Shared By the Soldiers (Gay Shorts MMM+ #5)

Chapter 1

“Dude, this water is hot.”

“That’s the point, Diego. It’s a solar shower.”

“No, I mean hot. Like burning-my-ass-off hot.”

I squeeze my own shower bag to check the temperature. Diego’s right. The thing sat in the sun all afternoon, and now it feels like we’re getting blasted with water from a tea kettle.

Kade laughs from where he’s already stripped off his uniform, waiting for his turn.

“Pussy,” he says, grinning.

“I’m Puerto Rican, man. I’m supposed to be good with heat. This is some other shit.” Diego leans away from the spray and winces.

Kade shakes his head. “Hurry it up. Some of us smell like swamp.” He turns to Yassir. “You need a shower, man. Bad.”

Yassir is sitting on a fallen tree, methodically cleaning his rifle. He doesn’t look up. “Keeps the biters away,” he says, his accent thick.

“Yeah, maybe,” Kade says, “but it’ll start attracting vultures soon, man.”

I smell my own armpits, out of curiosity. Yeah. We all stink. Drills, river crossings, crawling through mud. The heat doesn’t help either. A hot shower, even one from a plastic bag hanging from a tree, feels like a luxury.

We’ve got two solar bags rigged between trees, so we’re doing this in shifts. Me and Diego, then Kade and Emilio, then Buck and Yassir. Four minutes each to wash off the day’s grime. The sun is already starting to dip below the canopy, and the bugs are beginning their nightly assault.

Diego grits his teeth and ducks under the spray, yelping as the water hits him. “Fuck. It’s like being attacked by a hot squid.”

“A hot squid?” Kade calls out. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” Diego soaps up fast, his smooth, tattooed skin turning pink from the heat. “You’ll see when it’s your turn.”

His big cock flops as he lathers up, and I try not to notice. I try really hard. But it’s right there, and he’s not shy about it. None of them are. We’ve gotten used to being in each other’s space like this. But still. I shouldn’t be looking. Not at Diego. Not at any of them.

It’s been happening more and more. These moments where my brain focuses on the wrong things.

On the V of Kade’s hips when he stretches, on the sweat slicking Buck’s hairy chest, on the size and shape of their cocks.

I used to think it was just curiosity. Sizing them up the way guys do, comparing.

But lately, my heart starts pounding, heat spreading through my gut. And I know it’s more than that.

I blame the situation. We’re isolated out here, no women for a hundred miles, nothing to keep us in check. Maybe this is what happens when testosterone is all you’re surrounded by. Your brain rewires itself. Starts looking for outlets.

Or maybe I’m just a fucking pervert.

I duck my head under my own stream, letting the water run over my face and neck. I keep my eyes closed, focus on the sting of it. The burn. Anything but Diego’s wet body next to me, the muscles in his back flexing as he scrubs his legs.

This is supposed to be our proving ground. Eight weeks of field training. Eight weeks away from phones, computers, civilization. Eight weeks of running, carrying, crawling in some godforsaken stretch of woods in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

But how can I prove myself as a soldier if I can’t even control my own thoughts?

“Hurry up, asshole,” Kade says to Diego. “You’re using all the water.”

He’s always pushy, always on the verge of starting something. It’s in the way he stands, the way he talks. In the way he’s always looking for a weakness to exploit.

Diego flips him off. “Patience, hermano. Good things come to those who wait.” He rinses the soap from his buzzed head and steps out, shaking himself like a dog. Water droplets fly everywhere. “There. Saved you some hot squid juice.”

“Damn, that sounds disgusting,” Emilio says, waiting for me to finish so he can take my spot.

I rinse the last of the soap off and step out, grabbing my towel from a tree branch.

Kade steps under Diego’s bag. There’s not a hint of self-consciousness in him.

He’s just comfortable, in a way I can’t seem to be.

The hot water hits him, and he doesn’t even flinch.

He tilts his head back and lets it run over his face.

This guy’s got a remarkably high pain threshold.

