I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier!

by Crystal Rose

  “Thrust upwards again.” Holy fucking shit. This was going to kill Ryan. He was starting to think that Grabowski was torturing him just to be an asshole.

  “Now lift your foot over the ankle on the same side of the wrist you’re holding and trap it there.” He did it and Ryan let out a soft moan. It wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear but him and judging by the look on Phillip's face he also heard it.

  FUCKKK! Ryan would have happily died right then and there. Maybe the next move, Phillip would actually kill him. That would be great. Or hey, if he were lucky maybe the earth would crack open and swallow them both. The fucker was enjoying this.

  Phillip smirked and bucked up again. “Buck forward, pulling them closer at the same time and this time roll to the side, taking them with you.” Suddenly the position drastically changed. Phillip was between Ryan's spread thighs, pressing his hard body against Ryan. Ryan was flat on his back, with the Sergeant's lower body pushing into his and his upper body leaning backwards. “Keep your body away from there and hold this position.” Ryan's legs wrapped around the larger man, but the hand holding the arm across his neck tightened, until he thought for sure he would end up suffocating. Thankfully that hold made him forget his cock for a moment.

  Yeah, Ryan was going to die. He had to because there was no chance in hell that Phillip COULDN'T feel his cock.

  Amusement entered Phillip's eyes. “That, private, is how you do it.” He rose slowly.

  Ryan could have sworn that Grabowski let his body brush against his for as long as possible - the bastard.

  He looked over the soldiers. “Now one more and you will practice these moves with your battle buddies.”

  Hold the fuck up. Ryan's mind went black. He had to actually roll around on the ground with Patrick while he had the fucking hard on from hell? That had to be a joke. Please God, let that be a joke.

  “Drill Sergeant King.” Phillip stepped back toward Ryan.

  Oh fuck no! Ryan would have cried if he was all alone. There was no way in hell he would demonstrate another fucking position with King.

  “Drill Sergeant King will be explaining the next one,” Grabowski called as King strolled up.

  Ryan damn near jumped for joy but hey, that had killed his erection. Now no longer a raging hard-on but just a plain hard-on. Fucker. He would have shot Grabowski a dirty look but the bastard was watching him with intense green eyes.

  “Privates, this is called the ‘Rear Naked Choke’,” King started. There were a few snickers and more than a few chuckles.

  ‘Rear naked choke?!’ Ryan blinked rapidly. Crappy, shitty, fucking hell. Couldn't they have a choke called, well, ‘choke-hold’ because dear God, this was going to fucking kill him. His face flushed and he knew he looked like a fish. He couldn't get enough air to his lungs. He looked up at Phillip and saw that damn smirking smile on the man's face.

  “Are you ready, Gracin?”

  Fuck no.

  “Sit down,” Grabowski ordered.

  Ryan sat down.

  Grabowski smirked. “Everything okay?”

  Ryan shook his head rapidly, absolutely terrified to open his mouth. Knowing his luck like he did he would blurt out something like 'fuck me' or 'can I have another, Drill Sergeant?’ Instead he just shook his head.

  He was only half listening to what King was saying but he caught “Wrap your legs around your opponent’s waist.”

  Phillip did so and slid them down, hooking them tightly behind Ryan's knees. Ryan couldn't move if he wanted to, which he really didn't because damn….

  Strong biceps went around his neck. Ryan figured he could happily die now and probably would. He was pulled tight against the rock-hard body behind him. It took him a second to realize that not only was the upper body hard and tight, but the lower matched.

  His mind went completely blank. He would have a hard time repeating any of these moves. He knew he would.

  He was jerked up and the biceps tightened, not hard enough to stop his blood flow, just enough to feel pressure.

  He could feel hot breath against his ear and a low chuckle filled his senses. This was so not right.

  “Wanna know what I wanted to do to you at the club, Gracin?” The voice was silky smooth. It was dark, promising. “I wanted to fuck you.”

  Ryan took a deep breath and shuddered. He fucking shuddered.

  Then that honeyed voice went in for the kill. “Right against that fucking wall.”

