few days had all but done that for him.

- Months passed. Your Legate had put some effort into tracking you and the town you’d rescued down but it really seemed you’d scattered to the winds.

- Really he could have cared less about the town. It was you he wanted. But ultimately he was beholden to Caesar’s will. He couldn’t tell his leader that he was in love with a Profligate that killed his own troops.

- Secretly he still searched for a small mercenary band led by a fierce, beautiful woman.

- Some had heard of you. One of his Legionaries told a story about how you were one of the NCR’s best rifleman until about 5 years ago when you left, how when you targeted a member of the Legion, you did it with extreme prejudice, terrorizing them with your bullets before you finally put them out of their misery.

- Another told of how you’d disguised yourself as a slave and snuck into camp, freeing at least 20 women slaves. It was hard to count since the Legion barely recorded or cared about how many they had in camp at once. And this wasn’t the first time you’d done such a thing. Bold. Bold indeed.

- He never dreamed you would all but stumble into his lap. That was only sort of an exaggeration but the circumstances were less than favorable for both of you.

- The Lacerta Legate had the whole settlement of miners at Quarry Junction killed before they could warn him he was marching his men straight into a deathclaw den. The mutated beasts had butchered the majority of his men before they took shelter in a hole in the rock too small for the large creatures to claw through.

- They had no guns, no explosives and almost no weapons. Supplies were minimal. The Legate truly thought this was where his life would end. He himself had a large cut on the side of his face that was persistently bleeding over his eye, and he had it easy compared to his men.

- Gunshots and booms announced the arrival of another group nearby. The Legion survivors had hope that maybe this group would wipe out the deathclaws or at least distract them. But the sporadic shouts of pain and fear announced that even this group was also getting torn apart. But they were getting closer.

- The remnants of your band of mercenaries tumbled through the opening in the rock to raised knives and broken spears. He didn’t see you until the last of your men came through the cave entrance. You’d made sure all of your men left alive had made it in before you did.

- You scrambled to your feet after tumbling through the small entrance head first, a clawed hand grasping at where you’d been previously outside. The first thing you saw was his bloodied face.

- “You.” You both spat at the same time.

- Everything seemed to happen at once. He tried to grab onto you, but you got him first. Next thing the Legate knew he was being tossed over your hip, landing hard on the rocks with you above him.

- When he looked up, he saw your face looking down at him resolutely, knife in hand at his throat while you knelt on his stomach. You didn’t seemed bothered at all by the Legion spear tips pointed at you from multiple angles. One actually pierced the skin on the side of your neck and you didn’t even flinch. If anything you looked at the spearman with an expression of “do it, I dare you.” Your own men had their pistols drawn and aimed at the Legion members threatening their leader.

- “You think I won’t drag every one of you to hell with me, Legate? Tell your boys to stand down.” You ordered cooly, like your life wasn’t just as much on a knife’s edge as his.

- He’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

- He gives the order and the Legion’s spears are retracted. For a moment you hesitate and the Legate can see you thinking about it. About sinking that knife into his throat anyway. He wouldn’t have blamed you.

- To your credit, you pull the knife away and stand up. You don’t offer him a hand to help him up though. You watch him struggle to his feet to stand taller above you. You must have been a strong woman to have been able to throw him like that.

- “What now, Profligate?” He asked in that soft voice, that word emphasized just as much as the day you met. It almost felt like a term of endearment to you at this point.

- “You wouldn’t happen to be hiding grenades under your skirts would you?” You asked sarcastically, crossing your arms and assessing all the Legion troops around you, earning uncomfortable silence. “Figures.”

- “We don’t rely upon such weaknesses-“ the Legate began in a snide, preaching tone when you interrupted. “And what a load of good that’s doing you now, isn’t it?”

- Unfortunately you had explosives. The man in your squad in charge of that was getting digested by a deathclaw outside the cave right now. Going out to get them would be suicide.

- The Legate was transfixed by you while you debated with the men about what to do. The grenades could be accessed. You could see them from the entrance of the cave. But there were 5 deathclaws right there. It didn’t matter how fast someone was. Those beasts were faster.

- After much deliberation, one man from your squad that was quick and one of the spearmen would venture out for the explosives. It was just a matter of waiting for the deathclaws to get bored and give your men space to move.

