After the End Ch. 02

When I began a steady rhythm of stroking and sucking, Julian somehow got even harder, barely fitting into my mouth anymore. Feeling an unexpected rush of power at my own ability to do this to his cock, I worked to send him over the edge.

"I'm going to come," he gasped before long, muscles gathering.

I didn't stop. Although I wasn't sure about having a man's cream in my mouth, I was willing to try it.

A moment later, Julian cried out, then semen burst against my tongue. It was a strange sensation, but not too unpleasant. I swallowed, keeping my mouth around him until he was finished, the way I liked. Then I took a swig from my canteen to rinse him down.

He shifted to his side and pulled me into his arms, curving languidly around my back. The only problem was, we were both still naked, and pleasuring him had roused me again. My cock was already half erect, and each rise and fall of his broad chest behind me seemed to keep pumping it fuller.

When Julian pressed his lips to the back of my neck, I gasped without meaning to. At that, he sought out my nipple for a soft stroke with his thumb, surprising some kind of high-pitched whine out of me.

I felt him smile against my head. "Insatiable, are we?"

"I can't help it," I muttered, embarrassed. "Just ignore me."

"Why would I want to do that?" More strokes across my quickly-hardening nipple.

"You already made me come," I protested feebly. Despite that, I wanted another orgasm. Badly.

"What are you, twenty-two? Don't try to tell me one's your limit."

"I'm twenty-three." As if that mattered. "Don't you...need sleep?"

The pad of his finger traced expertly around the raised edges of my nipple, pulling another involuntary whimper from me.

"I'd rather listen to you make sounds like that," Julian told me in a sultry-low tone. Fuck, he was hot when he provoked me deliberately.

Still cradling me from behind, he touched me softly, erotically, anywhere he wanted. I gave him plenty of sounds, and no resistance. With one orgasm already achieved that night, the slower stimulation was heavenly. He caressed my neck and collarbone, ran fingernails across my pecs until my nipples were begging for attention, then finally began brushing over them again. Even places I didn't think were sensitive turned out to be with the right kind of attention. Just his fingertips tracing gently up and down from my elbow to shoulder was incredibly arousing.

He eventually worked his way down to fondle my balls while lightly jacking my cock -- not letting the pressure build, just keeping me rigid. His fingers reached behind my sack to rub what I now knew was the outside of my prostate, but he didn't go any further. It made me crave his touch inside, and I moaned and angled my hips forward, hoping he would take the hint.

"Need something, babe?" Julian taunted next to my ear.

"Yes...please..."

"Ask me, and you can have it."

I writhed in frustrated embarrassment while he rubbed my perineum mercilessly. "Will you...finger me?" I finally mumbled.

"Anytime." His sensual promise sent a thrill down my spine. He reached between us to press a lubricated finger through my tight hole and up into my ass. Something about being anally penetrated while held against his chest this way did something very exciting to my cock. I recognized the same high I'd gotten our first night together: the potent combination of security and exposure that amplified both.

He could just graze my prostate from this angle. The probing inside plus targeted work on my nipples catapulted me to a dizzying height of bliss. I badly needed release, yet the need itself was a special kind of pleasure.

Finally, Julian applied some real pressure to my cock. When I came, I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming. He had used nothing but his hands, yet it was one of the best orgasms of my life.

When the spasms stopped, I lay like a rag doll in his arms, completely drained.

"That better?" he asked. He almost sounded fond, unlikely as that seemed from our stone-cold commander.

"That was ridiculous," I muttered. After a minute, I groaned and rolled face down. "But you're making it worse! How am I supposed to live knowing you can do that to me, when I can't have it?"

Julian actually laughed. "Patience is a virtue, I hear." He cleaned his fingers and put his briefs back on, then sat next to me. "That's not all I can do to you, either," he teased.

"No," I moaned into the bedroll, only half joking. "Don't give me any more ideas. This week was bad enough."

He squeezed my shoulder. "What do you want me to do? I was going to leave you alone tonight. You're the one who jumped me."

"It's not my fault," I complained, locating my briefs and pulling them on. "You realize you're like a sex god, right?"

