Courtesy of a Falloutkinkmeme prompt. M for sexual content. Reviews/critiques are always welcome (I don't bruise easily).
May contain minor spoilers for McCarran and Forlorn Hope quest lines.
As always, Fallout and characters, locations, etc. are property of Bethesda and respective owners.
The Courier shifted uncomfortably on her rocky perch, wishing she had taken the time to pilfer a bottle of spirits before climbing the hill; never mind the need to be sober and functioning in the morning. The sun setting at her back left the hills awash in a gold and rose haze. It would be downright beautiful almost anywhere else in the Mojave.
If this wasn't goddamn Camp Forlorn Hope. She crushed the butt of her cigarette bitterly into the dirt. The sun hadn't set completely, but it's rays had long since given up on Forlorn Hope. The camp hunkered down behind the hill, cast in a deep shadow that went beyond mere lighting. Even the air down in the camp was thick, cloying, filled with the despair and panic that seemed all the camp consisted of now.
The Courier had done all she could. Restoring hope was a fool's cause; she had tried all the same. Why? She still wasn't sure. It probably had something to do with walking through a minefield of disabled NCR soldiers, just begging to be put out of their misery. That and the three sorry grunts crucified in the middle of Nelson, as seen through Boone's scope. She normally didn't give two shits about the NCR, but the Legion was a rabid dog that needed to be put down and she sure as hell wasn't going to be able to do it herself. Seems she kept getting into animal control – first the fiends, now this. The Mojave was crawling with filth, and no matter how many of the bastards she killed there was always more.
The unmistakable crunch of footsteps coming up the hill brought her out of her thoughts. Too light to be Boone, she thought to herself. No matter what the man said about being a sniper, he clomped around so noisily sometimes she thought he wanted to give his position away. The man had a death wish, that was for sure. Two peas in a fucking pod.
"Was told I might find you up here." Deep, calm voice. She didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to. She had spent a lot more time at Camp McCarran than she had originally planned, and had to accede that some NCR grunts weren't too bad.
"Thought you were still up at McCarran, Gorobets. Don't tell me Dhatri's got you gunning for Dead Sea now. You'll just be in for more disappointment." She lit up another cigarette. Maybe the night wouldn't end so badly after all. Shooting the shit with the Lieutenant sounded a whole lot better than tossing and turning all night – and she sure as hell didn't want to put up with any more of Boone's fevered anticipation.
"Well, you did put 1st Recon out of a job when you took down Driver Nephi." He sat next to her and lit up his own cigarette before continuing. "You know, we waited for you at the rock crushing plant. You could have told me you were going to cut us out of the action – saved us a hike."
"Stow the recrimination Gorobets. You know how crazy shit can get." She shook her head at the memory. "Fucker was up against a mini-gun and a pissed off sniper, and he still charged with that stupid ass golf club. If I didn't need the caps, I'd have let you have him no problem."
Gorobets chuckled. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes watching the last of the sun's rays fade out, before Gorobets brought them back to the present.
"So what's this I hear about you leading a suicide mission on Nelson tomorrow?" His tone was carefully neutral. The Courier's temper was damn near legendary at this point, as any number of NCR brass could attest to.
"You know me. Always got to be in the thick of it." She flashed him a big shit-eating grin that made her appear more than a little insane in the dying light. "I think Boone would have assaulted them all by his lonesome if I wasn't the hand of temperance." Gorobets let out a snort at her emphasis.
The Courier took a long drag on her cigarette. "Besides, I've got a plan and Cooper's squad to help me out if the shit gets too deep." And it will, she added silently.
She rocked her torso, bumping her shoulder up against his. "Never known you to be a worrier Gorobets. What's up?"
Gorobets let out a deep laugh. "Betsy would have my ass if something happened to you. She thinks you'll come to your senses soon and run back into her waiting arms."
The Courier joined him in laughter. It felt good; something that had been sorely lacking in her life of late. "She needs to get her head out of the clouds. Shit. This girl's got needs, you know."
"And is Boone meeting those needs?" His voice was almost soft.
She shot Gorobets a sidelong look. "The only thing Boone is concerned about right now is creating a river of Legion blood deep enough to swim in."
"Hmmm. That's too bad then." The Courier wished she could make out his expression, or at least that she could pop a couple Cateye tabs. She was never very good at making things out in the dark.
"I don't need a pity fuck LT." She snuffed her cigarette and stood to leave. Hitting the bunk didn't sound too bad now, and she was pretty sure she knew where a bottle of scotch was on the way.
Gorobets was on his feet in an instant, grabbing her wrist. The Courier spun on him, angrily. Drawing on all her experiences with Cass, she had several choice words at the ready. Unfortunately, they died on her lips a second later.
"Who said anything about you." He muttered huskily, pulling her into his embrace. Feeling his lips pressed against hers, she was struck silent, feeling like she had been blindsided. Snipers work in pairs. It didn't take a genius to note there were only five members that she had seen, leaving Gorobets the odd man out as commanding officer.
Fuck, at least I get to chose my suicide missions. She didn't know why he was reassigned to Camp Forlorn Hope; hell, she didn't want to know. Walking into camp must have felt like a noose around the neck. I'm too sober for this shit.
Whatever doubts she had been having about the assault on Nelson disappeared; one more reason added to the growing tally. Fucking bleeding heart.
