Everything Generation Kill
Brad Colbert x Nate Fick & Ray Person x Walt Hasser & Walt Hasser x OFC
Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Title: Running
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Prompt: For annundriel
Word Count: 124
When Brad sets out, his only goal is to get as many speeding tickets in as many states as is possible. He needs to feel the rush of wind and see the landscape speeding by as badly as he needs oxygen.
Brad's probably running, but not away, not in the sense that Ray has been accusing him of. Brad fully intends to go back, come home, rejoin the land of the living and become part of society again.
If he just happens to wind up on Nate's doorstep, lost and maybe a little pathetic, waiting for Nate to open the door (sleepy and tousled, but brightening up almost instantly when he sees Brad) before he does, well, everyone needs a respite at some point.
Title: Let Them
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Prompt: For @annundriel
Word Count: 107
Brad wasn't looking for Nate, but he's not surprised he found him.
Nate doesn't look all that surprised, either. "We've got to stop meeting like this," Nate says tiredly, but he doesn't stop Brad from moving into his space. "People will talk."
Brad looks over his shoulder, mostly for show, before shrugging. "Let them talk."
"You don't mean that," Nate murmurs, resting his forehead against Brad's shoulder, even as Brad fumbles to find Nate's skin under his MOPP suit.
"No," Brad says, "but right now, I don't fucking care."
Nate scoffs, snorting despite himself, and he can practically feel Brad's tired grin. "Yeah," Nate says, "me either."
Title: If Not Now
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 513
Brad finds Nate bracing himself against a crumbling wall, slumped forward and making soft sounds. Brad’s not an idiot, he knows what he’s stumbled upon, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t walk away from this. It’s easy enough to approach Nate, distracted as he is, and Brad says “Nate” softly before he reaches for him.
“Fuck, Brad,” Nate startles, but he can’t turn around, not when Brad holds his hips and drops his forehead against Nate’s shoulder.
“Don’t stop,” Brad mutters. There’s a tense moment of silence when Brad thinks Nate might pull away, but it passes, and Brad closes his eyes to hear the soft sound of skin on skin and Nate’s labored breathing. Brad can feel Nate’s shudders, can feel the way Nate arches back against him.
Nate moans “Brad” so quietly it’s almost lost to the wind. His breathing is harsher now, the movement of his hand quicker, and Brad wants to reach for him, wants to feel the slick slide of Nate in his hand and bring him off to completion. He wants to feel Nate sticky and wet over his fist, wants to hold him to the point of crushing him and maybe feel something besides the pain and disappointment this war has brought.
Instead, Brad curls his fingers tighter into Nate’s hips, idly wondering if he could still bruise Nate through his MOPP suit or if this entire encounter will blow over with the wind. Brad hopes it doesn’t. He hopes it does. Now isn’t the time or place for this, and he shouldn’t have come over here, pressed himself against Nate’s back. It’s too late to back off now though. Brad has to see it through.
“Come on, Nate,” Brad mutters, and he shifts enough to press a kiss against the side of Nate’s neck, the soft press of lips against dirty skin.
Nate comes with a shudder and another moan, hips snapping forward into his own fist before he presses back against Brad again. He wipes his hand clean on the crumbling clay and brick before he fumbles behind him to grab Brad’s wrist, pulling him in at the same moment Brad chooses to pull away. “Why now?” He asks, and his voice is shaky - from everything, his orgasm, the stress of the war, the fact he just let one of his TLs hold him and whisper to him through a combat jack.
And there are a million things Brad could say, “I wanted to”, “I want you”, “I didn’t mean to”, “If not now, when?” but he doesn’t voice any of them. Instead, he just drops his forehead to Nate’s shoulder again, just for a moment, before he steps away.
This time, Nate lets him. He turns to look at Brad, and there’s quiet understanding in his eyes, and it’s more than Brad could have asked for. “Yeah,” Nate says, licking his lips and letting Brad’s arm drop from his hand.
Just as surely as Nate understood Brad, Brad understands the silent “me too” and he flashes a tired smile despite himself.
