Chief's Mess

by L. A. Witt

  “Now that is hard to imagine.” He sighed wistfully. “We probably wouldn’t have crossed paths, then. I was too focused on being valedictorian.”

  “No shit?”

  He nodded, gazing out at the boats as the salt-scented wind ruffled his hair. “Didn’t do me a whole lot of good since I still wound up going to a state university, but it meant college was a cakewalk. I was already used to studying a million hours a day on top of forty-seven extracurriculars, so when I suddenly had three classes a day, it was like . . . that’s it? I was actually kind of annoyed when I started my master’s and suddenly had to work at it again.”

  “I’m sure. So why did you go to a state school? With all of that, couldn’t you have gone Ivy League or something? Gotten a scholarship?”

  “Yeah.” He half shrugged, gaze still fixed on the marina. “But I . . .” He was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I’d stepped on a nerve. Finally he looked at me, an odd smile playing at his lips. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be that far from home yet.”

  “I can understand that.”

  His forehead creased. “Really?”

  “Sure. I work with a lot of guys who left for boot camp a week after graduation. They went from living with Mom and Dad to being sent all over the world, and it can be overwhelming. Hell, it’s not unusual for people to have breakdowns during basic, and I’ve known plenty who do during their first deployment. Or their second or third.”

  Anthony exhaled, like he was relieved I hadn’t given him hell. “Wow, yeah. I guess being away on a ship when you’re not even used to living on your own . . . that must be tough.”

  “Yep. To this day I couldn’t tell you how the soldiers and Marines handle it. When you move out of Mom’s house, and the next thing you know, you’re in a combat zone . . .” I whistled, shaking my head.

  “Damn. Did you ever go to combat? Like, ground combat?”

  “I had the opportunity to volunteer a few times, and I almost did, but . . .” I shook my head again. “I’ve been on a few shipboard combat deployments, but never boots on the ground.”

  “Thank God for that.” He hugged himself like he was suddenly cold. “Kind of seems like those wars managed to fuck people up even if they weren’t in the middle of things, though.”

  “You’re not kidding. Like shipboard deployments—aren’t traumatic like the front lines, but they can fuck with people.”

  Anthony nodded slowly. “I believe it. Hell, my ex-brother-in-law has PTSD really bad from something that happened while he was flying drones.”

  “That’s no surprise.”

  He faced me. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You’re not in the line of fire, but you’re still killing people. That’s bound to screw with you.” I paused. “And it doesn’t help that everyone thinks you’re evil for flying drones, so they’d just as soon spit on you than help you deal with it.”

  “Oh.” Anthony blinked. “I . . . hadn’t thought about that.”

  “I didn’t either. But I knew some guys who flew them for a while. Neither lasted more than a couple of years before they couldn’t cope anymore.”

  “Damn.”

  We both went quiet, and it was a prickly, uncomfortable silence. Not like things were about to explode into an argument; more like neither of us wanted to continue with the topic, but didn’t know how to put a bow around it, let it go, and move on.

  Finally, I cleared my throat. “Want to head back the other way? We can probably wander around the carnival.”

  That brought Anthony to life, and he smiled. “And you’ll be a big strong man and win me a giant teddy bear?”

  I laughed as we started retracing our steps. “Don’t push your luck.”

  And though I never put a hand on a man in public—not outside of a gay bar anyway—it was still a massive struggle not to wrap an arm around his waist.

  I resisted. But for reasons I couldn’t explain, it was not easy.

  Finally got home, Noah texted. Be on in a minute.

  I grinned like an idiot, sitting there on my bed and waiting for him to hit me up on Skype. He’d been late leaving work, which was a pretty regular occurrence. Sometimes he’d grab a shower when he first walked through the door, so I was patient.

  But literally a minute after he texted me, the Skype call came through.

  I accepted it of course, and my heart fluttered when he showed up on the screen.

  “Hey,” he said with an adorable smile. “Sorry I was a bit late.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Usual bullshit?”

  He nodded, rolling his eyes, but didn’t elaborate.

