Marching Orders Pt. 03

"What's that sound?" the voice asked.

"I'm getting my dick sucked," Ray said, sounding amused.

A laugh came over the speakers that Scott didn't quite know how to feel about, but the conversation ended, Ray came in Scott's mouth, and Scott went on his way. There was another instance where he was instructed to show up to what turned out to be a dive bar not far from base. Ray had told him not to wear underwear and so he showed up in his usual shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops. He had to walk to the back and quickly duck into a storage room where Ray stripped him down and fucked him in a side compartment. He was naked and shameless and insatiable. It was one of those fucks where Scott struggled not to get too loud. Ray was a cop and not likely to put them in a position to be caught but these were risky places and the threat of exposure was always present.

As Scott made his walk of shame out of the storage room, he looked around and noticed that a few of them men there were looking at him strangely. An Italian looking fellow behind the bar fixed him with a knowing smirk and an impossibly muscular black guy chatted up him briefly before he made it out the door. The guy seemed to be around Scott's age, maybe a little older. He was only about an inch or two taller than Scott but... Scott noticed how his massive biceps stretched the sleeves of his short-sleeved shirt, the strong features of his handsome face, and his cocky-confident demeanor. His manner seemed almost flirtatious and when Scott finally left, the man offhandedly dropped a startling comment. It jolted him out his sex-drunk haze and spurred him to find Ray in the parking lot as he headed towards his jeep. It was a weeknight and there were few enough cars there that Scott didn't worry about anyone overhearing their conversation.

"Felt a little bit weird when I walked out of that storage area," he said, trying to sound non-confrontational.

Ray's face scrunched up in mild displeasure. Aside from one brief conversation, this man had shown very little interest in anything Scott had to say. Scott continued.

"The bartender, and this other guy who I think works there? Kind of seemed like they knew what we were doing."

"They did," Ray said, tersely.

"How!?" Scott felt a panic rising.

"The way that storage room it set up, they probably watched from the window in the office right next to it." Ray sounded bored. Scott was mortified and for a moment, speechless. Ray had never hidden the fact that his encounters with Scott meant nothing to him. It was always Scott who initiated contact. It was Scott who agreed to do whatever was commanded of him. But now Scott was starting to get angry.

"How could you let that happen!?" Scott exclaimed.

Ray went from bored to annoyed. "Some people like to watch. Get over it."

"What!?" I never agreed to that!"

"You agreed to do whatever I want. And right now, I want you to quit your yappin'." Ray was done with Scott and the conversation and let it be known by walking away, unconcerned and unfazed.

Scott was incensed but knew that going after him would be a bad idea. He thought about all of the nasty things he had done for Ray in that storage room, in other places. The idea that someone might see had never crossed his mind and there was burning in his chest that almost folded him. Scott drove away resolute in the fact that he would never contact Ray again. This was over. He felt like a fool and no amount of sexual satisfaction was worth the humiliation he felt in that moment... Or so he told himself. Then he thought about the man who had spoken to him at the bar. The idea that those men had seen him naked, seen the things that Ray had made do, made Scott feel something that he didn't want to admit. When he thought about it the burning in his chest branched and forked throughout the rest of his body. The feelings of humiliation lingered but were knotted up and transformed into something that Scott could not comprehend and when those feelings washed over him, he got hard. Scott texted Ray again within two weeks.