Title: Realizations
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 172
Nate's busy rolling socks when it occurs to him that Brad's moved in. It's not that he hadn't noticed Brad's presence (how could he not for various reasons) but all the things never added up before.
Not the yellow toothbrush, or the chipped mug Brad got from Ray but will never admit is his favorite, the stack of DVDs and computer parts, Brad's laptop on the coffee table.
Brad himself, still curled up and sleeping in that stupid bed from Ikea that Nate's sisters picked for him. The bed Brad's been sleeping almost nightly for weeks now.
Nate smiles, dropping the socks back into the laundry basket and pads across the apartment to his -- no, their -- room and crawls back into bed.
Brad huffs at him tiredly when Nate nestles in close and even half asleep he wraps an arm around Nate, dragging and holding him close.
Nate sighs happily as he closes his eyes and kisses Brad's shoulder, before settling in. He's got nowhere else he wants to be.
Title: The Difference Between Knowing and Caring
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 359
They don’t have time for this, there are a million rules and regulations forbidding it, and they could get caught at any moment. Nate knows all of this, but he can’t bring himself to care, because Brad’s hand is shoved down the front of his pants, fingers curling around Nate’s shaft as he twists and tugs quickly, and Nate can’t bring himself to care.
He shoves Brad’s shirt up, shoving at his pants roughly until they’re down his thighs and Brad does the same to Nate before they slot together. The only thing holding Nate up against the dirty wall is Brad’s body pressed against him from shoulder to knees, their cocks both trapped between their stomachs and pressed together as they rut desperately, precum and sweat slicking their stomachs.
“Brad,” Nate groans, because he can’t be quiet - even though he knows he has to, because sound carries in the abandoned cigarette factory, even in the dark hole they’d stumbled upon accidentally on purpose - because he’s wanted this for longer than he knows how to admit and it’s been so long since he’s felt anyone else’s hand on him. Even Brad slotting a hand over his mouth isn’t enough to keep down his soft, desperate sounds, makes him want to moan more and Nate bangs his head on the wall, clenching his eyes shut and prays to whatever gods might be listening that they don’t get caught.
“You’re going to get us in trouble, sir,” Brad mutters, brushing his lips against Nate’s ear, his tongue flicking out to trace the ridge. He presses his cheek against Nate’s and groans, impossibly low, breath hot and wet against Nate’s skin.
Nate means to say “don’t call me ‘Sir’” but Brad’s hand is still clamped over his mouth, and he doesn’t think he could form the words if he wanted to. Instead, he digs his fingers in Brad’s ass, holding him impossibly close as his cock pulses between them, wetting both their stomachs and they smear the mess between them. He whimpers when Brad’s lips brush against his skin and all Nate can think is he doesn’t ever want to let go.
Title: Some Battles
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 97
Nate's fingers are curled around Brad's wrist when he wakes up.
They're not spooning, not technically, but Nate's arm is thrown across Brad's waist. Escaping would be a futile effort.
Brad's thumb traces the inside of Nate's wrist, and Nate's fingers spaz before tightening their grip.
It's weird to think the fingers bruising around his wrist are the same ones that trailed feather light across Brad's skin.
He knows if he really wanted to, he could free himself, but Nate has already wormed himself into Brad's bed and head and heart, and some battles aren't worth fighting.
Title: Snow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 47
Brad watches the snow drift lazily from the sky. It's really fucking cold in Baltimore. "I think I miss Iraq," he says idly.
Nate snorts, ducking his head to hide his smile. "Stop complaining," Nate says.
"Is that an order?" Brad asks innocently.
Nate just grins wider.
Title: Home
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 72
Brad likes waking up early in the morning.
He gets to watch the light filter in through the blinds and warm Nate's sleeping face.
He likes when he tries to roll away, and Nate throws an arm around him and Brad is too sluggish and sleep-warm to put up a fight.
Mostly, though, Brad likes seeing Nate's sleepy smile and the rough "hey".
He likes feeling like he's finally home, with Nate.
