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atrueneutral · 9 months ago

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May - June - July ( Fallout TV Show - Lucy x The Ghoul)

AO3 Link

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Sex.

It was nice - the few times she’d had it.

It started with messing around with her cousin, which in the initial days included shy fumbling, apologies, and a lot of trial and error. Lucy was grateful for those experiences (as awkward as they were), for she always intended to use what she learned to make her wedding night unforgettable for her husband - whoever that turned out to be.

Who her husband ‘turned out to be’ was a no-good raider.

Who was now dead.

Drowned in a barrel of pickle juice.

All that aside - the sex was nice! Lucy didn’t at all feel any awkwardness in jumping his bones, and her husband, Monty, was very eager to get the show on the road (in more ways than one, now that she thought about it). His penis had been an average length with a decent width, but, most importantly, Monty knew how to use it.

So well in fact that, in the heat of riding on top of him, she’d fleetingly wondered how often he experimented with a cousin in Vault 32.

Anyways, with the combination of her hand and the wonderful usage of her good-for-nothing husband’s penis, Lucy orgasmed three times. Each orgasm had been toe-curling and back arching with waves of pleasure that coursed through her body, and each celebrated her spouse by having the name ‘Monty’ leave her lips. At the end of it, for Monty’s release, he’d pulled out of her and ejaculated onto her stomach with closed eyes and her name nowhere to be heard.

Hardly romantic for the consummation of their marriage, but it was fine! Overall, a very satisfying endeavor for husband and wife both that left them sweating in their shared bed, silently contemplating their life together. Lucy thought of little else outside of a wholesome future that involved raising children, scheduled meal plans, making her husband happy, and more sex.

Meanwhile, her husband thought of little else outside of how to kill her and the rest of Vault 33.

It’s fine; her husband got his comeuppance, was rightfully dead and was nothing but a rotting corpse partially smelling of pickle juice.

What wasn’t fine was the wholesome future she’d envisioned; there would be no raising children in the vault because Lucy wasn’t in the Vault any longer (and she had no idea when or if she would return); there was hardly a meal to be found in the wasteland; her happiness was shot at the reveal of who her father was and is, what he’d done and -

Deep breaths.

“You good back there?”

“Yep! Fine and good!” Lucy replied, giving the back of her associate a cheery smile as they traipsed through the desecrated remains of an outlet mall. At the Ghoul’s discretion, one of the stores was to be their campsite for the evening, and it would be swell if whatever-store-chosen was already emptied of people; Lucy wasn’t in the greatest mental state for a firefight, and she wished to not spend another night covered in blood and guts.

Being a glass half-full kinda gal, at least she still had her blood and guts - thanks to the Ghoul’s perception, his exceptional gun-slinging skills and his ability to save her butt as she continued to acclimate to the violent and unpredictable world she was now a part of.

On paper, there was a lot to not like about the Ghoul; he avoided telling her his real name, he was prickly at the best of times and insulting at the worst of times, conversation tended to lead to debates, and he never offered anything in the way of personal information - even after she unloaded her entire life’s story upon him. To be fair, he didn’t ask to hear it, she just… felt like talking, and there was a lot of dead air to fill as they trailed after her “stuck-pig” of a father.

But, though he was a cold, hard wheeler and dealer, Lucy liked the Ghoul. She found him alluring - handsome, even. It didn’t matter that his skin was taut and burned to disfigurement by radiation - or that his nose was missing and his teeth yellowed. The remnants of a handsome man were there, and the remnants of a good man were there, too - somewhere hidden in the depths of his eyes.

She was sure of it.

Which made her feel better about wanting to jump his bones.

Lucy would be the first to admit that she was sexually frustrated, but it wasn’t as if she was to the point of throwing herself at everyone who was anyone (which would be a very stupid thing to do out in the Wasteland). The last time she’d felt this amount of pent up horniness was with Maximus in Vault 4, and that hadn’t gone well. Maximus’s bewilderment at her proposition wasn’t unsurprising (she did kind of unexpectedly throw it out there), but his inexperience and lack of knowledge in the sexual side of the birds and the bees became blatantly apparent by time he recited the myths he’d heard.

