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hackthis_archive) wrote2008-12-05 10:25 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2008-12-05 10:25 am
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Generation Kill - The Completely Unintentional Yet Highly Effective Courtship of Walt Hasser by Ray
1. A message from the heart. Or at least from the place where I like to jump up and down like it's church on a Sunday (or the bar on a Tuesday) and shriek AMEN!. Please Don't Bomb Nobody This Holiday. A spanking would be SO much better. Provided by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
antheia
2. I have watched two episodes of Merlin and yeah okay, I totally cave. It's crackier than cracky. It's like Smallville does Camelot. It's like due South does Camelot. It's like -- okay, forget everything you know about Camelot -- and just stick two boys in Oxford and call it Camelot, because if that building is Camelot my name is fucking Morgana. Personally I blamerageprufrock who was all Arthur is the Prince of Wales, and I think historically I was all "WTF?!" and then I read her story and was like, oh, c'mon, it can't be that cracked out. I was wrong, bitches, wrong. I have a post-it next to my desk -- sort of a chartreuse color actually -- that has the title and hook for my first Merlin story, I just have to get my angle, which is why sparky77 has to hurry up and watch so she can fling ideas at my head. Wow. That was a lot of excitement there. Um, where was I? Oh, yes, in the meantime I'm trying something different.
Generation Kill
Ray Person/Walt Hasser, Brad/Nate (of course)
RatedPG R (who knew?)
The Completely Unintentional Yet Highly Effective Courtship of Walt Hasser by Ray Person.
Or Vice Versa.
Or Everybody Goes Gay in the Military Eventually.
In the end, it's not Ray's fault.
It's really not.
Personally, he blames Walt's tongue. Because it's there. And whenever Walt's thinking hard or working hard or whatever –- he sticks it out. Not all the way out, just enough to let Ray know it's there, and okay, what the fuck ever.
It's Walt's fault.
Walt has a porn star tongue.
Ray's never seen a porn star tongue, just cocksucker lips, and a whole lot of silicone and magic, ping-pong ball blowing pussy –- thank you, Thailand –- but if there were such a thing as porn star tongue, Walt would have it. It would be pink and wet, and Ray can just imagine Walt licking his dick like –-
"RAY!"
Wow, Ray didn't even see that berm there.
"My bad, Brad."
Ray doesn't think he's staring. He hopes to god he's not staring, because that would be gay. Like extra special gay. Like extra special education, go-home-on-the-short-bus-retard gay. It's not his fault though, because Walt's kind of sprawled out on the hood of the hummer, stroking the Mark-19 like it's his baby or his girl or his dick, and he's licking his lips, which probably taste like spaghetti MREs and Haji desert ass.
Ass.
"RAY!"
Ray blinks up at Brad. "Yeah?"
"Is there some reason you're stroking the hook like it's a fucking combat jack?"
Ray looks down at the phone in his hand and then back up at Brad.
When did he get out of the truck? Oh yeah, to see what Walt was up to.
"I'm just practicing my stroke for later," Ray grins. "I know how you like me to practice."
Brad rolls his eyes. "Ray, I wouldn't touch your whiskey tango, trailer-park ratfucking, clap-spreading ass with somebody else's dick."
Ray just grins even more.
Brad wouldn't touch his ass sure -– but only cause he's too busy letting the LT ride his dick.
It's not that Ray is gay. Ray is not gay. Ray may be some whiskey tango, NASCAR-loving, trailer-parking-living zit-popper, but he's not gay. He just happens to like Walt. He likes Walt being happy and perky -- not like perky tits -- can't he stay on track for five seconds? Maybe he really does need to cut back on the Ripped Fuel. Whatthefuckever. What was he talking about?
Oh, yeah. Walt.
Blond-haired, blue-eyed, baby of the fucking family Walt with his porn star tongue.
Baby of the family Ray's ass.
"Hey, Hasser."
"Yeah."
"When'd you pop your cherry?"
They're sitting in the truck waiting on command to stop fucking each other up the ass and make a goddamn decision. They should be here for –- oh, fucking ever. Brad glances over at Ray but doesn't say anything; Reporter stirs in the backseat. Trombley's off fucking up somebody else's shitter, and he's left Ray surrounded by the people in the truck with brains.
Maybe he shouldn't have said that aloud.
Oh, well.
Walt crouches down from the turret. "When'd I what?"
"When'd you pop your cherry?" Ray repeats. Too late now.
