hackthis_archive | Generation Kill - Aqua Vitae (Nate/Brad, NC-17)

Written for

romanticalgirl. Love to all. Snafus by me.

Generation Kill
Nate/Brad
NC-17

Aqua Vitae

For Nate, showering is a religious experience.

He may not believe in God, but he believes in the healing power of a good shower. Nate believes in the restorative properties of a strong spray pounding against his aching muscles and sending the dirt, sweat and soap in his hair running along his skin and down the drain.

He revels in the feel of water running down the crack of his ass and the way the soap lathers between his hands enough that he can masturbate and call it 'getting cleaned up.'

Nate never truly understood the all consuming passion of a decent shower until he joined the Corps, and even then he wasn't that bothered until Iraq. After that particular experience of wearing the same clothes forever and smelling himself all the damn time, washing became an entirely different practice.

What had once been perfunctory -- in all kinds of ways -- became an experience. Water pressure. The number of openings in a showerhead. How long the hot water could actually run until it ran out -- these are the sort of the things that now interest Nate.

When he came back from Iraq, he actually rented a hotel room just for the multiple showerheads in the bathroom. He'd rented it for some other reasons too, but the 25% that wasn't accounted for by having sex with Brad without someone interrupting (50%) or the chance to sleep on a real bed (25%)?

That was about the power of a good shower.

In fact, when Nate first moved to Cambridge, the second thing he did was locate the local hardware store and indulge in one of the more expensive showerheads he could find.

Nate doesn't give a shit about massage settings and whether or not you can remove the head -- he's not a girl, he's not using it to get off -- Nate cares about the pressure. About the feel of the water beating down on his back and shoulders. He wants as much as he can get, whenever he can get it.

Nate wants to feel like he's being inundated, not like he's five years old and running through the sprinklers in his parents' front lawn again.

Ducking his head under the spray, he washes the soap off of his face and from behind his ears, twitching when there's a blast of cold air from his right. He opens his eyes, the water running in his face, to see the shower curtain pulled back halfway and Brad standing fully-dressed in the doorway.

"You're back from the store," Nate says conversationally. "Did you find what it was you were looking for?"

"It turns out they don't sell what I want at the store," Brad says thoughtfully.

Nate can't help but chuckle. "Did you even ask?"

"I got down the block and realized there was nothing I needed that wasn't already here."

Nate exhales softly, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the cold air Brad's letting in. "You're letting all the heat out," he says anyway, turning his back on Brad.

He can feel Brad's eyes on him as he picks up the bar of soap, lathers his hands, sets the soap back down and then rubs his hands over his chest before turning back into the water. "And all the steam."

"Complaining about a little change in the temperature, sir? I see civilian life has made you soft," Brad says. There's a pause where Nate can feel Brad's eyes sweeping over him. "Well, maybe not entirely."

Nate chuckles into the shower streams. "You're going to flood the floor," he points out, the water beating against his lips as he speaks.

He brushes the water out of his eyes to glance over at Brad, but Brad's just leaning against the doorframe, watching. Yes, Nate's shudder has nothing to do with the temperature change in the bathroom.

Nate picks up the soap again, working up a good lather before rubbing his hands over his chest and then sliding them downward. His fingers slide through the soapy hairs around his cock and he gives himself a long, leisurely stroke. And then another.

The water beats against his torso as he cuts another look at Brad, who now has his arms crossed over his chest. Nate smirks and goes back to the task at hand as it were.

A twist of his wrist, a flick of his thumb, a tug on his balls with his free hand. Rinse. Repeat.

A long groan echoes against the tiling, and Nate would think it was him except he's too busy biting his lip to make any noise that vocal.

There's a blur of motion and then the shower curtain is being fully pushed aside and Brad's climbing in behind Nate.

Nate twitches as Brad wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him flush against Brad's body.

"You could've taken your clothes off first," Nate says as Brad nuzzles at his ear. The water splattering against Nate's chest sends a fine mist onto Brad's face.

"Details, sir," Brad says. "Unimportant details."

Nate turns his head towards the feel of Brad's lips against the shell of the ear. "Besides," Brad says, "you know I do my best work in the water."

Nate's laugh is swallowed up in kissing Brad, and Brad's tongue in his mouth, and the feel of Brad's fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking him. Nate murmurs his approval as Brad uses both of his hands, one cupping Nate's balls and rolling them between slick fingers and the other jerking Nate off.

"Fuck," Nate chants as Brad's thumb teases the head of his cock, and Brad laughs.

"One thing at a time," he promises. "First, I think we need to get you cleaned up."

"That was the point of me being in the—"

Nate's entire world is thrown off balance when the hard squeeze on his cock and the sharp nip on his shoulder is followed by Brad moving away and stinging bites and a wet tongue down the length of Nate's spine.

Nate can feel Brad sliding down his body, the wet cotton and denim rubbing against Nate's skin along with Brad's sure hands, and then Brad's fingers are spreading Nate open.

Nate tries to brace himself against the wall, and he winds up with his left hand splayed against the tiling and the right grabbing at the shower rod, which is rather thankfully built into the wall.

"Jesus, Brad!"

"Jesus, Nate?" Brad teases, his fingers rubbing against Nate consideringly. "When did you become religious? Where's the soap?"

