"Charon?"

They're on the couch together, cold toes tucked beneath his thigh, almost back to normal. Eva's fiddling with her pip-boy, looking through routes she's charted and adjusting them according to what she found when she got there. She's been at it for hours.

He's sorting bullets again, shifting through the box they keep by the door for any unidentified excess from their scavenging. Most of them are useless, the type they have no guns for, and will be sold the next time they go down to the market but there's a substantial pile of shot gun shells and energy cells so he's satisfied. More than anything, it's something to do with his hands, something to look at instead of the hickey that still hasn't faded from Eva's neck.

He remembers making it, the extra bite startled out of him by blunt nails raking down his back.

She doesn't seem to mind it, has done nothing to cover it so he's trying to do the same. Now he's sorting through a box that's gone untouched for months, focusing on tarnished metal and trying not to picture giving her a matching set.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up, just dumps another handful of bullets in the 'keep' pile.

"Do you have a birthday?"

That's a new one. He can't help looking up at her for that, raising a barely existent brow to show his feelings for the question.

"No, I just materialized one day. Sugar and spice and radiation, you know the story."

Eva snorts, kicking his leg playfully.

"So, I crawled out from under a rock and you're what? Magic?" She's leaning towards him, still pale enough to support her claim and grinning.

"No. I'm a dream come true." He deadpans but Eva still laughs, shifting from her place in the corner of the couch to sit closer, hands on her knees and entirely too focused.

"Okay, but really. Do you have one?" She's close and he's uncomfortable, wondering when her proximity will stop affecting him. First, he doesn't want her near him, now he wants her even closer. He shrugs it off, pushing the box away along with the unwanted desire.

"Not one I can remember. Do you?" They've been together for maybe thirteen months, long enough that she undoubtedly had one but it's the first he's hearing of it.

"Yeah, about seven months ago." She shrugs, waving it away with a flippant hand and turns so she can lean her back against his side. Her face is hidden when she speaks but she sounds wistful.

"So, do you want to make one up? We could have a party." Eva waves a hand in the air, gesturing at some imaginary streamers.

"Mister Handy could decorate and I could get us some of the weird nukas and we could eat snack cakes." She twists back to grin at him. "Make it special?"

Charon chuckles dryly, "You ate snack cakes this morning."

She shrugs, "Yeah but they'd probably taste better with a candle. That's the rule, right?"

This is getting ridiculous. It's pointless and silly and so caring it hurts. She doesn't want him but still she insists on making it harder and harder to stop himself from moving, just a little, just enough to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. He could kiss her for every thoughtful thing she's done for him, every kindness no one ever thought to point his way. Eva's so close already, was so eager the last time, matching the frenzied passion in every kiss. Just the thought of it makes him ache. It was clear what she wanted and he was so, so ready to give it to her.

She does want him, she even said as much, but she won't let herself give in. He had her legs wrapped around him and her taste on his tongue less than a week ago but she still said no in the end. So as badly as he wants to pull her close, explore slowly what he'd so desperately devoured before, he just steels himself and responds.

"No, I don't want a birthday. Sounds like too much work for someone without an expiration date."

Picking some arbitrary date would be pointless and if they do make it a tradition, it will just turn into an unpleasant reminder of happier times once Eva dies. He knows Eva was a stroke of luck as surely as he knows the next employer will be nothing like her.

Waiting patiently for his next thoughtless order will be a thousand times worse if he can look at the date and remember what it used to be like, how much better off he used to be.

There would be nothing quite so disheartening, so pathetic as thinking to himself "Today's my birthday," as he feels his body responding to someone else's will.

Eva's sighs at his response but doesn't push. She could easily see the real reason he wouldn't want a set date and it's a sobering thought, imagining the unnamed stranger that will inevitably take her place. Instead he turns slightly towards her, feels her leaning weight shift from his arm to his chest. She stiffens slightly and he's relived at her response, glad it's not just him effected by the sudden intimacy of the position. He clears his throat, tries not to sound like he's losing control.

"Do you want a birthday?" He traces a feather light touch over her shoulder, knowing he's skirting the lines of what they can and can't do and having trouble caring. "Did you do anything for it?" Eva's settled into the position, though she shivers as he strokes her. "Do you wish you had?"

When she answers, she's just a little breathless and if that doesn't wreck him, nearly tearing his last scrap of control to shreds. If he could just replace those fingers with his tongue, lick the skin he's barely touched, ignite the fire he'd just gotten a taste of before, maybe her control would start slipping too.

"I…um…" His hand has dipped from her shoulder to stroke her arm, tracing the harsh lines of her scars like braille. "No, I didn't do anything. You really didn't like me at that point and there's not much to do alone." She sounds sad but reassurance would come across as something entirely different right now. He does it anyway.

"I like you now." The undercurrent in his voice is obvious, that extra depth from restrained lust that twists his already harsh voice into something nearly physical. His hand is at her elbow, gently stroking a particularly rough scar, and he lets it fall those last few inches to her hip, her thigh.

Eva's head falls back to his chest, going limp as he starts to massage her upper thigh, kneading tight muscles as an excuse to touch her. Even through the fabric of her pants, he can feel the heat of her skin, knows what is most likely the hottest point. She moans when he lets his hand explore her further, slowly working his way to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. At this point he's aching, all need for restraint forgotten, just lost in the extra give of her skin, how delicate it feels, vulnerable and she trusts him enough to get this close, surely…

His hand moves on its own, working and kneading towards what he's certain she wants him to touch, the lust boiling in his gut shifting to something that's almost hunger.

