What’re Friends For?
Arcade Gannon x F! Reader
You and Arcade accidentally pick up some reproductive enhancement spores in Vault 22, fuckery ensues
It felt like it had been an eternity since you began uploading the data from the research terminal in Vault 22. The deeper you had gone into the vault the more stifling the air had become, your sweat had stopped evaporating and you were starting to feel sticky under your clothes. Arcade seemed to be just as uncomfortable as you were, pacing restlessly, periodically lifting his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose and grumble.
“It’s so damn hot in here,” he whines, swiping his damp hair back out of his face with a palm. “I thought I hated how dry the desert is but this is way worse.”
“Quit bitching and make sure more of those things don’t sneak up on us. We’ll get out of here as soon as the data’s done uploading.”
“You said that ten minutes ago too.”
“Yeah well it’s almost done now. It was a lot of data.”
The terminal beeps and you eject the holotape, tucking it into your pack and turning to your companion. “Okay, we’re good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
The return to the surface is seemingly uneventful. No more spore carriers jumping from clumps of tropical plants, no mantises, just the thick oppressive air of the vault. It wasn’t until you left the lush alcove between the mountains that you began to notice something may be wrong.
Your profuse sweating refused to ease and your skin felt like it was stretched too tight over your bones.
“Hey ‘Cade, do you feel weird too?” Darkness begins to eat away at the edges of your vision.
“Yeah, it’s probably heat exhaustion. There’s a Followers safe house nearby we can stop at to cool off before we head back.”
“Okay, yeah probably. Sounds good. Lead the way.”
—-
The safehouse was a shack cobbled together from corrugated metal and lined with partially preserved planks to insulate it. As soon as Arcade had locked the door behind you, you were tugging off your boots and socks and pressing the soles of your feet into the cool packed-earth floor. Arcade had shed his lab coat and tossed it haphazardly over a chair, but continued to pace the hovel. He was starting to make you dizzy.
“Arcade, please, for the love of God stop moving,” you cry, burying your face in your hands and shivering. “I feel like my fuckin’ heads gonna explode and you’re acting like a roulette ball.”
“Water. We need water. You know it’s hard for me to sit still when I’m stressed,” he prattles, pulling two cans of water from a crate and offering you one.
“Right. And what is it you’re thinking? We picked up something nasty in there?”
“Maybe. We don’t know what exactly caused the vault’s inhabitants to become those things we saw. How the spores got into them I mean.” Arcade looks like he’s spent the entire day working outside as opposed to underground, a deep flush tints his face and creeps into the collar of his shirt, which is clinging to him with sweat. His blond hair is dark at the scalp and plastered to his skin, and he’s starting to really smell like a man. “Probably airborn.”
“If you’re worried about us turning into those things we can quarantine ourselves here until- Jesus Christ,” you interrupt yourself wiping at the sweat running down your face and into your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry but it’s too damn hot in here, I gotta-“ you begin shucking off your armor and letting it clatter to the floor unceremoniously before kicking off your jeans and peeling your T-shirt from your body.
“Not like it does anything for me,” he jokes, pulling his own shoes off and kicking them under the coffee table. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. This shirt is absolutely disgusting.”
You get up and begin digging in the chest in the corner for something you can use to dry yourself off with and come up with only a pillowcase. It’s good enough to get the job done and you begin patting at the base of your skull with it to rid yourself of the tacky feeling. “Shouldn’t we have at least started cooling off by now,” you question, wiping your face and discarding the cloth.
“Yeah, probably. I don’t know, maybe we are dying,” he replies, shuffling out of his clothes and sprawling on the bed in nothing but his boxers.
“Arcade, why the fuck would you say that?”
“I don’t know! I’m nervous,” he yells, rolling away from you with a groan.
“Clearly. Jesus Christ, do you itch too?”
“I mean kinda, it’s probably the sweat.”
“Whatever. It’s too hot for this shit. Don’t look, or do. I really don’t give a shit anymore,” you growl, tossing your bra across the room and peeling your underwear down your legs, throwing yourself face-first onto the bed farthest from his.
“Again, not exactly titillated by the female form. I’m gonna look through those files and see if I can find anything about whatever it is we have going on.”
