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“Does it bother you?” She asked him, breaking the near half-hour of silence there’d been since they came in the room and sat down- him in a chair by the door, her in the far bed against the wall.
He didn’t look up, just bounced his boot on his knee like he was listening to something on the radio. He fiddled with the cigarette in his hand, not even smoking it. The cherry looked like it was about to jump off.
“Hmm?” He asked, his thousand-yard stare at the wall across the room remaining unbroken.
“Does it bother you?” She repeated, watching him. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking, she never could.
“Does what bother me?” He asked, looking at his cigarette and finally noticing it was about to burn his fingers. He turned slightly in his chair and scraped it out on the ashtray he’d placed on the bookshelf behind him.
“What people say.” She said, simply. She might not be able to tell what he was feeling or thinking, but she couldtell that he knew what she was talking about. He was playing dumb, avoiding it.
He was already digging in his pocket for another cigarette, and once he got this one lit he took a drag.
“What do they say?” He asked her, blowing smoke through his teeth, still not looking at her. She was quickly losing the small bit of courage she’d managed to rally just to start this conversation.
“Don’t make me say it.” She said to him, gripping the blanket she was sitting on, pinching the fabric, trying to do anything to distract her anxious body. She wanted to rip the blanket up and scream into it. She wished she’d never said anything. She could feel what a mistake it was, but it was too late now. She wasn’t in control, she was just watching herself sit there, watching herself continue talking.
“Say what?” He asked, flitting his eyes to her suddenly, not turning his face.
She diverted her glance from him to the empty bed in front of her, studying the tiny tears and frays all over the blanket that covered it.
“Say what?” He repeated, louder this time. He dropped his boot off his knee, uncrossing and swinging his leg to the floor.
“Just… the things that people say. The messed up things.. Like-” she started.
“Ghoulfucker.” He said for her, matter-of-factly. She almost wished he would have spit it through his teeth the way he usually did when he was pissed off. The way he said it now was just so… devoid of anything. So apathetic. So bored. ”That’s what you’re asking me, right? You want to know if people saying ‘Ghoulfucker’ bothers me?”
“Yeah, I mean, I just-”
“It doesn’t.” He said, taking another drag. “Why would it? They’re not saying it to me.”
She didn’t react or say anything back, but she felt like she’d been slapped. She wished she could articulate her thoughts right now. Every time she tried to talk, a random jumble came out or he interrupted her.
“Does it bother you?” He continued, cocking his head slightly. She could hear the obvious sarcasm in his voice, mixing with what sounded like the beginning of what might be true anger. He sounded like he was purposely hoping his words would hurt her.
She felt her eyes filling up with tears, fast. She glanced up, trying to blink them away, but they were falling on her cheeks and dripping off her face. As she looked at him, he looked away again. Back at the wall like it was interesting instead of dingy and plain.
“Seems like it does.” He said, not giving her a chance to answer. He’d said it in a quieter tone, as if speaking to himself instead of her now.
She felt her face scrunch up as she clenched her teeth, her jaw tightening so quickly that it hurt. She was glaring at him now through her tears, but he was staring at that wall like she didn’t exist. He made her so fucking mad sometimes. He took things so personally, even though he acted like emotions were beneath him. He pretended to be this stoic, apathetic husk of a person, but she knew that he could be so, so angry, and so, so hurt by things.
“Why do you hate me so fucking much?!” She found herself yelling, not looking away from him now, not even daring to blink because she couldn’t bear to have any more tears running down her face. “What did I ever do to you?”
He glanced over at her now, meeting her stare. She could tell from the way his eyes flared that her sudden outburst shocked him.
She didn’t know what to expect. She was fairly sure he couldn’t hurt her, that the contract would stop him. But would it, for sure? Could he power through whatever pain it caused him just long enough to grab her by the throat? Or to put a round through her face? Or two, like he did to his last employer, not so long ago?
He watched her as she sat there, the tears she refused to blink out spilling down her cheeks on their own. She wished he would just get up and leave, storm out. If he hadn’t been blocking the door she would have liked to do so herself.
