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http://users.livejournal.com/_steelphoenix_/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2012-02-07 01:20 am
http://users.livejournal.com/_steelphoenix_/) wrote in crack_van2012-02-07 01:20 am
Entry tags:
Take Two Marines (And Call Me In The Morning) by novembersmith (NC-17)
Fandom: GENERATION KILL
Pairing: Nate Fick/Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Length: 6000
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
novembersmith
Author Website:novembersmith, AO3
Why this must be read:
Another thing that the Generation Kill fandom does very well is incredibly good porn.
This is a prime example of it - not only is it scorchingly hot, it's got characterisation and humour and snark and a fantastic Ray voice. From one of the heartwrenching moments in the mini - Ray losing it at Rudy during Bomb in the Garden - we get an amazing build and burst of tension. Between an unexpectedly insecure and typically mouthy Ray, toppy BAMF Nate, and possessive, competent (and secretly a total marshmallow) Brad, this fic is one of the best-characterised and best-voiced I've seen.
Be warned: put down anything you're holding, and stay away from combustible materials. You may explode from the sheer hotness of this fic.
"You've been quiet lately," Nate says thoughtfully. "It's a substantial deviation from your standard operating procedure."
"Just tired, sir," Ray replies, and the lieutenant takes a step forward. Ray startles unintentionally, arm curling around his stomach, the bruises there, and Nate pauses.
"Sergeant Colbert and I were discussing it. A few minutes ago, in fact."
"Discussing what? Me? My sleep habits? What the fuck did I come up in conversation for?" Ray realizes he's getting hostile again and tacks on a "Sir," deferentially as he can.
"We think you need to get some sleep," Nate continues, like Ray hasn't said anything at all. Ray supposes he should be glad of that, doesn't need to piss anyone else off today. "It's been a tense couple weeks. You should make use of the downtime."
Ray can't quite manage to keep from rolling his eyes -- yes, of course, obviously he's been out climbing walls and raiding Iraqi entrenchments while he's been here. Why hadn't he thought of that. It's so obvious. Just go to sleep! Duh, Raymond, you stupid whiskey tango fuck, just find a fucking grave and lay down, close your eyes, count some fucking lamb chops being casevacked out by some poor, doomed farmer. Just sleep. Like it's that easy.
"Or maybe you can't on your own," Nate says, almost talking to himself, and this time when he takes a step closer, Ray retreats. His back hits a wall. "Ray." Ray's eyes go huge, and then Nate's licking his thumb and brushing it over Ray's mouth, the cut stinging beneath his touch. "You're bleeding."
"Uh," Ray stutters, and then Nate thumbs his lower lip so that it falls open, just slightly, and Ray's really fucking confused right now, and a little turned on, and a little worried that the sleep-deprived hallucinations have started.
"Sometimes it's hard to shut down, stop thinking. I understand that. If you need help exhausting yourself into a state in which you are capable of actually resting," Nate murmurs, eyes on Ray's mouth. "The Sergeant and I would be more than happy to assist you. In fact, we might have to insist on it. Brad's very concerned about you, and I admit, Ray, I share that concern.”
Holy ballsack of the great god Jeff Gordon, the lieutenant is hitting on Ray. The lieutenant is inviting Ray to a threesome. With Brad. Ray starts looking around for the cameras, because this shit has got to be a setup of some sort, but Nate just catches his eyes, grins slightly, and man, doesn't that feel like being hit over the head with a rifle butt.
"Brad thinks you don't want assistance from either of us. I think he's wrong. I've seen you watching us."
Mayday, Ray's brain screams, not quite caught up yet. Red a-fucking-lert, you've been spotted ogling your two commanding officers and fantasizing about one or both of them down on their knees in front of you. Retreat. Dig a hole and die in it.
Except. Except Nate looks pleased about it, pleased that Ray'd been thinking nasty, inappropriate shit about him and Brad. There's a slight flush to his cheeks, and he's got a small hint of a smile playing about his lips. He's looking at Ray from beneath his eyelashes, and if Ray didn't know his lieutenant better, he'd say something extremely filthy was going on behind that angelic expression.
