Know When to Fold 'Em (Closed for Obuzeti)

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

She doesn’t know where he’s going and she can’t quite summon up the brain power to care, either-it’s a weird catch between feeling unsteady and incredibly distracted-but cold, too, for all the heat in her blood.

He’s carting her off to the hygiene room, and that’s a very good idea Kara decides-especially when he finally puts her down, turns the warm water on her.

“Uh huh-” Kara breathes-a jump that sends a bounce through her pert, water slicked chest when he brings his hand against her like that, firm but not harming-and then brings his hand around to slide his fingers into her. Ooooh no-pressure of any kind on the roof of her sex was just-

Kara tries not to squirm but can’t sit still, teeth worrying at her lip as she leans back against the shower wall-she can’t really close her legs with his hand in the way, and while the wall steadies her-she still feels like her legs are weakening rapidly.

“You just...just wanna see me soaped up.” Kara tries to play that off flippantly, tease him back-but he’s got her against the ropes. It takes her a minute to find the right bottle despite there only being three of them-and then she has to put the first back when she realizes it’s shampoo and not the body wash.

She manages to pop the top and just-tips it upside down over her chest before haphazardly setting it down again. Each pant was starting to color with faint, feminine little keening noises, lathering the soap up over herself, fingers running over her own glossed skin-which hardly helps her predicament.

He revs her up so easily, hardly fair-and while still running little circles across her glistening skin, devolving into mostly self caresses of one breast-Kara reaches out with her other hand and touches his chest, hips unconsciously rocking into his touch and her head pressing back against the shower wall, pale column of her throat exposed.

The faint scent that always clings to Kara’s skin and hair had filled the heated space with the lathering of soap. It had made it easier to discern what exactly went into that sweet but spiced scent. Cactus blossoms, and cactus blossoms intermingled with cloves of all things, a rousing combination that woke the senses rather than dulled them. It’s a decadent luxury, her soaps and lotions-one the courier was flatly unapologetic for. They were really business considerations, anyway-negotiations went better when you smelled nice, so she had claimed before.

 

[Obuzeti]

Kara, wet and bouncing and soapy for his pleasure, might be the best thing Jonah has ever seen. He idly curls his fingers into her as she tries to wash off, but it ends up half-mastubatory, which is just fine with him, one hand on her own breast and the other against his chest, steadying against him. "I do," he replies, eyes dark, and says nothing else.

Instead, once she begins to keen with each breath, he leans against the wall, starts working the showerhead down her body as his fingers slide into her a little faster; the warm spray of water massaging against her collarbone, her pert tits, then down the length of her belly; finally, Jonah turns it around, upside down, and brings it up to Kara's lower lips, the steady, gentle pulse of water hot against her pearl as his fingers spread her wide against the spray.

"When you finish coming," Jonah murmurs into her ear, a bare rumble over the trickles of running water, "I'm going to turn you around and fuck you against this wall until I'm satisfied."

His mouth presses against the underside of her jaw, where her pulse beats hot and fast, and then he sucks on it just hard enough for the skin to redden, his shaft hot and hard against her thigh.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

He leans in closer, thrusting his fingers in faster and curling them where it counts each time-she doesn't think she can take much more of that, and opens her mouth to warn him of it-but then the water is pouring over and against her collarbone, her chest; it runs in rivets over her fluttering stomach and his hand, a different sort of heat against her clit-Kara's thighs tremble and her hands find his shoulders, eyes widening as he dips the showerhead yet lower.

"Jonah-"

He's got to know-!

He spreads her wide and brings the water to bear at the same time, tearing what little self control Kara had in the first place to pieces with a high pitched and then hissing curse. The red head's entire body goes ramrod straight save her hips-which buck wildly against the inescapable pulsing jets of water and his fingers, her own tight on his shoulders. All the earlier back and forth teasing, the intense way he'd heated things back up-what he -says--it's too much, and her thoughts scatter like shattered glass as she orgasms -hard- and with a breathless almost scream-driven utterly senseless by his relentless attention.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah milks Kara through her orgasm, pressing the showerup against and his fingers up into her as her hips buck. He cuts off her keening cries with his lips, swallowing the scream with a near-frenzied hunger. Watching her body flex in his grip - breasts bouncing, skin slick and reflective, legs spread around his fingers - makes him throb so hard his sight dims a little, and when the convulsions begin to slow, he draws the showerhead away, sets it back in its cradle and lets Kara rest against the wall for a moment to regain her breath. Instead, he leans against the wall with her, lips pressed against her forehead.

