Obligatory Disclaimer: This story is a work of fanfiction. I do not own Fallout or any canon material that may be described within. I do claim ownership of my OCs and any original content not found in the game.
A/N: Soooo… Yeah, this little monstrosity got stuck in my head-canon and would not leave me alone. Inspired by a fanfic I read on AO3, the thought was: What if Sam was introduced to Porter Gage and got stuck alone with him? My hopes in writing this out is that I'll be able to focus on my main story afterwards since I'm having a really hard time getting back in the mood for it (stupid ADHD).
This was originally supposed to be a one-shot with a hastily made setup to explain why/how Sam and Gage got thrown together, but the more I thought about it the more I realized… this story actually has some decent plot potential. It fits with my main story's current events (Sam's goal in "becoming an adult" to get stronger) and even has some feasible character growth (Sam learning that raiders are just people and not all of them are savage animals—most of them, but not all—and Gage realizing that caring for someone isn't always a weakness and being soft on occasion doesn't mean you are soft, or something like that). So, yeah, now my mind is off and running with it. The good news is that I intend to keep this short, no more than five chapters, so I might actually finish a fanfic this time :).
I would like to note that this is not part of the main story—Sam never meets Gage and he doesn't even make an appearance—so I guess this is like an AU of my original AU in which Sam exists in the Fallout world, lol. Also, If you haven't read my main story, Fallout 4: Sam, I encourage you to check it out. This story will definitely have references to it and I'm not going to backtrack and explain everything again. Sorry.
Warning! This story is rated M and contains depictions of violence, sexual situations, and a whole lot of cursing. Not suitable for minors.
I'm not too sure how explicit is explicit, so I guess I'll find out (if it gets taken down, I might post it on AO3 but I really don't want to make another account :/). This chapter specifically has some serious non-consent vibes. There is no actual intercourse, so I don't know if this is considered rape, more like molestation. I would like to say I absolutely do not condone this type of behavior or any type of assault. Gage is a raider and raiders are assholes. If the Fallout world were real—a world with no government, no laws or law enforcement and very little society—I imagine raiders would probably operate under "prison rules," where sex is not just something shared between people that like each other but used as a way to dominate someone and "put them in their place." If this triggers you, a thousand and one apologies but you have been warned. If you're following the main story and this ruins your perception of Sam, I am terribly sorry… maybe you shouldn't read this :P.
So, without further ado, here is the messed up crap that rents space in my head. Enjoy… or don't.
~(:(Chapter One):)~
SAM
I sat on the edge of the musty mattress, my back rigid as I angrily shoved bullets into my rifle's magazine. The small cabin we came across just as the sun set was the only good thing to come out of this cluster but it wasn't enough to settle my mood—not even close. Today had been a bad day, even by Commonwealth standards, and all my frustrations were aimed at the asshole behind me.
Porter Gage, raider and newest addition to our little friends' group—though, I'd sooner call a supermutant 'friend' before him. I still don't know what Nate had been thinking.
The General strolled into Goodneighbor after being gone for over a month, the beast of a raider following behind, claiming they needed help clearing some location crawling with baddies. I'd been reluctant from the beginning, revolting against the idea of working with a raider but Nate convinced me to go, saying that two snipers were better than one. I told myself it would be fine, that everything would go according to plan. I should have known better—my luck was never that good.
Of course, the plan fell apart, there being a larger Gunner force than anticipated. Of course, I'd get separated from the rest of the group, having posted up on the other side of the river. Of course, a stray grenade would take out the only bridge for miles back to the other side. And, wouldn't you know it, the one person I didn't want to be alone with just happened to be on this side when it crumbled.
The man in question was currently sitting in a chair against the wall, meticulously cleaning his handmade rifle. Having him at my back was causing a knot of tension to form right between my shoulder blades. It made me grit my teeth and I couldn't help but shoot him a glare over my shoulder.
He looked the part of raider with his warrior stripe mohawk and welded metal armor. The cage chest-plate was resting on the floor at the moment, leaving him in a tank-top and strappy harness that did nothing to hide his muscled arms and ripped chest. He was huge, stacked, savage—and I was absolutely terrified of him.
