|
Title: 1 – Army of Two
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warning: Kink. Somewhat unsafe sex. Submission kink. Very bad language. Did I mention it’s kinky? Well, it is. And you should know by now that smoking is bad for you.
Note: Every relationship has to start somewhere.
Army of Two
They ran into each other in a bar, a mile or so from base. Grimes was sitting alone, contemplating his future. So many options, for the first time in years. He’d had enough of the army. It was time to have a new life. His own life.
He’d been drawn to the army by the discipline. Not the obeying orders and saluting part of it. The discipline. The toughness. The hardness… of the life.
He was musing on the very aspects of army life that had prompted him to enlist when he heard a familiar voice. He stood, abruptly. Abruptly enough for his thigh to bump into the table. He reached to stop the beer bottle from tipping over at the same time as McKnight, and when the warm, meaty hand descended on his, he felt it in the pit of his stomach.
“Heard you were done today. Glad I didn’t miss you. Can I buy you another beer?”
Grimes was too stunned to reply for a second. McKnight was glad he didn’t miss him? Did that mean he would have been sad if he had missed him?
Then Grimes stuttered out that he should be buying the drinks since he was a civilian now, and any civilian job would pay better than the army. McKnight laughed and agreed, but since Grimes didn’t actually have a civilian job yet, McKnight bought the next round.
And the next.
There was a lot of joking and laughing, with McKnight sitting next to Grimes at the little table. He was big, much bigger than Grimes, and he liked to lean toward the person he was talking to, which would have been uncomfortable for Grimes, if it didn’t made him so… warm.
Grimes realized McKnight had a bit of trouble hearing over the noise of the bar, the music and the pool table in the back and the talking. He’d had so many explosions go off near him, it had shaved the top and bottom off his hearing range. He wasn’t deaf like Neilson had been, but things got a little garbled. That must have been why he leaned in like that.
At one point, McKnight turned to call to the waitress, and Grimes couldn’t help staring at the scar on his neck. It was wide, raised, and still a bit pink at the ragged edges.
McKnight noticed his stare. He shrugged. “It’s ugly, but it’s the only neck I got, so I wear it with pride.”
Grimes felt like a shit. “Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to stare.”
McKnight raised his beer bottle. “Cut the ‘sir’ shit, kid. You ain’t in this army anymore.”
But Grimes half-wished he still was.
“How’s the foot?” McKnight asked. He looked concerned.
“It’s fine. Only bugs me if it gets really cold, but that won’t matter so much if I stay in the south.” He wasn’t sure where he was going to go or what he was going to do. “You know, I never thanked you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, at the stadium. When you yelled, told everyone to not make me have to crawl. I should have thanked you.”
“Naw, it was the decent thing to do. No one should have to crawl.”
“Not unless they want to,” Grimes replied.
“I suppose,” McKnight said, appraising Grimes with slitted eyes. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
Grimes swallowed, and there wasn’t even any beer in his mouth.
“I don’t like to crawl,” McKnight added.
Grimes pursed his lips. Then he realized how that might look, so he stopped.
“Do you know anyone who likes to crawl?”
Grimes thought for a moment. Thought about what to say. “Um, maybe, sir.”
A smile flitted around McKnight’s lips. “I don’t know about crawling, but you sure do like to call me ‘sir’.”
Grimes felt a little light-headed.
“And I don’t think it has anything to do with my rank.”
A lot light-headed.
“You got an apartment, Grimes?”
“No, sir, I’m living in a house.”
The smile turned into a grin.
Until Grimes added, “With four other guys.”
The smile disappeared. “Not a lot of privacy there.”
“They’re all from the base.”
And turned into a frown. But the eyes still twinkled. “Well, that wouldn’t do, would it? Fortunately, I happen to be staying at my sister’s place at the moment.”
Grimes didn’t know what was fortunate about that.
“While she’s studying in Italy.”
Ah.
So, they got into McKnight’s car and went to his sister’s house, which was on a quiet street of old houses and huge lots. Lots of privacy.
