by brooklinegirl (witchbaby)
Plot, not so much. Love and sex? Oh, yes! Oh, and listen, this takes place a bit further along in my timeline than Come See About Me and Slip Away. . .basically because the guys apparently don't want to share their first time with me yet! So, we're talking a few months further down the line, and they're a *bit* more comfortable with each other.
Much thanks to Mel and SnowFlake for all of their help in this story!
How was it possible that theyíd not always been doing this?
Zeke traced a finger down Myronís bare chest. Myron, not yet asleep, fluttered his eyes a bit open, smiled sleepily, and shifted a bit closer. A wonderful thing, for them to be together, to be truly alone together, and on a soft bed with clean sheets, no less.
Zeke wondered just what exactly Myron had traded for a night in Johnnyís penthouse. That, and the passes into the city, must have cost him big. Wondered just how much Johnny knew about the two of them. McKay tended to notice a lot, especially when it came to Myron. But it seemed he was willing to keep his mouth shut about this, anyway.
Wasnít a whole lot Zeke could do about it, anyway. Either McKay knew or he didnít, and Zeke just wasnít going to let that distract him from the wonder of his current situation.
Zeke, leaning up on one elbow, watched till Myronís eyes were well and truly closed. He should be asleep, his own self. Soon enough, but for now. . .for now, he got to lie here and watch Myron sleep.
How weirdly wonderful was that?
All that they went through, every day. Surrounded by blood and pain and bad food and leeches and malaria and all of it, all of it, stuff he didnít, couldnít, put a name to. In the middle of all that, he found. . . this.
Found he couldnít rightly give a name to this, either. He smiled, let his hand drop down to run through Myronís hair. Knew he was bugging the LT. Doing it anyway. Myron didnít even open his eyes this time, just swiped at Zekeís hand like it was a pesky bug. Swiped at it, but caught hold of it. Brought it down to his chest and pinned it lightly under his own hand.
Zeke knew he must be grinning like a fool, but he didnít care. Didnít care, and didnít feel tired either. Felt like he could stay awake forever, if only to keep feeding off of this, off of watching Myron sleep.
Well, almost sleep. Myron was mumbling grumpily, contentedly, if that made any sense. With Myron, it did. That was his way.
It was dim in the room, but Zeke could still make out Myronís features in the darkness. Myron was pressed right up next to him, real close. Felt nice. Looked niceÖall bare-chested and open. Nicely muscled, for such a slim guy. Soft lips and such angel features. . .much too pretty, here at rest, for such a hard-edged LT.
Made his heart feel like it was too big for his chest. Gonna burst, for sure. He wasnít such a tough-guy soldier, was he, not with this boy making him melt all over the place.
Didnít feel so tough.
Well, he did and he didnít. Felt like he could take down Ho Chi Minh himself, just on the strength of this. Felt like he could fly. Just being here, being near the boy, made him feel like that.
Myronís hand was warm over his. Callused, rough, sure, just like his own. A solid weight across his hand, and Zeke wondered if heíd ever be able to wipe that damn smile off his face.
Yeah, the boy made him want to win wars for him. Or. . .end wars. Make everything right, give him everything good there was to give in this world. Silly, he knew, but thatís the way it was.
Myronís breathing was smooth and deep, and Zeke watched his chest rise and fall. Felt it rise and fall, steady-like, under his hand. Nice.
That was part of this feeling, too. The steadiness of it all. Put him in a whirlwind, this boy did, but lent him some measure of steadiness, too, something he hadnít even known heíd been missing.
There were the ever-present tired circles under Myronís eyes. No such thing as enough sleep. Not here. There were lines on Myronís face, too; lines that almost disappeared when he relaxed like this. Lines that shouldnít ever be etched into a 25-year old kidís face. Smoothed out in sleep, like they were now, made him look a whole hell of a lot younger than 25. Zeke shook his head, grinning still over his cradle-robbing ways.
Lines and that scar, lighter now, but there for good, where heíd been skimmed by that bullet. Just showed a little bit, right up there by his hairline, if you were looking for it. Zeke couldnít resist, brought his lips down and brushed a kiss over that scar.
Hmm. Lowered his lips a bit more and pressed them to Myronís temple. Myron stirred against him, grumbly again. Hmm. This time, Zeke found Myronís earlobe with his lips and nibbled.
That got Myronís eyes open. "Sergeant." He was trying for his CO voice, kind of tough when he still sounded so drowsy. Letting himself be drowsy, still, trusting to Zekeís alertness. That kind of trust between them. Amazing.
"Yes, sir," Zeke responded smartly, before burying his lips in the crook of Myronís neck. Stayed there, breathing him in for a minute.
"It's late." Myron did *not* sound convincing. Sleepy boy.
