This is a fill for the Fallout Kink Meme. Prompt is: "Alright...so,I've seen a lot of fluffy/happy ending type of fills with Courier/Vulpes,and those were delightful,but what really gets me going are the angsty,dramatic fills about saint-like couriers falling in love with Big Bad Vulpes and having to deal with that attraction,since there's no way the Messiah of Mojave is gonna join Caesar Legion with her unshakeable morals.I'm also a sucker for onesided romances,I'm seeing Vulpes only having a passing mild interest in the Courier,but that interest is mainly fuelled by respect for her fighting he loses even that when he finds out she is just a woman,a woman who even while trying very hard to be emotionless,slips little clues about her longing for may try to manipulate her feelings,to play pretend lover just to get the Courier on Caesar's side and I believe the Courier will fall for his charades,but will never accept joining the ,they'll eventually come to blows,perhaps Vulpes will back-stab her when she no longer seems to be an asset worth winning over,or perhaps she will have to kill him to assure the defeat of the Legion. Anyways,I'd like to see how the Courier deals with all these painful feelings,or how she deals with her companions if they found out(Boone would surely throw a fit).Maybe one of them is actually infatuated with her and this feels like a double ,MAKE THIS AS DEPRESSING AS YOU any who will fill this,I will name my unborn children after . Sorry for the long prompt:("
It's my first Vulpes story, so I hope he's in character...
Clover pulled her hands away from her face as the heat finally retreated from her cheeks and the pulsing between her legs diminished to a dull throb. She stared at the patterned bedspread in accusation, as though it were at fault for her inability to catch her breath and her heart thumping wildly in her chest.
It was just a dream-no, a nightmare-and now it was over. She'd had nightmares about Nipton before. About the black arms of smoke that stretched up to the sky in silent praise, the gut-churning smell of bodies being devoured by greedy flames, the pitiful moans and pleas for death of those the Legion crucified. But this time it was different. They were still in her dream, the Crucified, wailing and begging, but she'd paid them no mind. Their moans of agony were drowned out by those of pleasure, the scent of skin melting in the fire was overwhelmed by the aroma of leather, metal, and a hint of water.
That manheld her against the side of a dilapidated building. The rough siding scraped up her back as he pumped into her with wild abandon. One hand clenched her thigh with bruising force while the other gripped her strawberry curls and yanked her head back so he could kiss and lick and bite her suntanned throat unimpeded. His warm breath lingered on her sweat-slicked skin and the searing caress of the fires roaring around them made the air almost too stifling to breath. He growled into her shoulder, like the beast he was, and raised his head to whisper against her ear in that language she didn't understand. Each word was accented by an extra rough thrust of his hips that left her mewling and edged her closer to...to...
Clover unleashed a feral snarl and threw her pillow across the room. The flush had returned to her cheeks and her legs were tingling as she kicked at the sheets covering her.
She was just lonely. Frustrated and lonely. If that bastard hadn't approached her on the Strip, she never would have given him a second thought. If he had just given her Caesar's stupid "mark" and been on his way she would've been fine. She hadn't even recognized him until he spoke, anyway.
"Ah, it's you. Do you recognize me, I wonder? It's been quite some time since we last met."
Clover stared hard at the dapper man, trying to put a name to the handsome face. He smiled only slightly, but it was mirthless. More akin to a coyote baring its teeth at its prey. A coyote...
The man's eyes crinkled in amusement when Clover gasped in realization and reached for her gun.
"You!"
"Me."
"I told you I'd shoot you dead if I ever saw you again!"
Her threat only made him chuckle and he stretched his arms wide, feigning an embrace.
"Well, here I stand."
His voice was the culprit. That dark voice that was intriguing and violating in all the ways a man had no right to be. It slithered through her ears, constricted around her throat, and coiled hotly in her belly like a viper ready to strike. Anyone would succumb to that velvet tongue, Clover told herself, how could they not? It didn't make her sick (did it?), and it didn't mean that Benny's bullet had scrambled her brain far worse than the Doc had let on (though her bullet would scramble hisbrain when she found him, regardless of the perversions his 9mm may or may not have injected into her).
