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Jul. 28th, 2010 08:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notI know that no one (including myself) believed it when I said I wasn't going to write GK fic. But I didn't think that this would be the first thing I would post.
Bedtime Stories
Generation Kill || Ray/Walt/Brad || Adult || 2577 words
Summary: Ray knows the difference between someone not hearing him and someone ignoring him. Walt has been ignoring him for days, and Ray's tired of it. Luckily, Ray has a plan to fix it.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the portrayal of characters in Generation Kill, and is meant to imply nothing about the real people who bear these names.
A/N: Idek. I am not sure where this came from, and I'm nervous about posting it as my first GK fic. GK fandom is kinda intimidating.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000 did a quick beta on this for me (also, she tells the best bedtime stories and she's my favoritest ever) so any mistakes are mine. There's an awful lot of talking in this, but it's Ray, so whatever.
"Walt." Ray's whispering is a normal person's outdoor voice at the best of times, and this is no exception. "Hey, Hasser!"
When there's no answer, Ray sighs. Ray knows the difference between someone not hearing him and someone ignoring him. Walt has been ignoring him for days. Walt's sitting beside the humvee, hands in his lap and staring at nothing. It's a little creepy, and Ray's tired of it. Luckily, Ray has a plan to fix it.
Ray crouches down in front of Walt and grins. "Hey, buddy, I know you're going to tell me to fuck off, but I have a surprise for you and I'm gonna pester the shit out of you until you agree to come with me."
"You pester the shit out of me anyway," Walt mutters, but he gets to his feet anyway. "If I come see your surprise, will you leave me alone all day tomorrow?"
"Sure." Ray shrugs. It's not like anyone will expect him to keep that deal, and Walt probably won't even be worried about it. Ray's surprise is awesome.
He leads Walt away from the humvee, far enough from everyone else that they can have a semblance of privacy. It took Ray for-fucking-ever to set this shit up, and Walt had better appreciate it. There's a grave big enough for both of them to lie in with room to spare, a blanket spread out on the dirt. Ray lays his weapon beside the hole and jumps in first, gesturing for Walt to join him.
"What the fuck, Ray?"
Ray just grins. "Come down here and let me tell you a bedtime story, put you to sleep." There's more to it than that, but the end goal is for Walt to actually get some rest. Since the incident at the roadblock, Ray's pretty sure that hasn't happened.
Walt rolls his eyes but slides down into the grave, lets Ray maneuver them so that they're stretched on alongside one another, closer than they need to be even in the confines of the dirt. They're damn near cuddling, but Ray has an argument about touch therapy lined up in defense of their positions.
Ray tugs at the hem of Walt's tshirt, pulls it free from his pants so that he can slide his hand along the hot bare skin hidden underneath. Walt pushes into the touch for a moment before he freezes.
"You said you were going to tell me a story, not flaunt your disregard for the grooming standard and molest me."
That's not a no.
"Fuck the grooming standard," Ray says, sliding his hand around to the front of Walt's pants. "And I am perfectly capable of molesting you while I tell you a story."
Walt laughs, but the sound is rough and a little broken. "You're kinda fucked up, dude."
Ray doesn't say anything in response to that because... well, it's true. Although he'd probably leave out the "kinda". And Walt isn't putting up any resistance, so he's a little fucked up himself.
"So, once upon a time, there was a farm boy named Walter Hasser, raised all wholesome and shit in the land of moonshine and peanuts and Civil War history." Ray dips his hands under the edge of Walt's briefs, the touch teasing and light. He isn't always good at demonstrating patience, would normally have gone straight for a handful of dick, but this is Walt. Walt deserves extra attention. "Little Walter grew into a man and broke a dozen hearts when he decided his first and truest love was the Marine Corps. Obviously, his looks outweighed his brains, because no one in his right mind chooses being stuck in a fucking desert with retarded command and five guys crammed into a tin can over a soft bed and a soft woman and regular meals. "
"Your bedtime story sucks," Walt says, but he's laughing and he's not pulling away, even goes so far as to shift over to give Ray better access to slide his hand down his pants.
"But it gets better," Ray promises. "Young Walter is lucky enough to be assigned to the most superior team leader in the platoon, a legend by the name of Colbert who would have fit right in as a Knight of the Round Table, and has the even better fortune to meet Colbert's hot young sidekick - that'd be me - and a bunch of other really cool guys. And some assholes, but there's some of those in every crowd."
