Water Dogs
By Mia Watts
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Water Dogs
Copyright © 2012 Mia Watts
Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green
Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com
Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-529-8
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: July 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product
of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
The Dedication
To all the men of the Navy SEALs, thank you. My apologies if I’ve misunderstood any details
during the course of my research. All errors are unintentional and completely mine.
And to the fans. Thank you, as always.
Love, Mia.
Chapter One
Three months ago; Day twenty-four of twenty-seven…
Lieutenant John Tucker squatted behind the broken, battered mud wall that used to be
someone’s home. No survivors here. He was two for eight, and though he could hear a baby
wailing, between the anti-mortar explosions, his ears rang too badly to know from which
direction it came.
Behind him, a sheet snapped angrily in the breeze. A sandstorm was coming. He could
see the haze gathering on the horizon. He needed cover soon. He wanted to protect his weapons
from the invasive sand before it jammed his M4A1 carbine and made him completely useless.
The baby squalled. Anxiety tightened Tucker’s chest with renewed urgency—to find the
kid, to help. Insurgents dotted the small town. He could be looking for a child while walking into
a trap. Either way, he wasn’t there to save children. He was there to establish a safe entry for the
Army when they arrived. Orders were orders and breaking them would be out of the question. He
tuned out the crying child, trying not to see the face of his niece as he did so.
Tucker sank to the ground, his back against the inner wall of the mud dwelling. He
pressed the small black back box strapped to his throat.
“Skins, report,” Tucker called out, trying to locate the rest of his team.
It wasn’t the official use of an open channel, but he was getting desperate. The last strike
had separated them. They’d arrived with other SEALs, but no sooner had they landed than the
town had been attacked by air born missile fire. It had scattered his platoon before the Skins team
had a chance to rendezvous with the Water Dogs team from another troop. Who knew if the
Water Dogs even existed anymore? There’d been smoke on the horizon from the Iraqi
destination point.
And now he knew why. It was a ghost town without being deserted. The occasional cry,
the smell of rot, the pop of gunfire—all proof that people still hid where they could. Some of the
weapons fire was friendly. He could tell by the sound of the guns’ report.
Some wasn’t.
After securing the previous town near the sea, the Skins new mission was to assist the
remaining Water Dogs in claiming back this collection of mud huts, before the Army Company
arrived to claim it as a base point.
“Hotch reporting.”
“Thank God,” Tucker whispered to himself. He touched his voice box. “Tucker reporting.
Skins report your locations,” he demanded, knowing only those who weren’t within earshot of
enemy fire would actually answer.
At least Tucker wasn’t alone. He also wasn’t point, but he hadn’t heard from Commander
Hawking or Lieutenant Commander Jenkins in the hour since the most recent raid.
“Jenkins, reporting.”
Tucker breathed a sigh of relief to hear the LC’s voice. So far, the Skins were three deep.
How many of their troop had become extinct?
“Hotch, Butler, Kroane, Jericho, wing south. Eight insurgents, two over, one back,”
Jenkins commanded.
“Tucker, Findley, Howell, Cracker wing north, northwest and hold. Possible Whiskey
Deltas.”
Tucker hadn’t heard the others in his wing report, but Jenkins probably knew something
Tucker didn’t. He took several deep, steadying breaths. Whiskey Deltas, the alphabet call words
for WD or Water Dogs.
He didn’t need to respond that he’d heard the command, not this close to the enemy. He
just needed to do it. Tucker sent up a prayer and eased onto his hip to peer over the broken wall.
All clear, but the forty-yard dash without cover was going to suck.
Here went nothing. Tucker crouched low and readied his weapon. With a quick scan of
the area, he took off. He stayed low to the ground, “keep the target small,” echoing through his
mind from training.
He eyeballed the building ahead. Its structure wouldn’t provide much cover, but it wasn’t
his final destination. He reached it and took several deep breaths. He was prepping to begin the
next dash when shouts and gunfire ripped through the air from the other side of town.
Tucker clenched his eyes. He hissed air through barred teeth. Goddamn, he was thirsty.
He didn’t want to die thirsty. He felt the walls of panic close in and shook them off. He couldn’t
deal with panic right now. Later. He’d think about it later.
This wasn’t the time to plant himself. The gunfire would provide distraction. He gathered
the frayed edges of his courage, held his breath and made another run for it. The pop-pop of
bullets firing whizzed past his ear. Something burned his left thigh. Tucker dove and rolled
behind the next wall.
His thigh throbbed. He glanced down then back again when he saw the bright gash of red
through his torn fatigues. He couldn’t stop now. Those last bullets had been too close.
Another round of fire perforated the air. It wasn’t near him. Tucker left from the back of
the small, square building and humped it to the next three. The final location was within sight.
He’d make it. He hadn’t been stopped yet.
Tucker rolled his head against the dried mud and tried to see into the building. The
shadows seemed all the darker for the brilliance of blistering sun overhead. Sweat trickled down
his cheek and Tucker felt every pound of his equipment.
Too fucking hot for war.
His breathing came fast. He tried to calm it. Tried to inhale through his nose. The lack of
water was getting to him, making him feel lightheaded, like his heart would pound through his
chest to bleed on the desert floor.
I’m not dying here.
“Water Dogs,” Tucker whispered harshly into the sensitive vocal device, hoping one of
the Whiskey Deltas would give him a sign that they were in the target location.
The muzzle of an M4A1 poked into the corner of a window opening. Tucker breathed a
sigh of relief. It was one of theirs. Then the doubts started. Because it could also have been a
stolen weapon from one of the downed SEALs already on location.
It was a risk either way. Unfortunately, it was one he had to take. Tucker held his breath
and darted the short distance to the target location. He rolled hard inside the door, pressing his
body to the wall and demanding his eyes adjust.
He saw movement, but the occupants were nothing more than dark shapes in a darker
room. Apparently, these occupants understood that he needed to sit still until Tucker’s trigger
finger relaxed and his eyes focused.
Finally, he made out the crouched form of another SEAL by the window. The man shot
looks at him, but mostly kept his attention outside.
“You going to do something or stand there like a statue?” the man barked low enough to
carry only to Tucker. “You must be our back up. Skins, is it?”
“Like Water Dogs is better?” Tucker replied, automatically falling into the familiar inter-
troop insults.
Tucker’s shoulders eased. He took in the rest of the room. There was one other SEAL,
propped against the wall with a gun in his hand. He didn’t look good. The front of his tan shirt
had turned black with blood.
“He’s not going to make it,” Tucker stated the obvious.
“No.”
Tucker went over to check on him anyway. The man deliriously lolled to the side.
“Just you?” Tucker asked.
“One SEAL in a hut’s better than a handful of insurgents.”
“Hoo yah. Today’s gonna be another easy day,” Tucker muttered, quoting the Frog class
mantra.
“Rank and name, Frog?” The Water Dog asked him.
“Lieutenant John Tucker, Skins Team, Platoon Bravo.”
“Lieutenant Commander Alex Jackson. Water Dogs, Platoon Delta. Pull up some sand.
We’re gonna be here a while.”
Tucker nodded though Jackson wasn’t looking at him. “Longer than you know. There’s a
sandstorm moving in from the north.”
“This was supposed to be a Sneak and Peak,” Jackson snorted. “Looks like we’re in it for
the long haul.”
A Sneak and Peak, a reconnaissance mission. That was different from what Tucker had
been told, but then he wasn’t command. Obviously, whatever the original intent was, it had gone
bad.
Tucker touched his voice box. “Tucker at target location. Missing Findley, Howell,
Cracker. Located LC Jackson and downed Whiskey Delta, Franklin.”
“Affirmative. Stay at target. Radio silence, all wings,” Jenkins intoned.
Tucker babied his leg wound as he crouched to the window and kneeled beside Jackson.
“Radio silence until further notice,” he reported.
Jackson nodded, his green eyes trained on the street. “Stay at the door. I don’t want a
sneak attack.”
“Yes, sir,” Tucker acknowledged, accepting Jackson’s rank over his own.
He backtracked to the door. Tucker felt a sense of renewed hope. They’d have each
other’s back. Having spent the last several hours alone, he valued the second pair of eyes.
Jackson’s shoulders shifted as Tucker watched. The other man seemed to relax a little
too. As though holding down the location had just been made a little easier. Pride touched
Tucker’s chest. He’d do the LC proud. He’d do the Skins proud and show the Water Dogs what
real teamwork looked like.
He grinned for the first time in days. I’m almost home. And the view here ain’t so bad,
ma.
Jackson’s half-kneel crouch tightened his fatigues across his ass and thighs. His wide
back had a wet-spot along the spine and as Tucker watched, drops of sweat seeped into his collar
from the tanned column of neck. Jackson cocked his head to the side. Tucker caught the muted
glint of the dog tag chain Jackson had carefully hidden beneath his shirt.
Yeah, the location wasn’t ideal, but Tucker didn’t mind the view at all.
* * * *
Day twenty-five of twenty-seven…
Franklin died during the night, Ajax noted. He laid the soldier down, covered his face and
removed his tags. He also took the water and his weapons. Franklin wouldn’t need them.
Tucker’s eyes on Ajax made him itch between the shoulder blades. The way that man
looked at him sometimes, it made him nervous. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was like
the man saw deeper than Ajax’s skin. If a woman had been watching at him like that, he’d have
taken her to bed and dealt with it by now.
He shook himself, unblurring his gaze on the man he’d served with who hadn’t made it
home alive.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Franklin,” Ajax whispered over his dead friend’s body. His
throat felt tight. It could’ve been him lying there. It could’ve been any of them. “I’ll make sure
your wife gets these.” He tucked the tags into his left breast pocket.
He turned to the Skin the desert had blown through his door yesterday. Tucker was blond
and had the brightest blue eyes Ajax had ever seen. It seemed strange to have such angelic
gilding on a man who looked as though he had a touch of the devil inside.
Tucker gazed back evenly. He nodded toward Franklin in unspoken camaraderie. Ajax
could respect that. The simple nod, the recognition of wartime silence in a hot zone while
honoring a fallen brother. There seemed to be a lot to respect about Tucker. Too bad he was a
Skin. He’d have made and excellent Water Dog.
Ajax nodded his return thank you.
Neither one of them had slept much. The heavy fire had dissipated and the occasional
crack of weaponry had grown fainter into the distance. Ajax had sent half his team to intercept
the Skins. Based on his few conversations with Tucker, none of them had made it. The Skins had
arrived on their own. This mission was falling to pieces, and they’d yet to secure the town for the
Army. With the Army set to arrive in two more days, there was a lot to wait out.
The other half of his team had secured a central building with civilians to protect, while
Ajax kept a look out with the Skins who’d made it this far.
Tucker met his gaze steadily. “We’re gonna need water, LC.”
“Call me Ajax. I’ll pull rank when it’s time for it.”
“I passed a well on the way in. It’s about sixty yards south,” Tucker told him.
“I know where it is. Can you make it?” Ajax asked him.
Tucker looked sturdy enough. He’d made it this far and his leg wound hadn’t slowed him
down much. The makeshift wrapping had soaked through, but it was old blood. Moving would
reopen it, but Ajax needed to stay on point.
“I can make it.”
“No,” Ajax decided. “Screw it. I can’t send a wounded man out there and hope they
miss.” He crossed the floor in three quick strides and shoved Franklin’s weapons into Tucker’s
hands. “Take these.”
Tucker grabbed Ajax’s wrist. “Since you aren’t pulling rank, you gotta let me go. I have
no way of knowing if my LC is still kickin’ or where the rest of my team is. We’ve taken heavy
casualties. We need a team lead in play. I’ll go.”
Tucker’s bright blue eyes glittered. It was either the effect of heat or he’d begun to show
signs of fever. Ajax opened his small medic kit and pulled out another single antibiotic injection
pack.
“Use this. I’ll come back with water and we’ll clean you up. I’m not losing another
soldier on my watch,” Ajax insisted.
“But, sir,” Tucker protested.
“Shut it, Lieutenant.”
Tucker’s mouth closed on whatever argument he’d been about to formulate. Ajax nodded
in satisfaction. He took Franklin and Tucker’s canteen and strapped them down. He also
collected a clay pot from the corner of the structure.
Ajax left the relative safety of the building for the silent streets. He skirted the sides of
buildings, keeping low and darting quick looks around the corners before making the next pass,
taking him closer and closer to the well. He filled up quickly and returned, expecting to get hit
with a bullet at any moment.
The well showed signs of crumbling. Hopefully the water would be drinkable. If not, they
had tablets for that, but there wasn’t anything he could do about mud in the water. Fortunately, it
came up relatively clear with only a few chunks of brick in it. He fished them out and ran back to
his post.
It was on the way back when the shooting began. Ajax ducked and ran, praying to
anything that would listen for safe passage.
Tucker pulled him in when Ajax got close, and covered him with a barrage of bullets
aimed at a building only visible from the hut’s door. They heard a shout and the rifle dropped
from the second story window.
Tag one for the visiting team.
“Nice shooting, Tucker.”
Tucker gave him that silent nod again. It was beginning to get unnerving how well he
communicated with a simple gesture.
Ajax huddled close. “Keep the gun trained outside. I’ll take a look at your leg.”
Tucker stretched out, then twisted at the waist to keep his eyes on any approaching target.
Ajax peeled off the bandage and ripped the pants leg open wider. The edges of the wound looked
good. While there was mild swelling of the tissues, it wasn’t gangrenous, and there didn’t appear
to be any infection. He touched the surrounding skin, checking for fever, but Tucker was in the
clear.
Carefully he rinsed the wound and poured bonding powder to the edges before
rewrapping it in a washed bandage. It was the best he could do for now until they got Tucker to a
medic. Ajax sighed, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. Tucker was going to make it.
Ajax hadn’t let another soldier down.
“You’ll live,” he told Tucker.
“For a little while longer, anyway.”
“I’m making sure you get home,” Ajax countered.
Tucker smiled enigmatically. “That’s my job. They’d be happier to have an LC back than
me. Believe it.”
Ajax met his gaze, looking into the light blue pools. Tucker looked like he should be
lounging on a beach somewhere, not dodging bullets and bleeding from an aggravated leg
wound.
He grabbed the back of Tucker’s head. “I’m getting’ you home.”
“Thanks.”
* * * *
Day twenty-six of twenty-seven…
Tucker blinked through the sweat blinding him. The days were blurring into one another.
The water Ajax had collected was almost gone. Partly from the thirst of both men, partly from
the dehydration of desert air wicking it away. Franklin’s smell seemed more toxic today than it
had last night. Rot had fully set in making the body bloat. It wouldn’t be too much longer before
he popped. The heat sped up the process. The smell forced Ajax and Tucker to crowd the
doorway until the decision to move seemed the only solution.
There was a smaller dwelling nearby, still close enough to water, but at the edge of the
town with good visibility. A sheeted awning stretched its length to a weathered stick in the
ground, though the thin fabric had been riddled with bullets and torn in several places.
Gunfire had ceased sometime in the small hours of the morning. To Tucker, it felt like the
two of them were alone in the world. Yet orders were orders, no communication. Just the
interminable wait.
Ajax’s short black hair glistened with sweat. He flicked a look at Tucker. “You run. I’ll
cover. Give me a thumbs up when you get there and then cover my ass. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Tucker thought he saw admiration in the LC’s green eyes. Whatever it was,
he’d take it. Tucker readied himself against the leg pain and ran.
He arrived, heart pounding with an adrenaline rush he’d pay for later with nausea. He
gave the thumbs up and Ajax raced to his side. Still no enemy fire.
“Franklin will have to wait until the Army secures the base here,” Ajax muttered. “I’m
not leaving him behind.”
“Of course not,” Tucker said, clasping Ajax on the arm.
He leaned on Ajax. Ajax put an arm around him and helped him limp to a better vantage
point. There’d been no one from either team cluttering the airwaves. No news from the Army
about their estimated time of arrival expected tomorrow at last report.
