If and When

He smiles at her embarrassed grin. "Yes, ma'am," he says. Then he kisses her again.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Travis is in his bunk taking off his gear. M16 and helmet on the floor. Pack straps off, both at the same time. Ballistic vest up and over.

Just as he's taking off his camo jacket, an officer walks in.

"Gear up," the officer says to Travis. "You're on lookout."

Travis's heart sinks. "Until when?"

"You talking back, soldier?"

"No, sir."

"Then get your ass in gear and get the fuck out there."

Travis takes the chance to quickly stop by Evangeline's room and explain. He finds the door open, but she's not there.

It's not exactly early, but he guesses it's not late enough. She must be busy doing something, and he can't risk being any later to his post. He'll explain afterwards. Tomorrow.

He sighs. He knows she'll understand, but he tries to shut out the disappointment in his chest. He tells himself that he's keeping her safe. Can't ask for anything more than that.

He walks back through the base.

"Trav!"

He turns to see Kate walking up to him.

"What are you doing all tactical? Playing the sexy soldier for her?" she sneers.

"I'm on lookout," he says.

"The hell you are," she says. "You have a lady to fuck."

"I have to follow orders," he sighs.

"I'll take your place," she says. "Who assigned you?"

"Sergeant Michaels."

"I'll talk to him. Piece of cake," she says with a wink. "Now go get her."

"Kate," he shakes her hand, "thank you."

He considers going to his bunk to take off his gear, but he's already lost time. He heads back towards Evangeline's room. He's suddenly nervous. He hopes she likes whatever "sexy soldier" means, because he needs all the help he can get.

He gets to her room. She's still not there.

He's starting to get worried now. Something must be keeping her.

He notices a trace of sandy boot marks on the floor. They can't be his, because he didn't walk that far in. He feels a shadow of doubt. No, she wouldn't. Would she?

He walks over to the medical wing. Her bed is empty.

He goes to the general's office. He tries to stay calm as he listens at the door. He doesn't hear anything. He opens the door quietly, but no one's there.

He can only think of one more place to look, and he almost doesn't even want to know.

He goes to general's quarters. Even before he gets close to the door, he can hear her voice. Moaning. His stomach lurches.

What the fuck did he expect? Of course she'd pick the general. A high-ranking officer who has everything he doesn't. The general can give her anything she wants, and all Travis can give her is candy off the street.

Just when he's about to walk away, head down and shoulders slumped, he realizes something. She's not moaning. She's screaming.

He rushes back to the door and throws it open.

What he sees gets burned into his vision. The general has Evangeline pushed up against a desk. Her blouse is ripped open, and his left hand is on her bra. His right hand is on the outside of her thigh, up her skirt. He's trying to force his tongue into her mouth.

She turns her face to Travis, and he sees her absolute terror. "Travis..." she whimpers.

"Evangeline!" He starts to run towards her.

The general whips his pistol from his belt and points it at Travis's head. Travis stops. It's too late to raise his rifle.

The general looks lazily at Travis. "You can either stand down or you can stand there and watch," he slurs. He's drunk.

Travis's mind races. The general is not quite close enough for him to engage hand-to-hand, but if he could just get a little closer...

He looks into Evangeline's eyes. She suddenly looks determined, as if she knows what she has to do.

She puts her hand on the general's face and turns it back towards her. "Let him watch, Wyatt," she says. "Let him see what a real man can do to me."

The general grins cruelly and gives her a sloppy kiss. His pistol hand droops.

In that moment, Travis lunges forward. He grabs the general's arm. The general yells and fights back.

"Go!" Travis shouts to Evangeline.

She squeezes past them and runs to the door, but she turns back to look. She can't bear to leave Travis like this.

The two men grapple, and in the struggle, the pistol goes flying. It hits a wall.

BANG

The sound of the gunshot jolts the room.

For a second, everything stops.

"Son of a bitch!" the general bellows.

Travis lets go of him, and the general lowers himself to the floor. He's holding his leg.

Evangeline turns around just in time to stop herself from seeing the blood.

