On the Sand [A Jarheads Novel]

by Sean Michael

  "I'll make some hot chocolate.” He'd spike it, too.

  Rock nodded and Rig didn't ... do anything. Weird. Too fucking weird.

  He grabbed a saucepan and the milk out of the fridge, started making up the hot chocolate as he fretted. They were all working too hard, and, as always, Rig worked the hardest of them all, taking care of his patients, of Rock and him ... they needed another holiday. He'd talk to Rock about it, let his lover know when he had time off school.

  With the hot chocolate made and a generous splash of whiskey added, he headed for their bedroom.

  Rock had stripped Rig down and was heading for the bathroom, Rig's cheeks red and splotchy.

  Damn.

  Dick made a detour from the bedroom, following them, and then getting the shower started. “Cool or outright cold?"

  "Hot. Hot, Pretty. I'm fucking cold."

  "You look hot,” he pointed out, reaching to press his hand against Rig's forehead. Jesus. He met Rock's unhappy eyes and got the water going, the temperature tepid. Rock just stepped in with Rig, clothes and all, lips tight and unhappy.

  "I'll get the thermometer.” And if they couldn't get Rig's temperature down with the shower, they'd have to take Rig to the emergency room.

  Rig started bitching when the water hit him, complaining that it was too cold, too this, too that. Then Rig started cooling off, the long, skinny-skinny body relaxing. His own sigh of relief was echoed by Rock's, and he put the thermometer down for now. Instead he went and got the bed ready, surprised to find it hadn't been made yet today, the covers all over the place.

  Quick as he could, he spread the sheets and blankets back out, then turned them back, fluffed the pillows and made sure the hot chocolate was in reach. Rig didn't get sick often; though that certainly wasn't true of the last couple of months, but he took such good care of him and Rock that Dick always wanted to make sure they returned the favor to their best ability when it was Rig.

  He hurried back into the bathroom, grabbing a couple extra towels from the cupboard on his way, worry still nagging at him. Rig was still in Rock's arms, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep. Rock nodded at the taps and Dick got the water turned off, one towel going around Rock's shoulders, the other around Rig.

  "Take him,” growled Rock, and Dick slid his arms next to Rock's, taking Rig and holding him close. He was still too warm, but not burning up anymore.

  Rock stripped out of his sopping wet clothing. Rig didn't fight him, didn't apologize to Rock. It just didn't work. It just wasn't right.

  "I'll take him to bed."

  Rock nodded, eyebrows together in a frown, expression unhappy. Yeah, he kind of felt the same way.

  He tucked Rig into the covers, sitting next to the limp body. “You want some of this hot chocolate?” He should have spiked it with cold medicine.

  Rig's eyes opened, head tilted. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. It smells amazing."

  He held the cup up to Rig's mouth, helping him take a sip, and he heard Rock come in and stand at the bottom of the bed, watching them.

  "You want some, Blue?” Rig was waking up, blinking some. “What time is it?"

  "After nine, and no, you drink up. The kid brought chicken if you're hungry.” Rock could really growl when he wanted to, the words rumbling and low.

  "I'm not hungry.” Rig sat up, frowning. “You pissed at me? I just wasn't feeling good..."

  "Pissed? What makes you think I'm pissed?"

  Dick grinned and leaned in. “I think that's his worried face, but I can see where you'd mistake it for the other."

  "I'm okay, Rock. Just tired. Need a vacation, I think."

  "Yeah? You volunteering to take time off?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. I could take a couple weeks."

  Rock looked a little dumbfounded and Dick met the blue eyes, shrugged. It wasn't like Rig, but he wasn't about to give up a vacation with the two of them. “I've got a break coming up, and I can afford to take some time off either before or after."

  "Just tell me when.” Rig took the mug, drank a bit more before putting it aside.

  Rock nodded. “That fairly soon, Dick? The gym won't be a problem."

  He nodded. “Yeah, in a couple weeks. Would that work?"

  "Works for me.” Rock sat at the bottom of the bed and started massaging Rig's legs.

  "Oh...” Rig groaned, legs looking fucking tiny in Rock's hands. Shit, he hadn't seen Rig this skinny in years.

  "Hey, I brought home chicken, you want me to get some? There's biscuits, too.” Rig needed some meat on his bones.

  "No chicken. I'll take a biscuit."

