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

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No School Like Old School 6b/7

[(Anonymous)]

It seems to be this that breaks her. The moment the last sibilant sound has left his lips, she is kissing him, catching the words between them. She is uncertain but eager, and her hands in his shirt are pleading with him to guide her, so guide her he does. He turns and presses her against the door, moulding his rough lips against hers. There’s a gasp that dies in her throat, and the feeling of her hands running up his back to rest against his head. She doesn’t pull away when he presses his tongue forward. She doesn’t recoil in disgust. She doesn’t say no, doesn’t say it’s too far. She pushes his head closer to her and arches up against him, tasting like scotch and salt.

Breaking for air turns into him trailing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, murmuring old Spanish romances that he’d almost forgotten he knew. Her breathing is shallow and he hears her say, “Raul!”

His hands skim her sides, stroking the cloth of her dress. He wants more, God, he wants more. But no. Not unless it’s her idea. Not unless it comes from her. They’re both drunk enough that this should be a bad idea, and he will not plant ideas in her head. But when she shifts against him and bows her head, kissing the broken skin and exposed muscles of his neck, and whispers, “I want you, Raul. I want you to be...my first,” he’d have to be a fool not to want to take her at her word.

He picks her up, bodily, and carries her to the bed. He’s on top of her, then, bearing down, pressing her into another kiss. This time she’s less wary, and her tongue moves to meet his. She tugs at his shirt, desperate, and he wants to calm her down, make this right. He’s a man of old values and he wants her first time to mean something, wants her to know that he can stop if she’s not ready, wants her to know this is more than lust and booze. Still, she’s pulling at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, so he moves to help her take it off.

He imagines he’s not much of a sight to behold shirtless, but she’s running her hands over his chest like he’s the most beautiful thing she’s seen. She tries to pull him down and he resists her, only for a moment, before letting himself drop down.

“As good as you look in that dress, Gabriella, I want to see you out of it.”

It’s a fumble, and he has to move off her as she slips it off, but it’s worth it when she’s lying, naked except her underwear, below him. This is better than his idle daydreams. This is worth any number of years locked up by super mutants.

“Is it alright?” she asks, and it takes him a minute but he realises she’s talking about her body.

“Alright doesn’t cover it,” he tells her, his voice dropping to a growl as he looms over her. She shivers underneath him.

“Raul...”

“Digame.”

“I want...you...”

“Well, hey, boss,” he says, keeping his voice low, bringing his lips to the fabric of her bra. “You might’ve mentioned that. Can’t hurt to say it again though, huh?” He brings a hand up to rest against her breast, and she lets out a small, whimpering sound.

“Raul...”

“Calm down, mi querida, calm down. Raul Tejada is at your service.”