Black Hawk Down fanfiction

Gary/Randy, NC-17

Summary: Gary gets his chance to confront Randy. Be careful what you wish for. Concludes from Selection.

~*~

It was springtime, warm and gorgeous, and Gary was head over heels in love. It was the most wonderful, exhilarating, freeing sensation in the whole wide world.

He was in love with Delta Force.

On this, the twenty-third day of his third month of being an FNG, a fucking new guy, he couldn’t remember ever being happier in his entire life.

He laid under a pine tree with his head propped on his backpack, which contained bottles of water, a couple of ripe oranges, and a few other random items he couldn’t do without.

To his left, his closest friend and fellow trainee, Samer, was blowing cigarette smoke in his direction, talking across Gary’s prone body to Sultan, one of the perimeter fence security guards.

Samer was trying to glean last minute information that might help with their scheme to scale the compound’s legendary security fence, and thereby make it into the record books. Unfortunately, Samer, whose primary languages were Arabic and French, didn’t seem to know how to be subtle in English.

Gary chuckled listening to his poor attempts to not raise Sultan’s suspicions. He took another sip from his water bottle, closed his eyes, and let out a contented sigh.

This had been the last day of the Shooting House portion of their OTC, their operational training course, the day in which they had used live ammo to execute a room assault while each of them had taken turns being the hostage. It had been harrowing, storming in and seeing your friend sitting in that chair, depending on you not to put a bullet in him while you took down the cut-out terrorist a hair’s breadth behind him.

And sitting in that chair himself, he had found confidence and trust in each of his fellow operator. Not to mention a whole new lease on life.

Gary felt a gentle but firm prodding into his side, and opened one eye. Sultan, who was neither Middle Eastern nor regal, was squinting down at him.

“If you girls try anything on that fence tonight I’ll shoot your asses right off it. Y’hear me?”

Samer had thrown his arm over his mouth and was chortling, watching Gary from over it with eyes full of mischief.

“Yeah,” Gary replied, squinting back in an effort to look serious.

Sultan left, and Gary returned to his shuteye. Suddenly the air was filled with the roar of UH-60 helicopters, Black Hawks. He and Samer watched with awe and anticipation as an assault troop of unit operators trotted on board and were air lifted to a training location.

He grinned over at Samer, whose eyes had glazed over. Those guys looked like the ass kickers they were, and one day very soon, that would be them.

He had never even dreamt that people like this existed in the Army. That instead of pinup girls on the troop bay walls there were newspaper clippings of current and political affairs, and global terrorist incidents.

That rather than concerning themselves with whether he fit into some nonsensical group mentality, Delta focused instead on whether he could cut it as an individual. They wanted him to be his own fully realized, fully functional, self reliant human being. And after being here just three months, he prided himself on understanding and accepting that.

Which was why he had been willing and able to let go of Randy.

His watch beeped. He propped himself on his elbow and checked it.

“Gotta go,” he said to Samer, and gathered his stuff up, picking up orange peels and empty juice bottles and shoving them in his backpack.

“Time for your weekly mind probe? Please just promise me that one day you’ll share some of the dope he gives you in there.”

Gary grinned, shook his head no, and went on his way.

Three months ago, if he’d been asked what he’d dread the most about being in Delta, he would have immediately said the shrink sessions. But since that first evaluation, the day after Randy’s stunt in the hotel room the night Stress Phase ended, he had actually come to look forward to his time in the psychologist’s office.

That first time he had barely paid attention, answering the questions on automatic, spitting mad and dreaming up revenge schemes. He had sat there fantasizing about how hard he would slam Randy up against a wall and strangle him. After the pins and needles Randy had kept him on during that whole month, the session had seemed dull and anticlimactic in comparison.

Which, if he looked back on it, was probably the reason the Commander’s Board had hit him so hard.

The board had comprised of four Majors, and the first thing one of them had growled had been, “What’s all this drive you got goin’ on? I heard tell you were insecure.”

While he had sat there blinking like he’d been slapped in the face, the next Major had slowly flipped through sheets and told him that the psychologist had evaluated him as brimming with focus, determination, patience and the ability to see tasks through to their end. But his fellow Selection candidates had assessed him as insecure, self-conscious and uncomfortable to be around. Please explain.

It was at that moment, while those hardened men had fastened him to his seat with eyes that missed nothing, that a deep and total panic had struck him out of the clear blue sky.

