Rod cherished the warm water cascading over his face and tried to ignore the soreness on his shoulder. He wanted the water hotter, but it felt like fire on his healing skin. Over the sound of the spray, he could hear faint footfall on the tile floor. He stepped out of the spray. “Whose there?” “Just me.” Rod looked at the shadow on other side of the curtain. “Jon?” “Y-yeah.” “What are you doing in here, Private?” He muttered, “Just um, wondering if you wanted your back washed. There was a lot of gunk on there when we took off the bandages.” Rod tilted his head. Jon was the odd one in his squad, and an idea was solidifying about what exactly made him a bit different. Jon had to know this was dangerous behavior in the military, but he was so young and naive it was more harmless than horny. Rod pushed the curtain back. Jon’s eyes went huge and his cheeks turned bright red. Rod was amused, had he not seen a million men naked in the shower already? And here he was blushing like a schoolgirl. “Normally that’s not the kind of behavior you should show to an Sergeant, son, but I’m itchy enough to take you up on that. My shirt was sticking to all the residue earlier.” Jon was wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. He was trying so hard not to look down. Rod turned and showed his back to Jon to prevent the poor Private from passing out. That would be hard to explain. “Is it really healing?” Rod asked. “It is. Lots of healthy, pink tissue granulation. Scabs aren’t ready to come off yet, but it’s healing.” Rod sighed in relief. “That’s good. It’s still so sore though.” “You probably have some deep bruising in the musculature. Can you pass the soap please?” Rod passed it back. Jon wet the washcloth- and promptly dropped the soap. “Oh god,” he squeaked. “I got it,” Rod said. He squatted down to get the bar of soap and put it on the soap rack on the wall. “Wow,” Jon whispered. “Wow what?” “Um.” Jon stammered. “Just – your back is really muscular. Sir.” Rod tilted his head again. “Jon, are you not like the other boys?” “What? What are you talking about Sir?” “You don’t seem to have a lot of pin ups in your bunk area, Private. Haven’t heard you talk about a girl back home either.” “I’m focusing on my military career, Sir.” Rod smothered a laugh. Oh, Jon had rehearsed that. “Oh, ok, I see.” He dropped the subject. A warm washcloth was pressed to his back. Rod groaned. Jon made slow circles, cleaning off the layers of bandage residue and massaging sore muscles. He washed Rod’s back from top to bottom in methodical circles. Rod let his head droop; this was nice. Why couldn’t he get this every time he showered? “I don’t think you’ll need to have the bandages put back on, Sir. Maybe overnight, to protect it.” “Huh?” Rod said. “I said I think you only need bandages at night now.” “Oh. That’s good,” Rod replied. “What’s the little scar on the back of your neck from?” “My brother threw a toy car at me when I was 6. It was a pick up truck, it had a sharp edge and cut me. Needed three stitches.” Jon giggled. “Naughty. I bet you were cute as a kid.” “I mean, I was. But I was also a troublemaker. I deserved getting that truck thrown at me.” Jon smiled. “Your poor mother.”
“You should ask me what the scar on my arm is from.” “Oh?” Rod turned his arm upside down so Jon could see the flat part of his lower arm. “Oh what is that from? Never seen that before..” “Well, I normally wear sleeves,” Rod explained. Rod didn’t say anything when Jon began to wash his shoulders and arms. “What happened?” Jon asked. “I slipped in the woods, fell, and broke my arm on a rock. They had to do an operation to line up the bones again. I was running away from the cops.” “My goodness, you were a troublemaker, Sergeant. How old were you?” “18. I was running from the cops, because I had gotten caught in a compromising position in a car with another person.” Jon laughed. “Such a troublemaker! Your poor mother indeed.” “You should ask who I got caught with.” “Oh? Why? Who did you get with?” Jon asked. “His name was Gerald. That was the reason I had to join the military.” Jon stopped washing his back. “His?” “Yes.” “Why are you telling me this?” Jon whispered. “Cause I think you’re like me, Jon. I just want to let you know, if you are, I understand.” Jon didn’t say anything. “I don’t know. I might be.” “That’s fine. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. We should get out, we’ve been in here a while.” Rod moved to turn off the water. “No don’t turn around!” Rod startled. “What? Why?” “I’m going to get out first.” There was rising panic in Jon’s voice. Ron heared the shower curtain move. “Are you hard?” “No!” Jon squeaked. Rod snickered “Well, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. But thank you for washing my back. It feels a lot better now. I’m glad to have such fantastic medical staff at this base.” “Happy to provide care for our Sergeants, Sir. Make sure you come back to the infirmary to get a bandage placement for the evening.” “Thank you, Private.”
