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Run Ragged

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Charon has to admit, she’s got a talent for running him down.
The Capital Wasteland is awful, and big enough that all the running around she needs to do is exhausting. Her little quests and need to help people used to bother him, until he figured it better than running Azhrukhal’s dirty work. At least she treats him like a person.
A person. He hadn't felt that way in a long, long time.
It’s a good day, for once, a day where they can relax in Megaton and she doesn't have to help anyone. He can take a minute to sink into the couch and sleep.
Which also gives him the opportunity to wake up with her soft hand on his chest and lips pressed gently against his forehead, late in the evening, as she wears only an overly large t-shirt as he far can see.
“What is it?” he mumbles, catching the wrist of the hand against his sternum. “Is something wrong?”
“I… no, I just…” Dakota Dawn turns faintly pink above him, embarrassed at being caught. “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t… I’m sorry.” She sinks down to sit next to him on the sofa, brushing long, straight, pale blonde hair back behind one ear. “I’m sorry for running you so ragged the past little while. I know you must be exhausted.”
She really does seem to care about him.
So much it hurts.
“I will be alright.” He wills the stiffness of his voice and mannerisms back. “I do what you need. You have my contra-”
Her soft lips touch his mouth, gently, at the corner, once.
“It still isn't right to drag you everywhere without thinking of how tired you must be. Always taking first watch.” She kisses his cheek, making him just barely shudder, trying to keep himself in check. “Always jumping in front when I need help.” The bridge of his nose, all that's left of it, is peppered with little kisses. “I’m sorry I didn't think of you, Charon.”
It’s his name on her lips that snaps his resolve. That makes him curl his hands around her upper arms and drag her against him fully, makes her catch herself against his chest and let out a sweet sigh as he kisses her.
He wants nothing more than to crush her into the couch cushions, take his time thoroughly wrecking her, make her scream his name, but for some reason, his body won't cooperate. He can't do anything more than secure his arms around her waist and open her mouth gently with his tongue, swallow her delicate little moans. Let her swing one leg up over his waist and straddle him.
She's so small on top of him, five feet nothing on top of his six feet eleven inches. One of his hands splays across the small of her back and holds her tight against him while her fingers wind into the collar of his shirt and pull him deeper into her mouth.
“Charon,” she says, breaking away and panting a little, eyes half closed. “I- I can’t, I can't make you, the contract. I don't want to make you,”
“You aren't,” he mumbles, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. “You didn't ask. I just did it.” Another kiss sends her eyes rolling back in her head, makes her toes curl where he can feel them against his thighs. “Let me. You can make up the weeks of running.”
Her giggle makes his chest feel tight. His throat dry.
“Say no, and I won't touch you ever again, Dakota.” he rasps, fingers trembling on her back and hip. “Say no, and you won't ever have to worry about me looking at you this way. Ever. Again.”
“What if I say yes?” she says, leaning to brush her lips to his.
“Then all you'll have to worry about is the looks people will give you in the morning after hearing you scream all night.”
She shivers a little, nodding frantically as she kisses up against his jaw.
“Say it, Dakota.” His hands tighten into her soft flesh. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Charon, yes, I want you!”
And that’s enough. He groans, and shifts her so that he can pick her up and stand, crossing the house and shoving open her bedroom door with one foot, trying to ignore the distraction of her kisses along his neck. Her bed is soft, and she wriggles happily down into the blankets under her when he lets her down, stretching her arms up to him to pull him down to her.
“Charon, Charon,” she says, her voice drawing him down into her, one enormous palm curving over her cheek as he kisses her.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting decades to taste you,” he rumbles, pulling back momentarily to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side of the room. Hers follows quickly, and he leaves bruising kisses down her neck and over her soft, round breasts, taking a moment to sink his teeth into her. “Fucking centuries, even.”
His growl reverberates up her spine, it feels like, as he kneels in front of her and pulls her legs open, hooking one knee over his elbow and kissing the inside of her other thigh. Her skin is warm, and the muscle trembles under his lips. The scent of her hot, wet cunt in front of him is making him half-crazy, so he leans in to swipe his tongue against her, thanking whatever possessed her to not wear anything under that enormous t-shirt.
