Work Text:
Joshua Graham was sitting at his desk in Angel Cave, doing his usual work of inspecting and cleaning the firearms for the Dead Horses. He expertly and seamlessly removed the magazine from the grip, flipped it in his hand and eyed down the barrel, then flipped it back and reloaded it like clockwork. He found this whole process quite soothing, the soft clicks and slide of the metal, the weight of it in his hand, and the rhythmic dance of his fingers that felt like prayer. Abruptly, his trance was broken by the sound of quiet shuffling from under the table. Leaning back in his chair, he peered towards his feet, meeting the wide, doe-like eyes of the Courier.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Joshua raised an eyebrow behind his bandages.
“Nothin’...” the man said with a playful lilt, flashing him a grin.
Joshua played along, “Well, I guess I have nothing to worry about then,” he shrugged. Calloused hands slid up his inner thighs and sent a jolt of electricity up his spine, he let out an imperceptible breath, and continued his work above the table as strong fingers massaged the meat of his legs. Soft cheeks and lips rubbed against the denim on his thighs and placed tender kisses against them, each one making Joshua twitch. Eager fingers inched closer to the buckle of Joshua’s snakeskin belt and began pulling at the metal, and a warm tongue pressed heavily against the crotch of his jeans. His breath hitched and he heard a soft hum from below. Quickly, his belt and fly were undone in a swift motion and all that was left between him and the Courier was a thin layer of bandages. Gentle lips pressed against the growing tent of the fabric, and Joshua had long since stopped focusing on the gun in front of him.
“This is certainly not nothing, Courier.” Joshua huffed and looked down at the man again, this time met with a flushed, desperate face, eyes half-lidded.
“Please…Joshua,” he panted, “I want it.”
Joshua’s heart fluttered and he caved in—not that he really was resisting in the first place. He reached a hand down and maneuvered the bandages out of the way to reveal his half-hard cock. The Courier let out a noise of satisfaction and licked a long stripe on the underside from the base to the tip, reveling in the scarred texture. Focusing on the head, the man left sweet kitten licks against it until it was at full mast. Joshua brought a bandaged hand to the man’s cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb, basking in the man’s beauty and savoring his pleasant sounds. Finally, the Courier locked eyes with him and enveloped his entire length in his warm mouth.
The sound of his own ragged moan ripped Joshua from his dream; his eyes flew open and he shot up in surprise, heart pounding out of his chest. He whipped his head around and felt the furs next to him, his stomach churned with longing as his fingers clasped around cold nothingness. Sighing wistfully, Joshua leaned forward and brought his attention to the pertinent issue straining between his legs.
Sexual pleasure was never something Joshua had truly allowed himself to indulge in, as his faith forbade it outside of marriage. However, he had wavered in his time in the Legion with the fleeting moments he’d shared with Edward. His skin crawled remembering how he had committed mortal sin in the name of that man; defied his God, tainted his soul irreparably, all for nothing. And all he had to show for his thirty years of effort and sacrifice was charred skin, blood-soaked memories, and sleepless nights. Joshua shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the thoughts, he shifted his mind to the subject of his dream, the man that had unwittingly sunk his claws deep into his subconscious.
He couldn’t. Well, he could. No, no, he shouldn’t. Joshua groaned and pressed his palm against the tent in his jeans. A shiver of pleasure ran through his body, clouding his brain. He really shouldn’t, not because of the Courier, he couldn’t do that to him. In the time that the man had spent in Zion, he and Joshua grew close, spending some quiet nights together by campfire, occasionally letting him take refuge in his cave, but nothing more. Although he soon came to learn that the Courier had a habit of hugging whatever was closest to him in his sleep, Joshua did not sleep a wink that night. When he was around the man, he sometimes let his mind wander much too far, feeling his chest squeeze under the weight of guilt every time. He remembered the brief, casual touches the Courier gave him that sent him reeling, the way the man’s dark eyes seemed to pry his soul right out of his chest, and—Christ, the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin as he peeled off his body armor. Joshua gritted his teeth, the heat in his cheeks almost outweighed the tightness in his ribs.
