Crossroads

Crossroads

"Hey."

"Hey." PFC Whitney Beckman barely cracked open his eyes as his roommate stole in. Seconds later, the lights cut off, the only light from the moon, peeking thru blinds that never quite sealed them in.

Whitney knew that the hand slipping under his sweats was a bad idea. Eckers was in a bed less than two feet from his own, so jacking off was a really bad idea. But the smell of sex wafting off his battle just cinched the sexual frustration roiling in the young marine. Months of training and no chance of getting laid just made him a horny dog.

He slipped the sweats down low, his cock emerging with a whisper. Slowly jacking, he bit his lip, stopping the moans. Wet, nearly silent sounds in the dark stillness notched the frustration and pleasure just that much higher.

Teeth gritted against a belligerent moan.

So close.

Gasped in utter shock as wet heat sucked out his climax.

"Mmm, I knew you'd taste good."

He lay there, gasping and blinking, before reflexes kicked in and his leg kicked out.

Eckers landed with a thud and a curse. "What the fuck! Why'd ya do that for?"

"Me? Why the fuck did you do that?"

"I was helping out a friend."

"Don't fucking do that again! I'm not a fuckin' fag!"


~*~*~*~*~


"Marcus, you okay?"

Marcus Eckers barely glanced up from his lunch. "Yeah."

"Well, you don't sound like it." Jason White settled down next to his friend. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Jason eyed the brown hair young man, the blond highlights catching the sun. "C'mon, kid, tell me."

"It's just . . . ." Eckers eyes followed the trek of his blond roommate.

White's eyes followed the line of sight. "Problems with your battle?" he guessed.

"Yeah, I, uhm, sucked him off last night."

Jason whistled. "You lucky dog!"

"He kicked me off the bed and called me a fag."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."


~*~*~*~*~*~


Whitney warily eyed his battle as Marcus crossed the room with nothing but a towel on. Ever since the night Eckers had sucked him off, the young man from Arkansas had kept a wide berth. The closest he ever came to someone who even hinted at homosexuality was the rich and eccentric Alexander Julian. But he was all about Sam Waterson, so no problem there. But this was his battle, his roommate, for an indeterminate amount of time. And Marcus had been a friend from the get-go, so this estranged silence just wasn't working. Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge. "So I hear we're scheduled for another 24-on, 24-off detail."

The surprise was clear as Marcus jumped, grabbing his towel reflexively. "Uh, yeah, we start Monday."

"Man," Whitney muttered, eyes rolling, "I really hate those."

"Yeah, it's unnatural to ask a man to work for 24 hours straight."

"Exactly! Even though, technically, having that whole next day off isn't so bad."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Please, if we could get off this damn base it wouldn't be so bad. But we're stuck here, so those days aren't much help."

"True." Since the conversation had seemed to run its course and accomplished the ice breaking, Whitney picked up his book again.

The "Oh damn!" had him glancing up again. Marcus was at the window, staring down into the quad.

"What?"

"Have you seen the sarge's lady? She's a beautiful piece of work."

Whitney's eyes widened as Marcus began caressing his own chest, fingers plucking at the hardening chocolate brown nipples. The quiet moan snapped his eyes back up. Whitney swallowed hard. "I . . . I thought you were . . . ."

Marcus glanced over his shoulder, eyes raking in Whitney's half dressed body. "Gay?" Shrugged at his friend's nod. "Nah, I just like pretty people."

He nodded absently, clearing his throat. "So she's a looker?"

"Oh yeah." Beckoned him forward. "Come see for yourself."

Short blond hair flashed as he shook his head. "No, thanks, man. If the sarge catches us ogling his lady, he'd sink us for sure."

"Oh, c'mon, Beckman. Live a little!" Marcus turned away, back towards the window. "She's got the tightest ass."

Whitney watched in shock as he realized where Marcus' hand was. Mesmerized by the slow, lazy flicks of his wrist. Felt his body react to the breathy sounds of pleasure from the other man. Felt his brain melt as he watched Marcus' face dissolved in bliss.


~*~*~*~*~


"Can you imagine," Marcus whispered, "thrusting into tight heat like that? Hot, tight, slick skin squeezing around your cock." He moaned as he squeezed a little harder. Gasped as another's hand replaced his own. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glued to the handsome young man behind him. "Whitney?"

"Keep . . . keep talking. What would . . . you do to her? Tell me."

Nodded jerkily, moaned as the hand tightened. He panted in gasps as Whitney's other hand stripped away the towel, leaving him bare to anyone who cared to look in the window.

"Tell me."

Marcus moaned at the hard pull, just the way he liked it. "Put . . . put her on her knees."

"You want her to suck you?"

"No. . . no. . . fuck her. Fuck her like that." He arched into Whitney's hands, one on his cock, the other pinching, tugging at his sensitive nipples. Ground himself backwards into the hard cock covered by camos.

"Your favorite position?"

"Shit . . . yeah. Love it." Moaned as a warm mouth latched onto his neck, sucking, biting, and mouthing its way across his skin. "Favorite . . . favorite position to . . . to be fucked, too." He knew instantly that the words were a mistake, clenched his teeth against the ache of Whitney's still hand.

"Why?"

"What?" He turned, just the slightest to see Whitney's face. The other man wouldn't let him turn.

"Why do you like that position? Being fucked like that?" The words were quiet but sincere.

Taking a chance, he turned again, this time Whitney let him. Staring into those blue eyes, he slowly undid the zippered camos, pushing the sides open, and the boxers down enough to free the long, hard cock. Revealed in Whitney's breathy moan as he slowly jacked the silky length. "Because I like the feel of this," squeezed hard enough to make Whitney buck, "deep inside. As deep as you can go. On my knees, you can fuck me deep . . . hard."


~*~*~*~*~


Whitney watched in dazed pleasure as Marcus reached into the desk, pulling out what he thought was lube. It was. Held up his hand at Marcus' order, eyes hazily taking in the strong, male before standing entirely naked in front of him. Whitney jerked as cool gel slicked his fingers. He asked the question with his eyes.

Marcus answered by guiding the gel-slicked hand down and around himself.

Whitney's eyes widened as he realized what he was doing. How his fingers were widened Marcus' hole. How, oh God, how he was finger fucking another man. Before he could panic, his body shook with the pleasure of a slick hand wrapped around his cock. Stared in shock as Marcus fisted them both in shiny, wet hands.

Dazed seconds later, Marcus not only rolled a condom onto his cock, but lubed him as well. The other man turned, leaning over, palms on the desk, perfectly muscular ass high in the air.

"Do it, Whitney, fuck me."

So hard and aching, he didn't even want to argue, Whitney grabbed Marcus' hip with one hand, while the other guided his cock to that tempting hole. He slid in with a strangled, hitched breath. Marcus moaned, shoving back. They both choked on their moans.

At the sound, Whitney broke. Hips pumping hard, hands roughly grabbing at his lover, Whitney fucked himself and Marcus into oblivion.

The End