They were alone in the middle of the desert, thousands of miles from home and several
kilometers from the ocean. The silence was deafening until the sandstorms came to pelt them
with tiny needles. At those times, there was nothing to do but huddle and wait for it to pass. The
consolation prize in all that was knowing the enemy was in the same boat. If the enemy still
populated the town. If anyone, but Ajax and Tucker still populated the town.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t heard the baby cry again. Not once in the days since
he’d gotten there. Had he died? Left? It messed with his mind.
Ajax helped him sit, then took up the spot next to him. “One more day. We hold, one
more day.”
Tucker rocked his head to the side until he was looking at Ajax. “Really? We’ve had no
word. What if the plans have changed?”
Ajax rolled his head on the wall toward Tucker too. “Then we hump it to the ocean and
swim home.”
Tucker laughed. God, it felt amazing to laugh. Maybe it was delirium or dehydration, but
who the fuck cared?
Ajax laughed too, trying to shush them both. Finally, he clapped a hand over Tucker’s
mouth. The hunger Tucker had been building for this man reached critical mass. There’d been
too much death. Too much silence. He needed to break the damn rut. He needed to live a little
and why the hell shouldn’t he start now, just in case neither one of them made it out of this
hellhole alive?
Tucker knocked Ajax’s hand away, grabbed the man’s head with both hands and kissed
him hard on the mouth. Ajax fought, shoving at Tucker’s chest, but Tucker didn’t want to stop.
That would be admitting defeat, to himself and to the blistering desert that killed everything else.
He wasn’t going to snuff out the attraction he felt for Ajax too, damn the consequences.
Ajax pushed at Tucker harder, needing the lips to go away. He needed Tucker to back off
now, now. But he kept kissing, kept insisting, and Ajax’s damn cock seemed to think it was
playtime. Tucker gripped his scalp like a vise. His mouth moved on Ajax’s until he had to relent
just in order to breathe. When his lips parted, it was like Tucker thought he’d been given
permission to invade, and suddenly his tongue plunged deep and demanding.
Ajax’s head swam with questions and confusion, especially because it felt so fucking
amazing. Tucker had him pinned on his back before he knew what hit him. Tucker rocked on
him, his hard cock butting against Ajax’s, and Ajax was stunned to discover that his own pecker
zinged with insistent need for more.
He’d never been turned on by a man before. Not officially. Nothing he’d ever admit to,
anyway. There’d been a moment in college once, but he’d buried it and spent the next week
making time between the sheets with women, as penance.
There weren’t women here. There was Tucker, and Tucker seemed more than willing to
satisfy any latent curiosity Ajax might have.
He stopped pushing and simply rested his hands on Tucker’s shoulders, nervously feeling
out the guy-on-guy kiss thing. His mind rebelled, but the rest of him seemed all for it. Tucker
seemed to calm, and slowed down enough to suckle Ajax’s bottom lip. As he tugged up Ajax’s
shirt to touch his chest, Ajax quit protesting all together. His mind went into auto-drive.
Tucker circled Ajax’s nipple. Ajax had never noticed how sensitive they were. Nobody
really touched them before, but he decided he liked it. A lot. And when Tucker pulled the shirt
completely off his body and then removed his own, Ajax was startled to discover he liked the
feeling of hard muscles pressing against his own too.
Sweat slicked their bodies. They slid easily together and Ajax got lost in kissing. Tucker
looped a finger under the voice box pressing against Ajax larynx and tugged it free. He removed
his own and put them aside.
Tucker’s blue eyes shone with heat and hunger. It was a look he hadn’t seen in a while in
another person, and it finally explained the itch between Ajax’s shoulder blades. The man hadn’t
just decided to start kissing Ajax, he’d been thinking about it for the past couple of days. The
looks, the weird sense that he was seeing Ajax better than other people did. It fell into place, and
it felt amazing.
Tucker grinned widely. “Glad you’re on board, LC.”
He dipped his head and scraped his teeth on Ajax’s neck. Ajax groaned as the other man
hit a sweet spot, and the next thing he knew, he’d buried his hands in Tucker’s flaxen hair to
hold him in place. Tucker humped him gently and any last thought he had of resisting flew out
the mud hut window. Ajax committed to this mission like any other, and he didn’t stop Tucker
from reaching inside his fatigues to fish out Ajax’s engorged cock.
“Excellent weaponry. Beautiful craftsmanship,” Tucker teased, looking down between
them.
Ajax had nothing to say. Somehow adding words to the experience made it indelible.
Deniability echoed at the back of his mind. No one could know about this. Ever.
Tucker pulled his own equipment out and fisted their dicks together. He pumped roughly,
and Ajax shuddered through a long needy groan. Tucker rolled to the side and pulled him in for
long, hot kisses that left Ajax breathless.
Whether it was the taboo of giving in or the need to have a little pleasure within the hell
of the desert dunes, Ajax came hard, bucking into Tucker’s hand. Tucker chuckled and shot his
own load, muffling his shout against Ajax’s bare shoulder.
* * * *
Day twenty-seven of twenty-seven…
Yesterday, giving in to his growing fascination with the man had been amazing. He could
hardly believe it when Ajax had responded, kissed him back, and then let himself be jacked off
by Tucker. What they’d shared was a rare moment, and Tucker wanted more before they were
shipped off to their separate destinations.
Yet Ajax hadn’t said a word to him since the day before. If anything Tucker thought he
seemed a little pale and shaky. Ajax refused to look at him, which annoyed Tucker. He wanted to
search those gorgeous green eyes and see if he could make out what the LC was thinking.
Easy conversation in an enemy zone wasn’t recommended, Tucker supposed. He eyed
Ajax’s profile looking again for any hint of the man’s thoughts, and came up dry. Ajax stared out
the window from his post.
Tucker tossed a pebble at the man’s boot to get his attention. Ajax glanced down, then at
him but shook his head and drew a line across his throat. It was the signal for radio silence, but
Tucker couldn’t help wondering if it was also given as a recommendation not to speak about
yesterday.
Ajax moved suddenly. He touched his earpiece as he presumably received orders from a
distant, unknown voice.
“Skins, report,” Jenkins rasp clicked into Tucker’s ear.
“Tucker here,” Tucker answered. He waited and heard the call in from Kroane, Butler,
and Hotch.
Only five of their team of thirteen remained. It had been a wipeout. Tucker felt sick.
Ajax touched the black box strapped at his throat. Even though they were feet away from
each other, Tucker couldn’t hear his whispered command to the Water Dogs team.
“ETA sixteen hundred hours,” Jenkins informed.
Four o’clock. Just two more hours until the Company arrived. He hoped to hell that
securing the town had been worth it.
There’d been no expectation of resistance. Nothing on the report had indicated more than
a few settlers possibly being annoyed at interrupted life. Certainly no firepower.
They were down eight men. Eight. He couldn’t think about the funerals now, or the
families waiting for them at home. He couldn’t get distracted by thoughts of what had been
expected and what had actually occurred here in the desert. He couldn’t put his mind on things
that mattered. They took up too much of his thoughts if he let them.
He couldn’t think about those things now.
The heat. The sweat tracking its way down his spine to moisten his waistband. The fact
that his nose dried out with every inhale. The cracks on his bottom lip that he kept pestering with
his tongue. The grinding grit under his kneecap when he knelt. The way his ears seemed to ring
from too much silence over too many hours. The waves of heat in the distance that actually did
look like water on the ground. Sand in every crease of his body. These were the here and now
and worth a passing thought before he dismissed them as unchangeable truths that taxed his mind
no more than any other sensory fact recorded and discarded.
And he could think about Ajax squirming on the hard ground beneath him, the stunned
look on his face when he realized what they were doing with each other and the fact that he liked
it.
Yeah, Tucker could dwell on that because it too was a dismissible fact that wouldn’t
follow him out of the desert. Ajax wouldn’t talk about it and neither would Tucker. It was stress
relief and life affirming. It was as true as furnace-like heat and chilly desert nights. Ajax didn’t
have to be gay to appreciate a good hand-job. Tucker was gay enough for both of them, and still,
it was a fact that wouldn’t leave the desert unless Tucker wanted to talk about it.
Sure as hell wouldn’t be Ajax talking.
Tucker smirked to himself. Things happened in the battle zone. Weird things. People died
and homes were destroyed and sometimes a straight man got off from gay sex. Hoo yah!
Without Jenkins talking in his ear, Tucker now heard the whispered call out of Ajax
rounding up his wounded team. The LC listened. His face grew intense, then grim as he must
have received a similar low body count. He commanded radio silence.
The last two hours were interminable. The seconds dragged like a scorpion creeping
across a rock. Then sixteen-hundred-hours hit and the Army descended on them like a
camouflaged blanket of noise and grunting. Sand lifted and danced as helicopters set down and
loud machinery changed the silence of the landscape.
Robed, armed men wearing traditional headscarf ghutras banded by black iquals came
tearing out of hiding in some parts. Their white attire now stained beige from days of unwashed
sweat and sand, perhaps, or lack of bleach. Strange that Tucker would wonder about laundering
now. He blinked, holding his post as he waited for word that they were clear to meet up and
retreat to the return sight for pick up.
Within twenty minutes the Army had infiltrated the collection of square, mud huts and
the remaining insurgents were held at bay in a collection of two dwellings as they tirelessly held
their ground popping off pointless round after pointless round. For all intents and purposes, it
was over and the next hour saw the fight finished.
“LC,” Tucker began when talking was safe. “It was good serving with you.”
Ajax gave him a distracted nod without making eye contact. He shouldered his remaining
gear and took off at a jog. Tucker stared after him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and
annoyance. Apparently a hand-job outranked common courtesy. He shook his head. Too damn
bad.
The pop of artillery rained from the ridge nearby. Ajax’s back was to it and puffs of sand
ghosted off the ground too close for comfort. Tucker took a running leap and knocked Ajax
down as hot pain seared his shoulder.
Tucker kept the LC covered as the pftt-pftt of gunfire peppered near his head.
Chapter Two
Present…
Ajax held the list of new team members and put it down for the hundredth time. Orders
were that the devastation of three SEALs teams meant a consolidation into two new ones. The
most trained, war-experienced were coming to the Water Dogs under his command. The Water
Dogs had gone from the perfection of Navy SEALs specialized forces to…Navy SEALs super
specialized forces?
How did the Navy specialize a specialist team? It was redundant, if you asked Ajax. But
no one had. Instead, they’d moved two SEALs from a base in Gooding, North Carolina and two
more from a base in Edgeland, Texas. Along with four more surviving members of the original
Water Dogs team, they were convening a new team with Ajax in charge here in Capeside,
Virginia.
It wasn’t the responsibility of leading. He’d done that. He’d keep on doing it. It was
losing his men that resulted in the reorganization and one particular new name on the roster that
made his ears roar: Lieutenant John Tucker.
There were only so many name repetitions in the band of SEALs brothers. John’s wasn’t
one of them. Ajax knew because he’d checked. And the Commander had informed him that the
selection had been based on past performances as well as their recent joint mission in the Middle
East.
Every time a memory of Tucker entered his mind the past few months, Ajax had pushed
it resolutely away. Now he’d be faced with it daily. Starting in thirty minutes when they gathered
in the Troop meeting room.
Ajax grabbed his cap and walked down the hallway to the Commander’s office. He
knocked three times and was ordered to enter. He stood at attention until the Commander put
him at ease. There was no discussion. There wouldn’t be any in the Navy, nor would his
commanding officer know how Ajax felt about the switch up. The SEALs didn’t do feelings and
neither did Ajax.
Together they marched into the meeting room, which had a set up like a short college
theater with long curved tables on platform risers, chairs enough to accommodate fifteen men to
a platform. The men were already assembled and stood at attention.
“At ease, gentlemen. Take your seats,” the commander began. “I am Commanding
Officer Gerald Hogg. Lieutenant Commander Alex Jackson will give you my orders. You’ll
report to him directly as team lead for any and all Water Dogs business. You’re familiar with
SEALs protocol, but I’m inclined to spell it out for you.
“You will keep your cell phones on you at all times. You will respond promptly to any
communication from your LC. You will treat him with the same respect as you’d treat your CO,
and you will see him far more often than you see me.
CO Hogg caught his wrist behind his back and lifted his chin as though sizing up the new
men under his command.
“I don’t care if your wives get bent out of shape for missing your kid’s t-ball game. You
will answer because that is what a SEAL does. And you will drop everything and hump it
straight to your team situation room. Lieutenant Commander Jackson will take it from here.”
CO Hogg nodded at Ajax and left.
“When I dismiss you, you’re free to go. Take advantage of the time, because your
presence is required at my home promptly at seventeen-hundred. You will be out of uniform and
you will be hungry. You’ll then report to me at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow in the sit-room
in uniform for your first day as Water Dogs. Now,” Ajax relaxed into a smile. “Grab your shit,
men. Let’s introduce you to your new digs.”
He led the way out of the building, pointed at the different offices and their purposes. The
“tour” took five minutes. He didn’t intend to handhold them. They knew where everything was,
they could walk over by themselves.
“You’re dismissed,” he barked. He studiously kept his eyes away from Tucker’s. What he
needed to do was establish a no-shit zone in his chain of command.
Ajax took his keys out of his pocket and headed toward the parking lot. He had a
barbeque to finish prepping for. He held his breath until he’d gotten into his car and started the
engine. Tucker hadn’t tried to corner him or make any move to talk to him alone. Slowly he let
out the pent up breath.
Thank God.
* * * *
At five-fifteen, Tucker picked up two beers from the cooler, handing one to his former
Skins teammate, Michael Kroane. His shoulder pinched, but he ignored it.
“So Cracker, Jericho, Findley and Butler are okay?” Tucker asked. “What happened to
Hotch?”
“He was moved to Edgeland with Butler. Something about having a beef with his father-
in-law.” Kroane answered, tipping his head back to down half the bottle.
“I suppose that can be an issue when your father-in-law is also your CO.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t move them here, but my guess is they needed to seed a
younger team with someone who knew what he’s doing,” Kroane said when he came up for air.
Tucker nodded.
Kroane looked both ways and leaned in. “Besides, can you see the CO or LC of the
Water Dogs giving equal time to another team? Because I don’t. They still hold the majority.”
“Which is why we’re still called the Water Dogs,” Ajax said from behind them. He lifted
his beer when they turned. “I’m not going to have problems with you two, am I?”
“Nope,” Kroane hurried to answer.
“No, sir,” Tucker agreed with him.
“How’s your shoulder?” Ajax asked him.
“Healed.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ajax said, his smile tight.
Ajax wouldn’t look at him longer than a second. He didn’t rush. His eyes were just flat
and cool. He let nothing out of the bag.
As though nothing had happened, Tucker thought. But then a lot of war actions were like
that. They didn’t exist outside the desert. Unfortunately for Tucker’s heart, he had been able to
spend those days with Ajax, just the two of them depending on each other for their lives. A bond
had formed. Theirs had just taken a different twist. A twist Tucker wanted to revisit.
“I’ll take a turn at the grill,” Tucker offered. He moved passed Ajax—and they were all
calling him that now—to the coals and hefted the industrial sized tongs.
Treeton walked over and slapped Tucker on the shoulder. “You were a Skins? Seal Team
four of the Bravo Platoon?”
“Yeah,” Tucker acknowledged.
“I’ll save you my bratwurst casing. Get it, skin for a Skin?”
Treeton laughed like he’d made a funny joke. As jokes went, it was a lame one. But it did
mean that something was up. Tucker had expected it. You couldn’t join a new team without the
requisite ragging.
He felt tense as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Turning his back to the others to flip
burgers made his skin crawl. Training had taught him never to put his back to an unsecured
location. This was his team, but it also wasn’t. Not yet.
There’d be some rough teasing, some light hazing and then they’d be family. He’d rather
get it over with. Suddenly an arm came around his neck and before he could fight off the two
men holding him, Tucker’s lights went out.
* * * *
Tucker came to, strapped to a dolly-cart with duct tape holding his arms and legs to the
metal. Looking down at himself he saw that his clothes had been stripped. His junk hung out.
The guys jogged across the base lawn laughing. All of them were from the troop, though none of
them were Water Dogs platoon.
“Hey,” Kroane yelled. “Get me the fuck out of here!”
