Love & War
Rafe struggled in the soldier’s grip. “Run!” He shouted to the small group behind him. Although bigger and stronger than his captive, it appeared the man was prepared to fight if necessary. Protect his compatriots. Give them time to scurry their prize to safety.
Advent Nays watched the retreating pack of rebels, green eyes lit with mirth behind his rimless specs. “Oh yes loves, run.” He purred. Turning his attention back to his captive, “Where the devil do you think you are? Down the rabbit hole with Alice?” The older man laughed. “They won’t get within five feet of a door. We own this place. If it was that baby genius we really wanted, we would have had him hours ago.”
Those blue, blue eyes said it all. Rafe couldn’t decide if that was an empty threat. Like a frightened animal he had to get away, warn the rest of the filthy rebels that it might be a set up. The young man stomped hard on the toes of Advent’s high buckled boots only to discover they were steel toed. “Shit!”
Advent was a good eight inches taller than Rafe. And that would have been without the boots. Well muscled, long loose brown hair and vibrant green eyes the soldier was far more imposing. He was dramatic and handsome in his high collared, black Territorial uniform and long leather trench coat. Confidence radiated from the Field Officer.
“You trying to go somewhere?” Advent slammed Rafe’s back against the table knocking the man’s glasses askew. He hissed from the pain. “I don’t think so. You and I, we have some personal issues to deal with.” For years now Rafe and his crew had been a thorn in the Territories’ side. Which meant he’d been a pain in Advent Nay’s side. Amazing that he’d been caught so easy. Always before, the rebels had managed to slip away at just the last minute.
Months of studying grainy field cams and old school vids had seared Rafe Ayer’s features into the Field Officer’s brain. He dreamt of the pensive smile and brooding eyes of the man in his grasp. At first he told himself it was just work carrying itself into sleep. Finally he admitted that the cat and mouse game they played made him want a man he’d only seen in fleeting moments. It was “hard to get” ratcheted times twenty. Advent liked hard to get. And the rebel was really good looking; too bad he worked for the wrong side.
“Sod off!” Rafe spat. His silvered specs slid off his face, the mop of blonde hair falling into his eyes. He wore a bad imitation of club clothes: blue flash-pants that rose barely high enough to be considered hip huggers, a torn white shirt and chunky sneakers. It made him look young and small against Advent’s leather draped frame.
Pushing Rafe back into the booth, Advent hissed. “That’s an interesting idea.” The rebel was such a little committed freak…a lot like he’d been at that age. Of course Ayer came from one of the good families, the kind which bread intellectuals and dissidents. Nothing like Advent’s own working class background. Maybe the rebel wasn’t as aggressive, but cute; trying to pretend he was older and wiser than he really was. And his oh-so-proper accent, it reminded him of home.
Advent’s fingers hooked on the low slung waist of Rafe’s pants. “I bet if I pulled, just a little, these would come sliding right off.” He grabbed the rebel’s ankle and Rafe slid, squirming, on to his back. “Of course love, we can’t do anything about getting those britches down with these lug soled things on.” He dropped Rafe’s shoes and they rolled under the table. Then he grabbed the waist the man’s trousers. As expected there wasn’t much holding them up and in a matter of seconds they joined the shoes on the floor. The younger man kicked at him and Advent grabbed his legs, spreading them as much as he could in the cramped space. He knelt on the seat in between Rafe’s naked thighs. “What no knickers? You naughty boy what were you planning on doing tonight?”
Rafe swung a badly aimed punch at his head. Advent caught the blow and slammed Rafe’s hand against the wall of the booth. The rebel spit in his face. He’d started off just to terrorize the young man. He hadn’t had any intention of actually going through with it. Strip him, dump his things in the bin, and leave him naked in the middle of the club. It would have been sufficient revenge for now. But as Rafe struggled against him Advent was becoming excited. Bloody hell he was turning into that oversexed Second Officer of his.
Kicking and squirming Rafe tried to drive off his attacker. Advent wondered why Rafe hadn’t started off screaming when he’d started to strip him. Of course some form of industrial noise, masquerading as dance, thundered through the sound system. He probably realized no one would hear him over the pounding music. One arm was pinned to the vinyl by the older man. Rafe grabbed a hank of long brown hair with the other and pulled. “Go to hell you government prick.”
