One Size Fits Most

On one hoof, Roach was grateful for the distraction. Even if it meant running for his life in a cumbersome suit of woefully inadequate power armor, it was arguably better than spending the next hour trying to clear his mind long enough for his dick to go soft again. That said, even the simple act of running was being hampered by the reflexive ministrations from Enclave mare being taken along for the ride.

The ground erupted ahead of him into a dark plume of airborne soil and radioactive crystal. A massive pair of red pincers swiped blindly through the curtain of debris and crashed together with heavy clacks that came within mere inches of his helmet. He kicked his hind leg into the ground and bolted hard to the right, dodging around the irradiated monstrosity and simultaneously sending a shock of unwanted pleasure up his groin and into his hips. His hooves locked into place as his idiot instincts caused him to buck, startling a muffled gasp from Julip while the armor toppled forward into the glowing soil.

Steel and shattering crystals shrieked together under the tumbling armor, throwing the world beyond his visor into brief chaos.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he rolled onto his back, throwing his foreleg up and between the pincers of the pursuing creature. He was quickly burning out his reserve of apologies today, but it couldn’t be helped. The last thing he wanted was for some scavenger to pry open their armor years later only to find the inspiration for a bawdy bar story that would last generations. “Just--”

Alarms began to light up along his HUD. The structure of the armor was beginning to suffer beneath the crushing force of the scorpion’s claw. Unable to tear himself away, he could only watch as the second pincer probed for a grip further up his foreleg, seeking to shear it off at the joint.

The hardpack beneath his shoulder shuddered, sank, and exploded, sending several tons of power armor flailing through the air. The second radscorpion, unaware of the simplest concept of pack hunting, had no qualms about trying to steal prey from the arachnid still clamped onto his cartwheeling frame. Time slowed as they reached the apex of their tumble, and Roach grappled his hooves around the creature's abdomen as they crumpled into the ground. Even through the armor he could feel the creature’s exoskeleton give way beneath his weight like a rotten egg.

Beneath him, Julip’s breathing was starting to become ragged and uneven. Her breath warmed and chilled the side of his neck, reminding him briefly of his first and only husband who had a delightful habit of leaving a trail of tender kisses down...

Focus, you idiot!

He shoved himself up onto unsteady hooves and inadvertently dodged the second radscorpion’s barbed tail in the process. The rigid hook punched a crater clear through the already ruined carapace of the first creature without an ounce of regard for its failure. As Roach staggered away it wrenched its appendage from its fallen competitor, trailing a slick slurry of translucent venom as it bolted toward him.

He jumped, which wasn’t saying much given the state of the armor, and dropped his hooves onto what he estimated to be the scorpion’s head. Its cluster of beady eyes vanished beneath the dented armor and the creature’s skittering legs went ramrod straight, then slowly curled.

Scanning the irradiated terrain, he couldn’t tell where the last one had gone. For a moment the ground was still. The dust settled. Maybe it had fled or had decided it was safer to hide. Wait for easier prey.

He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the strange yet incredible sensation of Julip clenching, twitching, leaking against him. Somewhere in the back of his brain he knew what she was doing. What he wasn’t going to do.

“Holy shit,” he felt her whispering. “Holy… fucking shit.”

Almost as if on cue, the earth beneath his hind legs began to give way. He leaned forward, lifted them from the collapsing ground and pistoned his hooves backward with enough force to elicit a mechanical whine from the armor’s hydraulics. He felt the satisfying impact of hardened steel meeting scorpion, followed by the startling pop of his cock springing unceremoniously free of Julip's grip.

“Fu-u-uhhhck!” she cried.

His front knees buckled and the armor tipped forward, sending him chin-first into the crystal strewn ground. Simple physics took over from there. Simple, merciless physics.

The rear half of the armor drove forward like a hammer and he speared her like a trout.

A tremor ran through her body that he felt ripple against his belly, culminating in a throaty cry of pleasure and pain. Before he could think to apologize her teeth once again found purchase against his neck and she clamped down, hard.

