GK - Guess who's going to hell?, 1/1, NC17, Brad/Nate, 5,817
Title: Guess who’s going to hell?
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Warning(s): barebacking, crossdressing, desk!sex?, nipple play (minor), rimming, roleplay (student/teacher), rough!sex, spanking
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for the Generation Kill Anonymous Kink Meme for the prompt Brad/boy!Nate, crossdressing (outerwear and underwear/lingerie), roleplay (authority figures), Brad’s the teacher and Nate’s the naughty schoolgirl. (Bonus points for flogging/spanking, nipple play and bondage.)
Word Count: 5.817
Notes: I am notoriously bad at math, so forgive me of that. And now I’m going to hell. It was nice knowing you guys.
Summary: Nate surprises Brad by wearing a school uniform. It has the desired effect.
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.
Brad’s elbow deep in a code that refuses to be a bitch when he hears the soft knock on the doorjamb to his home office. “Hey,” he says without looking up, drumming his fingers against his desk. He gives it another minute before sighing in frustration and glances away from his monitor. “Did you want to go to that - “
The words die on his lips.
Brad blinks slowly. He blinks again, just to make sure he’s not hallucinating from having stared at his computer screen too long. He swallows, licking his lips. “Hey,” he says again.
Nate smiles beatifically at him. He drops his gaze to straighten his button up blouse and the pretty, lacy camisole under it. He touches his fingers to his thighs, brushing lightly against the dark plaid pleated skirt, before he curls his fingers around the hems and tugs it down, but doesn’t let go. There’s a cute silver charm bracelet around Nate’s wrist where his watch usually rests, pretty against the pale tan line, and the leather chord of Nate’s horseshoe necklace visible under his shirt. He’s got white stockings on, too, up to his knees. “Hello, Mr. Colbert.”
For a moment, Brad forgets how to breathe. He thinks he should say something, can see the patience in Nate’s eyes as he waits for Brad to catch up with the program, but his mouth has gone dry. He looks away from Nate, starting at the computer code still half-finished on his screen, before looking at Nate again. He licks his lips again. “Can I help you with something, Miss Fick?”
There’s a pull of Nate’s lips up into a smirk, gleeful from his success, before he fights it back down. He drops his gaze, looking up at Brad shyly through half-lidded eyes. “I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Nate says, swaying slightly from foot to foot, tugging at the edge of his skirt nervously.
“Yeah?” Brad asks. He forces his hands flat on his desk to keep from reaching for Nate, even though they’re separated by a desk and half the room. “Why don’t you come into my office, then.” He hesitates, then smirks slightly. He adds “close the door” for no other reason other than it feels fitting with the game Nate’s playing.
Nate shudders slightly at Brad’s words, closing his eyes and biting at his lip. He steps into the office though, closing the door behind him. There’s a folding chair pressed against the wall, and Nate opens it, sitting down slowly. He crosses his ankles, ducking his head to break Brad’s gaze, and smooths his skirt out. His long fingers tug at the hem again, nervously.
Brad just watches Nate quietly, waiting for him to settle. He takes a second to suck in a sharp breath, before he leans back in his computer chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “What did you want my help with, Miss Fick?”
Nate shifts, uncrossing his legs. He spreads them, but he’s got a hand between his thighs, pushing his skirt down before Brad can peek up it. Nate keeps his hand there, blocking Brad’s view, and toys with the top button on his shirt. “I don’t really understand my multiplication tables. They’re so hard.” As Nate says the word, there’s a second where he cups himself through his skirt, squeezing lightly, and his eyes flutter shut. A heartbeat and it’s over. “I was wondering if you could teach them to me again.”
Fuck, Brad thinks, and he drops his hands to his thighs, pressing his nails into his jeans to fight back a groan. He can feel the blood in his system rushing to his groin, his cock stirring in interest, all of it because of Nate’s little show. “Why weren’t you paying attention the first time?”
“Because…” Nate starts. He bites his lip, looking up at Brad before looking away again. He tugs at the chord of his necklace and he grinds the heel of his palm against his cock through layers of fabric, his lips forming a soft ‘o’ in silent pleasure. “I was thinking about something else.”
“Something more important than your multiplication tables?” Brad asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tries to focus on Nate’s face, the way he’s biting his lip, but it’s hard to do when he’s still rubbing himself so blatantly. Brad can make out the hard line of Nate’s cock under the skirt; he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be able to look away. “What was that?”
“Yes, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says softly. He catches Brad’s eyes again and there’s a faint blush spreading across his face. “Do you promise you won’t tell my parents?”
“Whatever you say won’t leave this room,” Brad assures Nate. He takes a second to control himself, calm his breathing and fight the urge to rub his hand over his own dick. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“Okay,” Nate says, sucking in a breath. He stills the hand rubbing against his cock and adjusts his skirt, tugging it down over his thighs. It does nothing to hide his dick, though, and Nate just presses his palm down over it, moaning softly. “I was thinking about what it would be like - “ Nate pauses, swallows. His voice drops when he picks his sentence up again, forcing Brad to lean in. “ - if we had sex on your desk during class.”
Brad bites his tongue but it doesn’t stop his groan from escaping him. “Was the rest of the class doing their busy work in your, ah, fantasy?”
“Yes, sir,” Nate whispers.
“And they didn’t have a single thing to say about me bending you over?” Brad asks.
“No, sir.”
Brad lets out a small sound, leaning back in his seat again. He runs a hand over his face, slowly, before smiling at Nate. “I think,” he starts, pausing long enough to lick his lips and grin, feral, “you should come over here so I can help you with your multiplication tables.”
Nate looks startled, squirming shyly and tugging at his skirt, his necklace. “You’re not mad at me?”
“No,” Brad says lightly. “Why would I be? You’re a young girl. Sometimes these things happen.”
Bringing his hand up to bite at his nails lightly, Nate looks at Brad hesitantly across the desk. He seems to be thinking, rubbing his hand against his cock idly again, before he finally smiles shyly at Brad. “Okay, Mr. Colbert.” He stands up slowly, gracefully, and keeps one hand pressed against his cock. It does nothing to hide the fact he’s hard, and Nate ducks his head to hide his blush. “Where am I supposed to sit?”
“You can sit on my lap, if you want,” Brad offers. He pushes his chair away from his desk and spreads his arms invitingly. He catches a moment of gleeful pride on Nate’s face when Nate notices Brad’s cock hard in his jeans, but it’s only there for a second. “I promise I don’t bite. Hard.”
Nate moves around the desk slowly, carefully. He watches Brad without watching him, always looking out of the corner of his eyes to avoid meeting Brad’s gaze. He hesitates, smoothing down his skirt again, tugging at it to make sure it covers his ass, and sits down on Brad’s lap carefully, his knees locked firmly together.
It’s embarrassingly hard not to groan and rock his hips up against Nate’s ass, but Brad manages. He settles his hands on Nate’s hips, and wheels his chair closer to the desk again. “Grab a piece of paper,” Brad whispers into Nate’s ear, “and a pen.”
There’s a long moment where Nate can’t seem to find a pen, needs Brad to point to the small stash hiding under some papers for him to locate one. He steals a blank sheet of paper from the printer and leans forward, tucking his legs on the outside of Brad’s and spreading them wide. The angle does amazing things for the view of Nate’s ass and Brad bites back another groan. “I’m really bad at this,” Nate admits meekly.
“We’ll start easy,” Brad says and he bites back the urge to call Nate a liar. Nate is very, very good at this - and Brad doesn’t mean multiplication tables. Really, he’s surprised Nate’s heavy ass is comfortable in Brad’s lap with the way Brad’s cock is pressed against him. “Do you know through your fives?”
