Stalking the Firedawg

by Keely Jakes

  Fluffing the covers to conceal his own raging erection, Hawk watched Stewart walk around the bed to collapse into the recliner between the bed and the window. “You okay, mouse?”

  “Uh-huh,” Stewart answered with a nod and a grin. Reaching down, he picked up the spare pillow Hawk had tossed to the floor earlier and settled it over the prominent bulge in his lap. “I might have a solution to your housing problem, if you’re interested in getting out of here. You could stay with me. I live in a one-story house not too far from the base.”

  Before Hawk could turn over Stewart’s offer in his sluggishly working brain, the privacy curtain swooshed back and Mrs. Randall stepped into the room. “That’s the perfect solution, Stewart. And I’ll help in any way I can since this is all Piewhackit’s fault to begin with.”

  Hawk blinked, then settled back, unable to keep up with the conversation as his lunch sent him into a food coma happy place where worries did not exist. He listened but did not comment as Stewart and Mrs. Randall made plans for his short-term future. He did not even argue when Mrs. Randall picked up and pushed the call button.

  When a nurse appeared a few minutes later, they dragged her into assisting with the planning as well. Though he wanted to argue that he did not want to impose on the little man’s life, Hawk remained silent. As long as he ended up with Stewart somewhere in his life, he would go along with whatever they decided. Later, once they were alone, he would figure out how to get Stewart into his bed.

  Two hours later, Hawk found himself sitting with his casted leg stretched across the back seat of Mrs. Randall’s luxury sedan as she followed Stewart’s bright pink van down the highway.

  ****

  As he turned off the highway onto the road the led to his home, Stewart tried to remember how much of a mess he had left behind that morning as he raced off for the day. Between attending classes, studying, and running his business, he hardly spent any time in the place he currently called home. When he was there all he did was sleep, shower, and change clothes. He was not even sure there was anything to eat in the kitchen. Once he got Hawk settled, he would have to make a grocery run.

  First, he would have to ask if his houseguest had any food allergies or preferences.

  Grabbing the digital recorder in the cupholder between the seats, Stewart turned it on and began to talk through a grocery list and then other errands that would need to be done ASAP as well as a list of things he would need to do to make Hawk’s stay as comfortable as possible. Condoms, lube, and every manly comfort food known to mankind topped the list.

  By the time he parked in front of his little house, he finished the list of immediate to-do’s and moved on to ways to keep Hawk entertained during the next couple of weeks while he recuperated. The man would sleep a lot, but probably only for the next day or two. Then Stewart would have a grumpy, immobilized firedawg to deal with.

  He waited until Mrs. Randall parked next to him before climbing out of his van. He hurried around her car to help Hawk into his wheelchair, which he then pushed up the slight ramp to the open area under the shed roof.

  “You live here?” Mrs. Randall asked as she looked around with curious interest.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stewart answered, not sure if she was impressed or horrified that he lived in an oversized, renovated tobacco barn.

  After moving in with his grandfather in high school, Stewart claimed the old barn as his own. His grandfather and a handful of his retired friends helped, teaching him the skills he needed, and assisting. Stewart had done most of the work himself, to include digging the ditches to run water and sewer.

  His grandfather only called professionals in when absolutely necessary, and even then, Stewart worked by the professional’s side as an unpaid apprentice. By the end of his first summer, the building had plumbing, electricity, and a heating/air conditioning unit installed. That winter he worked on adding insulation to the walls and roof, building a platform for a second bed and walls around the bedroom and bathroom.

  Doing so much of the work himself taught Stewart that he was not interested in spending his life as a builder. Once he finished decorating his home, he sat down and took a long, hard look at his life and what he wanted to do with it. Having fun, helping people, and being in air conditioning as much as possible topped the list.

