Experimenting in the Shack

Title: “Experimenting in the Shack”

Genres: Romance, Humor

Characters/Pairing: Charon/Female Lone Wanderer

Fandom(s): Fallout 3

Disclaimer: Fallout 3 belongs to Bethesda Studios

Author’s Notes: This fic is set from the Lone Wanderer's point of view.

~~~@~~~

 

I tried to ebb out the sheer embarrassment I’m feeling over the fact that, yes, Charon is right there leaning against the doorframe with that ever-perpetual blank stare, catching me in a really awkward moment.



Bluntly, I was in my house at Megaton, I am sitting on that one chair from the shack room, and wearing little more than a faded pink bathrobe and a makeshift turban to cover my damp hair.



We both spent several days out in the Wastes and all the accumulated dust and grime has been scrubbed down the moment we got back. I went in the bath first and was afterward waiting for Charon to finish his while I was sitting on the chair in the shack, letting my thoughts wander. However, my hands decided today that they wanted to wander too…



But before I even realized it, Charon was already at the door, crept silently I figure, and I quickly hugged my knees to my chest trying to cover up, feeling every bit as the teenager who’s been caught in the act.



Charon, instead of wearing his usual leather armor, was clad in a simple black t-shirt, which wasn’t actually black anymore due to age and repeated washing, and a pair of brahmin skin pants. The leather suit was being washed and hung to dry right then – it was caked with dirt and blood and who knew what else, to why I insisted so in the first place.



I keep getting surprised at how short Charon’s wash times tended to be, and by what I’m seeing, the tufts of hair he still has left on his scalp seem damp. Unfortunately it was afterward when I realized that bringing my knees up to my chest wasn’t doing any good in covering up and instead made it worse…



Meh. No sense hiding anymore. Setting my heels back down, I leaned on my hand with my elbow on the table to my left and looked up at Charon, who still hasn’t moved from his spot. Cue the stare down match. He won, too.



“Wandering for days on end gets exhausting. And the Wastelands don’t offer many private spots, you know…” I said with a slightly irritated sigh.



He slowly paced into the room with a demeanor vaguely reminiscent of someone who’s trying not to spook a scared animal, and while doing so he said:



“Last I remember, the outdoors certainly didn’t. Though we could have alleviated such unpleasant circumstances, if you wished so. As your employee, I should be offering my services to you.”



I weighed the intent behind those words. “What are you getting at exactly...?”



“May I be of assistance?”



A long-winded awkward silence ensued.



“You can’t be serious.” I finally stated, a grin creeping up my face.



That only prompted him to come up and kneel in front of me, placing his large hands on my thighs and looking squarely into my eyes.



“All I need is confirmation.” And I just couldn’t say no. Not when that penetrating gaze, still so impassive, yet now hiding behind the white glaze something undeniably wild.



If it were any other situation, I’d say this sliver of eagerness coming from Charon is simply unreal and fake. But this wouldn’t be our first time – not by a long shot.



I’ve always had this habit of being somewhat touchy-feely, and I was no stranger to inner workings of the human body being exposed. My father was the doctor back in the vault so I had gotten to see a fair lot of injuries during my time and ultimately learned to appreciate the body for the complex machine that it is; internal parts and all. Still, the sheer amount of decayed skin seen on my first ghoul needed getting used to, but it did eventually. Usual visits to Underworld gave me the opportunity to know the resident ghouls there more thoroughly and Charon in particular, whom I had hired for the sake of keeping a potential powerhouse on my side, I’ve grown most accustomed to.



Oftentimes we would tend to each others’ wounds, and there I get the chance to analyze him more profoundly than I otherwise would have. I was surprised to find that his condition’s not as fragile as I once expected it to be – the revealed muscles are not moist, nor is his skin flakey, something one would expect to find on a decaying body. In fact, the surface felt rough, the lining between the red flesh and dry skin was sealed firmly and didn’t peel back – I could smooth my hand over those spots, and it felt like touching leather. One that’s very warm, especially around the scarring. Indeed – Charon seems to be covered in leather rather than skin now that I think of it.



Whenever the chance arose, and depending if he’d stay still long enough, I took my time to examine his features: how parts of his vertebrae lay exposed around the map of blemishes on his back, how the white of his tendons stood out among the crimson. Frequently I find myself tracing the anatomy of his face, memorizing the shape of his jaw and cheekbones. And I will admit I’m surprised to say that he’s got a patience of a saint considering how long I tend to linger when inspecting something.



