FLORIDA Chapter 9

 Zane awoke slowly.  As his vision cleared, his visibility narrow through half open eyes, he could see his arms secured over his head.  His head didn’t hurt, but his thought processes and movements were sluggish.  He knew he’d been drugged, and the memory of being startled by the shot to his back returned.  He glanced around, not moving his head, only his eyes.  He was in what looked like the mechanic bay of a gas station.  The dark night was visible through the windows in the garage bay door.  It smelled of gasoline and motor oil, and stale sweat. 

Zane was breathing heavily through his nose; he realized his mouth was covered with duct tape.  Instinctively he parted his teeth and lips as much as he was able, and began working the moisture of his saliva into the adhesive, to loosen it.  As he glanced down, he saw duct tape similarly binding his ankles, and his shirt was pulled up around his midsection.  His hip holster was empty.  Returning his gaze to his bound wrists, he saw that they were cuffed together, and secured to a piece of the heavy machinery.  His sleeves had been pushed up, the sheaths empty.  Damn, Wes was certainly thorough.  Zane had a dim memory of other men helping, but could really only recall boots and a tugging on his arms.  He rested his head back to the hard concrete floor to wait; only his tongue moving as he tried to work under the duct tape covering his mouth.

Ty sighed, frustrated as he herded his men back into the van.  They had all gotten laid, at least the ones who wanted to, including Ty who had to put on a show of camaraderie with him men.  They hooted and hollered when their Staff Sargeant came bouncing down the stairs afterwards.  He shrugged it off, returning to the dartboard and ordering a final round of pitchers.  As the van started up, he checked his phone for any messages from Zane.  Nothing.  He sent off another text to Zane and Wes to inquire as to what they had seen.  Obviously nothing suspicious, since all his Marines were present and accounted for.  He figured he may as well just enjoy the buzz of a belly full of beer and a set of empty balls.  That would take some explaining to Zane; he knew he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, keep that from his partner.  He had worn a condom, more for his own protection from catching something than anything else.  He wondered idly if that constituted cheating, since it was part of an assignment, as he headed onto the highway back to base.

Nick was struggling.  Gagged and his arms cuffed behind him, he couldn’t do much from the waist up, but his legs were free and he got a couple good kicks in before they tackled him to the bed face down, two men on each of his legs and another practically sitting on his back, crushing his cuffed hands to his lower back painfully.  He felt strong rough hands part his buttocks and forcibly insert something into his hole.  Nick had messed around enough to know it was a plug.  Lubed, but still a big enough plug for its entry to hurt like hell.  He called out through his gag, but the insistent pressure was unrelenting until the wide part passed through his stretched sphincter and the plug settled into position.  Straps were brought up under his butt cheeks and around to his sides.  He was rolled over, his legs still spread.  He looked down his flat tight belly to where his cock and balls were fully exposed.  His last memory had been the doc seeing to his injuries in the brig, after the fight with Grady.  He moaned and lay his head back, relaxing his body, when he saw what his captors were bringing over next.  He didn’t resist as a chastity device was locked onto his cock and balls, only grunting as his big testicles were forced into the device, and his cockhead aimed at the tip so he could piss.  Nick took the opportunity to look around the room as the straps from under his ass were brought around and buckled to the chastity device, to keep everything in place.

Nick tensed, and a cold sheen of sweat broke out on him as he surveyed the room.  SHIT!  There were a dozen spartan metal bedrames like the one he was forcibly being held down upon; each contained a fit man, most of them younger, but all obviously military, all stripped naked and bound up like Nick.  Only difference was their wrists and feet were shackled to the bedframe.  Nick groaned as his feet were similarly secured, then he was forced into a sitting position for his cuffs to be removed and reattached with his arms overhead.  He had fallen prey to the exact kidnapping ring that Wes, Ty and Zane had been brought in to bust.  Where the fuck were those guys?  Nick knew in an instant that the kidnappers had inside help.  No way could be have been transported off a US military base without help.  He just hoped that the FBI and DEA agents were on the trail.  Not so much for himself, but for the young men in the room, staring at him with wide eyes.  A couple of them he recognized as men he had trained over the last few months who had gone missing.  The shock at seeing their Staff Sargeant taken and subjected to the same treatment was visible on their faces.  Once his arms and legs were shackled to the bed, the men who had brought him in turned and left, bolting the metal door behind them.  The room was concrete block, with bars on the small windows placed high on the far wall.  There was nothing to do but wait; the prisoners couldn’t even talk to each other.

