Ahzrukhal had been in an extremely foul mood as of late, pushing Charon to break more bones on unruly customers than Barrows could stand to mend. The ghoul doctor had finally come upstairs to set his authority straight after Patchwork had been admitted with both arms missing, the conversation between the two tense and stiff. Ahzrukhal had then cleared the bar (a very rare thing to do), locked his inventory away, and summoned Charon with that waggling finger.
"We're going to conduct some business. I'll give you ten minutes."
This always led the bouncer downstairs to Tulip's, an array of ammo boxes and explosives purchased without a single word uttered between them.
Traveling the wastes with his employer was always a major pain in the ass. Ahzrukhal walked the streets as though he owned them, not cautious of the lurking dangers or the inevitable threats just looming around the corner. It forced Charon to always be one step ahead- dealing death unto enemies that he may have simply skirted around to save on ammo and time.
The ferals and super mutants tended to leave them alone, but raiders always had to go and pick a losing fight. Charon had blown their heads clean off their shoulders, leaving a sole raider woman sniveling in the dirt with a mangled leg, courtesy of a grenade he had gifted them. He stepped up to her, intending on snuffing the life from her eyes when his employer came around from behind the safety of his shield.
"Tie her up," he rasped, his voice unusually garbled.
Charon did as told, securing her wrists behind her back and leaving her to inhale the earth.
"Go wait over there, keep watch. I don't want anything to interrupt."
Charon's expression had never been so perfectly carved from stone. He obeyed, watching the landscape for any hint of danger as he was forced to listen to the labored breathing and grunts, the screaming muffled before it eventually reduced to sobs.
A snap of fingers. He turned back around. She was slathered in snot and tears, her voice hoarse and eyes dull.
"Deal with it."
A raise of his gun, and they continued on.
Northwest Seneca station took much longer to arrive at than it did when he journeyed solo. For a brief second, he glanced around for that shimmer of color...she was not there. He did not know what to expect- it had been weeks since he had last seen her. He figured she was six feet under somewhere, the worms recycling her into dirt.
Ahzrukhal preached his sermon to a pair of nonbelievers, his wish of a discounted price for being a loyal business partner going unheeded.
"Are you crazy?" Murphy had rasped, Barrett at his side with an itchy trigger finger. Charon would have to take him out first. "That's a lowball offer. You can find someone else to supply-"
"I do apologize," Ahzrukhal interrupted, fiddling with his tarnished cufflink. "I had assumed you knew this was not a negotiation." He then waggled two fingers, and Charon recited the scripture like a faithful little choir boy.
Barrett took some lead to the shoulder, not adequate to kill, but pain worthy enough to get the point across. Murphy braved a few fists and lost more teeth than he could afford to, finally cracking under his own blood that dripped from Charon's knuckles. It dribbled back into his mouth as he croaked an understanding.
They walked up the steps, embracing the overhead of dark clouds...and a trio from Talon Company, the Capital Wasteland's most notorious mercenary gang. They questioned the whereabouts of a certain smoothskin with a nice price on her head.
"We heard she sometimes comes through here, does trade with a couple of ghouls. Seen her lately?"
Ahzrukhal gave a sleazy smile, never one to undermine a business opportunity when it presented itself. "Perhaps...who's inquiring?"
"Ow," Evelyn muttered under her breath, another bobby pin breaking at her fingertips as she tried to wiggle the lock to the cabinet open. "Little bastard. I swear to God, you'll show me your wares..."
Another pin broke, another curse. She wiped the sweat from her forehead on the back of her arm, swapped her tongue from one side of her cheek to the other, and blindly fished for another in her pack before trying again.
It finally gave a shit-eating grin of a click, and she swung it open and began to assort through its inventory with sticky gremlin fingers. A scotch, whiskey, and wine. All perfect bids for Jenny Stahl, the Brass Lantern eatery proprietor, to deal on. She carefully wrapped them in individual pieces of clothing she had found earlier, snuggled them tightly in her bag, and cinched the strap down to begin combing over the rest of the rubble.
Springvale ruins was a perfect picking ground for minor finds- she had no idea exactly why she had never bothered to roam around it before...perhaps the holed-up raider gang at the Springvale Elementary School had something to do with it. Probably. Maybe. More than likely.
A giant shadow loomed over her as she foraged inside a garbage can, sending her into a premature grave from cardiac arrest. When she spun around with a shoddy combat knife in hand, she glanced up from beneath the brim of her hat to the ghoul she had not had a reunion with since that steamy memorial visit.
Charon was staring at the shitty weapon she so confidently wielded at him, slowly raising a brow as he drew his eyes to her face.
It had been a solid month since she had the chance encounter of meeting him again and-wait, hold on. Chance encounter? All the fucking way out here?!
Her eyes wildly flit back and forth. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Awesome. Smooth. No, it's nice to see you again, or, wanna pick up where we left off? Or, even better, thanks for not blowing my head off behind my back, do others get the same courtesy?
Judging by the blood on his uniform, she supposed not.
Her mouth opened, a word in her throat, but a piece of folded paper was thrust at her. She swallowed her question and looked at the message being held an inch from her face.
