Murphy by Bey Deckard

Author:Bey Deckard [Deckard, Bey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, scifi, bdsm, dom, mm, sub, space marines, shorty
Publisher: Bey Deckard
Published: 2015-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

The twelve of us are staring out the hell hole of the drop ship—nicknamed the Stomper because of its resemblance to some vehicle in a twentieth-century sci-fi movie—and all we can see below us is a rapidly approaching patch of dark, swampy-looking jungle. We’re coming down, balls to the fucking wall, about six hundred klicks inland to a spot that’s dry enough for a landing but not too far away from our target that we can’t make it on foot. It’ll take us three days, barring incident, but we’re equipped with MREs enough to feed us for five, should we need them.

The trees, big broccoli-looking things, are racing towards us. I’m used to fast drops, probably done about a hundred in my career, but the pucker factor’s pretty high, and some of the others look like they’re either going to shit their pants or lose their lunches. At least with our prophylactic gear, the stench of shit shouldn’t be a problem.

I take a look at Ollie. He’s wearing the same gear as the rest of us, except his helmet’s probably a good bit older than Murphy. I don’t like it. See, I know that’s his lucky helmet—we’ve served together a handful of times—and that’s got me worried about what he swore up and down and six ways from Sunday would be a low risk op. He sees me watching him and gives me a thumbs-up.

Yeah, I don’t like it one fucking bit.

I look over and see that Murph’s got his eyes closed. I find that weird and wonder if he’s afraid of heights. I don’t know him to be afraid of anything, but then again… How well do I know the man? I know every hard curve of his body, every battle scar, every beautiful, fucking needy sound that I can rip out of him. I know he can fieldstrip a weapon in less time than most. I know he can suck cock like he was born to do it. I know he reads a lot of pre-twenty-second-century books… But what else?

He’s been sleeping by my side for… oh, I’m guessing half a year or so, and I don’t even know what his goddamn favourite food is. I’ve never asked him. That makes me sad as hell all of a sudden—sadder than I have any goddamn time to feel. Murphy’s forehead wrinkles up, and he opens his eyes. He stares at me, the crystal blue of his irises bright, and it hits me then that the colours he sees, they get to him even through his lids. He sees every goddamn thing that squeezes this old ticker of mine… all the shit that I can’t make myself say.

Jesus fucking Christ, when did I get so fucking maudlin? I shake my head at Murphy and look away, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“Thirty seconds.” The Stomper pilot’s voice in my ear is so calm it almost sounds bored. Everyone lowers their face shields, snapping them in place. I feel

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