Title: Epiphanies and Grenades
Pen name: fardareismai2
Disclaimer: SM owns these characters. I just like to play in her sandbox.
To see the rest of the entries in this contest, please visit the FML C2 http://www . fanfiction . net/community/FML_Contest_Fics/77195/ (remove spaces for link to work)
A/N: I wanted to give a special thanks to my beta, VanPireNZ for her eagle eyes, and to Dannie7786 for pre-reading and reassuring me. Also, I have to give a shout out to all the WC Peeps who encouraged me as I wrote this. Thank you all.
The cold was painful. It crept into my bones and made my skin feel tight, like I was freezing from the inside out. I stood and stomped my feet, desperate to retain some circulation, although the foxhole wasn't tall enough for me to straighten up completely. The ground was frozen, so we couldn't dig deep, but we'd been lucky and found a natural hollow that we dug out a bit more. A fallen tree trunk and blanket pulled over the top provided us with meager shelter, but it was better than the body-sized depressions some of the men were stuck in. I looked over at Clearwater, curled up and sleeping while I was on watch. His breath showed as soft, white puffs in the frigid air, and he clutched the blanket around himself tightly. As much as I envied him the sleep, I also knew that he would wake up stiff and cold and sore.
Winter was harsh in the Ardennes, and we'd been in the forest near Bastogne for a week, determined to stop the German advance, and prevent them from taking the port at Antwerp. I'm not going to lie though, it was fucking miserable. Snow was on the ground and our supplies and boots were wearing thin; even our medic was scrounging bandages and morphine from the men. The fighting was nearly constant, and casualties were high.
It was a quiet night though. Even the Germans were too cold and miserable to put up a fight. I looked at my watch and kicked Seth. He grunted, and without opening his eyes said, "What?"
"Your turn on watch."
He sat up and scrubbed his face. In the dark I could barely make out his expression, his russet colored Indian skin providing him with a natural camouflage in the dark. Although we were both from the same part of Washington State, we'd never met before jump training. The Quileute rarely left the reservation and, well, white folk and Indians just didn't mix much. They even had their own school on the res.
When he first arrived, the other guys gave him a hard time, and called him the Washington Redskin. He kept to himself mostly. One day though we were both stuck cleaning the john; me for not polishing my shoes properly, him for well, just being him.
"Clearwater," I said, tossing him a scrub brush. He looked surprised. "What?" I asked.
He shrugged and said, "You didn't call me the Washington Redskin."
"Yeah, well, I don't think it's right," I stammered, embarrassed for some reason.
We worked on in silence, but then I asked, "Why'd you join? I mean, you had to know it was going to be rough."
He was quiet for a moment and then said, "My uncle was on the Arizona."
We didn't say anything else.
A week later some of the guys were having a go at him again, and I told them to back off. Clearwater didn't say anything, but he looked at me, and I felt like I was being weighed and measured.
D-Day, however, changed everything. Three of the 101st's regiments were airdropped at night, and we were scattered to the wind. Clearwater managed to round up a rather large group of men, and lead them safely to the rendezvous. After that, there were no more Washington Redskin jokes, and the men began to include him more, although he tended to remain aloof.
Clearwater brought me back to the present when he said, "I gotta take a piss, then you can get some sleep." He slipped out of the foxhole, quiet as a mouse. I don't know what they taught the kids on the res, but it wasn't just for shits and giggles that he was our number one scout. I wouldn't be surprised if the kid could sneak into a German foxhole, steal their wallets, and get back without being detected. It was unnerving.
I have to say, I felt better knowing he had my six.
A few minutes later he returned, and cracked open a can of rations.
"It's a quiet night," I told him as I pulled my thin blanket around me.
Clearwater merely grunted and leaned against the dirt wall of the foxhole, his rifle between his legs like an obscene phallic symbol as he proceeded to wolf down whatever was in the can.
Despite the cold, I fell asleep quickly, my body worn and exhausted. I don't know what woke me, and I was about to rearrange my limbs and go back to sleep, when I heard something; a soft grunt, and a whisper, although I couldn't make it out. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, what I saw made me hold my breath.
