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The first time he'd seen Abelone fully naked, Charon thought he wouldn't care less. They'd only been traveling together about about a year at that point, a month of that with her spent in a coma after the events with the Enclave and Project Purity. He'd seen her in different stages of undress already; pants shed to stitch up wounds, shirt shrugged off when they'd bathe in a river, wearing only her underwear when it was too hot in her shack in Megaton for anything else. The Capitol Wastelands didn't afford privacy and he'd seen enough of her that he thought it wouldn't get to him to see her fully nude.
So when they'd finally returned home to begin a somewhat normal life after she survived her fight with the water purifier, the ghoul believed himself immune to whatever he might glimpse. Looking back, he laughs at himself for thinking such things.
Lone had asked Wadsworth to draw her a bath while she shrugged off her pack. The month spent in a coma had robbed her of much of the muscles she'd gained since leaving the vault and the radiation poisoning had caused her to become lethargic. Charon knew she would have never made it back to Megaton without him, a thought that filled him with more pride than it should have. She was much more quiet than normal, which was saying something considering how much she normally kept to herself. He'd known she was exhausted and in pain but watching her silently climb the stairs up to the tub had driven the point home.
At the time, he'd told himself that he shouldn't care. That they weren't friends, that they were simply employee and employer. She was alive and that's all that should have mattered. He'd done his job as her bodyguard. But the fact that she'd almost died, only surviving due to some dumb experiment that Moira had put her through long before he'd ever met her and some cybernetics she'd had implanted, made the thought sour. He hadn't really protected her at all. He'd stood on the other side of the glass and watched the room flood with radiation as her tanned skin seemed to near instantaneously fade into the blueish color it was stained with now.
"Fuck," her voice carried from the room above him, accompanied by the noise of something falling. It was close to a sob. Something like he'd hear from her room sometimes when she thought he was asleep. It reminded him of the few times she'd clung to him late at night during a storm. A word tinged with fear and pain. Her next word came out just as broken, and the ghoul didn't hesitate to venture up to her. "Charon?"
"Yes, mistress?" She'd asked him not to call her that but that habit had been ingrained in him for too long. When he stepped in the doorway, he watched her small scowl turn into a deep frown at the word but she didn't comment on it. She just looked up at him, sitting on an old chair and unlacing her boots.
Her eyes were full of unshed tears when she stood, "Will you sit in here with me?" She asked, unfastening her chest piece. "I feel like I'm going to pass out and need you to keep an eye on me."
"As you wish," it was another automatic phrase that she hated. He knew it bothered her.
"It's not a command," she said sheepishly, turning her back to him to haul the metal piece over her head. Charon sunk down in the chair, waiting for her to gather herself. "It's a request. If you're uncomfortable, you can send Wadsworth up."
"I do not trust the robot to save you should you pass out in the water," he stated firmly. He watched her shoulders sink, resigned to the fact that even if he were uncomfortable he wouldn't leave. He wasn't uncomfortable though, told himself he had no reason to be, but watching her hand pull down the zipper of her vault suit made him reconsider.
"You're under no obligation to save me," she snorted, turning to face him. Her suit was zipped halfway down, exposing a triangle of soft, pale skin that started at her collarbone and ended at her navel. Some part of him took note of the scars running over her chest. Each one could be associated with a memory he had of her, most of them ones he'd treated himself. They were all fresh, something she'd gained in the year or so since leaving the vault. All but one. A thin, surgical line that ran up chest and right between her breasts. Proof she had a heart but one that hadn't always been kind to her. He was committing each scar to memory when she began taking off her wrist guards, blocking off his view.
"You do not trust me to protect you?" He asked, his voice hoarse. There was a twinge of uncertainty there, be it from the contract or his own conflicted feelings towards the woman. His earlier musings seemed to have been more pressing than he'd realized. His failure to properly protect her gnawing at him. "Have I not proven myself?"
She'd laughed, actually laughed, "I've trusted you since the day we started traveling together." She dropped the first wrist guard on the floor and began working on the next. "I trust you with my life. I just don't trust you to be honest when you don't want to do something."
He grunted in response, rolling his eyes. This had always been their relationship. Her reassuring him that he didn't need to do something, him doing it anyway. Yet as time went on, as months stretched into a year together, he found himself taking advantage of the autonomy she showed him. He was capable of saying no when she gave him one of her carefully worded requests.
"I just wanna make sure you're okay with this," she said quietly as she bent over to lean one hand against the rim of the tub, dipping the other in to test the temperature. Charon watched her, reminding himself that despite being treated as a tool for nearly two centuries, he was still just a man. Lone was beautiful, even as broken and bruised as she was. When she turned back to him, the look she gave had him rooted to his spot. "You sure you're okay?"
He didn't try to hide the fact that he was staring at her. How could he? Lone was one of the most perceptive people he'd ever met and it didn't take VATS to be able to see where his eyes traced over her. Besides, they'd been together long enough that she knew underneath his stoicism and automaton facade, he was just a man.
Her hair was shorter back then, falling just below her shoulders. Still too long to be practical but she'd insisted that it meant too much to her to cut it. Her skin dusted with freckles, once brown that blended in with her tan but looked almost black against her pallid skin. Back then, she hadn't had the long scar running across her throat - that would come later, another year down the road - and Charon caught himself admiring the unblemished skin there before his gaze traveled back down to the scar on her chest. If she noticed him staring, she didn't protest.
