Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I want to try them.”

“Color me surprised, sister. Didn’t take you as the type.”

“I’m not- well, wasn’t. I figure if I’m going to dip my toes in, you’re the best guide.”

“Careful there, sunshine. You’re gonna make me think I’m special. Make me think you trust me or somethin’.”

A pause. 

“John, I trust you with my life.”

Nora had been through it. From having her baby, the bombs dropping less than a year later, getting cryogenically preserved for 200 years, watching her husband be murdered and her baby stolen from right under her nose- and that wasn’t even considering her unique experiences in the Commonwealth. 

She had made cautious connections with a few citizens throughout Boston. Dogmeat was a godsend. Preston was an idealist with a to-do list that never ended. Piper was supportive but could easily be distracted with the promise of a good story. Danse was all business, and though he offered structure in her otherwise disorderly life, sometimes his gaze would make her break out in a cold sweat, reminding her of pre-war memories that she would prefer to keep buried. Nick Valentine had been a surprise- not only because he was the first synth she met, but he seemed intensely invested in her and her son. Like he felt like she deserved a happy ending. Sometimes it truly shook her, that someone was in her corner with no strings attached. 

Then there was John. Mayor Hancock. They had travelled together off and on for some months, intermittently traipsing off together to get up to no good across the Commonwealth and dole out otherwise scarce justice. They had become fast friends, to Hancock’s surprise. It wasn’t that Nora was uptight, or that she had opposing views- they actually seemed to overlap in many of their beliefs. 

It was the chems. 

Well, that’s not exactly right. It was the lack of chems. Nora never seemed to mind his usage, his chem breaks, his indulgences. He could go on a bender in the middle of the Glowing Sea and she would still stand by him, no questions asked. But she never partook. Never seemed interested, never entertained the idea. Hancock often offered when they first were traveling together, not only when he himself used, but when he felt like she needed them. Nora once told him that she knew he was just looking out for her the best way he knew how. The amount of Mentats he went through after she said that, he had reasoned with himself, was for introspective purposes. Definitely not to ensure that he would never forget the soft look in her eyes when she said it, or the fact that he felt like someone really saw him for the first time in a long time.

So each time he’d offer, she’d politely decline and thank him for thinking of her. Eventually he stopped asking. 

She didn’t. 

She often sat with him and asked about them, discussed how to make them, where he usually got them, what the best recipes were. In fact, she had made him chems before, especially when he was itching for them. She just seemed to always be in tune with where his head was at. He had asked, once, when they were curled up back to back on some sleeping bags in a somewhat-intact building they had discovered after a particularly harrowing run in with some raiders. 

“Weren’t chems around during your time?” he asked after taking a hit of Jet. It helped cool him off after such a high adrenaline day. He felt her stiffen, then eventually shrug. 

“Never really had an interest in them,” she said quietly. If Hancock didn’t know any better, he’d say that it sounded rehearsed. Robotic. But he knew a sore spot when he heard one, so he didn’t follow up with anything other than a huh.

This was all to say that Nora never really gave any indication that she would ever even be interested in dabbling in chems. 

Well- until one shitty, shitty day. 

Nora had been gone for a few weeks. Physically, that is- John couldn’t escape her otherwise, seeing her in his dreams, catching smells that reminded him of her, seeing blue and immediately running to see if it was his little Vaultie. Fahrenheit didn’t mention his moping at being left behind to attend to his mayoral duties, but she didn’t have to. The looks she gave him said everything her mouth didn’t. So he was pleasantly surprised when he was standing on the balcony, taking stock of Goodneighbor, when Nora’s smiling face appeared from around the corner of Daisy’s store. She waved enthusiastically, beaming up at him. He returned her grin, looking downright feral at how his mouth split to bare his teeth in delight greeting. Nick Valentine stood at her side, smoking a cigarette and looking between the two. He raised what would have been an eyebrow, narrowed his eyes at the mayor, then hid a smile behind his cigarette as he took another pull, the cherry lighting his face in the setting sun. 

Hancock turned immediately and took long, quick strides through the State House until he hit the door, relaxing his gait to convey a more casual air. 

And there Nora stood in all her Vaultie glory. Hancock knew the moment he saw her that first night that she wasn’t Commonwealth ilk. She was curvier than most other people wandering the wastelands, didn’t have that hardened look about her. Soft, in spirit and in body. Real eye candy, seemingly oblivious to the leers from the Neighborhood Watch. Hair held back as neatly as she manage, Pip-Boy screen on her left wrist glowing with a sickly green display. 

That was then, though, and this was now. As much as Nora could see Hancock, he liked to think he could see her, too. He saw as he approached that, though her face showed excitement at seeing her friend again, her body language screamed discomfort. She had one hand clasped around the ring she wore on a necklace that sat daintily around her neck, the other arm crossed tight over her chest, as if shielding herself. She was tense. 

Hancock didn’t like it. But he hid it well with an easy smile, lighting up his own cigarette as he strolled up to the synth and the Sole Survivor. 

“Well look who it is, my favorite two people in the Commonwealth. What brings you to my neck 'a the woods? Finally tired of travelin' with this circuit board?” he rasped, teasing. Her reaction was flatter than usual. She offered a shy smile and kept running her thumb over the ring around her neck. 

(How poetic, he mused.)

“We’re headed over to the Memory Den. Got a crack in Nora’s case, figured we’d rope you in,” Nick intoned.

“Sounds like this Dr. Amari is our only hope right now,” Nora finished, shifting her weight. Hancock offered what he hoped was a comforting grin- truly more of a grimace on his irradiated face, all things considered- and took another drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and snuffing it out with his boot. 

“Well then, what’re we waitin' for? Let’s get you some answers, sister.”

John should have known better than anyone that dabbling in the past was a bad idea. Some introspection was fine, a good character builder. But the Memory Den was something he steered clear of for personal use. Of course he made his rounds there, dropping in on Kent and Irma occasionally, but his visits were brief. He wasn’t looking to pick at old wounds of the mess he used to be. 

He and Nora had glanced over her past, sure. She mentioned that her baby was kidnapped and she was tirelessly searching for him. She had told him her husband was dead, that he used to be a soldier and she was a lawyer. He had joked that she must have always had that sense of justice, and though she let out a laugh, it was weak. He didn’t press.

So when Dr. Amari connected her and Nick to one of the pods to travel through Kellogg’s memories, Hancock wasn’t expecting anything special. A merc was a merc, and if he was stealing kids and working for the Institute, well, this guy was scum. End of story. It came as a surprise to him when he glanced at the screen broadcasting Kellogg’s memories and saw Nora’s face staring back at him, more distressed than he’d ever seen her. He shifted his weight forward in his chair, enraptured, like watching a tragedy in slow motion. 

He heard Nora’s screams through the cryo pod as Kellogg opened the one across from her- her husband, John figured- and shot the man point blank in the head, the Institute scientist with him absconding with the baby. He heard her relentless banging on the glass, making inhuman sounds of grief. When Kellogg approached her pod to glance at her, John’s breath caught. There was his Nora, tears streaming down her face, a mix of rage and terror that he would have nightmares about for the rest of his long, Ghoulish life. He fought not to look away, to not flinch at the sound, the image. She screamed and screamed and clawed at the glass until they froze her again, leaving her behind that damned vault door. 

Dr. Amari sputtered an apology at Nora, still confined to the pod, for having her relive her husband’s death and her baby’s kidnapping. The rest of the memories showed her kid slightly older before the Courser had given Kellogg his final orders to dispose of Dr. Virgil in the Glowing Sea. 

When both Nora and Nick emerged from their trances, they were both breathing hard. Nick shook himself quickly, settling his whirling processors and turning his attention to Nora. John started getting up, reaching to help her sit up, but was beaten to the punch by Dr. Amari, who was immediately at the woman’s side. 

“Nora? Say something, please. I need to know that you’re alright,” the doctor spoke evenly, though her countenance spoke of concern. 

Nora was shaking like a leaf, eyes shiny, gaze fixed on the wall ahead of her. “I’m-“ her voice was shaky, reedy. Throat tight. Distressed. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth to try again, then closed it. Cleared her throat again, shaking her head. A tear fell down her cheek, and she gave a broad, bright smile to the doctor, who was immediately taken aback. Hancock's chest immediately felt like someone had crushed it. He could smell compartmentalization from a mile away. Knew the tear of pushing through misery, leaving bits of blood and skin behind. Knuckles raw, body bruised. 

“I’m fine. Thank you, Dr. Amari. For everything.” Her eyes were flat, still glassy at the unshed tears. Her fists were clenched into her thighs, and her body was tense, as if anticipating a blow. Hancock and Nick looked at each other, conversing silently. They moved almost in tandem, the synth excusing himself to the other room while Hancock approached her from the other side. Dr. Amari stepped back and gave the Ghoul his space as he kneeled next to her. 

“Hey, sunshine. Ya wanna get outta here?” he murmured quietly to her, reaching for her shoulder. Nora looked at him for just a moment; she must have seen something in his gaze- probably his best attempt of warmth- because she flinched away from his touch, rubbing at her face roughly and sniffling once before shooting to her feet. 

“I gotta- I need a walk,” she warbled through her smile, swaying on her feet.

(It was a grimace, he realized.)

Both he and Dr. Amari reached to help steady her, but she was out of their grasps immediately and through the door. Hancock rushed after her, his coat billowing behind him at his hurried gait. When he caught up to her she was standing in front of Nick, Kellogg’s voice droning from the synth, humming about how he should have killed her when she was on ice. 

“I have regrets too,” her voice trembled. “I regret having not killed you with my bare fucking hands.”

Nick’s yellow eyes blinked twice, coming back to himself. “What was that?”

Her mouth opened and closed as she let out a tight breath. “I’ll meet up with you later,” she managed before continuing her rush out of the building. 

They didn’t see her for a few days. No one did, it seemed. Nick said he’d keep an eye out for her on his way back to Diamond City, patting Hancock on the shoulder on his way out. 

Hancock didn’t know what to do. He paced. He drank. He got high. He drank more. Used more chems. Had nightmares about Nora being the one shot, of the screaming baby being torn from her hands as he watched on helplessly from the opposite cryo pod. About a week passed with no sign of her until Hancock heard a knock at his door in the State House. He looked up and there she was, looking more haggard than ever. Her vault suit was dirty under her layers of armor. The circles under her eyes were dark, her lips cracked. She had what looked like a tender area forming on her face, the skin of her cheek swollen. She walked in with a slight limp, favoring her left leg. 

She offered him a tired smile. “Hi John.”

He tried to be casual about it, but his hands twitched to reach out to her. He stayed where he was on the couch, opting to give her an easy smile. 

(Like a coward, he seethed at himself. Like he always had been.)

“Hey, sister. Thought we lost ya there for a second,” he rasped, putting down the Jet inhaler he had just used. It was a blessing because time slowed down enough to let him get a thorough look at her for any obvious wounds, but a curse because it felt like he had an eternity to see her hurting like this. Physically and mentally. 

As time sped up again, he shook himself and motioned to the seat across from him on the adjacent couch. She tenderly made her way there, settling very carefully with a quiet exhale. They sat in silence together for a few moments, just looking- at each other, at the room, at the chems between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Nora spoke up first, “for running out like that.”

“No need to apologize. Everyone’s got their shit to deal with.” He attempted to convey cool nonchalance. He should know better by now, though- just like he could read her like a goddamn book, Nora could smell his bullshit a mile away. 

(Something he admired about her.)

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t- I shouldn’t have left like that. You and Nick- you two have been nothing but good to me. I shouldn’t have shut you out.” She looked him in the eye as she spoke, quiet and earnest. Leaning towards him, elbows resting on her knees. 

He swallowed and fought to not look away. “Hey, no big deal. Ya needed space, no skin off our noses- well, you get it." She managed an amused smile, and he took the victory with pride. "Just wanted to make sure ya didn’t end up in pieces in some shitty raider camp,” he leaned forward, mirroring her. 

Her smile turned bittersweet. “You’re always looking out for me, huh?” He would have blushed at her observation, but thankfully couldn’t. Not anymore, at least. 

“What’re friends for?” he murmured, searching her gaze. 

Her face softened, she let out a quiet breath, and leaned back on the couch, getting moderately more comfortable. He could see she was still stiff, tense in the way that she was sitting. Which brought them back to the current moment. 

“I want to try them,” Nora motioned to the pile of chems on the table between them. 

“Color me surprised, sister. Didn’t take you as the type.”

“I’m not- well, wasn’t. I figure if I’m going to dip my toes in, you’re the best guide.”

“Careful there. You’re gonna make me think I’m special. Make me think you trust me or somethin’.”

The look they shared was not a look friends give each other. 

“John, I trust you with my life.”

So thus began Nora’s foray into the world of chem usage. They loosely went over what chems did what, which would be the best ones to try first, how to warm up to the more intense ones. How to treat potential addictions, where she’d feel most comfortable. “Here,” she responded immediately. He blinked. 

“Ya sure? Heard that little settlement you Minutemen set up is pretty nice-“ She shook her head. 

“I’m sure. I want to be here. With you.” Well if that didn’t give a Ghoul a big head, Hancock didn’t know what would. 

“Whatever you want, sunshine. You know I got your back.”

They decided, after a long conversation, that they would start with Mentats. “I’m a Mentats Ghoul myself. Makes me feel intellectual,” he hummed, popping open the tin and offering them to her with a wiggle of his would-be eyebrows. 

He got a real, honest to goodness giggle out of her. It was watery, but it was genuine. He was also proud of himself for not flinching when her expression boasted an exceptional look of misery.

She gingerly took one of the offered chem, looking at him shyly. He popped two in his mouth at the same time she swallowed down one, offering her an easy smile after. She returned it tentatively. They were silent for a little, soaking in the company.

(They could sit in silence for hours, John mused, and he would be content. They didn’t need to talk at all for him to appreciate her companionship. Another thing he adored about her.)

“You stayin' here tonight?” he asked quietly, as if afraid to shatter the peaceful silence. She nodded, reaching to start taking off her armor. 

“If that’s alright with you?” She paused, giving him an out. She was always doing that. Giving him his space and being respectful of his boundaries. No wonder he was head over heels.

“A beautiful woman spendin' the night? Don’t need to say another word,” he teased, eyes following each careful movement of her hands, as if he was watching her unwrap a gift. He supposed she was a gift from whatever fucked up powers that be. 

(It’s the Mentats- making him all introspective and shit. That’s all.)

She would usually offer a coy smile and bat her lashes at him after offering a flirtation back, but she just hummed quietly as she took off her last piece of armor. They had flirted often while on the road, John suggesting more than once that he fantasized about her, and Nora giving back as good as she got. He once asked her if she had a thing for Ghouls. She winked at him and told him only the handsome ones, and then proceeded to address him only as handsome for the following week. He would never admit that he melted every time she did.

Once she was left in just that tight little vault suit, she sunk a little further into the couch. 

“Feeling anything yet?” he checked in, searching her face. She scrunched up her nose. 

“Dunno. Feel a little like my mind’s going in a lot of different directions at once,” she tried to explain. He nodded. 

“I feel ya, sister. Anythin' you need from me?” She started shaking her head, paused, then nodded slowly. He shifted his body to show that she had his total attention. 

“Can you- can we close the door, please?”

He immediately stood up and strode over to the door, closing it abruptly. The Neighborhood Watchman that was stationed at the top of the stairs, who was very obviously staring at Nora, looked startled at Hancock’s sudden appearance in his line of sight. The mayor sneered at the Ghoul and abruptly closed the door in his face with a sense of satisfaction. 

(He wouldn't share this delicate intimacy between them, the thought came unbidden. Not for the world.)

When he turned back to face her, her hands were rhythmically clenching and unclenching on her thighs, and her eyes were shiny as they looked up at him beseechingly. 

“Could you- can you come here, please, John?”

(He loved the way she said his name.)

He made his way back to her, sitting beside her on the couch with a respectable amount of room between them. She closed the gap immediately, pressing her thigh against his. They were no strangers to touch. Nora was the opposite of touch averse, showing affection through gentle hands and causal contact. On the road, it was abnormal for her to sleep without some sort of contact with him once they warmed up to each other. 

“I really do want to apologize. You’ve been- you’re very important to me, John. I don’t want you to feel unappreciated. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. You’ve been supportive and kind. You’ve been an amazing friend to me and I don’t think I can thank you enough.” As she spoke, her throat got tight and she struggled to get through her words. Hancock’s brow furrowed. 

“Listen, Nora, you don’t hafta-“

“I do. I haven’t had a friend like you since-“ She choked on her words, her bottom lip trembling. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, alright? You’re okay.” He leaned his shoulder against hers to try and offer some support. Then the tears started. 

Hancock had never seen Nora cry. Well, not really. He saw her tear up, saw one or two escape her lashes before, usually from the pain of a particularly rough hit or a bullet that grazed a little too deep or a little too close to something vital. But never like this. She started shaking in earnest, putting her head in her hands as her breath grew more and more ragged until she was hyperventilating and trembling. He could see the tear streaming from her shiny cheeks, hear her struggling to catch her breath. 

“I can’t- I can’t breathe, I can’t-“ He immediately, without thought, reached out and gently pushed her head between her knees with one hand and wrapped the other arm around her shoulders, fingers grazing up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her. They sat like that for a while, Nora sobbing her heart out and John simply sitting there with her, gently rubbing her arm. 

With every sob, his heart broke a little more.

Hancock had no idea how much time passed. He couldn’t recollect when she stopped crying, when she shifted into his chest, when he wrapped her in a tight embrace, when she dozed off on top of him with tears still stuck in her lashes. 

(Fuck, he thought. She was even beautiful when she cried.)

Eventually his eyes slowly closed, the last thing he saw being her peaceful face. He slept more soundly than he had in a long while. 

Chapter Text

“So, Mentats weren't the play,” Nora hummed, cleaning her rifle. She had been methodically breaking down each aspect, inspecting and oiling with the little supplies she had left. At his lack of response, she looked up at him curiously. It was always a little difficult to pinpoint where Hancock was looking on account of his lack of pupils, but she didn’t have to wonder long, a sly grin creeping on to her face. His rapt attention on her hands rhythmically stroking the barrel of her rifle was only disrupted by her short whistle. His gaze immediately flew up to her face, where she winked at him, cheeky. 

“My eyes are up here, Mr. Mayor,” she practically purred. He returned her grin, leaning back and spreading out on the couch. 

“You oughta be careful, sunshine. Shit like that may give a Ghoul the wrong ideas.”

Nora hummed and went back to cleaning her rifle. “I dunno, John. Looks like the right idea to me.” She motioned at his lap with a flick of her eyes. 

He let out a brief, rough laugh and reached over to light up a cigarette. “Ain’t no shame to be had here, sister.” A peaceful quiet settled over them for a moment, a calm smile manifesting on her face. 

“Thank you again- for last night,” she clarified. “I haven’t had a panic attack in ages. I guess the ‘tats just overwhelmed my brain.” She looked up at him with curiosity. 

He shrugged, “Different shit hits differently. Coulda been that you just had too much goin' through that thick head ‘a yours.” She looked back down at her lap where her gun sat and flipped him off at the same time. They both grinned. “And, really- don’t mention it. Consider it my good deed for the day. Gotta support my neighbors, right?” He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes back on her rifle. 

“More like good deed for the year, you troublemaker,” she shot back, clicking the last pieces into place and placing the rifle on the floor in front of her, moving on to her modified 10mm. 

“Speaking ‘a good deeds…” he trailed off, eyeing the pistol that sat so comfortably in her hands. She hummed an mhm to encourage him to continue as the smoke billowed out from his mouth and holes where his nose used to be. “You’re an awful good shot there, sunshine.”

“You flatterer,” she accused lightly, preoccupied with the gun in her lap. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “I’ve had a lot practice. But you?” He leaned forward, squinting at her dramatically. “You some sorta assassin in a past life or somethin'? Didn’t think you needed skills like that before ya became a vault-sicle.”

Her hands never stopped their movements, like she had done this hundreds of times before. “My pop used to take us hunting. We’d sit for hours sometimes waiting for game. And Nate, he’d-“ she paused, her hands slowing. 

Hancock couldn’t smooth out the concerned wrinkle that formed between his would-be brows. “Listen, Nora-“

She shook her head and interjected. “No, no, I’m alright. Nate took me shooting a lot early on in our relationship. And I think after he served it was one of the only ways he knew how to ground himself, y’know?” Her hands had picked up their pace again. “You two actually have a lot in common.” He looked skeptical, leaning back on the couch.

(Not a great look when the woman you’re infatuated with likens you to her dead husband, he thought sourly.)

She peeked up at him through her lashes at his silence, a coy smile spreading on her face. “We were troublemakers, too,” she hummed fondly. “Pursued our own kind of frontier justice. Hoodlums, the lot of us. Had big ideas about the way the world should have been. Little anarchists. Probably what lead me to be a public defender, honestly. Wanted to change the way the world worked, I guess.”

He took another pull from his cigarette. “A public defender? You wear some kinda cape, sunshine?” He motioned at her playfully with his cigarette. “Probably explains why you took up as the Shroud so easily,” he accused. She let out a short giggle, delighted. Hancock felt like someone shot him in the gut.

“No, no, nothing like that. I was more like… like a fighter for the underdog. Lots of people weren’t able to afford legal council, so they’d bring me and my colleagues in to defend them in court. Didn’t pay that great, but it was fulfilling in its own way, y’know?” she explained, putting her 10mm back together and moving on to her shotgun. 

“Look at you sister, a woman after my own heart,” he waxed poetic. “So you’ve been fightin’ The Man since the before times?”

“Something like that.” She hummed absentmindedly. “But I guess none of that really matters now. I mean, my negotiation skills are useful for the Minutemen, I guess. And I’ve been able to haggle a little with some traders. And I know how to live with not a lot of cash- well, caps, now.” She paused, fixing him with a squint. “Nevermind. I’m just amazing,” she teased. 

“Hey, no arguments over here.” He ashed his cigarette. “I’m gonna be honest- when I threw in with ya, I wasn’t expecting much. Hell, I thought I’d be draggin' your half-dead ass through the Wasteland.” He watched her work on the shotgun, “Most people who run with me don’t live out the day. But you’ve been carryin' your weight and then some. Consider me impressed, sunshine.”

“Oh John, stop that. You’re gonna make me blush.” Her grin was all teeth. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

(Just the beautiful ones, he wanted to say. Just you. Only you.)

“Anyways-“ she snapped the shotgun back in place and started packing up her arsenal. “What’s on the menu today?”

He blinked hard at her. “Huh?”

Her focus remained on taking inventory of her pack. “Chems?”

“Ya sure you wanna do that, sister? No shame in takin' a few days off to recover. Don’t want you to feel like ya gotta or anythin'.” He put out his cigarette, trying to catch her gaze. 

She shook her head, turning to face him. Her face was set, determined. “I’m good, Hancock. I promise.”

He held her gaze for a second before shrugging coolly and relaxing back into the couch with faux indifference. “If ya say so. After all, who am I to tell you how to live.” He gestured to the scattered pile of chems in between them. “So, Mentats are off the table-“

“For now,” she interjected, haughty.

“Heh, sure. For now. So we got a few others to choose from. Psycho, Buffout, Day Tripper, Med-X, and of course, my personal preference, Jet,” he listed, glancing at his stash. 

“I’ve heard a lot about Day Tripper,” she considered aloud, getting up and stretching her tight muscles. His gaze turned predatory as she closed her eyes with a groan, reaching down to touch her toes. He was always weak for a good ass. 

(Not just a good ass, he thought. Maybe the best he’d seen, especially in that tight little suit of hers.)

“Helps ya relax. Probably right up your alley, sister,” he rasped. “Hope you don’t have any plans for the rest 'a the day.” He knew she did, though. The fact that she had even spent the morning in the State House with him was abnormal. Nora was typically running all over the Commonwealth, day and night. The first few weeks they had travelled together, Hancock had to actually convince her that one hour per night was not enough sleep to subsist on.

She paused, standing up to her full height, straightening her back. She looked torn, her nose wrinkled in thought. “I- I’m trying to give myself a minute to figure out my next step,” she confessed. “Yesterday was- a lot. And I’m short on supplies, so I wouldn’t even be able to make it across the Glowing Sea as I am now.” Nora crossed her arms across her chest, worrying her bottom lip and contemplating. “This is gonna take some planning. And as much as I want to find my son as soon as possible, at least I know he’s alive and intact in the Institute. That someone is looking out for him.” Hancock nodded slowly, eyes darting across her face. Patience was not a virtue Nora typically was known for. “So- yeah. I would love to try some Day Tripper,” she finished lamely. 

(She always got so self conscious, he noted, especially when she rambled, when she asked for help. He loved it when she rambled.)

“Day Tripper it is, then,” Hancock conceded, picking up the bottle. “Let’s get this freakshow started, eh?”

It had been about an hour since they had indulged, now sitting next to each other on the couch. They had been giggling quietly to each other for at least half of that time, shooting the shit. 

“C’mon, handsome. You’re really telling me that you’ve never had a steady partner?” Nora ribbed him, nudging him in the side. 

His grin was sharp. “None that stuck around,” he offered, nudging her back. “What about you, sunshine? Pre-War guys musta been fallin’ all over themselves to get to ya.” The thought made his chest ache.

She hummed for a second, then shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. Nate and I met kinda young, and before that I had no interest in that kinda stuff. At least, nothing long-term.”

Hancock looked at her skeptically. “No schoolyard romances for you? I find that hard to believe, sister.”

She laughed, “Believe it, honey. There were no John Hancocks around to sweep me off my feet.”

(He loved when she called him pet names. He was well and truly fucked, he realized suddenly. It was so easy, so seamless. He didn’t even think he noticed how fast and far he fell for her- but the idea didn’t scare him like it should have. It simply warmed him from the inside out. Or maybe it was chems. Yeah, he lied to himself, definitely the chems. Nothing else.)

“Well, we’ll just hafta make up for lost time, won’t we?” he replied smoothly, tossing an arm haphazardly around her shoulders, loose. She didn’t miss a beat, snuggling into his side with a quiet sigh, a small smile on her face as she watched the colors of the room dance and blend together. 

“Hey, John?”

“What’s up, sunshine?”

“You’re my best friend.” She sounded amazed. 

(Talk about a gut punch.)

He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “You’re just sayin’ that on account of the chems,” he accused. 

“Nah.” She nudged his ribs again. “You are. And that’s that.” She shifted her weight to toss her legs over one of his own, pressing against his side. “Don’t know how I’d be getting through any of this without you.”

“You’d be fine without me,” he corrected her. “Don’t need some Ghoul with a chem problem nippin' at your heels to get the shit you’ve gotten done, done.” She shook her head emphatically and looked up at him with big eyes, their faces close. He could feel the warmth of her breath fan over his gnarled cheeks, feeling like each puff of air was seeping in through the crevices of his skin and sinking in to every empty space in his heart. 

“Hey, John?” she whispered again. 

“Yeah?” he whispered back. 

(Was he holding his breath?)

“You’re very handsome,” she murmured, as if afraid to shatter the suddenly intimate moment. Nora understood now why other couples would indulge in this drug together pre-War. It made everything soft, took away the anxiety and allowed her to appreciate his company without the pressures of the outside world. 

“I think you’re talkin’ ‘bout someone else,” he kept his voice down, his rasps deeper, rumbling from his chest. “Couldn’t be this ugly mug.” That didn’t stop him from leaning his face closer to hers, meeting her halfway. She let out a shuddering breath- carefully, delicately. Her gaze lazily drifted between his ruined lips and his dark eyes. 

“You’re full of shit, John Hancock,” she whispered to him before leaning forward and carefully pressing her lips against his. He would have frozen up if not for the chems making him just as loose and pliable as she was. He didn’t move, though, couldn’t move. Didn’t want to break this spell, wake up from this obvious daydream. He couldn’t go back to pining hopelessly, following her around like a love sick puppy. He must have been stuck in his own syrupy thoughts for too long, Nora pulling away with a slight frown. 

“I- sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-“ And he cut her off immediately, fingers curling under her chin to tilt her face back up to his, gently and lazily pressing his mouth to hers. She melted into him, fingers gently curling around the lapels of his frock. They simply sat there for a few minutes, pressing chaste kisses against each other’s mouths, enjoying the intimacy. There was no world around them, no pressure to go, go, go. 

Hancock didn’t know how long they indulged in each other, didn’t know when Nora had slipped onto his lap, didn’t know when his hands slipped down to cup her ass. He couldn’t recall when their tongues began to gently explore each other’s mouths, or when he started guiding her hips in languid rolls against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t even remember the last time he took a breath- not that it was at the forefront of his mind. All he could focus on was her warm mouth, the slide of their tongues against each other, the pure ecstasy that was Nora and her affections. 

As they broke apart eventually, they pressed their foreheads together, breath mingling. Her hips didn’t stop moving, though, and he met them with every roll, pleasure slowly working into a rolling boil in his spine, his fingers and toes tingling lightly. He simultaneously felt a million miles away and stuck to the couch. The thick pleasure slowly overtook him as their rutting became more intense, his mouth brushing over her soft cheeks, carefully over the tenderness of her bruise, down the line of her throat, teeth grazing the delicate skin. She made a soft noise at the sensation, her hips stuttering as his tongue brushed along her pulse.  

Lost in the haze of pleasure, time was simultaneously inching and flying by, saturated with gentle touches and warm kisses. She had reached up to cup his scarred cheek, carefully leading his mouth back to her own, tongues meeting once again. He didn’t realize how worked up he was, or how close to the edge he was, until his hips jerked and he let out a muffled groan into her mouth, fingers digging into the soft globes of her ass harshly. Her hips slowly stopped rolling as he let out a soft sound, a whimper, and they let their lips slip away from each other. She pressed her face into his neck and let out an airy giggle. His face burned but the shame never quite took hold, the chems keeping the dismal thoughts at bay. 

(He could stay like this forever, he thought. Pants wet with his cum like a fucking teenager and everything. As long as she would stay in his arms.)

“Did you just-?”

“Sure did, sunshine,” he practically purred, throat rumbling against her lips as they gently peppered the cervices of his skin. 

“You certainly know how to make a girl feel special,” she whispered with a smile, hands gently running up and down his chest. 

“Wanna see how I make you feel after I-“

The door flew up with a bang!, the both of them startled. Hancock’s arms flew around Nora’s waist and jerked her in close, as if trying to shield her from the sudden commotion. She was still loose from the chems, relaxing her muscles immediately and sinking back down against his wet lap with a sigh at the sight of Fahrenheit in the doorway. 

“Guessing you musta forgotten how to knock,” he practically hissed at her. His bodyguard didn’t give them a second look as she strolled in and stood in front of them with a stern face. 

“The Watch just killed an Institute synth. Replaced Sammy,” she flatly reported. Hancock let out a sigh as his shoulders sagged, his grip around Nora’s waist tightening. 

“Bastards. Alright. Gimme a few,” he groused. 

His bodyguard rolled her eyes and started making her way back out of the room. 

“Bye Fahrenheit,” Nora supplied from Hancock’s neck. The woman offered no response other than a tsk and disappeared from the room as abruptly as she appeared. 

“Don’t wanna move,” Nora murmured after a moment of silence. John’s hands slid up her sides, cupping her ribs as she giggled at the contact. He gently peeled her away from his neck, his expression fond. 

“Don’t gotta, sunshine. You can stay here, I gotta go do some mayoral duties, ya feel me?” He didn’t shy away from the eye contact, indulging in the last remnants of the Day Tripper in his system. He knew the shame would rush over him like a wave as soon as it left him, so he held on to the feeling as long as he could as he gently moved Nora off his lap and onto the couch beside him. 

She laid back with a quiet sigh, eyes closed and hands resting limply on her stomach. His fingers lingered on her for an extra beat before he stood up and started looking for a cleaner pair of pants. He could hear her breathing even out as she gently slipped into a light sleep, muscles relaxed in a way he had never seen them before. He indulged himself by taking a moment to just stare at her peaceful face before changing his pants, popping three Mentats- an extra one for good luck- and striding out of the room towards the balcony to address the citizens of Goodneighbor. 

As the day progressed, it was like one problem after another started abruptly coming to his attention. Traders requiring new routes, raiders slowly expanding their territory, gangs trying to extort the good people of Goodneighbor. It wasn’t until the sky was dark and littered with stars that he was able to make his way back to the State House, eager to see his Vaultie laid out for him, to have a chance to repay her for the pleasure she so graciously gifted him. 

(He didn’t run up the stairs, he lied to himself.)

His couch was empty when he entered the room, all signs of Nora gone. He ran his hand over his face. 

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t abnormal for Hancock to go some stretches without seeing Nora. She seemed to be a hot commodity, everyone needing something from her, somehow. He typically kept his ear to the ground about the Vaultie, trying to keep up with her escapades. As soon as he’d hear one story about how she defended a farm against a raider attack and convinced the settlers to join the Minutemen, he’d catch wind that she was already on the other side of the city, clearing out Gunners and running high-stakes errands for the good people of the Commonwealth. She was seemingly everywhere but Goodneighbor.

He felt like a dog waiting for its owner to return. He’d go through the motions, fulfilling his mayoral duties, showing face and mingling with the people. He’d go pretty hard on the chems and spent a lot of nights in the Third Rail, staring into his drink. He knew that the shame would come. He was convinced he had scared her off, gone too far too fast. What gutted him, though, wasn’t just that he blew his shot with her romantically. It was also that he ruined their friendship. 

He couldn’t imagine life without Nora. She had pervaded every aspect of his days, it seemed. All the days and nights passed in a blur, and one thought kept bubbling to the surface. He really, truly cared for her- in a way he'd never cared about someone before. Hancock ran through the last day he saw her in his mind, wondering what he could have done different to make her stay. He briefly entertained the idea that he should have just told Fahrenheit to fuck off and deal with the problem herself- but he knew Nora would have given him that look, her face all scrunched up and nose wrinkled, and tell him to get his ass in gear and to help the people the best way he knew how. 

More often than not, every night on the nights he’d think about her, he’d also find his hand down his pants, trying to recreate the touch that had enraptured him so, to no avail. Nothing, it seemed, could live up to his brief taste of her, like feeling the sun on his gnarled skin for the first time. 

(And he usually hated that shit.)

He was damn embarrassed already about spilling in his pants with a little bit of over-the-clothes touching; he was even more embarrassed, though, that it wasn’t even truly the smooth rolls of her beautiful ass across his cock that had done it- it was her lips on his. He couldn’t remember the last time he locked lips- well, what he could consider his lips- like that. Intensely intimate, breathing her in, holding her tight for just a moment before she escaped his grasp like water through his fingers.

So he languished his days away, balancing Goodneighbor between order and anarchy, and waited impatiently for any word on his Nora. He considered how to approach the Vaultie about it, settling in the camp of it’s no big deal. If she didn’t want it to mean anything, he’d play right along as his withered heart was ripped out of his chest. If she regretted it, well then, he would too. 

(And lie straight through his teeth.)

He just wouldn’t, couldn’t lose her, at least as a friend. If she disappeared from his life totally- he took a hit of Jet at the thought and let the vapors pass out through his nasal cavities in a vague cloud. He opened his mouth for another hit when there was a knock at the door frame. Hancock’s gaze shot up faster than sickly green lightning lighting the sky up during a radstorm, his heart squeezing, holding his breath. 

His met yellow eyes as he let out a disappointed sigh. “Well if it ain’t the synthetic sleuth himself. How’s it goin’, Nicky?” He tried to relax his muscles and lean into the Jet hit to look more nonchalant. 

Nick just shook his head and stepped into the room, adjusting his tie. “Your gal is asking for you.”

Hancock should have been self conscious about how quickly he sat up, his spine damn near snapping into attention. “Huh?”

“Nora,” Nick said by way of explanation. 

Hancock gave the synth a confused look. “What do you mean she’s asking for me?”

Nick lit a cigarette. “Been asking for you for a few days. No one wanted to make their way all the way out here, though, so I guess I pulled the short straw.”

“Sorry Nicky, you’re gonna hafta be a little more specific here. Am I missing somethin'? Why ain’t she the one here if she wants to chat?”

Nick took a drag and let it out slowly. “Your girl took quite a few hits- been looking a little worse for wear the last few days. Finally woke up for a minute the other day and all she did was ask for you before she was out cold again.” Hancock wasn’t sure how expressive he was anymore, since his Ghoulification. He didn’t have eyebrows, his laugh lines and crows feet blending in with the dips and valleys of his cratered skin. He was sure that when he smiled it looked like a grimace, and when he wanted to maintain eye contact, without his pupils it came across as a leer. Truly the face only a mother could love.

(Well, that wasn’t quite right, was it? Not like she was around anymore to dispute the claim.)

Regardless, he was sure that despite his irradiated features, Nick could read him like a book. Hancock’s face showed a journey- confusion, concern, disbelief, joy, and then settled on an intense look towards his friend. “Well, what’re you waiting for? It’s not right to keep a dame waiting, you know,” Nick shot Hancock a knowing look before turning around and heading out the door. “I’ll meet you at the gate.”

Hancock felt like he was moving in slow motion as he gathered his pack and his thoughts raced- he shook his head, as if trying to clear the hits of Jet from his system. Nora was injured and here he was all the while, moping around and getting fucked up just to deal with his devastating little crush. Once the Jet cleared his system some minutes later, he threw his pack over his shoulder, loaded up his shotgun, threw some extra chems in his pocket, and made his way out the door while calling over his shoulder to Fahrenheit that he was stepping out, to not wait up. He could hear her scoff from somewhere in the State House, which he took as confirmation that she heard him. He met Nick at the doors that lead them out to the Wasteland, making up the considerable distance quickly and efficiently. They didn’t talk much, moving quietly through the ruins to make their way to the little settlement Nora had helped establish. 

Hancock had been to Sanctuary only a handful of times. He didn’t really love the vibe, especially since Nora always got quiet when they crossed the bridge into the derelict neighborhood. It was definitely more vibrant than his last visit, though. A few more settlers milled about, turrets humming at the borders dutifully. He could spot a slowly expanding garden behind some of the houses, some water pumps lined along the street in an orderly fashion. There were a few traders with their brahmin packed high with goods, their caravan guards not far behind. It looked like a number of newly-erected houses also dotted the streets, a plethora of beds and shelter available for anyone that might hobble through. All in all, his girl had done well with the place.

He didn’t spare it much of a glance, though, following behind Nick with determination. They made quick work of weaving through the people in the streets and sidewalks, bee-lining it for the house she typically frequented. He saw some familiar faces occupying the living room, Piper perched on a chair in the corner, Preston talking in the opposite corner with MacCready. That was a surprise- he wondered when she had picked him up. Cait pushed past the two with an annoyed look, muttering about getting a drink, while Codsworth puttered around fretfully, attempting to tidy the ruins of the house. Deacon sat on a couch, reading what looked like one of Nora’s comic books. 

“Like a damn wake in here,” Nick muttered under his breath, moving through the space smoothly, Hancock following behind him, eyes darting around. He didn’t like the morose feeling that seemed to have settled in the room. Just how bad was she that they had all descended on her settlement like this?

They scooted through the hallway and into the back corner room, Nick knocking on the dilapidated doorway with his intact hand. Dogmeat sat stalwart at the entrance, ears perking up at their appearance, tongue lolling out with joy. Nick spared him a pat on the head before stepping into the small space- made smaller with the Brotherhood Paladin crouched at her bedside. 

(Explains the extra set of Power Armor stationed outside the house, John mused with annoyance.)

Hancock didn’t let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding until his gaze settled on Nora. Beat to hell, sporting a tender, swollen eye and mottling around her neck, she was perched on a mattress with pillows propping her up into a sitting position. Her face- Hancock could read that look anywhere. That was her strictly-business-face. Stiff and carefully blank, the only indication of her true feelings a slight twitch of her busted lip. Danse’s hand, contrarily, was resting comfortably on her shoulder. 

(Too comfortably.)

Nick cleared his throat from behind Danse, the Paladin shifting his weight to block the Sole Survivor from the pair, retracting his hand with a squeeze. He immediately scowled at them and opened his mouth- 

(A Ghoul and a synth walk into a bar, Hancock thought mirthlessly. A Brotherhood of Steel’s nightmare.)

-and immediately shut it at the noise that left Nora’s throat. It was a hoarse rasp and Hancock couldn’t truly tell if it was a sound of joy or dread. It was hard to see her face from this angle behind Danse, but her words weren’t hard to decipher. 

“Aw Nicky, did you get me a present?” she practically cooed from the bed, voice almost as rough as Hancock’s. “You shouldn’t have, you big softie.”

“Good to see you up, Nora,” he replied smoothly, stepping around the larger man carefully. “Special delivery, just for you.”

“Should start a courier service at this point, Valentine. Could make a cap or two, get a nice new coat, look a little more svelte, y’know?” The lightness of her tone made Hancock relax a bit, attempting to step around Danse, who continued to block his path to Nora with a scowl. 

“If you freaks don’t mind, we’re in the middle of important Brotherhood bus-“

Nora seemed to have no issue cutting him off, halfway to stern. “Danse, we’ll have none of the name calling here, thank you.” Hancock wondered if that was her mom voice- and then immediately wondered if she just uncovered a new kink of his as his cock twitched in his pants. 

(Here he is, just hearing her voice and already melting. He was well and truly fucked.)

“Nora-“ Danse beseeched her, turning back to face her. She held up a hand with a poorly concealed wince, stopping whatever he was going to say.

“We will continue this conversation later, Danse. Thank you again for stopping by- it was very thoughtful of you.” His brow was furrowed to a degree that Hancock was sure it would get stuck like that if he maintained it for much longer. 

(A Ghoul can dream.)

Danse grunted in response, making his way out of the room dejectedly, sure to shoulder check the Ghoul on the way out. Hancock’s hand twitched to his knife but ultimately dropped to his side when his gaze fell on Nora. 

Without Danse in the way, he could see more of the damage- at least from the neck up. She was wrapped in an oversized flannel and an old, thread-bare blanket, looking smaller than usual- not in stature, but in presence. She typically could command a room easily, but her shoulders were notably more curled into herself, hands twitchy in her laps, and her usual burning warmth now a simple ember. He could see the bandages around her chest peeking out from the collar of the shirt, stained brown with old, dried blood. She had a cut across the bridge of her nose that looked nowhere near shallow, the tissue swelling around it angrily, a kaleidoscope of pain. The indents around her neck, he realized with dread, looked like handprints. His stomach dropped as Dogmeat trotted over to her bedside and placed his head on the mattress next to her hip, Nora’s hand absentmindedly stroking between his ears. 

“Gentlemen,” she smiled lightly, then grimaced at the pull on her busted lip. 

“Grabbed you some more Stimpacks while I was out- Daisy sends her regards, by the way. Got the Ghoul wrapped around your little finger, huh?” His bright yellow eyes flickered to Hancock, who stood there, dumb. If Nora noticed, she didn’t say a thing- and she definitely didn’t, seeing as her eyes were locked on the mayor in front of her. “Caught a straggler, too.”

“Had to bait him out of his hidey-hole with some cram, huh?” she teased quitely before breaking off into a coughing fit, hands flying to her chest. Hancock’s legs carried him to her side without thought, easing her back against the pillows as she gasped and caught her breath. 

“Woah there, sunshine. No need to get worked up over lil’ ole me,” Hancock tried to keep his tone light, passing her the open purified water can sitting on the side table next to the bed. 

“I’ll let you kids chat,” Nick said, shooting Hancock a look that said more than the synth's voice box ever could. As the detective made his way out of the room, Nora patted the open space on the mattress beside her. Hancock hesitated, making Nora’s slight smile bend down into a soft frown that tugged on her lips. They were silent for a moment, both looking away from each other. Nora fidgeted with the can in her hands, rubbing Dogmeat’s head between the ears. John’s chest ached with fondness. She never could just sit still. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Nora rasped, still looking anywhere but at him. “I, uh- I didn’t mean to drag you here. I was kind of, um, in and out of it. Don’t really remember much of the last few days.”

(It was cute when she stuttered, he sighed to himself. She didn’t do it much, being the smooth talker she was, but he treasured it when he heard it. Made her more human, less deific. More attainable.)

“Nothing to apologize for, sister. Looks like already paid your penance, besides.” He shifted his weight, eyes continuously darting to the saturated bandages he could see, pulling his attention like a magnet. He wondered how much more damage there was under her ill-fitting clothes. 

She let out a short hum, staring at her feet under the blanket. “I don’t know what Nick told you, but I hope he didn’t coerce you into coming. I know after- well, after last time we saw each other-“

“No need to explain. ‘Sides, looks like you found someone more suitable, eh?” He let out a sardonic chuckle. Her eyes flew to his face. 

“What?” He must have been imagining the edge to her question. He motioned vaguely to the doorway, digging through his frock pockets for his pack of cigarettes. He needed to do something to calm his nerves. 

“C’mon, sister. No need to lie to your ole friend Hancock.” He brought up the cigarette to his mouth without his hands trembling, which was definitely a win for him. “Everyone can see the way he looks at ya. Like you hung the fuckin’ moon and every star in the sky.”

(Was he talking about himself, now?)

“Hancock, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Danse,” he spoke plainly, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “The two 'a you make a good pair. Looks like ya got him nice and whipped, too. Good on ya.” There was a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there when he entered the room. His eyes crinkled mirthlessly. Better to spare her the awkwardness early, he reasoned. He would count himself lucky for having even a brief moment of her affections- that would keep him going for a while. And if she still wanted to associate with him- as friends, of course- he’d take what he could get. 

“John-“

“Hey, no worries, sister. Nothing to feel ashamed about. Plenty ‘a folk get curious and wanna ride the Ghoul train at least once to say they did it. No shame in tryin’.”

“John.”

“I won’t mention it to him, too. Seems like he ain’t the type to forgive and forget, ya feel me?”

“Get out.” He couldn’t control the jerk of his head towards her. 

“Huh?”

“Get the fuck out.” She was trembling, fingers digging into her thighs. 

(Uh-oh. That only meant one of three things: she was nervous, she was upset, or she was pissed.)

“Nora?” She refused to look at him, muscles tight and jerky from the strain against her injuries. He could see that she was physically holding herself back, eyes locked onto the broken wall in front of her. Dogmeat whined beside her, already missing her affections. 

(Me too, man, John thought dismally.)

“Hey, sunshine, it’s all good-“

“Do not call me that. Now get out. Before I make you get out,” her hiss was sharper with the hoarseness in her throat. 

Usually he adored her viciousness, her willingness to get down and dirty, to embrace the ruthlessness that the Wasteland demanded. The violence she was capable of wielding against those who deserved it. This, though, was new. He never had that proverbial gun pointed towards him. Not like this.

He felt conflicted. She was hot wearing that anger, that passion for destruction. Enticing. And he was usually more than happy to meet someone in a conflict head-on, never known to back down from a good fight. But this was Nora, and though he'd love to go tête-à-tête with her any other day, have her spit venom at him and make him burn, he determined quickly that this wasn't the time or the place. Nevermind that he was suddenly getting the distinct impression that she wanted nothing to do with him. That shit hurt.

He took a step or two back, hands up to placate her. “Sure, sure. No problem. Feel better,” he offered lamely, continuing to back out of the room before turning about face and coolly sauntering out of the house, taking a huge drag when he stepped out of abode. At least, he hoped it was perceived that way, and not the way he really felt. 

Like she had gutted him, just like he did Finn the first time he met her.

(How poetic.)

The rest of the day went by in a blur, Hancock floating around the settlement aimlessly, taking hits of Jet regularly, punctuated with a Mentat here or there, keeping to himself. Sanctuary buzzed around him, the world continuing to turn. He figured he’d leave at first light to make his way back to Goodneighbor to avoid the dangers that frequented the Commonwealth in the dark. No need to tempt fate and all. 

He was high when Nick settled next to him on the sidewalk in front of the home that housed Nora’s piecemeal Power Armor. The synth took out a cigarette and offered one to the sulking Ghoul, lighting his own, then Hancock’s once it was between the mayor’s fingers. They sat silently for quite some time, the sun disappearing over the horizon, bloody and beautiful in its setting. 

“I’m not going to mince words, Mr. Mayor. I thought you were smarter than that,” the synth mused. Hancock snorted, staring at the starry sky above them. 

“Gonna hafta be more specific, brother.”

“Your girl.”

“She ain’t mine.”

“You keep pulling stunts like that and she won’t be,” Nick said bluntly, not sparing Hancock a glance. “She’s a fine dame. Got a good head on her shoulders.”

“Sorry, Nicky,” Hancock took a drag. “Seems like she’s already taken.”

The synth shook his head with a dry chuckle. “Didn’t know you were blind and deaf.”

John turned towards him, face flat. “You’re a perceptive guy, Nick. You seen how that Brotherhood bastard looks at her? She gives him more than the time ‘a day, ya feel me? Went up to their eyesore of a ship, joined their ranks. She’s his responsibility,” he emphasized. 

“Where’d you get all that?”

“Huh?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of know-how about their interactions. You heard all this from her?”

He flinched. “No- nah, heard it through my ears ‘round the Commonwealth.”

“Oh,” Nick drawled. “So then you’ve seen it, then?”

“Seen what?”

“Her give him the time of day?”

“Well, you saw it. When we walked in-“

“I saw it alright. Saw a woman swatting away a gnat.”

“C’mon Nicky, you’re gonna break my heart, here. She ain’t interested, end ‘a story,” John took out an inhaler, shook it, and took another hit of Jet. His head was racing at Nick’s suggestions. 

“Seems like yours isn't the only heart breaking here, Hancock,” the synth stood up with a groan, muttering about needing to oil his joints soon as he slowly walked away from the miserable Ghoul. Hancock sat there for a few hours, just staring up at the sky, the darkness plastered with clusters of shining stars, blinking down at him mockingly. He envied the idea of them, so far removed from the bullshit on the ground. He rubbed his face roughly, digging through his pockets for a hit of something stronger. 

(Maybe some Day Tripper- no, scratch that. Never touching the stuff again, he mused to himself dryly.)

He stood up with a grunt himself to start making his miserable way towards one of the structures with available beds when he almost physically ran over Piper. 

“Hancock- there you are-“ she huffed, breathing hard. “Where the fuck have you been? Been looking for ya everywhere!”

He scratched his cheek, “Been right here, sister. Whatcha need?” He started rooting through his pockets again, ready for her to request a hit from the stash. 

“It’s not me, you- look, Blue needs you, alright?”

He couldn’t hold back his bark of flat laughter in her face. “Nah, sorry, not interested. Threatened me with bodily harm last I saw her.”

Piper started pushing him towards the broken house that he was basically forced out of. “We need Med-X, and we need it for her now,” she hissed at him, pushing with all her force to get him to stumble down the cracked pavement. She wasn’t particularly strong, but he wasn’t particularly bulky. 

“Woah, hey, woah. You sayin ain’t no one else got any?” he asked skeptically. She shoved him again. 

“No! We were low before and then- she got hurt and we used up the supply- just shut up and let’s go already!” He sighed dejectedly, making his way with the intrepid reporter in tow. He definitely wasn’t dragging his feet. No, sir.

When they entered the house, they were immediately greeted with a commotion coming from the back room. Piper and John shared a glance before hurrying their way towards Nora’s room. 

“Get back in bed, you stubborn bi- butthead!” MacCready snapped at her, attempting to physically stop her from rising off the mattress. She had one leg under her, the other lying limp in front of her. “Your leg is fu- fricking broken, you idiot! You can’t walk right now!” 

“I’m not just lying here,” Nora shot back. “I have too much to do- fuck, MacCready, we have to help your kid!”

“Won’t help much if you’re dead!”

Piper gestured sharply to the scene in front of her, as if to say, see? John froze in the doorway when her eyes landed on him and sharpened into glare. 

“No.”

“Blue, c’mon, he can help-“

“I don’t want help. Especially from him,” she snarled emphatically. 

“C’mon, sister. Let’s get you healed up, huh?” He tried to soothe her like she was a wild radstag, approaching slowly with his hands up. “Mac’s right, ain’t no use to anyone if you’re dead on the side of the road, eh?”

“What do you care?” she hissed, momentarily distracted from her goal by her anger at the Ghoul. 

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause trouble-“

“Too fucking late, asshole.”

“-but we gotta get ya feelin’ better. Ain’t gonna heal much if you’re pulling this shit.”

She blinked at him, taken aback. “Pulling-? Shit-? That’s rich coming from your ass,” Nora growled at him. Piper and MacCready looked at each other and slowly started backing out of the room. 

“You’re upset ‘cause 'a some bad decisions. I get it, I’ve been there. But don’t go gettin' all self-destructive on me.”

She laughed a manic laugh that dissolved into a full coughing fit for a straight two minutes, holding her side and shaking with the force of the spasms. John took this opportunity to gently lead her back against the pillows and support her shoulders so she was as upright as she could be. It was silent for a minute after she stopped, breathing hard, ragged. 

“I got just the thing to fix ya up, sister. Gonna let me give it to ya?”

“I don’t-“ she wheezed, no venom behind her words, “I don’t want anything from you.” She just sounded winded, now. Tired, but the kind that sunk deep into bone. Pervasive, inescapable.

“C’mon, for old times’ sake, then I’ll leave ya alone, promise. Didn’t ya wanna take the chem tour? This is just another stop,” he held up the needle of Med-X. She flinched away from it like it would burn her. 

“No, no, I don’t need it, I don’t want it-“ 

“Hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, I’m not in any pain-“ She grit her teeth as her body betrayed her promptly. 

“No need to play hero here. It’s just me,” he tried to speak soothingly- he knew she liked his voice, she had told him as much. 

(She had told him a lot of things, though, he thought.)

“No, Hancock, I can’t-“

“Talk to me, sunshine. What’re you afraid of?”