Clearwater was on his knees, his pants around his thighs, and he was stroking his massive hard on. I was shocked. I was uncomfortable. I was fascinated. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, off of him. I knew I should close my eyes and pretend to sleep. Hell, I should have just gone back to sleep; guys did this all the time, but I was mesmerized. It was just . . . so big, and the way his large hand kept sliding up and down, his thumb occasionally grazing over the tip was . . . beautiful. He was beautiful.
His head was tilted back and his full, red lips were parted as he panted quietly. Clearwater's face was a study in beauty and lust; high cheekbones sloped up to the edges of his almond shaped eyes, which were closed in pleasure. His brow furrowed in concentration and a small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.
He was grunting quietly, and I noticed his hips begin to thrust in time to his strokes. Fuck. My dick had become hard as steel as I watched him, and I didn't understand what was happening to me. I wasn't queer! Fuck, I had a girl back home. But watching Seth, watching the abandon with which he was stroking himself, the beauty of him as he did it . . . I'd never been so fucking hard in my life.
"I know you're watching me," his whisper broke the silence.
"Wha? Huh?" Fuck. I should have stayed quiet. I should have pretended to sleep.
"I can feel your eyes on me." His hand didn't stop, although I noticed it did slow down. "I like your eyes on me, Edward."
I shuddered at the sound of my name from his lips. It was said with a low growl, like a wild dog or a wolf.
He turned to me and whispered, "Edward. Do you like what you see?"
I couldn't have stopped my mouth if I wanted to. "Yes."
He moaned quietly, his hand never ceasing its motion. "I've been watching you, Edward. You . . . do you have any idea what you do to me?"
I swallowed hard. He'd been watching me? I had this effect on him? My cock began to throb painfully against the stiff khakis of my uniform.
"You are so gorgeous, and you don't even know it. And you're brave and commanding. And when you talk, all I can do is watch your lips and wonder what they would feel like pressed against mine."
I felt my breath come out in a whoosh.
I realized he had stopped touching himself, and had moved closer to me.
"I—" I was cut off as his mouth came down over mine.
Oh God! Oh God I'm kissing a man and it's . . . it's . . . oh God, don't stop.
Never had anything felt so good. His lips were soft and full and insistent, and he tasted like cinnamon and tobacco. It was fucking delicious, and I opened my mouth for more. My hands lay still for a moment, and as I felt him begin to pull away, they flew to his head. It was an instinctive reaction, and I grabbed his hair, grown a little long from our time in the field, well long enough for me to grasp and tug and pull him closer, and I groaned into his mouth.
"Edward," he whispered against my mouth. "Oh, Edward," he repeated as he parted my lips with his tongue and tasted me fully, delving and exploring and oh fuck, fuck, yes!
And then his body was lying on top of mine and it was so, so . . . right. The weight of him, the feel of him against me, and his mouth continuing its assault on mine, just like the Germans outside. He fisted his hands in the lapels of my jacket and ground his hips against mine, and oh, yes, yes, yes as I ground back.
My hands trailed down his back and then there was the soft, hot flesh of his ass in my hands, and his groan filled my mouth. Squeezing and pulling and pressing him harder against me. So good, so fucking good.
My hips bucked and circled and ground against his, and I heard him whimper. "Fuck, Edward." Then his hot hands were sliding under my shirt and burning my skin. "Want you so bad," he whispered against my neck as he licked and nipped his way down my throat.
What was this boy doing to me? I'd never felt anything like this before. I wasn't a virgin. In fact, I'd gotten my girl back home, Jessica, to sleep with me before I left—in case I didn't make it back. But never, even in the hottest make out sessions in the back of my dad's Chevy, had I felt anything like this.
I wanted to devour him. I wanted to dissolve into him. Fuck, I just wanted him. I slid my hands up from his ass, under his shirt, stroking the soft skin of his back as his fingers pulled and pinched my nipples. His tongue worked its way back up my throat until finally his lips claimed mine again and he began to fuck my mouth with his tongue.
