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

Non-con is preferred but it doesn't *have* to be. I just really want to see Boone having some kind of angry/dominant sex with F!Courier. Any situation is good really C:

Sssseconded!

I realllly hope someone fills this >.

Dominant sex with Boone? What a lovely idea OP <3 :)

[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!]

YUM!!!!
I love your gutsy Boone! <3

More! Very eager for more!

OP here, loving the hell out of this already A!A :D I'm at the edge of my seat waiting for the next part! <3 So nice to see a ballsy, assertive Boone for a change.

I love your writing style :) You make this whole situation seem completely believable.

Come back please!

I hope you haven't totally abandoned this, A!A. I keep re-reading this over and over because I can't get enough D:

Wow... I was really surprised to see a message on this story after letting it sit for so long. I can't believe you like this so much. For you, just for you, ya beautiful reader, I will finish this thing :p Give me a week or two, if you don't mind. I promise to crank something out.

It has been more than a week or two.

A!A, please come back and finish this.

A!A here. I'm sorry that I have never finished this story as I promised. However, as I began to write the actual rape scene I realized that I could not do it. Just trying to put my mind into Boone's as he sets out to rape someone.... I just couldn't continue. I hated him, I hated me for writing it. I am 100% against this sort of violence towards men or women and I cannot in good faith write it. If someone else would like to write the rest of the story I certainly cannot begrudge them that. In fact, I welcome it. I don't mind that other people read and write non-con, however, for me personally it strikes a cord I cannot get past.

Different anon here, but I just wanted to say I respect those reasons. Fantasy non-con is one thing, reality non-con of 'forcing' you to write something is not cool.

Thanks for taking the time to respond.

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

Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Re: Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Re: Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Re: Boone/F!Courier, non-con/dominance

Thirst Will Drive You Mad

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Really crappy A!A here...

Re: Really crappy A!A here...

Re: Really crappy A!A here...

Re: Really crappy A!A here...