Butch x F!/LW

Fallout 3, Butch, Dogmeat, etc belong to Bethesda. Anya is my own creation

She went by many names, Lone Wanderer, Princess of the Wasteland, Bitch Who Ruined Our Lives. But she preferred her given name, her birth name, Anya. Granted, she didn't mind Lone Wanderer all that much because that was what she was after all. The only issue is that she didn't choose to be alone. Not initially, but her quests had proven too heinous to keep companions around, all except the dog she found outside the scrap yard. He sat next to her now in the Muddy Rudder, staring up at her with endlessly black eyes. His breed was unknown to her, since she never knew dogs had existed, but he was a beautiful chocolate brown color and had flopped over ears. His frame was lithe and sturdy, muscles well toned. She had almost shot the poor beast when she first saw him bounding towards her with Raiders at his heels. If dogs had heels. It turned out that he was running away from the Raiders, and if she hadn't found them to be more threatening, he wouldn't be her companion today. The crudely made bandage was still wrapped around his foreleg, from when he charged the Raiders, and Anya had to chastise him every time he tried to rip the offending fabric off. She made a mental note to change it whenever she came across some extra fabric…or extra caps.

She dug through the pockets of her armoring, looking for some caps to pay for another drink, but found none. Great, how else was she supposed to drink her sorrows away? Should she explain to the bartender that her father had just practically committed suicide so the Enclave couldn't get his life's work? She sighed and screeched her bar stool back when another drink was thrust in front of her. She blinked at it before looking up to the owner of the hand still holding it.

"You look like you need it," the woman said. Anya took the tankard and sipped at the ale. It had a nice taste, but not nearly enough alcohol, but she wasn't complaining. It gave her mind something to focus on. The woman watched Anya expectantly while wiping the countertop with a dirty rag.

"Thank you, Miss Belle," Anya said, taking another swig of the sharply sweet ale. Belle, the bar maiden, shrugged.

"Don't thank me, the gentleman in the back bought it for you," she said, walking back to the kitchen window to deliver the order that just finished. Anya stared for a second, processing what she had said before slowly turning to see who this person was. Steel flagon in hand, she completed her slow dramatic turn and nearly dropped the stein.

"You're not lookin' so hot, Bambi," the familiar voice said.

"Butch. How many times will I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Anya said, adding a bit of venom in her voice. He was the last person she expected to see, and the last person she wanted to see. Their love/hate relationship went all the way back into their childhood, and some of the things he had said and done to her were not easily forgotten….or forgiven.

"Infinity plus one, sweet cheeks," he said, plastering a cocky smile on his face. Anya groan and turned back, no longer desiring the drink he had bought her.

"What're you doing here anyway," she said quietly, not expecting him to hear. She jumped as his melodious voice sounded right next to her.

"Well, after you blew up the vault's reactor, I explored the new world. Amata went batshit crazy that you killed her father and destroyed her home. She's out here too, you know, looking for a place in the world like the rest of us," he said. His words stung, but Anya didn't want to give him that pleasure ever again.

"How did you find me," she said, clunking her forehead down onto the bar counter.

"Well, I was wandering the wasted, learning how to do trading from some caravan when I found this place. I thought it was pretty cool and stayed for a while. I was just here havin' lunch when lo and behold, my savior walks in," he said, slight sarcasm in his voice. She glared at him from under her silvery bangs and the motion made his grin even wider. He just loved to torture her, didn't he?

"Well, too bad for you, your 'savior' has some other people to save. Bye, Butch. Don't follow me, it's too dangerous for you," she said, sliding her stool all the way back and standing to leave. He caught her wrist and she wrenched it from his grip on reflex, combat knife out and rose within seconds. She stopped herself before she planted it into his face and dropped her arm limply to her side, gripping the knife tightly. "Sorry," she muttered at his astonished expression.

"Bambi's not so fragile anymore, now, is she?" Butch said that stupid smirk back on his face. It took all of Anya's self control to not raise her knife at him again. Dogmeat growled softly in response to her anger and stood between her and Butch.