Nate squirms slightly to get comfortable and Brad squeezes Nate’s hips lightly in response, stopping him. “Five, ten, fifteen, twenty,” Nate answers, looking over his shoulder at Brad. He smiles sweetly, shyly. “It’s the higher numbers I can never remember.”
“I can teach you a trick for your nines,” Brad says. He slides his hand around Nate’s waist slowly, his hand flat on Nate’s stomach. His pinky slips under the hem of Nate’s skirt, a soft brush, and he can feel Nate’s stomach tremble in anticipation. He presses against Nate’s stomach lightly, urging him back against Brad’s chest. “Just watch,” he breathes in Nate’s ear, smiling when Nate shudders. “Bring your hands up.”
Brad takes one of Nate’s hands in his own, squeezing his fingers lightly, and gives Nate a chance to obey. “Nine times four,” Brad says softly. He taps his finger to Nate’s finger tips, counting over one, two, three, four. He pauses on the fourth one, and pushes it down light. “Thirty six.” He taps the fingers again, whispering “one, two, three” softly. Skipping the finger that’s pushed down, Brad moves to Nate’s thumb. “One - “ a pause while Brad switches hands, before tapping the tips on Nate’s other hand. “ - two, three, four, five, six.”
“Oh,” Nate says softly, looking from his hands to Brad. “That’s cool.”
He drops his hands away from Nate’s, pressing one to Nate’s thigh and the other to the front of Nate’s shirt. Brad toys with the leather chord of Nate’s necklace, and Nate lets him, squirming slightly when Brad’s fingers skim over the silky skin on Nate’s thigh. It makes Brad groan, slightly, closing his eyes.
“Your turn,” Brad says softly, brushing his lips against the back of Nate’s neck. He can feel Nate shudder, tense, and Brad just breathes against Nate’s skin, inhaling the sweet artificial scent of strawberries and something that is distinctly Nate. “Nine times eight.”
Nate wiggles each finger as he counts across his hands, before tucking the eighth one down. He wiggles them again, counting out seven softly, before pausing. “Seventy two?”
“Very good,” Brad says. He moves his fingers from Nate’s necklace to the top button on his blouse, thumbing it open gently. He’s surprised when Nate’s hand comes up to cover his own, stopping him. “Is there a problem, Miss Fick?”
Nate squirms again, squeezing Brad’s fingers tightly. He looks over his shoulder, smiling shyly. “It’s against the dress code to have more than one button undone, Mr. Colbert. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Brad says softly. He nudges Nate’s hand away, sliding his fingers down slowly before he can tug on the third button and pop it through the hole. “You’ll be more comfortable this way. Just focus on your math.”
“If you say so,” Nate says, but he doesn’t sound all that hesitant. He looks away from Brad, watching as Brad’s fingers move down the buttons on his shirt, popping upon the fourth. “I don’t suppose you have any other tricks for learning my eights as well?”
“I’m afraid not.” He tries to sound apologetic, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when Nate keeps squirming on his lap, dragging this game out. Brad’s not about to admit defeat though, not when Nate is still so eager to play. “But you know,” Brad says slowly, “sometimes it’s easier to learn your multiplication tables if you know how to divide.”
“Really?” Nate asks, incredulous. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
The fifth button comes undone without any trouble, but Brad has to bring his hand up from Nate’s thigh to get the sixth one, the final one, undone. He makes a triumphant noise, brushing his lips against the back of Nate’s neck again. “I know a good way to help you remember the answer.” He reaches for Nate’s shoulders, tugging at the blouse lightly.
“Mr. Colbert - “ Nate starts, tugging his blouse out of Brad’s grasp and holding it closed in the front.
Brad shhs Nate softly. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re more comfortable, Miss Fick. Math is difficult. I wouldn’t want you being too warm to distract you from learning.” He sooths Nate’s blouse out of Nate’s tight grasp, and this time when Brad starts to tug it down Nate’s shoulders and arms, Nate lets him. “Much better.”
Nate moves his hands in front of himself, fingers tugging and fidgeting with the leather chord of his necklace. It gives Brad a chance to admire the soft green camisole, running his fingers along the lacy frills at the bottom of it. Nate’s acquiring of the garments, all of them, is a mystery and a half, but for once, Brad is completely okay with the intrigue. “Yeah,” Nate agrees after a moment, and he drops his hands to smooth out his skirt again, groaning softly as he rubs a hand over his cock. “So. Um.”
“Yeah,” Brad agrees. He touches his fingers to Nate’s spine, running them down the soft camisole. “This is pretty.”
“Thank you,” Nate whispers.
Brad hums softly and rests his hands on Nate’s hips. “Well, Miss Fick, we’ll start simple.” He tucks his thumbs up under the camisole, rubbing them in slow, broad circles over the back of Nate’s hips. It makes Nate shudder, but Brad doesn’t stop. “Do you know what eighteen divided by six is?”
“Eighteen divided by six?” Nate asks. He tugs at his necklace again, smiling shyly over his shoulder at Brad. “That one’s easy. It’s three.”
“What about thirty-five divided by five?” He shifts his hands, sliding them up under Nate’s camisole to touch his stomach. For a tense moment, Nate moves his hand to object, to push them back down. “Relax,” Brad breathes, and Nate does.
Nate’s smile becomes more confident. He lets Brad slip his hands up higher, closing his eyes and gasping out “seven” at the first touch of Brad’s fingers to Nate’s nipples. “Mr. Colbert?”
“Very good,” Brad says, smiling back. He thumbs at Nate’s nipples lightly, watching Nate’s face carefully, eyes linger on the way Nate’s tongue peeks out between his teeth as he moans. “It’s okay,” he says, flicking a thumb over one of Nate’s nipples. “You’re doing really good. Do you know what forty-two divided by seven is?”
At first, Nate doesn’t answer. He clutches the arms of Brad’s chair tightly, pressing his chest forward slightly to get more of Brad’s fingers on his nipples. It causes his hips to rock slightly, pressing back against Brad’s cock and reminding it that, yes, they are getting to the sexy part of the sexy game. Nate swallows, resting his head on Brad’s shoulder. “Six?”
Brad tugs at Nate’s nipple lightly, twisting it. It makes Nate gasp, bowing his back. Brad soothes his thumb over the nipple lightly, chasing away the pain. “That’s right,” he whispers into Nate’s ear. He lets his nails scrape slowly in circles around Nate’s nipples, flicking out over the buds roughly. “And forty-eight divided by eight?”
Nate moans softly, trembling under Brad’s fingers, the way Brad knows to tug and twist roughly at his nipples. It’s painfully obvious how hard he is, his cock tenting the front of the skirt obscenely. It amazes Brad that there’s enough fabric to still cover the length of it. “Um,” Nate says, licking his lips and panting harshly, crying out when Brad tugs again, harder. “Um. Eight?”
The wrong answer makes Brad pause, smoothing his hands over Nate’s chest until he can feel the bud of Nate’s nipples in the center of his palms. “No,” he says. He ignores the way Nate is trembling, pressing his chest up uselessly to feel more of Brad’s hands against his nipples. “Try again.”
A small sound escapes Nate. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. He licks his lips, tries again. “Is it seven?”
Brad sighs, kissing Nate’s shoulder lightly. “You were doing so well, too, Miss Fick.”
“It’s okay if you call me Natalie, you know,” Nate says, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t mind. Since you’re helping me out and all.”