"I don't know about that. I think it's just our chemistry."

I filled my lungs and exhaled slowly, trying to contain my dread of another long, lonely week without Julian. Morning was coming far too quickly.

"Tell me what I can do," he said gently, getting under the blanket with me.

In the aftermath of our physical connection, I was feeling a little braver, but I kept my voice low. "I think I need to hear whether you're just interested in me for sex, or if it's more."

Julian didn't answer right away, and I braced for the worst. "Don't lie to me," I demanded preemptively.

"It's not just sex. Haven't I shown you that?" He paused while my pulse tripped over his words. "Like I told you earlier, I'm not very good at this. But I do care for you, Avery."

We were quiet for a moment. I still couldn't fathom why it would be true, but it didn't feel like a lie. Here, alone with him in the dark, sharing a bed, I could almost believe it. Back out in the world, with space and other people and our glaring status difference between us, I knew it would be a different story.

"I don't like being away from you," I confessed in a whisper.

He stroked my arm in that reassuring way he had. "I don't either."

I didn't trust myself to say anything else, so I just listened to Julian breathe next to me.

"Go to sleep, Avery. I'll still be here," he told me after a while, just like last time.

"You promise?" Not like he could go anywhere, but I still wanted to hear it.

"I promise."

* * * * *

Julian:

Day followed night followed day as we trekked through the prairies and woodlands of northern Louisiana. I had no direct knowledge of this part of the country, but it had been wisely chosen by the ancestors of my companions. Warm and mild through most of the year, the moderate rainfall and network of streams kept it well irrigated. This region was distant enough from the coast to be out of direct range for most hurricanes, elevated enough to avoid the worst kind of flooding, and not so hilly as to make travel impractical. The land served equally well for hunting, foraging, raising crops, and grazing livestock. In this human-engineered return to primordial scarcity, diversity of food sources was the best protection against starvation.

The other leaders had shared what history they knew upon my arrival to Sabine Ridge. Three generations ago, as the public and private sectors broke down into chaos across the world, their founders had formed a paramilitary cooperative in a place called Acadiana, drawing up terms for mutual support and protection. Like communities from earlier eras, they held some property in common, with a structured division of labor and punitive provisions for members who failed to uphold the best interests of the group. This particular group shared religious beliefs, although actual ecclesiastical practice has lapsed. They deliberately isolated from other settlements in order to raise children who would sustain what they had created. Many of their cultural values would be considered archaic in other societies. They have that in common with the military.

In the absence of any other functional governing body, judiciary, education system, or commercial food supply, the founders at Acadiana formed their own. To keep their substitute institutions operational, armed force was required to protect their land and homes. Some of the original members had served in the military, and the influence of their experience can still be detected. All in all, I considered it impressive work, maintaining this community for nearly one hundred years. Their flexibility in adapting to changing conditions, as evidenced by the mission I was currently leading, surely contributed to their success as much as anything else.

After the second night I spent with Avery, I took him on as a sort of apprentice commander. It was a project I would have started a couple of months ago, if I hadn't worried that Avery would be uncomfortable if he discovered my personal interest in him. From a purely professional standpoint, his suitability for in-depth command training was incontestable. By the time I joined the Sabine Ridge community, he'd already taken on, and excelled at, responsibilities that were well beyond his level of experience. He was more intelligent than he realized, had a strong natural aptitude for leadership, and was quick to pick up new skills. He'd have flourished with the kind of education I received.

Now, not only could I invest freely in him as a mentor and teacher, but it allowed us to spend more time together without drawing suspicion from the others. Hopefully, that would keep Avery from worrying I'd forgotten about him.

Although we still didn't get any time alone, and chance didn't assign us any more nights together, he seemed to appreciate my efforts. He avoided my gaze more often than I would wish, but judging by the sidelong glances I occasionally caught from him, he was still thinking about me at night, at least. I sometimes had to smother a smile, remembering his urgent need for my touch. I missed him too, of course, but I was long accustomed to a disciplined military life. Avery's hot blood was still untamed.

