Disclaimers:
Summary:
Warnings:
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by
When we went inside the building there was a dead Unie soldier lying on his back at the foot of the stairs. There was a lot of plaster down in one room that had once been a formal atelier, broken furniture strewn across the floors and a strong smell of sewage, moldy blood and shell grease. Other than that, the house was real intact. It even had glass in the windows. Our boots crunched softly on the broken plaster. Peter Pevensey, and a blond-haired soldier, who had a 214-unit stripe instead of ours, had followed me inside out of the wind.
We stood in the front hall of the shivering house. The house was trembling like a man with malaria, because of the artillery fire but we didn't notice that. After five, no six, straight days of bombardment, you just didn't register anything that wasn't landing close by. Inside it was warmer. The walls deadened the sounds outside, numbing them.
The guy from 214 fished a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. "Smoke?" He held them out with a hand that shook like the house did, but I didn't register his trembling especially at the time either. Peter and I both shook our heads. We waited for him to light up but he pushed the package back. He was so blond that he was looking kind of green. Fatigue can do that to you.
Just for a few moments, standing there was enough. Our breath fogged faint traces. I felt the ugly smells instead of feeling cold prickle in my nose. A lot of the debris on the floor was Unie stuff, the wrappers torn off of shell dressings and cardboard ration packs. I looked down. There was a woman's pink dress ground into the plaster below my feet. Maybe someone had been trying to loot it. The Unies, as evidenced by their refuse had made use of this building before us. It was the sixth day of the counter attack and I was dead tired. To be standing in a stinky, cold house where it wasn't quite so cold was enough.
None of us said anything. The wrappers from the ration packs reminded me that I should eat, if I had anything to eat. I couldn't find my stomach so I didn't know if I was hungry or not and I didn't remember if I'd eaten or not since the Sergeant had last handed the packs out. I stood and considered it.
It was my twenty-eighth day in the field. Our orders were to kill anything that moved: Shoot first and think later, that was the way to stay alive. They had drilled this into us urgently.
There wouldn't be any civilians, they had briefed us, but if there were any alive in the Unie occupied territory, they were fifth columnists, Independantists, terrorists of some type and the Unie had left them alive on purpose. They would be more dangerous than the Unie. The only civilians I had seen had been dead about a week and a half, swollen up like sausages and then frozen, and I had seen plenty of them. I had also seen plenty of Unie bodies. They hadn't been given orders for an official pull back so we had been shelling and then slaughtering them house to house for the entire six days. But the only thing that I had killed was a dog, which had probably already been wounded. When I had seen the size of what I had shot I had thought for a moment that it was a baby and when my unit mates had seen what I had killed they had had a good chuckle.
"What to get some shut eye?" Peter said quietly.
I considered that too. It was mid-afternoon. "Yeah." I said. It was quiet, we weren't expecting a counter attack and if there was a counter attack, then the Unie artillery or bombers would warn us that we were under fire.
The dead Unie guy at the foot of the stairs gave a deep sigh.
I didn't just hear that, I thought, I couldn't have. In front of me, Peter and the blond still had no expressions on their faces, but they stared past my shoulder and they were looking at whatever had made the soft sound I had heard with a shell-shocked blankness. I turned around slowly and somnabulisticly. The Unie's gun was propped against the wall about six feet from him. His uniform was the blotchy brown color that comes from combining blood with khaki and letting it dry out. We scuffed softly forward and stood in a ring around him at the foot of the stairs.
The guy was asleep. I thought unconscious from his wounds, but when we stood around him with our automatic rifles, the quality of the light changed and then his eyes came open. He gave a small jerk. His head and shoulders came up a bit but then he didn't move. He had a couple of weeks' dirty beard on his face but for all that I could see his expression.
Eyes wide, he took it in. Then he looked annoyed. His eyes rolled up in disgust even. I could read his expression just as clear as if he had said what he was thinking aloud. I didn't know what the Unie for "Oh, shit!" was, but if he had said anything, that was what he would have been saying. There he was sleeping peacefully and he'd let three Americans get the drop on him.
He never reached for his gun. Three high strung Americans were pointing assault rifles at him. Three Americans who just stood there and looked and kept looking and then having gotten a good look at their first Unie prisoner of war, kept looking some more.
His mouth firmed up. He squared his shoulders some and stayed on his back. He didn't try saying anything. It was the kid from the 214 who spoke in a voice that was gravelly like he'd forgotten to clear it. "He's a Unie."
I turned my head and looked at the kid. I know we are all suffering a bit from combat fatigue, I thought, but that is really belaboring the obvious. "Yeah," said Peter. "A wounded Unie. I guess he got left behind."
Now, what we were supposed to do next was obvious. Step back because we were a little too close and might be in each others' line of fire and use the rifles to ensure that if he was carrying a small arm he would never get a chance to snatch it out. Our orders, to put it clearly, were to waste him.
