falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Tags: Fluff
Characters: Arcade, M!Courier
Relationship: Slash
Summary: Alexei, a well known man for his brains, hides a very shocking fact. Arcade discovers it.

A bit late to your prompt but here it is! eue More to come at a later date.
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The sun is setting over the horizon as a morally questionable Courier lounges beside an equally morally questionably scientist. Rex is sprawled out over both of their laps--something Arcade is less than thrilled about but if he woke Rex it would anger the smaller man.

They were doing a simple review, Arcade had been imparting some basic Latin lessons to the boy and the lesson was going swimmingly until a suspicious break in their speaking.

"Alexei?" Arcade shifted very slowly, turning his wide chest over to the brown haired man, who currently took it upon himself to mentally dissect the chemical formula of the Nuka-Cola in his hand by merely staring at it.

"Alexei!" A bit more insistent, the boy jumped and Rex huffed loudly as he was ushered away by the callused and bruised hands of the aforementioned male. He took a quick swig of his drink, doubting he even tasted the acidic burn down his throat. "Yeah Arcade?" Alexei looked over with a strained face, feigning calmness as if he hadn't just completely left their conversation hanging.

"I said to try reading the inscription of the bottle in Latin." A simple request, as he was picking up on the language as quickly as he expected the boy to.

"You know what? I'm a bit tuckered out sweetheart. Can we sleep? A courier should always make full use of the daylight!" A lagging response, Arcade nodded and stood. When he took Alexei's hand in his own he slipped his fingers in the grasp to get a sample of his pulse. 70 in thirty seconds. That's 140 a minute, elated pulse.

But he decided that was a question better left for another day. Another time, when the young man wasn't clinging his arm so warmly and lovingly.
-------

It was a week after the first incident, Arcade nearly forgetting it along with himself as he followed the young man through a slaughter of Fiends. He never liked this work, the side of him trained in labs wanted to believe he could sway them all into rehabilitation though the side of him that wandered the Wastes knew that the infection had to be cut off before it spread.

There were only a few left in a small trailer, surrounded by feral dogs that Alexei took out quickly through the green hue of a scope. There was a surge of relief in Alexei that he left Rex with The King, the dog had a bad habit of plowing into hordes of enemies without restraint.

"Arcade. A few of them are trying to ambush out right flank. Toss some dynamite." All business as he breathed evenly and fired a few more shots. The cement under his palms scratched at his hands as he retrieves the sticks from the pack and lit the match.

Three seconds, he breathed. Alexei had taught him in order to make sure it isn't passed back you have to hold them (fucking lit dynamite sticks) for three seconds to counter the delay. He tossed them quickly, it had been probably more like two seconds based on how Alexei was frowning but Arcade isn't in the business of blowing either of them up.

The Fiends see the sticks coming but have no time to counter them, one of them completely missing the targets but the other close enough to wound the three severely.

"Got it."
"Good, now the fun part. Who get's to do the beheading?" Alexei moved from the prone position onto his heels as he cradles the rifle against his chest. Something about the light shining in his black eyes reminded Arcade of the night before.

"I have an idea, if you can spell 'lieutenant' then I'll do it."

As he expected he received a raised brow in response. They boy's fingers playing with the safety on the rifle in his usual nervous fashion. Something that regularly terrified just about everyone but the scientist.

"Why does that matter? Here, if you're going to wimp out on it I can." He pushed the rifle into Arcade's chest and stood up to walk down the dangerously floating stairs. But he was pursued and turned quickly. "Amuse me Alex?"

"...L-I-Y." Arcade made the mistake of showing his curiosity on his face and Alexei yanked himself out of the blonde's hold to scurry off to the bodies.

He lifted a dropped machete to hack quite furiously at Cook-Cook's neck.

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For the next few weeks Alexei seemed to be on guard around him, understandably so since Arcade's gentle prodding brought on a valid suspicion. Though it was countered in a few key points.

First, he was a courier, how does someone who has to read directions, delivery orders, and road signs not have the ability to read?

Secondly, he used his Pip-Boy rather religiously. Which was something else he'd have to read to understand.

