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Feb 20

Riding Out the Radstorm

Also on AO3

Pairing: Charon x Ria (lone wanderer OC)

Summary: Ria finds shelter from a radstorm in an old chapel, but she quickly finds out she's not the only one there.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), AU, first meeting, brief nonsexual bondage, very light whump, stuck together, a little fluff and a little angst, mutual masturbation, biting, swearing, smoking, lmk if anything else!

WC: 8.2k words

See them here!

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Thunder rolls much too close for comfort, reverberating in her very bones, and a strong gust of wind washes the smell of ozone over her. She stands, looking up just in time to see a sickeningly green bolt of lightning spiderweb across the darkening sky. Her Pip-Boy’s geiger counter immediately starts ticking — Just a small warning for now, but she knows it’s only going to grow more frantic with each passing minute. A droplet of water falls on her hand, leaving a faint, glowing trail as it slides between her fingers.

“Son of a bitch.” Ria mutters to herself, gathering her findings and haphazardly shoving them into her pack, which is already bulging with scavenged crap.

She hauls it onto her back with a small umph, aware that the heft is only going to slow her down, but still unwilling to drop anything. Hours earlier, she’d been entirely too cocky, swearing she’d be in and out of the scrapyard well before the radstorm had the chance to trail after her shadow.

But unfortunately for her, time had slipped by unnoticed, and the clouds had inched closer as discreetly as serpents through tall grass, until they were right over her. Now she has maybe a little under half an hour to find shelter before she’s well and truly shit out of luck. But where to go from here?

She looks down at her Pip-Boy’s map, scrolling around to try to find anything familiar close by. Obviously, she can’t head south into the thick of the storm, but there’s not much on the way north, less so nearby. Fuck. She’ll have to take her chances and head out there anyway.

Ria runs like the hounds of hell are nipping at her heels, taking great, heaving breaths as her legs pump full speed. More droplets of irradiated water fall around her, and she tries to dodge them as best as she can. She cringes as another bolt of lightning hits a bare tree a few yards away from her, and somehow the fright manages to make her go even faster.

But it’s still not fast enough to outrun the rain.

The trickle soon turns into a full on shower, plastering her bangs to her forehead and weighing down the leather of her vault suit. The uneven terrain becomes more difficult to navigate as the soil beneath turns slick, churning into mud beneath her boots. She spits out any water that manages to get into her mouth, already feeling nauseous from the radiation. A strange metallic taste lingers at the back of her throat, and she swallows down the bile that tries to rise.

She ignores the searing pain in her shoulders and the burning in her lungs, pure adrenaline taking over. She doesn’t want to think about how long she’s been running, or how long she’ll have to keep it up. She bites back a cry, which becomes a whimper in her throat, and forces herself to focus on keeping an eye on her surroundings. Even a Yao Guai den would be preferable to all that deadly exposure, vast as the eye can see. For the first time in a very long time, she considers praying.

But before she can even try, her boot suddenly catches on something, and the world momentarily blurs as she falls on her hands and knees. Despite the blooming pain, she scrabbles back to her feet and looks back to see the culprit is a broken headstone, the name of the deceased lost to time. Glancing around, she realizes there’s more of them around her, all in various states of ruin. The fact that she’s in a cemetery could either be a very bad omen, or it could mean she’s close to a chapel.

To Ria’s immense luck, it’s the latter. She sees the steeple first, the spire mostly intact, though the bell is missing from the belfry, no longer needed to call anyone to mass. Or to refuge, for that matter. Still, she almost weeps with relief as she hurries towards it, her vision starting to swim as she mentally chants thank you, thank you, thank you.

She bursts through the front doors, shutting them behind her and leaning her back against them heavily. Her chest is heaving, and her heart seems a little too eager to crawl up her throat and jump out, but she fucking made it. All she needs to do now is find some RadAway in her pack and…

Someone nearby clears their throat, and her stomach drops. A large ghoul rises from the pew he was sitting on, his heavily scarred face impassive as he takes her in. She freezes like prey caught in a hunter’s scope, which is very uncharacteristic of her, and the two maintain charged eye contact. Well, at least he’s not a feral, but he still looks like a mean son of a bitch…

He takes a step forward, but Ria points a finger at him menacingly, summoning the last of her furor to make him halt.

“Don’t come any closer or…” She wavers in place, her face taking on a sickly green hue. “Or I-I’ll kill you!”

Her legs turn to jelly and slowly give out. She slides down until she slumps on her ass, eyes rolling in her skull as blood trickles out of her nose. Her head tips back, and with a small whimper, she passes out. Charon stares at her for a long moment, dumbfounded. Then, he cautiously approaches, bracing himself for the possibility of her springing up and attacking him.

