Fic! Sort of! For Puckling!
I am attempting an experiment. Many moons ago, puckling bought my soul fic writing services, and asked for Brad/Nate/Ray/Walt. And I was totally planning on having it finished in a timely manner! And then I didn't. And still didn't. And STILL didn't. And still don't.
But! Here's what I'm gonna do. I have almost 6000 words written. I'm going to post 1000 words every other day until it's finished. This will have the benefit of giving darling Puck something to read, AND of motivating my ass to finish the damned thing.
So today, I present to you Part One of Spit Out Your Bubblegum. Ray/Nate, Brad/Walt, Ray/Nate/Brad/Walt. This is crazy and nerve wracking. But I hope you enjoy! <3
When Ray was being honest with himself, he had to admit that the idea of Brad and Walt as a couple kind of weirded him out. Not the gay thing - his platoon had apparently hit the homo jackpot, because right after they were both safely out of the Marines, Nate had shown up on Ray’s doorstep with a sheepish smile, a six-pack and a whole mess of blowjobs - but because of the way the ridiculously attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed freaks of nature looked together.
“When we go over to their house,” he said to Nate, who was lying with his feet in Ray’s lap, ignoring him and trying to read a textbook (which was just bullshit, in Ray’s opinion. Nate was on vacation, and vacation for Nate meant coming to San Diego and being alternately annoyed and sodomised by Ray, with beer and dinner and trips to the beach thrown in for propriety’s sake. Strictly no studying allowed). Ray sighed, and continued in a louder voice. “Nate, when we go over to their house, I feel like I’m in that fucked up town from Children of the Corn. I’m pretty sure that they’re gonna string me up one of these days, or like, gut me with a sickle.”
“If they ever gut you with a sickle,” Nate replied, turning a page. “It won’t be because they’re part of some freaky cult, Ray.”
“Now you see, that is abusive behaviour, right there,” Ray protested, pinching at Nate’s big toe. “I don’t have to put up with this psychological abuse from my boyfriend. The Marines gave out pamphlets on this shit, Nate, I know my rights.”
Nate tried to hide it, but Ray could see the little curl at the corner of his mouth that meant Ray was being charming and amusing. He grinned, and slid his hand over Nate’s ankle. “No, but seriously. Like, individually they’re fine, but stick ‘em together and you’ve got the evil twins from The Shining. Fucked up.”
Nate shrugged, set his book down on the floor and sucked his lower lip thoughtfully. “I dunno,” he said. “I think they’re kind of hot together. Don’t you?”
Ray widened his eyes. Nate wasn’t allowed to think anyone else in the world was hot, let alone Ray’s two best friends. His grip on Nate’s ankle tightened. “No! They’re Brad and Walt. That’s fucked up on so many different levels I’d need to draw you a fucking diagram to even demonstrate it to you. Nate.”
Nate was smiling at him, that look in his green eyes that meant he was probably about to get what he wanted, or blow Ray’s mind, or both. “You’ve seriously never thought about Brad bending Walt over the back of his couch and fucking him till he cries? You’ve never thought about that?”
Ray’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he felt heat crawling up his face. He was blushing. That fucking never happened. Fucking Nate Fick and his fucking surprises.
“Well, no LT, I had never thought of that,” he lied (because well fuck, yes he’d thought about it, occasionally, when Nate was off at college being all educated and Ray was stuck out here alone on the West Coast with Brad and Walt inviting him over for pity-dinner). “And you are a fucking pervert. I just want you to know that.” He sniffed and rubbed at his hot cheek. “Poor innocent Walt. I bet he’s gotten all upset right now and he doesn’t even know why.”
Nate’s grin turned ever so slightly evil. It was a good look on him, Ray had to admit, even if it sometimes made his insides shrivel in fear. “I don’t think Walt’s all that innocent, to be honest Ray. Last time I stayed at their house…let’s just say, their walls are thin and Walt doesn’t have much of a concept of ‘inside voice’ when Brad’s tongue is up his ass.”
“Nate!” Nate burst into laughter as Ray straddled his hips, trying to cover his mouth. “Nate, Brad and Walt are celibate, okay! Their love is a pure, platonic bond! My best friends don’t have sex!”
