|
Title: The Pretty
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Characters: Black Hawk Down, Hoot Blackburn and Eversmann
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Has absolutely nothing to do with the real life men the book and movie were based on. Nada. Nothing. All fake. Has nothing to do with what happened in the movie. Totally, utterly and completely made up stuff.
(However, a careful viewing of the film will reveal numerous ‘knowing looks’ between characters, which were enough to inspire.)
Summary: Hoot engages in psychological warfare. He’s not the only one. Everybody wins.
The Pretty
Everyone was at the entrance to the hangar, everyone who could walk or wheel or limp or crawl that far. Except for Hoot.
They were waiting for Mike Durant’s return. They were lining up to welcome him back. Hoot didn’t need to be there. He’d seen Mike the night before.
Silent as a breeze, he’d slipped into the house where Mike was being kept. He wasn’t able to bring Mike back with him. Mike’s injuries were too severe for Hoot to safely carry him home. Besides, the negotiations were almost complete. If he’d bypassed the official plan, there would have been repercussions. So he’d slipped in, tended Mike’s wounds, given him some painkillers, talked to him in gentle whispers. Slipped back out into the night. No one else knew he’d been there. Mike probably even doubted it. The U.S. Army sure as hell didn’t know he’d been there. Officially.
Hoot was confident Durant would be returned without incident. Plus, he’d learned a lot by the time he actually went to see him. If anything screwed up, if anything happened between the house where Mike was being kept and the hangar where Mike was supposed to be delivered to, Hoot knew who all his captors were. And where most of them lived. He would take care of things.
For the moment, he found himself at the foot of Blackburn’s bed, looking down at a lean, hairless torso covered in a light sheen of sweat. Everything here was covered in sweat, unless it was drowning in sweat.
The kid was going to be okay, eventually. They had him in a collar to keep him as immobile as possible, even though, by some miracle, his spine wasn’t broken. It was best if he stayed still. It would be a long time before he was back to normal. Maybe he would never be a hundred percent.
But he still looked good.
God help him, Hoot thought as he looked down at that smooth young skin stretched over lean, well-conditioned muscle, he felt a tug in his groin. He looked at that face, pale and fine-featured, and he understood why Eversmann had done it.
Hell, he wanted to do it.
He sat on a stool and put a hand on the flat belly. Blackburn’s eyes opened.
Was that allowed? Wasn’t it against regulations for a Ranger to have such fucking pretty eyes?
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Hoot replied. His tongue felt thick.
“Durant back yet?”
“Soon.”
Hoot flexed his fingers. With Blackburn’s navel centered under his palm, Hoot’s fingertips reached the slight curve of his waist. He could see Blackburn’s dick, under the sheet, stirring just from that. Young cock, he thought. Anything’ll make it hard.
He remembered himself at eighteen years of age, in basic training. He did twice as much as everyone else. The brass thought he had ambitions; he was only trying to beat down the perpetual erection. He trained hard, ate everything in sight, and put on thirty pounds of muscle before the army had time to ship him out to his first posting.
It didn’t make him any less horny, but sometimes he was so tired he could fall asleep without even bothering to take care of his hard on.
Some of the Rangers had no shame. They lacked that sense of propriety Hoot had at their age, when he would go to great pains to avoid jacking off when anyone else was around. Of course, in this situation, privacy was a scarce commodity. But these guys had no sense of decency. The talked about it. They bragged about it. They were obsessed.
Hoot didn’t like to think he was some kind of prude, but he didn’t like the idea of someone knowing he was jacking off. And he didn’t like knowing about other people doing it either, alone or with someone else.
That’s why it bothered him so much, what he’d heard about Blackburn and Eversmann. That’s why he was here, beside Blackburn’s bed, looking at the thin curtain that had been strung up around the area. The longer-term patients had been given what were laughably called ‘more private quarters’. Hoot sat quietly with his hand on Blackburn’s lean belly, hand positioned with care to avoid the bruising on his ribs.