Her eyes shone in the low light provided by the bare lamp in the corner, offering a moody tone to the room and its peeling walls. “That shit, it- what if- what if I don’t wake up?” she whispered, the wind officially out of her sails. His brow furrowed at her, confused. 

“Nora…”

“No, I can’t. I’ve seen- I’ve seen it before, I’ve seen it, John,” she searched his eyes, beseeching, pleading. 

He cautiously sat on the edge of the bed to give her his full attention. “Hey, listen. One dose won’t hurt, I promise. Ya already had it before, right? And look at ya, still kickin’ and spittin’ like always.” She was silent at that, tears gathering in her lash line. “Listen, I’ll- hey, none ‘a that, alright? I’ll stay with you the whole time. And if you start feelin’ any sort ‘a way, I got some Addictol handy,” he soothed, holding up the other chem in supplication. 

She stared at the chems in his hand, quiet, before whispering, “You promise? You promise you’ll stay?”

He held her gaze, hoping and wishing that she could see how his heart bled for her. “I promise.”

There was that intimacy again, he noted. It wasn’t fair, being shown something so wholly encompassing and having it taken away from him so quickly. He craved each moment, wanted every single second to drag on forever. His fingers twitched to indulge in some Jet, prolong this feeling while he had it. She eventually gave a short nod, holding out her arm carefully and looking away. The needle sunk in with practiced hands, steadying her arm as she flinched. It was over just as quickly, Hancock removing the needle and recapping it before replacing it in his frock pocket. 

They sat there in silence as she slowly relaxed back into the pillows behind her. He stood up and resettled in the chair next to the bed, eyes roving over each square inch of her he could see. 

“My brother died,” she suddenly stated, eyelids heavy, shoulders slumped further. Hancock let the silence follow, let her have time to process what she wanted to say before she said it. Med-X always made him fuzzy, too. “Overdosed on Med-X. I found him-” She took a beat to breathe- the kind of breath he knew she took to ground herself and steady the tremble in her voice. “I found him first. But it was too late.” John nodded. He knew the feeling, having lost plenty of fellow junkies and drifters alike to chems. He himself had overdosed in the past, being lucky enough to have been found before it became permanent. “Woulda been great with all this- this Wasteland shit,” her words flowed easier, now. Slightly slurred with exhaustion and Med-X. “Way smarter than me. Had a mind for- for strategy. Knew how to inspire people, get them to work together.”

“Sounds like a good guy,” Hancock offered lamely. Nora nodded like he had just told her the secrets of the universe. 

“The best,” she emphasized. “Mean streak a mile wide, though, y’know?” They shared a look, the memory of one of their earliest conversations about John’s own brother’s behavior at the forefront of both of their minds. 

“Yeah,” he conceded. “I know.” They sat in silence for a while longer, and eventually her breathing evened out. He was convinced she had fallen asleep when she spoke again. 

“Why’d you say it?” she whispered hoarsely. 

He looked up at her from the knife he was flipping in his hand. “I say a lot, sunshine. Gotta get specific.”

“All that stuff. About me and Danse.” Her eyes were on her hands in her lap, eyelids slowly giving into gravity, fingers twitching and picking at the dirt under her nails. 

“Oh- sorry, sister. Thought it was common knowledge. Didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable." His apology felt more like a question. 

“It’s- that’s not-“ She shook her head slowly, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled. “I don’t- I mean, I think he’s fine, but I don’t like- I don’t like him, not like that.” There she went, tripping over her words again.

(God, he had it bad.)

“Oh,” John offered. He suddenly wished he had taken some Mentats before this. They were silent again for a few moments. 

“I know how he looks at me. But he’s not my- I'm not-” she paused to search for the right word in her increasingly fuzzy brain. "Not my type," she settled on.

“Wasn’t your husband the soldier-type?”

She nodded slowly. “Enlisted to pay for college, yeah. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye after that,” she rasped. “Never was really into that kind of stuff. We were against the war in the beginning, but he ended up changing his mind and- and we were poor and- and he couldn’t get a job without that damn degree…“

“Oh,” he croaked again. 

“Yeah,” she murmured. 

“So what is it?” 

“What’s what?” 

“Your type.” She squinted at him hard, headed tilted, looking thoroughly confused. 

“What?”

“You said he isn’t your type.”

“I- did I?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” she parroted. She looked down again as Hancock studied her. When she looked back up, her eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, hips wiggling for a moment to settle her back against the pillows as comfortably as she cold manage. “You.”

“Huh?”

“You’re my type. It’s you,” she mumbled, yawning. 

John stared at her, then cracked a flat grin at her. “Heh, good one. If you don’t wanna tell me, ya don’t gotta.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, John Hancock,” she smiled weakly to herself, her eyes closing and her body relaxing into the pillows behind her, letting the chem settle over her and pull her into a deep sleep. 

Chapter Text

“Sister, ya gotta stop itchin’.”

“You try looking like a mummy,” Nora grumbled, nose wrinkled. 

“I’m already there, sunshine,” Hancock shifted in his seat next to her. He observed her curiously as her fingers started to work the buttons running down the front of her flannel. “Woah there, you fixin’ to give me show?”

She made a face at him, “My bandages are soaked through, John. I keep them on any longer and I’ll be fighting an infection on top of my injuries.” She started to unbutton her shirt before pausing again. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can leave. I can always get Piper to help instead.”

“Who am I to pass on a free peep show?” He tried to keep his tone light, his posture casual. Tried to ignore the fact that he would be sweating bullets if he still had pores. 

“Who said anything about free?” Nora raised an eyebrow at him before finishing her task and opening her shirt, revealing browning bandages. “You’re gonna help me with this.” Hancock's brow furrowed in focus as he began circling the bed and approaching her other side, shifting forward to help her take her arms out of the sleeves carefully. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up, sunshine. You been holdin' out on me?” Hancock rasped, his throat suddenly dry. Her left arm was covered in intricate patterns, colors blending together to create a tapestry on her skin, blooms of color painting the visage of a veritable garden spanning the length of her arm, stretching from shoulder to wrist. The flowers were vibrant and seemed masterfully done. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I’ve been covered up pretty well since I woke up,” Nora shrugged, then winced at the pull of her muscles. Hancock had, of course, seen tattoos before. Those Children of Atom often had their faces marked crudely, but this was different. He couldn’t help but gently run his fingertips over her skin, mesmerized. She allowed herself a little smile at his wonderment before shivering at the feeling of his textured skin against hers. Goosebumps formed under where he touched, making him look up to meet Nora’s intense gaze. “John…” she rasped quietly. 

(When had he started to lean forward?)

He caught himself before he did something stupid, starting to lean back and remove his gentle grasp of her arm. She reached out and gingerly held his hand in place, eyes searching his. She must have seen something in those dark pools that she was satisfied with, gently pulling him closer. He came willingly, now perched on the side of her bed. There wasn’t much space between their faces, her thumb gently brushing the back of the hand that still carefully gripped her tattooed arm. The smooth skin that ran over the back of his cratered hand was soothing, to say the least. Made him feel treasured, the way her grasp was so careful, handling him with care. 

She reached up with her hand slowly, aiming for his cheek. As her fingers brushed his ruined face, she hissed abruptly, jerking away from him and grasping her side. Hancock startled at the sound, trance broken. He went to lean away from her, give her space, but her free hand clamped around his, keeping him close as she fought her pain. 

“You need another hit 'a the good stuff?” Hancock asked, concerned. She shook her head stiffly and leaned back into the pillows carefully. 

“No, no. I just need to be more mindful,” she groaned quietly, slow and measured breaths escaping her mouth. “Still isn’t the worst I’ve had.”

He looked at her, disbelief plain on his face. “Ya look like you got chewed up and spit out by a Deathclaw, sister. What do you mean, it ain’t the worst?”

“Labor,” she deadpanned, letting out a slow breath. “But, I wouldn’t be against trying something else on your menu.” He let a small grin spread across his face, digging through his pocket with his available hand. 

“Hmm, let’s see here… I think you deserve a hit of a classic, ‘specially if we’re gonna be changin’ those bandages.” He held up the inhaler of Jet for her to inspect. 

“That’s made of brahmin shit, right?” she rasped, gently releasing his hand to carefully take a hold of the chem. He immediately missed the warmth of her palm around his bony wrist.

Hancock nodded, leaning back a bit to give her some more space. “The vapors of it, sure.”

She seemed to mull it over quietly, turning it this way and that curiously. “Okay,” she looked up him. “Let’s do it.”

He smiled at the determination on her face. “Alright, sister. Let’s get all your shit ready first though, alright? Don’t want the comedown while we’re gettin' you through the worst of it.”

She nodded, fingers running over the sides of the inhaler methodically. “There should be fresh ones in the dresser in the corner, along with some Stimpacks.”

Nora paused, catching his gaze with her own. “You don’t have to do this, John,” she said softly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can ask someone else. I don’t wanna put you in this position if you’re unsure, it’s really alright.”

“You kiddin’? And let one of those bozos poke and prod at ya? Not a chance, sunshine.” She held his gaze for a moment more before nodding and moving to sit up straight. He made his way to the dresser, opening up the drawers and pulling out the bandages and Stimpacks in the middle drawer, packed tight with some old clothes and a few cans of purified water. When he turned back to her, her fingers were uselessly picking at the knot that held her bindings in place. He gently batted her hands away after putting the supplies on the bed next to her. 

He picked up the Jet and pressed it into her hand. “Shake it, take a hit, hold it, take another breath, and slowly let it out,” he instructed. “Then lean back and enjoy the ride.”

“Can you show me?” she asked coyly, voice rough. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“Be happy to, sister." He grabbed the Jet out of her hand, shook it, and pressed down on the canister as he took a deep inhale from the mouthpiece. He held for a second, took another breath, then let it out. Vapor snuck like a cloud out of his mouth and nasal cavities. “Your turn,” he offered it back to her. She gently grasped his wrist instead, thumb running lightly along the inside. 

“I don’t know if I’ll do it right.” She would be purring, if not for the damage her throat had taken from her assault. It came out more sultry than playful, and John’s cock to stirred in his pants accordingly. He felt like a well-trained mutt already, her affection a raw steak held in front of him.

He swallowed, time slow and euphoria wrapping his mind in silk. It was easy to keep his wits about him, between his impressive tolerance as a Ghoul and as a regular chem user, but a vague light, floaty feeling still trickled through his veins. He pressed the Jet into her hand when she released his wrist and covered her soft hand with his own ruined one. He gently lead her through the motions- jerking it up and down twice, holding it up for her to lean slightly into him and wrap her plush lips around the inhaler. His thumb pressed hers down over the canister as she took a breath, removing the chem from her mouth. She didn’t lean back, though, staying in his space as she took a quiet breath, holding for a moment before letting the Jet out. He leaned forward and inhaled sharply, taking the remnants of her hit into his lungs.

They stayed there for a long, long moment, stretched out thanks to the chem. 

“John?” Nora whispered, hand holding the Jet still covered by his own. 

“Yeah?” he breathed, leaning forward even more to subtly take a lungful of her. 

“My bandages,” she kept her voice low, as if afraid to shatter the moment. Though he moved back and took the chem from her hand, the room still felt thick, heavy. Her gaze on him was more intense than he had ever seen it, taking in every little divot and crevice painting his face. How could he love and hate something so strongly at the same time?

After he put the inhaler on the bed, his fingers, in reality, made short work of her dirty bandages, but the process felt longer to the pair. Every brush of his gnarled digits against her abdomen felt like it lingered, each contact purposeful. Even as he pulled the dressing away from her skin and revealed her breasts, he barely spared them a glance, locked onto her face. 

(How smitten did he have to be to disregard a gorgeous pair of tits in favor of eye contact?)

He only glanced away for a second to assess the damage before he jolted back, cursing. Her glassy eyes followed him, nonplussed by his reaction, relaxed. “Fuck, Nora!” John hissed, hands hesitantly tracing the swollen stretch of skin that wrapped around the entirety of her torso. She shivered under his touch and his gaze, nipples hard and peaked under his ministrations. 

“Not the worst reaction I’ve gotten after taking off my clothes,” she rasped. His eyes traced the damage down to her abdomen, where a straight line of discoloration peeked out from the waistband of her panties. He didn’t even think as his fingers followed the scar carefully. “That’s from Shaun,” she murmured at his silence. “Had some complications. All good now, though.”

(Was she trying to reassure him?)

He nodded, fingers continuing on to follow the stretch marks around her hips and stomach. “You finally gonna tell me what happened to make ya look like a herd of brahmin decided to use you as a doormat?” He finally returned his gaze to her face, hand warm against her hip as he curled it around her possessively. 

“Not much to tell,” she deflected, gaze shifting slowly between his dark eyes. “Bit off more than I could chew, is all. I’ll be right as rain soon enough, don’t worry.” She had a large gash on her side with what looked like road rash surrounding it; the whole picture looking angry in its spread across the skin of most of her abdomen. As he pulled away the soiled bandages, the area became irritated, pinpricks of blood started to appear across the damaged skin. 

“Nora,” he stressed her name. 

Her nose wrinkled at him. “Stumbled into a Super Mutant camp. Thought I got them all, but two got the drop on me. Tried to snap my neck, and when that didn’t work, tried to pop my lungs by squeezing me like a tarberry. Managed to throw a grenade a few feet and blast the bastards to bits, but one of them ended up landing on my leg,” she motioned to her splinted limb.

Her fingers lazily swiped next to her, closing around a Stimpack and preparing to administer it into the gash. She was stopped by his hand grasping the syringe, pulling it from her grip. 

“John?” She looked confused as he leaned forward. He didn’t speak as he injected it into the wound, a sharp breath the only sign of discomfort from the woman. She melted back against the pillows when he withdrew the needle, holding her tongue when he moved to apply the next syringe to her leg. Her thigh twitched under his hands, then settled. He proceeded to start wrapping her back up with the clean dressing, hip to armpit. 

Her eyes followed his face dutifully, body pliant under his hands. “I’m fine, alright? No need to worry about me.” He didn’t stop until he was finished, hands gently smoothing over her freshly-wrapped ribs. She shuddered. 

(Her words echoed in his head, then. You’re my type, she’d said.)

“You’re full ‘a shit, Nora.” He threw her words back in her face before he leaned in to touch his mouth to hers. 

The Jet amplified it all, slowing their movements to truly savor the contact. His hand cupped the back of her neck carefully, minding the tenderness decorating the smooth column. She whined softly against his mouth at the feel of his gentle grip. 

(It should be his fingerprints there, he thought darkly. Bet she’d beg so pretty for him to do it, too.)

Nora whined again as he gently parted his lips from hers, her mouth chasing his. He grinned at her, reaching for the Jet. 

“Ready for another hit?” he hummed, holding it up to her mouth. She nodded dumbly, wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece while maintaining eye contact with the Ghoul. Nora took a nice, big hit, closing her eyes and holding it in as he pulled the chem away from her and tossed the empty canister behind him. He immediately pressed his mouth back to hers urgently. She made a noise of surprise, her eyes fluttering open momentarily before slowly easing closed again. She let the Jet float out of her lungs as he had her shotgun the cloud into his mouth. He breathed in the chem before their tongues began to tangle sloppily. 

There was no real decorum. Their lips and tongues were messy against each other, each moment stretching on for what seemed like hours. He could feel the heat radiating off of her soft cheeks as he gently pushed her further back into the pillows behind her. Nora whined against his mouth and reached for him, fingers curling into his waistband and the flag around his hips that held up his pants. With his free hand, he gently batted her tricky fingers away, earning another whine from her sore throat. His fingers very, very carefully applied a minute amount of pressure on the back of her neck.

As he slowly pulled away from her, a string of saliva connected their lips. He grinned. "So whiny, sunshine." They both panted quietly before she leaned forward once more to claim his mouth. After brushing her hands away from his bulge again, John reached up with his free hand and gently slid his palm over her breast. Her hips jumped, a groan of pain and pleasure spilling from her at the jostling of her broken leg. He slid his thumb in a circle over her nipple, zeroing in easily as they stood peaked under the bandages. Her hips twitched again and Nora reached for him a second time, settling her hands on his chest. 

He pulled his mouth away to graze his lack of lips across the plain of her cheek to give her busted lip a break. He started murmuring in her ear as his hand continued to move downwards, taking advantage of her lack of pants under the threadbare blanket, fingers teasing the damp spot forming at the gusset of her underwear. She groaned, grip curling around his shirt’s material pooling at his stomach as he leaned over her.

“Gonna let me make ya feel good this time?” he rasped in her ear. She moaned softly, weakly nodding her head in his grasp. “Gonna make a dirty Ghoul fucker outta you yet, sunshine. Get ya sloppy and wet so I can just slide right in. You want that?”

“Please, John,” she wheezed. “I need it.”

His fingers continued to stroke her through her panties, the material clinging to her lips. She started trying to buck into his grip, but he immediately stopped and pushed her hips carefully back into the mattress. “None ‘a that now. You just sit back and let me take care ‘a ya,” he hummed in her ear, pressing his ruined lips against her temple at her short nod. “Good girl.” Her hips jumped again, but he gave her a pass. 

(Praise kink: confirmed.)

His touch stayed light, barely there. She was being noisy, groaning and whimpering, and though Hancock loved a good bout of exhibitionism, he hoped the dwelling was empty. Hoped to collect her noises of pleasure, lock them away for himself to gorge on in private moments.

(There he went again with the possessive shit. She ain’t even yours, you naive bastard.)

It wasn’t until he pushed her panties to the side and slid a finger into her carefully that she gasped out, “John.” That shit alone made him groan into her ear, his own hips twitching to seek out friction. Her fingers started slowly sliding down his stomach, catching the scars with a gentle touch through his shirt that made his cock pulse. 

His finger grazed the walls of her heat rhythmically, easing into her tight cunt. He allowed her some time to relax before sliding a second one in. She let out a harsh groan and tugged at his shirt sharply. “Fuck, John, John,” she whined, lips parted and chest rising and falling in a pant. 

“How’s it feel, love?” He pressed his mouth against her temple again in the suggestion of a kiss. “Feel good? You like that shit? God, you’re tight,” he rambled against her hair. 

“Been- been 200- fuck,” Nora whimpered under him. At this point, Hancock had her pressed snuggly into the pillows supporting her, his body nigh caging her in. 

(She should be pushing him away and off of her, John thought. Instead she was trying to pull him closer.)

“Been savin' yourself for me?” he teased breathlessly. She nodded in his grip, fingers once again wrapping around the flag that secured his pants. 

“Just you, John. Only you,” Nora murmured. He groaned in her ear, readjusting his hand so his textured thumb could catch her clit. She choked on a loud moan, hips jerking this way and that, like she couldn’t decide whether she wanted more or was overstimulated. His fingers froze and she let out a sob. 

“What’d I say?” he tsked quietly. “You keep that up 'n you’re gonna make yourself bleed, sunshine. Only good girls get to come. Are ya gonna be my good girl?” he rasped, his own hips arching as her hands scrambled with the knot of the flag, fighting to get it loose. 

“Please, John, please,” she panted, “I’ll be good, I promise- I-” Her fingers finally got the flag untied and immediately honed in on the zipper of his pants, pulling it down and grasping his cock firmly. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, hips bucking under her grip. “Nora-“ The hand supporting her neck tightened slightly and she sobbed again, fighting the urge to roll her hips into his hand at the warmth of pain that bloomed around his hand, giving an edge to the pleasure that took her breath away. He slowly started back up, his rhythm building as he slid his fingers through her heat and teased her clit. He could already feel her beginning to tighten around his hand, her own pumps of his cock speeding up to match his pace.  

“Gonna make me cum,” she breathed into his ear. “Gonna- gonna cum, John. Please, please, please,” she chanted quietly, thighs beginning to shake

“C’mon, love,” he groaned. “Gimme a good one and I’ll use my mouth next time. Ya want that?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-“ she hiccuped, turning her head to seek out his lips and whining when his grip on the back of his neck kept her head straight. “John,” she gasped.

He let out a rough, breathless chuckle before capturing her lips once more, her tongue immediately dipping against his. Between the Jet and her mouth, everything was moving in slow motion. He felt like he could have stayed there in limbo for the rest of his unnatural life. The sensation of her clamping down around his fingers while she jerked him off was intoxicating. So it was no wonder that, as she squeezed around his fingers and rolled her hips, letting out subdued sounds of pleasure, he wasn’t far behind. Her grip on his cock had, predictably, stopped its movement as she came. That didn’t stop Hancock from rocking into her warm hand, though, groaning harshly against her mouth. He felt half feral, chasing his pleasure like this.

She let out a strangled noise of overstimulation as his fingers continue to abuse her, his thumb rubbing her release around her clit. Her hips jerked away, but he followed her relentlessly. She sounded like a wounded animal, bucking and writhing in his hold, their mouths still pressed together. 

“One more, Nora. Gimme one more good one, atta girl,” he rasped as he pulled away from her mouth momentarily before biting her bottom lip carefully and leaning back into her kiss, stealing the noises from her throat. He continued his steady but mindful attack on her body, coaxing sounds and slick from her in a continuous stream.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she gasped, eyes wet and legs beginning to shake again. “John, please!”

(She must have been worked up, he thought fleetingly, if she was already about to cum again from just some hand play.)

Her hand jerked around him without rhythm, her focus entirely destroyed by the way his fingers crooked up into the spongy spot inside of her. She let out a new, low moan as her release covered his arm, the Ghoul working her through it as he was hit with his own orgasm, which had cum landing in stripes across the top of the blanket across her hips and her fingers.

They both sat there, panting, staring at each other with blissed out expressions. “Fuck,” she panted quietly, slowly stroking his softening cock, eyes half-lidded. 

“You gotta way with words,” he breathed, his own fingers gently running up and down the length of her lips, following the seam of her. She let out a whimper and tightened her grasp around him, then whined as he gently began to remove his hand from between her legs. 

His hips jerked under the increase in pressure and, as he held up his soaked hands in the dull light of the room, he spread his fingers to inspect the strings of cum that coated his Ghoulish digits. Her eyes shone as they followed the movements, lips parted and gently huffing to catch her breath. 

He was enraptured, though, and leaned forward to wrap his tongue around one of his fingers, savoring the first taste of her on his tongue. He must have let out an audible groan because her gaze flew to his face, her breath picking up as she watched him. His mouth followed the path of his tongue, engulfing the length of his corded finger and sucking hard enough to produce a wet sound. Her free hand scrambled to clench at his shirt again, gripping onto him with such ferocity that he was sure she felt like she’d float away if he didn’t ground her. 

“John,” she whispered, pulling his attention off of her spend still coating his hand. His black eyes locked onto her face as her own gaze zeroed in on to his glistening fingers. She licked her lips before she darted her hooded eyes back to him. His lips twisted harshly into a grin as he gently pulled her forward with the grip he still maintained around the back of her neck, thumb carefully brushing her pulse as he helped her sit up straight. She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out minutely, a gentle noise rumbling from her throat as he pressed a whorled finger on the soft, wet pad. Her lips carefully wrapped around the digit, tongue stroking the length slowly, her eyes drifting shut. 

(Oral fixation much?)

His cock twitched painfully, still in her loose grip. After a moment, he gently pulled away from her mouth, despite her quiet noise of displeasure. 

“Don’t worry, sunshine. Enough to go around,” he grinned with a mouth full of teeth and was sure it looked more threatening than anything else- but it abruptly made Nora shy, as if overwhelmed by the fact that he had his attention on her. He made a show about licking the rest of his hand, humming contentedly at the tang of her on his tongue. She begrudgingly released his cock with a longing glance, and he chuckled. 

“Now this is a taste a Ghoul could get used to,” he rumbled against his palm. 

“You’re gonna make me blush,” she whispered, leaning forward to give him a slow peck, chaste but lingering. “You gonna stay the night?”

“You want me to?” he breathed against her mouth. 

She nodded, brushing her nose against the ridges of his ruined face. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she rasped. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chapter Text

Some time passed after the Med-X incident before Hancock saw Nora again.

He had headed out the next day after she promised to come by and grab him for her next venture. “You get into shit when you’re on your own,” he had told her quietly in the late morning light. “You’re trouble, sister.”

“Thought you liked trouble, honey,” she hummed back, making a warmth spread across his chest. They hadn’t really spoken about what had happened the night before. Hancock didn’t press and Nora didn’t offer an opportunity for that kind of conversation- at least, no opportunity that he saw. Not that he was chomping at the bit to hear her inevitable regret. Ghouls like him just didn't land women like her. That didn't mean he wasn't taking anything away from their entanglement, gripping tightly onto the feeling of her soft hands on him, her kisses and affections. He felt good.

As he had extricated himself from her languid form on the mattress, she had reached up to gently brush his cheek, smiled this smile that got his stomach tying into knots, and promptly passed out again, exhausted. He allowed himself to press his lips against the top of her head, gently inhaling, before heading out the door. 

(Better to save her from the horror of waking up to his ugly mug twice.)

He didn’t see her when she strolled through the gates with Dogmeat in tow, didn’t see her stop and spend some time chatting with Daisy. The two of them got along swimmingly, often discussing into the night all of the pre-War shenanigans they got up to, trading stories and giggling like pre-teens at a sleepover.  

It was already pretty late into the evening, Goodneighbor alight with a low, warm glow. Nora squatted down to give Dogmeat some well-earned scritches before he curled up in the corner of Daisy’s store, content to spend the night with the Ghoul who had a habit of sneaking him treats when she thought Nora wasn't looking.

When Nora finally made her way up to the State House to collect her Ghoulish mayor, the first thing she noticed was that his door was closed. 

(Huh.)

That’s not to say his door was never closed. Whenever he had to buckle down for any intensive mayoral duties, he would stow away in the corners of his space, head down and Mentats stash slowly dwindling, and churn through his work with a single-minded focus. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. Usually, though, he was more than happy to shirk his responsibilities when his friend came by. It made Nora felt appreciated when he gave her his complete attention. It was definitely a bad habit, that she felt comfortable enough to simply disrupt his work whenever she pleased, but she did promise him that she’d swing by and grab him before pursuing her next goal. 

When she lifted up her hand to knock on the door, though, readjusting the pack on her back, she was startled when the door cracked open right before her fist could connect with the aged wood. She blinked, startled momentarily, before assessing the situation in front of her. A woman, Ghoulish features relaxed and smug, came face to face with the Sole Survivor. Nora took a step back to give her space to move through the doorway. 

“Thanks for the tour, Mr. Major,” her deep voice rasped as she moved past Nora. 

“Heh, anytime, sister. Feel free to come on by if ya ever need a hand again,” came his voice from inside the room. "And, 'a course, welcome to the neighborhood." Nora simply stood there, blinking again as the woman made her way down the stairs and out the door with an unsteady gait. Something vile twisted in the Vaultie's stomach and spread up through her chest. Her hand immediately shot up to her neck to wrap her fingers around the wedding band that typically sat between her collarbones. Her fingers only met skin. 

(That’s right. She had taken off Nate’s ring…)

She immediately turned to leave before she did something stupid, aiming to sneak out of view before he could catch sight of her, when she heard his voice again from inside the room. “Well, if it ain’t my favorite Vaultsicle. C’mon in, sunshine. It’s good to see ya up and movin’ again.”

She froze where she was, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides as her mind raced with possibilities of her next move. She could simply turn and walk out- she considered that option the longest. She could start yelling at him, demanding to know what he was doing, and if their trysts meant nothing to him.

(But that was all they were, a little voice in her head echoed. Trysts.)

She chose to stand in the doorway uncomfortably. “Oh, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, uh. Interrupt.”

“Nah, I always got time for you. Ya ready go, or ya wanna stay the night and leave in the morning?” he asked casually. When she finally looked at him, her stomach sank into the floor. He was relaxing on one of the couches, ticorn settled on the table and smoking a cigarette, looking relaxed, features soft. 

(Satiated, the nasty little voice in her head mocked.)

“Actually, I- uh,” she cleared her tightening throat and steeled her resolve. “Just was passing through. Wanted to drop by and say hi, is all. Stock up before I head back out.”

He blew out a cloud of smoke, grinning harshly at her. “Well c'mon in, sister. Ya know I don’t bite-” he bared his teeth, “-hard, at least.” Where his grin usually made her feel delighted and infatuated and warm, she just felt a sense of dread overcoming her. 

“I actually have to- I gotta go, I was supposed to meet up with some settlers by the end of the day,” she lied easily. It was like slipping into an old dress, putting the mask back on, wearing a familiar cool, calm, and collected countenance. The same one that she put on that earned her the title stone cold bitch at work, the same one that she put on when Nate had come back home different after his time in the service, the same one she put on when she looked at the test and saw two little lines. She thought she could finally relax around someone, show her cards and just be for once. She thought that there was something safe and palpable between them, something- just something. 

(Obviously, she thought wrong.)

“Woah, slow down. Ya just got here. Can’t leave me high and dry,” he hummed, sitting up and ashing his cigarette in the dish in front of him on the coffee table, settled amongst the stash of chems he kept well stocked. The longer she stood there, the faster she broke into a cold sweat- but her facade never shifted, never cracked. 

“Sorry, Hancock,” she offered lamely, turning about face to start heading down the stairs. 

“Didn’t take you as a liar, Nora,” he called from behind her. 

(Same, she thought numbly.)

“What do you mean?” She paused at the top step, hand grasping the banister tightly. She glanced up and caught the eye of the Neighborhood Watchman standing guard on the landing. He offered her a grin, as if he knew what was happening. 

(Is it that obvious, she wondered blankly.)

“Ya said we’d be running together the next time you were gonna go wanderin’ the Wasteland.” He sounded closer and when she glanced behind her, she saw him leaning against the doorframe casually. Hat perched atop his head again, he still looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“It’s alright. I don’t want to take you away from your duties.” She tried not to sound so robotic in her response, but it was hard when she could hear her heart cracking under her vault suit. “I got Dogmeat outside. I’m good.”

“Nah. Can’t get ridda me that easy,” he hummed. “Lemme grab my shit and we can get this freakshow on the road.”

Her stomach twisted and she was sure she felt bile rising in the back of her throat. So she stayed silent and let him throw his pack together for a minute, standing stock still at the top of the spiral staircase. 

(Should have just kept Dogmeat, she thought. Dogmeat would never break her heart clean in two.)

“Ready when you are,” he hummed after a few minutes, shotgun in hand and a wide grin on his face. She didn’t say anything, simply turned and started down the stairs. If he noticed, Hancock didn’t say anything. 

It was her numbness, her despair, that put them in the situation they were in now- and, truthfully, made it even more complicated. 

Initially they were making their way through the ruins of the Commonwealth, picking their way through carefully and quietly. It was a great excuse to not talk much, as these were parts unknown to Nora, not yet cleared out by her and her companions. She wasn’t as familiar with the landscape and thought, perhaps, that would provide some sort of distraction for her, something to take her mind off the Ghoul traveling beside her. 

She was wrong.

They were now trapped behind an overturned car, trying to limit their panting as feral after feral clawed their way up from both the ground below and down from the dilapidated buildings surrounding them. They were well and truly fucked. Nora scrambled as quietly as she could to search her pack for any ammo, digging like Dogmeat when he caught a scent. She promptly closed up her pack and put her head in her hands, rubbing her face roughly. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, sitting back and taking deep breaths while staring at the quickly darkening sky. Hancock nudged her with his elbow. In response, she startled, looking at him blankly. He looked back at her with confusion, to which she just looked away stiffly. 

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he began lowly, “but unless ya wanna start lookin’ as handsome as this ugly mug, we gotta find you shelter, and quick.” He motioned up at the clouds, which were beginning to tint a sickly green that matched her Pip-Boy screen. “I’m startin’ to get the itch, and it’s the good kind, ya feel me?”

She held in a groan, looking over her shoulder as she heard the sounds of ferals get louder. “I’m out of ammo,” she murmured, more to herself than him. He still seemed to hear it though, rifling through his own bag quickly. 

He looked up at the side profile of her face with dread. “Sorry, sister. Don't got much left myself.”

She felt around the outside of her pack in the quickly expanding shadow of the clouds and breathed out a staccato breath when her hands closed around smooth wood. The baseball bat Swatter sat comfortably in her palms and she stared at it, mind racing. 

Nora could do a lot of things. She could snipe a bastard from a football field away- thanks to Pop. She could pick a lock with a bobby-pin with one hand behind her back- thanks to Uncle Rick. She could hack a terminal with her eyes closed- thanks to her sister-in-law, Renée. She could make chems and Stimpacks, she could haggle with traders, and sew up wounds and garments alike- thanks to the chemistry course she was required to take in undergrad, the negotiation courses she had to take during grad school, and the bullshit sewing classes all the girls had to take in highschool. 

Her upper body strength was fine, but not that of a professional baseball player. Not enough that she could conceivably maim her way through the biggest pack of ferals she’d ever found herself in. As if hearing her thought process, she felt another gentle touch of an elbow against her shoulder. She startled again, eyes darting to the Ghoul next to her. He frowned at her before holding out a needle connected to two syringes. She furrowed her brow at the offering, frowning back. 

“Psycho,” he said quietly by way of explanation. “Should give ya the boost ya need. I’ve got your back. Did ya see any good cover while we were runnin' our asses off?”

She turned to face straight ahead, avoiding his gaze as she nodded once. “Saw a building across the way. Through the graveyard, of course.”

“Of course,” he deadpanned beside her, reloading his shotgun, Psycho balanced on his knee. “What’s the plan, sunshine?” She flinched at the name. It felt cruel for him to use the term of endearment when it was very obvious to her that he certainly wasn’t endeared to her.

She glanced at the chem, swiped the Psycho, and pulled up her sleeve to reveal her colorful tattoos, feeling light drops of rad-laden rain kissing the revealed skin of her forearm. Her Pip-Boy clicked steadily, her Geiger counter protesting. She paused, pulling the cover off the needle. He noticed her hesitation, turning to her and holding out his hand. She slowly placed the chem back into his grasp, gaze pointedly away from the chem and the Ghoul wielding it. She didn't watch him aim the needle with precision and stick it right into a vein. He injected it quickly, Nora gritting her teeth through the burn of the chem going into her blood stream. He pressed the plunger all the way down before placing the empty syringe on the ground. 

The effect was instantaneous. She launched herself up from her sitting position, rushing out from the side of the car, vision going red. She just started swinging, blood rushing in her ears, and the simmering anger that had been present in her belly since she stepped out of the State House roared into a burning fire. She didn’t even let out grunts of effort as she swung wildly, hearing crack after crack of smooth wood making deadly contact with skulls, ribs, and and rotting tissue alike. She vaguely registered the interspersed sounds of shotgun blasts behind her but she did her best to hang on to that anger- which wasn't particularly difficult- and push forward. 

(He was a big boy, he could figure himself out. God knows he did earlier that the day, her mind hissed.)

She felt gnarled fingers glancing against her armor, felt a light snag here and there, but simply kept pushing through to the building across the graveyard. She made it about halfway to their destination when she started to feel more drops across her hands and face, the panic feeding into the rage as she pushed harder through the herd. She could not die here, of a fucking radstorm of all things. 

Arms and legs pumping harder than ever before, she threw herself at every vague target with more and more force, leaning into the anger and using it as a battering ram to tear through flesh and viscera. Nora swung at a feral to the left of her, missing one grasping at her feet from the ground. Her swing went wide as sharp claws sank into her ankle, pulling her down harshly against the broken concrete in front of the door to safety. She rolled over onto her back and started kicking wildly, snarling as the feral scrambled to get on top of her, jaw snapping and skin sloughing off. She started throwing fists at it, hips bucking and her own teeth nashing in blind rage. Her Swatter had flown out of her hands when she had fallen, so the only defense she had left was her soaking hands.

(Were they red, or was that just the Psycho?)

She heard a crack and a boom in rapid succession, then felt hands wrap under her armpits and around her chest to drag her out from under the now-limp body on top of her, rotted brain matter spraying just above her head. She struggled against the hold desperately, spitting and kicking. If she was going to get brutalized by a bunch of post-apocalyptic zombies, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

She heard her name being called from far away before she was unceremoniously dropped against cool tile. She scrambled into a sitting position, wiping the dampness out of her eyes in time to see the back of a red coat fluttering in the increasing winds, ruined hands closing the door with force and bracing it with a wooden plank across the handles. Two locks clicked, echoing in the expanse of the room. Nora struggled to gulp enough air into her lungs, breathing hard. She felt like she had run two marathons, back to back. 

(Someone give her a fucking medal, she grumped to herself.)

She had enough presence of mind to unbuckle her damn Pip-Boy and throw it off to the side, the Geiger counter throwing a fit. The clicking slowly died down as they stayed covered from the storm outside. Her pack immediately followed the same trajectory into the corner. A gnarled hand, reminiscent of those that were just pulling at her, rested on her neck gently. She bared her teeth and threw a right hook, her hand being caught midair in a tight grip. She let out a snarl as she swung with the left, having a similar outcome. That left her feet, fighting to gain purchase on the tile floor to lash out once more. She was promptly bowled over, back on the cool, polished ground, a weight on her hips and her wrists held firmly above her head. She was panting, eyes fighting to get acclimated to the low light in the building. 

“Hey now, no need for friendly fire,” a low voice rasped next to her ear. She bucked and wiggled under the weight as she slowly lost a little hold on her anger, feeling more and more sapped of her strength the longer she fought. As she slowly settled, breathing hard, her gaze cleared up over the span of minutes.

(Was it hours?)

As she blinked hard against the red haze that was slowly retreating from her vision, she came to staring into the fathomless depths of a familiar face. When he smiled all soft like that it made him look like he was in pain, the muscles and pulled skin puckering in a way that looked uncomfortable, eyes comforting in their darkness. Warmth immediately spread throughout her body, chest heaving but hands going pliant against his hold. 

“There she is. Quite the show, sunshine,” he purred at her, cratered thumbs rubbing the insides of her wrists carefully. She shivered, breath catching, and before she could stop herself, she was leaning in, as if pulled by some sort of gravity. He seemed to follow her lead, lips barely brushing before her face screwed up and she turned her head sharply to the side, his mouth glancing off her cheek. He made some sort of sound and in return she bucked her hips sharply. He cursed as he flew forward, catching himself and releasing her hands, before she wrapped her legs around his waist and flipped their positions. 

He looked up at her with what could have been adoration in his eyes, grasp wrapping around her hips firmly as he leaned up towards her again, beseeching, cock twitching against the seam of her vault suit. She couldn’t help the gentle roll of her hips against his before agitation cut through her mind, pulling her off of him abruptly and staggering away. She looked like a frightened brahmin, eyes wide and lips parted as she panted. Her hand twitched as the red began to cloud her vision again before a frown settled on her lips. She could vaguely make out, in the low light, a darker shade of red than usual covering the faded velvet red of his frock. Her frown deepened and a scowl formed as she squinted at him, watching him sit up, unsteady. Her eyes widened again before she cooled her expression as she realized that it was blood. A lot of it. She looked up from the bloody visage in time to catch a pained look smooth out from his face into one of confusion, looking down at himself at her startled expression. 

“Oh, this? Ain’t mine. Ya look like you could use a wash down, though,” he nodded his head at her, causing her focus to drop down to her vault suit. 

She was positively dripping with gore, scratches and tears across her suit adding to the image of destruction. As the agitation continued to invade her mind, she grunted, scrambling to her feet and pacing the perimeter of the room. It seemed like they were in a broken down clinic with no window access, the only obvious exit being the front door. Nora cleared the two treatment rooms in the back corners in record time, mind fixated on securing the dilapidated building, weapons or no. The ceiling tiles were intermittently missing and there were huge cracks in the tile floor. Chairs were overturned and thick layers of dust and dirt covered most of the surfaces. As she stalked back into the main room, she saw Hancock sitting on one of the ripped couches, smoking a cigarette. 

Her nose twitched at the smell and she hissed at him immediately. “Can you put that damn thing out?”

He raised a would-be brow at her and took a deep pull before putting it out on the bottom of his boot, throwing the butt to the side. He let the cloud of smoke out of his nasal cavities as he hummed at her. “Still feelin’ the Psycho, I take it?”

“I’m fine,” she snarled, putting definitive space between them. 

“And I’m a Brotherhood apologist,” he mused, standing up and cracking his back. “Here’s the problem, sunshine. You’ve been actin’ like I kicked your damn dog since we left Goodneighbor. Ya wanna tell me why that is?” he practically cooed at her, slowly stepping towards her. She took a step back with each advance, scowling at him. At her silence, he continued pressing her. “See, I thought we started gettin’ along, if ya know what I mean. Now you look like ya wouldn’t even spit on me if I caught fire.” Her back hit the wall and she grunted, eyes narrowed and locked on him, hands not-so-subtly reaching for weapons she no longer had on her person. He had this gleam in his eye, a sheen that paired ominously with the twitching of his hands. 

(This isn’t you, she wanted to say. You always get this way during radstorms. Take a breath and calm down. Too bad her mouth was dry and her chest was heaving in poorly concealed rage.)

“Fuck off,” she snapped instead in warning. “Go fuck your neighbors and leave me out of it. I’m not a notch in your goddamn bedpost.”

The muscles in his cheek jumped as a predatory smirk spread across his face. “Heh, so that’s it, huh? Feelin’ the green-eyed monster on your shoulder?” She scoffed as her fists clenched at her sides, body winding tight, ready to lunge. “No love for your Mayor, Nora? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” The Ghoul was a few feet away from her and it wasn’t lost on her, despite the contempt clouding her mind, that those words were an echo of the same ones he purred at Finn before he gutted him in front of her when they first met.

“Back off, Hancock.” She bared her teeth. They stood stark white against the splatter of viscera coating her face. “You made it clear that you aren't my anything. And friends don’t have their fingers shoved up my cunt.”

“And ya begged so nicely for it, too,” he purred at her before she launched herself at him. He braced himself but the two ended up landing hard on the broken tile, rolling around, spitting and swiping. Nora had the presence of mind to disarm him, throwing his beloved knife to the side before he could even think to grab it. 

(Would he have, she wondered. Would he have used it on her?)

Though most of the blood had dried on the pair it was still slippery enough to make grappling that much more difficult, leaving splotches of red behind them as they wrestled. 

(He would have made a slew of suggestive comments if he was himself, she mused somewhere in the back of her mind.)

They snarled in each other’s faces, fingers catching on each other’s clothes. It was hard to say who had the upper hand- the Psycho still racing through her blood definitely gave her an edge, but a Ghoul during a radstorm was more than formidable. 

“C’mon Nora, that all you got?” he taunted her with a rumble as he pushed her shoulders harshly into the solid ground, not giving her an inch as she thrashed. Her hair slowly unraveled with each movement until the length of it was spread under her like some fucked up halo. She tried to reach up and grasp the lapel of his coat, but his firm grip shot to her upper arms, slamming them down against the tile. His grip was definitely going to leave bruises. 

(Good, her brain hummed vaguely.)

“Get off me!” she hissed instead and struggled against him, brain disregarding the feeling of his length firmly poking her stomach. 

“See? You’re all worked up,” he rasped lowly, hand moving to the center of her chest to keep her down as his other hand shot to her now-unrestrained hair, giving a harsh tug. She felt like she was punched in the gut, breathlessly moaning, her hips bucking under him as her eyes shut tight. “Aw, all you need is a good fuck,” he mocked her, grasp firm in her hair. 

“Let me go,” she growled this time, hands reaching up to push at his shoulders as her eyes fluttered open. “I don’t want shit from you.” 

“Heard that one from you before,” he muttered. He gave her hair a firm tug again and she groaned like he actually had stabbed her. He took this momentary opportunity to shove the armor off of her shoulders, uncaring as to where the pieces landed. The moment she regained her bearings, she started thrashing in earnest again, especially as he slid the zipper of her vault suit down, down, down. He had been smart, though, and hooked their legs together to render her bottom half useless, leaving just her shaky arms to try and fend him off. He shoved the shoulders of her suit down her arms, effectively restricting her reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped at him, halfway to feral herself. She fought against his hands, only proving to make it easier for him to shimmy the suit down to around her elbows, fully restraining her. “Get off!” With both her upper and lower extremities bound, he grasped the sides of her face with his rough palms and forced her to look at him. 

“Tell me to stop,” he growled low in his chest. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop, no questions asked.” She could feel his grip shaking against her face and was struck suddenly by the determination in his eyes. She remembered vaguely how difficult it was for him to maintain composure during radstorms, to keep his shit together. He told her once it was like he was outside of his body, watching it pursue base instincts and throw logical thought out the window. 

She just glared up at him defiantly, mouth set in a snarl as she made her decision. “Do your worst,” she growled and spit up at his face. It landed in a glob on his creviced cheek, sliding down slowly against the pull of muscle that formed into a feral grin, delighted. In a flurry of movements, he had her flipped onto her stomach. With her arms still stuck at her side- thanks to the newly stiffened and stained vault suit, the blood having dried into a starch-like substance- her feet slid and scrambled against the floor. She fought to try and get some leverage but the tiles were too large and smooth to give her the resistance she needed to get upright- not to mention that her ankle was throbbing after the swipe the feral outside managed to catch her with. He watched her struggle for only a moment in twisted intrigue before he was on her again, hands roughly sliding her armor on her lower half off and throwing it to the side. 

“Fucking watch it,” she hissed at him, throwing a leg out to try and catch his side. Just because she was as worked up as he seemed to be didn’t mean that she would make it easy for him. He grunted as it made contact, the strike too quick for his distracted brain to catch. He pulled roughly on the torn material of her vault suit from the back, pulling her arms behind her and grasping them tightly with a hand before working the sleeves down and off. She was left with her top half bare save for a dirty bra that looked far too small, the plush of her breasts barely contained. She felt him tug her arms back firmly as she wiggled against him, still hissing and spitting at being manhandled. She couldn’t admit to herself that she was absolutely soaked, though- the grappling and her frustration combining into a heady cocktail that made her hot. Nora heard the rustling of fabric behind her before she felt something wrap around her wrists firmly, effectively binding them. “What the fuck?” she shrieked, thrashing in his hold.

“Just some insurance ya won’t claw my eyes out,” he hummed against her ear, nipping at it sharply. Her hips jumped at the sensation and she tried to turn her head to snap at him, but he was already gone, focus shifting back to pulling her suit down and off her body. It was easier, it seemed, for him to slide the skin tight suit off the rest of the way, his fingers dragging angry lines down her sides all the while. She could practically feel his eyes briefly observing the still-healing skin across her back and abdomen, but the gash seemed to be closed, dermis puckered harshly where it had healed. 

His fingers caught onto her underwear on the way down, yanking it roughly against her thighs and pooling it around her ankles. He pulled off her boots carelessly, as if he had done it a thousand times before, and ripped the suit off of her completely. She shook below him, buzzing at both the cool temperature of the room and the adrenaline coursing through her. Goosebumps broke out across her body and her lack of footwear made her continued attempts at leverage a moot point. 

She heard a crack before the pain came, a grunt erupting from her throat as her ass started burning. “Fuck!” She heard a breathy chuckle, gnarled fingers grasping the fat harshly. 

“Been wantin’ to do this since day-fuckin’-one,” he hummed, groping her and kneading the globes of her ass. “I reckon ya made me an ass man, love.”

His hands retreated just quickly as they had come, a tempting opportunity to relax her muscles abruptly swept away as she heard another sharp sound before the smack exploded across the skin of the other cheek. “Don’t- don’t call me that,” she panted at the pain, tears collecting on her lash line. Two more hits came in rapid succession, spreading out across the curve of her cheeks, before his burning hands smoothed over the stinging skin. Though she initially had tightened her muscles in preparation for the sharp sensation, she quickly realized that staying loose was much more manageable. She began to force herself to relax under his touch before he suddenly gripped her bound wrists and tugged them back harshly, forcing her core muscles to tremble as she lifted her chest up off the floor to ease the pull. 

“Aw, you aren’t my love?” he sneered, pulling her into a kneel, her hips up and back to align with the crotch of his pants as her forehead stayed plastered to the floor. The first roll of his hips against her stung- the cool zipper was rough against her bruised ass, but the scrape of his jeans distracted her from the discomfort. He was being cruel, but she knew she was no saint in this. She felt herself coming down, the fight leaving her slowly but surely. She was agitated, sure, but didn’t feel the need to rip a chunk out of his jugular anymore. It certainly helped that her mind was being flooded with oxytocin, Nora arching and preening under his attentions. 

“Not if you keep fucking around,” she grumbled, breathy. Her face immediately relaxed against the feeling of his hips rolling against her again. 

“No need to be jealous, sunshine,” he emphasized with another harsh smack to her ass, coaxing a weak yelp from her. “Ain’t no one else for me. Ya got me, hook, line, ‘n sinker.”

“Don’t blow smoke,” she hissed before she tapered off into a low groan. “Saw you giving a tour.”

“I think our definitions of tour are a little different, sister,” he hummed, thumb harshly rubbing the irritated skin of her ass. “What’d ya see, huh?”

“Saw her walking out of your State House with a fucking limp, Hancock,” Nora’s breath hitched as the hand that had been emphatically rubbing her cheeks migrated towards her hip, continuing to grope and pull at the fat deliciously. 

“Heh,” he huffed, giving a slow, exaggerated roll of his hips against her. “I’ll admit, we may have gone a little hard on the chems.”

Nora started wriggling in his hold, thighs trembling, tired after straining against the firm rolls of his hips. “I’ve seen what happens during your chem breaks, remember? I’m the one that made you cream your damn pants.”

“And what a chem break that was,” he sighed wistfully, hand continuing to creep towards her pelvis, fingers honing in on her clit. 

She whimpered at the gentle pressure, hips twitching harshly as his fingers followed, the press against her consistent. “John,” Nora hissed, “don’t fuck with me.”

“Ya really wanna talk about another woman while I got ya naked and rubbing 'gainst me like cat in heat?” He started sliding his finger in circles against her nub relentlessly, chasing her sensitive clit. Nora bucked, slipping out of his hold. His fingers roughly dug into her hips to catch her, stopping her from getting too far.

“I’m not fucking around,” she whined, shoulders shimmying against the floor to escape him. Hancock practically growled at her in frustration, a dark undertone rumbling under his raspy voice. It was easy for her to forget that the radstorm still raged outside, that he was just as affected as she had been. Where the Psycho was wearing off, though, the sky still roiled above them like an angry sea, sheets of irradiated rain soaking the building. 

(Oh, now I’m feral, his voice growled, unbidden, in her mind.)

Another handprint made its mark on her ass, her hips twisting in his hold. “John,” Nora hissed again. 

“Just bein’ a good neighbor is all,” he grumbled, his body blanketing hers once more. He let his teeth sink into her shoulder and she grunted, her bound wrists grasping at his shirt, twisting the cloth and tugging him closer behind her. He pulled his teeth out of her, murmuring against her back. “Drifter. Showed her ‘round, gave her some chems. She dozed off for a while after hittin’ the Jet pretty hard in a real weird position, but she looked beat. Let her take her time, gave her some extra Jet, and she left.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I’m still givin’ special tours, just for your eyes only.” Nora harrumphed, cheek pressed to the floor. There was a heavy silence between them as his mouth continued to glance across her shoulders. “We good?” he murmured into her ear, breathing heavy as his hands rubbed up and down the sides of her ribs. “I ain’t fuckin’ around with ya, Nora. You… mean somethin’ to me.”

“John,” she breathed, tightening her grip on his shirt. 

(Was he saying what she thought he was saying?)

Her synapses were already firing away at a breakneck speed to grasp not only the situation she had suddenly found herself in, but now the message he was trying to convey.

“You ain’t gotta tell me anythin’ back. Just wanted to let ya know where I stand,” Hancock huffed, hands beginning to twitch again. “Fuck, Nora-“

“I like you, asshole,” she practically spat, pulling at his ruffled shirt harshly behind her. “A lot.”

She could feel his lips split as he bared his teeth in a grin against her neck. “You’re my kinda freakshow,” he intoned, his weight lifting from her back, suddenly pulling her upper body upright into a kneeling position, her back straight. She inhaled sharply before he nudged her legs apart, widening her stance on the tile. 

She groaned, muscles sore and body aching from her Psycho-induced rage. “Hancock,” Nora whined, wiggling her fingers to try and get more blood flow to her restrained hands. “John, lemme go.”

“You wanna stop?” The Ghoul pressed against her back again, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other coming across her chest, gnarled hand closing around her jaw, turning her face to the side to meet his piercing gaze. “Tell me, Nora.” The room was deathly silent for a moment, her eyes searching his for some sign that he was being untrue. 

“No,” she whispered, “I don’t.” Her stare dropped down to his mouth, her lips parted. 

His expression turned positively feral. “Good. ‘Cause I’m gettin’ hungry.” Her brows furrowed in confusion, eyes sliding back up to settle on his. He leaned forward and gave her a harsh kiss before detaching himself from her. She heard him moving around behind her for a minute and started to shift her weight, hands tugging at the bindings roughly. 

(Wish they were handcuffs, she mused. Could get outta those in a pinch.)

She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard a high pitched squeak of tissue against tile and a sudden pressure between her legs. She looked down sharply into black pools, the sheen from before settled across his gaze. 

(He really did look feral like this, she thought, her heat pulsing. Fucking hot.)

If she craned her neck, she could see his frock, belt, and shirt were gone, sinew and muscle stretched across his shoulders and collarbone. Her hands twitched, longing to reach out for the textured plains of his body, but she was still sufficiently bound. 

(Damn, he’s good at that.)

She felt him pull her down a little further, roughly, forcing her to settle what felt like her entire weight on his face. Her thoughts promptly flew out the window at the first stroke of wet heat exploding across her cunt, his ruined lips pressed firmly against her, his tongue peeking out and licking from hole to clit. She let out a startled sound, pelvis rolling into his mouth, surprised. His hands immediately anchored on the fat and muscle of her thighs, keeping her steady as he immediately began to feast on her. 

