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

None of the companions have any time to themselves in the Lucky 38, what with six people, an enclave eyebot, a dog, and a freaking nightkin all living together under one roof. So when Arcade finally gets five minutes alone he isn't about to take it for granted - and who better to rub one out to than everybody's favorite angry sniper?

ALL OF MY LOVE if since the living space is so cramped, Boone still knows exactly what's going on, but is too embarrassed to say anything. Obviously ending this in smut would be a dream come true but is absolutely not necessary.

OH SHIT BEAUTIFUL PROMPT IS FUCKING ECSTASY

Oh please let this be filled oh yes.

Oh what the beautiful fuck this is wonderful

Fucking amazing prompt.
SOMEONE MUST DO IT NOW.

Gonna take a stab at this, guys, lemme know.

-

"I'll be back later, guys. If you need me, Veronica and I will be schmoozing with the creepiest at the Ultra Luxe."

As the scribe and the Courier departed from the Lucky 38, life stirring in the wake of fresh air and stagnant dust (Arcade had been kidding when he called it a tomb, little did he know...) while the taxed elevator rumbled down to the casino floor.

Cass, enamored lately with the idea of catching a drink at the Wrangler from its newly installed still, waited in lopsided arm with Raul for the lift to return. Since most of Courier Six's escapades had left him trawling the Strip for supporters and enemies alike, his companions had taken to occupying themselves in whatever way they saw fit.

Arcade was no exception.

ED-E was powered down and 'napping', You know robots can't really sleep, Ron, and Rex on his daily stroll with Lily anyway, and proved to be the only problem he would encounter today with privacy.

Ordinarily Arcade wouldn't have taken to such a paranoid stance, but in tandem with the origins of the well-mannered eye bot and his ever-blurring identity, Arcade preferred to play it the safe way and find a room not currently occupied.

He settled down in a suite just across from the master room, sighing and shedding his coat over a high-backed chair before crossing quickly to lock the door.

As far as he knew the only other sentient (and 'awake') occupants of the Lucky 38 were Mr. House and Boone, though the former had shown no evidence of being invasive enough to have installed security feeds in the suite.

Boone, on the other hand..

Arcade listened quietly at the door, picking up a small shot glass off the nightstand to press against the aged wood. He thought he could hear something like footsteps in the kitchen, but Boone never made a sound anyway. So his best bet was to just enjoy his time alone while he could, even if that solitude was more imagined than concrete.

After checking the expansive wardrobe once and under the bed twice, having forgotten it was redundant after taking the (somewhat) unnecessary precaution of closing the curtains, Arcade sank into the still-plush mattress of the double bed.

"Slow as you can," he whispered to himself, and tried not to wince too hard at the slight metal clank of the buckle as he undid his pants and let them slide down to the floor. No one here, no one to hear.

Scooting and turning so his back would face the wall, he stretched out his legs and suppressed a pleased hum at the generous room he had to do so.

Due to the close quarters of the suite, the Courier had asked everyone to accept that no one would really be able to claim any one room, a fact Arcade recalled with a dull groan as he pictured Boone taking apart his rifle for cleaning and dutiful inspection on this very bed.

He pressed a palm into his still-clothed erection and tried hard not to imagine the quiet man right outside the door, suspicious of every sound. With his luck, Boone was probably just in the bathroom, practicing his scowl in the smudged mirror.

Arcade pulled down the cotton barrier to just under his balls and tried to imitate that same bored grimace, that sexy, aloof gaze that saw everything except Arcade's own raging hard-on for the silent widow. Gripping himself around the base and pulling hard, he reprimanded himself for the umpteenth time for lusting after a man still in grieving, and moaned anyway.

Shit. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he bit into it to muffle himself. Better. In fact..

It wouldn't do to draw this out too long, Arcade thought as he ground his teeth around the washed out fabric. Time to put that brilliant mind you always talk about to use.

Conjuring an image of the man in his mind was easy. No one seemed to know it, but Arcade watched Boone all the time. His sure, strong grip around the curves of his rifle. A certain tilt to his hips as he walked, maybe as a way of canceling out sound; no less flattering to his ass. The sharp, knowing glint of his sunglasses.

He'd only seen Boone's eyes once, very late on the strip when they'd all gone out drinking. They were dark brown. A color associated in the Enclave with plainness and common genes. Arcade loved them.