"The hell is this thing?" He said, inspecting the beast.

"It's a dog, Butch, and I'd suggest you leave him be. Those teeth are sharper than they look, and he's faster than you'll ever be," Anya said, voice a dangerous tone. Butch raised his hands, palms facing her in a submissive manner.

"I don't mean no harm, just curious is all," he said. Anya turned to leave, this time he let her.

Later that night, Anya found herself once more camped out in the wilderness. She lay on her back, staring up at the sky. The stars were unbelievably visible, and she marveled at them. She had never seen anything like it until a few years ago when she first emerged from that blasted vault. She inhaled the crisp, cool air and coughed at the radiation that still polluted the air. She sat up and prepared her camp, rolling out her battered bed roll and arranging her thin blankets atop it. Once finished with that task, she gathered materials to make a fire and had mole rat meat roasting in no time. She tore off large strips of meat and gave them to her companion, and watched as he took them delicately between his paws and tore off smaller bits to eat.

"Such manners for a mongrel," she said affectionately. She scratched him behind his big floppy ears and leaned back with her own meal. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she knew the wastes were unforgiving on the hungry. She forced the greasy meal down and tossed the remains into the decaying bushes just outside of camp.

Dogmeat growled, and seconds after, a branch snapped somewhere off to the left. Anya drew out the combat knife hidden in her boot and stood at the ready. She was just about to pounce on the intruder when an all too familiar voice filled the night air with a string of curses.

"Butch, what the hell are you doing out here?" Anya said, replacing the knife back in its sheath. She stood facing him, with her arms crossed across her chest. He stepped out from behind some dying trees, holding his left arm away from the fire light at an awkward angle.

"Ok, ya caught me. I was following you, I wanted to go on my own little adventure and see how long I could track you without you noticing. I forgot to include that mutt over there in the equation though," he said, stopping his progress a few feet in front of her. Anya's reprimand was stopped short by the blood dripping down over his gloved hand.

"What'd you manage to do this time?" She grumbled.

"Nah, this is nothing, just got into a scuffle with a Raider that surprised me," He said, putting on a show of toughness. Anya sighed and reached for his arm, shooting him a glare when a cocky grin spread across his face, the grin that says 'You can't resist the Butch-man'. She removed his hand from his shoulder and sucked in a breath. His tunnel snake jacket was in shreds, along with his vault uniform. She directed him to sit by the fire so she could have more light to see by, and saw that it was worse than he had let on.

"A single Raider did this? Jesus, what kind of weapon did he have?" She mumbled to herself.

"A combat shotgun." Anya stared, waiting for him to say that he was joking. When he looked away, she knew he wasn't.

"You're lucky his aim was horrible, or it could've killed you. You're also lucky that I managed to swipe some surgical supplied from Rivet City," she said, bending low over his arm. She peeled back bits of his shredded jacket and felt him flinch.

"Sorry," she muttered, much in the same manner as before. "I'm going to need to clean it, but doing so by moonlight is difficult," she said, figuring out which eddy of purified water was closest. She drug him to his feet and led him to the river that lay just south of her camp, grabbing her surgical kit from her bag along the way. She told Dogmeat to stay and watch over camp and nearly had her heart broken by the dejected look he gave her. She had to give Butch credit, though. He didn't complain all the way to the river like she thought he would. Anya directed him to sit on a large boulder next to the river as she went to wet several cloths. He watched her quietly, and several times she caught him eyeing her body. She blushed under his scrutiny, thankful for the darkness that surrounded them.

"So what now?" He asked, his voice strained.

"The jacket and jumpsuit top have to come off," she said, laying out forceps and a scalpel. She didn't think the scalpel would be needed, but it was always a good idea to have just in case. He grunted his consent and proceeded to peel the shredded fabric from his flesh. She could see that his jaw was clenched and could say that she honestly felt bad for him. She had been shot many times, but never by buckshot from a shotgun. It always did the most damage, and most people never survived the wounds. He was indeed lucky that he didn't get a chest full of lead and that it barely nicked his side and arm.

