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Gaz finally snapped on a rainy Thursday afternoon. Several days back from manoeuvres in the Malaysian jungle, with half the men nursing boot rot and the other half sweat rash, some bright spark thought it would be a good idea to roll out the mats and practice close contact sparring.
Ghost took it upon himself to play drill instructor, since no one would roll with him anyway. Well, apart from Soap, but he took any chance he could to get closer to the lieutenant. A little pat on the back, his head leaning against his arm as he showed him something on his phone, a playful slap on the arse. If half the unit hadn’t been invited to their wedding they would have guessed their involvement by now.
Gaz watched, like he always did. He wondered what Price would do if he clapped his hand over his mouth while he was talking like Soap was doing. Probably chew him out and then transfer him all the way to the SBS. He wondered why no one ever chose him.
‘Gaz?’ Sergeant Burns smacked his shoulder, tracking his eye-line. Gaz blinked. ‘You angling for a threesome or summit?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re braver than I am, I wouldn’t go near that spooky fuck if you paid me.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Gaz, grinning. ‘Fraid he’ll chew you up and spit you out?’
‘Oh aye,’ said Burns. ‘And he’d start with my dick.’
‘I see you talking but I don’t see you rolling,’ came a low voice in his ear.
Gaz jumped. But it wasn’t Ghost. No he was still on the other side of the room smashing Soap into the mats. It was Price, in very short shorts and a long sleeved t-shirt. Gaz tried not to look at acres of muscular, hairy thigh and failed.
‘Good of you to join us Captain,’ he said, grinning. ‘Don’t often see you mingling with the rabble.’
‘Shut up and get on the mat,’ said Price but he was grinning back. He nodded to Burns. ‘I’ll take this reprobate. You go pound Captain Walker, I hear he’s gagging for it.’
Burns nodded, making his way over.
‘Finished your paperwork?’ Gaz inquired as they circled around each other.
‘I’m never fucking finished with the paperwork,’ muttered Price. ‘Can’t see half the print either.’
‘You might need glasses, sir,’ said Gaz.
He lunged with a forward kick, leg snapping. Price grabbed his foot and pulled him off balance, but Gaz managed to recover and dance away.
‘Oh think you’re fucking clever, sergeant?’
‘Oh absolutely, sir,’ replied Gaz, slowly circling.
Price dropped his weight and tackled him, bodily throwing him down and smothering him with superior weight. He aimed an elbow, which Kyle blocked, before he wrapped his legs around him, locking his ankles. Price stood up, dragging him with him like a barnacle.
‘Fuck you’re heavy,’ he grunted.
‘Thanks for noticing,’ said Gaz breathlessly. He let go, dropped to one knee and lunged.
Price lost balance and fell, Gaz on top of him. He could feel the heat of his body through the cotton of his shorts and had a sudden flashback to that night, barely a year ago. The one he didn’t let himself think about. The one Price hadn’t mentioned since.
Pain exploded through his cheekbone as Price punched him, before the captain froze.
‘Shit. Gaz. I thought you were gonna block it!’ Price sat up, grabbing for his face. ‘Are you alright?’
His thumb brushed over his mouth, and Gaz bit down hard. Price hissed. He hit him again and then when he didn’t let go, again, a hard cuff around the head. Gaz finally opened his mouth. He rocked back and jumped back to his feet, Price doing the same.
The energy had changed. The circle tighter, steps slower. Gaz glowered at him, Price staring steadily back.
‘Oh it’s like that is it, sunshine?’ he said.
Gaz barely had time to nod before he attacked, a high kick that smacked across his ribs and forced the air from his lungs. He threw a wild punch that was blocked easily, and then another. Jab, cross, jab. They swung at each other like two boxers, bare feet leaving behind sweaty prints on the mat.
Price managed to hook one of his arms under his armpit and yanked him close. He headbutt him, and they went down together in a tangle of limbs. Price kept hold of his arm and pulled.
‘Fucking tap,’ he growled.
‘No,’ Gaz growled back. He wrenched his arm free.
Price grabbed his legs before he could get up and Gaz wrapped his thighs around his throat. Price wheezed, hands scrabbling.
