The ruins of the Pentagon, otherwise the main base of the Brotherhood of Steel, is perhaps the most secure location in the Capital Wasteland. It is surrounded by tall walls of metal all around that are less than pristine, but nevertheless resilient, with armored soldiers protecting them from elevated positions. These men and women wear protective gear reminiscent of knight's armor during medieval periods in that it encases them entirely in steel shells. Its styling is much different but the most important principles are shared.
Power armor, as it is called, is a bulky metal suit with a foggy gray finish that helps it avoid reflecting light. Plated pieces protect the extremities, such as the entire torso, the legs, thighs, arms, forearms, pelvis, and even the shoulders. The joints, as in medieval times, are the weakness of the suits but not as much of one now as back then. Those areas are protected by flexible metallic mesh capable of deflecting most projectiles or entangling the ones powerful enough to penetrate.
In earlier times wearing such thoroughly protective armor was impossible due to the weight but it was only ever created once that obstacle was overcome beforehand. Aside from protecting the wearer, power armor also moves itself, removing all complications arising from sheer weight. Electronic motors and hydraulics answer to a neural interface wired into the suit, allowing the soldier to move it more through conscience than physical exertion. It even gifts them with mechanical strength beyond that of any normal human being.
With power armor on, a woman is a strong as a man wearing the same outfit, and these are the individuals who protect the Citadel, built atop the ruins of the Pentagon. Regardless of that and those stubborn walls refusing to let anything in that the Brotherhood doesn't invite, looking at it from outside this whole place nevertheless fails to distinguish itself from the decrepit surroundings of its post-apocalyptic environment. Rust runs rampant here all the same.
Beyond the outer walls and deeper in the cocoon is another story. The Citadel not only houses some of the more well-equipped warriors of this worldwide wasteland, but it also houses an all too rare idealism; the protection of those outside as well as those within. In the courtyard, a drill sergeant scolds initiates, which are what entry level acquisitions are called, commanding them to push their bodies, minds and skills to the limit for the purpose of furthering the lofty goals of the Brotherhood of Steel.
While this form of thinking is a marvelous innovation in and of itself in these post-apocalyptic wastes, deeper still into the Citadel are other forms of developments, these more scientific. Scribes, members of the Brotherhood's equivalent of a research and developments department, work day and night to improve upon their technology so that they may serve their purpose more efficiently. They tweak laser rifles, deadly weapons that vanquish flesh with the power of light as opposed to bullets, so that they may better serve their wielders.
It is within these walls where one particular woman resides, seated on a chair that can withstand her weight even while wearing power armor. She has one of those very laser rifles settled horizontally across her lap, and she cares for it with the same love a rock climber cares for climbing gear. Her eyes seek to penetrate the sleek, baby gray shell of her weapon, never quite giving hints as to the real whereabouts of her thoughts.
As she surveys her weapon for faults, examining its condition, Sarah Lyons finds herself thinking more about a recent visitor. The Capital Wasteland called him the Lone Wanderer, but she remembered him more as River or by the moniker he used the first time they crossed paths, Branchtender Osage. Every time she thought back that far, it was difficult not to grin.
He came off as some religious coot, brain banged up too much by the wasteland to function properly. And then . . . then the title suited him. The hood he wore enshrouded his facial features so that when people laid eyes on his stark red hair and bright green eyes, it felt like a restricted privilege, his shadowy nature well served by the notion.
The brown vest with dry branches protruding from its surface had a close fit on him, and it smelled earthy, like mud. It was more than enough to single him out as . . . some dingy wastelander, as she recalled, but then her eyes caught up to the openings on each side of the garb and his toned arms, bare to the pale moonlight that day. There was musculature there and not the type you see being typical to waste landers who travel enough. No, his physical condition was deliberate, something ascertained to her the day he came by the Citadel once and politely requested Paladin Gunny put him through basic despite already being a Knight.
After that, she noticed that he was also wearing combat armor leggings. Suddenly, he had her wondering. What was he?
These days, most of the things she knew about him were learned from Three Dog's broadcast or from conversations other Brotherhood members had with him and subsequently shared with her. Branchtender Osage was apparently a title he earned from a group of people who called themselves the Treeminders. His leather garb, stuck with dry branches, had been dragged through mud to conceal his scent from Yao Guai and Deathclaws, furious beasts with keen olfactory glands. He was from Vault 101.
