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It was quiet when they settled for the night in Novac.
The town was quiet. The coyotes were quiet. The whole Mojave was quiet.
The silence seemed stuffy and suffocating in the safety of her room, but they were quiet too. He was always quiet, she was just too tired to get her tongue to work right.
They were seated at the tiny table by the bed, an open first aid kit taking up the whole tabletop beside them. She had a faded flannel shirt still half on but her right arm had been worked free so he could see the jagged wound on the back of her shoulder. He worked diligently with a pair of tweezers, trying to ignore the expanse of her back where the shirt had fallen away. Key word: trying. His eyes were drawn to the pale skin, and the even paler healed scars that criss crossed through the faded red ink of her old tattoos.
“Do you remember any of these?” Boone’s voice was low, and she looked over her shoulder at him. He was still focused, but he tapped one of the messier lines on her shoulder blade before going back to his work.
She was thankful for the distraction of conversation. Med-X can do a lot to numb an area, but she still twinged occasionally and his grip on her arm tightened when she flinched away.
“N-no, I don’t,” she admitted. “You’ve probabl-ly been with me for all-all the ones I do remember.”
“Does it bother you?” was followed shortly by a metallic ‘tink’ of dropped shrapnel.
“N-not real-ly. I mean… no more than forgetting everyth-thing else. I won-nder sometimes, but that's all.”
She gasped sharply at the deep stab of a stimpak into already tender flesh, but the pain was short lived. Boone took a few moments to clean up the blood before standing, wiping his own hands down with the same rag.
“Do you remember yours?” she asked.
“I don’t have a lot,” he mused, “First Recon didn’t see a lot of fighting up close.” He sat down on the couch as she turned to him, holding the front of her shirt closed underneath her injured shoulder, letting the cocktail of chems do their work.
“Do you think it’s better to kn-know?”
“I don’t think it matters. I was just curious.” He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling.
Six stood slowly and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Only his eyes, uncovered for once, followed her, and he didn't move to stop her as she reached out and tapped a finger on the inside of his bicep, on a rough and uneven line of white.
“You know this one?”
“Fiend, I think. Got close. Didn’t have anything for it so I had to stitch it up.” he said without looking. His eyes were busy, locked with Six's intense, icy gaze.
She trailed her fingers higher, pushing his short sleeve out of the way to trace over a gnarled star point in the meat of his shoulder.
“Got that one with First Recon, fighting a gang. They were smart, had their own snipers. He missed. I didn’t.”
“If he l-left this, can you real-ly say he missed?”
“He should’ve been aiming for my head.”
She hummed, stepping closer. He widened his legs to let her in, shivering as her light touch brushed up behind his ear and then down his jaw, stopping at a small scar below his lower lip.
“Basic. They pit soldiers up against one another in combat training. Got clocked by a right hook with a ring."
Her attention shifted to her thumb, resting on his lip, as it moved with his words and the smirk that played across his features.
"They told us to take rings off after that.”
“I would’ve thought shaving,” she teased.
“I’ll try not to be insulted you think my hands aren’t steady enough to shave without hurting myself,” he teased back.
“We all have off days,” she argued and he just rolled his eyes affectionately.
Again her attention shifted, following her figingers as they smoothed up his cheek and around his eye to tap another scar that nearly bisected his eyebrow. “I think I remember this one. L-legion assassin hit you with the butt of his gun. Thought for sure you’d en-nd up with at l-least a con-concussion,” she recalled,
“I won’t say I’ve gotten more scars with you than I did with the NCR… but I wouldn’t lie if anyone asked.”
“You don-n’t think you’d like the l-life of a courier?” she snickered.
She brushed her thumb over his brow one more time before she patted him on the cheek and stepped back.
“There are more,” he mentioned, and she paused. His face was impassive as ever, green eyes giving absolutely nothing away as she looked at him. But Boone never said anything without reason.
“Am I gon-na have to hunt for them?”
“Well, if I point them out, I might miss the ones I don’t remember.”