Title: SundayMorning
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Prompt: For ember_firedrake
Word Count: 365
The sun is barely up when Nate wakes up, and he can feel the early Sunday morning light on his back through the crack in the curtains. It’s not the only thing he can feel, by far. Brad’s hands are on Nate’s thighs, on his hips, his back, his shoulders, roaming and touching every inch of skin even as Brad ducks forward to kiss Nate’s shoulder.
And Nate would complain, because it’s barely after six on a Sunday and he could be sleeping, but Brad is warm and heavy and slow, his fingers skimming along Nate’s thighs and up his sides, the touch light and soothing. Brad urges Nate over onto his back easily, dropping to press kisses across Nate’s shoulders and up his neck and along his jaw.
It’s slow and lazy, and Nate drifts in and out between one soft touch and another, his eyes half lidded and low sounds escaping him every time Brad’s knuckles drag teasingly along his cock. It’s weird, because Nate knows if he was more awake Brad wouldn’t be taking the time to lick along his pulse point, trail his tongue between Nate’s ribs and dip it into his belly button. Brad wouldn’t be content just dragging his cock along Nate’s thigh, smearing precum along Nate’s skin, when they could be rutting together more frantically, desperately.
Nate doesn’t complain, because this is almost better. He fumbles to curl his fingers around Brad’s wrist, tugging tiredly until he can tangle their fingers together and smiles tiredly. He manages to catch an almost shy smile on Brad’s face before his eyes drift shut again, and Brad stops teasing and takes Nate in his other hand, squeezing once, tightly, before stroking in earnest.
Nate has to force himself to stay awake and coherent long enough to return the favor, fumbling half-heartedly for Brad until Brad takes pity on him and scoots up the bed, pressing himself against Nate at the same time he starts nibbling along Nate’s jaw. As soon as they’re sticky and sweaty and sated, Nate has every intention of dragging Brad back into the sheets and curling around him for more sleep, but for now, it can wait.
Title: Bite Me
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Theme: Kinky Wednesday
Prompt: ember_firedrake, Brad/Nate, biting
Word Count: 841
Originally Posted: 26 January 2011, here
It starts off easy, chaste almost, with Brad scraping his teeth over Nate’s jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin before placing a soft kiss. Here, he’s not allowed to leave marks, but Nate’s breath still catches in his throat with every drag of Brad’s lips and teeth and tongue. Nate makes soft, delicious noises that go straight to Brad’s groin and he’d never even consider passing up, possessive bite marks or not.
Nate’s lips are already bitten and bruised from kissing, slick from spit and red from Nate’s teeth digging in to fight back the noise. He whines when Brad noses his cheek, whimpers until Brad covers his mouth with his own and their tongues slick together, gliding with familiar ease. It’s not what Nate wants, but Brad is flying back to England tomorrow and he’s going to miss the feel of Nate’s mouth under his, so he takes a minute to just appreciate this. So that he can remember it better. Not that there is anything about Nate he could ever forget.
But Brad is leaving in a little less than ten hours, and as much as he’d like to pretend he has all the time in the world, he really doesn’t. He kisses down Nate’s neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow of Nate’s throat, but through here Brad doesn’t bite. Even just under Nate’s collar is forbidden to mark, their own personal no man’s land, but Brad still kisses every inch of skin that he can. If Brad had his way, Nate would be covered in bites and scratches and bruises, proof that he’s Brad’s. It’s not worth Nate’s wrath though, not with so little time to spare.
There’s already a red mark sucked and worried into Nate’s skin, just below his left nipple. Brad doesn’t remember if it was from last night or this morning, but it doesn’t matter, he just places a soft kiss to the mark before he moves to Nate’s other side to give him a matching bite.
Nate jerks up under the sharp bite of Brad’s teeth,oh Brad, fuck, Brad, yes, please, oh, oh, harders spilling from his lips. He curls his fingers into Brad’s shoulders, his nails short and clean, but long enough to hurt when he digs them in.
