FLORIDA Chapter 8

Zane was getting cabin fever holed up in the cheap hotel.  Who was he kidding, it was because he was missing Ty.  He wasn’t really worried about Ty on base, but once SST Grady and his recruits left the base on liberty, all bets were off and even Zane couldn’t be sure that he and Wes could cover all the bases to ensure that they would catch the bad guys before something might go wrong.  Normally Ty could take care of himself, but this one just had too many variables for Zane’s liking.  Wes seemed level headed and capable, although he certainly wouldn’t be able to hold his own in hand to hand combat.  That was why Zane was going to be positioned closer to the action and act as the last ditch marksman, with live ammo to take out anyone who threatened harm to the Marines.  Wes would be positioned further back and armed with tranquilizer darts, to stop but not kill.  Something about Wes and Nick still bothered Zane…  but a knock at the door interrupted his thinking.

With one hand holding his Glock behind his back, Zane pulled the door wide.  “Hi honey, I’m home!” Ty said, almost laughing at his own wit.  Zane was both amused and a bit shocked; Ty sported a split lip and bruise on his chin.  Zane stuffed the Glock in the back of his trousers and pulled Ty inside into a strong hug.  Ty tensed up and called out involuntarily in pain.  “Careful, my ribs…  I’m bruised all over!”  Zane released him, holding him carefully by the arms.  They locked eyes, Zane’s expression curious.  “Stark is a skilled fighter,” Ty said.  Zane was cautious with his next question.  “Did you…  lose?” he said tentatively.  Ty chuckled.  “No.  We were pretty evenly matched though.  Didn’t get to finish it, Douglas broke it up.  Just as well actually, before any real damage was done.  Nick and I were about evenly banged up.”

“So did the fight clear things up between you two,” Zane asked.  Ty nodded, talking in stream of consciousness, his brows knit.  “Yeah it was good, mostly for show,” he said, pacing,  “but we had already sort of come to terms and buried the hatchet.  Tears and hugging were involved,” he continued.  Zane just raised an eyebrow.  He cocked an eyebrow at Zane and added, “Didn’t make me any less of a man though.”

Ty tossed his pack on the bed; Zane was watching him closely.  “What?” Ty asked.  Zane shook his head, not answering; he was concerned that based on the fight with Stark, Ty wasn’t 100% physically, and it was possible that would be a risk for the mission that was going down tomorrow.  They had this night together, and Zane wanted to fuck Ty into the mattress all night long before he left in the morning to pick up the men for their weekend pass, and Wes came by to retrieve Zane and get in position.

“I’m fine,” Ty said, reading Zane’s mind.  Zane looked him up and down lasciviously.  “Yes.  You are,” he drawled.  Ty rolled his eyes.  “Pickup lines still need help,” he said.  “I doubt I even need to talk to get you naked and under me, Staff Sargeant,” Zane replied.  Ty nodded, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”  With that, Ty lay down on the bed and patted next to him, for Zane to join him.  Zane crawled up, and pulled Ty into their usual positions, with Ty’s head resting in the crook of Zane’s shoulder, his face leaning towards Zane’s pec.  “Missed you, Lone Star,” Ty said, looking up at Zane’s face.  Zane just tightened his arm in response.  They dozed that way for a while, until Ty started seriously nuzzling at Zane’s pec.  “Someone’s frisky,” Zane said as he looked down and saw Ty’s eyes looking up at him, eyebrows raised.  “What do you want, babe?  Your pick tonight,” Zane offered.  Without hesitation, Ty quietly answered, “Will you fuck me?”  “Of course.  That’s what I was hoping you’d want,” Zane smiled down as Ty averted his eyes.  Damn, he still isn’t totally comfortable asking for it, Zane thought.  So he went about stripping Ty and tossing his own clothes aside with a minimum of talk or fuss, then laid Ty on his back so his ribs wouldn’t hurt.  Lots of eye contact, almost no talking as Zane lubed Ty’s entrance and loosened him, his other hand trailing light touches over his battered torso.  Soon Zane positioned his cockhead and nudged forward, breaching Ty’s hole. Ty moaned briefly; he was tight from having gone without for the better part of a week.  Zane pushed in, filling up his partner; he was rewarded with a look of total bliss on Ty’s face, eyes half closed, head tilted back.  Topman my ass, Zane thought as he took his lover.  But I have to keep on making you think you are, he mused as his balls hit Ty’s ass.  The deed was done quickly, Zane shooting into Ty and Ty softly jerking himself and shooting over his hard torso while Zane roughly worked his nipples.  The stubble across Ty’s chest and flat belly was just starting to grow back in, Zane noticed.  He would have to trim up before heading out tomorrow.  Without even bothering to clean up, the lovers climbed under the covers together and fell asleep.  After a few moments, Ty curled on his side and Zane slid up next to him, arm over his lover with his hand planted on his stomach, which finally relaxed.  Ty drifted off first, Zane enjoying seeing him at peace for a change.  The fight and whatever he and Stark had talked about must have done the trick; Ty’s mind was at ease.  And it was classic Ty that he wasn’t worrying about tomorrow; no point in worrying about it until it was upon him.  Zane however laid awake a while going over the plan and looking for any risks or needed contingency.

