Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12684768.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Uncharted_(Video_Games)
  Relationship:
      Nathan_Drake/Samuel_Drake
  Character:
      Nathan_Drake, Samuel_Drake
  Additional Tags:
      Young!Nathan_Drake, Young!Samuel_Drake, I'm_going_straight_to_Hell, PWP,
      Masturbating, (_͡°_͜ʖ_͡°)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-10 Words: 3026
****** Something that you need ******
by sea_sighs
Summary
     Nate is alone, bored and also a teenager. It's not a good recipe for
     those who want to stay abstinent.
Notes
     This is my first attempt at Smut so be gentle with my ass ok? Also
     con-crit is so appreciated?? like I appreciate tf out of that shit <3
See the end of the work for more notes
The hours stretched before Nathan, long and vast and empty. On any other
occasion a slump like this would be welcome, but that usually required one of
two things to work. Number 1) Sam and number 2) his motorcycle. And since the
two seem to be intrinsically linked now, Nate was left to his devices in what
basically constituted as a prison. Swap out the static-y tv for a toilet bowl
and the cheesy tropical wallpaper for cement and voilá, prison del Nate.
Nate sighs, closing his eyes against the air con. At the very least that
worked. Somewhere mid-morning, Nate had stripped down to his boxers, the air
outside too hot to even open a window. He’d have taken a walk if it wasn’t
otherwise. Maybe taken a train to the coast or something like that.
How Sam managed to still wear a hawaiian shirt and a vest in this weather was a
mystery in itself. He feels like he might die of heatstroke even with just his
underwear.
Nate looks down he at the grey fabric, pinches the edges. Its thin material
enough but Nate wants it off. He feels the flutter of desire work through his
stomach and suddenly the thought is more urgent.
Nate looks at the clock. 3pm. He wouldn't back until six. Nate had plenty of
time to clean up.
He shucks the fabric off, biting his lip a little as it catches on his dick.
Things like this were relegated to hotel stays and dark nights, usually ending
as quickly as it started. So it’s natural that the first impulse Nate has is to
lick his hand bring himself off as fast as possible, to do it quietly, and to
do it with a little bit of shame.
But this was different. Sam was gone, the sun was streaming through the
curtains and the heat was pressing in on Nate on all sides. And Nate? Nate has
time. He has plenty of it. So instead of licking his palm, instead of doing the
usual, he brings his hand to slowly suck on his finger tips and takes as long
as he likes. His eyes flutter close as the sensations hit him. The way he can
taste the salt and the sweat on the pads of his index and middle fingers, the
sloppy way his tongue swirls around them, bringing out a groan. He loses
himself to the steady sensation of it, fingers pressed against his tongue, the
saliva leaking out in the corners of his mouth.
Nate begins to suck.
He moans around his finger tips because suddenly the soft pressure of his lips
is there, and his mouth is hot and wet. He imagines that his moan is somebody
else’s but he doesn’t know whether it’s him that's giving it, or the one that’s
taking it.
His lips tingle. All he knows is that it feels good. All he knows is that he
wants more
Usually there’s an image, a scenario, a place, but Nate doesn’t mind that
nothing’s coming up. His head is hazy with the heat and it seems like his body
is too. He presses his fingers harder against his tongue, imagining how he
looks. Opening his mouth up like that, feeling how soft it all is. Looking at
how eager Nate is, a perfect O, lips cherry red and slick.
Heat begins to pool at Nate’s stomach, as the idea coalesces itself into
existence. Someone is cradling his neck, familiar and comforting. It slides up
to nape and settles by Nate’s crown, then-
Nate grips his own hair with his other hand. The pain smarts, stinging his
roots.
He imagines someone fucking his mouth.
shit
Nate looks down at himself, fully hard now. His hand that was in his hair had
crept down to his cock without him even noticing it, slowly and lazily pumping
it and doing it dry. He feels warmer and more embarrassed than he has any right
to be, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn't even blink at it. Nate instead he licks
the hand and lets relief and pleasure course through him as the saliva eases
the movement.