Walt's breaths are getting slower, like he actually is falling asleep, which is totally not the purpose of this story. Ray shifts so he can push Walt's brief's down, and he brings his hand up to lick his palm before wrapping his fingers around Walt's cock.
Satisfied he has Walt's full attention again, he starts stroking as he continues, "See, the thing is that we look out for each other. It's more than just having each other's backs, because we all do that. Shit, I've got Trombley's back and I wouldn't touch his dick if you paid me. Nah, me and Brad have an understanding, because sometimes there are things you need out here that you just can't ask for."
"I swear to fuck, I think you get off on the sound of your own voice," Walt mumbles, hand covering Ray's own and adjusting his hold into something Walt must like better, because he closes his eyes with an appreciative "mmmm" sound and pushes into Ray's touch. "Like that."
Ray almost points out that he's the one calling the plays here, at least until Brad gets in the game, but they both freeze at the sound of footfalls on gravel. Walt pulls back, wide-eyed and a little freaked, but Ray can see the shadow standing by the edge of the grave.
"It's okay," he says, pulling Walt back close. "It's just Brad."
"Just Brad," Brad says with a derisive sound as he slides down to join them, pressing close against Walt's other side. There's suddenly a lot less wiggle room. "Like Brad is just anything."
Brad sneaks a hand around to join Ray's, stilling his movement. "Hi, Walt. Did Ray just pull you over here and start undressing you, or did he ask you first?"
"Don't ask, don't tell, motherfucker!" Ray is confident that if he was doing something Walt didn't want, Walt would let him know. Besides, he was getting to that. "Walt, we're trying to look out for you too. You're ours, in the fucked up way that seems par for the course here, and we want to give you what you need."
"The point Ray is trying to make," Brad cuts in, "is that we'd like to take care of you, make you forget everything else and just feel good. If you want us."
Ray rolls his eyes, tries to make sure the exasperation is clear in his tone.. "Of course he wants us, Brad! He's a Recon Marine; he's not stupid!"
Brad sighs. "Okay," he amends. "If you'll let us."
Ray can't see Walt's expression, it's too dark, but Walt pulls back enough that he's looking at Ray. Ray doesn't know what he's looking for or if he can see any better than Ray can, but there must be something because Walt nods. "Yeah," he says, soft and rushed, "okay, yes."
Ray doesn't have to see Brad to know he's grinning as he wiggles to get them situated the way he wants them. The darkness makes Ray have to rely on his other senses. He hears the rustle of fabric, feels the brush against his body as Brad works Walt's pants down. Quick and efficient, that's his Brad.
Walt is mostly on top of Ray, but as long as he keeps his thigh pressed up against Ray's dick and Ray has enough room to jack him off, it's all good. For a moment, it’s relatively quiet – the echoes of their breath loud within the confines of the grave, the distant sound of artillery, the occasional burst of laughter from the encampment.
Ray doesn’t like the quiet, especially when he’s not the one being touched.
“Walt, hey, Walt.” He tries to catch Walt’s gaze even though he knows it’s a gesture of futility. “You ever done anything like this? Ever experimented with a guy, stolen moments in a hayloft or maybe after getting drunk and going skinny dipping down at the lake?”
Ray is talking shit to fill the silence, but he still smiles when Walt huffs out a laugh against his shoulder and says, “Fuck you, don’t be mixing my teenage years up with yours.” Walt chokes back a sound that Ray can’t decipher, and Ray can only imagine Brad pushing a finger in Walt’s ass, the slow, solid pressure.
They don’t have a lot of time, can’t take as long as Ray would want. Ray likes it like that, the stretch and burn of just a cursory prep, but he’s not sure how well that’s going to work for Walt. Still, he knows Brad, knows he’s cautious and thorough even under less-than-ideal conditions, knows he’ll do what he needs to do to make it good for Walt. Also, Ray maybe worked some magic to get his hands – Brad’s hands – on some actual lube.
“A girlfriend, maybe,” Ray continues, “slipping a finger back as she’s blowing you, just enough to tease.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ray.” Brad needs a new catchphrase.
“No,” Walt says. “Keep talking.”
It’s really a shame Brad can’t see Ray’s expression of smug satisfaction.
Ray considers Walt’s words to be praise and rewards him for them by twisting his hand on Walt’s cock, feeling the way Walt pushes into his hand and then back against Brad’s fingers.
