War

by T. A. Chase

  Don’t lie. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why did you let him see you, but give me shit about checking up on him?

  “Are you mad?” Russell’s hesitant question drew War from his silent conversation with Death.

  “Not at you. I’m annoyed at a certain Horseman.”

  Because it’s my job to make sure you’re not just thinking with your dick. There’s too much at stake for you to risk it all over some one-off or quick fuck.

  War snorted, but didn’t reply. As attracted as he was to Russell, sex had never been the first thing on his mind. He’d always wanted to help Russell get beyond the guilt Russell felt.

  Really? You want to help someone get beyond his guilt? Funny, coming from a man who let a boy murder him because he felt guilty for killing the boy’s tribe.

  Shut up. I’m not going to talk to you about this.

  He could almost see Death shake his head in amazement at War’s avoidance of discussing his past. Of course, War didn’t need to be reminded of his own guilt and how it had trapped him in the life he was living right then.

  “The Horsemen are real?”

  “Yes. It served our purpose to make people think we were merely legends or a myth told to keep mortals in line. Yet we do keep a balance between good and evil.”

  Russell’s expression said he didn’t believe War.

  “I know the things we do seem to be more evil than good, but sometimes it does work. When an epidemic breaks out and children die, sometimes a warlord’s heart will soften and he stops the genocide. When war breaks out, eventually the blood spilt is too much, and the two sides will find peace. Famine brings out the good in most people, and they’re willing to share what food they have to help those starving, and Death comes for everyone.”

  “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

  War chuckled. “Couldn’t help that. You see, if we weren’t around to shock people into realising how bad things can get, evil could take over and what happens then? The world comes apart at the seams, and the true battle between Heaven and Hell begins. The Horsemen are a thin line between the world as you know it now, and the Apocalypse everyone fears.”

  “Were you born a Horseman or did you become one? How does that work?” Russell scratched his jaw. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Next, you’re going to tell me vampires and werewolves exist.”

  “Not that I know of. No matter what any of the movies and books say.” War shot him a grin.

  Russell laughed. “Well, there’s a secret fantasy shot to hell.”

  “You wanted to get it on with a vampire or werewolf?”

  “Who wouldn’t? Haven’t you watched that TV show with the chick who has all the hot paranormal guys after her?”

  War shook his head. “I don’t own a TV. There’s not a lot of electricity out here.”

  “Okay, you have a point there.” Russell pursed his lips like he was thinking about something. “You didn’t answer my question. How does someone become a Horseman?”

  “I’m not sure. I died; then the next thing I remember I woke up like this. Death telling me I was War, the Red Horseman, and I needed to start wars to keep the peace.” War frowned. “I’m still not sure it works that way, but I don’t argue with him.”

  “What were you before you died?”

  “I was the chief of a Bedouin tribe. I think I’d seen thirty-five seasons before I was murdered.”

  Russell inhaled and War realised he needed to watch what he said. He didn’t need to spill all of his history into Russell’s lap. The man didn’t want to hear all of this shit.

  “Murdered? Who murdered you?”

  War shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Old history and all that.”

  The man sitting next to him didn’t say anything, but War could tell Russell didn’t believe him. He thought about things he could get Russell to talk about. War wanted Russell to talk about what had happened when his friend had died and Russell had shut down.

  “What happened that day?”

  As tension filled the air, War realised how comfortable he’d felt sitting beside Russell before he’d asked the question. They had the potential to be so much more than just friends with benefits. War could help him deal with the aftermath of battle.

  “I’ve talked about this with a bunch of doctors in the mental ward at the VA hospital. They said I had a mental break down and my mind kept replaying the moments with Jimmy and the medic.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, War spied Russell’s hands starting to shake. Shit, he didn’t want to drive him into another flashback with just some simple questions. Yet he had a feeling Russell hadn’t really talked about how that day had scarred him.

