GK, Come what may, 1/1, NC17, Nate/Walt, Nate/Walt/Brad, 3,840
Title: Come what may
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Nate Fick x Walt Hasser, Nate Fick x Walt Hasser x Brad Colbert (implied Nate Fick x Godfather and Walt Hasser x Ray Person)
Warning(s): AU (vampires), attempted suicide (vampire starving itself), barebacking, begging, biting, blood play (non-graphic/feeding), character death (non-specific, minor characters), double penetration, dub-con (glamor), implied non-con (single mention, Nate/Godfather), multiple orgasms, oral, partner sharing, spanking, threesome, various unspecified OMCs and OFCs
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for the Generation Kill Anonymous Kink Meme for the prompt: Vampire!Nate/Vampire!Walt/OMC, roleplay/au (misc), bloodplay, Nate and Walt like to play the sweet, innocent couple to pick up men who think they’ll get to order two pretty boys around. But in reality Nate and Walt use and play with the men they pick up before draining them. (Bonus points for: teasing, forced orgasm, and begging.)
Word Count: 3,840
Notes: I never even told kari_hermione I wrote this and she figured it out on her own. Clearly, I’m too obvious.
Summary: Nate and Walt have a foolproof plan for picking up their prey.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This was written purely for fun, based off of the fictionalized portrayal of the actual people. No disrespect or harm was intended.
Nate’s the one who suggested it first, who came up with the idea.
Well, maybe.
If it was Walt who had suggested it, it would have had to been during his bitter and suicidal phase, but neither of them likes to remember those years so long ago.
It’s easier to just give Nate the credit. Nate doesn’t mind and Walt just wants to make him happy.
&
The thing is, their plan is really fucking flawless, no matter who came up with it. It works every time and that’s really what’s important, right?
Right.
&
Nate never lets Walt out of his sight, especially not when they’re hunting. It’s too risky, too dangerous, especially in big cities where there’s the chance someone might know what they are.
(Fun fact of the day for anyone who cares: more vampires die in the country than in the city.
It probably has something to do with too many fucking rednecks with more guns than brains, but the point is the same. If you’re a creature of the night, stick to the city. You’re more likely to get caught, but it’s easier to get away when no one has a means to kill you.)
They’ve been together for almost fifty years, but nothing makes Nate’s undead heart pound in his chest quite like the fear of losing Walt does. He knows, rationally, that Walt can take care of himself; he was a Marine before he was turned and abandoned. Nate is far older and wiser, he knows better, but he can’t help it.
Still, there’s no one half as good as Walt when it comes to laying the trap. He’s not picky when it comes to who they snare, not really, but Walt knows Nate’s type and Walt will always try his best to find someone who fits the criteria.
Walt is generous like that.
He’s also one of the only vampires Nate has ever met that has never had to glamour someone into taking their pants off or letting them drink from him. Walt’s just that kind of sweet and flawless, even in death.
&
Nate has a type. It’s not even a physical thing, really, but the way people hold themselves. He likes men and women when they’re confident, or at least know how to fake it. He likes people who take initiative.
If Nate’s really in a mood, and sometimes he is, he likes his men tall, lean and muscular, with soft eyes. He’s less particular when it comes to women, physically, but Nate loves blue eyes.
Walt has blue eyes.
Nate isn’t sure if he loves Walt because Walt has them, or if he loves them because they remind him of Walt. It’s a question for the ages.
&
Walt has a type by not having a type.
Which is to say that Walt was in love, once upon a time.
It was a wiry motherfucker, if Nate remembers correctly (and he most definitely does because one doesn’t forget a story like the one Walt told anytime soon), with dark hair and dark eyes, dimples and a quick wit.
It’s exactly the kind of guy Walt refuses to hook but he won’t admit it. Almost sixty years, and it still kills Walt to be reminded of his Maker.
Nate would call Walt pathetic, but he loves Walt. He thinks he loves Walt more than Walt loves him, but that’s okay, because Nate loves enough for the both of them.
&
The hook always goes something like this:
Walt and Nate enter the club or bar, fuck, they’ve scored on a mini-golf course once (there’s really no place sacred, not even hallowed ground);
someone offers to buy one or both of them a drink. If it’s the former, they make it very clear that they’re together, but, they’re willing to share, if you’re into that;
they talk about whatever. Anything and everything is fair game and they try to make their prey comfortable, set them at ease;
the night drags on. Oh, look at the time! and slightly more subtle but still effectives we’re going to fuck each other’s brains out, you’re welcome to join us;
the next part either goes two ways: a short walk to their prey’s room of choice that has at least one interlude of Walt or Nate going down on them in an ally or a cab ride, where Nate and Walt tip the cabbie to look the other way when they show their prey just what their getting into tonight;
profit.