“You little sodding shit.” If that was how he wanted to play it, fine. His free hand fumbled with the buttons on his leather pants and he pulled himself free. Then Advent grabbed Rafe’s hip and drug him back. The hard head of his cock pressed against the lithe young body. He couldn’t believe he was about to give into his dreams.
Rafe trembled, muscles tensed in anticipation. His compatriots teased him: all work and no play makes Rafe a dull boy. They were so very right. The other members of his cell played with each other, a lot. He’d joined the rebels because he wanted to be a part of something. Living it for so long he’s started to believe. Year after year, going higher and higher within their ranks, the only life Rafe had was within the cause. And now, there was always so much work to be done; he could never let himself go. He could never bring himself to give in. The few times he had, he’d been distracted thinking about the hundreds of things that needed to be done.
Every time he’d encountered Field Officer Nays he’d managed an escape. Every time he’d escaped, Rafe had dreamed that he didn’t. He probably could have managed tonight. But he hadn’t wanted too. Because this way, this way took all the choices from Rafe.
That tall, sleek frame carried with a soldier’s bearing stalked his dreams. He’d read and reread the dossier on his opponent a thousand times. Each time looking for another bit of detail something that he could connect to. They’d grown up within the same sector. Rafe imagined he had visited the same museums and zoos and theaters as Field Officer Nays did when he was a boy.
Still, that power, that authority… Rafe desired it. It was something he’d never admit to anyone else, he could hardly admit it to himself… he liked not having a choice. He wanted to be told what to do, to not be the responsible one. Knowing where it was going to end, where he wanted it to end as he fought with Advent, he struggled because that was what he was supposed to do. It was what made it exciting.
His hips rose to meet the pressure. Rafe threw back his head and cried out at the grinding bite of Advent’s entrance. It was as wonderful as he thought it would be.
Frost ran down Advent’s back. “Bloody hell you’re tight.” He hadn’t thought the young rebel’s body would feel so good. He bent down to kiss Rafe. He wanted to feel his lips, pretend he wasn’t forcing him. The man’s shaft pressed into his stomach. God Rafe was hard. He wouldn’t have been hard in his place. He would have been scared shitless.
As he pressed his mouth against the other man’s lips he could feel more than hear Rafe’s words. “Hold me down.”
“What?” Both hands drove down on the rebel’s biceps as he reared back.
“Yes,” the Rafe’s legs wound about Advent’s hips, “like that.” Rafe’s deep blue eyes drifted along Advent’s body, full of hunger not terror. The throbbing base gave him a beat to follow as he thrust back against the other man. As Advent moved within the other man’s body, he lost more and more control, drowning in the heat licking up his thighs. Rafe’s shaft was coursing in a trail of its own moisture on the hard planes of the Field Officer’s cut abdomen. The weight of the taller man on his arms fed his shivers. Freezing cold and burning hot all at the same time Rafe thought he would burst.
Breath breaking in his lungs, Advent slammed into Rafe. He was trembling as much as the man under him. The rebel’s fingers were digging into his arms as he pulled his body against Advent. God it had never been this intense before. Frost clawed at the back of his legs and ran up his belly.
Rafe was driving their rhythm harder and faster, crying, panting, half words breaking his lips. Jamming himself onto Advent’s shaft, Rafe stroked his own length against the tall green haired man’s belly. Advent was going to explode, explode or die. Heat built in the center of his groin and licked its way up through the nerves in his cock. Convulsions wracked the lithe frame beneath him as Rafe erupted coating Advent’s chest.
Tight to begin with, the spasms of Rafe’s orgasm made his body a vice. Advent’s blood froze as his own orgasm hit like lightning down his spine. The wordless scream burst from his mouth as he pumped his juices into Rafe. He couldn’t catch his breath. Grabbing the back of the booth and the edge of the table Advent pulled himself up. His cock was still sheathed in the rebel’s body. Rafe’s delicate fingers reached up and wound into Advent’s long brown hair. He drug on it, pulling himself up and the other man down. Advent’s green eyes went wide as Rafe drove his tongue into his mouth.
As Advent drew back, the man’s teeth grazed his lip and then coursed down his neck. “More!” Rafe’s demand tickled the base of his throat.