“Oh, but of course. How sil-ly of me.” She was starting to pick away at the impassive stone wall that was Craig Boone, and she could see the barest start of a smile at the corner of his lips. “Y’kn-know, to fin-nd more scars, you’re going to have to l-lose this,” she tugged at the hem of his shirt.
She knew she’d taken offered bait, but, honestly, she was just proud that she’d noticed it in the first place. Boone preferred subtlety when he decided to drop hints. She grinned when he leaned forward to pull roughly at the back of the sun-bleached white tee, tugging it off.
It was no secret that she thought Boone was attractive. As far as she was concerned, you’d have to be blind not to. Everything about him spoke of power. He had a broad chest and shoulders, powerful arms, big hands. He wasn’t sculpted from marble, but he was just as strong. He felt safe in a way some impressive carved statue couldn’t be. Imperfect in a way that made her like her own imperfections. Comfortably human. There wasn’t anything fake or dishonest about him, just a hard-earned strength that captivated her.
She felt muscle jump lightly under her touch as she dragged her fingers up his side, starting to trace the lines along his ribs. She paused when she could feel another raised mark.
“Cazador. You should know,” he answered before she asked.
“L-like I’d remember every time we had to patch each other up after fighting th-those stupid bugs,” she chuckled. “But this one,” she moved to another one close to the one she’d felt, cutting up across his pectoral like lightning across the sky. She brushed his dog tags to the side to trace it. “This one I kn-know.”
“I think I can technically say the scar is from you.”
“Oh? N-next time a n-nightstalker tries to take a chunk out of you I’ll l-let you take care of it yourself,” she said, miffed and haughty. “I think I did a pretty damn good job putting th-that mess back together.”
He chuckled, a rumbling, sincere sound that she could feel in his chest under her hand. Then he reached up, took her face in one palm, and pulled her down into a deceptively chaste kiss.
“You did,” he agreed. “One of the reasons I’m glad I have you around.”
“Aw, aren’t you sweet? Am I your favorite medic?”
“I mean… Arcade could definitely show you some –”
He was interrupted by an indignant gasp and her straddling his lap, fingers digging into his sides, trying in vain to tickle him.
“Craig Boone, you take that back!” she demanded, but she didn’t sound too threatening when a giggle broke through right after.
It always made her pause when he laughed - really, truly laughed. It was the only time he ever looked his age. For a moment stolen in time he wasn’t weighed down with more grief than most would see in a lifetime. She knew it would be short-lived, so she wanted to commit it to memory every time it happened.
This is how she wanted things to always be, if the Mojave ever gave them time. If she could take some of the pain away. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could fix anything; she couldn’t take away his nightmares or his regrets or his trauma. But, as far as she cared, she didn’t need to. She didn’t want to make him better. She wanted to make his life better. If she could find ways to make him laugh for the rest of their time together, however long that was, that’d be enough.
She followed the sound, drawing in to press her lips to his – the only acceptable way to cut off that which was so rare. He was still chuckling as he returned the kiss, giving her a tender moment before he reached up to grab her and wrestle her down onto the couch.
She looked deliciously disheveled already. The shirt she’d never put fully back on was hanging from one shoulder, draped over her but leaving most of her torso exposed, her hair was laying in messy waves across the couch and caught underneath her, and her cheeks were already burning pink.
“Thought you said hand to han-nd wasn-n’t your forte,” she grumbled, as she gave up struggling.
He got to his feet with an amused hum, pulling her with him and pushing the shirt from her shoulders so it could finish falling off. She stood on his feet, winding her arms around him.
“Maybe I’ve got things I can show you too, then.”
“I bet I could teach you a thing or two,” she taunted playfully.
He walked backward, stiff-legged to keep her feet on his as he took a few short steps to the bed, but she was the one to push him down onto it. His eyes were nearly black as he watched her sink to the floor in front of him, her hands sliding down his chest as she knelt between his legs.
He let her run her hands across his skin hunting for scars without comment. When she felt another tucked against his side just below his ribs she paused. Boone laughed once through his nose when she looked up at him.
“That is a story by itself,” he said. She just perched her head on his knee and watched him, still circling the raised skin with the tip of her finger. Waiting. He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head back as he thought.