“Just trying to make you comfortable. You did say you were Skins, right?” A man yelled
back, lifting a hand in a mocking salute.
“What’d you do to the other two?” Tucker growled. He’d expected some roughness. He
even expected the platoon to play some pranks. He hadn’t expected them to knock them out, take
them back to the base in the nude, and strap them to a dolly in full view of the quad.
“I think they’re on their way to Georgia about now,” Another guy from the Delta Platoon
called back. “But they won’t be waking up as quickly.”
“You’re trying to tell me that we’re getting off easy?” Kroane snapped.
“Getting off? I have no idea. But you guys get a pass for serving with SEAL Team six a
few months ago,” the third said grinning.
Tucker rolled his head to the side, speaking to Kroane. “Hey. How long do you think
we’ll be trussed up like this?”
“Fuck if I know,” he muttered back. “Think we’d better settle in.”
Tucker stretched his neck to see as much of the quad as he could. “The Troop had to have
gotten by the Water Dogs and Ajax to take us.”
They’d been dropped in the very center of the green. That meant at the crack of dawn,
entire groups of trainees would be crowding the quad for morning exercises. Superiors would
drive by and see them too. Shit-out-of-luck is what they were.
“Ajax!” Kroane shouted.
“Save it,” Tucker told him. “Ajax and the guys had to be in on it.”
The four troop guys jogged away. Tucker didn’t know how long they’d been knocked
out, but clearly it had been enough time for the others to ship off two men, strap two others up
and still have time for evening to fall.
One of the men turned around. “Tucker, Kroane, don’t be late tomorrow or the LC will
have your heads.” He gave a discrete nod to the men’s groins.
“Fuck you!”
Kroane tugged uselessly against his bound arms. The dollies were well secured and
wouldn’t tip. It was gonna be a long damn night.
* * * *
Ajax took out his binoculars and looked at his two men from his office window. He’d
made himself scarce the minute he knew what the guys were up to. Unofficial hazing was all part
of the bonding. And as far as pranks went, this one wasn’t nearly as bad as the one that left a
man stranded in the swamp three states away, or the guy who got dragged around on the ground
all night long.
As far as Ajax could tell, platoon delta had taken it easy on them. Besides, neither Kroane
nor Tucker had anything to be ashamed of. They were perfect SEAL specimens. Except for the
small puckered scar on Tucker’s left shoulder below the collarbone and a track of scar across his
thigh.
He’d let them sweat it. Tomorrow when they were late to the meeting, they’d go through
the informal team judging and it would all be settled. There were some things it was better for
him to look the other way on. As long as everyone was safe.
Ajax pressed his lips into a fine line. Memories he’d been fighting since the last tour
came screaming to the forefront of his memory. Mixed in with the deafening bursts of artillery,
the trek across the desert and the unending nights of wafting putrid rot while they were stuck in
the village was Tucker.
Tucker had taken a bullet for him. Had saved his life. He’d also spun a web of questions
Ajax wasn’t prepared to deal with. He’d tried to put what happened between them in the desert
into perspective, but Ajax wasn’t convinced there was a broad enough perspective to handle it.
He supposed all manner of things happened during war. Don’t ask, don’t tell and all that.
But Tucker had been on him and Ajax—he’d been willing.
He turned away from the window as though he could turn away from the truth. He didn’t
want to think about Tucker or sex or sex with Tucker. He didn’t, it was just that his mind
couldn’t process what had happened and how out of character for him it had been. That had to be
the reason. Ajax wasn’t gay. He didn’t care if Tucker was, but he, himself, wasn’t.
Ajax sat down at the table in the team room and ran a hand through his hair. Closing his
eyes—because his troubles had followed him to the table, and Ajax seemed incapable of pushing
them away—he thought of blond hair and pale blue eyes. He’d seen those eyes up close.
Remembering it now flooded his senses with other things, like the smell of Tucker’s stale sweaty
body warmed in desert heat, and the urgency of the way he’d kissed Ajax. And Tucker’s hand on
him…
He tried again to push them away, but they persisted. It was impossible to forget Tucker’s
hands holding Ajax head steady or those same hands on Ajax’s cock.
He’d been stunned to have a hard-on from the blond man he barely knew. He chalked it
up to being too long between women, but it didn’t explain the crazy rush Ajax had felt in letting
go, to exhilarate in Tucker’s touch instead of fighting him off. And that was the truth of it. A
man knew how to touch another man the way he liked.
Women, their soft hands and soft mouths were great. They got the job done. There was
the fumbling, the shy smiles and the high-pitched sounds he’d come to associate with great sex.
But then there was Tucker.
No high-pitched, unsure, soft reaction about him. He’d gone in for Ajax’s mouth, his
cock, taken control and ripped an orgasm out of him with very little effort. And it had been
amazing. Like a SEAL getting his job done without excuses. That’s what Tucker had done. He’d
taken control, gotten the job done, and hadn’t fussed about it.
Ajax grunted his frustration. Allowing himself to think about it hadn’t solved his
confusion in the least. He pressed his hand over his mounting erection. He shouldn’t be getting
one of these for Tucker.
Maybe it was gratitude? The man had saved his life, served with him at the end of the last
tour, done his job admirably, and seemed to be taking the Water Dogs’ hazing in stride. Ajax
understood SEALs. He was one of them. Tucker was the same as that.
So why did Ajax’s stomach jump at the thought of seeing him every day? Fear? Was he
afraid Tucker would try it again?
He didn’t think so. They hadn’t talked about it, but it seemed to Ajax that Tucker had left
it back in the Middle East. He might be afraid Ajax would expect more from him now. As his
LC, that would be something a subordinate might worry about.
“I should make it clear,” he decided. I should suggest that he need not worry about it. It’s
forgotten.
Ajax smiled. Yeah. He’d do that. Then they’d both be sorted out and could finally forget
about everything but starting over as Water Dog brothers.
Chapter Three
“You’re late!” Ajax barked at the two men.
Tucker stood patiently, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d been through this before.
There’d be no acceptable defense for showing up to the meeting late. They’d get theirs now and
the two others, sent to Georgia, would have their own little judgment.
“You embarrassed your troop and your team. You will be judged by a jury of your peers.
Your fellow Water Dogs have been enlisted to represent you.”
The four original Water Dogs lined up beside them while members of troop, involved in
the prank, stood behind the LC. It was a farce. They all knew it. Now it was time to play the
game and get it over with.
“How do you plead?” Ajax snapped.
The “jury” shouted, “Guilty!”
“Sir, they’re Skins. They can’t be expected to behave with dignity befitting a Water
Dog,” Treeton, suggested from where their mock defense team stood.
“You were found naked in the quad,” Ajax continued.
“Guilty!” the troop shouted again, really getting into it.
“But sir,” Fullerton interjected. “They need to be trained.”
One of the jury barked.
“Guilty,” they all shouted again.
“Then as punishment, I hereby determine that you must be branded and admitted, trained
and corrected in the ways befitting a true Water Dog!” Ajax motioned to the two men. “Jury,
take hold of Lt. Kroane and Lt. Tucker. Remove their shirts and hold fast their arms!”
Instantly the men jumped into action doing as they were told. Tucker’s shirt was torn
down the middle and his arms pulled hard behind his back. His shoulder twinged uncomfortably
at the injury site, but he bit back a complaint. He smiled grimly.
Ajax held a trident patch to Tucker’s chest and slammed his fist against it, biting the
patch into his pectoral with the force of the hit. Tucker pushed his chest out, proudly taking the
abuse. Man after man, the troop pummeled the patch into his peck in the same spot.
Some of the older men had tears of pride in their eyes, and Tucker felt his throat catch
with emotion. They were branding them, making Tucker and Kroane one of them. Now they
were family.
When the final hit came, he looked over at Kroane who sported a watery smile of his
own.
“Hoo yah, Frogman,” Kroane rasped.
Tucker nodded back. “Dogs ’til we die.”
The troop cheered. Tucker caught a fresh shirt as it was thrown to him and carefully
shrugged out of his torn one and into the new.
“Welcome to the team, men.” Ajax clapped their shoulders. “Let’s hit Dusty’s for a
celebration.”
“Yes, sir,” Tucker said smiling into Ajax’s soft green eyes.
It was the friendliest he’d seen the LC in a while. Now that they were all family, maybe it
wouldn’t be the last time either.
“Are you sure your shoulder’s okay?” Ajax asked, walking beside him to the parking lot.
“It’s fine. The doc signed off on it.”
“He may have signed off, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”
“Touché,” Tucker agreed. He shrugged and rotated his shoulders elaborately. “Let’s just
say I feel it.”
“Are you going to be feeling it if we’re sent on another tour soon?”
“Is that going to happen?” Tucker asked.
“Won’t know until the order comes down, but I need to know if I have a full team or
not.”
“I’ll be there and fully functional.”
“Excellent,” Ajax determined.
They walked along in silence. The others were a few paces ahead and laughing loudly as
they relived the prank from each of their viewpoints. Tucker smiled at the camaraderie. It was
good to be part of a team. Nothing like the SEALs for family, he decided.
“Tucker,” Ajax began.
Tucker looked at him sideways as they walked. Ajax stared straight ahead. His face
seemed strained, his walk a little less free.
“There are things we leave behind in the field,” Ajax hedged. “They don’t need to come
up again.” He met Tucker’s gaze steadily. “Ever.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed on him. “Is that for my peace of mind or yours?”
Ajax faced away, stopping by his truck. “It’s better for everyone.” He shot Tucker a fake
smile and jerked open his truck door. “I’ll see you at Dusty’s.”
“Yeah,” Tucker muttered before moving on.
Ajax’d been into it. Tucker could’ve sworn Ajax had been into it. He shook his head as
he got to his car and started it up. Of course, on tour Ajax and Tucker hadn’t known they’d end
up on the same team together. So to speak, he thought with a smirk.
By the time he’d pulled up in front of Dusty’s, Tucker had almost convinced himself that
Ajax was right. After all, a man with hang-ups wasn’t the kind of guy he needed to be pursuing.
Even if he was a sexy, dark-haired beast with a wide, tanned prick.
Better if he just didn’t think about it. A round of beers already lined one arm of the bar as
the Water Dogs crowded around to hoot and holler. Ajax stood in the middle of them, one of the
guys and yet ranking above them. Tucker had earned their respect as a soldier. Now he just
needed to earn Ajax’s respect as a man.
He absently rubbed his bruised pec, plastered a smile on his face and strode toward them.
Do or die, Tucker, do or die.
* * * *
Ajax pulled up in front of his house, turned off the ignition and wandered up the front
walk. He’d barely stepped inside when a solid mass pushed past him into the hallway.
“So we’re gonna have this talk now, Ajax.”
Tucker. “I’m your LC, Tucker. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
“After two beers and a shot, you’re just Ajax, the man I got-off with in a mud hut
halfway around the world. Now, I thought I’d let this go, but turns out, I can’t. So clearing the air
is kinda critical.”
Ajax slammed the front door then turned on the interior light. “Were you not listening to
me back at the base? Things done during wartime don’t come home with us.”
“Except when they’re part of who we are.”
“Who you are, maybe. Not me,” Ajax denied vehemently.
Tucker dropped his hands on his hips. He took up more space in the narrow corridor as
though he meant to intimidate Ajax. Ajax folded his arms across his chest. Two could play alpha
dog.
“Deny it, if you want, but I was there. I saw your face. I saw you come. I can’t let that go
until you deal with it.”
“That’s the thing about being a guy, Tucker. Dicks like being tugged on. They don’t give
a shit who’s doing the tugging. You move the right way, and bodies do what bodies do.”
“That’s a nice, pat answer for what happened. Did you practice that?” Tucker asked.
“As I remember it, you tackled me.”
“As I remember it, you stopped fighting me well after you realized what was going on.”
Ajax ducked around him and headed for the kitchen. If Tucker actually wanted to have
this conversation, then they might as well put it to rest once and for all. For that, Ajax was going
to need a lot more alcohol. He hooked two long-necked from the fridge and passed one to
Tucker’s waiting hand.
Tucker unscrewed the top and took a long, watchful draw. When he lowered the bottle,
there was a conflicted look to his face that made Ajax a little wary.
“I didn’t mean to,” Tucker said after a minute. “It’s just something that happened. It’s not
like I relish the idea of outing myself to my LC.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m telling you anyway.”
“Kind of against policy,” Ajax noted taking a quick swallow of brew.
Tucker’s laugh sounded like an airy snort. “So is hazing, but that didn’t stop anyone.”
“That wasn’t hazing. That was the welcome committee.” Ajax smiled back, feeling a
little more relaxed.
“Well, the desert thing could’ve been worse,” Tucker said. “With all the condoms we’re
issued to keep sand out of the weaponry, it could’ve gone a different direction completely.”
Ajax’s smile faded. His stomach flipped and his taint tingled sharply. “Oh, God. You
didn’t just say that.”
Tucker’s eyes sharpened on him. Ajax tried to school his features into something less
readable, but he was afraid the damage was already done. Tucker blindly put his drink on the
counter top and took a step toward him.
“You liked that idea,” he said almost wonderingly.
Ajax backed up. His hips hit the granite island like a cold barricade. “I don’t do guys,” he
rushed to say.
“Really? Have you ever been with a man?”
“No!” he snapped. “I know what I’m interested in.”
“I don’t think you do, LC. I think you thought you knew what you were into until what
happened, happened.” Tucker took another step, his head tilted slightly. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“It’s late. You need to get home.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Last I heard we weren’t shipping out so that means we both have
the day off.”
“It’s late, and we’ve both had too much to drink to be having this discussion.”
Tucker chuckled. “I think that if we hadn’t had anything to drink at all, you’d be saying
that the discussion required alcohol. You’re afraid to talk about this, but it isn’t going away. We
got-off together. That happened. As soon as you deal with that and get over your phobias, there
can be a real discussion of how you feel about our cocks grinding against each other.”
“Shut up, Tucker.”
“Or maybe we can begin to move onto the next stage. Like what you really feel,
viscerally, when I say that going down on you would be even better than a hand job.”
Ajax usually didn’t back down from conflict, but he sidestepped Tucker and tried to
move out of arm’s reach. Tucker merely changed directions, following him as though stalking
his prey.
“Or why you tent your civvies when I suggest that my dick in your ass would feel better
than sex with any of the women you’ve been with.”
“Stop talking, Tucker. I mean it. I’m not having this discussion with you.”
“Yeah, you are because I’m having it in your kitchen, and I’m not leaving until it’s been
addressed.”
“Go home.” Ajax heard the rasp in his request and to him it sounded unconvincing.
Tucker seemed to have the same impression. “I’m going to kiss you, LC. No one’s here
to see it. There’s no potential for another teammate to walk in looking for cover. There’s no
chance of being hit by a bullet or dying in the middle of nowhere. I’m just going to kiss you, and
you’re going to experience it without all the distraction.”
“Tucker…” Ajax warned.
“You’re going to experience it,” he said again more forcefully.
Tucker talked patiently as though to a skittish animal. His tone soothed and somehow that
made Ajax’s pulse leap into a faster staccato.
“And no matter what happens from that, what new ideas form in your mind about what it
all means in some philosophical self-awareness kind of mumbo-jumbo, I’m not going to say a
word to anyone. It’s just us. Just you. Just me. Kissing,” Tucker finished, catching Ajax’s wrist
in a loose, yet steely grip.
His fingers rested comfortably on Ajax’s pulse point. They were both far too trained to
overlook what Tucker’s words were doing to him. Ajax stilled. It was the same way he got right
before he had to breathe out, steady his shot and pull the trigger. Facing the target was the same
in any situation. Sometimes a soldier could avoid it. When he couldn’t, or he was ordered to
engage, he brushed aside his inhibitions and did as the job.
This was like that. He couldn’t get away from Tucker. Tucker continued to cage him in.
He couldn’t get away from his own thoughts as much as he’d wanted to. He had no choice but to
face the target head-on and deal with the repercussions of the task. It gave him purpose to calm
his racing pulse.
