On the Sand [A Jarheads Novel]

by Sean Michael

  "It is. They don't care."

  "Bastards.” Rock was quiet for a bit, but he wasn't relaxed yet, wasn't finished. “You fighting it?"

  "As much as I can, yeah. I'm trying to figure out if it'll cost less to get a lawyer to help. It's way over my head.” He'd talked to Helen at the clinic; she'd suggested a couple names and offered her help.

  "How much?"

  "Huh?"

  "How much do you owe?"

  "Almost ninety thousand dollars."

  "Jesus fucking Christ!” Rock stopped and stared at him. “Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

  "Because it'd stress you out and I've done that enough.” Because if he didn't know what the fuck to do about it, how could Rock?

  That earned him a snort. “You don't have to handle that kind of shit alone, Rig. Just like you didn't have to fucking keep being sick to yourself."

  "I didn't know how to fucking tell you, Jim. You don't think I wanted to? Shit, I was fucking losing my mind and...” And shit. The guys were busy and working and he just couldn't.

  "You gotta start telling me things, Rig. Especially things that are making you lose your fucking mind."

  "I don't ... Shit, Blue. I don't want to be your problem. I want to be the fucking good in your life.” He'd used up the worry years ago, used it up by damn near getting beat to death. Rock didn't need this shit.

  "Jesus fuck, do you think I won't want you if you've got problems? What the fuck would that make me?"

  "You'd always want me.” He never doubted that. Never. “I'm yours. I just want to be your good, Jim."

  They'd stopped walking, Rock facing him now. “Christ, Rig. You don't think you're my good? You and the kid? Everything else is just details, yeah?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, just details.” He twined their fingers together, squeezed hard. “I wanted you there in San Diego. It was all I could think."

  "Coulda had me, Rig. For every fucking second of it. I would have been there if you'd just asked.” Rock shook his head. “Hell, I would have been there if I'd known, invited or not."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for you, and I was too fucking scared to make good sense.” There it was.

  Reaching out, Rock touched his cheek. “Hey. I'm good at scaring away monsters. Don't be forgetting that."

  He leaned, nodded. “You are. You make things better."

  "Fucking remember that, Rig. You got anything else you been keeping to yourself?"

  "I'm tired of being in the house. I'm tired of being sick, of being tired. I want my coffee back. I want a cigarette."

  "All right, why don't you come to the gym with us? And you can have the occasional coffee once you've gained another twenty pounds and you can just forget about the fucking cigarettes—sick or not, I will kick your ass from here to Texas and back if I find you smoking."

  "Twenty pounds?” He wrapped his hand around Rock's arm, pushed close. It was fucking cold. “Slave driver."

  Rock chuckled and wrapped both arms around him, pulling him up against that hot body. “Yeah, making you eat. I'm a fucking monster."

  "I thought that was a fucking machine..."

  "You fucking know it!” Grabbing his ass, Rock squeezed, rubbing them together.

  Rig laughed, took himself a hard, deep kiss. His fucking machine. Rock's strong arms tightened around him, like he was going anywhere, and their mouths fused together. He pushed up into the kiss, moaning low. Hips rubbing against him, Rock sucked on his tongue. One hand pushed into the back of his jeans, Rock's palm cool, but warming rapidly against his skin.

  Oh.

  Oh, now.

  Yeah.

  Rig groaned, pressed closer and started rubbing. Rock worked his other hand between them, popping open his button and shoving that hand down into his pants, giving him skin to rub against.

  "Rock...” He met Rock's eyes, that hand feeling so hot compared to the cold wind blowing in.

  "I won't let you fall.” The words were growled softly against his lips.

  "No.” No, not his Rocketman. It wasn't fucking going to happen.

  The hand on his ass squeezed and pushed, and then the hand on his cock did the same, Rock working him back and forth as they stood there in the middle of all that sand. Rig moaned, rocking nice and steady, just as caught up now as he'd ever been. Those blue eyes held his, Rock's low moans joining his as Rock's tongue pushed into his mouth. Back and forth, Rock pushed him, sent him flying. Oh, shit. He was fixin’ to come, right here, just like that.

  Lord, he'd never make it back to the house all boneless.

