[Conduct Unbecoming 01.0] Conduct Unbecoming

by LA Witt

  Our foreheads touched.

  “So you want to stay?” I asked.

  “What do you think?” And he kissed me again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Eric

  I wasn’t in the mood. Not even close. But after a day of alternately worrying myself sick and wallowing in misery, I wasn’t about to turn down something that felt good. And this felt good. Really good. Shane’s kiss unwound tension and built its own. I wanted him, I needed him, and he wasn’t holding back any more than I was.

  And when I pulled back and let myself look him up and down, seeing him in his uniform for the first time since I’d known him, I couldn’t help being turned on. God, he looked amazing.

  Tom Cruise in Top Gun didn’t wear that uniform nearly as well as Shane. Not that I cared for Tom Cruise all that much anyway, but even he looked good in that uniform. Hell, most men did. And Shane? Shane had a body made for officer whites. His narrow waist was spectacular in snug white, and the gold-striped black shoulder boards made his shoulders look just a little broader. It was just as well I already knew his rank, because I was so distracted by the way his uniform fit him, I barely noticed all the gleaming insignias and colorful chest candy.

  I rested my hands on his waist. “You’re taking a chance with this uniform. Just so you know.”

  “Am I?”

  “Mm-hmm. Might get dirty, being thrown on the floor and all. Or, you know”—I grabbed his belt loops and pulled him toward me—“ripped.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want it getting ripped.” He kissed me and, as he did, pried my fingers off his belt loops. Then he put my hands behind my back and held them there. “I’ll just have to make sure your hands aren’t anywhere they can tear my uniform.”

  He kissed me again, harder this time. With my hands restrained, I couldn’t put them on him like I wanted to, but I was acutely aware of everywhere else we touched. His insignias pressing into my chest through my shirt. His cock against my own erection. Every release of breath whispering across my skin and every inhalation taking the air right out of my lungs.

  As it always was, Shane’s kiss was undeniably him, from the way the tip of his tongue slid under mine to his soft groan thrumming against my lips.

  When I broke the kiss, we looked at each other, both panting. Then I let my gaze slide downward, taking in the way his white shirt sat just right on his broad chest and shoulders.

  “God, you are so fucking hot in that uniform,” I said.

  “Hmm, you’re right. I am a little hot in it.” He kissed me and barely broke away enough to add, “Maybe I should take it off.”

  “Take it off?” I freed my hand and slid it over the front of his pants. Tilting his head back, Shane closed his eyes and gasped, and I leaned down to kiss his neck as I whispered, “What’s your hurry?”

  “I thought you were in a hurry.”

  “I was.” I raised my head and met his eyes. “But now I want to take my time.”

  “When have we ever taken our time?”

  “It’s worth a try.” I stroked him through his clothes. “Don’t you think?”

  Shane bit his lip and groaned.

  I grinned. “I thought you’d be agreeable.”

  He licked his lips. “You know, this is probably the very definition of conduct unbecoming a gentleman.”

  I laughed and kissed beneath his jaw. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, isn’t it?”

  “Very good thing. You wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if you were.”

  “Then maybe we should take our ungentlemanly conduct in the other room?”

  Moving in to kiss me again, he growled, “I fucking love the way you think.”

  We left a trail of sandals and dress shoes from his living room to his bedroom door. Fully dressed, shirts half-unbuttoned, we tumbled into bed together. Shane pinned me on my back and kissed me in that desperate, hungry way that always drove me insane.

  At one point, we abandoned trying to get clothes off. We’d opened most of the buttons, but now we just ran our hands all over each other. Over clothes, under them, through hair, down backs, it didn’t matter.

  In spite of my desperation, I found enough presence of mind to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, and we both managed to push our clothes far enough over our hips to get them somewhat out of the way. Then he pressed his cock against mine, and the heat, the friction, the sheer closeness of him, drove a moan from my lips. I wanted to get undressed and find a condom, but now I couldn’t remember how to do anything except press against him and let the warmth of his body intoxicate me.

