Duty(13)

It pushes me over the edge, and I'm coming, crying out his name so loud that the birds across the water are startled into flight, their screams nearly the same sound as mine as I squeeze tighter and tighter, not wanting to let this moment go. It's amazing, monumental, and I’m frozen in time.

But when time starts again, Aaron gathers me in his arms and we lay on the ground, close. I turn and nuzzle against him. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” Aaron replies, stroking my hair. All the anger is gone, replaced by a concern in his eyes that warms me. “Was I too rough at first?”

“It's just what I needed,” I reassure him. “I needed it. It's been a long time for me.”

Aaron stops, then nods, grinning. “Okay, I'll accept that. Lindsey . . . I know there are things we don't always tell each other. I guess it's hard when we spend most of our time together with a headwind in our face. But I'd like to think that after the weekend, and after this, that we're kind of beyond the point of just saying we like to ride bikes together.”

I hum and nod. “We are. And you're right. Sometime, I'd like to talk about all of that. But for now, it's probably getting a little late, and we need to get back to Point before the sun sets.”

“Okay. But let's take our time heading back to post. I'm not exactly in the mood for a sprint back.”

I tug at my pants, pulling them up as the chill wafts over my hips. Laughing softly, I nod in understanding. “I just had a very nice and,” I earnestly declare, looking down and seeing his softening cock, “very big cock inside me. That's not what you want right before a seat post is up your ass, so yeah, I could use an easy ride back too.”

Aaron laughs while I get up and finish pulling my pants up. As he pulls his own pants up and tucks his cock away, he smiles. “Not the way I thought I’d ever have sex while at the Point, but still good.”

“Good?” I ask, and he laughs, startling the birds back into flight at the sound.

“Okay . . . f*cking amazing. Hell, I already want to do it again.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, we are planning to ride this Saturday. Let's see where the bikes take us.”





Chapter 5





Aaron





Sitting in my room, I'm frustrated. Looking at my bank account, I've got all of twelve dollars and thirteen cents left. And it's only the ninth of the month.

What am I supposed to do? Cadets get jack shit for pay, and I blew my entire savings on one weekend in New York. Sure, Lindsey was more than willing to pay for some of it. She paid for her own hotel room and part of the food . . . but especially after yesterday afternoon, how can I fool myself any longer?

She's obviously not just a riding buddy anymore. Hell, this has been the happiest I've been my entire time at the Academy. But . . . twelve dollars and thirteen cents?

I sigh, working on shining my inspection shoes. We've got haircut inspection tomorrow, and I've been keeping my hair at the limits of what the TAC likes. I get the impression that Lindsey likes my hair a little bit longer, but my TAC doesn't. I've already seen him giving me looks, and I'm not a senior, where I could've earned some leeway.

My commanding officer likes the old-school soldier, the Ranger types who wear shaved sides and short, flat tops on their hair. While the regs say I can have hair up to two inches on top and a half-inch on the sides, there's no way in hell he'll let me get away with that. He starts making pointed comments when you can't see scalp anymore on the sides.

My polishing rag moves over the leather of my shoes in wide sweeps, the smell of the Kiwi filling the air. On my desk, I've got a candle burning. I'm one of those guys who thinks that melting the shoe polish helps you get a better gloss than just raw polish, and the scent mixes with the polish just enough to keep it from being nauseating.

“Attention all cadets! There are five minutes until area clean-up formation. The uniform is . . . Army Combat Uniform with belt and canteen! Formation will be held on the division steps. Five minutes remaining!”

Oh, shit. I totally lost track of time. I mean, I've already changed into my ACU pants, but the plebe outside in the hallway, I think it's Carroway, by the leather-lunged sound of him, still catches me by surprise. I've only got my brown t-shirt on, and I get up quickly, rushing over to my bed and pulling on my combat boots. I normally hate wearing my issued field jacket, but I don't have time to dig my warm weather undershirt out of my footlocker . . . to hell with it. I guess I'll wear the jacket and my gloves. For work details, they don't really care about little shit like that.

I get my belt clipped on and at least half a canteen of water, getting downstairs just as this semester's First Sergeant, Mel Riordan, calls everyone to attention. My squad leader glances down the line and we do a quick formation.

After getting the reports, Riordan turns it over to our company XO, Pete Lemmon. “Okay, Devils, you know the deal,” he says, relaxed. “The TACs want us to clean up some of the leaves and snow that hasn't melted away. Our company's been assigned the gap here from the barracks up the back of Bradley, toward the mess hall.”

“Great . . .” someone mutters. “Hey, who's got the shovels?”

“Vince is bringing those from Central Guard Room right now,” Pete says. “He should be here in two or three minutes. In the meantime, platoon leaders, break your people down into . . . hey, what the hell's that?”