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Ever since the Ghoul and Lucy set out into the sandy, dusty, dry, irritating sunset, the two have developed a pattern with one another. He keeps an eye on the world while she learns everything she can from him so that she can become a useful person to keep around. At first the bounty hunter found her kind of annoying due to her naivety about the world. He's been trying to remember that she grew up in a Vault, which gave her certain ideas about the world that's been attempting to collapse around them for the last umpteen years. It's a miracle she even made it this far, truthfully. Since the dweller is tagging along, and he doesn't want to deal with dead weight, he's been teaching her about the reality of the world now and how to survive in it. She's a decent shot already, better now that she has his finger, he smugly thinks any time he has her practice how she holds the random weapons he gives her during their travels.
Still, as reluctantly as he is to admit it, the Ghoul is kind of bemused with the Vault dweller. He finds himself chuckling when she gets squeamish around feral ghouls, and while he knows the day could come where he'll be a hindrance for her instead of an asset, he still insists on teaching Lucy what he can to ensue her best chance at survival. It's an okay way to pass the time, he supposes.
“A house,” Lucy says one day with mild confusion and skepticism as she squints in the distance. “It looks nice.”
“We'll see about that,” he rasps in response. He's exhausted from the arduous task they've had of escaping from a Deathclaw over the last few days. Wanting more Rad-away and somewhere to rest, the ghastly looking remnants of a man turn towards the house she's looking at. He stops in his tracks and joins the dark haired woman as she stares at the structure a hundred yards or so away.
It's a simple unit with white walls, an angled roof, and what appears to be a pine tree in a large bay window. The red door and roof coupled with unbroken windows seem like a firm warning to stay away from the place, hinting it's an obvious trap, however he just wants to wipe some of the grime out of the pockets in his scarred skin and get off of his feet for ten minutes without something trying to attack them.
His body makes the decision for him that it's worth the risk to go into the house, as much as his brain is screaming at him about exactly what kind of moron goes towards the obvious trap.
“Wait up,” Lucy says as she moves after her travel partner. With a soft whistle she calls Dogmeat and the canine trots after her, tongue lolling as the hound pants. It's been a tiresome trek so far while they chase down the Vault dweller's father.
Before the Ghoul lets anyone enter the house, he makes them do a perimeter check, and then another just to be especially cautious. Just because he wants to take a load off doesn't mean he can afford to be stupid and mess up this potential break from the sandy, barren misery of the Wasteland. Finally he determines that whatever traps there might be around the house, they aren't making themselves easy to discern. Begrudgingly, without much enthusiasm, he says he'll get the door. He can hear the leather of his gloves whine as he grips his gun tightly, bracing himself before he turns the knob, preparing for a fight.
Nothing moves except the door, which protests its use with creaking sounds that echo in the otherwise quiet house.
Slow movements bring the bounty hunter deeper into the house. He glances around, gun drawn, and scrutinizes everything he sees.
“What's in there,” Lucy calls from outside while she and Dogmeat wait for the “all clear” signal. Neither wants to get in his way in the end, after all.
“Nothing,” he finally says with a frown. He almost sounds disappointed that there were no surprises awaiting the hapless fools to take the risk of entering the neatly kept domicile. “It's unnaturally clean in here,” he adds as he moves into the living room. The Ghoul lets out a low whistle as he sees what's waiting for them.
Decorated with ivory furniture, an eggshell colored carpet, and the most delicate powder blue walls, the living room is the cleanest room he's seen in the last hundred years. The fake pine tree standing before the bay window has been completely decorated in red, gold, green, and silver ornaments. Random strings of lights hang from the ceiling, along with paper chains and mistletoe is pinned over an open doorway that leads to a bedroom. Tinsel garlands on the tree reflect the sunlight from the desert, and beneath the faux boughs are carefully wrapped, old, dusty looking presents. A bottle sits tucked between a few of the small boxes and he raises an eyebrow ridge before he leans down to grab it.
“Woah, what is all of this,” Lucy asks as she wanders into the well kept living room. She eyes an armchair before taking a seat, watching the Ghoul as he looks over the bottle of bourbon in his hand.
