|
Title: D-Tech: Off Base
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, D-Tech, Sanderson/Steele/Hoot
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Scalp-licking. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
Disclaimer: Made up. Totally fake. Not for profit.
Off Base
Yes.
This was what he’d been hankering for. Wanting, craving, needing.
Jeff’s long, hard body pressed against his, under his, crushed by his. Stretching and straining beneath him, arching up into him. It was far too good to be true, that Jeff would choose to open a business here, in his town, so close but far enough off base to be private. And that Jeff would be so eager for a meeting.
Meeting. Rendezvous. Clandestine reunion.
The driveway had been empty and the front door unlocked when Steele arrived. He’d gone into the outer office and spotted the note on the desk that read “Gone to pick up the supplies we discussed. Please remember to lock the door.” Steele looked at the front door. Was that the door he was supposed to lock? Or was the note for someone else? Should he lock it? He opened the door to the inner office instead.
Jeff had his back to the door. He was hanging his framed, autographed photo of Knut Haukelid on the wall behind a big oak desk. Jeff had heard the door open, of course, and said without looking, “That’s better. You know, it’s not really home until you hang Knut up on the wall.” And then he turned around.
Steele shut the door behind him.
“Wow,” Jeff said. “I thought you were…”
Steele smirked. He loved throwing Jeff off base like that. “Got back early,” he said casually. "Had no particular place to go. ’cept here.” Like this sort of thing happened all the time.
But it didn’t. Not nearly often enough. Maybe it would happen more, now that Jeff was going to be in town more.
Jeff had looked at him with those sharp eyes for a second or two. “Secretary’s gone out,” he'd said. “We’re alone.” Then he’d vaulted over the desk.
“Fuck, Mike, it’s been too long,” he said. That was all he had to say. No one else was around, so there was no need for small talk.
Steele wasn’t stupid. He knew all about Jeff and Gibson. And he knew about that Cajun medic too. Couldn’t really blame Jeff for that one. The man had a sweetness about him. It was beguiling.
But Gibson, he was a little harder to understand. Rash, unkempt, belligerent. And with a chest you could break open coconuts on. Okay, so maybe Steele did understand. Gibson was like some kind of uberhuman. Who wouldn’t want a chance to tackle that?
But an ongoing relationship… and a business relationship as well. That must have been like living with a keg of dynamite.
Didn’t matter. Not then. Not when it was just the two of them on that wonderful couch that held their weight without even creaking. The leather was hot under Jeff’s chest. Steele slid his hands beneath, gripped hard, and bent his head to attach his lips to Jeff’s neck. No more worries about incriminating marks. He could suck and bite and…
Gibson might mind.
Too bad. Steele didn’t give two shits about Gibson. He sucked hard, and put a little teeth into it, too.
Jeff bucked under him, forcing his cock even deeper. Steele moaned. So fucking hot inside. He curled his fingers and felt hard pecs and a pounding heartbeat.
“Oh, fuck, like that,” Jeff growled and bucked again. Steele must have been hitting him just right inside. So right it was making Jeff shake. But the thickness and tightness of the condom kept Steele from coming right away.
Jeff wriggled one arm free and hooked Steele’s wrist, forcing it down. Steele grabbed Jeff’s cock and pulled it experimentally. Jeff started saying “yes yes yes” so Steele continued. Steele looked down and saw Jeff turn his head to the side, face contorted with pleasure.
“That’s right,” he drawled, knowing how much Jeff loved to be told what to do, and knowing that Jeff and Gibson probably talked up a storm when they fucked. Steele would not be outdone. Besides, Gibson probably didn’t tell Jeff what to do, at least not all the time. “That’s right - you come with my cock up your ass.” Steele almost called him ‘boy’, but he stopped himself. He wasn't entirely sure he’d got things right.
As it turns out, he got it exactly right.
Jeff groaned and shot his load on the hot leather. Steele dragged his hand through the come and slicked it up over Jeff’s sleek hip. It was overwhelming, the need to feel the contours, to rub the firm skin. Sometimes Steele wished his could just cover Jeff in come and rub it all over him.