  I looked him up and down as much as the close-cropped frame would allow. He still had on his uniform. Well, part of it. The blue camouflage top was gone, leaving only the snug Navy blue T-shirt. I wondered if he still had on the camouflage pants. Or the boots. I wanted to imagine he had, because Christ, combat boots were hot.

  “Ooh,” I said. “How have I not seen your uniform before?”

  Noah laughed. “Because it’s usually the first thing that comes off when I get home. But I was running late today, so . . .” He shrugged and gestured at himself.

  “You won’t hear me bitching.” I ogled him and didn’t feel the least bit of shame. “Do you wear dog tags?”

  “You mean these?” Noah reached under the front of his T-shirt. When he pulled them out, the silver tags jingled on their chain, and I wasn’t at all embarrassed at how they sent my temperature soaring. So I liked guys in uniform?

  “You really should wear those one of these nights,” I said.

  “Oh yeah?” He let them fall on his chest, and eyed me. “So you can use them like a leash?”

  I perked up. “Would you like—”

  “Don’t even think about it.” He laughed. “But, hey, maybe I will wear them. I mean, they don’t do much for me, but they do add a nice ambiance when I’m on top.”

  I gulped. “Meaning?”

  He held them up again and shook them, and as they jingled again, my mouth watered.

  “Dear God,” I croaked, my cock hardening rapidly. “Yes, you are so wearing those to bed.”

  “If they make you squirm like that”—he let them drop again—“you’re damn right I am. I’ll make sure to pack them for this weekend.”

  “Mmm, this weekend.” My dick got even harder from the thought of how close his visit was. “Two more days. I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I. In fact, the airline sent me one of those ‘it’s almost time for your trip’ emails today.” He rolled his eyes as he reached off screen and pulled a drink into the frame. “No shit, right? Like I’d forgotten.”

  You’ve been home ten minutes and you’re already drinking? Or is that a Coke?

  I laughed uneasily. “Well, you never know. I mean, how does the airline know you’re not going to visit your evil mother-in-law or taking some boring business trip?”

  “I wouldn’t want to be reminded of those either.” He took a deep swallow and grimaced—yep, it was definitely booze—before putting the drink aside again. “But they really should have a box you can check that says I’m going to fuck this really hot guy—trust me, I will not forget.”

  My blood heated up. Any way his flight could get bumped up? To, say, now? Or if he started driving, maybe he’d get—

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sure you could mention that in one of their customer service surveys.”

  “Hmm, maybe I will.” He chuckled, leaning back on his couch. His shoulder moved, and though I couldn’t tell for sure, I suspected he was adjusting himself.

  I couldn’t blame him, and in fact, did the same thing. And my uneasiness about his drink—hell, that was stupid. A lot of people came home and had a drink while they were winding down. It didn’t mean they were an alcoholic like my idiot ex-brother-in-law. He was drinking, not drunk.

  So I let the ridiculous worrying go, and focused on him. “I can’t wait to see you, by the way.” I grinned, and I meant it. “
I can’t promise you’ll be walking when you get back to Anchor Point, though.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Might make it tough to do your job.”

  “I’m basically a manager. I can sit at a desk if I need to.”

  “Can’t promise that’ll be any easier.”

  Noah shifted enough to let me know I had his attention. “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh.” I made a drawn-out show of licking my lips because I knew he loved that. “If you want to do any touristy stuff while you’re here, might I suggest we do it on Friday? Because I doubt you’ll want to do anything on Sunday.”

  “I can’t think of anything I want to do besides you.”

  I shivered so hard, I nearly knocked my laptop off my leg.

  Noah laughed softly, as if he knew exactly how many buttons he was pushing. Still smirking, he said, “I’m curious about something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He tilted his head. “You ever watch porn with someone?”

  “Funny you should ask.”

  “Oh yeah?” Noah lifted his eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

  “One of my favorite things in the world is . . .” Closing my eyes, I shifted again because my pants were getting increasingly uncomfortable. The thought turned me on, and I’d go off way too soon.