He blinked finally- as if released from some trance- and looked at the second cigarette he’d wasted as it had burnt to nothing between his fingers. He stood up from the chair and turned to the bookshelf, leaning down to stamp out the remnants of it.
She just watched him, her anger starting to drain from her now that she’d shouted. She didn’t like how it felt as it left her, though. Nothing replaced it, she just felt empty.
He straightened up from stamping out his cigarette and looked back at the chair. He moved it aside and she was sure he was going to open the door, but he surprised her by turning his back to it and leaning against it. He crossed his arms casually and stared.
She raised her eyebrows at him, as if to remind him that she had asked him something and he hadn’t answered.
“What?” He asked, finally, breaking the silence. He shrugged his shoulders up as he spoke. “What do you want me to say?”
That you don’t hate me, maybe? She thought to herself. She didn’t say anything. She felt like puking.
“I do hate when people say ‘Ghoulfucker’, okay?” He told her, uncrossing his arms and moving around the bed in front of her to come sit down, facing her. He leaned forward on the edge of it, elbows resting on his knees, his hands hanging down clasped together. He was looking at the floor between them as he continued. “Of course I hate it, why wouldn’t I? It reminds me of how much of a fucking monster I am, how fucking awful, how grotesque I am next to you, so much so that it’s an insult just to insinuate you’d go for someone like me.”
There it was finally, he was spitting through his teeth on his last words.
“But it’s more than that,” he continued, a little quieter now. “It hurts when they say it and I can see how much it fucking bothers you. You can’t just ignore it, it ruins your fucking day when you hear it. I know I’m just a hired gun to you, but if it bothers you so-”
She gasped at his accusation, her hands letting go of the blanket just to ball into fists that she pounded onto her thighs with each word she spoke.
“You’re not just a hired gun to me!” She spit back at him, seething. She could feel her face flare up like it was on fire, and she hoped she looked half as crazed with anger as she felt when he said that. “It ‘bothers’ me because I don’t like people insinuating there’s anything wrong with you! You’re so fucking stupid! I love you, you fucking asshole!”
Charon’s head snapped up and he stared at her with his mouth open, total shock that matched hers. Up until she’d already said it, she’d had no idea that sentiment was floating around in her head. She was shaking with the anger that had pent itself up in her until it exploded, and the anxiousness and confusion she felt now that what she’d said had been said and it couldn’t be taken back.
Charon was just blinking, staring at her with his mouth still open. He shook his head from side to side as if refusing to believe what he’d heard.
“Sorry,” She breathed, unclenching her fists and bringing them up to her face, covering her eyes as hot tears started pouring down again, stinging her cheeks. “I just-”
She couldn’t finish the sentence because she was choking down a sob, refusing to let it escape her throat. She heard Charon stand up in front of her and she peaked one eye just enough to see that he was pacing with one hand on his hip and the other up to his forehead like he had the worst headache someone could possibly get. She couldn’t choke the sob down anymore and it came out. Her shoulders shook with it as she felt herself starting to hyperventilate.
Two hands gripped her shoulders hard, and she felt herself being yanked up from the bed. She had just enough time to think “here it comes”, before colliding against Charon’s chest and feeling his arms wrap around her, pressing her into him.
She sobbed into his chest, her body shaking with pent up anxiety, anger, grief, confusion. She was suddenly self-conscious of the realization she was soaking tears- and probably snot- into the front of his shirt. She pulled away just enough to wipe her face with her arm, and she turned her head and pressed it back against his chest. She wanted to stay like this forever. Not just because she was enjoying the feeling- which she suddenly realized she was- but because if this stopped, what happened next? What would be said? What would he do? What was she supposed to say or do?
She could feel him breathing on the top of her head, and felt his arms moving on her back. He was rubbing his hands across her shoulders, her upper arms.
“Charon.” She heard herself say, and felt him tighten his arms around her. Overcome with more emotion, she turned her face back into his chest and continued sobbing. She could feel one of his hands move up her back to the back of her neck, then up through her hair, his fingers rubbing softly against her scalp. She got goosebumps at the touch- the unfamiliar feeling- and sobbed his name again.
