Date: Mon, 30 Dec 2002 12:28:36 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: gay/military/my-marine-4

DISCLAIMER
==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2002 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to
psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit
my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002


I was utterly bored. Slicked up in Brioni and my favourite Bruno Maglis,
dragged kicking and screaming to the latest gala, I found myself
daydreaming instead of schmoozing with society as my parents expected.
Entrenched firmly in my old life again since my return, I had been tossed
into the neverending rounds of society functions, auctions and charity
dinners for multiple diseases from Cystis Fibrosis to Glaucoma. It was
times like this that it was easy to remember a dark, handsome stranger
dragging me down in the dusty confines of a shadowy cabin, his calloused
hands running down my back, his clever lips burning a path down my bare
chest. Imagine my hands trailing down his taut, lightly-furred six-pack
to unclasp his belt, ruffling the dark line of hair that led inexorably
down to my destination. The memory had me smiling to myself as I recalled
a certain Marine. He'd certainly lived up to my expectations.

"Cam Kincaid! I didn't expect to see you back for the next six months at
least."

Turning at the sound of the familiar voice, I reined in my runaway glands
and managed a smile. It was my best friend. Dressed to kill in a dress
that made men thank God women were placed on earth and stiletto-sharp
heels that were guaranteed to walk all over any man who dared do more
than look, Lady Cassandra Milton flashed a seductive smile that was sure
to make half the men in the room burn with lust. The picture of the
perfect English rose with the prerequisite ivory smooth skin, the
burnished golden locks and eyes the colour of spring leaf, she managed to
fool most men into thinking that she didn't have any thorns. Most men
woke up much later, older and wiser with the knowledge that Cassandra was
no fragile blossom.

Thank God she was there to alleviate my boredom. Since I had been back
from Afghanistan for the past month, I had been plunged into the social
whirl that my family was a part of - an endless stream of parties and
embassy balls. Diamonds and thousand-dollar suits. Caviar and champagne.
In all honesty, I would have preferred to have my tooth extracted. With a
hammer and chisel.

It was the little things such as this that kept me sane. The daughter of
the British ambassador and the owner of a chic boutique downtown, Cass
had bumped into me when we were both trying to gain the attentions of a
certain dark-haired, sexy Middle Eastern stallion who had strolled into
the embassy ball. Ironically enough, we both struck out - it seems that
the man was far more interested in horny jailbait. But we commiserated
over margaritas and struck up a friendship.

"Back so soon?" Cassandra gave me a teasing smile, her deliciously green
eyes twinkling. "Aren't you still grubbing with the sad lil plebeians in
some God-forsaken wilderness?"

It reminded me of the stunned look on her face when I told her of my
latest escapade into Afghanistan. The very idea that I would forsake my
glam life in the city for a tacky mission in Afghanistan was simply
mind-boggling for her. Cass' idea of charity was indulging in silent
auctions and the occasional charity dinners for worthy causes. "You're
one to speak. Weren't you grubbing with some oily Italian count? Count
Macaroni?"

"Quite as limp as one too unfortunately." She pouted delicately and
played with her glass of champagne. "Not much of a loss though since it
turns out he was more into grubbing with oily young Italian boys. More
your type actually."

Since the count had grabbed my ass once - claiming it to be an accident,
I had not expected anything less. "A pity. And thanks for the
compliment."

"Too true." She smiled. "So tell me, what did you gain from tramping in
the dust apart from another Times Magazine article? If I didn't know
better, I'd have thought that you had plans to run for office."

It was at the tip of my tongue to pour out my troubles to her. However at
this point in time, I wondered if I actually had anything to tell her.
After that one night, the Marines had literally come to our rescue and
we'd remained apart since then, not trading bodily fluids as I'd wished
for but exchanging civil pleasantries and shop talk instead. It was as if
that particular night had been a delicious figment of my fevered
imaginations. If not for the fact that I was damned sore from the waist
down with rugburn on my ass, I'd have thought that nothing untoward had
happened.

