Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

'Long About Midnight	By : RedScythe2003 Category: +A through F > Fallout (Series) > Fallout (Series) Views: 3513 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout: New Vegas or any of the characters contained therein. No profit is being made as a result of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
By the time one of the underlings retrieved him the action had passed so Vulpes stared at the dark red squid in the metal pan. According to the Courier the strange, tentacled blob had been within Caesar's skull for at least two years. It had been pressing and prodding the his brain, firing off the rage and pain centers like an entity of pure torture.

Despite the blood, yellow-hued flesh, and bandages, the head of the Legion seemed to be resting somewhat easily. The Frumentarius had seen the care the exalted one put into reattaching bits of skull and stitching flesh back in place. The man was almost loving despite the fact his liege would most likely enslave him as his personal physician were he conscious. The wandering saint smiled slightly but it did not detract from the blood on his white coat or the pale shirt beneath it, the sleeves rolled up somewhere amid his divine work.

The Savage Fox found his eyes drawn to the smears of sanguine polluting the fabric, making it red. Crimson, the color of the Legion, complimented the man's dark complexion and offset his hair, especially when he shifted back from the bright lamps that had been set up to light the area during surgery. The blood and sweat looked heavenly in the late afternoon sun, showing the angel that walked the earth in all his nigh immortal splendor.

Perhaps it was the relief of knowing Caesar would live or gratitude toward the wandering wasteland savior. It could have been that old idiom about opposites attracting, but Vulpes thought it all came down to the moment the man used the back of one hand to rub his cheek. Whatever itch the Courier had became inconsequential when the Frumentarius saw red smudged on his cheek. The holy man was smeared with his leader's blood, a single swipe standing out under his right eye.

He wanted it- the blood- the man- the belief the Legion could become something truly divine in the Mojave. He saw the weary but satisfied smile on the man's face as he rinsed his tools in the corner of Caesar's bed chamber. Then he lunged toward him, pinning the man to the side of the tent using his whole body, his palms resting on the Courier's upper arms as he stared into the dark eyes of the living Saint. The man did not lose his smile, but he also knew better than to blink so close to a true beast of the Wasteland.

Silence stretched out before Vulpes responded to the mild curiosity in the unwavering gaze. "I am pleased you were able to cure Caesar's malady," he purred, looking for a sign of weakness... a moment of fear so he could pounce. "Though the Legate is a fine leader, we yet need the wisdom of Caesar to guide the Legion."

"That may be true," he agreed, locked into the stare they shared. "It wasn't my motivation though..."

"Your motivation?" he prompted. "That interests me."

"It would," the Courier chuckled, a low easy sound that fanned sparks within the predator that restrained him. "I don't know that you'd understand, given what I saw in Nipton."

"Try me," he insisted. "We might both learn something, Profligate."

"I saved Caesar's life because it was in danger," he murmured, smiling as he finally shut his eyes.

And Vulpes did not understand, but that did not stop him from shifting forward to lick the blood from his prey's face. His master's blood... the sweat of the Mojave Messiah... it was ambrosia on the tip of his tongue, especially combined with that deep, husky chuckle. Apparently he was cause for amusement, but he cared not one iota as he savored the flavor... the scent of his target... the body heat seeping through their garments. He hungered for it- all of it.

"Down boy," the Courier murmured, holding his position. "We can't have you on edge over another Profligate whore, one who goes out of his way to provide services for whoever needs them."

He growled wordlessly, ready to dye the exalted ones coat scarlet with his blessed blood if only to stop him talking. The man had saved Caesar, a great boon to the Legion, and asked no reward... wanted no reward from them. However, Vulpes saw no reason to leave a debt in their ledger when he could repay the kindness of such a virtuous man before he left... Or perhaps it came down to the breathy way the holy figure had called itself a whore that made him feel such... compulsions.

Wordlessly he pulled the hero from the tent wall and led him to the long table in the middle of the room, noting the casual compliance in the man. He looked to Caesar, drowsing on the bed then at the closed tent flap, knowing they were isolated for what the Courier called "concerns of sanitation." Either way he was thankful as he guided the doctor to sit on the dark, polished wood while he decided what he intended to do with the man.

He stared into those dark, almost Brahmin like eyes, so calm and at ease, as though the Messiah of the Wasteland had nothing to fear. When Vulpes thought about it, he realized it was true because the man was a savior, a hero to the sick and dying, no matter whose flag flew overhead. Anyone who thought they could kill such a man was a fool and would die a fool's death, alone in the Wasteland.

A surge of annoyance rose in him as he realized the man would never choose to serve the Legion despite his skill and their purpose. That made it a little easier to draw the man's khaki-clad thighs apart and shift between them, his pale hand tracing up the material almost aggressively. The Courier responded to the action by leaning back and allowing him to reach his goal, his palm pressed to the man's half-hardened length beneath the fabric.

So the Saint of the Wasteland had a weakness for being put in the inferior position and told what to do? He could work with that. He had years of experience working with subordinates. A smile graced his face as he leaned toward the man again, inhaling the scent of him, all anesthetic, blood, and sweat. His palm continued to caress him while he shifted his lips toward the man's ear, ready to see how far he could push his luck with the holy man.

"My, my," he murmured. "Have I discovered some reward I can offer the worthy Courier for his work?"

"I told you already," he moaned, working to keep his voice down. "I don't need a reward, least of all from the Legion."

"Oh, this is not on behalf of the Legion," he rumbled, running his nose along the man's earlobe. The Courier shivered at the contact, hips pressing forward so he thrust just slightly into the hand that was against him. "I am doing this on my own initiative..."