She felt faint- she realized all too late- and felt her legs buckling underneath her, threatening failure. The hand in her hair quickly shot down to the back of her thighs and she felt herself being lifted off the ground.
Pulled up against the chest of her exceptionally large companion, she felt like a hurt child being consoled by a parent.
Charon stood there with her for several minutes, no sounds from either of them except the occasional involuntary gasp as she caught up to her breath, recovering from hyperventilating. She could feel her heart pounding so hard that she could hear it in her ears as well, and wondered if he could feel it too. He didn’t rock or sway on his feet, didn’t move at all, just held her up against him.
She had touched- and had been touched- by Charon a few times before. There were times one of them handed the other something and their fingers brushed against each other. Times that he helped her up, or yanked her out of the way of danger. Times that she dug shrapnel from his skin, or cleaned and bandaged a gash from a bullet that grazed him, or a raider’s knife that’d slashed him. But they’d never hugged, never leaned against each other, never so much as shook hands that she could remember.
But now she was in his arms, pressed against his chest, and he was breathing softly into her hair.
She felt his arms moving around her suddenly and she thought he was getting ready to set her down, but he was just adjusting his grip as he took a few steps backwards and sat down on the edge of his bed with her.
Now comfortably seated on his lap, she untucked her legs and let them hang over his, the backs of her thighs pressed against the tops of his, her feet dangling. She was suddenly all too conscious of how little she was wearing. His pants were rough against the skin on her thighs, and his hands were rough on her arms, her back.
She lifted one hand to her face to wipe away her tears, and felt one of his hands sliding along that arm, along her hand, and replacing it on her cheek. He was holding her face, his large hand gentle on her skin, his long fingers relaxed against her ear. Despite the softness of his touch, a thought flashed through her mind that he could probably crush her skull with one hand if he wanted to.
She felt her head raising; he was using his thumb on her chin to push it up towards himself. She met his gaze, his hazy blue eyes trained on hers, leaving only to flit quickly down to her mouth and back up again.
His lips parted and she waited for him to say something. To end this tantalizing moment, to snap them both back to reality. Instead he leaned closer to her, closing his eyes and pressing his own lips onto hers.
He kissed her once and sighed, leaning his forehead down to the point that it pressed against her own. She could feel how rough his skin was, it scratched her own soft face. Not enough to hurt- just enough to feel it- just enough to remind her of the stark difference between the two of them.
Her hands went to his chest and slid over his shirt, up his neck, until they were cupping his face. Holding it as if she thought he was going to pull away. She wanted to keep him there.
He kissed her again, this time pressing his mouth harder against hers, kissing her longer, more passionately. Her fingers felt the skin moving across his jaw, and her thumbs slid along his cheeks. One of them flicked over his lips, feeling them as he took a breath.
“Is this okay?” He asked her, once again leaning his forehead onto hers. She opened her eyes and saw that his eyes were cast down, that they were unfocused. He was breathing heavy, heavier than she’d ever seen him breathing even when they’d been running or fighting.
“Is this okay?” He repeated, looking up and tilting his head back away from her. Giving enough space between them that he could get a good look at her face, gauge her expression. He sounded almost worried, like he thought it was possible she might tell him “No, it’s absolutely not”.
“Yes.” She breathed, trying to force the corners of her mouth into a smile to show him she was okay, but finding herself unable to concentrate enough to do it. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, and- by the color miraculously returned to his cheeks and the lack of focus in his eyes- his was probably beating out of his own as well.
He leaned towards her again, kissing her and scooping her up into his arms, lifting her off of his lap. She’d just had enough time to slip her arms up around his neck before feeling herself being laid back onto the bed.
“Good.” he breathed right into her ear before planting kiss after kiss there, trailing them down her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Charon, please don’t stop.” She breathed, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him down closer towards her.
He obliged, letting his body slide down onto hers and pressing her into the mattress enough to make her feel the air escaping her.
He adjusted his position, lifting himself up just enough so that they stayed pressed together but she could breathe.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He told her, his lips tickling her neck as he spoke, her skin getting goosebumps as she felt one of his hands graze her side, sliding itself up under her shirt, tracing his fingers along her skin.