"I am comfortable," he rasped, settling back into the chair as if to prove the point.
"Good," she breathed, turning around again. With trembling hands, she began to push the fabric of her vault suit away from her shoulders and the ghoul felt himself swallow hard. He'd seen her back before, seen most of her actually, but it had always been a very clinical way. Never had he been afforded the luxury of just seeing her without the looming threat of the wastes or the possibility she might bleed out.
"Are you uncomfortable?" He watched her hands struggle with the fabric as they shook.
"No. Just tired," she smiled back at him, sliding her thumbs under the fabric of her suit and tugging it lower. Charon watched as she stepped out of the garment, not bothering to pick it up. That was the first time he had really taken note of her past the point of just mere observation; her waist a delicate curve defined by what muscle she still had left, her hips wide, her thighs thick and calves tensed to show their definition. His gaze traveled over her while his mind conjured up less than appropriate images of what they could be doing. Her voice startled him when she finally spoke, "Thank you. You’re amazing."
"There is no reason to thank me," he replied, his tone slightly bitter. She couldn't possibly mean that, he told himself. Not when she was standing in front of him completely naked while he unashamedly watched. She was hurt, still recovering, and he was taking full advantage of what little power he held in the situation. But a small part of him knew she meant it, that she hadn’t lied to him yet.
For a moment, Abelone seemed at a loss of words but she just shook her head as she stepped into the tub carefully. "There’s every reason to thank you, big guy," she winced as she lowered herself into the bath. "God, this feels nice," she groaned quietly, sinking lower until she was almost completely submerged. She rolled her head to the side to look at him. "What would you do if you were free of the contract?"
He hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was some sort of trick or trap set up by the woman. She'd never given him reason to believe she would play such mind games but still he treaded carefully. "I would leave," he chose to answer honestly. "But this question is a waste of time. I am not free. My life is not my own, it belongs to you."
"I don't own you," she mumbled, reaching over to a bar of soap on the table beside them. "I've told you already, I don't care about the contract."
"The contract is not about ownership, it is about service," Charon took out a cigarette, lit it with a match, and took a drag. "I am bound to you, and to whoever else it may belong to after you. It is not about what you want, or what I want. I do not exist for myself. I exist for the person who holds my contract."
"Do you..." she paused for a moment to lather the soap against her skin. "Do you like working with me? Or do you just tolerate me?"
He exhaled a plume of smoke as he thought about her question. "You are my employer. I follow your orders and protect you. This is your contract, which you paid for, therefore I perform my duties. There is nothing more to it than that."
When she turned back to look at him, there was a hurt, almost vulnerable look to her eyes. "We've been together a year now. You really don't feel anything other than duty for me?"
Charon watched her silently, he didn't answer for a moment. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette. "Why do you care how I feel?" The words sounded cold.
"I want you to feel like you have a home here," Abelone replied sheepishly. "I didn't buy your contract to keep you like a pet. I want you to be able to live life."
"I do not need a home," he said after a while, his expression unchanged. "My life is not my own. As long as I am in service to you, it is enough."
"What if I ordered you to enjoy life?" She laughed, scrubbing away the dirt and grime from her arms.
"Then I would comply," he spoke in that same flat, emotionless tone. "But what would be the point?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, wincing when she hit a tender spot on her elbow. She was quiet again before she looked over at him from the corner of her eyes. "You deserve to be happy, big guy. I want you to be happy... with me."
"As long as I carry out my duties, I am satisfied," he said after a moment, but his tone didn't quite match his words. He took another drag of his cigarette, and his expression didn't change. "That is all I need. Happiness means very little to me."
"You're impossible," she laughed bitterly. "Someday, somehow, I'm going to make sure you're truly happy."
"You will not succeed," Charon looked down at her, his head cocked to the side a bit. He still didn't emote, but he seemed a little bit confused to hear her talk about making him happy. "I do not understand why this is such an important matter to you."
Years later, Charon could kick himself for not realizing why it was important to her. As he sits in the same shack in the same town with the same woman, the signs are obvious. She’s proven him wrong a few hundred times over, keeping her promise to make him happy. Had she been in love with him even then? When he had been so cold and dismissive of her?
Lately, he's been finding himself thinking about the past more and more. More accurately, the past three years with Abelone. They're fast approaching the fourth anniversary of her acquiring his contract. It's August now. Just another few months until the day. They don't celebrate it because who celebrates buying another person? But it doesn't go unacknowledged. Maybe one day they'll settle on an actual anniversary but that's a discussion for another time.
Charon glances down at the woman pressed against his chest. It’s raining outside, she’s been clinging to him since the first storm cloud rolled in, but it's not like normal. The rain is soft and any panic she’s feeling hasn't hit her yet. She's been quiet though, lost in thought while she traces her fingers over his chest. Never in his life would Charon have imagined himself in such a domestic scene; nothing inherently sexual about it despite them both being naked. She's just there with him.
Lone seems almost entranced by her own fingers against his skin. The contrast of her soft hands against his ruined body. The ghoul has to remind himself she's seen him like this hundreds of times by now and never shown any disgust. But the juxtaposition of their bodies is enough to remind him just how different they are. Still, he lets her continue without complaint, savoring every moment he can steal away. They'll be leaving soon, he knows. Off on another adventure outside of Megaton and away from the safety of their shack.
Thunder rumbles in the distance and he feels her fingertips dig into his flesh slightly. He rubs small circles on her lower back, tracing coiled muscles and rough scars in an attempt to reassure her. When she glances up at him, the smile on her face is soft.
