Synopsis: A mission goes awry and has Boothill lactating from his metal tits (yes you heard that right). With no one else that he'd rather trust, he turns to you for help. And help he receives, and then some.
Tags: Boothill x GN! reader, Wireplay, Male lactation, cunnilingus, fluff, smut, bottom boothill, boothill has a vagina (yay), aftercare, ambiguous relationships
A/N: baby's first smutfic and it's... squints, wireplay! anyways be nice, this is my first actual smutfic
Warnings: NSFT MDNI !!!! also small mentions of blood
Boothill doesn't have much that he prides himself upon these days. Once upon a time, he'd rattle off a whole list of feats and achievements, with no shortage of personal strengths, added to the mix. Now? All that the cowboy had left were his sharpshooting skills honed from years of hunting and this indestructible body of his.
Or well… Nearly indestructible would be a better way of putting it.
Of course, Boothill should've seen this coming. He kicks himself over it, agonizing over why he'd never once stopped to think things through before jumping into the fray. He should've realized that the sturdier the body, the more fatal the flaw. Nothing can be too strong. There was nothing in this universe that could stand tall without risking erosion. There will always be a chink in the armor, an Achilles heel.
He simply never realized that the consequences would be lactation of all things.
No, it's fine. He's prepared for this (probably). I mean, more often than not, his friends would force him to be the mama whenever they all played house as kids. They'd swaddle a little lamb from his family's herd and Boothill would coo and hold the sweet thing close to his chest, as if nursing the animal. That stopped after the lamb bleated when roughousing too much one day and nearly bit his nipple off.
Aeons above, why the fuck do kids never role-play as something more normal?
Boothill did get a shot at redemption when he later found a little baby girl wailing at the top of her lungs in the snow, much like how he once had been found. With plenty of help from Graey and his brother's wife, he managed to be a decent parent for the little angel. As decent a parent one can be when forced to leave base for hours, sometimes days, at a time to hunt and do some much-needed pest control, that is. That must be why when Boothill had finally returned and taken the effort to head straight towards the farm he grew up, the very first thing that his daughter had did upon being picked up was bite down hard on his nipple as an act of revenge (Graey had said something about teething but Boothill called bullshit).
Yeah no, maybe- Scratch that, he was definitely cursed. And he had hoped, prayed even!, that he wouldn't suffer any similar predicaments upon gaining a metal body. After all, it's not like anyone would want to bite down on the screws he had for nipples, right?
Still… Boothill can't just walk around with leaky tits. For one, he wasn't even sure what the hell was dripping from the metal teats and he wasn't really keen on tasting the clear fluid that had his chest and abs covered in a glossy sheen just to find out. Second, Boothill wasn't exactly sure whether he was steadily losing some vital fluid from his body. It wasn't blue in color, so he could at least rest assured that he wasn't bleeding to death from his chest. However, a cyborg needed much more than just cold blue blood to function. There were a multitude of other fluids, circuits, wires, cogs and whatnot that kept him running like a horse through grassy plains. How could he be sure that he won't combust within the next hour just because his nipples aren't leaking blood?
There is also the fact that his bandana and cape were thoroughly soaked from his efforts to wipe the fluid away before any wandering soul stopped for a second too long and asked Boothill why the hell he was lactating.
The universe left no other option. Boothill curses his luck once more. He'd been hoping that after that shootout with the IPC, he could sneak back to the ship he'd hijacked and perform some much-needed maintenance on himself. Surely there's a manual somewhere that dealt with this or some poor soul who had once also suffered from leaky tits and asked for help on a forum and received an extremely detailed and helpful answer. But alas, a short while of searching provided absolutely zero results. Even the forum that typically held all the answers to anything and everything, including how to remove a cylinder shaped object from a M&M tube without harming it, had zero results.
So, Boothill did what anyone with leaky tits would do. He hopped into his ship and sped off towards a doctor, which in his case, would be a mechanic. But not just any mechanic, no. He's sure that the doctor who'd created his cyborg body would laugh in his face and throw her sandwich and tell him to get out. No, this was a sensitive matter. And there was only one soul that Boothill trusted enough for this.