What the fuck was he doing there, sitting at the last stage of being accepted into the finest counterterrorism organization in the world. An organization that collected the most skilled, intelligent, bravest, toughest-minded men anywhere, that would require one-hundred-percent-and-then-some of his mind and body just to wake up in the morning.

For a few surreal moments he had sat there blankly, pondering just how ridiculous his life was, how the desperate pursuit of one man’s attention had landed him in this particular hot seat.

One side of his brain had shrieked that he was on the verge of a full blown panic attack, and that he ought to take cover. But a calmer, better side, had told him he was mostly afraid because everything that had been said about him was true.

So he had taken a deep breath, released it, and told them just that.

On and on it had gone, for four endless hours. Questions about military history, about Machiavelli’s The Prince, which they had been asked to read, but which he had already read and wrestled with when he was fifteen. Scenarios were presented to him, and his opinion sought on what he would have done differently, better, what would have made him fuck up.

He had answered each question honestly, having no idea if he was right or wrong, only for the first time he could remember, letting someone else see him from the inside out.

After it had ended he had sat in the lobby for over an hour, staring at his feet, realizing that for the first time in his life, he had paid attention.

Up until now he had only ever paid the minimum attention needed to get by. Army basic training, Ranger School, even fucking Selection.

But for those distressing four hours, he had been forced to look at himself. At the space inside his head he spent so much time avoiding. And he had been stunned at the things he’d discovered.

He had always known he was book smart because he had gotten straight As in high school. He had also known he could reason well, and that he was patient, and had an aptitude for problem solving.

But he had never thought about being brave, or resilient, or self sufficient. It had never occurred to him that spending so much time alone had given him the ability to think and act decisively based on his own internal judgment.

While especially that last realization sank in, he had sat there and wondered why, oh why, wasn’t he allowing himself to apply that good internal judgment where Randy was concerned.

His need to be with Randy was like a drug addiction. He had merely to think his name for his cock swell and his mind to start short circuiting. But rather than try to get a grip on his addiction, he encouraged himself to go right at it like a private in a whorehouse.

And he was indulging in this behavior even when it seemed Randy, for reasons Gary couldn’t even fathom, was only interested in playing games with him, as if he were a pet, and fucking with his mind.

But that afternoon in the lobby he had finally understood that Randy could only fuck with him as long as he let him.

Well, he ought not let him. He ought to back away, cut his losses, and let it go. And he needed to do it starting right then.

Walking back into the room where the board sat to hear them accept him into their fold had a been a bone fide seminal moment in his life. Even though he still reeled from a grueling mental self examination he hadn’t bargained for, he had walked out of that room a somewhat healed man.

And, as fate would have it, from then until now, Randy had been nowhere in sight.

So three months later, yeah, the shrink sessions were good. So good that Samer swore all he did was smoke marijuana and get mellow with the doctor. Well, they didn’t smoke, but he did talk. And he listened to himself when he talked, and learned.

While he never spoke about Randy, he learned that he could ease away from the intensity of his feelings. That while it seemed Randy’s love, respect, or even attention was something he wasn’t going to get, he had no right to hold that against Randy.

That it was masochistic not to let it go.

So that was exactly what he had done.

*****

The perimeter security guards, who were all Special Forces veterans from as far back as World War II, took it as a point of pride that no one had ever scaled the fence as a short cut alternative to going all the way around to the front entrance and getting properly checked in.

Operator after operator had disregarded their warnings and indeed come close to getting their asses shot off the fence. At first it had been a novelty, but over the years it had become fucking serious that none of their guys had made it past a group of retirees.

So it solidified into an unspoken challenge for the operators, and every year ballsy FNGs gave it a shot. Ballsy, or suffering in the throes of some serious dumb-attacks. Either way…

“On the count of three,” Gary whispered, as three nights later, he and Samer knelt in a crouch against the base of the fence. Samer had found out that Sultan’s route around the fence began by heading east, so they had positioned themselves on the west side of the guardhouse to be at the end of his route.

Gary counted and they hoisted themselves as fast and high up the fence as they could. It made a god-awful racket, and they snickered loudly in surprise.

“It’s because you weigh as much as an elephant,” Samer sputtered fiercely, gasping for breath. Then he slipped, and exclaimed, “Oh shit!” and Gary cursed and instinctively reached for him.

Then he was flailing in confusion as suddenly a vice-like grip locked on his sweatshirt and yanked him mercilessly off the fence. He fell in the most graceless manner of his entire life, landing on his ass, then splat on his back.

He laid in the dust hearing birds twittering in his head.

Then he realized there was a weight on his stomach.

