A/N: Got a nice little lemony snack in this chapter ;) Also, I know I changed the layout of the room. Go with it. XD

Burn me up, take me down
Take my love and blow it out
Keep the ashes from my heart and walk away
Pull me into your fire, wanna hold you tonight
I'll slow dance with the devil
- Parson James, "Slow Dance with the Devil"

"That's Stepanic. He's a comm officer, but he runs the place when Beaumont is out on a mission."

Vulpes glanced at the redhead beside him before returning to his binoculars. "Your willingness to share information about these profligates is cause for concern."

"It's business as usual for you, right? I'm sure you already had plans on the books for them." Jordan picked at her nails. She had convinced him to continue in her company once they had reached Novac and they were now hidden on a ledge high above Ranger Station Charlie.

"But why share information, knowing that you are further securing their deaths?" Vulpes eyed her once more. She sat leaning against a small boulder beside him and in the afternoon heat he could see a lone drop of sweat making its way down her neck, sliding through the angles of her collarbone, and heading towards her chest. His mind drifted momentarily to the curves of her breasts that the enviable little drop would be tracing.

She shrugged. "For one, you don't have to kill them. And two, once the NCR finds out what I'm up to, they will start causing problems for me. I travel through here quite often, so it's a strategic move on my part."

Vulpes wasn't sure what was more attractive – her ruthlessness or her pragmatism. He'd have to examine that issue later, however. Enough time have been lost surveilling the outpost and now he would not make it to Cottonwood Cove by nightfall. A stay in the Legion safehouse was in order for the night; he could finish his journey the following day.

Inching back from the ledge, he dusted himself off. Most of the ground was still sodden from the previous day's rain, but the shallow soil of the rocky ledge had already dried. Extending his hand to help Jordan to her feet, Vulpes nearly caused her to trip from the force of his pull.

"Damn," she said with mirth.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he headed south.

/

"Finally tired of the turtleneck?" Jordan asked from her perch on the table.

Vulpes pulled the shirt off over his head and did not fail to notice the appreciative look on her face. "I always change before entering Legion territory. It prevents an attack from an inexperienced recruit."

She nodded. "Makes sense."

Hopping off the table, she sauntered to a row of nearby lockers. Whoever had lived at the ranch last hadn't left much in the way of loot. Such places always frustrated Jordan a little bit, but she was relieved when she opened the last door. A weathered, faded copy of Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea sat forgotten. She grinned in silent victory. It was a book she didn't already have.

"Where are you headed?" Vulpes asked. He hadn't bothered to inquire about her travel plans the day before, but now found himself curious.

"I don't know," she admitted and slammed the locker door shut before returning to the table. "Heard a rumor about a Tesla cannon nearby. Might go check that out."

He stole a brief glance. "You left without having a plan?"

"Cabin fever will do that to you."

He could agree to the truth in that. As a member of the Frumentarii he was never in one place for very long. How some Legionaries stayed at the Fort for months on end was beyond him.

Reaching for the outer layers of his Legion armor, he caught Jordan's eyes raking their way across his body. It was almost lewd, the way she looked at him. If it had been anyone else, he imagined he would have reprimanded them.

Oh, you could give her a tongue-lashing, all right, his mind goaded.

Realizing that she had been caught, she threw him a wink. "I'll be outside."

/

Jordan's knuckles grazed against his and Vulpes wasn't sure how much more he could take. She had been pushing his buttons since they left Wolfhorn Ranch and in the hour they had been walking, he had discovered he had a lot of buttons. They were only a few minutes from the safe house and he was certain that if she followed him inside, his self-control was going to fall apart.

As they climbed the hill, a humble cottage came into view, its once bright yellow exterior nestled back against a stone wall. Vulpes could tell from the fire pit out front that Atticus was not there and no one else likely was either. Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

He knew he should not sleep with Jordan again. He was still upset with her betrayal and the day it came out that she was no friend of the Legion, there would be a bounty on her head, himself being the one forced to put it there in all likelihood. He also hadn't been using her as any decent spy would, instead returning to her over and over for his own selfish purposes and forsaking the very notion of gathering intelligence on her. His father would have said it was "very Romeo and Juliet," what they were doing. Vulpes had always hated that play. Macbeth was far superior.