Eva gasps as his touch advances, for a moment as lost as he is, body going stiff in anticipation. The pads of his fingers just graze the subtle raise of her (and oh if he thought her thigh was soft) when she jerks away, twisting and scooting back until she's tucked firmly in the corner of the couch, the furthest spot from him.

Now that he can see her face, it's clear how much he'd been affecting her. She's flushed, blotchy red blooming across her cheeks and chest and nearly panting. If she hadn't also looked upset, he'd have followed her, pressed her into the couch and discovered just how and what she likes his hands to be doing.

But she's not happy, not overwhelmed with need, just flustered and looking the guiltiest he's ever seen her.

"Charon, I didn't…You didn't, that wasn't…" She's stuttering and he leans forward, the need to address her obvious arousal nearly primal in nature. Even through the guilt he can see it, her dilated pupils and the flush along her chest make it clear as day.

"No, you didn't." She made no orders, he's not compelled by anything but a rapidly growing urgency for her pushing him forward.

"But you can."

He must look like he wants to eat her, feels like it. He's practically growling.

She's shaking her head but already leaning towards him.

"I don't want to do anything you don't want me to do." Eva's words come out rushed, shaky on an unsteady exhale.

Charon nods. This is a rule that she won't let herself break. He knows how immoral her touching him would make her feel, knows she's correct when she says it's sick but he's going mad. It's clear that this is his own desire, if he could just show her, convince her…

"Think of it as your birthday present."

"What?" For a moment, she's startled out of her guilt, pulling back slightly and watching him like it's a trick question. Charon takes the opportunity to get closer, standing and stepping near so he can kneel by her side of the couch.

"It's just a gift. Birthdays, remember?" His smile is conspiratorial. There's no way she doesn't know it's an excuse but maybe it's enough of one to let her indulge, give in to this sudden heat that's built up between the two of them. When she finally nods, pupils so blown out her eyes are almost black, it's a struggle not to pounce.

By present he could have meant anything, touching her, eating her out, fucking her until she can barely move but she's only just handling his hands on her and he's not certain how well he'd hold out either. Just stroking her thigh leaves him hard and aching, he isn't sure how much more he can take.

Slowly, he leans in and presses a light kiss to her jawline. It's gentle enough to be nearly innocent until he nuzzles into her neck, nipping at the skin just behind her ear and earning a shudder that says more about the mood of the moment then anything he's done so far.

Eva's hands have made their way to his shoulders and he can feel her nails dig in as he finds his way to her pulse point. The vein is painfully visible under her sickly skin, so dark he feels as if he would puncture it if he bit just a little too hard, but he can feel her heart racing under his lips so it's worth the extra restraint. The thrumming pulse races when he flicks his tongue out, tastes the flavor he's been craving since that night on the stairs. Charon wants more, wants to lave at her skin and suck until it's marked.

Another bit of proof of this new something between them.

When he breaks away, the sheen of his saliva on her flesh hits hard enough to make his head spin. He's dipping in for another taste when Eva catches his jaw, tilting his head up until they're eye to eye.

"Do you…?" An unspoken question. Another chance to stop what's happening.

"Yes. Fuck yes." He gasps it, too eager, too excited but the force of her kiss shows he's not alone in his urgency.

He melts into her, still kneeling on the hard wood floor but too blissful to care. Her kiss is tongue and teeth and nearly violent. There's too much desire behind it, too much to get out with one excuse, one moment of weakness. Charon understands. Every fantasy since that night is rushing to the surface, impulses demanding to be followed. His hands are fisted in her hair, tight, crushing her closer and then they're on her hips, her waist, dipping perilously close to spots he's certain are too much, too far, trying to fulfill every want at once.

When she breaks the kiss, he's torn in ten different directions, the urges to taste every part of her battling for supremacy. The confliction only vanishes when Eva follows her own impulse, pressing quick soft kisses to his jaw, his neck, dropping to his collar bone and then catching his hand to press her lips to the inside of his wrist. Charon shivers, gives up any last restraint and climbs over her, needing more contact, more of her against him. Eva twists with him, sliding down to lay flat on the couch and he follows, grinding against her with nothing but the basest impulse, desperate to appease some of the throbbing need driving him out of his mind.

This loss of control is terrifying. Nothing in his life has held him so captive with desire. No decision of his own has had this much sway over him, driven him to want something so badly he's losing himself. Nothing but Eva, dark hair curled up and around her, staring up at him, her face a mirror of his own need.

"Isn't this a bit much for a birthday?" She's panting and grinning, spacing out the question between kisses. She arches into him, pressing breasts he still hasn't touched against his chest and he responds by thrusting roughly against her, hating the thin barriers stopping him from just pushing into her, being in her, with her.

"Interest." Charon growls it, teeth bared because he's suffering, the pain of his erection straining against too constrictive fabric only matched by how damn good it feels to finally get this close to her again.

Eva laughs, breathless and overwhelmed but genuine.

It's a short-term solution. An excuse she'll only be able to cling to for so long before it falls apart but for now, it's enough. Eva moans into his mouth and it's enough, it has to be enough. Eventually something needs to quench this thirst, ease the longing because he can't keep this up, can't not have her when he wants her so badly. Not when she wants him too.

He tries to memorize every inch of her, every sensation before it ends. Her scent and her skin and please let this just be lust because he doesn't think he can handle it if it's something more.
But it ends.

Eva breaks away. The excuse is ruined, broken a thousand times over between them. Charon watches her leave on weak legs, wanting nothing more than to pull her back.