As one would expect from residing in a universe full of intellitrons, droids and all sorts of machinery and sentient life forms, you had quite the experience under your belt. There wasn't a single problem thus far that you hadn't managed to resolve! Everything from re-calibrating the auto-aim on a droid's cock to rewiring an intellitron's pussy so that it throbbed to the beat of her favorite song, you've done it. Of course, your expertise didn't only lie in such matters. The vast majority of your work consisted of the average repairs and maintenance with the occasional commissioner requesting something built.
Despite all of that, despite the glowing reviews on your webpage raving about your professionalism, despite having patented a new core for a client that could synthesize food at will, despite everything you've done in all your years as a mechanic, never once had you been greeted by a scene like the one before you.
"… You're lactating," you state, blankly staring at the screws on Boothill's metal chest plates. He gives you an unimpressed look, very obviously wondering whether he'd made the right call in coming to you for help.
"Congrats, darlin'! Ya've got eyes! I never once doubted ya!" He deadpans. You make a face in response but don't say anything in response. For now. You vaguely wonder whether it's pregnancy hormones that are making the man so cranky, if the lactation was anything to go by. Can cyborgs even get pregnant?
"Alright, alright. I'm not taking this job just to deal with the attitude. What's up? You been…. lactating long?"
Yeah. Boothill definitely did not make the right choice in coming to you for help.
" 'S been like this fer a couple system hours now," he answers, just barely managing to keep his irritation in check.
"Ah… So… were you doing anything before the lactation started? Any… Ah, endeavors? Perhaps of the sexual kind?"
"If you're tryin' t'say I'm pregnant, you're about t' become real familiar with this six-shooter o' mine."
"Hey, I'm not slut-shaming-"
"Huh. Bummer," you sigh. Boothill feels his eye twitch and despite how badly he wants to shoot at your feet and make you dance, he manages to rein in his anger just this once. After all, you're the only one he knows who'd fix this problem of his with no- er, a moderate yet harmless amount of judgment.
"Anyway," Boothill drawls out. "I was wrappin' up a bounty. Didn't realize that the warehouse kept automated reinforcements so I ended up gettin' caught off guard by one'a them fat forkers the IPC loves t' keep around. Slammed into me like a bull that saw red an' I've been spurtin' whatever the fork this is ever since."
You hum in answer, your mind already drawing up a solution if your hypothesis was correct. You motion for Boothill to take a seat on the work table whilst searching for your toolbox in the pigsty that you called a workshop. The cowboy obeys, taking your silence as an opportunity to continue gabbing on about how he taught those muddlefudgers a lesson and had fun pulling out the wires deep inside the mech's guts. Famous last words.
"Do you have any idea on what's been leaking out?" You ask, adjusting your chair so that you were about face level with his chest. At least now you had an excuse to ogle his tits to your heart's desire. Aeons knows how big they were when he had his organic body.
"Naw, don't got a fudgin' clue."
"You didn't think to check? You couldn't… Oh, I dunno, taste what the hell you've been squirting out of your tits like a faucet?"
"Why the fork would I lick the shirt I've been leakin'?! That's like crankin' the hog an' eatin' yer own emissions!"
"Very eloquently put, Boothill. But I'm asking because it would've given me an idea as to what went wrong so I wouldn't have to go in completely blind," you explain patiently. You unzip his cropped jacket so you'd have easier access to his gorgeous tits. "Besides, it's not like you'd die from it. I've seen you eat bullets."
"If ya wanna taste so bad then be my fudgin' guest," Boothill says irritably. You mutter something about putting his name on the suicide note if you die before suddenly, your lips wrap around his left nipple and sucks. Hard.
An undignified squeak leaves his lips and he nearly shoves you off. Instead, he manages to grab you by the hair and firmly pull you off, glaring daggers at you. Your slick lips and unrepentant grin is what greets him.
"When I said have a taste, I ain't meant anythin' 'bout suckin' on mah screws like a forkin' baby!" Boothill grits out.
"There's a lot of things we mechanics have to do for the sake of science," you shrug. If it weren't for the eager gleam in your eyes as you drink in the beautiful blush coloring his cheeks, Boothill would've assumed you were doing this just to get on his nerves. "Anyway… I'm not exactly sure what the fluid is. I don't think I've ever tasted anything like it."
"Ya make a habit o' tastin' that shirt?"