Ty’s internal clock had quickly restored itself from his years in the Corps; after just a week with the recruits, he was waking at 0500 raring to go.  He slipped out of bed, trying his best not to disturb Zane, who released his arms from around Ty, then rolled over and snuffled before his breathing evened out again.  Ty looked down at his sleeping partner; his broad back and wide shoulders, and his thick curly dark hair, mussed from sleep, cascading down the back of his neck.  He was looking forward to both of them returning to Baltimore, where they could relax and just be themselves.  Ty liked nothing better than lazy weekend days, when they could spend the morning hours lounging around the bedroom, both comfortable being naked and amenable to the sex games they were just starting to explore together.  Ty’s cock stiffened as he remembered a time just a couple weeks prior where he had ordered Zane to kneel down as he emerged from taking his morning piss.  Zane had raised an eyebrow and complied.  Ty had roamed his eyes over Zane’s hard torso, then nodded down towards his dangling cock and balls.  “Get it hard,” he had ordered.  Zane’s cock had already responded on its own before he took it in his hand and started languidly stroking.  “Work your pecs” was the next command.  Zane silently raised his other hand and started kneading the solid muscles of his chest, while Ty moved to sit on the edge of the bed and masturbate himself.  Zane knew the game; he was to remain silent, not asking, just obeying.  Although he did take liberty enough to pinch his nipples as he worked his chest.  Ty got off on how Zane’s taut abdominals flexed with each breath as Zane’s breathing became shallow.  “Getting close?” Ty asked, his tone still commanding.  “Yes,” Zane replied, voice hoarse, adding “Sir” which made Ty’s cock leap.  “Lean  back, take it on your torso,” Ty ordered.  Zane leaned back, supporting his weight on one arm thrown back behind him.  His muscled thighs were spread, big balls swinging, as he stroked the last few times before semen erupted from his shaft, spattering over his pecs and belly.  Their eyes remained locked as Ty unfolded himself from the edge of the bed, and quickly moved to stand over Zane, still stroking himself.  He squatted down over Zane’s stretched torso, and with a moan and a few final strokes he added his spunk to Zane’s.  Almost before he was done shooting, Ty knelt down facing his lover, pulling him up and bringing him in for a deep kiss.  Their arms around each other, torsos wet with each others’ loads, loving the way they responded to each other.  “That was hot,” Zane chuckled.  “Ball’s in your court next time, Lone Star,” Ty responded, “you can be the sheriff and I’m the cattle rustler,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.  Zane rolled his eyes, “You really need to get over the whole Texas fantasy.”  Ty shook his head.  “You kidding me?  You in the cowboy hats and boots?  And nothing else?  I’d let you rope me and dole out some frontier justice,” Ty proposed.  “Allow me to translate that,” Zane drawled.  “You want me to tie you up and fuck you wearing the hat and boots?”  Suddenly Ty was shy; he looked at Zane out of the corner of his eye, adding “Maybe,” in a subdued voice.  Zane was already working out how he would work the scene, but that was for another morning, so he stood and offered his hand to help Ty up.  “Let’s shower off before we’re crusty,” he said, pulling Ty after him to the shower.

