Captured By The Warriors

by Daniella Wright

  When the silence presses on, he clears his throat, mustache bristling. “If no one steps up, I’ll be forced to choose. I’m not going there without a medic.”

  I stare at Isaac, whose eyes are wide. I suspect the place is near where he got ambushed. If his friends are alive, which I’m unsure about, they may have taken shelter in such an area.

  It’s speculation, really, but that thought leads me to step up and volunteer. Barnes gives me a huge smile, his square jaw set.

  “Ah. That’s the spirit. Your name…?”

  “Jenny Willard.”

  I shake his hand, he thanks me for my bravery and sacrifice, and I can’t help but wonder what’s waiting for me on the other side.

  We’re not exactly in Disneyland, after all. We’re in a small corner of hell, and it’s accepting people early.

  Chapter Two

  We drive part way, and walk the rest. I’m stuck in a small convey with around twenty other soldiers, a small platoon with me as the sole medic. Eighteen of the twenty soldiers are men, and although a few give me sly glances, and nudge one another, the rest are focused upon their mission.

  The dry wind whips into my face. There are spots of green in the otherwise arid land. The mountains are tall and beautiful, stunning backdrops under the heat of an oppressive sun. The beauty seeps into my soul, but it’s a distraction from what’s really going on. I stare at the buildings that are decrepit and abandoned, knowing they can be rebuilt. There are tanks, stripped and riddled with holes.

  One less tank in the world is one less engine of destruction. However, all the ruined buildings and vehicles speaks to me of something. How many lives must have lived here, and been lost? I don’t want to know. It hurts my heart to think, to even picture people living their lives as normally as they can, before everything changes under one blast of terror.

  I’m not good with death. It’s why I try my hardest to prevent it.

  We leave our vehicles a few miles before we reach the town, and we’re made to walk the rest of the way. My feet sink into dusty earth, and the sun beats down upon us.

  Barely twenty minutes into the walk, Barnes suddenly barks for us to get low and find cover.

  Before I register what’s happening, one of the soldiers has pulled me to the ground behind a small bank, and the others have also fallen flat on their bellies.

  Overhead, planes whine and thrum overhead.

  When the danger appears to be clear, we’re made to keep moving. My heart is hammering frantically at this point. I have no idea if the planes above were friendly or enemy, and neither, it seems, do the men.

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” Barnes growls at me. “If you so much as think you hear a plane, yell it out. It’s not worth the gamble waiting to find out.”

  I swallow the nervous lump in my throat, already regretting my choice to volunteer.

  I don’t show it externally, though. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a coward. “Duly noted, commander.”

  We reach our destination two hours later, trudging through the heat, sweat pouring down our bodies. The town unveils around us. It’s a dilapidated collection of ruins. War has desolated this place. I imagine it once thrived as a beautiful, bustling town, with all the shops and their gleaming windows and the produce they try to sell. Now, all the windows are shattered or gone, most buildings have collapsed onto themselves, and there’s far too many places to hide for my liking. There could be many rebels stuffed along the cracks, and the first we’d know of them is when they start firing.

  Barnes directs the platoon, and he appears to know what he’s doing and where he’s going. Eventually, he stops by a wall that has overlapping triangles drawn upon it in red spray-paint, and he unleashes a high pitched whistle, piping it four times in quick succession.

  Nervous, we all wait. When two soldiers emerge from the rubble beyond the wall, the platoon instantly trains their guns upon them. Their response is quick and professional, if dominated by high nerves – because the two soldiers are not dressed in traditional camo, or are wearing any kind of identifiers.

  “Relax,” Barnes says, and his soldiers, to their credit, obey him without hesitation. “And nurse. These are your missing two men. Jason White and Alex Baker. We caught intel on them when they managed to send a messenger to our base.”

  “That’s right.” Jason salutes smartly. I catch a glimpse of his face through the grime. Blue eyes sparkle under a mop of dark hair. He has strong, definitive features, with a menacing aura about him that shows he knows how to fight. He’s damn handsome, honestly. Alex Baker’s not so shoddy himself, with that waspish blonde hair, and dark, dark eyes – and my heart thuds faster at the sight of them. Isaac would want to know this. Isaac was so fearful that he was the only survivor of his platoon.

