It’s not easy to come together, but this time we did. I smirk to myself. Now that’s what I call agoodfuck.
Slowly, I pull out of his ass.
The condom’s full of cum. And I meanfull. I slide it off, holding it up so Sun can see it. Shit, there’s probably a glassfulin there. I haven’t come like this in ages. Lately, it’s just been jerking off to porn. Damn, I missed this.
My eyes fix on his stretched-out hole, which gapes at me. A very welcome view. He looks thoroughly fucked, barely able to stand. His fingers are still gripping the faucet. But he’s not looking at me.
I take a step back. He stays in the same position, bent over, ass out, that raw, open hole of his still pointing right at me. I feel a flicker in my groin but force myself to stay calm. I wait for his reaction. Wait for him to say something, anything.
Then I see something strange.
He lowers his head, and a subtle shiver runs down his back and across his perfect, long neck, where the gold collar gleams. For a moment, I don’t get it.
But then it hits me.
The guy’s crying! No fucking way.
That’s a first!
Making someone cry from sex.Notexactly my dream scenario.
I stand there like an idiot, no clue what to do. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. I’ve never had to deal with anyone’s more… complicated feelings. The army was my whole life, and my love. The platoon buddies I fucked? None of them expectedcuddles and supportafterward.
I don’t even know if I’m the kind of guy who’s cut out for close relationships. I’m different. People would have a hard time accepting what I really am, especially if they saw me fully shifted. Not many people could handle that. So, why even try?
"Did something happen?" I finally manage. "Are you hurt? In pain?"
It sounds stiff. Clinical. But it’s my best try at being polite.
"No, I’m not hurt," he says flatly.
I don’t know what else to say. Let’s be honest: I don’t even know who this kid is. Not a clue about his past. None of us came to this fortress for romance. And my head can’t be on the lookout for that, that’s for sure.
Sex? Okay, I can handle that. But this is crossing into intimacy territory, and that’s not the right moment, not during a mission.
So why do I feel like a total asshole the longer the silence stretches?
Finally, I can’t take it. I curse under my breath and straighten up. I won’t get sucked into this. There’s already too much shit going on.
He straightens up too, runs his fingers through his hair in a nervous, twitchy motion, then turns toward me, and his eyes are red and wet.
Fuck. Not good. But he wanted the sex, begged for it! Why the hell should I feel guilty over whatever emotional struggle he’s having?
"Then what’s the problem?" I ask, just as flat.
"Forget it. You don’t need to care," he mutters, looking away.
And yet I care, somehow. Though I don’t show it. And I feel him—how odd… This deep, gnawing unhappiness coming off him like a shock to my nervous system. I’ve never picked up someone else’s emotions this clearly before.
This kid feels… wrecked.
What should I do now, rush away? Not a word?
God, I know this part all too well. Back at the base, after every hookup in a storage room, there was always that awkward silence. None of us knew what to say. We’d just split and go our separate ways.
Is this what he wants?
The kid runs his fingers through his hair again, rubs his jaw, flexes and unflexes his fingers; these little fidgety movements make it clear how lost he is. I watch them in silence.