‘That’s enough,’ came a voice from above them. ‘Gaz. Drop ‘im.’
Gaz looked up and saw a skull faced mask through his red haze. He loosened his grip and Price took a great stuttering breath. Ghost turned away. Still between his legs Price turned around. His face was scarlet. He slapped Gaz’s thigh, and then left his hand there, fingers digging into the muscle.
‘Not bad, Sergeant,’ he said, and winked.
The wink carried him through the rest of the day. He thought of Price, of his touch on his skin, of his warm breath on the back of his neck, as he sat through a mind numbing mission debriefing, as he ate a pot noodle in the shared kitchen, and as he ran on the treadmill in the gym. He fancied he exhaled his name with every thud of his steps. Price Price Price.
Finally, his time was his own and he retreated to his room on base. He lay full length on his narrow bed, still in gym sticky clothes, and let himself think of that one singular night. The night he kept buried below a hump of dark earth, the night he sometimes had flashbacks to in those trance-like moments between sleep and wakefulness.
The night in Chicago.
They were in a shitty bar, across the road from a shitty motel, several miles off the highway, several more from the glittering city. No one was celebrating a job well done. Ghost and Soap were unusually tense, glaring at each other from across the sticky bar, near agony in Johnny’s blue marble eyes. Laswell had made her excuses and left early, fielding three different phone calls, and Price, John, well. He was fielding a phone call of his own. Gaz sat nursing a beer and trying not to listen to his muttered argument but still catching the odd stray sentence.
‘Come on now you know that’s not fair.’
‘I can’t tell you when I’ll be back. You know I can’t.’
Gaz dared to turn on his barstool and peek at him. Price cradled his phone in his hand, muffling his voice behind his hand. He glanced up and their eyes met. He looked weary. Price slid off the stool and banged out the double doors.
Gaz stared back at his beer bottle, running a finger around the rim and making it sing. He shouldn’t go after him. It wasn’t any of his business and yet-
A second later he found he was pushing open the doors and heading out into the night. The darkness wrapped around him like velvet. For a second he couldn’t find Price and then spied him, staring blankly into an overgrown bush on the other side of the carpark, hands dug into his pockets. He walked past a truck and lingered an arm’s length away. Now he was here he had no idea what to say.
‘Gaz,’ said Price, seeing his shadow on the cracked concrete. Of course it was him. It was always him.
‘Sir,’ said Gaz, mouth dry despite the three beers. ‘I know it’s nothing to do with me but- you alright?’
Price laughed, a hollow sound. Gaz could smell the whiskey on his breath.
‘Just my wife. Ex wife. Whatever.’ He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. ‘She thinks if I leave this-‘ he absently waved a hand at the bush, the car park, and even at Gaz. ‘She thinks it’ll magically fix everything.’ He shook his head. ‘I told her-‘ Price rubbed at his mouth, fingers combing through his overgrown beard. ‘That ship sailed a long time ago.’
At the word ex Gaz’s heart gave a little leap. Was he an arsehole? He’d told himself several months ago that serving Price in some capacity, as his subordinate, as his sergeant, was enough for his aching heart. But it wasn’t. It never would be. Fuck. He wished he’d had something stronger than beer.
‘Sorry to hear that, boss,’ he ventured, tacking the boss on the end like an offering. He was still his dog. His sergeant. His shadow.
When he looked back up Price had stopped looking at the shrub, and was staring at him instead.
‘You’re always here aren’t you,’ he said. ‘Wherever I turn there you are, ready to follow orders.’
Wasn’t that what he was made for?
‘Do you want me to go?’ said Gaz, adjusting his cap. ‘I can-‘
‘No,’ said Price, quickly, moving to block his path. ‘Fucking hell Kyle. I don’t-‘ he shook his head over and over like he was trying to shake loose something. ‘I’m gonna turn in, alright?’ he patted his arm and sloped away from him, sliding in and out of patterns of darkness as he headed to the road.
