Generation Kill; Colbert/Fick
6 August 2008 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wrennetteTitle: Home
Pairing: Lt. Nate Fick x Sgt. Brad Colbert
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbeta-ed. Slightly spoilery. PWP.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not factual.
Summary: Set after the HBO series and the book. Based on two facts in the Afterward of the 2008 reprint of the book, that Colbert is still a recon Marine, and returned from a deployment in Iraq in late 2007 after also doing a stint with the British Royal Marines, and that Fick has left the Marine Corps and is working on a double degree at Harvard.
It wasn't that becoming a civilian had dramatically changed Fick. He had gained back a bit of the weight lost on their long march through the desert. But that was the only real change. Colbert thought maybe it was the shock of seeing the younger man in a non hostile environment, wearing dockers and a polo shirt. Fick's hair was a bit longer than it had been, his skin smoother and paler. But it was still Fick, still his lieutenant. Fick smiled though, that same gorgeous smile that could brighten the darkest night.
"I heard you were back," Fick said, opening his door fully, silently inviting Colbert in. "Beer?" Fick asked, and he nodded, still not quite sure why he had come, not certain of anything except that he had felt an overwhelming urge to go up to Boston and see his former commanding officer.
"So how were the Brits?" Fick asked, leaning against the counter and taking a pull from his own bottle. Colbert shrugged a single shoulder.
"Bad teeth," he said flatly, and for a moment, Fick didn't react, but then the former officer snorted softly and grinned, shaking his head. Brad's stomach clenched, and he knew in a hurry why he had come here first. That smile, that soft little laugh. That was what he had been fighting for in Iraq. It was one of the oldest cliches in the books. That a soldier didn't fight for a country or a cause, but for the men standing on either side of him in the trenches. It struck Brad that most things became cliches because they were true. Because he wasn't a patriot or a hero. He was a man with a specific set of skills, trained into him over a number of years. He was a man willing to kill for those he fought alongside, even the ones that tested his patience beyond belief.
They traded stories for a little while, getting each other up to date on the news of those they had served with. Even here, in the tranquility of Cambridge Mass, their world still revolved around the men they knew, the men they had served with. Everything their relationship was based on was over there and neither was quite certain what to do once those tidbits of trivia dried up. For a while they stood in silence, leaning against the counters in Fick's little kitchen, and it was comfortable, familiar but not. But then Brad looked up, and Fick was looking at him.
It was a different sort of look than the usual. Usually Fick looked at him with quiet confidence, occasionally with questions but also with the trust that he would know the answers. This time though, Fick looked at him like he was a puzzle, something to be figured out. He tried to return the look evenly, but he felt his face heating. He flicked his tongue out, suddenly nervous, and Fick's eyes dropped from his, drawn by the movement of his mouth, and Brad felt his breath hitch awkwardly, sudden arousal washing down over him.
"Brad," Fick said, and his voice was soft and husky, and Brad knew that tone.
"Yeah," he breathed in simple affirmation, and then he was crossing to Fick, the world slowing around him as he curled his hand around the smaller man's hip and leaned in to brush their lips together. The first tentative brush eased into a slow, heady kiss. "Nate," Brad breathed, then moaned softly as the younger man's tongue swiped across his lips. They kissed deeply, tongues twining together slickly. Brad eased his hand around Nate, splaying it against the flat of the younger man's back, pressing him closer.
"Been wanting to do that since Mathilda," Nate murmured softly, breath warm and moist against Brad's neck, and he let out a low groan of want. "Jerked off thinking of your hands so many times Brad," he continued, leaning in to suck bruises onto the sergeant's neck, making him moan in need and pull Nate even closer.
"I was yours for the taking," Brad said gruffly, grinding their hips together, then dipped his head for another heated kiss. It was the truth, but damned if he had known it at the time.
Nate hadn't lost any strength since becoming a civilian, and Brad was perfectly willing to be man handled a little. Nate's strength was part of what made him so attractive. So when Nate pushed off the counter a bit, keeping hold of Brad but walking them across the kitchen so Brad was the one pinned to the counter, Brad didn't mind at all. He put up token resistance, but gave way when Nate strained against him. Rather to his surprise though, once Nate had him pinned against the counter, the smaller man dropped to his knees, deftly unfastening Brad's fatigues.
