{Inspired by a fic by heyiya-if on tumblr. I can honestly say I feel this is the only way Elizabeth could have had her 'first sexual experience' in the cannon events. I wrote this for a meme prompt on my Elizabeth Bioshock role-play tumblr.
Please keep in mind that this is an M rated fic. It includes mature sexual content, some language, and depending on which way you canonize the game, incest.}
She could barely remember what was happening. She couldn't even remember how long she had been here. Was it days? Weeks? Months? She couldn't comprehend time anymore. Being hooked to a machine with a needle shoved into your spine filling you with an unknown drug made time a little fuzzy for the young woman.
The moment she had been taken in by Comstock and his goons and ripped away from Booker Dewitt - Elizabeth was hopeless. Each and every joy, hope, and drop of life that was within her had slowly been drained bit by bit. It would be one thing if this process was quick - however, Comstock didn't like quick. At first she prayed. She prayed more than she had in her entire life that Booker Dewitt would rescue her. Hour after hour for days on end of agonizing torture to try and break her had slowly eroded her will to say 'no'. She had come close to saying no more times than she could count.
In the end, her mind had halted her breaking with just a simple feeling that tugged at her chest - hope. Booker Dewitt was her first and last hope to get her out of this mess. Part of her knew if she held on—- just a little longer, he would come for her. She knew he would. His words rang through her mind keeping it on the thin line of sanity that could break at any moment.
"He will come for me."
She'd always say, which elicited laughed from her torturers, and another zip of electricity through her body. The drug burned, the needle tore at her muscles, and the much too tight restraints bruised her flesh.
It could have been years for all the woman knew - but she finally heard it. Loud and clear. It had been one at first, but, more were soon to follow. She had never been more happy in her entire life to hear the ringing noise of gunshots buzzing through the building. Yells and more fire soon followed. Shouts turned to screams that turned to silence.
The longest moments of her life were sitting in pure silence as she waited to see who had come out the victor.
She no longer needed an answer when she felt calloused hands and her nose filled with the scent of blood, gunpowder, and cigarettes. Her hope was once more restored.
"I've got you now. Just hold on…"
His words blurred together as did her consciousness. Each and every muscle in her body ached. She didn't even have the strength to sit upward on her own anymore.
The feeling of the long and cold piece of metal sliding out of her body made her entire body feel like it was on fire. If she had more strength, she probably would have screamed. Or did she? She couldn't remember anymore. Her small frame shook as she hunched over, trying her best to remember to breathe.
She felt betrayed. Her own father did this to her. Anger filled her chest like burning coals as she sat, silent, with her savior. Her body was filled with rage, pain, and a very insatiable desire for revenge. She could quote any of the scriptures saying that revenge was not right - but Elizabeth didn't care right now.
She snapped back into reality when she heard a deep voice calling her name. Twisting her figure around to eye Booker, she sat, perplexed. He was asking her if she was alright.
"No."
Elizabeth glanced at the very worn and alarmed male before her. Was he worried at her answer? How kind of him. She inwardly smiled. Glancing slowly at the camera that had sat above the room - no doubt Comstock's eyes to view his daughters torture first hand. Her stomach clenched as she remembered the repeating to give in and become 'the lamb you were born to be' to 'judge the wicked ways of man'.
She wasn't going to be the little lamb anymore.
"Not yet."
It was quick at first - she wasn't thinking clearly. Her mind was a blur and the rage in the pit of her stomach needed to be coaxed by something. And she knew nothing more in this world would destroy Comstock than to see his Little Lamb with her lips pressed firmly against the False Shepherd's.
She was somewhat surprised to realize Booker's reaction to this action. It was impulse and innocent in nature - she was simply looking for some sort of outlet for her feelings.
However - she wasn't taking into consideration she'd be met back with much more enthusiasm than she had counted on. As if she had turned on a switch inside of the man, his lips reacted to hers, pressing back much firmer and rougher than she had anticipated. Judging by his now strong grip on her forearms, she realized he must still be on an adrenaline high from just moments before.
She tasted cigarettes and salt, the taste in itself making her somewhat amused. She'd never thought about what Booker would taste like - but, how could she have expected any less of him?
