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Six would be the first one to admit it. This had been a bad idea.
She’d debated between going back toward civilization and stocking up, or pushing onward and pushing their luck at the same time. Vault 3 was nearby, and she wanted to get it cleared out for Colonel Hsu, but she was dangerously low on stimpaks. And pretty much everything else, honestly. In the end, she’d decided to go. There might be lives at stake, and she always felt unhealthily responsible for saving people - Arcade had called it a savior complex, but she ignored him, much to his annoyance. Besides, it was only some Fiends, how bad could it be?
Turns out it could be very bad. Very, very, life-threateningly bad.
Boone had been kind enough not to say ‘I told you so’. Yet. But she felt it was coming. She deserved that at the very least.
He was the one that had taken a knife to the ribs. Twice. And he was the one that had to walk through the Mojave heat while blood pooled under his armor. He was also the one who had to suffer through stitches completely un-sedated and barely medicated. Then, after all that, he was the one who had to put up with her as his crutch as they stumbled down the Strip.
He'd put up a brave face the whole time, as much as his stern expression ever changed, but Six was very glad McCarran was close enough to reasonably retreat to. As long as she pushed the limits on how far ‘reasonable’ was, that is. With him patched up but in no condition to walk more than a few yards, they took the monorail back to the Strip. Six quickly came to realize that the ghost town of a casino they used as a base-camp was, quite frankly, unfairly far from literally everything else. But she wanted to get Boone somewhere that resembled home, he’d earned a little R&R - which she would have to strictly enforce when he refused to sit still for more than five minutes like the stubborn ass- no, man. Like the stubborn man he was. She couldn't be too harsh on him.
He was unsteady just standing still on his own two feet by the time she dropped him (accidentally, he was quite a bit bigger than her) on the bed in the main room of the suite. ‘Hers’ according to the rest of their friends, who all seemed rather unhelpfully gone at the moment. However, she was more than willing to give it up and sleep in one of the other beds. Or on a couch. Really, she wasn’t picky. He was the one who got stabbed, so he got the nice bed. Seemed fair.
In her defense, Boone didn’t seem to be putting up any arguments. Though, as she leaned in closer to check, he was already down for the count, having passed out the second he hit the soft sheets. She chuckled and gently slipped his sunglasses and beret off, setting them on the side table. A consequence of how little he slept, it didn’t take much to overtax his system and his body had a habit of shutting down out from underneath him as soon as it was safe to do so.
She unloaded their packs and took care of their gear as quietly as she could, hoping not to disturb his much-needed rest. Sitting at the desk so she could keep an eye on him, she disassembled and cleaned his rifle. It was all she could think of in the moment to try and make it up to him in any slight way. He was hurt because of her choice, and that preyed on her guilt. A clean gun wouldn’t make up for the events of the afternoon, but at least she felt like she was doing something.
He didn’t even twitch when she approached the bed again to lean the weapon against the wall within arm’s reach; he was a light sleeper on good days and that would usually wake him up. She’d be worried if it weren’t for the sound of his deep breaths - she wouldn’t call it snoring to his face - calm and as sniper-steady as ever.
Satisfied, she left him to sleep, deciding to quickly rinse off the sweat from the hard day and change into something less dust-covered and bloodstained. They’d had the chance at McCarran and she’d practically forced Boone to, if only to help keep the wound clean, but she’d missed her chance when she’d gotten pulled into a conversation with Colonel Hsu and she wasn’t about to make Boone wait.
Walking back into the bedroom, dropping her dirty clothes in a pile to be washed later, she noticed Boone was awake. It was kinda hard to miss, actually, because he was sitting up, grimacing with the pain, moving stiffly toward one side of the bed. Like the stubborn ass he was - no sense in denying it now.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded,
“Getting up,” he grumbled, setting his feet on the floor.
“N-no you are not. You’re staying right th-there.”
“I’m not made out of paper, Six, I’m fine.” He rolled his eyes,
“You’re going to pull your stitches,” she argued, striding across the room to stand directly in front of him, blocking him from standing right away.
“I hardly needed them in the first place. I’m fine.”
Instead of countering, Six poked him in the sternum with a couple fingers and shoved. She could see the exact moment Boone’s muscles tensed to try and keep his balance and he hissed in pain before going limp, flopping back onto the bed.
“Yeah, you’re right, you definitely don’t n-need that mobil-lity or an-n-nything,”
“If I pulled stitches, it’s your fault,” Boone muttered to the ceiling.
“You’re staying put, an-nd that’s final.”
“This is stupid, I don’t need coddled.”
“Do you n-need persuaded then?”
Boone paused, then lifted his head,
“What?”
“Do you need persuaded to stay in bed?” Six asked again, sweeter, with a subtle sultry timbre.
That certainly seemed to catch his attention. He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her, only to narrow his eyes suspiciously as she stepped closer to the bed, nudging one of his knees out of the way so she could stand between them. Her movements were slow and calculated, drifting her fingertips up the tops of his thighs and hooking onto the belt loops in the front. She stopped there, holding his gaze and waiting for him to give her some kind of affirmation before continuing.