  The insignias on his disheveled shirt rattled every time he moved. It was all I could do not to grab—and potentially destroy—that shirt.

  Destroyed or not, it needed to get the fuck out of the way, so I grabbed the lapels and shoved his shirt over his shoulders. He shook his hand free from the sleeve, then threw his shirt to the floor with a thud and a rattle. We both dragged his T-shirt over his head, and I tossed it aside. When my hands met his bare skin, we both sucked in hisses of breath before sinking into another feverish, demanding kiss.

  Shane pulled back enough to roll onto his back, and I went with him. Now that I was on top, we both struggled to get my shirt off, but between kissing and grabbing on to each other, we didn’t make much progress.

  “Fuck,” he whispered between kisses. “Jesus, we need to get…to get all these damned clothes…”

  “Good idea.” I kissed him quickly, then made myself sit up and shrug off my shirt. We separated, tore off the last of our clothes, and when we came together again in a breathless kiss, there was nothing but skin against skin.

  I bent to kiss his neck, and he tilted his head both to give me access and so he could return the favor. His skin was warm and salty, and his lips and stubble brushed the side of my neck at the same time. When we sank down to the bed, landing softly on Shane’s back, his cock brushed mine so deliciously, I released a shuddering, curse-laden breath against his ear. Shane slid his hand down my back, stopping just above my ass and pressing down with his palm at the same time he raised his hips.

  “Oh…God…” I groaned, nearly sinking my teeth into his neck.

  “Like that?”

  “Yes,” I murmured just below his ear. “But I want to fuck you,”

  Shane nipped my shoulder. “I’ve been dying for you to fuck me for the last few nights.”

  I raised my head. “Well, then—” I kissed him. Hard, violent, eager.

  He raised his hips again, letting his cock brush past mine. When he did it again, I moved to complement the motion, and we fell into a slow, smooth rhythm. We picked up speed, moving faster and with more urgency, more desperation. Every kiss was more intense than the last as our bodies moved together with more fervor. The need for release escalated with every brush of hot skin or cool breath.

  I pushed myself up so I could see him, and the second our eyes locked, a shiver ran from the back of my neck all the way down to my toes.

  Sex wasn’t what I needed tonight. It was Shane. Just Shane. Against me, inside me, kissing me, fucking me; I didn’t care as long as he was here with me, and that realization just made me want him that much more. God damn, I wanted to be inside him, deep inside him, forcing myself as deep as he would take me while he begged for more, and the very thought brought me closer to losing control. I couldn’t bring myself to stop, not even to get a condom and fuck him like I so desperately needed to. I couldn’t stop. Not yet. Just a little more of this. A little longer. A little—

  Shane broke the kiss with a gasp, and his entire body seized beneath mine, and I couldn’t take it another second. Closing my eyes, I buried my face against his neck and came with him.

  I collapsed against him. He stroked my hair and the back of my neck with a shaking hand, and I kissed his damp skin. The room spun around us. My heart pounded in my ears. Every orgasm I ever had in his presence was powerful and breath
taking, but never failed to surprise me.

  Long after the dust had settled, we didn’t move or speak. I rested my head on Shane’s chest. His arm was draped around my shoulders, and I probably could have drifted off to sleep if not for the inexplicable tightness in my stomach.

  “Not in the mood” wasn’t usually in my vocabulary, but tonight? Sex had been the last thing on my mind. I just didn’t have the energy to even think about it.

  When he’d kissed me, though, everything had changed. I didn’t care if I had the energy. One kiss, and I went from not feeling like sex to needing Shane’s touch so bad it hurt.

  And now? Now I just wasn’t sure what to make of anything.

  This was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I’d had amazing sex before Shane, but something about this was different. Not just the sex. This. Even my most serious relationships weren’t in the same ballpark, and I wasn’t sure why.