Walt chuckles. "When I fucked your mom last week."
Reporter snickers. Ray turns around to look at Walt sprawled out in the back. Legs open. Kevlar tilted up. That fucking tongue just poking out. God fucking damnit. Ray is not even thinking about climbing back there too. Not even a little bit. "Oh, was that you?" Ray says. "She said some mosquito bit her last week; I didn't realize your dick was that small."
The LT's voice crackles over the hook. "All Victors, we are Oscar Mike."
Walt smirks at Ray before standing back up in the turret. Ray's just going to ignore the curious look from Brad.
"TROMBLEY!" he hollers out the window. "Get your fucking psycho ass in here, before we leave you for the camels and wild dogs!"
So, maybe Ray likes Walt. Not like in that homosexual, domestic-partners-adopt-Somalian-babies way, but in that buddies with benefits helps everybody else out way. Mostly Ray wants Walt to be happy, because a sulking Walt is a Walt that just brings down 2-1's whole vibe. The Hummer's too fucking small for more than one person to be sulking about their man problems at a time, and Brad's already got first dibs on pissiness.
After Walt pops that guy in the head and his brains go everywhere like somebody stomped on a huge grape, Walt closes himself off, which doesn't work for Ray at all. If eating like a fucking retard makes Walt laugh then Ray will fucking strip his ass bare and roll around in jalapeno and cheese MREs, which would probably piss the fuck out of Brad, but fuck that.
The LT can take care of Brad.
"Ray, is there something you want to tell me?"
"I came all over your face last night when you were asleep?" Ray offers.
Brad raises an eyebrow. "Anything else?"
Ray blinks. Brad knows. Of course Brad fucking knows. It's fucking Brad. "You're not asking, right?"
Brad shrugs.
"Cause if you're asking, I'm not telling," Ray warns.
Brad sighs. "I'm surrounded by fucking gay retards."
"Oh no you didn't!" Ray snipes, snapping his fingers sharply.
Brad chuckles. "I should've seen this coming. We're running out of dip, you just want something else to put in your mouth."
Ray scowls. "Well, at least he's standing up all day so it doesn't matter if his ass hurts."
Brad ponders this briefly. "This is true."
The best part is that if it doesn't work out nobody will be the wiser, because Ray is a stealth motherfucker –- except for Brad figuring him out. Nobody listens to half of what Ray's saying anyway, so chances are he'll make Walt a proposition and Walt'll think he's talking about something else and then it won't matter anyway. Besides, it's not like Ray can be all obvious about it. He's not some GQ-looking motherfucker like Brad, who can just grin at the LT and have the LT swooning all over the place. Not that the LT swoons. At least Ray hopes he doesn't. That'd be kinda gay. Gayer than Brad's cock up his ass anyway.
Okay, Ray has to stop that train of thought right the fuck now.
"Hasser."
"Nggh."
"Hasser."
"What, motherfucker?! Damn."
"You asleep?"
"Not anymore."
"Oh, sorry."
"No, you're not."
"OW! What the fuck was that for?"
"For waking me up, Person."
"I said I was sorry, shit!"
"Yeah, but you didn't say it like you meant it."
"I'm sorry I woke you up, asshole, happy now?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Trombley hollers from his grave.
"See now," Ray chides in the dark. "You woke up Whopper Jr."
Ray is so not worried about Whopper Jr's ass going all homocrazy and shooting up the place like Ray was Harvey Milk, because Ray would totally sick Brad on Trombley's ass and then that'd be the end of Trombley. And those motherfucking Charms. Huh. Maybe Ray should think on that one more.
Ray is a trained motherfucking killer. Swift, silent and –"Jesus Motherfucking Christ!" he hollers when Walt accosts him in the cigarette factory.
Ray was really not expecting Walt to pull some recon shit and just drop out of the fucking rafters. He scowls when Walt laughs at him. "What the fuck are you laughing at, you fucking Aryan poster child?"
Walt keeps chuckling. "You should've seen your face."
"I could've fucking chopped your head off!" Ray snaps. "I dunno if you heard, but there are fucking Recon Marines around here."
"I think you'd have to get out your KA-BAR first," Walt points out.
Ray purses his lips. "You're a fucking retard, Hasser."
Walt takes a step into Ray's personal space, and all of Ray's antennae go up. "Yeah, but you like me anyway."