I was moaning and whimpering under him, every nerve in my body alight because of him. He broke off from my mouth and whispered in my ear, "I want to make you feel good baby. Will you let me?"
Was he fucking kidding me? "Oh God yes!" I whispered back harshly, and I heard him chuckle as he slid down my body.
His mouth was kissing my stomach where it could reach, because it was just too cold to take our clothes completely off. I bucked slightly when his tongue dipped into my belly button and swirled around it. His hands made quick work of my belt, my boots, and my pants, and for a moment panic flared in my gut, but then his hand gripped my dick tightly and every rational thought flew out of my head.
He stroked me, his hand firm and warm, and the skin so soft and then I felt something wet. I looked down and saw his tongue swipe across my tip.
Is he? No! Oh fuck yes he is! Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!
His mouth descended over me and it was hot, wet silk, and suction and oh my fucking hell! I couldn't tear my eyes off him as his head bobbed up and down, and his tongue swirled and licked and tasted.
I felt my stomach coil and tense in anticipation. I tried to warn him, "I'm gonna, I'm gonna, oh shit, oh . . . oh," I bit the back of my hand to silence my screams as I erupted into his mouth. He didn't stop, didn't miss a beat and continued to suck me through my orgasm as my hips writhed and my legs twitched and my brain shut down completely.
Finally, he released me from his mouth and looked up at me. "You taste so fucking good," he whispered.
I managed a pathetic whimper in response. I'd just cum in another man's mouth and it was the most incredible, most erotic experience of my life. I was limp and languid, and I didn't hesitate to comply when he turned me over and pulled me to my knees. He came up and over me, kissing my neck, nipping my earlobe and he whispered, "If you liked that, you're going to love this."
Pushing my shirt up, he planted kisses down my spine and when he reached my ass he kissed each cheek before spreading them with his hands. I tensed for a moment, unsure of what he was doing, and then I felt it.
I felt his warm tongue circle my hole and then press up against it.
Oh fucking hell he is!
I'd heard of it. Guys told crude jokes about it, but it was almost like an urban legend. There was always the one guy who claimed to have had it done by some whore somewhere, but here I was on my knees with someone's tongue up my ass. Not just someone's tongue, but another man's tongue.
And it's amazing!
My head fell down between my arms and I bit down on my pack to keep quiet. His tongue was fluttering around and gently probing, and then he was thrusting it in and out and oh sweet baby Jesus he's fucking me with his tongue!
I was getting loose and relaxed and slick, while at the same time my dick was getting hard all over again. He slid a finger in, and at first I bucked away from the intrusion, but he gripped my hip and pulled me closer, moving it slowly and gently until I was moving with him, pushing back against his hand.
"That's it, baby," he crooned. "Let me make you feel good."
I thrust against him harder. I didn't recognize myself anymore. Who was this wanton creature shamelessly fucking himself on another man's hand? But it felt too good to question for long, especially after he slid another finger in and started hitting a spot inside that made my eyes roll back in my head.
When he pulled his fingers out I whimpered and pushed back, seeking them once again. He laughed quietly and smacked my ass. "Eager are we? Don't worry, Edward. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."
I heard rustling and then I felt his fingers again, warm and slick with something pressing into me again, parting and opening me, stretching me. His other hand reached around and began stroking me once more, and it was also slick with a smooth substance.
"Huh?" I mumbled inarticulately.
"Vaseline," he whispered as he continued to stroke me inside and out.
I was thrusting mindlessly once more as his fingers withdrew and then I felt pressure at my entrance.
Fuck no! He's going to fuck me? Oh God! Oh do I want this? No. Yes. No. Yes. His head slipped in and fuck if it didn't hurt like hell and I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron on my hip and he continued sliding his hand over my dick with long, sure strokes.
"Relax, Edward. Relax. I promise I'm going to make you feel so fucking good."
I thought about the size of him and began to panic again, but then his hand on my cock squeezed and I groaned and yes, yes, fuck yes! My body began to relax, and he slid in inch by inch until I was filled completely. He leaned against my back.
