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

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

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Exactly as described: Some way, somehow, either Boone or Arcade (or hell, both!) discover that M!Courier wears sexy ladies' undies beneath his clothing and armor. And holy hell, does it ever turn them on!

"You're sick."

"I'm fine."

"You're sick and you can barely move."

"I'm fine."

Jonah sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face and knocking his glasses askew to rub at his eyes. "You've got three layers of clothing on, plus all the duvets in the suite, and you're still shivering. You're sick." He leans heavily against the large oak desk of the Lucky 38's main bedroom, crossing his arms and addressing the feverish pile of blankets swaddled in the center of his double bed. "I swear to god, Boone, if you don't drop it and just let me treat you-"

"I'm not sick," Boone insists from beneath the layers of thick cashmere blankets. His ever-present beret blends almost indistinguishably into the scarlet pillows propped under his head, and his eyes are closed as he talks. "'M just tired. So you and Gannon can fuck off with your needles." He sniffles wetly and grotesquely, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

Jonah blinks owlishly. "Needles?"

"He's scared of needles," a helpful voice pipes up, and Jonah turns just in time to watch Arcade stroll casually into the bedroom, a snack cake clutched in his hand. It was around breakfast time, but Jonah hadn't noticed, too busy trying to goad Boone into at least injecting a stimpak to help him through whatever fever the sniper was sweating out.

"I'm NOT scared of needles," Boone says, turning his back to the two bespectacled men. "I just don't like 'em."

Arcade takes a generous bite from the snack cake and chews thoughtfully as he contemplates Boone's huddled form. "You look like hell," he decides, swallowing. "Still planning on fighting off this virus through testosterone and denial alone, I see. How's that going for you?"

"You can't seriously be scared of needles," Jonah insists, walking around the room and retrieving his doctor's bag from the cabinet next to his bed. He plops the bag on to the ground and bends over to take out an empty syringe and a small vial of blended broc flower and xander root extract- his own homemade concoction.

Jonah straightens up and pauses, empty syringe posed purposefully above the vial he intended to fill it with.

"You must have used stimpaks before... with the NCR, at least?"

Boone shifts beneath the blankets, propping himself up on bent elbows.

"Yeah. Sometimes. Mostly didn't have a choice. If you're bad enough off that a field medic's running after you, you don't really care what they're sticking you with-"

He coughs deeply, a choking wheeze that rattles his entire frame, and Jonah makes a mental note to be sure and clean the blankets very thoroughly later on.

Or perhaps burn them.

"-and anyway, most of the time they just hopped us up on med-x. One jolt and you're basically running into combat. Two jolts and you're running into combat with a broken arm, two fractured ankles, and a head wound that you forgot about, 'cause you can't feel a damn thing."

Arcade snorts derisively, grabbing an old pre-war book from the courier's desk and sitting down on a nearby couch. He starts to thumb through the pages.

"Fun times. Three 'jolts', and you risk respiratory depression. That's when the party really gets started."

Jonah looks up sharply from where he hovered over Boone at the foot of the bed.

"Really?" He asks. "Hypoventilation?"

He had been contemplating whether or not to just stick the other man and run. Boone was bigger, but Jonah was much faster- all gangly limbs and nervous energy. He figured that if he had a decent head start he could make it safely out of the room and flee into the bathroom, or some other room with a lock. Preferably a sturdy one. Somewhere he could run to before Boone had a chance to punch him in the face.

Arcade nods, not looking up from the book now cradled in his lap between crossed legs, but Jonah catches the tiny smile the doctor sometimes gets when he's exceptionally proud of the courier's medical knowledge.

"You bet. Something about analgesic drugs and human lungs just doesn't jive correct when administered in the ridiculous doses NCR loves to pump into their troops. Strange, I know. The Followers have certainly treated enough of them, though. Did you know the differences between a Freeside junkie's liver and a veteran Ranger's liver are nearly indistinguishable?"

