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Title: The Cajun Medic
Author: heartofslash
Fandom: Black Hawk Down - D-Tech, the Long Haul, and a character inspired by Band of Brothers
Pairing: Sanderson/Hoot/the Cajun Medic, aka doc Eugene Roe
Rating: Explicit, the way Hoot and Sanderson like it.
Warnings: Explicit, somewhat unsafe threesome. Really, don't do this at home. This is fantasy.
Disclaimer: Everyone is based on something. Hoot and Sanderson are based on composite characters from Black Hawk Down, and the Cajun medic is a modern version of Doc Eugene Roe from Band of Brothers, based on a real guy but obviously this has nothing to do with the real guy. I'm playing with soldiers here, nothing more. No profit, no harm.
Notes: I have tried to get Eugene's speech patterns down, but I don't actually own a copy of BoB, and the youtube vids kept crapping out on me *grrr* Also he's a modern version of the character. If you haven't seen Band of Brothers, here is what you need to know: Eugene Roe is a Cajun medic. He has lovely healing hands. He's very pretty.
He was played by a British actor named Shane taylor, who is also v. pretty.
Everything else you need to know is in the fic.
Special note: As always, I am especially indebted to 'Lionflame, who is no longer online (and I miss her dreadfully). She is the genius who introduced "Jefferson" as Jeff Sanderson's first name, and I love that idea to death and adopted it immediately. Let's raise a toast to fandom communities, fanon and shared ideas!
The Cajun Medic
"He likes to be held."
"What?"
"Held."
Held? Like his cock? Like a cock ring? Hoot wasn't much for accouterments. Sex toys were sort of overkill when you had Hoot's sex drive, level of fitness and cock. "You mean like his cock?"
"No, his body. In your arms," Sanderson said.
"My arms?" Hoot asked.
"Yeah, your arms. You're going to hold him while I suck him off."
"You got the whole thing planned, right?"
"Not the whole thing, just the starters. I told you, he's nervous enough without you scaring the shit out of him. So don't deviate from the plan. You hold him; I'll suck him off. Trust me, you're gonna love it."
Hoot did not agree. He liked cock. He'd always like cock. At first he'd liked his own cock. Once he was old enough he liked other guys' cocks. He like looking at them, touching them, licking them, sucking them, jerking them off, taking them up his ass. How could holding be better than blowing?
"He's really… when you hold him in your arms… you'll just have to find out for yourself."
"Okay," Hoot said. "I'll just hold him while you blow him. Then we get to fuck, right?"
"No! No anal."
Hoot shook his head. His hearing must not have been working properly, because he could have sworn Sanderson had just said that the two of them were going to have sex with his Cajun medic, the beautiful Cajun medic that always made Sanderson look a little goofy in the face for days after they got together (Hoot could always tell) and there was not going to be any anal activity.
"No anal?" Hoot repeated. "What are you crazy?"
"He doesn’t like anal."
Damn. Anal was another thing Hoot really liked. He loved fucking. And he loved being fucked. And, God, he loved to fuck Sanderson's ass, Sanderson's tight, firm, perfect ass. And he loved Sanderson's cock in his ass. That was a given. He knew some people weren't into assfucking, and he could even understand, on a theoretical level, why they might not like it, but he could not understand why Sanderson would go ga-ga for a guy who didn't do anal. Sanderson liked anal. Hoot knew that from copious amounts of personal experience.
Hoot reached over and cupped a tight, firm perfect bun.
"Hoot!"
Hoot squeezed.
"Jesus! He'll be here any minute. Don't get me all horny."
"I thought that was the whole point of this exercise."
"No. Yes. Aw, shit. Look, he's shy. He's never been with two guys at the same time, and he's going to be skittish enough without you grabbing asses. But you can touch his ass, once things get going, just stay away from his asshole. That's all I ask. That and… just hang back a bit at first, okay? I don't want to scare him off. But don't be too personal, because he's never been with a stranger either, and he's kinda interested in that… not anonymous, but someone he doesn’t know all that well. So this is like a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy fulfillment kind of thing. I promise, it'll be worth all the restrictions."
Hoot shrugged. Sounded fucked up to him. "If he wants a stranger, why doesn't he just do a stranger?"
"Because a stranger wouldn't know about what he likes."
"Yeah, well, that's the whole point of fucking a stranger."
"I told you - no fucking! "
"Jesus!"
"Hoot, just do this for me. Please. I promise I'll fuck you after, if you really need to get fucked. Or you can fuck me. I really want to do this for him. It's his 30th birthday. Didn't you want a nice present on your 30th birthday?"
"I was in a battle zone on my 30th birthday."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"At least I was getting fucked up the ass, even if it was purely metaphorical."
"Okay. I said I was sorry. But what about your 40th birthday?"