&
If Nate was feeling poetic, he’d compare it to dance. There’s a lazy familiarity between Walt and himself, in the way they both know how to move, how the other is going to move, without speaking a single word. They work beautifully together, always anticipating, always adapting.
It does not matter who is on the receiving end, they always love every minute of Nate and Walt’s attentions.
Until they don’t anymore, of course, but then Walt has never been a fan of playing with his food after they’ve reached the point when they’ll sink their teeth in and drain their prey dry.
&
People love to make Nate beg. It has to do with his height, maybe, and the way he can control the entire room with a single look. It gets people’s gears going, starts things off quick and dirty. Nate doesn’t mind begging, not when it’s a game, and he is very, very good at it.
&
Walt finds Nate a boy, tall and beautiful, composed and completely self-aware. He doesn’t even know he wants them yet, and that’s the best part. He lets Walt buy him a drink, watching in mild interest when Walt all but fellates the neck of his own bottle.
His name is Brad. He smells like sunshine and the ocean and Walt wants to sink his teeth into every inch of his body. Brad’s suspicious when Nate slides in, and he catches the look Walt and Nate share, the way Nate strokes his fingers over Walt’s thigh. Suddenly, they don’t have to say anything. Their prey is in.
He covers his tab, waiting for Nate to cover his and Walt’s, and then they’re home free. He’s exactly the kind of game Walt likes, easy enough to hook and he knows exactly what he wants out of them, out of this night.
&
There was a few months, years and years ago, when Walt refused to drink. He went pale and frail, his skin shriveling like antiqued paper and he didn’t even have the strength to open his eyes.
Walt asked Nate to kill him, begged it.
Nate wouldn’t do it; he couldn’t live in a world without Walt.
Eventually, the phase passed and Walt let Nate feed him, spoonful after spoonful of blood. It took weeks to get him back on his feet, and after Walt was healthy enough to move on his own, he gorged himself on an entire family. Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, even the frail little grandmother. Walt bled nine of them dry in one night while Nate just watched him do it.
Sometimes, Nate catches a look on Walt’s face, and he wonders if Walt ever thinks about those times, if he ever considers giving up on feeding again. The answer has always been ‘no’ but Nate is pretty sure it’s just a matter of time before that changes.
&
Walt is a stubborn motherfucker, okay? And sometimes he needs to punished. Most of the time, he even enjoys it.
&
Brad’s hand is huge against Walt’s ass and he rains down blows relentlessly. He doesn’t stop until long after Walt’s ass has gone red, welts forming so prettily against his skin. Brad doesn’t apologize and Walt certainly doesn’t want him to.
Walt doesn’t beg, not like Nate. He’s never been quite as comfortable with the pleases and mores like Nate is, can’t ask to suck cock or get fucked hard without stuttering, embarrassed. Walt doesn’t need words though, not when he can just press his ass back for more encouragingly, fingers fisted in the sheets and tongue pinched between his teeth.
Walt doesn’t have to ask, but Brad’s smart enough to figure it out. He runs his fingers over the marks he’s left on Walt’s ass, the touch teasing and soft, before he brings his hand down again and again.
&
Being undead is great for Nate and Walt’s sex life. They don’t need to breathe. They’ve had practice with everything. They can heal from any hurt. Most importantly, they’re pretty much amoral. Really, if it sets their prey at ease, Nate and Walt will do pretty much anything.
&
Once upon a time, when Walt was still a wildling and Nate was starting to hate the Americas, there existed a bar. It burned down in the seventies, in a fire Nate may or may not have had anything to do with, but at the time, it was fresh.
Walt was a little beast back then. He could barely control his hunger long enough to drag his prey to a dark corner before he sank his teeth in and he was a complete mess about it. The clothes he was wearing were weeks old and caked in mud and blood. It was amazing he could get anyone alone at all.
Really, Nate was doing everyone a favor by taking Walt under his wing at the time.
Even, if at said point in time, Walt’s first reaction to seeing Nate was to try and sink his fangs into Nate’s arm, tugging with his teeth and looking so goddamn confused when Nate didn’t give, when his blood didn’t taste bitter sweet under his tongue.
That was the first and only time Walt had ever looked at Nate like Nate personally betrayed him. Like by not being edible, Nate was the worst person in the world. It was laughable at the time but now it makes Nate’s heart ache.
Nate has never forgotten that expression on Walt’s face, and he never intends to.
&
Walt is kind of a comeslut, not that he’ll ever admit it. He vastly prefers barebacking to condoms and he’ll take a cock in his mouth over his ass, any day. He sucks like he was born to do it, wicked with his tongue, and he’ll swallow every drop.
One of Nate’s favorite things is the exact moment when a man realizes this, too. The knowledge that Walt will suck your life out through your dick, moaning like a cheap whore, all but begging for the chance to taste come, to swallow it down, is a beautiful thing.