“Keep him there, Randy,” he heard Sultan growl from somewhere above him.

Gary’s world banged to a halt. His eyes focused and zeroed in.

Randy was looking down at him, his eyes brimming with amusement.

Amusement, laced with pure, naked hunger.

He smiled slowly. “Hey, Gary.”

Gary’s mouth dropped and stuck unattractively open.

The first time Randy had sat on him his head had traveled somewhere else. But now he could feel Randy’s weight on every part of him in contact. He could especially feel Randy’s warm, firm ass nestled possessively on his stomach.

As soon as that registered, his stomach muscles clenched and his hands flew to Randy’s hips.

God help him but he was about to start bucking.

Randy swiftly moved off him but kept him pinned him down with one knee on his chest.

The movement broke Gary’s trance, and he could now hear Samer howling with laughter. He twisted his head and saw his friend bent over, one hand supporting himself on his knee, the other pointing at Gary. Stanley, one of their shooting instructors, stood to one side, grinning his face apart.

Sultan came over and poked his shotgun barrel into Gary’s shoulder. “Come on, y’asshole.”

Randy got off him and Sultan ushered him and Samer towards the guardhouse like prisoners, with Gary having to support Samer’s weight because he was laughing so hard.

“Thanks, guys,” Sultan called over his shoulder.

“Anytime, Sultan,” Stanley called back.

Gary turned and looked behind him.

Randy was looking back at him over his shoulder. He lifted his hand and gave him a short wave.

The small movement unstopped Gary’s heart like a pulled drain plug. Pure, undiluted rage swept in.

He turned to Sultan. “Salt, do you know that guy? The one who jumped me?”

“Yeah, I know him. And he didn’t jump ya. What d'you want with him?”

Gary spoke very clearly. “I owe him an ass kicking.”

They had reached the guardhouse. Sultan stopped and looked him up and down. “After finishing the OTC you might be able to take him out,” he said matter-of-factly. “But right now he would cripple you before you finished the thought.”

Gary ground his teeth. “They taught us some fucking scary stuff in Ranger School.”

Sultan’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Ranger School? Son, this ain’t the Rangers.”

Gary snorted breaths through his nose like a bull, ignoring the fact that Samer was staring at him in bewilderment.

“Aw, hell,” Sultan said, moving back out of the guardhouse as the sound of an approaching vehicle filled the air. “Don’t feel so bad. Randy and them guys, they all tried to scale the fence and didn’t make it, so they sure as hell aren’t about to watch a bunch of newbies steal that honor.”

“But do you know where he lives, Salt?” Gary said slowly. “I need to find him.”

“Well,” Sultan replied, pointing in the direction of the vehicle coming their way. “Look no further.”

Gary spun on his heels as a black Jeep pulled up so close to the guardhouse he had to step backwards onto its stoop to get out of its way.

The passenger side window whirred down, and Randy leaned forward with his arm across the back of the passenger seat.

“Get in,” he said, his eyes pinning on Gary, and sat back in his seat. The window whirred back up.

Gary saw red. But for one fraction of a second, his mind tried to impose reason on him.

It reminded him that he had made all kinds of progress, made all kinds of pacts with himself and his emotions.

Gary blinked, unable to remember a single pact, or feel a single step of any progress at the moment.

And as Gary stared at the darkened silhouette of his nemesis in the Jeep’s cab, his mind tried reminding him that the one ironclad rule of Delta’s brotherhood, to which there were no exceptions, was that no Delta operator shall ever lay hand on another operator in anger.

Well, fuck that.

He yanked open the passenger door and barged in, spreading himself so that his body filled up his entire half of the cab.

Randy leaned forward, waved to Sultan, and took off.

After a few moments of silence, except for the racing engine, Randy asked, “Have you eaten dinner?” as if they were on a date.

Gary’s hands actually shook. He clenched his jaw and squeezed on the door’s inside handle, counting, counting, counting. But he was only getting madder by the count.

He had lied to himself where this man was concerned.

None of the bullshit he had spouted to the psychologist mattered. All he cared about, all he needed, was hard, hot revenge for all the fucked up things this guy had sadistically made him go through.

Then, and only then, would he be utterly, completely, well and truly cured of his fixation, obsession, addiction, whatever the fuck it was.

He turned on Randy and said as calmly as he knew. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Randy’s eyebrow lifted, but he gave no other reaction.