“A holiday miracle,” he says with a dry, empty laugh. He doesn't believe any of this is real anymore. A well maintained house that's devoid of life or signs of the explosions, with presents still wrapped beneath the tree, and a nice, expensive bottle of his favorite alcohol? Nah, he's finally lost it. He figures he's probably busy tearing Lucy's body limb from limb and feasting on the skittish woman while his brain provides him a happy fantasy as a distraction while it shuts down permanently, keeping him from noticing that he's turned feral. None of this is real, probably.
Deciding to give into the foolish idea that this is a hallucination, dream, or a waking vision to distract him from what's truly happening, he unscrews the bottle after a couple of failed attempts and downs almost half of the bourbon before he even considers taking his time and savoring the rare delicacy.
In fact, the bounty hunter feels so charitable in this final dream that he offers the half-empty bottle to the Vault dweller.
“That smells, uh.”
“Like liquid pleasure,” he grunts, shoving the open bottle into her hands before she can find the words to describe what bourbon smells like to her. They've had to share resources for the last couple of weeks, so an open bottle won't be anything for her to fuss at sharing with him. Slowly he removes his belt of ammo, his coat, and he lays them over the arm of the couch with his gun. He then drops heavily onto the couch, stretching his arms over the back as the dry wooden frame groans from his sudden unannounced arrival. Feeling good about the fact they can relax for a little while at least, the Ghoul whistles sharply and pats the cushion next to him. Dogmeat jumps up and lays her head over his knee, seeming perfectly content to be up on the furniture where she belongs.
“Wonder what's in the boxes,” Lucy says with mild curiosity as she moves to kneel in front of the gifts beneath the decorated tree.
“Might as well open them. It doesn't look like anyone's going to stop us,” he says as he tips his hat down, shading his eyes with the brim.
The abomination of a man wants to rest for a few minutes, maybe doze off, but soon the constant rustling of boxes moving and paper being picked at causes him to frown at Lucy as he realizes he'll never be able to nod off with her making noise every two seconds.
“Suit yourself. I'm going to open some of these,” she says as she cants her head. A small smile forms on her lips as she sees the first present. White flowing fabric cascades over her lap with iridescent thread glittering and making the dress look like it's a snow-covered field just before sunrise. There's a small jewelry box tucked into the corner of the dress's box with a white enamel snowflake pendant on a thin sterling silver chain.
Lucy sets the box aside and picks up another while she wonders why this house is in such good condition, both untouched and full of unopened boxes. Presents, she reminds herself.
Everywhere they've gone has been full of people wearing scraps of anything that they've found, piecing together clothes and outfits from whatever sources they can. In fact, the people they meet all seem to be pieced together from the smattering of humanity's remnants. She tries not to think about how many people lived before the bombs dropped, how many holes are still trying to be filled by others, even all these years later.
Thinking too much will quickly depress the woman. She instead takes a swig from the bottle the Ghoul found. As soon as she swallows the bourbon she coughs and tries not to gag due to the strong taste from the alcohol. “Oh that's disgusting,” she mumbles as she draws another box towards herself.
“Liquid pleasure,” he corrects her with a snide smirk. “Come on darlin', don't drink it all. Give it here.” Slowly sitting up, he leans over and reaches for the bottle. She gives it to him with a disapproving look. “What's in the boxes,” he asks, gesturing vaguely at the few things Lucy has opened so far while he sits back to enjoy one of his un-life's simple pleasures.
“Clothes for a woman, matching mugs, and a blank book,” she says, running her fingers over the leather bound journal. It's expensive feeling, even in her wasteland-roughened hands. She quickly sets it down so that she doesn't ruin the item with any excessive touching.
“Huh. Anything else?”
“I'm still opening them. You can join me,” she says with a laugh as she pulls the lid off of a small box. There's a lighter with a carved symbol of a baseball and bat on it. She turns the steel case over in her hands before tossing the fire starter onto his lap. The dog's head shifts but doesn't budge from the bounty hunter's leg.
“And move Dogmeat? Look at what a good girl she's being. I'll just watch you and drink more.”
Lucy rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she glances at the white dress again. She had to share a wedding dress when she lived in the Vault, and her 'marriage' wasn't even something she considers to be real since the participants were raiders and not fellow Vault dwellers from across the way.