"In my line of work, you have to use all five senses. Anywho, I don't suppose you'd know what it is, would you? I don't think it's inedible since I haven't dropped dead on the floor, unfortunately. It tasted quite sweet, in fact. A bit slimy in consistency though."
The blue blush on Boothill's skin darkens even more, if that was even possible. He pulls the brim of his hat down, covering his eyes in an uncharacteristic act of shyness. You roll your eyes and lightly swat his hand away.
"C'mon. Spill," you prod, not unkindly. You remove his hat and gently brush a stray lock of hair away from his good eye, forcing him to meet your gaze. Jeez, where did all this tension suddenly come from?
" 'S lube…" Boothill mutters, promptly looking away once the answer leaves his lips. But of course, that answer only furthered your confusion and he had no choice but to explain. "So my joints don't get all rusty….and for uhh… other purposes."
"Oh wow. I'm hurt you never told me about that."
"Reckon I'd rather take ya out fer dinner first than do that."
You stifle a snort and return your attention back to the matter at hand. You've worked on Boothill's body before so you were intimately familiar with his insides, ignoring how grisly that sounds. If he was leaking lube like this, then the problem and solution were evident for you.
"Okay, I think I know what happened. When that IPC mech rammed into you, it must've caused the wires inside to get all jumbled. Likely, the wires that directed lube to the necessary areas got jumbled to the point the routes got redirected to your tits," you ramble away, already grabbing a screwdriver to get down to business.
"Great. Knew I could count on ya!" Boothill sighs. You don't bother pointing out how his expression had told a completely different story just a couple minutes ago. Instead, you focus on removing the chest plates, revealing the cavern inside his body that was decorated with all sorts of parts. Fuck, it was like a mechanic's wet dream.
"Lemme know if things get uncomfortable. I'm diving in," you say. Putting on gloves on your hands and holding a torch in one, you peer inside the cavity, taking in what you saw. The wires really had been jumbled. Thankfully, you had a good idea of how things really should be looking and get to work.
"Really wish ya didn't word it like tha- Ah!" Boothill jolts and immediately clamps one hand over his mouth.
You raise an eyebrow and continue. You were trying your utmost to be careful. Just because the exterior was sturdy doesn't mean the same could be said for the interior. But that was tough when everything was in such a disarray. With as much care as you could muster, you tug at a handful of wires that were stuck in an awkward position.
"Mmngh! W-what the fork are ya doin' in there?!" Boothill demands, his voice sounding awfully breathless. Since when did cyborgs need to breathe?
"Fixing your insides, genius. The lube leaked everywhere. It's like someone squirted everywhere here!"
"C-cain't ya be a bit more gentle?"
"I'm trying but the wires are all slippery an-"
Your words are cut off by an embarrassingly loud groan from above. Strange. All you'd done was roughly unplug one of the circuits. This wasn't supposed to hurt. You'd made sure the pain receptors were dialed as low as possible. Unless…
Experimentally, you pull at another wire and sure enough:
"H-haah… H-hey, quit that!"
"Just doing my job," you hum. "This is all necessary, y'know. But… if it's making you uncomfortable and you want me to stop, I have no problems whatsoever."
Boothill glares at the top of your head. He could hear the shit-eating grin in your voice and it did not bode well with him. You were smart. It never took too long for you to put two and two together. Still…
"Nah… 'S fine. Jus'… be a bit gentle, yeah?"
"O-oh fork," he softly whimpers. It takes everything in him to not double over or buck his hips. He tries, he really does, to focus on something else. Like the various decorations in your workshop, the twinkling streetlights outside, the softness of your hands that he could just barely make out despite the gloves and- Now, hold on.
"You can hold my hair if it helps," you offer, as if sensing his internal war. Almost immediately, you feel the dexterous fingers grab a firm, but not rough, hold. Heat pools deep in your gut but you ignore it for now. Boothill can help out that in due time.
Needy little moans fill the workshop while you work. Each tug at a wire, every time you wiped lube off the parts, every tiny little shift had the man close to writhing. What you wouldn't give to see his face right now. Was he drooling? Was he biting his lips bloody to keep the desperate whines in? Your fingers curl a bit too tightly over the bundle of wires you were holding, causing him to choke on a moan.
