They headed out, through the sleepy town on the 45 kilometer journey to Tokyo. They started talking about everything and nothing all at once, and Joe in particular was still in awe that they just had sex.
“I never had sex with a man before today,” confided Joe.
“I’m just so hot I made you question your sexuality, eh?” asked Greg, smirking.
“You wish.” said Joe. “I had a conservative family, and now, in the service, I’m terrified that I’ll be caught out as a homosexual and separated from the service.”
“Damn, that’s got to be rough,” said Greg. “I guess my thing is, I don’t really care. If they catch me, I’m going to make a huge damn row, angry enough to get it all the way to the Supreme Court. I’m not ‘in love’ with the service or anything. Some days, it fucking sucks. But it’s what I know, I mean, what does a fighter pilot do without an airplane? I don’t have a normal set of professional skills.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” said Joe. “I guess it’d be easier for me because I’m a nurse. I could probably scrounge up a recommendation from somebody.”
“Even after the court martial?”
“Colonel Burns is a nice guy,” said Joe. “Yeah, he’d have to boot us if he found out. But after we leave, I don’t think he’d hold it against us. He’s a swell guy.”
“I don’t know,” said Greg. “I don’t know what I’d do after, after the lawsuit of course. Maybe write a book. It sucks being gay in the military.”
“I’m bi,” said Joe, casually.
“What?” asked Greg, his eyes widening. Joe was full of surprises. Like many gay men, Greg was aware that he carried an unfounded prejudice against bisexual men, viewing them as “not quite gay” or gay impostors. Still, he tried to say nothing, swallowing hard.
“I’m bi,” said Joe, “and it still sucks.”
“Less, I assume.”
“Well, let’s look at the men to women ratio for a second in the Air Force.” said Greg. “And then the hot men to hot women ratio. The odds aren’t in my favor for a straight relationship either. I’m too… picky.”
“What’s your type?” asked Greg, curious.
“Taller than me, dark hair and eyes, tattoos, muscular…” said Joe, his voice trailing off.
“You just described me, babe,” said Greg, amused. “Which of my tattoos is your favorite?”
“Fuck off, that was a very general description,” said Joe, smiling. “And I’m not sure; I’ll have to see you naked again.”
“I’m a general guy.”
“Anything but, and you’re only a captain, as far as rank goes,” said Joe, laughing.
“Fuck off.”
It was a short ride to Tokyo, not as fast as in an airplane, of course, but between the anticipation of a good meal and their flowing conversation, Greg was pleasantly surprised to find how quickly they got to their destination without him being bored once.
Greg was surprised when Joe drove into the city, past all the bright lights, and slowed down, but didn’t stop. He drove almost halfway across the city before turning sharply and pulling into an elevated parking garage. Greg stared as Joe skillfully navigated the car through the odd apparatus where the cars were stacked.
“Parking here is at a premium,” said Joe. “What, never been to Tokyo before?”
“Nah,” said Greg, “I’ve spent too much time trying to pretend I’m not stationed in Japan.”
“Weird,” said Joe, laughing.
They walked out into the brightly colored neon streets and Greg took Joe by the arm as they wandered along.
“Want some local flavor?” asked Joe, grinning.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s ditch the high streets,” he said, and they took several turns to navigate to a small alley filled with the aroma of noodles and spices.
“Have you ever had ramen?” asked Joe, his eyes shining as he looked up slightly at Greg.
“Sure, out of the microwave,” Greg replied.
“No, I mean for real, come on,” said Joe, tugging at Greg’s sleeve with the eagerness of a golden retriever puppy. Greg smiled and let Joe lead him. It was obvious that Joe wanted to give Greg his entire world, and Greg was happy to let him.
“Kon’nichiwa,” said Joe, sliding in to sit on a worn wooden seat in front of a noodle place. “Men no 2 hachi kudasai,” he continued.
“Two bowls of noodles,” he translated, to Greg. He turned back to the counter and continued speaking Japanese, as they finished the transaction.
“I’ve ordered two bowls of the house special to start. We may want more; the portions here are cheap but small. Good snacks.”
“Gotcha,” said Greg. “You speak Japanese?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been in this country for long enough, but I also took the language in college. I started it just to fulfill a requirement, but to be honest, I got hooked. Big time.”
“I bet,” said Greg. “You know, then you’re enthusiastic about something, it really shows.”
“It does?”
“Yeah,” said Greg, settling back a little on his stool, “and that’s something really special about you. So many people nowadays are afraid to show enthusiasm or really let on that they care about something. May I kiss you?” he asked.
“Christ, no, not here,” said Joe. “Listen. There’s a major historical basis for positive outlooks on homosexuality in Japan, but I’m not sure what this guy thinks.”
“Okay,” said Greg. “I just… I mean usually I wouldn’t feel the need to ask, but to be honest; I’m a little out of my element out here. I don’t even speak the language.”
