[ john wayne and eddie: back to business ]

by lt. mac

He wore his sunglasses against the late afternoon sun that lay across the dusty streets of 'Sin City'.
Rolling his shoulders to ease the heat beneath the straps of his holster, Myron sashayed into a produce shop to gather some provisions he and Zeke could exist on while bivouacked for the next 2 days in the room they'd secured for some very private R'n'R together.
He picked out an assortment of exotic fruit, smiling to himself, imagining sliding the sweet succulent morsels into Zeke's mouth and feeling him suck the sticky juice from his fingers.
He cleared his throat self consciously, turning a few shades of red, as he glanced up to see a little old Vietnamese woman openly staring at him, guiltily thinking she could read his thoughts.
He concluded his business there and slid his sunglasses back down over his eyes as he stepped out onto the congested, bustling street.
Next stop? A bakery if he could find one . . .

The street teamed with bodies of all shapes, sizes, sex, ages and colour. All milling about trying to avoid colliding with one another, with taxis, carts and with farm animals.

The sights, sounds and smells of 'Sin City' were some of the most vivid memories a G.I. brought home with him after his tour - if he was lucky enough to go home alive.

The 3 Vietnamese men sat at one of the little cafe's outside table watching the street. Nodding his head in the direction of the American G.I. sashaying into the fruit store, one of the men seated, lifted a rumpled and stained Panama hat from his head, wiped the hat band of his sweat and settled it securely back on his head before heading across the street for the produce shop.
The two other men watched the American, with the pistol strapped securely to his chest leave the store and work his way along the busy street with 'Panama' moving along behind him, totally unnoticed. As the two passed the men at the table threw down some cash and headed off down the opposite side of the street to keep abreast of the soldier.


To avoid detection, 'Panama' kept going up the street as the American Lieutenant ducked into the little bakery shop. Instead the two thugs crossed the street and crowded into the shop to watch him, seeing the money he was foolishly flashing around.


Myron breathed in deeply reveling in the comforting aroma of baked bread. He poked and squeezed a bun here and a loaf there, feeling his stomach growl. He gave the plump young Asian woman one of his disarming smiles and juggled half a dozen rolls to her counter.

"Sorry." he laughed grabbing for some as they spilled all over the counter.

He glanced at her as she stood motionless across from him and took a curious look over his shoulder to see what was holding her attention. A couple of guys looking at a basket of sticky buns.

"How much?" he enunciated carefully, his face questioning her as he held out a fistful of MPC.

The woman looked into the handsome, almost innocent face and scowled at his stupidity.
She grabbed up the rolls, threw them into a bag, took what she needed to cover the price of his purchase and pushed his hand against his chest in warning. And just like any healthy male ego, Myron smiled at her, interpreting the gesture as an attempt at flirting.

"Sorry, mamma san. I'm spoken for."

"Careful, G.I." she whispered before releasing his hand.

"Wha . . . ?" he started but she turned her back on him, dismissing him, not wanting any part of what she was pretty sure was going to happen to this skinny, naive white boy.

Myron excused himself as he squeezed by the two men and was out on the street again with a bounce in his step, heading along the 3 - 4 blocks he'd roamed, back to the Crystal Palace bath house. And Zeke.

While Myron stepped out to 'fetch' enough supplies to keep from needing to emerge from their private room for days, Zeke stepped out of his skivvies and stood a moment in the dimly lit room, feeling the moist scented air touch his naked body.
The manager had lit musk scented incense before discreetly leaving the two men alone.
The black enamel tub, tendrils of steam rising from the water's surface was too inviting to resist and he stepped down into the sunken tub, the water and oil mix caressing his battle tired flesh. It slid up his calves, over his muscular thighs, engulfed his buttocks and genitals and caressed his torso comfortably as he sank into its depths.
Zeke stretched his arms out along the edge of the tub, leaned back and with a sigh, let his eyes flutter shut in total bliss. Well, almost total bliss. It would only be complete when he had his lover's body against his.
He remembered the first time they 'connected' as more than just soldier and officer, as friends, but as more.

