an ability to improvise

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by templemarker

Notes: For the GK Porn Skirmish challenge “I thought it was bigger.” Could certainly be seen in the same thread as field expediency. To make marcolette feel better on a bad day with dirty dirty sexin’. And because the Skirmish is over in four days. Woe.


Nate frowned. “I thought it would be bigger.”

Brad, from his vantage point beneath his motorcycle, scowled. “It is sufficient for my needs, sir,” he said, wiping away sweat from his face with a greasy hand. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He felt more than saw Nate move around the bike, and he worked the nut he was tightening with a patient hand under Nate’s observation.

“I don’t know, I think it would be kind of uncomfortable to ride. With your legs all tucked up like that? I don’t think it would be an hour before I’d need to take a walk.”

Brad slid out from beneath his bike, swiping his hands on his jeans, and stood to face Nate. “Allow me to show you otherwise.”

Nate’s eyebrow crooked up. “Okay.”

Forty minutes later they were on highway 76, winging through lots of boring scenery, slowly getting further out of town. Nate had, after much arguing, agreed to ride bitch–if only because his license wasn’t qualified for motorcycle operation. Nate’s hands were hooked around Brad’s waist, and two pairs of long-ass legs rested unawkwardly on the bike.

Brad’s Suzuki Boulevard wasn’t the sweetest machine, or the most advanced, but he’d had her for years and she’d never done him wrong. Mostly she lived in his parents’ garage; it had never made a whole lot of sense to pay for storage space when they were willing to keep her for free. When Brad was based in Pendleton she was a constant companion; when he wasn’t she waited patiently for him to return. She was better than a lot of girlfriends he’d had. Maybe not better than the boyfriend, though.

They cruised their way east, driving past suburbs and pre-fabs, gradually getting nearer the hills. Nate never twitched, just held on firmly, and Brad thought Nate had maybe figured out why Brad liked this bike so much. Slowly houses petered out past San Luis Rey Heights, and Brad thought about getting on Encondido, but the miles of federal asphalt didn’t appeal. He kept going until they were in hill desert, nothing to see for miles around, and the sun started dipping to the horizon.

Brad had been here before, when he’d used his bike to get away, when he hadn’t wanted to be seen or heard from for awhile. He pulled off a side road, dusty marker pointing the way, and took them a couple miles down until they reached a look-out point. He cut the bike and thumbed off his helmet, breathing unstuffy air for the first time in over an hour. He stretched, sliding out of his leather jacket, toes wiggling in his boots. When he turned back, Nate’s helmet was resting on the bike, and Nate had gone up near the edge, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

Gear thrown on the bike, Brad walked to stand next to him, watching his finely made profile catch the sun. Brad wanted to run his fingers along his jaw, so he did, the afternoon’s work leaving a slight sheen of oil there like a mark.

Nate smiled, said, “C’mere,” and Brad leaned in to bring their mouths together, fucking his tongue into Nate’s mouth even as Nate tried to gentle the kiss. Brad peeled him out of his jacket, tossed it to the ground, and pressed his thumbs into Nate’s collarbones to hear him bite off a curse.

“Be loud,” Brad said at the skin of Nate’s neck, “no one can hear you,” and was rewarded with a shuddery moan that made Brad teeth where he’d just been kissing. Nate’s fingernails dug into Brad’s sides, making his dick hard. He thrust against Nate to let him feel what those sounds did him.

“Fuck, Brad,” Nate said harshly.

“Yes please,” Brad said lazily, licking and biting his way up to Brad’s ear, laying a sharp bite on his earlobe just to feel Nate jerk and sigh.

“If you packed your bike with lube I’m going to be wondering who else you’ve been fucking,” Nate warned, pushing his hand down the back of Brad’s pants to feel up his ass, one finger teasing downwards.

“Only you,” Brad assured, tipping his head back, “except for the occasional pussy.”

Nate laughed hotly against Brad’s skin where he’d pulled the neckline of his t-shirt out of place. “We all have needs,” he said, biting hard as he tapped a finger against Brad’s hole. Brad’s ass clenched with anticipation; if Nate would just fucking agree to ditch his stupid education and live in California with Brad, when Brad was there, there wouldn’t need to be any pussy involved in this discussion at all.

“If you want me to fuck you, you need to give me the tools to do it,” Nate said. “I’m not a Marine anymore. I don’t have to make do.”

“But I like it when you make do,” Brad said, taking Nate’s mouth again.

“Get me lube, Gunny,” Nate said with that ridiculous smile he thought passed for wicked, and just made him look more like someone who had offered–genuinely–to assist old ladies crossing the street.

“Yessir,” Brad said, laying one more kiss down for memory, then pulling Nate’s hand from his ask and returning to his bike. There, in the emergency kit, were a couple single-use packets of lube and a strip of condoms. He frequently thought things through, and then jerked off about them.

He brought a condom and the lube back to Nate, who laughed a little but took them. They stripped, clothes making a poor bed, but it was better than nothing, and Nate put Brad on hands and knees to open him up.

Two fingers in, and Brad was nothing but bliss. When Nate leaned over to whisper in his ear, Brad dug fingers into the ground to keep from touching his cock. “I want to fuck you over your bike,” Nate said, pushing inexorably in and out. “I want you to be all dirty with work in your garage, so I can come in and lick the sweat off your back. Push you over your bike, stretched out for me. Perfect angle to fuck you, Brad, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Fucking you know I would,” Brad ground out, thrusting into air and back onto Nate’s fingers. He felt Nate’s smile, and then Nate’s teeth, against his shoulder. “I know you would,” Nate echoed, adding a third finger, though after three days of fucking Brad didn’t really need it.

“Fuck me now please,” Brad grunted, and Nate’s fingers stilled while Nate kissed him, attack and surrender all at once. When Nate pulled his fingers out, Brad’s head hung low and his eyes slid shut, until his cock was there and Brad’s eyes flew open.

“God, I love it when you take my cock,” Nate said, like it was something worth praising. When he bottomed out, Brad thought maybe it was, pushing back to meet Nate, feeling his back arch low to the ground.

“Fuck,” Brad said, the only word he had, as Nate worked himself deeper, pushing harder, digging fingers into the flesh of Brad’s back to pull him close. Brad could see the sun fading more, and listened to the rough sound of Nate breathing in time with his fucking.

Two seconds or two minutes later, Nate’s hand wrapped around Brad’s cock, and Brad reared up until his back was flush against Nate’s chest. Nate’s arm held him close, and he fucked shallowly into Brad’s body while bringing him off with his hand. Brad gripped Nate’s forearm and let out a string of curses, reaching out his tongue to taste the dusty skin of Nate’s arm.

His come made splatters on the brown ground, and he watched it wet the ground as Nate finished inside him, a handful of thrusts behind.

Nate pulled out quickly, tied off the condom and shoved it back inside its wrapper. Brad tipped himself over, turning on his side, stretching out an arm to rest his head. A second more and Nate was behind him, tongue finding all the places he’d just marked.

“You gonna let me drive home?” Nate asked, grin in his voice. “It’s going to be hard enough to sit still on that bike.”

“Fuck you,” Brad said succinctly. “You could put the entire Foreign Legion up my ass and I still wouldn’t let you drive.”

Nate laughed, hot breath hitting hot skin, and pushed a finger inside Brad, where he’d just been. “Worth a try.”

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