"Yuck!"
The sound of distaste snapped Charon's head on a swivel, and he gave a quick zip of his pants. Small rocks crunched loudly under the heavy weight of his boots; arms crossed and grimace set, the ghoul gave a disapproving stare down at his employer spitting loudly and wiping at her tongue with filthy fingertips.
"Oh, fuck. It's on my gloves!"
This ensued to more dribbled spittle, and soon Evelyn was on her knees, gagging.
Charon rolled his eyes, pulling her upright by the elbow. "Stop that. You will make yourself sick, and you are almost out of water."
The days were growing increasingly warmer- enough so he was constantly pulling out her canteen as a passive reminder to keep her hydrated. An episode of forced vomiting would not spell good for her health.
"But it's icky!" she whined, and he nabbed at her hand before it could make another fatal swipe at her tongue.
"What did you eat?" he asked in the most condescending tone a human being has ever mustered.
A simple jab of her finger at an oozing cactus- the crimson ghoul narrowed his eyes at it, and then glared down at her.
"Are you serious?" he snarled. "Evelyn, those are poisonous."
Her ugly expression of displeasure quickly transformed into one of horror. "What?! Well, why didn't you say anything?!"
A menacing growl was her only answer. The ghoul couldn't even have the decency to take a fucking leak for a few minutes without her getting into something. He hadn't even shaken off the dribbles of piss from the tip of his dick when he heard her vocal complaints.
"I'm all out of antid-guh!" Before her panicked state of mind could rape his ears, he shoved a few fingers down her throat, meeting with the clench of her tongue and the putrid sound of her gag reflex.
To his surprise, she didn't puke.
Evelyn batted his slobbery hand away, the trails of saliva from his fingers slathered across her cheek. Tears smarted her eyes from the sudden intrusion. "What the fuck are you-?!"
Another dive inside, as deep as he was willing to go without the risk of her hot sick coating his hands. Another gut squelching sound of her throat constricting, and yet, she still kept her stomach contents. The ferryman pulled back out, blinking at his sticky, gooey palm.
"That's so rude!" she barked, literally frothing at the mouth as she stepped back a few paces.
"I do not understand," he said bluntly, as though he was commenting on the weather, and not the fact he just fucked her throat with his fist.
"I've had some practice, asshole!" she snapped, and before either could fully understand what it was that she just said, a scuffle of rocks drew their heads up.
"You guys alright?" A caravanner waved down from a small slope some yards away. "Heard a fuss."
"Oh, thank God." Evelyn wiped at her face, shaking the remnants from her fingerless gloves to the barren ground of hot sand and rocks. She started towards him with a friendly hand raised up in kind. "Y-yeah, hey! Do you by chance have any-"
Her voice rang on in that overly friendly mannerism she had with complete outsiders, and before Charon could grumble his complaints about her laxness with strangers, he realized the meaning behind her explanation, and looked back down at his large hand.
He really didn't care to know.
They ended up following the trader back to his brahmin and small campsite, where some sociable conversation was exchanged, and items were traded.
Evelyn tilted back a small bottle to her lips, and the ferryman couldn't help but stare at the way the muscles rolled along her trachea as she swallowed…he was still so perturbed at the information she had unwittingly shared.
The trader was openly ogling the tan line above the swell of her breasts; the tight-fitting tank top she wore was nearly translucent from her sweat, and as she finished her drink and wiped at her moist brow, the gesture slightly raised the fabric at her waist for a peek of some untouched, ivory skin.
Charon's deathly glower was palpable enough for the man to take notice of. The ghoul had his usual look to him that made most people quake in their boots; it was more than enough for this timid soul, as the caravanner quickly busied himself with the ropes of his cargo atop his livestock.
They parted ways and continued on; the ghoul kept his head turned at their backs, eyeing the man with a smoldering glare until they were a respectable distance apart. Evelyn was fiddling with the knobs of her Pip-Boy, singing alto chords to a song as she engrossed herself with her screen.
"Birds singing in the sycamore tree." A dial was clicked, and she scratched at the tip of her nose with her free hand. "Dream a little dream, of me."A vibrant hum belted the instrumentals, and she suddenly chewed her lower lip and proceeded to scratch her head. "Hey, Charon?"
The ghoul gave a stifled grunt, his indication that he was listening.
"…which way is east, again?"
A very loud, very annoyed sigh breathed out. A muscled arm raised and pointed to her right, and she returned a sheepish grin over her shoulder.
"Yeah, okay, thank you. Sheesh. You'd think I was asking you of one of the twelve Herculean feats."
Charon snorted. He only understood the reference due to the fact she had told him the story a few weeks ago. "You should know this by now, Evelyn…you've had some…practice."
The ticking of her Pip-Boy came to a halt. Her brows furrowed, and then her entire face grew a vibrant shade of red. The epiphany of her earlier statement sunk in, and she had a mortified expression on her face.
"Oh my God! I-I-!"
The ghoul stomped past her embarrassed squeaks and squeals, a smirk twitching at his lips, but not fully committing.