Gaz stood there, steps unsure on the concrete. What had just happened? Nothing. He was just listening. He was good at that. Good guy Garrick. Good listener. Good boy. Then, staring across the road, he caught sight of Price again, illuminated in dull orange light as he headed into his room.
Five minutes later he was knocking on the door. Price wrenched it open. He had already undressed, and there was a towel around his waist. Gaz’s carefully prepared speech, something about lending an ear, a shoulder to cry on (when did Price ever cry?) fell out his brain.
‘I-‘ he began before Price grabbed him by his track top and yanked him inside.
‘You saved my fucking arse on that mission far too many times,’ said Price. ‘Fucking hell.’
It was the closest to a thank you as he was likely to get.
‘Just doing my job, Captain,’ said Gaz, gazing up at him.
‘Fuck off before I do something I regret,’ said Price, sounding gruff, but his hand still had a hard grip on him.
‘Like what?’ said Gaz, cocking his head to one side, casual even as his belly squirmed. Was this going to happen? Really? He was too scared to move. Scared he’d ruin the moment.
Price seemed uncertain too, his grip easing. He was shaking his head again.
‘I can’t-‘ he said, the words accompanied by a sigh. ‘I’m your captain, Kyle. We can’t-‘
‘There’s no one else,’ Gaz found himself saying, the words accompanied by a high pitched ringing in his ears, his voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. ‘There’s never been anyone else, Captain. Only you.’
Silence but for the wave-like swish of distance cars and the ragged sound of Gaz’s breathing. He felt heat rising in his cheeks. Price was silent for a moment. But then-
‘Bloody hell Kyle you’re fucking killing me,’ he growled and kissed him.
He tasted like cigarettes and cheap whiskey and it should have been unpleasant but Gaz found he was kissing him back, drinking him in, sliding his tongue into his mouth and trying to claim a little part of him for himself. Price moaned into his mouth. He yanked his head back.
‘No one?’ he said, sounding incredulous.
Gaz shook his head and Price lunged for him, his mouth crushing against his, one hand reaching past him to slam the door. Fucking hell had it been open all this time? He pushed him over to the shitty motel bed, his hands slipping under his clothes and Gaz sobbed, right into his mouth. Fuck he’d never felt so hard. All these years. All these months. To finally feel his hands on him solid and real and pressing into flesh and bone and not as a memory. He felt his back hit the bed, Price covering his body, one leg pushing his thighs apart and teasingly pressing against his balls, the pressure unbearable, the other holding his jaw. Then he dragged his mouth away and Gaz whined.
He was getting up. Why? Why? Gaz, foggy with beer and lust, realised he could hear raised voices from just outside the door. Soap. One hand holding his towel up Price jerked open the door and leaned out.
‘MacTavish!’ he bawled.
Gaz slid off the bed and joined him and Price roughly pushed him out of sight.
‘Go to bed,’ he said warningly, pointing a finger.
Gaz caught sight of a very drunk sergeant, listing slightly on the concrete.
‘Sergeant. Now,’ continued Price, glaring at him.
As Gaz watched Soap unsteadily turned and stumbled out of sight. Price closed the door but he didn’t shut it. He cleared his throat.
‘You should go to bed too,’ he said, without looking at him.
Something in Gaz’s chest broke, all the warmth turning to ice.
Price opened the door and jerked his head. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’
‘John,’ tried Gaz.
Price turned his back to him. ‘I’m gonna take a shower,’ he muttered, and left him standing there.
Gaz heard the click of the bathroom lock. He left.
With a deep shuddering breath Gaz came back to himself, cock still throbbing in his hand. He wanted to kick himself for playing through the whole scenario in his head. He sniffed and hastily wiped his cheeks, before he reached for a tissue.
He woke to a heavy hammering on his door and jerked awake , quickly pulling up his shorts with a snap as he got up. Sergeant Burns was standing on the other side.
‘Captain Price wants you,’ he said.
Gaz rubbed his eyes.
‘We on?’ he questioned.
Burns shrugged. ‘He just told me to come and fetch you.’
When Gaz entered Price’s office five minutes later, breathless from running across the base, he found two pairs of eyes looking back at him. Price was one of them. Laswell was the other.
