Friendly Fire

by Cari Z.

  “From the way you rubbed up against me, leading with the things you liked the most.” Lennox’s voice was smug as he pinched Elliot’s nipple until Elliot gasped. “These.”

  “I like other things,” Elliot protested, but it sounded uncertain to his ears. Fuck it, he didn’t care; he was allowed to be overwhelmed under the circumstances.

  “I hope so, considering what I’m about to do.” The hand on his dick backed off, sliding down to tug at his balls. Elliot spread his legs wider and made room for Lennox to crouch between his thighs, then did his best to hold in his moans as Lennox licked the slick head of his cock. Lennox’s touch stayed light just long enough for Elliot to catch his breath, and then Lennox went for it, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked straight down in one smooth motion.

  “Aaah—ah, fuck,” Elliot breathed, sliding his hands over Lennox’s gorgeous shoulders and neck, finally sliding into the long, thick hair on top of his head. He did his best not to pull, but it was hard given how tight Lennox’s lips were around his dick, how amazing his tongue felt as it licked a line up his shaft before curling around the head. Lennox went down again and again, fucking his own mouth with Elliot’s dick as he tugged at Elliot’s swollen nipple and tightening sac. He found the round divot in Elliot’s side, the spot where the second bullet had ripped into him. The skin in the center was permanently numb, but the skin around it was hypersensitive. Lennox touched the scar more gently than he did anything else, almost reverently, and Elliot’s entire abdomen clenched in reaction.

  It shouldn’t have been long enough for Elliot to come, but he was definitely going to come. “No, no.” He pulled Lennox back until he released Elliot’s flesh with a wet pop. “Fuck,” he moaned. “You have to stop.”

  “You haven’t screamed yet.”

  “But I want to, I’m there, fuck, I’m there.” Any more there and he’d actually scream. “Much further and you’ll be the one screaming because you’ll have to wait for my refractory period to pass before I can fuck you.”

  Lennox chuckled from where he was crouching low on the bed. He sounded like the goddamn Devil. “Who says I need your dick to fuck me? You could always just use your hands.”

  “Oh my god, don’t be mean, come here.” Elliot drew Lennox up for another kiss, wrapping him up in his long legs and rutting up against his stomach. Elliot wasn’t cut like Lennox but he liked to run, and now he was grateful for every mile that had made him stronger, made his grip a little more inexorable. He felt Lennox stop resisting, then sink his weight into the cradle of Elliot’s legs, and finally relax.

  “You want it,” Elliot whispered, and this time it was Lennox who shuddered. Elliot grinned, a glow of satisfaction spreading with the knowledge that he was right, and better yet: he was desired. “You want to sink down on my cock and ride me like a goddamn wave.”

  “Maybe I’d prefer a bucking bronco,” Lennox suggested, but Elliot shook his head. He had Lennox’s number now.

  “You like to hand it out rough but you’re going to take me nice and slow, gonna let me fill you up and stretch you out until you have to remind your lungs to keep breathing,” he said darkly, and holy shit, what had gotten into him? He usually wasn’t much for dirty talk, but apparently tonight was breaking a lot of his normal sex conventions.

  “Lots of talk, not so much doing,” Lennox said, but his voice was ragged and his cock was so hard against Elliot’s stomach it wouldn’t be surprising if it left a bruise.

  “I’ll back it up.” Elliot opened his legs and pushed Lennox away just enough to twist toward his bedside table and awkwardly get to the drawer. He found what he was reaching for after a moment and held them up. “Lube, condoms. Let’s do this thing.”

  “You sound like a frat boy,” Lennox said, but he was already kicking his jeans off of his feet.

  “Fucked many frat boys, have you?”

  “Only one, but he was enough for me to know the type.”

  The mysterious Oliver, most likely. Elliot pushed the thought away. Lennox might be a one-night stand, but by God, he was Elliot’s to have right now and no one else’s. “Come up here.” He pulled until Lennox was straddling his chest, looking down at Elliot like he was something novel that he couldn’t quite understand. Good. Elliot opened the bottle of lube and got his fingers wet. “I’m going to touch you now,” he said calmly, “and you’re going to fuck my mouth. Try not to come too soon.”