ZANE COMES HOME LATE

ZANE COMES HOME LATE

Zane had been working late, pulling together a surveillance report on some suspected smuggling going on in the Inner Harbor.  Ty had been wrapped up in his softball games.  They hadn’t done much but sleep next to each other in a couple weeks.  Zane missed showing up to Ty’s games, seeing him play.  He truly was the glue that held the team together.  When he was ‘on’, there was nothing Zane enjoyed watching more.  Hopefully next week he could catch a game, since he was presenting the surveillance report to Mac and the ASAICs on Monday to see if further action was warranted.  Zane was glad the work week was finally over, even though the case report wasn’t completely done.  He still had the weekend to finish it up.

Zane unlocked the door of the row house and quietly set his keys in the bowl, next to Ty’s.  He saw Ty’s pack by the stairs, and his leather jacket thrown over one of the barstools at the kitchen counter.  It was almost nine o’clock; Zane shook his head at what a rut he’d fallen into, and vowed to break out of it.  Keeping Ty’s interest was a full time job, and he couldn’t do it if he wasn’t around.  He squatted down to unlace his shoes, then kicked them off.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he quietly crept to the door of the bedroom.  There was enough light from the window to see Ty’s form on the bed, half covered by a thin sheet.  He was bare to the waist, but Zane suspected he had his jeans and socks on; that was classic Ty, being at least partly ready to spring into action. 

Zane returned back downstairs and pulled the unfinished report out of his briefcase.  It was already a thick stack of legal paper and would be even more so before Monday.  He figured since Ty was already asleep, that if got some more done on it tonight, it would give them more free time together over the weekend when Ty was awake to enjoy it.  Thoughts of Ty’s bare torso upstairs and the resultant stiffening in his trousers were pushed aside as Zane cracked open the folder containing his notes and the surveillance photos.

Ty started awake, reaching for the gun under his pillow.  It was there.  He sprang from the bed, wide awake, quickly moving to the open bedroom door.  Lights were on downstairs; Ty wasn’t totally sure if he had left them on or not.  He hadn’t heard Zane come home.  He gave a quick glance at the digital clock on the nightstand.  10:37pm.  What had awoken him?  It didn’t matter; he had to sweep the place for his own piece of mind.  And where the hell was Zane?  He usually texted if he was going to be this late. 

Ty made his way down the stairs silently, gun in hand.  Landing at the bottom, he saw the kitchen lights were on, an empty coffee mug on the counter.  Beyond that, the living room seemed dark and quiet.  Looking more closely, Ty saw a few pieces of paper and a pen on the carpet.  Just above them, hanging over the arm of the sofa, was a familiar forearm and hand, the dress shirt rolled up.  Zane had fallen asleep working.  Ty put the gun in the back of his jeans and tiptoed over, squatting down in front of his partner.

Zane’s head was slumped forward on his chest.  The reading glasses were askance, out of line with his eyes.  A few papers remained in his lap, the rest having fallen to the floor.  Ty’s eyes went soft as he watched Zane’s chest rise and fall.  Zane’s other hand was held across his midsection, stretching the partly unbuttoned shirt and exposing a section of his tan chest, thick with dark hair. 

