On the Sand [A Jarheads Novel]

by Sean Michael

  He got a long kiss from Dick. Rig started groaning, nuzzling and kissing his belly, his cock, his balls. Loving on him.

  Felt good. Felt fucking good.

  He could handle this kind of dancing anytime.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Paperwork.

  The one fucking thing he hated about owning the gym.

  Well, hated was a strong word.

  Rock looked at the pile of paper still to deal with and took that back. He definitely hated it. And he had to do the kid's fucking share as well lately. Dick going to school was a good thing, but him getting stuck with the paperwork wasn't. Maybe they needed to hire someone to pick up Dick's slack. Only the kid was already feeling so fucking guilty—he was going to have to talk to Dick, slap him upside the head and tell him to fucking stop it.

  Meantime, it was after seven and he was going to be stuck here another couple hours, at least, getting caught up. And he didn't want to call home because Rig was likely sleeping and his cowboy'd been so fucking tired lately.

  He couldn't even ask Jilly to go out and get him some supper because the girl was vegetarian or vegan or some shit. Little freak refused to even buy meat for someone else and the last time she'd picked up supper for the staff he'd wound up with a recycled cardboard box of warm salad with fucking tofu on it. Bad enough it was rabbit food, but heated through? Christ.

  He'd rather eat the Goddamned paperwork.

  The smell of grease and burger and fried shit hit him, made him blink. “Hey, Marine. Reinforcements are here."

  Oh, man. Rig. With food. And Coke.

  "Oh, fuck. That smells like heaven, Rig.” He pushed his paperwork to the side, making space in front of him for the greasy bag of food.

  "I thought you'd approve.” Rig plopped the bag down, grabbed the pile and a pen. “How's it going?"

  "Long fucking day, but it's looking up."

  He took a moment to give Rig a once over. Long and skinny, his cowboy looked tired, but fucking good in the chair across his desk.

  Then he grabbed the bag and opened it up, groaning as the smell of greasy hamburger and even greasier fries hit his nose. There were two burgers for him. Fries. Two fried pies. Score. Fucking score.

  He ate the first burger like a starving man, which he was, and then enjoyed the other one more slowly. “You already eat?” he asked around a mouthful of bun, meat and grease.

  "Not hungry yet, man.” Rig's head was bent over the papers, pen scribbling away.

  He grabbed a handful of fries, licking the salt off his fingers. “You have a late lunch? And you don't have to do that, you know."

  "I know. I like to help you out, Blue. You know that.” He got a grin, the lines beside Rig's eyes and mouth deep as fuck.

  "I know. It's why I keep you around.” He winked.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Rig snorted, laughed. “I just figure the more I help, the more likely we are to get home together."

  "Yeah. I'm a bit backed up here.” He nodded at the pile, which already looked a lot fucking shorter. “Dick got a class or a study group meeting?"

  "I don't know. I think a study thing. I'm just glad it's not me."

  "Been there, done that, huh?” He couldn't fucking imagine it. All those books. Give him a weight machine or a weapon and he knew what he was doing.

  "You know it. It's important to him, though."

  "Yeah. He's done good—committed to it.” He was proud of the kid, doing something more. He finished the last fry and tossed the bags into his wastebasket. Swish, right in. Two points.

  Rig applauded, grinned at him. “Better?"

  He grinned and nodded. “Fuck, Rig, I was better the minute you walked in the door with your offering of food and your skills with the paperwork."

  Speaking of which ... he grabbed half of what was left and started in on it.

  Hell, Rig had whaled on it, just leaving him a couple things. Fucking A.

  He was a fucking lucky man.

  It didn't take them more than fifteen minutes to finish everything up and get it all filed or mailed off. “You want to work out or sit in the hot tub or anything?"

  "Is there a private room open? I could soak."

  "You know there's a private room.” He stood and stretched. He could handle a soak with his cowboy.

  "Well, I know there is one. I didn't know if it was booked.” Rig got to his feet, finger sliding over his belly.

  He groaned, muscles flexing under Rig's fingers. “It's always open for you, Rig."

  "Mmm. Then lead on, Marine. I got old bones that need boiling."

  He snorted. “Watch who you're calling old there."