When her breathing evens out some from the gasping it'd been reduced to, Jonah doesn't wait. He turns Kara's chin towards him and kisses her gently, then presses on the back of her shoulder until she turns to face the wall, her back against his chest

"Now I'm going to have my fun, Kara," Jonah says, his hands coming up to seal over her heaving breasts, both fondling and squeezing the soft flesh, catching her nipples between his fingers. His shaft comes up between her legs. The bigger man sways his hips forward, pressing her ass against his thighs, shaft sliding between hers.

He wants to sweep Kara away; blast her clean of worry and fear and doubt with sensation, with trust, with pleasure she could never give herself. And that giving isn't selfish, because Jonah can't remember being this hard ever before in his lifetime; Kara at his mercy, her glistening body bending to his will, he could spend a lifetime making her writhe under his fingers and his tongue and his cock. The rest of the night, though, he can manage that.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

His mouth over hers, the pulsing water, the thick fingers her inner walls are spasming around and the strong shoulders beneath her own fingers-its an overload of sensation, pleasure flooding out everything else and leaving her dizzied and gasping against his chest, coming to herself warm and wet and tingling everywhere. Blue eyes widen as she stares at nothing for a minute.

Wow. Just-wow.

The gentle kiss nets him a dreamy sort of post endorphin release smile-and then she's turned around to face the wall, his rumbled words coming back to her in a near echo behind the new ones.

"You promise?" Kara breathes, drawing in a sharper breath as his hands cup over her breasts, fingers knead and pull at them. He's solid against her back, just-a wall. She rocks on the balls of her feet a little, back into and against him, her fingers against his strong thighs-and then the dexterous ones of her left hand trailing down what length of him she can reach between her own thighs.

Whenever he tells her he's going to do something, Kara wants it, and she wants it -bad-. It's always a good time. It's always better than good of a time.

 

[Obuzeti]

"Yes," Jonah nearly groans, as Kara's fingers play over his shaft. It's past the time for patience; instead, one of his hands drop to take hold of his length, over Kara's fingers. He guides her into stroking him for a couple seconds, then lifts the tip up and slides it home inside her, the air in his lungs coming out in a long, low grunt as he does.

He doesn't stop to appreciate it though, instead, his hand stays sealed over hers, pressing her fingers against where he slides easily into her slick folds. "Spread your legs," he says, low and feral. "And keep rubbing."

Kara is encapsulated by Jonah on all sides; his body, hard and tall behind hers, thighs slapping into her shapely rump with each pump of his hips, the wet skin slapping in between them; his other arm like a band of iron around her midsection, come up to cup a breast and maul it where it's pressed into his grip, between him and the wall before her. His length slides up into her deep, each thrust deliberate and pushing up until it forces her up onto her tiptoes and against the walls.

There's no part of Kara he doesn't want to touch, to exploit for her pleasure.

Jonah's breath is hot in Kara's ear over her shoulder, and his breathing is ragged as he fucks her.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

She's so wet and so -sensitive-, and tight, very tight-but not an ounce of the usual starting discomfort, not with as slick as she is after orgasming around his fingers. Primed for far too long for exactly this, and Kara issues a near distressed, breathless little sound of anticipation.

"Uh huh-" She imagines she can feel every ridge of him as she slides her heels apart, and doesn't need much coaxing to touch herself, copy his own earlier ministrations-Kara doesn't have much in the way of inhibitions in the first place, and definitely not when he's talking like -that-.

He has her held tightly against his much larger, harder body, drives into her harder and harder until she's up against the wall and has nowhere to go, can't get any taller than her tiptoes.

The noises Kara's not even aware she's making tumble closer and closer together, increasing in pitch as he thrusts in full length-her free hand clawing at the shower wall and the fingers of the other half forgetting what they're doing as her attention spirals to his cock between her trembling legs and his ragged breath in her ear, his hand tight on her breast and the other sliding against the shower wall with each forward thrust.

"Pleasepleaseplease-". She can't arch her back any further while compressed between him and the wall, and her hips are nearly as stationary-leaving Kara to writhe against him and the wall, losing her goddamned mind while he fucks her against it just as he promised to do.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah'd like it to last longer but he can't, not with how long he strung Kara out and watched her unbelievably sexy body twist and squirm under his touch. Instead he grits his teeth and goes all in, his hips working to slap into hers faster, her folds taking him in deep and clutching, and it's too fucking much. He groans shakily, pinching her nipple in between his fingers, and opens his mouth to say something else but can't; he ends up hissing his breath out instead, and feels the shift that tells him he can't hold it back any longer. So instead his hand drops from the wall to Kara's hip, locks her in place against him, and his hips hammer up into her one-two-three times -

And then he gasps, hoarse and crying out, as he spills everything into Kara's body, his cock jerking inside of her with every reflexive pump of his hips. His brain empties and all he can feel is Kara; her wet skin, her gasping breaths, her folds slick and tight around his length, the heavy curve of her breast in his fingers, her hair, wet and draped on his shoulder. Kara. Kara.

