It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’
Volume 2 Omake Collection
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Do these jokes make no sense to you? Better read IKROAH Vol. 2 if you haven't already! Or re-read it if you have, now, because it's the perfect time to catch up.
Remember the first omake collection? From Volume 1? From 2021?? Well they're back! And long overdue for Volume 2, which concluded in May of last year, and which hasn't been succeeded by anything except the covers to Volume 3 which were posted almost a whole year ago.
A big reason for the hiatus was that I once again had to try to completely relearn how to draw; the fact is that I am sick to death of digital coloring and post-processing and that meant I had to finally face my oldest artistic bugbear: inking. Real, actual inking with real, actual ink, and not just bullshitting it like I feel like I've been for years now. These omake strips provided the perfect opportunity to practice a new approach to inking with quick, dirty, simple strips, and I think the results speak for themselves.
Hand-lettering, however, was definitely a mere experiment and not one I think I'll stick with. My hands are too shaky to consistently write legibly, and fucking it up feels so much worse than fucking up anything else with a permanent marker. So that's the one thing I'll probably still have to figure out how to do digitally in a way that'll look good with these inks.
Anyway, Volume 3 kicks off soon, and I do mean soon. I know that IKROAH has been asleep for some time, but folks, I mean this sincerely: 2026 is gonna be the Year of Agnes. There's some real big things coming down the pipe. Stay tuned!
Here's some Jericho and Rotface because I've earned it. (This is janky as hell I had far too many ideas and I am not used to writing these two, very worried they're gonna just feel like Benny and Six 2 electric boogaloo)
Wc:1277
It was a quiet night in Freeside.
Or to put it better. It was a quiet night for Freeside, in the distance there were sounds of gunshots and screams. Typical Freeside affair that the ghoul sitting on the ground was used to.
What he wasn't used to was someone literally dripping blood walking up to him and just... Staring at him.
"... You good?"
The ghoul asks squinting his eyes at the guy in front of him, quickly realizing that it was Jericho, the courier who had been giving him caps for gossip in the area. Currently said courier was covered head to toe in blood and visera. Their pack slung over one arm as they continue to stare at the ghoul, who was now slowly reaching for the knife stowed away behind him.
He wasn't sure that he'd beat the courier if they decided that he was next, but he could at least try.
"You bought a hat."
Rotface looks up at the courier who was still staring but with a slightly softer expression.
"... It looks good on you. Can I rest here for a second? Thanks"
Rotface jumps slightly as the courier unceremoniously plops down next to him with a small groan of pain.
"... No problem."
They lapse into silence, the ghoul wound like a spring while the human next to him was practically melting into the concrete below them. It took her awhile to speak again.
"Sorry for freaking you out, but apparently I'm not allowed into the Mormon fort while like this. Apparently I'll "scare people" you'd think the doctors would be used to a little blood."
Jericho says while looking at him and giving a small jazz hands, little flakes of dried blood on their fingertips coming free and fluttering to the ground. The ghoul watching with a small grimace.
"The Fort? I thought you had digs on the strip"
"Hm? Oh I do, I'm just waiting for medical attention."
Before Rotface can even ask the courier pulls up their pant leg revealing that there was a huge gash in his leg, jagged and bleeding. It clearly wasn't a clean cut probably made by some sort of serrated blade.
"Arcade- he's one of the followers, is grabbing medical supplies for me inside while I was supposed to wait outside... But I wanted to stop by and visit you so I came over here! ...I wasn't really thinking."
Jericho laughs softly her teeth bared in the soft moonlight.
"I got good by a legionary... I don't think they knew what they were getting into."
Rotface stares at them before sighing and reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a ratty handkerchief.
"For your face. You need it."
"... Why?"
"... Because you're drenched in blood."
"I mean yea, but it's no use wasting a perfectly good handkercheif on ya know? I mean its only gonna get drenched... and that'll pretty much ruin it- and then you'll be out a perfectly good-"
Jericho is stopped as the ghoul instead just starts rubbing the blood from his face.
"Well you don't exactly look presentable right now, and what if a customer comes by? then I'm out caps ain't I?"
The courier blinks at Rotface before nodding and leaning into his touch. The ghoul's heart doing an odd fort of flutter at the action.
