Magnificent Manlove

Ditched “This can’t be f*****g right!” said Lance Corporal Michael Scott, checking his map for the umpteenth time. “I can assure you, Scott, that it f*****g is,” responded his colleague, Private Damien Stone. He nudged the other man, pointed to a place on his own map, then raised his arm and indicated a rise in the ground in the near distance. “See, that’s that long barrow, so we are in the right place.” Looking at the barrow—one of the many on Salisbury Plain—then down at the map, and finally at his compass, Scott had to agree. “So where the f**k are they, then?” Stone had no answer for that one. He looked up into the lightening sky, which in the distance was tinged with pink, but saw no sign of their pick-up helicopter. Straining to hear even the faintest sound of rotor blades, Stone remained silent. Hearing nothing, he shrugged. “Dunno. Perhaps we got the time wrong?” “I hope not, otherwise they’ve gone without us!” “Nah. We’re early, if anything. The sun’s only just coming up.” Sighing, Scott stuffed his map and compass into a pocket and said, “Well, I guess we’d better find somewhere to shelter. I don’t like the look of that.” The that he was talking about was an ominous-looking black cloud being buffeted in their direction by the wind, which was picking up rapidly. “With you on that one.” On an unspoken command, they immediately split up and started to look around for somewhere they could keep out of the wind and imminent rain. It wasn’t long before Scott shouted out, and Stone immediately turned and headed in the direction of his colleague’s voice. When Stone arrived, Scott had already removed his backpack and dropped it into the ditch he’d found and was striding down the slope to join it. Luckily, there’d been no rain over the past few days so the ground was dry. If the coming rainstorm ended up being heavy, it was entirely possible they’d get wet arses, and much more besides, but for now at least they’d be reasonably comfortable. Following his colleague’s example, Stone shrugged off his pack. Scott was standing with his arms out, ready to catch it. Stone tossed it, then gave a curt nod of thanks before heading into the ditch. Once there, he spotted scrub covering a couple of sizeable rocks, meaning they would at least be able to sit down. It would have to rain pretty damn hard for the water level in the ditch to get as high as the top of the rocks, so they’d be all right until the chopper arrived. He hoped. Stone pulled out his switchblade and began hacking at the scrub to clear it away. The roots and branches were thick in places. He soon became impatient, grabbed a handful and yanked—an action he quickly regretted. “f**k me!” he yelled, dropping the blade and cradling his injured hand with the other one. A deep, nasty scratch, flanked by a couple of more superficial ones, striped his palm. Blood welled up. “All right, Stone?” Scott had been so busy scanning the sky for a sign of their transport that he hadn’t seen what had happened. “Do I f*****g look all right?” Stone snapped, moving towards his backpack to get a bandage and something to clean the wound. “Chill out, mate. It’s not exactly a landmine, is it?” Scott’s attempt at humour—tasteless as it was—only served to inflame Stone’s temper further. He shot Scott a glare that would have turned a lesser man to stone, yet said nothing, then opened his bag to unearth the medical supplies, trying not to smear blood everywhere. It wasn’t easy. Sighing, Scott nudged Stone out of the way. “Come on, mate. Let me get it for you.” Muttering, Stone allowed his colleague to retrieve the kit. His hand was still bleeding, though not as freely. A glance up at the sky told him they were still completely alone on the plain. Where the hell was the f*****g helicopter? Before he got chance to wonder too much about it, Scott stepped in front of him, medical kit in hand. Taking the wrist of Stone’s injured hand, Scott looked at the cut. He then tore open and used a medicated wipe to clean it, biting back a smirk when Stone hissed as the chemicals went into the wound and stung him. Finishing the job with a neatly-fastened bandage and a clap on the shoulder, Scott said, “Okay, mate. You’re all set.” “Thanks,” Stone replied, flexing his hand to make sure the bandage wasn’t too tight or too loose. “Shoulda’ been more bloody careful, shouldn’t I?” Grinning good-naturedly, Scott spread his arms in a placating manner. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.” “Just as well. I’m not in the mood.” “I noticed.” The words brought a wry grin to Stone’s face. “Oh, f**k off. You know what I’m like.” “Too right I do. You’re a miserable bastard. That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in ages.” “Charming.” “Just telling it like it is.” His grin fading, Stone asked, “Am I really that bad? Tell me honestly.” Scott raised his eyebrows. “You want brutal honesty?” Stone nodded. “In that case, yes. Don’t get me wrong, you’re damn good at your job, but you come across as a grumpy fucker who resents having to take orders. Especially from me.” Stone tilted his head to one side, considering what his colleague—and superior—had just said. Then he nodded slowly as he came to the realisation Scott was right. “You know, that’s a pretty fair assessment. I don’t like taking orders—and for some reason, you always rub me up the wrong way. Most of the time, I want to tell you to go f**k yourself.” “Don’t you think you might be in the wrong job then, mate? The line of work we’re in, we all have to take orders.” “No, I’m not in the wrong job. I f*****g love what I do, it’s just I’d rather go with my own instincts and intelligence than have to do what straitlaced teacher’s pets like you tell me.” “Hey,” Scott said, clenching his fists, “I may be a straitlaced teacher’s pet, but I’m still your f*****g superior. And I always will be, if you