Title: Freakshow

Chapter: 3/?

Previously: Ch 1 Ch 2

Fandom: Fallout 4, god help me

Pairings: Hancock/vault dweller (male)

Rating: PORN

Chapter word count: 2,550

Warnings: Slash, angst, body image shit, fictional drug use, dicks everywhere, and sometimes not in the best condition, fluff

Summary: Hancock’s insecurities surface as he compares himself with his lover.  The institute offers a solution, but are the consequences worth it?

In this chapter: Sexy sexy sex and anniversary gifts and some questions

Sebastian looked up.  “Yeah, love?” he purred, hands running up and down graceful toned thighs.

“I want to bend you over and have you here and now, until you’re panting and writhing and screaming my fucking name,.” Hancock rasped, voice rough with lust… sounding funnily enough more like his old self.  Sebastian had always liked that bit, the gravelly voice, to him it made him sound like he was in the throes of passion even if he was just reading a lunch menu, which was not to say that he didn’t appreciate hearing this new smooth voice roughen as he descended into desire.

“and then maybe I want you to do the same to me,” added the ghoul, looking almost shy.  He’d never been much of a bottom, but something about always elegant, always perfectly coiffed Sebastian who ran around the wasteland in a fucking evening gown dispatching raiders and radscorpions with ease made him want it all, every experience every which way he could get it.

Sebastian gave him a smile like the cat that got the canary.  “I think that can be arranged,” he said, moving gracefully to his feet.  Hancock had already grabbed the lube from its place in the bathroom, a brew made from aloe vera and certain oils, up until now it had just been used for toys and hand jobs, but now he pressed himself up against Sebastian, kissing him long and deep as he tugged at those skin tight trousers.  Sebastian kissed back before pulling gracefully away.  Hancock really couldn’t imagine him as a soldier, a fighter yes, but one of those serious, macho, yes sir no sir three bags full sir types, not in a million years, but that didn’t matter.  She’s My Witch by Kip Tyler, a man dead more than three centuries poured from the radio, and Sebastian moved his slim hips in time to the slow sultry beat as he stripped, pulling off that tight t-shirt held together with safety pins, and oh so slowly peeling off his pants, naked but for a pair of heels, he sauntered over, tugging Hancock to the sofa, and sitting him down, straddling him, grinding up against him, tossing his hair and moving to the carnal sound of good old fashioned rock n’ roll, before taking Hancock’s hand and the lube bottle, slicking up three fingers, and guiding them to his entrance.  The ghoul grinned, a steely arm sliding around Sebastian’s slim waist, as he slid a finger inside him.  Christ but he was hot and tight and… god but he wanted him.  The vault dweller gasped, squirmed, grinding his rather impressively sized erection against the ghoul, desperate for contact.

Hancock grinned.

“That’s right, angel, like my fingers in you?” he purred, “bet you’ll like my cock even better.”

Sebastian let out an animalistic groan, a feral almost dangerous light shining in his eyes.  

“Fuck yes, you know I do,” he breathed against Hancock’s ear, before nipping and tugging at the beringed lobe, tugging at dark hair.  Hancock couldn’t help loving that rapturous look on Sebastian’s exquisite face, eyes lust dark and heavy lidded, lips smirking, kiss reddened and oh so slightly parted.  He was lust incarnate and Hancock needed to be inside him, needed to feel their bodies intimately, utterly connected.  His cock twitched, Sebastian groaned again.  This was fire, hotter than hell and all consuming.  Sebastian gazed into the ghoul’s grey eyes. He was beautiful and wild, with that silky hair loose around his face and that lush mouth.  When they kissed he was hungry, demanding, a starving man at a feast.  He could only imagine what his lover had been going through all these months, all that self denial because of a little scar tissue.  It wasn’t as if he’d never seen worse.  He’d been a soldier, had seen men mangled far beyond recognition, and Hancock in his way had still been handsome, even without a nose and his skin a wreck, he’d had good bone structure and those dark expressive eyes, but he couldn’t deny seeing what he’d looked like before, he sort of got the insecurity.  Hancock had been beautiful, an absolute stone cold fox, all flawless tawny skin, long lashes and well… lovely, and if you’d gotten used to looking like that, well becoming a ghoul might have felt like a disaster, and having a dick that wasn’t all there and didn’t quite work… well he could only imagine it didn’t help.