  He’s not.

  “We’ve got a bunch of people underground in the makeshift bunker under the buildings,” Alex says in a deep, growling voice. “a lot of them are in need of patching and we don’t have the supplies or medical knowledge to help all the cases.” His dark eyes rest on me, and the conspicuous bag I have on, and the medic sling resting on my side. “Perfect,” he says.

  I repress my blush and say, “I’m here to help. Jenny Willard. Take me to the civilians.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am,” Jason responds, and we follow the two formerly missing soldiers into the underground shelter.

  The entrance is deftly concealed under a lot of rubble and a trapdoor, and we walk into an expansive basement where there’s about fifty people crammed in there.

  Shit, I think. I’m not sure if I have enough supplies for all of them, and I need to gauge who is in dire need of assistance first. My heart sinks when I see the grubby images of families, children and adults slumped together in huddled fear and despair, despondent because of the carnage wreaked on them from above, or the furtive lives they’ve had to lead. It’s horrible to see the victims, when all they’ve tried to do is live as peacefully and normally as they could in the land of their mothers and fathers, and many more before them.

  I don’t have time to focus on White and Baker’s tales, how they survived the ambush and found their way here, but I notice how they follow me with their eyes as I make my way around the room, briefly instructing some of the soldiers on the easier cases, the ones that don’t need my expertize at all.

  I do not speak their language, but I feel their pain, every scrape and bruise and dead eyed stare as a physical blow, and I do what I can to make these people suffer less. I cannot take it all away. I cannot remove the scars from their minds.

  The soldiers converse, and Jason and Alex both confront me upon my break, thanking me for my service, for coming all the way out here to help these people.

  “I’m always happy to help,” I reply, mustering up a smile, though frustration is rife. I should never have to be put in this position in the first place, to help others through their pain, to wipe away the physical wounds of war, and only watch as they contort themselves inside. There is a little boy, six years old, numb and speechless, with these eyes that penetrate your soul with horrific clarity. He has seen more than most see in a lifetime, and it’s etched onto his eyeballs, locked inside his mouth where he keeps the screams frozen.

  It messes me up, honestly, but I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to show these people I’m weak, because there is little respect for those who can’t control their emotions here. If you let them spill, you’re a liability. You’re a danger.

  “Bullshit, but I see that you genuinely care about everyone you’ve been tending to. You’re not numb to their pain. Seriously, thank you for coming out here again. Let me grab you a drink,” Jason says. I nod gratefully, and he walks off to grab a bottle from the canteen area. He flickers a smile at me which I return. When he comes back and I accept the water, Alex leaps in with his question.

  “What’s happening back at camp? Barnes is pretty tight lipped about the whole thing. How many of us made it back? It was chaos for a while.�
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  Now I have to tell them. I hold my composure as I say, “You have a friend back at the field hospital who’s super worried about you two. You were the ones who went missing during the attack, and he wanted me to inform him the second I found out about you guys. No signal here, though,” I reply wryly, and they nod.

  “Yeah. We have that problem as well. Who’s the guy?”

  “Isaac Magdy. He… I regret to say this, but he’s the only one who made it. The rest perished. And you two…”

  God. Their faces frost over, processing the news that only three of them survived out of the twenty-eight who were caught. Neither were aware at all. I presume they must have instantly fled for cover, maybe some of the townspeople spotted them and flagged them over. Whatever happened, they didn’t see, they didn’t know.

  I just have to watch the devastation, and offer what comfort I can.

  The truth in this place is a weapon just as painful as a gun.

  Chapter Three

  A day passes. A day of working, of snatched breaths of rest, and more time spent with the missing men of Isaac Magdy’s platoon. There’s only three women here as part of the army, and I notice I’m drawing a lot of attention from the civilians and soldiers alike. I hide my features as best as I can because I don’t want to be a distraction, but blonde wisps of hair still curl out, and my eyes are still a striking, luminous green, in a room that is full of darker eye shades and darker skins.