I hated it. I hated how small and weak I felt just being near him. It scared the shit out of me, which made me rage. I had a bad habit of mouthing off when I got scared, using anger to cover up the fear. Traveling with Gage was unbearable. Everything he said I would challenge, argue and snap at. I just couldn't help it. The more I would snap the more he'd glare and snarl back, making the fear stronger and my words sharper.
Yeah, it was a bad day.
His one eye suddenly locked onto mine at the weight of my gaze, his other covered by a bulky leather eyepatch. The dark look made me bristle and I whipped back around, my spine stiffening even more as I tried to suppress the anxious shiver. Out in the Wastes was bad enough but now that we were stuck in this tiny shack it was ten times worse. His presence filled the entire room and I could feel a cold sweat trickle down my neck.
Movements agitated, I grabbed my rifle and rammed the mag into place, racking the bolt to load the first round. Standing, I leaned the .50cal against the wall and set about making a spot for myself on the floor next to the old bed. I'd already pissed off the raider enough for one day—admittedly, not the smartest thing to do. I just had to make it back to the others and everything would be fine.
Unstrapping the sleeping bag from my pack, I let it roll out and bent to lay it down.
"You'll take the bed," Gage ordered behind me.
His voice was deep, gravelly, and loud in the quiet room. The sound of it snapped my spine straight again, the hair rising on the back of my damp neck. I swung my glare towards him.
"Yeah, and where will you sleep?" I mentally cursed at my snarky tone, wishing I could just keep quiet. Why did I have to be like this?
The raider slowly took his rifle from his lap, leaning it against the wall next to him then sat back in the chair, hands resting on solid thighs. His dark eye stared at me, his mouth curving into a grin that was more threatening than it should be.
"The bed."
My heart stuttered then raced and my hands twisted into the sleeping bag. A jolt of fear shot through me as I looked from Gage to the bed, the angry mask cracking a bit. There was no way. No way I was sharing a bed with him.
"I'll sleep on the floor," I stressed, my voice wavering slightly. Turning away, I forced my hands to unclench.
"No, you won't," his voice rumbled confidently and the answering rage formed a scowl on my face.
"Why not?!" I snarled, throwing the sleeping bag to the floor as my body turned to him with a jerk. The raider shifted in his seat, as if uncomfortable, before returning my sneer with one of his own.
"'Cuz you seem to have a problem with followin' orders, that's why," he growled.
The air hissed from between my teeth. "Wha—"
"Shut up!" Gage barked, the volume of it making my chest heave with fright. My nails dug into my palms and I willed myself to not back away.
"The boss is fond of you, told me himself," he continued calmly, like he didn't just give me a heart attack with his shouting. "And he'd have my head if I don't get you back in one piece."
The hulk of a man leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees and pinning me with his gaze. A menacing look that promised bad things to come.
"So, until we get back, you're gunna shut your fuckin' mouth and do as you're told," Gage bit out, his voice dangerously low. "Get. In. The bed."
The mask slipped a bit more, the anger leeching away like a cracked pipe leaking water. My breath came out in shallow pants, nails cutting painfully into my skin. He was sitting there, muscled body wound tight and ready to spring and a tremor worked its way down my legs.
Gage had been surprisingly tolerant of my bad attitude—for a raider—but now he was done. I should listen. I should just shut up and listen because the threat in his eye wasn't a bluff. But I couldn't, even if I wanted to. My whole being rebelled at the idea of sharing a bed, refusing to obey. I wouldn't touch him with the pointy end of a long stick much less actually fall asleep, vulnerable and helpless, mere inches from him. I wasn't going to do it, not willingly. The terror churning my stomach and icing my bones wouldn't let me.
Anger surged forward in an attempt to protect me, to prevent my body from freezing up. It was a defense mechanism, I knew that. The Wastes were dangerous and you couldn't afford to become frozen with fear—that's how you end up dead. My "bad habit" had saved my life more than once but now it was going to get me killed. Sometimes you had to fight to survive and sometimes you had to roll over and play dead. Too bad it didn't know the difference.