“It was when I was on leave…” he started, low and contemplative.
Six could already feel the beginning of a shiver at the top of her spine.
“I didn’t always go with him, but Manny was partial to the Atomic in Freeside. Said the casinos on The Strip were too rich for his blood.” He tilted his head back down but kept his gaze over her shoulder as he tried to remember the details. “I left early. Figured even an NCR soldier would be left alone for the short trip. And I was. In a way. I got my share of looks from the alleys and the shadows. But no one picked any fights with me, not directly.”
Like she was hypnotized, Six couldn’t take her eyes off him as he spoke, hanging on every word, imagining the scene he created.
“A woman ran up to me, and I could tell she was scared. I mean, she had to be, to come to a soldier for help in Freeside of all places. At first I couldn’t understand her, but I got her to calm down enough to tell me what happened. She had a… client, I guess you could say, that was trying to hurt her - had hurt her already. She was already cut up a bit, clothes were torn up. I couldn’t even do anything to help before said ‘client’ was in my face. I don’t know what her problem was, or if she was on something. I guess she took offense when I got between the two of ‘em. She was goin’ for the other woman first, I had no way of knowing if she was aiming to hurt but I wasn’t going to stand there and let it happen either way. I just wanted answers. Guess she didn’t like the questions. I didn’t see her turn the knife on me, but I sure as hell felt it.” he chuckled.
This time Six did shiver at the dark edge to his voice. It was two-fold. His quiet tone and deep voice washed across her skin and raised goosebumps, but there was also something about this man standing up for someone, protecting someone, like he had to her so many times. However he saw himself, she saw him differently. To her he’d always been a good man. A guardian. Safe.
“Even the light armor I had kept it from going too deep, I knew it wasn't bad. I don’t think she expected me to take the knife out myself. Used it on her before she could come at me again - I didn't want to do it but she made it clear she was planning on ending it however she needed to. Got her right between the ribs. She was too slow to pull away. Don’t think either of them expected it, to be fair. The poor worker that had run up to me looked just as scared as she had when she asked me for help. But I made sure she’d been paid, since I’d taken out her client for the night. Gave her some extra to go to the clinic for the cuts she’d already gotten. Then I took myself back to McCarran, got stitched up and chewed out for getting holes in my uniform.”
When he met her eyes again he was surprised. The black of her pupil had swallowed the blue, leaving just hunger behind. What he'd said had affected her in ways he hadn’t anticipated, apparently.
“I think I’m done telling stories,” she breathed as she stood with a swiftness that just demonstrated her point.
Boone decided to stay out of her way as she made short work of stripping off everything still between them, flinging his clothes and then hers off into the corner of the room.
She kissed him like she was starving, pressed her skin against his like she was trying to melt into him.
What attention he could spare was caught up in following her touch as her hands roamed over his skin in all the places she hadn’t touched yet; his own were mindlessly occupied copying her pattern, filling his palms with her soft flesh. She was in his lap before he knew she was moving.
Had he ever gotten this hard this fast in his entire life? He didn’t know. He’d never had anyone want him so openly, so fervently. His hunger rose to meet hers, and hers was an ambush predator, sudden and overwhelming. What he did know was when she reached down, her fingers wrapped around steel.
Six leaned back into his hands so he held her insignificant weight and she could look down at him. She locked eyes with him, not needing to watch the hand she was using to stroke his cock, fritzing out what remained of his brain power. Her other hand roamed across her torso, giving her breast a rough squeeze on the way down.
He’d been incorrect when he assumed he couldn’t get harder. She proved that wrong when her fingers disappeared between her thighs, eyelids fluttering at her own touch, but her gaze never left his. When she began to move, she moved in tandem. The hand on his cock moving in time with the finger - fingers? He could see just enough to verify, watching as she tucked her ring finger against middle and pointer and she shivered in his hold with the stretch.
“Fuck,” he groaned, arousal pulsing through his body, pushing a gravelly moan out of his chest.
