Black Hawk Down fanfiction

Gary/Randy, NC-17

Summary: In an institution where you weren’t supposed to ask, and certainly never tell, they had needed to do neither.

~*~

“Fuck, I’m bored.”

Randy didn’t say anything.

Gary hung his tongue out and panted at him. Randy lifted his eyes and looked up at him. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth before he looked back down and continued cleaning his rifle.

Seconds passed. Then Gary sighed and said, “Fuck if I’m not bored.”

Randy kept on wiping down his custom weapon. Gary placed his plastic water bottle on the table and leaned forward.

“You know, we could finish our game.”

Randy didn’t even acknowledge the chess board sitting neglected on the table between them. The pieces sat frozen in the spot they’d been in the day before.

“Conditions are not ideal,” Randy replied calmly.

Gary sat back in his metal chair and sighed. He turned his head and looked down the cramped, messy, loud, cavernous hangar. He sighed again. Fucking Rangers never shut the hell up. And Randy only liked to play in relative quiet.

“Fucking kids,” he snarled out loud.

“Kids? You might just want to get over yourself, cowboy.”

Gary groaned silently and turned to find Captain Steele standing to his right. He glared at Randy for not letting him know the Captain was approaching, but it was a mistake to do that because Randy was staring at the Captain as he always did, with a kind of morbid fascination.

Gary felt his mouth twitch hard, and clamped his lips together to stop from barking out laughter.

“Sir,” Randy said evenly, “they are kids.”

The Captain narrowed his eyes at him. “You know of any kids,” he clipped, stressing every word, “who have dropped twenty to forty pounds battling fatigue, hunger, killer body aches, hallucinations, to become disciplined, first-class fighting machines?”

Gary dropped his head and scrunched up his face to stop from howling.

“Well,” Randy said slowly. “No, sir.”

“My ten year old nephew is a kid,” the Captain snipped, obviously using his trump card. Except it sounded to Gary like he had said his tin year old nephew.

Gary shot a pleading look at Randy who was about to get into it with him, when chaos suddenly broke loose near the front entrance of the hangar.

Captain Steele spun on his heel in the direction of the noise, but before any of them could snap into action, a blur of motion broke out in front of them and when they blinked, Captain Steele was no longer standing there.

Gary turned to stare open mouthed at Randy, who had stood up and was peering down toward the entrance of the hangar. Gary stood up and looked as well, and saw a dozen Rangers crowded around the area, tussling with a group of guys.

Gary slowly walked to the entrance with Randy somewhere at his elbow, following the crowd that was gathering around the commotion.

From what he could see, screaming Rangers were ambushing their commanding officers, Captain Steele being one of them, as well as some Delta officers, trying to wrestle them to the ground and drag them onto stretchers. Some officers had already been successfully strapped down, and as Gary got closer he could see flex cuffs and duct tape all over the bound men.

Captain Steele had shaken lose from his attacker and was barreling outside the hangar doors with a couple more Rangers in hot pursuit. One of their own Delta guys, Lieutenant Colonel Harrell, was right outside the doors, slamming one Ranger after another onto the tarmac.

The din was incredible, echoing off the walls of the interior space. He and Randy stood at the entrance and watched as Harrell took down Dom Pilla, then Todd Blackburn, then Dale Sizemore, then three more Rangers. Finally five of them rushed him at once, and were able to bring him down.

“Pussies,” someone said to Gary’s left.

Gary leaned back, looked past Randy and saw Hoot Gibson chewing on a chunk of roasted meat, squinting and shaking his head at the melee.

“Yeah,” Gary agreed, turning back to look at the embarrassing scene. “Rangers lead the fucking way.”

The Rangers were now hauling out drums full of water to dump on the strapped down officers.

Randy dropped his arms, which he’d crossed over his chest, and turned to him with a stone face, which Gary knew Randy considered his “patient look.”

“What,” Gary said. “You don’t want to watch?”

“Is my face showing any interest?”

They went back inside.

“That valiant effort reminded me very much of how your pawns struggle to take down my Queen,” Randy said.

“Don’t dis my fucking pawns.”

The hangar was practically deserted now, and he watched Randy look around with appreciation.

“Ideal conditions?” Gary grinned at him.

Randy slid his eyes over to him, smiled slowly, and looked away again. “We’ll see.”

Gary spun his metal chair backwards and straddled it, and Randy took up his customary position standing over the table with one foot on the bench lining the wall instead of sitting on it. Gary didn’t know if Randy did it intentionally to intimidate him, and he wasn’t intimidated, but he found it very hard to concentrate.

“Gary,” Randy said somewhat sharply, and Gary blinked, and then realized he had been trying to stare around Randy’s knee at his crotch. “It’s your move.”

Gary reached his hand over the board, knowing exactly what his move was going to be.

“But please be advised that I can mate you in four moves, whatever your decision might be.”

Gary made his move without missing a beat. He knew he was fucked, but he was fucked worse if he showed Randy his trepidation.