She turned to him when he was done and couldn't help but admire his well sculpted bronze skin. His abdomen was covered in sinewy muscle and there was a line of dark hair that trailed from his stomach and disappeared beneath the hem of his trousers. Anya wrenched her eyes upward and a worried expression crossed her face. Butch was pale and clearly in pain. She went to his side and cleaned the wound as best as she could, feeling him tense every so often under her touch.

"There's only two BBs still embedded in your arm it looks like, but the rest seemed to have gone completely through. I'm going to have to dig them out so the lead won't kill you," she said, looking up at his strained expression.

"Just get the damned things outta me, Bambi," he said, voice rough. She nodded curtly and pulled out several stimpaks, injecting him above and below the wounds. Much of his tension subsided as the medicine raced through his blood stream, acting as a sort of morphine.

"Well, I'm not going to be gentle," she warned and dug the forceps into an entry wound. He sucked in a breath and held it, his muscles re-clenching. Anya was able to get the first BB out with no issue, and within seconds was on to the remaining one. "Almost done," she said in a singsong voice as she dug into the second hole ruthlessly.

"Shit, Bambi," he gasped and clenched his right hand into a white-knuckled fist. She pulled the BB out and tossed it into the river.

"Alright, alright, they're all gone. But sit still, I still have more of the wound to clean and then I have to bandage it," Anya said, already working on cleaning the cuts. He obeyed and sat still as much as a wounded man could. In no time, she had the wound cleaned and dressed. Butch was inspecting the sleeve of his tunnel snake jacket in dismay and draped it over his good shoulder with a sigh.

"Guess the Tunnel Snakes are no more anyway, since we're not in the vault anymore," he muttered as he stood and stalked back to camp. He stopped a few feet away and turned back to Anya, "You comin' Ba- er…Anya?"

Anya looked up and had a snide remark about to roll off her tongue, but the sincere look on his face stopped her. In that moment, he wasn't the childhood bully she loved to hate. He was a man with nothing more to lose, a Lone Wanderer just like herself.

"I..uh..I need to clean this all up so we don't get any Deathclaws in camp tonight," she said, turning back to her work. She dunked her tools into the water and shook them around, trying to get his blood off them.

"Do you need any help?" He asked.

"No, you need to rest. You've lost a lot of blood. Go back to camp, Dogmeat will watch over you," she replied.

"Dogmeat? The hell kinda name is that?" Butch said. Anya shrugged and shook the excess water from her tools. She heard Butch stomp back to camp and soon followed suit. By the time she got back, he had set up his own bedroll and blankets on the opposite side of the fire from her. He appeared to be asleep, but she wouldn't know for sure unless she checked…which she wasn't about to do. Anya settled into her own bedding and noticed that her old, hole filled blanket had been replaced by a newer one. She looked around for it and found a doggy bed fashioned from the old blanket and smiled. Dogmeat laid on it with his head on Butch's pillow. Anya soon fell asleep with that sight in her mind.

Anya woke with a start. Last night's nightmares faded into nothingness in the pre-dawn light. She pushed strands of her silvery hair out of her face and looked around. Camp was undisturbed, save for Butch sitting across the fire, cautiously watching her. He had a pot hanging over the fire and was stirring whatever was inside.

"Lotta thrashing coming from you last night, made it difficult to sleep. But I supposed my arm woulda kept me up all night anyway," he said. Something was different, and it took Anya a few minutes to realize what it was. Butch's dark hair wasn't slicked back like it normally was, and instead fell nicely into his greenish-blue eyes. Anya blinked a couple times, causing Butch to look over his shoulders in bewilderment.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," she said, pushing the blankets off her. She wandered off and did her morning routine and returned to the river to wash her face. She supposed he must've done the same and not bothered to put his hair back up. She sauntered back to camp and took a good sniff. Whatever he was cooking, it smelled heavenly.