"So uh... aren't you worried about bleeding out pal?"
The courier waves him off before they start rummaging around their pack then pulling out what was clearly a handful of different chems.
"Nah, who needs to worry when you've got enough Psycho, Jet, and Med-X to kill a man running through your system- Speaking of which do you want anything? my stash is always free for my favorite gossiper."
the courier opened their pack wider, showing off its contents to the ghoul next to her as she takes another dose of psycho.
"Thanks pal but... I don't think the followers need to deal with another chem addict in Freeside."
"Suit yourself! This feels good, Arcade is always so uptight about my little habits. it's not like I'm forcing Daytripper down his throat, although maybe that'd get him to not be so uptight... don't tell him I said that, that was mean and I didn't mean it.
The ghoul blinks at the courier's regretful expression before sighing.
"My lips are sealed Jerry"
The courier looks over at him, the chems clearly in effect.
"Jerry? I get a nickname? Ah hell I love it."
The courier laughs and the ghoul laughs with xem, albeit a tad more strained than Jericho.
"I should come up with a nickname for you too, something better than 'Rotface' that's so rude? who started calling you that? I'll kill them."
The ghoul in question snorts at the bluntness of the courier's statement.
"Been so long that I wouldn't be able to tell you if I tried."
The Courier frowns before sighing and going back to glancing around the area.
"Well I'm just gonna call you "R" because I'm not calling you Rotface, that's mean and dehumanizing."
"I'm not human though."
"You are in the ways that matter."
The two just stare at each other before footsteps approach them, Jericho perking up.
"Oh? Is that your doctor friend?"
"No... Arcade's boots don't sound that heavy on the concrete."
Out of the shadows comes a Freeside thug, armed with a knife and a pistol.
"Gimme all the caps you've got"
The ghoul instinctively if not a little exasperatedly raises his hands in surrender, while the courier just stares blankly at the thug.
"Are you fucking deaf? I said-"
"Yea I heard you I'm just giving you a chance to turn around. Cuz if you don't bits of your brain are gonna be painting the sidewalk got it?"
The thug freezes for a moment taking a step back, only to snarl and rushing forward.
Rotface watched with something between horror and awe as Jericho grabbed a lead pipe from the ground next to them, managed to stand up despite their injured leg, and swung it full force at the thugs skull, a sickening crack echoing in the night air as blood and brain and bits of skull are caught by the nearby neon lights shining as they spray from the man's head as he is hit full force into the concrete of the ground below, the skin around his neck tearing from the force of it the muscle and ligaments underneath visible as the man chokes on his last breath. And for a moment everything was silent.
"Seriously. Can you go five minutes without killing something."
Rotface jumped as finally the man who must've been 'Arcade' comes from the direction of the fort. The courier rolls her eyes
"He was approaching us with dangerous intent Arcade, I was defending myself."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions Jericho. Oh. Hello there."
The ghoul awkwardly waves as the Doctor notices him. Arcade almost immediately goes back to looking at Jericho, handing them a stimpack.
"Here, for your leg, then get back to the Lucky 38 and wash up."
"Sure thing dad.” Jericho says sarcastically before smiling brightly at the ghoul.
“Bye R! I'm gonna keep thinking of better names for you!"
Jericho stabs his leg with the stimpack before starting off back towards the strip as the doctor watches her go for a moment before nodding awkwardly towards the ghoul and walking back towards the fort. Rotface sighs before looking up at the sky, before standing up and deciding that maybe sitting next to a corpse wasn't the move for the night. Never a dull moment in Freeside.
The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 4 are just below the cut!
Minors, please don’t interact.
Prostitution with Rotface x F!Six
GOODNESS I've waited so long to post something with Rotface 😩 He was like Gob 2.0 for me when I played New Vegas for the first time, just like... INSTANT love for him, ugh ❤️
This one I thought was pretty darn sweet, and a little glimpse into his life on that street corner where Six meets him.
I hope you like it!
Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.
Rotface lounged against his dusty curb like it was an elegant chaise, his body sinking lower and lower down throughout the long, hot day. The coolness of the air was refreshing as the sun bowed its head over the sand in the distance. Patrons, Freeside goers, and tourists alike had all hidden away in their homes or gone off to gamble and sin for the remainder of the night.
