Work Text:
Anxiety. Anxiety and static was all you could feel as you relayed into the airport. You’d thought over the plans a million times in your head but something inside of you was gnawing. For a moment, your first move was to grip the collar of your clothing to affirm that you were still in once piece.
After dealing with the Railroad, you were surrounded by death. You gripped your gun. You wanted to work out a peaceful situation and you wanted everyone to live- but you knew that wasn’t an option. Shaun had ordered the Brotherhood’s eradication. It was oddly peaceful in the secluded space, you looked on the horizon to the Prydwen where Brotherhood soldiers were operating quite normally, just another day, just their last minutes.
It’d been long enough. You pulled yourself together and began to head out. Neither the turrets or knights had noticed you yet, but just when you thought you could sneak your way through it all, a laser struck you from behind, searing pain jolting you up.
With quick reflexes you aimed your gun and fired a few well placed shots into the offender’s head before ducking behind a post. It was at that point you wondered why the Institute hadn’t sent you in with anything. You would have worked with anything, a courser, a gen two synth, a fucking dead body would be a useful shield, even. You knew that as soon as you got to your first goal, the reinforcements would come in. Even then, you were still on your own, just you versus the people who let you into their arms.
Remembering that you were given those Synth Relay grenades, you chucked one towards the biggest group of people. Out came...a gen one Synth, that was promptly disintegrated by a scribe.
You went with a regular grenade instead, which seemed to do a lot more damage. It killed a few initiates, but the knights and big guys in power armor were still there. You didn’t have the firepower to deal with all of them, so you tried to run past and hide. A few more lasers pierced your skin and caused you to suck in air, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.
You pressed yourself against a stone pillar, heart throbbing in your chest.
It was all so silent for a second.
“There he is!” someone yelled. Your moment of respite had fallen and you were now ducking past them again. You fired a few more stray shots that may or may not have hit someone.
In a last ditch effort to find a place to gather your thoughts, you ducked into what looked like a storage room, slamming the door and sliding down it. You slumped over, panting with fear and pain. After resting for a few minutes, the stinging in your hand became overt. You weren’t even aware you were shot in the hand, but you certainly were. The laser burned a clean hole through it, and all of the moving you were doing had opened the wound, causing a steady drip of blood.
You reached behind you to grab a Stimpak from your bag. You pressed it into your h-....where was the bag. Panicked, you scrambled around the room in an attempt to find it. Shit shit shit shit. You peeked outside and sure enough, there it was. With 4 Knights in full power armor surrounding it.
The pain in your hand wasn’t even a concern anymore- that had all your weapons, your supplies, the only memories of your goddamn wife that you had.
But you couldn’t. You knew as soon as you opened that door your ass would be blasted so far through your head, it would turn the moon cherry pie red.
So you pressed on, all you had was a gun. The storage room was big and long, getting progressively narrow. There weren’t any supplies that could assist you, just glue and duct tape (Obviously the Brotherhood’s favorite for making their weapons).
You were facing a dead end, a wall.
You hadn’t locked the door behind you. This came to your attention when loud steps began approaching. FUCK.
Before it got too close, you turned around to see a Brotherhood soldier in front of you, their gun at the hip. Unable to formulate sentences, you trembled with your shitty pistol and stammered at them.
“You thought you could just show your face here again?”
“D-Danse?”
The Paladin had his helmet on, but you could feel his eyes tearing you up, “Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare,” his gun raised, “We welcomed you. We HELPED you, and…” he turned his head back, “And you not only betray our trust, but come in here with SYNTHS.”
Danse snarled and held his rifle up to your face, so close you could still feel heat coming off of the muzzle.
“Danse listen, please, the Institute demands you be er-”
“I know that the god damn Institute wants to destroy us. It shouldn’t be you helping them,” he took the gun down again, why didn’t he shoot? He had you cornered, “I...I recommended you. I took you under my wing and gave you my personal gun and…” he looked up, his voice grim, “And that’s on my shoulders now. I’m not going to be a Paladin anymore, I know that for certain, but I might avoid getting kicked out of the Brotherhood if I bring you to Maxson myself.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to any of this, you didn’t want to kill them, any of them. Palming your non injured hand, you began to sweat and breathe hard. Hissing filled the air as Danse exited his power armor. He grabbed the gun on his way out and approached you.
“But you know, I still might get kicked out. In that case, I want to punish you personally. Make you pay for all the wrongdoings you’ve committed. This was my duty, my purpose, the Brotherhood. And you, you’ve undone all of that.”
“Danse please, I c-”
Yet again, he didn’t let you finish, jabbing his gun hard into your stomach. It was so forceful that it made you keel over onto your knees.