"You know damn well what I was doing on my 40th birthday. It wasn't that long ago – and I had my cock shoved up your ass."
"It's exactly like that. Except without the assfucking."
Damn.
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Sanderson took the Cajun medic's coat and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Eugene liked those sorts of gestures, and Sanderson like them too, because they made Eugene smile and blush a little, and when he smiled and blushed a little he looked angelic.
Jesus, he was beautiful. It hit Sanderson like a ton of bricks every time he saw him. Deep brown eyes with long lashes and the prettiest damn smile, all set in that angelic face with no harsh lines, no sudden angles. It wasn't that his face was round or squishy. It was actually kind of slender, like the rest of Eugene, and quite well defined, but not in a harsh way. Every line was so perfect he was seamless. There was nothing harsh about him. Even the dark stubble on his upper lip and chin was soft. There wasn't much beard on his cheeks. He tended to have a bit of stubble, at least whenever he saw Sanderson. Maybe he thought it made him look older. It didn't. It just made Sanderson want to kiss his smooth cheek and rub his lips over his chin and upper lip.
Eugene's hair was black, but the contrast of his pale skin with the black hair wasn't severe like it would be on anyone else. The hair was soft, thick and soft. Sanderson had to control the urge to grab it. He wanted everything to go smooth. As smooth as Eugene's cheek against his lips.
"What's this big surprise? You were so mysterious over the phone," Eugene said in the accent that made Sanderson's gut do a little flip-flop. The 'over' sounded more like 'ovair' and the phone was almost 'fun' but the 'n' was half not there. Vowels got dragged out endlessly, and the ends of words faded into nothing, but the 'th's were more like 't's so the overall effect was long and short at the same time. And the whole thing sounded like music.
Sanderson rubbed his palm over Eugene's slender shoulder. "Let's have a drink and we can talk."
Vodka. Eugene liked vodka, for some reason. Sanderson didn't mind vodka. It was okay. He liked whiskey better.
"You remember that time you told me about your dream?"
Eugene nodded. "To open a clinic for children in Africa."
"No, not that dream. Last fall, remember? We saw the deer on the hill and then we sat by the water."
Eugene took a gulp of his vodka and orange. He got the worried look that made him look even prettier. His thin brows wavy and he had the slightest pout. He bit his upper lip. Never the lower one, always the upper one.
"Your fantasy," Sanderson said, hoping he sounded seductive when he really felt a little anxious.
Dark eyes turned darker. "Yes. I remember. A stranger take me in his arms, and I am naked." Eugene shivered. "You want to pretend we don't know each other?"
God, yes. Why hadn't Sanderson thought of that? Roleplay! He could be the stranger, and take this lovely man in his arms and kiss him until he was breathless and then… but Hoot was upstairs. Waiting.
"Not quite. I have… a friend."
Eugene sat up straighter and leaned away from Sanderson. He turned his head slightly to one side. The brows were positively squiggles. (If Sanderson were Hoot, he would have wanted to lick them straight. Instead, he sat and looked at them and got harder.) "What kind of… friend?"
"A close friend. Very close. I told him about you, about us. Nothing too detailed, just that you might like to try something with a stranger, but safe. Eugene, do you trust me?"
Eugene smiled. "Of course, I trust you, Jefferson. I couldn’t do the things we do if I didn't. You are a good man. Honorable. I'm sure this friend of yours is good and honorable too."
Well, Sanderson might not go that far. Good, sure. Hoot was good. Hell, Hoot was great. Honorable? In a willing-to-risk-his-life-for-his-country, absolutely. But all-round honorable? Gentlemanly-type honorable? Sanderson guessed so, as long as there was such a thing as an honorable slut.
"He's…" There were so many words he could use to describe Hoot. "He's fit, and he's adventurous. Good-looking. You may have seen him around Fort Bragg. He's very sensual. He loves making love. He's very good at it, and he loves beautiful men."
Eugene gave Sanderson a gentle push. "Get out! You set me up with your slutty friend Hoot?"
Oh, god. The way he said 'Hoot' sounded more like 'oot', and Sanderson had never, ever heard Eugene use a nickname before. "You know Hoot?" he asked faintly.
"Everyone knows Hoot. The man is legend."
Sanderson had not been aware of that. He'd known about Hoot's reputation as an operative, as a soldier, as a warrior, but…
"This Hoot, he's beautiful himself. I seen him, but only in uniform. You know I'm not into the uniform thing. But he has beautiful eyes, I think."
Sanderson wanted to say they weren't as beautiful as Eugene's, but that wasn't true. You can't compare a guy like Hoot with a guy like Eugene. But Eugene was right. Hoot's eyes were beautiful.
"Yes," Sanderson said. "He is. He's very beautiful." Hoot would kill Sanderson if he heard him say that. "Beautiful dark eyes, and he's got an amazing mouth. He loves to use it."
