idealists are the cruelest monsters of them all.

Even worse was the night that Nate got really drunk and called Natalie and, you know, Ray enlisted too, so she was alone and he was alone and it was really, really tempting, because she *got* it and understood. It would have been so easy though, and that's what stopped him, because he didn't want easy, he didn't want it to fall into place. He wanted to have to work for it, have to want it really badly to make it all come together.

He never quite told Brad about that time, and he thinks it's probably the only secret he really has from Brad. Though, knowing his luck, Natalie told Ray and Brad knows and he's just *waiting* for Nate to confess.

(DO NOT SUPPLY WITH ME WITH EMO POSSIBILITIES. HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?)

Brad likes it when Nate's on his back on the bed and Brad's scratching and pinching at one nipple with his hand and his tongue is flicking over the other and Nate's arched up off the bed and making those gasping, desperate noises, his cock leaking against Brad's forearm and when Brad's teeth scrape the one nipple, it's a close thing that Nate doesn't come just from that.

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Natalie wouldn't have done it. It wouldn't be worth it for either one of them. Ray would've been crushed, Brad would've been murderous and Nate... Natalie does not need anymore emo!Nate in her life. She loves him, just not enough to sleep with him. Plus, she's not afraid of Brad, but she's seen how Brad is around Nate. They're not rational about each other and irrational men are always something to be avoided.

WRT to Nate's nipples, I think Brad has this dream about Nate tied up and ice cubes and when he gets home from his second tour on one of the carriers, it's all he can think about. He's home like three minutes before he's at Nate's house and Mrs. Fick wants to talk to him and Brad's like, "I promise I will come back later and we will talk all you want and I will answer everything, but I'm taking your son right now to defile and you don't really want to stop me. Promise. And back to the Marriott it is... and while Nate's disrobing, Brad's at the ice machine. He comes back in the room, Nate's hard as marble just with the anticipation, and Brad drops most of the ice on the floor, because he's been waiting, and he's only patient, because he has to be, I think that's something people don't quite get. If he has to be patient, he's like a monk, but Nate, naked and waiting? Instant gratifcation o-rama. By the time Brad's satisfied and Nate's fucked out, most of the ice is melted, but there are a few cubes in the bottom of the bucket and Brad brings it over, sets it by Nate's shoulder, straddles him and started rubbing Nate's nipples with one dripping cube after another. And it's cruel and perfect. The water melting all over Nate's chest, the way he writhes underneath Bead, completely overstimulated but unable to stop begging....

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"Fu...Br...Je..." Nate's not capable of full words, much less complete sentences. His body is tight as a steel cord and his cock is impossibly hard again and he's right on the edge where pleasure becomes pain. His whole body is beaded with goose bumps and shimmering with the sweat of restraint where the water hasn't melted on his skin. His head is thrown back and his throat feels thick with the words he can't quite get out cutting off his air.

Brad's ass is against Nate's cock and Nate's hips keep rolling upward, stroking against the hard flesh, rubbing against the crease of Brad's ass. They're both covered in lube and come and it's pretty clear that they're goign to have to find a new hotel once the Marriott sees the mess they've made, but Nate doesn't give a fuck about that or anything else right now, not now that Brad's just got a sliver of ice left and it hurts, the cold like a dagger into Nate's chest.

"F...fu..." He bucks his hips harder and Brad catches himself, unwilling to be deterred from the task at hand. Nate keeps trying for control, but he can't do anything but raise his head and then slam it back onto the pillow. His fingers rake long red streaks down Brad's thighs and Nate moans at the sight of the marks on Brad's skin.

"Keep it up and I'm going to have to restrain you." Brad's voice is level, but it's not quite right, fragile with want and that strange awe he gets when he stares down at Nate, when he watches Nate respond to him. "Have some zip ties in my bag."

Nate jerks hard, cock slapping at Brad's ass. "Pl..."