The sensation brings him back to where he actually is. In a motel room,
somewhere in Argentina, doing what teenagers do. The air itself feels heavy and
it smells of little like his sweat. In the small part of his mind he hopes that
when this is over, this place'll smell of sex instead.
That'd it'd smell of him.
All of a sudden his breaths seem louder in the silence of the room. More
important. He huffs away, with quiet hah hah hahs and listens to the the soft
slap of flesh on flesh. It sounds dirty. It is. Nate’s dick twitches at the
noise.
It isn't long before Nate is thinking of the image again. Nate wants, and he
wants it so bad that he wants his jaws to ache when this is all over. He’d be
tall, Nate decides, and he’d be strong enough that he’d be able to lift Nate
like he was nothing.
All of that wouldn’t matter though when it came to him. When it came to Nate.
Because all Nate would have to do would be to look up. Just look up from his
lashes for the other person to lose it, a groan ripping out of him, movements
more frantic. He presses his fingers deeper into his mouth pretending that it’s
the heaviness of another person's dick, weighted and thick.
Brown eyes would look down at him, voice cracking low and roughened,
“Nate… god Nate you look so good for me”
Nathans eyes snap open, heart thumping in his chest. He bolts upright, eyes
immediately flicking to the door.
The rush of blood is dizzying.
Did he just- No he couldn’t have. It was just-
Shit.
He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a sick wet pop. He sucks in a deep
breath. This was fine. It was fine. Being cooped up in a place like this, it
was bound to happen. And it wasn’t as if Nate didn’t know. It wasn’t as if Nate
couldn’t see that Sam was handsome. Because he was. And sure Nate had the
teensiest of crushes on him, but that didn’t mean anything at all right?
It meant nothing, right?
Nate groans as he throws his head back onto the pillows.
Couldn’t he just have one nice thing in peace?
He looks back to still hard dick and wants to be ashamed that it hasn’t
flagged. But he isn’t. He really really isn’t. Leave it to teenage hormones to
make Nate shameless. Shakily he grabs it again with the hand he had sucked on,
nearly hissing at the sensation.
Fuck that felt good.
He rocks his hips a little before using his hand. Up and down, slow lazy pumps
watching how his dick disappears in his fist. This was fine. Nate could be
creative, he could just think of something else.
He thinks of the default.
Women.
He thinks of all their curves and their breasts, the slow lazy way they can
move, all liquid, all enthralling. He thinks about kissing soft lips and
sucking on their nipples. He imagines their stomachs, flat and the cut of their
v. He thinks biting it there, he thinks of-
Crap. Crap. Crap.
He thinks of Sam.
Sam laughing at Nate as he tries to be seductive, Sam throwing Nate onto the
bed, crawling over him, spreading his legs out and fuck, taking him apart. Sam
being Sam, looking at Nate as if he was the only person that mattered, as if he
was the only for him in this whole world.
Nate wants groan again but not in the good way. He wants to smack some sense
into himself, take a breather, think of anything else but this. But. But rhythm
is picking up and Nate just. Can’t. Stop.
Nate moans.
Pleasure swirls around the base of his stomach and if you couldn’t fight it,
Nate gasps, well you might as well join it.
A flurry of memories wash over Nate's mind.
He remembers the time where Sam had him against the wall, thigh pressed against
his crotch trying to shield Nathan from the pursuers. He imagines Sam pushing
into him that just bit further and realising Nate was rock hard, a flick down
Nate’s jeans, and then a careful crafted smirk, a smirk that almost feel like a
threat.
He remembers the stretch of Sam’s back as they went skinny dipping on private
property, sinews moving smoothly as he cut through the water and the pale
creamy skin on the inside of Sam's thighs. He'd wanted to bite it, kiss the
little dips right above Sam's ass. Nate looked away instead.
