AN: Hi! This is my first ever Paladin Danse fic, but recently I have just been so obsessed with him and his story that I just had to write some smut about him, because duh. Who would I be if I didn't? I play Fallout 4 almost every day right now, but I'm not going to say I'm an expert at all, and I cannot guarantee there won't be any minor mistakes with some of the lore or characterization. I'm also not a war expert and I don't have any experience in any armed forces, etc. so please bear with me for that as well as I might be a bit rusty seeing as I hardly write anymore, something I really love doing. Either way, I hope this fic doesn't disappoint. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it!

In any case, thank you so much if you have decided to read this. Carry on good folks, and cheers!

To the Ends of the Earth
Part I: Face to Face

~. ~ o ~ .~

Nina was relieved Danse would no longer be leaving the Commonwealth, exiled now from the Brotherhood but not the Wasteland thanks to the mercy of Arthur Maxon.

Danse, who she would always look up to as not just her commanding officer, her Paladin but as her most cherished confidant, seemed to think he would be spending the rest of his days at that old listening post. Nina had other plans for him, the goal to convince him to come with her to Sanctuary quickly forming in her mind as she trudged her way with great reluctance back towards the Boston Airport.

He would be a lot safer in Sanctuary under her protection as the General of the Minutemen, much more than at Bravo where Maxon could get to him easier if the young Elder so dared.

Danse had urged her to go, to report back to the Brotherhood as Elder Maxon had commanded. If she took too long to return, it would only add to any suspicions, and Nina had to unfortunately agree, for she was sure Maxon had specifically sent her there to kill Danse on purpose, knew she would subsequently fail the mission.

But of course, she had never planned on ever succeeding.

There had been quiet rumors, whispers of questions pertaining to the exact nature of the relationship between the Paladin and the younger Knight he sponsored. Yes, Danse was the epitome of everything the Brotherhood stood for, which included an annoyingly consistent, self-preserving sense of professionalism and decorum, but that still did not stop the other inhabitants of the Prydwyn from idly wondering.

The vivacious Vault-Dweller with the mysterious background, a destiny and a penchant for trouble had been the hot topic of the Brotherhood since her arrival on board. However she supposed it was really just like raucous school children suffering from boredom, and that she couldn't really blame them. It had seemed anywhere she went anyway, that all eyes were on her, and despite popular belief, she really wasn't a fan of the attention.

"Danse, no, I-I can't in good faith leave you here alone, by yourself, I… I'm so worried, can't you see? I couldn't bear it if you did something stupid and I wasn't here to stop it!"

He had pulled her to him, held her tiny frame in his sturdy arms, sighing with his chin against her head. He stroked his fingers up and down her spine, tangling in the tail of her long hair. "Don't you trust me by now, soldier? I would never do that to you, let you find me here like that. How utterly selfish would that be?"

She had believed him, and yet leaving him had been so damn hard for her to do.

Then, as if things could not get any worse, as soon as she had got on board was chastised by Maxon, given the title of Paladin in Danse's place and then ordered by Kells to infiltrate and wipe out the Railroad.

Inside, she had refused. No way in hell was she going to completely murder a group of innocent individuals, some of whom she had grown to know and trust, but she had done her best at playing the part to save face and high-tailed it back to Danse's room.

There she remained procrastinating, borrowing some time until she felt she couldn't avoid her decision any longer. She had let two whole days go by without a peep from her, without the affirmation that she was going to go do as she was told.

She had sought out Maxon in his quarters and as she entered, he had stared her down indignantly, those heart-stopping steely blues staggering her with the force of a thousand knives. His demeanor remained statuesque as he sat there hard as stone, the only movement grey smoke billowing from his cigar.

"Paladin," he very sternly, finally greeted. "There better be an extremely good reason you haven't followed through with your orders yet." His gruff voice admonished her icily.

With her body lightly shaking, she had told the Elder she was unable to carry out such an atrocious, and unnecessary act. It was disgusting and cruel that they would want this done, that the genocide had to stop – that there had to be another way.