The thought of Charon wanting her made her ache. She’d never been able to read him one way or the other. At times she was nearly sure she could see jealousy or lust, but it had always quickly changed to something that seemed more like anger or loathing.
“Oh, Charon.” She spoke, feeling his fingertips slide over her stomach, up her body, and circle one of her breasts.
“I had no idea you felt anything for me,” he confided, sounding almost distant, pained. He retraced the path of his kisses from her shoulder to her neck, to her jaw, to her ear. “I didn’t think I was anything to you.” He continued, quieter this time.
She let one of her hands slip down from his scalp to find his hand in her shirt and take hold of it. His hand was heavy compared to hers even though he was cooperating, letting her move it. He opened it for her and she slid it back up to her breast, guiding it there and giving it a squeeze, miming for him what she wanted. He obliged, moving his lips back to hers and kissing her harder, sucking on her bottom lip as his thumb flicked back and forth over her nipple, breaking away only to circle around it. She gasped into his mouth, unable to move with her lip between his.
She opened her eyes and saw that his were opened just enough to meet her gaze. As his thumb flicked over her nipple once again though, she felt her eyes roll back in her head and she closed them once more, trying to catch her breath. His lips released hers as he opened his mouth to laugh softly at her inability to mask her pleasure.
She moved her hands to his sides and gripped there, pulling his body down onto hers harder, letting him know he could get closer, put more of his weight on her. He did exactly that, and- to her delight- rubbed against her slowly, his body grinding against hers. She felt his lower body lift suddenly, thinking he was pulling away, only to feel one of his legs fumbling to find its way between hers before pushing them apart. He settled his body in this newly made opening for himself, continuing to grind against her.
“Charon, please.” She begged softly, hearing a whining in her voice that she didn’t recognize.
His body stiffened and he stopped grinding, halting where he was at the second she’d said the first syllable of his name. She could feel his hot breath on her collarbone, his lips parted just a hair away from her skin.
“I want you.” She insisted, desperately. He laughed into her neck- his voice returning to its normal volume- making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck and her arms and legs break out into goosebumps.
He planted one last kiss where his lips had been, and she felt both of his hands slide up under her shirt, sliding higher and higher along her body until she felt her shirt being pulled up over her head. She let it happen, raising her arms over her head and arching her back so the fabric could slide right off of her. Charon rewarded her with his mouth on her skin, kissing and sucking at her bare breast one hand still gripping her shirt- which had tangled in her hands and trapped them there above her head- the other sliding under her arched back, gripping around her waist and pulling their bodies tighter together.
She bit her lip and embraced the feeling of his lips around her nipple. There’d been nights where she’d thought about him in ways like this, but the images she conjured up in her mind were never anywhere near this vivid; she had no experience, nothing to go on. There’d been health and wellness classes in the vault that touched on reproduction and anatomy, but nothing that warned her how good it felt to have a big man like this on top of her, pinning her down, pressing into her, kissing and sucking and biting her.
She hadn’t even known how to touch herself. There was never time to learn. In the vault, she’d felt like she was being watched 24/7, and that’s probably because she was. Out in the Wastes there was hardly time to sleep, and those very rare occasions were full of night terrors and jumping up at every little noise. And after she’d bought Charon’s contract she’d had him within feet of her practically every minute of every day.
She’d tried a few times though, enjoying the thought of him laying close by to her. Listening to him breathing, moving around. Even better when he was awake, sitting up in a chair in the dark, smoking cigarettes. It was like some form of voyeurism- she loved wondering if he heard her, or if he had no clue at all. Sometimes she’d pretend he was watching her, touching his own body. She’d loved imaging him asking her if she needed help, if she wanted him to show her how…
Yet, here she was, and her body was telling her exactly how to use it, exactly how to rub against him to feel good. His mouth pulled at one of her nipples, then he kissed it gently and moved to the other, doing the same. He looked up at her, gauging her reaction. She smiled at him, her face feeling warm in the way it does when she has some wine. Flushed, she’d heard someone describe the feeling as, and she agreed.