Five more days had passed when our senior scout returned late to camp with dangerous news.

"Delta," he called to me, using the only name I'd given publicly since leaving my military past behind. "Two scouts haven't reported in since this morning. We checked a few miles in the direction they were to cover and found nothing."

Night had already fallen. Everyone who wasn't already on watch gathered around our cook fire, many glancing toward the deep shadows under the trees surrounding us, as if their eyes could penetrate to the unknown threat.

"We should go look for them," Sawyer said to the group. She was about Avery's age, fierce and fearless, always ready for a fight. "They could be hurt and stranded somewhere; they'd be an easy target for outlaws."

"No, we can't risk it tonight," Avery countered. "Likely as not, we'd miss them in the dark, and calling for them would attract the wrong kind of attention. Besides, if they were attacked, we'd miss any signs of that too. In daylight, we might be able to tell where they went. Or find their bodies."

Avery's eyes cut to me, and I nodded. I would have said the same thing.

"We'll leave as soon as it's light," I ordered. "Post double watch. I'll take first."

We had found no signs of the missing scouts the next day when we reached the remnants of a small town. We halted before getting close enough to be seen, and I studied the vine-covered structures through my rifle scope.

"It's Red River Crew," Avery said, squinting through his own scope. "Look, that large brick building to the west."

I found the red snake symbol he indicated on the corner of the building. We'd encountered Red River Crew before; they controlled a large portion of the trade in this area, and they were known for their use of forced labor. Or, using the more accurate term, slave labor.

"Fuck," Sawyer swore. "They probably have double our firepower. If they took our people, it's going to be a tough battle."

"It's not going to be a battle," Avery replied in a hard voice. "We're not losing anyone else to them."

A few months ago, Red River Crew had ventured near Sabine Ridge, seeking new workers. They'd captured one of Avery's friends, and though we'd tracked them down and won the fight, they'd slit their would-be slave's throat out of spite before we could reach her.

"Spread out, do some recon, and meet back here at sundown to discuss options," I instructed.

The town appeared to be a trading post, from which goods and captives were distributed to various labor camps. We actually observed fewer guards than we expected, though of course we couldn't see any who stayed inside. The primary danger was our scouts being shipped off to another location before we could recover them, which meant we had to act relatively quickly.

"We'll have a much better chance with a rescue than an attack," Avery proposed when we reconvened late that afternoon. "Their defenses are set up to counter violence, not stealth. I can sneak in once it's dark and find out if they're even here. They traffic so many people in and out, there's no way they can recognize everyone at any given time. If I'm caught, I'll pretend I'm a buyer."

For an instant, I wished it didn't have to be Avery walking alone into a hostile camp, but I let the thought pass. He knew how to handle himself in situations like this. I would go myself, but a commander was of little use to his unit once captured.

Avery waited for my acknowledgement of the plan, and I couldn't argue with his assessment or his conclusion, so I nodded. "If you're not back by an hour before first light, we'll have to assume you've been captured as well. If we have to send an attack force, we'll need the cover of night."

He nodded back, fully composed. Despite my wish that he not be in danger, I couldn't help being proud of his courage, and his loyalty. He never considered his own safety worth worrying about, if he could be of assistance to someone else.

When it was fully dark, Avery pulled his rifle strap over his head and handed his gun to me. Then he crept through the shadows between guard positions, until he was out of sight. I waited with more anxiety than I was used to feeling. My years in the military had conditioned me to think strategically, not personally, about life-or-death situations. A commander could not allow fear for himself or for others to distract from what needed to be done. Still, Avery meant more to me than I liked to admit, and it would be difficult to disregard his safety in my decision-making. I willed him to return soon, so I didn't have to choose between him and the rest of the team.

We heard and saw nothing for the next six hours. I forced down the anxiety that tried to contaminate my thoughts. If Avery had been discovered, most likely an alarm would have been raised. He was probably just waiting for a route to clear to wherever he needed to go.

"Delta, should we go after him?" Sawyer asked when the deadline I'd given Avery had passed.

"Hold position, but prepare to move on my order." I replied, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to issue that order. If I did, lives under my command would certainly be lost.