Returning to his plastic Marine Ken persona, Muldoon had remained
perfectly civil throughout our return - even till he waved a farewell at
the airport in Islamabad. His sculpted features betrayed none of his
emotions and I marvelled at his ice-cool control when I practically had
dig my nails intp my hands to keep from jumping him in the airport.
Before he'd turned to leave with his crew, I'd palmed a list of numbers
into his hand - a list of my contact numbers and address. I would have
been simple for him to look it up but just in case... There had been no
word from him since. Damn him anyway.

The past few days, I had tried to forget him but I found it more
difficult than I thought it would be. Fool that I was, I hadn't learnt
not to play with fire - especially fire that came in the form of sexy
dark-haired straight men. There was no doubt that Muldoon had forgotten
all about me, probably dismissed the other night as a means to get his
rocks off with the homo. One night certainly couldn't reconfigure a man's
sexual leanings in such a radical manner. Although I tried to reason it
out as any other man would - as just a casual, no-strings-attached
one-night-stand, I found that I couldn't. It had certainly been more than
just a night of raw, animalistic sex for me since I believed that I had
felt more that night than with any other man before him. My logical mind
dismissed the fanciful idea that I could possibly fall in love with
someone in barely a day but I found that I couldn't totally refute the
idea. Given some time and effort, I believe that Michael Muldoon could
truly be a man that I could love. Definitely a keeper.

Unfortunately, the man refused to be kept. So it was with perfect honesty
that I could reply calmly, "Run for office? God forbid. But seriously,
nothing much happened actually. It wasn't -"

"Good God. Let me have a look at your face." There was a reason why
Cassie was my best friend and it took only the whisper of a sigh for her
to notice. A quick glance at my face was answer enough for her. "Oh my
God, how the mighty have fallen. I never knew I'd live to see this day."

Although it was obvious what she meant, I tried stalling as I searched
for an explanation. "I don't know what you're talking about. Have you
been drinking too much of the punch again?"

"Darling, you never could lie to me." She tipped my face towards the
light and smiled like the cat who got the cream. "That look on your face.
You definitely have got it bad. Who is he?"

Her voice carried and a quarter of the well-heeled guests turned around,
perking up with interest at the recent development. Giving her a glare, I
took her arm and forcibly dragged her towards the nearest secluded
alcove. It was one of Cassie's hidden gifts that she somehow found dark
corners for her assignations in every building in the city. Taking a
roundabout route, she directed me towards a dimly lit balcony at the edge
of the ballroom, shaded by a fall of thick curtains.

Quickly shoving her out, I blocked off the entrance to the balcony and
stared her down. "Okay, dammit. How did you know?"

"Such a public display of emotion!" Strolling down to the end of the
balcony, Lady Cass leaned on the railings and rearranged her blond curls
into a knot. It was a warm night with only an occasional breeze which
pleased her. "You had better watch out or you might have the guests
thinking that you've turned straight, Cam."

Leaning with my back against the door, I folded my arms and frowned.
"Haha."

My sarcastic reply had her raising one dark brow. "Sweetheart, that look
on your face could only mean a man since it could hardly be a woman,
could it? And the man who could make Dr. Cam Kincaid sigh has to be quite
a man." As I carefully pieced together an explanation that would satisfy
her, a shade of confusion came over her fair features. "Good God, never
tell me you fell for some hot, indecent Afghani rebel. Sounds lovely on
bodice-rippers but it never works, darling, believe me."

"Close but no dice. He is all American." It certainly wouldn't have been
prudent to spread his name about since the man was undoubtedly still in
the closet.

"Yum," she purred softly. Her tongue reached out to lap her soft red
lips, a seductive move that was lost on gay old me. "Grade A American
beef, as you would put it?"

"Choice meat." I grinned agreeably. "But more than that, he has a brain."

"So, why aren't you tying him up on your bed and spreading whipped cream
on him now?" Cassie said curiously.

