Love on a Battlefield

by Posy Roberts

I stood, wrapped my fingers around his, and led him to my bedroom.

  I had waited for this moment for years, and every single doubt I had fluttered from my mind as we undressed each other and lay down in the middle of my bed. Resting half his body across me, he delicately placed his lips on mine, and I felt a surge of rightness rush through my body. Carding my fingers through his hair, I brought him to me, opening my mouth, kissing him deeply. Tasting him had me remembering the feel of his mouth on mine, the day I unwittingly discovered my place in the world.

  This was right, and nothing anyone could tell me would ever make it wrong.

  Shifting, he ground his hips into me, letting me feel how hard he was for me.

  “Andrew,” he growled. “I want you so bad. I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

  “Yes. I want you inside me. So bad.” I was fearful but ready. “But be gentle. Go nice and slow, okay?”

  “Yes, love. Anything you want.”

  Shep searched inside my bedside table and extracted a bottle of lube and a condom. “Ever the optimist,” I said with a smile that earned me a grin. Setting the items on the bed, he ignored them and paid attention to my body instead.

  Resting between my legs, he ran his hands from my knees toward my groin. He touched the scars on my hip and thigh, a clear question on his brow.

  “Battle wounds. I’ll tell you all about it later. Just be careful on that side.”

  “Of course.”

  I twitched at the expectation of his touch as he trailed his fingers back to my knees, caressing the sensitive skin behind. Kneeling down, he wrapped his lips around my cock, fully encasing it in his mouth. He snaked his hands up my sides and chest to tease and pinch my nipples. I groaned, enjoying the skill he’d gained over the years.

  A cool, wet finger pressed into my puckered flesh. I bucked at the sensation, not expecting it so soon.

  “Shhh. I’ll go slow,” he promised.

  While I focused on relaxing, he took his time to make sure I would accommodate him, rushing nothing, moving in fluid motions, unhurried as he’d been so many years ago during our first time together. He was breaking me apart. I didn’t want this to be over yet.

  I rolled, shoving a pillow under my broken side to support my weight. “It’ll be easier for me like this.”

  “Okay. You know best.”

  I rolled back to face him, ready to reveal it all. “I really don’t. I’ve never done this before.”

  He sat back, mouth dropped open in shock. “Never? At all?”

  I leaned up on an elbow and tried to read him. He was a puzzle to me right then. Was he ready to bail? Shocked? Scared?

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  I licked my lips and nodded, leaning even closer to him, unwilling to not at least feel the heat rolling off his skin. “I’ve been waiting for you for years. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted this with.”

  “Oh, Andrew.” He crushed his mouth to mine and kissed me like his life depended on it. “You don’t know how turned on that makes me.”

  I laughed and gestured to where he was poking me in the belly. “I think I do.”

  He chuckled and helped me get situated again, making sure the pillow was where I needed it. And then he took his time sliding fingers in and out of me until there was hardly any resistance. Kissing my neck helped me relax the rest of the way.

  “Are you ready?”

  I nodded and soon felt the head of his cock resting against me. He reached around and stroked up and down my length. The pleasure distracted me from the pressure as he slowly pushed in. He stopped to give me time to adjust, and I turned to look into his eyes, seeing the love he had for me. I arched my back, urging him to move.

  He gave me a crooked grin and thrust his hips, slow and shallow at first, then shifting over to something deeper, a driving force that pushed the last vestiges of pain away. Pleasure replaced it and I gasped, arching into this new sensation.

  “Harder, Shep,” I cried into the mattress, which muffled my voice. “Please.”

  He rested against my back and rocked with all his weight on my good side, trapping my cock against the bed and creating friction that brought me so very close to the edge. I gripped anything that was within reach: sheets, pillows, a rung on the headboard. He thrust harder and faster. This was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

  “Oh my god, Shep. Don’t ever stop.”

  He chuckled above me, enjoying the spectacle of me letting go completely. Grabbing his ass, I pulled him deeper into me, feeling my climax building. Unbridled groans escaped as I gave into my body’s desires. Every muscle tensed as I came, delight shooting from my center out to each extremity, even curling my toes. Shep tensed above me, body arcing as he spent.

  He collapsed on top of me, his sweat dampening my skin. “Oh shit. I’m probably hurting you.” He started to pull away, but I stopped him with a word.

  “Stay.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “No, I mean⁠—⁠” Stay forever. “⁠—⁠be mine.”

  “I’ve always been yours, Andrew. Always. I’ve been yours since you stole my heart in a cornfield.”

  I rolled. I had to see him, look right into his eyes to admit this truth. “I want you in my life,” I dared say.

  “You’ve got me.”

  *

  In the morning, I woke much later than normal. I hadn’t slept past nine for years and it was nearly eleven.

  I walked out to find Shep sitting in the living room surrounded by my journals.

  Blood rushed to my face and I started to overheat.

  He was mesmerized, not even aware I’d walked in the room. When I cleared my throat, he startled and looked up at me with utter guilt on his face.

  “Morning?”

  He stammered, “I’m sorry, Andrew. I never should’ve, but I couldn’t sleep. I came out here to look for something to help me fall back asleep and I saw all these books lined up. I didn’t realize what they were until I was well into the third one and read my name.”

