War Zone

"So, there's no hope?"

"Oh, as long as I'm wearing these trousers still, there's hope."

I didn't have a chance to ask what, if anything, Trent meant by then, because we heard a stirring outside the hut, and I quickly rose from him and scurried off into the interior room. Our next meal—possibly our last, I had to recognize—was being delivered.

* * * *

He was good, very good. And fast reloading. He'd come to me after dark, waking me as he climbed on top of me on the cot. I'd been sleeping on my belly and woke to an arm going around my waist, lifting me up on my knees. My arms went over my head, my hands grasping the brass rungs of the headboard, as his tongue went to my hole and his free hand grasped my dangling cock and milked it. I writhed under him, panting hard and moaning. "Yes, yes, fuck me," I moaned. "Spike me and pound me," I begged.

And then he was mounted on my ass, and I held steady, pushing my hips back to meet the penetration, taking him deep. And cupping my pecs in his hands and crouching over me, he pounded, pounded, pounded my ass, as I grasped the brass headboard, rocked back into his crotch and cried you, "Yes, yes. You're a beast! Take it. Take it hard. Get it. GetitgetitGETIT!"

He got it and then rolled over onto his back beside me, closed his eyes, and began to snore quietly.

I could have killed Afram—somehow, maybe with my bare hands even though he was half again larger than me in all ways and surely much the stronger of the two—then. He was laid out on his back, naked, open, vulnerable. But even if I could do that, how would I escape the guard at the door and the rest in the camp? And where would I go? How would I get there? I had clothes, but they'd taken my shoes. How far would I get in the bare Syrian hills? What direction could I go to? The Lebanese border must be nearby, but would I be any safer there?

And Jack Trent. The Air Force captain. What of him even if I could escape?

Afram stirred, his hand going to my pubes, his fingers playing in my reddish-blond bush, the tips of his fingers touching the base of the cock and making me go hard again. I moaned softly and he was making a low moaning sound in his throat as well. I couldn't help myself. I knelt over him and took his cock in my mouth. He groaned and wrapped his hand around my shaft, stroking me as I gave him deep head, bringing his cock back to attention.

I rode him in a cowboy as he lay on his back, turning around and around on him, causing that oversized bulb of the curved cock to drag along all surfaces of my rippling passage walls. When I could take no more, I spouted my seed on his belly and he jerked and gave a little cry and came again and again, deep inside me, as the muscles of my channel walls grasped and squeezed and milked him.

I was asleep, my chest lowered on his, he still inside me, flaccid, when we heard vehicles approach and a soldier entered the room and spoke in Arabic.

"Yousef is here, Afram. You'll want to come out to talk to him. I don't think you'll want him to see this one."

Afram roughly pushed me off him and against the wall and rolled off the cot. He spoke to the soldier, apparently his second in command considering how freely they talked to each other, as he pulled on his fatigues and the sound of the vehicles moving in the ravine got louder.

"Yes, we'll meet him in the command tent."

"What will you tell him about what to do with the American flyer?"

"I won't tell him anything," Afram said. "It will be his problem now. If we want to openly oppose the FAR and he feels we're strong enough to stand on our own, we can do what ISIS does with them—offer the world a beheading spectacle and a challenge. But I suspect Yousef will just want him to disappear."

"And this one?"

"What do you think?" Afram said. "It's just a passing fancy. We'll be back to fighting soon enough. I'm sure that's what Yousef is bringing to us—the next phase of the fight."

They exited the room and my blood went cold. Obviously, they didn't know I could understand Arabic. My eyes darted around the room, looking for any possible weapon. The best I could see was that a spoon had been left with my eating bowl. It would have to do. I wouldn't get out of this, but, if I could manage it, neither would Afram. When he came back . . . if he came back . . .

"Ryan."

I heard Trent calling me in hushed tones from the other room, and I went to him, kneeling beside him. He had his cock out and was stroking it again.

"I heard you two in the other room. Was he good again? Fucked you good, did he?"

"Yes, he fucked me good," I replied. "I rode his cock too. I did it all."

"Like you rode me earlier today?"

"Yes."

"Like you'll ride me again now?" He gave me his best expression of a puppy dog look.

"Yes, like I'll ride you now." And then I did.

We had barely finished when the gunfire started. Trent instinctively pushed me off him toward the back of the room, away from the entrance, and covered my body with his. We both huddled there, trembling, as a firefight continued outside in the ravine.

It stopped and there were several moments of silence. I rolled away from the pilot and sat against the wall a few feet from him.

"What do you think?" I said.

"Don't know. Could be good; could be very bad."

Good won. A U.S. naval SEAL appeared in the doorway, holding a rifle. I only knew who it was because Trent called out, "Have the SEALs arrived?"

"That would be us," came back a gruff voice. "You the missing pilot?"

"Yep," Trent answered.

"What the hell?" I managed to say.

"I told you that there was hope as long as I kept my trousers," Trent answered. "There's a homing device in the waistband of my pants. They tracked me."

"Who the fuck is the other guy?" the SEAL asked.

Trent turned to me and muttered, "You gonna be this easy when we get out of here?"

"For you? Of course," I said.

Trent turned his face toward the SEAL, smiled, and said assertively, "He's with us. He's going with us."

"Then you two get the lead out," the SEAL commanded. "Copters will be here in a minute or two. We'll have to jump up to them. They don't want to land on Syrian soil, just so we can say they didn't. We'll take you out to the Med over Lebanon and the ship there will take you to Cyprus. This guy—you got clothes you can put on, guy?—an American?"

"He's Canadian," Trent said as the SEAL took care of his chains with two shots from the rifle and I scrambled to the other room to pull on my shirt and trousers.

"Close enough. Here, I'll support you." He started helping Trent up.

As we struggled out of the hut and up the side of the ravine to where we'd meet the copters, I saw bodies lying around here and there. I assumed they all were Syrians. If any of the Americans had been hit, the SEALs would take them with them. As we moved, other SEALs, rifles ready, eyes scanning in all directions, merged with us.

At the top of the ravine we had a few moments alone while the SEALs cleaned up evidence of their presence and the copters came in. I asked Trent, "What would you have said to the SEAL if I hadn't agreed to continue being easy for you?"

"How can you say you were easy for me?" he asked with a grin. "You're giving me no credit for my seduction skills."

"Yeah, right," I responded. "You waved your cock at me. That's all you needed to do."

"But it's a very nice cock. And I made it hard just for you."

"Yes, it's a very nice cock, but you're evading the question. What would you have said if I said I didn't want you to fuck me ever again? And what would the SEAL have done if you told him I was Russian rather than Canadian?"

"We'll never know, will we? You don't really want to know, do you?"

"No, I suppose not," I answered, with a sigh.

For a few seconds I wondered what had happened to Afram—but not for longer than that. I knew he wouldn't have given more thought to me than that before he blew me away. Pity.