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 Some Generation Kill fic/drabble/commentfic type things I've written lately.

Nate/Brad - dirty talking about Ray
1236 words
all porn

"Christ," Nate gasps, closing his eyes as his head falls back, losing himself in the velveety wet heat of Brad's mouth, Brad's tongue slipping underneath the head before swallowing him nearly all the way down his throat. "What's gotten into you, Brad?" He slides his fingers over the top of Brad's head, hair damp with sweat, letting his thumb down trace the curve of Brad's face, touches the place where his cock is inside Brad's mouth and groans.

Brad's cheeks are flushed, though Nate's not sure if its from the heat or from something else, and his mouth is swollen and red, lips shiny with Nate's precome. He's sucking at Nate's cock like he's fucking starved for it and well, it just isn't like Brad, to be honest. Nate's usually the one on his knees, playing the dirty little cockslut that he is, letting Brad fuck into his mouth and come all over his face. Brad's usually more in control than this. He knows what he wants and he takes it, usually with much force although Nate hopes he knows there's no need for it, not anymore. He'd gladly spread his legs over the hood of a humvee in the middle of broad daylight for Brad Colbert if he so much as quirked an eyebrow at him the right way.

"What is it, Brad?" He puts his finger beneath Brad's chin, signalling Brad to look up at him. "That little tussle you got into with Person earlier get you all riled up?" And he's joking, of course he's joking, its Ray they're talking about, but the way Brad's eyes darken, when he feels Brad's teeth scrape down the length of his shaft, Nate realizes he might not be so far off. Brad's hands come up and mold around Nate's hips, bare and exposed where Brad yanked his fatigues down just far enough to get to his cock, and they press him against the wall, holding him down.

"Jesus, Brad," Nate moans, having to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise, from screaming out the way he wants to. "Ray too? You greedy motherfucker..."

Then he's tugging at Brad's collar and hauling him up, bruising Brad's mouth with kisses and teeth, slamming him up against the closest surface he can find, getting his hand inside Brad's fatigues and around his dick.

"Nate," Brad says, looking at him, trying to make his mouth form words as Nate's thumb circles the head of his cock. "I don't-"

"You do," Nate cuts him off, a gleam in his eyes that makes Brad's dick jerk in his hands. "I can tell. You think I don't know you by now, Brad? That look on your face earlier? You wanted to push Ray to his knees and fuck his filthy little mouth, didn't you? You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Fuck, LT." Brad groans as Nate twists his wrists, yanks Brad's pants down until he can jerk him off freely, without restriction. Brad just leans back, all that skin offered up to Nate so freely, and thrusts his hips into it. "Yes. Fuck yes, his mouth. That stupid, inbred, whiskey-tango, trailer park whore mouth of his."

They both moan a little in tandem at Brad's words and Nate pulls his face forward, fucking into Brad's mouth with his tongue while Brad continues to thrust into his hand. He needs to come so hard he's shaking with it, sweat beading across his eyebrows, slowly dripping down the curve of his neck and shoulders. Nate leans in and tastes it, taking a moment to suck a bruise into the flesh.

"Wanna fuck you," Brad groans into it, reaching down to still Nate's hand and Nate just nods, stripping out of his clothing the rest of the way.

"Sit," he instructs Brad, pulling up an old, rusty colored chair that was left behind, as Brad sheds his pants, too impatient to worry with the rest. Brad sits down in the chair, legs spread wide, cock jutting up against his stomach, a beautiful reddish pink against the stark whiteness of his stomach, and spits into his hand, slicking his cock up for Nate. Nate doesn't really care if it hurts or not, he just fucking needs, and fuck, Brad's splitting him open, stretching him wide and further than he thinks he can stand for a minute, so to distract himself from the searing pain he mumbles, "..wanna watch you fuck him, and maybe that wasn't the best idea because it makes Brad grunt and jerk, shoving his cock further inside of Nate before he can really get used to it, but oh fuck yes, there.

"Jesus fucking christ, Nate," Brad bites off, hands planted firmly around Nate's hips to keep them both still for a minute. "Warn me next time you're going to say something like that."