"You feel so fucking good Edward. Oh God, fucking hell, you're so God damned tight."
I tried to move, but he whimpered above me. "Don't. Not yet. Give me a second or this will be over before it starts."
I stilled and after a minute he began to move—slow, deep thrusts. He'd pull out almost all the way and then push back in. His hand kept time on my cock and I was falling apart from the inside out. Long, steady strokes, both within and without, were pushing me to the edge.
And he was over me and on me, his chest pressed tight to my back, the heat of him searing me.
So warm, so strong, feels so good oh oh oh yes, like that!
I was lost in sensation and pleasure, every nerve running riot through my body and warming me in a way no stolen sips of whiskey or stealthily heated cup of coffee could. He continued his slow worship of my body, and I dropped down to my elbows, my head between my forearms and heard him groan at the deeper access it afforded him. I panted as the pleasure mounted and he hit parts of me I never knew existed.
"Clearwater, shit! Oh fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck," I grunted.
He pushed all the way in and stilled.
"What? No. Don't stop," I begged and tried to move.
He gripped me tight, giving me no room to move. "Say my name, Edward. Say my name."
"Seth!" I cried and heard him exhale. "Please, Seth . . . please don't stop."
"Oh God, Edward," he crooned against my neck. "I've waited so long to hear you call me by my name."
He began to move once more, but then suddenly pulled out. I whimpered at the loss.
What the fuck? No, no, no! Don't stop what?
"I need to see you," he breathed, and he gently turned me over, laying me on my back on the thin, wool blanket. He pressed his lips to mine as he lifted my hips and guided himself back inside me.
"O . . . ohhh," I grunted into his mouth as he filled me once more.
And there it was. So much more intimate. It was no longer happening to me; I was a part of it.
"Edward," he whispered, and kissed me again as he pressed forward.
He lifted my knees, hooking them around his upper arms and pushed deeper, nearly folding me in half.
"Oh Jesus, Seth!"
He groaned against my neck and began thrusting harder and deeper and oh my fuck, what is that? It feels . . . it feels . . . oh fuck, I'm going to cum again and he isn't even touching my dick!
I looked up at him with what I'm sure was a look of awe.
"Fuck, Edward, you're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful," he said, never breaking his gaze from mine.
My eyes began to slide shut as I felt my balls tighten, "Seth," I panted, "I'm gonna, I'm gonna . . ."
"Look at me," he demanded.
My eyes flew open at the commanding tone of his voice.
"That's it baby," he crooned as he changed the angle of his thrusts. "Now cum for me baby. I wanna watch you cum for me."
Fucking hell! He . . . he . . . and fuck he's the beautiful one, and oh God he feels so good, and I . . . I . . .
"Oh Seth! Oh shit, shit, shit! Seth! Oh God!" I cried as I came all over my chest.
"Fucking beautiful," he muttered before he gripped my thighs and began pumping faster and harder, drawing out my orgasm until my toes were twitching and my eyes rolled back in my head. My back arched and he finally slammed into me with a loud grunt and stilled as I felt him fill me. His head fell into the crook of my neck and he kissed me softly. He moved his forehead to mine and kissed me once more.
"Thank you, baby," he whispered against my lips. "Thank you."
"Mmmm," I responded inarticulately. I couldn't have spoken if my life depended on it.
He pulled out gently, but I still winced; it dawned on me that I would probably be quite sore, but I didn't regret it, not a minute of it. Of course, I hadn't even begun to figure out what this meant, for me, about me, for Seth, for my life back home, if I ever made it home.
Seth used a shirt or something to gently wipe me, before helping me get my pants back on, then he plopped down next to me and drew me close to him. I rested my head on his shoulder as I tried to process everything.
We chuckled and he said, "You first."
I took a breath and said, "Ummm, I've never . . . ummm, this was—"
He put a finger over my mouth. "I know. Thank you for sharing it with me." He removed his finger and kissed me lightly.
"It's not just that Seth. I've never even thought about a guy this way before. Does this make me queer? I mean, are you queer? I just . . . I don't understand. I just know that I've never felt anything like that in my life. You made me . . . it was . . . ah, fuck," I muttered as I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to keep tears from escaping the corners of my eyes.