“Fuck- fuck- fuck, John,” she moaned, hips jerking harshly into the warmth of his mouth. He licked and sucked and bit, migrating from her heat to the inside of her thighs, marking her up before honing back in on her pussy. He devoured her, slurping and sucking as if it were his last meal. She wondered vaguely if he was trying to eat his way into her heart. Nora whined, writhing atop him. She tried to lean back, grasping for his pants with her bound hands, but a sharp smack to her ass made her buck into his mouth, a gasp dislodging itself from her throat and stopping her in her tracks. “John- fuck, John, please, please,” she continued to chant, grinding down into his mouth as his tongue slid deep into her, the ridge of what was left of his nose rubbing deliciously against her clit. She let out a sharp cry and jerked in his hold, his thumbs rubbing rough circles into her hips. 

Hancock pulled away from her, breathing hard against the wetness that coated her core, pulling a shiver from the Vaultie. His face was glossy with her, his tongue making a show of swiping across his lack of lips. “You gonna keep bein’ a brat?”

“I’m not- fuck!” He smacked her ass again, immediately rubbing the irritated area to prolong the burn. 

“Lemme ask again, sunshine. You gonna keep bein’ a brat?” He bit down hard on her thigh before giving her the option of responding, Nora grunting above him. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” she groaned, continuing her babbling as he dove in again, slurping against her loudly before taking her clit into his mouth and sucking hard. She let out a yell, sinking more of her weight into him before he hummed, and she swore she could feel the vibrations in her soul. “I’m gonna cum-“ she startled herself with the realization, eyes wet as they stared down at him, belatedly noting that his hat was nowhere to be seen. Her hands itched to run over his head, to gently pull at the craters and valleys with her nails. 

“Gimme it, baby,” he hummed, tongue fucking up into her harshly and lack of nose once again rubbing against her nub. “I need it, gimme it all.”

She felt the coil of heat finish building in her core thanks to the rasp of his voice against her, arching into his mouth, pussy rhythmically pulsing and body trembling. She fought to stay upright, hips jerking roughly and eyes rolling back before she finally toppled forward. Her blissed out brain didn’t process that her face was headed straight for the unforgiving tile until she felt a firm grip catch her ribs, making her whine at the pressure against her bruises. She was slowly lowered the rest of the way, breathing heavy as her cheek pressed into the wonderfully cool flooring. 

John almost immediately started wiggling out from under her after she safely lowered to the floor, sliding out the way he entered the space between her thighs. She was able to spread her shaking knees out a little further to help aid his endeavor, though she honestly didn’t feel like it did much. Face down and ass up, she continued to breathe heavily, fingers wiggling again to fight off the tingling sensation that had begun to take hold. She leaned into warm, rough hands that stroked her sore ass, humming pleasantly. Her eyes pulled closed, muscles relaxing and releasing a deep breath from her lungs. Satisfaction thrummed through her body, washing every ache and pain away momentarily, from the bruising of her knees against tile to the soreness that seemed stuck to her tender sides. 

The warm afterglow made everything after that worse.

She let out nothing short of a scream, eyes flying open and back arching upwards, trying to escape the sudden onslaught. “No, no, no- John, no, don’t- I can’t, I can’t,” she cried, wrists fighting their bindings with a renewed sense of urgency. Her feet scrambled for purchase again, but she couldn’t go far with the iron grip on her ass, spreading her cheeks. Hancock’s face was completely buried in her cunt, eating her with a vigor that she had never experienced. His tongue rocked from clit to opening steadily, drool dripping out of his open mouth. Every time she bucked against or away from him, he kept his face glued to her, fingers digging in and opening her further. 

Nora felt like she was falling apart at the seams. She couldn’t get her footing, couldn’t catch her breath. Her second orgasm was hurtling at her at a speed she couldn’t comprehend. She shimmied her shoulders to try and inch away once more, but all he did was smack her ass again and drag his tongue over the irritated skin. That wasn’t even a respite, though, as he dove right back into her, slurping loudly and latching on to her clit at a new angle, causing her to screech as she fell off that cliff again, undulating against his tongue as tears fell from her eyes, unbidden. 

Her body shook as his mouth let out a little pop! once he released her nub. She could feel how soaked she was, a mixture of his spit and her release dripping down her thighs. She panted, unable to slow her breathing, and let out pathetic little whines as she felt his hands gently rubbing her lower back, ass, and thighs, as if soothing her. She felt completely debauched, sweat and blood plastering her loose hair to her forehead. She felt his hands slide up carefully and undo the binding around her wrists. Her arms fell limply to the sides, gravity aiding in the return of blood flow. His fingers worked her wrists and hands steadily from behind, helping with the pins and needles, before carefully pulling back. 

She was taking some deep, calming breaths as she felt him kissing the bruises forming on her ass, resting his cheek on her and letting his hands run along the inside of her thighs. She shivered but didn’t protest, relaxing into him. The moment she felt his careful touch sliding across her soaked lips, her body froze- to say she stopped breathing would be an understatement. 

(Maybe he’s just cleaning up or something, she lied to herself. Maybe, maybe, maybe…)

As two fingers entered her, she let out a sound that she had never heard herself make before. Her body was traitorous, though- greedy. Nora’s hips immediately rocked into his hand, wet heat clenching down on his fingers, hard. She sucked him in like his digits were her missing piece, and she certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to unpack that notion. 

“One more, gimme one more, c’mon love.” She felt like he was muttering more to her core than her before his tongue pressed carefully above the opening of her cunt, gently massaging the delicate skin between her pussy and her ass. 

“John,” she moaned loudly, hands still limp at her sides, weak. She was at his mercy, eyes half lidded and cheeks wet with tears, breathing shallow with sweat covering every inch of her. “John.” His fingers slowly sped up, her hips gently rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts. He pressed delicate kisses to her perineum before passing a gentle lick to her tight hole. She let out a sharp gasp, eyes flying open and hips bucking wildly into his mouth. It seemed like that was all the green light he needed, lips pressing firmly over her asshole as his tongue started a full out assault on her. Every time she’d move her hips this way or that, she’d either be leaning into his unforgiving fingers, or leaning into his unforgiving mouth. Tears streamed down her face in overstimulation as his fingers crooked inside of her, rubbing against a spongy spot that had her eyes crossing. 

“Fuck, just needed someone to eat your ass, huh? That’s all you needed all along? I’ll take care of ya, baby,” he rasped against her puckered hole, tongue lolling out to swipe against her. 

Nora let out tremendous sobs that shook her body, gasping and crying under his ministrations. She didn’t know if she never wanted it to end or if she wanted it to end immediately. A fog had settled over her brain, words escaping her completely. The only thing she could even perceive was the pleasure that rocked through her system, the ebb and flow of the pressure against her cunt and ass. She could vaguely hear the squelches her pussy produced as his fingers picked up speed to piston into her, hitting her deep with a crook of his fingers and massaging the spot that made her see stars. His mouth similarly never rested, covering her crack with drool and spit, wet sounds from his mouth joining the sounds of her cunt and her low, continuous sobs. 

Before John, Nora had never squirted with a partner. She had never felt the increase of pressure low in her belly, the sudden urge to pee, the tingling in her toes. She knew what it was and had done it herself on few occasions, but had experienced it for the first time during her last tryst with the Ghoul currently eating her ass like it was what he was born to do. It was no big deal, not to her at least, and he seemed unmoved by the occurrence as well. This time, though, felt more intense. As he crooked his fingers one more time and breached her ass with his tongue, her lungs seized up. She stopped breathing as it rushed through her, soaking the floor and his arm, joining the splatter of blood on his pants. Her pelvis rocked violently and, as he released her, her cunt pulsed, trying to keep his fingers nice and deep. Hancock helped her ride it out, his fingers slowly and carefully following each buck of her hips. She massaged his digits for another few seconds before he slowly withdrew, the hand covered in her slick immediately flying up to his mouth to quickly lick away whatever her could with a shaky breath. He handled her delicately, then, gently leading her hips to the ground. He tenderly brushed the hair out of her bloody face, inspecting her expression. 

“Nora, baby, you gotta breathe for me,” he cooed, fingers softly running up and down her back with his free- and comparably dry- hand. “C’mon, you got it.”

Her chest remained still, lips parted and body shaking as she continued to ride out her third orgasm. He lightly tapped her cheek with his open palm once, twice, and on the third she took a shuddering gasp, muscles twitching. His hand never stopped stroking her spine, grounding her while she came down from outer space. Tears continued to roll down her face as she let out sobs, slowly getting louder until they echoed in the space. John settled on the ground next to her, thigh close enough to her to make it easy for Nora to receive touch if she needed it. 

And need it she did. Her hand weakly curled around his pants and he shifted close enough to press his leg against her side. His hand ran up her back to gently rub her head, fingers soft against her despite their bumps and dips. 

“Ya did great, sunshine. So proud ‘a you, doin’ all that for me. Couldn’t ’a done it better. Such a good girl,” he rasped quietly, voice thick, slurred. “How’re ya doin’, Nora? You okay?” She let out a trembling breath as her sobs died down slowly, sniffling loudly and hiccuping. She eventually nodded once, burying her face in the side of his damp thigh. They sat there quietly for a moment before he gently brushed her cheek. “I gotta get ya some water, love. You gonna be okay?”

Her fingers tightened on his thigh in response. She sniffled sharply again, face still pressed against him. “You coming back?” she croaked. 

“Heh, yeah, baby. Just gotta grab ya some stuff.” He eased her head and hand off of his leg despite seeming to have to fight himself to not stay pressed against her, standing up with a short groan. He shuffled over to grab the packs that they had dropped next to the door after they’d entered, going straight into the pocket of her bag that he knew held food and drink. He dug through a bit before his hand brushed a can of purified water. He grasped it tight and gathered his coat from the floor, hurrying back over, kneeling in front of the Sole Survivor. “Gotta turn you over, Nora. Ya ready?” She let out a whine of protest before he gently lifted up her face by her chin, leaning down to press his ruined mouth to her cheek. She looked up at him, dazed, tear tracks running through the blood that had stained her skin. “C’mon, sunshine. For me?” he hummed quietly, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “Wanna see that pretty face.”

“M’kay,” she breathed, and with shaky hands and a lot of help from her companion, she rolled over to her back. He sat down behind her, legs spread to surround the woman shaking in his lap. Immediately, he laid his frock over her and helped lift her shoulders up so she could recline back into his naked chest. 

“Good job. Now ya gotta drink somethin’. We got no booze, so I guess water will hafta do,” he chuckled, popping open the can and pressing it gently to her lips. Those same lips trembled as they pursed around the lip of the aluminum, taking a slow sip. She managed one more at his behest before turning her face away from it, nudging him to put it down next to them. They sat quietly for an unknown amount of time, the lack of windows doing them no favors. He kept his touch on her light and his coat wrapped around her tight. She had reached up and grabbed his hand, sitting quietly while her soul returned to her body. 

“John,” she breathed finally, groggy. She tilted her head back to look at him. “‘M sorry.”

“For what, love?” He squeezed her hand. 

“Going Psycho on you.” She let out a scratchy giggle. He chuckled under her, pressing a kiss against her head. 

“Either the best idea I’ve ever had, or the worst,” he hummed. “That was real intense, sister. Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “I’m alright. I just- thank you.” He made a confused noise, his fingers digging into the frock around her, pulling her tight against his creviced and textured chest. “For putting up with me," she clarified quietly. He just stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to figure her out. 

“Words don't begin to do it justice. You- you're the best thing I got,” he muttered, pressing his face into her hair. They were silent as they sat in his confession. 

"I- you-" She was sure he could feel the burning of her cheeks radiating against the ruined plains of his body. “We have to talk about this in the morning,” Nora let out a content sigh, her fingers running up the soaked fabric of his pants that covered his thigh. 

“Prolly right,” he agreed. 

“There’s a mattress in one of the exam rooms,” she started. “Wanna get some rest?”

“Ya think you can walk?” She peered up at him, then looked down at her legs. 

“Nope,” she wiggled her toes in her socks. “Need a little longer.”

“Love, I got all the time in the world.”

Chapter Text

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Hancock’s voice rasped in her ear. Nora shivered and cuddled closer to his chest, huddled under his frock hiding her face in the craters of his neck. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and settling his chin on her head.

“Mornin’,” she mumbled back into his ruined skin. He was certain he’d have gotten goosebumps if he could. “You sleep alright?”

“Not too shabby, all things considered. How ‘bout you?” He tightened his grip around her waist, fingers tracing the band of her panties lazily. She squirmed, smiling at the sensation, trying to shift her hips away while keeping her top half glued to his.

(This felt awfully… domestic. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. It was different, sure. But it didn’t feel bad. No, he thought, almost lecherously. Not bad at all.)

“Pretty good, thanks to my personal heater. And the fact all my muscles were jelly after taking that Psycho. And the relentless orgasms were just overkill,” she teased, her own fingers starting to brush over his chest and protruding collarbone. Sensations on his skin were muted but he swore that he could feel the tickle of her fingertips and the gentle scrape of her short nails. Everywhere she touched felt like it was burning him from the outside in. He had hoped some of his infatuation would ease into a more manageable simmer after getting his fill of her, but if anything, it made him hungrier- for her touch, her affection, her.

“Noted for next time,” he hummed back. “No orgasms for Nora.”

“Exactly, now you’re getting it.” A warm silence settled in the space, the two simply soaking in each other’s company. “So,” Nora started, gently pulling away. He begrudgingly released her but swallowed down his displeasure as his coat fell from around her. She had shimmied out of her bra before sleep, complaining quietly that the band was too tight for her to get comfortable.

(Well, damn, he had belatedly realized at the time. So pussywhipped already that he couldn’t have even been bothered to take her bra off in the first place.)

He had wiped the blood from her face with some of the remainder of purified water, scrubbing her cheeks and forehead until they were irritated and warm. They had made out for a long, long time after that. He could still practically feel the warmth from her cheeks and chest, the vulnerability in her gaze as she brushed his cheek with what couldn’t have been reverence. No, not for him. He didn’t deserve that. People didn’t look at him with a gentle adoration like that- they looked at him like the chem-addicted, violence-prone Ghoul from the roughest neighborhood in the Commonwealth.

(He didn’t deserve that kindness, he thought again. Especially not from her.)

They both sat up, facing each other, Nora grunting at the pressure against her sore ass. Now her tits sat in front of him, exposed to the cool air and responding accordingly, nipples stiffening into peaks. He felt his gaze lock onto her chest, his tongue running over his ruined lips.

(Gorgeous tits and a gorgeous ass? How’d he land someone like her?)

She snapped her fingers and his eyes shot up to hers for a moment before drifting back down to her bust. She leaned forward and placed her palms on his cheeks, gently lifting his gaze to her face with a chuckle. He offered her what felt like a silly smile, not even pretending to feel ashamed at his distraction.

“You keep that up and I’ll think you just put up with me for my tits,” Nora purred, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, following the divots and craters they encountered seamlessly.

“Can’t put a gorgeous pair in front ‘a me and expect me to focus on anythin’ else, sister,” Hancock hummed, reaching out for her chest. He vaguely wondered if he could describe the object of his immediate desire in a more comprehensive manner, but the only word that kept coming to his mind was gorgeous. Nora was just the definition of the word to him.

(She was all his, he thought with a start. Or, she could be. He’d been nipping at her heels for so long now that he’d take any crumb she’d be gracious enough to give him.)

She simply snorted at him as his ruined hand cupped the weight of her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze idly, his mind elsewhere. His other hand came up to mirror his interest on her other tit, thumbs brushing over her nipples. He couldn’t be sure but her chest looked- bigger?- than usual.

(May just be the shitty bra, he wondered to himself. Not that he was complaining.)

She shivered again, whining and leaning into his hands, her short nails biting into the ruined skin of his face. “We- we need to talk, John.” She tried to maintain a firm tone, but her voice was breathy and her eyes were starting to glaze over, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

“We’ll talk,” he promised lightly, though not so distracted to stop him from turning his face in her hands and kissing her palm.

(When did he become such a romantic?)

“Now.” She tried to wrinkle her nose at him, but her face was otherwise lax and her cheeks were warm. He gave her tits one more squeeze before reluctantly releasing them, her own grasp falling from his face. They peered at each other for a second, eyes locked and searching. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for- maybe confirmation that she wouldn’t hate him for the night before. But whatever Nora was appraising him for, she seemed to find it. She settled her hands in her lap, immediately starting to push back her cuticles. “So… uh,” she murmured, eyes on the sliver of mattress between them. “I’m not- I’m not great at this,” Nora smiled weakly, looking up at him.

Hancock let out a rough chuckle, leaning back as casually as he could manage. “You? At a loss for words? Someone tell Piper, that’s a front-page story,” he teased. On the inside, he was sweating bullets. His hands twitched for something that would take the edge off, but he figured it was the wrong time to go rooting around for chems in the pockets of his frock, which was settled neatly in her lap. Similarly, it felt cheap to turn his back on her to look for his pack of cigarettes that he’d dipped into the night before after sucking her soul out of her body through her pussy. He couldn’t help but swipe his tongue over his ruined lips again and hold back a hum, faintly tasting her still. He couldn’t be sure, but he swore that every drop of her ended up on or in him, seeping under his destroyed dermis and making a home right under his skin. What he wouldn’t give to bury himself right back into the hot clutch of her and die happy. His thoughts started to trail back to the noises she made, how responsive she was to his touch, how she was so pretty writhing under him, above him, in front of him-

Nora huffed at him before continuing, pulling him abruptly out of his lustful reverie. “You’re very important to me- and- you’re my best friend. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you,” she said haltingly, hands migrating down to his coat and slowly clenching and unclenching her fists in the worn material. He swallowed harshly as she was looking away. It felt like there was a but coming.

“But.” Nora paused. Hancock held back a wince and braced himself, jaw clenched in preparation for a vehement refusal of his affections. “I don’t know how- I mean, I don’t know what the process is now or anything- or even if there is a process-“ Despite feeling like the ground was about to open up and swallow him whole, he reached a cratered, textured hand out and gently placed it on one of her clenched fists. She peered up at him with wet eyes, worrying her bottom lip.

“You don’t gotta go easy on me, sunshine. Just say what ya gotta say.” She took a deep breath in.

“I want to court you.”

“Huh?” The noise that erupted from his chest sounded like he was gut punched.

“Don’t laugh,” she murmured, seeming to take his surprise as something more derisive. “I don’t know if that’s even a concept anymore,” she pushed on, clinging to her momentary bravery in a sea of obvious discomfort. “I don’t know if people are mainly monogamous, or if you even want to be. I don’t know what the process is to show my intentions, or if there even is one. I’m out of my depth here,” Nora smiled weakly at him. “And I feel- well. I feel bad. You’ve already been so gracious to be my trip sitter, welcome me into your town and companionship- and now I’m leaning on you to show me what to do in this situation, too.

“So I guess- uh, I guess I’m asking if you’d, um. If you’d be interested in being with me? Exclusively? To see if- well, maybe this could be- if we could be together? Go steady?” She was rambling and stuttering, yet somehow he felt like he was the one struggling to string two thoughts together. His eyes searched hers intensely, his face neutral as his gaze inspected each inch of her expression. He was silent for a few long moments and he could see her starting to get nervous. Well, more nervous. The hand that had rested over her clenched fist moved up to her chin, wrapping around the bottom of her jaw. He pulled her forward gently and she leaned into his touch, their eyes locked.

“Thought I made myself clear last night, Nora,” he rasped as their breath mingled. She let out a confused noise before he tugged her closer and tenderly pressed his lack of lips to her dry ones. This was a new kiss for Hancock, which felt odd and exhilarating at the same time- there weren’t many things that he could consider new to him where sex was concerned.

(No, that ain’t right, his mind buzzed. This ain’t just sex. May have been about her body for the first ten minutes when they initially met- after that, it was just her. All of her enticed him, called his fucked up soul to hers.)

He was utterly fucked, and maybe it was the fact their lips were locked and his heart was beating out of his chest, but he suddenly didn’t really care about being perceived as anything other than a lovesick puppy. He felt like he just emptied a canister of Jet into his lungs, what with how time slowed around them. His tongue brushed her bottom lip before he felt her own meet him halfway, the slow push and pull of them spreading warmth through his chest and into his stomach. They made out for a few minutes, drinking each other in. Though he hadn’t responded verbally, Nora seemed to just melt into him, her arms sliding around his neck to bring him closer. His hands released her jaw and sunk to her hips to pull her into his lap. The movement made them separate and Hancock suddenly didn’t feel as bad about catching his breath when he noticed her was struggling, too, choking on a whine at the scrape of her ass against his pants.

“You’re it for me, sunshine. And if ya wanna wake up every morning to this ugly mug, I’ll question your decision makin’, but I’ll never say no.” He squeezed her hips. “And hey, y’know, I’ve never been courted before. Gonna wine ‘n dine me?” She bit her lip again, but a smile spread like wildfire across her lips.

“If that’s what you want,” she murmured, pressing another quick kiss to his ruined lips. He chased her as she pulled back, though, letting out a huff when she giggled at him. “But you’re alright with this? I don’t share very well.”

“Heh. When it comes to you, I don’t think I do either,” Hancock hummed, one of his gnarled hands reaching up to brush loose strands of hair out of her face before cupping her cheek. He was sure they could explore his more exhibitionist tendencies later, but truly sharing her with someone else just felt cheap.

(Other than that one dream where there were three of him and one of her-)

He never had any issues admitting his more depraved inclinations, and this was no different. The thoughts tumbled, one after the other in his mind. He wanted to be greedy with her. Her time, her affections, her violence. He wanted her. More than that, though, he realized he wanted her to want him. He struggled with the thought for a moment. Did he want to own her attention and passion? Did he want to possess her? And with a jolt he realized-

(He wanted her to own him- consume him until there was nothing left. The realization shot a jolt of electricity up his spine and made his cock twitch. Wanted her to put her arm around his waist and show him off, to call him hers and keep him by her side. And he would give her a hundred reasons to stay, to not skip out on him.)

“Cool,” she offered lamely, unknowingly pulling him back to the present with a chuckle as he felt her face heat up under his gnarled fingers. “To be honest, I think I unconsciously started the process right when we met,” Nora continued. The Ghoul raised a would-be brow in amusement.

“That right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, we’d walk for hours and talk on the road. I would give you gifts- chems and weapons I thought you’d like. I’d make us meals and we would even cuddle.”

“How improper,” he purred at her.

She let out a bark of a laugh, bobbing her head in a nod. “You’d be surprised at how proper society deemed what was acceptable and what wasn’t.”

“Thought you guys were rebels,” Hancock teased in a rasp. “Don’t sound like trouble-makin’ behavior if you were followin’ all these rules.”

Nora hummed as her laughter tapered off, “You know how it is- sometimes you gotta give an inch to take a mile.” He really didn’t understand what she was getting at. She must have caught the sudden confusion in his face as she clarified, “We had to pick our battles. You wanna to protest the War? Sure. You’ll be a Commie but hey, that’s on you if your neighbors wanna break your windows. God knows I was already on the outs because of my client list. But you wanna go steady with someone? You better follow the rules.” She offered him a sardonic smile. “Though I guess nothing in this situation could be considered traditional. And the concept of a woman courting someone would have been absolutely unheard of.” That pulled his attention.

“What about me, then?” he hummed lazily as his hand drifted back down to her hips. He repositioned her gently in his lap, mindful of her aching ass.

“What about you?” she murmured, leaning herself firmly against him. His cock twitched under her at the feeling of her bust against his chest, nipples hard at the scrape of his ruined skin against her.

“Do I get to court you, too?” he teased, hands migrating down to rest on her ass. She laughed and pressed her forehead against his.

“Do you wanna?” she asked coyly, her own hands sliding down his neck, fingers catching on the stretched muscle and sinew that painted the plains of his body.

“Sure,” he mused as he gave her cheeks a gentle squeeze, soaking in the quiet whine she let out at his irritation of tender skin. He was impressed with himself, keeping his tone even and cool. God, he had it bad. “Need to make my intentions clear.”

“I think I can feel your intentions now,” she purred, one of her hands reaching down to cup him through his pants. He grunted as his hips canted up into her. “And besides, you’ve been letting me have all the fun. I think it’s your turn.”

“Oh sunshine,” he practically growled at her. “I’ve been having plenty of fun.” He brushed his cheek against hers as he leaned down to start mouthing at the skin of her neck. “In fact, I think it may be time for my breakfast-“

“No.”

“Huh?” He pulled back immediately, confusion painted on his face, plain as day. Her firm tone was at odds with the sickeningly sweet smile she offered him. He barely held back a shiver.

“I think it’s your turn to feel good, don’t you?” she repeated with a hum, rubbing the outline of his cock that pressed against her hand slowly but firmly. He choked on a groan.

“You don’t gotta do anything ya don’t wanna-“

“John,” she asserted. She had been calling him by his first name off and on for a while now, and though it truly wasn’t anything new in their dynamic, the thrill it sent through him was enough to make him warm. She was firm but kind, and his dick twitched to full attention.

(Definitely a mommy kink, he thought idly.)

“You’ll help me, though, right?” she continued.

“With what?”

“I’ve never been with a Ghoul before,” she explained. “I’m gonna need your help. You’ll have to tell me what works and what doesn’t, okay? I want to make sure this is as good for you as it will be for me.” He let out a rough, dark laugh.

“Sister, I think you’ve got it twisted.”

“John, I’ve been dreaming about having your cock in my mouth since week one.”

He blinked at her before offering her a predatory grin. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

She offered him a perverse twist on a bashful look. “You’re very attractive.”

“You need your vision checked, love?”

“Seems like one of us does,” she shot back, nose wrinkled. “It also seems like you’re just fishing for more compliments.” He rasped out another laugh and squeezed her ass harshly. She whined, resting her hands on his shoulders and rolling her hips into his to escape his firm grasp against her tender skin. Her hand slapped at his chest with a huff.

“First thing’s first. You need Rad-X. Ya like to spit or swallow, sunshine?” Her face was hot as she abruptly pulled back to look into his eyes.

“Uh?” He seemed delighted by her sudden demure disposition.

“Changes how much you need, is all.”

“Does it matter that much? Won’t I inherently ingest some anyway? Pre-cum and all that.”

“Sure. But that’s why I’m askin’. If ya spit, you’ll only need one. If ya swallow…” he grinned at her. “You’ll need at least two.”

“At least,” she deadpanned. “You Ghouls have no refractory period or something?”

“Or somethin’,” he hummed, pressing his face into her cheek. “Maybe I’m just a skilled lover.” She pulled back to shoot him an incredulous look.

“You anticipating some sort of sex-marathon here? ‘Cause I don’t think I’ll make it through the day if you are,” she asked flatly. He barked a laugh and shoved his face back into her cheek, making her giggle and try to lean back. She just managed to push the globes of her ass further into his hands, her laughter turning airy and tapering off into a groan.

“Love, I ate you up, down, and sideways. I’ve been rock hard for hours. I’ll take what I can get. Marathon or not.”

“Makes sense,” she groused. “After all, seems like all the blood in your body has vacated your brain.” He chuckled and snapped his teeth at her cheek, the brush of his canine against her soft skin pulling a shiver from her.

“You’re right,” he squeezed harshly and she bucked her hips. “Practically feral now, ya feel me?”

“I feel you alright,” she snipped.

“Oh, is that it?” he groaned into her. “You get off a few times and ya get all bratty again?” She nodded definitively.

“Mhm, exactly. It’s practically your fault that I’m like this.”

“Guess I gotta keep that mouth occupied, huh? Make ya mind your manners.” They had been like this from early on; the banter was always easy, poking and prodding at each other warmly. As time had gone on, their ribbing had taken on more suggestive tones and innuendo. Now it was like the floodgates had opened and he hoped she felt as comfortable as he did. He had a feeling she might.

(Is this what he was missing, he wondered. Was it really this easy?)

He squeezed her ass suddenly, hard, and she let out a high-pitched whine, trying to wiggle away. “John,” she admonished weakly.

“Ya need a Stimpack?” he murmured into her soft skin, licking up her neck. She shivered as goosebumps spread across her body and shook her head.

“I like it,” she nearly whispered, bashful. How she could be both sultry and shy was new to him. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

(And he never would again, he thought fondly. His Nora, out of time itself.)

She started trying to get up from his lap but he held a firm grip on her, keeping her anchored. “I gotta get off,” Nora protested. “Let me go get the RadX.”

“Someone’s gonna get off, alright,” he purred into her neck, teeth worrying the skin and leaving a rich bruise. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers falling into place in the craters of his skin almost perfectly.

(As if he was built for her, he mused.)

One of his hands started tracing the band of her panties again, slowly sliding under the front of the scrap of cloth between them. His fingers wandered down to her mound, splitting in a V to spread her lips. She was practically soaking.

“Don’t,” Nora whined. “This is supposed to be for you.”

“Oh, this is definitely for me,” he growled, tongue slowly sliding up the column of her neck again. She made no move to pull away from his clever hands, nails digging into his chest, practically daring him to try and pull her off. He wrapped an arm around her back and cradled the back of her neck as he slowly laid her down against the mattress. She hissed as her ass hit the unforgiving pad, but rolled her hips into his hand anyways. His fingers slowly slid against her opening, his middle finger gently breaching her heat. Nora continued her little whines as he teased her, keeping only the tip of his finger in her as his thumb reached up to gently brush against her clit. She jolted at the caress, groaning as all of the air escaped from her lungs. She kept a firm grasp on his naked shoulders, even when his mouth started to move south. He left a trail of bites and bruises in his wake, leading down to one of her breasts. She squeezed his shoulders and he looked up at her, tongue out to catch a nipple.

“Sen-sensitive,” she stuttered, loosening her grip. He grinned at her, predatory.

“You’re makin’ it too easy for me, sunshine, tellin’ me all your secrets. Gonna let me know how ya like your coffee, too?” His voice sounded painful, his vocal cords scraping together his words in a dark, almost feral inflection. He knew, the bastard, that when he talked all low like that- practically demonic, his growl a reflection of his violent inclinations- she would unconsciously shiver, pupils blowing up before his very eyes.

(What a freak, he mentally cooed to himself, immensely pleased. His little freak.)

“Two creams, two suga- ah!” she yelped as his mouth suddenly closed around a stiff peak, sucking harshly and running his tongue in circles around the bud. She arched her back into his mouth, his finger sliding deeper into her cunt at the movement. Her heat practically burned his skin, clenching on the intrusion to pull him deeper. He groaned against her and started pumping into her slowly, adding another finger as he sucked on her tit, hard.

(She's tight, he considered lowly. Too tight, if the subtle pinch of her brow was anything to go by. Gonna need to work her open, get her nice and lax for him. He'd be damned if he didn't make this just as good for her as he knew it would be for him. All hot and tight and wet and pretty and his-)

As his teeth grazed her nipple, Nora hissed and sounded panicked. “Wait, wait, wait-!” He was about to pull away when a rush of liquid invaded his mouth, soaking his tongue. He swallowed it down easily, the sweetness coating his mouth. He released her breast with a pop!, the ridges of where his eyebrows should be, raised. She was panting beneath him, cheeks and chest burning. “Sorry- sorry, I uh- I forgot that I’m still- I should’ve told you I’m still lactating, uh- fuck, I’m sorry-“

“Not gonna lie, love. This is definitely a first for me,” he licked his ruined lips, then bared his teeth. "Think I dig it, but I think I’ll need another taste…” With that, he latched on to her other breast, sucking and biting and licking relentlessly. She shrieked and rolled her hips into his palm roughly despite struggling in his grasp. Another gush of milk flooded his mouth and he drank it down dutifully, pulling off of her breast and laving over the bud with his wet tongue. She groaned low, walls contracting harshly around his finger and hips rolling, trying to get his digits deeper, searching for fullness and friction. He grinned at her and slowly pulled his hand away from her heat, fingers glossy. They immediately went to his mouth, the tang an interesting chaser to the uniquely sweet taste of her milk. She was panting under him, dazed, as if she had just cum.

(She wasn’t kidding, he hummed to himself. She really was sensitive.)

He pulled away carefully, leaving her pliant on the mattress as he made his way over to their packs. He had to dig a little through her medicinal pouch but eventually grabbed the bottle of RadX and a bag of RadAway.

“Why?” Nora whined from the same position he had left her in.

“Why what, baby?”

“Why are you edging me?”

He near scoffed, “C’mon now, Nora. Y’know damned well that if I was edgin’ you, you’d know.” He stood over her supine form. “Is that what ya want, love? You want me to edge ya?”

“No,” she whined again, nipples puffy and irritated in the low light, shining with his spit and a few escaped drops. Her underwear had a dark patch at the front of it and she already looked debauched. “I wanna suck your dick.”

“You gonna say please?” he cooed at her, dropping to his knees beside her on the mattress.

“Please?” she breathed, eyes locking with his. He shook his head with a chuckle, placing the RadAway next to the mattress and shaking the bottle of RadX.

“Don’t you worry, baby. You can have your fill after ya take this.” He popped open the top, then paused. “You never answered my question.”

“Which would be…?”

“Spit or swallow,” he growled, his eyes glinting in the low light. He almost looked threatening. It made her shiver again in delight.

“Swallow,” she whispered. “Definitely swallow.”

He tipped the bottle over into his palm and poured out two little capsules. She obediently opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out.

“Y’alright dry swallowin’?” he asked lightly. She nodded her head emphatically and stuck her tongue out further. “Feelin’ a little excited there?” He placed the two capsules on her tongue, her lips closing around his gnarled fingers. She swallowed and maintained eye contact, her throat working his digits further into her mouth and towards her throat. He slid his free hand under her jaw, angling her head up to keep their eyes locked. They stayed there for a moment, frozen. He was sure she could taste the remnants of her arousal on the whorls of his fingers. He slowly pulled his digits out of her mouth, dragging the pads down her tongue. She swallowed loudly again, gaze still meeting his. Everything with her felt intimate. Like this was his first time again and he was trying to tune into her body, see what made her tick- how he could pull the most pleasure from his partner. The oral fixation was duly noted, though.

“Ground rules.” He kept her jaw in his grip. “Ya say stop, we stop. End of.”

“I tap on your thigh three times if I need air,” she responded with a small nod.

“Constant check-ins.” His thumb smoothed along her cheek slowly. “How deep ya thinkin’?”

Her lashes fluttered against his touch. “Deep.”

(Yeah, he purred to himself. Definite oral fixation. He was one lucky bastard.)

He hummed at her. “You’re full ’a surprises, sister. Anythin’ else?”

“I’ll tell you if I think of anything,” she murmured. “Gonna take it slow, though. It’s been a minute.”

“200 years ‘s more than a minute.”

“Uh- it was. Um. A little longer than that.”

“That so?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, bashful, cheeks warm. “We weren’t very… active. In our later years together. And- uh- we definitely didn’t have sex much outside of, uh. Shaun’s conception.” She made a face for only a fleeting moment as she muttered, "Hard to get wet when your partner may or may not be a war criminal."

“We’ll take it slow,” he echoed her sentiment after a moment, squeezing her jaw carefully as an indication that he heard her- both her words and the sentiments behind them, their true meaning. That this was an immense sign of her trust and comfort with him and in him. He wouldn't take a millisecond of it for granted. “Don’t you worry, sunshine. Remember, you don’t gotta do anythin’ ya don’t wanna.”

“I want to,” she stressed. “I really want to.”

He grinned down at her, gaze dark. “Makes two of us, then.” He squeezed her jaw lightly once more and removed his hand to stand over her and start working on his pants. He reached down to untie his flag, only remembering that he had used it just the night before to restrain the woman in front of him. His fingers instead scraped against the button of his pants, but paused as he got to his zipper, staring down at his hands. He wouldn’t consider himself ashamed of his body. Hell, indecent exposure was a major kink of his. But this wasn’t some fling, wasn’t in the comfort of Goodneighbor, wasn’t some chem-induced tryst. This was Nora. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up. Hancock let out a breath before dropping his hands from his pants.

“Listen, Nora, just wanted to let ya know that I’m not gonna look like any smoothskin- fuck!”

Nora had immediately taken up the mantle of disrobing him, impatiently pulling down his zipper and shimmying his waistband down his skinny hips before dropping them to the ground to pool around his ankles. She shifted onto her knees and leaned in, swiping her warm tongue up the length of him, humming and seemingly content as her mouth closed around the leaky head of his cock. His grip automatically flew to her loose hair, grasping onto her desperately. She groaned lowly at the sensation, which in turn shot through his dick and straight up his spine, causing his hips to cant into the heat of her mouth. She laved her tongue over the tip of him, slowly and smoothly, leaning forward to grasp onto his thighs for stability. His grip on her hair gentled but he maintained a light hold, letting out a pleased sigh. He watched her explore, his cock twitching between her soft lips as he took in the sight before him. She periodically pulled off of his length to pepper his thighs and pelvis with kisses, teeth grazing the valleys of his skin. Her lips glanced over his balls and he hissed at her, tightening his grip again. She took a sharp breath at the tension and looked up at him with big eyes, where he caught a twinkle of mischief. His mouth twitched to fight a grin. He knew that look.

"Doin' good, Nora," he praised. "Sure you've never sucked Ghoul dick before?" She kept her eyes on his face as she leaned down and slowly took a ball into her mouth, tongue flicking the sack in response. He hissed again, pulling at her hair. Nora took more into her mouth and groaned, suckling softly at the rough skin, looking utterly pleased with herself as his stiff cock rested on her face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she looked like she could die happy there. Her opposite hand slid up his thigh to gently handle his other ball, fingers carefully massaging the rest of his sack, rolling his still-mildly-sensitive testicles. His head tipped back as he let out a long breath, reveling in the feeling of her hot mouth on him.

“Fuck, baby. That’s good shit,” he cooed into the air, his chest rising and falling a tad faster than before. He peeked down at her. “Still good?” She stayed there for another half minute or so, nodding with an mhm, switching sides to pepper him with affections everywhere she could reach with that damn mouth. When she finally returned to his cock, he was leaking like a faucet. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, a trail of it sliding down the underside of his cock, rolling off of his spit-slicked sack. Her hands rested on his thighs again as she leaned forward to swipe her tongue over the head, humming, content. Her mouth followed the trail, leaving a line of spit along his length. She continued her mission and covered him from tip to base with her drool.

He tilted his head down and watched her with half-lidded eyes. “Atta girl,” he rasped, thumb brushing over her scalp. “Just like that. You can use more pressu- unf, yeah, perfect, baby.” She licked her lips as she pulled back, admiring her handiwork in the low light. His gnarled cock was shiny with spit, his dick twitching at the temperature difference as it cooled against his ruined skin. Nora returned to the head and opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out and looking up at him, waiting. “What a good girl,” he let out in a gruff chuckle as she subtly shifted her weight at the praise, thighs rubbing together and eyes fluttering closed. He took hold of his base with his free hand before sliding his tip against her tongue, spreading his pre-cum around. She whined, brow pinched and fingernails digging into his thighs. He slowly slid his length into her mouth, her lips closing around him and gently sucking him in deeper. He carefully rocked back and forth to ease any discomfort, to let her get used to the weight of him on her tongue. Hancock maintained his steady and modest thrusts and could feel the eventual relaxation of her mouth and throat around his cock. She went to take him deeper a few times, but his firm hand in her hair kept her from rushing. At each thwarted attempt, she’d groan louder and louder- not just with frustration, but with pleasure. He filed away how effective a little hair pulling was for future use, catching her fighting for friction against her cunt more than once. She really was getting pleasure out of this.

(Dirty, his mind hissed, delighted.)

Her eyes peeked open at him before she finally- slowly, as slowly as he would allow- slid him down to the base, lips touching his fingers where they stayed wrapped around his cock. She held him for only a second before sputtering and pulling off of him with a cough, catching her breath. His thumb brushed over her head gently. “Easy there, baby. It’s not goin’ anywhere.” She snorted up at him with defiance in her eyes, nose wrinkled. When she worked him deep into her mouth and throat again, though drool immediately pooled under his cock and spilled out of her mouth around him, he held as still as he could, grip still tight around his base. He was sure that, had he not been choking his length in a death grip, he’d have already cum deep down her throat. The thought of painting her with his spend, feeling her swallow him down enthusiastically, practically made his eyes cross. He let out a pained groan when he felt her tongue swipe against his hand, watching her throat bulge with him.

(Fuck. It was just unfair at this point.)

“Lookit you, sunshine. Practically a natural,” he cooed roughly, fighting his hips to not jerk sharply into the heat of her mouth. She gurgled quietly, drool now in a steady drip out of her mouth. Hancock hissed at the vibration. He dropped his hand off of his base and reached down to rest it on top of one of hers that clutched his thigh, grasping at her tightly to ground himself. She pulled off of him slowly but kept his head in her mouth, catching her breath while still showering the tip with affectionate licks. She slowly started up a rhythm in earnest after a few seconds, sliding her lips up and down his shaft. She slowly worked him further and further into her mouth, the slide of her tongue around him coaxing a whimper from him. “Fuck, Nora- baby, right there- yes, yes-“ Usually, Hancock was a big hands-guy. He liked when his partner would cover whatever length of his cock wasn’t in their mouth with a firm grip. In his pleasure-induced haze, he was now confused. This was a tried and true method for him, always had him feel the most and get off the quickest. But Nora’s mouth was everywhere. Every time he’d start mourning the loss of the wet heat of her lips on a certain part of his cock, or wish she’d press down harder with her tongue, only a second would pass before she would do exactly as he wished. He vaguely felt his mouth running, but whatever was coming out was anyone’s guess.

(Was she a fuckin’ mind reader? Later, she’d shrug and offer him an I dunno, lucky guess? You’re not terribly hard to read, handsome. And then shortly after that, with a coo- I’m bullshitting you. You were telling me exactly what you wanted. Babbling and everything, she'd end with a laugh.)

Steady groans rumbled from her throat, heightening the sensations of his dick in her mouth. It was a heady combination and he was embarrassed to realize that he had been rocking his hips into her mouth steadily. Her teeth grazed the prominent vein running along the bottom of his length and he jerked his hips into her mouth, down her throat. It caused her to gag emphatically and he went to pull her off when one of her hands flew up to his grip on her hair, stopping him. He looked down at her and shuddered, releasing a loud groan.

“Fuck, Nora.” She was certainly a sight to behold, lips puffy around his angry length, spit making her face and chest shiny, eyes watering up at him. “What is it, baby? Ya want me to fuck your face?” he cooed, pulling on her hair lightly. She groaned and he swore he felt it in his goddamn toes. “Remember, tap three times if ya wanna stop.” She nodded, letting out a gurgle of agreement. “Show me.” She slapped his thigh three times, sharp but quick. He tugged her hair with a grin. “Good girl.” He started slow, his hips resuming their gentle rocking into her mouth. Hancock took his time increasing his pace, the spongy head of his cock sliding easily down her throat. She gagged but soldiered on as drool continued to drip from her mouth around him, squelches echoing in the exam room. She gagged again, once, twice, and he gently pulled back a bit, giving her time to recover. Almost immediately she slid her hands up to his narrow hips and tugged him towards her mouth, his length sliding forward smoothly this time.

“That’s it, love. All the way down now,” he didn’t bother holding back his growl, eyes locked on hers. Tears dripped down her cheeks again and she sputtered enthusiastically around him. He hissed at the vibration and pressed his cock as deep as it could go, holding it there. “You-“ he stuttered, breathing heavily. “Gonna cum, baby. Where- where-” She swallowed around him pointedly and the Ghoul shuddered before the pressure in his spine snapped, his irradiated cum sliding down her throat, his hips twitching to propel his load into her mouth. She moaned lowly around him, making him shake as the stimulation coaxed more pleasure from him. The sensations bordered on overstimulation as she swallowed around him once more. His hooded gaze stayed on her as she held him too deep for too long, her throat spasming around the intrusion. Her airway trembled at the lack of oxygen and the abundance of his spend, abruptly snorting and choking. His cum escaped her nose and mouth in a spray around his cock, painting his pelvis and her face with the sticky spend.

He pulled back slowly after fighting to catch his breath, cursing lowly as she gently suckled on his cock on its way out from the heat of her mouth. His dick flopped uselessly from between her lips, his grip on her hair loosening until his hand brushed down to her cheek.

“Tell me the truth,” he panted, and she blinked up at him innocently with watery eyes, licking her lips and fighting to catch her breath. Spit and spend dribbled down her face as she wiped at her nose, cheeks burning and sheepish. “You come outta my dreams or somethin’?”

His words seemed to comfort her sudden embarrassment. She snorted, settling back on the mattress and wincing at the sudden pressure on her ass and movement of air through the irritated tissue of her nose. “Could say the same about you, handsome.”

“Fuck,” he groaned in response, running a hand down his gnarled face before kneeling on the ground again and collapsing back on the mattress next to her. “Better than I imagined, sunshine.”

“I aim to please,” she hummed. “Was definitely different than a smooth-skin, but a good different.” The Sole Survivor’s grin was all teeth. “Cum felt good going down, though. Warm.” She paused, then, “Tasted godawful, though.”

“Shit, baby. Keep talkin’ like that and we’ll have a repeat performance soon,” he laughed lightly, his head floaty.

“Promise?” she hummed and grabbed his discarded flag to wipe her face. Once satisfied, she laid next to him and rolled into his chest. His arm wrapped around her tightly and she craned her neck up to kiss him. He met her lips lazily, swiping his tongue across hers to lick up the residual taste of him in her mouth.

“Gimme five,” he grumbled as their mouths separated. “Promised I’d make ya a certified Ghoul-fucker, ‘member?”

Chapter Text

“Damn shame ya used the last bottle of vodka for that Molotov,” Hancock lamented. “Coulda really got this party goin’, ya feel me?”

“Truly a shame,” Nora nodded, handing him a box of dirty water.

“Guess we’ll just hafta reschedule it, huh?”

“You have a plan in mind?” She raised a brow, sitting thigh-to-thigh against him on the mattress. He nodded as he took a big gulp from the box.

“You, me, a box a’ chems, at least two crates of liquor, the Third Rail VIP room…” He tossed his arm over her shoulders and tugged her close as she laughed.

“Sounds like a truly wild and exhibitionist-laden night.”

“I believe the term is hedonistic.” They shared a chuckle, Nora pressing her cheek into his shoulder.

“So… what now?” she asked, staring at the rusted wall in front of them, sipping from her own can of purified water.

“Depends on you, sunshine. We can get up and get goin’ if ya wanna. Or I can make good on my promise.”

Her eyes automatically glanced down to her left wrist, but she vaguely recalled leaving her Pip-Boy near her pack. “I can’t decide that if I don’t even know what time it is.”

“Ya wanna go check?” He gazed down at her as she shifted her head to look up at him. They sat there quietly for a few moments, sharing breath, before a soft but weak smile spread on her lips.

“I want-,” she murmured haltingly. “I want to be selfish for an hour.” A few different emotions fluttered across her features, as if she had surprised herself by her own decision. She cleared her throat, seemingly trying to bring levity back to the situation. “Also, if I stepped foot outside right now I don’t think I’d land a single shot.”

“That right?” Hancock had half a mind to grab a cigarette from his pack before he realized that her hand had moved to rest high on his thigh. He felt his dick stir and didn’t fight against her sudden topic change.

(Something to think about later, he supposed. She definitely didn’t seem to be looking for the topic to be broached.)

“I think I’m too distracted,” she purred, thumb rubbing in the crease between his thigh and pelvis. He hummed, leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

“Well, we’ll just hafta get ya all focused up again, huh?” he cooed back, putting the half-empty box of dirty water on the ground. Nora wiggled her panties off and tossed them to the side, joining the pile of Hancock’s pants and boots. The couple slid back down to the mattress, Nora lying on the Ghoulish mayor’s chest. His hands immediately sat atop her bruised ass. She huffed at him playfully, earning a sharp smile in return as she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck.

“So, same rules as last time?” Nora started. “Stop means stop, three taps is tapping out. Multiple check-ins.”

“What are your hard stops?” He squeezed the fat between his fingers lightly. She groaned quietly into his chest.

“I don’t really do piss or shit,” she considered aloud. “Those are the big ones, I guess.”

“Anything else ya feel I need to know?”

"There are a lot of things that I’m interested in- but in theory only,” she confessed. “There were a lot of concepts that never were explored. What about you?”

“So you’re still figurin’ out what’s best for you,” he nodded. “I feel ya. I’m not big into shit or cannibalism. Too messy.”

She stared up at him, “I want to add cannibalism to my list, please.” He laughed at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her forehead.

“So. You still soakin’, sunshine?” She nodded with a sly smile.

“You wanna check?” Nora purred, shifting her legs apart for him, knees bracketing his. He didn’t hesitate to lift a hand away from her ass to slide between her legs, fingers slipping through the mess of arousal that covered her lips.

He groaned. “Damn, baby. All this for me?”

“I told you I’d been dreaming about it for forever,” she hummed. “What can I say? I got excited.” He slid his hand back up, trailing his glossy fingers across her ass.

“Want me to stretch you out?” He figured he’d ask, though it was mostly rhetorical.

(Of course he was going to stretch her out, why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t looking to make her bleed. Especially after feeling how tight she was earlier.)

“No, I think I’m good.” He looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes. She seemed almost confused at the question he posed her.

(What the fuck were they doing pre-War?)

“You sure? Ya said it’s been a while,” he tried again.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s just see where we go, and if I need to stop I’ll let you know. I don’t wanna be too selfish with our time, y’know?” He held back a frown.

(Selfish? To make sex feel good for both of them? He decided that this was definitely another topic they’d broach later.)

“I dunno, Nora,” he rumbled underneath her, trying to keep his sour thoughts to himself and enjoy the moment with the woman he was infatuated with. “What if I wanna be selfish, too?” He craned his head down to catch her lips, his hand traversing south again to trace her opening. She shifted her legs open further, whining into their kisses as he slid a finger smoothly into her heat. He bit at her lower lip while she ground into his hand, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth before sliding in, tasting her.

She keened as he worked a second finger into her, lazily pumping in and out. Their kisses turned messy quickly, the wet smacking of their lips together filling the small room as the Sole Survivor reached down to wrap a fist around his half-hard cock, giving it a rough pump. Her other hand rested on his cheek gently, carefully, thumb brushing almost tenderly over his cheekbone. He grunted, the hand on her ass squeezing the flesh roughly, her hips rolling harshly into his grasp. For a Ghoul that had recently cum, his length stood at attention quickly. It was no time at all before he was pulsing in her grip, his tip angry and beginning to smear pre-cum on her hand as she jerked him smoothly.

When he added a third finger, it was a tight stretch. She was practically dripping down his wrist as Nora moaned low, doubling her efforts against his mouth. He could feel the muscles of her stomach jump as he began to slowly pump his digits into her snatch, her hips rocking back to meet each thrust. As much as she seemed confused by his original proposition, he couldn’t help but notice how into it she was- it almost felt like she was thanking him for the digits currently stuffed up to the knuckle in her cunt. Her moans became airy and she had to pull away from him momentarily a few times to pant. She’d always return to his ruined lips, though, loathe to be parted for too long.

Hancock eventually and regretfully pulled his mouth from hers, the hand on her ass migrating away and reaching towards the bottle next to them. Nora whined and dug her face into his neck, huffing and kissing the column of ruined skin in front of her. He hummed at the light sensation, tapering into a hiss when she bit down and rubbed his pre-cum around the head of his cock at the same time. With dexterity and a whole lot of focus, he managed to pop open the RadX bottle and fish another two capsules out. He placed them carefully on his tongue, gently cupping Nora’s jaw and guiding her half-lidded gaze to meet his. It took a few seconds for her eyes to drift away from his and down to the pills sitting on his tongue. She smiled lazily and leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. Hancock slid his hand back to her ass and squeezed tight, groaning into her mouth as her tongue slid across his lack of a bottom lip. He responded in kind, seeking contact and licking his tongue along hers, letting the capsules roll off into her mouth. They pulled away slowly, eyes locked as she opened her mouth and presented him the Rad-X he had so kindly gifted her. He lightly smacked her ass as she swallowed, her hips rocking harder against his hand.

“Fuck, John-“

“I need to be inside ‘a you,” he rasped as she leaned forward to press her cheek against his.

“You gonna beg pretty for me?” she cooed breathlessly, throwing his words back at him.

“Fuck, I’ll drink gasoline if ya want me to,” he groaned. “Ya think you’re ready?”

“Been ready,” she huffed, squeezing her fist around his tip with quick jerks. Hancock panted against her, fingers clawing into her ass. “Still waiting for that pretty begging, though.”

“Nora- goddamn- please let me fuck you. Please.” She released his cock quickly, sitting up and straddling his waist as he pulled his fingers out of her cunt. He could see the mischief in her eyes for a split second, the consideration of making him beg more- to really beg- a flash across her face. It was gone as quickly as it came, though, and he tucked that information away for later.

“Fuck me? You don’t want to make love to me?” she teased. The Ghoul reached down to start stroking himself with his dripping hand, a wet sound squelching loudly from his grip.

“Baby,” Hancock pleaded, his words starting to slur, “if I don’t fuck ya ‘till your brain is comin’ outta your ears right now, my withered little heart is gonna give out. Take pity on an old Ghoul.” She scoffed before gently batting his hand away from his cock and reaching down to grasp his base. His hips rocked into her grip as she lifted herself to hover an inch over his length. As she peeked down at him, she found his black eyes staring back at her, a light sheen over his gaze.

(Desperate, he felt desperate.)

She seemed to see his despair and smiled slyly, slowly easing his head into her heat. He took a sharp inhale through gritted teeth, his hands curling tightly around her hips, squeezing the fat. “Shit, Nora. Fuck.” She paused there for a moment, watching his face closely as she slowly started inching down. With each move she made, her brows would pinch closer and closer together, and he took in every twitch of every muscle. “Atta girl, takin’ me so well- such a good girl for me-“

About halfway in, Nora let out a low, wounded sound, her hands scrambling to dig into the crevices of his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!”