"You motherfucking son of a whore," the general spouts. "You're a dead bastard. You're gonna wish you'd gotten shot in the face when you had the chance. I'm going to have your criminal ass court-martialed—"

"Wyatt, I don't follow," Evangeline interrupts. She walks into the room and stands over the general. She tries not to look at the blood. She can feel herself getting lightheaded, but she continues. "Do you mean the court martial case about your attempted assault? Because that's the only case with any relevance to these circumstances."

The general can't say anything to that. He holds pressure on his wound and looks away. "Fuck you, too," he grumbles.

Travis picks up the desk phone and dials the medical wing. "Forty-five ACP wound to the tibia, general's quarters," he says in an emotionless voice. He hangs up.

In the same voice, he says to the general, "The only reason I'm not punching your fucking lights out is so you can live long enough to be sorry."

He turns to Evangeline. His voice softens. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly," she says proudly. "Now let's go." She picks up some kind of small cloth from the floor and shoves it into her pocket. Then she turns around and struts out the door. Travis follows her.

As soon as they turn the corner, her whole aura changes. She looks shaken up. On her face, he can see all the fear she was hiding just now.

He pauses and starts to unbuckle the first layer of his gear. "Let me give you my jacket," he says.

"No, it's all right," she says. She overlaps the folds of her blouse as much as she can and tucks them into her skirt. "I can make it back to my room."

As they walk, she shrinks her shoulders and holds her blouse together. She hovers close to him, and after a bit, she even holds onto his arm. The whole way back to her quarters, he wants to say something to her, but he doesn't know what.

They reach her room. The door is open, the way she left it when the general said it was critical that she follow him. She walks over to her desk and turns on her lamp, but she notices that Travis isn't at her side. She turns around, confused. Travis has stopped outside the doorway.

"I'll stand guard for you," he says.

She walks back up to him. She takes her hand off of her blouse and gently touches one of the hands on his gun. Her blouse drifts slightly open. "You can guard me from inside," she says with a timid smile. She hopes he can't hear how self-conscious she is.

When he still doesn't react, she asks, "Don't you want me?" Then she scolds herself for saying pretty much the most self-conscious thing possible.

He lowers his rifle and holds her hand. "Of course I want you, sweet girl," he says. "I want you bad. But you've been through hell today."

She feels emboldened by his words. "Help me forget it," she says. "All of it. Everything but us."

He doesn't answer.

"What's wrong?" she says.

He shakes his head and looks at her. She sees a hopeless sadness in his eyes. She waits for him to speak.

"You're amazing," he begins.

She gives him a smile, though it's weakened by the sorrow she still sees in him.

"You're Evangeline Hoy. You're a professional negotiator with I don't even know how many degrees. You're so good at what you do that when the big government brains with degrees need to stop a war, they call you. And I'm just Travis," he shrugs with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm just a small-town scrub that almost dropped out of high school and got to choose between holding a gun or holding a tray."

She kisses his lips. "Stop right there," she says. "You are Travis Cludis, a man of integrity and honor. You should be proud of who you are. And if, for some misguided reason, having integrity and honor isn't enough for you, you risked your life to save me—twice! In my mind, you're not just a war hero. You're a hero."

She looks into his eyes, and underneath the glint of his tears, she sees a glimmer of tenacity.

"Earlier, you said that if you didn't have me, you'd have nothing more to live for. Do not be mistaken. You have so much to live for. You have so much more to see and feel and do, not just for me.

"I do believe humankind would stand to benefit from having more people like you in this world. But you don't have to live for anyone else. You can live your life for yourself."

She places her hand on his arm. "Are we clear on that?"

He nods. "Thank you, Evangeline."

She smiles. "Now that we agree that you don't need to do anything for me, I need you to take me at once," she says playfully.

He gives her a hint of a smile, but he still hesitates.

"Please," she says, more softly this time. "Come inside."

She steps slowly backwards and pulls his hand. He crosses over the threshold.

She closes the door (and makes sure to lock it). She turns around to see him standing in the middle of the room, a little out of place, a little out of reach.

She walks up to him and looks at his intimidating equipment. "Where does one even begin?" she asks.

He puts his rifle on the floor, pointing away from the bed. He slowly takes off his gear, one piece at a time, watching her for any sign that this isn't what she wants.

He stands before her in his T-shirt and trousers. She doesn't say anything, but he still pauses before taking off anything else.

She looks at his chest and touches her hand to it. He's so warm. She puts both of her hands on his chest and trails them down to his sides. He draws in a sharp breath.