Charon will never get used to this feeling. He's already lived several lifetimes, and he knows that if he lives several more, moments like this will always feel foreign. He's been without choice for too long, been without luxuries or love. Abelone must be a damned fool to give it all to him so freely but it's too late to give it back now that he's had a taste of it.
"Want to join me for a bath?" Abelone offers, stretching her arms over her head. He watches as a bead of sweat rolls down her neck, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"Very well," he responds as if he isn't eager to join her. Despite the small reprieve that the rain has provided, it's still summer and the air is humid and hot. Charon slowly rises from the bed, making his way over to the bathroom door, and standing there to wait for her.
"Hopefully the storm won't be too bad," she comments, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from her nightstand. She follows him into the small bathroom and stands in front of the tub to begin running a cool bath. Pressing a cigarette between her lips, she offers one to Charon.
The ghoul watches her movements closely, standing there silently for a moment, then reaches out, taking the cigarette. She lights hers, then his, her eyes drifting towards the slowly filling tub. He can tell her shoulders are tensed with nerves, each roll of thunder growing louder as the storm approaches. Lone has gotten better about handling mother nature's most natural elements but the fear has never left her.
How many times has he seen her like this? How many times has he watched her hide her discomfort so as not to burden him? Too many, he thinks. They’re together now, have been for a while, yet she still skirts around anything she thinks might make him uncomfortable. Emotions, commands, fear. Things she should be able to share with him freely but doesn't due to the thing that has hung over their entire relationship.
The contract.
An old and worn out piece of paper that was barely legible anymore. A relic of his life before the war. When he'd grown up in a cult and not a home. A reminder of years of abuse. It was always there, always present and influencing both of their lives. Even if she pretended it didn't exist. He'd gotten good at acting as if it didn't exist as well, but sometimes it worked it's way back into his mind.
He moves over to the tub, sidestepping Lone and turning off the tap. Slowly, he sits down in the water and motions for her to join him. They'd been naked most of the day, the sweltering heat of the summer forcing them to strip down to nothing. Abelone watches as he slowly exhales after a long drag of his cigarette, his face relaxed, a bit of the tension leaving him. In the distance, they can hear thunder rumbling again. He watches with rapt curiosity as she sinks into the tub with him and mimics him, relaxing back against his chest with a cloud of smoke billowing around her.
"I think I could fall asleep right here," she hums as she sinks further into his chest. The tension in her shoulder slowly dissipates, making way for a calm and content expression on her face. He wraps an arm around Abelone's body, hand resting gently on her back, his fingers grazing her shoulders. They sit in the tub together, in silence, listening to the storm outside, as rain pangs against the metal roof.
Charon studies her. The swell of her breasts. The scars on her back and neck. Abelone takes another drag of her cigarette, looking back at him, smirking. The cigarette dangles from his lips as he runs his hands over her neck, caressing the scar there.
Two years into their contract, they'd somehow gotten themselves tangled up with a group of raiders looking to take control of Grayditch. The town had rebuilt, becoming a prosperous settlement that stood as a shining example of what Abelone could accomplish. He'd been nearly killed that day, taken prisoner and offered in exchange for her life. The fact she'd so willingly given herself over to the raiders in exchange for him should have proven her love then but Charon had just written it off as another moment of righteousness for the Wasteland's messiah.
Now, the long scar running across her throat just serves as a reminder that she was, and is, willing to die for him. Sometimes, he can still see the rust red color staining his skin. Blood coating his fingers as he holds his hand over her throat to stop the bleeding, praying to a god he's never believed in that stimpaks would be enough to save her.
"You have endured much," Charon speaks, in a quiet and almost tender voice. She leans her head onto his chest, and they remain silent for a moment. Charon is still studying her, occasionally taking a moment to smoke.
"I'd do it all again if it meant ending up right where I'm at," she finally says, leaning over to snub her cigarette out on the ashtray they keep in the bathroom. Charon follows her lead after taking one final drag off his cigarette.
"Why is that?" Charon asks softly, looking at her. He brushes her hair from her shoulders, moving his fingers through her red curls. The rain has picked up outside, pounding against the roof and he feels her trembling slightly at the noise. "You speak of sacrifice. Was it truly worth it?"
"Definitely worth it," she laughs, looking up at him, her smile soft and she asks, "How’re you feeling, Charon?"
Charon studies her once more, his expression changing slightly to concern. "I am well," he says quietly, trying to decipher the look on her face. In the distance, a flash of lightning illuminates their small shack and he notices the way she's looking at him. Is it fear? Or something else entirely, "Is there something troubling you?"
"I'll never get used to thunderstorms," she admits, chewing her lip. "Doesn't matter how long I'm out of the vault. They're... terrifying. It's such a stupid thing to be scared of."
"The sound of thunder can remind you of danger," his thumb caresses the side of her face, the gesture tender and intimate. They sit in silence for a moment, and Charon feels her relax some. She twists, then, turning over so they’re chest to chest.
"Do you remember the first time there was a storm? I felt like such an idiot crawling into your bed," she laughs, looking away from him in embarrassment. "I thought you were going to yell at me or kick me out."
"I remember. That night was... unexpected." Charon gazes down at her, and then looks up at the ceiling, thinking.