He remembers Sam touching the hickies on his neck, looking at Nate with grin
and a shake of his head. Nate imagines him staying, peeling off Nate’s shirt
and pressing more than just his fingers over Nate’s bruises. He imagines Sam
adding to the splash of purple, bruise over bruise, body over body.
They would rut and fuck like animals, Nate decided. Too desperate for anything
else than the assurance that they’re still alive. Sam would rock up into Nate,
wedging him between sheets and the impossible heat between them. Laughing into
the curve of Nate’s neck at how eager both of them are. Laughing while Nate
would moan, and grinning the whole way through. He would laugh and laugh and
laugh, until Nate is reduced into a mess, a human version of a puddle and Sam
would stop laughing and would start fucking. But that wouldn't mean that he
wouldn't be tender. He’d press kisses to where Nate had thrown his head back,
hold Nate's hand as Nate shook himself apart and Nate would be crying for Sam
to just do it, to just fucking touch him. And Sam would. He always always
would.
Nate gasps as he looks down himself, his whole body writhing and sweating. It’s
desperate how much Nate wants it. How much he wants Sam. Pleasure is only
building by the base of his spine and it’s surprising how good this feels. It’s
surprising how much he doesn’t want this stop.
Because trust him, there is a moment where Nate wants it to stop.
A moment where the noise of the rational part of his brain shouts louder than
the fog of pleasure, giving a multitude of reasons why this was the most bad of
bad ideas Nathan’s ever had in the history of bad ideas.
But.
But all it takes is an image.
One image of Sam’s smirk to send all crashing down. Of course, Sam was good at
being bad.
Nate moans and thinks distantly, how he might look unhinged. With the way he's
moaning, with how his hair has stuck to his forehead with his sweat soaked
skin. But it doesn’t matter. Not when everything feels this good. Not when the
Sam of his dreams is looking at him in this way
The mess of images crystallise and Nate is suddenly grounded again.
He doesn’t think of the wall, or the hickies or the skinny dipping. No. Nate
thinks of here. In this pay-per-day fleabox, air just as hot. Air just as
heavy.
He thinks of Sam, coming in from the door and seeing Nate like this. Jacking
off, sweat soaked and naked. And at first Nate wouldn’t see him, he’d be
pumping his dick just like this, just like he was doing, focused on the
sensation as each stroke brought sparks of pleasure down to his cock. But then
Nate would see him and and everything would become different.
He’d put on a show. He’d look to Sam, and he’d put on a show. It was only fair
right? With the way Sam got to look as good as he did, but never see what he
was doing to Nate.
So Nate would do it. Would look at him as he fucked his hand and gasp out his
name, heart in his throat, head in his hands.
Sam would walk over, slow and deliberate, jaw clenched and hands pressed into
fists. And Nate would cry out for him again, just as he was doing now, blinking
up and hoping that he would get the message.I need you to be closer. Please
come closer.
And Sam would. He always always would. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease.
That he couldn’t play with Nathan just cause he could.
“I don’t know Nate. Don’t you think this is messed up?”
“No.” Nate gasps out, his hips snapping up in his fist, “No I don’t”
“Maybe I do.”
And Nate would laugh.
“Maybe you do.”
And there would be no mistaking the look in his eyes, pupils blown wide.
Because if Nate was screwed up in the head then Sam would even more so. Because
Sam knew it was wrong and he liked it.
He would slide his hand up and down the inside of Nate’s thigh, slowly, ever so
slowly. Laughing just a little.
“I think maybe I need a little convincing”
“Yeah?” Nate’s breath would catch as Sam’s thumb brushes past his balls.
“Yeah.”Round and round the thumb would go past but never close enough to the
core of Nate to get any relief. Nate wouldn’t know kissed who first. Maybe Nate
because he’s frustrated. Maybe Sam because he’s not. But suddenly there would
be a clashing of teeth, tongues twisting against each other pouring liquid heat
down Nate’s spine. He knows he might be gasping and moaning like a pornstar,
but he doesn’t want this to stop, not when Sam’s cradling his face like this,
not when he’s teasing Nates bottom lip with his teeth like this.