Jordan strolled into the safehouse behind him, taking in the starkness of its main room. Just a bed, a couch, a small table, and a Legion banner. Before she could take in the room's finer details, however, Vulpes had slammed the door shut and shoved her into the wall. The force with which she landed almost took her breath away. Preventing her from turning to face him, he pressed her hands to the worn plaster beneath his own. She was almost certain that he would notice the pounding of her heart when she felt the tip of his nose glide up the column of her throat.

His voice was like a purr as he slid a hand around her abdomen. "You have been weakening my resolve since we left our last stop."

It was only a quick flick of his wrist and her belt was undone, his hand dipping below the waist of her pants. Jordan sucked in a sharp breath when his agile fingers found what they had been searching for. She allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder and when his breath ghosted the rim of her ear, she let go. He was whispering something to her then, but she couldn't focus long enough to understand.

Wanting to return the favor, Jordan's free hand found his thigh behind her. With some inching, she snaked her way under the groin protector of his armor and began to fondle him through the fabric of his tunica. The hiss and subsequent groan told her he was appreciative of her efforts.

It wasn't long before Vulpes removed her hand and turned her around to face him. Without waiting, he began to undo the laces and straps of her armor, working it off of her as he dragged her towards the bed. Jordan responded in kind, tossing his gear aside carelessly as she went.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, fingers running over scars and curves when she at last stood nude before him. His smile was soft when a blush crept into her cheeks. He knew it was not something she heard often, if ever, despite the undeniable nature of its truth.

Not knowing what to say, Jordan alighted on the edge of the bed and drew him closer. She took a moment to study him from where she sat and sighed in contentment. Seeing his naked flesh was always like a religious experience for her. She was certain salvation could be found in the shadows of his muscles.

Vulpes's body shook with a gasp when her mouth enveloped him, hands sliding up his thighs and resting on his hips. The push and pull of her warm cavern overtook him and with every stroke and swirl of her tongue, he felt himself being dragged under waves of euphoria. Grasping her shoulders and hair to steady himself, a pant escaped him as Jordan moved one hand onto the planes of his abdomen and another began to massage him below. He was completely at her mercy, his body offering no defenses against the commands of her warm flesh. He had to find a way to make it end before it came to a crushing halt on its own.

"S-s-stop," he said. She pulled away at once, concern flooding her expression. It was a reasonable reaction. He had never asked anyone to stop.

Collecting his breath once more, Vulpes pressed her towards the mattress, signaling for her to scoot back. When he had pinned her to the sheets, Jordan brushed her fingers over the contours of his face. Eyes hooded and brimming with emotion, she whispered, "I love you." Catching the brief torment that pulsed through his eyes, she added, "Never stopped."

Vulpes captured her lips with the fervor of a starved man.

/

Boone had caught sight of her loitering around outside of Wolfhorn Ranch. When she left with a Legionary minutes later, he had been unable to take the shot – the wind was all wrong and the distance was too great. The odds of shooting Jordan instead of the bastard in the dog hat were too great. They'd kept a quick pace as they headed south, and he, not wanting to reveal himself yet, hung back.

He was almost glad he hadn't rushed into things when they entered what appeared to be a safe house. He could turn the location over to some buddies still active in the NCR and they would make sure it was never of any use to those worthless shitheads again. He felt his apprehension rise, however, when Dog Hat slammed the door of the cottage shut behind him. Jordan had to be with the son of a bitch against her will. There was no way she would follow a Legion officer around if she had a say in the matter.

Moving to a more advantageous spot, Boone found himself on a rocky outcropping a few hills over from the front of the little house. From there he could see without being seen. Stretching himself out across the warm earth, he set his rifle into position and lowered his eye to the scope.