"How badly wounded do you think he is?" My voice sounded like I had forgotten to clear it too.
"I don't know," said Peter. "Do you want to check?"
"Okay." I said.
Shoot first, think later, the sergeant had drilled us. All the same, I turned my rifle up and as Peter and Blond stepped back, I squatted carefully and laid my hand on the guy's chest. Looking down I could see it clearly. My hand was dirty, like I had been digging in earth. His uniform jacket was close to the color of earth, because of the blood in it. I pawed him. I didn't come up with the exact source of the blood, but I did discover that he had no small arm in his pockets or on his webbing belts. I also couldn't help meeting his eyes.
The Unie had brown eyes. They looked like bloodshot cue balls. They turned up inquiringly. They were alert eyes, not the eyes of a guy fogged out on morphine or half dead. Adrenaline had probably cleared his brain. He was taking his predicament pretty calmly too. I kept my hands patting slow, not roughly so he wouldn't freak out on me. When I stood up, I picked up the Unie's weapon. "He's not armed, guys."
"Where's he bleeding?" Peter asked.
"I don't know." I said.
"Didn't you find it?" Peter's voice got waspish.
I've known Peter Pevensey, or known of Peter for a lot of years. He and I were at the same high school. He was the jock with the smart mouth that I hated. He lost the smart mouth while we were in basic training, and somewhere along the line I forgot that I hated him. I got used to his ways. With the casualty rate we had, all that counted was if a guy did his job or not. Peter always did his job. It was irrelevant to remember if I liked him or hated him. So I ignored the sharp tone.
"Fuck off." I advised Peter. "You look."
The Unie was breathing deep and scared. He wasn't acting scared, but his breaths were coming up from the bottom of his lungs and his fists were balled. Looking at him, I was aware that there was something that I was being careful not to try to figure out. From the puckered up expression on Peter's face, I would say that he was trying to figure it out. "Think he can stand?"
I passed the Unie's weapon to Blond and went on my knees again beside the Unie. I pulled on his shoulder and levered him up. He came up surprisingly easy and, as I got him on his feet, I turned his wrists up so that he was holding them above his head.
The Unie was an average guy. He was the same size I was. He was dressed in a heavy green uniform, the wrong shade of green. He was kind of pasty looking though. I figured that was blood loss. He moved his lips like he was going to say something but it was just a quiver of unspoken sound.
I think it was Peter's idea to take him upstairs. Anyway, Peter gestured with his gun and he backed up the stairs warily and Blond and I followed with the prisoner ahead of us. I pushed the prisoner but he didn't buckle enough to fall down and all the way up I thought, If he folds up and collapses I'm going to have to step aside because I am so tired I don't think I can catch him.
Peter swung his rifle from room to room on the upstairs landing. Nothing: Just what had once been a dressing station. It was like walking on leaves. There were IV bags and wads of bloodstained bandage and plastic bags that slithered and hissed. It all came to the top of our boots. In one of the rooms there was a double bed, heaped up with an untidy mound of quilts. Peter walked us all in there.
"Okay, now. Find out where he's wounded." Peter directed me.
"You do it."
The prisoner faced us with his chin up and his eyes wary. He was looking at each one of in turn frowning, and in the bewilderment of his frown, was an increasing anxiety that looked like disgust again on his face. You could see that he was thinking, What are these guys doing? And that he didn't trust us one bit.
Neither Peter nor I moved. Blond put down the two rifles he was carrying and went up to the Unie again. He pawed over him, much like I had. Only Blond wound up searching the Unie by feel mostly, keeping his face turned awkwardly away. I could tell that he was avoiding meeting the Unie's eyes. "I can't find a hole in his clothes." Blond mumbled.
"Peter," I said. "Why are we checking him for injuries?"
"That's what it says in our regulations," Peter said irritably. "It's even in the Geneva Convention. If we take a prisoner and he's wounded, we have to give him medical treatment for his wounds."
"Yes, but..."
"It's probably only a small opening. Look under his clothes." Peter ordered Blond. We had all seen plenty of dead guys who didn't have any obvious marks on them, so what Peter said made sense. There were plenty of bullets zipping around, small enough that they wouldn't leave a hole in cloth bigger than a cigarette burn.
"But we can't take prisoners." I said. "There's no provosts anywhere near here to turn him over to."
So Blond opened the Unie's jacket up and his shirt under it and began sliding his hands around underneath. The Unie was meeting my eyes. Brown, foreign, enemy eyes were fixed mutely on mine. He didn't give Blond any trouble.
"Pull his jacket off. Yeah." Peter said.
Webbing belts, stiff filthy khaki and limp green cloth began to form a heap at the Unie's feet.
"Peter," I said. "What are we trying to do? If we bring him out there, the sergeant's just going to shoot him."
"No, he's a prisoner!" Peter said angrily. "Once he's a prisoner we have to take care of him!"