But the ghoul had waited in silence, one ruined finger brushing over the neck of some cheap bottle of liquor he’d managed to get his hands on. Some whiskey, or bourbon maybe. Perhaps even rum gone a little bit… off. He didn’t know or care much, his stomach and tongue were impartial, but his head… Oh, his head needed it if he was to make it through another interaction with his favorite patron to date.
And, like he'd called her over with nothing but the mere thought, over she came. It was unmistakable, the telltale click of her shoes on the pavement, the pacing of her steps, unhurried, but anything but relaxed. Even before Six rounded the corner, Rotface could catch her scent wafting on the light breeze: cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and gunpowder. Always a hint of it, no matter what she wished to mask it with.
It embarrassed him to even think it, but her scent was one he wished he could wrap himself in, like some strange desert creature burying itself in the sand for shelter from the elements, he wanted it to envelop him.
Need to get over this shit. Hopefully the drink’ll help.
“Hey, you. Fancy meeting ya ‘round these parts.” Six’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he looked up at her, gazing wide-eyed, as if he was seeing her for the first time.
Damn, how it always feels that way.
Like a bullet to the chest from some Freeside thug, her visage hit him hard.
As per usual, Six was only partially clothed, in some bra-type, cropped shirt thing that only complimented the natural shapely curve of her body, her stomach was left bare, showcasing the smoothness of her skin, making it clear to him again why he’d spent so many hours daydreaming about laying his head upon her for a nap, her plush lap or stomach immeasurably preferable to the curb he usually called his pillow. Her skirt left even less to the imagination, especially from his angle looking up from the floor. Though, no matter what the angle was, the garment was made up of hardly any fabric at all, showcasing Six’s thighs and hips alike, both of which were frequent attendees in his daydreams as well.
Rotface almost openly sighed as he saw her. Though it was nearly a nightly ritual these days, she still managed to draw his street-sharp mind into a tight bundle of fanciful nonsense.
“Nice to see ya, Six.” Rotface managed to rasp out finally, pulling his gaze reluctantly from where it was tied to her form, her face, those eyes.
Suppose it doesn’t matter if I’m actually lookin’ or not. Always see her anyhow. Remember her face better than I do my own these days.
And that ain’t no bad thing.
“Whatcha got there? Something to share, I hope.”
“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it. Already had my fill, rest is for you, dolly.”
“O-ho, what a gentleman you are.” Her smile shot straight into him, like a searing beam of light, right through his chest as she reached down for the bottle in his hand. No flinching away, no mildly disgusted look, no light, hesitant fingers as she brushed her hand with his in the transfer of the bottle from his possession to hers.
“Wish I could take a seat beside you, but… Yeah, gotta stay visible.” She winked at him as she said it, but tipped the bottle back for a long swig a moment later, without even bothering to glance at the label.
Didn’t seem to matter to her either.
“It is still your corner though.” Six wiped delicately at her lipstick-framed mouth as she lowered the bottle down. “No matter who stands at it, they still know it as yours. So, if I’m ever intruding–”
“No way, doll.” He said, almost too quickly. “What’s yours is mine.”
Rotface gestured to the bottle then, a soft expression adorning his face as he looked up at her.
God, it must be obvious. Way I ogle her, night in and out. Maybe the drink wasn’t the best thought I’ve had… me a lil tipsy, her on her way… Could say something I regret.
And she could actually hear it now. Not like my daydreams.
“You know, this street corner ain’t the only thing we got in common, I think.”
Six raised a brow at him questioningly, but nodded a moment later with an odd sort of look upon her face. Another swig of the bottle, and then:
“Hm. You’re right. Must be… Our fashion sense?”
His laugh was much too raucous for the little quip she made, but dammit, the ghoul couldn’t help himself.
Here I am, trying for once to be genuine, and then…
Oh, but how could he ever be mad?
“Well, you do know how much I enjoy lounging on my curb here in the nude. Or in my leather panties. Heh.”
Six giggled herself this time, and he felt proud to have inspired such a lovely refrain.
“Nah, but, in all seriousness, I think… Well, we’re both one of the real people out here, you know? The ones out here trying to survive, yeah, but you’re not an asshole.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He could’ve slapped himself for ending that sentence prematurely… and with no obvious tracks for it to go down in the highway of his drink-addled mind.