She shuddered, something white hot and desperate flashing in her eyes as her hands stilled. He could feel her heartbeat thrumming in her chest as he wound his hands around her, pulling her closer and trailing a line of sharp kisses up her neck.
“Keep going,” he growled in her ear.
Her breath hitched around a gasp and a tremor, eyes dark like a feral hunter as they met his again when he pulled back to wrap his hand around hers on his dick, tightening her grip and starting up her previous rhythm. Her moan was more like a whine, but she did as she was told. The slick sounds of her fingers moving against her own heated core filled the space around them. He dropped his gaze to watch, head bowed against her shoulder.
“Fuck, yes, keep going.”
She could feel the weight of his voice, as more than his exhale across her skin. It tugged at the ties holding something down in her chest. Something hungry. Every harsh sound from him as their hands moved together was another fray in the rope of an animal on a lead that wanted to run. She was leashed for now, following his guiding grip. If his hand around hers sped up, her digits within herself did too; if he slowed, so did she, until her thighs were trembling where they rested against his.
She could feel his lips and teeth against her collarbone, his panting breath as he set her pace, her pressure, around his cock, until every breath was a moan or a bit-back curse. Pleasure was winding at the base of her spine, curling tighter with every thrust of her own hand, but because of him.
“Shit,” he gasped, rearing his head back and wrenching her hand off of him as he drifted too close to the finish - he didn't want this to end quite yet.
She stalled in her attentions, so set in following him that she stopped as soon as she didn’t have his feedback. That beast fighting to be free was now lost and wild. She squirmed impatiently as he pulled himself back together.
“Don’t stop,” he panted, breathless but commanding. “Get yourself off.”
She whimpered as she pushed her fingers into the sopping heat again. His gaze on her was tangible, like the beads of sweat down her spine. Like the eyes of a hunter raising hairs on the back of her neck. Everything she was feeling was collecting somewhere deep in her belly, threatening to break free.
“Please! Boone, please!” She writhed in his grip as she begged.
“Please what?” he asked, deep enough to feel in her bones.
“Talk to me?” she pleaded, “keep talking, I wan-want to hear your voice, please!”
An insane request of the reticent man on the surface, but he’d gotten as good at reading her as she was at reading him, and he knew what she needed.
“You want me to talk?” Boone asked, but the tone he used told her it wasn’t so much a question, more a demand for an answer.
She nodded frantically in response, her hips twisting atop him as she continued the same desperate, steady rhythm.
“You want me to tell you how you look when you beg? Or tell you what I’m going to do to you once you come for me?” he rumbled.
“I don-n’t care, just talk, god, please!” Six gripped his shoulder with her free hand, nails pricking into his skin.
She was not prepared for the way he laughed.The roughness of it sent that starving feeling into a frenzy, pounding against the inside of her chest. The harsh spike of wanting had her clenching around her hand.
It was only his grip on her that kept her upright as she changed her angle. Even if Boone had spoken then, she wouldn’t have heard him over her own startled cry as she reached that place inside that she’d been seeking.
“Come for me,” Boone urged, and she could hear the smirk in it as he watched her unravel. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream - ‘til you can’t move.” His assurance was tinged with a dark pride, like he was telling her he knew how to pull her apart at the seams. And he did.
Six’s eyes screwed shut, her breath hummingbird quick in her chest.
“But you have to do what I asked first.”
“Shit!” Her hand left him as she reached to draw tight circles around her clit, her pace growing frantic.
“I’m not going to stop unless you beg me to,” he murmured. “But not until you come for me.”
“Please! I'm cl- I'm close, oh god-” Six broke off with a cry, seizing and thrashing like the unleashed animal she felt go free in her chest.
When she eventually came back down she became aware of Boone’s lips against her neck, sucking faint marks into the pale skin.
“Fuck,” she panted. Then, for a moment, all she was cognizant of was the room spinning around her, and a decadent chuckle in her ear. She landed on the bed, her wrists pinned above her, Boone’s hips slotted between her legs like he belonged there.
“Hope you got your breath back,” he said, bringing the hand that she’d used to stretch herself open to his lips and drawing her slick fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling over them, savoring her taste. “I intend to make good on my promise.”