“C’mon, baby, all the way down for me,” Hancock rasped, groping at her. He was panting when he squeezed her hips, pulling her attention. “You- shit- you good?”

“So good,” she breathed. “So, so good.” By the time she took him to the base, their pelvises kissing, they were both breathing heavily, sweat gathering on Nora’s forehead. “John, oh my god- you’re fucking thick.”

“Is that your fucking cervix?” he shot back, unable to contain his urge to buck his hips up into her. She choked and squeezed around him abruptly, the movement tearing a cry from her throat. “Goddamn, baby.”

“Yes, you bastard.” She ground her hips into him. His hands moved with her, pressing her firmly onto his cock. “John, fuck-“ A steady string of squelching started to fill the space as she began to slowly bounce on him. He groaned under the movement, her warm, wet walls massaging every inch of him.

“Could die happy in your pussy,” he rambled. “Hot as hell, love. Fuck, your fuckin’ body.” She picked up pace and force, clenching down every time she would pull up. His fingers pressed into her hips roughly all the while, surely leaving bruises in their wake. The thought made him warm. She was riding him in earnest, hiccups of pleasure spilling from her as he rolled his hips up into hers, bouncing her in his lap. He started shifting into a sitting position to get better leverage and take a nipple into his mouth, but she pressed on his chest roughly, forcing him down onto his back and picking up her pace.

“Fuck- just like that, baby, yes, yes-“ he groaned low, lightheaded. His fingers rubbed against the smooth skin of her pelvis, trailing over to her mound and sliding slickly down and over her clit. Nora broke her rhythm to buck into his touch with a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his chest again. She started grinding down against him, breathing hard under his hands. He pulled roughly at her hip, rubbing harshly at her nub with his other hand. Her eyes were closed in pleasure, her head tipping back as she let her rhythm dissipate in favor of chasing his fingers.

He took advantage of her momentary distraction, moving to grasp her hips in both hands and rolling them over. She choked on a breath at getting jostled, her head snapping forward to stare at him with heat. It didn’t last, though, as he pulled out of her with a hiss, a sound of surprise coming from her scratchy throat. She opened her mouth to protest before he flipped her onto her stomach, smacking her ass harshly. She screeched, scrambling to escape his hands, his grip on her firmly stopping her from getting too far.

“None ‘a that, sunshine. C’mon, lemme make ya feel good,” Hancock panted, lifting her hips. “Wanna see this gorgeous ass bounce.”

“Fucking pervert-“ she hissed at him before his hand came down once more, his eyes locked on, watching the skin ripple against the impact. She cried out again and got on her knees, shaky, her face pressed against the mattress.

“How’re we doin’ down there?” His brain was sizzling in his skull, surprising even himself with the coherency of his question.

“More,” she groaned, shaking her hips at him enticingly. He couldn’t help but smack her tender cheeks one more time, both of them moaning at the sting of both her ass and his hand.

“I know, baby, lemme give it to ya,” he managed to coo before lining himself up and slowly sliding right back into her cunt, letting out a stuttered breath. “Fuck.”

“Deep!” she cried loudly. “Shit, honey, you’re so fucking deep-“ He allowed both of them a moment to adjust to the new position, his fingers settling back into the divots he had created on her hips. He ground his cock into her mercilessly, coaxing more wounded sounds from her, her hands scrambling to hold onto the edge of the mattress. “John, please, John, John,” she chanted, fluttering around him, trying to suck him in deeper. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-!” She couldn’t finish her sentence as he began rocking into her sharply. “I feel you in my guts,” she sobbed, her core muscles trembling. “More, I need- I need you, please, please-“

“Gonna cum on my cock?” His voice was gravel, letting one of his hands fall away from the harsh grasp on her hip to brush a gnarled finger across her asshole. She immediately tensed up with a quiet whimper, cunt producing sloppy sounds at its attempt to keep him deep inside her heat.

“Please.”

“Ya want more?” he continued in a rasp, thumb dipping into her hole. “I’ll give ya more, sunshine.” He started rocking his hips harshly, the smacks of his narrow hips against her ass joining the wet sounds of her dripping around his cock. He had the presence of mind to slide his thumb shallowly into her ass with each clap of her against him, and it only took about a minute before she let out a sob and clenched down around him hard, trembling in his grasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ she whimpered, breath catching and legs shaking as she came. He mourned, only for a moment, that he couldn't see her face- that he couldn't trace every wrinkle, every crease, every line he had coaxed out of her- and resolved his limited lamentation by swearing to himself that the next orgasm she so graciously supplied him a front row seat to would be face-to-fucking-face. He practically panted at the thought of going several more rounds, sinking into her addicting heat blissfully and not peeling himself away until she was so cockdrunk she couldn't speak.

“Atta girl,” he praised roughly, sliding his finger out of her ass. “Doin’ so good, cummin’ all over my cock like that. My gorgeous girl,” he babbled. He slowed his pace against her, giving enough movement to prolong her pleasure while being mindful of overstimulation.

(They could get to that again later.)

“John,” she breathed out, body pliant in his grip. He slowly pulled out, admiring the shine of her arousal coating her inner thighs and his cock, before easing her onto her back. Nora panted under him, his eyes locked on her sweat-soaked tits heaving in front of him. He slid back into her smoothly, unable to choke back a groan that paired melodically with the high-pitched whimper the Sole Survivor let out. He was slow but steady as he started rocking into her again, his gaze shooting up to take stock of her face. She had hair plastered against her forehead and cheeks, droplets of sweat rolling down her temples. Her eyes were half-lidded and locked onto his face, lips parted and looking utterly fucked out.

“Got another one for me?” he purred, managing a leer. “C’mon, baby. Don’t be stingy.”

“John,” she choked as one of his ruined hands slid up her stomach to cup a breast, thumb swiping slickly across her peaked nipple. She whined, her fingers slowly reaching up and wrapping around his wrist, grunting as he gave a particularly harsh roll of his hips into her at the same time he pinched the pebbled nub. The predatory sheen was back over his black eyes, giving her little warning before he released her chest and swooped his head down to take her breast into his mouth. Nora’s fingers immediately flew to his bare scalp and gifted him with rough scratches at the sensation. He groaned with her nipple in his mouth, making her buck her hips into his at the vibration.

He sucked and licked at her viciously, his thrusts become sharper and sharper. Nora let out quiet uh uh uh’s at each impact, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, clouded and unfocused. He was relentless against her breast, feeling the tell-tale tingle in his spine and pressure building. She let out a sound like she got shot as he reached up to squeeze her breast tightly, licking up the rush of milk from her desperately, tracing his tongue down the sides to catch any escaped droplets. He released her from his mouth with a pop! and eased himself upright again, his pace getting frantic. As Hancock’s grasp receded from her tit, Nora’s gaze focused back on him, her hand catching one of his and leading his grip to her throat. He stared at her for a moment before she nodded, baring her neck to him. He delicately took the column into his hand, fingers careful as they started to apply pressure.

Her intense gaze, still half-covered by her fluttering lashes, locked onto his. He leaned into her with each roll of his hips, eventually pressing his ruined lips to her plush ones, stealing her thin sounds of pleasure.

“Gonna cum with me this time? Spoiled girl,” he muttered into her mouth, his grasp tightening and loosening around her airway. She let out a wet gasp, claws still digging into his wrist, letting out a weak uh-huh.

He kept relentlessly thrusting into her, their eyes staying locked as he squeezed to lightly impede the blood flow. Their shared gaze was abruptly interrupted as he pressed his lips to hers again, a ruined sound echoing down his throat from the woman under him, eyes closing. Nora whimpered as he pulled away just a few inches, her thighs beginning to shake, her whines and moans slowly getting louder. He gave her throat another light squeeze and held it, her eyes fluttering open before rolling back, lips parted and cheeks burning. She clenched down on him, trembling uncontrollably as she came. At the same time, he jerked his hips into her one, two, three more times before an airy whine erupted from his throat into her slack mouth.

Her lips still parted to gasp for breath, eyes rolled back. He felt his spend slowly ooze out from around his cock, the wet of their mixed cum pooling under them in a puddle of debauchery. He released her neck carefully, collapsing on top of her weakly. He still felt her rhythmically clenching down on him, his cock twitching in response. The pair simply laid there for a while, taking their time coming down.

“Ya did great.” His mouth brushed against her sweaty temple. “Fuckin’ perfect, Nora. Where ya been all my life, huh?”

“In a fucking-“ she panted, “-icebox.” He let a gruff laugh into her cheek, glancing his mouth across her cheek before gently meeting her lips in a careful and quiet kiss.

“Lemme know when you’re ready for me to pull out,” he murmured as he pulled back, gaze taking in every aspect of her expression; an old habit of looking for disappointment or regret. She looked positively satisfied, though, not an inch of her face tense or troubled. She looked perfectly happy to die where she was.

“Can I choose the never option?” she muttered, her fingers following her gaze in reaching up to ghost over his cheeks.

“So you’re into exhibition, too? Good to know,” he teased her lightly, turning his head into her digits and playfully nipping at the tips.

She let out a weak giggle but didn’t pull away, watching limply as his teeth caught each finger gently. “I thought we were steering clear of cannibalism.”

“Maybe I’ll make an exception,” he cooed, leaning in to snap at her cheek. She giggled again, eyes fluttering closed. “After all, you do taste exception-al.” She snorted at his joke, wrapping her arms around him to snuggle closer.

“I thought you hated lazy humor. Anyhow, if you eat me out right now I don’t think I’ll make it to tomorrow. I’m also fucking dripping- you don’t think that’s gross?”

“Ya think we wouldn’t taste delicious together?” he teased, lips grazing her soft cheek again, this time on the opposite side. “I wouldn’t be opposed to cleanin' you up…”

“I think I gotta warm up to that one,” she mused. “That’s not a no, though.” He kissed her loudly on the cheek, grinning as he slowly pulled back. She huffed, trying to tighten her grasp before he could pull away completely. He was slippery with her sweat, though, and slid out of her arms easily.

“Gotta get some RadAway in ya.” His thumb brushed over her lips, her tongue dipping out to run over the whorls. “Ready for me to move?”

She sighed dramatically before offering him a pout and muttering, “I suppose so.”

“Woe is you, sunshine. Fucked within an inch ‘a your life and still hungry for more.”

“Blame your thick-ass dick,” Nora mumbled, shivering as he pulled his soft cock out of her slowly, keening lowly as his cum dripped down her ass.

“What a pretty picture,” he rasped, reaching down to spread her lips. His finger glanced across her pulsing clit and she jerked away, hissing. He couldn’t contain his chuckle as she weakly kicked at him, muttering something along the lines of you goddamn bully.

He got her situated quickly, letting her roll over and get comfortable while he reached over her to grab the RadAway. She looked pale as he picked it up despite the warmth radiating from her cheeks and chest.

“Scared of needles but got a whole sleeve ‘a tattoos,” Hancock mused, holding the RadAway up in the air for her to inspect. She squinted at the IV bag for a moment before nodding. He tossed it next to the mattress before climbing back into the space next to her, crowding her. A glance at her face told him that she didn't seem averse to his proximity in the slightest.

“I’m a complicated individual,” she teased back, letting out a long breath, content as he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her against his chest.

“You can say that again,” he laughed as she lightly smacked his knee. They sat in the quiet for a few moments, eyes roving over each other, delight and satisfaction bright on their faces. “That was somethin’ else, sunshine,” he thought aloud, free hand running over her naked thigh. She hummed in agreement. “Felt better than the chems... alright, maybe like 80% as good.”

“Asshole,” she laughed, closing her eyes with a smile. “If you’re that good of a fuck sober, I can only imagine what it would be like on those chems.”

“Oh? Already plannin’ on a repeat performance? And on chems, no less. Think I’ve been rubbin’ off on ya.”

“In more ways than one,” she peeked an eye open cheekily, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Well ain’t you just a terror,” he purred back, pleased. With a lascivious grin, he squeezed her thigh roughly. She returned his grin, then closed her eyes again as she lay on the worn mattress.

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, a warmth spreading across his chest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

“You good, sister?” Hancock leaned over Nora with a hand on her upper back, rubbing the soaking vault suit comfortingly. She sat back, wiping the vomit from her mouth with a perturbed look, spitting the excess bile and saliva into the irradiated water off the pier.

“Y-yeah,” she coughed as he used his comparably dry sleeve to wipe the sweat and water away from her face and forehead. “I shoulda told you that it’s been a minute since I’ve swam- and never in irradiated water.”

“Certainly a learning curve,” he agreed, offering her hand after a moment to pull her upright. “Hey, how’s that bullet wound, by the way?”

“Stinging. Definitely stinging,” she groaned as she righted herself, rolling her injured shoulder. “I’m just annoyed. I know the Commonwealth isn’t the most… welcoming place, but it’s a shame that Phyllis started shooting as soon as she saw us.”

“Yeah,” he mused, squinting up at the bloody body hanging off the second floor balcony behind them. “But she killed her grandkid and blamed it on the Institute. Dunno how much of a shame it really is,” he commented idly, gaze still caught on the limp body. He was suddenly struck, momentarily, at how reminiscent the dead woman’s position was to Vic when Hancock had thrown the bastard over a similar balcony in Goodneighbor. Bright and bloody, a flag waving in the setting sun that acted as a staunch reminder of the violence the Wasteland demanded. Cultivated in each poor sap wandering this post-apocalyptic space, a burgeoning flower lined with teeth and viscera.  Sprouting from even the pre-War beauty standing next to him, hair mussed and water-logged.

“I guess.” She seemed to give him space for his reverie, throwing him a glance or two as she tried to squeeze out whatever water she could from her person to little avail. “Do you think we’ll make it to Cutler Bend before the sun sets?” She was steadily unstrapping and re-strapping her armor methodically, tightening it up to sit appropriately on her after getting displaced by her sudden fall into the water.

“Shouldn’t be too far now,” he rasped, finally pulling his attention off of the dead body. “Did that Brotherhood asshole tell ya what abominations we’re cleansing the Commonwealth of?” She shook her head with a wrinkle of her nose.

“No, but if it’s another pack of feral Ghouls, I’m gonna lose it,” she muttered. “Asshole knows we’re traveling together. It’s just rude.”

“He know what else we do together?” he purred as he pulled her against him by her waist, chuckling as she playfully tried to slap away his hands.

“I’m- get off! I’m soaking wet!” Her cheeks burned and, despite her words, she leaned into him.

“Y’think some irradiated water’s gonna make me keep my hands to myself?” he teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Think it makes ya tastier.” She tried to huff through a giggle and pushed at him as his kisses got progressively more and more annoying, wetter and louder against her cheeks.

“Get off!” She started laughing as she tried to lean away, the Ghoul ensnaring her bending with her until they were practically glued together at a 45° angle. “I’m gonna fall in again!” He gifted her one more loud, wet kiss before pulling her back upright and releasing her with a pinch to her ass. She managed to smack his hand away when he moved to do it again, unable to maintain a stern face. “You’re a menace,” she accused, turning her nose up at him, lips twitching into a smile. “Not gentlemanly at all.”

“I’d love to take ya out for a drink, sunshine. Unfortunately for us, the Commonwealth does not provide bars outside of a few settlements. A damn shame.”

“If I couldn’t hear the bottles of liquor sloshing around in your pack, I’d believe you more,” she laughed, nudging him as she started making her way around the edge of the Egret Tours Marina to head further downriver. “And yes, this is me asking for a sip to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.” She raised an eyebrow as his eyes shifted down and to the side. “If you’re… alright to share?” she followed up slowly, confused at the sudden and uncharacteristically subdued expression on his face.

“Yeah- no, yeah, ‘course, Nora. What’s mine is yours. Just, uh. Just gimme a second to dig through my shit.” He just managed to stop himself from full-on stuttering as he took off his pack and kneeled over it, trying to block her view from his belongings. He was anything but subtle, his red frock practically a blinking light to her attention that screamed look at me, I’m doing some shady shit!

Eventually, after a few muttered curses, he held a bottle of vodka out to her, eyes crinkled along the pulls and striations of his face as he offered a half-smile. Her eyebrow remained raised as she took the bottle with a confused noise. “Uh… thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He was pleased that he managed to save himself from the verbal diarrhea he had felt coming on. He watched her closely as she opened the bottle and put her lips to it, knocking it back and taking three large gulps. She tilted it upright again as she pulled away with a cough, making a face.

“That’ll wake you up in the morning,” she grumbled, handing the now-offensive item back to him. “Thanks. I’d take the taste of rubbing alcohol over vomit any day.” She turned her back to him as he started shuffling around his pack again, obviously trying to give him some privacy. He was endlessly appreciative as he threw the bottle back in with the rest of his inventory. Once he stood up, throwing the bag over his shoulder once more, they moved out. He was additionally grateful that she didn’t press him on what had just happened.

(My patient girl, he wanted to coo at her and give her a token of his appreciation. But they’d get to that. After all, that was the whole reason for the secrecy in the first place.)

They fell into an easy conversation, hushed voices low and their pace slower than usual as they mapped out this new area. They tried to keep their steps light to avoid any unwanted attention as the sun glared at them from the horizon in one last show of anger.

“Why would anyone wanna die in their bed?” Hancock practically scoffed. “What kinda person would choose that as the way to go out?” He shook a Jet inhaler before taking a deep hit, holding it and letting it float out of his nasal cavities with a satisfied sigh.

“I think it’s the concept of not suffering,” Nora hummed, wincing at the squeak of wet material rubbing together quietly with each step. She shot him a dirty look as he tried to hide his snickers behind a cough. “The goal would be to pass away surrounded by friends and family. To have your last experience on Earth be one of comfort. I guess?” she tacked on at the end, glancing at him.

“Is that what you wanted? Well- heh. Want?”

“Hm,” she grunted back. “That’s a good question. My death wasn’t something I was really concerned with. I just wanted to make sure that Shaun was cared for when I was gone.” Nora bit her bottom lip as she considered. “I dunno. I guess the concept’s kinda bullshit now anyways. As long as I can find my son alive and well, and make sure he’s alright if I go, I guess I don’t really care.”

“You know I’d take him, right?” That stopped her in her tracks.

“Huh?” He came to a halt beside her.

“Your kid- Shaun. If anything’d happen to you. I know I’m not the best influence but-“ he stopped himself mid-sentence as her eyes got glassy. “Hey, hey, what’s with the waterworks?”

“Dunno,” she cleared her throat. “That’s just-“ she cleared her throat again. “That means a lot. To me. So, uh. Yeah.” She allowed herself a sniffle before offering him a terribly soft smile. His heart melted like butter. “Thank you, John. Just. Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he offered lamely. He was mildly confused, he had to admit. Of course she’d had to have known that he would do that, wouldn’t she? That he’d throw himself into the damn lake they were skirting to make her smile?  “You got nothin’ to worry about.”

“I dunno,” she rubbed at her face for a moment before jerking her head the way they had been heading. They fell in step again. “You may have to fight a certain synth to get primary custody.”

“Heh. I think I can take ‘ole Nick.”

“I think he packs a mean punch. I saw him body slam someone last week.”

“Nick? Our Nick?” She nodded emphatically.

“He also beat me real bad at poker. Like bad bad. Like felt so bad he took all my caps that he ended up going all in with his earnings on the last round and folding. With a goddamn royal flush.” Nora shook her head with an amused huff. “Surprised no one called security on the amount of ruckus from his office. Ellie was yelling and I was throwing things and Nick was chain smoking so much I was afraid it was his processing system overheating.” Hancock barked out a laugh at the picture she painted, pulling out his cigarette pack and lighting it smoothly as the sun continued to set. Life, for a moment, felt-

(Good? he thought with nothing short of a confused amazement. Life felt good.)

“Love that you’re gettin’ into all sorts of trouble without me,” he hummed as she rolled her eyes at him playfully.

“I can’t play poker with you, handsome.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” He leaned into her space as they continued to walk, their shoulders rubbing with every other step.

“You’d make it strip poker. And then we’d be on the table in maybe… five minutes? Ten if we’re pushing it.”

“Hey, we both gotta lotta layers, sister. Make it a cool fifteen at least.” She shook her head and snorted out a laugh.

“One sock is not a layer. It’s both socks as one, and both shoes as one.”

“Never thought you’d be a stickler for the rules of strip poker.” He took a heavy drag and let it out before shooting her a grin. “You got some experience?”

“With poker? No, I’m shit.” She shot him her own little mischievous smile. “Taking my clothes off, though…” They shared a look for a moment before they broke down into chuckles.

“A real party animal,” he practically cooed, his black eyes tracing the outline of her body appreciatively for only a moment before Nora straightened up.

“Oh! Speaking of parties. I forgot- I found these during my last run through Boston. Thought of you.” Even though her face was hidden as she dug into one of her pockets, he saw her posture become a little more demure. Bashful.

(Fuck. Cute too? No fuckin’ fair.)

“Here.” She peeked at him through her lashes, holding out a tin of Mentats. Not just any Mentats though. Of course not, his Nora could never do things in half measures. Party Time Mentats sat in her smooth hand, his rough fingers dragging across her palm as he took the tin from her grip. He grinned when he noticed her shiver.

“Oh, sunshine, I’m flattered. Hopefully that ain’t the only time ya thought about me,” he purred, looping a finger under a piece of her armor and tugging her close. She inhaled sharply as she stumbled straight into his arms, cheeks burning. “Ya wanna set up camp for the night? Got some ideas I wanna try out together. Make it a real party. Ya dig?” She stuttered for a second, cheeks burning, before wrinkling her nose and shoving at him with a burst of giggles.

“Hancock, c’mon! We’re almost there anyways, don’t you just wanna get this over with?” He leaned in to kiss her obnoxiously again, but she managed lean away just in time. He chased, nipping at her instead. She kept wiggling in his hold, laughing outright as she pushed at his chest.

“Where ya goin’? Don’t tell me you’re tryna run,” he cooed darkly in her ear, pulling her tight against him by her hips. “Can’t be givin’ me shit like this and not expectin’ some gratitude.”

“You can give me all the gratitude you want once we’re done!” she tried to insist through her tapering giggles. “Let’s go, handsome.”

“Tryna play hard to get?” he rasped against the hinge of her jaw, scraping his teeth along the length of it. She shivered again in his arms, fingers digging into his frock, dizzy. “C’mon, lemme give ya somethin’ nice.”

“After we set up camp,” she tried to assert, lashes fluttering closed. Giving in. “I know it’s not in your vocabulary but you gotta be patient, honey.”

“Don’t be cute,” he nipped harshly at her, working a bruise into her neck. “You’re the twitchy one here.”

“Don’t like sitting idle,” she muttered, eyebrows pinched as his hands started mapping out her curves, grabbing at her and greedy for whatever he could get his hands on. She let out a shuddering breath, only coming back to herself as he groped her ass. “Okay, okay, okay-“ She shoved at him with all her strength, the two of them stumbling away from each other, her eyes flying open and immediately finding his. His gaze was dark, his tongue peeking out to trace his ruined bottom lip in a show of pure hunger. She wasn't much better. “Pop a Mentat and get your skinny ass moving, Casanova.” Her eyes narrowed in challenge, a lopsided smirk pulling at the corner of her lips at the face he was making. Pleased.

“You’re gonna get it later, baby,” he mentioned offhandedly as he popped open the tin in his hand. His discerning gaze brushed over the chems, not needing to look up at his companion to see the coy look that morphed her features. “Haven’t had these in a minute,” he mused as he popped two in his mouth. He paused, then tossed another one back. He offered her the tin, knowing that she’d shake her head with a no thanks. She didn’t disappoint.

They continued their trek along the water’s edge, her fingers finding his to loosely maintain a light touch. It didn’t really take them much longer to happen upon multiple boats strung together in a makeshift bridge across the water.

“I’m guessing this is where we gotta go,” she mused, letting go of his hand with a squeeze to ready her 10mm. He hummed in agreement as he pulled out his combat shotgun that she had recently modified. The abundance of gifts, favors, and considerations weren’t necessarily new for them or their dynamic. They took care of each other in these little ways every day, the foundation of their friendship built on strong bricks of I care about you, dammit. In this shitty, shitty world, I’ll always have your back. The intention behind these recent offerings, though, were less warm and more hot. The looks they shared as he gave her more bullets- which she always seemed low on. Or when their hands brushed in the middle of Diamond City as she passed him his freshly sharpened knife in an overt show of pride of having him, a Ghoul, at her side in the midst of the town square of bigots.

(Oh yeah, he thought fondly. Courting.)

He was pulled from his thoughts as they stepped foot onto the third boat. He was opening his mouth to make a snarky comment about the idiocy of the people that had managed to crash so many boats into each other to make a bridge. Something snapped in his brain, though, as he instead threw himself on top of the woman in front of him, the two landing with heavy impact against the overturned boat they were traversing over. She yelped, her grip tightening harshly on her gun so it didn’t slip out of her hands. His own was strapped onto his back moments before his tackle.

They stayed there for a moment, breathing hard in the quickly setting sun. It only took another moment of stillness before a King Mirelurk jumped up on a boat to their left with a cry, its earsplitting screech flying overhead, harsh ripples spreading across the disturbed lake. He could feel her breath stutter as another one hopped up on the boat to their right. His fingers dug into her side as yet another emerged from the water to crawl onto the boat in front of them, its eyes blinking with both eyelids, jagged teeth bared. The couple scrambled to their feet immediately as the sound of a fourth landing on the boat behind them kickstarted their sympathetic nervous systems.

Nora managed to throw three frag grenades before turning her attention to the one closest to them- to the left. Hancock turned and whipped out his gun again, taking aim and unloading into the bastard behind them. He threw the stock of his shotgun into the fishy chin of the monstrosity, using the stagger to fire two rounds into its abdomen. It let out a screech, knocking him off his feet and into the water with a shout. The sounds of Nora unloading her clip behind him gave him a momentary comfort that she was still up and kicking. He tried to scramble up the wet side of the overturned boat, his shotgun strapped to his back quickly to free up his hands.

He cursed as kept slipping, opting instead to move down the length of the boat quickly, a slimy claw coming down on where his hands had just been. Another screech from the asshole shook the boat and splashed the water around him, rocking him closer to shore. He paddled as vigorously as he could, his once-velvet frock soaking up the water with every stroke. As soon as his boots scraped the silt, he tumbled ass over tea kettle into the brush as another screech carried him forward, his head pounding.

Hancock scrambled to his feet to grab his shotgun, turning in time to see the thing bounding towards him, its facial fins outstretched and shaking in a show of aggression. It opened its toothy maw to release another screech- an opportunity the Ghoul took to shoot two bullets point-blank into its mouth. It choked and coughed as it listed to the side, flying through the brambles to land with a loud crack against a tree. He reloaded as the creature before him struggled to get to its feet, greenish blood weeping from its half-intact head. Its skull had flown off in pieces, bits of brain peeking through the loss of bone.

Hancock raised his reloaded shotgun and took aim in one second, and in the next was face down in the thorns of the bushes around him, ears ringing. He groaned, cursing loudly as he peeked over his shoulder, another one of the bastards coming up behind him. He guessed one got away from Nora- and then became acutely aware that he couldn’t hear her anymore. No gun firing, no shouts, nothing. He got cold suddenly, opening his mouth to start yelling for her, bracing for the tackle the fish monster behind him was getting ready for.

Then its legs were gone.

It let out a froggy noise of despair, listing over to the side, desperately crawling towards Hancock with gnashing teeth. Fueled only by rage and hunger. Hancock didn’t love that he saw himself reflected in those burning eyes, that the same thrill of violence that emanated from the creature in front of him was akin to his own inclinations. That they weren’t so different.

The King Mirelurk didn’t get far, a blue streak flashing through his periphery and tackling the thing with a loud grunt. The hissing and growling that came from the proceeding tussle were split between the vicious woman and the slimy fishman, and Hancock turned away from it with all the faith and certainty in Nora that he could scrape together. He launched himself at the remaining halfway-headless Mirelurk King with his freshly unsheathed knife, parrying two sluggish claw swipes. He stuck the thing twice in the abdomen, twisting where his shotgun had so graciously made holes for him to sink his blade into. He braced himself the moment he took another swipe to the shoulder, managing to duck in time to keep his head connected to his body.

From his crouch, he launched himself straight at the thing’s open mouth as it was taking a deep inhale to let out another screech. It choked, though. A twitch, jaw slack, before it toppled over, his knife sticking out from its unprotected brain. He gave into his bloodlust for just a moment, pulling his knife out and shoving it back into the squishy grey matter two more times. He didn’t give it another moment after that, though, whipping around, desperate to see his companion. “Nora?!”

“Here!” He heard her rasp, a blue-clad arm sticking up from some bushes with a faint wave. He swiped his knife and scooped up his shotgun, charging over to her. “Uh. This is embarrassing.” He was only confused until he got to her side, letting out a snort at the woman currently stuck under an eviscerated fishman.

“If ya wanted to be under someone-“

“Shut it.” He laughed as he shoulder checked the thing once, twice, three times before the limp body rolled off to the side. She was covered with all sorts- blood, guts, brain matter, irradiated brackish water, dirt- but was grossly intact. He reached down to take her arm before she hissed. He immediately dropped to his knees next to her, surveying her, nose to toes.

“You good?” he asked as he scanned. His fingers were already digging into the pocket that carried some Stimpacks.

“A little bruised, but no worse for wear.” She coughed a few times, looking down at her thigh at the same time his eyes landed on the irritated, torn skin. Blood dripped down her thigh. “I think it’s pretty shallow. Just sore.”

“You’re sure gettin’ beat up today,” he mused gently, pulling the cap off the needle of the Stimpack with his teeth and injecting her leg smoothly, despite her flinch.

“Thanks,” she breathed, looking up at him with a little smile. “Are you okay?”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he reassured her, tossing the empty syringe to the side and easing her to her feet with only a wince or two.

“You sure? You’re looking like a bruised peach.”

“A peach?”

“Seriously? We still have baseball bats, but peaches didn’t make the cut?”

“I’m not the Ghoul you should be takin’ this up with, sunshine.” She looked exasperated, then caught sight of the amusement in his eyes.

"You're bullshitting me," she realized with a huff, trying to push her damp hair out of her face, nose wrinkled and lips downturned. He chuckled and knocked his shoulder against hers affectionately.

“Hey, at least we got dinner for the week now.” She groaned as they looked down at the body at their feet. She let out a heavy sigh before leaning over to start chopping away at the Mirelurk King with her own small knife. Hancock turned and dragged the fish monster he had killed closer so they could work back to back- for the protection and camaraderie. He pulled out a fresh Jet inhaler, taking four hits to empty it. They worked in silence for a few minutes as the chem rushed through him, his brain firing on all cylinders at the mixture of chems in his system. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Not this again,” she groaned, the wet sounds of knives cutting through tissue the score to the beginning of the mental wanderings of one John Hancock. “What chems did you- oh.” She huffed as he wiggled the inhaler playfully at her with a pleased smile. “Damn.”

“Did this to yourself, sunshine,” he cooed. “Givin’ me those sweet Mentats like that. Just lookin’ for trouble.” When he glanced over his shoulder, he caught her shiver at his tone. He could practically see the goosebumps spreading across her body like a stone dropped in still water. Then he thought of her nipples pebbling, her clit pulsing-

“No,” she pulled him out of his reverie. “I don’t really believe in soulmates. But the concept is interesting.”

“Well, if there were soulmates, what kind do ya think we’d be?”

“There are different types?”

“Sure are. We could be the kind destined to fuck. We could also be the kind destined to kick the shit out of each other.“ Nora hummed behind him.

“Both, I think.”

“Both.”

They spoke at the same time, then broke down into fits of laughter. They took a minute to collect themselves, Nora rubbing the detritus off of her face with the sleeve of her suit. The sun continued to set behind them as they moved on to start crossing the boat-bridge again in higher spirits. Their conversation continued to meander, the Mentats making his brain buzz, the Jet slowing everything down. His eyes strayed to her ass for a little too long, the Ghoul taking advantage of the slowing of time around them to indulge.

He vaguely heard her talking and let out a noncommittal hum, thoroughly distracted by his view, eyes tracing how her normally skin-tight vault suit pulled at and sculpted her curves to the nth degree, the mayor practically drooling. At least, he was- until he noticed her stumble one time too many. Another weak trip over her own two feet made her stop fast enough to have him almost run into her. When did he get this close to her again? When he looked up with nothing but hunger in his eyes, he could practically feel the heat emanating from her cheeks as she peeked over her shoulder at him. His eyes traced her face- he couldn’t be sure, but she was looking a little paler than usual.

“You’re gonna make me blush if you keep staring like that.”

“Can’t have that, now can we?” He bit the bullet and decided to crowd her, pressing his chest against her back. He wrapped his hand around her hip, the other sliding down her other arm and taking her smooth hand in his cratered one. The two were still soaking, their combination of saturated clothing pulling a small trickle of water from between them.

(At least they were soaked together, he reasoned with himself.)

“What’re you doing?” she hummed lightly- a direct contradiction to her current grisly visage still painted faintly with all of the offerings the Wasteland provided. Despite her less than polished appearance, Hancock couldn’t help but lay it on thick.

“Just helpin’ a beautiful lady ‘cross a boat bridge. Nothin’ to see here,” he hummed in her ear, taking in the faint shudder that ran through her. “Why? Got a complaint?”

“Yes,” she squeezed his hand. “My escort is a little too handsome. Too distracting.” Her voice was thinner than usual.

“Damn shame, that,” he purred, leading her off of the last boat and onto wet and muddy, albeit solid, ground. “Gotta get ya to focus up. Could be all sorts ‘round here.”

“And somehow I think you’re still the most dangerous.” She squeezed his hand. “You alright?” He offered her a smooth grin as she looked at him with big eyes, the Ghoul bringing her hand up to his ruined lips he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact.

“Other than feelin' a little jealous I might only be the second most deadly person in this outfit, I'm feelin' pretty damn good.” He felt her shiver again, eyes glossy and dark with the promise of more. “You cold, baby? Need someone to warm ya up?”

“Yeah,” she murmured idly. “I should probably find a nice gentleman to help me with that.”

“Don’t see any ‘round here,” he murmured lowly against her knuckles. Their eyes didn’t stray from each other. “Know the perfect Ghoul for the job, though.” She felt warm- very warm- in his hand. Warmer than her usual burn of a blush or heat after a battle. Warmer than him.

(She had taken on a lot of rads today, he thought to himself again.)

The Geiger counter had been steadily clicking their entire time near the lake. Even after getting to solid ground, it was still slowly but steadily getting louder and faster.

“Think we gotta hole up for the night, sunshine,” he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her in, letting her body sag against him. “Can get to shootin’ whatever needs shootin’ after a night ‘a debauchery.”

“Indecent thoughts already, Mr. Mayor?” He squeezed a handful of her ass in response before he pulled her along as quietly as he could in the early night, the sun dipping below the horizon. He could practically see her descent into grumpy Nora.

(The rads really must be getting to her, he thought. She always got this way when she felt miserable.)

They carefully and quietly made their way to a small treehouse built not far from where they hobbled along. He kept a firm grip on her hand, watching a flash of sickly glowing green skitter across the mud a short ways away. The Glowing Mirelurk seemed preoccupied chasing a radstag doe, though, allowing the couple to slowly make their way up the rickety ramp. Nora let out a light, pleased noise at the sleeping bag in decent condition in the corner of the small structure.

He helped her put her pack down, stuffing their bags into the corner. She watched him with glazed eyes, pallor overtaking her complexion. As he started shimmying the dripping frock off his body, she made an appreciative noise. When he turned to meet her eyes after tossing the old coat over a post to dry, she had her vault suit opened down to her stomach, tits barely contained by her bra and practically on display. She had a hungry look in her eyes, despite the pooling of blood in her gums that he caught when she shot him a sharp smile.

She was pulled out of her reverie, though, jumping as thunder rumbled above them, the sky suddenly opening up. He put his tricorn on the post as well before slinking up to her, his fingers catching on the edges of her zipper and pulling gently. He could feel her burning gaze across his dirty blouse, the sleeves billowing faintly in the sudden winds, cinched at wrists with a slight ruffle accenting the end of each arm. Could feel her eyes trailing across his revealed chest and collar, her hand reaching up to trace the creases and crevices that were painted across his body. He started to pull her armor off, piling the leather and metal in another corner. Nora slowly but surely pulled off her vault suit, following closely behind the removal of her layers of protection. When she finally was down to her underwear, he crowded her into the corner.

“John,” she huffed, her fingers closing around a belt loop and pulling him close, a direct contradiction to her firm but light tone. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Took on too many rads, baby,” he hummed quietly, fingers tracing down her sleeve, colors muted in the darkness. “Gotta get some RadAway in ya.” His teeth grazed her jaw, hands settled on her waist. “Then maybe some other things.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to insist as she swayed on her feet. “Just need to sleep it off.” He made an unimpressed noise, tugging her towards the sleeping bag.

“Not gettin’ outta this,” he murmured firmly, squeezing her hips. “Down ya go, sunshine. I’ll take care ‘a ya, don’t you worry.” He waited until she was sat on the yellow sleeping bag before turning his back on her pouting form to dig through their packs. “Gotta getcha cooled off, too.”

“I can think of one way to cool me off,” she said lowly, her flirtatious tone at odds with her displeased expression. “I’m already sweating, besides. That should be plenty. And the wind coming in-”

“You were burnin’ when I just touched ya,” he replied firmly. “Where the hell did you put your RadAway?”

“Musta run out,” Nora grumbled, obstinate.

“Don’t act dumb. It’s unattractive,” he snarked back.

“Rich coming from the Ghoul who didn’t figure out that I was the Silver Shroud ‘til we saved Kent from Sinjin.” He let out a quiet curse at the memory, eyes shutting tight and teeth gritting as he remembered the smooth, deadly threat she had purred out before she’d shot the bastard, each of his limbs exploding in a splatter of fine red mist in seconds.

(“What happens is this. Everyone that points a gun at me, dies. Every. Last. One.” The memory stayed nice and fresh in his mind. He swallowed down a sudden mouthful of saliva at the thought. The amount of times he’d gotten off to those words should have been shameful. Didn’t mean he was going to stop.)

“Never thanked Kent for convincin’ you to wear that sexy get-up,” he mused. “Though, I’m not sure if it was appreciated more by me, or him.”

“Oh stop,” she grumbled. “Just ‘cause you get all hot and bothered doesn’t mean he does, too.” She snorted. “Not everyone wants to get into my vault suit.”

“Dunno, sunshine. I’ve known ‘ole Kent-boy for a while. Never seen him look at anyone like that.”

“He was just thankful-“

“Yeah, sure. Was too busy starin’ at your ass anyways. ‘N who could blame him? You coulda been a Deathclaw for all I knew. Gotta give it to ya, you were real distracting in that outfit,” his voice got low, predatory as he angled his body in a half-turn towards her to let his eyes lock into hers. “Wanted to eat you alive then, still wanna eat you alive now.” He had no shame as he stared at the peaks of her nipples, rising from beneath the thin material of her bra. His jaw ached.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that,” she mumbled, cheeks burning.

He didn’t look away.

He clocked a full body shiver pass through her, goosebumps exploding across the landscape of her smooth skin like fireworks until she was covered.

“Focus up, baby.”

“Check the ammo pouch,” she grumped, laying back on the sleeping bag with a huff, cheeks burning hotter. He was endlessly amused at her attitude.

“Why would it be with your ammo?” he nudged, poking and prodding to rile up the irritable Vaultie.

“‘Cause it’s where I put it,” Nora bit back. He chuckled lowly as he dug through the pouch to grab the IV bag that had settled at the bottom.

“Doesn’t get her dick wet for a few days and starts gettin’ all bratty,” Hancock mused as he straightened out, grunting as his back cracked.

“You’re hot,” she protested. “Especially when you take off your clothes, asshole. Like putting a cake in front of me and telling me I can’t eat it. But the cake is you and your skinny ass.” He dropped to his knees next to her, fingers brushing up her inked arm again with borderline reverence.

“You keep talkin’ about my skinny ass and I’m gonna get a complex,” he said, nonplussed. “And unfortunately for both of us, keepin’ your pussy nice ‘n full ain’t gonna keep your gorgeous ass alive.” She grumbled at him, goosebumps still spread across her body as the ruined whorls of his fingertips traced the twists and turns of her sleeve.

“You’re just keeping me around for my butt.”

“Sure am,” he hummed back, unperturbed as he grasped the needle connected to the chem. “Ready?” She nodded and looked away, eyes closed tight. His practiced hands slid the catheter into her vein smoothly as his coal eyes took in the creases of her face. With her eyes squeezed that tight, he could trace the crows feet pulling at the corners of her eyes, her wrinkled nose, the creases in her forehead. God, she was pretty.

(He was so fucked.)

“All done,” he announced as he hooked the bag on a post above them. Though her eyes opened, her nose stayed wrinkled. He chuckled as she huffed at him again, pushing at him as he clambered on top of her. “C’mere, lemme cool ya down.”

“Go away,” she whined half-heartedly. “I’m fine. And your pants are wet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed her complaints, taking her face in his hands. “Your gums are practically white, sunshine. Gotta keep ya nice and still, wait for the RadAway to work.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted again, trying to wiggle out from under him. His grip on her face tightened minutely. “Lemme up.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby,” he asserted, leaning down to start peppering kisses across her nose and cheeks. She tried to wave him away with a snort of amusement, but he persisted, despite her attempts to disengage from him. “God you smell good.”

“Feelin’ rad-happy?” she teased with a bite. He reached up to smooth the wrinkled skin of her nose out, fingers scraping down to hold her face between his hands again. He tugged her head back, gently, so he could brush his ruined lips against hers, sharing breath.

“Can’t help it when you smell like that,” he answered. “If you’re a good girl and stay nice and still ‘til the RadAway’s done, I’ll give you a treat,” he purred, squeezing her jaw lightly. “Don’tcha wanna treat, baby?” Her eyes narrowed at him, grumbling. With every curse under her breath at the Ghoul on top of her, her mouth brushed his, a tease of soft skin against striated tissue. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.” She made another face at him, muttering something along the lines of goddamn horny Ghouls and treating me like I’m a damn pet.

“‘Course I’m gonna treat ya that way, baby. Ain’t you my pet?” She nipped at his lack of a bottom lip, a dark grin spreading across his face. “Feral thing. ‘N all mine, huh?” At that, his breath stuttered the tiniest bit and his fingers dipped harshly into her cheeks. “I gotta take better care ‘a my pretty girl, makin’ me worry all the time. You got me all hot and bothered- and not in the fun way.”

“What’s got you so anxious all of the sudden?” she let out a huff through her nose as he glanced a teasing brush of his mouth against hers. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Dunwich Borers fiasco, would it?” His grip tightened, which seemed to be all the confirmation she needed. “I’m fine, Hancock.”

“Couldn’t get ya outta that pool, sunshine,” he rasped, tilting her head to the side to press his face into her cheek and inhale sharply. “They were tryna keep ya for themselves.” The flashes of him pulling Nora halfway out of the pool before invisible hands dragged her right back in was still fresh in his mind. The frantic beating of his heart as he fought to keep a hold of her, her eyes wide with fear, the air escaping her lungs as an unseen force pulled and pulled and pulled-

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. He let out a quiet exhale as she grounded him in the present. “Now lemme go.”

“Never,” he breathed, tongue peeking out to collect a drop of sweat that travelled lazily down her face. “‘Specially after all that bullshit- the Pickman Gallery bullshit, that Sight bullshit- like the universe is tryna take you away from me.” He let out a heavy breath against her.

“Some weird visual hallucinations don’t mean I’m gonna disappear,” she murmured, her hands running up his ribs, fingers digging into the damp blouse. “And it doesn’t mean I have some weird superpower, either. It was just Mama Murphy being Mama Murphy.”

“Dunno. She’s spooky sometimes.”

“Not gonna like me anymore if I’m spooky?”

“Never said that,” his shoulders slowly relaxed from their taut position up near his disfigured ears, dropping slowly with every brush of her fingers. He hadn’t even realized he’d tensed up. “Think it’s hot when you’re freaky.”

“I’m not freaky,” she protested as he kissed her briefly. She whined as he immediately pressed his face against her cheek again. “I’m just some person. Nothing special.” He let out a hum of fake consideration before doubling down.

“Nah, I know you well enough. You’re a little freak, ain’tcha?”

“You just licked the sweat off of my face.”

“And it was delicious. All full’a rads and everything,” Hancock hummed. “C’mon, sunshine. I’ve seen ya with those books Daisy asks ya to return.”

“I’m freaky because I read books? That’s hypocritical, Mr. a Ghoul’s best friend tends to be a book, no one else usually talks to us.”

“Nah, it’s ’cause you read every single overdue book we find. Obsessively. 'N hold it 'bout two inches from your nose with this adorable lil' look on your face.” He pressed another fleeting kiss to her lips before pulling away again. She groaned. “And talkin’ to people’s not a problem I've had myself. ‘Specially with a best friend like you.”

“Everyone needs hobbies, Hancock.” He chuckled at that, dragging his mouth across the soft plain of her cheek again. “Don’t sweet talk me.” She shivered as his hands migrated south, tracing her naked sides. “And get off- your pants are making my underwear wet-“

“Think there might be a different reason for that, love,” he snickered as she pushed at his shoulders roughly. He leaned back, hands roaming up to her chest to take handfuls of her tits, squeezing and molding them to his grip. She grumbled, trying to smack his hands away. “So bratty,” he chuckled low as he acquiesced, slowly standing with a short groan and hovering over her to slide his boots and dripping pants off and throw them over another post next to him. Her eyes drifted immediately to the angry cock bobbing between his legs. “Happy now?” he purred, settling back down to straddle her waist, the brush of now-chilled skin making his length twitch. He watched her tongue flick out with dark eyes.

She didn’t look away when she noticed she was caught.

(Match made in fucking heaven.)

Chapter Text

“You’re startin’ to feel real chilly, Vaultsicle. Practically freezing.”

“I’m still sweating,” she protested. “You sure this isn’t just a Ghoul thing?”

“Could be,” he mused quietly, taking her face in his hands once more and turning it this way and that. His thumb reached out to brush across her bottom lip, gaze on her mouth as her breath gently rushed over the digit. “What a pretty mouth,” he continued quietly, his tongue peeking out. He could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she slid her hands up to the legs bracketing her hips, digging her fingers into his thighs.

“Always forget how big those hands are,” she mumbled, suddenly quiet, words breathy. He leered at her.

“Yeah? You like that?” His voice was gravel, his finger retreating from her lip to trace her jaw. She just nodded silently, head barely bobbing, entranced. “Ya like it when I use ‘em on you?” She looked away pointedly, her eyes dragging back to him as he squeezed her jaw lightly, before flicking to the side again. “Eyes on me, Nora.” She was recalcitrant for a moment too long, the Ghoul above her leaning closer. “You gonna answer my question?”

“You’re trying to embarrass me,” she murmured, biting the inside of her cheek.

“How’s that?” he hummed as her fingers scraped against the burn marks on his thighs that were intertwined with the dips and valleys of his ruined skin. “‘Cause I’m sweet talkin’ you?”

“No, I-“ Her eyes slid to his, her train of thought disappearing into thin air as their gazes locked. “Fuck you,” she cursed at him weakly.

“What?” he laughed.

“You- you-“ Her fingers curled into those burn marks, pulling her now-watery gaze down to his legs. His cock.

“Fell asleep holding a joint one too many times,” Hancock explained off-handedly before pulling her attention back to his face. “C’mere, gorgeous,” he cooed. She huffed again, cheeks and chest burning under his hands.

“Incorrigible,” she grumped with no malice.

“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before,” he disregarded her light jab. “Gimme a kiss,” he breathed against her lips before pressing his mouth to hers gently, thumb drifting up to rub along her cheekbone. They were lazy with their affections, her nails scraping down his thighs lightly- a sensation he could barely register. Her tongue swept carefully into his mouth, slow in a way that screamed intimacy. Hancock wasn’t a big feelings guy- but he also wasn’t typically a big relationship guy either. He was happy to let his freak flag fly through a slew of partners. Nora had sunk her vicious little claws into him, though, heart and soul, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake her.

(Not that he wanted to, his mind supplied lowly. He wanted to gorge himself on her, every moment of every day. He was sure he could classify his feelings towards her as obsessive if they weren’t reciprocated. Did she realize that? he wondered. Did she see how fucked up he was? Did she know she was entangled, willingly, with a predator?)

She nipped at him abruptly, sharp and sudden. He pulled away by inches, his gaze caught on her twinkling eyes, her lips splitting into a violent grin.

(Yeah, he mused. Yeah, she knew. And she didn’t give a fuck.)

“I want you,” she murmured. He practically purred as he pressed another series of kisses to her mouth. Those sweet kisses, lazy and warm, quickly and progressively became more and more passionate, each glance of their lips against each other firmer and longer and wetter.

“Can’t fuck ya,” he breathed. “You already got too many rads in that gorgeous body.” She grunted, fingers digging into the crevices in his legs, making indents in the destroyed tissue. Making a home for herself under his skin.

(Fuck.)

“Fuck,” he breathed, his thoughts weaseling their way straight from his brain to his mouth. She chased him when he pulled away, one of his hands sliding down her body as he sat up straight, straddling her hips. His fingers scraped down her chest and between the cups of the scrap of fabric she called a bra. He plucked at the small piece at the front connecting the two cups, eyes tracing up to her face again. She seemed to catch on to his intentions quickly, her hands flying up to stop him.

“No-!”

Riiiiiiiip!

“Fucker,” she hissed as her tits spilled out of the now-destroyed bra. “That was my only good one!”

“And I pulled it apart like wet tissue,” he mused. “Not doin’ those beautiful tits any favors, either. Or in your words, no support.” He brushed a thumb over her nipple, able to pull away before she smacked him. He couldn’t help but clock the twitching of her hips, though, his length twitching again in interest. “God, just look at you.”

“Don’t tease,” she whined, wiggling under him. “Either fuck me or don’t.”

“Those ain’t the only two options, baby.” His hands reached up to fondle her again, squeezing her chest and pinching her nipples.

“Stop,” Nora huffed. “I haven’t dumped yet-“

“Know a great place to do it,” he hummed. “Makes me wonder if you got any of those rads in those perfect tits.”

“You are not sucking rads out of my breasts,” she hissed.

“Maybe next time,” he mused, eyes locked on her chest. He tweaked the peaks of her breasts again, coaxing a quiet, high pitched whine from her, her hips lifting and looking for friction. “Sensitive girl, huh?”

“Hancock-“ she warned as he leaned over her breasts, letting a long string of spit drop from his mouth to her cleavage. She whined, louder this time.

“Shh, don’t wanna wake the crabs, huh?” He knew she could still hear the skittering of the shelled monsters below and around them. “C’mon, sunshine. Show me that tongue.”

“Make me,” she grumbled, then immediately realized her mistake. Her eyes got wide as he looked down at her with hunger.

(Open season.)

“Oh no, Nora. I ain’t gonna make you do anything. But you’re gonna beg me to do it.” Her lips parted slightly to let out quiet pants as he shifted forward, his legs bracketing her ribs and his ass settling over her diaphragm. He started tugging at the turgid cock between his legs, eyes drifting lazily between her chest and her face. “What a pretty picture. Think we could make it prettier, though.” They locked eyes for a moment before she started shuffling under him, her hands flying through the air to smack away his attempts at restraining her, his hands continuously reaching to gather her wrists.

“You fucking-“ she hissed as he managed to grab her, collecting her hands in one of his. He made sure to have her arms frame the outside of her chest before pulling them down to push her tits together between her restricted limbs. He pressed those hands firmly under his sack to keep them out of his way, his jerks getting rougher and faster. He let out a muted groan before taking hold of himself at the base and sliding the leaky tip up to her chest, positioning himself at the bottom of the valley between her full tits. “Don’t you dare-“ her voice was suddenly frail, breathy. Half-hearted in her protestations.

“Ohh, don't I dare?” he almost mocked, supremely pleased at the sight of her pupils dilating at the first scrape of skin against skin, his cock making a home between her breasts. “Shit,” he breathed out, eyelids fighting to stay open as his dick slid through the small pool of spit that gathered in the soft, warm space. “Gonna fuck your tits. How’s that sound, sunshine? You want that?” She practically flinched, lips parting just enough for him to hear her sharp exhale, nipples pebbled and fingers doing their best to stretch in his grasp. She nodded emphatically. “Lemme hear it.”

“Yes,” she whined, thumb brushed his balls and he hissed between his teeth. “Please. Please fuck my tits.”

“Protests so much and immediately bends over for me with a little petting, huh? Cock get ya that hot ‘n bothered,” Hancock breathed. “Any cock’ll do, right? Just need one on ya at all times. Dirty girl.” She shook her head with a stutter, hair coming loose.

“Just yours- your cock, please-“

“Good, baby. Real good,” he cooed, his cock beginning to rock slowly between her breasts. “Know you’re mine already. Just like I’m yours.” His began thrusting in earnest, the hand not restraining her wrists reaching up to grab her jaw. “Want your treat? Gotta give ya somethin’ for all the trouble ya went through for me today. Savin’ my ass like that,” he groaned, the memory of the adrenaline, the maniacal glee on her face as she tore into the fishman with her bare hands. “Tongue out, love.”

“You don’t owe me anything-“ She didn’t move fast enough for him, his fingers pressing firmly into her cheeks, making her lips puff out. She narrowed her eyes at him for just a second before her tongue slowly slid out, the tip just barely visible. He caught the twinkle in her eye and huffed in dark amusement.

