Warning! Naughty bits ahead!
She's always on the edge of his thoughts.
Herman's questions—all of them—are unending in their desperation and number; at his desk, on patrol, at dinner (when she isn't sitting across the table from him, her socked toes brushing up and down his shin). He feels stupid and sluggish for not knowing what this girl is doing, for not understanding why he isn't standing up for himself and his marriage.
Nothing has happened, of course. No. Kate merely makes eyes at him when no one is looking, touches him chastely beneath tables and in passing glances. She is toying with him and that's what he hates the most. Because it's working.
Herman hates her deeply, for she knows that he is married, knows that he loves Pepper and his son with all his heart. She knows that Freddie is mad for her; Kate can see it as well as anyone on the outside can, no matter how much she deflects his weak advances.
Yet she persists with Herman; Kate is always there when his thoughts drift to her—in the diner, around the corner, passing by the Security office with Amata, that darkly lupine look in her eyes all the while.
Herman wonders why, why this good girl suddenly found an interest in him; a married and very much older man. He is her father's age, God damn it, and that only serves to spur her on more.
He wants to burn the images of Kate from his head, the ones he has conjured for himself in darker moments. He wants to only see Pepper in his mind—like he used to not so many years ago.
Now Pepper fades to grey even when beneath him at night, her breath in his ear and her body seething and pliant around him.
Herman began to think about Kate in those times, about how much stamina resides in those young muscles, of how she seems poured into her vault suit instead of stuffed in, of how her smile is real and huge and happy…
He has followed her tonight, waiting until she left Freddie and Amata at the diner before falling in behind her through the winding vault halls—he began taking the night patrols in a desperate attempt to avoid her ever-watching eyes during the day. It doesn't work for long; Pepper blabs about his change in shift over Kate's 18th birthday dinner at the Doc's apartment.
Herman remembers Kate's expression so clearly: the look in her eyes was so amused and heated and… predatory. They are the eyes he sees at night, when his wife is shivering beneath him.
He momentarily loses sight of Kate when she takes an unexpected turn towards the stairs leading down to the… is she going towards the Storage Room?
There is a brief moment, as he is ducking under the door and punching in the lock-code, that he wonders what he is planning to do with her.
To finally take her like she has been leading him to do? He wants to, desperately, to finally get the dirt and grime of her from his mind.
To confront her? He should, he wants that too, because he is tired. So tired of being confused and disgusted by the girl, by himself; of wondering what she wants from him and what will happen if he gives it to her.
To… Hurt her? He hates it, but yes, he wants that as well. She has hurt him, too deeply to say, and she will hurt Freddie. His son.
Herman's hands shake as he squints in the darkness, his skin seeming to ripple over his strained muscles from anxiety and fear and anger—he is too on edge, has been ever since the dinner she…—
…can't hear her footsteps any longer.
"Officer Gomez?"
Herman nearly yelps from fright, spinning on his heel with his hand instinctually going to his nightstick. He cannot see, not at first, for the voice came from the back of the storage room.
It's her, he knew, of course. Her voice is distinct in its natural projection, in the rasp that makes his toes curl, in the constant underlying taunt in her tone.
He could just strangle her, throttle her, make her scream… He wants her, all of her at once because it's dark and hot in this damn storage room and he can see the challenge in her eyes from here, even as he stumbles clumsily on his way over to her.
"What brings you down here?" She asks casually, lowering what looks like… A gun? "Another change in shift?"
"I…" He's a few paces in front of Kate, her face becoming clearer now that he's closer to her pip-boy light. It's hot, too hot for his uniform, and he can see that her cheeks are delightfully pink and her sweaty hair is pulled back into a ponytail. "You're…"
"Oh, don't mind me." She sighs, turning from him dismissively with an air of what feels like haughty disappointment. She sets the gun—most likely a toy, from the sound of its light weight—on an empty crate, keeping her back to him as she strokes her fingers along the barrel. "I go down here all the time. I even kill a few radroaches every once and a while; keeps the vault safer in my opinion."
He frowns at her back before looking about the room, his mind too muddled to immediately find the targets directly across from his stance. They are weathered, very obviously abused by bullets frequently. He can tell even from his distance that she's a crack-shot.
"That's illegal, Kate." He mumbles stupidly, turning to her as she inclines her head very slightly over her shoulder.
"Mm." She hums, a bit of rattling catching Herman off guard as she fiddles with her gun.
"Is that a… BB-Gun?" He squints at the gun on the crate, studying the grinning cowboy branded into the stock. "Where'd you get that—?"