Pressing his lips against Nate’s shoulder, Brad hides a grin. He kisses the skin again. “Okay, then, Natalie. Do you want me to show you an easy way to remember your division?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says. “Math’s just so hard - “ an intentional drag of his hips as he sits up again, moving to rub at his own cock. “ - I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to do this.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Brad says. He slides his hands down Nate’s front, tugging his camisole back into place. He thumps Nate’s thighs lightly, rolling his hips up slowly, closing his eyes and biting back a groan. “Why don’t you stand up for a second?”
Nate obeys, standing up carefully. He touches his ass, making sure his skirt is still smoothed down, shooting Brad a shy smile. “What should I do now, Mr. Colbert?”
“I want you to drape yourself over the top of my desk, Natalie. Yeah, just like that.” He watches as Nate bends over, folding his arms and resting his cheek against them, his top half draped over Brad’s desk. Brad leans forward, nudging his keyboard out of the way, and just admires the view.
Nate’s skirt is riding up, and Brad finally, finally gets to see why Nate kept tugging his skirt down to hide what’s underneath. It makes Brad’s breath catch and he has to press a hand to his cock to relieve the sudden hot flush of want and he can’t keep back his moan at all. Nate’s got on panties. Cute lacy green ones, not quite the same shade as his camisole, and there are little pink bows in the center of the back of his thighs. Nate smirks triumphantly when he sees the effect they’re having on Brad and shudders when Brad’s fingers skim just along the elastic, under the curve of his ass.
Brad swallows, but his throat has gone dry again. It takes him a second to remember how to speak, takes even longer when he brushes the dark skirt up Nate’s ass so he can see even more of the panties. There are even more bows, which Brad will mock later, but now he’s far more concerned with the transparency of the lace and cleft of Nate’s ass.
Brad really, really wants to put his mouth there.
Instead, he touches his fingers to the cleft, teasing down slightly until he reaches where he knows Nate’s asshole is. He presses his fingers up, rubbing against Nate through the lace. “So goddamn pretty, Natalie.”
“This isn’t helping me with my math any,” Nate says softly, but he arches back into the touch and groans softly.
“Right.” It takes Brad a moment to work up the will to stop rubbing his fingers against Nate and wheel his chair far enough back for him to stand up. He nudges it further back, so it’s not in the way, and presses himself against Nate, rubbing his dick against Nate’s ass. He grabs Nate’s hips, squeezing lightly. “Spread your legs and I’ll teach you a way to never forget.”
Nate presses his forehead to Brad’s desk, his nails searching for something to hold onto. He spreads his thighs wide, slowly, and Brad watches Nate’s ass and thighs clench and unclench in nervous anticipation. He doesn’t shy away from Brad’s hands cupping his ass, squeezing. “Like this?” Nate whispers, his voice muffled.
“Just like that,” Brad says. He drags his knuckles over Nate’s ass slowly. “Remember what I asked you?” he asks, snapping the elastic of Nate’s panties lightly. “What’s the answer to forty-eight divided by eight? Do you remember what you told me?”
“Eight,” Nate says. He squirms slightly, impatient. “Seven.”
“And do you know what the real answer is?” Brad asks. He watches Nate shake his head, shoulders going tense. “Have you figured out what I’m about to do to you?” This time, Nate nods. “Are you going to stop me?” Again, Brad watches Nate shake his head. “Good. The answer is six. Do you want to know how you’re going to remember that?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Colbert,” Nate breathes. “Please teach me how to remember.”
Brad drags his knuckles across Nate’s ass one last time before pulling back and stepping away. He gives Nate a second for the anticipation to build, for his thighs to tremble, before Brad brings his hand down on Nate’s ass in a hard smack. He uses the flat of his palm, more for the noise, but it still has Nate bucking back against his hand and crying out softly.
“One,” Brad says. He smacks Nate’s ass again, harder, on the other cheek. “Two.” He brings his hand down again a third time, and Nate’s ass is pressing back to feel it before Brad’s hand even comes down. “Three.” Each blow is harder than the next, Brad counting off each one, and by the time Brad reaches six, Nate’s ass is already starting to turn a pretty pink under the panties. Brad stands back and admires his work. “What’s forty-eight divided by eight, Natalie?”
“Six, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says, and he sounds wrecked. “Forty-eight divided by eight is six.”
“Good girl,” Brad murmurs. He hooks his fingers in the elastic band of Nate’s panties, tugging them down the curve of Nate’s ass slowly. It makes Nate cry out, his skin flushed and sensitive and Brad pinches the swell of one cheek roughly. “Do you know what seventy two divided by nine is?”
There’s a long moment of silence where Nate is either trying to remember or trying to control his breathing, his voice. After a moment though, he presses his cheek to the desk and looks back at Brad. “Eight?”
“Are you guessing?” Brad asks, tugging Nate’s panties down the rest of the way. He leaves them tucked under the curve of his ass, and tugs Nate’s hips back away from the desk so he can slide his hands underneath Nate and tug the panties down over Nate’s cock. The front of the panties are soaked through with precome and Brad can’t even imagine the wet itch of lace must feel on Nate’s hot dick.
Nate arches his hips forward to feel Brad’s hand on his cock but Brad just tucks the panties under Nate’s balls and pulls away again. “Yes,” Nate groans out, closing his eyes. “I don’t know, Mr. Colbert, I’m sorry.”
“Well,” Brad says slowly, touching a hand to the hot skin of Nate’s ass. “You were right.” He lets Nate have a moment to tremble, to relax. “You ready for another problem?” Brad asks, and he laughs at Nate’s immediate hiss of yes. “It’s sexy when girls like math,” Brad says.
Nate just pushes his ass back against Brad’s fingers, whining impatiently.
“What’s four hundred and forty-eight divided by twenty-eight?” Brad asks.
Nate’s eyes snap open again, large and shocked. “I - what?” He asks, looking at Brad in confusion. “That wasn’t on the homework, Mr. Colbert - “
“There’s nothing wrong with studying ahead, Natalie,” Brad says, grinning. He backhands Nate’s ass lightly, playfully. “Think of the reward you’ll get if you’re wrong.”
Nate groans, pressing his forehead against the desk again while he tried to think. “I don’t - “ He fists his hands in his hair, trying to think, making a frustrated sound. “Sixteen? No, wait, fourteen.”
For a second, Brad’s not sure whether to laugh or shake his head. “Did you change your answer just so I’d spank you again, Natalie?”
Nate looks over his shoulder, a sly smile on his face. “And if I did?”
Brad grabs Nate’s hips, ducking down to kiss the soft spot behind Nate’s ear. “Then I guess I’m just going to have to spank you anyway for being a naughty little girl. If you wanted to feel my hand on your ass, Natalie, all you had to do was ask.”
Nate licks his lips. “Will you please spank me, Mr. Colbert?”
Brad groans, kissing the spot behind Nate’s eat again, licking his tongue along the shell. He grins when Nate shudders and moans, and presses another kiss to Nate’s skin. “Have you been a bad girl, Natalie? Do you need to be spanked?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Colbert,” Nate groans, pressing his ass back against Brad. “I’ve been a very naughty girl. I’ve been touching myself all day thinking about you bending me over your desk just like this, about how it would feel to have your dick inside me. Please spank me, Mr. Colbert, I deserve it.”
“Fuck yeah, you do,” Brad grunts out. He lets Nate grind against his ass for a bit, nipping and sucking a hickey into the back of Nate’s neck. “Sixteen more spanks,” Brad whispers softly, nosing against the back of Nate’s ear. “Then I’m going to lick open your pretty little ass and fuck you over my desk. Is that what you want, Natalie?”
