Chief's Mess

by L. A. Witt

  After Will and I had gone through that and some of the other latest updates within our command, we shot the shit for a while. Not unusual for us. We’d crossed paths a number of times throughout our careers, and the day he’d transferred to NAS Adams had been awesome. I’d been thrilled at the prospect of both working for my longtime friend and being rid of our old senior chief, who was transferring to—eh, I really didn’t care as long as it wasn’t here. That guy had been a bastard, focused solely on furthering his own career, even if it was at the expense of the time and sanity of everyone below him. Good riddance.

  Will was good people, though. He didn’t abuse his power or his Sailors.

  We’d been friends since the early days, but we’d bonded when we’d both been third class petty officers on a deployment to the Pacific. DADT had still been in effect, and I’d always remembered that riiight up until I had a few beers in me. One night, I’d been three sheets to the wind in a discreet gay bar on Okinawa, and I’d not-so-discreetly started stumbling out of it with my tongue down the throat of someone way above my paygrade. We’d been so drunk and horny, we’d gone staggering right for the taxi stand where dozens of our shipmates would see us.

  The second I’d gone for the door, Will had bolted after me, pried us apart, and hauled me into another bar where Sailors picked up local women.

  No one but him had seen me trying to leave with the ship’s executive officer. If he’d wanted to, Will could’ve reported us. We’d have been hemmed up for everything from violating DADT to fraternization, plus the XO would’ve gone down for conduct unbecoming a gentleman because I was enlisted, and adultery because he was married. Our careers would have been over.

  But Will hadn’t said a word to anyone. He’d stayed with me until I was sober enough to go back to the ship without slurring about how I’d almost blown the XO, and he’d covered for me when we were late getting back. It was almost two weeks before I’d realized that if Will had caught me in a gay bar, that meant he’d been in a gay bar. Between port calls—since that was when I was actually sober—I’d pulled him aside, and he’d confirmed that, yes, he was gay. And he’d all but begged me not to say anything.

  Our shared secret, not to mention him saving my career, had bonded us like brothers. We’d stayed in contact while the Navy had transferred us all over the place, and it was good to be back on the same base with him.

  I didn’t even mind that I was his subordinate. He’d always been every inch the perfect Sailor. Someone who probably could’ve been an officer and flown up through the ranks, but he’d always turned up his nose at the political games on that side of things. He liked to work. Get his hands dirty. Do something. So he’d stayed enlisted, and now he was easily one of the youngest senior chiefs I’d ever met.

  I was always acutely aware of the extra stripe on his shoulder, though. And since we’d passed our twelve-year marks, the differences between stellar Senior Chief Curtis and kind-of-keeping-his-shit-together Chief Jackson were even more glaring. At twelve years, a Sailor changed his stripes from red to gold . . . if he’d gone that whole time without going to Captain’s Mast. Will, of course, had never even had to go in front of a disciplinary review board. His stripes were gold. Mine were still—glaringly and embarrassingly—red.

  “Well.” He sat up after a while. “I should probably get back to work.”

  “Yeah, I guess I should too, or that asshole senior chief might come in and read me the riot act.”

  He flipped me off and started for the door, but paused. “Oh, we’ve got two new Sailors checking in next week. You’ve got room in your section for one, but with MA3 Strauss going on light duty, do you want me to move someone from another section, or give you both of the new guys?”

  I shrugged. “Either or. I mean, are they boots?” So help me, if they stuck me with another kid fresh out of boot camp . . .

  Will shook his head. “Both E5. One’s coming from a ship, the other from Sigonella. They’ve both got patrol experience and watch commander qualifications.”

  Nodding, I considered the question. The new guys would have to learn the routines here at NAS Adams, but they were rookies. They might have some bad habits that needed to be untrained—every base and ship seemed to instill a few of those—but they’d probably hit the ground running and be competent on their own in a couple of weeks. MA3 Strauss was on light duty, and would be on maternity leave soon, and MA2 Trusch would be away for a couple of weeks for coxswain’s school next month, so I needed all the competent bodies I could get.