“Don’t be cute.” He squeezed harder, pulling a whine from her as the rest of her tongue snaked out. “Good girl. Now open that mouth and lemme fuck it.” He led her head through a nod, her nose wrinkled, her eyes burning. Nevertheless, she tucked her chin when he released her, lips parted and tongue extended. His hand slid to her hair. As his rocking gained more and more momentum, the mushroomed tip popped out from her cleavage, briefly tapping her tongue at each slide. She moaned as it worked its way further and further into her open mouth with each thrust. He let out a low, rough groan as he felt her mouth attempting to close around the tip at each roll of his hips. “So good, baby. Gonna warm ya right up.”

She let out a shaky breath, the rush of air over his wet cock making his hips stutter. At each pass of his head touching her wet tongue, she let out a quiet grunt, eyes slowly sinking closed. A gentle tug on her hair pulled them open again, big and wet under his gaze. His breathing picked up.

“Eyes on me,” he growled again, hips smacking against the bottom of her breasts, his focus split between her eyes, her mouth-

(Goddamn, that mouth-)

-and her bouncing tits. His rhythm was steady despite his inclination to pick up pace and force. He barely held in his groan when her thumb started scraping his perineum, his grip tightening on her wrists. She was anything but dissuaded, though, keeping her mouth open, drool dripping down her chin with each thrust. He slid his hand down to cup her neck, supporting her head to keep it at an angle that allowed smoother contact with her tongue. His breath picked up to a pant, his grip on her hands disappearing in favor of skimming his fingers up her abdomen, over the hills and valleys of her body to grasp onto one of her compressed breasts, thumb gentle as it worked over her nipple. She let out a weak, high-pitched whine that was immediately cut short, his grip on the back of her neck squeezing lightly in warning.

“John,” she whispered as the sounds of skittering became more apparent, the quiet echoes of their adorations starting to catch in the breeze.

“God, Nora,” he choked out. “You’re fuckin’ freezing.” Her skin was now pure ice against his ruined nerve endings, a shiver working its way up his spine. The perceived temperature difference between the two of them made him almost painfully harder, his eyes fighting not to roll back into his head as that pressure at the base of his spine coiled in one last warning of his impending release.

“Gimme it,” she murmured quietly, so quietly that he almost missed it over the blood rushing through his ears. “Right there, honey. Gimme it- I need it-” He choked on a low groan, thrusting through his orgasm. His cum spilled down the valley of her breasts, drops coating her from her chin to the bottom of her tits. He practically burned with his release, his cock twitching as it emptied on her body. Seconds blurred together, his body’s suspension in pleasure endless in the half-minute he rode through. He vaguely heard her sharp inhale, her stuttered breath rattling her chest under him. He panted as his hips slowly stopped sawing against her irritated skin, his thumb brushing the back of her neck.

“Did great, love. Now stay still, lemme clean you up,” he breathed, eyes drifting down from her face to the smear of cum he had so kindly gifted her, dripping down her body. He lifted his hips to gently pull her hands free, hand carefully brushing across the irritated skin of where he held her. She let out a long, deep sigh as her muscles began to relax under the tender brush of his skin against hers, though she flinched when his thumb rolled over her nipple again. He leaned forward and could feel how she held her breath in her chest, eyes half-lidded as they followed his descent until they would have been nose to nose.

(If he had had one, of course, he wanted to laugh. He liked it better this way, though. Meant he could get closer.)

“Please don’t give me a tongue bath,” she murmured half-heartedly in the space between their mouths, her hands sliding down to rest on his thighs. “I fell in a lake.”

“Adds seasoning,” he deflected offhandedly, thumb stroking up and down the side of her neck carefully. She practically melted in his hands. It gave him a clear picture of her faux protest, the darkening of her own gaze a flashing sign in the low light. “And don’t you worry, baby. You’ll get yours.”

“I don’t always have to-“

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” his voice dropped, tone deadly. His eyes shone with that feral sheen, fingers pinching her nipple. She hissed and tried to wiggle away as he let go of the peak, his thumb following up to gently brush over the irritated nub. “I ain’t leavin’ you high ‘n dry.”

“John, it’s not a tit-for-tat thing. I don’t have to cum every time. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” He stared at her, hard. The silence hung between them, the tension sudden and thick. Despite it, her body was still lax under him, and his hands were soft as they stayed where they were. Stroking, rubbing. “Remember that radstorm? You almost ate me out for an entire afternoon and you didn’t cum. Not once.”

“Came the next morning. Immediately, thanks to someone’s hot, wet-“

“Do you understand?” she asked, keeping them on track. “You’re right, anyhow. I took on too many rads and I can't handle more until the RadAway kicks in.” She glanced above her to see the chem had finished, the bag empty. “Honestly, I’m halfway surprised that I wasn’t showing that many symptoms of radiation poisoning.” His mind drifted to the first few times they had had sex, the day of rest and recovery she had needed after each one.

Yes, the two seemed to match each other in hedonistic tendencies the bedroom. But she hated when he didn’t cum inside of her. Practically threw a fit the time or two he hadn’t done so- and one wasn’t even on purpose. He couldn’t say he was much better, staring mournfully at the time at what she called a wasted load. He leaned forward and kissed her firmly as his exhausted cock twitched. He pulled away from her lips and slowly moved down her body, his mouth glancing over her soft cheek, tongue lolling out to lick up the spend that had splattered around her mouth.

“How ‘bout we make a deal,” he murmured against her sternum, dragging his tongue through his spend. “I’ll clean ya up 'n then we'll see where you’re at, huh? Help ya relax.” She hummed under his mouth as he skated down the valley of her breasts.

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment, hands sliding up to his shoulders. The sky shook with thunder again, eclipsing the feeling of his heart beating out of his chest. It didn’t seem to do the same for her, though- he could feel the pounding in her chest every time his mouth made contact with her breasts.

“And if you don’t wanna, you know I’m not gonna do shit without your say-so,” he asserted, pressing a kiss or two on the sides of her breasts. One of her hands glanced over the back of his head, pulling his focus away from her chest for just a moment. It wasn’t easy to make out her features in the low light of the lamp that had been burning next to them, but he managed.

He kind of wished he hadn’t.

There was something swirling in those depths of hers, a look of shared pain, of understanding. Of what he’d done in the past, of how he saw sex. How he saw intimacy. And maybe he was just projecting, but the sudden compassion in her gaze made his grip on her ribs tighten. Like she saw right through him.

“My sweet Ghoul, always taking care of me,” she let out a hushed murmur, nails glancing over the crevices of his neck and the back of his head. “I wouldn’t be getting through any of this without you, honey. Don’t you know that? You took one look at me and decided I was worth a shot. If you wanna talk about saving someone’s ass-“ She let out a weak grunt as his tongue ran through another pool of his cum before those big, dark eyes of his locked back onto her face. The inherent comfort of his concupiscent tendencies were just enhanced the longer they spent together. Like she was slowly peeling the layers back from his already half-rotted skin to get to the meat of him.

(Yeah, the sex was great. But for some reason, she seemed to care. Really care. He didn’t know why to do with it. But god was it intoxicating.)

“You keep… gifting me with your attentions,” she continued lowly, as if trying to not spook him. Or not be found by the Mirelurks below them. He wasn’t sure and didn’t have the time to dwell on it, locked in to what she was saying. “Supporting me through all this craziness. I hope I do the same for you. You deserve to be advocated for. To feel- I dunno. Safe.” He blinked slowly at her, the shine of the pits of his eyes a slight twinkle in the low light.

“I should be sayin’ that to you,” he murmured, sinking lower to lick up the last line of spend on her sternum. His eyes didn’t deviate from her face. “Without you, I’d be in the gutter somewhere. Getting gnawed on by Radroaches-“ Her nails dug into him, almost as if it was a reflex.

“No,” she asserted, her voice suddenly firm, as if daring him to fight her on this. “No, you wouldn’t. I don’t make you more than what you are already. You do that. You’re just as tenacious now as you’d be otherwise. I was just a convenient excuse to get out and stretch your legs.” He grumbled against her skin, resting his chin on the spit-slicked skin between her breasts. “And before you say shit- taking time to travel doesn’t make you a bad mayor. At least, I don’t think so. And I don’t think your constituents think so, either.” Her grip relaxed on him, thumb brushing over the back of his scalp again. His eyelids drooped. “I don’t want you to-“ she cut herself off, biting her bottom lip.

“Go on.” He wasn’t even embarrassed that his tone was so breathy.

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” she asserted. “I just- I dunno. You have intrinsic worth, John. You deserve to know that. I just wanted to tell you how I see it. How I see you.” She offered him a weak smile, eyes straying away from his face, bashful. “Y’know?” she ended lamely.

His chest ached.

“Nora,” he let out a hushed breath of her name, hands sliding up to frame her jaw, to gently tug her gaze back over to him. He just looked at her, tracing every feature of her face. Trying to cement this moment with her into his mind. “God.”

“Sorry,” she offered weakly. “That was a lot. You’re just- you’re very important to me. And I, very selfishly, want you to know that. I’m in your corner, okay?” His grip got tighter on her face, pulling a quiet whine from the Sole Survivor. He couldn’t formulate a response, his throat thick with cotton, the passion behind her words overwhelming.

(Not a speck of dishonesty on that beautiful face, he mused to himself.)

It was in these instances that he was reminded, almost painfully, that she had been in his corner from their first time traveling together. That they fell in so easily with each other. That she was his biggest cheerleader out in the Wasteland, bar none.

(And maybe his biggest supporter ever.)

“Can’t say shit like that,” he croaked. “Gonna make it harder to let ya go when you go runnin’ around without me.”

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered, confident. “You don’t need me to be okay.”

“I dunno about that.”

“John.”

“You make it easier,” he admitted. “To be okay.” She offered him a half-smile, melancholy.

“Then we’ll just hafta work on that. The both of us.”

Chapter Text

“You got me presents?”

“You got me presents?”

They looked at each other as they spoke simultaneously, bewildered for only a moment before silly smiles adorned their faces. He took another two hits of Jet, the smoke floating between the two of them and escaping into the downpour around them.

“What brought this on?” she asked, amused.

“Heh. Could ask you the same thing,” he chuckled.

“Nick and I were talking about it the other day. It got me thinking, is all.” He snorted, pulling a curious look from the women before him. They were curled together, sitting huddled up against the wall of the small treehouse, the sleeping bag wrapped around them as the storm raged on around them. They had both completed a cursory wipe down, scraping most of the day off their bodies. She had slid on a tank top and some extra underwear from her pack, which he bemoaned just a little bit. And when he had moved to take off his own top, she had stopped his hands with an innocent look, running her fingers along his protruding collarbone. He had just pulled her close and kissed her silly.

“No shit,” he hummed. “Had a similar conversation with him when you were out ‘n about in Diamond City. When you left me behind in his office.”

“You mean when you were still sleeping?”

“You weren’t there when I woke up! Got so lonely, sunshine.”

(He was not whining.)

(Okay- maybe a little.)

“Now- you gonna finally let me take off my shirt?” he asked as he shoved the kicked inhaler into his pack, the Sole Survivor rolling her eyes playfully at him. She shrugged.

“I’m not stopping you,” she said unconvincingly. “But it’s not my fault that you look so good in it. Wearing it with nothing else on is just a bonus, of course.” He chuckled, digging through his bag. He barely felt the light scrape of her nails over his thigh, but hummed at the sensation nonetheless.

“Consider it an additional gift,” he cooed. “But explain somethin’ to me. What’s the occasion? Not that I’m complainin’, ‘course.”

“Could ask you the same thing,” she replied, elbow-deep in her pack. At his sudden silence, she glanced up. “What?”

“I don’t- heh,” he tried not to simper. “Nicky made me realize that I don’t know when your birthday is.” She blinked at him. “Lemme be a sap, Nora.”

“No, I just-“ she offered him a shy smile. “I don’t know yours, either. So I- uh. Got you some stuff. Guess Nick and I had the same conversation.” They just stared at each other for a moment before collapsing into amused tittering, practically falling over each other to keep quiet. Their hands had shot out in practical unison to seal over the other’s mouth, eyes crinkling in mirth and bellies shaking in poorly contained laughter. They petered out slowly, his fingers catching her cheek in a pinch before pulling away to keep digging through his gear. Her own digits brushed over his cheek adoringly before doing the same.

“When is your birthday?”

“‘Bout 6 months ago-“ She interrupted him with a loud snort before slapping her own hand over her mouth, eyes big. They held still for a moment, listening for impending skitters. It was silent, the sound most likely carried away by the strong winds.

They released a breath, Nora pulling her hand away with a deep exhale.

“Mine too,” she explained. He offered her a predatory grin.

“‘Course it is,” he purred. She wrinkled her nose at him playfully.

“Of course you’re a Leo,” she snipped back. He let out a sharp heh.

“Don’t throw that astrology shit at me. You are too.”

“Love that somehow that’s the stuff that’s survived nuclear fallout.” She scratched her forehead before looking down into her bag perched in front of her again, letting out a noise of accomplishment when she found what she was looking for.

“You wanna go first?” he offered.

“Go first receiving, or go first giving?”

“I’m always happy to give first-“

“You are truly something else,” she scoffed back with a soft smile and a lack of malice. “I want to temper your expectations, though,” she explained quietly. “These aren’t big or anything. Just stuff I thought you’d like. Little stuff."

“You didn’t hafta get me anything,” he argued. “Already surpassed expectations, ya feel me?” She held his eyes for a moment before nodding once. “Don’t make me get sentimental now.”

“I think we’re well past that,” she mused. “Okay, well- if you’re so used to giving first, I think it’s time for you to receive.” She wiggled out a small, dark wooden box in impeccable condition. She handed it to him, cheeks burning and a slight smile spreading across her face. “Happy birthday.” His heart did a few flips before diving straight into his stomach, which joined in on the acrobatics.

(He didn’t give a shit what it was, he thought shakily. She got him something. Thought about him, about what he liked. It could be a pile of radioactive goo and he’d still be ecstatic. She thought about him. Considerate little thing, he thought fondly.)

His ruined fingers took the box carefully, glancing up at her before unhooking the pretty bronze latch that kept it closed. It was the length of two of his hands, unscuffed and almost a bit shiny in the low light, the lacquer on the wood preserved. He ran his fingers along the lip before disengaging the latch and opening the pretty little box. The smell of tobacco hit him immediately, three perfectly rolled cigars sitting in a velvet-cushioned box. The ridges of where his eyebrows used to be raised, the skin of his forehead bunching and pulling, highlighting the burned skin. The lettering on the inside of the lid looked like it was burned in, the elegant script spelling out Hom Dulce Cigars, 2077.

“Found them in Jamaica Plains. And, uh- wait a sec-“ She shoved her hand back in her pack, digging around for another moment before pulling a large glass bottle out by its skinny neck. “This, too.” She offered him the bottle of bourbon with a half smile. He took it silently, eyes tracing both items with a critical eye, inspecting them. When he peeked up at her, she was practically gnawing on her lip, gaze down and away.

(Was she nervous? The amusement mixed seamlessly with affection.)

“So… yeah,” she murmured after a minute of silence, her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles.

“Nora,” he rasped, voice sandpaper.

“It’s nothing special,” she insisted. “Just little stuff, y’know?”

“How’d I get someone so sweet, huh?” he breathed, putting the items to the side to lunge at her. He cut off her squeak with his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to her lips, hands cupping her cheeks. She melted after a mere second, fingers scrambling to scrape against his chest, finding homes in the crevices that painted his body. He pulled away to look at her, paused, then immediately kissed her again. Like he was bursting with affection for her, the only outlet being his ruined lips pressed to hers. They locked lips like they would never get the chance to again, like it wouldn’t matter if they could never say another word to each other- the emotions conveyed in each swipe of tongue and the press of lips were abundant enough to propel them through the post-nuclear Wasteland. They pulled back only when they couldn’t suck enough air into their lungs, breathing heavily as they pressed their foreheads together.

When he started pulling away, he realized with a chuckle that he had backed her into a corner and practically trapped her there, sure- but her arms wrapped around his neck was really what kept them glued together. Not letting an inch between their chests, a look of ardor in her eyes.

(Like a feral kitten, he mused.)

She still spat and clawed at him, wholly with affection, a fight to cover up the tenderness of her heart. A coping mechanism. Still passionate, just a new way to show it. Adaptation. He wondered vaguely if she had learned it anywhere- learned it from him, even- though he had to admit, she wore this new life well.

(Or did she always have this anger in her? Building with each witness of baseless prosecution in society- enraged at the way things had been.)

“Sweet thing,” he purred, throat just slightest bit tight. “Indulgent thing.”

“For you,” she murmured back, quiet.

(She was practically baring her neck to him. He held her quiet supplication close to his heart.)

“My turn,” he rasped, pressing a few firm kisses along her cheek, gifting her a light nip as he pulled away. She wrinkled her nose at him for just a moment before her expression melted back into something much more domestic. He settled back next to her and pulled the sleeping bag around their shoulders again. She snuggled back into his side, fingers clenching intermittently in his blouse.

(Aw, he thought fondly. She’s nervous.)

“Gotta gimme a minute, alright?” he asked, looking at her. He pulled out a scrap of cloth, usually used for Molotovs, and held it up. “To make sure ya don’t peek.” She looked between him and the cloth before nodding. She angled herself towards him, still clutching onto his shirt as his arms wrapped around her to cover her eyes. He couldn’t help but gently slide his fingers down the back of her neck, his eyelids drooping at the warmth that encompassed his body.

(She trusted him. The realization was a bit more jarring than he would admit. Sure, she told him as much- and not infrequently. But it was shit like this that really drove the sentiment home.)

He only held her there for a minute, thumb brushing over the pulse of her artery before withdrawing. He pulled her hands away from his shirt, gently brushing his ruined mouth over her knuckles before settling them in her lap. Nora made a quiet noise of displeasure at the lack of contact but otherwise sat there as patiently as she could manage, her fingers twisting together and her teeth embedded into her lip.

And he set to work.

Now, Hancock never really fancied himself any sort of gunsmith. He knew how to shoot almost anything he could get his hands on, sure. But modifications and the like usually fell more into Nora’s capable hands, the Ghoul usually stumbling upon her in KL-E-0’s shop, hammering away at a piece of metal, adding scopes and grips and the like to make her own destructive works of art. So, in all honesty, he couldn’t even say he was embarrassed by the fact that he had gone to the Assaultron for help on his pet project. He began his current reconstruction by lighting a cigarette and holding the filter between his teeth, puffing away and calming his nerves. He had practiced this- he had practiced this, goddamnit- and he wasn’t going to psych himself out just because it was performance time. He started pulling out each piece, connecting adjoining parts and building the weapon bit by bit. He kept glancing up at his companion who had started picking at her cuticles blindly, her bottom lip almost raw. He held back a fond smile before looking back down to finish screwing the pieces together.

He gave it a once over- then a twice over- and barely stopped himself from inspecting it a third time. He just sat there, gun in his lap for a second, before putting out his cigarette and awkwardly deciding to put his gift in her lap. She scrambled to grab onto it, her fingers immediately starting to trace each curve and bump, lips barely parted in wonder.

“John-“ He cut her off before she could finish, leaning forward to kiss her once more, firmly, and reaching around her head to pull the blindfold off. She blinked a few times and squinted her eyes to reacclimatize to the lantern light before locking her gaze onto his face, not even sparing a look down at what he gave her.

“…well?” he prodded as she just stared at him. “You got me on the edge’a my seat, baby. Gonna take a look?” Her fingers continued to glance up and down the weapon. She nodded silently for a moment, looking like she was trying to put a thought into words. When she finally did look down, she got tense, shoulders hunching. He could see her muscle coiled, tensed. Her eyes didn’t move from the gun in her lap for a long moment, eyebrows pinched in what almost looked like a melancholy expression. He could almost hear the gears turning in that beautiful brain of hers. Despite knowing that she was taking time to digest what he’d given her, knowing her, his nerves started to wrap around each organ, his stomach twisting.

“… John,” she murmured after a long, long moment. When she looked up, finally, her eyes were wet. “John,” she repeated, quieter, tears silently slipping down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey- none ‘a that, huh? No need for waterworks, Nora. Just a little somethin’. ‘Specially to use when I’m not with ya. Wanna make sure you’re nice ‘n covered out there.” She sniffled sharply at his words as he reached out to catch some of her tears, brushing them away with a gentle skim of his fingers. “Can’t let the bastards get too close. Precious goods, ya feel me?” She nodded sharply with another sniffle.

“You made this.” It wasn’t a question. He offered his version of a bashful smile- which, he knew, looked more like a leer. Eyes narrowed, black as the night they were blanketed in. Teeth bared, cheeks pulling grotesquely. For some strange reason, it made her melt. That made him confident enough to pinch her cheek.

“Don’t you fret,” he chuckled as she just stared at him, not bothering to try and slap at his hand like she tended to, typically paired with a sharp smile and a wrinkled nose. “It wasn’t anything special-“

“This is a Recon Maximized Laser Sniper Rifle, Hancock,” she insisted. “With a slew of modifications. And not easy ones, either.”

“My little gun nut,” he tried to coo to make it seem a little less of what he knew was a big deal. “It was nothin’-“ he tried to insist, but she immediately cut him off, picking up the rifle and inspecting it closely.

“This has a maximized capacitor, an improved sniper barrel with a recoil compensating stock. It even has a long recon scope and a fine-tuned beam focuser. This isn’t a gift, honey. This is a fucking masterpiece.” She looked up at him again with big eyes, tears collecting on her waterline and punctuated with a weak sniffle. “This had to have taken you months.” He scoffed to try and play his efforts off, despite his chest burning with her blatant recognition of his hard work.

“It was nothing,” he tried to assert again. She shook her head emphatically.

“Don’t you start with me,” she pushed with her mom voice. “And don’t you dare try to downplay this.”

“Gonna make me blush, talkin’ like that.” His attempt at levity was weak, and she just looked him with pure adoration.

“This is insane,” she said simply. “Absolutely insane.” She sniffled and rubbed her face roughly with her forearm. “Insane,” she emphasized. “I love it.” He couldn’t- and truthfully, didn’t want to- contain the dopey smile that spread over his face.

“Yeah? You like it?” His excitement bled into his voice. Her smile was as bright as the stars that dotted the sky.

“I love it,” she asserted again. “It’s beautiful.” Nora shot him a coy look that was tempered by another sniffle. “Not as beautiful as you, of course.”

“Of course,” he purred back as she tugged him close by the neckline of his blouse to lay a fat, wet kiss on him. He groaned, hands flying to her ribs to steady himself, leaning into the sloppy kiss enthusiastically. She slid her new rifle to the side as he clambered on top of her, their lips parting for only a moment before rejoining hurriedly, loathe to part again. Her hands slid around his hips as they settled against hers-

(Bumping uglies, he thought with amusement.)

-his cock sliding clumsily against the seam of her through her underwear. They both released a punched moan, her fingers squeezing at his ass and keeping him close. He pressed against her himself, arms looping around her neck. The wet sounds of their mouths meeting saturated the night, a light rain starting to trickle down from the dark and cloudy night sky above them.

“You're so thoughtful, honey,” Nora breathed as they parted for only a moment, her eyes half-lidded and caught on his face, enamored. “So good to me,” she murmured, easing their lips again in a deeper, more intimate kiss. He could feel her fingers flex into the ruined skin of his ass, almost to the point of pain. He let out a choked groan, rocking into her as their tongues left no inch of either of their mouths untouched. He let out louder and louder sounds with each rock of his hips, chasing the brush of her chilly skin. It wasn’t until one of his hands slid down to her chest, its destination suddenly unimportant as his gnarled fingers brushed the skin of her sternum and the valley between her breasts. He let out an exceptional moan at the feeling of burning skin right where his spend had pooled just a short time ago, the residual rad-based heat of his cum still evident. His thumb roughly brushed up and down the center of her chest, his kiss becoming just a touch more feral at the inherent mark that he left on her, keeping her nice and warm- taken care of. The thought shoved his chest into a violent storm, the heady mix of tenderness and possessiveness culminating in a frenzy he wasn’t sure he’d experienced before.

“Lemme fuck ya,” he breathed as they parted, his lips quick to brush against wherever they could. Her nose, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. “Don’t make me beg, baby.“ Hancock was panting and intoxicated, peppering his pleads between each press of his mouth against her. He might as well have downed the entire bottle of bourbon she had gifted him. Bourbon, of all things. Bourbon, which was far and beyond an impossible find. And his absolute favorite. And the cigars- he usually preferred the rush of nicotine that his cigarettes offered him, a quick fix to help him focus up. But the box she found for him was perfectly preserved, the contents wrapped nice and tight- all professional-like. The lack of rads, too, was a delightful surprise.

(Not that he minded those extra rads, obviously. But he knew the thick smoke from these bad boys was going to be smooth, intoxicating.)

He realized vaguely that she stuck to his creature comforts, which he wholly appreciated. He didn’t think his poor heart would have been able to handle anything else but the fact that she was indulging him, the poor sap. Not trying to fight against his vices, not trying to change him.

(He’d had quite a few almost-relationships that fizzled out due to that exact issue. It was a sore spot.)

She was just giving him something better. It was an odd thought, but now he was feeling taken care of. She knew that, at the end of the day, when she was out traipsing the Wasteland without him, he was just as likely to wallow in his shortcomings. To shirk off his cloak of nonchalance and cope with booze and chems. It was like her little love note to him, a reminder that she was always there with him with each sip, each puff. Each Party Time Mentat he popped. Little ways that would remind him through the days she wasn’t at his side that she was still with him, that he was on her mind. That she cared.

(Fuck. Fuck. He was so, so fucked. God, he fucking loved her. Fuck. Is that what this was? The thought didn’t scare him like he knew it should have. Fuck.)

“John,” she breathed before tugging him against her again. “Goddamn.” His teeth worked her neck roughly, leaving large, tender patches of skin. “Too generous.” That snapped him back to the situation as he panted against her, his fingers continuing to stroke the skin between her tits reverently.

“Got ya somethin’ else, too,” he rasped, pressing his entire hand against her chest now, murmuring into her neck. “Wanna give it to ya now. Also wanna fuck ya-“ His words were almost slurred, tongue pressing obscenely against her pulse and tracing sloppily along the line of her neck. The stretch of skin was soaked with his spit, a thin line of drool connecting them when he pulled away slightly to stare at her with wild eyes. “Can you reach it, baby? It’s right behind me- shit-“ His hips started rutting against her again, punching a loud whimper from her. It took a few seconds of fumbling, but she was able to wrap a foot around the strap of his pack and tug it close enough to grab at it.

“Right at the top. Go ahead-“ He kept panting like a dog, the arm around her neck sliding forward to cup the side of her face. She tugged the item out of the pack with some effort, the cloth twisted up in the rest of his inventory. There was the sound of glass clinking, the noise of chems being jostled before the whole of the garment was revealed to her. Well- both garments. She whined loudly as he nigh chomped down on her neck, as if trying to take a chunk out of her. To swallow her down and always have a piece of her inside of him, nestled in his guts.

“You’re - you’re kidding me,” she stuttered. “How in the hell…” She let out a sharp breath as he kept gnawing on her. “Is this- how the fuck- this is my size.” She sounded mystified, in awe. She almost sounded like she was about to start crying again. Over a bra. His grin was harsh against her.

“I always hate when you got those gorgeous tits all tucked away,” his voice was gravel, vibrating the dermis he was so cruelly attending to. “But if you gotta, might as well make sure they’re well taken care of.” His hips rocked up again.

“And the bathrobe?” she breathed. He pulled away enough to shoot her an absolutely wicked grin.

“Gotta make sure my girl is all comfy-cozy.” It was all he offered before he pulled away enough to almost rip the article of clothing out of her hands. “Lemme put it on, baby- gonna look real good on ya, I can already tell-“ He was clumsy in trying to assist her, his fingers scrambling with hers to shove her arms in the sleeves, to pull the seam free from where it caught under her armpit, to settle it comfortably around her. “God, look at you. All domestic-like.”

(Oops. Hello new kink.)

“What did I do to deserve you?” she whispered tightly, eyelashes fluttering as her gaze trailed from the sleeve of the robe back up to his face. “Truly. What did I do?”

“Stop bullshittin’ me, sunshine,” he growled, blindly shoving a hand into his pack, almost desperate. Nora certainly didn’t make his mission any easier, her hands landing on his ass again to coax him to start rocking into her again. “Now that just ain’t playin’ fair.”

“C’mon, then,” she rushed. He groaned, just about to give up before his fingers brushed against the item of his desires. He yanked it out, the bottle jostling around and the capsules clacking against each other as he shook it. “You started carrying around Rad-X?” she sounded shocked.

“Always gotta be ready. I gotta be honest, though- can't say I'm real used to lugging around this kinda protection,” he teased, pulling an eye-roll from his companion. “Heh.”

“You’re a pain in th- mmph!” Her words were acutely interrupted by the fingers now wedged in her mouth. She wrinkled her nose at him and just missed biting down on the offending digits.

“Swallow,” he commanded darkly, firmly. She looked like she had to consider it for a moment, oscillating between obeying and being a brat. She ultimately swallowed the chems down dutifully, and the game was on. They immediately started tussling after he haphazardly tossed the bottle behind him, fingers scraping skin, teeth marks pressing in deep. They rolled across the small space of their little box.

As the dust settled, he managed to get her on her back just in time to tug her panties to the side to bury his face into her cunt. She barely covered her mouth in time to limit the volume of her squeal, eyes rolling back and thighs twitching as he devoured her. All of her prior misgivings seemed to have disappeared, her free hand pressing him further into her heat. He was merciless, making a home for himself between her thighs and slurping nigh obnoxiously, coaxing out as much of her arousal as he could. He stuffed his tongue into her opening intermittently, spacing it out with a swirl around her clit that was emphasized with a moderate suck to her nub. She scrambled under him despite her hand planted firmly on the back of his head. He didn’t let her move too far, the Sole Survivor managing to scoot an inch or so away before he either pushed himself forward or tugged her back. He kept her legs spread with his shoulders, narrow as they were. Her thighs now shook around him, hushed babbles coming from her.

“John- John-“ Her nails dug into the back of his head and he let out a loud groan. “Don’t stop- fuck- more, please, please-“ His shoulders jostled her suddenly, punching a breath out of her as he folded her up, spreading her thighs further for easy access. “I can’t! I can’t!” she chanted with a cry, his fingers sliding in easily, massaging against the clench of her cunt. Each thrust was poignant, aimed carefully and preciously at a spot he had no problem abusing. She hiccuped loudly, hips rocking up into his hand and mouth as much as she could manage. He was sure she could feel the vibrations of his own coos and groans, his busy tongue twisting between devouring her and rambling into her heat about how good she tasted, how he’d always take care of her, how perfect she was for him. “I- I want more- need more-“

He cut her off abruptly, letting her legs and hips yield to gravity and lower back to the wooden floor. His face was soaked and almost dripping when he pulled away from her and he could see her pupils dilate just for a moment before he grasped her hips tightly and flipped her onto her stomach. Nora let out a loud yelp as he gifted her a sharp smack to one of her ass cheeks, her thighs flexing at the pain. He allowed himself just a moment to wrap his damp hand around his length and jerk himself twice, cock twitching, erect, and interested at the wet, warm pussy in front of him. He couldn’t wait too long, though- his partner had a nasty habit of impatience and was liable to start putting up a bratty front the longer he kept her waiting.

He loved it.

This time, though, he couldn’t wait. He sunk in slowly, the pop of his swollen head pressing into the tense ring of muscle that made up her entrance sending a jolt through both of them. Her breaths became wheezes, immediately having difficulty keeping her ass up and back arched as a sudden and violent orgasm took her. She tended to experience this regularly- as soon as his cock spread her, made space inside of her, pleasure would overtake her. She would let out a series of whines and moans and sobs as the sensations were pulled from her sharply. She couldn’t even seem to form proper words, shaking under him and full-body twitching taking over her muscles. He pet her waist, her ass, her thighs- easing her through the shot of overwhelming bliss. She barely started coming down before his head tilted, trying to listen while suppressing his own panting as she strangled his cock.

It was only because he hadn’t started a brutal pace that he heard the skittering; he attributed it to their seamless teamwork that his body reacted before his acutely pussy-drunk brain could. The only weapon within arm’s length was the rifle he had just gifted her, and he didn’t think an act from any god would pull him away from her sweltering heat at that moment. He slid the gun in front of Nora, her hands immediately wrapping around the barrel and bringing the stock against her shoulder, chest pressed against the floor of the treehouse, legs shaking at the press of his cock sliding home inside of her. He bottomed out and she let out a pathetic whimper as she set up her shot, the glow of an irradiated Mirelurk indicating its speedy approach.

He was absolutely enamored.

Her body was covered from his perspective, only her ass revealed due to his flipping up the bottom hem of the cozy robe, bunching the fabric up around her hips. He gathered that the punched whimpers and whines had something to do with the scrape of her nipples against the boards of the floor, not having had the chance to tie the front.

“Go ahead, baby. Show me what a sharp little shooter you are,” he cooed, fingers digging into her hips harshly. She only warned him with a grunt before she took the first shot. The recoil hit them immediately, shoving her back firmly to his base just as he had begun to pull out. Nora let out a loud yelp, her hands shaking and her eyes almost crossing. “Fuck,” he cursed loudly, grinding deeper. “Again.” She lined up another shot, the laser landing a foot behind the giant crab. Another shot- another miss. He was obsessed with the way her distraction physically manifested itself, chest rising and falling rapidly with each shaky shot. She released a pained noise, wrenched free from her throat at every jostle, every push of her cunt back onto his cock. He adjusted himself, draping over her back and pressing her flat against the ground. His mouth brushed her ear, his hands rubbing her ribs. “Focus up,” he breathed lowly in her ear, pulling a harsh shiver from her. “Best start linin’ up those shots, gorgeous. I’ll treat ya real nice if ya keep us alive. Promise.” The last word was rough, dark, and full of promise. He could feel the sharp breath she took under him, holding it as her abdomen started trembling. Then the torture started.

She let out a rapid burst of shots, about 75% of them landing in a devastating hit. The thing let out a weak series of clicks before she released one more shot that did the creature in, a burning hole pressing through its body and its shell to leave a smoking entrance and exit wound.

Her success, though, was not without its drawbacks. At every shot, her ass would at the very least grind against him, if not fully press a thrust back onto his length if there was even an inch between them. The jolts were almost debilitating, each sharp movement building pressure in his cock, his spine. He pressed his mouth behind her ear, cooing and rasping and purring in her ear between grunts and whorish moans.

“My pretty Wastelander,” he panted. “Look at ya, keepin’ us covered. Knew you’d look sexy with that gun in your hands-“ he snapped his jaw against her at another jolt, gently scraping his teeth against her soft skin. “Shit- shoulda done this earlier, huh? Good girl,” Hancock hissed as she pulsed around him with another shot, his eyes rolling backward. “God, just look at you.” The sound of more skitters and clicking started saturating the air as he rocked his hips against her ass, her body tense under his. “You gotta reload, baby. Got some more company comin’. Wanna be a good host, don’tcha?” She let out a quiet whine, hands shaking as they went through the motions. “Atta girl. Set yourself up for another go. We got all night." His voice was breathier, his panting against her hair loud. “Fuck, shoulda hooked you up to another RadAway, huh? I coulda pumped you nice ‘n full, just how you like.”

“John,” she whimpered, her ass flexing back to try and get him deeper. Angle him in such a way that he could make it more. Make it hurt. “I can’t- I can’t focus- you feel so-“ She was breathing hard, her head wobbling back and forth slightly with the sudden weakness of her neck. He was fucking her into docility, her brain dutifully emptying out of her ears. “John,” Nora settled on, voice pinched, head tilting to the side to try and get to his mouth. He tsk’d at her, nudging her head forward again with a gentle press of his chin to her cheek.

“Straight ahead, Nora- that’s right, good job,” he murmured. “Set up your shot- there ya go, little to the left- perfect,” he rasped breathlessly, a groan punched out of his chest as she took the shot. She kept on the encroaching Mirelurk, carving smoking holes into its underbelly methodically. She was getting tight around him, her body buzzing with each beat of her heart.

“Fuck- fuck- shit-“ He let out an expletive at every jerk of kickback, hands tight and bruising on her ribs. He reached further down, scraping his hands against the wooden floor to take her tits in hand. She choked as he pinched at her nipples, his teeth working over the exposed skin of her neck. Each bang made him hiss through his teeth, tongue laving over the imprisoned skin as his hands squeezed her chest. “Another, love,” Hancock managed, unhinging his jaw from around her shoulder.

“Want it real bad, Hancock.” She sounded like she was close to sobbing. If he didn’t know her better, he would have been concerned at her dismal tone. But he did know her better and knew that, when she got like this, she was drowning in pleasure, disoriented and vulnerable. “Real deep. Drip-“ She shivered as he gave her a sharp thrust, choking on her words. He kept a steady rock into her heat. “-dripping outta me. I need it, I need- oh my god-“

“John,” he insisted with a huff, throat rumbling over her shoulder at his insistence. If they were in any other situation, he wouldn’t have one complaint about her use of his moniker. When he was this deep in her, though? Not a chance. “Go ‘head. Say it. Say my name,” he rasped. “Say it.” He bared his teeth against her shoulder, hitting something devastatingly deep in the burning heat of her. She let out such a high-pitched, pinched sound that he was convinced that he’d somehow punched up through her diaphragm and nestled right between her lungs.

“John.” Her voice was so quiet that he barely heard her over the clicking of the last Mirelurk.

“Good girl. One more.” He could barely form words. “One more ‘Lurk and we’ll getcha nice ‘n full.” He nudged her shoulders back into position, his cock sliding deliciously through a veritable puddle of her slick, the wet sounds of their coupling louder and louder. He nudged her head again. “There ya go, perfect.” She had a full-body shiver at that. “Deep breath, sunshine. Line up your shot.” His hips slowed for just a second before she took her first shot at the last Mirelurk- which unfortunately was disastrous for the two of them. That kickback strangled an inhuman sound from the Ghoul on top of her, a growl that was just on the wrong side of safe.

Nora seemed to have a different opinion, though, as she sobbed in response, cunt clenching hard around him as she emptied her clip.

She held out until she dropped the last of the creatures before letting the rifle drop from her hands to scratch at the floor with a scream. He didn’t feel like he had any say in when his orgasm hit him; as soon as she pulled him that deep and kept him there, it was over from him. They rode their orgasms out together, his hips glued to the back of her ass. Each buck and flex of her legs made him rock like he was in rough waters, holding onto her for dear life. His brain got fuzzy, the rush of blood through his ears all-consuming and pulling him deep into the drowning sensation of his climax. Hancock kept pumping her full, his balls practically sore from his release. He hadn’t been wrung this dry since-

(Ever, probably.)

As Hancock's muscles slowly released and relaxed, he felt one of her legs twitching, Nora releasing sobs that corresponded with each squeeze of her calf. He groaned for a moment as he slowly eased himself into a more upright position, still stopping up her cunt. He weakly reached behind, fingers trembling and lightly glancing over the pulsating muscle. His digits dipped gently into the charley horse currently rocking her leg. He did the best he could at the angle he was at, a firm touch working over the painful area. Her cries slowly eased into sniffles, her body rising and falling with slowing breath, her muscles relaxing under his gnarled fingers. He ensured that the painful twisting of her muscles had stopped before trailing his careful touch up to settle his hands on her ass.

“Happy birthday, Nora,” he rasped, squeezing one of her cheeks harshly. “Your final gift is another bag ‘a RadAway. Aren’t I sweet?” Nora mumbled nonsense. Hancock just tipped his head back and let out a breathless laugh.

Chapter Text

“Hey- speaking of covert…”

“Do I need to be concerned about what’s gonna come out of your mouth?”

“Well it’s- y’know, it’s not my mouth I’m talking about here.”

Nora grunted as she picked through the alleyways carefully, her and her currently-bald companion slowly making the trek towards Goodneighbor. Deacon didn’t usually stutter, and he definitely didn’t usually walk around with a bright blush spread across his cheeks under his sunglasses.

“I am now concerned about what’s gonna come out of your mouth.”

“I just don’t want to assume,” he offered lamely. She raised an eyebrow, shooting him a flat look. “Okay, alright.” He held up his hands defensively. “I just- you and the Mayor, huh?” Her other eyebrow joined the other in lifting towards her hairline. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Oh? You think there’s something there?”

“Don’t play coy! I’ve seen you two. Getting awfully chummy.”

“Yeah? And when did you complete the surveillance? Perhaps while you were stalking me across the Wasteland before I joined the Railroad?” He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I saw you guys meet for the first time- and even then you were eye-fucking.” Nora snorted, eyes gleaming in the daylight with mirth. “He had his knife in another guy’s guts and you looked like you could have eaten him whole.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, teeth digging into her bottom lip at the recollection. “That’s your proof? That I think he’s attractive?”

“Well, no, not when you say it like that. MacCready also told me about that time with the lipstick, too.”

“The lipstick?” She almost couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“You had the bright red one on-“

“Why do you know what lipstick I have-“

“And it was all smudged. And when he saw Hancock later, he was all disheveled. So either you two are involved…”

“I hardly think Hancock being disheveled automatically is my doing.”

“And he’s been- I’m not sure how to put it. Happier?” She couldn’t hold back her smile on that one, pausing for just a moment as something fluttered in her chest.

“Yeah?”

“Especially after the two spend time together. So I have a theory.”

“Please do share.”

“You two are crushing on each other. Hard.” He let out a dreamy sigh. “Ah, young love.”

She could feel her own face heat as she bit down on a delighted and mischievous smile.

“So you really think there’s something there?” she hummed again. He nodded decisively.

“Absolutely. And I, in my infinite kindness, have decided to be your wingman.” Her eyebrows shot up again at that as an amused smile finally broke through.

“You will?”

“Mhm. A lot of us in your merry band of misfits agree. You guys would be great together.” He paused. “I think.” She felt a warmth overcome the flutter, spreading through her chest as fondness glimmered in her eyes at the confession that this was concerted effort. It put a lot of odd discussions with her other companions into a different light and explained a number of leading questions she typically fielded. Now she realized- her entire support system was trying to coax her into… well. Happiness. Her eyes softened.

“You think?” He shrugged.

“I’ve known Hancock for a little while now and I’ve never seen him like this. Less asshole-ish.” As they crossed the final stretch to access the front gate, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “So, let’s go and get you laid!”

“Deacon,” she laughed.

“I mean. Create a meaningful and long lasting relationship!” She kept laughing- practically giggling- as they stopped by Daisy and KL-E-0 before making their way into the Old State House and up the stairs.

They shared a quick look before entering the office, Deacon giving her a supportive pat on the shoulder. As Nora entered the room, Hancock shifted the weight of his position on the couch. As he opened his mouth to greet her, black eyes practically shining in the low light of the office, she beat him to the punch.

“Mr. Mayor,” she said, amused. One of his eyebrow ridges rose at the combined use of both his title and his moniker as opposed to his first name, but he seemed otherwise unperturbed. And with the sly smile that pulled at his features grotesquely, he seemed to have caught on pretty quick. It was always hard to tell, but she was pretty sure his eyes darted to Deacon and back to her. She offered him a wink when the spy spared the mayor a glance.

“Sonuvabitch, Nora! My old pal! C’mere, bring it in." He managed to get himself upright, putting out his cigarette and getting to his feet by the time she reached him, their arms wrapping around each other smoothly. Practiced. He squeezed her, spinning them around so his back was to the Railroad agent. She looked at Deacon over Hancock’s shoulder, who gave her two thumbs up in support. She returned the hug immediately, the two plastered against each other.

She closed her eyes tightly as she dug her face into his shoulder, her arms crossing over most of his back, covering as much of his body as she could. He, in turn, had an arm wrapped low around her waist, other hand cupping the back of her neck. They hugged for just a touch too long, too intimate to be considered friendly before taking a half-step back from each other. The pleased expression on Hancock’s face paired well with Nora’s teeth digging into her lip, gaze flashing to Deacon for just a moment, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Hey, hon- hon…cock. Hancock. Um. Long time no see. How’s the neighborhood?” He chuckled at her stumble, barely taking another half step back. They were still practically breathing in each other’s air.

“In perfect anarchy, as always. But enough ‘bout ‘ole Goodneighbor- you’re lookin’ good,” he rasped lowly. She let out a demure giggle, and his grin turned sharp at her sudden and only partially faux diffidence. His eyes burned as they dragged lasciviously up and down her form.

“You’re not too shabby yourself.” She kept working over her lip, which Deacon obviously took as nerves. The heat behind Hancock’s gaze read right through her, though, his hands twitching to touch. He busied himself with a Jet inhaler instead, pulling one from his pocket. There was a thick silence, Deacon fidgeting behind the Ghoul.

“She got a new gun!” Deacon interrupted, stilted. Hancock’s forehead creased with a raise of the ridges of his brow, a delighted smile breaking down his predatory grin.

“That so?”

"This is the first time I've traveled with you in a while, Deacon. He doesn't wanna hear about old news," Nora murmured, embarrassed.

“She’s an even better shot now. Honest.” He defended as she shot the spy an exasperated look. “She sniped an entire Gunner camp from at least two miles away.”

She laughed quietly, cheeks burning and head shaking at the hyperbole. “It’s the quality of the gun. I point but she shoots.” Hancock took a heavy, deep breath as he immediately pressed the inhaler to his mouth. He sucked down a considerable hit of Jet, letting it billow out of his nasal cavities. His stare was heavy, pleased. She scrunched her nose for just a moment.

(The bastard knew that she liked it when he did that. Second only to when he shotgunned it right into her mouth, which lead to a heavy make out session, which lead to-)

Deacon must have taken her expression as displeased, the spy stepping further into the room with a grimace.

“Yeah well. It’s still impressive! And she took out an entire Radscorpion nest by herself- with just a machete! There had to be- what, like, at least a dozen. Isn’t that right, Nora?” She nodded emphatically.

“That right?” Hancock echoed again, now in a purr, leaning into her space just a tad more. Her cheeks and chest burned under his attention.

“It was harrowing, but I managed,” she teased back. “Best watch out. Machete aside, this gun’s definitely the best I’ve ever handled.” He hummed lowly, shaking the inhaler again.

“I’ll bet. Got quite the eye there, sunshine.” He took another deep inhale and spoke through the exhale. “The best, eh?”

“Best I’ve had,” her voice dropped, eyes flitting between his. The smile he offered her was anything but polite.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They just stood there for another considerable moment, their stares intense. "Deacon, I think I'm gonna take Hancock for this next trip." The Railroad agent looked between them before clearing his throat.

"You're traveling with Hancock? Uh, are you sure that's safe?" He leaned forward just a bit- not that it mattered from where he still stood by the doorway- and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "When I said great together I didn't mean out in the Wastes." She snorted, lips curling in amused exasperation. He leaned back into full height, his voice returning to baseline. "Not that she needs to worry, obviously. I mean, look at her! She’s smart, deadly, hot-“

“I think I’ve got it from here,” Hancock cut him off, turning so that the black of his eyes locked onto the other man now- not that he’d be able to tell. “Go ‘head and grab a drink from the Third Rail. On me.” The spy paused for a moment before offering a bright smile.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Deacon laughed before immediately sobering up and giving Nora a meaningful glance. “I’ll be around. Let me know if you need anything.” His stare got more meaningful, settling on Nora. “Anything.”

“She’s in good hands,” the Ghoul mused casually, taking one more puff of the chem before stuffing it back into the pocket of his frock.

“Thanks for the help, Deacon. I really appreciate you having my back on the road.” The Railroad agent seemed suddenly flustered at her earnest tone and waved her off, clearing his throat as he started down the stairs.

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

They waited until they heard the door close down the stairs before they descended upon each other. Nora practically launched herself at his back, Hancock barely turning in time to catch her. He let out a loud laugh as the rebound of the force of her body against his made them stumble further into the room. He managed to get them all the way to the back of the space before he brushed the items on the counter onto the floor and lead her to hop up. He crowded her, fingers digging into the fat of her hips and ass, pulling her closer to the edge to slot himself between her legs.

Then their lips met, and that was the end of that. It turned nasty quickly, wet smacking sounds underscoring their affections.

“Missed you- so much-“ she breathed between kisses. “Fuck, John.” Her hands were wrapped tightly around the lapel of his frock, keeping him close. His hands, conversely, couldn’t sit still. He swept up and down her sides, over her curves, held her face in his hands, pulled her hair loose- anywhere he could dig his fingers in, he did.

“Missed you too, love,” he breathed, fingers digging in. “Leavin’ me for another man, huh?” His mouth trailed down to her jaw and nipped harshly at her. She hissed and tried to pull away, not moving an inch thanks to his hold on her face. “You tryna keep us a secret?” She could hear the quiet waver in his teasing tone and immediately dipped down to assuage his concern. Her mouth was soft against his as she nudged him away from her jaw. Their tongues met smoothly after she licked into his mouth, hands gripping each other tightly with not an inch between them.

“Never,” Nora breathed as they pulled centimeters apart. “I’m proud to call you my partner.” He let out a short breath. “I just- I-“ she bit her lip, mischief in her eyes. “I just like fucking with Deacon.” He let out a bark of a laugh at that, head tipping back. “He decided that I needed a wingman, and who was I to stop him?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling close again to nuzzle his cratered cheek. “Anyways, you and I have not been discrete. We’ve done some heavy petting on the benches outside the Third Rail. And the Memory Den. And Hotel Rexford. And the Commons. And- well,” she cut herself off, amused and amorous. “But it sounds like the rest of our, as Deacon put it, merry band of misfits, are trying to get us together. Say that we look happy.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he rasped, kissing her temple. “My vicious Vaultie.” She let out a gentle huff of laughter before their lips met again- slower, this time. More intimate. Their hunger was still apparent but they indulged in each other in a more adoring manner. Soft, but meaningful.

“God I missed you,” she breathed again as they pulled apart to rest their foreheads together, his hat askew. “You get up to any good trouble?”

“Always do, baby,” he hummed, coaxing her into another deep kiss. Their tongues were lazy, licking and sucking with warmth. His hand slid up her stomach, between her breasts, and hooked on to the zipper of her suit. She shivered, her teeth catching on his ruined lower lip, nipping and tugging as he tried to pull away. He chuckled against her mouth, pressing into her harder to make her lean back slightly, her grasp on him the only force keeping her upright. Her legs hooked around his hips. With a tug of his pelvis against hers, they both groaned lowly, pulling apart again to pant.

“Missed you,” he rasped. “Lemme show ya how much.” His fingers dug into her, her breath catching and eyelashes fluttering at the pinch of pain. “Gonna close the door for ya. Then I’m gonna eat you out like you deserve.”

“Yeah?” Nora let out a breathless laugh. “What did I do to deserve it?”

“You came back.”

“11 used to be my lucky number.” Hancock let out a curious noise. Nora nodded, eyes unfocused on the stars and moon shining brightly above them. She followed it up with a hum of affirmation, tipping back a Gwinnett Ale for a sip. “Obviously it’s got a little more of a negative connotation now, on account of the Vault.” He nudged her shoulder in support, the two pressed against each other, side by side. “I’ll find a new one, I guess.”

“Dunno if I’ve ever met someone so superstitious,” he mused, picking a piece of dirt off of her thigh and rubbing it to dust between his weathered fingers. They were sitting in the Upper Stands in Diamond City, a number of empty bottles littered around them, the full moon illuminating their faces. She shrugged half-heartedly.

“Only about a few things.” He shot her an unconvinced look but didn’t pursue his argument. They sat quietly for a few moments before she piped up again. “I have a question for you. It’s kinda heavy, though.” The ridge of his brow lifted in interest as he motioned for her to continue with his bottle, his attention solely on the woman next to him. “Why’d you go Ghoul?”

“Ya need your ears checked, love? Thought we went over this.” She didn’t bother smothering her chuckle.

“No, no, not that. I’m just- I’m a little confused, is all.” She bit her lip to buy herself a moment to collect her thoughts, nose scrunching with uncertainty before opening her mouth. “I know you were- well, running from yourself. But why go Ghoul, then? Won’t you feel stuck with yourself for even longer?” She offered him a soft look. He tilted his head back as he took another swig.

“Dunno. Didn’t put that much thought into it, I guess.”

“Johnathan,” she huffed, “you don’t do anything without that much thought.” His head tipped back again as he gifted her with a bark of laughter, their shoulders pushing against each other as she laughed with him.

“Johnathan? What gives?” he managed to get out with amusement.

“You listened, didn’t you?” she snarked back, letting out a yelp as his fingers reached out to pinch at her hips and sides. She tried to smack his hands away at every turn, but he managed to land some pokes and prods. She leaned in to start returning fire but the Ghoul grabbed her wrists. Nora let out a grunt and threw her weight against him, the two beginning to tussle on the skinny platform of one of the stands. A few empty bottles went rolling off the bench, the glass forgotten by the couple now lovingly locking lips, Hancock sighing into Nora’s mouth. She settled on top of him, her hands sliding up his chest and pulling his frock open to drag her nails down the revealed patch of ruined skin.

He cooed at the feeling, his hands settling on her hips and squeezing, greedy. She moaned, hips twitching once against his before she pulled away slowly, the two panting. It was quiet for a moment, her hands gentler this time as she thumbed his protruding collarbone. The vague sounds of the night owl denizens on the field below saturated the air around them, fondness overtaking her features.

“You’re gorgeous.” He just stared up at her, the intensity of the moment catching the sarcasm that was halfway up his throat already. He licked his lack of lips.

“Shoulda seen me before I went Ghoul. You woulda been all over me.” She tilted her head.