She snatches her hands away. "I'm sorry," she says.

"No, no," he says. "That wasn't pain."

That can only mean his was a gasp of arousal. She's so not used to this. She puts a hand to her left cheek. "I must be bright red," she says.

He nods and smiles.

She laughs nervously.

He gently pulls her hand away from her face. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he says.

"Of course," she says, shaking her head.

She looks at him and smiles. Still bright red.

She hesitantly returns her hands to his sides. She grips the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it up. He lifts his arms and helps her take it off. She holds it and looks around like she doesn't know what to do with it. Then, she reaches over and puts it on her desk.

Her eyes explore the forms on his torso: the shapes of muscles, but also the shadows of scars. She extends her hand to his chest, but then she stops. As if asking for permission, she looks into his eyes. The glimmer she saw before is a fire now. It's so intense that she almost looks away.

She touches one hand to his chest, then the other. She steps close and looks up at him. He raises his hand to her face and skims his thumb along her lower lip. His touch is like a kiss in itself. He leans towards her, and she closes her eyes. He kisses her softly, slowly. Her breathing becomes shallow.

He wanted to let her set their pace, but the longer they kiss, the harder it gets for him to keep his lust under control. He gently slips her blouse off of her shoulders. Without breaking the kiss, he tosses it in the direction of the desk. He puts his hand on her lower back and pulls her against him. He relishes the feeling of her arms on his chest.

This is all new for her. The heat of his body, the beat of her heart. She feels both safe and vulnerable in his arms.

She feels his kisses become more eager, more greedy. A fire of her own rises in her. It's as if her blush never really went away—it simply moved lower down her body. He has barely touched her, but her sex is as wet and sensitive as if he were kissing her there.

His hands move to the waistband of her skirt. He finds the zipper on the side and pulls it open. He slips his hand under the waistband. He's shocked to find that she's not wearing any panties. He realizes that her panties were the cloth she put in her pocket. They were so ripped up that he didn't recognize them. He's furious that the general tore them off, but at the same time, he's rock hard from knowing how exposed she is right now.

With one tug, her skirt falls to the floor. He thinks he feels her tense up.

He pulls slightly away from her lips. "Evangeline?"

She quickly presses her lips to his again before he can say anything else. He welcomes her kiss.

She steps out of the skirt and her shoes. All that's left is her bra, and when she takes it off—lets it fall away from her body—it's the first time she's been naked in front of a man.

Still holding her, still kissing her, he turns her towards the bed. He lays her down on the blankets.

Suddenly, she feels a rush of fear. She feels his body crushing hers. She remembers the deafening boom, the explosion of light—

She flinches away from his kiss. He immediately lifts his weight off of her. "Evangeline?" he asks urgently. "Are you okay?" He feels her trembling.

She nods slightly.

He strokes her hair. "Tell me what's wrong, sweetie," he says gently.

His body is so broad. His face is so close. She turns her face towards him again, but she can't yet look into his eyes. "It's just...the bomb..."

"Oh, no," he says. His heart sinks. She's been traumatized.

He starts to move off of her.

"Wait!" she says, clutching his arm.

He pauses, his body hovering over hers.

"Please," she says. "I want this."

"Are you sure?" he asks. He gently strokes her left cheek with his thumb, avoiding the side with the cut.

She nods. This time, she looks into his eyes. They're full of fear.

"Evangeline, we don't have to do this," he says firmly. "I won't mind. I can leave, or I can sleep next to you, but I don't want to make you scared."

"I'm not scared," she whispers. "I'm not scared."

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his face back down to hers. He kisses her reluctantly, then devotedly, then aggressively.

He feels her hands trail down his chest and around his back. They push at his trousers.

He breaks the kiss and looks into her eyes. He doesn't see any more fear, but she could just be hiding it. What he does see is desire, and if there's anything he's learned by now, it's that he can't say no to her.

He briefly gets up to take off the rest of his clothes. As he stands next to the bed, she sees—and feels—his gaze trickle over her body. She wants to cover herself, until she hears him say, "You're so beautiful, Evangeline."

She beams. She knows it makes no sense to accept a compliment for something she can't truly control. But she loves it anyway.