Relieving himself wasn’t something Joshua was particularly keen to do, mostly due to the burns. Although, it wasn’t until recently that his skin had healed enough around his pelvis that it wasn’t completely excruciating to move his hips and legs, but even so, he hadn’t considered pleasuring himself as he didn’t often feel the need to, at least, not until he met the Courier. When the man had first stepped into his cave, fresh from his miraculously close encounter with the White Legs, he was so willing to help Joshua and the Dead Horses that it was impressive, almost off-putting. Joshua didn’t quite trust the man, no one was that altruistic without some ulterior motives. However, upon getting to know him, his adventures throughout the Mojave, and seeing the way he interacted with the tribes in Zion—going above and beyond to help them, Joshua realized that the man truly was just that selfless. He was a gift from God, and after the final battle against Salt-Upon-Wounds where he’d stopped Joshua from giving into his most heinous, violent desires, he had practically become his patron saint. In the weeks and months that followed, the Courier had completely invaded his every waking thought, and now, his sleeping ones as well.
Joshua laid back down against the fur, warmth pillowing against his body. He stared up at the stone cavern ceiling and—against his better judgement—let his mind wander. Visions from his dream flashed behind his eyelids and the ache between his legs was becoming unbearable. Scarred fingertips trailed downwards and began to trepidatiously unravel the bandages around his hips; he sighed at the pressure release, his length now free from its binds. Joshua sucked through his teeth as the cool, cave air hit his skin, a warm hand quickly enveloped him and dragged along his shaft. A rough thumb slid against the tip and helped spread the building precum down the length, pulling a sharp breath from the man. Half of his brain was screaming at him to stop while the other half conjured up images of the Courier, down on his knees, pretty eyes gazing up at him expectantly, and mouth begging for a taste of him. Joshua groaned and covered his face with his free hand, hiding from no one, certainly not God. He remembered the dream-feeling of the man’s warm, wet tongue against him, he wondered how well he would do with the real thing. Would he be good at it? Expertly taking Joshua into his throat and working his tongue along him, skills honed from his endeavors in the wasteland. Perhaps he’d be new to it. Joshua would take the reins and guide him through it, teaching the man exactly how to please him, whispering sweet praises to him from above. Either option sent hot sparks of arousal through his abdomen, his head spinning with ideas.
“Fuck…” Joshua shakily moaned and bit his lip. With the sound of soft whines and wet drags of his hand echoing through the cavern, he wondered further. Would the Courier want him to be gentle? He could certainly give it to him sweetly, placing soft kisses all over his body and slowly pressing into him, letting him adjust, and only going further until the man begged him for more. The thought of the Courier’s voice saying such lewd things made Joshua twitch in his own hand. And God, those eyes. He’d look up at him so sweetly, he’d listen so well, obey him perfectly.
Joshua’s mind wandered further, travelling to deeper, darker depths that were long hidden. A selfish, cruel part of Joshua wanted to be rough with him. He couldn’t help but imagine fucking the man’s throat until tears ran down his cheeks, pulling off of his cock with sloppy strings of saliva still connecting them; the man reduced to a drooling, coughing mess. He wanted to turn him over onto all fours and use him how he wanted, until the only noises he could muster was incoherent babbling. Joshua wanted to manhandle him, wrap his bandaged arms around the man’s chest, holding up his worn-out body, and bite into him—leaving marks that would litter his skin for days, reminding him who he belonged to.
A knife of shame pierced into his chest, twisting and tearing through his heart. How dare he think such things about a man who had done so much for him and shown him nothing but kindness. How dare he sully God’s gift with his lecherous desires? How dare he think about such sinful things at all? But Joshua is only a man, a man of flesh and blood and feeble mind. He screwed his eyes shut and the Courier’s face filled his vision, euphoric and ruined, blushing and tear-streaked, begging him for more. The white-hot heat that had been building in his groin reached a tipping point. Joshua clenched his jaw and gripped the fur beneath him as waves of pleasure crashed over him, bucking his hips into his fist as sticky heat spilled into his hand. A deep groan ripped from his lungs and his mind filled with beautiful images and sounds of the Courier’s writhing body squeezing around him and moaning.
Eventually, Joshua regained his vision and the afterglow quickly subsided. He sat up and stared at his scarred hand in his lap, streaked with ropes white liquid that intertwined his fingers and pooled in his palm. Evidence of his sin. His skin crawled and his chest tightened, suddenly wracked with agonizing guilt. He didn’t deserve the man, not after all he’d done. Joshua looked downwards from his hand and saw specks of blood and ooze from weeping blisters that had begun to seep through the pure, white fabric wrapped around his arms. The cracking, peeling burns that spattered his body stung and itched as a cruel reminder of his past, the man he once was, the man he still is.
Joshua grabbed a nearby water bottle and poured it over his hand in a fruitless attempt to cleanse himself; liquid rinsed his limb and spilled onto the rocky floor below. He laid back down onto the furs and didn’t dare to close his eyes.