It ordered his mind into a clear goal: the kiss. Take a breath, aim, pull the trigger. Fear
had nothing on him. Ajax didn’t wait for Tucker to make the first move. If this was going to
happen, it would happen on his own terms.
Ajax grabbed Tucker’s dog tags and pulled him in. The look of surprise on Tucker’s face
was priceless. Ajax imagined every woman he’d kissed over the years and somehow they
seemed far more distant than this man, this moment.
Tucker’s pale blue eyes became blurry slits. His beer-laced breath touched Ajax’s face
with a hint of warm humidity as their mouths touched. He tried to experience the kiss clinically,
taking note of similarities and differences between this kiss and others. It took a split second for
him to realize there was no comparison.
Tucker’s mouth glided across his, slick and soft. He patiently seemed to wait Ajax out,
not pushing him further than he was willing to go on his own. Ajax appreciated that. The
confrontation had been uncomfortable, but now that Tucker was getting what he wanted, he let
Ajax move at his own pace.
Maybe it was the beer or being alone in a silent house without artillery shells falling
outside or sniper fire; maybe it was the settling creaks of the house, or the feel of the man’s chest
inches from his own, but comfort, familiarity and peace soothed him. The world hadn’t fallen
around them and no one charged in demanding an explanation. There was nothing but the here
and now in a rare blessing military life didn’t often afford.
He let go of the dog tags, easing one hand behind Tucker’s neck. Tiny shaved hairs
tickled his palm and he realized he needed that warmth. Touching Tucker brought new
sensations to flutter at Ajax’s middle. So much more humanizing than the hard-edged flats of
imprinted metal, Ajax wanted more of the man and less of the things that would remind him to
keep himself at a distance.
Their lips came apart a hair’s breadth, but it was only for an instant during which Ajax
felt magnetically drawn to close the space and repeat the chaste kiss they’d already shared. It was
new, exciting. Kissing Tucker just felt right. Ajax threw the rest of his inhibitions to the side,
needing to know just how far instinct took him when it came to Tucker.
He tipped his head slightly, trying to get better contact. His hand behind Tucker’s neck
pulled for firmer contact and his other arm wrapped around Tucker’s torso. Tucker’s murmur of
satisfaction turned him on. Tucker, the man who’d stoically answered him in nods during the
desert mission. Tucker, who’d stood silently and proudly as every member of the troop
hammered his bruising chest with the trident patch of the Navy SEALs. Tucker, who challenged
Ajax to think for himself outside the realm of the expected. Tucker, who made him want more
than Ajax knew how to ask for, was now relegated to trembling hands and soft moans because
Ajax had chosen to kiss him. The thought turned Ajax’s brain to mush.
Almost tentatively, Tucker curled his fingers on Ajax’s hips and brought their pelvises
together. Ajax shuddered at the heady feel of Tucker’s cock warming his own through layers of
clothing. Too many layers, Ajax thought. But thinking it and making it happen were too far apart
just yet.
Tucker didn’t seem to be of the same mind. He fisted Ajax’s shirt hem and drew it up
over his head, temporarily breaking the kiss, only to find it again. Ajax grew impatient when it
happened again, this time for Tucker’s shirt. He didn’t want to stop kissing Tucker. He’d just
discovered this, and he wasn’t finished exploring the fine edge of lust that set his mind into tilt.
Ajax grew tired of soft lips and the hint of parted mouths. There was more just out of
reach and Ajax meant to get it.
He opened over Tucker. Tucker followed suit, matching him only as far as Ajax wanted
to go. But one taste of the other man, and Ajax knew he was done-for. Tucker tasted like sex.
Like the hot stolen moments in the desert. Like salty, hops-flavored sin sucking Ajax into a black
hole of drunken need and desire. Was it possible to drown in another man, Ajax wondered?
Because if it was, he didn’t want a life preserver.
Tucker’s tongue tangled with his. Ajax’s mouth felt full and somehow not full enough.
He opened wider, drawing Tucker deep and instinctively suckling. Tucker groaned. The sound
became another layer of sensation in an already devastating kiss.
Ajax didn’t think, he merely followed need. And right now he needed there to be less
clothing between his cock and Tucker’s. The back of his hand brushed Tucker’s fly. The other
man moaned against Ajax’s lips, but he didn’t stop him. Didn’t do anything at all.
He slipped the jean button from its hole. The rasp of the zipper sliding down brought
goose bumps to Ajax’s skin. Yes, this is what he wanted. He reached inside, taking hold of
Tucker’s cock through his boxers before getting tired of that and reaching inside the overlapped
opening.
There, God, there! It was hard and thick and smooth as silk. Tucker was cut and Ajax
traced the flared rim with the tip of his thumb.
Tucker broke the kiss and buried his face in Ajax’s neck, placing sucking kisses on the
curve to his shoulder. But Ajax wanted lips on his. He grabbed the scruff of Tucker’s neck and
forced him to up until Ajax could feel the slick slide of Tucker’s mouth again.
He pumped Tucker’s cock a few times, surreally realizing that he had his hands on
another man’s dick, and it didn’t bother him. What he felt was hunger. Driving, thought-
obliterating hunger. Tucker rocked against him, uttering a curse and a blessing against Ajax’s
lips as Ajax continued to demand that he respond to his touch. The tip weeped, and Ajax felt his
own cock respond in kind.
Tucker’s hands swept up Ajax’s back, then slowly down to his ass. Their chests bumped
and cooler metal brought Ajax’s mind to sharp focus. He broke the kiss, pulling back a few
inches to get his bearings.
“Everything all right?” Tucker murmured, as breathless as Ajax felt.
How did he answer? He met Tucker’s concerned blue-eyed gaze not sure if he should
admit that he was better than fine, or if being fine meant Ajax he wasn’t fine at all. Actually the
opposite of fine for kissing him, stroking another man’s dick and liking it.
“I don’t know,” he settled on.
He dropped his gaze to the broad shoulders in front of him and the puckered scar where
Tucker had taken a bullet to save Ajax’s life. It was still pink with the freshness of the wound.
Eventually it would fade to silvery-white. Would that happen with this experience? Would it be
fresh and raw for the moment and then fade over time as being nothing more than a sharp
memory of something that had once happened to him? Did he want that?
“You’re still confused,” Tucker observed.
“Shouldn’t I be?” Ajax asked a little angrily. “Shouldn’t I question a couple of things
about this?”
Tucker lifted a shoulder. Not his injured one, Ajax noted, but it was a shrug all the same.
“What’s bothering you?” Tucker dropped his hands, tucked himself away and took a step
back.
Ajax took a deep breath, both relieved at the space and feeling loss for it. “It’s out of the
realm of ordinary.”
“Not in my experience. Pretty normal to me,” Tucker offered.
“You know it isn’t for me. That’s what I mean.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
Ajax thought of all the ways a relationship with Tucker, with any man, could go horribly
wrong for his military career. The SEALs were his brothers. The Water Dogs were his family.
He doubted he’d be able to call them that if this got out.
“Don’t you worry about people finding out?” Ajax asked.
Tucker sighed and backed up to the island. He propped his hands on the edge and leaned
back. “Sometimes. I may be gay, but I’m not promiscuous. I’m not going to jump every man on
the team.” He grinned suddenly. “Just the man I want in an unplanned moment.”
Ajax scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s not that easy. This is not that easy.”
Tucker sobered. “You don’t have to explain that to me. I live it.”
“It could mean my career, and I don’t even know if I want this.”
“Hey, put it in perspective,” Tucker urged. “It was a kiss with a little exploration. No one
saw you. I’m not asking you for anything but a fair chance to yourself at exploring something
you might be into.”
“You aren’t trying to hook up with me,” Ajax stated rather than asked.
The grin returned easily. So did the casual shrug. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be interested.
It’s pretty evident how much I’d like that,” he said. “I’m the one leaving with blue balls here,
and I think I’m being a pretty good sport about it. You need to quit freaking out and look at this
rationally.”
“By all means, explain, L-t.” Ajax said el-tee to make his point.
“What happened over there wasn’t typical of me. I don’t leap out of character. I don’t
mess around with guys who don’t broadcast their sexual preferences in some way. It’s not
something I do. Not here and not in the Iraqi desert.”
“But you did.”
“I know, and I still don’t get it. But it happened, and we’re both dealing with it.”
“Is getting me to touch you your way of keeping me from reporting your wartime
behavior?” Ajax asked.
Tucker sighed. “My gay isn’t contagious, LC.”
Ajax felt stupid. Of course it wasn’t. It’s not what he’d meant even if it’s how it sounded.
Tucker put him at ease. “Actually, I’m trying to figure a few things out for myself.”
“Like?”
“Why I went after you. Why you let me. Why I’m here, on this base, in this team, and
why I’m still not sure how I feel about the moment in Iraq.”
“I don’t have those answers.”
“I know,” Tucker said. “But I’m more likely to figure it out with you than without.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s too much at risk. Even if I swung that way, it
would be ill-advised for a lot of reasons.”
“I hate to break it to you, LC, but you can call it curiosity or long-term sexual frustration
that led you to the point of coming in the desert. You still came because a man had your dick in
his hand. There’s no hiding that you liked it. And there’s no hiding that without those extreme
circumstances, you liked it just fine a few minutes ago. I think what you need to assess is how
much. You swing that way, but how high does that swing go?”
Ajax opened his mouth to speak. Words failed him.
“You know what else isn’t normal, since you wanted to discuss normal? Kissing another
man because you’re convinced you’re straight, and then actively stroking him off.” Tucker
picked up his shirt and pulled it on. “I think what you should be asking yourself is, why does
kissing me turn you on? I’m a good kisser, and I’d like to flatter myself that I could arouse any
man I wanted to, but it just doesn’t work that way.”
Tucker moved in close, his mouth inches from Ajax’s. His voice dropped to a low, husky
pitch.
“I like you, LC. You make me hot and a little crazy. I’d like to see if there’s something
here, but I’m not an experiment, and I’m not into games. Let me know when you figure yourself
out and are ready to jump in this ocean with both Frog-feet.”
Ajax still had nothing intelligent to offer. Except that he wanted to kiss him again, touch
him again. Fortunately for Ajax’s sanity, Tucker turned and walked out of his house before Ajax
could make that telling move. Kissing him would only provide an invitation Ajax wasn’t sure he
could follow up on.
But he did want to kiss him again. And that was more shocking to Ajax than the stint in
the desert or his hand in Tucker’s pants. Kissing made it personal.
Chapter Four
Tucker spent the next week keeping a low profile. He didn’t do anything that would draw
attention to himself or encroach on Ajax’s territory. He followed orders and showed up for
meetings. He went to the bar with the other Water Dogs, tossed back shots and threw darts.
On the firing range, he steadied himself on his belly and aimed for the target half a mile
away and pegged it neatly every time. When the guys hung out in the team room, Tucker was
there too, interacting and paying attention, but keeping his usual guard up so that no one
suspected his growing infatuation for the Lieutenant Commander.
A few times, Tucker had excused himself to the bathroom to pull it together, calm his
arousal and remind himself that Ajax held the cards. It wasn’t easy. Tucker was used to pursuing
his men when he had the go-ahead, but that was the problem. Ajax hadn’t given him any
deliberate sign that an approach was advisable.
There were little things. Things where if they weren’t coming from an alpha-dog SEAL,
and the two weren’t anywhere near base, Tucker would move in on. Like the look that didn’t
quite hold, or the way Ajax made sure they weren’t left alone, but seemed to find reasons to
touch him. A brush of arms, a nudge while laughing or the pensive frown he wore when Tucker
caught him looking. He’d give anything to pick the man’s brain and know what he was thinking.
Fullerton bumped his shoulder with Tucker’s, bringing him back to the bar scene. “This
is prime pussy real estate. The Frog-catchers are out tonight. Which one are you taking home,
Tucker?”
Frog-catcher, the name the guys gave to the women who frequented the bar for some
quality SEAL time. Aware that Ajax had heard the question and taken note, Tucker took a slow
perusal of the bar.
“I like brunettes,” he said as though talking to himself.
“There’re two over there with some blondes,” Treeton pointed out needlessly.
“Yeah, and they’re looking this way,” Kroane added. “If you don’t hump one of them,
I’ll take them both home.”
“What does he usually go for?” Choke asked Kroane.
Kroane seemed to give it some thought. “You know, I can’t remember the last time he
got laid.”
“Shut the fuck up, Kroane. What do you know?” Tucker said laughing. “Just because I
don’t parade them in front of the team doesn’t mean I don’t get tail.”
“Fine, but you’re looking a little tense these days, and you’re going to get a wrist sprain if
you keep jacking off in the team room showers,” Geldman teased. He clinked shot glasses with
Loughly, the other new Water Dog Geldman had transferred in with.
Tucker laughed because it was all talk with no substance. He kept his masturbatory
activities as private as he kept his conquests. Ajax remained suspiciously quiet throughout the
banter. Tucker was tired of waiting for him to come around. He wanted the LC, but the days
dragged on and his bed remained empty. He might as well put any rumors to rest before they
started by getting some attention from a willing participant in the process.
The women had been keenly aware of the group of muscled men eyeing them. He
supposed that’s because they’d come for just such a purpose. Tucker stood slowly to his full six-
foot-five height. He knew his size was a big part of his appeal to women. He straightened his
shoulders keeping his eyes locked on the curviest of the five women across the bar, because if he
was going to kiss a woman, he was going to pick the one who looked the least convinced of her
success. The wallflowers always touched a soft spot.
Her eyes widened when he didn’t look away at one of her companions. She had lots to
hold onto. Soft hips and full breasts, she’d fill his arms when he put them around her, and he
liked that. Her girlfriends immediately leaned toward her, chattering like a passel of birds. The
guys behind him tossed barbs at his back.
He sure hoped Ajax was watching. He also hoped Ajax stewed with jealousy.
Tucker reached the woman, took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Hey, beautiful. It’s
not typically my style to meet a woman at a bar, but you have the most amazing lips. Do they
taste as good as they look?” he asked.
“I—I wasn’t going to come tonight,” she stuttered tangentially.
“I’m glad you did. You’re wrapped up in charm, sweetheart, and I’m not going to hear
the end of it from those assholes behind me if I don’t do exactly what I’ve been thinking about
doing since I first saw you.”
He didn’t give her time to react or for her friends to twitter flirtations about buying them
a round. He ignored the plea that he introduce them to his friends. Tucker swept her into his arms
and kissed her full on the lips.
Soft and smooshy, her mouth felt nothing like kissing a man. He pushed it from his mind,
dipping her as he imagined it was Ajax he kissed instead. He pressed his tongue deep. The
woman threw her arms around him and mewled like a woman does when she’s surprised and
overwhelmed. The image of Ajax disappeared like smoke in the wind.
Tucker brought her upright, gave her a soft closing kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“You deserve a lot better than a SEAL who can’t commit and a handful of one-night stands.”
“Maybe she wants a one-nighter,” one of her girlfriends pestered.
He looked at the others blankly then frowned. “Nah. A woman like this deserves a man
who’s going to love her right. You won’t find that in a bar on a Naval base.” He sent his kissing
partner a wink and a smile then returned to the table where his teammates waited.
Tucker sent her a drink and got back to the business of being tormented by his friends.
“Why didn’t you take her home?” Kroane asked exasperated.
“She deserves better than a guy like me,” Tucker answered.
“I don’t think she cared,” Fullerton pointed out.
Tucker grinned. “But I do. That’s what counts.”
He shot a sideways glance at Ajax who scowled into his beer and looked utterly confused
about why he was scowling. Good, he thought. Ajax needed a shake up. Tucker would kiss every
woman in the bar if it got Ajax thinking.
“I think I’ll head out,” Tucker said after draining his glass. “See you guys on Monday.”
He got up to leave. Ajax stood too.
“I think I’m bed-bait too. Hold up a sec, and I’ll walk out with you.” Ajax shrugged on
his jacket and said goodbye to the guys.
Tucker waited for him. They exited, leaving the stale air of the bar behind for fresh night
breeze.
“What the fuck was that?” Ajax asked under his breath the minute he saw that they were
alone in the parking lot.
