fic: GK western!AU (13/14)
Jun. 21st, 2010 12:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artWhy does my 'productive' mood icon look like it should read 'ready for an ass-reaming'? Oh, Bradley. Please continue your push-ups. Maybe without all the clothes on, though. This is football, innit? Footballers can't seem to keep their clothes on!
Anyway, busytimes are busy (watching the World Cup and getting drunk by 4pm every day because you know, that is srs work and stuff) but as usual, I find some time during the weekends to hunker down and write :D
Warning warning (or is it advertisement, advertisement?): PORN AHEAD. NC-17, blah blah, all that good stuff. Before we continue though, can I just mention how much trouble I have writing porn? It's so HARD. PUN NOT INITIALLY INTENDED BUT IT KIND OF JUST TURNED THAT WAY AND NOW I'M NOT TAKING IT BACK, HA!
I feel like I should mention again there's a planned sequel to this fic. Okay I mentioned it. Sorry, my Brad/Nate just reaaaally likes to take it's fucking time! I have no control over this. *shakes head sadly*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
In the ensuing calm, the only sounds that can be heard are the quiet ones Brad makes as he rolls gauze around Nate’s thigh.
“I didn’t do anything, you know,” Nate softly breaks the silence.
Brad stills, lifting his eyes from his handiwork to shoot a blank look that prompts Nate to clarify, “I didn’t fuck her. Just…needed to ask her some questions about Bob.”
Nate picks at invisible lint on the blanket for long moments. He seems determined not to meet Brad’s eyes.
Eventually—belatedly—Brad replies, “Oh.”
Nate sighs and lists backwards until his elbows hit the mattress. His head dips back behind his shoulders and at the sight of the soft underbelly of Nate’s chin, Brad returns to the task of bandaging Nate up.
His thoughts, however, begin to wander.
All right, so Nate didn’t fuck Marla. So what? Where Nate decides to stick his dick has fuck-all to do with Brad, yet the simple admission brings up a tangle of feelings that got no right being there.
Relief, mostly. A little giddiness, too.
Brad scissors off the gauze and works a safety pin into the end of it, securing the binding neatly. Doesn’t remove his hand though—instead, absent-mindedly runs his thumb along the edge of the cloth as he thinks.
Well, if Nate wasn’t getting his dick worked back at Sydney’s, then why all the fussing and giggling next door? He distinctly remembers Nate cursing through the wall. Those throaty noises had interrupted Brad’s perfectly straightforward blowjob by conjuring up some mishmash of Nate on his knees instead of Marla…Nate’s eyes watering as his mouth sank down to kiss his belly, chin against his balls…
However, that strange little daydream mid-suck had evaporated like summer rain on sun-hot rocks when the real Nate barged into the room, fuming and so irate like all he wanted to do was skin Brad alive for following him around.
The wooden slats of Brad’s bed makes a creaking noise as Nate shifts on it, head coming up to see what the hold-up is. Only then does Brad notice his hand’s migrated to stroke the taut tendon of Nate’s groin.
“Brad,” Nate says gruffly.
The roughness of the sound surprises him, and when Brad looks up to find Nate watching him with hooded eyes, his cock slowly hardening under Brad’s distracted stroking—
Shit, Brad thinks, snatching his hand back like Nate’s on fire.
Nate bites his lip. He looks disappointed.
Hell, he looks more than disappointed—Nate looks about ready to kill Brad for breaking skin contact, and it’s that transparency in his expression that clears things right up for Brad, quick like a strike of lightning. In fact, Brad hardly knows why it took this long to realize…
This here, Brad on his knees? Nate wants this. Nate wants him.
Sure explains what went down at Sydney’s too. Nate must not’ve like the idea of Brad fucking someone else—plumb busted down their door right off its hinges because Nate—hell, Nate was jealous.
Brad breaks out into a grin. He can feel his canines digging into his lower lip and, judging from what people have told him in the past, he probably looks like he’s about to have Nate for dinner.
Nate blinks at him slowly, movements hazy and slow like they’re underwater. He looks tired, young. A little bit drunk.
It makes Brad’s mouth water.
He feels himself drifting closer to where Nate’s sprawled, knees wide open, cock lying hard and pink against his belly. Brad has to shut his eyes from the sheer wantonness of the sight, but it don’t stop him from ducking his head down to nuzzle the closest stretch of warmth he can find.
He homes in by touch and scent alone, Nate radiating heat and smelling of sweat, though musky sweet beneath it all. He winds up somewhere baby-soft—the exposed skin above Nate’s fresh bandage, at his thigh. Brad's nose lands at the crease where Nate’s leg begins.
Against his face, Nate’s cock bumps into his temple.
Fuck, Brad thinks, turning to drag his lips over the silky length of it. He can’t help it—it’s like he’s gone blind or something, just knows he wants more warmth, more taste, more Nate.
He nips at the base of it, chin nestling down into Nate’s balls. Through the thin, heated skin Brad’s burrowed against, he feels Nate’s pulse quicken.