  “Give me one of the new guys and somebody from another section,” I said. “I can give back the one from the other section after Trusch gets back.”

  Will grimaced. “You’re probably not getting Trusch back. The Harbor Patrol Unit will have their eye on him once he’s got his coxswain’s pin.”

  I gritted my teeth. “So what happened to ‘We’re just training people so they can fill in whenever Harbor needs them’?” Always fucking happened. I really wasn’t surprised so much as annoyed. The security officer had persuaded me to send one of my best E5s to school because, quote, “We’re short on bodies in the Harbor Unit, and we need people to be qualified in case we need someone to fill in” and “It’ll look great on his eval and be good for his career.”

  “You know how it goes,” Will said.

  “Yeah, I do.” I groaned. “And you wonder why I drink.”

  Will’s features tightened for a split second. Then he forced a laugh. “Yeah, fair enough. All right. I’ll leave you to get some work done for once.”

  “Uh-huh. Says the man who’s about to go hunt down another cup of coffee instead of—”

  “Hey. Watch it.”

  “Yes, Senior Chief.” I gave a mock salute, and he gave me a one-fingered salute.

  Then he was gone, leaving me to figure out how I’d unfuck some of the issues with manning, especially after I inevitably lost Trusch to the asshole running Harbor Patrol. Son of a bitch.

  I shifted in my chair, and some fresh aches and twinges came to life in my hips, ass, and back.

  I grinned. So much for being stressed.

  Murphy’s Law was in full effect that day, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get away on time, never mind early. My guys totally had a handle on the fender bender over at Gate Three, but then one of the drivers had called his chief, who showed up and demanded to speak to our chief, and that meant I had to drive my happy ass over and talk to him. Apparently he thought his guy—a nuclear engineer from the carrier—was completely not at fault, and the other driver—a lowly wrench-turner from down in aircraft maintenance—needed to go to Captain’s Mast for driving recklessly.

  I’d managed to shut him down, of course, and just rolled my eyes at his threats to have me sent to Mast and end my career.

  Nice try, Chief. I’ve been to Mast three times, and my career ain’t over. And it was never for doing my damn job.

  Finally, the scene had been cleared, everyone’d been sent home, and I’d made my escape. I’d texted Anthony of course, letting him know I’d be late, and as soon as I was home and showered, told him to come on over.

  And then wondered if I should’ve held off for a while. All day long, I’d been looking forward to diving into bed with him, but now that he’d be here soon, I was . . . twitchy. Normally I’d be settling in with a drink by now, letting the alcohol smooth over the roughness of the day.

  My phone vibrated.

  On my way. See you soon. ;)

  I grinned, but my gaze flicked toward the bottle of Jack I’d left on the counter this morning. I didn’t have much time, but I did have a few minutes.

  Before I could think twice, I grabbed a glass, threw back two shots in quick succession, then chased them with some water so the flavor wouldn’t overpower Anthony. Not everyone had the same taste in whiskey as I did. And he might not like the smell—that could get a bit overpowering. I hurried down the hall and brushed my teeth for good measure.

  Then I waited f
or him. I tried not to think about whether I could sneak in one more gulp before he showed up. I could barely feel what I’d already pounded—my tolerance was high enough, it took work to actually get a buzz.

  Something told me I’d be distracted from all this once Anthony showed up, though. And for that matter, if I drank enough to feel it, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

  I’d be fine, especially since he’d only be in town for a few more days. I could get shit-faced anytime, but men like Anthony didn’t just fall out of the sky. Might as well enjoy him while he was still here.

  Minutes later, just as I was giving the bottle of Jack another look, debating a third shot, a knock at the door pulled my attention away from anything liquid. Without a second look at the whiskey, I left the kitchen and went to the door.

  Our eyes met across the threshold, and Anthony flashed me a grin that was somehow more predatory than the look he’d shot me in the High-&-Tight last night. “Sorry it took so long. You wouldn’t think there’d be traffic in this town.”

