He was sore; sore and tired. Sleeping here on the floor, only a foot below the 'bitch' was at first a bit more droll than annoying. If anything he'd felt smugger when she'd pushed him out of bed for keeping her up with what he told her and himself was male-prowess. Something about that look the 'bald fuck' gave him early this morning had put him out to prove a point; and prove it he did - so much so that he'd had to pushed some of the bed sheets in her mouth at one point, just to shut her up. He was proving a point to himself and her after all, not the whole fuckin' populace.
'Scream..scream, scream, all she ever does..'
The hard filthy floor was even more uncomfortable than sleeping on the rocks in the wasteland. He shut his eyes, finally feeling the lethargy leave him; replaced with a familiar clear upper. He was awake now - no going back to sleep and now he had nothing to do, unless he wanted to try a hand at fucking with her again. 'Doubt she'd go for that again…'
With a heave and a few cracks of his joints he towered over the bed and the conked out vault girl, reading the bright LED lights on her arm-contraption. It was a few minutes till ten in the morning, and knowing her ability to sleep he could expect to be waiting around for a few more hours...at least….if he was lucky. 'Should've let me finish you off another time...cocktease..'
He gave her one last sullen look before turning on his heel with a grumble and stomping down the stairs, not caring if he was obnoxiously noisy. She could sleep through it anyways...'bitch'
It was hotter down stairs; the air feeling near smoldering even in his under shirt and pants. With some scratchy fingers he plucked at his thin black shirt, puffing some air under the tight material as he sank down on her dilapidated couch. His shotgun bounced next to him, where he left it last night before chasing the girl upstairs. He smirked, remembering the little fake sequels she gave when he bolt up to catch her.
'Don't think about it...just find something else to do, something difficult…something distracting….'
He needed to get out of this shit-hole soon. Being around her in the company of other smoothskins was taking its toll on him. He much preferred fucking her in between watching her beat the shit out of things; not touching other shuffler's hands or attracting unwanted attention from old ex-raiders.
As he mentally calculated all the reasons why this little hell-hole was even worse than the corner Azrukhal stuck him in, he started running his fingers over the warm weathered metal of his shotgun- tracing the dents and scratches along the barrel, all the way along to the stock-hilt. At least his shotgun was constant; reliable. The gun in his hands only changed when he wanted it to...or at least he knew why and how if it did change. The 'bitch' on the other hand slipped from emotion to emotion, persona to persona at a whim.
Without really thinking he began to dismantle the old weapon, getting back into the calming habit of cleaning it. Normally, before the girl, it didn't see much use. He used his hands normally back at the Ninth Circle, not 'normally' having to pull a gun on anyone - no one had the balls to make 'that' big of scene.
It was good and bad that he'd had to use it so often. On the up side, he holey enjoyed firing it, the down side was it was an old-bird; seen too much action. The grit inside was already spilling over his thighs when he unclicked the port from the magazine.
"Sorry baby..", he shook out the sand and fingered along the inside of the barrel, thinking back to the look the 'bald fuck' had given him. Did the shit for brains really think he could pull that with him? Even if he was a ghoul, he was at least a foot taller than the spit-fuck.
Raiders always got on his nerves, such terrible shots that they had to attack in groups to take even one person down. He'd had some good times in the old days, pulling the trigger in some of their stomachs. A particularly good memory emerged and he sat back a moment, visualizing it to its fullest. The heat of the room added to the vividness…
…..coming around a corner in an over-run gore house - six raiders down behind him and two left. The employer was waiting outside, impatient fuck. He slid against a wall, keeping to the shadows, when a small male whimper signaled down the hallway to his right. It was like clockwork; turning, shooting - blood. Then the bullet from the last one standing struck against his neck, fueling the adrenaline in his veins with a hard pain. The last one made a similar whimper his dead buddy coughed out, after the chamber in his pistol clicked empty in his face. The sound close enough to his warped nose that his ears rung. The lips on his face stretched and ripped, grinning like a zombie out for brains before he shoved his hot shotgun into the man's belly, breaking the skin and firing - ripping out chunks and spewing them along the walls. A thump of fleshy noise later and the room was clear; order complete…
Slowly, with the sound of bare feet hitting the steps behind him he cracked his eyes open, body still buzzing with the flashback. He felt blood-hungry, but let it pass as the steps grew closer and the presence behind him stopped. 'Perfect timing..' He had a hard-on, but not from thoughts of her for once - so he arched forward, knowing if she saw the bulge she'd smugly think it was due to her.