The ghoul slid another finger inside him, curling them to brush his core.  Sebastian let out a whine of pure ecstasy.  This was pure perfect pleasure, fingers moving to undo the buttons on Hancock’s shirt, noticing what he’d thought was skin discoloration in his lover’s previous state had actually been tattoos, richly colored and beautifully inked.  He traced the lines of a lush red rose before Hancock caught him by the hair with his free hand and pulled him into a kiss, fingers spreading inside his lover.  He swore birds sang and flowers bloomed in that moment, that he’d never felt anything, anything  to compare to him.  He’d done it all, mentats, psychojet, whatever you could think of he’d tried it, but nothing compared to this, and then Hancock reached for a little pill box concealed in some inner pocket of his coat.

“These are very rare, I’ve been savin’ em for a special occasion,” he said with a grin, “it’s a pre-war drug called Miss Molly.  You heard of it?”

Sebastian eyed the four little pills.  Oh, he knew about Miss Molly, he and Miss Molly had been good friends before Shaun, before Nora, before he’d settled himself as best he could into the role of husband and father, even then he’d never stopped looking like what he was, wild.  Soldier was really just the cover story.  He’d tried… well he hated to think about that because he’d failed when failure was not an option, it had been stressful and in his time off… well he’d liked to unwind.  He’d danced till dawn fueled by purples and reds.  He’d chased the dragon, and known crystalline amphetamine highs and Kublai Khan opium dreams.  He’d met Miss Molly in more than a few nightclub bathrooms, and he remembered the sex as cosmic, decked with stars, pleasure and pounding beat,

He popped a pill, and tilted back his head, eyes closing for a moment.  Hancock swallowed his own in turn, adding a third finger, as he ran a hand up Sebastian’s flank.  He loved the sight of him, the playing card symbols inked down each hip bone, that taut flat stomach.  He was beautiful. and he loved feeling them skin on skin, the level of sensation was like nothing the ghoul had felt in decades, nerves he’d forgotten what it was like having alight with bliss.  It wasn’t as if he’d never fucked as a ghoul, other ghouls, the occasional human who was “into that” but he’d always hated being someone’s fetish, made him fucking uncomfortable, but sex, like jet was muted for ghouls, the intensity of desire washing over him now, the intensity of sensation washed over him like a tidal wave, every touch electric and the drug was only going to make it more intense.

The taste of the other man’s lips, sweet and sinful and sticky with gloss.  In a wasteland where people had stopped combing their hair, his immaculate grooming was a breath of fresh air.  He tasted like dark heaven, like all the very best things in their fucked up world and he pulled him against him, needing to be closer, to feel more, to have him in every sense of the word.   Now they felt like meant to be in a way he hadn’t let himself believe in before, here was the fairytale ending he’d wanted.  Okay so it was dirtier than the bowdlerized versions in most of those old pre-war books, but this was Hancock after all, and for him a fairy tale ending involved seeing his true love writhing desperately, quite possibly begging for his touch.

He shifted, nudging a dazed Sebastian to his knees, so he could give his cock a long teasing lick with that clever pink tongue.  “You should get that pierced too, babe,” purred the raven haired man, giving a shallow thrust or two before Hancock pulled back and flipped them around.  He’d been strong enough as a ghoul that it had been easy to forget how the condition effected strength, now apparently he could pick up all six foot four inches of the (admittedly slender) Sebastian, turn him round, and bend him forcibly over the sofa without so much as a grunt of effort.  The vault dweller yelped in surprise, still grinding instinctively back against that knowing hand.  He was coming undone, entire body alight with the prospect of their coupling, and then those slim digits were gone, and Hancock spread him open and sheathed himself in one quick movement.

“Look at you, General of the Minutemen, Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, Wasteland legend writhing on my cock, fucking love that don’t you?” he purred into the other man’s ear, “do I make your cock drip, baby?” he added, a hand moving to grip Sebastian’s big cock.

“God you’re so hard for me,” said the ghoul, which sent a throb of desire through him.  Why was it that every time he’d gotten his lover hard before this had felt… somehow invalid, because he’d been a ghoul, and sexy as was, charming and charismatic as he was, he’d wanted Sebastian to look at him and see sex on legs, not a shambling mess of decay… and to be fair, he’d ached to be able to do this, to fuck him, no goddamn strap on dick over clothing so he wouldn’t have to show what he was ashamed of.  He’d wanted skin on skin, body pressed against body, and now he had it, had him, and he was hot and he was tight and christ if it didn’t take every ounce of self control he’d been storing up not holding himself back from anything in life to stop himself from coming right then and there, just hearing Sebastian’s breath get ragged, hearing that silky voice rough with desire, needy.

“Fuck, goddamnit, Hancock, fucking fuck me or I swear to god I will…” and he trailed off the moment Hancock grabbed his hips and started to move.

“God you’d look hot in a pair of handcuffs, one of those goddamn distracting little dresses you wear shoved up to your waist,” said the ghoul, taking in every marvelous detail of the scene, that normally flawlessly styled hair a mess, lipstick smeared, leanly muscled back arching.