He grabbed his bottle of water and took a swig, then stopped in mid swallow as Randy’s knee slowly began spreading wide. Gary blinked a couple of times and carefully swallowed his mouthful of water.

“You’re a fine soldier,” Randy was saying, “but you really are a terrible chess player.”

“I am not.” He wanted to look down at the board and map out those moves he had left, but he couldn’t make himself look away from Randy’s swaying knee. Gary chewed on his lip.

“Sadly,” Randy said, not even trying to hide his amusement at Gary’s predicament, “the quiet in here seems to have done nothing to improve your game concentration.”

Randy dropped his leg from the bench and sat down with his head and back against the wall. He stretched his legs under the table and stared at Gary from under half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t make me come over there and handle you,” Gary growled, and tossed his empty plastic bottle at the wall to the right of Randy’s head. Randy didn’t move a muscle.

“So I have to ask?” he said quietly.

Gary swore softly and turned to look down the hangar. He looked in both directions, but aside from one or two randomly sleeping guys, everyone was still outside watching the ruckus.

He looked at Randy. Randy was staring at him as if he was reading Gary’s thoughts on a printed page. Which he pretty much was.

Gary stood up and walked around the table.

From the moment he had laid eyes on this man a long time ago in Ranger School, he was all Gary had ever wanted. Randy had looked back at him, and Gary’s heart had skipped a beat. In an institution where you weren’t supposed to ask, and certainly never tell, they had needed to do neither.

It had been from that first moment that they’d both known that they always, every time, wanted the same thing.

Randy shifted slightly along the bench, and Gary sat down against the wall adjacent to him. This kept Randy to his front and left, and to anyone passing by, it looked like they were just sitting next to each other, staring at a chess board. Which was something they did a lot.

Randy pulled out his sidearm and placed it on the table in front of Gary, then dumped ammo around so it looked as though Gary was about to take it apart and clean it.

“You know,” Gary smiled, sliding his left arm under the table and onto Randy’s lap. He could actually feel heat from Randy’s erection. “Pilla once asked me why you and I play Russian roulette over chess games.”

The corner of Randy’s mouth quirked. “He is by far the smartest Ranger.”

Randy’s hand moved and covered his crotch. He squeezed, and Gary felt his eyelids flutter as he struggled to keep them from shutting. Fuck, he hated it when that happened. He was like a fucking girl.

“You should keep your eyes open, Gary,” Randy was saying in a calm, bemused voice. “That’s how a solider sees what’s going on around him at all times.”

Gary caught the tag of Randy’s zipper between his index and forefinger, feeling the stiff ridge of his cock against the back of his fingers. He slowly pulled down. He watched Randy’s jaw clench, and squinted in satisfaction. “And you should watch for reciprocal enemy fire at all times.”

He slid his hand inside the open crotch space and spread it as wide as he could over Randy’s cock. It was leaking against his little finger.

“I think you’ve been hit,” Gary whispered, and slowly twisted his hand into Randy’s regulation underwear. “Wet spot.”

Randy inhaled a deep shaky breath, unzipped Gary’s fatigues, gripped his cock tightly, and locked eyes with him. Gary licked his dry lips and tried not to come right then. He was fine as long as Randy didn’t come. And Randy wouldn’t come unless he saw that Gary was caving in first.

They started stroking.

Gary clamped his teeth down on his lower lip and kept the pressure on, slackening his grip to run his palm all over Randy’s wet cock before closing his fist around it again. Randy’s mouth opened wider and wider as he took deeper breaths. His hand reciprocated Gary’s moves. His eyes dropped to Gary’s mouth and he licked his own lips.

Gary knew what Randy wanted. To kiss his mouth. Because it was what he wanted.

Gary inched forward, then stopped himself. In their Delta secluded area blankets were strung up everywhere, with three blankets pinned on ropes forming a half wall immediately around them. And at the moment the Deltas all were outside. But still, Gary made himself stop.

His lower lip slid from between his teeth, and his mouth dropped open. “Goddamit, Randy,” he panted quietly.

Randy quickly leaned forward and ran his moist tongue completely over Gary’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Gary panted, “I needed that.”

“Get ready,” Randy warned softly, and pushed his hand farther into Gary’s fatigues, all the way up past his wrist. Gary began spurting in his hand.

His breaths choked out, but he kept his eyes open and watched Randy. Randy was gasping softly, letting himself go. Gary groaned as he felt the first hard spasms of Randy’s cock in his grip. He let his eyes finally drift closed, and lived in every second of Randy’s climax.

When he opened his eyes again he was breathing more slowly, and Randy was withdrawing his hand. He covered Randy’s hand with his free one, squeezed, and held. Randy left his hand where it was for a few more seconds before gently tugging. Gary released his hand, then pulled out his own.

Randy tossed him one of the rags he had been using to wipe down his rifle and when Gary looked up to thank him, Randy was smiling at him. He sighed and smiled back, then got up and went back around to his own chair. With almost everyone still out of the hangar, they were able to reset the board in relative peace and quiet.

~*~