"What are you up for?", her voice was rude; tired.
"What are 'you' up for?", he repeated, sitting back farther against the couch and resuming the intimate task with his gun.
He didn't hear anything out of her so he just stared through the barrel in his fingers and puffed some air threw it casually. She passed by in front of him, marring the image of the shelves before him. A depression in the couch caused him to sink to the right as she sat down by him. He grumbled and shifted away from her, adjusting himself before going back to inspecting the barrel. Still she didn't say anything, but he could feel her eyes all over him, burning him like harsh rays.
'Don't look at her. She wants you to look at her…..don't give her the satisfaction.'
To be annoyed by her now would be giving into her...so he just continued to ignore her, thinking about what they'd be doing tonight. Hopefully they would be leaving, heading anywhere, as long as it was away from here. Another sink in the couch occurred and he fought the urge to look over at her. Her breathing came out in short little mewlings before she went quiet. A few minutes went by and she hadn't moved. His shotgun lay scattered in parts along his left and over his thighs as he finished picking at some crusty rust along the trigger. He had to look. 'damn you...you just can't give it up...'
He didn't turn his head at first, just pushed his eyes against the side of his sockets as far as he could without pulling the vessels behind his bulbs. She was sleeping, leaning her side against the back of the couch with her head lolled against the rim of the back. Her little mouth hung open, a shiny trace of drool along the side of her mouth. She didn't look like a 'bitch' now. Before, when he'd stopped thinking of her in a negative light he'd been confused - now he was just angry. The fact that she had the ability to change his views on her at a whim was absurd...
His head turned, staring at her more directly as he leaned back on the couch, closer to her. She was evil, nasty for fucking him and even a little pathetic, but he realized then - as he pushed an arm up over the couch and around her head to pull at a few strands of hair - that he'd hate her more if she'd been perfect. If she'd been sweet, fear-less and a self-respecting smoothskin he'd despised her; loathed her, even more than he did now. She was marred on the inside, while he was marred on the outside - and that almost made them the same.
The next few minutes, he paused and really looked at her. Ignored her inner flaws, her physical attributes and just watched her as she slept and breathed. Suddenly he froze, a thumb leaning over one curved eyebrow. She looked like someone...'She looks like….her.' The saliva in his mouth dried up instantly and his gut felt sore, as if someone had opened up a fresh wound. It wasn't the hair, definitely not, but it was the way she looked when she was asleep; the way she looked when she wasn't putting on a front...or maybe he was giving her too much credit, and she just was normally a bitch.
Still, his thumb ran along the fine hairs of that brow and slipped up into some loose hair covering her forehead. She twitched under his touch but didn't do more than move her lips before going still again. She reminded him of the women he'd been infatuated with before the bombs fell…but maybe he was just sleep-deprived…
'This is stupid, you need sleep, you're hallucinating...'
He frowned and kept his hand on her as he stared down at the shotgun on his lap. With his other hand he ran a thumb over the metal in conjunction with running the other in her hair. She was soft and he...he was hard, but inside they were both hard. In defeat, mentally and physically he let his head fall back over the edge of the couch; hand still buried on the top of her head. Slowly he pulled her head against the side of his chest, feeling her awaken slowly as he closed his eyes. 'She can squirm all she wants...she not going anywhere...'
To his surprise, she didn't move away, but pushed up closer. He felt a tightness around his chest and realized she was wrapping her arms around him. The grip around him loosened after a few moments but stayed and a hot moist sensation started against his side as she started to breath in and against him. It felt nice...
'It is nice...'
He had an itch to spoil this; to push her off him and go upstairs to steal the bed before she could make a scene, but it started to fade when her nose nuzzled against the muscles that started his right pectoral. Too soon it seemed she stilled and fell asleep. He stayed awake a little longer, eyes still shut - actually enjoying the feel of her against him in a none-sexual way. Just the feeling of her smooth, delicate form huddled up against him was in its own way, oddly satisfying. If she'd leaned up and kissed him, he figured he wouldn't mind that either.
