With one last lingering lick, I release him. A long string of saliva connects my lower lip to the tip of his cock before it breaks. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my chin slick with drool. “Sorry,” I say. “I got carried away.”
“I’m not complaining. Trust me.” He’s breathless, leaning against the tree, his hard cock glistening in the moonlight. He tucks himself back in, buttoning his pants. “Come on. Let’s go. I want more of that. Way more. And I want to enjoy it without having to look over our shoulder.”
He pulls me to my feet, and then does something I don’t expect. He grabs my face in both hands and kisses me, a quick, clumsy press of his lips against mine. It’s over before I can properly register it, but it leaves me reeling.
“Sorry,” he says, looking away. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I manage. “You can do it again anytime.”
He smiles, a genuine smile that reaches his blue eyes. “Good to know.” Then he grabs my hand, and we start running through the trees, breathlessly, a couple of fugitives in the moonlight.
I can’t wait to get him back in my mouth, to feel that perfect fit again, to taste more of him, to swallow the hot proof of his pleasure. And to finally get some relief of my own.
The trees start to thin out ahead. I can make out the shape of a large fallen log, its roots torn from the earth. The gentle gurgle of water. But as we get closer, there’s another sound too. A sound that’s out of place.
Emilio slows, holding up a hand for me to stop. We creep the rest of the way, moving quietly through the underbrush.
The sound grows louder. A rhythmic slapping. Wet. Harsh.
We crouch behind a thicket of ferns, peering through the leaves. The moonlight is stronger here, bathing the small clearing in silver. And in the center of it, illuminated like a scene on a stage, are two figures.
One is bent over the fallen log, naked from the waist down, uniform pants pooled around his boots. His head is bowed, his back arched, his knuckles white where he grips the weathered wood.
Behind him is another soldier, still fully dressed except for his cock, which he’s driving into the man’s ass in long, powerful thrusts.
The slapping sound is their bodies colliding. Flesh on flesh.
I don’t have to see their faces to know who they are. I’d recognize those bodies anywhere. I’ve been watching them for the last three weeks, running drills, doing push-ups, hauling gear.
I’ve been drooling over them in secret.
Two of our squadmates are fucking right in front of us.
8
My heart hammers in my throat. Emilio’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, his fingers digging in. I can feel his whole body go rigid beside me.
Never in a million years would I have expected this. Not even in my dirtiest fantasies. Never would I have thought that Kade, the cocky alpha, the one who’s always so perfect and in control, would be bent over a log taking it up the ass. And from Yassir, of all people. Quiet, serious Yassir, who’s always so by the book.
But there’s nothing quiet about him now. He’s pounding into Kade with brutal intensity, his hips slapping against Kade’s ass, grunting with the effort.
“Take it,” he growls with a particularly deep thrust.
And Kadedoestake it. More than that. He begs for it. He looks over his shoulder, and in the moonlight, I can see the blissed-out, desperate look on his face. “Harder, fucker,” he pants. “Give me everything you’ve got. Make me feel it for a week.”
“Yeah?” Yassir’s hand slides up Kade’s spine, grips the back of his neck. “You want the whole squad wondering why you’re walking funny?”
“Fuck yes.”
Yassir slams into him, making him cry out. “Greedy bastard. You’re a slut for this cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Kade whimpers, shoving back against him. “God, yes. I’m your slut, Yas. Harder.”
What in the actual fuck?
My mind can barely process what I’m seeing, and I don’t know what’s more shocking—the fact that they’re doing this at all, or the fact that Kade is submitting so completely to Yassir. The power dynamic is the complete opposite of what it is in camp. Out here, in the moonlight, Yassir is in charge, and Kade is at his mercy.
And it’s hot. So fucking hot. My dick is leaking, precum soaking through the front of my pants. I ache to pull it out, to stroke myself in rhythm with Yassir’s thrusts, but I’m too scared to move.