He's saying her name before he understands his mouth is open, gasping for air.

It lasts for several seconds of total, consuming bliss, and then he sags against the wall too, curving to the side to take his weight off of Kara. His length still twitches inside her periodically, until he draws out with a harsh breath.

There aren't words. He doesn't have the breath to say them anyways. Instead, his arm curves around Kara, and his lips press against her brow and her cheek, seeking her soft skin out blindly.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

He's close. Kara doesn't think it as much as she -feels- it, some deep intuitive pulse of -knowing-. His breath exits in a hiss and Kara gives back the only way she currently can-tightening her pelvic floor muscles in an instinctive flex, screwing down as tightly as she can around him.

It backfires deliciously when he locks her in against his hips-and Kara flat -screams-, interrupted in each jolt to her much smaller frame-spasming around him for the second time.

She'd feel guilty about it, greedy if it hadn't been mutual. That sync is always the best kind of winning, and as mind blowing as anything possibly could be. Oh, God-she REALLY hadn't known sex could be like -this-. Her mind was nothing but Jonah for several long moments, Jonah who had wanted clarification because of course he did, Jonah who wanted to make sure she knew he was safe, that she was safe-everybody safe.

He wants to protect her as fiercely as she does him, and that's a warming feeling, putting someone above self interest, stupid as that would be with anyone else, anywhere else.

That trust.

Pinned between him and the wall still, Kara vaguely realizes he's gasping her name in his own little mantra.

It's extra dizzying, maybe.

She's shaky and still trying to catch her breath, but she hugs him tight as soon as he turns her back into him-tight and then a lighter, absent sway, still breathing hard. Dazed and sated in a way she imagines a fat sunning cat would be, Kara smiles up at him.

"Now I really am tired.". And she breathlessly laughs.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah laughs breathily, exhausted at the intensity he'd put into their exchange; he'd seen black spots for a second. Even in the worst fights he's ever been in, he's never felt in danger of losing consciousness, the razor edge of reality grounded deep in him, but Kara doesn't play by any rules he's used to. "Little bit," he says, and lets his eyes close for a long second as he sucks air, letting the warm water of the shower rinse away his stress.

He leans his head against hers when they reopen. "Well, now I know at least one way to catch up to you," the bigger man teases gently, and rinses the fluids of their coupling away, almost staggering out of the shower, though he regains his balance afterward and towels off. The knots of muscle tension that have loosened in him are unbelievable. Sex is good for more than just the pleasure, it seems.

"Might ask Beatrix for some tips," he muses, and then he heads for their bed, damp towel thrown over his shoulder. "Hear she's done some of that, once upon a time. Failing that, maybe Pretty Sarah has some tips to share."

Now he's just teasing. Beatrix he trusts, but no one else has a damn need to know what they get up to in private.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Kara takes a beat longer to properly clean up-much less distracted with the soap this time. Then she shuts the water off and likewise exits the stall on shaky legs-catching herself on the towel rack, taking a minute before pulling the fluffy bit of terry cloth off of it.

“Pretty Sarah’d never believe you.” Kara brassily declares, a little muffled from within the fluffy towel she’s got over her head. “I’ve been renting out whores for everything BUT sex for three years now, and filling ALL their ears with bullshit crazy kinks I don’t even got and maybe don’t exist for jus’ as long. That’s a well I’ve LONG since poisoned, my friend.”

Kara debates if his talking to Bea would matter or not. That’s someone she’s bullshitted a heck of a lot less. The ghoul had told her a lot of prewar and post war stories, and while Kara would have never admitted it-she respected Beatrix more than most anybody out this way. And ultimately? She doesn’t much give a damn what anybody thinks or when they think it. She was likely to bulldoze over them with crazy antics or made up stories anyway, and Bea didn’t much judge in the first place.

Kara was pretty sure she could tell Bea she used to run with raiders and the ghoul wouldn’t care.

The courier’s not really thinking about any of that though-she’s watching Jonah head for their bed, sated and relaxed and-just, wow. That’d been really crazy, all of that, and he’d enjoyed it as much as she had. LET himself enjoy it.