Especially that myth about a man’s orgasm.

The Ghoul had experience in a plethora of departments - more importantly, the department she was looking for, or so she presumed. She wouldn’t risk ridicule by asking if he knew that the head of a penis wouldn’t explode upon ejaculation; the man had a family at one point (which included procreation), and he likely partook in a handful of sexual liaisons within his two hundred years of still-standing (assuming his penis remained intact - a question she would never dare ask, no matter how bold she was feeling).

She supposed her interest sparked one of the few times he’d said her name. He’d said it in admonishment, chiding her for trying to hold onto the ethics instilled in her by her Vault - the ethics that kept her from sneaking behind an armed raider and cutting his throat. To make a poor point, the Ghoul ended up shooting him in the back instead, leading to a firefight that led to him confidently taking out four raiders without breaking a sweat (if ghouls even sweat) and led to her needing a stimpak after an encounter with a woman on Psycho.

“Could have been done the easy way, Lucy.”

Said in that slow drawl of his and said whilst staring down at her from within the cast shadow of his wide brim hat, the chill he elicited down her spine wasn’t the bad kind. Lucy played the sound and image of him on repeat as she laid in her bedroll in the following nights; she could imagine him over her, threatening to teach her another lesson of the Wasteland with the same knife he wanted her to use against the unsuspecting man he’d blown to bits. Every night, the fantasy progressed into the Ghoul drawing the knife down her vault suit, slicing through the dirtied undershirt underneath, cutting open her bra to reveal her breasts… her name on his lips…

And every night Lucy’s arousal reminded her of how badly she wanted sex.

“Look alive, Vaultie,” the Ghoul said from over his shoulder. His shotgun was locked and loaded in his hands as he stalked towards the blown out glass door of a two storied department store. “We’ll clear out this here store and hold up for the night.”

“Roger that!” Lucy replied, getting her pistol ready. “Dogmeat and I are right behind you!”

It was a win in her book that no one needed to be shot, or stabbed, or blown apart with grenades; both levels were devoid of any activity aside from their own careful clearing of sections, aisles, and backrooms.

The place was a mess - as was natural when anything and everything (aka the entire world) was a mess. The aesthetic of ruin persisted wherever they went. Looting had long purged any remotely useful item from the shelves, and what was left for the pickings were broken toys, upended furniture pieces, other random household goods, and clothing that was mostly nothing but scraps of fabric that barely held onto their hangers.

It was determined by the Ghoul that they would station themselves on the upper level with a strategic view of the escalators and stairwell entrance. A minute later, and the Ghoul was halfway down the unmoving steps of the escalator, hollering the command that Lucy set up their makeshift camp - he’d be back after a bit of exploring the other stores and, if need be, clear them out of any lingering occupants alongside Dogmeat.

Having been left to her own her own devices, Lucy began by dumping her pack and clearing a decent sized space for her bedroll, and she was thoughtful enough to set up a makeshift bedroll for the Ghoul that was made from remnants of a few comforters she’d seen in aisle 42. She next neatly laid out their rations for the evening: some banana yucca fruit that looked… okay to eat, some mystery jerky she wanted to leave a mystery, and a tin of absolutely-irradiated Cram.

Her stomach became queasy the longer she looked at the offerings, and, hoping to distract herself from thinking about perfectly normal Jell-O salad, Lucy decided on embarking on a more thorough exploration of the department store.

She started with the nearest section; a showcase of the latest and greatest home appliance models of the time. Introducing her to the department was a life sized advertisement depicting a wooden cutout of a housewife who elegantly showed off an equally wooden, ‘clean’ button up shirt - having just removed it from the bent, rusted dryer she stood beside. The woman’s smile might have been white-toothed and embellished with a radiant sparkle - were everything above her shoulders not hacked off to leave splintered ends.