"Uhm, what is that?" she asked dumbly.
"A message," he responded dryly.
"Yeah, I fucking know that," she snapped, taking the paper that was being so rudely shoved into her eyes. She unfolded it, her knife still in hand and being held a little too close to her face as she pulled the lettering under her nose. "Why? What is-?"
She glanced up only to find that he was already leaving.
"Hey! Hey!" She broke into a jog, the action much too déjà vu worthy to be comfortable. "Was that it?!"
He paused, turned slightly to face her, and spoke in the most monotone voice she had ever heard another human being muster. "Your business is with Ahzrukhal."
She nabbed at his bicep before he walked away again, instantly dropping it when he whipped a glare at her. "I'm not talking about my business with him- I want to-oh my God, really?!"
Charon was setting off once more, completely ignoring her existence. She crossed her arms and seethed at the blatant rejection- did he just hate her now, or something?!
"Fine," she called out at his back. "Not like I care, just leave!"
She sheathed her knife (for her own safety) and briefly entertained herself by angrily blowing an eardrum-splitting tune on a rusted-out harmonica she had found, the note hastily read.
Have you forgotten my proposition? I suggest you do not delay, as there have been recent inquests I'm looking to give favor to.
-A
No, she didn't forget. She was so close to collecting all two thousand that the caps had to be moved to their own fucking duffel bag. She turned the note over, a bloodstain making the penmanship barely legible...it read like some sort of bounty.
Caucasian. Female. Evelyn. One thousand fucking caps! What the hell did she do?!
She snapped her head around when the shadow engulfed her a second time. Oh, boy...he was mad.
"I was not the one who had left," he rasped.
The response was growled so spitefully that she dropped her newfound musical hobby to the dirt. They then just stood there, his entire face creased together in a snarl and hers blank from shock. When it appeared she was too stupid to give a proper response, he swiveled around and stalked off, presumably returning to Underworld.
She licked her lips, regaining some sense (mostly stupidity), and called out once more. "You're the one leaving now."
That made him instantly halt. He came back around so fast she flinched into a corner of skewed boards and an open fridge.
A finger was pointed directly in her face, his tone anything but friendly. "Do not push me."
She obediently kept her mouth shut, staring up into that cold face of murder until she was reminded of the note in her possession. It was waved around like a flag. "What the fuck is this? Who-"
"It is none of my concern," he dismissed her bluntly.
She motioned with a hand to their impromptu meeting spot. "That's why you came all the way out here? To tell me-"
"Talk with Ahzrukhal," he interrupted her again, this time with a sharp edge to his tone.
Okay, she got it, loud and clear. Obviously, he didn't handle her ghosting last time too well...she could take a hint. It's all she did do back in the Vault.
"Fine, fuck you too," she simmered. "I guess I should be thanking you for not robbing me this time."
His face came so close that she had to plunk her ass on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Both of his hands braced on each side of the gutted appliance, effectively trapping her in place. "I did not have to interfere. Remember that."
"I remember other things pretty well," she rushed without even filtering first. When he stared at her silently, she smacked her jaw shut and burned beet red.
The ghoul slowly backed away, and then not-so-subtly looked around, erupting a hot bloom in her underwear. Was he seriously-?
"It is not safe here," he concluded, his statement said so firmly she almost burst out laughing.
"Didn't stop you before." Once again, she wished she had to input an enter key to vocalize her thoughts. "I-I have a house...just over the hill."
It was forced out so painfully shy she turned away. When he didn't respond or make a move, she mustered the courage to glance at him. He was very still, seemingly gauging the offer. A sharp nod of his head. Lead, I will follow.
"Oh, uhm, uh, okay," she said dumbly.
She awkwardly stepped around him, slipping on some loose gravel and righting herself without any ounce of grace. She tried to ignore the fact she had this monstrous ghoul a few feet behind her, following her to have...she couldn't even finish her own thought, the notion sure to make her lightheaded and faint. She felt like the eyes of the world were staring at her as they came to the gates.
Hey, we're about to have sex!
Could they read her face, could they tell? She whipped her head around, catching his eyes. He looked...bored. So absolutely fucking uninterested in what they were about to do. Did he do this often? He was old, probably, so she assumed he had experience.
The town sheriff, good ol' Lucas Simms, intercepted them before the winding curve leading up to her place. Oh no, he was going to find out they were about to commit the deed-
"Hey there," he said with an easy flash of a smile at herself and a warning to his teeth at Charon. "I see your friend here found you. He came poking around, said he had a message to relay...you getting along okay?"
"Uh." She again looked over her shoulder. The ghoul was regarding everything, his expression unchanging. "Y-yeah, we're good. Thanks." We're about to go to pound town...I think.
"Alright, holler if you need anything." Simms gave a tip of his hat, and she mimicked in kind before he trudged back down the hill.
Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't even get the key in the lock for a few minutes, and when it finally swung open, she just as quickly dipped inside.
"Wait here," she gushed, and slammed it shut before she spun around to yell upstairs. "Wadsworth!"
"Yes, Madam! Welcome home! What do-"
"Please go deactivate," she commanded as she flew into a flurry, chucking empty boxes of InstaMash in the bin and furiously scrubbing dishes in the sink.