"Hmm." Zeke went for non-committal in his response. He didnít really care how late it was just now.
Myron gave a drowsy sigh and shifted again. "Stop." Again, with the non-convincing tone. "Weíve got to get up early."
Well. That was true enough. Best get started. Zeke slipped his hand out from under Myronís. Myron yawned, stretching. Zekeís eyes danced, watching him leave himself open. Waited a moment, and then his hand dipped low under the sheet, tracing its way down Myronís stomach. Slowly. Casually.
Myronís yawn turned into a groan as Zekeís fingers caressed his stomach. Zeke grinned. And his hand dipped lower.
Myron no longer seemed to be sleepy, Zeke thought. He continued exploring beneath the sheet. Myron gasped and his hands clutched at the sheets. Yep. Not quite sleepy, there. Zeke wasnít all that sleepy himself. Matter of fact, he seemed to have energy to burn.
"Youíre just not ever gonna let me sleep, are you?" Myronís voice was mildly exasperated, still with that aura of sleep, but his eyes were soft as he watched Zeke.
Zeke seemed to think about that for a moment before he reached down and pushed the sheet entirely out of the way. "Nope."
He traced one hand down Myronís side, pulling him closer. Zeke watched Myronís face, loving how in this easy, relaxed place, the emotions raced across Myronís too-open features. Boy was quick to anger, quick to love. Burning bright and hot, and Zeke wondered how much of that had to do with the danger lurking over their shoulders every hour of every day. Borrowed time.
He brought his lips real, real close to Myronís, as his hand kept running slowly up and down Myronís side. Whispered, "You want me to let you alone?" Waited, breathing, heart speeding up. Lips close, bodies close, the room dim around them. Still Zeke waited, waited for the LT to give the word. Myronís body was warm, exuding heat.
Myronís eyes were sharply focused, and he grinned that endearing, lopsided grin. The one that sent Zekeís pulse racing. "Nope." He closed the space between them, kissing Zeke hard.
God. It was amazing, the effect this boy had on him. Zeke tightened his hold, pulling Myron against him, then turned onto his back, effortlessly bringing Myron with him. They were a tangle of arms and legs, closer than ever, and Myron was increasing the intensity of that kiss. Driving him crazy, seemed his very veins were alive with the feel of Myron up against him so close.
Drove him crazy with more than lust, and if anyone asked, heíd have to say no; heíd never found love like this before. Never before. Never like this.
Myron sprawled on top of Zeke, pulled there by those seriously strong arms. Knew theyíd both be exhausted, that morning would come much too soon. But he couldnít bring himself to stop. He was in that state of half-awakening, where everything seemed surreal. He was hyperaware of everywhere their bodies touched, the feel of Zekeís cock brushing against his own, the taste of Zeke as they kissed, all of it sending jolts through him. Zekeís tongue explored his mouth thoroughly, and Myron, refusing to hold back, met him more than halfway.
It was weird and wild and a rush like no other. Fear and love and understanding, an understanding that ran more deeply than either of them were able to grasp; led to a love that they had no ability to control. That was where the fear came in. . . when their love was so very much like falling, actual falling. That letting go, the trust inherent in it all, the rush. . .like nothing else.
So much went on between them. That connection, so much said in just a look. It brought them together. Close together, and it was so *good* between them. Scary, a little, how good it was, and sometimes it kept Myron up at night, pacing the floor and smoking too much, trying to figure it out.
Shouldnít, couldnít, be this good, always. The sheer need that they had for each other, the strength they lent to each other; it wasnít astounding so much as right. Just. . .right. The way it should be. They were whole individuals by themselves, but when they came together, it was more than just sparks. It was fire.
Out of control. Myron heard the little sounds coming from his own throat as Zeke moved up against him harder, both of them getting caught up in the rhythm. It was need and want and love, and it was an amazing thing. Needed more. Needed this. He pulled back for a moment to breathe, but kept moving his hips against Zekeís. Close together in the darkness, and he brought one hand up, holding it against the side of Zekeís face. Myron was surprised to see his hand trembling (this closeness, real, true closeness, brought him to the edge, kept him on the edge). Zeke was watching him, then turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Myronís hand.
Made Myron shake all the more.
This giving of himself wasnít anything heíd ever been able to control. Could never give anything less than his all, heart and soul and mind and body. It had, always and ever, led to hurt for him. Led to broken hearts and broken dreams. Left him feeling like he was missing something, missing some key ingredient that would keep him from falling in love so damn hard, when it seemed no one would ever love him back with half as much care.
But here, here in Zekeís arms (Zeke moving against him still, holding him gently close), he gave his all (couldnít help it, still couldnít help it), and he got everything, *everything*, back. Zeke, always at his side, always there. Knowing what to do to help, before Myron could even put a name to what was wrong. Next to him without pushing him, without crowding him, in all their endeavors.
