Brad is not watching Nate's tongue as it licks up and down the length of a cherry popsicle. He's not watching when he slides it all the way down his fucking throat or when he pulls it out with a loud pop. Not even, when his tongue isn't quick enough and the popsicle begins to melt, the way Nate switches hands and sucks each of his fingers clean. Slowly, like he's savouring it. He doesn't stare at Nate's stained lips, wet with saliva and sugar (or imagine what they would taste like - although, cherries, probably).
He especially doesn't think of all the combat jacks he's had imagining those sweet, cock-sucking lips doing exactly what they were made for.
Brad shifts on his side of the sofa, angling his hips away from Nate's line of vision, just in case his wetsuit betrays him and makes it look like he's been having such thoughts. He unzips the wetsuit down to his waist and folds the sleeves over his lap, just to be double-sure. Nate looks up briefly from his paper work, glancing up at him to see what the commotion is about just as his
( ... )
Brad fucks his tongue into Nate's mouth just as Nate grabs a fistful of Brad's wetsuit and pulls his hips down against him. It's like that for awhile - grinding against one another, needy for a better angle while Brad mouths along Nate's jaw, his throat. Brad's heart is thumping so loudly in his chest he can feel it. When Nate's hands slip from Brad's waist and palm his cock, his bites down at Nate's throat and moans. It takes him barely a second to recover and as he pulls away, he practically rips Nate's shirt as he tugs it over his head. They need to move.
Nate grunts loudly as Brad leans him further over the back of the sofa so he can manoeuvre his thighs between Nate's until Brad is crouching over top of him, toes perched barely on the edge, and hoists Nate's legs around his waist. With better access, Brad leans forward and scrapes his teeth and tongue across Nate's stomach, leaving a red streak across pale skin. Nate's breath is rough and laboured. "Brad! Fuck… fucking please"Now I know your mother taught you to say please, so
( ... )
"Oh god-" Nate's head falls back over the sofa and Brad fists a hand in his hair, dragging him back so he can watch him, eyes half-lidded and looking delirious. He keeps eye contact as he twists his fingers around their cocks, watching every twitch that flickers across Nate's face. When his breathing becomes erratic and his eyes fall shut, Brad knows Nate's close, so he tightens his grip and pumps once, twice and Nate lets out a cry, coming all over Brad's chest. He strokes Nate through his orgasm and then focuses his fingers around himself, hard; the sight of Nate panting, lips bruised and covered in his own come and sticky red stains - all the while watching Brad's hand as he fucks into it, is the last thing Brad sees before his own orgasm tears through his body. He makes a strangled noise and collapses, Nate's body squished painfully beneath his as he tries to catch his breath
( ... )
Nate's cocksucking lips may be an old kink at this point, but damn if isn't still hotter than hell! Especially "having his face fucked by a frozen treat" (HAH! Oh, Brad...) and trying to call Brad's attention... And the moaning. Yeah, okay, I can see how Brad would feel the need to jump him RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
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He especially doesn't think of all the combat jacks he's had imagining those sweet, cock-sucking lips doing exactly what they were made for.
Brad shifts on his side of the sofa, angling his hips away from Nate's line of vision, just in case his wetsuit betrays him and makes it look like he's been having such thoughts. He unzips the wetsuit down to his waist and folds the sleeves over his lap, just to be double-sure. Nate looks up briefly from his paper work, glancing up at him to see what the commotion is about just as his ( ... )
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Nate grunts loudly as Brad leans him further over the back of the sofa so he can manoeuvre his thighs between Nate's until Brad is crouching over top of him, toes perched barely on the edge, and hoists Nate's legs around his waist. With better access, Brad leans forward and scrapes his teeth and tongue across Nate's stomach, leaving a red streak across pale skin. Nate's breath is rough and laboured. "Brad! Fuck… fucking please"Now I know your mother taught you to say please, so ( ... )
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Nothing here that is not hot.
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Nate's cocksucking lips may be an old kink at this point, but damn if isn't still hotter than hell! Especially "having his face fucked by a frozen treat" (HAH! Oh, Brad...) and trying to call Brad's attention... And the moaning. Yeah, okay, I can see how Brad would feel the need to jump him RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
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I think fandom likes Nate's mouth red and wet as much as Brad does!
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AHAHAHA! The realization makes this.
"Marine, you need to go back to basic training if it took you that long to-"
As does Nate teasing on purpose. Awesome.
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