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falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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F!Courier/Vulpes, non-con, pegging, public sex
(Anonymous) 2012-01-10 01:56 pm (UTC)(link)Bonus if once he's slumped panting in a puddle of his own semen, she looks up and declares that anyone else who steps out of line will get the same.
The Mighty Become Slaves 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-06 07:02 am (UTC)(link)Kinks: non-con, pegging, public sex
Summery: F!Courier wants the Legion gone/in her control, but with Vulpes as the de-facto leader, they’re not budging. Well, she was always fond of torture and pegging. They go well together. Vulpes will surrender the Legion to her.
----
The Courier was a woman. A powerful woman with sturdy arms and legs, who could hold her own, but to the Legion, she was just a woman. Women were silly creatures, prone to fits and insecurity. They had to be controlled, broken in, and used for pleasure. It became the Courier’s future as soon as she waltzed in, easy as you please, carrying guns and ammunition like a man, dragging in her captives, sneering like a man.
Once Caesar was done with her, he would either enslave her or execute her before their new regime. Both options were perfectly fine, but Vulpes preferred having her as a slave. He wanted to tear her down, see her hard face crumble and her flesh bleed. Caesar chuckled over his eagerness. Lucius only shook his head. Vulpes bared his teeth in a rickety smile.
“It’s not like you would have fun with her,” Lanius drawled from his position.
Vulpes’ lip curled. “Of course not, but torture is just as fun as your tawdry fun. She’ll get her comeuppance for bossing us around. And she’s a handsome enough woman. The men will be all over her.”
“Only you would call a woman handsome.”
----
Plans were just that. Plans. There was no assurance that they would work.
Hoover Dam was lost to them and to the NCR. They went back to The Fort to tend their wounds and battered pride. Night fell. They were either resting or eating when missiles crashed into their camp, setting tents and men on fire. They screamed. The others scrambled to action. Guns flashed and knives glittered and spears flew. Shouts and screams and bullets made ears ring. Securitrons exploded, causing many to fall with agonized screams. And they all lost track of each other. All they saw was flesh and blood and opportunity.
Chaos. And the Courier was looking on, a robot by her side, mouth harsh and pupils dilated with the rush of victory.
Vulpes caught glimpses of Caesar and couldn’t help but feel admiration. Caesar punched his way through the crowd of bots and men with teeth bared in challenge. Lanius was behind him, equally frightening, towering over mere men. It was going to be all right. They would win.
And Caesar fell. He crumbled in mid-punch. The hole in his forehead bled, running rivets down dim eyes. The Praetorians rushed to his aid and jumped back when Lanius fell, alive but severely wounded.
The Legion stopped, weapons lowered, as they stared at Caesar’s body. Vulpes was still. For once, his will was gone. He couldn’t. Just couldn’t move. Couldn’t keep battling in the name of Caesar. Caesar was dead.
“And The Legion falls!” the Courier shouted.
----
They were tossed into Caesar’s tent. It was disconcerting. They sat there, tied up, bleeding, dying and aching, but anger kept them alive. Their teeth were sharp as they cursed the Courier and her lackeys, but the Courier wasn’t there to hear their shouts. As the thugs explained, she was overseeing Lanius, most likely torturing him, but Lanius won’t ever submit.
Vulpes breathed easier.
The odor of grime and blood followed the Courier as she stepped in, grim and haggard. She sat on Caesar’s throne, legs crossed, chin in one hand. They were silent. The guns clicked. The remaining members of the Legion assumed they would all be shot in front of her for her sick pleasure.
“The NCR has fallen. The Legion has fallen. All of you are now mine.”
They said nothing.
“Caesar is dead. We threw his body to the coyotes. And despite all our best efforts, Lanius is dead.”
Vulpes just noticed the blood on her hands, the open pouches on her belt and the tools peeking from their pockets.
“He died without giving me control of you pissants,” she groused as she blew her hair out of her sweaty face. She looked through their ranks with sharp eyes.
Vulpes didn’t flinch when her gaze landed on him.
“And that makes Vulpes Inculta the de-facto leader.”
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-06 09:15 am (UTC)(link)The Mighty Become Slaves 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-07 05:06 am (UTC)(link)“Ah, I don’t think poor Lucius will be alive for much longer.”