A little while in and all of those facts stopped being so intriguing. They no longer corralled her mind and held it captive for hours on end. Thinking about it long enough gradually revealed that it was because she wanted to hear it all from him, which frustrated her because she had already invited him into her personal space, pointing out that perhaps they can get to know each other better in the future. He never took her up on that offer.
Now, her pride would not allow her to suffer the indignity of making the first and second move. Being in the military and receiving awards for her efforts left her with a strong give and take outlook on life. It made her protective, or perhaps a little reverent, of her efforts regarding friendships and . . . love interests. Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it, her mind clicked like a piece of machine work in her power armor. She resolved not to pursue it any further. River would not exist in her mental plane unless he was within the periphery of her eyes, where attention was simply necessary and nothing more.
For her, such a thing was very easy to accomplish. Her discipline made it possible, and as if to punctuate her new objective, she turned her full attention to the laser rifle and slapped a microfusion cell firmly into place before hefting it to her chest and standing up. The door opened just as she turned to it and stopped completely when River walked through it, his placid green eyes searching out her blues. She must have only spent a single second mulling over the irritating coincidence of this circumstance but when she answered, she had returned to her position, insistent on treating him with the same listlessness he seemed to treat her with.
"River," she uttered, watching him step in after offering up a nod that was more dutiful than friendly. About twenty seconds ago she may have allowed herself to mind his movements, the way she always did before her newly employed state of mind. They were slow but not lazy. Relaxed would be the word, but so much so that it was an absolute shock whenever he switched gears and moved like she knew he could. He was like the wind. Or . . . like water, or even a laser fired from her rifle. Otherwise, during times of peace, he moved like a sloth.
The moment River heard her greeting he could see that there was something different about it. It was times like these when his gradual nature helped him most. The fact that he took a few moments to respond appeared typical of him when in all actuality, it provided him with ample time to think about the interaction and respond accordingly. He settled for a small forward tilt of his head and a delicate little smile to greet her in return. After that, he leaned up against a wall and spoke, "Hadn't seen you since I've been here."
Sarah didn't know, but her interest in River was mutual. He often considered her personality and her circumstances in comparison to the other women he met on his travels. It was so different. In some ways, she was more the face of the Brotherhood than Elder Lyons, the man in charge, and River speculated the aging leader wanted it that way. He sometimes wondered if Sarah ever thought about that, or if she ever went as far as to consider the possibility that she was being groomed for eldership herself.
As far as River was concerned, there was nothing but promise in that prospect. Sarah had a strong, moral father offering guidance every step of the way and was a powerful person in her own right. Still, despite the many things he observed with his own eyes or the things he heard from his surroundings, he was aware that there were a thousand things that he would never know unless he asked. The only thing that kept him at bay before was, quite ironically, her father.
For Sarah, River's soft smile was a discombobulating notion. She noted friendliness in it but before she had too much time to mull it over, she answered, "Well you always sleep during the day." The second those words finished coming out, she almost winced, disdainful towards the fact that she knew quite a few things about him. Right now, the last thing she wanted him to know was that she paid attention to his habits.
In response, River nodded and a slow hand reached for the back of his head, where his fingers scratched, "Yeah . . . " he said breathily, "you're right, actually." Bringing his hand back down from his head, he shrugged his shoulders and spoke again, "I was wondering if we could sit down for a while somewhere and have a talk. You and I accomplished a lot together. It feels wrong not to know you."
"Sure," Sarah answered, her tone low and bereft of all forms of anxiety. "Where should we meet?" she followed up.
River found it odd that she asked where. When he approached, he figured wherever they're standing when he found her would be a good place to sit and talk. The question evoked an instinct that perhaps should have been buried by the post-apocalyptic world, one that warned him with distant whispers that despite Sarah's metal suit, the deadly laser rifle and her sharp attention, she was still very much a woman inside and the thought of being taken out somewhere appealed to her psychology.
"It just gets a little cramped in here."
