Active Duty_Gay Military Erotic Romance Read online

  Copyright © 2014 by Neil Plakcy.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by Cleis Press, Inc.,

  2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.

  Cover design: Scott Idleman/Blink

  Cover photograph: © David Vance

  Fine art prints available at: www.davidvanceprints.com

  Text design: Frank Wiedemann

  First Edition.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62778-048-3

  Contents

  Introduction

  Weekend Leave • SHANE ALLISON

  Letter from Home • JAY STARRE

  Do Ask, Do Tell • JULIAN MARK

  Marine Guard • DIRK STRONG

  So, Then • EMILY MORETON

  Liberty • DOMINIC SANTI

  A Voice in the Dark • NEIL PLAKCY

  New Dog, Old Tricks • AARON MICHAELS

  Ready Reserve • LOGAN ZACHARY

  Soaring • MICHAEL BRACKEN

  Candy Man • GREGORY L. NORRIS

  Semper Fi Wrestlers • BEARMUFFIN

  Comeuppance • ROB ROSEN

  The Rainbow Kerchief and the Full Moon • JAY STARRE

  About the Authors

  About the Editor

  INTRODUCTION

  In the fourth century BC, Plato wrote in his Symposium that when soldiers loved each other, they would be particularly protective of each other in battle, and able to defeat much stronger armies. Whether their pairing led them into a sexual connection or not, there are stories of many soldier lovers, including Achilles and Patroclus, and Damon and Pythias.

  However, antihomosexual sentiments have run rampant throughout history, affecting the military just as much as civilian society. Many Knights Templar were persecuted for same-sex affairs after the Crusades, and soldiers were whipped or discharged for “buggery” in the Napoleonic Wars and even in the American Revolution.

  This policy was codified in the United States with the passage of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell in 1993. It prohibited military personnel from discriminating against or harassing closeted homosexual service members or applicants, while barring openly gay persons from military service. It was not until the policy was repealed in 2011 that gay soldiers could be honest about who they love without fear of reprisal or dismissal.

  The public displays of affection between soldiers and other men, the first same-sex service academy prom dates, and the first same-sex military weddings serve to illustrate something we have known all along—that gay men are strong, brave and resilient, the very characteristics that make a great soldier. Today, countries from Albania to Uruguay allow soldiers to serve regardless of sexual orientation, while there are still dozens with restrictions or ambiguous policies.

  The stories in this collection celebrate the new freedom of American soldiers to love whomever they choose while still serving their country proudly. To quote President Harry S. Truman, “To you who answered the call of your country and served in its Armed Forces to bring about the total defeat of the enemy, I extend the heartfelt thanks of a grateful Nation.”

  Neil Plakcy

  South Florida

  WEEKEND LEAVE

  Shane Allison

  The night Tareek and I met, I had just gotten out of a ten-year friends with dick-sucking benefits with someone who I didn’t realize until much later hadn’t deserved me. The night I met Tareek, I had given Chris his walking papers, telling him that whatever it was, whatever we’d had was null and damn void. I wished him well and said my final good-bye. I was too through with his trifling, pussy-whipped ass. He was someone else’s problem, and I was all too happy to kick him to the curb. As far as I was concerned, his bitch-on-wheels, baby’s mama could have him. It was enough drama to make even a soap-opera diva say, “Dayuuummm!” I believe in karma like most people believe in God. And for Chris, it was a hood-rat bitch named Ikeara. But whatev. I’m over that white boy.

  I wasn’t about to go home and wallow. I was feeling too good about finally letting that muthafucka go after all those years. I wanted to celebrate, so I stopped off at my favorite watering hole, the Tomahawk, for a drink. I thought if I drank enough, it would wash away the years I wasted, the lies and bullshit. The Tomahawk was littered with broke college students snacking on cheap appetizers and nursing on watered-down Coronas. Gawking at the bubble-headed buff boys was my favorite pastime. I had even hooked up with a few of them. College boys get horny as hell after a few beers.

  I was on my second vodka cranberry, talking up Rob, this cute het bartender, when I felt a hand touch my arm.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  I turned to find this six-four, brawny, brown-skinned hunk of man standing behind me.

  “It is now,” I told him.

  He cut me a smile as he slid in between me and the bar stool. My dick started to thicken when his thigh grazed mine.

  Tareek was dressed in camouflage army garb, with a short haircut faded to the sides. I noticed his pretty light-brown eyes right away.

  “What are you drinking tonight?” Rob asked him.

  “Do ya’ll have Guinness?”

  “Absolutely, my friend,” Rob said nicely. “What kind?”

  “Do you have Red Stripe?”

  “For sure.”

  “I’ll have that.”

  Damn, he sounded masculine and sexy like he should be in a Jason Statham movie or something. He had pecs that were tight under all that brown and army-green camouflage. The last time I was in the presence of a man who was as fine as Tareek was…let me see, um…never. My palms were already starting to sweat and my dick was twitching like crazy in my shorts. I wanted nothing more than to reach over and squeeze one of his pecs, but my mama ain’t raise no fool. He would probably mop the floor with my faggot ass if I so much as asked him to pass the beer nuts.

