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Good Girls	By : Carleen Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > General Views: 2790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout, Fallout 4 or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Good Girls
- 1
TITLE: Good Girls
CHAPTER: Complete
AN: Sigh…this is probably one of those things that sounded funnier in my head, and maybe it should have stayed there. Rated M for a reason.
"Good girls go to heaven, and bad girls go everywhere." ―Helen Gurley Brown
"Three Laws of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law." ―Isaac Asimov
"You will now wish to have sex with me?"
Shoulda seen this coming. Why had I ever agreed to help this woman? This young lady with turquoise eyes and soft short hair that made her look like a young girl...a virgin…Fuck. I'm such a jerk. She distracted me in a way that could get a man killed. And getting killed out here in the Commonwealth was a sure thing if you didn't keep your eyes on what was in front of you, instead of on the perfectly shaped ass inside a pair of tight jeans. No—this is me giving myself a lecture—She looks like a boy. A tomboy. And tomboys are not your type.
My wife, Nora? Now, she was a lady. Tall and willowy with all that thick gorgeous hair. Nora was my idea of a desirable woman. Short hair and faded jeans make Curie look like a wide-eyed BOS Scribe or one of those homeless waifs running wild and free over the Commonwealth. Except, she's anything but that. Who in the hell am I kidding? The woman who sits next to me. On my bed. In my private room in Vault 81 has curves in all the right places. A sexy accent and looks at me like I'm the king of her world. One long thigh presses against my left leg and her breath tickles the scruff of my two-day-old beard.
I should wash up and shave. Wouldn't want to irritate that pale skin.
Thirty days since she turned from a Miss Nanny into a state-of-the-art synth. Human eyes that pinned me where I stood, legs that go all the way up to the top and a throaty voice that made me want to give her whatever she asked for. Even the armor I gave her to wear did nothing to hide the softness that makes my hands itch to touch her. I should have left her where I found her floating around those empty rooms, all alone, waiting. Dammit, that would have been cruel. What would she look like in just that leather chest piece and the belt?
Brilliant, funny, and resourceful my new friend Curie is a wet dream come true. My name is Steve, she insists on calling me by the French form of my name. Etienne comes out of her pouty little mouth like sex. Did I mention she pulled the curtains closed over the windows? Yeah, she did. She also locked the door. Is she seducing me? Why did I bring her here? Why didn't she turn into a wrinkled old woman who glowed in the dark like the picture you always see in the encyclopedia of the first Madam Curie? You know the one I mean.
I should drop her off at the next settlement. The Castle is just a few miles up the road. Perfect. Safe, secure, and most importantly out of my hair and off my bed. She could follow Preston around. Drop her off with a little peck on the cheek; pick up Paladin Danse or MacCready. Do anything—maybe we'll head east and check out that new place everyone is talking about. Nora and I visited Nuka World once before Shaun was born. We had a wonderful time. So much fun, in fact. Now that I think about it, my son was probably conceived there.
Good times.
Stop thinking about sex, you idiot. Get up, go anywhere, do anything that doesn't involve cheating on your wife or having sex with a synth. Jesus H. Christ, what would Danse think about this? Probably kick me out of the BOS for committing shenanigans with a synth. What would MacCready think? Deacon? Deacon would probably ask why I didn't invite him to join us. A warm hand on my thigh ignites the blood in my leg, changing the flow north. My feet and hands start to tingle.
"Hey! No funny stuff." I nearly shouted, twisting my fists into the bedding to keep from jumping off the bed.
She drew back as if I'd just hit her. "What is, funny stuff? I do not know what you mean. I thought...my data suggests humans enjoy physical contact. I find myself...humming inside. I feel so very...happy, in this world! Can you not feel the hum?"
"Yeah, something's humming alright." Now what, Steve? Here comes another lecture. Talking to yourself is a sign of crazy, right? You don't do virgins. Not now. Not anymore. My wife was a virgin when I met her. Of course, she was. Here in this crazy world, those old values are forgotten. No one knows I'm here. My wife is gone. I haven't had sex, let alone been touched by anyone in seven months, fifteen days and, uh, twelve hours. Yeah, I already did the math. Wait, add two hundred to that number. It's quiet out in the hallway, and that means the vault is on the night cycle.
What is she saying…?