Kara wraps her hair up in the towel and beats him to the sheets, hopping up and climbing over to the spot she’d vacated yesterday, flopping down into the silky sheets. Like hot showers, clean bedding on clean skin was another one of those luxurious things Kara both immensely enjoyed and would never take for granted.

The towel headwrap had come undone and fallen partially over her face-and Kara pulls it aside to peek up at him, a quirked smile as she rolls over and stretches, as casual in the nude as she was clothed. “I had fun.” She states, dropping the towel beside the bed carelessly before she relaxes out of the stretch, contented.

“You had fun.” The red head continued approvingly.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah slides onto the bed, taking it easy, and turns to smile at Kara - really smile, not the quirk or the smirk or the crook he defaults to. He takes her in - all curves and smooth skin and his, completely and without regret. It moves him and he lets it without thought, turning over to face her and his fingers sliding underneath her chin. He turns her face up for a long, soulful press of his lips against hers, as his hand slides down over her shoulder, the long arch of her side and hip, and then hooks under her thigh to tug her a little closer, against his side.

"Yes," Jonah says, but it doesn't capture the completeness of the sensation. "I had fun, but it was also satisfying. I didn't have to worry about hurting you, or going too far. I gave you everything and you took it."

There aren't words to describe how sexy he had found that, that she gloried in his intensity, rode it, took it within her, no hesitation. Even the memory of it, spent as he is, sharpens Jonah's gaze and makes his hand on her thigh squeeze possessively.

"I want more of that," he says, eyes locked with Kara. "I want more of you. I want more of your body, and I want you to be satisfied by me. I love you, and I want you to find love in me. I want to have everything, Kara. I want you to have it in me."

Jonah's smile crinkles his eyes. "All of it. Everything. It's yours, and you're mine."

He leans back into the sheets, watching her idly. "So stay on your toes, Kara."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

That’s the kinda smile that’d make anybody fall at least HALF in love-ya know, if she wasn’t full blown suckered in already. She takes in that smile and her lips curve into an answering warm one without her even noticing-taking the image of him at this moment, this EXACT moment-and tucking it in the same space she secrets the warm, soft little things-the things she wants to remember forever and ever.

She melts in that kiss with a content hum; she can’t think of a place she’d rather be than right here, right now, with Jonah of the whale.

Kara listens to him as he expands on it, puts words to sensation. Satisfying...yeah, she’d say so, snrk. But he was-he really was, he had liked that, he had felt it, all of it, everything.

The thought excites her in more ways than one, and Kara grins at his final comment, a laugh before she scoots in closer, wraps her arm around him. “Like I said-someone was bound to stand up to me SOMETIME.”

Kara’s devious expression shifts to thoughtful, tipping her head back to peer up at him. “You know, I actually didn’t think I really...liked men? I mean, or women-like, anybody. Jus’ scenery.”

Maybe because she’d grown up a step removed, her fellow raiders having been older and not allowed to touch her-not in that sorta way, anyway.

“I didn’t spend too much time mulling that over any-was busy with stuff I WAS interested in. But you, Jonah-boy, did I get to noticing you.” Kara dropped her head back against his chest and cuddled in. “Firs’ was just seeing ya almost smile.” Kara draws back her hugging arm and counts out against his skin, a single fingertip against his chest. “And hey, that was nice. To look at, to get. But THEN-” She counts out a second digit against his chest. “But THEN alluva sudden I knew what color yer eyes were. And then I got to realizing jus’ how BIG you are, and just-you’re so pretty! Whaddya doin’ being so pretty?” Kara’s third counting fingertip touched down alongside the other two-but then the fourth doesn’t quite make it before she’s waving that entire arm around a little, a ripple of movement through that breast as she peeks up at him again.

“I mean, not like a girl! Obviously not like a girl.” It’s belatedly occurred to Kara he might not be exactly flattered with being called ‘pretty’-and she traces her fingertips down along his jawline, quickly clarifying (sorta).

“But MAN pretty.” The ‘macho’ inflection on that was mostly ridiculous coming from such a petite woman, and the redhead laughs.

 

[Obuzeti]

Kara settles against him, soft and perfect, and Jonah just rests his head against hers as she talks and fingerwalks her way down his chest, the touch making his chest jump at the faint, ticklish sensation, though he doesn't comment on it. Rather, he turns into her touch on his jawline and presses his lips against her delicate fingers - for all that he's seen her beat a man to death with a baseball bat and a savage smile, this is how he remembers her hands and her touch: the sensation of grace.