Eugene squirmed a little in his chair. Yeah, Eugene liked the tongue action.
"He likes to lick," Sanderson said. "I know he'd like to lick you here." Sanderson traced his fingertip down Eugene's throat, around the most perfectly protruding prominentia laryngea ever. Sanderson knew the proper name of it because he'd looked it up as soon as he could after the first time he licked Eugene's Adam's apple. Sanderson leaned in close and gave a soft, teasing lick to the hard bump. "Just like with a stranger," he whispered, "only safe."
Eugene's throat quivered under Sanderson's tongue. "But Jefferson, you know, I have these limits. These borders. It's very personal. I don't like to even talk about them."
Sanderson forced himself to retreat. Not good form to try to convince someone of something while licking one of his erogenous zones. That might be perceived as coercion. "He knows about them. He's fine with them."
"But what… what if I wanted to go over the line?"
"With him?"
"I thought with you. Maybe."
Sanderson clenched his teeth. Damn! He'd arranged for one fantasy, only to be confronted by another. And Eugene was shipping out. This was the last time they'd see each other for months on end. Maybe even a year.
"We could do that." But Hoot… waiting upstairs. Not in uniform. He was in blue jeans, for fuck's sake. And a t-shirt. Tight t-shirt. Slut. "We could do that, but we don't have to leave out your stranger, do we? We'll take it slow."
Sanderson would figure out how to take it slow. Somehow.
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Hoot was beautiful. That was true. He was bigger than Eugene remembered, almost bursting out of his t-shirt, and his hair was longer, lush and thick like Eugene's, not quite so dark, and more wavy. But he was the same Hoot. Big. Strong. Very manly.
Not as beautiful as Jefferson. Eugene didn't know anyone as beautiful as Jefferson. Jefferson was so gentle with him, so understanding. Such a manly guy, so big and strong and popping with muscles but he held them all in check and was gentlemanly and courteous, even when Eugene could tell he was burning to go all out.
Jefferson's restraint was the most beautiful thing Eugene had ever seen.
That and Jefferson's body. Oh, Jefferson's body was a wonder. It was long and lean and hard and his sweat had the most delightful smell.. He had soft hair, not thick and unruly like Eugene's. It was supple and when it was long enough Eugene could separate out a tendril and it was almost wispy. And Jefferson's smooth skin was firm everywhere. Eugene loved Jefferson 's behind. Derriere. Jefferson would call it his ass, but Eugene preferred language that wasn't so crude. He could swear like the rest of them, especially in battle, but he did not like to associate sex with battle. Nothing crude.
Eugene knew that Jefferson was crude when he wanted to be. He liked to use those words that made Eugene's face burn, the ones that made him uncomfortable. But if Jefferson said them carefully, while he was touching Eugene, while rubbing against him, while moving his mouth on Eugene's bare skin, they made Eugene explode.
Jefferson was a gentleman. He never embarrassed Eugene. He never pushed for more than Eugene was willing to give.
Eugene was not so sure about Hoot. Hoot looked like he would like to push. And be pushed. He was sure that Hoot and Sanderson liked to push each other. Eugene might like to watch that, but he was not yet sure he wanted to get between them.
Eugene knew that if he were the only man in Jefferson's life, then Jefferson would not be satisfied. That, Mamere had told him when he was young, only a teenager, was what made men different from women. Men often wanted more than one lover. One person, she said, could not satisfy a man. Then she shook her head, and Eugene hated his grandfather for a moment.
Now, as Eugene thought back on it, he realized his grandmother had never mentioned women, not in particular. She always said person, or even lover, but she never said "When you grow up and fall in love with a woman," it was always "when you are older and fall in love with someone..." Was there something she knew, even back then, that he had not discovered until a few years ago?
Hoot sat next to Eugene, not touching, but he was exuding something, some kind of masculinity. He might as well have been touching him, because Eugene could feel it. But Hoot was showing complete restraint, and that was making him very sexy.
Jefferson was being the responsible one, laying out ground rules, saying things Eugene couldn’t imagine saying out loud. Safe word was "halt". Safe word – who would have thought that Eugene would ever use a safe word? Eugene turned to Jefferson.
"What is your safe word?" he asked. "With Hoot?"
Jefferson looked a little sheepish. "We don't really need one. But since you have your… we want to respect your limits. We want you to be…" Jefferson sighed. Out of words. He did that a lot with Eugene. He nudged Eugene's cheek with his nose. "Will you let us do this for you?"
Okay. Fine. Sanderson had not been exaggerating. It was damn near heaven to hold this young man in his arms.
Hoot couldn’t believe it was Eugene's 30th birthday. That had to be a mistake. He seemed so much younger. Made Hoot feel like a dirty old man, but Hoot had always liked that feeling, and that, combined with the way Eugene's slender body twisted in his arms, made this fucking heaven.
