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The following work of fiction contains graphic homosexual interaction, violence and non-consensual sex. With this work of fiction the authors do not condone in any way any form of intolerance and injustice, e.g. racism, sexual harassment, incitement of hatred, religious hatred nor persecution, xenophobia and misogyny. Neither do the authors through this work of fiction promote violence nor make light of such grave matters as genocide, any taking of human life, murder, execution, rape, torture, persecution of sexual orientation.

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September/October 1991, the Persian Gulf

Dan had been slouched in his seat, deep asleep, ever since they'd boarded the plane for the short flight across the desert from Dubai back to the camp near Kuwait. With his wrist needing another couple of weeks in plaster, duty wasn't upon him yet.

The plane was small, with two-seater rows, and his head had dropped onto Vadim's shoulder. Good hand resting on one muscular thigh, Dan snored softly into Vadim's ear, never waking up beyond a snuffle, even when the stewardess came to check if they needed anything. Life had been too good and cosy the last three weeks, and Mad Dog was as relaxed as a pampered pet.

Vadim leaned his head against Dan's, glancing up only when the stewardess passed. He didn't want to guess what she thought, but like everybody else, she most likely found Dan endearing in this state. He tried to concentrate on The Economist, but rolled it up eventually and stuffed it in the pocket in the seat before him. Still didn't manage to concentrate on printed words. He looked outside the window, seeing nothing, just barren desert. The flight was short, at least that, and Vadim touched Dan's hand when the plane was about to land.

"Whassup?" Dan's sleep-slurred speech turned the vowels and consonants into a parody of his usual accent. "Mmmmm …" Turning his head, he rubbed his face into Vadim's t-shirt, lips curving into a slow grin while his eyes remained closed. "Time for sex, yet?" Murmured.

Vadim ran his fingers over Dan's stubbly cheek. "I wish", he murmured back. "And unless we're talking the airports toilet, sex is out for at least another hour or so."

"Damn." Dan began to stretch, from the lower spine towards his neck, yawning in the process. "That means we're about to land, aye?"

"Aye."

Dan cracked one eye open, looking up at Vadim from his twisted position. "That also means that the question is now 'your hut or mine'?"

As in, living together? Vadim paused, then suddenly smiled. "I don't know. I'm not very attached to mine. And I get less visitors than you do."

Dan grinned, rolling his neck, then sitting up straight to fasten the seatbelt, or rather, to try fasten it one-handed, until Vadim reached over and closed it, by accident brushing Dan's groin.

"Those damn huts are too small for both our stuff. What about that, we use one for sleeping and …," Dan waggled his eyebrows and he produced a toothy grin, "and the other to store our kit? They aren't that far apart and we could throw both mattresses onto the floor to make it comfortable. Bloody beds are too narrow." Clearly, he had thought a lot about this.

Vadim smiled. "I guess the possibility of couples forming was not … thought of when they designed them. Sounds good. We keep the emergency stuff where we are and use mine for storage."

Dan laughed, "Aye, couples. That'll be a shock for some of our favourite 'mates'." He glanced out of the window when the plane went into descend, poking Vadim's ribs with his elbow. "Mitch is going to have a field day, but that stupid son of a bitch won't just have me or you to contend with, on our own. It'll be the two of us, and I can't see the wanker having the guts to confront us. Not even with his bunch of cronies for support."

Vadim paused, and the thought of those bastards seemed an odd weight. But Dan was right, of course. They'd do fine defending themselves. If they were attacked. It might just be rumour, gossip, and cutting remarks. "Well. They already established that I was your bitch."

"And that's a fucking load of bullshit." Dan's face had turned in an instant from relaxed grin to angry snarl, but it could just as easily smooth back into something else. "You're not, and that's that. Just don't give a shit what the arseholes say. Or punch them every time they do say something. Don't know, what's the better approach?"

Vadim smiled, seemingly still relaxed. "Just expect them to say it, that's all. We need to be prepared. It will all be behind our backs, and some likely to our faces. Teaching some a lesson would be good - just … pre-emptive measures. Gain the initiative."

"What you want me to do, walk into the Mess and break Mitch's nose once we get back?" Dan flashed a feral smirk. "Or wait before he actually says it?"

"Well, there's the CO. But I'm sure your friends would swear that Mitch tried to ambush us and we only handed him his ass in self-defence."

Dan was leaning slightly forward, the ground coming closer as the plane was about to land on the desert airfield. "Sounds like fun, if you ask me."

Vadim grinned. "Your idea of fun seems to have expanded somewhat …?"

"Well …" Dan's words were drowned out by the sound of the plane touching ground, "if you had told me just a few days ago that I'd ask you to fuck my arse with your fist and actually enjoyed it, I would have told you you're fucking sick. So, aye, seems my idea of fun has expanded quite a lot recently." Grinning, Dan settled back while the plane slowly rolled towards their parking station.

Vadim tensed and felt himself harden - Dan being so … unabashed and outspoken and them being out in the open. Oh fuck. "Yeah", he murmured, forcing himself to think something else. Just. Dan's reaction to what he'd done, and Dan demanding to try that again, and what it did to him, and to Vadim himself. "True … I used to be the more flexible one, once upon a time."

Dan's eyes remained focussed on Vadim for a long while, before a slow grin spread across is face. "Seems I'm the more flexible one, and bloody literally so. Who'd have though that this …" picking up Vadim's wrist, lifting hand and arm for a brief moment, "fits in something so tight." He wiggled briefly on his seat, as if to emphasise his words.

Vadim swallowed. Dan's teasing wasn't helping, and he leaned over to kiss him, one way to shut him up and also because he needed to. "You bastard", murmuring against the other's lips, while Dan was stunned at the public display of affection - and that in a non-western country to boot.

"Any chance we … can have some more time before going back to camp?" Vadim asked.

"And where would that be?" Dan stayed as close as possible, "got the safe house, you want to carry the luggage there?"

"Yes. Why not. Safe houses have a tradition, don't they?" Same place where he'd abducted Donahue? Probably. Vadim didn't care, as long as it had a bed and was somewhat more protected than the tin hut.

Dan cocked a brow while Vadim opened his seatbelt, ready to leave the plane. "In that case, follow me, but … I guess you know the place."

They grabbed their luggage from the plane, with the taped-up box of gadgets being taken straight to the camp, and they hailed a taxi just a little later. To Vadim, it was a blur and a haze, mainly staying somewhat behind Dan to not give away what he felt and needed, not in this country, and definitely not in his profession.

The drive was short, once again back through twisted streets and small alleys until they reached the building that looked just like it had a month ago, before Dan had sent one jarhead and one Delta to the same place at the same time - not having a clue what had happened in the meanwhile. He was careful with the door, stepping inside after a few security measures, but the place seemed tidy and deserted in the shuttered gloom. Nothing that gave any hints to who had occupied it last, except for … Dan grinned when his gaze fell onto a different blanket than the one he'd had left across the bunk and a stack of water bottles, US make. He turned to Vadim who had followed, then dropped the luggage and locked the door behind him. "So," Dan put his hands behind his back, standing with legs braced and an impetuous grin, "what do you want?"