  “You’d be surprised. Come on in.” I stood aside.

  As soon as he was clear of the door, it was game on. Anthony grabbed me and kissed me. Without missing a beat, I used him to push the door shut, and then used the door to keep him right where I wanted him.

  Yeah, I could definitely cope without getting buzzed tonight. One look at him and I was already dizzy. One deep, breathless kiss, and I might as well have been drunk.

  I kissed my way down to his throat. Something about men’s necks always drove me wild, and his was no exception. I loved tracing my lips along the curve leading from his shoulder to his jaw. The way light stubble faded to smooth, warm skin drove me insane.

  “Oh Jesus,” he moaned.

  “Hope you’re planning to be on top tonight,” I panted between kisses. “Been looking forward to—”

  “Oh you better believe it.” He kneaded my ass, rubbing his clothed cock against mine. “I’ve been fantasizing all day about fucking you again.”

  I just moaned. I loved his cock, and anticipation reduced my vocabulary to nothing.

  “I need a condom,” he declared.

  Fuck. We still had our clothes on.

  “What’s your hurry?” I teased, pausing to nibble his earlobe. “We have all—”

  “Because I’m finally close enough to your ass to fuck it, and I don’t want to wait.”

  Well, when you put it like that . . .

  I took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. Like we had last night, we made quick, efficient work of getting out of our clothes, because seriously, why waste time when we could be naked right now?

  I pulled the covers back and got into bed. Anthony climbed in as well, but he turned the opposite direction, and I knew exactly what he wanted even before his lips were around my cock. I squeezed his ass cheek as I took his cock into my own mouth.

  Sixty-nine was one of those things that could be awkward—too many limbs in too many directions, one person not giving as much as they got, knees and elbows hitting sensitive spots—but I wasn’t surprised that wasn’t the case with Anthony. He responded to everything I did to him, and didn’t neglect me in the process. And, somehow, we didn’t feel like a tangle of body parts. Lying this way, heads moving over each other’s cocks in a perfect rhythm, hands sliding over hips and thighs and ass cheeks, it was like we’d been doing this together forever and had it down to a science. Had we really only met last night?

  I could definitely get hooked on him. Especially since, in the last couple of years, I’d been with a few too many men who were basically cold fish. I’d wondered if it was my technique. Was I lacking in ways to make them tremble? Had they been bored?

  Whether or not I was any good, Anthony was definitely not a cold fish. He rocked his hips, sliding himself in and out of my mouth, and making sounds of pure pleasure around my cock. I couldn’t tell if he was more turned on by giving or receiving, or maybe it was the combination, but his enthusiasm was hot as hell. If it was fake, he deserved an Oscar, but I didn’t think it was. Not when his crescendoing moans coincided with his cock getting thicker and harder between my lips.

  Abruptly, though, he stopped and lifted his head. “You still want me to fuck you?”

  I let his cock slide from my mouth. “You better believe it.”

  “Good.” He moved back and shifted onto his knees. “Then let’s do this before I lose my mind.” The combination of desperate and commanding was amazingly hot, and I was moving before I’d made any conscious thought about it.

  “Condoms are over there.” I motioned toward the nightstand. “Top drawer.”

  “Really? I’d assumed they were on the mantel or something.”

  I laughed, but almost choked on it as I watched him reach for the nightstand. The curves and angles of his lean body were positively mouthwatering, and I couldn’t resist running a hand up his thigh as he opened the drawer.

  He glanced back, grinning, then continued getting out a condom and some lube. When he sat up again, his face, throat, and chest were flushed, the pink standing out against his otherwise fair skin. He definitely couldn’t fake that, just like he couldn’t make his pupils dilate. And the prominent erection was damn convincing too, along with the way his fingers weren’t quite steady as he tore the condom wrapper.

  Oh yeah, he was as turned on as I was.

  Rolling on the condom, he said, “Hands and knees. I want to do you hard.”

  “Music to my ears.” I kissed him lightly, and as he put some lube on his cock, I did as I was told, moving onto my hands and knees.