Pressing her fingers against her side briefly, she frowns as the dull pain of her scars grows more apparent now that she has the luxury of noticing them.
“Why do you do that,” the Ghoul murmurs in a low, gravely voice.
“Do what,” she asks innocently, moving to take another present. She didn't realize he had been watching her. It makes her feel self-conscious.
“You touch your side sometimes and stop what you're doing. Why?”
“Oh. I didn't think you noticed. I was stabbed and my scar hurts sometimes.” Lucy picks up a flat box and reveals a steel photo frame with etchings of ribbons and stars around the border. At the moment the frame is empty. She frowns with disappointment. She had hoped to find a photo of who lived here.
“Yeah? Who would ever dare to hurt you, darlin'?” He chuckles and flexes his index finger at her, quietly admiring her finger that's attached to his hand.
“Funny,” she retorts dryly. “Uh, it was my husband, I guess.”
“You guess?” The bounty hunter sits up slowly, forcing Dogmeat to move her head and adjust next to him. He braces his elbows on his knees as he stares sternly down at the dark haired woman sitting on the floor next to the large tree made of plastic, wire, and devoid of anything real. He expects a concrete answer from her than 'she guesses'.
“Well, he was supposed to marry me. I guess he did, we had our wedding night,” she mutters the second half to herself with a frown. “But he was part of a raiding party, so I don't consider him, you know. My actual husband. Since it was a trap.”
“I see. Well, marriage is a trap, at least you survived yours.” His brows are low as he wonders how often she has aches in her side from the scar tissue. The random pains could linger for years, longer if she has any trauma associated with it. “Here, drink.”
“No thanks,” she shakes her head. “That stuff is nasty.”
“It's not. The second taste is better than the first, promise,” he insists, shaking the bottle at her and listening to the liquid slosh around within.
“Will it get me drunk?” Lucy takes the bottle and takes another sip. She coughs again, but it's not as bad this time. “Oh, that stings and burns. Why do you even like this stuff?”
“Well, after a few drinks, the world starts to feel fuzzy and buzzy and right,” he chuckles. “Things don't seem all that awful so long as I drink enough.”
“That's depressing,” she says before looking at the dress again. “I'm going to try this on.” She hasn't worn a dress in so long and it looks so pretty. Just for today, she wants to pretend everything's alright. After everything that's happened to her so far, she feels she can allow herself to be distracted for a few more minutes.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Ghoul continues to drink from the bottle as he glances at some of the presents which remained unopened. Maybe there was more alcohol in this place he could bring with them. He lets out a groan as he gets up. Dogmeat lifts her head but doesn't leave her spot. She's content on the couch.
Lucy wanders into the bedroom and looks around. She takes in the Queen-sized bed made up with ivory bedding and satin pillowcases, the vanity dresser with a dust-covered mirror, a closet door that is slightly ajar, and an open door that shows a bathroom. She closes the bedroom door quietly and feels the white painted wood stick in the door frame slightly. Moving to the vanity, she takes in her dirty, dusty appearance, the grime caked into every crease and line it could make its way into, and she frowns. She wants to wear the dress, not stain it immediately.
Eyeing the bathroom, she realizes that while there probably isn't running water, there might be towels or cloths to wipe herself down with at least. If she's lucky there will be a comb so that she can try to do something with her hair.
After what feels like an eternity, the Ghoul realizes he hasn't seen Lucy leave the bedroom. He looks at the bottles of bourbon he found in the kitchen by the sink. They looked fancy and were laid out nicely, showing off their labels and tempting him to drink them all. At the moment two are empty on the floor next to the couch, three are on the end table closest to him, and one is in his hand. He stands slowly and grunts as he feels the buzz of bourbon roll through his body. His nerves feel like they're humming as he moves.
“Vaulty, what're you doing in there,” he calls as he leans heavily against the wall outside the door.
“Just zipping up,” she says in a breathless, almost giddy voice.
Frowning, the bounty hunter lets out a groan. “Well hurry up, I want to sleep in a bed and you're in the way.”
The door handle jiggles as Lucy tugs at the door. She frowns, giving a firm pull. It doesn't budge. “Door's stuck,” she calls.