He wasn't sure if she caught on to the fact that she had subconsciously overcomplicated their situation but before she could say anything else, he answered, "The roof overlooking Arlington Library. Less super mutant activity lately. Ten minutes?"
Sarah responded with a firm nod and River turned, moving towards the door while she moved her attention elsewhere, his image already burned deep into her mind. He was wearing something that looked comfortable. Firstly, a dusty sleeveless white shirt and secondly, a pair of black cotton shorts that stopped just slightly above his knee. His footwear was minimalist, something he picked up somewhere on the citadel, no doubt; a pair of black flip flops.
When Sarah approached, she caught view of River in the short distance sitting on the very edge of the roof overlooking Arlington Library. From where she was and because of the angled shine provided by the moon, she could see that his hair was a little longer than she remembered. The front and the top had always been a little bulky but the back was usually short, if she recalled.
Once she was close enough and River could hear her approach, he noticed something out of place. Those steps didn't belong to a soldier in power armor or in recon armor, so he turned to take a glance and encountered an image of such interest that his pupils dilated. Sarah was wearing a pair of shorts small enough to grant him view of her smooth, shapely legs. She likely didn't shave but the tiny vellum hairs were otherwise unnoticeable.
A black cotton t shirt and a pair of flip flops rounded out her outfit and she took a seat about two feet beside him. Her legs crossed before her and her open hands settled atop her knees while River watched her, his eyes stealthily surveying her legs, noting that this was the first time he had ever seen Sentinel Lyons wearing something so comfortable. Witnessing the sheer beauty of her physical femininity for the first time struck him over the head like a super sledge, a high tech sledgehammer that amplifies the kinetic energy of a swing to the point of irreversible devastation.
A Brotherhood Paladin in the distance gave them a cursory glance and returned his attention to the wasteland beyond the walls of the Citadel, watching for movement.
"Wearing the helmet for the recon armor's going to get uncomfortable with that long hair," she uttered. She remembered the day he offered River a position in the Lyons Pride, watching him take the recon armor instead of the powered one.
The small talk served to break the ice, causing him to reach up to his head, tugging at the hair that had indeed grown longer in the back and on the sides. With a tilt of his neck and a side glance in her direction, he concurred with a nod, "Yeah, going to have to cut it soon." The motion of his eyes moving back out to Arlington Library carried his vision past her toes; pretty things, even with no nail polish.
"I've been meaning to ask," he began, bringing his legs up from the edge of the building and crossing them in the same manner as she. Meanwhile, her attention gathered at his eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"The Brotherhood's campaign here in the Capital has been brutal. It would have been less so if Elder Lyons shared McGraw's point of view. Ever wonder if maybe the Outcasts are right?"
Sarah's answer came to him in hesitation, something River didn't fail to notice. Truth be told, he found a good measure of satisfaction in that. For a moment or two, he was expecting her to point out her loyalty to the Brotherhood and her father as the main determining factors for taking his side in that conflict but found that there was more nuance in her opinion. She was a soldier in the field and had watched her fair share of death. Many of her comrades wouldn't have suffered such terrible fates if her father was more like the leader of the Outcasts, whose sole interest was in technology, not the preservation of the people.
"I did wonder, yes," she admitted, "Until we brought the Purifier online. After that, there's been no room left for doubt. We've done a lot of good for the Capital and it feels good to see it start paying off."
There was a pause during which River acknowledged her and she assessed herself more thoroughly. It wasn't for a while until she wondered why he would ask her such a thing. "Why?" she asked immediately, turning to him.
"Well . . . " River answered, his eyes floating skyward to the clear skies, shifting in his seat before continuing, "Has there even been a female Elder in the history of the Brotherhood?"
That question rocked Sarah's mentality the same way her physical beauty struck River's moments earlier, so much so that there was a tickling sensation in the very center of her chest. Bringing up the topic was actually quite startling. She didn't respond until she knew that there was nothing to say other than what she speculated.
"No . . . but . . . "
This was when she captivated him. That her answer wasn't a simple no, that she had more to say after that, made it clear that this wasn't a foreign topic for her. She had thought about it before, perhaps even fantasized. However, this may have been the first time this idea had ever come up in conversation with anyone other than herself.