It was more than unexpected. It was aggravating and confusing. The feel of her body and the trust she'd put in him. Back then, he had assumed she was just like every other employer he'd had even if she treated him better. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to lash out at him or make him do something abhorrent. He'd never expected her to trust him so fully.
She gently touches his cheek and turns his head back toward her, so she's looking up into his eyes. "Why were you not afraid of me?" He whispers. "I am a ghoul, and I had... done terrible things for my last employer."
"Because you'd always protected me," she answers, smiling at him thoughtfully. "I know that the contract said you had to protect me but... I really tried to tell myself it was more than that. That we were friends. Or at least that we trusted each other."
"More than that... more than the contract," he repeats in whispers. Charon's face softens with the hint of a smile as he speaks, his gaze focused on Abelone. "Lone, I..." He pauses, and then looks down at his hands, slowly reaching out and taking hers. "There is a lot I wish to say."
"You don't have to say anything," she pulls his hands towards her lips and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "Not unless you want to."
"You... your kindness, your trust..." Charon's breathing is shallow, and he struggles to find his words as he pauses. He takes a moment to collect himself, and then looks back at her. "I am yours."
"And I'm yours," she leans forward to place a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. She moves again, sloshing some of the water out of the tub so she can kiss him properly.
Charon's whole body shudders, his breathing ragged and uneven. He pulls Abelone closer to him, and wraps his arms around her body, and his lips meet hers harder. The kiss is passionate, full of all the words left unspoken. Charon's hands move along her back, caressing her, as they remain locked in a kiss for several long moments. When she finally pulls back for air, she smiles at him.
"Will you tell me?" She asks, pressing her forehead to his. "Please tell me that this is your choice and not the contract." Abelone's face is flushed but there's concern in her eyes. Even after years, she's still terrified she's forcing him to do something he doesn't want to.
"This is not the contract. This is my choice," his voice is soft as he speaks, his gaze locked on her face. He hopes she can see the emotion in his eyes, and she can tell that this is real. After a moment, he speaks again. "You... I have... for a long time..." he pauses, taking a deep breath. "I love you."
She's said it to him before. Small gasps and broken ‘I love yous’ when they make love. Neither have said it properly despite both knowing it doesn't need to be said. They say it through their actions everyday, by the way they look at each. It's said through tender touches and moments of frenzied intimacy. In the late hours of the night and early minutes of the dawn. Charon has loved her for longer than he's had the presence of mind to acknowledge and it's high time he's said it out loud. Not even the cold water surrounding them is enough to cool his blood.
"You... you love me?" She stares at him with wide eyes. The blush on her cheeks spreads down to neck and her mouth opens and closes a few times as she tries to find words to reply.
Charon nods slowly, smiling at her. His expression is a mixture of pride, emotion, and a bit of embarrassment as he waits for her response. He wants to hear her say it back. Charon is holding his breath, unable to contain his anticipation or worry. He can't believe he finally said the words, and he's eager for her reply. Doubt settles in his stomach, worried her declarations have only been born from moments of passion.
"I was starting to think you'd never say it," she laughs, shaking her head. Her fingers trace over his jawline as she considers her next words. "I love you too, you know. For a lot longer than is appropriate," Abelone says in a whisper as if she's ashamed.
"How long?" His tone is even, quiet and serious. He wants to hear the truth. Slowly, he leans towards her, his fingers gently holding her face and gazes into her eyes, "When did you start loving me?"
"Since before the purifier," she admits, her cheeks blossoming into a deeper red. "I think... I think I liked you before we found my father but after... after that, I knew I did."
"Why didn't you say something?" Charon asks. His expression is still tender, but he also looks a bit lost and confused. "You could've told me at any point."
He'd never allowed himself to believe that she had been feeling this way for so long, and it never occurred to him that she had never acted on her feelings before that first time. Charon isn't upset, but he is puzzled. Years before that first night, before that first kiss, she'd loved him. Even when he was cold and dismissive of her, she had loved him.
"I hadn't even had your contract a year," she shrugs, pulling herself up out of the bathtub. She grabs a towel and begins to dry herself. "Besides, you didn't even seem to really like me back then. Sure, you may have trusted me but I was nothing more than your employer."
He slowly stands up, wrapping a towel around himself as he looks down at the floor. He gazes to the side, his thoughts somewhere else. Her words were true. It had taken years for him to even consider her a friend. Before the purifier, he wasn't even sure he cared if she died outside of his duty to the contract. His gaze slowly drifts toward Abelone, and he looks her up and down.
"As your employee, I was not allowed to act on my emotions," Charon's face is still stoic and unemotional, but a hint of sadness and regret is present in his tone. "Any of them."
"That's always been the biggest issue between us. That stupid contract," she laughs bitterly, grabbing her pack of smokes from the table and quickly lighting one. She inhales deeply, savoring the nicotine and looking him dead in the eyes, "But even if you weren't my employee, did you even like me back then? Or was I just someone you tolerated?"
"Do you want the truth? Or the answers you wish to hear?" He asks softly, his voice a bit stern now. Charon stares at her, and then looks away briefly. A moment of silence, and then he slowly looks back at her. He pauses, thinking about how to phrase his words and lets out a heavy breath, "When we first met, I disliked you. That is the truth."
"Trust me, I know," she scoffs, taking another drag of her cigarette as she walks out of the bathroom. Charon watches her head down stairs, following after her. She opens the fridge to pull out a beer and finally flops down on the couch still in nothing but her towel. "How was I supposed to tell you that I liked you when you hated me and I basically owned you?" She asks bitterly, clearly upset. Charon follows her and leans against the kitchen counter, watching her in silence.