“I’m not the only one who gets off on the sound of my voice, huh? Or does it just give you something to focus on? It doesn’t matter what I’m saying, does it, so long as you can hear me? Think about this, us, my voice, Brad’s hands. We've got you," Ray's voice is a rough whisper, lips pressed so close to Walt's ear they're practically touching. "Me and Brad, Walt, we got you. It's okay, just let us make you feel good."
Ray can feel it when Walt gives in, relaxes against him. Ray catches Brad's eyes over Walt's shoulder, calm and steady like always, and Brad leans down to kiss the back of Walt's neck because he's romantic like that.
Ray knows what Brad's doing, so he expects it when Brad replaces his fingers with his cock and Walt starts to tense against him.
"Shhh, relax," he murmurs, rubbing his free hand over Walt's back. Something above them shifts, and Ray has just enough light to see Walt’s face. His eyes are tightly closed, tongue peeking out as he concentrates on not making any noise. Ray lets him have that moment. He knows that feeling, the way your body burns and stretches at first, how it overwhelms you. He remembers the first time with Brad and has to close his own eyes for a moment to keep himself in check.
He opens his eyes again, adjusting to the shadows and the dark. He kinda wishes he could see. He knows Brad's look of concentration, could probably recreate that image in his mind if he kept his eyes closed, but even better is the way Brad lets himself slip, let's his guard down just a little bit. Ray doesn't admit, even to himself, that catching sight of Brad's vulnerability, the fact that he might need Ray, need them, just as much as Ray needs him, does something to his heart. Yeah, admitting that would be a little gay.
The rhythm that Brad is setting is slow, but Ray is jerking Walt hard and fast, keeping up a steady stream of nonsense, repetitions of “Walt” and “fuck” and “ours” mixed with commentary on Brad’s technique, on what he’d do if they had more time, on what he imagines Walt looks like. Walt bites down on Ray’s shoulder – he can feel the tip of his teeth and has a fleeting thought of how gross that actually is because he is fucking dirty - to muffle whatever sound he makes when he comes, shuddering against Ray. Brad’s right behind him, going still and then collapsing over them both, breathing heavy. Brad presses another kiss against the back of Walt’s neck, probably the exact same spot. Fucking Brad.
“You okay, Walt?”
Walt nods against Ray’s shirt, turns his head a little to the side but his words are still muffled when he says, “Good, I’m good.” He clears his throat and seems a little uncertain when he adds, “Thank you.”
“Fuck that,” Ray says, before Brad can get any more ideas. “No thank yous, that’s a rule. But if it weren’t a rule, I’d thank you for being so hot.” He pulls his hand out from between himself and Walt and wipes it on Brad’s shirt. It wouldn’t be fair if Brad walked away with less of a mess on him than Ray and Walt had. “And I’ll thank Brad when he gets the fuck off us because he’s heavy.”
Brad laughs, so low Ray might have missed it if he hadn’t been expecting it, and pulls out, pulls away. Walt makes another noise that Ray can’t place, and if that was the type of thing Ray thought about, he’d wonder what other noises they could get Walt to make, would file that away for fantasy fodder for his next combat jack. Ray doesn’t think about things like that, though.
Walt starts to push himself off of Ray too, now that he has room to move, and Ray twists his shirt in his hands. “Where are you going?”
Walt stops, still mostly kneeling over Ray. “Getting off you?”
“Nah, you’re like my own personal Marine-shaped blanket.” Ray reaches for the baby wipes Brad is handing them and uses them to clean the majority of the mess off of them, then tucks Walt back into his pants, patting his ass when he’s done. “Lay back down here, asshole.”
“Ray, you’re on watch after Trombley,” Brad says from above them, already slipping back into Team Leader mode.
Ray waves at him in acknowledgement. He knows this. He’s just going to make sure Walt’s asleep before he gets up. He waits until Walt settles back down against him, runs his hand over his head, trails his fingers over the back of his neck.
“Run out of words?” Walt asks.
“Never,” Ray promises. “Just thought you were done listening.”
“Never,” Walt counters. He pushes his leg against Ray’s still hard cock. “You didn’t get off.”
“I’m good, I’ll take care of it. Go to sleep, Walt.”
Walt hesitates, like he’s going to say something else, and Ray’s got another rule lined up to tell him – it’d be a lie, but half the shit Ray says is anyway – but sighs and settles down quietly.
Ray waits until his breathing evens out and he starts to snore just a little bit. He knows he should get up, go sneak off for a quick jack before he goes to relieve Trombley from watch, but decides he can stay for a couple more minutes, make sure Walt is asleep. Out here, they may not always be able to ask for what they need, but Ray can make damn sure he gives it.
