FIC: So Confident and Wise (1/1)
TITLE: So Confident and Wise
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Fick/OMC
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: I know I've seen this place before
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Nate Fick, who is a real person, though this portrayal is based on the one from the "Generation Kill" mini-series, and thus played by Stark Sands. I also don't own Tim Bayliss who makes an appearance or John, because inlovewithnight created him. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For inlovewithnight who wanted Nate/John. Nate is Nate from "Generation Kill" and John is a made up character portrayed in my head by Ioan Gruffudd. You'll see there is no bad there, so if you don't give a shit about either of the fandoms, just take it as original and it's two boys having the sex.
John’s careful or John’s as good as dead, because the real rule in the Marines isn’t ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, it’s ‘don’t get caught with your dick in some other guy’. He doesn’t go to bars near the base, and he takes his leaves where the cities are big enough that he’s anonymous, which is why he’s holed up in what is apparently a cop bar in this dubious section of Baltimore, drinking his whiskey slowly and watching the crowd.
There are worse places for a gay Marine, he’s sure, but other than a KKK rally in the middle of Alabama, he can’t think of one. Still, no one’s bothering him and the whiskey’s old and smooth, so he can’t really complain. He certainly doesn’t complain when a guy sits at his table, regulation haircut making John sit up straighter in his chair.
“Corps?”
“Sergeant John Evans. Stone Bay at Camp Lejune.”
“Lieutenant Nate Fick. Pendleton.”
John’s eyebrows go up and he takes a drink. “Which unit are you with?” When Nate answers him, he takes another drink. “Recon. You guys are the shit.”
“I haven’t actually started yet. I’m heading to training at the end of the week. So I’m really just sort of ‘the-shit-to-be’.”
John laughs. “Well, in the case you should drink while you can. What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey’s fine.”
John heads to the bar and orders another round, watching Nate at the table. Nate’s eyes move around the room before settling on John again. John nods then turns back to the bar, taking two glasses from his earlier object of interest, a tall detective with glasses and long fingers that curl around the battle in ways that make John’s body tighten. “Thanks.”
“Hometown boy.” The detective nods in Nate’s direction.
“Fellow Marine.” The bartender-detective nods, giving John a slight smile. John’s careful not to read anything into it, even if he wants to, then moves back to settle at the table with Nate. “Whiskey.”
“Thanks.” Nate takes the glass, his fingers brushing against John’s. John doesn’t react, aware that signals aren’t always signals. Nate sips his drink, his green eyes on John’s over the rim of his glass. “So, you’ve been in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.” Nate frowns at his scotch. “You’re not from around here.”
“Nope. California by way of Texas.”
“So what brings you to Baltimore? Friends? Family?”
John takes a drink of his whiskey and meets Nate’s gaze, telling himself to keep his mouth shut. “Anonymity.”
“Not interested in ticker-tape parades?”
“We won’t be getting those.” John smirks. “Besides, I didn’t join the Corps for the parade routes.” Nate laughs and nods and John smiles back at him in earnest. “Sometimes it’s just nice to not know anyone.”
“No one knows you, no one expects anything.”
“Something like that.”
“No one knows. No one tells.” Nate takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving John’s. He stands up and nods toward the door. “You have a hotel room?”
“Down the street.”
“Let me show you around Baltimore.”
John drops some money on the table and follows him, falling into step with him easily. He gives Nate an appraising look and leans in, his voice dropping. “For the record, ‘Baltimore’?” He grins wolfishly. “I prefer to show myself around.”
**
Nate tastes like whiskey and heat, his mouth hungry against John’s. He curves one hand around the base of John’s skull, holding him hard against his mouth, their tongues fighting a private war for dominance. John urges Nate back toward the bed, tumbling him onto the gaudy plaid comforter. Nate sprawls there, licking his thick bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. John groans and sets one knee between Nate’s legs, leaning in to kiss him again. “God, your mouth.”
Nate huffs a laugh against John’s mouth. “You’ve got no room to talk.”
John laughs as well and kisses Nate again, lowering himself so that his body is pressed hard against Nate’s. “Have to be honest though, as much as I’d love to see your mouth wrapped around my cock, I want to fuck you.”