"I don't see that being a problem. Women get equal treatment in the Brotherhood."
Sarah's answer, River thought, could be believed to be an indicator of her desire to obtain eldership one day. The prospect pleased him, and gave her, in his eyes, an external beauty beyond that of her flesh. Any person, man or woman, had to be strong to strive for such goals, and that strength was ultimately what evoked him most about her.
"Father's in charge now."
River again acknowledged with a nod, but added, "And when he's not, you'll be around to pick up the mantle."
She took a deep breath and released it, this time reaching for the arches of her feet, grasping them tightly with her legs still crossed.
"That is if he doesn't vacate the position to you before he passes."
All these years working alongside a squad of friends and never once had one of them brought up the prospect of her Eldership. Thinking about it now, it made sense. Each member of the Lyons pride was there because each of them ascended beyond the limits of their peers, making each and every one of them formidable in their own respect. She wouldn't put it past them to desire Eldership themselves. River, on the other hand, wasn't lifelong Brotherhood, so it was easy for him to evoke this conversation.
"So," she said, with an almost distant tone, "Father vacates his position, I become Elder . . . where would you be?"
For River, the answer was simple, "Behind you."
His answer caused her heart to flutter in a way it never had. His voice was low, raspy and almost delicate, yet it didn't fail in making her, for once, feel as if she was cradled in a strong pair of arms that would protect her from anything that wished her harm. Granted, she didn't need such care, but it was nice to have it. She looked to him slowly and carefully, and he returned the glance. Images of her past flames flashed before her eyes, noticing the differences between what she felt then and what she felt now.
She balled it all up and set it on fire by flashing him a devious grin, "I would send you on the most dangerous missions ever, even by your standards. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into . . . "
River watched her with his eyebrows slowly rising, and she topped off her wicked retort in a mocking tone, "Mr. Branctender Osage."
He began to smile again, surprised and delighted with her humor, and his laughter only grew more unabashed as she continued.
"Rothchild wants a live Deathclaw? Deploy Knight Osage. A behemoth's tearing up DC with a giant chainsaw? Well, what are we waiting for? Get Osage on the job!"
River's eyebrows contorted nervously, his shoulders still bouncing softly because of the laughter, "Well . . . I guess I'll be done for. Can't you take it easy on me? I've been through a lot," he stressed with feigned, but convincing, sincerity.
"Oh no," Sarah refused, shaking her head, "I'm going to work you harder than any Brotherhood soldier ever."
River glanced at her then, the smile disappearing in exchange for a softer expression. She was still smiling when she caught him staring in her periphery, prompting her to look back at him in time to catch his . . . entranced look. With her ears and cheeks growing hot after realizing that her words could be misconstrued as a double entendre, she sped up again, yanking her eyes away from him to escape as quickly as she could, "So, what was it like in the vault?"
She cleared her throat and rubbed her calves as if searching for bumps or other imperfections, waiting for him to respond. River, meanwhile, closed his eyes very slowly and by the time they opened, he was looking far ahead into the wasteland again.
"It was simpler."
His tone was melancholy, as if longing for those simpler times, enough to make her smile fade.
"Everything was simpler there. Food . . . water . . . friendships . . . the list goes on."
"How were friendships any simpler?"
River's eyes angled downward, taking all the time he thought was necessary to build a response he believed was well constructed. "Out here, most people only develop friendships that are beneficial. Friendships that strengthen survival. In the vault, people developed friendships through . . . compatibility, I suppose you can say? If we both liked Police Stories, we could be friends. Not always the same out here."
Sarah's eyes flickered in thought, but she knew he was right. She even began to understand that the Brotherhood was a lot more like a Vault in that respect than she ever thought. Soldiers here had supplies aplenty and those soldiers and scribes who gravitated towards one another usually did so because of shared interests or compatibility in the battlefield as well as in the mess hall. For wastelanders outside of the Citadel, it was as River pointed out.
"Love was simpler, too."
The same startled ticklish sensation in Sarah's chest returned when he mentioned love. She did briefly wonder about River's love life, imagining that it had to be unlikely that he hadn't already taken advantage of his good looks and his accomplishments to partake in various different women throughout the wasteland.
"How so?" she asked.