  Rob popped the aluminum top off the bottle of Guinness.

  “There you go, my friend,” he said setting the cold bottle of booze in front of him. I glanced over just as he brought the beer to his juicy lips and took a swig. His beautiful throat pulsated as I watched the beer wash down his gullet. Jesus.

  I just sat there babysitting my vodka cranberry as Tareek watched some kickboxing match that was playing out on the fifty-inch TV that hung over the bar.

  “Another VC, Rashawn?” Rob asked.

  It was too early still to get shit-faced and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of this good-looking soldier who had decided to sit next to me over all the other losers who were saddled up to the bar.

  “Let me try one of the…Red Stripes.”

  Rob glanced at me like he knew I was trying to impress Tareek. He knew I couldn’t stand the taste of Guinness.

  “This shit taste like an ashtray,” I once told him.

  Rob popped off the top and set the bottle in front of me. I was hoping that Tareek would take notice but he just kept those pretty-ass eyes of his glued to the boob tube. I took a sip of Red Stripe. I wanted to spit it out as soon as the nasty liquid hit my palate. Eww, that’s gross, I thought, but I played it off like I was sipping on a birthday cake milkshake. I ran my thumb along the front of the bottle. Condensation trickled off the hard, dark skin of the glass onto my drink coaster like the pearls of sweat that leaked from the roof of my armpits. I took several more gulps of the beer in an effort to get up the bal
ls to talk to Tareek.

  “Are you coming or going?” I asked nervously.

  Tareek looked over at me with those bedroom eyes and lips the good Lord made for kissing.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  Within seconds, I had regretted asking him anything, consciously beating myself up for being such a fucking dweeb.

  “Are you about to go in or are you on leave?”

  “Oh, I’m on leave, actually. Just for the weekend though, and then I return to base in North Carolina.”

  I almost couldn’t believe that this fine-ass man was talking to me, that he was giving me the time of day.

  “I’m Rashawn by the way,” I said, with my hand extended.

  “Tareek,” he said, taking my hand firmly into his. “Nice to meet ya, man. So what do you do?”

  “I’m a modeling agent.”

  “I would much prefer to do what you do. I’d run less of a risk of getting my ass shot off.”

  I didn’t want to ask him questions about the war, and I didn’t want to come off as being too nosey, so I changed the subject to something more lighthearted like college football, which I didn’t know a thing about. I let Tareek do all the talking and hoped that whatever I had to offer made some semblance of sense.

  That night we talked so late that Rob had to practically run us out of the bar.

  “My bladder is about to explode,” I said.

  “You and me both,” he laughed.

  “You guys better make it quick ’cuz we’re about to lock up,” Rob said.

  I trailed behind Tareek past booth seats and pool tables to the men’s room in the rear of the bar. We stood in front of two urinals. The bathroom smelled like piss. I undid my fly and worked my dick out of the cotton panel of my draws, out past the copper teeth of my zipper. My dick was semi-hard, and a fast stream of piss splattered against the throat of the white porcelain.

  The cruisy fag in me glanced over at Tareek’s dick. He was packing eight, nine inches maybe, thick, with a milk chocolate hue to the shaft. I was literally salivating. Damn, he’s got a big dick. I wanted to drop to my knees and veer his dick to my lips, the stream of piss and all, but like I said, my mama ain’t raise no fool. My dick grew harder at the sight of Tareek’s. I finished peeing before him and tucked my dick back inside my zipper. Tareek was done two seconds after.

  Rob held the door open as we exited.

  “All right, bruh, see you next time,” he said, as he gave me dap. “Be safe over there, brother,” he told Tareek.

  I looked across the street at the clock at Tallahassee Capital Bank. It was five after three in the morning. I still didn’t want to go home. I was off for three days from my job so it wasn’t like I had to be on somebody’s j-o-b the next day.

  “Are you hungry? You want to get some breakfast?” Tareek asked.

  The only thing I’d had to eat all day was a hot dog and some chips. I was too caught up in Chris’s mess to eat, and I wasn’t a big fan of what passed for food at the Tomahawk.

  “Dog, you read my mind. I’m starving.”

  “Cool. There’s a Waffle House a few blocks down the street if you feel like walking.”

  “Yeah, I could use the exercise.”

  “Is your car going to be okay here?” Tareek asked. “They ain’t going to tow you or nothin’ will they?”

  “Naw, Rob is cool. He knows me.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at Tareek’s arms. I will do anything for a man in a tank top.

  I could make out his abs thanks to the thin, ribbed cotton that hugged his torso. The mental pic of his candy bar-long dick was branded in my brain, and how he shook the last drops of piss off the meaty tip.

  “So are you from here?”

  “Born and raised and I hate it.”

  “Why?” Tareek grinned.

  “There’s not much to do. The bars suck, the club scene is like…nonexistent. Tallahassee has like no culture.”

  “I hear ya on that one. Where would you like to live?”

  “I don’t know. Atlanta, New York, maybe. I went to Fort Lauderdale once.”

  “Fort Laud is nice. I have family down there.”

