Feral

by Teagan Kade

  She slaps my chest. “You’re incorrigible, you know.”

  I pull her closer. “But you love it.”

  “Say it again.”

  “You love it?”

  “No,” she laughs, “the ‘P’ word.”

  “Pussy,” I purr, grinding my cock up against the front of her panties. “Say ‘cock.’”

  “Cock,” she stammers, instantly blushing.

  “Say ‘I want your cock, Payton.’”

  Her eyes glint with newfound mischief. “I want your big, hard cock, Payton.”

  I roll her underneath me, reaching down to tug her panties away. “And you’re going to get it.”

  *

  Given our rather audible meeting last night, we’re harassed in the cafeteria. Lacey’s so embarrassed she can barely make eye contact with the others, but I manage to tone them down a little, move the conversation onto something other than our sudden sexual awakening.

  I lift a spoonful of scrambled eggs to my mouth. I need all the damn energy I can get after last night. “Where’d you say you’re from again, Hernandez?”

  “Bell Gardens, Cali-fucking-fornia,” he replies.

  “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

  He dips his head. “Well, it has either serving tacos or serving cards in the casino, neither of which are going to save any lives now, are they?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I reply. “I’ve had some damn fine tacos in my time.”

  Hernandez’s eyes roll to Lacey. “I bet you have.”

  Lacey shakes her head at him. “Are you seriously calling my vagina a taco right now?”

  That shuts Hernandez up. “Call it whatever you want—honey pot, pink canoe, potorro. I don’t mind.”

  She shrugs. “I’ve always been fond of ‘cock socket’ myself.”

  There’s a moment of shock before everyone bursts into laughter.

  “You’re full of surprises, Miracle,” says Hernandez, returning to his food.

  “And have I got a surprise for you, Hernandez.”

  It’s the Captain, who’s somehow materialized from thin air once again. I’m starting to think he’s the Predator. “Guess what it involves?” he continues.

  “Ice cream?” offers Jackson.

  A malevolent smile cuts across the Captain’s face. “If by ‘ice cream’ you mean ‘stairs,’ you’re one-hundred-percent correct, King. Now, clear up your trays and get your asses over to the Tower. It’s a fine day for ass-kicking.”

  We all stand up reluctantly as the Captain drifts off to rouse up the other class members, Hernandez jerking off to his back.

  I see Fielding as I get up to clear our trays. He’s sitting with his usual cohort, but he’s not engaged in the conversation. No, he’s looking right at Lacey, looking at her with such intensity I’m expecting lasers to burst from his eyes. I’ve seen that look before—on the field, in bar fights. I’ve seen it and know that nothing good comes from it.

  But that doesn’t matter now. Lacey’s mine and I’m not going to let anything happen to her. He wants to try something? Bring it the fuck on.

  *

  We’re standing outside, the sun directly overhead. I can feel the heat of the quad through my shoes. And, what do you know, the Captain’s smiling. “By now you understand the meaning of respect, how a chain of command works, a hose from an axe, but we’ve got a long way to go, recruits, and it starts today with a twelve-mile run down the road.”

  “I thought you said something about stairs?” says Hernandez.

  The Captain nods. “I changed my mind… Unless you’d rather do something else, like, I don’t know, run a charged two-and-a-half up and down the Tower all day.”

  Cue a collective groan.

  That straightens us out. “No, Captain,” we reply.

  He cups his ear. “Sorry, I must have turned my hearing aid off. What was that?”

  “No, Captain!” we shout back.

  The road leading out from Pemberton is arrow-straight—nothing but mindless desert for miles.

  I thank god I’ve got Lacey’s ass for entertainment. She even turns around when we’re at the six-mile marker and blows me a kiss, her eyes flicking down to my crotch. I let my eyebrows jump in response.

  Hernandez speeds up behind me to speak in my ear. “You’re one lucky motherfucker, Cox.”

  “I know.”

  The Captain calls for a rest stop. I collapse beside Lacey looking up into a periwinkle sky. “So. Much. Damn. Running.”