I realized why Peter was making the big deal about trying to treat the Unie's wounds. It was because Peter didn't want to march the Unie outside and stand him up in front of our sergeant. He was doing this to delay doing that.
"Find it!" Peter said. Blond kept pulling clothes off. The Unie's arms had to come down of course and he half put them back. I saw a beautifully muscled torso, thinly furred, two dark nipples the size of a dollar coin, a narrow navel, a belly that was jumping with each frightened breath. There wasn't much blood under his shirt. There wasn't any. There were a few grazes, one on the back of his arm just above the elbow, but so little that if you had that and you took it to a dressing station, they'd put their boots in your ass for malingering.
Why Blond took off the Unie's boots, I don't know. But Peter and I didn't stop him, so Blond did that and yanked the enemy soldier's trousers down and off. He stood naked. Blond inspected him closely. The Unie had a cut cock. It was thick and limp, and he had balls that were shriveled up tight, but were still the size of small Christmas oranges. He didn't keep his hands up. He held them down swaying in front of his crotch as if he didn't know if he should cover up or not.
Blond stepped back, and there was nothing to keep me from getting an eyeful of the naked prisoner. "Ummm..?" said Blond. I guess I was goggling at our prisoner as if I'd never been in a room with a naked guy before.
Peter looked. Blond looked. We were all looking at the prisoner's cock. It was a perfectly normal, if large cock. The guy was completely unwounded. He was shivering violently.
In my pants, I felt a stirring. I guess it had already started while Blond was stripping the Unie. Now that I was looking at him completely naked, my cock was straining at the fly of my trousers. Shit. I eased my hips back, changed my stance so that it would be less obvious. I snuck a look at Peter. Christ, I thought. If Peter sees that, he's going to realize that I go for guys.
But Peter was gazing at the prisoner. "Okay then... I guess he's not wounded." He said dumbly. "I guess it wasn't his blood. I guess, he looks like he's okay..." This house had been a Unie dressing station. It made sense. It had never been his blood, but the blood of other Unie soldiers whom he must have been helping earlier.
I looked at Blond. Blond had a weird little smile on his face. I looked at the prisoner again, because really that was all I wanted to look at. He had a beautiful body. All he had on was a tiny chain necklace around his throat. His ribs stood out like weals. He was just shuddering with cold and the mist was coming from his mouth in thin white wisps as he gasped. His face was sealed up, dumb, a study in misery, with a flared nose and crooked trembling lips and eyes like targets. He had been stripped naked at gunpoint and he thought he was going to die. The courage that he'd had at the foot of the stairs had left him. All that was left was misery and fear and humiliation.
I had a memory suddenly. The memory was of my embarkation leave. I only had twelve hours, not enough time to go home, but my Mom and Dad and two sisters had driven down all the way to the base to spend it with me. We'd gone out for hamburgers and while the women were eating my Dad had asked me to come outside the hamburger shack so he could ask me something. I had been incredulous.
My Dad is one of the most patriotic, rigidly moral people I know. He says it's his duty to pay our taxes to provide roads and schools. He's told me that I must never, ever go on welfare, better to starve first, that he would always support me first. Lying, stealing, cheating in any way, cowardly behavior; I've never seen him do anything of that kind. But there he was telling me that he had civilian clothes and a fake id in the car all ready for me, and if I was willing we could get in and drive until we got to the nearest border.
"You want me to desert!?!" I could not believe it.
"I'm afraid something really bad could happen to you." he'd said, his voice too even with tension and the desire to convince me.
"I'm not afraid of getting killed." I'd said.
"I'm not afraid of your getting killed either. You're a man. That's your decision to make. I'm afraid of something else."
I had thought he was afraid I'd become a cripple, or have to die painfully and slowly. What else could he mean? "No, Dad!" I said. "I'm not deserting. I'm not going AWOL. I'm prepared to face what might happen."
Standing there in that bedroom, suddenly I got an idea that this was what my Dad was afraid of when he said something really bad could happen to me. He was afraid that I would get into a situation like this. We were tormenting the prisoner. We were going to have to shoot him dead, while he was helpless, and what we were doing in the bedroom was tormenting him first.
The sound of my own indrawn breath was so loud that it started me. I moved quickly and jerkily. I gestured at the bed. "Get in it. Go on. Get under those covers." I blurted loudly.
The Unie understood my gesture if not the words. He was happy to scramble swiftly under the heap of bedding. On his way I caught sight of a smooth muscular looking backside with tight ass cheeks. Then he was sitting hunched up, pulling the covers around him to cover up his nakedness.
Peter and Blond looked at me startled. They looked from the Unie to me. I had broken up the tableau but they didn't mind that.
Blond's teeth were chattering when he spoke. "He's right," he said. "I mean, we take him out there he's going to get shot. Soon as we bring him out where the other guys see him. We're going to have to shoot him." His voice was sorrowful.
"It's not right to shoot prisoners we took." Peter said stubbornly.