"Sex is...Not so dangerous as fighting, but quite as vigorous an exercise? Perhaps you should try it. You seem very tense."
"Curie," I warned, my voice cracking while my head empties of blood and heads south. I'm a jerk, and I'm fighting a losing battle with biology. While I grind my teeth together and worry about the possibility of hiding my 'biology,' she just keeps talking.
"Etienne, it is so hard to wrap my head around what I feel for you. Before, there was only duty." She leans her head against my shoulder, "Now, something more."
Get a grip, you fool. I cursed my inaction. I need to move...now. The reason we came here was so I could get some rest. Why here and not one of the settlements? Never worked. I have a private space at each one, but someone always needs me to solve some problem or another. I think they make a list for me. Here, I can rest, and the vault inhabitants leave me alone. I'm still keyed up after that last battle defending Spectacle Island. A Super Mutant hit me square on the shoulder with a nail board and knocked me ass over teakettle. A neck message, then sex. That would definitely relax me, and then I could sleep.
The hand on my thigh moved, while she tucked herself under my arm. I am not going to spend the evening teaching a virgin about sex. God, I'm tired. My shoulder hurts. My head hurts… You know what would be great? A blow job. A blow job? Even Nora would only relent to that once or twice a year. Ah well, a fella can dream, can't he? No. No. No. I am not teaching this innocent virgin about oral sex. It's confirmed, I am a total jerk.
Wait a minute. Curie has years...decades...centuries of medical knowledge at her command. She might know more about sex than I do! Oh, hell no. I'm not getting tutored by a virginal synth. Especially the one with her hand smoothing over the denim of my Minutemen uniform pants. I'm hypnotized by the caressing movement of her hand. Higher. Higher.
I'm no stud. Back in my college days, I broke my quota of hearts. Then there was the army. Better not dwell on that. Anyway, I always made sure my Nora was satisfied. At least, I think she was? How would she even know? That small warm hand moved again, joined the other one and began to unbutton my shirt. I'm pretty sure I'll get kicked out of the Minutemen for having sex with a synth while in uniform. I'm screwed.
"We shouldn't do this, Curie."
"And why not? You are tense, and I am curious. We have privacy. I hold the knowledge of six thousands years of sexual practices in my memory. Shall we put it to use?"
Yes.
That little flannel shirt she wears, the one that apparently only has four buttons, slides off her shoulders. I force my eyes to follow it to the floor. It's no use because she just straddled my lap and guides my hands to her back. The Prydwen is docked at 285 feet. How cold is it, I wonder at that altitude? No power armor. Cold enough to freeze my balls off when Maxson has me keel-hauled for having sex with a synth. My fingers touch lace. Lace?
Curie whispers into my ear. "This is for you. Doctor Amari thought you might like it. You will look. Yes?"
Her warm breath sends a shiver down my spine that curls my toes. What did she say about Doctor Amari? What? It's black, lacy, and I can see her nipples poking against the fabric. My fingers curled into fists over the tissue-thin cloth.
I love you, Nora. I love you, Nora. I love you, Nora. I swear to god the bad boy in my pants feels the heat coming off that sweet spot between her legs. Wouldn't Nora want you to be happy? Wouldn't she? Wouldn't she? Would she?
"You wish me to talk dirty to you? Yes?"
Suddenly I'm standing on the other side of the room. How the…? Oh yeah, got to get away from the bad kitty on my bed. "What did Doctor Amari say to you about talking dirty? You have no business knowing such things." The anger I tried to inject into my tone failed miserably. I resisted the urge to adjust myself by keeping a white-knuckle grip on the door. Ignore it, and it will go away. Not when she rises from the bed and toes off her boots. The socks follow. With her eyes locked on mine, she opens her jeans one button at a time.
I'm a bad boy.
Down they come. Sliding over that perfect bottom like they don't want to give it up. She gives the worn denim a tug to get them over that little heart shaped ass. My mouth is dry, and all the air is sucked out of the room when I see the panties. Here I stand like a schoolboy trying to hide a hard-on the size of the Prydwen. Great analogy, huh? Maybe that's the nickname she'll give it…when she…you know…
They match the bra. Fuck! And the tiny curls I see under the sheer lace match the slow burn of auburn hair on her head. She walks toward me with a smile and a look I've never seen from any woman anywhere. Not even the kind you pay for. Hey. Don't judge. I was in the Army, remember? Curie stops with inches between us. Inches the Prydwen is trying its best to span. The remaining buttons on my uniform shirt pop and fly across the room like shotgun pellets. My boots follow soon after. I hope she doesn't notice the hole in my sock!
