Characters: Benny, F!courier Pairings: Benny/F!courier Kink: None, just good ol' sex
Benny proposes. Really.
"Where are you taking me?" the courier asked Benny for the umpteenth time. He clucked his tongue. The woman had no patience.
"We're just about there, Pussycat." He adjusted her blindfold to make sure it wasn't slipping. He opened the door and led her forward a few more feet, then stood to one side of her-- making sure he could still see her face-- and removed the blindfold.
The courier gasped, her expression everything he could have wanted. They were on the roof of the Tops, safely away from the corner of the building that had been lost during the war. She didn't take note of where they stood, though, entranced as she was by the spectacular view. The multicolored neon glow of the Strip cast upward to meet the night sky, where the brightest stars still shone despite the light from below. The moon was full, the breeze gentle, the view stunning. She didn't think anything could make the night better.
Benny led her forward a few more steps. A blanket was spread out there, an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two glasses awaiting them. She started to settle herself on the blanket, but Benny stopped her.
"Pussycat, ever since you rescued me from the Legion all I've been able to think about is you. And when you asked me to come back to Vegas after the battle, I thought I musta died and gone to heaven. I thought I was at the top. But you showed me," and at this he took her hands in his own, "that I hadn't even started living yet. You showed me, Pussycat, you taught me how much more there is for me now. Because now, there's you."
She smiled at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I feel the same way about you, Benny. I feel like-- that even if Doc Mitchell was the one who healed my head, that you were the one who brought me back to life." She looked deep into his eyes. "I love you, Benny."
"That's real good, honey baby," he replied, "'cause I've got somethin' to ask you." Still holding her hands, he went down on one knee. Her breath caught in her throat as he released one of her hands and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a ring that sparkled in the lights of Vegas. "Pussycat, will you marry me?"
She dropped to her knees before him and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest. "Yes! Yes, of course I will." She raised back up and Benny gently slid the ring onto her finger.
"You're mine now, Pussycat," he said, then he kissed her. "And I'm yours."
She kissed him back, her hands reaching under his jacket to slide along his back. Carefully he laid her back on the blanket. He gave himself a moment to look into her eyes, to stroke her hair. She was something else, his pussycat. He lowered his head to lip along her throat, pulling the neckline of her dress to one side so he could trail kisses along her collarbone. She moaned and fumbled with his jacket. He took the cue and sat up. He removed the jacket, tossing it aside, followed quickly by his tie and shirt. "More," she begged, her voice husky. He grinned at her, stood over her, and stripped to his tented boxers.
"That enough, Pussycat?" he asked, his eyes glinting.
She gave a smoky laugh and shook her head.
Obligingly, he slid his underwear off-- too slowly for her taste-- and tossed it on the pile of clothing. "How 'bout now?"
She drank in the sight of him, silhouetted against the colors of the Strip. Her gaze came to rest on his cock.
He could read the hunger in her eyes and knelt over her, a knee on each side of her thighs. He wrapped his hand around his cock. "This what you want?" he purred.
The Question, Part 1/?
Pairings: Benny/F!courier
Kink: None, just good ol' sex
Benny proposes. Really.
"Where are you taking me?" the courier asked Benny for the umpteenth time. He clucked his tongue. The woman had no patience.
"We're just about there, Pussycat." He adjusted her blindfold to make sure it wasn't slipping. He opened the door and led her forward a few more feet, then stood to one side of her-- making sure he could still see her face-- and removed the blindfold.
The courier gasped, her expression everything he could have wanted. They were on the roof of the Tops, safely away from the corner of the building that had been lost during the war. She didn't take note of where they stood, though, entranced as she was by the spectacular view. The multicolored neon glow of the Strip cast upward to meet the night sky, where the brightest stars still shone despite the light from below. The moon was full, the breeze gentle, the view stunning. She didn't think anything could make the night better.
Benny led her forward a few more steps. A blanket was spread out there, an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two glasses awaiting them. She started to settle herself on the blanket, but Benny stopped her.
"Pussycat, ever since you rescued me from the Legion all I've been able to think about is you. And when you asked me to come back to Vegas after the battle, I thought I musta died and gone to heaven. I thought I was at the top. But you showed me," and at this he took her hands in his own, "that I hadn't even started living yet. You showed me, Pussycat, you taught me how much more there is for me now. Because now, there's you."
She smiled at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I feel the same way about you, Benny. I feel like-- that even if Doc Mitchell was the one who healed my head, that you were the one who brought me back to life." She looked deep into his eyes. "I love you, Benny."
"That's real good, honey baby," he replied, "'cause I've got somethin' to ask you." Still holding her hands, he went down on one knee. Her breath caught in her throat as he released one of her hands and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a ring that sparkled in the lights of Vegas. "Pussycat, will you marry me?"
She dropped to her knees before him and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest. "Yes! Yes, of course I will." She raised back up and Benny gently slid the ring onto her finger.
"You're mine now, Pussycat," he said, then he kissed her. "And I'm yours."
She kissed him back, her hands reaching under his jacket to slide along his back. Carefully he laid her back on the blanket. He gave himself a moment to look into her eyes, to stroke her hair. She was something else, his pussycat. He lowered his head to lip along her throat, pulling the neckline of her dress to one side so he could trail kisses along her collarbone. She moaned and fumbled with his jacket. He took the cue and sat up. He removed the jacket, tossing it aside, followed quickly by his tie and shirt. "More," she begged, her voice husky. He grinned at her, stood over her, and stripped to his tented boxers.
"That enough, Pussycat?" he asked, his eyes glinting.
She gave a smoky laugh and shook her head.
Obligingly, he slid his underwear off-- too slowly for her taste-- and tossed it on the pile of clothing. "How 'bout now?"
She drank in the sight of him, silhouetted against the colors of the Strip. Her gaze came to rest on his cock.
He could read the hunger in her eyes and knelt over her, a knee on each side of her thighs. He wrapped his hand around his cock. "This what you want?" he purred.