"Thanks for the blanket, by the way, I guess being nice doesn't kill you after all. What're you cooking?" she said, flopping down beside Dogmeat and avoiding his gaze.

"Just a stew," was all he said. He continued watching her, his expression unreadable. She could tell he wanted to say something, but he held back for whatever reason. After too many minutes of the silent observations, she had enough.

"What, Butch? What is SO fascinating that you just have to sit there and stare at me like that?" She said, exasperated. She reached over and pulled dogmeat to her, scratching his ears to occupy her hands and eyes.

"You said my name, when you were dreamin'. You asked for me to help you. It was kinda spooky. What were you dreamin' of?" He said, almost reverently. Anya paused in her task and stared into the fire.

"My father," she said, remembering that she had been crying out to Butch, knowing it was nightmare. She had wanted him to wake her up. Butch seemed to only grow more confused.

"Your father? That no-good deserter? He abandoned us, abandoned you, turned our lives upside down and you're dreamin' of him? Why?" He said, his voice tight with anger. Without realizing it, Anya had stood and was screaming at him.

"You're an insufferable asshole! He died for what he believed in, gave his life so the bad guys wouldn't take his life's work! Everything was almost destroyed and all you can do is sit here and…and call him a traitor? Fuck you, Butch. Just fuck you." She was shaking with rage, and if she didn't turn away now, she was going to hurtle herself at him to wrap her hands around his neck. He stared at her, dumbfounded, eyes wide.

"Anya, I'm sorry, I didn't know…" he said, looking properly ashamed. Anya clenched her fists and closed her eyes, willing her anger to drop a few levels. He didn't know, he couldn't have known, she told herself. Not his fault. At the time, yes, it had felt like her father had abandoned everything. But now that she was part of Project Purity, she knew differently. But Butch didn't, and she had no right to abuse his innocence. Tears threatened to fall as she sat back down and clutched her knees to her chest.

For a while, nothing was said. The stew had finished cooking and Butch proffered two crudely made stone bowls and spoons. He dished the stew out evenly and went to sit by her, holding out a bowl for her. She took it and let the hot stone warm her chilled hands. Her hands shook as she stared into the broth, trying to calm all the emotions swirling in her.

"He's not completely gone, y'know," Butch said softly.

"Huh?"

"Your dad. He's always right there in your heart, so he's not completely gone," he said, tapping his own chest with a thumb, right over where his heart would be. "At least, that's what my ma told me as she took her last breath."

"Butch…" she started, but what could she say? She knew he had been close to his mom, having a father that committed suicide when he was growing up. 'Sorry for your loss' just seemed too cliché.

"It's a'ight, Bambi. Just..wanted you to know that I know where you're comin' from. If someone had insulted my ma, I'd have blown my top at them too," he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder for comfort. She leaned into his touch without thinking, having not felt another's touch since her father died. She had shied away from others, from men that had promised a good time, so why was Butch different? Maybe it was because he was the last solid thing from her childhood that she could mostly rely on. Even if he was an asshole at times. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He balanced his bowl on his leg and managed to one-handedly shovel a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Anya sniffed it, and while the scent was amazing, her appetite was gone again. She leaned closer to him and nibbled at her own stew. Thinking, she paused in eating and looked up at him.

"Butch? Can I ask you something?" She said.

"Sure, I guess, what you got on your mind, Bambi?" He replied nonchalantly.

"How did you know who I was at the muddy rudder?" She asked, slumping against him. His warmth felt good to her chilled body and his musky scent made her feel...safe.

"You kiddin' me? How could I not know who you were? Your hair is a dead giveaway, how many people do you see walkin around with silvery hair like yours?" He said, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She shrugged, deeming the statement to be true, but she felt that there was more to it than he was telling.

"I guess not.." she said, pulling away from him for a second to retrieve her canteen of whiskey. She took a swig and offered it to Butch, who in turn took an even bigger swig. He didn't grimace like she had though, and she remembered that he had been a heavy drinker in his teenage years. The rest of the meal went by in silence, both parties too intimidated by one another to say anything more.

