Rated: M (M is for masturbation c;) Yay, my first shot at real smut! Tell me how I can improve, et cetera.
Summary: A certain King finds the Courier in a rather compromising position… (PacerxF!Courier)
Warning: Considering the speech imitated by the Kings, some of the speech grammar is purposely wrong.
"Pacer, couldja come 'ere for a moment?" The King called from his table. Pacer reluctantly stood from his post, signaling the nearest kid to take his place. As the new watchman became situated, he came over to the King's table.
"Yeah?" He asked. He swears if it's one more god damn favor for that bitch upstairs with the wacko name he'll-
"Couldja take this to Audio? I hear that the boys think she's sick or somethin', with all that moaning and groaning comin' from her room. I told them they might be confused, but they swear something ain't right." The King handed Pacer a small wrapping, possibly packed with medication for this 'illness'.
"Confused? Confused by what?" He raised a brow and the King chuckled darkly. His brow only shot higher.
"Tellin' you one thing, Pace. Knock on the door, first, will ya?" He asked kindly. Pacer nodded. He wasn't too fond of Audio, and for these 'respect' reasons he ain't gonna do shit. If she's retching and feeling sick he'll throw the damn package at her head- maybe spark a memory or two of packages and being struck in the noggin'.
Pacer jogged up the stairs, making a game of hopping from one corner of the stair to the opposite corner. When he reached her door he could tell what the boys were talking about. From outside her door he could hear a low groaning. You couldn't hear it from down the hall, so it was unclear on why Kings were pressing an ear against her door as Pacer was doing.
He slightly cracked the door open and peered about her room with disinterest. She didn't seem to be there, so he pushed it open all the way. A sweet smell seemed to smack him in the face. The fragrance in the air reminded him of fruits and women's perfume.
Pacer stepped in the surprisingly tidy area and looked around more, curious. Audio's fondness for dresses showed, little forms of fabric fitted over mannequins. A lacy and very sexy animal print nightie caught his eye but he pretended it was the trick of his peripheral vision. Pre-war knick-knacks spread over the desk, small porcelain kittens with cracks in their body pranced about on clay pedestals. Her Pip-boy had been laid beside them and Pacer picked it up curiously.
He played around with it a bit, pushing the dials and spinning knobs. He landed upon her holotapes and hissed inwardly. She had a bit of porn, their labels corny yet enticing. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought about why he had been there and about her moaning. He suddenly understood why the King himself was cautious.
Pacer slowly stalked over to her bathroom door, nearly slipping on a small discarded pair of underwear. To avoid repeating that mistake, he stepped over a slinky pre-war dress. He decided to knock this time, but noticed the door was already open.
Audio spread out among the water in the tub, her legs lazily splayed over the sides. Her hair was tied into a catastrophe of curls and tails that were on the top of her head. Her body was shaking with delight as a small delicate finger was rubbing between the space of her thin thighs.
Pleasured moans escaped between red lips, and all at once Pacer wished he hadn't been the one assigned to deliver. Audio was good for only two things; her body and her willingness to do work. She was intelligent, but she often didn't join such knowledge into her everyday life. Her oblivious manner made Pacer want to hate her and abuse her.
But now all he could do was hesitantly reach down and palm himself where his dick twitched with excitement. He was a man, she was an annoying woman. It only made sense.
Pacer trained his eyes on her hungrily; soaking in every last detail from her dainty little feet, stopping at her privates and chest, and continuing on until that little speck of hair that seemed to rise higher than the others on top of her head. He was half flaccid, but it was obvious Audio could make a wood pecker rise from the grave (whatever that means).
Pacer began to stroke himself, entirely exposed to the back of Audio. He bit his lips to keep silent, but she wouldn't be able to hear him over her own excited squeals. His thumb squeezed down over his slit and he almost unloaded himself right then and there. The calloused pad of his hand repeatedly and lightly scratched his cock, sending waves of sensation up and down his spine. Audio's fingers slipped in and out of her core with ease.
Pacer's breath became labored and soon enough a hot sticky liquid shot into his palm. He cupped his hand and squeezed a little tighter to avoid spilling it on the floor. To his surprise, his cock erupted once more with his semen when he heard Audio give the loudest yelp of an orgasm. He quickly struggled to pull up his pants without letting the warm puddle in his hand spill over. He was halfway out the door when he heard Audio getting out of the tub.
"Pacer?" She called and he felt like an idiot when he paused.
"Yeah?"
"Let's do this again tomorrow." She called from the bathroom and he slipped out of the room with a red face and another hard on. Audio followed into the hall a minute later, wearing a leopard nightie. She glanced down at the floor, a package of medicine at her feet.