“Night’s still young.” Nate reminds him, his hands sliding over John’s ass, tugging his shirt free from his jeans and then working under the worn cotton.
“You have a point.” John pulls away, letting Nate’s hands guide his shirt up over his head. Nate tosses it aside and sits up to strip off his own jacket and shit, tossing them onto the pile on top of John’s. “Good thing my DI can’t see this.”
“Because we’re about to fuck?”
“No,” John laughs and adopts a thicker southern drawl. “Because, I’m disrespecting my shit, and if I disrespect my shit, I will disrespect the Marine Corps’ shit.” He undoes his jeans and pushes them down as Nate unfastens his own, arching his hips upward to shed them. “okay, maybe the sex too.”
Nate gets to his knees, his body hard and tight, his cock thick as it brushes against his stomach, painting the pale hair there dark and wet. Reaching out, he wraps his fist around John’s dick, his fingers tight as he begins stroking.
“Oh, fuck yes.” John groans low and Nate sways forward, the head of his cock grazing John’s thigh. “Jesus, yes.” He shudders, his eyes closing as he finds Nate’s mouth, sucking hard on his tongue before reaching down and catching Nate’s wrist. “W-want to fuck you.”
Nate laughs, rough and thick. “Then do it, Marine.”
“Sir, yes sir.” John tightens his fingers around Nate’s wrist to break his grip and then twists, making Nate gasp and arch toward him. The steady application of pressure guides Nate down onto the bed, naked and sprawled, pale against the dark cloth. John releases him, shifting so that he’s braced over Nate, reaching past him to fumble in duffel bag on the ground beside the bed, finding his kit bag and digging out a condom and small tube of lubricant. He looks down at Nate’s smile and raised eyebrow and laughs, kissing him rough and quick. “Some things I’d prefer to be prepared for than make do, sir.”
Nate takes the condom from John, sitting up again to slide it onto him with smooth, firm strokes from tip to base. John groans and opens the lube, letting Nate coat his dick with it while John lubes up his fingers. Nate’s eyes are hot on John’s body, his gaze fueling the heat burning low in John’s groin. “God. Enough.”
Nate eases back, sprawling like sin on the bed, sweat and muscle and skin. John leans in and braces himself on one hand, kissing Nate hard as his other hand teases between Nate’s legs, fingers brushing his opening. Nate’s breath hitches as John penetrates him, his finger sliding to the first knuckle and then the second. Nate’s body tightens around him. “Fuck,” John whispers, his finger thrusting slowly as Nate begins to relax. “Jesus, I want to be inside you.”
Nate laughs roughly, gasping as John presses a second finger inside him. “It’s mutual.”
“So fucking tight. Going to have to finger you for hours just to get you ready for me.”
“Am ready.” Nate’s body is arched off the bed, the roll of his hips urging John deeper. “C’mon. Fuck me.”
John presses a third finger in, working deeper, spreading his fingers against the tight constriction of Nate’s body. “So fucking…fuck.” John eases his fingers free, watching as Nate’s body ratchets with shudders. His hands slide under Nate’s legs, pushing them up, opening Nate’s body as he crawls closer, resting Nate’s thighs over his own. Rubbing his cock against Nate’s opening, he raises up on his knees and thrusts in, sheathing himself in Nate’s heat. “O-oh, fuck.” John’s hands grasp at Nate’s hips, urging him closer, pushing deeper inside, listening to every desperate, raw gasp that Nate makes.
He measures time by movements, by the thick groans neither he nor Nate can hold back, by the sheen of sweat that he tastes in the messy kisses. He comes hard, closing his eyes and stilling deep inside Nate. Nate constricts around him and light explodes behind his eyes like tracers in the Afghan sky. He wraps his hand around Nate’s both of them stroking hard and fast along the length of Nate’s cock, jerking him until he sputters a hoarse cry and comes as well.