“In me,” she almost interrupted, “I n-need you in me, please.”
“You look good desperate,” he commented, then he dropped her hand so he could hold onto her hips. He held her still beneath him so he could start easing his length into her waiting channel.
She hissed, sensitive after having come so shortly before, but when he moaned it made her crave more. More of that sound. More of the feeling of him pressing inside her, her walls parting so readily it felt like a homecoming.
“God, you always feel so damn good,” he groaned as his hips met hers with one, slow, steady push.
“Fuuuuuck,” she slurred, clawing into his forearms in as much of a deathgrip as she could manage.
“Falling apart already,” he chuckled, “I haven’t even started.”
That was just about the only warning she got. Boone pulled his hips back, sliding out until he was almost entirely free of her. Then he slammed back home.
Even his deep, satisfied moan couldn’t drown out her startled cry. Her hands flew from his arms to his hips, nails scrabbling against him for purchase.
“Don’t hold back on me,” he warned, “I want to see you come, again,” he thrust into her, “and again,” another thrust, “and again.” Each push of his hips was honed and precisely aimed, reaching that perfect place inside her. How did she even have a choice? She was lost in the sensations, the easy slide of his cock within her drenched walls, his possessive grip on her, the fire and tension building in that space right behind where he was plunging into her.
Her second orgasm took her by surprise, sparked by rifle-calloused fingers playing across her clit with well-practiced ease. He didn't let up, though, didn't let her come down. Instead he leaned down and latched onto that sensitive point on her neck where it met her shoulder.
She almost pulled him off balance with her legs locked at the ankles behind his back when her third rocked through her so hard it felt like her whole body was clenched around him.
He panted out a single breath against her skin, cooling the place where his mouth had been. This time he did stop, his hips going still, buried in her fluttering core. “Want more?”
He laughed when her answer was nothing more than a weak, half hearted groan, and maybe a garbled attempt at words.
“Haven't heard you beg yet, so you must think so.” He started moving again, slow, like he was testing the waters, but he picked up speed when her moan was very much one of pleasure. “You know how to make me stop.”
Six nodded, panting, her eyes blinking open to meet his.
“And you know I will if you ask me to.”
She nodded again, a whine building in her chest as the pleasure mounted.
“So, do you want me to stop?”
This time she shook her head no, and Boone gave her a slanted smile.
“Good. I know you have more in you,” he praised, low and promising. “Now come again.”
Six just moaned in response, so he drove his hips into hers with a little more force, shocking a wild gasp out of her, her head falling back onto the sheets below her.
“C'mon,” he breathed, just as affected by her involuntary clench. “You're gonna come again for me.” His voice was rough, gravel, snarling with the same savagery as the animal he'd unleashed in her. Each slam of his hips against hers was steady and careful but he wasn't holding back even a mote of the power he had. She wouldn't sit right for days, left with a heady reminder of just how well he fucked her.
“Boone!” Six screwed her eyes shut in concentration, trying to stave it off, to keep another building spark at bay.
It just made him laugh.
“Don't try to hold it back, I'll just make you come. You know I can.”
She knew his touch was coming, and she knew she was helpless against it. His fingers lingered for just a second along her lower lips, gathering her slick and the evidence of the previous three orgasms he'd coaxed from her. Then he put one fingertip on either side of her clit and rolled in the same placid rhythm as his thrusts.
Six’s back arched clear off the bed as she went rigid in his arms, a shattered groan seeping out from behind her clenched teeth. Boone’s pace stuttered as she came around him again.
“Fuck…” he panted, his other hand grasping her hip, dragging her closer to where he stood at the edge of the bed. Then he pried her legs from around him and bent her nearly in half, her ankles perched on his broad shoulders.
The noise that escaped her on his next thrust into her sopping heat could only be described as a squeak, and Boone just grinned. Not that she could see it with the way her eyes were clamped shut.
When his hips smacked against hers again the waves hadn't had the time to ebb and the one fading clashed with the incoming and she broke again, shattering into droplets like a river across a stone.
Traces of tears glittered along her lashes when she managed to open them again, and she was struggling to catch her breath, struggling to come back down.
