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Title: Dirt Into Romance

Pairing: Brad/Nate

Rating: NC17 of course hhhehehe

“Nothing says hepatitis like having sex in the woods,” Nate huffs from where he is on his back on a bed of crunchy leaves and not very soft sticks and rocks. Above him, Brad chuckles darkly from where he is undoing the button on his jeans. Nate can feel dampness seeping into his back and he can hear the party in the backyard (the party they were just at) still going strong. Nate considers how poor Poke’s taste in music is.

Brad leans over him and kisses him on the mouth, pulls back and noses his way along Nate’s jaw. Nate’s hair is long enough now that Brad can actually run his hands through it, twist his fingers in it and pull on it a little. Which he does. He says that college life makes him soft. England keeps Brad in line. Nate smiles before he curls a hand around Brad’s hip, tugs him closer to his own to feel the pressure.

Brad’s pants are already undone, the jagged teeth of his zipper scratching along Nate’s stomach a little when he shifts, pulls back to push Nate’s shirt up more and undo his pants. Brad is all business and Nate touches his wrist when Brad yanks his pants down enough to get his cock out. The touch seems to shoot through Brad like an electric current. Before Nate knows it Brad’s on his mouth again, kissing him and trailing his fingers over Nate’s dick, gentle and teasing. Nate hisses through his teeth when Brad’s fingertips move over the head coming away with sticky precome.

Nate is almost surprised when Brad speaks to him, barely audible in the damp woods around them. Nate can feel dirt where his shirt is riding up his back.

“I used to think about you, during the combat jacks,” Brad says and his fist wraps around Nate’s cock in a loose fist, pumps leisurely as he kisses Nate’s jaw and chin. Nate tilts his head back with a small sound from the back of his throat, exposing more flesh that Brad nips at greedily. Brad’s fist moves quicker on Nate’s cock, his free hand holding his hip tight enough to bruise. Nate bucks up into the tight heat of Brad’s hand. He wants Brad to keep talking, wants to hear about his combat jacks in Iraq.

“Keep talking,” he finally pants out and Brad smiles in the dark. Nate likes the way the stars are framing his head, even if they’re going all auto-kinetic on him. Distant light reflects off his white teeth.

“I used to get off to the sweat on your throat and the dirt under your nails and watching you wring fucking sand out of your Kevlar,” Brad says and he doesn’t slow his hand on Nate, just keep letting his LT fuck his fist as he speaks against his pulse point. Brad presses his lips to his neck, licks the sweat and dirt away before he speaks again, whispers against Nate’s ear.

“Oh, god,” the words leave Nate’s mouth in a broken sound and he’s coming hot and fast over Brad’s hand and all over his own stomach. Nate’s head falls back against the dirt and he hears leaves crunch under his head as his eyes fall closed. Brad’s hand is making him shiver as it works him through aftershock tremors that can’t seem to stop dancing through his skin. In his head he can smell the hot desert and the shamals that would plague them for hours at a time in the desert. He remembers the dirt caked on Brad’s boots from the garden and the way his blue eyes had looked at him when he had ordered him out. Dirt across his hands and face and under his nails.

“You with me?” Brad’s voice suddenly breaks Nate’s train of thought and he looks up at him, bleary eyed and content.

“Yeah,” he says, voice completely fucked out. Brad touches his face and Nate considers how his fingertips are damp, probably from licking his come off them and he shudders. “I’m here.” There is a hint of a laugh behind the words. He pulls his pants up, feels dirt go down the back and shakes it off. “Lay back, let me suck you off,” Nate says and Brad is more than happy to comply. Nate pulls Brad’s pants down around his thighs and Brad runs a hand through his hair.

“Past regulations,” Brad mumbles and Nate laughs.

“Did you… did you really think about me during your combat jacks?” Nate asks and he’s poised over Brad, ready to pull his cock into his mouth. Yet he knows that he doesn’t hold sway over Brad ‘The Iceman’ Colbert. This position is irrelevant. Brad would have answered him anyway. For the same reasons that he climbed out of that garden.

“I like you dirty,” Brad says and sits up on his elbows, pulls Nate into a kiss.

Nate wants to say something about the bomb or about any of the other massive fuck ups in Iraq. Instead he pulls away and takes Brad’s cock into his mouth causing Brad to make a pleasant little sound and fall back into the dirt and leaves.

They’re beyond that part of things now, he thinks. Their world is no longer dust storms and bombs falling so close you can feel the heat from them. There’s no one to write their story down and tell it to other people to better show what a massive cluster fuck everything is. Because everything is a massive cluster fuck. Even love and making love in the dirt behind your friend’s house party.