“You can try,” he allowed, aiming for indifference. Six knew him well enough by now to hear the underlying excitement in his voice and she smiled at her little victory.
She undid his belt, popped open the button, and pulled the zipper down without breaking their eye contact – at least until his eyes closed and he shivered lightly as she traced her fingernails above his waistband and followed the faint line of darker hair up his belly with one finger and an almost-sharp pressure.
Then she pulled away entirely, turned around, and sat just in front of his lap on the very edge of the bed. She heard him let out a quiet huff. Hiding her snicker, she reached down and lifted his foot, plucking at the laces of his boot so she could pull it and his sock off; once she’d repeated the process for the other one, she gathered them up and went to go place them neatly by the door – which she closed. And locked.
She could feel his eyes on her as she stepped over to the small wardrobe, and she knew he’d be tracking every movement while she methodically undressed. This was by no means a strip tease, not one you’d find at Gomorrah at least. No, she kept it tortuously casual, and very purposefully slow. Boone was known for his patience. But to her that just meant it was more fun to push the limits every now and then. When she was down to her bra and panties, she finally returned to her place by the bed.
He’d pushed to sit up further, leaning back with his hands on the bed behind him now, but other than that he hadn’t moved. She didn’t think it was her command that kept him there as much as it was the promise of what was coming. She smoothed her hands up his sides, underneath the hem of his shirt, pushing it up as she went. He got the hint and let her maneuver him until she could slip it free from one arm then the other, then off.
Now that he was bare from the waist up, save for some bandages and his dog tags glinting in the low light, she rested a hand on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart for a moment before carefully pushing him back down to his elbows. There were no teasing brushes of her fingertips against him now. She moved with purpose as she tugged his fly open further and started easing the stiff fabric down his thighs. He bit his tongue to keep himself from gasping at the feel of the cooler air hitting his quickly hardening cock. She folded the pants, and then the shirt, starting a small stack at the foot of the bed. She was doing it on purpose. He knew by now that a sarcastic quip would only make her draw it out longer, so he kept the many he had to himself. She could practically see him holding them all at bay. He did pull her down toward him, though, to steal a kiss as she removed his last article of clothing. Her eagerness to return it might've explained why she didn’t bother folding those too.
As much as she loved getting lost in the hunger of Boone's kiss, she had a goal in mind. She backed away, giving him a wicked smile, making sure his eyes were on her as she knelt, sliding her hands down his body as she went until they reached their destination. He let out a harsh breath at the first touch of her hand against his cock and then immediately sucked the air back in at the press of her lips. He fought to keep his eyes open as she kissed a wet line up his shaft to his head. She lapped over the slit a few times before she opened her mouth and drew the first few inches of his length into the wet heat. That’s what got the first moan out of him, short and rough, music to her ears. She wanted him to make more of those intoxicating noises, and she used every trick in the book to have him melting underneath her.
She pressed her tongue to the vein that ran along the underside, feeling his pulse thrumming as she drew back to seal her lips around the head and suck harshly, wrapping her hand around what wasn’t in her mouth anymore. He groaned and his hand flashed out to the back of her head. He didn’t push her, just wove his fingers through her hair as encouragement rather than guidance. She could feel his grip tighten when she swirled her tongue around him in just the right way, and as she kept that up he let out a broken curse, hips twitching up into her mouth. That made her ease back, relying more on her hand and the curl of her wrist now. On one particularly slick twist he cursed again, but she felt the muscles in his thighs slacken under her hands as he forced himself to relax. She purred out an approving hum that undid his efforts, his body tensing again as he fought valiantly not to move.
“Jesus, Six, your mouth,” he moaned, falling flat onto his back so he could get both hands on her. One almost tenderly combed her long hair out of the way, the other possessively tucked against the back of her neck, large enough to still hold the side of her face; she sucked until her cheek hollowed under his palm. The sound he made was absolutely delicious.
This was not a first for them. They’d denied their feelings for so long that the physical aspect of the relationship was still relatively new, but even so, this they were no stranger to. Problem was, this wasn’t just another night when they had the safety and energy to indulge. This was for Boone. This was so he knew how much she appreciated him. Something of an apology and thanks wrapped up together. And also to make his legs weak enough he couldn’t stand up, but that was probably secondary here. Six wanted this to be something more. So to make it more, she had to do more. She dragged his length from her mouth, gave it one last caress before settling her hands on the crease of hip and thigh, then surged forward again, further, and further, until the head of his cock was threatening the back of her throat. She paused, breathed heavily through her nose twice, then pushed further still, swallowing him down slowly. She pinned him down to the bed with her hands, and she could feel the effort he put into staying still. They’d tried this before with only moderate success, she was a very petite woman and Boone was – well, not. But the ragged breathing and constant stream of moans, cut-off words, and colorful expletives from him was… inspiring. She focused on keeping her throat relaxed, and breathing at the right moments, to great effect. He was unravelling beneath her with every bob of her head.
“Fuck, Six! I’m-“ is as much as he got before she pulled out all the stops, cupping his balls in one hand, digging into his hip with the other with a slight tug to encourage him to fuck back into her throat at his own pace. That’s when his grip became the guidance he’d avoided earlier, holding her head more firmly in place. He snapped his hips forward in a handful of stuttered thrusts before he spilled down her throat with a deep groan, back arching up off the bed, her hair a mess around his clenching fingers.