For once, Myron thought that maybe there was something more than that void of loneliness waiting for him.
Zeke turned now, tumbling Myron onto his back, kissing him and pressing against him (slick now, sliding easily against each other, building, building). Zekeís arms were strong and steady around him, holding him (gentle, yet). One hand reached up, brushed through Myronís hair. Those eyes looked deep into Myronís, and he knew Zeke wasnít hiding anything. He was open and sure in his love.
Myron wasnít left wondering what was real, how much he knew or didnít know. He knew this man, knew him real well, and there was no questioning how real this was. No worries, just love there. His heart hurt, but in a good way. A sharp way. Felt real, like fighting, like crying. Like being in love.
Myron couldnít think anymore. He pulled Zeke down, buried his face against Zekeís strong shoulder, meeting him thrust for thrust. Cocks sliding together, and Zekeís voice, desperate in his ear, "God, yes. Please, yes."
Zeke pulled back to kiss Myron, saying his name, saying he loved him. It was too much to encompass. They were free here, no questions asked. No one to hear, and Myron threw his head back and he was coming, close, so close. He cried out loud as he hit that edge and spiraled over, coming slick between them. He shuddered and opened his eyes to watch as Zeke, lost in the lovemaking, thrust one last time and came, holding himself tight against Myron, groaning loudly. Zeke dropped his head to Myronís shoulder, sweaty, shaky.
Zeke turned to kiss him, hard, then pulled back to look, really look, into Myronís eyes.
What was he thinking? Myron would get so far away in his head, and Zeke would wonder just what exactly went on in there. Just now, Myronís eyes were huge in the darkness, looking up at Zeke as if to memorize him. His hair was soaked with sweat and his face was flushed and he looked real, real young.
Sometimes he just wanted to hold the boy, absorb him, take away any and all hurts. Hold him till it all went away, and there was nothing but the two of them in all the world. Yep, knew it was silly, but couldnít help wishing for it sometimes anyway.
He eased himself off the LT, off to one side. Rested his head on one arm, tired now, watching as Myron blinked owlishly in the darkness. "Hey," Zeke said softly, and this time it was his voice that was hazy with impending sleep. "You okay?"
Myron nodded, looking serious for a moment before he shook his head, smiling. "Think I need a cigarette after that." He sat up, reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand. Lit one, the flame glowing bright in the darkness. He lay back and took a long drag. Blew the smoke steadily towards the ceiling, lay there looking up after it.
Always thinking. Zeke thought that maybe it was a good thing, the LT surely hadnít thought too very much about what went on in his past relationships. This was different, and that was good. Still. . .time to bring him back, maybe. Their time alone together, really alone, was so short. Didnít want him to get lost in his thoughts too very much. Sent him in circles sometimes. "Youíre quiet tonight."
Myron looked at him sideways, smiling again. "Am I? Didnít think so, earlier." He took another drag, smiled wider this time. "Good thing weíre not back at camp. They wouldíve been beating down the door, wondering what the hell you were doing that had me yelling so loud."
Zeke just had to grin at that. Didnít often get to hear that kind of reaction from Myron. It was a constant struggle to keep quiet back at camp. Theyíd gotten used to quiet, quick, desperate lovemaking. To be able to take their time, do it up right, do it over and over and be as loud about it as they damn well pleased. . .well, it was a rare occurrence.
Myron stubbed out his cigarette and turned, facing Zeke. Curled onto his side like that, head resting on his bent arm (unconsciously copying Zekeís pose), he looked sexy and sated. "Nice, to be able to. . ." He stopped, shaking his head a bit, laughing. Hard to put into words, all that was nice about this. "Itís just nice."
"It surely is, LT." Zeke was drifting a bit now. Tired.
Myron was grinning at him. "What, did I wear you out, Sergeant?"
"No, sir." Zekeís voice was mildly indignant. "Maybe I just want a chance to fall asleep next to you, for once." He reached out, pulled Myron gently near. Myron settled down next to him, resting his head on Zekeís shoulder. Zekeís arm curved comfortably around him and Myronís hand rested lightly on Zekeís chest. After a moment Zeke covered Myronís hand with his own. He sighed softly, liking the weight of Myronís head on his shoulder. Liked the feel of lying together, pressed close. Liked knowing that theyíd get to wake up together in the morning.
Zeke wished they could do this more often. Didnít want to let go of this night. Letting go meant that morning would come, and that meant. . . well, he just wished they could do this more often, was all. Like always, for example. He wrapped his arm a little more tightly around Myronís shoulders, and felt Myron sigh, too. Once again, that understanding passed between them. No words were spoken, none were needed.
They lay together in the darkness, quiet and still, and neither slept for quite some time.
back to witchbaby's Tour of Duty slash fic