Vulpes strained to get a look at Lucius. Indeed she was right. Lucius was too pale, too still, too quiet; his uniform torn, showing raw bullet wounds and quivering flesh. He was struggling to stay awake. Vulpes gritted his teeth.
“So, Vulpes, will you surrender quickly and quietly? I promise to let all of you live,” she cooed.
The commotion started up again. They would never surrender. Caesar and Lanius might be dead, but the ideals of the Legion were still very much alive, would continue to be alive until the last man fell.
She sneered. Her knuckles turned white as their shouts escalated, reedy from bruised throats and open wounds, but strong nevertheless. Vulpes felt lightheaded, but he continued to hurl insults at her. Her sneer turned into a slimy smile. Her fingers drummed against the worn-out armrests.
“All right, have it your way,” she said wryly. She snapped her fingers.
Her hired thugs dragged Vulpes to his feet. He didn’t struggle; he only stared at the Courier with cold, cold eyes. The eyes of the Legion were on him. Lucius’ head was turned towards him, a meaning look in his eyes that Vulpes couldn’t quite understand. His legs trembled as they started to move, but he managed to stay upright, wounded but dignified. Their fingers cruelly dug into his skin. She lingered on the chair, arrogantly leaning back; legs spread wide apart confidently, a petty smile playing on her dark lips.
“He’ll have fun.”
The Legion’s shouts subsided.
----
Vulpes bit his tongue. The burning prongs pressed against his chest, searing wounds and peeling skin. They pressed in harder. He hissed. The chains rattled.
“You’re being difficult,” she complained.
A burly thug turned towards her. “What do we do, Benni?”
“Benni…?” Vulpes murmured, fascinated by the woman’s name, having never heard it.
She looked at him, grey eyes dark with telltale fury. “It’s Bernice,” she spat.
He smiled a bit. “The same name as your almost-killer. How does it feel, Benni? Having something in common with that filth?”
“Not all that bad. Before his death, he gave me the idea of destroying the NCR and the Legion, freeing everybody from you bastards.”
Vulpes looked at her. He never really knew her. Nobody ever knew her. They all underestimated her. That was how she managed to do all this. He wondered how many NCR throats she slit.
“How many?” he rasped. “How many NCR dogs did you put down?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He coughed, pressure building in his chest. “Hsu and Kimball are definitely among them.”
“It was all for the best. The Mojave deserves to be independent.”
“Does it?” he whispered.
The butcher knife cut a line from his navel to his hip, twisting a little deeper at the Courier’s request. They kept at it, prongs and knives and fists used, but no traitorous words spilled from Vulpes’ throat. He only hissed and struggled, staring at the Courier all the while with half-closed eyes, her rust-red hair being the only thing he could focus on.
“Silus would have been a better opinion.”
Her scowl was only getting bigger. She spun on her heel, barking out orders for two brutes to follow her and for the biggest brute to continue his torture. Vulpes’ muffled scream followed her out.
----
All of the prisoners were dragged out. Lucius grunted, head lolling as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. All of them were.
It was mid-morning. They were all sprawled in front of hastily-made stand, cobbled together with leftover wood and rusty nails. Apprehension made their heads spin. Guns were trained on their heads. The mercenaries jeered at them, heckling them to make a move because they wanted to “shoot some shithead”.
They will. They’re not afraid of these dogs. But it would be best to lay low for now, to gather their strength.
Vulpes was dragged out, blinking and frowning at the sunlight. His eyes were bruised from the sleepless night, blood crusted below his nostrils, wrists swollen and lips cracked. He looked terrible, but his bloody grin was triumphant.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-07 06:02 am (UTC)(link)The Mighty Become Slaves 3/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-12 07:15 am (UTC)(link)He raised his face to her, eyes bright with an almost fever. “Are you going to execute me in front all of these people, Courier? That won’t do you any good, you know. The Legion will keep going,” he said, voice barely carrying over.
Her grin was toothy. “You bastards always went on and on about your women, how much you bastards loved to beat them, starve them, fuck them, just to get them to accept their position. How much you loved to publically make an example of the most unruly.”
The prisoners were quiet.
“What? You gonna whip him?”
It was Anthony, speaking through a swollen mouth. He grinned wolfishly. “Aint’ gonna do you no good, sweetheart, man’s as tough as nails.”