Walt’s shameless about it, too. He doesn’t mind the hair pulling and face fucking, as long as he gets what he wants in the end. As previously stated, Walt is kind of generous like that.
&
Nate is kind of picky when it comes to bottoming. He prefers to top, but not because of macho bullshit or whatever. He just really fucking loves the tight, hot feeling of someone’s ass around his dick (preferably Walt’s), the way they clench and groan, pushing back for more.
Very rarely does Nate bottom for Walt, but very rarely does Walt want Nate to bottom.
Walt’s not a bottom like it’s a lifestyle, there’s just a dynamic to their relationship that’s brought out in such obvious spades when Walt is on his knees taking it from Nate. They’re equals when it comes to decisions, on where to go and who to fuck, but Nate will always be Walt’s senior and it will always be Nate’s job to take care of him, coddle him when he’s down and force feed him blood until he’s well again. Walt needs that distinction more than Nate does, but then again, Walt needs to be bossed around, told what to do. It’s probably why he did so well as a Marine.
It’s another reason why their plan is so brilliant; there are plenty of arrogant assholes out there who get off on ordering around two beautiful young men such as themselves.
&
Walt doesn’t like to be on top, not really. He loves the part where he gets to balance himself with hands on Nate’s chest and bounce up and down on Nate’s dick like a paddle ball, always coming back down hard. He knows how to pivot, how to roll his hips to make sure Nate’s getting the most out of this, how to get Nate’s cock to brush against his prostate on every inward slide.
It’s the part where he’s completely exposed that Walt hates, especially if someone else is in the room. He hates being so completely lost in his pleasure, in Nate’s, that he loses track of what’s behind his back. Walt’s been betrayed too many times to let himself go in fear that the hand jacking off a cock to the show he’s putting on will somehow grab a stake instead and run it through his heart.
Nate normally doesn’t ask Walt to do it, either, but even without knowing Brad, Nate knows exactly the kind of person Brad is. It isn’t that he trusts the man to keep from trying to hurt Walt, it’s just that Brad doesn’t have it in him. He may be a warrior, but he’s an honorable one. At least, as honorable as you can be in this day and age.
&
Brad’s a rare breed for various reasons. The thing that probably saves his life, not that he knows it, is when presented with the opportunity to bury his cock in Walt’s tight ass, to rub his dick against Nate’s as they fuck him together, Brad hesitates.
Not out of embarrassment or fear, or the need to grab the base of his cock and yank his balls to keep from coming at the sheer hotness of the thought.
No.
Brad hesitates because he’s scared of hurting Walt.
Spanking him until his ass turned red and was throbbing in time with his still beating, undead heart is apparently not nearly the same thing to Brad as forcing his cock inside of him and tearing Walt open from the base of his spine and up. Neither Nate or Walt can work out quite how that works, but Brad won’t do it.
Not even when Walt says it’s okay, that he wants this, too.
Brad steadfastly refuses to do anything that might draw blood. There’s humor in that he can’t see, but he’s made up his mind and they won’t force him, not yet.
&
Brad comes all over his fingers when Walt cries out his own orgasm, still riding Nate’s cock like there is no tomorrow. He lets Walt lick them clean dazedly, watching Nate finger his own come in Walt’s ass and before Brad’s entirely sure what’s going on, he’s on his back and Walt is sucking his dick like it’s his one purpose in life.
Brad doesn’t object.
&
The biggest difference between Walt and Nate is that Walt has never, ever been accused of being a tease.
&
There are eight to ten pints of blood in the human body.
You lose consciousness after you lose about a third of it.
When you’ve lost about forty percent, you might as well already be dead.
&
Walt’s not the same wildling that tried to tear Nate’s arm off in his desperation for blood. He can control himself better now. He knows how to drink without spilling a drop and he knows how to glamour away the pain.
For all the chomping and gnawing and tearing he did in the beginning, comparatively, Walt is practically a gentleman these days.
&
Top three reasons Walt will always be a better person than everyone else in the universe, Nate included, despite the pact he is a serial killing, blood sucking vampire;
1. Walt doesn’t like to hurt people.
Weird, huh? But then again, Walt didn’t choose this unlife and he was left alone after he was given it. He didn’t know what he was doing at the time, didn’t know how to take away the pain.
2. Walt flat-out refuses to drain a child.
Assuming children are every person under the age of sixteen. Walt also is uncomfortable fucking anyone under the legal drinking age, even though he himself doesn’t look a day over fifteen most of the time.
3. Walt believes in doing good things for the sake of doing good things or because it’s right, without expecting rewards or praise.
Nate has literally seen Walt rescue a cat from a tree. Walt always gives his spare change to charity, and even though he’s undead, he believes in equal rights for everyone.
