![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artI've been apartment hunting. The one I saw today was in a not-so-great neighborhood, and when I walked up to the steps there were two crotchedy old men on the stoop. One man was blind in one eye, all whited out, and the other man was missing an eye altogether. The apartment windows were duct-taped together, and the roof access (via fire escape) was, as the would-be-roommate put it, "totally safe, probably."
So, the search continues.
Meanwhile, a new chapter of western!AU. It's a meaty one, too. As usual, I'm rubbish with emotional dialogue, so let me know if anything seems heavy-handed. I'm sure some of it is, since I always tend to make my characters too emo during a first draft :O
The West Coast Two-Step: Part One
MASTER POST
The West Coast Two-Step: Part Two
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
Inside their hotel room, Nate finds Brad rummaging through the closet, pulling shirts off hangers.
Nate asks blankly, “What are you doing?”
It’s a dumb question though, because he has eyes and he can see perfectly well that Brad’s travel bags are gawping open on his mattress. He is preparing to leave—possibly tonight, if his hustle is anything to go by.
“I’m securing the AO,” Brad replies. “Now that Roth can recognize me, I can’t stay. Can’t have him getting curious, poking into my business. It’d jeopardize the mission.”
This must be the hostility Ray warned him about—Brad’s indifferent tone does a piss-poor job of masking his anger, and every curt, efficient move Brad makes as he whisks his shirts into his bags is laced with resentment.
Nate pulls off his top hat and throws it onto the bed. “Aren’t you taking this a little too far?”
Brad’s only response is to walk out of the conversation and into the bathroom.
Nate scowls, then stalks after him. He adds with raised voice, “The chances of Roth coming inside are slim to none, and even then—what does he care if we’re rooming together?”
He carefully avoids mention that Roth would, in fact, be quite livid. But that’s beside the point—the point being that Brad is overreacting, and he doesn’t need to leave.
Inside the tile bathroom, Brad is crouched by the sink, sifting through laundry with movements so measured, Nate can tell it’s killing him not to pitch the whole hamper out the window. Or at Nate.
Ever the Iceman. Nate leans into the doorway, forearms on either side of the wooden frame, and huffs impatiently.
“Would you say something, already?”
Brad abruptly stands up, turning to face Nate with an armful of wrinkled clothing as he crosses the tile. “Leslie Roth might not care about you having a roommate, but you neglected the part where he knows we’re basically fucking. If he sees any more evidence of my involvement in your life, he’s one step away from sussing out that I’m the fucking sheriff of Washoe County, and you’re my new, government-approved, U.S. Marshal sugar daddy. Ergo, I make myself scarce.”
He holds himself steady before Nate, like he’s waiting for a train to pass. Like there’s nothing further to discuss and Nate will just roll over, let him walk out.
Not fucking likely.
Brad turns his head a fraction to the side—no eye contact, though they’re close enough to kiss—and says into Nate’s ear, “By the way, if you think I’m taking things too far for the sake of the mission…” Brad pauses to wet his lips. “It’s only ‘cause I learn from the best.”
The accusation is clear, and Nate feels himself grow warm as Brad’s gaze sweeps over Nate, lingering over the side of his neck before tracking up to his mouth.
When their eyes meet, Brad looks downright dangerous.
“You smell like him,” Brad growls. “And you’re drunk.”
Fuck. From the way he’s gone a little dizzy, Nate will allow some truth to Brad’s words. He drops his arms in defeat, hoping Brad will shove past and they can both sleep this off, but no such luck. In one short-tempered move, Brad throws his laundry back in the direction of the hamper, the bundle flying apart as shirts and jeans flutter to the ground.
“You reek of his pompous, dicksuck cologne,” Brad hisses, dragging Nate in with a fistful of shirt. Buries his nose behind Nate’s ear and audibly inhales, long and deep before continuing, “You’re sweating alcohol. And you smell like spit.”
Nate opens his mouth to protest, but a sharp nip to his earlobe makes him gasp instead.
“Did you fuck him?” Brad whispers, the words hot against Nate’s ear. “No—of course not, look at you.” He rears back and cups his hand under Nate’s jaw, lifting up to expose the tender hickey on the side of Nate’s neck.
“He fucked you, didn’t he,” Brad says hoarsely. “And you let him. Anything for the mission, right? Because sleeping with me would just make you a pillow-biter, but sleeping with Roth makes you a goddamned patriot.”
Nate jerks his head out of Brad’s grasp.
“You don’t speak to me like this, Special Deputy.”
Brad pushes him—actually shoves him, like they’re in some stinking saloon about to start smashing chairs. “Unless you’ve forgotten, you begged me to come out here. If I knew what the job was gonna be like, I never would’ve signed up.”
“What did you expect?” Nate straightens his lapels with an angry snap of his wrists. “What, did you think I was asking you out to the state fair? I’m not your fucking sweetheart. All I needed was a good lawman, and that’s who I thought I hired. Don’t turn this into anything more than that. Because it wasn’t.”
Brad reels back, and Nate knows it’s a low blow, especially since they both know perfectly well there is more than just business between them. If it’ll give Nate some room to breathe though, even for half a goddamned second, he’ll take it.
Nate swivels around and hastily undoes his bowtie, scrambling to rid himself of his tight collar as he re-enters the bedroom. Sets work on the front buttons of his tailcoat when Brad says from behind, his words clear as a bell.
“You know what? Leslie Roth might be a drug-dealing rat bastard who doesn’t give a shit about anything except where to wet his whistle, but at least he has the balls to go after what he wants.”
Nate gapes in disbelief, then turns around to stomp right back up into Brad’s space. “You think that takes balls? Running around, doing what you want, consequences be damned—you think that’s something a man does? Do you have any idea the balls it takes not to do what you want?”
Brad swallows. Nate can see his throat work. God, his eyes are so fucking blue when they’re wide like that.
They’re magnetic, and before Nate knows it he’s grabbed the front of Brad’s shirt and hauled him down for a kiss. Their noses collide at first, but Brad steadies Nate with two hands on his shoulders and gives it right back, kissing him hard enough Nate can feel the ridges of their teeth between them.
He has a split second of indecision, eyes fluttering open to behold Brad’s blurry face. Brad makes a soft grunt like he can feel the hesitation and slides his hands forward to cradle Nate’s jaw, holding him there. He angles them both and eases back into another kiss, and this time they slot together just right, Nate sinking in like Brad’s quicksand.
Oh, Nate thinks. It’s good. It’s really, really good.
When Brad thumbs down on Nate’s jaw, like he’s trying to get him to open his mouth, or move, or something, Nate comes to and starts participating. Plasters himself to Brad’s front like he’s trying to meld them together and opens his mouth—finds Brad’s tongue with his own, the both of them pushing and pulling against each other like waves.
Brad tastes familiar, like something rediscovered. He tastes like tobacco, too, sickly sweet and bitter, which Brad only chews when he’s bored or pissed off. It’s probably the latter, so Nate apologizes by pulling away just long enough to say—to beg, if anyone’s keeping track—
“I wanna fuck you,” Nate pants. He fuses back to Brad’s mouth, knocking him back a step from the force of it. He can feel Brad freeze up under him, and fuck, Nate doesn’t even know if Brad does that, so he hastily breaks the kiss to amend, “Or hell, if you want, you can fuck me.”
Jesus Nate hears Brad mutter under his breath, ears gone red at the tips. The sight delights Nate to no end.
“Come on, sheriff,” he laughs breathlessly, turning his body to buckle onto the pile of laundry where he flops backwards, buttons and awkward lumps of fabric knuckling against his back. He could care less though, just yanks Brad down between Nate’s outstretched legs, Brad’s knees lost among all the clothes.
