☢️ GFI's Kinktober 2025: Day Six ☢️
🔸Massage with Rotface🔸
Pairing: Rotface x GN!Reader
Word Count: 2,469
Warnings: 18+, nude massage, more sexy use of cooking oil, dry humping, prone bone, creampie.
Notes: I need this gossipy cutie as a househusband, ASAP. I just know he'd really enjoy having a little place to take care of as well as something to give his life more structure and routine. But ALSO: the fact that you can kill this poor man who hasn't done anything to anyone and suffer no reputation loss/gain no negative karma is insane to me, and it's yet another example of Fallout's karma system being dumb bullshit. This is really sappy, and I make no apologies.
It was always a welcome thing when the sun finally went down.
New Vegas days were hot as the outer circle of hell in the summer, even the winter months leaving you sweating through your clothes by the time you crossed the threshold of your place in the evenings. Like a great many people, the way you earned your living forced you into a great deal of walking, covering seemingly endless ground under the sweltering sun in order to find and deliver certain things. But even with experience, the work was grueling. Even though certain searches would take you pretty far across the map, you tried your very best to be back every night.
You missed your partner too much when you were away for long.
Your scraped-together homestead wasn't much, little more than one of the only fully (well, mostly) intact houses along the little niche of stony hills, crowding in the western edge of what often felt like the only real city in the world. It was far enough away from Boomer territory that you didn't fear an errant strike, but close enough to New Vegas proper that you didn't feel like a complete outcast. Your walk home in the evenings was a bit long, and you kept a sharp eye out for any signs of deathclaws, but the privacy was nice. The peace of mind that your favorite person was at least relatively safe when you were gone was even nicer.
He was safer than he had been before, at least.
Heaving a tired sigh, you finally, mercifully closed in on home. Out front, there was a small cluster of cacti and some banana yucca that he'd been tending as best as he could, rocks stacked strategically around the bases to help properly direct the scant rainwater to their thirsty roots. Honey mesquite trees crept up along the back of the property, so wide now that they touched both one another and the house. The thin green pods that clung to their branches in small clusters shivered in the slight breeze, sending out a the soft hiss of a distant snake.
A few hundred years of wear and tear was difficult to offset, but the house itself had been meticulously cleaned and maintained since the two of you had taken it over. Though it was nearly impossible to keep the sand out completely, it was a clean, quiet refuge of your own away from the world. Most of that feeling could ultimately be chalked up to him, though.
He'd introduced himself to you as "Rotface" when you first met, but you never called him that. It felt far too cruel a name to put on someone you cared about so much. You called him anything else instead, a hundred different pet names and inside jokes. It didn't seem to matter to him. He responded to anything you called him because he was so smitten.
The feeling was mutual.
He was flitting around the kitchen, messing with some cut up something-or-other that smelled amazing when you pushed the door open, and he was by your side before you could even say anything.
"How was your day, handsome?" you asked, leaning into his touch as he helped slide your bag off your back. Though you'd insisted the amount he fussed over you wasn't necessary, it seemed to make him happy to be so doting. He liked to take care of you, so you let him.
"It's much better now that you're back." he responded, wrapping an arm around you and giving you a few soft kisses before disappearing into the other room to put your things away. You lingered near the door to take off your shoes, trying your best to respect his constant efforts to keep the floor somewhat clean. The barely visible eyes in the sun-bleached photos on the walls bore into you while you did.
You wondered, on occasion, about the person or people who'd once lived in the house. Someone had once used the now-discarded bedroom set that had been destroyed by mold, loved the moth-eaten clothes in the closet. Prepped their meals in the kitchen. Did they die when the bombs fell? Did they flee out into the Wasteland in the hopes of finding a new life? Something better? Something worse?
"Well, did you hear anything interesting today?" he asked when he returned to the room, ever the incorrigible gossip. It distracted you from your temporarily melancholy thoughts.