Gasping soundlessly and trailing a hand up to caress his chest, he imagined the way Boone had stared at him that night, unguarded and as carefree as he could get. A little drunk, a little reckless. If Arcade were the examining sort, he'd almost bet that small quirk of lips was a smile, an invitation for more, a 'come get to know me'.

But Arcade had made the mistake of falling for more than one ‘add-alcohol to gay’, and it had cost him, sometimes even in the form of a violent morning after. The idea of waking up next to that much volatile, self-hating regret made the venture less worth it in the end.

Arcade hissed through his teeth, and thumbed at himself. Smearing pre-come around the glans of his cock helped delay the harsh friction caused by wandering thoughts during a jerk off session; more welled up to bead and spill over the underside. He was dripping. Arcade was dripping for Craig Boone under the time crunch of the courier's return and he wasn't focusing enough.

Kicking up the speed a notch, Arcade tried to picture what the sniper might be like in bed. The self-proclaimed mayor of Camp Switch, Arcade Gannon had no problem with the idea of bottoming for Boone. But the idea of fucking into him, quietly groaning underneath the doctor and the unrelenting pressure of thighs like a thoroughbred, wrapped around Arcade's own trimmer waist, pulling him back in...

Hips snapping off the bed, Arcade's eyes flew open in a mixture of terror and resignation as he slickly fucked into his fist. Was that a knock on the door? Was he being too loud? Arcade peered down to examine himself for the moment, and immediately groaned in frustration.

There was a sharper, thankfully louder rapping on the door. "Gannon? That you in there?"

Fuck, I was so close. Fumbling to draw his underwear back up and tight around the head of his aching dick. You couldn't have worse timing. Pulling up his pants with a clatter and securing the belt as a second layer of protection. There's no way he's not going to notice...

Opening the door with an altogether unsatisfying snick and trying to put on his very best air of unamused elegance, Arcade leveled his interrupter with what he thought might pass as a cool look.

Maybe if the lights had been dimmer.

Boone blinked and did a quick inventory of the obviously shaken doctor. Missing his signature lab coat. Shirt un-tucked from his pants, collar damp, glasses askew. Arcade had obviously not been reading the book he held so casually in one hand (upside down), the other griping the doorknob so hard it was a wonder it hadn't snapped clean off. His hair was mussed and a little flat on one side.

"Yes?" Arcade asked, voice too rough, too deep.

"I.. just wanted to let you know to keep it down. Lily is back from her walk and she keeps wondering who managed to get the old terminal up and running." His stare was met with confusion.

Boone gestured then to the ancient computer gathering dust on the desk adjacent to the bed.

Words failing him momentarily, Arcade glanced there and back. "That.. uh." Years passed in a second as he scrabbled after something to say. "Yes, well, I'll try-"

Boone raised a hand and he shut his mouth with a click. With the same, the sniper lifted the tails of Arcade's shirt and, face passive, exposed the glaringly obvious wet spot that had managed to soak through.

Letting the cloth fall back over it like a curtain, Boone looked back up and took in Arcade's stricken expression.

"Just keep it down." A beat. "Please."

With that, he walked away, presumably to let Lily know that he'd taken care of any curious typing noises.

Shutting the door and quickly falling back against it, Arcade shuddered out something between a sigh and a sob.

He was still furiously turned on, and that little exchange hadn't helped.

Boone knew.

He knew.

This is incredibly hot.

This is great. Very much looking forward to more, god this is wonderful.

For the rest of the day after the Courier got back, things were relatively normal. Things had gone well at the Ultra Luxe and he’d managed to uncover some kind of scandal involving the menu. In turn, Arcade tried his best to compartmentalize, and eventually willed away his erection. Because there was probably no way he could peacefully jack off now that everyone was back home, and more so knowing that Boone was lurking somewhere, knowing it was to thoughts of him.

But other than that, the routine followed as usual. Arcade was called upon if anyone needed medical attention. (Veronica had managed to get a scrape infected without noticing.) He read journals on health science that had been brought back for him. A couple hours after noon, Arcade checked out with everyone else and packed their spare crate with supplies. As per a weekly arrangement with the Followers - that he was all too happy to carry out - he brought it to Julie and chatted for a while.

It was perfectly regular. No one suspected a thing about what had transpired between Boone and he.

For the most part.