  He had ten years on Rig. And some days he felt it, though Rig was fucking good at making him forget it. He put his arm around Rig's shoulders and led him down to the change room.

  Christ, Rig was bony. Seriously bony.

  He grunted and let his hand slide down along Rig's spine, trying not to let the sound turn into a growl. He could feel every vertebrae, every single one. He did growl this time. “You've been living on coffee again, haven't you?"

  "No. No, Blue. I haven't had a cup of coffee in damn near a month."

  What the hell? “Why the fuck not?"

  "I just haven't. Hasn't been settling.” Rig locked the little private door, started stripping off.

  He started stripping down himself. With the door locked, they didn't need to worry bathing suits, just the way he liked it.

  "Well what are you living on then? Peanuts? You look like a strong wind'll blow you the fuck down."

  "I'm fine, Rock.” No. No, it didn't look like.

  "You're too fucking skinny."

  "Quit nagging, Rock. Let's soak."

  His eyebrow rose. “I'm not nagging.” He climbed into the hot tub though and leaned back, arms open.

  Rig smiled, slipping into the water, settling in his arms. “Oh. Better.” Way too fucking skinny.

  He let it go, though, just wrapped his arms around Rig. “This beats paperwork, hands down."

  "Mmmhmm.” Rig cuddled in, moaning softly. “You know it, man."

  Rock closed his eyes and floated in the bubbles, arms full of his favorite cowboy. Rig's cheek landed on his shoulder, legs floating around him. He stroked his hand along Rig's spine, counting each vertebrae right down to the top of Rig's crack. It wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. “Everything okay?"

  "It is now. Damn, you feel good.” Rig smiled against his skin, just floating. He grinned, flexed a little, making Rig's head move up and down with the motion of his muscles.

  "Mmm. My Blue.” Rig's fingers slipped down his belly, stroking and petting him. He groaned, hips pushing a little, encouraging Rig's touch where he most wanted it. Rig murmured, finger slipping down, wrapping around his cock and rubbing, slow and easy.

  "Mmm ... yeah, just like that.” His own hand slid farther down along Rig's crack, rubbing against his hole.

  "Yeah. Yeah, Blue.” Rig shifted, encouraging his touch, eyelashes teasing his skin.

  "You wanting, Rabbit?” He pushed the tip of his finger in, jonesing on the way Rig's body gripped it.

  "Uh-huh. Need you.” He could hear it, the way Rig needed him. He pushed his finger in the rest of the way, fucked Rig with it.

  "Got what you need right here."

  "You always have.” Rig moaned and spread, hips moving, sliding, riding his touch. He nudged his other finger against Rig's hole, letting his cowboy's own motions pull it in. Curling his fingers, he found Rig's gland.

  "Rock.” Rig's eyes flew open, belly going tight. “Goddamn, that's hot."

  "You sure it's not the water that's hot?” He hit Rig's gland again.

  "Uh. Uh-huh.” Oh, fuck, that was fine.

  He stared into those grey eyes and played Rig's body, fingers stretching and teasing, hitting that little bump over and over.

  "Don't stop, hmm? Just want to ride it ‘til I shoot."

  "Anything you want.” He could do this as long as Rig needed h
im to.

  "I want. Shit, I need.” Rig exhaled, long and slow, body shaking against him.

  "Come on, Rabbit. Give it to me and then I'll give it to you.” His cock throbbed; he needed to.

  "Kiss me.” Those lips lifted, raised to him.

  Rock slid his free hand behind Rig's head, holding it as his lips pressed down onto Rig's. His tongue pushed in, devouring Rig's mouth. Rig cried out, hips bucking, ass muscles fluttering around his fingers.

  He smiled into the kiss. He was still the stud.

  Rig chuckled, eyes happy and laughing. Yeah. Yeah, Rig knew it too.

  "You want to ride me?” he asked, fingers still buried, bumping against Rig's gland again. “Or you want to get out and bend over for me?"

  "I'll ride, Blue.” Rig gasped, legs sliding.

  "I thought you might.” He nudged Rig's gland again, free hand grabbing that perfect cowboy ass and lifting Rig up.

  "You know me.” Rig stretched, throat working, lips parted.