Brad let out a rather embarrassing whimper of need when Nate nuzzled against his arousal. His dick was straining against his standard issue jockeys, a wet spot darkening the front. Nate blew across the wet spot though, then leaned in closer, mouthing Brad's cock through the thin cotton. The sergeant groaned deeply at that, hips bucking forward, seeking warmth and suction. "Please," he whispered when Nate continued to tease, but the nuzzles and slow licks continued, driving him insane with want.
"Nate, please," he pleaded, reaching down to rub his thumb along the smaller man's collar bone, and Nate settled back on his heels, looked up at him expectantly for a long moment. It was an almost familiar look, that look that told him the younger man was testing him. Brad gasped for breath. "Please Sir," he murmured hoarsely. "This Marine wants to fuck the captain's mouth". The tiniest twitch of Nate's lips told him he had passed the test, and then Nate was nuzzling back against his crotch, but this time reaching up to pull down his shorts. Nate's mouth was unbearably hot, and Brad could hardly stand to watch. But he did. He had always been a little bit amazed at how ridiculously pretty Nate was, and having those full pink lips wrapped around his cock was better then he ever would have been able to imagine.
"Sir," he gasped harshly, hand clenching on Nate's shoulder as the younger man deep throated him, and then he couldn't manage even that single syllable, because Nate was humming around the shaft of his cock, bobbing up and down so the head rubbed against the back of his throat, and Brad couldn't take any more. He came with a hoarse wordless shout, one hand clenched on the counter behind him, the other clasping the base of Nate's skull as he shoved his hips forward one last time.
Collapsing back against the counter, Brad just stared at Nate for a moment. He was weak in the knees, his mind on a temporary holiday. Nate stood gracefully, throat working silently, and Brad accepted a hard sloppy kiss. Nate tasted like beer and gizz, and Brad was certain he had never tasted anything better in his life. He pulled the smaller man's hips flush against his, and Nate ground against him slowly.
"Gonna fuck you," Nate promised softly, and Brad shivered slightly. Nate had never been much for swearing, liked using his big SAT words and philosophical metaphors. When he swore, he meant the word in it's full technicolor definition, and Brad's stomach clenched in anticipation. Nate led him to the bedroom, and it wasn't fancy, nothing about the apartment was. But it was a bed, nicer than any Brad had slept on in some time, and he wasn't overly concerned about furniture. His mind was firmly focused on the man walking two steps in front of him.
Nate pulled off his shirt as he entered the bedroom, and then Brad was pressed against his back, kissing the side of his neck and deftly opening his pants. He groaned softly, Brad's big capable hands rubbing him lightly through his shorts before they were shoved down. He turned, pulled Brad down for a slow, steamy kiss, rucking up the older man's tee so they could press together, skin against skin. When they parted, Brad pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, and then Nate was on him again, nibbling along his collar bone, sucking at his nipples and generally trying to drive him insane.
"Sir," he gasped when Nate bit his nipple, hips rocking forward, and Nate growled softly, grinding their hips together briefly. The former officer stepped back after a moment though, fumbling with Brad's belt, and Brad bit his lip and brushed aside the smaller man's hands. His own hands trembled slightly, but then he was naked, and they were pressing together again, hips sliding together, hands scrambling for purchase over sweat dampened skin. Brad glanced back quickly, then walked backwards until he felt the side of the bed against the backs of his knees. He sat, pulling Nate down onto his lap.
"Brad," Nate gasped softly, grinding against the larger man, then leaned in for another wet kiss. Pulling Nate even closer, Brad groaned as the younger man's dick smeared fluid across his abdomen. "Lay down," Nate ordered breathlessly, pressing a hand flat against Brad's chest. The older man nodded as Nate knelt up, freeing his legs. He shifted up onto the bed, splaying his legs without being asked. Nate grinned, eyes dark with lust, then crawled up to kneel between Brad's spread thighs. He leaned in and kissed the older man's quivering stomach, then fumbled a bit in the bedside table, producing lube and a rubber.
"I'm clean," Brad gasped as Nate eased a finger into him. "If you are too," and the rest was cut off in a low moan as Nate nodded and slid another digit past the ring of muscle at his entrance. By the time Nate could easily work three fingers into Brad, he was hard again, moaning with every shallow thrust. Nate slicked himself quickly, lined up, and then looked up at Brad, waiting.
