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“You know, sir, it’s a disgrace.”
Nate glances up from beneath his Kevlar, glaring at Brad from deep inside his ranger grave. “Waking a man up after just two hours of sleep?”
“Hey, that’s an hour and four minutes more than I’ve ever managed.” Brad eases down into the grave, setting a tin cup on the rocky edge and straddling Nate. There’s no one around, the rest of the camp gathered elsewhere, divvying up supplies they managed to con from RCT-1. “But that’s not at all what I’m discussing, sir.”
“Then what, pray tell, are we talking about?”
“You, sir.” Brad shifts slightly, the heels of his boots digging into Nate’s thighs. Nate stays carefully still beneath him, his breathing shallow in his chest as he watches Brad. “You’re supposed to set an example.”
“I was. By catching sleep when I could.”
“I think we both know what I’m talking about, sir. Something far more important than sleep.” He runs the back of his fingers along Nate’s jaw, drawing a rough gasp from between Nate’s lips. “The grooming standard.”
“The…”
“Grooming standard. Yes, sir. You are dirty. You are unkempt and you are most definitely not clean-shaven. I cannot express how important it is to the morale of our fighting forces that their leaders present a shining example to the men they represent.” He reaches for his cup and balances it on Nate’s chest.
“You know, I already have one Sergeant Major riding my ass…”
“Well, now, if I’d known that the grooming standard gave me free rein at riding your ass, sir, I’d have done this sooner.” Brad pulls a brush from his webbing, dipping it in the cup and swirling it around. Nate watches his hand, half-hypnotized by the smooth motion. “I guess better late than never, hmm?”
Nate swallows as Brad pulls out the brush, the horsehair bristles coated with milky white foam. “What are you doing, Brad?”
He leans in, far too close for any kind of comfort, and runs the brush against Nate’s jaw, coating it with a fine layer of cream. “I’m making you fit for command, sir.” He silences Nate from saying anything further by swiping the brush slowly over his lips, making sure to coat every inch of Nate’s thick stubble. Nate closes his eyes, just watching Brad’s eyes follow the slow, steady movement of the brush making him dizzy and lightheaded.
“Are you saying I’m not fit for command with a beard?”
“I’m not saying that sir. I am saying you look ridiculous, like a twelve-year-old who drew something on his face with a marker.” Brad pulls out his K-bar and sights alone the razor sharp end of it then scrapes it lightly from the base of Nate’s neck up to his jaw. “You really can’t expect us to take you seriously like that.”
Nate swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as Brad’s knife moves against his skin again.
“Hold still, sir.”
Nate stops breathing, his chest tight and painful as Brad’s knife moves, the sound of it sliding against his dry skin loud in his ears. Brad’s movements are spare, economical and his K-bar cuts a wide swathe along Nate’s skin, sending a splatter of soap onto the dirt and Nate’s collar. He watches the quick flick of Brad’s wrist, feeling the cold night air on his damp skin as Brad leaves it bare.
“There. Good as new.”
“I don’t need a quick trip to Doc Bryan to stem the flow of any major veins or arteries you’ve severed?”
“I suppose that’s a fair question, sir,” Brad’s voice drops to a low growl as he nuzzles the still damp skin of Nate’s neck. “Given that you wouldn’t bleed out since all the blood’s traveled further south.” He palms Nate’s cock through his fatigues, rubbing his thumb along the hard length. “Of course, I’d have to wonder if you were getting kinky this early in our relationship and hoping for a threesome.”
“I think you’re all I can handle, Sergeant.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure, sir.” Brad undoes Nate’s fatigues easily, guiding his cock free and wrapping his fist around it, stroking it slowly. He leans forward, his arm braced on the edge of the grave behind Nate’s head, his face close enough that all Nate can see is Brad’s blue eyes, all he can taste is Brad’s warm breath. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“I think you’re the one with his mind set on something.” Nate bites his lower lip, sucking on it as Brad’s hand keeps up its lazy rhythm. “Quite possibly driving me to distraction.”
“Am I distracting, Lieutenant?”
Nate groans and grabs Brad’s fatigue jacket, tugging him down hard onto him, crushing their mouths together. Brad muffles the noise with the kiss, his tongue fighting with Nate’s until they find a steady give and take, their bodies grinding together. Brad’s hand keeps moving in the space between them, stroking Nate harder and tighter, catching all the small gasps and groans in his mouth and swallowing them down.
Nate’s hips jerk upward and he comes, hot and thick in Brad’s hand. Brad kisses away any noise, sucking on Nate’s tongue until the soft choking sound of Nate’s overloaded senses penetrates and he pulls away. Nate can barely see in the fading light, but Brad’s fatigues are dark and the hard press of his erection that Nate felt grind against his isn’t standing out in sharp relief.
“I imagine, Lieutenant, that you’d pass even Sergeant Major Sixta’s inspection.” Brad slides his K-bar smoothly into its holster and gathers up his shaving tools, easing off Nate slowly. “Now, get some sleep.”
“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Nate’s eyes are already closed as he closes up his fatigues, half asleep and smiling for the first time since they hit the AO.