No time for that this morning, Ty thought, as he started to focus on the mission at hand.  He lathered up his torso to give it a fresh shave as he reviewed the plan from his perspective.  He would drive to base, gather up the recruits, and they would spend the day enjoying liberty before heading to a bar that the Marines frequented in a seedy part of town.  He would let them drink, including himself, but not get too hammered for when it went down.  The whole purpose was to lure the kidnappers out into the open.  They hadn’t figured out how they pulled off incapacitating and taking fit young men and making them disappear, but based on what they had learned by reading the reports of the other disappearances it had to be somewhere between the bar, where the recruits typically drank as a group, and the individual rooms where the hookers plied their trade.  At the end of the night, one or more of the guys simply wouldn’t join their buddies to head back to base, and by that time the trail had gone cold.  So, Ty would farm out the recruits while both himself and Wes and Zane were watching both from inside the building and from the surrounding area. 

Ty looked down; he had finished shaving his chest and belly while he was concentrating.  He reached over and turned the shower on, nodding to himself that he was mentally prepared for the day.  Physically might be another story, as he held his bruised ribs.  He thought of Stark with a bit of concern; Douglas had seemed to come down pretty hard on Nick, and he hadn’t returned by the time Ty had cleaned up and left base for his liberty. 

“We don’t usually take them that old,” the lean man said. 

“He’s fit, and he saw combat in Desert Storm,” the fat man replied.

“You sure about that?” the lean man asked as the cell was unlocked.  He moved in and knelt down beside the unconscious Marine.  He lifted both eyelids, and used his finger to part the lips and inspect the teeth.  “If so, I’ll take him.  There are always buyers for that.  But you’re signing his death warrant,” the lean man continued.

“I don’t give a shit what you or the ragheads do with ‘em, long as you pay,” the fat man said roughly as the lean man ran his hands over the bare torso, inspecting the musculature through the thick pelt of dark hair.

The lean man nodded.  “Fair enough.  Help me strip him so I can finish inspecting his body.”  Both men worked at removing the boots, camouflage pants, and jockstrap.  As they rolled the powerful body over and back the Marine’s handsome head lolled, no muscle control holding it up.  The lean man finished checking out the now naked body.  “He’s impressive.  I’ll take him.  How long will he be out?” he lean man asked.

“Couple hours more.  But you should be off base pretty soon, you’re supposed to be delivering supplies.  Let’s load him.”

Silently the lean man and the fat man secured the Marine with duct tape over the mouth and around the wrists and ankles.  He was loaded into a hamper, towels thrown over the top, then wheeled out to the loading dock and into the back of the panel truck.

As the lean man pulled the back closed, he said to the fat man “Money will be in the usual account.”

The fat man nodded, not able to resist a grin.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, closing the door as the truck started and rumbled off.

Zane rolled over onto his back as the shower was turned on.  He wanted more sleep, but knew that he would rather see Ty off, then he could take a nap before Wes showed up.  When Ty emerged naked from the bathroom, Zane was sitting at the desk chair in his jeans.  Zane studiously avoided running his eyes over Ty’s body; he knew Ty didn’t have time for a roll in the hay.  Ty broke eye contact and started pulling on his civvies, starting with some tight white briefs.  The silence stretched.  They sometimes got this way when a case with too many variables kept them unsettled, running options, scenarios and risks in their minds.  “I’ll be watching.  So will Wes,” Zane finally said.  Ty just nodded, not even looking up.  Zane wanted badly to tell Ty to be careful, ask if his body was up to it, even just tell him he loved him.  But he resisted, knowing they had to be FBI agents first and lovers second for this to work.  They had achieved an uneasy if workable balance, keeping their relationship secret while still maintaining their workplace banter, and more importantly their success rate and reputation as partners intact. 

As Ty shouldered his duffel and headed towards the door, Zane just followed him with his eyes.  Ty sighed, and quickly bent down to deliver a quick kiss.  He cupped Zane’s cheek briefly.  “We’ll be headed home early next week, Lone Star.  Watch my back for me, ok?”  Zane nodded, no words being needed.  Ty straightened and continued towards the door.  Zane watched Ty’s butt in the fatigues as the door shut behind him.