Ty leaned in close, and tried to gently remove the reading glasses.  Damn, Zane rocked the sexy nerd look, what with his dark hair and stubble.  But Zane jumped, startled, coming awake and grabbing Ty’s arms instinctively.  Ty realized he thought he was fending off an attack.  And in a way, he was.  “Hey, Night Owl, it’s just me, I’ve got you,” Ty said softly.  Zane blinked, then relaxed back and let Ty finish removing his glasses.  “What time is it?  Shit I fell asleep, sorry,” Zane said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ty replied, his hands busy unbuttoning Zane’s shirt the rest of the way.  Zane stayed relaxed, just letting Ty do what he wanted.  Once all the buttons were open, Ty gave the shirttails a couple quick yanks to free the shirt from Zane’s torso.  Zane had leaned up through the waist a bit, and Ty could never get enough of his toned torso.  He slipped his arms low around Zane’s lower back, bringing his head down.  Zane brought his hand up to cup the back of Ty’s head as he latched onto one of Zane’s nipples.  Zane arched his back, getting hard in his trousers.  Ty worked his way across Zane’s pecs to the other one, giving it the same treatment.  Then he kissed his way down Zane’s abs, the hair thickening as it approached his navel.  He kept going down the treasure trail as Zane raised his hips and unbuckled his belt.  Ty did the honors on Zane’s fly, pulling back the fabric to expose the big bulge in Zane’s skimpy briefs.  Ty looked up, and they locked eyes.  Zane was flushed, breathing shallowly.  Ty didn’t often suck cock, so Zane wasn’t going to say a word and risk breaking the spell.  Still looking at Zane, Ty easily pulled the elastic waistband down, reached in to heft Zane’s balls out, and then admired his handiwork.  Zane’s cock was fully hard, big swollen balls held up by the elastic under them, thick shaft standing proudly above.  Precum glistened at Zane’s cockhead.  Ty was mesmerized; damn, the man was hung.  Ty eyed his lover’s cock for a brief moment, savoring the sight, before he opened wide and swallowed Zane deep.  Zane groaned and gently ran his hand over Ty’s hair.  Soon Zane’s cock was coated with spit, and Ty held his balls in his hand, rolling them around, gently working on coaxing a load out of them.  “You can…  be rougher with my balls,” Zane said hesitantly.  Ty circled Zane’s balls with his thumb and forefinger, tugging on them a bit painfully.  Zane reacted strongly, bucking up into Ty’s mouth.  Zane drank in the sight of Ty’s broad shoulders and muscled arms; his stud ex-marine partner on his knees sucking his cock was a powerfully arousing sight.  Zane was getting close.  Ty used a sweat slick finger to prod up under Zane’s balls and tease his hole.  “Oh god,” Zane moaned, his head laid back on the sofa.  Ty pulled off for a brief second, muttering, “You’re getting fucked after this.”  Zane nodded, murmuring agreement.  Ty shoved the finger further into Zane’s tight opening as he tugged hard on his balls.  Zane bucked up, held Ty’s head tight, and unloaded a week’s worth of pent up spunk down his throat.  Zane watched Ty calmly take his load, his throat and neck expanding and contracting with each spurt.  Then he pulled off and licked the head as he relaxed his hold on Zane’s balls.  He looked up at Zane shyly as he moved in and gave Zane’s furry six pack a kiss.  Zane’s hand continued to gently caress Ty’s face.  Before Zane could express his gratitude at the unexpected but awesome servicing, Ty rocked back on his heels, nodded his head firmly towards the stairs, and said, “Upstairs, face down, bite the pillow.”  “Yes, sir,” Zane said, grinning.  They both knew that was how Zane liked it best, being taken roughly from behind, with no choice in the matter.  He could already feel Ty’s hand forcibly holding his neck down to the bed as he struggled to his feet, trying to pull up his pants, put away his half hard cock, and walk at the same time.  It was good to be out of the rut.

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.

FLORIDA Chapter 7

FLORIDA Chapter 7

The men had smuggled the pony keg on base and wasted no time tapping it.  They sat around in a loose circle, glad that the day and the week were over.  Most had ditched their uniform shirts and wore the tight olive tshirts or tank tops that were part of their kit with their fatigues and boots.  Some sat on crates or barrels, surrounding the makeshift ring they had created.  They all had liberty this weekend and it was starting off right.  Cold brew, shooting the shit, some testosterone induced fighting in the form of their Staff Sargeant taking on their Captain. 

The men had taken to Staff Sargeant Grady pretty quickly, he was obviously tough as nails but also a friend who gave good advice and was right in the thick of things with his men.  There seemed to be some tension between him and Captain Stark; several of the guys had seen Grady go into Stark’s quarters every morning early, and more than once Grady had come out looking grim.  Maybe that’s what this was all about, to settle things and clear the air once and for all.

Nobody expected this to be a fight to the finish; rather, just a good natured session to give the two alpha males a chance to poke and punch and see just how tough each other was.  Sure there would be some blood and bruises, but no broken bones or anything that needed a serious visit to the medical facility.  That would mean paperwork and the MPs sniffing into what had gone down.  Nobody wanted that since it would mean the men might lose their liberty for the weekend, but it was a risk they were willing to take.

Fighting on base was strictly forbidden outside the organized matches held each year, and the open containers were a violation as well, so they were keeping it pretty quiet and had set everything up at the far end of the open space behind their barracks, where it was unlikely anyone would see what was going on. 