God, that accent. Sanderson had warned him about the accent. The soft voice had such a strangely foreign sounding accent, but it was as American as Hoot's drawl, only so much nicer to listen to. And he was so polite. He said 'please do' when Hoot asked if it was okay to take off his shirt. And then he'd said thank you when Hoot had run his hand over his almost bare chest with its gentle curves and little pink nipples and dusting of soft, black hair. Then Hoot had taken off his own shirt, and the kid – he wasn't a kid but he seemed like one – had put both his hands over Hoot's pecs and gasped, and Hoot chest's heated up.
The hands were magic. They sent out something. Some kind of energy. It wasn't quite sex. It might have been healing. Sexual healing. Hoot restrained himself from smirking at that, because a smirk might be taken the wrong way, and he didn't want to spoil this. He'd been waiting too long to meet this Cajun medic.
Sanderson had mentioned him enough times. Hoot had asked about him after seeing him at Fort Bragg one time. "Who was that kid I saw you talking to? Looked like an angel." And Sanderson had smiled and said, "Ah, he's Cajun. He's a medic." And there was something in Sanderson's smile, something sweet and private.
Since then, Hoot had always known when Sanderson managed to hook up with his Cajun medic. And here Eugene was, in his arms, and he was like nothing Hoot had ever had in his arms.
Never held anything like this before. Eugene was innocent. He wasn't just shy; he was withdrawn. He didn't know, he couldn’t admit to himself what he wanted. But Sanderson had coaxed him, made him feel safe, and Hoot had opened up his arms and offered more safety and Eugene had taken it.
Once he got going, the kid was voracious. He loved to be touched. Hoot touched him, every part of him he could reach. He loved to be licked. Hoot licked him. He licked his cheek and his neck and his chest and under his arms and inside his elbows and down to his down-covered belly. He moved back up and kissed him on the mouth and the kids' tongue was soft and electric. And then Hoot settled back on the bed and the kid lay back on Hoot's chest, with Hoot's arms around him, and Sanderson was crouched between their outstretched legs and he was sucking a cock that was as beautiful as the rest of Eugene, uncut with a dark head and veiny skin and from what Hoot could tell it tasted great, because Sanderson was savoring that cock, damn it.
Two slender arms reached up and fingers twined in Hoot's hair. It was incredible just how happy Hoot was that he hadn't cut it recently. It gave those fingers something to hold on to, and he wanted them holding him, pulling his hair. His cock was still stuffed in his jeans, but if it weren't it would be jammed against the Eugene's forbidden ass, which was a great ass, even if Hoot hadn't actually touched it. Yet. Hoot buried his face in the thick black hair and rubbed back and forth.
The Cajun medic moaned something, and Hoot wished he knew how to speak French. He was pretty sure it was French. High school French probably would have been useless, though. Hoot didn't know what half the words the kid was saying were. And then Eugene tried to open his legs, but his pants were still on halfway up his thighs, and Sanderson had him right down his throat, with his lips brushing against dark soft pubic hair and there wasn't anything about this kid that wasn't soft, was there? Except for the hard cock, and the way his fingers tugged Hoot's hair. Hard enough to make Hoot harder.
Sanderson felt greedy when he swallowed Eugene's come. He'd tasted it before, and Hoot hadn't, and that was unfair to Hoot, but it was more than fair to Sanderson, wasn't it? He held his lips around the still-stiff flesh and spread his hands over Eugene's smooth belly. He loved the way it quivered right after the orgasm. Everything about Eugene was delicious.
Hoot groaned. Poor guy. He had all this tender, succulent flesh on top of him, but he was still half-dressed. Hoot had trouble with that sort of thing. He needed more contact. He'd taken his shirt off, so at least he had bare back against his bare chest, but he was probably able to feel Eugene's heart beating through that delicate-looking ribcage, which looked even more delicate with Hoot's huge hands spread over it, and that would make Hoot want things Eugene wasn't able to give. Sanderson gently moved Eugene to one side. He unbuttoned Hoot.
"Ah, fuck," Hoot mumbled. Eugene had twisted on the bed so he was still half on top of Hoot, with Hoot's arms around him again, and he was kissing Hoot's face, licking his jaw. Sanderson got the pants off Eugene first, then he got Hoot's fly unzipped and looked up again. Eugene was kissing Hoot, and those two jaws, all that dark stubble, and tongues… Sanderson could see the tongues going back and forth. Hoot's cock popped out and Sanderson licked it from root to tip, still watching them kiss. Beautiful.
"No!" Eugene exclaimed, and he came down the bed so fast his forehead bumped into Sanderson's. "You can't do that alone," he said to Sanderson, and he smiled, and looked angelic as he kissed the tip of Hoot's cock.