They talked about different guys from the unit, how they were doing, who was recovered, who was recovering, who wasn’t likely to recover. Who hadn’t come home. They got all that out of the way by the time they got out of the car.
Grimes didn’t ordinarily talk about that stuff, but they had to talk about something. They went inside and McKnight got a couple more beers from the fridge, but they weren’t necessary.
A huge, fluffy white cat jumped off the couch and wended her way around and between Grimes’ ankles.
“I’m cat-sitting, can you believe it?” McKnight chuckled as the cat ran upstairs. “And that.” He pointed to a huge, dark fish tank. “I gotta be here every night to feed them, make sure the temperature is okay.”
Grimes made an interested face while McKnight checked the thermometer.
“Fish sometimes die from getting too hot, but more often they die because the air conditioning comes on and the owner doesn’t turn on the tank heater…” McKnight tapped the top of the tank, and the water flooded with light and a thousand colors. He pointed to one corner, where a dazzling display of pink and red half-circles waved in the water.
“What the hell is it?”
“Moon coral. You only see it if you look right when the light comes on. It hides its true colors during the day. Kind of like people.”
The half-spheres seemed to fold in on themselves. The colors dulled and the spectacular moon coral turned into an irregular yellowish lump. A strange, bright orange crab with one claw larger than the other drifted down in front of it, looking as if it was standing guard.
“Orange-claw hermit,” McKnight observed. “That’s a shrimp, and there, in the back, there’s a clown fish. My sister’s really into this stuff. There's a whole list of instructions. See, there’s a real starfish… I haven’t turned on the TV since I got here. Sometimes, I just sit and stare into the tank.”
Grimes laughed nervously.
“What?”
“Um, well, that’s not quite the sort of thing I’d expect from you. Sir.”
McKnight stood a bit taller. “Oh, yeah? And what would you expect, soldier?”
Head buzzing. Too many beers. McKnight’s hand was on his shoulder, and then it was on his head, fingers spread over the inch-long hair at the crown. Only the slightest bit of pressure was enough to send Grimes to his knees, on the wood floor, with his face inches from the crisp uniform covering McKnight’s crotch. Make that, the bulge of crisp uniform covering McKnight’s crotch.
“I’d guessed,” McKnight said quietly. “I heard things but…”
Grimes got up. He didn’t like the idea of things being heard about him. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, if the heard things were what had led to him being here, alone with McKnight, on his first night as a civilian. But sometimes people hear things and then they want to test them out and it has nothing to do with the person being tested. It’s like a game. Or and experiment. Or they want to make fun of you.
McKnight didn’t stop him from rising, but he didn’t take his hand away either. “Hey, it’s a good thing. I wanted to say something, way back, but…”
The buzzing increased.
“I thought you were just some stuck-up office guy at first, you know? You never went out on missions. You acted like you didn’t have to. But then when you did go out, you did good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what Sanderson told me. He said I was squared away.”
McKnight nodded. “I know. You and Sanderson. I thought.”
“What?”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything to you. I wasn’t stupid enough to tangle with a D-boy.”
“What?”
“Not like I’m scared of him or nothing, but there was the question of, you know, team unity and all that.”
Grimes laughed. “You thought me and Sanderson?” It took a moment for this to sink in. “Oh, that’s great. That’s just great.” He had to hold his arms tight round his waist so he wouldn’t laugh too hard and fall over. “Captain Steele would have killed me!”
“Steele?” McKnight’s eyes widened. “And Sanderson?”
Grimes held up his hand with the index and middle finger crossed. “Like this.”
“Wow!” McKnight sat down. But he kept his hand on Grimes’ head, so Grimes had to sit down with him. Except McKnight was sitting on a chair, and there was nowhere for Grimes to go but the floor.
Grimes didn’t mind.
“You mean I could have?”
“No way, man. It was way too crowded back there. This…” Grimes looked down at his knees on the floor, and the way he was kneeling between McKnight’s spread-wide thighs. “You don’t do this sort of thing where guys like that are going to find out.”