Brad leans forward, his cool, wet hands brushing Nate's upper arms before he sets them on the bed and shifts his weight, his ass lifting as he bows his head and takes one of Nate's nipples in his mouth, soothing the frozen cold with the heat of his mouth. Nate's body spasms from the extreme and he slams his head back again, the loud thump of it against the wooden headboard doing nothing to stop Brad's mouth.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," Nate can't count them as words, because he doesn't actually form them. They spring to his lips and fall out into the air conditioned room completely of their own free will. His cock is brushing against Brad's balls and he wants to just thrust up and penetrate the swollen flesh of Brad's ass, wants to fuck him through the intense play of sensation sparking like needle pricks through his skin. His head slams back again and he hears the headboard, the whole bed feeling like it's moving with him. The next time though, one of Brad's hands is there, cradling him, his damp fingers in Nate's hair.

Brad murmurs against Nate's chest, not stopping the licking and sucking and biting and Nate's over the edge, free-falling, heels and shoulders the only things on the bed despite Brad's weight on top of him. He feels the sweat and heat of Brad's balls against the tip of his cock as he comes and groans as Brad shifts back and catches his spunk between them, writhing on top of him like a lap dance in some coming-of-age movie. Nate almost laughs, but it comes out a sob and Brad finally stops mouthing at his nipples - sore and swollen and red and fuck, Nate's not going to be able to go shirtless anywhere - and rests his head on Nate's shoulder.

"'s so fucking funny?" Brad's words are slurred, his mouth bitten and swollen and well-fucked.

Nate shakes his head, not to deny him an answer, but because he can't remember how to form words. After a moment, he exhales and shakes his head again. "You're a hooker with a heart of gold."

"Is that what I am?"

"Mmm." Nate opens his eyes, not actually aware that they'd fallen shut, and looks at Brad as he moves. "Where're you going?"

Brad kneels beside Nate and leans in, his tongue slipping past his lips and sliding along Nate's abdomen, licking up come and fuck knows what else. "If 'm a hooker, you'd better get your money's worth."

From:

sparky77.livejournal.com

Sleep. I am supposed to sleeping, not thinking about the kinky sex creative people like Brad and Nate could be having.

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But...but...Yeah, me too. Heee.

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The next time though, one of Brad's hands is there, cradling him, his damp fingers in Nate's hair.

See, it's these little details that kill me ded.

Nate almost laughs, but it comes out a sob and Brad finally stops mouthing at his nipples - sore and swollen and red and fuck, Nate's not going to be able to go shirtless anywhere - and rests his head on Nate's shoulder.

Christ on a cross, woman! That was - I don't even know what that was. I think I'm still in shock.

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The worst thing is that Nate's not sure he can wear a *shirt* over his nipples either. Brad's going to get some serious payback as soon as Nate's body remembers how to do things like move and breathe and think and stuff. Okay, maybe not that soon, but *soon*.

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When you run marathons you put KY on your nipples. Trufax. Bloody, chaffed nipples?! SO BAD....

Except Nate wakes up a few hours later, sticky and used and his chest hurts. His nipples are't these pink little centers on his chest, they're these red and purple bruises. Living bruises. They ache when he's just breathing, and his cock stirs, filling as the pain registers in Nate's brain.

He can't help touching, because this is what happens when Brad's home. Nate gets marked. Brad gets marked, but this... this is new.

Nate's cock jerks hard against his thigh as he brushes his left nipple, just the lightest of touches has him arching off the bed. Hissing with the pain.

And all Nate wants is to do it again. Feel what Brad's done to him.

He reaches down again only to find his hand stayed by Brad's fingers around his wrist. "If you break the toys, I don't get to use them again," he teases.

They're angled on the bed in such a way that Nate's head is mostly resting on Brad's shoulder and the edge of Brad's pillow. Nate has to crane his head back to see Brad. Brad whose lips are dry and puffy. Brad -- whose tongue is just a pink hint as he slides it over those same dry lips.

Nate stares. "You sore?" Brad says softly.

Nate tries to inhale but can't quite make the whole effort, so he just nods.

"Would fucking me make it better?" Brad asks.

Nate licks the back of his own teeth. Maybe his voice is hiding back there. He mumbles something and Brad has to move, shift down the bed, get closer to Nate's mouth, closer to Nate's nipples.