Tucker grinned, letting Ajax see his amusement. “You’ve forgotten already? That was a
kiss. The same thing I did a week ago with someone else.”
“I know what it was, Tucker. Why was it on her?”
“As opposed to…you?” he asked enjoying Ajax’s annoyance.
Ajax swung his head around, apparently checking for anyone who might’ve overhead
Tucker’s dig. “Shh! You can’t say shit like that out here.”
“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to say it in the bar. I like my gay-nonymity,” Tucker
joked.
“Whatever,” Ajax snapped.
Tucker sighed and took hold of Ajax’s upper arm to steer him into the darkest area of the
lot. When they got there, he let Ajax go.
“What?” Tucker asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing. You’re acting like a jealous girlfriend, but I know that’s impossible.
You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m not supposed to come near you in anyway resembling
intimacy. So, what’s the problem?”
Ajax glared at him, his eyes glinting in the shadows conveying his irritation almost as
forcefully as his body language.
“Are you a cock-tease, LC?” Tucker asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care you who fuck, just make up your mind and stick to it.”
“Why? I mean, if you don’t care then what does it matter if I play on both fields to
appease the guys?” Tucker wondered.
“That girl is going to leave here thinking you were hot for her. How do you think that’ll
make her feel?”
Tucker laughed. “Do you even hear yourself? She’s always going to have that. It’s not
like I’m going to tell her I’m gay, and she never had a chance. She’s always going to believe she
was the prettiest of her friends tonight.”
“But it’s a lie!” Ajax sputtered.
“No, it isn’t. She was the prettiest in my eyes.”
“But you’ll never follow through!” Ajax continued his protest.
Tucker couldn’t make heads or tails of the conversation. If he didn’t follow through, what
did it matter to the LC? Ajax didn’t want him to get any closer, or so he said. Getting close to
someone else should have been a non-issue.
“Ajax,” Tucker began. “Do you want me?”
“I’m not gay.”
“Forget that for a minute. I’m not labeling you. Are you angry because you know I’m
gay, and it bugs you to see me acting straight? Or is it because I went from kissing you, which
makes you uncomfortable, to kissing a woman? Or is it because,” Tucker asked exasperated with
the line of discussion, “you’re straight and keep coming onto me?”
“I want you to make up your mind.” Ajax shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It
was the closest thing to a pace Tucker had seen the other man do. Ajax normally hid his
agitation.
“For a guy with a lot of natural sense, you aren’t making any.”
Ajax grunted with frustration. He looked over his shoulder toward the bar. The lot had
burst with noise from time to time as people exited, laughed then climbed in their cars to leave. It
was all background to their conversation, but Ajax seemed to be having trouble giving Tucker
his full attention.
“We could go somewhere else to talk,” Tucker suggested.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I don’t buy it. Your head is buzzing so loudly I can hear it.”
“Does any part of you like women?” Ajax asked after a moment.
“Sure. I like women. They’re beautiful, powerful and complex. I just don’t happen to be
sexually attracted to them.”
“At all?” Ajax pressed.
“At all,” Tucker agreed.
“And that’s the problem. I think women are incredibly sexy. I like tiny breasts with
prominent nipples. I like long legs and tight asses. I like women. I fuck women.”
“Hm. Well, LC, I like flat chests and nipples too. I like long, strong legs and tight asses.
But I fuck men. I fuck them hard. I fuck them long into the night and sometimes, when I go
down on them, they cry like women. I’ve picked my poison. I’ll tell you what I think your
problem is.”
“Please share,” Ajax snarked.
“You thought you knew what you wanted because that’s what you had. I threw your
world into a spin. Your problem is that there’s something new you like, and you don’t know
what it means. You keep trying to define it. You keep telling me you don’t want me, but you
shove your hand down my pants like you do. You keep threatening to make up your own mind.
Find the time to do it already.”
Tucker took a couple of steps backward and withdrew his car keys before continuing.
“Let me make this easy on you, LC. I’ll take myself out of the picture. You don’t have to decide
if you like men because I’m lurking around waiting for an answer. You don’t have to make the
decision if it’s me you like kissing or the newness of kissing men. All you have to do is go back
to your life the way you were living it and decide if it’s still as great as you thought it was before
we ever met in the desert.”
Tucker swallowed bitterly. He’d been in enough relationships with closet-cases to know
when he was losing a battle. No matter what Ajax decided about himself, he’d attach the decision
to Tucker as though Tucker was to blame. As though Tucker forced him to it.
No thanks.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Ajax all but shouted.
“Why doesn’t it? Make your own terms. As far as the two of us goes, I’m not going to try
to convince you of anything. I’m gay. I’m secure in that. I don’t need to turn you like some
experimental college kid. I also don’t have to explain myself to you. Not where it concerns men
and not where it concerns women.”
Tucker pivoted on his heel and headed toward his car.
“Tucker,” Ajax called after him. “Tucker!”
Tucker stopped and looked back. “What is it, LC?”
Ajax just stood. Tucker couldn’t see his face, only his shadowed profile at this distance.
“Monday at oh-eight-hundred,” Ajax said.
Tucker jerked his head in a nod and walked away. Seemed he’d been doing a lot of that.
God, it hurt. All that walking toward Ajax, thinking things would develop only to realize he’d
been living a fantasy. Now there was nothing left but to leave the man alone.
Seeing Ajax everyday would be hell, but Tucker couldn’t play the touch-me-don’t-touch-
me game anymore. He had far more self-respect than that.
Chapter Five
Ajax walked behind the Water Dogs as they bellied up on the ground and took aim at a
target almost impossible to see with the naked eye. In the distance, a reflective surface tweaked
white in the sunlight and the grasshoppers fiddled their hearts out.
Sweat scrolled down his temples and dampened the hair above his ears, matting it to his
scalp. Ajax twisted off the lid of his water bottle and slugged back several long pulls.
His men were in top form. Sea, Air and Land. This week, they were drilling the Land part
of the SEAL name. Next week, they’d be testing the limits of their diving endurance by
practicing underwater anti-detonation protocol.
It had been more than a week since he’d spoken to Tucker in the parking lot. He’d
expected the man to come around his house to test Ajax again but he hadn’t. For the first several
days, Ajax had tensed when the phone rang or the doorbell chimed.
After that, he’d taken to wondering. It interfered with his work. He’d be in the middle of
tactical exercise planning and drift off to question why Tucker hadn’t dropped a hint or a vague
reference. All the guys slipped in and out of formality depending on what was called for. Tucker
did it with ease, too. He laughed with the others. He tossed barbs and teased about their training
like one of the guys. And he was tough as nails.
Nothing broke Tucker. It was as though there’d never been anything between them. The
desert hadn’t happened and neither had the kitchen. Ajax might as well just be another guy,
Tucker a chick-hungry SEAL.
Which pissed him off, frankly. A man should behave a certain way when he was gay,
shouldn’t he? There wasn’t a hint of his orientation at any time. If he didn’t know better, Ajax
would have begun to think he’d invented the whole thing. Tucker continued to be one tough
motherfucker. One of the manliest sons of bitches Ajax had ever met.
It just didn’t sit right that he was gay. It messed with Ajax’s head. He considered himself
a solid SOB, too. Just like he’d considered himself to be a manly man. What fucked with him
was that he couldn’t understand how all those aspects together could still be true and still also be
Tucker.
Ajax kicked Fullerton’s boot, challenging him to lose his concentration. Fullerton took
the shot. Ajax put the scope to his eye and saw that he’d tagged it perfectly.
“Water Dogs. Pack your gear and hump it in!” Ajax barked.
Ten miles out and ten miles back. The men were grimy, and while they wouldn’t
complain, he knew they weren’t having fun. Ajax was twistedly pleased to be sharing his misery
with the rest of them. He grabbed his gear too, called them together and led out.
Kroane started in on an Army mock-chant. “Treeton’s cock is mighty spry.”
“Treeton’s cock is mighty spry,” the men shouted back.
“Got his girl with just one try!”
The team shouted the answer, chuckling at rhyme. They’d found out that morning that
Treeton’s girlfriend was pregnant.
“Tucker needs to get some play!” Treeton picked up the rhythm.
“Tucker needs to get some play!”
“Fists his joystick every day.”
Ajax couldn’t help but smile as the men went through the roster slamming each other as
they jogged back to base. Fucking loved his men, he thought, his heart swelling with pride and
brotherhood.
The men seemed more amped than usual as they got back to the team room and hit the
showers. Ajax wondered if they’d treat Tucker any differently should they find out he was gay.
There’d be initial discomfort, but they were too close to not get over it.
So why couldn’t Ajax? Why couldn’t he just let it go and let Tucker do his thing? Why
couldn’t he get past the few memories he’d had with just the two of them? Why did it make a
difference in how he thought? And why the fuck hadn’t Tucker tried to talk to him again?
“Tucker,” Ajax said before he’d realized he’d spoken.
“LC?”
Now what? He hadn’t actually meant to call his name, but the others were looking
expectantly at Ajax with half-formed smiles like they thought he’d throw a verbal jab they could
all laugh about.
“Shower up and meet me in the booth. Choke, I want to see you tomorrow before
training.” Ajax decided meeting in the small glass-windowed corner of the team room was safest.
Yeah, that’s it. Make it look all official. The trick was coming up with something to talk
to Choke about. He could pass off Tucker by asking if everything was going okay for him. That
would work.
Fuck. The whole Tucker thing was completely screwing with his mind. He needed it
sorted or stopped. He couldn’t do his job this way.
Ajax ran a hand through his hair, grabbed a towel and hit the showers with his
teammates. He’d just keep his eyes away from Tucker. He dressed the same way and pulled out a
chair in the space they guys called the booth for its small size and segregated set-up.
One by one, the men left until only Tucker remained. He stepped into the booth.
“No one else is here. We could sit out in the team room,” Tucker noted.
“I don’t need anyone overhearing. That’s the purpose of this thing. Soundproofing for
individual missions.”
“I know, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine the look on your face having anything to
do with top-secret base training.”
Ajax felt his lips twist downward. “What does my look tell you?”
“You’re distracted.” Tucker pulled up a chair adjacent to Ajax. His blue eyes narrowed.
“This has nothing to do with training, does it?”
“I just wanted to know how you’re holding up. Has the transition gone smoothly from
Skins to Water Dogs?” Ajax asked.
An enigmatic smile curved Tucker’s lips. “It’s good, LC. Real good.”
“No off-site hazing I need to know about?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Ajax felt baffled by his own indecision. He should just tell Tucker that was all
and send him on his way. Yet he didn’t want Tucker to leave. He didn’t know what to do with
that.
“Anything else?” Tucker hedged.
“No.”
Tucker started to rise.
“I mean, yes.”
Tucker sat again. He lifted his brows, waiting for Ajax to continue. Ajax didn’t actually
have anything more to say.
“Sir?” Tucker urged quietly when the silence grew too long.
“Has there been any discussion about your after-hours interests?” Ajax asked, thinking
that was a good question.
“Nope.”
“Any suspicions bandied about that need squashing?”
Tucker still wore his bemused smile, but now his brows pulled together as though he was
waiting to see where the line of questioning would go.
“Nope. All good,” Tucker answered.
“Good.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
Ajax zeroed in on that. “Pretty much? But there’s something I need to handle?” he asked
quickly.
“No. Everything’s fine. No one knows and if they do, they haven’t said anything.”
“They seemed to notice that you aren’t getting laid enough. The hike-chant,” Ajax
referenced.
Tucker gave a humorless laugh. “LC, what do you really want to know?”
“I’m making sure all is copasetic.”
“I said it was. Why don’t you just spit it out? This isn’t why you called me in here,”
Tucker told him.
“Then why did I call you in here, soldier?”
“Unofficially?” Tucker waited for Ajax to nod before continuing. “You don’t know what
to make of me. You’re hoping that by asking me a slew of unimportant questions, you’ll figure it
out. But here’s how I see it, LC. You gotta make your own decisions. I don’t want the
responsibility.”
Tucker got up. Ajax didn’t think. He got up and made a grab for Tucker. His foot caught
the chair leg and he wound up plastering himself against Tucker in the confined space. Ajax
thought he might get sick. His stomach flipped and his heart raced too fast.
He looked up as he steadied himself. That was the mistake. Tucker’s blue eyes looked
back calmly, like they knew what he was thinking, but he’d keep the secret to himself. Being this
close, feeling Tucker against him, reminded him of all the stolen moments he’d been trying to
forget and get over.
Ajax lifted his chin. He mouth hovered for just a second as his thoughts crashed into one
another and fell apart. Then in the first clear thought he’d had in days, Ajax fitted his mouth over
Tucker’s. It felt like the perfect answer. His mind calmed. This is what he’d wanted.
At first, Tucker didn’t make an effort. He received. Ajax trapped Tucker’s bottom lip
between his teeth and pulled. Tucker came to life instantly. He grabbed Ajax by the waist and
pulled him tightly to his body. Ajax made an embarrassing sound too close to a whimper to be
acknowledged.
He fought the weak sound with hard, demanding lips, as he took command of the kiss,
parting Tucker’s mouth to invade him. Ajax needed this. He shook with it, and his cock rose
without any of the same seesawing Ajax’s mind had played all week.
Sound registered seconds too late. Ajax jumped back, but as he looked through the paned
glass, the Water Dogs stared back, utterly silent.
Tucker turned his head to see what Ajax was looking at. “Shit.”
“Who’s gonna lose at darts to me?” Treeton bellowed, joining the group a little late. “Fu-
ck me!” he said, echoing the shock on the faces of the others.
Tucker opened the booth door and left the team room.
“We decided to hang out here for drinks and cards tonight,” Kroane offered lamely.
“As you were,” Ajax rasped, his cheeks burning. He ducked his head and left too.
* * * *
Commanding Officer Hogg’s rough bark crossed the phone line early the next morning.
Tucker glanced at the clock. Three hours of sleep. That’s what he was working with. He tried not
to yawn into the receiver.
“Water Dogs are shipping out today at oh-nine-thirty. Meet your Lieutenant Commander
for instructions ASAP!”
“Yes, sir!”
Tucker threw on his clothes and made it to the base in ten minutes. He’d been hoping for
more time than this before facing the team. No such luck.
Ajax gave them the run-down. They were being shipped out for a missile recon on a
downed prototype sub carrying new weaponry. The sub had last been seen in the Persian Gulf
and sonar had placed it on the cusp of international waters, but still within foreign territory. They
could lose the sub to bureaucratic possession. If they didn’t get to it first, top secret measures
would have been breached.
The men listened in standard silence. Ajax then provided the parameters of their
recovery. Ajax paused.
“Is there anything we need to air out before we leave? Any team business you need to put
at rest?” he asked.
No one spoke. He gave them a full minute before sending them home to pack for
immediate departure. But to Tucker, that silence had been pregnant. He didn’t feel good about
this. When the team broke, it was the first time they didn’t banter and joke to lighten the tension.
Tucker packed his bag numbly. He didn’t know what to think about the team, about Ajax.
All had been smooth sailing until Ajax had kissed him. And the team had seen. He cleaned up,
hoping the hot water would wash away some of the tiredness, but it only left him feeling more
drained. He dressed in his fatigues and cap, shouldered his bag and headed to the hanger for his
weapons.
The rest of the team filtered in, still silent. He was struck again by the difference in them.
Then again, he’d never been to war with these men or this team. He could compare them to the
Skins all he wanted to—that didn’t make them the same. The high-stakes nature of their mission
could be all the reason they needed to focus silently on the tasks at hand.
And not the fact that he’d been caught kissing the LC with a pole in his pants.
They landed on a secured airstrip in the middle of the night. They’d been given night-
vision goggles, and all lights were extinguished as soon as the plane was down. Grabbing their
gear, the Water Dogs humped it to covered truck that whisked them off to their temporary digs.
In the morning, they’d catch a Naval Seahawk to the USS Ferber staking out their dive-spot, just
inside International waters.
No one talked in the tent that night either. The Water Dogs kept to themselves, eating in
the mess hall with stationed troops before hitting the sack. There were looks, Tucker realized.
Sideways looks and speculative looks, but no words.
