Fandom: Generation Kill
Word Count: 1,079
Summary: Nate and Brad have sleepy sex in bed.
Notes: This was written for nightanddaze. She knows why. There may or may not have been serial killers involved.
Nate’s always thought headboards were tacky. Between heavy wedges of wood that made the bed look anchored to the wall and wrought-iron curlicues that rang dully when they slammed against plaster, he just didn’t want one. After years without, he’d ended up with one anyway through no fault of his own.
He’d been traveling so much for work that the apartment he bought in Logan Circle was almost completely unfurnished eight months later. His mattress and box spring had simply lain on the floor next to unopened boxes of books. His sister took it upon herself to get the place decorated while he was away. He came back to an apartment out of a realtor’s showroom—bed complete with headboard. It smacks against the wall with a solid thunk every time Brad pins his wrists to the feather pillows from the Calvin Klein bedding collection and thrusts inside him. The neighbors have complained to the super twice.
But now, awake at five AM, lying against Brad’s softly rising and falling chest, there’s a kind of beauty to the headboard. He raises his head and looks at the fingerprints showing up against the dark wood in the watery light. Last night when Brad had hammered against his prostate for the first time after cruelly holding back, Nate’s hands had flown up on the headboard in reflex, fingers curled white-knuckled around the top edge.
Brad had smiled that dirty smirk that had made Nate’s heart pound harder every time he saw it in a face smudged with desert dust and gotten his knees under him. He’d bent and kissed Nate artlessly, teeth grazing Nate’s lower lip; then his hands had come down tight on top of Nate’s clawed fingers. He’d held Nate there while he used the headboard as leverage to shove in harder and faster until Nate’s thigh muscles trembled and he’d had to bite into the muscle of his own bicep to keep from screaming. He grins at the thought.
Brad shifts under him, blowing out a breath. “Mmm, what’s up?” Brad asks, eyelids fluttering. His voice is full of sleep and Nate regrets waking him.
“Nothing, just thinking,” Nate replies softly. He drops a kiss to Brad’s jaw and says, “Go back to sleep.”
Brad ignores him, raising a hand to run his thumb over the deep red bite mark on the meat of Nate’s arm. “What are you thinking about?”
Nate thinks back to a time when Brad didn’t think he was allowed to ask that. That person Brad knew wasn’t the person he knows now. It couldn’t be. They’re both glad that’s behind them.
Nate runs his nose along the elegant swoop of Brad’s collarbone and says, “You.”
“I like it…when you think about me,” Brad replies, voice distant. It’s the kind of unfettered honesty that Nate could never hope to hear when Brad was fully awake. He smiles and strokes down over Brad’s hip, scraping his nails over the jut of Brad’s pelvis. Brad makes a sound in the back of his throat and his eyelids flutter a second time. He rolls Nate further on top of him and connects their mouths in a kiss that makes Nate shiver.
“We need to work on your sleeping habits,” Brad says roughly, lips sliding across Nate’s cheek. He nuzzles at the skin where Nate’s neck meets his jaw and says, “Your circadian rhythms are all fucked up.”
Nate feels Brad’s cock hardening against belly. He wants to say something, but his brain is stubbornly blank. Brad’s hands smooth down his body, fingertips dipping into Nate’s spine, practically pressing him into a catlike arch. Nate lets out a breath and drops his head between his shoulders. Brad’s hand continues down over the dimples at the small of Nate’s back and over his tailbone to slide between Nate’s cheeks. He presses one long finger into Nate’s sore hole and tongues Nate’s pulse as he shudders.
Brad drowsily ruts against him, pre-come wet against Nate’s thigh. He sighs when Nate repositions to bring their dicks together. The rustling of the Frette sheets that his sister picked out sounds loud in the early-morning quiet. He has a hilarious thought about the neighbors complaining that they’re tossing and turning too much.
Nate observes the way Brad’s bicep flexes against the ridge of his shoulder and the way his nipple hardens under Nate’s spread-fingered palm. In the full light of day he doesn’t notice things like this: the way tendons shift and bunch in Brad’s neck, how his calluses catch on Nate’s skin, what their exhaled breaths sound like echoing together.
Nate comes almost without noticing it, Brad’s finger still hooked inside just to remind Nate what it was like when the ring of muscle was spread around Brad’s cockhead. Brad makes an approving sound. He drags his fingers over Nate’s mouth.
His eyes are closed, blond lashes curved against his cheek. It’s like he’s trying to construct Nate’s face inside his head. Nate watches him, drinks up flushed skin and a delicately curved lower lip. He remembers a time when Brad fucked him stupid and then wouldn’t meet his eyes as he pulled his pants on. Back then Brad used to leave his jacket or watch behind just so he would have an excuse to come back again. He bites at the pad of Brad’s fingertip and then sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it. The flush darkens on Brad’s cheeks. He pulls his finger free of Nate’s ass and tightens his arm low around Nate’s hips, directing Nate up against his dick. Nate goes easily, laying his elbows on either side of Brad’s head for balance and driving their hips together slowly. Brad’s grip on his waist loosens even as his rips rise to meet Nate’s.
“Love you,” Brad says just before he comes. Nate doubts he even knows what he’s said. He bends his head and kisses the word out of Brad’s mouth.
He loves the fact that Brad’s jaw so perfectly fits his hand. There are times when Nate thinks Brad was made just for his consumption. See how easily they slide into place. Brad relaxes against him, drifting back into sleep. Nate carefully extricates himself and pads over to the bathroom to clean up. Brad rolls over into Nate’s side of the bed and shoves his arm up under the pillows. His presence in the bed makes Nate enjoy the headboard a whole lot more.