But she doesn’t – She’s out cold. He further ensures it by nudging her leg with his boot, her head lolling to one side. There’s an uptick in her geiger counter as thunder rumbles outside, the rain battering against the old structure. He grimaces, debating his options.

Truthfully, he’s not too eager to be suddenly stuck with this smoothskin, especially knowing she’s aggressive. Of course, he’s much taller and broader than her, but somehow he doesn’t think she’d make it easy to subdue her if it came down to it. He almost snorts at the thought, but at least he knows better than to underestimate her. That makes him wiser than most.

It’s also not his responsibility to make sure she doesn’t die of radiation poisoning – or worse, ghoulify – but he finds he can’t just stand by and watch, either. It would be no better to be stuck with her corpse for hours until the rain finally let up. He’d much rather risk her trying to strangle him upon waking up… Or maybe he can even avoid it altogether, if he can find something to tie her hands with.

But first thing’s first.

With a long suffering sigh, he starts to dig through her overflowing pack, tossing stuff out until he finds the yellow IV bag he needs. He rolls up one of her sleeves so he can stick the IV in her forearm, and he uses the doorknob to hang up the bag.

He searches around for rope, or cables, or anything else that might be useful, but he comes up empty. Left with no other choice, he pulls his belt out of the loops and uses it to bind her wrists together tightly. He tugs on it twice to make sure she won’t be able to easily slip free and nods, satisfied. Can’t be too careful.

And then, all he has left to do is wait. His first instinct is to go back to his original spot, all the way at the other side of the room, but something makes him remain in place. Curiosity, maybe, but he can’t be certain it’s just that. He takes the opportunity to look at her more closely, tilting his head to match the angle of hers.

The freckles dusting her nose and cheeks are the first thing he notices, unearthing a memory that had been buried deep within his muddled mind. He… He used to have them, too, but thrice as many, and not just on his face. He can’t really remember what they’d looked like on him, but they still manage to strike him on the rare occasions he sees them on others. He feels the fleeting urge to trace them with his fingers, but his hand only twitches at his side.

He can also tell she recently had a black eye, its faded yellow and red ghost lingering right over her cheekbone. The fact that she’s there tells him she won the fight, and given that she’s wearing a vault suit, he can’t help being a little impressed. He wonders if she’s the girl he’s often heard about on the radio, her endless escapades broadcasted between pre-war songs.

She seems quite young for all the things she’s said to have accomplished — somewhere in her early twenties, if he had to guess — but he supposes nothing is impossible in the world they live in. After all, his very existence is proof of that.

He can’t even remember the last time he’d been intrigued by anyone, and so he doesn’t recognize the feeling at first. He involuntarily leans a little closer, noticing a stray lash on her cheek. He starts to reach out to wipe it away…

She stirs slightly, turning her face away, and he immediately jerks back. He waits for a few frantic heartbeats, mortified, but she doesn’t awaken quite yet. Already, she’s looking less sickly, and her nose stopped bleeding, but she is shivering. He lets himself relax some, getting up to build a fire nearby instead of continuing to sit idly. The last thing he needs is to be caught staring.

Ria has strange, feverish dreams while she’s out — Two headed deathclaws, stampeding brahmin with feral ghouls riding on their backs, and even UFOs zipping through a neon green sky. It all devolves into a nightmarish parade, without a distinct beginning or end, making her eyes twitch rapidly under the lids. Her brain fights hard to rouse her, sending desperate signals to her tight muscles, until finally her eyes snap open with a gasp.

She takes in her surroundings, disoriented and still a little dizzy. She’s unsure of how much time has passed, and she momentarily forgets how she even got there. Reality catches up to her slowly as she listens to the rain’s drumming and gazes up at the large, unbroken cross on the wall behind the pulpit. She tries to move her arm, but she suddenly realizes that not only is she hooked up to some RadAway, but she’s also bound.

“What the…” She strains against the belt, but it doesn’t give. Then she spots the ghoul from earlier feeding pieces of a broken chair to a small fire among the pews, and she raises her voice. “Hey! What the hell is this about!?”

The ghoul straightens to his full, imposing height, his expression unchanging as he gives her a once over.

“Precaution,” he says, as though it should be obvious. “You threatened to kill me.”

Ah, yeah, there was that… Well, he better not be expecting an apology, because it’s not coming.

Then another thing strikes her – She’s very much not dead. He could’ve easily just let her slip away into oblivion, and yet there she still is, ready to claw him apart at the next given opportunity. Obviously, he foresaw this possibility, but that still doesn’t explain his actions.

She’s not too happy at the thought of him being so close to her while unconscious, either, but at least it seems he mostly kept his hands to himself. Even this small act of chivalry is suspicious, but she’s certainly not about to start complaining.

Still, Ria narrows her eyes at him distrustfully. “If I’m that much of a threat to you, why even bother?”