Vadim dropped his bag, saw Dan assume that PT instructor stance, while hiding the cast from view. It was easy to imagine Dan was fine again and back to 100%. You know what I want, he thought, but realized suddenly it was a game. Dan asked in jest, or part jest. His eyes flicked over to the chair where he'd had that chat with Donahue, then, quicker, back. Remembered being tied up and beaten, remembered wrestling Dan to the ground and having him on top. The memories made things worse, better. "You. I've always wanted you."

Dan's grin widened, bouncing once on the balls of his feet, thrusting out his chest. "The question is, Vadim, how you want me. Right now."

Right now. Just … yeah just two years and a few months ago they would have stumbled to the bed, biting and kissing and groping and rubbing.

Would you like to suck me off, if you had the chance? Does that arouse you?

Vadim closed his eyes and lowered himself, slowly, onto his knees, his hands moved back, crossed in the small of his back, right fist closed, left hand firmly holding the wrist. Knees connected with the ground, eyes still closed, but fluttering, like something inside needed to see. Needed to see Dan. Vadim looked up. "I … want to suck you off."

"Oh shit." Dan breathed out, his voice hitched, instantly husky. The grin had vanished, replaced by something larger, darker, the instant lust like a punch to his guts. "Why do you want to suck my cock?" He took a step closer, slipped without thinking into a part of himself that he'd almost forgotten. "What does it make you feel?" His good hand on the button of his sand coloured jeans, working on the zipper.

You're a masochistic faggot. Degenerate.

Vadim shook his head. "I need … to remember I want this. How much I want this." His face twitched. His own, free will. He could decide to do this. No force. He was offering. To his lover. "It gives me … power. Over you, over … myself, and …" Over the interrogator. Couldn't speak it.

Dan swallowed, heard something in the voice that didn't make immediate sense, would remember it later. "Damn right." Pushing the trousers down, he stood naked, his cock clearly interested. "You take my strength away when you do that. Legs tremble, knees buckle and my thoughts are mush." Raising his hand to touch the blond, short hair, Dan's voice dropped to a murmur, "and that's exactly why I'm a cocksucker. Not many understand the power, and it's fucking arousing to bring another man off."

Vadim looked up, Dan's voice crawled up and down his spine, mostly down, made him tense, that voice - that tone - got him ready to be fucked, just got him in the mind for it. "Used … to do it for the power. Just … the power. It's different now." It's the demons, as the doctor called it. "They haven't taken that away."

"I know." Dan's hand moved from the top of the head along the temple, "I remember." Caressing the cheek, jaw line, then back to the hair once more. His touch became more intense, more demanding. "Hope you remember me, too. From the first ill-fated attempt, when you choked me, to the last deep-throated greed that almost made me cum."

"I do. Fuck, I do." Wanked so often to the one at knife point, imagined so often how you do it. Vadim opened his lips, gathered saliva in a too dry mouth, and moved forward. Just his head, hands still crossed on his back, to take the cock, suck on it to get it fully hard, and once it responded, Vadim pushed his head down hard, nearly forced it down his throat, concentrating only on the technique, denying the torturer any room in this as the heat filled him, the impossibly strength and the thickness that just took his breath.

Dan gasped and let his head fall back into his neck for a long moment. Hips moving forward towards that mouth, while his hand stayed in contact with the head. Not forcing, not holding, just feeling every movement. Connected. Images before his closed eyes, memories, of caves, rooms, and the open. Nothing more potent, though, than the sight of Vadim, when he opened his eyes.

Vadim took him deep, several times, to get loosened up and get used to it again, then pulled back to concentrate on the head, sucking and rubbing it with his tongue, enjoying the taste, the touch communicating something to him, something that Dan's breathing pattern didn't. For once, the interrogator was not in this room, didn't stand between them, and Vadim felt a deep and desperate lust well up that he could allow now. His motions becoming stronger, positively fierce, taking Dan deep and powerful, fucking his own throat, and what discomfort there was, what restriction, only made him hungrier for it.

Dan lost control over his body, staring down at the sight, steadying himself with his hand that had slipped from Vadim's head to his shoulder. Moving in sync, not knowing who was setting the rhythm and who was following it, he felt his lust sharpen, deepen, settling in his guts and in his balls, making his knees unsteady and turning his movements desperate. His breath became as uncoordinated as his whole body, and he groaned, murmuring nonsensical sounds of encouragement and, strangely enough, gratitude. Yet all was forgotten when he felt his balls tighten, drawing up to his body and then suddenly, with a few harsh movements of his hips, he came with a barely suppressed sound, gasping Vadim's name, moaning while he shuddered. Dan's knees almost locked, and he could hardly stand, wanting to just let go and slide onto the goddamned floor.

Vadim reached up to steady Dan by his hips, cleaning him up while swallowing the cum, then slowly releasing Dan to straighten again, placing an arm around him to pull him closer, and hold him. Felt utterly and completely at peace now that no amount of shouts of 'faggot' and derision could touch him. "We … need to report back tonight? Or tomorrow?"

Dan buried his face in the crook of Vadim's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of soap, fresh sweat, and that which was purely, deeply Vadim. "Tonight. Damn."

"Bad planning."

Dan chuckled lightly, felt exhausted in the most pleasant way. His whole body strumming with contentment. Murmuring against skin, "what do you want me to do for you in return?" Tongue 'accidentally' snaking out to trace a vein and lap at salty, heated skin. Remembering the particular spots along Vadim's neck and behind the ear, that used to produce the most remarkable reactions.

Vadim tensed, hands nearly closing, fingers digging into Dan's back, and, yes, he was hard, and his cock twitched. He groaned and pressed Dan closer. "Anything … just … anything. Could … lend that good hand …"

"Or I could lend you my throat." Dan's murmur returned to huskiness, while his good hand was working on the other's trousers. "Up to you. You just say. I'll be your whore." Didn't have a clue how the last word had slipped out, decided after a brief moment that this was far too interesting a new game to bother about the ramifications. At least not just yet.

Vadim looked up, a sudden flash of something in his eyes, the blue intense as lightning just then, and the frown disappeared faster than it had come. He knew absolutely nothing about prostitutes, had never been there, no females to keep his cover, no males. Every conscript had been available, so why pay? But Dan, rendering a service. Dan … submitting to what he wanted. Unconditionally. "Suck me", he murmured, hands sliding back to rest on Dan's shoulders, pushing him down. His face, flushed, and heavy eyelids hiding most of the emotion in his eyes.

"Aye." Dan didn't quite manage to open the zip and pull down the briefs one-handed. "Whatever you want." Looking up, the darkness of his eyes intensified as he worked on the zip while nuzzling cock and balls through the fabric, and Vadim wanted to help him, wanted to make it easy and get to the good part - when he suddenly realized this was already the good part. A great part. Excellent part.

"How do you want me to suck you." Mouthing the hard contours while pushing the trousers down, "Sir." Added, out of nowhere.

Vadim's stomach muscles tightened, every muscle in his body electrified at that word. Sir. The epitome of power. Part of him wanted to tie Dan up and throw him on the bed only to fuck him, hard and fierce, but he couldn't resist the lips. The eyes, that dark glance that invited and lured and seemed mostly waiting for something. "Deep", he said, voice rough. "And … fast." No patience, not with these stakes.