"Mmm, nothing you don't likely already know." you smiled, letting your hands roam up and down his firm chest. He leaned in for another kiss, and you happily gave it.
"Hope you're hungry." he said as he pulled away, once more flying around the dingy kitchen area before disappearing out the back door. Though he did much of the meal prep inside, the oven didn't work, and he feared burning the whole place down by accident, so he finished most meals on a small cookfire in the yard.
The dinner he'd made was great, but they always were. He insisted that he was no chef, his taste buds warped by the radiation exposure, but you really thought he'd come a long way since you'd first started seeing one another. It was quite a talent in your eyes, being able to take a handful of scraped-together Wasteland ingredients and turn them into a meal so good you'd think to request it again in the future. You told him so, too, and the humble grin that broke out across his face at your praise warmed your heart.
After supper, you dismissed yourself to the bathroom to clean yourself up, grimy with sweat and chafed from the grit of sand stuck to your skin. Though you had no real functional indoor plumbing, the tub still drained into somewhere, so you'd stand in it and give yourself a makeshift shower with a small bucket. Ever happy to have an excuse to peek in on you, he brought you extra water for rinsing and helped dry you off when you were finished, only openly groping you a few times in the process.
"Ugh." you groaned as you stepped out of the cracked tub, your whole body aching from the day's exertion.
"You know, if you need a rub-down, I'm always happy to provide." he offered, barely able to keep his eyes on your face.
You giggled at his lusty behavior, but the idea made your ears genuinely perk up. Horny or not, he'd given you some pretty amazing massages before.
"Sounds great." you agreed, leaning close.
A moment later, he'd spread a clean towel out on the living room floor to protect you from the sand and gestured to it as you stood naked in the entrance to the hall.
"On the floor?" you asked, hesitation creeping into your voice. For obvious reasons, this sort of thing typically happened on the bed.
"Trust me." he said.
You settled yourself down onto the floor, spreading out on your stomach, and looked up at him expectantly. Popping across the open room into the kitchen once more, he rummaged through a cabinet before reappearing at your side. He held the small bottle of cooking oil with a flourish, showing it off like a game show model flaunting a prize. There was a devious glint in his eye as he set it down on the floor near your feet.
"I've got nothing but time to make plans during the day." he grinned. As he finished speaking, he paused to draw his shirt over his head, folding and carefully placing it aside. It made you chuckle.
"What?" he asked, smiling at the sound of your laughter as he worked the button of his pants open. "I'm a very thorough masseuse and I don't wanna ruin my clothes."
"Oh, I see." you replied, nodding along seriously as you continued to watch him undress out of the corner of your eye. Sure, he was heavily scarred and hairless like most ghouls, but he also had an intriguing amount of lean muscle that had initially drawn your eye to him. You turned your head away before he stripped out of his underwear, not wanting to be caught leering, as it would only give him more ammunition to tease you with.
Carefully, he took his place on the floor beside you, sitting cross-legged and flush with your hip.
"Are we ready?" he asked.
"Plenty."
You could feel your cheeks heating up by a few degrees as he seated himself cautiously over you, straddling your calves with his thighs and keeping most of his weight in his legs. When he stretched his body over yours to rub at your shoulders, you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin.
"Geez, you weren't joking. You're half knots." he said as he kneaded into the muscles.
A joke formed on your tongue, but all that rolled off was a half-shocked groan of pain and relief as he skimmed his palms up your back again, along where the straps of your bag rested across your shoulders. You could feel the knots he was referring to slowly loosening with each pass, and you let out a pitiful sigh.
"Poor thing. Hopefully I can help you relax." he tutted playfully, letting his already hardening length skim along the cleft of your ass as he continued his ministrations.
"Oh, I imagine you'll find a way." you grinned, eyes closed as you let your head rest against your arms.