“More?” Boone didn’t slow, but gentled, letting her gather her thoughts for a moment.
“Please, Boone…” she whimpered.
“Please what?” he countered, but she couldn’t focus long enough to say any more. “Please stop? Can't come any more?”
“No,” she panted, reaching forward and grabbing hold of his forearms, securing his hold.
“No? Then please what? Keep going?”
Six nodded, breath still quick and shallow, but eager.
“Good, I wasn’t done with you yet.”
Then his hands on her hips changed their grip, taking her wilted weight and shifting her. Just enough. Even as tender as he was being with each thrust, he was a sniper at heart and his aim…
The animal in her chest was getting tired and the liquid heat in her core was slow to build this time, little by little with every plunge of Boone's cock, every press of his hard length against that perfect spot inside her. But the climb was addictive and she wanted to fall as many times as her body could manage.
Six closed her eyes again, letting the sensations wash over her, willing herself higher.
Boone noticed, realizing she wasn't trying to keep it at bay anymore.
“You have more in you...” he murmured. “I want to see you come again,” he said, then let his thumb rest, lightly, barely on her clit. “I want to feel you come again. I want you to come apart for me. God! Love it when you can't think straight when I'm through with you, you'll be thinking of this for days, you'll think of me.”
He'd learned what his voice did to her, and he was using it to his advantage. She couldn't even be mad about it. He was pouring pleasure into an already overflowing trough, the way he touched her only helped the gradual coiling she felt deep in her core. Like a music box before it played; a song she played solely for him, as he was the only one with the key to wind it.
“Fuck, Boone!” she gasped, teetering on the edge of too tight. A step away from snapping.
“I have you,” he promised, “let go.”
It wasn't a free fall this time. This time she glided down through thick clouds and fog that hugged close as she sank through them. She could feel her walls rippling around him, and he was the rhythm to her song as he continued the steady rock of his hips. He didn't stay on tempo though as he picked up speed rapidly. The friction so close on the tail of the subtle thunder of her orgasm felt like lightning. Like her consciousness was tethered by a rubber band, she was pulled back up, body just as taut.
“God, fuck…” Boone's hips faltered, managing a few sloppy, halting thrusts. He was on the edge, his stoic energy cracking to show the beating heart and drum beneath. As rare as his laugh, was his unleashing. The thrill of seeing him this way swept up through Six’s veins, jackknifing the low simmer of her arousal to a sudden peak.
“Come, Boone, please come? Come in me, please! I'm close! I need you to-”
He interrupted her with a bitten-off shout and a groan, snapping his hips to hers and holding her tight against him so she could feel every twitch as he emptied himself in her. The pulse of him was enough, and her satisfied sigh provided a soft harmony to his moan above her as they came together this time.
Boone let her legs slide off his shoulders, chest still heaving with every breath. It took a moment for him to lift his head and look at her again.
“Can’t get enough of you sometimes,” he sighed, dragging his hands down her body as he stepped away, slipping out of her with a huff. “You look good like this too.” His fingers stopped at her thighs, resting there for a moment before trailing them higher again. He kept an eye on her reaction as he set his palm against the juncture of her thigh and her hip, his thumb resting just above her clit, brushing against the small thatch of curls.
“Boone,” she whined, bringing her legs up to brace her feet against his hips.
“You haven't begged yet.” Assured and confident, but the undercurrent was a question.
They stared at each other for a second. Then she moved her legs, putting her feet on the bed, knees bent but splayed.
“That's what I thought,” he chuckled.
All of her previous orgasms, mixed with the mess he'd left, meant the slide of his fingers into her pussy was smooth, if sensitive. The first purposeful crook made her gasp.
Boone leaned down, bracing a hand in the rumpled sheets above her head, bringing him to her level so he could press his lips to hers. It felt like it had already been too long since she'd kissed him. He kissed the same way he looked at her when no one else could see - hungry, passionate, emotive and alive in a way he didn’t show anyone else. It made her heart skip in her chest every time she saw him like this, without reservation because it was for her. She saw a man who would be a stranger to any who knew him.