I took notice that most of the damage remained only on the surface – the fact that no muscle tissue or any internal organs seemed to be affected, but most surprising of all is that I couldn’t find a single infection or trace of actual gangrenous tissue, suggesting that the mutation that caused him to become a ghoul may have also granted him a super-strong immune system.



I’d expected to shy away a bit more with every little discovery that I’d find. In the sense of looking at a house from afar which seems all rosy until, getting closer, you start noticing every new crack in the plaster and maybe eventually find a roach here and there. Like saying ‘it is not that bad’ until you find your first maggot. I thought I’d keep my distance more and more with every defect I found, but it wasn’t that at all. Over time I’ve come to like and even crave his presence.



To be to the point, I eventually came to the realization that, yes, I’ve become attached to him. I can’t say – I won’t dare say that I’ve fallen in love with Charon, because from what I understand of the concept I’ve come to associate with something magical and overpowering. I certainly don’t feel like I’ll jump off a cliff for him, so if it’s still not love, than I can say that I do like him very much.



I’d often joke to myself in my head that I’ve never known I’m a necrophiliac until I met Charon.

I wasn’t sure how or when to drop the news on him but he kind of did it for me on one day which feels so distant now.



“I recognize that look. If I didn’t know any better I would summarize your behavior as being a… flirtatious one.”



I didn’t even know what I should have been more surprised of: the fact that he indirectly ‘made the first move’ with those words, or that he somehow sensed my intentions through my body language and called my bluff. “…You knew, huh?” was the only thing I was able to say right then.



“I speculated that it may have been worthy of mentioning.”



I should probably mention that I’ve had a talk with Charon quite a while ago that he should speak his mind more freely, extensively explaining to him that whatever he took note of may be valuable information, that whatever little detail may be used to our tactical advantage and should be brought to my attention. Basically ‘If you see something, say something’.



Things had a way of boomeranging their way back, didn’t they? I felt so embarrassed I thought for sure my face was red right then, but I didn’t feel like leaving that hidden question hanging out in the open so I bit the proverbial bullet and confirmed it was true.



“Yeah… I guess I’m becoming attracted to you.” There. I said it. Quick and painless like a band aid.



“Yes, I suppose it is natural to cling to someone who’s been saving your hide for the past several weeks.”



Oh yeah. Well, that’s true…



Before the silence went on for too long, I exaggerated theatrically my finger tapping – my non-verbal way of stating that something needs to be brought to the general attention.



“Sooo… What do we do about it? Just leave it at that?”



Charon looked at me in that specific way he tends to when he’s ready to say one of those rare speeches of his, and my attention was immediately focused.



“Well only you can decide that, not I. I’ve long been revoked of that privilege. After all, my function is first and foremost a slave, the title of ‘bodyguard’ merely being my specialty. My contract entitles you ownership over me, thus wherever you would go, I will follow. Whatever you order me to do, be it wait for months in a corner, join you in bed, or be it murdering an innocent for your satisfaction, I will obey…”



“Oh god, Charon, don’t even say that!” A chord struck in me and my hands flailed as if just that could usher the thought away “Not even if I were more infuriated than hell could I think up such a thing. Charon, you’ve been with me for so long, you know I’m not like tha- whoa. Whoa WHOA!”



I suddenly shouted backpedaling. I don’t know if it was just me, but I think his eyes widened a little at my outburst.



“Wait a minute, back up!” I’m partially sure my ears deceived me. “What do you mean ‘join in bed’? You can’t mean in ‘that’ way, right? You can’t work that way – not anymore, right?”



“I believe I’ve been quite clear. I just stated I will obey whatever order you give me, so if a partner in intimacy is what you wish, then I shall provide it.”



“Well, but… Carol once mentioned that you, as in ghouls” I quickly added “…don’t work ‘that way’ anymore. You know, as in, at ALL.” Or at least that’s what I thought she meant. Now that I think of it, she never said in what way exactly… So it could be interpreted otherwise.



“I assure you mistress, that apart from being sterile, I function properly.” Charon stated, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I looked back at him …only to notice that he started unbuckling his belt. “I can even prove it if that is your request.”



“NOnonono!” I stuttered, holding my hands up. “Heh. …that’s- That’s not necessary.” I let out a nervous laugh. Charon simply looked back up at me, remaining unmoved as ever.



I just couldn’t look at a man’s jewels just yet. Something about a guy casually pulling his pants down anywhere near me just… didn’t sit well with me. Though now that I think about it, I guess I should be more concerned about the goods looking a worse for wear.