Though you could tell he was eager to get his hands on you in a different way, the growing evidence of it poking you in the back, he was very generous with you, spending a considerable amount of time working each part of your sore, tight back. Slowly, he kneaded down your flanks and spine, those rough, skilled fingers earning more and more sounds from you.
You'd almost forgotten about the oil until you heard the tiny cap snap open.
"Ah!" you gasped as the cool, thin substance ran down your spine, pooling in the dip of your lower back.
Your lover chuckled at the sound, spreading the stuff across your skin and pressing more of his weight into the strokes of his hands. The feeling drew another pleased moan from you, but this time it was answered by a low, throaty groan of his own.
"God, you're sexy." he praised, hands beginning to paw at the meat of your ass. You felt your teeth digging into your lower lip, biting back a smirk as you let your back arch towards him a bit.
The massage was starting to derail a bit, the way he kneaded at your glutes increasingly focused on simply filling his hands with as much flesh as he could manage. When his fingers finally slipped between your thighs, however, pretty much all pretense melted away. Your breath hitched noticeably as he touched you softly. Just like with the back rub, he was patient, studying every inch of you meticulously before moving onto the next.
It was easy to lose yourself in this kind of rub-down, too, though in the sort of way that left you moaning and bucking against his hand instead of nodding off. Behind you, his breathing was heavy, his body twisted so that he could rub his hard cock against your thigh while he continued to play with you.
He didn't complain quite as much about his joints, or any of the other sort of aches and pains that many of the ghouls you'd met in the past seemed to. Then again, most of the other ghouls you'd met had been around since the War. Your lover was still of an actual human age, despite how much the ghoulification process had affected his looks, and it seemed to you that it was reflected in his sex drive.
"Oh, fuck." you groaned when his fingers eventually found your entrance, teasing just around the edge.
"I've been thinking about this all day." he muttered, low and lusty as he began to stretch you. It didn't take long for you to grow frustrated with the tormenting amount of stimulation he was giving. Whining pitifully as you opened your thighs further, your ass pressed upwards until you were presenting yourself to him like an animal in heat.
"Fuck me." you pleaded, every cell in your body crying out like you'd die without him inside you.
He snarled at that, slick hands seizing you by your wrists, upper body pinning yours down to the floor as he arched his hips sharply, slipping right into place once more.
"Say it again." he ordered, though it came across as more of a barely-disguised plea.
It was difficult to untie your tongue from the knot it had worked itself into, but you managed to give him what he wanted.
"Fuck me, baby." you breathed, quiet but clear. The moan that followed as he slid halfway into you was much less quiet.
His generous patience seemed to be wearing thin as he gave a few more shallow thrusts, burying himself to the hilt rather easily. Both of you hummed in satisfaction at the feeling. Those hands of his loosened their hold on your arms and slid down to grip at your hips instead, holding them firmly as he drove into you over and over again. Skin slippery against yours, it was easy for him to sink a hand beneath you, easily resuming the rhythm he'd been strumming out against you and making you clench.
Before you knew it, your whole body was knotted up tight again, from your fists wadding into the material of the towel beneath you to the way your back arched up at him. However, when you started into your orgasm, your muscles failed you, and you collapsed into a twitching heap as you cried out. Your boyfriend wasn't far behind, pushing as deep inside you as possible and grinding, slick and hot, until he exploded, too.
For several long minutes, you cuddled on the dusty floor, a pile of flesh and limbs turned to jelly. It gave you goosebumps when he craned his neck to press sweet kisses down the sweaty nape of yours. Eventually, you had to extract yourself, your arm all pins and needles.
"I am completely covered in oil now." you chuckled, trying in vain to massage the stuff into your skin.
"Oh no! Poor baby." he said in feigned sympathy, pulling himself back to his feet and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I guess you'll have to have another rinse off. I'll join you."
"Is that right?" you asked as you let him tug you along back towards the bathroom. His erection had never completely deflated.
"Of course. Gotta save water, after all."
You wondered how slippery the bottom of the tub was.