‘Gaz. Good to see you. It’s been a while.’
‘We getting the team back together?’ said Gaz, taking a seat although no one had offered.
‘Something like that,’ said Laswell. She seemed tense, rubbing the back of her neck. Her usually immaculate hair was ruffled. ‘We’ve found an enclave of Konni, good intel. HQ wants us to strike now, no hesitation, and destroy the remnants before anything kicks off again.’
Gaz glanced over the desk and caught Price’s eye.
‘Just us?’ he questioned.
‘Just us,’ repeated Price, and winked. ‘Wheels up in 15,’ he continued. ‘See you on the field.’
‘Yes sir,’ replied Gaz immediately.
Geared up and pissed off Gaz clambered into the heli to find Price already in there, talking to the pilot. He turned at his approach.
‘All ready?’
‘You know it, Captain,’ replied Gaz and took a seat. He expected Price to stay up front but as they took off, the heli vibrating with a low metallic rumble, he walked down and sat next to him, one seat across.
Gaz glanced over at him and saw he was looking at his phone. He swiped through various pictures. He paused at a picture of Laswell, slightly blurry, head thrown back laughing. Had that been at Ghost and Soap’s wedding? When he’d walked in on them? Fuck sake. Were they starting that whole thing up again? It wasn’t his business, he told himself. He busied himself checking his gear. But then he looked back at Price and saw he was still staring at the picture. His expression was unreadable.
‘You dating then?’ he found himself saying, fighting to keep his tone disinterested even as he shouted over the roar of the engines.
Price looked up in surprise. The phone clicked off. ‘What?’ he said, sounding incredulous, his brow creasing beneath his helmet. Then he started to laugh.
Gaz fought not to scowl. ‘Something funny sir?’
Price shook his head in that way he had. ‘Nothing. It’s not- sorry, Kyle. We were just catching up. Her wife’s pregnant.’ He shrugged.
Gaz wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this information. ‘Didn’t know Laswell had the balls,’ he finally said and was rewarded with a weak smile. ‘Good for them I guess.’
‘Yeah,’ replied Price. ‘Good for them, right?’
Gaz thought again of the wedding reception. Prices groping hands, Laswell’s gasps, and getting so drunk he passed out so he didn’t have to think about it anymore. ‘You know I saw you, with her, at the wedding.’
Price stared resolutely ahead. ‘I know you did.’
‘Right,’ Gaz said again. He checked and rechecked his gear even though he knew everything was perfectly in place.
‘Yeah,’ replied Price.
They were silent for the rest of the ride.
The facility was an abandoned factory deep into the woods. They approached from the north west, staying low. Gaz peered through his binoculars.
‘No movement on the outside.’ He handed the binocs to Price. ‘See anything Captain?’
Price snorted. ‘You think my eyes can see better than yours? No. Negative on visual. You take the west side, I’ll go east.’
‘Affirm,’ replied Gaz, getting up. He stalked through the trees until he came to a rusting chain link fence. Slipping through the gap he headed into the facility.
His boots crunched over gravel and broken glass. The buildings appeared abandoned, the windows shattered. Grass and nettles forced their way up from the cracked concrete. He nudged open a rotten door to a portacabin with the tip of his rifle and shouldered inside.
He tensed as he saw movement on the other side but it was only Price coming in the other door.
‘Looks all clear,’ he said. ‘Konni have cleared off.’
‘Not like Laswell to have bad intel,’ remarked Gaz, sorting through mildewed papers.
‘Happens,’ replied Price with one of his habitual shrugs. ‘I’ll call it in.’ He put one hand to his radio. ‘Watcher 01, this is Bravo 06. Facility is abandoned, over.’
Gaz wandered away and peered through one of the broken windows. He wondered if the rest of his career would be chasing ghosts.
‘Well that’s done with,’ said Price sitting down heavily on the warped desk. He felt in his pockets for his cigarettes. ‘We’ve got twelve hours until exfil. Guess we’ll hunker down here.’
‘Guess so,’ said Gaz.
Price held out the squashed packet. ‘Cig?’
