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Chief Aiken Oakley

Oakley nodded once, then went back to drinking his brew, but now he was hyperaware of the green eyes that continued to dart in his direction. Every couple of minutes, a chill would run down his spine, and he’d have to fight not to glance back.

Dusmeyer started rambling about the stats the Braves pitcher had during last night’s game, but Oakley wasn’t listening. He was agreeing, but he didn’t know what to.

“Yo, ain’t that Sawyer over there giving that brunette you were admiring the brush-off?”

Oakley finally had a reason to turn around, and sure enough, the pretty woman was standing close enough that her round breast caressed Sawyer’s upper arm.

Oakley tried to play it cool. “Yeah, I think it is. And I wasn’t admiring her. I just noticed her.”

“Well, looks like you still got a shot. Sawyer’s clearly not interested.” Dusmeyer was staring blatantly. “He must have someone at home.”

Probably does.

“She ordered Sawyer a shot, but he turned that down too,” Dusmeyer told him.

“What the fuck, Dust? You gonna give a play-by-play commentary on the man all night?” Oakley frowned. “Mind your own damn business.”

Dusmeyer stared at him for a moment before he scoffed and went back to his drink.

Trying not to watch Sawyer was like trying not to rubber-neck at a car crash in the next lane. He risked a glance back to see the brunette rolling her eyes and walking away from Sawyer with a look of disappointment.

When she was gone, Sawyer stared dead at him in obvious invitation and held up the abandoned shot left on the bar.

Did he want to accept?

It took thirty seconds before Oakley was off his stool and telling Dusmeyer he’d check him later.

He’d barely settled on the seat beside the other chief when the man’s spicy scent overtook his senses.

“Chief.”

Sawyer slid the shot of amber liquid toward him, then raised a finger at the bartender to bring him one too.

“Chief,” Oakley responded.

He didn’t wait for Sawyer to get his own before he downed the shot. It wasn’t as if they were about to do a toast or some shit.

The alcohol seared his throat before it heated his chest with an enjoyable sensation. His slight hum of appreciation was his way of saying thank you.

After Sawyer put his own back and took a few gulps of his beer, Oakley thought he should say something.

“Your crew ditch you?”

Sawyer didn’t turn in his direction, his eyes still on the television screen above them.

The game was a blowout and not that interesting, so he wondered if Sawyer was another who didn’t like to look into his eyes.

“Nah. They went to a country bar… I chose this one.”

“Why?”

“I hate line dancing.”

Oakley chuckled. “Okay, I get that. So, you don’t mind chillin’ alone, huh?”

Sawyer turned and pinned him with a serious glare, holding eye contact like a lion locks onto a gazelle.

“I prefer it,” he rumbled.

Oakley stared back, maybe for too long, before he thought of a retort.

“Well, I’m not exactly a lone wolf, but my guys like to get a bit wild, and that’s not my speed.”

“I’m too old for that scene now.”

Sawyer stared back , bold and clearly unfazed by their color. He let out a noncommittal sound and then reached into the back pocket of his dark jeans and pulled out his wallet. When Sawyer dropped two twenties on the bar and stood, Oakley assumed their brief encounter was over.

“It’s getting late, chief, and I walked, so Imma head back.”

Since all Oakley had was his free shot, he left a five-dollar tip and got up. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He and Sawyer left the bar together and began to walk the couple of miles back to the base.

The first mile they were quiet, and the silence was as comfortable and refreshing as the cool breeze coming off the ocean.

Sawyer had a long, swaggering gait and he walked with purpose, as if he were on his way to do something important, instead of falling into his bunk.

“What’s up, Sawyer? Why are you walking back to base with me, huh? You don’t like brunettes?”

“I don’t like pushy brunettes.”

“You ever heard the phrase ‘work smart, not hard?’”

“Yep, but that shit doesn’t apply to my dates.”

Dates, not women. Hmm.

Sawyer’s voice blended into the night. It was deep, with a tone as soothing as the rustling of the leaves.

The long, dark road was flanked on both sides by dense shrubs that morphed into a forest of various towering trees. The moonlight provided enough illumination to keep them on the narrow sidewalk and out of the way of passing vehicles.

They still had a quarter mile to go, but Oakley could no longer ignore the call of nature. He stepped off the concrete and pushed his way through the bushes.

“You know about a shortcut that I don’t?”

“I gotta piss.”

Oakley went far enough in that anyone driving by, especially an MP, wouldn’t see him.