She had vouched to Elder Maxon her word, on her grave, that she would figure something out, come to some kind of armistice between them all in the Commonwealth. They all had one singular enemy, the Institute. Wouldn't it make so much more sense if somehow, they could all band together as one, put their best heads together and go in as a three-faction army? Yes, the Brotherhood, the Minutemen and the Railroad… that would be ideal in every way, wouldn't it?

Maxon had been absolutely furious, told her that it was naïve, and impossible, a little girl's fairy tale. She had reassured him that she knew this was no fairy tale, that it had never been a fairy tale. She was incredibly insulted, after everything she'd endured, all she had seen. Naïve or not, she had to try. She promised that if there truly was no other option, she would do as he asked.

At first, there was a light at the end of the tunnel and Maxon initially allowing her two weeks, but she just had to beg him to give her at least a month's time.

He had snarled at her with a great ferociousness, gripping her up by the collar of her jacket and pinning her into the wall. Her boots dangled beneath him, but she was frozen in place as the warmth of his body connected with hers, his knee pushing hers apart.

He was so close to her, his penetrating eyes raging with fury, his hot breath steaming over her collarbone. Nina gazed down at him, stunned to her core. Elder Maxon losing his cool exterior and putting his hands on her was not a likely scenario she had played out in her head. "You ask for far, far too much," one of his hands squeezed her hip and she hissed, squirming beneath him from the pinch of pain.

"You're… hurting me." Nina was gasping, it was like she couldn't breathe. He ignored her plea, roughly raking his hand up her side, crudely along the roundness of her breast.

"What do we get in return for such a sacrifice? What do I get? You're threatening to upend us and everything we stand for!"

No, please don't do this. The tears welled up in her eyes, blinding her sight in the white fluorescent lighting.

"You'll save lives, s-so many lives, the lives of your own brothers and sisters. Shouldn't that be enough?" She struggled with the words, his nose burrowing into the crook of her neck and he inhaled her, took in her smell deeply. Nina quivered from the sensations, unable to fathom that somewhere far down inside her she almost kind of liked this. But it was wrong, all wrong. The wrong setting, intentions, the wrong man who was doing this to her.

"I think you need a new lesson in learning where you stand in the Brotherhood,"

Nina felt the bile rise in her throat, thought she was going to suffocate but her anger pushed her through, giving her courage. "Don't you dare treat me like this, like I'm garbage, as if I'm just another one of your lapdog underlings. I've already done just as much as any other knight or paladin should, countless things for you and your Brotherhood… and on top of everything, you wouldn't have gotten this far, this close to the Institute if it weren't for me and you know it. Please, Arthur," she used his first name softly. "Just one last favor for -" He slammed a fist into the cabin wall beside her head with a great thwack.

Then he took that fist and unfurled his fingers upon her cheek, her jaw where he not so gently held her neck beneath her ear. His nose brushed against hers and she was so afraid, so afraid he was going to kiss her. "What makes you so goddamn special, Nina Wilson?"

"No-Nothing," she spat quickly, and then she felt crestfallen. Nobody was special, but boy did the Wasteland sometimes feel like it revolved around her. "I don't know."

His wet, whiskey-trodden mouth collided with hers and Nina almost squealed, repulsed for allowing herself to open to him and be devoured. He bit and ate at her lips like a vicious animal, suckling on them and slipping his tongue around hers.

His hips ground onto hers, his stiff arousal evident underneath his thick pants. God, she hadn't been with someone in so long, over two-hundred years actually, and she absolutely loathed the way her body was reacting to Maxon's coarse but all-too satisfying ministrations.

Finally he released her kiss, taking a long-lasting, burning look in her eyes before letting her boots drop back to the floor. He turned away from her coldly, posture upright and expression detached, as if what he'd just done hadn't happened whatsoever. "You get three weeks, Paladin. Now get out of my sight."

Shook to her core, Nina pulled herself together and nodded solemnly. "Yes, Elder." She bolted for the door and before she shut it behind her, without looking back, "Th-Thank you."

~. ~ o ~ .~

If Danse had anything now, it was time. So much goddamn time on his hands indefinitely and he hated it.

