by L. A. Witt
Stroking me through my clothes, he murmured, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You’re doing fine.” I was already out of breath? Jesus. “Trust me. You’re doing just fine.”
Connor gave a soft little moan and kissed me again. As he stroked me and kissed me, I tried to get out of my clothes. I wanted to be close to him, touching skin to skin, and, damn it, I should’ve worn a T-shirt. This one had too damned many buttons. And why the fuck had I worn a belt? Why had he worn one?
Whatever.
A buckle jingled. His shirt found its way to the floor by our feet. Another buckle. Somehow I managed to get his zipper down, and somehow he managed to get a few buttons open on my shirt.
And we were still against the wall by the door.
“We should…” I leaned down and kissed his neck and, for a moment, completely forgot what I’d been trying to say. “The bedroom. We should”—God, his skin was hot—“go in the bedroom.”
Connor exhaled. “You keep doing that,” he murmured, “and we’re not going to make it past your couch.”
I pressed against him and kissed his neck again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not at—”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Connor jumped. “What the hell?”
I glared at the door. “Seriously?”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Maybe you should get that.” Connor slid a hand over the front of my pants. “And if we have to, we’ll just start over.”
God, the way he touched me…
But he was right. We could just start over. And whoever was at the door was damned persistent.
“Good idea.” I kissed him lightly. “Don’t move.”
“I won’t. Much.”
I kissed him once more, and then pushed myself off him.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled. “This had better be fucking important.”
I turned the dead bolt and, with one hell of a tirade waiting on the tip of my tongue, pulled open the door.
And my stomach dropped into my feet. “General Bradshaw?”
From behind me, “Dad?”
I whipped around, eyes wide and jaw open. “What?”
Connor’s face reddened. He looked at me, then past me, then at me again.
Slowly, I faced General Bradshaw. Every unfastened button felt so conspicuous they might as well have been on fire. The hard-on wasn’t such an issue anymore, but the unbuckled belt and the half-untucked shirt were damning enough. Connor’s shirt at our feet and his partially unzipped shorts left absolutely no room for doubt. There was no pretending we’d just been talking or that he’d been here for any purpose other than ripping each other’s clothes off and doing what came naturally.
“Let’s go, Connor,” Bradshaw said coldly.
“Let’s— How did you find me?” Connor shook his head. “And why the hell did you? I’m a grown-ass adult!”
“I followed you.” He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, as if following his son to my apartment was a perfectly logical, rational thing to do. My blood turned cold. If he’d followed Connor, then he’d been here the whole time. Which meant he’d seen us at my door. He’d seen us kissing and then stumbling in through the door. As if our disheveled clothes weren’t incriminating enough.
Bradshaw gestured sharply at his son. “Let’s go.”
Connor planted his feet, staring incredulously at his father. “Are you really going to forbid me to see him? I’m not fifteen, you know.”
“No, you’re not.” Bradshaw turned to me, his hard eyes making my blood run cold. “Stay away from my son, Ensign.”
“Are you kidding me?” Connor snapped. “Dad, I’m—”
“Leaving.” Bradshaw glared at his son. “That’s what you’re doing.”
“Are—”
“Get out of here, Connor.”
“Dad, I’m—”
“And you, Ensign.” Bradshaw faced me and stabbed his finger at my chest. “I mean it. You’ll stay the hell away from my son. That’s an order.”
I looked at Connor. Then Bradshaw. Then Connor again. Good God, how had I not noticed? The general’s hair was buzzed short, but where it hadn’t grayed, it was the same dark brown as his son’s. They both had the same blue eyes. Connor was leaner, Bradshaw more grizzled, but they were unavoidably father and son.
Connor held my gaze, his eyes pleading, but for what? For me to ignore his father? For me to slam the door in the man’s face? For forgiveness?
“Connor.” His father beckoned sharply. “I’ll see you at home.”
Connor’s eyes flicked back and forth from his father to me. Then he sighed, scooped his shirt up off the floor and brushed past me with a whispered “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to reach for him and stop him, but I couldn’t move. I was just caught off guard. Way off guard.
Connor, wait…
General…
The door closed.
I sagged against the wall and exhaled.
Connor must have been mortified. I would have been.
In fact, I was. And I was terrified. I rubbed both hands over my face, wincing as my fingers aggravated the stitches and bruises.
Fuck. So much for no one in my chain of command knowing I was gay. With DADT in the past, I didn’t have to hide my sexuality at work, but I chose to because it was none of anyone’s business. That, and with or without DADT, there was still some hostility toward gays. I knew for a fact that Commander Morris was an outspoken homophobe, and the less he knew about me, the better.
But if my sexuality came out, it wasn’t the end of the world. A headache, yes, but something I could live with. Dating the son of a man who had the power to make my career hell? That was an entirely different thing. He couldn’t officially punish me for it, but he had clout. He had connections.
Christ.
Less than two months on this fucking island, and I’d found two men who’d piqued my interest.
One had put me in the emergency room.
The other was General-fucking-Bradshaw’s son.
Chapter Eight
Connor
I was too numb to do anything but let my dad’s taillights lead me back to Kadena.