“You’re killing me,” Brad groans, but he doesn’t seem too put out. He falls over Nate, his palm briefly skidding on a stray sleeve before finding purchase on cold tile, while Brad’s other hand wrests free the buttons of Nate’s vest and shirt.
He makes quick work and splays a warm, calloused palm over Nate’s stomach. Nate sucks in a breath at the bare contact and Brad’s gaze trips south, snagging where his hand’s hidden beneath the layers of Nate’s clothes.
Whatever he’s found there clearly entrances him, Brad’s focus unwavering from the soft bellows of Nate’s respiration.
It takes ages, but Brad eventually realizes he’s being observed. His face colors with embarrassment, which he tries to play off by reclaiming his hand and drawling, “Get these pussy clothes off. You’re making my dick soft.”
“Liar,” Nate says triumphantly. He knows, because he’s reached for Brad’s dick and it’s hard as a rock, even through all that denim.
“Okay, maybe,” Brad concedes. He leans down and playfully tweaks Nate’s nipple, earning a small yelp. Nate squirms around, protecting the sensitive nubs by rolling over.
Brad’s on him in an instant, his giant body nearly crushing Nate to a pancake but Nate props himself up to his hands and knees, and then their bodies curl into each other, Brad’s hard-on rubbing against Nate’s ass.
“Christ, Brad,” Nate swears, thoughts jumbling in his head until the only thing that makes sense is Brad’s moist breath against his ear, Brad’s hips rutting against Nate’s.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” Brad says, like he’s trying to tease but it comes out desperate instead.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Nate grits out, but he heeds the entreaty and shoves Brad off of him to shrug out of his coat, vest, and shirt all at once, the layers peeled off, inside-out, until he’s naked from the waist up. He tosses the messy tangle of clothes somewhere indeterminate.
Behind him, the buckle on Brad’s belt jangles loudly, followed by the slither-whip of leather being yanked free from belt loops. Nate tries to twist around for a look, but Brad’s hand settles on the back of his head, keeping him still as Nate feels him lean over.
Brad’s erection makes itself known against Nate’s ass, even through the bulky denim. Jesus, they’re actually doing this, aren’t they? Nate squirms a bit, suddenly anxious—but then there’s a swirl of tongue around the topmost knob of Nate’s spine, whiting out all sentience, Nate’s body lighting up like a firecracker.
”Brad,” he whines, body jumping under the next warm, wet lick.
Brad leans his forehead between Nate’s heaving shoulder blades and presses a helpless kiss there, mumbling his name with a few gods and fucks tossed in for good measure. Their hips rock back and forth, never stopping, not even for Brad to take his dick out. Brad rests his stubble-rough cheek against the naked skin of Nate’s back, letting Nate carry his weight while he fumbles his jeans open.
Nate fights down a wave of excitement when Brad is back, but without the hard folds of denim. His dick is bare and rubbing off on Nate’s expensive trousers, probably leaking all over them out of spite. Nate reaches back and shoves his trousers down over his ass, but the fabric keeps hiking back up, thwarting Nate completely.
Above him, Brad chuckles and wraps his arms around Nate’s waist, blindly thumbing his trousers open for him. Then, in one gloriously effective move, he yanks them, along with Nate’s shorts, down to his thighs.
Feeling suddenly, thoroughly exposed, Nate hopes his rump isn’t quivering in the open air. Brad isn’t saying anything though, or doing anything, so Nate bites his lip and twists around to look…
Brad’s eyes are hooded as he watches Nate’s face, and he’s panting hard as if he’s just ridden thirty miles on bucking horseback when they haven’t really done anything but kiss and writhe against each other.
Better yet, Brad’s fisting himself, the shiny head of his dick slipping in and out of view between his fingers. It’s the only part that’s overtly sexual, however; with all of Brad’s clothes still on, he might as well have just stepped into the bathroom to take a leak, only to find Nate on hands and knees in a heap of dirty laundry, ass-up for plowing like it’s something he does on a regular basis. (Like it’s something he’s done, ever.)
Oh God, the thought occurs to him—that’s what they’re doing, isn’t it? Yeah, Nate asked for it, but is he really about to make true everything that’s been slung at him in slander over the past year?
But then he looks up at Brad towering behind him, his expression soft but intent, and is filled with so much—fuck, he doesn’t even know—so much feeling, that it takes precedence over all the nagging voices telling Nate this is supposed to be wrong.
“Come on,” Nate eventually says, and he doesn’t know why he’s whispering. Maybe it’s because Brad’s eyes have begun to crinkle in worry, like he’s having second thoughts. Nate doesn’t want him to have second thoughts. “Come here,” he says again, a little louder.
Brad blinks, resolute expression returning in full. He jerks himself a little faster and leans forward to brace himself on one arm, cotton shirt draping over Nate’s bare back before Brad follows it more heavily, chest pressing down behind him.
“That’s it,” Nate coaxes. “I wanna feel you.”
He wills his body not to tense up when Brad holds himself in one hand, running the tip of his cock along the cleft of Nate’s ass in long, slow strokes, like a paintbrush. Brad’s being gentle, even though he must be so fucking turned on if the sheer amount of leakage is anything to go by.
And still, Brad continues to keep himself at bay, now drawing wet little circles around Nate’s hole. This goes on so long Nate almost wants him to just push inside, wants to feel something more than this drawn out, unbearable tease.
”Brad,” Nate chokes out. “What are you—“
“You’re too much,” Brad responds tightly. “I’m not—not gonna last long.”
“So do it already.”
Behind him, Nate hears Brad hock saliva into his palm, followed by the wet sound of Brad jacking himself, getting himself slick for the only thing that could possibly come next.
Nate closes his eyes and lets his head drop down between his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing under control. He’s not going to lie to himself—he’s fucking nervous.
He feels Brad kiss him somewhere close to his shoulder, large hands smoothing up and down the sides of Nate’s body as he fits their hips back together, his dick a heavy presence, warm and hard. Slippery, too, as it rocks up and down the groove of Nate’s ass.
“Shh now,” Brad shushes, and Nate would be indignant at being treated like some virginal bride, were he not so focused on what comes next.
But then Brad brushes one more kiss to the back of Nate’s neck and tells him, “Calm down. I already told you—ain’t gonna last long.”
At that, Brad bears down and starts to thrust himself against Nate, quickly and in earnest.
God, it’s so different from wondering about this to actually doing it. The skin of Brad’s dick is so much smoother, so much hotter than he’d even thought to categorize, the warm heft of his balls a surprising tickle as they rock above Nate’s own. Brad’s jeans are coarse against the vulnerable backs of Nate’s thighs, and Nate feels his own dick revive when he realizes, with no small amount of relief, that Brad intends to get off on just frottage.
When Brad makes a small, quiet grunt like he’s close, Nate feels his arousal flood back in full, the weight of it swaying with the force of Brad’s rutting.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t gonna last long. It feels like they’ve barely begun when Brad suddenly peels himself off Nate, pushes upright with two hands on Nate’s lower back, then manhandles Nate’s ass cheeks into a tight groove for his dick to fuck into.
Nate closes his eyes and lets himself be taken, even though he can feel his face burning. It won’t be long, anyway; sweat and spit and precum grease the way for Brad’s dick, which feels hot and swollen between his cheeks. Brad makes another one of his gorgeous, pained grunts—
The first pulse splatters between Nate’s shoulder blades, Nate’s eyes flying open in surprise at how far Brad can shoot. The next few land somewhere in between though, warm and slick as come runs down his spine to pool into his lower back, the runoff tickling as some of it spills down one side.
