He's a Man Who Pays Women For Sex or The First Thing You Should Know About Me Is That I'm A Whore
Disclaimer: Based on the eye fucking of the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, and not intended as any reflection on the real people bearing these names.
Notes: Written for the Get Some Porn Skirmish, prompt: Colbert/any/OFC: Brad still likes paying for it once in a while. Big thank you to lunasky for her super speedy beta and helping me unfuck my pronouns.
Sergeant Brad Colbert likes efficiency. He also likes being on libo in Australia because you can order a whore as easily as a pizza, hot and prepared to your tastes. When he gets to England his recon mission is to obtain two things: good curry take away and the number of a reputable escort agency. The Royals are less don't ask and considerably more tell and within 17 hours he's got two business cards sitting on his nightstand. The walls of the hotel room feel more claustrophobic then his tinplated Humvee and the cheap material of the comforter is scratching his ankles. If he has to sit through one more rerun of Coupling he's going to throw his KA-BAR through the screen. At least in Iraq he had Person for entertainment.
A solid knock on the hotel room door is as effective as an "Oscar Mike" over the wire; Brad takes one last drag on his cigarette before discarding it and opens the door wide. He's met with wide green eyes and a row of white, straight teeth. He had specified green eyes and American teeth - none of that British snaggletooth fuckery. Immersion in the all American boy homoerotic wet dream that is the 1st Recon Marines has had a profound effect on his sexual psyche.
"So, are you just gonna eye-fuck me or can I come in?" Green eyes is a wise ass. Brad smirks and steps away from the doorframe allowing entrance into the room.
They stand facing each other next to the bed. "May, I?"
Brad looks over to the night stand and sees long fingers grazing the top of a battered carton, a token from time spent at a cigarette warehouse in Baghdad. He nods. "Help yourself."
His eyes are fixed on the target, watching the pink tongue dart out to wet full lips before a cigarette is placed between them. Brad takes the initiative and lights the end, envisioning how much better his cock is going to look between those perfect lips.
"Thanks. So, Brad, why don't you tell me what you want me to do?" Green eyes coyly look up from under long lashes and that pretty pink mouth is twisted at the corner in a slow smile.
"Cute." Brad says conceding the point. "What do you do?"
"Hundred if you want to suck my cock, one fifty if you want me to suck yours." There is a pause, but Brad's eyes stare back unwaveringly. "Five hundred to fuck. Me or you, whatever your preference. It's a grand for the night."
"Alright."
"You want to be rough. That's extra. If there are visible bruises it's going to cost you. Any questions?"
"Yeah, do you kiss on the mouth?" Brad says with one of his trademark megawatt smiles.
"Cheeky. I assure you, my mouth has a variety of excellent uses which you are welcome to become familiar with."
"I am assured of this."Brad reaches over and grabs his wallet. He takes out a wad of cash, splits it in half and tosses it on the nightstand. "Let's see where that gets us and go from there."
Jailbait shrugs off his fitted leather jacket and Brad is greeted with a tight black crewneck stretched over the hard planes of his chest. Their eyes lock briefly, before he lifts the crewneck up and over his head and tosses it on the floor. Brad stares appreciatively at the body in front of him, all tight lean muscle, until those long fingers settle on his hips and coax him to a seated position on the edge of the bed. When Jailbait goes for the top button to strip himself of his jeans, Brad reaches forward to grab his wrists neatly in both hands effectively ceasing his efforts. Brad shoots him a warning look and Jailbait concedes, watching as Brad gets three buttons undone before wriggling out of his grasp to clear his discarded leather jacket from the bed.
"Leave the jacket on."Jailbait quirks an eyebrow and slips the jacket back over his shoulders.
"If that's what you want." Brad is on his feet now, leather in both hands, tugging the man towards him.
"What I want is for you to take those pretty lips of yours and suck me off."
