"Jesus, Swoff! Are you hit? Are you hit? Are you okay?"

Swofford's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging slightly open when Troy slammed into him, knocking him sideways as another round tore past.

"Go! Go! Go!" Troy shouted, snatching up his kit and making tracks.

Swofford's mental paralysis broke and he hightailed it after Troy, useless rifle held protectively to his chest. Down the stairs, around the crumbled wall, dash across the yard with the dry well, and they were at the perimeter of the bombed out compound. Ten more steps, dive, turn, yank camouflaged trap door closed, crouch shoulder to shoulder and wait, breath held as tightly as their weapons.

The minutes oozed by in the close, dark space like that sweat that trickled from hairline, armpits, down ass cracks until the tickling itch was enough to drive Gandhi mad.

"We're okay," Troy whispered. "I think we're okay."

Swofford didn't answer. He was reliving the last ten minutes in a continuous loop. Troy's soft, "Fire. Fire. Fire," in his ear. The stock smooth against his cheek, the metal of the trigger perfectly curved to his finger. The target so clear in the cross hairs that he felt he could reach out and touch him. The world went still. There was only him, his rifle, the target, and his spotter's disembodied voice.

And then, he saw it on the periphery of his vision. Just a glint, but he knew instinctively that it was the scope of a rifle, maybe not like his, but just as lethal. He let the barrel of his weapon drift intuitively, every fiber of his being gathered in his right eye. He heard Troy's sharp intake of breath, just as he fired.

He knew he'd made the kill, but even as the exhilaration was flooding his system like pharmaceutical grade coke, a shell knocked his weapon from his hands. And now he huddled here, clutching the shattered rifle, as though it were all that anchored him to this reality. He'd finally done what he'd been so thoroughly trained and amped to do, and he'd blown it.

"Swoff?" Troy took out his penlight and thumbed it on. "Hey, man, look at me. Shit, your eyes are like two pissholes in the snow. You feeling shocky?"

"I feel … numb."

"By the sounds, our objective scrambled without bothering to look for our dumb asses. I think we should probably hang here for a while anyway. Just to be sure."

"Whatever. You're the spotter; you make the call."

"You're shaking."

"Fuck you."

Troy smiled faintly. "In your dreams, jizzmop. I didn't think you were scared, just jazzed. What the hell happened anyway?"

"I saw another shooter."

"You should've stayed on target."

Don't you think I know that? I saw a flash and everything after that was instinct."

"Marines don't have instincts … or hunches, or feelings. Marines have orders that take the place of things like that. All you have to do is follow orders. Why can't you do that?"

"Are you mad at me?"

Troy let out a big breath through his nose. "No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just … I don't know. It seems like everything we've done up 'til now was leading to that shot and now it's over and the target got away."

"And my rifle's fucked."

"Sorry, Swoff. Hey, it wasn't your fault. Why don't you put the weapon down now?"

"I can't," Swofford turned his eyes to Troy in mute appeal.

"Shit."

Troy put his rifle down and took hold of Swofford's. He tugged hard, harder, but the other man had a death grip on the weapon. Leaning forward suddenly, Troy kissed his friend on the side of the mouth. Swofford recoiled, letting go of the rifle.

"What the fuck?"

Troy smiled. "Old trick. Works great in a brawl."

Troy set the ruined gun on the ground and looked up in time to meet Swofford almost halfway. His friend crashed into him, clutching at his shoulders. Troy ditched his weapon as Swofford's mouth found his and latched on. The kiss was clumsy, painful, and the most exciting thing either had ever felt.

When Swofford drew back, Troy went with him, hanging on, his lips sliding over the other man's stubble. With his body weight, Troy pushed Swofford against the wall and took his mouth, having tasted blood and wanting more. Swofford moved restlessly, whether cooperating or protesting the manhandling it was impossible to tell.

Troy had actually given this quite a bit of thought, lying awake at night, listening to Swofford breathing on the cot next to his. He'd spent more time than he cared to admit fantasizing about Swofford's mouth. Each time he looked into those dreaming blue eyes, Troy felt a sweet little ache behind his pubic bone.

It freaked him out at first, wondering if he was queer, gay in the lexicon of the politically correct, but he was pretty sure he wasn't. For one thing, he wasn't sexually attracted to other men, just his partner Swofford. And until this moment, he hadn't even been sure that what he felt for his friend was desire.

