Sex in a Canoe

Mason and Haley moved slowly in the dark as Mason looked for a decent tree to sleep in. Haley was quiet, and walked a little ways away from him, which he didn't like but didn't try to stop. The moon wasn't that bright, however, and after Haley tripped once or twice Mason finally crossed the distance and took her hand. They walked in silence for a little while.

"Did it bother you? Killing him?" she finally asked.

Mason wished he could avoid the conversation, but did his best to think that over. "No. Players are soldiers now. Soldiers kill soldiers. That's just how it is."

"But…why did you kill him?"

"I already said. He was my enemy."

"Was he? He hadn't tried to hurt you. I mean he was pretty vile and…"

"Do I tell you how to be a civilian?" he snapped.

"No," she said quietly.

Mason felt his annoyance build in the silence. How to communicate a lifetime of instinct? Of knowing who was cruel and vindictive and just needed to be stopped? "He was just waiting. Understand? He wanted to kill me and take you, and he was just waiting."

"How do you know?"

Mason snorted, no idea how to explain himself, yet knowing deep in his bones he was right. "Because he was a predator. We know each other. And in this fucked up world I don't leave guys like that at my back. Not anymore."

"Aren't you worried…about the others?"

"No." He took a deep breath, stopped and looked Haley in the eye. "You wanted risk. You wanted a man like me. This is what it looks like. And when I find people who'd kill me just to have you, or people who think others weakness makes them strong, I'm going to end them. Understood? And I don't need or want your permission. So this is the last time we'll talk about it."

She nodded, and he angrily circled the tree he'd chosen for a bed, looking for a good way up. It had thick branches and wasn't easy to climb, which made it ideal.

"I need the vines."

"Oh. OK." She took them from her hidden storage, and he climbed up and tied one to the branch he wanted. If it was just him he'd just tie himself to the tree as he'd done before, but with Haley he decided to make something more comfortable. After a few moments of debate, he decided to build a kind of hammock.

"What are you doing?" Haley eventually called up.

"We're going to sleep in the tree. It's much safer."

"Oh." He heard the concern in her voice, but she'd get over it. He had to make several trips down to get cloth, the bedroll, more vines and some leaves, but when he was finished he had to admit he'd made a pretty damn cozy hammock. The work cleared his mind, and improved his mood. Finally he set up his traps at the bottom of the tree, then helped Haley climb up.

"We should get some sleep," he said, actually tired and still sore from the long day of running and carrying her. Then he stripped down to his boxers and climbed onto the swinging bed. "It's cold tonight. Sorry if you don't want to, but you'll need to share body heat."

Her eyes stared off as she accessed her storage, and like magic her windbreaker and khaki's vanished, leaving her in just a t-shirt and white panties. She crawled into the swing, which pulled them together no matter how they moved or what they intended. Haley didn't seem repulsed by him, at least, hugging herself against his chest. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Mason whispered.

"It's going to get worse. Millions died to make the kinds of governments we had. It's the wild West now. Except with more monsters."

"I know." Haley squeezed him tighter. "It's just different. Seeing it."

"Yeah."

Haley wrapped her arms around him and cuddled more properly, and the soft warmth felt like slipping into a bath.

"Good thing I got you," she said.

"Good thing," he agreed, and squeezed her back.

He could see the shape of her body in the moonlight, and though he wasn't sure exactly how he felt about the results of the day, it seemed not only was he not bothered by killing an asshole like Frank, the mortal risk of such things made him feel…very much alive. That he was young and had a beautiful woman in his arms felt more important to him than some petty argument or whatever nonsense people wasted their time and lives with instead of doing what they wanted. And all he could think was, I could die tomorrow. And if he could die tomorrow, why on earth would he waste his time tonight?

He slid his hand down Haley's back, pushing under her panties to cup her ass.

"I haven't had a bath," she said, and Mason snorted. He brought his other hand to her front, moving under her panties without hesitation to slide his fingers down her sex. She went rigid, and Mason felt his heart skip a beat when he found her wet, shockingly wet.