"I..." Charon pauses. "I still had a lot of hate in me at that time. It took time for me to truly let go," his voice is quiet and he is still as looks away, not wanting to face Abelone. "I can blame the contract all I want, but at the end of the day... that is my fault."
"Fuck. That wasn't... I wasn't trying to blame you for anything," she mumbles, rubbing her forehead. She takes another long pull of her cigarette as she stares up at the ceiling. Charon listens silently for a moment, and then sighs. He steps over to her, and sits down on the couch beside her. Quietly, he leans over and gently takes the cigarette out of her mouth. He puts out the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table.
"What do you want?" He asks softly, his voice gentle and low, "What do you require from me right now?"
"I want what I've always wanted," she frowns at him, "I want you to be happy."
He looks away from her and turns his face toward the window to watch the rain. He is happy, has been for a long time. Abelone has always been kind, kinder than he's deserved. The woman had been patient with him, trusting and generous. She did not shy away from him, not even in the beginning. She'd watched him gun down his former employer and then raised a toast to it the night after. But he had done so many things throughout his life that proved he didn't deserve happiness, didn't deserve her.
"I do not deserve happiness," he speaks his thoughts aloud. Then he looks over at her, and his voice becomes tender when he speaks again. "I only wanted to serve you."
"I don't want you to serve me, you asshole," she snaps, pushing herself up so she can level her gaze with his. "I'd tear up that contract right now if I didn't think you'd kill me over it!"
Charon's eyes widen, visibly shocked by her sudden outburst. He gazes at her, silent for a moment. There's a near forgotten feeling settling in his stomach; the pull of the contract. The thought of her destroying it makes his blood pump faster and anger fills his senses. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be under it's control. The overwhelming need to fulfill his duty, to protect not only his employer but the contract itself. Once upon, someone else had threatened to destroy it and they had died at his hands. Would this end the same way? Would he be able to control himself if Lone did something as foolish as destroying it?
"I could never hurt you." It's a simple statement, but spoken with such certainty that it is unmistakable. Bile rises in his throat as he thinks longer on the prospects of being free. "If you wish to tear up the contract, the decision is yours."
"But you said... you said if I tried, you'd stop me... by any means necessary," she swallows thickly, averting her eyes. Charon's face remains expressionless, although some hints of hurt and regret flicker in his eyes. She's scared and not just because of the storm outside. She's scared of him. An idea that pushes it's way past the rage he's feeling. Her fear suddenly becomes his fear and he steels himself. He slowly reaches out and takes Abelone's chin to make her look at him, but his fingers are gentle.
"Yes, you are correct. If you tried to tear up our contract, I would stop you. By any means necessary," he pauses, swallowing down thoughts that aren't his own. The thoughts that he must protect the contract, that he must lash out against any threat to it. "But if you commanded me not to interfere, then I would not stop you."
"If I tore up the contract…" Abelone laughs, forcing herself to look at him. There's still fear in her eyes but also hope, and the look she gives him strengthens his resolve to fight even harder, "If I wasn't your employer anymore... would you stay?"
"I would stay," he says softly, and there is no hint of hesitation in his voice. There's no reason to hesitate. If given the choice, the freedom to choose, he would remain at her side until the world ended in another apocalypse. "It's not the contract that keeps me beside you."
Abelone stands and walks slowly over to the old safe by her workbench. She puts in the combination and carefully pulls out the contract she keeps there for safeguarding. She turns the piece of paper over in her hands before looking back at Charon.
"I'm going to destroy this and I'm ordering you not to interfere," her voice is firm.
"I will not interfere," He gazes at her, and then looks away. Charon's face is unreadable, he forces himself to look unbothered by the command. Still, there's a voice in the back of his head demanding that he stop her. His fingers dig into the flesh of his thighs, and if he'd had fingernails they would be breaking the skin. The contract demands protection, demands the blood of anyone who threatens it. He swallows down the rage he feels; rage at the idea that he might harm her over a piece of paper. But still, he speaks up, "However, I ask one more favor."
"Anything," she breathes, clutching the contract. "What do you need?"
"Promise me something," he pauses, his face still expressionless, but he is staring at her with those dead blue eyes. "Promise me that, even when you no longer hold my contract, you will not abandon me. You will not send me away."
"You idiot," she barks out a sad laugh, taking a step towards him, and begins tearing the paper. She tears again and again, ripping the contract as many times as she can. Charon watches in near disbelief, each tear tugging him more and more to stand and lash out. Rage boils under his skin and it takes everything in him to focus on her words. "I love you. I want you with me for the rest of my life. I would never ask you to leave."
Charon stares at the torn and ripped up pieces of paper, and then he looks up at Abelone. For a full minute, he says nothing. His face remains expressionless, except for a hint of sadness that seems to flicker in his blue eyes. Charon opens his mouth, as if to say something, and then he closes it just as quickly. Once again, he looks away. He lets out a deep sigh, and then sits back on the couch.
The contract lies in pieces just below his feet. So close that he could grind it into the ground with the heel of his foot. It stares up at him mockingly, as if screaming to stand and fight. To strike down the person who would dare destroy it. But then he sees her, the destroyer, the liberator, Abelone. He sees her and his blood simmers to a low heat.