  The attention I feel most flattered by, however, is Jason and Alex’s.

  It’s hard not to find the stares of those men invigorating and powerful. I tell myself often that I’m not here to fool around, I’m here to get the job done and serve my country, but it’s easier said than done, when you feel layers of frustration building up into you, and when it’s months and months without any sort of release, it does mean your mind starts wandering away, and thinking all sorts of thoughts.

  I had one vivid dream, hunched up in my corner of the bunker, trying to get to sleep for the night as the cold wrapped around. Honestly, I just wanted to visualize the scenario, thinking I’d get tired enough and fall asleep before anything happened. I imagined having conversations with Alex and Jason. I imagined we were sitting at the dining table back at home. We’d be talking about anything, really. The weather. If any of us have pets. How glad we are to finally be back home, rather than living under a foreign sun, wondering what sort of horrors might be awaiting us the next day.

  I’m already getting into the dream, smiling with my eyes closed. They’re both stunningly handsome, of course, wearing their tuxedos. Yes, they have tuxedos in my dream. Alex has that mop of blond hair, those dark eyes staring through long eyelashes, with his muscles barely contained under the suit. Jason has an easy going manner, he’s lounging back in his chair, blue eyes scintillating as he regards me. I like how he nods intently at my words.

  Then, for whatever reason, they decide to take things further. Their eyes rake along the twin globes of my chest, and of course, I’m now conveniently stripping down at this point. Maybe they asked to see what I look like beneath the uniform, and I oblige.

  I stand there in front of them in the dining room, and the heat between my legs is already greedy, longing for something to slide there and fill me up. They both give me knowing smirks, and they start to peel off their suits as well. The ties and shirts come off, and I’m presented with muscular perfection – a thin and toned chest, and a broad barrelled chest that looks as if it holds a hefty set of lungs. Both of them are completely different body types, and yet both have the type of physique to die for.

  In this scenario, when they take off their boxers, monster cocks spring to life, standing to attention, eager to trial me out. I’m just as eager to feel them inside me, to swallow, to do anything with them, just as long as my thirst is satisfied.

  I can’t help it. The dream is getting good, and I reach my hand down between my legs now, idly playing with myself down there as I envision the next string of events to happen with these men. I’m not always as nice as I appear on the outside. I have needs like everyone else. Longings. Desires.

  I wonder which of the two would touch me first. Perhaps Jason, reaching those long fingers towards me to caress my body, to make me skin shudder under his touch. Maybe Alex Baker will approach me as well, to run his hands over my cheeks, then reach to kiss my neck, even as Jason thrusts his tongue into my mouth. The heat those two generate is empowering, and I bask in it, desire it, and want them to take me and to never stop.

  The movements of my hand intensify as I imagine this. I’m getting super excited by now, and my fingers probe around my core, which is slick with arousal.

  I go further. I imagine Alex behind me admiring my curves, running his hands along my sides and then squeezing my rear, before with a gasp, both men embrace me from front and back. One erection presses against my stomach, the other is insistent against my back, and the promise of what’s to come sends a series of uncontrollable shivers through me.

  My dream fast forwards a little bit then, taking us all to the bed, and I’m kneeling, my legs spread decadently as Alex takes me from behind, his gorgeous length sliding into me over and over again.

  I gasp in triumph and pleasure as he slams into me, and I see Jason’s manhood protruding in front of me, and I gently wrap my mouth around it, making sure I don’t hurt him, and I use my tongue to give him the highest pleasure I can.

  If I’m honest, I’m not a fan of the idea of a blowjob, but I am a fan of the idea of giving someone the best pleasure possible.

  Thinking about his eyes closing in bliss, thinking about Alex pumping into me makes me gasp in pleasure in my stingy tent. My fingers work faster, now brushing more often than not over my bundle of nerves, seeking to bring myself as high as I can before I stumble over the edge.