“But,” Gary continued, not giving a shit that his voice was trembling. “Since I can’t do it in the car without risking crashing and dying, I’m going to wait until we get to where ever the fuck we’re going. Which means,” he added quickly and emphatically when it looked like Randy was about to speak. “I don’t want to say another fucking word, and you shouldn’t say another word, either. And I fucking mean it, Randy.”

Randy remained silent, and as Gary watched from the corner of his eyes he drove calmly, as if he was the only one in the car. Gary made himself look away, but only after noticing that his eyelashes were beautifully long and curled and that they swept down like mini feather dusters each time he blinked.

Gary’s rough breathing was the only audible thing in the car.

Once the car stopped Gary turned to him. “What’s your apartment number?”

“Five-twelve. Fifth floor.”

“Give me the keys. I’ll meet you up there.”

He snatched the keys Randy dangled, hearing him calling out quietly that the gold one opened the main doors, and took the stairs three at a time. He opened the apartment door, stepped into the dark room, and slammed it behind him. He paced.

Then he realized he had the keys, and stood for an indecisive moment wondering how Randy would get in. He waited for a buzzer to sound, but after a minute or so the front door lock clicked. Of course Randy had spare keys. God forbid anything ever catch him off guard.

Gary stepped backwards from the door and tossed the keys he was still holding to the floor. As the door opened, he started for it. Then he stopped himself in time on seeing that Randy had grocery bags in his arms.

Randy looked him up and down in passing, walking around him towards the kitchen. Gary stormed right on his heels.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” Gary spat.

“And you’re a spoiled child.”

That stopped Gary in his tracks.

Randy opened the fridge, placed both bags on a shelf and gently closed the door.

Gary’s body was tightening, ready to slam Randy into the fridge. But Randy wasn’t even looking in his direction. So despite his shaking rage, Gary faltered. He pressed backwards against the opposite counter.

“How the fuck am I a spoiled child?!” he roared, gripping the counter behind him for any kind of support. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me!”

Randy leaned back against the fridge, crossed his arms, and looked at Gary. “Oh, I don’t?”

He sounded completely sure, and it stumped Gary. He stared at him in confusion.

“I didn’t go to your Ranger training course for you, Gary,” Randy sighed. “You know why? I’m sure you do. Because nothing you had done up until then in your painfully mediocre army career warranted any special attention.”

Gary felt a very hot flush burst in his chest. He was going to rip this guy apart.

“It was only after watching you perform like a one-man natural phenomenon that I went through all your records and requested you for Selection.”

Randy’s eyes fastened on his, and Gary couldn’t even blink.

“You’re smarter than the average guy, and then some. You’ve naturally got abilities Special Forces spends millions teaching other guys. But you’ve spent the entire time with your head down, thinking you were getting your way. Well, you got nothing at all, except an empty head.”

“Who the fuck do you think—!”

“You came to Delta,” Randy stressed each word softly, even though the pitch of his voice never altered, “only because you wanted to fuck me.”

Gary choked on his spit.

“Well, if you want to fuck me, you’re going to have to fuck Delta. And if you want to fuck Delta, you sure as hell gotta earn it. And there’s only one way to earn it. The hard way.” He paused and Gary watched his jaw move ever so slightly. “And you’re pissed because I made you do it the hard way for once in your life.”

Gary sputtered. “How the fuck would you—!”

“Gary,” Randy said quietly. Gary stopped sputtering. “I’m done talking.”

It took a long time and a huge amount of effort, but Gary was finally able to collect enough air and roared, “Well, I’m fucking not!”

Randy didn’t move a muscle. His eyes slid from Gary’s eyes to his panting mouth, to his heaving chest, then farther down to the massive bulge that had shamelessly formed in his sweatpants.

Randy’s eyes darkened. He said hoarsely, “Yeah, you are.”

The next thing Gary knew, he had moved and had Randy pressed up against the fridge.

Before he could think about what he had done, Randy crooned into his neck and pushed his arms under Gary’s sweatshirt. Then he slid them down, shoving the elastic off Gary’s ass. He dug his hands, fingers, palms and all, into his ass, tilting his hips and pulling Gary against him, hard.

Gary’s knees buckled. “I’m gonna come,” he groaned suddenly, and felt completely pathetic.

Randy pushed them both off the fridge. “Just take deep breaths and follow me,” he whispered, and took Gary’s hand.

Randy led him straight to his bed, where Gary promptly fell on top of him. He struggled up and planted both hands on either side of Randy’s head, and Randy grabbed his face.