He was still hard, but now he didn’t have to worry about Jeff. Whenever he topped, he always worried about getting the other guy off. He knew he occasionally had difficulty coming when he was getting fucked. It was that tightrope between pleasure and pain, that giving up of power while trying to still direct the action. He tended to get distracted. Steele liked to deal with certainties. Made him feel more in control.
Then he felt himself pushed up to a sitting position. He wanted it so badly. Jeff whipped the condom off him and closed his fingers around his cock, skin on skin. The leather warmed his ass. Jeff was crouched beside him, his cock still swollen, his body slick with come and sweat and so beautiful. Hard body. Hard muscles.
“I missed you, Mike,” Jeff whispered in his ear as he started to jack him off. “Fuck, you look good. I want to fucking eat you up.”
That was Jeff. He loved to talk. God, yes, Jeff’s steady hand and Jeff’s filthy mouth. Steele would never have pegged him for a talker in bed, never would have pegged himself as someone who would get off on it so much. But Jeff always had him doing things he never thought he’d do.
And Steele always wanted more. When the talk got dirty it added an extra edge, an extra level of sin to the proceedings.
Jeff licked up Steele’s neck and Steele flinched a bit. “I won’t bite,” Jeff said when he got to Steele’s ear. “No marks. Don’t worry. I want to, but I won’t.”
Steele wished he could say it was okay to bite. He wanted to say go ahead, anywhere that’ll be covered by t-shirt or shorts is good to bite. Better than good. But he couldn’t say anything with Jeff’s tongue in his mouth like that. The tongue left after a while, but Steele still couldn’t talk because it was moving up, along his cheek bone, painting a little circle at his temple.
He couldn't talk because he knew what was coming next.
He braced himself against the couch for the feel of slightly rough, wet tongue on his scalp.
Oh. Fucking YES. Ever since the first time Jeff did that, Steele had wanted it again. He wondered why it took Jeff so long to get around to it. If Jeff had licked his scalp back in the stadium in the Mog, Steele would have dropped his drawers and let Jeff fuck him in clear view of everyone.
So maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jeff waited so long. Until they had absolute privacy.
Steele leaned into it as the tongue strokes got broader and firmer. He had taken extra care when shaving before driving over, in hopes of that happening. Even though it wasn’t entirely new, he was always at least a little surprised. He kept forgetting he had so many nerves on his scalp. Damn, it was good.
So good he didn’t even notice when the door opened.
Jeff heaved himself up over Steele, effectively shielding the bulk of his body from the intruder.
“Jesus, Hoot, you scared the shit out of me.”
Gibson. Fucking Hoot Gibson standing in the doorway and staring at Jeff’s just-fucked ass. Somehow that bothered him more than fucking Hoot Gibson staring at his own just-fucked but not yet fully satisfied cock.
“Looks to me like he just tried to fuck the shit out of you,” Hoot drawled.
“You’re supposed to knock!”
“Well, it’s my office too.” Hoot slumped into a chair, eyes darkly glittering above at least a week’s worth of stubble. “Don’t let me hold you up.”
Steele felt as if he should say something, but he couldn’t think of anything because throughout the entire exchange, Jeff’s hand had never stopped moving on his so fucking close to bursting cock.
“Well fuck off, we’re busy,” Jeff said.
Hoot leered. “I can see that. Maybe I could help you out there.”
Hell, no. That was way off base. Steele tried to get out from under Jeff but damn, Jeff was heavy when he wanted to be.
“Forget it.” Jeff spat. “He’s mine.”
Steele really needed to say something now. He was being argued over like some kind of possession or a girlfriend or something.
Not that Steele had a whole lot of experience with girlfriends. And neither, he suspected, had Hoot. But he knew Jeff was married to a woman at some point, and he was certainly acting like a jealous high school kid. Someone had to set this right.
But Jeff’s fingers twisted as they pulled and he could only gasp.
“Aw, Jefferson doesn’t want to share his toy?”
Toy! That was taking things too far. Steele opened his mouth.
A gurgle came out. He was so fucking close to coming it hurt.
“Hoot, you’ve got plenty of toys of your own. Besides, you and the captain don’t even get along.”