  "I do.” He slid his fingers out of Rig's body, using both hands to slide Rig over his cock, rubbing the head along that sweet crack. Leaning in, he licked at those sweet lips. Rig searched his eyes, just like his cowboy was hunting something, then Rig pushed into the kiss, tongue fucking him, good and hard. Groaning, he sucked on Rig's tongue, and shifted just enough that his prick was pushing into that sweet fucking hole.

  He heard Rig's moan, the sound vibrating his lips. Fuck, yeah. Yeah. He lowered Rig slowly, that tight ass taking more and more of his prick in, squeezing him tight. Groaning, he pushed up the last little bit, getting really deep.

  "Wish we could stay just like this."

  "Nah, you want me to do this.” He lifted Rig up, and thrust up as he brought that skinny body back down.

  "Oh ... Fuck.” Rig's head rolled, lips open, parted as the water splashed around them.

  "Yeah. Fuck.” He met Rig's eyes, grinning at his lover as he repeated the move, bringing that sweet body down hard. Nothing fucking like being buried deep inside Rig.

  "More. More, Blue. Now.” Demanding asshole.

  He loved it. He moved Rig faster, pushed up harder. The water around them splashed against the sides of the hot tub, splashed over it.

  When Rig relaxed, gave himself over to the pleasure, he felt it—arms and cock, hell, even inside. That was what he needed. Rig, right here, with him. They kept moving together, letting the water splash, letting everything go but each other. It was fucking good.

  "Now this is where we can fucking stay. Right here."

  "Yes. Yes, please. Right here.” Rig nodded, almost desperate.

  "I've got you, Rabbit.” He growled the words, and took Rig's mouth in a hard kiss. It blew his fucking mind, that deep, hard, amazing kiss. Just blew his mind.

  Groaning, almost disappointed, he shot, the orgasm going through him like lightning. It was fucking good, but over too damned quick. Rig floated for him, holding on, holding tight, the kiss easing some, making him breathless, still.

  Hands shifting to wrap around Rig's waist, he just held on, kept his Rabbit close.

  "Mmm. Thanks, Blue. Needed this."

  "I always have what you need right here."

  Rig nodded, swallowed and just held tight.

  He slowly stroked Rig's back, floated, the bubbles spraying, the heat making him sleepy.

  And that was okay. They could stay right here for awhile.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Rig waved goodbye to little Hank and his new baby sister, then headed back into the clinic.

  He'd self-medicated. He'd run a couple blood tests. He couldn't figure it. Still, he'd lost thirty pounds and it wasn't looking good on him, not at all, so ... He knocked on Sam's door, leaning on the doorframe a bit.

  Sam looked up from his desk, little wire-rimmed glasses just barely perched at the end of his long, skinny nose. “Hey, Alex. You done for the day?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I ... You busy, man?” Sam was a good guy, knew his shit.

  "Just paperwork.” It was pushed aside and Sam pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat."

  "Thanks, man.” He shut the door behind him, took a load off. “I got a problem, buddy, and I don't know how to start fixing it."

  Sam nodded. “I didn't want to go poking into your business, but you've been looking kind of wiped out lately. Well, for awhile now."

  "Yeah. I'm vomiting blood, I'm in a lot of pain, and I've lost damn near thirty two pounds in the last six months. Something's wrong, Sammy, and I can't figure it.” There.

  There, it was out.

  Now maybe he could start fixing it.

  "Jesus, Alex, you should have come to me sooner."

  "Yeah. I ran some basic blood work, tried the normal stuff—ulcers, hiatal hernia. The works. Help?"

  Sam pulled an empty patient folder out of his desk drawer and opened it up, put his name on it. “All right—you have copies of your blood work?"

  "Yeah. Yeah.” He handed the sheaf of papers over. “My momma ... she just died two Februarys ago, remember. Liver cancer. Just for history's sake."

  Just for history.

  Please, God. Don't do this to his men.

  "Yeah, I remember.” Sam took the papers and added them to the folder, glancing at them quickly. “Okay, first things first we're not going to assume the worst, okay? I'm going to take all your symptoms down and we'll make a list of all the things it could possibly be and then just work our way through them until we find it."

  He nodded, relaxing back into his chair. Yeah. “Yeah, okay."