“Just smile when you’re eating and slurp your noodles loudly,” said Joe, smiling. “Oh, here we go, kansha!I.”
“It means thanks,” he said, pulling apart his disposable chopsticks and shoveling noodles into his mouth.
“Kansha,” repeated Greg, as he grabbed his own bowl of noodles and began slurping them down as well. There was something about the umami tastes of fat, oil, and other flavors he couldn’t quite identify that made this dish wholly unique to anything he had ever experienced. The noodles were gone too quickly for his liking.
“Already?”
“You always have to order multiple,” said Joe, “or at least, I’m pretty sure most Americans do.”
The next dishes came out with two bright green drinks in glass bottles. Joe opened his quickly and started drinking, but Greg stared at it, puzzled at the packaging. He found a glass marble in the top of the opening he assumed one was supposed to drink out of after he opened the top. He noticed the Joe had somehow knocked the glass marble into the bottle; however, he couldn’t seem to get it to budge with his fingers.
“Oh, right,” said Joe, picking up the drink’s cap, peeling away the sides, and using it to knock the marble into the bottle. “You’ve never had ramune before, have you?”
“Nope,” said Greg, taking a swig. “What flavor is this? This is good.”
“It’s green apple soda,” said Joe, smiling.
Greg grinned and downed another gulp. It was always really cool to try new things, and it was downright exhilarating to be able to experiment with such a hot guy — and to experiment in every sense of the word. Greg was already planning on what exactly to do to Joe as soon as they got back to their room.
Their days started to pass in a glowing haze. Three weeks into his detox session, Greg was sitting in Colonel Burns’ office filing paperwork and realizing that he was kind of falling in love with Joe. Like, not in the hearts and flowers and gross cards with swans on them way, but rather, the kind of “I wouldn’t mind falling into a rhythm with you and living together forever” kind of permanent, mature way.
And maybe a little bit of the hearts and flowers way, but Greg would have to adapt that to get alcohol out of the picture, at least for now. It used to be that he could think of nothing more romantic than sharing a bottle of wine under the stars with a guy, but now, thanks to Joe and their night out in the cit
y, he could think of more.
He thought back to how Joe’s eyes shone when he shared his world with Greg. A world that he had somehow adopted and learned to live with. Greg belatedly realized that Tokyo was his escape from everything. His escape from the screaming in the psych ward and the alcoholics and drug abusers in ADAPT. He could dive into an entirely new world and take on another persona, complete with a new language, to forget everything and learn about a fascinating and ancient culture. Greg wondered what other hiding spots he had, what other gems he had found hidden inside the world’s most technophiliac, neon lit city.
“What’re you thinking about, Kramer?” asked Colonel Burns, walking into the office and seeing Greg propped up on one elbow, staring off through the window. “And where are all of the papers I wanted you to file?”
“They’re taken care of sir,” said Greg, standing belatedly as one was always required to do whenever a superior entered the room. “Everything is in order.”
“Except your nog,” said Burns, sitting down in his desk chair and lighting up a cigarette. “What’s gotten in there, Kramer? Pretty girl?”
“No, sir,” said Greg, scrambling to leave. He hated these kinds of questions.
“Kramer, what is it?”
“Don’t ask me, sir, and I won’t have to tell you,” he said, biting the bullet. Technically, any mention of homosexuality could get him separated, but a new bill was right around the horizon that could at least prevent commanders from asking anybody if they were gay.
“I’ve heard that line a lot,” said Burns. “Well, as you were, Kramer. As long as you show up and do your duty, I don’t care what anybody does in their free time.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir!” said Greg, relieved. That could have really been a doozy. He picked up his kit and strode out the door. It was finally time for dinner again, and that meant that he would be able to see Joe again. He’d been especially longing for the man all day, and tonight, while the rest of the officers were at the mess hall, he would be able to take him exactly how he wanted him.
When he got into the room, he came in to see Joe in quite a state. He was the picture of debauchery, lying in his bed fingering his back entrance with what Greg could only describe as wild abandon.
“What’s going on, babe?” asked Greg, looking down, amused, at his lusty lover. Joe stopped fingering himself for a second and looked up at Greg with glazed eyes.
“I can’t come.”
“What?”
“I have been doing this all day, pretty much, since you left for Burns’ office. I had to call in sick from work, Greg, it’s been awful. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I need you, Greg, I need you horribly. I wish I was making this up. This is the sort of thing that you see in the scary psychosexual pornos.”
“Should I fuck you, or take you to the hospital?” asked Greg, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, definitely fuck me,” said Joe, laughing with a strange edge that Greg couldn’t quite place. “And quickly.”
Every time they had fucked before, Greg had always made sure he remembered to use a condom, but the urgency of this situation was such that he ripped down his pants and thrust himself quickly into Joe’s needy hole, filling and stimulating him with long, deep strokes as their bodies moved together doggy style. There was something insanely arousing about Joe’s current state. Everything about the man was sending shivers down Greg’s spine.