  I bit my lip, fearful of what he was going to say, but rather than deny the truth, I decided to admit it. “Welcome to my nightmares.”

  “What?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “Didn’t you read about the nightmares?”

  “No. I read about hot sexual fantasies that made me so hard I ended up jerking off out here.” He pointed to wadded up tissues in the trash.

  So he’d started with those journals. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Nothing to apologize for.”

  “How long have you been reading?”

  He picked up his cell phone and clicked it to life, eyes widening as he registered the time. “Hours. I got through about a quarter of these. So, how long have you been a writer?”

  “I’m not a writer.”

  “Uh … my dick and my brain care to argue that point.”

  My gut churned as I sat beside him and pulled the closest journal toward me. I had to see how bad this was going to be, so I scanned the page to see what he’d been reading.

  “So, you just do this for fun?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “No, more to process shit, which was why I mentioned the nightmares. Memories from patrols, stand-offs, firefights. Stuff I managed to somehow live through. Full disclosure and all.”

  “Full disclosure.” He scraped his teeth against his bottom lip, as if considering his next words carefully. “I’ve read a lot of published books that aren’t this good. You’re a writer.”

  “I’m not. I’m a medically retired soldier who happens to work part-time in a government office. I write when I wake up in the mornings to work through shit in my head.”

  “I think you’re a writer.” He winked at me, so I let him have it without any more argument.

  “Tell you what, read through the rest, get to the nightmares, then tell me what you think. Writer or disturbed individual?”

  He pressed his lips together into a tight line. “Sometimes the two are
n’t far apart.”

  I nodded. “Well, either way, once you’ve read everything, you’ll know what you’re really getting into if you move to Austin and stick with me.”

  “I guess I will.”

  I couldn’t even think of the possibility of losing him right then, so I diverted with, “Do you need a ride anywhere? I have to head to work for a few hours, but I can drop you off on the way, if you need me to.”

  He leaned back on the couch, pulling a few journals closer. “Nope. I’m fine right here. I have plenty of reading material and don’t have to be anywhere today.”

  I wanted to throw up, but I said, “Suit yourself.”

  *

  I barely got my front door closed behind me before my chest tightened. I staggered toward the parking lot, trying to calm myself so I could breathe freely, but by the time I made it to my car, I was shaking so badly I fumbled my keys. I stooped to pick them up but just stayed there, head down, staring at the ground, focusing on the pebbles embedded in asphalt.

  Why hadn’t I hidden my journals? Why had I allowed all those private thoughts to just sit on my bookcase? They were bound to be a draw. Next to the lacquered box filled with Shep’s letters, they were the only other things worth looking at.

  And now he knew. Or he would shortly. He’d read about moments like this when the world around me crumbled, blending and twisting my sense of reality into this perverted lie I couldn’t shake.

  I started counting backward from ninety-nine, and by the time I got to fifty, I was able to breathe deeply again, filling my lungs. I drove to work and managed to get to my desk before dread gripped me.

  He’d be gone by the time I got home. I was positive of that.

  He’d maybe leave a letter telling me he couldn’t deal with my broken head.

  Maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all and just ghost.

  As I tried to lose myself in the monotony of work, I chided myself for calling him in the first place, for allowing hope to fill me with silly dreams of happily ever afters. Those were always destined to fail.

  The chapter in my life with him was long over. It had been over since the day I’d first said goodbye to him.

  So as I drove home, I rebuilt the wall around my heart. Last night I’d been laid bare. Now I needed armor to face his guaranteed absence.

  9

  I was stunned to see Shep at my tiny kitchen table when I arrived home. My journals sat in two neat stacks beside him, and he had a serious look on his face. “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Okay …” I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water, hands shaky. I was leery about what he was going to say, what I’d say in reply. I felt caught out, hanging on a ledge.

  He had a notebook filled with scribbled notes. Not the careful cursive he always wrote my name in, but the slanted, pointy script he used the rest of the time.

  “I read everything.”

  “And … ?” I eased down in the chair across from him, wary. I gripped my glass to keep from trembling.

  “Have you ever considered sharing this stuff with other people? I know a lot of it is really personal, but there’s a hell of a lot of value here.”

  “What?” This wasn’t at all where I thought he’d begin.

  “Some of the scenes between soldiers, especially the ones you wrote set in World War I and II, they were heart-wrenching.”

  “What about the nightmares?”

  He scowled, as I expected. “Some of it was really hard to read. Hellish to live, I’m sure. The way I see it, you needed to get that stuff down to process it. But you seemed to do that rather quickly, getting back to the men falling in love in the midst of war. Most of the stories you wrote were swoon-worthy.”

  “Yeah, I know. They’re cheesy.”

  “They’re not cheesy. They’re romantic, and romance readers are voracious, some gobbling up ten books a week. We crave this stuff⁠—⁠”

  “We?”

  “⁠—⁠especially with gay characters and forbidden love. You probably have a good start on seven novels here. A few novellas. Maybe a short story or two. Some could be expanded to make them a little longer.”