He thinks about it for a moment, but then he just shrugs. He should have a better answer, but he doesn’t, even if it’s not satisfactory for her. Even if he did have one, he would have a hard time articulating it, anyway.

She scoffs. “So, what, I’m your prisoner now or something?”

He shakes his head, mildly annoyed. “You are welcome to go face the storm at any time, I will not stop you. Nor will I be offering assistance again.”

She hums thoughtfully, sizing him up, but she already knows leaving would basically be suicide. Bunking down with a complete stranger is a marginally better choice, but she figures that if he wanted to hurt her, he probably would’ve already done so. It’s enough grounds for her to offer a tentative truce, even if neither of them seem too keen for it.

She sighs, plastering on what she considers to be her most charming smile, missing front tooth and all. Somehow, it doesn’t do much to comfort him. She really is no stranger to a fight.

“Fine. You got me there,” she says. “If I can promise there’ll be no unwarranted violence, will you at least untie me?”

He hesitates, debating whether or not she’s just trying to bait him. She raises her arms, batting her lashes and even pouting a little, a tactic he suspects has worked well for her in the past. He doesn’t like that it’s sort of working on him, too, but luckily he has better self control than most.

“Oh, come on, you’ve been nice to me so far. Don’t start being mean by making me beg.” As a gust of wind whistles through one of the broken windows, she suppresses a shiver, clenching her teeth. “God, it’s fucking freezing in here. I guess I’ll just die of hypothermia instead…”

He sighs at her melodrama — considering he built the fire mostly for her benefit — and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Promise first,” he says. “Then I will untie you.”

She forces herself not to roll her eyes. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t try to harm you.”

He approaches slowly, as though she’s some sort of feral creature, and kneels in front of her. She keeps her gaze trained on his face as he undoes the belt, careful not to actually touch her. He looks up, and when their eyes meet, one corner of her lips curls up with amusement. For a moment, he seems entranced by her eyes, like two dark chasms in the low light, but then he hastily draws back as if burnt.

Her gaze drops as he stands, his pants hanging low on his hips, offering a rather tantalizing — though unexpected — glimpse of his scarred abdomen. The jut of his hipbones and the cords of exposed muscle leading further south, like a roadmap for her to follow. She can’t help gawping, eyebrows raised nearly up to her hairline. She’s even more surprised to feel some disappointment when he pulls them back up, looping his belt back in place in record time. She shakes the image out of her head and looks down, swallowing hard.

The silence is a tangible third party, lingering awkwardly between them, teetering on the edge of something.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” She finally asks, busying herself by rubbing at the indentations on her wrists, and carefully removing the IV from her forearm.

“Charon,” he says, infinitely grateful his face is no longer able to flush a bright red. He clears his throat, trying to distract her from the fact that he’s a little flustered. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She groans with the effort of heaving herself up, using the door behind her for support, her legs screaming in protest after all that crazed running. “I’m Ria, by the way. I guess I should, um, thank you for taking care of me. That wouldn’t have been a fun way to go.”

Charon grunts in acknowledgement, inclining his head towards the fire as he hears the chatter of her teeth.

“You are still shivering. I suggest you go warm up.”

She wraps her arms around herself, trying to rub some preliminary warmth into them. “Yeah, I guess I should take my suit off first, though. It’s still pretty damp.”

He nods stiffly, willing his mind not to wander towards uncharted, forbidden territory. Lucky he can’t sweat, either. But why this smoothskin girl barely half his size has him so nervous, he’s just not sure. It’s way beyond the threat to his life — which, honestly, he hadn’t taken too seriously — but it’s lacking a name he can’t pinpoint.

So much uncertainty unnerves him even more, and for once, he almost wishes he was back at the Ninth Circle already. Technically, he could just hike the rest of the way through the downpour with no issues, but he’d much rather use the storm as an excuse to be late. He’ll take any opportunity to spite his employer, even just a little bit, and stalling his ultrajet shipments is definitely one of them.

Charon pretends not to watch as she bends down to dig out an extra shirt from her pack, but she frowns when she can’t find any bottoms. She nearly flings everything out in her desperation, never before wishing she would see a pair of jeans more, but still no luck. Well, shit.

At the very least, she does have an old blanket she can wear as a makeshift skirt, but she’ll have to hold it up by hand. Not the first time she’s had to improvise clothing, but now she kind of understands how he’d felt earlier. She wonders if he’ll return the favor of ogling her, but she finds she wouldn’t really mind if he did.

Ria goes into the broom closet to change, and he can faintly hear the drag of her zipper while he stares at the dancing flames in front of him. He doesn’t look up when she returns in her makeshift outfit, laying the suit out near the fire before plopping down herself. She sighs contentedly, stretching out her legs in front of her and wiggling her toes.