  “War can be rough and sometimes our minds aren’t strong enough to deal with all the shit thrown at us.” He cringed inside at the drivel he was spouting.

  He wouldn’t put it past Russell to slap him upside the head and tell him to keep his mouth shut.

  “The doctors and everyone else said the same thing to me. I appreciate knowing I wasn’t mentally strong enough to handle being in battle. Makes me feel really good.” Russell turned away from him.

  “Fuck. I wasn’t saying you were weak or anything like that. Simply that your mind had had enough. Do you think any of the men who came back from Vietnam or even the first Iraqi war with post-traumatic stress disorder were weak?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you think of yourself as weak for having the same issues? I know I didn’t say it right, but it’s true. Sometimes our mind can’t take all the shit thrown at it, especially during battle. Too much noise. Too many explosions. Too much blood.”

  He gritted his teeth, knowing blood was a trigger for Russell. Silence filled the Land Rover for a while. Was Russell fighting his mind, so he didn’t return to the empty place he’d been in before? He shot Russell a look, but Russell was staring out of the passenger window and didn’t meet his eyes.

  “I think that’s what did it for me. That was the straw to break the camel’s back, you know. I could handle the noise and the explosions. The idea of killing someone bothered me, but I never really got close enough to see them, so they could remain abstract for me.”

  War understood the concept. At times, he’d found himself wishing it happened that way for him. Of course, there weren’t guns or bombs when he went into battle. When War was mortal, it was hand-to-hand combat, where he looked into the eyes of the man he was about to kill and watched the life drain from them. Most of the time, it hadn’t bothered him. Just a way of life for him and his tribe, yet there were those few moments when something about his enemy had connected with his mind and he would remember their faces.

  “Modern warfare makes killing the enemy easier in a way, because you never have to see their faces if you don’t want to. I have to admit, when the nightmares of the people I killed haunt me, I wish I lived in your time.” He paused and thought for a minute. “I’m not saying war is easier for you. I’m simply saying I wish I didn’t have to look into my enemies’ eyes each time I killed one of them.”

  Russell shrugged. “Everyone’s experience of battle is different, I guess. I’d never really seen anyone killed around me. Sure, there’d been injuries and even some severe ones, but no one had died in my presence. Then, one minute Jimmy and I were talking. Next thing I know, he’s been hit. I didn’t know he was dead. When the medic showed up, there was still hope. I heard the man yell for a medevac, so I thought Jimmy would get flown out and be fine.”

  Russell’s voice trembled and War reached over to entwine their fingers. He figured Russell needed physical touch to ground him to the present. When nightmares drove him from his bed, War groomed his horses to ease the pain. Being around them and their uncomplicated expectations helped stop the downward spiral into depression and self-loathing.

  He waited for Russell to continue. When he didn’t, War looked over at him and noticed Russell was staring out of the window again, lost inside his o
wn thoughts. Yet his expression didn’t worry War, or make him think Russell was having another flashback. War decided to let Russell break the silence when he was ready. He wouldn’t force him to talk.

  Thirty minutes later, when Russell showed no signs of saying a word, War took his eyes off the trail and glanced at him. Russell’s head rested on the window and he appeared to be sound asleep. War winced as the tyres hit a rut and Russell’s forehead bounced against the glass.

  “That might leave a mark,” he muttered.

  It was a good thing they didn’t have much farther to go. He slowed down slightly, since there wasn’t any point in hurrying and giving Russell a concussion. Russell had enough problems with his brain already.

  As he drove, any left-over tension and exhaustion drained away from War. He rolled down his window and allowed the warm dry wind to blow over his face. He breathed in and realised what Russell meant about the smell of grass. He breathed deep, and, when the fresh scents of dirt and grass filled his lungs, War knew he was home.

  Everything settled deep inside him. As far as he was concerned, at this moment, nothing existed outside him and Russell in the vehicle. There was no other country besides Mongolia. No wars or battles going on anywhere else. Suddenly the steppes were an island of grass, keeping them isolated from the rest of the world. It was the best thing for both of them.

