F!LW/Charon, Jealous Desmond
Okay, so I know that there are going to be Desmond fans who are not happy with me, but I just couldn't help myself with this. I do enjoy Lithium-crystal's Desmond fics, maybe way too much, but I like Charon just a bit better. Anyway, this came out way worse in Word than in my head. Could someone invent something that takes the ideas we have in our heads and translate them perfectly onto our computer? And confession time, this was originally supposed to be Desmond's thoughts from the point of view of the third person in a threesome. However, I do not have the perspective or confidence to write the story from that P.O.V. If anyone is interested in writing it from
that
perspective, please go right ahead.
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For three glorious nights, he had her to himself. And because he was a fool and fell in love with her, he followed her back to the Capital Wasteland. And he watched her run into the arms of another man, kiss him silly and then motion for him to step off the ferry. Desmond Lockheart knows about hate. But this was his first lesson in jealousy in a long time. Charon is tall, red haired and mostly silent. He throws his arm around her shoulders and listens as she talks about her advenures in Point Lookout. Desmond feels like a fool, a fifth wheel the other man obviously does not want around.
"So, she saved your ass, huh?" Charon asked later that night after she's gone to bed.
"Yes. She helped me defeat someone I've been fighting since before the war." Desmond said. Charon doesn't have to ask about that, he has his own pre-war history that he doesn't feel like sharing.
"Sleep with her?" Charon asked casually and Desmond knew he'd better answer carefully if he wanted to keep the remains of his skin intact.
"I-" he breaks off as those pale blue eyes pin on him, silently demanding the truth. "Yes. We shared a bed for three nights." he admits and Charon grunts non-commitally. "Will you be angry with her?" Desmond asked before he could help himself.
"No. Honestly, I half expected as much. She's a woman who likes to be held. All that matters is that she's back. You want down here or the shack?" Charon asks and Desmond wants to be with her, but the tone of the question says that isn't an option.
"I'll take the shack."
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Desmond groans, his hand around his erection, listening to her moans through the metal walls. Eyes closed, arm over his eyes, Desmond imagines her under him, writhing with pleasure and as she yells, he muffles his own groan of release. But it isn't his name he hears her call a moment later. It's his. Charon, loud and high. Desmond rolls over, pulls the blanket up and presses the pillow over his head, drowning out the rest of it. Images of those three nights and glorious two days flash through his mind. He knew from the way she talked about her adventures in the Wasteland she had someone special there, but he had quietly hoped that maybe if he pleased her enough, she would stay with him.
"-Desmond..." his name drifts through the wall and the pillow, catching his attention. Releasing the pillow, he rolls over to listen. "-Aw, come on, Charon. It wasn't that bad!" she said and there's a giggle, something he never heard when it was just them. "Stop! That tickles!" she screeches happily.
"Make me." That low growl, teasing in it's malice, came from the man Desmond would dearly love to be right now.
"As you wish." she replies and Desmond recongizes that heated tone from when she had first come to him for sex. Desmond rolls over and squashes the pillow against his head, but not before hearing her gasp in pleasure.
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It's been a week and Desmond has a brief flash of hope. She and Charon had a big fight. They've spent five nights apart and on this sixth night, Desmond decides he's going to try for it. Laying on the couch in the shack, thanks to the pre-war theme she'd bought from Moira, he can hear her cry. Charon is the living room, sleeping on that couch and Wadsworth is in the kitchen. Getting up, dressed only in his pants, Desmond slips into her room, closing the door behind him. His breathing catches slightly as he sees that she isn't wearing a damn thing. Her pale, smoothskin gleams in the faint moonlight from the full moon out tonight.
"Are you all right?" he asks softly. Jessie sniffled in response. Desmond stepped closer, sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her shoulder. He repeats his question and suddenly she sat up and kissed him. Heart pounding suddenly, Desmond immediately begins to lay her back, but she breaks the kiss.
"Behind..." she gasps, twisting out from under him and onto her hands and knees. He'll take what he can get. Sliding his pants off, Desmond wastes no time in thrusting into her. Moaning beneath him, her hips buck back against his and then it's all hot, hot, hot. This is where he was meant to be, maybe this will make her see... Those ideas in his mind are shattered when, at the halfway point, she gasps "Charon!" quietly, in a low tone. It's like a bucket of ice water has been dumped down his spine. Before anything can happen, she's squeezing him and he's groaning softly as he comes into her and hears that accursed name gasped again, this time more fervently. As their bodies fall limp, Desmond pulls away from her, taking the edge of the bed leading to the rest of the room. She takes her part of the blanket and curls with her back up against the wall. As he catches his breath, Desmond realizes that it was a lie. Those nights she called his name, those times she wrapped her legs around his waist, the way she gripped his shoulders and clutched at his back. It was his name, his waist, his shoulders and back. Desmond can see she's asleep and so he slides out the bed, pulls his pants back on and makes up his mind.
"You slept with her." the calm voice makes him jump and muffle a curse. Sitting on the couch in the shack, dressed in dark gray boxers, Charon looks up at him.
"I spent three nights with her in Point Lookout, Charon. But, and dammit, there's no way to say this without being crude, but I had her in body only. It was your name she gasped, even if it was mine that came out. It was your waist her legs wrapped around, your shoulders she gripped and your back she clutched. I had her in body. You have her in heart and soul." Desmond said, pulling out the bag he'd brought his clothing and items in. "Don't worry. Neither of you have to deal with me anymore. I'm going back to Point Lookout. I don't belong here." Desmond said. He paused, breathed heavily for a moment and turned to look at Charon. "I... I'll leave her a note. It's the least I can do." he said and Charon rose, walked to the doorway and paused, looking back at the other man.
"When did you know?" he asked. Desmond blew a long sigh.
"The way she was almost bouncing up and down when we walked down to the ferry. I just thought she was happy about me coming along. I was a fool and I know it." he said. There was almost a smile in Charon's voice.
"She has that effect on men."
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Charon climbs into bed with her and, as always, his heart skips a beat as she smiles at him.
"Hi." he whispers and her smile widens.
"Hi." she replies and moves over to cuddle up to him.
As Charon wraps his arm around her, stroking her shoulder, he thinks of a ghoul who loved a woman so much, he traveled out of his comfort zone for her and how he would never leave her, contract or not.
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For three glorious nights, he had her to himself. And because he was a fool and he fell in love with her, he followed her to the Captital Wasteland. Out of his arms and back into the arms of another man. Nothing could take away the memories of those three nights and he'll always remember them. Who knows? Maybe she'll come back to him at Point Lookout. Someday.
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