  "No chicken?” Rock's massaging stopped. “When's the last time you ate?"

  "I had supper with y'all last night.” Dick frowned. No. He and Rock'd had burgers and fries. Rig had sipped at a cup of soup.

  "Last fucking night? In case you hadn't noticed, it's a whole fucking day later. Get the man some fucking chicken, kid."

  Yeah, Rig needed to eat. No wonder he was sick again.

  "I don't. Just the biscuit, Dick, okay? I'm queasy."

  "Yeah, okay, I'll be right back.” He was going to have to come home a little earlier most nights and make Rig some of his favorites. Hell, they hadn't had chili and cornbread in forever.

  Dick sighed and put together three plates, adding some mashed potatoes to Rig's, along with two biscuits and sharing the rest out between himself and Rock. He tossed it all into the microwave to warm back up and then tossed the plates on a tray and carried them back to the bedroom.

  Rig was lying across Rock's thighs, eyes closed, breathing slow as Rock rubbed the long back. Dick put the plates on the bed next to Rock and sat with them. He touched Rig's shoulder, and then broke off a bit of biscuit, offering it over.

  Rig's lips parted, the bite taken. “Thanks, Pretty."

  "How are you feeling?” he asked, handing another biscuit to Rock who stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.

  "Tired. Just real tired."

  He slid another bite of biscuit between Rig's lips. “We'll all cuddle after you've finished eating, get you some good sleep."

  "Yeah. Yeah, sounds like a plan. We could watch a movie."

  "Works for me.” Rock was barely understandable around the second biscuit that he shoved into his mouth, but Dick nodded in agreement. Rig could fall asleep and they could all pretend he hadn't slept the entire evening away.

  "I think that romantic comedy with Hugh Grant came in the mail this morning.” Dick ducked Rock's swat.

  Rig actually laughed. “I want explosions."

  "Right on.” Rock nodded and grabbed a piece of chicken, digging in.

  Dick offered Rig a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy—he was going to feed the man if it killed him. “I think we've got an ample selection of explosions."

  "Cool.” Rig ate that bite and then one more before lying back down. “That's enough for now, Pretty."

  "You sure?” He'd try again later if Rig managed to stay up. Tomorrow morning he was making sure Rig had breakfast. Even if it meant waking Rig up.

  He and Rock finished their supper, chit chatting about the gym, the beach, a party they'd all been invited to next weekend by the new neighbors.

  "I think those girls had the hots for you, Rock.” He ducked another swat.

  "Tell them Rock's taken."

  "Oh, I think they'll get the picture when we show up to their barbeque party all together."

  "Mmhmm.” Rig's fingers brushed Rock's thigh.

  "Won't stop ‘em from wanting the two of you,” Dick said, admiring his lovers. He knew how fucking lucky he was to be a part of them.

  "'m an old man. Folks won't want me."

  He and Rock snorted in tandem. There was just something about Rig that drew people to him. He nudged Rig in the ribs. “Like three quarter of your patients aren't in love with you."

  Rig groaned, pulling away. “Easy, kid."

  He blinked and looked over at Rock, whose eyebrow'd gone up. “I'm sorry—I didn't
think I'd poked you that hard."

  "It's cool.” Rig leaned, kissed his shoulder. “One more sip of chocolate?"

  He got himself a proper kiss first, and then leaned over and grabbed the chocolate, which was not quite cold.

  "I'll put in the movie.” Rock was looking grumpy again, and he cleared their plates into the kitchen. Rock followed him, growling, grumbling, looking unhappy as hell. “He's sick again."

  Dick nodded. “Did you see that nudge? I hardly touched him. Do you think he'll talk to one of the other doctors at the clinic? I mean that last cold could have been over way sooner if he'd gone on antibiotics from the start instead of ignoring it."

  "He'll talk to one of them,” growled Rock, grabbing the chocolate ice cream from the freezer and dishing out three bowls of it.

  They grabbed Predator, Terminator and XXX from the DVD stand on their way back to the bedroom.

  Rig was in the bathroom, puking. Goddamn it.

  He thrust the movies at Rock and hurried over to rub Rig's back, and when his lover was done, he got a cool cloth and wiped it over the back of Rig's neck, his face. He didn't say anything, just offered what comfort he could.

  "Sorry. Need to see Sam tomorrow, see if he'll write me a ‘scrip."

