Chapter Text
The thumping continued well past it should have, and the sounds. Bollocks, but the sounds they made were the worst of it. It wasn’t that they were loud, not really, but the Vault was made of stone and steel beams interlaced with glass. Every sodding noise echoed twice as loud as it was meant to. So, in turn, as demanded by the laws of sonic vibrations, Toast could hear her sister fornicating with the Warboy all night and the sky was going blue now…morning was on it’s way in.
They’d been at it a long while.
Hmmnnn…ah-h!
Toast’s left eye twitched and she pursed her lips together, glaring at the bath she was sunken down in. The steam only covered up the real reason her cheeks were flushed. It felt wrong, but she could have just left and slept in the halls with the Warpups. Instead she stayed, listening despite the fact that somewhere within the minor waves of arousal, she was indeed disgusted. She’d never say that though, her disdain for the Warboy Nux was clear at times - too clear sometimes - but he made her sister happy.
Mmnn…
Very happy.
When the Vault went quiet Toast barely noticed it, her fingers had found their way between her thighs again, not for the first time. And she was momentarily busy, lost, concentrating on the elusive feeling of a completion she’d yet to experience. But she knew Capable had found it, knew it was why she’d been with the Warboy nearly every night since poor Cheedo had found them macking on each other in his new vehicle...in plain sight of the Warpups the poor girl had been touring through the garages.
Her lip curled at the thought of her sister, much too motherly at times, snogging all over the Warboy in plain sight of everyone - not an ounce of shame to be had. Inside her body her fingers prodded and a spike of pleasure made her jerk - water splashing - and then-
Capable’s door opened with a bang and she jerked around. The Warboy grinned from ear to ear, bare chested and sweaty with her sister laughing in his arms, leaning in to kiss his cheek like they were the only ones left in the wasteland.
Quickly Toast pulled away from herself, sinking further into the water despite the fact it ran clear, but the Warboy never looked at her any way else but in acknowledgment. In fact, she’d have thought him incapable of it if she hadn’t witnessed him giving goo-goo eyes to her sister since the Road. Now they were going at it like something out of the word burgers. Dumb, romantic notions.
“Sorry,” the Warboy said seeing the look on her face, still all grins. She gave them both the stink eye, sinking chin deep into the steamy water.
“Mind if me and Nux join you?”
“I was just leaving,” she bit.
“Tell your Warboy to turn around and I’ll leave you both to it,” she managed, not sounding bitter at all. Nux nodded like his head might fall off and twisted around with Capable, sharp enough she made a winded sound and giggled. Since when had her sister ever made those noises before the Warboy came along?
When had she, Toast, ever giggled? There wasn’t a memory of it, not really. She’d laughed at people before, but it had never been out of enjoyment, more at her own insulting amusement. She slid out of the bath, ignoring the way the water slid down her body - the way it teased her annoyingly. If she had a Warboy of her own there would be no reason for her body to be so strung out - if she…
“Hey, Warboy - Nux,” she called, idly tying a knot around her chest, sliding on layers of muddy-colored fabrics.
“Sister Toast.” Still the Warboy didn’t turn around, he seemed too preoccupied with Capable rubbing her nose on the light stubble growing on his jaw - she saw his arms tighten around her, letting her settle closer against him. He’d filled out since the Road...the muscles in his back were dense and corded. His shoulders didn’t quiver while he held her sister. He was strong, most of them were strong now and not like they were before. They were healthy, or getting there at least.
“What was that Warboy you were visiting called?”
“Togs?”
“No, the one with the burns.” She’d not gotten a look at him, but she remembered how Nux talked about him, fondly - like she would of her sisters.
“Slit, my Lancer,” there was too many smiles in the Warboy’s voice nowadays. Too much happiness and pleasure - it made Toast’s lip curl as she wrapped a metal-dimpled shawl over her head, knotting it loose under her chin.
“That one…” she whispered, wondering how bad the burns were and if they’d peeled and scarred yet.
She’d find out at any rate.
“I’m done,” she called, trying to ignore their breathy sounds and the sudden, eager rustle and sag of fabric. As soon as they hit the water, laughing, she huffed and made her way outside the Vault, leaving behind two Puppies to their water fight.
Waste of good bath water, if anyone asked her.
How was it possible for them to be so bloody giddy after a night like this? They were nothing but smiles, touches and laughs. Pointless. Toast couldn’t even really see how they could derive so much pleasure from each other either. But it was unmistakable that they did, somehow, and that at least sparked her interest.
She didn’t exactly avoid the dregs of the Citadel, where the Warboys kept themselves, she just didn’t have a reason to go there. It was the half of home she ignored easily, keeping busy with other things like the word burgers and her designs. It never occurred to her that she might see her schematics made real in steel and guzzoline if she ventured there. It never once crossed her mind, not until she found herself slinging an SKS Rifle over her shoulder, feeling her inner thighs rub against something puffy and swollen as she made her way down the stone spirals. She could use that as an excuse if any of the Warboys had the bollocks to ask her what her purpose was. Hot rods, she’d warn.They didn’t even dare look at her when she crossed their paths though, so maybe an excuse would be pointless.
A Milk Mother had to direct her when she found herself turned around, ascending the same stairwell she’d descended minutes ago. The dark hand of the women was soft when it touched her bare shoulder, steering her to a narrow corridor that opened into a network of pits and ladders.
