Chapter Text
She’s knows he’s watching her. That his eyes follow her from room to room as Marcus shows her Jacobstown like the gracious host he is. It could be her admirer thinks he is more subtle than he really is. Doesn’t bother her, though, she’s used to being watched.
After she’s finished with Marcus, it’s onto Doctor Henry, who feeds her a lot of bull about stealth-boys and nightstalkers. She’s never liked doctors. But like a good girl she waits, chews her gum, tries not to smack it too loud against her tongue. Maybe she’ll run his errands, maybe not. More than anything she just wanted to make contact. Maybe see why Arcade brought this guy up when there was no reason to.
The gum goes stale in her mouth before too long. She tosses it. Smokes a cigarette outside instead so she’s doing something with her mouth. From here she can still make out the skyline of the Strip. Only because it’s elevated and the sky is real clear. Already it feels more like home than anywhere else she’s ever been. She aches to go back. That feeling might not last, but right now it’s heavy in her chest.
He’s still watching her. His footfall is heavy and he’s far too large. Everything else moves around him despite how carefully he steps. But she can’t bring herself to fear him. Doesn’t know much about super mutants. Hell, a few months ago it could be said she didn’t know much about anything. Knows he’s a nightkin and not all of them are nightkin. That might mean he’s a little unhinged.
“You smoke?” She holds out her pack of cigarettes, waiting for him to respond. Got hands as big as her fucking head so she’s not sure he could get one out of the package, let alone light it. So in a gesture of, well, something, she takes out one stick and holds that out instead. The paper of it looks particularly white against her painted nails.
“The doctor wants you to help with his experiments.” His voice isn’t pleasant, that’s for sure.
Jill sort of hates that she made the offer of friendship now because she’s not sure she wants to hear him talk. Makes her teeth hurt. But she’s supposed to be all hospitality now that she’s the Courier so she gives it another go.
“Yeah, said the stealth-boys are wrecking you.” She puts out her cigarette against the wood planks of the lodge before lighting the one he didn’t take. Somewhere she read they’re supposed to calm nerves. Somewhere else she said they make people all wired. All she knows is she likes the taste of the smoke. Has since she was twelve or so.
“They do not ‘wreck’ us, they make us more than we are. Better than the likes of Marcus. He thinks about moderation. But that is not in our nature.”
At that she laughs, so full and thick the mutant takes a step back. “You don’t have a nature. Aren’t you all abominations? Science projects from the start? Shit. If I were you I’d spend all my time getting fucked up too.” She grabs at the red scarf around his neck and tugs it.
His giant hand comes up and bats her smaller one away. Bares his teeth like he’s some great big blue beast. Maybe he thinks he is, but these were people once. And people don’t scare Jill. People are the scariest fucking things on the planet. Fuck, people fucked up this planet so bad they made shit like this mutant and she still isn’t afraid.
When she just smiles and grabs at his scarf again he goes so wide-eyed and weird she’s already making plans to do it again. He obviously hates it. Dances right up to the edge of snapping on her, but he hasn’t done it yet.
“Don’t you know what I am, what I could do to you? Little girl?” That horrid voice again in her ears.
She hasn’t been a girl for a good many years. Supposedly none of the mutants have been men all that recently either.
“You could try. But I don’t think you’d get very far.” Tossing her cigarette in the dirt, she leaves the odd mutant behind.
--
He thinks he’s subtle, like he knows how to not be seen. But if he really knew, he wouldn’t need those stealth-boys he’s jonesing for. Because he’s not as good as he thinks, she hears the door creak open, the sound of his heavy feet on the floorboards. She’s got a pistol under her pillow, but even if she didn’t, she’d be just fine. Big thing like that isn’t worth getting scared over.
Keeps her breath slow and even. Tries to trick him into thinking she’s asleep. But it’s not necessary because he kneels by her bedside. Puts his hands on his thighs. Just stares. In silence he watches her. Odd thing, he is.
