templemarker: generation kill: two soldiers watching artie rain on a city (when the world ends)
[personal profile] templemarker

In honour of the 234th birthday of United States Marine Corps, I propose this day a comment-heavy post full of love, admiration, and porn for our favorite Corps brethern, the Generation Kill boys. And to get it started, here's a piece from my current agentverse wip.

He followed Nate upstairs, and smiled a little at the trail of clothes Nate left on the floor. Nate would never be that careless if he didn't want Brad to buy a clue. He set his coffee on the vanity and pushed off his pants, shoving aside the shower curtain to see Nate half-soaped under the spray, coffee mug balanced precariously on a ledge above the nozzle.

Nate smiled, and Brad's dick got harder. "Nice to know your skills aren't slipping," he teased, pulling Brad closer with a slick hand.

"Wait until I test yours," Brad murmured, tipping Nate's face up and into a kiss, fingers slipping down to pull on Nate's dick.

Nate pushed him back against the tile, and Brad shuddered a little at the coolness of it; then he shuddered at the sharp bite Nate gave to his nipple. Brad thrust against Nate's stomach, lazily running hands over his body, seeking the sounds Nate made. The noises he made, god, Brad missed those the most; Nate had always been unabashed in his pleasure, and Brad had become trained to the sounds of Nate touching, Nate fucking, Nate hungry for more. There had been times, trapped behind compound walls in Afghanistan, picking off enemies one by one, that he'd allowed himself to falter in his concentration. When he needed something to push him through the tension of sitting in one uncomfortable place for hours on end, he'd close one eye, put the other against his scope, and think of the sounds Nate made when he shook on Brad's tongue.

It was that thought, the sense memory of restraint mixed with the undeniable presence of the star of his fantasies, that sent him over with barely Nate's hand on his dick. Nate jacked him through it, kissing Brad like he'd waited a lifetime to do it, and Brad thought maybe he had.

Without preamble, Brad dropped to his shaky knees and bit just below Nate's bellybutton; here, Brad was allowed to mark. The shocked, uneven noise Nate made was a bonus, and Brad wasted no time sucking Nate's cock down. Brad used the gasps and grunts Nate was making to judge how close he was, and pushed past his own resistance to bring Nate into his throat, sucking at the base until he felt Nate's fingers dig into his shoulders. He pulled back just enough to catch Nate's come on his tongue, breathing through his nose and letting his fingernails dig into the skin of Nate's thigh. He was allowed to mark there, too.

After Nate's hips had finally stopped jerking, Brad pulled off and rested his head against Nate's thigh for a moment, enjoying the water dripping off Nate and onto him, enjoying the firm press of Nate's hand against the back of his head. He stood, gripping Nate and the shower bar for balance, and pressed his lips against Nate's, knowing Nate could taste himself on Brad's tongue.

"I think I'm even more late now," Nate said with a grin, kissing Brad quickly before stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. Brad moved into the spray, grabbing the soap.

"I suspect it was worth it," Brad said. Nate's head poked out of his towel and he smiled.

"Of course it was," he said, reaching in the shower for another kiss and undoing all his work. "But I really have to go, Alonna's going to kill me. I can't even take the Metro now, I don't have enough time to walk. I'm going to have to drive."

"Does Mike still give you shit about driving yourself?" Brad asked, rubbing shampoo onto his head.

Nate laughed. "I'm pretty sure Mike thinks I should never be allowed behind the wheel, and I told him, if he wants to come up from his hick porch and drive for me, he could do it, otherwise he should shut up and let the District of Columbia give me a goddamned license."

"Go forth and conquer the streets of our fair capitol, Captain," Brad said, eyes on Nate's ass as he left the bathroom naked. "Let me know if you want anything special for dinner."

"We get unlimited text messages on our phone plan now," Nate's voice called from the other room. "I'll text you after I get out of my meeting."

Brad didn't say anything, just stuck his head under the spray. When he finally came out of the shower, Nate was leaning against the door in his suit and tie, unabashedly admiring Brad, who slung a towel across his neck.

"One more, but you can't get me wet," Nate said quietly, stepping forward to press fingers against Brad's face; he did that sometimes, as if to prove to himself that Brad was actually there. "You can't deny a man who's been going without."

"I'd never deny you anyway," Brad said, taking care to lean in out of the way of Nate's clothes to fuck his tongue into Nate's mouth, wishing he could do more when Nate strangled out a moan.

"Meeting," Brad said, lips swiping across Nate's.

"Maybe I can blow it off," Nate said hopefully.

"Meeting," Brad said again firmly, stepping back.

"Fine," Nate said with a sigh. "But you better be naked and ready when I get home, because I'm not spending the whole day half-hard without reason."

Brad laughed. "I'll have dinner on the table too, honey."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "You better," he said, turning to go down the stairs.

Come forth, and share your ficlets! We can play round robin, or leave prompts, or what have you. Let's celebrate this birthday in the most awkward, awesome way possible: with porn. (Ray-ray would approve.)

[Thanks to [personal profile] oxoniensis for the banner!]
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October 2016


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