“That’s because he was an authority figure before. But now that we’re out of the army he’s no longer a superior officer, so I figure…”
Hoot was moving closer. That gave Steele the impetus to speak.
“Gibson, back off!”
“Aw, Captain, I only want to help.”
Steele didn’t see how anything could help. He just needed another few strokes from those talented fingers and some pressure from that hot, sweaty palm, and a little more scalp licking…
Two tongues. Two hot wet tongues on his scalp. Jeff on the left, Gibson on the right.
Okay. This was what he needed. Didn’t even bother him that one of the tongues was Gibson’s. He couldn’t tell it was Gibson anyway, not when he closed his eyes. Maybe from the stubble. Jeff would never let that much stubble accumulate. But Gibson’s tongue was hot and wet and making wide sweeps across his scalp accompanied by growling. Steele was at the five yard line now. So close. He didn’t care that his right bicep was being handled by someone who wasn’t Jeff. It couldn’t have been Jeff, because both of Jeff’s hands are on his cock and his balls, tugging and squeezing just right.
What he did care about was that Jeff was bathing him with long, flat strokes of his tongue, so slick on the smooth skin.
He couldn’t see anything because his eyes rolled back in his head.
And the door opened. Again.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Sergeants! All I asked was that you lock the fucking door when you’re… uh… whoa. Is that... Captain Steele?”
Steele opened his eyes.
He thought he’d recognized that voice.
What the fuck was Specialist Grimes doing in the D-Tech office?
And what the fuck was he doing with his hair that long? And that soft-looking? And with that stubble that made him look like some kind of pretty hippie-type? And since when was his hair fucking red? And when did he started wearing tailored trousers that made his hips look like that? And why the hell was he staring with his mouth open like that?
Oh. Yeah. Steele remembers. He was buck naked, and so was Jeff. And Gibson had managed somehow, even though that was definitely his hand on Steele’s bicep and his tongue all over Steele’s scalp, to get his shirt undone and his pants down around his knees.
Now Grimes looked pissed off. “Look, you two I can explain, but what do you think the Colonel is going to say if he finds out you’re bringing naked captains into the office?”
Colonel? Oh, fuck, Colonel McKnight. So that was why Jeff had called him about Grimes and McKnight and their living situation and… was McKnight going to find out about this?
“You don’t have to tell the Colonel anything,” Gibson growled. “Now, either join in or go to your desk and let us finish. Can’t you tell the Captain is in need?”
Grimes looked at Steele. Really looked at him.
It burns.
Grimes caught himself staring. “Oh. Yeah. I’ll just… uh…”
Grimes turned to leave, and it was Steele’s jaw’s turn to drop. Grimes disappeared behind the door almost as fast as he appeared.
“Cryin’ shame,” Gibson said.
“Did his ass always look like that?” Steele asked. It couldn’t have. Surely Steele would have noticed. It looks… ripe.
“I think so. The man does not suit desert camo, but damn he looks good in civvies,” Jeff said.
“Just think about what he looks like out of civvies,” Gibson sighed.
“Don’t even think it., Hoot. I swear to God. You are forbidden to ever even think about it again, let alone ask him like that. McKnight will fucking kill you!” Jeff snapped at Gibson. It looked like he might toss Gibson out too.
Now that would have been a real shame, because really - two tongues and those big hands all over him, considering the state of his cock…
“Sarn’ts, I think you have something a little more urgent to take care of right now,” Steele barked in his best ever captain voice.
Jeff and Gibson stopped bickering and stared at Steele.
“Gentlemen, I am good to fucking go,” Steele prompted.
Jeff’s mouth ended up on Steele’s mouth, which was fine. He didn’t really need two tongues on his scalp anyway. It had been nice, but Gibson was a champion scalp-licker, and Jeff’s tongue kept Steele from crying out too loud when Jeff’s hands started to work him again. Gibson’s hands were on his arms and his chest and, fuck, on his stomach. Wide and flat and hot, holding his stomach so his back pressed against the couch and he couldn't move at all as Jeff pumped his cock and shoved his tongue in his mouth and when Steele started to shoot and he was sure he’d never shot that much in his life.
“Can I?” Gibson asked.