~
Ray knew his best friends had sex.
Apparently Ray was the agony aunt for the whole fucking platoon - which meant that his hardcore kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out image probably left something to be desired - and Walt and Brad had each come to him separately for advice before finally getting their shit together and falling on each other’s dicks.
“I think I’m gay,” Walt had hissed over coffee, his blue eyes wide and panicky. “Ray, I think I’m gay…for Brad.”
“Oh, fuck,” Ray had said, and dropped his face into his place of brioche. “Why me?”
“I wanna suck Walt’s dick,” Brad had told him bluntly two days later, after three quarters of a bottle of Swedish vodka and a pizza. “What are your thoughts on that?”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Even after they’d started dating, they came to him for sex advice, which was uncomfortable and awkward for all involved, except Brad, who had no concept of personal shame. And it wasn’t like Ray was a prude about that shit either - he was a fucking font of sexual wisdom, okay - it was that Brad and Walt had been his best friends for years. The thought of them having sex - blond, blue-eyed Aryan master race sex - freaked him out and turned him on and made him want to run screaming from the room and jump in an ice-lake.
“You’ve been defiling the LT on the regular for like a year, now,” Brad had said once. “And he miraculously hasn’t ditched your hillbilly ass yet. It can’t be on account of your looks or your smarts, so I’m guessing you’re fucking amazing in bed. Must be all the practice you’ve had with goats, pigs, etcetera.”
Ray looked at him, pained. “Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to tell me how much you love me?”
Brad met his eyes steadily. “I once made a woman come six times in the space of half an hour with nothing but my mouth and my fingers,” he started, and Ray rolled his eyes.
“No one doubts your alpha male sexual prowess, Colbert,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that Brad making a woman come six times with nothing but his mouth and fingers was fucking hot. “If you’re intent on giving your old pal Ray an aneurysm brought on by sheer fucked up humiliation, than get the fuck on with it.”
“How do I make Walt come so hard he’ll forget his own name?”
Yeah. Ray didn’t need that kind of bullshit in his life.
Getting wood while thinking of his two closest friends fucking was just not good for day-to-day morale.
continued...
But! Here's what I'm gonna do. I have almost 6000 words written. I'm going to post 1000 words every other day until it's finished. This will have the benefit of giving darling Puck something to read, AND of motivating my ass to finish the damned thing.
So today, I present to you Part One of Spit Out Your Bubblegum. Ray/Nate, Brad/Walt, Ray/Nate/Brad/Walt. This is crazy and nerve wracking. But I hope you enjoy! <3
When Ray was being honest with himself, he had to admit that the idea of Brad and Walt as a couple kind of weirded him out. Not the gay thing - his platoon had apparently hit the homo jackpot, because right after they were both safely out of the Marines, Nate had shown up on Ray’s doorstep with a sheepish smile, a six-pack and a whole mess of blowjobs - but because of the way the ridiculously attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed freaks of nature looked together.
“When we go over to their house,” he said to Nate, who was lying with his feet in Ray’s lap, ignoring him and trying to read a textbook (which was just bullshit, in Ray’s opinion. Nate was on vacation, and vacation for Nate meant coming to San Diego and being alternately annoyed and sodomised by Ray, with beer and dinner and trips to the beach thrown in for propriety’s sake. Strictly no studying allowed). Ray sighed, and continued in a louder voice. “Nate, when we go over to their house, I feel like I’m in that fucked up town from Children of the Corn. I’m pretty sure that they’re gonna string me up one of these days, or like, gut me with a sickle.”
“If they ever gut you with a sickle,” Nate replied, turning a page. “It won’t be because they’re part of some freaky cult, Ray.”
“Now you see, that is abusive behaviour, right there,” Ray protested, pinching at Nate’s big toe. “I don’t have to put up with this psychological abuse from my boyfriend. The Marines gave out pamphlets on this shit, Nate, I know my rights.”