"It's not right." I agreed quietly, "But the minute they see he's not an American, someone's going to pull their side arm out and shoot him. I've seen that. You've seen that. Haven't you seen that?'
"Yes." said Blond.
We looked at the Unie and at each other. I swayed on my feet. Blond gave an unlovely sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. I am too fucking tired to solve this, I thought. Peter looked down at the floor and around the room. He was thinking hard. He wasn't looking at the Unie or at us.
"I don't wanna shoot him, but.." Blond said.
"Well, you don't have to shoot him. But someone else is going to." I said.
Blond shifted uneasily. "One of you two?"
"I'm not shooting him," I said slowly "Unless the sergeant commands me to. A direct order. Otherwise, I'm not."
If I disobey a direct order, I thought. Would the sergeant shoot me?
The Unie said something. He said it quiet; maybe it wasn't a whole question. It didn't mean anything to us. I threw a sickly smile in his direction to reassure him.
"What are we going to do?" Blond asked.
"I don't know yet." I said.
"Can I offer him a cigarette?"
"Okay."
Blond fished out his pack of cigarettes again and offered one to the Unie. A tremulous smile came out on the Unie's lips. He shook his head. Blond put the pack back.
"Offer him food." Peter suggested.
There was a general rummaging. I found that I had two ration packs tucked in my pockets, which meant that I'd most likely gone nearly two days without eating. No wonder I feel like shit, I thought. I held out some crackers. Blond held out a granola bar that he'd found in his pockets. The Unie looked at us both, one then the other. Then he reached out two grimy hands and took both the offerings. As I stood, I started to chew on a bit of the dry sausage from one of the packs and the Unie ate his granola bar.
"He's hungry." Blond said.
"Look," said Peter. He sat down on the foot of the bed. "You guys are right. If we bring the Unie out where the other guys can see him, he gets shot. If we don't want him shot, we'll have to get him to a provosts' post behind the lines."
I considered that. Slipping away from our unit, that wouldn't be hard. Blond had already mislaid his unit. That was why he was running around with ours. It wouldn't be too difficult to take off. But getting him through the lines to the provosts?
I honestly, seriously considered it. The thing was, I realized that that was what my Dad would have done. He would have disobeyed orders, gone missing from his unit to keep a guy alive and save a human life. But I wasn't even sure which direction behind the lines was, and I knew that we couldn't avoid running into other units other than our own. Those units were just as likely to shoot him as our own was.
I dug my canteen out. We passed them around. Blond was carrying two canteens. We passed them around to the Unie as well and he drank the frigid, near frozen water the same way we did. I started to sway again. I sat on the bed.
This put me rather too close to the Unie, so Peter behind me got up to give me some more space. I'm tired, I thought. I gave up trying to puzzle out a way of keeping the Unie alive. It was too bad, but he was going to be shot and I was going to let it happen. I wasn't going to be able to stop it, any more than the Unie could. I looked at the Unie with a glazed smile on my face.
He's got a gorgeous cock, I thought. I wished he wasn't in the bed. A perfectly good bed to lie down on and there was a fucking Unie prisoner of war in it.
"Umm, maybe we should let him get dressed?" Blond said.
Good idea, I thought. Get another look at that fantastic cock of his, and then I could take the bed.
"No." said Peter. "He's not going to try anything like that. He knows he can't get away from us if he's got no clothes on."
"Yeah, but he's naked." Blond said. I guess he was thinking about the humanitarian aspects.
"So?" Peter responded. "He's under the covers. We're not letting him die of exposure."
"What do you think we should do?" Blond asked me.
"I think we should get under the covers and warm up." I said.
I didn't say it thinking about what it meant. I just said it because it was what I wanted to do. But Blond sat down behind me and after a second Peter sat down on the other side of the Unie soldier so that we were all in a row, sideways on the bed. Peter was against the head of the bed, then the Unie soldier and then me and Blond behind me. It was a double bed. There was a lot of heaving about and tugging on the blankets. There were a lot of blankets but not much room. The Unie got pushed over so that he was against my shoulder and Blond was against my other shoulder. Peter kept pushed so he wouldn't have to touch the wall. The Unie wound up nose to nose with me.
Is this some kind of abuse? I thought. I pulled my knees in. We were all knees under there, and shoulders. Something on Blond's belt had a metal bump that was sticking in to my waist. I decided it wasn't abuse, but it was a damn stupid way to guard a prisoner. If he wanted to fight he had us in range and all our rifles were stacked against the wall. Suppose the little fucker had taken unarmed combat training?
It wasn't so bad under the covers, for all that it was crowded. It felt real good to be lying down. It felt good to have another man's warmth close along my back. I didn't mind the metal thing on Blond's belt, because I could have his body heat. The only thing was that the Unie between Peter and me was very naked. I could feel that he had no cloth on his arm where it was pressed into my side, and that his thigh lying close on my thigh was nude. I had a naked man almost in my arms.