  It seemed he’d barely given the nightmares a second thought. They hadn’t scared him away. Instead, he’d focused on the battlefield stories.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded, so I did. “Now just listen.”

  His voice was melodic as he spoke, lilting and hushed.

  We had to be quiet with our Platoon Leader just on the other side of the trench. Any noises we made would be heard. George looked at me with desire, lips parting on a shaky breath, and he moved in close, claiming my mouth. He was anxious, fingers scrabbling over olive-drab wool, pushing fastenings away so he could wrap his rough fingers around me.

  I bit my lip, nearly breaking the skin and drawing blood so I wouldn’t gasp at the glorious sensation. He stared into my eyes as he pleasured me and whispered, “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we come out of this alive. Together. I promise you that.”

  Shep shut the journal, the sound familiar to me. I looked at him and he gave me a wistful smile.

  “When I first read that, it was like I was there living it,” he whispered.

  Until he made me close my eyes and read that short scene to me, I hadn’t seen the value in what I’d written. I’d not read through the words once I’d gotten them down on the page, but the way my thoughts had rolled off his tongue left me half-hard.

  “Is it weird that I’m turned on by my own words?” I asked, laughing as I gestured to my groin.

  He stood to reveal his own bulge.

  “Not weird at all. They’re hot. They’re good. And you are a writer, whether you realize it or not. I’ll help you figure out how to get these published, if you want. I have a friend who’s a literary agent, and I’m sure if she read these, she’d be shopping them to everyone she knew.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes!”

  “It’s not quite my dream of working as a strength and conditioning coach for the Cowboys or the Mavericks, but it’s the one thing I truly love.”

  “You only love one thing?”

  I pulled him to me, relief pouring through me as he smiled, and encouraged him to sit on my lap. He was careful to only put weight on my uninjured side, and I gave him a grateful smile. I slipped my hand under his shirt and skimmed a palm up his warm back. “I might love something else.”

  “Yeah?”

  “A certain blue-eyed boy with auburn hair that I met in the middle of a historical battlefield.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything more, just waited for more of my story.

  “We wrote letters back and forth for years. He used to spritz them with his cologne that took me back to that day we first met. He changed my life and he said I changed his. I just didn’t think it could work for us.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your wanderlust. You’re always being beckoned to a new place.”

  “So come travel the world with me. I’ll show you my favorite places. You can discover some of your own. Write love stories as I work to acquire art treasures for museums.”

  I smiled at his fairytale world and told him my other reason. “And now I fear my mind is too shattered. Waking up in strange places … It’s not good when I’m having a nightmare.”

  “Then let’s stay here most of the time, take smaller trips, ease you into travel until your subconscious realizes you’re safe again. And when you get a bug to research a new battlefield for a new couple you want to write about, we’ll go and explore the world together.”

  “And you’d be okay sticking around here.”

  “If you’re by my side.” He gave me an eye-crinkling smile I couldn’t resist. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you ever again.”

  “Me either.”

  “Besides, I have grad school to worry about for a few years.”

  “I’ll do anything to be with you. I’ll even give writing a shot.”

&
nbsp; 10

  I knew where I was. Was this déjà vu? I watched the action from the other side, like an out of body experience … but not. I was dreaming. I told myself to wake up, but I couldn’t.

  I was fifty paces ahead of where I expected to be, and it wasn’t Fritz approaching the soldier in distress this time.

  It was Shep.

  The sun glared in my face now and I knew not to look when someone in the Humvee called my name.

  “Step away, Shep.” Despite my terror, my voice somehow sounded controlled. “Now. Please.”

  I watched the imposter Afghan soldier.

  Shep didn’t move, so I walked to him, keeping a close eye on the kid playing dress up.

  I smiled at him despite knowing he was strapped with an IED he could discharge at any second. With my limited grasp of the language, I asked him what his favorite candy was.

  He looked at me with wild, dark eyes, eyebrows quirking as though he was confused. I repeated my words, taking better care with my pronunciation. I worked my way around to his other side so the sun was no longer in my face. It was where his trigger device was located.

  How could I know that? Was I half-awake?

  “Candy?” he asked.

  I nodded and looked away from him long enough to make sure Shep was okay.

  Shep was smiling, clueless to the danger. He’d only ever played on battlefields, and it squeezed my heart to see his innocence displayed so openly.

  “Reese’s,” I told the kid as I carefully put my palm to my chest.

  “M and M.” He pronounced it as three words rather than the way it rolled off my own tongue.

  “Mmm. Good,” I told the kid. “Get back to the Hummer,” I said to Shep before smiling at the kid again. Shep backed away and I finally relaxed. He was safe.

  “Red M and M,” the kid added.

  I smiled and said, “Yeah?”

  He glanced behind himself and I zeroed in on his hand as it came close to his body. He looked back at me and I saw the fear in his eyes.

  “Your mother would miss you,” I hoped I said in his own tongue. I must’ve gotten it right because he bit his lip and I saw tears well in his eyes.

  His fingers twitched.

  “Wake up, Andrew. Wake up!” Shep shook my shoulder and I finally registered why he sounded so strange. He was scared, something I’d never witnessed in him before.