Soap? Jesus? "What?" Nate glances down to see Brad picking up the soap from the floor of the shower and rubbing his hands together, lathering them up thoroughly.

Nate groans in anticipation of something that happens mere seconds later when Brad's fingers begin rubbing his entrance in earnest. Nate grips a little harder at the shower rod. It feels a lot less sturdy than it did a few moments ago.

"Are you having some problems keeping up, do I need to draw you a diagram?" Brad asks, the tip of his finger breaching Nate and then sliding back out.

"Shut up, Brad," Nate says without any heat. Speaking of heat, though, the shower is cooling down fractionally. Nate could probably try and adjust the water, but that would require some form of movement besides the way he's pushing back at Brad's fingers.

Brad bites him on the ass and Nate twitches. "Somebody's feeling eager," Brad teases.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up already?" Nate asks.

"Did you know cleanliness is next to godliness?" Brad says conversationally.

"Why all the religious talk from the atheist?"

Nate makes this wanton noise when Brad slides one long finger inside of him. "Because I'm going to make you see God," Brad says. "You should tell him I said he's a fraud."

"Fuck him," Nate exhales a very shaky breath. "And fuck you, too, if you don't hurry up."

Brad laughs and adds another finger. The shower rod makes a very discernable creaking noise when Nate tightens his grip. He's going to have to make another trip to the home improvement store, but he doesn't really care because Brad's got two fingers inside of him.

The only way this could be improved, would be if -–

"Let go."

Brad's at such an angle behind him that Nate can't really look down at him and glare, but he gives it his best shot. "Let go?" he parrots. "So, I can die by concussion in the bathroom? How, exactly, would you explain that one to the men? 'We were having sex in the bathroom, and then Nate let go of the shower rod, landed on his head and died with my fingers up his ass?'"

Brad chuckles and then bites his ass again, Nate's cock twitches. Great, yet another Brad related sex-kink.

"Let go, I've got you," Brad coaxes, removing his fingers to grip Nate's waist, and Nate. Well, Nate lets go.

His feet slide forward for a moment and he really thinks this might end in disaster, but then he's being pulled back and down against Brad, and it's okay. Just like it always is with Brad.

"I told you so," Brad mocks, holding Nate against him as water rains down on them.

Nate rolls his eyes at the ceiling of the shower. "I don't know about you, but my plan for today didn't involve dry humping and wet denim against my ass, so if you could take off your clothes, your country would appreciate it."

"My country?" Brad laughs against Nate's neck. "What the fuck does that have to do with it?"

"Stop being difficult and strip already," Nate orders, even as Brad's pushing him forward to step around him. And then Brad's on his feet, his back to the shower, dark eyes and amused mouth blocking out the water as he pulls off his wet clothes, dropping them on the bathroom floor to leak pools of water all over the place.

Brad's dog tags swing against his chest for a moment with all the movement, catching Nate's attention, and then Brad's on his knees. Nate tugs him forward, his fingers tangled in the body-warmed chain of Brad's ID tags.

This kiss is all teeth and heat and raw need. The shower has gone lukewarm, but that's pretty irrelevant with Brad kneeling between Nate's legs, and Brad pushing Nate down at the same time that Nate's pulling Brad forward. They become this ungainly sprawl of legs and arms in the bottom of the shower.

There's a lot more leverage in the bottom of the shower, more places to put arms and legs, to push back against and press forward. With the water rushing around them and above them, it's a little bit like paradise and a lot like the best thing ever. Especially when Brad braces above Nate and Nate takes them both in hand, stroking them together as Brad fucks into the circle of Nate's grasp.

Brad's dog tags dance against Nate's skin with their thrusts, and Brad's eyes are dark and focused as he pants, lips red and swollen. Brad's mouth is so close to Nate's that they're just passing back and forth the same air, the shower spray flying around them.

Nate licks the water from Brad's mouth, and then Brad's coming, his entire body going rigid above Nate. Nate's triumphant smile curls the corners of his mouth until Brad wraps a hand around Nate's own and strokes him to completion.

"Shit," Nate says, coming hard enough to bang his head against the wall of the shower. He should've known they wouldn't be able to get away without some sort of bruising.

He blinks up at Brad as Brad sits up and turns off the water. "I feel like we've missed the point of showering," Nate says. "I'm just as dirty as I was when I got in."

Brad smiles sharply. "Well then, sir, I'm afraid we're just going to have to do it again."

"You're very demanding," Nate says thoughtfully.

"I have a high standard of quality," Brad says solemnly. "I get it from the Corps."

Nate laughs. "Oh, is that what you get from the Corps?"

Brad pretends to think this over. "Well, I've got this smart ass, Ivy League brat, Gandhi-type cocksucker boyfriend, but that's not important."

Nate raises an eyebrow. "That's not important?"

Brad stands up and climbs out of the shower, leaving Nate to get up on his own.

"No, that's not really important," Brad says, grabbing a towel and drying his hair. "Unless you think that sort of stuff's important," he amends, lowering the towel after a brief moment. "Which I do."

Nate grabs the other towel off the rack and smacks Brad's ass with it. "Asshole."

Brad's grin is blinding. "It's why you like me."

Nate rolls his eyes. "Clearly."

-end-

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