Charon sat up suddenly on his knees, his legs forcing hers open even further, to the point that it pained her slightly. He ripped his own shirt over his head quickly, but his arms fell slowly back down to his sides as he seemed to realize suddenly what his skin looked like underneath. He stared at her face- watching her eyes- waiting for her to cringe or to try to hide her disgust.
She ran her hands along his stomach instead, unable to reach up any further from her position. He watched her do it, the relief obvious on his face.
One of her hands bumped his belt buckle and she brushed her fingertips over it, tugging it gently, considering it.
Charon closed his hands around hers, pulling them off of him and kissing them. He let go of them then, putting his hands on both sides of her body and pushing himself further down the bed away from her. She wanted to protest, but then he was kissing down the center off her chest, between her breasts, onto her stomach, her belly button, then below it. He moved his lips over a soft spot somewhere just above the top of her hip, and his hands gripped her waistband. She could feel his fingers curling underneath it, claiming their spot inside of the shorts she usually wore beneath her vault suit.
“Can I?” He asked, his lips brushing against her lower abdomen, sending butterflies fluttering in a million directions.
She’d always thought that the most attractive thing a man could be was a mixture of rough and dominating. Taking what he wanted, forcing others to comply. Of course these were just her fantasies, because in reality there were men doing that very thing every single day all over the Wastes, and those were atrocities that she tried her best to stop whenever she could.
But here, now- in bed getting gently kissed- she realized how unabashedly sexual it was to have a rough, powerful man be gentle. Every time Charon asked her a question, asked for her permission… she could feel the exact place on her body she had struggled to conquer before.
He could take her any way he wanted to if he felt like it and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He could eat her alive if he felt like it, it’d probably take a dozen men at least to pull him off of her if they managed to break down the door in time. But he wasn’t even being rough. Nothing he was doing was hurting her, and most of it was for herpleasure.
“Can I?” He growled softly into her stomach, repeating himself. She slid her hands up both of his shoulders- feeling the muscles flex underneath his skin- her fingertips flitting over gnarls of scarred wounds.
“Yes, please.” She answered, digging her fingers into his skin slightly out of nervousness as he pulled her shorts down. To her surprise, he had his fingers hooked through her underwear as well, as they came down with the shorts. He pulled away from her grasp just long enough to finish pulling them along her legs, throwing them over onto the empty bed once they were off.
He looked down at her and she felt her cheeks flush, watching his eyes moving up and down over her bare skin. Without him touching her she realized how chilly it was in the room, and felt her nipples harden and goosebumps break out over her skin.
He bent down over her, giving her a long and sweet kiss on the lips, then trailing kisses down her body once more. This time he didn’t stop at the space just below her belly button, but he did give a few extra kisses there, lingering for a few seconds as if letting her prepare herself. As he did so, one hand held his weight up on the bed so he didn’t crush her and the other trailed down after his mouth, fingertips sliding over every place his lips had touched. While he was kissing below her belly button, that hand moved down to her thigh, where he gripped her hard for the first time and squeezed.
She let out a yelp, and as she did she felt the blessed relief of that hand lessening its grip and his mouth coming down on the most sensitive area she had.
—-
He felt her buck her hips slightly in response to his mouth, and it only encouraged him. He licked his lips- keeping his mouth pressed against her- and his tongue darted out onto her skin. She was running her fingers through his hair gently with one hand, the other arm stretched low so her hand could grip his shoulder. Her fingernails were digging into his skin, and he loved it. He made a mental note to slow things down a bit- be a little more gentle- because he could sense she was spiraling out of control quickly. He didn’t know for sure how much experience she had with things like this, but he would bet almost anything it was zero, or close to it. He’d overheard conversations where she’d mentioned never having a boyfriend, never even having been kissed.
He’d heard her up late some nights, trying to do with her fingers what he was doing to her with his tongue. He couldn’t know for sure of course- only guess- but he’d known by her breathing that she hadn’t been sleeping. She was a nervous girl, so maybe they were just mini panic attacks concerning any of the million things that she had been worried about at the time, but he was nearly certain they were attempts at self-pleasure. Attempts, he thought, because it never seemed to last very long and never seemed to make any noise, not even a single escaped moan. The nights he’d heard her he had spent staring off into space or laid awake pretending to be asleep, his pants growing uncomfortably tight as he throbbed and waited her out, waiting for her to fall asleep. Those nights had been long, but what a relief it’d been when he’d been sure she was asleep and he could finally take care of himself.