Others nodded. She howled with laughter. “You’re all a bunch of idiots! I know torturing this bastard won’t do me no good, but I know as well as you do that there are other ways of making prisoners talk.”
Her eyes were bright. “Vulpes Inculta will be made an example,” she said dryly. “Set him up for me, boys.”
The thugs set Vulpes on his stomach. It was almost a unanimous thought amongst the Legion. Vulpes was going to be whipped. His hands were tied behind his back. He grimaced. As if he could get away. The Courier grinned, stood up and went inside a nearby tent with a casual swing to her hips.
“A whip won’t hurt Vulpes.”
“Silence, Alerio, before you make things worse for Vulpes,” Lucius groaned, his voice hoarse, his breath ragged.
“Save your strength, Lucius, a woman isn’t capable of much harm,” Vulpes calmly replied back, warm cheek pressed hard against cold wood.
She returned, but she carried no whip in her hand, only a box. It was dropped in the hands of a mercenary. She stood in front of Vulpes, her dirt-smeared boot dangerously close to Vulpes’ head. With a roughened hand, she yanked Vulpes’ head up by the hair, forcing him to look at her. He grunted.
“Open the box. Show them.”
Most of them saw what was inside. The ones that stuck to The Fort didn’t understand, but the ones that traveled did. They were the ones that jeered and cursed. Lucius was grim. Vulpes blinked slowly.
“Are you going to beat me with a police baton? Haven’t we been down this road?”
She laughed, pulling his face closer and waited. Vulpes stilled. Before, it had looked blurry, black and rounded, like a police baton, but now, closer, it was one of those filthy whore toys. He recoiled, nausea rising in his stomach. He struggled to get on his feet, to fight and kill, but a mercenary held him down with his foot.
He heard her unclasping her armor, heard it fall somewhere, heard the rustle of fabric; all these sounds made his heart pound faster. Turned his eyes upwards and regretted it. She was bare from the waist down, showing crisscross scars running across sallow skin and bronzed muscles, that thing strapped tight around her hips. She licked her lips, gave him a razor-sharp smile and jutted out her hips, like this charade was something to be proud of.
“Remember, I gave you a choice.”
She dropped down to her knees behind him. Nobody said anything. Everything felt surreal but they still kept their eyes on them, giving Vulpes their attention, unafraid and unyielding. It gave him the resolve to bit down on any self-pity.
Her hands, cold and clinical, were on him, snagging on bloodied cloth as she lifted his hips, pressing his face harder into the wood, muffling any protests. The uniform was unceremoniously hiked up past his hips, baring battered skin to her eyes, paler than hers, thinner than hers. Vulpes flinched just a bit as her skinny fingers dipped into the waistband of his underwear, but his resolve kept him silent.
And then, he was practically bare in front of the men he had known for years—men he respected—men he had fought side by side with.
“You have a fuckable ass, Vulpes sweetie,” she crooned, mouth near his ear, warm breath irritating his too-sensitive ears. “How many of the boys here have had a taste?” she wondered, fingers playing along the swell of his ass.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 3/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-12 08:03 am (UTC)(link)Oh, yeeeeees. You can feel him starting to lose it. He's focusing only on what she'd doing to him. I can't wait to see what he'll do when it finally hits home that this IS happening. Oooh, I wonder if she'll be gentle, make sure he likes it, prepares him and makes him cum with her fingers before even putting that inside him. -squirms- Oh, he won't he able to forgive himself for that, will he, naughty Vulpes. Yes, you're as much of a man as anyone and you ARE breakable.
...*cough* Sorry. Got carried away there. Lovely fill. Please do carry on. 3
The Mighty Become Slaves 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-23 07:07 am (UTC)(link)She laughed. Her fingers, rough from grit and gun, pressed in, one by one. He shifted, turning his face further away from her, legs flexing in discomfort, whine caught in his throat.
“Oh, yes, you’re a tight one.”
Her words were revered whispers, thick with sadistic lust. Briefly, he thought about the woman he had known, the woman who had always flinched when she killed.
The fingers rubbed inside him, sometimes one circled or the other curled up, but all were moving up with a purpose, a purpose that made Vulpes tense up. She chuckled. And turned vulgar when she started fucking him with her fingers.
“You’re just like the whores you hate, Vulpes, I mean, look at how many fingers you can take without flinching.”