Nate whimpers in response, trembling under Brad. “Please,” he whispers.
Brad pulls back slowly. He pushes Nate’s skirt further up his back, careful to make sure it stays out of the way, and admires Nate’s ass. He doesn’t warn Nate before he brings his hand down again, hard, and Nate bucks back and cries out. He counts off slowly, calmly, after each hit. Each blow is harder than the last, until even Brad’s hand is hurting from it, but he doesn’t stop.
Nate’s ass and the top of his thighs are such a pretty shade of red. He’s going to have welts, isn’t going to be able to sit down at all, and fuck if that doesn’t turn Brad on. Nate presses back for more, whimpering pathetically, and Brad keeps giving it to him. Even after sixteen strikes, Nate begs for more and Brad is more than willing to give Nate what he wants.
Really, it’s only the fact that Brad is tired of waiting that gets him to stop raining down blows on Nate’s ass. He fumbles behind him for his office chair, dragging it close enough he can collapse in it again. He presses his fingers to the swell of Nate’s ass, and Nate whimpers in response. His face is tear-stained when he looks back at Brad and it shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is.
“Shh,” Brad says softly. He tugs Nate’s panties a little further down his legs, kissing the crease of his thigh and ass lightly. “Such a good girl,” Brad murmurs and Nate whimpers again. He trails his fingers down the cleft of Nate’s ass slowly, before spreading Nate open to look at his hole. Running a thumb over the furled skin lightly, Brad huffs out a rough breath and leans forward and replaces his thumb with his tongue.
He starts slow, easy, just lapping his tongue over Nate’s asshole. He licks a line from the back of Nate’s balls to his hole in a broad stroke, again and again, getting him wet. He tongues at Nate’s hole, spitting on it to slick him up, before pressing his tongue against it, hard. He huffs out a breath when Nate clenches and Brad smacks Nate’s ass lightly in reprimand.
Nate whimpers again in response, but he relaxes. He holds himself still while Brad licks him open, kissing and sucking lightly before plunging in with a speared tongue. Nate presses up onto his tiptoes, urging his ass back for more and Nate moans like a cheap whore every time Brad’s tongue presses inside of him.
When Brad spreads Nate’s hole open with his thumbs to slide his tongue even deeper, Nate howls, hips bucking back for more. Brad fucks Nate thoroughly with his tongue, spitting and slicking him up, alternating between long, broad licks and quick flicks of his tongue. He catches the rim with his teeth, sucking lightly, before he’s back to shoving his tongue in Nate’s ass and making him beg.
It does not count as cheating when Brad slips two fingers inside of Nate alongside his tongue, pressing and rubbing against Nate’s prostate roughly. Not when Nate breaks, whimpering “Brad, please” so prettily and forgoing the game he started. And really, Brad is all too happy to oblige Nate in this way.
He pulls back from Nate, tugging his tee-shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. He watches as Nate shoves aside books and papers, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch as Brad struggle to undo his belt. The thing is evil and takes way longer than it should click open and as soon as he’s free of it he reaches for his button and zipper. He shoves his jeans down his thighs roughly, along with his boxers, doesn’t bother to pull them off.
Jacking his cock slowly, Brad nudges Nate’s thighs apart slowly before he presses in close, rubbing the slick head of his dick against the cleft of Nate’s ass. It makes Nate buck back, grinding his hips up encouragingly, and Brad brings his hand down on Nate’s ass again. Brad grunts when Nate cries out, and he stops teasing and shoves his cock inside of Nate’s hole without a warning.
Nate screams again, for a different reason. Almost immediately, he starts rocking back against Brad’s cock, rolling his hips and fucking himself as best he can pinned to the desk, Brad’s hands on his hips and squeezing tightly. He cries out with every touch to his ass, the skin angry and red, until he bites his lip to keep back the sounds.
Brad grunts, slapping Nate’s ass again. “I want to hear you,” he says. He pulls out of Nate and thrusts back in, the motions of his hips erratic as he does it again and again. He spreads his own thighs and presses in closer to Nate, and he gets deeper, his cock glancing over Nate’s prostate just right on every thrust. “Scream for me, Na - Natalie.”
Nate does. Every slap to his ass and every thrust earns a sharp cry, until the hoarse, desperate sounds Brad is drawing out of Nate’s throat drown out the rough sound of skin on skin slapping together, of the desk banging against the wall and even more books crashing to the floor. Nate screams, and Brad hopes to God no one calls the cops, because gagging Nate would be a fucking crime.
Nate’s so tight and hot around Brad’s dick, on the delicate line of just being slick enough from Brad’s spit and tongue and dry enough for the friction to burn. He clenches around Brad every time Brad pulls out and pushes back desperately to meet him at every thrust. He’s so fucking good that Brad forgets how to breathe, how to do anything but fuck into the tight heat and then he’s coming, like a punch to the gut and he’s gasping for breath.
He can feel each pulse of his cock, pumping his hips into Nate even through his orgasm and Nate drags string after string of come out of Brad until Brad’s balls ache and Nate’s full of it. Brad groans, pulling out of Nate and collapsing back into his chair. His come is already starting to leak out of Nate’s abused ass, and Brad groans. “Touch yourself,” Brad whispers, hoarse. “Fucking come all over your fingers.”
Nate makes a pathetic sound, biting his lip, but he obeys. He spreads his legs wider, slipping a hand between his thighs and shoving his own fingers back inside of his ass, fucking himself roughly as he jerks his cock. His hips buck and roll spastically, torn between his fingers inside of him and on his dick, but it doesn’t take long for Nate to come with a strangled cry. Nate comes across his fist and fingers, on the carpet, and he collapses bodily on top of Brad’s desk when he’s done. His arms fall uselessly at his sides, smearing come all over Brad’s desk.
Brad watches him for a minute, just trying to catch his breath. It’s hard when Nate’s red, abused ass is the center of his vision, when he can see the dark fabric of the skirt all rumpled and the way sweat is slicking down Nate’s back and thighs. Brad leans forward to tug the panties the rest of the way down Nate’s legs, lifting each ankle so he can tug it free before Nate manages to rip them. Really, Brad is surprised the lace has lasted this long.
He tugs his jeans and boxers back up, but doesn’t button them. Fuck if that doesn’t seem too restrictive right now. “You okay, Natalie?” Brad asks softly, teasingly, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of Nate’s neck.
Nate makes a small sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Fuck you,” Nate breathes, his voice wrecked, cracking. “I am never moving again. If you ever want to use your computer again, you’re just going to have to cope.”
Brad considers it for a moment, pushing himself up onto his palms, looking down at Nate. He squeezes the panties still clutched in his fists and grins. “I could certainly think of worse things to spend all my time staring at,” he says. Trailing a finger down Nate’s spine slowly, Brad grins wider, feral. “And you’re certainly much more fun to make my bitch than a computer code.”
The look Nate gives him is absolutely withering, but he’s too exhausted to put much more effort into it than that. His eyes flicker shut and he sucks in a sharp breath. If Brad lets him, he thinks Nate might honestly fall asleep bent over the desk, his thighs spread and come dripping out of his ass. It’d be a pretty sight, but Nate will hate himself - and Brad - in the morning.
“Come on, Nate,” Brad says softly, touching Nate’s hip. “Let’s get you to bed.” He bites his lip at the pathetic sound Nate makes at the prospect of moving, but somehow, together, they manage to get Nate up on his feet. Brad presses a soft kiss against Nate’s temple, squeezing his arm around Nate’s waist.