Soon he started feeling fuzzy with the sensation of sleep and without knowing when or how - he fell asleep with the 'bitch' curled up against him on the couch...with his shotgun still pulled apart over his lap.
Some obtrusive noise jolted him awake, which in turn seemed to be what woke up the girl. She made an almost pained noise before staring wide-eyed at the door to the left of the couch. Someone was hammering on the door; coughing and banging away. He was about to get up himself and shoot whoever it was to make such a loud assaulting noise when he fumbled groggily with the parts still poised on his thighs. He snatched at the barrel before it clattered to the floor as he turned his head, watching the girl stride to the vibrating door.
'Always something…she needs to tell whoever it is to fuck off…'
He frowned, strangely annoyed that their little 'moment' had been spoiled. He'd planned on waking her up with something more than a "good morning".
The door creaked and screamed, letting in a light that nearly blinded him, even though most of the sun was blocked by her figure and who ever it was at the door. The sounds for a moment were muffled, slow until she spoke loud enough for him to hear her clear as day.
"Cut the brahmin shit, what the fuck do you want?", her tone was barking and short. He turned an eye up to the door as he locked the barrel with the magazine.
He heard a male muffled slur; the tone was a cross between an insult and a question. He stopped in mid- latch as he stared fully at the door, watching the dark outline of the girl as some equally dark figure turned and shifted before him in the light. 'Who the fuck...it's him...the fuckin' raider.' He let out an unnatural growl and stood, not even bothering to be gentle as he tossed half of his shotgun on the couch.
"You gonna leh me in or whah?" He paused, watching as the girl arched backwards, avoiding some intrusion of her personal space. He heard her start to speak, a shrill sound leaving her mouth before it was cut off by a loud, less slurred male voice. "..or is that shuffler still in there with you? huh?" The man started to yell, pushing farther through the door judging by the back step the girl took. "Fuckin' zombie camping under yur bed!"
He saw red. Not caring that he practically threw the girl off the door and ripped his fists into the now clear face of the 'bald fuck'. The spit-fuck's eyes were wide but still stupidly angry. He smelt of booze and piss, probably drinking since he'd seen the shit on the balcony much earlier.
"Don't think I heard you with my dick in your mouth." He seethed, teeth clenched. The short spit-fuck rubbed him the wrong way the first time he saw him, and now he had an excuse to rip the ears out of his head.
The ex-raider looked baffled a moment, but too drunk to run with his tail between his legs. The asshole was even more hideous up close - the sight almost made him feel handsome...
"I ain't gonna be under handed by a fuckin' meat bag...", the shit wasn't yelling any more, he sounded just as angry as he was. Something bothered him about his tone, as if he'd been cheated out of something, and he almost got the feeling that the ex-raider knew what he was missing.
"You want some of this?", he threatened, constricting his throat so the muscles and veins bulged which turned his voice even more unhealthy and in-human. It wasn't even about the 'bitch' anymore, this was pure unadulterated male ego. He needed to beat him into a paste; unrecognizable. His fists constricted in the spit-fucks collar, ripping some of the seams before he released him with a push. The ex-raider stumbled, but not as much as he would have liked. The shit looked like he worked well on his liquor...
He felt a pressure on the back of his side. The girl was looking up at him, a look of malice on her face - though he could see some wariness hidden in the side of her eyes. She'd fucked this ex-raider at one point...he knew it. The look on her face told him she fucked him and instead of it making him feel cheap like he thought it would it just made him puff up more. His muscles tensed and expanded - the urge to make a point and horde what was his like some alpha Yao-guai came over him. She was his, and if he couldn't go back and slug this spit-fuck right in the face the first time he'd banged on the door then he would do it now.
It seemed the shit had similar plans, with a sharp intake of breath he narrowly avoided a fist to the face. His head lurched to the side and he had just enough time to growl before nearly hugging the ex-raider and tossing him inside the dim house. The man stumbled and the girl slammed the door shut behind them. He heard her lean back on the metal frame and knew she was going to remain where she was and watch like some special treat the boys were fighting over.
'She can think whatever the fuck she wants..'