  He gave Rig a genuine smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

  Dick offered over a glass of water for Rig to rinse with.

  "You make sure you fill that ‘scrip.” Rock stood in the doorway, watching them. “Now come on, there's ice cream melting and explosions waiting to happen."

  "Fuckin’ A.” Rig crawled back into the bed, curling up around the pillows.

  "Jesus fucking Christ,” muttered Rock.

  "He's said he'll go to one of the other doctors, now just get in bed and let's watch one of these damned movies and have our ice cream.” He was feeling out of sorts himself. Things just weren't right when Rig was sick.

  Surprisingly, Rock did as he was told, sitting and tugging Rig up into his lap.

  Rig smiled, grabbed him and tugged him close. “I'm okay. I got a bug, Pretty, that's all."

  Matching Rig's smile, he settled in with Rig's legs in his lap, Rock's leg sliding over top of his own as he grabbed the remote and started the movie.

  And if he spent more time watching his lovers instead of the movie, well he knew this one inside out anyway, and Vin Diesel had nothing on Rock.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rock thought long and hard about what kind of vacation they should take.

  It couldn't be anywhere wet because he didn't want to tempt yet another bug to come attack Rig. It couldn't be anywhere too far away, Rig was still tired and dragging ass and the last thing he needed was hours and hours of traveling. If they just stayed home, Rig would find shit to do, so that wouldn't work either.

  He finally hit on Las Vegas. It was warm and dry. They could gamble, they could eat, they could sightsee and shit, and they could drive out into the desert to say they'd seen that, too. But most of all, they could relax and play in a luxurious hotel room complete with a fucking hot tub.

  Not only that, but Rig's upstairs room could be dry-walled and the stairs installed and sealed before they got back.

  He booked everything, printed out the relevant information pages and presented them at dinner four days before they were set to go. “Here's where we're staying."

  Rig took out his little wire-rimmed glasses, looked over the brochures. “Man, Egyptian pyramid hotel. Fucking cool."

  "Room service, hot tubs, all you can eat buffets and all three of us together—what else could a man ask for?” He'd done pretty fucking good, if he said so himself.

  "Oh, they have a mummy exhibit and elevators that go up the side.” Rig looked almost tickled.

  Dick looked through the brochures. “Hey, you think we can get a tour of the CSI sets? That would be way cool."

  Rock shrugged. “We've got two weeks—I bet you can find all sorts of interesting shit to do if we get tired of lounging and fucking."

  "Tired of fucking?” Rig tilted his head. “Us?"

  He grinned, nodded. “You never know, there might be a half hour period on day twelve where that happens."

  "Nah. Not with us.” Rig grinned, winked at him.

  He and Dick laughed, the kid looking again. “I'll do some research anyway."

  "You're good at that.” Rig patted Dick, stood and stretched. The man was looking better after getting some meds and shit, still skinny, but better.

  "You got some dessert for us here tonight, Rig? Some chocolate pie?"

  "I haven't made any in forever, huh? There's a store-bought one, does that work?"

  "It'll do. If you come sit right here and feed me.” He patted his lap. Oh, fuck him raw, look at that smile. Rig just beamed and headed for the fridge. Go fucking him.

  Rock pushed back from the table, spreading his legs a bit. “Right fucking here.” He kept his eyes on that ass as Rig bent to get the pie. The kid moaned, eyes on exactly the same view.

  Hot motherfucker. Those long legs ended in that perfect, tiny butt that was made for his cock. His prick pushed hard at his zipper, and he had a moan to match Dick's. He rubbed his thighs, just waiting for Rig to get that pie and come straddle him.

  Rig stood, pie plate in hand. “How big a piece?"

  He met those grey eyes. “I can take anything you can dish out."

  Rig's belly went tight and the tight jeans got tighter, that cock just filling.

  "Oh, that sounded like a challenge. Looks like it was accepted, too.” Dick grinned from one to the other, licked his lips. Horndog.

  Rig didn't bother getting a plate, just brought the whole pie over to the table, eyes fastened to his. “Hey."

  "Hey, Cowboy. Have a seat.” He wanted that pie. He wanted Rig more.

  Rig slid into his lap, legs spreading wide over the top of his thighs. Moaning happily, he slid his hand between Rig's legs, massaging that pretty package.

  "Mmm. Blue.” Rig pushed right into his touch. “You. You want pie?"