A small portion of his hours were spent sulking, subtly weeping to himself, and thinking, thinking, thinking. When the thinking got to be too much, and it always was, he toyed and tinkered with various things around the listening post, attempting to make it somewhat livable.

He went to work repairing the turrets, but with a lack of spare parts he was coming up short. It wasn't long before he ran out of real sustenance and headed out into the wastes, winning himself some gamey radstag. He'd even shaved his beard for the first time in a while, cleaned and groomed himself to occupy some more of the empty, empty spaces.

As those hours wore on painfully, slowly, his only true solace were wistful, yearning thoughts of Nina and his eagerness for her return.

It had been a long and winding road. They hadn't always gotten along, and they certainly didn't always agree, but he could not deny it… there had been a constant attraction between them since the moment they met in Cambridge.

Those hazel-blue eyes of hers had instantly pulled him in, and those long blonde waves, the way the strawberry hues sparkled in the dry heat of the high noon sun. She had caused him to feel breathless so many times. She'd had his attention then, but especially now.

He would be dead without her, and fractions of him of course, felt it would just be better if he was, that he would definitely feel better if it was just all over… yet she still wanted to be there routing for him, the one person in his world that could make him want to keep trying.

In his thirty-one years, his relationships, if one could call them that, were few and far in between. One less than a handful of unlucky ladies, none of which incredibly notable, or memorable; just passing flights of fancy, momentary lapses in judgement since his first fling at fifteen.

Truth be told, he hadn't been with a woman in many years. He was not consciously keeping track, but he was pretty sure his last 'mistake' had been made when he was around twenty-six. And damn, was all of that built-up tension and multiple years of deprivation suddenly catching up with him.

Danse could admit he had overly high standards, not just in dating and women but in everything, including himself. He was vastly picky when it came to looks and personalities, and he hated to admit that he probably expected too much out of people in general. Was it that hard to see things the way he did, to care the way he did? Or had he cared too much? Was it possible there were things he didn't care about enough?

Yet still, it didn't even matter to him now, his past, his mistakes, because all signs pointed directly to her. If none of those events had transpired, if their lives had not intertwined like this precisely… he was just so glad he knew her, so thankful she was a part of his life, his dear friend. His choices had led him to her, and hers to him.

She had made him so proud, but he had made her so sad and angry in their journeys. All he wanted to do from then on was make it all up to her. Whatever that exactly meant, he didn't care anymore. He would practically do anything she needed, anything she wanted of him.

If she would have him, he longed to surrender; to finally indulge and forget himself for once in this painstakingly harrowing existence, one he wasn't even sure was real from the start.

~. ~ o ~ .~

"Danse?" she had finally appeared on the third day in the late afternoon, out from the elevator. He stopped what he was doing and smiled a cheeky little smile as she dropped all her things, running straight back into his embrace.

Nina hadn't right away noticed that not for the first time, he was donning his simple white tank, tucked into his orange jumpsuit. As she flung her arms around his lithe middle, her face met with his strong chest, tufts of the black fur there wisping against her cheek. She flushed bright pink, savoring what she could of his manly, sweaty musk before she reluctantly unwound herself out of his bare, corded arms.

"We've got to get you out of that rigout, effective immediately," she told him, matter of fact and Danse quirked a brow at her. "If you're wearing that anywhere out in the open, you'll be a walking target, we'll be walking targets."

Well, she certainly does have a point, he thought. Honestly, having to give up his power armor had been traumatizing enough, but his jumpsuit too? He should have allowed himself to acknowledge the day would come, he just wished it didn't have to be so soon.

"Luckily, I was able to sneak out with almost all of your things. Plenty of your spare clothes, some food,"

Danse had only just realized he hadn't yet said a word to her, clearing his throat somewhat sheepishly, "That's… incredibly kind of you," he offered as she handed him a duffle bag stuffed full. "Really, Nina, I can't thank you enough." He really was glad for this, especially since the socks he currently wore were on their last leg, no pun intended.

"It was the least I could do…" she said, and he almost rolled his eyes. She'd already done so much for him.

Now she seemed hesitant, cautious. A not so good thought preying on her mind maybe?

He swung the duffle onto one of the old desks and took both of her hands in his. "What's the matter?"