You laugh humorlessly in response and roll onto your side, trying to ignore the fact that your pulse is hammering through your entire body. You can hear Arcade behind you, rooting in your pack and then going to town on the terminal’s keyboard. He continues bitching under his breath, incomprehensible, but annoyed nonetheless, his voice ping-ponging around in your hazy brain. Your thighs rub together thoughtlessly and you’re made extremely aware of a new, even more obnoxious symptom of whatever this is. Another groan, but this time you stifle it with your fist, glancing over your shoulder to ensure your companion is still occupied before allowing your free hand to drift between your slick thighs. The relief is near instantaneous and you dig your teeth into your pointer finger to keep from whining.
“So apparently they were trying to find a way to increase fertility rates in the crops and- are you fucking kidding me dude?”
You cast a wide-eyed gaze over your shoulder at having been caught and hastily move your hand away from your soaked cunt. “Okay, well it’s not really my fault now is it-”
Arcade shakes his head and makes a sound of absolute disbelief. “Maybe not, but I’m literally right here.”
“I made sure you weren't looking, besides you don’t exactly seem comfortable either,” you counter, gesturing to the obvious tent in his boxers. Your mouth waters a little at the sight and you quickly shake the thought away.
“I have the decency not to touch myself with other people in the room.”
“Yeah, okay. But it seemed to help, so maybe you should go jerk off in the corner or something. Promise I won’t look.”
“You are unbelievable.” He pulls his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I mean actually-”
“If you want to suffer through this I’m not gonna stop you. Do you have a better idea, Smartass?”
“Well, no.”
“Okay, well I say we go to opposite sides of the room, don’t look at each other, handle it, and then act like it never happened.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah. Sure. I can’t fucking believe this,” he grumbles, going back to the furthest bed and sitting with his back to you. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he grumbles.
“I’m not gonna look.”
“You better not.”
You laugh again and roll back over, returning your attention to your own problems. Your fingers slide into your cunt with no resistance and you sigh as you brush your thumb over your clit. The more you work yourself, the more your pulse recedes until it’s almost back to being a hammering in your ribcage. The fist in your mouth does nothing to muffle the sounds coming from between your legs, so you thoughtlessly roll onto your back and spread your legs.
Arcade groans softly from the other side of the room, and you focus on the pain of your teeth digging into your pointer finger trying to ignore the slick sound of him fisting his cock. The roof of the shack is rusted, and sunlight streams through a small hole, you ignore the sound of Arcade’s bed creaking as he shifts.
"You feel any better?”
“Shut the hell up,” he huffs, the sound of his hand accelerating slightly.
“Starting to think this is only keeping it from getting worse,” you whine, stifling another moan with your pillow.
“Oh my God, seriously.” He’s genuinely pissed now and his voice is worming its way into your head and straight to your core.
“Okay, I’ll shut up, but… keep talking. Please.”
“About what,” he snaps, and you can hear that he’s taking his frustration out on himself. Your thighs clench around your hand at the thought.
“I don’t know, anything. What did the research notes say?”
“I didn’t get very far because somebody interrupted me being a pervert.”
“You are so bad at this,” you groan, stealing a glance over at him. His entire body is flushed and slicked with sweat and his cock is so pretty standing at attention in his fist. He glares over at you and your eyes meet for a brief second before you cast your gaze back to the roof.
“You said you wouldn’t look.”
“So did you. You have a pretty dick.”
“Shut up…,” he growls, slamming his head into the pillow repeatedly in frustration.
“Anybody else ever tell you that? So pretty… just begging to be sucked. I’ll do it, if you want.”
“That’ll just, ah, make things weird.” It’s not lost on you that his hand hasn’t left himself as he speaks.
“Oh, because pollen that makes you so horny you die is normal,” you snap back, sitting up and staring at him shamelessly.
“Okay, if you think it’ll help I’ll let you suck my dick, but just this once. As a friend,” he adds, sitting on the edge of the bed and parting his thighs to make space for you.
“As a friend,” you confirm, sinking to your knees in front of him, grabbing his calf and pulling his right leg forward slightly, straddling it.
“What are you-”
“I’m gonna get something outta this too,” you murmur, lowering your cunt to his shin.
