After a quick bath in the frigid waters under the old bridge, River retreated to the truck stop roof, where she stretched out nude over an old towel, letting the sun warm the chill and water from her bare skin. The classical radio station filtered out from her Pip-Boy at her side, interrupted by the occasional whuff from Dogmeat as he patrolled around sniffing out molerat tunnels.
A breeze played over her skin, cooling the hot blaze of sunlight. The comfort of being clean and warm and safe hung heavy in her eyelids, and she dozed in and out, waking briefly to roll onto her stomach, exposing her back to the heat of the sun.
That was how MacCready found her when he finally climbed up to the roof, and she stirred at the touch of his fingers down her spine, almost cool against her sun-flushed back. "You're gonna burn if you stay up here." He admired the new color to her skin as she stretched the stiffness from her muscles, shaking the towel out before wrapping it around her body.
After hours in the sun, the garage was semi-dark and blessedly cool. Their weapons were spread out over the coffee table, cleaned and reassembled from the spotless look to them and the oil-stained rag at their side.
"You've been busy," she observed, a note of guilt coloring her tone. "While I lazed about in the sun."
MacCready kissed the base of her throat, one of his arms sliding around her, pulling her back against his chest. "I don't mind," he assured her with a brief press of teeth over her skin that summoned a shiver down the length of her spine. "I like when you sunbathe, all pretty and naked up there whenever I want you."
River laughed, sun-drowsy and weak to the arrogant, possessive curve of his smile as he guided her toward the bed. His hands drew the towel from her body, roaming appreciatively over soft skin before urging her onto the bed. "And if I felt like making it up to you?" she breathed, rolling back over the mattress, white hair pooled under her head.
He drank in the sight of her sprawled out before him, one long, slender leg braced against his shoulder. A kiss to the ticklish sole of her foot drew a giggle and a reflexive kick out of her that he steadied in his hands, laughing at the pout that tugged at her lips. "You never owe me anything, beautiful."
"You know I love doing things for you, too," she answered easily, curling a leg around his waist to draw him closer. He caught himself with a hand against the mattress and smirked into her kiss, groaning at the stroke of her tongue over his bottom lip.
He enjoyed a few more languid, deepening kisses, his hand cradling her body close, and it felt extra sinful to be so utterly bare and vulnerable beneath him when he was still fully-clothed. His thumb rolled over one of her nipples, rough against sensitive nerves, and she purred out a moan that made him buck against her in response. "Maybe," he ground out finally, lust scraping rough across his voice. His mouth sucked a mark into her throat, swallowing down the groan that hummed beneath her skin. "Would you read something for me?"
River smiled knowingly. "That's hardly doing something for you."
"I want your legs wrapped around my head pretty much always," he shot back readily, reaching over for the well-loved book on her nightstand. "Doesn't get much more for me than that."
A blush tinted her cheeks. "Did you have something in mind?"
Without a word, he flipped gingerly through the ancient pages until he found what he was looking for and handed it to her, the ghost of a smirk etching arrogance over his features. While she glanced over the familiar poem, his palms ran along the curve of her ribcage, dragging cool over soft skin, sun-stained bronze and still warm from its touch. Then she felt his lips brush over her hipbone, the brief flick of his tongue at her sensitive flesh, making her squirm and sigh. A puff of breath warmed her when he chuckled quietly. "You taste so damn good when you've been lyin' in the sun all day."
River smiled at the book held in her hands, teeth edging sharp into her bottom lip. The rough pads of his fingers drew heated patterns over her skin as she fought to measure her breathing. "Good choice," she approved softly, then cleared her throat, settling back against the pillows. "Ready?"
"Always," his voice replied, and though the book blocked most of her vision, she could feel the weight and heat of his body near her legs.
"Al golpe de la ola contra le piedra indócil." Uncertainty frayed the first few syllables before her mouth remembered the feel of them, the lilt and bounce of Spanish over her tongue and behind her teeth. "La claridad estalla y establece su rosa."
"Yeah, that's the stuff," MacCready sighed, grinning at the sound of her shaky laughter as he settled between her thighs. "Go on, angel. You got a lot more to go."
