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

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Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2a/?

[(Anonymous)]

They reached Megaton, Elle’s adopted hometown, just as the sun was starting to set. Her patchwork home was untouched since the last time they had visited. Charon had never quite understood the appeal of sleeping in a glorified tin can perched above the town, held up only by a few rickety beams, but he wasn’t going to question Elle, not when she looked so happy to be home again.

She kicked off her boots upon crossing the threshold and immediately flopped down on the threadbare couch, eyes closed and arms splayed. Charon sat at the table across from her and took the opportunity to study his employer further.

Elle was beautiful whenever he looked at her, even when she was bruised and bloody from combat. He thought back to a recent encounter with a particularly nasty group of raiders that had left Elle with a black eye and a swollen lip. She kept trying to push Charon away when he tried to look at her injuries, obviously embarrassed at the beating she had taken, but he didn’t care. Her good eye still burned with the fiery rage from battle, and that look was one that got him every time. Slim and fragile-looking as she may be, Charon knew better than to underestimate her, even from the beginning when she had purchased his contract. She was docile outside of combat, but there was no stopping her once she got going. The girl had a lot of pent-up frustration and knew exactly how to translate it into physical damage.

Now, as she lay on the couch like a ragdoll, Charon got to see a side of her that was rarely visible. Inside the walls of her home, she felt safer than she did anywhere else and it was apparent in the way she carried herself. In the wasteland, even when they settled down for the night, she was never fully at ease. There was always some muscle in her body that held tension, ever-ready to defend herself. Now that she finally felt safe, he wanted to kneel beside her and keep watch, to make sure she could actually relax for as long as possible.

As Charon sat there, he realized that none of his thoughts were sexual, a change from the previous weeks. Watching Elle, he felt oddly protective and not just in the way that his contract required. No, this protectiveness wasn’t just for her physical wellbeing, but for her emotional wellbeing as well. He wanted to stroke her long auburn hair that fanned out over the armrest of the couch, to trace her jaw gently with his ragged fingers, to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close to him. This girl was too good for the Capital Wasteland, and certainly too good for Charon.

Elle stirred and he quickly grabbed his shotgun, pretending to be maintaining his weapon rather than staring at her while she slept. As she sat up and stretched her arms above her head, the hem of her shirt lifted and revealed the pale, smooth skin of her stomach.

“Want to get a drink?” she yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Yes. He did very badly.