Thirty-Eight
Arseny
If anyone bothered to audit the last ten days properly, Caiden Varrik and I would be court-martialled on principle alone.
We’ve broken the no-sex-on-base rule so many times that it stops feeling transgressive and starts feeling logistical.
Storerooms, offices, and vehicles that absolutely should not have been occupied.
Corners of the compound where prying eyes don’t quite reach, and footsteps echo just enough to warn you before disaster.
I’m honestly impressed he can still walk straight.
There’s a quiet satisfaction in that thought. A smug, mean little spark that lives somewhere inside. I catch myself watching him cross a room and thinking, yeah, that’s mine, in a way that is wildly inappropriate and deeply satisfying.
Tonight doesn’t feel like the others, though.
The mess hall is loud in that specific way that only happens before departures.
Too much laughter, too many hands clapping shoulders, Vodka bottles appearing where they shouldn’t, and people pretending they’re celebrating when really, they’re bracing for absence.
The Brits are leaving in the morning.
Caiden is laughing with someone near the middle tables, a drink in hand, his shoulders loose. He looks good. Relaxed. Like he’s leaning into the noise to keep from thinking too hard about the morning.
I don’t join in, I hover near the edges instead, nursing a drink I don’t want, my eyes tracking him constantly. I can feel the clock ticking somewhere behind my brain, each second tightening the coiling, sick feeling in my stomach.
Niko appears at my side like he always does; his expression is unreadable, glass in hand. “You’re brooding,” he says mildly.
“I am supervising,” I reply.
He snorts. “Sure you are,” he teases. Then he lifts my hand and slips something into my palm — a key. I glance down at it, then back at him. “Visitors’ bunks,” Niko says quietly. “Third floor. End of the hall. Don’t be stupid.”
“That narrows it down,” I mutter.
He meets my eyes, seriousness threading through the humour. “He’s wheels up at 0800. Make sure he’s back in his room before then. Packed and sober enough to pass inspection.” I close my fingers around the key.
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it far more than the words cover.
Niko’s mouth tilts. “Don’t make it harder than it already is.”
It takes me less than a minute to find Caiden. He looks up when he sees me approach, his smile already forming, and something in me goes all fuzzy at how automatic it is. I lean in close, my mouth almost brushing his ear. “Visitors’ bunks, third floor, five minutes.”
His smile shifts. “Is that an order, sir?”
“Absolutely.”
“And after?”
I glance at him, and whisper so no one can hear. “I want you to fuck me.”
His breathing hitches. “Yes, sir,” he whispers, and knocks his drink back.
In the visitors’ bunk the door barely shuts before Caiden’s hands are on me; his mouth crashes into mine, abandoning all the restraint he’s been pretending to have all evening.
I shove him back against the wall, kissing him harder, like I can shove the leaving out of him if I try hard enough. “Bed,” he says against my mouth.
“My bossy, detka.” I tease, but I let him push me back away from him anyway. Caiden exhales through his nose, his green eyes flick over me like he’s memorising the lines of my body all over again.
“You’re staring,” he teases.
“I like what I see,” I say, letting my gaze drag down his frame, lingering on the way his T-shirt clings to his chest, and the muscles beneath shifting as he crosses his arms.
My fingers itch. “Are you going to stand there all night, soldier?” That gets him; his lips twitch, and then he’s closing the distance between us in two strides.
His hand shoots out, gripping the back of my neck, pulling me in until our mouths are a breath apart.
“Are you calling the shots now, sir?” he mocks.
I don’t answer, I crash my mouth against his instead. It isn’t the usual kiss — no teeth, battle for dominance, or rough shove against the wall. This one is different. His lips part under mine; his tongue slides against my bottom lip, teasing, tasting.
I groan into it; my hands find his waist, I grip the hem of his shirt and yank it up just enough to feel the heat of his skin beneath.
He lets me, breaking the kiss only long enough to drag the fabric over his head; his abs flex as he tosses it aside, and I trace the lines and dips with my fingertips, watching his breath hitch.
“Fuck,” he mutters when my nails graze his nipple. His hands come up, gripping my wrists, not to stop me, but to guide them higher, over his shoulders. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”
“Shut up,” I breathe out, pushing him back a step, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the bed.