"In the vault, your duties . . . usually . . . don't take you away from it, so you're never far from her."
Sarah watched him as if she was glancing into a sparkling ocean, searching for what lay at the very bottom. It eventually became clear to her that there had been a woman there for him, one whose absence he still clearly lamented. Swallowing the tough pill, she offered forth a fake platitude, "There was a girl. Well, I'm sure you'll see her again. You'll drop by on your travels eventually, right?"
River smiled, impressed with her perception, "Gee, guess that was mighty transparent of me. But no, I'll never see her again. Don't want to." Though his voice was still delicate, raspy and quiet, she could hear that there was certainty in it, and she, she couldn't help but ask why.
"Why?" she inquired, her forehead angling forward while her head turned to watch him.
"I did go back to the Vault. When I was done there, she told me I needed to leave. She was right, of course. My father and I caused a lot of trouble when we left. People died. For me to be around would be like leaving a piece of shrapnel inside as the wound heals all around. She did what she had to do," he assured, glancing again at Sarah and nodding in approval.
The wind blew and even though it was against her bare skin, Sarah didn't flinch. She found herself wrapped up in his words for quite a while until she heard his voice again, "Buuut . . . it was also fun down there. I was in a baseball team called the Alley Cats; they called me Johnny Slugger."
Sarah's lips widened into a smile then, and she put two and two together. Apparently, he was an athlete when he was younger. That explained why he was so physically adept, why he could swing that lawn mower sword around with such grace and strength.
"MVP of the league and it would have continued for ten years if I hadn't left. Led the little and big leagues in stolen bases since the first year I set foot in the field," he bragged. Sarah only watched him with a smile, her legs shifting in place. Bases weren't the only thing he was good at stealing, she thought, inwardly scolding herself for allowing herself to fall into such thoughts.
The wind blew again and this time, Sarah felt it biting at her skin, causing her to hug herself for warmth. River noticed and moved to stand, "We should get back inside. It's getting cold out."
"Yeah," Sarah concurred, standing up and turning around until the two of them walked side by side back towards the Citadel proper.
"Who cuts hair in the Citadel?"
Sarah paused internally a moment, aware that she could very well cut his hair but unsure if she should make it known. In the end, she was mature enough to recognize the sort of opportunity it provided. Rubbing her hands through his hair, circling around him all the while and standing in front of him periodically with her legs bare for him to see was as seductive a strategy as she could come up with, and it was too tempting to resist.
"I can," she proposed, her ears and cheeks growing hot again now that it looked like she was nearing the point of no return. She was going to seek it now, both because she was experienced enough to know how to obtain romance and because she couldn't fight the temptation anymore.
"You?" River asked, incredulously.
Her eyebrows pulled close, tight, as if his disbelief was unappreciated. She ascertained with a firm yes, and added that she cut Knight Captain Dusk's hair, too.
"Alright then," River responded. This time, she wasn't the only one whose body functions started to palpitate. Where would she cut his hair? If it was somewhere public, he knew it would be a benign endeavor . . . but if she took him into a more private setting, this was bound to be a curious, but exciting, night. The anticipation began to eat him alive.
Now that Sarah had him seated on a stool in a room that guaranteed nightlong privacy, she began to feel more and more seductive. Over the years, romantic relations of the past had honed her senses in this sort of thing. In her time as an adult, she had bedded two men prior to this day, each of which no longer held her affection. Though she wasn't in any romantic relationship now, she knew her way around them, and she speculated that such might not be the case for him.
The thought of dominating him romantically excited her to powerful extents. Not in a physical sense, but in a cerebral sense. That she had been the one who pulled the strings for him to end up alone in a room with her was a satisfying accomplishment. Thoughts of what might occur next created a voracious sense of anticipation for her as much as it did for River.
As she gathered her supplies, which included a barber comb, a pair of shears, and some cordless clippers that ran on energy cells, she sighed in exasperation, calling his attention to her.
"What's wrong?" he inquired.
"Dusk has the cape in her room. Take off your shirt or you're going to get hair all over it."