  “Tell me.” The words came out as a delicious growl.

  I forced my eyes open again. “Sitting a guy down. Putting a super-hot porno in front of him. And then blowing him while he watches it.”

  “Oh.” He exhaled. “That . . . does sound hot.”

  “Uh-huh. And you want to know why it’s so hot?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re watching two or three or however many insanely hot men doing insanely hot things.” I suppressed another shiver. “But no matter how much you want to be focused on them, you’re focused on me and what I’m doing.”

  If he tried to suppress his shiver, he failed miserably. “Oh God . . .”

  “You like the sound of that?”

  “So fucking much.” He met my gaze through the webcam. “I’m gonna have a porno queued up and ready to go next time you’re here.”

  “Or I could have one ready and waiting when you get here.”

  He swallowed. “Please do.” Then he fidgeted some more. “Goddamn, I was worried I wouldn’t have the energy to do anything tonight, but . . .”

  “Show me.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Come on. We’ve done this how many times? Let me watch you jerk off.” Yeah, we’d done it a lot recently, but the novelty hadn’t begun to wear off. In fact, now that I knew I’d be in the same room with him very, very soon—that he’d be in the bed I was currently sitting on—watching him get off was like a delicious tease of everything I’d get to do in a few days.

  Noah didn’t speak. He moved around a bit more, and I recognized the motion of his arm. His hand was off-camera, but I could tell he was undoing his pants, and the moment he had his fingers around his dick? Holy hell. Never failed—his eyes slid closed and his lips parted.

  “Oh God.” His arm and shoulder gave away that familiar down-up motion. “I almost had to do this at work.”

  “Yeah?” I leaned in, as if I could get a better view, or taste or smell him if I got close enough to the screen. “Why’s that?”

  “Started . . . thinking about this weekend.” He opened his eyes and met mine, blown pupils visible from here. “I can’t wait, Anthony. You don’t even know.”

  “Neither can I.” Shit, was I out of breath too? I adjusted the front of my pants again, but . . . to hell with it. I held my laptop steady in one hand, and undid my belt and zipper with the other. In seconds—though it felt like days—I joined him, stroking my rock-hard length as I struggled to keep my eyes open and watch him do the same.

  “That is so hot,” he murmured. “Kinda want to watch you do it in person, but . . .” He trailed off into a sigh as a shudder slowly rolled through him. “Why waste the opportunity to touch you?”

  I almost bit down on a whimper, but let it go because he loved it when I was vocal. “Yeah. Don’t think you’ll be jerking off while you’re here.” I licked my lips again, but this time it was because they were suddenly dry. Probably because I was already breathing so damn hard. “You won’t be getting near your own cock if I’m in the same room.”

  Noah moaned. The muscles in his upper arm quivered, and he pumped himself faster. “Jesus, I need to come.”

  “Then come.”

  He bit his lip. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed. “Fuck . . .”

  “Come on,” I purred. “Let me watch you come.” My own hand was barely moving now. The sight of him alone was almost enough to drive me over the edge I was already teetering on. “You know you want to, Noah.”

  He didn’t say anything, but the camera wobbled slightly, and he must’ve been giving all he had now, not caring if the laptop stayed steady or anything, as long as he got off. I was in heaven. I didn’t care that I couldn’t see his cock. I’d seen plenty of cum-shots in my life. What turned me on was his face. The way he squeezed his eyes shut. The deep crevices between his eyebrows. How his lips pulled across his teeth as he got closer, closer, closer, and—

  “Oh God!” His eyes flew open, but they were unfocused. Wide, wet, staring at nothing as I stared at him, and his whole body trembled with the force of his orgasm. Semen dotted his dark T-shirt, one drop landing just shy of his collar while another narrowly missed his dog tags.

  “Holy shit, that’s hot.” My own voice was barely more than a moan. Like I’d been the one coming, not him. Not that I was far from it—between watching and listening to him, and stroking myself, I wanted and needed to come, like, now.