Before she knows it, he's naked. It feels wrong to stare at him, but she can't look away. He's really hard. And this is really happening.

He crawls back on top of her and continues kissing her. She feels his hand slip down her stomach to her sex. His touch makes her breath catch.

He checks to see if she's wet. If she isn't, he'll force himself to slow down. But boy, is she wet. Good thing, because he can't wait any longer. He lowers his body onto hers. He runs his hand along her left thigh and pulls her knee up.

She feels his hardness pressing at her entrance. She gasps against his lips. It hurts, but she's determined not to show it. She clings to his arms. He slowly penetrates her. It feels excruciating. Every time she thinks he couldn't possibly go any further, he pushes another torturous inch deeper into her virgin sex. She wants to scream, but she suppresses her voice to a whimper.

He hears her whimper as a pleasured moan, and he groans into their kiss. They belong to each other, and it feels so fucking good. He withdraws his cock and slowly thrusts into her again, even deeper this time. She whimpers again. He lifts his head so he can look into her eyes, but they're closed. Her eyebrows are pinched together. Her head is tilted back, and her lips have fallen open. She's either blissed out or in pain.

"Sweetie, you're shaking," he breathes. "Is this good for you?"

She doesn't answer immediately, which means he knows the answer.

He pauses his thrusting. She opens her eyes, and he's startled to see that they're wet with tears.

"Please keep going," she whispers. She can barely speak.

"Evangeline, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

A tear falls from the corner of her eye, and he gently brushes it away with the backs of his fingers.

"You don't have to cry," he says. "No more bombs. You're safe, sweetie. I'm right here."

"Thank you," she says. Her voice is tight and trembling. "I'm sorry—I just didn't know it would feel like this."

"What do you mean?"

Then he realizes.

"No fucking way." He looks into her tearful eyes. "You've had sex before, right?"

She looks up at him and shakes her head shyly.

He looks disbelieving and disturbed. "Evangeline, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Baby girl, don't say sorry," he says. "How badly did I hurt you?"

She shakes her head in an attempt to say that she's fine, but more tears fall.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," he says. "I'll stop now."

"No! No," she begs.

Her sex is forced open and filled up with his cock. It's painful, but being deprived of him would hurt her more.

He looks at her with concern. She tries to hide the fear from her eyes. He kisses her forehead.

"Please, Travis," she breathes, "I need you."

Her words scorch him to the core. They make him want to fuck her hard and rough. But he exercises the discipline he was destined for so he can give her the night she deserves. He's not going to fuck her. He's going to make love to her.

He brushes another tear from her face. "Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay, sweet girl?"

She nods. The way he talks to her makes her melt.

He presses another kiss to her forehead. Then he trails kisses down her nose to her lips.

He finds her right hand with his left. Her hand is trembling. He entwines his fingers with hers and pins her hand gently to the bed. He runs his other hand along the outside of her arm, her side, her waist.

He begins thrusting into her. He's being as gentle as he can, but his thrusts still make her hips move slightly. He kisses her whimpering lips, as if he can kiss it all better.

"Does it feel good yet?" he murmurs against her lips.

"Uh huh," she nods.

He sighs with relief and desire. "Good, because you feel so good to me," he breathes.

He continues adoring her—kissing softly, touching surely, thrusting slowly. She tries to return his kisses, but she's so overwhelmed that she can't focus. She can only moan and shake and feel.

She loses track of time. Every moment is full of forever. She has waited all her life to be taken like this, and it was so worth waiting for. Her sex is pulsating with sensation. The pain is still there with the pleasure, but as his cock rakes her sex, it's getting harder and harder to tell the difference.

He feels his pleasure mounting. He kisses from her lips to her chin and neck. He latches hungry kisses on her throat, and then he skids the tip of his tongue along the side of her neck. He's worried that that might be too much for her, but he can't help himself. She moans into his ear.

"Do you like that?" he rasps.

"Yes," she whimpers.

He groans and laps more tonguing kisses against her neck and her ear.

"Oh..." she moans.

With her free hand, she pulls his right hand off of her waist and puts it on her left breast. He rubs his palm around her breast and strums her nipple with his thumb. He kisses down her neck and collarbone to her other breast. He takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking, licking, and ever so gently, nibbling. She moans at the feeling of both her nipples being fondled so delicately.