Although Gaz told people he wasn’t a smoker he always accepted a cigarette, especially if it was from Price. It reminded him of all the quiet moments they’d spent together, in ruptured cities, on the lonely edges of empty deserts, and touching down on base, just after a mission, when he’d be reluctant to go in and Price, somehow, always noticed.
They stood outside, leaning against the rusting corrugated steel wall and exhaled smoke. Price glanced at him, and it seemed he was about to say something but then they heard the sound at the same time. Rumbling engines and the creak of tyre treads on uneven tarmac.
‘Move it, move,’ hissed Price but the large space at the front of the factory was already filled with jeeps and soldiers, appearing from a half hidden path in the overgrown trees.
Someone had already seen them.
A loud shout sounded in Russian, a battle cry that was picked up, moving down the line of men that were discharging from the jeeps like a flood and then the shout was replaced by the rattle of rifle fire. They should have retreated. There were too many, far more than they had prepared for. These weren’t remnants, this was an army, armed to the teeth, and as fast as Gaz could shoot, more men popped up and vehicles filled the space with a grinding of rubber and metal.
‘Fucking hell where did they all come from?’ bawled Price, crouched against the wall. ‘On my count head for the rendezvous, I’ll cover you.’
A bullet zipped past Gaz’s ear. He had to reload, the air heavy with metal, and supressed a grunt as he was stung. Just a graze, he told himself. He’d be fine.
‘Not leaving you Captain,’ he panted, cocking his rifle and letting loose several rounds. He walked backwards and felt the door with his elbow. ‘Quick. In!’
They fell into the building. Price shouldered his weapon and ran for the desk. ‘We’ll bottleneck them,’ he said before another man popped up on the other side and fired.
He fell slowly, gracefully, scarlet decorating the still air in a floating haze, before he thudded onto his back. Gaz fired and hit the assailant dead on. He crouched over Price and saw him gargling and holding his throat.
‘Shit,’ he growled. He ripped gauze from a pocket. ‘Hold this and keep your eyes fucking open.’
He rounded on the soldiers he could hear prowling from the other side and downed all six.
‘Can you shoot sir?’ he asked Price, who nodded, blood ruby red, flooding between his fingers.
Gaz hefted him up and onto his shoulders in a fireman’s lift and burst from the building. He fired blindly, before he turned and ran.
He was lucky he didn’t get shot in the arse. He was lucky Price didn’t pass out and kept up a continuous roll of fire. He was lucky he found a path through the dark woods, winter wet leaves slippery underfoot, branches reaching to snarl them.
He lost the soldiers like a fox slipping hounds, dipping into tangled trees and underbrush, heading vaguely for the rendezvous’ coordinates. Finally a mile and 10 minutes later he was far away enough to stop. He set Price down. Was he even still breathing?
Yes. And still awake, his blood slowed to a sticky ooze, his blue eyes bright in the dim light of the cold forest. Gaz moved the soaked gauze out of the way and dipped into a pocket for something to replace it. Price opened his mouth but no sound came out. He plucked at Gaz’s arm.
‘I’m not giving you a cigar,’ said Gaz sternly. ‘And hold fucking still.’
Price gave a weak chuckle. Gaz bandaged him up. He was aware of a creeping chill and looked back to find wet mist had descended, muffling the entire forest in a white haze.
Price looked too, raising his eyebrows.
‘Yeah. I’m lucky, I get it,’ said Gaz, leaning back against a tree, his legs feeling like gnawed rubber, his rifle cradled in his lap. He pressed a hand to his radio.
‘Bravo 02 to watcher one. We need immediate evac. One injured, bleeding from the throat. Looks like the bullet passed straight through.’
He cocked his head, listening to white noise. He finally remembered to breathe when a voice answered.
‘Bravo 02, heard and received. Evac eta 2 hours to your position over. Please confirm coordinates.’
Price reached out across the wet loamy earth and clasped his hand. They sat like that for several hours, until the helicopter came.
Gaz stood outside the base hospital, smoking one of Price’s cigars until the doctor told him he was going to be okay.