Just thinking about it now, he wanted to ask her. He almost couldn’t help himself, finding himself taking his mouth off of her before he realized he was doing it.
“Did you ever think of me like this?” Charon asked her, looking up at her from between her legs, his arms wrapped around her thighs, squeezing them tightly against his shoulders.
She was catching her breath, and he was glad he’d stopped. He hadn’t been paying attention; he’d nearly brought her past the point he wanted her to be.
At his question, he watched her already flushed face turn a beet red. It was so easy to embarrass her, he loved doing it.
“Yes.” She said finally, turning her gaze up to the ceiling.
He rewarded her honesty and she gasped, her stomach pulling inwards and her hands flying back down to his head, gripping his hair almost painfully.
“How did you do it?” He asked her, breathing on her skin, watching one of her hands dutifully slide down to the place between her legs he’d been concentrating on.
Her fingers moved together- sliding along herself- up and down, back and forth. She seemed to find a rhythm and began doing little circles that got tighter and tighter. He saw that her jaw was clenched and her thighs were tightening with the effort.
He kissed her hand before pulling it away, giving it an apologetic squeeze as he pushed it from between her legs and kissed her there. She sighed and her thighs relaxed, but her hips bucked again when she felt his mouth.
“Why didn’t you ask for my help?” He asked, barely moving his lips off of her as his mouth formed the words. Unaware that he was asking her about something she’d fantasized doing many times before. “I would have helped you.”
She didn’t have an answer for this, at least not a verbal one. She squirmed under him, moving away from his mouth as she shuddered involuntarily.
He pulled himself up along her, kissing her body as he went. He had a sudden urge to bite her and he did- gently- on one of her breasts. She let out a squeak that only served to encourage him to bite the other as well. He felt her hands fly up and cup his face. He could sense her worry, so he didn’t continue, despite the desire to do it over and over and over again.
He kissed her lips instead, wondering briefly if she noticed the taste of herself on him. This was getting to be too much for him to bear.
“Are you nervous?” He asked her, pushing up off of her and onto his knees once again. He took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed it gently.
“Yes,” she said truthfully, then- realizing she didn’t want him to take that as her wanting him to stop- “but please keep going.”
He smiled at that, and moved her hand so it was on his belt buckle. Her eyes widened and she brought her other hand up to help, pausing on the leather that folded itself into the buckle, then setting to work undoing it. She freed his belt, and fumbled with a button on his pants.
He watched her do this, trying to stay calm and be patient, but the way her small breasts pushed together when she stretched both her arms forward to try to unbuckle his belt drove him crazy.
He helped her with the buttons, moving quickly and pulling the top of his pants down. Always shy, even now, she was politely looking away as he disrobed. He knew she was going to try to keep her eyes politely averted until he lowered himself back down onto her, so he didn’t. He stayed in that position- on his knees looming over her- and took one of her hands and wrapped it around himself.
She gasped, and her eyes darted down to her hand and the part of him it held. Charon couldn’t say he didn’t imagine this exact scenario before, and he was happy to notice he’d been right- it was ridiculously large in her small hands.
He watched her face for any reaction that might indicate she was disgusted -or worse, scared- but he didn’t see anything like that. He didn’t think she was disgusted by him, despite the fact that he looked quite different than her and was centuries older. And despite the fact that every other smoothskin would likely rather get beat to death before touching him like this, or even just shaking his hand. He’d heard her tell Lucy West once, when she was drunk, that she thought he was handsome. Lucy had laughed and asked if it was a fetish or something. Charon had cringed at that remark, but her defiant “No, he’s just handsome, he’s a good-looking guy” had redeemed the interaction and put a smile on his face that had been nearly impossible to hide.
Watching her face now though, it was still a great relief to know that she still felt the same way with his clothes off.