“The fuck it is,” he grunts in response. He's getting to sleep in a bed today. He's earned it with all he's done to help the naive Vault dweller the last few weeks. Lowering a shoulder and leaning back, he soon throws his weight against the door and hears the wood pop free from the frame it was stuck in. Stumbling once the door gives way, he catches himself before he can fall onto Lucy and knock her to the floor.
“Jeeze,” she yelps, ducking and moving out of the way quickly. She huffs and glances in the mirror, admiring the little bun she managed to put her hair in with the few hair care items she found within the vanity.
“Nice dress,” he says as he leans against the wall, drinking from the bottle still clutched possessively in his scarred, reddish hued hand. It doesn't taste bad, but the bourbon isn't as good as what was under the tree.
“Thanks,” she mumbles in an embarrassed tone as she rubs her hand along the back of her neck. It's been a while since she received any sort of compliment about her looks, and even one given due to intoxication sounds nice to her.
He finds his gaze lingering on her form while he drinks, taking in how narrow her shoulders are, how small her waist is, and how the dress shows off her legs in a tantalizing way. Sections of fabric overlap and part randomly, offering flashes of a knee and thigh randomly. He wants to keep watching just in case he misses another look at her supple skin. That scrutinizing gaze moves back towards her face and he squints. Her hair's done nicely compared to normal. She doesn't look as grimy. She looks kind of pretty, actually.
Shaking his head, he blames the alcohol for that stupid thought. He's over two hundred years old, he has no business thinking the Vault girl cleans up nice.
“What's that,” Lucy asks, intending to distract the bounty hunter as she realizes he's been staring at her without saying anything for a few moments now. She points up at the door frame. The Ghoul glances up and sees the mistletoe pinned to the wood.
“That's a stupid tradition for this time of year.” He rolls his eyes before he thinks of something. “C'mere, I'll show you. Stand under it.”
He can just blame the alcohol when she yells at him later.
Curiosity fills those big eyes as Lucy moves into the doorway, looking up at the green and red plastic plant. She doesn't even notice at first when the Ghoul leans towards her. He cups the back of her head with one hand while the other grabs onto the door frame to keep himself steady.
Lucy's eyes cross as he gets closer before she shuts them quickly as she feels his mouth press firmly and quickly against hers. She scrunches her face up in surprise as her hands move, pushing against his shoulders after a second.
Laughing, he draws back, only feeling a small sting somewhere in his chest cavity at her rejection. “Mistletoe has long been used to trick pretty girls into kissing fuck-ugly horny men,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Don't get excited, you ain't my type.”
Blinking quickly, Lucy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she blinks quickly up at him. “What? Gross. Definitely didn't need an alcohol-tasting kiss today.” Her face is hot and she blames the bourbon she sipped earlier. “Here, give me that, need to wash my mouth out,” she mutters as she swipes the bottle away from him without any resistance.
“That hurts, darlin'. I know I'm out of practice but I have years of kissing on you.” The Ghoul tips his hat and grins down at Lucy while he watches her play up trying to wash her mouth out. He notices she doesn't spit the drink out and is instead drinking some more.
“It's not the quantity of time, but the quality of the product,” she quips before she moves back into the living room. She sinks down onto the floor again. The dress flows out around her legs as she picks up another box, plucking idly at the ribbon. Although drinking the bourbon still stings, she's noticing a warm heat in her belly that's slowly spreading throughout her limbs, helping her to relax. “How much more booze is there?”
“A fair amount. I brought a few choice bottles out here,” the undead man says as he drops back onto the couch next to Dogmeat, who is contently watching the two of them with her head resting between her forelegs. He hears a crack and wonders if it's the frame splitting. Nothing happens after the first noise so he imagines he must be good.
“I want one,” she says softly. He raises an eyebrow ridge at her before he hands her the weakest of the three bourbon bottles on the end table. It's only sixty-five proof, but that's alright. He doesn't want her getting black out drunk and wandering out of the house while he's sleeping in that comfy looking bed he forgot to pass out on. Soon, he thinks. Once he's truly tired.