  Oh. Oh, he could do this.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Presents weren't Rock's strong point. Left to his own devices he would invariably wind up purchasing something practical. And there was nothing wrong with buying Rig a new fully loaded tool box or a new set of deck chairs, but it lacked the flair that Dick could manage, so he usually left it to the kid. Every now and then though, he'd see something or an idea would pop into his head and he'd go ahead and buy something frivolous or fun or special. Of course he usually felt like a dork and returned the item, or just sort of flung it at Rig or the kid, depending on who it was for.

  The package in the front seat of his truck was a flinger.

  A doeskin jacket with fringes and silver and blue beads worked in. It was soft as anything and the perfect size for his favorite cowboy. The chick at the counter had insisted on wrapping it, making a big fucking deal about it and now he was stuck.

  Rock picked it up with a sigh and went in. He just didn't do sweet and thoughtful. It wasn't his style. He found Rig in his office. He knocked, package under his arm.

  "Come on in. I'm decent!” Rig sounded happy, peaceful in that ‘I'm pottering around and fixing to rearrange furniture’ way that sparked terror in lesser men.

  Of course he didn't have to go in. He could take ‘fling the gift’ to a whole new level and just leave it by the door.

  Yeah, that sounded good. He'd leave Rig the present and go fix himself a sandwich. He put the box on the floor and knocked again before heading to the kitchen.

  It didn't take long before Rig's steps sounded, his redneck holding the wrapped box. “Look what I found.” Shining grey eyes smiled at him, then Rig interrupted his sandwich-making to take a long kiss. “Hey, Blue."

  "Hey. Did you open it?” he asked causally.

  "Not yet. Wanted my kiss first.” Rig gave him a grin. “I bought new bookshelves for the office and the bedroom, so we could get those boxes out of the garage."

  His own personal slut kept chattering, but headed straight for the box. “I figured with Dick's schoolbooks and the paperwork from the office and the gym and ... Oh ... Oh, Blue!"

  Rig pulled the jacket out, eyes just shining.

  "You like it?” he asked, voice rough.

  Rig slipped it on, fingers sliding over the doeskin. “Oh, damn! I'll be the finest dressed fucking cowboy on the west coast!"

  It took about ten or fifteen more seconds of
Rig admiring the jacket, then his arms were filled with his Rabbit. “Thank you. It's fucking wonderful."

  He grunted, holding Rig close. “It seemed like something you'd like."

  "It's perfect—so soft!” Rig reached up, twining long arms around his neck. “So good to me. However will I thank you..."

  He grinned. “I have an idea or two."

  "Mmm ... yeah? Gonna whisper in my ear?” That long, slim body was snuggled in close, moving against him.

  "You need me to tell you?” he teased, hands going to Rig's ass, tugging him in closer.

  "Want to make sure I get it right.” Rig licked the corner of his mouth, breath sweet.

  Rock chuckled. “Well you know how much I love that mouth."

  "Mmm ... I do.” Warm and wicked, a series of little kisses trailed up along his jaw towards his ear. “Gonna fuck my mouth, Blue?"

  "If that's what you want,” he answered, mouth trying to capture Rig's.

  Rig's chuckle tickled his skin. “Want you. Always."

  He rumbled happily. “Ditto."

  That got him Rig's mouth, full-on and focused, kissing him with that mind-blowing hunger that made him feel ten feet tall. He returned the kiss, returned the focus, body hard and wanting for this man. One of Rig's hands worked his slacks open, fingers wrapping around his cock and pumping slowly. He pulled Rig's tongue into his mouth, sucking as his hands tightened on his Rabbit's ass.

  A needy little noise pushed into his lips, Rigger gasping as those fingers tightened around his prick, thumb teasing the head. Another rumble came from him and he pushed his hips into Rig's hand, enjoying the slide of his cock along Rig's skin. Steady and sure he was touched and stroked, kissed and held. Rig knew his body better than he did, knew how to make him want, make him need, make him happy.

  Rock spread his legs, finding his balance as he rocked into Rig's hand.

  "Blue. So fucking hot.” Rig was rubbing against his hip, gasping into his mouth.

  "You know it,” he murmured, hands on Rig's ass bringing his Rabbit in harder against his muscles.

  Rig whimpered, tongue sliding into his lips. “Could do this forever."