- In the mean time, you and your Legate got to know each other in a way neither of you ever expected.

- You offered to clean the wound on his head, pulling out a small medic kit. He protested, not wanting Stimpaks but much to the Legate’s chagrin you assured him you would never waste that on him. In the moment you meant that. Instead you pulled out some alcohol and a needle and thread and sew it shut. You weren’t gentle about it but he got to see you up close in a way he’d only prayed to Mars for the proximity.

- You learned to patch people up like this in the NCR. Much like your leadership abilities and your sniper skills. He asked why you left it since the life of a soldier clearly never left you. This made your face fall and for the first time he saw discomfort on your face.

- You and your twin brother Craig had joined the NCR together as soon as you were old enough. You were both crack shots and an asset. He was sent to deal with the Khans. You were sent off to fight the Legion. You however were more adaptable and managed to climb the ranks faster than your brother. You stayed in long after your brother left the NCR to be with his wife in Novac.

- You loved being a soldier. Loved helping people, loved rescuing slaves from the Legion, loved having a rifle in your hands, loved the camaraderie. Until Craig’s wife disappeared. You never liked her but she was family now. All you had left. He contacted you and told you of what he suspected: Carla had been taken by the Legion. His wife that was 6 months pregnant.

- You would have stayed with the NCR. But when you brought this to the attention of your superiors, they acted like they cared. They didn’t. Nothing was done. And your brother was left a shadow of his former self. Something in you broke. Honor and duty felt hollow. You couldn’t keep this up while half your soul was a shambles. You and half of your incredibly loyal unit left for Novac to find your brother also gone. Disappeared into the Mojave with some courier.

- You were technically a deserter now. That didn’t leave you with many options for work. But you were good at killing Legionaries and you soon found work defending settlements from them. You couldn’t bring back your sister-in-law. But you could kill as many of those bastards as you could before you left this earth for your brother. Until now.

- The Legate was impressed by your story. How you were willing to give up everything you’d worked for. For family. Suddenly the thread sewing his head shut I was cut and the bleeding was stopped. And you were looking at him with an expression of “well? Now it’s your turn.”

- Your Legate knew what it was like to be willing to sacrifice everything for family. The Legion was his family. And Caesar was all but his father. He was taken off the streets of Vegas it turned out. Some mysterious Legionary only known by the title of the Burned Man had taken him off those streets and to the Legion not long before the first battle of the Hoover Dam. He’d never had a family until then.

- He too was raised to be a soldier. He too loved the life of a Legionary. If you weren’t a woman you might have made a fine Legate yourself, him telling you this earning the biggest eye roll. Mars, he loved how expressive your face was.

- He spent his whole life being the soldier the Legion needed. He killed when ordered, enslaved whole settlement’s at Caesar’s orders. He put profligates upon crosses with a smile on his face. The slaves he earned was a near legendary number. But he never used them for their intended purpose. A fact that secretly softens your heart to him.

- He never wanted to bed slaves. Never wanted some soft willed, half starved woman to warm his bed. He never even realized why until he met you. He didn’t want a woman who couldn’t say no to him, that he had to conquer. He wanted a wife. An equal.

- “You know you’ll never find a woman like that if you stay in the Legion right?” You ask him after a moment of silence between you.

- He already had. You both knew it. Even you were finding it incredibly difficult to hate him in the moment.

- A bit of blood seeped from the sewn up cut on his head and you reached out with a rag, dabbing his blood gently. You didn’t even realize how intimate this felt until his hand closed around your own. Your hands touching was final ice breaker between you. He could see it in your eyes while you studied his soft looking lips.

- One of your men broke you from your trance though, one that had been posted near the cave entrance to watch for the deathclaws. The beasts had moved off a ways. Still visible but with luck your men could sneak out and grab the explosives without incident. The Legate reluctantly released your hand.

- The two men selected crept from the cave nervously. What a sight it was, a Legionary and a former NCR soldier walking side by side. Neither ever expected they would have to depend on each other now. Slowly they snuck, avoiding the line of sight of the giant lizards until they made it to the skeleton of your explosives expert, pack left undisturbed until now.