"Oh, why do I even bother..." he muttered as he hovered down the steps to rest at his station.
Shit, I have all that crap on the table-do I move the mattress upstairs-I probably smell awful-ohmyGODIhaven'tshavedindays-
The door whined on its hinges as it opened, and she squeaked in surprise as the ghoul rudely invited himself inside. He had to duck his head and dip a shoulder through the frame, his comical entrance comparable to an oversized action figure being forced into a tiny dollhouse. He closed it, his glowing eyes sweeping over the disarray to then circle back on her.
She wiped her sudsy palms down the length of her vault suit, oh so nervous with her heart battering away at her ribcage. "So, um, do you, uh-"
Charon unholstered his shotgun and came forward to set it on the table, his boot nudging the mattress to the side. His hands rested at his buckle, and he began to undo his attire from the waist down. Apparently, he wasn't too shy.
She stared like a wide-eyed mouth breather, unable to look away as the innermost secrets to the ghoul's family jewels were presented to her with a most...sizeable display. Wow. It wasn't the first dick she'd seen, (if that accidental walk-in on Wally Mack's prostate exam in her father's clinic had anything of weight to it), but it was...distinguishable. Veiny. Red.Long & Thick™. She could pick it out in a line-up faster than-
She snapped out of it as she realized he was still standing there, staring at her. Right. With a numbness in her fingertips, she set the hat and Pip-Boy aside, clumsily undid her braid, and began to shake out her wavy hair as he stepped towards her, his pants shunted past his thighs and cock standing tall and proud. There was a glistening bead of liquid at the tip that dribbled down the shaft with every violent throb it made. His gloved palm wrapped underneath her jaw.
"Take off your clothes," he rasped, and then he bent down to embrace her in a kiss.
It was certainly messy, but not as uncoordinated as the previous times. He seemed to be figuring out what he liked, lots of tongue, less teeth. She barely pulled her suit off one shoulder before he sloppily pulled away and clamped his mouth around her throat, inviting the intrusive thought of he's also a fucking vampire-?!
Regardless, she rewarded him with a soft little moan, and he seemed to eat the treat right out of her hand, for he dragged his tongue up her neck and tugged at her lips a second time in hopes of more. Her boots were shunted to the side as she kicked them away, her hands roving blindly as she peeled her suit and underwear from her body.
He removed himself, stared at her naked skin like a famished man receiving a delectable meal, and then swallowed a nipple with a hard bite of his teeth.
"Ow!" she yelped as she squirmed under his heavy, rough hands.
A grope here, a squeeze there- he wrapped his arms around her to cup the cheeks of her ass in both palms and lifted her off the ground.
"H-hey!" she stammered, eliciting a loud oof as she was smashed into the bedding with none-too-gentle assertiveness.
The upper half of his body was still covered, the metal of his armor clinking together and the leather straps rubbing her cheek, his head craned over and breath swamping her face. A press of something hard began to prod in a very wrong place, and she panicked and smacked him in the chest. He immediately halted, snapping his eyes at her with a hint of annoyance.
She wrapped one leg around the backside of his thigh. "Okay-"
Another jut of his hips before she could align him properly, and he overshot, his cock sliding along the slickness of her cunt and smearing it over her clit and the lower half of her tummy. The sensation curled her toes and sank a tooth in her bottom lip, and he didn't seem to realize he wasn't even inside of her yet as he kept humping her into the bedding. He wasn't making a single sound, the breathy whimpers escaping her being lost amidst the tumult of his gear clanking and the sad exhale of her mattress with every thrust he pounded.
"Wait-wait-" she breathed out, the urge for him to continue almost overriding the simple desire to have him fill her completely. He growled as he reluctantly stopped, propping himself upright just as she reached down and grabbed his dick.
It was so hot and slippery and meaty that she held on tight, having him respond to the pressure with his fingers digging into the blankets and his jaw clenching so hard the muscles popped. With a lift of her hips, she directed the tip at the right entrance, and he obliged her assistance with a solid stab.
No one had ever talked about the pain. She cried out, clawing at his shoulders with desperation and screwing her eyes shut as she was being stretched. She went to open her mouth, tell him to stop, it's too much, too fast, but he had already withdrawn and slapped his girth back over her clit, a hot, gooey string spiderwebbing across her stomach and breasts.
One look at his pinched face told her he was somewhere not of this world- he shivered, his breathing ragged like he was fatally wounded, and he rolled to the side while snorting and brusquely rubbing at his eyes.
Evelyn looked down at the gift he had left behind, inquisitively smearing a few fingers in it. Gross.
The dip on his side of the mattress raised up as he stood, his back to her as he went about tucking himself away and then reaching for his gun. He appeared the same as when he had entered- indifferent.
She blinked as he strode to the door, his hand turning the knob as she spoke her insecurities with a timid voice. "Was...it, um, good?"
He looked at her- a hot mess with his cum lacing her tits- and nodded. "It was."
He then left, and she plopped back on the bedding to stare at the hole in her ceiling. Well. That was something, and she wasn't quite sure what.