Peter was looking at me over the Unie's head.
"How long is the break?" Blond asked behind me.
"Couple more hours maybe." Peter answered him.
I had a hard on again. The Unie didn't smell so bad for a guy that had been covered in blood. Actually he had a warm, unfamiliar body odor that was kind of attractive. I lay on my back carefully, to make sure that none of the guys realized that I had a hard on. That meant I was taking up a lot of room, not lying on my side. Peter saw lying on his side facing the Unie and me.
"You still cold, Georgie?" Peter asked me.
"I'm okay."
"How about you, Blond?"
Blond laughed. "This feels funny. I mean, he's an enemy..."
"Yeah." Peter agreed.
I was afraid Blond's wrist was going to stray across my belly. It was real close to my cock. I turned a bit towards the Unie again. I didn't know where to put my hands. I put one of them on his ribs. They were warm compared to my hands. The Unie was smiling nervously at me. I wanted to feel how hot his cock would be in my palm. I wanted to bite him. I gave him a little smile back. I was trying to figure out where Peter had his hands.
"Oh God, I am so tired..." Blond sighed.
Where is Peter's hand? I thought. Will he notice if I accidently brush over this guy's cock? I'd better not do this. That would be molesting the guy.
Peter was smiling at me. He had a small fixed smile on his face. His hand was on the Unie's hip, moving. The Unie gave a slight twitch. Peter gave a little nod, telling me something.
I slid my fingers over the Unie's warm belly. I found Peter's hand. It was clasped around the Unie's cock. It was moving, giving subtle little tugs. As I met Peter's eyes, I slid my hand in to join his. I cupped around the Unie's balls. The hair was silky. The man was lying still, with every breath pushing up against me. A hard fold of my own canvas drill pants dug into my stretched out wrist. The Unie had no expression on his face.
I stroked the man's balls gently. I fixed my eyes on Peter's. Peter, I thought. Should we be doing this, Man? We're feeling up a guy we shouldn't be. I waited for the Unie to exclaim. I waited for an unintelligible protest, words in the Unie language that would mean, "Stop! Let go of me! Don't do this!"
Peter nodded at me. Peter? I thought. Peter thinks it's cool to grope a guy's crotch? Oh, Man. Peter, of all guys!
The Unie sighed tremblingly. His balls had relaxed some. They weren't the tight wrinkled lumps I had first stared at. They felt good in my palm. The hair on his bush was more wiry than on his balls. Peter's knuckle was thick and hard where it moved rhythmically against the web of my thumb.
I shook my head at Peter. No, I told him. This isn't right. Is it? Only I didn't stop. Another shaky breath came out of the Unie. He squirmed a little. His arm was pinned under Peter's arm and he was drawing it out. He moved slowly. He turned his face and buried it against my shoulder. A grin spread across Peter's mouth.
"He's just wrapped his hand around my prick." Peter said softly.
Blond, behind me didn't know what was going on. He said nothing for a few seconds. Then he spoke in a puzzled tone, "Well, give him a punch then, and he'll let go of it."
I snickered. A laugh came up out of me and Peter laughed also. The Unie had his face buried against my shoulder and now his lips were moving. Of course Peter didn't give the Unie a punch. And then Blond slid his arm across my hip. I guess he was going to try to help Peter out by prying the Unie's hand away, but he never got that far. He not only found that Peter and I had our hands feeling up the Unie guy, but my bulging hard on was obvious. Blond let his arm lie there without moving it. The Unie had a hard on by now, and from the way that Peter had started to move, little jerky thrusts towards the Unie, I'd have bet good money that he had a major boner for the Unie to pluck at.
Blond, I guess, was blown away. Anyway he didn't move or say anything. The Unie was nuzzling my shoulder an inch below my chin. Peter let go of the Unie's prick so I got a chance to slide my hand up and take over. His prick was so thick it filled my finger and thumb. It felt amazing. The skin on the head of his prick was so soft and smooth and warm that I kept squeezing the head of his dick. I guess every guy has really soft skin there, but I'd never noticed it before with my own. I'd always noticed what my hand felt like to my prick, instead of what my prick felt like to my hand. Rubbing on another guy's prick was very different. The Unie was kissing my shoulder. Peter was squirming his combat pants down and Blond was frozen, leaning over on top of me.
Afterwards I can't say if my strongest impression of the experience was erotic or crowded. It was real crowded in that bed. Peter got his pants off and I got mine off and our boots went with them. The Unie kissed my mouth with his eyes closed. His breath was stale but it didn't turn me off; His lips were so warm and firm.
Blond leaned on me, with eyes that kept going wide like a Japanese anime cartoon, when he wasn't blinking. He said. Ummmm...?" and slid his fingers onto my prick.
"Okay... Yeah, it is okay!" I assured him.