  I imagine how close we all must be, how into each other we are, and how my core is hot, longing and needy for them. I feel the onslaught of my orgasm beginning to ripple through, and it takes me like a tidal wave, juddering out through every limb until I relax and tremble to a peaceful halt, allowing my fantasy to tumble away with my orgasm.

  It’s certainly one of the most intense climaxes I’ve had in a while, and I lie there in my bed, slightly dazed, panting, waiting for my heart rate to slow down and normalize, so I can perhaps focus on sleeping again.

  If they’re anything like what I’ve just imagined of them, then I think I’ll be hard pressed to keep myself calm. I’ve already seen what their bodies look like, after all. And I think they’re interested in me for sure.

  I wake up, happy, content, and refreshed for the day. I tend to the civilians, fall asleep after a long day of work, and again allow my mind to run over scandalous, salacious thoughts of Jason and Alex.

  They whisk me out of the shelter barely a few hours after I’ve woken the next day for a quick tour around the surrounding countryside, not where the ruin and disrepair is, but where the beauty still lingers in the environment, in the swooping lakes of the mountain bases, the green flooded fields beyond the arid dust, and the wildlife that thrives in the fluctuating terrain. I sit in the back of the ATV they drive, one of the army ones hidden out back from the main hiding spots, and although I protest and speak of the potential dangers, they tell me it’s obvious I need a break. They can see that I’ll go crazy with worry over my patients, especially the ones where I don’t have enough supplies for, and have to make do with other, imperfect props.

  I feel a little sad as I observe the two men in front of me, as they chatter and point out all the things they find fascinating about the area. In another place, another time, I think I could have gotten along really well with them. If either asked me on a date back at home in Michigan, I would have accepted it without a second’s thought.

  No need to mention that I’ve already been thoroughly imagining them in another scenario, barely a few days after I’ve tended to them.

  Jason, with his blue eyes, and windswept dark hair, muscle
s slender but toned under his clothes, waves around to show me the scenery, garrulous and enthusiastic about what he sees. Alex Baker, less talkative, dark eyes scowling from light blonde hair, with muscles closer to a gorilla’s build, helpfully cuts into Jason’s speech every now and then with observations of his own.

  Both privates seem like good friends, and I’m charmed by the both of them, smiling as they share a little piece of themselves.

  Jason taps the steering wheel. “I have to admit, sometimes when things get too much, taking walks soothes me. Whether it’s at home or here. There’s a lot of beauty. We think these places are just nothing but ruin and desert, but they’re not. There’s a lot of green,” Jason says, pointing at a copse of trees. The ATV thrums past, startling the remnants of wildlife concealed there.

  “I listen to music,” I admit, “or I just close my eyes and pretend nothing else exists in the world. I don’t do so much walking or driving, but it’s certainly wonderful to see the power of nature.”

  “It is!” Jason exclaims, smiling at me. His smile temporarily steals my heart, and I imitate it. “But you know, it can be hard at times. The fighting, the stress of everything that’s going on – it makes me want to escape sometimes, you know? To shrug off the word around me and try and remember the beauty that exists. The view certainly helps to keep me in good spirits.” At this, his smile turns bashful. It goes straight to my heart, and I feel hard pressed not to just start melting on the spot.

  “What view are you talking about?” I respond, though I’m well aware of his attention upon me, along with the twin stare of Alex Baker’s eyes. Jason’s hand seems to clutch the wheel tighter as he replies, “You, of course.”

  Alex smiles. “I’m inclined to agree with my friend.”

  Oh my. My cheeks flush crimson, unable to hide behind the mask I’m usually good at propping over my face. I know it’s not the best place or time, but damn, these guys are attractive. Of course, now my treacherous mind decides it’s a fantastic idea to start picturing what it might be like to have the both of them in bed with me, figuring out what kind of lovers they might be. Alex seems like the strong and silent type, utterly focused in the act of pleasure. Jason seems like the type who probably wants to tease, running his fingers along soft skin, enjoying the impact his touch has.