Sarah made sure for her tone to sound professional, sort of like when she divvied out orders to her subordinates during a mission. It served its intended purpose because when River glanced at the back of her head, he still doubted if whether this whole setup was what he thought it was. As a result, he removed his shirt and set it aside on a night stand, still in the dark, just the way she wanted him.
She didn't turn until a few moments later, her eyes aligned with her equipment, veiling her interest in what there was under his shirt until she looked and took a deep, long drink of his features. It was sculpted, muscular but not bulging. His pectorals were neatly defined but refrained from protruding very far from his chest. His abdomen was also neatly arranged in three rows of two, with the definition fading ever so slightly closer to the bottom. In tandem with his well-defined arms, his body was a masterpiece. It was enough that when her eyes passed over his pink nipples, her mouth watered and her nether region warmed.
She also noticed scars; jagged, ferocious little things that made her wonder what it was like to see him injured. When he said he had been through a lot, she knew he wasn't lying, but the scope of that was different now that she could see an extensive burn on his back, slits on his torso, and various other injuries that healed but never disappeared entirely. He wouldn't have gotten so banged up if he had worn power armor the whole way.
With River seated, she began by circling over behind him and combing through his hair with the barber's comb and her hands, just as she planned. The feeling of her fingers digging trenches into his locks was euphoric. Here and there his skull tilted in the direction of the brush as she undid tiny knots in his red mane, and continued until the strands were free from each other's grasp.
"I'm guessing you want it trimmed all around but more around the sides than on the top. Like how you had it when we first met."
"Yeah," River answered simply, noting with a good amount of interest that she seemed to remember his hair exactly how it was during their first meeting. Apparently, he left some kind of impression on her that night. Not so surprising.
That settled, she began the real work, her comb scooping up calculated portions of hair before passing the clipper along its length, causing specks of the stuff to come tumbling down. It started on the left side of his head, where she trimmed small layers of his short sideburns off before moving around to the back of his head, where she repeated the process.
He felt her trimmer lightly tugging at the back of his head but what flooded his senses was the way she pressed her body up against his back. With enough speculation he could surmise that her hips were pressing on his lower back and her breasts on his higher upper back.
Sarah's body warmed even further now that she was against his bare skin, teasing the prospect of doing the same but with no clothes of her own. The notion dimmed her eyes, leaving her expression soft and hungry for romance, something he couldn't yet see. She stayed there for a long while until she moved, each of them silent, and she stopped in front of him, this time to begin working on the hair sprouting from his crown.
Here, River had to wrestle with himself not to glance up into her eyes, but found it increasingly difficult when she inched close enough to him that her legs were parted by his folded right knee. Her thighs were bare immediately in front of him, leading down a long smooth expanse that ended with her pretty feet. With her arms raised over his head, her shirt skirted up along her torso, revealing a glimpse of her flat stomach to him.
There was a vacuum between them in term of vocal cues, but her breaths, the movements of her hands and the ways she positioned her body were louder than anything he had ever heard.
It eventually became too one sided for him, the display of her shapely legs and her flat stomach gradually shaving away his patience until his hands raised. Their motions were as if they were formerly of a statue that had to dislodge itself from a permanent pose, but when they found the back of her thighs, where his fingers touched and hooked to reel her towards him, they moved with an appreciable fluidity.
Sarah looked down at him, meeting his eyes halfway with her own before knowingly setting her tools down on a nearby surface. His fingers, now on the back of her thigh and close to grasping a chunk of her rear nearly made her tremble in anticipation. From there, she reveled in her success, and her hands each reached for the sides of his head, cupping his face in her surprisingly soft hold. Gently, she tugged him up as a gesture for him to stand, and watched as his legs unfurled, pushing him to his full height half a head taller than her. She looked up to him and he down to her . . . and their lips, slowly but surely, brushed. Once . . . then twice, then a third time for a lot longer, his arms wrapping around her waist and hers around the back of his neck.
With every additional brush of their lips, their holds tightened even more, passion boiling more wildly with every passing second. Sarah pulled herself onto him as if she intended for their bodies to merge and River's acted with more adventure, his hands sliding beneath her shirt and onto the smooth skin on her back. First he felt the tantalizing warmth of her body, second the spine in the center of her back, and then the smoothness of her sides as his fingers counted her ribs.