Eugene stroked Sanderson's hair and the two of them bent to Hoot's cock. Sanderson experimented, and discovered that if he licked to the left while Eugene licked to the right, Hoot begged for more. And when he licked all around the head while Eugene licked around the shaft and balls, simultaneously, Hoot's begging became incoherent. And when he and Eugene kissed each other around the head of Hoot's cock, Hoot's thighs began to shake.
Sanderson leaned back and let Eugene do the cocksucking for a while. He'd never seen Eugene with a cock in his mouth before, not from this angle. God, he was beautiful. Eugene licked around the head and smiled at him again.
"He is very fit, as you promised," Eugene whispered.
"He knows how to use it, too, if you're interested," Sanderson offered. Hoot was big, but he wasn't as big as Sanderson, so if Eugene really was interested in breaking barriers…
Eugene looked away. "I don't know about that. I am not sure. If it's possible…" He wriggled his crotch against Sanderson's leg.
God, YES. "Me," Sanderson said. "You inside me! That would be okay." Okay, nothing – that would be great!
Eugene looked surprised. "Really? I mean, you are… you're bigger than me."
"That's what makes it so perfect. It'll be easier for you."
Hoot's cock bobbed between them impatiently.
"But I thought, the bigger man… the more powerful man…"
Oh, Jesus. Who the fuck had put that idea into his head? Sanderson would kill him, except that he knew it wasn't one him; it was this whole fucking society.
First they make you feel shitty if you don't fit in, then they tell you not to like other men, that you're bad if you fuck other men, then they tell you that even though you're some kind of pervert for liking other men, you still have to follow the same shitty rules they've set up for heterosexuals, and that the bigger more "manly" guy has to "be the man", and the smaller, more delicate, fucking angelic more beautiful man has to be on the bottom, no matter what. How fucked up is that?
Fucking hell. All this time Eugene had been denying himself one of life's greatest pleasures because he was attracted to big, macho guys like Sanderson and Hoot, and he thought they had to fuck him, and he was afraid they would tear him to pieces.
Some of them would.
Eugene was right to protect himself.
But he didn't have to. Not in this room. Not in the company of these two particular big, macho guys. They would protect him. But not he way he thought he needed to be protected.
"Eugene, you are going to fuck me."
"I am?" Eugene looked mortified.
"You're going to fuck me, and I can't wait, because I am going to love the feel of your cock in my ass."
"You are?" Eugene looked stunned.
"Ah, fuck, yes. I'm gonna watch," Hoot added.
"You what?" Eugene looked terrified.
"Unless… unless you'd rather I… unless you'd let me…"
Eugene had not imagined this. Not in all his several years of furtive fooling around with men.
His cock was hard, and he had a condom on it, and he was pushing it against a hot, wet, thoroughly prepared asshole, and the asshole belonged to the biggest, most macho guy he'd ever dared to fool around with, and he was being urged on, even guided, by a guy who was even bigger, someone he would never had had the guts to approach.
It was Jefferson who had approached Eugene. And no actual sex had happened for the first year they knew each other. Jefferson was the only person who had taken the time to get to know Eugene before making a move on him. And his first move had been so achingly tentative, Eugene had acquiesced immediately. Jefferson probably thought Eugene was some kind of slut, but Eugene didn't care.
Hoot's fingers slid along his latex and lube-coated shaft. "Nice and wet. That's it. You've got one hell of a cock, kid." Hoot's hand was on Eugene's lower back, pressing him forward, and Hoot's fingers kept Eugene's cock steady as it pushed inside.
Eugene gritted his teeth.
"Relax," Hoot whispered in his ear. "Relax, and he'll open up for you, but he can't do it alone. You have to give him just a bit more of a push. Just get in past the ring and it'll be easy. A little more. You'll slide right into that asshole"
Sanderson was on his hands and knees. That made it easier for Hoot to watch, and for Hoot to touch Eugene all over. His hand trailed down to Eugene's behind.
"You know you've got a beautiful ass," Hoot cooed in his ear.
"You fuck," Sanderson groaned. "Keep your hands off that ass. That's my ass."
"Nonsense," Hoot said. He grinned at Eugene. "You've got his cock. I can touch this beautiful ass. Nice shape," he said, and licked his lips. "Small. Neat. I like it. My hand just about covers one side."
Eugene lost control of his hips. They snapped and he sank deep inside Sanderson. He felt detached, like it was someone else doing it, because it was so, so very intense. He couldn't keep track of everything. He didn't have the vocabulary.
"That's it, deep inside. He likes a good, hard fuck."
The words were too much. Cock and asshole and fuck. Things he never said. He heard them all the time, mostly from injured soldiers, but they weren't talking about cocks and assholes and fucking – they were talking about broken bones and wounds and pain. This wasn't pain. This was a pleasure so pure he ached.
