It was over in a few steady thrusts. Charon couldn't remember the last time he'd came, nor whether that time had been with a woman or his own hand, but no matter how good it felt, it was ruined by how much the smoothskin struggled against the hot flood he released inside her; how she panted and strained under his hands.
It had to have been near an hour that Charon had started...and there would never be enough air in the room to swallow for his head to stop swimming – the feeling could very well have had more to do with the copious amount of guilt more than the physical exertion of fucking the girl so hard.
With clenched teeth Charon removed himself from her, feeling himself already soften immediately, as if his cock could hid inside him for the rest of his tepid existence in disgrace.
Silenced filled the bar as she aspirated and Charon gasped. Ahzrukhal remained unnaturally quiet and contemplative before Charon took the silence to heart, stuffing himself back in his pants; zipping and buckling himself with mechanical method. The girl didn't even move now that his hands were off her, just laid there breathing deep into the table.
Red marks where Charon's hands had been were growing ugly on her back and rear; another reminder of what just happened.
So many days, months and years of the same routine had nearly caused him to miss her at first. The bar doors had opened, and yes, he'd spared a glance but the thing he'd seen didn't sink in until well into her conversation with his employer.
A girl...a smoothskin. Un-severed skin covered her limbs, graced her face with small freckles and a still optimistically youthful smile. Those eyes told Charon she'd yet to see the real horrors of this world...and his first definition of her aside from 'smoothskin woman' was 'vault dweller' – the third one was 'pretty', if unconventionally so.
There was no real physical attraction to her, but as with anything that was nice to look at, Charon looked until she'd left with a forced smile and an angry glint in her eyes, leaving Ahzrukhal fuming in his cream suit the rest of the night.
He didn't have to guess what had happened – it wasn't the first time Ahzrukhal had offered chems to an outsider and been insulted for it, but Charon couldn't remember it being from someone so unlike his typical consumer. The fact that she was a woman and nice on the eyes probably didn't help either.
Charon found her interesting instantly at least until she'd came in the second time.
She started with accusations, Patchwork fidgeting behind her as she dumped a sack of caps on the bar with a nasty bit of speech Charon wouldn't have expected from someone who looked so...innocent.
“I've paid his tab, now you keep your rotten fuckin' fingers off his caps!” Charon watched her point back to Patchwork, who froze as if she'd punched him before the barest of smiles crossed his face when she mentioned him so protectively.
So she was a bleeding heart was she? Charon would have smirked if decorum didn't keep him straight faced while in his corner.
She continued with an edge to her voice, “I mean really. Taking advantage of hopelessness like a leech on a Brahmin's ass. You're no better than the poison you sell.”
Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 9/?
It was over in a few steady thrusts. Charon couldn't remember the last time he'd came, nor whether that time had been with a woman or his own hand, but no matter how good it felt, it was ruined by how much the smoothskin struggled against the hot flood he released inside her; how she panted and strained under his hands.
It had to have been near an hour that Charon had started...and there would never be enough air in the room to swallow for his head to stop swimming – the feeling could very well have had more to do with the copious amount of guilt more than the physical exertion of fucking the girl so hard.
With clenched teeth Charon removed himself from her, feeling himself already soften immediately, as if his cock could hid inside him for the rest of his tepid existence in disgrace.
Silenced filled the bar as she aspirated and Charon gasped. Ahzrukhal remained unnaturally quiet and contemplative before Charon took the silence to heart, stuffing himself back in his pants; zipping and buckling himself with mechanical method. The girl didn't even move now that his hands were off her, just laid there breathing deep into the table.
Red marks where Charon's hands had been were growing ugly on her back and rear; another reminder of what just happened.
So many days, months and years of the same routine had nearly caused him to miss her at first. The bar doors had opened, and yes, he'd spared a glance but the thing he'd seen didn't sink in until well into her conversation with his employer.
A girl...a smoothskin. Un-severed skin covered her limbs, graced her face with small freckles and a still optimistically youthful smile. Those eyes told Charon she'd yet to see the real horrors of this world...and his first definition of her aside from 'smoothskin woman' was 'vault dweller' – the third one was 'pretty', if unconventionally so.
There was no real physical attraction to her, but as with anything that was nice to look at, Charon looked until she'd left with a forced smile and an angry glint in her eyes, leaving Ahzrukhal fuming in his cream suit the rest of the night.
He didn't have to guess what had happened – it wasn't the first time Ahzrukhal had offered chems to an outsider and been insulted for it, but Charon couldn't remember it being from someone so unlike his typical consumer. The fact that she was a woman and nice on the eyes probably didn't help either.
Charon found her interesting instantly at least until she'd came in the second time.
She started with accusations, Patchwork fidgeting behind her as she dumped a sack of caps on the bar with a nasty bit of speech Charon wouldn't have expected from someone who looked so...innocent.
“I've paid his tab, now you keep your rotten fuckin' fingers off his caps!” Charon watched her point back to Patchwork, who froze as if she'd punched him before the barest of smiles crossed his face when she mentioned him so protectively.
So she was a bleeding heart was she? Charon would have smirked if decorum didn't keep him straight faced while in his corner.
She continued with an edge to her voice, “I mean really. Taking advantage of hopelessness like a leech on a Brahmin's ass. You're no better than the poison you sell.”