God, it’s good. It’s really, really good. While sure, Nate tastes like day-old ball sweat, underneath that he tastes like residual soap—like hard-earned work and sunshine, like sex. It’s so fucking hot, Brad could probably get off right now by rutting against one of Nate’s ankles.
Instead of anything so moronic, however, Brad lightly drops down, kissing the loose skin at Nate’s balls, rolling it playfully between his lips. When he hears Nate moan something filthy, Brad mentally pats himself on the back, then opens his mouth to take an entire globe into his mouth.
He suckles at the heft of it for a long, satisfying moment. The light hairs are soft against Brad’s tongue, the taste salty but addictive. Or maybe it’s just Nate’s small noises above him that are addictive. Regardless, Brad doesn’t switch to take the other one in until Nate kicks him with a sharp heel to the backside.
He’s just beginning to really enjoy himself, trousers growing tight in front, when Nate gasps his name, loud and desperate. Brad groans around his mouthful, everything vibrating between his lips. Nate mewls like he’s dying.
God damn, that noise does things to Brad. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night seeing just how many ways he can tempt that sound from Nate—maybe make him call out, too. For all Brad knows, Nate’s a right screamer in bed—s’usually the innocent-looking ones, ain’t it?
Eager to test his theory, Brad licks one last broad swipe across each of Nate’s balls before moving up to press his lips back against the belly of Nate’s dick. Nate twitches and Brad smiles against skin.
He doesn’t want to be a cocktease though, not when Brad’s fully aware of how tenuous the situation is. He better keep Nate delirious with want, because once Nate’s back to using his brain, he’ll probably kick Brad flat on his ass and order him to stay the fuck away. Possibly with another clock to the jaw.
Brad quickly dispels the unpleasant thought, much preferring what’s right in front of him: Nate’s dick is an angry red, leaking clear fluid at the tip. Brad kips up to lap at it, Nate yelping in surprise. Brad quickly does it again, liking the reaction he gets. Does it again. And one more time.
”Brad,” Nate eventually bites out. “Quit playing. I’m gonna come in your eye if you keep that shit up.”
“Bossy, bossy,” Brad drawls rebelliously, but in truth he finds the idea kind of appealing in some dirty-ass, tawdry kind of way. Still, Nate’s not the only one eager to get a move on. Brad’s painfully hard himself.
He makes his move. Without warning, Brad takes as much of Nate into his mouth as he can, swallowing down eagerly. Nate’s good leg kicks out a little and his thighs start to squirm around Brad’s head which is, sure, a real fucking turn-on, but Nate also keeps hitting Brad’s gag reflex, which sucks.
Brad raises up to his knees, holding Nate’s hips down with two braced hands to keep them still. Brad lifts his head, too, but keeps his lips parked just over the helmet of Nate’s prick.
It gives him the breathing room he needs to quickly assess how best to proceed. Rather than letting Nate get himself off by using Brad’s mouth as a prop, Brad wants to make it happen. He excels at everything he does, and if giving an amazing suckjob is gonna be a part of that repertoire, better believe he’s gonna be so good Nate’s never gonna get his dick sucked again without wishing it was Brad.
Nate kicks him again, impatient, so Brad quickly wraps his hand around the length below his stretched lips and slides down, using his spit to get that nice, slippery feeling he always appreciates when it’s him on the other side.
Brad knows he’s doing something right when Nate’s dick twitches in his mouth, and a little spurt of precum lands on his tongue. It tastes a little weird, kinda salty, but he ain’t gonna back out now. Brad just keeps moving, instructing himself up. Down. Up. Down.
It takes a little while for him to get a smooth rhythm going, ‘specially with the way Nate keeps bucking right out of his grip each time some air gets in and makes a particularly lewd slurp, but once Brad gets the hang of it, it’s real good and real fun.
Nate’s getting louder now, choked-off noises between wet, heavy breathing, and Brad’s beginning to think he hit a bull’s eye in suspecting Nate of being a screamer. He bobs his head faster now, jacking his hand real quick ‘cause he wants to make Nate come, wants to confirm his theory beyond a doubt.
“Fuck—“ Nate pants—“Almost there. Just—fucking—“
Brad tries to up his game, the incessant drooling more than enough lube to pump his fist even faster against Nate’s cock, but more and more time’s passing with nothing going, just Brad’s jaw getting sore and Nate grunting at him in frustration. Behind them, the relentless clanking of Nate’s handcuff against the headboard is starting to sound frantic and a little ridiculous.
A hand comes up to the back of Brad’s head and it’s Nate, impatient and reckless as he jerks his hips off the bed and shoves Brad deeper onto his cock.
“Come on, Sheriff,” Nate growls. “Make me come.”
Brad’s vision goes all sorts of blurry, and Nate’s cock is unyielding and harsh against his throat. He starts to gag on it with embarrassing, squelching noises and Nate seems to sense he’s gone too far, hand lifting immediately to tangle in the bedspread.
Brad hastily resurfaces, mouth coming up with a stringy departure. His fist follows, jacking a straight shot up Nate’s prick with all the fluid left there from Brad’s messy sucking, but instead of taking his hand all the way off Brad pauses at the tip, then squeezes back down the neck with an exaggerated twist of his wrist.