The reality of being pressed against Randy, the feel of Randy’s hands on his face alone, was frying his brain. He dropped his head and pushed his tongue as deep as it would go into Randy’s mouth. Randy’s tongue swirled around his and it made him gasp and withdraw his. Randy came after it, his hands leaving Gary’s face and going for his ass. Gary felt his cock pull and squeeze out a big fat drop of semen.

He was going to come.

He pulled back and pushed on Randy’s shoulder until Randy understood. Randy lifted his hips, popped the button to his jeans, and turned onto his stomach. Gary yanked and yanked until the jeans came off, briefs, boots and all.

Randy’s arm extended to the side, and after a few tries Gary realized he was stabbing at the bedside drawer. He stared at it, gasping in hot confusion before becoming coordinated enough to reach over and open it.

There was a small bottle of baby oil in it, and after a few more seconds he realized he was supposed to rub it on himself.

He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt, shoved his pants and briefs to his knees, kicked them off his feet. He poured and smeared, then experienced a moment of intense panic as he remembered he had only ever done this one other time in his life and didn’t have any real clue as to what he was doing.

But he was goddamned Delta now, wasn’t he?

He climbed on top of Randy and pressed his oiled fingers against his entrance. Randy immediately pushed back against his fingers and they popped inside. They both groaned loudly. Gary felt another hard pull on his cock and knew it was either fingerfuck Randy and come like that, or get a move on.

He withdrew his fingers quickly, hearing Randy gasp, and gripped his cock. He pressed against Randy’s entrance and Randy immediately pushed back against him like the first time had only been a rehearsal. Gary moaned desperately as his cock slipped in, and silently cried, I love you, I love you, I love you!

He bent over and pressed his forehead to Randy’s temple, gasping as Randy stretched under him.

“Fuck me hard,” Randy whispered, twisting, slowly. “Come on, baby, get it in there, ride me hard. Please, please.”

Oh Jesus, is he begging?!

A groan tore out of him and for precious moments he did nothing but twist mindlessly on top of Randy.

“Ohhh fuuuck,” Randy groaned into the sheets.

Gary choked, gasped, knowing suddenly what to say to Randy. He was going to let him know that he was six foot three, weighed two hundred and ten pounds and was going to fuck him harder than anyone ever had ever fucked him in his life. That he was going to get in there and ride his cock right up his ass until he didn't know from wrecked.

But when he opened his mouth Randy began pulling the sheets from the mattress, bunching it around his head, gasping deeper and deeper until he was only growling in his throat, his elbows pulled tight against his sides, his mouth open wide, his eyes squeezed shut, his face drenched in sweat.

If he tried to speak while watching Randy’s beautiful demise, Gary could kiss his tiny effort of control goodbye. But he wanted to teach this guy a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

He heaved his thigh and spread Randy wider, moaning at the way it slid easily because they were both covered in sweat. He clamped his mouth over Randy’s cheekbone and sucked.

Randy thrashed under him.

The heat was going to explode inside him so much sooner than he wanted. He made a valiant effort to hold it off by gripping Randy’s fists tightly and puffing through his mouth. But the more he tried to slow down and get some control over his body, the more he trembled, the hotter it was, and the harder he thrust.

He opened his mouth over Randy’s ear, gasping for a chance to at least curse at him.

Randy cried out and rubbed his ear against Gary’s mouth as if the feel of it was sending him into a tailspin. Gary slid his tongue inside, and Randy’s fingers immediately tangle around his and squeezed.

Gary made a frantic sound and gripped him back and before he could try to speak again, Randy started twisting again, begging again, this time begging for Gary to come inside him.

Gary completely lost it and sank his teeth into his scalp. Randy shuddered and his voice abruptly cut off.

Then and only then could Gary get the words out. He quickly untangled his hand, reached under Randy, locked his fist around his rigid cock and yelled, “I’m gonna fucking make you scream, you stuck-up son of a bitch!”

Randy arched off the bed and screamed into the sheets.

Gary quickly leveraged his knee around his hip and drove him flat into the bed, gripping Randy’s jerking cock. He swore as he thrust into the clutching heat, his climax hitting and squeezing pleasure out of him in hard spasms. He slammed through it, riding on the unbelievably satisfactory sound of the headboard banging against the wall while Randy could do nothing but scream the house down.

He must have blacked out and slipped into a dead faint. When he woke up Randy was no longer under him.

But he was almost fully hard again.

He needed to do that again. Right now.

He lifted his head and felt movement on the bed. Randy laid against his back and Gary immediately turned and pinned him into the bed.