"You're doing so good f'me," you hum, patting the plug before inserting it in its rightful place. "There's not much left now, I promise."
Boothill keens, his black bangs falling over his good eye now. This was torture. Mind-numbingly pleasant and sweet, but torture nonetheless.
"Mmf… D-doc'… I ain't sure I can hold on fer much longer," he hiccups. He wanted so desperately to press his thighs together, to relieve a bit of the ache between them but you had your body planted firmly in the middle. He could barely get the friction he so badly desired.
"Just a few more minutes, okay? You can do that for me, can't you? Be a good boy for me this once."
A shiver runs through Boothill's body and incoherent moans spill from his lips, all the while he's tugging harder on your hair. You think you can just barely hear soft pleas with downright pornographic moans of your name but you push it aside, trying to get enough of a grip on yourself to finish the job.
"Alright. It's done. Holding up alright?" You finally stand up after screwing the chest plates back into place, feeling your joints pop from the awkward position you'd been in for the past… Jeez, how long has it been? You cast a glance at Boothill and nearly come undone from the gorgeous sight before you.
His hair was a mess, wayward strands covering parts of his face. You gently brush the strands away, eagerly drinking in the fucked out expression that greeted you. Sure enough, small pricks of blue blood stained his pierced lips from being bitten raw. The soft flesh shone with drool, a few drops nearly falling if it weren't for your thumb swiftly catching them.
"Reckon I'm doin' jus' fine… Peachy, even," Boothill finally answers, peering at you through his long lashes. You bite your lip and press your thumb against his lips, watching it disappear into the cavern. The insides of his mouth were so warm and soft, his tongue laving and suckling at your thumb. You pop it out of his mouth, wiping the remaining saliva across his cheek and grinning.
"S'pose it's time for payment now," you hum. Your eyes trail down his body in a last minute inspection before you frown. "Or not."
Boothill looks downward as well and his cheeks darken. There was a damp patch between his legs that was steadily growing, a familiar slimy fluid making itself known.
"Ah… I was worried this might happen."
You sigh, motioning for Boothill to take his pants off. At this point, he's too far gone to feel any shame. He's pretty sure he's already come just from the sensation of you tugging on his cybernetic insides so stripping down wasn't exactly off the table now. You look away to give some semblance of privacy and once you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor, you turn back.
Boothill was leaning back on the worktable now, his legs spread and head bashfully turned to the side. You sit back down and feel your mouth water at the sight before you.
"I didn't know you had a pussy," you remark, noting the lube that was steadily gushing out of his weeping core. "Don't tell me you had other plans today."
"Shut it… I ain't that kinda man. Was jus'- ah, forget it, what the fork is goin' on now anyway?"
"A minor side effect. Seems like once the system was re-routed correctly, it caused a bit of an overflow. It should die down eventually but…"
"But what? C'mon, don't leave me in the dark like this, doc'."
"Buuuut, I can't give you an exact time on how long it'll take to stop. It can take anywhere from a couple minutes to a few hours. It also depends on exactly how much lube is supposed to flow out."
"A couple hours?! The fork am I s'posed t' do then?! I can't walk around like I'm some muddlefudgin' kid who can't keep it in?!"
You sigh, rubbing at your temples. You did have an idea but it all depended on Boothill and how comfortable he feels around you.
"I do know one way we could speed the process up but…"
"I swear on mah hat that I don't give a flying fork on what you gotta do at this point."
"Then how comfortable are you with me eating you out?"
Boothill's jaw hangs open at that. He's almost certain he misheard. It's not like it wasn't a dream come true. I mean, what cyborg doesn't wish to be manhandled and roughed up by his trusted mechanic? But you can't exactly fault him for being in shock when the offer just falls into his lap like this.
"Gee, at least take me out fer dinner first," Boothill sighs. He leans back and spreads his legs further in a clear invitation for you to dive in. "But go on. Put that mouth o' yers to good use fer once."
You grin, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream. You drag Boothill closer by the hips, relishing in the shiver that wracks through his body when he feels your breath ghosting over his pussy.
"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" you hum. You run an experimental finger down the soft flesh, just barely dipping the tip inside his weeping hole. A breathy moan sounds from above, followed by a curse when you lick the lube that had gathered on your finger.
"Wow, this tastes good. Are you sure you didn't lace this stuff with drugs?"