Jesus, Brad’s coming as hard as some kid having his first wank, and the feel of it is so fucking hot, Nate thinks his eyes might cross.
“Fuck,” he mutters shakily, arms finally giving out as he collapses onto his elbows. Brad keeps their hips together with clenching hands, though, as he rides out his orgasm.
“Fuck, Brad,” he repeats, burying his head into his arms.
Brad’s movements eventually slow, the rocking of their bodies turning languid and sticky. The come between his ass cheeks grows too tacky, and Brad finally sits back on his heels, immediately pulling his sweat-drenched shirt over his head.
For a heartbeat Nate thinks that’s it—they’re done—but when he looks over his shoulder to protest, he’s just in time to see Brad scoot back on his knees and disappear behind Nate’s ass.
“Where are you—oh my God,” Nate swears, jerking forward as Brad puts his face where his dick just was and sticks his tongue in Nate’s ass. “Stop, that’s gross!”
Brad reemerges just long enough to lick his lips with a cocky grin, then pulls Nate’s ass cheeks apart and disappears again.
“Seriously—“ Nate nearly yelps, because it’s true. That’s gross. There’s drying come and day-old ass sweat there, and…and…
“Stop,” Nate gasps once more, but he sounds less than convincing, even to himself. Brad’s happily licking around Nate’s hole like it’s a fucking ice cream cone, and Jesus Christ as if they weren’t already going straight to Hell for all this shit, Nate thinks he likes it.
Brad’s pumping his tongue in and out like it’s an extension of his dick, and the sensation stirs a fire in Nate’s belly so hot, it’s more than just physical. It feels like Brad’s claiming him like this, especially as he turns his face to allow a finger inside, working it in knuckle-by-knuckle until Brad’s fucking him that much deeper.
Oh God, Nate thinks, a little hysterically. He’s going to have beard burn between his ass cheeks.
But then Brad grabs his dick and Nate comes back, re-grounded by the way Brad pumps him with sure, steady movements, licking his ass all the while.
The combination proves exhilarating, like Brad’s both inside and surrounding Nate at the same time.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, appreciative because okay—Brad was right. This was a great idea.
“Hmm,” Brad murmurs lowly, the vibrations making Nate jump. But then Brad pulls out and adds cheekily, “What was that, sir? Did you still want me to stop?”
“Fuck you, Colbert,” Nate swears. He’s pushing his ass against Brad’s face in silent begging though, so that kind of takes the vitriol out of it.
“Don’t say I never did nothing for ‘ya,” Brad replies smugly. More importantly, he goes back to finger-fucking Nate, this time ducking down to lick at the backs of Nate’s balls, suckling gently on one of them.
That’s the kicker, because Nate’s balls are fucking sensitive. An involuntary whine comes through the back of his throat, and Brad certainly hears it because he redoubles his efforts and laps at them eagerly, jacking Nate’s dick all the while.
Eventually Nate loses track of what exactly Brad’s doing back there, but it’s so fucking good and it’s all too much, that he’s not even surprised when it’s barely five minutes later and Nate’s gasping Brad’s name and spilling come all over the dirty laundry beneath him.
Brad appears beside him all of a sudden, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and all Nate can manage is a sleepy smile.
“You kiss your mama with that mouth?” he asks by way of greeting.
“Lucky for you,” Brad says, falling backwards into the scattered clothes on the floor, “I ain’t got a mama. So this mouth’s just for you.”
Nate can’t help a quick, but blinding grin at that, and it teases a suddenly bashful one out of Brad. Nate leans down to kiss him.
Their lips are sticky with more than just spit, but at this point Nate’s too happy to care. It feels good to do what he wants, to not have to analyze every little feeling and movement.
Brad kisses him back, the both of them nursing an otherwise chaste exchange, and they part when they feel like it. Brad rolls Nate onto the ground, coming out on top.
“Gross,” Nate laughs, arching his back away from the cold, clammy fabric behind him. “Wet spot.”
“Like you ain’t covered in my jizz already,” Brad smirks. He features soon soften though, and he buckles down to drop a firm, close-mouthed kiss onto Nate’s lips.
Nate smiles through it, humming a little as Brad heaves a sigh that Nate feels more than hears.
He’s too worn out and happy to think hard about any of this yet, but when Brad gently presses his forehead against Nate’s, his body tightens up as well. It’s a strange sensation, counterpoint to the sated lethargy blanketing Nate’s body.
“What is it?” he asks, stirring as Brad keeps his head against Nate’s. There’s no response though, and if Nate isn’t mistaken, Brad’s starting to shake just the tiniest bit.
Nate opens his eyes, growing worried. Brad’s face is too close to properly observe, but he can feel Brad’s forehead wrinkle. “What is it?” Nate repeats, about to raise up on his elbows but Brad pushes him back down with a quick kiss that somehow feels different from the ones that came before.
Brad keeps his eyes closed as he says, so quietly Nate has to strain his ears to hear him, “I sincerely hope you aren’t fucking with me, sir.”
Nate registers the words, but he doesn’t know what Brad means. “What?” he asks, getting up to his elbows. It causes Brad to pull away and sit on his heels, avoiding Nate’s gaze. Nate misses the proximity, but something’s clearly bothering Brad and Nate wants to clear the air first. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t get an answer that easily, though. Brad’s countenance flickers with too many emotions to catch. There’s anger though, like when Brad’s pissed at himself about something, even when it’s usually something out of his control. There’s nervousness too, barely perceptible for how rarely Brad is ever nervous.
Nate touches his lips, thinking back to why Brad’s last kiss felt different. It was subtle, but not so subtle that Nate couldn’t tell…
It felt like the kind of kiss you take when you think you aren’t getting another one, like a snuck kiss. Like a child reaching for something, knowing he’s about to get his hand slapped—a little bit desperate, a little wild.
Brad looks up, and suddenly everything falls into place. It’s all over his face, for Christ’s sake—his stained cheeks, his clenched fists at his sides, and most tellingly, his eyes. Blue and wary and so damned vulnerable.
Ray was right.
He’s in fucking love with you, sir.
Holy shit.
“Never mind,” Brad says loudly as he clambers to his feet.
“Wait—“ Nate says, blinking up at him. “No. Stay.”
“I said never mind, Nate,” Brad responds, turning his back as he picks up a stray shirt off the ground and stuffs the hem of it into his jeans. Shimmies them up, doing the fly.
Oh, no. Brad is not running from whatever he thinks he saw while Nate was thinking. Nate didn’t even get a chance to say anything.
“I want to talk about this,” Nate says, scrambling to his feet, jumping a little to get his trousers up around his hips. Doesn’t bother to fasten the buttons though, just shoves his soft cock back inside his shorts as he follows Brad into the bedroom.
“Brad,” Nate says warningly. “Don’t you dare leave right now.”
Brad whirls around. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Nate says desperately. He’s losing Brad with each passing second, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to say to make him stay. “Jesus, I don’t know. But it’s okay, Brad. I don’t mind.”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Brad’s forehead wrinkles, and he looks pained. “You don’t mind,” he repeats, followed by a muttered Jesus. “You don’t mind.” He stalks up to Nate, crossing the small bedroom with his long legs.
Nate doesn’t retreat a single inch, even as Brad looms up, close enough that they could be horsing around, or joking. Or kissing. God, Nate wishes.
“Tell me it isn’t just me,” Brad says hoarsely. “That I haven’t been making this all up in my goddamned head again.”
Fuck.