Grady came out of the barracks and a cheer went up, paper cups of beer raised in toast.  Obviously the sentiment was that they wanted Grady to emerge victorious.  Grady shushed them, grinning.  He immediately peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, demanding, “Where’s my beer?” to the assembled men.  They quickly got him a full cup of cold beer as he flexed and preened and showed off his hard muscled torso. 

Inside, Nick likewise had already ditched his shirt.  He wasn’t trying to hide his age, so the thick pelt of dark chest hair swirled over his pecs, down his flat belly and fanned out as it disappeared into his fatigues.  Nick was a skilled fighter, and after several broken fingers over the years he had learned to tape them before any fistfight.  Nick sighed.  It was time.  In more ways than one.  He retrieved the framed picture of him and Scott out of the drawer where he kept it hidden, and set it in front of him on the desk.  Similarly he opened the bottle of whiskey kept in the same drawer, and poured himself a healthy slug.  He locked his eyes on the image of Scott, and in his way tried to close the door and say goodbye, as he downed the booze.  It burned on the way down and a warmth spread through Nick’s insides as he put the bottle and the picture away.  He rose and went to the rear door of the barracks.  Looking outside, he saw his opponent laughing and fitting in with the men, one of them.  He was uncertain of Ty’s skill level, he assumed it was higher than his.  He also knew that Ty wouldn’t go all out and end it quickly, or even kick his superior officer’s ass as severely as he probably could.  If Nick put on a good show he would be happy.  Quit selling yourself short, he thought to himself.  You were base hand to hand fighting champion three years running and could probably show Grady a thing or two.  Who are you kidding, this kid has been doing covert black ops as recently as the last few months and you’ve been parked here training grunts for longer than you care to remember.  His final thought to himself was, let’s get this over with and then he added one more…  and have fun.

They men cheered again when Nick pushed through the door.  Damn, the man has an impressive body, Ty thought.  Ty knew that opponents sometimes underestimated his own physique, and he used that to his advantage.  Neither man was modest, but Stark carried himself with the ease of man completely at ease with himself.  The two locked eyes briefly as is to confirm, ‘showtime’, then Ty stood and approached his Captain. 

Nick was a couple inches taller and more ostensibly muscled.  Ty was leaner and every inch of him toned and hard.  Both men had dogtags on above the waist and nothing else.  Nick turned Ty to be next to him, and threw an arm over his shoulder in solidarity.  “OK men,” he started, “this is to be a fair fight, and provide you slackers some entertainment before your weekend of liberty.  Maybe you’ll learn something about hand to hand combat as well.”  Ty nodded in agreement, slipping his arm around Nick’s waist, a move that felt all too familiar and comfortable, since that’s how he and Zane often slipped into a casual embrace.  “No blows below the belt,” Nick continued, “and no cheap shots to the head.  We don’t want any medics involved, and it’s best if the bruises don’t show too much.”  Nick grabbed Ty’s chin playfully and continued, “and we don’t want to mark up either of our pretty faces,” which brought a loud laugh from the assembled men.   “Especially if your Staff Sargeant wants to have a chance of getting laid this weekend.  Me, you all know my right hand gets a workout ever night anyway, so no loss there.”  The men howled at Nick’s self deprecating raunchy humor, and with that Nick pushed Ty to face him, and the two clasped hands, nodded and backed away from each other to begin.

Both men took up defensive stances, but Nick had a trick he used that never failed, and it didn’t with Ty.  Nick immediately feinted left, leading Ty in that direction, then quickly twisted his right leg up and slammed it into Ty’s unprotected left flank.  Ty grunted, and his eyes narrowed as the men reacted to the blow with sympathetic groans.  Ty lunged for Nick, who easily dodged out of the way.  Fucker’s putting on an act, Nick thought, I know he’s smarter than that.  Two can play at that game, he thought as Nick backed up a couple paces and put his hands on his hips.  He beckoned Ty forward with a ‘bring it on’ motion with his hand.  Ty grinned and complied, dancing forward then retreating, bringing Nick in range for Ty to land a powerful blow on Nick’s bicep; the smack was audible to the audience, who cheered for Ty landing a blow in retaliation for the wicked kick.  Nick spun and sent a roundhouse kick Ty’s way, but it was easily dodged.  As Ty pursued his advantage, Nick twisted out of the way and buried his fist deep into Ty’s stomach, which felt like it was made of steel, but Ty still sucked air and doubled over a bit.  Acting again, thought Nick as Ty barreled into him, chest to chest, the two of them tumbling to the ground.  Ty’s nostrils were flaring as he pinned Nick to the ground, but Nick easily used his heavier weight to flip him over and pin Ty in return.  Nick relaxed his muscles, stood, and offered Ty a hand up.  As Ty stood, the two put their heads close together for a brief moment.  “When you are gonna start actually fighting, Grady?” Nick asked.  “When you show me some moves worthy of the effort,” Ty responded.  Now that they were warmed up and knew where each other stood, it was time to get serious.  This time, they circled for a good couple minutes before Ty saw his opening and sent a powerful blow to Nick’s upper pec.  Nick grunted and took it, staying in his defensive mode. 