“Oh my G- okay. Sure. Whatever. Oh-”
Arcade sounds genuinely surprised when you take him into your mouth despite the fact that you had literally just agreed to this arrangement. You moan at the taste of him, taking him deep as you grip his thighs and rut yourself against his leg like some sort of feral beast. His hands tangle in your hair and you let him use you to get off as you focus on chasing your own release against him. You’re both sweaty, moaning messes as you use each other in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the God-awful ache that you couldn’t chase away by yourselves, but hey, what are friends for?
You moan around him as you reach your peak, making him pull your hair harshly as he cums down your throat with an almost pained sound. You swallow and pull away gasping, resting your head on his thigh without thinking. His skin is burning against your cheek and when you try to look up at him you find him still fully erect in front of you.
“Did that help at all? Doesn’t look like it helped.”
“I mean kinda.”
“Do you think we should like-”
“Maybe. Probably…yeah.”
“You sure, I mean I get it if-”
“I feel like my eyeballs are boiling.”
“Okay, yeah that’s not good.”
“You think?”
“You are such a smartass,” you retort, standing and shoving him back onto the mattress and climbing over him. “I mean seriously, ah- all you’ve done today is bitch about something or other, but really you’re lucky I like you.” You’re riding him with an unbridled need as you berate him for his demeanor since you left Vegas. “And I’m real sorry you got stuck in this situation with me instead of Craig, but here we are huh.”
Arcade’s face turns bright red and he buries his face in his palms. “How do you know about that,” he whines, gasping when you sink down on him particularly hard.
“Because you’re a big fat liar and you do touch yourself with other people in the room.”
“I thought you were asleep!”
“‘Oh Craig, Craig that feels so good’,” you mock, grabbing his jaw and rattling him back and forth.
“Shut up,” he growls, flipping you over in an attempt to have at least some control over the situation. “You are such a bitch, you know that?”
“Oh baby, I like it when you talk to me like that,” you laugh, leaning up in an attempt to kiss him.
“You are insufferable. I am not kissing you, you’ve been nothing but mean to me.”
“Oh, I’m mean to you,” your tone would have been condescending if not for the moan that ripped its way out of you halfway through your sentence.
“Yes,” he huffs, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you and keeps going like he doesn’t even notice.
“Oh I’ll fuckin’ show you mean,” you snarl, wrapping your legs around him and shifting your weight until you’re on top of him again. “You probably like how I’m bitchin’ you out, huh,” you question, leaning down and biting his shoulder until he yelps. The sound pulls an orgasm from you and he cums again at the feeling of you around him.
“What the hell was that for! Bitching me out, yeah okay.” He tosses you off him and stands, shoving you onto your stomach and pushing into you again from behind. ‘How’s that for getting bitched out?” He grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks it so hard you scream, reaching behind you and digging your nails into his thigh hard enough to draw blood in retaliation.
—
You have no idea how long you stay at each other’s throats, threatening, and arguing, and fucking until you pass out but when you wake there’s no more sun slipping through the crack of the building. Arcade’s body is heavy where it’s tangled with yours, but his skin is cool to the touch and whatever the fuck that was seems to finally be over.
“Arcade,” you hiss, shaking his shoulder. He wakes with a confused sound and props himself up on his elbow.
“Huh?”
“We’re alive, but we should probably get going.”
“Oh, yeah. t’s dark.”
“Yeah no shit, I’m gonna get the light,” you supply, untangling yourself from him and getting up to find a lamp or something.
“Can’t believe we did that. It’s weird.”
“We said we wouldn’t let it get weird. God Damn-” you trip over some piece or other of your armor and fall into the edge of the desk, hissing as the corner collides with your side.
“I know it’s not you, I just never thought I’d have sex with a woman, that’s all.”
You find the lamp on the desk and turn it on, before leaning against the top of it to look at your companion. “You look like shit,” you state, taking him in. His usually kempt hair is a spiky mess and he’s got several bruised bite marks blooming across his neck and shoulders.
“Yeah, you too. Looks like someone decked you,” he muses, getting up and gathering his clothes. He was still attractive even though your mind was no longer clouded by the spores.
“I think you did. Things stopped making sense after a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Should have thought ahead better. Shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t bad or anything, just not something I would normally do…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Your legs.”
“What, a couple bruises, I’ve had worse.”
“No I mean-”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but when you go to step back into your underwear you see exactly what he’s talking about.
“Dude, we are so fucked.”