"What do you want Brad?" He asked softly, and Brad just stared at him for a few moments, panting. Then he closed his eyes and groaned softly.
"Sir," he said, licking his lips. "Sir, this Marine wants his captain to fuck him. This Marine wants to get fucked." Nate grinned devilishly, then steadied Brad's hips and slammed into him. The force of it caught Brad by surprise, and he cried out sharply, hips bucking. But Nate forced him to be still, held his hips in place and slid all the way in. "Sir," he gasped breathlessly, and Nate's grin got downright smug.
"Mmmm hmmm?" Nate asked, rolling his hips shallowly, and Brad groaned, arcing his back to try and force Nate to move.
"Sir," he gasped again. "Fucking - please Sir. This Marine - fuck. Fuck me damn it." Nate chuckled softly, but lifted Brads hips and eased out just enough before slamming back in, making Brad arch up and mewl with pleasure. Nate kept grinning, shifting Brad's legs so they hooked over his shoulders and then pounding into the older man. Brad met every thrust, keeping up an inaudible litany of curses and begging under his breath.
"So close," Brad gasped after a while, and Nate nodded silently, reaching for Brad's dick, pumping it in time with his brutal thrusts, and then Brad was coming, moaning "Sir, Nate, oh fuck, oh Nate," and arching up until only the crown of his head was on the bed at all. Nate groaned softly, pounding into Brad's clenching body a few more times, then going still inside him, buried to the hilt.
"So good," he whispered softly, and Brad whimpered as Nate's hot spunk filled him. When Nate eased free, Brad shifted uncomfortably, long legs slightly stiff, ass loose and leaking cum. "So good," Nate murmured again, leaning in to kiss him, and Brad took a deep shuddering breath, then kissed back, still able to taste his come in the younger man's mouth.
"Thank you Sir," he said with a breathless smile when they parted, and that smug grin eased back onto Nate's handsome face.
Pairing: Lt. Nate Fick x Sgt. Brad Colbert
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbeta-ed. Slightly spoilery. PWP.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not factual.
Summary: Set after the HBO series and the book. Based on two facts in the Afterward of the 2008 reprint of the book, that Colbert is still a recon Marine, and returned from a deployment in Iraq in late 2007 after also doing a stint with the British Royal Marines, and that Fick has left the Marine Corps and is working on a double degree at Harvard.
After being promoted to the rank of captain, Fick left the Marine Corps in August to pursue graduate degrees in business and foreign relations at Harvard. For several months he debated whether he had been a good officer, or whether his concern for his men colored his judgment. He concluded, "My feelings made me a more conflicted officer. There was no celebratory cigar smoking on the battlefield for me. But we achieved every mission objective. I did my job." (Wright 351)
It wasn't that becoming a civilian had dramatically changed Fick. He had gained back a bit of the weight lost on their long march through the desert. But that was the only real change. Colbert thought maybe it was the shock of seeing the younger man in a non hostile environment, wearing dockers and a polo shirt. Fick's hair was a bit longer than it had been, his skin smoother and paler. But it was still Fick, still his lieutenant. Fick smiled though, that same gorgeous smile that could brighten the darkest night.
"I heard you were back," Fick said, opening his door fully, silently inviting Colbert in. "Beer?" Fick asked, and he nodded, still not quite sure why he had come, not certain of anything except that he had felt an overwhelming urge to go up to Boston and see his former commanding officer.
"So how were the Brits?" Fick asked, leaning against the counter and taking a pull from his own bottle. Colbert shrugged a single shoulder.
"Bad teeth," he said flatly, and for a moment, Fick didn't react, but then the former officer snorted softly and grinned, shaking his head. Brad's stomach clenched, and he knew in a hurry why he had come here first. That smile, that soft little laugh. That was what he had been fighting for in Iraq. It was one of the oldest cliches in the books. That a soldier didn't fight for a country or a cause, but for the men standing on either side of him in the trenches. It struck Brad that most things became cliches because they were true. Because he wasn't a patriot or a hero. He was a man with a specific set of skills, trained into him over a number of years. He was a man willing to kill for those he fought alongside, even the ones that tested his patience beyond belief.