Ray licks his lips. "I dunno what the fuck you're talking about. You've been in the sun too long."
Walt takes another step forward, and Ray takes a step back. Ow! Where the fuck did that column come from? Ray looks around wildly. Where the fuck are they anyway? Oh, right, the cigarette factory. This place is infested with Marines. "Back the fuck up," Ray warns.
Walt just cocks his head to the side. "Why?"
"Because you're too fucking close!" Ray whaps Walt in the chest. It hurts. Fucking ceramic chest plates.
Walt's tongue peeks out. That's dirty pool. "You know you're kind of cute when you shut the fuck up for a minute."
Ray's can feel his eyes trying to climb out of his head. "I'm not fucking 'cute'!" he hisses, stomping on Walt's toes when he gets in Walt's face to make his point.
"Yeah, you are," Walt teases, right before he leans in and kisses Ray.
Ray was so not expecting that, however, he was totally right about Walt's tongue: it's Grade XXX porn star quality. Just like Walt's mouth, and Walt grabbing his ears and fucking Ray's mouth with his tongue.
Ray doesn't whimper when Walt pulls away. That would be bad.
Walt just smirks at him. Asshole.
"Brad's looking for you." Walt says after a moment.
Ray just touches his mouth. Brad's going to know. Of course, Brad's going to know. Brad -– "Brad sent you to get me?" he asks.
Walt shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe I volunteered."
"You scheming motherfuckers," Ray protests as Walt grabs his arm and starts dragging him away.
"You're protesting a lot for somebody who just had his tongue in my mouth, " Walt says in Ray's ear as Ray stumbles alongside him.
Ray digs in his heels. "You started it."
Walt closes the space between them again. "Well, we could finish it with your cock in my mouth," he offers. "Unless you want my cock up your ass first."
Ray gapes.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Walt presses.
Ray shakes his head.
Walt starts dragging him along, again. "Yeah, didn't think so."
"Did you just scam me?" Ray protests as they start passing by other Marines.
Walt pauses just outside the courtyard. Brad's about twenty feet away talking to the LT. "Yeah, I did," he says proudly. "But you like it."
Ray is not pouting. Not even a little –
"Ray! Stop trying to measure your dick with a microscope and get over here!" Brad calls.
Ray's ears go hot -- sometimes he really hates Brad. But then Walt smirks, touches his upper lip with the tip of his tongue -– and Ray thinks that sometimes he may really hate Brad, but today's probably not one of those days.
-end-
This is forsparky77, who agreed that they are totally MFEO.
antheia2. I have watched two episodes of Merlin and yeah okay, I totally cave. It's crackier than cracky. It's like Smallville does Camelot. It's like due South does Camelot. It's like -- okay, forget everything you know about Camelot -- and just stick two boys in Oxford and call it Camelot, because if that building is Camelot my name is fucking Morgana. Personally I blame
rageprufrock who was all Arthur is the Prince of Wales, and I think historically I was all "WTF?!" and then I read her story and was like, oh, c'mon, it can't be that cracked out. I was wrong, bitches, wrong. I have a post-it next to my desk -- sort of a chartreuse color actually -- that has the title and hook for my first Merlin story, I just have to get my angle, which is why sparky77 has to hurry up and watch so she can fling ideas at my head. Wow. That was a lot of excitement there. Um, where was I? Oh, yes, in the meantime I'm trying something different.Generation Kill
Ray Person/Walt Hasser, Brad/Nate (of course)
Rated
Or Vice Versa.
Or Everybody Goes Gay in the Military Eventually.
In the end, it's not Ray's fault.
It's really not.
Personally, he blames Walt's tongue. Because it's there. And whenever Walt's thinking hard or working hard or whatever –- he sticks it out. Not all the way out, just enough to let Ray know it's there, and okay, what the fuck ever.
It's Walt's fault.
Walt has a porn star tongue.
Ray's never seen a porn star tongue, just cocksucker lips, and a whole lot of silicone and magic, ping-pong ball blowing pussy –- thank you, Thailand –- but if there were such a thing as porn star tongue, Walt would have it. It would be pink and wet, and Ray can just imagine Walt licking his dick like –-
"RAY!"
Wow, Ray didn't even see that berm there.
"My bad, Brad."