Another ten long minutes later, there was a shout from the outskirts of town near us. My rifle was trained toward the sound in an instant. I wished earnestly for infrared goggles, or a drone, or anything I'd had access to in the military that would tell me what was going on.

Shots rang out, sending my heart into overdrive. The sound of boots pounding the ground followed.

"They're behind me!" Avery's voice. Thank god.

Light bloomed ahead. Red River Crew must have thrown a flare. Avery was racing toward us, with both scouts on his heels. Several pursuers paused, setting their feet now that they could see where to shoot.

"Get down!" I yelled, and our three hit the ground. The Red River Crew members soon followed, cut down by Sawyer and our team.

As soon as it was clear, Avery and the others closed the distance to our position, and we all sprinted into the forest. I wasn't sure if the crew would send more after us; they'd already lost several members, and they couldn't know how many guns we had. In the remaining darkness, under cover of the trees, they'd be unlikely to hit us, even if they had lights.

"Anyone hurt?" I called to the team when we were out of direct range.

"I'm...bleeding," Avery said.

Cold fear circulated through me in an instant. "Where?" I fumbled for my flashlight.

"My arm...but I think it was a knife, earlier. Not a bullet."

The fear ebbed a bit. That was less likely to be fatal, but it depended on how much blood he had already lost, and how quickly we stopped the flow.

"Anyone else?" I checked.

The rest of the team confirmed no other casualties, so I ordered them to monitor for pursuit while I took Avery aside to assess the damage.

I could see in the beam of my flashlight that blood had soaked through his jacket sleeve, which brought another chill to my veins. It only took a blood volume loss of about fifteen percent to initiate dangerous hypovolemic shock and organ damage. For Avery, that would be about one and a half pints, and he'd been running. Low blood volume was irreversible here, with nowhere to take him for intravenous fluids, a transfusion, or heart-boosting hormones.

"Sit down," I directed him, but he balked.

"We're still in danger. We should move further away."

"You'll be in more danger if we don't control this bleeding," I told him, keeping my voice calm. Agitation would only increase the rate of blood loss. "Sit down, please."

He complied, and I helped him get his jacket off, then knelt to examine his arm while he held the flashlight in his other hand. The cut on the outside of his forearm wasn't terribly long or deep, but blood was still welling from it continuously. He appeared to have been slashed, not stabbed, so hopefully he had avoided injury that required a surgical repair.

"When did this happen?" I asked, pulling off my pack to get to my first aid kit.

"After I snuck Finley and Jantz out of the holding cell, a guard caught me at the door. He didn't have a gun, so I tried to twist away, but he pulled his knife."

I found a bandage and placed it over the gash while Avery spoke. I gripped his forearm to apply firm pressure with the heel of my hand and raised his elbow to keep the wound above his heart.

"Mine was already in my hand, and I got to his chest first," he continued. "Think I punctured his lung, because he couldn't call for help." He glanced at my hand on his arm. "Didn't realize he'd slashed me until I stopped running."

"Do you feel dizzy?"

"No."

"Cold?"

"No."

"Any numbness in your arm?"

"No."

I'd let a medical expert do this, but unfortunately, I was the closest thing available. Sabine Ridge only had two doctors, and one was advanced in age. Avery's friend Rowan and a couple of others were in training, but they couldn't complete their studies away from a teacher. I'd learned triage medicine in officer candidate school as a teenager. In a battle, or an epidemic, or an earthquake, it boiled down to assessing who could be saved with first aid alone, and whose heart or brain or other organs would shut down without hospital care, which might be hundreds of miles away. I'd made that decision far too often.

Avery's mental state was obviously intact. I felt his skin with the back of my free hand: fingers, inner elbow, neck, forehead. Warm and dry, as it should be. I checked the pulse at his wrist: strong, not too rapid. He was able to tighten his fist with normal strength, so no major nerve or tendon damage.

"That was an impressive rescue you pulled off," I told him while I waited to see if his severed vessels would clot. "We made it out of there with the whole team, and barely a scratch."