He always knew when something was wrong, and really, since when hadn't everything been wrong, just so, so wrong? But Nina was shaking, worried that once again, her reckless choices and insubordination would anger or upset him. "Danse, they… it was like a slap in the face. Maxon, he-he gave me your room, made me Paladin in your place. It just isn't right, I'm still sick over it,"

Nina felt stupid sick over more than just that though, that was for damn sure.

He was sweeping his hands comfortingly up and down her arms, her shoulders. "This is a cause for celebration, not distress. I am happy for you. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot in the beginning as we've discussed but, but deep down I really always knew you would take my place someday. Not that we could have predicted it'd go quite like this…" he trailed off.

"It was just so cold, and Maxon he -"

"You should be grateful to Elder Maxon, Nina,"

"Grateful?" Nina pulled out of his grasp, the trauma of yesterday evening's events flaring within her soul. "Grateful?" she repeated, almost growling. "It's a little bit difficult to be grateful of the man who nearly had me murder my, my," she briefly faltered on her definition of Danse, trying to play it as cool as a cucumber. "My commanding officer, my most dearest of comrades," Danse stood a little taller at her affectionate wording, however, at this point he hoped he was more than merely a comrade to her. "And then on top of that, as if it weren't enough already, order me to condemn an entire faction to death by my own hands," then under her breath to herself. "If I even would have made it out alive…" Then back to Danse. "Did you know about that? Did you know that it was an eventual part of the plan?"

Danse had caught on right away to which faction she was referring to. He nodded, "I did."

"Argh!" she groaned, turning on her heel and taking an angry couple of laps around the room, fists balled at her sides. Of course he did, she had known the answer already, but that did not make any of it less aggravating.

"So…" Danse began after a pause. "You're not going to do it." It was not a question. He knew her too well now. How could he ever even have originally considered that she would acquiesce to comply with such a request?

Nina shook her head cynically, angry tears welling at her eyes. She got all worked up over it again, especially now that he was here right in front of her. "No, Danse. I'm not."

He felt frightened to ask her a new question, his little rebel. "And what did Maxon say of your refusal? I take it that conversation did not go well."

"Hmph." She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Not well indeed. However, I've convinced him to -" she swallowed hard, swallowed away her guilt. "To give me some time. If I can round up Garvey and the Minutemen, produce some sort of strategy, maybe speak to Deacon… I just know something is possible, Danse, a way to end the Institute for good, but with all of us fighting them together, as one giant army."

He sighed deeply, running his fingers through is thick sheath of hair, down his tired face. Her plan was extremely, detrimentally unlikely, but he did not want to tell her that now and burst her bubble… if there was anyone in this godforsaken Commonwealth who had a real chance to bring about some semblance of peace, or at least a mutual respect over the common ground between the warring factions, it was Nina Wilson. He could honestly not believe Maxon was allowing her this grace period, but if he were, then so be it.

Without another word, Danse went and retrieved a bottle of bourbon from a small, hidden stash he'd found and gathered up two dusty coffee mugs. He handed her the bottle, "Open it," and began dusting off the mugs with a clean cloth.

"We're drinking?"

"We're drinking."

"You've never drank in front of me before, Danse," Nina mused as she cranked off the lid of the bottle. She had caught the scent of liquor from his breath on occasion, only when they ever had time to spare on the Prydwyn or at Sanctuary but never had she witnessed the deed itself.

"There's a first time for everything."

"Well, it seems you're being awfully optimistic," she snarked sarcastically.

He only smirked as he poured them each a cup, handing her one and clonking his against hers in a toast. "Here's to you."

"To me? What for?"

"What for? What isn't there, Nina, that you haven't done? A selfless soul, you're… you're the bravest person I've ever met."

Nina snorted, placing her hand over her heart with dramatic flair. "Jesus, Danse, you're choking me up over here." He chuckled warmly and the sound was positively delightful to her ears. "Then here's to you too, for training me, teaching me how to be a fighter, a better shooter; for everything you taught me about guns and power armor. I have counted on you time and again, and you have met me every step of the way. Even when we butt heads, you stick by me, you believe in me… it's been more than I could have asked for."

