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The first time, of course, it’s all brand new. All these new sights and sounds and sensations that were previously a total mystery to him, and he makes a concentrated effort to catalogue them in his mind, in case it somehow never happens a second time. This resolve to stay objective and not lose his head wavers when he sees her naked, long stretches of soft unscarred skin, and disappears entirely once he sinks into her. This is why people care so much about sex, he realises, this is why men chase women. They have this. She’s so hot around him, and so incredibly wet, and she’s holding him like a vice. She’s holding him inside her, he realises, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. His body is inside of hers, they’ve never been closer, no one could ever get any closer than this, and he thinks Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, and then that’s the last coherent thought he has for a while.
After, after all of it, and after he’s healed, they have all the time in the world. They stay in LA just long enough for Sarah to collect her mom’s life insurance payout and attend the funerals, but after that they’re gone. They’re intensely paranoid about living off the grid, so they don’t stay in any one place for more than a few nights at a time, usually at run down old motels with suspicious mattresses, but neither of them care too much about it. Sarah develops a nervous twitch whenever they have to stop in a town, and Kyle becomes obsessive about scoping out the other guests anywhere they stay. Neither of them like being separated. They get a few guns, which helps some, and distract themselves from the anxiety by being constantly wrapped up in each other.
It’s better than he could ever have imagined, before. The long-dead woman he fell in love with from nothing but a picture and some stories is alive, and loves him, and wants to fuck about as often as they’re both physically capable. He’d been surprised at how instinctive he found it, having thought of sex as something other people did that he never quite understood, but he finds now that it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
They don’t usually talk much during, they don’t often need words to communicate, but sometimes when they’re in the mood for it they’ll talk a little, just for fun. This time, he pushes into her achingly slowly, and she lets out a long, low moan, eyelids fluttering. “That feel good?” he asks her while he takes a moment to let her body to adjust to the intrusion.
“You don’t understand, Kyle. Getting something in you, stretching you out…” she tells him, “it’s so good. Every time.” He smirks a little at the confidence boost, and slowly starts to move, and is cut off abruptly as she tells him, “Sometimes I wish I could do that to you.”
Everything else leaves his mind at the thought of it, of Sarah inside him, where no one has ever been, Sarah fucking him, holding him down and making him take it. God- how would it even work? It doesn’t matter, it’s not important. He’s not putting too much stock in the logistics of his girlfriend fucking him through the mattress. Too much to think about at once.
Some previously dormant part of his brain registers he’s fucking her significantly harder than he meant to, used to treating her gently, like a precious thing, but she’s rolling her hips back to meet him as he drives into her, breathing hard, snaking a hand down between them to rub at her clit, so he doesn’t feel quite self conscious enough to stop. He’s never felt this kind of urgency with her before, even the first time, but some instinct is driving him to take it fast and hard and let rational thought back in later. He’s holding her tight to him, slamming into her- and then suddenly he’s coming, hard, and it’s too soon, way too soon, and he blurts “sorry, sorry-” and scrambles down the bed to get his mouth on her, still feeling the aftershocks as she grips his hair hard enough to sting at the roots, frantically sucking on her clit and fucking her with his fingers. This close up, it’s like she’s surrounding him- the smell of her, the taste, her soft thighs bracketing his head- and he luxuriates in it, pressing his face in as far as he can. He eats her out with dogged enthusiasm, still thrumming with restless energy as he tries so hard to make up for embarrassing himself, make it good for her. He can feel her start to lose it after a while, her legs shaking, and redoubles his efforts until he hears her start to make the sweet little high pitched noises he loves, until her whole body goes tense and she clenches down hard around his fingers with one long, low moan. He rests his head against her thigh for a minute while they both catch their breath, until the reality of what’s just happened sinks in.
He feels intensely guilty now, seeing the admittedly light hand shaped bruises he’s left on her hips, but when he dares to glance upwards at her, Sarah looks extraordinarily pleased with herself. She slumps bonelessly onto the pillows, a sheen of sweat covering her body, and watches him awkwardly get up and stumble around the room looking for a washcloth. His knees still feel a little weak.