Their bed always feels so impossibly far away when they need it, but if there’s one thing Brad knows for sure by now, it’s that when they make it to it, it’s always worth it.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick
Warning(s): barebacking, crossdressing, desk!sex?, nipple play (minor), rimming, roleplay (student/teacher), rough!sex, spanking
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): Written for the Generation Kill Anonymous Kink Meme for the prompt Brad/boy!Nate, crossdressing (outerwear and underwear/lingerie), roleplay (authority figures), Brad’s the teacher and Nate’s the naughty schoolgirl. (Bonus points for flogging/spanking, nipple play and bondage.)
Word Count: 5.817
Notes: I am notoriously bad at math, so forgive me of that. And now I’m going to hell. It was nice knowing you guys.
Summary: Nate surprises Brad by wearing a school uniform. It has the desired effect.
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.
Brad’s elbow deep in a code that refuses to be a bitch when he hears the soft knock on the doorjamb to his home office. “Hey,” he says without looking up, drumming his fingers against his desk. He gives it another minute before sighing in frustration and glances away from his monitor. “Did you want to go to that - “
The words die on his lips.
Brad blinks slowly. He blinks again, just to make sure he’s not hallucinating from having stared at his computer screen too long. He swallows, licking his lips. “Hey,” he says again.
Nate smiles beatifically at him. He drops his gaze to straighten his button up blouse and the pretty, lacy camisole under it. He touches his fingers to his thighs, brushing lightly against the dark plaid pleated skirt, before he curls his fingers around the hems and tugs it down, but doesn’t let go. There’s a cute silver charm bracelet around Nate’s wrist where his watch usually rests, pretty against the pale tan line, and the leather chord of Nate’s horseshoe necklace visible under his shirt. He’s got white stockings on, too, up to his knees. “Hello, Mr. Colbert.”
For a moment, Brad forgets how to breathe. He thinks he should say something, can see the patience in Nate’s eyes as he waits for Brad to catch up with the program, but his mouth has gone dry. He looks away from Nate, starting at the computer code still half-finished on his screen, before looking at Nate again. He licks his lips again. “Can I help you with something, Miss Fick?”
There’s a pull of Nate’s lips up into a smirk, gleeful from his success, before he fights it back down. He drops his gaze, looking up at Brad shyly through half-lidded eyes. “I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Nate says, swaying slightly from foot to foot, tugging at the edge of his skirt nervously.
“Yeah?” Brad asks. He forces his hands flat on his desk to keep from reaching for Nate, even though they’re separated by a desk and half the room. “Why don’t you come into my office, then.” He hesitates, then smirks slightly. He adds “close the door” for no other reason other than it feels fitting with the game Nate’s playing.
Nate shudders slightly at Brad’s words, closing his eyes and biting at his lip. He steps into the office though, closing the door behind him. There’s a folding chair pressed against the wall, and Nate opens it, sitting down slowly. He crosses his ankles, ducking his head to break Brad’s gaze, and smooths his skirt out. His long fingers tug at the hem again, nervously.
Brad just watches Nate quietly, waiting for him to settle. He takes a second to suck in a sharp breath, before he leans back in his computer chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “What did you want my help with, Miss Fick?”
Nate shifts, uncrossing his legs. He spreads them, but he’s got a hand between his thighs, pushing his skirt down before Brad can peek up it. Nate keeps his hand there, blocking Brad’s view, and toys with the top button on his shirt. “I don’t really understand my multiplication tables. They’re so hard.” As Nate says the word, there’s a second where he cups himself through his skirt, squeezing lightly, and his eyes flutter shut. A heartbeat and it’s over. “I was wondering if you could teach them to me again.”
Fuck, Brad thinks, and he drops his hands to his thighs, pressing his nails into his jeans to fight back a groan. He can feel the blood in his system rushing to his groin, his cock stirring in interest, all of it because of Nate’s little show. “Why weren’t you paying attention the first time?”
“Because…” Nate starts. He bites his lip, looking up at Brad before looking away again. He tugs at the chord of his necklace and he grinds the heel of his palm against his cock through layers of fabric, his lips forming a soft ‘o’ in silent pleasure. “I was thinking about something else.”
“Something more important than your multiplication tables?” Brad asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tries to focus on Nate’s face, the way he’s biting his lip, but it’s hard to do when he’s still rubbing himself so blatantly. Brad can make out the hard line of Nate’s cock under the skirt; he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be able to look away. “What was that?”
“Yes, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says softly. He catches Brad’s eyes again and there’s a faint blush spreading across his face. “Do you promise you won’t tell my parents?”
“Whatever you say won’t leave this room,” Brad assures Nate. He takes a second to control himself, calm his breathing and fight the urge to rub his hand over his own dick. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“Okay,” Nate says, sucking in a breath. He stills the hand rubbing against his cock and adjusts his skirt, tugging it down over his thighs. It does nothing to hide his dick, though, and Nate just presses his palm down over it, moaning softly. “I was thinking about what it would be like - “ Nate pauses, swallows. His voice drops when he picks his sentence up again, forcing Brad to lean in. “ - if we had sex on your desk during class.”
Brad bites his tongue but it doesn’t stop his groan from escaping him. “Was the rest of the class doing their busy work in your, ah, fantasy?”
“Yes, sir,” Nate whispers.
“And they didn’t have a single thing to say about me bending you over?” Brad asks.
“No, sir.”
Brad lets out a small sound, leaning back in his seat again. He runs a hand over his face, slowly, before smiling at Nate. “I think,” he starts, pausing long enough to lick his lips and grin, feral, “you should come over here so I can help you with your multiplication tables.”
Nate looks startled, squirming shyly and tugging at his skirt, his necklace. “You’re not mad at me?”
“No,” Brad says lightly. “Why would I be? You’re a young girl. Sometimes these things happen.”
Bringing his hand up to bite at his nails lightly, Nate looks at Brad hesitantly across the desk. He seems to be thinking, rubbing his hand against his cock idly again, before he finally smiles shyly at Brad. “Okay, Mr. Colbert.” He stands up slowly, gracefully, and keeps one hand pressed against his cock. It does nothing to hide the fact he’s hard, and Nate ducks his head to hide his blush. “Where am I supposed to sit?”
“You can sit on my lap, if you want,” Brad offers. He pushes his chair away from his desk and spreads his arms invitingly. He catches a moment of gleeful pride on Nate’s face when Nate notices Brad’s cock hard in his jeans, but it’s only there for a second. “I promise I don’t bite. Hard.”
Nate moves around the desk slowly, carefully. He watches Brad without watching him, always looking out of the corner of his eyes to avoid meeting Brad’s gaze. He hesitates, smoothing down his skirt again, tugging at it to make sure it covers his ass, and sits down on Brad’s lap carefully, his knees locked firmly together.
It’s embarrassingly hard not to groan and rock his hips up against Nate’s ass, but Brad manages. He settles his hands on Nate’s hips, and wheels his chair closer to the desk again. “Grab a piece of paper,” Brad whispers into Nate’s ear, “and a pen.”
There’s a long moment where Nate can’t seem to find a pen, needs Brad to point to the small stash hiding under some papers for him to locate one. He steals a blank sheet of paper from the printer and leans forward, tucking his legs on the outside of Brad’s and spreading them wide. The angle does amazing things for the view of Nate’s ass and Brad bites back another groan. “I’m really bad at this,” Nate admits meekly.
“We’ll start easy,” Brad says and he bites back the urge to call Nate a liar. Nate is very, very good at this - and Brad doesn’t mean multiplication tables. Really, he’s surprised Nate’s heavy ass is comfortable in Brad’s lap with the way Brad’s cock is pressed against him. “Do you know through your fives?”