  He didn't get a chance to reply because the bicep around his neck began to tighten and he was pulled back tighter against the Drill. His other hand slid over his head like he was giving Ryan’s head a lover’s caress. It might have felt good if Ryan wasn't currently trying not to pass out.

  Ryan tapped at the arm and he wasn't sure if it was to try and jerk it loose, or to hold him tighter. Later when this was all over he would blame the lack of blood going to his brain for even thinking this was sexy as hell.

  As soon as it was over Grabowski scooted away and Ryan fell backwards. “Go on back to your battle buddy, Freckles.”

  The bastard looked like nothing even happened. Ryan was damn near immobile. He rolled over to his side, managed to pick himself up off the ground and grabbed his BDU pants before they slid down his lean hips. His BCGs were steaming up.

  He made his way back over to Patrick, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Alright, begin!” King shouted.

  “Damn. You okay?” Patrick asked.

  “Uh huh.”

  Patrick gave him that stupid grin again. “Dude?”

  “Wha?”

  “You have a hard-on.”

  Patrick kept joking about the hard-on until Ryan went to adjust himself.

  Somehow he made it through the rest of hand-to-hand after that.

  ***

  They were in their bunks not paying attention to Kenneth and Brendon, who were arguing over who was hotter, Jessica Alba or Jessica Simpson.

  Patrick crawled out from his bottom bunk and looked up at Ryan.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked in a low tone.

  Ryan shook his head.

  “Might help.”

  “And say what? I've got the hots for Grabowski? Dude, do you realize how much of a girl I sound saying that?” Ryan shuddered.

  “He is hot. Evil, scary and sadistic but hot nonetheless,” Patrick told him with a smile.

  Chapter Six

  It started out innocently enough. One moment they were right on point, then the next thing Patrick was cussing and Ryan was stumbling over a tree limb. If they weren't in the forest Ryan could have found their way out. At least, that was what he was currently telling himself. He did know one thing though - Night Navigation freaking sucked.

  “Dude, face it. We're lost,” Patrick muttered.

  “We are not lost! I never get lost,” Ryan muttered. Well, except for this one time.

  “We're lost and going to be eaten by some fucking bear.”

  “You sound like Brendon.”

  “Fuck you, Gracin,” Patrick snarled and then sighed. “Any clues whatsoever, oh fearless navigator?”

  “Um, sure; it's somewhere in this general direction,” Ryan said.

  “I hope you die,” Patrick muttered.

  They continued their walk. “Hey, that looks familiar!” Ryan said, pointing at a tree.

  Patrick looked. “You're right! It does! Where have I seen that before?” He paused and thought about it.

  “Oh that's right we're standing in the middle of a fucking FOREST where all the fucking TREES look like the same FUCKING tree as that ONE!” Patrick hissed.

  Ryan reddened. Yeah, he knew he had gotten them lost. He looked down at his compass and sighed for the millionth time.

  “Dude, I doubt the Drills will even bother to look for us,” Patrick said glumly.

  “Sure they will. They have to,” Ryan replied. They got paid for making sure all their soldiers actually survived the basic training part.

/>   “Okay, we sit. That way we're not moving and we don't get fucking lost any more than we are. Maybe one of The Drills or possibly other guys will find our asses,” Patrick said, finally taking charge of the exercise.

  “Fine.” Ryan didn't argue. He would just do what Patrick wanted because he was the one that had got them so fucking lost.

  They stood around quietly for a moment and then Ryan looked at Patrick. “Do you seriously think Connelly is better looking than Grabowski? And more importantly, when did you become gay?”

  Patrick blinked and then laughed, his mood changing as rapidly as he changed his socks. “I didn't say that and Ryan, not everyone has to be either straight or gay. I'm sorta in between. I can appreciate attractiveness in either sex.”

  It figured Patrick would answer the question only to leave more questions open. It wouldn't do Ryan any good to ask again. Patrick would just say something like ‘frogs can spontaneously turn into the opposite sex,’ or something equally as creepy.

  “But I didn't say that I would turn down Connelly if he should ever come onto me either.”