“Am I not already?” Her thumb dug into his ruined dermis enough for him to take in a sharp breath. “I don’t really think it’s possible for you to get more handsome.” One of her hands swept up to cup his cheek, her other thumb brushing against his skin. “Though I may be biased.”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Biased.” He turned his face to kiss her palm. “… was halfway convinced that the drug I took was gonna kill me anyhow,” he breathed after a minute. “Didn’t, obviously. But I ain’t mad about it. Not anymore.” She made a curious noise as he allowed himself a moment to press into her hand. “I got you out of it, didn’t I?” She momentarily looked like he had gutted her, a painfully tender expression pulling at her features.

She leaned down and gave him the softest kiss she could. He melted.

“What do you mean I’m not coming? Are you outta your mind?”

“Nick is more than capable of having my back, Hancock. And he doesn’t have to worry about the rads.”

“I’m a Ghoul, sister. Rads are kinda my thing. Remember? King of the zombies?”

“And as thankful as I am for your title, your charisma isn’t what I’m concerned about.”

“What is it, then? Afraid you’ll get distracted by some good Ghoul dick?”

“Honestly? Kinda.”

“If I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it in your tight lil’ vault suit…”

“John, the Glowing Sea is just radstorm after radstorm. You remember what happened the last time we were stuck in one of those?”

“What if I promise to be good?”

“Honey.”

“Rads heal me, Nora. You wouldn’t hafta worry ‘bout a thing.”

“As much as I love rough-housing with you, I’m also going to be in a hazmat suit.”

“So?”

“So I won’t have any armor on. If we start getting handsy, all it will take is one little rip in my suit and I’m a goner.”

“So ya don’t trust me.”

“I trust you. You know that. I’m just trying to be strategic. And I can’t ask that of you- to be fighting yourself every step of the way. I don’t want to put you in that position.” He knew he was being obstinate, but the concept of sending Nora out into the Glowing Sea without him made his heart seize up. He settled for shoving his hands in his pockets in displeasure with a tch and frowning at her instead of continuing to protest. “C’mon, we gotta go find an intact hazmat suit. Nick and I are gonna head out at dawn tomorrow so we hopefully find this Dr. Virgil before nightfall. I’d hate to be stuck out there when the sun goes down.” Nora held out her hand, looking at him expectantly. He scoffed but placed his hand in hers nevertheless. She smiled a secret little smile at him that made his teeth buzz, pulling him along gently to make their way out of Goodneighbor.

What had started this argument in the first place was Hancock trying to divvy up how much of which chems he wanted to take with them during their excursion. Nora, his darling Nora, decided to tell him only after his little monologue that she would be leaving him behind. Which brought him back to the present moment of pouting frustration as he walked next to her, his gnarled hand in her smooth one. He fixed his face as they walked through the streets of Goodneighbor in the early morning light, expression becoming easy and casual. No need to broadcast his frustrations with Nora to the rest of the neighborhood.

They passed through the short streets easily, only being stopped once by a drifter who looked at Hancock with stars in his eyes and shouted, “King of the Ghouls!”

“Citizen.” Hancock gave a three finger salute with his free hand, nodding officially. He squeezed the Sole Survivor’s hand to get her attention and raised his would-be eyebrows emphatically at her, as if to say see? She smiled so warmly at him that he felt it spread like wildfire through his blood, like he was getting burned from the inside. He just squeezed her hand again and they made their way through the gate.

“So, West Everette Estates, huh?” he asked as they started making their way through the ruins outside of Goodneighbor. She nodded with a hum, squeezing his hand this time.

“Yeah- I cleared it out with Curie again the other day, so we should be able to get in and out of there quickly. I remember seeing at least one suit in a bunker in one of the backyards. Gotta remember which backyard, though…” she mused to herself, wrinkling her nose. “Places like that always get me all turned around.”

“Didn’t you live in a neighborhood like that?” Hancock teased. She snorted.

“And 200 years later I still get lost,” she mused. “But like I said, I’m sure this will turn out to be a quick trip. Then we can make our way to Diamond City for the night- if you’re comfortable with that.” She glanced at him meaningfully, brows slightly furrowed.

“‘Course I’m comfortable. You think they look at me twice when I’m with ya? You look like a walking weapons locker- in the sexy way.” He grinned as he got a chuckle from her. “Anyways, I know the real reason ya wanna spend the night in that shithole.” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Is that so?” He nodded sagely. “And what, pray tell, would that reason be? Surely not because I’m gonna be traveling with our favorite synth.”

“Nah.” His grin turned predatory. “It’s ‘cause you like showin’ me off. Ya like to stick it to The Man in these little ways that really get me goin’, baby,” he purred as he gently crowded her into an alleyway, caging her in between the red brick of the building behind her and himself. She grinned and he could feel the heat from her cheeks as he passed his ruined mouth lightly over hers. She leaned into his kiss, pressing into his chest and digging her fingers into his lapel. She wasted no time in swiping her tongue across his lack of lips before sliding further in to the heat of his mouth. They gave themselves the minute or two to lean into each other, chasing the other’s mouth hungrily. Nora finally, regretfully, pulled away from him, catching her breath and licking her lips, her eyes shining in the morning light.

(Fuck, she was trouble, he thought to himself with warm affection. And he was helpless against her.)

“We’ll have all night for a proper send off, Mr. Mayor,” she smiled coyly at him. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” he cooed back at her, pressing his forehead against hers.

“The prettiest,” she confirmed, kissing his cheek soundly. “Now let’s get moving so I can, as you say, appreciate you somewhere more private. We’ll be done before you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, flippant as they pulled away from each other, coal eyes shining. “Quick trip, gotcha.”

It was not a quick trip.

Well, they still hadn’t gotten what they came for, so there was no telling how long it would actually be.

They had been circling the area for at least half an hour, Nora doing what she did best and finding the highest vantage point she could to peak through her scope. She had cursed under her breath with a beautiful array of expletives that made even his cheeks feel warm, pulling away from her scope to inform him that not only had the Super Mutants come back, but they came back in force. He and Nora had put their heads together after that, trying to determine what the best course of action would be.

“I have ammo,” she muttered to him. “A decent amount. But I don’t really wanna waste it all before tomorrow.”

“Sounds like sneakin’ in it is,” he murmured back, looking towards the houses with a squint. He could just see the blurry movements of mutant hounds at the gate. “You take point, I’ll cover your ass.”

“You mean stare at it.”

“Hey, I take my job very seriously. Gotta be thorough.”

So here they were, skirting around a row of identical houses carefully. The sun was positioned midway through the sky as they tried their best to keep low and slow, Nora peeking around each corner before her gaze suddenly shot up, whipping her head back towards him, eyes alight. She motioned towards a house with a small attachment with her elbow and he nodded.

They managed to quietly make their way to the derelict home, passing a Super Mutant or two on the perimeter. After arriving at their destination, Nora took care while slowly opening the metal door to the attached shed, pausing each time it let out a whisper of a squeak. She made pretty quick work of the lock on the grate doors that lead to the bunker, looking confused as to why it was back on the grates in the first place. But she seemed to dismiss her own concerns as she quietly pulled it off, putting it aside and wrapping her fingers around the handles. Hancock saw her arms and back tense, heard her let out a light grunt at the attempt- and saw the grate moved by an inch. She looked back at him with a tense jaw.

“It’s stuck on something,” she muttered lowly. He opened his mouth to respond when they heard approaching sounds of shouting and shooting in the distance, moving closer and closer with impressive speed. They looked at each other and Nora started pulling with a little more force with each attempt. They could hear a large crowd of what they could only assume were raiders descending on the neighborhood, clashing with the Super Mutants. Grenades started going off, fire being exchanged, screaming and shouting from both factions echoing through the air.

They quickly switched positions, Nora covering him as Hancock tried his hand at opening the bunker to no avail. His head flew towards Nora as he heard the suppressed fire of a modified pipe pistol, turning in time to see two raiders fall limp to the ground, one missing a head and one missing both legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, digging through his pockets. Nora kept point, eyes scanning the backyard methodically. The ground shook as a mini-nuke detonated somewhere in proximity, causing her grip on her pistol to tighten and his searching to get a little more hurried.

He finally pulled the Buffout from his pocket, opening the jar with a flick of his wrist. Hancock nudged his companion before holding up the bottle for her to inspect. He fished a tablet out and offered it to her with a nod. She didn't even pause, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. He pressed the chem into her mouth and she swallowed it down with a grimace at the taste and texture. He huffed, fond and amused at the wrinkle of her nose. 

They switched positions again in a shuffle as she spread her legs to make a solid base, bent her knees with her back straight, and pulled hard as another missile made contact with the side of a house just across the way. She cursed at the screeching noise the grate made in protest, fruitlessly pulling long and hard. He glanced away from her in time to put two slugs of his shotgun right into a mutant hound’s head that had just turned the corner.

“John,” she hissed. He looked back at her. “I need your help.”

It was easier this time to grab the bottle from the top of his pocket. He popped off the top and quickly slid three into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He replaced the bottle in his pocket and moved to stand next to her in front of the grate. That was when they heard the sound of faint beeping quickly approaching, the beep beep beep piercing through the sounds of battles around them.

They froze at the same time, shooting each other panicked looks. Suicider.

The pair scrambled to each grab a handle and pulled hard. The groan the metal let out was loud, and though Hancock knew that most of it would be lost to the noise of a battle around them, anything in the immediate vicinity would be arriving at their location shortly. As the grates flew open in their hands, they didn’t wait a second longer to rush down into the bunker. Hancock took up the rear, slamming the doors back into place and latching them from the inside with both available locks.

They were both breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping, muscles still tensed and ready for the impact of a mini-nuke. When the ground shook and they did hear it detonate, it sounded and felt like the Suicider had fortunately run right past the bunker and into the main road. Nora let out a huff of air before standing straight and letting her body relax. Hancock turned to look at her as she stepped five feet to the right and grabbed a bright yellow suit.

“Oh.”

“See how easy this should have been?”

“Sister, you know just as well as I do that the Wasteland always makes errands difficult.”

“I was just being hopeful, I guess,” she sighed mournfully, kneeling down to open her pack and rearrange her inventory to make room for the eyesore of a suit. The ground shook with another explosion as Nora zippered the pack closed, leaving it on the ground and wandering around the space.

“We’re a little stuck for a while, aren’t we?”

“Seems that way.”

“Hm.” They shared a glance, sly smiles spreading on their faces, before turning away from each other and working on clearing the space. Nora had said that she’d been in this bunker recently, but with the new lock on the handles and the grates stuck, it sure felt like something or someone else had been in there between then and now. The only thing out of place, though, was a single radroach that Hancock immediately hit with the stock of his shotgun. The damn thing crumpled into pieces, practically flying apart. She bit down a smile.

“That was kinda hot.”

“Squashin’ bugs gets you goin’ now, huh?”

“That thing crumpled like fucking tissue paper, Hancock. I could practically see your muscles bulge under your clothes.”

“Gettin’ you a little hot under the vault suit,” he finished for her, casual despite the heat creeping up her cheeks. “Looks like we got plenty ‘a time to discuss further.” His tone maintained that lackadaisical countenance, only betrayed by the intensity of his black gaze on her person.

“Well, it would be wise for us to wait it out down here until we can leave without getting riddled with bullet holes.” As if on cue, the ground shook with another detonation from the fray above them.

“Of course,” he purred, slinking towards her casually as he put his pack and his shotgun down on the work table. She had migrated to a green box in the corner after methodically removing her armor and Pipboy. Now bent over the open chest and digging through the paltry weapons cache, she hummed happily as she found a bit of ammo. His hand had brushed over her hip smoothly as he went to lean over the crate as well. He paused, brow furrowing as he passed his hand over the curve again. A lecherous grin spread across his ruined lips for just a moment before disappearing with a light smack to her ass.

“John, do you think I can- hey!”

“Goin' commando? You can’t tempt a Ghoul like that, sunshine. Might give someone the wrong idea,” he rumbled against her, squeezing at her fat. “Anyways, I gotta give you a proper send off.”

“We’re gonna have all night,” she protested weakly as he continued to gently squeeze at her, straightening enough to give both hips a caress.

“Why wait on a good thing?” he shot back. That feral sheen twinkled in his eyes as he pulled her away from the chest, spinning her towards him and immediately shooting his hand up to her zipper. She let out a light, breathless laugh, reaching up to grasp his wrist tightly. “Can I help you?”

“You’re playin’ with fire, sister,” he rasped, free hand sliding behind her head to rest lightly on the back of her neck.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hummed playfully, her thumb gently rubbing over the notch of his wrist. “I’m just looking at some guns. Why? Want me to look at yours?”

“That was horrible. You know how I feel about that lazy humor shit.” He was amused, gently sliding his hand up to dig into her hair, still pushed back and out of her face. He pulled lightly, leading her head back to bare her neck as she let out a quiet sigh. He leaned forward slowly, nipping at the corner of her jaw, his other hand slowly beginning to tug her zipper down. She shivered at the sensations, her hands now clutching at the belt that crossed his chest.

“Worked, didn’t it?” she sassed back, huffing again as he slid his tongue down her jaw slowly before biting at the delicate skin of her neck. “Knock it off, you’re going to leave teeth marks,” Nora grumbled, hands sliding down to grasp onto his waistband.

“You don’t want something to remember me by?” he cooed softly into her ear, mouth working the skin underneath.

“I’m gonna be gone for a day or two- tops. Not even long enough for you to miss me.” As Hancock started to slip away, she tugged him closer with a jerk. They both let out a sound of surprise as he flew into her, knocking the both of them to the ground. Nora landed hard with an oof, letting out another grunt when he fell right on top of her. She released a long groan as they just laid there for a moment, letting the pain run its course before attempting to move. He lifted himself over her, chuckling breathlessly.

“If you wanted to get under me so bad, all ya had to do was ask,” he chuckled. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was tight, pinched with discomfort. “Just- gimme a second. Knocked the air outta me.” He lifted himself off her completely, settling next to her unceremoniously with an exhale. They quietly sat there for a few moments before she started laughing. He glanced over at her and started chuckling too, her hand reaching up to grasp at his pant leg.

“Fucking Buffout,” she chuckled, other hand settling on her forehead, elbow up. “What a chem.”

“We still got some time with it in our systems,” he hummed, leering down at her. “Wanna make the best of it?”

“What were you thinking? Arm wrestle?” she teased lightly, looking up at him.

“Oh we can certainly wrestle, love,” he purred, leaning down to kiss her lightly. She huffed as he pulled away promptly. “And I’m sure you’ll like how it ends.”

“Last night it ended with you eating all the way through my pussy to my brain.”

“And I heard no complaints,” he rasped, kissing her chastely again.

“John.” He grinned at her hungry look.

“I know ya like getting manhandled, killer. All tough out in the Wasteland but all soft under me. Ain’t that right?” He rolled on top of her, pressing his lips wetly to her soft cheek. Nora grumbled and tried to roll out from under him to escape his mouth, which was attempting to kiss her on the other cheek just as obnoxiously.

“You’re a punk,” she protested, shoving roughly at his shoulders. He flew back into an upright position, straddling her waist with wide, black eyes. His surprised gaze met hers, and he watched as her pupils dilated and her mouth split into a severe grin. “Oh, I think I like this.”

“You wanna play rough? Then let’s play rough,” Hancock mused casually, hands shooting out to close around her wrists. She managed to move before him, though, bucking her hips hard, pushing him forward roughly. His hands and knees scraped against the dirty ground as his hat flew off his head, his body sliding forward. He was disoriented for just a moment- though that was all Nora needed to slide her own hands up to his belt, which was now hovering close to her face, and quickly begin to pull at it. He let out a choked sound and looked down sharply when he felt her hand close around his length and start to pump.

“Nora,” he breathed, one hand sliding down to bury itself in her not-so-tidy hair as he vaguely felt the cool air suddenly hit his gnarled cock. The temperature shock became even more apparent as she swallowed him down completely, length halfway to hard. He groaned as she kept him down her throat, feeling himself swell and pulse on her tongue while her hands landed on his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he bit out. “All the way down.” He tried rocking his hips to pull out of her mouth but her harsh grip on him immediately stopped him in his tracks. He practically felt his bones creak as her tongue ran up the underside of his length again. “Fuck, c’mon, lemme move.” He tried shallow thrusts against her lips again, but her grip was unrelenting. She swallowed around him and he groaned, pulling carefully on her hair. She let out an answering groan at the tension against her scalp, his eyes fluttering shut at the vibration.

(She moaned so pretty with his cock in her mouth.)

“C’mon, Nora,” Hancock rasped roughly down at her, opening his eyes to catch her watery gaze. She looked so pleased at the situation, her eyes hooded, content. “C’mon, I’ll do anything- just lemme move.” She squeezed at his hips once more before gently easing her grasp. He pulled back slowly with a moan, the suction of her mouth overwhelming. His knees awkwardly shuffled forward to more precisely align his cock with her face; easier, now, for him to push into her warm mouth. Her whine echoed as he pulled out to the point that only his cratered head rested on her tongue, barely rocking to keep himself past her lips, sliding his leaking cock back and forth.

Drool slowly began to drip down the sides of her face as he edged further into her mouth. Wet sounds filled the bunker as he felt her hands slide to his ass, leading his thrusts deeper into her mouth. He let out a shaky breath as he felt the sharp sensation of her hand slapping against his ass, bucking deep down her throat. She gurgled, gagging around him, causing him to buck again. She choked once more, her stomach lurching. He did it one more time before letting out a choked moan, his warm, irradiated cum sliding straight down her throat. He pulled out quickly as he climaxed, jerking his cock to deposit his remaining spend onto her face, painting stripes across her lips and cheeks with a long moan. They both panted, Nora’s eyes fluttering closed with a smile splitting her features. He knew she must have felt his heavy gaze on her as she slid her wet tongue along her lips, collecting the cum and swallowing it down.

“Glad you took that Rad-X earlier,” he breathed.

“Mhm. Best battery acid I’ve ever tasted, hands down,” she agreed, peering up at him. He let out a startled laugh, releasing his length to let it hang between them. His amusement didn’t last long, though- his breath catching as he felt her hand close around him, sliding it smoothly along his spit-soaked length. “I want more, though,” Nora hummed.

“I gotta- I gotta catch my breath, baby- I can’t- fuck,” he hissed, bucking into her hand. “Fucking Buffout.”

“Makes sense why you’re still so hard,” she hummed, craning her neck up to give a kitten lick to the head, followed by a little kiss. “You alright?”

“Yeah, ‘m alright,” he breathed out, a shiver shaking his frame as she continued to work him.

“Increased endurance, right? Wonder how many we can get out of you…”

Chapter Text

“You little-“ His chuckled warning didn’t exactly have the impact he’d wanted when he tapered off into a whiny moan, rolling into her wet mouth as she closed her puffy lips around him again.

This time she was infinitely more lazy in her attack, sucking on his head and slipping her grip up and down his length. Even her lighter touches registered on his ruined nerve endings, alight with overstimulation. He let out a pained noise as her grip slowly tightened around him, the rough drag of her palm along the slick length of his cock making him dizzy. He already felt like he was approaching his edge again, supremely sensitive. He desperately tried to pull out of her mouth, but all she did was swallow him down deeper.

“Baby- Nora please, please," he choked on his words, unsure if he wanted her to take him out of her clever mouth or pull him deeper. She seemed to decide for him, dragging her teeth lightly down his cock, gently catching on the crevices and whispering along the bulging vein lining the underside. He let out a strangled sound, jerking shallowly onto her tongue, trembling above her as he dumped what little he had left into her mouth. As he pulled out slowly, shuddering against the warmth of her, stray rivulets of spend dripped down her cheeks, mixing with the spit that was quickly drying on her face. He straightened into a shaky straddle over her chest.

"Two in a row- fuck-" he panted.

She looked like the cat that got the cream.

(Heh, pun.)

Her lashes fluttered coyly, grinning before splitting her lips and sticking her tongue out, showing him his load sitting pretty. He dove down immediately, pulling her forward under him by wrapping his hands under her underarms and dragging her- careful of her head- until he was settled once more in a straddle over her hips, his lips slamming into hers. She whined loudly as his tongue didn’t spare a second, licking into her mouth. She gave as good as she got, though, their mouths swapping spit and cum obscenely. When he pulled away, a string connected them, his tongue out as he panted.

“Goddamn, Nora.”

“Please hold your applause,” Nora breathed hard, hands rubbing gently along his thighs. “Couldn’t resist some payback after that one radstorm.”

“Heh. Is that what payback looks like to you?” he rasped, cock still an angry red and twitching, excess spend dripping off of his tip and pooling on the blue material of her vault suit. “If it is, I gotta start doin’ ya dirty a little more often.”

“I think you do me dirty plenty enough, thanks,” she laughed, hoarse.

“Could always be dirtier,” he retorted playfully, leaning down to kiss her once more before slowly easing himself up to stand over her. He moved to grab one of the rags they used to make Molotov cocktails from his pack and returned to her side quickly, glancing at his companion.

His pleased expression faltered as he noticed her sudden silence, her face falling flat as her eyes roved over every inch of him. He glanced down at himself, holding back a wince at what he could only imagine he looked like. Ruined cock a darker red than usual, twitching and dripping in a vulgar display, his gnarled pelvis and lower stomach out for her to see. His hands twitched to stuff himself back into his pants to escape her intense gaze but he managed to stay still, a grimace forming on his face.

“John?” This time he did wince at the tenderness of her tone.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

(Talk about whiplash.)

“Not this again,” he joked weakly. When she didn't let out even a snicker, he squinted at her in confusion, searching her eyes. He was met with overwhelming warmth in her gaze, her teeth biting into her lower lip and worrying the swollen skin.

“And I'll say it over and over until you believe me. You’re gorgeous,” she repeated quietly. “And I’m very lucky to have you in my life.” Hancock couldn’t control the shiver that raced through his body as he reached down to hand her the rag.

“Can’t keep sayin’ shit like that, baby. Gonna make a Ghoul fall in love with that kinda sentimental talk.” He tried to keep his tone light but failed spectacularly, his voice dropping into a tight rasp.

“Can’t have that,” she murmured her agreement back, sharing a look with him as her fingers brushed his.

They stayed there quietly as the sounds of battle persisted above them, another missile making its home above them while Nora dabbed the drying cum off of her face. Neither of them flinched, though, thoroughly enraptured. He could swear he grew pores and was sweating buckets. The overwhelming sense of don’t fuck this up echoed in each empty space of his heart, the organ squeezing painfully in his chest. With one particularly wicked squeeze, the thought shot through his entire body like good 'ole Benny Franklin with a key and a kite.

(He was head over heels in love with this woman. Really, truly in love.)

Hancock prided himself in being able to read people. Whether it was for trade deals or helping the people of Goodneighbor, welcoming a new drifter into their fold or vetting new Neighborhood Watchmen, it was a skill that he had been practicing for years. When he really took a good look at the woman lying supine under him, he saw his own gaze reflected back at him.

(She was just as fucked as he was.)

The thought fluttered through his head as his face pulled into a pleased expression, the sinew and muscle and rough skin tight around his mouth and eyes.

“I knew it,” he said after a moment of utter silence, as if the fray in the streets above them had even paused out of respect for their intimacy.

“What did you know?” She reached out to gently grasp his ankle, fingers working over the fold of his boot and under the cuff of his pants to seek out skin-to-skin contact. Her thumb brushed tenderly over the divots of his shin and the ruined skin of his leg.

“You’ve been usin’ those sweet talkin’ skills on me.” He bent over to wrap his arms under her armpits again, lifting her up with a grunt. She gasped, her grasp flying to his shoulders as he pulled her against him, her legs scrambling to wrap around his narrow waist. The dirty, cum-covered rag floated to floor, forgotten.

“Hey, no, I’m being honest-“ she protested, fingers digging harshly into his frock. He kissed her soundly, hands sliding one at a time to hold her up by her ass, squeezing roughly. He pulled away first, humming as she leaned forward for more.

“Nah, I know what you’re up to. Tryin’ to get an innocent Ghoul outta his clothes. Seen it time and time again.” He could feel her cheeks burning, her mouth moving to attempt to defend herself, but he quickly ground his still-angry cock along the seam of her vault suit, Buffout flooding his system. He watched her brain short circuit, the only noise coming from her a weak uhn. “C’mon, sunshine. Admit it. You’re just tryin’ to get me naked. Use my cock to get ya nice and stuffed.” He paired the accusation with another rough roll against her followed by a second squeeze of her ass. He watched as a haze fell over her eyes, her own hips meeting his halfway to slide against him.

He felt her tremble in his arms, squeezing him with her thighs. He bucked against her and noted the grunt she released, her right leg twitching. He pressed his forehead against hers, beginning a steady pace against her, the sounds of friction between him and her suit slowly becoming wetter and wetter. He didn’t have to glance down to see that his cum had soaked into her suit, easing the pull of the material against him. And if he was a betting man, which he was, he’d put all his caps on the fact that some of the moisture between them was from her, too, if her breathy moans were anything to go by. A wicked thought crossed his mind and he chuckled quietly, pressing his face into her cheek and kissing her loudly. Nora whined as he began a trail of wet, smacking kisses down to her neck. His tongue lolled out to run up her tense muscles, teeth brushing against her warm skin. She hiccuped, meeting each roll of his hips with a jerk, as if she couldn’t quite control her own movements.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he rasped against her. “Gotcha all worked up, huh?” The Sole Survivor was breathing hard in his grasp, his hands pressing into her ass, the fat spilling out between his fingers. “Gonna cum for me?” he purred smoothly against her neck, lightly mouthing the irritated skin. “I wanna see it, right in that tight lil’ vault suit. Make a mess.”

She nodded faintly, legs beginning to tremble around him. She opened her mouth but cut herself off sharply with a yelp as he dug his teeth into her, her pelvis jumping and eyes rolling back. He had the presence of mind to move his firm grasp to support under her shaking thighs, her eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming sensations, hips bucking against his- right on the cusp of an orgasm. His cock twitched with interest and he couldn’t help but continue to slide his length against her soaked heat, mouth still full of her neck. Nora whimpered, her hips at odds with her hands, wiggling in his grip to escape the onslaught while she pulled him closer. The Ghoul released her neck, immediately covering his teeth marks with a harsh suck, continuing to work the skin into a hot bruise. Nora started stuttering again, panting against him.

“So fucking- close- John-“  She tried to form a coherent thought but he could see her struggle to piece her words together, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. His tongue immediately darted out to lick it up as he started rolling against her again, backing her up against a wall to get more leverage. He pressed his ruined face against her temple as his own pleasure simmered at the base of his spine, back to a rolling boil. She wailed as his cock caught on the suit to pull it taut against her pussy, the head of his length sliding smoothly against her clit. He could feel her cunt clench around nothing, the spread of her fresh release soaking the blue material and joining his own dried spend that had splattered against her pelvis. Nora let out a grunt as the heat that sat low in her core exploded out, back arched against the wall and lips parted. He rocked against her slowly through her climax, the woman in his arms shaking and panting as she pushed at his shoulders weakly, gasping for air.

They caught their breath slowly against each other, her legs continuing to shake in his grip with little jerks at the aftershocks.

“Payback for the Day Tripper?” she finally rasped. He chuckled against her. “Bastard,” she threw at him with no venom.

“Heh. You think you can stand?” came his coy response, squeezing her thighs carefully. She gripped at his shoulders, nodding. He released one leg at a time as she clung to him, unsteady and still shaky as she found her footing.

“Fucking Buffout,” Nora muttered, still clinging to him as she trembled. He kept a grip on her hips to support her as the dopamine rush slowly settled in her system. Hancock felt the heat from her cheeks and chest like the first rays of light in the rising dawn.

(Sunshine, his mind supplied helpfully.)

“I’m startin’ to get the feeling that ya may like a little bit of muscle, baby,” he teased, reaching up with one of his ruined hands to brush a thumb over her burning cheek.

“Seems like I’m not the only one,” she mused weakly, reaching up with an unsteady hand to gently grasp his wrist and give it a light squeeze.

“Guilty,” he cooed, leaning forward to give her a soft kiss. She let out a quiet sound, her eyes sliding shut at the feeling of his mouth on hers. They stood there for a moment before she regained her balance, pulling apart. “You got another one in ya?” he asked as her gaze locked onto his still-twitching cock, glossy between them and smearing milky cum around her suit. She hummed absentmindedly, sliding her pointer finger from his base to his tip to watch it twitch. Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, eyelid sinking to half-mast as she let out a pleased sigh.

“It's shame,” she rasped, low and breathy. “Here I am, trying to get you out of your clothes and stuff me full, and you’re wasting it all on my suit.” She threw his words back at him with a lazy smile, glancing up. His cock jumped under her hand again, his grasp tightening minutely on her cheek, tugging at it gently. She laughed, trying to pull away. “Stop, stop!”

He joined in with her laughter, releasing her face and swooping in to kiss her again. They continued to chuckle into each other’s mouths, his hand now flying up to the zipper of her suit at the same time she started pushing his frock off his shoulders.

“Me first,” she pulled away to protest. “You said I was trying to get you naked. I gotta give the people what they want.”

“Dunno, sunshine. You’re awful dirty in that suit. Would hate for all that shit to dry on ya,” he snarked back, jerking the zipper down sharply. Perhaps a bit too sharply, because the small metal piece flew down her suit and right off the track. They blinked at each other blankly for a second before glancing at the zipper sitting pretty in his grasp. Their laughter started up again, Nora covering her mouth and bending at the waist to contain her guffaws. His own laughter was barking and harsh, vibrations against sandpaper as he tipped his head back. They were lucky that another explosion rocked the ground above them, a bit of dirt shaking loose in the corner and trickling from the ceiling before settling again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” she gasped, giggles breaking unbidden from her throat as she struggled to stand upright again. They caught their breath as he had the presence of mind to place the zipper carefully on the table next to her armor, still grinning in delight.

“See? I should’ve gone first,” she tittered, starting to shimmy out of the ruined suit.

“Hey, hey, what gives?” he demanded with his face still lit up with mirth.

“Undressing?” she shot back, the tops of breasts exposed.

“Now you’re tryna leave me out of a job?” Hancock accused, crossing back over to her quickly. “You said we were together, right? Partners?” Her laughter died off, her brows immediately furrowing.

“Yeah…?”

“Partners clean up each other’s messes,” he rasped lowly. “And you made a right mess, baby. Did such a good job of it, too.” Her eyes were big under his predatory gaze, caught off guard with lips parted as he slid her vault suit down slowly, peeling it off of her sweat-slick skin. He settled into a squat before her and sat back on his heels to pull it down and off of her legs, leaving her boots on.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to her thigh lightly, black gaze locked on her face. His teeth sunk into the skin slowly, his lips sucking harsher and harsher, his tongue brushing over the irritated dermis. She inhaled at the sensation, trying to shift her weight away from his mouth as her hands settled on the sides of his head, nails scraping against his ruined skin. He released her from his mouth abruptly and leaned back a bit to admire the angry teeth marks forming, dimpling her skin in a familiar pattern. Glancing up to see if she had any more complaints, he caught her looking down at him with wonder. If he could blush, he would have.

“My head’s gonna need another room if ya keep lookin’ at me like that,” he intoned. “Gonna give me an ego the size ‘a Diamond City.”

“Not my fault that you’re nice to look at,” she muttered with affection. “And if I take my eyes off of you for a second you’ll get into some sort of trouble.”

“Me? A troublemaker? Never,” he hummed, reaching over to grasp his tricorn lying on the ground a foot or two away. "And I believe the phrase is takes one to know one." He rose to his feet slowly, pausing to crack his back before he cornered her, a sly smile spreading across his features. She eyed him warily, playfully, as he placed his hat on her head snugly.

“What’s this?” she laughed lightly, glancing up.

“Consider it a courting gift,” he purred. “On loan, of course. Can’t have ya stealin’ my signature look.”

“Of course,” she deadpanned. “Because the coat is too subtle.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” He kissed her firmly before dropping to his knees again. Leaning forward and maintaining eye contact as he slid his tongue out to swipe between her lips, her chest stuttered with a hiccup. He coaxed her leg up over his shoulder as he spread her with one hand, his other anchoring her thigh. He hummed, leaning forward and lightly flicking his tongue over her swollen nub twice.

She ran her nails lightly over the Ghoulish skin of his scalp as she looked down at him, eyes hooded. He kept up his little affections, sliding his tongue along the seam of her, clit to hole to clit, spreading her arousal around her glossy cunt. Nora let out a low sound as he leaned forward to carefully take her clit into his mouth, sucking gently and smoothly passing the wet muscle of his tongue along her. He could tell how worked up she was again by the twitches of her stomach and the intermittent shaking of her anchored leg. Hancock started to increase the pressure of his mouth, sucking harder and licking firmly against her clit. He was awarded with a twitch and a whimper, and he grinned. As Hancock built up the pressure in her core carefully, lifting her towards a gentle orgasm, he abruptly nipped at her nub.

She shrieked as her head snapped up and her hips bucked weakly. “John!” was the only exclamation she could release before he had bullied his other shoulder under her thigh, his hands shooting up to her hips to steady her. Her breathing picked up sharply with a groan as he began to slowly lift her off the ground. Her body tensed against his head, trying to keep herself balanced on his shoulders.

“Fucking- Buffout!”

He straightened up and pressed her against the wall as his mouth buried further into her cunt. She was curled over him, the top of his head snug in her bust, his tongue sliding out to lick up some of her arousal. He could feel how her thighs trembled around his head, could feel her fighting not to writhe in his hold. 

The Ghoul hummed against her and sucked harshly, dipping his tongue in and out of her opening. He pulled back to rock his tongue over her clit again, wet slurps loud from between her legs. He nipped gently at her one more time before she squealed, her arousal wet on his face and his tongue desperate to continue to collect as much as he could. Nora panted above him, shaking, fingers digging into his scalp. He continued his onslaught and, as he felt her tremble less and less, he latched on harshly and sucked at her clit.

She made an inhuman noise, bucking in earnest against his mouth and grinding her heat against his tongue. Nora let out a long whine as she came, eyes screwed shut and a parody of language bubbling from her throat. She shook again as more of her slick dripped into his eager mouth, her inner thighs shiny around his face with the prolongation of her orgasm. He pulled back and took a big breath, absolutely soaked from nasal cavity to chin and shiny in the low light. He gently eased them back down, Hancock settling on his knees again to help her reach the floor. She stumbled as she tried to dismount him with legs like a newborn radstag, his tight grip on her hips the only thing keeping her upright.

“Th-thanks,” she panted, her hands wrapped around the collar of his frock. “Fuck.”

“Eloquent as always, love,” he rasped, gazing at her adoringly. She was none the wiser, though, as her head was tilted back against the wall, eyes closed as she caught her breath. His thumbs brushed over her hips gently and she shivered, goosebumps spreading across her skin. He eased himself up, standing with a grunt, his gaze meeting hers. She looked beat, eyes half-lidded and body weak against the wall. “Sounds like they're done up there. Let's get you cleaned up.” Her eyes opened wider and her hands slid down to his lapel.

“What if I’m not done yet?” His would-be eyebrows rose sharply.

“Baby, you can barely stand by yourself.”

“It’s not called the horizontal tango for nothing,” she shot back. He chuckled as he leaned to give her a kiss, mindful of the state his face was in. She seemed to have no misgivings though, her plush lips meeting his ardently. She held onto him tight, his own grip on her hips still firm.

“Lemme wipe myself off first,” he hummed as she pulled away. “Don’t wanna mess up that pretty face.” She scoffed as he eased his hands off of her and made his way over to search his pack for some purified water.

“Why? I like you covered in cum. It’s hot.” Cracking open the can, he poured a small amount into his hands and rubbed at his face before her cum dried in the crevices of his skin, turning and offering the can to Nora.

“Cause it’ll flake off all over ya if I let it dry. And I know you know how hard it is to get that shit outta your hair.” She took it graciously and managed a sip or two before handing it back. He looked at her, curious. “You sure you’re up for this, Nora?” She nodded, letting out a hum.

“I think I may have one more good one in me. How about you?”

“Yeah, I could keep goin’.” He shook his head while he chuckled. “Fuckin’ Buffout.”

“Your refractory time is normally pretty quick anyways.” She watched him put the can down before taking a step towards him, her fingers dancing over his collar again as she slid his coat off of his body while they talked. He shifted his shoulders backwards to assist, letting the frock fall into a heap on the floor, quickly joined by his vest and the strap that laid across his chest.

“Heh. Yeah- somethin’ ‘bout the rads, maybe? Honestly, I ain't sure. But I am sure I could go for hours without shootin’ a single blank.” She made quick work of his dirty ruffled blouse, tossing it over his head before sliding her fingers down his ribs to hook around the flag, untying it masterfully and with muscle memory. She finally reached his belt loops and tugged his pants off.

“You’re so humble,” she cooed sarcastically, kissing his cheek. He turned his head lazily to try and catch her mouth with his, but she had slid her lips down his neck, trying her best to work the skin into some not-so-subtle bruises. He chuckled against her, throat rumbling.

“Petty,” he mused, a hand sliding into her hair below his hat and tugging lightly. She let out a weak sound but was ultimately undeterred from her mission.

“Sure,” she muttered with a mouth full of his ruined skin.

“How d’ya want it, sunshine?” He tugged at her hair again at the faint feeling of her tongue laving over the craters of his neck.

“Don’t care,” she groaned. “Just need you inside of me.” She bit down on his neck before moving to mirror her attempts on the other side. He didn’t miss the possessive glint in her eye when she switched sides, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We need to get some more RadX in ya.” He pulled harder at her hair. Her nails bit into his waist and she inhaled sharply.

“The only thing I need in me is your cock.” She nosed at the junction of his jaw, licking up the side of the column of his neck. “I’m already swimming in rads.” His brow furrowed and he pulled her away from him to get a good look at her.

“You wanna look as good as this ugly mug?” She smiled smugly.

“What if I said yes? Would you still think I was pretty?”

“Baby, you could grow three extra arms and a tail and I’d still be barkin’ at your door.”

“Sweet talker,” she purred, taking advantage of his loosened grip on her hair to lean her body weight forward for a kiss. They stumbled back, his eye catching a mattress in the corner. He steered them over, picking her up again under her thighs and hefting her legs around his hips, earning himself a squeak of surprise.

He settled onto his knees with a huff and laid her down carefully, their lips never leaving each other’s. As soon as her back was resting on the mattress, he didn’t wait a moment; sliding into her smoothly, she released a choked sound, pulling her mouth away from him to gasp as he bottomed out.

“Fuck- that’s- that’s so fucking good-“ She choked on her words as he pulled back and gave a sharp thrust, his grasp on her thighs tight, teeth nipping at the top of her chest to leave more bruises.

He picked up his pace quickly, slowly but surely pressing her thighs out and back to spread her open further. Her cries crept up in pitch the more he folded her up until they were nothing but pinched breaths, her eyes glassy as he ground into her heat. Her hands flew to her thighs to overlap with his, helping to hold her trembling legs back and open to maintain the mating press. Hancock’s eyes trailed down her body to settle on where he speared her open, watching with rapt attention how she split to give way to his length, wet sounds of skin slapping against skin saturating the air. His fingers dug harshly into the fat and muscle of her thighs, slowly continuing to push them back until her pelvis was tilted up in the air, pussy glistening in the light.

He shifted onto the balls of his feet to follow her, the angle pulling a loud groan from the Ghoul. Nora’s eyes were near crossed at the sensation, panting hard under him, hiccuping at each bump of his head against her cervix. 

“Perfect, baby, so perfect for me,” he cooed, more to himself than her. “You feel so good. Attagirl- just like that, yeah, squeeze me-“ he babbled, rocking sharply into her. “Fuck, is that my cock?” He could just make out the feel of a bulge in her stomach, one of his hands migrating to press carefully against the faint outline. She made a new sound- one he hadn’t heard before- and squeezed down on him hard as her muscles started trembling uncontrollably in his grasp.

(That’s one for the memory banks.)

“Gonna gimme a good one, love?” he continued, “Gonna let me stuff you full? Get'cha nice and drippin’ with me.”

“Please, please-“ She could barely form coherent words, fighting for air like his cock was occluding her airway with each roll of his hips. “John, please.” He vaguely noted that she must have been getting close, her vocabulary limited, her noises loud and her pussy tight.

“Always ask so pretty,” he huffed, practically squatting as he continued to rut into her, thumb sliding around where they were connected. The gathered slick made the glide of the mutated whorls of his fingers smooth. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking-” he choked on a groan.

“Gonna cum-“ she hiccuped at the rhythmic pressure against nub. “I’m- John- wanna-!” Nora gasped, jerking under him as he kept driving into her. She twitched, pulsed, and fluttered around him, body stiff as she approached her orgasm. Her hips moved in a weak attempt to roll against him, the undulations of her hips pulling sloppier sounds from their coupling. He grit his teeth as he kept pushing through the overstimulation as he came, pushing her further back. Her neck bent at an odd angle, her shoulders touching the ground, back curved with her pussy in the air. He adjusted his position over her, trembling himself and tilting his hips so his cock could hit her deeper at a sharp angle.

Her hands scrambled, still shaking, to spread her thighs wider to maintain her position as he plowed into her, huffing as she let out a string of unintelligible noises. A haze over her eyes as she stared up at him desperately, he could practically see her clit pulse with each heartbeat, swollen and reaching out for his attention. Hancock lifted his ruined hand to his mouth, giving his thumb a vulgar lick before reaching down once more to lightly brush against her clit, a barely-there touch that had her screeching, clamping down on him so hard that his thrusts were limited to tiny, sharp movements, pushing as far as he could go inside of her.

“That’s right baby, keep squeezin’ me. Gonna give ya every drop, bein’ such a good girl for me,” he stuttered, his own eyes rolling back as he let out a rough grunt before he jerked again, flooding her one last time. Nora let out a low moan at the feeling, shivering at the sensation. He vaguely recalled that she had said it felt warm going down her throat, so he could safely assume that she was experiencing a similar sensation when his cum was settling in her cunt. He stayed snug inside of her, plugging her as she continued to jerk for a good long while under him, the sensations coaxing more beads of sweat down her body. He had enough coherence to gently lead them back down to the mattress, pressing his forehead against the side of her neck and panting together, chest to chest.

“Fuck me,” the Ghoul breathed out, running a hand up her ribs carefully.

“Again?” She sounded like she was about to cry. His chuckle was more of a rasp, his lack of nose rubbing harshly against the soft skin of her chest. They sat there quietly for another moment before he opened his mouth again.

“Two,” he breathed gruffly.

“No more,” she choked.

“You’re gonna need two RadAway,” he continued. “Can practically see ya glowin’.”

“Just wanna be pretty like you,” Nora managed.

“I’ll never understand ya, baby.”

“Then take my word for it, asshole.”

“Don’t talk dirty,” he chastised. “Gonna get me goin’ again.”

“Fucking Buffout.”

Chapter Text

Hancock had never bought into the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder before, and he now firmly believed it to be total bullshit.

He had seen glimpses of his Vaultie, had seen her drift into town on the wind and be gone just as quick. It had been weeks since she had gone to the Institute, and she wasn’t the only one who had changed after.

He could still remember their night together before she had left; their entanglement was intense and passionate. They made love, she had said. He asked how she figured that, and she said simply, because I love you. He was so stunned he forgot to respond.

She was twitchy every time she saw him now, coming into the Old State House quiet as a mouse, sliding into his arms with bags under her eyes and tender skin on every inch of her he touched. She had been traveling without her signature blue vault suit and her eyes looked duller every time he saw her. She seemed like a husk of herself. He sat with himself, not infrequently, going over and over in his head how everything had gone down.

She hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened during her time at the Institute, just reappeared with a zap! and a quiet I found him before promptly passing out. That evening, as the sun was slowly setting, he had heard Deacon calling to him from down the road in Sanctuary. “What’s up?” Hancock flicked the ash off of his cigarette.

“I’m, uh. Concerned. About Bullseye.” The Ghoul didn't hold back a twitch of his eye. He hated when they called her that- used that stupid codename. Made it impersonal. Like she was just a pretty tool.

(Nothing but a weapon.)

“Was just bringin’ some water back for her,” he answered as casually as he could manage. Why was the Railroad agent coming to him with this? Hancock was more than aware of his partner’s struggles. He’d been at her bedside since she had gotten back. “Why?”

“She doesn’t seem like she’s in a great place right now,” the spy picked his words carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. Like, ever.” Hancock frowned.

“Thanks,” he muttered, picking up his pace as he made his way back towards the shelter Nora occupied, putting out his cigarette and gathering the cans of purified water he’d collected in his arms.

When he had re-entered the ramshackle house they’d all but claimed as their own, he walked in on Nora sitting on the couch in the living room. Her hair was unkempt, shaky breaths rattling in her chest.

“Nora,” he rasped quietly. She didn’t indicate that she had heard him, and when he came around to her front, he saw why. Tears steadily dripped down her face and he could hear how stuffed her nose was with each measured breath. Her eyes were dull, locked straight ahead on nothing. Her back was similarly straight, a picture of anything but comfortable. He dropped to a squat in front of her after depositing the cans on the ground, taking her wet cheeks in his hands. “Hey.”

She just let out another shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears gathering on her lash line and overflowing to cover her cheeks. They dripped down her chin, outlining the fingers carefully- so carefully- holding her face. No matter how he tried to catch her gaze, he felt like she was staring through him.

He wished he was stabbed. He wished he was shot. He wished he was choked, maimed, blown to bits.

(Anything but this kind of pain.)

The thought came to him with a sudden, visceral pain-

(- helpless. He felt helpless.)

“C’mere,” he murmured quietly, sitting beside her and gently guiding her into his arms. A weak choke dislodged from her throat before her jaw clenched, the muscles working for only a second to clamp down on any other noises. She at least went along with his coaxing, letting her back slowly relax from its ramrod-straight posture. They sunk into the beat up cushions, his hands careful as they glanced across her arms and back in gentle sweeps. They didn’t speak again that night, and when he woke up, curled against her-

(When had he fallen asleep?)

-she was awake, the same dull sheen over her eyes, red coloring the whites in a terrible definition of bloodshot. He could feel the tension in her body, see the puffy skin surrounding her eyes. All at once, he realized that she hadn’t slept, maybe at all. He let out a shaky breath himself, his fingers tracing her jaw to lead her face towards him. With a gentle press of his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes, and she choked on another painful sob. She cut it off too quickly for the noise to manifest, and his heart broke into pieces.

Since that night, she had been all over the Commonwealth- seeming to travel with everyone but him. He had heard from her other companions that she had been going out of her way to help each one, like MacCready with his kid’s cure, Cait with her addiction to Psycho, and Nick with his Eddie Winter case. It made something twinge in his chest.

So here he was, his heart not fonder but desperate. It didn’t help that they hadn’t really shared any intimacy, sex or otherwise, since she had left. And when they did manage to cuddle up on the couches, it felt like she was somewhere else.

(Not a great feeling when your partner’s not into it.)

He had steered clear of even offering sex when she came through town, even when she herself brought it up. He could practically hear how forced and automatic it was, like she was offering herself as a transaction.

He had spiraled a little- a lot- after that.

She didn’t say that she loved him again, would just pull away from his grasp when she left with a press of her lips to his ruined cheek. She would have this look like she wanted to say it, say something, before promptly turning around and hurrying out of the State House, out of Goodneighbor. If it was hell for him, he could only imagine how she felt.

Currently in her most recent visit, Nora had staggered in when he and Fahrenheit were lounging on the couches opposite each other, discussing a new gang that had started recruiting in the neighborhood.

"We got some intel. Sounds like there’s a few unhappy regulars- Finn’s boys. Looking for some payback."

“They miss the memo or somethin’? That shit’s old news,” he scoffed. She froze in the doorway, her hands shaking and her face taking on a pallor.

“S-sorry to interrupt,” she rasped. Her stutters didn’t overtake him with fondness now. Just concern.

“Hey, sunshine,” he intoned softly, scowl immediately dissipating, patting the seat next to him. She stood stock still in the doorway, eyes locked not on him, but the pile of chems on the coffee table. Hancock and Fahrenheit shared a glance.

“Hi,” her voice cracked. “Uhm- yeah, so, sorry, but, uh- I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it, sister, and it’s yours.” She physically recoiled, as if hit. He immediately sat up straight. “Nora?” She took a shuddering breath, bracing herself.

“I, uh- I’m out of Jet and need to go into Deathclaw territory. I was- I was just wondering if you’d, uh. If I could borrow some? I’ll pay you back.” He frowned and looked at her until he caught her gaze. They held a stare for a moment before she looked down and away. He stood, putting his cigarette out.

“What’s mine is yours. But…” he paused as she began to take a step forward and froze at his words, eyes big and locked onto him again. “Let’s sit and chat first. I miss ya.”

Her lips parted and her bottom one wobbled, as if fighting back tears, before she took a beat to search his soft gaze again. He tried to project all of the warmth and comfort she usually gave him; tried to not scare her off. It seemed to do the opposite, though. She looked spooked, panicked- immediately turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs. He didn’t waste a moment in running after her, throwing his casual countenance to the wind. She managed to make it through the front gate as he stumbled out of the State House, disappearing into thin air.

He cursed lowly and rushed back into the building to gather his pack and weapons. He and Fahrenheit didn’t exchange any words as he threw his gear together before he hurried out of the town. He popped two Mentats, then a third for good luck.

The sun had started to set when he finally managed to track her down, her footprints sloppy and all but covered. A roll of thunder had him glancing up at the sky before making his way into a derelict building, the top two floors open to the elements. He swept the place quickly as the rain started- a rare non-irradiated thunderstorm- and eventually spotted a few broken bobby pins in front of the basement door, reflecting the dim light of the setting sun. Easing it open with a small creak, he stepped in carefully, mindful of the rickety stairs, and closed the door behind him to re-engage the lock.

It was dark in the small space, junk littering every shelf and many parts of the floor. Dirt clung to each surface and the air was wet with moisture. Two bunches of glowing fungus emitted a soft, eerie light, barely casting a shadow on the huddled, trembling form in the far corner.

His chest burned.

“Nora, baby, that you?” He tried to keep his voice as soft and low as he could with his natural rasp. He received a whimpered Hancock in response, soft sniffles erupting from the dark corner, faint mumbling an undercurrent in the air. As he approached cautiously, he was able to make out some of the words.

“Sorry- ‘m so sorry- ‘m sorry-" His stomach dropped.

“Hey, love, it’s okay, you’re alright. No harm done, see? All good.” He took another few small steps towards her and she flinched, shuffling as far into the corner as she could. He could barely make out her hair hanging loose around her, dirty, face hidden as she maintained a fetal position. “C’mere,” he hushed quietly, slowly squatting a few feet in front of her. “Talk to me.”

“Hancock,” she rasped.

“Yeah, baby.”

“I fucked up.”

“You just got a little overzealous. Ain’t no shame in it.”

“Don’t help me.”

“What?”

(Fucking gut punch.)

“Made my own mess. Gotta clean it up.” Her voice lilted up as her throat tightened, choking on her tears, breaking out into sobs. “It’s my- it’s my fault.”

“Hey, hey, Nora, c’mon now,” he rumbled, shifting closer in an odd shuffle, still squatting. “Let me help. Please?”

“I can’t do it, I can’t,” he managed to make out through her warbling voice. "I can’t. I can’t hurt-" she choked on her words.

“Who? Who can’t you hurt?” He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew how that went. He’d been in her exact position before.

“Shaun.” That certainly stunned him into silence.

(Okay, so maybe not her exact position.)

“It’s him. He runs the Institute. He’s responsible- for- for all of it. I made a monster," she sobbed louder, voice hoarse and body shaking uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault.”

“That’s why you been usin’ like that, huh?” he murmured softly. Her choked wail was all the answer he needed. He quickly shed his frock and moved slowly, oh so slowly, to wrap it around her shaking form. She flinched and wailed again, as if in physical pain.

(She was, his mind supplied. Withdrawal was torture- both mentally and physically.)

He knew that pain well. Then the thought hit him right in the chest.

(How long had she been withdrawing?)

“C’mere, love. You’re my girl, huh? We’re partners. We clean up our messes together.” She cried harder at that, curling into herself further, away from him.

“No- no-“

“It’s okay, we’ll get ya through this, alright?”

“You don’t- you can’t- you don’t even love me!” He stopped dead.

“Woah, woah, hold up- what?”

“I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have said shit,” she sobbed in earnest. “So stupid-“

“Who told ya that, huh?”

“You.”

“I would never-“ He cut himself off, mind working into overdrive- and realized what she meant with a start.

He had never said it back.

“Oh.”

(Thank god for those Mentats he took.)

He wasn’t sure he would’ve remembered so quickly otherwise. His brain got a little fuzzy when he saw Nora like this, a single-minded focus typically overtaking his thought processes-

(-help her.)

“‘A course I love ya, idiot,” he cooed lowly. “Have since we started traveling together. You’re it for me.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she cried. “Please.”

(Look at him, fucking up the one good thing he’s got.)

“Ain’t lyin’, sunshine. Can’t get rid ‘a me that easy.”

“Hancock, please. Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry baby, can’t do that. Not gonna have you ride this out by yourself. Ain’t a pretty picture, and I know ya don’t have any chems.”

“I can t-take care-“ she paused to cough, chest rattling. “I can take care of mys-” she choked as her wails tapered off into a stream of hiccups and sniffles. He could vaguely make out that she was trembling under his coat, his gnarled fingers brushing over her shoulder. She let out a wounded noise but couldn’t back up any further.

“Let’s get ya through this, then we can figure the rest out together.” It felt odd to be pushing this hard; he was a huge proponent of people living their own lives and making their own decisions, regardless of how stupid those decisions could be. He made more than his fair share of them in his own life, still did in present day.

(But this was not a time to be making stupid decisions.)

He knew she was fragile, could practically see the glass she was made out of. He needed to approach with tact, which wasn’t always his forte. But withdrawal? He knew that monster well. He dug out two inhalers, shaking them vigorously, noting the flinch the abrupt noise pulled from the Sole Survivor.