McKnight grinned. “I can keep a secret. Can you?”
Oh, yeah, Grimes thought. Secret. He could keep it quiet. But he didn’t know if he would actually keep quiet while doing it, because McKnight was massaging his scalp and pulling his head forward, down, between, upon…
He stopped.
“You okay? Your foot?”
Grimes nodded desperately. He was fine. Just fucking fine, thank you very much.
McKnight shifted his hips forward, let his legs spread wider, pulled Grimes head down until a heated cheek rested against his semi-hard cock. He stroked Grimes’ scalp, keeping the head on his lap turned to one side, and Grimes knew he could see the confusion and panic and lust wash over it.
Grimes rubbed his cheek against the hardening ridge.
“That’s a good boy,” McKnight said hoarsely.
Oh, fuck. How could he tell? How could he know? It was something Grimes kept hidden, locked up tight inside, hidden behind a mask of bravado and arrogance and flippancy. He never let it out in public, never even whispered it in the dark, unless he knew he was safe, or totally anonymous. How the fuck did McKnight know? “How?” he half-whispered, half-wailed. Half-hoping McKnight didn’t hear him.
“I knew,” McKnight confessed. “I just knew from the first time I ever talked to you. It’s not like it’s something I talk about either, you know. But I’ve been at it long enough to be able to spot it in other people.”
Grimes nodded, wondering about just how much experience McKnight might be talking about, and feeling the cock under his cheek grow as the smooth fabric passed under his skin.
“But I’m tired of guessing.” McKnight’s voice had lowered to almost a growl. “And I’m tired of speculating. I wanna know. I wanna know for sure.”
And Grimes wanted to show him. The light from the aquarium flickered over them and Grimes drew his hands behind his back, lined up his forearms, grabbed his elbows. He nuzzled the bulge between McKnight’s legs. McKnight did him the favor of popping the button open, but Grimes was left to his own devices after that. He gripped the zipper pull between his teeth and tugged it down.
Fuck. There was nothing underneath but hot skin and cock. Had he known? Had he planned? Did it matter? Not when Grimes had a thick, meaty, uncut cock lying half an inch from his mouth. Fingers worked the skin of his scalp - but not pushing him, not forcing him. Letting him serve willingly. And the slow, measured, heavy breathing of his superior officer washed over him.
McKnight let out a groan when he Grimes circled his circle around his cock head. As Grimes’ soft lips crept over the loose skin, his cock got harder in response. Grimes struggled to keep it slow and steady, to not swallow it all in one gulp. He wanted this to last. If he sucked the way his instincts were telling him to suck, it would be over too soon. And that wouldn’t do at all.
He wanted to be called a ‘good boy’ again. And again. And again.
He wanted McKnight to want it to last, too. So he held the head between his lips and carefully circled it with his tongue, played with the skin gathered at the tip, felt the foreskin draw back more. McKnight must have showered when he came off duty. He tasted clean, and a little of soap.
Grimes listened to McKnight’s breathing speed up. He dug his fingers into his own elbow joints to calm himself. His cock strained inside his jeans. This was good. So good. Too good.
McKnight pushed his head back. Grimes sat on the floor panting while McKnight lifted his hips and shoved his pants down to mid thigh. Thick, strong thighs, Grimes thought as he watched McKnight settle back on the chair. His legs weren’t spread as wide now, but the top half of the thighs being exposed made up for it. Pale, with wiry hair. Of course they were pale. McKnight would never go out in shorts. He was always in uniform. Grimes had never seen him out of uniform. Until now.
Grimes found himself wishing he was in uniform too. But being out of uniform was okay. It gave McKnight even more authority, somehow. McKnight was the only authority in the room. And Grimes was more than willing to serve in this army of two. He shivered when McKnight leaned forward and ran his hands down his arms, until they covered Grimes’ fingers where they held onto his elbows. Grimes held his breath.
“Good boy.”