- They grabbed the payload and successfully made their way back towards the cave. Until the Legionary accidentally stepped upon a rib bone, the snap resounding through the rocky hills like a gunshot.

- “RUN!” Every person in the cave screamed, hearing the shouts of the deathclaws as they noticed the two tasty morsels within reach. They high tailed back towards the cave, no longer caring about stealth. They almost made it. The man from your squad was scooped up like he weighed nothing and devoured helplessly.

- The Legionary that had the explosives nearly made it, armor getting caught in the rock edges. You grasped at his arm, desperately pulling the man through.

- You barely felt your Legate’s arms wrapping around you to help pull his subordinate back in. Especially since the monster got ahold of the poor man’s foot. Another soldier took the explosives from the legionary while you and several men tried to save the man’s life.

- Until you felt the most sickening snap and release as the man’s torso disconnected from the arm you had ahold of, blood spraying everywhere while you and everyone else tumbled back.

- Then and only then did you see you had fallen on top of the Lacerta Legate, pretty much into his lap. He looked down on you now with more blood on his face than before you’d cleaned his wound.

- “What now, Profligate?” He asked, panting from the failed effort.

- There was no way this wasn’t a term of endearment for you now.

- The explosives were intact and ready to be used. If you could just kill one of the deathclaws the others would get distracted by an easy meal. At least you hoped.

- The Legate watched you take aim with a grenade launcher, the machine looking heavy in your arms. You were the smallest person here and the only woman, yet here you were the most qualified to handle such equipment.

- “What if this doesn’t work woman?” One of the men of the Legion asked you.

- “We die. I’ll save you a spot in hell.” You said in a deadpan voice. Dying was barely a consequence. What could possibly be worse than this?

- You fired the explosives into a deathclaw further away from the entrance. One after another, you rained hell upon the creature that could do nothing but scream and rage. In the end it took another of its own kind with it.

- The plan actually worked. The deathclaws got an easy meal and what remained of yours and the Legate’s men were able to escape for the most part unscathed.

- You ended up shaking the hands of many of the surviving Legionaries, their respect for you solidified. Especially that of their leader who watched you interact with his men like you were one of them. For a few hours, you were. And the two of you got along.

- When it came time to part ways, he found himself unable to let go of your hand when you two awkwardly shook hands.

- “Glad I didn’t kill you.” You said quickly, a blush plain to see on your cheeks.

- “I’m glad I didn’t make a slave of you or we’d all be dead.” He quipped back just as flustered as you.

- When you pulled away, the rag you’d used to dab his blood was left in his palm. And there was an oddly full feeling in the center. Something was hidden within.

- It was a note. Scrawled on it in neat handwriting was “Meet me at the Atomic Wrangler in Vegas. I won’t wait long.”

[texas-writes]

Strange Stars

Lacerta takes a liking to the healer sent to his tent after a raid

Idle chatter drifted through the air as a group of women washed their rags at the bank of the river. You sigh and dunk one of your buckets into the water before setting it aside and doing the same to the other. The men were due back this evening, and the water was needed well before then to make it boil. You slide the handles over the bar you brought with you and pull it to rest over your shoulders as you had several times this afternoon, beginning your journey up the hill.

Your mother greets you just inside the tent and takes the water from your shoulders, pouring it into the cauldron over the fire in the center of the tent. “Wash yourself child, I’ll need your hands this evening.” A shout sounds from somewhere at the base of the hill followed by the clatter of armor and the excited conversation of men drunk on blood and adrenaline. It was a good sign, morale was high, meaning they would likely get to sleep before the sun rose again.

More healer women begin filtering into the tent, followed by their apprentice-daughters and a handful of priestesses. Bedrolls were spread about and bandages dipped into suspensions of salves and healing powder. The air stank of herbs and lye soap as preparations were made for the men coming up the hill.

The most injured were brought first, recruits mostly, slung over shoulders or dragged between two others and dropped onto furs. The tang of blood began to mingle the air as the healers descended on their patients. A Decanus stood before you, gesturing with the groaning boy in his arms towards the cot. You take a moment to assess him. Pale and scrawny, too young to grow scruff on his chin, innards held in by his own trembling hand.