Nate shouts.
Brad relishes the way Nate’s flesh feels greased under his tight grip, and when he twists back up to the tip, this time it ain’t just his own fist he’s pulling up.
It catches Brad by surprise—Nate too, from the sound of it—and the first squirt of come splatters somewhere under his chin. He quickly draws back to sit on his heels, but not before the second jet catches Brad on the face, a warm stripe landing on his left cheek.
Brad fists Nate’s spurting cock all the way through his orgasm, the other hand clamped on Nate’s good thigh.
Fuck, even just watching Nate come is almost enough to trigger his own release. Brad’s prick is overheated and uncomfortable in his pants, and the slightest movement he makes has it rubbing against denim. It’s driving him stark raving mad.
Nate’s balls are hardly done emptying before Brad’s hurriedly undoing his own fly with his clean hand. He shoves the cursed denim down over his ass, dragging his underwear down with it into an ungainly tangle around his ankles before he kicks them off to who-knows-where.
Brad’s up on the bed in an instant, kneeing his way up to Nate’s torso until he’s straddling him, holding himself with a tight grip just above his balls so he don’t come prematurely all over Nate’s fine clothes.
“Get it off,” Brad grunts. “Your shirt. Get your fucking shirt open, Nate.”
Nate still looks pretty punched out, but he obliges with fumbling fingers that reveal—much too slowly, like this is some damned striptease—pale, milky-smooth skin from his chest down to his navel. When he’s done, Nate falls back on the bed with a springing bounce and holds his shirt wide open like a sacrifice.
Brad closes his eyes for a long moment. If he keeps looking, he’s gonna shoot too soon.
As it stands, Brad gets his right hand on himself, slicking up with the excess of Nate’s come, which is all over his fingers. There’s a lot spilled on the backside of them too, so Brad wipes his knuckles to get all of it onto his dick.
Brad opens his eyes. Nate’s staring back at him—ain’t even looking at Brad’s dick and the right mess he’s making down there, but staring at him, into his eyes.
He looks real vulnerable. Brad realizes how this must look—now that the fog of sex has passed, Nate’s left with nothing but come drying on his belly and a half-naked man about to jizz all over his chest.
Brad leans down, closer to Nate—buckles down to one elbow beside Nate’s ribcage, the other hand still squeezing the base of his dick.
He opens his mouth to say something reassuring, but at that moment—close enough to catch the scent of Nate on his tongue—Brad realizes he wants to kiss him instead. Lord knows how fucking flower-picking, wine-sipping, Nancy homosexual the idea is, but fucking hell, Brad wants to kiss Nate.
He doesn’t. Nate looks shocked enough as is, so Brad just says, in a whisper for fear his voice might reveal too much—
“This okay?”
Nate’s eyes remain wide, his throat visibly working as he swallows apprehensively, but the small nod he gives is clear as day.
Brad lets himself go, finally. His eyes fall shut as he works himself with the viscous come in his grasp, and it only takes a few quick, hard jacks before he’s marking Nate with his own pent-up release. Doesn’t know if he cries out or anything; there’s a loud, high-pitched ringing in Brad’s ears as he feels his dick pulse four—five times in his hand before petering out to aftershocks that dribble out in leisurely throbs.
When he feels a trail of wetness leak down to his fingers, Brad tiredly opens his eyes.
The sight he’s greeted with is one he’ll probably jerk off to for the rest of his life. Nate’s covered in more spunk than Brad’s wrung out of himself since he were a teenager—though, to be fair, some of it is probably Nate’s, either from his earlier release or dripped off Brad’s hand.
Regardless, it spatters all the way up Nate’s stomach, his chest, his neck.
Brad follows the trails with hungry eyes, liking the way it blends in with Nate’s skin where he’s pale from being covered up by clothes, but contrasting thick and white where Nate’s tanned from the sun, like at his neck.
Brad flicks his eyes up to Nate’s face, inordinately pleased with the high flush he sees there.
Fuck—there’s even a little dab of come there, in a shiny spot right next to the corner of Nate’s lips.
Brad leans down on both his elbows then, careful not to get come on his bedspread or to lean on Nate and get cooling jizz all over his shirtfront. He scoots up a bit until they’re face-level, takes a minute to find his target, then lowers his mouth and hovers for a long, delicious moment where Nate tenses up beneath him before Brad darts his tongue out, lapping up the stray bit of come.
Nate starts, then smiles a little self-consciously and it’d be funny if it didn’t stir up strange feelings in Brad…feelings he scarcely remembers being capable of, for the last time they’d been around, he’d still been in love with his ex-fiancée.
The desire is familiar. That’s recognizable enough, but the tenderness and affection bubbling up feels a little older, a little nostalgic. What really gets him, though, is the way Brad’s throat closes up at the way Nate shyly averts his gaze. He feels too big for his skin, something in his chest threatening to break loose and run hog wild.
