[Generation Kill] Ray/Walt | One Third
Title: One Third
Summary: They shouldn't be doing this.
Fandom: Generation Kill
Characters/Pairings: Ray/Walt, Walt/OC
Genre: Angst-ish
Rating: R; oral sex, infidelity
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 360
Author's Notes: Prompt #11: image.
Disclaimer: Based on the fictionalized characters as played by Pawel Szajda and PJ Ransone in the HBO miniseries, not the real people.
They shouldn't be doing this.
Ray shouldn't be nibbling on Walt's skin, especially at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. He shouldn't be biting down savagely, hard enough to leave a visible bruise, a mark to show the world that Ray had done it, had claimed Walt, even if it was only for one night.
In eight hours, Walt will have to leave the hotel room, scarf hiding Ray's willful, contrary bites.
Now, they're doing exactly what they're not supposed to do; Walt's wedding ring is plucked dully from his ring finger, the skin beneath still tanned as the rest of him. It skids into a pocket, and the coat ends up sliding across the coffee table and landing in a heap on the carpet.
Ray has no words. He has no words, so he makes up for the loss in the swipe of his tongue across Walt's collarbones, in the scrape of his teeth against the jutting vee of Walt's hips, and in the teasing rub of his cheek against Walt's erection. He looks up at Walt, mouth open in a little 'o', watching as Walt pants, his pupils blown wide.
He doesn't have to wait long before Walt's fingers twist in Ray's short hair, tugging him forward roughly, and Ray delights in Walt's want, pushing down the guilt that will writhe in his belly long after Walt leaves. But that's later. Now, Ray is bad; he's the terrible guy who sucks down Walt's thick cock and relishes in the burn of his lips and throat. He's the one who's making the loud moans that echo in the quiet room, the one who chokes and drips saliva all over his own feet, and who silently begs for more.
He can't give Walt a gold ring, or more than eight hours of his time, because Walt is taken. But for eight hours, he gets to snatch his summer's child, greasy, sad, cheerful, country, brother-in-arms Walt back, and pretend that they have hours more together, that Walt won't leave for his real family, his real home, leaving Ray behind in a sham of a hotel room, fake furnishings surrounding a make-believe life.
Summary: They shouldn't be doing this.
Fandom: Generation Kill
Characters/Pairings: Ray/Walt, Walt/OC
Genre: Angst-ish
Rating: R; oral sex, infidelity
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 360
Author's Notes: Prompt #11: image.
Disclaimer: Based on the fictionalized characters as played by Pawel Szajda and PJ Ransone in the HBO miniseries, not the real people.
They shouldn't be doing this.
Ray shouldn't be nibbling on Walt's skin, especially at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. He shouldn't be biting down savagely, hard enough to leave a visible bruise, a mark to show the world that Ray had done it, had claimed Walt, even if it was only for one night.
In eight hours, Walt will have to leave the hotel room, scarf hiding Ray's willful, contrary bites.
Now, they're doing exactly what they're not supposed to do; Walt's wedding ring is plucked dully from his ring finger, the skin beneath still tanned as the rest of him. It skids into a pocket, and the coat ends up sliding across the coffee table and landing in a heap on the carpet.
Ray has no words. He has no words, so he makes up for the loss in the swipe of his tongue across Walt's collarbones, in the scrape of his teeth against the jutting vee of Walt's hips, and in the teasing rub of his cheek against Walt's erection. He looks up at Walt, mouth open in a little 'o', watching as Walt pants, his pupils blown wide.
He doesn't have to wait long before Walt's fingers twist in Ray's short hair, tugging him forward roughly, and Ray delights in Walt's want, pushing down the guilt that will writhe in his belly long after Walt leaves. But that's later. Now, Ray is bad; he's the terrible guy who sucks down Walt's thick cock and relishes in the burn of his lips and throat. He's the one who's making the loud moans that echo in the quiet room, the one who chokes and drips saliva all over his own feet, and who silently begs for more.
He can't give Walt a gold ring, or more than eight hours of his time, because Walt is taken. But for eight hours, he gets to snatch his summer's child, greasy, sad, cheerful, country, brother-in-arms Walt back, and pretend that they have hours more together, that Walt won't leave for his real family, his real home, leaving Ray behind in a sham of a hotel room, fake furnishings surrounding a make-believe life.