The next morning, Anya awoke to Butch's injured arm draped casually around her midsection. She bolted upright, causing Butch to cry out in shocked pain from his arm being jerked upward.

"Oh god...did we...? Last night...?" She stammered, not remembering much from her drunken fit. Butch lay on his back, face screwed into a hard grimace as he was gripping his arm.

"Relax," he said in a tight voice, "nothing happened, you passed out on my shoulder and was shiverin', so I figured I'd keep ya warm."

"Oh thank god." Anya did relax a little bit, but was dismayed to see that she had torn open Butch's wounds in her panic.

"You sayin' you're too good for a tumble with the Butch-man?" Butch said half-heartedly.

"Come here, time for new bandages," she said, ignoring his remark and dragging him back to the river to clean and re-dress his wounds.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a stimpak from his bag and injecting it into his arm.

"I have a long way to go toda-" Anya started.

"We." Butch said, cutting her off.

"What was that?" She said, pausing in packing up the camp.

"We. Both of us. I'm not lettin' you go out there alone. 'Sides, I have equipment you need and I can offer more protection." He crossed his arms in front of his still bare chest. Anya pointed to Dogmeat.

"He's all the protection I need, and he can keep me warmer than any man ever could," she said, meaning for her words to sting. They had the exact opposite effect, however, instead causing a wicked grin to spread across his face.

"Warmer than any man, eh? Didn't stop ya from snugglin' up to me last night," he said. Anya couldn't keep the blush from her face, both from embarrassment and anger.

"That was different! That was the whiskey talking..."

"Nope, no amount of justification can help your case, Bambi," he chuckled and tromped down to the river with last night's dishes. Anya huffed and finished rolling up their bedding. She peeked over at Butch from the ledge they had camped on. She watched his muscles flex under his dark skin as he dunked a bowl into the water and brought it up to pour over his head, drenching his hair and face. He shivered as the water dripped over his back. Her blush deepened and something stirred within her, and she tried her hardest to squelch it.

Soon the unlikely companions were on the road, travelling on a course around D.C. to avoid the various Raider camps and Super Mutants. Butch was content in following along, whistling in that annoying way he did. He had put his jumpsuit shirt and jacket back on, but his hair was still in wild disarray from the morning's wash. Anya hated to admit it, but there was something charming about the way it fell into his eyes. She much preferred it to his normal, greaser look.

Much of the day had gone by without much interruption. They had encountered Raiders and other enemies that were relatively easy to overcome. Night was rapidly approaching as they scrambled to find some place to set up camp where they would have a good vantage point over the land. They had found what looked to be a large, flat rock. They hiked up the rocky alcove, disarming several mines they had found along the way.

"Anya, watch out!" Came Butch's warning, too late. The frag mine exploded as he rushed towards her. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as she was blasted to the ground. Shrapnel flew by her and struck her in several places, but luck was smiling on her. She had been just barely close enough to trip the bomb's sensor, but far enough for the explosion to not effect her more than knocking her down with the concussive blast ringing in her ears. Some sharp metal bits embedded into her cheek and arm as she shielded her eyes from the blast, but at least her leg hadn't been blown off.

"Shit," was all she could manage as the dust settled. Butch was at her side in a second, clutching her to his chest. With shaky hands, she returned the gesture, fisting her hands in his jacket. Her thundering heart was beginning to settle as Butch pulled away. He looked over her and noted the worst of her injuries- a few scrapes and cuts- and sighed in relief.

"Damn it, Anya. How could you not see it?" He growled, sticking her with a stimpak.

"I...I..." she stammered, embarrassed that she had let her anger almost get her killed.