Nate just grins, boyish eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and grinds down on Brad's dick again, feeling like he's going to be split up the middle and loving every minute of it, pushing his hands up under Brad's shirts, fingernails mauling up Brad's chest. "You know you want to," He murmurs, biting at Brad's throat. "Want to put him on his knees and just, fuck, fuck him open."

"Oh fuck," Brad gasps, nails digging into Nate's ass as Nate rides his cock, legs spread out over Brad's hips, stretched so fucking wide for him. He just knows Ray would be the same, so fucking hungry for it, fucking beg for it.

"Bet he'd be so tight for you, Brad," Nate mumbles, sitting back to rock against him, palm flattened out across Brad's chest, sucking on his bottom lip until its puffy and red. "Think he'd be tighter than me, first time you fucked me?"

"God," Brad says, whisper-like, he has to close his eyes a minute and focus just to keep from coming right then.

"Remember that?" Nate asks, like there's any fucking possible way of him not remembering the first time Nate came to him, sucked him dry, then begged him to fuck him. He leans in to whisper next to Brad's ear, "You'd look so good, Brad, wanna watch you lick Ray's tight little hole open, wanna fuck his mouth while he takes your cock so he can't make a goddamn sound. God, can you imagine what that would be like? Person quiet for once?"

"Nate," Brad chokes out, clenching his fingers into a tight fist, pressing it to the middle of Nate's back as he comes, his body shaking with it all over, pressing his sweaty forehead to Nate's collarbone. Nate sits back and starts pumping his cock furiously, eyes blown, almost completely black minus the ring of baby blue surrounding them.

"So hot," Brad murmurs, stroking the back of his neck. "Come on, Nate."

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU COLBERT? I MISS YOUR ASS, COME MAKE UP WITH ME BITCH!" They can both hear Ray's loud ass yelling out in the compound. Their eyes meet and Brad feels Nate come spill against his belly, warm and slick, feels Nate go limp in his arms.

"Fuck," Nate sighs, chuckling softly. He looks up at Brad. "Go take care of your RTO, Brad." He gives him this lopsided smile, like he's not pretending what just happened didn't. Like he still means everything he said. "I believe he's looking for you."


Brad, Ray, a baby in Iraq
kid!fic, well sorta not really
360 words
Not!porn

When the woman hands her baby over to Brad, he think he'd be more comfortable cradling a live grenade. The miniature person is just so squirmy and squishy, and Brad's not very in touch with his feminine side, like Rudy or the Doc or pretty much any fucking body else. Brad's a soldier, a fucking warrior with an assault rifle on his hip and if he squeezes too hard, he could probably crush the tiny human's skull. He has nephews, he knows about that squishy part on the top of their heads. There is no way he's qualified for this.

"Oh my God," Ray chuckles behind him. "It's a baby, dude, not a car bomb." He says and seriously, Brad wouldn't be sweating nearly this much if it was a car bomb. That he has a clear and precise SOP for. This, this child, this squirmy pile of flesh and bones wriggling in his arms - he feels lost. And Brad doesn't like that feeling, makes him anxious, makes the center of his hands itch and all his senses go on overdrive.

"C'mere darlin'," Ray says and he's digging his fingers up under the baby's arms and removing her from Brad's arms. "Don't let the Iceman scare you, baby." She coos and gurgles in Ray's arms as he tickles her belly and her tiny hands fly up to clutch at Ray's finger.

Something sparks in Brad's brain when he sees her tugging Ray's fingers toward her mouth, the same kind of feeling he gets when they're under fire, Ray's stupid ass standing in a rain of arti like he's motherfucking Superman. "Ray," He says coolly. "Give me back the child before she contacts some kind of fungus. I know where those hands have been and not one of them is considered sanitary, not even in this festering, shit hole excuse for a country."

"Whatever you say, Colbert." Brad winks and presses his lips to the crown of her head before handing the baby back to Brad.

Brad's still standing there, holding the baby out at arms length as he watches Ray walk away.

War is not supposed to be this complicated.


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