He gripped Randy by his hip, holding him down. He lifted his body, reached between them, and adjusted his cock so that it pressed against Randy’s. Then he settled on top of him and began to thrust. Randy’s arms went around his back and pulled him tight.

“It’s okay,” Randy whispered. “We’ve got all night.”

Gary slid his other arm under and around Randy’s shoulders, pulling him tight, then lowered his head and pressed his open mouth over his. He swallowed Randy’s groans while he ground sweat and oil and come into Randy’s crotch.

In less than a minute he broke their kiss. “Randy,” he whispered breathlessly. “I’m gonna come all over your cock.”

Randy wrapped his legs around his hips and Gary thrust until he exploded with no self control whatsoever.

He collapsed on top of Randy.

After about a minute he started groaning again because despite being on the verge of physical breakdown, he wanted to do it all over again.

It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a tugging sensation he couldn’t make stop.

“Randy,” he croaked, not knowing how to explain himself.

Randy turned so that Gary was under him, and sank his hand into Gary’s wet hair. “Close your eyes,” he said softly.

After a nervous moment, Gary closed his eyes. He started slightly when he felt the tip of Randy’s tongue lick his mouth. His mouth instinctively opened, but Randy kept licking his lips until Gary was nearly hyperventilating. He finally slid his tongue into his mouth and kissed him gently, calmly.

Gary felt tension seep out of him as if he was being deflated.

“It’s no different than being in the Shooting House,” Randy said. “You execute the assault with violence of action, then you let the adrenaline flow out of you.”

Gary slowly opened his eyes. “But I’m gonna come,” he whispered languidly.

For the first time since he had known him, Randy gave him a smile that was nothing but a pure smile. “You can’t. There’s nothing left in you.”

His smile faded and he stared down at Gary with dark serious eyes, running his fingers over the bristling stubble on Gary’s jaw. “Damn you’re hot,” he breathed.

Gary felt his tongue start to loll out, and licked his lips instead.

Randy watched him do it, then turned and climbed out of the bed, reaching for his jeans as he did so. “Try and get some sleep,” he said over his shoulder.

Gary turned onto his side, thankful for the blissful drowsiness easing into his mind and body.

The sheets slid with him, and his eyes landed on a dark green material near his knee. He pulled at it and unearthed a pair of dark green briefs.

Army regulation underwear?

He stared at them. They weren’t his. He hadn’t worn army issue since he got into Delta. He tilted his head. They had to be Randy’s, and in his psychotic haste to get Randy’s jeans off he hadn’t noticed them. Why would Randy still wear Army briefs?

Before he was conscious of what he was doing he turned onto back, lifted his legs into the air, and pulled them on.

They were tight.

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed slowly through his mouth until the heat passed. Then he stuck out his tongue and panted in self mockery, because damn if he didn’t feel like a dog in heat.

When he opened his eyes again, Randy was standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at him.

He looked back for a moment but couldn’t read Randy’s expression, so he lowered his gaze, trying to ignore the flush taking over his face.

He realized he didn’t understand Randy at all.

Not only could he not read him, he couldn’t even guess at what was going on in his mind. Not now, not before. For instance why had he made him suffer like that during Selection, when he could have just told him what the deal was.

But, he was in love with him. All his raging and anguishing only proved that, his frustration resulting from having to stumble around painfully in the dark.

But Randy wasn’t going to give him any handouts. He’d said so himself. Therefore, Gary was going to have to hold his own. Something he would never accomplish unless he made himself start somewhere.

So he looked back up and carefully took in every inch of Randy’s face, trying to see something in there. Randy was still staring right at him, with a slight furrow in his brow and a slight purse to his lips… and Gary still had no fucking idea what that meant.

After a few moments, Randy said, “What am I going to wear?”

It took a moment for Randy’s mild words to sink in, and when they did Gary’s heart bumped with delight.

Randy was teasing him.

Gary gave no indication of his giddy state. He casually turned on his side and pulled a pillow over his face and said, “Get a new pair, my love.”

He held his breath, proud of the fact that he had sounded normal when he’d used the endearment. There was absolute silence from the doorway, then he heard a small sigh.

“I’m about to make dinner,” Randy said. “You never did say whether you’d eaten already. Do you mind rotisserie chicken with roast potatoes?”

Gary stilled. He had no idea how Randy knew, but he realized Randy did know that rotisserie chicken was one of his favorite dishes.

He said nothing in reply, as there was really nothing to say. It was love, and it was fucking madness.

He took a deep breath under the pillow and, despite his thudding heart, concentrated on falling asleep for an hour or so before dinner.

~*~