For a half-hour or so, Lucy sips at the bottle of bourbon and opens presents. Clothes, jewelry, books, and what looks like a fancy futuristic music playing box with a small square case litter the floor.
“What's that one,” the Ghoul asks as he rubs his gloved fingers over Dogmeat's head. The hound's tail thumps contently against the couch cushion.
“I dunno. We can plug it in, maybe? It looks like it's supposed to be some sort of... I mean those are speakers, right? Maybe it plays music.” She holds up the rectangular device and touches at the cord coming out of the back.
The bounty hunter frowns before he picks up the device in question. Speakers, a clear cover where something round must go, and some buttons. Nothing too complicated. He finds an outlet and takes the square case that came with the music system. After plugging in the device and touching enough buttons that it turns on, he opens the box and sees a flat circle with a hole in the center.
“What is this,” he grunts, turning it over in his hand. The top looks like it has art printed onto it while the bottom looks gray but reflects pale rainbows in the light. He pops the disc into the device and hits several of the buttons. One makes the disc spin under the clear cover and he watches before he turns up the volume.
A woman's voice echoes in the room from the speakers as a song start. “I don't want a lot for Christmas,” she sings. He watches the disc spin within, fascinated. Who knew there would be music on that flat thing?
Turning to look at Lucy, he sees her staring intently at him. He moves back towards the couch but trips over one of the open boxes. Too intoxicated to stop himself this time, he falls down next to the dark haired woman and lets out a sound. “Ow,” he grunts, rolling onto his back instead of trying to sit up. His head feels too heavy right now and the floor feels so good under him.
“Are you alright?” Lucy leans over him, laughing as she adjusts his hat, pulling the brim over his eyes.
“I'm fine,” he says before he reaches up, carefully grabbing her wrist before she draws her hand away. “You look pretty.”
“You're drunk,” she laughs, moving to pull away from him. He retaliates by tugging on her wrist, drawing her down towards him instead.
“I'm a little intoxicated,” he corrects her before he reaches up and brushes his fingers over her hairline. “Doesn't change the fact you look like you're glowing, wearing that dress. Never seen you so happy before.”
“It's a nice dress,” she murmurs with embarrassment. Too big in the chest, a little tight around the hips, loose feeling in general, but it feels nice to be wearing something feminine and flowing. Something that doesn't look like it was dug up from someone's grave or picked off a freshly mutilated body.
Curious if she is truly repulsed by him, emboldened by the bourbon, the Ghoul leans up and nudges the top of his nasal cavity against her jaw. She tenses briefly before she tilts her head down, frowning as she asks, “What're you doing, Ghoul.”
“Enjoying the moment, darlin'. Try it.” He lets out a rasping laugh against her skin before he shifts to meet her gaze. There's a fire in his eyes, a determination, as he moves closer to her.
She doesn't seem surprised this time as he pushes his mouth against hers. In fact, she seems to enjoy the embrace as she closes her eyes, rocking forward slightly on her knees as she sinks her hand against his chest, bracing herself so she doesn't fall over him and ruin the moment.
The two share a tentative and cautious kiss as they both wait to see if the other draws back to laugh at them for succumbing to a trick. When neither pulls away, the pair realize that this isn't going to be just a drunk kiss.
Lucy's lips part slowly and she lets out a weak sound against his mouth. He lets go of her wrist and draws her down onto him as he lays back against the floor. The bounty hunter's scarred, disfigured hands slide slowly along the backs of her thighs, enjoying the feel of her soft skin and appreciating how her muscles tense under his touch. Those exploring hands draw over her rear, tugging the dress up as his fingers gently grope and knead at her bottom.
He opens his mouth and pushes his tongue into her mouth as a low sound of approval escapes his throat. It's been so long since he's felt a woman against him. He forced himself to forget how good it feels.
Those exploring fingers get more curious as he starts to feel over the backs of her thighs and her ass. He can feel her panties and he slips a finger along the top hem, snapping the material against his skin.
“Mmph!” Lucy flinches with surprise at the sound more than anything as her fingers curl against his shirt.
“Off with these,” he mumbles as he turns his head, breaking the kiss for a moment. He's breathing faster and notices she seems flushed. He likes that look. “They're in the way, darlin'.”