She took a steadying breath, trying to focus solely on the faded ink sprawling over the page before her, and not MacCready's mouth searing kisses up the slope of her leg. "Y-y el circulo del mar se reduce a un racimo." One wide, coarse hand guided her thigh up over his shoulder, and he paused to scrape his teeth along her skin, eliciting a fervent shiver and a sharp breath that sucked cool air deep into her lungs. "A una sola gota . . . de-de sal azul que cae."
MacCready rumbled a pleased sound and kneaded circles with his thumb into the muscles of her thigh, firming over old aches and pains that disappeared beneath his skilled fingers. He'd always done that for her - eased her troubles away with little more than his bare hands and that disarming, tender way he looked at her like she was everything he'd needed coming together all at once. He'd been so distrustful upon first meeting her, so guarded, had built up a thousand walls to keep everybody out, and yet now every gaze he sent her was rich and nuanced with affection, sometimes frustration, often both at once, when they drove each other crazy in that way that only people who love each other can.
"Awful quiet up there," he noted with amusement, and rested an arm over the cradle of her hips, lifting one of his brows at her.
River traced her free hand admiringly over the sloping muscles of his forearm, purring restlessly, already impatient and they'd only just gotten started. "Oh radiante magnolia," she went on rhythmically, her voice painting the cadence into silk-smooth flowing music. It was melody and mystery; the meaning would have been lost on his ears if he hadn't read the translation time and time again, and with the verses nearly etched into the back of his mind, savoring the sound now was twice as sweet. He rewarded her with a rough kiss to the seam of her thigh, more teeth than lips, and her hips rolled restlessly in response. "Desatada en la espuma."
She felt his breath roll warm over the aching, sensitive folds of her sex, biting back a needy, desperate whimper. She ran her tongue along the line of her teeth and exhaled in determination. "Magnética viajera cuya muerte florece. . ." The distantly familiar syllables felt heavy in her mouth with his lips brushing over slick, sensitive heat, parting and searching and finding with unerring ease. He pressed a kiss to the swollen bud of her clit and chuckled knowingly when her hips twitched in response. She swallowed back a sudden well of saliva and pushed through the rest of the line, "Y eternamente vuelve a ser y a no ser nada."
The next line she knew by heart, the sibilants and alliteration and rolling, twisting vowels that felt like fresh air and freedom on her tongue. She threw her head back and gasped when MacCready closed his lips around her clit and gave a lazy, experimental suck, hands already around her hips to steady the resulting clench in her body.
"Oh, god," she gasped, eyes screwed shut tight into blinding darkness, then before he could stop, "Sal rota, deslumbrante movimiento marino." English danced at the back of her thoughts, echoing its Spanish twin, broken salt, dazzling lurch of sea, such beautiful, beautiful words, and in harmony with the breathless anticipation threading tension through her body, she felt suspended, anxious, hanging by a thread and utterly helpless in his hands.
MacCready urged her other leg over his shoulder and then his mouth was on her fully, tongue lashing up the length of her sex, stealing the breath from her lungs with waves and waves of dizzying, fire-bright pleasure that sparked up her spine like lightning. Her hands found the back of his head, fingers weaving into thick, mussed hair, and he hummed approvingly against her. His mouth was so divine and yet such a wicked thing all at once, warm lips and the scrape of facial hair, questing, confident tongue that could spell out her undoing in perfect, precision strokes.
"Okay," she panted, head spinning as she wet her lips and struggled to focus on reading the words in front of her. The few of his fingernails he hadn't bitten down scraped searing, delicious lines of pain over her thigh. Her teeth bit down into a swollen, red lip as she squirmed. "Ah, juntos tú y yo, amor mío, sellamos el silencio." It was a promise and a prayer, rhyming, round vowels like a chant, and his mouth moving lovingly over her sex felt like something sacred with the words on her tongue. "Mmn - mientras destruye - ah! - destruye el mar sus constantes estatuas!" The sudden sting of teeth lacing the flesh of her thigh forced the last few syllables into a loud gasp, her back arching off the bed. She barely caught a scream behind her teeth when two warm, dry fingers traced down the slick, weeping length of her slit, a few strokes of teasing, blissful pressure that had her whimpering between shallow breaths. "Y derrumba sus torres de arrebato y . . . oh, god, y blancura."