He bellowed. “QUEEN CHRYSALIS’S EGGHOLE LET GO!”

Rolling onto his side, he bent his neck around her head in a vain attempt to break her grip. She held on like a mare possessed, only releasing him once he was able to get his hooves beneath him and relieve the painful pressure from her furious cervix.

Out of breath and running out of patience, he looked in the direction of the last scorpion and swallowed with relief when he saw it clawing feebly at the cracked soil, failing to grasp the reality of its death. One less thing to worry about, at least for now. At this rate a herd of deathclaws were due to come charging out of some new hold in the ground. Or raiders. Definitely raiders.

Julip’s chest was heaving against his, complicating his thinking. “Is it over?”

He swallowed, trying to concentrate on the barren terrain in front of him. “For now. Just hold still and try not to move. Let me focus.”

She snorted with nervous laughter. “Yeah, let me just add that to my to do list right under cumming all over your freaky-deaky dick.”

He set his jaw and exhaled sharply. “You don’t even know what it is you’re talking about.”

“I felt that thing open up inside me, Roach. I’ve had my roll in the hay with enough stallions to know that qualifies as freaky-fucking-deaky.”

Scoffing, he shook his head as a warm shudder rolled up his spine. “Great,” he murmured, “I get the leftovers.”

“Excuse me?”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, realized that was about as great an idea as headbutting a landmine, and chose to shut it instead. Glaring out into the desolate vista of the aptly named Crystal Alley, he couldn’t decide if he should be pissed off, ashamed or both.

“Look,” he rumbled. “Let’s just call it even.”

A pause. “Fine.”

He sighed. Not too long ago they were laughing at themselves over the mess they’d willingly gone stomping into. He glowered, waiting for nature to run its course and his brain to recall the blood pulsing in his groin so he had a decent chance at thinking straight. As if in protest, he felt himself twitch inside of her, spurred on by some foreign stimulation of her own.

When it happened again, he frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” she stated flatly. After a moment of mutually aggravated silence, she added, “Would it help you finish faster if I had a cock?”

He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t be able to do a whole lot with it if you did. Besides, I’m trying not to finish.”

The last word was barely out of his mouth when it happened again. He twitched violently and felt another half inch of his shaft slide between her hips.

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

Her voice took on a hint of anger. “I’m not doing…” Then she paused. “Are you talking about this?”

The back half of the armor practically jumped off the ground in response. “Yes! Whatever the fuck that was it’s not helping!”

“It’s called winking and it’s classy.”

He blinked, lowered his head and snorted a groaning chuckle.

“Yeah,” she laughed, and he could feel her trying to shake her head against his neck again. “Sorry, it does that on its own. Freaky-deaky pussy.”

He laughed a little more easily this time. It was about as close to a genuine apology they were going to exchange, but it would do. Gradually, he could feel the tension between them break.

“Keep talking,” he murmured. “It helps distract me.”

“Or,” she began, paused, then suggested, “you could always, you know. Finish.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not having intercourse with a mare.”

This time it was her turn to laugh. “Intercourse, wow. I feel so special now. Maybe after you retract from my vagina we can share dirty little stories about all the pretty stallions we knew in the Celestial sense.”

“Okay, yep, I got it the first time. Thanks.”

Julip giggled quietly to herself, sending a series of smooth, gentle squeezes along his buried shaft. “Roach, just fuck me and get it over with. I promise I’m not going to tell anyone. Enclave’s honor.”

“You’re not with the Enclave anymore.”

“And you’re deflecting. I’m serious. This is an offer from a friend who is not going to be happy knowing that you spent the better part of an hour haphazardly jerking yourself off inside of without doing whatever weird shit changelings do when they cross the finish line.”

He frowned, feeling the heat rising through his neck. “I don’t even know what--”

“Roach. You’ve seen feral mongrels before, right?”

Something in his throat went dry. “Sure.”

“Ever see them fuck?”

He blinked.

“Do. That.”