Vulpes groaned, embarrassment making him squeeze his eyes shut. Her other hand stroked his hip soothingly.
“But you are a virgin, aren’t you?” she whispered, voice husky. “I am going to be first and your last.”
His cock was stiffening, much to his revulsion. She was laughing, telling him it was a perfectly normal thing to happen to a slut. He could feel the precome dripping down to the ground, a cruel testament that his body wasn’t as unresponsive as he thought it was.
The fingers had found what they were searching for. It was something inside him that made him startle and sputter out hatred for what she was doing to him. The Legion faded to the back of his mind as she continued to stab her fingers against that something. He bit his lip. Vaguely, he could feel his hips moving in tandem with her fingers; feel his mouth opening to utter nothing, blood roaring in his ears and his cock softening.
No. Vulpes’ shoulders heaved. His knees felt a damning dampness.
She, the Courier—Benni—had made him orgasm.
The Courier’s head rested on his shoulder. “Was that fucking amazing?”
She stroked his sweat-sticky hair, like his mother used to do, as he gulped in air.
Through the pain and willpower and shame, the feeling of death washed over him. He might not survive this. His body might not. His mind might not. He didn’t want to survive this because that meant he would have to face them. He shuddered. It pressed against him. The coldness of that thing sent goosebumps up his arms. She moved it languidly up and down, just to get him to feel that, feel the size, the girth, the gross almost-rubber feel to it.
“Calm down, Vulpes, this won’t hurt all that much,” she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.
She spread him wide enough for some to see. He flushed with fury. His hands flexed. He wanted to claw out her throat. Kill her. Enslave her like she enslaved him.
Her hips stopped moving. “Do you want to surrender the Legion to me?” she whispered, “It’d be easy. You don’t have to go through this. You can just give in and feel no pain.”
“What kind of fool do you take me for?” he shot back, almost close to biting his tongue.
“Whatever. Just saying. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make it extra horrible for you.”
She flipped him over onto his back. No. He doesn’t want to look at her. He just wanted to suffer his torture in peace. His legs were spread wide, on either side of her, their positions making it easy for everyone to see everything. Her grin was wide and hungry.
“This is how you yourself would have done it. You would have made those girls suffer like never before.”
“You know that I’d never—”
His gurgling scream cut off his words. His back arched as he felt fire spreading up his spine and his stomach tightening with revulsion. The tip was inside him, moving inside bit by bit, letting him feel the slow stretching of his muscles. She was above him, eyes intent on his every expression, tongue out to taste. He shut his eyes; didn’t want her to see the pain. Didn’t want anybody to see it; wanted to cover himself up, so nobody saw that thing inside him.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-23 08:39 am (UTC)(link)God, this is just so hot and complex and violating and horrible and it's turning me on. Gah, I love seeing smug men broken by women.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-02-26 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)The Mighty Become Slaves 5/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-06 02:00 am (UTC)(link)The camp was spinning.
“Not enjoying this?”
She was eyeing his limp cock with a look akin to disgust. His laugh caught his throat. “How can I be? You’re so unappealing.”
The tip nudged that gland. He inhaled sharply.
“Ooh, was that pleasure I heard?”
She lazily moved again. The intense pleasure made him groan. Her coos fell soft on his ears. Again and again, she moved, hitting that thing inside him that made him dizzy with something that could be called desire. And he felt shame, but he felt pleasure and it felt good.
It shouldn’t.
He can’t enjoy this. He can’t let this woman win. He bit savagely into his lip, bringing forth blood and the familiar scent of blood. He knew blood. He knew war. He didn’t know surrender. He heard the Courier’s pissed off grunt. And he didn’t say anything when he was set back on his stomach, but his resolve was instantly broken when it pushed into him again. He grunted. The new angle reached deeper, harder against that spot, mixing equal parts pain and pleasure.
His cheek was rubbing against the wood, making it sting painfully, making it wet with something he didn’t care to know, as she fucked him. Her nails dug into his hips. His cock was pressing against his stomach, the precome cool on his skin. He tried to rein in his rampant emotions, tried to think about how the Legion would look upon him, about Caesar’s death, about revenge, but every thought melted away with every thrust.
Vulpes groaned. She moaned.