"Shh, it's ok Bambi, it barely nicked ya," he said, dragging her to her feet. Her legs shook like a newborn foal's and she gripped at his arm to keep steady. He took her a little ways off, to the edge of the large flat rock that overlooked most of the valley, and sat her down as he prepared the camp. By the time he had the fire started, the shock had worn off and she was back to normal. She had pulled out strips of dried meat and a hunk of tough bread and had sandwiches made within minutes. They ate in silence and the air was tense.

"So..." Anya said, feeling uncomfortable with the silence. She didn't actually know what to say, but she had so many questions racing through her mind.

"So?" Butch said, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"What...what happened in the vault that first time I left?" She asked quietly.

"Total and utter chaos. Remember old lady Palmer?" Butch said. Anya nodded, dreading what he would tell her.

"She had a heart attack. The overseer went crazy and shot anyone that tried to leave, told the guards to do the same. I've never seen someone as blood thirsty as he was that night."

"I bet I have," Anya said absentmindedly, giving scraps to Dogmeat.

"I heard there were Dragons out here...you ever see one?" The subject change was so sudden, it threw Anya off track. She looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" She asked, confused. What in the world was he talking about, dragons?

"Dragons. Apparently big, ugly, and meaner than hell. The caravan women would sit around the fires and tell stories of them, just wonderin' if you've seen any in your...travels," he said.

"The only thing that would fit the big, ugly, and mean description would be Super Mutants. But I doubt they could be called dragons...so you must mean Deathclaws. Those women forgot one description of them- fast. You can't outrun them, if you try you'd die within seconds," she said, matter-of-factly and was delighted by the shiver he gave. She sat back and looked at him for a second, speculating.

"What? Why do you keep staring at me like I'm a specimen in an exhibit?" He said.

"Are you still scared of RadRoaches?" she said bluntly and grinned as his face flushed.

"No! I mean...well, not anymore. We encountered them a lot in the caravan that my fear seems to be gone," he said, tossing some sticks into the fire.

"Good, because they're everywhere out here. Those and Radscorpions," she said. He nodded, as if he already knew this fact. She looked down at her scarred arms, not wanting to ask her next question, but curiosity getting the better of her.

"How did she die?" She asked reverently. Butch's head flew up and his eyes narrowed.

"Cancer. From the reactor you blew up," he said, a hard edge to his voice. Anya couldn't look at him, because somehow she had known it was her fault. Just like Old Lady Palmer's death along with so many others were on her hands. Anya shivered as a chill wind blew through camp. She hauled Dogmeat to her and he grunted at the sudden change of his position. She stroked his chocolaty fur, willing the tears to stay abated, and he was soon lost to slumber once more. She heard a sigh from Butch's place across the fire and a shuffling. She looked up as he sat beside her.

"I'm sorry, Butch. I...I wasn't thinking when I overloaded the reactor. I just had so much pressure on my shoulders, from Amata, from you. It was the first thing I had thought of, and it was stupid. I didn't want to kill the Overseer, but I ended up doing it anyway when I killed the reactor. I shot him, Butch. Shot him in cold blood, right in front of Amata. What kind of monster am I?" She said all in a rush, tears breaking free. The admittance shocked even her and she dropped her head into her hands. She hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone who used to terrorize her when they were young.

"Shit happens, Bambi. You just gotta let go of the past and keep movin' forward. It's what we all gotta do," he said quietly.

"How...philosophical of you. Never knew you had it in you, Butch," she replied, wiping her face with the palm of her hand.

"I know, right? Seems like I'm just full of surprises. But I gotta hand it to ya. I've been wanting to get outta that hell hole since you left, and you returning made it all possible," he said, digging up her canteen of whiskey and pulling out a bottle of his own. She blinked at him for a second.

"How...?"

"Looted it off a Raider back in DC, it's perfect to my tastes. Much stronger than your Brahmin piss," he said.

"Right," she said as he thrust her half-full canteen into her hands.

"To freedom," he said, holding his glass bottle up in a mock toast.

"To freedom," she echoed and clunked her canteen against his bottle. They both took swigs of the bitter liquid.