Trying to speak from your heart is like engaging in an interview while under fire. Hearing the questions, formulating answers, wording them, all while remaining breathless and panicked. Scared for your life, even.
“No, no... sorry, buzz is gettin’ to me a bit. But you’re just– hell, maybe we don’t even have it in common, I don’t know, but you’re one hell of a person, is what I was getting at. In some fuck-all roundabout way." He rubbed the bridge of his would-be nose, grinding his teeth as his confession only seemed to worsen.
"Just... Six, you doing all that shit for the NCR, for Freeside, The Wrangler, and all those ungrateful, privileged asshats in the strip, and look at you, still out here working street corners for scraps. You should have a fucking penthouse by now, you know? Be one of them fancy ladies with the jewelry and the colorful skirts and dresses. ‘S what you deserve, Six, that’s all.”
“Glad you feel that way.” Finally relenting to the call of it, Six plopped down beside him, and Rotface felt his heart stutter as her hand brushed his bicep, giving him an affectionate little squeeze as she turned to him. “Nobody else seems to care, so you know… I suppose I’ll just keep... doing it, since I can’t sit by like the rest of those, ahem, asshats, as you put it so nicely.”
He broke into a laugh alongside her, feeding off the warmth of her smile and wishing like hell he could see it a thousand more times in his life.
“I couldn’t live with myself if I saw everything that’s going on around here and… didn’t help.”
Six handed him back the bottle, nearly empty as it was, but with one last, decent gulp left. With a slow hand, careful not to dislodge the one she still had placed upon his arm, he reached out for it.
“And… I guess I’ll just keep doing this,” Six gestured down to her scant outfit with unenthused fingers, “Until I can afford not to. However long that takes.”
A pessimistic scoff finished her sentence for her, and Rotface felt his hand gripping the neck of the alcohol bottle so hard it might shatter. And he wouldn’t blame it. If it were possible for him to do the same in this moment, he just might've.
Even as Rotface's grip loosened on the glass, his jaw stayed tightly clenched. He… had no idea she was that desperate. Some part of him assumed this was-- well, a job, yes-- but maybe she’d enjoyed it? Six always seemed so free, so good-humored, even in the worst of times, even when she showed up on their street corner with bags under her eyes, with bruises and scrapes he wouldn’t let himself imagine the origin of; she still was happy to see him, still made fun and light of their horrid, ruined world right alongside him… Maybe that’s what they really had in common.
Now that he knew though, now that her dejected voice, her listless mannerisms, the dullness in her eyes confirmed that she hated doing this shit more than he could’ve imagined, more than he hated baking in the sun waiting for a more successful, luckier man’s pocket change to fall into his roughened hands day-in and day-out for ten or so odd years, well... He couldn't just stand by anymore. Not like he has for so damn long. With all she's done in that time, even after being fucking shot? It made Rotface feel like a pretty awful person.
To think too, after all that, all his years of this shit, and how little he's collected in his time on the street corner...
Another shitty thing we have in common, I guess. If the world decides not to change, we’ll both be doing this forever.
“Well…” Rotface started a thought out loud, his fingers already twiddling nervously at his imagined proposal. “You know, I-I could start paying you.”
He felt her body tense, felt her eyes on him, but he couldn’t dare meet her gaze.
“J-just for this, you know.” He added quickly, “The pleasure of your company here on the corner. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t improve my evenings, having you here with me. But, since I’m taking up your time and all…”
“I could never accept money from you, R.”
He smiled at that, her tender voice, her sweet nickname for him.
“You want to know something?" She continued, her fingers twiddling distractedly over the skin of his arm. "I could stand on any street corner in Freeside. In fact, between you and me, this one really isn’t the best for business, but… Well, I enjoy the pleasure of your company too. And I couldn’t dream of asking you to pay for it.”
Another comforting squeeze radiated warmth from her grip over him, and Rotface finally gained the courage to set his eyes upon her face.
“No..." A soft, slight smile touched her vibrant lips as she looked right back at him, "We’re in this together, old friend.”