Nate looses this whimper when Brad's tongue laves over his bruised chest. It's just the slightest touch, Brad's tongue at his left nipple, but it's too much. Nate grabs at Brad... but his regulation hair is too short to make it work. Instead Nate ends up being restrained by Brad's hands, being rolled onto his back and held down as Brad's slick, wet tongue flickers over his abused and aching nipples.

It's too much, too good. Brad lifts his head, mouth shiny. "I'm going to sit on your face, now. Your choice, my cock in your mouth or your tongue up my ass."

Nate's mouth falls open to reply and Brad smirks. "Then I'll make the choice for you."

Seconds later, Nate's hands are free, which is good, because now he has them wrapped around Brad's thighs, holding Brad in place as Brad writhes above him, jerks himself off, shoving his ass on Nate's tongue, the knuckles of his hand occasionally dragging over Nate's forehead as Brad tugs on his balls, jerks himself off and tries to fuck himself with Nate's mouth.

His nipples still ache, but they're being superceded by Nate's desire to fuck Brad every way possible. To have just as much of this as he can. Above him Brad's cursing up a storm. Talking about Nate's mouth and Nate's tongue and all the ways he wants Nate to fuck him until he can't move at all.

Nate has to stop what he's doing. Has to rather awkwardly roll Brad over until Brad's on his back, and Nate's sprawled between his legs now. He sits up on his heels, fists his own cock, watching Brad touch himself and watching Brad watching him.

Nate can feel the spit on his chin. Taste Brad on his tongue. He braces himself over Brad, rubs the head of his cock behind Brad's balls. "I'm going to fuck you now," he says. "Beg me more it."

He's rewarded by Brad making a choked off noise as he comes all over his fist. Nate grins. "Close enough."

Edited Date: 2009-07-16 04:31 pm (UTC)

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I hope they have a serious stock of Gatorade in that room. They're going to need some replenishing.

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Room service is close enough. Brad gives the waiter $40 just to go down to the hotel gift shop and buy them 3 containers of Gatorade (he's not interested in getting dressed). And it has to be red Gatorade. Not the yellow or orange. Blue's okay though, Brad has a weird thing about watching Nate's tongue turn blue.

Re: I can&amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

alethialia.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 04:41 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

hackthis.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 04:47 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

his cock stirs, filling as the pain registers in Nate's brain.

Oh, dear...

He reaches down again only to find his hand stayed by Brad's fingers around his wrist. "If you break the toys, I don't get to use them again,"

And that would be a goddamn shame!

Brad making a choked off noise as he comes all over his fist. Nate grins. "Close enough."

...yeah, I'm done.

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That's supposed to beg me FOR it. Kind of kills the finish when it's the wrong damn word!

Ah, the problem with me just typing and posting without editing.

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sffan.livejournal.com

*dies*

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They're *such* good boys.

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Yurrrrrr.

no, really, I just. i died.

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My love for them is EPIC.

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*looks around her at all the heaps of porn and fucked out characters*

Well, baby, I have good news. I can finally see Brad and Nate filthing it up on par with with John and Ben now.

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Well, baby, I have good news. I can finally see Brad and Nate filthing it up on par with with John and Ben now.

AHAHAHAHAAAAA!

I'm so ridiculously proud.

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

hackthis.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 04:45 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

John and Ben have been inspiring for them. Now we need more Southland porn.

*

Ben's sprawled out on the bed, face down and spread-eagled. John watches him from the doorway, his hip cocked against the frame and one arm across his chest as the other lifts his beer to his mouth. Ben's naked, which John approves of, even though he knows he should go back out to the couch and stop watching Ben. He's here as babysitter, not as anything else, and he knows it, isn't about to step over that boundary. Sherman's on pain meds and exhaustion, burnt out from too much work, too much stress and too many fucking idiots in the greater Los Angeles area. Of course, getting himself hit by a car probably didn't help.

"What am I gonna do with you, Sherman?"

Ben makes a sound, a moan, and his body shifts on the bed. John's spent enough time dry humping his hand and against the mattress to recognize the move and now he really needs to get the fuck out of here. He's a firm believer in the privacy of someone's mind and fantasies, given that he spent too many years of his marriage jerking off in private, replacing Laura in his bed with nameless, faceless men.