At the very back of his mind, lurking, was the real reason behind all this. A very primal urge: to stake a claim. He didn’t ordinarily go in for overt declarations, but he’d been pushed by the rumours. Eyewitness accounts, if you were to believe what some people said. He’d asked Eversmann about it point blank.
Blackburn made a helpless gurgle when Hoot’s fingers crept over his belly. Hoot was diligent. He didn’t rest the weight of his hand on the tender skin, kept his touch light but firm enough to make Blackburn’s dick get all the way hard, twist to one side, creep up that impossibly silky belly, smooth like a girl’s except for the line of hair, baby soft but too dark and long to be all that new. The head peeked out from under the edge of the sheet, and Hoot knew before touching it that it would be powdery soft, skin stretched taut, and he could smell the first drop of musky precome before it seeped out.
Why? he’d asked Eversmann. Why did he have to kiss him?
When Blackburn’s lips parted, Hoot thought he knew. Shaped with just the right curve, they were eminently kissable.
Eversmann said he’d had to keep him quiet, that he’d made a noise.
“What kind of noise?”
“The obvious kind.”
Hoot slid his other hand up to cover Blackburn’s mouth at the same time he curled his fingers around the hot, smooth shaft. Blackburn’s tongue flicked out, slithering between two fingers. Blackburn’s lips worked the skin of Hoot’s hand and made his cock ache. It was impossible not to think about what those lips and that tongue would feel like in other places.
He stroked up and down, jacking the kid off dry, loving the glide of skin and the beat of Blackburn’s pulse under his fingers. Fuck it, he thought, and bent down to kiss him.
Much better, he discovered. The kid could kiss like nothing Hoot had ever felt. Passionate and sensual and all those things that kissing is supposed to be but you never have time to do, at least not when you’re surreptitiously jacking off another soldier.
He added a twist, plus enough additional speed and pressure to make Blackburn gasp. There was the noise Eversmann had been talking about. It was wanton. Extremely obvious. Hoot kissed him harder to keep him quiet and kept up the pace.
It didn’t take long for the kid to let go. He moaned around Hoot’s tongue and shivered all over as he pumped out a decent-sized load. Hoot kept kissing him until the dick went limp in his hand. Then he sat up and grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess.
Blackburn took a huge breath. He looked up at Hoot, wide-eyed.
Hoot didn’t understand why, but he got this tender feeling in his chest. He ran his clean hand over Blackburn’s stubbly hair.
“You see,” he whispered. “Sometimes a hand job is just a hand job. It doesn’t mean he loves you.”
“I know,” Blackburn whispered back. His voice was small.
“You got off with me the same as with him.”
Blackburn just blinked.
“You shouldn’t mistake it for something it isn’t.” Hoot leaned down to kiss Blackburn’s forehead. “You’re so beautiful, you’re probably used to people falling in love with you all the time. But that doesn’t mean everyone falls in love with you.”
Blackburn choked a bit.
“Some,” Hoot whispered, “but not everyone.”
“Right.”
Hoot kissed his cheek.
“You better go,” Blackburn said. “Someone’ll come.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, man. I’m cool.”
Hoot got up. He hated to leave. When he got to the end of the bed, Blackburn spoke again.
“Thanks,” he said.
Hoot felt terrible. He left the medical tent just as people started trickling back. Mike was back. They would ship him home first, as soon as he was stable. The rest would follow. They were all pulling out. The whole task force.
Hoot would be among the last to go. Everyone had officially stood down. But Hoot and a few others were still making nightly forays. Even when he official work was over, there was always something else for Delta to do.
He took the time to walk the perimeter of the base. The sun was starting to sink in the sky. Hoot skirted the hangar, and headed for a spot between two supply shacks, mercifully deserted. He was careful to watch where he walked and to check the siding before he leaned against it. A spot this isolated on a post this crowded never stayed secret for long. In ones or twos, he was sure, most of the men had discovered it and most had left a little of themselves behind. You could smell the stale jism over the general cloud of fuel and grease and desert dust and powder that hung over the entire complex.