My panting turned ragged, legs strengthening and squaring up in a defensive position as I bared my teeth like an animal. My mouth opened on its own to cuss and scream but I snapped it shut, desperately trying to stop. The man's jaw clenched, hands gripping his knees tight like he, too, was fighting to control himself. Brawny shoulders lifted as he took a breath and exhaled a thrumming growl. A warning.
Don't say it. Just calm down and stay quiet. Don't—
"Why?!" I raged, all of the frustration pouring out. "Why are you such a fucking dick all the—"
I saw the change, the way the glint in his dark eye shifted to something… feral. All the anger abandoned me in a rush, terror draining the blood from my face and freezing the air in my chest. It was the same look Hancock got, right before he killed someone. Shit.
It had been a bad day, but it was about to get worse.
Gage stood abruptly, knocking the chair on its side. The movement was faster than it should be for someone of his size and I stumbled back with a startled squeak. My body plastered itself to the wall behind me, the wild beat of my heart pounding loudly in my ears. It was just like before, in that alley—the raider's hand around my neck, choking me, killing me—except no one was going to save me this time. I was on my own, and I was going to die.
Gage stalked towards me like a predator, his long stride quickly bringing him around the bed. A burst of panic spurred me into motion and I darted, scrambling over the bed away from him. I didn't stop and rushed to the door, my fingers latching around the handle. I wrenched it open an inch before a solid body rammed into my back, pushing me against the door and slamming it shut again. His steely arm wrapped around my waist and ripped me away from the only exit.
"The fuck you think you're goin'?!" the raider snarled, yanking me back into his rocklike chest and lifting me off my feet.
A fearful screech clawed its way up my throat as I struggled against the impossibly strong hold. He turned us back towards the bed and I kicked, the heel of my boot smashing into his shin. The man barked a curse, stumbling from the hit and my feet touched the ground.
I swung as hard as I could, my elbow jabbing him in the gut. It forced the breath from him in a loud puff and his arm fell from me. I lunged forward, desperate to get away but I wasn't fast enough, his hand snatching up my wrist.
"Come 'ere!" Gage roared, the fury in his voice pulling another cry from me.
He tugged me around, his grip bruisingly tight. I went to swing again but his free hand knocked my arm down and slammed into my chest with an open palm. The size of it spanned across me, almost shoulder to shoulder, and pushed until I was trapped against the cabin wall. I pushed back but it was like trying to move a boulder.
Dread settled in the pit of my stomach, knowing that at any moment his hand was going to slide up my neck and start squeezing. Then, I remembered the 10mm still strapped to my side. Gage must have remembered, too, because he snatched up my other wrist before I could draw the gun.
He captured both in a large hand and heaved upwards with an angry growl, lifting me straight off the ground with only one arm. I yelped, his strength frightening, and kicked at him again. He caught my leg behind the knee and hauled it up to his waist. I had a second to realize what he was doing, the frantic protest on my lips, then he lurched forwards, his front colliding with mine.
Something between a grunt and a shriek squeezed out of me, a tight and strangled sound. His torso pinned me to the wall, hipbones digging into my thighs and a very prominent hardness pressed along my groin.
"Dick, huh?" the raider drawled, a twisted, shit-eating grin baring his teeth. "I'll show you a fucking dick."
He rolled his hips once, grinding that hardness into me, making his intentions crystal clear. My free leg bent against his side, trying to kick him away but he was too close, our bodies flush together. I was expecting him to kill me, beat me or choke me out, but it seemed he had other ideas. I wasn't sure if this was better or worse.
"G-Gage!" I choked out with that same horrible sound. My mind was reeling, overloaded with too many things. The fear that built up over the day, the adrenaline of the fight, the feel of him on me—something I had no experience with.
"All day you've been fightin' me," Gage growled. "Spittin' and snarlin', like you ain't scared shitless of me."
My arms tugged against his grip, nails sinking into what I could reach of his hand in response to his words, to how he could see through my mask of anger. I wanted to curl up, thighs straining around his waist as if I could squeeze him out, but I couldn't. The strength of his hands and weight of his body held me open and exposed to him.
"Every word outta that smartass mouth of yours," he continued, his tone getting louder and aggravated. "Rilin' me up, got me hard as a fuckin' rock. All. Fuckin'. Day!"