Nate squirms slightly to get comfortable and Brad squeezes Nate’s hips lightly in response, stopping him. “Five, ten, fifteen, twenty,” Nate answers, looking over his shoulder at Brad. He smiles sweetly, shyly. “It’s the higher numbers I can never remember.”
“I can teach you a trick for your nines,” Brad says. He slides his hand around Nate’s waist slowly, his hand flat on Nate’s stomach. His pinky slips under the hem of Nate’s skirt, a soft brush, and he can feel Nate’s stomach tremble in anticipation. He presses against Nate’s stomach lightly, urging him back against Brad’s chest. “Just watch,” he breathes in Nate’s ear, smiling when Nate shudders. “Bring your hands up.”
Brad takes one of Nate’s hands in his own, squeezing his fingers lightly, and gives Nate a chance to obey. “Nine times four,” Brad says softly. He taps his finger to Nate’s finger tips, counting over one, two, three, four. He pauses on the fourth one, and pushes it down light. “Thirty six.” He taps the fingers again, whispering “one, two, three” softly. Skipping the finger that’s pushed down, Brad moves to Nate’s thumb. “One - “ a pause while Brad switches hands, before tapping the tips on Nate’s other hand. “ - two, three, four, five, six.”
“Oh,” Nate says softly, looking from his hands to Brad. “That’s cool.”
He drops his hands away from Nate’s, pressing one to Nate’s thigh and the other to the front of Nate’s shirt. Brad toys with the leather chord of Nate’s necklace, and Nate lets him, squirming slightly when Brad’s fingers skim over the silky skin on Nate’s thigh. It makes Brad groan, slightly, closing his eyes.
“Your turn,” Brad says softly, brushing his lips against the back of Nate’s neck. He can feel Nate shudder, tense, and Brad just breathes against Nate’s skin, inhaling the sweet artificial scent of strawberries and something that is distinctly Nate. “Nine times eight.”
Nate wiggles each finger as he counts across his hands, before tucking the eighth one down. He wiggles them again, counting out seven softly, before pausing. “Seventy two?”
“Very good,” Brad says. He moves his fingers from Nate’s necklace to the top button on his blouse, thumbing it open gently. He’s surprised when Nate’s hand comes up to cover his own, stopping him. “Is there a problem, Miss Fick?”
Nate squirms again, squeezing Brad’s fingers tightly. He looks over his shoulder, smiling shyly. “It’s against the dress code to have more than one button undone, Mr. Colbert. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Brad says softly. He nudges Nate’s hand away, sliding his fingers down slowly before he can tug on the third button and pop it through the hole. “You’ll be more comfortable this way. Just focus on your math.”
“If you say so,” Nate says, but he doesn’t sound all that hesitant. He looks away from Brad, watching as Brad’s fingers move down the buttons on his shirt, popping upon the fourth. “I don’t suppose you have any other tricks for learning my eights as well?”
“I’m afraid not.” He tries to sound apologetic, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when Nate keeps squirming on his lap, dragging this game out. Brad’s not about to admit defeat though, not when Nate is still so eager to play. “But you know,” Brad says slowly, “sometimes it’s easier to learn your multiplication tables if you know how to divide.”
“Really?” Nate asks, incredulous. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
The fifth button comes undone without any trouble, but Brad has to bring his hand up from Nate’s thigh to get the sixth one, the final one, undone. He makes a triumphant noise, brushing his lips against the back of Nate’s neck again. “I know a good way to help you remember the answer.” He reaches for Nate’s shoulders, tugging at the blouse lightly.
“Mr. Colbert - “ Nate starts, tugging his blouse out of Brad’s grasp and holding it closed in the front.
Brad shhs Nate softly. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re more comfortable, Miss Fick. Math is difficult. I wouldn’t want you being too warm to distract you from learning.” He sooths Nate’s blouse out of Nate’s tight grasp, and this time when Brad starts to tug it down Nate’s shoulders and arms, Nate lets him. “Much better.”
Nate moves his hands in front of himself, fingers tugging and fidgeting with the leather chord of his necklace. It gives Brad a chance to admire the soft green camisole, running his fingers along the lacy frills at the bottom of it. Nate’s acquiring of the garments, all of them, is a mystery and a half, but for once, Brad is completely okay with the intrigue. “Yeah,” Nate agrees after a moment, and he drops his hands to smooth out his skirt again, groaning softly as he rubs a hand over his cock. “So. Um.”
“Yeah,” Brad agrees. He touches his fingers to Nate’s spine, running them down the soft camisole. “This is pretty.”
“Thank you,” Nate whispers.
Brad hums softly and rests his hands on Nate’s hips. “Well, Miss Fick, we’ll start simple.” He tucks his thumbs up under the camisole, rubbing them in slow, broad circles over the back of Nate’s hips. It makes Nate shudder, but Brad doesn’t stop. “Do you know what eighteen divided by six is?”
“Eighteen divided by six?” Nate asks. He tugs at his necklace again, smiling shyly over his shoulder at Brad. “That one’s easy. It’s three.”
“What about thirty-five divided by five?” He shifts his hands, sliding them up under Nate’s camisole to touch his stomach. For a tense moment, Nate moves his hand to object, to push them back down. “Relax,” Brad breathes, and Nate does.
Nate’s smile becomes more confident. He lets Brad slip his hands up higher, closing his eyes and gasping out “seven” at the first touch of Brad’s fingers to Nate’s nipples. “Mr. Colbert?”
“Very good,” Brad says, smiling back. He thumbs at Nate’s nipples lightly, watching Nate’s face carefully, eyes linger on the way Nate’s tongue peeks out between his teeth as he moans. “It’s okay,” he says, flicking a thumb over one of Nate’s nipples. “You’re doing really good. Do you know what forty-two divided by seven is?”
At first, Nate doesn’t answer. He clutches the arms of Brad’s chair tightly, pressing his chest forward slightly to get more of Brad’s fingers on his nipples. It causes his hips to rock slightly, pressing back against Brad’s cock and reminding it that, yes, they are getting to the sexy part of the sexy game. Nate swallows, resting his head on Brad’s shoulder. “Six?”
Brad tugs at Nate’s nipple lightly, twisting it. It makes Nate gasp, bowing his back. Brad soothes his thumb over the nipple lightly, chasing away the pain. “That’s right,” he whispers into Nate’s ear. He lets his nails scrape slowly in circles around Nate’s nipples, flicking out over the buds roughly. “And forty-eight divided by eight?”
Nate moans softly, trembling under Brad’s fingers, the way Brad knows to tug and twist roughly at his nipples. It’s painfully obvious how hard he is, his cock tenting the front of the skirt obscenely. It amazes Brad that there’s enough fabric to still cover the length of it. “Um,” Nate says, licking his lips and panting harshly, crying out when Brad tugs again, harder. “Um. Eight?”
The wrong answer makes Brad pause, smoothing his hands over Nate’s chest until he can feel the bud of Nate’s nipples in the center of his palms. “No,” he says. He ignores the way Nate is trembling, pressing his chest up uselessly to feel more of Brad’s hands against his nipples. “Try again.”
A small sound escapes Nate. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. He licks his lips, tries again. “Is it seven?”
Brad sighs, kissing Nate’s shoulder lightly. “You were doing so well, too, Miss Fick.”
“It’s okay if you call me Natalie, you know,” Nate says, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t mind. Since you’re helping me out and all.”