Emilio takes my spot, and while I pull on my PT shorts, I can’t help looking at the rest of the guys. They’re all in various states of undress, muscles glistening in the fading light. And I feel that heat again, that deep, twisting ache.

Diego, toweling off, drops something and bends to grab it, and my eyes go straight to the curve of his ass, framed by the tan lines from his shorts. He’s all tight muscle and smooth skin, and the tattoos that run up his arms and across his back make him look like a real warrior.

Kade is pure brute force. He’s thicker than Diego, broader in the shoulders, dusted with coarse dark hair on his chest and belly.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, and as he soaps it up, he handles it like it’s just another body part, no different from washing an arm.

It’s a big piece of equipment, bigger than average, and he must have impressed plenty of women with that.

I wonder if he knows how to use it, or if he’s one of those guys who’s all size and no skill.

Emilio is the closest thing I have to a friend out here.

We met in the first week of basic training and clicked right away.

Blond buzz cut, blue eyes, lean build, less muscle than Kade but more defined.

We’ve been naked around each other plenty during basic, yet I still catch myself looking at him.

At the way the water beads on his shoulders.

The trail of hair from his navel to his cock.

He’s smaller than Kade, but perfectly proportioned, with a slight curve to the left.

Then there’s Buck. Big, hairy Buck. He’s built like a bear, with a thick beard and a massive chest covered in dark curls.

He’s the oldest of the group at twenty-six, and there’s an intensity in him that can be unsettling.

Right now, he’s waiting for Kade to finish, leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. He’s the hairiest guy I’ve ever seen.

His balls are a full forest, and his cock is the thick, uncut trunk rising out of it.

Everything about him is big, from his hands to his boots to his presence.

And finally, Yassir. He keeps to himself mostly.

When he does speak, it’s with a dry, dark wit.

He’s lean and wiry, with almost no body hair, and he moves with a confidence that makes him seem older than twenty.

The way he’s cleaning his rifle now, with that intense focus, is how he does everything.

With precision. Like he’s solving a puzzle.

I wonder if he fucks like that, too. He certainly has the cock for it, which is surprisingly big for his build.

There’s a knot in my stomach. I feel like I’m betraying them somehow by looking at them this way, by cataloging their bodies like I’m studying a menu.

But I can’t help it. There’s a hunger in me that I don’t understand, a need I’m scared to name.

And every day out here, every hour I spend in their company, it gets a little stronger.

I know these thoughts are going to get me in trouble.

Sooner or later, I’m going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, and then everyone will know what a sick fuck I truly am.

I’ll get thrown out of the Army. I’ll disgrace my family.

All because I can’t stop thinking about my squadmates’ cocks.

“Yo, Adrian, you done daydreaming?” Kade claps me on the shoulder as he walks past, his wet cock bouncing against his thigh. “You thinking about some girl back home?”

“Something like that,” I say, not looking at him. I stare at the ground instead, at the dirt and dead leaves, at the water pooling around my bare feet.

“Get your mind on the mission, soldier,” Buck says as he steps into the shower spot. “This ain’t no vacation. We’ve got land nav tomorrow, and you know Rourke’s gonna be on our asses about it.”

He gives me a pointed look, and I nod. I know. I know what’s expected of me. I just don’t know if I can deliver.

While Buck and Yassir take their showers, the rest of us break out dinner. MREs—Meals Ready to Eat. Prepackaged military food that tastes like cardboard but fills you up. I grab one labeled beef stew and sit on a log near the small fire Diego’s working on.

The sun is setting behind the trees, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

The air is finally starting to cool down.

It’s peaceful, and I try to focus on the sounds of the woods.

The chirping of the crickets. The crackle of the fire.

But the images from the shower keep replaying in my head, and the knot in my stomach won’t go away.

I’ll have to hide it better. That’s the only answer. Bury it deep. Focus on the mission. Be the soldier they need me to be. I have to hope that’s enough to keep the monster inside me from breaking free.