(Untitled)

[nothingtomiss]

After he's checked in with Ray and Marissa and thoroughly made sure that Terry's fine, the next stop's a no brainer. In dry clothes (which might yet be a mistake), Brad sets off towards Nate's hut. His combat boots are pretty much damp right the way through at this point, and his pants soak through the knee pretty quickly. The sun's fucking

Comments

[assured_of_this]

"Where else would I be? Remy's busy treating frostbite and school's canceled." Nate's peering out at Brad from around the side of the hut, camo and boots from the waist down, topped by a white t-shirt with mud smudged at the hem. Today is possibly even more surreal than the day before, and out here checking on the few plants he'd been trying to grow, he has to wonder what it's doing to his body when his toes are freezing while his nose gets sun burnt.

[assured_of_this]

"I am a man, Brad," Nate reminds him, although he's certain there was no doubt about it to begin with. "There comes a point when I stop thinking with one head and start thinking with the other." Mostly.

His hands tug Brad's shirt hem free and slip under it to splay against hot skin. "Tell me what you thought about," he murmurs on a forward rock of his hips, and his palms slipping firmly upwards over the smooth planes of Brad's chest and back, touching as much as he can manage, fabric gathering against his wrists.

[nothingtomiss]

"I am aware of that, Nate."

Brad doesn't believe that for a second, doesn't believe that Nate's brain doesn't always have at least a partial say in anything he does. He's not about to argue, though, with Nate's hands sliding over him, his hips grinding forward against him.

"You. Always you. Touching you. Sucking you. Fucking you. You fucking me."

He says it without a hint of self-consciousness. Seems like that time for that has pretty emphatically past.

[assured_of_this]

That goes straight to Nate's head, his cock, his chest; holds the breath taught in his lungs until he pushes it forcefully out in a sharp puff over Brad's mouth. "Can't do everything at once," he insists, hands fisting in cotton before they give Brad a solid shove by the chest, Nate following him down to the bed, mouth hot and insistent, hips tight against the damp fabric over Brad's thigh.

"Make a choice," he continues against the stubble-rough skin of Brad's throat, hand at the top of Brad's pants, working open his belt with surprising dexterity. He tips a wry, smokey gaze up again, and adds, "You're not fucking me today."

[nothingtomiss]

Back on the bed, prone for a minute and off-balance, Brad's head is spinning. It's not like he hasn't given this thought, considerable thought, but he never expected to come to this point, and it's taking him a while to get his bearings.

And today implies that, one day, Nate might let him.

"You're asking me which is more attractive to me right at this moment: you fucking me or you coming in my mouth." He grins up at Nate breathlessly, lifting his hips to his hands. "Unfair, LT."

[assured_of_this]

That snaps Nate to, his hand stilling against the top of Brad's trousers. "Don't call me that," he says with an arch of his eyebrows. "I will fuck you until you can't walk to drag your sorry ass home, Brad, but we're not playing out some commanding officer kink."

[nothingtomiss]

Honestly, it was more force of habit than anything, LT sliding off Brad's tongue easier than 'Nate', still, but Brad still nods.

"Nate, of all the kinks which I am willing to call my own, that is not one of them. At this stage, all I really want if your dick. I'm pretty sure everything else will sort itself out."

[assured_of_this]

"I feel so used," Nate replies, his expression softening into bewildered amusement. "Are you still going to respect me in the morning, Brad? I mean, I know you didn't order me like a pizza, but I like to think I have other redeeming qualities."

[nothingtomiss]

Brad reaches up with one arm, curling it behind Nate's neck and pulling him down for a kiss that's hard and deep.

"I assure you we'll still be able to have a conversation tomorrow," he says, solemnly. "Even if you do fuck me so hard I can't drag my sorry ass home."

[assured_of_this]

"I'm seriously considering it," Nate murmurs against Brad's entirely addictive mouth. "It would be really fucking helpful if I wasn't constantly distracted from getting your clothes off," he breathlessly adds, although he seems to be doing quite well enough in that endeavor one-handed, popping the button on Brad's pants and slowly dragging down the zipper.

[nothingtomiss]

Lifting his hips to make getting him out of his pants easier, Brad half sits up enough to drag his shirt over his head, discarding it.

"I'm sure I never used to be this fucking easy," he says, with a breathless grin.

[assured_of_this]

"Yeah, well, you'd never been faced with so much unbridled Nate Fick charisma before," Nate counters as he seizes hold of both of Brad's waistbands to drag them down muscled thighs. "I usually try to keep it under wraps because people start getting naked when I pass them on the street, men and women both. It was becoming a health hazard- Jesus, I take it back, you are never fucking me," he abruptly declares, staring wide-eyed down at Brad's erection.

[nothingtomiss]

Under Nate's scrutiny, Brad turns long and lazy, curls his fingers around his own dick, stroking slowly, squeezing, trying to get some sense of center in himself. His eyes are back on Nate's face.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were Nate Fick. I thought you were a fucking Recon Marine. Evidently, you're very good at keeping the fact that you're a pussy on the down-low."

[assured_of_this]

That is so thoroughly unimpressive, and Nate's expression communicates such with crystal clarity. The ridiculously sexy way Brad's stroking himself is afforded a brief, impassive glance and nothing more, and if it takes all of Nate's self-restraint to manage his apathy, Brad certainly doesn't need to know. "Does that work on other men? Have you tried it, because I'm genuinely curious to know. Reverse psychology to get you fucked so hard you can't remember your name," he muses with a cant of his head, then pushes himself to his feet again.

"Then again, you seem to be having a pretty good time, there," he continues, casual as he slides his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. "Far be it from me to disturb you."

[nothingtomiss]

"Firstly, I haven't been with a guy who isn't you, right now, since I was seventeen," says Brad, still stroking, eyes still on Nate's face, though he's starting to look faintly amused.

"I'm just saying, Nate. It's not that big, you can take it, and you can do anything you fucking want to me.

He reaches for Nate again, leaning in to kiss him, acutely aware of the fact that hes the only one that's naked here.

[assured_of_this]

"Aren't you accommodating," Nate wryly observes, his gaze steady even after Brad's pulled him in for another kiss. "But you seem to be missing the whole fucking point of the thing." He reaches a hand out, curves it calmly over Brad's wrist, stilling him. "You never answered what you want to do. Although you're obviously trying to provoke me."

Leaning in, he holds Brad's gaze. "Is that what you want, a reaction? Hoping I'll get pissed enough to bend you over and show you who's in charge?"