Suddenly, Sarah's desire to feel her bare body pressed against his overcame every facet of her composure and she pushed herself away from him. Her hands crossed in front of her, fingers digging beneath the rims of her shirt before she pulled it up and over her body. River's eyes angled down to watch her breasts spring free.
He lost control all over again and pressed forth, and his desire to ravage her collided with her desire to feel her naked breasts touching up against his chest. Her arms whipped around behind his neck again and his around her waist, his body turning her and pushing her towards the bed until she tripped over it, her back landing flat on its forgiving surface. Her upper body elevated to scoot up along the bed further but paused to see him reaching for her shorts, grasping them and pulling them down the length of her legs along with her underwear.
In one fell swoop, he finished revealing her frontal nudity and the dimly lit gaze present on his face evoked a fire in her that she wanted to spend hours upon hours dousing with him. His movements no longer relaxed, he was upon her before she could fully sit up and help him remove his shorts, and she was forced to lie flat down on the bed again. Then his hands pressed down against her sides firmly before expanding across her frontal torso, his fingers crossing and overcoming the pink protrusions at the apex of her breasts.
Her toned legs spread wide open to accept his hips between them, and when he settled there, she wrapped them around his waist and welcomed him onto her body the same way she would however minutes later, when he plunged into her. Not long after his hands graced her smooth breasts, his body angled down and she felt his warm, moist lips gracing them instead. His tongue and his breath washed over her left nipple while his hand massaged the other one. Her eyes shot downwards then, watching him act out and eventually . . . grinned.
Just as she was considering how satisfying it was to have seduced him, how satisfying it was to have him licking from her body with no restraint, his hips pressed firmly against her pelvis, teasing the prospect of penetration and her mouth opened wide. Her tongue slipped out, lapping at her lips before she let her body drop flat on the bed, arching her back and pushing her breasts up further into the air, where they continued to meet his enthusiastic lips. By then, each of their bodies had risen to meet the occasion with her internal cavity nearly dripping with moisture and his member stiff and upright. She could feel it while he could only imagine what was going on with her.
"Take it off," she whispered out, prompting him to sit up straight. When she saw him reaching for the rims of his shorts in preparation to pull them down, she realized that this was moving so much faster than she anticipated. There were so many things she expected to do before reaching this point, and River got a glimpse of it when he pushed his shorts down and felt her hands grabbing hold of his hips and guiding him towards her.
He never even saw it coming when her moist lips wrapped around his member and slid down along its length repeatedly, her tongue lapping at it inside with equal interest. River's mouth opened to draw in a deep breath as he looked down, peering into her closed eyes as she leaned in and out with satisfying rapidity. Sarah loved how smooth his member was upon her lips, smoother than any other portion of his body, something that distinguished it in a hypnotizing way and only held his hips close to her even tighter in response to it.
From River's perspective, he could tell that she was rushing each and every time she lowered upon his member as if she was trying to do as much as she could in the short time frame that they had. He could only guess the kind of thoughts that drove her lust for placing him between her lips, but he could see genuine and unadulterated enthusiasm in the act. She found pleasure in partaking in River's body, called his name repeatedlyin her head as she did it, and finally knew what it must have been like for whatever other women he had partaken in during his travels prior to tonight.
She let his member go free with an immoral pop of her lips and went onto her back, spreading her legs so that he could have a full glimpse of what awaited him. He did just that, looked down to see the nearly imperceptible blonde vellum hairs just above her womanhood before he inched towards her again. Likewise, she had noticed that he was well groomed down below, something she attributed to the time he spent in the vault.
When he reached down she peered straight into his eyes, never moving them in another direction even as she felt his member pushing past her outer labia. The tip penetrated further, followed by an utterly satisfying girth, and finally she closed her eyes and moaned into the air with restrained abandon. Meanwhile, River felt his sensitive member sinking into a moist, warm orifice that contracted around him before a pair of powerful legs pulled him onto her body completely.
His eyebrows furrowed and his hips started to shift back and forth repeatedly, staring at her face, her closed eyes and her supple pink lips, which were parted in a desperate effort to breathe successfully as he moved. Her hands spread out to the bed and her back pushed skyward again, arching as if her soul was trying to exit from her chest, and gripped the sheets tightly once she could hear the sounds of him clapping against her.