Hoot didn’t come here to jack off. He just wanted to be alone. And it was far enough from the fuel storage that he could light up and be alone. That was all he intended to do. He pulled a pack of slim Turkish cigarettes from a leg pocket, along with the matches that were tucked next to it.
He never carried a lighter. He’d had a buddy back in school who’d carried a Zippo in his breast pocket, until the day he was using a welding torch to cut the frame of a Caddie and somehow… they never figured out exactly how it happened. The coroner called his findings 'inconclusive'. Hoot closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he was remembering this. Except that Pat was the first guy he’d ever jacked off. He was given leave from Fort Bragg to go to the funeral. The widow, a pretty girl with one baby in her arms and another in her belly, didn’t really know Hoot. He’d been in basic when Pat met her. So he couldn’t tell her why he knew how great her loss was.
All this fucking loss was getting to him. He had to pull himself together.
He took a long drag off his cigarette and looked up into Eversmann’s furious eyes.
“What the fuck did you do, Hoot?”
Hoot dropped the butt and ground it out with the toe of his boot. “Nothing you didn’t do." He let the drawl seep out of him, like molasses.
“I was taking pity on a scared kid, trying to make him feel better. I wasn’t doing some kind of psychological warfare.”
“Hey, all’s fair, Eversmann.”
“No, it’s not. He’s a kid, Hoot. He’s eighteen years old. He’s a mess. You scared him half to death with that caveman shit.”
Hoot reached for another smoke. “Just making a point, was all.”
“By half pulling his dick off?”
“Hey, I noticed he came.”
“Like you gave him a choice.”
Hoot flicked a match against his thumbnail and watched the tip flare.
“It’s you he’s gonna fall in love with, you know. Not me,” Eversmann sputtered. “After that… do you want him obsessed with you or something? Why were you so threatened by me giving him a hand job, anyway? It was just a hand job, for chrissake.”
“That’s what I told him.” Hoot let the match burn to within a hair’s breadth of his fingertips before dropping it.
“No shit!”
“You saying my plan backfired, Ranger?”
Eversmann stole a quick glance behind to make sure no one had followed him. He stepped behind the supply shack, a couple of feet from Hoot. “He knows I’m yours now, if that’s what you were aiming for.”
Hoot smiled. “Good. He can keep his pretty eyes to himself.”
Eversmann laughed. “That was cruel, man. You should know that. One lousy hand job from you is nowhere near enough.”
“Oh, no?”
Eversmann took another step toward Hoot. “No. I don’t think there can ever be enough.”
Hoot grinned. Smugly, this time.
“You realize, of course, that as soon as he can walk he’ll come looking for you. You’d better hope he’s stationed far away from you when that happens. I’d hate to have to put the poor kid back in the hospital,” Eversmann warned.
“Who’s pulling the caveman trip now?”
“Hoot…”
“Matt…”
Eversmann leaned forward and nipped at Hoot’s lower lip. He loved never having to stoop down to kiss.
“You kissed him,” he noted. He could tell, even through the cigarette.
“Liked his taste that much, you can remember it?” Hoot. He was such a tease.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Had to keep him quiet.”
“You could have used your hand.”
“You could have, too.” Hoot grabbed Eversmann’s hand and brought it up to his mouth. “Except you couldn’t, could you? Because then you’d be the one making too much noise.” He licked, from wrist to index fingertip, then snaked his tongue down between two fingers.
Eversmann let out a low moan.
“That’s why you kissed him.”
The only answer was a terse nod. And a flexing of fingers under Hoot’s hot tongue.
Hoot took Eversmann’s thumb between his lips and sucked.
“Fuck!”
Hoot swirled his tongue over Eversmann’s palm.
“Hoot, no!” Eversmann could not keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Could I make you come like this?” Fucking tease.
“Keep going and you’ll find out,” Eversmann choked.
Hoot made a low whistle. He dropped the unlit cigarette to the ground and reached between Eversmann’s legs. “Fuck, Matt, you’re so hot.”
Eversmann could only moan and tilt his groin up into Hoot’s hand.
Hoot dropped his hand before Eversmann got too loud for even this secluded spot.
