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

[falloutkinkmeme_backup]

Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

GO TO THE LATEST PAGE TO POST NEW PROMPTS

---

PINBOARD ARCHIVE: Filled Prompts | Unfilled Prompts

• Fallout Kink Meme posting guidelines


• Read something? Love something? No matter how old the story is, please let our amazing authors and artists know that you enjoyed their work with a nice comment, and share the love by recommending your favorite fills!

Comments

Bison Steve Blues (4b/5)

[(Anonymous)]

Sooner than he would have liked, Arcade became overcome with the sensation of Boone’s thrusting and his own stroking. He came messily in between them, back arching and reckless moans falling from his lips. If nothing, Arcade was a dramatic sort of bastard. Boone, too, was soon overcome by the sensuous moans of his arching lover, and by the tightening of Arcade’s insides around him as he came. Unlike his lover, though, Boone was more reserved, only permitting low sighs and deep breaths to signal his orgasm. He released deep inside his lover with a final thrust, then lay still a moment, hoping he was crushing Arcade underneath his weight. He need not have worried, as Arcade found the nearness pleasant, and even kissed Boone’s neck lightly in response. They laid there a moment longer, Arcade relaxing as best he could, trapped between the hard felt pool table and Boone’s weight. Arcade reflected on the sensation of his lover going soft inside of him as they lay there, and found that he didn’t mind so much.

Boone finally had enough strength in his arms to pick himself up again and detangle his limbs from Arcade’s. Next, he carefully removed his flaccid penis from his lover, going scarlet again at the simply obscene sound it made. Boone slid off of the pool table, inwardly groaning as his knees shouted painfully at him for kneeling on that blasted pool table. Next, he held a hand out to help Gannon off of the pool table. Arcade stretched languidly, and Boone averted his eyes, under the pretext of gathering their clothes. This didn’t escape Arcade, however, who smirked inwardly and made it a point to walk over to where Boone was bent over. “So, come here often,” Arcade inquired in a burlesque smooth talking cadence, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that his junk was in Boone’s face. Boone straightened up, unsurprisingly flushed and sporting a stern visage. “You’re incorrigible,” he grunted back, slinging the mess of clothes onto the table.

“That’s why you love me,” Arcade said back, with more ease than he felt. He hadn’t meant to say those words; they just kind of slipped out. Three months ago, they wouldn’t have mattered. They would have just been another of Gannon’s World Famous Witty Jaunts. Now, however, they gave Arcade pause. Because just what, exactly, was their relationship? Arcade could now grudgingly admit to himself that he felt quite fond of Boone, but what if the other man didn’t feel the same way? Suddenly very in danger of going red in the face himself, Arcade busied himself with sorting the clothing into piles, not giving Boone the chance to respond. They dressed in silence.

Arcade, however, was not very good at silence. “Hey, Boone,” he started softly. Boone looked up from buttoning his pants to show that he had his attention. “Did you ever think about telling people about, um, us?” Judging by the shocked look on Boone’s face, that was a definite no. “Well,” continued Arcade nervously, “I certainly don’t mean the whole Mojave. I don’t even mean acquaintances. Just the people close to us.” Arcade finished flatly, wishing he had never even brought it up.

“I just—um, our relationship is, uh, well I just feel like it’s our business,” Boone responded, clearly uncomfortable. Without meaning to, Arcade felt himself becoming angry with Boone—and angry with himself. ‘This is what happens when you care about people…’ he thought bitterly. “I just don’t like the thought of other people in our business,” Boone continued, reading Arcade’s lack of comment as dangerous. “I mean, even the Courier doesn’t know…”

“Of course the Courier knows,” Arcade said stiffly, acting like he was quite engaged in getting the buttons of his shirt done up correctly. When he was finished he glanced up at Boone’s face, which was incredulous. “Boone, she knows. Trust me. Why do you think she always pairs us up on recon missions? Hell, she even gave us a tent to share.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Boone said gruffly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Besides, why do you want to tell people about us,” Boone said, trying to change the conversation.