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

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Generous ASSets, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

The courier flattened her back against a patch of concrete wall all of a sudden, and it took Boone a moment to retroactively process the short bark of laughter echoing down a shattered side street that had caused her to do it. Christ almighty just let the fuckers kill me, he thought pitifully, but copied her movements all the same after deftly unlimbering his rifle from his back. She gave him a dark look, and he realized he must have cussed again, this time a lot louder. The shuffling of Fiends had gone quiet.

Carefully, she bent and slid a shard of broken mirror out of a strap on her thigh, then, angling it slightly more toward the broken asphalt to not catch the glint of the sun, held it out just past the corner next to her to take a look down the side avenue. Boone scanned the buildings around them, checking for any Fiends clever enough to use the high ground - and sober enough to use it without deciding they could fly and suicide-diving off. He'd seen one do that once. Funniest thing he'd ever seen, truth be told, but given his own occasional depression-induced affairs with chems, he'd checked the body to see what they were using - Psycho, go figure - and made a mental note to never touch the stuff again. At least not when he planned to be any more than ten feet up.

She was retracting the mirror, quietly nodding to indicate the coast was clear for the moment, but he spotted movement in a busted window over her head and across the street, and - instinctively, honest - reached out to grab her waist and drag her out of their line of sight.

What he got was a handful of round, pliant-yet-firm, leatherclad asscheek.

He could practically hear her mental alarms going off, just under the din of his own, which were loud enough to split his eardrums from the inside.

"Boone," she whispered.

He cleared his throat. "Uh. Six?"

"Why are you grabbing my ass?"

"... Not what I meant to do."

She nodded slowly. "Normally I'd accept that. But..."

Boone swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

"But you should probably let go of it now, fuckhead."

A beat, then another. Then his brain kicked back in and he unclamped his hand like he'd burned it - Jesus dick, but that butt was hot enough he probably had - and stumbled back, ears going red. Distantly, he reflected on the fact that his hand could almost still feel that fantastic, supple curve under it, and there were nerve endings there and a whole lot of other places on his anatomy that really wished he actually could.