As Lucy leisurely strolled down the aisles, it became a game to pretend she was shopping for a new washer and dryer. She mentally checkmarked what she liked and disliked about each model (price included), and at the end of the section, she eventually had an entire list of theoretical appliances she’d go home and excitedly tell her non-existent (and not-smelling-of-pickles) husband about.

The following sections weren’t as fun to peruse; items not made of enamel and steel weren’t nearly as indestructible, therefore Lucy quickly lost interest in scrutinizing scrap. Thankfully, a new interest unfurled in wanting to learn more about the lives of those who came before - what belongings had they left behind, and what stories could she piece together?

Forcing a spring in her step (it’s better to be optimistic), she headed down to the first level and beelined for the break room she last examined with a pistol at the ready.

It was, luckily, still empty.

She walked over to the radio and switched it on - only to switch it back off when nothing but white noise came through. She opened the cabinets to find nothing of note, and she eyeballed the Nuka-Cola vending machines that, of course, had nothing in them but broken glass.

Nothing.

Lucy sighed - unsure of what it was she was hoping to find.

A broken door in the corner revealed a staff locker room meant for the storage of personal items, and she breezed in with the intent of opening every locker she could.

Nothing…

Of the ten lockers, nine held nothing, but the tenth and final locker seemed promising - only because it was locked.

Feeling excitement, Lucy reached into a leather pouch attached to her belt for her trusty screwdriver and bobby pin. She crouched down beside the locker, carefully inserted the pin into the keyhole, and began to meticulously pick the lock - a skill she was developing a penchant for.

A minute of concentration later, the combination lock clicked open. A proud smile split her face as Lucy put away her toolset, and she held her breath in foolish anticipation for the revelation of what was hidden inside the locker.

Probably nothing, but her finger pulled up on the latch and pulled the door open to reveal-

Her mouth parted in astonishment.

It was precisely the kind of treasure she was hoping to find.

It was perfect!

Of course, it wasn’t entirely perfect; the calendar was a little worse for wear, but the color remained rich despite time and the pin-up suggestively posing on the page for the month of October was beautiful in her black and orange themed bikini, dark lips, and exaggerated expression. The witch hat she wore was tilted on a head of curls, and she sat atop a large grinning pumpkin looking very alluring and very cheeky.

Lucy slid the calendar away from the magnet that held it to the door, and she eagerly flipped through each page from January to December. Every woman was delightfully dressed themed to the month, and she was enchanted by their beauty, spunk, and sexiness.

During her third flip through, and by the month of May (perhaps her favorite of the pin-ups), an idea began to take root in her head - a profoundly crazy idea that could very well lead to her being as headless as the wooden woman on display in ‘Appliances’.

An idea that she, Lucy MacLean, would seduce the Ghoul with a little help from May, June, and July. [Part II]

#fallout #fallout show #fallout tv show #lucy x the ghoul #lucy x cooper howard #vaultghou #vaultghoul #cooper howard x lucy maclean

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atrueneutral · 9 months ago

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May - June - July: Part II (Fallout TV Show - Lucy x The Ghoul) [Part I] [Link to AO3]

By the time the Ghoul returned, Lucy was sitting innocently on the dryer with the can of Cram popped open (and her vault suit zipped to the top stop). Her feet lightly swung in the air while she poked a fork at the processed meat; it was a little grayer than what she was used to eating back in the vault, and the few bites she managed weren’t settling well in her stomach.

She should have gone with the okay-looking yucca fruit.

“Find anything?” she asked, purposefully avoiding the real question of ‘find anyone’?

The Ghoul merely grunted in response as he threw his gear down near the makeshift bedroll he guessed was for him. Scrutinizing her associate, Lucy could not spot any signs of fresh blood on the exterior of his outfit, and he was seemingly in perfect health (aside from the obvious). He also had not arrived with his arms full of anything useful, thus she surmised that nothing eventful had transpired during his quest.

On the flip side, her quest of moseying around the store bore fruit - namely the pre-war keepsake that was currently in her pack (from which stemmed the crazy idea in her head). Between finding the calendar to now, she’d had a bit of time to really think about the pros and the cons of seducing her dangerous associate, but the pros of having sex with the Ghoul (if she was successful) outweighed the cons of being put through the endless torment of humiliation.