The fire casts orange light on the bare skin of her calf, which peeks out of the slit where the blanket meets. She leans back, and his eyes dare to stray further up, but when they land on her chest, he almost makes a choking noise. Her thin tank top does a poor job of concealing much, and the fact that she’s not wearing a bra doesn’t help at all. There’s a slight stirring against his codpiece, and he knows he could be in big trouble.

Charon starts to get up, still pointedly looking away, and reaches for his stuff.

“Um, where are you going?” She asks.

“I will make myself scarce,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder and quickly looking away again. “There is enough space for the two of us in here, so you can have your privacy.”

“Huh?” She raises an eyebrow, confused, and glances down at herself. “Oh, that… What? You've never seen a pair of tits before?” She tilts her head to one side, teasing. “Or, don’t tell me, are you actually scared of me?”

Scared? No. Intimidated? Very much so. It’s another foreign feeling for him, and he really doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. As for seeing a pair of tits, well, he doesn’t think the tweaking, half-naked raiders he’s had to shoot down necessarily count. Nudity in general is not uncommon in the wasteland, so it usually barely even phases him, but it’s a totally different matter when he actually is interested in looking.

“I really don’t mind,” she adds after his prolonged silence. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned out here, it’s that I can’t really afford to be a prude. Not that I ever really was, anyway, but vault dwellers are usually more sensitive about that sorta thing…”

He swallows hard. “Are you certain?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, but I won’t stop you if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought, I don’t know, maybe we could get to know each other a little while we wait for the storm to let up. I mean, who knows how long we’ll be stuck here together?”

He considers it a moment longer, then nods once. “Very well.”

Awkwardly, he sits back down, his back ramrod straight. She can’t help chuckling, the sound drawing his eyes over again. Seeing her smile, he wants to ask for the story of her missing tooth, but he holds his tongue. It would be too personal to ask a stranger about old wounds, and it would be of no use to carry them with him if the likelihood of seeing her again is nearly nonexistent.

…

Would he want to see her again?

Ria sighs tiredly, settling on her side and propping her head up on her hand. The fire is already making her look even livelier, adding color to her cheeks. He wonders if he, in turn, looks even more ghoulish, but as her eyes seek him, she doesn’t seem put off at all.

“So, you don’t really strike me as some religious hermit whose home I broke into,” she says. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

He almost snorts at such a ridiculous idea, shaking his head. She waits for him to elaborate, her encouraging smile wavering slightly when he doesn’t. Tough nut to crack, this one.

“Right… So how did you end up here, then?”

He gives her the short version. “My employer sent me on an errand, and I was heading south, back to Underworld.”

He hadn’t meant to tell her where he could be found, but it slipped off his tongue all the same. Now he can’t take it back, but he doesn’t exactly regret it. Recognition flashes in her eyes, surprising him.

“Underworld, huh?” She muses. “I have a friend from there, actually. Do you know Carol? I’ve been meaning to bring her some letters from him.”

Gob, he realizes. That must mean she lives in Megaton, or at least spends a fair amount of time there. Not that it really matters, given that he won’t be able to go out of his way to search for her, but he’ll still hold onto this small piece of information. If only so she doesn’t vanish into thin air as soon as they part ways, like nothing more than a hazy dream peeling itself from his ancient mind.

“I know Carol,” he says, and even though he doesn’t owe her anything, he adds, “I can take the letters for you, if you wish.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh, it’s alright. I kinda wanna meet her in person, and I wouldn’t mind taking a look around the place.”

In response, he grunts, hiding the small thrill that races down his spine, and she chuckles once again.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

“No,” he says.

This is actually the most he’s talked in a good, long while. Conversation is not usually expected of him, but he is very used to listening. For once, though, he wants to try, even if he’s not sure how to go about it.

And so — as is usual of him — he’s brusque even with words that aren’t really meant to be offensive.

“It was foolish of you to be running around in the rain.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Well, it’s not like I had a choice. I was caught off guard, which, okay, was kind of stupid of me… But hey! I was extremely lucky that my, uh, knight in leather armor was here to save me, right?”

“Yes,” he says, fishing out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Yes, you were.”

She watches as he tucks one between his teeth and lights it, exhaling blue-gray smoke through his nasal cavity. The initial rush of nicotine seems to help him relax, the tense square of his shoulders starting to round out a little. He even leans back against the wall, extending one leg in front of him while keeping the other one bent, his glowing blue eyes studiously fixed on the fire all the while.

It’s clear he has a hard time looking at her for more than a second, and she wonders if he has an aversion to what ghouls so affectionately call smoothskins. From what she can tell, he doesn’t seem disgusted by her, but his skittishness is not entirely unexpected. Tenpenny Tower had shown her just how bad things could get between the two groups, but at least she’d already taken care of that particular problem.