Next to her bed, even knelt down, he’s huge. Massive chest and arms almost as big as Jill’s waist. Bald headed, exposed teeth, and breathing like a Brahmin after a marathon. Vile, and she’s vile for thinking about it. Thinking about what those hands the size of dinner plates would look like curled in the sheets of this starch-white bed she sleeps in.
His eyes are on her, intent, unblinking. What is it he’s trying to accomplish? Like she could claim to speak for another. Cracking one eye open, then the other, she gazes back. When he’s seen, rather, when he knows he’s seen, he falters. Sits back on his heels and looks like he might bolt. Instead he stays rooted in place. She reaches forward and tugs at his scarf.
“Why are you here?”
“You are very odd,” he replies.
She want to laugh. Her? But she keeps it bottled up so she doesn’t wake the whole building. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she keeps the blankets thrown over herself for now. No use getting cold. One foot dangles just to the side of each of his thighs until she’s stepping on his hands. She’s not standing, so there is little pressure. The mutant doesn’t react, just stares on ahead.
“What’s your name?” While she waits on his answer, she trails her foot up his chest, feeling her sole rub against the expanse of over-developed muscle. His muscles twitch as she passes over the skin, leathery but so warm, like nothing she’s felt before. Finally he calve comes to rest on his shoulder. Her second leg repeats the process. Still, he has not moved
“Keene.”
“So tell me, Keene,” she scoots forward, so that her groin sits just at the edge of the bed. Pulls the blanket away until she’s just in her tank top and underwear. Her legs wrap around his shoulders. Even in the darkness she can see his nostrils flare at the scent of her. He’s so tall that he would still have to dip his head down to lick her. Little doubt that he will. “Why are you here?”
“You.”
“Of course,” gently she rubs her hand over his scalp. He leans into the touch. Has to be so obvious about everything. So very bad at hiding.
She puts her hand between her legs, pulling her underwear aside before parting her folds. Should take them off entirely but the heat of his body against her bare legs is so delicious she doesn’t want to part with it. With her other hand she grabs the back of his head and pulls him forward, until those teeth scrape against her.
“Careful, careful,” she purrs. “Do you remember how to do this?” Her hips roll against his face, “Remember how to make a woman cum?”
There’s a muffled sound against her. He goes to work, tongue sliding along her folds, against her clit. Like everything else about him, it’s massive. None of the delicate touch she prefers, but it will get the job done. She moves her own hand away. Instead she paws at her own breast through the thin fabric of her tank. Works herself until her nipples are hard.
Jill lets her head fall back against the mattress. Her hands keep Keene in his place, pressed against her. She suspects she doesn’t have to hold him there, the way he licks against her like he’s been desperate for this for years. Like he needs her wet against his face in order to live. He’s got no hair to pull on, so she reaches further until she’s got hold of his scarf, pulls on that instead and orgasms in lush waves with his head between her thighs.
When she lets go of his head he only pulls back a fraction of an inch. Still can feel his breath hot against her. The rhythm of his hand on his own cock is plain enough. He smells her while he beats himself. Instead she hatches other plans.
“Get on your hands and knees. Face away from me.”
Hesitating, Keene does not move.
“Now,” she commands. If he does not listen, she’ll simply stop this.
On the second try he seems to understand and does as he’s told. There’s a thin rug between his knees and the floorboards, but she can’t imagine he needs the comfort of it. Standing behind him, she doesn’t think he looks so big like this. Sure, his shoulders are broad and he’s all defined muscle everywhere. It borders on grotesque. As he strains to not touch himself she can see the roll of tendons under his skin.
“Good. You look good. Undress yourself, then back in this position.”
He does not speak. But his heavy breathing fills the room. The air is hotter now than when Jill went to bed. It smells like her, a little like cigarettes too, and Keene. Something hypermasculine she’s not used to having in her nose.
While he works to strip himself, she rifles through her pack looking for something, anything that will work. She wants to fuck him, to make him beg. And she’s pretty sure in the state he’s currently in, he’ll let her do it.