It’s only fair, Brad supposes, and he’ll always live to serve. He sucks at Nate’s skin, laving his tongue over the marks to chase away the pain. A bite deep enough to stay, to hurt a little, but not enough to draw blood. It isn’t about hurting Nate, after all, and they’ve both seen enough blood for this lifetime. Brad places a soft kiss over the mark before sliding farther down the bed, nipping and worrying at the skin of Nate’s stomach as he goes.
“God, Brad,” Nate moans. He squirms and arches into every scrape of teeth, gasps and moans and whimpers so prettily. His fingers curl and fist the sheets, tugging desperately, but Brad’s got a heavy hand on his stomach, and he can’t arch up under it. “Hurry up.”
There’s a bitter retort on Brad’s tongue about how this was Nate’s idea, but Brad bites it back - literally, really - by sinking his teeth into Nate’s thigh. He worries at the skin for only a moment, his tongue running along the ridges of his teeth, before he lets go and kisses it, too. He repeats the process over and over again, trailing marks down and back up the insides of Nate’s thighs until Nate is trembling with want and need.
“Please,” Nate says, his voice cracking.
Brad huffs against the inside of Nate’s thigh, resting his cheek against it before glancing up at Nate. He can see the quiet desperation, and as much as he wants to tease, to drag this out, he can only imagine the revenge Nate would enact. “Sir,” Brad says casually, digging his fingers into a fresh bite on Nate’s thigh. He waits until Nate jerks and shudders before settling back onto the mattress and licking a line up Nate’s cock.
Mouthing at the head, Brad takes a moment to savor the heady, heavy taste of it and the way Nate’s entire body tenses up in expectation. He tongues the slit, flicks at the ridge, before finally gripping the base and swallowing Nate down torturous inch by torturous inch.
Brad knows if he lets his tongue drag on the underside of Nate’s cock, if he digs his finger and nails into fresh bruises and bites and old ones, if he hums in the back of his throat, he could have Nate coming down his throat in a matter of moments, panting and writhing and screaming as he did so.
The other thing Brad knows though, is his plane leaves in a little under ten hours, and he plans on savoring every moment he has. If it means getting lockjaw and just brushing over bruises until Nate’s properly begging for it, well, it’s a course of action he’s willing to take.
Title: Holding Out and Holding On
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x (girl!)Nate Fick
Theme: Generation Kill Het Fest
Prompt: kari_hermione, Brad/Girl!Nate, Nate tells Brad she's pregnant
Word Count: 1,228
Originally Posted: 27 January 2011, here
Nate’s spent all week trying to figure out how to break the news to Brad.
She knows, on a very base and logical level, that Brad will probably nod and accept the news. At worst, he’ll go for a ride on his motorcycle and not come home for a few hours. She can’t imagine he’ll be entirely thrilled with the news, because this isn’t exactly something they’ve planned or talked about, but she knows him well enough to know he won’t absolutely blow up.
Still, Nate can’t help but imagine it’ll be so much more than that. Brad will yet at her, Brad will hit her, Brad will leave her. She knows that all of these reactions are ridiculous and over the top but she can’t help it. Brad’s a Marine, he has his whole life ahead of her, a career. Nate’s just the girl he’s living with in between tours.
Needless to say, Nate’s not expecting it when Brad drops a kiss to her shoulder while she’s cooking spaghetti before leaning against the counter. “My mother called,” he says simply.
“You answered?” Nate asks, blinking in confusion. Nine times out of ten, Brad lets his mother go to voicemail; not because he doesn’t love her, but because she calls so often. “What’d your nephews and or crazy uncle do this time?”
“My uncle wants to own an alpaca farm, but that isn’t the point,” Brad says, rolling his eyes before looking at Nate intently. “I didn’t answer. She left a bunch of voicemails until my curiosity won out.”
Nate pauses in stirring the noodles, frowning as she glances over at Brad. “Curiosity about what?” It’s not like Brad to outright avoid something, to beat around the bush in lieu of being straight with her. (She still remembers the conversation they had about him going to Iraq, and she never thought she could hate him as much as she loves him until that moment).