  She shoves her water bottle into my chest. “What? Can’t handle the heat?”

  I lift myself into a sitting position. “Oh, I can handle it. I’ve been handling you pretty well, haven’t I?”

  She looks around, sitting on the ground with her knees up.

  Her cheeks are red.

  She reaches down and pulls the crotch of her running shorts aside.

  She’s not wearing anything underneath.

  “I’m wet,” she whispers.

  I look around, but everyone’s either collapsed, possibly dead, or not paying attention. Given the way she’s facing me, they wouldn’t be able to see anything anyhow.

  But what she does next completely blows my mind.

  Grinning, one hand holding her shorts aside, she slips a finger into herself, curling it upwards before drawing it back out.

  I almost have a fucking heart attack.

  I jump when the Captain calls us. “Nelson. Cox. Take the lead. We’re heading back.”

  The crotch of her shorts snaps back into position. “Yes, Captain,” she shouts back, still smirking at me.

  “You’re a naughty girl,” I tell her, helping her to her feet. I put my lips close to her ear. “But damn that is one beautiful pussy.”

  She goes to push me on. “Get running. It’s time I got a little eye candy for once.”

  I start to jog away, emphasizing my strides so my ass cheeks bounce. “How’s this?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LACEY

  It’s a scorcher outside, the kind of dry heat that burns your nostrils and turns your skin to paper. The Captain doesn’t seem to mind, still donning his black shirt, cap, and Aviators. He looks us over. “So, you’re already in Hell, but I want to welcome you to the Graveyard.”

  The area we’re in is full of mangled car wrecks, including what appears to be half an old school bus further down the back. Tools are laid out between us and the Captain.

  “It’s no secret that attending MVAs, or Motor Vehicle Accidents, is going to be the bulk of your workload should, God willing, you make it out of here. Thus, entrapment and extrication training.”

  What follows is a detailed lesson showing us every possible way to extract someone from a wreck, whether that be cutting off the door, the roof, right down to amputation. The dummies are unnervingly lifelike, but I figure I better get used to it if I want to make this a career.

  The Captain’s watching as I work on a wreck. “Nelson,” he barks. “Grab the jaws there. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  The hydraulic-powered jaws of life look like something out of a doomsday movie, a special apparatus used to pry apart metal. I pick the thing up, all twenty-five pounds of it, and slam the nose between the door and car’s B-pillar, adding pressure to the handle to get the ‘jaws’ to separate.

  “Easy now,” says the Captain, watching on. “They don’t call it the StrongArm for nothing.”

  I’m just thinking about all the times I could have used this thing when I locked my keys in the car.

  The door separates like a tin can, two of my classmates moving in to extricate the body.

  The Captain claps his hands together, jumping up onto the roof of the wreck. “You’re a damn natural, Nelson. If you can sort the small-spaces thing, you’ll be set.”

  Payton takes the jaws of life from me, placing them back down in the row of tools. “I can’t tell you how turned on I am right now. Seeing a hot girl wield a big apparatus like that…”

&
nbsp; “I wield yours just fine, don’t I?” I wink, shaking my ass a bit as I make my way over to a series of pipes and plumbing bits stuffed with fake fingers, hands, and arms.

  Hernandez is working on what appears to be a thumb stuck in a short length of copper piping.

  The instructor there’s shaking his head. “Jesus, Hernandez. The poor bastard wants his thumb back, not a fucking microwave meal.”

  Jackson picks up another pipe, looking through it at us. “You guys think a dick would fit in here?”

  “Yours, maybe,” laughs Payton. “You’d need a fucking sewer pipe for mine.”

  The instructor overhears him. “Pretty apt considering the filth it’s been in, Cox.”

  I pick up a rubber foot with a giant nail through it. “Charming.”

  I select a pair of pliers and turn the foot in my hand, try to work out the best way to go about this. I should really have been studying this last night—not sexing it up with Payton to all hours.

  But it was worth it, wasn’t it?