God yes, then McKnight tilted back, pulled him forward, and Grimes had to rise up on his knees to get his mouth on the cock, fully hard now, dark and heavy. Now he took as much of it into his mouth as he could. He had to open his jaw wide, struggle to keep his teeth safely covered. Strong fingers guided him now, moving his mouth up and down on the thick shaft, up so his tongue could slurp over the head and then down, deep into Grimes’ mouth.
Grimes heard a rustling from above, the sound of something crumpled, a click. He strained to tilt his head to one side, so he could look up in time to see a plume of smoke coil up to the ceiling. McKnight’s head was back, the cigarette pinched tight between thumb and forefinger of the hand not stroking Grimes’ head. McKnight took another drag off it. He seemed aware that Grimes was watching, but uncaring. He did it casually, as if Grimes was bringing him a coffee to go with his smoke.
Aw, fuck! How did he know?
Grimes was reduced to nothing, sucking cock as if it were the only thing he was good for. And the sex, it was just another thing to McKnight, just another pleasure at the end of a hard day. It didn’t matter that Grimes’ knees were aching against the hardwood floor, that he was being half-choked by the fat cock shoved into his mouth.
His head swam with images of McKnight reading the newspaper with Grimes kneeling between his legs, sucking his cock. McKnight watching a movie with Grimes on the floor, submissively sucking his cock. McKnight watching a porn movie while Grimes obediently sucks his cock. McKnight sitting at the table eating his dinner while Grimes dutifully sucks his cock. Hidden by the tablecloth. Maybe in a restaurant.
McKnight drinking the coffee Grimes made for him.
Fuck. How the hell did he know?
McKnight grunted, and Grimes realized he’d stopped sucking. He was just holding the cock in his mouth. He immediately began to move his head up and down again, sucking and licking for all he was worth.
McKnight blew smoke down on him.
Grimes sucked harder. McKnight was petting his head now, no need to guide him. Grimes sped up, making his stokes long and wet, his tongue swirling through spit and precome.
There was a rattle from the ashtray on the side table, from the cigarette being stabbed out roughly. Shifting from above. The rustle of a uniform shirt, then the slide of the undershirt being lifted. Grimes kept sucking, no matter how much he wanted to look up and see naked torso.
McKnight’s hand slid over Grimes’ shoulders and tugged. Grimes let go and allowed his hands to be pulled up onto McKnight’s thighs, so his palms were on the folds of the uniform trousers and his fingers were splayed over naked skin. McKnight kept a firm hold on his wrists.
“You’re a good little cocksucker, aren’t you, soldier?”
Grimes moaned around the cock. But he didn’t stop.
“Stop.”
No.
“Stop!”
Grimes was pulled off the cock, pushed back on his heels, only McKnight’s hand on his head keeping him from toppling over.
“Pull down your jeans.”
Grimes unzipped and shoved the jeans down as fast as he could.
“Past your knees.”
Grimes squatted awkwardly, pushed the denim and boxers under his knees, then put his weight back on them.
“Kneel up.”
Grimes straightened his body. McKnight licked his lips as he looked down at Grimes’ cock, sticking straight out, slender and gracefully curved, and beginning to drip.
Grimes swayed. McKnight with his shirt off was power and sex, wide thick chest with swirls of dark hair, solid midsection, and the fat cock standing up, slick and enticing. McKnight was studying him, eyes flicking from cock to eyes and back again. Grimes should have felt humiliated, kneeling on the floor like that with his lips and chin smeared with saliva and his cock ready to burst.
From sucking off his superior officer.
From serving.
Okay, so he did. Feel humiliated. And it made his cock bob in the air expectantly.
“Jerk off.”
Grimes hand shook at first, but he took a deep breath and grabbed his cock. He winced. There wasn’t going to be any jerking. The touch of anything on his cock was enough, even his own hand. McKnight shuffled forward on the chair and pulled Grimes by the shoulders at the same time, until Grimes was wedged between his thighs. He grunted, “Good boy.” Grimes stroked his cock three or four times, with the back of his fist getting scraped by the zipper of McKnight’s pants, and came.
