YAY MORE FALLOUT SMUT.
Prompted by the fuckin' awesome momo-deary. Check her out on dA, she's got some epic fanart (also lots of sexy Butch just sayin'.)
When Clover passes by the campfire, swinging her hips all seductively and brushing her delicate fingers ever so airily over Butch's shoulders, the Lone Wanderer wants to scream. The normally good-natured woman watches in exhausting disgust as the former slave settles on the dark ground next to barber and stretches her bare, tan legs towards the fire. Candace doesn't need to be looking at Butch's face to know he's checking Clover out.
An abnormally bizarre, twisted feelings dances across her nerves, stimulating an emotion she can't remember experiencing before. Considering the events of the past year, one would expect she'd be accustomed to every range of emotions; she'd experienced fear, loneliness and grief in the last month alone.
But this…this is much different. It coils, bends, and twists her face in a display of rage, and Ace has to turn away from the fire so Charon won't see her angry expression. The emotion has complete control of her now - the fourth time Clover laughs, high-pitched and seductively dangerous, Ace wants to rip the combat shotgun from her bodyguard's arms and…and…
Ace slams a fist against the ground, ignoring the bite of pain when tiny specks of gravel dig into her skin. Her sizeable travelling group is camped out in a destroyed, unsteady farmhouse the once belonged to raiders. Ace sits in the loft, taking her turn at watch with Charon. Butch and Clover are reclined on their makeshift bedrolls, flirting relentlessly.
All too suddenly, Ace's good-natured, helpful personality is caught in a fierce war with the immense hatred she suddenly feels. She lets out a confused, slightly bitter breath with an air of immaturity.
"My sentiments reside with you, mistress."
Ace glances at Charon, gauging the truthfulness of his words. She raises an eyebrow at him, trying to fish out a more descriptive opinion from the ghoul. He speaks so rarely, but when he does, it's usually worth listening to.
"I can't stand her, is what I'm saying. While her background is certainly a concer-" Charon continues, but is cut off by a short squeal from the object of their gossip. Ace stiffens, but refuses to turn and investigate. "I'm going to take the opportunity to remind you that murder is within the guidelines of my contract."
Ace lets out a short, curt laugh, and adjusts the goggles around her neck, trying for a more approachable air. Is that why Butch sees Clover as more feminine? Is she too…rough and tumble? Granted, the only boyfriend she'd ever had was Freddie when they were seventeen, but even then she couldn't remember him having any complaints about her lack of feminine daintiness when she sucked him off the night of the Vault Graduation ceremony.
So maybe she's a little jealous. She can vaguely recall wanting to hook up with Butch, but passes that off as wanting a taste of the "bad boy" experience Susie Mack had always gushed about. Ace had never gone after a relationship with the hot, badass gang leader, simply because of her upbringing.
Hell if she's going to let an opportunity like that slip by again.
Charon seems to notice her rigid, determined resolution. It's dark, and she's probably seeing things, but Ace would bet a thousand bottle caps that his decayed, cracked lips turn up in a grin.
"HEY. Slave bitch. Boss spotted a pack of yao guai roaming the edges of camp."
Ace swings her feet over the edge of the loft to watch her bodyguard's unspoken plan play out, and immediately regrets it.
Clover is draped across the Tunnel Snake, one pretty hand down the front of his blue jeans, another fisted in his dark, styled hair. The former slave frowns, and Ace is even envious of the way she can make that childish pout gorgeous.
"So? We're kinda fuckin' busy here, you shit-faced zombie," she says, and Butch nods his head, agreeing with a hearty, pleased grunt. Ace feels sick to her stomach at the content, lustful expression on his face, but also very pissed and very jealous.
"Help me clear 'em out. It's the least you can do." Charon says tonelessly.
"We are transporting your bitchy, evil ass across the Wasteland," Ace calls from her perch in the loft, unable to keep her mouth shut. Butch's breathy, stifled laugh coupled with Clover's malicious glare force a confident and slightly sassy smirk to appear on the Lone Wanderer's face.
"Fine," she sneers, and pulls her hand away from Butch with a tantalizing slowness. He groans, and Ace wants to just fucking beat him because he arches towards her, instead of away. Clover pecks him on the side of the mouth, what Ace thinks is a simple kiss, but their mouths soon meld together, and Charon has to clear his throat.
"Baby, please don't take long," Butch whines as Clovers picks up her pistol and follows Charon out of the farmhouse. She blows him a kiss over her shoulder, and Ace watches as Butch lets his head thump back to the ground. He splays his arms and legs out, clearly displeased with the turn of events.
Ace can't help but stare at the patch of toned abdomen that peaks out as he stretches, leading down towards the tent in his jeans. Happy trail, indeed.
"Thanks for the damn cockblock, Ace," Butch complains, twisting onto his side. He props his head up on his forearm, staring out the open barn door into the night. She traces the sinewy muscle of his triceps with hungry eyes. "Finish myself off…again," he whines.
After a moment of careful deliberation, Ace takes the initiative. She's tired of being pushed around. She's tired of having opportunities snatched away.
"Not necessarily, Butch-man."