He knew he wouldn’t nap anyway, so Zane changed into a pair of running shorts and put himself thru a series of calisthenics and an abdominal workout that he had come up with while posted in Miami.  Pushups, crunches, squats, dips, you name it.  It was enough to get him sweaty and keep his mind focused while the time passed.  He was actually startled when he heard the knock on the door.  He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand as he got to his feet, running a towel over his face and bare torso to get most of the sweat off.  Almost two hours had passed, and his body felt tight and alert as he moved to the door.  On some level Zane enjoyed keeping his body looking good for Ty.  He attracted all sorts of interest, but his only goal was to see Ty’s eyes light up whenever he saw Zane naked.  Ty’s cock rising was reward enough.

Looking through the peephole, Zane saw what he expected.  He opened the door and let Wes in, lugging a couple long heavy cases.  “Morning,” Wes nodded, a bit surprised to see Zane just in a pair of running shorts.  He set the cases down on the second bed.  “Sorry, I lost track of the time, was just doing a quick workout,” Zane explained.  “No problem, I can wait while you get ready.  We have plenty of time,” Wes said as he sat down.  Zane grabbed his dopp kit and went into the bathroom to start getting ready.  Wes looked around the room idly; he was dressed in comfortable jeans and a polo shirt.  It hugged his pecs and biceps, but was loose over his worked out abdominals.  After the shower ran, Zane came out into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist.  He dug through his open suitcase, pulling out a black tee shirt and black jeans.  Stepping into a jockstrap, he pulled it up under the towel, tossing the towel off as he cinched the strap around his waist.  He turned his back to Wes to step into the jeans, giving Wes a full view of Zane’s muscled butt, dusted with dark hair, darker at the crack.  Not a single flicker of reaction to the FBI agent’s near nudity or lack of modesty crossed Wes’ face.  Buttoning up the jeans, Zane turned to face Wes as he pulled the shirt over his head. While Zane’s face was covered by the tshirt as he struggled to pull it down over his torso, Wes’ assessing gaze traveled over Zane’s stretched pecs and down the treasure trail on his six pack as it thickened towards his groin.  Zane tucked the shirt in, cinched his belt, and ran his hand thru his hair.  He purposely hadn’t shaved, and didn’t bother to slick his hair back; the part of town they would be operating in called for just the sort of look he was sporting.  In his own way, Wes would fit in as well, looking like some married businessman whose wife no longer put out and wanting to get laid with no strings. 

Zane laced up his boots, then Wes opened both cases and walked thru the finer points of the rifle and the tranquilizer gun.  They had been over the plan many times.  Ty was playing designated driver, and would lead the recruits as a group to one of the popular bars that they had agreed upon.  Wes and Zane would take up positions on nearby low rooftops, with clear shots towards both the front door and the back alley.  It was assumed that the kidnapped Marines didn’t leave under their own power; lugging a couple hundred pound man required some logistics and a vehicle, so there should be plenty of opportunity to catch them in the act.  Plan A was that Ty would pull his service weapon and engage the culprits, with Zane and Wes as backup.  Plan B was that if Wes and Zane saw it going down but there was no sign of Ty, they would fire either bullets or darts, depending on what was needed.  They wanted these men alive, so they could interrogate them and find out who was behind the operation.  Bullets could be used to maim or shoot out tires, and darts to knock them out. 

Ty was the ringleader for the ongoing beerfest that was the recruits’ liberty.  They knew they had all day Saturday and Sunday to let loose and get drunk, and hopefully get laid, then still have Sunday night to sleep off any hangover before being ready to get back to their training on Monday.  And who better than to lead them to all the hot spots of the low rent district of Miami than their new buddy, Staff Sargent Ty Grady.  There was still a bit of a cloud hanging over the men due to the handling of Captain Stark by Major Douglas, but as an officer Stark wouldn’t have been accompanying them anyway, so they figured they would see him on Monday, scowling as usual. 