Though Ria’s initial assessment of Charon is not entirely wrong — he definitely looks mean, perhaps even frightening to some — she doesn’t consider him to be an eyesore. She could tell he’d expected her to try to scramble away from him as soon as she regained consciousness, having seen the surprise on his face when she didn’t, her defiant gaze unwavering. But she hasn’t been a stranger to ghouls for some time, and she’s never really had an aversion towards them, not even when she first left the vault. If anything, she often feels much safer around them than regular humans — unless they’re feral, of course.

And besides, she has a feeling that despite his rough exterior, the ghoul next to her might have some softness underneath. It’s just about peeling the layers back to find it — both metaphorically and literally speaking. At the thought, warmth snakes up her legs and settles comfortably at the apex of her thighs, making her squeeze her knees together.

Charon catches her staring, but she doesn’t coyly look away when he raises a brow muscle inquisitively.

“Is there a problem?”

She bites her lip in a futile attempt at containing a grin. “What? Are you shy? I’m just looking at you.”

He shifts in his seat. “Have you never seen a ghoul before?”

“I have,” she says, but infuriatingly doesn’t elaborate.

There’s a slightly mischievous edge to her grin as she thinks of Gob back in Megaton — Such a sweetheart, and such an eager kisser, too. Ria vaguely wonders if Charon has the latter in common with him.

She suppresses a shudder, the skin of her arms prickling with gooseflesh.

“You are still shivering,” he notes.

“It’s still kinda cold,” she says, though in truth it’s mostly her bare feet poking out of the blanket that are cold. “Or maybe I’m a bit feverish… I don’t know. You don’t happen to have another blanket, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“Yeah, figures. I guess ghouls do run pretty hot, huh?” She gives him a slow once over, and he immediately knows what she’s going to ask. “You wouldn’t mind… getting a little closer, would you? We can just sit next to each other, that should be enough.”

He hesitates, a small part of him still unsure she isn’t going to take any opportunity to stab him in the back, but then he tosses the cigarette’s filter into the fire and wordlessly scooches closer. She sits up, confidently nestling closer to his side, thigh and arm pressed against his. He tenses up once again, but she lets out a soft, contented sigh.

“Oh yeah, you’re warm alright,” she says, rubbing her palms together to bring back feeling to her fingers, which usually get colder faster than the rest of her.

Thoughtlessly, he offers his hand to help, and she places both of hers on his palm. He sandwiches them with his other hand, thumb swiping over her soft – albeit a little chapped – knuckles. They both look down at that point of contact for a moment, their bent heads leaning a little closer. Then she lifts her eyes to find him looking at her face, and he notices her pupils are large and dark, nearly swallowing her brown irises.

Neither of them move, stuck in a limbo between desire and cautious inaction. This time, though, Charon feels slightly more comfortable at her nearness, and he doesn’t avert his gaze right away.

“Thank you,” she murmurs when he lets go of her, the echo sensation of his calloused hands lingering. “I might need that again at some point.”

He nods, about to say something, but a loud clap of thunder makes them both look towards the window. The deep rumbling sounds almost mocking, as though nature is highly amused at their helplessness. Lightning cracks in the crescent shape of a sly grin, or perhaps her eyes are just playing tricks on her. Radiation induced delirium, maybe.

In the past, such a setback would have really annoyed her, but now she barely even gives it a second thought. She’s more than glad to stay put, with his heat slowly seeping into her. If anything, she wants to drag it closer, down to her very bones.

“Well, it looks like we’re in for a very long night,” she says, turning back to him. “What do you usually do to pass the time? I’m open to suggestions.”

He thinks of all the long hours he has to spend in the corner of the dimly lit bar, voiceless and unacknowledged. A lot of that time is spent in his own mind, but he finds himself waiting, too. Both for orders from his employer, and for something else, though he’s not quite sure what. He decides to omit this part, though, not wanting to shed too much light on his everyday life at the Ninth Circle, bleak as it is.

“I think,” he says simply, hoping she doesn’t press the subject.

She huffs, nose wrinkling slightly. “Hmm, well I don’t know about you, but thinking’s the last thing I wanna do right now. I already do that enough on a regular day.”

He tilts his head to one side. “Then what do you suggest?”

Her gaze drops to his mouth for a moment, and she chews on her bottom lip as she feels a flutter of anticipation in her belly.

“Close your eyes,” she says, but he only narrows them distrustfully. “Oh, come on, Charon. I already promised I’ll behave. I just want to try something.”

“Try what?”

She raises both eyebrows, giving him a look that says that’s for me to know and you to find out. He grunts, reining in his impatience, and letting curiosity overrule it. Finally, he relents with a sigh, hearing her breathy chuckle.

His heartbeat is too loud in his ears as he waits for something to happen, every moment seeming to stretch on endlessly. She shifts, slowly leaning forward, and he suddenly feels something soft tentatively brush against his mouth. His breathing stutters, but despite his shock, he doesn’t move away, much less flinch.