"Ohhhh . . . Riveeeeer . . . " she cooed, much to his delight. With her urging him to continue, even if it was indirectly, he surveyed her skin and noted the fact that power armor had done its job protecting her. There were no scars on her torso to be spoken of, only a mark on her left shoulder that he thought may have been a high powered bullet that penetrated the metallic mesh of the joints. Her face was smooth, beautiful even with no makeup, and received yet another tantalizing gift from her when she reached to the top of her head and removed the hair loop that tamed her golden hair. Letting it loose, it splashed across the bed on which she rested and her beautiful blue eyes were revealed to the world again by a pair of half-open lids.
With their eyes momentarily aligned, she put one final exclamation point on the fact that she was in control of their romance tonight. Her lips pursed at him, throwing a mocking smooch at him that drove him even crazier. For Sarah, watching him thrust his hips between her legs with such desperation was a triumph. The minutes passed and she began to see glimpses of his endurance. Thrust after thrust, he kept going, her legs eventually springing apart, feet no longer able to keep themselves hooked together around his back. They swayed in response to each of his movements the same way her breasts slid up and down on her chest.
That was when she settled down, laying on her back doing nothing as he did all the work. She watched him sit up straight and thrust into her like he wanted to split her in half, watched him turn her onto her side, letting her legs close with his member still inside of her. There, his pelvis collided against her rear, sending ripples across each cheek that he delighted watching.
Minutes later, her chest pushed outward, toes curling tightly until she sprayed River's member with a loud moan she attempted to drown against her pillow. It continued for a while after that, and it became a magnificent blur. By the time she felt him pull out, splotches of something so warm it was nearly hot landing on her outer thigh, her hips, and her sides, she had no idea how much time had gone by, and it didn't matter.
River dropped onto the bed behind her and she turned around, blindly reaching out to cradle his face before she pressed her lips firmly against his. He returned the gesture with as much enthusiasm and as she threw her left leg over his waist, his slid his onto her right thigh, which was resting flat on the bed. There, they cradled each other in their arms, listening to one another's breaths and pounding heart beats.
Sarah slid her sweaty forehead onto River's chest and went unmoving there, eyes slowly coming to a close, smiling warmly while she wondered if there was anything to say. She resolved to touch on the topic the next morning, going silent and ignoring him if he called to her until she actually fell asleep. He'd still be there the next morning, she was sure.
River's sleeping schedule was reverse. He rested during the hours of the day and lived his waking life beneath the moon and the stars, so when Sarah fell asleep on him after a night of passion and lust, he was left abandoned. He lay there with her in his arms for hours, thinking about what had happened, glancing at her beautiful face and wondering what would go through her head when she woke up the next morning.
Unlike him, she wouldn't have the time to think everything out thoroughly. By now, he had ruminated and arrived at the belief that this was the most satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had. Not only was he attracted to her physically, he found, but he was deeply motivated by her good nature to give her companionship, to give her his heart. Did she feel the same way?
She stirred and River flinched, startled, feeling her soft hand caressing his left cheek. "You're still awake?" she inquired, her voice delicate, reflective of her grogginess. "Go to sleep . . . " she urged, looking up at him in the darkness. He said nothing, choosing not to remind her of his nocturnal nature and tilted his head when her head dropped flat again, giving up on staying awake much longer.
"You're going to have to come back regularly so we can keep getting to know each other."
River's heart skipped a beat and resumed in a fury, something she eventually began to feel with her head resting on his chest.
"You do want to, don't you?" she questioned, her hand sliding along his left pectoral.
River paused to think about it, his body shivering as her hand slipped along his chest, remembering that he never expected her military discipline to make her this straight forward in matters of love. It looked like she was going to be as in control of her love life as she was of her military life.
"Yeah," he responded, "I do want to." With a kiss on her forehead, she settled back into place and closed her eyes, smiling warmly from an angle he couldn't see. She felt at home in his arms, on track as well, as if this was exactly where she was supposed to be at this moment in time. The future suddenly seemed so bright, and she couldn't wait a single moment to embark on the road that led to the rest of her days.
With him.