That’s real ancient, right there. It’s like déjà-vu or a dream, trying to solidify into something more…but before Brad even has time to interpret it, it’s followed by an involuntary sense of dread.
That full, bursting feeling? Never lead to nothing good. When it was Jennifer, what he got were twin stabs in the back as she ran off with Paul, his own fucking best friend. And while Brad knows Nate ain’t her—that Nate sure as hell won’t betray Brad, not least because there won’t be any promises for him to break—it don’t make the dread any less palpable.
All this here, Nate Fick in his bed and smelling of Brad, s’just a lark, a flight of fancy. Something that’ll pass quicker than a summer thunderstorm. Their story’s got but one possible ending—an end—and it don’t really matter how they get there.
Rather than being hobbling, however, the knowledge is actually kind of freeing. It makes Brad want to do reckless things.
Underneath him, Nate’s lips are bitten red. Brad’s sick of just looking though—been staring at Nate’s damned mouth ever since they met, if he’s being honest with himself—wants to know how they feel underneath his own. Wants to know how Nate tastes, and not just his cock, but how all of Nate tastes.
Brad lowers his mouth, holding it just above Nate’s. Nate’s eyes are still open. His exhales puff against Brad’s face until they suddenly don’t anymore, and Brad realizes in a cold shock of wonder, it’s because Nate’s holding his breath.
Brad kisses him.
Anyway, busytimes are busy (watching the World Cup and getting drunk by 4pm every day because you know, that is srs work and stuff) but as usual, I find some time during the weekends to hunker down and write :D
Warning warning (or is it advertisement, advertisement?): PORN AHEAD. NC-17, blah blah, all that good stuff. Before we continue though, can I just mention how much trouble I have writing porn? It's so HARD. PUN NOT INITIALLY INTENDED BUT IT KIND OF JUST TURNED THAT WAY AND NOW I'M NOT TAKING IT BACK, HA!
I feel like I should mention again there's a planned sequel to this fic. Okay I mentioned it. Sorry, my Brad/Nate just reaaaally likes to take it's fucking time! I have no control over this. *shakes head sadly*
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
In the ensuing calm, the only sounds that can be heard are the quiet ones Brad makes as he rolls gauze around Nate’s thigh.
“I didn’t do anything, you know,” Nate softly breaks the silence.
Brad stills, lifting his eyes from his handiwork to shoot a blank look that prompts Nate to clarify, “I didn’t fuck her. Just…needed to ask her some questions about Bob.”
Nate picks at invisible lint on the blanket for long moments. He seems determined not to meet Brad’s eyes.
Eventually—belatedly—Brad replies, “Oh.”
Nate sighs and lists backwards until his elbows hit the mattress. His head dips back behind his shoulders and at the sight of the soft underbelly of Nate’s chin, Brad returns to the task of bandaging Nate up.
His thoughts, however, begin to wander.
All right, so Nate didn’t fuck Marla. So what? Where Nate decides to stick his dick has fuck-all to do with Brad, yet the simple admission brings up a tangle of feelings that got no right being there.
Relief, mostly. A little giddiness, too.
Brad scissors off the gauze and works a safety pin into the end of it, securing the binding neatly. Doesn’t remove his hand though—instead, absent-mindedly runs his thumb along the edge of the cloth as he thinks.
Well, if Nate wasn’t getting his dick worked back at Sydney’s, then why all the fussing and giggling next door? He distinctly remembers Nate cursing through the wall. Those throaty noises had interrupted Brad’s perfectly straightforward blowjob by conjuring up some mishmash of Nate on his knees instead of Marla…Nate’s eyes watering as his mouth sank down to kiss his belly, chin against his balls…
However, that strange little daydream mid-suck had evaporated like summer rain on sun-hot rocks when the real Nate barged into the room, fuming and so irate like all he wanted to do was skin Brad alive for following him around.
The wooden slats of Brad’s bed makes a creaking noise as Nate shifts on it, head coming up to see what the hold-up is. Only then does Brad notice his hand’s migrated to stroke the taut tendon of Nate’s groin.
“Brad,” Nate says gruffly.
The roughness of the sound surprises him, and when Brad looks up to find Nate watching him with hooded eyes, his cock slowly hardening under Brad’s distracted stroking—
Shit, Brad thinks, snatching his hand back like Nate’s on fire.
Nate bites his lip. He looks disappointed.
Hell, he looks more than disappointed—Nate looks about ready to kill Brad for breaking skin contact, and it’s that transparency in his expression that clears things right up for Brad, quick like a strike of lightning. In fact, Brad hardly knows why it took this long to realize…
This here, Brad on his knees? Nate wants this. Nate wants him.
Sure explains what went down at Sydney’s too. Nate must not’ve like the idea of Brad fucking someone else—plumb busted down their door right off its hinges because Nate—hell, Nate was jealous.
Brad breaks out into a grin. He can feel his canines digging into his lower lip and, judging from what people have told him in the past, he probably looks like he’s about to have Nate for dinner.
Nate blinks at him slowly, movements hazy and slow like they’re underwater. He looks tired, young. A little bit drunk.
It makes Brad’s mouth water.