&
There are exceptions, of course, for the years they don’t talk about, when Walt wanted everyone to suffer as much as he did and he couldn’t control himself.
Walt still hasn’t forgiven himself for those days, and Nate doesn’t think he ever will.
&
Basically, what it comes down to is this: Nate has the best boyfriend ever and everyone else’s sucks - and not in the fun way that involves fangs and blood.
&
All nights must come to an end. As much as Walt and Nate would love to spend their entire lives fucking, tangled up in each other’s arms and rutting together until they came, again and again, they cannot. They cannot and they have other needs to attend to.
Brad has done well for himself, coming down Walt’s throat with a bitten off groan, his second orgasm of the night so soon after the first. He lets Nate try, for a while, later, to get him hard again so he can fuck Nate, just bend him over and pound into him until they’re both screaming, but even with the devil’s tongue whispering in Brad’s ear to help urge him along for a third round, it’s a feeble attempt at best.
Brad is, after all, only human.
&
There are some vampires that maintain every blood type has a distinctive taste, and you can tell just by sipping at it what someone’s is.
Nate isn’t sure he believes this, has sucked the blood of hundreds of thousands of humans in his unlifetime, and he’s never been able to tell them apart. There are certain things that enrich blood, sure, like red wine or sweet melons, greasy steaks or salty pretzels, but Nate can’t distinguish between A and B, positive or negative. It all tastes the same to him.
Still, it’s fun to guess, and he’s got statistics in his favor in keeping him always right on the first go.
Walt plays along sometimes. He’s always been good about humoring Nate like that.
&
Brad is surprisingly difficult to pin down, for a human. Even in his post coital state, he recognizes the change in their posture, their intent, and he fights it off as long as he can.
It takes both Nate and Walt to pin Brad to the bed.
When Walt sinks his teeth into Brad’s throat to suck him dry, Brad grunts in pain against the hand Nate has covering his mouth, but he doesn’t scream or cry. His eyes are a little glazed, a little unfocused, but Brad is a warrior, the man with the heart and soul of ice.
Brad resists Nate’s glamor for the longest time, but eventually, he goes slack. They always do.
&
When it comes to blood sucking, Walt is all for the classics. He likes to sink his fangs in a pretty throat and suck the blood from the body like the greedy little monster he is.
Nate prefers the femoral artery, partly because of its location near the groin and partly because he doesn’t have to work as hard since the blood flows more freely.
&
Nate can’t remember how old he was when he was turned, or even how long ago it was. The thing he remembers most clearly though, is the rush of fear in his system and the pounding in his heart the first time he was bitten and the rush of power when he felt at the first taste of his Maker’s blood.
Nate’s Maker didn’t abandon him, didn’t forget about him like Walt’s did to him, but sometimes Nate wishes he had. Nate’s Maker is the only person who can control him, who can strip him of his power and order him around. Nate’s Maker is the only one who ever managed to force Nate to his knees and took what he wanted and gave nothing in return.
Nate always tells himself if he ever sees his Maker again, he’ll kill him, but somehow, the bond between them and the blood pumping through Nate’s system keeps him from doing it every time.
&
They don’t drink much from Brad.
Nate has Walt sit back after the first few desperate pulls and Nate takes his place. He drinks even less than Walt did, and it’s not nearly enough to kill Brad.
Nate pricks his thumb and heals the wounds on Brad’s neck with his own blood. It’s not enough to bind them together for eternity, or at least all of Brad’s lifetime, but it’s enough to leave Brad’s skin as unblemished as it was in the beginning.
They leave him there, glamored on the bed. It won’t last long, not without Walt or Nate there to keep his eyes focused, to keep him calm and relaxed, but it gives them both enough time to get dressed and slip out into the cool night air.
&
Walt doesn’t ask why they don’t kill Brad, even though it’s obviously killing him not to know. He watches Nate carefully, worried that something is wrong with his best friend and lover, his companion in the night and the body that presses against his during the day, but he doesn’t speak.
When they get home, tucked up in their bed of more blankets and pillows then anyone could possibly need, Nate finally relaxes. If he’s entirely honest, he regrets not killing Brad, because he’s hungry. Yet somehow, he’s glad he didn’t.
The world could use more people like Bradley Colbert, if it plans on making it into the next millennium as well.
&
Nate can feel the sun breaking on the horizon, the same way he can feel hallowed ground and the presence of another of the undead, even if he cannot see it.
He pulls Walt to him and wraps himself around Walt tight, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.
It doesn’t take long for Walt to respond, the stubborn confusion and unhappiness at being hungry melting away into something softer, not at all like they kisses they shared while Brad beat off to the sight of them.
It’s like that they fall asleep, trading lazy kisses and smiling against each other’s mouth.