"Hm… Addictive nonetheless."
Boothill rolls his eyes and tugs on your hair. You pat his thigh, muttering something about patience and appreciating beauty for what it's worth. He's really hoping you don't forget about him and start nerding out about how beautifully crafted his pussy is or whatever it is that gets mechanics turned on.
Thankfully, you don't get sidetracked. A pleased sigh leaves Boothill's lips as you begin to place fluttering kisses on the insides of his thighs, gradually moving towards where he needs you the most.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were this wet just for me," you remark. You press a feather-light kiss on his clit and grin at the way his pussy all but flutters, lube gushing out even faster now.
"F-fudge… Don't flatter yerself…. Though ya may have played a role in it."
"Oh, I am definitely taking you out to dinner after this."
Boothill opens his mouth to argue back when he lets out a vulgar moan instead. You'd placed your warm lips over his clit, sucking gently on the bud. He tugs your face closer while simultaneously rocking his hips into your mouth.
You moan against his clit, the vibrations sending a heady rush of pleasure into Boothill's brain. His eyes roll back briefly, a long string of curses leaving him.
"M-muddlefudger, ya do this often?" Boothill gasps, trying his best to keep his thighs from closing in around your head. You grin and lick a fat stripe up his pussy, savoring the sweet fluids leaking from his hole.
"Nah… But if you're saying I'm good at this then thanks. Was afraid I'd gotten rusty," you reply. Boothill glares down at you and tugs harder on your hair. Less talking, more licking.
You get the message, setting a mind-melting rhythm as you alternate between kitten licks and long rough licks up his core. The sweet lube continues to flow onto your awaiting tongue and vaguely you wonder if there was no end to the supply. Not that you'd mind, though Boothill certainly would if his squirming body and whimpers were anything to go by.
You pat his thigh in an effort to soothe him and feel his free hand reach down to lace his fingers with yours. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you smile. As if to reward him, you trace sloppy stars over his clit while your tongue dips inside his hole. From the way his pussy was fluttering around your tongue and the way his moans grew more ragged, you could tell he was getting close.
"About to cum, cowboy?" You ask, briefly stopping your actions. Boothill whines, his expression dazed and bordering on fucked out.
"Ngh! Y-yeah… F-fudge! P-please… Don't stop now. 'M so close," he begs, bucking his hip as if chasing your tongue.
"Hmm… You can beg better than that, can't you? Go on. Beg for it."
Boothill's pouty lips tremble and if it weren't for the fact that he'd gotten his tear ducts removed, you were sure he would've started crying. He takes in a shaky deep breath, debating on whether his need to come mattered more than his dignity.
"Please…! Please touch me, doc'…. I need ya so forkin' bad! Can't finish without yer tongue!" Boothill whines. He lets out a soft sob, continuing to tug at your hair and begging for you to let him cum. As much as you'd love to edge him further and draw it out, you figure that he's gone through enough for one day. Perhaps some other time.
Relenting, you all but dive back between Boothill's legs, lapping at his sweet pussy and milking it for all it's worth. He keens loudly, his teeth mauling his bottom lip while you made out with his lower lips like a lover. You roughly press your tongue inside his hole, basking in the sound of Boothill's breathless " 'M so close, 'm so close."
The orgasm crashes over him like a wave. He throws his head back and moans, all while grinding his pussy against your face to ride it out. You were nearly suffocating but hey, there were worse ways to die.
Pressing one final little kiss to his clit, you eventually pull away and look up. Boothill was almost slumped over, blood and drool steadily dripping from his lips and his eyes still rolled in the back of his head. Sensing your movement, he glances at you with a dazed expression, mumbling a soft whimper of your name.
"Shit… You did so well," you murmur, stroking his hair. You stand up properly, pulling Boothill into your arms and peppering gentle kisses to the side of his head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. "Never seen a sight more beautiful."
"Mmf… Fudge. Reckon I won't be able t' move fer a while," he mutters.
"That's a shame. I was hoping to take you out for that dinner but… let's eat in instead, yeah?"
Boothill stifles a snort and gives you a look.
" 'M surprised you're hungry after eatin' me out."
"I've got a separate stomach for pussy eating and another for food."
"Right. Should'a guessed."
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