  "Give it to me,” growled Rock. “Fucking give it to me."

  "Rock!” He shot, his knees buckling with the rush of heat, of pleasure. He didn't fall, Rock holding him up, keeping him pressed tight against that hard, muscled body.

  "Just like fucking that."

  "Uh ... Uh-huh.” Fuck, the world was spinning.

  Rock kept him steady with that hand on his ass, while pulling the other hand up, covered in his own come and offered over to him.

  "Fuck...” He moaned, licking and sucking Rock's hand clean. “Not as good as you."

  "You needing a taste of the Rocketman?"

  "Fuck, yes.” Rig eased down to his knees, still shaking a little from his orgasm.

  Rock opened his leather jacket, wrapping it around his head, covering him from sight and protecting him from the cold wind. Rig took a deep breath, the scents of leather and male and need addictive as hell. He slid his lips up the shaft, lips open and hungry as they reached the tip. The noises Rock made were muffled by the jacket, but he could hear them, could feel Rock's pleasure in the way the man's thigh muscles tightened, hips pushed. He closed his eyes, sucking hard, head bobbing as he pulled the salt into him. Drop after drop slipped on his tongue and went down his throat, Rock's hips pushing harder, that thick prick swelling further.

  His Blue. Fuck, yeah. He hummed and let himself enjoy it, let himself need. Rock's hand landed on the back of his head, guiding him. As if he didn't know what his Blue wanted. He opened his throat, let Rock in to the root, throat working the tip.

  "Fuck!” He had no problem hearing Rock's shout.

  Two thrusts later and spunk poured down his throat, Rock's fingers digging into his scalp. He cleaned Rock's cock, licking and sucking until he had every drop. He'd barely done when Rock pulled him up, taking a kiss, one hand putting away that heavy prick.

  "Come on, home."

  He nodded, leaning hard. “Yeah. Yeah, Rock. It's getting chilly and I think we should make chili."

  That had Rock chuckling, arm going around him again, pulling him close as they headed into the wind to go home. “Is chili on the good for you list?"

  "It's meat, veggies. I'll drink a shake first, like a good boy.” He goosed Rock hard, enjoying the hell out of that laugh.

  They were almost home when Rock spoke again. “I think we should go to a lawyer. Just to find out what he thinks about this insurance situation."

  "Yeah?” He leaned harder, nodded. If Rock thought it was a good idea, it couldn't hurt.

  "Just to talk to someone who knows, yeah? You think anyone at your office would know someone who's battled the insurance companies before?"

  "Helen gave me some names, yeah. We just have to pick one."

  "Well then, you pick one and make the appointment. You just tell me when and we'll go see him. Or her, I guess. We'll take it from there."

  They climbed the stairs to the deck, Rock turning him to the ocean and wrapping warmly around him, the beginnings of a beautiful sunset lighting the sky.

  Chapter Fifty Three

  Dick made sure the tree was properly set up and then brought out the boxes of decorations, informing Mutt and Trouble in no uncertain terms that they were to stay away from the boxes on pain of death. Of course that meant they sent in Ms. Susie to investigate and he had to shoo all three of them out onto the deck. Silly mutts.

  He poked through the boxes again and tried to avoi
d checking his watch. Rock and Rig had gone to the lawyer to see if it was worth fighting the insurance company on the bills. They'd all decided it was simpler if just Rock and Rig went—Rock knew all his financial business and they'd tell him all about it when they got back.

  The dogs set up barking and he strode to the door just as Rock and Rig were climbing out of Rig's sports car. The dogs came in along with his lovers, and he pointed a finger at them. “You can stay—but only if you stay away from the boxes."

  Then he turned back and got kisses from his men. He was really good. He waited until the front door was closed behind them before asking. “So? What did the lawyer say?"

  Rig looked a little dazed. “Well, it'll take time and money, but he'll be able to help some. He thought he'd be able to get more than half taken off, maybe more, if we're lucky."

  "Well as long as his fees aren't worth that half, that's a good thing, right?"

  Rock nodded. “Yeah. Nothing's guaranteed of course—cagey bastard wouldn't commit to anything—but yeah. If things go well we should have brought the total owed down to less than fifty thousand."