Lips became tongues which soon led to gentle nips and bites, eliciting light noises from the young woman. Half of this was from sheer enjoyment and half was from the various aches she was soon realizing and very soon forgetting in her body. Her fingers reached up to tangle themselves in his matted locks, the thought crossing her mind that both of them were in very well need of a good bathing.
Before she knew it, the fingers that were lacing her bodice just moments before were frantically trying to unlace the same strings. When the fabric that covered her chest was gone, she shivered, skin prickling at the sensation of cold air hitting it. Her stomach turned with both an anxiety and excitement. This was her first encounter with a man and the idea that it was likely being watched to the displeasure of the man who wanted to make her his minion was exhilarating.
Elizabeth knew deep down that Booker would not be taking this any further if he could control himself. Elizabeth also knew deep down that at this point — for both of them — he was likely a very deprived man. His hands and lips seemed starved for the touch of a woman and Elizabeth's very inexperienced touches were starved for something to hold onto right now.
Her fury drove her further and his lust drove him just as far as her.
He wasn't the only sinner anymore.
His hands fumbled with trying to find her center beneath the multiple layers of skirts she wore. The more his calloused fingers traced the soft skin of her thighs made her shiver, her back arching to press closer to his frame. She hadn't realized how much larger he was than her to such a great extent until now. His body seemed to cover hers completely while hers cowered in his shadow.
When he removed her undergarments, she sensed the apprehension in him to touch her. His hands were filthy — matted with blood and too many other substances to name. Urging him onward, she bucked her hips towards his fingers, a moan erupting from her lips as she felt the warm hand gently touch her.
His thumb nudged lightly at her outer lips, dabbing at the moisture that he knew was very much his own doing. Her own hands found themselves fumbling with his belt, trying to unhook the stubborn thing as quickly as possible. Her fingers nimbly worked at the button followed by the zipper - knowing very well what to expect next.
She had read many things in her tower. Studied anatomy. Raunchy French romance novels. Although it perked her interest, she'd always assumed her first time would be after marriage. Rose petals and a nice church going man. Never had she thought it would be a quick fuck out of anger and lust on camera being seen by the man she considered a father.
Booker was the last man she'd imagine laying with - he was a man drowning in sin. But right now, the way he moved his fingers and his lips found their way to her chest made her melt. If Booker Dewitt was drowning in sin, she was most certainly drowning with him.
He hadn't given her an option to stop at this point - but she credited that to his knowledge. Both of them knew that this was happening one way or another. It was much too late to turn back. Especially know that her soft hands had finally made their way to his member, fingertips curiously dancing against it.
Booker was the first to move after several minutes of softly moaning into one another as they touched and explored each others bodies. Elizabeth was more than willing to comply in spreading her legs further to allow the man to position himself in between them.
In a haze, she simply clung to his shoulders, lips finding their way to his - enjoying the somewhat rough treatment he had given hers. Without fair warning, she felt his hips lunge forward, thrusting himself inside of her. Letting out a light yelp - she found solace entangled in his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder as the other tightly held onto dark locks. The sensation of something much larger than a finger inside of her was alien to her. A pain shot through her pelvis that was followed by a sudden primal urge within her to slam her hips back against him. If she wasn't so drunk on passion, she'd probably laugh at herself for enjoying the painful ache it caused her.
Whether it be seconds or hours, she didn't know. Her body was far from feeling pain any longer. The feeling of Booker inside of her made her cry out, covering the soft and steady grunts that the man above her was making. Her back arched further upwards and her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper inside of her. She was wrapped in lust just as he was, very well knowing that this was nothing more than an outlet for both of them.
Perhaps they would regret this afterwards. Perhaps they'd be too laced with guilt to look at each other ever again. But to Elizabeth — being able to stare triumphantly at the lens above the two of them that recorded every second of their sinful touch was worthwhile. In the only way she knew how, she told Comstock she was no longer his little lamb that she had been.
She was allowing her false shepherd to lead her astray - and she'll be damned if it wasn't the best feeling she'd ever experienced in her life.