They traded stories for a little while, getting each other up to date on the news of those they had served with. Even here, in the tranquility of Cambridge Mass, their world still revolved around the men they knew, the men they had served with. Everything their relationship was based on was over there and neither was quite certain what to do once those tidbits of trivia dried up. For a while they stood in silence, leaning against the counters in Fick's little kitchen, and it was comfortable, familiar but not. But then Brad looked up, and Fick was looking at him.
It was a different sort of look than the usual. Usually Fick looked at him with quiet confidence, occasionally with questions but also with the trust that he would know the answers. This time though, Fick looked at him like he was a puzzle, something to be figured out. He tried to return the look evenly, but he felt his face heating. He flicked his tongue out, suddenly nervous, and Fick's eyes dropped from his, drawn by the movement of his mouth, and Brad felt his breath hitch awkwardly, sudden arousal washing down over him.
"Brad," Fick said, and his voice was soft and husky, and Brad knew that tone.
"Yeah," he breathed in simple affirmation, and then he was crossing to Fick, the world slowing around him as he curled his hand around the smaller man's hip and leaned in to brush their lips together. The first tentative brush eased into a slow, heady kiss. "Nate," Brad breathed, then moaned softly as the younger man's tongue swiped across his lips. They kissed deeply, tongues twining together slickly. Brad eased his hand around Nate, splaying it against the flat of the younger man's back, pressing him closer.
"Been wanting to do that since Mathilda," Nate murmured softly, breath warm and moist against Brad's neck, and he let out a low groan of want. "Jerked off thinking of your hands so many times Brad," he continued, leaning in to suck bruises onto the sergeant's neck, making him moan in need and pull Nate even closer.
"I was yours for the taking," Brad said gruffly, grinding their hips together, then dipped his head for another heated kiss. It was the truth, but damned if he had known it at the time.
Nate hadn't lost any strength since becoming a civilian, and Brad was perfectly willing to be man handled a little. Nate's strength was part of what made him so attractive. So when Nate pushed off the counter a bit, keeping hold of Brad but walking them across the kitchen so Brad was the one pinned to the counter, Brad didn't mind at all. He put up token resistance, but gave way when Nate strained against him. Rather to his surprise though, once Nate had him pinned against the counter, the smaller man dropped to his knees, deftly unfastening Brad's fatigues.
Brad let out a rather embarrassing whimper of need when Nate nuzzled against his arousal. His dick was straining against his standard issue jockeys, a wet spot darkening the front. Nate blew across the wet spot though, then leaned in closer, mouthing Brad's cock through the thin cotton. The sergeant groaned deeply at that, hips bucking forward, seeking warmth and suction. "Please," he whispered when Nate continued to tease, but the nuzzles and slow licks continued, driving him insane with want.
"Nate, please," he pleaded, reaching down to rub his thumb along the smaller man's collar bone, and Nate settled back on his heels, looked up at him expectantly for a long moment. It was an almost familiar look, that look that told him the younger man was testing him. Brad gasped for breath. "Please Sir," he murmured hoarsely. "This Marine wants to fuck the captain's mouth". The tiniest twitch of Nate's lips told him he had passed the test, and then Nate was nuzzling back against his crotch, but this time reaching up to pull down his shorts. Nate's mouth was unbearably hot, and Brad could hardly stand to watch. But he did. He had always been a little bit amazed at how ridiculously pretty Nate was, and having those full pink lips wrapped around his cock was better then he ever would have been able to imagine.
"Sir," he gasped harshly, hand clenching on Nate's shoulder as the younger man deep throated him, and then he couldn't manage even that single syllable, because Nate was humming around the shaft of his cock, bobbing up and down so the head rubbed against the back of his throat, and Brad couldn't take any more. He came with a hoarse wordless shout, one hand clenched on the counter behind him, the other clasping the base of Nate's skull as he shoved his hips forward one last time.
Collapsing back against the counter, Brad just stared at Nate for a moment. He was weak in the knees, his mind on a temporary holiday. Nate stood gracefully, throat working silently, and Brad accepted a hard sloppy kiss. Nate tasted like beer and gizz, and Brad was certain he had never tasted anything better in his life. He pulled the smaller man's hips flush against his, and Nate ground against him slowly.