When he can bear to make eye contact with her again, he looks furtively up and sees her looking straight back. She’s got a smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. He ducks his head again and slinks back into the bed, hiding his burning face in her shoulder. She laughs at him, but not unkindly, and runs her fingers through his hair, gentler than when he had his face buried in her, soothing the ache left behind. “You liked that, then,” she says, her voice a little slurred the way it sometimes is after she’s come, and he mumbles a vague assent into her collarbone. In this position he has a close up view of the marks he left on her, and he runs a hand very gingerly over them. He’s hurt her, this woman he wants nothing more than to love and protect and be gentle with for the rest of his life, because he was too- too fucking violent to hold back. He swallows past the sudden, awful lump in his throat to say, “I’m sorry, Sarah. I never meant-“
“Hey,” she says, petting the short hairs at the back of his head, which makes him feel worse, because why is she being so sweet to him, “it’s okay. You don’t need to apologise.”
“I hurt you,” he says miserably. “I just- I lost control, and I-“ and he has to stop there, because there’s absolutely no way he can say what he’s thinking, which is I roughed you up and then came in two minutes because I was thinking about you fucking me in the ass.
“Kyle, come on, it’s a couple of itty-bitty bruises. Everyone gets a little rough sometimes,” she says, and he’s reminded that she has significantly more experience than him with this sort of thing, and probably knows better than him what’s acceptable and what’s not. “It’s not as if I wasn’t having a good time. It was hot,” she continues, and when he dares to look up at her face again that little smile has more of a wicked look about it. “Got all excited at the thought of me doing you, huh?” she teases, and he feels his face burn again.
“You know… we can always give that a try, if it’s what you want, honey. You want me to finger you a little, is that it?” she asks in a faux-innocent tone, and he has to screw his eyes shut for a second at the wave of heat it sends through him. “Or if you want, if you really, really want it…” she carries on, whispering now, “we can find a store, and I’ll buy a dick, and I’ll fuck you with it,” and at this he reflexively grinds down against her leg and then flinches away in discomfort at the sparks it sends through his oversensitised cock.
“Sarah,” he says, wretched, and she laughs quietly to herself.
“Okay, honey,” she capitulates. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.” She tilts his chin gently upwards so he’s looking her in the eye, and tells him, “we’re going to talk about it later though,” and looks extremely gratified at whatever it is she sees in his face.
Sarah’s true to her word, and they do in fact talk about it later. They talk about a lot of things, actually- the easy availability of sex toys in pre-war times, the logistics of having something up your ass. They talk in depth about the fact that,, in this strange new decade, wanting your girlfriend to bend you over is, if not necessarily common, definitely not the craziest thing you can do. The next motel they stop at happens to be pretty remote and all but unoccupied, which puts them both at ease, and through a series of significant looks and vague hand gestures they come to a wordless understanding that that night is in fact the night.
Sarah jumped in the shower the moment they got there, citing sweat and road dirt, and they’ve just been curled up on the bed together since, enjoying the silent company as her hair dries. He’s starting to get twitchy from the anticipation, though, and he can tell she’s picking up on it, as much as she’s pretending not to. After what feels like an achingly long stretch of time, when she decides he’s suffered enough, she lifts her head up from his shoulder to look at him. She holds his face in her hands, looks him in the eye, and tells him, “I’m gonna get ready now. And I want you to go and take a shower, and get yourself really, really clean for me,” punctuating this last part with one firm kiss dropped on his face between words. He swallows hard with the anticipation of what it is he’s gonna need to be so clean for, and he slopes off to do as he’s told.
When he comes out of the bathroom, hair still wet, the sight of her stops him in his tracks. She looks so, so good. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of looking at her, drinking the sight in like a man dying of thirst. She’s been putting on some muscle with the training she’s been making him make her do. He knows he’s getting a little soft around the middle now that he’s eating real food regularly for the first time in his life. They’re almost starting to look alike, blurring together, a matched set.