**
Nate’s gone when John comes out of the bathroom, and it’s probably for the best. Small talk just reminds him of what he is and what he’s not supposed to want because of that; he imagines it’s not much better for Nate. Still, one more night in Baltimore down and just one more to go before he’s expected to report back for duty. He turns on the TV and finds something other than the news, settling on a banal sitcom and wondering if the cop will be on duty in the bar tomorrow night.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Fick/OMC
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: I know I've seen this place before
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Nate Fick, who is a real person, though this portrayal is based on the one from the "Generation Kill" mini-series, and thus played by Stark Sands. I also don't own Tim Bayliss who makes an appearance or John, because inlovewithnight created him. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For inlovewithnight who wanted Nate/John. Nate is Nate from "Generation Kill" and John is a made up character portrayed in my head by Ioan Gruffudd. You'll see there is no bad there, so if you don't give a shit about either of the fandoms, just take it as original and it's two boys having the sex.
John’s careful or John’s as good as dead, because the real rule in the Marines isn’t ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, it’s ‘don’t get caught with your dick in some other guy’. He doesn’t go to bars near the base, and he takes his leaves where the cities are big enough that he’s anonymous, which is why he’s holed up in what is apparently a cop bar in this dubious section of Baltimore, drinking his whiskey slowly and watching the crowd.
There are worse places for a gay Marine, he’s sure, but other than a KKK rally in the middle of Alabama, he can’t think of one. Still, no one’s bothering him and the whiskey’s old and smooth, so he can’t really complain. He certainly doesn’t complain when a guy sits at his table, regulation haircut making John sit up straighter in his chair.
“Corps?”
“Sergeant John Evans. Stone Bay at Camp Lejune.”
“Lieutenant Nate Fick. Pendleton.”
John’s eyebrows go up and he takes a drink. “Which unit are you with?” When Nate answers him, he takes another drink. “Recon. You guys are the shit.”
“I haven’t actually started yet. I’m heading to training at the end of the week. So I’m really just sort of ‘the-shit-to-be’.”
John laughs. “Well, in the case you should drink while you can. What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey’s fine.”
John heads to the bar and orders another round, watching Nate at the table. Nate’s eyes move around the room before settling on John again. John nods then turns back to the bar, taking two glasses from his earlier object of interest, a tall detective with glasses and long fingers that curl around the battle in ways that make John’s body tighten. “Thanks.”
“Hometown boy.” The detective nods in Nate’s direction.
“Fellow Marine.” The bartender-detective nods, giving John a slight smile. John’s careful not to read anything into it, even if he wants to, then moves back to settle at the table with Nate. “Whiskey.”
“Thanks.” Nate takes the glass, his fingers brushing against John’s. John doesn’t react, aware that signals aren’t always signals. Nate sips his drink, his green eyes on John’s over the rim of his glass. “So, you’ve been in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.” Nate frowns at his scotch. “You’re not from around here.”
“Nope. California by way of Texas.”
“So what brings you to Baltimore? Friends? Family?”
John takes a drink of his whiskey and meets Nate’s gaze, telling himself to keep his mouth shut. “Anonymity.”
“Not interested in ticker-tape parades?”
“We won’t be getting those.” John smirks. “Besides, I didn’t join the Corps for the parade routes.” Nate laughs and nods and John smiles back at him in earnest. “Sometimes it’s just nice to not know anyone.”
“No one knows you, no one expects anything.”
“Something like that.”
“No one knows. No one tells.” Nate takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving John’s. He stands up and nods toward the door. “You have a hotel room?”
“Down the street.”
“Let me show you around Baltimore.”
John drops some money on the table and follows him, falling into step with him easily. He gives Nate an appraising look and leans in, his voice dropping. “For the record, ‘Baltimore’?” He grins wolfishly. “I prefer to show myself around.”
**
Nate tastes like whiskey and heat, his mouth hungry against John’s. He curves one hand around the base of John’s skull, holding him hard against his mouth, their tongues fighting a private war for dominance. John urges Nate back toward the bed, tumbling him onto the gaudy plaid comforter. Nate sprawls there, licking his thick bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. John groans and sets one knee between Nate’s legs, leaning in to kiss him again. “God, your mouth.”
Nate huffs a laugh against John’s mouth. “You’ve got no room to talk.”
John laughs as well and kisses Nate again, lowering himself so that his body is pressed hard against Nate’s. “Have to be honest though, as much as I’d love to see your mouth wrapped around my cock, I want to fuck you.”