Hoot's fingers trailed to the middle of his behind.
"I don't know," Eugene gasped.
Hoot leaned in very close. He massaged Eugene's behind, thumb teasing him in the crease. It felt good there. "It won't hurt. I would never hurt you. I only want to make you feel good. You just say, 'Halt!' and I'll stop. I'm only going to touch you on the outside, just so you can feel how good it is. I just came, so I'm good. We can take our time."
It was true. Hoot had already come. He'd come with Eugene and Sanderson's mouths on him, and they'd licked each other and him and it had been another intense first, but not as intense as this.
"I'll keep my cock away, and I'll even keep my fingers out of you. Just let me touch on the outside."
Eugene nodded. What harm could it do to be touched on the outside?
Hoot arranged Eugene's hands on Jefferson's behind, near the top, to the sides, almost holding his hips. "He likes it when you hold him there. Hold on tight. Use your hands to move him. Pull him back onto your cock, that's it."
Eugene followed instructions in a daze. Hoot's fingers pushed down along the crease of his behind but he wasn't scared. Good and Honorable. A fingertip brushed over his opening. He clenched his cheeks and Hoot's breath wafted over his shoulder.
"Oh, just touching is not going to be enough," Hoot said. He gently pushed Eugene down so he was bent over Sanderson's back. "Reach around, grab his dick. You're going to need something to hold on to…"
Eugene did as he was told and was happy for it, because Hoot's tongue trailed down his spine. Dieu, what was he doing? Sanderson surged beneath him, and he had to concentrate to stay inside him.
"Jesus, Hoot, are you rimming him? Are you fucking rimming him?" Sanderson snarled.
"He's licking me," Eugene said, surprising himself. He rarely talked during sex, except to say 'no', and here he was with his chose…his cock… inside another man, and he was talking. "He's licking my lower back."
"Best is yet to come," Hoot murmured against Eugene's left buttock. He put his hands between Eugene's legs and spread them apart slowly.
Virgin ass, Hoot thought. Hope he's clean.
Of course, he would be clean. He was a medic, he knew about anatomy and diseases, he had this crazy idea that if he was going to do anal sex he would have to get fucked. He'd probably taken a shower, given himself an enema, and then taken another shower just to make sure.
Hoot nuzzled the lightly furred crack. God, this kid's hair was soft everywhere. And his skin, like silk. He breathed out, warm air to tease the tight little hole. The kid had jumped when Hoot touched it. Tight little hole. Virgin little hole. Hoot was having way too much fun. He snaked out his tongue and touched the tip of it to the close little wrinkles. The kid jumped again and Sanderson groaned loud - the noise Sanderson always made when Hoot had a finger in his asshole and curled it on purpose to stroke over his prostate - so Eugene must have… Sanderson groaned again, even louder. Hoot took a moment to calculate the trajectory – good aim for a first-timer!
Hoot pushed the legs apart just a bit more. That brought the kid too low to fuck Sanderson properly, so Hoot reached through his legs and nudged Sanderson's inner thighs. Sanderson spread. He always did.
Hoot stuck out his tongue.
Sanderson tightened his grip on the headboard. Jesus, fuck, he hadn't thought Eugene's cock was that big. Or maybe it was the angle. Eugene's mouth was on his shoulder, and he was panting hard. Hoot had to be…
Eugene let out a torrent of French. Absolutely filthy French, if Sanderson remembered correctly from that brief stint he'd done with the GIGN. Hoot had found his target.
Eugene started pumping into Sanderson, thrusting hard. Sanderson could feel Hoot's hand on Eugene's hip, between Eugene's hip and Sanderson's ass, holding, guiding, but also giving Hoot the information he needed to match his head movements with Eugene's hip thrusts. No one would keep his mouth on target like Hoot. No matter how much you bucked and jerked around, he rode your ass with his face, determined not to lose contact. It was a gift, and one that Sanderson was careful not to demand the enjoyment of too often, because that was the sort of thing that would spoil a guy.
Sanderson got one hand to disengage from the headboard and reached back to Eugene's thigh. He tugged. Hoot took the hint and pushed both of Eugene's legs forward, up, off the bed so Sanderson was taking all of Eugene's weight. The fucking wouldn't be so intense, but that was okay because it opened up Eugene's asshole to Hoot, and that was what he wanted. He wanted Eugene to understand that this was a good thing: Eugene riding his back like a monkey and Hoot lapping away the way Hoot liked to lap away.
"Jefferson," Eugene gasped. His teeth grazed Sanderson's shoulder.
"It's okay, Eugene, you just ride it out," Sanderson grunted.