The raider punctuated the last words with grinding thrusts, each one harder than the last until it was just this side of painful. Even through the fabric of our pants, I could feel him—the firm, heavy thickness rubbing against the hidden part of me that no one else had touched. The foreignness of it caused a nervous 'swoop' in my stomach, like the feeling of falling. My body bucked, trying to get away, but all it did was push me into him harder.
"Gage—nnh! D-don't!" I squirmed, my voice high and on the verge of hysterical.
The look in his eye shifted again, that feral glint dimming. His jaw ticked as he stared down at me, blinking as if just realizing what he was doing and grit out a quiet curse. The iron grip on my wrists loosened slightly, his body easing back a fraction of an inch.
The feel of his weight was still too much, the panic coiling tightly at being trapped. I yanked my arms more urgently, thrashing to break his hold.
"Let go!" I yelled, my heel striking the back of his leg.
He buckled and hunched forwards with a grunt, his head falling to my shoulder as we slipped down the wall. I wriggled, the toe of my free foot touching the old wood floor.
Gage tensed, his fingers digging into my thigh and an animalistic growl sounded from him, reverberating through my chest. He sprung up with an enraged roar, wrenching me back into place.
"Think you can push me an' I won't push back?!" he snarled, his eye dark and wild. His hips rammed into me, sliding me higher up the wall. It tore a scream from me, half in fear from the violent motion and half from the feel of him. His whole body was rigid, muscles flexed, almost as solid as the wall behind me.
"Practically askin' for it." His voice was strained and he stilled, pressed tight to me and shaking as if fighting against something. Suddenly, his body relaxed and his breath hissed out, warm against my face.
"Now you're gunna take it." Then, Gage began to move.
My mind blanked, still trying to come to terms with what was happening, or what was about to happen. I knew what 'it' was. Fahrenheit had given me a very uncomfortable 'sex talk', not leaving out any of the explicit details. I didn't have real experience with this but from what I did know, I was pretty sure it involved less clothes.
Gage pushed against me, his thrusts halting and uneven like he was still trying to hold back. Clothes or not, the imitation of the act and his hard body moving between my thighs sent anxious bubbles spiraling through me. They plunged low in my stomach and burst, a quiet, gasping whine drawing from my throat.
The raider groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His rhythm became more fluid, roughly stroking that firm thickness against my center over and over. I bit down on my tongue to mute the awkward, uncontrollable noises and squeezed my eyes shut. The sight and sensation of him—powerful muscles contracting, sharp hips pumping and panting breaths heating my skin—it was too obscene. Too real.
I tried to shove the panic down and think rationally. Objectively. I wasn't strong enough to make him stop. If he wanted to take his frustrations out on me there was nothing I could do about it. Struggling only seemed to piss him off more and while it was frightening and uncomfortable… it was better than being beaten to death.
Willing my body to relax I turned inward, blocking Gage out. It's fine. This is fine. He's not killing me, our clothes are still on. This is nothing. My combat training was harder than this… harder… hard… Gage is—
Another whimper fell from me and the man responded with a deep, satisfied rumble, muffled against my neck. His hand gentled on my leg, sliding up and curling under my thigh, the size of his grip encircling halfway around.
"Good girl," his gravelly voice purred, sending another burst of bubbles through my abdomen. The roughness of his thrusts eased and became a slow, rocking grind.
Oh, this… this actually feels kind of—No! Don't think about it! Ignore it, ignore him. Think about something else, anything… tinkering! Fusion engines and copper windings, the smell of coolant and turpentine, welding and wrenching and screwing… screwing—My eyes snapped open, a familiar pressure starting to build.
Oh, god.
The friction he was creating spread warmth through my groin, the tingle of sensitive nerve endings firing off. It's not like I've never had an orgasm before, but this was different. It was invasive, unwanted, and completely out of my control.
"No, stop!" I cried, my voice shrill as the panic returned in full force. I jerked in his hold, twisting and tossing to get him off of me. The raider leaned his upper body away, glaring down at me with a scowl.
"Just don't know when to quit, do ya?"
He resumed his punishing pace with a sharp snap of his hips, the pressure building higher.