Really, there is no better way to go about it.
&
Everything is going to be okay.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Nate Fick x Walt Hasser, Nate Fick x Walt Hasser x Brad Colbert (implied Nate Fick x Godfather and Walt Hasser x Ray Person)
Warning(s): AU (vampires), attempted suicide (vampire starving itself), barebacking, begging, biting, blood play (non-graphic/feeding), character death (non-specific, minor characters), double penetration, dub-con (glamor), implied non-con (single mention, Nate/Godfather), multiple orgasms, oral, partner sharing, spanking, threesome, various unspecified OMCs and OFCs
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for the Generation Kill Anonymous Kink Meme for the prompt: Vampire!Nate/Vampire!Walt/OMC, roleplay/au (misc), bloodplay, Nate and Walt like to play the sweet, innocent couple to pick up men who think they’ll get to order two pretty boys around. But in reality Nate and Walt use and play with the men they pick up before draining them. (Bonus points for: teasing, forced orgasm, and begging.)
Word Count: 3,840
Notes: I never even told kari_hermione I wrote this and she figured it out on her own. Clearly, I’m too obvious.
Summary: Nate and Walt have a foolproof plan for picking up their prey.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This was written purely for fun, based off of the fictionalized portrayal of the actual people. No disrespect or harm was intended.
Nate’s the one who suggested it first, who came up with the idea.
Well, maybe.
If it was Walt who had suggested it, it would have had to been during his bitter and suicidal phase, but neither of them likes to remember those years so long ago.
It’s easier to just give Nate the credit. Nate doesn’t mind and Walt just wants to make him happy.
&
The thing is, their plan is really fucking flawless, no matter who came up with it. It works every time and that’s really what’s important, right?
Right.
&
Nate never lets Walt out of his sight, especially not when they’re hunting. It’s too risky, too dangerous, especially in big cities where there’s the chance someone might know what they are.
(Fun fact of the day for anyone who cares: more vampires die in the country than in the city.
It probably has something to do with too many fucking rednecks with more guns than brains, but the point is the same. If you’re a creature of the night, stick to the city. You’re more likely to get caught, but it’s easier to get away when no one has a means to kill you.)
They’ve been together for almost fifty years, but nothing makes Nate’s undead heart pound in his chest quite like the fear of losing Walt does. He knows, rationally, that Walt can take care of himself; he was a Marine before he was turned and abandoned. Nate is far older and wiser, he knows better, but he can’t help it.
Still, there’s no one half as good as Walt when it comes to laying the trap. He’s not picky when it comes to who they snare, not really, but Walt knows Nate’s type and Walt will always try his best to find someone who fits the criteria.
Walt is generous like that.
He’s also one of the only vampires Nate has ever met that has never had to glamour someone into taking their pants off or letting them drink from him. Walt’s just that kind of sweet and flawless, even in death.
&
Nate has a type. It’s not even a physical thing, really, but the way people hold themselves. He likes men and women when they’re confident, or at least know how to fake it. He likes people who take initiative.
If Nate’s really in a mood, and sometimes he is, he likes his men tall, lean and muscular, with soft eyes. He’s less particular when it comes to women, physically, but Nate loves blue eyes.
Walt has blue eyes.
Nate isn’t sure if he loves Walt because Walt has them, or if he loves them because they remind him of Walt. It’s a question for the ages.
&
Walt has a type by not having a type.
Which is to say that Walt was in love, once upon a time.
It was a wiry motherfucker, if Nate remembers correctly (and he most definitely does because one doesn’t forget a story like the one Walt told anytime soon), with dark hair and dark eyes, dimples and a quick wit.
It’s exactly the kind of guy Walt refuses to hook but he won’t admit it. Almost sixty years, and it still kills Walt to be reminded of his Maker.
Nate would call Walt pathetic, but he loves Walt. He thinks he loves Walt more than Walt loves him, but that’s okay, because Nate loves enough for the both of them.
&
The hook always goes something like this:
Walt and Nate enter the club or bar, fuck, they’ve scored on a mini-golf course once (there’s really no place sacred, not even hallowed ground);
someone offers to buy one or both of them a drink. If it’s the former, they make it very clear that they’re together, but, they’re willing to share, if you’re into that;
they talk about whatever. Anything and everything is fair game and they try to make their prey comfortable, set them at ease;
the night drags on. Oh, look at the time! and slightly more subtle but still effectives we’re going to fuck each other’s brains out, you’re welcome to join us;
the next part either goes two ways: a short walk to their prey’s room of choice that has at least one interlude of Walt or Nate going down on them in an ally or a cab ride, where Nate and Walt tip the cabbie to look the other way when they show their prey just what their getting into tonight;
profit.