Unsure just what he's thinking, but having a few ideas of her own of what's to come, Lucy adjusts and kneels over the Ghoul before she moves to stand. She makes a small show of tugging the white panties down against her creamy thighs before she tosses them to the side with a small grin. She had found the undergarments at the bottom of the dress's box. They must've been part of a set.
Before Lucy can drop back down onto the Ghoul, he holds a hand up, silently asking her to wait. He undoes the snaps on his leather gloves before he slips them off and drops the protective leather onto the floor. Then, as if trying to tease her, he starts to slowly, meticulously undo the buttons on his shirt. He wants to enjoy every moment of this. The hat stays on, though.
Once he's made himself more comfortable, the bounty hunter curls his bare hands against the backs of Lucy's thighs and encourages her to sink back down onto him. She stumbles as he draws her forward and he helps to guide her down over his shoulders slowly, nudging his head between her legs. He takes a deep breath and lets out a satisfied hum in response at the feminine scent she gives off.
“What're you doing,” she asks uncertainly as she tries to move back and kneel over his chest instead. He holds onto her legs and lets out a grunt of disapproval at her attempt to withhold a treasure he has a fierce desire to possess.
“Gonna give you a Christmas present,” he says coyly. “Now sit.”
The dark haired woman nearly shrieks at the scarred yet charismatic man, “On your face? No!”
“You'll like it darlin', promise,” he laughs as he turns his head, kissing along her inner thigh. The feeling of his mouth moving over her skin causes Lucy to shudder. She swallows, slowly and reluctantly moving to do as she's told and kneel over the Ghoul's head, hesitating as she tries to keep from sinking down against him.
“Your hat's falling,” she says, moving to adjust it. She realizes she wants to wear his hat, but before she can take it, she hears a muffled warning from between her thighs.
“My hat, not yours. Leave it on.”
She's about to criticize him for being so possessive of a hat before she feels his mouth press up further between her legs. She gasps, curling her fingers against her palms as she moans weakly. Made more sensitive from the alcohol, she looks down, seeing the hat and some scarred skin disappearing between her legs. She can feel his mouth pushing up eagerly against her mound. She sighs weakly, hesitantly sinking down against him as soft curls of pleasure begin to form low in her belly.
The Ghoul's mouth works over her mound. He kisses along her sex and pushes his tongue against her folds. He lets out a satisfied hum against her and she feels it reverberating up into her. Shuddering, she leans back slightly, bracing her hands against the floor on either side of his chest as she watches him bury his face between her legs. She can feel him inhaling against her skin and it causes her to whine from the rush of air teasing along her womanhood as she grows warm from his attention.
Slow, careful strokes of his tongue along her sex cause her to cry out and moan. His tongue feels hot against her skin and she whines weakly, twitching as the muscle parts her folds. He pushes firmly against her slit before the tip of his tongue catches on her swelling hood. He rocks his chin up against her as he toys with her clit, messily kissing and even sucking at the sensitive nub.
Surprised cries of pleasure and delight escape Lucy as the Ghoul eats her out. The muscles along her inner thighs twitch in response to every hint of attention shown to that sensitive hood. The more attention he gives her, the more wetness she can feel developing and coating her slit. That only seems to encourage his attention and he laps at her growing desire, letting out deep and rumbling hums of satisfaction against her pelvic bone as wetness smears against his face.
As he eagerly eats her out and feasts on her desire, Lucy starts to want more. She pushes her legs together, pressing against either side of his head as she keeps him trapped between her legs. He doesn't stop his attention, and in fact it seems like he grows more eager before she feels something pressing up against her slick entrance.
Realizing it's a finger, she rolls her head back, rocking down against the Ghoul's tongue and breathing hard. “Yes... That feels good, more, please...” Her voice sounds breathy, almost unnatural, even to her.
He wastes no time when she asks for more. That large digit sinks into her, smearing itself in the wetness which clings to her snug walls as he works her over, enjoying her taste as he gulps down all of the pleasure she can offer him.