Your eyes meet the boys briefly, deep brown and glassy, pained sweat drips from his brow. You shake your head sadly and the Decanus turns from you, taking the boy from the tent. Outside there’s a soft whimper followed by a sharp crack and a thud. You take solace in knowing that his suffering was over.

The next group to file in were better off, broken and bleeding, but on their own two feet. Bones were set with grunts and splinted with scrap. Wounds were stitched and their bearers given warm Brahmin blood to drink before they were wrapped in furs and laid on cots to curb their bloodless shivering. Many of them would be given a woman to warm them through the night, then they’d take them in the morning. Raids had a habit of making mothers.

Your attention was drawn from the fray by a towering Centurion as you turned and walked directly into him. You apologize hastily and move to duck around him, but he catches you by your tunica, dragging you back before him. “The Legate wishes to be tended to in his own tent. He said to send a pretty girl. Go to him.” You nod and turn to grab a satchel, filling it with whatever you may need to tend to any injury the Legate may have sustained on his mission and slink out into the evening.

The Legate’s tent was an opulent thing, a hulking canvas shadow against the lilac colored dusk. Flaming sconces lined the path approaching the entrance flap. You nervously pull your cucullus tighter around your shoulders and steel yourself before ducking into the tent.

The inside was sparsely furnished, but each piece was intricately carved, imported from Flagstaff artisans, and draped in tender furs. Lacerta sits at the foot of his bed stripped of his armor, his crimson tunic stuck to his body in awkward places with sweat. You approach him slowly, your hands reaching out and catching the bottom of his clothing before pausing. He nods curtly and you continue, pulling his tunica over his head and laying it beside him on the bed. There’s a gash on his cheek lazily oozing blood, and a few scratches litter his arms, but the wounds are insignificant overall.

“Your wounds are minor, Dominus. You may live to see another day,” you joke before catching yourself and pausing, looking to the Legate for his reaction. He offers you a lazy grin of approval, making you blush and look away. You pull antiseptic from your satchel and dab it along his cheek. “This may scar, though I think it will make you more handsome.” You tease and he responds with an amused sound. His tolerance makes you bold, and you preen under his watching eyes.

Once the wound has been cleaned and packed with healing powder, You take his face into your hands to inspect your work giving a satisfied nod before moving to clean the scratches on his arms. “Would you like me to draw you a bath, Dominus? Allow me to bathe you?”

“Quam dulcis puella es,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around the back of your thigh and pulling you closer to him. “It would please me to relax and wash the day from my skin.”

You make quick work of cleaning the scratches and move to the large basin at the other side of the tent, drawing water from it into a bucket to heat over the fire.

“Huc, puella,” Lacerta calls, and you return to him without thinking, standing between his parted thighs. You shiver as his large hands wrap around your thighs and slide up to knead at your buttocks. He groans and rests his head against your stomach, pulling you closer and inhaling deeply. “Perfectus es, Severus promotionem meretur quod te mihi misit.”

You bring your hands up to rest at the base of his skull, allowing one to drift up and toy with his short blond hair. “The water should be hot now, Dominus. Please, allow me.” He nods against you and releases you. Smacking your ass as you turn and move to the fire. Once the water is returned to the basin and you’ve stirred it in with a multitude of herbs you gesture to him and he joins you beside the bath, allowing you to strip him of his underclothes. You blush again and avert your gaze to the wall of the tent, your feet, anywhere but his nakedness.

Lacerta sinks into the steaming bath with a groan and rests his head against the back of the tub. “Join me girl, let me see you,” he commands, gesturing to the other side of the tub. You unwrap your cucullus and lay it on the nearby table before discarding your simple rags and stepping into the bath. The water is nearly scalding as you sink into it and you count your blessings that the Legate didn’t feel the need to punish you for burning him.

The water sloshes as you move closer, grabbing a rag from the other table and dunking it into the water and lathering it with soap, bringing it to his chest and beginning to wash him. “So quiet,” he teases. “What happened to your tongue?”

“Sorry, Dominus. What would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything that comes to mind. I just want to hear your voice. It’s nice to hear a woman after battle.”

You nod and begin praising him as you use the cloth to rid him of the sweat and dirt of the day, scrubbing at the scars of his back, lifting his arms to wash under them, working your way down his body and leaving the freshness of the sage soap behind. Your hands pause and you steal a glance up at him when you reach his manhood.