He drew back and watched the man sway slightly into the vacuum where he had just been, eyes half-lidded, his bottom lip tucked gently between his perfect, white teeth. Then Vulpes set both hands on the waist of his prey's trousers, undoing the button with ease before focusing on the pre-war zipper, which stuck slightly. A breathy laugh escaped the messiah before the mechanism functioned fully, allowing him to change his grip to the pants themselves once again.

Without verbal prompting, the Courier shifted his pelvis up, putting his weight on the insides of his knees and his palms that were leaving just a hint of moisture on the desk beneath him. The Frumentarius drew the garment down as well as the grey boxers within, exposing deeply tanned, muscular thighs and... other bits of anatomy that took the opportunity to flex as the holy wanderer put his weight back down.

He kept his eyes on the man's face as he drew his clothing down, leaving the material bunched over his combat boots. There was no fight in the man that had sought to defy the Legion's machinations as Vulpes let his calloused hand encircle the man's length, almost disappointed to see those dark eyes close all the way. He stroked him gently, wanting to draw the moment out and observe just as he had been trained... though he doubted Caesar ever intended he use his skills as a spy in such a way.

Despite the moment, he felt his own gaze shifted, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the man was still breathing. Sure enough the divine Courier's work was yet intact, leaving him almost ashamed he had dared to doubt the man's work. Of course, he was fortunate to find those brown eyes still shielded, fixed on something he could only guess as he let his calloused palm run along such warm, smooth flesh.

"Look at me," he insisted, knowing he had to keep the situation in his control if he were going to corrupt the golden one that walked the Mojave as though no one had ever sinned.

The man pursed his dusky lips, looking almost childishly put out by the request before he complied, head turning at a slight angle as he did. "But then I'll be able to see you for what you are," he replied, still bucking slightly against his hand.

"And how would you prefer to see me?" the Frumentarius murmured.

"That's something else you wouldn't understand," he insisted, pausing to hiss as he was squeezed more tightly. "What would you say to Lucius if he walked in at this moment?"

"Something that would defame your sainted character," he retorted, almost sighing contentedly as the man thrust at his tone. "I'm sure there are many more interesting people that might have questions about what we are doing right now..."

He said nothing for several seconds, letting the pair of them simply share the thought before the inquiry came. "What are we doing right now?"

"Enjoying each other's company," he reported, before removing his hand.

The Mojave's patron saint watched as he knelt on the hard-packed earth that served as Caesar's floor, looking like some waif in prayer rather the fox about to rout an old world hare. Then he leaned forward, planning to press back the man's hanging legs below the edge of the table. Instead, he found the other man ready to draw up his limbs and allow him to crawl beneath them before draping them against his back.

A coy little smile graced those holy lips before Vulpes returned to his task, bowing his head to the messiah. It was sacrilege for the two of them to be able to touch without one bursting into flames, so opposite were their natures, yet there he was, his palms standing out stark white against the deep tan of his legs. His lips kissed the tender flesh at the tip of his arousal, causing a breathy gasp to escape the man, only to be drowned out when his tongue brushed the slit, tasting the first little bit of celestial honey that had accumulated there.

He was gentle but thorough as he lapped at the man's skin, touching the underside and the length of him with his lips, his tongue... The Courier cursed in a whimper, weakened by his own chastity, unused to being used so intimately. He resisted his base nature so well, until someone was stoking it like a blaze, working his way to the base with the patience reserved for any tactical situation.

His arousal was beginning to become bothersome despite how professional he intended to be, but he put it out of his mind as he began to climb back to the head of his companion's own. He worked slowly, blue eyes raised to watch as the sacred wanderer bit his lip once more, letting each sensation break over him like a wave. He knew such gentle handling would not need to last forever, but it felt that way as his prey's gentle face lingered in an expression on the edge of pain.

After several cycles of mere pressure he felt there might be cause for more so he began to create suction, making the man pant and rise slightly. It was nothing severe, but it was enough to let him know his prey enjoyed the sensation without words. His tongue shifted, independently, pressing one side of his length then the other before focusing its teasing attention on the veins along the underside.

Things were speeding up as the saint began to thrust at regular intervals, nudging the top of his mouth or against the back of his throat with a subtle urgency. It was mirrored in a feeling of hunger the pale Frumentarius could not define as he contracted his cheeks, feeling the sides of the Courier's arousal brush against them. It was tactile heaven as nerves met and he made his prey incautious... vulnerable... slowly letting control slip with each thrust.

The noises that escaped the ethereal traveller were still suppressed but had become increasingly bestial. Gasps had given way to somewhat immodest moans before his hands had moved of their own accord, pressing to Vulpes' scalp, guiding him with some restraint despite the rest of his body suggesting it should be otherwise. Every movement was telegraphed by the twitching nerves against his tongues, his lips...

It was only a matter of time as he let his head bob more quickly, struggling to provide more and more sensation to eventually overwhelm his target. Another wholly uncharacteristic epithet escaped the man's mouth before the warm, salty tang of release. The fox continued to rise and fall, working every little bit he could from his partner, both for his own arousal and to avoid leaving any evidence for the Praetorian.

When the last traces were safely swallowed, he shifted back enough to release the Wasteland Messiah's now-flaccid length. He gazed up at the man's face, flushed and content like the images of painted saints he had seen when Caesar once sent them to burn a pre-war museum. His fingers ran against the Frumentarius' hair, petting him softly as he came down from the glorious high, most likely on some higher plane.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice so soft after all the animal noises that had been drawn from him over the previous span.

Before Vulpes could reply, there was a sound behind him of something stirring on the bed. He offered a slight incline of his head rather than a verbal response before he shifted down and back. He drew free of the Courier's legs and made a pretense of wiping the dirt from his knees in order to make sure his own arousal was safely hidden from view within the confines of his garments.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

'Long About Midnight