  Russell needed to learn how to live again without thinking of the men who had died around him. He had to discover it was all right to laugh and love without feeling guilty because he had lived and they had died.

  At what point are you going to follow your own advice?

  He studiously ignored Death’s comment, choosing to focus on Russell’s problems, not his own.

  An hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of his small hut and turned to look at Russell. The man leant against the door, his entire body relaxed and his expression rather innocent. He hated waking him up, but if he left him in the truck Russell wouldn’t be able to move his neck later.

  “Hey, Russell, it’s time to wake up.”

  The younger man muttered something, but didn’t open his eyes. War reached out to shake Russell’s shoulder.

  “Honey, you need to wake up. We’re home.”

  The moment his hand landed on Russell, he shot straight up and shouted, “Don’t touch me.”

  War held up his hands. “Okay. Don’t worry. It’s just me, Russell. You’re okay.”

  Russell glanced wildly around for a second until he focused on War and his shoulders slumped. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries, love.” War undid his seat belt and climbed out of the Land Rover. He went around to the passenger side and opened Russell’s door. “Can I show you my place?”

  Russell got out and stretched. War tried not to ogle Russell as his T-shirt rode up and a patch of pale skin appeared. He clenched his hand to keep from touching Russell there. Starting something out in the open wasn’t a good idea. Of course, it wasn’t like anyone would see them if they did it.

  “I’ll be honest, War. It doesn’t look like much.” Russell tossed him a grin as he grabbed his bag from the back and headed towards the door.

  “What? Did you think I’d have built a two-storey mansion out in the middle of nowhere?” War shook his head, but he smiled, not taking offence at Russell’s comment. “It fits me. I’m not used to anything fancy or big. This is close to the tent I used to live in.”

  He watched as Russell paused at the door and turned to look back at him. War gestured for Russell to go in. He never locked his doors or windows. Nothing he owned mattered to him. Anything important was hidden or he held their memories in his mind and didn’t need the physical objects.

  “Trusting, aren’t you?” Russell raised an eyebrow at him.

  He swung his arms out, wide and encompassing. “Who do you think would come and steal anything? If I have to leave, I make sure there’s food in the cupboards and wood in the firebox. I’m willing to let anyone who needs shelter use my hut as they pass by. As long as they don’t burn the place down or destroy it in some way, I don’t care.”

  Russell didn’t say anything else before shoving open the door and going in. War strolled around the yard and moved back towards the sheds and paddocks he used to house his horses during storms.

  A shrill neigh shattered the air and he grinned. His friends had somehow known he’d be back today. They’d returned his herd to him. Unused to being penned in for long, the small brown horses milled around. Slipping under the rails of the fence, War mingled with the horses, murmuring and stroking them. He wanted them to relearn his voice so, when he took them out again, they would obey him.

  War lost track of time as he wandered among the horses. Finally, when one of the horses closest to the fence tossed up its head and snorted, he turned to see Russell resting his elbows on the top rail. Without really thinking, he smiled and walked through the herd to slip his hands into Russell’s hair.

  He brought their lips together in a soft kiss. There wasn’t any rush to do more at the moment. Russell kept his hands on the railing, but he did participate in the kiss. They played and teased until War’s cock ached and he longed to bend Russell over and ride him.

  “Maybe we should move this into the house,” Russell whispered against his lips.

  War nodded. “Let’s go.”

  It was time for them to move beyond kisses. He climbed out of the pen, placed his hand at the small of Russell’s back and they walked back to War’s home. Stepping inside, War shot a quick glance around to make sure everything looked fine.

  “Nothing seems disturbed,” Russell commented and continued to head towards the curtained corner of the single room.

  “Of course, since I don’t own much, you wouldn’t really know if anything had been taken or not.” He chuckled.