The spit-fuck turned, teeth barred in a scowl just as tarnished as his own before aiming a quick punch to his stomach. The blow hit his side, but was weak enough that he could counter a strong smack to the side of the 'bald fuck's' face. He was bigger in every way than this man, and he almost felt disappointed he wasn't more of a challenge. Already the guy looked a little too wary to be up against him. 'Won't last five more minutes.' Still though, the ex-raider didn't fall, but grunted and stumbled with his back facing him.
He didn't expect his own shot gun hitting him across the face, he had to give the shit credit for that.
The metal slit a cut in his cheek and bruised one of his eyes. 'Fuck!' He grunted in pain, blinded half-way but able to catch the half-assembled shot gun in one hand before the shit struck him again.
He barely heard the 'bitch' behind him mutter a yell. With one hand ripping his gun out of the guys hand and the other pushing the girl back against the door roughly he then swung the butt of his gun like a bat into the forehead of the ex-raider. The guy's head whipped back, along with a spray of blood that gushed with a similar cut that he'd just received.
'That's right...that's it.'
The spit-fuck fell back, toppled over a table and spilling old empty Nuka-colas on top of himself. He watched him, breathing heavily with pent up rage and the burning along the left side of his face, as the man grasped his bleeding forehead. The grunt of pain made him smile.
He stepped up and swung a leg back, slamming it into the 'bald fuck's' side with a thick sound. The man cried out, coughed and grabbed at his leg as he went to kick him again. With a rough shake he was freed, stomping down on the ex-raider's shoulder with furry and all the strength he could muster. He heard the shoulder crack; either in breaking or dislocating he couldn't tell - he just cared about the scream it produced.
He kicked him once more, in the limp arm, getting another shaky cry from the man before placing a boot on his neck. He eased the pressure down slowly, watching as the shit's burnt face stared painfully up at him. A gurgle sounded under his foot as he kept the pressure firm, glaring down at him as the man started to choke.
"Charon...", he ignored her. Adrenaline was coursing through him, singing along his arms and legs and making everything that wasn't pleasant, numb. The look on the spit-fuck's face was changing from angry to terrified very quickly.
"If you kill him were going to be in big trouble...Simms...Simms will know, they'll all know it was us." 'You mean me…bitch.' He felt her hand on his arm, pulling it from his side where it had hung limply. All his energy was being put into his own leg, tensing with the pressure he was keeping over the man's neck. Again he heard a gurgled choke and grinned. His face darkened, eyes shimmering, even the one that was starting to redden with the broken blood vessels. He wanted to slowly kill him, not that the shit necessarily deserved it...
"You've hurt 'more' than his arm...", she tugged, being cautious he could tell. She was right though, he hurt his pride, which is what he wanted to do more than physically hurt him anyways. 'No way he'll come scampering back around here…around her again..' He grunted, letting his body loosen, as well as the tension in his leg. Slowly and almost hesitantly he removed his boot from the ex-raider's neck. The man sputtered and gasped, reaching with the only hand that worked up to his neck where he pawed. The flesh was bruised and puffy. It was satisfying, just watching as the spit-fuck crawled halfway to the door, able to stand only briefly before collapsing again.
He didn't turn around to watch him stumble out the door, just kept his head to the side, seeing the blurry shapes out of his peripherals as the girl opened the door for the ex-raider to hurry as fast as he could with his pride dangling by a thread. It took a moment for her to shut the door; for the light to filter out the room and turn the dwelling back into its normally dim state.
The door locked with a click and then everything was eerily quiet. He was still pent up, he'd garnered all that aggression so he could crush the man's neck without care and now his blood was ripping through him like a speeding bullet, not slowly down fast enough.
Her presence came up on him slow, but his reaction to her was anything but. Before she could finish saying what she'd started with that open mouth of her he'd grabbed her, pulled her against him and shoved his now bloody ruined lips against hers. His hand found her ass and squeezed, getting a pained groan out of her. He busted her lip with his own judging by the taste of blood that wasn't his own touching his tongue.
With a hitch of her thigh up against his hip he pressed her roughly down into the couch, dust pushing up around them as he laid into her without mercy.
'I'm anything but done.'
I almost feel bad for Jericho, I do like him, I just like Charon much more. :)