She's ordered him to not interfere, an order he's followed. But she hadn't ordered him to not retaliate. The contract on the ground screeches, longing for revenge. His fingers twitch, his gaze locking with her soft green eyes and she smiles. Fucking smiles. Like she's the happiest woman in the world. Like she's safe with the monster that he is. The contract demands revenge… But he's a free man now, allowed to make his own decisions.
"What now?" He asks softly.
"Now we get to live," she says just as quietly, staring at the mess for a moment as if trying to figure out where to go from there. She sits back down beside him on the couch and places a hand on his knee. "We get to live together as partners," she smiles softly at him. "As equals."
Charon leans over, placing his own trembling hand on top of hers. He's unsure of what to say, but he stares at her with that same hint of sadness in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he leans in and gently kisses her. The anger he feels slowly turns to a diluted hope that he can actually figure out how to live like this.
"As equal partners," he says softly. Charon then turns to look at the pieces of the torn up contract again. He picks one piece off the floor, and holds it up. "This was our contract. The thing that brought us together."
For such a significant and all consuming piece of his life, the scraps of paper look almost insignificant in his large hand. Faintly, there's still some of the Cyrillic script to be made out, words that only he's been able to read for centuries. No one speaks the language in the Capitol, hasn't for as long as he remembers. It didn't matter anyway. After two centuries, he knew the contract by heart and had dutifully recited the words to every employer.
подчиняться
Obey.
Such a simple word. He turns the scrap of paper over in his hands, only half of the word visible. But he knows what it is because it's a word that has been branded into his very soul. A word that's controlled him for so long. Something that Abelone has never expected from him.
" Was being the keyword there," Abelone eyes the piece of paper closely, leaning her chest on his shoulder. Her skin is like fire pressed yet the feeling of her seems to cool his overheated body. Charon doesn't respond, but his free hand wraps around her and he pulls her closer to him. He glances down and watches her, his face still expressionless.
"What will you name our new contract?" He asks after a moment. She raises an eyebrow at him, but the look on her face tells the ghoul she understands what he’s asking. They no longer have an employer/employee contact. While Lone may have never seen it that way, it doesn't change the fact that it's been exactly that since the beginning. Even without it hanging over their head, they’re still bound to each other. Charon wants Abelone to make the decision.
"The same thing I've called it for years," she kisses his jaw tenderly. "Friendship, companionship, love ."
Charon smiles slightly, but quickly turns his face away again. He continues to hold Abelone close to him. His hand is still wrapped around her, and his fingers are stroking through her hair. He gazes at the torn up pieces of papers on the floor, lost in thought. After a few long moments of silence, he speaks up gently.
"Are you happy?" He asks. The question comes out softly, a moment of doubt creeping in the edges of his mind.
"Yes," she answers, running a finger over his chest. "I've always been happy with you. Even when you were cold to me. You've always been so easy to be around. You've always made me feel safe."
"I have always been confused as to why you were never harsh towards me," He pauses and thinks things through, "Why did you never order me to do things?"
"I've told you that I bought the contract hoping I could release you from it. I never wanted an employee or a bodyguard," she says softly, pulling his face closer. "I've only ever wanted you to be free."
Abelone's words seem to hit Charon like a thunderbolt. He’s known that, of course, but the reminder always hits harder than it should. No matter how many times she says it. He still remembers the first time, outside of Underworld and under the sun. It had aggravated him endlessly. Her nativity, the way she spoke without any thought to the words. He couldn't believe she would pay so much for his contract and just try to relinquish it with nothing asked in return.
A young girl and an attack dog walk into a bar. It sounds like the setup to a bad joke. And for a while, the ghoul believed it to be one. Every time she refused to give him an order, he had thought she was belittling him or setting him up for something malicious down the road. But the punchline never came. She was always kind, always compassionate, always reassuring him that he was free.
"Lone," his voice is gentle as he leans forward and lightly kisses her lips. Then, he pulls her into a warm embrace. Charon keeps silent as Abelone wiggles out of his grasp and crawls onto his lap. She unwraps the towel from her and tosses next to the couch so she can sit bare against him.
"Well, you're free now, Charon," she whispers suggestively, "What will you do with this new found freedom?"
"How about I do nothing?" He says softly, a hint of amusement to his tone. "All I've ever done was work," his expression is quiet and distant, but his eyes are soft as they gaze at Abelone.
"Nothing at all?" She moves her hips against his, hoping to gain some reaction from the normally stoic man. "Are you going to make me do all the work?"
Abelone's question seems to catch Charon off guard, but his eyes fill with sudden sparks of interest. He slowly pulls her closer to him, and he leans in so that their faces are inches apart. And then he holds her gaze.
"I will not interfere," Charon's voice is deep and steady, but there is a hint of playfulness in the way he speaks. Her fingers trail down his stomach as she pushes herself onto the edges of thighs, her fingers brushing teasingly over the obvious bulge between his legs. Through half-lidded eyes, he watches as her tongue flicks hungrily over her bottom lip, her gaze drifting down his body.
"Far be it from me to deny you your first desire as a free man," her eyes flicker back to his face and she smirks, an eager and knowing smile. She pulls the towel he has wrapped around his waist from underneath her, wrapping her hand around him. Charon sees a shudder pass through her shoulders and she licks her lips again, letting her other hand trail down his abdomen as she drops to her knees before him.
