There were certain things you never did in the Special Forces. Then, there were other things that you did but just never talked about.Being gay fell into the first category. Fucking another man, however, fell into the second.
In the mind of the average heterosexual male, so Vin had come to understand, there was a world of difference between pitching and catching. Pitching made you horny and macho and male. Catching made you either weak or gay or both.
In the homosexual world, this, of course, didn't apply. Hell, it didn't really apply in the heterosexual world. And, in the world of extreme conditions, like jail and combat, well, fine lines became elastic and men did what men do. They did whatever they could do, whatever they needed to do, as long as they could somehow justify the acts in their own minds.
Vin had been in the army for a while before he'd discovered any of this.
He was now fourteen weeks into Special Forces training. They were into the sniper portion by that time. Intensive weeks of long-range target practice interspersed with the fieldwork: tracking, survival, and concealment.
Vin excelled at sniping. He could hit anything with his Remington 700 Bolt Action rifle. Anything. At any distance. Moving or not. It earned him a lot of respect from his fellow soldiers as well as from his instructors — and respect was one thing Vin had never had a lot of experience with in his life. He was quickly learning to like the feeling.
The admiration Vin had earned on the firing range made the other men in his troop want to be paired up with him during the field training. They alternated to some degree, who partnered with whom, because, in combat, pairings were rarely fixed — people got injured, transferred, whatever — so you had to be able to work with a variety of different guys. Vin could do this, too.
It happened during their first survival course. In pairs, they were dropped for three days into the jungles of Panama. All you had to do was get from the drop zone to the pick-up zone without getting hurt or bitten and without starving or dehydrating. And all you had were your wits, your knife, and your buddy.
It was humid as all hell, and the tiny island just off the coast that they were dropped on — at least the area they were dropped in — didn't seem to have a single aboveground source of water supplying it. They were forced to drink the drops of condensation and rainwater that collected in the curls of newly unfurling leaves. And they ate bugs and bark and climbed trees for mangos.
Not in anyone's mind who'd ever lived was this a setting to inspire romance. However, men are men and romance is never a requirement.
They'd been out for two days. Night was falling and Vin was tired, sweaty, hungry, and thirsty. So was his buddy Neil. They chose the shelter of a tree fern for the night — in the morning, they'd find water collected in the center and they'd eat the sprouting fronds for breakfast.
They hadn't spoken much since their drop, but as night fell on their second day, they inched closer to each other, mostly for safety and companionship since the temperature wouldn't drop enough for them to need to share their body heat.
"You ever...." Neil began, but then his voice faded.
"What?" Vin whispered out of habit — it was a good habit.
"Been on a drop before ... with a buddy?"
Vin shook his head. "Naw. We did single-man survival and troop survival."
Neil nodded, and Vin could barely see him in the declining light. "Not much to do once the light fades," Neil continued.
"Yeah."
"At least by yourself, you can whack off," he laughed softly.
"Hard to do in a troop situation," Vin agreed, though he was beginning to get the idea of where this conversation was leading.
"You ever ... been with a girl, Tanner?"
Vin didn't like to admit it, but the truth was he hadn't. He hadn't much had the opportunity during his life so far, or the inclination.
"You?"
"Yeah. I got a girl back home. I sure miss her blow jobs!" Vin knew Neil was smiling, he could hear it even in the man's quiet voice. "Guess if you close your eyes, though, one girl's mouth probably feels like any other."
"Reckon," Vin replied.
"Guess, for that matter, if you close your eyes, a blow job's a blow job, no matter who's doin' you."
"Suppose," Vin replied again, this time knowing he was being propositioned. He heard Neil moving, knew the man was undoing his pants, in anticipation of Vin's acceptance. Vin just didn't know if he wanted to go there. Respect was a tentative thing, and he sure didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that with any of his Special Forces comrades. It had been too hard earned. Too long in coming.
"Ya done this before?" Vin finally asked.
"Yeah. Makes the night go by faster. Strange enough: actually makes sniping with a guy easier — makes it easier to communicate without having to talk and sometimes in the field you can't risk talking, and all you have is body language."
Neil had gotten a good ways through Special Forces training once before. His father had gotten sick, though, before he'd completed and he'd been given the option of emergency leave, on the condition that he'd have to start again at the beginning of the Special Forces training, when the next unit was formed. He'd taken the leave.
Neil knew what he was talking about most of the time. Vin trusted him, as far as you could trust a man you'd only known fourteen weeks — but these had been fourteen unique and intense weeks. Still, Vin wondered if maybe this guy was just feeding him a line. "Ya ever do it ta someone," Vin finally asked.
Neil was quiet for a while before he responded. "You asking?"
"No."
Neil shook his head. "Only had it done to me. And only twice before ... you know, here in the field."