“Okay, I believe you; I think I get the point.” I managed to calm down. “Just let me get this straight. You’re… ‘intact’?”



“Yes.” he casually realigned his belt before crossing his arms.



“The hardware’s in order but you just shoot blanks then.” Wait. I started snickering. “Oh dear. ‘Hard’-ware. I made a funny!” I was keeling over, but after a while I was noticing that I was the only one laughing at my joke, and Charon was watching me with the kind of look that said ‘are you done yet?’.



Once I’ve calmed down enough I said to him; “Heh. Let me think about it. Look, I don’t want to sound brisk or anything, but I want to ponder about this. I’m not saying ‘no’ to your offer, far from it!”



Indeed, if I’d ever think that he doesn’t have sex appeal, I’d be a big fat liar. Don’t think that I haven’t wondered about him that way at least once.



Still, I was ready to write him off as inaccessible and tell myself that we’ll only manage to be friends with benefits at most. But wow. This certainly changes everything.



“Plus, I think that you being sterile is a major bonus! You know how I hate kids…”



“Yes, I believe your attitude back at Little Lamplight was evidence enough.”



He was so right. By the end of the visit I was fuming! I couldn’t tolerate any one of those little brats! The idea of children was something that never appealed to me - I scoffed at the ‘Procreation is your civic duty’ signs back in the vault. On top of all that, every single boy there was an absolute asshole, so the notion that I’d have to bond with any one of them sooner or later was unthinkable. But I’m straying from the point now.



“Alright… Charon, you kinda’ dropped the news on my head like a ton of bricks, so I need to gather my bearings – come to terms with it. I mean, it’s quite sudden! You and me, barely friends then already we’re talking about… becoming lovers, basically. I mean, I like the idea, I love it, but I don’t want to feel like I’m being rushed into it.”



I’m surprised that he didn’t look elsewhere, much less actually pay attention to my long-winded rant. “As you wish. I shall wait patiently during you period of rumination until you have come to terms.”



“Thanks. …It would be my first time, afterall.”



There was something in his color-sapped eyes right then, before he reached out and held my hand in his. “You comprehend full well that it will hurt, I assume?”



“Yeah, guess it would. But I had bullets tear through my limbs before, so this can’t possibly be any worse.” I told, staring into his grey pupils before closing my eyes and nuzzled my forehead to his.



“I will do my best to lessen the pain, but still, inform me if it would hurt too much.” He said. "And if that won’t be the case, this I promise you, we will make love until neither of us can stand straight."



I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. “That better be a promise.”



It was only two days afterward that I managed to gather enough courage and, oh yeah, ran into a big skirmish with some Talon mercs, to finally take the jump. Now it shouldn’t have been a big problem …except that one of them had a missile launcher.



We came just an inch close to death, and then we had to dash, or should I say limp back home when we realized that particular fight wasted most of the stimpaks we had on handy and that we wouldn’t last long on such short supply.



As soon as we got back, we patched our wounds and promptly collapsed to sleep on the sofas. Once the dirt and grime had been scrubbed down and I had some time to meditate, I realized that I could’ve died right then and there. That tomorrow may be my last – or heck, maybe a few hours from now. That the worst one could do was hesitate instead living it up while it lasts.



But god I still felt like I was heading for the guillotine! We both doused a shotglass or two of whiskey, mostly for me to dissolve the inhibitions I still had.



I should probably mention that I hardly ever drink liquor - the only thing I even dared touch was the occasional wine. The only reason we would ever pack whiskey with us is because it’s a good antiseptic substitute. The high octane drink made me twitch all over and I bet my face was screwed up comically. Heavens, why would anyone drink this foul junk? And some people actually like it? Bhuh! Damn that burns! Charon however didn’t even so much as flinch. I think he’s inwardly smug about it too.



My legs were already warming up though and I felt the wave seep up to my head. We started kissing long and hard, Charon’s breath tasting like the whiskey we both drank. Collapsing on the bed in my room we tried wrestling each other’s clothes off – he smelled like gunpowder, ale, leather, and slight whiff of beef jerky. Or maybe that's what pure testosterone smells like...



We ended up making love like we promised. It hurt a bit at first like I thought it would, but it got better after a few times. And my god, I felt like my whole body was made of jelly and we were both panting heavily by the time he couldn’t go on any more.



I seriously didn’t expect Charon to last any longer than I thought he would, but wow this man has stamina. And he turns out to be quite vocal too…



