Hands on hands, fingers intertwined- skin touches and eyes role back into heads as hips thrust together in an erratic, rhythmic movement- together, apart, together, apart. Steady chants of "more," and "harder, Charon, please," burn his ears as the panting, wanton, writhing woman underneath him consumes all possible thoughts.
The bed beneath them shook- head board clashing into the wall behind them as he drilled into her over and over- sweat dripping from his forehead and down onto her chest. Green eyes locked with faded ones as breaths became quick and shallow and the air around them felt too thick.
"Ch-Charon… please, oh God," Sierra panted, dark lashes fluttering closed from intense pleasure. It fazed him for a few moments; those few words, but Charon soon picked back up his pace due to the soft whine of disappointment from under him. He had never thought of her as the religious type.
But in a few moments none of that mattered anymore because her insides squeezed and oh, everything just felt so tight, and warm, and slick. He was even starting to do it: call out to a god that neither one of them believes in. Reality became a distant image as his thrusts quickened and his entire body started shaking. She held onto him tightly- legs wrapped around his waist and hands clutching at his shoulders seemed to be the only thing keeping him grounded.
Words began to flow freely, almost involuntarily, from his lips when all he could think of was her wet heat, and her skin, and her lips, and his want- he wanted everything, all she could possibly give and more.
He thinks he shouted her name at some point. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter. Caramel arms gently encircle his neck as her scent helps him recover his breath while intoxicating him all at once.
He thinks he heard it- her whisper something into his shoulder- swollen lips forming words against his skin.
"I love you…" she said, almost not wanting him to hear, possibly saying it more for her benefit than his. He hasn't said it first. He never says it first. And oh, how those words haunt him- hiding behind every one of her smiles and lingering touches. And he wants to. He wants to say it, but words are just words, and he's never been much of a talker anyways. Guns seemed to get the job done well enough, no talking needed. But now there's no supermutant or raider nearby to threaten, or kill, or intimidate, or protect her from. No. Now it's just Charon, Sierra, and this bed that they've made officially theirs.
And so he says "I know," simply because he does. He does know, and he cares, and he listens, and maybe he does love her. But love's just a word, and words don't mean anything.
So he holds her instead.