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The night had grown cold and lonely. The air was still, and despite how the sun baked the hot earth over its course across the sky during the day, the wasteland always felt cold when it finally fell behind the horizon. There wasn't a reprieve from the cold, even upon the Prydwen, wheren sat Elder Arthur Maxson in his office, attending to his own personal duties late into the night. Most of his men had finished their daily duties and had hidden themselves in their own quarters, to take in what little time they could to entertain their own personal lives outside the constant stream of death, fighting, and chaos that otherwise swallowed up whomever merely existed in the wasteland. It was a hard life to live for many, and for the Brotherhood of Steel, it came harder so. Everyone had work, and the weight of even a single person's responsibilities was sometimes too much to bear.
It was ten times worse for Maxson. At least the worst his soldiers had to worry about were keeping their own lives intact and sane; he had to worry for all of them in addition to himself. It was a constant battle for the man, making constant decisions that would usually leave at least one of his brothers or sisters dead. If he was lucky, some might only succumb to the trauma the wasteland offered like an overflowing cup of water. Chaos always seemed to spill out from somewhere, despite the greatest efforts to bring order and organization back to the world.
It was one of those nights again. Maxson was in his office, flipping through paperwork and electronic datafiles about the last week's worth of mission debriefings and reports from extraction teams. There was always a little list in the back of his head as he went over the numerous information if he had lost any soldiers--and thank God, there weren't any that he knew of that night. Ever since the fall of the Institution, there had been far less chaos to deal with below the ship--the worst enemies came either in the form of raiders or super mutants. Most of the stress came instead from political battles--trying to gain favor with the people of Diamond City. But it was a lot to take in, and even more to try and handle.
Sometimes, Arthur Maxson didn't want to be a leader. Despite his passion in the cause of his people, there were plenty of days where the man just felt empty and defeated, a shell of what he had once been brimming with upon his election as an elder at only 16. Amazing how just a few years of terror and battle could sap so much from a man's soul.
The sound of footsteps made Maxson look up from his desk. Even in the darkness, he had no issue with picking out the soft, female form standing in the doorway of his office.
"....You need to sleep," the woman whispered, stepping into the room. Her thin nightgown trailed behind her, the soft, amazingly pure white color seeming to glow in the otherwise darkened room. "You've been up every night for the past week, Maxson."
"I need to work," Was all he could come up with in a pitiful response. That was always what he said to her, every time she nearly begged him to bed. It was his constant, useless, almost sad excuse. Even in the face of stress and emotional defeat, the man still struggled and scoffed a helping hand like a dying fish flopping out of the water. "I'll come to bed later, love, I promise."
His promise didn't seem to convince the woman. She frowned with firmly pressed lips, then let out a sigh. She was the only one who could see right through him--Maxson's facade never much worked with her.
"Come to bed now, baby," She said again, this time stepping close to the desk--close enough that she could reach her hand out and press her warm, soft palm against his cheek. A smile pulled across her soft, sweet lips.
"Be a good boy and listen to mama?"
The words worked like a switch. The only indication that they meant more than face value to Maxson were his eyes momentarily widening, as if he didn't expect her to say that. But his eyes closed, and his face unconsciously started leaning into the woman's soft touch.
The computer beeped as it powered down, and Maxson started to drop the paperwork he had been sifting through in his hands. It was a wordless response, but the woman smiled, satisfied, and backed away. She turned to leave the room, and stopped only at the doorway to turn her eyes back towards the elder for a moment.
"I can't remember the last time I fed my baby," she whispered, almost playfully, before leaving Maxson's sight like a graceful shadow.
The words lingered in his mind as Maxson pushed himself onto his feet--his cheeks were red, just enough that the rosy color was still visible even in the darkness. Nobody needed to know the intricate relationship between himself and his lover. Nobody needed to know how she had such a strong, yet gentle power over even the strongest man in that entire region of the wasteland.
Nobody needed to know that, despite the fact that the woman was his wife, she was also his sweet, dear mama.
It only took him a few minutes to organize his desk, and soon after Maxson left the room, stepping down the hallway to his own personal quarters. Everything was dark, save for the dim, yellow lights that lined where the ceiling met the wall, if only so people wouldn't get lost in otherwise pitch-darkness since the lack of windows left out any natural moonlight.
Maxson opened the door to his bedroom with a mind flickering with....emotions. There were too many to bother singling them out anymore, as he had learned best, but he knew that a sense of hope and comfort lingered within his very veins. The sound of her voice, the promise in her words.....It was one of the very few things that excited Maxson that much.
She was waiting for him, sitting on the bed--their bed--with a gentle smile on her lips. Her nightgown had been opened slightly so her breasts were clearly visible in the soft moonlight that fell in the one window just above the headboard of the bed. They looked so soft, and the thin nightgown only accentuated the curves of her torso, her shoulders, her stomach....