“I don’t know,” Nate says, panicked. Instantly regrets it when Brad’s walls slam up, his face shuttering into the moniker Nate could despise now, for how untrue it is. Iceman. Bullshit. Brad feels more intensely than ten people put together.
“I’m not saying I’m not,” Nate says desperately. “It’s just. I only met you last month, Brad. I don’t know what this is yet. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Brad says bitterly. “I’m the one who’s sorry, sir. You were right this whole time—I’ve been acting damned unprofessional. We should’ve stayed focused on the mission.”
“We need to talk about this, Brad,” Nate says quietly.
Brad gives a small shake of his head. “You don’t feel the same way. That’s fine. There’s nothing else to say. I’m just glad I finally got my answer, and I apologize for the way I chose to extract it these past few weeks.”
His words are measured and cool, and Nate hates every last syllable of it. Hates even more the way Brad turns around and heads for the exit.
“Please stay,” Nate tries one last time. His heart isn’t in it though, because it won’t work.
Brad pauses by the door, saying, “I’ll pick up my things tomorrow.”
He lets himself out of the room.
Nate rubs his eyes.
What a fucking mess.
So, the search continues.
Meanwhile, a new chapter of western!AU. It's a meaty one, too. As usual, I'm rubbish with emotional dialogue, so let me know if anything seems heavy-handed. I'm sure some of it is, since I always tend to make my characters too emo during a first draft :O
The West Coast Two-Step: Part One
MASTER POST
The West Coast Two-Step: Part Two
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
Inside their hotel room, Nate finds Brad rummaging through the closet, pulling shirts off hangers.
Nate asks blankly, “What are you doing?”
It’s a dumb question though, because he has eyes and he can see perfectly well that Brad’s travel bags are gawping open on his mattress. He is preparing to leave—possibly tonight, if his hustle is anything to go by.
“I’m securing the AO,” Brad replies. “Now that Roth can recognize me, I can’t stay. Can’t have him getting curious, poking into my business. It’d jeopardize the mission.”
This must be the hostility Ray warned him about—Brad’s indifferent tone does a piss-poor job of masking his anger, and every curt, efficient move Brad makes as he whisks his shirts into his bags is laced with resentment.
Nate pulls off his top hat and throws it onto the bed. “Aren’t you taking this a little too far?”
Brad’s only response is to walk out of the conversation and into the bathroom.
Nate scowls, then stalks after him. He adds with raised voice, “The chances of Roth coming inside are slim to none, and even then—what does he care if we’re rooming together?”
He carefully avoids mention that Roth would, in fact, be quite livid. But that’s beside the point—the point being that Brad is overreacting, and he doesn’t need to leave.
Inside the tile bathroom, Brad is crouched by the sink, sifting through laundry with movements so measured, Nate can tell it’s killing him not to pitch the whole hamper out the window. Or at Nate.
Ever the Iceman. Nate leans into the doorway, forearms on either side of the wooden frame, and huffs impatiently.
“Would you say something, already?”
Brad abruptly stands up, turning to face Nate with an armful of wrinkled clothing as he crosses the tile. “Leslie Roth might not care about you having a roommate, but you neglected the part where he knows we’re basically fucking. If he sees any more evidence of my involvement in your life, he’s one step away from sussing out that I’m the fucking sheriff of Washoe County, and you’re my new, government-approved, U.S. Marshal sugar daddy. Ergo, I make myself scarce.”
He holds himself steady before Nate, like he’s waiting for a train to pass. Like there’s nothing further to discuss and Nate will just roll over, let him walk out.
Not fucking likely.
Brad turns his head a fraction to the side—no eye contact, though they’re close enough to kiss—and says into Nate’s ear, “By the way, if you think I’m taking things too far for the sake of the mission…” Brad pauses to wet his lips. “It’s only ‘cause I learn from the best.”
The accusation is clear, and Nate feels himself grow warm as Brad’s gaze sweeps over Nate, lingering over the side of his neck before tracking up to his mouth.
When their eyes meet, Brad looks downright dangerous.
“You smell like him,” Brad growls. “And you’re drunk.”
Fuck. From the way he’s gone a little dizzy, Nate will allow some truth to Brad’s words. He drops his arms in defeat, hoping Brad will shove past and they can both sleep this off, but no such luck. In one short-tempered move, Brad throws his laundry back in the direction of the hamper, the bundle flying apart as shirts and jeans flutter to the ground.
“You reek of his pompous, dicksuck cologne,” Brad hisses, dragging Nate in with a fistful of shirt. Buries his nose behind Nate’s ear and audibly inhales, long and deep before continuing, “You’re sweating alcohol. And you smell like spit.”
Nate opens his mouth to protest, but a sharp nip to his earlobe makes him gasp instead.
“Did you fuck him?” Brad whispers, the words hot against Nate’s ear. “No—of course not, look at you.” He rears back and cups his hand under Nate’s jaw, lifting up to expose the tender hickey on the side of Nate’s neck.
“He fucked you, didn’t he,” Brad says hoarsely. “And you let him. Anything for the mission, right? Because sleeping with me would just make you a pillow-biter, but sleeping with Roth makes you a goddamned patriot.”
Nate jerks his head out of Brad’s grasp.
“You don’t speak to me like this, Special Deputy.”
Brad pushes him—actually shoves him, like they’re in some stinking saloon about to start smashing chairs. “Unless you’ve forgotten, you begged me to come out here. If I knew what the job was gonna be like, I never would’ve signed up.”
“What did you expect?” Nate straightens his lapels with an angry snap of his wrists. “What, did you think I was asking you out to the state fair? I’m not your fucking sweetheart. All I needed was a good lawman, and that’s who I thought I hired. Don’t turn this into anything more than that. Because it wasn’t.”
Brad reels back, and Nate knows it’s a low blow, especially since they both know perfectly well there is more than just business between them. If it’ll give Nate some room to breathe though, even for half a goddamned second, he’ll take it.
Nate swivels around and hastily undoes his bowtie, scrambling to rid himself of his tight collar as he re-enters the bedroom. Sets work on the front buttons of his tailcoat when Brad says from behind, his words clear as a bell.
“You know what? Leslie Roth might be a drug-dealing rat bastard who doesn’t give a shit about anything except where to wet his whistle, but at least he has the balls to go after what he wants.”
Nate gapes in disbelief, then turns around to stomp right back up into Brad’s space. “You think that takes balls? Running around, doing what you want, consequences be damned—you think that’s something a man does? Do you have any idea the balls it takes not to do what you want?”
Brad swallows. Nate can see his throat work. God, his eyes are so fucking blue when they’re wide like that.
They’re magnetic, and before Nate knows it he’s grabbed the front of Brad’s shirt and hauled him down for a kiss. Their noses collide at first, but Brad steadies Nate with two hands on his shoulders and gives it right back, kissing him hard enough Nate can feel the ridges of their teeth between them.
He has a split second of indecision, eyes fluttering open to behold Brad’s blurry face. Brad makes a soft grunt like he can feel the hesitation and slides his hands forward to cradle Nate’s jaw, holding him there. He angles them both and eases back into another kiss, and this time they slot together just right, Nate sinking in like Brad’s quicksand.
Oh, Nate thinks. It’s good. It’s really, really good.
When Brad thumbs down on Nate’s jaw, like he’s trying to get him to open his mouth, or move, or something, Nate comes to and starts participating. Plasters himself to Brad’s front like he’s trying to meld them together and opens his mouth—finds Brad’s tongue with his own, the both of them pushing and pulling against each other like waves.