The sight of her right now is even more arresting than usual. The money they got from the insurance was pretty good, but it won’t last forever, even with the frugal lifestyle they’ve been living. He can’t bring himself to complain, though, seeing the way the harness hugs her hips, the sharp contrast between the black leather and her soft pale skin.
In that moment, he simply has to bolt across the motel room to hold her so close to him that it’s like they’re one person and kiss her about as deeply as he can manage. He just isn’t able to do anything else. The feeling of their bare chests so close together is so, so good. He can admit he craves it all the time, has entertained idle thoughts of just throwing their clothes away. Pressed up against her like this he can feel the plastic of the strap on she’s wearing, cold against his warm skin, and it sends a shiver through him. Sarah pulls back from him to catch her breath and inclines her head towards their bed. He realises once he’s awkwardly sitting down on it that she already took the opportunity to untie the towel he’d had around his waist. That’s a dirty trick, taking a man’s towel while he’s distracted. He can’t find it in himself to mind too much.
He stalls once he’s actually on the bed, realising he doesn’t know how she wants him positioned. He looks up at her, unsure, and she clearly sees his uncharacteristic hesitancy, reaching out to stroke his face. “It might be easier if you’re on your hands and knees,” she offers, and his face heats at the suggestion. He scrambles gracelessly to get into position, the nerves making him uncoordinated and jittery. She strokes a hand over the knotted scars on his back, which relaxes him somewhat less than it usually does.
On his hands and knees like this, unable to see behind himself, he feels… exposed. Vulnerable. This must be how she feels, he thinks. Every time. He feels her settle on the bed behind him, hears the snap of a glove from their well-stocked first aid kit, and tries to regulate his breathing. At the first tentative brush of her fingers over his hole he reflexively flinches away, and she moves her hand to rest on his ass, soothing him like a spooked animal. The lube on her fingers is cold, but that’s not the issue, not when his brain is rattling around in his head like this.
“You okay?” she asks, all soft concern. It’s pretty nice to hear, actually. Makes him feel loved.
“Can you- talk to me,” he grits out. “Distract me. I’m- I feel-” and yet again he completely fails to express himself, but it doesn’t matter because Sarah understands, Sarah always knows exactly what he needs.
“I’ve never done this before, you know,” she confesses, and maybe it should make him more nervous to know neither of them know what they’re doing here, but it doesn’t. He finds he likes that thought. He couldn’t be her first like she was his, knows there were others before him, and that’s fine, but this is something no one else has ever given her. This is something he can give her.
She’s taken the opportunity of his momentary distraction to return her attentions to his ass, getting him more accustomed to her touching him there.
“Why not?” he asks her, shuddering at the sensation of her sliding a well-lubed finger over his hole.
“Never had the opportunity. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it,” she tells him. “The type of guys I was dating… I don’t know how well they’d have responded to a girl asking to put something up their ass. Too much to prove, you know. But you… big, strong soldier… you’ll bend over for me,” and at that she pushes one finger into him up to the knuckle, and the combination of what he’s hearing and what he’s feeling forces a harsh, broken groan out of him.
It feels strange in him, a foreign object, and he can feel his muscles becoming increasingly tense. Sarah doesn’t push him, waiting a minute to let him adjust to the sensation and slipping her free hand around him to gently play with the sensitive head of his cock. “You gotta relax, honey. Let me in,” she says, and somehow, unbelievably, he starts to. She pumps her finger shallowly back and forth, and he realises after a minute he can feel her knuckles pressed up against his ass. “Hey, look at you. Taking it like a champ,” she tells him, and he feels his face flush at the praise. “How’s that feel?”
“Weird. I’m not sure. There’s something up my ass.”
“You’ve never done this before? To yourself?”
“There’s a lot I haven’t done,” he says, dodging the question slightly, but they both understand what he means.