  Ryan gritted his teeth. “I hate you.”

  “You both know now is not the time to be out finding cool new places to fuck, right?” A deep voice came from their left. They turned and both nearly let out a squeal of delight to see Connelly.

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant Connelly!” Ryan shot Patrick an ‘I-told-you-so look.’

  “Dumbass,” Patrick mumbled under his breath.

  “I didn't hear that, Gandhi. What did you say?”

  “I called Private Gracin a dumbass, Drill Sergeant,” Patrick repeated.

  The look Ryan shot him this time would have melted steel.

  Connelly chuckled. “Come on, Fuck-ups. You two are the last team to make it back.”

  ***

  Ryan glared at the men across the way. Delta had shown up to withdraw their weapons from the armory the same time Charlie did. There was a deep-seated hatred for the bastards of Delta Company.

  “They look so fucking smug,” Kenneth complained.

  “That's because they fucking smoked us last time,” Brendon said, glaring just as hard as Ryan.

  “Dude, they were totally trashing Grabowski during KP,” Patrick said.

  “No one gets to trash Grabowski except us!” Self-righteous anger zoomed through Brendon.

  “That's fucking right!” Kenneth growled.

  “Well damn, the girl scouts are in town,” called Drill Sergeant Davis.

  Phillip just grinned. “Hell, yeah; mark me down for two boxes of Thin Mints, Davis,” he said, causing the guys in his platoon to laugh.

  “Charlie Company! Attention!” The guys snapped forward. They did it as one.

  “Gawddamn that was pretty!” yelled Drill Sergeant King.

  “About FACE!” They all pivoted on their left and swung around to face Delta Company.

  “FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!” cried Connelly.

  “Down by the river we took a little walk! We ran into Delta and we had a little talk.” His voice rose with each word until all that could be heard was his battle cry.

  “We pushed them down!” It was obvious that Charlie Company was looking for a new bitch and Delta got the duty.

  All three Drill Sergeants joined in. “HEY!”

  “We kicked 'em!” Every man in the platoon's voice rose together. They looked through Delta and straight to the Drills. Delta's Drills had nothing on Charlie’s. They would fucking slit their throats if they messed with any of 'em.

  Again Grabowski, King and Connelly joined in. “HEY!”

  “We threw them in the River and laughed when they drowned!”

  “WE DON'T NEED NO DELTA A-RUNNING, A-RUNNING AROUND!” Grabowski called.

  It was a glorious thing to hear forty-something voices joining together and making the ground shake with their thunder. Windows rattled. Even a few of the Delta guys were wincing.

  They had let their Drill Sergeants down before. They wouldn't do it again.

  Delta was called to attention and started their cadence.

  Charlie burst out laughing. Delta sounded like complete asses. They didn't get it this time. Drill Sergeant Davis made a big show of sighing.

  “Fuck, I shoulda known better,” he shouted, looking at his own platoon. “HALF RIGHT FACE!” He proceeded to heap embarrassment onto his belittled platoon.

  “Make that three boxes of Thin Mints,” Phillip called, grinning wildly. He looked over his platoon with pride.

  “And two boxes of those Caramel Delight things!” King added.

  “Don't forget those peanut butter ones. Those are awesome,” Connelly cackled.

  Overall that day freaking rocked.

  ***

  The day started out with a cattle car ride. Ryan crinkled up his nose at that. Riding in anything that smelled like week-old cow shit wasn't pleasant for anyone. Hell, at eight o'clock in the morning it had already been in the eighties, so not only did it smell like shit it was hotter than hell. By the time they got to their 'campground of love' as the Drills called it, they were all bitchy. Brendon was calling Kenneth a jackass and Kenneth was calling Patrick a moron and Ryan was calling them all girls. They were given twenty minutes to set up their two-man tents. Ryan wanted to laugh over that one.

  He hadn't set up a tent since he was ten. Come to think about, it his father actually set that one up. Luckily Patrick fucking Smith AKA Mr. Fucking Perfect knew how to do it. Yeah okay, maybe Ryan was having a bad day too. It was more than a possibility. By the time night came they were all ready to bed down but, oh no, Drill Sergeant Grabowski wanted to play a game.