He feels himself drifting closer to where Nate’s sprawled, knees wide open, cock lying hard and pink against his belly. Brad has to shut his eyes from the sheer wantonness of the sight, but it don’t stop him from ducking his head down to nuzzle the closest stretch of warmth he can find.
He homes in by touch and scent alone, Nate radiating heat and smelling of sweat, though musky sweet beneath it all. He winds up somewhere baby-soft—the exposed skin above Nate’s fresh bandage, at his thigh. Brad's nose lands at the crease where Nate’s leg begins.
Against his face, Nate’s cock bumps into his temple.
Fuck, Brad thinks, turning to drag his lips over the silky length of it. He can’t help it—it’s like he’s gone blind or something, just knows he wants more warmth, more taste, more Nate.
He nips at the base of it, chin nestling down into Nate’s balls. Through the thin, heated skin Brad’s burrowed against, he feels Nate’s pulse quicken.
God, it’s good. It’s really, really good. While sure, Nate tastes like day-old ball sweat, underneath that he tastes like residual soap—like hard-earned work and sunshine, like sex. It’s so fucking hot, Brad could probably get off right now by rutting against one of Nate’s ankles.
Instead of anything so moronic, however, Brad lightly drops down, kissing the loose skin at Nate’s balls, rolling it playfully between his lips. When he hears Nate moan something filthy, Brad mentally pats himself on the back, then opens his mouth to take an entire globe into his mouth.
He suckles at the heft of it for a long, satisfying moment. The light hairs are soft against Brad’s tongue, the taste salty but addictive. Or maybe it’s just Nate’s small noises above him that are addictive. Regardless, Brad doesn’t switch to take the other one in until Nate kicks him with a sharp heel to the backside.
He’s just beginning to really enjoy himself, trousers growing tight in front, when Nate gasps his name, loud and desperate. Brad groans around his mouthful, everything vibrating between his lips. Nate mewls like he’s dying.
God damn, that noise does things to Brad. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night seeing just how many ways he can tempt that sound from Nate—maybe make him call out, too. For all Brad knows, Nate’s a right screamer in bed—s’usually the innocent-looking ones, ain’t it?
Eager to test his theory, Brad licks one last broad swipe across each of Nate’s balls before moving up to press his lips back against the belly of Nate’s dick. Nate twitches and Brad smiles against skin.
He doesn’t want to be a cocktease though, not when Brad’s fully aware of how tenuous the situation is. He better keep Nate delirious with want, because once Nate’s back to using his brain, he’ll probably kick Brad flat on his ass and order him to stay the fuck away. Possibly with another clock to the jaw.
Brad quickly dispels the unpleasant thought, much preferring what’s right in front of him: Nate’s dick is an angry red, leaking clear fluid at the tip. Brad kips up to lap at it, Nate yelping in surprise. Brad quickly does it again, liking the reaction he gets. Does it again. And one more time.
”Brad,” Nate eventually bites out. “Quit playing. I’m gonna come in your eye if you keep that shit up.”
“Bossy, bossy,” Brad drawls rebelliously, but in truth he finds the idea kind of appealing in some dirty-ass, tawdry kind of way. Still, Nate’s not the only one eager to get a move on. Brad’s painfully hard himself.
He makes his move. Without warning, Brad takes as much of Nate into his mouth as he can, swallowing down eagerly. Nate’s good leg kicks out a little and his thighs start to squirm around Brad’s head which is, sure, a real fucking turn-on, but Nate also keeps hitting Brad’s gag reflex, which sucks.
Brad raises up to his knees, holding Nate’s hips down with two braced hands to keep them still. Brad lifts his head, too, but keeps his lips parked just over the helmet of Nate’s prick.
It gives him the breathing room he needs to quickly assess how best to proceed. Rather than letting Nate get himself off by using Brad’s mouth as a prop, Brad wants to make it happen. He excels at everything he does, and if giving an amazing suckjob is gonna be a part of that repertoire, better believe he’s gonna be so good Nate’s never gonna get his dick sucked again without wishing it was Brad.
Nate kicks him again, impatient, so Brad quickly wraps his hand around the length below his stretched lips and slides down, using his spit to get that nice, slippery feeling he always appreciates when it’s him on the other side.
Brad knows he’s doing something right when Nate’s dick twitches in his mouth, and a little spurt of precum lands on his tongue. It tastes a little weird, kinda salty, but he ain’t gonna back out now. Brad just keeps moving, instructing himself up. Down. Up. Down.
It takes a little while for him to get a smooth rhythm going, ‘specially with the way Nate keeps bucking right out of his grip each time some air gets in and makes a particularly lewd slurp, but once Brad gets the hang of it, it’s real good and real fun.
Nate’s getting louder now, choked-off noises between wet, heavy breathing, and Brad’s beginning to think he hit a bull’s eye in suspecting Nate of being a screamer. He bobs his head faster now, jacking his hand real quick ‘cause he wants to make Nate come, wants to confirm his theory beyond a doubt.