Hot rods were sparking in fits of yellow and orange. The sounds were heavy and the stink of musky Warboys and grease was so strong she had to hold herself against the wall to stop from buckling. Her head dizzy.
It wasn’t hard to grow used to the smell, and the slight buzz in her head that followed it made her heart pound in something like excitement. Toast swallowed a lump in her throat at the sight of all the Warboys, some of them shoving Warpups into engine blocks with sharp long tools - wearing oversized goggles and dripping white sweat. There was no end to the ordered chaos.
Tunnels opened up to more holes where a vehicle was being worked on, or water was being siphoned out of stone by tubes and cables, dripping down to form a deadly slick with the guzzoline and grease. Fractures of light filtered down from the hydroponics where she didn’t dare cross.
True to her assumptions none of the Warboys spoke to her, but many of them looked, stared openly and one even grinned at her, flicking a forked-tongue like a poised snake. Toast avoided that one, hissing once when he tried to follow her, leering.
Some tunnels had signs, begging to question if they could even read. But then she remembered they worked on hot rods and understanding the schematics would be impossible without some knowledge of their letters.
She hugged her SKS between breast and arm when a Warboy stopped to watch her, standing in the throng of bodies making their ways to and fro. A heavy, deep breath was all she needed to walk up to him, easing around busy Warboys and Warpups.
“I’m looking for Slit, you know ‘im?” she asked, throwing her voice like a brittle lance, watching the Warboys dirty face open like a word burger. He was shocked, surprised and maybe scared she had spoken to him. This she could handle - this made her lips turn wry and her heart ease. If they could fear her it would make her visits - if they became frequent - much easier. This Slit of Nux’s better have been worth the grim.
“Lizard King...yea, Sister. He goes upside for the Warpups. Trainin’ in the mornings...I can lead you,” when she nodded the fear drained from his face, and a grin broke out, making his lips look too much like skeletons teeth, but she bit her tongue to hold in anything like an insult and let him lead her up.
“Slit’s one of them immortals, like Nux. No one touches em’ anymore!” the Warboy said, stepping on the right patch of dry ground without looking, peering back at her when she hissed - trying her best to keep up with his wider strides and sure-footing. Toast didn’t know these tunnels, but this Warboy did, and despite his good intentions he wasn’t slow on her behalf. She had to be quick, but careful.
“Is that right?” she humored, looking at her feet and the ground, catching the Warboys back every other step.
“More so a’ Lizard King than before - scales now to match his cold blood,” his voice was painful, droll and thick like old grease, but Toast wasn’t really listening - it was hard when the ground became a long puddle, something like metal shavings working through the toes of her thongs. She paid attention to him as best she could through it, holding back a curse when she stepped in something squishy - like wet ashe.
“Through here,” he urged, waving her in, near bouncing on his feet.
She frowned, picking up her loose fabrics to avoid the wet filth. Through a wide, rock and steel support opening was a carved dome, lined with metal weaves. It was huge, bigger than the first pit she saw. A cut hole in the top bathed the dome in dim morning light, while gas lanterns hung in the metal thatches along the walls. It was filled with older Warpups and Warboys, many of them suspended in cables from the ceilings; long poles with weights held in their hands.
A training room then, she figured, eyes racing around the place. Thin beams were scattered around, many Warboys yelling for the smallest one to race along them, to not fall.
Toast searched for a Warboy covered in scales, but when her guide pointed up to a muscled Warboy lifting a Warpup into a harness, she couldn’t make out any scales, just layers of white war paint and a grease stained forehead. But as she watched closer, after Slit strapped the Pup in and slid down the rocky slope to splash in a puddle of water, she could make out the burns.
Her Warboy guide whistled then, a broken and sporadic sound, that made her grimace. She saw Slit’s attention immediately latch onto them and his eyes...or eye, land on her hard. His broken mouth didn’t grin, didn’t move - just his lone, bloody eye shifted on her. Toast didn’t like it at first, but the closer he came, nimble on his feet despite the slippery ground, the less she hated it and the more she craved it.
This Warboy would do just fine, and if Nux liked him so much - well...the danger she could face felt miniscule in his relation to her sister’s puppy.
“Sister asked of you,” her guide explained, pointing to her with a black thumb. So he was like Nux in that respect, but this Warboy Slit had pale fingers, exposed through black gloves and metal braces - the hands of a Lancer not a Black Thumb.
Toast wondered if that would affect his ability with his fingers. Nux, based on the sounds Capable made, had dextrous fingers. Already Toast could feel herself second guessing her plan, but then...he spoke and she felt her insides hold tight.
“What’s a Toast want?” he grumbled - the grease on his forehead only pronounced the dip of his eyebrows harder, making his eye shine dark at her. This Warboy was tall too, as tall as Nux but heavier in the shoulders, arms thicker and covered in protruding veins. She ran her eyes down him, noting the breadth of his chest, hard slope of his abdomen and tapered hips. His pants were tighter than Nux’s, tighter than most of the Warboys. Better for him to balance on the back of a hot rod she assumed...but they also exposed more of him than she’d expected.
She swallowed, suddenly nervous - sweating too. These Warboys made her realize how small she was, but this one took it to another extreme. It was hard to shake off the feeling of being nothing more than a Warpup when he had to look so far down at her. He’d be better on his knees, but that idea made her clenched muscles feel like they were pulses with liquid heat.
Despite her nerves and the quiver in her lips she forced herself to smirk, pitting his expression back on him before she reach out to take his wrist, “You,” she whispered.