"Sir, yes, Sir." Uttered sharply, as if he were still in the Forces, Dan nodded, managed to pull the briefs down and free the cock, pressing his face against it, revelling in the hard smoothness. The game mixed-up. Hustler, soldier, who the fuck cared. As long as he was right there, on his knees, about to lick and taste that cock and feel once again the heady power of the powerless.

He'd meant to take his time, but he had his order and there was no preliminary niceness, no licking of the head and shaft, lapping at precum, toying with the sensitive opening. Just his lips, closing around the swollen tip, and his head, moving down, his throat, opening. Impossible to deep throat in the pace he was setting himself, but his good hand closed tightly around Vadim's cock, stroked with the same rhythm as his head and the suction was hard and unforgiving. Fucking himself fiercely.

Vadim couldn't help it, worse, didn't want to help it, instead placed both hands on Dan's head, against the back of it, knew how much he could ask and at the same time knew Dan would deal with it, and that he wouldn't last long, anyway, not at that speed, not with Dan doing this. He thrust forward, forcing Dan deeper, taking control, just like that, feeling everything inside tighten as the pressure came down harder, fucking Dan in hard, not very controlled thrusts, just. A few. More, and went rigid, came hard, while Dan was gagging around the intrusion. Vadim shuddering and sweating, legs weakened as he heard himself pant and groan like a horrible weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Dan didn't tense, though, not after the first reflex. Did the opposite instead, just let go. Strange, to simply let go. Relaxing with that cock down his throat, and the urge to cough and worse, and yet his body went slack and his eyes closed. Just waiting. Taking. Waiting until he could swallow again. Could breathe.

Vadim pulled back, not completely out, loved Dan's heat and wetness, instead ran his hand down one cheek while Dan drew in deep breaths through his nose. Thumb tracing the line of the upper lip that was still semi-pursed against his cock, fingers cupping the chin, stubble and sweat against his hand, and it hurt to love so much.

Dan's eyes opened, and he blinked once, twice. Didn't move anything else, just stayed right there and then, arms slack at his sides, the cock softening in his mouth. Right where it belonged. Trusting, if Vadim was going to shove anything else down his throat, he'd take that, too. Even a muzzle. Or a blade.

Vadim gave him a smile, calm now, relaxed, at peace, happy, all tension gone, all fear gone, all darkness gone. "I liked that thought. Both. The … hooker. The … 'sir'."

Dan cleared his throat as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. A missed drop, but he still licked his hand, making Vadim's eyes widen a touch. "I had a feeling you did." A slow grin began to spread across Dan's face. "No idea where they came from, but I think they will be back."

Back? A game. Dan liked his games, and, thought Vadim, so do I. "Interesting." Lame answer, but the blood still hadn't returned to his brain. Vadim pulled back, stowed his cock away, could still feel Dan. Was about to step away to find something to drink, but extended a hand. "Come."

Dan's fingers closed around Vadim's hand and he let himself be pulled up and back onto his feet. "Are you telling me now how good it was for you, asking me if it was good for me and declaring that I'm the one, the only one and you want to make an honourable man of me?" His grin turned into a full-blown smirk.

Vadim grinned. "You think the CO has the legal powers to marry us? Like a ship's captain?"

Dan laughed, deep-bellied, except that he his throat tickled. "We've already been through that, and you've decided I look shit in a dress, so let's forget about that one."

Vadim glanced around, then saw bottles of water stand near the bed. Didn't know the brand, which was strange, come to think of it. He knew all the possible brands of water that were drunk in the merc camp, so … these were not drunk in the merc camp. Good work, Sherlock. He stepped over, picked one up, checked the cap for tampering, then unscrewed it. "That jarhead water?"

Dan took a glance and nodded. "Seems so." Holding his hand out, impatiently waiting for Vadim to finish drinking. "Right now I'm thankful for it having been left here." He looked at Vadim, who lowered the bottle, straight on, not a flicker of his eye and not a twitch in his expression. Jarhead. Matt. Donahue. Delta.

Vadim met the gaze. Donahue. His water. The place where he and Dan met. He handed the bottle over and wiped his lips, watching Dan. That expression was too schooled, too controlled. Dan was hiding something, protecting. From him, and against him. The closest thing they could get to hostile. Or was it? He couldn't trust his judgement. Dan might be joking … only that he didn't joke like that. "Well." Didn't know what else to say and looked away first. He didn't win staring competitions any more. That particular bone in his body appeared to have been broken, no, pulverized.

Dan took the water and lifted it straight to his lips. Drinking in long, thirsty draughts that rolled over his tongue, down his throat, filling his stomach. The water was lukewarm, but the shady room had kept the worst off it. Finishing, he set the bottle down on the chair beside him, only now realising his trousers were still pooling around his ankles, which made him grin and the atmosphere changed, all tension dissipated. "You want to stay here for a while before heading into camp, or tackle the bull straight by its horns?"

"Wouldn't mind stretching my legs", murmured Vadim, and moved towards the bed. Dan never managed to lie with a smile. These were 100% gold. "Just rest up a few minutes." Unlacing the boots, then pulling them off, he pondered what the Donahue thing meant. What it actually meant, not what it was. He looked up and gave a smile. "Your American and French buddies can wait five more minutes for their presents, aye?"

"Shit," Dan sat down with his bare arse on the bed. "You're saying something here. I didn't bring any prezzies, now did I?" Looking inconsolable for a moment, until he had Vadim's full attention and only then did he break into a grin. "Well, not much anyway."

Vadim shook his head, grinning. "I thought you did." Just like Dan to bring … whatever presents to soldiers that needed a change to the same old. Just like in Afghanistan, leaving full bergans behind. This time, it would be Jean and Donahue that received the gifts.

Bending down to undo his bootlaces, Dan glanced sideways, "besides, I'd take a Russkie any day over anyone else. You did get that, didn't you? Roof top, Thailand, embassy and all, eh?"

"Yes. You just can't kick the habit of Slavs …" Vadim moved, patting the mattress next to him. Didn't care what else Dan had done in this room. It was safe, and quiet, and he ignored the fact that Jean, strictly speaking, was a Russkie too. Didn't matter. Not for the next five minutes. Or ten.

Shuffling over, Dan lifted his legs, fiddling with the laces of his boots in that awkward position. "Morose, hm?"

"Always." Vadim stretched to reach the laces, but pulling the boots off Dan's feet proved impossible from that position, so he got up and pulled from the other side, setting the boots down and studying Dan there, on the bed, his, and soon again a mercenary and not a bored tourist. Civilian shoes were less difficult to take off, he reflected.

He got on the bed again, close to Dan, and held him with one arm, tight, feeling him breathe and the heart beat, and thought the whole soldiering business was such as waste of time.

* * * * * * *

Two hours later and a quick nap in between, they were in a rickety taxi on their way to camp. Dan had his old bergan strapped to his back, one bag in his good hand, Vadim carrying the rest of their luggage. They got out of the car after a quick exchange with the driver, not even bothering to haggle the price, then striding towards the gates.

"Home sweet home, right?" Dan flashed a grin at Vadim.

Vadim squinted his eyes against the low sun and knew the beast would swallow him up again. 'Home' was no place. Not here, not anywhere. Dan would have to do, like before the prison, but even then, there had been a family. This place wasn't home, this was merely where he slept after work. "At least the pay's good."

