Prison fic is still my boyfriend
I will write this story at some point (the dynamics are amazing!), but alas I am a one-story-at-a-time girl, so it is not the prison AU's time to shine. Sunday is a good day for visiting though.
Untitled. Prison AU. B/N. NC-17. 648.
The guard’s barely passed by their cell before Nate’s down on the cement floor on his knees in front of Brad’s bunk.
“Get your dick out if you want it sucked,” he hisses.
Brad was half-asleep when the guard’s light passed over his face, but that doesn’t count for much in prison, so he sits up so fast he almost smashes his face on the bottom of Nate’s bunk before Nate’s even done talking.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Nate looks at him like he’s too retarded for the electric chair. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“God, no,” Brad agrees, already digging in his shorts for his cock. He jerks it a few times before Nate pushes his hand away and gets him the rest of the way hard with rough strokes. When it’s to his liking he sucks Brad’s cock down like it’s dinner from a four-star restaurant.
All the guys who talk shit are absolutely right. Nate has the perfect cocksucking mouth and he knows how to use it. He doesn’t waste time with girly, tongue in the piss-slit, kissing the head garbage, just sucks Brad tight and hot and squeezes his balls.
“Fuck,” Brad says quietly, holding onto the edge of his mattress hard. When Nate sucks his dick he’s not allowed to fuck Nate’s mouth or touch his hair, so he just sits, the muscles in his legs trembling. He wants to hold on longer, but his brain’s racing ahead, thinking about porn magazine tits and Nate’s ass in the shower, how it might feel to fuck it.
He comes hard thinking that crazy jumble of things, his face screwed up and his eyes closed. For the first time Nate doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t swallow either, but he does let Brad come in his mouth, Brad’s cock rubbing against his tongue while he shoots.
“F-fuck,” Brad moans when he can, the head of his cock slipping out of Nate’s mouth, resting against his bottom lip.
Nate looks up at him for a moment, his eyes half-lidded. Then he turns to the side and spits twice, Brad’s come spattering across the floor. They both stare at it for a moment, the pearly glitter against the dull cement, and then Nate uses Brad’s knee to lever himself up. He’s hard, his cock pressed against his briefs. It’s level with Brad’s face for the instant before Nate starts to climb up to his bunk.
“What the fuck was that for?” Brad asks Nate’s disappearing left leg.
“I wanted to.”
Brad snorts. “Alright then.” He tucks himself back into his underwear as Nate shifts above him, spitting into his hand and then sighing.
“Do you want me to-“
“No,” Nate says, his fist going fwip, fwip, fwip, so there’s no choice for Brad beside laying back in his bunk and listening to Nate stroke his way to a long orgasm.
*
The next morning Nate's standing in front of the sink brushing his teeth, staring up at the ceiling. Brad puts on his socks and tries to ignore Nate scratching his belly thoughtfully with his free hand.
He puts on his cheap, comfortable prison-issue shoes and stands, glancing at the ceiling. Maybe Nate's gonna try and dig his way up and out. He would.
Nate keeps brushing, but his hand moves down, idly snapping the elastic on his briefs, shifting the band down. Brad looks back at the ceiling.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" he asks irritably.
Nate spits into the sink twice. He sets his toothbrush on the shelf above the sink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then points to where he was staring.
"Look," he says. "I came so hard last night I got some on the ceiling."
Brad closes his eyes, and then a guard taps on the door to get them out for count.
Untitled. Prison AU. B/N. NC-17. 648.
The guard’s barely passed by their cell before Nate’s down on the cement floor on his knees in front of Brad’s bunk.
“Get your dick out if you want it sucked,” he hisses.
Brad was half-asleep when the guard’s light passed over his face, but that doesn’t count for much in prison, so he sits up so fast he almost smashes his face on the bottom of Nate’s bunk before Nate’s even done talking.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Nate looks at him like he’s too retarded for the electric chair. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“God, no,” Brad agrees, already digging in his shorts for his cock. He jerks it a few times before Nate pushes his hand away and gets him the rest of the way hard with rough strokes. When it’s to his liking he sucks Brad’s cock down like it’s dinner from a four-star restaurant.
All the guys who talk shit are absolutely right. Nate has the perfect cocksucking mouth and he knows how to use it. He doesn’t waste time with girly, tongue in the piss-slit, kissing the head garbage, just sucks Brad tight and hot and squeezes his balls.
“Fuck,” Brad says quietly, holding onto the edge of his mattress hard. When Nate sucks his dick he’s not allowed to fuck Nate’s mouth or touch his hair, so he just sits, the muscles in his legs trembling. He wants to hold on longer, but his brain’s racing ahead, thinking about porn magazine tits and Nate’s ass in the shower, how it might feel to fuck it.
He comes hard thinking that crazy jumble of things, his face screwed up and his eyes closed. For the first time Nate doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t swallow either, but he does let Brad come in his mouth, Brad’s cock rubbing against his tongue while he shoots.
“F-fuck,” Brad moans when he can, the head of his cock slipping out of Nate’s mouth, resting against his bottom lip.
Nate looks up at him for a moment, his eyes half-lidded. Then he turns to the side and spits twice, Brad’s come spattering across the floor. They both stare at it for a moment, the pearly glitter against the dull cement, and then Nate uses Brad’s knee to lever himself up. He’s hard, his cock pressed against his briefs. It’s level with Brad’s face for the instant before Nate starts to climb up to his bunk.
“What the fuck was that for?” Brad asks Nate’s disappearing left leg.
“I wanted to.”
Brad snorts. “Alright then.” He tucks himself back into his underwear as Nate shifts above him, spitting into his hand and then sighing.
“Do you want me to-“
“No,” Nate says, his fist going fwip, fwip, fwip, so there’s no choice for Brad beside laying back in his bunk and listening to Nate stroke his way to a long orgasm.
*
The next morning Nate's standing in front of the sink brushing his teeth, staring up at the ceiling. Brad puts on his socks and tries to ignore Nate scratching his belly thoughtfully with his free hand.
He puts on his cheap, comfortable prison-issue shoes and stands, glancing at the ceiling. Maybe Nate's gonna try and dig his way up and out. He would.
Nate keeps brushing, but his hand moves down, idly snapping the elastic on his briefs, shifting the band down. Brad looks back at the ceiling.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" he asks irritably.
Nate spits into the sink twice. He sets his toothbrush on the shelf above the sink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then points to where he was staring.
"Look," he says. "I came so hard last night I got some on the ceiling."
Brad closes his eyes, and then a guard taps on the door to get them out for count.