Damn it. Fucking damn it. I’d finally connected with a guy, and now this. What the hell? On one hand, I couldn’t believe my father had followed me to Aiden’s place and dragged me out like that. On the other…
Hell. I wasn’t surprised.
At every single stoplight, I debated flipping a bitch and going straight back to Aiden’s. What was the point, though? Dad knew where he lived. Judging by how terrified Aiden had looked when Dad had ordered him away from me, he’d probably shoo me out of his apartment anyway.
I couldn’t blame him. From what I’d seen and heard, Dad was that officer at the command. He said “jump”, they all said “how high?”. And when he said “stay the fuck away from my son”, a smart ensign said “yes, sir”. The fact that I was an adult who could just as easily tell him to fuck himself was a moot point.
Sighing, I thumped my hand against the steering wheel.
Go fuck himself? Yeah. Like it was that simple. I was a dependent, and damn if I didn’t fit that title to the letter. He knew it. I knew it. And that was why I was still behind him as we pulled into the main gate of Kadena Air Base.
He slowed a little while the sentry checked my ID, and waited for me to catch up with him. Bastard. Wasn’t like I didn’t know how to get home. He had to know as well as I did that I wasn’t going to defiantly turn around, screech my tires and take off. That ship had sailed about ten stoplights ago.
We turned off the main road and into Officer Housing, winding up the familiar road to the house. Dad pulled his car into the garage, and I parked mine in its usual spot beside the house. I hoped I could slip in through the front door and disappear into my bedroom—Jesus, was I still sixteen or something?—and avoid my father, but he headed me off i
n the living room.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I tried to step around him, but he sidestepped and blocked me. He didn’t touch me, didn’t even reach for me, but damn if he didn’t stop me in my tracks. “Dad, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Tough shit,” he growled. “What the hell were you doing over there?”
“Do you really want the details?” I snapped. “It’s none of your fucking business who I date or what I do with—”
“It is as long as you are a dependent living under my roof,” Dad threw back. “And as long as you are, you’re not dating anyone who’s under my command.”
“Which rules out about ninety percent of the men on this fucking island, doesn’t it? Unless you want me trolling Futenma for Marines?”
Dad glared at me. “I want you focusing on your studies.”
“Every minute of every day? Jesus fucking Christ, I’m—”
“Watch it, Connor.”
I gritted my teeth. Trust the son of a bitch to make me feel two inches tall. Or twelve years old. Calmer now—well, quieter, at least—I said, “So what do I do? Just throw myself at the books for the next two years and not date anyone at all?”
Dad exhaled. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t believe for a second this is easy.”
“Then why do you—”
“We’ve been over this,” he snapped, tensing up again. “And we’re not discussing it now.” He stabbed a finger at me. “Just stay away from Ensign Lange.”
At the mention of Aiden’s name, the floor dropped out of my anger and my heart dropped into my feet. I should’ve known things wouldn’t work with him. Didn’t think Dad would be the one to interfere, but sooner or later, something would’ve fucked it up.
I just shook my head. “I don’t think I need to. You put the fear of God into him, so I doubt he’ll come anywhere near me.” I looked my dad in the eye. “Mission accomplished, eh?”
With that, I stepped around him and stormed out of the room. Upstairs, I salvaged what little pride I had left and closed the bedroom door as gently and quietly as I could, refusing to give him a second to believe I was still the petulant teenager he seemed to think I was. Yeah, I was pissed. Yeah, I was frustrated. But I wasn’t resorting to slamming doors.
Alone behind a closed door, I took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. This arrangement with my dad had already been about to drive me insane, but now? Fuck.
And it wasn’t like I could move out. Either I lived here with my dad, or I went back to the States. Going back to the States meant living with my mother, which was absolutely not an option, and I couldn’t afford to live on my own yet. Here on Okinawa, employment opportunities for dependents were slim, and most of my time was devoted to college anyway, so I hadn’t been able to come up with much in the way of savings.
I wasn’t sixteen anymore, but damn if I wasn’t still completely dependent on my dad. Under his roof and under his thumb. I had a car, a license and no curfew, but I may as well have been as tethered to this house as my two-year-old half sister.
I stood at my window and stared out at the view of the East China Sea. Now that the confrontation was over, my mind wandered back to everything Aiden and I had been doing before my dad interrupted. I wondered what we’d be doing right then if we’d been left to our own devices. We would’ve been naked by now, no doubt. Then again, Aiden seemed to enjoy taking his time. For all I knew, we’d probably just be getting to his bedroom. And he’d be whispering in my ear what he was going to do to me. Or maybe his mouth would already be on my cock.
I shivered at the thought. God, I wanted him.
This couldn’t be over yet. No way. Dad had vetoed a thing or two in my life, and more than one guy had shied away as soon as he knew my father was That Guy, but I couldn’t accept that I’d lost someone like Aiden that easily.
It was probably a long shot, but I’d never been able to resist long shots anyway, so I pulled out my phone and texted him: Sorry about my dad. Had no idea he’d fucking follow me like that.