  "Yeah.” Rig nodded, swallowed hard, looking a little green around the gills. “Yeah, it'll work out."

  "It will,” growled Rock. “And tomorrow we've got an appointment at the accountant. We'll all need to go to that so we can sign on stuff. The lawyer made it clear what bills were going to stand so we know what needs to get paid off."

  "I don't ... This isn't y'all's debt..."

  "Sure it is."

  Dick nodded in agreement with Rock's words.

  "I.” Rig looked just sick.

  Not like ‘oh, this is a bad idea’ sick, but like ‘I'm going to puke up a lung’ sick.

  "Rig?” Dick grabbed one of the boxes and upended it, then passed it over, just in case Rig did puke. “Are you okay?"

  "I...” Rig bolted, the door to the bathroom slamming shut.

  "Well, shit.” Rock growled and headed for the bathroom, and he was hot on the big guy's heels.

  He grabbed a washcloth to cool Rig's neck with and Rock rubbed those thin shoulders.

  "Sorry. Sorry, I just. Damn.” Rig's shirt was plastered to him, the man having cold shakes.

  Shit, he didn't want Rig to have to do this again. “Do you think we need to go to the hospital?"

  "I don't know,” growled Rock.

  "I don't ... I don't think so. No blood. No pain. Just nausea.” Rig looked over, at him, panting. “Call Helen, huh?"

  "Yeah, okay.” He touched Rig's head and went for the phone, dialing quickly.

  "Doc Rig?” He could hear the baby jabbering in the background. “You ready for Christmas yet, honey?"

  "It's not, Rig, it's Dick. He's sick. He's throwing up, he's got the cold shakes."

  "Okay. Okay, Dick. Relax. Is there blood—red or black?"

  "No, no blood. No pain. He says it's just the nausea.” He looked over at Rig, please let it just be good old-fashioned flu.

  "Oh.” He could hear Helen relax. “Ask him when he ate last."

  Oh, for ... “Rig? When did you last eat?"

  "Uh. Breakfast. I had breakfast.” Right. Two sips of milkshake and half an egg. The man had been all nerves.

  And it was nearly four. “Shit, that's it Helen. He hasn't eaten since this morning. Sorry to bother you."

  "No bother. It's better to be safe than sorry. He's not going to want to eat, but that's what he needs. His blood sugar is probably low as anything."

  "We'll get something down him. Thanks. Bye."

  He hung up and leaned against the bathroom wall with a huge sigh of relief.

  "You need to eat more than once a day."

  "I do.” Rig heaved again. “The meeting ran long."

  "Yeah. Yeah, okay. We need to make sure you always have snacks with you. Powerbars or something."

  Rock grunted. “You're saying he's sick because he didn't eat."

  "Yep."

  Rock growled.

  "Come on, let's get you food."

  "Uh-uh. I can't. I can't, y'all."

  "Yeah, Helen said you weren't going to want to, but it's what's going to make you feel better. So you have to."

  Rock wrapped an arm around Rig's waist and got him up, got him moving.

  "You think you could manage a shake, Rig?"

  "I want a shower.” Rig followed, though, let Rock help him.

  "Yeah, in a bit. Helen said your blood sugar was low. Come on.” He pulled out the milk and found the protein powder.

  Rig leaned down, head on his hands. “I don't want to ruin y'all's credit. I don't want to be sick any fucking more."

  "You're not going to ruin our credit,” growled Rock.

  "You'll feel better once you've got some protein in you.” Dick mixed up the shake and put a straw in it, sitting next to Rig as he passed over.

  Rig gagged, but brought the straw to his mouth, sipping slowly. It took a couple of sips, but Rig lost that green look.

  "Yeah, that's it. Keep going.” He was almost shaking he was so relieved.

  "I. Can I have an egg, Dick? I could eat an egg. Hell, Rock's probably starving."

  "I'm fine."

  Dick grinned. “An egg is good. I could make some sausages, too."

  Rig leaned into Rock, head on the broad shoulder. “Sorry, y'all."

  Rock patted Rig's head. “Just don't do it again. The kid was right—you need to carry protein bars with you."

  "I just didn't think. I ... I hate this shit. When the fuck does life back off and be easy?"

  Rock snorted. “Who promised you easy?"