“Fuck—“ Nate pants—“Almost there. Just—fucking—“
Brad tries to up his game, the incessant drooling more than enough lube to pump his fist even faster against Nate’s cock, but more and more time’s passing with nothing going, just Brad’s jaw getting sore and Nate grunting at him in frustration. Behind them, the relentless clanking of Nate’s handcuff against the headboard is starting to sound frantic and a little ridiculous.
A hand comes up to the back of Brad’s head and it’s Nate, impatient and reckless as he jerks his hips off the bed and shoves Brad deeper onto his cock.
“Come on, Sheriff,” Nate growls. “Make me come.”
Brad’s vision goes all sorts of blurry, and Nate’s cock is unyielding and harsh against his throat. He starts to gag on it with embarrassing, squelching noises and Nate seems to sense he’s gone too far, hand lifting immediately to tangle in the bedspread.
Brad hastily resurfaces, mouth coming up with a stringy departure. His fist follows, jacking a straight shot up Nate’s prick with all the fluid left there from Brad’s messy sucking, but instead of taking his hand all the way off Brad pauses at the tip, then squeezes back down the neck with an exaggerated twist of his wrist.
Nate shouts.
Brad relishes the way Nate’s flesh feels greased under his tight grip, and when he twists back up to the tip, this time it ain’t just his own fist he’s pulling up.
It catches Brad by surprise—Nate too, from the sound of it—and the first squirt of come splatters somewhere under his chin. He quickly draws back to sit on his heels, but not before the second jet catches Brad on the face, a warm stripe landing on his left cheek.
Brad fists Nate’s spurting cock all the way through his orgasm, the other hand clamped on Nate’s good thigh.
Fuck, even just watching Nate come is almost enough to trigger his own release. Brad’s prick is overheated and uncomfortable in his pants, and the slightest movement he makes has it rubbing against denim. It’s driving him stark raving mad.
Nate’s balls are hardly done emptying before Brad’s hurriedly undoing his own fly with his clean hand. He shoves the cursed denim down over his ass, dragging his underwear down with it into an ungainly tangle around his ankles before he kicks them off to who-knows-where.
Brad’s up on the bed in an instant, kneeing his way up to Nate’s torso until he’s straddling him, holding himself with a tight grip just above his balls so he don’t come prematurely all over Nate’s fine clothes.
“Get it off,” Brad grunts. “Your shirt. Get your fucking shirt open, Nate.”
Nate still looks pretty punched out, but he obliges with fumbling fingers that reveal—much too slowly, like this is some damned striptease—pale, milky-smooth skin from his chest down to his navel. When he’s done, Nate falls back on the bed with a springing bounce and holds his shirt wide open like a sacrifice.
Brad closes his eyes for a long moment. If he keeps looking, he’s gonna shoot too soon.
As it stands, Brad gets his right hand on himself, slicking up with the excess of Nate’s come, which is all over his fingers. There’s a lot spilled on the backside of them too, so Brad wipes his knuckles to get all of it onto his dick.
Brad opens his eyes. Nate’s staring back at him—ain’t even looking at Brad’s dick and the right mess he’s making down there, but staring at him, into his eyes.
He looks real vulnerable. Brad realizes how this must look—now that the fog of sex has passed, Nate’s left with nothing but come drying on his belly and a half-naked man about to jizz all over his chest.
Brad leans down, closer to Nate—buckles down to one elbow beside Nate’s ribcage, the other hand still squeezing the base of his dick.
He opens his mouth to say something reassuring, but at that moment—close enough to catch the scent of Nate on his tongue—Brad realizes he wants to kiss him instead. Lord knows how fucking flower-picking, wine-sipping, Nancy homosexual the idea is, but fucking hell, Brad wants to kiss Nate.
He doesn’t. Nate looks shocked enough as is, so Brad just says, in a whisper for fear his voice might reveal too much—
“This okay?”
Nate’s eyes remain wide, his throat visibly working as he swallows apprehensively, but the small nod he gives is clear as day.
Brad lets himself go, finally. His eyes fall shut as he works himself with the viscous come in his grasp, and it only takes a few quick, hard jacks before he’s marking Nate with his own pent-up release. Doesn’t know if he cries out or anything; there’s a loud, high-pitched ringing in Brad’s ears as he feels his dick pulse four—five times in his hand before petering out to aftershocks that dribble out in leisurely throbs.
When he feels a trail of wetness leak down to his fingers, Brad tiredly opens his eyes.
The sight he’s greeted with is one he’ll probably jerk off to for the rest of his life. Nate’s covered in more spunk than Brad’s wrung out of himself since he were a teenager—though, to be fair, some of it is probably Nate’s, either from his earlier release or dripped off Brad’s hand.
Regardless, it spatters all the way up Nate’s stomach, his chest, his neck.
Brad follows the trails with hungry eyes, liking the way it blends in with Nate’s skin where he’s pale from being covered up by clothes, but contrasting thick and white where Nate’s tanned from the sun, like at his neck.
Brad flicks his eyes up to Nate’s face, inordinately pleased with the high flush he sees there.