Boone chokes out a noise somewhere between a cough and indignant scoff, letting his arms fall to his sides and flopping back down on the bed. "Yeah, whatever. Sure made you feel like a million caps, though, but I guess that's- Jonah."

The sudden shift in tone makes Jonah stand straight up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed. He had been distracted by the conversation and sat down to face Arcade, back turned to Boone, and he quickly spins around to face the other man, alarmed. "What? What is it?"

Boone is staring at him with a strange expression on his face, but his eyes are cast downwards, toward Jonah's belt.

"Were you....are you wearing.... is that lace?"

Horrified realization dawns on Jonah's features, and he feels his stomach drop as he looks down to where Boone is staring.

He doesn't have to look, he knows immediately what Boone is talking about, but he drops his head anyway. His clothes had been fitting a bit too loose lately (he blamed all the courier work running around in the hot, Mojave desert) and sitting down had caused his denim trousers to shift a little too low, hanging a little too slack off of his narrow hips.... and a thin strip of black, lace-trimmed elastic peeked out just above the waistband.

Flushing red, Jonah reaches down and yanks up his trousers, fumbling awkwardly to adjust his belt. "Um... uh... it's not... it's not like..."

He hears a cough. Not Boone's deep, chest-rattling cough- a more delicate, polite cough. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Arcade looking at him with wide eyes, now thoroughly distracted from his book.

Arcade looks just as bewildered as Jonah feels, and that only makes Jonah blush harder. His face is so hot, he thinks it might melt away and slosh right off of his skull.

Flustered, he drops the stimpak on to his bed and mumbles some excuse about having to go take Rex outside. As the red-faced courier hurriedly retreats from the bedroom, neither Arcade nor Boone has the heart to remind Jonah that Rex is already outside. The courier had let him out earlier that morning.

There is a beat of silence. Arcade uncrosses his legs and lowers them to the ground.

He dog ears the page of his book and carefully closes it, placing it gently on the couch next to him.

He turns to Boone.

Boone stares back at him wordlessly, nothing but eyes and a beret peering over plush red blankets drawn up to his nose.

"That was-" Arcade starts, and Boone cuts him off.

"Fucking weird?"

"Well, yes, unexpected, but also-"

"Fucking hot?"

"Exactly."

Boone turns his head away, wrought with another wave of coughs. He hacks so powerfully into the blankets that he nearly dry heaves. Arcade wrinkles his nose in disgust and covertly snatches up the stimpak Jonah had carelessly discarded.

Striding purposefully up to Boone's side, he grabs the sniper's wrist and wrestles a sweaty arm above the covers. Before Boone has a chance to protest, he jams the stimpak into his upper shoulder, depressing the plunger.

"Sonofabitch!" Boone actually whimpers, voice cracking comically high. He jerks his arm away from Arcade, but the damage was already done.

"There you go, you giant man-child. I wish I could say I was sorry, but you were being totally unreasonable. And disgusting."

Boone withdraws his arm back under the duvets, glaring. "You didn't have to do it like that."

Arcade rolls his eyes, tossing the empty syringe onto the bedside cabinet. He'd dispose of it properly later.

"There's time for pouting later. Right now, we need to figure out what we're going to do about.... Jonah." And his ridiculously sexy, lacy underwear, he mentally adds.

Boone agrees with the unspoken implication. "Yeah, right. But... what if he just goes and takes them off?"

"Well," Arcade answers, pushing up the sleeve of his doctor's coat and glancing at the watch strapped around his wrist. "We have about sixty seconds before the stimpak kicks in and suppresses that hell-cough of yours. Assuming he realizes that the cyberdog is still outside- probably happily licking its own butt- we should have enough time to catch him on the elevator ride back up." Arcade lowers his sleeve, meeting Boone's gaze. "And then we can make sure he doesn't take them off."

Boone coughs again, but much less harshly- more akin to clearing his throat.

"Or... we could take them off."