"Aye, and that means I can take you to New Zealand, show you the farm I bought, and then have it all done up for our retirement." Dan's lips curved into a cocky grin, seemingly not being able to imagine such a thing as retiring from active duty. Forty-two, a knackered body, but he kept beating it into submission.

Vadim smiled and shook his head. The farm. A far distant place on the other end of the world, and both of them retired old pensioners sitting on a porch, watching sheep? Actually, that did sound nice. "You'll have to take me there", he murmured.

"Next R&R, if it works out. My treat." The guards opened the gate after Dan's and Vadim's ID passes were shoved under their noses, and Dan kept walking, straight towards the guard house, to sign in with the duty officer. Craning his head back at Vadim, "I'm just thinking about the poor bastards who do this as their regular army job. They earn how many times less than we do?"

"Substantially." Vadim had to remind himself not to touch Dan, had to remind himself to stay away and was still standing close as he signed in as well, would have to remember no kissing, no touching. He glanced towards the camp. Mitch would certainly raise the issue - but then, part of him was looking forward to fighting him again. "Do we move the kit right away?"

"What time is it?" Dan turned half-way to face Vadim, the shades back over his eyes after a brief stint of identification. He stood close, one booted foot between Vadim's legs, and a hand brushing along one thigh as he turned back to the guard who'd said something. "What?"

"I said tea time, mate." The soldier pointed to the wall clock behind him, a cheap plastic affair. "Scran's up in a second."

Turning once more to Vadim, Dan grinned. "Sounds good to me. Let's dump our stuff in my hut and catch some food. Starving again. We can pick up the big parcels from the mail station afterwards."

Vadim nodded, and kept himself from placing a flat hand between Dan's pecs to push him away. Close. Whatever would happen in this desert, Dan was close. "Mail. Right." Mail was hardly worthwhile - sometimes legal letters and tax stuff from Her Majesty's Bureaucracy. No more letters from a dutiful wife. "Started any pen pal friendships while you were bored?"

"Bored? When?" Dan smirked, "and no, no pen pals, but I had parcels delivered here. Already forgotten? My new CD player and the other goodies."

"Oh, your shopping. You entirely manly male shopping, that is." Finding some of the lightness of Dubai, and holding onto it. Ignoring everything else, most of all the feeling he didn't belong here.

"Exactly, that one." Dan laughed. The manly shopping. Techno gadgets." He winked behind the shades, only the quirk of one brow and the twisting of the scar in his face visible.

They headed deeper into camp, where two teams had just arrived, covered in red dust, and heading towards the armoury to hand in the weapons. Vadim thought for a moment they looked like mythical creatures, more animals than men. Like those soldiers in myth, grown from dragon's teeth. Dragon spawn. He didn't look closer, merely trotted towards Dan's hut.

Walking slower for a moment, checking out the men, Dan tried to find a familiar face amongst them. He had to catch up with Vadim a second later. "Wondering yet what the scran assassin has cooked this time? I already miss the buffet in Thailand."

"Something with enough fat, sodium, and cholesterol to get even my heart into a nervous stutter, no doubt." The salt made sense, though, with the amounts they sweated out. "Good I start patrol duty tomorrow. That way I can get rid of the calories."

"Bugger, and I'm still off for at least another couple of weeks." Dan gave his hips a quick twist until they collided with Vadim's. "Guess that means I'll turn into a fat bastard in the meantime." He grinned, "oh, and better get the wrist checked out with the medic, don't I?"

"The way you treat that bandage, no doubt."

One dusty sweaty face lit up in the group of men while Dan was talking, and Jean briefly raised his rifle to acknowledge him, gesturing that they'd talk later. Noticing no doubt how Dan and Vadim were far closer now. A roguish grin, and Jean gave a wink.

"Hey!" Dan called over, "missed me, Princess?" Laughing his head off at the reaction, when Jean flipped the bird and called back: "Damn, we got off the wrong road. This must be the magic kingdom, I just saw a fairy."

"Ha ha ha!" Dan shouted across, wiggling his hips in an exaggerated fashion and bumping into Vadim a few times, who seemed just plain bewildered. "You're just dried up and missing me, wanker."

Jean's crew, tired and dusty, were laughing and joking amongst themselves and Jean gave Dan a nod, another grin and an insulting gesture. Dan was still laughing as he waved the Frenchman off.

They had almost reached the hut and Dan checked out Vadim, who glanced back over his shoulder, brow dark, as if he was unable to read Jean's comment, his joke, or the whole interaction.

"Hope you won't regret having me on the same mattress every night." Dan suddenly flashed a grin.

"No. Will you?" Vadim couldn't help but ask, and felt stupid as his voice seemed heavier than he'd wanted.

"Why?" Throwing his right shoulder against the door, which had got stuck from the constant change from heat to cold, Dan stumbled inside with a bright grin. "I'm the one who manages to sleep curled around you, at 48 plus degrees, while you are turning into a big puddle of sweat. I sure as fuck won't regret anything."

"It gets colder at night. Then you are clearly welcome. And … even in the heat." He'd regret that, Vadim knew, but the little discomfort was worth it. Maybe Dan's sleeping brain just needed the connection. Like his own sleeping brain always fucked him up.

Dan waited until Vadim had stepped into the gloom, then kicked the door shut, grabbed the other's shirt into his fist and yanked him close. All in one fluid motion that Vadim didn't resist at all. "I told you, my Russkie, I won't ever be without you again." Murmured, lips so close they almost touched until Dan crossed even that minimal distance and pulled him into a kiss.

Vadim's hands connected with Dan's back, pulling him closer, digging into his flesh as his lips opened and the hunger was back like there had been no quick release just a couple hours ago. It would be difficult to turn up for duty, Vadim thought with humour, pulling away just to murmur, "No regrets. Not ever."

"Good." Dan's shades hung at a precarious angle. "Just a bit of a problem now." His hands still on Vadim's hips, the good one digging into muscles as he rubbed his groin once against the other's to emphasise his unspoken point. "Still, I'm starving, guess I got to think of icebergs and bomb proof hairdos."

Vadim managed to pull away, his mind somewhere completely different, and yes thinking something else would be good now, otherwise he'd feed Dan a couple of snack bars and not let him out of the hut. He pushed the bag to the side with his foot. "Let's get you some food, then. And maybe … call it an early night tonight?"

"Definitely." Dan lifted his shades and stared down at his all too prominent cock. "Damn." Muttered, "down, boy, down!" To no avail, even when he added a frustrated "woof!" He sighed, "can't be helped, I'm starving, and it's not that the guys haven't seen a hard-on before." Grinning from one ear to another, "and if I'm really lucky they think it's a greeting for them."

* * * * * * *

Around lunchtime the next day, Dan was walking across the compound, carrying a bag in his good hand, while whistling. Back in the customary shades, t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, he ignored any stare that had potentially grown nastier since they've returned - and returned together, clearly a couple. Nodding with a grin to those who couldn't give a shit either way.

"Hey!" Hollering before he even got close to Jean's hut, "Princess!" Smirking at the odd turn of head and incongruous gape from some of the passers-by.

A little later, the door opened and Jean was leaning against the door frame, white dusty wifebeater clinging to his upper body, camo trousers riding low on his abs, displaying an expanse of shining skin with the faint glory trail towards his belly button which was just barely covered by the shirt. "Ah. Mr Honeymoon is paying a visit."