Nick identified Ty’s main weakness; he didn’t protect his belly.  He took fierce advantage of this over the next few interactions, with Nick taking blows on his pecs and biceps, and Ty getting some abuse to his abs.  They felt rock solid, that must be why he didn’t bother protecting them.  Both men were sweaty and dirty at this point; it was only a matter of time before someone slipped with one of their blows.  Ty got a glancing strike on Nick’s shoulder, and the strength behind it coupled with  Nick’s slick sweaty skin let the force of Ty’s swing continue and Nick took a nasty blow to his left cheek.  He stumbled back and shook his head.  “Shit.  That hurt,” he said.  Ty dropped his stance to peer close.  “Sorry, Stark.  Accident.”  Nick nodded and got back into position.  Ty mirrored him and they started the dance again.  Next slipup was a glancing blow to Ty’s chin, splitting his lip. 

After another 10 minutes, the pony keg was empty, the cheering got louder, and both combatants were struggling to get their breath, slick torsos bruised and knuckles bloody.  “Call it a draw?” Ty asked.  “Hell no,” was Nick’s grinning reply.

Neither combatant saw it, but the noise had drawn attention in the form of two MPs approaching, led by the base commander.  “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” Major Douglas bellowed.  Some of the men tried to hide their cups, and Nick and Ty separated.  Nick took responsibility by answering, “Just a friendly demonstration of some fighting skills, Sir.”  Douglas walked through the assembled men, right up to Nick and Ty.  He was tall and lean, almost eye to eye with Nick.  “I can smell the bullshit coming out of your mouth, Captain.”  Then he looked around.  “Drinking in the barracks, open containers, unauthorized fighting, fraternization…”  He shook his head in mock sadness.  “Stark, you’re not setting a good example here.”  Ty spoke up to defend Nick and their bout.  “Sir, I think if you…”  But Douglas cut him off.  “Not one word out of you, Staff Sargeant.  I know you’re new here on my base, so you might not know how I like run the show around here.  But the Captain here certainly does.”  Nick wasn’t hanging his head in shame or anything, rather just bracing himself for the verbal dressing down he assumed was coming.  Again Douglas shook his head and sighed.  “I can’t overlook such a blatant breach of the rules.”  He nodded to the two MPs who he had brought with him.  “Men, detain the Captain in the brig until further notice.  Noone except myself is authorized to release him.”  The men groaned at the base commander ruining their fun.  Ty narrowed his eyes, watching intently.  Nick took a step backward, a bit surprised at the strength of the reaction.  Douglas had always looked the other way before when Nick bent the rules to entertain his men.  But he steadied himself and put his arms back, chest out, eyes forward and barked “Yes Sir.  Sorry Sir,” as the MPs approached.  One of them nudged Nick’s arm as he went behind him, “Arms behind your back, Captain.  You know the drill.”  Nick obeyed without hesitation.  Douglas roamed his eyes over Stark’s bare torso, the muscles tensing as he complied with the order.  The MPs grabbed Nick by the biceps, one on each side, and started to march him off.  Douglas took a few steps forward, then turned and looked around the assembled men, halting his gaze on Ty.  “I expect things to shape up in this unit, Staff Sergeant.”  “Yes Sir,” was Ty’s easy answer, as his eyes followed Stark being led away.  Something was damn peculiar here but as usual his expression gave nothing away.  At least the base commander hadn’t canceled their weekend liberty, if he was even aware of it. 