~~~



“Whoah.” A surge of pleasure shot up my spine and I’m jolted out of my reverie as my legs twitched, prompting him to look up with those pale eyes. “Did it hurt?”



“Nonono, no. Keep going.” I say frantically to him to which he dives back down. However, he proceeded to keep fumbling my labia with his tongue, continuously missing the spot that sent chills through my body. Inwardly I find it a little funny – the expert marksman is out of his element it seems. My hand went to caress Charon’s scalp, smoothing over the still-damp patches of crimson hair. “Aim higher.” I whisper.



He did so and – oh yeah, that’s the spot… Taking the hint, he repositioned himself on the floor so that he’s not putting weight on his knees and I in turn scooted closer to let him reach more easily. The effect is immediate as he licks over my vulva and his hot breath exhales over the curls.



“Oh god, right there!” Definitely on the right track now, and I can’t help but lay my head back and moan as he licks. Again and again, again and again… making me teeter further towards the edge.



I want more! I tried widening my thighs even further and I place my leg on the table to my left. The clutter on the table though toppled to the floor. I’ll have to set them back later… Normally a pain in the ass, but right now? Meh. Big deal.



Lord knows what he could possibly make of all this. Still, I hope he’s enjoying himself at least half as much as I am.



~~~



“Whoah.” Came her shout as soon as I pressed my tongue and dragged upward.



“Did it hurt?” Did I press too hard? I wonder as I look up at her. It took me a moment to realize that her gasp was not out of pain.



“Nonono, no. Keep going.” She gasps and I could swear it was almost pleading. So the reaction’s the opposite then. I continued stimulating, pressing harder on the folds, but didn’t get the same effect I was hoping for.



I felt her hand come over my head, smoothing down atop it, her fingers twining with my hair, grabbing my attention.



“Aim higher.” She whispers.



So be it. Licking closer upwards, I’m surprised that the more I probe that strange little bud, the more she moans. I initially tried to avoid it - at first glance I thought it looked painful, that the inflammation would hurt if I touched it.



It’s not that case at all. Looking up, I see how her back arches and how the robe ever so discretely slid down off a shoulder. My backside and knees were starting to ache however, and I shifted in my spot. The effect’s immediate and my mistress leans her head back uttering delightful cries as I amass my efforts.



I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that such a little dot is causing so much for her! The more self-control she seems to lose, the more I feel like I shouldn’t be doing this – the notion of having someone basically at my mercy. I never before felt like I was pacing on the line between submissive and dominating and it’s brushing against something forbidden within my psyche. But I push that feeling back and focus on the task at hand.



I am no stranger to such acts. This is not the first time someone took me to bed, of course, nor the first employer who allowed me to engage in a relationship.



My contract has landed in many hands throughout the years, whether hand to hand, by blackmail or force is another matter, and one of my prior employers was a raider, top dog of her gang. She was the first to break the ice and put an end to my virginity. Now of course it wasn’t anything special – never anything frontal or truly intimate. It was not because she desired me; she was just a nymphomaniac no-moraled bitch who just wanted an outlet to vent her sexual frustrations on. I was a glorified blow-up doll in addition to being a bodyguard, being used while she most likely fantasized about some imaginary prettyboy smoothskin. ‘I didn’t buy you to talk.’ - she’d say.



Now how does this occasion differ from that? My current mistress, well she, to put it blunt, actually gives a damn. She has morals unlike anyone else in this god-forsaken hell-raised wasteland. I feel a sense of pride working for her and being her bodyguard.



…just not whenever she seems to have a death wish, of course.



It will be a real shame the day she would pass on my contract. It’s inevitable really, since I would outlive her, considering.



“Oh god, right there!” she almost shouts, breaking my reverie. A good reaction, so it must be working. Eventually she tries to scoot closer, but in doing so, it also resulted in her placing a leg over the table on the left. The phone, the three coffee mugs, the ashtray and pack of cigarettes, which I’ve never seen her use by the way, toppled to the floor. She is not at all a smoker, and I think she spent all that time cluttering those there just for the sake of decoration.



Once she stopped squirming on the seat, I could now ply back the folds revealing that little dot of meat. So this is the ‘magic button’? A heel between my shoulder blades and a fist pulling me forward from my hair echoed my lick. Yep.



She immediately smoothed her hand over my head as a sign of apology, but what surprised me more was that the sharp spike of pain from her hand in my hair jolted a wave of pleasure to my groin. Hmm… should remember that.



“Oh wonderful…” she breathed, and a growing sense of urgency is becoming evident. She moans and begins to cry out even louder, whole body twitching.