And Brad is hesitating, dropping his gaze to the floor before sweeping around the kitchen, eyes finally focusing on a picture of the two of them together on the fridge. “My mother wants to know if I plan on marrying you now that I’ve knocked you up.”
Oh, Nate thinks. It doesn’t surprise her as much as it should, that Brad’s mother knows and Nate instantly regrets introducing her youngest sister, Stephanie, to Brad’s youngest sister, Sarah. “Brad, I can explain…”
“There isn’t much to explain, unless it isn’t mine,” Brad says, shrugging. He attempts to leer at her, but it’s halfhearted. “I do know where babies come from.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Brad,” Nate snaps, “of course it’s yours. There hasn’t been anyone else for years and you know it.”
Nate can’t bring herself to yell at him when Brad relaxes visibly back into the counter. “You’re burning the sauce.”
“What?” Nate asks, blinking. She looks at the spaghetti sauce, and yeah, it is starting to burn a little bit if the smell is anything to go by. “Fuck,” she says, turning down the heat and stirring it. “I don’t think I’ve ever burned spaghetti before.”
“I’ve eaten worse,” Brad offers quietly.
Nate watches the sauce simmer for a moment, before turning her attention to the noodles. It’s time to strain them, she thinks. She focuses on that, intently, because she can’t look at Brad while she asks, “you’re okay with this?”
“It’s just spaghetti,” Brad replies.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Brad’s quiet for a long time, and Nate doesn’t press him. This is big news; she isn’t surprised he needs the time to think. Nate wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Brad’s known for a day or so already, and is only choosing to comment now that he’s had time to sort through his thoughts. “We should get married. You and the baby will get dependent benefits from the military.”
“I’m not marrying you just because I’m pregnant, Brad,” Nate says. She leaves the noodles in the sink to look at Brad, a determined look on his face. “I know you always get mad when Ray says you’ve got a white knight complex, but you have to realize to some degree, it’s true. I come from an open minded family. My parents are okay with this. I’m not dragging you into this just because I’m going to have a baby. You can still - “ Nate doesn’t know when she started crying, or why her throat is suddenly seizing up. She can’t bring herself to tell him he can still leave, that it isn’t too late.
Brad’s touch to Nate’s cheek is soft, stroking over her skin before catching her jaw and tilting her head up. He kisses her, soft and chaste, before resting their foreheads together. “If you don’t want to marry me because of the baby, fine,” he says, his voice a low rumble, breath warm on her face. “Marry me because I love you.”
Nate’s breath catches in her throat, and she fists the front of his shirt, the camouflage jacket rough against her hands. “Brad, you don’t have to - “
“Yes, I do,” Brad replies.
It’s irrational, the annoyance that washes through her then. Nate doesn’t want Brad to stay out of some sense of obligation, she wants Brad to stay because he wants to. She can’t force him into this, but she sure as hell can beg. “Brad - “
“If you won’t marry me, fine,” Brad snaps, stepping back from her and scowling. “But you’re not getting rid of me just so you can play the tragic role of - “
“I want a ring,” Nate interrupts him, wiping tears from her eyes and flashing a lopsided grin. “A big, shiny one. And a nice wedding, with tuxes and a white dress.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the outdated symbolism of ownership and rings,” Brad says, but there’s a tired smile on his face. He gestures vaguely at her stomach before adding, “and you’re obviously not a virgin.”
“Wedding dresses were white to show that a family had enough money to spend on a dress that a woman was only going to wear once,” Nate counters.
“I’m a Marine,” Brad replies. “You’re not getting a big, fat diamond and a half million dollar wedding.”
Nate thinks about it. “As long as no one is wearing camouflage, I’m okay with a small, private wedding. Our parents can argue the Jewish verse Protestant thing for us.”
Brad nods his head, making a face. He looks at Nate again, hesitantly placing his hand over her stomach. It feels huge and hot against her, even through her faded Dartmouth tee-shirt. “How far along are you?” he asks quietly.