Nate tried to hide it, but Ray could see the little curl at the corner of his mouth that meant Ray was being charming and amusing. He grinned, and slid his hand over Nate’s ankle. “No, but seriously. Like, individually they’re fine, but stick ‘em together and you’ve got the evil twins from The Shining. Fucked up.”
Nate shrugged, set his book down on the floor and sucked his lower lip thoughtfully. “I dunno,” he said. “I think they’re kind of hot together. Don’t you?”
Ray widened his eyes. Nate wasn’t allowed to think anyone else in the world was hot, let alone Ray’s two best friends. His grip on Nate’s ankle tightened. “No! They’re Brad and Walt. That’s fucked up on so many different levels I’d need to draw you a fucking diagram to even demonstrate it to you. Nate.”
Nate was smiling at him, that look in his green eyes that meant he was probably about to get what he wanted, or blow Ray’s mind, or both. “You’ve seriously never thought about Brad bending Walt over the back of his couch and fucking him till he cries? You’ve never thought about that?”
Ray’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he felt heat crawling up his face. He was blushing. That fucking never happened. Fucking Nate Fick and his fucking surprises.
“Well, no LT, I had never thought of that,” he lied (because well fuck, yes he’d thought about it, occasionally, when Nate was off at college being all educated and Ray was stuck out here alone on the West Coast with Brad and Walt inviting him over for pity-dinner). “And you are a fucking pervert. I just want you to know that.” He sniffed and rubbed at his hot cheek. “Poor innocent Walt. I bet he’s gotten all upset right now and he doesn’t even know why.”
Nate’s grin turned ever so slightly evil. It was a good look on him, Ray had to admit, even if it sometimes made his insides shrivel in fear. “I don’t think Walt’s all that innocent, to be honest Ray. Last time I stayed at their house…let’s just say, their walls are thin and Walt doesn’t have much of a concept of ‘inside voice’ when Brad’s tongue is up his ass.”
“Nate!” Nate burst into laughter as Ray straddled his hips, trying to cover his mouth. “Nate, Brad and Walt are celibate, okay! Their love is a pure, platonic bond! My best friends don’t have sex!”
~
Ray knew his best friends had sex.
Apparently Ray was the agony aunt for the whole fucking platoon - which meant that his hardcore kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out image probably left something to be desired - and Walt and Brad had each come to him separately for advice before finally getting their shit together and falling on each other’s dicks.
“I think I’m gay,” Walt had hissed over coffee, his blue eyes wide and panicky. “Ray, I think I’m gay…for Brad.”
“Oh, fuck,” Ray had said, and dropped his face into his place of brioche. “Why me?”
“I wanna suck Walt’s dick,” Brad had told him bluntly two days later, after three quarters of a bottle of Swedish vodka and a pizza. “What are your thoughts on that?”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Even after they’d started dating, they came to him for sex advice, which was uncomfortable and awkward for all involved, except Brad, who had no concept of personal shame. And it wasn’t like Ray was a prude about that shit either - he was a fucking font of sexual wisdom, okay - it was that Brad and Walt had been his best friends for years. The thought of them having sex - blond, blue-eyed Aryan master race sex - freaked him out and turned him on and made him want to run screaming from the room and jump in an ice-lake.
“You’ve been defiling the LT on the regular for like a year, now,” Brad had said once. “And he miraculously hasn’t ditched your hillbilly ass yet. It can’t be on account of your looks or your smarts, so I’m guessing you’re fucking amazing in bed. Must be all the practice you’ve had with goats, pigs, etcetera.”
Ray looked at him, pained. “Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to tell me how much you love me?”
Brad met his eyes steadily. “I once made a woman come six times in the space of half an hour with nothing but my mouth and my fingers,” he started, and Ray rolled his eyes.
“No one doubts your alpha male sexual prowess, Colbert,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that Brad making a woman come six times with nothing but his mouth and fingers was fucking hot. “If you’re intent on giving your old pal Ray an aneurysm brought on by sheer fucked up humiliation, than get the fuck on with it.”
“How do I make Walt come so hard he’ll forget his own name?”
Yeah. Ray didn’t need that kind of bullshit in his life.
Getting wood while thinking of his two closest friends fucking was just not good for day-to-day morale.
continued...