They were all fucked if no one started the conversation, yet Tucker couldn’t bring
himself to do it. The longer he waited, the angrier he got. He wasn’t a pariah, damn it. He was
good at his job. But from coming on to Ajax to coming out to the team, there had been nothing
but a series of partial-rejections and constant explaining of who he was.
Who he fucked had nothing to do with how well he served his country.
Evidently, it wasn’t an opinion shared by everyone. Not that he hadn’t known. Of course
he knew. Gay men in service had learned that the activity of their cocks was a direct indicator or
their military performance. Well, fuck that!
He rolled into his cot, facing away from the others. He didn’t feel like fielding the stares
and unspoken questions.
Ajax had chosen the cot farthest from him. That was fucking fine, too.
Someone coughed.
“Well,” Treeton’s familiar voice piped up. “At least I know Tucker and Ajax have a
vested interest in saving my fine ass.”
The tension broke. Everyone laughed. Tucker joined in, grateful for the relief.
“Good night, Choke. Good night Fullerton. Good night Ajax, Good night Treeton,”
Kroane began, as though reliving an episode of The Waltons. He ran down the list of teammates.
“Good night John-boy,” Tucker added for good measure.
Someone groaned and threw a combat boot. Tucker laughed again.
Chapter Six
The next day, Tucker hit the water and followed the dive line down. Above him the ocean
swayed like a glassy light-blue mirror. Below, endless night swallowed the line. Fullerton’s fins
preceded him. Tucker left the line where it touched bottom and swam the hundred yards to the
sub.
This was the part the American public didn’t know. That just because the troops were
fighting in a desert on the other side of the world, it didn’t mean that water warfare didn’t still
exist. The sub had a hole in it. Still, the closer he got, the clearer the picture became.
The explosion had come from the inside, peeling the hull outward in a starburst. The sub
hadn’t stood a chance. Tucker hoped the crew had made it out safely with the least number of
casualties. Judging from the open escape hatch midway down the body of the sub, there had been
an effort to evacuate.
Ajax, already onsite, maneuvered around the underwater ROV. The first of several
expandable balloons was inserted into the blown hole. If they couldn’t raise it, they’d have to
explode it. That’s all they knew. The particulars had been kept from the report. And really, what
did it matter as long as Uncle Sam got his toy back safe and sound?
It felt like he’d been down only minutes when someone tagged his shoulder to go topside
and switch out with another team member. Reluctantly, he surfaced. His next shift would be after
dark, when they would know which of the two options they’d have to take with the sub.
Ajax pulled off his rebreather first. Tucker followed suit. Fullerton and Choke, on deck,
were heading toward the mess hall.
“Down again in four hours,” Ajax said, walking away.
“LC,” Tucker called after him.
Ajax waited for Tucker to catch up. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Anything that puts advanced weaponry in the hands of our enemies can’t be labeled,
good.”
“I mean the booth.” Tucker kept walking, looking straight ahead as they hit the door that
would take them below deck.
“It’s bad.”
“Does the CO know?”
“Not yet. Someone’s bound to report it though. Telling him first would be the honorable
thing to do.”
Tucker clamped his jaw then huffed as he swung around in the cramped corridor. “The
honorable thing would be to tell me first,” Tucker snapped.
Ajax’s brows pulled together. “What the fuck are you on about now, Tucker?”
“You’re amped to tell the CO what went down in the booth, but you’ve neglected to fill
in your cohort. Don’t you think I should know what happened before you go spilling your guts to
the CO?”
“C’mon.” Ajax laughed tightly. He slapped Tucker on the shoulder and pushed past him.
“You were there. You know what happened.” Ajax walked on, leaving Tucker where he stood.
Except Tucker wasn’t having it. He didn’t like games, and this one had long lost its
appeal. Either the man wanted him or he didn’t. Tucker deserved an answer. He trudged after the
LC straight to the rack room.
Tucker kept his mouth shut as he warmed up and dressed. Too many seamen were
sleeping on the bunks for them to have a safe conversation. It was the same in the mess hall, and
coming back to catch a couple of winks before the next shift, didn’t afford him the opportunity to
talk to Ajax either. There just wasn’t a place to catch a man alone on a ship, damn it.
Tucker didn’t remember falling asleep, but his watch alarm woke him for his next shift.
He dressed in his wetsuit and met with the team coming in and the others waiting for their turn to
discuss the situation with Ajax.
“She’s gotta get blown,” Ajax said.
Behind Tucker, Treeton mumbled, “That’s what he said.” Tucker took a step back, his
heel grinding Treeton’s toes before the shit-comment could be registered by anyone else.
“It was a joke,” Treeton whispered.
Ajax paused. “Attention forward, Lt. Treeton. I know you’re tired but the state of our
presence in the Middle East could be greatly affected by what we do here tonight.”
The words were delivered calmly, yet there was nothing easy-going about the deadly look
in Ajax’s eyes.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Treeton appeased.
“Group A will go down to install the forward torpedo detonation packs along the blast
site to the pump room at mid-ship. Group B, you’ll go down simultaneously placing detonation
packs from the aft torpedo tubes and propeller shaft to the crow’s nest. Heavy concentration on
the forward blast area. There should be nothing but twisted metal when we’re done.”
Ajax pointed at the diagram on the table they were huddled around.
“Team C, you’ll be finishing your decompression time when the first two are completing
their assignments. You’ll set the sonar charges, alert the USS Ferber to retreat once you’re back
on deck. Then we blow this sonofabitch.”
The first two teams deployed. Ajax went to the forward section of the sub. Tucker’s team
hit the propellers. The trickier, more secret section was with Ajax. He knew Ajax had separated
them on purpose, but he’d do his job well.
Ajax had their explosives specialist on his team. But it didn’t stop Tucker from worrying.
He kept looking over to make sure the installment stayed on track. Tucker trained his attention
back on the job at hand. He supposed this was why you should never serve with your lover. Not
that they were lovers.
Tucker glanced over again. The glow of underwater lights moving alongside the hulking
mass of metal reassured him.
He should wipe Ajax from his mind. He should let it go and get on with his job. Like
planting highly explosive devices on a submarine deep in the Persian Gulf with millions of tons
of water on top of them.
Sure. No pressure.
Tucker secured another device and moved mid-ship. He chanced another look at Ajax
and didn’t see him. None of the team looked alarmed though, and he remembered that some of
the devices needed to be placed inside.
His heart caught as every fear of what could go wrong flashed before Tucker’s eyes. He
squeezed them closed and concentrated on the sound of his rebreather. The hallow hush of air
flowing in and out moving too quickly. Tucker made himself take longer, deeper breaths and felt
his pulse rate return to normal range.
He opened his eyes and looked again. No sign of Ajax, but there was another diver—
looked like Kroane’s characteristic triple-flutter kick as he kept himself even with the blast hole.
Kroane left the hole calmly enough, swimming out of a circle of light.
See, Tucker? Everything’s fine. Shake it off.
By the time he’d reached the crow’s nest, his group worked alongside Ajax’s. Ajax had
made several appearances with a dive bag. He’d attached them to the ROV and finally motioned
to the ROV camera that it should surface.
Tucker supposed he’d been collecting whatever information or debris he’d been ordered
to. As he watched, Ajax pulled a detonation device from his belt and disappeared inside again.
Something didn’t feel right. The Water Dogs were in a war zone, inside International
water space. The presence of the USS Ferber topside would have alerted enemy intelligence.
Considering how many hours they’d been up and down. There should have been evidence of
enemy forces converging on the site. It didn’t make sense.
Ajax’s light inside the hull made the blast site glow an eerie golden against solid black.
The concentration of it fluctuated as, presumably, Ajax moved around the interior placing
detonation devices.
Tucker looked back down the length of the sub toward the propeller. That’s when it hit
him. He’d never seen a sub like this one. They’d been told it was a new design, but the actual sub
and the diagram they’d been working from weren’t exactly correct either. The diagram was
American. If he’d had to guess, Ajax would swear this sub wasn’t U.S. made.
Crazy certainty washed over him. It wasn’t unusual not to be told the whole truth, but this
was a pretty big piece of bullshit.
Tucker swung his head around in time to see a swarm of black, human-shaped masses
backlit on a night ocean between bursts of handheld lights. Above them, the water’s surface
exploded with yellow flashes of war. The water rumbled as sound waves buffeted against its
mass.
Tucker slammed his light on the hull, alerting the other team members of the approaching
divers and ordered them to surface. They couldn’t fight on empty tanks, but the next group
could. Tucker wasn’t leaving Ajax behind. Kroane tried to get Tucker to rise. Tucker shook his
head and shoved his light into Kroane’s hands. He swam low, using the underside of the sub to
hide him, knowing that the slightest shift could crush him beneath its weight.
The enemy would be on them soon, and Ajax had no idea what was coming.
* * * *
Ajax tried to ignore the creaking of water pressure on the hull as he swam back from the
Chief Petty Officer’s Stateroom with the key he’d been sent to collect. He heard the distant
sound of blasts but didn’t worry that it would change his orders. He’d secured the key in one of
his collection pockets. His mind, however, couldn’t put it away as easily. He didn’t like being
lied to, even if that was part of the package when one worked for the military. Still, he’d been
privately ordered to obtain choice pieces from the stateroom, and he’d do it. Even under the
threat of fire.
Ajax dodged a fallen steel beam and continued toward the front. His flashlight bounced
of the gunmetal gray interior until he saw the torpedo room. He twisted his hips to swim into the
open area loaded with undetonated missiles, when a hand pushed him back.
His light flipped up, momentarily blinding the other man. Tucker.
Tucker winced, motioned over his shoulder then tore Ajax’s flashlight from him and
switched it off. Ajax was just about to demand an explanation, when the black on shadow hole lit
from outside as flares were thrown in, one by one.
Ajax understood instantly. He maneuvered into the hall. He’d been through the area eight
times already, collecting enemy artifacts for the ROV, now he had to do it by memory. Worse,
Tucker had to follow in the dark. The flares would only allow for so much visibility.
Tucker still had Ajax’s light. The flares lessened the pitch black of the interior, as though
the inside of the sub was experiencing a coming dawn, from the residual burn. He turned, one
hand on the fallen beam to keep Tucker safe only to see that Tucker had pressed Ajax’s light to
his chest, allowing only a hint of illumination to escape.
In his panic, Ajax hadn’t thought of that, and he now smiled with relief. Tucker motioned
him forward. Ajax resumed his passage hoping they reached the aft dive shafts before the
intruders did. It would be a risky race to the dive line, if the dive line was still down. Muffled
percussion told him there was more trouble on the surface waiting for them.
He tried to clear his thoughts and press on. Tucker followed behind. It wasn’t until they
got to the dive shaft that he noticed Tucker had removed his rebreather mouthpiece and was
using his auxiliary tank. Ajax’s own was low, but he still had another few minutes before he’d
need to use his. With half an hour of air and more than half an hour necessary to swim safely to
the surface, it was going to be tight.
Ajax hands shook as he shoved Tucker through the shaft, urging him to hurry to safety.
He followed and felt Tucker’s hand clasp his reassuringly. A SEAL could hold his breath a long
time, but this would be asking a lot.
Tucker kept low. Ajax tracked behind, ready to help the minute Tucker lost the rest of his
air. He took his bearings from the flashes of light far above them. It wasn’t much, but it provided
enough for Ajax to see where his teammate led.
Ajax’s hand touched the dive line. He was out of air. He traded out his mouthpiece for his
emergency tank and kept going. The enemy didn’t seem aware that they were down there.
Looking back, he saw the others entering and circling the front of the sub like clumsy sharks.
Already some of the detonation packs had been found.
Ajax pushed on. Halfway up the line, Tucker’s auxiliary tank fell past him, hitting Ajax’s
shoulder on the way. Ajax rushed ahead until he was face to face with Tucker, took a breath,
then held out his tank to Tucker. Tucker shook his head.
Ajax shoved it to his face, forcing the issue. Tucker breathed and gave it back. They’d
still have a challenge to make it to the surface without either dying down there, or getting the
bends and dying on the surface from gas poisoning.
Tucker pulled ahead of him, climbing the line hand over hand, pushing the limits of
ascent speed. Ajax followed closely behind. His handheld was running out of air, and Tucker
wouldn’t slow down to take it from him for another breath. Ajax finally grabbed his fin and held.
Tucker reluctantly accepted the tank before taking off again.
Ten feet below the surface, the tank was empty. He put it back in his diving belt and
carried on. Tucker broke the surface, weakly. An explosion hit just above the water level. Ajax
gripped the line. He watched in horror as air exploded from Tucker’s lungs and knocked him
away from the dive platform of the ship. Stunned by the shockwave, Tucker splashed backward
into the ocean several feet away. The water peppered with debris that slowed on impact.
Dark water enveloped the other man as he drifted from sight, unconscious. Ajax felt
panic like a fist around his air pipe. He released the line and went after him.
He couldn’t lose Tucker. Not now. Not like this. They were so close to the surface and
the relative safety of the ship. He made another swipe and touched something. He grabbed it and
hauled it in, flipper first, then leg, then torso.
Ajax felt tight with relief and fear. Relief that he’d found Tucker. Fear that he’d been
knocked out underwater with an already low supply of oxygen in his lungs at the time. Ajax
wasted no time reaching the surface. He caught Tucker across the chest, keeping his head above
water as he back-swam toward the dive dock.
His team swung beams over the water and cheered when they saw them. Several jumped
in taking Tucker and dragging them both into the ship. Kroane was already on the horn to the
Captain and the dock began to lift, closing up the side of the ship.
“He’s hurt,” Ajax gasped.
“So are you,” Treeton said.
“I’m fine. Take care of Tucker.”
Treeton gave him a odd look but did as he was told.
He needn’t have explained about Tucker. Choke was already working on him with CPR.
Fullerton brought them an oxygen tank before bringing one to Ajax. Ajax was wheezing with his
need for air. His lungs were on fire, and every muscle in his body alternately ached and stung.
He rolled to his side and recoiled as sharp pain stabbed at his side. He ignored it, clasping the
oxygen mask to his face as he watched Tucker, motionless on the floor.
A ship medic ran to him.
“Don’t give up,” Ajax insisted. “Keep pumping that motherfucker until he comes back.
Do you hear me?”
“We got it, LC. We’re going to get him back,” Fullerton shouted distractedly.
“LC, the explosives. Are they ready?” Loughly asked.
“Ready and being disarmed,” he remembered. God, the mission. He’d forgotten the entire
mission in the process of saving Tucker. “Blow it. Blow it now. We had company. Tell the
captain to drop detonations at will.”
Loughly ran off. Seconds later a huge explosion slammed the underside of the ship in
long rippling groans. The mechanical sounds of torpedoes grinding into place and firing, greeted
them moments later as the Captain fired on the target.
Medics prepared to take Ajax away.
“No! I’m not going until Tucker’s safe.”
“Sir, we need to check you out,” a nameless Navy officer complained.
“I said no, now fuck off!”
“Yes, sir.” They stood back but stayed ready to pounce.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from Tucker’s limp form.
The medic breathed for him while Fullerton compressed his chest. It wasn’t that long ago
when Tucker’s mouth had been in a completely different kind of kiss. One that had left Ajax’s
head spinning and his career in the military in question.
Secrets came out. They always did. He’d been fooling himself to think no one would
learn about him and Tucker. He’d been stupid to think that those stolen moments with Tucker
meant nothing, that they were uninvited intrusions into Ajax’s life.
On the contrary, Ajax lived for them. He looked forward to the next interlude and had
grown frustrated when they returned to the job, and Tucker refused to flirt with him in any way,
never letting on what had gone between them.
Ajax didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to love a man. He sure as hell
didn’t know how to lose one.
Tucker had saved his life in the desert and taken a piece of him in the process. He’d
shocked him, wowed him, unnerved him, irritated him, made him laugh, brought him to peace
again in the most chaotic and fulfilling ways that Ajax couldn’t yet understand.
He brought confusion and jealousy in abundance, control and utter lack of it, gentleness
and rough edges of passion. Tucker couldn’t die. They’d just begun. It couldn’t be over like this.