He was sure now. This was lust. Red, blinding lust that took hold of you, possessed you, squeezed you in a velvet fist until you popped. He didn't know why he felt like this, or what, exactly, he was going to do about it. However, if Swofford didn't tear his head off in the next few seconds, Troy was sure as hell going to find out.

Swofford put his hands on Troy's chest and shoved, only to find they were evenly matched in strength. Troy's tongue slipped into Swofford's mouth and Swofford caught it in his teeth. Biting down hard enough to let Troy know he meant business, Swofford released him. The warning didn't back Troy down by an inch.

Swofford felt all the tension of the idle months in the pitiless desert coiled in his guts like a rattler poised to strike. The endless waiting for battle. Not knowing what was happening back home. Even jacking off was a chore that did nothing to ease the strain. Just another notch, an ounce more pressure, one false move and he'd snap like a kite string, just go sailing off over the wild blue yonder.

"Just let me …" Troy murmured, his breath warm against Swofford's ear, as he laid his hand on Swofford's crotch.

And flashpoint was reached.

Grappling, yanking, tearing at their uniforms and one another, they shed enough clothing for intimacy. There were brief instants when each was aware that it was a male body they caressed, but these moments of clarity did nothing to deter the headlong rush into what the military termed 'fraternization'. Call it what you will, they were most certainly in 'don't ask, don't tell' territory, and showed no signs of turning back, or even slowing down.

It had been so long since either had felt the loving touch of a gentle hand. And while their actions could hardly be characterized as tender, it was an awkward blend of affection and passion that might be described as love. Whatever it was, it was powerful. Powerful enough to sweep away inhibition, indoctrination and fear of exposure.

Swofford sucked in a big breath when Troy's lips touched the head of his cock and then the hard length of flesh was engulfed in wet heat. It was far from Swofford's first blow job, but it was unique in many respects. He was getting head from a man, and not just any man, but a man as potentially lethal as he was. In the middle of the desert. In a war zone.

"Fuck!" Swofford gasped. "I've never been this hard in my life."

Troy left off, looking up at Swofford. "I know what you mean," he said, shaking his hard on at the other man.

Swofford grinned. "You don't think I'm gonna suck your dick, do you? I might give you a reach around, but that's about it."

"Fine."

Swofford's mouth fell open, but he recovered quickly. For no reason he could name, the thought of fucking Troy had him hotter than Baghdad in the middle of a bombing raid in high summer. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to do something he'd viewed with snickering contempt since about the fourth grade.

Because it wasn't really about sex. Well, it was about sex, sure; they both wanted to cum in the worst way, but it was more than that. Swofford was drawn by the allure of possessing Troy, being in control, the way he was with his girlfriend, only Troy wasn't a girl. Troy was most definitely a badass Marine, one half of a sniper team, boo-rah!

Swofford imagined that fucking Troy would be like sticking his dick in a light socket where a pit bull's asshole should be. The prospect of throwing a leg over a Tasmanian devil in twister mode teased a bead of cloudy fluid from the tip of Swofford's cock. When Troy got to his hands and knees, presenting his rear, heat lightning crackled through Swofford's crotch.

"Fuck, let's do this," Swofford said breathlessly as he grasped his aching erection.

Though he'd never done this with a man before, it seemed straightforward enough to the Marine. Peg A goes in hole B, thrust, and repeat as necessary. Displaying more confidence than he felt, Swofford snugged the head of his shaft against the clenched port.

"Hell, yeah. Put it in me, Swoff. Give it to me hard."

"Whoa! I'm as hot as you are, but don't we need some lube or something?"

"Welcome to The Suck," Troy said. "We'll be lucky if the sand doesn't rub us raw. Just fucking get stuck in and go for it."

"I got no spit."

"I don't care. Start fucking, or forget it."

That was too much for Swofford's blood. He rubbed his leaking shaft over Troy's hole a couple of times and worked the tip in. Troy tensed, breath hissing in over his teeth as he was breached, but standing fast.

"Fucking tight," Swofford gasped.

"Forget the sweet talk," Troy answered in a strained voice. "No flowers or candy either."

Swofford pushed in another couple of inches and Troy grunted as he swayed forward. Swofford grabbed hold of his spotter's hips and pulled him back. Troy resisted, and Swofford applied more pressure, reveling in pitting his strength against the other man's.

"What're you waiting for?" Troy cried out. "Fuck me!"