Bedtime Stories
Generation Kill || Ray/Walt/Brad || Adult || 2577 words
Summary: Ray knows the difference between someone not hearing him and someone ignoring him. Walt has been ignoring him for days, and Ray's tired of it. Luckily, Ray has a plan to fix it.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the portrayal of characters in Generation Kill, and is meant to imply nothing about the real people who bear these names.
A/N: Idek. I am not sure where this came from, and I'm nervous about posting it as my first GK fic. GK fandom is kinda intimidating.
irisgirl12000 did a quick beta on this for me (also, she tells the best bedtime stories and she's my favoritest ever) so any mistakes are mine. There's an awful lot of talking in this, but it's Ray, so whatever. "Walt." Ray's whispering is a normal person's outdoor voice at the best of times, and this is no exception. "Hey, Hasser!"
When there's no answer, Ray sighs. Ray knows the difference between someone not hearing him and someone ignoring him. Walt has been ignoring him for days. Walt's sitting beside the humvee, hands in his lap and staring at nothing. It's a little creepy, and Ray's tired of it. Luckily, Ray has a plan to fix it.
Ray crouches down in front of Walt and grins. "Hey, buddy, I know you're going to tell me to fuck off, but I have a surprise for you and I'm gonna pester the shit out of you until you agree to come with me."
"You pester the shit out of me anyway," Walt mutters, but he gets to his feet anyway. "If I come see your surprise, will you leave me alone all day tomorrow?"
"Sure." Ray shrugs. It's not like anyone will expect him to keep that deal, and Walt probably won't even be worried about it. Ray's surprise is awesome.
He leads Walt away from the humvee, far enough from everyone else that they can have a semblance of privacy. It took Ray for-fucking-ever to set this shit up, and Walt had better appreciate it. There's a grave big enough for both of them to lie in with room to spare, a blanket spread out on the dirt. Ray lays his weapon beside the hole and jumps in first, gesturing for Walt to join him.
"What the fuck, Ray?"
Ray just grins. "Come down here and let me tell you a bedtime story, put you to sleep." There's more to it than that, but the end goal is for Walt to actually get some rest. Since the incident at the roadblock, Ray's pretty sure that hasn't happened.
Walt rolls his eyes but slides down into the grave, lets Ray maneuver them so that they're stretched on alongside one another, closer than they need to be even in the confines of the dirt. They're damn near cuddling, but Ray has an argument about touch therapy lined up in defense of their positions.
Ray tugs at the hem of Walt's tshirt, pulls it free from his pants so that he can slide his hand along the hot bare skin hidden underneath. Walt pushes into the touch for a moment before he freezes.
"You said you were going to tell me a story, not flaunt your disregard for the grooming standard and molest me."
That's not a no.
"Fuck the grooming standard," Ray says, sliding his hand around to the front of Walt's pants. "And I am perfectly capable of molesting you while I tell you a story."
Walt laughs, but the sound is rough and a little broken. "You're kinda fucked up, dude."
Ray doesn't say anything in response to that because... well, it's true. Although he'd probably leave out the "kinda". And Walt isn't putting up any resistance, so he's a little fucked up himself.
"So, once upon a time, there was a farm boy named Walter Hasser, raised all wholesome and shit in the land of moonshine and peanuts and Civil War history." Ray dips his hands under the edge of Walt's briefs, the touch teasing and light. He isn't always good at demonstrating patience, would normally have gone straight for a handful of dick, but this is Walt. Walt deserves extra attention. "Little Walter grew into a man and broke a dozen hearts when he decided his first and truest love was the Marine Corps. Obviously, his looks outweighed his brains, because no one in his right mind chooses being stuck in a fucking desert with retarded command and five guys crammed into a tin can over a soft bed and a soft woman and regular meals. "
"Your bedtime story sucks," Walt says, but he's laughing and he's not pulling away, even goes so far as to shift over to give Ray better access to slide his hand down his pants.
"But it gets better," Ray promises. "Young Walter is lucky enough to be assigned to the most superior team leader in the platoon, a legend by the name of Colbert who would have fit right in as a Knight of the Round Table, and has the even better fortune to meet Colbert's hot young sidekick - that'd be me - and a bunch of other really cool guys. And some assholes, but there's some of those in every crowd."
Walt's breaths are getting slower, like he actually is falling asleep, which is totally not the purpose of this story. Ray shifts so he can push Walt's brief's down, and he brings his hand up to lick his palm before wrapping his fingers around Walt's cock.