For a moment, I remained silent. As usual, she had hit the nail on the
head. After all, I had imagined earlier that whipped cream on hot male
Marine would be present on my menu for the next few weeks following my
return. However after that one night, Michael had retreated into some
impenetrable shell. Who knows what had happened to him? I replied with a
shrug. "I don't know. I think he might not be gay. Or even if he was, he
is so deeply closeted, I doubt he could fight his way free."

She snorted, a particularly unladylike snort. "Please. You could turn any
man gay."

"How I wish." I laughed, trying hopelessly to inject some humour into the
story.

"Oh, poor baby. Don't tell me you've gone and fallen for him." Leaving
her glass on the banister, Cassie moved forward with a sigh and plced a
conforting hand on my shoulder. "I knew that when it was your time to
fall, you'd go down with quite a bang."

"And what a bang that was!" I kidded with a chuckle. Unable to look at
the concerned expression on her face, I turned away and stared out the
balcony. The flickering lights of downtown DC flashed like diamonds on
dark satin and I wondered where Michael Muldoon was at this moment. "Yes,
I think he might just be the one for me. God, I sound like one of those
stupid lovesick fellows mooning over their lost loves. Unfortunately for
me, I think that all the love and romance is entirely on my side, I
seriously doubt he thinks of it as anything more than a quick, satisfying
fuck in the desert."

"Then it is his loss then." Coming up behind me, she pulled me close and
gave me a warm hug. "You're a great loony guy and he just doesn't know
what he's missing."

Glad to have her close, I reached up and gave her hand a warm squeeze.
"You're right, Cass."

"And there are plenty of big fish out there in the sea."

The cliched saying had me smiling. "The ones that you haven't taken a
bite out of."

My whispered comments had her giggling. "Come, enough moping around,"
Cassie said with a teasing smile as she edged towards the open doorway.
Drawing the curtains aside, she peeked at the party guests. "It is time
you had some rebound sex. Nothing better than a hot 12-inch dick banging
away to take your mind off some sorry little affair."

Bristling slightly at the affair bit, I started to give a quick retort
but thought better. After all, it probably had been just that. A lil
affair. It had been weeks since I'd left Kandahar and I had to deal with
the fact that Muldoon certainly had no plans on calling. For all I knew,
he had already picked up from where he left off with some buxom blonde
named Betty Sue back in the country. It was time to look out for Number
1.

Her green eyes widened. "Oh, my. Would you look at that? A big spermwhale
just swam right in!"

Looking at Cassandra keeping an eye out for the local eye-candy had me
smiling appreciatively. The spectacle of the tall, refined,
fragile-looking blonde aristocrat dressed up in Versace and killer heels
ogling the hapless gentlemen made quite a sight. Wonder what her
illustrious ancestors would make of her. Getting into the spirit of
things, I leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "Who?"

Gesturing with the tip of her finger, she pointed him out. "The broad
shouldered stud with black hair and the incredibly cute tush."

Hoping to meet some new meat by following her directions, I encountered
deja vu instead. As usual, Cassie's tastes were impeccable. Some serious
male eye candy stood barely fifty feet away. Clad in black trousers, the
man had to have the greatest ass a man could ever have. It had to be only
one man. No one else could lay claim to that ass.

"God, am I drooling here?" Cassie raised an elegantly drawn brow. "Yum.
Yum. Wouldn't I love to have that spread on my cracker?"

Her words were a blur to me as I continued staring, drinking in the image
of the handsome figure dressed up in black. For a moment, I couldn't
believe my eyes. My macho kick-ass marine dolled up in a tux,
clean-shaven and playing nice. And didn't he clean up real nice too. I
was right. Beneath that dirty stubble, he looked younger - an early to
mid twenties at the most, sexier, smarter and damned, even more like an
A&F commercial. My scruffy Marine Ken had turned into some superstud
dreamboat Ken. All dressed in black, that amazing golden skin, those blue
eyes, that smile.