Dan's eyes were going ostentatiously from head to toe and back again, grin blooming into a fully-blown smirk. "Aye, and I thought I'd better deliver the favours to the wedding guests, aye?" Raising his bag he waved it about. He didn't even try to hide the reaction in his shorts to the sight of that French motherfucker.

Jean moved to the side only enough to allow Dan to squeeze in, allowing him to pass by getting very close, glancing downwards. Mildly surprised, but still on top of the game. "Wedding guests? I want cake, then. And maids of honour to … dishonour."

"Fat chance, Frenchie. Unless you like to fuck the nice arse of a gentleman of honour." Grinning ferally, Dan slipped past and into the hut, adding when the door closed behind him, "wait, as far as I remember you do like fucking a nice arse."

"Yeah, but only if it's extra special nice." Jean gave a laugh and clapped Dan on the shoulder. "You look well rested."

"Easy to do after two weeks in Thai heaven and one in Dubai luxury." Dan held the bag out to the other. "Here. And happy birthday to you, too."

"Awww, you shouldn't have." Jean took the bag, glancing at Dan to gauge what might be in it - like a rattlesnake or other practical joke, then opened it.

Inside, packets and CDs, a wrapped up Sony Discman, a round black box with cables, the CDs were The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Steppenwolf, and some of the other classics. Jean glanced up, grinning. "You got my birthday date wrong, but that's fine. Let's make it Christmas today."

"Aye," Dan grinned, "figured you needed an edumacation in good music taste."

"Careful … the Legion has a long and rich musical tradition." Jean pulled out a final box with a beautiful oriental pattern, which contained a silk scarf with deep, rich colours, and Jean raised an eyebrow. "Aw, you do love me after all. It wasn't just a thing for one night."

"Har, har, har." Dan almost blew a raspberry. "Very funny, Frenchie. That's for your lady, thought she might appreciate something from Dubai." Sitting down on the bed, Dan pushed the shades into his hair before leaning back. "Don't get your hopes up, Princess, I might bring you prezzies, and might kiss you awake, but I sure as fuck won't sweep you up into my arms and take you away on my mighty steed." He laughed, adding, "unless it's for a shag of course."

Jean glanced towards the door. "I guess the other knight in black armour might disagree about any sweeping up stuff going on here, eh?" He put the scarf back into the box and set it on the table to the side.

Dan shrugged, "That's not up for discussion. I love him, that's that, but you think I am going back to the monogamy of Afghanistan? I never bloody shagged anyone except Vadim, until I got here. No fucking way I go back to that. Wouldn't be fair on my harem, right?" Flashing a smirk, "Love's one thing, and everything else is another." Stretching put his long legs, he dropped the plastered hand across his lap. "Or don't you agree?"

Jean's eyes dropped, continuing to dip lower as he grinned. "Okay, fair enough …" He moved closer and placed a hand on Dan's chest. "Can't say I disagree. Can't say I'm not fucking needy after three weeks with just Mrs Thumb and her four daughters …"

"What, you didn't find yourself another fuck-toy?" The mock-shock brought an evil gleam to Dan's dark eyes. "And here I was, thinking that the whole camp was lying down in front of your feet, squealing 'take me! Take me!'" He managed simultaneously to grin, snort, pull the t-shirt up to his throat and the waistband of his shorts down as much as they would go, revealing the line of dark hair.

Jean moved nearer, his chest hovering close to Dan's, supporting himself on one arm as the other went up to pull the shirt off, briefly lowering his head. "As a point of fact, nope, no such offers. But I hardly hang 'round the Americans, might have been luckier scoring there, eh?" Dipping his head low to kiss the exposed flesh, while Dan chuckled in the back of his throat.

Jean flicked his tongue across and into Dan's belly button. "I guess there were a few holes left unstuffed while you were gone …"

"You're pretty one-track in your thinking, mate." Dan's good hand rested on the bent neck, making its way against the growth into the short hair, stroking upwards. "It's not all about fucking …"

"Sometimes it's about being fucked?" Jean looked up, grinning, bared his teeth and traced the ridge of one of the scars, then the pattern of sixpack that became visible.

"Ha, ha, tosser," Dan rolled his eyes, laughing breathlessly at the touch of lips and teeth. "Here I was, thinking a Frenchman like you knew all about l'amour. Sucking, stroking, rubbing, all that shit." His hand slipped beneath Jean's white vest, tracing down heat-damp skin as far as he could reach. "I happen to like a male body, and whatever can be done with it."

Jean came up to meet Dan in a kiss, playful, but with heat and determination, almost straddling him now. "Here …" he murmured, breathless, "is a male body, so … what do you … want to do with it, huh?" Kissing again with lips and teeth open, tongue following as he pressed in, enjoying the building passion and heat and not stopping once to think.

"Well …" Dan breathed out, "you could always return the favour." Tugging on fabric to get the top off Jean's body. Dan managed to grin from ear to ear while never completely stopping the kiss.

Jean shed the vest, tossing it to the side without looking. "Which favour?" Sucking on Dan's lower lip now, pressing up against him, skin smelling of soap and sweat and dust.

Dan's eyes closed for a moment, as he fought, then lost, and let go of the groan that had been building up in his chest. "Your arse …." A man had to try, no matter how well he knew the answer. He'd still try and try again, while grinning like a fool. Hand roaming across Jean's back to rest on the powerful neck, relishing sweat, strength and skin beneath his fingers.

Jean laughed. "I'm curious, but not that curious ..."

"OK." Dan smiled and shrugged one-sided while Jean swallowed, debating, maybe, for a moment. Horny too, but at the same thing, that would make him gay, right? "You been thinking about my ass?"

Dan's laughter hitched, while his fingers tightened into Jean's neck muscles. "I think about everyone's arse, if they are worth thinking about. I'm a bloke, for fuck's sake. I think about sex 24/7." Lifting his hips off the bed to grind against Jean, then pulling him down, close to his lips once more. "And you, Frenchie …" murmured, while kissing, "have a particularly nice arse."

Jean was on top, grinding into Dan, kissing deeply, lust still growing. "I'm flattered, but trust me, if I ever want to know what it's like getting fucked, I'll ask you to do it, but … just … doesn't really do it for me, okay?"

Dan grinned, shook his head when Jean did seem sorry, and seemed to want to make up for it by opening Dan's trousers, sliding them down, helping him to shed them fully.

"Don't be stupid." Dan's interest was obvious, but then he had started to be interested back when Jean had opened the door. "I don't care. I get enough arse in my life anyway. Can't complain." Kicking the shorts into a corner, he grinned. "Just give me your speciality."

Jean paused, wondering, maybe, about Dan and Vadim, then grinned at him. "Yeah." He stripped the shirt off Dan, kissing his chest and sides, slowly moving up over Dan's throat and jaw, chin to his lips, hands roaming as he did, taking hold of Dan's cock like it was his own, kissing him deeply and hungrily while beginning to pump him.

Moaning into Jean's mouth, Dan lost himself within heartbeats. Just like every single time he kissed that wannabe French motherfucker with his Russian face and Russian eyes and ... nothing otherwise Russian about him. Nothing like Vadim. Nothing … and then Dan ceased to think. Hips pushing towards the hand, his own digging hard into Jean's neck muscles, pushing and pulling. Close, closer and more, as always drowning in that goddamned skill of lips and teeth.