“Hoot, you should have known. It wasn’t anything for you to worry about.”
Hoot tugged Eversmann’s belt open. “But you liked it. You must have liked it. He’s fucking pretty. You like the pretty, don’t you?” He yanked Eversmann’s pants down.
“I like you.”
“But I’m not pretty,” Hoot said, low and dangerous right in his ear. “So you must like it rough, too.”
Eversmann gasped when Hoot’s hand closed over his cock.
“You like it a bit rough, Ranger?”
Eversmann nodded, clutched one hand at Hoot’s collar, the other at his waist. “Maybe,” he panted. “Maybe it’s you who likes the pretty.”
Hoot pulled Eversmann’s cock out into the open air. “Mm, pretty,” he rumbled, and stroked the fat head. “This is the same hand I used to jack off your pretty friend. I bet you could still smell him on me. I bet you could still taste him.”
Eversmann groaned. That’s just what he intended to do, and Hoot knew it. When he came, and it wouldn’t be long if Hoot kept fisting his cock and talking all low and rumbly like that, he planned on licking his come off Hoot’s hand. That is, if Hoot didn’t beat him to it.
It really had been a mercy hand job. Stuck on a base, grounded as it were, nothing to do. He’d volunteered to help out with the wounded. He felt a certain responsibility for the men in his chalk. He’d been massaging Blackburn’s legs, keeping the blood flowing, and the kid… well, Eversmann could understand it. If someone ran their hands all over his legs like that, he’d get hard too. He’d offered. Blackburn had accepted. It really wasn’t a big deal.
He hadn’t counted on word getting around. Hoot got wind of it and approached him when he got back to base that morning. He’d explained, but Hoot… he’d insisted on making his point.
Eversmann really did feel for the kid.
He never thought Hoot would do something like that.
Maybe Hoot did like the pretty.
Did Hoot like the pretty?
It was a strangely arousing thought. It made sense, in a way. And the funny thing was, he didn’t feel threatened at all. He knew exactly how Hoot felt about him, and it didn’t matter how pretty Blackburn was; it wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Eversmann let Hoot push him back, pin him to the wall, spread his legs. He waited until Hoot began to breathe heavily and thrust against his hip, fingers clenching around him. Tight. He rubbed the long, hard ridge of Hoot’s cock with the heel of his hand.
“Next time, I’ll give him a hand job while you kiss him.”
Hoot let out a gruff noise. He fumbled left-handed with his own belt. His cock leapt out of his fatigues and sprang up against Eversmann’s with an audible smack.
Yes, Eversmann thought, gloating. Hoot likes the pretty.
Hoot got both cocks in one hand and jerked them both with enough pressure to make Eversmann clutch at Hoot’s shoulder and whimper. The whimper rose to a whine when Hoot pulled Eversmann’s hand back up to his mouth.
“Or,” Eversmann continued breathlessly, “you can jerk him off and kiss him, while I suck you off.”
Hoot bit Eversmann’s thumb.
“Or maybe… Can you imagine how his mouth would look with my cock in it?” Eversmann braced himself against the wall, anticipating Hoot’s reaction to that suggestion.
Bull’s-eye.
Hoot came first, long and hard, bathing Eversmann’s cock with hot cream. His hand slipped and slid over the head, pushing Eversmann over the edge soon after.
There was a brief struggle before they settled on both of them licking Hoot’s hand clean. Eversmann could pick out the flavour of his own come beside that of Hoot, but underneath it he could taste something new. Something sharp and new. It had to be Blackburn.
Hoot’s chest heaved against his. “Shit, Matt, someday you’re gonna do me in.”
Eversmann grinned. He knew he didn’t have to worry. Hoot was indestructible.
In the medical tent, at lights out, Blackburn lay back in his hospital bed with a pretty smile playing around his pretty lips.
He knew Hoot would be back.
And he was pretty sure that next time, he would bring Eversmann with him.
End
For Matt and Hoot’s first encounter, consult Lucky. For Matt and Hoot’s first encounter with Blackburn, go to Pretty Lucky.
Back to: Soldier Porn
|
|