And thirdly, Alexei was no ditz. He could easily brew up anything with a simple chemistry kit and the bare minimum of supplies (the boy made a gun that used Legion currency as ammo for Christ's sake).

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Got to get to work. Stupid character limit screwed me on that first bit!

I can't wait for more :D

Ugh so excited already, a!a, fabulous opening and the latest part gave me chills.

[A/N **awkward coughing** I can't believe I'm writing this]

Boone regarded the Courier with a long, flickering gaze from behind his glasses. They were trekking through the most barren, dead ugly stretch of the Mojave he’d seen in a long time. Their water supply was low, and the food supply had already been stretched further than a desert cactus’ shadow at sundown. There was a good chance that they’d die in the unforgiving bosom of the Mojave. All because the Courier swore she knew a shortcut back to Mojave Outpost. After all, damn the map. It’s not like anybody took the trouble to draw it for a reason, or anything.

Boone made a small sound deep in his throat as he watched the Courier walking ahead of him. He stared at the back of the Courier’s neck and drug his feet along the hard packed dirt beneath him mechanically. Boone’s fingers twitched towards the pistol he kept at his side, betraying the feelings that he was denying to himself in his head. He wanted to kill this bitch.

Everything was fine before she came along. Boone had settled into a little routine that suited him fine after the death of his wife. Spend his nights standing watch for Novac, get off shift around dawn, go back to his hotel room, drink till he passed out, get up around midnight and repeat. Maybe every once in awhile he’d help Jeannie May out with some repairs and get a good meal in him for once, and maybe he’d play a hand of Caravan with the occasional wanderer, but drinking himself to death suited him just fine. Each day melted into the next, and after awhile it didn’t even hurt anymore to look at Carla’s hairbrush sitting on the dresser or to run his fingers over her dresses that still hung in the closet.

Then this Courier comes to town poking her nose in everybody’s business. Says she’s looking for a hood named Benny. She started poking around Novac, asking personal questions. Boone didn’t understand what this woman’s business had to do with him, and he brushed her off—told her to keep her tits in her own damn business, but the Courier wasn’t put off. Boone got tired of telling her ten different ways to fuck off and eventually, he’d sit there and listen to what she had to say. And it was strangely appealing. This little nobody woman wove him a story, one of perfect, cold blooded revenge that would satiate the crying in his soul. Said she knew just who sold his wife to the Legion, and she’d tell him as soon as she found the proof. Boone felt his pulse quicken as he listened to her during those long nights guarding Novac. With the only light coming from the moon and the glowing embers of the cigarettes they chain smoked, it seemed more like a ghost story than a plot to murder.

The Courier came to him one night and threw a thick stack of papers in his lap. “What’s this?” Boone asked. “Just read it,” the Courier responded, looking off into the distance. He shuffled the papers into a tidy stack and read. Bill of slave sale. Single female with child for the sum of 1500 caps to Jeannie May Crawford. Unbidden, Boone’s hands crumpled the paper and he bolted out of his chair. If the Courier hadn’t grabbed his arm and stopped him, Boone would have thudded down the stairs, two at a time and burst out into the gloomy Mojave. He would have dragged that cunt Jeannie May out of her bed by the hair and executed her in the hotel courtyard. Boone pulled against the Courier’s grasp, and she responded by tightening it and moving her lips close to his ear. “Let me help you. I’ll lure her out into the open and you can put a bullet in her head just like you had to do to Carla. A little down the road we’ll do the same to Caesar. Deal?” Deal.

Some deal it was, alright. Out in the fresh air, making himself useful again, Boone slowly felt his spirits lift. They were doing some good with the NCR and it felt damn fine to be a part of it. For the first time in a long time, Boone started making plans for the future. Well, once you start making plans for the future you might as well give up the surly act and admit that you’re gonna keep on living. Boone picked a great time to figure out he was willing to keep on living—just in time to die a horrible death in the desert.