The order had been given and Swofford obeyed with alacrity for the first time since he'd gotten off the bus at boot camp. With a twist of his hips, he drew back only to slam in at a different angle, sinking his full length in the tight heat. Troy groaned and stood his ground, giving Swofford something solid to grind against. The familiar sensation of being encased in snug wet velvet triggered the urge to thrust

"Jesus, I can't. I can't," the shooter panted, humping frantically.

"Don't you cum yet, Swoff. Don't you fucking dare. I'll shoot you myself if you cum now, asshole. You hear me?"

"Can't help it. So tight."

Troy bore down on the hard flesh that stretched him and Swofford's knees nearly betrayed him. Leaning heavily on his spotter's back, the Marine continued his haphazard stroke, as he desperately tried to keep the floodgates closed for another few thrusts. Unable to rein in the unruly feelings that threatened to overwhelm him, Swofford pulled back.

"What the fuck?" Troy complained.

Reacting to the disapproval in his partner's tone, Swofford eased back in a bit, eliciting a gasp of surprise. Troy began to move rhythmically, in time with the new abbreviated stroke. Each short jab nudged his prostate, making him moan involuntarily. Encouraged, Swofford rocked into the other man, concentrating on duplicating each thrust so he could hear Troy make that incredibly arousing sound.

"Yeah, baby. That's the way you do it," Troy muttered, as his flagging erection hardened again. "How 'bout that reach around?"

Swofford opened his eyes, breaking the near trance of sensual pleasure. Laying his cheek between Troy's shoulder blades, he snaked an arm around the trim waist. Troy groaned deep in his chest when Swofford took his cock in a firm grip. Shuttling his hand up and down the hard shaft, Swofford nipped at the damp skin of Troy's back.

"Is this good?"

"Don't stop!"

Wrapping both arms tightly around Troy, Swofford thrust from his boots and rapidly stroked the other man's arousal. Troy came with a hoarse shout, spilling hot fluid over Swofford's scabbed knuckles. Swofford grunted and thrust reflexively, as the base of his shaft was squeezed in a death grip.

"Shit! Troy! I'm cumming!"

Swofford's release crashed into him like the 2nd Armored Division. He lurched forward, plunging his pulsing shaft as far as he could into Troy. His seed geysered forth, hot and thick as lava, scalding them both. Losing motor control in the rush of his climax, Swofford let his full weight rest on Troy.

Troy stiffened his arms, bracing them both, as Swofford nuzzled him blindly, still holding his spent cock in a loose grip. Afterglow bled into them, replacing the frenetic blast of adrenalin with the liquid warmth of endorphins. At long last, the horrible tension was broken and they could truly lighten up.

"Holy shit," Swofford panted. "I came so hard I nearly blacked out."

"Oh, you feel better now, do you?"

"Mmmhmmmmm."

"Don't you fucking fall asleep. Swoff? Hey, asshole, you best get your dinky outta my stinky before you drop off."

"Sorry, man."

Swofford disengaged carefully and sat back against the wall, pants pooled around his boots. Breathing in great lungfuls of the parched, dust laden air, he rested his heavy-lidded gaze on Troy. The spotter yanked up his trousers before turning to face the other man.

"You okay, Swoff?"

The shooter nodded. "I can't believe we did that, but goddamn it was good."

"Just sex, Marine."

"No, that wasn't sex. I've had sex, and this was something else. Something… I don't know. Wilder, maybe."

Troy nodded, his expression neutral in the gloom. "Yeah, wilder."

"I gotta ask, man. Didn't that hurt?"

"Fuck yeah, it hurts, but that's just one part of it. Hell, Swoff, does a day go by in the Suck that you don't get hurt?"

Swofford shook his head.

"At least what we did made us feel good eventually."

"Eventually? Seemed like about three seconds between ignition and detonation."

"It was a little longer, trust me on this one."

"You know I trust you, man."

"Ditto. Now if you're done blowing sunshine up my skirt, we should probably get back to base. They gotta be wondering what the hell happened to us."

"Should we tell 'em?"

"Fuck you," Troy grinned at the joke. "We took a shot and missed."

"The hell we did," Swofford muttered as followed his spotter out of the den.

They returned to their post and Troy reported the mission as a failure stating that they'd taken the opportunity but missed the objective. Command sent a reconnaissance team back out a few days later when the area cooled off and found things much as the spotter had described them.

However, they also found the body of an enemy sniper with a shattered scope and a round through his eye