"Wait!" I gasped, tears starting to well in the corner of my eyes. "S-stop, I'm—ahh! I-I'm—"
Gage chuckled darkly, that feral glint shining bright. "Shit, you gun—mmm, gunna come like this?"
He adjusted his grasp on my thigh, lifting it higher up his waist. His abs rolled like a wave, pumping in a continuous motion and the blunt end of him rubbed over that one spot in firm, quick strokes.
I threw my head back with a stuttering curse, spine arching off the wall. The tingling ignited into an aching burn, flushing my body with heat and speeding me towards the peak. The man dipped his head down, the stubble of his jaw scraping along my skin as his lips attacked my exposed neck—licking, biting and sucking.
"Stop! F-fucking stop!" I shrieked, my voice cracking. His only reply was another chuckle, guttural and vibrating against my throat.
I couldn't stop the sounds pouring from my mouth—inhuman, like something wounded and dying. It was right there, teetering on the edge. The overstimulated nerves burned with each nudge, suspended there but never falling over.
I can't, I can't, I can't!
"Go on, then," Gage growled with a nip of his teeth. "That's it—nng, fuck. Come f'me, little girl, come f—"
A loud, keening wail filled the room as the orgasm finally released. My scream was cut short as a spasm pitched me forwards, muscles seizing, legs locking around him and arms straining painfully against his hold. The force of it would have bent me in half but Gage was in the way, leaving me to convulse into him, each throb of pleasure wringing out a broken whine.
"Fucking god, that's—" The raider's words trailed off in a moan and then he was driving into me.
My voice caught in my throat, too overwhelmed to do anything but listen to his ragged grunts in my ear. He didn't last long, giving one more hard thrust before freezing against me, body molded to mine. He shuddered with a harsh shout then sagged, the full weight of him leaning on me. The hold on my wrists loosened and my arms fell limply over his shoulders.
"Fuck," Gage laughed, shaky and breathless against my neck. "The sounds you be makin', got me comin' in my pants like a goddamned teenager."
I didn't respond—or couldn't. My breathing was loud and gasping, eyes closed as my forehead rested on his collarbone, trying to recover from the pleasure still lingering. The first person I've ever been intimate with, the one to see that side of me—something that had only been mine and private—was laughing, like it was just another day in the Commonwealth. Real anger was simmering below the surface. I was pissed and not just because he stole my first shared orgasm. I was pissed because it was the best and most intense fucking orgasm I'd ever experienced. Better than I'd ever given myself.
I wanted to rage at him—fight him, hurt him—but more than that, I was tired. Exhausted and something else… There was an ache in my heart. A deep, soul-crushing ache.
He was a raider. I should hate him but I didn't. I should be kicking and clawing to get away, not laying passively against him. Both of my legs were wrapped around him, feet locked together behind his back, clinging to him. The fear was still there but it was dulled and all my frustrations were gone, thoroughly pounded out of me. Shit.
My emotions were all jumbled in my head. I was confused, mortified, but I would be lying if I said my body wasn't relaxed and satiated. His strength, his rock-hard physique, the way he made me— It was terrifying but exciting at the same time and a teeny, tiny part of me… liked it. Double shit.
I suddenly felt cold, all the heat from before gone, and a tremor ran through my body. Gage shifted, his head turning into me.
"So quiet," he mused, his large hand coming up to my face. "What? No snappy comeback—"
His palm slipped against my cheek as he cupped it, the skin slick with a wetness.
Oh… I'm crying.
~0~
GAGE
The tears coating my hand stopped the words like a brick wall, my mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out where exactly I fucked up.
Sure, I might have lost myself a bit. The earlier brawl with the Gunners and almost getting blown up by that grenade already had my blood pumping. Then came her spitting and snarling, like some cornered animal snapping its jaws.
Sam, the little sniper girl. So angry, so scared. All that rage and fear burning bright in her eyes like blue fire, challenging me. I didn't mind the snarky attitude—always liked the feisty ones—but her defiance is what got me all hot and bothered. I wasn't lying about having a raging hard-on all day. The need to smother that defiance and fuck it right out of her had my dick jumping, like a dog begging for attention.