Fuck—there’s even a little dab of come there, in a shiny spot right next to the corner of Nate’s lips.
Brad leans down on both his elbows then, careful not to get come on his bedspread or to lean on Nate and get cooling jizz all over his shirtfront. He scoots up a bit until they’re face-level, takes a minute to find his target, then lowers his mouth and hovers for a long, delicious moment where Nate tenses up beneath him before Brad darts his tongue out, lapping up the stray bit of come.
Nate starts, then smiles a little self-consciously and it’d be funny if it didn’t stir up strange feelings in Brad…feelings he scarcely remembers being capable of, for the last time they’d been around, he’d still been in love with his ex-fiancée.
The desire is familiar. That’s recognizable enough, but the tenderness and affection bubbling up feels a little older, a little nostalgic. What really gets him, though, is the way Brad’s throat closes up at the way Nate shyly averts his gaze. He feels too big for his skin, something in his chest threatening to break loose and run hog wild.
That’s real ancient, right there. It’s like déjà-vu or a dream, trying to solidify into something more…but before Brad even has time to interpret it, it’s followed by an involuntary sense of dread.
That full, bursting feeling? Never lead to nothing good. When it was Jennifer, what he got were twin stabs in the back as she ran off with Paul, his own fucking best friend. And while Brad knows Nate ain’t her—that Nate sure as hell won’t betray Brad, not least because there won’t be any promises for him to break—it don’t make the dread any less palpable.
All this here, Nate Fick in his bed and smelling of Brad, s’just a lark, a flight of fancy. Something that’ll pass quicker than a summer thunderstorm. Their story’s got but one possible ending—an end—and it don’t really matter how they get there.
Rather than being hobbling, however, the knowledge is actually kind of freeing. It makes Brad want to do reckless things.
Underneath him, Nate’s lips are bitten red. Brad’s sick of just looking though—been staring at Nate’s damned mouth ever since they met, if he’s being honest with himself—wants to know how they feel underneath his own. Wants to know how Nate tastes, and not just his cock, but how all of Nate tastes.
Brad lowers his mouth, holding it just above Nate’s. Nate’s eyes are still open. His exhales puff against Brad’s face until they suddenly don’t anymore, and Brad realizes in a cold shock of wonder, it’s because Nate’s holding his breath.
Brad kisses him.
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 04:10 am (UTC)Seriously woman, option 2, duh.
Brad leans down on both his elbows then, careful not to get come on his bedspread or to lean on Nate and get cooling jizz all over his shirtfront. He scoots up a bit until they’re face-level, takes a minute to find his target, then lowers his mouth and hovers for a long, delicious moment where Nate tenses up beneath him before Brad darts his tongue out, lapping up the stray bit of come.
Mmmmmmmmmm, indeed.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:32 am (UTC)Haha, I know right??
I'm glad you approve of slutty!Brad and spunkcovered!Nate.
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Date: 2010-06-22 03:07 am (UTC)The day I don't I'm probably dead. READ PORN AT MY FUNERAL OKAY?
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Date: 2010-06-21 04:46 am (UTC)This may have been hard to write. But to read, no.
JFC, this is freaking freaking hot. And IC. And appropriate and a fantastic payoff to all the build-up, not to mention so full of desire and trepidation and aggression and tenderness and just, guh, IT IS GOOD. SO VERY GOOD.
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Date: 2010-06-22 12:33 am (UTC)YAY! I get so worried I'm dragging out the UST and that this porn didn't help because Brad gets all emo at the end. I don't know what it is, but I simply can't get the boys to admit to liking each other any quicker!! I feel like I'm shooing them along with a broom :0
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Date: 2010-06-21 05:11 am (UTC)SOME OF US ARE JUST FINE WITH THIS STATE OF AFFAIRS.
Nate pick at invisible lint on the blanket for long moments. He seems determined not to meet Brad’s eyes.
Think you mean Nate 'picks' at the lint. And I kind of adore that Nate won't meet Brad's eyes because he didn't fuck her.
Also, JFC, HOT. Brain-meltingly hot.
Nate mewls like he’s dying.
God damn, that noise does things to Brad. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night seeing just how many ways he can tempt that sound from Nate—maybe make him call out, too. For all Brad knows, Nate’s a right screamer in bed—s’usually the innocent-looking ones, ain’t it?
Hee! And YES, yes, it is.
Rather than letting Nate get himself off by using Brad’s mouth as a prop, Brad wants to make it happen. He excels at everything he does, and if giving an amazing suckjob is gonna be a part of that repertoire, better believe he’s gonna be so good Nate’s never gonna get his dick sucked again without wishing it was Brad.
Heh. How very Brad. Man's got priorities.
Aww, but we didn't get to learn if Nate's a screamer. ::thinks:: Obviously more research is necessary. Yes.
The desire is familiar. That’s recognizable enough, but the tenderness and affection bubbling up feels a little older, a little nostalgic. What really gets him, though, is the way Brad’s throat closes up at the way Nate shyly averts his gaze. He feels too big for his skin, something in his chest threatening to break loose and run hog wild.