  "You know I do.” He opened his mouth, just like a bird, his fingers still rubbing against Rig's balls. Dick chuckled and moved his chair closer. Rig stretched, slid his fingers through the pie, slipping the bite into Rock's lips.

  Oh, fuck. Yes.

  Groaning, he sucked hard, the taste of chocolate and Rig mixing together. His cock throbbed, pushing at his jeans.

  Rig arched, ass rocking on his thighs, lips parted. “Oh. Oh, you. You want another. Another bite?"

  "Yep. I do. Dick wants some, too."

  "Uh-huh.” The kid leaned forward, licking the side of his mouth and then looking hopefully at Rig.

  "Mmm. I want some Dick...” Rig fed the kid a bite, head falling back on those thin shoulders as Dick sucked.

  Rig's fingers left Dick's mouth with a pop, the kid starting up those amazing noises. Yeah, this was the way to eat dessert. Dick got up and pushed the table out of the way, bringing his chair in, knees slipping between his spread legs and bumping Rig's ass.

  "Mmm.” Rig leaned back, head against Dick's shoulder. “Hey."

  Dick licked a line from Rig's neck up to his mouth. “Hey. Dessert's tasting yummy tonight."

  Rock chuckled—it sure was. Sweet and salty. Rig reached out, got another finger full and brought it up.

  "Don't mind if I do.” He leaned in, catching Rig's gaze as he wrapped his lips around Rig's fingers, sucking strongly. Those grey eyes went wide, Rig actually bucked up on his thighs.

  Oh, someone wanted pretty fucking badly.

  He let his teeth graze the tips of Rig's fingers as they slid out of his mouth. Dick's fingers crept around Rig's ribs and started to toy with the buttons of the dress shirt Rig wore on work days.

  "More?” He watched Rig swallow, watched that Adam's apple bob in that long, stretched throat.

  "Let Dick have another bite and then yeah, I want more.” He looked down to where Rig's thighs were stretched over his own, the way that stretched the ma
n's pants tight around his package and up along the thin torso Dick was slowly baring, all the way back up to the needy, grey eyes. “Yeah. Lots more."

  "Yeah.” Fuck, that was a hot motherfucking smile. Those long fingers dragged through the pie, one bite of whipped cream licked off before they were offered to the kid. Groaning, Dick leaned in and licked at Rig's chocolate coated fingers, tongue lapping, putting on a show. A fucking good show.

  Rock rubbed at his own trapped cock, and then Rig's, and then Dick's, making his men moan and shift.

  "Hungry men.” Rig looked like there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be, and Rock fucking approved, balls to bones.

  "Fucking starving for it.” It had been too long since Rig hadn't looked tired to the bone. “My turn again,” he added as Dick cleaned the last of the chocolate from between Rig's fingers.

  "Mmm. ‘kay.” Rig got him a bite, heavy on the chocolate and light on the cream, just like he wanted it.

  He nibbled at it, and at Rig's fingers indiscriminately, tongue sliding on skin to make sure he had every bit of chocolate. He'd swear he could taste Dick's flavor on them as well, and he sucked hard until there was nothing but Rig there.

  "Okay,” he growled. “Enough pie. Us now."

  "Uh-huh.” Dick's agreement was immediate, fingers pulling Rig's shirt off.

  Rig grabbed his hand, brought his fingers up to that amazing fucking mouth, lips wrapping around his middle finger and sucking like it was his dick.

  "Fuck...” His whole body shuddered at that, cock just throbbing in his jeans. A man could almost come from just that. It was something to watch, Rig working it, just sucking his finger, tongue sliding over his skin, sweet as fuck. Sweet noises came out of Dick and the kid joined Rock on his legs, pressing up close against Rig's ass.

  Fuck yeah.

  His fucking men. Right there.

  Rig pressed close, cock hard and hot, even through both sets of jeans. He grabbed hold of Dick's ass and tugged, rolling the two of them against him. Oh yeah, just like that. He did it again, and on the third one, Rig and Dick moved with him. Good thing the chairs were solid and handmade from their own redneck-with-a-workshop. They kept moving together, Rig giving his finger the best blow job it had ever had. Rig's nipple ring flashed in the light every time he rocked forward, and he leaned in, grabbing it between his teeth and letting Rig's own motions tug it. He felt Rig's cry around his finger, the teeth scraping all along the skin.