don’t change your attitude. You might think you’re some kind of rebel, but this isn’t playing army in the garden with your friends any more. This is real, and not taking orders can be the difference between life and death. And not just your life, either. Other people’s. So just you remember that.” Stone held his hands up in supplication, wincing as the sudden movement made his wound ache. “Sorry, Scott. I know you’re right. And I’m doing my best to suck it up and be a good soldier, all right? So help me out, yeah, and give me a nudge if I’m stepping out of line.” Scott relaxed his position, then turned his back on Stone and walked along the ditch a little way. Stone grimaced. He’d known this exercise was going to be a nightmare. Not just because it was a drop off in the middle of nowhere with the task being to find a rendezvous point and be picked up—not exactly challenging, in Stone’s opinion—but because they’d teamed him up with Scott. Of all the people the powers that be could have chosen, they had to choose him. He was a damn good soldier, which was how he’d achieved the rank of Lance Corporal so quickly, but Stone’s problem with him had nothing to do with his rank or achievements. It had to do with the fact he was massively attracted to him, and had been ever since he’d met him. Stone had kept his bisexuality quiet when he joined the forces—there were still enough prejudiced people out there that could make his life a misery—but the more time he spent in Scott’s company, the more difficult it became. He was just grateful they’d been dropped off only a few hours ago, making it necessary to keep moving until they found the pick-up point. If they’d been required to do an overnighter, he really didn’t know how he’d have coped with having to try to sleep with Scott mere inches away. Things were becoming pretty difficult right now, in fact. The past few hours they’d been on the move continually, so Stone’s mind had mostly been on the exercise—with the occasional thoughts about how good Scott looked in uniform. But now, he had nothing to distract him, except for keeping an eye and ear out for the helicopter. As a result, his libido was ramping up. He hadn’t had s*x—with a woman or a man—for God knows how long, and watching Scott pace up and down the ditch, deep in thought, was making him painfully aware of the fact. Not to mention painfully hard. He hadn’t realised just how intently he’d been staring at Scott until the other man turned around and caught him doing it. “What the f**k, man?” Scott said, walking towards him. “Were you staring at me?” The look on Scott’s face told Stone it was pointless denying it. Instead, he shrugged, hoping he’d let it go. No such luck. “I asked you a question. Or am I to take your silence as a yes?” Stone was in the s**t, no matter what he said. He pulled himself up to his full height—which was still a few inches shorter than Scott—and looked him square in the eyes. “So what if I was?” Scott frowned. “Are you trying to tell me you bat for the other team, mate?” “No,” Stone replied, matter of factly, “I bat for both teams.” The other man’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. Several seconds passed and the two men stared at each other. Stone was on edge, not sure what Scott’s reaction was going to be to his confession, but just wishing he’d get it over with. He was either going to get laughed at or punched. Either way it backed up his reasons for keeping his sexuality a secret. He clenched his fists, then arched an eyebrow, inviting a response. Scott shook his head as though ridding himself of a thought, then his expression of surprise disappeared. Only to be replaced by one Stone would never have expected, not in a million years. A predatory grin twisted Scott’s lips, and he moved closer to the shorter man. “Well,” Scott said, his grin widening, “that’s very interesting.” “It is?” Stone frowned, still half-expecting a punch in the face. Scott had never shown any inclination towards homophobia before, but then Stone had never told him he liked men before. “Yes,” Scott moved closer still, until they were almost toe to toe, “because I happen to bat for both sides, too.” Stone’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe it—Scott liked men, too? The blond, blue eyed, muscular, towering hottie was bi? And even more strangely, it appeared Scott was interested in him, too. Either that or he’d suddenly forgotten about the unspoken personal space rules between people who weren’t intimate. “Y-you do?” Instead of replying, Scott slipped his hand behind Stone’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. Stone’s semi immediately snapped to attention and, after spending a couple of seconds wondering if he’d somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming, he returned the other man’s kiss. A thought popped into his head that they might be caught—and the consequences would be so severe they didn’t even bear thinking about—but then he shoved it away, reasoning with himself that they were the only people for miles, and if the helicopter approached, they’d hear it before they could see it. Therefore the people in the chopper wouldn’t be able to see them, either. And by the time they could, the two men would be standing metres apart, acting normally. Probably. Having put his mind at rest, Stone relaxed and allowed himself to fully enjoy the kiss. And what a kiss it was. A combination of having fancied Scott for ages; thinking it would never happen because the other man was straight; and the fact they were effectively making out in work time made an already super-hot kiss positively molten. His c**k pressed insistently against the inside of his boxers and combats, a firm reminder that he hadn’t used it in a while. And, as Scott pulled away then dropped to his knees, Stone concluded there was a very real possibility his dry spell was over.