“Night’s still young.” Nate reminds him, his hands sliding over John’s ass, tugging his shirt free from his jeans and then working under the worn cotton.
“You have a point.” John pulls away, letting Nate’s hands guide his shirt up over his head. Nate tosses it aside and sits up to strip off his own jacket and shit, tossing them onto the pile on top of John’s. “Good thing my DI can’t see this.”
“Because we’re about to fuck?”
“No,” John laughs and adopts a thicker southern drawl. “Because, I’m disrespecting my shit, and if I disrespect my shit, I will disrespect the Marine Corps’ shit.” He undoes his jeans and pushes them down as Nate unfastens his own, arching his hips upward to shed them. “okay, maybe the sex too.”
Nate gets to his knees, his body hard and tight, his cock thick as it brushes against his stomach, painting the pale hair there dark and wet. Reaching out, he wraps his fist around John’s dick, his fingers tight as he begins stroking.
“Oh, fuck yes.” John groans low and Nate sways forward, the head of his cock grazing John’s thigh. “Jesus, yes.” He shudders, his eyes closing as he finds Nate’s mouth, sucking hard on his tongue before reaching down and catching Nate’s wrist. “W-want to fuck you.”
Nate laughs, rough and thick. “Then do it, Marine.”
“Sir, yes sir.” John tightens his fingers around Nate’s wrist to break his grip and then twists, making Nate gasp and arch toward him. The steady application of pressure guides Nate down onto the bed, naked and sprawled, pale against the dark cloth. John releases him, shifting so that he’s braced over Nate, reaching past him to fumble in duffel bag on the ground beside the bed, finding his kit bag and digging out a condom and small tube of lubricant. He looks down at Nate’s smile and raised eyebrow and laughs, kissing him rough and quick. “Some things I’d prefer to be prepared for than make do, sir.”
Nate takes the condom from John, sitting up again to slide it onto him with smooth, firm strokes from tip to base. John groans and opens the lube, letting Nate coat his dick with it while John lubes up his fingers. Nate’s eyes are hot on John’s body, his gaze fueling the heat burning low in John’s groin. “God. Enough.”
Nate eases back, sprawling like sin on the bed, sweat and muscle and skin. John leans in and braces himself on one hand, kissing Nate hard as his other hand teases between Nate’s legs, fingers brushing his opening. Nate’s breath hitches as John penetrates him, his finger sliding to the first knuckle and then the second. Nate’s body tightens around him. “Fuck,” John whispers, his finger thrusting slowly as Nate begins to relax. “Jesus, I want to be inside you.”
Nate laughs roughly, gasping as John presses a second finger inside him. “It’s mutual.”
“So fucking tight. Going to have to finger you for hours just to get you ready for me.”
“Am ready.” Nate’s body is arched off the bed, the roll of his hips urging John deeper. “C’mon. Fuck me.”
John presses a third finger in, working deeper, spreading his fingers against the tight constriction of Nate’s body. “So fucking…fuck.” John eases his fingers free, watching as Nate’s body ratchets with shudders. His hands slide under Nate’s legs, pushing them up, opening Nate’s body as he crawls closer, resting Nate’s thighs over his own. Rubbing his cock against Nate’s opening, he raises up on his knees and thrusts in, sheathing himself in Nate’s heat. “O-oh, fuck.” John’s hands grasp at Nate’s hips, urging him closer, pushing deeper inside, listening to every desperate, raw gasp that Nate makes.
He measures time by movements, by the thick groans neither he nor Nate can hold back, by the sheen of sweat that he tastes in the messy kisses. He comes hard, closing his eyes and stilling deep inside Nate. Nate constricts around him and light explodes behind his eyes like tracers in the Afghan sky. He wraps his hand around Nate’s both of them stroking hard and fast along the length of Nate’s cock, jerking him until he sputters a hoarse cry and comes as well.
**
Nate’s gone when John comes out of the bathroom, and it’s probably for the best. Small talk just reminds him of what he is and what he’s not supposed to want because of that; he imagines it’s not much better for Nate. Still, one more night in Baltimore down and just one more to go before he’s expected to report back for duty. He turns on the TV and finds something other than the news, settling on a banal sitcom and wondering if the cop will be on duty in the bar tomorrow night.