I feel like I've been saying this a lot, but I dropped off the radar due to some major personal issues. Things seem to have gotten better, and I'm trying to pick up where I left off. If you're still around and reading, thanks.
That afternoon, Raul loaded the horse up with their bags, and they'd travelled. Not more than a mile or two, but they had moved at the horse's pace, and Emma had scouted ahead, trying to ensure that they didn't spook the horse with a fight. Aside from an encounter with a pair of molerats—more of an inconvenience than any real danger—the trip had been quiet.
They had been fortunate enough to find a fairly well-situated cave that evening. It was a good-sized hole in the rock, and there were boulders around the entrance which blocked it from view. The horse lipped at greenery while Raul and Emma set up a small camp; a fire banked so the light didn't spread too far, and a few threadbare blankets. Their packs served as pillows.
Not the most comfortable place they'd slept, but they had done worse.
"I'll take first, boss." Raul had said. Emma didn't argue, she was too tired. She stripped off her outer armor, and lay down, asleep before her head hit her pack.
In her dreams, Raul was as fascinated by her as he had been by the horse. His rough hands stroked her skin, and he whispered endearments to her in Spanish. She dreamed of their bodies touching, of friction building between them. Of kisses and caresses and stolen moments in each other's arms. Of undressing him slowly and tracing the patchwork of skin and scars, of his dark flesh upon her fair.
She woke with a jerk, her cheeks flushed and her breathing heavy. Raul sat nearby, his dark gaze on her, not the environment. Emma hoped she hadn't said anything in her sleep, though it likely she had given her dreams away in other ways. His eyes were too knowing.
"Rough dreams?"
He had to know what she'd been dreaming about. She wished she was the sort of woman who could use this to her advantage, who could seduce an experienced ghoul who'd seen it all. But she wasn't. She was just Emma, the Courier with no past, and who might not have a future.
"Yeah, you could say that."