He didn’t visit after that, worried that his luck would run out, and also hesitant to see the Captain laid out in bed, heavy bandaged, eyes bleary from painkillers. It felt personal. Intimate. He hadn’t been chosen to sit by his bedside. He was just his good little soldier boy, made to take orders.
His arm hurt. He went running. He received a letter on thick paper saying he was being recommended for a medal. He wondered if he could refuse. He pondered if he was becoming like the Ghost, who had a whole shoebox of them stashed under his bed.
Two weeks later a heavy knock sounded at his door and he knew instinctively it was Price. Could damn near smell him; mid-range cologne and Marlboro Lights. He paused the game he was playing and hesitantly opened the door.
His captain was standing on the other side, the shiny new scar on his neck already half hidden by his overgrown beard, his brown hair ruffled. He looked younger out of combat gear. Softer. Gaz almost wished he was wearing his stupid hat, because he looked far too good and it was making his insides ache.
Price shouldered inside without waiting for an invitation. Had he ever been inside his room before? He didn’t think so. Not that there was much to see, just his bed and a desk, a formula one poster on the wall the only decoration. Everything was neat and orderly. Gaz liked order.
‘I just came to say thanks,’ said Price, his voice hoarser and rougher but still very much the same. ‘You know, for saving my arse. Again.’
‘Any time sir,’ said Gaz but he didn’t have it in him to plaster on a smile. He was tired. He was tired of wanting. He was tired of pretending.
Price stood there, staring at him. His fingers twitched.
‘Can you believe I can’t smoke?’ he finally said. ‘Doctor’s orders.’
‘I can actually yeah,’ replied Gaz. He wished he would go away and leave him to his thoughts.
It seemed Price got the hint because he half turned, but then he stopped.
‘You’re a good soldier Kyle. One of the best. And a good man.’ He squeezed his shoulder, his hand lingering.
‘Is that why you won’t fuck me?’ blurted out Gaz, his mouth turning rigid, feeling like it belonged to a stranger.
Price met his eyes. His hand was still there, gripping the meat of his shoulder.
‘What?’ he said, voice dropping lower, his eyebrows knitting together.
This was his out. He should laugh. Play it off as a joke. Say Price was old and hearing things. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
‘I said is that why you won’t fuck me, sir?’ The sir was damn near snarled.
‘Kyle-‘ began Price.
‘No,’ said Gaz and slapped his hand away, stepping back, squaring his shoulders ‘Is it because I’m good? I’m not good. I’ve killed men with my bare hands, with my teeth. And I-I enjoy it, boss. All of it. All the bad shit. The fucking rush. My finger on the trigger. And your voice in his ear.’
Price let out a breath. ‘Kyle,’ he said again, stopping his hot stream of words.
‘What?’ growled Gaz.
‘You’re fucking beautiful,’ said Price, his face lighting up. He grabbed for him, placing both hands on his chest. His voice dropped. ‘You’re magnificent, like a fucking spirit of vengeance. You are good. You’re good to me.’
Gaz rolled his eyes even as his heart began to flutter. Price’s face was inches away.
‘Cut the bullshit John.’
Price’s rough hands cupped his face. ‘You’re too good for me, sunshine. I’m old and I’m fucked up and I’m damn near married to my job. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.’
‘I don’t want someone better,’ protested Gaz, his heart galloping in his chest, his cheeks pressing into Price’s hands. He clutched at his wrists. ‘I only want you.’
He waited for another excuse. It didn’t come. Price slowly let his hands drop. He leaned in and Gaz wondered if he was going to kiss him but he instead spoke directly into his ear.
‘Then get on your knees,’ he rumbled.
‘What?’ said Gaz, thinking he had misheard.
‘I said. Get. On. Your. Knees.’
It was a direct order and so Gaz complied, slowly sinking to the floor, feeling the rough carpet through the checked pyjama bottoms he was wearing. Price brushed a hand over his hair.
‘Good boy,’ he said. ‘Open wide.’
Gaz watched Price inching down his zip and easing out his heavy cock. He opened his jaw and Price pushed into his mouth. Gaz looked up at him, already stroking over the head with his tongue and tasting salt.