  Sara and I had been a couple of horny teenagers stumbling through a clumsy attempt at a relationship before a positive pregnancy test and a couple of rings turned us into spouses. It took much too long, but we eventually figured out the lack of passion and the uncomfortable awkwardness had nothing to do with inexperience or anything like that. After my marriage ended, my relationships with men were more intense, both emotionally and sexually. I’d been infatuated with Lee. I’d had butterflies over Jon. I’d spent many nights lying awake at night thinking about Sven.

  But this? This was new.

  Yeah, my body had decided to get on board after he’d kissed me, and I’d been as horny as I ever was with him, but that deep, palpable need for him wasn’t what I was used to. That I could still want him and need him like that, even when I was stressed and distracted, that was unusual.

  I’d needed him like he was the only thing right in my life tonight.

  “What is the gay equivalent of pussy-whipped, anyway?”

  No, it wasn’t that. So what if I’d found some stress relief with him? So what if being away from Shane was painful, and even being with him was painful?

  Well, maybe painful wasn’t the right word. Being with him was intense, almost to the point of discomfort, but that discomfort stemmed from a need to get even closer to him. I could never get close enough to him, even when we were tangled up together, and yet just being in the same room sometimes seemed too close.

  “You are so head over heels for this guy…”

  It was like when we were in the same room, I was constantly on the verge of either bursting into flames or falling to pieces.

  “But you’re not in love with him.”

  No, I wasn’t.

  I gulped. Was I?

  Shane’s voice broke the silence. “Something wrong?”

  “Hmm?” I looked up at him. God, you’re beautiful. “What? No, not at all. Why?”

  He trailed his fingers along the shaved side of my head. “You seem…tense.”

  “Just thinking, I guess.” I hoped he didn’t notice me cringing. Please don’t ask what I’m thinking about. Please don’t ask.

  Evidently satisfied I wasn’t going to elaborate, Shane didn’t push the issue.

  I draped my arm over his chest, and I was sure he had to hear my heart pounding just then. The chessboard had been bumped again, but the pieces weren’t necessarily out of place. The board had shifted. The pieces had moved. The game had changed.

  Shane put his hand over mine on his chest, and I closed my eyes as my heart shifted into overdrive.

  So this was what falling for someone felt like.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Shane

  At my desk one Friday afternoon, I tapped a pen on the side of my keyboard and tried to focus. There was no rational reason why I should have been more worried today than any other day that someone would figure out I was seeing an enlisted man. We’d been discreet from the start. I hadn’t said a word to anyone but Mays, and I had no doubt I could trust him.

  It wasn’t just today, though. Lately, I’d just felt…conspicuous. Like someone would take one look at me and see every one of my sins written in big red letters.

  Since the day Marie flew back to the States a couple—maybe three?—weeks ago, Eric and I had been inseparable. More so than usual, anyway. More insatiable than usual too, for that matter. I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed, but I was either counting down the minutes until we were together or trying to bargain with the clock to slow down and give us just a few more minutes before we separated. These days, I wondered how I functioned at all, what with all the sleep I wasn’t getting.

  I glanced at my watch. Work was nearly over. I hadn’t planned on joining everyone at the O’Club tonight, but now I caught myself reconsidering. Eric had to work for a few more hours, so maybe I could kill a little time. And a nice cold beer or two did sound pretty good.

  I decided I’d go with my coworkers after all.

  When I walked into the Officers’ Club with Mays and Gonzales, I immediately regretted coming here.

  “Hey, man.” Morris clapped my shoulder, and the smell of alcohol made me cringe as much as his presence did. “Thought you weren’t coming out tonight?”

  Great. He’d been drinking alone, and he’d started early. That was never a good sign. I would have loved to leave at this point and just go have a beer at home before Eric came over, but knowing Morris was already here and already a mess, there wasn’t much I could do. If I left, we’d all leave, and if he had another alcohol-related incident after we’d taken off, we could be reprimanded for knowingly leaving him on his own in that condition. And the only thing worse than hanging out with him while he was like this was trying to convince him he needed to stop or that he couldn’t drive.