It wasn't the first time I've had to put someone in their place. Still, I thought I did a damn good job at restraining myself. Dry-humping against the wall was mild compared to what I really wanted to do to her. Laughable, even—definitely nothing to cry about. The steady drip of tears pooling along my hand said otherwise.
I missed something. Miscalculated.
Any other raider bitch would've come up cussing by now, even if they'd learned their lesson and were sufficiently cowed. Submitting while also threatening to cut my balls off, maybe taunt me about coming in my pants like some overeager boy seeing a naked woman for the first time. It's just how they worked. You could force a raider to heel but you couldn't tame their savage nature, not most of them anyway. But the shaking girl in my arms wasn't a raider. She was something else entirely and she wasn't reacting like I thought she would.
Anyone could tell just by the look of her that she was a fighter. How she held herself, all military-like, reminded me of the boss. The toned muscles and smooth, practiced movements told me she was trained and the ache still throbbing in my gut confirmed it. And that rifle… fucking thing was almost as big as her and probably weighed half as much. A big gauge with a big kick but she carried it like nothing and damned if she didn't know how to use it. I'd seen the evidence of her aim earlier—Gunner after Gunner with half their brains blown out. Headshots, every fucking time. She might be small but she was skilled and had no problem pulling the trigger. She wasn't a pushover, couldn't be, so what was with all the damn tears?
The way she was crying made me nervous. Apart from the shaking, her body was still, nearly limp, and her breaths were evening out. Too calm, too quiet for the amount of tears. I ran my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the trail of wetness, and my throat swallowed convulsively as more streamed down. It was a slow, broken kind of weeping. Shit.
What the fuck did I miss?
The sniper girl wasn't the kind of person you overlooked. My eye was drawn to her the moment we walked through the damn gate. She was young but not too young, short—almost pixie-like—with a mop of brown hair falling into those blue-grey eyes that were almost too big for her face. A pretty little thing geared up in leather armor, shit-kicker boots with shiny steel toes and a baggy, green hoodie that had seen better days, a ridiculous smiley face on the front.
Her eyes had lit up when she saw Nate, bouncing over with a grin as dopey as the one on her shirt, practically jumping into his arms. I'd been surprised when he hugged her back. Those steel beams he called arms held her carefully—and a bit too long, as if he needed it—and his hand cradled her head, messing the short hair. Hands I'd seen him use to rip a feral's head clean off.
The man I knew was hard and ruthless. Ruthless with a purpose but still brutal enough to make even me think twice. When he decided something needed killing, he did it quick and efficiently. It was the reason I backed him as Overboss. This gentle, soft side of him was something I hadn't seen yet, not like there'd been much opportunity for it. Even his voice changed, the cold note melting away as he talked to the girl, turning all warm and sympathetic, like he was hiding his more savage side from her. "Chicken" he called her. Cute, like some pet name you would give a little sister or maybe a daughter.
I bet that cheery, affectionate look in her eyes wouldn't last long if she knew what he was really like—that he and I had more in common than she thought.
There was something about the whole interaction. She was too open, too trusting, showing herself like that. It was something you didn't see often, not with how fucked the world was. Damned if I could remember the last time I met someone so guileless, almost innocent—
Fuck.
I exhaled sharply as the realization sunk in. That's what I was missing. She was innocent, as in virginal.
It was hard to believe but it fit with the way she was acting. Her fear, how… squirmy she was, and those sounds, so uncontrolled and raw. An actual fucking virgin. Pretty impressive to be honest—it was a damn miracle she managed to stay untouched for so long and I wondered how she did it.
The boss's warning came to mind, the one he gave me after she was out of earshot…
"A real spitfire, that one," I commented, thinking about how the girl's eyes had burned like two blue flames as she stared at me. I couldn't resist giving the boss shit, his soft handling of her sitting uncomfortably in my gut. "Didn't think your tastes ran so—"
"This going to be a problem, Gage?" Nate interrupted, abruptly turning to face me. All that softness was gone, replaced with something cold and dangerous.
"No problem, boss," I answered calmly, keeping my tone even.
I'd learned early on how to deal with the man's more severe moods, and fuck if he didn't look downright murderous right now. All because I made a cracking remark about the little sniper girl. Shit.