“Don’t be coy now girl, put your hands on me like you mean it.” He grabs your wrist and brings your hand to him below the water, sighing when your fingertips brush against his length. “I like you healer women, such soft hands unlike the working girls. Tell me, where did you come from?”

“Texas, Dominus. I was just a girl when my tribe was conquered. I became a healer like my mother,” you explain as you take him into your trembling hand with the cloth and wash him gently.

“I see. Come, put your back to me and wash yourself. You’ll be spending the night here.” His hands roam your body while you make quick work of your own bath, feeling him against you every time you shift.

You finish and lean to drape the rag over the side of the tub. Lacerta allows you this before taking your breasts into his hands and pulling you back to him. His callused palms feel foreign against your hardened nipples and the sensation raises goosebumps along your arms. He releases you and smooths his hands down your torso, dipping between your legs. Two fingers slide between your lower lips, opening you so that a third can stroke at your clit.

“Tell me, daughter of Venus,” he muses, resting his chin on your shoulder as you squirm against him, gasping as he pleases you with a featherlight touch. “Have you ever known a man between these legs?”

“No, Dominus.”

“Lacerta,” he corrects, easing a finger into you and smiling against your neck when you whimper at the intrusion. “So sensitive, too. Do you touch yourself?”

“No, never D- Lacarta.”

“Say my name again,” he urges, pushing a second digit into your waiting cunt.

“Lacerta,” you whisper, tasting the name and finding you like it.

“Again, louder,” he demands, curling his fingers and making you cry out softly and arch against him. His fingers work you open at a harsh pace, pulling his name and pathetic little sounds from you again.

Suddenly he withdraws from you and stands, stepping out of the tub and toweling himself off. The sudden emptiness draws an indignant whimper from you and you reach out towards him, eyes cast to the rippling water around you.

“Enough, girl,” he chides, “Get out and dry yourself.” You take heed and stand before him, wrapping your arms around yourself as you turn to reach for another towel, rubbing yourself down with the rough cloth. “Good. Go, lie on the bed,” he commands, waving his hand towards the massive piece of furniture. “Get comfortable.”

You cross the tent and feel the coarse sand of the floor as it sticks to the soles of your damp feet. Lacerta’s watchful gaze nearly burns you as you put your knee on the bed and crawl your way up towards the ornate headboard. The mattress dips behind you and Lacerta’s hands move along your buttocks, kneading the tender flesh before sliding around to your hips, grasping them and twisting you to the side, making you roll onto your back. You land with your legs splayed and you instinctively move to close your them, but Lacerta stops you with his callused hands.

“None of that,” he chides, running his hands along the tender flesh inside your thighs, his thumbs coming up to part your lips, inspecting you. You squirm under his touch and he grins, brushing through your folds and over your clit making you whimper. “So wet, so willing. Have you thought of me like this before?”

You nod eagerly in response and turn from him, blushing into the pillow.

“Speak. Look at me.”

“Yes, Lacerta. I’ve wanted no other but you. I’m so happy that you chose me to lay with you tonight.”

His hands leave you and you watch as he takes himself into his large palm, rutting his tip through your essence before sinking into you with a single fluid motion, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. You yelp at the intrusion and your nails clamber for purchase on his shoulders, grounding yourself through the stretch of his cock. The sting turns to pleasure as he rolls his hips against yours, his pelvis grinding against your sensitive clit and you whimper, relaxing around him.

“I’ll keep you longer than tonight. You’ll warm my bed and be here waiting every time I return. You’ll bear my sons and be by my side when I take what is mine.”

His thrusts meet little resistance as he pulls out and spears back into you again and again, taking you into his arms and pulling you against his massive body, the warmth of him sinking into your bones. You cling to him, ankles locked around his lower back, nails biting into the scarred flesh of his shoulders as he lays his claim within you.

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck pulling him closer, chests pressed together, feeling each breath the other takes, greedy fingers tracing up his neck and tugging at his hair. His name is a prayer, a promise, falling from your lips each time pushes himself back into your waiting cunt.