  “Are you always a cocky little—” Lennox stuttered and went silent as Elliot’s finger circled his hole, stroking the tight muscle. Elliot didn’t know how long it had been since Lennox had been fucked, but a gentle press of his finger got him easily inside.

  “Have you had someone else in here lately?” Elliot asked, his voice husky as he thought about some anonymous dick plunging in and out of Lennox. Elliot wasn’t usually possessive, especially not of one-night stands, but something about Lennox made him want to push. “Or have you been riding your own fingers? Maybe a toy or two, a dildo that scratches the itch when you’ve got to have that feeling of being stuffed? Or maybe you slick up a plug, stretch your pretty hole around it, and walk around your apartment that way, to ride the sensation longer.”

  Lennox moaned, and Elliot grinned triumphantly. “If you didn’t before,” he said, hovering his lips over Lennox’s dripping cock, “you will now.”

  Then Elliot closed his lips over the head and went down on Lennox, taking him into his mouth at the same time he slid his finger as deep as it could go into Lennox’s ass. He avoided his prostate, pumping his index finger slowly while he bobbed up and down on Lennox’s cock. Despite his jokes, he didn’t want Lennox to come too soon. His whole body ached with the thought of sinking his dick inside the man.

  He got to two fingers comfortably and was about to add a third when Lennox pushed him away. “I’m good, I don’t need more.”

  Elliot licked his lips. “Um.” How did he say this with any hint of modesty? He didn’t. “Look, you’ve sucked my dick already tonight. You know how wide I am. You’re not stretched enough.”

  Lennox shrugged. “I like really feeling it go in.”

  Pain kink. Well, Elliot could work with that. “As long as we’re not doing damage.”

  Lennox slid down Elliot’s body until he could roll a condom onto Elliot’s cock. “You’re big,” he said, “but you’re not going to do any damage. Trust me.”

  “I do.” It wasn’t just a bedroom phrase; Elliot felt reassured by Lennox’s calm statement, like he had from the moment Lennox had stepped inside his house earlier to set up the alarm system. It was a bizarre feeling to have for a stranger, this sense of trust, but he wasn’t going to fight it. One night. It was only for a night.

  Lennox stroked a lube-slick hand over the condom, then shuffled his knees forward a few inches and held Elliot’s cock still as he began to lower his body onto it. His dark eyes squeezed shut and Elliot watched, utterly captivated, as Lennox slowly worked Elliot into him, bit by bit, tension reluctantly retreating as Lennox persisted until, finally, his ass was flush to Elliot’s thighs.

  “Fuck,” Elliot said breathlessly. “You’re something else.”

  “Motivated,” Lennox said, his voice a little tense but utterly satisfied at the same time. “I’m motivated.” He leaned forward, and Elliot couldn’t stop himself from touching Lennox’s abdomen. He reveled in the bunch and stretch of the muscles even as he let his hands drift closer to Lennox’s cock.

  Lennox shuddered and began to move, lifting up slightly before he sank back down. He was still tight, tight enough that the movement had to sting, but if he didn’t mind, then Elliot wasn’t going to bring it up. He had plenty of other things to talk about anyway.

  “Do you want my hand?” he asked, scratching his fingertips through the wiry hair at the top of Lennox’s groin. “You want me to jerk you off while you bounce on my cock?”

  Lennox groaned, and a bead of pre-come appeared at the tip of his dick, sliding slowly down the crown. “Or do you even nee
d that?” Elliot fought to keep his voice level as he thrust up, meeting Lennox’s downward stroke in a rhythm that shouldn’t have been so easy to find, hard and deep. “You could probably get off like this, couldn’t you?”

  “Prob’ly,” Lennox admitted. Most of his tension was gone, replaced by amusement and hot, pleased desire. “But only because it’s been a while.”

  Elliot chuckled, then groaned as Lennox suddenly clenched down on him, almost too tight for Elliot to thrust, before he relaxed. “I don’t believe you,” he gasped, determined to get the last word. “I think you’ve got a slutty streak a mile wide and you love this so much it wouldn’t matter if you last got fucked a year or an hour ago, because you like working for it.” Lennox started to go faster, and Elliot put his hands on the man’s hips, holding him just hard enough to keep him from slipping off in his haste.