A pause where his velvet brown eyes melted in time with hers, a lightness on his face she had never seen, before he said, "To us."

"To us."

They drank from their cups in mystified contentedness before Danse took the duffle in the side room to change. He reemerged moments later in a fresh, white tee and deep camo green tactical pants. His boots were off, so she followed his idea and freed herself from her own.

Why did he have to be so fucking hot? Nina inwardly whined as she eyed him up and down. He leaned on one of the desks, giving her a sort of appraising look up and down, a beckoning gleam in his stare as he drank from his mug. She pulled in a gulp of bourbon from her own, slinking her way over to settle on top of the desk beside his, her calves dangling in a child-like manner.

Several minutes passed in which they sat in near silence, steadily slurping their beverages before refilling them until they had lost count of just how many they'd downed.

"I, uh, really like it when you shave… the stubble is-is nice." Nina admitted, liquid courage running wildly through her veins.

"Are you trying to say you hate my beard?" He jested.

"No, I love your beard!" Nina almost smacked herself over the forehead and Danse snickered. "I mean, I was only saying, I… shit, never mind."

"No, please, say what you were going to say." He was having far too much fun at her expense. It was like he knew just what he did to her.

Nina really didn't want to tell him how he had the most perfect jawline, how it looked sharp enough to cut… wondered that if he happened to scrape it along her skin would it rip her right open, and that she desperately wanted to test the theory? How could she tell him that?

She was feeling hot, so hot she jerked her jacket off and tossed it aside, leaving her in only her black tank top. Nina felt him watching her, saw his glossy eyes regard the sight of her bare skin, a discreet bite of his lip.

"Hey, you know Danse… you've still never given me your first name. I've wanted to know for a long time." They had known each other for seven months now and he never told her. That was pretty ridiculous if you ask her.

"Don't change the subject."

"You're avoiding the question." She had asked him twice before, but he had swept her query right under the rug for later both times and she had not pressed him for it again until right now.

He chuckled again, his warm and hardy chuckle that she would never get tired of hearing and Nina beamed. "Why do you want to know my name?"

Because I want to moan it as your fucking me into oblivion.

"Because, why do you have to keep it such a secret? I… really only want to know so bad because you've been so mysterious about it."

She had him there.

"I only like to tease you," he confessed, and Nina further flushed, bashfully sipping from her cup to distract her from the ebbing warmth in her naval. "I don't tell a lot of people, but it's not like it's this huge secret or anything. Nobody ever really asks, nobody but you. So, it's… it's Derek."

Nina's mouth dropped open, and Derek Danse watched as her plush lower lip was then worried between her teeth. "Derek, huh? I-I like it,"

He grinned, scratching his chin. "Thanks, I guess,"

"I'm glad you told me. I feel like I finally truly know you," she said jokingly. He cast her a most serious, and electric gaze.

"Really? I beg to differ," he drawled, emboldened.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he set his cup down and slowly swaggered until he was right in front of her; his thighs brushing her knees, his fingers grazing below her hip, "There's… so much more you've been missing out on."

"Is that so?" She managed meekly, her breath suddenly ripped away from her as a large hand foxily, gingerly swept across her collarbone, the small strap of her top falling haphazardly down her naked shoulder. Wave after wave of wanton tingles overwhelmed her and she trembled under his so-good, calloused touch.

She had been waiting patiently for this moment, perhaps even since the day she had first laid eyes on him. Back then, the memory of her husband Nate was still fresh and at the forefront of her mind, but now… she had been unhappy long enough. Her late beloved would want her to find comfort, to feel loved again.

"How can anyone's skin be this soft?" Danse muttered in wonder to himself, glazing his knuckles across her cheek, a thumb over her lips.

Nina opened her legs to him, his hips falling forward and fitting snug against her. Her knee bent around him, pressing him as close to her as she possibly could. One of her arms instinctively came to wrap around his middle, approvingly caressing the muscles of his back while the other snaked up his chest and grasped at the thin material of his t-shirt.