Ray doesn't think he's staring. He hopes to god he's not staring, because that would be gay. Like extra special gay. Like extra special education, go-home-on-the-short-bus-retard gay. It's not his fault though, because Walt's kind of sprawled out on the hood of the hummer, stroking the Mark-19 like it's his baby or his girl or his dick, and he's licking his lips, which probably taste like spaghetti MREs and Haji desert ass.
Ass.
"RAY!"
Ray blinks up at Brad. "Yeah?"
"Is there some reason you're stroking the hook like it's a fucking combat jack?"
Ray looks down at the phone in his hand and then back up at Brad.
When did he get out of the truck? Oh yeah, to see what Walt was up to.
"I'm just practicing my stroke for later," Ray grins. "I know how you like me to practice."
Brad rolls his eyes. "Ray, I wouldn't touch your whiskey tango, trailer-park ratfucking, clap-spreading ass with somebody else's dick."
Ray just grins even more.
Brad wouldn't touch his ass sure -– but only cause he's too busy letting the LT ride his dick.
It's not that Ray is gay. Ray is not gay. Ray may be some whiskey tango, NASCAR-loving, trailer-parking-living zit-popper, but he's not gay. He just happens to like Walt. He likes Walt being happy and perky -- not like perky tits -- can't he stay on track for five seconds? Maybe he really does need to cut back on the Ripped Fuel. Whatthefuckever. What was he talking about?
Oh, yeah. Walt.
Blond-haired, blue-eyed, baby of the fucking family Walt with his porn star tongue.
Baby of the family Ray's ass.
"Hey, Hasser."
"Yeah."
"When'd you pop your cherry?"
They're sitting in the truck waiting on command to stop fucking each other up the ass and make a goddamn decision. They should be here for –- oh, fucking ever. Brad glances over at Ray but doesn't say anything; Reporter stirs in the backseat. Trombley's off fucking up somebody else's shitter, and he's left Ray surrounded by the people in the truck with brains.
Maybe he shouldn't have said that aloud.
Oh, well.
Walt crouches down from the turret. "When'd I what?"
"When'd you pop your cherry?" Ray repeats. Too late now.
Walt chuckles. "When I fucked your mom last week."
Reporter snickers. Ray turns around to look at Walt sprawled out in the back. Legs open. Kevlar tilted up. That fucking tongue just poking out. God fucking damnit. Ray is not even thinking about climbing back there too. Not even a little bit. "Oh, was that you?" Ray says. "She said some mosquito bit her last week; I didn't realize your dick was that small."
The LT's voice crackles over the hook. "All Victors, we are Oscar Mike."
Walt smirks at Ray before standing back up in the turret. Ray's just going to ignore the curious look from Brad.
"TROMBLEY!" he hollers out the window. "Get your fucking psycho ass in here, before we leave you for the camels and wild dogs!"
So, maybe Ray likes Walt. Not like in that homosexual, domestic-partners-adopt-Somalian-babies way, but in that buddies with benefits helps everybody else out way. Mostly Ray wants Walt to be happy, because a sulking Walt is a Walt that just brings down 2-1's whole vibe. The Hummer's too fucking small for more than one person to be sulking about their man problems at a time, and Brad's already got first dibs on pissiness.
After Walt pops that guy in the head and his brains go everywhere like somebody stomped on a huge grape, Walt closes himself off, which doesn't work for Ray at all. If eating like a fucking retard makes Walt laugh then Ray will fucking strip his ass bare and roll around in jalapeno and cheese MREs, which would probably piss the fuck out of Brad, but fuck that.
The LT can take care of Brad.
"Ray, is there something you want to tell me?"
"I came all over your face last night when you were asleep?" Ray offers.
Brad raises an eyebrow. "Anything else?"
Ray blinks. Brad knows. Of course Brad fucking knows. It's fucking Brad. "You're not asking, right?"
Brad shrugs.
"Cause if you're asking, I'm not telling," Ray warns.
Brad sighs. "I'm surrounded by fucking gay retards."
"Oh no you didn't!" Ray snipes, snapping his fingers sharply.
Brad chuckles. "I should've seen this coming. We're running out of dip, you just want something else to put in your mouth."
Ray scowls. "Well, at least he's standing up all day so it doesn't matter if his ass hurts."
Brad ponders this briefly. "This is true."