‘Show me how much you want to fuck me,’ said Price, a hand still lightly resting on the back of his skull.
Gaz hollowed his cheeks and sucked, damn near choking on Price’s thick length, his cockhead hitting the back of his throat. Price bucked his hips, his hand tightening and pushed down his throat, making Gaz gag, his eyes streaming. He couldn’t breathe and sucked all the harder, breath whistling, drool flooding his mouth and spilling over his stretched lips.
‘That’s enough,’ said Price softly, and Gaz pulled off, coughing and spluttering.
He was vaguely aware of Price undressing before he held out a hand and helped him to his feet.
‘What are we gonna do with you, hm?’ murmured Price, wiping a hand over his wet face. He caught hold of a fistful of his t-shirt. ‘Take this off,’ he directed and stood and watched as Gaz obeyed, one hand on his ruddy cock, stroking up and down.
He grabbed Gaz’s bicep and guided him over to the bed. They sat. Gaz waited for him to kiss him but he didn’t. He pressed an insistent hand to his chest and Gaz, feeling odd and exposed, lay down. Price leaned past him, shuffling through his chest of drawers.
‘No lube?’ he said, sounding surprised.
‘No,’ said Gaz. He watched Price pull out a tub of Vaseline and snicker.
‘Old school it is then,’ he said. The bed shook as he moved down it.
Gaz felt horribly awkward. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Perhaps they should have gone to his quarters or perhaps not started this at all. The duvet felt rough and the walls were thin and-
He stopped thinking when Price swung a leg over his hips, leaned down and kissed him. It was softer than he expected, Price’s lips moving gently against his mouth as his hands stroked down his body, his skin igniting under his touch. Just a hand resting on the hard edge of his hip was enough for his cock to swell and Price ran an appreciative hand over his straining length, callouses snagging on silk soft skin.
Price dipped his head, trailing a wet path down his cock and dragged the flat of his tongue along his balls. Gaz groaned. He craned his neck, staring at him. Was he really here? Were they finally doing this again?
He caught hold of the hair flopping over his forehead, raking it back, fingers tangling in the silky strands. Price continued to lick and suck at his balls, teeth teasingly tugging at his sack before he pushed Gaz’s legs up and onto his shoulders and dragged a sopping tongue over his hole. Gaz’s fingers dug into his scalp as he moaned, hips canting, his ankles locking together.
Price continued to lick, to suck, working him open with his lips and tongue. He reached for the Vaseline and scooped out a generous measure, before pulling back, lips glistening, and slapped a handful over his hole. He pushed two fingers in without warning, making Gaz’s breath catch in his throat, his chest hitching. He pushed in, all the way to the knuckle, before he caught his eye.
‘How many do you think you can take?’ he said, arching an eyebrow.
‘I-I dunno,’ choked out Gaz, feeling his thighs shivering.
His cock twitched as Price added a third, twisting inside him. Smirking, he pulled out and plunged in all four. Gaz howled, his hips rising off the bed, feeling himself stretched impossibly open.
‘Shh do you want everyone to hear you?’ said Price softly. He pulled out his fingers, Gaz whimpering, and reached for something on the floor. A moment later he was shoving his balled up underwear into his mouth. He ran a sticky hand over his clammy forehead. ‘Good boy. You can take it, can’t you?’
Gaz nodded, cotton slowly soaking in his mouth. Price moved back down, and pushed back inside, until half his hand was swallowed. He felt up and Gaz’s eyes rolled back as he pressed against his prostate. He continued to press, watching his reaction before finally letting his hand drop.
Gaz reached down, feeling his gaping hole, and shivered. Price surged up his body, yanked out the underwear and replaced it with his tongue. He kissed him, sloppy and messy, as he caught hold of his cock and sheathed himself without resistance.
Gaz moaned into his mouth as he was filled. Price kept his weight on him, anchoring him to the sheets. They were chest to chest, his hips grinding against him. He rocked against him, licking over his mouth as he finally pulled back.
‘Look at you, taking me so well,’ he murmured in his ear, making Gaz shudder.