Vin didn't know what made him decide, but a few minutes later, he leaned over and took his buddy into his mouth. The guy was brackish from two days of sweat, but Vin's mouth cleaned that off quickly and, actually, his body welcomed the salt after all the sweating he himself had been doing.
Neil leaned back, and Vin knew he had his eyes closed, knew he was probably thinking about his girl, so Vin made a point not to make any noise, not to do anything to break the spell for Neil and remind him it was a guy blowing him off.
Vin bobbed up and down his hard shaft, flicking his tongue across the head, plying it down the sides. Neil began to squirm beneath his ministrations when Vin moved his hand down to cup Neil's firm balls. He kneaded the firm flesh until the man began to groan.
Vin immediately moved his other hand up to cover the man's nose and mouth. One thing Vin had learned, and he believed it was one thing which made him as good as he had become, was applying all of his previous training to whatever current training he was in. It didn't matter that he and Neil were the only ones out in this jungle — that there was no enemy liable to find them, no enemy that they were tracking. Vin still acted as if both were possible, so it was unacceptable to him that Neil should make any noise that might be heard through the still air.
Neil twisted his head beneath Vin's firm hand, but Vin didn't let him go. He knew what oxygen deprivation did to a man normally; he also knew what it did during sex. Soon, Neil was struggling, grabbing at Vin's wrist, twisting his hands in Vin's shirt, in the ground, and bucking his spasming hips. Still, Vin did not release his mouth, did not allow him any oxygen, knowing the man's moans would too loudly break through the thick silence of the night.
Moments later, Neil's whole body clenched. His hips shot forcefully upward, shoving his cock deep into Vin's mouth, pumping his hot fluid directly down his throat. Vin felt it coming and prepared himself. He swallowed almost every drop, licking the remaining dribbles off Neil's softening cock before sweeping the tip of his tongue over his own lips to wipe away any residue.
Under combat conditions, a puddle of jizz on the ground would give them away. Not that it was likely that they would be doing such a thing under those conditions, but you never knew. It was just good practice.
Vin finally released Neil's mouth, when he was certain the man didn't have enough energy left to make any sounds louder than heavy breathing. Neil didn't move for the longest time, except to gulp in large lung-fulls of air.
When his breathing eased, he managed to whisper, "You trying to kill me?"
"Nope. Just tryin' ta keep ya quiet."
"Damn. That was fucking incredible," Neil finally concluded, and Vin noted that the man failed to offer to return the favor.
They were now in the final phase of the sniper portion of their training. Pairs pitted against pairs. The first team to land one paint-hit would win the competition.It had come down to the last two teams. Vin and Neil were the best the squad had to offer and, by simple luck of the draw, they'd been paired up. Their "enemies" were Ryan and LaRue, and Vin knew they'd be hard to peg. But they had all the time in the world. Sniping was a game of patience as well as skill, and the instructors knew this. If it took six months for one team to successfully hit the other, then that's how long they'd be given.
They had been out for three days. Each team had a radio, but it remained silent; it was only to be used for reporting a hit, thus calling in the jeeps to come pick them up and ending the competition.
Vin was the designated sniper tonight and Neil was his spotter, not that either of them had seen anything from the other team. They knew their general location, but that was an area of a few hundred square meters. Both teams had gotten this far in the competition due in great part to their patience — a missed shot gave away your location and opened you up to being hit. Neither team was that foolish.
It was well past midnight. The moon, waning just past a quarter, had risen behind Vin and Neil — they'd only have the advantage of the faint, pale light for a short while. It probably wouldn't be enough to give them any real advantage.
Vin's mind began to wander, even as he continued to scan the distant hillside. He thought back over the last few weeks — he'd blown about half the men in his squad. But no one seemed to lose any respect for Vin and for that he was thankful. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he never said anything to anyone, not before to proposition them nor after to either discuss or tell tales.
He felt Neil inch closer to him, then whisper, "We're gonna nail these guys, huh?"
"Maybe," was Vin's only reply. He was certainly going to try, but it was pretty much down to luck — it all depended on who would make the first mistake big enough for the other team to notice.
After a long silence, Neil finally asked, "You remember that night during survival training?"
"Yup," came Vin's quiet, minimal reply. He knew what Neil was asking; at least, he thought he did. This wasn't the place for it.
"I was thinkin'—" his buddy continued.
"No."
"Not that. See, me and my girl, we used to do it in her parent's house after hours —"
Vin didn't like all this chatter. He didn't know why Neil was talking about this instead of scoping the far hill where they knew their prey was somewhere hiding.
"—and her bedroom shared a wall with her parents'. I know this is different, but I can be quiet."