&
If Nate was feeling poetic, he’d compare it to dance. There’s a lazy familiarity between Walt and himself, in the way they both know how to move, how the other is going to move, without speaking a single word. They work beautifully together, always anticipating, always adapting.
It does not matter who is on the receiving end, they always love every minute of Nate and Walt’s attentions.
Until they don’t anymore, of course, but then Walt has never been a fan of playing with his food after they’ve reached the point when they’ll sink their teeth in and drain their prey dry.
&
People love to make Nate beg. It has to do with his height, maybe, and the way he can control the entire room with a single look. It gets people’s gears going, starts things off quick and dirty. Nate doesn’t mind begging, not when it’s a game, and he is very, very good at it.
&
Walt finds Nate a boy, tall and beautiful, composed and completely self-aware. He doesn’t even know he wants them yet, and that’s the best part. He lets Walt buy him a drink, watching in mild interest when Walt all but fellates the neck of his own bottle.
His name is Brad. He smells like sunshine and the ocean and Walt wants to sink his teeth into every inch of his body. Brad’s suspicious when Nate slides in, and he catches the look Walt and Nate share, the way Nate strokes his fingers over Walt’s thigh. Suddenly, they don’t have to say anything. Their prey is in.
He covers his tab, waiting for Nate to cover his and Walt’s, and then they’re home free. He’s exactly the kind of game Walt likes, easy enough to hook and he knows exactly what he wants out of them, out of this night.
&
There was a few months, years and years ago, when Walt refused to drink. He went pale and frail, his skin shriveling like antiqued paper and he didn’t even have the strength to open his eyes.
Walt asked Nate to kill him, begged it.
Nate wouldn’t do it; he couldn’t live in a world without Walt.
Eventually, the phase passed and Walt let Nate feed him, spoonful after spoonful of blood. It took weeks to get him back on his feet, and after Walt was healthy enough to move on his own, he gorged himself on an entire family. Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, even the frail little grandmother. Walt bled nine of them dry in one night while Nate just watched him do it.
Sometimes, Nate catches a look on Walt’s face, and he wonders if Walt ever thinks about those times, if he ever considers giving up on feeding again. The answer has always been ‘no’ but Nate is pretty sure it’s just a matter of time before that changes.
&
Walt is a stubborn motherfucker, okay? And sometimes he needs to punished. Most of the time, he even enjoys it.
&
Brad’s hand is huge against Walt’s ass and he rains down blows relentlessly. He doesn’t stop until long after Walt’s ass has gone red, welts forming so prettily against his skin. Brad doesn’t apologize and Walt certainly doesn’t want him to.
Walt doesn’t beg, not like Nate. He’s never been quite as comfortable with the pleases and mores like Nate is, can’t ask to suck cock or get fucked hard without stuttering, embarrassed. Walt doesn’t need words though, not when he can just press his ass back for more encouragingly, fingers fisted in the sheets and tongue pinched between his teeth.
Walt doesn’t have to ask, but Brad’s smart enough to figure it out. He runs his fingers over the marks he’s left on Walt’s ass, the touch teasing and soft, before he brings his hand down again and again.
&
Being undead is great for Nate and Walt’s sex life. They don’t need to breathe. They’ve had practice with everything. They can heal from any hurt. Most importantly, they’re pretty much amoral. Really, if it sets their prey at ease, Nate and Walt will do pretty much anything.
&
Once upon a time, when Walt was still a wildling and Nate was starting to hate the Americas, there existed a bar. It burned down in the seventies, in a fire Nate may or may not have had anything to do with, but at the time, it was fresh.
Walt was a little beast back then. He could barely control his hunger long enough to drag his prey to a dark corner before he sank his teeth in and he was a complete mess about it. The clothes he was wearing were weeks old and caked in mud and blood. It was amazing he could get anyone alone at all.
Really, Nate was doing everyone a favor by taking Walt under his wing at the time.
Even, if at said point in time, Walt’s first reaction to seeing Nate was to try and sink his fangs into Nate’s arm, tugging with his teeth and looking so goddamn confused when Nate didn’t give, when his blood didn’t taste bitter sweet under his tongue.
That was the first and only time Walt had ever looked at Nate like Nate personally betrayed him. Like by not being edible, Nate was the worst person in the world. It was laughable at the time but now it makes Nate’s heart ache.
Nate has never forgotten that expression on Walt’s face, and he never intends to.
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Walt is kind of a comeslut, not that he’ll ever admit it. He vastly prefers barebacking to condoms and he’ll take a cock in his mouth over his ass, any day. He sucks like he was born to do it, wicked with his tongue, and he’ll swallow every drop.
One of Nate’s favorite things is the exact moment when a man realizes this, too. The knowledge that Walt will suck your life out through your dick, moaning like a cheap whore, all but begging for the chance to taste come, to swallow it down, is a beautiful thing.