Eugene writhed on Sanderson's back, thighs tightening against Sanderson's sides. Poor Eugene. His first fuck. His first time with his cock in an ass and his first time with a tongue in his ass. Sanderson was surprised he was still conscious. Eugene figured out how to thrust even though he had no leverage, so he was fucking and Hoot was making slurping sounds, louder than if he was eating pussy. Eugene's hands had long ago left Sanderson's cock. They were grasping his shoulders and his hair and his back and his neck, clutching, flailing. Oh, fuck. It was too much.
There was a tongue on his… asshole.
No. It was in. It was in his asshole.
Eugene thrust one more time inside Jefferson and let go. He was coming and coming and coming and nothing could stop it. He didn't want it to stop either. He wanted this forever. But that was not fair to Jefferson. Or to Hoot. Was it? Hoot seemed to enjoy what he was doing. He had made his tongue flat again and was lapping like a dog, stubble scraping at tender skin that had barely ever been touched, let alone licked and scraped with stubble. Eugene went limp and Hoot's massive hands were on his hips, pulling him out of Jefferson, off Jefferson, putting him down on the bed tenderly. A kiss to his hip. A gentle stroke of a huge hand down his leg.
"Shhh."
Was Eugene making a noise?
"Let me take care of this," Hoot whispered, and he snatched a condom from beside the bed and rolled it over his huge… cock. "God, you're amazing, kid," Hoot said. He leaned over, close to Eugene's face, but then he thought better of it. He pulled a blanket up around Eugene and told him to sit tight, and then he climbed on top of Jefferson.
Eugene watched. He watched Hoot fuck Jefferson so hard he was afraid Jefferson would break. But it wasn't enough for Jefferson to come. Jefferson heaved Hoot off his back and pushed him down on the bed and spread himself over Hoot's broad back.
"A little overstimulated, Jefferson?" Hoot asked, and he was teasing. He was teasing in the middle of sex. Was there anything these men did not do?
Jefferson was fumbling beneath himself, between himself and Hoot. Eugene couldn’t see what he was doing, but he couldn't have been… fucking Hoot. There was no preparation. There were none of the fingers he had used on Jefferson while Hoot guided him told him how to twist them and spread the lube and stretch out Jefferson's… asshole.
But there was a condom. Eugene heard the distinctive tear of the package. And there was something that made Hoot make a sound that sounded like "oof". And then Jefferson was moving on top of Hoot in a way that looked very much like fucking.
But still…
"I need…" Jefferson growled. He shifted over until he was looming over Eugene. "Mmmm," he said. And his mouth, tasting bitter like Eugene and Hoot mixed together, opened over Eugene's mouth. Eugene put his arms around Jefferson and rocked with the motion of Jefferson's body.
Next thing he knew, the blanket was pulled back down and he was being cleaned with a warm, wet cloth. He looked up to see Hoot concentrating, like he was memorizing everything he saw and felt while he cleaned around Eugene's exhausted… cock. Eugene grabbed his wrist. "What does 'Hoot' mean?" he asked.
Hoot looked in his eyes. "Nothing. It's from a famous cowboy. It's just a nickname. didn't anyone ever call you Gene?"
"Never," Eugene said earnestly.
"And you always call Jeff by his full name."
Eugene nodded. Jeff sounded… incomplete.
Hoot leaned down real close. Eugene could smell mouthwash. That was considerate. He could hear the shower going, and Hoot's skin was damp. He must have washed himself, and Jefferson was in the shower now. Eugene must have fallen asleep or passed out. He could vaguely remember a hand pulling the condom off and him feeling dizzy. He must have passed out. Just overwhelmed.
Hoot brushed his lips over Eugene's ear. "It's Norman," Hoot whispered, "my name."
Eugene nodded.
"No one ever uses it. But if you want to…"
Eugene turned his head and the bright flash of the mint mouthwash couldn't quite erase the memory of where that tongue had been, but Eugene didn't care. He felt his limbs spreading across the bed, his body opening up to take Norman closer to him.
Jefferson came in wearing a damp towel. "Couldn't wait to start round two, huh?"
Eugene waved his hand at Jefferson but couldn’t respond in any other way because Norman was devouring his mouth. He was very good with his mouth. He did like to use it. A lot.
"Hey, let him breathe."
Norman raised his head. "Aw, Jefferson. Leave us alone for a sec. Gene and I are just getting to know each other a little better."
It was bright and Hoot's head hurt slightly. It was his neck that hurt. He wasn't sure how they'd got into that position, but it had been too much fun to stop, no matter how convoluted it was, and now his neck was sore. He licked his lips. But damn, the kid had tasted great. He didn't really mind a little soreness in exchange for being able to drink that down. At the same time Sanderson was drinking him. And the kid was drinking Sanderson. Fucking daisy chain. Excellent way to spend the early hours of the morning.
Day. Now it was day. A work day. Fuck. what were they thinking, doing all that on fucking on a work night?