(When it came to the dramatic worry of looking like the cutout, Lucy liked to think the Ghoul liked her company well enough to not actually take her head off…)

Excitement thrummed beneath her breast and raced in her veins, but so too did nerves - especially with him here and-

“You ain’t lookin’ so hot, Vaultie,” the Ghoul said, eyeballing her from under his hat. His gaze then fell to the can of Cram she continued to absently jab and not eat. She heard him snort and watched as he collapsed into a nearby aluminum folding chair that she’d set up to make their camp more homey. Surprisingly, the seat itself did not collapse - even with its slight lean. Dogmeat was quick to trot over to dutifully sit beside his master, and the Ghoul’s gloved hand came to pat the canine’s head.

“Oh… yeah,” Lucy replied, sheepish. “I can’t say my stomach’s gotten used to the radiation that saturates every bite of food out here. I’m hoping we come across a settlement soon that has some better crops we can barter for…” She stabbed her fork into what was left of the meat (practically all of it) and held it up in offering with a lopsided smile. “Want the rest of it?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Understandable - it’s not very good, which I’m sure you already know…”

“Mm,” said the ghoul, kicking his feet out and leaning back as far as he comfortably could. He tucked his chin and adjusted his hat to cover his eyes before folding his hands across his chest. “Take first watch while I get some shut eye, will ya?”

“Not a problem,” she answered.

Metal gently clinked metal when she set the food can upon the dryer, and Lucy chewed the inside of her lip in debate; it was a problem - she needed to get the ball rolling. Her opportunity was going to slip through her fingers!

Moments passed, and she pushed herself from the appliance. “Actually, uh, there’s something I wanted to show you. But you have to promise to give me a minute or two to get everything set up, alright?”

The Ghoul grunted, not bothering to lift his head.

“And no peeking!” Lucy added, making a point to point at him accusingly as she gingerly stepped over to her pack. She crouched down just when a sarcastic response of “okey dokey” reached her ears. She rolled her eyes and slipped a hand inside her bag to grab and pull out the calendar. Swallowing her nerves to bolster herself, Lucy headed back over to the dryer. She pushed aside the can of Cram, making room for the calendar, and, with her back to the Ghoul (who did well in not-peeking) Lucy carefully (and as silently as she could) removed her Pip-Boy and leather armor.

Her stripped gear formed a pile at the base of the headless wooden woman.

“Almost ready!” she threw over her shoulder as she slowly unzipped the front of her vault suit down to her navel. She next fussed with her hair; fingers did their best in untangling the mass that hadn’t seen a bottle of shampoo in weeks, and when she determined the results to be satisfactory enough, Lucy tucked a portion of her dark tresses behind an ear. The same fingers came to pinch the apples of her cheeks, and her teeth nibbled at her lower lip.

Truly ‘almost ready’, the calendar joined the Cram towards the back of the dryer so Lucy herself could take up her previous seat. Envisioning the month of May, she positioned her body into a pose that matched the woman in her mind. Innocence was what she hoped to embody as she demurely crossed her legs, arched her back, and softly rested a hand against her cheek.

Her expression turned coy.

“You can look now,” she said, using a voice that earned some manner of reaction out of her cousin and Monty both.

The Ghoul did not rush to peek; with a sigh, he sluggishly brought a hand towards his face to tilt the brim of his hat upwards with a finger.

His head canted and eyes narrowed in assessment of the situation. Shadowed irises followed every inch of her body - notably settling on the exposed portion granted to him by the unzipped suit. Where she normally wore a what-used-to-be-white undershirt, glimpses of her bra and naked skin had taken its place.

And, somehow, Lucy saw it in his eyes - a flash of interest.

It was enough to send a welcomed heat to her lower abdomen.

“And what is it that you wanted to show me?” he drawled as he leaned forward, shooting another lance of arousal through her. “I’m not seein’ anything new.”