Back to the Courier walking in front of him, her midriff bared in an effort to keep cool. Their armor had been abandoned long ago to lighten the load. Boone had a sudden hatred for the tanned flesh of her back. Why did they always have to do things her way? Two days to Mojave Outpost had they followed the map. Two days. This so called shortcut of theirs had already cost them FIVE days and would probably soon cost them their life. Boone felt his eyelid tick as he savored his anger, and he pressed his chapped lips together in a thin line.

Suddenly, the Courier stopped dead in her tracks. “Boone,” she said after a moment, “Hand me your rifle, quick!” Boone just stared at her dumbly, too tired and angry to comprehend what she had just asked. With a haughty look of exasperation, the Courier began tugging at the rifle slung across Boone’s back. Numbly, he raised his hands to let her take it off, like a child who still has to have his clothes changed for him. She raised the rifle and peered down the scope into the distance. Dully, Boone looked in the same general direction, but he couldn’t see anything more than cacti and shimmering air.

“A building,” the Courier said in a low tone laced with hope. “God, Boone, I think it’s a building. Please, please don’t let me be imagining things!”

XxXxX

It was a gas station, crumbling and whitewashed by the sun. The Courier tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustration and desperation boiling over, she rammed the door with her shoulder once, twice, until the dry-rotted wood cracked around the hinges and she was able to push the door down. They entered the building, and they were white blinded as they exited the harsh desert sun and entered the gloom. Boone’s eyes adjusted first thanks to his sunglasses, and blinking rapidly, he tried to dispel the last of the white sun spots clouding his vision. As he surveyed the interior he swallowed with a dry click. He might be batshit crazy from the dehydration and exhaustion, or they may be standing in a fully stocked gas station convenience store. He took two steps forward with wooden legs and reached out to touch a can setting upon the shelf. The metal felt cool underneath of his fingertips—and most importantly, real.

Both Boone and the Courier wasted no time or words in getting jars and packets open and stuffing their face.

XxXxX

Sometime later, Boone and the Courier sat in the gloom of the store, resting. The last of the day was fading into the horizon and the turgid air of the Mojave was beginning to cool and lighten now that it was free from the sun. The Courier laughed suddenly. Boone turned to look at her as she sat laughing on the counter. “Had you worried there, didn’t I?” she said in a light manner. “You thought we were done for. Admit it. I’ll take my apology now, Boone.”

“You almost got us killed.”

“But I spotted the station. I saved us,” she pointed out.

“We wouldn’t have needed saving if you’d have just followed the map,” Boone said testily. The Courier shrugged her shoulders as if that were a moot point.

“So no thank you then? How ungrateful, Boone. You’d have missed this place by a mile if I hadn’t been here. And probably died in the desert to boot.” Boone didn’t think about getting up, grabbing the Courier by the front of her shirt, and pinning her against the wall, but somehow he found himself doing all of those things with lightening quick speed. The Courier squeaked as the breath was knocked out of her. Boone had her pinned with his forearm across her windpipe and he didn’t even consider stopping the gentle pressure he was applying. The only thing he felt right now was satisfaction at having shut her the hell up.

“You selfish bitch, you almost got us killed,” he growled. The Courier looked back at him with wide eyes.“Let… go…” she croaked, weakly shoving against his chest in a pitiful effort to dislodge him. In a flash moment of clarity, Boone wondered what the hell he was doing, and what the hell had gotten into him. He let her go, and started with an apology on his lips before the Courier turned on him, kneeing him almost in the groin. Boone dropped to the ground instinctively, worried at the close call. The Courier used this to her advantage and kicked Boone in the back viciously. “The hell you think you’re doing you sack of shit? I should put a bullet in your brain for putting a hand on me.”

The anger was back in a flash, burning at Boone’s chest. He scrambled to his knees and launched himself at the Courier, crashing into her legs and bringing her down with a corporeal thump. She exhaled in a forceful, sickening whoosh as the air was knocked out of her lungs for the second time. Boone scrambled on top of her and pinned the Courier’s wrists down as she gasped for air. “Pig,” she gasped out. Boone could feel her sides heave in between his thighs as he straddled her. He could feel himself panting hard as well.