Vin didn't have to ask what the man was getting at — he already knew the answer. Neil didn't want a blowjob, and he certainly didn't want to give Vin one. The man wanted to get his rocks off the old fashioned way, or as old fashioned as you could get with another guy.
"I just know we can do this without them sons-a-bitches even getting a bead on us," Neil explained and Vin heard the distinct gloating in the man's voice — a win for Vin would be enough, but Neil wanted to see how much he could get away with and still beat these guys.
Vin knew he could do it — he could take Neil inside him, fuck the man dry, all without making a sound or even rustling his camouflage netting — he just wasn't so sure about Neil. The man tended to get just a little too caught up in the moment for his own good.
Still, Vin didn't say no and a few moments later, he felt Neil inch a little closer.
"Yer the spotter," Vin reminded his partner in a very low whisper. "So ya do exactly what I say, when I say it." God, they were really going to do this! They'd be court-martialed if they were caught.
"'Kay."
Vin checked his scope, scanning the far hill again, then began to loosen the belt around his waist. He slowly, carefully scooted the fabric down over his hips as he felt Neil inching his way beneath the camo net. Vin slathered two of his fingers with saliva, then reached back and began priming his own hole.
When he was ready, he checked his scope again, and then eased slowly onto his side. Neil was waiting for him. Vin immediately felt the man's cock probing against his ass. Vin raised his knee, just slightly, just enough to reach his own hand back between his legs to guide Neil into place.
"Slow. Steady," Vin instructed. "And silent." He felt Neil nod his head as the man pushed himself deep into Vin, who had to bite his own lip against the both painful and pleasant sensations of the intrusion.
Vin checked his scope again and altered the lay of his rifle for his new position, and then he allowed Neil to begin gently thrusting inside of him. He felt his partner's hands on his hips, but they came no closer to his own organ, which was now throbbing with demand. Vin reached down with his free hand and wrapped it around his own cock, moving it up and down in rhythm to Neil's rocking thrusts. Neil was hitting the one spot inside of him that made him shudder — a spot the man was undoubtedly completely unaware existed. He wasn't sure if Neil had ever done this to another guy before, but he was positive no one had ever done this to Neil.
It wasn't long before Vin felt his dick quiver as a tingling spread across his loins. He'd gotten the other guys off, but no one had yet offered to return the favor. It had been a long time for him and he ached for it.
He shut his eyes tight when the jizz finally shot from him, the spurts coming in time with Neil's slow and steady thrusts. Except for his hand, milking out the last of his seed, Vin allowed himself no other movement.
Vin breathed again, and checked his scope immediately upon opening his eyes.
"Freeze," he whispered sharply and Neil instantly stopped his thrusting.
Vin scanned the far hill. He'd seen something. Wait for it, he told himself, trying to calm the beating of his racing heart. Just wait.
There it was again: a tiny glinting in the faint moonlight, first at the edge of their enemy's zone, and then again a few moments later nearer in. Someone was moving. Vin refocused his scope until he was certain.
He took a deep breath, and then let out half, holding the remainder, before squeezing off a round. The recoil impaled him deeply on Neil's shaft. Vin heard the man stifle a groan.
He re-primed his rifle, and then checked his scope again. He caught more movement, just a few feet to the left of where he'd shot. It meant one of two things: the second sniper was reacting to the paint hit on his buddy or it was simply some nocturnal animal rustling through the underbrush.
It didn't matter. He'd pegged his first shot — they'd already won. A second hit would be frosting on the cake.
Vin played his instinct. His rifle was zeroed at 1000 meters and this distance was right around that, so he aimed just slightly above ground level, where a man's body would be if he were laying prone on the ground, and squeezed off another round.
Again, the recoil sent him backward, against Neil, thrusting the man's cock hard into him. The man clutched Vin as he spasmed into release. Unable to control his reaction, Neil pounded several times into Vin until he was spent. A moment later, sound cracked over their radio. "Blue Team — two down."
Vin had hit both snipers.
Neil was too out of breath to pick up the radio. Vin grabbed it. He reported the firing of his shots: "Red Team — two out." Two out and two down meant he'd nailed both his targets, with no wasted ammo. If Blue Team had seen his muzzle flare, he hadn't given them enough time to react to it.
Vin began to pull up and refasten his pants, making certain the camouflaged blanket still covered him, still kept his actions out of the sights of the other sniper team, just in case.
"I told you we'd nail 'em," Neil breathed as he rolled, exhausted, onto to his back.
Actually, Neil was the only one who hadn't gotten nailed, Vin thought to himself. He wasn't sure he liked the fact that Neil didn't seem to realize that.
~ fade ~
April 2001Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.
Characters from "The Magnificent Seven," were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.
Thanks to my beta reader for all of her help and encouragement!