A Soldier's Song

Title: A Soldiers Song
Author: Cathlene Alicia Hammer
Penname: DeityOfDeath
Pairings: Original
Category: Romance, Drama, Death-dark.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi~! There is Boy Boy Lovu ahead~! And this is a tear jerker. ;_;
Disclaimer: I do not know everything there is to know about the arm forces or their traditions so if I make a mistake then that makes me human.

A Soldiers Song



When had my love reached such a height of passion? I remember lying in his arms and dreaming of what would come and none of those dreams held what was now our reality. Why start from the end of a story when you can start from the beginning?

I had just arrived at one of the most decorated and honored places in all the United States. I was lucky enough to have earned a spot in training at the Arlington National Cemetery. Upon stepping off the bus I had witnessed one of the saddest and most moving sights. That sight was of a funeral given to a fallen soldier. Why had it touched me so? I couldn’t have explained it then. Can I now?

Yes.

I had met my head officer and signed in to begin my training and upon entering that office I had met him. He was six four with stern emerald eyes and high brows. He had a delicate jaw line and was an amazing image in his uniform of navy blue with his medals and medallions shined and polished to blinding perfection and his hat stiffly upon his head. He had stared past me at some unknown place as he stood erect upon that sacred ground. He was something unattainable, or at least that’s what I thought.

I became his charge and he trained me thoroughly and strictly, reprimanding me with every minute mistake I made. I had thought him cruel and spiteful and could only imagine what he thought of me.

It had been on a morning like this one when I had seen him as something other than what I had before. He stood there behind the velvet links, rifle in hand as he meticulously stepped into place and paced twenty one paces back and forth, counting to twenty when he paused before pacing twenty one paces again. This hard, honor bound man was a thing of beauty as he stood protecting the Unknown soldiers grave. It was when it came time for the Changing of the Guard that he became even more beautiful in my eyes, as he carefully and mechanically went through every twirl of the rifle stopping to shine and polish the bayonet. He then ceremoniously passed the rifle onto the new guard and stepped from the area in a brisk march. I watched with wonder as that perfect man seemed to look straight through me and yet right at me.

He had that same look when we were off duty. We had shared a drink and our pasts. He then shared himself with me. My first time had been with him, my stoic soldier.

He had so gently pushed me onto the bed and ever the soldier; he slowly and carefully unbuttoned each shiny brass button and carefully unclipped and unhinged each medal and badge, button and ribbon. It was a slow sensual thing to watch as he set each item carefully on the dresser and peeled the jacket off his muscular frame, hanging it on the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his starched shirt quicker than he had the jacket and just as quickly had rid himself of the matching slacks. I had already peeled my jacket off and was about halfway done unbuckling my belt when he had laid himself against me, molding our bodies close together. I could feel the press of him against my lower back, a firm presence that sent my pulse into a frantic rhythm. He wrapped his muscled arms around my waist and lowered his head so that he could lay it upon my shoulder which gave him an advantage point for kissing and suckling my ear. He nibbled his way around my jaw and stopped at my lips.

Lingering at my lips he chastely pressed against them with his own licking and nibbling until I relented and opened for him. His tongue seemed to take over all my mouth with its demanding probing and seemed even more adventurous when I had gained the nerve to join him in the tangled tongue dance. I could taste him, the bitter taste of lemon and coffee and feel him with his muscled chest and arms enveloping my smaller frame which also enveloped me in his smell of fresh grass after the rain and sunshine.

He turned me so quickly to face him that I stumbled in my shined black shoes, falling further into those warm muscular arms and those deep glassy green eyes, eyes that were clouded in passion. He leaned over me pressing his warm lips atop my slightly shaved head.

“It must have been a crying shame for the barber to have to have cut such beautiful blonde curls off.”

I stared at him and realized that he was paying me a compliment.

“My mother thought it was.”

He smiled. It was the first time that I had seen such a thing on his stoic face. He had a beautiful smile with dazzling white teeth. His smile had reached his eyes leaving a mixed beauty of lust and laughter. I could not restrain myself. I placed both my palms on either side of his face and brought him down to kiss me again as I fell back onto that bed. I held him in my hands and he placed his own atop mine as if afraid to break the contact between us. I kicked off my shoes while he kicked off his pants in an almost frantic movement. Our hands played across our bodies like fanatical musicians lost in some concerto. Each touch eliciting a moan and gasp and each kiss a small mercy between the aching in our loins. Under garments flew in different directions and my body writhed in pain and pleasure as he gently spread my thighs so that he could insert one finger into my puckered entrance. I felt my face flush as embarrassment coursed through me.

Never had I done such a thing. I wasn’t regretting it. With the pressure that digit made I writhed and gasped as a second had joined the first. They moved inside me, searching and prodding and when one of those long digits had brushed by a tender spot inside me I lifted myself off the bed crying out in pleasure. I heard a small chuckle as I looked through half lidded eyes at him. He removed his fingers slowly and I felt empty an emptiness I had never felt before.

I didn’t have long to miss the feeling of being filled as he slid the tip of himself past that first ring of muscle, slowly. He knelt between my legs his eyes closed and a look of concentration wrinkling his brow. As he pushed inside, he filled me completely with himself.

I felt complete in another way. Complete in a way that had never occurred to me. He had filled some void deep inside of me. As he slid out; almost pulling completely out, I felt a yearning to be filled again and he rewarded me by filling me again and again with each stroke of his hips.

“Robert!”

At some point I had called out his name in pleasure as he filled me with his seed, with his warmth, with him. When he had pulled out from my body he lay down next to me and we wrapped our arms around each other in solemn silence until our breathing had calmed. We then discussed what dreams we had had and what our futures could be. We had talked all night and into the morning light. I had watched as he left the bed to shower and return to dress just as meticulously as he always had. I watched as his back rippled with each movement and as the morning light through the curtains made his black hair look auburn. That was when I drifted into a warm sleep.

That was the first and last time that I had ever called out his name as he filled me. A week later he was sent away to be leader of a unit in the Middle East. His farewell to me had been my graduation, my final step to becoming an Arlington Guard. He himself passed on the rifle at the changing of the guard and I paced my twenty paces as he paced away.

I received one letter from him and it had stated that I had filled some void in him. I wrote him but never mailed my letter because a week after receiving his, I received one more letter. The letter had been typed and started with “We regret to inform you”.


He had died in the line of duty. He had died in battle protecting a young girl. I had lost the one thing that filled my void. But, I hadn’t lost what he taught me. Even as I watched his casket travel down that cobble stone path, atop that horse drawn cart. I didn’t shed a single tear as I folded his flag with the stoic grace he had taught me. I knelt in front of his younger brother and mother presenting it to them. Each cried tears of pain and sorrow the likes that I could never. I watched as mother and son walked away while the Soldiers Song played. A young woman sang along softly.

“Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E\'en tho\' it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!”

We all saluted and rifle blasts filled the air. I stood there unaware that an errant tear had escaped, gently trailing down my right cheek where a month ago his lips had been gently pressed.

“Tho\' like the wanderer, The sun goes down, Darkness be over me, My rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I\'d be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!”

I had watched as others marched away and then I had fallen into step behind them. A letter sealed in an envelope left upon the fresh dirt.

Each day since then a day never goes by without my faithful walk past his grave and with each walk I sing that song and think about how he once watched over me. I now watch over him and his grave and in my own way stay near to him. Each time I see his pure white tombstone amongst those that are moss covered and graying I sing my favorite part of that departing song for soldiers.

“And if on joyful wing, Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upward I fly; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!”

The End