stop. look. listen.

Don't look away

The first time Brad notices it's just a moment, nothing important, just the way Nate turns his head, staring at something. Brad catches their reflection in the window glass, Nate's ass up in the air, thrusting back to meet Brad's cock.

It's a nice view, Nate bent over the back of the couch, pants lowered and caught around his thighs, his hands clawing at the cushions as he tells Brad to fucking get on with it.

"You're such a pushy bitch," Brad tells him, his words just that little bit strained after Nate chooses just this moment to push back, hard.

"Complain some more," he suggests and Brad can't remember what he was complaining about to begin with.

He starts moving faster instead, grasping Nate's hips hard enough to leave marks, and the movement in the reflection catches his eye. Nate's staring too, eyes wide and his whole face flushed, eyes fixed on the way Brad keeps pounding his ass. "Fuck," he mutters, more of a groan than a word, and Brad files this for later.

*

Nate's on his hands and knees.

Brad would like to dwell on this image, catalogue every little detail and keep it with him forever, except Nate's craning his head and looking at him over his shoulder. "Do you need a written invitation, Sergeant?"

Brad pushes one finger in, which just makes Nate hmm in consideration, move his ass like he's trying it out. "Yeah, not bad. How about something I could actually feel?" he ofers pleasantly and Brad rolls his eyes and slaps Nate's ass.

"How about this?"

"Spanking? That's new," he says wonderingly. "Maybe later. You know, after all those steamy e-mails about wanting to fucking pound my ass, I'm a little disappointed."

"One e-mail, Nate. In which I told you I'm coming home and gave you the flight details."

"As I said, steamy," Nate supplies cheerfully. "I translated your intent to my best ability and came up with your great desire to reacquiant yourself with my dick."

"And your ass, don't forget that."

"How could I?" he groans when Brad pushes in again, works Nate's ass open with his fingers. Nate might be cavalier about this, but it's been a while for them both, he wants to take it slow, take Nate apart with his fingers before even reaching for his cock.

"Yes, fuck, there," Nate breathes out, fists the sheets when Brad crooks his finger inside him. he continues the litany with a rather creative mix of obscenities and promises and threats, punctuated with Brad's name and an occasional 'Jesus' which Brad doesn't mind only because he's definitely ahead in the statistic.

Nate's hole looks raw and red, clenching around Brad's fingers again and again. When Brad pushes in, finally, his cock rock hard for too long already, Nate falls strangely quiet, his jaw slack and his eyes open wide.

There's a mirror on the closet's doors, and as they are, half-open, the angle is just right for Nate to watch, see himself full of Brad's dick, his ass moving like he's begging for more.

"You'd make a fucking fortune in the porn business," Brad tells him. It's an old joke, familiar like second skin, and an unimaginative one to boot, anyone who had seen Nate's mouth could, and frequently had, come up with it. What he means to say is 'beautiful' but doesn't.

Nate's lips are slick and red, his face is flushed. He looks drunk, reckless, his eyes so dark they seem black. He's watching Brad's cock disappear in his ass and groans. "Harder."


*

This time, Brad planned it. Went and bought the fucking mirror, the largest they had. He's not quite sure what he's going to do with it afterwards, probably store it in the garage and only use it for this, and hope, for the rest of the time, than no one asks.

Totally worth it. Everything that has to do with Nate is, but this is one of Brad's better ideas, apparently, judging by the way Nate arches into his touch, rock hard within seconds, going from work-tired to turned on beyond belief so hard Brad gets whiplash.

"Yeah," Brad says, pleased with himself. "Thought you might like it."

It's the understatement of the year. When Nate kisses him it's rough and hard and careless, tongue and teeth. "Great strategic planning, Sergeant."

It shouldn't be a turn-on, considering, but Brad had stopped caring a long time ago. Now he just uses it to his advantage. "I do try. Now, I need to familiarise myself with the AO," he offers, his palm on Nate's neck, feeling the pulse speed up under his touch. "Strip," he all but orders.

Nate smirks and then nods, pulls back to take off his tie. It's not a show with him, not quite, he's efficient and quick, but that turns Brad even more. He's done strip clubs and titty bars and this is different, this is Nate, and he's all about efficient. Though sometimes he does like it slow.

Nate's hands still when he's about to pull down his pants, which isn't quite alright with Brad, but he can be patient. Nate frowns like a thought had just occured to him, looks between the mirror and Brad. "You left this morning on your bike. How the fuck did you get that here?"

"Very nice delivery fellows. Didn't make any lewd comments at all," Brad offered cheerfully and Nate laughs, shaking his head, his thumbs hooked into his waistband. "Go on, I didn't say you could stop," Brad tells him, waving his hand encouragingly.