Rod waited for Jon to get dressed. When he heard the door close, he got out of the shower and changed into some fresh clothes. God, it was so nice that his clothes weren’t sticking to his back anymore. He thought about his conversation and wondered if he had gone too far in revealing personal information. Rod ran a comb through his hair and threw everything into a duffel bag. He left the small bath house and was startled to find Jon waiting for him outside.
“Private. What are you still doing here?” "Um.” Jon scuffed his boot on the ground. “Just wanted to ask. How did you know, that you wanted to be in the car with Gerald, and not with Jenny?” Rod glanced around. They shouldn’t be having this conversation around here. “Well, I didn’t know, but my body did. And the more I listened to my body, the more sense it made.” “Oh,” Jon said. “What does your body tell you?” “I liked washing your back,” Jon whispered. Rod looked Jon in the eyes. “Then let’s do it again shall we?” Jon showed the slightest of smiles. “Ok.”
___________________ Captions are fictional. Let’s see if this gets deleted.
“I’m just gonna grab something one se- …McConnell what the heck are you doing in here?” McConnell looks sheepish. “Well you see,” he points to the cot he’s blocking. “It’s Donahue’s birthday, and he’s sick in bed. We have a shortage of gay porn here, so I’m giving him a dance to entertain him.” McConnell makes a face. “I thought the Marines were supposed to be gayer than us.” He grabbed what he needed from his cot and left. Donahue coughed. “Damn straight they’re gayer than us, and that’s coming from a gay man. Army pride.” McConnell looks at him. “What? Gonna set things…straight around here, I guess. Are you going to finish McConnell?” “You actually want me to keep going?” “Oh fuck yeah I do. You have a nice ass. Keep it up.” “Uh why thank you Donahue. Alright, cue the music!”
“Thanks for coming all the way out here to see me.” We kiss. “You don’t have to thank me. Your smile tells me all I need to know.” That just makes me smile harder. “I’m serious. I know you hate traveling.” “I do, but I came because of that text you sent,” David replies. “Which one?” I ask, rubbing his arm. He’s gotten more muscular since I last saw him. “The one where you were moping about ‘us’. You said you were surrounded by guys talk about how worried about their wives and girlfriends cheating on them, and how they didn’t believe you when you said your boyfriend wouldn’t do that.” I blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to whine about that.” “Don’t be. It’s a legit concern, and it does happen. But I wanted to show you I’m still faithful and I miss the shit out of you. I miss you enough to come all the way out here and see you.” “Oh David,” I murmur. “Oh no don’t cry!” David says, brushing my tears away. “I miss you,” I whisper. I set my mug on the ground and warp my arms around him tight. “I can’t wait until this training thing is over and I get my assignment.” “And where-ever it is, I’ll go.” “Why are you so wonderful?“ I ask, crushing him in a hug. David curls his arm up, and places his hand over my arm across his chest. “Because there is only one of you. I fell in love with you two hours after meeting, you, and I’m not letting you go.”
I lean in, and David kisses me gently. I part, and push back, seeking a long deep connection and losing myself in it. “Fuck,” David breathes after we break. “Do you…do you have time to come back to my hotel?” “I think I have an hour before I have to report,” I reply. “Finish your coffee. We’re going to make it happen.” I grin. “I am so glad you came to visit.” “Me too. I just now noticed how hot you with a boner in uniform….”
“Ok you’re the resident gay guy here right?” I peer up from an issue of GQ. “Uh. Unofficially I suppose since Campy Steve transferred. If you’re going to ask me if your dick is the wrong size, don’t bother. Your dick is fine as it is.” I return my attention to the article on handmade boots when he pipes up again. “No no not that…it’s my ass.” “What about your ass?” I tilt my head. “I just wanna know if it’s flat. I was looking in the mirror and it has like, no definition. My sister says men should have a butt because it implies they’re masculine, and I’ve become self conscious about it.” Well, I’ve spent enough time secretly eye-fucking him, I should be able to write him an essay on his ass. Instead I non-nonchalantly pop my gum and respond, “You need to get your pants tailored. They sag in the back and I can’t see your ass at all. Tailored clothes are the trick to lookin’ good.”