Hoot jumped out of bed. He pulled on his jeans, stopped, decided it was a bad idea to go commando in denim today. His cock was actually a bit tender. He grabbed some boxers, hoping they were his, and a pair of BDU trousers, and a t-shirt. That wasn't his shirt. It was way too small. It was… aw, fuck, it was Eugene's shirt. Hoot couldn't fit into that! He struggled out of it, hoping he didn't rip it anywhere. He found one of his own shirts and a pair of socks and went downstairs.
Sanderson was standing I the doorway to the outer office. He put up his hand when he heard Hoot coming down the stairs. Hoot crept to the doorway and peered over Sanderson's shoulder.
Oh, fuck. Eugene was sitting on the couch in front of the window, and right next to him was Grimes.
Eugene was wearing his button-up shirt, but no t-shirt under it, and that vee of smooth chest was mouth-wateringly beautiful. The opening of Grimes' shirt showed wiry ginger hair. Oh, god. Grimes was looking particularly well-rested, hair soft and red in the sunlight. Eugene looked exhausted but happy, with his hair standing up in all directions, so thick it looked sculpted. The contrast between them was as artistic as it was sexual in nature, and it made Hoot's eyes hurt.
The way Sanderson was standing, he could see them, but they couldn't see him, and Hoot could see them too, but not clearly enough. Sanderson was not budging.
"All that pretty," Sanderson breathed out, so quiet Hoot could barely hear him.
Hoot smirked. He thought he was the one who was supposed to like the pretty. What the hell - everyone liked the pretty. Except Grimes and Eugene, apparently.
Hoot went out on the porch for a smoke. He inhaled deeply. The smoke tasted wrong. He might have to quit. For his health. To make sure he would always be able to keep up.
Low voices wafted out the window. Hoot sidled closer to hear what he could hear. They were probably doing small talk, all courteous and proper. He could picture the two of them dressed in crisp white suits, drinking tea and eating sandwiches with the crust cut off and talking about cricket or croquet or something, even though he knew neither of them knew the slightest thing about cricket or croquet. It was just the way they held the cups. All proper, like they were so proper.
"…not sure why…" Hoot heard. It was Grimes' voice. "… always wanting to talk about the relationship these days. I don't see why we have to talk about it so much…"
"…good to know where you stand…"
"I know where I stand. Or kneel…" there was a laugh. Like a giggle. Fucking coquettish. Oh, god. Hoot was going to die. "…rather do it than talk about it…"
"During the, um, while you do it?" Eugene asked delicately.
"Oh, no. Not about the relationship then. But talking during… always done that…filthy but that's what he likes… me too, of course…"
The sound of Hoot's own ragged breath was drowning out the voices. He calmed himself.
"…tell you what to do?"
"… nothing he doesn't know I already want… orders, and following orders… "
"… big… size but also… what I like the most is…"
Did Eugene just say "manliness"??? Hoot held his breath.
"… when did you know?"
"I didn't know till a few years ago. I never looked at another soldier that way. I have to treat them when they're injured. I can't get distracted. But men, big men, you know. Masculine. I just can't help how they make me feel. But it's not the way you feel. I don't want to be…"
Damn. Hoot had to take a breath.
"… it's only the one man for me."
"Really? Just the two of you? And you're… satisfied?"
"Totally."
Sanderson backed away from the door. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked so comfortable talking together like that, he didn't want to disturb them.
The sunlight gave them auras like goddamn angels, and he could imagine they were both pretending like they didn't do the things they liked to do. Innocent fucking angels.
Sanderson knew they weren't angels. He knew what had happened upstairs. He knew, or liked to think he knew, what had happened in Grimes' bed the night before, and every night McKnight was home.
Appearances can be deceiving. And Sanderson wouldn't have it any other way.
Eugene sipped his coffee and smiled. What a night. And now this delightful man had offered him coffee and biscuits and they were talking in a way he'd never really talked to anyone before in his life. Maybe it was something about the D-Tech office that brought people out of their shells.
John topped up his coffee and sat down. Such a nice man, Eugene thought, though not his type. Not nearly macho enough. Or big enough. But then, from what John had said about his Colonel, he figured John would have no interest in someone of Eugene's type. Maybe that was what made it so easy to talk about these things he'd never talked about before.
Or maybe he just needed to talk because last night had been so…
He was almost sorry he was shipping out. Almost. Not quite. He was going overseas, on a friendly mission and medical aid was a crucial part of the undertaking. His hands were needed to heal, to build trust, to bridge gaps, to make peace. He flexed his fingers around the coffee cup.
He would be back soon enough.
But maybe, while he was gone, where he was going, he might run into a big, strong, muscular, man who might want to… who liked getting fucked in the ass.
You never knew.
Back to Soldier Porn, or on to more Long Haul fic in The Dinner Party
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