“That’s pretty hot,” Sarah says thoughtfully. “Unexplored territory.”
The distraction of the conversation’s helped him unclench some, and she’s able to move more freely in him. One finger is feeling pretty comfortable now. It’s not necessarily good, not yet, but he can see how it might be.
“You think you can take another one?” she asks, and he quickly nods before he can think about it too much.
She pulls her hand back, and gradually works in another finger alongside the first. He closes his eyes and breathes through the discomfort. She’s got one hand on his ass, spreading his cheeks open for better access, and this feels like something he should find… degrading, or violating, or any number of negative things. Maybe he would, if it was anyone else doing it to him. But this is Sarah, and if he can trust her to save his life, he can definitely trust her to spread his ass out.
The second finger is moving in him now, and that’s… hmm. That’s something. The drag of her fingers inside his hole, stretching him out, is sending some kind of spark through his system. He notices that he can hear someone breathing heavily, and then realises it’s him. She scissors her fingers experimentally, and he whines, there’s no other word for it.
This is good now, unmistakeably good. She’s settling into a rhythm and the constant friction, the push and pull of it, is sending a delicious warmth through him. After a minute, when she asks, “three?” he doesn’t hesitate before blurting out a yes.
The difference between two and three fingers feels less extreme than the jump from one to two. He’s relaxed now, loosening up and wet where she’s worked the lube into him. The third finger makes him draw in a sharp breath, but this time it’s not because it hurts, it just feels so good. She’s moving at a steady pace, stretching her fingers apart inside him, and he feels warm all over, sweat springing up in the hollows behind his knees.
Now that she’s apparently reached her goal of getting three fingers in him, Sarah seems to be looking for something, twisting her wrist and adjusting the angle. He’s about to ask what it is she’s digging around to find in there, when she grazes the tips of her fingers over it, startling him into letting out an incredibly undignified sort of yelp. There’s a long moment of silence in the room as he blankly grapples with the embarrassment, before it breaks as Sarah snorts out a laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” she manages to get out between giggles. “I’ve just- never heard anyone make that noise before,” and then he’s laughing too, almost relieved now that the tension’s broken, because it was a pretty funny noise. Their laughter dies down, but the mood in the room seems lighter now. He twists his neck around to look at her face, and she gives him a big beautiful smile. He grins back at her.
“Do you want me to try that again?” she says, and there’s an element of challenge in the way she says it, but the look on her face is pretty serious, like she’s trying to reassure him he can still back out if he wants. He doesn’t want, though.
“Yeah, okay. Round two, come on. I wasn’t expecting it last time.”
She starts to move her fingers again, and now she knows where to aim. She nudges that weird spot inside him again, and he feels a thin groan edge its way out of the back of his throat. It’s electric, whatever this bunch of nerve endings is. The pressure of her fingers stretching him out, the hand that’s still wrapped round his cock, it all fades into background noise as she massages the tip of one finger around it, like all the feeling in his body is concentrated there. He realises he hasn’t taken a breath for a while, and abruptly gasps in as much air as he can. She’s unrelenting now, almost drumming her fingertips onto that sensitive spot, and he can’t catch his breath, can’t get his mind to focus on anything else. His arms feel weak where he’s still holding himself up on all fours. It’s too much, and he’s gonna go off soon if he’s not careful, so with great concentration and willpower he wiggles one foot around until it comes into contact with her leg, nudging at it to get her attention.
“Hey, Sarah. You wanna… you wanna do me now?” he asks, and when he cranes his neck back to look, her answering smile is painfully bright. His heart twists a little in his chest. She eases her fingers out of him gently, and he finds he hates the feeling it leaves behind. His hole feels so empty now, spread open and wet, and the urge to get something back in it surprises him with its intensity. Sarah’s weight on the bed shifts behind him, and before she can get herself into position he tells her, “wait, wait, wait.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, and feeling stupid, he mumbles, “I want to see your face.”