She swallowed around him just to feel him jolt before she let him fall from her mouth and sat up, slipping away from his grasp so his hands fell limply onto the bed.
“Fuck,” he repeated, emphatically. She chuckled, swiping her thumb across her lower lip and sucking it clean. He shuddered when he caught the sight, eyes snapping shut again.
“You’re going to stay put n-now, right?” she teased, voice hoarse and wrecked.
He just groaned as something resembling a proper response. She laughed out loud, and even that was smokey and warm.
“C’mon, scoot up.” She tossed his legs up onto the bed with enough force that he rolled a little.
He just laid there for a second, but eventually got his bearings and shifted lazily to the head of the bed and onto his back. His breaths were back to a practiced even tempo, but his chest still heaved and for him, that was practically panting. But rather than lay still to wind down, he threw out an arm toward her, beckoning her over.
“C’mere,”
“I’m going to get food,”
“Nah you're gonna c'mere,” he argued without looking at her, or even opening his eyes.
“Boone, you don-n’t have to ‘take care of me’,” she giggled, “that was just for you,”
“I will get up and come get you,” he warned, lifting his head to give her a challenging look.
Her eyes darted down to the patch of white taped firmly against his ribs, then back up to his face. He would. She sighed and sauntered back over, sitting on the edge next to him.
For what he had in mind, she wasn’t nearly close enough, so he leaned over to snag her, snaking his arms around for a secure hold and hauling her up bodily to straddle his chest.
“Craig!” she scolded from her perch. First name, so he’d know he was in trouble. Unrepentant, he just settled himself comfortably, scooting down to put a little more space between him and the headboard; then he gave her ass a light smack,
“Up,” he said,
“What? No, Boone, real-ly-”
He interrupted by literally pulling her up higher himself, getting his arms under her and lifting her over him so her thighs were on either side of his head.
“Boone, this was supposed to make you feel better.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, like she was missing something obvious.
“… you sure?”
“I could just throw you down onto the bed. If you’d prefer.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers and she could see the hunger, the raw honesty in them.
With a shaky sigh she nodded, then dismounted to shimmy her panties down over her hips and onto the floor. It's not that she believed he would tear them, she just wouldn't be surprised if he did, and she liked that pair. His eyes were glued to the shine of wetness clinging to the rough curls between her legs as she got back up over him. She gave him one more questioning look and he put his hands heavily on her hips as an answer. She lowered herself carefully, a little unsure and out of her depth – if she’d done this before she didn’t remember it. How was she supposed to do this? What if he couldn’t breathe? Was she supposed to move? How did-
Every single thought she’d ever had, and several she hadn’t thought yet, up and vanished as Boone lifted his head and dragged his tongue through her folds up toward her clit.
“Christ you taste good,” he groaned. She squeaked in reply.
His fingertips dug divots into the flesh of her hips and ass as he clutched her closer and directed her movements, rolling her hips over him. As pleasure surged through her, the doubts and self-conscious concerns were washed away so she took over for him soon enough, settling into a rhythm that had fire building in her veins. When she ground down onto his face a little harder she still had a moment of anxiety but it was blown away when what she got in response was Boone moaning so loud she could feel it reverberate from where his tongue had pressed into her.
“Oh, god!” She clung to the wooden headboard so hard her nails were making furrows as her hips worked to pull every ounce of pleasure she could from Boone’s willing mouth. She was climbing faster than she ever had before from just this, already starting to feel a tremor in the muscles of her thighs. She just about shattered when she felt two of his fingers glide through the slick dripping out of her, dipping into her entrance tentatively before pushing in little by little, letting her adjust as she rocked back onto them. He started thrusting them into her in tandem with his tongue flicking over her clit and she nearly doubled over as lightning scattered down to her every last nerve, white hot and still building. She might’ve been talking? She was at least forming the words, but it didn’t feel like she had the breath to speak them. She was probably begging. But Boone knew. He buried his fingers deep and curled them, stroking sudden pressure against that spot along the front of her walls. She was gone, lost to the starburst of white that sparked behind her eyelids and that gripping pleasure that had her shuddering on top of him.
When she came back down from the stratosphere she was slouched over him, holding onto the bedframe with shivering arms, meeting Boone’s entirely too-smug gaze as he stroked his thumbs over her hipbones and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip to gather her taste like he was savoring a particularly well-made meal. With jello for legs, and his help, she collapsed onto the bed next to him and readily accepted his arm around her shoulders tucking her in closer.
“Now I’ll stay. For a while,” he said with a sly humor in his tone.
“If I go get us din-n-ner am I going to come back to you tryin’ to get up again?”
“Depends on how long you take.” Boone gave her one of his mythically rare mischievous smiles and she laughed, still breathless,
“God save me, I’m n-not getting out of this bed until-l that heals, am I?”
“Not if I have any say in it,” he leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips and she could taste a hint of herself as he pulled away.
Maybe she could be persuaded to stay.