  The warmth between my legs says ‘yes.’

  Of course, it’s not the only reason I’m tired. I don’t think Payton even realized I left.

  “How do you feel about another road trip tonight?” he asks, waving half an arm at me.

  “I won’t be going anywhere with you if you keep waving that thing around in my face.”

  He smiles, cheeky as ever. “That’s not what you said last night.”

  “One night and you think I’m a pushover.”

  Jackson drops the pipe he was holding. “Whoa, overshare much?”

  “You’re just jealous, King,” says Payton.

  He shrugs, playing with the finger in the pipe. “I’ve got a jar of vaseline and a vintage Playboy collection to keep me going.”

  Payton’s eyes bulge. “Now that is too much information.”

  I’m laughing, but it’s cut short when I see Ryan approach the table of body parts. He stands opposite me.

  I feel Payton tense. “Why don’t you find something else to work on?” he suggests.

  Ryan puckers his lips, blowing me a kiss. “Like this pretty piece of pussy here, you mean? I could work on her all night long.”

  The instructor hears him. “Fielding, get your ass down to the end of the table.”

  Ryan licks his lips, picking up a pipe and bringing it to his crotch, his hips gyrating against it. He’s still looking at me. “Let me know when you’re ready to step up to a real man.”

  Payton starts forward, but I place my hands on his chest. “Let it go.”

  “Did you hear what that fucker said?”

  “He’s not worth it. Think, am I with him or you?”

  That seems to calm him down, but for the next hour it’s an awkward game of eye tennis between the two of them. I’m pretty sure the table’s going to combust if they stare at each other any harder.

  Like there isn’t enough combustible material in this place already.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  PAYTON

  “Keep your breathing even,” I tell the closet door. “Yes, nice and deep now.”

  I can’t believe Mom’s psycho-babble bullshit is coming in useful.

  I check the stopwatch on my cell. “Five minutes. You’re crushing this.”

  Not the best choice of words for someone trying to overcome claustrophobia, dickhead.

  “Killing this,” I correct, noting that isn’t much better.

  I’m standing there shaking my head at myself when there’s a knock from the inside of the closet. I slide the door across, a flustered, hard-breathing Lacey staring back.

  “Five minutes thirty seconds,” I tell her. “That’s a new record.”

  “Let’s do it again.”

  I slide my cell into my pants pocket and press her against the back of the closet. “I reach down and cup her crotch through her jeans, lightly kneading her pussy. To which ‘it’ are you referring?”

  Her hands splay against the back of the closet, her eyes shuttering closed.

  The bell sounds for the start of class.

  Perfect fucking timing.

  “Let’s skip class,” I whisper. “I’ve got some training of my own I’d like to show you.”

  She pushes me back smiling. “I’m as horny as you are right now, trust me, but it’s the Tower today.”

  I look down. “And what about the tower in my pants?”

  She pats it gently. “That tower’s not going anywhere.”

  She slips past me and swings her bedroom door open. “You coming?”

  “I will be later.” I wink, heading out into the hallway.

  Hernandez whistles behind us. “If it isn’t the campus lovebirds.”

  I flip him a bird of a different kind. “It’s all good, Hernandez. You’ve got King to keep you warm at night?”

  He laughs. “Fuck you, Cox.”

  I put my arms out. “Join the queue.”

  The Captain seems in a particularly chirpy mood when we arrive outside.

  The sky’s been scrubbed clean of clouds, bright and bold blue above. We’re geared up—full PPE and BA equipment for today’s exercise.

  As the Captain runs through today’s training, I understand why he’s smiling. “In partners, you’re going to take a charged hose and run it to the very top of the Tower, whereby you’ll extinguish the fire on the roof.

  My muscles are aching already thinking about dragging a fully charged hose up those fucking stairs.

  To add a measure of realism, smoke machines at the base of the tower are working overtime, filling the structure with smoke.

  The Captain’s eyes find me. “Cox, you seem bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today. You and Nelson show these dipshits how it’s done.”