So soon after…after Ajax had fallen for him.
“He’s got a pulse,” the medic shouted triumphantly.
“But he’s not breathing on his own,” Fullerton growled at the man. “He’s not out of the
woods yet.” Fullerton looked to be in a rage.
“But he’s alive, Lieutenant. That’s a start,” the medic reassured.
He waved over the Naval officers who’d been standing aside with a stretcher. Ajax
hadn’t noticed them until that moment. After he saw Tucker loaded in, then he let the others take
him too.
“Put me next to Tucker,” Ajax insisted when they got to the infirmary.
He didn’t care if it seemed out of place to make his attachment to Tucker so clear. He
needed to know the man was safe, breathing, going to make it. He’d worry about the
repercussions of his actions later. He twisted up on his side, watching as the medic and the
nurses cut the wetsuit from Tucker’s body.
Tucker’s color was bad. His skin looked clammy and ashen. The oxygen mask was
removed from his face, and the team got him intubated. An oxygen pump took over breathing for
him. His arm was prepped and a needle inserted with an IV drip.
God, it looked so bad.
A nurse lifted Tucker’s eyelids and flashed a light back and forth over the pupil.
“Responsive, sir.”
“Good.” The doctor seemed to take a deep breath. He looked at Ajax. “He’ll be alright.
He’s just stunned.”
“The blast hit too close, and he was low on air,” Ajax explained.
“It must’ve knocked him like a punch to the diaphragm. He’ll make it, which I couldn’t
have said if you hadn’t gotten to him when you did.”
“Thank God,” Ajax whispered. He fell back to the exam table, keeping his eyes fixed on
Tucker.
“Sir, will you let us treat you now?” the doctor asked.
Ajax looked at him with confusion. “I’m fine.”
“No, sir, you aren’t. You’re peppered with shrapnel.”
“That’s impossible. I’d know if I’d been hit,” Ajax argued.
He looked down at himself to prove his point. His wetsuit was ripped up. Large chunks of
metal protruded from his side and calf. Smaller pieces had torn holes and left oozing red rivulets
in their places.
“Okay, boys. Have at me,” Ajax relented.
His suit was cut and an IV drip in place, within minutes. The next thing he knew, he was
counting backwards and sleep took him.
Chapter Seven
Tucker stared at the floor of the team room. He’d been warming the bench long enough
that his ass had grown numb. It was quiet here. He could think. He’d propped his forearms on his
thighs and folded his hands in front of him. Prayer-like, he supposed, but he wasn’t praying. At
least he didn’t think it counted as prayer when you didn’t actually say anything or ask for
anything.
He wasn’t sure anyone listened to him, so prayer wasn’t his first choice. Silence was. The
team room had an abundance of that. The CO had granted the team a week off after they’d
returned. That was three weeks ago. Tucker had recovered within hours of waking up on the USS
Ferber. By then Ajax had been in surgery.
They’d been shipped home. Ajax had to stay behind until he could be airlifted to a
hospital and safely brought back to base.
Tucker had gone over the mission in his mind endlessly. He’d filed his report, and it was
as detailed as he could remember, up until the point he’d been knocked off the dive line and
come-to in the infirmary. Was there something he could have done differently? Would Ajax
blame him?
Someone opened the team door. The steps paused just inside, and then resumed straight
toward him. The bench creaked and a heavy hand touched his back.
“He’s been asking to see you,” Kroane said.
Tucker shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ve caused him a lot of grief. As if putting his job at risk wasn’t bad enough, he’s now
riddled with holes.”
“He’s healing well. Only the big pieces still have healing to do. His side is the worst,”
Kroane told him.
Tucker turned his head to look at the former Skins teammate he’d come to the Water
Dogs with. He hoped the man would continue to talk. It soothed him where the silence hadn’t.
Kroane seemed to understand. “He pulled the stitches trying to get out of bed too early. I
think they had Nurse Ratchet covering him in the hospital. Resting at home is making him antsy
though.” Kroane settled in, pushing his feet out and crossing his legs at the ankles. “The guys
have been over there every day. The wives too. He’s been a bear.”
Tucker chuckled dryly. “Or a beached SEAL.”
Kroane grinned. “Or that.”
“Is he pissed?” Tucker asked.
“At you?”
Tucker nodded.
“Only that you won’t visit him. He says he needs to talk to you, but he won’t let any of us
deliver the message.”
“I’m not afraid of much, Kroane, but I’m afraid of this,” Tucker confessed.
“Of seeing him?”
“I messed up.” Tucker sighed. “He’s straight, you know. I messed with his head but he’s
straight.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. He is. Hell, I’m messing up just by saying that.”
Kroane grunted. “You think we didn’t know about you?”
Tucker looked back sharply.
“The Skins knew, and you never got any shit from them. I’m pretty sure the Water Dogs
figured it out after the third or fourth bar crawl where you didn’t bring a woman home.”
“But the woman I kissed…”
Kroane laughed. “Yeah, and? You didn’t take her home either. Why do you think Treeton
rhymed about you needing to get laid? Grant you, we didn’t expect it to be the LC, but you aim
high. So what?”
“They knew?”
“Yeah, and get this. No one cares.” Kroane shifted, leaning on an elbow as he continued
to talk to Tucker.
“But everyone got so twisted about the…” he waved toward the booth.
“Like I said, no one thought the LC was gay. Kind of changes the dynamics when two of
your teammates start dating.”
“We’re not. He’s been telling me no for a while. I just didn’t get the message,” Tucker
groused.
“Looked like a yes in there to me,” Kroane countered.
“I thought for sure someone would report to the CO by now.”
“Dude. We’re a team. You could be fucking your sister and your daddy, and we still
wouldn’t rat you out.” Kroane slapped Tucker’s shoulder then gave it a squeeze.
Tucker laughed easily now. “So things are cool with the Dogs?”
“Like ice. What isn’t cool is keeping the LC waiting. That’s why I’m here, actually. He
issued me a direct order to locate you and bring you with any force necessary. Even if he’s
intending to turn you down, you gotta answer an order.”
“Time for me to man-up,” Tucker huffed. He stood and held his hand out to Kroane.
“Thanks. For everything.”
“What’re brothers for?”
Tucker was almost through the door when Kroane called to him. He stopped and smiled
at the man. “Yeah?”
“That old don’t ask don’t tell thing never came into the equation. The guys have your
back.” Suddenly Kroane blushed. “In a platonic way.”
* * * *
Ajax threw back the covers and swung his legs to the side. He’d been tucked away for
three weeks, halfway through his expected recovery time. The wounds looked good. What
annoyed the snot out of him was the delay in returning to the job. The damn doctor wouldn’t sign
off.
Which left him with sending the Water Dogs out like errand boys. If Kroane didn’t bring
Tucker soon, heads would roll. He glared at the frilly gift bag the guys had brought him and left
thoughtfully beside the bed. In it were condoms, butt plugs, pearl strands, lube and—according
to Treeton—whatever the sex shop worker had said two guys would need for a very special night
together.
At the rate things were going, he’d be lucky just to have a conversation with Tucker in
the next year. But he understood the sentiment. It was their way of saying everything was cool.
No judgments.
And that was great, especially since Tucker seemed to have made a judgment of his own
that didn’t involve Ajax when Ajax had yet to breathe his own thoughts on the matter. Damn that
booth. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the guys hadn’t seen.
A rap sounded on his bedroom door.
“Come!” he shouted, relishing the stab of pain that flexing his ribs came with while his
worst injury continued to heal.
Tucker filled the doorframe, looking as loaded with fatigue and guilt as Ajax felt.
“Tucker,” Ajax said the word like a sigh and wanted to kick himself for the telling relief.
Tucker smiled crookedly. “Hey. How pissed off are ya?”
“Ready to take back your trident badge.”
“Damn.” Tucker closed the door behind him and approached the bed. “You need to stay
in there,” he said, lifting Ajax’s legs to the mattress and covering him up with the sheet again.
“I’m sick of this bed.”
“What are they saying for recovery time?”
“Does it matter? The medical staff has a hard-on for inconveniencing me.” When Tucker
lifted his brow, Ajax relented. “Six to eight weeks for full return to work.”
“Another three minimum, then.”
“That’s full return. All the drills etc. I’m able to yell at the Water Dogs from a jeep just
fine.”
Tucker laughed. “Then why don’t you? We’re waiting for you to quit bellyaching and get
to it.”
“Because people like you keep coming in here and telling me to get back in bed, damn
it.”
“I happen to like the idea of you in bed,” Tucker confessed carefully.
Ajax’s eyes narrowed on him. “That could be ill-advised.”
“Almost losing you—Ajax, I can’t do it. If staying away from you keeps you alive, I’ll
post out. I just can’t be the reason that you take risks anymore.”
“Don’t post out,” Ajax grumbled.
“You want me to stay.”
“I want you to stay,” Ajax repeated, making his point.
“I’m a distraction.”
“Definitely. You distract the fuck out of me.”
Tucker’s eyes lit with humor. “God, I hope not.”
Ajax startled with laughter. He groaned just as fast and pressed a pillow to his side to
hold the stitches. “Don’t do that. This motherfucker hurts like fire.”
Tucker’s expression sobered. “You know how I feel. I need to know how you feel.”
“Do I know, Tucker? I don’t believe I do. I know that you’re an eager son of a bitch and
that you’re interested in messing with my head to see how much I’ll accept, but I don’t actually
know how you feel.”
He looked surprised. He shouldn’t have been.
“I’m in love with you.” Tucker’s voice cracked.
The words seemed to terrify him, which was crazy. They were just words, not bullets.
Not enemy fire or exploding submarines in the pit of hell.
“You’re sure? You don’t look sure,” Ajax questioned.
“I’m sure. I don’t want to pressure you. I haven’t wanted to, but I think there’s something
here between us. I need to put it to rest as an impossibility, or find out if you could feel the same
way about me.”
“Our entire off-base relationship has been all about pressure.”
“Have I been that bad? I thought walking away from you would give you the space you
needed.”
Ajax had to come clean. “The pressure was on my part. You gave me plenty to think
about that never would have been on my radar, but you did back off. Then it was all those flying
thoughts you’d left behind that applied the pressure.”
“Wow, I get credit for your thoughts. That’s a first,” Tucker joked.
His words were light, but Ajax could tell the delay was wearing on him. “Tucker, I don’t
know what this is,” he admitted.
Tucker’s gaze met his. “What do you mean?”
The question felt loaded, like too much hinged on his answer for Ajax to be anything but
completely honest, for both of the men. It meant probing the depths of his heart and mind for
answers he’d shied away from until now.
Oh, he’d scoped out the pretty edges of the dilemma plenty, but when it came to jumping
in and immersing himself, Ajax had viewed it out of the peripheral of his mind’s eye. He’d
treated the problem like something to be feared. The truth was, he’d faced real fear in the Persian
Gulf. Hell, he’d faced it in the desert before he’d known what to fear. And at the heart of it was
losing Tucker to bad decisions or ones made out of that same enemy: fear.
“I’m exploring it. Proceeding with caution,” Ajax replied, answering Tucker’s earlier
question.
At Tucker’s exasperated look, Ajax held up a hand.
“Just—gimme a minute, okay? I’m working it out, and I’m trying to come to a
conclusion out loud for you that I haven’t dealt with in the privacy of my own mind yet. So, can
you give me a minute?” he snapped.
Tucker blew out a breath, clearly stealing himself for patience. “Take all the time you
need. I’m not leaving until you ask me to.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Tucker answered, a smile returning to his lips.
“I wouldn’t let them touch me until I knew you were going to live,” Ajax began.
Tucker didn’t miss a beat in knowing where he’d started the conversation. “They told me.
You could’ve died waiting.”
“Let me finish. And I wouldn’t have died. I wasn’t bleeding out.”
“Fine. Finish, you stubborn cuss.” Tucker dropped an arm on the other side of Ajax’s
hips and leaned.
“It occurred to me out there that I didn’t know how to love another man. That it hadn’t
been an option for me before, so I wasn’t sure I could do it or do it right. I knew I could die for
my Dogs and for my country. I knew I could die for you, and would’ve if I’d been given the
option.”
He looked steadily at Tucker.
“I also knew that I’d want to die if you died first.” His brow tightened as he tried to
deduce what that meant. “Any SEAL would trade places with a brother to see that he got home
safely. What I went through on that deck, waiting for you to breathe while people worked on
you, that wasn’t the same as how I feel about my team of Dogs. It—”
Words failed Ajax. He didn’t know how to describe the iron fist restricting his heart or
the fire behind his eyes, or the way his throat closed on itself when he thought about what would
have happened if Tucker had never taken a breath.
Tucker lowered, pressing his forehead to Ajax’s. “I’m here. I’m alive. Take your time.”
Ajax took Tucker’s head in his hands and pulled him down for a lingering kiss. His eyes
burned, and dear God, was that a tear that had slid down his cheek?
Tucker pulled back. “You love me.”
“I don’t know how to.”
Tucker shrugged. “You don’t need to know how, it happe ns all by itself. You love me,
and it’s freaking you out.”
Ajax stared into his blue eyes and found strength there. And truth. And answering
wonderment that spread behind his chest suspiciously close to Ajax’s heart.
“I’m not going to freak out. I love you. It’s new, a little different, but there,” Ajax
decided.
Tucker’s smile widened. “It’s about damn time.”
“Too bad I can’t do anything about it for another few weeks.”
“Are you ready for that?” Tucker asked in apparent surprise.
“Hey, when I make a decision, I don’t piss about wasting time,” Ajax told him.
“Well, there are things I can show you that don’t require you do anything but lie there
and take it. Are you game?”
Ajax thought about the first time and the jack-off session in the desert. He remembered
the lust and the crazy-explosive orgasm there on the dirt floor. Hard lips and rough hands and the
idea of Tucker getting soft and gentle on him, made him just as hot as that memory.
“Cocked and loaded.”
Tucker groaned. “First thing? You need to come up with better puns.”
He whipped the sheet away from Ajax’s body, leaving him in nothing but his bandages
and boxer-briefs. Tucker reached to his own ankle and pulled out his battle knife. Watching him
slice through the cotton material with a wicked black blade had to be number one on Ajax’s sexy
meter. He decided then and there, he’d never look at the battle knife the same way. And possibly
never again without getting a raging erection.
Tucker kissed him. Tracked soft, lippy tastes along his jaw and down his neck. Tucker
kicked off his shoes and hefted himself to the other side of Ajax so he could lie down beside him.
It was all new, and strangely more intimate than making out with a woman. It was as
though he’d been making love his whole life with a veil over his eyes and the minute Tucker
walked into his life, that curtain had been ripped away. It forced him to feel everything like a
brand new experience. But then, that’s exactly what it was.
He hissed when Tucker licked a nipple. The man had made an art of taking his time, and
Ajax wasn’t sure he could hold out.
“I know you said you’d take it slow, but do you think we can speed it up a little?” Ajax
asked.
“Not liking the foreplay?”
“Liking the foreplay too much. My cock is going to rupture.”
Tucker laughed, burying his face into Ajax’s chest. “I forget you’re a virgin at this,” he
teased.
Ajax remembered being a virgin. He’d shot his load early. It would be embarrassing as
hell if that happened now, with Tucker. He gritted his teeth, prepared to hold back as much as
possible. A little SEAL discipline, of sorts.
Tucker’s hand moved down gently fondling Ajax’s cock and sac. “It would be okay if
you came quick,” Tucker teased.
“Fuck you,” Ajax rasped.
Looking down the length of his body and watching Tucker’s oversized mitt play with his
junk brought two observations to bear. One, Tucker’s hand felt better than amazing on his bare
flesh. Two, Tucker wore way too much clothing.
“Get naked,” Ajax demanded.
“Oh?”
“I’m not going to be the only naked dude with his family jewels spread out.”
“Fine, LC. I’m at your orders.”
Tucker got up, careful not to jostle the bed, though Ajax was at the point of recovery
where sex was a welcome jostle. He stood his full height, made more impressive by the fact that
Ajax was on his back looking up.