Jeff was looking at Steele, just staring into him with those fucking icy eyes. He lifted his hand to Gibson’s mouth. “Sure,” he said lightly, but his eyes didn’t lose an ounce of intensity. “The Eversmann thing,” he explained to Steele.
First Gibson, then Grimes, now Eversmann? What was this, a goddamn orgy?
“Hand thing,” Jeff continued, and Steele watched Gibson lick his come off Jeff’s hand, and heard Jeff start to moan again.
Gibson’s mouth was fascinating.
Really fascinating.
He found himself wanting to kiss it.
Gibson finished his licking and straightened up, pants still down around his knees, cock sticking out like teenager’s. “I’ll leave you two gentlemen to your business.”
“No,” Steele surprised himself by saying. He slid his hand down to Gibson’s cock. “Not fair of you to do all the work, get no reward.”
Gibson shuddered under Steele’s fingers. “Captain, I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to put that where I want to put it.”
Steele grinned. “McKnight would kill you if you put that where you want to put it,” he joked. “But I can offer you a reasonable alternative.”
Reasonable turned out to be an understatement. Because Gibson’s cock was, well, as cocky as the rest of him, and he was'nt afraid to use it. Steele wound up on the floor on his knees with his upper body supported by Jeff, who stroked his back with his free hand and did not complain at all when Steele’s teeth sink into his shoulder.
“He’s big,” Jeff cooed in his ear.
“Not as big as you,” Steele grunted, which was true but not a wise statement, because it made Gibson shove into him all that much harder. “Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Steele wailed, hoping Grimes wasn’t listening at the door.
Grimes, as it turns out, was not listening at the door. He was sitting at his desk when they all came out of the office. He had headphones on, and he was typing at the computer. And he was wearing glasses that make him look like some kind of pretty hippie college student. Grimes didn’t even look up. He kept typing with one hand and held up a piece of paper with the other.
“Johnson wants to know when you can make the meet, the camera salesman has been called out of town on a family matter and will phone Monday to make a new appointment and the leather cleaner,” Grimes finally took his eyes off the screen and looked pointedly at Jeff, “is on the shelf above the coffee maker. I sincerely hope you intend to use it because cleaning up after that is not in my job description.”
Later, Jeff explained that they were still working out the job description, as Mr. Grimes had only been working there for a few weeks. There were, apparently, some kinks to be ironed out.
“Thank you, Mr. Grimes,” Jeff said officiously. “That cost analysis on the surveillance equipment done yet?”
“Almost, Sarn’t. I’m a bit behind schedule due to the,” he eyed Steele warily, “diversion.”
“Minor diversion, Mr. Grimes,” Jeff said smoothly. “And there’s no need to mention the captain’s visit to anyone.”
Especially not the Colonel, Steele thought.
Grimes smirked. The little fucker smirked. “Not at all, sir.”
Gibson offered to clean the couch, but he followed them out to the porch first, to say good-bye to Steele. It was time for Steele to get back on base. He didn’t really want to leave, but he was so drained it wouldn’t do any good to stay anyway, and there was always next time. He hoped there would be a next time.
But then, he had always hoped for a next time with Jeff, and there always had been…
Jeff and Gibson looked normal. They must have done stuff like that all the time.
Steele did not.
He was uneasy. He felt good, though. Better than he’d felt in years. But anyone would feel that good, after coming twice and having his cock in that ass and that cock in his ass and those tongues on his scalp and Jeff, oh, God help him, Jeff holding him up and encouraging Gibson to fuck harder and jerking off so his come sprayed all over Steele’s belly and telling him “I want to cover you with my come.”
Steele felt a little too good. It wouldn’t do to repeat this too often.
It was all so neat and candid. No sneaking around. No furtive gestures and confusing sign language. So not like the army.
“Don’t look so glum, Captain. What happens off base remains off base,” Gibson whispered in his ear.
“Next time, I’ll make sure it’s just the two of us,” Jeff whispered in his other ear. “Unless…”
Unless…
Ah, yes. Unless. Unless it was going to be that kind of a next time.
Next: Repercussions
Back to Soldier Porn or Fandoms
|
|