“You liked getting fucked,” she hissed, accusation in her voice. “Vulpes Inculta likes getting fucked like a whore,”
He snarled, mouth scraping against splinters. He bucked backwards. He can take the fucking, but he cannot take her accusations. She was the corrupt one, not him.
The Courier’s grasp on him weakened as she was startled by his sudden fight. It popped out. His chest tightened. It was painful, but he might just get somewhere, so he struggled more. Her hands found his hips moments later, digging painfully, almost clawing at them as she fought for control. Vulpes heard her bark out orders.
He fell forward, world spinning, gradually fading to nothing.
She shook him. He stirred. He opened his eyes. A flash of rusted metal winked in the sun. A power fist, some bastard had hit him with a power fist. His head ached so much that he didn’t flinch when it went inside him again. He only reacted when he figured out that he was naked. No more armor to keep him semi-hidden.
“Don’t be shy. Look. Everybody here loves it.”
She sighed contently. The Courier was being laughably gentle, giving bits of pleasure, moving without purpose, keeping her voice sweet. The grip on his hips was light. She even caressed the bruised skin, like a lover would.
He barked out a laugh. “You’re more unstable than I thought, Courier. I should have known by the way you clung to a robotic dog and a rotting corpse.”
The woman actually growled. Her thrust was cruel and he couldn’t help but moan. It carried over to the others. The mercenaries hooted, some of the whistled, some of them asked if he was free later. His face was burning. He didn’t dare think about what the others were thinking, but insults and slurs sneaked through his thoughts.
The Courier was moaning, voice cracking, like she was the one getting fucked. What skin touched his was hot, slick with sweat and rough from grime; he could feel the pressure of her breasts against his back, soft and yielding, unlike her. His cock twitched at the sensations. He felt ashamed, ears burning with humiliation, burning with the sound of her shameful moans.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 5/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-06 08:49 am (UTC)(link)The Mighty Become Slaves 6a/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-28 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)“I should whip you.”
She traced one with a trembling finger. “Did you drop to your knees, asking for mercy and found none? Or were you begging for it, begging for Caesar’s sweet discipline?”
He grunted, hips twitching as soon as she stopped moving. She laughed and continued to rock against Vulpes, eager to make him come.
Vulpes’ limbs jerked. He couldn’t help but utter small groans, so small that he imagined only he could hear them, but she was giggling. Vulpes hoped that all they could hear were her maddening giggles.
Her uneven nails dug into his skull as she painfully jerked his head backwards, so that they could make a bit of eye contact. She licked her lips.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?”
The Courier’s voice got louder, so that everybody could hear. “I can stop, you know. All you have to do is give up, step down and give me control of the Legion. Nothing will change, except that you’ll be my lapdog instead of Caesar’s.”
He sneered. Her eyes, though dark with lust and insanity, were sharper than most. He should have figured her out by the look in her eyes, known by the ambition and the zealous drive that he saw in there because while the Legion’s men are loyal to their own, they lie to all the others. They all have the same eyes. But he had kept his thoughts to himself. He had followed Caesar’s counsel.
And now, Caesar was dead. He was facedown, his cheek against wood, nude in front of them, while she laughed and enjoyed his misery—used him like a whore.
Her moans and breathless insults were loud as her hips moved without rhythm. Her skin was damp. Her nails, already chipped and sharp from scratching at him, dug even deeper into his hips. Vulpes shuddered, half-disgusted and half-relieved. It was about to end for them both and she was determined that he be the first. He bit the inside of his cheek.
“No.”
“What’s that, darling?” she cooed as she leaned in close to kiss the dip in his shoulder, tasting salt and dirt. She shuddered and let out a tiny giggle.
“You will never get me to hand the Legion over to you,” he hissed as he thrashed about, trying once again to throw her off balance with every ounce of strength he had left, because it was all about to end and he didn’t want to see the endgame.
Her mouth was near his ear, breath hot and ragged. He clumsily caught her lip between his teeth, drawing first blood from her. She smiled brightly as her hand forced his head down. “I don’t need your permission. Never did.”
Vulpes stopped resisting. He remained still and quiet, even when her hand briefly went to stroke his cock. Everything felt more intense now that he wasn’t fighting her—he could feel how thick it was—how painful it was—how pleasurable it was, despite the utter horror of it all. He could feel bile rising in his throat, but he also felt his testicles tightening up. Off-handedly, he mused about which one would come first. He hoped the vomit would.
