Jarheads 01 - Dont Ask Dont Tell by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael [Michael, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Rock parked his car in front of Rig's apartment, locked his

door and went back to the truck bed. If he shouldered his

pack first and hoisted the tree over his other shoulder, he

could probably handle the case of beer with one hand. He

could make it as far as Rig's place as long as he didn't

meet anyone in the stairwel .

Grunting, wishing he'd worn his gloves, he loaded up and

headed in. Luck was with him and he didn't run into anyone.

He kicked at Rig's door. “Come on, Rigger, open up."

"Coming. Coming!” The door opened, the smel of

chocolate, sugar and cinnamon rushing out at him.

Oh, now that smel was worth fighting Christmas shoppers

to buy Rig's big stupid mutt a big old bone, not to mention

the look the blue haired wrapping ladies had given him.

"Ho, ho ho.” He grinned, pretending the tree wasn't trying to

fucking chew through his jacket.

"Oh, wow. Wow. Come in. Come in. Oh, too fucking cool,

marine!” Rigger was bouncing, grey eyes dancing madly.

He grinned. Oh yeah, so fucking worth it. “Yeah? Al I got

was tinsel to decorate it."

"My folks sent a huge ass care package."

He was drawn into the apartment, the damned dog

decorated with a bow. He laughed, Grimmy barking at him.

"You got decorations in the huge ass care package?” He

real y hadn't wanted to mess with al the froufrou crap the

store'd had.

"Yep. A star, some bal s, some garland. Al sorts of shit."

"Cool.” He tossed the case on the couch, his pack on the

floor. “Where do you want the tree?"

"Uh. Set it by the balcony right now, ‘kay? Did it come with

a stand?"

"A what?” He set the tree down, grunting and straightening

it as it tried to fal over.

"One of those stand doolies? You know, to hold it up?” Rig

got down on hands and knees, right in front of him.

"Mmm ... looking good, Rig.” Stand doolie? Did he look like

Susie homemaker?

"Hold it stil ; I'l jerry-rig something.” It took a few minutes, some ass wriggling, an old metal bowl and an electric dril ,

but sure as shit, Rigger did something down there to make

the tree stand up.

He chuckled, sliding his hand over Rig's ass as Rig stood.

“Is there anything you can't jerry-rig together?"

"Nope. It's a gift."

"Speaking of gifts.” He turned Rig's face up to his, mouth

landing hard, tongue pushing deep.

Oh, now. That was just fine, Rig slamming up against him,

hips to shoulders. His hands landed on that sweet ass,

holding on tight, squeezing as his tongue fucked Rig's

mouth. Fuck, a whole ten-days of this might just make his

cock fal off. Rig leaned in, rubbing, stroking against him. Or

maybe not.

"Gonna unwrap you now,” he growled, fingers grabbing the

bottom of Rig's sweater.

"Mmm ... Ho ho ho.” Rig lifted his arms, helping out.

He laughed, getting the sweater and then the shirt off Rig.

That gave him access to those sweet little titties that he

knew would bud right up under his touch.

Rig shivered, stepped closer. “Man, the air's got a bite."

"Air's not the only thing with bite,” he noted, fingers reaching out, pinching.

"No?” Rig's lips parted, entire body going stiff with a harsh

moan.

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