Hands that held a remarkable knowledge of her body brought her to her knees - figuratively. Physically, she was spread out below him, soaking in the warmth of his body against hers, and there was nowhere she’d rather be. When she was here, like this with him, she was free and unashamedly herself, lax and unaware and safe being so. Tension could melt away, save for the knot of it building in her core as Boone’s fingers pressed against the front of her smooth walls mercilessly. When he moved his thumb to circle her clit - swiping through the mess so his touch was slick - that was her undoing. She shuddered under him with a high, startled moan, breaking away from his lips. He moaned with her, feeling her clamp down on his hand, but he didn’t let up in the slightest, keeping up the unbearable pressure until she came again. This one was smaller than the one it followed, though her body tried to bear down harder and the moan was cut through with a stinging hiss. When the wave faded Six could only pant, struggling to get her breath back under control.
“Boone-”
“You know how to make me stop if you’ve had enough. But I think you can give me one more…”
“I can’t-”
“If you need me to stop…”
Six whined like she’d been hurt but she shook her head and he trusted her to know her own limits, so he pressed on, keeping up the firm rub of his fingertips where she was most sensitive.
“Fuck…” Boone groaned, feeling her channel flutter weakly again. “You’re doing so good.” He let the hand above her trail down her body as he sank to his knees, the fingers of his other hand still buried.
The cry that she let loose was somehow both overwhelmed and ecstatic at the first swipe of his tongue across that precious bundle of nerves. Six brought her hands down, one grasping the wrist of the hand that was still, even now, curling his broad fingers within her, the other scrabbling against the back of his head.
Her legs clamped around the sides of his head as she sobbed out another orgasm.
When Boone looked up her body to her face again he could see tears tracking down her cheeks. He wavered, looking at her expression, but the tension eased after a fleeting moment, falling into a serenity he didn’t get to see often. She knew her limits, and he made it clear what she was getting into.
He was shocked when he felt her contract yet again, biting back a shriek despite the comparatively small tremor; he honestly hadn’t thought she could manage more. He sealed his lips around her clit, but when her hips moved, they angled away from his grasp.
“Please!” Six whispered. “Please, I’m- I can’t. I can’t do any more. Please, I can't.”
Boone’s touch shifted in an instant, lips leaving her tender flesh without so much as a parting kiss, the crook of his fingers gone as he pulled out of her gently. She cringed so he smoothed his clean hand down her flank, squeezing when he got to her hip, feeling the tight muscles beneath her skin. He wiped his other hand on the sheets as he kissed her lower belly, staying on his knees, worshiping her from his position on the floor as she tried to pull the broken threads of herself back into something recognizable. He ran his hands over her body, massaging as he went up, scattering careful presses of his lips and quiet praise. He stood back up so he could lavish her collar and neck and cheeks and forehead, anywhere he could reach with the same attention. The kiss he left on her lips when he reached them was chaste and delicate.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he murmured, and she lifted them, shakily. He picked her up like she weighed nothing and kneeled on the bed so he could lay her down again, but now she was resting on the pillow like she was supposed to be. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his underwear off the floor as he went to the washroom and cleaned himself off before putting them back on, wetting a rag to take back to her. He grabbed water as well, from the stash of it she always kept, as he returned.
She was half asleep, curled up under the blanket, but reached out to him as he came closer.
He handed her the water he’d grabbed. “Drink.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes half lidded and tired, but still playful.
“Please,” he added, and then she did.
While she was busy with that, he cleaned her with as much care as he could manage. Which was a lot, if he’d asked her. She was always astounded by how well he could temper his strength for her.
He crawled into the bed next to her when he was done, setting more water on the table nearby. He'd intended to make her eat something and drink more to recover, but she'd caught his hand in hers and dragged him down. He couldn't refuse her. Not now, if ever.
She curled herself over him, draping a leg over his and wrapping still-weak arms around his chest. It didn’t take long for her to start to drift off.
He kissed the crown of her head, and let a sly smile curl his lips. “You missed a few scars, by the way. I’ll let you find them another time.”