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Ghoulcy Week '24 / Day 3: Somnophilia (NSFW)
“This ain’t been touched in a good while… ‘least, it looks that way,” The ghoul noted as he led his follower into the desolate, decaying shack. The place came furnished with broken windows, a dusty mattress, and a busted safe that must’ve held valuables before it was ransacked. Someone’s modest homestead had become a 5-star hotel for the ghoul and his cheery companion, who had been sleeping under the ice-cold stars for too many nights. Lucy looked around the small room and sighed, “Well, it isn’t much, but I think I’ve learned to take things as they come.”
He scoffed and took a seat on the ground as he quipped, “Yeah, you’d take a bullet if it was given to you.” This might’ve ruffled her feathers only a few days ago, but she’d quickly warmed up to his coldness. After dropping her belongings to the floor, she knelt down to rummage in her bag for the firestarter they’d scavenged. “I’m gonna get our fire together so we can cook some of that, uh… meat…” her eyes darted to the human leg still strapped to the ghoul’s belt, and she continued, “Why dont you look around and see if there’s anything left here for us to use, please?”
“Aw, honey,” he argued, “ain’t nothin’ in here but us, radioactive dust, and that ol’ bed.”
“Please?” she repeated, and Dogmeat chimed in with a persuasive whimper. He rolled his eyes and got up with effort as Lucy took the firestarter outside, Dogmeat at her heels.
The ghoul kicked the safe, but nothing rattled inside. He rummaged around in the small room, half-heartedly checking corners and beneath a pile of rotted blankets, until he eyed the mattress and deduced that no harm could come from looking. He lifted it up and raised his eyebrows to notice that some pieces of the floorboard had been ripped up and reassembled. After propping the mattress up on the wall, he uncovered a shallow hole beneath the broken floor. “Well, lookie here,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled a box from its sandy hiding place. Glass bottles clinked inside, making his heart skip.
“Did I hear glass?” Lucy burst into the doorway, firelight wavering behind her. “Is it water?”
He procured two bottles from the box with triumph and sneered, “Better…”
She furrowed her eyebrows at the clear liquid as he swirled it around. “That’s… not water? The heck is it?”
He popped off the cap and instructed, “C’mere, take a whiff.” She leaned in to sniff the substance and instantly recoiled. “Yuck,” she groaned, “That smells medical.” He smirked and put the bottle to his lips, turning it upside down to take a generous gulp. “Well, ain’t no chem, but it’s somethin’.”
Lucy reached for the second bottle and stepped back into the firelight to read the label. “Holy moly,” she exclaimed, “I’ve read about this! And it’s in the movies I like to watch with– used to watch with my dad.”
He almost smiled at her persistent naivety… almost. The ghoul followed her outside, then took a seat in the sand. “No vodka in those vaults, eh?”
She shook her head, “Maybe there used to be, maybe some stashed away somewhere… We grow barley and hops to brew our own beer, but it’s just for special occasions.” With a darkened expression, she gazed distantly at the bottle in her hands, recalling her last special occasion. The memory was sharper than a knife in her side.
“Well, go ahead ‘n knock yourself out, Vaultie.” He took another hefty swig; it might as well have been water to the ghoul. She stared at it silently before returning it to the box. When she came back outside, she cringed to be met with the sight of old blood. The ghoul had begun preparing their dinner, with Dogmeat gazing wistfully at the severed limb. Lucy attempted to stifle her nausea and sat cross-legged by the fire, suddenly realizing how chilly the air around her had become as the moon rose higher in the black sky. She worked to keep her vision far from the gruesome scene, and he teased, “Aw, c’mon now, you can’t still be full from last night.”
She grimaced, “I still don’t know where Dogmeat found two different people’s legs…”
The ghoul replied, “Look, if you don’t like carrion cuisine, you can just use up all those little calories in your muscles and cartilage. But then you wouldn’t be leaving much for me to work with.”
With a roll of her eyes, she scoffed, “You’re not gonna eat me, and I’m not gonna starve to death.” In response, he gave a sarcastic, “ Sure, sweetheart.”
He continued to cook in silence. As the scent of singed flesh met Lucy’s senses, her stomach growled needily, yet twisted with shame. After a moment of deliberation, she finally demanded, “Y’know what? Gimme that– please” she reached for the vodka. The ghoul cocked an eyebrow, but passed it to her without a single comment or criticism. She sniffed it once more before nervously taking a sip and immediately flinching at the sterile flavor. “Ugh,” she groaned, “That’s terrible!” Then, she took a bigger sip.