She hadn't shot him, though the thought was first and foremost in her mind while he had stood there smugly. But she knew, and he knew, that no matter how badly she'd wanted to pull that trigger, she couldn't. To the Securitrons and the Strip-walkers, he was just another tourist out for a good time. She had no proof that he was one of Caesar's and if she splattered his brains over the pavement, hers would soon join him. So, she'd scowled, lowered her weapon, and barked at him to get out of her sight. He'd chuckled at her as though she were a child, but turned and went on his way.
God help him if they ever crossed paths again.
Clover pushed herself out of bed and shimmied into her ripped up jeans. She reminded herself that it was just a dream, that there was no use in dwelling on it. It was perfectly reasonable when she thought about all the underlying factors that could have played a part in her subconscious's little after-hours display. Vulpus Inculta was just a small drop in a huge pond.
She ran her hand through her tangled curls and sniffed the camisole she'd worn to bed. It could be fresher. Clover stripped the shirt off and tossed it into the corner of the room with the rest of her laundry that she would do tomorrow (or the next day...or possibly the next). She pulled open her small wardrobe and replaced the grey camisole with an off-white tank-top.
Maybe she would accept Caesar's "invitation" and maybe she wouldn't. Right now, all she wanted was a good breakfast and possibly a nice big bottle of wine.
Outside her bedroom door, Clover could hear the bustle of morning routines. She smiled softly and left the confines of her room to greet the day. She closed the door behind her and moved to the dining room, where she knew her boys would be congregating.
Boone had his head buried in the fridge, no doubt looking for something salvageable for breakfast. Raul sat at the table with ED-E laying disconnected in front of him, he grumbled in Spanish and cast accusatory glares at Arcade, who only sipped his coffee innocently.
"Buenos dias, guapo." Clover purred, wrapping her arms around Raul's shoulders and kissing his cheek.
"Easy there, Boss. Don't make this old man blush." Raul gave her a very ghoulish grin, ruffled her hair playfully, then went back to fixing the eyebot before him.
Clover sat down in the chair beside him and leaned against the table, catching Arcade's eyes with a narrowing of her own.
"Are you harassing my robot, Gannon?"
"Me? I wouldn't dream of it." He calmly finished his coffee, but the smile on his face was guiltier than the cat that ate the canary. Whatever a cat was...and a canary for that matter.
"Well, I wasconsidering treating you all to breakfast at the Ultra-Luxe, but now I'm not so sure." Clover sighed, examining her nails in the light. Boone perked up at the mention of food.
"You sure you really want to eat there, Boss?" Raul asked, tightening one last screw. He smiled as ED-E sprang to life. The eyebot beeped happily and floated off to wander the suite as though nothing had happened.
"As long as you don't eat the 'bacon' you're safe," Clover assured him.
"I never eat anything that reminds me of myself."
"Come now, Chloe, don't be stingy!" Arcade grinned as Clover flushed at the abhorrent nickname. "Your little death-trap is up and floating around, good as new."
Boone was already putting his boots on. He was even less talkative in the morning until he had something on his stomach, and it seemed he was going whether the group followed or not. Clover made a show of thinking about her decision before she sighed theatrically.
"Oh, alright! But only because I can't deny you boys anything," She added with a wink.
They followed Boone out into the foyer where he was waiting for the elevator. Clover bit her lips to hide her smile, knowing that no one could say a word to the man until he had fully awoken without the risk of losing a limb.
They walked quickly to the casino, Clover arm-in-arm with Raul with her another hand intertwined with Arcade's. They received a few odd looks when they stepped through the doors of the Ultra-Luxe, but Clover was immediately recognized. They relinquished their weapons (most of them), and were quickly ushered to the Gourmand.
After a few mouthfuls of food, Boone finally offered a curt "good morning" and continued to devour his meal. Arcade looked at the sausage on his plate skeptically, but after examining it he deemed it did, in fact, come from an animal and was safe to ingest.
Conversation flowed easily between their little group, even Boone tossing in a word or two (mostly just confirming or denying any questions sent his way). But, despite the camaraderie surrounding her, Clover had felt an uneasy pit in her stomach from the moment they took their seats. It was almost as though there were another guest at their table that sat just out of the corner of her eye.
Almost as though she were being watched.