  “You like having it dragged out of you kicking and screaming,” Elliot said, more sure than ever as he rubbed his thumbs into the pockets of Lennox’s hips, cut muscle and smooth skin slipping beneath his hands. “You like the fight, don’t you?” He leaned up, biting his own lip to keep from coming because fuck, it was almost impossible to feel Lennox like this, to look at him, and not come. “You like the fight, but tonight I’m gonna be the winner.” He moved one hand to Lennox’s dick and stroked him quickly, his grip so tight it had to hurt.

  Lennox’s breath stuttered to a halt in his chest. His back arched and his head fell back, every muscle in his body clenching as he came, spilling across Elliot’s hand and abs. It was more than Elliot could resist. His toes curled so hard they pulled the sheets free as he followed, filling the condom and crying out with bone-melting satisfaction.

  Fuck, he thought as he tried to catch his breath, you would think it had been months for me and not him. He was shattered, gloriously twitchy, overstimulated, and utterly useless.

  Warm hands and a warmer cloth on his stomach perked him up, and Elliot’s eyes shot open. “What—”

  “You seemed like you were enjoying the afterglow. I didn’t want to interrupt,” Lennox said with a smile that was only a little smug. He’d already disposed of the condom and cleaned himself up—Jesus, when had all that happened?

  “Fuck.” Elliot swiped a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m usually way better than this when it comes to sex.”

  “If that’s true, then you’re courting an aneurysm every time you get off.”

  Elliot resisted the urge to smack Lennox’s thigh. “Shut up, jerk.”

  Lennox laughed, and Elliot chuckled with him, slowly sitting and resting with his head on one bent knee for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed during sex. Usually it was a more focused affair, him working to get himself and his partner off before a night of uneasy sleep and a rapid morning-after that ended with no numbers exchanged and no promises to meet again.

  “I still maintain that I won this round,” Elliot tried. Lennox politely didn’t scoff. He did argue, though.

  “Seeing as how I was able to get up and move around while you were still practically unconscious, I’m thinking we should call this one a draw.”

  “You might have a point.” Elliot reluctantly got to his feet. “Let me get you a toothbrush.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I saw the spares on the bottom shelf.” Lennox’s smirk was back. “It looks like you buy them in bulk.”

  Elliot shrugged. “‘Be prepared,’ that’s my motto.” He headed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, leaving Lennox to make himself comfortable under the covers. By the time Elliot returned, all that was visible of Lennox was the curve of one honey-colored shoulder and the back of his head against a pillow.

  “Are you tired?” Elliot asked quietly as he settled onto his own side of the bed.

  “After that? Definitely.” There was something about the line of his mouth in the moonlight, though, something faintly deprecating that Elliot didn’t understand. “Listen, you should know . . . I get nightmares. Bad ones, sometimes. I won’t hurt you”―and shit, Elliot hadn’t known that was a possibility―“but I might wake you up in the night. So I apologize in advance.” He smiled, but it seemed a little grim. “You can always kick me to the couch if you need to. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “If I need to I will.” But I hope I don’t. Elliot wanted Lennox to leave on a good note tomorrow, not contemplating an evening marred by things he couldn’t help. His assurance seemed to satisfy Lennox, though, who nodded and closed his eyes. He fell asleep while Elliot watched, clearly more exhausted than even their vigorous sex could account for. Maybe he had a long day.

  Or maybe his nightmares are more of a problem than he’s letting on. It didn’t matter. Either way, Elliot would give him a morning to remember once he woke up. It was the least he could do for such an unexpectedly entertaining evening.

  Partial transcription of most recent appointment with West, Lennox, Staff Sergeant US Army Rangers (R), January 28, 3:12 p.m.:

  LW: What do you expect me to say about my nightmares?

  JS: I don’t have any particular expectations, Lennox. You can tell me whatever you feel comfortable with. Keep in mind, though, that you can only get as much out of your therapy as you’re willing to put in. Making progress in anything is hard work.