The vault dweller growled, arched, rocked his hips.  He was going to fuck Hancock senseless the first chance he got, but for now he’d enjoy the ride, and what a fucking ride.  Hancock’s movements were as smooth, graceful and brutal as a trained martial artist.  He took him, claimed him, grabbed him by the hair.

The grey eyed man dug nails into his lover’s haunches, heat building in both of them.  He needed more, needed Sebastian with every fiber of his being.  This was furious, wild animalistic love, all that pent up desire exploding out into this mad violent passion they shared.  Sebastian bucked, growling and cursing, reaching back to tug his lover’s hair, a wordless demand for more.  The drugs had kicked in, and the world was red and gold and he needed this.  He struggled, pulled away, leaving Hancock looking bereft before he grabbed his hand, yanking him down onto the thick hide rug on the floor.

“I want to see you,” he explained, voice breathy, “Christ Hancock.”

He’d said it before during what had passed for sex between them, but never with this urgency.  Hancock took no time in fulfilling the request, grabbing him and pulling his lover’s knees over his shoulders, he slid back into him, grey eyes meeting blue, hands somehow still smooth despite all that they did reached to touch his face, he turned to kiss one beloved palm.  

“Goddamn, look at you,” groaned Hancock, staring at a lust dazed Sebastian, dark hair spreading beneath him, glossy and black as prewar raven’s wing.  

“Goddamn, look at you,” replied beauty incarnate beneath him, touching supple skin, fingers weaving in dark hair. God it was good to feel sexy, to feel desired and desirable, to not flinch when he was touched.  He kissed him, stroked him in time with his thrusts.  He was achingly close by now, the tight heat surrounding him, the breathy groans of his lover, and the look of pure adoration, of pure desire in those blue eyes was quickly pushing him over the brink of reason.

Pleasure like a bomb blast, pleasure like a free fall, pleasure like flying, they came together, two voices crying out in ecstasy, bodies intertwined.  The ghoul collapsed atop his lover, grinning and brushing hair from his eyes.

“Jesus,” said the ghoul, still panting.

“My god,” said Sebastian wrapping arms round his companion.

“I forgot how good that was,” said Hancock with a lazy smile.

“Hopefully we have plenty of time to remind you,” replied Sebastian, raising Hancock’s hand to his lips, and kissing his knuckles “and next time it’s my turn to top.”

“Should do, this stuff’s supposed to be permanent, and we’ll see.”

“I have so many questions… why did you do it?” asked Sebastian, suddenly remembering his worries about having made his lover self conscious.

“Vanity, maybe a little jealous of how damned pretty you are, and I was sick of the joint pain and trying to keep all those goddamn wrinkles clean, pretty much had to go over my face with a toothbrush to get the dust out,” joked the ghoul “sides, I get to keep the rad resistance and extended lifespan, so I figured…”

“Where did you get it?” asked Sebastian, if there were a drug like that out there, he wanted it distributed to settlers, thinking instantly of the potential benefit to so many wastelanders, outcast and sick with long radiation poisoning.

Hancock really wished he could tell him, but he knew that Sebastian would never forgive him for agreeing to something so dangerous without consulting him, for putting them in such debt to the institute, who they both knew couldn’t be trusted.

“Scientist, institute dude, big and green or he used to be, what’s his name?  He said it was experimental,”  replied Hancock knowing the good doc would back him on it if asked “I thought it’d be a nice anniversary gift for you, I told you I didn’t want to put you through waking up to that ugly mug for the rest of your life… now you can wake up to this ugly mug instead,” he added with a smile that said he knew perfectly well he was damned fine looking.

“That was dangerous!” protested the vault dweller before softening, caressing Hancock’s cheek “and besides, I would have settled for a mirelurk cake and some new kitchen knives, these won’t even cut bloatfly without squashing it.”

Hancock breathed an internal sigh of relief.  He’d successfully avoided the subject.

“Well, I guess I won’t be needing this then,” he said, pulling a wrapped (wrapping paper being useless for most survival applications was still easy enough to come by in the commonwealth.) gift box, small… jewelry sized.  Sebastian opened it carefully, revealing a long slim velvet box, inside was the most stunning sapphire necklace he’d ever seen, each tear drop cut vivid blue stone was framed with brilliant white diamonds.  He gasped.

“Where the hell did you get this?” asked the vault dweller, utterly stunned.

“Old jewelry factory out near Providence,” he said, “it matches your eyes.”

“Goddamnit, stop doing that or I’m going to melt,” replied Sebastian with an affectionate shove, before meeting his gaze again “it’s beautiful… thank you.  I have a present for you too, but it has to wait for after dinner.”