The Courier struggled weakly beneath him as she tried to regain her breath. Once she had a moment to rest, however, her squirming and bucking became more vicious. Boone pressed more of his weight on her in response. The Courier still struggled beneath him, though now she had enough of her breath back to make feral shrieks and yell threats at him. Still, she could not dislodge herself and Boone was enjoying the power he felt in holding her down.

“Not in control now,” Boone taunted at her. Their faces were only inches apart, and the Courier chose to spit in Boone’s face in response. Boone’s eye ticked again as he felt his anger swell. How dare she? Who the hell did she think she was to treat him with indignity, even when she was at such an obvious disadvantage? He’d teach her a lesson.

Gathering both her wrists in one hand, Boone used his free hand to undo his belt. He used the black leather belt to bind her wrists snuggly, and he tied the end to a heavy, metal magazine rack by the door. After this was done, Boone sat back on the Courier’s hips dully, thinking of his next move.
[A/N TBC soon!]

I, for one, am super glad you've come out of retirement to share your fic with us. Nastiness has no place here, unless by nasty you mean 'freqnasty' and by 'freqnasty' you mean 'everyone rides the Gannon Cannon'.

It might take a little while, but I'm on it. -pops collar-

Quick question for OP: Would you mind F!LW instead of F!Courier?

Characters: F!Courier, O'Hanrahan
Sorry for constantly added tagges, Mods!
-

No boys could make the courier feel like a swooning school girl like country boys could. And there was no cuter country boy in all of New Vegas then Private O'Hanrahan. Out of all the men she had met in her travels, be it wanderers, solider, or shopkeeper, O'Hanrahan was by far her favorite.

The courier walked over to the bench the said private was sitting on, two Sunsets Sarsaparillas in hand. She couldn't stand rest of the misfit's but put up with their less-than-pleasant attitudes for O'hanrahan. Poindexter was a pompous ass, Razz was always hopped up on one amphetamine or another, and although Mags meant well and was gracious for everything the courier did for the squad, she was still a bitch. The only person she truly enjoyed the company of was O'Hanrahan.

He looked up from the paper he had been reading and greeted the woman. "Howdy."

"Whatcha' doing?" She inquired seating herself next to him.

"Just thinkin'. I wander what that resort must look like on the inside."

"Nothing special, really. Tacky wallpaper and haughty soldiers. I guess that describes most of New Vegas. The beds are pretty nice though. Much better than Novac's."

"I've heard of that place, never been."

"Really? It's not too far. About half way from here and the Mojave Outpost."

"The commanders say we're not going in any battle until the Hoover Dam but in the meantime we have to stay on the camp site."

The courier scoffed. "That's not fair."

"Yeah, I think so too. I guess that's just how the NCR works."

The courier tried to think of ways to lighten the mood when the perfect solution finally popped in her head. "Hey, I wanna show you something. Come on." The courier led him by the hand to towards the camps exit with a large grin on her face.

"I'm not sure if I should leave post, Rosie." Although O'Hanrahan's tone was hesitant, his body continued to follow the couriers lead.

"If anyone has a problem with it they can talk to me," she patted the Fat Man strapped to her back, "and him."

"I guess so.. Where are we going?"

"You'll see!"

They walked, or in her case, skipped, just a little while longer. When they stopped the courier began to undress herself. O'Hanrahan watched in a trance as she removed piece by piece, the leather armor, the tank top, even her hair tie, until she was clad in only a pair of underwear.

"Come on, strip down. Unless you want to get your fatigues wet." With that the courier walked into the lake.

O'hanrahan gave in after a minute or two, and like the courier, stripped down to his boxers.

"Finally, I was beginning to think I would be going alone."

"Nah, just appreciating the view."

The courier giggled, glad to have him coming out of his innocent shell. "Then come with me, it's not too far from here."

The courier felt at ease as the water cooled her from the Mojave heat, with each stroke through the water she could see the caked on dirt and blood leave her skin. O'Hanrahan swam with the courier towards the deeper end of the lake.

"It's down here, hold your breath." The courier took his arm again and swam to the bottom.