Magnets that could no longer be kept apart, their mouths connected; two perfect puzzle pieces. She keened quietly as she heard, and felt his breathing escalate. He moved his mouth against hers tenderly, steadily, a hand coming up to wrap his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck.

Tongues melded together and entwined, more fingers curling onto the fallen strap along her arm, reeling her in ever closer. The mellow baritone of his moan vibrated her entire being, her soul ablaze. The sweet cushion of his lips against hers had her weak, and if she hadn't been sitting, had not been a captive to his hands, Nina's knees would have buckled.

This was so much better than anyone else, so much better than she could have hoped. He kissed her fixedly, thoroughly in a deliciously unhurried frenzy, making sure to taste and savor every trace of her mouth.

His long thumb swept tantalizingly atop the pillowy slope of her breast, another guttural moan escaping him as he further slid the pad of it indulgently against the pebbled nipple beneath her top. Nina gasped from the friction, her thighs quivering against the smoldering oceans of desire swelling deep below.

Derek detached his mouth from hers, mahogany brown eyes glinting with dark intent. His jaw clenched, teeth bared carnally, he lasciviously pulled her top down and seized her breast, cupping it in his large hand. "Fuck," he whispered, drinking in this moment, how she looked, everything about this.

Nina swooned, feeling like a puddle, ready for the droplets of her body to shatter and fall, to wash away at any second under his touch. She had never heard him curse like that. Danse had his fair share of 'goddammit's' and 'son of a bitch's', but never had she heard him utter the f-word – and it was because he was looking at her, kissing and touching her.

She let out a cat-like mewl of surprise as his wettened mouth found her protruding, pink pebble, her fingers twisting into his thick black mane. He swirled his tongue around her, lazily sucking and nibbling her flesh, taking immense pride in the small breathless sounds he was bringing out of her.

When he felt one breast had too much attention, he focused the same amount of generosity on the other, her top crumpling at the waist. His free hand splayed over her back, her long blonde locks tickling his skin and Danse had to fight the burgeoning urge to turn her around on her stomach and take her right there on that desk.

Nina brushed her small hands along his neck, over the stubble of his jaw, relishing in the tough, scratchy feel of it beneath her fingertips. She could not believe she was this lucky. He released her tits from his clutches, dazedly capturing her lips in his kiss.

She found her limbs moving of their own accord, her fingers swiping into the band of his camouflage slacks, undoing the button and ripping his tucked shirt out from under it. Her cold hands found the warmth of his skin beneath, the hardened ridges of his abdomen. She toyed with the soft fuzz that trailed from his chest to his belly button, descending far below where she undid the zipper keeping her from her prize.

He paused his kissing, a rising question in his eyes. "You -"

"Yes," she interrupted him, pushing him aside momentarily as she leapt from the desk and began undressing. She flung her black tank away to nowhere, pulled down her thick, but tight leather trousers and stepped out of them. She was completely naked not including her crew socks, having opted for this particular day to be a 'hair down and no underwear' kind of day.

Derek couldn't help but simply stare with conviction, astounded by her unmatched beauty, captivated by the comely sight of her buxom curves; her glowing honey tendrils that dared cover too much of her as they cascaded down around her hips.

"Well, come on, big guy. Don't leave me hanging here," she sweetly smiled, her fluttery lashes begging him to do the same and hither closer.

His tee now abandoned, Nina appreciated the scrumptious view as Derek allowed his pants to fall away, revealing a very long, solid as steel rod straining tightly against the fabric of his boxer briefs. Nina's body shook with tremulous greed and fascination as he then pulled them off too, his fully stiff prick bobbing in her direction.

Big guy indeed, she thought, her own trembling hands fidgeting in front of her, over her belly and with her hair. Anything to keep herself from reaching out and grabbing him before the moment was right.

And then he was right there before her, but it was almost like he was too afraid to touch her again, so she pressed her hands to his stomach. His skin was on fire, and so was she. Nina searched his loving eyes for any resistance before she ever so delicately spread her fingers around his velvety cock and gently squeezed.

He hissed out in pleasure, grunting as his head lolled backwards. She began smoothing down and up his shaft in achingly slow movements and he grabbed her hand, stopping her and pressing it harder around him as his torso quaked with satisfaction.