Not even that he deserves forgiveness, but that he doesn't need it to begin with. The thought flutters through his mind and is gone without conscious acknowledgement.

"I suppose I'm tall," Jonah allows, as he considers the list of traits that he's been informed are attractive in men. He's never actually had a conversation on the topic, he's just mostly guessing from movie posters and old books and shit like that. Inference, mainly. "And not fat. Those are good."

The new apocalyptic world might select for other things, but he wouldn't know. He's never gone to the Wrangler in search of someone to take home, or had a slaver pitch his merits to a lusty crowd. Not that he'd survive doing or trying that, of course.

"Be a little odd if I had those," he notes further, his hand rising up to brush a thumb across the underside of Kara's breast. "I mean, can you even imagine me as a woman? Doesn't fit."

He couldn't even picture Johann raising a daughter. The picture just doesn't click.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Jonah lays out all of two considerations about himself; Kara waits for more, but- there isn't anything more!

The roughened pad of his thumb brushes beneath the soft skin of her breast, and Kara has to think about that for a second. No, she really can't imagine him as a lady.

"Hrm...not really. But I've known some ladies tough enough to have been men! Maara was big enough, mean enough to stand against most anybody." Kara gives a soft laugh. "Definitely wasn't her charisma keeping those ruffians in line."

Her fingers trace down over his forearm and wrist, the red head calm, relaxed.

"Then you got me, getting away with all kinds of things. If I'd been a dude, I'd probably be a long dead one.". She can't imagine she'd be a whole lot bigger, after all-and people were less likely to let their guard down around a man. Couldn't really distract with a wink and cleavage, either.

Yeah, she knows what she's rocking.

Her eyes flick up again. "That really all you think you got going for you? Tall and not fat?" She's not making fun, or even teasing. It's a surprisingly open question. She runs HER thumb over his cheekbone, not considering anything-just goes to talk straight and long held observation.

"I like the shape of your face." She states plainly, a quirked smile. "I like that the color of your eyes stands out from your hair. I!" She brushes noses with him with a little sound of amusement in her throat. "Like your nose."

Tall and not fat-pft. People were too busy being intimidated by him to try and get in his pants, so he wouldn't have heard anything there. What's more, good looks were a hell of a lot less useful with his chosen skillset, so he probably had never had to leverage them any which way. Also, you know-men did a lot less of that, maybe.

Her fingers tapped over his hip and thigh.

"Also your legs are like tree trunks, for real. And do you know what the view is like following along behind you?" Okay, now she's teasing, turning crass. "Your ass and back look like sculpted marble."

And there's that salacious wiggle of her eyebrows again, the flirt.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah shrugs. "Beatrix," he says, and that's an explanation in and of itself, no clarification necessary.

He doesn't linger on the thought of Kara dead. No need to torture himself with shit that hasn't been. Instead, he raises the shoulder not pressed against their soft sheets, a little bemused by his partner's own confusion. "I fucked a whore once and otherwise haven't bothered to go - looking," he says, a little awkward even at the thought. "

She lists nice things about his face, and he doesn't know what to do about that. His suspicion is that Kara likes the shape of him because she loves him, and he's completely satisfied with that; being attractive to other people is irrelevant because he doesn't want any of them and doesn't want their admiration. To be fair, though, his hips and glutes are in good condition; he does a lot of running and walking, and he can afford a lot of protein, unlike most Wastelanders.

"I can look into tight pants for around the Vault, I guess," he says, with a faint frown. "King seems to like 'em. I'm not wearing them out and about though, I want the pockets."

I mean, he stares at her all the time, so it's a fair exchange. She can stare at his back and he'll stare at her chest. It'd be hard to sync that up though.

Jonah has a moment of disorientation when he realizes just how weird his train of thought has gotten.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"I fucked a whore once and otherwise haven't bothered to go - looking,"

“And she’d been terrible!” Kara exclaims, remembering what he had said about having had sex the one time. A joke about getting a refund flits across her brain, but she leaves it. “See, they’re a lot better for dragging on adventures. I’m not above paying for witnesses to my antics. I ever tell you that when I busted Vanessa outta Tenderheart, I left a stuffed Ragstag dressed in drag in her room?” There’s that telltale slight widening of her eyes as she relays the tidbit-she’s not bullshitting. “Guess Devon didn’t find that as hilarious as I did, the killjoy.”

She can’t really imagine Jonah picking up chicks. That seemed...beneath him somehow. He’d be bored. Also, no one but her had gotten to see how adorable he was under there, so there’s that.