"Hey, remember at your tenth birthday party how you spit on that sweet roll Lady Palmer gave you and dared me to take it?" Butch asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm sorry for nearly beatin' the crap outta ya. I was angry 'cause that stupid robot destroyed the cake..and good old dad had finally left us. May his damned soul rot in hell," Butch said, taking another swig.

"Whatever happened to you and that stupid GOAT test thing?" Anya asked, changing the subject.

"HA. I was told I was gonna be a hair dresser. Can you believe it? A hair dresser? Nah, man. I'm a damned Barber."

"Wow. I was told I was going to be a janitor. I think I like yours way better than mine, but now look at me. I was exiled from the only home I knew and thrust into an alien world," Anya said, replacing the cap on her canteen and setting it aside. It slid and bumped into Dogmeat's side, startling the dog. Anya reached out and pet him, the dog turning to proffer his belly for rubbing and huffed in contentment. Butch also reached out his hand and stroked the dog's fur, but his touch seemed almost reluctant. Anya took his hand and yanked him forward and placed his palm on the dog's chest. Even for being outside so much, the dog's fur was still soft. She could feel Butch's muscles relax as he realized that the dog wasn't going to jump up and rip his throat out.

Butch's hand paused as it bumped into hers. Anya paused as well and stared at his hand, wondering what was up with him. His hand began to trace a light trail up her own hand and onto her arm. His touch was soft and it confused Anya. She looked up at him but found him concentrating on his task. There was a sort of hunger that was in his expression and it sent shivers through her body. He watched as his hand made its way up her arm, as if it had a mind of its own. He paused as he reached a crossroads of where her arm disappeared behind her chin. He moved his hand to her jaw line and stroked softly until his hand reached her chin.

"Butch...?" she questioned quietly, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

"Shh, jus' let it flow, Bambi," he whispered. She was about to ask what the hell he meant when he leaned in and covered her mouth with his own. It caught her off guard, but she supposed his strange behavior hinted that this was going to happen. She sat, frozen and not knowing what to do. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she reached up hesitantly to place her hand on his neck. He pulled away slightly.

"Through all those years, I watched you grow into the woman you are now. I wanted you for myself, but my pride wouldn't ever admit to it. That's why I always terrorized you, it was a way for me to be close to you without being...well...close," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again. This time she relaxed more under his touch and leaned into him more. She moved her hand up to rest at the back of his head, surprised at how feathery his hair was. This time she pulled away and shifted her position to where she was facing him.

"Yeah, I secretly loved you too," she said lightly. With trembling hands, she reached up and began unzipping his torn jacket. He moved forward and tasted her lips more as she worked to remove his jacket and shirt, nudging her to where she lay on her back beneath him. Once the fabric and leather was gone, she let her hands explore his chest and abdomen. He trembled beneath her touch and directed her hands lower to his growing erection. He moaned into her mouth as she kneaded him beneath the fabric of his trousers. He pulled back and ran a hand gently up her side and over her chest, intent on undressing her as she had done to him. He left a trail of kisses along her neck as he undid the many clasps and zippers on her leather armor until she lay beneath him in nothing more than her underwear.

"Jesus, Bambi. You're..beautiful," he whispered, letting his hands explore her body.

"And you, Butch...you're," she paused, trying to think of the proper term she could use to describe him. "Sexy." That was the term she decided on, though she regretted admitting it when he smirked.

"Why thank you," he said, chuckling low under his breath.

"Shut up, Butch, you're ruining the moment," she responded and dragged him down on her. He bunched her form fitting tank top up and assaulted her breasts with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back into him, feeling him smile against her skin. Her nipples pebbled under his touch as her arousal grew. She reached down and began stroking him again through his pants, startled when it all but jumped into her hand. His hand gripped her hip hard and he moaned.