By not reacting, Lucy did not take the bait. Instead, she would up the ante in setting out her own fishing line.

“If you want to see something new, you’re going to have to go back to not-peeking,” she said sweetly. “Okey dokey?”

The Ghoul smirked, and returned to slouching in his chair. He shifted his hat to again cover his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me somethin’ new.”

He was daring her - spurring her with his words.

Lucy’s smile, the pearly-white kind that could have an embellished sparkle were she a wooden cutout, lost its innocence as she undid the laces of her footwear and yanked each boot off, dumping them atop her already shed armor. Needing to remove her vault suit, Lucy hopped off of the dryer, peeled her arms from the sleeves and hastily hooked her thumbs into the fabric to push the slightly-elastic outfit past her hips. She pulled her feet from the legs to leave a puddle of blue on the floor.

Habit compelled her to neatly fold the suit into a rectangle and place it as the crowned star to the pile.

She wasn’t completely naked - not yet anyway. Her dirtied and blood-stained bra remained, as well as her high waisted panties that longed for a (working) washing machine.

Feeling suddenly shy, Lucy sought to empower herself by taking another look at the month of June. She quickly flipped to the correct page, and her shoulders sagged less the more she studied the figure that coquettishly stood with a glass of lemonade held in the air.

The sound of a soft, cadenced tapping from behind caused Lucy to turn.

It was the Ghoul, signifying his impatience by drumming two gloved fingers on top of the chair’s arm.

Another deliberate action meant to poke her.

Refocusing on the task at hand and needing a prop, Lucy grabbed the can of Cram before turning around. Not wanting her front to face him entirely, Lucy angled herself and stood tall with confidence. The Cram was raised into the air to be displayed on the flat plane of her hand as she simultaneously bent a leg and placed her other hand at her waist. She puckered her lips and cheekily stared his way whilst adding the finishing touch of an eye closed in a forever-wink.

“Ready!”

The action of lifting his hat was done at a snail’s pace - a contradiction to his previous impatient drumming. Lucy couldn’t tell if the dramatic build-up was more for her benefit or his; her arousal was keen to see his response, and she wondered if the Ghoul was preparing himself for disappointment had she chosen to re-zip her suit and chicken out.

Hat removed, his head tipped forward, and yellowed teeth shone with a smirk at the sight he beheld. Same as before, his eyes traveled up and down her body - absorbing the pose and her scandalous lack of clothes. His hat hovered, having yet to be resituated on his bald head, allowing Lucy to once again see the interest brewing behind his eyes. There was an appetite there, and it wasn’t for the Cram she was holding.

“Little Miss Lucy MacLean… What would your dear ol’ daddy say if he saw you standin’ here in nothin’ but your unmentionables?” The Ghoul said lowly, causing a ripple of pleasure to spread across her body. He leaned forward with his hat in place. “And in front of a no-good ghoul like myself…”

“Surely you’re a ghoul good at something…” Lucy replied, holding her wink and feeling a burst of spunk.

His head tilted with curiosity and he looked dangerous under the brim.

“What is it in particular that you’re hoping I’m good at?”

Her loins, soaked and burning with desire, screamed ‘sex’.

Her spunk, which had arrived when needed, was now wavering when being confronted with his heated gaze.

“Losin’ your gusto, Vaultie?”

Disliking this reversion of using the derogatory nickname, Lucy bit down on her gusto - lest it become lost to her.

“I still have something new to show you,” she said.

The Ghoul chuckled, “If you say so.”

“If you want to see, you have to close your eyes again - and no peeking.”

He closed his eyes after a moment of staring her down. He didn’t bother to reposition himself or his hat, and the faint smirk that remained on his lips goaded her into losing her wink and pose, goaded her into losing the Cram she held, and goaded her into losing her bra and damp-with-slick panties (which were tossed and discarded to the side). Warm air kissed her breasts and hardened nipples and she was more than aware of the throbbing ache that sat between her legs.