He didn't realize how long his eyes had been staring until she finally beckoned for Maxson to sit next to her. Her soft, bright eyes were exactly what made his heart melt. Even battle-hardened, stress-laced and with years of nothing but hate and bloodshed beneath his skin, he couldn't believe how those soft eyes could make him feel so vulnerable.
He approached the bed and removed the outer layers of his armor--the jacket, the metal clasps, everything but his undershirt and pants. She smiled, since this time she didn't need to remind him to do that herself, and opened her arms when the bed finally dipped with his weight beside her.
"Come here," the goddess of a woman whispered. Arthur didn't need to be told a second time, and leaned into her body as she embraced him. Her warmth enveloped the elder's body like a blanket. "You've been dealing with so much, baby...you need to remember to take time for yourself..."
Her words were a mother's pure, sweet coo. It made something flip within the man's body, something deep and instinctual that left an otherwise dominant, powerful man into little more than a child again. A child who wanted to be held, to be loved, to be protected. He was nothing more than a child who needed his mother.
A response wasn't needed to validate the words, so Maxson merely pressed his face against her soft throat, nuzzling the skin so he could feel it against his lips. He didn't so much kiss her throat as he did feel it--rubbing his lips down the center until he came to her collarbone, where the gentle dip in the center lead further south, down to her breasts.
Oh, her breasts. They were voluptuous and full, always so full. He had never yet gotten his wive pregnant, and he knew more than well that she never had children before meeting him. But her breasts were always so full, leaking with the sweetest liquid that only a mother could give and Arthur was filled with an obsession for. It was his shameful need, a guilt-ridden comfort that he could only let himself have when his wife played as his mama, and opened her arms for him and invited him to indulge. She made him feel safe.
Maxson whimpered when those soft fingertips started to trail up and down the center of his back. They knew all of his spots to touch--all of the little parts that could make whimpers bubble up to his lips, make his body shiver and shake with need and want for more than just a suckle of her sweet milk.
"M-Mama...." he found himself whispering in an ironically deep, rumbling growl, mere seconds into the subtle play between them. But she didn't chastise him, berate him--she never made him feel ashamed of his desires. The woman merely giggled and shifted so she beckon him further into her lap.
"It's okay, Maxie. You've been a good boy--don't be scared...." Her gentle words made the elder shiver, but continue to move his lips and mouth until he found one of her bare nipples. Just like a small child, he wrapped his mouth around it, licking at the little nub and suckling on it gently before he finally got the reward of his cautious actions.
It started first as a trickle, but soon became a gentle spill of sweetness on his tongue when she finally started to leak that perfect, beautiful milk. His wife moaned, and Maxson could feel the way it made her chest vibrate. Oh, it was so warm, so intimate, he could feel her subtle hands still working at the last button and clasp of his pants--somewhere in the middle of all the gentle movements, they had grown tighter around him, constricting his throbbing arousal and making it even more painful. He needed his mama, needed her warmth, her cooing, her milk, her cunt. He needed all of it.
She continued to moan and murmur sweet things into the cold air for him to listen to; soft assurances, praises, and words of love. She soothed him as she pushed off his pants, wrapped her slender digits around his cock and started to pump him slowly.
"Mama..." he whimpered again, feeling desperate when he had finally run dry of milk and her breasts gave nothing more. He tried to suckle for a few more moments with a growing fervor, even going so far as to bring his hands up and start groping and pawing at her chest before the woman brought her free hand up to touch his cheek again. It brought Maxson's attention back to the world, and his focus on her voice.
"Shhhh....baby boy, it's okay. You need to move over to the other one now.....just like that, yes, good boy..." It didn't take much of a gentle push to remind him that she had more than one breast full of milk. He shifted with a little whimper and wrapped his lips around her again. She groaned at the sensation, feeling his tongue licking and coaxing out every drop of milk that he could get, while his hands pressed and pawed at her like a child. She stroked his head with one hand, and continued to pull on his throbbing dick with the other.
His arousal was hot against her's palm, and a thrill spread through her body from it all. The way such a powerful man begged her, whimpered like little more than a child so she would give him more to drink, more pleasure of her hand. It was a beautiful combination of power and maternal pleasure that she loved to thrive on during those soft, beautifully peaceful nights between the two of them when Maxson needed to give up his responsibilities. Because sometimes he just needed to be cared for--he needed his mother.
When she felt the man's hips start twitching of their own accord, she cooed a him, "Baby boy, hold on--mama's gonna move okay?" She gave him a moment of warning before her body shifted again, this time to lay down flat on the bed, legs spread apart so he could sit between them as he came and hovered his body above hers.