The curtains of the structure's only window were half open and to his horror, Boone could see the Courier being raped. Rocking forward on her elbows and knees, copper waves spilled out across the mattress and her hands fisted the sheets. It was a position she had outright refused to do with him when they were sleeping together, saying she would not submit to a man like that. Attempting to line up his shot, Boone swore under his breath when he realized that most of the Legionary was obscured by the curtain. So he waited and begged himself not to watch, tears stinging in his eyes and the wood of his rifle straining under his grip.

When he checked his scope a second time, he found that Dog Hat had changed their arrangement. Jordan now straddled his lap, his muscular arms snaking around her, holding her upright. Again the man's head was hidden by the curtain and Boone could not take the shot. If he did, he ran the risk of hitting Jordan or just missing altogether and escalating the situation. He ignored the ache spreading through his jaw while the nightmare continued to unfold.

Lip reading was something one learned to do as a sniper. Being able to understand what was being said was often helpful, not only in intelligence gathering, but in taking the shot at the right time. It was a skill Boone wished he did not have in that moment as horror turned to confusion. Through the lens of his scope, he watched as Jordan threw her head back, no doubt reaching her orgasm, and three little words tumbled from her lips.

Anger and doubt began to cloud his mind. It had to have been some kind of syndrome – that kind that hostages got when they spent too long with their captor. No, no. For all he knew, she had only been with the Legionary the one day. That wasn't long enough for anything, was it? But why would she say those words? Maybe he had misread them.

Not realizing that time had passed, he was jarred from his thoughts when the man came into view. Before Boone could squeeze the trigger, the curtains swayed shut.

/

Dawn had crept into the Mojave and cast its pale glow over the safe house. Jordan was already up and dressed, rummaging through a corner of the basement in search of food. A container of flour and a box of Dandy Boy Apples sat forgotten behind a group of barrels and crates. That would work fine.

"What are you doing?" Vulpes stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded across his chest, wearing nothing but his boxers and a questioning look.

From her place at the bottom step, Jordan held out her spoils. "Breakfast."

"You should not have gone down there."

"Don't worry. I didn't go through your shit," she said with a scoff and a laugh as she passed. Pausing at the front door, she added, "Get dressed and come outside."

Whoever tended the safe house had kept the firewood inside, away from the elements and roving thieves. Jordan appreciated the forethought as she built and tended a small fire with ease. Most people in the wastes just left their wood outside and then wondered why it was stolen or why it wouldn't burn. She was reaching for the battered cooking pan at her side when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Boone stood across the distance from her, rising out of the shadows of the landscape. Jordan's hand froze in its pursuit and she got up from the fire in haste, startled by his presence. He needed to leave before he found out who else was there.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed.

"I could ask you the same thing."

She could hear the venom in his voice and observed a difference in his gait. There was something threatening around the edges of his usually casual stroll. "I'm looking for that Tesla cannon we heard about a while back."

"In a Legion safe house?"

She felt her adrenaline kick up a notch. "Is that what this is?"

"You know damn well it is," he snapped. "And I don't think the kind of cannon you're looking for is going to be between the legs of a Legion officer."

Jordan was confident that the color was draining out of her face in record time. Shit was about to go sideways in a most violent fashion. "Boone…"

He took another step forward, leaving only a few yards between them. "Are you here against your will or are you just a red skirt's whore now?"

She registered the almost imperceptible jerk of his head and turned to see Vulpes, fully clad in his uniform, standing in the doorway of the house. "Fuck," she muttered and berated herself for how cliché her next words were. "It's not what you think."

"Now what I think?" Boone barked out with a laugh. "You fucked him and told him you love him. Exactly what am I supposed to think?"

Jordan shuddered in disgust on the inside, but stood her ground, fury beginning to boil up inside of her. Since when did he have the right to be upset about her love life? He had never had any claim on her heart. Hearing a boot crunch in the dirt, she held out a hand behind her, begging Vulpes to stay where he was. "You need to leave, Boone."

His face was tinged with pink and a vein began to protrude from his neck, adding to the aura of a man who was not quite keeping it together. "I just want to know why!"

The sharp rise in the volume of his voice had come close to drawing a wince from her. "Why what?"