"I can look into tight pants for around the Vault, I guess,"

Kara blinks-and then bursts out laughing, bowing her head against his chest as her shoulders shake with it. He was so deadpan about it, about everything- “You ain’t gotta truss up like-like I don’t even know what! Oh man-” She can’t even imagine him in leather pants-oh, wait. What about a sequined jumpsuit?!

Kara’s eyes flare wide before she cracks up even more, the train of thought both silly and hilarious. It wears her out even more and she cuddles in close again, rubbing at an eye and still smiling that entertained, delighted smile. “You just wear whatever you wanna wear, that's what I always do!"

He’d liked that dress though. Maybe she SHOULD try and wear stuff he’d like when they’re home? Hm. She does have a lot of stuff in her closets. "...though now that I think about it, I hadn't considered what kinda opportunities there were in dressing just for like, home. HMMMMM!"

 

[Obuzeti]

Honestly, Jonah hadn't even thought about Devon in a long time. He wonders how Tenderheart's doing without the seedy businessman to run it; he'd been a shithead, but he kept things orderly at least. His messy death probably hadn't done much for what passed for law in that town. "Didn't I kill that guy?" he muses, half-serious.

"I do wear what I want to wear," Jonah says, amused by her quiet thrill. "No one is going to convince me otherwise. That said, what I want isn't always what's personally comfortable. Getting to watch you freak out is worth being a little out of my comfort zone, in the short term. I imagine I'll get tired of duds that aren't bulletproof, soon enough."

Practicality always wins in Jonah's mind.

"Think on it," Jonah says, settling deeper into the sheets and drawing Kara into his chest as he lets the bucolic vibes of good sex and Kara's bare skin on his lull him to slumber. His eyes flicker and slide closed. He's not asleep yet, but he will soon be, and he's got no good reason to fight sleep off right now. "I'd enjoy it."

He hadn't meant to say that last bit, exhaustion loosening his tongue. That dress had looked really good, though.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

It was another morning of waffles and tomato soup-Kara didn't seem to realize the two didn't normally go together-breakfast Kara had woken up before him to go make. He'd joined her in the kitchen to fry up some sausages for them and the dogs, and it was a nice, fun little morning shooting the shit and talking over the days tasks yet to do.

They'd kissed and parted ways for their respective projects-though Kara hadn't said what hers was. She just liked to tool around in general, and didn't want to distract him from his. It's a quiet afternoon.

~*~

Whatever it was Kara was off doing, Lupa had apparently lost interest in it-the one eyed she-wolf silently wandered into the room with the workbenches to keep Jonah company, curling up within view against the wall. He might note she was sporting a very spiffy red bow around her neck-a hint of a plastic breakaway buckle behind it.

Not even forty minutes later a very excited Kara came pounding up the metal staircase down the hall-something white hugged to her chest in one arm and black straps of some sort in her other hand. Hrolf, amusingly, comes bounding along behind her, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. He overtakes the petite woman and continues down the hall-claws against metal as he skids to a stop somewhere past the room, having missed Kara’s turn into the place.

“I found something!” She informs, slowing to her normal saunter as she whips the striped fedora off of her head, already messing around with her gathered items.

The courier was in a state of mishmashed undress-no bra beneath the other night’s silk pajama shirt (the buttons misaligned by two leaving a swathe of pale skin exposed at her collar), her boots of all things (vault floors were cold on bare or stocking’d feet), and a dark blue handkerchief tied tight over her head, completely concealing the usual blaze of red.

The odd ensemble still manages to work for the attractive woman, the same as anything else always seems to.

She comes at one corner of the workbench, a curious flick of those blue eyes before she holds out the fruits of the morning’s search-one surprisingly pristine button up shirt in near enough a size for him. “Ta da! An’ suspenders, and a hat!”

A small bounce on the balls of her feet. “You can wear these, and then I’ve already picked out something-and we can play with the jukebox! I’ve pilfered all KINDS of holotapes and records for that thing, you better believe.”

She’s more than a little proud about such a collection. She’s yet to find one to rival it-and probably would have stolen most of one if she had.

“Whaddya say?”

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah had settled to constructing a new rifle - he didn't have all the parts on hand, but he could get some of it started. He doesn't want a marksman carbine, but rather something scaled up, with the punch to put some hurt on armored opponents - something that could drive through Centurion armor, or any kind of hellacious robot come running his way should he run into another of those black-coated freaks from Sierra Madre. With that in mind, he sets up a 12.7mm action and receiver stolen from that Frumentarii freak's SMG, then mounts a forward grip and a rifle stock onto it. The barrel will have to be custom-machined, as no rifle barrel he can think of uses this ammunition type. That'll have to come from the Runners.