Brad tastes familiar, like something rediscovered. He tastes like tobacco, too, sickly sweet and bitter, which Brad only chews when he’s bored or pissed off. It’s probably the latter, so Nate apologizes by pulling away just long enough to say—to beg, if anyone’s keeping track—
“I wanna fuck you,” Nate pants. He fuses back to Brad’s mouth, knocking him back a step from the force of it. He can feel Brad freeze up under him, and fuck, Nate doesn’t even know if Brad does that, so he hastily breaks the kiss to amend, “Or hell, if you want, you can fuck me.”
Jesus Nate hears Brad mutter under his breath, ears gone red at the tips. The sight delights Nate to no end.
“Come on, sheriff,” he laughs breathlessly, turning his body to buckle onto the pile of laundry where he flops backwards, buttons and awkward lumps of fabric knuckling against his back. He could care less though, just yanks Brad down between Nate’s outstretched legs, Brad’s knees lost among all the clothes.
“You’re killing me,” Brad groans, but he doesn’t seem too put out. He falls over Nate, his palm briefly skidding on a stray sleeve before finding purchase on cold tile, while Brad’s other hand wrests free the buttons of Nate’s vest and shirt.
He makes quick work and splays a warm, calloused palm over Nate’s stomach. Nate sucks in a breath at the bare contact and Brad’s gaze trips south, snagging where his hand’s hidden beneath the layers of Nate’s clothes.
Whatever he’s found there clearly entrances him, Brad’s focus unwavering from the soft bellows of Nate’s respiration.
It takes ages, but Brad eventually realizes he’s being observed. His face colors with embarrassment, which he tries to play off by reclaiming his hand and drawling, “Get these pussy clothes off. You’re making my dick soft.”
“Liar,” Nate says triumphantly. He knows, because he’s reached for Brad’s dick and it’s hard as a rock, even through all that denim.
“Okay, maybe,” Brad concedes. He leans down and playfully tweaks Nate’s nipple, earning a small yelp. Nate squirms around, protecting the sensitive nubs by rolling over.
Brad’s on him in an instant, his giant body nearly crushing Nate to a pancake but Nate props himself up to his hands and knees, and then their bodies curl into each other, Brad’s hard-on rubbing against Nate’s ass.
“Christ, Brad,” Nate swears, thoughts jumbling in his head until the only thing that makes sense is Brad’s moist breath against his ear, Brad’s hips rutting against Nate’s.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” Brad says, like he’s trying to tease but it comes out desperate instead.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Nate grits out, but he heeds the entreaty and shoves Brad off of him to shrug out of his coat, vest, and shirt all at once, the layers peeled off, inside-out, until he’s naked from the waist up. He tosses the messy tangle of clothes somewhere indeterminate.
Behind him, the buckle on Brad’s belt jangles loudly, followed by the slither-whip of leather being yanked free from belt loops. Nate tries to twist around for a look, but Brad’s hand settles on the back of his head, keeping him still as Nate feels him lean over.
Brad’s erection makes itself known against Nate’s ass, even through the bulky denim. Jesus, they’re actually doing this, aren’t they? Nate squirms a bit, suddenly anxious—but then there’s a swirl of tongue around the topmost knob of Nate’s spine, whiting out all sentience, Nate’s body lighting up like a firecracker.
”Brad,” he whines, body jumping under the next warm, wet lick.
Brad leans his forehead between Nate’s heaving shoulder blades and presses a helpless kiss there, mumbling his name with a few gods and fucks tossed in for good measure. Their hips rock back and forth, never stopping, not even for Brad to take his dick out. Brad rests his stubble-rough cheek against the naked skin of Nate’s back, letting Nate carry his weight while he fumbles his jeans open.
Nate fights down a wave of excitement when Brad is back, but without the hard folds of denim. His dick is bare and rubbing off on Nate’s expensive trousers, probably leaking all over them out of spite. Nate reaches back and shoves his trousers down over his ass, but the fabric keeps hiking back up, thwarting Nate completely.
Above him, Brad chuckles and wraps his arms around Nate’s waist, blindly thumbing his trousers open for him. Then, in one gloriously effective move, he yanks them, along with Nate’s shorts, down to his thighs.
Feeling suddenly, thoroughly exposed, Nate hopes his rump isn’t quivering in the open air. Brad isn’t saying anything though, or doing anything, so Nate bites his lip and twists around to look…
Brad’s eyes are hooded as he watches Nate’s face, and he’s panting hard as if he’s just ridden thirty miles on bucking horseback when they haven’t really done anything but kiss and writhe against each other.
Better yet, Brad’s fisting himself, the shiny head of his dick slipping in and out of view between his fingers. It’s the only part that’s overtly sexual, however; with all of Brad’s clothes still on, he might as well have just stepped into the bathroom to take a leak, only to find Nate on hands and knees in a heap of dirty laundry, ass-up for plowing like it’s something he does on a regular basis. (Like it’s something he’s done, ever.)
Oh God, the thought occurs to him—that’s what they’re doing, isn’t it? Yeah, Nate asked for it, but is he really about to make true everything that’s been slung at him in slander over the past year?
But then he looks up at Brad towering behind him, his expression soft but intent, and is filled with so much—fuck, he doesn’t even know—so much feeling, that it takes precedence over all the nagging voices telling Nate this is supposed to be wrong.
“Come on,” Nate eventually says, and he doesn’t know why he’s whispering. Maybe it’s because Brad’s eyes have begun to crinkle in worry, like he’s having second thoughts. Nate doesn’t want him to have second thoughts. “Come here,” he says again, a little louder.
Brad blinks, resolute expression returning in full. He jerks himself a little faster and leans forward to brace himself on one arm, cotton shirt draping over Nate’s bare back before Brad follows it more heavily, chest pressing down behind him.
“That’s it,” Nate coaxes. “I wanna feel you.”
He wills his body not to tense up when Brad holds himself in one hand, running the tip of his cock along the cleft of Nate’s ass in long, slow strokes, like a paintbrush. Brad’s being gentle, even though he must be so fucking turned on if the sheer amount of leakage is anything to go by.
And still, Brad continues to keep himself at bay, now drawing wet little circles around Nate’s hole. This goes on so long Nate almost wants him to just push inside, wants to feel something more than this drawn out, unbearable tease.
”Brad,” Nate chokes out. “What are you—“
“You’re too much,” Brad responds tightly. “I’m not—not gonna last long.”
“So do it already.”
Behind him, Nate hears Brad hock saliva into his palm, followed by the wet sound of Brad jacking himself, getting himself slick for the only thing that could possibly come next.
Nate closes his eyes and lets his head drop down between his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing under control. He’s not going to lie to himself—he’s fucking nervous.
He feels Brad kiss him somewhere close to his shoulder, large hands smoothing up and down the sides of Nate’s body as he fits their hips back together, his dick a heavy presence, warm and hard. Slippery, too, as it rocks up and down the groove of Nate’s ass.
“Shh now,” Brad shushes, and Nate would be indignant at being treated like some virginal bride, were he not so focused on what comes next.
But then Brad brushes one more kiss to the back of Nate’s neck and tells him, “Calm down. I already told you—ain’t gonna last long.”
At that, Brad bears down and starts to thrust himself against Nate, quickly and in earnest.
God, it’s so different from wondering about this to actually doing it. The skin of Brad’s dick is so much smoother, so much hotter than he’d even thought to categorize, the warm heft of his balls a surprising tickle as they rock above Nate’s own. Brad’s jeans are coarse against the vulnerable backs of Nate’s thighs, and Nate feels his own dick revive when he realizes, with no small amount of relief, that Brad intends to get off on just frottage.