Pressing his lips against Nate’s shoulder, Brad hides a grin. He kisses the skin again. “Okay, then, Natalie. Do you want me to show you an easy way to remember your division?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says. “Math’s just so hard - “ an intentional drag of his hips as he sits up again, moving to rub at his own cock. “ - I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to do this.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Brad says. He slides his hands down Nate’s front, tugging his camisole back into place. He thumps Nate’s thighs lightly, rolling his hips up slowly, closing his eyes and biting back a groan. “Why don’t you stand up for a second?”
Nate obeys, standing up carefully. He touches his ass, making sure his skirt is still smoothed down, shooting Brad a shy smile. “What should I do now, Mr. Colbert?”
“I want you to drape yourself over the top of my desk, Natalie. Yeah, just like that.” He watches as Nate bends over, folding his arms and resting his cheek against them, his top half draped over Brad’s desk. Brad leans forward, nudging his keyboard out of the way, and just admires the view.
Nate’s skirt is riding up, and Brad finally, finally gets to see why Nate kept tugging his skirt down to hide what’s underneath. It makes Brad’s breath catch and he has to press a hand to his cock to relieve the sudden hot flush of want and he can’t keep back his moan at all. Nate’s got on panties. Cute lacy green ones, not quite the same shade as his camisole, and there are little pink bows in the center of the back of his thighs. Nate smirks triumphantly when he sees the effect they’re having on Brad and shudders when Brad’s fingers skim just along the elastic, under the curve of his ass.
Brad swallows, but his throat has gone dry again. It takes him a second to remember how to speak, takes even longer when he brushes the dark skirt up Nate’s ass so he can see even more of the panties. There are even more bows, which Brad will mock later, but now he’s far more concerned with the transparency of the lace and cleft of Nate’s ass.
Brad really, really wants to put his mouth there.
Instead, he touches his fingers to the cleft, teasing down slightly until he reaches where he knows Nate’s asshole is. He presses his fingers up, rubbing against Nate through the lace. “So goddamn pretty, Natalie.”
“This isn’t helping me with my math any,” Nate says softly, but he arches back into the touch and groans softly.
“Right.” It takes Brad a moment to work up the will to stop rubbing his fingers against Nate and wheel his chair far enough back for him to stand up. He nudges it further back, so it’s not in the way, and presses himself against Nate, rubbing his dick against Nate’s ass. He grabs Nate’s hips, squeezing lightly. “Spread your legs and I’ll teach you a way to never forget.”
Nate presses his forehead to Brad’s desk, his nails searching for something to hold onto. He spreads his thighs wide, slowly, and Brad watches Nate’s ass and thighs clench and unclench in nervous anticipation. He doesn’t shy away from Brad’s hands cupping his ass, squeezing. “Like this?” Nate whispers, his voice muffled.
“Just like that,” Brad says. He drags his knuckles over Nate’s ass slowly. “Remember what I asked you?” he asks, snapping the elastic of Nate’s panties lightly. “What’s the answer to forty-eight divided by eight? Do you remember what you told me?”
“Eight,” Nate says. He squirms slightly, impatient. “Seven.”
“And do you know what the real answer is?” Brad asks. He watches Nate shake his head, shoulders going tense. “Have you figured out what I’m about to do to you?” This time, Nate nods. “Are you going to stop me?” Again, Brad watches Nate shake his head. “Good. The answer is six. Do you want to know how you’re going to remember that?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Colbert,” Nate breathes. “Please teach me how to remember.”
Brad drags his knuckles across Nate’s ass one last time before pulling back and stepping away. He gives Nate a second for the anticipation to build, for his thighs to tremble, before Brad brings his hand down on Nate’s ass in a hard smack. He uses the flat of his palm, more for the noise, but it still has Nate bucking back against his hand and crying out softly.
“One,” Brad says. He smacks Nate’s ass again, harder, on the other cheek. “Two.” He brings his hand down again a third time, and Nate’s ass is pressing back to feel it before Brad’s hand even comes down. “Three.” Each blow is harder than the next, Brad counting off each one, and by the time Brad reaches six, Nate’s ass is already starting to turn a pretty pink under the panties. Brad stands back and admires his work. “What’s forty-eight divided by eight, Natalie?”
“Six, Mr. Colbert,” Nate says, and he sounds wrecked. “Forty-eight divided by eight is six.”
“Good girl,” Brad murmurs. He hooks his fingers in the elastic band of Nate’s panties, tugging them down the curve of Nate’s ass slowly. It makes Nate cry out, his skin flushed and sensitive and Brad pinches the swell of one cheek roughly. “Do you know what seventy two divided by nine is?”
There’s a long moment of silence where Nate is either trying to remember or trying to control his breathing, his voice. After a moment though, he presses his cheek to the desk and looks back at Brad. “Eight?”
“Are you guessing?” Brad asks, tugging Nate’s panties down the rest of the way. He leaves them tucked under the curve of his ass, and tugs Nate’s hips back away from the desk so he can slide his hands underneath Nate and tug the panties down over Nate’s cock. The front of the panties are soaked through with precome and Brad can’t even imagine the wet itch of lace must feel on Nate’s hot dick.
Nate arches his hips forward to feel Brad’s hand on his cock but Brad just tucks the panties under Nate’s balls and pulls away again. “Yes,” Nate groans out, closing his eyes. “I don’t know, Mr. Colbert, I’m sorry.”
“Well,” Brad says slowly, touching a hand to the hot skin of Nate’s ass. “You were right.” He lets Nate have a moment to tremble, to relax. “You ready for another problem?” Brad asks, and he laughs at Nate’s immediate hiss of yes. “It’s sexy when girls like math,” Brad says.
Nate just pushes his ass back against Brad’s fingers, whining impatiently.
“What’s four hundred and forty-eight divided by twenty-eight?” Brad asks.
Nate’s eyes snap open again, large and shocked. “I - what?” He asks, looking at Brad in confusion. “That wasn’t on the homework, Mr. Colbert - “
“There’s nothing wrong with studying ahead, Natalie,” Brad says, grinning. He backhands Nate’s ass lightly, playfully. “Think of the reward you’ll get if you’re wrong.”
Nate groans, pressing his forehead against the desk again while he tried to think. “I don’t - “ He fists his hands in his hair, trying to think, making a frustrated sound. “Sixteen? No, wait, fourteen.”
For a second, Brad’s not sure whether to laugh or shake his head. “Did you change your answer just so I’d spank you again, Natalie?”
Nate looks over his shoulder, a sly smile on his face. “And if I did?”
Brad grabs Nate’s hips, ducking down to kiss the soft spot behind Nate’s ear. “Then I guess I’m just going to have to spank you anyway for being a naughty little girl. If you wanted to feel my hand on your ass, Natalie, all you had to do was ask.”
Nate licks his lips. “Will you please spank me, Mr. Colbert?”
Brad groans, kissing the spot behind Nate’s eat again, licking his tongue along the shell. He grins when Nate shudders and moans, and presses another kiss to Nate’s skin. “Have you been a bad girl, Natalie? Do you need to be spanked?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Colbert,” Nate groans, pressing his ass back against Brad. “I’ve been a very naughty girl. I’ve been touching myself all day thinking about you bending me over your desk just like this, about how it would feel to have your dick inside me. Please spank me, Mr. Colbert, I deserve it.”
“Fuck yeah, you do,” Brad grunts out. He lets Nate grind against his ass for a bit, nipping and sucking a hickey into the back of Nate’s neck. “Sixteen more spanks,” Brad whispers softly, nosing against the back of Nate’s ear. “Then I’m going to lick open your pretty little ass and fuck you over my desk. Is that what you want, Natalie?”
Nate whimpers in response, trembling under Brad. “Please,” he whispers.