  His grandfather’s friends were the ones who actually helped him come up with the idea for Runaround Stew’s. They were getting older and often called him to run errands for them, whether it was to pay a late electric bill in person before the power was turned off, or pick up a few groceries, or pet sit a beloved pet, they needed someone they trusted and felt comfortable with. And now he would be playing host to a Marine firedawg who he would be happy to put up for the rest of his life, if Hawk would just give him a sign that he had a chance.

  Hawk remained silent, as if withholding judgment for the moment as he looked over the small building Stewart had painted several years before.

  “It looks better on the inside,” Stewart said as he dug into his pocket for his keys. “I’m hoping to get the outside repainted in a couple of weeks once the semester is over.”

  “It’s very unique,” Mrs. Randall said as she looked around.

  “Thanks, I did most of the work myself.”

  “Really?” Hawk finally joined the conversation.

  “Well, about eighty percent. My grandfather and some of his friends supervised and helped a little,” Stewart said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  Mrs. Randall entered first while Stewart pushed Hawk’s wheelchair in after her. He sighed when the cool air wrapped around them. Looking at the man who would be in his charge for the next few weeks, a new worry struck.

  “If it’s too cold, let me know. I can turn the temperature up.”

  Hawk gave a single head nod without speaking. Stewart bit his lower lip as he waited for his guests to look around and assess his home. As Mrs. Randall had already said, it was unique. And colorful. And represented Stewart’s soul. Which might be why only a few people had ever been inside. Most of the people he knew were too critical of his bohemian lifestyle, so he could only imagine what they would say if they saw his gypsy caravan inspired home.

  He was surprised at how much Hawk’s approval, or at least acceptance, of his home meant to him. He smiled at Mrs. Randall as she gushed at various aspects, obviously trying to make Hawk feel better about staying there.

  Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer. Stepping around the wheelchair, he looked at the man sitting in it. “Well, what do you think, Sergeant Hawkins? Will you be able to stay here for the next few weeks? Or will it give you nightmares or rashes or something?”

  ****

  Hawk looked around the room, blinked, and looked around the room again. The pain meds made his thinking sluggish, and he was still trying to grasp the fact that Stewart, the cute, sweet, little mouse he wanted to fuck until neither of them could move, had turned this building from a tobacco barn into a house. And not just a house, but a home. While the outside still looked like a rough-edged tobacco barn, on the inside it looked like one of those high-end tiny homes that whole television series were devoted to.

  In this case, it had the look of an old-timey wooden camper he had seen somewhere, only Stewart had twisted it with a beachy theme. The ceiling was the intense blue of a Carolina sky in March complete with puffy white clouds floating overhead. The top part of the walls was painted a buttery yellow while the bottom was covered with a finished dark wood that matched the hardwood floors.

  The main room contained a living area with flat-screen television with silky-looking fabrics draped around it so it looked more like a window than a television. Though smaller than Hawk was used to, a full kitchen filled one corner with a small wooden table and two chairs just a few steps away.

  The few pieces of furniture that made up the rest of the great room were soft and puffy and covered with richly toned fabrics, and every one of them had some kind of fuzzy blanket
tossed over the back. There would be plenty of room to maneuver his wheelchair around, once he was able to use his hand again.

  Hawk took a breath when he realized Stewart was waiting for an answer. “It’s definitely a giant step up from my dorm room on base. And no, I don’t think I’ll have any nightmares, rashes, or other negative reactions to staying here. Thank you for opening your home to me, mouse,” he said, turning to smile up at the man who was quickly becoming his savior.

  Stewart’s breath whooshed out, proving he had been holding it while Hawk looked around. “I’m glad,” he said with a bright grin. He pointed to an opening on the wall to their left that had what looked like a sliding barn door to secure it. “The bedroom is through there. The bathroom is an en-suite with a walk-in tub and shower combination, though you probably won’t be able to use that for a while.”

  Hawk chuckled. “Probably not.”

  At that point, Mrs. Randall headed for the door. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in, Sergeant. Stewart, if you need anything, please let me know.” And with that, she was out the door and the two men were alone.