When Brad makes a small, quiet grunt like he’s close, Nate feels his arousal flood back in full, the weight of it swaying with the force of Brad’s rutting.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t gonna last long. It feels like they’ve barely begun when Brad suddenly peels himself off Nate, pushes upright with two hands on Nate’s lower back, then manhandles Nate’s ass cheeks into a tight groove for his dick to fuck into.
Nate closes his eyes and lets himself be taken, even though he can feel his face burning. It won’t be long, anyway; sweat and spit and precum grease the way for Brad’s dick, which feels hot and swollen between his cheeks. Brad makes another one of his gorgeous, pained grunts—
The first pulse splatters between Nate’s shoulder blades, Nate’s eyes flying open in surprise at how far Brad can shoot. The next few land somewhere in between though, warm and slick as come runs down his spine to pool into his lower back, the runoff tickling as some of it spills down one side.
Jesus, Brad’s coming as hard as some kid having his first wank, and the feel of it is so fucking hot, Nate thinks his eyes might cross.
“Fuck,” he mutters shakily, arms finally giving out as he collapses onto his elbows. Brad keeps their hips together with clenching hands, though, as he rides out his orgasm.
“Fuck, Brad,” he repeats, burying his head into his arms.
Brad’s movements eventually slow, the rocking of their bodies turning languid and sticky. The come between his ass cheeks grows too tacky, and Brad finally sits back on his heels, immediately pulling his sweat-drenched shirt over his head.
For a heartbeat Nate thinks that’s it—they’re done—but when he looks over his shoulder to protest, he’s just in time to see Brad scoot back on his knees and disappear behind Nate’s ass.
“Where are you—oh my God,” Nate swears, jerking forward as Brad puts his face where his dick just was and sticks his tongue in Nate’s ass. “Stop, that’s gross!”
Brad reemerges just long enough to lick his lips with a cocky grin, then pulls Nate’s ass cheeks apart and disappears again.
“Seriously—“ Nate nearly yelps, because it’s true. That’s gross. There’s drying come and day-old ass sweat there, and…and…
“Stop,” Nate gasps once more, but he sounds less than convincing, even to himself. Brad’s happily licking around Nate’s hole like it’s a fucking ice cream cone, and Jesus Christ as if they weren’t already going straight to Hell for all this shit, Nate thinks he likes it.
Brad’s pumping his tongue in and out like it’s an extension of his dick, and the sensation stirs a fire in Nate’s belly so hot, it’s more than just physical. It feels like Brad’s claiming him like this, especially as he turns his face to allow a finger inside, working it in knuckle-by-knuckle until Brad’s fucking him that much deeper.
Oh God, Nate thinks, a little hysterically. He’s going to have beard burn between his ass cheeks.
But then Brad grabs his dick and Nate comes back, re-grounded by the way Brad pumps him with sure, steady movements, licking his ass all the while.
The combination proves exhilarating, like Brad’s both inside and surrounding Nate at the same time.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, appreciative because okay—Brad was right. This was a great idea.
“Hmm,” Brad murmurs lowly, the vibrations making Nate jump. But then Brad pulls out and adds cheekily, “What was that, sir? Did you still want me to stop?”
“Fuck you, Colbert,” Nate swears. He’s pushing his ass against Brad’s face in silent begging though, so that kind of takes the vitriol out of it.
“Don’t say I never did nothing for ‘ya,” Brad replies smugly. More importantly, he goes back to finger-fucking Nate, this time ducking down to lick at the backs of Nate’s balls, suckling gently on one of them.
That’s the kicker, because Nate’s balls are fucking sensitive. An involuntary whine comes through the back of his throat, and Brad certainly hears it because he redoubles his efforts and laps at them eagerly, jacking Nate’s dick all the while.
Eventually Nate loses track of what exactly Brad’s doing back there, but it’s so fucking good and it’s all too much, that he’s not even surprised when it’s barely five minutes later and Nate’s gasping Brad’s name and spilling come all over the dirty laundry beneath him.
Brad appears beside him all of a sudden, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and all Nate can manage is a sleepy smile.
“You kiss your mama with that mouth?” he asks by way of greeting.
“Lucky for you,” Brad says, falling backwards into the scattered clothes on the floor, “I ain’t got a mama. So this mouth’s just for you.”
Nate can’t help a quick, but blinding grin at that, and it teases a suddenly bashful one out of Brad. Nate leans down to kiss him.
Their lips are sticky with more than just spit, but at this point Nate’s too happy to care. It feels good to do what he wants, to not have to analyze every little feeling and movement.
Brad kisses him back, the both of them nursing an otherwise chaste exchange, and they part when they feel like it. Brad rolls Nate onto the ground, coming out on top.
“Gross,” Nate laughs, arching his back away from the cold, clammy fabric behind him. “Wet spot.”
“Like you ain’t covered in my jizz already,” Brad smirks. He features soon soften though, and he buckles down to drop a firm, close-mouthed kiss onto Nate’s lips.
Nate smiles through it, humming a little as Brad heaves a sigh that Nate feels more than hears.
He’s too worn out and happy to think hard about any of this yet, but when Brad gently presses his forehead against Nate’s, his body tightens up as well. It’s a strange sensation, counterpoint to the sated lethargy blanketing Nate’s body.
“What is it?” he asks, stirring as Brad keeps his head against Nate’s. There’s no response though, and if Nate isn’t mistaken, Brad’s starting to shake just the tiniest bit.
Nate opens his eyes, growing worried. Brad’s face is too close to properly observe, but he can feel Brad’s forehead wrinkle. “What is it?” Nate repeats, about to raise up on his elbows but Brad pushes him back down with a quick kiss that somehow feels different from the ones that came before.
Brad keeps his eyes closed as he says, so quietly Nate has to strain his ears to hear him, “I sincerely hope you aren’t fucking with me, sir.”
Nate registers the words, but he doesn’t know what Brad means. “What?” he asks, getting up to his elbows. It causes Brad to pull away and sit on his heels, avoiding Nate’s gaze. Nate misses the proximity, but something’s clearly bothering Brad and Nate wants to clear the air first. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t get an answer that easily, though. Brad’s countenance flickers with too many emotions to catch. There’s anger though, like when Brad’s pissed at himself about something, even when it’s usually something out of his control. There’s nervousness too, barely perceptible for how rarely Brad is ever nervous.
Nate touches his lips, thinking back to why Brad’s last kiss felt different. It was subtle, but not so subtle that Nate couldn’t tell…
It felt like the kind of kiss you take when you think you aren’t getting another one, like a snuck kiss. Like a child reaching for something, knowing he’s about to get his hand slapped—a little bit desperate, a little wild.
Brad looks up, and suddenly everything falls into place. It’s all over his face, for Christ’s sake—his stained cheeks, his clenched fists at his sides, and most tellingly, his eyes. Blue and wary and so damned vulnerable.
Ray was right.
He’s in fucking love with you, sir.
Holy shit.
“Never mind,” Brad says loudly as he clambers to his feet.
“Wait—“ Nate says, blinking up at him. “No. Stay.”
“I said never mind, Nate,” Brad responds, turning his back as he picks up a stray shirt off the ground and stuffs the hem of it into his jeans. Shimmies them up, doing the fly.
Oh, no. Brad is not running from whatever he thinks he saw while Nate was thinking. Nate didn’t even get a chance to say anything.
“I want to talk about this,” Nate says, scrambling to his feet, jumping a little to get his trousers up around his hips. Doesn’t bother to fasten the buttons though, just shoves his soft cock back inside his shorts as he follows Brad into the bedroom.