~~~



It feels like my head is whirling as my blood pressure increases, and I just can’t hold my cries in. I shout as surges go up and down my body… again and again and again… And he just won’t stop! I pray that he won’t. He just kept on stimulating me, riding out my orgasm up to the point I think I can’t take it anymore. Oh my, that relentless beast! What an animal!



I’m reduced to errand twitches and finally he slows down his assault and I almost slump out of my seat, bathrobe in disarray and wet hair a mess. It feels as if I’ve taken chems, but without the prospect of withdrawal and oh so much nicer and much less ‘vulgar’ for a lack of a better term.



“Phht. Pth. Phuah. Ptooey.”



I’m immediately pulled back to reality and looked down at him. “What?”



Charon’s wiping his mouth before glancing back up at me. “Hairs.” he said almost meekly before looking elsewhere, picking at strands from his lips.



Oh… god. I can’t take it. I’m laughing hysterically! It’s embarrassing really; I bet my face is beet red while I’m teetering in giggles! Calming down, I look back at him. He remained stoic and unmoving, almost… glaring. And I laugh even harder, clutching my sides! I can’t help it! O he just looks so… fussy!



From his spot at my lap, he casually lays his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me with those bleached irises.



… If there was ever a sight that not only was adorable but drop-dead sexy as well, it would be the one I’m seeing right now.



Straightening my back, I get more comfortable in my seat. Wow. That was the best orgasm I’ve had until now. It’s definitely an improvement in quality, I mused as I looked down at him. “We’ve learned something today, haven’t we?”



“That some tumors can actually work in our favor?”



My mind halted and did a double-take. And then it hit me.



“AhHAHAwhoa! You think that’s… Hahah!” Once again I’m doubled over in hysterics!



“Oh no no, Charon! It’s na-haha-tural! Oh- All women arehehe born with it! Haha! It’s called a- hahah-ah c-clitor-hah-is! A clitoris! Ohoh my god…” I just can’t help it! I guffawed more than ever! I think I heard him mutter: “I wasn’t aware of that.” under the howls of my laughing. Oh, we’ve got a long way to go. Eventually I calmed down again and upon seeing him, the face he’s making could only be best described as one whose manly ego just had a bruising.



“Hey. Come on. None of that. We’re not born all-knowing, anyway.” I cupped his cheeks in my hands and I proceeded in a cheery tone. “We’ll work on it! We’ll learn – through experimenting! …And having fun while we’re at it!”



Charon let out a sigh and held his hand on mine, his eyes looking elsewhere. “I suppose.” He mumbled. I deflated a little, feeling sorry.



Then the fact that I was clad in only a bathrobe made itself known with a chill up my spine.



“I’d better get dressed now; I’m starting to feel a draft. Oh hey. Tell you what. Once I finish making those custom grenades today, later you can practice your aim on my G-spot.”



THE END