DISCLAIMER
==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2002 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2000/Write.html
It took a good five minutes or so before I managed the next two words. "You know."
"About you being a card-carrying faggot?" he replied.
"Yes."
"Yeah," he grunted in reply.
That gave me a moment's pause as I digested the idea. Marine Ken knew I was gay. Knew all along probably since I hadn't said anything. Did he know that my dick was hard right now too? Although it was almost pitch dark, I could see the outlines of a dark shack hidden in the deep caverns. If he wasn't heading that way, I certainly wouldn't have seen it at all.
My silence had him continuing. "The whole Team Sixteen knows. It's not exactly a state secret."
"No." It certainly wasn't a state secret. Anyone who cared to look up my resume would find that I sat on helm of several gay and lesbian organisations.
That left me something to think about and I remained silent for the rest of the journey. That night in the Kandahar camp, we'd all slept together, huddled together in the bitter cold of the night. And all the time, they all knew that the doctor was a practising homosexual. All that time when I thought I was perfectly safe with my lewd, X-rated fantasies of a no-holds-barred SEAL orgy, they were probably keeping their eyes peeled for one of my roving hands. After all, 8 gorgeous, incredibly well-built guys trapped in one warm, cosy shelter in the dark under the light of a candle. It was practically a sleazy gay porn film come to life. Of course in my fantasies that night Muldoon was the main star, the super flexible, randy stud with the 12 inch dick who took on all comers but the rest of the guys certainly hadn't been slouches. The hunky, broad-shouldered blond Loot was equally agile and had performed quite admirably that night too. Not to mention the dark-eyed Captain.
Did they spend the whole night worrying that I'd play grab-a-dick? The idea had me smiling as I pictured those hard-bitten, cynical grunts piss-assed scared that I'd pinch their cute asses. It took several minutes for the idea to sink in before I could speak again.
"That night.. you all knew..."
My answer was a grunt as he brushed aside some brush and stones to reveal a door. He stepped close to the dark shack and shoved open the door. "Mi casa es su casa."
Carrying me inside, he left me in a heap at a corner. The shack certainly wasn't the Ritz but I saw the makings of a fire close by with several bags in a corner which I guessed to be provisions. Unsatisfied with his earlier answer, I pressed again. "You knew?"
"Yeah." Seems like the man read my mind again. He flashed me a quick grin. And I had to admit that the man was a real looker. Apart from that incredible physique that was out of one of my anatomy textbooks - not to mention rivalling some of the hottest Playgirl centerfolds, the man had an amazing face. Deep-set bedroom eyes the colour of a tropical sky, a perfect unbroken nose and amazingly soft-looking, sensuous lips. So far he kept those sexy lips in a tight, angry sneer but no one could deny that those lush curves were meant to be smothered with kisses. Perhaps he knew that and tried to hide the sweet promise of those lips from me.
My close perusal hadn't escaped his notice and he raised a dark eyebrow. "Like what you see?"
The question was made with no rancor in his voice but I still found it a little hard to believe. For a moment I almost decided not to answer but I simply had to know. "Is this a trick question?" I turned to look at him to find him poking at the small fire he'd made at the corner of the shack. Marine Ken certainly looked as if he knew what he was doing.
As the flames grew, the light fell across those male underwear model cheekbones, making him look somehow younger and more vulnerable looking, those thickly lashed eyes gentler. Alarmingly deceptive. "Relax. We don't do fagbashing nowadays, Doc - not on rainy Mondays anyway. Perhaps tomorrow night." His smile widened. "If it's not raining."
The amusement in his voice surprised me but one could never be too sure. "Kid all you like but I thought that -"
Looking up in response to my question, the man didn't pause a beat but continued looking into his bag to rustle around. "That we'd go crazy and stomp on your ass the first chance we could possibly get?"
The way he put it made it sound silly and I looked sheepish. "Yeah, something like that?"
Removing a few bags of ingredients, he moved over to the fire and pulled out a small pan. As he mixed the various spices, he briefly turned to me and gave me a sly wink. "Look, I'm not speaking for everyone in the team but for me it's no matter to me how a guy gets his rocks off. Seems like that would be his business and no one else's. Whether you get hot over a dick or a cunt, it's a personal choice." Breaking off to fan the small fire, he shrugged in dismissal. "Though why you'd prefer a stinky guy when you could have a soft, sweet-smelling female is beyond me."
"We're weird that way." For a man I'd labeled a rednecked homophobe cowboy, I was amazed at this surprising turn of events. What next, supporting women's lib and burning bras? Would he tell me next that he wore a tight sexy marine uniform and stripped to a G-string at the local bar every other weekend? That last idea definitely held some appeal - as I imagined those hard, glistening muscles and a G-string with the stars and stripes emlazoned across - and I felt myself getting hard again. The man would earn a fortune if he did just that. Even now, I was tempted to throw a few bucks his way just for looking so good in dust-grime-matted cammies. God, why did I keep falling for unavailable guys like that? Did the gay fairy have a personal vendetta against me?
The amazement in my face was obvious and it compelled him to reply. "Don't look so surprised, Max. We don't even own slaves on the fields, no more."
"Ha ha."
"Anyway, more gay men would mean less competition for the rest of us fellas." The idea had the marine laughing softly. "So go ahead and fuck each other."
The weather had gotten chilly and I was glad for the warmth the small fire provided. "Progressive ideas. You amaze me. Next thing you'll tell me you read Keats too."
"Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy -"
The quote stunned me again and I stared. Muscleboy quoting Keats. It was such a mind-boggling idea that it bore some looking into. THe man certainly couldn't be reading English Lit 101 while going 'duh' in the football field, could he?