“If you say so." Rotface's own rough hand, pausing only briefly on its brave journey, now laid overtop hers, giving Six a comforting little embrace of his own. "But... If that’s the case, then… Say I did pay you for a night. A night we don't spend on this street corner, lovely as it is. A-and not anything, ah, promiscuous," He added quickly, "Just… you know. A night. Do dinner or something.”
“Dinner?” Her brow quirked up on her forehead and her eyes narrowed with mischief.
She must be onto me. No doubt she is…
But she keeps playing along. So, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?
“Well, we just shared a nice drink, some good conversation… You wanna just skip dinner?”
He was wide-eyed at what she suggested, what he thought she might be suggesting.
Could it be?
Nah... Too good to be true, that's what that is. Shit doesn't work out for me that way, not Rotface the poor street-corner ghoul. Not with Six. No way.
And yet, in that moment, her hand turned quickly, taking his in her grasp, and before he could fathom any single bit of it, she hauled him up and the pair set off quickly towards The Wrangler. He was comically giddy the whole way there, all teeth-baring grins and school-child giggles as she tugged him along behind her.
He didn't understand, but even more so, Rotface couldn't bare to question it.
Sure, the pair got some inquisitive looks on the way and in the bar, both of them well-known in this part of town, after all. The piss-poor ghoul beggar and the Wrangler prostitute who was a sucker for doing the right thing, the kind thing, getting a room together?
The looks all confirmed what he tried not to let himself believe.
Even if it is pity she has for me… who am I to complain? To judge her?
Nah, he couldn’t think one wrong thing about the gal beside him, in front of him now in the dim room, leaving even less to the imagination, as she let her skirt flit down to the carpeted motel room floor.
Six stepped out of the garment like she was trying to seduce him. As if she hadn’t already, from the moment he laid eyes on her.
“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen." His rough voice sounded in the dim of the room as his eyes stayed locked to her mesmerizing form, "All my years, dolly, and it’s not even a competition.”
Rotface couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, not for anything, as she approached where he sat on the creaky, ages-old box spring. The bed dipped from her movements as she crawled up and between his legs, running her hands down over the smooth fabric of his worn shirt until they reached the bottom hem.
His own hands, rough as they were, gently stopped her movement.
“Not sure you wanna do that, doll. Might just ruin the moment.”
Six shook her head, her brows drawn together in sympathy as one soft hand brushed over the side of his face. Her touch was so tender, her expression so kind, yet… so wanting. It made his heart throb and race all at once.
“It won’t.” Her voice was the firmest he’d heard it. “R… I want this bad as you do. Honest.”
He blinked, and in the smallest split of seconds, Six's lips were against his. Like an old reel of film, his mind raced and churned behind the scenes, the chaos behind the beautiful picture up on the screen.
She was loud as a symphony, vibrant as a painting, with her passions. A pessimistic part of him whispered that it was practice, it was work, but a louder part shouted, ‘this is happening!’
Because that’s what mattered.
Six was here, with him. She said she wanted this, she followed it up with actions that had him in a frenzy, that had him questioning his sanity, and the life expectancy of ghouls once they go feral.
His mind scrambled like this, the heat coursing through him, the kiss felt like it was sending him into a metamorphosis.
Rotface wanted so badly to think, to respond, to ask a million questions and make a million remarks about his many faults to her. As much as he wanted this– more than anything he could remember pleading for in his life, and just… well, look at him, he had plenty he could've wished for in place of this, and yet, it was true. More than anything, he wanted this with her. And he was as afraid of it as he was enthused by it.
None of that mattered though. Nothing did, but Six.
Rotface ran his hands over her bare skin, hungry to feel every inch of her, to soothe every hint of pain, every cause of stress in her life, his lips pressed against hers, caressing her softness, like the sun hugs the mountaintops and bathes them in orange, pink and violet.
It only became more explosive, as he felt himself sink back into the mattress, as she laid her body over his, and he finally allowed her fingers to haul his raggedy t-shirt off over his head. Rotface gazed up at her as they separated, so she could remove the shirt from him fully, feeling like he was trapped in one of his daydreams, only… this was so much sweeter.
Even in the depths of his imagination, the ghoul never could have seen her like this. Looking at him this way. It was… utterly unimaginable, the affection he saw there. The attraction.