"We're not in Nuka World anymore," he continued, not satisfied with my response in the least. "The rules are different here and you're the odd man out this time."
"Got it."
Nate took a step forward, his glare locked on my eye.
"Sam means a lot to a lot of people, so I'm going to tell you the same thing I was told when I first met her: If anything happens to that girl on your watch, you'll have all of Goodneighbor—" he gave a humorless laugh. "Hell, half of the Commonwealth, out 'gunnin' for your ass', myself included."
A threat if I'd ever heard one. The raider in me wanted to challenge it but the merciless look in his flat, grey eyes killed the urge. The boss was the boss for a reason and I had no desire to fight him—I knew what he was capable of.
"I said I got it," I grumbled, clenching my jaw at the nervous sweat forming down my back.
"I hope so," Nate mused quietly, the coldness leaving his stare. "I'm putting my trust in you, Gage. Don't make me regret it."
…Well, shit.
If the girl had people like the boss looking out for her, that would explain why she was still a virgin. She was protected—as sheltered as one could get in the Wastes. I bet with scary fuckers like Nate hovering around, no one's had the opportunity… until now.
Fuck. The boss is gunna kill me.
I needed to do damage control. She wasn't going to respond to violence and threats, not like I wanted her to. If I was going to get her to stop crying and be the snappy little spitfire she was before, I had to go about this a different way. I needed to be… soft.
The thought made me want to snap my jaws like a feral dog, my teeth grinding to stop the growl rumbling in my throat. I was a raider, not some pansy-ass nursemaid. The fuck did I know about being soft?
Focus, Porter. There's a crying virgin girl in your arms.
She was still shaking but her breathing was calm, the slow puffs of air warm on my chest. I've never had to apologize for hurting someone before—wasn't even sure I knew how—but I had to do something. How did the boss do it again?
I straightened, lifting her from the wall and widening my stance to stay steady. There was some weight to her but not much. She felt so small I could probably cart her around all day with no problem, not that I was holding her up much. Her legs were still clamped around me, those hard-ass boots digging into my lower back. I doubt she even realized it.
My thumb swiped across her cheek again, the rest of my fingers curved around the back of her neck. The fine hair there was damp, the skin somewhat cooled. My other hand left her thigh and landed on her back. Her build was narrow and I could almost reach all the way across with my palm flat against her. The girl didn't react to the touch and I wondered what it would take to get her moving.
I ran my hand up her back lightly, gently. The fabric of her hoodie was soft and well-worn, the lean muscles underneath tight and trembling. Drawing my hand down again, I felt along the slightly raised bumps of her spine. My chin rested on her shoulder, mouth so close to the sensitive skin I had been enjoying just minutes ago. I could still taste the salt of her sweat, clean and without the usual grime most wastelanders had. I wanted to taste her again, rip this ridiculous sweatshirt off and touch more of that soft skin—my tongue curled behind my teeth just thinking about it—but that wouldn't help in calming her down.
I continued the motions, wiping away her tears and rubbing her back, fingers gently pressing and kneading the tense muscles. Just when I started to feel stupid and think this shit wasn't working, her body gave one last shudder before relaxing. She sighed, her limp arms flexing then bending to lay those small hands on my shoulders and her head lifting just enough to settle more comfortably against my neck. Huh, interesting.
Her tears had finally dried up and the shaking stopped. Now, I just had to get her out of this passive mood and back in fighting form. And the best way to do that…
I turned my head into her, my nose brushing the shell of her ear. "Sam."
She jumped at the sound of my voice then tensed. It was the first time I'd said her name and I don't think she liked it much. Good.
"Talk to me, Sam," I said, my tone taunting. She still didn't respond so I decided to up my game.
"What's wrong, raider got your tongue?"
I gave into the urge to taste her and licked a quick line up her neck. She gasped, her thighs clenching around my waist and blunt nails digging into my skin. I rolled that salty flavor around in my mouth, unable to stop the grin. Now that was very interesting but still not the reaction I was looking for.
My fingers jabbed firmly—but not too firmly—into her ribs, making her flinch. "Don't tell me this is all it takes to break you."
Her nails dug deeper, a rumble sounding from her at my mocking. A little growl. Cute. Just a bit more should do it.