Danse exhaled in a low whistle, his breathing ragged and short. He leaned to kiss her on the mouth, his calloused fingers finally feasting over the expanse of her flesh; up her shoulders to her lower back, down where he dug them into the unbelievably round softness of her ass.

The nearness of his fingers to her sopping wet entrance beneath caused her to cry out, "Mm yes, please,"

He understood what she was begging for, and maneuvered a hand between them, grazing over the small patch of curls between her thighs and entirely cupping her excessively dripping, womanly mound in his palm. He made a fierce, barbarous noise like he was infuriated with her and pulled her close to him by the hand that had now claimed her. "Good god, Wilson," he growled, feeling himself going feral.

He removed his slickened hand and gripped her by the hips, lifting her from the ground with almost whiplashing ease. She was so much lighter and tinier than him, if he wanted to, he could use her like exercise equipment.

Derek pressed their stomachs flush together to drive his throbbing cock through the sea of wetness between her legs. The length of him pushed out the other side of her, his tip sliding juicily against the underside of her cheeks which he had grabbed tightly and began to ground her slickness back and forth on top of him.

"Oooo god yeah," she almost sobbed, heady, needing, needing him to be inside her.

"You are so," he began, grunting between a sharp intake of breath. "Fucking gorgeous."

He was hooking one of his arms under her thigh, positioning her just a bit higher over his hip, her tits bouncing in his face before lowering her onto his hefty arousal. It plunged inch by inch into her dripping tightness and Nina's eyes rolled back with her head.

"Oh my god, Nina," he seethed through his teeth, idolization overwhelming his voice, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. He pushed the rest of his prick in, so far inside to the hilt of her very depths, roughly pinning her hips against his. He rocked into her before pulling out slowly, then rocking back in, her juices already milking him up nice and good as he did it again.

He thrusted inside her over and over, slamming her little frame on top of him in a slow but gradual pace that had Nina's head spinning. He was groaning and grunting appreciatively in the crook of neck, and she couldn't help her responses in yelping cries of delight.

Paladin Derek Danse was fucking her right there where he stood, face to face. His arm remained hooked under her leg, his other hand gripping her by the ass, and it was without a doubt one of the hottest moments of her life, if not the hottest.

He was afraid; he did not want to go too fast, or he was going to come undone too quickly. It had been so damn long, holding himself back was with the utmost difficulty – and despite his normally disciplined nature, he sped up anyway. She just felt so deliciously tight and soaking wet, clenching perfectly around his all-too sensitive rock-hard cock that containing himself was just about out of the question.

"Oh Derek, oh my god Derek, yes… yes!" she wailed in approval, and he whimpered softly as he fought against the static waves of white-hot pleasure wracking his body – but it was futile.

With a great, heaving grunt, he ruthlessly plunged as deep into her as he could possibly get, sucking his lower lip between his teeth as he gushed and ground within her the largest stream of seed he may have ever had on record. "Damnit!" he raged breathlessly, peering into her gaze to see if she was upset. However all he found there was adoration. "I'm sorry, it's… it's just been such a long time."

"Baby," she cooed, eyes heavy-lidded. "That was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He shook his head, unable to come to grips with how she was right here like this, saying these wonderful things to him in his arms. "I promise, it won't be the last," his lips found hers, his heart pounding out of his chest. "I'm going to take good care of you, just you wait and see."

~. ~ o ~ .~

AN: If you got this far, thank you so damn much! Did you like, or hate the name Derek? It took me a really long time to choose a first name for Danse. I thought about the name Paul for a while. I saw the name Logan in another fic I read about Danse, and I almost used it but I didn't want to be a copycat. I seriously considered the name Wolfgang, but I concluded that it would be way too silly. I settled on Derek after also thinking about Dylan. Are you glad I picked Derek, or which of those names would you have liked better? I could always remember that and use it for a different fic!

There will definitely be a Part II but as for a III, that is still up in the air until I see where a second chapter takes me. I hope this little slice of smut found you well, that you have a great weekend and a Happy Halloween! Thanks again.