"I…" Haley dug her fingers into his chest. "Does it make me bad? That it made you turn me on even more?"

"Maybe," Mason answered, his voice husky now, not giving a shit what it made her. "Ever had sex in a hammock?"

She bit her lip as she smiled. "I'm Canadian," she said, as if that explained everything. Mason raised a brow and she rolled her eyes. "We can have sex in a canoe."

He grabbed the back of her panties and pulled them down and off, no idea what that meant.

"You can't rock a canoe side to side." Haley was apparently dead set on this making sense.

Then she was gasping as Mason pulled her on top and put a finger and soon two inside her from beneath, pulling up her shirt and lifting her slightly to suck on her nipples. She was so damn light for him now, and he curled his fingers slightly, using them to control her movements and sliding them back and forth looking for her spot. She clenched around him hard, and he smiled. "Don't move," he ordered, as he wiggled his fingers and played with her clit with the other hand, all the while still sucking on her nipples. She had to hold herself up in the hammock, and before long her arms and legs were shaking before she clenched again and her wetness ran down his hand. Her eyes were mostly closed and rolled back, her head practically lolling, and he had to let go of her clit to hold her up.

Then he pulled down his boxers, lined her up, and pushed inside. She cried out, and he let her fall down to cup her ass with both hands, driving deeper. Something about her made him possessive, controlling. He wanted her to do what he said, to take what he gave, to cum when he allowed. When she came back from her orgasmic stupor, he used one hand to gather and seize her long, blonde hair, pulling her down to meet his eyes while he fucked her.

He loved the feel of her, every inch of her hot, tight, wetness, and how she tried desperately to drive him in even deeper with her hips. She was moaning his name, and he felt completely in control. Of her. Of himself. Of the night. Like this insane new world was somehow truer, better for him than the last. Like this is where he belonged.

He cried out as he came, not caring if something found them, knowing he would kill whatever or whoever it was that threatened him or the woman that belonged to him. He kept pumping as he sprayed his seed inside her, loving that he knew that's what she wanted. She took his hand and sucked his fingers as she writhed on top of him, then collapsed and kissed his ear, his neck, his chin. He twitched inside her and slapped her ass, then kept his hands there, pulling her slightly to feel her soaked pussy slide against him.

"You drive me crazy," she whispered into his ear, and he knew it was true. She was his bonded slave and for that he owned her according to some foreign robot god. She took his cum gladly, excitedly, and for that he owned her by any reasonable law of men. He kissed her and tasted her tongue because it was his, just like the rest of her, then he pulled the bedroll over her back. He let her lay flat and wrap her arms around him with his cock still inside, and closed his eyes to sleep.

* * *

He took her again in a few hours. He said nothing, asked nothing, just licked his fingers and worked her until she moaned and muttered something about American men. Then he was inside her from behind, grinding her into the hammock. She looked absolutely incredible. Her ass bounced with her legs pressed together, just the tucked, swollen lips of her pussy peaking up with his cock splitting them apart. All he could hear was the wet, fleshy sounds of his body ramming into hers, all he could feel was her opening with every thrust, his balls hitting her toned ass. Then she was biting and gripping the fabric of the hammock, moaning and almost mindless from a long, steady pounding. Mason came without knowing if she had. He didn't care. She was his for the taking, for the pleasing or the not pleasing, and she would take his cock obediently for as long or as little as he liked.

Then it was sunrise, and Haley was stroking a leg and a hand up his body, kissing his chest as he woke.

"Mmm," she moaned with her eyes closed. "Good morning."

He let her writhe and touch him with a sigh.

"I think I'll fuck you again while you cook."

She practically leapt out of the hammock. Then they were on the ground and readying a fire, with venison sausage sizzling in a pan, and water boiling for coffee while Mason bent Haley over a literal barrel and thrust inside. "No cumming," he told her, "you just take mine."

