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Ray's about to tuck his dick back in his pants, the sweet hot smell of piss in the air, when his singing is stopped mid-word by a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. His senses kick into overdrive, and he funnels through information quickly. He knows it's not Brad. He's far too familiar with Brad to not recognize the taste of sweat on the flat of the palm. The thought - that someone else is touching the Iceman's RTO without express written permission filed in triplicate and won in battle - sends a surge of heat straight to Ray's cock. "Person, don't you ever shut up?" Ray has to close his eyes as he groans, the tired, frustrated and gravelly voice of Lieutenant Fick sliding into his ear, against his skin. "What's the matter, sir? Not an Avril Lavigne fan?" Nate's hand slips down to Ray's throat, undoing his chinstrap as he goes. "Maybe a gag." "Fuck, LT." Ray shudders as Nate's fingers, rough and dry and callused scrape along his throat and jaw. Ray's own voice is raspy to his ears. "What are you…" "Shutting you up, Ray." His fingers close around Nate's throat, resting there though they don't tighten. His other hand slips over Ray's hip and pushes aside the layers of cloth to Ray's dick. Ray had finished his business just as the lieutenant had clapped his hand over Ray's mouth, so he was still exposed. "Has anyone ever shut you up?" "Lieutenant." Ray arches his back, thrusting into Nate's hand. His head falls back and his Kevlar thumps to the ground. Nate's fingers tighten slightly at his throat and Ray thrusts again. "Fuck." "Shut up, Person. Do you want everyone to hear?" He strokes Ray roughly, his hand tight and just shy of painful as it moves. "Or maybe that's why you can't shut up, why you don't. You want everyone to see, want everyone to know." Nate's voice is sharp with the edge of aggression and Ray keeps thrusting desperately into Nate's fist, biting on the ball of his own hand to keep from making any noise. Nate's fingers are still pressed to Ray's throat, just tight enough that Ray can still swallow and feel the increased pressure when he does. Nate laughs softly, the sound sending a hard shudder through Ray's body, his teeth sinking harder into his flesh. "You want Brad to see, Ray?" Ray's hips jerk and he comes, sucking in desperate breaths as Nate's hand keeps pumping his dick, stroking him until Ray's quivering and coiled up, his head against Nate's shoulder and his body arched like a bow, his breath shaking as he begs Nate to stop. "Please….Sir, please." Nate stills, easing his hand from Ray's dick and wiping it along his MOPP suit. They're all covered in dirt and grime and mud and salt from sweat, so one more layer is hardly noticeable, especially in the fading daylight. "Keep quiet, Corporal." Nate eases away from him, leaving Ray to slump in on himself. "Or get better taste in music." |
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