“Were you expecting this?” he said, giving a chuckle that makes her shiver.
“N-no, I was going to go to bed and take care of myself after giving you a blanket… Oh, don't stop!” She arches up off the mattress when he slides a long, thick finger into her.
“You were going to touch yourself with me in the next room?” he asks.
“I do a lot,” she replies with a whimper in her voice. “I th-think about you, when I do. About how you look w-when you jump in front of me to keep me safe, oh! Charon!”
He can't bring himself to reply, afraid that if he does he's going to make a fool of himself. All he can do is groan and let his mouth fall open against her clit, tongue swirling over her, making her back bow upwards.
She tastes better than anyone else he's ever done this for, and her moans makes him palm his aching cock through his jeans. Another fingers slips alongside the second, stretching her out as he curls and scissors them inside of her.
“Charon, please!” She says his name sweetly, like no one else ever has. It makes his head swim.
“More?” Charon says, voice rasping, leaning his forehead against her thigh.
“Yes! Please, Charon, I want all of it. All of you. Please?”
God. She can’t keep doing this to him, he thinks, standing tall on his knees and unbuckling his belt, shoving his beaten up jeans and boxers down, watching her face as his cock springs free.
“I’m not sure how much of that I’ll be able to… fit.” she says, pink blush spreading across her freckled nose.
“We don't have to, Dakota.” he says, ready to stop if she needs, ready to go fuck his fist on the couch and stifle his noises to keep her from being uncomfortable. Whatever she wants. Whatever she needs.
“I want to! I want you, I need you, Charon, I need you,”
Her sweet babbling makes his dick twitch, and he pulls her by the knees until her hips are laying across the tops of his thighs as he sits back on the balls of his feet, cock resting along her slit.
“Please,” she whispers.
It takes a minute for him to calm himself enough before he can line himself up with her entrance and slide inside of her, inch by inch stretching her out. Her sweet cry makes him bend forward to kiss her, tongue opening her up as she clutches him closer, fingernails catching on his scars.
“You feel so good, so so good, you're so thick,” she whines, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Fuck. Fuck, Dakota.” he says, gripping her hips tightly. He’s sure he's going to leave bruises.
It takes a moment of working, but eventually he's bottomed out inside of her, her slender fingers twitching on his cheeks as his hips buck.
Dakota is spread out under him as he starts to slowly pump in and out of her, arms falling back above her head, hair spread out like a blonde halo around her head, blush spreading down her face and over her collarbones and breasts, making her look like she's glowing. The way she squeezes around him makes him feel like he's losing control of himself, like he's a virgin smoothskin fumbling under the sheets with the lights off.
“Harder, please?”
Her voice snaps him out of fog, and he snaps his hips harder, propping himself up with one hand planted next to her head as the other goes to rub against her clit. Hot shivers run up and down her spine as he does, and she curls against him.
“Charon, Charon, Charon, you're so good, you're so good to me, don't stop, oh, God!”
I’m going to fucking die, Charon thinks, panting against her throat as hangs his head between his shoulders to be closer to her. I’m going to explode and goddamn if it isn't going to be the happiest anyone has ever been when they die.
“You're so warm and perfect,” he says, giving a particularly firm shove against her clit that makes her walls clench around him.
“I-I, oh, oh! Charon, I'm going to c-c-come, please!” she gasps, and another second later, she has, tightening and throwing her head back, nails digging into his shoulders. Her eyes roll back, mouth open and inviting as he kisses her throat.
“I’m not going to last, Dakota,” he growls.
“Come inside me? Please?” she says, voice an almost whisper as she takes his cheeks in her hands and brings his eyes up to look at her.
He can't stop himself after that, bucking into her ferociously a few more times before spilling inside of her, coming with a rumble deep in his chest and a hot, open mouth kiss from Dakota.
Pulling out of her makes him groan, pushing himself up and to the side of her as he falls on the bed, curling an arm around her as he breathes heavily.
“Did that… did that make up for the weeks of walking?” she asks timidly, craning her head back to look up at him, curled up against his chest.
“You didn't really have to make that up to me. I don't mind the walking. Although,” he says, kissing her forehead. “If you're going to insist on making sure my time is worth it, you've found a perfect way to do it.”