She was half wrapped over the barrel and helpless, moaning as he pulled her legs apart and rammed her already red and swollen pussy with merciless abandon. He'd intended to cum quickly but loved the sight of her naked and taking his full length in the morning light, her little asshole clenching, and also his if he wanted. When she was crying out obvious French curses and saying 'I can't, I can't, he released for a final time, spraying whatever was left in his balls in a series of spasms. When he let her up she was dripping his seed down her already wet thighs, her body a pattern of red lines from getting fucked most of the night.

"I didn't cum, master," she said with a visible tremble, and Mason pulled her in for an intimate kiss.

"Good girl. I like you filthy and covered in my cum, but maybe you should have a bath."

She nodded happily and placed the tub by the fire, climbing in with an audible sigh. Mason knelt by her side and helped wash her slowly, enjoying her groans and noises of pleasure.

"We haven't even found the ocean," he said, and Haley smiled.

"I'm not sure I'll survive if we do."

He leaned on the edge of the tub, and stroked her face. She opened her big, blue eyes and looked into his.

"Thanks again for saving me."

"My literal pleasure."

She giggled, and she was so adorable and sexy he wanted to reward her, working his hands down to her breasts, and between her legs, to pleasure her in slow, gentle strokes. He could tell she was sore and sensitive, so he took his time and kept it slow, and by the time he could smell burnt sausage she was clutching the edge of the tub and flushing as she cried out and came. She panted and just breathed as the burning went to char, then licked her lips and rolled her eyes as she tried to open them.

"This job as great benefits."

Mason chuckled, then left her to relax as he fixed more food and made them coffee. By the time she'd dressed and removed most of their tools and vines and bedding back to storage, Mason gave her a quick hug and frowned.

"Aren't you worried about getting pregnant?"

Haley snorted. "If we're both alive in nine months, I think we'll call it a win."

"Good point." Mason picked up the last few loops of vine and rubbed his chin as he thought of the hammock.

"Anyway," Haley grinned. "It gives me more experience to, um, take it inside."

Mason nearly choked. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." She laughed. "I leveled again after the barrel." Her face went slightly pink at the memory. "I guess it wants us to make lots of babies."

"Give out magic powers," Mason shook his head. "Why didn't the government think of that. Well, it'll probably help with the birth rate. Also, I think I'm going to make you a harness."

"You're going to make me a what?"

Mason spent the next several minutes creating a kind of rope swing for Haley to sit on as he carried her. It was crude and not that comfortable, but would help strap her in and even out the pressure and rubbing a bit around her body. They tried it out, and Haley seemed pleased, so they carried on back through the forest, with Mason moving at inhuman speed.

"What happens when we find your brother?" Haley asked him a little while later.

"We go somewhere safe." Mason shrugged. "We build levels so we can handle anything. Why, what do you think?"

"Well," Haley didn't quite meet his eyes. "Like I said, this is…a game, with people like you competing against whatever this thing throws at you. And until we make some kind of…organized resistance, I don't think it ends."

"Not my problem."

"But I think it is, patron, master," she smiled into his neck and wrapped herself around his shoulders. "Because if you keep leveling like you are, I think you'll be…well, one of the main players. And I think in this new world, that makes you, um, sort of like a king."

Mason frowned, not liking the truth he detected in her words.

"I don't want to be a king. But Blake would love it. We'll just give him the crown, he'll know what to do."

Haley nodded. "That might work. But…he'll need to be powerful. He can't just rely on you."

Mason wasn't sure about that. But it wasn't impossible. Blake was very smart, very charismatic. Back in the old world he was on track to be a CEO, or anyway someone important. He was the one with a bright future, the one with plans and ambition, the will and the tools to bring people together for some grand project.

"Blake was always the one to watch," he said quietly. "I was just his weird brother. Everyone loved him, and so did I." He smiled. "I just loved him first."

"You have to be careful," Haley said, and Mason gave her a questioning glance. "Hearing my world-beating, monster killing badass man say such mushy things is making me wet. And I can't take another round."

Mason grinned, unable to feel anything but pleased that a woman couldn't handle any more of him.

"Hold on," he said. "Let's burn off some of that sexual energy." He activated Aspect of the Cheetah, and ran.