He was midstream when he heard Sawyer come up beside him. The sound of his belt rattling and then his zipper being pulled down almost fucked up his flow.

Oakley fought not to glance over to get a glimpse of Sawyer’s junk because the vibes wafting off the other chief were saturating him.

Among Oakley’s numerous talents, picking up on another person’s cues was one of his best.

A warm rush of energy ignited in the pit of his stomach at the sudden awareness of need. The arousing sensation complemented the three beers and the shot of whisky already down there.

Oakley took a few steps in reverse until his back connected with tree. He was ten whole feet away from Sawyer, and he could still smell his allure. The chief’s intoxicating scent of leather and light tones of amber and musk from his cologne blended perfectly with the earthy sweetness of the autumn forest.

Oakley closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He rarely experienced this kind of thrill from desire.

He didn’t know how long he’d stood there basking in the aroma and the thrumming in his groin, but when he felt a heavy gaze on him, he opened his eyes, meeting Sawyer’s head-on.

The air thickened, charged with an unspoken agreement to stop acting coy and do this fuckin’ thing.

His heart beat faster with every slow, deliberate move Sawyer took toward him. His steps were bold and sure, his glare never wavering the closer he drew toward him.

The awareness of nature’s elements faded, leaving only want and hunger simmering between them.

The moment Sawyer’s chest touched his, the heat from their closeness wrapped around his body in a constrictive embrace, awakening feelings that’d been dormant for a while.

Sawyer didn’t waste time going for the button on Oakley’s jeans and then his zipper until his cock was out in the open, the cool air doing nothing to lessen its stiffness.

Fuck, he was so turned on by Sawyer’s confidence.

He dropped his head back, his skull knocking against the rough bark. Sawyer bit the sensitive skin on his throat, and Oakley released a pained growl of stimulation.

Shit .

He bared his throat like a goddamn submissive animal and let Sawyer sink his teeth in deeper while Sawyer hurriedly got his own zipper down and pressed their cocks together in a two-handed grip.

Sawyer’s calloused palms provided a friction he hadn’t realized he craved.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, clamping both hands onto Sawyer’s waist just in case the other man didn’t realize how much he wanted to get off this way.

Sawyer stopped abusing his flesh and licked over his Adam’s apple as he increased the pace, pumping them so fast and rough that it boarded on painful, but in the sexiest way possible.

Oakley’s breath was already quickening, a symphony of gasps and moans escaping his lips. Every thought was consumed by his impending release, a primal instinct that plummeted him to the brink of delirium.

Sawyer’s cock was as rigid and hard as an uncut diamond, pulsing against his, igniting every nerve he had until he no longer cared how desperate he sounded.

The culmination of weeks of restraint and dry spells had him damn near choking on the forbidden fruit Sawyer offered, ripe and ready to be devoured.

He needed to come.

“Damn you, chief, for making me do this.” Sawyer’s voice was strained and gravelly, fading in and out while he stroked them closer to the edge. “I promised myself I’d leave you alone.”

“Don’t,” was all Oakley could manage to say. He wanted Sawyer to do everything to him his dirty mind could conjure, like jerking him off in the woods in the middle of the night.

“Careful,” Sawyer warned, rearing back and leveling those mint-green eyes on him. “I’m greedy as fuck, Oakley. And you don’t want to know what happens when I’m denied what I want.”

Oh shit.

Why was Sawyer’s dominating attitude turning him on so much? Typically, he was the one in control.

As if the man knew how close he was, Sawyer demanded with a breathy snarl, “Look at me. Let me see those eyes.”

Oakley complied without hesitation and opened his eyes. The moment his glare locked onto Sawyer’s, he bucked his hips and Oakley gripped Sawyer’s waist harder, refusing to let him get away.

Sawyer pressed their foreheads together and released a long, aching sigh against his lips as a blissful flow of warmth seeped over the head of Oakley’s cock and down his shaft.

Oakley thought Sawyer was about to kiss him, but he remained an inch away from his mouth, licking his lips as if it were an act of indulgence he was denying himself.

Respect, intrigue, and passion for Sawyer coiled in Oakley’s core until his knees threatened to buckle. He couldn’t withhold the sweet ache of longing to release another second as he dove over the edge.

Sawyer milked him good, not stopping until Oakley slumped against him and buried his nose in the other man’s warm throat.

“When this mission is over, chief, I’m gonna take you in every way I want…and you’re gonna fuckin’ let me, and you’re gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Oakley was still gasping for breath when he whispered, “I don’t doubt it.”