Nate places her hand over Brad’s, holding him there, because she likes the idea of the connection they have; Brad, Nate and the baby. “About three months. It’ll be another couple of weeks before we’ll know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“I don’t care,” Brad says, low and open and honest. Brad smiles, almost shyly, and it warms Nate from the top of her head to her toes. “Either way, we’ll make do.”
It’s the unofficial Marine motto, and Nate would scoff at Brad for using it, but she gets the feeling it’s a phrase they’ll be using a lot in the future. “Yeah,” she says, “we will.”
Ray Person x Walt Hasser
Title: Peanut Butter Cookies
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Walt Hasser x Ray Person, Implied/Pre-Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Word Count: 323
Brad doesn't even blink when he stumbles into his kitchen and Walt is making sack lunches.
Ever since Ray invited himself to crash on Brad's couch, Walt has been a near constant presence as well.
Brad really doesn't actually mind that much, because Walt makes him breakfast and coffee in the mornings and sometimes packs a lunch for him. It's the one good thing about Ray living with him; Walt practically does too.
"Do you want peanut butter cookies or chocolate chip cookies?" Walt asks. His fingers are fighting the saran wrap, and he huffs indignantly.
Ray has a nauseatingly love-sick look on his face when he helps Walt stop the saran wrap from sticking to itself. "Chocolate chip," he says.
"Thanks," Walt says, beaming. "Brad?"
Brad looks over at them, staring blankly.
"Chocolate chip or peanut butter?" Walt asks, holding up two cookies. "I made you lunch."
Brad's first instinct is to say chocolate chip, he's hated peanut butter ever since Iraq, but he remembers Nate. "Both?" He tries.
"Sure." Walt has a knowing smile on his face and Brad scowls at him for it.
"How come Brad gets both?" Ray pouts.
"You're allergic to peanuts," Walt reminds him, rolling his eyes.
"Oh yeah."
Walt makes an amused, huffing sound, shaking his head and smiling. "You're lucky I love you."
"You'd be lost without me," Ray counters.
Walt finishes packing the lunch for Brad, passing it over wordlessly. He has the decency to wait for Brad to flee before he pins Ray to the counter and ravages him.
Ray never waits.
Needless to say, Brad likes Walt better.
Nate accepts the peanut butter cookies when Brad passes them to him. "Walt?" He asks.
Brad nods.
"Tell him thanks," Nate smiles.
Brad just nods his head again.
Nate sighs heavily. "It's a good thing you're such a great communicator."
The corner of Brad's lips twitch into a smile and Nate grins in response.
Walt Hasser x OFC
Title: Hot & Cold
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Walt Hasser x OFC
Theme: Generation Kill Het Fest
Prompt: anonymous, Walt/OFC with him eating her out, please. As messy and dirty as possible-that boy knows how to use his tongue
Word Count: 1,133
Originally Posted: 26 January 2011, here
Twenty minutes ago, it’d been freezing. Enough that every puff of breath rose in a cloud above him and the alcohol had willed him into pretending he was a dragon. She’d made fun of him the first time he mentioned it, and he pinched his tongue between his teeth as he pulled a face, rubbing his hands together just to keep his fingers from going numb. She’d looked at him then, expression thoughtful despite the strawberry daiquiris running through her system, and the rest is history.
Her thighs are hot on either side of his head, tensing and pressing in with every puff of breath and Walt’s got his fingers curled around one just so she doesn’t end up crushing his head. The soft cotton of her panties is a strange feeling, braceleted around his wrist so they doesn’t lose them - because Walt is nothing, if not a gentleman - and he’s got her jeans lumped haphazardly under his knees. Anything more than that is up to her to pull off, because Walt’s happy enough where he is, pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs and nipping at the silky skin teasingly.
The fingers of his free hands tease down her slit, his nails barely scraping over the sensitive skin. She makes a strangled sound, squirming to get closer, and Walt laughs softly before following the same trail with his tongue. She’s already slick and bitter to the touch, the taste, but he doesn’t mind, not really. He spreads his fingers into a ‘v’, opening her up for him, before he repeats the action. This time, she bucks into the touch, her thighs clenching on either side of him.