MacCready traced hard, measured circles around her clit with his tongue, holding her thighs steady in an iron grip. She rocked her hips against his mouth, the book shaking in her hands as he worked her insistently toward release with a smug, easy arrogance she absolutely adored on him.
River eyed the last three lines of the poem in that impossibly tiny lettering, the words growing blurry then disappearing as her eyes slid shut. A high, keening moan slid out between her teeth when he sank two fingers into the slick heat of her sex. "Shit," she panted, hips rolling to take his fingers deeper as he started to crook and curl them, pressing thick, magnetic pleasure inside of her that coursed through her nerves all the way down to her curling toes and the slender fingers gripping desperately at the roots of his hair. She forced her eyes open again and inhaled deeply to find some center of focus among the pressure and sensation plucking at her scattered, frenzied mind.
"Porque en la trama de estos tejidos invisibles," she breathed, moans of bliss weaving into the lilting syllables. His mouth slid down around her swollen clit again, his tongue rolling over the sensitive nerves as he rocked his fingers inside of her, and the searing, razor-sharp pleasures in tandem swept her like a current toward climax. "Del agua desbocada, de la incesante arena."
She gripped the book with white knuckles, shaking almost too hard to read the faded print. Her legs clenched and tensed over his shoulders as he sucked at her folds, tongue rolling firm strokes over her throbbing clit. "Shit, shit, ah!" she whimpered, and he muffled a laugh against her skin. She fought the overwhelming pulse of pleasure swelling through her, urged on by his fingers pumping into her and his mouth like flame and heaven on her sex, threatening to steal all coherency as she danced the line of orgasm. Her hand in his hair tightened into a fist, drawing a pained grunt out of him but he never relented the onslaught of blinding sensation. "Sostenemos la única y acosada ternura."
A laughing gasp of relief followed quickly after her success, then a fierce cry when he yanked her closer, fingers edging into her hip. The sharp, pulling suction of his mouth around her aching clit and his fingers bucking thick and sweet inside of her tipped her finally over the edge, and she unraveled with a hoarse scream, hips grinding into his mouth to draw out the aftershocks of core-tightening release that washed all the tension and worry from her bones.
River went limp once the last lick of pleasure had finally faded from her raw nerves, and MacCready lifted slowly off of her, pausing to kiss the shivering curve of her hip. He shot her a satisfied grin. "Even better than I thought it'd sound." His lips brushed over a nipple, drawing another shudder out of her oversensitive body. "They always sound prettier when you say 'em, though."
She bit her lip when he pulled his shirt up over his head, swiping it over his mouth before tossing it aside. Her eyes traced the taut muscle that roped along his torso, a murmur of adoration in her throat. "God, it's like somebody made you just for me," she sighed lovingly.
He chuckled, nose skimming the line of her jaw as his hips settled between hers. The heavy tip of his cock brushed over her sex, pulling a hiss from behind her teeth. He caught her lips in a kiss and she tasted herself on his tongue, his teeth pulling at her bottom lip as he guided himself to the dip of her entrance. He ducked his head against hers when he pushed into her, agonizingly slowly, his lips brushing the edge of her mouth, murmuring her name again and again, a thousand promises hanging in the two whispered syllables: it was River and it was also thank you, and I love you, and you have me always, his own beautiful poem he crafted out of her name and she loved him more every time he said it.
River clung to his shoulders as he caught her throat between his teeth, hips rolling a deep, languid rhythm that dragged the weight of his cock over all the perfect points inside of her, pain and pleasure coming together in that most heavenly of harmonies. "Oh," she gasped, nails sliding over his shoulders. "Oh, god, yes, baby."
His mouth latched onto hers, kissing her deeply, one hand winding into the wind-tangled white hair spilling around her shoulders. His tongue swept over hers, and she moaned, hips rolling as his cock filled her again, thick and heavy in all the best ways.
