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This might be the night that I die
And I don’t want to die alone
So, come a little closer
I don’t even need to know your name
~~~~
Lucy’s heart is still racing. She almost misses when the Ghoul turns a corner. Only catches it out of her peripheral vision. And she only catches it because he’s nice enough to stop for her. Then she nearly bumps into him.
“Sorry, I—”
“I know,” he says. “C’mon. We’ll get a room and take it easy for the night. Figure out our next step in the morning.”
“Okie-dokie.”
She’s inclined to ask if they can stop anywhere to resupply their stock of drugs but decides against it. Instead, she follows him closely. They enter a building with a long vertical sign that reads Wrangler. Lucy stays back while the Ghoul negotiates for rooms and prices. She looks around, teetering back and forth on her feet. She’s getting itchy again.
Oh, fudge…
“This way,” he says when he walks back over to her.
She follows him up the stairs. Down the hall. He unlocks the door and it swings open. He steps aside for Luy to enter first. It’s a quaint little space. Though, most of the places they stay are. There’s only one bed. A small table surrounded by a couple simple chairs.
“It was either a room with two beds or a room with runnin’ water.”
“I concur with your final decision.”
“Figured ya might.” He falls into one of the chairs, propping his feet up on the table. “You can use the shower first.”
“Thank you.” He’s been oddly considerate lately. “And thank you for pulling me the rest of the way under that gate.”
“Wasn’t just gonna leave ya there. ‘Specially not after makin’ it this far.”
“Still, I—I appreciate it.” She looks around again, placing her hands on her hips. “Okie-dokie.” She drops her bag on the floor by the foot of the bed. Sits on the edge to remove her boots before making her way towards the bathroom. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Take all the time ya need.”
Hmm… Again with the courteousness. Not that Lucy wants to complain. Nor would she ever call him out on it. Perhaps this is just proof that they’re actually starting to get along. That he respects her. Maybe she could even consider them friends. She glances towards the bed, pressing her lips together. Nope. Now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts. She doubts he’d ever consent anyway.
She finally steps into the bathroom. “Uhm… There’s no door.”
“Huh. Reckon we can’t have all the commodities.”
“Asking for too much, right?”
She swears she catches wind of a breathless chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”
She does look. Peeks around the corner to find the Ghoul has covered his face with his hat, just like when he sleeps. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he did look, but she’ll keep that to herself. Much like every other strange and unexpected thought that she’s had about him. It’s difficult to say if she’s necessarily attracted to him, but there’s at least something that draws her in. Captures her attention.
Lucy starts undressing. Oh, shoot, she wishes she had other clothes to wear. It feels so silly to wash herself only to then put her dirty jumpsuit back on.
“Maybe I could shop around for some new clothes tomorrow,” she calls out. “I know you probably think that’s trivial but—”
“No, it’s a good idea. Get ya some Addictol, too.”
“What’s that?”
“It’ll help wean ya off the drugs.”
Right. Somehow, she’d almost forgotten about the itchy air. Her dry throat. The prickling beneath her skin. Perhaps she isn’t horny, after all, and it’s just the withdrawals. Or maybe it’s the withdrawals making her horny.
Gosh darn it.
Thinking about it certainly isn’t making it any better.
She finishes undressing. Quickly. Turns the water on before stepping into the tub and waits for it to at least get lukewarm. As much as she wants to take her sweet time, she doesn’t. Just scrubs down until her skin feels raw. It’s oddly satisfying seeing the brown-tinted water running down the drain until it’s mostly clear.
Then she nearly slips, letting out a yelp.
“You good in there?” he checks.
“Y-yeah, just slipped.” A pause. “Well, almost.” Lucy takes a deep breath. “Would you like me to leave the water on for you?”
“Done already?”
“Uh…yeah.”
She does leave the water running. Steps out of the tub, looking around for a towel. That’s when she actually slips because wet feet and old, musty tiles aren’t a great match. Before she can fall, though, the Ghoul catches her. His hands are on her midriff, gloved fingers just barely brushing under her breasts. She stops breathing. For a variety of reasons. Once she gets her breath back, she can only laugh.
“You okay?”
“Yes, just—Thank you.” He helps get her steady on her feet. That’s when she remembers she’s still very naked. Slowly wraps her arms around herself. “I couldn’t find a towel.”
