fic: back when the earth was new
back when the earth was new
Generation Kill; Brad (Brad/Nate); R; 781 words
Everything he wants is completely inappropriate and in direct violation of the UCMJ.
For jujubinha's prompt at my advent calender. Thanks to preromantics for looking it over.
~*~
Brad always does his recon. He's always been observant, but after having it beaten into him, scanning the area and assessing for danger isn't a choice anymore. He does it involuntarily. If he doesn't, he could compromise the mission or get someone hurt or killed. So he always surveys the scene.
He catalogues every look the LT gives him, counts all the extra seconds Lovell and Poke and Pappy don't get. He notices how, as the invasion goes on, the bags under the LT's eyes get darker and wonders if having a great CO who's running on little or no sleep is better or worse than a moronic captain. He counts how many times the LT bites his lip when they speak, and notices how little he sleeps compared to everyone else. And he watches how disheartened Nate-not the LT, Nate-becomes after a conversation with said moronic captain.
Brad wants to be the only one who holds Nate's attention all the time, who gets those intense looks. Really, everything he wants is completely inappropriate and in direct violation of the UCMJ: to shield Nate from Encino Man's idiocy, for Nate to sleep curled against Brad so no one would dare bother him, to see if Nate's mouth tastes or feels even half as good as it looks. To fuck Nate up against a shot-up palm tree or the command vehicle, swallowing the sounds Nate makes when Brad swipes across the head of his cock.
It's a fantasy, though, because every look they share could be seen by at least a few people, who could all interpret it differently. The worst machination of it is the simple truth, and Brad's not stupid. The Marine Corps is his life, and he won't do anything to jeopardize Nate's career. Both of them will have promotions to think about, but the Corps needs a greater number of smart, competent officers like Nate more than it needs grunts.
It'd be so easy for them to get caught, out in the desert surrounded by Recon Marines who are trained and paid to observe, who are so horny they'd instantly pick up on the sound of a grunt or a moan or skin against skin.
He does jerk off a couple times, when it's late and quiet, allowing himself only to think of the meaningless sex he'd bought before deploying. Nothing else.
*
Once they're back, he signs on for a two-year exchange in England. The bullshit's built up too much; he needs a break from it. He doesn't bother pretending that being able to fuck whoever he wants without consequences isn't a relief.
*
There's almost as much bullshit in England as there was back in California. But since Brad's Brad, he'll be with the SBS, which means he won't be just another grunt. He'll have some authority and independence-hopefully enough to keep him happy, or at least satisfied.
Brad's CO is Major Fleming, a solid, competent officer with a wicked sense of humor. Fleming's leadership isn't anything extraordinary; he cares about his guys, but not overly so; and his moto speeches are more due to obligation than enthusiasm. He's smart enough, though, and won't use the members of his company as stepping stones to a promotion.
Brad's lieutenant is so cherry he could garnish one of those girly mixed drinks.
It's the SNCOs who really impress Brad. Save for one or two, they're dedicated, hardworking, and knowledgeable. Granted, he can't understand half of what most of them say, but he's willing to go out for drinks with them on weekends sometimes. Not often, but occasionally. After all, he's living in the barracks with PFCs, FNGs, and a Marine previously stationed at Camp Lejeune, and that shit got old fast.
*
But when Brad doesn't have to live in the barracks anymore, he realizes, after four drinks at a bar and one misjudgment, that he doesn't really like it. ('It' being screwing around with another guy.) Getting his dick sucked is never bad, and usually pretty good, but tonight, it's a struggle to keep his erection even as Keith or Kevin or whoever sucks him off. His fingers are stroking behind Brad's balls, Brad's cock all the way down his throat, and all Brad manages when he comes is a weak pulse.
*
Stupidly, it doesn't dawn on him until a week or so later that maybe he doesn't like guys. Maybe he only likes Nate.
*
Here, he gets two weeks of leave for the holidays. He knows his family would like to see him for Hanukkah, but he gives himself a three day layover between Boston and San Diego.