There’s a bottle of oil in her pack. She’s been using it to rub into her hair in a vain attempt to make it appear less dry than it actually is. Since it hasn’t worked on her hair, maybe it’ll work on Keene’s ass.
He’s listened well, stripped until he was naked and arranged himself on all fours for her. Breathing so hard she can hear, see, feel it.
She stands over him. Uncorking the bottle, she doesn’t bother to warm the oil. Doesn’t know if he can tell the difference through the thick of his skin. She lets it pour along the curve of his ass. Some splashes away from its intended target but the waste is worth it from the way he hisses, the way his thighs tighten and he jerks away.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared? I’m just a little girl.” She pours most of the remainder on her hand. Rubs both of her hands together until it’s well distributed.
At first he doesn’t respond. Just inhales sharply as she traces her index finger against his hole. Doesn’t push inside yet. Waits for him to answer.
“You are many things, Little Girl.”
She stabs into him with one manicured finger. Can’t believe it feels like much on someone so huge. But it might feel of embarrassment, getting finger-fucked, willingly, by someone a third of his size. Her finger sinks all the way in on one go and he clamps around her. Never had that happen before. Normally it’s a bunch of cooing and soft murmurs and ‘good boys’ before she can get to the second knuckle. But then again, none of them were this fucking big.
“I think you like this, Keene.” She pulls the one finger back out, slides a second in. Slaps his ass with her free hand on the downstroke. Doesn’t move a millimeter, there’s no fat to him. Everything about him is odd, this amplification, a perversion of ‘man.’ “I think you like being on your hands and knees, with my fat cock up your ass.”
He grunts, but grunts aren’t good enough. She wants to make him scream. Wants the whole Mojave to see him like a slut for her.
“Do you like taking this Little Girl’s big cock?” Leaning over his body she still can’t reach his ear. Does like a good boy and groans for her though. Little hitching breaths as she spreads him, scissoring her fingers apart until the stretch is enough. “Tell me how you feel, Keene.”
“Not enough.”
“Yeah,” another finger. “You are pretty loose. Must take lots of cocks up your pretty hole? Don’t worry though, I’ll wreck you good.”
For the fourth she doesn’t wait. Slides it in before she thinks he’s ready for it. Finally she comes up against familiar resistance. Hissing against the carpet, he bucks back against her, nearly throwing her off.
“Good,” he whines, “so good.”
“What’s good?” She increases her pace. It’s not something she can keep up for long. As delicious as he looks, her arm will get tired at this rate. He just swallows up so much of her at once. Unreal.
“Your cock,” the words are a choked whisper.
“Louder, baby. More.”
“Your cock in my ass, Little Girl.”
She smirks and kisses along his lower spine. It’s all she can reach. Licks at that last vertebra. Such a pretty picture they must make. The big scary nightkin with a woman on his back, most of her hand sinking inside him. Makes her wish for a functional camera. Real scrapbook material here.
“You going to come for me? Why don’t you rub your little clit, Keene?”
His hands fly to his cock so fast he forgets he’s supposed to support his own weight. They both topple forward until he braces himself on his elbow. He jerks himself so rapidly that she’s lost some of the control she had. More than anything else he thrusts back onto her than her thrusting into him. It’s hot as hell and she’ll be touching herself to this mental image for weeks.
“Please, please let me come.”
“Louder, Keene.”
He’ll listen, because he just wants to be good for her.
“Please let me come!” He roars.
She never said he couldn’t, but she likes his voice asking permission all the same. With all his eagerness, she wonders what kind of man he was before.
“Come, baby.”
His cries are so loud she’s sure now they’ve woken up the whole settlement. Guttural and primal and so masculine she can barely stand it. Panting fills the room. Other than that they are both silent. She pulls out of him slowly and rubs her sore wrist. For a long time he doesn’t move. Between his legs she can see his cock softening and the pool of cum beneath him. Almost asks him to lick it up, but she’s tired. And curious.
“Keene,” she lets her head rest against the edge of the mattress. The fibers of the rug are coarse against her bare thighs. “Who were you, before you were this?”
“Stop looking at me.”
So she does.