"Guh," he mumbled, dropping his forehead onto her chest. After a few more seconds, he directed her hands to dragging the rest of his vault suit down over his hips, revealing the rest of him. He slipped off her underwear and added it to the pile of clothes, and now he lay atop her, both as naked as the day they were born. He slipped himself between her legs and she willfully accepted his presence there, dragging a blanket up over his back. She froze when the head of his member was positioned at her opening, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Butch...I..I don't know.." she said, voice wavering. He gently stroked her hair, trying to ease her discomfort.

"Shh. The caravan women said that the first moments will hurt, but I'll make sure I go slow," he said, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, she nodded her consent, but sucked in a breath as he entered her.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear. "It'll be better if you relax. Tell me when the pain is gone." He held himself inside of her, trembling at the amount of self control he had to expend to not ravage her. After what seemed like forever, Anya finally nodded to tell him to go ahead. With one swift move, he plunged himself into her completely. She gripped him with her worn nails and he held still once more. He kissed her, trying to get her mind off the pain. He pulled himself out slowly, delighted when she rose her hips to receive him deeper. He pushed himself into her again, setting a gradual pace until her walls moulded to him properly. She arched her back into him as he stroked her core with his length, voicing her pleasure in a series of whimpering moans.

"Oh...god...Butch..." she muttered, voice high pitched in a breathless state. He kissed her with a newfound fervor, filling her mouth with moans of his own. His head slid deliciously against her innermost wall and he let out a shuddering moan. He pulled out a tiny bit and pushed back in, continuing this rhythm for a few seconds before pulling out further and pushing back in deeper. Their combined moans were slow and passionate, muffled on occasion by gentle kisses. His pace increased and she squirmed beneath him. She ran her hands across the vast expanse of his broad back and brought a leg up to hook around his hips. The new position allowed him to thrust deeper than she thought possible and she let out a cry of pleasure. He ground his hips against hers, creating friction that sent her writhing in pleasure. She bucked her hips against his, causing his member to get constricted within her, a moan pouring from deep within his chest. Sweat beaded on his brow from the exertion, but his pace increased still.

"Damn, Anya...you...you f-feel so...so...guh," he muttered, sentence ending with a moan. Experimentally, she clenched her walls on him and he cried out as she tightened on his sensitive shaft. He took her nipples up into his mouth in response, teasing and nipping at them to elicit pleasure cries from her. She threw her head back as he thrust into her faster and faster, bringing himself to the brink. He propped himself up and raised her hips to give him more access.

"C'mon Anya, tighten on me like you did befo-" his words were cut short by his moan as she did as he said, clenching herself on him as tight as she could. Their wild cries of pleasure echoed through the night around them. Butch whimpered as he drove himself into her faster and faster each second. Finally, with what seemed like an animalistic need to mate, he jerked his hips sharply forward spilling his seed into her, followed by tiny thrusts as his climax exploded through him. His member twitching inside of her brought her to her own climax and she dug her nails into him as the immense pleasure washed over her body. Her limbs were trembling as she brought him back down on top of her, kissing him softly. He withdrew himself and rolled off her to lie beside her, breathing heavily.

"Butch?" Anya asked, hoping her voice was quiet enough to where he didn't hear her.

"Mmh..." was his mumbled reply.

"How...how many...women...did you...?" she said, unable to finish the question.

"To tell the truth...what we just did was my first. In the caravan, they promised me to another girl without tellin' me. It pissed me off, not only the not tellin' part, but I already had my mind set on you...y'know?" he said, rolling and propping himself up on one arm to look at her. Relief washed over her, as she didn't like the idea of him having been with others the same way he was with her. She definitely wouldn't feel all that great if she was just a 'good fuck' to him, as this was the last thing she personally had to lose besides her own life. He leaned over and kissed her, a slow and passionate kiss to solidify his words.

"I...I love you...Anya," he said when he broke the kiss, in an almost hesitant voice. It was as if he was embarrassed by the admission, but she place a hand at the back of his neck and dragged him down for another kiss.

"I love you too," she whispered to him. With that, they fell into a companionable sleep, side by side. And for the first time ever, nightmares didn't plague Anya's dreams like they usually did.