The war is over, but Bruce Carter, now home and struggling to adapt to life as a normal citizen and husband after five years as a soldier, is easily persuaded to step back into the fight when the man he fought alongside asks for his help.
However, when Bruce aids Daniel Best in the rescue of an injured soldier, he uncovers political secrets and lies that force him to question his role in the war, and whether he should believe the man with whom he trusted his life.
Bruce cleaned himself up, wiping away the mud and blood from his hands and face with their limited supply of cold water before heading for their ration stash and picking out a half-eaten bar of chocolate. He was always hungry after a mission and sugar was his go to. He bit into it then turned back to Best’s stiff form as he continued to scratch his pen across the paper.
He was beautiful. Even tense and angry, Bruce couldn’t help but look at him and want to touch, especially as his blood still sang with the thrill of the battle. The adrenaline still rattled his nervous system and he felt his cock harden the longer he gazed at Best.
“Stop writing.”
Best ignored him.
Bruce went over to him and ran a hand over his writing arm, forcing him to stop. Best shrugged him off. “I need to get this finished.”
“Do it later.”
“Leave it, Carter.”
“What’s wrong?”
“If you don’t know, perhaps you can learn by reading this report after I’m finished.”
“What? The mission was a success.”
“You almost had your brain sprayed over the camp. What were you thinking, taking on five men at once? You have to be smarter, you have to strategize, not just blunder in blindly.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh no? What if I’d gotten there too late, or my gun had misfired or I missed? What then?”
“Then you’d be assigned a new subordinate to mother over.”
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Carter. You were reckless and nearly compromised the mission.”
Bruce felt an uncomfortable twinge somewhere beneath his ribs, annoyed Best was more concerned for the success to the mission than ... for Bruce’s life. But that was the way it was supposed to be. They weren’t friends. They’d been forced together by orders on high. Even though they passed the long nights fucking, that didn’t mean anything. Out here in the middle of nowhere, nothing seemed real or permanent. It could all end tomorrow with the right placed bomb or sniper’s bullet so none of it mattered. Only the mission mattered. But Best’s anger still hurt.
“It’s done with now,” Bruce said, stuffing the last of the chocolate into his mouth, but barely tasting it with the bitter edge of Best’s disapproval stabbing him in the chest. “We survived to tell the tale.” He gestured to the stack of paper under Best’s hand.
Best shot him another glare before shaking his head and returning to his report, a touch of sadness in his eyes.
Bruce took the pen from his hand.
“Bruce --”
“Enough.” Bruce took his hand and brought Best’s fingers to his lips. He licked the callused pads then sucked them into his mouth. Best tasted better than any chocolate. He sucked them in deeper and felt some of the angry tension leave Best’s body. This was what they needed. This would quell the chaos in Bruce and dull the sharp edges of Best’s temper. This was how they carried on each day, how with every new mission they were able to return to some sense of sanity, to touch base with humanity.
“Stand up.”
A for moment, Bruce thought Best was going to ignore him, but then his bright eyes softened with undeniable lust. He wet those irresistible red lips and stood. Bruce shoved him against the table, trapping him with his body and leant up on tiptoes to give into temptation and lick that gorgeous mouth. Best gasped, opening his mouth to receive Bruce’s tongue. Their mouths came together in a hungry, violent collision, each trying to devour the other.
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