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Nate had had enough of her bullshit. Months of doing everything for these damn settlers, of building fucking beds and planting crops and digging wells, of running after every fucking settlement with a pest problem, and this is what he got for it?
“Help out or get lost.” Marcy’s biting tone grated on his nerves the way it had for months, the same insults every day.
Nate wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her with him, into his house. She pulled, but didn’t give much of a fight. A fucking first for her.
Once inside, he released her.
Marcy pulled back, squaring her shoulders. “Just what do you think you’re doing? You might be the General of the Minutemen, but you don’t get to haul me around.”
Nate jammed one finger into the center of her chest. “Let’s get something fucking straight, sweetheart. I have busted my ass for you people and you’ve done nothing but bitch at me.”
“How dare-“
“-quiet. You need to shut up and listen. You seem to think you’re special. Guess what? People lose shit all the time. You aren’t alone in that, and I’m sick to fucking death of watching you walk around, snapping at people, treating us like shit.”
Marcy walked forward and slapped Nate across the face. He could have avoided it, could have caught her wrist, done any number of things to defuse the situation.
Instead, he let her palm connect with a loud crack in the room.
They stood there, staring at each other, all the insults and barbs between them.
The next thing Nate knew, Marcy had thrown her arms around him and yanked him into a kiss.
Well. . . that wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected Marcy to spit and hiss; he’d sit her ass down and explain that he knew how it fucking felt to lose a kid, but she needed to keep going and stop shoving people away. He thought she’d scream and maybe throw a couple punches, but she’d figure this shit out.
He hadn’t expected her to kiss him, or to be grinding against him like a cat in heat. Then again, Nate had drowned his sorrow in enough men and women since waking up, he couldn’t really blame her. Something about that desperation had him hardening, too. He knew pain, lived with pain, and there was this sick part of him that got off on that pain.
Nate used a grip on her thighs to hoist her up, then slammed her back against the wall, harder than he needed to, but he was still pissed.
She gasped, and he swallowed the sound before grinding himself against her.
Marcy yanked at the zipper of his vaultsuit, though when she got it down to where her legs wrapped around his hips, she couldn’t get it any further.
Nate released her thighs, hands yanking at her shirt. Buttons popped off as it opened, and she pulled her hands from him long enough to remove her arms from the sleeves.
Her nails scratched down his sides as she pulled his vault suit off, working it and his underwear over his hips, then down his thighs. When she had it around his ankles, stuck since his boots were still on, she drug her tongue up his cock.
Nate wrapped his hand into her hair and pulled her forward, pressing his cock into her mouth. “Well look at that, finally something that shuts you up.”
Her gaze lifted to his, eyes narrowed to slits as she glared. She used her teeth to rake across his cock, a warning but a fucking gift compared to what she could have done with those teeth.
Nate used the grip on her hair to pull her off of him. He lifted his foot, yanking his boots off, then the vaultsuit. “Why don’t you get your ass in the bedroom unless you plan on having me fuck you out here.”
She stood but didn’t move, gaze darting to the hallway.
Right. She didn’t want to go the bed. She was fucking him behind her husband’s back to burn off some anger, he could understand that.
“You can still leave.”
Marcy undid her pants, then pulled them off, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. “Why don’t you shut up and do what we both know we’re going to do.”
Nate didn’t require a fucking engraved invitation. He walked over, pushing her back until she laid across the table. He wrapped his fingers in the waist of her panties and removed them.
She was wet. The light from his pipboy showed it, and when he drug his fingers up her slit, it coated his fingers. She squirmed at the touch, so he set one hand down on the center of her chest to keep her still.
Nate gripped his cock, lined himself up, and sunk in deep.
Marcy gasped, nailed clawing into the table beneath her, but her hips lifted like she needed more.
So he gave her more. He leaned over her body, fucking her, trying to release not only his frustration with her, with the whole fucking settlement, but release her anger as well.
“What would Jun think about this?” Nate took one of her thighs and lifted it to sink deeper into her heat.
“Nothing. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t touch me, too busy thinking about himself to worry about me.” Her back arched up, hips lifting in time with his.
“And you? You’re any better? You prowl around snapping at people, shoving away anyone who wants to help you.”
She put a hand on his forearm, digging her nails into him. “I don’t need help.”