“Brad,” Nate says warningly. “Don’t you dare leave right now.”
Brad whirls around. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Nate says desperately. He’s losing Brad with each passing second, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to say to make him stay. “Jesus, I don’t know. But it’s okay, Brad. I don’t mind.”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Brad’s forehead wrinkles, and he looks pained. “You don’t mind,” he repeats, followed by a muttered Jesus. “You don’t mind.” He stalks up to Nate, crossing the small bedroom with his long legs.
Nate doesn’t retreat a single inch, even as Brad looms up, close enough that they could be horsing around, or joking. Or kissing. God, Nate wishes.
“Tell me it isn’t just me,” Brad says hoarsely. “That I haven’t been making this all up in my goddamned head again.”
Fuck.
“I don’t know,” Nate says, panicked. Instantly regrets it when Brad’s walls slam up, his face shuttering into the moniker Nate could despise now, for how untrue it is. Iceman. Bullshit. Brad feels more intensely than ten people put together.
“I’m not saying I’m not,” Nate says desperately. “It’s just. I only met you last month, Brad. I don’t know what this is yet. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Brad says bitterly. “I’m the one who’s sorry, sir. You were right this whole time—I’ve been acting damned unprofessional. We should’ve stayed focused on the mission.”
“We need to talk about this, Brad,” Nate says quietly.
Brad gives a small shake of his head. “You don’t feel the same way. That’s fine. There’s nothing else to say. I’m just glad I finally got my answer, and I apologize for the way I chose to extract it these past few weeks.”
His words are measured and cool, and Nate hates every last syllable of it. Hates even more the way Brad turns around and heads for the exit.
“Please stay,” Nate tries one last time. His heart isn’t in it though, because it won’t work.
Brad pauses by the door, saying, “I’ll pick up my things tomorrow.”
He lets himself out of the room.
Nate rubs his eyes.
What a fucking mess.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 04:25 am (UTC)God, I'm going to the special hell for how hard I laughed at this line. The rest though? Intense, and kind of an emotional rollercoaster -- from awww to unf to wanting to smack Brad upside the head (again) for being so emotionally retarded. Good stuff! :D
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 04:07 pm (UTC)thanks for reading babe :)
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 05:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 01:54 am (UTC)sooo glad the smut worked for you. i wrote it kinda fast so was a little worried it was just like, really campy (in fact, there are some lines i still want to dial back a bit). but yis. hot = good
thanks for the feedback, it totally put a smile on my face this morning <3<3<3
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 05:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 01:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 03:31 pm (UTC)He is preparing to leave—possibly tonight, if his hustle is anything to go by.
Brad Colbert, you coward!
Not fucking likely.
YAY badass!Nate. I do so love his spine.
Because sleeping with me would just make you a pillow-biter, but sleeping with Roth makes you a goddamned patriot.
...wow. That is an AMAZING line.
Running around, doing what you want, consequences be damned—you think that’s something a man does? Do you have any idea the balls it takes not to do what you want?
This struck me as very painfully Nate - desperately clinging to his restraint, to his responsibilities. Shades of his loyalty stuff with Encino Man from the mini, I thought.
Oh, Nate thinks. It’s good. It’s really, really good.
Yes, Nate, that's what some of us have been trying to tell you! (Also, FINALLY!)
Jesus Nate hears Brad mutter under his breath, ears gone red at the tips. The sight delights Nate to no end.
As it does me.
Brad’s on him in an instant, his giant body nearly crushing Nate to a pancake
...I think this might go just a bit far with the description. For one, Brad's not that much bigger than Nate; he's got maybe two inches on him, but they're both strapping boys, so for Nate to think of Brad as 'giant' gave me pause. Also, the whole 'crushing him to a pancake' seemed a bit too hyperbolic for Nate. You could get some mileage out of a play on words with 'breathless' here, though. Because someone on top of you means you can't fucking breathe, no matter that Nate is not the type to become breathless, emotionally. That's just a vague thing that occurred to me, though, and this is all imo, as always.
to find Nate on hands and knees in a heap of dirty laundry, ass-up for plowing like it’s something he does on a regular basis. (Like it’s something he’s done, ever.)
Oh, really? DUDE!
Nate hopes his rump isn’t quivering in the open air.
I got snagged at 'rump.' Would Nate be coy in his thoughts? Wouldn't he just think of it as his ass?
Brad’s eyes have begun to crinkle in worry, like he’s having second thoughts. Nate doesn’t want him to have second thoughts.
Oooh, I am intrigued. Was this from Nate's reactions (i.e. Nate hasn't done this before, which Brad was just getting) or from Brad's own hesitations.
Also, omg, the porn was so freaking hot.
“You don’t mind,” he repeats, followed by a muttered Jesus. “You don’t mind.”
Yeah, seriously. Way to go, Nate. Jesus, has he never had anyone legitimately in love with him before?
Iceman. Bullshit. Brad feels more intensely than ten people put together.
Omg, PERFECTION.
You don’t feel the same way. That’s fine. There’s nothing else to say.
::headdesk:: Omg, these boys are too stupid to live. Both of them! Jesus, Brad! Give a guy a break. He's been actively repressing anything he feels for you for a month. Get your head out of your ass. NOT EVERYONE IS ON YOUR TIMETABLE!
By which I mean, wow, totally can see this happening. All of it. It's so grounded and so believable and I wholly recognize these men, even as they're being rather thick.
I found myself left with two questions (which you may well answer in the future, so if so, please ignore.) First, does Nate not know that much about anal sex prep? He comes off as such a competent badass that I just assumed he was worldly about these things, only from this I got that that's not the case. Which is great and intriguing and about which I want to know more, but I just wanted to make sure my assumption was on point. And second, did it ever hit Brad that Nate didn't let Roth fuck him, as he'd accused?
As always, stellar, stellar work! Also HOT LIKE FIRE!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:13 am (UTC)...wow. That is an AMAZING line.
*blushes* I was kind of happy with that one too...BECAUSE IT'S SO TRUE. Nate, you stupid boy, you. Just give up and realize you are a sexual deviant.
Thanks for the callouts on which parts were too campy! I wrote it pretty fast, so I'm sure parts of the storytelling got a little OC because it was just, you know. Me chilling at home, thinking about Nate's rump and my size kink with how freaking LARGE ASkars is, forgetting that oh yeah, Starky's pretty big too <3
Was this from Nate's reactions (i.e. Nate hasn't done this before, which Brad was just getting) or from Brad's own hesitations.
I wrote it as Brad's own hesitations, in some way trying to foreshadow his freakout at the end of the chapter. That's he's not at all secure in what they're doing. I also meant for his feelings to be pretty obscure, since this is Nate's POV and he doesn't know why Brad's worried, that from Nate's POV he might think Brad's having second thoughts for his own sake. They're both just stupidly insecure in this early relationship, basically :P
I totally value your opinion though--do you think that's something I should flesh out? Especially since I wasn't necessarily trying to give off the vibe that Nate's all n00b at the dude!sex (even though he is...to answer one of your questions at the end, my stance on Nate's sexual experience is that he knows in theory how it happens, and he's perfectly willing to try anything once, but it doesn't mean he won't be a little nervous in the beginning).
Jesus, has he never had anyone legitimately in love with him before?
N'aww, I don't think he has. Not this Nate, at least. He's probably just had girls infatuated with him, but never gotten close enough to any of them for the girls to be in Brad's THE-CURVES-OF-YOUR-LIPS-REWRITE-HISTORY state of mind.
did it ever hit Brad that Nate didn't let Roth fuck him, as he'd accused?