  "Fuck off.” Rig looked like he was going to snarl, but started chuckling instead. “Asshole."

  "Yeah, but I'm your asshole.” Rock winked. “Tell you what. Instead of making us a big meal, why don't I take us out to the IHOP?"

  "You up to that, Rig? I don't mind making you an egg. Honest."

  "Oh, IHOP works. We could even think about catching a movie or playing a bit of pool. Let me change shirts."

  Rock's eyebrow rose. “It really was just a low-blood sugar thing, huh?"

  Rig shrugged. “It's called dumping. The surgeon said that I need to worry about pain and blood, losing weight."

  "Well let's not do it again.” Dick gave Rig's arm a squeeze. Truth was it had scared the shit out of him. He had a hunch it might take a while before that wasn't his first reaction.

  "'kay.” Rig nodded, sighed. “I just was all nervy today."

  "Little bites often, huh?” He leaned in and kissed the side of Rig's mouth. “You want that shower before we head off?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, Blue? You want too?"

  "Getting wet with the two of you? I'm there.” Rock grinned and stood, held out his hand to Rig. Rig took it, gave Rock a smile, the tension in the thin shoulders fading. Rock's other hand was held out to him and Dick took it, letting Rock lead him, lead them.

  Hell, it looked like the day was looking up.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Rock looked around at the crowds and growled a little.

  Christmas made people fucking nuts. And the closer they got to Christmas, the nutser they got. One of these years he'd get his fucking shopping done in November. This was not that year. He checked his watched. Quarter past three. They were supposed to be meeting back up at three and so far, he was the only one in front of the food court.

  He told himself it was just because the place was so busy, and Rig and Dick would be along any second now. Rig showed up first, looking fucking exhausted, but happy. He needed to get Rig into the gym. It would help.

  "Hey. You got everything you needed?” He asked. If Dick didn't show up soon, he was commandeering the bench a group of teenagers were hanging around on.

  "If I didn't, I'll have to get it later.” Rig grinned, winked.

  Dick came rushing up. “Sorry! I got caught in line behind this lady who was trying to return a shitload of stuff. She didn't have the right receipts, half the stuff had no tags. Who does
stuff like that?"

  "Who cares? Let's go get some coffee...” Rig looked at them both, eyes laughing.

  He shook his head, but smiled. “I want more than coffee. We deserve a treat after braving this shit."

  "You taking us out?” Dick asked. “We haven't been to the steakhouse since ... before Thanksgiving."

  "Oh. That sounds good.” Rig nodded, grinned. “I could just share with y'all, even."

  "You're assuming I'd be willing to share. I'm starving.” He gave Rig a look. “When was the last time you had something to eat?” Lunch had been several hours ago.

  "I had a smoothie with protein powder about one thirty. I could have another bite now."

  "That's okay, then. I'll get the big steak so you can share."

  "You can have some of mine, too.” Dick grabbed Rig's bags for him, and they weaved their way through the fucking crowds.

  "God, people are getting pushy.” Rig ducked a flying shopping bag, shook his head.

  Rock growled and put his arm around Rig's shoulders, tugging him close where he wouldn't get bumped. “Clear a path, Dick."

  The kid nodded and stepped up ahead of them. Nice. Getting a clear path and a view of that fine ass.

  "Man, he's really good at that.” Rig was admiring too.

  "It's all those muscles.” Rock grinned, licked his lips. He had him a fine pair of men.

  "It's the whole package."

  He chuckled; he couldn't disagree. They finally made it out the door and he grimaced. It was a fucking cold December. Not cold the way he used to know it, but they'd been here long enough he was getting soft. It made him keep his arm around Rig, looking to share body heat as they headed across the parking lot for Dick's car.

  "You think we might actually get snow this year?” Dick asked, eyes on the clouds.

  "That'd be something.” Rig shook his head. “No, I think it'll just be wet and miserable and require hours of couch snuggling."

  "Better make sure we've got movies stocked.” He could handle couch snuggling; it usually led to couch fucking. Of which there had not been enough lately. His prick tried to get interested and he ignored it—steak first, fucking after.

  "Oh, yeah. That works. We could get a bunch and fuck through them all.” Dick giggled and unlocked the car.