fredbassett

“Ow!”

“Stop whinging! If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t doing you any good.”

“Lyle, if I’d wanted beating up, I would have said so. I asked for a back rub. So why are you driving your thumbs through my spine?”

The soldier made an amused noise in the back of his throat and the sound went straight to Lester’s groin. He shifted uncomfortably, hoping Lyle wouldn’t notice.

He wanted sleep, he desperately needed sleep, but he was still too afraid to let the darkness claim him. Even with Lyle still there. So he was trying to spin this out as long as possible. And he had to admit that he honestly didn’t know how far Lyle was prepared to go with this flirtation. Or whether he’d even stay through the night.

The other man’s hands tracked gently down his back and came to rest on his hips. Long fingers slid round to his hipbones and strong thumbs grazed his arse.

“You need sleep,” Lyle told him, stating what was once famously described as the bleedin’ obvious.

Then, in one swiftly inescapable series of movements, the lieutenant had lifted him up, flipped him over, tugged the quilt out from underneath them and settled him down again, on his back this time, head pillowed comfortably on the other man’s shoulder with the quilt tucked up round the pair of them.

Damn, this guy’s good. 

Maybe the million pounds the MOD claimed it took to train one Special Forces soldier weren’t being wasted after all. He’d send a memo to the Minister supporting their next budget claims, or rather budget demands, if he remembered. Better still, he’d get his secretary to send one.

The only downside to the current arrangement was the fact that Lyle was still wearing jeans and a tee shirt. All he’d removed so far had been his boots.

Lester wanted to close his eyes but still refused to succumb to the inevitable.  He was also very, very conscious of the fact that Lyle’s right hand was resting on his stomach, about an inch away from his erect cock.

“You’re going to have to tell me what to do,” said Lyle. “I’m a virgin, you know.”

You’re a shameless bloody flirt, I know that much.

“Do you wank, Lyle?”

“Course I do.” The soldier sounded surprised to be asked. “Everybody does. There are only two types of men, my old sergeant used to say, wankers and liars.”

Lester sighed. “Then you do know what to do. The technique’s identical.”

He couldn’t decide whether the best thing to do was to leave Lyle alone to get on with it in his own time, or to take a more active part in the soldier’s same-sex education. He also couldn’t decide whether or not to try and divest the man of some clothing.

Sod it.

This was getting more complicated than he felt capable of handling right now.

Without warning Lyle slipped out of bed, turned on the bathroom light, and half closed the door. Once the rest of the lights had been killed, the faint glow from the bathroom cast a warm and welcome golden haze into the darkness.

Dear God, he’s shy!

A second later, the tee shirt was chucked unceremoniously onto the floor and socks closely followed it.

Lester tried to keep the relief off his face. At least he wouldn’t have to put up with socks in bed.  That really would have been too much.

Come on, Lyle, lose the jeans. You can’t be that bloody shy!

Looking as self-conscious as a teenager on a first date, Lyle unzipped his jeans and pushed them and his pants down at the same time then slid quickly back into the bed and offered his shoulder as a pillow again.

Lester settled himself down comfortably in the crook of Lyle’s arm. The room was warmer than the Devil’s Crowll had been, the bed was more comfortable and there were less monsters.  And less mud.  Less mud was always a good thing.

He felt a hand slide down over his stomach. Tentative. Very, very tentative.

His heart rate started to rise. Christ, he hadn’t felt this nervous facing the bloody mastodonsaurus.

The hand reached its destination and slowly encircled his cock. And then started to stroke.

Slowly. Carefully.

Lester’s first thought was, Shit, this is going to take all night, and his second was, Oh fuck, that feels good.

His hips rose suddenly to meet Lyle’s strokes and the soldier’s hand tightened in response.

Lester thrust once, twice, three times, then he came, panting and surprised, his head buried in Lyle’s chest.

A moment late, he felt a warm sticky hand on his shoulder and Lyle said, “Sorry, I suspect that wasn’t quite what you wanted.”

Lester’s quiet laughter was breathless and more than a little shaky. “I normally last longer than that, but it was exactly what I wanted.”

And needed.

Lyle’s arms tightened round him. “Good. Now for fuck’s sake go to sleep.”