  Russell didn’t say anything, just nodded as he reached up to unbutton his shirt. War licked his lips as Russell slowly stripped, revealing lean muscles and lightly golden skin.

  “Am I the only one getting naked here?”

  War hurriedly tore off his clothes, letting them fall wherever they landed. Soon they stood, staring at each other. War’s cock stiffened as Russell studied it. He hoped the man liked what he saw. War knew his own body carried scars of the life he’d lived before he’d become the Red Horseman.

  Crooking a finger at him, Russell encouraged him to come closer. He stalked Russell, but something told him the man wasn’t going to run. Russell took one step back and swept the curtain aside, showing the large bed. Furs and blankets covered it. War eased forward, and Russell sat on the edge of the mattress.

  He strolled up to Russell, moving to stand between his legs. Russell rested his hands on War’s hips. War stroked his hands over Russell’s chest, stopping to play with the man’s nipples, pinching and twisting until Russell whimpered.

  “Why don’t you taste me?”

  His suggestion lit up Russell’s eyes and Russell leant forward to wrap his lips around the tip of War’s cock. War closed his eyes and slowly pushed in, sinking as deep into Russell’s mouth as his lover would let him. When Russell tightened his fingers on War’s hips, he knew Russell couldn’t take any more.

  War ran his fingers through Russell’s hair, stopping at the back of Russell’s head and cradling it in his palms. “Are you ready?”

  Nodding, Russell hummed, causing War to shiver from the vibrations. Once he could think again, he began to move, pumping in and out of Russell’s mouth. He moaned when Russell slid his hands around and trailed his fingers down War’s crease to rub against his hole. It had been a long time since War had allowed anyone to penetrate him, but he knew he’d surrender to Russell.

  Strange how War could give up all his reservations and worries, and let Russell in. What was it about the younger soldier that made War willing to let him into the deepest parts of his soul? Another caress and War let all his thoughts disappear from his mind
. It was time to focus on making love to Russell and deal with all the other stuff later.

  His eyes rolled back in his head as Russell deep throated him while pressing his finger past the tight ring of muscles guarding War’s inner passage. Russell’s mouth was hot and wet, almost a perfect place to be. The only place better would be buried balls deep in Russell’s ass, but if Russell wanted to fuck him first, War would be fine with that.

  War undulated between Russell’s mouth and fingers, begging for more. He tightened his grip on Russell’s head, and Russell winced.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, stroking Russell’s hair in apology.

  Russell didn’t stop and War’s balls drew closer to his body while pleasure pooled at the base of his spine. His lover shoved three fingers into War, hitting his gland with a knuckle and War came, spilling his cum down Russell’s throat.

  “Russell!” War shouted.

  His lover kept sucking and stretching him until War’s knees threatened to give out. War took a trembling step back.

  “Let me get in bed and you can fuck me.”

  “Where’s the slick and rubbers?” Russell helped him onto the mattress.

  Nodding at a box on the table next to the bed, War settled on his hands and knees. He turned his head to watch Russell open the box and yank the stuff out. They exchanged grins as Russell dropped the lube next to War.

  “Why don’t you lube up while I get the condom on?”

  War did just that, groaning as his own fingers filled his ass. He was using four by the time Russell slapped his hip.

  “All right. As much as I love watching this, I want to fuck you.”

  “Take it slow. It’s been a while,” War admitted.

  Russell tilted his head and studied him for a moment. “How long?”

  “Since I gave my ass to anyone?”

  Russell nodded while he climbed between War’s legs. War shuddered at the feel of Russell’s cock brushing over his hole.

  “Let’s just keep it at a while.”

  It had actually been over a hundred years since he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to let someone fuck him. He didn’t think Russell was ready to hear that just yet. Russell might have dealt with finding out he was a Horseman, but that didn’t mean his mind would be able to accept just how old War really was. He didn’t want to interrupt their lovemaking before he felt Russell inside him.