"Yes," Arcade agrees with a wicked grin, already making his way towards the door. "We certainly could."

So I'm just gonna stalk the hell out of this prompt, okay? Okay. *hides in bushes and waits for sexy, sexy updates*

*cackles gleefully* Oh yes, why don't you two keep on scheming against poor Jonah and his sexy undies. I'll just be over here...leering. ;) Awesome job, author!anon - I'll be waiting for more with baited breath.

In olden days, a glimpse of stocking
was looked on as something shocking!
Now, heaven knows... :D

-

A blaringly loud voice calls out "PRESIDENTAL SUITE", announcing Jonah's return.

The robotic voice, as always, is obnoxiously enthusiastic as the creaky elevator cranks to a sudden stop, hard enough to cause Jonah to stumble and grab on to the elevator's guard rail for balance.

"Thanks, Yes Man," Jonah replies, addressing the securatron standing at attention next to the elevator's control buttons.

The securitron turns to face him, a large smiling face blinking happily on its main display.

"SURE! ANYTIME! YOU'RE VERY WELCOME!" It extends a single, metal arm, and jabs at a glowing button on the elevator's walls.

The metal doors slide open and Jonah finds himself face to face with Arcade and Boone, both standing at the entrance. Jonah notes, with some semblance of confusion, that Boone was looking a lot less feverish.

"Um. Hey guys. What are you- uh, guys?"

Arcade and Boone share a mutual look, but before Jonah has time to question further they are hustling him back into the elevator.

Confused, Jonah allows himself to be pulled back into the small metal room and crowded into a corner.

"What- what's going on? Where are we going?" His hands instinctively reach out behind his back to brace against the elevator's railing, gripping tightly.

"Don't worry," Arcade attempts to pacify Jonah in a tone that causes the courier to feel extremely worried.

"HEY! HELLO! NICE TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN! WHERE TO?"

"Casino floor," Boone rasps, voice still husky from coughing. The elevator chugs to life beneath their feet, rumbling slightly as it slowly begins to descend to the bottom floor. Then, without warning, Boone reaches around Yes Man's giant robotic arm and presses the flashing stop button, causing the elevator to grind to a halt between floors.

The sudden stop causes the entire elevator to shake, and Jonah cries out in alarm as it drops down erratically, before stopping completely. "What the HELL was that for?"

Boone moves to face Jonah against the wall, shoulder bumping against Arcade as he passes, and Jonah realizes just how cramped the three of them are in the tiny elevator room. Distracted by the sudden stop, Jonah hadn't even noticed Arcade fiddling with the back of Yes Man's housing.

He watches, confused, as Arcade opens a small panel in the back of the securitron and begins imputing what appears to be a complex numerical code.

"HEY! THAT FEELS FUNNY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? CAN I HELP?"

"I think it's time for a nap, Yes Man," Arcade says, "We need to borrow the elevator for a bit." He punches in the last of the code and with a loud, electronic whir Yes Man's face suddenly flickers out and his entire body goes slump, crumpling to the floor in a mechanical heap- effectively disabled.

Jonah presses a hand to his forehead, staring at the puddle of metal limbs. "Ok, is SOMEONE going to clue me in on what's going on...?"

Arcade grins triumphantly, ignoring the question. "Well. That was easier than I thought it would be. I wonder, do robots dream of electric sheep?"

Jonah opens his mouth to demand an explanation again, but is cut off as Boone unceremoniously reaches out and grabs his belt buckle, fiddling with it.

"You're wearing panties," Boone deadpans. "Girl panties."

Jonah feels his face flush again for what seems to be the umpteenth time that morning.

"Wait, seriously? Is this some kind of joke? What are you- knock it off!"

He tries to bat away Boone's hands, but the sniper is stubborn. With a tiny clink, he unhooks Jonah's belt buckle and opens the front of his trousers, roughly pulling them down.