“Lacerta, Lacerta, Lacerta…”

You tumble over the precipice of ecstasy with a sharp cry and he swallows it with a kiss, claiming your mouth with his tongue as you pant against him, your walls spasming around his length as he continues chasing his own release.

He spills himself within you with an almost feminine sound, pushing his seed deeper into you before pulling out and rolling to lay beside you, watching you, enjoying the way you reel from the pleasure he’s given you. He then sits up and gathers your legs in the crook of his arm, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your hips.

“I have business to attend to. Stay like this and wait for my return.”

You nod in response, already dozing as he dresses and calls for a recruit to strap his armor on him. There’s a breeze and then a soft warmth over you, and then he’s gone.

—-

You dream of him while he’s away, his body against yours, warm and heavy, around you, within you. His lips against your skin everywhere he can reach. You sigh and roll your hips to meet his, responding to him even in your sleep. Greedy kisses lavish your neck and chest before his warm tongue lathes against your nipple, a hand coming up to grasp at your other breast. His hair tickles your inner arm and you giggle, eyes fluttering open to find Lacerta truly upon you, your dream a reality as he glances up at you.

“Mh, did I keep your bed warm enough, Dominus,” you tease, taking him into your arms, stretching your neck so that he might kiss it.

Lacerta’s attention leaves your breasts and he kisses up the column of your throat before claiming your lips again. “Plenty. How patient you were, Daughter of Venus. Exactly how I left you, and so ready for me when I returned.”

He keeps his slow pace until he finishes within you one more, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, falling asleep almost instantly and you’re not long to join him.

—

You wake in the morning with his cock still sheathed within you, his arm across your middle as he snores softly beside your head. The day is spent in his bed, mostly with him atop you, sometimes he’s behind you, or he insists you ride him so he can watch the way your tits bounce as he fucks you from below. Sunlight disappears into darkness and you bathe with him once more, his calloused hands all over you beneath your clothes as you help him dress after.

He leads you out of his tent and towards the healers tent so that you can tell your mother that the Legate has decided to keep you. From the Legate’s camp, Fortification Hill blocks the West, hiding the lights of Vegas from the sky and you glance upward at the sky, stopping to stare up at the stars. You reach out and catch his arm, stopping him and he looks to you with confusion as you point skyward.

“Those five stars there, do you see them?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a lizard. They call it Lacerta.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The ones that looked up before us, but long after the planets were named.”

“I’ve never heard of that one before.”

“That’s why I’m telling you, so that those that look up after us may know it.”

“Come on,” he urges, pulling your arm back to your side, shaking his head, but it does little to hide the pleased look on his face.

You walk beside him, bold, having pleased him, and continue talking without worry of consequence.

“Long before the war there was a man in California they called the Lizard King, and the people loved him despite his strangeness. Perhaps you can claim the title for yourself.”

“You think I’m strange?”

You fall silent in realization, but relax when his hand finds the small of your back, his thumb stroking along your hip.

“Perhaps one day I’ll take you somewhere with no light and you can show me more of your strange stars. Now go, speak with your mother and return to me. I’m not finished with you.”

[mask-knife-is-buggys-wife]

Sharing this small excerpt of Lacerta Legate X Reader, to try and gage interest I have not really sat and written something in quite a while.

***************

Lacerta Legate had not always been his name. But he held onto the title with such honor it felt like it had always been a part of him, impossible to imagine without. Much like his armor or magnificent helmet. It was near outlandish to picture the general as anything less than magnificent. And that was what kept you drawn to him. In the cesspool that was the Legions camp, all only knew of violence, unkempt aggression and nothing akin to mercy.

His voice sat above it all, everytime he spoke it was never loud or grating, trying to desperately fill a space with his presence. It wasn't necessary. When he stepped into a tent or out into the fray, a hush would fall for only a moment and his aura held authority. Yet his tone was near gentle. Delicate even at times. Hearing such a voice come from such a man had left you nothing left short of awestruck.

Having been newly captured and kept for nearly a week, you had learned fast what would and wouldn't be wise to do. But unbeknownst to you, something in particular had already saved you from a much more gruesome circumstance.

"A face of a goddess is what I'm told. Show me."

His calm words caught your attention enough, and also confused you enough, to gaze up at him. It wasn't smart to look up at anyone here unless told, but he lacked the bite behind his intent.