Mixing rice and bits of unknown powdered stuff into a bowl, the good Lieutenant prepared dinner for the both of us. Unlike most of my gay friends who could whip out gourmet meals, I had difficulty finding a dinner fork much less cook. The gay gene must have mutated when it reached me. From the looks of things, it looked as if our SEAL boy was adept at everything. Could he adapt to the hundred million variations of the Gay Karma Sutra as well? That tight, agile body sure looked as if it would be very flexible.
"Yeah, us cowboys do read once in a while. Big letters, pretty pictures in them books." Ambling over playfully to my corner, he carefully released my knots.
"Asshole," I mumbled out as I gingerly rubbed my slightly chafed wrists.
Putting the pan over the fire and watching closely, Michael paused to send me a teasing look. "That's what I got - a real nice one too - but wishin' ain't gettin'."
The very fact that he'd made a joke about it surprised me and it made me laugh. "Get over yourself, Muldoon."
"You're saying you don't want to get it on with this?" Flashing me a 1000-watt smile that melted my knees, he playfully flexed his biceps not knowing that I'd have dragged him down for a nasty, dirty shag in a New York minute starting with a quick nibble on those perky tits, dark, mocca coloured penny sized nipples crowning the crest of his hard pecs. Or perhaps he knew? Did the man like to play with fire? Just give me a few more minutes and I'd be risking a fistful of Muldoon by leaping on the man trying to tear down those tight-fitting cammies with my teeth.
But I've always been an ornery guy. "In your dreams."
"That's me. Hot muscle and sex in one dreamy package." The amused glint in his eye assured me that he was pulling my leg again.
"Stop that," I ordered. "Where did you get your degree?"
It was an easy question and I knew it would draw out an almost automatic response. "Har-" He paused and stared into the fire. "Damn."
"Harvard?"
There was surprise in those big baby blues but he managed to cover it up nicely and continued coolly. "Nah, what made you think I got anywhere close to college anyhow?"
Crawling over to the fire, I arranged myself in a cross-legged position opposite him and gave him my best glare. "You don't fool me this time, cowboy. You went to Harvard?"
Seeing that he couldn't fool me any longer with his innocent 'aw-shucks' cover, he grinned. "Yeah, they had a fund for dumb ole cowboys. Got me a bunch of cool degrees."
The dry way he replied had me remembering our argument this morning. My earlier scathing comments about his mental faculties and the obvious signs of inbreeding in his bovine/simian ancestry had obviously stung his thick hide more than I had thought. "You're still burning about my dumb country hick comment this morning."
His answer was simple. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I certainly didn't mean it."
Using a small spoon to toss the rice around in the pan, he just gave a shrug. "No prob. It's a common misconception."
It obviously disturbed my tough SEAl boy more than he cared to admit and I was actually pleased to note that the man wasn't just shiny muscle and macho idiocy. Sure pretty boys with nice bodies were great to look at but once the eye-candy novelty wore off, it got boring. "But they're all wrong, aren't they? You're definitely more than another pretty face."
"You think I've got a pretty face?"
Trust the man to hit on the one thing that would embarass me. That had certainly slipped out without thinking and I tried to hedge. Rolling my eyes in response, I sighed. "Does it matter?"
Sure, all my questions had him staring elsewhere while poking at his fire but start on his looks and all of a sudden I've got his whole attention. Moving away from the fire, he smiled at me, bending those mesmerizing blue eyes on me. "Sure it does. I need to bolster my confidence after you dealt that terrible blow to my IQ. And hey, I'm not pretty. Devastatingly handsome. Drop-dead gorgeous.. not pretty."
As he lay out some snacks on the floor, I grinned back. "Get over yourself. So Muldoon, what did you do in Harvard?"
"Apart from getting laid? Getting it on with hot snotty Boston chicks who wanted a real taste of Montana beef?" His voice carried a faint hint of a sneer that had my spine tingling. Did the man possibly know that this Boston dude wanted some beef too? And from the looks of things, Montana had produced some pretty superior A grade beef in this gorgeous fella.
Controlling my insane urge to bite his neck - where do I get this weird thoughts from - I looked down at the snacks and tried ne. "Yes. What else did you do there? You couldn't be fucking off 24 hours a day."
"Got a degree in Electronics and Literature."
"Devastatingly handsome with brains. So why aren't you hitched up with some... god-danged filly and a herd of colts?"
He grinned in appreciation. "No one's managed to get their brand on me yet. And they're not likely too."
"Why not? Don't you want to bring up 21/2 kids in some suburban home with white picket fences?" Muldoon sure looked the type. Sure, he might have a body and face made for sin but he seemed to be a good olde country boy at heart. Or was that his ruse?
The look on his face was pure horror and I grinned. "Sorry, that doesn't appeal."
"How about a 200 hundred acre ranch with a variety of farm animals and assorted rambunctious kids?"
"That's a little more like it. But not right now. I've still got a ways to go before I think of settling down."
"You can drop the nasal twang."
His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "But you love it so much, don'tcha honey?"
"Bastard."
The man laughed and I shook my head. Damn him, I should have known. Mr Walking Orgasm couldn't have a laugh that would put me off him for the rest of my life, perhaps some whiny, hyena-like cackle. No, the man had a deep, resonant, even sexy laugh, the kind that sent a shiver up my spine in response.
Taking a look at me from under his heavy brows, he smiled slyly. "I think you've sworn more in these past few days than you've ever had in your entire life, haven't you?"
"You're a fucking bad influence," I said tartly.
He gave another one of his infectious laughs.