She murmured his name, smiling when he pressed a tender kiss to the edge of her mouth. He took her slowly, languidly, savoring the pulsing heat of her around him. She cradled his face in her hand, lips at the curve of his jaw as she whimpered at the apex of another deep thrust, curling her legs around him to lock them together. "Te amo, cariño," she panted, voice wrecked and rough with want. "I love you."
MacCready leaned into the palm of her hand, a low groan in his throat. "Always," he promised breathlessly, and sank into her again, muffling another strangled sound at the crook of her throat. "Love you." He bit down around the base of her neck, sucking a bruise there before laving kisses over the tender mark. His lips grazed her chin, her panting lips, the thin, rounded tip of her nose. They must have made love a thousand times now, and sometimes he still touched her like he couldn't believe he really had her in his arms.
The sun's warmth had long since faded from her skin, but the scorching curl of his body around her and the sweet burn of stretching around his thick cock coiled heat deep in the pit of her belly, a rising tide of pressure and sensation that sang like vibrant music over her raw nerves. "Shit, baby," she whined, rocking her hips to meet each rolling thrust. "Oh, that's perfect, yes right there, please god, baby, don't ever stop."
The sound of her frenzied rant made him smile, and he buried a laugh against her collarbone, tongue lapping up the salt of sweat and the faintest whisper of summer breeze still clinging to her skin. He pressed his palm to the side of her jaw, thumb brushing along her bottom lip. "Tell me, angel," he coaxed her, lips parting around a groan when she sucked briefly at the pad of his thumb.
River threw her head back, every cant of his hips drawing another frayed moan from her throat. "Fuck, I . . . I love your mouth, and your hands, and your cock -" Another deep thrust momentarily stole the words from her tongue, and she struggled to focus past the heat spiraling up her spine, blurring the last few coherent thoughts that held fast through the frenzy of pleasure. "Oh, god, baby, you're so good."
MacCready closed his lips around a taut nipple and drew at the sensitive peak until she writhed and cried out beneath him, each measured pull setting off streaks of blinding ecstasy in the black behind her eyelids. He hissed when she clenched around him and scrabbled at his shoulders with sharp fingernails, begging mindlessly for something, anything, all she knew was his name, over and over, "RJ, please, baby, I need you."
He choked out a strangled moan, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her. A few calloused fingertips traced rough circles around her sensitive nipples, hunting lower over the tensing plane of her stomach to her slick sex, finding the swollen bead of her clit. He slung her knees over his shoulders and rolled back onto his heels, teeth biting back a smirk as she squirmed under his knowing touch.
"Not - fair," she bit out between clenched teeth, shaking her head frantically back and forth.
"You wanted to do something for me," he reminded her, voice rich with amusement. His hips pulled out and thrust back into her, rougher now, responding to the desperate way she kept pulling him closer. She felt the brush of his beard over her cheek, and then his mouth at her jaw, lips and teeth and the husky drawl of his voice close to her ear. "So come for me."
River could deny him nothing. His voice at her ear and his cock driving into her again and again sent her careening into orgasm, clinging to him desperately for some sort of anchor as the world throbbed and pulsed with pleasure around her. She felt his teeth at her throat and the hum of a loud groan there as he thrust frantically and came inside of her. Her fingers stroked soothingly through his hair while she coaxed him through it, his body jerking erratically against her until he finally fell still.
He kissed her tenderly in the wake of their frenzied lovemaking, hands gentle as he cradled her face. The hammering of her pulse eventually evened out and she managed to catch her breath between loving, affectionate kisses, soft with gratitude. Tangled together in the safety of their makeshift home, she could almost forget about their worries and troubles, the momentous and the insignificant, the dread and fears that kept her up at night.
She read the poem again for him later, once he was sated enough to keep his hands to himself, though the rich, Spanish syllables in the smoke of her voice still sent shivers of heat down his spine. The foreign language was like some secret, decadent, old-world luxury, ancient and alive within her like so many others. He wanted her to speak it to him every day, to teach it to their sons so they could have some part of that better world in them, too. Some hope of turning out like she did.
He would never understand the original words entirely, or the way they linked together into meaning, but when River read them aloud, he heard all he needed to hear.
Thank you and I love you and you have me always.