Tucker rocked his hips side to side with a little hummed stripper music that made Ajax
grin. Then he drew the cotton tee over his head, twirled it in the air and flung it across the room.
Next he canted his hips toward Ajax and undid the button.
“You seemed pretty good at zippers. Why don’t you take care of this one for me?”
Tucker suggested.
Ajax let his fingers drift over the jean-clad bulge. His gut tightened with anticipation.
Damn, he was definitely gay. Maybe Tucker had introduced him to the possibility, but there was
no accounting for the level of excitement running through his veins at the moment. He wanted
what was behind that zipper. More so because it belonged to the man he’d fallen in love with
when he hadn’t been paying attention.
“Tease,” Tucker accused when Ajax continued to stroke his bulge.
“Just getting used to the idea that touching you doesn’t freak me out.”
“Ah, so you’ve decided that you definitely like cock.”
Ajax smiled warmly. “I do, but I seem to be a particular fan of your cock. As evidenced.”
He waved a hand at his own erection.
He released the fly. Tucker’s bulge pushed through the opening, but remained trapped by
underwear. He shimmied out of his jeans and peeled off his socks. Tucker turned his back to
Ajax hooked his underwear band and slowly, slowly sashayed the fabric over his muscled ass,
flexing his cheeks in a way that had Ajax laughing and groaning at the same time.
Ajax swatted the sexy rump and was pleased to hear Tucker’s playful yelp. But it made
him even happier when Tucker twisted around to climb into bed and straddled Ajax at the waist.
He made to move but Ajax grabbed his hips in both hands.
“No. I want to look at you.”
“You’ve seen my dick before, Ajax.”
“Not really. Not close like this.”
His cock jutted proudly toward Ajax, strong and engorged with dusky balls nestled lower.
Ajax squeezed his fist around his shaft, thrilled when Tucker moaned and pushed into him.
“You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know whether to attempt my first blow job, or ignore the stitches and take your
ass now.”
“What makes you think I’m a bottom?”
Ajax blinked. He hadn’t actually thought about it. In his mind, of course he was the top.
He always topped women, why wouldn’t he top men? But now that Tucker put the question in
his head, the idea of having the pristine dick currently in his fist, instead in his ass taking him
relentlessly toward orgasm, had pre-cum seeping from his tip.
“Oh, God,” Ajax rasped. He wanted it inside him.
“Do you have any idea how damn sexy you look right now? Your eyes say fuck me, but
you lips are calling to my dick. I can’t be faced with the choices, LC. You’re gonna have to make
a command decision.”
“Damn, Tucker, I don’t know. I’m gonna have to think about this for a few minutes.”
Ajax stroked Tucker, enjoying the change of his texture from shaft to head.
“Evil,” Tucker groaned. “You’re fucking evil.” But he pushed his hips forward, getting
into Ajax’s rhythm.
Watching the muscles play along Tucker’s torso and hips fascinated him. He’d never
been this close to a naked man and he’d never paid attention to his own body in the midst of sex.
It was hypnotic and dead sexy. His lateral obliques tightened in a vee to his groin. His abdomen
clenched and flexed over his hips. He could see the banding of each grouping, watched them
work together in a full erotic display of turgid cock thrusting, ball-sac swaying lust.
God, he fucking wanted Tucker doing all those things inside him.
“Wait. I have something,” Ajax remembered.
Tucker chuckled. “Yeah you do. It’s called my dick in your hand.”
Ajax laughed too, more out of nervousness at the new course of their relationship than
anything humorous. “The bag on the floor is from the Dogs. They—” He broke off to get a grip
on his embarrassment. “They thought we could use a few gifts.”
Tucker pointed at his dick. “Don’t let go of that, okay?”
He bent to the side and took the handles of the bag, bringing it to the bed. His expression
at holding up a black and pink leopard print gift tote with feathers around the opening was
priceless. He peered in as though expecting something to come popping out, but his eyes bugged
instead.
“Holy shit!”
“I know, right?” Ajax muttered.
“Dude. They really have some high expectations of us, don’t they?”
“They could be fun though,” Ajax hedged.
Tucker fished inside and pulled out some condoms and the lube. His expression had
turned serious. “Listen, I know that once you make up your mind, you’re all in, but our whole
relationship to this point has been rushed. Would you mind if we slowed it down a little?”
Tucker kept his eyes on Ajax’s face. His answer seemed critical. He wanted to feel
Ajax’s commitment, not just hear the words. Somehow rushing this moment after admitting that
they loved one another, felt cheap. He wanted a guy who’d stick. Not a fuck who wanted to try
something new and see if he liked it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Ajax, but that he wanted the man to feel the difference in
their history to this point and from here forward. Because he wanted Ajax. Not just tonight or for
a little while or for as long as he would play for the gay team. He wanted Ajax forever and more
than that, he wanted him to know that this moment was special to Tucker too.
He wanted commitment. Not flashy toys and experimentalism. He wanted all of Ajax and
if Ajax couldn’t give it to him, then Tucker didn’t want any of him. He wasn’t a halfway guy
who would settle. They both deserved better than that.
The toys bugged him a little, but they were from the guys, not from the man he was in
love with. And admittedly, he hadn’t come prepared with condoms and lube since he hadn’t
known what to expect from Ajax.
Slow lovemaking wouldn’t allow either of them to hide their feelings, or shake it off as
lust-craze. It was deliberate, a dance of equal give and take in each other’s bodies. Tucker
couldn’t think of a better way to seal his commitment. He just hoped Ajax agreed.
“I’m not sure what to do,” Ajax said. “I want to do everything right. I want things to be
good for you.”
“I’d say you have a pretty good handle on things,” Tucker quipped nodding to his penis.
“Relax. You have the same equipment. If it feels good for you, chances are I’m going to like it
too.”
“Is it weird to say that I want you inside me?” Ajax’s gaze darted away and back again
almost stubbornly.
“Not at all. In fact, I like that you do.” He kissed Ajax. “A lot.”
“So what happens next?”
“You lie back and let me take over for a while. You shouldn’t be straining anyway. This
one is about what I do to you, okay? We’ll worry about the rest later.”
Tucker took Ajax’s hand off himself with a bit of remorse. Yet if he intended to get
anywhere, then being fondled by a man eager to please him, was going to short circuit his brain.
Like he had before he’d stripped, Tucker lay down beside Ajax. He stretched his naked
front against Ajax’s side, letting him get used to the feel of another man inside his personal space
like never before.
“Can I touch you?” Ajax asked.
“Whenever and however you want. Just let me have my rod until I’m done with it,” he
corrected when Ajax made a move to touch him there again.
Tucker started over, kissing him with all the time in the world until Ajax opened and
warmed. He thumbed Ajax’s nipples, giving them a slight tweak then ran his hand up and down
the other man’s body. For a guy like Ajax, who’d never been down this road, Tucker sensed the
self-perception of not being gay would be close to crippling until he adjusted. He hoped he could
be sensitive to that and take his time the way his lover needed.
He touched him, everywhere his hand could reach. He spent time tracing the line of hair
from chest to cock, and following the line of muscles over his ribs, careful to avoid the bandage
all the while kissing, tasting, soothing Ajax into more than just a hard-on arousal.
Taking his time, he eased down Ajax’s body, and slipped between his legs. Ajax stiffened
but Tucker continued his slow pursuit. He kissed his thighs, his hipbones, his pelvis and Ajax’s
breathing changed again. His hips tilted up, nudging his cock against the underside of Tucker’s
chin.
He was ready.
Tucker grasped Ajax’s shaft, and meeting his eyes, took the head into his mouth. He
swirled his tongue over it like a lollipop. Ajax’s breath shuddered harshly as he watched. He was
into it. So into it. Taking more and more of Ajax into his mouth he began to suck down on him,
hollowing his cheeks as he pulled off, and swallowing around the length as he took him in.
Ajax groaned, awkwardly reached for Tucker’s head, but Tucker could see that the
wound was keeping him from finding his handhold on one side. Tucker pushed his free hand up
Ajax’s torso, shoving hard to keep the man flat so he didn’t stress his side. Tucker worked his
mouth quicker.
Ajax fisted the sheets, twisting them in his fingers. He was holding back, or trying to and
Tucker wanted nothing to do with that. The only choice was to complicate it for him. With
wicked intent, Tucker rubbed Ajax’s anus in a circular motion, gently pushing the end digit
inside in tandem to his sucking stride.
It worked, Ajax shouted and hot cum spilled down the back of Tucker’s throat. Tucker
swallowed quickly, bearing down on him until the last salty drop left Ajax.
Tucker didn’t move away even though he cleaned off Ajax’s relaxing shaft. His thumb
continued to probe as he grinned up at the man.
Ajax stared at him in amazement. “Holy fuck! That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”
“You’re surprised? What does a woman know about what we feel?”
“Good point.”
Tucker curled his thumb downward and popped Ajax’s anus ring.
“What was that?” he asked breathlessly.
“This?” Tucker did it again and Ajax nodded. “I’m loosening you up. Do you like it?”
“I think so.”
Tucker did it again from a different angle.
“Yeah, I do.”
Tucker picked up the lube and liberally applied some to the newest spot of interest. Then
pushed in a little deeper. He nuzzled the balls to the side, then kissed and suckled the taint area.
He received a happy groan from his lover. Always good to know he was on the right track.
Ajax’s head swam with a plethora of new sensations. He couldn’t categorize them fast
enough, and he didn’t even know exactly what Tucker was doing to him, only that he didn’t want
it to stop. The blowjob had been amazing. God, he’d never known getting sucked off could feel
so out of control. He’d always been aware of where he was and how long it took, in the past.
With Tucker, his mouth closed on him, and Ajax lost all ability to think.
He’d never been drawn to a man the way he was drawn to Tucker. Tucker was everything
he admired, everything he wanted to be, and everything he wanted to be around. Tucker was his
it, he realized.
Maybe that’s why it felt so right with him. It hadn’t mattered whether Tucker was male
or female. He was just the right person. The only person. And he’d almost lost him. That
wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t be stupid and leave Tucker wondering how he felt about
him.
No holds barred. He wanted Tucker and only Tucker.
“Tucker. I need you.”
Tucker seemed to understand. He pushed up, took a condom and dressed himself. After
applying more lube on his cock, he paused to look seriously at Ajax.
“It’s going to hurt at first. Breathe. Don’t hold it. Remind yourself to relax. Your body
will do the rest.”
Ajax nodded, feeling a niggle of fear though desire far outweighed it.
“Lie still. Let me do the work. You’re still healing.”
Ajax nodded again, at loss for words.
Tucker positioned himself between Ajax’s thighs, then lifted his leg from the unbandaged
side by hooking him behind the knee. Ajax felt the pressure first, nudging against him. Then the
slip of Tucker’s head as it popped against his rim to catch behind the flared crown.
Tucker licked his lips and held steady. “Breathe. Push out when I push in.”
Ajax had never had to think so hard about his ass before. He applied concentration to the
task, doing what he was told instead of what his body insisted he should be doing. Tucker rocked
a little, and Ajax pushed out against him.
“Good. That’s good. Now breathe and push.”
He waited for Ajax to exhale, must’ve felt the moment Ajax pushed, because Tucker
moved back, sliding in and in and in. Sweat broke out on Ajax’s brow. Tucker seemed to be
straining too. Something tickled Ajax’s ass and he realized it had to be Tucker’s sac. Just the
thought of it made him hot and cold all over.
Again Tucker paused and allowed him to relax. Tucker filled him unrelentingly. Ajax’s
body struggled to adjust but once it did, he discovered he really liked Tucker inside him, even
more than he’d anticipated. Maybe he was a bottom.
But God, the thought of fucking Tucker’s ass certainly appealed to him too.
“How’re you doing?” Tucker rasped.
“It feels good.”
“So convincing,” Tucker teased.
“I’m trying to be stoic here. You feel incredible. I was just thinking that I might be a
bottom until I wondered what it would be like to fuck you. Now I’m not sure anymore.”
Tucker’s blue gaze turned scorching. “You thought that?”
“Yeah. Is that okay or is that gay taboo?”
“It’s more than okay. It’s something you’re going to try in three weeks. You know,
saying shit like that really fucks with my concentration. I’m trying to go easy on you, but then
you say that, and I basically want to ride you raw.”
Ajax’s cock had already begun to harden again. “Do it. Please do it.”
Tucker swore, hanging his head as he laughed through his groan and needing to hold
back. “Geez, you’re getting hard again.”
“You do that to me.”
Tucker glanced up at him, before looking back down at Ajax’s stiffening cock. He
readjusted himself so he could see it and still enter Ajax. “Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”
Ajax began to masturbate. Tucker swore again, but he watched as he moved inside of
Ajax. Something new happened. Tucker changed his angle and coasted right over a spot that had
crazy tingles dancing up Ajax’s spine. He went hard in an instant and jacked himself in earnest.
Tucker moved faster too, taking his cues from Ajax.
“Come for me, Alex. I want to see you shoot.”
The sound of his name on Tucker’s lips for the first time changed something in him. He
liked the intimacy of it. Already orgasm snaked close.
“Come, Alex. Shoot on my chest. Mess me up.”
That did it. Ajax shot hard. It ripped out of him like a physical force of nature and
splashed across Tucker’s chest and shoulders. Tucker groaned harshly and rode faster, lifted
Ajax’s leg higher still and pegged that sweet spot every time.
Tucker looked at him, held his gaze. Rich with emotion, Ajax couldn’t look away. Too
much information passed there. Too much feeling and he knew, knew without a shadow of a
doubt, that he was Tucker’s everything too.
A look of bliss covered Tucker’s face, colored his cheekbones with dusky pink.
“I love you, Tucker.”
Tucker seemed to lock onto those words. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He
pushed in, his lips parting on a long shout as the final thrusts rammed him hard. Buried deep, his
hips jerked several more times before Tucker released Ajax’s leg and rolled to the side.
Tucker draped an arm over his head and gently tugged on tufts of Ajax’s dark hair. He
smiled a boyish, sloppy grin. “I love you too, honey,” he whispered.
Epilogue
Eight months later…
Ajax pulled off Tucker’s cock with a wicked grin.
“Hot damn, what a way to wake up. I didn’t even have to tell you to keep your teeth
covered.”
Ajax laughed. He’d been skittish the first time, but he’d taken it as a personal challenge
to perfect giving a blowjob.
“So have you decided yet?” Tucker asked.
“About what?”
“Are you a bottom or a top?” Tucker teased, pulling Ajax down on top of him and
looping his arms around his neck.
“I have no idea. It requires extensive further research.”
“I’m happy to be your subject,” Tucker offered.
“Good. I have no interest in finding another lab partner.”
Tucker’s expression grew serious. “We’re due for another tour any day, aren’t we?”
“We are.”
“I don’t want to distract you.”
“I’ve come up with an idea about that. When we separate into dive groups, assuming
there’s diving involved, I’ll just make sure we’re in different places or trading off for each
other,” Ajax said.
“I don’t think that’s going to work. I’d worry about you.”
“We’re SEALs. We get the job done right the first time. Trust my training, and if you
can’t do that, trust me.”
“I trust you,” Tucker answered. “I wouldn’t have moved in with you if I didn’t.”
Ajax grinned. They’d brought that up to the housing committee as doubling up on
occupancy to allow more room for new recruits. It helped that the Water Dogs lived on the same
street except for Kroane and Tucker. Kroane wasn’t overjoyed about doubling up, but he was
single and the CO had thought it was a good idea worth recommending. It saved the base money
on housing and kept the team close. It was a win-win.
“There’ll come a day when they figure it out, though,” Ajax mused.
“And so what if they do? As long as we don’t admit anything, they can’t ask. They’ll
suspect their hearts out.”
“And make life difficult.”
“We have a team of protective Water Dogs behind us. We’ll win.”
“Water Dogs for life,” Ajax agreed.
“Hoo-yah!”
About the Author
Mia makes her home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she divides her time between a job and
spying on people. Mia enjoys long walks in Como Park, daisies, dancing in the snow...(Delete
prior sentence, meant for personal ad)...
Mr. Perfect may apply in person for a thorough evaluation and trial. All others will be towed.
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