Instead, John finds himself walking forward. There are dark bruises on Ben's skin and John very carefully reaches out, ghosting his hand over them without touching. Touching Ben would be a very bad thing. Touching Ben wouldn't stop at tracing the bruises. Touching Ben would lead to kissing Ben, to sucking Ben, to fucking Ben and John doesn't screw his partners. John knows that screwing someone just gives them a reason to screw you over and John needs someone watching his back, not sinking a knife into it.

Ben moans again, his back arching slightly as he grinds down against the mattress. His hips roll in slow circles and John has to swallow hard and shove his free hand in his pocket to keep it still, the other closing tight around his beer bottle. "You okay, Ben?" He could be in pain. John clings to that fragile excuse as he sets the beer down and moves his hand up and touches Ben's shoulder. "Ben?"

A hard shudder wracks Ben's body and he whimpers softly. He's thrusting and writhing against the mattress and, whatever he's thinking, John wants that feeling bad. It's like desperation, like those forbidden things coming to the surface because Ben's too far out of it to hold them back. John doesn't pull his hand away and Ben turns his head, mouth nuzzling at John's fingers.

John groans and knows he needs to get the fuck out of the room, that this is the equivalent of taking advantage. He jerks his hand away and takes a step back as Ben's mouth opens, searching hungrily. John's cock is a heavy weight between his legs and he needs to get out of here now. Call Chickie and put her on Sherman watch. But he's seen the way Chickie looks at Ben sometimes, and he's not sure he trusts anyone but himself with Sherman stretched out like this, fanned out like he's asking to get a tongue shoved up his ass.

"John?" Ben's voice is soft and confused, but he's smiling. "Hey."

"Hey, Robocop. You think maybe next time you can remember that a fucking Buick is not going to be stopped by your pathetic puny ass?"

"I have a nice ass." Sing-song, fueled by the pain killers. "You think so too."

"I don't think about your ass." John's pretty sure his protest is about as believable as OJ Simpson's, but it's the most he can offer. He knows he's in deep ship when a fucking rookie gets the drop on him.

Ben closes his eyes again, still smiling. "Liar."

Re: It's just a pretty visual...even though there's no visual.

From:

hackthis.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 05:06 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

lazulus

I am working my way through the threads and had to stop and say FINALLY, THANK FUCK!

\o/

Better now.

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

hackthis.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 08:30 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

lazulus - Date: 2009-07-16 08:37 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

From:

hackthis.livejournal.com - Date: 2009-07-16 08:40 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: I can&amp;amp;amp;amp;#39;t believe this didn&amp;amp;amp;amp;#39;t fit in one comment!

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lazulus - Date: 2009-07-16 08:44 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

That's exactly what I thought about Natalie. There's no way she gets embroiled in that mess.

I promise I will come back later and we will talk all you want and I will answer everything, but I'm taking your son right now to defile and you don't really want to stop me. Promise.

AHAHAHA! I wanna see mama!Fick deal gracefully with THAT one!

And just - ::flails:: This is retribution for talking about nipples, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I see what you're doing.

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And just - ::flails:: This is retribution for talking about nipples, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I see what you're doing.

At least I understand Brad's fascination in Get Some now. Sometimes they tell me stuff and I'm like 'o, rilly? uh, okay...if you're sure' but now it ALL makes sense.

What else you got for me?

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I understand Brad's fascination in Get Some now. Sometimes they tell me stuff and I'm like 'o, rilly? uh, okay...if you're sure' but now it ALL makes sense.

::snickers:: Trust in the characters. But granted, who knew wee!Nate was gonna turn out to be some (I accidentally wrote 'come,' gee, I wonder why) angel-faced filthy super-slut? Obviously this is Brad's Iceman skillz coming to the fore early on in life. He could tell.

Oh, look, I made an icon of Stark's nipples. There's a shocker.

What else you got for me?

You want more pictures?!

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I added something on to L's hotel scene already this morning. *nods a lot*

angel-faced filthy super-slut?

That is the perfect PERFECT descriptor.

You want more pictures?!

Well, you know, if you're so inclined... but you have to play too.

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