Walt’s shameless about it, too. He doesn’t mind the hair pulling and face fucking, as long as he gets what he wants in the end. As previously stated, Walt is kind of generous like that.
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Nate is kind of picky when it comes to bottoming. He prefers to top, but not because of macho bullshit or whatever. He just really fucking loves the tight, hot feeling of someone’s ass around his dick (preferably Walt’s), the way they clench and groan, pushing back for more.
Very rarely does Nate bottom for Walt, but very rarely does Walt want Nate to bottom.
Walt’s not a bottom like it’s a lifestyle, there’s just a dynamic to their relationship that’s brought out in such obvious spades when Walt is on his knees taking it from Nate. They’re equals when it comes to decisions, on where to go and who to fuck, but Nate will always be Walt’s senior and it will always be Nate’s job to take care of him, coddle him when he’s down and force feed him blood until he’s well again. Walt needs that distinction more than Nate does, but then again, Walt needs to be bossed around, told what to do. It’s probably why he did so well as a Marine.
It’s another reason why their plan is so brilliant; there are plenty of arrogant assholes out there who get off on ordering around two beautiful young men such as themselves.
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Walt doesn’t like to be on top, not really. He loves the part where he gets to balance himself with hands on Nate’s chest and bounce up and down on Nate’s dick like a paddle ball, always coming back down hard. He knows how to pivot, how to roll his hips to make sure Nate’s getting the most out of this, how to get Nate’s cock to brush against his prostate on every inward slide.
It’s the part where he’s completely exposed that Walt hates, especially if someone else is in the room. He hates being so completely lost in his pleasure, in Nate’s, that he loses track of what’s behind his back. Walt’s been betrayed too many times to let himself go in fear that the hand jacking off a cock to the show he’s putting on will somehow grab a stake instead and run it through his heart.
Nate normally doesn’t ask Walt to do it, either, but even without knowing Brad, Nate knows exactly the kind of person Brad is. It isn’t that he trusts the man to keep from trying to hurt Walt, it’s just that Brad doesn’t have it in him. He may be a warrior, but he’s an honorable one. At least, as honorable as you can be in this day and age.
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Brad’s a rare breed for various reasons. The thing that probably saves his life, not that he knows it, is when presented with the opportunity to bury his cock in Walt’s tight ass, to rub his dick against Nate’s as they fuck him together, Brad hesitates.
Not out of embarrassment or fear, or the need to grab the base of his cock and yank his balls to keep from coming at the sheer hotness of the thought.
No.
Brad hesitates because he’s scared of hurting Walt.
Spanking him until his ass turned red and was throbbing in time with his still beating, undead heart is apparently not nearly the same thing to Brad as forcing his cock inside of him and tearing Walt open from the base of his spine and up. Neither Nate or Walt can work out quite how that works, but Brad won’t do it.
Not even when Walt says it’s okay, that he wants this, too.
Brad steadfastly refuses to do anything that might draw blood. There’s humor in that he can’t see, but he’s made up his mind and they won’t force him, not yet.
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Brad comes all over his fingers when Walt cries out his own orgasm, still riding Nate’s cock like there is no tomorrow. He lets Walt lick them clean dazedly, watching Nate finger his own come in Walt’s ass and before Brad’s entirely sure what’s going on, he’s on his back and Walt is sucking his dick like it’s his one purpose in life.
Brad doesn’t object.
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The biggest difference between Walt and Nate is that Walt has never, ever been accused of being a tease.
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There are eight to ten pints of blood in the human body.
You lose consciousness after you lose about a third of it.
When you’ve lost about forty percent, you might as well already be dead.
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Walt’s not the same wildling that tried to tear Nate’s arm off in his desperation for blood. He can control himself better now. He knows how to drink without spilling a drop and he knows how to glamour away the pain.
For all the chomping and gnawing and tearing he did in the beginning, comparatively, Walt is practically a gentleman these days.
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Top three reasons Walt will always be a better person than everyone else in the universe, Nate included, despite the pact he is a serial killing, blood sucking vampire;
1. Walt doesn’t like to hurt people.
Weird, huh? But then again, Walt didn’t choose this unlife and he was left alone after he was given it. He didn’t know what he was doing at the time, didn’t know how to take away the pain.
2. Walt flat-out refuses to drain a child.
Assuming children are every person under the age of sixteen. Walt also is uncomfortable fucking anyone under the legal drinking age, even though he himself doesn’t look a day over fifteen most of the time.
3. Walt believes in doing good things for the sake of doing good things or because it’s right, without expecting rewards or praise.
Nate has literally seen Walt rescue a cat from a tree. Walt always gives his spare change to charity, and even though he’s undead, he believes in equal rights for everyone.