Flicking her eyes to him every few seconds to ensure he was abiding to her request, Lucy maneuvered to the side of the dryer and flipped to the next page of the calendar - July. She’s perpetually seated on a towel under a red and white striped beach umbrella, body mostly in profile with her legs bent on either side of her, back arched and buttocks jutting out as she shields her breasts from view with her hands and arms, the ties of her bikini top having been undone. The woman gives the viewer a flirtatious smile.

Perhaps she herself had been the one to undo the ties.

Nodding resolutely at the image, Lucy tip toed over to the Ghoul’s bedroll. At her close and passing proximity, leather creaked and she noticed his gloved fingers tensing. She pondered if he could better smell her arousal with his cavity of a nose as she snagged a torn comforter from his ‘bedroll’ and retraced her steps back to the dryer to drape the comforter across its centuries-old enamel surface.

Her fantasies of how things would go from here did not involve her skin rubbing uncomfortably against rusted metal.

Fixing her mistake of covering the calendar, she imagined Flirtatious July wishing her luck as Lucy climbed on top of the dryer and became the embodiment of the woman who sat on the page hidden at her side.

“You can look,” Lucy said.

And the Ghoul did - his breath hitching and mouth parting.

The smirk was erased from his face, and a dark expression of hunger appeared.

“What is it that you want, sweetheart?” he asked after an agonizing wait. “I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me.”

“I, uh…” she started, her July persona faltering.

It was now or never!

“I want to...” Oh, just say it, Lucy! “Have sex.”

The Ghoul tasted her confession. “Show me the ‘somethin’ new’ I was promised.”

Lucy didn’t hesitate; she delivered his request by splitting her fingers and teasing a glimpse of a nipple only to then slide her hands away and drop her arms from concealing her chest.

“Turn and face me,” he drawled. “I’d like to better appraise what’s being advertised.”

Lucy awkwardly swiveled and revised her position so that she faced him. She crossed her ankles to stay somewhat on theme with the calendar, but she left her breasts exposed as she leaned back on her arms. The radiant, pin-up smile of hers was genuine as she observed him unblinkingly and intensely peer at her from under his hat.

He wanted her, too.

Aluminum scraped against the floor as he suddenly stood, and Lucy’s heart began to pound as spurs jangled with each slow, sauntering step the Ghoul took. Gloved fingers worked at the buckles of the belt that held his holster.

He was heading straight for her.

“Gotta admit I like the idea of my irradiated cock getting a taste of Hank MacLean’s daughter.”

His candidness didn’t bother or offend her; perhaps he didn’t want her as much as he wanted to enact any degree of vengeance against Vault-Tec.

But that suited Hank MacLean’s daughter just fine; either way, she would be getting something out of their copulation.

The Ghoul stopped shy of her - within distance that she could touch him with a bare foot should she extend a leg. His belt and the gun it carried fell to the floor with a thud, drawing Lucy’s attention downwards to the bulge in his pants - the shape of his penis clearly defined and straining fabric.

“Oh, it still works, sweetheart.”

“Show me.” She glanced up at him with her doe eyes. “Cowboy.”

That cocky smirk of his made its return as the Ghoul began to undo the belt of his pants.

“Wait,” Lucy said, halting him. “Give me your hand.”

He deliberated with himself but eventually took another step closer and offered his hand. She gently grabbed his wrist and used the tips of her fingers to carefully tug on the tips of supple leather from thumb to pinky. Loosened enough, Lucy removed the glove and tossed somewhere near her unmentionables. The Ghoul flinched when her thumb caressed along the burnt remains of his skin. He motioned to flee her touch, but Lucy held firm to his wrist. He watched her with dark eyes as she guided their hands to her mouth, and her lips encased his trigger finger - a finger that used to be hers.

She swirled her tongue around the scarred digit and sucked with her eyes on him.

“You’d better hope I don’t go feral,” the Ghoul warned.

Lucy withdrew the glistening finger from her mouth, and she looked at him with mild concern.

“You took your anti-feral serum didn’t you?”

His gloveless fingers jerked forward and gripped her by the jaw.

The urge to jump his bones was almost unbearable.