Brad pulls back slowly. He pushes Nate’s skirt further up his back, careful to make sure it stays out of the way, and admires Nate’s ass. He doesn’t warn Nate before he brings his hand down again, hard, and Nate bucks back and cries out. He counts off slowly, calmly, after each hit. Each blow is harder than the last, until even Brad’s hand is hurting from it, but he doesn’t stop.
Nate’s ass and the top of his thighs are such a pretty shade of red. He’s going to have welts, isn’t going to be able to sit down at all, and fuck if that doesn’t turn Brad on. Nate presses back for more, whimpering pathetically, and Brad keeps giving it to him. Even after sixteen strikes, Nate begs for more and Brad is more than willing to give Nate what he wants.
Really, it’s only the fact that Brad is tired of waiting that gets him to stop raining down blows on Nate’s ass. He fumbles behind him for his office chair, dragging it close enough he can collapse in it again. He presses his fingers to the swell of Nate’s ass, and Nate whimpers in response. His face is tear-stained when he looks back at Brad and it shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is.
“Shh,” Brad says softly. He tugs Nate’s panties a little further down his legs, kissing the crease of his thigh and ass lightly. “Such a good girl,” Brad murmurs and Nate whimpers again. He trails his fingers down the cleft of Nate’s ass slowly, before spreading Nate open to look at his hole. Running a thumb over the furled skin lightly, Brad huffs out a rough breath and leans forward and replaces his thumb with his tongue.
He starts slow, easy, just lapping his tongue over Nate’s asshole. He licks a line from the back of Nate’s balls to his hole in a broad stroke, again and again, getting him wet. He tongues at Nate’s hole, spitting on it to slick him up, before pressing his tongue against it, hard. He huffs out a breath when Nate clenches and Brad smacks Nate’s ass lightly in reprimand.
Nate whimpers again in response, but he relaxes. He holds himself still while Brad licks him open, kissing and sucking lightly before plunging in with a speared tongue. Nate presses up onto his tiptoes, urging his ass back for more and Nate moans like a cheap whore every time Brad’s tongue presses inside of him.
When Brad spreads Nate’s hole open with his thumbs to slide his tongue even deeper, Nate howls, hips bucking back for more. Brad fucks Nate thoroughly with his tongue, spitting and slicking him up, alternating between long, broad licks and quick flicks of his tongue. He catches the rim with his teeth, sucking lightly, before he’s back to shoving his tongue in Nate’s ass and making him beg.
It does not count as cheating when Brad slips two fingers inside of Nate alongside his tongue, pressing and rubbing against Nate’s prostate roughly. Not when Nate breaks, whimpering “Brad, please” so prettily and forgoing the game he started. And really, Brad is all too happy to oblige Nate in this way.
He pulls back from Nate, tugging his tee-shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. He watches as Nate shoves aside books and papers, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch as Brad struggle to undo his belt. The thing is evil and takes way longer than it should click open and as soon as he’s free of it he reaches for his button and zipper. He shoves his jeans down his thighs roughly, along with his boxers, doesn’t bother to pull them off.
Jacking his cock slowly, Brad nudges Nate’s thighs apart slowly before he presses in close, rubbing the slick head of his dick against the cleft of Nate’s ass. It makes Nate buck back, grinding his hips up encouragingly, and Brad brings his hand down on Nate’s ass again. Brad grunts when Nate cries out, and he stops teasing and shoves his cock inside of Nate’s hole without a warning.
Nate screams again, for a different reason. Almost immediately, he starts rocking back against Brad’s cock, rolling his hips and fucking himself as best he can pinned to the desk, Brad’s hands on his hips and squeezing tightly. He cries out with every touch to his ass, the skin angry and red, until he bites his lip to keep back the sounds.
Brad grunts, slapping Nate’s ass again. “I want to hear you,” he says. He pulls out of Nate and thrusts back in, the motions of his hips erratic as he does it again and again. He spreads his own thighs and presses in closer to Nate, and he gets deeper, his cock glancing over Nate’s prostate just right on every thrust. “Scream for me, Na - Natalie.”
Nate does. Every slap to his ass and every thrust earns a sharp cry, until the hoarse, desperate sounds Brad is drawing out of Nate’s throat drown out the rough sound of skin on skin slapping together, of the desk banging against the wall and even more books crashing to the floor. Nate screams, and Brad hopes to God no one calls the cops, because gagging Nate would be a fucking crime.
Nate’s so tight and hot around Brad’s dick, on the delicate line of just being slick enough from Brad’s spit and tongue and dry enough for the friction to burn. He clenches around Brad every time Brad pulls out and pushes back desperately to meet him at every thrust. He’s so fucking good that Brad forgets how to breathe, how to do anything but fuck into the tight heat and then he’s coming, like a punch to the gut and he’s gasping for breath.
He can feel each pulse of his cock, pumping his hips into Nate even through his orgasm and Nate drags string after string of come out of Brad until Brad’s balls ache and Nate’s full of it. Brad groans, pulling out of Nate and collapsing back into his chair. His come is already starting to leak out of Nate’s abused ass, and Brad groans. “Touch yourself,” Brad whispers, hoarse. “Fucking come all over your fingers.”
Nate makes a pathetic sound, biting his lip, but he obeys. He spreads his legs wider, slipping a hand between his thighs and shoving his own fingers back inside of his ass, fucking himself roughly as he jerks his cock. His hips buck and roll spastically, torn between his fingers inside of him and on his dick, but it doesn’t take long for Nate to come with a strangled cry. Nate comes across his fist and fingers, on the carpet, and he collapses bodily on top of Brad’s desk when he’s done. His arms fall uselessly at his sides, smearing come all over Brad’s desk.
Brad watches him for a minute, just trying to catch his breath. It’s hard when Nate’s red, abused ass is the center of his vision, when he can see the dark fabric of the skirt all rumpled and the way sweat is slicking down Nate’s back and thighs. Brad leans forward to tug the panties the rest of the way down Nate’s legs, lifting each ankle so he can tug it free before Nate manages to rip them. Really, Brad is surprised the lace has lasted this long.
He tugs his jeans and boxers back up, but doesn’t button them. Fuck if that doesn’t seem too restrictive right now. “You okay, Natalie?” Brad asks softly, teasingly, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of Nate’s neck.
Nate makes a small sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Fuck you,” Nate breathes, his voice wrecked, cracking. “I am never moving again. If you ever want to use your computer again, you’re just going to have to cope.”
Brad considers it for a moment, pushing himself up onto his palms, looking down at Nate. He squeezes the panties still clutched in his fists and grins. “I could certainly think of worse things to spend all my time staring at,” he says. Trailing a finger down Nate’s spine slowly, Brad grins wider, feral. “And you’re certainly much more fun to make my bitch than a computer code.”
The look Nate gives him is absolutely withering, but he’s too exhausted to put much more effort into it than that. His eyes flicker shut and he sucks in a sharp breath. If Brad lets him, he thinks Nate might honestly fall asleep bent over the desk, his thighs spread and come dripping out of his ass. It’d be a pretty sight, but Nate will hate himself - and Brad - in the morning.
“Come on, Nate,” Brad says softly, touching Nate’s hip. “Let’s get you to bed.” He bites his lip at the pathetic sound Nate makes at the prospect of moving, but somehow, together, they manage to get Nate up on his feet. Brad presses a soft kiss against Nate’s temple, squeezing his arm around Nate’s waist.
Their bed always feels so impossibly far away when they need it, but if there’s one thing Brad knows for sure by now, it’s that when they make it to it, it’s always worth it.