Perhaps her eyesight is just poor, after the incident in the graveyard at point blank range.
The sound of a zipper drew his eyes and thoughts downwards as she began to remove his battered jeans, pulling them off over his hips and taking his boxers with them in one movement.
Rotface grunted as the hem of his pants caught on his erection, already straining up in the air from her words, the sight of her, her attentions.
Just… Six.
The liquor had worn off by now, and he could feel himself shaking slightly. Maybe from nerves, or anticipation, though… probably both. If Six noticed though, she didn’t say a word about it.
“Hmm.” When his eyes snapped back up to her, watching her take in the sight of his gnarled flesh, his bony body, he expected any number of horrid, barely-held back reactions.
But she just… Smiled. With tears in her eyes, her gaze met his.
“I don’t know why you ghouls are so cruel to yourselves. You in particular.” She said as she began to crawl up his body, a hand on either side of him, hovering, until she could lay over him. Her breasts prodded his chest as she settled overtop of him, her stomach cushioning his sensitive erection lovingly between their bodies. “You’re no different than any other man.”
“Gee, thanks.” He said with a breathless attempt at a laugh.
“No,” Six giggled, letting her head hang for a moment, her hair curtaining her face so charmingly as her eyes crinkled. “I just mean… You’ve got scars, sure, but… we all do.”
One hand grasped with his, and Six pressed his fingers to the concealed divots in her forehead. He swallowed hard, as he felt the depth of them.
How lucky I am to be here… With her.
“It doesn’t make you worth any less. No matter what anyone says.” Six pulled his hand to her mouth then, one finger drawing a line over a particularly rigid scar on his wrist before her lips followed suit softly.
“Doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”
Rotface had to blink to keep the unwelcome mist at bay from seeping into his eyes.
What did I do to deserve her? This?
Just last night we were still only friends, something like this was a distant, unachievable dream.
Now, he never wanted it to end.
“Well, doll, you are the authority on all that’s beautiful.”
“Sweet ghoul.” Six's fingers ran over his bald head in an affectionate caress, and then his lips were back on her. Rotface initiated this time, pushing into her and wrapping his arms tightly around her body until he could flip them on the bed, positioning himself on top.
His cock twitched as her hips bucked up into him, the swell of her pelvic bone grinding against the underside of his cockhead until he felt himself drooling pre-cum out onto her skin.
Damn, but she knows what she’s doing.
“Fuck, alright–” Rotface pulled back from her lips, separating their bodies enough to alleviate the pressure on his erection. “I’ve gotta taste you, doll. That alright?”
Enthusiastically, and with a bit of surprise written on her face, Six nodded, and he felt that giddiness encapsulate him again. The older ghoul felt like a boy on pre-war Christmas, pulling her legs undone like a bow until her thighs were draped over his rough shoulders. His sense of smell and taste both weren’t what they used to be, but even so, his mouth watered at the sight of her folds; dark and glistening, maybe just with his pre-cum where he'd rubbed on her briefly, but he’d like to think some of it was her own excitement as well.
As Rotface took his first languid lick, right through the middle of her lower lips and up to drag over her clit, it was confirmed. She wasn’t just glistening a bit, Six was wet.
For me? Damn, maybe she really is telling the truth about her feelings…
Grinning, and with a hint of an uncharacteristically smug expression upon his ruined face, Rotface set to work on her.
One hand laid over Six's lower stomach, and his thumb pressed to that sensitive button that made her shudder in slow, teasing circles as he delighted in the sweetness within her folds. He may have been shy about confessing his wants to her, his own feelings, but his tongue showed no such coyness as it explored her so thoroughly.
Once that first taste hit his welcoming tastebuds, Rotface began lapping at her feverishly, like a starving wasteland dog, until he could hear her breathy moans escaping audibly from above. Chancing a glance, the ghoul hauled his eyes open to take in her expression, and felt himself give an involuntary buck of his hips against the rough-hewn sheet upon the mattress below him at the sight that welcomed him.
I made her look like that.
He marveled silently, feasting with his eyes as much as he was with his wanton mouth as he poured his attentions out onto her. Six's brows were drawn together from his efforts, her lips half-parted, her lipstick smeared messily against one cheek, her hair like a woven crown, all in tangles around her head. No detail of hers failed to captivate him, even as Rotface continued his hungry mouthing, his thumb’s circling over her clit, growing firmer and faster, just as his hips moved more frantically over the mattress, grinding his cock into the sheets like he was already inside her.