He opens his eyes just a sliver and sees her drawing back to look at him, her freckled cheeks flushed red. He finds himself reaching out and pulling her towards him, mashing his mouth against hers. She squeaks in surprise, but doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back, placing her hands on his shoulders.

Yup, he’s an eager kisser, alright.

It’s like a switch has been flipped inside of him, letting all he’s contained spill over. He barely recognizes himself at that moment, driven by something inside him that demands more, more, more. It’s not just about her, necessarily — though she certainly helps, so boldly taking what she wants — but it’s also that he had long forgotten what it’s like to be touched like this.

To be wanted at all.

Charon shoves his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers. She tries to yield to his frantic pace, barely able to keep up, but she eventually has to take the reins. She clasps his scarred face between her hands and pulls away just enough to get his attention, though his mouth chases hers at first.

“Slow down.” Ria giggles, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his upper lip, but pulling back when he tries to dive in again. “We’ve got time, remember?”

“It is still limited,” he manages to pant, noticing that her tank top hiked up a little, and his hands are gripping her hips. When did that happen?

Something flickers over her face, softening her eyes for a moment, but it goes away just as quickly. Her easy grin returns as though it never faltered, her hands sliding back to his shoulders and squeezing them.

“Just focus on the here and now,” she says, reassuring. “The thinking can come later– Except, wait, that actually reminds me...”

She slips out of his grip and half crawls over to her pack, holding the blanket up with one hand. He unabashedly takes the opportunity to ogle her ass while she’s on all fours, and he thinks to remove some of his armor pieces for both of their benefits. Of course, it’s the codpiece that comes off first, though he surreptitiously tries to cover his not-so-little problem with one hand.

“Shit.” Ria mutters as she sits back on her haunches, shaking out the last tablet of Rad-X she has onto her palm. “Well, I guess this’ll have to do for now. I’m not risking any more radiation poisoning tonight.”

She swallows it dry and turns to see him looking at her with one brow muscle raised. She returns the gesture, one hand on her hip.

“What? I like to be prepared for anything.” She tosses aside the empty Rad-X bottle and sets her hands back on the floor. “Or mostly prepared, at least.”

She crawls back towards him unhurriedly, like a pantheress closing in on what’s about to be her dinner. And oh, if it doesn’t offer a rather tantalizing view down her shirt, which he finally allows himself to look at. She nudges herself between his knees, tilting her head back so their faces meet, and he unthinkingly reaches out to grasp what he was just admiring.

She clasps his wrist before his fingers make contact, her breath fanning over the lower half of his face.

“Easy there,” she murmurs against his mouth, grinning mischievously. “I’ve cut fingers off for less.”

They hold each other’s gazes as he swallows hard, exhaling slowly through his nasal cavity. Her smile widens, taking on a sharper edge, but he doesn’t mind the threat this time around. He doesn’t even think to remind her of her promise.

“Go on,” she encourages, moving to kiss his jaw. “Ask me nicely.”

Charon knows he doesn’t have to comply. She’s not his employer, so he’s not forced to obey, or to play her little games, and yet…

“May I touch?” He rasps.

In response, she lets go of his wrist, pushing her chest forward. He pushes the fabric down just enough to expose her, and his rough hands on her soft skin make her shudder. He feels her nipples pebbling under his touch, and a noise dangerously close to a whimper almost leaves him. She pushes the straps of her tank top down her arms and sighs against his neck, breathing in his scent of tobacco, gunpowder, and leather.

She traces her lips and tongue over ruined flesh and exposed sections of muscle, cognizant of how sensitive it all must be, until she reaches his mouth again. His hands continue their exploration as her tongue drags over his, and she hisses softly as he gets excited and pinches her nipples a little too hard. It sends a pulse straight to her core, muscles spasming around nothing.

Charon leans back so she can crawl onto his lap, and she breaks the kiss only to gawp at him as she settles down where he’s aching the most. She lets out a low whistle, eyes wide with awe.

“Someone’s excited…” she comments, a little hum in her throat as he twitches under the layer of leather between them.

He’s barely listening, too focused on her chest and just how much he wants to put his mouth all over it — All over her, really, the more she reveals herself to him. She doesn’t make him ask this time, instead arching her back in silent offering. He cups her breasts in his hands, treating them like a revelation, and she gingerly cups the back of his head with one hand to guide him.

He pushes them together and laves them with broad strokes of his eager tongue, getting a faint taste of her sweat in the process. Most of his tastebuds were burned off when he turned, but the salty tang of it still stands out to him, beguiling. It makes his hunger intensify even more, yawning open like a bottomless pit.

