Chapter Text
Brad isn't pushing for anything too fast or too soon. He's new to this. Deciding he was gonna make a leap with Nate was a big step. One that even though he hates himself for it, still makes him nervous sometimes. But there's where he's at emotionally and then there's where his dick is at. Let's just say, Brad's been thinking about all his options in bed a lot.
After the most hellish day at work Brad thinks he’s ever had, he goes to Nate’s place. Nate isn’t expecting him and he answers the door in a pair of ratty jeans and a heathered FBI t-shirt, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He takes one look at Brad’s face and tugs him through the open door. Brad sets his helmet down on the keystand and then collapses on Nate’s couch. It’s just big enough that his legs don’t hang over the edge. There are papers and files all over the coffee table, and a half-drunk glass of red wine sits on the corner.
“Just trying to get my taxes together,” Nate says softly and presses a cold bottle of Amstel into his hand. He sits down on the sliver of sofa cushion left next to Brad’s hip and doesn’t ask him to talk about it. Brad takes a swallow of beer and sighs in relief. He feels like the knot in his stomach has loosened a little and he runs a hand down Nate’s thigh in silent thank you. Nate nods and pulls his glasses off, squinching his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“So what’d you do on your day off?” Brad asks.
“Slept late, made pancakes, taxes, you know.”
“Mm,” Brad says and sets the beer bottle down on the coffee table. He leans up and kisses Nate, focusing on the sweet curve of Nate’s lower lip rather than all the bad stuff running through his head. Nate tastes like expensive Zinfandel and Brad smiles inwardly at the image of Nate uncorking a good bottle to sit down and do his taxes.
Nate pulls back and runs a thumb down Brad’s jaw. His irises are dark, swallowed by pupil, and Brad feels in his gut that Nate represents everything that’s good in his life. It’s a bit frightening. But Nate puts it out of Brad’s mind with a soft look. He shifts to straddle Brad, knees tight around his hips.
His smile is closed-mouthed, Brad’s hint that he’s up to something, and then he’s bending to brush his lips over the shell of Brad’s ear. He blows softly and says, “Want to come to bed?”
Brad closes his eyes, takes a minute to just enjoy Nate’s touch, his smell, the way his weight feels right on top of Brad’s awakening erection. “Yeah.”
Brad’s spent the night before, rubbed off on Nate on top of his six-hundred thread count sheets, kissed him until his mouth was sore and swollen, jerked Nate off and imagined sliding his dick between Nate’s lips. Something about this feels different. Nate gets up off of him and drains the last of his wine. He shoots Brad a come-hither look over his shoulder and disappears into the bedroom. Brad follows at a more sedate pace, shrugging off his shirt and stepping out of his jeans. He’s careful to fold them over his arm because Nate will freak out if he leaves them in a pile on the floor.
Nate’s pulled the covers down and piled up all the pillows when Brad gets to the bed. He pushes Brad back onto the sheets and nips at his mouth before Brad tugs Nate down on top of him. Nate cards his fingers through Brad’s short hair and then pulls, directing Brad’s mouth where he wants it. Heat coils in Brad’s stomach, spreading outwards so that he feels it everywhere. There are times when he wonders how much Nate has done this and then he realizes he really doesn't like that train of thought at all.
Nate strokes over Brad’s lower lip with his tongue and then slides it over the roof of Brad’s mouth. Brad moans and shifts instinctively so that their dicks are lined up. He feels warm and comfortable and being turned on seems minor compared to just touching Nate.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” he breathes and pushes Nate’s shirt up his spine, fingertips dragging in the groove so that Nate arches, catlike. Nate pulls his clothes off between kisses. He drags Brad’s boxers down his thighs to get to his dick. Brad thinks, with Nate’s head bent over his dick, about asking him to suck it, but then Nate slides up his body to lick over his collarbone and into the hollow of his throat and he forgets all about it.
Nate makes these soft breathy noises when he’s turned on, like he’s savoring it, and he’s making them now as his inflamed red lips close over Brad’s left nipple. Brad’s hips lift and Nate chuckles softly. His eyelashes flutter, brushing over the skin of Brad’s shoulder.