Nick was seated on the cot in one of the cells in the base brig.  They were basically small prison cells, each with a toilet, sink and cot.  Mostly used for drunk and disorderly Marines to sleep it off, occasionally an officer was held here.  In such cases, the end cell was always used, to give the man a modicum of privacy.  He hadn’t been booked, just escorted down the hall to the end cell and locked inside.  He had been ordered to turn his back to the MP so his cuffs could be removed.  Now, the medic was seated in an upright chair between Nick’s spread legs going over his wounds.  “Ow!” Nick jumped back as the medic wiped the abrasion on his cheek with a disinfectant solution.  “Easy there Captain,” the medic replied, “this is for your own good.”  The man could smell the battered Marine Captain, and was impressed with his musculature.  Nick hadn’t been offered, or asked for, a shirt.  “Lean back,” the medic prompted, pushing on Nick’s chest.  Nick leaned back with his arms stretched out behind him, holding his torso up.  The young medic poked at his taut stomach muscles, examining the bruises, then moved up to his pecs, one of which was already sporting a vivid bruise.  “I hope the other guy looks worse,” he joked.  “About the same,” Nick replied.  It was unusual that no ranking officer had come back to review the charges against Nick; he was hopeful that that meant Douglas had softened up a bit and wasn’t going to throw the book at him.  Nick was perfectly willing to spend a night in the brig in exchange for nothing going on his record.  Besides, Ty was leaving tonight to reconnoiter with Zane at his hotel, and then tomorrow the plan was going to be put into action to try and flush out the kidnappers.  But Douglas knew that, so why had he stuck his nose into the fight?  As Nick was looking down the hall thinking through this, he missed the medic prepping an injection.  He jerked his head back around and moved his hand to his stomach as the man was pushing the plunger down, the needle buried in Nick’s thick abdominals.  “What the hell are you giving me?” Nick asked, angry at being caught off guard.  “Just a booster in case any dirt got in your wounds and causes infection.”  Nick felt the effects immediately, and the medic stood and gripped Nick’s shoulders firmly, easing him down.  “Why don’t you lie down, Captain, while it takes effect.”  Nick tried to respond, but his neck and throat felt tight.  The medic bent and lifted Nick’s legs to lie him down fully on the cot.  Nick looked down his body, seeing his pecs, his belt, and his boots.  He focused on his boots.  The laces were going in and out of focus.  He looked up at the medic with a puzzled expression.  “I have to go now,” he said quickly, packing up his equipment.  “You just try and rest…  go to sleep, Captain.”  Nick nodded weakly, glad to have been given an order that he could obey without question.  His handsome head fell to the side, eyes closed, before the guard was done locking the cell behind the medic.

FLORIDA Chapter 6

There was a soft knock on the door jamb of Nick’s quarters.  As the Captain in charge of training the recruits, he had a small private bedroom with a private head and closing and locking door at the far end of the barracks where the recruits slept in their bunks.  Against one wall was shoved a simple desk which held his laptop; on the other wall was the Spartan cot that Nick slept on.  “Come,” Nick barked, not looking up from where he was seated, checking his email.  Ty pushed the door open and quietly closed it behind him.  Nick looked up; he was already showered and shaved, his thick dark hair expertly parted and still damp.  He had missed a spot of shaving cream behind his earlobe.  Nick was in his boots and fatigues, skintight olive tshirt clinging to his upper body.

Nick nodded towards his cot.  “Sit, Grady,” he ordered.  Ty did he as he was told, nodding and answering, “Yes, Sir.”  Even though they were working this case as equals, Nick technically outranked him, plus in the role he was playing he should address him that way.

Ty slept out with the young Marine recruits.  He had the first bunk as you entered the barracks, so noone could come or go without passing him and his watchful eye.  The Staff Sargeant was supposed to mentor and fit in with the men; almost be one of them, but more like an older brother.

Ty was also already showered, even though there was still a half hour before the other recruits would be rousted out of their beds.  Both men naturally woke early, and this was a good time for them to be able to quietly share information on the mission at hand.