And now I have melted into a puddle of goo. POOR BRAD! Having all these inconvenient feelings.
Nate’s eyes are still open. His exhales puff against Brad’s face until they suddenly don’t anymore, and Brad realizes in a cold shock of wonder, it’s because Nate’s holding his breath.
Brad kisses him.
SO MUCH LOVE! Of course they get to the fucking before the kissing! And then get all hesitant about the kissing, even though they're covered in each other's come. Oh, BOYS.
I did mention that this is freaking hot, yes? Because YES. I approve. DAMN.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:39 am (UTC)Think you mean Nate 'picks' at the lint.
Thanks!! Fixed. And yis, Nate is embarrassed because he's worried Brad might realize that instead of fucking Marla, HE was the one perving on Brad having actual sex. N'awwww Nate, our little boy scout voyeur.
POOR BRAD! Having all these inconvenient feelings.
I know!! I feel like it's so tempting to write Brad as this omnipotent, bad-ass hottie (which he is, don't get me wrong), but I keep trying to remind myself he's actually kind of a fucked up guy in the show. All that baggage with his ex and stuff, so I think this was the first time in the fic that information was relevant, so I played in the sandbox :)
And then get all hesitant about the kissing, even though they're covered in each other's come.
HEEE That is just about the most adorable (and slutty) image XDXDXD
no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 04:59 am (UTC)YAY!
I have a nasty habit of never finishing WIPs
Oh, God, don't tell me that!
all your gorgeous insight and excitement makes me excited in turn to keep the story developing
::smooches:: I know just how you feel! It's like a self-replenishing fannish high; it spawned great fic back when the mini first aired. Good times.
Nate is embarrassed because he's worried Brad might realize that instead of fucking Marla, HE was the one perving on Brad having actual sex. N'awwww Nate, our little boy scout voyeur.
I kind of love that. There's something about the implicit infringement of it; I like that Nate's aware enough of it to be embarrassed.
I keep trying to remind myself he's actually kind of a fucked up guy in the show.
Brad is SO fucked up. It's great that you bring that in (if heartbreaking) because one characterization of him that can feel a bit off to me is when he's portrayed as simply the badass hottie. I mean, he is, but he's also magnificently fucked up and broken in some ways. And that's what makes him interesting.
So yes, much love for this.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 06:53 am (UTC)But, oh my. It was so amazingly hot, and then there was Brad and all his vulnerability and hesitancy about the goddamned kissing, and I have read the last few paragraphs about ten times already. I keep scrolling back up.
Also, Brad is clearly not the only one with new fantasy material. Just saying.
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Date: 2010-06-22 12:42 am (UTC)I know!! This cracky western!fic makes it so easy to just paint Brad as this bad-ass sheriff who knows what he wants and gets it, but I keep having to remind myself he's got major relationship issues in the show. This was the first time I got to bring it up in the story, so that was a lot of fun (and meta!) to write :D
Also, Brad is clearly not the only one with new fantasy material. Just saying.
Bwahhaha that's what all of Nate's staring was for!!!!!!!!! If we could get into his brain this scene, he would've just been "GUH. DROOL. YES PLEASE. MORE!"
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 09:57 am (UTC)Oh no! More longing and wanting and boys being badass... How will we cope? :-)You obviously trying to kill us with the hot. I'm perfectly fine with that.
It gives him the breathing room he needs to quickly assess how best to proceed. Rather than letting Nate get himself off by using Brad’s mouth as a prop, Brad wants to make it happen. He excels at everything he does, and if giving an amazing suckjob is gonna be a part of that repertoire, better believe he’s gonna be so good Nate’s never gonna get his dick sucked again without wishing it was Brad.
This here is SO Brad. Of course he would want to make sure he's the best at everything.
“Get it off,” Brad grunts. “Your shirt. Get your fucking shirt open, Nate.”
This really shouldn't be anywhere near as hot as I find it to be.
All this here, Nate Fick in his bed and smelling of Brad, s’just a lark, a flight of fancy. Something that’ll pass quicker than a summer thunderstorm. Their story’s got but one possible ending—an end—and it don’t really matter how they get there.
Oh Brad. Break my heart, why don't you.
All I can say is this was hot and beautiful and achy and more, please.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:44 am (UTC)It should!!!! Hot is good XD And hey, I'm just writing out what I wish the boys would get up to behind our backs, so clearly you are not the only one envisioning Brad ordering Nate's clothes off with too much clarity >_<
All I can say is this was hot and beautiful and achy and more, please.
Thank you, sweetie ;_; I get so nervous writing these climactic (no pun!!) relationship-development scenes because there's so much pressure riding on them to make sense and be impactful. So I'm really really REALLY glad it worked for you!!
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Date: 2010-06-21 07:50 pm (UTC)I love that line <3
And I'm sorry you had so much trouble writing it but I think I can speak for all of us when I say we enjoyed it xDD
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Date: 2010-06-22 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 12:49 am (UTC)So yeah, needless to say I'm very encouraged by your reassurances!
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Date: 2010-06-22 10:14 pm (UTC)