She had begun moving her hand along him, and it felt good. He wrapped his hand around hers and showed her how he liked it; squeezing tighter and pumping faster. She mimicked it dutifully, her lips curled in what was likely a smile she didn’t even realize she was wearing.
He was suddenly all too aware that he was on his knees over her -naked- her hand working hard to make him feel good, her eyes looking up at him, her face, her mouth just below him... He was throbbing, and he didn’t want it to be over just yet.
He backed away from her- pulling out of her grip- and laid down beside her. She turned on her side to look at him, reaching out and touching his abs, sliding it back down immediately to where it had just departed.
He leaned close and kissed her, one of his hands going up to cup her face, holding it up for her. She nuzzled into it immediately, kissing his palm. He ran his thumb over her lips, letting it gently slide into her mouth, onto her tongue. He felt her lips close softly over it and suck gently. The feeling made him clench the muscles in his thighs, pushing further into her hand. He relished that feeling, canting his hips and sliding it back and forth in her hand a few more times.
“I can’t wait anymore.” He told her suddenly, starting to feel desperate. He took her hand off, giving another apologetic squeeze, and just waited there a moment- holding it- concentrating all his will on not climaxing.
After a few seconds he felt like he could move again without risking it. He kissed her again, sucking her bottom lip between his, feeling her tongue come sliding in politely, and sucking on that too. He seemed to startle her- acting too rough like that- so he took a few breathes against her collarbone, collecting his thoughts.
With nothing to do while she waited, she moved against him, pushing her hips so that the throbbing part of his body was smothered between their stomachs; his hard, hers soft.
He reached one of his hands down between her legs, surprising her. He felt how wet she was on his fingers as he slid them across her, and then curled them into her.
Satisfied that she was ready- and unable to wait any longer- Charon positioned himself between her thighs once again. He supported himself up on one elbow, while his other hand wrapped around himself, guiding it, teasing her.
He didn’t want to ruin it by thinking of the right thing to say, the right question to ask. She felt what he was doing, had to understand what came next, and he could see her consent on every inch of her face. He pushed gently forward, feeling the initial resistance slowly giving way, her body accepting his.
He was about halfway in when he took his hand off to try to use it to hold his balance over her.
“Are you okay?” He asked her, watching her face losing the bright color she’d just had, quickly.
“Yes,” she breathed, in a voice that told him she was ready to pass out, “just… hurts a little.”
He pulled away from her slightly and watched her breathe a sigh of relief that quickly turned into her rolling her eyes back and closing them when he pressed forward again.
Her hands flew up to his biceps and she squeezed. He took this as a sign to continue, and he was right. With every pull away from her, the next push went deeper in. Trying to consider it without stroking his ego too hard, he couldn’t help but worry that he might be too big for her.
His worry was met with the realization she was pushing towards him now, trying to help. He got closer to her, sliding his hands under her back and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her close, pulling her in. He slid in and out slowly still, but he was picking up speed, and not holding back as much when it came to the pressure he was using to push into her.
His mouth was on her neck and he was kissing her, sometimes forgetting to move his mouth and instead just pressing it against her. He was concentrating on his breathing, concentrating on the cute little noises she was making. Concentrating and trying to burn the memory into his brain permanently so that he’d always remember this feeling of her tightening around him while she breathed his name.
Feeling her tightening like that around him, her hips pushing up against him as he pushed his down onto her, Charon couldn’t take any more.
“I’m going to come.” He told her urgently, practically gasping it into her ear as he did just that. His thigh muscles tightened and his groin clenched up in what felt like a painful knot before releasing mercifully as he continued pumping inside her.
She had one of her own hands up to her face, biting her fist, obviously trying to refrain from screaming. He kissed her face- continuing to thrust his hips until he felt like everything had been drained out of him including his very soul- and he collapsed on her, making sure the bulk of his torso was positioned off of her so he didn’t squish her.
She was breathing hard against him, and he could still feel her clenching and unclenching around him. Her thighs had spasmed while he came, and he watched her whole body shiver now, under him. Her one hand came away from her mouth and her other hand’s grip on his arm loosened.
She lay there for a moment- limp, and breathing hard- before he spoke her name.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him.