The best part is that if it doesn't work out nobody will be the wiser, because Ray is a stealth motherfucker –- except for Brad figuring him out. Nobody listens to half of what Ray's saying anyway, so chances are he'll make Walt a proposition and Walt'll think he's talking about something else and then it won't matter anyway. Besides, it's not like Ray can be all obvious about it. He's not some GQ-looking motherfucker like Brad, who can just grin at the LT and have the LT swooning all over the place. Not that the LT swoons. At least Ray hopes he doesn't. That'd be kinda gay. Gayer than Brad's cock up his ass anyway.
Okay, Ray has to stop that train of thought right the fuck now.
"Hasser."
"Nggh."
"Hasser."
"What, motherfucker?! Damn."
"You asleep?"
"Not anymore."
"Oh, sorry."
"No, you're not."
"OW! What the fuck was that for?"
"For waking me up, Person."
"I said I was sorry, shit!"
"Yeah, but you didn't say it like you meant it."
"I'm sorry I woke you up, asshole, happy now?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Trombley hollers from his grave.
"See now," Ray chides in the dark. "You woke up Whopper Jr."
Ray is so not worried about Whopper Jr's ass going all homocrazy and shooting up the place like Ray was Harvey Milk, because Ray would totally sick Brad on Trombley's ass and then that'd be the end of Trombley. And those motherfucking Charms. Huh. Maybe Ray should think on that one more.
Ray is a trained motherfucking killer. Swift, silent and –"Jesus Motherfucking Christ!" he hollers when Walt accosts him in the cigarette factory.
Ray was really not expecting Walt to pull some recon shit and just drop out of the fucking rafters. He scowls when Walt laughs at him. "What the fuck are you laughing at, you fucking Aryan poster child?"
Walt keeps chuckling. "You should've seen your face."
"I could've fucking chopped your head off!" Ray snaps. "I dunno if you heard, but there are fucking Recon Marines around here."
"I think you'd have to get out your KA-BAR first," Walt points out.
Ray purses his lips. "You're a fucking retard, Hasser."
Walt takes a step into Ray's personal space, and all of Ray's antennae go up. "Yeah, but you like me anyway."
Ray licks his lips. "I dunno what the fuck you're talking about. You've been in the sun too long."
Walt takes another step forward, and Ray takes a step back. Ow! Where the fuck did that column come from? Ray looks around wildly. Where the fuck are they anyway? Oh, right, the cigarette factory. This place is infested with Marines. "Back the fuck up," Ray warns.
Walt just cocks his head to the side. "Why?"
"Because you're too fucking close!" Ray whaps Walt in the chest. It hurts. Fucking ceramic chest plates.
Walt's tongue peeks out. That's dirty pool. "You know you're kind of cute when you shut the fuck up for a minute."
Ray's can feel his eyes trying to climb out of his head. "I'm not fucking 'cute'!" he hisses, stomping on Walt's toes when he gets in Walt's face to make his point.
"Yeah, you are," Walt teases, right before he leans in and kisses Ray.
Ray was so not expecting that, however, he was totally right about Walt's tongue: it's Grade XXX porn star quality. Just like Walt's mouth, and Walt grabbing his ears and fucking Ray's mouth with his tongue.
Ray doesn't whimper when Walt pulls away. That would be bad.
Walt just smirks at him. Asshole.
"Brad's looking for you." Walt says after a moment.
Ray just touches his mouth. Brad's going to know. Of course, Brad's going to know. Brad -– "Brad sent you to get me?" he asks.
Walt shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe I volunteered."
"You scheming motherfuckers," Ray protests as Walt grabs his arm and starts dragging him away.
"You're protesting a lot for somebody who just had his tongue in my mouth, " Walt says in Ray's ear as Ray stumbles alongside him.
Ray digs in his heels. "You started it."
Walt closes the space between them again. "Well, we could finish it with your cock in my mouth," he offers. "Unless you want my cock up your ass first."
Ray gapes.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Walt presses.
Ray shakes his head.
Walt starts dragging him along, again. "Yeah, didn't think so."
"Did you just scam me?" Ray protests as they start passing by other Marines.
Walt pauses just outside the courtyard. Brad's about twenty feet away talking to the LT. "Yeah, I did," he says proudly. "But you like it."
Ray is not pouting. Not even a little –
"Ray! Stop trying to measure your dick with a microscope and get over here!" Brad calls.
Ray's ears go hot -- sometimes he really hates Brad. But then Walt smirks, touches his upper lip with the tip of his tongue -– and Ray thinks that sometimes he may really hate Brad, but today's probably not one of those days.
-end-
This is for
sparky77, who agreed that they are totally MFEO.
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