Kane:
I run through a maze of exploding mines, desperate to reach the end. All around me I see blurs of men in digi's, guns screaming as they fire on each other. I stumble and slam face first into sand. I struggle to get up but the sand keeps dragging me back down. Finally I manage to yank myself free, but when I look down, I'm covered blood. It's happening again. All around me, uniformed men are dying.
They're torn to pieces. Their blood won't stop flowing, surrounding me. I scream and floundered through the red muck. I reach the nearest body and grab for his dog tags.
Emilio Ortega. No, no no no. Please, not again. I back away from his body and trip over another form behind me.
It's Jason.
Oh, god.
I slowly stand up and make my way to the next body.
Isaiah.
I stand there, the still flowing blood forming a lake around me. My tears mix with the gruesome scene until I can only see shadows.
I fall to my knees, praying the blood will rise over me and take me away from this pain. As I open my mouth to scream, I hear a quiet voice behind me.
"You didn't tell me your name."
I jerked. The voice was familiar, after all, I had been thinking about it nonstop for days. But why would he be here? He shouldn't be. He was everything this place was not.
I slowly turn to face him.
It was him. His devastatingly green eyes soft and compassionate. His head tilted as if he was waiting for an answer, but I couldn't remember anything past his eyes.
His pink lips quirked into a smile, and he spoke again.
"You didn't tell me your name."
His voice was smooth with a faint lilt. It washed over me, eradicating all of my troubles, cleansing me of my past.
He was walking towards me now, his freckled hand outstretched. He was so beautiful.
When he was only a handbreadth away from me, he reached up to my cheek. His fingers drifted over my scars. His grass green eyes implored me quietly.
"Don't cry."
I shot awake. The feel of his fingers on my skin still lingered. Breath exploded in and out of my chest. The dream had started as it normally did, but then...
He saved me. As soon as I had heard his voice, everything else in the dream faded away. There was no more blood, no bodies, no explosions.
Sweat was running in rivulets down my chest, and I realized that I was painfully hard. My cock was tenting the sheets and demanding attention.
I usually don't jack off. In bootcamp everyone's so tightly packed together that it would be hard to get away with rubbing one off. Overseas, it was basically the same thing. And I was usually too tired to bother. Since I came back home, The pain was too great and raw to even think about getting hard. But now, I couldn't think about anything else.
Sliding my hand underneath the sheets, I grip my dick. I started to slowly stroke, images of copper hair and freckled skin flitting through my mind. Fully hard now, I pumped my cock faster, imagining it was him.
Imagining that he was leaning over my chest, nibbling on my ear while his small hand stroked my cock. I reached up with my free hand to tug on my nipples, but in my mind, it was his teeth, pulling tightly, then laving away the sting with his tongue.
In my fantasy, he licked and sucked his way down my chest. I could feel my self starting to come as I thought about his perfect lips wrapped around my cock. The image blew my over the edge, and I erupted with a loud groan.
Holy shit.
I haven't responded this way to a man in... well, ever. The few relationships I've had were short lived, and mainly about sex.
Glancing at the clock, I see that it's about time to get ready for work. For the first time, I'm excited.
I really, really hope that he comes back.