Charon is a simple man, all things considered. A simple man with simple needs and desires. For so long, it had really been a singular desire that controlled him: the desire to fulfill his contract. To serve and be used by whoever held it. Even though he's only been free a few minutes, he knows his desires have become even more simple. Abelone, fully naked and kneeling before him, could leave him satisfied for several lifetimes.
Her tongue flicks over the head of his cock, like she’s sampling his flavor, and he groans, doing his best to keep his eyes on her despite their desire to roll back. He’s so hard and the delicate touches she gives him act only to turn his arousal into agony. Perhaps sensing this, or as eager for more as he is, Lone takes him into her mouth. His eyes roll back, even if it’s only the tip of his length that she lavishes with the hot, wet caresses of her tongue. Charon moans, one hand falling to her head and balling into her red curls, urging her on. He wants, needs more, needs to feel the scorching heat of her mouth enveloping him.
Agonizingly slowly, she acquiesces, her jaw straining as she takes more of his girth into her mouth. Little muffled mewls leak out around his cock as she struggles to swallow all of him down, her hand around the base of his length squeezing firmly and making him choke. The desire to use his grip on her hair to force himself farther into her mouth until his tip hits her throat and she gags on him is strong, but he grits his teeth, hissing and moaning, and resisting.
Lone's head bobs forward and back, lapping at his head and the underside of his cock as she's panting and has to let her jaw rest. Then taking him between her lips again, a little deeper each time. The man can't breathe, gasping moans stealing the air from his lungs. A year ago, he would already have broken, would have spilled himself down her throat grunting and twitching, but he’s made of stronger stuff now. He knows she wants that, to taste his release, to swallow it down as she had eagerly done so many times before, but he isn't willing to let her have it that easily.
Tightening his fist in her hair, Charon pries her lips from around his shaft. She pulls against him, whining and digging her nails into his hips in an effort to keep him in her mouth, but he’s far stronger and she relents, looking up at him with her lips set in a petulant pout.
"Thought you weren't going to interfere," she murmurs pitifully.
Charon barks out a laugh, letting go of her hair to instead cradle her cheek in his palm. She nuzzles into the gentle touch, eyes shining up at him in admiration, "I may have been too quick to decide that," he tells her, the gravel in his voice at odds with the tenderness in his touch. "Upstairs. Now."
Abelone's expression shifts, her eyes lighting up and lips curling into a teasing smile. "So demanding," she cooes, using her grip on his hips to help lever herself back to her feet. Going up on the balls of her feet, she leans forward and catches his bottom lip between her teeth. He growls as he kisses her back, and she moans, matching him ferociously with tongue and teeth. She’s as hungry as he is, and Charon loves it.
He takes a firm grip on Lone's shoulders, shoving her back hard. She stumbles, nearly falling back on the coffee table but her expression never loses its wild and eager expression. Gently, she takes his hand and guides him back up stairs and towards their shared bedroom.
Once inside, Charon shoves at her again, her calves hitting the bed and she gives a surprised yelp as she tumbles backwards onto it. A delighted peal of giggles follow the yelp as he climbs up after her. He growls again, covering her smaller body with his and locking his lips around one of her pert nipples. Her giggles cut off with a sharp gasp, her back arching up off the bed as his teeth tease over the sensitive flesh of her breast. Beneath him, she pushes her legs apart, her knees coming up on either side of his hips and he can feel the heat of her pressing against him. She wraps her arms around his back, moaning as he sucks at her breast.
"Fuck Char," she whines between gasps, her voice strained with need. "I need you inside me."
She doesn't need to speak for him to know how desperately she wants him. Everything in her body, her hips rolling up to rub the heat between her legs against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, the vice clamp of her knees around his hips, is begging for him to take her.
Charon lifts his head, her nipple slipping from his lips with a wet pop. "Patience," he assures her, shifting his body to pin her hips with his, grinding his hard cock against her core and making her moan. Once again their lips crash together, the ghoul thrusting his tongue into her mouth proving an adequate distraction for him to pull her hands away from his back. His hands encircle her petite wrists and press them into the mattress above her head. The woman wiggles underneath him, biting at his lips in protest at her captivity. He pulls back with a grin, chuckling breathlessly. She’s pressed against his grip, testing it, but she decides quickly that the exercise is pointless.
"Glad to see you're willing to put in a little work," she teases, her hips continuing to move under him, seemingly of their own accord as she seeks the friction of his body.
He rolls his eyes, a soft smirk painting his features, as he gently grinds himself between her legs. Never quite hard enough to satiate her rolling hips. He loves the way she plaintively pushes against his hands, the whining mewls that spill from her spit splattered lips, how she hooks her heels around his ass to try and pull him into her harder despite knowing she isn't strong enough to do so. As much as he loves it, however, his own desperate need to be inside of her, to fill her up until she can hardly breathe around his girth, is growing undeniable.
His hips stall their taunting movement, allowing her to rub herself against him as he shifts his grip on her wrists so they're both captured in one of his large hands. He clenches his teeth against the moan that crawls up his throat, his cock twitching in anticipation. He raises his body away from hers, making Lone squirm and growl in frustration, and reaches between their bodies with his free hand. Her demeanor shifts instantly, cooing encouragingly as his fingers brush her swollen clit, making her gasp sharply. Then the sound shifts into a high pitched moan as he adjusts his hips and presses the tip of his cock into her.
He can tell how wet she is even then, how ready she is to be taken, but Charon holds back. He regrasps her hands above her head, pushing them firmly into the mattress, the movement making his cock shift slightly forward into her, dragging a strangled cry from her throat. She whines, once again digging her heels into his back in an attempt to urge his hips forward.