His hands leave her body, and an overwhelming chill passes through her. A few moments later, he’s holding a threadbare towel in front of her.
“Oh. Thank you. Again.”
“Maybe dry those feet off first so ya don’t fall and break yer ass.”
Lucy laughs some more as she listens to him leave the bathroom. “That is…sound advice.” She dries off and wraps the towel tight around herself before stepping out. “Okie-dokie. All yours.”
She doesn’t look at him. Keeps her eyes turned down. Tries to ignore the sound of rustling as the Ghoul undresses. She swallows hard. Remembers the withdrawals. She feels…hazy. Buzzy. Bouncy. And when she turns on her heels, she also remembers there’s no door.
Perhaps just an innocent peek wouldn’t be so terrible.
She presses her lips together as she leans back to steal a glimpse of the enigmatic cowboy. Her breath catches as she takes in the sight of him. She was expecting the rest of his body to look like his face but it’s far more scarred. Bullet wounds and knife wounds and spots where it looks as if his skin had been gouged. She tilts her head curiously.
“Ain’t polite to stare,” he suddenly speaks up.
Lucy gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
“You forgettin’ those Vaultie manners o’ yours already?”
She covers her face with her hands, embarrassed, and nearly losing the towel. Catches the oversized cloth with one hand. “Fudge, I’m sorry. I—” She turns and he’s right there. Once again, sure forgets how to breathe as he walks past her. Nude. That was fast. “You—”
“Y’know, I get that I’m ugly, but—”
“What? Gosh, no, that’s not what I was thinking.” He scoffs. “It’s not. Honest.” He looks at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She dares to approach him. “Some of these marks…” She reaches for his arm, stopping when the Ghoul flinches at her approach. “They look as though they were carved out.”
“That’s ‘cause they were.”
“No offence, but I’m surprised you let anyone get that close to you.”
“Spent nearly thirty years buried alive. Bastard would dig me up once a year just to cut a piece o’ me off.”
“You couldn’t escape?”
“Limbs get a bit stiff after not usin’ ‘em for so long.”
“How did he catch you in the first place?”
“Cornered me. Lied ‘bout havin’ information.”
“Oh.” She swallows hard. Extends her hand again. This time, it does make contact. “Gosh, you’re so warm.”
“Radiation will do that.”
She licks her lips. “Have you ever been…close with someone?”
He raises his browbone. “What d’ya mean by that?”
Lucy isn’t sure what she’s thinking. He has a wife, for crying out loud. A wife who he has spent the last two hundred years searching for. Of course he’s never been close to another person. So, why the heck is she still touching him? Why can’t she stop thinking about how it would feel for him to touch her?
She clears her throat. “Never mind.”
“C’mon, speak yer mind.”
“It’s stupid.”
“That’s never stopped ya before.”
She scrunches her nose at him. “It’s just…” She clears her throat. “Have you ever thought about…us being closer?”
“Now, Miss MacLean, that’s an entirely different question.” He takes a single step towards her, leaving even less space between them. “Pretty sure those withdrawals are fuckin’ with yer sense o’ judgement.”
She shakes her head. “I think they just…” She moves her other hand, releasing the towel and allowing it to fall to the floor. “…subdue my fears and doubts.”
“Lucy,” he breathes.
“It’s okay.” She stops him from bending down to pick up the discarded item. “I want you to look at me.” Except his gaze won’t fall below her face. “I think you’re the first person to really see me. To know me.”
“I ain’t know nothin’ ‘bout ya, Sweetheart.”
Fudge. This was such a bad idea. Seriously, what the heck was she thinking?
She takes a step back only for the Ghoul’s hands to grab her waist and stop her. Her breath catches in her throat as he takes that step closer again. She licks her lips before pressing her hands to his bare chest. She softly traces the scarring. Follows every divot and crevice. He lets out what almost sounds like a content sigh, causing her to hold back a smile. She works her hands up over his shoulders. Down his arms. His skin is calloused yet, somehow, still smooth.
“What’s on yer mind now?” he soon asks.
She chuckles. “I don’t think you wanna know.”
“Try me.”