Yes. He started to get a clue when Nate was all hot and bothered by Brad, because a) Nate'd probably be more sane and thinking less with his dick if it'd actually gotten off earlier that evening and b) Brad's whole insecurity with Roth is less about the sex and more about Nate's attention, so once he had that in full the notion of Roth and Nate having sex ceased to matter as much to him. By the end, when he was poking around Nate's butt he knew for sure he was in territory that hadn't been breached that evening ;)
HOT LIKE FIRE!
\o/ YAY!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 03:11 am (UTC)AWW! But it's cause you deserve it!
I wrote it as Brad's own hesitations, in some way trying to foreshadow his freakout at the end of the chapter. That's he's not at all secure in what they're doing. I also meant for his feelings to be pretty obscure, since this is Nate's POV and he doesn't know why Brad's worried, that from Nate's POV he might think Brad's having second thoughts for his own sake.
Ahh, gotcha. No, I don't think you need to flesh it out, as such. The ambiguity works, especially given the POV. If you want you can make a slight tweak with a firmer nod to Brad's freak-out issues. Something in the vein of Brad reaching for Nate like he couldn't help himself. And I only say that because I thought Brad was reacting to Nate's nerves, not that having his own issues.
my stance on Nate's sexual experience is that he knows in theory how it happens, and he's perfectly willing to try anything once, but it doesn't mean he won't be a little nervous in the beginning
Which is totally fine, but that Nate seemed to be advocating anal sex sans lube just gave me pause. Because, you know, ow. And such a basic thing implies rather a lot of naivete.
Brad's THE-CURVES-OF-YOUR-LIPS-REWRITE-HISTORY state of mind.
AHAHAHA! Such a great description (because it's so true!). And okay, that info about Nate makes total sense.
Brad's whole insecurity with Roth is less about the sex and more about Nate's attention, so once he had that in full the notion of Roth and Nate having sex ceased to matter as much to him.
Huh. THAT'S interesting. I was reading this as 'Brad is territorial like whoa.' So - thirty-second hypothetical, as I play devil's advocate - would Brad be totally fine if Nate decided to wander off and engage the services of a prostitute, so long as otherwise he had Nate's full attention? Or is it a temporal thing? Does Roth cease to matter in this moment, because Brad has Nate's full attention here, but Roth will again matter once they're done with the sexytimes and Nate has to go off and possibly fuck him again?
The distinction you're making intrigues me, but my concern is that I'm not seeing it come through in the story (unless I missed something, which is possible). I've been under the presumption that Brad wants Nate exclusively - sexually, romantically, even attention-wise - which was why Roth was such a threat (he engages all three of those on an ongoing basis). But I suspect I'm just misunderstanding you, so please, put me out of my misery.
REGARDLESS of any of that! It may be helpful if you put a subtle nod to the fact that Brad figured out Roth hadn't fucked Nate, just so we know he knows. I assumed that he knew, but given the level of Brad's freak-out over the two of them fucking (like in that wonderful line of dialogue you wrote for Brad), it might need to be paid off in a more concrete way.
SO MUCH LOVE!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 03:29 am (UTC)About the whole "Brad: Territorial Alpha vs. Attention Whore" thing, you're totally flexing my gray matter here. I haven't really given it a lot of thought...I've just been making Brad a jealous bitch about everything, but if I'm going to sit and think hard about it, I think it's mostly because what Brad finds threatening about Roth is more that he's a kind of scapegoat for Nate. That Roth pulls Nate away from Brad, because Roth can satisfy Nate's physical needs without having to challenge his morals the way Brad does. So there's an emotional aspect to Roth as a threat, not just the sex (though that doesn't help).
To add to that thought, I think this Brad would be okay with Nate sleeping with a prostitute. I mean not like 100% okay, but he wouldn't put up a big fuss, especially since canon!Brad has done so multiple times and is pretty cavalier about the whole business.
So in a way, Brad is mature enough to realize that in theory, Nate having another sexual partner doesn't have to pose a real threat. It's just that wrapped up with Roth is a whole world of emotional underpinnings, and Brad is waaaay not secure enough in his and Nate's current relationship--especially with Nate dragging his heels the way he is--to be comfortable with Nate and Roth having sex because of what it might mean on an emotional level. For example, if Nate chose to sleep with Roth, it might mean Nate wasn't that attached to Brad in the first place. That Nate can get his rocks off in any old place and be done with it, whereas Brad needs Nate in such an all-consuming way, not just sexually.
Does that make any sense? If it does, should I make any of this come through more in the fic?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 04:12 am (UTC)::dies laughing::
Also, AH-HA! Yes, your explanation is very helpful! It's actually less about attention than it is about emotional investment (::loves::)...though perhaps emotional investment begets attention while the reverse is not necessarily true.
Roth pulls Nate away from Brad, because Roth can satisfy Nate's physical needs without having to challenge his morals the way Brad does. So there's an emotional aspect to Roth as a threat, not just the sex
What I kind of adore about this is there are levels to it. Sure, Brad wants to fuck Nate, but he also thinks so highly of him that he believes Nate should want to rise to Brad's challenge, rather than taking the easy way out by fucking Roth. I like that Brad's set himself up rather nicely in this scenario (probably unconsciously): if Nate meets Brad's standards of Goodness, then he'll choose to be with Brad. A lesser man would choose Roth. And Brad desperately wants Nate NOT to be a lesser man, especially given how head-over-heels he is. That's such fascinating psychology.
ANYway.
As to your last question, I do think some of this should be made explicit somewhere. Maybe not yet because Brad's still reacting in a very knee-jerk emotional (bitchy) way, but at some point someone should make explicit that Brad is basically holding Nate to some pretty epic standards of conduct. The most satisfying way would be to have Brad confront Nate about it - that falling into something with Roth is basically a pussy-bitch move, getting himself a sugar daddy so he doesn't have to face that he actually is that sexual deviant you mentioned earlier. It's also cowardly. Especially how he's blaming it on the service when it's really his own inability to embrace his inner sexual deviant.
The problem being that I don't know if even Brad recognizes just what he's doing (e.g. expecting Nate to WANT someone [Brad] to challenge his morals, to choose that over the easy way out). Perhaps that's the next step. Brad's worked himself up. Now maybe someone else (Ray!) calls him on it in a vein similar to what we're discussing here. Like, 'dude, you fuck whores! How's this different than the steady piece of ass you paid back home?' It could be internal, but I'm always inclined toward having it come from an external place so that it forces Brad to look at things he could otherwise hide from if he were just in his own head. Plus, Ray is love.
Ummm, if that makes sense? I hope that makes sense. I do love the levels like whoa, lemme tell ya.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 01:29 am (UTC)OMG! You really like making them jump through hoops, don't you? I loved it!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-21 02:09 am (UTC)man, i have a problem. i need to make these boys happy already. I WILL SOON, PROMISSSE
no subject
Date: 2011-11-19 08:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-04 07:50 pm (UTC)Any chance you finish it? pleasepleaseplease
no subject
Date: 2012-08-04 10:57 pm (UTC)i really appreciate you reading it though. means a lot!
no subject
Date: 2014-02-08 05:41 pm (UTC)I'm just making my way back to fandom, after having been absent for awhile, and am so inordinately happy to have found your (**AMAZING!**) Western!AU.
I am a total sucker for all things western, and not only do these characters lend themselves well to the genre, but you've done an incredible job writing them. If only I knew what happens next between Brad and Nate! Damn it, Nate- don't fuck this up!
no subject
Date: 2014-02-10 11:24 pm (UTC)