Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Crossroads (7b/9)

[(Anonymous)]

Exposed, she tried once more to break free. He stroked her almost tenderly before grasping her hip, holding her still. She gasped, trying to roll away from the rough hand feeling her. He forced his fingers into her body, and she sobbed. “Stop—Help—”

He laughed, low and cruel and hungry. She could feel him growing harder, pressed against the inside of her thigh. Adal looked to her kin again, pleading. She saw Jeth, standing slumped next to Santi as the Red men lashed him to the cross. He met her eyes, dead and staring. “Please—Jeth—” Her voice broke. “Husband, please, help—”

Jeth shuddered and turned away.

Fury bloomed in her, driving off the pain, the exhaustion burning away. She was screaming again, no longer words, just a long tear of rage and profanity. She bucked and thrashed, and the men holding her bore down. A hand closed on her throat, and she tried to snap and bite, a weight settling on her chest. He worked his fingers once more, stretching her wider, the feeling sending a hot thrill through her spine. Colored sparks ate at her vision, and she couldn’t cry out as he pushed into her, dry and painful. It was wrong, wrong, and she felt tears running from her eyes. A thin whine escaped her, a little rush of sick sensation catching her off guard

His face was wrapped and hidden, but she could smell his foul breath as he grunted, panting excitement. His hand slipped as he ground into her, and her senses returned, hearing screams and cries somewhere beyond. She screwed her eyes shut, wishing she were not here, that this was a nightmare. A piercing scream snapped her back to reality, a child—god, oh god, her boys, watching this happen. She fought to ignore the heat between her legs, not wanting it but not able to pull away, confused and revolted at the pleasure in the violation, her struggles growing weaker.

She heaved against them, but the grasping hands on her body were too greedy, clutching and feeling. She was unsure if it was blood that made his thrusts slide deep into her, smooth and sweet. Teeth gritted, she moaned through them as her back arched, hips rolling. He grunted as he spent himself, sounding like an animal, his last rough thrusts making her whimper and jerk.

One of the men holding her laughed as he withdrew. “Wanted to scream,” he said, still kneading and pinching at her breast. He let go to reach down into her, smearing his fingers with the juices there. “There’s enough of us, heathen, to make you scream until you want more.” He forced his fingers past her lips, and she fought on reflex. He was watching her, face only half-covered. She opened her mouth, biting hard on his fingers so that blood joined the taste of salt and musk.

They threw her down on the road. “We should keep this one, Livius,” the third said. The bitten one kicked her and swore, driving the air out of her. “Been a while since we’ve had one to tame.”

“No. The woman offered resistance, so she will die. There are no exceptions,” the commander said. She climbed to her knees, crawling for her discarded skirt. She fumbled at it, trying to wrap it around herself, not able to draw more than a sobbing breath. A hand closed on the back of her hood, choking her as he hauled on it. “Stand, woman.”

She tried to pull free, her limbs numb and distant. He struck her over the wounds in her back, and pain made her vision dark. Adal didn’t feel them drag her onto the cross, consciousness flickering fitfully, catching only glimpses of the Legion and Walker around her. She was sure she had died, hovering above them as they milled below, but wasn’t sure death should hurt so much. There was a scream, and she watched as though from a long ways off as Sen was raised beside her, broken leg unable to take the weight of his body. He screamed until he ran out of breath, sobbing as he tried to draw more.

Her chest and arms burned, her cuts and wounds gnawed at her. She watched, distant and incurious, as the Walker were marched away, under the weapons of the Legion. The children straggled at the back of the group, and she searched for her sons, eyesight blurred and dim. Her boys. Brave Ches, and clever Alam. Her boys.

She pulled at the ropes on her arms, already burning with strain. They were taking them, her sons, her boys…

Darkness.

Her boys…