It feels more like baiting than a challenge. As if he’s testing her limits. Lucy hums, taking his hands. Thinks about how it’s the first time she’s seen them bare since she bit his finger off. Tilts her head as she notices his own discoloured replacement digit. She lifts his hand closer to her face. Holy moly…
“Is that my finger?”
“Well…it was. Ain’t anymore.”
She should be furious. Out of her mind with repulsion. Except she only laughs more. “What exactly was the thought process here? What was going through your mind when you made the conscious decision to sew my finger onto your hand?” She meets his gaze. Tries not to falter under the intensity of it. “Or were you simply that desperate for a replacement?”
“You’d proven yourself as an equal match when ya dared to use yer teeth on me.”
Something about that statement stokes the fire beneath her skin. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“It means ya earned my respect.”
“By biting off your finger?”
The Ghoul’s lips twitch into a small smile. “An honest exchange, remember?”
“Of course. And you…appreciate honesty.”
He hums. “I’ll ask again, darlin’: What’s on yer mind?”
Lucy presses her lips together once more. The air is too dry. So is her throat, for that matter. “You won’t like it.”
“How can ya be so sure?”
She isn’t sure. Not anymore. Not when they’ve both been standing in the middle of this room with no clothes on for longer than what could be considered socially acceptable. So, she takes a deep breath before touching her lips to his fingertips. She feels him freeze. Feels him stop breathing. Leans in to kiss his shoulder. She wants to press her lips to every scar. So, she works her way up his neck. His hands slide up her body. She shudders as his thumbs brush over her hardened nipples.
“You chose the worst time to stop talkin’,” he goes on.
“Actions speak louder than words, right?”
He takes her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Lucy, Sweetheart…” His tone sounds nearly desperate, and she loves that it’s because of her. “I need you to really think about this.”
“That’s the thing…” She shrugs her shoulders. “I have been thinking about this. Probably too much. And seeing you—” She smiles sheepishly. Regrettably, even, because she knows she shouldn’t want this. And not because he’s a ghoul but because he still has a family out there. A wife. Potentially within this very city. “It just makes me want you more,” she says anyway because he wants her to be honest.
He only shakes his head. “C’mon, you’re smarter than that.”
“I don’t wanna be smart about this.” And she dares to close the distance. To kiss him. It’s slow. Sensual. When it breaks, she licks her lips. “Just for tonight. Please.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
That’s when Lucy finally comes to her senses. When she steps away from him, causing his hands to drop back down to his sides. Why is she being so persistent? If she has to persuade him like this, then he must not actually want her. Not like that.
She folds her arms across her chest, attempting to cover herself. “I’m sorry.”
She turns her back on him. It would be so easy to just bend down and wrap herself back in the towel, but it’s not enough. She would still be too exposed. Too vulnerable. Before she can walk away, though, his hands are on her waist again. She holds her breath as she’s encased by his warmth once more. Closes her eyes as he presses his lips to her shoulder. Her neck. She tilts her head, giving him more space to work with.
If it’s such a bad idea, then why is he…?
“Just for tonight,” the Ghoul repeats, voice soft.
She covers his hands with her own. “Stop. Don’t do this just because you might feel a little guilty. I can handle rejection.”
“That ain’t the reason, Sweetheart. Far from.”
Oh. “Tell me why.”
He spins her around so she’s facing him again. “Because I want you.”
She swallows hard, nodding her head. Then his lips are back on hers. She wraps her arms around his neck as she reciprocates the kiss. Walks backwards until her legs hit the mattress. She gasps softly, allowing him to lick into her mouth. Her soft gasp turns into a moan, and he pulls her tighter to him. She can feel his half-hard member against her hipbone. It nearly makes her knees weak. Then he takes her face in his hands again as the kiss breaks.
“Lucy,” he breathes, and she decides it’s her favourite sound when he uses her name. “Have you—?”
“Yes,” she tells him, already knowing where that question was going. “I was married for a night.”
“A whole night, huh?”
He’s teasing her. “Not a memory I’d currently like to revisit.”
“Understood.” He smooths her hair back. Pushes her bangs out of her face. Away from her eyes. “How’re ya feelin’? Still got them drugs in yer system?”
“I won’t lie; I am experiencing withdrawals. Honestly, though, that’s making me want sex even more.”
The Ghoul hums. “Reckon you should have a clearer mind for somethin’ this.”