As a bonus, though, this means both he and Kara will use the same kind of ammunition, since Lil' Devil uses 12.7mm, and he can carry extra rounds for her.

The skid of dog claws alerts him to Kara's return, though, and he turns to catch sight of her as she waltzes in with boots and a nightshirt, bearing another top for him to throw on. It has buttons on it, which puts him in mind of the fliers and books he'd seen around the Washington Library when he was growing up. They haven't been common since, sort of an in between to the Ultra-Luxe's obnoxious garishness and the rest of the wasteland.

He wonders if this qualifies him for middle class now, as the Pre-War world would have put it.

"This is - all well and good," Jonah says, donning the shirt without much hesitation. The suspenders he eyes with more prejudice. "What am I supposed to do with those?"

Well, the hat isn't too bad at least, but he's not putting suspenders on his sleeping pants. They'd just stretch out.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Ya hook ‘em to your britches so nobody can yank ‘em down, of course!” Kara cheerfully pipes-and it’s honestly a toss up on whether or not she’s bullshitting him. She’s behind him somewhere, snapping the finger clips down over the elastic band of his pajama pants. “That was a big problem back in the day, surprised you don’t already know about them pants thieves.”

Yep, bullshitting.

The elastic bit of menswear straps cross in an x between his shoulder blades, and Kara slides a strap over each shoulder rather than sling them around and risk catching him in the face with a metal clip.

“Mostly though-” The redhead muses as she comes around to the front of him. “They outline shoulders! You’ve got a nice set of those, so it seemed like a logical choice.” Her fingers moved down behind the elastic before she stepped back half a pace, nodding her satisfaction before those bright blue eyes follow the neat row of buttons up to his face instead.

Kara's mouth quirks into a smile. “Hey, button ups suit you pretty nice! What ‘cha think?”

They ought to get him some matching pants. Louise could probably make short work of that, Kara imagines.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah frowns. "I feel like on the list of tactical concerns that remains a minimal one."

Despite the minor complaint, he doesn't move as Kara puts the suspenders on them, rolling his shoulders a little as he tries to accustom himself to the feeling. It's not too different from carrying an empty duffel bag on each shoulder, he supposes. Her comment makes him crane his neck back to try to look at his own shoulders, then backstep into view of the wall mirror.

Well, he's wider than Kara, definitely. And he's bigger than most other men, and wider across the shoulder. He supposes that's what she's talking about, though there's always been a sort of - disconnection - when it comes to evaluating himself. He never spent long on self-inspection.

The glower Jonah has as the stares into the mirror, first inspecting his shoulders, then turning to get a look at his back and front both, is honestly a little impressive.

Well, Kara's into it, and she's had her pick of men to choose from. She's the expert. The idea softens Jonah's glare some, and he turns to her instead. "It's soft material," he admits. "Haven't worn proper clothing in - I dunno. Would have had to be Rivet City, going to Saint Monica's Church. I've stuck with fatigues mostly."

It is soft. He can't put pockets on it, or ballistic strips, or weapon straps. It's clothes for wearing, not surviving, and he feels a little alien in it. Kara wore that blue dress like she'd barely cared about the difference between it and her usual closet-retail outfit, and he doesn't know how she pulled it off.

Well, he had, in point of fact. Jonah has to smother the smirk that peeks out.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The glare he was currently casting at his own reflection was bad enough even she might have paused were it directed at her-but then he seems soothed somehow, turns back towards her.

“I've stuck with fatigues mostly."

“And you look good in those too.” Kara flippantly asserts with an almost stubborn nod. “Ain’t nothing wrong with safeguarding yer ass, you know?”

She wonders what Rivet City is like, and what a church in Rivet City might ALSO be like, and before she can form questions about either her mind jumps back to the topic at hand. (Also, what if it was his DAD that took him to church? Fuck that guy times a hundred, she ain’t about to bring him up-)

“That’s something the raiders get right, clothes being a form of self expression, individuality! I’ve never seen any two dress, paint, or tat themselves the same.” Kara nods along with the words. “I used to paint my face too you know-swipe of black right across here-” The red head tapped a fingertip from a spot just beneath her cheek bone, close to the bridge of her nose-and then swiped it up and over her cheekbone at an angle towards that side of her face.

And then she decides to test the softness of the shirt, falling in against his chest with her own silk encased one, arms wide to wrap him up in a hug, the accompanying little noise of mild exertion as she squeezes him tight, then relaxes and tips her head back to smirk up at him.