  He knelt behind me, and I held my breath, expecting the blunt pressure of his cock at any moment.

  Soft lips brushed the back of my neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my balls.

  I grunted because I’d forgotten how to use words, and those lips curved into a grin.

  “You’re not in a hurry, are you?” he taunted.

  I managed to convince my mouth to form, “Thought . . . you didn’t want to wait.”

  “I don’t.” He kissed that spot again. “This is all part of the fun.” Before I could respond, he dropped another kiss, and then another, and slowly worked his way along my back. Every kiss threatened to turn me inside out, especially since each was lower than the one before it. I knew what he had in mind before he’d made it past the center of my back. When he paused to draw little circles above my crack, I could barely stand it.

  I swore, letting my head fall forward, and concentrated on keeping my shaking elbows from collapsing under me.

  Anthony pushed my cheeks apart, and the first flutter of his tongue against my hole nearly sent me through the ceiling.

  I gripped handfuls of sheets for dear life. “Fuck!”

  “What’s wrong?” There was a grin in his voice, but also a note of caution. “You don’t like it?”

  “No, I do! I love it. It’s just been a while.” I swallowed, leaning back to encourage him. “Forgot how . . . intense it was.”

  He laughed softly, and then picked up where he’d left off, and . . . fuck. Intense didn’t begin to describe it. I’d always enjoyed this, and I’d been with guys who were good at it, but—surprise, surprise—Anthony licked me like an expert. Like there was a rimming master class out there somewhere, and he’d written the damn textbooks.

  I almost laughed at the thought. Laughed like I was drunk and halfway out of my mind, and I kind of felt like I was, and I was pretty sure he was going to get me all the way there if I let him do this long enough. Not like I was going to stop him. He teased my ass with his tongue and my balls with his fingertips, and I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered curses as I tried not to lose it.

  “Please fuck me,” I breathed.

  “Hmm?” He gave my hole one lap with his tongue. “What’s your hurry?”

  Son of a bitch.

  I gritted my teeth. “Please . . .”

  “I like it when you beg.” He made a circle with the tip of his tongu
e. “Makes me think you really want it.”

  “I do.” I gripped the sheets tighter. “I’ve been wanting it all day.”

  “Yeah? So you’d like it if I fucked you right now?”

  “God, yes. Please fuck—” Another circle killed my ability to speak.

  “Oh, I think you do want it.” He licked again, then planted a kiss on one cheek before he sat up. “And, come to think of it, so do I.”

  My attempts to beg and thank him turned into more cursing, but that sure didn’t deter him. I was more than ready for him, and he didn’t waste any time getting his cock as far as I could take him. He drove himself in, and I thrust back against him to complement his deep, hard strokes.

  “You feel so good.” It came out as something like a sob. “God, Anthony, you feel— Oh God!”

  He groaned, and it might’ve been words, but all that registered was the primal, hungry need in his voice, punctuated by the hard slaps of skin on skin, the creaking bed, and the headboard smacking into the wall. He didn’t let up at all, not even when we were both panting and his muscles had to be burning more than mine were.

  I shifted onto one arm—dangerous with as hard as he was pounding me—but I had to do something about my cock. I started pumping, and we both cursed. His dick seemed even thicker now, so I must’ve tightened around him, and neither of us were complaining because, oh God, this was so, so perfect.

  “Gonna . . . Oh fuck . . .”

  “Come for me,” he growled. “Lemme feel—”

  Didn’t have to tell me twice. Three words, and I lost it, coming on my hand, and the sheets, and probably the pillows and the fucking headboard, and before I’d peaked, Anthony cried out and shuddered. I couldn’t tell if the throbbing I felt was my very-fucked ass, or his cock pulsing with his orgasm, or both, but whatever. I felt too good to care.

  We both gasped as he pulled out, and I collapsed onto the bed while he stepped away to the bathroom. I did manage to grab some tissues and wipe the semen off the sheets, so I wasn’t entirely useless, but I was damn close.