“Do you want to fuck me?” he says into Brad’s skin.
“Always,” Brad replies. It comes out like a moan.
“Now?” Nate presses, rubbing circles over Brad’s shoulder.
“I...haven’t…I mean…do you…are you…uh.” Brad draws in a deep breath. “Yes.”
Nate smiles, flush spreading across his nose and cheeks, and reaches for the top drawer of the nightstand. He drops a condom on Brad’s chest and then starts tossing the contents of the drawer; he finally pulls out an obviously new tube of KY and waggles his eyebrows.
“You’re such a dork,” Brad says easily.
Nate winks and then raises up on his knees. He squirts lube on two fingers and then takes a deep breath before reaching behind. Nate’s face furrows in concentration, teeth sunk deep in his lip. A shadow passes over his face and he says, “I can’t…I’m not sure…”
That answers the question of how much Nate has done this. Never. Brad pushes up onto his elbows and says, “Let me,” which is how he ends up kissing a heavily breathing Nate, two fingers shoved past tight muscle into even tighter heat. Nate sounds like he’s run a race; he grips tight at Brad’s bicep and thrusts back against his hand. When Brad slides the third finger inside, Nate makes a sound that Brad will appreciate forever. There’s a fine sheen of sweat all over his body and Brad reaches up to taste it at his collarbone.
“Okay…okay,” Nate says, voice carefully measured, “I think probably now.”
Brad smiles against the thin skin of Nate’s throat and carefully pulls his fingers free. He finds the forgotten condom and carefully rolls it on while Nate watches, blinking distractedly. It gives him pause for a moment, kneeling there with his hand wrapped around his cock, staring Nate down. A sweet smile spreads across Nate's face and he's pushing Brad back to straddle his lap. He lies back, positioning himself at Nate’s entrance with a hand and Nate slowly thrusts down until his ass is flush against Brad’s pelvis. He’s ruddy and glowing all over, eyes squeezed tightly shut and Brad can do nothing but stare. Nate starts a slow pace, rolling his hips, breath catching in his throat. Brad trembles, trying hard not to come.
He reaches for Nate’s neglected cock only to have Nate push his hand away. “I got you tonight,” he says and presses a kiss to Brad’s forehead and speeds up. Brad can’t quite take it, the sight is almost more than the sensation—his dick disappearing into Nate’s body, Nate’s stomach muscles fluttering from exertion. All Brad can do is be thankful for being so lucky.
Nate’s hard, precome beading at the tip. Brad marvels, watching in undisguised wonder as Nate thrusts through the loose circle of his own fingers and then back down on Brad’s dick. He seems tighter and hotter with every stroke. More force and sensation travels down his spine, pooling there until it’s too much. Brad shudders and comes with a hiccupping gasp, fingers so tight on Nate’s thighs the flesh is white beneath his grip.
Nate slows, raising himself up and down lazily, breathing deep as the last aftershocks pass through Brad. He strokes himself faster, dick red and leaking. Brad swallows, unsure of when watching another man toss one off became so hot. He’s going to think about this now every time he looks at Nate’s hands. Brad finds Nate’s other hand and twines their fingers together, thumb brushing over Nate’s knuckles. Nate comes with a sound of surprise, Brad softening inside him.
“Oh god,” he says and tilts forward, uses his grip on Brad’s hand to catch himself. Brad rotates so that Nate’s lying beside him. He doesn’t say any of the things he wants to, like “You’re amazing,” or “God, I’m falling in love with you,” or “when you’re not there, you’re all I think about.” He doesn’t know how Nate will react to such displays of emotion, so he settles with drawing Nate close, and tucking his chin into the hollow of Nate’s shoulder.
Nate makes a low amused sound and says, “I think we did pretty good at that.”
“Yeah?” Brad replies, eyes closed.
Nate chuckles. “Mm, I think we can do it again.”
Brad snorts. “Oh good,” he says, nuzzling Nate’s throat. “Think you can give me a few moments?”