He goes down without resistance, and the mattress dips under his weight.
His thighs spread just enough to make room for me.
I follow, stepping between them; my cock is already hard and aching against my uniform.
His hands land on my hips and his fingers dig in, but he doesn’t pull me closer.
I reach out to unfasten his trousers, pulling them open. His cock is already half-hard, thick and heavy against his dark briefs, and the head peeks out from the waistband. I wrap my fingers around the base, stroking just to watch his stomach tighten and his breath stutter.
“You’re fucking hard for me already, detka,” I murmur, thumbing the damp head.
Caiden’s laugh is low and strained. “Yeah? Then do something about it.”
I drop to my knees, hitting the hard concrete floor with a thud, but I barely feel it.
All I can focus on is the way his thighs tense as I hook my fingers into the waistband of his briefs.
I drag them down and off with his trousers, freeing his cock.
It bobs, fully hard now, the tip already dripping, his veins standing out along the shaft.
I lean in, breathing him in, and press a kiss to the inside of his thigh, just above his knee.
His fingers grip and tangle in my hair. “Ari,” he warns. I ignore him, kissing higher, my lips brushing the soft skin of his balls. His cock jerks, and I finally wrap my lips around the head, swirling my tongue over it.
I don’t rush it. I hollow my cheeks as I slowly take him deeper. His breath hitches, his hips twitch like he wants to fuck up into my mouth, but he’s holding back. “Fuck...just like that...”
His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly, as his thighs tremble.
I take him to the back of my throat, swallowing around the head, and his whole body jerks, a broken sound tears from his chest. “Fucking— God,” he moans.
I pull my lips off his cock, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and grin up at him.
His eyes are half-closed, and his chest is heaving. “Your turn,” I say, standing.
I toe off my boots and kick them aside. I rip my shirt over my head, then hook my thumbs into the waistband of my trousers and boxers, shoving everything down in one go.
My cock’s already leaking; Caiden’s gaze locks onto it, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
“Bossy fuck,” he mutters, but he’s already taken me into his hand, leaning forward, and running his tongue up the thick vein on the underside of my cock.
He licks from my balls to the tip in one long, agonisingly slow stroke. When he wraps his lips around my head it hits me hard enough that I have to brace. My head falls back with a groan, and my fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there.
“Fuck, Caiden—” The words dissolve into a moan as he takes me deep, his throat constricting around me as he swallows. He moves with intention, no hesitation, no mercy.
He sucks hard, and my knees nearly buckle.
My cock hits the back of his throat, and he doesn’t gag or pull away. His eyes water as he looks up at me, holding my gaze, firm, and doesn’t look away. I tighten my grip in his hair and guide him, slow at first, then deeper, faster.
He pulls off, his hands sliding up my thighs, leaving fire in their wake, then he scoots back on the bed, making room. I follow, crawling over him, our bodies aligning chest to chest, cock to cock, and I roll my hips against him.
He grabs my face, kissing me hard this time, his teeth nipping my lower lip before his tongue plunges into my mouth, tasting himself on me. I groan, rocking my hips harder, my cock slides against his, the pre-cum smearing between us.
His hand snakes between our bodies and wraps around my shaft, stroking slowly, his grip twisting at the tip. “You’re dripping too,” he growls against my lips. “Need something, sir?”
I bite his jaw in response, hard enough to make him hiss.
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me.” His laugh is dark and triumphant as he rolls us suddenly, pinning me beneath him.
His weight presses me into the mattress, and his cock drags against mine, slick and hot.
Then his fingers are between my legs, teasing over my hole.
I spread my thighs wider, arching into the touch. “Come on,” I grit out. “Stop teasing.”
“Since when do you not like foreplay?” he teases, pressing the tip of one finger inside, just enough to make me gasp.
“Since I’ve been waiting to do this,” I almost growl, My hands fly to his hips, and my nails dig in. “Now, fuck me.”
“Yes, sir,” he answers. He sees the lube peeking out of my trouser pocket on the floor, and grabs it.
His big hands grip onto my ass, shifting my hips slightly.
I watch him as he leans back and squirts the gel on his cock, then on my hole, and circles it with a finger.
Before I can order him to fuck me again, he’s back on top of me, guiding himself into me.