“I don’t want to hear my name coming out of your mouth, not ever again,” he pressed the muzzle of his rifle against your forehead, pushing you down harder, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you, I want to see you suffer.”
You scanned his face, looking for a fault, a weakness of some sort for you to exploit- but you found nothing. All you could tell is that he was thinking, staring into your eyes with a gun to your head. He gripped the rifle tight in one hand while lowering the other to his uniform. Grabbing the zipper, he pulled it all the way down. Only then did you realize that at that point, your head was very, very near to his crotch.
Danse moved his hand to his underwear and began palming at his bulge, all the while his face remaining deadpan. He reached into his boxers and pulled out his dick, still staring you straight in the face.
“Suck it. If you bite I will shoot,” he demanded. You were frozen in shock, so he nudged the rifle harder into your face, “NOW.”
Cautiously, you scooted forwards and opened your mouth, trying to keep eye contact with Danse. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and licked a few times. You noticed his breathing had changed, it was softer, but still firm. He looked to be enjoying it, so you slid your head downwards, moving your mouth up and down his shaft while dragging your tongue along. A small bit of drool had escaped your lips and dripped down onto the floor.
Maybe it was because you were too slow, or maybe it was because it looked like you were too content, but Danse grabbed your hair in his free hand and jerked you further onto his cock with a grunt. You could feel it fucking twitching in your throat.
You wanted so badly to make a snide comment about how little sex he must have to be this eager, but it sounded like an inappropriate time. Instead you just held yourself together, squinting and trying not to choke. That was difficult, because every time you started to get accustomed to it, he pulled you more and more.
By then, he wasn’t even holding the gun to you. His face had begun to redden, he was completely focused on you. You were having trouble breathing and tried to pull off of him, but he was quick to drop the rifle, using both of his hands to aggressively grip the back of your head and jam the rest of his dick down your throat. Immediately, you panicked and begun to writhe.
He held that for about five seconds before throwing you off of him. You hit the ground, head spinning. Danse lifted a leg and slammed his foot down on your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“Oh god oh god,” you heaved, your head leaning back.
He pressed harder, you felt your ribs bend, you didn’t know how to make him stop. Breathlessly, you flailed your arms up at him, grasping onto his leg in an effort to get him off. The pressure got harder, and eventually you couldn’t take it. Your vision got spotty and everything began to cut out.
You were still conscious though, on the brink of passing out. When you got your bearings again, you were still on the floor, but Danse was on top of you with his hands gripped around your throat. Looking down, you noticed that he’d also stripped your bottoms.
You thought that maybe Danse was giving you a moment to register what was going on, just staring and waiting for you to put it all together. He gripped his hands tighter around your neck, though not hard enough to cut off all air supply.
You tensed when he started moving you, raising your hips so you were on your back, propped up against the wall with your legs spread. You didn’t have the words to react. He rubbed his cock on your ass a few times before pushing in- much gentler than you were expecting.
The sudden oxygen rushing to your brain mixed with the feeling of Danse inside of you caused you to shudder and let out an uncertain moan. He tightened his grip again and started rolling his hips into you, his gaze still steady. He was a big man, much bigger than you, completely overshadowing you.
You were completely at his mercy, and he had very little of it. Slowly, he put more pressure on your throat and you felt reality slip. Your mouth gaped open and your mind got fuzzy, blackness creeping in as you were deprived of air again.
When you came to, his hands were on your shoulders, pressing you roughly to the ground as he thrusted. At that point a small pool of blood had formed underneath you, and you weren’t sure if it was blood from your hand or somewhere else. It didn’t matter at that point, you suppose.
For just a beat, it almost felt blissful. He wasn’t hurting you in that particular moment, and looked to just be focusing on the sex. Though, something in him realized that too, as he roughly slammed into you, cock burling deep into you and eliciting a scream. To shut you up, he started choking again. All that came out was sputters and brief sobs as your consciousness was slowly robbed from you.
And then it was over. He pulled out and shot his cum onto your thighs. There was a lot of it, and you were hyper aware of every drop that touched you. Now you definitely knew where the blood was coming from.
There was silence, you both stared at each other, panting, eyes lidded. Danse zipped his suit back up and stood, looking at you somberly.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be... happy. ”
Danse regarded your body, pathetically sprawled out, covered in your own blood and his cum, shallowly breathing. He knelt down, grabbing the rifle again.
“If I don’t see you again, good riddance,” he turned his gun around so the butt of it was facing you, “And...goodbye.”
With a quick movement, he knocked the gun against your head.