“Any thoughts on how to track the disappearances?” Nick asked, leaning back in his chair.  Ty couldn’t help but notice how the tight tshirt clung to Nick’s tight waist and flat belly, hugged his big pecs, biceps straining the tight sleeves.  Then he raised his eyes to Nick’s face.  As much as he loved Zane, he was back in the Marine headspace and there was no way to avoid the potential arousal of all the fit male bodies.  Mostly the younger men, the recruits, didn’t do much for him.  Ty liked men, not boys, and Nick was all man.  Maybe if they had met 10 years ago…  or if Nick hadn’t had his history with Scott…  how did things get this fucked up?  Ty loved Zane and that was all there was to it.  Any history between Nick and his dead lover Scott or with Wes was their own business.  Ty could have sworn Wes was lying when asked point blank if there was anything inappropriate going on between him and Nick.  Generally Ty trusted Wes, but now that was Zane’s problem.  If Nick had any issue with Ty, it would focus on Scott. 

“Yes Sir,” Ty answered, leaning forward.  “Of course the men all disappeared, in ones or twos, when they had liberty and were out having a good time.  I’ve asked around for what are the fun places to go, and while there doesn’t seem to be a pattern, that tells me either that the recruits are being watched and tracked, or…  that there’s someone on base giving out the information.”  Nick’s eyes didn’t betray any emotion when as he listened.  “I figured the former…  but the idea of someone on base being involved?  Damn Grady, that’s some serious shit.”  Nick nodded in agreement.  “I know.  I’m going to accompany the men on liberty this weekend, and I’ll keep my eyes out for a tail.  But before we go, I’ll spread some misinformation about where we’re heading.  So if the bad guys find us, then it’s a tail.  But if they show up where I drop a hint, then we know there’s an informant.  Zane will be at the dummy location to observe.”

“Solid plan,” Nick commented.  “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?” Ty asked, confused.

“Yes, Special Agent Grady.  Us.  You’ve been busting for a confrontation since you showed up here.  But I need you to know that I’ve finally put Scott to rest.  So there is no reason for you to feel like you owe me anything, or tell me anything, about a man I knew better than you ever did.”

Ty drank that in.  “You sure you don’t want to hit me?” he asked. 

The barest smile crossed Nick’s face.  “Oh I want to hit you all right.  But will that really solve anything?”

Ty stared at Nick for a long moment.  He did have something he needed to get off his chest.  He looked back up.  “Scott was afraid of dying.  That was his greatest fear.  I always thought it was because he was leaving his family behind.  But it was you.”

Nick’s eyes stayed locked on Ty’s, remaining silent.

Ty continued.  “When I heard he was shot over the walkie talkie, I was the one to call for Med Evac.  I saw the chopper coming.  The chatter was that he was hurt bad.  The chopper couldn’t come fast enough; I willed it to fly faster.  I was running like hell to meet it, and be with Scott while they loaded him, to see how he was, tell him he had to pull through.”

Ty paused, wiping his hand over his face.  “The chopper was just touching down, I was about 20 yards away, running.  I saw the medic wave the chopper away, to take to the air again.  It was no longer needed.  I came rushing up, shoving the Medic out of the way, and sank to my knees beside the stretcher.  He was gone, his blank eyes staring up.  Nick, you need to know that I’m the one who closed his eyes.  It killed me that I couldn’t be there for him.”

Twin tears streaked down Nick’s face.  Ty had suffered too, he realized.  Everything else melted away; here were two US Marines, sharing the eternal bond of men who had lost a brother in arms.  Both had suffered, both knew they had lost something, but both were still alive and needed to move on.  Silently, the two men stood, closed the small space between, and embraced.  Strong arms each held the other.  They remained silent; no words were needed.  Finally, they pulled back, and looked at each other, studying the emotions they were both trying to hide.  Nick didn’t flinch as Ty reached out and touched the side of his face, running a finger behind his earlobe.  He pulled it back, with a small dab of shaving cream on it.  Nick ignored the fact that his cock was hard in his pants from the embrace and the touch.  “It’s time to wake the men,” Nick stated firmly.  “Yes, Sir” Ty replied, saluting and turning on his heel.

With Ty’s hand on the doorknob, he heard Nick say , “Oh and Staff Sergeant Grady…”  Ty turned to look at his commanding officer, eyebrows raised.  “I will fight you now.”  Nick grinned, adding “Let’s put on a show for the men.  1900 hours.  Bare to the waist.  Fists.  You arrange a pony keg.  And after I kick your ass, you get a night’s liberty.” 

“Yes, Sir!” was Ty’s enthusiastic response.  He would get his fight after all; it was what he wanted, and he had an idea how it would end.  Nick heard his Staff Sergeant bellow “RISE AND SHINE LADIES!!!” through the closed door.