I didn’t expect a response. He’d probably deleted me from his phone by now and would delete that message faster than he’d stomp on a cockroach. Less than a minute later, though, my phone buzzed, and a text came through: It’s ok.
A second or two after that: This could make things complicated.
I sighed with tentative relief. Maybe he was still on board with seeing each other after all, even if it meant a little extra discretion.
Gnawing my lip, I wrote: I’d still like to see you.
A long, long moment went by after I sent the message, and my heart pounded harder and harder with every second that passed.
When my phone buzzed again, it startled me so badly I almost dropped it.
I’m off work at 4 tomorrow. Meet somewhere away from the base?
My heart fluttered, but my stomach was still in knots. I don’t want to get you in trouble.
The next message came through, and it took a full minute before I could even look at it. I was sure I already knew what it would say. It had to be Yeah, you’re probably right and It was fun while it lasted.
I looked at the screen: Don’t worry about it. We’ll be discreet.
Closing my eyes, I held my cell phone in both hands and whispered, “Thank God.”
Then I sent back: Meet at your place around 1630?
Thirty seconds later, he replied: I’ll see you then.
With things more or less settled between me and Aiden, I put the phone aside, reopened my textbook and tried to study. After all, it wasn’t like I had any plans for the evening now, and I did have an exam coming up, not to mention a research paper due soon. Might as well use the rest of my evening to make some headway on the work I would not be doing tomorrow night.
Should’ve known it was pointless, though. The words on the page kept reorganizing themselves so all I could read was one simple phrase: I’ll see you then.
Shoving my books aside, I leaned back and stared out the window. I was ahead in this class anyway, and the exam wasn’t until next week. I had time. Of course, I was fooling myself if I thought I’d be able to concentrate any better after I saw Aiden tomorrow, but right now the pins and needles and butterflies were just too much.
I had until tomorrow afternoon to cook up an excuse. My study group is meeting. I’ll be at the library. Something I could leave on a note before Dad got home. I’d thought about having Hitomi pass the message on to him, but she didn’t need to be caught in the middle of this.
I’d figure it out. Somehow, I’d come up with something, buy myself a few hours and meet up with Aiden. Maybe we’d talk about tonight. Maybe we’d both finally come to our senses and realize there was no doing this behind Dad’s back.
Maybe we’d make up for the time we’d lost tonight.
Whatever. I’d see him. Nothing else mattered.
I’ll see you then.
Chapter Nine
Aiden
Department-head meetings were hell. Always. Nothing was more boring than listening to blowhards ramble on about what was going on in their respective departments.
Even better, being the lowest man on the totem pole by at least three or four pay grades, I always had to get there early to make sure the coffee was ready. Woe be unto me if a CO came in at 0645 to an empty coffeepot.
But this morning’s meeting had to be the worst one ever. Even worse than the time Admiral Horton had droned on for a full hour in that god-awful monotone of his about something nobody cared about. I’d wanted to stab myself in the jugular with a pen about ten minutes into that, and after an hour, I was pretty sure I wasn’t alone.
Today, though, I’d have given my right arm to listen to Horton ramble. Why? Because I was sitting right across from General Bradshaw. He’d come in a few minutes before the meeting started and, glaring at me the entire time, had taken the chair opposite mine. There was no tactful way to casually get up and take a seat that took me out of his line of si
ght.
I stared into my coffee cup. Then at the table. I focused hard on my pen, analyzing every piece of microscopic text as if I were observing an alien spacecraft. Anything to keep from looking at the man directly across from me.
He wasn’t going to let this go. No way. God only knew the conversation he’d had with Connor last night, and I was dreading the one he’d have with me. It was weird to be worried about this shit in my twenties instead of my teens, but…there I was.
Two chairs down, Commander Yates stopped talking. I hadn’t heard a word he said—didn’t even realize he was giving his briefing until he’d stopped—but as he fell silent and closed the file folder in front of him, my mind checked back into the meeting.
Beside me, Colonel Patterson tapped a pen on a yellow legal pad. “Thank you, Commander. And what about the Antiterrorism Department?” He turned to me. “Ensign Lange?”
I gulped. I’d long ago gotten over my nerves when it came to speaking in front of officers who outranked me, like this group did, but I couldn’t say the same about speaking in front of the man who’d caught me with his half-dressed son and a hard-on.
I gave my brief, and, unlike some of the other guys here, I kept mine brief. It was dull enough—a list of threat assessments completed in the past week, a rundown of scheduled assessments for the next one, a few comments on some concerns raised about local nationals photographing our aircraft from just outside the fence—without droning on for twenty minutes. That, and the higher-ups preferred to hear themselves talk, not the “shiny new ensign”, as they liked to call me.
And even if I’d been one of the long-winded guys, I was keeping this as short as possible today because, Jesus fuck, this meeting needed to be over before Bradshaw lost his shit and choked me. Which he’d probably do sooner or later anyway. Fuck.
I finished my briefing. A few of the other department heads gave theirs. During his, Bradshaw gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. Well, aside from the ball-withering look he gave me after he finished.
And then the meeting was over. Time to face the general.