As he finished up roasting their dinner, he instructed, “Go grab me that safe over yonder– and try not to puke.” She quietly got up and wiped her mouth as she fetched the safe. Upon returning, she set it down next to him, and he promptly used it as a serving platter. “That’s fine dining righ’there,” he declared.
They ate in silence. He devoured it as primally as the first time she’d witnessed him cannibalize a fellow ghoul, which only added to the qualming storm in her stomach. Dogmeat gratefully ate up her portion of the meal, and Lucy tested pinching her nose to help with the taste. Useless.
Once they were finished, the ghoul stashed the little bones into the safe to prevent Dogmeat from choking on them and dropped the bigger bones to the ground for her to lick clean. Lucy’s expression softened. Despite the circumstances, she found it sweet that he seemed to care about their canine companion. He caught her gaze and grumbled, “One thing I ain’t is a dog killer… when it can be avoided.”
She smiled, and noticed that her fact felt significantly warmer… the heat radiated across her whole body. She inched away from the fire, but felt little difference. With a deep exhale, she slipped her arms out of her suit, letting it drape around her waist.
“Did it get warmer?” she questioned.
“Naw, sweetie, pretty sure that’s the vodka burnin’ you up from the inside,” he mused.
Lucy took a deep breath and looked up at the empty, disorienting void of a sky above them. “But I only had a couple sips…” she pondered, and he let out a rough laugh. “Bless your golden heart,” he chuckled, “that’s a couple sips too many for you , if all ya’ve only had beer your whole life.”
She, too, chuckled. “Well, then– what is a wasteland for if not getting wasted?” Lucy reached for the bottle and took another brave sip, powering through the unfamiliar taste. The ghoul watched with something akin to a mixture of amusement and adoration. “Easy does it,” he took the bottle from her, taking a sip and then advising, “Better not black out, now, ya hear? If you ain’t awake in the mornin’, I’m leavin’ your hungover ass.”
“Aw,” she quipped, “You won’t leave me. Somewhere in there… deep, deep, in there… is a heart, and a conscience.”
“That’s quite the insult,” he grumbled, but cracked the tiniest smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice… but she did, silently. Suddenly, the fire didn’t seem as warm to Lucy … and her chest felt tight.
The map of stars shifted across the sky in the deepening night, and Lucy practiced her stealth. She thieved quick glances at her travel companion, unable to explain to herself why she even wanted to get a good look at him. Upon noticing this, he muttered, “Ya ain’t gotta be sneaky about it– pretty used to the stares.”
Her faint smile dropped. “Sorry, sir, I’m not trying to gawk at you. It’s just…” she trailed off, her vision drifting to the ground. She fidgeted with the sand, tracing her fingers through it. He prodded, “Just what? ”
After taking a steadying breath, she expressed, “Well… if you were human once… I guess I’m trying to look for that.”
The ghoul cast his gaze to the fire. “Sweetie, my humanity tumbled down with civilization.” Though he spoke coldly, his tone held enough softness to ignite a glimmer of wishful hope in her heart. She looked up at him, but he remained fixated on the flickering flames. As Lucy peered at him – truly, deeply examined his features for the first time since she met him – a twinge of familiarity twisted in her mind. Something like nostalgia, but so far away. She scooted closer.
Lucy murmured, “Do you miss the way it was before?”
He grumbled, “The hell kind of stupid question–?”
The ghoul held the answer in his eyes.
She stood up slowly, stumbling a bit as she attempted to gain balance. Beer never did this to her. As she veered backward, the ghoul instinctively reached out to grab her by the forearm. Giving a relieved sigh, she flashed a grateful smile, but he only glared in return. Lucy had planned to go inside and grab her Pip-Boy to play games on, but quickly realized she might not be able to make it there and back without holding onto something for balance. How embarrassing would it be for her to faceplant into the sand right in front of him? The thought made her nauseous. Instead, she sat beside him; too close for his comfort, but he made no complaint.
He remained silent, but peered at her in his peripherals. In the warm light, her cheeks were vodka-flushed, and the flames glinted in an amber sheen across her dark hair, which fell loose around her sunburned shoulders. There was a sadness beneath the ambiguous color of her doe eyes, and he worried for a moment he might’ve caused it, then chided himself for such a thought. She gazed into the flames, which danced in the reflections of her eyes.
Something in him – deep, deep in him – wanted to see excitement dance in her eyes the way it did when they first met. Since she discovered the truth about her father and the evils committed by the corporation she once mistook for a community, the fiery hope he admired had dwindled. He recalled that he, too, once had a fire dancing in his eyes, filling him with the light of life. Now everything felt colder than the sky above them, but this do-gooder beside him acted as a sunspot in the snow, whether he would admit it to himself or not… He wanted to stoke her fire in some way, some small way to keep those flames alive.