They observed the odd looking machine at the bottom of the lake, taking in the structures of the old golf cart with childlike bewilderment. The stayed under the lake for only moments before returning to the surface to replenish their lungs with oxygen.

"So how did you find this?" O'Hanrahan inquired.

"I was looking for these things called fish when I came across it. Pretty neat, huh?"

He swam idle for a moment, thinking over what exactly a 'fish' might be before responding. "Yeah. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. It sorta looks like those abandoned cars along the highway but.. different. I'm still trying to figure it out but no one seems to understand what I'm talking about." The courier shrugged before swimming back to the shore, O'Hanrahan following short.

The courier removed her underwear, the last article of clothing on her body and stretched across the sand.

"Why are you naked?" He asked the courier as he sat beside her, too bashful to look at her exposed skin.

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm not getting inside of that outfit with soggy clothes underneath. Its bad enough when blood gets trapped inside." The courier looked at him, noticing that he was intensely staring at the now vacant water. She grabbed his jaw, forcing his head to look at her. "I suggest you do the same."

"Umm, I'm not sure."

The courier rolled her eyes and climbed over him to straddle his lap. "Fine then. I'll make you."

She pushed him down into the sand and pressed her lips to his neck, gently sucking the skin in between her teeth. O'Hanrahan braced his hand on her hips, feeling himself grow harder under the minx on his lap.

The courier's fingers traced the defined muscles of his abdomen before dipping into his boxers. He inhaled a trembling breath as her dainty hand gripped his length. She began to slide down his body, pealing the cloth off his body and exposing him to her.

O'Hanrahan propped himself up by his elbows to see that the courier was doing but quickly threw his head back as her tongue slid along his manhood.

His mouth hung open as she encased his entire length with her mouth, applying pressure across the underside of his cock. His hand curled in the locks of hair on her scalp as her head began to bob. Each squeeze of her hand and flick of her tongue had his body on the edge.

Sensing his need for release grow stronger, the courier climbed back over to him, straddling his hips once more. She pressed his manhood up against her slick entrance, slowly impaling herself on his length.

The courier let a deep groan escape her throat as her hips settled against his. The feeling of being completely filled by him was making her body feel electrified as she began to move her hips .

O'hanrahan looked at the courier for a moment, skeptical at how he could have such a magnificent woman giving herself to him. Everything from the way she tossed her head back, to how her hips met him in perfect synchronization, to the way her plump lips separated to release a sweet moan had his enamoration for the girl grow deeper.

The courier looked down to catch his gaze, she smiled at the way his eyes glasses over in pleasure. She rolled her hips, rocking herself against.

It might not have been the rough and hard tryst she had been aiming for originally, but the closeness and compassion she felt from him more than made up for it.

The friction built up slow inside her until she began thrusting herself harder on him, increasing the pace dramatically. O'Hanrahan's breaths became shorter and more uneven with each stroke.

O'Hanrahan pulled the couriers head down to meet him, his lips embracing her swollen ones. She began to grind her hips forward, stimulation her bundle of nerves against his shaft

She gasped out a moan as O'Hanrahan gripped her hips for leverage and pulled her closer with every thrust. Waves of pleasure rack throughout her body.

The her inner muscles clutched down on O'Hanrahan's cock, prompting him to thrust harder. A few frantic thrusts and the courier hit her peak, holding onto the man beneath her for dear life. He groaned deeply, his hips bucked once more under her and she felt him release inside her.

For a while they just held each other, cheeks pressed together, no caring if they catched their breaths. The courier beamed up at O'Hanrahan, hands stroking his sweat shined body.

"So much for being dry, huh?" He asked while wrapping an arm around her waist.

"You think they even noticed we were gone?" She looked to him, not really expecting a reply, just wanting to gaze into his warm eyes.

"Nope. But let's not give them time to worry about it." O'hanrahan said before putting his clothes back on. The courier watched as he re-applied his NCR armor, only managing to placing her underwear on before he was finished.

"Your hair's a mess Private."

"You're still undressed Miss Courier." He retorted before throwing the forgotten leather armor towards the lounging girl.