Her next thrust sent tingles up his spine. He moaned. It felt more intense than those other ones, even when he was almost half-gone with lust before. His body had reached its limits. Hungry, tired, wounded and bruised and used, it just couldn’t keep on fighting; it had finally caved into her torture.
He managed a weary scowl as she moved him on his back. She wanted to see everything, wanted him to see everything and them to see everything, too. It slipped back inside him and it hurt, but not like before. He grunted.
Her face was sweaty. Thin strands of hair stuck to her flushed cheeks. Blood still shined in the spot where his teeth managed to break skin. Her mouth was open, tongue flickering over her bottom lip. Vulpes could only stare at her in fascination as he helplessly felt the escalating burn in his belly.
The Mighty Become Slaves 6b/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-28 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)His eyes were still closed. He didn’t want to face them or her—didn’t want to see the evidence of his orgasm. She withdrew from him, leaving him cold and bared to all; he didn’t even have the strength to close his legs. What did it matter, anyway?
Sweat trickled down his chin as he laid there, eyes blinking open to take in the full light of the sun. He turned his head. She was standing tall, clothes and armor back on, red hair dull in the brilliance of the sun, face grotesque, giddy and of course, triumphant.
Her boots were close to his hand. And he was lying at her feet, open and bare and bruised, like he was hers.
He was. She won and she never needed his surrender.
“Take a good long look, boys. This will be you. It will be your ass on display if you get too rebellious for my tastes. I own the fucking Legion now.”
Her voice boomed in his ears. He winced. He wondered when he will manage to get the strength to kill himself because he cannot see any point in staying alive, now that Caesar was gone and she was here. He wondered if she’ll let him. He coughed and it brought up blood.
His coughs brought attention back to himself.
“Get him out of here. I don’t want to deal with him right now.”
They hauled him up by his armpits, dragging him away from the stand, but not before she ran a hand down his face, saying good bye for now. His head lolled and he blearily blinked his eyes, the camp flittering in and out of his vision. Hands were on him, he dizzily thought, hands were on his naked flesh and he should care, but he didn’t.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 6b/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-28 06:53 pm (UTC)(link)You are a wizard.
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 6b/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-31 02:15 pm (UTC)(link)The Mighty Become Slaves 7/7
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 05:47 am (UTC)(link)They took him to Caesar’s tent. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the figures of several Legionnaires, some with several bruises, some with half-dazed looks and some furious. They all stilled when they saw him and broke out in several reactions. The younger ones, fresh from their training, sneered at him, thinking treacherous thoughts about his inability to bear her torture and condemning him to death. The older ones and the more neutral ones just looked at him thoughtfully, unsure what to do with him who was once one of Caesar’s most favored and skillful warriors. Lucius was among those ones. He was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and with questions on his tongue, but Vulpes was staring straight ahead and looking composed, as if nothing ever happen, as if this mid-morning never happened, as if his skin wasn’t marred with teeth marks, as if she wasn’t about to sit on Caesar’s chair and take control of them.
Afternoon sun flittered through the sun, warming clammy skin and soothing chills. They could hear her footsteps, made heavy with her dirt-smudged boots. Throwing aside their thoughts, they readied themselves. They will deal with Vulpes later and Vulpes will deal with himself later, too. Caesar was dead. The Courier was in command. But they were breathing and alive, struggling towards freedom, intent on killing her and avenging him.
Vulpes frowned as her footsteps got louder, feeling the throb of bite marks and scratches. He pushed his physical pain aside, pushed aside thoughts of his future, his apprehension and let the calm wash over him. Now was the time to think and survive if he ever hoped to redeem himself in the Legion’s eyes—either by killing her or dying by her hand, like a warrior not tarnished by disgrace and humility.
She parted the tent flaps, sated smile on her face, eyes solely on him. Vulpes stared back, body bruised and brittle, but his steady resolve and instinct to fight came back in an instant as they stared each other down.
Her smile widened.
----
I hope OP liked this. I had a blast writing it! Thanks for the amazing prompt!
Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 7/7
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 11:37 am (UTC)(link)Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 7/7
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 7/7
(Anonymous) 2012-05-25 02:22 am (UTC)(link)Re: The Mighty Become Slaves 7/7
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 01:38 pm (UTC)(link)