Ty had the course all mapped out, hitting a few dive bars with cheap beer and pool tables and dartboards ready for the men to loosen up, before hitting the place that was suspected to be where the kidnappers had taken at least several of the young Marines.  It was the last place any of them had been seen; a place called Spotty’s.  The main floor was your typical rough bar, older and not very clean with neon signs in the windows.  There were a few rooms upstairs, ostensibly for drunks to sleep it off so they wouldn’t have to drive, but it was suspected that some of the barflys and even a few of the cocktail waitresses would spread their legs for a hundred bucks in the rooms. 

Spotty himself, a faded older Irishman with freckles across his cheeks and nose, nodded and grinned at the Marines as they entered.  Generally speaking the men from the base got pretty rowdy with each other, but they didn’t cause trouble with anyone else and certainly were a deterrent for other troublemakers.  Plus they were generally nice guys, and free with their tips, so Spotty welcomed them.  Ty had never met Spotty, but as he approached the bar with his hand out, Spotty was all too eager to shake his hand warmly and start pouring pitchers for Ty’s men.  “Hi,” Spotty said, taking the firm handshake, “I’m Beauregard, but everyone calls me Spotty.”  Ty’s eyebrows shot up.  “Beauregard?  Well shit.  I never tell anyone this, but my real first name is Beaumont.  I go by Ty though.”  Spotty gave Ty a wry grin.  “We both have reasons to keep our first names hidden, huh Beau?”  They shared a chuckle, as Ty started ferrying the pitchers to his men.  “Some darts, Spotty?” Ty asked.  With a quick nod, Spotty handed over the darts and chalk to keep score.  “Thanks,” Ty said as he sat on the barstool, and turned to watch him men.  Or at least that’s what he appeared to be doing, as he quickly surveyed the entrances, exits, windows and stairs.  It seemed straightforward enough; alley out back, probably a few rooms on the top floor.  Nothing fancy, probably a second set of stairs that led from the upper floor directly outside.  It was assumed that the captured Marines were subdued during or after they drained their balls.  Smart plan, to catch a man when he’s sated and at his most vulnerable and least prepared to fight; probably even still with his pants around his ankles. 

Nick wasn’t going to force it; he thought it was best to let nature take its course.  Certainly there were some attractive females present, a few of whom had already given Ty the eye.  He smirked inwardly; if only they knew what turned his crank.  Ty’s thoughts turned to Zane; he assumed that Wes had picked him up, and by this time they were already in position.  Ty’s eyes next roamed over his men; he was trying to decide who might be tempted to part with some cash for a piece of tail.  The Hispanic boys were always prime, since with their Catholic upbringing they had the least opportunity for premarital sex growing up.  However the vast majority of the men taken had been Caucasian, with a preponderance of those being good looking and fit, with fair complexions.  Oh well, Ty thought, nothing to do but wait.  He poured himself a glass of beer from one of the pitchers, only his third beer of the day, and let himself be lured into a game of darts as some of the men waved him over.  These boys didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for, he thought to himself as he stood and walked over to join them.

Zane’s sixth sense was pinging like crazy.  Something didn’t seem right.   He and Wes had been in position for just over an hour, and sure enough they had seen Ty and the recruits arrive at Spotty’s and head inside.  Since then, not a single suspicious vehicle or person had driven by, walked in, or come through the alley.  Zane rubbed his chin, liking the feel of the scruff.  He envisioned rubbing it up Ty’s spread asscrack, since he knew how much Ty hated Zane’s facial hair.  Ty was a bit obsessed with Zane’s looks; ever since their Special Agent in Charge Dan McCoy had referred to Zane as “pretty” in front of the assembled Baltimore team, Ty had become hyper aware of Zane’s physical attributes, and how they appealed to the people Zane interacted with, especially women.  Ty discovered he liked controlling exactly how Zane looked.  Zane played along, secretly loving the fact that Ty even wanted to tell him what to do, while being in denial that he was any great prize.  All Zane saw was his crooked nose, his graying temples, and the skinny kid that he had once been.  Ty had always been focused on Zane’s muscled back and broad shoulders, and recently had added Zane’s hard six pack and thick longish hair to his fixations.  Zane had grown it long because Ty asked him to; he had been immensely touched when one day he came home to find a selection of hair gels that Ty had purchased for him laid out on the vanity in the bathroom they shared.  Each day Zane had styled his hair slightly differently, with different product, asking Ty which way he liked it.  Once he found one that Ty declared his favorite, he didn’t vary it.  Lately it was an easy way to tease Ty, that Zane would cut his hair short.  He never did though, keeping it slicked back and under control at work, still looking clean cut and professional, and a bit more unkempt at home.  Today however, Zane was sporting messy loose curls cascading down his neck and 3 days’ worth of beard.  As he shook off the memory of Ty’s obsession with him, he reached up, ran his hand through his hair, down to his neck, which he absently rubbed hard to try and relive some tension.  He turned his head from side to size, trying to pop the vertebrae.  As he did so, he looked over his left shoulder to where Wes was hidden behind the chimney of the building; Zane was closer to the parapet, at the top of the service stairs behind a dormer window.  They made brief eye contact; Zane could see the sights of Wes’ weapon, so he knew he also had been scanning the area.  Trusting that both of them were trained professionals and would respond according to the plan they had worked out, Zane turned his attention back to the building containing Spotty’s.