  Chapter Four

  “Damn,” Hawk said as he pulled on his last clean pair of sweatpants and the t-shirt he had worn home from the hospital the day before.

  It had just occurred to Hawk that he should have imposed on Mrs. Randall’s good nature when she offered. Someone needed to go to his room in the base dormitory for the rest of his gear. Or at least the rest of his boxers and a few more shirts.

  He was not sure how the dorm manager would take his not being there for the next month or more. The last thing Hawk needed was for everything he owned to be packed up and stored somewhere until he was able to return to his room. Military packers were not known to be careful packing and moving. They were more likely to toss everything in a box, and sometimes things got packed that should be thrown away. On his last move, when he unpacked, he found the packers had packed the half-eaten ham sandwich he had left on the counter when he was called to another room for a two-minute conversation.

  “What’s wrong?” Stewart asked from where he was standing just outside the partially open door. The sweet man had trying to give Hawk privacy while he wiped himself down and changed clothes. Bathing was going to be a challenge for the next few weeks, especially since this house only had a clawfoot tub with a handheld shower

  “Come on in, mouse. It’s not like we’re not going to see each other naked at some point now that we’re living together.”

  When Stewart entered several moments later, Hawk was trying himself transfer himself from the bed into his wheelchair.

  “What’s wrong?” the little man said as he crossed to Hawk’s side to help.

  Not sure how wimpy he was going to sound, Hawk waited until he was situated in the chair before speaking. “I need my stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “My stuff from my dorm room. The rest of my clothes, my pillow, my books. You know, my stuff,” Hawk said. He heard his voice growing more and more demanding and whiney with each word.

  “It’s okay, we can get your stuff. That’s not a problem,” Stewart said as he sat down on the edge of the bed so they were eye to eye. “Can it wait until morning, or do we need to go get it right now?”

  The concern he saw in Stewart’s eyes put a giant hole in the bubble of anxiety that had been filling Hawk’s chest. With a sigh, he said, “It can wait until morning, but we’ll need Mrs. Randall’s help. They won’t let just anyone in the dormitory, and I won’t be able to go up with you.”

  Stewart patted his healthy knee and gave him the sweetest smile that flipped him completely out of anxiety and into arousal. “Don’t worry, Hawk. We will figure out how to get your stuff. Now, what would you like for dinner?”

  Instead of answering the question, Hawk reached out with his good hand. Sliding it around the back of Stewart’s neck, he pulled gently until Stewart leaned forward far enough for Hawk to reach the man’s pouty lips. His cock twitched when Stewart laid a hand against his cheek and then parted his lips when his tongue stroked over the seam between them. What started out as a soft, gentle kiss quickly spiraled out of control. Lips and teeth clashed as tongues dueled, until they finally had to break apart in order to catch up on their breathing.

  Grabbing his shoulder, Hawk pulled, urging the little man closer and then climb up into the chair so was straddling Hawk’s lap. Wrapping both arms around his mouse, Hawk returned to kissing the man even as his hips shifted, wanting to press his rock-hard cock up into the man’s ass and fuck him until they melted into a conjoined pile of goo.

  He growled deep in his chest when Stewart pulled back, breaking the kiss. Before the man could get any farther away, Hawk wrapped a hand around his neck to hold him where he was.

  “Tell me now if you don’t want this to continue, mouse. Otherwise I’m going to do my damnedest to plant my cock in your ass in a way that you’ll never want it to leave.”

  Stewart blinked, and then his cheeks began to pink up even more than they had been. “And if I do … want this to continue, that is?”

  “Then I’ll be a very, very happy man,” Hawk said just before his stomach growled in a long, loud sound that had them both laughing in response.