Take Two Marines (And Call Me In The Morning)
Pairing: Nate Fick/Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Length: 6000
Author on LJ:
novembersmithAuthor Website:
novembersmith, AO3Why this must be read:
Another thing that the Generation Kill fandom does very well is incredibly good porn.
This is a prime example of it - not only is it scorchingly hot, it's got characterisation and humour and snark and a fantastic Ray voice. From one of the heartwrenching moments in the mini - Ray losing it at Rudy during Bomb in the Garden - we get an amazing build and burst of tension. Between an unexpectedly insecure and typically mouthy Ray, toppy BAMF Nate, and possessive, competent (and secretly a total marshmallow) Brad, this fic is one of the best-characterised and best-voiced I've seen.
Be warned: put down anything you're holding, and stay away from combustible materials. You may explode from the sheer hotness of this fic.
"You've been quiet lately," Nate says thoughtfully. "It's a substantial deviation from your standard operating procedure."
"Just tired, sir," Ray replies, and the lieutenant takes a step forward. Ray startles unintentionally, arm curling around his stomach, the bruises there, and Nate pauses.
"Sergeant Colbert and I were discussing it. A few minutes ago, in fact."
"Discussing what? Me? My sleep habits? What the fuck did I come up in conversation for?" Ray realizes he's getting hostile again and tacks on a "Sir," deferentially as he can.
"We think you need to get some sleep," Nate continues, like Ray hasn't said anything at all. Ray supposes he should be glad of that, doesn't need to piss anyone else off today. "It's been a tense couple weeks. You should make use of the downtime."
Ray can't quite manage to keep from rolling his eyes -- yes, of course, obviously he's been out climbing walls and raiding Iraqi entrenchments while he's been here. Why hadn't he thought of that. It's so obvious. Just go to sleep! Duh, Raymond, you stupid whiskey tango fuck, just find a fucking grave and lay down, close your eyes, count some fucking lamb chops being casevacked out by some poor, doomed farmer. Just sleep. Like it's that easy.
"Or maybe you can't on your own," Nate says, almost talking to himself, and this time when he takes a step closer, Ray retreats. His back hits a wall. "Ray." Ray's eyes go huge, and then Nate's licking his thumb and brushing it over Ray's mouth, the cut stinging beneath his touch. "You're bleeding."
"Uh," Ray stutters, and then Nate thumbs his lower lip so that it falls open, just slightly, and Ray's really fucking confused right now, and a little turned on, and a little worried that the sleep-deprived hallucinations have started.
"Sometimes it's hard to shut down, stop thinking. I understand that. If you need help exhausting yourself into a state in which you are capable of actually resting," Nate murmurs, eyes on Ray's mouth. "The Sergeant and I would be more than happy to assist you. In fact, we might have to insist on it. Brad's very concerned about you, and I admit, Ray, I share that concern.”
Holy ballsack of the great god Jeff Gordon, the lieutenant is hitting on Ray. The lieutenant is inviting Ray to a threesome. With Brad. Ray starts looking around for the cameras, because this shit has got to be a setup of some sort, but Nate just catches his eyes, grins slightly, and man, doesn't that feel like being hit over the head with a rifle butt.
"Brad thinks you don't want assistance from either of us. I think he's wrong. I've seen you watching us."
Mayday, Ray's brain screams, not quite caught up yet. Red a-fucking-lert, you've been spotted ogling your two commanding officers and fantasizing about one or both of them down on their knees in front of you. Retreat. Dig a hole and die in it.
Except. Except Nate looks pleased about it, pleased that Ray'd been thinking nasty, inappropriate shit about him and Brad. There's a slight flush to his cheeks, and he's got a small hint of a smile playing about his lips. He's looking at Ray from beneath his eyelashes, and if Ray didn't know his lieutenant better, he'd say something extremely filthy was going on behind that angelic expression.
Take Two Marines (And Call Me In The Morning)