Satisfied he has Walt's full attention again, he starts stroking as he continues, "See, the thing is that we look out for each other. It's more than just having each other's backs, because we all do that. Shit, I've got Trombley's back and I wouldn't touch his dick if you paid me. Nah, me and Brad have an understanding, because sometimes there are things you need out here that you just can't ask for."
"I swear to fuck, I think you get off on the sound of your own voice," Walt mumbles, hand covering Ray's own and adjusting his hold into something Walt must like better, because he closes his eyes with an appreciative "mmmm" sound and pushes into Ray's touch. "Like that."
Ray almost points out that he's the one calling the plays here, at least until Brad gets in the game, but they both freeze at the sound of footfalls on gravel. Walt pulls back, wide-eyed and a little freaked, but Ray can see the shadow standing by the edge of the grave.
"It's okay," he says, pulling Walt back close. "It's just Brad."
"Just Brad," Brad says with a derisive sound as he slides down to join them, pressing close against Walt's other side. There's suddenly a lot less wiggle room. "Like Brad is just anything."
Brad sneaks a hand around to join Ray's, stilling his movement. "Hi, Walt. Did Ray just pull you over here and start undressing you, or did he ask you first?"
"Don't ask, don't tell, motherfucker!" Ray is confident that if he was doing something Walt didn't want, Walt would let him know. Besides, he was getting to that. "Walt, we're trying to look out for you too. You're ours, in the fucked up way that seems par for the course here, and we want to give you what you need."
"The point Ray is trying to make," Brad cuts in, "is that we'd like to take care of you, make you forget everything else and just feel good. If you want us."
Ray rolls his eyes, tries to make sure the exasperation is clear in his tone.. "Of course he wants us, Brad! He's a Recon Marine; he's not stupid!"
Brad sighs. "Okay," he amends. "If you'll let us."
Ray can't see Walt's expression, it's too dark, but Walt pulls back enough that he's looking at Ray. Ray doesn't know what he's looking for or if he can see any better than Ray can, but there must be something because Walt nods. "Yeah," he says, soft and rushed, "okay, yes."
Ray doesn't have to see Brad to know he's grinning as he wiggles to get them situated the way he wants them. The darkness makes Ray have to rely on his other senses. He hears the rustle of fabric, feels the brush against his body as Brad works Walt's pants down. Quick and efficient, that's his Brad.
Walt is mostly on top of Ray, but as long as he keeps his thigh pressed up against Ray's dick and Ray has enough room to jack him off, it's all good. For a moment, it’s relatively quiet – the echoes of their breath loud within the confines of the grave, the distant sound of artillery, the occasional burst of laughter from the encampment.
Ray doesn’t like the quiet, especially when he’s not the one being touched.
“Walt, hey, Walt.” He tries to catch Walt’s gaze even though he knows it’s a gesture of futility. “You ever done anything like this? Ever experimented with a guy, stolen moments in a hayloft or maybe after getting drunk and going skinny dipping down at the lake?”
Ray is talking shit to fill the silence, but he still smiles when Walt huffs out a laugh against his shoulder and says, “Fuck you, don’t be mixing my teenage years up with yours.” Walt chokes back a sound that Ray can’t decipher, and Ray can only imagine Brad pushing a finger in Walt’s ass, the slow, solid pressure.
They don’t have a lot of time, can’t take as long as Ray would want. Ray likes it like that, the stretch and burn of just a cursory prep, but he’s not sure how well that’s going to work for Walt. Still, he knows Brad, knows he’s cautious and thorough even under less-than-ideal conditions, knows he’ll do what he needs to do to make it good for Walt. Also, Ray maybe worked some magic to get his hands – Brad’s hands – on some actual lube.
“A girlfriend, maybe,” Ray continues, “slipping a finger back as she’s blowing you, just enough to tease.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ray.” Brad needs a new catchphrase.
“No,” Walt says. “Keep talking.”
It’s really a shame Brad can’t see Ray’s expression of smug satisfaction.
Ray considers Walt’s words to be praise and rewards him for them by twisting his hand on Walt’s cock, feeling the way Walt pushes into his hand and then back against Brad’s fingers.
“I’m not the only one who gets off on the sound of my voice, huh? Or does it just give you something to focus on? It doesn’t matter what I’m saying, does it, so long as you can hear me? Think about this, us, my voice, Brad’s hands. We've got you," Ray's voice is a rough whisper, lips pressed so close to Walt's ear they're practically touching. "Me and Brad, Walt, we got you. It's okay, just let us make you feel good."