She drops a little kiss on his back for that, and shoves gently at his hip to get him to roll over. He crashes inelegantly onto his back, smiling stupidly up at her where she’s braced above him. It’s much better like this, when he can see her. He never really wants to look at anything else. She beams down at him, that smile he loves so fucking much, and he just can’t do anything but wrap one arm around her torso and drag her down to kiss him. When he’s this keyed up, the feeling of her naked skin against his is intoxicating, her nipples dragging against his chest sending sparks through him. He runs one hand down her back, which stops abruptly as it comes into contact with the strap of the harness he’d forgotten she was wearing. He runs his fingertips along it, enjoying the contrast between soft skin and firm leather.
He pulls back, as much as it pains him to do it, and tells her, “come on. Before I wimp out.” She drops one last kiss on his lips before sitting up to manhandle him around.
She pulls his legs up to bend at the knees, and he instinctively opens them so she can slot her body neatly into the space he’s created for her. He’s a big fan of this role reversal where he’s the one who gets to cling onto her for once. Sarah seems to like it too, her cheeks flushed and her pupils huge.
She reaches down to reposition the- oh my god, the fake cock, that’s what’s going into me. He hears the crack of the lid on their bottle of lube, and the slick noises of her getting it wet for him. He feels cold plastic nudge at his hole and instinctively tenses up. Sarah rubs her thumb gently over his rim, and says, “come on, baby. Let me in,” and he tries his absolute hardest to do what he’s told.
It’s definitely bigger than her fingers, that’s for damn sure. There’s no fucking way that’s gonna fit, he thinks, and is surprised to realise that somehow it’s starting to. She eases it gently into him, inch by inch, and he can feel it stretching him apart, braces himself against the discomfort. It’s good, though, once that initial stretch is over and he can feel her hips flush against his ass. He expected it to feel wrong, like all his guts were getting pushed out of the way, but now that it’s happening it’s a lot more natural than he expected, like the whole time leading up to this his hole was just waiting for her to fill it. Maybe it was. He was waiting for her for years, after all, so why should his body be any different? This ridiculous mental tangent is interrupted by Sarah pulling back slightly and pushing in again. It’s easier on every stroke, his hole stretching out to accommodate her, and he starts to really relax into it, rolling his hips up to meet her.
It’s definitely different to having Sarah ride him, his legs folded up and her body weight resting on him. Different in a good way, though. She’s leaning more heavily on him now, bending his legs back further towards his chest, and he’s getting a weird sense of satisfaction out of the burn in his hips. He figures the farther up his legs are bent, the deeper she’s getting in him, and that’s worth any ache. He knows there must be space between them, somewhere, but he doesn't feel any right now, folded together as they are.
She goes to jerk him off, but the angle’s all wrong, and she makes a quiet noise of frustration. He figures he can do at least some of the work round here, so he knocks her hand gently aside and reaches down to pick up some of the excess lube that’s leaking out of him. The combination of a dick in his ass and his hand on his cock turns out to be significantly greater than the sum of its parts, and very quickly he’s moved from slow strokes to stripping his cock furiously. Sarah speeds up to match his pace, and he’d thought before that having sex with her was the best he could feel, but it wasn’t like this, this much stimulation, all at once. She’s letting out sharp little gasps from above him that suggest she’s being affected by it too, whether out of sympathy or the exertion.
She starts to vary the angle on a few strokes, and he has a moment of wide-eyed anticipation as she realises what she’s trying to do, and then she hits that spot inside him and he promptly loses his mind. She’s grazing over it on every stroke now, and between that and the fucking itself and the hand he’s still got furiously flying over his cock it’s too much, way too fucking much. His eyes are watering. It’s too good, he can’t hold back, and the loudest noise he’s maybe ever made rips its way out from behind gritted teeth, and he clenches down and comes harder than he ever has before. His mind is completely blank, and he registers only in some abstract sense that he can still feel her moving in him, that he’s spurting thick ropes of cum all over himself, that one hits the bottom of his chin.