So, dinner was a bit awkward. At the request of the Courier, everyone sat down for dinner and ate together; almost a tradition by now. Raul had offered to cook tonight, and the food wasn’t half bad. It was, however, difficult to concentrate on his well-done brahmin steak. Can't place blame, when the object of your sexual fantasies is right across the table and, if it were possible, more quiet than ever, he thought sullenly. Even Cass was having trouble getting Boone to commentate, on her worst days managing to startle at least a smile or a short huff of laughter out of him.

He ate, of course, but every bite felt like lead in his stomach.

It was a test of courage to fall asleep that night. Twisting with tension and unable to completely abandon the idea of getting off, Arcade finally turned over and muffled the harsh, uneven gasping of his release into the pillow. The sheets clung to him in an unpleasant way, and it only intensified his sense of shame. His limbs burned from being held so tight for so long, and mind exhausted by everything it had been forced into dealing with today, rest found him. Arcade would find time to wash the bedclothes in the morning.

-

“You look kinda shitty.”

Eyes bleary and burning a bit behind smudged lenses, Arcade squinted accusingly. “And maybe if I was a creature of vanity, I would care enough to respond to that.” He flicked out his newspaper, a couple centuries behind in current events but no less stimulating.

In truth, his sore attitude was a product of his early waking hour. Arcade had taken it upon himself to get up before anyone else, to switch out and wash the sheets he'd ruined the night prior.

Cass shrugged, and contemplated the liquor cabinet for a full minute before snatching a mug off the kitchen shelf and pouring herself some coffee from the ancient French press.

“That’s a load if I ever heard one,” she said, and took her seat right next to him, bumping elbows amiably. “You spend an unholy amount of time in the ‘loo.”

Unable to deny that which was true but pretty good at deluding himself into imagining he could, Arcade twitched his shoulders at her back, realizing with little frustration that he’d been rereading the same article for a while now. Removing his glasses and rubbing both eyes tiredly, he asked, “What can I do for you.”

Cass smirked in triumph. “Start by explaining to me what’s going on between you and grumpy.”

Arcade appeared to find the fissure in his left lens more fascinating than usual.

“Well? He was about as living as his chair last night, and you never pick ‘n push at a good steak.”

When still he gave no indication of answering, Cass moved to stand up. “I guess I’ll just have to ask him then.“

“No! Lord, no. Just… give me a moment,” he pleaded, motioning for her to sit back down. He replaced his glasses. “This is a long story, you understand,” he began, “and private.”

She nodded and pointed to the door. He followed her to the room she’d slept in last night, and promptly unleashed his account of yesterday’s events and his own reasoning behind their tragic turn.

(gah formatting, gah writing on the old laptop.)

(Ahhhh, titling fail. :( Sorry about that- the post before this is meant to be 1c. Also, apologies in advance for the shortness of this part, and the ridiculous amount of plot.)

When he had finally caught her up to speed, Cass bent towards him in thought. “Boy, doc, I’ll be honest. You’ve got me stumped- I always thought he was straight as straight got.”

“Precisely.“

“Now hold on,” she said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t say I thought that now, after all you’ve gone and told me. In fact, I’d say he’s nothing short of damn curious, if he ain’t interested.”

Arcade’s initial reaction was to defend the harassed man against the suggestion. But the more he thought about it, the more Boone’s behavior seemed strange to him.

Maybe he didn’t really identify that…?

“He couldn’t have thought I was imaging anyone but him, Cass,” he finally insisted. There was no way. Who else?

“Or maybe he’s just too shy to think that it might be the case?” Cass offered, smiling. “Not exactly Mr. New Vegas we’re talkin’ about, here.”

There was a hollering in the main hall, and reluctantly Cass got to her feet, hat shoved down over her mess of strawberry red hair. Apparently their fearless leader was calling upon them for companionship today, and Cass was to be part of the troop.

“I’ll see you later, Arcade,” she said on her way out the door, “take care now.”

There was a set of barks and some scuffling. Then, a familiar ding and the noise of the elevator rattling down through the shaft.

Arcade was on his way to the kitchen to retrieve his abandoned newspaper when he saw a flash of red, and decided that maybe it would be a better idea to go read that pre-war novel which had found its way into the suite recently. It was less likely to judge him for masturbating.

No more than two days later was the suite once again clear of its usual occupants. Nearly everyone was off helping on some kind of reconnaissance at the Fort, and Boone, who could not be trusted to play politics with the Legion, was out drinking.