“You smell so good, babe,” said Greg, kissing up the back of Joe’s neck. Joe backed himself towards Greg to deepen his thrusts.
“Faster, please,” Joe squeaked.
“My, you are quite the needy fellow, aren’t you?” asked Greg, purring. This, for some odd reason, was the best sex possibly even of his life, though certainly the best yet with Joe. Joe was very, very tight and hot, and Greg’s cock was rock hard, straining harder than he had ever felt before. It was as if some last restraint in his body or mind had snapped and he was succumbing to the rawest and basest of pleasures, made sublime by his emotional connection to this beautiful man below him. He slammed into Joe harder and harder, feeling nothing except the pleasure pulsating in his cock, and he silently collapsed forwards onto Joe, biting into his shoulder as his orgasm felt like it was tearing him in two.
“Greg, I—“panted Joe, piteously. “I still haven’t finished.” He flopped over onto his back, piteously.
“Holy fuck!” exclaimed Greg. Joe’s cock was almost purple, straining up against his belly, and Joe’s entire body was flushed with intense arousal. “Gosh, you must be pretty close.”
“I know, right?” asked Joe. “Ugh, this is how I have been feeling all day. I promise, I haven’t taken anything, and I don’t think this is dangerous at all yet. But, I feel like… oh, I don’t know, I feel like if I don’t come, I’ll die.”
“That’s quite dramatic,” remarked Greg.
“It’s true.” said Joe, with fervor. “Just look at the state I’m in.”
By now, Joe knew those words would have an effect on Greg. Greg sucked on Joe’s cock for a few minutes before his own cock was finally erect again.
“You want round two, I presume,” said Greg, positioning himself. “It’s just funny, is all, usually you get off quickly with penetration, and that oral should have done you in.”
“I don’t know,” said Joe. “We can unpack this later. Now, please, start fucking me hard before I yell and the entire Air Force knows we are gays.”
“You bet your sweet ass I don’t want that,” Greg chuckled, and the race was on again. Joe was horribly sticky and sweaty with a tomato red face, a back covered in bite and scratch marks, and a belly full of semen before he finally shot his own load, spattering semen all over the top sheet on his bunk.
“That was… quite the spectacle,” said Greg finally, after his round of four dry orgasms. “I was not for a million years expecting to come home to this, though I’m glad I did,” he said, smiling ruefully. “Now, we gotta shower, we gotta clean your sheet. Fuck, we have so many things that we have to do and so little time, it’s absolutely unfair.”
“Yeah, kind of like your enrollment in the ADAPT program was unfair,” said Joe, sleepily.
“Well, I guess my main complaint is that I’m not an alcoholic,” said Greg, rehashing the same conversation they’d had a couple times. “But you’ve sure cured me of chronic boredom.”
“I’m glad to hear that I could perform some small service,” said Joe, sleepily.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” said Greg. “You can shower first.”
“Okay,” said Joe, stretching and getting up. “What time is it?”
“We have literally been going at it for hours,” said Greg, “and we’ve missed dinner cause you’ve been such a slut. It’s around 2200 hours.”
“Shit,” exclaimed Joe quietly.
“My sentiments exactly,” said Greg, laughing. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say.”
“Come on, get cleaned up and we can sleep or something,” said Greg. Greg quickly stripped the bed and remade it while Joe showered, and then he took his turn. He backed out of the shower to find his lover already asleep, lying on his bed peacefully with one arm flung above his head.
“Goodnight, Joe,” he said, laughing a little as he crawled into his own bed.
All good things must come to an end, or at least, a pause, thought Greg as he stood in Colonel Burns’ office, finally getting the paperwork done for his release back to flying from the ADAPT program. He was well aware of Joe standing right behind him as Colonel Burns signed the paperwork.
“Here you are, Kramer” said the Colonel, handing Greg an envelope. “You’re a free man. And you’re headed off for some war games.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to be part of a joint training exercise in the south pacific, instead of just being on this old Japan to Alaska gig?”
“Yes sir,” said Greg, smiling despite himself. Although heading to Japan every day
was good for him as far as his prospects of seeing and staying together with Joe, an offer like that was something he simply couldn’t refuse.
“Well, it’s settled then. You’ll have a little under a year in Fairbanks to smooth everything out, and then you’ll be in the training exercise in the next fall. How does that sound?”
“Excellent, sir!”
“Well, you’re dismissed. Walsh, see Kramer back to his plane.”
“Yes, sir,” said Joe, with less enthusiasm than Greg had expected, although, to be fair, Greg wasn’t particularly looking forwards to leaving Joe either. Then again, they wouldn’t be seeing each other quite often for a long time yet.
There were too many mechanics around for Greg to say much at all to Joe, but when he gave him a hug and a clap on the back goodbye, he said words he had been meaning to say for at least a week.
Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance Page 108