Ray can feel it when Walt gives in, relaxes against him. Ray catches Brad's eyes over Walt's shoulder, calm and steady like always, and Brad leans down to kiss the back of Walt's neck because he's romantic like that.
Ray knows what Brad's doing, so he expects it when Brad replaces his fingers with his cock and Walt starts to tense against him.
"Shhh, relax," he murmurs, rubbing his free hand over Walt's back. Something above them shifts, and Ray has just enough light to see Walt’s face. His eyes are tightly closed, tongue peeking out as he concentrates on not making any noise. Ray lets him have that moment. He knows that feeling, the way your body burns and stretches at first, how it overwhelms you. He remembers the first time with Brad and has to close his own eyes for a moment to keep himself in check.
He opens his eyes again, adjusting to the shadows and the dark. He kinda wishes he could see. He knows Brad's look of concentration, could probably recreate that image in his mind if he kept his eyes closed, but even better is the way Brad lets himself slip, let's his guard down just a little bit. Ray doesn't admit, even to himself, that catching sight of Brad's vulnerability, the fact that he might need Ray, need them, just as much as Ray needs him, does something to his heart. Yeah, admitting that would be a little gay.
The rhythm that Brad is setting is slow, but Ray is jerking Walt hard and fast, keeping up a steady stream of nonsense, repetitions of “Walt” and “fuck” and “ours” mixed with commentary on Brad’s technique, on what he’d do if they had more time, on what he imagines Walt looks like. Walt bites down on Ray’s shoulder – he can feel the tip of his teeth and has a fleeting thought of how gross that actually is because he is fucking dirty - to muffle whatever sound he makes when he comes, shuddering against Ray. Brad’s right behind him, going still and then collapsing over them both, breathing heavy. Brad presses another kiss against the back of Walt’s neck, probably the exact same spot. Fucking Brad.
“You okay, Walt?”
Walt nods against Ray’s shirt, turns his head a little to the side but his words are still muffled when he says, “Good, I’m good.” He clears his throat and seems a little uncertain when he adds, “Thank you.”
“Fuck that,” Ray says, before Brad can get any more ideas. “No thank yous, that’s a rule. But if it weren’t a rule, I’d thank you for being so hot.” He pulls his hand out from between himself and Walt and wipes it on Brad’s shirt. It wouldn’t be fair if Brad walked away with less of a mess on him than Ray and Walt had. “And I’ll thank Brad when he gets the fuck off us because he’s heavy.”
Brad laughs, so low Ray might have missed it if he hadn’t been expecting it, and pulls out, pulls away. Walt makes another noise that Ray can’t place, and if that was the type of thing Ray thought about, he’d wonder what other noises they could get Walt to make, would file that away for fantasy fodder for his next combat jack. Ray doesn’t think about things like that, though.
Walt starts to push himself off of Ray too, now that he has room to move, and Ray twists his shirt in his hands. “Where are you going?”
Walt stops, still mostly kneeling over Ray. “Getting off you?”
“Nah, you’re like my own personal Marine-shaped blanket.” Ray reaches for the baby wipes Brad is handing them and uses them to clean the majority of the mess off of them, then tucks Walt back into his pants, patting his ass when he’s done. “Lay back down here, asshole.”
“Ray, you’re on watch after Trombley,” Brad says from above them, already slipping back into Team Leader mode.
Ray waves at him in acknowledgement. He knows this. He’s just going to make sure Walt’s asleep before he gets up. He waits until Walt settles back down against him, runs his hand over his head, trails his fingers over the back of his neck.
“Run out of words?” Walt asks.
“Never,” Ray promises. “Just thought you were done listening.”
“Never,” Walt counters. He pushes his leg against Ray’s still hard cock. “You didn’t get off.”
“I’m good, I’ll take care of it. Go to sleep, Walt.”
Walt hesitates, like he’s going to say something else, and Ray’s got another rule lined up to tell him – it’d be a lie, but half the shit Ray says is anyway – but sighs and settles down quietly.
Ray waits until his breathing evens out and he starts to snore just a little bit. He knows he should get up, go sneak off for a quick jack before he goes to relieve Trombley from watch, but decides he can stay for a couple more minutes, make sure Walt is asleep. Out here, they may not always be able to ask for what they need, but Ray can make damn sure he gives it.
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Date: 2010-07-28 08:23 pm (UTC)\o/ for you writing GK!
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