Damn it, thought Ty.  Three of his men had already gone up to get laid, and come back down with smiles on their faces.  Two of the Hispanic dudes, which he wasn’t sure would draw the kidnappers out; but Kroeter had just come back down as well. Kroeter was a tall strapping blond farm boy from the Midwest, with a killer body and fair skin.  If they didn’t make a move on him, then he didn’t know what else to do.  Obviously they weren’t waiting, or they had been warned off.  Ty scowled as he turned to face the dartboard; anyone looking at him would just assume he was concentrating on the dart game, not running options for what might have gone wrong with their trap.  He sighed, relaxed his upper body, tensed his arm and launched the dart.  It hit the center of the dartboard, to the sound of a collective groan from his men; he was already cleaning up, having won every game so far.  Frustration made Ty’s concentration sharp, and it was showing.  He strongly suspected someone was onto them; he knew Zane could take care of himself, and he looked forward to hearing what if anything Zane had seen. 

Zane was not in a position right that moment to see anything.  Ten minutes ago, a dark panel truck had pulled up in the alley behind Spotty’s.  Zane was instantly alert, as he knew Wes would be as well.  He looked thru the sights of his rifle; he had binoculars as well, but it would take precious seconds to put down the binoculars and switch to the rifle and aim; seconds he didn’t want to gamble, when Ty’s safety was at stake.  The impact in his upper back caught him off guard.  He fell forward slightly, the rifle skittering out of his hands.  Even as he started to lose muscle control, he knew what was happening.  He turned to look back at Wes, who was lowering his weapon and turning to beckon behind him; by the time Zane could make out two other figures carefully walking down the sloped roof his vision was already blurred.  He sagged forward, trying to move his arms to his hip where he had a handgun.  His fingers wouldn’t work.  He saw two sets of boots in front of his face.  They were reaching for his arms.  “Careful, he’s got knives strapped to his wrists,” he heard Wes explain.  Zane was grabbed by the biceps and drug out of his perch.  In so doing, his tight black shirt came untucked and pulled up out of his dark pants.  The gritty composition roof scraped on his exposed abdominals as they forcibly pushed his sleeves up and disarmed him, before wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing him.  His handgun was also removed.  As they lifted him fully in order to drag him away, Zane’s head was dropping, his vision nothing more than blurred images moving jerkily; his eyes watered and his throat was dry.  That’s all he thought of as he slipped into unconsciousness.

They had carried their heavy burden down the interior stairs, and out to the back of the building, where the panel truck had moved.  The diversion had worked like a charm, distracting Zane from checking his surroundings while Wes adjusted his aim, the crosshairs on Zane’s broad back.  Although there was little hope of him doing anything other than taking the dart as planned; he was a sitting duck for Wes to take down.

Zane was loaded into the back of the truck.  Wes knelt next to him as the back door was slammed, and the two men got in the front. As they pulled away, Wes was already wrapping duct tape around Zane’s boots.  He gently lifted Zane’s head and pressed a six inch strip over Zane’s mouth.  He didn’t bother blindfolding him; Zane knew Wes had betrayed him.  If only Wes could tell him the whole story, but he needed to keep Zane silent and assuming Wes had sold him out.  Wes sighed, then called out, “He’s secure,” to the men in front.