"You sexy bastard", murmured Jean between kisses, pressing against Dan's leg, knowing he'd come into his pants. Free hand holding Dan close, who was losing control, rapidly, as suddenly somebody banged against the door.

"Jean, you in there?"

"Merde!" hissed Jean, jumping off Dan as if stung by a scorpion. "What the fuck do you want?" Called out.

"What?" Dan croaked. Lips swollen, body in the dumbfuck state of arousal.

"I wanted to talk about the route tomorrow." The voice behind the door shouted.

Jean closed his eyes. "Putain", he murmured, already getting up, fishing for the shirt.

"You can't be fucking serious!" Dan groaned, desperate, yet already looking around for his shorts. What the fuck was he going to do with that hard-on of his?

Jean shrugged, cast an apologetic glance to Dan, who was cursing under his breath while getting to his feet and towards his shorts. Bringing out a stream of the most colourful expletives he could find, in every language that came to his mind, including Pushtu and Russian.

"We should talk through the route and the map. I'm going to brief the boys, so …" The disembodied voice called out once more.

"Yeah, it's important, it's about the job. Get ya." Jean slid the shirt down, got his trousers back in order, then walked towards the door while Dan just about managed to get into his shorts and close them haphazardly. The t-shirt was irretrievably lost. Couldn't be helped.

Jean glanced at him, and Dan nodded before scooting back onto the bed, snatching his shades and pushing them onto his nose. Flip-flops somewhere, t-shirt hopefully out of sight, in nothing but those goddamned shorts.

"Sorry. Come on in." Jean called out, opening the door. That very moment Dan spotted a deck of cards, hastily went for it, and leaned over the table, hiding his raging arousal by dishing out cards.

He'd kill that motherfucker. Tomorrow.

The other merc came through the door and Jean kept in his back, or half covered by the door, hiding the evidence nonchalantly, as if he'd never done anything else.

"Thanks, Jean. You lucky bastard are off tomorrow, but after what happened last week, I want to be one hundred percent sure."

"Sure, no problem. Only … didn't want to turn my back on Mad Dog. The bastard's cheating at cards."

"Aye, Frenchie!" Dan called out, even managed to laugh, while randomly dishing out cards.

Jean brought out a map and unfolded it on the table, explaining the route and the possible problems, again. Apparently, the route had changed after an attack, and people were generally more on edge than normal. Jean kept close to the other, hiding behind the man's body, who seemed at ease with that closeness, while Jeans spelled out the road. His finger tracing the line on the map and speaking, monotonous, precise, every now and then clasping the other's shoulder and cracking a stupid joke. Mates.

"Thanks man, that's helpful."

"Take the map, and bring back Pascal in one piece … I'd miss my sweetheart too much." More jokes, promises of bringing back the whole team alive, and Jean saw him out the door, closing it firmly and locking it as soon as the guy was out. "Oh fuck."

"Well." Dan pulled his lips from his teeth, baring both rows, while stretching his arms to the side, letting muscles slide along skin. "That was fun."

"No. Shit. Yes. Fuck." Jean shook his head. "Fuck. Killed the mood."

"Wouldn't say so." Dan started to grin, while slowly pushing the shades off his eyes, perching them on the top of his wild hair. "You missed a whole show, here. All that touchy-feely shit going on between you two? Didn't need much imagination to get the porn rolling in my head." Dan patted the front of his shorts. "Only thanks to my steely determination I managed to keep the boy down. The show would have been even better with booze."

Jean laughed. "What? Me and him? That was … completely innocent. Hey, I'm not gay. Seriously."

"No, of course, not, mate. You're as straight as fuck, your lady is proof to that." Pointing leisurely at one of the pics on Jean's wall, Dan smirked, but there was nothing malicious about that grin.

"Yes. She is." Jean shook his head. "Pervert. But … booze I have. I'm off tomorrow, he's taking over my patrol." He nodded towards one of his chests. "There. Some red, and some whisky."

"Whisky." Dan didn't even think before deciding. "Where the fuck did you get the stuff from? Not quite legal here, aye?"

"Nope. I have friends in high places, and they don't always check everything. Plus, what I do in my off time is my own business, and none of theirs. Fuck them." Jean went digging around the chest, found the whisky, glancing with regret at the wine. "Wrong temperature. Completely wrong temperature. Shit."

"And what does that mean? You not even bothering to drink it? Booze is booze, mate."

"It's wine." Jean rolled his eyes. "Okay. Yeah, I'll drink it."

Grinning, Dan threw the cards onto the table, then shuffling them into a lose pack. Glancing up from a haphazard fringe of dark hair and entangled shades. "Think it's safe yet to get our kit off again? Booze is so much better naked."

"Strip poker, huh?" Jean nodded towards the cards.

"You want to play?" Dan laughed, "I'm game, but I warn you, I'm damn good, with my skills honed by a very special lady. You'd get naked anyway, so there's no challenge."

Jean laughed. "No need to draw it out, then …?" He pulled his shirt free again and dropped it on the floor, then opened his fly, pushing his trousers down, half-interested, mostly because of the situation. "I won't dance, you know."

"Dance?" Dan laughed at the mental image. "Why the fuck should you dance?"

"Stripping. You know. Pole dancing. Don't gays have bars where guys strip and do dirty things on a pole or on a lap?"

"What the fuck do I know?" Dan shrugged. "Never been to anything like that."

"No?" Jean sounded incredulous.

"No." Extracting the shades from the mess of his hair, Dan shrugged before chucking them to the side, then once again getting out of his shorts. "Got any mugs, or is it drinking straight out of the bottle?" Dan reached for the whisky as Jean found two mugs.

"Drinking wine like this is a crime. Take it from a Frenchman, this is … a crime."

"I don't mind. I'll sure as fuck get into the mood again."

Jean laughed. "I bet you will." He poured drinks, starting with whisky himself, clearly trying to get drunk quickly as he gulped it down in a few deep swallows.

"Hey, you got an agenda, or what? If I keep up with you, I'll be piss drunk in fifteen minutes." Grinning, Dan downed his first liberal shot. "Or are you waiting for me to take advantage of you so that you can claim later it wasn't because you wanted to do it but because you were pissed?"

Jean quirked an eyebrow over the rim of the mug. "You think I'm capable of such a nefarious lie?" He moved closer, grinning, before Dan could utter any piss-taking remarks. "You think I'd claim I kissed …" his lips touching Dan's, moving closer, "caressed …" hands running over Dan's heated skin, "and stroked …" hand rubbing the insides of Dan's leg, fingers splayed, "by accident?"

"Aye." Dan's grin was on full beam. "I think you are capable of a hell of a lot." Emptying the mug in one go, the whisky was running down his throat like liquid fire. He just about managed not to cough while clinking the empty mug against Jean's. "But I'm not complaining."

Jean downed the rest of the whisky, flushing slightly, and poured more. Feeling the alcohol already, after the enforced sobriety. Half sitting on Dan, his lips again on Dan's chest, only pausing to take another swallow of the alcohol. "Hey, never did anything that was bad for you, or did I?" Pushing Dan's legs apart, which opened readily, his lips had arrived at the place where leg met torso, close to Dan's cock, but not touching. Just biting the inner thigh playfully.