Seth laughed lightly.
"I'm glad you think this is funny," I huffed at him.
"I'm sorry, Edward," he said, trying to school his smile. "To answer your questions, yes, I'm most definitely 'queer,' although we prefer homosexual or gay. As for you," he paused, "I have no idea what this means. There are some guys who bat for both teams, if you catch my drift, but I can't tell you what this is for you. That's something you're gonna have to figure out for yourself."
I thought about what he said for a minute.
"When did you figure out that you were, uh, gay?" I asked, tripping a little over the word.
He laughed again. "Oh, I think I've always known. I was just never into girls. My first crush was on my eighth grade math teacher, Mr. Call. Do you have any idea how awkward it is to get hard in math class?" he laughed.
"Actually I do," I snorted. "In eighth grade I was partnered up with Bella Swan for science. I had to share a desk with her, and I had the biggest crush on her. I was forever adjusting myself under the table. It was horrible."
We both chuckled for a minute and then fell silent again.
"Edward, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and if nothing ever happens again I understand, but I'm not gonna lie, I really hope it happens again," he finished with a whisper.
"I think," I whispered back, "I think I'd like that."
He leaned over and kissed me again. "Thank God," he whispered into my mouth as he kissed me; deep, slow and soft. He pulled back and looked at me. "Now get some sleep," he grinned and pulled me close, covering us with a blanket.
I was jolted awake by the sound of heavy gunfire. Seth and I both scrambled for our guns and began firing back. In the tree line I saw movement, and it wasn't ours. They were trying to sneak up on us.
"Cover me," I whispered to Seth, and I slithered out of the foxhole, staying low until I was in throwing range. I'd played baseball in school, and if it hadn't been for the war, I might have tried out for the pros. I pulled a grenade from my belt, yanked the pin with my teeth and threw it into the tree line.
The forest erupted in splinters of wood and smoke and screams. And then there was screaming right next to me. I looked around but couldn't see anyone, and yet the screams didn't stop and then, I opened my eyes.
Instead of a frozen forest in the middle of Belgium, I was in my bed. I was naked, and pressed up against a warm, soft body, and we were sticky with my cum. "Band of Brothers" was still playing on the television, and I looked up into the pained and horror stricken face of my girlfriend, Leah. She was clutching her breast and sobbing, her screams subsiding.
"WHAT THE FUCK EDWARD?" she yelled at me.
Something was in my mouth and I spit it out. It landed on the sheet with a dull thud, and I gagged when I realized it was Leah's nipple ring; Leah's very bloody nipple ring. I looked up at her, aghast.
"Fuck that hurts! And did you just come on me while screaming my brother's name?" she continued, jumping out of bed and scrambling for some clothes, while trying to keep pressure on her bleeding nipple. "Fucking unbelievable!"
"Leah? Baby?" I whispered as I tried to follow her out of the room.
"Don't! Just stay the fuck away from me, Edward," she said as she headed to the door. "And stay away from my brother too!" she yelled as she slammed the door behind her.
A couple hours later I was on the computer and updated my blog:
Today, I had a dream I was in World War II. I pulled out a grenade pin with my teeth. I woke up to a screaming girlfriend with a bloody nipple and a ring in my mouth.
Fuck. My. Life.
a/n: This was definitely inspired by the episode "Bastogne" from HBO's "Band of Brothers." If you've never seen it, I have to say it's one of the single best war movie/series I've ever seen. A must see. The Siege of Bastogne, which was part of the larger Battle of the Bulge, was a grueling effort on the part of American soldiers, and yet they held the town and stopped the German advance.
Also, I know I used some language that some might find offensive, however, I attempted to make it appropriate to the time period. It is not how I would speak.
I also wanted to extend a thank you to Zigster, Chicklette, YogaGal, and SorceressCirce for hosting the FML contest. It's a brilliant idea.
Thank you for reading, and please read the other entries. Don't forget to vote! Voting opens on 2/22!