As with his kisses, he is sloppy, greedy even, and he feels the overwhelming urge to leave a mark so she can remember him at least for the next couple of days. The pleased hums she was trying to keep behind her lips turn into a pained yelp as his teeth come into play, but he barely even registers the smack she delivers to the back of his head.

“Fucking hell. You’re not supposed to actually eat them!” She reprimands, squirming on his lap as she glares daggers at him.“You better not be going feral right now, I swear…”

He grunts dismissively, pulling back to inspect the indentations of his teeth on her warm brown skin, which are sure to bruise purple and red come morning. It does wonders for his ego, making his cock pulse proudly against her once more, and he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Kiss it better,” she demands, urging him by grinding her hips against him. “That wasn’t very nice.”

He bucks up into her, one hand disengaging from her tits to grip her hip, trying to guide her movements. She lets him, though painfully slow, and tugs at a little patch of red hair he has at his nape. Again, Charon does as told — He’s quickly finding he doesn’t really mind being bossed around by her, especially not while she’s asking for things he already wants to do.

And certainly not when the heat of her cunt manages to seep through the leather of his pants, warming him up so nicely. He could definitely do without the extra layer, though.

As if reading his mind, she unwinds the blanket from her hips and tosses it aside along with her tank top. Charon hooks his thumb on the edge of her panties, keen to get rid of them as well, but she refuses to get off his lap for the time being.

“You’re so impatient, you know that?” She clicks her tongue in disapproval, reaching between their bodies to undo his belt. “Did you even stop to think I might want to have my turn first?”

She licks her lips as though savoring him already, and he feels a thrill like no other at the prospect of her hot mouth wrapped around his mangled cock. Pushing it all the way down her snug throat, making her gag as she looks up at him pleadingly, tears gathering at her lashes…

His fantasies nearly carry him away, running wild and heady, but it’s not until she’s easing him out of his pants that he remembers the singular Rad-X she had. Way too little protection against all he’d unleash on her — in her — and so he knows he can’t let her do it, even if it pains him greatly.

Her fingers are brushing over the thick, scarred head when he clasps her wrist, much like she’d done to him earlier. Her glassy eyed look and parted lips don’t help, but his resolve is firm.

“We cannot,” he says slowly. “You would get sick again.”

She bites her bottom lip thoughtfully, staring at him for so long that he’s momentarily unsure she even heard him.

“You’re right.” She shakes the lustful haze out of her head, blinking. “But it’s okay, it’s no biggie. Well, it is, but… You know what I mean. We can still do other stuff, though.”

He has a few ideas already, but he’s more curious to hear what she’ll propose.

“Like what?”

Her wrist strains against his grip until her fingertips brush him again, gathering some pre-cum from his leaking slit. She chuckles as he grits his teeth, letting out a short grunt.

“I could spell it out for you,” she husks, tilting her head to the side. “Or I could just show you.”

He lets go of her wrist, his remaining nerve endings alight with anticipation. She lets saliva pool on her tongue before spitting it onto her cupped palm, reaching down to spread it over his shaft. His hips involuntarily buck up into her grasp, and he can’t help another grunt, which is starting to sound like music to her ears.

For a moment, he freezes, still in disbelief he’s being granted such pleasure. He knows what he’s working with — Nothing like the smooth, pink vault dweller cock she’s probably used to, but hideous and ravaged by radiation, missing half of its skin. Yet she doesn’t seem to mind it at all, instead a little enraptured by it jutting proudly between their bodies.

Drool threatens to slip out of the corner of her slack mouth, and she quickly wipes it away with her free hand, giggling.

“See how you’ve got me?” She husks, winking.

Indeed, he does, and what a marvel she is to behold. The savage urge to tackle her onto her back, push her legs all the way behind her head, and fuck her raw and mercilessly rises within him. But instead, he reaches up to grasp her chin, his thumb smearing her saliva all over her plush lips. She flicks her tongue over the pad before taking it into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she gives him a little taste of her skills.

Her hand focuses on the head of his cock at first, slow strokes to gather more of his arousal and spread it all over. It’s already much better than when he does it, late at night in the darkness, when the bar has long been empty. He had virtually no imagination then, merely going through the motions for some sort of release, but now he’ll have plenty of material to look back upon. It’ll just be harder to imagine it’s her soft, much smaller hand next time he’s fucking his fist, but he’s not going to let it deter him.

Ria gives him a low-lashed look as she releases his thumb to ask, “Do you wanna return the favor?”

If he’d been able to nod any faster, he’s sure he’d have snapped his neck. With a sultry chuckle, she reaches behind herself with her free hand and pulls her panties to the side. Then she unlatches his hand from her hip and guides it to her slippery cunt, which has already left her inner thighs sticky. He makes a strangled noise as his fingers easily glide through her labia, her legs jerking as they trace over the soft pearl right at the very top.