She found herself kissing him back. Goddamn the man can kiss; the thought struck out of nowhere. She couldn't remember the last time she kissed anyone – guy, gal, ghoul - without an abundance of alcohol to make things sloppy and a bit surreal. Maybe it was the thought of imminent battle in the morning and the very real possibility of failure or death, but her half-hearted objections died before she could even voice them.
The Courier could feel Gorobets' hands all over her body. He was lucky enough that she had changed into her civvies earlier - the thin worn fabric did little to impede his roaming hands. She on the other hand, had to settle with threading her fingers through his hair under his beret due to his bulky NCR armor.
She tightened her fingers in his hair and pulled him a few inches away. "I appreciate your enthusiasm Gorobets, but ya need to give me something to work with." She thrust her hips forward against his armor clad thighs for emphasis.
Together, they managed to remove his armor, quickly followed by her clothing. Both shed their undergarments in the midst of kisses and caresses. The Courier was suddenly glad that she hadn't snagged anything to drink on her way up. She didn't feel slightly numb as she usually did during her drunken liaisons, and his hot flesh against hers made her feel acutely aware of the sharp ache she felt blooming deep within.
Her flesh gave way under his rough caresses. His calloused fingers on one hand kneaded her breasts, occasionally pinching a nipple, while the other hand contented itself by grasping her ass. Without the dulling blanket of alcohol her need racked her body, causing her to hitch and shiver under his touch. When his kiss broke off from her lips and traveled to her neck, the Courier thought she was going to lose it. She felt the unmistakable sensation of her juices escaping the folds between her legs.
She twisted in Gorobets' arms, pressing her back against his firm chest. She was immediately rewarded with the feeling of his erection pressed against the cheeks of her ass, quickly followed by his kiss against her neck. They rocked against each other like that for a moment before Gorobets lifted her thigh, guiding it to a rock outcropping for support.
She felt a moan escape her throat when she felt his member slipping against her, seeking entry. It seemed to take Gorobets forever to finally find the right spot for entrance. She felt the head of his cock slide home, accompanied by a light bite against the nape of her neck. The exquisite moment nearly sent her to climax, her body shivering in a manner that was entirely unrelated to the cooling air against her skin.
Gorobets held her in his arms, their bodies lightly connected. His lips continued their light exploration of her neck, but his hips were maddeningly still. She began pushing back against him, finding if she pivoted her hips, he would slip in deeper. It still wasn't quite enough, the imperfect angle imposed limits that did little to quell the rising tide of desire.
"Care to lend a hand here?" she practically growled. Gorobets seemed content to have her writhe in his arms. If she weren't so intent on finding fulfillment, she would have gladly decked him.
"Is that what you want?" he murmured against her neck, leaning her ever so slightly forward. The Courier let out an inarticulate moan as one of his hands dropped from where it placidly held her torso and brushed lightly against the lips of her sex. His chuckle tickled the small hairs on the back of her neck. "I guess that's a yes."
Just as thoughts of violence were beginning to resurge, Gorobets bent her swiftly over. He thrust himself forward, and the Courier released a small cry that was quickly stifled. He plunged deeply into her over and over, relieving the deep ache that had been building at his earlier shallow thrusts. It took concentrated effort to keep her cries from escaping her throat – the last thing she needed was a concerned patrol to happen upon them.
When the Courier felt his fingers follow through on their earlier promise, her concern over passing patrols was forgotten. His touch was almost too much. Combined with his deep, firm thrusts, she could feel her orgasm building.
"Don't stop" she managed through clenched teeth.
Gorobets grunted his acknowledgment. He picked up the pace, and was soon slamming into her with every thrust. His fingers continued their dance, and when he added an almost painful grip on her breast she could no longer hold back.
With a soft moan, the Courier felt control fall away. All awareness was obliterated by the eruption of pleasure. Gorobets slowed his thrusts as her muscles clenched around him. She was scarcely aware of his mouth against her back, letting lose a low moan into her flesh. Just when her prolonged orgasm threatened to cross into sensory overload territory, Gorobets delivered a few final deep deliberate thrusts, spilling into her.
The Courier savored the aftershocks that shuddered through her body as they righted themselves. It was all too easy to stand there with Gorobets arms around her and let all her concerns melt away. Ever since being dug out of her Goodsprings grave, she had felt herself hurtling towards some inescapable foreordination. Her life had been ripped from her hands, and now she lived for the Mojave; anything to put off setting foot in the lair of the man who shot her.
She forcefully cleared her thoughts of her musings. Fuck. You'd think I'd gone soft in the head. Clearing her throat, she stepped out of his grasp. The moon had risen during their antics, and she used the weak light to locate and begin donning her clothing.
"Try not to let Betty kill you LT. Next time, let's try to find a bunk, or at least somewhere I don't have to hike on unsteady legs afterward."
She barely registered his chuckle in response. Shit. Next time? I have gone soft in the head. Been spending too much time around Veronica. She could practically hear Veronica's bubbly voice cooing on about how things would be when everything was all sorted out. You'd think reality would have her beat down by now.
After she pulled on the last of her clothing, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Gorobets had his back turned to her, still working on re-armoring himself. She took a moment to drink in the sight of his chiseled muscles, faintly highlighted in the moonlight. That armor is a damned shame.
The Courier took a deep, clearing breath. She was going to be flirting with death tomorrow; not that that was any real departure from her usual day. She saw the potential emotional quagmire ahead. No need to add any baggage to that train. Gorobets was a soldier, he would understand.
Taking one last glance at the dressing soldier, the Courier smiled sadly to herself and faded silently into the shadows.
Gorobets will understand.