“That’s not the ferality you should be worried about.”

The Ghoul invaded her space, and in the blink of an eye, his head slanted and his lips were on hers. A current of electricity sparked at the sensation, and their mouths were quick to fall open to greedily deepen the kiss. The tongue that licked hers tasted of chems, or what she assumed to be chems. It was chalky and bitter, but nothing she couldn’t get used to. The bare hand holding her jaw slid into her hair and cradled the back of her neck as Lucy enthusiastically went to work undoing the remaining belt buckle - that which kept her from what she wanted.

She was a woman starved, and she let him know as much with a whimper when soft leather touched the skin of her hip and trailed along her thigh. Ankles became uncrossed the moment the belt came undone. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his pants and eagerly tugged open the waistband. Leather dug into her skin as she reached in and found his erection, and the Ghoul broke their kiss to let out a shaky breath.

She freed him, cock and balls, from the confines of his pants with a simpering smile. “Please don’t ask me to ‘hold my horses’. It’d be a bit too cliche.”

He huffed a laugh and moved back in for another searing kiss. The Ghoul bucked into her hand, and Lucy’s sex longed to be filled (with his penis that most-definitely functioned and was more-than-satisfactory in the length and girth department). She languidly stroked his length with firm pressure that worked like a charm whenever she gave handjobs, and a moan escaped her when the Ghoul bit and ran his tongue along her lower lip. Leather returned to her hip and his bare hand roamed from her neck to her chest to claim a breast. Thumb and forefinger rolled a nipple and tugged and pinched, eliciting further noises from Lucy’s throat.

Aching need spread her legs for her.

“Fuck me, please,” she gasped against his mouth, twisting the lapel of his duster with her free hand.

His touch left her breast to dig into the skin at her hip - matching the grip of his opposing hand. With a rough jerk, he yanked her forward to where she was barely sitting on the edge of the dryer. Lucy’s legs opened fully for him, and she eagerly lined the tip of him to her entrance.

Blown wide pupils stared at her. Hoping to see the good man within their depths, Lucy released his coat and cautiously reached up and removed his hat.

“Fuck me as though there were no tomorrow,” she whispered, searching and finding the barest fragment of whoever it was he used to be.

His mouth crashed into hers without warning, and the Ghoul eased the textured tip of himself into her slick sex. He groaned as he inched himself deeper with every slow and subsequent push. Lucy breathlessly cried out - pleasure was instantaneous and she braced herself with a hand behind her as he thrusted to bury himself fully inside. His hips continued to move - fucking into her with a steady, practiced pace. Their kiss verged on feral and the hat fell from her fingers so that she could cling to the collar of his duster.

His mouth began to move along her jaw, and her moans filled the department alongside the rhythmic, hollow bang that resounded from the dryer she was being fucked on. Her ankles linked, but this time with her legs encircling his torso.

He was better than her cousin and better than Monty.

“What does Hank MacLean’s daughter sound like when she comes undone?” he grunted into her ear in-between satisfying her aching cunt with each drive of his hips. He then chuckled darkly. “Well, what have we here? July, huh? I have to say… you’re much prettier than Miss July - Lucy.”

The effect of hearing her name saw her eyes momentarily flutter closed. Needing to come undone, Lucy gracefully laid down upon the dryer top, her dark hair fanning out. She cursorily worried about the condition of the calendar that was beneath her back, but the worries dissolved the second her fingers slipped between her folds. A single touch across her sensitive bud of nerves caused her to keen and arch her back.

“Tell me your name-” Lucy bit her lip, feeling delirious by the continual buildup of pleasure. “You’re more than the Ghoul, and I’d like to give credit where credit is due… oh lord!”

“I definitely ain’t the Lord,” the Ghoul replied, his hands moving to squeeze her thighs as he picked up his pace.

“Please!” She pleaded, the swirling pads of her fingers doing their due diligence in bringing her so close to the edge. Her vision was becoming spotty - her body growing taut, toes curling…

It was on the cusp of oblivion that he supplied her with something else she wanted.