“Two options here, sunshine. Either way, I ain’t one to judge. Alright?” His black eyes were locked on her, taking in every twitch and shiver. In one hand, he gripped a Jet inhaler. The other, Addictol. The fact that they practically looked like a copy of the other wasn’t lost on him. She peeked up at him, her eyes locked on the Jet canister in his hand. She reached out, tentative, her fingers brushing the red of the inhaler. Eyes wet as she looked up at him like a kicked puppy. “Just a puff, Nora. One big one, and then we can sit and talk. I know how much ya like to spoon.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then we sit in silence. Whatever that little heart desires.” He shook the inhalers in front of her again as she pulled her hand away. “C’mon, sunshine. For me?”

“Why won’t you just leave me?”

“‘Cause I love you, baby. Just told ya so and everything. You get distracted my body or somethin’? Happens to the best of us,” he tried to tease lightly, searching her face to see if it landed.

“You’re just saying that. Cause I’m up-upset.”

“Ya told me once to not blow smoke.”

“Yeah.”

“I ain’t.”

Nora was quiet at that, continuing to sniffle and twitch, her breath intermittently hitching like she was about to start crying again. She seemed to just manage to keep the sobs down in her chest- one or two escaped, but the rest emerged as hiccups.

“Will it hurt? If I take the Addictol,” she whispered. He shook his head.

“You’ll get nauseous. Nervous. But we’ve lived through worse, huh? Made of tougher stuff.” He tried to glance his hand across her knee this time and, though she flinched again, it was less aggressive.

(Progress.)

“I don’t wanna be tough anymore,” the Sole Survivor whispered. Hancock’s fingers flexed around the inhalers at her delicate tone.

“Them lemme be tough enough for the both of us. Sound good?” Her bottom lip wobbled at the earnest tone. “Here. You want a hand? Be happy to help ya, baby.” He watched her consider her options, watched her eventually and warily brush her shaking fingers along the Addictol before nodding vaguely. He popped off the cap to the mouthpiece and held it out for her as she leaned forward minutely, wrapping her cracked lips around it and closing her eyes tightly. He pressed down as she took a stuttering breath, sucking it down dutifully. “Atta girl. Ya did great.” He pocketed the Jet as casually as he could as she inhaled.

“How long?”

“Pretty quick. It okay if I sit with ya?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, jumping at the rumble of thunder above them.

“You’re safe, sunshine. Just a regular storm, no rads for us Ghouls tonight,” he joked, offering a smile. “No need to beat me off ya with a stick.” She was quiet as he settled next to her, his back against the cinderblock wall, gaze upwards.

“Listen- I should… I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. She didn’t respond for a few moments.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little chem addiction. But-“ he paused, searching for the right words. He scratched his cheek. “I told you I’d be with ya every step of the way. You trusted me to help you try out chems and I let you down. Shoulda talked to you earlier, seen the signs, helped ya navigate all this. This shit ain't no joke.” He shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “Knew you weren’t in a great place. I fucked up.”

“This is on me, John.” Hearing her say his name was like the rain clouds parted just for him to experience a beam of sunlight on his wrinkled face. “I knew I was- overdoing it. Knew I should have talked to y-“ She cut herself off by dry heaving and throwing herself onto her hands and knees. He leaned over and moved to hold her hair out of her face as her stomach lurched and nothing but bile came out. His own stomach sank.

(Had she even been eating?)

“Fuck,” she wheezed. “Fuck.”

“Let it out, I gotcha.”

“I’m a fucki-“ She interrupted herself with another heave, swaying. He positioned himself next to her so she could lean into him while she hurled, his hand still dutifully in her hair, his other stroking her back soothingly as she shook.

“You can be self-deprecating after you’re through all this,” he rasped. “Not a second before.”

“Why’re you being so nice to me?” She was hoarse. “I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, you are.” His fingers were careful as they brushed up and down her back gently. “But you’re my mess.”

“Doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better, John,” she intoned. “I’ve been so sh-“ Nora retched under his hands again, dry heaving, spit dripping out of her mouth.

“None ‘a that,” he insisted again. “Ya never judged me before. Why would I judge you?”

“I dunno,” she mumbled roughly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve me plenty, Nora,” he argued. “You’re the piece I'd always been missing- that and that toe I still can't find...” He earned a snort at that, a small but warm smile spreading over his face at the small victory. “All done?”

“I think I have nothing else to bring up.” She spat one more time in her puddle, then slowly sat up and back against the wall again, leaving a few feet between her and the pool of bile. Hancock wiped at her face, cleaning the spittle off of her mouth and chin with the sleeve of his blouse before helping her settle back. Pulling his frock back over her, he reached over to her pack and dug around for some purified water. He popped it open and handed it to her, tucking in to sit next to her and press his shoulder against hers as she trembled. He supported her grip on the can of water when she brought it up to her mouth, noting the beads of sweat dripping down her face. He encouraged another two sips before he withdrew his hands.

“I thought you liked when people were addicted,” she rasped, clutching the water close.

“I appreciate when people use their chems. And if they happen to get addicted, I’m happy to help out. Ya dig?”

“You like to be useful.”

(Well. Guess she wasn’t pulling any punches.)

“Shootin’ from the hip, I see.” He went to grab a cigarette, but thought better of it and settled again. “Addiction is one thing. Withdrawal is a different animal.” It was silent for only a minute, his gaze never leaving her. He could practically hear her gears turning, her mind racing, and decided a good 'ole fashioned distraction was in order. “My pop used to take me fishing. Never caught anything that didn't try to eat us first, but damn if it wasn't fun,” he mused, relaxing back against the wall and looking up at the dark ceiling. She glanced at him.

“I didn’t know that,” she murmured. “You don’t talk about your family much.”

“Neither do you,” he responded. She sat there for a moment in silence before acquiescing to his unspoken request.

“They weren’t very happy with me,” Nora mumbled. “I definitely was not the favorite.”

“I know the feeling,” he chuckled. “You only had a brother too, right?” They had, of course, discussed him before. More than once. And as odd as it was, and as upset as she got when the topic came up, she told him once that it was cathartic; he never argued, could see fondness in her eyes when she thought about the guy. She nodded.

“My brother was the perfect kid to my parents. He-“ Her lips twitched in vague amusement. “He was certainly something. Drove me absolutely crazy. Had a temper and always got into trouble, but knew how to smooth talk; much better than I ever did.” A sharp breath whistled through her stuffy nose. “Part of me thinks that’s what got him killed- the pressure of expectations. To be better.” She was quiet for a moment, then cleared her throat, though the rasp remained. “Once he started really using- I don’t think he had a chance.” Her smile was weak and watery. “I had always wished I could understand what he was going through, that he would have reached out.” He could hear her throat click as she swallowed. “Now I know why he didn’t.”

“You‘ve never given me shit for my chem use.” He turned to face her. She cleared her throat again, grasping at the can of water. He reached out to help her take a sip.

“Why would I?”

“Not many people would go for a Ghoul junkie. Even one with my kinda charisma.”

“I’m just with you for your body, remember?” she said flatly, glancing at him. He grinned at her.

“Knew it.” They were quiet for a moment, her hand shaky and tentative as she reached for his. He didn’t even blink, taking a hold and bringing her knuckles up to his mouth for a whisper of a kiss.

“It’s never been in me, to do that,” she explained quietly, eyelids drooping as she looked over at him, holding his black gaze. “I’m no saint. I have my own issues- obviously.” She motioned to herself with a jerk of her head, shoulders beginning to shake. He re-wrapped her in his frock again. “Even before my brother’s death, it just didn’t feel right to be passing judgement on someone else’s struggles. Doesn’t make you any less of a person, doesn’t take away your worth. And it’s not like society made staying clean easy.” She gazed at him with an emotion he couldn’t name, but it made him feel dizzy, warm. Like he had one shot too many at the Third Rail.

“You’re too good, Nora. Certainly for this shitshow of a world.”

“I couldn’t disagree more,” she whispered, looking down at her lap. His ruined finger gently slid under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze again. Tender. She shuddered under his touch, but thankfully seemed to have settled some with the Addictol. Her eyes were wet in the dim light.

“I mean it,” he asserted. “And I’m not gonna take any moment with ya for granted. Ain't been an easy road, but it was worth it to get to you.” She just sniffled, her hands digging into the edges of his vest, a raw look of devotion painted across her face. He didn’t need to say a word to project the same ardor. Still, he smiled as their lips brushed.

“Don’t kiss me,” she muttered as they leaned into each other. “I just threw up.”

“Now when has bodily fluid ever stopped me from kissing you?” he teased quietly. They sat close, breathing in each other’s air. Thunder shook the building again, making her tense. Hancock pulled her into his arms smoothly, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her temple. They were quiet before he leaned his ruined lips down to her ear. “I love you, Nora. You and me together? The world ain’t got a prayer.”

Chapter Text

Things slowly began to return to something closer to normal- whatever they considered that these days. He was careful in his use of Jet around her for a bit before she caught on and chastised him for babying her. He had outright laughed at her in the Old State House for saying so and had found himself on his back quickly after, the two tussling. A snarl on her face, a grin on his. When Fahrenheit had walked in on it, she had immediately turned around and left the room.

They still hadn’t re-engaged in their typically excessive sex life, but he wasn’t particularly concerned about that. He was more than happy to take himself in hand if he was hard pressed.

(Heh. Pun.)

He was just happy to have her to curl around at the end of the day, their fingers intertwined and their conversations quiet, mumbles in the quiet of night. She came around much more, a regular fixture in Goodneighbor once again. Every time that she came up to see him in his office, she’d have a some sort of gift or plant in her hands and an embarrassed look on her face.

“Should I be concerned ‘bout the amount of shit people been givin’ you?” he mused once as she came in, mutated fern bright and healthy in a pot her hands, the sunset contained by the boards over most of the windows.

“Daisy keeps giving me things,” she mumbled, cheeks burning.

“I smell a crush,” he teased, eyes tracing the plant as she put it down in the corner with the rest of the foliage she’d accrued.

“You caught me,” she said lightly, brushing off her hands and standing up. “How can I help it? She’s a good-looking Ghoul. And sweet as pie. Sharp as a tack, too. She might give you a run for your money.” He chuckled, putting his cigarette out.

“She’s just happy to have you to yap with.”

“Sure, we discuss very meaningful and important topics.”

“Yeah? Like where to get a strap?” She coughed, letting out a bark of laughter.

“Important!” she insisted. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, anyhow.”

“Gotta know the goings-on in the neighborhood, baby. Fulfill my mayoral duties.”

“I thought you hated those.”

“Not when I get to hear how good it feels on your clit with the vibrating kind-“

“Alright, alright,” she snipped at him. “Enough, you wretch.” He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter in the back of the room, grabbing a box of Sugarbombs and taking a handful out to toss back.

“Just quoting you.” She scoffed with a smile, making her way over to one of the two couches in the middle of the room. She slid on with a deep exhale, her body turning into a boneless pile within seconds. She was lax against the old, stained furniture, her head resting on an armrest, her gaze on the ceiling.

He observed her for a moment. She was… different, after the Addictol incident. A little more lost, a little less sure of herself. He didn’t need to know her as intimately as he did to see that; to see an echo of what he had gone through himself before he went Ghoul. He just hoped that her outcome would be a little different than his. But change was painful, and he would be a fixture at her side through the whole of it. Covering her as she sorted out who she was now. Making sure her feet were always still firmly on the ground.

“Hey, you busy tonight?” She tilted her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the upholstered arm to glance over at him.

“Not really. Just trying to escape the ‘ole ball and chain,” she mused dryly as he let out a rough chuckle. “Why? You have something in mind?” He had just shoved another handful of cereal into his mouth, so Nora stared at him, hard. He stared back as he chewed. Taking his time. Prodding at her impatience. They'd been doing this more, recently; poking at each other, trying to get a rise. Working through the waves of emotion that they were struggling with after her time away. “You’re impossible,” she grumbled lightly after a solid minute. “You wait too long and I’ll make my own plans for tonight. Maybe get a hot date to buy me some drinks-” He swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth, choking down the cereal with a dark, heated look. Predatory. A warning.

“Cut that shit out,” Hancock spat, jaw clenched tight. She opened her mouth with a scowl, paused, and took a deep breath. Then another. Her shoulders slowly deflated. He scoffed as he practically slammed down the cereal box and fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pants, patting his pockets for a lighter. He looked up at the feeling of gentle heat near his face, vaguely perceiving the shift in temperature. He glanced up at the woman standing before him, lighting his cigarette. He took a heavy drag as she snapped her lighter shut, sliding it into one of his vest pockets and patting his chest gently. She went to pull her hand away when he grabbed her wrist gently, keeping her close. She didn’t even bother trying to break out of his grip, putty in his hands.

“I don’t think my joke landed very well,” she murmured, eyes on the revealed skin of his sternum between the ruffles of the collar of his shirt.

“You think?” he bit back, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth with his free hand. “Now I know you ain’t tryin’ to run around on me. I just- that shit don’t fly here. You dig?” Hancock’s rasp was on the darker side, his thumb brushing over her pulse back and forth.

“I dig,” she murmured, looking up at him again. He sighed at the look she had on her face- guilt, annoyance, understanding, and a whole other slew of emotions passed over her face. “I’m sorry.” He took another drag, nodding as the hand holding her wrist tugged her even closer. He caught her weight as she stumbled against his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist. She pressed her lips against his jaw lightly, fingers hooked onto his flag. He let out a heavy breath, the tension in his body melting at the feel of her against him. “Possessive bastard,” Nora breathed fondly, peppering gentle kisses to his temple before nuzzling the ruined skin lightly.

“I just got you back,” he confessed after a moment, fingers digging into her gently. “‘m just-" he trailed off, tilting his head to return a kiss to her cheek.

“I understand,” she confirmed quietly.

“And I ain’t tryin’ to tell you what to do, how to act.” He turned his head to take a drag and puff it out away from her face.

“I tried to make a joke and it didn’t land. I want you to tell me when something makes you uncomfortable,” she insisted.

“I’ll loosen up again, promise,” he rasped. She shook her head.

“I don’t want you to keep that stuff bottled up. I want you to tell me how you feel.” He let out a heavy breath, putting out his cigarette in a dish behind them and sliding his hand down her arm, interlocking their fingers. The shift in their dynamic became palpable in that second- one of those moments where it struck that this was a pivotal one. A reminder that they were on the same team, that she’d do anything for him. That he’d do the same. Affection flowed from his chest through his body, an overwhelming need to find an outlet for this love making his fingers twitch. Looking for a hit.

He pushed off the counter with his arm still wrapped around her waist and started leading them in a gentle sway. Nora let out a sharp breath.

"Wait, John, I don’t-" She stumbled in his arms. He caught her smoothly and kept leading them around the room in gentle circles, holding her close. “I can’t dance.” He chuckled against her cheek after she stumbled again.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.” Her face burned with embarrassment. “Didn’t even dance at my wedding. I just hate it.” 

“Then close your eyes and lemme take care of you, baby,” he murmured low. “I’ll sweep ya off your feet ’n everything.” She pulled back enough to lock eyes. He offered her a smile, which she tentatively returned. “C’mere, put your head right here- perfect. And gimme your hand again, put your other one there- you got it. Now relax.” She slowly slumped into him, letting the Ghoul take the lead in gentle rocks, a deep hum burning through his fried vocal chords. They danced together slowly to the push and pull of his voice, bodies lax and warm. Together again.

Nora had seen a lot in her life, and even more just in the time after the War, waking up to her dead husband and missing baby. Almost too much. All that shit, of course, built up and made her into something different. Hancock would insist that different didn’t mean bad. When she would say she was paranoid, he’d say she was perceptive. When she would confess her anger, the rage that always felt like it was boiling under her skin, he’d call it passion. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with him, or ever would, but at least she was self-aware enough to identify these changes. And was lucky enough to have a partner that took her as she was, how she would continue to be. What she would become, whatever that was.

It helped that when she was in Goodneighbor, she felt different. Safe. Real. She couldn’t understand this widespread fear of the settlement. There was camaraderie. Food, shelter, and community. Sure, she watched some guy get stabbed about 30 seconds after walking through the front gate, and frequently witnessed no shortage of brawls with the occasional knife fight in the Third Rail. But only minutes before she had entered the settlement for the first time, she had blown the head off of a raider and used his body as a meat shield against his friends’ bullets. Gutting someone trying to extort and threaten a fresh face was pretty par for the course in the Wasteland.

Goodneighbor looked out for each other, even if it was a transient citizen just looking to put their head down for a few days. Drifters were as welcome as anyone else. And Hancock was a constant amongst the people; always accessible, always giving. He’d put up this front, she’d notice, that this was just a loan and they could pay him the caps back in a week or so. The Ghoul barely went out of his way to collect, though. Maybe would mention it in passing if he saw them in the street, but otherwise would simply operate on the honor system.

Nora liked Goodneighbor. Liked the people, as scrappy as they were, as much as they ribbed and taunted her. They would notice her. See her. Wouldn’t feel uncomfortable asking for a hand to move something, clean something, make something. Wouldn’t blink if she needed a hand. She wasn’t the best with words, and god knew that her charisma had dwindled the longer she spent outside of the courtroom and in the Commonwealth. The denizens of the neighborhood didn’t seem to give a damn. She had always been a little rough around the edges, sure. Just now even more so, and on uneven ground. Grinned with blood in her teeth, wore viscera like high fashion, cursed like a sailor, and wanted.

(Fuck, did she want.)

She wanted the world to suck a little less. She wanted to help people. She wanted to atone. She wanted her son back. She wanted to figure out who she was. She wanted justice. She wanted to feel. She wanted a home. She wanted John.

(Fuck, did she want John.)

They didn’t always do their rounds through the neighborhood together, but they’d do short jaunts around the block regularly, especially if they had been holed up or on a bender. She still dabbled in chems, would go toe-to-toe with the Mayor in drinking contests- and lose, of course. Life had settled a little bit while she figured out her next steps, and Nora was unspeakably grateful. She was unsure if Hancock ever caught her staring these days, her eyes tracing his profile like he hung the stars in the sky. Head over heels for her Ghoulish lifeline.

This, of course, made Nora’s life-long disdain towards being saved that much more ironic. She always wanted to play the knight during make-believe as a kid, always pushing herself up out of the mud herself and wiping the dirt off before moving on to the next task. Her independence wasn’t taught, wasn’t cultivated. Inherent in her blood.

The world before the War, of course, did not appreciate it.

So she learned to keep the muzzle in place that society had so lovingly wrapped around her maw, grit pleasantries between sharp teeth and kept her snarls and claws to herself. Found ways to temper her fuse, suffocate it in propriety. Nate had quelled those feelings for a while, too. He was her best friend, her partner. They’d sit and talk and talk and talk. He’d get a whiff of the storm brewing inside and gentle her with sweet words and loving hands. It was comforting.

Until it wasn’t.

She felt lost when he enlisted, and the arguments just escalated from there. The War At Home, she had called it with dry amusement. When he went away, when she was just figuring herself out, she hated him. She hated him so, so much. He left her alone to boil in her freshly reignited anger to fight in a war that they had protested and fought against. When he got back, when she got pregnant, The War At Home took on a new form. The stress is bad for the baby. Don’t eat that, it’ll make the baby more restless. Sit down and rest more, the baby needs you healthy.

The day they found out it was a boy, she wept. Another cog in the war machine, another body to feed the beast that encompassed the world like a poisonous cloud. She’d lost her husband, her Nate, to hatred, and now she’d lose her baby, too. She barely had had time to process it all before she was thrown into the future, where the anger grew and grew and grew. This experience with withdrawal- it snapped her already fraying tightrope and threw her into a free fall.

She didn’t know who she was anymore.

“You with me?” She felt the whisper of hot breath across her cheek, abruptly wrenching her back into the present. Her eyes fluttered as she looked over to the Ghoul next to her, gaze pulled from the beautiful blue sky. Nora blinked at him a few times before looking down to push her cuticles back. He took a heavy hit of Jet before stuffing it back in his pocket.

“Yeah. Just thinking,” she said quietly. “Life’s real different now, y’know?” He nodded sagely, arm sliding around her waist to pull her closer as they started walking down the streets of Goodneighbor again. “But I dunno if it’s a bad different. And I dunno what that says about me.”

“Can’t answer that one for ya,” he conceded, giving her a gentle squeeze. “But I can say that Wasteland life doesn’t look half bad on you.” She nodded slowly, releasing a soft exhale. “You’ve been somewhere else a lot lately.” When he said it, it wasn’t accusatory, but warm. Understanding.

“Sorry,” she still offered. Programmed to be inoffensive, the muzzle still halfway on these days.

(“You’re a mother now,” people would say. “You need to set a good example for your boy.”)

He pulled her down one of the alleys, cornering her.

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, sunshine. If I can’t hear that brain cookin’ up trouble 24/7, I’ll get concerned,” Hancock cooed quietly, lifting his hand up to her chin to tilt her face towards him. “Just wanna make sure that you always got a return ticket home, ya feel me?” Nora nodded. “You wanna chat about it?”

“A lot of it’s just about you.” He snorted.

“Flattery will getcha everywhere with me. Don’t you game the system.”

“You let me be angry.” It slipped out before she had the chance to bite it down. She must have looked shocked at her own words, because his face twisted from confused to amused.

“I don’t let you be shit.”

“You know what I mean,” she insisted, their mouths glancing against each other as their gravity pulled them together. “I’ve never had that. Someone who lets me off leash.”

“You wanna be leashed?” She barely shook her head, then let out a breathless laugh as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Not even for some fun?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Nora mumbled with burning cheeks. “I just… I appreciate you a lot. I dunno if I tell you enough.”

“Never gonna mind hearin’ it from you.” They shared a brief kiss. “You know that makes two of us, right? That I care about you? That I love you?” She didn’t respond- didn’t need to, not really- pressing her lips to his soundly and wrapping her arms around him. He met her smoothly, mouths lazy and loving. Every moment that they parted for a breath, they would end up in another kiss, perfectly content to bask in each other.

Pop!

It was jarring when he crumpled on top of her.

“John?” she breathed.

Pop! Pop!

His body jerked as it slumped, her hands frantic as they caught him and led him down.

Pop!

Her shoulder jerked backward with the force of a bullet passing through it cleanly.

Pop!

She saw red.

He loved when she got like this. Didn’t so much love the bullets lodged in his body, and supremely disliked the ones in hers, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now as his flesh worked to push out the lead and knit itself back together. It was like one of those old movies from where he laid, two of the mercenaries already a mess of red and limbs, the Watch having mowed them down within moments.

The ringleader, though.

At first he thought it was his ears still ringing, his brain jostled. Within a few more seconds, though, he realized, perhaps a little too idly, that it was screaming. Well, screeching, more like. He had a front row seat to Nora’s brutality. And the poor, poor asshole under her hands that just didn’t seem to know when to shut up.

“He’s a piss poor mayor,” the woman hissed up at his Vaultie with a red grin, half of her face already swollen with the punch that Nora had thrown at her. Teeth missing, back plastered against the pavement with the weight of Nora keeping her down, straddling her stomach. “There’s more of us, you Ghoul-fucking bitch. We’re gonna burn this shithole down. Piss on the ashes, take all the chems we can, and sell all these freaks t-“

(Whoops.)

Seems like she knew just what to say. Hancock relaxed his body as he watched the woman get literally torn to shreds in front of him. Punch after punch, pulling and tearing, wet sounds working up from the woman’s throat. The blue hue that her skin took on under the tight grip his partner had on her throat complimented the splatter of blood on her face.

“Do it. Try me.” Nora’s voice was deadly. Even. “Touch a single person here. Breathe on them wrong. Give me a reason.” Her grip got tighter, the woman choking and scratching at the hands around her airway. “I’ll go into your home. Shoot your partner. Doubt they’re worth the Piss Poor Mayor’s left pinky.” Her thumbs dug into the space around her trachea, nails slicing into the skin. Pushing, pushing. “I’ll send your fucking corpse back to your shitty gang’s shitty doorstep. Hang it up real nice-“ Her nails broke skin, arteries cracking open and blood spraying out like fireworks. “Preying on people- it makes me so- so-“ Her voice got quiet. “Makes me angry.” It was hard to hear the words under the sounds of a woman dying, thrashing and gurgling and swinging. Nora took every hit, punch, and scratch, unmoved. Eyes alight with rage, her hands shaking as they kept squeezing, even after the body under her fell to twitching, then to stillness.

“Vicious girl,” Hancock rasped as he wheezed out a cough. “Think you made your point.” He seemed to knock her out of her reverie, her hands going slack and her weight collapsing back on the corpse’s stomach with a heavy breath. The force pushed a spray of blood out of the dead woman’s mouth and into the air, the sanguine droplets carried away on the gentle wind.

“Talk shit-“ Nora warbled, shaky.

“-get hit,” Hancock crowed fondly, voice tight with discomfort.

He promptly passed out.

The world started moving around them again, people rushing around to start administering Stimpacks and getting them back to the Old State House. Nora tried to wave the hands off but exhaustion made her limbs syrupy and her muscles uncooperative. She grumbled a few times when those hands jostled her up the stairs, her eyes fixated on the groaning Ghoul ahead of her. Couldn’t close her eyes for more than a blink, the sight of Nate’s dead body behind her eyelids. Her mind drifted, thoughts racing and nigh manic as the world passed her by.

(He’s alright, he’s okay, everyone’s okay-)

She was brought out of her preoccupation at a sharp pinch, nose wrinkling in discomfort as one of the bullets was pulled from her with a pair of tweezers. She caught a glance of the back of Fahrenheit’s head as she left the office, body language screaming pissed off. Knowing the bodyguard the way she did, Nora could smell the guilt from her corner; it didn’t matter that the mayor himself had insisted she spend the day with her beau in the Third Rail. Daisy, crouched in front of Nora, pulled the former vault dweller's attention from waving at Dr. Amari with freshly wrapped hands, receiving a nod as the doctor filed out of the room as well.

“Remind me not to spit in your cereal,” the shopkeeper rasped as she wiped the red off of Nora’s face to give the Sole Survivor a break, the woman sitting on a chair in the corner. “Nice tats, by the way. Colors look great against your complexion, and you just don’t see work like that anymore.” Nora shared a tired smile with her, sitting in her underwear with a threadbare blanket over her lap, unknowing and uncaring about how she got there. Coming back to herself. “You should show 'em off more.”

“They make ya look tough,” Hancock butt in with a chuckle that quickly became a cough. Nora wasn’t surprised that he was awake already. He always bounced back quickly.

“I’m sure the flowers inspire fear- ow!” She shot a look at Daisy, nose wrinkled again as the Ghoul looked none too innocent while digging the bullet out from Nora’s hip.

“I don’t think anyone will be thinking about your tattoos after today, kid,” the Ghoul said warmly, fondly. “I knew you were protective, but this was way past what I was expecting.” Nora sunk into herself at that. Her friend glanced at her face before dropping the tweezers and grasping the other woman’s face in her ruined hands. “Nothin’ to be ashamed about here, sister. Just another one of us freaks.” Nora let out a shaky breath, bottom lip trembling.

“I made a mess,” she said in a small voice. “I said some awful things. Did some awful things.”

“No one fucks with Goodneighbor,” Hancock called from the couch, wrapped up tight and looking perfectly relaxed after another hit of MedX.

“No one,” Daisy agreed.

“No one,” Nora murmured, biting her lip to contain herself. Her shaking got a little worse as the Ghoul in front of her wrapped her wounds diligently, giving her another Stimpack and a shot of MedX that Hancock insisted upon. Nora took it without protest, eyes shut tight at the needles and murmuring quiet, airy thank you’s every time Daisy did something. Dressing wounds, wiping her down, helping her to the couch across from Hancock, tucking her in. Nora’s body went lax against the shoddy cushions, the chem working through her system diligently to quell her trembling. Daisy brushed a fond hand against her forehead before making her way towards the door.

“If I see you up, you got a storm comin’,” she warned, shooting the both of them a sharp look before making her way past the two Watch stationed at the door. “We’ll make sure you get food and booze. Take the edge off."

“Thank you,” Nora offered again. Daisy waved her off.

“Don’t want to hear it, sister. Shut your trap and get better.” And with that, she shut the door behind her. It was quiet in the office, the low lights beckoning a sense of calm in the space. Nora looked over at Hancock. Hancock looked over at Nora. They were quiet for a minute, taking each other in.

“If movin’ didn’t feel like hell, I’d be feasting on your shit right now,” he rasped. She laughed, then winced. “Appreciation, you feel me? You’re hot as hell, baby. Real MILF behavior.” She choked on air.

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” His grin was not innocent, not by a long shot.

“Sometimes you leave those old magazines around. Been learnin’ a lot from ‘em.” He wagged his brow and got his expected giggle, MedX rushing through her veins. Another silence blanketed them, and Nora started to fidget in the quiet. “What’s on that gorgeous mind ‘a yours?”

“Do you think I’m a monster?” He hummed in thought. She took it as confirmation. “I promise I’ve never done that before, I don’t know what came over me,” she murmured, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling before closing her eyes tightly. “I just- I got so mad, John. I promise I won’t do it again, I prom- mmph!” A body suddenly collided with hers, eyes flying open at the feeling of her partner grabbing at her. His mouth was pressed harshly to hers, and he pulled back to kiss her hard again and again and again. When he paused, holding her jaw, his black eyes burned.

“No one ever fought for me before. Not like that.” His words were raw, vulnerable behind their passion. “My Nora,” he breathed, quieter. “Never met anyone like you, sunshine. Never gonna again- you know that. Never wanna.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “Fuck, I love you. Claws ’n all.” She wasn’t sure, but she could guess that her eyes were suddenly just as wet as his. “You’re a fuckin’ protector, y’hear me? You fight for The People. If that’s what makes us monsters, then we’ll wear it like a badge of honor. Got it?” She just looked at him as a few tears gathered at her lash line, escaping one by one with each flutter. She could feel the stake he put into the ground and the rope he wrapped around her like a harness, keeping her tethered to the Earth. To reality. “Got it?” He was gentle when he squeezed her jaw. She nodded lightly. “Nora.”

“Got it,” she managed, hoarse. Then, “I think I just killed for you, John McDonough.” He was chuffed, collapsing on her with a joint groan.

“I think you just made me hard.” She wheezed as he stuffed himself against her on the much too small couch, reaching around her towards the pile of chems on the coffee table. “Let’s celebrate with another hit.”

“You asked for this, sunshine,” Hancock mused casually as he stood over the nude, supine woman, head tilted as he stared at her. Still catching his breath, his cock wet and already back at half-mast, he straightened up from securing the cuffs around her wrists. “Kept sayin’ you were antsy. Lost in your own head too much.” She panted in response. “Where’re we at, baby? Huh?” His gentle smacks to her cheek brought her hooded gaze up to his predatory stare. “Don’t tell me y’went cock-dumb already.” Her lips trembled around words that wouldn’t come, dazed and floating. “Checkin’ in.”

“‘m good,” she slurred.

“Atta girl,” he breathed, hand working over his length slowly, thankful that his naked, Ghoulish skin couldn’t produce the goosebumps he knew would have covered him, top to bottom. “Good girls get rewarded, don’t they? And you’ve been such a good girl, healin’ up nice for me. Ain’t that right?” She nodded, tongue flicking out to swipe at her dry lips. “Pick your prize, love.”

“Cock,” Nora mumbled. “Need-“ Her chest rose and fell between heavy breaths. Still settling from the pounding she’d just received, eyes locked on his still-hard, glossy length.

“Don’t know what to do with that pretty mouth, huh?” She shook her head faintly. “Poor thing,” he sneered, shuffling up the mattress to align with her face, working himself in as she parted her lips. She moaned loudly, vibrating around him, eyes rolling back as she suckled idly, her muscles tensing and releasing at the taste of him. “Ahh, perfect,” he hissed. “So gorgeous, Nora. Just need a cock, keep ya nice and soft for me.”

She didn’t pay his words any mind, eyes closed and tongue absentmindedly swirling around him, swollen lips cushioning the weight of him. His fingers brushed over her breasts, fingers skimming her nipples. She let out a quiet sound, twisting weakly. He just hummed as he took careful hold of one between his fingers, teasing and pinching and pulling. She trembled under him, squirming. Wrists padded and cuffed securely to the bed frame, keeping her immobile and vulnerable. He had, as she often said, ate through her pussy to her brain and immediately fucked her within an inch of her life afterwards, leaving her dripping. Time was an illusion in the Hotel Rexford room, the lovers focused simply on each other.

“Dunno how much longer I can go without that sweet pussy again, baby,” he warned, rocking his hips gently into her mouth. She whined, tongue working at his head like nothing else mattered in that moment. “You wanna keep suckin’?” She made a noise of confirmation, slurping lewdly. He wheezed out a chuckle, pulling out of her mouth slowly.

“No- no-“ Nora whimpered, eyes glazed when she peeked up at him.

“Relax, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he hushed her quietly, giving her a slow kiss, hands gentle as they swept up her naked sides. “We can both get we want. You trust me?” She nodded emphatically.

“More ‘an anything.”

“Good. I’m gonna choke you with my cock while I eat your pussy. How’s that sound?” She nodded again, lips parting.

“Good. Real good.”

“What do you do if you wanna stop?”

“Pull at the cuffs, three times.” He lifted her chin to steal another kiss.

“Show me.” She let out a shaky sigh as she tugged her wrists once, paused, and then twice in rapid succession. “Atta girl. Bein’ so good for me, aren’t ya?” She nodded, licking her lips faintly. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She was already hoarse. He ambled on top of her, a little awkwardly. An airy giggle came from between his legs, his cock hard and leaking on her cheek. He chuckled with her, pressing his face against her inner thigh and taking a deep breath of her. Kisses came first, skating between both thighs and trailing small licks and bites along the way. He paused once or twice to close his eyes with a pleased sigh, the feeling of her tongue chasing his cock wet and warm, the scent of her washing over him.

The Ghoul didn’t wait a second longer, leaning down to lick a stripe between her lips. He earned a whine, a shift of her hips, and the feeling of the tip of him settling into her mouth. He caught himself mid-roll of his hips, mindful not to choke her. Nora let out another whine, tongue tracing each crevice attentively. She relaxed into the taste of him, moaning quietly, content.

He wasn’t much different, lazy in stuffing her with his tongue and sweeping up and down her cunt to gulp down as much of the mix of her slick and his spend as he could. He was vocal, groaning and licking, wet sounds echoing in the small room. He felt his cock push against the inside of her cheek and answered with an uncontrolled buck of his hips. She choked loudly as it glanced down the pocket of her mouth into her throat, her own hips lifting into his mouth emphatically. Hissing, he tried to pull back, but the damn Vaultie under him stayed with him. Kept him down to the base, swallowing and salivating and gurgling to her heart’s content.

He had to pull his mouth off of her to catch his breath, jaw slightly dropped and hands clutching her plush thighs. He panted into her cunt, murmuring praise and encouragement into her heat.

“Such a sweet fuckin’ mouth- righ- fuck, yeah, right there, keep it deep-“ He had enough presence of mind to crane his neck down to kiss her clit with a loud, wet smack of his ruined lips. Nora choked at the feeling, practically vibrating under him. He felt her slowly pull off of him, his hips lifting slightly to give her space to pant against him. The vague sensation of hot air cooling the spit and cum along his length made him moan into her. He jerked at the feeling, rubbing against the soft of her cheek.

“How we doin’ down there?” he breathed when he pulled away again, licking a stripe down her inner thigh. She whined, lips brushing against his head, wanting. “Shit,” he choked, glancing between his legs to see his partner. She was breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded and hazy, tongue out to catch whatever she could of him. She was pliant, the trust palpable. As much of a change as she was experiencing, she still felt comfortable giving herself to him completely. Believing him when he told her he’d be there to catch her. Be her tether to the ground while she worked her shit out.

His chest burned. The sensation hit him suddenly, knocking him back on his heels between her extended arms, his cock bobbing in front of her face. She kept reaching for it with that damn mouth, though, relentless. Hungry.

“Poor thing,” he cooed, breathless, reaching down to play with her nipples. She arched into his fingers, then away. Unsure if she wanted more or less. Her thighs pressed together and rubbed, tongue wetting her lips. “Ready for me, baby?”

Nora tilted her head back to swipe at the underside of his sack, and he tweaked her nipple with a wheeze. She squealed under him, feet kicking- sensitive, as always. In response to his teasing, she managed to shimmy up between his legs to swipe her tongue up his taint to the circle of his ass. She squeezed a high whine from his fried vocal cords, one hand sliding up her body to grasp his cock tight. Practically choking himself at each wet swipe. The hand on her tit squeezed, kneaded, and scraped against the scars and stretch marks that littered her otherwise smooth skin- her trophies of survival.

Head tilted back and eyes shut tight, the slurps from between his legs would have made him go cross-eyed. The only thing that brought him out of his reverie was the feeling of wet against his palm corresponding with a tight moan from Nora, her thighs tight together. He panted above her, cock practically purple at the grip he had on himself. He pulled his hand away from her chest to lick long stripes up his palm, cleaning milk from the divots.

“Asked you a question,” he rasped, licking his thumb before tugging and rolling her nipple again.

“Yes!!! Yes, yes, yes, yes-“ she yelped against him, panting and writhing as much as she could. Pulling at the cuffs once to make the headboard jostle against the wall. He drew from the little self control he still possessed to shift down her body on shaky legs. Quiet babbles bubbled from between her spit-slick, swollen lips.

“Wass’at baby? Speak up for me. Wanna hear that pretty voice.” Hancock’s tone was dark, monstrous. She shivered, eyes big and wet and lost under him.

“I- I-" Tears gathered along her lashes, clumping them together and making them sparkle in the low light. It framed her blown out pupils beautifully, and he was unabashedly enamored. Nora trembled as he made space for himself between her thighs, slapping her clit with the tip of his enraged cock.

“Keep at it,” he rasped, thumbing her labia to expose her entrance. “I’ll take care ‘a you, don’t you worry. Don’t need a thought in that gorgeous head ‘a yours.” Her eyebrows pinched harshly, teeth digging into her bottom lip as he inched in. The groan he let out would have been embarrassing if the feeling of her cunt bearing down on him didn’t send him into outer space. Her eyes were shut tight, lips fighting to form the mumbled words that tumbled out from her raw throat. She vibrated under him as she came, tears dripping freely down her face. He leaned down to pant with her, pressing their foreheads together. He made out the same three words from her sobs, over and over-

"I love you, I love y- I- I lo- I love y-"

Hancock cooed, smoothly and softly kissing her, swallowing down her mumbles to make space for her in his chest. He ground his cock deeper, pulling a hitch of a moan from Nora before she went back to her babbling. He took a deep breath before slowly rolling his hips into her heat, cursing harsh and low. She just sobbed, fingers twisted in the cuffs above her head as every loving thrust stretched her orgasm. He chuckled lowly as she breathed heavy, a snort or two squeezing out from her throat as every muscles tightened and bore down.

“Lookit you, beautiful,” he breathed, forehead still pressed against hers. His hands slid up to trace over her, gently drawing against the smooth skin of her torso. “Gotta be the luckiest Ghoul on the planet.” He glanced some kisses across her cheeks and forehead as she choked on sounds of pleasure. He kissed and licked away her tears, trailing down her neck to gift her with light bites. He felt overwhelmed, his end racing him towards a cliff. He pulled away, just enough to sit back and continue the steady rhythm he’d built up. Her hands chased him, pulling at her restraints deliriously. He shushed her softly, a thumb reaching down to brush where they connected and dragging her spend up to her nub, carefully tracing patterns into her clit. She writhed, sobbing and making inhuman noises of pleasure. Chasing his cock, retreating from his thumb. His other hand held her thigh open to watch each rock of his hips nestle his cock deep.

“‘m gonna cum.” The sudden realization shocked him, came out of his mouth before his brain could think it. The pleasure snuck up on him, cowed him over into her arms to grunt and growl into her cheek, still fucking her at a steady pace, if not with more force. Her cunt squeezed him, held him tight and was loathe to let him go. His hands slid up her sides to wrap around her ribs, under her bust.

“I want it I want it I want it,” she choked as he came, no longer fighting the cuffs. Pleased to be used. “John I want it, I want it, please fill me- please please please,” Nora barely stopped to breathe between hushed words. He moaned, long and low against her at each stutter of his hips, working his spend into her pussy.

“Fuck- Nora,” he growled, tongue tracing up her jaw. “Takin’ it all, huh?” She nodded faintly, eyes lidded and wet, mouth dry from panting. Still shaking under him as his cum pooled inside her, warming her. “You ready for the cuffs to come off?” She shook her head immediately, wrapping her shaky legs around his narrow waist to keep him stationary. “Okay,” he affirmed, staying deep and pressed against her, breathing hard. “Where’re you at?”

“‘m here,” Nora murmured. “‘m right here.”

“Good girl,” he repeated lovingly. “Just needed a hand, huh? And a cock.”

“Your cock,” she insisted, goosebumps exploding across her skin as he dragged his fingertips up and down her sides. “Just yours.”

“Just mine,” he agreed. “Fahr says I’m whipped.”

“Are you?” She was practically drunk, cunt pulsing around the gentle rocking he began again.

“Dunno. Have you asked my smoothie?” She giggled, sighing.

“Heard she’s a menace.”

“She is. Birds of a feather, huh?” She smiled a dopey smile. “Sings real pretty, too.”

“You gonna keep her?”

“Not even a question, sunshine. Gonna follow her to hell and back with a goddamn smile.”

Chapter Text

“C’mon, baby. Jus’ one kiss…”

“I’ll give you as many as you want once we get through this. Just hold on, alright? You’re doing a great job, honey.” Her voice was much steadier than her hands, her stomach doing flips and the blood slowly draining from her face.

“Ya likin’ that Calmex? Think I could get some? ‘s good shiiiiit,” he slurred back, hands weakly groping and fondling whatever he could reach. “Gets me goin’, y’know?”

“I know, John, I’ll share in a little, okay?” She blinked hard to try and center herself, the world moving too quickly around them. Too slowly. Warped.

“Knew ya wouldn’t skimp out on me.”

Nora, despite the mild tranquilizer pumping through her system, was sweating buckets. Hands covered in blood and tears slipping out of her eyes uncontrollably against the back of his shoulder. Holding her Ghoulish companion closer, his back to her chest, she rocked him slightly in her arms. They sat in irradiated water, her lips brushing behind his disfigured ear, the brackish liquid turning a dirtier brown as their blood was diluted in the lake. Every inch of her was soaked as they sat on the banks, water up to their chests. She swallowed down the bile rising to the back of her throat, trying to keep down the half-bottle of RadX that she had tossed back. When she lifted her eyes again, it was for the third time in a minute to survey their surroundings.

“Love ya so much, baby,” Hancock wheezed in her grasp. “Lemme show ya how much, huh?” He coughed hard, his chest rattling under her hands, her palms exerting more pressure to the gaping wound in his stomach.

“Show me later, honey. We’ll have plenty of time,” she murmured in his ear. “Gotta get you patched up first.”

“Ya already gave me some Stims, Nora, ‘member?” Dead weight sagged back against her, leaving her to hold him up as much as she could without letting go of him. “Almost all’ve ‘em I think.”

“I did.” Throat getting tight, she took a shaky breath. “You’re still a little worse for wear though, alright? So we have to stay here until you’re all healed up.”

“‘M fine, we gotta get movin’.”

“Not yet, John,” she tried to coo soothingly but it came out as a rasp.

(She had to keep him up and talking.)

“Ya wanna look ‘s pretty ‘s me?” he slurred back, his leg twitching under the water. Nora glanced down at his lap in time to see a fresh cloud of blood escape into the surrounding lake.

She pressed harder. He started chuckling.

“What?”

“Ya always say how I’m in your guts,” he coughed through his words as he shook. “Talk about role reversal.”

“Always so perceptive, you.” Arms shaking with fatigue and pallor falling over her fast, Nora swallowed a sob, “Don’t move too much, alright? Otherwise those gorgeous guts’ll be feeding some Mirelurks.”

“Fish food,” he hummed as his coughing trailed off. “Hey, y’wanna peg me?”

“Mm,” she offered, distracted. Hypervigilant, her sympathetic nervous system teetering on crashing and burning. She was starting to feel lightheaded, blinking some of the sweat out of her eyes. After a few flutters of her lashes couldn’t manage to clear her vision, she leaned down and rubbed her eye against Hancock’s shoulder, her stomach flipping again as she pulled away and a large swatch of dark red blood saturated his otherwise sanguine coat.

(That’s right, her thought was fuzzy. Head wound.)

Her head dropped to his shoulder again, the pressure she was holding on his abdomen getting weaker as the minutes ticked by.

“Gotta get ya outta these rads, baby,” Hancock mumbled over the steady clicks from her Pip-Boy, his head leaning back over her shoulder. “Startin' to look a li’l Ghoulish. ‘S not half bad.”

“John,” her voice was thinner. “Do you-“ she took a shallow breath, fighting to stay upright. “Do you still have that flare gun I gave you?”

“Never get ridda anything ya give me, Nora.” The Ghoulish mayor sounded so pleased with himself as he kept his tilted back on her shoulder, looking at the night sky.

“D’you- do you think you can fire it for me?” Her lashes fluttered again as she swayed.

“Makin’ me work for it,” he rasped, his hands lazily patting his pockets.

Her vision was starting to go.

“Found it.” The voice rumbling under her snapped her back into herself, blinking hard.

“If you could- fire it. Straight up,” she breathed, the lightheadedness tilting the world on its axis.

“Anything for you,” he purred weakly, fighting to raise his arm towards the sky. The sound of the flare firing into the darkness above them jolted Nora back into her body, her weak arms holding on as tightly as they could, as if trying to keep him grounded from floating away. It felt like hours of silence, her body slowly collapsing under the high stress, the rads, and her own wounds. The sound of voices finally approaching and people yelling was the last thing Nora heard before her eyes rolled back and her vision went black.

The worst part about this situation was that it felt entirely avoidable.

The pair had been searching for scrap at the General Atomics Galleria and were slowly making their way back to the new Outpost Zimonja PAM had requested they settle. For the most part, their travel was unimpeded. They had only stopped once in the cover of the thin trees. Nora had gotten on the ground and looked through her rifle’s scope to follow a Suicider across a hill on the other side of a creek. They waited a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear before continuing on their way back.

It wasn’t until they made it to Lake Quannapowitt that shit hit the fan.

It started with some Bloatflies- standard fare. But the sounds of the scuffle shattered the peaceful silence of the irradiated lake, and there was a sudden abundance of Mirelurks that popped up from the silt. Taking them down was not particularly harrowing, though both of them had taken a few swipes from a claw or two. A quick Stimpack made them right as rain, healing the worst of the gashes and leaving them bruised, but intact. They were able to scavenge an errant Stimpack and some purified water from a shack on the dock, reloading and taking a breather on the chairs that were left sitting right next to the water. Taking the moment to watch the sunset, the reds and yellow blended together in a bloody visage of beauty.

“Nothin’ like the eerie tranquility of the great outdoors,” Hancock mused and took a hit of Jet. Nora nibbled on some Mutt Chops before handing him the other half. “Though if there was a bar here I bet this would make quite the romantic getaway.” Nora chuckled fondly, relaxing back in her chair, watching him wrap his lack of lips around the inhaler and take another puff. When he offered it to her, she shook her head with a thanks.

“Have I tried all of the chems yet?” Nora wondered aloud.

“Got a few more,” he hummed as his teeth sank into the food. “We gotta be smart about it, though.” She nodded.

“I agree. Do you feel comfortable with me continuing this chem tour?”

“It ain’t up to me, sister. If ya feel like ya still wanna try the lot, I’m your Ghoul. If not, no skin off my nose- well. You get it,” he chuckled at his own joke. Nora shot him a smile.

“Well, your opinion matters too. What with your cleaning up of my messes.”

“Our messes,” he reminded her.

“Our messes,” she conceded.

“I think I’ve decided what your next stop would be on this runaway train. If you stick with it.”

“Oh? Been thinking about me, Mr. Mayor? How scandalous,” Nora purred, fluttering her lashes at him. Sharp smile just on the wrong side of hungry. He grinned and laughed.

“Heh. Always am, sunshine,” he confessed as he started digging through his pack. He made a quiet here we are as he pulled out a small syringe. Nora made a face.

“What’s with all the needles?” the former vault-dweller practically whined at him. He leaned over to pinch her cheek, releasing it as she wrinkled her nose with a laugh.

“Why, quickest way to get high, of course. Right into the bloodstream and bam.” He started flicking the syringe to get the bubbles to migrate to the top for venting. “May I present to you Calmex. Pretty mild, dependin’ on how much ya take. Makes it easier to take a beat in a stressful situation. Not my typical go-to, but hey, you know me. I like to indulge.” He held it out for her to inspect. “Interested?” She hummed in thought for a second, studying it.

“Maybe once we settle for the night at the Outpost. With the Super Mutants in the area, I wanna be awake and aware.”

“You’re the boss, baby,” he shrugged.

“Oh, am I now?”

“Yup. Queen of the Commonwealth, I figure. We’re just your lowly pawns.”

“Queen of the Commonwealth and King of the Ghouls?” she mused, looking over at him fondly. “What a pair.”

“Never expected I'd ever meet my match,” he agreed. “Nice to be wrong.” He returned her look, his cheeks pulling harshly into a grimace of a smile. They only sat there for another few moments before getting up and slowly making their way around the lake, twilight settling like a thick blanket around them. Deciding to get to the top of a ridge to trace the perimeter from higher ground, the pair made idle chatter. Quiet in the approaching darkness, but as comfortable as they could afford to be in the Wasteland.

Which made the giant boulder that came flying straight at Nora all the more surprising, knocking her back to fly into a tree trunk, her back slamming up against it, head bouncing harshly off of the unforgiving bark.

“Nora!” Hancock yelled, turning back to the direction the projectile came from. There across the way in the cover of the trees, and standing lopsided, was what looked like a giant Super Mutant. It held a large pipe with a fire hydrant attached to it in one massive green hand, another large boulder in the other.

“Behemoth!” he hollered.

Nora groaned quietly as she waited for the double vision to clear. Her soul came back to her body at the sounds of a shotgun firing. She struggled to her feet, feeling around for her modified 10mm and making sure it was reloaded before disengaging the safety and stumbling towards the fray. Hancock was up close and personal like usual, dodging this way and that to try and take as many pot shots as he could with his shotgun. Nora noticed the shopping cart embedded into the giant Super Mutant’s shoulder, trying to get a clear shot of its head without her bullet getting caught in the metal.

It took her longer than usual to line up her shots, but she finally was able to get his head in the crosshairs and started unloading into it. The creature flinched with a deep, bone shaking growl before scooping up another boulder and throwing it straight at the Sole Survivor. Nora rolled out of the way, head swimming, scrambling to her feet and leaping out of the way of yet another boulder that came flying immediately after.

“C‘mon, handsome. Show me that face,” Hancock’s dark rasp carried across the small pond they were now stumbling towards. Putting a whole lot of slugs into the creature’s massive legs, it bellowed and swung the pole-fire-hydrant around desperately, falling to one knee. Nora was able to empty another clip into it before she saw a flash of red go flying into the water.

“Hancock!” she choked out, stunned momentarily, before shaking herself and throwing three frag grenades right at the Behemoth. They bounced off its truncated neck and landed neatly in the shopping cart before detonating, half of its neck and shoulder flying off, a cloud of blood spraying into the hillside. Nora didn’t wait a second to see the creature fall before she was racing in a vaguely straight line towards where she saw Hancock go flying-

(The lake-)

-and with a running start, she immediately dove straight into the cloudy, irradiated water. Her Geiger counter was clicking in defiance as she activated her flashlight, the neon green of her screen illuminating the glowing water. Seconds passed as she desperately swam around in a panic. Seconds turned into a minute. Two minutes? Three? She swam as much as she could between gasps of air, the lack of oxygen mixing with her head wound in an intoxicating concoction. 

As time passed, she became more and more frantic- not even noticing the red form before her until she same into it. Nora immediately grabbed at it, the red of a frock shining under her light.

It was like her body knew what to do before her brain could even think it. She wrapped her arms under his armpits and began to push up to the surface, bubbles escaping her mouth as air vacated her lungs, leaving her even more lightheaded. Disorganized and discombobulated. She broke the surface with a harsh gasp, sputtering and coughing radioactive water as she began to swim with him towards the banks of the lake.

(Thank god for those summers as a lifeguard.)

She was just able to haul him onto the dirt, a few items falling out of his frock pockets as she rolled him onto his back and dropped to her knees beside him. Scrambling for a Stimpack among the loose items, she immediately uncapped one and jabbed it into his thigh before taking stock of him. Her hands started to shake as she noticed his stillness. She applied another, to no avail. Then another. After the third, she shook his shoulders roughly, calling his name. Desperate.

“John? Hancock, wake up honey. John!” She became increasingly panicked at his lack of movement, his chest still. Nora began to hyperventilate, opening his frock and letting out a sob at the reveal of a large, gaping wound spanning the length of his abdomen, the cut jagged from where the fire hydrant caught him.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-“ Shaky hands fluttered up and down his body. Nora’s head was spinning, her vision going double again as her head revolted against her brain trying to think critically. She scooted closer to him, her knees hitting something hard in the dirt- the Calmex sitting pretty against her leg. There was no hesitation as she grabbed the syringe, rolling up her sleeve and plunging it into her vein. With a whimper, she shut her eyes tightly and pushed down the plunger.

A wave of calm and clarity immediately washed over her.

(Right, then.)

She immediately checked for a pulse and felt nothing. 

(Okay. Airway, then breathing, then circulation.)