One thick finger quickly becomes two as the Ghoul feels how Lucy is trying to bounce on his fingers. He can feel the muscles of her inner thighs grow taut and shift with every movement she makes as she allows herself to really enjoy what he's doing. He feels the strain of his growing arousal in his pants, which only makes him work harder to get the woman off. He doesn't want to stop until he's made her lose control, but from the way she is dripping against his hand, he doubts he'll have to wait long.
Lucy soon throws her head back and lets out a scream from the combination of his tongue lavishing her swollen clit in attention and his fingers plunging deep within her needy, drenched sex. The pleasure mounts quickly and she gasps as her hips buck down against his mouth. Her muscles tense and ripple around his digits as she climaxes, shuddering from the rush of pleasure which overwhelms her briefly. It soon subsides into a heat which spreads upwards throughout her body and she groans, feeling content for the first time in a while. She hasn't climaxed in ages, and although it came suddenly, it felt amazing.
After her orgasm, it takes a few moments for Lucy to realize that she's still got his head trapped between her thighs. She relaxes her legs as she breathes hard, tying to calm down. “Sorry, sorry, are you okay? I didn't mean to-”
“Darlin', if I could die I'd happily choose to have a woman suffocate me between her thighs,” he chuckles as he grins up at her. The Ghoul's mouth and chin glisten with remnants of her pleasure. She can even see some coating his nasal cavity, which makes her feel especially embarrassed. She didn't think he'd excite her so much.
Biting her lower lip, Lucy stares down at the scarred features of the bounty hunter as her heart pounds. “Yeah? Is that all you want to do with me? Just drown between my legs?” While she's talking, she's shifting from side to side, almost as if she's antsy or uncomfortable with her own arousal as it gathers and makes her swollen mound glisten in the brightly lit room.
“Nah. Got other plans. C'mere, I'll show you.” He has to gently push her legs up so that he can slide out from under her and stand up, but when he does, he holds out his hand for her. She takes the offered hand and he pulls her up, but she accidentally tugs him towards her as she loses her balance trying to get her feet under her. The two stumble until she slams against the wall and he presses up against her, bracing himself against the door frame as he pushes in for another kiss. This one is messier, needier, more about desire and need than a sweet moment.
Lucy's hands move to slide over his shoulders and the back of his head while he pushes himself against her body, grinding himself against her and letting her feel how aroused he's made her. Both are breathing heavily as they make out against the doorway to the bedroom.
“Dress,” he grunts, tugging at one of the sparkling straps on her shoulder.
“Pants,” she gasps, grinning as she moves just enough to get into the bedroom. The Ghoul follows after her, chuckling as he fumbles with his zipper.
“You sure you want that, darlin',” he rasps as he undoes the front of his slacks, reaching in and exposing his swollen, tapered cock. The swollen head is leaking precum and he sighs as he strokes himself slowly from tip to base, his fingers spreading out slowly the further down he goes.
Lucy unzips her dress while watching him. She pushes the top down to her hips, exposing her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples, her soft skin, and the scars from her attempt at marriage.
“Yeah,” she says, unable to keep from staring at him. The patterns run all over his body, leaving a texture like a burn scar in its wake. Slowly her eyes move upwards and she tilts her head at the hat. She asks with a small pout, “Is that staying on?”
“Only good girls get to wear my hat,” he says before he leans close and kisses her again. She inches back on the bed and he climbs over her, kicking his boots off and then his pants as she shimmies out of her dress, leaving the both of them naked as the afternoon light fills the bedroom.
Lucy's arms wrap around the bounty hunter's scarred shoulders as he sinks down onto her carefully. He moves almost gingerly, as if he thinks he'll hurt her or she'll change her mind about this suddenly.
When the Ghoul feels Lucy's mouth moving over his jaw, followed by her tongue, he grins, doubting she'll change her mind. He kneels over her body and draws her legs apart, lowering his hips to press down against her. He strokes the head of his cock along her slit, getting himself slick with her nectar, before he braces one hand against the bed next to her head while he grasps his base and starts to guide himself against her properly.
“Damn girl, was your ex a pencil?” He pushes and rocks his hips against her, working himself into her slowly. She's drenched but tight, but he still has to take his time to stretch her body to fit him.
“I-I think the radiation is to blame for your size,” she gasps, moaning as she feels him sinking further and further into her warm, clenching depths. She can feel the tapered thickness spreading her open and she groans, shuddering as her hips twitch.