  I sent up a silent prayer for the serenity not to kill Morris, then followed the others into the lounge, where we found seats beside the bar. There weren’t many barstools left, so Gonzales and Morris sat while Mays and I leaned against the bar. After a day behind a desk, I didn’t mind standing.

  When my beer arrived, I took a long drink. Ah, Orion. I couldn’t help grinning to myself. I’d been drinking this stuff since I first came to Japan several years ago, but now it always reminded me of the night I met Eric. The taste that was in my mouth the first time I’d laid eyes on him.

  Even if I did have someone here to sour the taste on my tongue with his obnoxious, alcohol-fueled attitude.

  “I was right about that new fucking ensign,” Morris slurred. “Queerer than a goddamned three-dollar bill.”

  “Right,” Mays grumbled. “So I suppose that wife and kid back in the States are just a cover story?”

  “Must be.” Morris made an exaggerated, flippant gesture, almost smacking Gonzales in the process. “The way that fag was strutting around and acting like a fairy at the Dragon Club the other night—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “That doesn’t mean he’s gay. If you caught him with another guy’s dick in his mouth, then you might be on to something.”

  Gonzales snickered over the rim of her beer and looked at Morris. “Maybe you should offer your own.”

  “Fuck you,” Morris growled. “I’m not offering my dick to any dude.”

  “Eh,” she said with a shrug. “Even if you did, the data would be inconclusive. If Lange turned him down, he might still be gay. He’d just have, you know, standards.”

  “Whatever, bitch.”

  Mays scowled. I half expected him to flip his lid, but he just rubbed the bridge of his nose and grumbled something I didn’t catch.

  “So what if Lange is gay, anyway?” Gonzales said. “It’s allowed now, you know.”

  “I’m not joking.” Mays shot each of them a warning look that was even icier than usual, thanks to his lack of sleep. “Get started on DADT, any of you”—he threw the same look at me—“and I swear to God…”

  Gonzales opened her mouth to say something, but Mays glared at her, and she went for her drink instead.

  “I am so fucking serious right now
,” Mays muttered. “I am sleep-deprived, my patience is shot, and I’m this close to strangling the first person who kills my goddamned buzz.”

  I was right there with him. Long day. Long week. Exhaustion from one long, long night. Those nights with Eric were worth it and then some, but they did admittedly shorten my fuse during the day. I was so not in the mood for Morris’s crap.

  And he wasn’t in the mood to quit either.

  He put his drink down and sneered at both of us. “Man, as much as you two defend fucking gays, how do we know you’re not?”

  “Jesus. Really?” Mays put his hands up and stepped back from the bar. “I’m going to the damned head.” He stormed off, probably just needing a minute to cool himself off before he went to blows. Another minute or two in Morris’s presence, I’d probably need to do the same.

  Morris laughed. “I’ll bet he is. Motherfucking fag.”

  Anger burned in my chest, and I fought to keep my temper in check. “This is getting old, Morris. Can we just have a couple of drinks without you starting in on this shit?” I gestured in the direction Mays had gone. “He’s here for a break from his kid. We’re all trying to wind down from work. Is this really necessary every damned time?”

  “Says the man who seems thrilled as fuck that they’re letting gays in—”

  “God, Morris.” Gonzales glared at him. “All joking aside, give it a rest, all right?”

  “Fucking queers need to give it a rest,” he muttered. “You all make it sound like it’s no big deal, but guys have to share showers and berthings with other guys.”

  I laughed. “What does that have to do with you? Even if you go back to a ship, you’d have a damned stateroom.”

  “Don’t matter,” he slurred. “There’s boys in the fleet that don’t want to take showers with them.”

  “They’ll get over it,” Gonzales muttered into her glass.

  “Easy for you to say.” He slammed his glass down. “You ever tried to take a shower when—”

  “You know,” I said through gritted teeth, “with as hung up as you are about gays, I can’t help wondering if there’s something we should know about you.”