"That …" Dan gasped out, "depends on what you define as 'good'." His cock was definitely convinced that this was very, very good, especially the way those lips kept moving South. Not that Jean could get any further South, perhaps a little more North would be perfect, and a bit more … he drew in a deep breath while the fingers of his plastered hand carded through the short blond hair. So much like ... and yet not … and all was different. No rules and not giving a damn about what the fuck was going to happen next. "I need more booze." He managed to get out after a series of particularly promising nips and bites of the far too sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.

Jean grinned and reached over to pour more whisky, adding some to his own mug, and taking another deep swallow, fingers sliding down Dan's dam and towards his ass. "God, I fucking loved fucking your ass", he suddenly said, grinning, changing sides to nip the other thigh, nose brushing past Dan's cock by accident.

Dan's cock jumped towards Jean's face at those words, barely missing. Downing all of the whisky in one go, he coughed, which rapidly morphed into several noisy breaths as the lips and teeth kept doing their work while his legs kept opening further to allow better access. "I can … imagine. I …" but he shut up, dropped the empty mug on the bed and his good hand joined the other, stroking Jean's neck and temple, jaw line and cheek.

Jean grinned, baring teeth as he pulled at Dan's flesh. "You what?" Visibly enjoying the touch, biting firmer until it stung, then lapping the same reddened skin with his tongue, as if soothing it. Hand moving to Dan's cock, circling it, as he moved a little closer to the centre. Cock in full view, and he glanced up to Dan, almost nervous. "Shit", he murmured.

"S'okay." Dan slurred the words together in a husky mumble. The fingers of his good hand spread across Jean's neck, up the back of his skull. Even though he didn't mean to, light pressure was guiding, pointing the way. "Don't have to." Murmured, but fuck, he'd be ready to pray to any god, Allah, Jehovah, Baby Jesus, who the fuck ever, if only Jean would. He was so hard and horny, he'd offer his soul to the devil, if the old codger didn't already own it. "S'okay …"

Jean swallowed audibly, the pressure in his neck reassuring, tender and gentle, and clearer than a thousand words, as clear as Solange's helpless whimpers or her squirming on the bed. Only that Dan was by no means Solange. Wrong equipment. Right equipment. Oh fuck. The taste was salty, almost smoky, a strong taste, but clean, healthy, and he opened his lips and slipped the head in. Hand holding the cock, twitching flesh, veins thundering under his fingers, or his own pulse. He forced his tongue to extend, probe the thick piece of flesh that was entering his mouth, lick it, strange, silky, hot, his eyes fixed on Dan's taut stomach, the terrible groves of scars, survival written all over that body.

Dan's groans were everything but controlled. Jean. Straight Jean. Mate Jean. Friend Jean. Comrade Jean. Straight-as-yeah-hell-fuck Jean. His hips twitched, but he stilled himself, while he never increased the pressure on the neck, but never diminished it either. Just there. Shuddering with lust and staring down at the sight of the utterly focussed way his cock was being tasted, licked, and touched.

Jean took another inch, felt that was as far as he could go, put pressure on his lips, then remembered his hand, slowly pumping Dan.

"Shit, I …" Dan let out incoherent sounds, while his thighs tensed until he could feel the strain down to his toes. "I … let you … tell … won't cum … know …"

Jean glanced up at the words, seemingly putting the meaning together very slowly, then thought he just couldn't look at Dan, not while … doing this, and stared straight at Dan's stomach, mind blanking as he tried to remember what to do now. Breathed in through his nose and sucked on the flesh, feeling Dan respond, moved up with resistance, and licked across the head, more taste. So that was precum, he thought, mind blurred by what he did, while the alcohol was truly nothing but an excuse. He almost pulled off, then pressed his lips firmer together and went down again, hand pumping faster than his mouth as he remembered, and back up again, the motion less stiff now, coming from his neck and shoulders.

Dan's thighs tensed even more. Rock solid muscle under deeply tanned skin, except for the flesh itself that Jean was sucking and stroking. The sight was killing him, and he didn't have a clue why this man, of all men who'd sucked him off, was blowing his mind, not just his cock. Perhaps the unexpected, or the forbidden, or … and then Jean moved down again, with slightly more speed and pressure this time, as if he really meant it and Dan could do nothing but groan and shudder. Heart racing, breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps, struggling for control, not to push down on the head. "Oh shit … not long …"

Jean pulled back again, understanding suddenly what he did, understood why he did it, and moved with some force, almost jerking back. Sucking on the head, more taste, feeling Dan tense and wrestle the emotion, or rather taking it, riding it, and he thought fuck, he really likes this, really, really enjoys this, and there was an odd tenderness that made him forget this fucking awkward thing, this wanting and not wanting, this offering for something else. Then took him deeper again, careful to not go too deep, instead working with his tongue and neck, finding a strange kind of way to do it, one that seemed alright, less weird, while his hand kept pumping him, and the other hand dug into Dan's thigh, steadying himself.

Dan's leg muscles so tense, he was almost on the balls of his foot, while his abs kept contracting. Wanting to hold Jean's head, dig into the neck, push him down, but did nothing like that. Good hand forming into a tight fist instead, eyes closed at last. Too much onslaught onto his senses, despite the unskilled attempt, but it wasn't about skills nor experience. It was the goddamned fact that it was Jean, and that he did this. His eyes opened before it got all too much and he felt his balls draw up, abs contracting helplessly, while the orgasm built up like a geyser, pressure bursting to the surface. His plastered hand pushed clumsily at Jean's face, pushing away despite wanting to force that throat down deeper to take him in all the way. "Now." Forced out, his good fist slamming into his own thigh.

Jean pulled back, face flushed, hand still pumping as Dan came, splattering cum across that belly and thighs and he felt it hot against his shoulder, and the side of his throat and run over his hand. He grinned, meeting Dan's gaze, who was staring at him with inscrutable dark eyes, while Jean's own betrayed emotions, fondness, and tenderness and more. He released Dan, who fell back on the bed like a boneless weight. Jean stood, reaching for his shirt to clean up, saying nothing.

Dan started to smile, didn't say anything either, until the smile began to morph into a grin. "Thank you." Clearing his throat and wetting suddenly dry lips.

"Hey, just returning a favour." Jean wiped his shirt over his neck and across his chest. "And I did not learn that in the Legion. Or in the Soviet Army. Seriously."

Dan was grinning like a fool. "You sure about that? Compared to my first blow job this was paradise. Mine was utter crap, couldn't even get him off."

"Absolutely sure." Jean grinned and came closer again, one hand on Dan's shoulder as he leaned in to kiss. "Well, you get me off fine, so I thought I'd make an effort. Solange is really good, and you are good, and, well, seems pretty complicated to me… doing several things at once, you know?"

"Shut up." Dan murmured, simultaneously teasing and awfully gentle. Surprised when Jean really did shut up. "You were doing just fine, Frenchie, and you never need to pay me back for anything, aye?"

"I know, but …"

Dan shut Jean up with a kiss this time, using his hand on the neck and a fair amount of pressure.