  “I really don’t care where I end up as long as I can get out of Tally.”

  When we got to the Waffle House, it was packed, which is always the scene after the bars and clubs let out. These coeds need scrambled eggs and hash browns to soak up all that cheap, watered-down beer.

  “Damn, it’s thick up in here.”

  It was so crazy people were filed out of the door like they were waiting to get food stamps or something.

  “Let me ask the waitress how long it’ll be before we can get seated,” Tareek said.

  He pulled this female dressed in a yolk-yellow dress and white apron off to the side and whispered in her ear like he was saying something pretty and sweet. She laughed. I watched as Tareek slipped a twenty spot in her hand.

  “She’s going to see what she can do.”

  “Do you know her?” I asked.

  “Akaysha’s brother is over in Basra. All of us grew up together in Pensacola.”

  Within a couple of minutes, Akaysha waved us over to a booth table she was clearing dishes from. I was already impressed within five hours of knowing Tareek.

  We sat down as she laid two menus in front of us. She was mocha-toned with brown eyes and gorgeous features. Her hair was done up in a hairnet. Girlfriend was way too cute to be working in a diner. And a name as pretty as Akaysha didn’t fit a waitress working in a greasy spoon. She had some super-model, Naomi Campbell realness going on. Her manicure was on point, but I figured after slinging trays of dishes awhile, it wasn’t going to stay that way.

  “So have you heard from Jamaal?” Tareek asked.

  “Got a letter from him last week. He’s holding his own. He wants to go over and fight. He says they’re over there just relaxing, getting some R&R and then they ship out to Afghanistan.” Akaysha couldn’t have looked more scared and worried. I thought she was going to faint right there across the table.

  Tareek took her by the hand. “Jamaal is tough. He’ll be okay. He’s strong like his sister.”

  I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s just that…he’s only nineteen, you know?”

  “He’s going to be fine. He’ll have them fools over there break-dancing before you know it.”

  Akaysha grinned. “Yeah, you right.”

  “Have them doing the running man or something.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty old school.” Akaysha laughed.

  “That makes me want to get up and do the cabbage patch up in here.”

  “Oh god, please don’t,” Akaysha pleaded.

  “I agree,” I said. “Please don’t try to bring that dance back. Let it stay buried in the nineties.”

  The three of us burst out laughing. Akaysha took a pad and pen out of the pocket of her apron. “So what can I get ya’ll to eat?”

  We cracked open our menus. I was in a major mood for pancakes and patty sausage, so I already knew what I wanted. Tareek ordered first.

  “Let me get the steak and eggs with a root beer.”

  Damn, steak and root beer for breakfast?

  “Okay, it’s going to be about ten minutes on that steak. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. We’re not in any rush.”

  Akaysha scribbled down Tareek’s order before she turned her attention to me.

  “Let me try the blueberry pancakes with sausage and I’ll have orange juice,” I said.

  Akaysha grinned as we handed her our menus. “Tareek, I’m glad you came through. I needed to laugh.”

  When he started rolling his arms, trying to do the cabbage patch while sitting down, Akaysha giggled.

  “Boy, stop,” she said, laughing. “I’ll be back with y’all’s food.”

  “That was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.”

  “What, my booth-seat cabbage-patch dancing?”

  “The way you calmed her down
like that. I could tell that she was upset about her brother.”

  “Well, you know what they say about laughter being the best medicine. Each other is all they have. Their grandmama raised them after their mama died from a drug overdose when they were kids. She wasn’t about to let them become another statistic on the streets. Jamaal enlisted a few months after I did. I’m like the big brother he never had, I guess. He was always following me around, wanting to do everything I did.”

  “So he enlisted because you did?”

  “Akaysha seems to think so, and she was pissed at me for a while thinking that I encouraged him to enlist in the army.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “I didn’t have a clue that Jamaal had enlisted until Akaysha wrote and told me. I just hope he’s keeping his damn head down over there.”

  The Waffle House line was dying down. People either got seated or they left to go somewhere else to eat. The smell of bacon, sausage and fresh-brewed coffee permeated the diner. My stomach kept growling. Thankfully, Tareek couldn’t hear how hungry I was with all of the talking from the other tables.

  “So can I ask you something? How does your girlfriend feel about you going to Iraq?”

  “Not sure. I don’t have one.”

  Yes!

  “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” Tareek asked.

  “I just got out of a bad relationship. And I mean just got out of one like seven hours ago.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m not. He was a shit chicken.”

  “A shit chicken?” Tareek laughed.

  Akaysha sauntered toward our table with a tray of food. “Here, let me help you,” I said.

  Akaysha handed me a plate of blueberry pancakes with four sausage patties on the side and two butters. Tareek’s T-bone steak was sizzling on the plate with a side of scrambled eggs. She sat the large glasses of orange juice and root beer on the table next to silverware cocooned tightly in napkins.

  “Can I get ya’ll anything else?”

  “I think we’re good here, baby girl,” Tareek said.

  Akaysha had a smile that could make the meanest of men purr. “All right, just wave if you need me.”

  “This looks good,” Tareek said.