Six’s eyelashes fluttered, as she took in his humble visage in turn, and his heart soared to see the way she smiled.
“Didn’t know you had this in you, R.” She spoke, breathless, her voice damn near rough as his own.
He only growled in response, tearing his eyes from her face to look down upon his labors. Her clit was standing tall against his movement over it, and her lips were becoming darker, more swollen, more slippery. His tongue glided easily around her folds, navigating them as masterfully as he did the streets of Freeside, and pressed periodically up to that sensitive button, giving it teasing licks and kisses that left her writhing beneath the pressure of his arms.
“Think I’m wet enough for you now, R.”
Rotface felt a pat upon his head as her voice reached down to where he was buried between her legs, but he didn’t budge. A groan acted as his rebuttal as his attentions hastened. His actions were better than explanatory words anyway.
“Fuck, okay.” Six giggled out, and her sheer arousal was plain in the way the words left her. A moan trailed shortly after, as Rotface set his rough lips against her clit, and sucked like honey would pour from the spot. And well, it really sort of would, wouldn’t it?
Though, there was one difference.
Six was much sweeter.
The ghoul’s eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on her thigh and stomach tightened, he felt his cock give a painful throb from where he was neglecting it, and his hips picked up their pace into the mattress.
In that moment, he was completely surrounded by her.
Her moans and breaths were all that entered his ears, her smooth skin all he felt, her musky, succulent juices all he could taste, the colors of her passion, all he could see behind his closed eyelids. In that moment, she was his whole world.
And what a glorious world it is.
Six was close now, so close he could feel the way her clit pulsed against his tongue. He smiled into her at the feeling, lowering one hand between her thighs as his lips stayed anchored to her sensitive, swollen nub. Rough, calloused fingers dragged through her plentiful wetness, before two of them tested her entrance, finding it pliant and wanting for him. For this.
The digits plunged inside without any additional warning, instantly curling against her hot, tender walls and making her release a shout of pleasure that had his throbbing member ready to burst at the seams.
A few well-placed rubs of his textured fingers against her clenching walls, and one last drag of his tongue over her swollen pleasure point, and Six was crying out her nickname for him into the still, stuffy air of the motel room. Rotface didn’t cease though, his fingers pulsed inside her gently, coaxing her orgasm to last as long as possible, helping her through it as he drank in her spilling essence with his whole mouth.
Rotface found himself growing almost as loud as she was, with his sloppy groans and the great buildup of pressure in his aching, straining cock, until that too burst out without much warning. The ghoul spurted his seed into the sheets below, humping into the mattress needily as he continued to nurse on her clit, even as Six began to buck away from him in her oversensitivity.
Finally, with a light push of her hand over his forehead, Rotface tore himself from her. His chin and hollow nose were dripping with her as he caught his breath, he could feel his thighs shaking from the force of his own release, which was still sending small aftershocks through his fatigued body as his cock leaked the last of what it had to offer onto the bed between Six’s legs. And Six... at that moment, she–
--
“R?” A loud snap sounded in his ears, and suddenly, tragically, Rotface was seated back on his curb, his mind swimming and his body aching as his thoughts raced circles around his mind. “Honey, are you okay? You were tryin’ to say something.”
“I– I was?”
“Yeah, you were gonna tell me what else we had in common? Besides fashion sense and this curb, and then you just… went all radio silence on me. You feelin’ alright?”
Six’s hand pressed down to his forehead, and her touch sent a shock through him.
Fuck… Another goddamn daydream. And… so real.
Stupid fucking drink.
He glared at the bottle in Six’s hand as she sat down next to him.
“You do feel a little warm. You wanna just take it easy tonight? I don’t have to take clients, maybe we could… I don’t know.” She laughed as she trailed off, and Rotface felt his heart renew its frantic pounding once again.
With one sentence, one confession, one request, I could maybe, maybe, make that dream of mine a reality.
Rotface took a breath as he felt her eyes on him, trying not to pay her gaze too much mind, as he began his confession.