"C'mon chicken," I murmured low in her ear, giving another jab. "Where'd the fight in you go—"
Pain lanced up my neck, cutting the words off with a startled grunt. The girl's mouth was latched onto me, her full set of choppers clamping down on the muscle with a surprising amount of force. Shit, she was actually biting me—like an angry kitten.
"That's more like it," I chuckled despite the pain. "Thought you were—"
Another grunt strained out of me, her teeth sinking in harder. The pain was sharp and constant, my grunt turning into a snarl at the needlelike stabbing. I staggered, bracing a hand on the wall behind her and fisting the back of her shirt in the other. I wanted to tear her off me but resisted. It was my brilliant idea to provoke her and I could handle her little kitten fangs—not like I didn't deserve it—but damn if it wasn't doing something for me. Her lean body taut, nails and teeth cutting angrily into my skin, the small but firm breasts pressing tight to my chest as she held on with the intent to hurt. It made my dick twitch in my pants, the softening length beginning to stiffen again.
I bit back a groan. Fuck, it felt good but this wasn't the direction I wanted to go.
"If you're tryin' to work me up for round two, you're doin' a damn good job," I growled, letting my jaw snap with a click.
Sam reared back and I did groan this time, the release of her bite leaving a stinging relief. She pushed against my chest with both hands, elbows locked and leaning away as far as she could, her legs still stuck around me like duct tape.
"Don't fucking call me that!" she yelled, her mouth twisted in a snarl and a smear of red on her lips.
Her eyes didn't burn as bright as before but smoldered darkly. Real anger without the fear, I realized. Guess I must've hit a nerve.
"God, you're such an asshole," she continued, her voice rasping. "Can you just shut up and give me a fucking minute?"
Oh yeah, she was pissed. Three cuss words in as many sentences—unusual for her. It was hard not to notice her way of talking, clear and proper with little vulgarity. Riling her up to the point of cursing gave me some sort of satisfaction.
I narrowed my eye at her in a sneer. "I already gave you a minute—"
"I need another one!"
The almost desperate tone in her angry snapping made me take a look at her. In the low light of the cabin, I could see the subtle blush coloring her cheeks, the short hair messed around her pixie-like face. That blue-grey stare was still angry but lined with a tiredness and her mouth was parted as she panted. She looked worked over and sated, those pouty lips red with blood. My blood. Fuck if that wasn't the hottest shit ever. I wanted to lick it off her, the front of my pants tightening.
I moved to do just that, my hand gripping the back of her neck to pull her in. Her expression crumpled immediately, a quiet whimper falling from those lips and her small hands twisting in my harness. I paused, that nervousness creeping down my spine again.
Today had been a long fucking day. This little girl had pushed my buttons—poking and prodding despite her fear of me—but I'd pushed her harder. She was a fighter, bouncing back like she did, but now she was done. If I pushed anymore she might not recover as easily. Thank fuck I held back earlier and didn't do what I had wanted to.
I exhaled loudly through my nose and pulled her head down to my shoulder. She made a sound of protest, body tensed and waiting for the next thing to happen. I just held her there silently and eventually she relaxed again, sighing warmly against my skin.
The nervousness faded and I felt relieved. Having her lay on me so calmly, it was almost as enjoyable as her kicking and screaming. Her fighting got my blood pumping but this felt…
"You'll take the bed," I said abruptly, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. She tensed up once more, shrinking into herself as much as she could.
"I'll take the floor." The words came out of me softer, gentler.
My hand automatically ran over her back soothingly and she melted into me. It yanked at something in my chest and I could hear my own voice laughing manically in my head.
Fuck. This girl was making me soft. I wanted to rage against it and beat my chest like a damn barbarian. The world was cruel and if you wanted to survive in it you had to be more so. Still, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't the most content I'd ever felt, with her nearly pliant in my arms. Now I understood why the boss was so attached to her.
Sam, the little sniper girl. She was snappy, defiant, innocent, tempting. The raider in me wanted to play with her, break her, rip away that innocence, but another part… another part wanted her to look at me the same way she looked at Nate. Craved it.
The laughter got louder, madly mocking me for the mess I've found myself in.
Shit. I was so fucked.