Nate’s lungs would burn. Shock and pleasure crashing his body as Sam wraps a
hot hand over Nate’s and pumps. It would feel so good that Nate would almost
want to cry, but Sam would be there again, swallowing up the whine building at
the back of Nate’s throat.
“God Nate you look so damn good.” He’d say in between kisses, sucking bruises
right above Nate’s collarbone, right where everyone could see. “You wanna be
good for me?”
And Nate would be embarrassed by how quickly he would say “Yes.” Hiss it out
half a gasp, half a plead. He’d look down and see how Sam’s hand would slow,
the pressure lightening, sadistic in the way Nate never knew it could be.
“Then tell me what you want”
And Nate would look up at Sam then, and it’d feel like too much. He’d be so
close, Nate is already so close, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.
“Yes you can, Nate c’mon it’s not that hard.”
Nate would shake his head, unable to use words, nerves too raw for anything but
a moan and curse words. He rock his hips up, groaning at the friction, but he’d
pay for it. Sam’s hand would stop and press themselves against the bones of
Nate’s hips.
“Ah ah ah Nate. If you wanna get off I need to hear you say it.”
“Fuck you” But Nate says it out of desperation, more than anger. He’s close,
he’s so so very close.
But Sam would laugh like he always would.“I’m sure you want to Nate, but that’s
not what I’m asking. Just-”
He’d come close, kissing Nate tenderly, “Settle down.”
They’d slow down for a moment and Nate would only notice then, how Sam’s hands
would travel up and down his sides, driving the air in Nate’s lungs out. He’d
flick a nipple here or there, as they kissed and he would dutifully swallow
down any moans that Nate had to offer. Sam would kiss his lips, then travelling
down, would kiss his jaw, following its line until Sam reached Nate’s ear.
He’d whisper low and sweetly, “I’m just asking you what you need Nate. That’s
all I need. I need you to trust me.”
And Nate could never truly say no to Sam. Not really. He looks to Sam as Sam
looks to him and it’s enough.
“Jesus Sam I need you”
And just like that Sam would be gone, withdrawing and leaving Nate with an
empty space. Nate would panic just for a moment and then suddenly there would
be a hot wet heat around his cock and Nate would gasp because there Sam was.
Looking up from him under his lashes, brown eyes with a hint of a grin, bobbing
up and down Nate’s cock.
“Sam” Nate moans, his heart ready to jump out of his chest, “Sam don’t stop,
fuck”
Sam would hum in the joking way of his, but it wouldn't matter, because the
vibrations would be going straight to Nathan's dick. Then Sam would be
laughing, and it'd be worse, so much worse. Because Sam would slow down. He'd
tease Nathan because he could. Tongue swirling around Nathan's head, kissing it
and sliding it on his lips. His cupid bow and curve of his bottom lip, the only
thing visible between Nate's dick. And just when Nate would ask him to knock it
off and to hurry it up, Sam would know. He'd do it. But only the way that he'd
want to, relentless, almost cruel. Bobbing quickly down and sucking all the way
up, sending tidal waves of pleasure through Nate, making him writhe, making him
feel like his whole body was lit with flames.
"Sam" Nate whines, "Sam please, please-"
The air in his lungs is high and tight, the pleasure building up and up and up-
The orgasm hits him so hard that Nate whites out, he barely recognises Sam’s
name tearing out of his lungs, his throat, his mouth. Cum shoots over Nate’s
naked shaking body, spilling onto his hand but Nate doesn’t even notice it,
head clouded in a haze. He flumps back onto the bed, sticky everywhere and he
sighs, eyes fluttering close.
The cold air washes over his body.
A crash.
“Nate?”
Sam blinks at him from the door.
End Notes
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     thank you for reading!
     if you like or dislike, hmu tell me why? I'd love to hear your
     thoughts :)
     (or if you, yeno wanna scream at me you can find me at my tumblr at
     in-diem.tumblr.com!)
     Ciao cari!!
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