Jonah lets out an indignant squawk, whacking Boone on the shoulder and attempting to push the other man away. "Ha-ha, you really got me, very funny, now get OFF-"

"Oh, I assure you," Arcade purrs, and he's suddenly behind Jonah, pushing him away from the wall and pressing against the courier's back. "Craig definitely intends to get off."

Jonah could feel the heat from Arcade's body seeping into his clothes- could feel the doctor's hard muscle and strong hands, gathering Jonah into his arms and holding him in a vice grip.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Boone grouses, and Jonah means to question them both, ask them what exactly the point of all this is, and if they're pulling some kind of uncouth prank on him could they please just hurry up and get it over with?

But he is momentarily distracted by the soft feeling of lips at his neck.

Arcade nuzzles the skin beneath Jonah's jaw, pressing a trail of kisses up to the courier's ear. "Shh," he soothes, taking Jonah's hands in his own and pressing them tightly against Jonah's chest. Holding them there. "We just want to take a look at you, is all."

Sandwiched between the two men, trapped in a dingy metal elevator room, Jonah realizes that he is really in no position to protest.

Jonah presses experimentally against Arcade, feeling a tell-tale hardness poking into his lower back. "You... you guys are seriously into this?" The idea is strangely thrilling.

Arcade's response is instantaneous. "Absolutely, yes. Yes. We are."

Jonah can feel the doctor's chin pressing into his shoulder, craning over his body to look down where Boone had opened his pants, pushing them down to his knees.

Jonah knows what they'll see- sheer, ridiculously small women's underwear. Black and lacy and barely enough to cover him entirely: the fluid curves of the material intending to hug a woman's body, but instead swelling and stretching over his own anatomy.

Boone's fingers play over the material of his underwear, twisting in the lace as he strokes it with feather-light touches. "Mmm, yeah. Look at you," he affirms, getting a good fistful of Jonah's rapidly swelling erection beneath the black panties. "So pretty. Do you always wear 'em?"

"Oh! Yes," Jonah gasps, arching into Boone's grip despite himself. "I mean, no!"

"Yes or no?" Boone teases as Arcade mouths along Jonah's neck. "I bet you do- you wear 'em all the time. You probably love to wear shit like this, all tight and silky under your clothes, or your armor..."

Jonah feel's Arcade's grip around his chest and arms become impossibly tighter, and the doctor is nearly panting as Jonah writhes against him, wound tight by Boone's prying fingers. Boone's words, combined with his touches, are slowly driving Jonah insane.

"Yeah," Boone continues. "Underneath all that tough-guy leather, your armors and jackets and gear, you wear these tiny little panties, don't you? With frills, and lace, and other girly shit, pressed up right between your legs."

"Yes," Jonah moans, "oh, yes." It's true. It's true and he's so embarrassed and so turned on, he can't tell if he wants to come or cry.

"Tell us," Arcade encourages, reaching down with one hand and pulling up at the silk until it stretches deliciously around Jonah's hardness, cupping and rubbing him so gently it ached. Jonah unconsciously humps against the material, earning a dark chuckle from the doctor. "Tell us what it feels like."

Hngugh oh yes please. A/B is already my OTP and I love cross dressing and your courier already, so I guess I'm saying YES PLEASE MORE.

Ooooh, this is intriguing. Most of Arcade's quips are just perfect, and your Yes Man is fantastic. Btw, the Philip Dick reference was perfect.

I love this! Can't wait to read more of it!

please continue!

Hnnngh the last part of this is so incredibly hot that it burned my eyeballs and left me with a desperate need for more Courier in panties. So much so that I've started writing some myself. See what you do to me, A!A?! I doubt there's any chance this will ever be finished, but just in case, there's one anon here who would be hugely grateful to see more of it.

God, this is so hot.

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

M!Courier/Boone and/or Arcade - M!Courier wears ladies' panties

Anything Goes 1/? [M!Courier/Arcade/Boone] kink: crossdressing

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