Oh, fuck, he came. His come spurted up over his fingers and splashed onto McKnight’s cock. He watched it in a daze, the white cream dripping down the purpled head. He kept coming until he thought maybe it was a dream and he would wake up in his bed soaked in sweat and come from the best dream he ever had.
Then McKnight groaned. “For fuck’s sake, lick it up.”
Grimes dove down, tongue stuck out as far as it could be, flattened it against McKnight’s belly first, then down to slurp the come off McKnight’s balls.
“Motherfucker,” McKnight gritted out.
Grimes licked the cock from base to tip. He swallowed and opened his mouth to take the sticky cock inside. His come hadn’t even had a chance to cool. McKnight’s hand was back on his head, holding him down, forcing his cock deep in Grimes’ throat. Grimes felt hard belly pressing against his forehead, thick curling hairs against his nose, thighs tensing under him. He thought he might suffocate. The thought caused him distressingly little distress.
McKnight took a deep, shuddering breath. He eased up the pressure on Grimes’ head. “Now…”
Grimes slid his mouth up and down the shaft while pressing his lips in a tight ‘O’. The cock swelled against his tongue and pulsed. McKnight swore some more. Grimes felt his mouth fill with come.
“Don’t fucking…” McKnight warned.
Grimes knew. Don’t swallow. He held the surging cock between his lips and let the come gather. When McKnight was finished, Grimes pulled off his cock carefully, sat back on his heels on the floor, hands on his naked thighs.
McKnight slumped in the chair, eyes closed. “Motherfucker,” he muttered.
Grimes had to be careful that none of the come slipped out of his mouth when he grinned.
McKnight pulled his pants up and then sat back down on the chair. He patted Grimes’ head affectionately. “Good boy,” he said. “Swallow.”
Grimes did. He tilted his head back a bit, so the come could slide down his throat first, then he made sure McKnight could see his throat ripple as he swallowed it.
“You spilled some.”
Grimes looked down. There was a small, glossy puddle on the floor. He didn’t know if it was from him or McKnight. It didn’t matter. “Sorry, sir.” He bent double and licked it up off the wood. While he was down there, he figured he might as well give McKnight’s boots a quick shine.
They were spotless. He could smell the polish. They were barely scuffed. He wondered, as he ran his tongue over the smooth black leather, if these were McKnight’s dress boots. They were much too nice to have ever seen combat. Had McKnight known it would come to this? Is that why he was wearing his good boots?
Grimes licked around the curve of ankle and closed his eyes so the fold of the pant leg, where it was tucked into the top of the boot, wouldn’t poke him in the eye. McKnight’s fingers burned the back of his neck. How the fuck did he know?
Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he’d been hoping. Maybe he’d always wanted Grimes like this, with his bare ass up in the air and his tongue on his boots.
“Enough!” McKnight barked and stood up abruptly. He hauled Grimes up to his feet. Grimes just stood there, feeling dizzy, with his jeans down around his ankles and his cock at half mast, the hem of his T-shirt draped over it carelessly.
Arms came around him, thick and strong, and he allowed his head to rest on McKnight’s warm chest. McKnight stroked his back, long even strokes meant to soothe.
“Aw, fuck. That was hard.”
Grimes didn’t move. Maybe he’d heard wrong.
“That was so hard to not throw you on the floor and fuck you.”
Grimes brought his hands up to McKnight’s broad back.
“But that’s what you wanted, right?” McKnight sounded a little hesitant.
You mean, he didn’t know?
“Fuck, yes,” Grimes replied. “Exactly what I wanted.” It was his turn to be hesitant now. “Maybe not everything I wanted…”
McKnight pulled back from him, so he could look him in the eye. “Well, soldier, I have possession of this house for another six weeks. That’s an awful lot of privacy.”
But somehow Grimes knew that it wouldn’t be enough.
“Maybe I should look for a job in town.”
McKnight grinned. Then he moved his hands to either side of Grimes head and pulled him in for a kiss.
Next: 2 Houseboy
|
|