  LW: I’m no stranger to hard work. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want to let you analyze every thought or feeling that flies through my head though.

  JS: And that’s fine. But for a lot of people with PTSD, talk therapy is one avenue they use to discover coping methods for the challenges in their daily lives. Some of those challenges are severe, others are relatively minor. I’d like to help, whatever it is you’re dealing with, and the only issue I know for certain about is your problem sleeping, so it seems like the logical place to start.

  LW: Logical. Yeah. (Long pause.) Have you ever been in a position of authority over another person?

  JS: I’ve been a supervisor for several graduate—

  LW: No, I’m talking about holding a position of absolute authority. I’m talking about being the literal hand of God here, Doc, making life or death decisions.

  JS: I can’t say that I have.

  LW: Well, I have. I made a bad decision, and now I make it over and over again every night.

  Lennox woke up from a dreamless sleep to something barking. It took a minute for him to get his bearings: he was in a bed that was twice as soft as his, in a room three times bigger than his own, and he was stark naked under the blankets. That was right; he’d hung around for a rather enthusiastic night at Elliot’s, and judging from how relaxed he was, he’d slept soundly. He was alone now, though.

  The front door opened and then slammed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he heard Elliot chant loudly. The barking continued for another moment, then turned to distressed whimpers as the swearing tapered off. Lennox rolled out of bed and grabbed his jeans, not bothering with anything else as he pulled them on and hurried down the stairs.

  Seated at the base of the front door, his knees drawn up and back pressed to the wood, was Elliot. He was whiter than the wall right beside him, and wasn’t even looking at Holly, who had her front paws on his hip, her muzzle prodding anxiously at his side.

  “Elliot?” Lennox took his hand off the pocket where he kept his pistol and knelt on the floor beside Elliot, lightly touching his shoulder. He was relieved when Elliot’s gaze tracked over to Lennox’s face. “Hey, you okay?”

  Elliot’s eyes were too wide, his expression too blank, but after a moment he managed a tiny smile. “I . . . Yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry, what a terrible way to wake up.”

  “I’ve had worse,” Lennox said. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a . . .” Elliot swallowed hard. “There’s a snake on my porch.”

  That didn’t seem like too big a deal. Did Elliot have a phobia? Lennox opened his mouth, but Elliot cut him off. “Wait, I’m explaining this badly. Let me be more specific: there’s half a snake on my porc
h.”

  Before Lennox could ask for clarification, because really, What the hell?, Elliot kept going. “It’s stuffed inside a plastic bag. You know the ones that come with newspapers to keep the snow off of them? I don’t get a paper delivered but some of my neighbors do. I thought it was a mistake, so I bent over to pick it up and Holly was barking and I didn’t realize something was wrong until I tried to lift it and it was heavy. I looked inside and . . . there it was. Is. It’s still there. So I dropped it, grabbed Holly, and slammed the door shut.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck, I hate things like that. Dead things. Dead animals.”

  “Ah, wait, hang on.” Lennox pulled Elliot’s arms away from his face. “We need to clean these before you go touching yourself.”

  “Why?”

  Lennox sighed. “Because there’s blood on them.”

  Elliot stared down at his hands like he’d never seen them before, turning them this way and that and wincing when he saw the dark streaks around his fingertips. “It’s cold,” he murmured. “The blood. The snake was stiff, close to frozen. Shit, there’s blood on my fingers.”

  Lennox might be no good at comforting, but he could recognize a panic attack in the making. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. You could use a hot drink, and we can get you cleaned up.”

  “I’m fine,” Elliot protested, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can quite stand yet, but I’m fine. I need a minute or two here, though.”

  “You’ve had a minute or two already,” Lennox said gently. “Are you sure you want to stay on the floor?”

  “Yes. Just for a bit.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” Lennox checked that Holly wasn’t going to be able to reach Elliot’s fingertips, then got up and headed for the kitchen. He added water to the Keurig, popped a pod in, and then let the coffee brew while he hunted down the sugar. It was how Elliot had taken his coffee last night after dinner: black and sweet, whereas Lennox doctored his own with as much cream as he could pour into it, the remnant of dealing with too many years of shitty canteen coffee.