  They sighed as they put on their MILES gear. To Ryan this was some sort of fucked up laser tag game. He stared at the small receiver and wondered if ANYONE could actually make a shot that would hit the little sensor. It criss-crossed their chests and lay across their Kevlar vests. Grabowski even set one off so they would hear what it sounded like.

  Ryan thought it sounded like a bird getting its head lopped off.

  Ryan, Patrick, Brendon and Kenneth were stalking through the forest, paying close attention to their surroundings. Any little thing could be a booby trap and knowing their enemy, it would be.

  They all hunched down, staying in each other's footprints. Brendon was pulling point. Ryan was behind him. Kenneth followed Ryan and Patrick was pulling up the rear. They were quiet. They were deadly. They were United States Fucking Army.

  At least that's what they were telling themselves when a shot came out of nowhere, taking their medic down.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

  “INCOMING!” Brendon shouted and they dove to the ground.

  “Where did the shot come from?” Patrick shouted, as he low-crawled to Kenneth.

  “Dude, I'm dead and if you use my body as a fucking shield I'll haunt your ass,” Kenneth warned.

  “Came from the left!” Ryan shouted.

  A grenade went off twenty feet from Brendon. Then another muffled shot.

  “Fuck!” BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

  “Man down!” Patrick yelled.

  “No shit, Sherlock!” Brendon shouted over the loud-assed beeping.

  Ryan looked at Patrick who was watching to his left.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

  “I'm dead,” Ryan said as he dropped his head down to the ground. He seriously hated these fucking beeps.

  Patrick was the only one left. If he could just get to the tree - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

  “Motherfucker!” Patrick snorted.

  “GAWD DAMN, YOU FUCKERS MADE IT TOO FUCKING EASY!” King shouted.

  Just what Ryan wanted to listen to - the annoying as fuck beeping and King shouting like a fucking mad man.

  “HAVE ANY OF YOU PAID ATTENTION TO THE CLASSES?” Connelly shouted over the beeps.

  All four just hung their heads. This was fucking pitiful.

  Luckily Grabowski was off hunting some other group. That made Ryan’s night, at least until they heard more beeps
heading their way. “Well, fuck.”

  Instead of four beeps they turned into eight solid fucking beeps. It was enough to make Ryan want to rip the shit off and stomp on it.

  “For fucks sakes. You four, too? Have you piss-ants been paying ANY attention at all?” Phillip asked.

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!”

  “EIGHT FUCKING DEAD. YOU MOTHERFUCKERS CAN'T BE PAYING THAT MUCH ATTENTION!”

  All eight men looked down at the ground.

  “Un-fucking-acceptable! What is your major malfunction?” Phillip shouted. A storm brewed in his eyes until it exploded in a rage that made all eight want to take a step backwards.

  Ryan realized that he didn't have to shout very loud to be heard over the racket. It proved to Ryan that maybe Grabowski was God.

  “March your asses back to camp. Get that shit turned off and then meet me in front of the latrine. We have some training to fucking do!”

  Ryan thought the Drill Sergeants were the ones to turn it off. It wasn't until they were halfway back that he realized this extended beep torture was just to make them feel like assholes - like they needed Grabowski for that anyways.

  ***

  By the time they got to bed Ryan was dragging his ass. There was no fucking way he would be able to move in the morning. He giggled; he supposed it was already morning. The bastard had fucking smoked the hell out of them. Even Brendon, who NEVER got fucked up was seriously dragging some major ass.

  “Dude, you just giggled,” Patrick said tiredly. Then he too giggled. “God! I'm fucking tired!”

  It seemed the giggles were catching because no sooner had Patrick giggled, Big David Brodrick giggled. If that wasn't enough, Brendon took one look at David and began to howl with laughter. They all paused, giggling like lunatics, all eight of them.

  “Jesus! That was a fucking nightmare. I didn't realize these bastards made such a fucking racket,” Ryan snorted.