She leaned down and managed to get his head tilted back and his nasal cavity partially obstructed, her mouth covering his as she breathed two breaths into his mouth, watching his chest rise. She began chest compressions, hard and fast, and repeated those steps for what she hoped was 2 minutes. She felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

She pressed her mouth to his again, following the same steps. After the second round, she was saturated in sweat and radioactive water. She was panting over him, body aching with each push against his chest. Idly, the thought of using Psycho or Jet fluttered through her dizzy head, but the concept of interrupting her CPR to administer another chem became immediately unthinkable.

She wasn’t sure how long she kneeled there, repeating the same ritual over and over again, before she pulled her mouth away from his and he started sputtering. The rest of their stock of Stimpacks stuck into him like a pin cushion, Nora only stopping when she reached into the pocket she kept her stash in and found none left.

His breathing was ragged but present, his chest rising and falling as his eyes fluttered open, the shining blackness of his hooded gaze prominent even in the dark of night.

“Don’t mind me,” he rasped as she worked on him. Her eyes flew up to his. “Just enjoying the view.”

“We’re out of Stimpacks,” she responded weakly, digging through her pack. Her hand brushed a bottle and she lifted it out of her bag, squinting in the darkness to read the RadX label. A lightbulb went off in her head as her eyes flew to the irradiated water, then to Hancock, then back to the RadX.

(Bingo.)

She unscrewed the top of the bottle and emptied the rest of it into her mouth, cracking open a purified water to choke down the mouthful with a harsh gulp. She knocked back the rest of it before proceeding. Nora scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around his chest, dragging him with a heavy grunt back into the water. Nigh collapsing in the cloudy lake, she pulled him tightly against her, applying constant pressure to the wound. She had him snuggled tightly between her spread legs, his back to her chest and hands firm against his abdomen. Now she just had to wait for the rads to start working.

“You aight?” he slurred at her after a moment. She nodded against him, holding him close.

“Yeah. You just scared me, is all. Took some Calmex, though.”

“Hm, my li’l chemie,” he babbled. He tried to shift his head to reach her with his ruined mouth. “Know what would make me better, though.”

“What’s that?”

“A kiss,” he cooed weakly.

“Let’s make sure you keep breathing before we start locking lips.” Though a calmness wrapped around her limbs and coaxed her parasympathetic nervous system, her head still swam and a deep terror was still niggling in her gut.

“C’mon, baby. Jus’ one kiss…”

Chapter Text

When Nora came to, it was a gradual awakening. Her head came first- she could feel her cheeks, warm and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Could feel the tip of her nose tingling and her dry lips. Then came her trunk, skin prickling under a constant but gentle touch, running in nonsensical lines along her abdomen. Next, her fingers, pins and needles shooting through each digit. Finally, her legs- all the way to her toes- experiencing the same sensation. She shifted, her naked skin rubbing roughly against the old mattress. And a body?

(Where were her clothes?)

“You happen to see the brand on the Brahmin that stamped your head last night?” Hancock teased in a rasp quietly against her ear. She let out a deep breath at the sound of his voice. “Finally comin’ to, sunshine?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Feel like I’m burning alive though.”

“You soaked up a lotta rads, sister,” he explained. “This is your third bag of RadAway. Damn Pipboy’s been merciless. Took it off as soon as we got back.” She felt his chest rumble behind her back, his body curving to spoon hers, fingers dancing across warm skin. She was vaguely aware of the catheter in her arm, the slow trickle of the chem continuous. She shifted, minutely, back against him, a threadbare blanket pulled up to her chin and a modest stack of straw pillows under her head.

“How’re you feeling?” Nora asked quietly, voice hoarse. Along with a firm grip, his thumb swept along her hip, pressing and squeezing carefully.

“Not half bad, ‘specially for gettin’ used as a Ghoulish punching bag.” She felt his lack of nose dig into the skin behind her ear, his breath puffing against her and hands continuing to wander. The Vaultie shivered, trying to turn her head to look at him. He didn’t let her move an inch. “Relax, sunshine. You’re still glowin’.” As he took a deep inhale of her neck, tongue peeking out to take a tiny lick at her and coax goosebumps to spread across his skin, she realized his subtle anxiety. The abundance of pet names conveyed the mix of emotions. “Mmm. All the rads a Ghoul could ask for.”

“That’s why you’re all over me,” she grumbled. She tried to shift her weight again but was promptly stopped, not only by the Ghoul and the catheter in her arm, but by her stomach flipping. “Fuck me.”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” he practically purred, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. She swatted half-heartedly at him.

“How long was I out?”

“Less than a day,” he replied.

“So you want have sex less than a day after you died?”

“You mean blacked out.” She tried to twist around to look at him again, to no avail.

“You drowned.”

“What?”

“Your heart stopped. You died.” There was a loud silence. His hand returned to her hip, grip tight. She reached and placed her hand atop his.

“You saved me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You think I’m gonna let you out of this relationship that easily?” Trying to keep her tone light- it didn’t quite work. Taking a beat, she then quietly murmured, “I feel like I just got you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I aint goin’ nowhere,” he rasped against her ear solemnly. “It’ll take more than that to get ridda’ me.” Thumb rubbing harshly wherever he grabbed, his hand started its winding path across her torso again.

(Like he was trying to make sure she was real. That she was still there with him.)

They were quiet again.

“So that’s why we were sittin’ in a rad puddle,” he realized aloud. She nodded.

“You were in a bad way. I wasn’t going to just stand by and watch my partner die.” The not again was silent.

“And that’s why ya took the Calmex,” he murmured as he pieced together the picture.

“I was freaking out,” Nora confessed. “My mind was running in overdrive and I couldn’t see straight.”

“You saved me,” Hancock insisted. “I won’t forget that.”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” she whispered.

“In a heartbeat,” he confirmed. They sat in their silent companionship again, the bruised woman's eyes fluttering closed. It was a bit stuffy in the room - the room, she realized, was one of the lodgings in Sanctuary. The mattress firm but familiar under her- a rare comfort.

“How’d we get here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I think my brain wasn’t part of the equation anymore as soon as I got you into that biohazard called a lake.”

“Awful clever of ya,” he complimented, squeezing fistfuls of her hip again. Shifting to try and escape his ruined hands, she was held fast against the furnace of a Ghoul behind her. “Had me use the flare gun. Called for help from a Minuteman settlement that ended up being pretty close.”

“Tenpines Bluff,” she confirmed. “They came?”

“Real quick, if I remember right.” She got a little choked up. He seemed to feel it in the sudden catch of her breath, chest stuttering under his hands.

“They came,” she whispered.

“You’re buildin’ somethin’ real out here, Nora,” the mayor murmured in her ear. “You’re doin’ somethin’ for the common folk. Givin’ ‘em hope.”

“Consider it my community service.” Her throat was tight. “For my past transgressions.” A shaky hand reached towards the can of purified water perched on the nightstand. Barely lifting herself up for it, she cracked it open and took a few sips before putting it back down and collapsing backwards.

“Transgressions?”

“Shaun.”

“You know that him bein’ a bastard ain’t your fault.”

“Sure feels like it,” she whispered. “I made the Commonwealth’s biggest boogeyman.”

“Who you’re fightin’ the good fight against.”

“I love my son,” she asserted. “I love him in a way I’ve never loved anything before. He’s my kid. I’m supposed to protect him, shield him, help him grow. I’m supposed to be there for him, no matter what. I don't wanna- I don't-” She choked on a breath, cleared her throat, and gave herself a moment to settle. Trying to untangle her feelings in real time.

(But how do you reconcile with the real possibility of killing your own kid?)

“But I can’t keep letting people get hurt. Not because of the Institute or Shaun.” She felt him grin against her ear. Though she was sure that he could hear the despair creeping into her voice, he blessedly warmed the ex-Vault dweller with a quiet coo of praise.

“That’s my girl.” As he withdrew his hands from hers, gently peeling away to guide her onto her back. She blinked, reaching out for him unconsciously as their eyes met. Her eyes shone and, after a moment, he seemed to decide the best course of action to pull her out of the spiral she had stepped into. “Well, better get to it.”

“Get to what? I dunno if I can even walk right now.”

“Why, payin’ my life debt to ya,” he purred, shifting downwards to grip her thighs and massage them gently. His ruined lips brushed against her neck and started sucking tender spots across her collarbone immediately, tongue laving over her sweaty skin with enthusiasm. Tugging the blanket off of them to reach his prize.

(He was naked too, she realized.)

“At least, part of it,” she joked weakly, fingers brushing against the stretched and ruined skin of his cheeks. His hands twitched against her thighs and she looked at him with a keen, albeit exhausted, eye.

(The Calmex must still be pumping through her body. Maybe the only reason she hadn't immediately sunk into the misery and panic of what the future most likely held.)

“Feeling jumpy?”

“Just the rads,” he confirmed. “Like you said, I’m all over ya.” Hancock delicately pushed her legs apart to reveal her core to him. “You up for some of my own community service?”

“I don’t know how much either of us should be moving.”

“Oh, I’m right as a radstorm, baby. Whatever you did to me worked wonders. Just took a nap and now I’m ready to get out there and keep kickin’ ass with ya.” Black eyes shone as he looked at her, alight with mischief. “Gotta make all your trouble worth while.”

“You don’t have to do anything, John,” she said gently. “You don’t owe me.”

“Then let me rephrase,” he rasped. “You’re still full’a rads and I’m still hungry.”

“Glutton,” the General shot back weakly, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “I’m probably disgusting right now.”

“Nah, I wiped ya down.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Made sure to get all your nooks and crannies, too.”

“Very thorough,” she praised. He preened, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

“You just smell so good.” His tongue flicked out again to catch a drip of sweat she missed. She let out an amused huff at the sensation. “Gotta have a taste.”

“Just be gentle, please.” Turning her face to try and catch his mouth with hers. “I’m in no position to be destroyed right now, even from such a handsome adrenaline junkie.”

“Just wanna make ya feel good,” he assured her.

“And suck the rads out of my body?”

“That, too," he rasped as he leaned down to press his mouth to hers. They kissed soundly, slowly, his thumbs running in circles on the inside of her thighs. Their tongues met carefully and, at the first taste of her, Hancock groaned harshly, fingers digging into the skin and fat and muscle in his hands.

“Taste good, too,” he breathed before diving back to her mouth. The kiss wasn’t aggressive, but it was certainly passionate. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, sliding along her own as if trying to lick up all of her saliva. She moaned as he sucked on her tongue before his teeth caught carefully on her bottom lip.

No, the kiss wasn’t aggressive- it was obscene. They leaned in again, lips smacking against each other as he dug into her mouth, exploring the space of her, reveling in the harsh grip she had on his upper arms, her nails digging in.

“John,” she breathed as he pulled away.

“Gonna gimme another kiss, baby?” his voice scraping against fried vocal cords as he chased her mouth. She chuckled roughly and tilted her head away, keeping her lips just out of reach and dodging his attempts lazily. Those brief antics earned a groan as one of his hands abandoned their position on her inner thigh to carefully take a hold of her jaw, guiding her head straight. “Can’t tease me right now.” He squeezed her jaw so, so lightly.

(She got the message loud and clear.)

She nodded slowly, obediently opening her mouth, tongue dipping out as he pressed down on it with his thumb, the rest of his fingers still gently hooked around her jaw. Watching with hooded eyes as he shivered, his gaze traced every inch of her face, as if savoring the moment. The ruined pad of his thumb slid further into her mouth along her tongue, and she felt him gently coax her mouth closed around his digit. She immediately began to suck.

(Her and her damned oral fixation.)

After letting out a huff of air against her, he hunched over her to worry her neck with more bruises, his other hand pushing her thigh back another inch to keep her open. His wet thumb slid out of her mouth with a pop! and slowly trailed the cooling spit down her burning body to her cunt, splitting her lips slowly to barely brush against the tip of her clit.

Hissing at the sensation, her grip returned to his shoulders. Though he seemed to pay her no mind, he continued his own trail down her body, nipping and licking at her skin with fervor. The Ghoul's thumb brushed her nub again, this time with a little more pressure. Nora let out a harsh breath under him, arching her back as his mouth glanced over both of her nipples- one after the other- before idling down to be face to face with her pussy. Between the two of them, he was the one practically panting- his thumb skimming her pulsing clit lightly, teeth glancing over the inside her thigh, her muscles jumping and twitching in his hold. His tongue lolled out to lick a light strip up her slit again, and she shuddered under him.

“Sensitive?” he rasped, his eyes locked on hers. One of her hands relocated to cup her own tit, the other curling around the back of his head and lightly scraping the striated skin as she shook her head obstinately.

“N-no.” She hated how thin her voice came out. Hancock, conversely, seemed infinitely pleased at her reedy tone.

“No, huh? Ya won’t mind if I get a little rougher then, will ya?” The smile he offered her a downright frightening grin, baring his teeth.

It made her pulse.

He didn’t wait for a response, digging his face into her heat and licking a broad stripe across her opening, collecting as much of her slick as he could in his mouth. It wrenched a loud groan from her, hips jerking into the sensation. Despite her wriggling, he kept his hands where they were, one still spreading her open and the other ghosting over her clit. She knew he was teasing her, having her buck up into him to get any friction against her nub. Practically feasting on her, his tongue continued to dip into the sweet heat of her core. The consistent pressure easing its way into her cunt made her tremble, light whines and whimpers escaping in the stale air.

“Don’t tease,” the Railroad agent complained quietly. The chuckle he released buzzed into her opening, mouth migrating up to her clit to lick at it twice before wrapping his ruined lips around her and sucking tenderly. The thumb that had been working her clit now pulled the hood up and taut, lifting to give himself access to the whole of her. Lips parting with a sharp inhale, the Vaultie's stomach started to tense and her thighs began shaking. Eyes practically crossing.

“Oh, John…”

“C’mon, just relax for me,” he cooed. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have missed the mischief buried in the faux sense of security he was trying to coax her into. It didn’t culminate for another minute, though, her errant thought lost to the gentle build of pleasure in her core, lifting her higher and higher-

He pulled away, wet and noisy. She groaned loudly, lifting her head to watch him bare his teeth at her.

“I thought this was community service.” It was meant come out as a firm reprimand, instead of the breathy whine she actually produced.

“It is,” Hancock purred. “Gonna make ya feel so good. Just givin’ you a little break.”

“A break, he says,” Nora grumbled, her head collapsing back against the pillows as he tenderly returned to her slit, his tongue brushing delicately over her, sucking obscenely. Her breath hitched when he slid a finger inside of her, crooking it gently against her walls, pulling more slick from her, his tongue joining in eagerly. She felt her muscles beginning to tense again as he slid a second finger in, his groan smothered against her pussy. She was lazily approaching her orgasm, her back arching to push her heat into his mouth.

(Just a little more…)

A slow withdrawal- as if oblivious that her body had begun to tremble under him- pulled a sharp fuck! from her as he hummed, his glistening fingers finding a home in his mouth. He sucked on the digits obnoxiously, black eyes glazed over, locked onto her face, then her breasts, then back to her face. Her breathing had picked up as she watched his attention flicker around her body, as if he couldn’t decide where to torture her next. Ultimately he settled between her legs again, Hancock's groans louder at every swipe of his tongue. She was practically dripping down his chin- could feel the slide of arousal down her ass cheeks, inevitably further staining the old mattress underneath them.

The wet sounds of the mayor's mouth against her followed the volume of his pleased groans, the smacking of his thin lips around her clit and labia echoing in the house. Cheeks burning, Nora's orgasm was slowly creeping up on her again, stomach clenching and thighs trembling around him for the third time, breath picking up into a pant. He slid two fingers into her again, working her dutifully towards her end-

And promptly pulled away a moment before she fell over that cliff. This time she hissed, lifting herself up onto her elbows to glare at him.

“Monster,” she accused.

“De-licious,” he shot back, sucking on his fingers again. “Though, ya got me curious now, sunshine.” His eyes flicked up to her breasts. Her breath stuttered.

“Hey, wait- no, no, no-!” Her renewed grip on his shoulders scrambled to push him back, but the Ghoul had his eyes on the prize, hot mouth engulfing a swollen tit and eyes sinking closed as he sucked hard.

“You fucking- delinquent,” the Sole Survivor hissed at him before breaking into a moan, her legs wrapping around his skinny waist in direct opposition of her protests. She couldn’t help but grind up into his angry cock as his tongue flicked over a nipple, teeth gently closing around it to work the delicate skin and suck. Nora felt her cunt clench as he began to drink from her, a deep groan resonating through her chest. His desperation was palpable as he slurped down every drop, his sounds akin to those of pain, getting louder and louder.

“So fuckin’ good,” he murmured against her breast as he pulled off with a pant. “Could eat at’cha every day and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“John,” she pushed weakly against his shoulders. “You greedy rad bastard.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Not done with ya yet.” His gaze was predatory. “Not even close.”

“If you keep fucking edging me-“ she warned weakly. He chuckled, craning up for a brief kiss. She could taste the strangeness of irradiated milk in his mouth, her tongue rolling over the flavor after he pulled away to slide down the length of her body. Like sweet pennies. He settled between her legs again, lovingly dragging her once more towards a gentle orgasm with tender touches and smooth licks. Kisses against her core, making space for himself between her thighs- a space readily given with each beat of her heart. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, her back settling against the mattress again.

She felt hypersensitive, legs jerking as he slid two fingers in once more, tongue sliding around her entrance. His sounds of satisfaction saturated the air and she had half a mind to wonder if he was somehow getting more out of this than she was. A quick glance down confirmed her suspicions, his free hand working over his angry cock firmly, groans rumbling from his mouth and into the sensitive skin of her cunt. Quiet moans joined his, one of her hands sliding behind his head to keep him glued to her pussy. She could feel the moment he tried to pull away, her arm shaking with the attempt to stop his retreat while also chasing down her pleasure.

“Don’t-“ she was panting. “Don’t you dare.” She felt him lean back and tilt his head away from her heat for a moment-

(He better just be catching his breath, she thought, brain fuzzy.)

-before returning to her heat with vigor. Nora squealed, her grip on his head tightening immediately as she suddenly hurtled towards her release. Her eyes flew open-

(When had they closed?)

-as she began to jerk, jaw dropped. On the very cusp of her orgasm, her watery eyes met a pair of surprised brown ones.

Back arching into Hancock’s mouth, she was startled into her climax, her head dropping backward, eyes twisting tightly shut. Her muscles trembled and jerked under the Ghoul’s talented mouth and fingers, prolonging her orgasm as he noisily continued to coax more arousal from her with his tongue. She writhed for an eternity, wave after wave of burning pleasure plucking at every nerve ending, taking a whisk to her brain to whip it into nothing but sensation. All bodily control had slipped through her fingers- deep, animalistic sounds escaped between each breathy please please please that she gasped. She wasn't sure what she was begging for, but it sure seemed like he did.

Hancock worked her down slowly, easing her back into her body with a care that she couldn't think about too long, else she'd start crying. For someone regarded as so ruthless, violent, and hedonistic, he bled tenderness and care for her in spades. He told her he loved her often, and though it was unnecessary, it was sweet- she could feel his adoration in every brush of their fingers, every touch of his gaze on her. She drowned in his affection.

There was a time that she had- jokingly- well, mostly jokingly- asked him if she was the best he'd ever had. The look he had pinned her with made her dizzy. You love me, he said simply. That ain't something you can find lyin' around- can't cheapen it with empty words or just any warm body-

Nora was breathing hard as she slowly returned to herself, pliant under his mouth as he continued his now-gentle assault. She lifted herself weakly onto an elbow, acutely aware once more of the presence in the doorway. Making eye contact with Preston as she gently tried to push Hancock away. He didn’t budge, letting out an exceptional groan against her, continuing his wet attack on her cunt, the slick sounds of him chasing his own pleasure saturating the small space.

“H-hey Preston,” she whimpered, struggling to appear coherent. The shaken Minuteman took a step back behind the safety of a wall, now out of sight.

(Debauched. That’s the word she was looking for- how she felt, how she looked. But it felt so good…)

“General,” the Minuteman rasped, clearing his now-phantom throat. Nora could only imagine, in her currently limited capacity, that he'd got quite the eyeful- her swollen lips, her glistening, full tits, her pussy lovingly cradling the famished Mayor. Wet smacking sounds continued to echo in the house. “I can- uh, later.”

“May be-“ she let out a hiccup of a breath as the Ghoul's lips closed around her clit and sucked. Kissing her nub, mouth wet and all-encompassing. Practically devouring her through sloppy snogging. “May be a good idea.”

“I’ll, uhm- just come- uh, I mean- find me. When you’re- up for it,” he fumbled. "Glad you're okay." Stiff but swift steps retreated. Nora lightly smacked the back of Hancock’s head.

“You little-“ she hissed, hips jerking into his mouth as his fingers crooked against a spongy spot inside of her. Her harsh expression melted like ice cream in the July heat, brows drawing together and a hiccup escaping her mouth. “You knew that he was there.” It came out breathier than intended again.

(Damn him.)

“My exhibitionist tendencies ain’t a secret,” the politician murmured against her pussy. She felt the vibrations in her brain.

“You’re a bastard,” she whined again before she gasped, a third finger working its way into her. Falling back against the mattress and bucking her hips, her partner pulled a long groan from her. Hancock’s tongue traced around her clit before rubbing against it firmly, sealing his mouth over her nub with a wet sucking sound. She whined as another, weaker orgasm suddenly crashed over her, legs shaking and eyelids fluttering closed. She could vaguely make out frenzied grunts below her as he slurped down every drop of her release.

“A Ghoul and his rads,” Nora panted, hips twitching into his insistent mouth. “I’m not getting out of this in one piece, am I?” As her body slowly relaxed into itself, sinking a little further into the mattress with a wave of bliss, he pulled away just long enough to lick his ruined lips.

“Not a chance, baby.”

Chapter Text

A stuttered breath- John, please- broke free from between Nora's dry lips as rough hands cradled her face, hips gently sawing against hips.

Her legs had wrapped tightly around the slender waist of her partner. Puzzle pieces fitting together. Devotion simmering under her skin, combining with his through gently pressed kisses along his cheeks, his brow.

Hancock had kept them close together, chest to chest. Huffing and puffing into the crook of her neck for short stints, loathe to part his mouth from hers. His hands were careful as they skirted across her body, goosebumps texturing otherwise smooth skin. They pressed the ruined whorls of his fingers into her, leaving tangible evidence- proof of them in scarred skin and loving caresses.

Where her hands typically clawed, they clutched. Desperate for the contact, starved for evidence of the care nurtured between them. Each thrust was smooth- and even then, they were minute. Grinding deep.

“Stay,” she pled.

“Couldn’t make me leave,” he swore.

Trembling breaths exchanged and sealed with a careful kiss. Desperation manifested in tenderness, whispered praises, and declarations.

“You’re perfect, love.”

“Like you were made for me.”

“So good, Nora.”

Each rasp was met with a weak noise- choking on thick, humid air. Her chest ached, her lips trembled, and her legs pulled him closer.

The taste of tenderness seeping into their romps was far from absurd and could often be seen in shared glances and quiet contact. Tenderness to its recent degree, though, seemed to be reserved for stormier times. Times when those careful, purposeful touches screamed for more. Hungry for adoration and devotion. Fiercely intertwined with avarice and lust.

The sin of knowing, and being known.

It had started with her sliding into their bed-

(Their bed. It paralyzed her lungs.)

-early in the morning, well before he typically rose. Always a crap shoot whether he’d even rouse to the shift of the mattress under him, depending on how hard he’d gone the night before.

It was seamless at this point, the song and dance of reuniting. Nora slipped her clothes off, save for her underwear, and slid in next to him. She forwent the heavier blankets strewn around the room, grabbing one of the thin sheets across one of the mismatching chairs and wrapping it around them. Curling close against him as the aging frame of the bed under them groaned with the new weight.

The heat wave they were going through didn't make the coverage ideal, but she was a sucker for base comforts.

The hungover Mayor of Goodneighbor let out a loud snore before taking a deep breath in. He smacked his lack of lips, shifting to throw an arm across her stomach and pull her close with an idle hum. His breathing evened out again, gentle snores coaxing her muscles to relax and her tension to melt under the weight of him. Secure.

As her eyes fought to stay open, Hancock brushed an idle kiss against her temple, which only broke his snores for a moment before starting up again. She had asked him once if he snuggled just anyone that slid into their bed when he was out like that. He shrugged with an-

it’s different when it’s you- 

which then, after some further coaxing, became-

you smell real good- ain’t no one else that smells like you.

The memory lulled her to a light sleep with a warmth in her chest. Or, she supposed that she had fallen asleep. In reality, it felt like she blinked and the sun was higher in the sky. The Ghoul beside her still had his eyes shut, but she could tell he was awake from his breathing. Could feel each puff of air against her scalp from his face buried in her hair, grip firm across her waist.

“G’morning sunshine,” he rasped quietly as the Sole Survivor shifted, eyes half-lidded and gaze warm.

“Hi handsome,” she murmured, a finger trailing up his bare, ruined chest, the dermis puckered and pulled, striated tissue coalescing into a smattering of healed wounds. A constellation of both radiation and violence painting a visage of hardiness, of experiences lived and survived. Lessons learned the hard way, as her father would say. In the late nights or early mornings- depending on how late they’d stayed up- they would whisper to each other about their scars and their open wounds, would tend to each other’s dilapidated gardens with care.

This reunion was a particularly intimate one.

Though it hadn’t been long, neither had been in a hurry to part before she had left for her latest objective. He'd been downright miserable- black eyes glossy and wet in the low light, the pulls of a frown twisting his face. She hadn’t been much better off, fingers tight around his lapel, nose wrinkled. The pits in their stomachs growing heavier with each farewell.

That didn’t matter so much now, though, when they fit together once more- like she had never left.

“You sleep alright?”

“Mmmhm, like the dead.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, then. Sexiest zombie this side of the Wasteland.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, a small smile pulling her lips up. “And all mine.”

“All yours,” he hummed, vibrating under her. She caught the twitch of his hand against her as she complimented him, but was promptly distracted as he let out a breath. “C’mere.”

“I’m practically on top of you.” Hancock tugged her further onto his chest, tucking her close.

“Then hold still, I gotta check ya.”

This was part of their welcome home ceremony, too. It all began after her withdrawal, the systematic, gentle touches of his hands skating across her body. Searching for physical damage- assessing.

“I promise I’m unarmed,” Nora mused, but made no move to halt his inspection.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Probably have a knife tucked in those cute little panties,” he breathed, nipping at her cheek as his hands drifted down to settle on her ass. Kneading and squeezing, he let out a low, pleased sound.

“Everything up to code?”

“May need to get a little more thorough…”

They shared a kiss- quiet, gentle. Pressing foreheads together and breathing in the same air.

Intimate.

That sentiment wove through their coupling, eyes sinking and half-lidded as the two rolled over slowly, hands clutching close and sleepy giggles between them. When he sunk into the heat of her, it was unhurried. Pressed to the base with his heavy breaths gently breezing across the goosebumps forming her skin. 

Each kiss, each contact of skin against skin, each push and pull screamed what their breathlessness could not.

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

“Have you been going through my bag again?”

“… no.”

“For being a career politician, you’re a shit liar.” Nora flicked the sunglasses up his face just enough to catch his drooping gaze. They were sitting on the roof of the Old State House, soaking in each other’s company and sharing a now-empty bottle of liquor. She’d been out traipsing the Wasteland, her fingers in all the pies prior to her arrival that morning. The Brotherhood, the Institute, the Minutemen, the Railroad. He knew she was burning the candle on both ends, knew she was running herself ragged.

“Y’know, lookin’ around in these… you think we’re real?”

“Huh?”

“What if this is all just a game? What if our lives are being controlled by someone up there?” Hancock made a vague hand motion towards the starry sky.

“Probably,” Nora agreed, situating her sunglasses back on his face. “Pretty.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I think you’re awfully pretty.” He offered her a tight smile, gone before she could really see it. His discomfort, though, remained. She pivoted the conversation, noting his reaction for a later discussion. “So. We’re not real?”

“Part of a simulation.”

“Like our lives are just part of some game?” He made a noise of affirmation.

“Every decision, made by some asshole up there,” he waved his hand in a vague motion toward the dark sky again. “Or by the Institute- we could be synths and not even know it.”

“Well, Shaun told me after Bunker Hill that he let me out just to see what would happen." She let out a heavy breath. "He said he'd expected me to die within the first few days.” 

“I love you.” A beat. “Your son sucks fuckin' eggs.” She broke out into snickers, leaning backwards.

“Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Hearing the dip in her otherwise light tone, Hancock looked at her through the dark lens of the large, white, oval-shaped sunglasses he had on. She peeked over at him just long enough to break out into pure giggles. “Should be on the cover of a magazine with those on, honey.”

“Yeah, I’d bet you’d like my spread.” Her giggles transformed into laughter with a snort.

“New platform idea-“ she tried to talk through her laughter, but failed miserably, wiping at her teary eyes. "You can keep the sunglasses, but I get to take this." He laughed a rough laugh as she took his hat, fitting in on her head soundly. 

“I like your style, baby. Hot fashion, right there.” The Sole Survivor leaned back on her elbows and gazed into the star-dappled sky with a warm, fond look on her face.

He recognized, in that moment, his appreciation of her coming to spend time with him, especially when it was just to spend time with him- even if it was after a little, unintentional side quest. He knew she had other companions that needed her attention, friendship, and capabilities- needed her. But he never said he wasn’t greedy, especially for his Vaultie.

“So, Daddy-O, huh? I wasn’t super familiar with it before today.”

“Not the easiest chem to find, but still a good time,” the Ghoul hummed, leaning back with his arms behind his head. Her fingers brushed over the cloth of his blouse under his top few layers, plucking at him with a pleased hum. He smiled at her.

“Even though, according to the label, we’re awkward to interact with?”

“I think we still have enough charisma to spare, don’t you?” Nora pulled back to lay down next to him, shifting the hat to mirror his position.

“Considering how well our interrogations went earlier, I would say probably not. Anyways, it feels like the kind of chem you’d take before a chess tournament.”

“Don’t let Fahrenheit hear ya talkin’ shit. That’s her favorite game.”

“I mean no disrespect. I’m just no good at it,” Nora chuckled. “She’d still beat my ass, though.” He let out a brief heh in agreement.

“Well, we accomplished your surprise task for the day,” he rasped, “and we have at least a few more hours with it cookin' in our systems.”

“Got any puzzles for us to do?” She paused, then bit her lip to contain her excitement, eyes shining. “New books to read?” The Mayor glanced over at her with a sly look.

“My freaky little Vaultie,” he purred.

“For reading books?” He shrugged. “You read all the time, too.”

“Not like you, baby.” Lifting himself up to his elbows, he rolled his shoulders to loosen up. “No new books, but a trader came through with new mags.” Nora’s lips twitched. “What?”

“I saw you reading one recently. Never took you for a romantic, honey.”

“Just brushin’ up on the next phase of courting. Y’know, the traditional route.” Her eyebrow raised. He glanced at her after the silence stretched on.

“You ever do this before?” she asked after a few thick seconds. He chuckled and scratched his cheek.

“Nope. Why? I do somethin’ wrong?” The look she was giving him was intense.

“… that’s why you’ve been collecting Live & Love,” she realized quietly. He grunted, attempting to project a non-committal countenance. Based on how her eyes scoured every small detail of his expression, he immediately knew he was made. She could see right through him. Even through the ridiculous sunglasses.

(She could see him.)

He didn’t bother to hold in the tiny shiver that made his shoulders twitch. Her eyes were sharp, hungry as they watched his physiological response to her attentions.

His entire approach to this relationship had been… different, to say the least. With so many trysts under his belt, so many bodies in his bed- he could probably coax a radscorpion into a romp if he really tried- his approach had always been the same.

(Love 'em and leave 'em- before they can leave you.)

Then again, he had never met someone like her- someone who made him want to do things right. Whatever right meant. And he could tell that that sentiment was received loud and clear by the damn woman next to him. Her lips twitched fondly before she raised an indulgent brow.

“The next step is usually along the lines of seduction,” Nora sounded skeptical. “And I loathe to remind you, but we’ve already had sex. A lot of sex. Multiple times. Sometimes in a day.”

“Mmm, and what a great reminder that is,” he hummed. “But those old mags-“

“-old?” she deadpanned.

“-say to keep the spark alive, and get more intimate. Know each other better.”

“There are other ways to be intimate,” she reminded him, laying back again to look up at the sky. “I could probably make a list of things to ask you, just off the top of my head.”

“That so? Lil’ ole me?”

“You’ve practically lived a thousand lives, handsome. Don’t start playing coy,” she hummed.

“I ain’t the one pushin' 250 years.” Nora huffed, and Hancock let out a snort of amusement. “And lookin’ damn fine wearin’ 'em.”

“Flatterer,” she grumped.

“How’d you lot go about this kind of stuff?” The General shrugged, shifting to sit upright again and pull her knees to her chest. Her fingers started working the tattered cuffs of her jeans, hands clenching and unclenching. He cocked his head, the sunglasses falling off without the support of a nose.

“… sore spot?” the Mayor asked after a moment. She wrinkled her nose.

“I guess. Thinking about this stuff, it just- it makes me feel-" he watched her take a breath. "Usually I think I’d be fine, but this damn Daddy-O has my brain picking apart every passing thought.”

“Need to get your focus somewhere else,” he offered.

“Yeah,” she sighed quietly. “To answer your question- there were a lot of formal ways to pursue this stage, but I can't exactly introduce you to my biological family- neither can you. Not really. But in more casual settings, we used to play some games- and yes, dear, they were drinking games- that were kinda like getting to know you stuff.” She tilted her head to rest it on her arm, looking over at him. He was struck silent for a moment, the moon lacing her eyes with silver and brushing her hair with a gentle glow.

(God, he was so smitten.)

“I think you’ll probably like the one we played most often.”

“Yeah?” he rasped. She nodded, gaze half-lidded and caught in the pull of his own.

“Yeah. It's like a mix of truth-or-dare and strip poker, but also spilling your deepest, darkest secrets. As the game goes on it usually gets pretty juicy.” Where his eyebrows used to be lifted up in interest. She snorted. “In more ways than one.”

“Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” The Ghoul sat up with a grunt.

“Got a place in mind, Mr. Mayor? I think the entire floor of your office is being used by a group of drifters that came into town earlier.” The grin he gave her was nothing short of predatory.

“I got an idea, yeah. Should keep us nice and cool.” He paused as he got up and stretched his back. “…and I’ll grab some of the good stuff.”

(And anyhow, he reasoned with himself as he made his way down into the Old State House. They certainly deserved it after the day they'd had.)

Chapter Text

They had been passing a quaint little settlement called Covenant when they decided to stop in, looking for possible trade routes or errands for caps. Nora had seemed just as put off as her partner when they were required to complete the SAFE test at the gates, offering sneers as answers to the questions, her sarcasm biting and obvious.

“Old Mr. Abernathy has locked himself in his quarters again, and you've been ordered to get him out. How do you proceed?”

“I’d trade for a cherry bomb and blow that fucker open.”

“Oh…kay? Well, uh- next question. You decide it would be fun to play a prank on your father. You enter his private restroom when no one is looking, and….”

“I'd put a firecracker in his toilet. That never gets old.” At the man’s pause, she elaborated. “I’m saying that I enjoy destroying property and upsetting authority figures.”

They still allowed them in. It made Nora and Hancock spare each other a look before proceeding.

The entire excursion was a mess. They ran into Honest Dan immediately, who informed them quickly and quietly that he was trying to find out where a missing caravan went, and where Old Man Stockton’s daughter had been taken to. Hancock knew that Nora had a soft spot for Stockton, especially as she continued to work with him for the Railroad.

(Throw in someone’s kid getting kidnapped? He knew she couldn’t say no.)

The pair were immediately on the case. They started with trying to casually ask around, hitting dead end after dead end, until eventually settling in a little back alley for a breather- Nora rubbing her face, irritated.

“This is going nowhere,” she muttered to him. He had quickly suggested Daddy-O, explaining to her its uses and drawbacks. At her agreement, sticking her arm out and looking away, he pushed a dose into her vein before he himself shot up thereafter. They had then put their noses to the ground, practically hounding the residents about the missing caravans with little to no tact. Eventually they were able to piece together some information from folks about some sort of Compound and moved to grab Honest Dan to follow the trail.

The rest of the day really sucked. When they had finally arrived at the Compound- a goddamn sewer entrance as its front door- things got increasingly odd and uncomfortable. And violent.

They had met Dr. Rosalyn Chambers who had told them in no uncertain terms that her and her team had been torturing synths, about the goal of the Compound, and the anti-synth sentiments that they had built Covenant around.

“What's wrong with you?” Nora hissed.

"In Diamond City, a lifetime ago, my parents and eight others were massacred by someone. At first we thought the maniac was human. But that was the day we learned of the Institute's latest creations. The synths. As long as the Institute walks invisibly amongst us, they strike without warning and control us from the shadows."

“I’m sorry you lost people,” the Sole Survivor started, cheeks starting to burn with anger. “But that sounds so fucking stupid. Scapegoating because you can’t handle the fact that there are assholes out there- just like you- who hurt for the sake of hurting.” Her nose wrinkled with the formation of a snarl.

“Can’t abide by that shit,” Hancock nodded behind her, fingers twitching on the trigger of his shotgun.

The firefight after was inevitable, especially because the xenophobic assholes shot first.

(And his Vaultie had shown no hesitations in returning fire, he thought proudly.)

It was a massacre. They found and released Amelia, Stockton’s daughter, along with anyone else behind cell bars, before proceeding forward to dispose of all of the guards and doctors in the tunnel system. After they cleared the way and parted with Honest Dan, the pair left a wide berth between them and the synth-trap known as Covenant- though it seemed to not be enough, as the entire town crested the hill and started shooting.

When the dust settled, there was a pile of bodies soaking in a large puddle of blood. Nora and Hancock slowly made their way back to Goodneighbor in solemn silence, fingers intertwined, as the scent of iron drifted with them on the wind.

The good stuff he collected and brought down to the basement of the Old State House ended up being two handles of liquor and both a pocket full of Jet and a pocket full of Mentats. Their game, Nora had explained, was pretty straightforward. Regular poker rules, but with a twist. Whoever lost the hand chose truth or dare had to discard a piece of clothing. Refusal of the truth or the dare required the doffing of another article of clothing. They had scrounged up an old deck of playing cards and had been going through any and every topic that came to mind. And with the Daddy-O on board, not much was off limits, their curiosity outweighing decorum. They got handsy, sure- made out a few times- but after a few rounds, they sunk into streak of truth.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that they were unaffected as a muggy heat settled in the Old State House, the pair sitting on a mattress they pulled to the floor in the grossly unused holding cell of the basement. They had both been poking and prodding at the other’s defenses- some questions earnest, others outright dirty.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Her jeans were promptly thrown across the room.

“Best way to end a romp that really gets ya goin' for round two.” Nora let out a surprised laugh.

“We were just talking about childhood trauma and now you wanna talk about sex?” He shrugged. "Don't you think we're a little far into our relationship to not know this already?"

“Consider it a palate cleanser.” She snickered at his blasé response, shifting to crack her back and tilt her head thoughtfully. “Though I have a feeling I already know by now.”

“I think it’s when you cum inside me.” He tilted his head in a mirror, slightly, before smiling at her with deceptive fondness. 

It made her ache all over.

“You like it when I stuff you full? Keep you drippin’ with me all day?” Nora’s cheeks and chest burned, the combination of his adoration and blatant dirty talk making her bashful.

“Yeah. What about it?” The tough front she tried to put up was obliterated by her wide, wet eyes, and her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “Feels good, that’s all.” With a hard stare sent her way, a lopsided smile formed on his face.

“Greedy girl," the half-naked Ghoul practically purred. "Glad it doesn’t seem to hurt much anymore.”

“It’s been- weird,” she searched for the words with a brief wrinkle of her nose. “It doesn’t- it doesn’t sting as much. Like the tissue isn’t as inflamed afterwards. Like- like I don’t get as sick as I should. As I used to.” He had thought it was just that they had been on top of administering RadAway almost immediately after most of their romps and Rad-X before.

(But if she was saying that this was becoming more and more manageable…)

“I always say that if we figure out how to turn you Ghoul, we could do this long term.“ 

“It sounds like you’re saying you don’t want long term if I’m not a Ghoul.”

“Do you like to argue?”

“I used to get paid for it.”

“Explains a lot,” he grumbled.

Though raunchy topics had been the recurring theme thus far, they still had had some deep conversation.

“As much as I hate to- truth.”

“Damn shame,” Nora muttered, wetting her dry lips with her tongue as she peered at his mostly unclothed form. He felt particularly vulnerable, but tried to keep it close to his chest and not squirm under her gaze. It was hard to keep the negative thoughts at bay, even when she looked at him like she wanted to devour him.

(He just had to swallow down his discomfort and he was sure it’d pass.)

“You took 2C-A.” His hand immediately shook around the neck of one of the handles of liquor. Hancock cleared his throat.

“What?”

“The drug that turned you Ghoul. 2C-A.”

“That ain’t much of a question,” Hancock croaked. She looked at him intently, scouring his expression for something.

“Guess not,” Nora offered. The air stilled for a moment before he took another swig of liquor and handed the bottle back to her.

“Where’d ya hear that?” His face pulled in a facsimile of playfulness. She smelled his bullshit, but only softened her gaze.

“Read it in one of those overdue books I’ve been returning to the library.”

“So freaky with those books, sunshine. The bookworm bit really gets me goin’.”

“I’m freaky because I read books?”

“No, you’re freaky because you read them obsessively. Hold ‘em real far away, like you’re scared of ‘em.” She gave him a queer look. “What?”

“I can’t read.” The mayor sputtered, almost dropping the inhaler of Jet he was picking up from the pile.

“What do you mean, you can’t read?” she shrugged, picking at her cuticles, her cards face-down in front of her.

“I don’t have my readers. Gotta get really far to actually see what’s on the page. When stuff is that close to my face, it gets blurry.”

“It’s why you don’t go up close ‘n personal,” Hancock murmured as the puzzle pieces fell together. She nodded, nose scrunching.

“Hacking’s hard now, too. Easier terminals aren’t bad, the text is spaced pretty well. As the screen gets more cluttered, it’s harder.”

“You prefer lock picking.”

“That’s based off feel,” she confirmed. “I can handle that.”

“Huh,” he murmured, gaze pinning her in place, even when he took two hits of Jet. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’tcha?” She let out a dry laugh. “Aw, don’t be gettin’ all shy on me now, baby. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“‘m not ashamed,” she grumbled.

“Embarrassed, then,” he rasped, leaning forward to pluck at the strap of her tank top. The Sole Survivor waved his hand away half-heartedly.

“That was a freebie, and you didn’t answer me,” she argued, knocking back more liquor. “Did you take 2C-A?”

“I knew it would turn me Ghoul.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Why does it matter what it’s called?” She went quiet. “You tryin’ to find more of it or somethin’?”

“So you’re passing on the question.” They held eye contact for a long moment. “Alright then, Casanova. Take another layer off.” He hesitated. She raised a brow. “John?” He cleared his throat, looking away to pick up more Mentats and throw them back.

“It was experimental,” he offered after another moment of her chewing on her bottom lip, torn between the tugs on her heart strings and suspicion around his sudden dodging. “Okay?”

As he tugged off his blouse, Nora’s brow furrowed and heart ached. Pupils blown as they searched his face, she picked up her cards with a quiet breath.

“… okay.”

“Your turn, baby. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Hancock paused, licking his lack of lips after ashing his cigarette.

“Why do you keep calling me handsome?” Desperate to keep his tone casual, he distinctly missed the mark, based on how his partner squinted at him with lips twisted in confusion.

“Sorry,” she offered after a moment. “I don’t- I don’t understand the question.”

“C’mon Nora, we both know how I look under the duds. Now I know you ain’t tryna bullshit me, but-“

“You think I’m… lying?” He couldn’t exactly make out the emotion in her voice, on her face. The Sole Survivor looked very confused, like she was attempting to solve some intricate puzzle.

(Shitty time for her to have taken that chem, he cursed himself. She was usually pretty perceptive, but he wouldn’t be able to pull anything over on her. He had no control over the conversation.)

“I think you love me,” he snorted.

“I do,” Nora immediately insisted. The Ghoulish mayor bobbed his head, knocking back another gulp of vodka from a recently opened bottle. “But you… think I’m lying to you. About how attractive you are.” It was like she was trying to work out her thoughts aloud, the Daddy-O practically causing an overload.

“I think you love me,” he replied again, looking back down at his cards and shuffling them around in his hand.

“… I’m very- I’m upset right now,” Nora stated, matter-of-fact. “I’m very, very upset right now. Lying? You think I’m lying.” Face twisting into a pained look, she continued, “You think I just say it because… I love you?” Her lips moved in a stutter. “That I just tolerate your body because I’m only… that I’m just with you for your- your what? Power? Chems?”

“Don’t make such a show about it. Just admit it and we can move on. I got more clothes to get you out of.” She stared at him instead, hard.

“I’m just- my brain is- my head is spinning. You truly believe that,” she asked again, though it sounded more like a statement. “I have begged for your cock down my throat. I touch you at every opportunity, I think I’ve put my lips to every inch of you- I’ve eaten your ass, goddamnit. And you think, what, that I don’t find you attractive? That I tolerate your looks because, what? I love you? I enjoy spending time with you? And I just have to put up with looking at you? Touching you?” the General repeated, thoroughly flabbergast. Working out her confusion aloud. He frowned.

“Stop bullshitting. It ain’t sexy.” Hancock started getting angrier, a tempest picking up under his ruined skin. Itchy, irritating.

“I love you,” she replied, parroting him. “I love you so much. But I think you’re incredibly attractive. I think you’re hot, sexy, desirable, handsome, fucking- fucking beautiful-“

“Stop,” he grit out. The cards bent in his tight grip.

“- and I’ll keep saying it and believing it until you get it through your head- your incredibly smart head- that I mean what I say.” Her fingers curled around the neck of a bottle next to her knee and, as she lifted it to her mouth, her hand shook something awful.

(Rage, he realized, puzzled. She was angry?)

“I’m not expecting you to-“

“I’m not expecting you to change how you view yourself just because I say something.” Bottle shaking with the force of being placed back on the ground, a scowl overtook her features. “I am expecting you to believe me.”

There was a tense silence in the space- suffocating, drowning. With a stuttered breath, eyes flickering between his at his silence, she continued.

“Let’s start at the top, then. I love running my fingers over your head. It’s so soft- and your eyes- if I look at them in the right light, you have these beautiful grey pupils that light up when you get to solve a problem. Your mouth- I love feeling it against me, on me. It’s gorgeous when you smile with your whole face, how you show real, true joy-“

“Stop!” he suddenly roared, cards fluttering to the ground as he stood up with fists and teeth clenched. "Just stop! You can’t truly believe-"

“You’re hot! Get over it!” she yelled back, standing opposite of him. They glared at each other, eyes sharp and snarls marring their features. It was tense, all straining muscles and viciousness. “If you really think I’m as gorgeous as you say, then why am I not allowed to feel that way about you? I’ve seen myself in the mirror too, asshole. It isn’t pretty. But I don’t think you’re- you’re lying to me!”

He frowned. “What do you mean, it isn’t pretty?” The Ghoul was floored. “You really think-“

“See? See?!” Nora threw her hands up. “I need- I need a walk, I need to- I’m gonna fucking lose it-“ She tried to brush past him, pass over the threshold of the cell. The only warning she got was the loud groan of metal before the cell bars slammed in her face. “What the fuck, Hancock?” His weathered hand withdrew from one of the bars, his face morphed into a sneer.

“You think you can say shit like that and just walk?”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that? Let. Me. Out.” His shoulders slowly dropped in a controlled descent, his countenance forcibly relaxing. She knew better, though- his eyes shone in the harsh light, inspecting her like she was a puzzle to be solved. Solved with force.

(After all, it wasn’t like the Daddy-O was pushing him towards diplomacy.)

The mayor shrugged, all nonchalance and casual. “Must’ve forgotten the key.” Nora practically bared her teeth.

“You are not serious.”

“Like I said, can’t just say shit like that and roll out of here.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to call me a liar, but I have to stand here and be fucking slandered?”

He took a step forward. The former vault dweller didn’t move an inch.

“You ain’t runnin’.” She snarled at him in response. “… odd being on the other side of it. Never thought I’d see the day.” Hancock allowed himself a brief, harsh puff of air in the form of a heh. “You’re really not gonna fess up?”

“That I think you’re hot? Sure. You’re fucking hot. I thought so before we got together and I still think so now. And you drive me up the fucking wall.”

He took another step.

“Nora.”

“John.”

Another step brought him up close and personal.

“Sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” His hand twitched to the knife on his hip. She tracked the movement with sharp eyes.

“Whoever is, it ain’t you. You’re just as stuck in here as I am.” He unsheathed his knife. Nora bit the inside of her cheek, and if not for the Daddy-O in his system, he surely would have missed it.

(Bingo.)

“I can call the Watch.”

“You think they’d let you out and just leave me in here?”

“Go ahead ‘n try,” he sounded amused. It made her boil.

“Matthew! We’re in the holding cell! Can you let us out?” she yelled up the stairs.

“Who’s we?” the rasp carried down from the floor above them, faint.

“Just us, brother- don’t bother coming down here!”

“… Madam Mayor doesn’t sound too happy, boss.” The voice sounded a little thinner, a little more unsure.

“I’ll take care of it.” Nora growled at his response and started digging through her pockets for a bobby pin. He flipped the knife to hold the flat of the blade between his fingers, smacking her hand with the handle. With a squawk of indignation, she quickly grabbed the knife and tossed it through the bars.

A hard stare between them was the only preface to a flurry of movement, his hand flying towards his boot to grab another knife. She caught the movement immediately, her fingers gripping his bony wrist with a harsh hold. They snarled at each other again. She tried to keep his wrist in her grip, but he slipped out of her sweaty hold easily, hooking the blade on the strap of her tanktop and slicing it. They hadn’t expressly included knives in their relationship, but if her reaction was any indication of how she felt about it, he felt wholly comfortable with continuing.

“You- you asshole-“ Nora stuttered, hand immediately shooting up to hold her top against her chest. At her distraction, he pulled her close with a harsh grip on her hip and sliced through her other strap with a flick of his wrist. It was easy for him, with her hands preoccupied, to tear through her underwear as well, the damp scrap falling to the ground unceremoniously. “Hey-!” The cool press of his blade against her cheek wrought a snarl from the Vaultie, but also pulled her mouth shut. The tip of his knife traced down her neck.

“Who’s in charge here, Nora?” the Ghoul practically cooed. “G’head, tell me.” Her lips twitched but she stayed quiet. His fingers dug into the fat of her hips, his weapon sliding down to the valley of her breasts and carefully brushing against her nipples through the tatters of her top. It punched a whine from her throat, which evolved into a shout when he ducked down to take a peaked nub into his mouth. His knife continued down, tracing along her skin almost reverently.

“E-eat shi- ah-“ Nora’s head tipped back as he worked her tits over, sucking and licking and mouthing at them emphatically. She shook under his hands, her own shooting out to grab at him. The second her hands dropped, so too did her top, and he took the opportunity to bite at her, laving over the buds of her nipples with intense focus. As Hancock's blade traced over the parts of her body he could reach, he was careful but lazy. The first drops of milk on his tongue punched a groan from him, the knife clattering out of his grip to free a hand, pawing at her tits- squeezing, groping.

“O-oh my- oh god-“ she squealed, pushing at his shoulders. “J-John- John-“

“God, baby. Can’t get enough’a you,” he murmured around her tits, moving his head to her neglected breast. “C’mon, you got more for me.”

“You’re- it’s- I can’t-“

“You can,” he asserted against her skin, licking a stripe across her nipple. “’N you will.” Each article of clothing ended up littered around the cell as he managed to get her on the mattress under him. She tried to spit and snap at him, but each time her gaze passed over him, she perceived something that made her shake, instead.

“Mad- I’m mad-“

“Then do something about it,” Hancock challenged. “Or are you just gonna take what I give you? Like a good girl?” Though she shivered and her hips canted up in search of relief, the Sole Survivor scrambled to push at him so they could flip. He eventually ended up with his back against the mattress and her tits in his face.

The Mayor’s distraction worked out well for his partner.

Nora managed to get him on his back just long enough to scoot up toward his face, knees pinning his arms and her pussy pressing against his face harshly with shaking thighs. He shuddered under her, weak against the smell and taste of her. Vibrating with a groan, the quick press of something wet and warm swiped up her slit. The Railroad agent took his momentary distraction to reach above and grab the flag hung over the cell bars above, hips twitching into the warmth of his mouth.

He was already starting up a smooth and steady rhythm against her cunt, saturated with both his spit and her slick. At every humid pant of air against her, his partner’s back arching at the press of his tongue against her clit, he could hear her vaguely from between the earmuffs of her thighs, stuttering and trying and failing to complete a thought. He was sure that he’d be able to see the smoke coming out of her ears after he got her nice and pliant beneath him.

The shift of her weight off of his arms allowed her to gather his wrists up in her hands, threading their fingers together. She shifted her weight forward to press more firmly against him, a low moan shaking through her and against his mouth. When he felt like she was subdued enough, distracted enough, he went to move his hands to grasp her hips to flip her.

A grunt of surprise escaped his occupied mouth when he felt the bounding around his wrists the moment he moved to separate them from her hold.

Nora shifted back to hover over his chest, panting and flushed, wearing a mischievous grin. He tested the strength of the knot, finding the tiniest bit of give. He could work with that- bide his time. His stare burned her.

“Playing dirty,” Hancock rasped, mouth and cheeks shining with her arousal. “Outsmarted me this time, baby. You may have won the battle-“ he paused, eyes burning. Calculating. Looking for chinks in the armor, Daddy-O and Mentats a potent and terrible combination. “-but I’ll win the war.”