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There are exceptions, of course, for the years they don’t talk about, when Walt wanted everyone to suffer as much as he did and he couldn’t control himself.
Walt still hasn’t forgiven himself for those days, and Nate doesn’t think he ever will.
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Basically, what it comes down to is this: Nate has the best boyfriend ever and everyone else’s sucks - and not in the fun way that involves fangs and blood.
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All nights must come to an end. As much as Walt and Nate would love to spend their entire lives fucking, tangled up in each other’s arms and rutting together until they came, again and again, they cannot. They cannot and they have other needs to attend to.
Brad has done well for himself, coming down Walt’s throat with a bitten off groan, his second orgasm of the night so soon after the first. He lets Nate try, for a while, later, to get him hard again so he can fuck Nate, just bend him over and pound into him until they’re both screaming, but even with the devil’s tongue whispering in Brad’s ear to help urge him along for a third round, it’s a feeble attempt at best.
Brad is, after all, only human.
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There are some vampires that maintain every blood type has a distinctive taste, and you can tell just by sipping at it what someone’s is.
Nate isn’t sure he believes this, has sucked the blood of hundreds of thousands of humans in his unlifetime, and he’s never been able to tell them apart. There are certain things that enrich blood, sure, like red wine or sweet melons, greasy steaks or salty pretzels, but Nate can’t distinguish between A and B, positive or negative. It all tastes the same to him.
Still, it’s fun to guess, and he’s got statistics in his favor in keeping him always right on the first go.
Walt plays along sometimes. He’s always been good about humoring Nate like that.
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Brad is surprisingly difficult to pin down, for a human. Even in his post coital state, he recognizes the change in their posture, their intent, and he fights it off as long as he can.
It takes both Nate and Walt to pin Brad to the bed.
When Walt sinks his teeth into Brad’s throat to suck him dry, Brad grunts in pain against the hand Nate has covering his mouth, but he doesn’t scream or cry. His eyes are a little glazed, a little unfocused, but Brad is a warrior, the man with the heart and soul of ice.
Brad resists Nate’s glamor for the longest time, but eventually, he goes slack. They always do.
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When it comes to blood sucking, Walt is all for the classics. He likes to sink his fangs in a pretty throat and suck the blood from the body like the greedy little monster he is.
Nate prefers the femoral artery, partly because of its location near the groin and partly because he doesn’t have to work as hard since the blood flows more freely.
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Nate can’t remember how old he was when he was turned, or even how long ago it was. The thing he remembers most clearly though, is the rush of fear in his system and the pounding in his heart the first time he was bitten and the rush of power when he felt at the first taste of his Maker’s blood.
Nate’s Maker didn’t abandon him, didn’t forget about him like Walt’s did to him, but sometimes Nate wishes he had. Nate’s Maker is the only person who can control him, who can strip him of his power and order him around. Nate’s Maker is the only one who ever managed to force Nate to his knees and took what he wanted and gave nothing in return.
Nate always tells himself if he ever sees his Maker again, he’ll kill him, but somehow, the bond between them and the blood pumping through Nate’s system keeps him from doing it every time.
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They don’t drink much from Brad.
Nate has Walt sit back after the first few desperate pulls and Nate takes his place. He drinks even less than Walt did, and it’s not nearly enough to kill Brad.
Nate pricks his thumb and heals the wounds on Brad’s neck with his own blood. It’s not enough to bind them together for eternity, or at least all of Brad’s lifetime, but it’s enough to leave Brad’s skin as unblemished as it was in the beginning.
They leave him there, glamored on the bed. It won’t last long, not without Walt or Nate there to keep his eyes focused, to keep him calm and relaxed, but it gives them both enough time to get dressed and slip out into the cool night air.
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Walt doesn’t ask why they don’t kill Brad, even though it’s obviously killing him not to know. He watches Nate carefully, worried that something is wrong with his best friend and lover, his companion in the night and the body that presses against his during the day, but he doesn’t speak.
When they get home, tucked up in their bed of more blankets and pillows then anyone could possibly need, Nate finally relaxes. If he’s entirely honest, he regrets not killing Brad, because he’s hungry. Yet somehow, he’s glad he didn’t.
The world could use more people like Bradley Colbert, if it plans on making it into the next millennium as well.
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Nate can feel the sun breaking on the horizon, the same way he can feel hallowed ground and the presence of another of the undead, even if he cannot see it.
He pulls Walt to him and wraps himself around Walt tight, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.
It doesn’t take long for Walt to respond, the stubborn confusion and unhappiness at being hungry melting away into something softer, not at all like they kisses they shared while Brad beat off to the sight of them.
It’s like that they fall asleep, trading lazy kisses and smiling against each other’s mouth.
Really, there is no better way to go about it.
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Everything is going to be okay.