Buffalo Bill

This story was originally posted on the Fallout kinkmeme by myself. The prompt asked for Arcade in some pink undies.

 

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Arcade swayed to the light music playing in the dimly lit room. With the Lucky 38 empty (the courier had said something about trying her luck at the Gomorrah) and his boredom steadily growing, Arcade found himself clad in only his followers coat, glasses, and a pair of lacy pink panties he'd found during his travels with the courier. A past-time he could never really indulge while at the Fort had reared its ugly head practically before the courier had taken her first step out of the suite. Now, as he positioned the less than perfect mirror into position, he felt a bit of his self-restrain let loose.

 

“Would you fuck me?” he suddenly asked the chipped mirror, applying more of the homemade lipstick the Courier had lying around the suite. It's for business, was the only explanation he remembered getting out of the unexpectedly tight lipped courier. Brushing aside the thought, he gave another slow sway of his hips and pushed the lab coat off his shoulder. Arcade gave his reflection a smoldering look, “I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me hard.”

 

The coat was then completely pushed off his person and he admired himself in the mirror. Skin slightly red from the trekking with the courier from the neck up, but the rest was of him was pale, making the pink panties stand out drastically. He ran a hand through the blond locks, trailed it down his neck, tweaked a nub as the hand traveled lower and lower. His finger feathered over the growing bulge straining against the panties, the head of his cock peeking out of the hem.

 

“Hey Arcade, you seen my lucky –”

 

At the sound of the voice, Arcade's head snapped towards the door and he found the courier. Frozen at the threshold with a lit cigarette dangerously close to falling out of her gaping mouth, she stared wide eyed at the scene before her. Neither moved an inch for a good long minute, but it felt like an eternity to Arcade, who was still only clad in the lacy number with a raging hard on.

 

A choked noise escaped the courier as she slowly took a step into the dimly lit room to take hold of the door knob, “Um, well, you're obviously busy. So, I'll just close this for you. You just go ahead and keep doing what you're doing.” Cautiously closing the door, the courier paused before completely removing herself from the awkward situation to leave Arcade with a piece of advice. “You know, there are these wonderful things on doors. They're called locks, you should really do some research on them.”

 

And just like that, the courier was gone and Arcade cursed his horrible luck.