Brad can feel fingers trailing down his sides, his hips, his thighs as Jailbait sinks to his knees on the carpet. He's seated on his heels, knees open invitingly. His jeans are unbuttoned and the lean expanse of his abs are framed by the body hugging leather. He's a filthy gorgeous fucking picture and Brad swears those green eyes are staring back in challenge.
"Say please." Jailbait says just loud enough that Brad can hear it clear as crystal. It doesn't matter that his pants are still on, he can feel the hot breath against his cock and he's so fucking hard it's getting painful.
Brad yanks him up to his feet roughly by the collar of his jacket, until Jailbait is up on his toes. "Please." He grits out before claiming that pretty pink mouth.
His mouth is just as sinful as it looks, Brad giving access to the insistent tongue and when their tongues glide against each other his belly tightens in pleasure, a direct jolt to his dick. Jailbait sucks on his bottom lip, dragging his teeth and nipping just hard enough to leave an imprint and not draw blood. His hands are tugging at the hem of Brad's undershirt and Brad has enough sense to lift his arms and let himself be stripped of one of his way too many articles of clothing.
Brad palms the back of Jailbait's head as the other man makes his way back to his knees by means of open mouthed kisses down his abs. When he reaches the waistband of Brad's track pants, he pulls down one side, nipping viciously at Brad's hipbone. He is met with Brad's hips thrusting forward in response.
Deft fingers make quick work of Brad's pants, tugging them solidly down his legs until he kicks them off at his feet. He can feel his hot, solid weight resting in Jailbait's palm before he is given a good squeeze. Brad's body encouragingly responds with a throb that runs up the length of his cock. He watches the pink tongue dart out to wet the lips in front of him before it licks a wet stripe on the head of his cock.
When those lips finally close tightly around him it feels like heaven, just as warm and wet as they look. Firm hands grip his ass pulling him closer as that mouth takes him deeper and deeper with every wet slide. After a particularly deep hit, Brad can feel a tongue like electricity on the underside of his cock on the outstroke. That mouth is relentless; he's trying like hell to keep his hips still so he doesn't choke the fucking kid, but when he feels warmth take him all the way down until lips connect with skin, Brad fists the sheets in a crushing grip.
Jailbait pulls off and Brad meets his amused gaze. His mouth is swollen and deep pink. With lips like those Brad should have known he'd be born for this.
"Baby, you can fuck my mouth if you want." Jailbait uses his ace in the hole, his suggestion a direct hit to Brad's self-discipline.
A growl escapes Brad's throat and he rests both hands behind the kneeling man's head. "When I come you're going to swallow every fucking drop."
Brad uses both hands to shove his cock back down Jailbait's throat, letting his hips thrust forward now with no restraint. Jailbait keeps his rhythm, alternating between short slides on just the head and deep slides down to the base and before long Brad can feel the familiar tight coil in his belly and grips the sheets tighter. He glances down in morbid fascination at the wet slide of his cock, his fingers gripping at the boy's cropped hair encouragingly. When Jailbait raises his arms behind him in offering and nods once around his cock approval, Brad knows he's done for. He leans forward gripping the pale wrists in his hand, and jerking the wrists towards him to take him even deeper. Jailbait doesn't flinch.
"Motherfucker" escapes Brad's lips vicious and low. And then he's coming hard enough to roll his eyes back into his skull before his legs give and he falls back on to the bed. "Fucking Christ, Nate."
Nate has lost the leather jacket and is lying next to him on the bed with his head propped. Brad doesn't fail to notice the hard-on in his briefs.
"Your mouth is obscene, Sir."
"Glad you approve." Nate says before placing a kiss that tastes like salt on Brad's lips.
"But I have a request."
Nate looks skeptical. "I'm pretty sure I just granted your request."
"You did," Brad says with a smirk of approval, "And you were superb I might add."
"Thank you--"
"Your jailbait looks and cocksucking mouth make for an exceptional whore."
Nate connects with a playful fist and Brad laughs openly. "So what's your request, Brad?"
"Permission to defile you, Sir." Nate smiles up at him, green eyes bright.
"Sure, but it's going to cost you."
Fin.