Maxson lowered his lips back to her tit, suckling hungrily while she stroked the nape of his neck and cooed in amusement at his growing enthusiasm. The tip of his hot, hard cock rubbed against her pussy, between her outer lips hard enough so that she could feel that he was just as eager for the feel of her cunt as he was the taste of her milk. Oh, he was always such an eager baby.
"You want mama's cunt?" She whispered, still stroking down his neck. Elder Maxson hummed at first, seemingly not wanting to lift his mouth from her breasts before finally doing so to whimper,
"Yesssss. I want mommy's cunt--it's so soft and hot and tight...." He shook, then whimpered, sounding almost in pain as he almost started to rut crudely against his goddess’ body. "Always so fucking tight--mama's pussy is the best, makes me wanna fill you up."
"Put some babies in me?" She teased, watching as Maxson visibly shivered at her suggestion, and feeling how his cock started twitching against her sex. "Get me pregnant? Aren't you a selfish boy--doing that so mama's breasts get even more full, huh?"
The pleasure and shame were obvious on his face as he nodded, licking off a few stray white droplets that clunt to his lips. "I want mama's boobs all full and big so I can keep suckling all the time. You taste so good, mommy..." He started to rut harder against her, so precious and innocent--it was hard to tell where the play stopped and her actual Maxson started in his mindless haste of thrusting. There was something so beautiful about seeing him so desperate to slip inside of her wet pussy that he could barely keep himself together.
"Shhhh....mama's right here, slow down...let me help you, baby boy..." She couldn't let him keep going for too long--all of his suckling and grinding had left her body feeling so empty, and feeling the heavy weight of his cock only rubbing against her clit was enough taunting to make her feel endlessly empty. She needed his cock slipping inside her, filling her up and reaching that spot inside that made her see stars.
So she opened her legs just a little bit more, and reached down with a free hand to help guide Maxson's cock--he thrust inside her without a moment of hesitation, and let out a sob when her soft folds finally wrapped around his length.
"Mama!" he cried in a half-whimper, shaking a moment before awkwardly starting to make small, little thrusting motions with his hips. It was hard to tell anymore what was him playing the role for role's sake, and what was him saturating himself with being in the mind of a child. It was endlessly hot either way, feeling how she needed to coax him to thrust harder, to shift and move in the best ways to help her feel like her body was burning up in pleasure.
"Good boy!" she moaned when he finally shoved balls-deep inside of her greedy cunt. "Oh, oh baby boy, you're so good for mommy, filling her up with that thick, fat cock..." She licked her lips and gently coaxed his face back down to her breasts, where Maxson started to suckle again as if on instinct. His hands gripped the woman's soft hips, holding her down so his thrusts could get deep inside of her heavenly heat and make his orgasm keep creeping closer.
Everything was heat, was pleasure, was warmth and love and a million other things between them. The woman was nearly wrapped around Maxson, and he around her, bodies writhing in pleasure as the man's thrusting started to get faster and harder.
"M-Mommy I'm--" He started, sobbing and whimpering when her breast stopped leaking milk again, but he merely nuzzled his face in the center of her chest while she stroked his hair.
She knew what he meant. "Oh, oh my god baby boy, that's it! Make mommy cum! Fill her up with all your jizz, make a mess of mommy's cunt~!" Everything kept getting more and more tense as he plowed into her, her cunt twitching and throbbing and--
Everything finally came apart. She felt her body start throbbing around Maxson's cock, milking him in tight, hot waves of pleasure and pressure until he couldn't take it anymore himself. The man whimpered and sobbed as his body erupted with equal ecstasy, and his cock started to spill and leak a seemingly endless amount of jizz inside of her warm, open womb. It felt so primal to him, filling her up, thinking about how he could get her round and pregnant and her breasts even more full of milk. It was so dark and shameful, but Maxson couldn't help the endless amounts of lust and sin he felt in those short moments, completely unhinged from shame with the orgasm wracking his body.
The moments of silence that came after the mutual orgasm were warm and soft. Maxson didn't pull out of her. They wanted to feel it for a few minutes more, that intimate connection between them. And, honestly, because there was something precious about having such a grumpy, matured man of the wastes laying down on her chest, nuzzled against his wife’s soft breasts and whimpering with every tiny aftershock of pleasure. He was so sensitive--and every time she even gently clamped down on his softened cock, he let out the most beautiful little sound that only made the woman want to keep him there forever.
"My baby..." She whispered, kissing his forehead, and bringing up one of his limp hands from her hips so they could intertwine their fingers.
Maxson smiled against her skin. "My mama," he whispered, kissing her sternum. ".....Thank you, love." It was the sound of honest appreciation. Maxson was a powerful man with few rivals--he was a man who underwent so much stress to keep his people afloat, and there were so few people who could claim that they had as much leadership or fighting skill as he did. But there was one person who bested him--only one person who could put him on his knees, make him sob and plead in desperation, and make him feel comforted and loved.
And that was his wife, his world and his equal.