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"You know, in Vietnam only 14% of the guys addicted to heroin got re-addicted when they came home."
Ray looked at him blankly, toothbrush still in his mouth. Brad shouldn't have distracted him. His oral hygiene was iffy at best, even when Brad wasn't directing his attention to other things.
"Are you trying to seize the throne of the non-sequitur king? Because I don't suffer no usurpers," Ray said around a mouthful of foam.
"Just thinking about addiction."
Ray took a swig from a water bottle and spat into the Iraqi dust. "What's to think about? I highly recommend it as a lifestyle choice."
"The crowd was shocked to hear."
Ray followed Brad's line of sight, over to where Nate stood talking to Gunny. Brad flicked his eyes away, but not soon enough; Ray was too observant by half.
And had far too much insight into Brad's brain, if his grin was anything to go by. "Oh, I get it. You're thinking about addiction," he said, stressing the 'dick' like the master linguist he was.
"Graduated to third-grade jokes? I'm so proud."
Ray bowed, like this was actual praise, and then busied himself with putting his toothbrush away. He didn't look at Brad as he said: "But if you think that addiction is situational, homes, I'd think again."
What could he say to that?
Brad chose silence instead.
***
Nate slipped into the bathroom behind him, locking the door against the noise of the paddle party. He leaned back against it with a sharp exhale, eyes fixed on Brad in the mirror.
Well. This looked promising.
"You need to stop looking at me like you're mentally peeling me out of my clothes and planning to do some firsthand recon."
Brad looked at him evenly. "That's exactly what I'm planning."
Nate's mouth worked for a moment and Brad's eyes focused there. "Well...you should stop," Nate said eventually.
Brad turned away from the sink to face him. "Sorry, LT. Or, Captain, rather. No can do. Your mouth, you see. It's very distracting."
Nate licked his lips and what was that? A tease? Brad let his mouth curl in response.
Nate straightened under the scrutiny, physically trying to regain the upper hand. Probably. Brad was a bit preoccupied with his mouth.
"We agreed to stop."
"You agreed to stop," Brad corrected. "I might've focused more on you whispering in my ear."
"I was not—I'm serious, Brad."
"You're very serious, yes. Which is why I chose to give such a boot-fuck retard of an idea its due—by ignoring it—and pay attention to your mouth instead. More constructive that way."
"Brad," he said firmly.
"I know you're leaving."
Nate blinked at the abrupt change in topic. "What?"
"Have known for a while. You've got that look, like word you don't want to pass down. But you're not in the chain of command, not anymore."
"I haven't said—"
"Since when do you need to say things to me?"
Nate clenched his jaw and remained silent.
"We have a lousy record of doing the smart thing," Brad pointed out. "Back in the sandbox you said we shouldn't and we did anyway. Here at home you said we should stop and we certainly didn't do that. So what makes you think moving away is gonna do the trick?"
"Third time's the charm," Nate offered with some kind of vain hope.
"Good luck with that." Brad moved over to him, getting into his space.
"This isn't how I expected this conversation to go," Nate said lowly, half to himself.
"I'd advise against listening to Ray when he starts going on about my abandonment issues," Brad said, getting his hands on Nate. He was still too thin, but within him lived that solid core of heat that never wavered.
"Yeah, it's Ray I'm paying attention to," Nate muttered, watching Brad's hands as they undid his fly, snuck in to palm his half-hard cock.
Brad stroked him, slow, and leaned down to murmur in Nate's ear.
"The way I see it, the first time I was a newborn so didn't have much say in the matter. The second time...yeah, that was my bad. FUBARed situational awareness; it happens. But this time I clocked it before we even started. So no, Nate, you moving three thousand miles away, back to your liberal commune of mental masturbation and shared despair, is not a dealbreaker. I don't accept it."
Brad sank to his knees and freed Nate's cock, jacking it idly.
"That's awfully optimistic of you," Nate said, voice wavering as he watched Brad working him.
He looked up at Nate and smirked. "Third time's the charm. I'm growing as a person." Then he swallowed Nate down.
Nate instinctively bucked, but got control of himself, breathing harshly in between his teeth.
And notably, he wasn't arguing. Because Nate's brain was getting in the way again. Thankfully Brad was around to unfuck the situation.
Brad hmmed and sank further down, relaxing his throat experimentally before pulling back again. Deep-throating was still a work in progress. He'd get there. He planned on a lot of practice.
Nate made a strangled noise above him, but still managed to keep his hands to himself, balled in fists and pressed into the door.
Impressive, really, given how hard he was. But Brad had warmed to the idea of bending Nate to his will at his own paddle party, so.
Brad pulled back and sealed his mouth around the head of Nate's cock, swiping his tongue along the underside. He rolled Nate's balls and got another desperate sound for it. He took a breath and sank back down on him while teasing insistently just behind his balls.
Nate snapped, good-boy manners going out the window as he grabbed Brad's head, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his too-short hair. He shoved his cock into Brad's mouth, desperate for it. Brad relaxed his throat and hollowed his cheeks as Nate fucked his mouth, cursing under his breath all the while.
When Nate tensed, Brad pulled back just to the head of Nate's cock, stroking him as he came.
Nate whined high in his throat, flushed, glassy eyes staring down like Brad had done something amazing.
He finally pulled off to spit in the sink. Nate crowded into him, twisting to get at his mouth even before Brad had straightened. Nate licked in as he pulled their bodies flush.
Bending Nate to his will? Check and check. He'd have fun lording this over Nate later.
Brad used their weight to press Nate into the door while he was distracted sucking on Brad's tongue. Brad kissed back and ground his dick into Nate's hip, basking in his appreciative murmurs and clever tongue.
He broke the kiss when Nate's hand started wandering, a little regretful, but well. Timetables and nosy Marines and all. He pulled himself away, putting some space between them and with it, some sanity.
Nate looked at him like he expected a punchline. He blinked when none came. "Seriously?"
Brad reached between them and swiped a thumb along Nate's bottom lip, not bruised—not yet—but the potential was there. "No, I think I'll save that for when I'm sinking into your sweet little ass." His voice sounded gravelly and rough even to his own ears.
Nate's eyes strayed down to his mouth before snapping back up to his and narrowing. "What makes you think I'm just going to roll over for you?"
Brad favored him with his cockiest smile. "Everybody does." He nodded at the door, back toward where his paddle party still raged. "Better get back to your party. Would hate for the recon Marines to send out a search and rescue. They might find what they're looking for."
***
After Nate left, Brad broke out the breathing exercises Rudy had inflicted on them all. They calmed him enough that his cock wasn't in danger of punching though his shorts, so that was something. When his body was back to its typical level of interest while in Nate's presence, Brad rejoined the party, glad of long shirts and lightweight Marines.
"Yo, Colbert, what happened to your mouth?" Lilley called.
"What happens when you suck cock," Brad replied, making his disdain obvious. "You should recognize it, being such an expert."
Ray piped in: "Rudy finally taught you how to suck yourself off? I been trying to get him to spill for months."
"Yes, Ray, we know about your homosexual fantasies of getting Rudy to spill all over you. Please, cease inflicting them upon us."
"Ray, my brother, when you are one with the true dharma, there is no need for self-pleasure; others are drawn to provide it for you," Rudy said sagely.
Brad snorted and raised his fresh beer. "A toast to Captain Fick, not retarded enough for the Marine Corps."
To a chorus of laughter and good-natured bullshit, they all drank.
***
Fin. Feedback is adored.