I don't think I had been nearly warm enough for the last six days, but you know how it is when you have sex. Some how the combination of more than one person's body heat makes the bed toasty warm remarkably quickly. I didn't even notice that I was finally warm enough because I was too interested in what I was doing.
We had the Unie sandwiched between us. Our jackets came off. I turned over to pull Blond's jacket and shirt off. I had bare masculine skin to both sides of me. When I stripped Blond, his hands followed mine, helping me, touching the backs of my hands agreeing with me. Blond grabbed the Unie by the chin and started kissing him. Blond had a hard on. It caught painfully in his elastic as I skinned his shorts down, and he yelped without breaking off the kiss he was giving and getting. The Unie was breathing harder than any of us were. We were squirming over each other. I couldn't get my hand on the Unie's prick, because Peter was doing it, so one hand I put on Blond's prick and one hand on my own.
Then Peter wanted to turn the Unie over onto his side. He turned him so the man faced me. I knew what he was doing, going behind the Unie. He was lining his prick up with the Unie's crack. I pulled Peter's hips to ease him in closer. The man moaned as he felt Peter's fat prick sinking in between the cheeks of his ass. Peter shoved it up as high as it would go. The Unie's hands were roaming over me. He was whimpering. His hard on was as thick and hard as a log of wood, butting into my thigh. I tried to jerk us off one handed, both pricks at once, squeezing them together. I wasn't sure whose hand was pumping at my dick. Was it Blond's or Peter's? It wasn't Blond's hand. He was squeezing my ass.
I pushed my ass back at Blond, wanting him to slide his fingers into my crack. I knew it would feel even better if he did that. He didn't know. He pulled my ass against his crotch and humped me. I wanted him to stick his dick into my ass, so that Peter could fuck the Unie at the same time Blond could be fucking me, but I didn't dare vocalize what I wanted. Nobody spoke. The only sound was smothered groans and urgent panting and a wet stck..stkk...stkk of a wet hand making friction on a prick. Peter was rolling his eyes back, with a sandbagged look as he got close to cumming. The Unie's face was crumpled as if he was almost crying, but he can't have been hurting, not the way he was humping my leg.
Peter grunted and his face went slack. I leaned over and kissed him over the shoulder of the man who was sandwiched between us.
"You wanta do him?" Peter gasped. "You wanta try it, now?"
"Yeah... yeah!" I breathed. The Unie whimpered again as we heaved about. I found a wet slippery spot on his ass where Peter's cum had smeared. I struggled over. Peter was holding the Unie's wrist's, as if the man was resisting us, but the Unie started kissing Peter frenziedly and his hands clung to Peter's head.
I was glad Peter had started the hole for me, because I would have had trouble otherwise, I think. I spread his cheeks, squirming closer. I slid my dick up against his crack. The opening yielded and I pressed in. It didn't yield again. His ass was tight. I pushed. It didn't give. The Unie started to back towards me. I was pushed into Blond and then there was nowhere to go. He forced his own ass back onto my cock. "Oh fuck...oh fuck!" I moaned. "Fuck, that's tight. Oh my God, he's warm inside."
Inch by inch, he pressed back until my cock slid as deep as it would go. I had never felt anything so tight. I started to thrust. It was so good that I felt like groaning.
Blond squirmed about. He turned around. He clambered over us. "Is it okay if I ask him to suck it? Guys, would that be okay?" His hoarse voice was so soft he was whispering.
"Oh yeah, do it!" I moaned. Peter broke the kiss. The Unie didn't know why Peter struggled away. Peter pushed his face towards Blond's crotch and then snatched the quilt as Blond's arm and shoulder were briefly bared. He covered Blond. I hardly got a look. Blond's big pink cock was standing straight up. Then the Unie's dark head was in my sight. I heard the Unie gulp. The sight of the back of his head going up and down in front of me practically brought me off.
I worked the Unie's prick while I fucked him. Peter lay back with Blond in his arms. The Unie sucked Blond's prick. I fucked the Unie's ass. We were gasping and heaving all together, like some kind of giant caterpillar trying to move, one body bumping and heaving into the next. Peter reached forward. The Unie thrashed. Even though there was a cock in his mouth he started to cry out louder than any sound he had made so far. "Ahhh...! Ah! Ah! Ohh!" He kept twitching as he sucked on Blond's dick.
"What are you doing?!" I gasped.
"I'm pinching his tits." Peter said. "He's got real sensitive tits."
The hot body of the Unie was twitching and backing into me. The rhythmic motion of his head bobbing frantically up and down as he deep-throated Blond's cock met my own rhythm. I don't know if I was hurting him as I slammed into him. I know I had my hands full of his hard swollen cock. His prick was so big it completely filled my hands. The warmth and motion brought me off.
"UhhhhhhhHH!" I groaned. My cum surged into his slick tight tunnel. Wave after wave made me shudder.