“Everyone needs help, Marcy.” He thrust in hard, savoring her hiss. “Even you. So, you fuck everyone else behind Jun’s back, too?”
This time Marcy put a hand behind his neck and used the leverage to lean up and bite down hard on his lip, hard enough blood coated his tongue when she pulled back. A smudge of blood remained on her own lip. “No. I’ve never done this.”
“So I’m just special?”
“No. You’re just the only one who pissed me off enough to forget everything else.”
Nate groaned as she tightened around him, but he knew she wasn’t about to get off. Nah, the woman wasn’t even close to coming. But then again, the fucking wasn’t about getting off for either of ‘em. It was about making a damned point to her, and if that point required his dick, why not?
As much as Marcy angered him, he saw himself in her. And not just as a pun.
He could have turned into her or Jun. Just crawled himself into a fucking hole after losing Nora and Shaun, but he didn’t. He kept going, struggling, making a life for himself.
Marcy needed to do that and he was sick of seeing her fuck it up.
He shoved in again, chasing his own release. “You can’t just crawl under a fucking rock, you know?”
“Do I look like I want to chit-chat?”
“You look like you need someone to fuck some sense into you. How am I doing?”
She dropped her head back, against the table with a loud thump. “Get to it, would you?”
His hand cranked down on her thigh as he sped his thrusts. So fucking close.
Just before he came, he pulled out and released her thigh, grabbing her underwear from the table, coming into them. Seemed wrong to come inside Marcy, especially with whatever hate fucking they were doing. He’d gotten his shit snipped before the bombs fell, so he was shooting blanks, but still.
Marcy pulled her thighs together, knees striking Nate’s side, gaze away. “Now that we got that out of the way, you want to let me up?”
“Not yet. Maybe you’ll listen to me now?”
“What gave you the idea we’re friends?”
Nate slid a hand behind her neck, a thumb on her jaw to force her to look him in the eyes. “You can’t die just because your son did.”
“What do you know about it?”
“My wife was shot right in front of me and my son stolen, so yeah, I know a little bit about losing shit. I lost everything, but I didn’t just give up.”
She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t let her go. “You have something to do. I don’t have anything. A husband who doesn’t want to do anything but cry, that’s it. I don’t have anything else.”
“You need something else? In case you haven’t fucking realized it, you have friends, including me. Tell me what you want and we’ll figure it out. You want to become a trader? A minutemen? A fucking traveling mime? Just stop being such an asshole and figure it out.”
“I want to do something important. I want to do something that matters. I want to help people.”
“Well, with your attitude, I’m not how much helping you could do.”
She jerked her face away, so he captured her chin in his hand and made her look at him again.
“I have an idea. Got a friend who works with a group. They help synths, keeping ‘em safe, giving ‘em new lives. Seems like something that might be up your alley.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I told you, you have friends. Even if you hiss and scratch, you have friends. We’re all in this shitty world together, so we’ve got to stick together if we want to live through it. Why don’t you go talk this out with Jun, huh?” His gaze went down, realizing her shirt wasn’t about to survive. “Well, after I give you a new shirt, I guess.”
They both dressed in silence until she stopped by the front door. “Thank you. I know this was a one-time thing, but I needed it. You could have kicked me out at any time and no one would have blamed you. I’ve never had anyone care about me, take care of me. I was always the one in charge in our family, and I’ve been trying to hold Jun together since our son died. So, thank you.”
Nate sighed at the sadness in her voice. He understood that.
He grabbed her and pulled her against him, taking her lips in a gentle kiss. This lacked the edge and the anger of their earlier fucking. This was him telling her it was okay, that he wasn’t mad, that things would work out. They always worked out in the end, somehow.
When he broke the kiss, her fingers had dug into his vaultsuit. One more breath, and she let him go, stepping backward. “Goodnight, Nate.”
He smiled at how she said his name, the first time she’d ever said it. Who knew you just had to fuck someone and they’d soften a bit. “Goodnight, Marcy.”
She walked out and he reached for a cigarette, her footsteps like song notes as she walked down the sidewalk. Maybe he was wrong, and maybe she was wrong. They’d fucked behind her husband back, but hell, they’d both needed it. They’d needed a moment to remind themselves that there was still good shit in the world, that they still had things to claw for, to want, to need.
Nate lit his cigarette before tossing her ruined underwear into the trash.
What a fucking world, just filled with broken people.