  He slowly drew his tongue across his lips. “Jesus.”

  “I can’t wait to see that in person,” I whispered.

  “I can’t wait either.” He looked at me, eyelids heavy. “I come so much harder with you.”

  “Yeah, me . . . me too.”

  “Speaking of which . . . I believe it’s your turn.”

  I managed one syllable of something—I didn’t even know what I’d meant to say—and semen erupted from my cock. My whole body jerked, nearly knocking my computer off my leg, and my eyes rolled back as I came like I’d been needing to all damn day.

  We both relaxed, and for the longest time, the only sounds were both of us breathing hard.

  When he’d caught his breath, he said, “I assume you have plenty of condoms and lube for this weekend.”

  “Oh honey.” I grinned broadly. “I already made a special trip to Costco just for you.”

  “Good.” He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “’Cause we’re gonna need them.”

  One more night. In the morning, I’d be on my way to Portland, getting on a plane, and flying to Denver. This time tomorrow, I’d be in a room that smelled like sex with a beautiful man covered in his sweat and mine, and I couldn’t wait.

  I squirmed in my desk chair. A few more hours. I could do this. Then I’d grab a drink, pack, sleep, and tomorrow . . .

  God, I can’t wait.

  Any other time, if I’d been this horny, I’d have done something about it by now. Something besides jacking off. Finding sex wasn’t that difficult in Oregon. There was the High-&-Tight. There were apps. There was the town of Flatstick and its copious gay bars. In a pinch, there was Portland. Hell, I’d made that drive a few months ago. Spent a ridiculously hot night with a pair of cute hipsters, and to this day still wondered how they’d crammed cocks that big into pants that tight.

  But lately I hadn’t been interested in apps or clubs or whatever Portland had to offer. They’d only leave me frustrated because, Jesus, Anthony was a hard act to follow. Eventually I’d have to dip my toes into the hookup world again and remember that yes, I had enjoyed sex prior to Anthony, but at least for this weekend, I was going to get my fix of that kind of sex.

  Just had to
make it through today, tonight, and the flight. And whatever teasing Anthony decided to dish out, because he was a bastard like that.

  Though I supposed if I pinned him down and promised to fuck his ass so hard I’d bruise his tonsils, he’d go from taunting to begging in a heartbeat. He liked to tease, but every man had his weaknesses.

  I grinned to myself, goose bumps prickling under my uniform. Oh yeah. This visit was going to be fun. We had something better than the novelty of a brand-new piece of ass—someone we’d been with before and had been anticipating long enough to drive us both crazy. I couldn’t wait.

  It would’ve helped if the day weren’t crawling by. And it wasn’t only my anticipation that had the hours dragging out.

  For base cops like me, there were days when we thought everyone had lost their minds. Shoplifting. DUIs. Speeding. Confrontations. Assaults. Domestics. Suspicious behavior. Noise complaints. Reckless driving. Gate runners. Civilian boats in our harbor. Things like murder were rare—like, snow-in-Phoenix rare—but there was plenty happening to keep me and my guys busting our asses until the end of shift.

  And then there were days like today.

  Days.

  When.

  Nothing.

  Fucking.

  Happened.

  No one was surprised it was a quiet day. In fact, we’d expected it. The carrier and the supply ship were at sea right now. They were due for a deployment later in the year, so they were going out for short sea trials to make sure everything was in working order. Two squadrons were gone too—they were with the ship, getting in some practice with carrier landings.

  I shuddered. Tomorrow’s flight would make me nervous enough. I’d taken a flight off a carrier once, and if I never experienced a catapult again, it’d be too soon. Landing on the boat? Oh fuck that shit.

  So, with the ships and squadrons gone, the population on base—not to mention out in town—dropped. The pier and the flight line were all but deserted. Anchor Point wasn’t quite a ghost town, but you could definitely tell when five thousand-plus people up and disappeared. On the bright side, fewer people meant fewer calls to security. Shorter lines at the liquor store and the Exchange. Almost no traffic getting on and off base.