"Waiting for you to keep up," Nate shots back. "Take your pants off, I'm going to need your dick."

"You always need my dick," Brad points out, tugging at the zipper of his jeans and easing them off. "Need it, want it, suck at it like it's the only fucking thing you live for..."

"Don't tell me, you've been writing Dear Penthouse letters for the better part of the day."

"Shut up and get on the bed. I'll give you something to write about."

"Splendid. I've been considering subjects for my next book," Nate offers, crawling into the middle of the bed, on his hands and knees, ensruing he has a great view of the mirror, of them.

"When I said you didn't write much about me in the last one I didn't quite mean an ode to my sexual prowess for the second, but I can deal with that. As long as it's in verse and appropriately worshipping."

"Brad. Talk less, fuck me more, will you?" Nate bitches and Brad doesn't really feel like arguing with that. He coats his fingers in lube generously and presses in. Nate makes a strangled noise and pushes back, but Brad keeps it slow, lays a steadying hand on Nate's back.


"Relax and enjoy the show," he mutters and Nate looks up into the mirror, meets Brad's eyes and holds the gaze for a moment before looking down at Brad's fingers working his ass open, the way he almost pulled them out, just the tips inside Nate, and then slowly worked them back in, Nate's ass stretching to take more.

"Fuck, Brad," Nate groaned, sagging forward, resting on his elbows, his head craned not to miss a second of what was happening. "I need... I need your cock in me, now," he said, his voice strained. "Just fucking..."

"You always do," Brad agreed, moving forward, wrapping himself over Nate, his dick rubbing against his ass. He guides his cock inside Nate, presses in slowly, watching it in the mirror, wanting to see exactly what Nate is looking at. It looks like slow motion, Nate's ass stretching around him, taking him in.

It's a different sensation when he's watching it in the mirror, strange and almost detached but he can feel Nate clench around him, slick and hot. "Fuck, that's what you need, don't you? My cock in you, filling you up."

"Always," Nate mutters and shifts, agonizingly slowly drawing himself up, Brad's cock shifting in his ass but not pulling out. He reaches out instinctively, draping his arms around Nate, pulling him closer. His hand closes around Nate's cock and he strokes gently, in the same rhythm that Nate begins to fuck himself on Brad's dick. "Deeper, Brad, I can take it."

His head is turned so he can watch them in the mirror, granting Brad access to his neck and the line of his throat, taut and inviting. Brad trails his tongue down, bites at the hollow when Nate's neck meets his shoulder. "Gonna watch yourself take it? Watch as you fuck yourself on my cock? Come on, Nate show me."

Nate obediently starts moving faster, reaches back, his arm strained as he holds Brad's head, his fingers grasping at Brad's hair. "I want you to fuck me hard, now," he mutters into Brad's ear and then sags forward, rests on his arms again, ass still high for Brad. "Now would be a good time," he says prissily and Brad grasps his hips, thrusts into Nate, his balls slapping against Nate's ass.

"Like this?"

"Fuck," Nate gasps, closes his eyes briefly but they shoot wide open soon, he's too riveted to the sight in the mirror. "Yes. Harder," he mutters, swallowing the next words, biting his lip as Brad pounds into him. He looks like a fucking wet dream and Brad should know, he's had this one a great many times.

"Come in me," Nate urges him and it doesn't take long for Brad to spill inside him. He tries to pull out but it set Nate off, the sight of Brad filling him up and he clenches around him, milking Brad's cock. "Yes, fuck, Brad," he moans, his arms giving up as he finally lets himself sag into the sheets, his eyes closed.

"I think I'm winning over Jesus," Brad informs him, rolling over, his eyes still closed. There are still fucking fireworks under his eyelids, he doesn't feel like moving ever again. Sadly, it will pass.

"I have no idea what the fuck you're on about," Nate mutters and shifts, the bed sagging underneath him. Brad opens one eye to look at him and Nate's still looking in the mirror, at the streaks of Brad's come on the back of his thighs. Nate's eyes are glassy and clouded, his lips raw and slick.

Brad gives into the temptation and moves closer, despite his whole body's protest, and kisses Nate lightly, his hand running up and down Nate's ass in what he realises is a rather proprietary gesture. He doesn't care all that much, he's pretty much proved he owns it.

"Let's leave the mirror here for a while," Nate says, slurring his words as he's ready to fall asleep. He makes a half-assed attempt at pulling himself up but abandonds in in favour of licking at the corner of Brad's mouth instead.

"Classy," Brad mutters. "We'll get the water bed next," he offers dryly. "It will fully recreate the cheap motel experience."

"You just want to roleplay a hooker and a john," Nate accuses him, but the glint in his eye suggests that he's actually considering it. Brad files that idea for later.