It was his night.

He started, this time, by locking the door. Then, he took off his coat and rolled it into a line of cloth. This he pushed against the crack under the stop. He drew the curtains and, because it was available to him, he uncorked a bottle of wine.

It wasn’t the most popular drink available in the Mojave, but Arcade retained a fondness for it.

After letting himself unwind with a couple glasses, he moved to the bed, shedding his shirt on the way and draping it over the headboard. Stretching out and reclining back on his elbows, he undid his belt with a dark sort of satisfaction. Privacy really was golden. He pulled it through the loops, savoring the slight friction that created, and cast it to the floor.

Thumbing his nipples with one hand and palming himself with the other, he thought briefly about what Boone must be doing right now. It was uncharitable to think that after drinking he might go out whoring, but the possibility was there.

Maybe.

To distract himself from the notion, he unbuttoned his pants and wiggled out of them partially, watching the play of contracting muscle with a tipsy sort of concentration.

Had he gotten a bit softer in his time here? Arcade doubted the likelihood of that; he was regularly called upon to walk miles across the open desert and to hike up impossibly steep cliff faces for the sake of personal discovery. But, smoothing a hand over his stomach, it was easier to believe that he might be better fed.

Unnoticed, his hand had sped its tempo, stroking his member to complete attention through the loose fabric. He shivered and lifted his hips off the bed, sliding both underwear and trousers down to pool at his ankles.

Arcade gripped around the base of his cock and pulled upwards slowly, marveling as the clear bead at the top welled up and over. He gathered it up and bit his lip as he spread the moisture over his head and down the length of the shaft. Now with a bit of lubrication, and already producing more at a comfortable rate, he began to beat off in earnest. Each down stroke was punctuated with a low groan, too pent up sexually to deny the small gift of being able to vocalize his pleasure.

He bet that his party of one was better than whatever Boone might be getting up to, anyway. Sure, he thought, another hand trumps your own on any occasion, but at least I know what I like.

And Arcade was certain that he could figure out what the sniper went for in the bedroom better than a Gomorrah prostitute, without a doubt, but there he was again. Dreaming of impossibilities.

His hips began to move of their own accord. It wouldn’t be too long now. He let go of his cock and it flexed in the air briefly, searching for that lost contact. He spat into his palm; no use in chaffing. They probably chaffed quite a bit at Gomorrah.

As he took himself in hand again and formed a tight seal with his fist, Arcade heard a noise like the moaning of a deeply rusted hinge. While it might have been him, and he doubted it, the sound of his own steadily pumping hand was enough to drown most of everything out, and he wrote it off.

Lying back fully and dragging a hand through the covers repeatedly, he gasped as he suddenly hit a plateau, arching off the mattress. Arcade rasped wetly and locked on to some point in the distance. Wrist working double-time, a flash of magnesium hit behind his eyes, and pearly white ropes of release splashed over his knuckles and on to his stomach. He stroked himself through it, breathing harshly, and finally collapsed against the bed.

After allowing himself to simply pant for a minute, he sat up- with effort -and went still as a corpse. Standing in the doorway, mouth open and cheeks glowing with drink, was Boone.

His coat lay trapped under the door, and at last the odd noise made sense. It had forced the top of the frame to rub unpleasantly against the edge of the door, and the hinges had whined in warning.

Which of course he had paid no mind to.

For a small portion of eternity, they stared at one another.

“Some people, a demographic I recently thought you belonged to, knock,” he tried unsteadily.

His jaw clenched and unclenched.

“Could you,” Boone started, abruptly turning and closing the door. Which had been locked, by the way, hadn’t he locked it?

“Didn’t I-“

“You did. I picked it open. Sorry.”

As if in a state of complete fugue, Boone moved to rectify his offense, and locked the door again. Arcade was beginning to feel uneasy.

It was with belated embarrassment that he realized he was still stark naked and rather unbecomingly covered in his own rapidly cooling ejaculate. That may have contributed to it.

“I- you’re forgiven. Listen, I kind of need to clean up,” he tried, and pulled his shirt from off the headboard behind him in an attempt to cover up a bit. Why he hadn’t already suffered some kind of stroke was beyond him, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d gotten off not a couple minutes before. Oh, fate.