He fucked him with a slow drag of his hips, holding him open on his cock, his hands digging into his biceps. He nipped at his neck, his lips, his chest. Gaz arched his back, grinding back against him. His neglected, drooling cock throbbed between them, brushing against Price’s belly, against fat and muscle and soft hair.
‘Please,’ he whined not even sure what he was asking for. ‘Please.’
Price shifted his weight with a smile. He sat back, pulling Gaz with him and began to pound him, jostling the breath from him, holding him in place with hard hands on his flanks. He fucked him without pause, hammering into him, dragging sounds from Gaz he’d never heard before, making tears slide down his cheeks. His cock throbbed agonizingly, leaking steadily, his belly and chest a glistening mess, his insides squelching with every hard thrust. He felt like he was coming without end but there was no respite, just a surge of scorching euphoria, his nerves blazing.
Finally Price pulled out with a sloppy sucking sound, moved to straddle his face and spent himself with a broken gasp, cum dripping all over his face. He slapped him, gently, until he opened his mouth and dripped it over his tongue. Gaz swallowed. Price crashed down next to him. He smoothed a hand over his sticky stomach, making him tremble.
‘What do we say?’ he said in a low voice.
‘W-what?’ panted Gaz, feeling his heartbeat thudding desperately through his flushed, throbbing cock. He thought for a second. ‘Can I come? Please? Please-‘
He bit clean through his lip as Price wrapped a hand around his slick cock and roughly tugged him up and down, thumb rubbing the exposed raw underside. Gaz screamed, twisting. It was too much, too sensitive, he-
He came, shrieking, blood burning bright, consumed with molten pleasure, feeling his hole flutter with every throb, his thighs tensing. He writhed under Price’s touch, his rough grip milking him until there was nothing left. He added the handful of cum to Gaz’s sticky belly before he leaned in and captured his mouth with his. Gaz was wheezing by the time he pulled back.
‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ murmured Price, stroking the cheek he had just slapped.
‘Am I?’ said Gaz, tasting the salt from Price’s cum and the coppery tang from his bitten lip. He felt like he’d been taken apart and put back together. He supposed in a way he had. At least when this was over, he thought, he’d have a new memory to think of. A good one.
Some of it must have showed on his face because Price tapped his forehead. ‘What’s going on in here, hm?’
‘Just thinking what a good fuck you are, sir,’ replied Gaz with a weak grin. He started to move, fishing over the side of his bed for something, anything, to pull over his sticky stained skin.
‘What are you doing?’ said Price, sounding surprised. He laced an arm around his waist and pulled him back, wrapping his arms around him. ‘We’re not done.’
Gaz looked back at him over his shoulder. ‘We’re not?’ he said in confusion.
‘Not even close. What, you think I’m gonna fuck you and just leave?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Or is this just sex to you? I thought you wanted more.’
Gaz sat up, Price moving with him. They stared at each other.
‘I did,’ he said, mouth dry. ‘I do.’
‘Good,’ said Price, slowly nodding. ‘Because I really like bowling.’
‘Bowling?’ Gaz spluttered.
‘Yeah, Kyle. Bowling. And football. And really long boring golf matches.’ Price grinned. ‘And you’re gonna come with me to all of ‘em. Are we clear?’
‘Are you, are we making this official?’ stuttered Gaz, scarcely able to believe it.
‘Well,’ said Price in a low voice, staring at his mouth as he leaned in. ‘We won’t tell the brass, will we, hm?’
He kissed him again, roughly, holding him down with his tongue, like he was claiming him. Gaz reached for him, squeezing his chest and then sliding his hand lower. They broke apart panting.
‘Absolutely sir,’ said Gaz breathlessly.
‘Mm call me that again,’ murmured Price, leaning in to nudge his head against him and nip at his neck. ‘Whisper it into my ear.’ He pushed Gaz back onto his back. ‘If you’re really good, I’ll call you sergeant.’
‘Yes sir,’ breathed Gaz and was rewarded with a deep moan that vibrated in his chest.
He fucked his captain for the rest of the afternoon.