Her grip on him tightens some, her wrist flicking intermittently as she strokes more and more of his length. It’s hard to concentrate, but he tries to match her rhythm as he clumsily touches her, trying to figure out which spots are most sensitive. The fact that she’s soaked, cunt drooling much like her mouth did, all because of him, makes his balls ache. He knows he’s not going to last very long, but he doesn’t want her to stop any time soon.

She leans her forehead against his, their harsh breaths and racing pulses mingling. Slick sounds and soft moans join the drumming of the rain and the fire’s crackling, creating a heady, passionate symphony. Ria grinds her hips against his hand wantonly, pushing them back in a desperate attempt to fuck herself on his fingers.

Charon gets the hint eventually, plunging his middle finger into the molten heat of her cunt without further preamble. She whines, burying her face in his neck as the tight, wet muscle spasms, sucking his finger in deeper. Her pace falters for a moment, but he doesn’t mind too much, especially as she sighs his name in his ear.

He adds a second finger without giving her much time to adjust, eliciting another high pitched cry from her. He’s lacking in terms of finesse, and so she has to keep rocking her hips in order to aid him, but luckily, due to the angle, the heel of his palm presses against her clit with each thrust of his fingers. His hips are also bucking with wild abandon by then, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine they’re actually fucking.

Heat sparks behind her navel soon enough, her muscles fluttering desperately around his digits as she starts to chase her high. She clutches his bicep with her free hand to anchor herself, her toes curling and her eyes rolling back in their sockets.

“Faster,” she pants, her own hand matching the speed she desires, sending him growling. “F-fuck, oh fuck… Don’t stop!”

Charon’s abdominal muscles contract painfully, as do his balls, but it’s not until she sinks her teeth into his shoulder that he’s dragged into that white-hot oblivion along with her. He groans, his whole body stiffening as she spasms against him, whimpering like a wounded animal. She grips the base of his cock as thick ropes of his spend shoot up and splatter all over her tits and stomach, branding her.

He doesn’t pull his hand away until she’s ridden her orgasm all the way through, both of them panting as though they just ran a marathon – Or perhaps escaped a radstorm, which is exactly what had led them to that moment. Who would have thought? Certainly not him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to complain.

He expects her to pull back and grow cold now that they’ve both gotten what they wanted, but instead she kisses him once more, sweet and slow, as though she’s thanking him. Then she does draw back, but only to look down at the mess he made of her, fascinated by the faint green luminescence of his radioactive semen. She smiles up at him, devious, and it’s almost enough to stir his cock back to life.

Instead, he tucks himself back in his pants and looks around for something to clean her up with. She lays back to let him take care of her once more, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Oh man, I definitely needed that. It had been a while,” she says, sighing contentedly as he wipes her down with an old rag he had in his pack. “Did you have fun?”

He grunts in assent, seeming a lot more careful about touching her body now that they’re not in the heat of the moment. She lets out an amused huff, watching him work even if he’s avoiding her eye. She can’t imagine he’s suddenly gotten shy, but the idea of it is quite charming. Still, she wants to make him more comfortable, and so she opens her arms once he’s done, beckoning him.

“C’mere,” she says with a yawn as he tosses the rag into the flames. “How about a little nap? You left me all tuckered out.”

He hesitates, unsure what to do, or say, or feel, but then he stiffly lies down next to her, arms at his sides. She scooches closer, pressing the length of her body against his side, leg hooking over his. When it comes to affection, even in its smallest form, Ria has never been stingy with it – As long as it’s someone who deserves it, of course, and in her eyes, Charon seems long overdue.

He doesn’t move other than to glance at her from the corner of her eye as she rests her head on his bicep. He’s deliciously warm all over, so it’s hard for her not to be lulled into complete relaxation, yawning once again as she rubs her cheek against him like a cat.

“Hmmm, who knows, maybe when we’re back up, we could even go for round two,” she mumbles, her eyes slipping closed. “Just you wait until I get my energy back…”

He snorts, but says nothing, listening to her breathing slowly even out. He stares at the ceiling for a while, replaying everything in his mind over and over again, like a neverending song. He allows himself to look at her serene face as she sleeps, reassuring himself that it was all real, that she’s still there. He becomes so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice himself drifting off, images of her following him into dreams.

When he wakes back up, many hours later, it’s utterly quiet. Not only has the rain stopped and the fire died down, but she’s also nowhere to be seen. He sits up, tilting his head to try to hear anything in any of the adjacent rooms, but nothing comes. He notices her things are gone, too, and he grimaces as his stomach sinks. He should have known.

But then, before he can retreat into the darkness of his overthinking, he spots an old scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to find a short note in loopy handwriting inside.

Had to run, sorry for not saying bye. Just know I expect a full tour of Underworld when I come visit. Be prepared ;) XO, Ria.

And for once in what feels like forever, Charon smiles.

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