"If you do not find me desirable then just say so. Mais oui, I am how do you say it, Chaud au trot? Not, that is not it." She shook her curly head and frowned up at me. "Is it, hot to trot?"
Like a dumb jerk, all I could do was nod. When she flattened her hot little hands on my chest, I sucked in some air.
"I think you do not wish me to find someone else to trot with. Yes?"
Then, I don't know how it happened, but my left arm circled her tiny waist. While my right hand tangled in her hair. She gave a little gasp when I hauled her against me. And she whimpered into my mouth when I kissed her. Not exactly positive reactions. Yes?
In a moment that lasted long enough to doubt the wisdom of my action, she responded to my kiss with every minute of those six thousand years of experience behind it. While I'm trying to stay on my feet, her busy hands open my pants. Some part of me felt them pool around my feet. I kicked them away. That's all I needed, and now I'm home free. Another one of those analogies. How can I even think with this cuddly sex kitten clinging to my neck and scratching my chest with that wisp of lace hiding her perfect breasts? I braced my feet and lifted her against me, and she responded by wrapping her legs around my hips. Good girl.
"You're not going anywhere." My warning came out like the proprietary roar of a lion, and I watched her eyes blink. I'm pretty sure I can make it to the bed before I ravish her. When I felt my knees hit the edge, I let her fall. Then she did some magic thing with her hips, and I'm inside her before we hit the mattress.
Her pretty pink mouth formed a perfect oh when I settled between her legs. I rested my forearms next to her head and framed her face with my hands. It's a furnace inside her. Hot and wild like those radiation storms that spread across the Commonwealth. The heat radiates across my skin, jumping from bone to ligament and igniting every nerve in my body. The green lightning dances down my spine making my hips move and I've got to move. Now. She quickly settles into a rhythm, and while we rock together, I kiss those pouty lips, taste the delicate ear lobes, rub my nose through the warm strands of her curly head and promise her that next time I'll make my kitten purr. But right now I need…
My kitten scratched her nails up my back. In between arching away from the pain of the furrows, I'm sure she just carved into my skin, my vision goes white, and my world narrows down to a pair of turquoise eyes and the thrumming pulse of my orgasm.
While I caught my breath, she held me tenderly. I love it when women do that. Don't you? Just as I'm about to ask her something completely inane like was it good for you, she reached down between us. Instead of touching me, which I don't really want or need right now. Not now, anyway. I am ready to hear how much she enjoyed my attentions. What?
"Curie?"
"You were too fast, my love."
Ouch.
Her little fingers are moving faster and faster while she pushes her hips off the bed.
"I feel too impatient, too hot to trot, to wait out your refractory period."
"My what?" Come on now. Give a guy a break. It's not like I started this. Then again, neither, apparently, did I finish it.
"Following excitation in the areas of biology, physiology, and cardiology…"
I watch her chest rise and fall…she hadn't acted like this a moment ago. Her breath is coming in pants, like tiny puffs of lady-like passion against my neck while I lay here like… never mind.
"…it is the recovery time of an excitable membrane before it is ready for a second stimulus once it returns to its resting state. In simpler terms, the refractory period is the recovery phase after orgasm during which…"
She'd got a hold of me now, and I'm seriously wondering just how bad this will hurt when she separates my shoulders from my arms.
"…it is physiologically impossible for an individual to have additional orgasms."
I'm starting to worry about the survival rate of the Prydwen—those hot little muscles of hers are clenching me like a vise—when my delicate little Curie lifted me off the bed with her hips and dumped me on the mattress. I watch her body ripple, and it's sexy as hell. Just wish I were a necessary participant. Apparently, not.
She went very still, inhaled sharply and let out a sound so primal, I swear it alerted every male death claw and yao guai within a ten-mile radius. Then I gather her up to say something manly and important to remind her I'm still in control of our lovemaking session. She doesn't respond when I whisper her name. And why doesn't she respond? Because she's sound asleep. That's why.
It's gonna take more than hydrogen to raise the Prydwen…
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Good Girls