Nate refused to give up the NoLiTa apartment. He refused to go to NYU—“do I look like some fucking hipster?”—or Columbia. He says you don’t need to move with me when out of the seven schools that accepted him, he chooses Amherst. There are times when Brad honestly wants to reconsider. It’s fucking cold in Massachusetts, and they have to fly in Hartford’s Bradley airport and then drive an hour whenever they come back from a photoshoot, and retarded undergrads are retarded. Especially the freshman. But then Brad gets back from two weeks in Majorca getting oil rubbed all over him and sand up his ass to find Nate sitting on their Restoration Hardware sofa in pajamas and a pair of geek chic glasses typing furiously at some paper he’s got due in twenty-four hours and Brad is really glad he said hell to the fucking no to long distance.
“I brought dinner,” he says, bending down to kiss Nate who manages to wickedly slide his tongue along the crease of Brad’s lips without a stutter in his typing. “Wendy’s, special treat,” he says and grins, licking Kiehl’s off his bottom lip. The winter dryness gets to Nate up here. He smears lipbalm on constantly and asks Brad to rub him down with Lubriderm in the hard to reach places like the middle of his back.
“Mmhmm,” Nate replies, distracted. He aggressively hits the spacebar and Brad bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Later they’ll have time for other things when Nate’s sent off the paper, put his books and papers away, and eaten the fast food Brad got them, because bugging Nate to cook when he had an assignment was like asking him to pry out one of his own teeth. Brad will tie Nate’s wrists to the bed, and Nate won’t even bother to take his glasses off. He’ll pull and struggle at the knots that Brad’s made, and he’ll moan with every touch of Brad’s mouth to his skin like the slutty school boy he is.
He’ll tell Brad he can take it harder and faster and he’ll get vicious, find a way to fight against his bonds and wrap his fingers against the rungs of the headboard Brad ordered custom. He’ll growl, “Are you tired? Is this all you’ve got?” And Brad will slow everything down, slide his dick out so that only the head is holding Nate open. He’ll look down at Nate and share breath with him, until he begs, and whatever fear he has over his damn ten page paper melts away. He’ll kiss Brad, and tighten his legs around Brad’s hips, not to spur him on, but just to say ‘I’m here.’ And Brad’s heart will fly up into his throat, and he’ll forget why he hates Amherst.
But that’s all later. For now, he’ll settle with plying Nate with cheeseburgers and a few subtle reminders to breathe, the papers going to be fine.
Re: MODELS AU Prompt #2
“I brought dinner,” he says, bending down to kiss Nate who manages to wickedly slide his tongue along the crease of Brad’s lips without a stutter in his typing. “Wendy’s, special treat,” he says and grins, licking Kiehl’s off his bottom lip. The winter dryness gets to Nate up here. He smears lipbalm on constantly and asks Brad to rub him down with Lubriderm in the hard to reach places like the middle of his back.
“Mmhmm,” Nate replies, distracted. He aggressively hits the spacebar and Brad bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Later they’ll have time for other things when Nate’s sent off the paper, put his books and papers away, and eaten the fast food Brad got them, because bugging Nate to cook when he had an assignment was like asking him to pry out one of his own teeth. Brad will tie Nate’s wrists to the bed, and Nate won’t even bother to take his glasses off. He’ll pull and struggle at the knots that Brad’s made, and he’ll moan with every touch of Brad’s mouth to his skin like the slutty school boy he is.
He’ll tell Brad he can take it harder and faster and he’ll get vicious, find a way to fight against his bonds and wrap his fingers against the rungs of the headboard Brad ordered custom. He’ll growl, “Are you tired? Is this all you’ve got?” And Brad will slow everything down, slide his dick out so that only the head is holding Nate open. He’ll look down at Nate and share breath with him, until he begs, and whatever fear he has over his damn ten page paper melts away. He’ll kiss Brad, and tighten his legs around Brad’s hips, not to spur him on, but just to say ‘I’m here.’ And Brad’s heart will fly up into his throat, and he’ll forget why he hates Amherst.
But that’s all later. For now, he’ll settle with plying Nate with cheeseburgers and a few subtle reminders to breathe, the papers going to be fine.