“Come on,” he mutters, and he means don’t crush me before I’ve started. The curl of his fingers holding her thigh at bay is tight, borderline painful, but she doesn’t complain so he doesn’t loosen his grip. He flicks his tongue out again, light, before pressing down a little bit harder. The taste of her is headier here, sticking to his tongue and burning at the back of his throat, but it’s been so long since he’s done this that Walt just inhales the heavy scent and moans.
She trembles above him, around him, soft moans and pleas escaping her lips in an endless chant. At any other time, Walt would think she’d put Ray to shame for breathless rambling, but now’s not the time to think of anyone other than himself and the girl he’s currently running his tongue over. Her fingers skim over the top of his head, nails raking as she tries to get a grip and force him down, and Walt laughs low and long because of it. “Fuck,” she curses.
Later, Walt thinks. He lets his tongue map out her sensitive skin here, purposely ignoring her clit as he traces the walls of her labia minora, his tongue sliding easily over her slick skin. He familiarizes himself with every soft fold as a means to draw out breathy moans, huffs out warm breaths over the wet mess just to feel her shudder. He takes his time, because he can, his tongue probing and lapping lazily until he can feel the lust sitting heavily in his own groin.
“Please,” she begs above him, her nails scratching at his scalp. “Please.”
Walt teases at her clit, ignoring the spit and slick dribbling down his chin and probably, eventually soaking into the collar of his shirt. He sets up an easy, alternating rhythm of licking and flicking, curling and pressing with his tongue, cataloguing which action elicits which sound, at which speed and angle. It’s all information he plans on using in a minute.
Observation is key to everything, hands down. Walt didn’t have to join the Marines to learn that, but the reiteration of the fact sure didn’t hurt any.
It’s easy enough to seal his lips around her clit, or, as much as they can be, sucking even as he grinds his tongue down against the swollen tissue. Just because he can, and his fingers are already in the way and a wet mess to begin with, Walt slips two fingers into her slick entrance easily and smirks when she bucks frantically.
She’s pleading and begging, almost ridiculously so, so Walt gives her what she wants. He fucks his fingers inside of her slowly, her trembling, tight walls clamping down around him as he continues to mouth at her clit, tongue flicking and curling depending on the noises she makes. Her thighs are quaking, trying to press in desperately, and it’s becoming an effort to keep her from killing him.
“Seriously,” he mutters against her slit, his lips dragging against her with every syllable. “Come on.” It’s as much of a plea to not be crushed as it is for her to come already, because he’s hard as a rock in his jeans and has no way to release the pressure. “Come on, come on, come on,” Walt moans impatiently, pausing in laving over her clit long enough to press his tongue inside of her alongside his fingers.
It’s a terrible angle, but she gasps and arches off the bed, and Walt knows an opening when he sees one. He pulls his fingers out in favor of fucking her with his tongue and as shallow as the motions are, she still bucks back against him. Elbowing her thigh to the side as far as he can, as gently as he can, Walt places his hand over her lower stomach to press her flat into the mattress. His thumb just barely reaches her clit, and he flicks at it aimlessly.
Walt presses his tongue to the slick wall of her entrance, sealing his mouth over her as best he can and attempting to suck again. He keeps sliding his tongue back and forth, swirling it around her hole, and it only takes a long, low moan vibrating from the back of Walt’s throat to set her off with a choked off scream and full body spasms. Walt works her through it as best he can, his thumb slipping and sliding as he attempts to rub her clit, his mouth pressed against her as he sucks as best he can.
When she melts back into the mattress, Walt sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, examining his handiwork. She’s a trembling mess, every soft brush of Walt’s fingers on her thighs causing her to spasm, and he lets go of her in favor of pressing the heel of his palm against his cock and rubbing slowly.
And because Walt’s a gentleman, he’ll give her a moment to catch her breath again, but as far as he’s concerned, they’re far from being finished.