Page 28 of My Forbidden Commander

Gabriel Wolfe is so far in the closet, I’d have to send a search party in to find him. Or deploy maximum patience and erode his defenses one touch at a time. I can’t fucking wait.

The lantern’s on in our hut. Shit. Someone must have left the movie early. Probably Spencer—I’m not sure if the man knows how to relax.

The showers. They’re mostly dark, except for the one working light over the third stall, and the water is still running from whoever used it last. Just a thin trickle nobody bothered to turn off all the way. I duck in and get my belt open before the door even swings shut behind me.

My cock’s already leaking, has been since I had the Colonel’s dick in my hands in that latrine, since his ass pressed back against me, since he made that sound when he came, wrecked, like he was holding on to something for twenty years and finally let it go. I brace a hand against the plywood wall and close my eyes, replaying our encounter as I wrap my hand around my dick. The hand that just made Colonel Gabriel Wolfe come.

It doesn’t take long. It never does when I’m thinking about Gabriel, but tonight I was halfway to coming before I even started. I stroke myself as I think about the way he smelled, the heat of his body against me, the way his hips rolled forward, fucking my fist.

I come with a groan I don’t bother to swallow, my hips jerking, my cock kicking in my palm as my forehead drops to my forearm on the wall.

“Specialist.”

I flinch so hard I nearly go down, cursing as I stuff myself back into my pants, still hard, still spilling, and I don’t give a single fuck, I just need Okafor’s eyes somewhere else STAT.

“Sorry, Sergeant.” My voice is an octave too high. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Okafor stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“What are you doing in here?”

I blink at him. “What does it look like I’m doing, Sergeant?”

“I didn’t realize a time travel movie got you so worked up you had to come jack off in here like it’s porn,” Okafor deadpans.

I shrug, aiming for casual, but that’s hard to achieve when your superior just saw you nut. “What can I say? It’s been a long time since we had leave. Long time since I’ve been around a woman that’s not off limits.”

Okafor hums and narrows his eyes at me in a way that makes my stomach drop. I swear to God he sees way too much, and he’s just standing there and studying me like I’m a bug under a magnifying glass.

“Get back to the movie,” he finally says. “Or go to sleep. Your choice.”

“Can I wash my hands first?” I drawl.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Stop sassing me, Reyes, or I’ll write you up.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” I say with a smile, already moving to the sink.

I wash my hands twice, watching Okafor’s reflection in the cracked mirror as I do. He doesn’t leave until I do, herding me out with a look that says he’s not done scrutinizing me just yet. Great.

The walk to the hut is short, but it’s cold enough that it clears the last of the fog out of my head. Sure enough, when I duck inside, it’s Spencer that’s there, sitting on his bunk with his rifle broken down across a towel, running a bore snake through the barrel like it owes him money.

“Why aren’t you at the movie?” I ask, toeing off my boots.

“Left early.” He doesn’t look up. “Rifle needed cleaning.”

That rifle got cleaned six hours ago. I watched him do it. But calling him on it might make the man ask questions in return, so I let it go and climb into my bunk instead. I listen to the sounds of Spencer cleaning, parts clicking together and sliding home, letting my thoughts gather.

“Lights out soon?” he asks after a while.

“Whenever you want,” I murmur back.

He racks the bolt home, sets the weapon aside, and turns off the light without another word. Then I’m lying in the dark, listening to the wind test the structural integrity of the hut, and watching the stain that’s shaped like nothing in particular most nights. Tonight it’s shaped like a man’s shoulder. The line of his jaw. His back.

I retrace the whole thing again in my head—his skin under my pinky, his shaking voice when I caught him jerking off because of that small touch, the shape of his dick in my palm.

I finally broke through that iron discipline.