There's someone he needs to see.
Generation Kill; Brad (Brad/Nate); R; 781 words
Everything he wants is completely inappropriate and in direct violation of the UCMJ.
For jujubinha's prompt at my advent calender. Thanks to preromantics for looking it over.
~*~
Brad always does his recon. He's always been observant, but after having it beaten into him, scanning the area and assessing for danger isn't a choice anymore. He does it involuntarily. If he doesn't, he could compromise the mission or get someone hurt or killed. So he always surveys the scene.
He catalogues every look the LT gives him, counts all the extra seconds Lovell and Poke and Pappy don't get. He notices how, as the invasion goes on, the bags under the LT's eyes get darker and wonders if having a great CO who's running on little or no sleep is better or worse than a moronic captain. He counts how many times the LT bites his lip when they speak, and notices how little he sleeps compared to everyone else. And he watches how disheartened Nate-not the LT, Nate-becomes after a conversation with said moronic captain.
Brad wants to be the only one who holds Nate's attention all the time, who gets those intense looks. Really, everything he wants is completely inappropriate and in direct violation of the UCMJ: to shield Nate from Encino Man's idiocy, for Nate to sleep curled against Brad so no one would dare bother him, to see if Nate's mouth tastes or feels even half as good as it looks. To fuck Nate up against a shot-up palm tree or the command vehicle, swallowing the sounds Nate makes when Brad swipes across the head of his cock.
It's a fantasy, though, because every look they share could be seen by at least a few people, who could all interpret it differently. The worst machination of it is the simple truth, and Brad's not stupid. The Marine Corps is his life, and he won't do anything to jeopardize Nate's career. Both of them will have promotions to think about, but the Corps needs a greater number of smart, competent officers like Nate more than it needs grunts.
It'd be so easy for them to get caught, out in the desert surrounded by Recon Marines who are trained and paid to observe, who are so horny they'd instantly pick up on the sound of a grunt or a moan or skin against skin.
He does jerk off a couple times, when it's late and quiet, allowing himself only to think of the meaningless sex he'd bought before deploying. Nothing else.
*
Once they're back, he signs on for a two-year exchange in England. The bullshit's built up too much; he needs a break from it. He doesn't bother pretending that being able to fuck whoever he wants without consequences isn't a relief.
*
There's almost as much bullshit in England as there was back in California. But since Brad's Brad, he'll be with the SBS, which means he won't be just another grunt. He'll have some authority and independence-hopefully enough to keep him happy, or at least satisfied.
Brad's CO is Major Fleming, a solid, competent officer with a wicked sense of humor. Fleming's leadership isn't anything extraordinary; he cares about his guys, but not overly so; and his moto speeches are more due to obligation than enthusiasm. He's smart enough, though, and won't use the members of his company as stepping stones to a promotion.
Brad's lieutenant is so cherry he could garnish one of those girly mixed drinks.
It's the SNCOs who really impress Brad. Save for one or two, they're dedicated, hardworking, and knowledgeable. Granted, he can't understand half of what most of them say, but he's willing to go out for drinks with them on weekends sometimes. Not often, but occasionally. After all, he's living in the barracks with PFCs, FNGs, and a Marine previously stationed at Camp Lejeune, and that shit got old fast.
*
But when Brad doesn't have to live in the barracks anymore, he realizes, after four drinks at a bar and one misjudgment, that he doesn't really like it. ('It' being screwing around with another guy.) Getting his dick sucked is never bad, and usually pretty good, but tonight, it's a struggle to keep his erection even as Keith or Kevin or whoever sucks him off. His fingers are stroking behind Brad's balls, Brad's cock all the way down his throat, and all Brad manages when he comes is a weak pulse.
*
Stupidly, it doesn't dawn on him until a week or so later that maybe he doesn't like guys. Maybe he only likes Nate.
*
Here, he gets two weeks of leave for the holidays. He knows his family would like to see him for Hanukkah, but he gives himself a three day layover between Boston and San Diego.
There's someone he needs to see.