  Then, before Hawk could stop him, Stewart climbed down from his lap and boldly adjusted the bulge that was pressing at the zipper of his jeans. The man went around to the back of the wheelchair and, after flipping the lock, pushed him out to the main room. “For now, let’s get some dinner. Afterward, we’ll call Mrs. Randall about getting your stuff from the dorm. Now, what would you like for dinner?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any tomato soup? Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup are my favorite comfort foods. I think it has something to do with the fact that Mom always gave them to me when I was home sick.”

  “Actually, I think I just might. We can work up a menu for the next few days over dinner, and I’ll go shopping later,” Stewart said as he set the brake on the wheelchair, then handed Hawk the remote that worked the television and cable box.

  “Sounds good,” Hawk said, even as he fought down a yawn.

  Washing up and changing clothes should not have made him so tired, but it was all he could do to make it through dinner before asking Stewart to help him to bed.

  ****

  After putting Hawk to bed, Stewart opened the cupboards in his miniscule kitchen and made a shopping list. Once that was completed, he went through his schedule for the next morning, and called Mrs. Randall, who agreed to make a few calls and have Hawk’s belongings delivered to his house.

  Not wanting to leave Hawk alone for the hour or more it would take to run to the grocery store, Stewart spent the rest of the evening at the tiny dining room table, studying. When his eyes began to cross, and the words blurred on the page, he decided it was time to crash. Instead of climbing to the loft where the guest bed was located, he lay on the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket down from the back so it covered him.

  As usual, he was asleep in minutes, though sexy thoughts of what he wanted to do to and with Hawk continued to run through his brain all night long.

  He was awake before dawn and had everything packed and ready for his day by the time he heard Hawk call his name. Hurrying to the half-open door, Stewart stopped before setting foot into what was now the guest quarters. “Good morning, what can I help you with?”

  “I need some help, please,” Hawk said, sounding a little distressed.

  Stewart crossed to the side of the bed. “Okay, what do you need?”

  He mentally noted the urinal the nurses said Hawk would be grateful for sat on the nightstand, waiting to be emptied. He bit the inside of his cheek even as his cheeks began to burn when Hawk flipped back the sheet that was covering his lower body. “Oh, my,” Stewart breathed as he saw Hawk’s fully erect cock for the first time. It was a thing of masculine beauty, even if the head was nearly purple with what had to be angry need.

  Stewart had
to force his gaze away from the raging erection and focus on the man’s face. When he realized Hawk had seen him practically drool over his cock, his face began to burn.

  “I know this is way beyond the call of duty, but help, please? If I don’t get some relief soon, it might explode, or fall off, or something.”

  Licking his lips, Stewart felt the blood in his body surge into his groin, filling his own cock in the next few seconds. Nodding, he did not ask the question uppermost on his mind. Instead he stepped closer to the bed, bent over, and took the head of Hawk’s cock into his mouth. Breathing through his nose, he lowered himself as far as he could down the shaft before pulling back up again. Diving down again, he went even further, this time until he gagged on the head at the back of his throat before pulling off.

  He relaxed his throat and went further on the next pass, this time taking Hawk’s impressive length to the root. When he came up, he stopped with just the head in his mouth. Closing his lips around the shaft, he sucked just the bulbous tip for a five-count before diving deep again.

  Hawk’s reaction was instantaneous and filled Stewart with a happiness he had not felt in a long, long time. The injured man grabbed his head with his good hand, but instead of directing his motions, the fingers just held on, allowing him to move freely as he continued to suck and slobber up and down the length of his long, thick shaft. His grunts, groans, and panting sounds had Stewart’s own cock begging for relief. He opened his pants, pulled out his cock, and began stroking it at the same pace he was moving up and down Hawk’s length.

  It only took a few strokes before he was shooting his load onto the floor, while sucking harder and faster on the one in his mouth. Hawk roared as his body bowed up from the bed and his cock spasmed, and released its load. Stewart sucked and swallowed and then sucked some more on the softening cock, cleaning it gently before releasing it. After giving the tip a kiss, he straightened.

  “Damn, mouse, you’re good at that,” Hawk murmured, his words a little slurry.