“That and some lipstick on the top lip only. Was my ‘look’ before I went clean faced-didn’t want to tip anybody off about what I was before I hopped on the trail West, saw what proper civilization was mostly like. S’good I didn’t get my face tattooed like some of the others-just that little sun on my shoulder.”

Much as it'd hurt having needles working over that scar tissue, it'd been worth it just to cover up the cigarette burn, make it hers. Something better, something hers, something happy.

Besides her jacket, that tattoo was all she'd brought with her from back east. They were lucky, that's why she'd held on to them-not that the tattoo was going anywhere anyway.

 

[Obuzeti]

Well, looking good had never been the primary function of his fatigues, but he's pleased anyway to hear it's a good look, because he wouldn't have been willing to change that anyways, especially now that he's pissed off the Legion in fine form.

"It's also likely they don't run across the same amount or type of clothes, scraps, and ink," Jonah points out. He also doesn't mention that even if the general collage of bits is never the same, the general outfit of a raider is so recognizable that walking into town with a welding mask and spikes on can get you shot on sight in NCR territory. "But I'll agree they let everyone do their own thing."

His arms close around Kara as she snuggles into his chest, the reflex automatic at this point and welcomed. She's small and fits right into his arms and against his chest.

"Never got any tattoos," Jonah murmured. "Just never was a thing."

He remembers a line Johann had quoted - your body is a temple. Corinthians, he believes. The context of the line is that even your body doesn't belong to you; it is an instrument of righteousness through which the works of Christ may flow. It was the sort of rhetoric that he was fond of; that Jonah was an instrument of will, an object to be wielded in pursuit of justice. He was to learn to be empty: a hilt and blade in the hand of greater powers.

Jonah takes a long breath.

" . . . anything you'd think would suit me?" he says, eventual.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Kara’s fingers smooth over the muscles of his back while he thinks about something else, and she considers a joke or two or five, other means of distraction-but he returns from it, and instead of anything outlandish or dramatic-Kara just presses her lips to his chest.

“Oh, that’s nothing I could help with.” Kara murmurs before tipping her head back again, Caribbean blue eyes shifting from one mossy green eye to the other. Her voice is a little softer than the entertained reminiscing moments before, a stroke of seriousness, thought. “Ink’s a kind of permanence that can’t be argued with. Should mean somethin’, given you’re gonna carry it around forever-something that matters.”

She can’t honestly figure on a symbol or talisman he’d want to bear-and the macho or manic decoration, well, that didn’t fit either. Honestly, that wasn’t what she thought ink should be for anyway, not these days. Raiders did that because they didn’t figure on being around all that long in the first place-bad decisions abound in that case.

She oughta know.

Kara picks up speed again, rocks on the balls of her feet into and away from him and back again, brightening up as she starts on yet another story.

“Everybody in Maara’s gang had at least one tattoo, and I wanted to have one too. S’only fair. A lot of the ladies and fellas just had war paint scratched into ‘em by Flint or Becky, and sure, I coulda probably gotten one from either of them just fine-but I wanted something better. There was this other guy, you see? This big, mean, super hairy guy named Boulder, and Boulder did the good stuff.” Kara’s eyes narrowed a fraction and she was suddenly conspiratorial, sharing the secrets of a long dead raider, secrets gleaned from watching the rare occasions of his artistry from her perch in the rafters.

“Snarling dogs and spiky bear traps, chains and knives and bullet casings-stuff you couldn’t get just anywhere. And me, I had somebody’s idea of a brand on me still, something that wasn’t going to go away. I wanted something cool to go over it, my own mark. I wanted to trade up, and I wanted Boulder to do it-which woulda never happened if I hadn’t tricked him into losing that bet.”

That cocky smirk curves Kara’s lips on remembering the old triumph.

“And even then-it was pretty even odds on whether he’d do the sun I asked for or else scrawl something hilariously foul across my shoulders, but my luck held out! And then my skin was for sure my own again, no question about it. Sunshine’s free, and happy, and warm-something the bombs could only cover up with dust a little, not blow out.”

Kara nods. “Toldja before how it and my jacket were the only things I brought with me on the trip West! Lucky totems-also pretty much all I owned at that point, but still.”

It was a story with surprisingly no bullshit attached, and even Kara seemed to note it with a little hum-but who cares about ink on ex raiders? They got things to do, IMPORTANT appointments with juke boxes and jazzed up clothes and dancing.

“I should go put my dress on, we’ve got a date!”