When the shock waves had passed, I could have fallen asleep there and then, with my softening prick still jammed up inside his chute. I did flop forward on his back and lie there. My head rolled in exhausted pleasure as his shoulders went up and down. He was still sucking Blond off. Blond only lasted a few moments more than I did. I stayed where I was, not moving so that I wouldn't fall out, until Blond shot into the Unie's throat. Blond had his eyes squeezed shut. The Unie gulped audibly, swallowing.
He didn't try to get off of Blond or roll me off. He sprawled under me with his legs wide. Blond's eyelids fluttered as he lolled back. "Wow... He... He took me right into his throat." He moved suddenly, sitting up, pushed the Unie away. "Guys...?"
"What?" I murmured.
"What do we do now?"
The Unie stirred under me. I pulled him up. I pulled him on all fours again, but my cock fell out. "He's still got a hard on." I said. I groped over it. "That was good, Unie, Huh? You liked that?" The Unie's head dangled. He stayed on all fours drooping.
"We got to bring him off." Peter said. "Fair is fair."
I figured we'd give the Unie a hand job or something. That was the only idea I had. I was willing to do that. Peter was a lot more creative.
"How about it, Blond?" Peter said.
"Okay."
"Lie down on your front." Peter directed.
Blond lay down. He understood what Peter was telling him. He spread his legs wide. Peter grabbed the Unie's arm and we guided him over. We laid him face down on Blond's back. The Unie was looking from one of us to the other, he was looking a question. I guess he didn't believe we were telling him to do it. But I smeared my hand up with spit and spread it on the Unie's big prick. I guided it down towards Blond's ass. And Peter held the cheeks of Blond's ass open.
Slowly the Unie impaled Blond. Blond sighed. "It hurts..."
Peter's hands tightened on the Unie's hips, making the forward motion halt. "You want him to stop?"
"No..." Blond sighed. "I think it feels good too. Go on. Don't get him to stop." His voice was dreamy. We showed the Unie we wanted him to go on.
The Unie lay on Blond's back, fucking his ass. I rubbed my hand over the Unie's rhythmically contracting ass. The Unie looked at me. He opened his lips so I leaned in and I kissed him again. Blond moaned softly as the Unie and I kissed, our tongues seeking in each other's mouths. I felt Peter's hand move behind and below mine. I knew he started finger fucking the Unie from the motion. It was so warm. I could smell cum. I kept my eyes open so that I could look into the man's dark beautiful eyes.
"Oh, Man..." Blond sighed. I guess Peter must have started finger fucking the Unie pretty hard because the man started grunting. His pelvic thrusts were deep jerky ones. A great twitch went through him and I knew he had cum.
The group fuck on the bed must have taken us maybe an hour. After the Unie came, nobody moved until Blond rolled about a bit and got him off, so he could get more air, a few minutes later. I had my arms around Blond, so they were around the Unie who was between us too. My mind was as relaxed as my body, satiated on the images and sensations of our tumble. I guess I had nothing in my mind, which, after the last few days of combat, was a good thing.
That lasted until there was an abrupt noise downstairs. Peter jacked up on his elbow hurriedly.
"PEVENSEY!" It was one of our guys, yelling inside the building below. "GEORGE!" He was yelling real loudly.
"Don't answer him! He'll come up!" I spoke quickly and softly. Peter didn't make a sound. He stayed levered up on one arm wide eyed. We listened. The guy didn't shout again. A little later we heard the door bang. That was funny, that he would shut the door behind him automatically in a wrecked house.
Peter lay down again. Neither Blond nor the Unie had moved, and I hadn't moved, I had only spoken. "He's gone." Peter said.
"Is it alright?" Blond asked.
"I think so." Peter said.
By the time I woke up again it was getting light. It wasn't the shelling that woke me up but the room getting light again. I was thick headed, comfortably warm, aching all over, and oh Christ! aware that I had slept the afternoon, the evening and the night away.
Where the hell would the unit be by now? It wouldn't be anywhere close by or they would have surely found us. The Unies could be somewhere near. God knew who was in control of the territory at this point, if anybody.
"Shit!' I hissed. I tumbled out of the bed. I was listening frantically. All I heard was the far off pop-pop of the bombs landing in the hills.
I found somebody's combat pants and started to haul them on. When they stuck because they were somebody else's, I slowed down, not because I cared at that point if I swiped Blond's trousers, but because I realized that they could be the Unie's. I sure as fuck didn't want to go putting HIS uniform on. I flung them down again and spotted my own.
"What's up!" Peter was sitting up.
"I don't know. We slept the fucking night away." I hissed back.
"Jesus." Peter remarked. He started to laugh. It wasn't a laugh like he thought it was funny, but a laugh of amazement. "Well, we know now that the Unie isn't going to try anything hostile if he gets the drop on us."
I looked back at the bed. It was half-light in the room. The Unie and Blond were still nestled in each other's arms. "Aw fuck, Peter." I said. "We've lost our unit."