Jean pressed in, wanting the kiss, needing it worse than any other touch, desire and lust coming in hard and bad and worse, and goddamned motherfucking right. He took hold of Dan's good hand and led it down over his body, to his cock, all the time kissing him like his life depended on it. "Want you … fucking … need … want … must have", he said, almost comical as there was no fierceness, only odd tenderness that was more begging, more inviting than any aggression. Playful, still, and sensuous with no holds barred.

Dan was shaken to the core by those words. Couldn't quite grasp their meaning but sensed it, and some strange tenderness welled up. An odd soft spot, where he didn't think he should have one. Not for anyone other than Vadim, and perhaps the Baroness, and otherwise … and yet the words and that near desperate kiss turned the post orgasmic haze into something far mellower. Breaking the kiss, but keeping his hand in the back of Jean's neck. "What do you want?" Dan smiled, murmuring against the other's lips. "Want my arse?" And he didn't even ask himself what he'd just offered.

Jean's lips opened, nodding, feeling protected and a whole lot more. "Hand … a hand's alright … but if you … If I can have that, fuck yes …" Lust growing only worse, weeks and weeks of need and the memory of Dan's body. "Shit. Oh shit." Knew what it all meant and couldn't think it, couldn't think desire and lust and more and wanting, friend and comrade, and mercenary, and fellow man, man.

Dan did nothing but grin and nod. Strange, how this seemed the most normal thing in the world. No holding on to his male 'power', and least of all no Kabul. Was all good, just as he'd said. "How do you want me?" And that, for fuck's sake, that was something he had never asked before, never offered.

"Like this … on your … back." Jean was kissing again. Didn't say, couldn't even think that this was how he did Solange, most of the time, assumed it was the position that felt best, or something, but in truth wanted to understand, wanted to see it was Dan, and that thought aroused him more. Dan. Mad Dog. Not just a body, not even just a man.

"Like this …" Dan repeated, his fingers in Jean's neck stilled. His smile faltered for a moment as he just looked, searched, pondered. On his back. Face to face. He'd never done that, not once. Then he suddenly smiled again, and he nodded. Was all good in the end, was all okay. No past, no dark secrets and no extremes of anything. No rollercoaster of emotions with magnitudes of life and death. No Kabul, and no derelict house in a stinking alley that had long been reduced to rubble. "Okay." His hand slid down Jean's shoulder, resting on the biceps, while his lips quirked lop-sided.

Jean paused as well, as if he sensed the reluctance, and kissed Dan again, eager, tender, passionate, heartfelt. "That alright?"

"Aye. Just be gentle with me." Dan winked, but there was seriousness in the humour. "I just came."

"Shit." Jean gave a laugh. "That means that … you're tender, right? It's fine, I'm okay with a hand. Or just let me cool down a bit and keep kissing and stuff, until you're … recovered."

"No worries, I'll be OK." Taken aback for a moment at this oddly tender way of being taken care of. With Vadim it was different, each expected the other to put a stop to things if they needed to. This was … like being a girl, perhaps, and Dan suddenly laughed low. "Just don't pound away like a meat cleaver." Flashing a grin while slowly moving onto the side so he could scoot properly onto the narrow bed.

Jean shook his head. "Hey, I can be gentle, now, can I?"

"Aye," Dan grinned, "you are."

Almost as if apologizing. "I am good with just … other stuff." Jean followed onto the bed, lying on top of Dan, arms keeping most of his weight off Dan's chest, like he would with Solange, but his cock pressed against Dan's thigh.

Dan started to laugh again. "Don't treat me like a china doll, I'm fucking Mad Dog!" As if emphasising his point, he lifted his legs, with the other's body between them, and pulled his knees nearly up to his chest. "What are you waiting for? I see you're gagging for my exquisite arse." Hiding some of the strange feeling with a lopsided grin.

Jean stared down at him, his grin faded, face suddenly smooth and relaxed, like he rarely was. Jean's usual expression was a grin, or the beginning of a grin, or a moment of wicked humour.

Dan cocked his head to the side, and simply watched the face and its expression he had never seen before. He could not decode it, but stored it away.

Jean suddenly frowned as if he had just become aware of himself, and rolled his eyes as the grin came back. "What a slut", he muttered, in good humour, and he crawled over, reaching for lube, and reaching further for a condom.

"Yeah, I guess." Dan took his knees, hooked his arms underneath to lift his legs up. Spread, open, and suddenly goddamned uncomfortable when Jean's body left and he just lay there. "Hurry up, aye?"

Jean grinned. "Listen, I'm trying to take it slow and you already start pushing." Shaking his head as he flicked open the cap and smeared a generous amount of gel on Dan's ass, who cursed at the sudden coldness. "Relax. You can always put your legs on my shoulders … it's easier on your fucked arm, too." Reaching for a pillow and shoving it under Dan's ass. "Lift it, sweetheart." Dan did, and felt a notch more like an idiot.

Slippery fingers struggling to hold the condom which Jean opened with his teeth - skilful and practiced enough to alleviate all fears of punctures, and he rolled it down over his cock, then leaned against Dan's knees and rubbed Dan's hole. Warming and distributing the lube, sliding the thumb in, just the first digit, teasing Dan and grinning as he did, not disgusted by any of this, merely a friendly, experienced tease. "But you're right. You have a great ass."

"I wouldn't know. Can't see it from here."

"Just trust me with it." Jean leaned in to rub his face against Dan's leg, pushing his finger deeper, bending it and massaging the muscle, getting it to relax for him. Strangely erotic, still, to have Dan like this, and do this, and it gave him time to calm down, too. Just a bit.

The touch was good, no question, and if it continued it could even ignite another slow-burning fire, that soon after he'd cum, but Jesus fucking Christ, was that what a bint felt on an examination chair? "You going to find a foetus up there?" Dan hid the discomfort with a grin.

"Only if you stuck one up there", Jean retorted, grinning. "What? You nervous, babe?"

"Did you just fucking call me 'babe'?" Dan's incredulity couldn't be any more comical. Especially not with a finger up his arse and his knees wide open, thighs pressed to his chest.

"I think I just fucking did." Jean laughed like this was some stupid standoff in the chow hall. "So what are you going to do about it, sweetheart?" Joining another finger and pushing it in, then sliding it out, slowly fucking Dan with two fingers and giving him the Mother of all Grins. "If I go too fast or rough or whatever, tell me, okay? Talk to me. Solange just hits me with a pillow when I do." A wink, and the grin turning softer, gentler.

"I'm a bloke. I'm not your Solange." Dan's voice betrayed that those fingers had an effect. Yet so … vulnerable. So much for his reputation as Mad Dog, hard-as-nails motherfucker.

"I noticed. You got the full set." Jean smiled, looking pointedly at Dan's cock. "I'm not even sure I'd like you if you got an operation and turned into a girl."

"Shit." Dan pressed out. "It's just that …damn." Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, "never done it like that before." Adding, with suppressed aggression, "okay?"

"On your back?" Jean paused, pulling his fingers out only to adjust Dan's hips. "Okay. No problem." Then why the pause, the reluctance, and then agreeing to it? "Are you positive you want this?"

"Aye," and he was. "I just feel …," he grimaced, "like a total idiot like this, with my legs up in the air. Waiting for the gynaecologist."

"Yeah, I can imagine." I can't really, Jean thought. Despite the vastly powerful body under him, open, ready, Jean couldn't drag his mind off that thought. Dan's reluctance to get fucked even though he'd done it, a