"Why was I never good enough?" he shouted. "I was by your side for months, crawling all over this godforsaken desert for you! I healed you, I fed you, I got you off! I gave everything I had and all of it to a lying slut!"

A lying slut? It wasn't the first time in her life she had been called that or worse, so she ignored his attempt at getting under her skin. Her rebellious streak, though, that part of her that became indignant when pushed too far, pleaded for her to laugh at him and tell him to do better. Yet she knew that mocking someone who was becoming more and more unhinged was in poor taste and altogether unwise.

"I was never yours!" she yelled. "I never belonged to you, Boone!"

"Oh, is that it? You've sold yourself into slavery like a goddamn idiot?"

Jordan visualized a well-placed throat punch and pinched the bridge of her nose. Behind her, Vulpes shifted on his feet. He was growing bored with the clusterfuck of emotional baggage spilling out of the sniper before him.

"I am not his slave," she spat.

"Then why?" Boone's knuckles were turning white and his voice echoed through the desert. "Why would you turn your back on me, on everyone, for that Legion piece of shit?"

"Because he's my husband, you ass!" Jordan roared back, chest heaving in frustration. She could deal with people attacking her all day long, but her former companion's insulting of Vulpes was a step too far.

Boone launched himself at her with a guttural cry, knocking her from her feet and pinning her to the ground. Throwing her leg over his head, Jordan moved to hold his arm, but her grip slipped. At her mistake, he shifted to straddle her, and, grabbing her by her shirt, lifted her upper body to slam her into the hard-packed earth. Feeling the air evacuate her lungs, she found herself powerless to stop the blows he began to rain down on her.

In his shock at seeing Jordan bested, Boone had struck her three times before Vulpes could move to tackle him. As he worked to gain the upper hand and restrain the sniper, Jordan lay wide-eyed and gasping for air behind them, instinctual panic washing through her while her lungs burned. It had been years since she had had the wind knocked from her.

When Vulpes had subdued Boone to his satisfaction, he made a point to return the punches that the man had dished out to Jordan moments earlier. Jerking the Ripper free from his belt a moment, he changed the nature of his assault and pressed its teeth to the man's throat, daring him to fight back.

Boone's motions stilled when he felt the instrument against his soft and fragile flesh. Hovering over him were the unnerving eyes of the Legionary, a primeval frenzy obscuring the electric blue and giving Boone the distinct feeling of prey being caught in a trap. He could almost make out the beasts moving in the darkness of the Frumentarius's eyes, waiting for the right moment to come out of the shadows.

"Stop!" Jordan croaked. Neither man removed his stare from the other. "Let him go."

Vulpes sneered at the sniper and pushed himself to his feet, never allowing his gaze to leave him. Taking several measured steps back, he watched as Boone rose, picking up his beret as he went. The sniper's focus slid to Jordan and back to his attacker before he turned and left.

Continuing to monitor Boone's departure, Vulpes moved to help Jordan stand. "That was a mistake."

"I know." Her voice was full of gravel and her breathing still ragged. "But he is – was – my friend and I don't want to watch him die."

Noting that the retired soldier wasn't slowing his pace or glancing over his shoulder, Vulpes at last took in Jordan's appearance. Her cheek and lip were already beginning to show faint signs of swelling and her nose was bleeding.

"I thought you had it," he said by way of apology. Untying a strip of cloth from his arm, he began to clean away the blood pooling on her upper lip. "Come to the Fort with me."

"You know I won't do that."

"Damn it, Jordan. Now is not the time for recklessness. Your 'friend' is going to go back to Vegas or McCarran or Golf and spill everything he knows. Are you prepared for that?"

"He doesn't know much –"

"Then he will fill in the blanks!"

"- and I don't need your protection."

Vulpes stared at her and sighed. She was right. He had not been there to watch her back in ten years and she had more than managed. She was also acutely aware of the kind of fight she was setting herself up for and she wasn't flinching.

Cupping the side of her face, his thumb traced the curve of her cheek. "So I am still your husband?"

A/N: I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on this! XD