  “Yes, sir, Captain,” I reply, pulling on my mask and lining up with Lacey, the hose cradled between us.

  The Captain takes out his stopwatch. “Go!”

  We run off towards the stairwell—well, as much as you can run with eighty pounds of gear and a fully charged hose.

  And I’m not talking about my cock.

  Lacey and I work seamlessly now, bringing the hose quickly to the roof where a group of pallets has been set alight, an instructor standing watch.

  We kneel. I take up the front, opening up the hose and dousing the flames, both of us struggling against the pressure of it.

  Fire extinguished, we take up the hose and begin descending down the stairwell.

  Halfway down, I can’t take it anymore.

  I drop the hose and take Lacey’s shoulder, spinning her up against the wall, smoke wafting between us.

  Even screwed up behind her mask, her face looks fucking adorable. “What are you doing?” she asks.

  I reply by slipping my hand down the front of her bunker pants and pulling her panties aside.

  Her eyes go wide. “Payton!”

  “I want you to come,” I tell her, my breath fogging up the front of my mask.

  “Here?” she asks with alarm.

  “Right here,” I reply, my fingers finding her wetness, two sliding into her slick channel of her sex. My thumb presses up against her clit.

  Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t protest.

  The windows along the stairwell are open. We’re barely shielded away here, not forgetting the instructor up on top, but the smoke’s providing enough cover for now.

  I add more pressure with my thumb, watching her expression shift, the pleasure sink in.

  She starts to moan, muffled against the mask, her breathing low and deep as I fuck her with my fingers. They move easily into the heat and wetness there, the pad of my thumb rubbing her clit rhythmically.

  Her eyes close and she begins to buck against my hand, levering off the wall to take more of my fingers inside. Her hands reach up and grip my shoulders, dig hard into the bone there through my jacket.

  “Come,” I command. “I want you to come right fucking here.”

  She’s panting hard, her mask turning cloudy, her entire b
ody lifting up and down. Her cheeks are flushed, her arousal dripping down my hand.

  I press my mask against hers and scoop up her desire with my thumb, spreading it over her clit until she’s twitching and jerking on the spot, close to letting go completely.

  “Come,” I repeat. “Come all over my fucking fingers.”

  She freezes, eyes wide before she gives over completely, her orgasm forcing her pussy to clamp tight around my fingers. Her clit pulses under the pad of my thumb, her hips bucking forward like someone’s pressing a cattle-prod against her ass.

  Her eyes are glassy when they open, her breathing starting to regulate itself once more.

  I pick up the hose. “Can you walk?”

  She rolls her eyes and reaches down.

  We make it out and place the hose down near the Captain, both of us bent over from the effort.

  The Captain looks down at his stopwatch. “Well, that was a pitiful fucking effort, you two. What were you doing up there? Stopped off for tea and biscuits? Admiring the view?”

  I smile in Lacey’s direction, her cheeks are still flushed, strands of hair matted to her face. “Sorry, Captain,” she says, her words rushed. “We got held up.”

  I struggle to contain myself.

  I suppose that’s one way to put it.

  The Captain simply shakes his head. “Hernandez, Sax… Show these two assclowns how it’s done.”

  The Captain notices the gauge on Lacey’s tank as she slings it off. “Jesus H, Nelson. Where’d all your air go?”

  I actually have to turn away lest I lose it completely.

  She swallows, struggling herself. “I, uh,” she stammers, “was having trouble controlling my breathing, Captain.”

  I start to snigger.

  The Captain takes off his cap, running his hand through his hair. “You better work it out, Nelson. We’re not scuba diving here. We’re saving lives.”

  I lean over to Lacey’s ear as he drifts away. “I know what the Captain said, but I’ll happily go diving later.”

  It takes her a second, but when it clicks she shoves me away. “You’re going to get both of us expelled from here if you’re not careful.”

  I shrug. “Hey, responsibility is my middle name.”

  She turns back, smiling. “That’s funny. I thought it was Theodore.”