Lucy bites her tongue. Wraps her fingers around his wrists to pull his hands away from her face. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I said I wanted—”
“Sure, but you keep coming up with excuses. You’re overthinking it.”
“Am I?” She nods her head. “Just wanna make sure you’ve thought this through.”
With that, she decides to be bold. Slowly turns them around, guiding him to sit down on the mattress. Urging him to lean against the headboard. Finally, she takes in the full view of him. He seems to be doing the same with her. She tries not to allow her eyes to linger on his shaft. Tries not to notice the way it twitches. The way it’s already fully erect.
“D’ya got a plan here, Miss MacLean?”
Definitely not. For once, she’s simply doing whatever feels right in the moment. And this feels right. Between the uncomfortableness of her withdrawals and the uncertainty of what lies ahead… He’s the only thing that can calm her nerves. He’s the only person who’s been able to console her. Even if he was never trying; he still always helped her.
Wow. It’s astonishing to think how far they’ve come.
She starts to crawl over him, half-expecting him to stop her. To push her away. He doesn’t. So, she grows bolder. Lowers herself. Kisses along the scarring on his chest. Lightly drags her tongue through every valley and crater. She doesn’t want to focus on anything else. Only wants to memorise his skin. Wants to trace it and map it out until no landscape is unknown.
“Lucy.”
There’s a tone of reverence in the way he says her name this time. She glances up at him. The way he’s looking at her causes her heart to flutter. There’s an intensity in his gaze, but it’s different now. It’s not irritation or intolerable or conniving. It’s…passionate. Yearning. She wonders how long he’s also been thinking about this. Not that she’d ever ask. She’d never want to assume he’s been craving her the same way she’s been craving him. A desire that started as pure curiosity and has now blossomed into—
“C’mere, darlin’.”
She immediately goes to him. Settles her knees on either side of his hips. When Lucy leans forward, she traps his shaft between their bodies. He growls low in the back of this throat, pulling her in for another heated kiss. His hands find its way to the nape of her neck, and she decides she never wants him to let go.
It isn’t long before she separates their bodies just enough to sneak her hand between them. She gently takes his member only for the Ghoul to follow suit and take her wrist.
“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” he says. “Let me take care o’ you.”
“You can take care of me,” she strokes him from base to tip, “using this.”
“There are plenty o’ other ways. And, to be honest, I dunno if I’ll be able to control myself once—”
She can’t help the grin that pops onto her face. “Don’t worry about control.” She sits up. Keeps his shaft in her hand. “You can tell me to stop.”
He shakes his head. Slowly, at first, and then more resolutely. So, she lifts her hips and lines him up with her entrance. He’s thicker than her one-time husband, but she’s also wetter than she ever remembers being. It already feels incredible. Though, she has to pace herself. His hands are back at her waist, helping her. Guiding her. He slowly rolls his hips up as she continues working herself down his shaft.
“That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmurs encouragingly. “You’re doin’ so well.”
When their hips finally meet, they both let out loud groans. Lucy is already out of breath, and they haven’t even done anything yet. Gosh, he’s so warm. Throbbing softly. His hands rub up and down her thighs. It shouldn’t be so soothing considering how rough his skin is. Except she could melt into him. Nearly does, but she catches herself on his shoulders. He squeezes her thighs and she opens her eyes, unsure of when they’d even fallen shut.
Oh. There’s that look again.
“You okay?” he checks.
“Better than okay.”
He hums. “Good.”
Lucy starts rocking back and forth, dragging her insides along the length of him. His tip is hitting spots inside her she’s pretty sure have never been touched. Every sensation that courses through her with every thrust is new and exhilarating. Gosh, she wishes they had done this sooner. She wishes she could’ve been braver earlier.
He soon shifts their position ever so slightly, causing his shaft to push even deeper into her. Heck, she didn’t think that was possible. She cries out in pleasure. Mewls and whimpers as he takes over, thrusting up into her. Then his finger—or, technically, her finger—is on her clit. He rubs the swollen bud in time with his other movements, driving her wild.
“I’m so close,” she whispers.
“What was that?” the Ghoul asks, though his tone indicates he had heard her clearly. He sounds smug and she wants to hate it, but she can’t.
“I’m gonna cum,” she answers anyway.
“Go ahead, darlin’. Cum for me.”