“Cooper.”

“Cooper… I’m… I’m going to come!”

She came, and it was an orgasm worthy of the end of the world - the kind that she’d never experienced by herself, or with her cousin or with Monty. It was the kind of orgasm that had stars bursting behind her eyes and her muscles twitching and spasming on their own accord. Nothing but ecstasy coursed through her veins, and it lasted for a good-while of bliss-filled seconds.

“What a sight you are,” Cooper drawled, his gaze heady. Caring enough to not overstimulate her, he slowed his horses and gave her a moment's reprieve to recover.

Lucy brought a hand to her head. Dizziness had yet to wane, and her muscles tingled with numbness.

“I wish my dad could see us like this…” she muttered with a wry half-laugh.

Cooper nearly pulled out of her - only to bring himself flush against her with a thrust of his hips.

“Then let’s hope he finds himself in another cage,” came the reply as he returned to the steady pace from earlier. “And I’ll let him know how much I enjoy the feel of his daughter’s soaking wet cunt.”

She smiled, despite his lewdness.

“I enjoy the feel of your cock inside me, Cooper.”

He groaned.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart…”

“You feel so good… Your cock is the best I’ve felt - the best I’ve had...”

He leaned over her, and his ungloved hand gripped the junction between her neck and shoulder.

“I can’t wait to watch you come all over me,” she added huskily, remembering the road she was used to one-man-in-particular traveling on their honeymoon.

“Why would I do that when there’s a nice, warm hole waitin’ to be filled?”

Lucy shivered at the arousing thought; to think that Cooper would ejaculate inside her. The risk of pregnancy was likely zero - or so she assumed was the case when copulating with a ghoul whose semen was likely sterile.

She mentally crossed her fingers.

“Fill me, Cooper…”

His eyes traced along her naked form that was coated in a thin layer of sweat, and she considered the possibility that he was maybe comparing her to the wife he had once upon a time.

As if confirming her suspicions, his eyes seemingly glazed over.

He was losing himself to memory…

In one fluid motion, Lucy sat up, grabbed the collar of his duster and pulled Cooper in for a tender kiss that a loving wife would give a loving husband.

In returning to the present, he moaned and held her close as they kissed. His release was looming judging by the way his fingers twitched and movements stuttered, and when he came-

“Fuck, Lucy…”

He spilled inside her with her name on his lips when she half expected the name of the wife he had loved. Cooper’s forehead came to rest against hers, his breath stilted as the effects of his orgasm played out.

Lucy gave him a small, close lipped smile when he pulled away a minute later and removed himself from her sex.

“You’re not going to try and kill me now are you?” she asked, making light of her wedding night.

Cooper smirked. He was once again the intimidating gun-slinging ghoul of the Wasteland. “His loss, my gain.”

Butterflies spread their wings and fluttered within the cage of her stomach.

He cleaned himself off with the at-hand comforter before tucking himself back into his pants. Lucy didn’t scramble for modesty; she felt oddly comfortable sitting naked on a dryer in a blown-apart department store in the presence of her associate who just came inside her, and the last thing she wanted was to sugarcoat the fact that she simply used him to satisfy her needs.

Which she did, but…

Remembering the calendar, and hoping she didn’t ruin it, Lucy blindly felt for it and gathered it in her hands. She frowned; the page of July was somewhat damp and warped.

“Where’d you find that ol’ relic anyway?” Cooper asked in the middle of affixing the belt of his holster.

“In the employee locker room,” she answered, beginning to kick her feet (more than aware of the mess between her thighs). “Which pose was your favorite?”

“July.”

He crouched to pick up his hat while she earnestly flipped through and took a look at the future months.

Her head tilted in consideration of pin-ups she studied.

“I think I’d make a good August and September…”

With the hat nestled on his head and his back to her, he threw a glance over his shoulder. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

She grinned at him.

“How does tomorrow sound, Cooper?”

#my writing #lucy x cooper howard #lucy x the ghoul #lucy x the ghoul fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout #fallout show #vaultghoul

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