"There are other questions you'd rather ask." She interrupts impatiently, whirling quickly on her heel until she's facing him with accusing eyes, her back resting against the crates. "That's why you followed me here, right?"
There is a flash of anger in him, cutting so deep that he nearly crosses the room and backhands her like the child she is. He pauses a few steps away from her, though, glaring into her insolent stare with restraint laced cautiously in his joints.
"A few." He replies quietly, enjoying the small shiver he sees run through her spine.
They stare at one another for a moment, Kate chafing the rubber of her sneakers against one another in loud squeaks, Herman clenching and un-clenching his fists as he fights to pick the most appropriate question first.
Instead he begins to feel stupid in his helmet.
He yanks it off angrily, grunting in frustration when he forgets the buckles tucked under his chin, but it's only a short pause in the removal before he lets it fall loudly to the ground.
His hair is sweaty and out of style, so he messes it up further with furious hands, working his jaw as he watches her eyes follow his hands with interest. He feels his resolve break when he meets her eyes.
…Herman decides he doesn't want to know much. At least, not right now.
"I just…" He mutters brokenly, for she can already see the decision in his eyes. "Why me?"
Kate looks up at him as he drags himself pathetically to her, the triumph burning so vividly in her eyes that he is nearly sick.
Kate keeps him entranced with eyes that sparkle in the dark, helping him along the rest of the way to her awaiting body with a tug to his vest. She slowly pushes her knee up between his legs once he's there and cocks her head to the side with a malevolent smile.
All at once her body is pressed to his, firm and soft and excessively hot in the stuffy storage room. He can see the sweat, just there, in the dip above her upper lip.
He leans forward as her hands slide up the sides of his neck, thin fingers plucking at his earlobes before they're tangled in his hair. He closes in until their thickened breathing puffs against lips and noses, until his tongue is there in that sweet little cleft, cleaning the sweat away with a chaste, wet touch.
"I want you." She breathes out in a burst of hot air, as if she had been holding it in, and he nods deliriously, lifting her and placing her on the crate behind her in a hurried move.
He isn't sure who this man is, the one here in the storage room, kissing his son's first love, cheating on his wife, betraying his friend and doctor. Herman was so quickly and wholly possessed by this girl's presence that he didn't have time enough to comprehend his destruction. He still cannot, not even now when still balancing on the brink of free-fall.
It is too much though, for he is not allowing himself a thought in this moment; it is too risky.
There is only Kate; the damp heat of her pressed against him deeply as she spreads her legs wantonly, grinding against him in breathtaking urgency.
He nearly can't take it, not this all at once so quickly. She must be vastly experienced or vastly inexperienced, for she moves her hips just so that Herman's hands rush to steady her movements, sinking his fingers into her waist in an attempt to still her.
She doesn't like that; her teeth bump against his purposefully in retaliation before they're sinking into his lip, a small noise escaping from her throat that sounds vaguely threatening.
His eyes begin to water from the sharp pain in his lip and the great urgency in his groin and panicky heart—it's not enough, but it never will be. She has gone too far, pushed him too greatly, and now he can never be completely satisfied with what she can give him. Not truly.
She's too fast for him, too graceful and strong, he realizes. Kate slides down from the crate; her lips devouring him and making his muscles ache from the excitement.
She claws at him, rips at the zipper of his vault suit, pushes him back against the crate with overt aggression, and utterly steals his breath away when she lowers herself to her knees in front of his opened suit.
He nearly breaks down when he realizes that the bulky contraptions on her knees are, in fact, Little League knee pads.
"Why me?" He asks once more with a shaken gasp, enraptured with the image of her tongue gliding along a prominent vein running up the side of his penis.
The sounds she makes, wet and depraved and shameless, has his chest filling with fluttering and unstable air, has his arms shaking with the grip he has on the crate behind him. He hasn't wanted someone so terribly since—
"I already told you." She whispers around the bulk of him, taking a moment to smile humorlessly up at him before pulling his hips slowly towards her. Herman watches with a restless sort of groan as his cock, swollen and too hot and pulsing from excitement, sinks into her mouth until it disappears.
She's done this before, he thinks faintly as his head falls back in bliss. With my son? With Wally Mack?
The fury that grovels sickly in his chest makes him thrust his hips forward sharply, pressing the tip of him against the back of her throat and making her cough and gag loudly.
"You bastard…" Kate pants and blinks heavily as a murky tear runs a black line down her cheek. She opts to pump him with her hand as she catches her breath.