"It's more fun that way."

The courier tugged the curve hugging armor back on her buzzing body. They slowly made their way towards the camp, not having a care in the world when the snipers gave them curious and lascivious looks. They stopped near the Misfit's tent, fingers still intertwined.

"I guess this is where I drop you off." The courier felt awkward being the one to say goodnight.

"I know. Where ya' headed off to next?"

"McCarran. Bitter Springs is in need major need, I just got reinforcements from here to help. I need to get McCarran and Forlorn's help, then hopefully Bitter Springs will be back on their feet."

"If it ever gets to be too much, there always a lake to wash the stress away."

"I might just take you up on that offer." The courier gave him a brief kiss before heading off towards McCarran.

Omg this prompt is brilliant!

OP here - provided that F!LW meets him in the Sierra Madre, GO FOR IT. I AM SO UP FOR THE DEAN LOVING.

AND I AM SO UP FOR YOU POTENTIAL AUTHOR ANON.

/enters idolisation mode

Butch and F!LW end up with a car that works, maybe its something F!LW has been putting together for kicks and she actually got it working or maybe they stumble upon a covered up chevy in a garage that's miraculously untouched. Point is they end up with a car and decide to try and drive it. Of course, they're both fucking clueless. Hilarity ensues.

Bonus cookies if F!LW is a speed demon and Butch drives like a granny.

Thanks so much! Don't worry, I always finish when I write, it's just going to take a little bit longer to get this one out the right way. :)

You're welcome, and thanks muchly for reading!

Both Vulpes and the courier happen to be sick fucks, who get super horny from killing. I want her giving him a blowjob while he cuts up bodies, violent fucking on top of piles of gore, slathering each other with blood and licking it off, all that good stuff.

FLW goes through the beginnings of a mental breakdown, Butch tries to help the only way he really knows how.

Could be smut or could just be awkward, Butch-trying-but-not-succeeding-to-comfort FLW.

This is...adorable. I approve~

I am very tempted to write this.

Vault-Tec Industries
Pip-Boy Model 3000
User Log Entry

∙ Veronica noticed that the man in the suit was in some of the earlier tapes.

[C:GP_02.exe
#play=14m39s
Play attached video file? y/n

The view blurred for a moment as Terry swung the camera back around. The machine struggled to get into focus as the shot panned to an old, rusted building next to an overturned silo. Once the caravan had passed, the only visible person was a tall man in a dark suit standing by the silo. Panning to the side again, Terry focused on an NCR patrol that was making its way up the road toward the Strip.

[playback=paused; back=0m20sec; %200mag; pause]

The image stops on the man in the suit. The figure is too far away to make out any details.

Vault-Tec Industries
Pip-Boy Model 3000
User Log Entry

∙ The tall man is in this one too. This was the next tape in the box, but there’s no indication that the events of the last tape had happened yet.

[C:GP_05.exe
Play attached video file? y/n

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Language Troubles (1/?)

Re: Language Troubles (2/?)

Re: Dr. Richards/Major Knight - Smoking Your Pack Of Trickery [1/?]

Re: Greener Pastures (4b/?)

Thirst Will Drive You Mad

Re: Thirst Will Drive You Mad

Re: Thirst Will Drive You Mad

Re: Pugnat Fortier (1/1)

Re: F!Courier/Dean Domino - the longest fucking dry spell

Baby Is What He Calls Me 3/?

Baby Is What He Calls Me 4/?

Baby Is What He Calls Me 5/?

Baby Is What He Calls Me 6/?

Re: F!Courier/Lucius (Punching and dancing leads to good times)

Re: F!Courier/Dean Domino - the longest fucking dry spell

BUTCH/F!LW AND A CAR

Re: Hacer El Amor - 4a/?

Re: Readeranon is maybe getting too into this

F!Courier/Vulpes Inculta - Bloody, Gorey Sex

F!LW/Butch

Re: F!LW/Butch

Re: Craig Boone/Craig Boone

Greener Pastures (5a/?)

Greener Pastures (5b/?)

Re: Greener Pastures (5c/?)