"You're right." He sounded startled. "They must have been calling us because they were going to move on."
I got my trousers on, but had to look under the warm mound of quilts to find my socks and shirt. I pulled them out without making the two sleepers stir. When I had them on, though, I crawled back into the bed.
"I thought the Unie was fucking stupid, going to sleep like that." I said. "Now I know how he did it." I shivered, sitting hunched up. The Unie was awake. When I crawled in again, I saw that his eyes were open. I threw him a wry grin. "Fuck, Peter, how are we going to figure out where our unit went?" I asked.
"We're not." he said calmly. "I got it figured out. We're going to take the Unie, march him along until we get behind the lines. And anyone we see, what we are going to say is that some officer or the other ordered us to take this very important prisoner to the provosts. Some Major. Major Blanchard. We just make the name up." He continued. "That way he won't get shot, not if we say some officer has ordered that we don't kill him. And that'll provide a reason for us not being with our unit too."
I just stared at Peter. I could see a few flaws in his plan. Some of those flaws, like not having a clue where the lines were and having to maintain the fiction of flimflam major were the least of it. But I looked down at Blond. I wondered how good he was at carrying off a whopping lie. I wondered if he would be willing to put his career on the line and face charges. I didn't even know the guy's name. We were still calling him Blond.
Then I looked at the Unie. I gave a deep sigh. I looked at Peter. Peter gave me an encouraging smile. The Unie had dark eyelashes. He had a beautiful shapely mouth with a deep notch in his upper lip. Yesterday I had helped push those lips down on a cock and yesterday I had had my prick crammed deep in his ass while he moaned and pushed back to make it good for me. It wasn't the fact that I had never had my prick in another man's ass before. The Unie was my first. But it was the fact that I had been there at all. After fucking him, there was no way in the world at all that I was going to permit anyone to kill him.
"Peter." I said. "If we turn him over to the provosts they will probably kill him."
Peter frowned.
"Sure, they'll hang onto him while they try to figure out who Major Blanchard is, but after?" I said.
"By then he'll be in a prisoner of war camp."
"You think he'll be safe there?"
"Won't he be?" Peter's voice was uncertain.
"I don't know." I said. "But I know Viet Cong died in American prisoner of war camps. I know that Germans and Japanese died in American prisoner of war camps. Hell, I know that American prisoners died in American prisoner of war camps during the Civil War. Mostly they don't kill them outright. They just let them starve to death behind the barbed wire."
Peter looked bleak. "What do we do?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
He shook his head.
"We don't do a damned thing." I said.
I leaned over and shook Blond awake. "Get up. Get dressed." I said.
We sat in a row again, the Unie, back in his foul brown blotched uniform between Peter and me. He watched us carefully, expectantly. Blond, who was a cute looking kid after a night's sleep when he was no longer looking green, sat beside me. The four of us chewed down the dry rations that we had, splitting them evenly between us while we waited for it to get fully light. From time to time there was a distant thunderous roar with the hissing and pattering of debris after it, when one of the shells hit the wreckage of the town, but not much was landing within a quarter of a mile of us.
"Georgie." said Peter. "The guy is gay, right?"
I glanced at the Unie and smiled at him.
"He wouldn't have responded back to us if he wasn't, right?"
"I think he's probably gay." I shrugged. "But how are we to know?"
"He got it off. He had as much fun as any of us."
Blond giggled. "But that would make you two both gay as well." he pointed out. We looked at him. "Me too." he amended. "That would make me gay too. I went along with it."
Peter and I grinned. Peter got up and went to the window. He looked out at the gray rubble strewn vista. "I think it's light enough to get moving."
"Where do you think we can get water?" Blond asked. "These canteens are almost empty." He shook one before hooking it back onto his webbing. The other he left on the bed.
I nodded agreeing. It was a problem. We stood up. The Unie stood up with us. I pointed back to the bed and obediently he sat down on it again. He looked at us as we walked to the door of the room. I was the last one out. I was carrying his rifle.
In the doorway I paused. I went back and bent over him. When he looked up, I kissed him. I kissed him on the forehead. I heard Blond and Peter's boots thumping on the stairs. The Unie's eyes rested on me, looking mystified as I walked out the door. He wasn't looking scared, just looking blank.
At the bottom of the stairs, Peter asked. "Well, do we leave his rifle here or not?"
"Are you nuts?" I said. "He's a Unie. You want to give a Unie a weapon? He could use it to blow some of our friends' heads off."
"But if you don't leave it, he'll be defenceless." Blond pointed out.
"You guys are worse than I am." I said.
"Either he's an enemy or he isn't." Blond said stubbornly. "And you two guys told me he wasn't. In that case he's going to need his gun."
"Shit." I said. It wasn't worth arguing. I leaned it up against the wall where we had first found it. "I just hope he doesn't use it on us." We went out into the smoke stained gray dawn of the broken street.
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