"Gonna fuck you," Nate promised softly, and Brad shivered slightly. Nate had never been much for swearing, liked using his big SAT words and philosophical metaphors. When he swore, he meant the word in it's full technicolor definition, and Brad's stomach clenched in anticipation. Nate led him to the bedroom, and it wasn't fancy, nothing about the apartment was. But it was a bed, nicer than any Brad had slept on in some time, and he wasn't overly concerned about furniture. His mind was firmly focused on the man walking two steps in front of him.
Nate pulled off his shirt as he entered the bedroom, and then Brad was pressed against his back, kissing the side of his neck and deftly opening his pants. He groaned softly, Brad's big capable hands rubbing him lightly through his shorts before they were shoved down. He turned, pulled Brad down for a slow, steamy kiss, rucking up the older man's tee so they could press together, skin against skin. When they parted, Brad pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, and then Nate was on him again, nibbling along his collar bone, sucking at his nipples and generally trying to drive him insane.
"Sir," he gasped when Nate bit his nipple, hips rocking forward, and Nate growled softly, grinding their hips together briefly. The former officer stepped back after a moment though, fumbling with Brad's belt, and Brad bit his lip and brushed aside the smaller man's hands. His own hands trembled slightly, but then he was naked, and they were pressing together again, hips sliding together, hands scrambling for purchase over sweat dampened skin. Brad glanced back quickly, then walked backwards until he felt the side of the bed against the backs of his knees. He sat, pulling Nate down onto his lap.
"Brad," Nate gasped softly, grinding against the larger man, then leaned in for another wet kiss. Pulling Nate even closer, Brad groaned as the younger man's dick smeared fluid across his abdomen. "Lay down," Nate ordered breathlessly, pressing a hand flat against Brad's chest. The older man nodded as Nate knelt up, freeing his legs. He shifted up onto the bed, splaying his legs without being asked. Nate grinned, eyes dark with lust, then crawled up to kneel between Brad's spread thighs. He leaned in and kissed the older man's quivering stomach, then fumbled a bit in the bedside table, producing lube and a rubber.
"I'm clean," Brad gasped as Nate eased a finger into him. "If you are too," and the rest was cut off in a low moan as Nate nodded and slid another digit past the ring of muscle at his entrance. By the time Nate could easily work three fingers into Brad, he was hard again, moaning with every shallow thrust. Nate slicked himself quickly, lined up, and then looked up at Brad, waiting.
"What do you want Brad?" He asked softly, and Brad just stared at him for a few moments, panting. Then he closed his eyes and groaned softly.
"Sir," he said, licking his lips. "Sir, this Marine wants his captain to fuck him. This Marine wants to get fucked." Nate grinned devilishly, then steadied Brad's hips and slammed into him. The force of it caught Brad by surprise, and he cried out sharply, hips bucking. But Nate forced him to be still, held his hips in place and slid all the way in. "Sir," he gasped breathlessly, and Nate's grin got downright smug.
"Mmmm hmmm?" Nate asked, rolling his hips shallowly, and Brad groaned, arcing his back to try and force Nate to move.
"Sir," he gasped again. "Fucking - please Sir. This Marine - fuck. Fuck me damn it." Nate chuckled softly, but lifted Brads hips and eased out just enough before slamming back in, making Brad arch up and mewl with pleasure. Nate kept grinning, shifting Brad's legs so they hooked over his shoulders and then pounding into the older man. Brad met every thrust, keeping up an inaudible litany of curses and begging under his breath.
"So close," Brad gasped after a while, and Nate nodded silently, reaching for Brad's dick, pumping it in time with his brutal thrusts, and then Brad was coming, moaning "Sir, Nate, oh fuck, oh Nate," and arching up until only the crown of his head was on the bed at all. Nate groaned softly, pounding into Brad's clenching body a few more times, then going still inside him, buried to the hilt.
"So good," he whispered softly, and Brad whimpered as Nate's hot spunk filled him. When Nate eased free, Brad shifted uncomfortably, long legs slightly stiff, ass loose and leaking cum. "So good," Nate murmured again, leaning in to kiss him, and Brad took a deep shuddering breath, then kissed back, still able to taste his come in the younger man's mouth.
"Thank you Sir," he said with a breathless smile when they parted, and that smug grin eased back onto Nate's handsome face.