I was expecting a perky response and the subject to be dropped. Art Pearson was quiet for a moment so I try to find where I left off for the second time. Just when I locate the paragraph, I hear the rustle of fabric.
“Ok what about now? Just tell me if it’s flat."My jaw drops and my gum falls onto my lap. My roommate was standing by the window with his pants around his thighs like a little boy at a urinal. Ok, everything I suspected about his ass was wrong. How had navy wool hid such a soft bubble butt from me for four months? It was lovely, the curve, the tone, how it was perched on his solid thighs. The apricot flesh was warm and dotted with freckles. It wasn’t the ass of a boot-camp hardened sailor and gym rat. It was the ass of a man that participated in boot-camp for a career in administration so he’d always have a reliable source of income to fund a ravenous appetite for romance novels and eating after-dinner chocolates snuggled under a plush blanket. The urge to squeeze it is overwhelming. The words will not come out of my mouth; I have to pull my knees up to hide a half hard erection.
"You’re not saying anything,” Pearson laments. “Is it that bad huh? You can’t even find it can you?” I put my gum back in my mouth, “No it’s uh… ok now do I say this? If you were my boyfriend, you’d never be allowed pants in the house.” Pearson glances over at his shoulder, “…Really?” “Oh yeah your ass is flawless. Please put your pants up you’re giving me an erection.”
Blush spreads on his cheeks, the flattery all over his face. “My ass is turning you on?” he gasps.I shut my magazine and shove it over my lap. “Yes! Dammit, stop that.” Art drops his hands and bends over to pull up his pants, in the process flashing just a peek of his balls at me. I suppress a groan. He doesn’t even notice and says with a casual air, “I suppose being given a compliment by a gay man is the highest compliment I could have received on my butt.” I rub my jaw and jest. “I don’t know if we can continue being roommates now with you knowin’ my secret weakness for cute asses ‘n’ all.” Art considers this. “Well now I’m curious about what you think of my package too…”
I am so close to throwing the magazine at his head. His innocence is making me crazy. How has he survived the machismo-heavy Navy mentality? “Art if you show me your cock I’m going to want to touch it,” I warn. “I’ve had a crush on you for like forever, and if you’re straight I don’t think it’s a good idea to bait me like that.”
Pearson just stares at me. I think I broke his brain. I know zilch about his sexuality or his type – he’s a bookworm, not a Chatty Kathy – so my default hunch is that he’s hetero. Assuming anything else in this barrack is a terrible idea. “Art…” I begin, but he interrupts me.
“Well…I was just thinking, in an abstract sort of way,” he says, considering each word. “If you’re a gay man, you know your way around the male body pretty well…” Oh dear god, I’m in a real live porno. “…so in theory wouldn’t you give better handjobs than a chick? Cause all the girls I’ve done them with have given me rug burns and blue balls.” Cue the bow-chicka-bow-wow music. “Um.” My brain is refusing to participate in providing in an articulate answer. Little did I know, Art had been wondering such a thing since he found out about my preference for my own gender and was excited to have found a chance to bring it up in a discussion. “I’m sorry that was weird, forgot I said anything,” Art murmurs, reacting to my underwhelming response. He motions he’s about to button up his pants. “No no! I just…all the blood is no longer in my brain Pearson, Christ, I feel like I just fell down the rabbit hole. Lock the door and get over here. I’m going to give you a special foray into my talents as a gay man and give that neglected ass some long needed attention.” I instruct before pausing, “If this is some sort of bizarre wet dream I just hope it lasts.”
Art holds up his britches while scooting over to secure the door, “No it’s not a dream…but it’s exciting isn’t it? My first gay experience as a straight man…” “Honey I’m pretty sure your Kinsey rating is an even number.” He blinks at me. “My what now?” I toss the magazine onto the nightstand and pull out the bottle of massage oil slash lube. “Oh Art,…I am going to be the best thing to ever happen to you. Now come here, I’m going to rock your world.”