“You know how loud you are when you do that?” Boone asked, and the shirt was suddenly no amount of modesty for his growing shame.
“Very. You’re very loud, Gannon.”

The unexpected curtness with which he was being addressed was too strange for him to feel anything but worried confusion. “I’m sorry about that- I didn’t think anyone would be home right now.”

As if noticing the dimmed lamp for the first time, he removed his sunglasses and folded them into a tight hand, staring. Again with the blank but unwittingly soulful eyes.

“It’s three in the morning.” He paused. “Maybe more like four.”

Is he being serious? Is it really that late? “I had no idea. Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you, but… is there, you know, a specific reason that you feel the need to linger to tell me? Couldn’t this wait until morning?” Later in the morning? Much later?

“I’m drunk,” Boone offered.

Patience getting a bit short and feeling less than willing to cooperate with mind games, Arcade snapped, “And I’m sure that’s hard for you.”

“It-“ This conversation was rapidly developing a pattern. “It is,” Boone clarified, clearing his throat in an uncommon display of humanity and startling Arcade enough for him to almost miss the connotation of his next words. “Hard. It's hard.”

The thought clicked into place. “It might be wise for you to go take care of that, then.”

As if he’d been waiting for a phrase similar to this one, Boone nodded unevenly.

“Yeah, could you?”

“I uh. What?”

“Could you take care of that?”

If he weren’t so totally and completely unprepared for this turn in behavior, maybe Arcade might have been offended for being so blatantly propositioned. As it was, he was having trouble even understanding if that was the case.

“You want me to what?” he asked, voice high.

Boone shuffled in place, almost like he was adjusting something and why, who decided this was his punishment? “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said hurriedly, ducking and looking
almost like he was about to put his sunglasses back on.

“I don’t understand-“

“I want you to suck my dick or something.”

“-oh.”

That... well, okay. Or something.

“Are you sure?”

Boone nodded again, more confidently this time, and took a few steps forward. “I got drunk.”

“I can see that.”

“I was hoping it would make it easier to ask you.”

Out of all the ways he could have found out, this was possibly the strangest. Arcade was at once giddy and then terrified; it was a loaded gun and he was holding it the wrong way. Anything he said now, if Boone remembered it later, could be held against him.

“And did it?”

Boone walked until his knee connected with the edge of the bed, then he sat awkwardly, as if he was doing so without permission.

“Yes, and I’d really like an answer now please.”

I want to gently lay my head on this fic. Lovin' it, A!A.

I love this story already. I think I started reading this unintentionally.. now it's sticking in the back of my mind and I keep checking for more. Please please please.

D: Anon apologizes for the slow updating- there is a part c and d and if I can't control Boone there might even be an epilogue-ish part 3. But the power has been acting funny at my place (freaking snow), so I've taken to writing the old fashioned way and using my laptop carefully.

If it's any consolation, you could expect an update by the ~latest Saturday morning.

sending warm thoughts and cocoa :)

This is amazing, a!a! I'm totes digging it, and also sending warm thoughts. Have some of this Texas heat <3

Quick question to OP- would you prefer that this end with Arcade/Boone sexytime, or with just Arcade on his own?

Oh my God, I didn't even realize that it was unfinished I was so COMPLETELY AND ABSOLUTELY THRILLED BY THIS, A!A. HOT AND INCREDIBLY WELL-WRITTEN AND EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER HOPED FOR IN MY LIFE. Topping it off with Arcade/Boone sexytime would be like a second Christmas, you have no idea jfc

Just going to go memorize the first half into my heart and soul in the meantime

Oh my God I didn't even see this until now. Darn it, derpjournal.

Okay dokay! Just wanted to know how you wanted it to go, will be off to finish it and some more should be up by tonight? I'm not sure how many parts 2 is going to be yet, what with the character limits and all.

STILL though, glad to know people are liking it and reading it adjkhlsk it's been so long since I've written anything porny.

not the OP but I'd love to see some hardcore A/B

all this Arcade/Boone in the past day is killing me with UST and porn and I LOVE IT.

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

Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Can't Find No Sweet Release 1a/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 1b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 1b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 1b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 1b/2

Can't Find No Sweet Release 1d/2

Can't Find No Sweet Release 2a/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 2b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 2b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 2b/2

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 2b/2

can't wait

Re: Can't Find No Sweet Release 2b/2

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation - A!A Facepalms

Re: Solo!Arcade(/Boone), masturbation