“No, it's always been like that,” he laughs as he draws his hips back, pushing more into her with each thrust. Soft, low sounds of pleasure escape the Ghoul as he feels her drenched walls squeeze him snugly over and over in time with her gasps.
Lucy's body rocks upwards as she tries to push against the bounty hunter's movements. She curls her fingers against his back as he sinks into her repeatedly. She can't help but cry out as his thick base continues to stretch her body further to fit all of him while he works to fill her completely. Her heels press firmly against the bed as she braces herself beneath him, rolling her hips towards him with every stroke of his shaft within her.
His brisk movements cause the bed to rock and creak as wet sounds of their lovemaking fill the room. Her cries echo in his ears and further his intoxication as he slips a hand under her waist, inching his fingers lower before he grips onto her pert ass, drawing her body against his as he holds her close to him. His movements become rougher as his muscles flex and he buries his face against her shoulder, panting hotly against her skin between soft kisses and little nips of his teeth along her neck.
Disheveled hair slips free from the elastic that was holding her hair in its bun as she presses her legs against his sides, crying out sharply at the angle change. Encouraged by her response, the Ghoul becomes more aggressive with Lucy, slamming down into her as his hips buck with purpose, filling her with every stroke.
“Harder... Harder, please, oh- that feels so good,” Lucy nearly whines, her toes flexing and curling as her muscles twitch and grip tighter at his thick cock.
With a small smirk and a weak grunt to acknowledge her compliment, the bounty hunter redoubles his efforts, thrusting quickly and with unbridled passion into his smaller partner. Her cries fill his head, mixed with gasps and moans, and he feels his hand slip as wetness starts to coat his fingers. Smugly he lowers her back down onto the bed, satisfied knowing that she's enjoying herself so much that she's dripping with wetness for him.
The Ghoul's grunts grow louder, and soon he lets out low moans as he hammers away at her gripping womanhood. He can feel his pleasure mounting and it causes his thrusts to become more erratic. He grabs her hip with his free hand, still leaning over her and letting out a low moan near her ear as she kisses along his shoulder, whining sweetly and continuously letting out pleased noises from his attention.
It's too much for him to handle. Unable to give a proper warning, he thrusts a few more times into Lucy before he pushes himself as deeply as he can within her. His balls tense up and he feels himself unload into her, filling her with his hot cum as a low, gravelly moan escapes him, reverberating in his chest and against hers as he presses down against her, pinning her while she takes his unnaturally warm seed.
Lucy didn't think she'd have one orgasm today, let alone another, but the feeling of the Ghoul throbbing within her coupled with his hot cum filling her, she gasps as a second wave of pleasure overwhelms her. Her muscles grip and squeeze repeatedly at the arousal buried within her, trying to drain every last drop from him before she's fully satisfied. Her hips buck upwards as she trembles beneath him, while high pitched cries escape her as she enjoys her second climax more than the first.
Breathing heavily as he realizes how good he feels after that, the Ghoul stares down at Lucy with an unreadable expression. Slowly he reaches up, takes his hat off, and drops it onto her head. It covers half of her face and he chuckles in a fond way at the sight.
Letting out a weak, breathless laugh, Lucy touches at the brim of his hat on her head. “What's this for?”
“Good girls get to wear the hat,” he says in a pleased tone, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. He sighs contently and moves to lay down on his side, drawing Lucy towards him and tucking her into the little spoon position. He's going to sleep well for once, even if it kills him.
He's thankful that they found the house, yet still under the impression that this whole day has just been some weird Christmas themed special that his brain came up with while he's turning feral and going on a long overdue rampage.
The bounty hunter hopes he's wrong, of course. He'd give anything to be wrong right now as he relaxes, burying his nasal cavity into Lucy's disheveled dark hair and sighing slowly, chuckling lowly when he feels her squirm against his body in response.
“There'll be time for more soon,” he murmurs in a drowsy voice as his fingers curl and stroke low against her belly. “Let me recharge first, darlin'.”
He'll think more about what's going on in the morning. Still, in the back of his mind, he's sure that today will have been nothing more than a fuzzy, distant dream that never happened.