She does. She drops down hard, taking him to the hilt as her inner walls clench and flutter around him. She continues grinding her hips as she rides out her orgasm. He keens in the back of his throat before she feels him pulsing. Then there’s warmth. There’s heat spreading through her. She groans at the thought of being filled by him. Doesn’t stop rolling her hips until he’s drained of his spend.
She falls forward, barely catching herself so she doesn’t hurt him. Not that she thinks her weight would do any damage to him whatsoever. Which is good since her own shaking arms can’t hold herself for too long. His arms immediately wind around her, and she has never felt more relaxed.
It’s incredible how someone as violent as the Ghoul can make her feel so…secure.
After they’ve taken the time to catch their breath and come down from their respective highs, he urges her off him. She reluctantly goes, too comfortable to want to move an inch. He makes a comment about Radaway, but she’s already half asleep. Not that she dozes for too long; it’s still dark out when she comes to.
The Ghoul is still in the bed, but he’s dressed now. Lucy tries not to feel disappointed. She does feel surprisingly clean between her thighs. Glances down at the floor to discover her discarded towel from earlier dirtied with their mess. For whatever reason, that makes her blush.
Proof that it truly happened.
“Feelin’ okay over there, Miss MacLean?” he breaks the silence.
“Feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, to be honest.” She rolls onto her side, facing him. “What about you?”
“Not bad, considerin’.”
“Not bad?”
He chuckles. “Don’t take it as an insult.”
“Then you need to give me something other than not bad. I mean, did you enjoy it?” A pause. “Do you regret it?”
He extends an arm, silently asking her to go to him. She does. She shifts until her still-naked body is pressed to his reclothed body. Lucy rests her head in the crook of his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else, so she slowly stars unbuttoning his shirt again.
“What d’ya think you’re doin’, Sweetheart?”
“I just wanna feel you.”
“Why?”
“Because your body felt nice against mine.”
“Pretty sure yer withdrawals are messin’ with yer judgement.”
“Yes, thank you. You’ve made those concerns known already. That’s not the case, though. The withdrawals make the air feel itchy. You make me feel…at ease.”
The Ghoul scoffs. “I’m the last person you should feel safe around.”
Lucy lay her hand flat on his chest. “I know. And I’m sorry. This is only supposed to be for tonight. It’s not supposed to mean anything, but—” She’s not sure what the end of that sentence is. What the exception is. A confession? What are either of them supposed to do with that? “I know we’re not sure what’s going to happen next, but I think I do know that I’d like to stick with you.” She shrugs her shoulders. “We make a good team.”
“Sure, you could say that.” He lets out a heavy sigh. Starts sitting up, so she sits up, as well. “Listen, Sweetheart, I—” He meets her gaze. “I agree. We make one helluva team. You’re a goddamn pain in my ass half the time, but…ya shoot the fuckin’ rope when it matters most.”
She smiles sheepishly. “Okie-dokie. No offence, but this praise is making me more nervous than anything.”
He tilts his head before reaching for her. Cradles her cheek in his hand. She covers his hand with her own, leaning into the touch. Into his warmth.
“Lucy… There’s somethin’ I need to come clean about.” He strokes her cheek gently. “It might make ya hate me all over again.”
“Try me,” she says, reiterating his words from earlier.
He lets out a half-hearted chuckle. So, she shifts closer to him. Shifts onto her knees so she can crawl towards him. Presses her forehead to his. Whatever happens…she can’t lose him. She can’t imagine not waking up in his presence. Can’t imagine never seeing him again. Not when she still has so many scars and burns left to outline.
“I’m listening with an open mind,” she goes on.
“Yeah, that’s part o’ the problem.”
Lucy understands what he means. She feels like she’s better about trusting people. Or…not trusting people. She can’t help wanting to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, though. The Ghoul isn’t any different. Despite everything. In fact, she may be more inclined to give him a chance because she knows what to expect from him. Because he doesn’t lie outright. Because they both appreciate honesty.
“Would you prefer I get angry with you?”
“I’d prefer ya get dressed and stop lookin’ at me with those doe-eyes.”
She pouts. “I’d prefer you stop stalling, as you seem to enjoy doing.”
His next chuckle is a bit more genuine. “All right, Vaultie. Here’s the thing…”