“Y’know,” he spoke softly, “I used to get real annoyed with all your yappin’ and carryin’ on… but I kinda miss it when you get all quiet like this.”
As she looked up at him, her eyes ignited. He had set her ablaze once more. She nearly whispered, “That’s very kind, sir,” and leaned her head against his shoulder. He made no effort to move away from her.
He took another sip from the dusty bottle, and she hooked her arm around his. He could feel her heartbeat against his bicep, and it hastened as he not-so-subtly pulled her closer. Suddenly, she unsteadily climbed into his lap. He protested, “Now wait a minute–”, but she pushed past his half-hearted defenses. She had vodka and fire on her breath, and a look that urged him to burn his tongue. Her head lay upon his shoulder, and he made no effort to push her off nor pull her closer. He waited, and she nuzzled into his tattered clothes. Slowly, she sat up, looking up at him with the distinctive far-away haze of intoxicated bliss.
She spoke with a honey-tinge, asking plainly, “Do you want to have sex?”
He flinched, looking her up and down. Her body was pressed against his, warm and tight, and he rested his hands on her thighs – it seemed every bit of her was firm, yet soft, in all the right places. “You little killer…” He contemplated. The firelight glowed behind her, a halo of flame around her dark hair. “You’re drunk,” he stated, “Go on to bed. I don’t want ya sleepin’ in when we got prey to hunt.”
Her eyes were heavy and shadowed as they met his. For a moment, he expected her to argue, to push the envelope. Instead, she muttered a sullen, dejected “Okey dokey…” and slipped off his lap. She stumbled over to shelter, but glanced at him over her shoulder before she went inside. He met her gaze, and she smirked, reaching up to grab her tank top. The ghoul watched as Lucy pushed the blood-stained fabric down to her hips, revealing her soft but grimy skin. She took off her bra, throwing it to the floor inside the shed. The firelight flickered across her glowing skin, and he stared with abandoned dignity. As he examined her features, he noticed a bright wound in her abdomen that looked like it had been self-stapled back together.
The ghoul asserted, “That ain’t enough to make me fuck a drunk Valutie. Now git– off to bed.”
Lucy shrugged, finally going inside. He put his face in his hands, growling in frustration. He then let his hands fall to his lap, still trying to savor the way the pressure of her weight felt on top of him. He cast his gaze to Dogmeat and mumbled, “You can go night-night, too, doggie. I’ll be up a while…”
The flames dwindled slowly. In the pitch black night, he sat alone in the sand, trying to remember what she felt like beneath his fingers. He glanced down at his hands, at his index finger– her finger… and used it to trace along his length through the fabric of his pants. His breath hitched at the fresh memory, like a wound, of her skin bared specifically for him to see. Staring into the fire, he thought coldly– maybe she wouldn’t have even remembered, maybe he should’ve taken whatever she offered him – but surely she wasn’t serious. Surely it was the vodka talking. It stung like a bullet. His decaying body ached for her in ways that disgusted him.
As the flames died out, he sighed and got up. Standing in the doorway, he gazed at her sleeping body wrapped in a sheer blanket of white moonlight. His ancient heart broke at the sight of her. Lucy hadn’t put any clothes back on, just stumbled into the little house with her suit around her waist, discarded her tank top onto the bed, and slumped onto the cold floor. She lay on her back, her head tilted to the side. His gaze fell across her, examining her figure with a twinge in his chest. He knelt down to peer at her as she lay helpless and bare, and his cock twitched with greed. He brushed his fingers across her body, savoring her velvety skin. She looked just as innocent as the day he first laid eyes upon her. The ghoul was nearly drooling, but shame twisted within him. He grabbed her tits, which fit perfectly in his greedy hands. She didn’t stir, completely blacked out beneath him.
He sighed in frustration and shifted to kneel above her, taking out his aching cock to stroke it slowly at the sight of the sleeping vault dweller. Her breaths were slow and steady unlike his pace, which was desperate and uninhibited. Slowly, he leaned in to brush his dick across her soft tits, then withdrew and stood up. Shaming himself, he zipped his pants back up. The ghoul slipped his arms beneath Lucy and moved her onto the mattress. After slipping off his coat, he draped it across her sleeping figure and went back outside.
The ghoul stumbled back into the moonlight and dropped to the sand. He knelt there, staring into the shadowy horizon, heavy with the weight of guilt. The embers of the fire he shared with her still glowed in the darkness, and he stared into them for what felt like centuries.