Looking down at her, though, Herman can tell she isn't offended. The opposite, actually; her eyes sparkle with admiration and heat for him, a genuine smile spreading across her shining lips as she wipes at her running eye-makeup.
It makes him want to vomit, to strike her, so he forces himself to look away from her as he wraps his hand over hers, guiding her towards his release. And it's not long away; he's been thinking about this for too long, wanting this and hating this.
It's barely two minutes of her working her mouth and hand over him that he comes, her name on his breath and his hands forcing her head down on his hips with two handfuls of her hair until she's choking.
Herman finds himself watching her as she carefully guides him through post-orgasmic shudders, her tongue caressing him in gentle circles and lips sucking in light, methodic pulses.
It doesn't take him long to realize that she has been touching herself this entire time—his eyes travel in awe along the length of her arm until it disappears between her legs.
"Let me." He breathes—begs, really.
She doesn't respond, doesn't really move other than to rest the side of her face against his thigh. Her eyes, which are closed in delight, open suddenly in a devilishly languorous way to meet his—his breath hitches at the sight.
Herman grows impatient with her constant teasing, opting to yank her up to him by her shoulder. She yelps from the rough movement, wincing deeply in pain before she stomps on his foot in reprisal.
It's not much, but it still makes him grunt in discomfort before he's yanking her back against his chest, molding her form to his and hugging his arms around her tightly to prevent her struggle. They fight for a moment, her snarling and scratching at him in her attempts to wiggle out of his grip. He holds her down well enough.
Kate lets her head fall back to his shoulder and arches her back into him, grinding her backside against him restlessly, shamelessly.
"I'll never forgive you." He whispers in her ear as his fingers fumble with her suit's zipper, clumsily forcing their way into her underwear.
She laughs, the horrible thing; laughs and presses a searing kiss to that very same spot on his jaw where she began all of this. "You will."
Herman sinks a finger into her languidly, breathing deeply through his nose at the feel of her—not a virgin, obviously. Snug, though, and wondrously hot with her slick.
Her response is weak, barely a whimper, and he adds another finger just to hear that sound again. "More, Sir…"
It feels like an awkward dance—almost: the way he has to move with her to keep her upright. She shakes against him, grinding and thrusting her hips against his fingers with enough vigor to make her pant—the eroticism makes his breathing come heavy as well, his breath stirring the baby-hairs framing her face.
"Just there, almost…!" She gasps just moments before he feels the tight contractions around his fingers, the muscles in her body going taut and her legs shaking until they buckle beneath her.
He grunts at her sudden collapsed weight in his arms, awkwardly using his knee to aid his effort to keep her upright as she begins to shiver, whisper to him, groan in appreciation… it's all sort of a blur, if he's honest.
Maybe it's the final realization of what he's just done, that this is all permanent and real and… he's just done it. Herman thinks that the worst of this all is that he wants it again. Oh, God, does he want it again…
It takes him a moment to see her, really see her, and when he does he realizes that she's cleaning herself off with his undershirt before shimmying back into her cotton panties. Spotlessly white, of course.
Herman watches her, still labored of breath, still exposed with his vault suit opened and his undershorts yanked down his hip.
She's radiant in her youth, her amber skin flushed in post-coital, her hair haphazardly free from its formerly prim pony-tail, her dark eye-makeup smeared from sweat and emotionless tears.
There is something attractive about this: her—the ruined visage of this star-student; seeing her filthy and disheveled, so unlike her true self, makes a strange swell of breath lift his chest.
He begins to tuck himself back into his armor, struggling with shaking fingers on some of the latches before she's there in front of him, working with quick flicks of her fingers, strapping him in securely.
And then Kate kisses him, a kiss that makes him nervous, makes his heart thump uncomfortably hard and precise against his ribcage. She tastes of him, bitter and salty, and it disgusts him—yet he still can't help but grab greedy handfuls of her to pull her closer into the kiss.
She pulls away in a breathless flurry of movement, her lips shining and deeply pink from his vigor. Kate's got that sparkle in her eye, the one that enraptures him instantly—makes him wonder what she'll do with him next.
Kate is fast as she snatches her hand out to grasp him between his thighs, wrenching a horrified gasp from Herman as she grips his cock tightly through his vault suit—just firmly enough to rouse him once more after a few strokes.
She burns her devilish eyes into his for a moment before she gives her lips a quick lick, leaning up towards his ear on her very tip toes.
"Give Pepper a big kiss for me, eh Manny?" She whispers, and his heart breaks.