In the immediate aftermath all he can do is stare at the ceiling and try in vain to get his breath back. He’s completely limp, couldn’t summon the will to move a muscle if he wanted to, and every pore on his body seems to have each pushed out one bead of sweat. He finally makes eye contact with Sarah, and manages to muster up the energy to flash her a weary but very wide grin.
His ragged gasps are cut off by a wince as she eases out of him. He feels sort of empty again, like something in him’s been displaced, but that urgency to be filled up from before is absent this time. He feels gorged, sated.
Sarah yanks at the buckles on the side of the harness and drops it to the floor with a clatter. She looks pretty keyed up herself, pupils blown huge, and he’s abruptly reminded that this whole thing has been focused on him. He’s been neglecting his duties for far too long. “Come here,” he says, pulling her further up his body. “Can’t move. But I’ll do you right.” He settles her over his face, finding the scar on her thigh as he does and pressing his thumb gently into it. They’ve both got battle scars now. Both soldiers, together.
She lets out a soft sigh as he nuzzles his face into her, her head tipping forward like she just can’t manage to keep herself upright. He feels completely boneless, like he’s floating on air, all but entirely drained of energy. He still manages to find some last reserve for this, though. After Sarah’s done so much for him, it’s the least he can do. Her long hair’s hanging down, forming a curtain around her face, but from this angle he can still look her in the eyes, and he’s determined to keep that eye contact going as long as he can.
She’s clearly been worked up for a while now, hips twitching and breath catching at the slightest touch, but he’s not in the mood to finish her off hard and fast. He luxuriates in the taste of her, holding her down closer to him so he can get his tongue farther inside her. With her resting her weight on her knees, he has just enough room to breathe. It’s all he needs, given that breathing is currently about third on his list of priorities. She was already wet when he started, but now she’s soaking his face, which is, as always, an incredibly satisfying feeling. He manages to summon the strength in his arms to lift them up and play with her tits. Admittedly this is probably doing more for him than for her, but she’s certainly not complaining about it, especially when he pinches her nipples between thumb and forefinger. He knows damn well she likes that, and is gratified but not surprised when she starts to grind down onto him. It’s a little hard for him to breathe now, but that’s okay, he’d make bigger sacrifices to have this. He knows it won’t take long after that, and is proven right as he hears the choked-off gasps she’s been letting out gradually transition into high pitched little whimpers. He takes that as his cue to move his attention to her clit, flicking his tongue against it as fast as he can manage. He’s still trying as hard as he can to keep up the eye contact with her, and from what he can see of her face where it isn’t covered by her hair she looks frantic, desperate to come. He can feel her legs shaking where they’re pressed against the sides of his head. She speeds up, and he matches her, ignoring the increasing ache in his jaw. He feels her whole body start to shake above him, and slips a couple of fingers into her at the last minute to give her something to clench down on, as she lets out a noise from the back of her throat that sounds almost pained in its intensity.
They both take a long moment after that to get their breath back, Kyle basking in the satisfaction of a job extremely well done. Sarah sits back on her heels and he immediately misses her, even as he appreciates having the ability to breathe restored to him. Eventually, she gathers the energy to lift herself up and collapse gracelessly next to him. He gathers up all the energy he has left to turn his head and look at her. She looks a mess, drenched with sweat and god knows what else, visibly well fucked, and he can’t imagine he looks any different. It’s glorious. She looks back at him with a tired but extremely satisfied smile, and reaches down for his hand, twining their fingers together. At some point they’ll have to get up, probably shower again, sleep and eat and everything else, but right now this moment can stretch on as long as they need it to.
They leave the motel the next day, eager to get back on the road. Neither of them are too sure what the plan is next. Kyle throws their shit in the back of the truck as Sarah waits in the driver’s seat. He squirms a little when he sits down, and he knows she notices, because her answering smile is the most wicked he’s ever seen it.