"Fuck me, Charon," she tells him, her voice breathy and strained. "Please, please just fuck me."
"Is that an order?" His voice is just as strained, just as desperate as hers.
"I'm not the one who gets to give orders anymore," she squirms, tugging her arms a bit as if his grip will relax.
"Then be a good girl and beg," he demands. Lone's eyes open wide, her cheeks burning brighter than before. He studies her for a moment, admiring her blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.
"Please," it comes out breathy and pathetic. "Please fuck me. I'm all yours."
Charon says nothing in response, leaning down to bite and suckle at her neck as he slowly pushes his cock into her. She’s so tight that he chokes, feeling the way her walls stretched around his girth. She moans, the sound almost a scream, her hands pulling uselessly, balling into fists and releasing like she wants to grab hold of him. He knows that she wants him to fuck her raw, driving his length hard and deep over and over with reckless abandon, but he's also acutely aware that he could easily hurt her doing so. Even as much as he desires the feeling of her body quivering around him as she screams, he controls his movements, letting her body slowly envelop him with its clinging, pulsing heat.
"Oh god," she gasps between uncontrollable breaths. "You're so big. Fuck, it feels so good."
He bites her earlobe, huskily encouraging her. "How good?"
Abelone shudders, arms straining again. "Ahh, you feel so good," She stammers, lacking the air or mental capacity to expound further. "More, I need it. Let me touch you, please."
"Not yet," he says, kissing along her jaw. Not even fully sheathed inside of her, he begins to pull back and she whines in protest. Then he slowly begins to rock his hips forward and back, shallow thrusts that make him moan softly as her body clenches around him on each retraction. She pants, her eyelids fluttering wildly as she mewls, her hips arching up into his movements. Even with the teasing way he fucks her, Charon can tell she's getting close, but he isn't ready to let her go just yet. He slows his movements further and his lips find hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with such ferocity that it almost frightens him.
"S-stop teasing," she stutters as he pulls away, her breath catching in her throat as he keeps her on the brink of her orgasm but never quite letting her slip over the edge.
He can't help but chuckle at her. Everyone in the Capitol knows her as the unbreakable mercenary that is. Someone dangerous, yet compassionate. An immovable and unstoppable force. And here she is, allowing him to control her like it was nothing. Some perverse part of him enjoys that fact, enjoys having power over her like this. Agonizingly slowly, Charon finally lets himself sink deep inside her, Abelone sighing and moaning as her body stretches around the full length of him and his hips press to her pelvis.
"I said be a good girl," he tutts, his voice tight as his cock twitches, craving more of the delicious friction of her body. "Beg."
Still panting, Lone tilts her head quizzically, her features pinched into a question. Before she can ask it, however, he releases her hands to take firm hold of her hips, keeping himself firmly inside her as he rolls onto his back. She gives a little shriek as the change in position also changes the angle of his cock inside her, then she sighs, a breathy, heated sound as she braces her hands on his bare chest to sit up. As she does, his breath hitches in his chest at both the view, and her body clenching around him.
"Please let me cum," she purrs with a gentle roll of her hips. With a self satisfied smirk, he nods.
Slowly at first, she rides him, her taut abdominal muscles and powerful thighs moving her body up and down. Her breaths come quicker as her pace increases, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Charon moans deeply, biting his lip to muffle the sound. God, she feels so good, and she looks so good, and she sounds so good. His hips rock up to meet her body each time she comes down on him and one of his hands slips away from her hip so his thumb can find and rub small circles over her clit. She chokes on her moan when he does, so he doesn't stop, the movement of his hips rushing the roll of her own.
"Fuck," she hisses, "I'm so close."
Charon thrust up into her harder, an eager growl coming up his throat. "Cum for me," he commands, his thumb pressing more firmly.
Abelone whimpers, her breasts bouncing up and down in time with the movements of her hips, her cheeks pleasantly pink and her head thrown back. Then all at once, she breaks, her muscles locking up as she lets out a keening moan, her body clenching around his cock as she comes. The ghoul doesn't stop, continues thrusting up into her, her tightness making him grunt and groan. His thumb continues to run over her clit as he pumps, and her body shudders.
"Charon," she whines, her voice shrill and stuttering. After that, she can't form words, nearly screaming from pleasure taking its place as he pushes her through her orgasm, his thrusts only growing more forceful and erratic as he watches her features contort. She gasps and moans, her hands grasping his shoulders with white knuckled intensity, unable to do anything but ride out the storm of his desire.
The feel of her cunt clamping down on him is too much and his release comes upon him suddenly. He takes firm hold of her hips, slamming himself deep inside her over and over until he spills. She screams again, her nails cutting moons into his shoulders as he fills her. Finally, he lets her collapse onto his chest, both of them spent and ragged.
Abelone regains her voice first. "Good god, Charon," her lungs are still heaving. "That was fucking amazing."
"Glad you're capable of listening to my commands," he chuckles. He inhales sharply as she adjusts her position, lifting herself off his softening cock and falling onto the bed beside him, rolling up to his side as he puts an arm around her back. He chuckles softly. "That was…"
"The first of many nights as a free man," she finishes for him, hooking her leg over his thigh and stares up at him. She says softly, "I hope you don't regret this... regret me tearing up the contract."
"I regret many things, Lone," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead, "But this… this I do not regret. And you are not something I regret."