Dust clings to the bedsheets, dry air pouring through the ragged, glassless window. A breath hitches in anticipation, as pale, weathered skin soaks flush with sweat and excitement. I feel the figure beside me stir in excitment, a needy little warbling purr rumbling form her lips. I can feel it too, that nervous tension from a deal well struck. Ten crates of Fury and another half-dozen of Wrath sold off to the contact, and another five thousand caps richer, after costs. A rolling laugh ripples from my lips as they find wonderfully slick skin, my teeth finding that lovely, pronounced ridge of a collarbone of yours. The taste of you is addictive, almost as narcotic as the drugs we peddle.

We're not good people. Not too bad either, we don't rape and pillage and burn down villages now and then. I mean, you might not've done. I had a perilous and misspent youth, now etched across my skin in muscle, and scar and tattoo. Piercings crowd my ear, each one a memory, the more notable the memory, the more carefully placed. A bastard memory from a tribe I can barely begin to guess at who they were. All I know is, once the haze ran off, I was so delirious it felt like I should get pierced somewhere special.

"Fuck, hun." I growl, leaning over. My leg slips between yours, feeling the toned definition of muscle. My hand skirts gently over your stomach, feeling the ridges of delicious abdominal, the slight tickle of fuzz on my fingertips, as I stray below your navel. Feeling hte warmth of you is incredible, a palettable reminder that I'm going to enjoy every fleeting second of contact. "Ten Thousand." I laugh, burying my liops into the hollow of your throat. "What're we going to buy with that?"

I barely hear your response, so enarmoured I am with the feel of you. We could buy a house. Fuck, we could buy a town with soemthing like that. But you know, I don't fuckin' care about the money.

"Hey, lets try something special for this one." I purr, letting the weight of my shaft press against your hip. Since we'd met, I'd gone form a decently appreciable Futa to one hell of a monster, and it seemed like you enjoyed nothing more than changing me, augmenting it. Making me into that much more of a virile fuck-stud for you to enjoy, or unleash.

I get up, sitting down over one thigh, looking down at you, as my knee grinds slightly into somewhere deliciously warm and slick. "What do you want to try this time?" I smile, and reach down, raking nails against your skin. "Or who do you want to try me against this time?"

Okay, kind of a loose prompt here, but a fun one. Drug-runners, bad-asses and general social deviants, our characters have a reputation to uphold. One, a masterful chemist who enjoys mixing all kinds of potent brews and scientifically infeasibly chemicals that make fucking more fun. And a variety of other things.

Me, a now somewhat mosntrous Futa She-Stud with a dick to match, balls taht could cum buckets, and a sordid past of Raider Activities. And now the favored test subject for some of the more fun varieties of your narcotic bliss.

So, can't believe I've gotta say this, but PMs only. Give me a good message too, couplea paragraphs. Flatter me if you want, don't jump right in. Give me an idea what you like, ideas you've got.

And for fucks sake, send me one line, and I'm just gonna ignore and delete.

Anyway, send me a message, and lets see what we can do.