It had been one rainy night in 'Sin City'. Myron had gone on a bender............This was way before that Devlin bitch had shown up. He'd always patiently wait for Myron's hetero urges to be satisfied. Hell, he'd even gotten head over heels for a certain lady psychiatrist himself.
There'd always be room for women in his and Myron's lives, he knew that. But the love they had for each other would be there forever. They were like two halves of a whole when they were together.
He enjoyed the role reversal that took place away from the field too. Myron quietly slid into a less authoritative position. Usually did what Zeke told 'him' to do. Was always eager to please the seasoned scruffy Sargent.
And this attitude was what had the younger man scampering out to find provisions for their 2 days of R&R, insisting that Zeke hang out and relax until he got back.
Now, where the hell was his other half, he thought, settling deeper in the steaming water, he's been gone a long time . . .

With the sun now down behind the buildings, Myron jammed his sunglasses into his breast pocket as he dodged a taxi start/stopping it's way through the crowd, to enter the Crystal Palace, oblivious to the predators moving in on him.
Panama double-timing it to stop the soldier before he could step through the entrance, 'accidentally' rammed into the American G.I., knocking his bakery purchase from his hand.

"Shit!" snapped Goldman, giving the man a dirty look.

"Sorry, G.I., sorry!" cried Panama in feigned fear, going for the dropped bag.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." said Goldman bending as well to retrieve his buns.

Panama shoulder-checked the Lieutenant hard enough in the hip to knock him off balance as he straightened.

"Whoops ! . , sorry." reacted Goldman as he was jostled into the two men who'd stepped up behind him. He smiled apologetically into their faces.

Panama shoved the bag at the L-tee's chest, knocking him into the two men again.

"Hey!" he protested with a nervous chuckle, thinking now the little man was drunk and staggering about fighting to keep his balance. "It's okay, sorry about that, fellas." Myron tried to say calmly as he felt their vice-like fingers dig into his arms.

He tried to jerk free as Panama deftly relieved him of his prized .45 calibre Browning, but was quickly subdues when Panama clouted him across the face with the butt of his own revolver.
Goldman was too dazed to protest as he was hauled into the shadowy side street and into the alley behind the Crystal Palace.
One thug swept Myron's bag, he still clutched numbly in the crook of his arm, to the ground sending fruit spilling, and slammed him forcefully against the wall.
He barked out a pained cry as the wind was knocked out of him and before he could recover, a fist drove deep into his gut, doubling him over, gagging. Panting and sucking in air, Goldman glanced around for a direction to bolt. No way was clear. He was going to have to fight his way out. If he could get to the alley entrance of the bath house, he might have a chance.
All this was still going through his head as he lunged away from a second blow. He side stepped, sliding along the wall until his second captor grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled him around, landing a punch squarely against his eye.
But Goldman was determined. He'd fight until they had him down on the ground. His fighting back surprised them, and he took their moment's hesitation to go for the door.
Fingers wrapped around the handle, it turned and with his heart in his throat, he yanked the door open.

"Zeeekkke!!" he screamed just as he was tackled. The tackle throwing him against the door and slamming it beneath him.

Zeke came fully awake in a second. He sloshed half the tub's contents to the floor as he leapt out. He snapped on skivvies, snatched up his pistol and thundered from the room, only to collide with Spc4 Danny Percell, in the same state of undress, and behind Percell stood Francis Hockenbury, in a short kimono style smoking jacket.
They looked dumbly at one another for a moment, before Percell came to his senses.

"Sarg! That was the L-tee!!" he rasped.

Their concern for their leader over rode their surprise of finding each other there.
They jumped as something thudded loudly against the door.
Zeke grimaced, rage building as he heard a colourful string of expletives through the door in Myron's pained, familiar throaty voice. Anderson, dripping wet and bare foot, plowed down the short hall and rammed the door, taking it right off the hinges, knocking Panama and one of the thugs on their asses. Goldman's revolver skittered to a stop at Percell's feet. He ducked down to retrieve it as Panama half crab-walked, half crawled down the alley in fright, with the thug right behind him. Zeke aimed at them.

"Sarg!" warned Doc seeing the remaining mugger haul the dazed and bloody L-tee to his feet, using him as a shield against the crazy Yanks glaring at him.

He flipped out a serious looking blade and pressed it to Goldman's throat.

"Now, just relax, there, 'hong'."

The cornered man jabbered nervously at the 3 Americans between him and an escape route.

"Just let him go and we'll let you go." reasoned Zeke calmly, gesturing for the man to let Myron go. He lowered his gun hoping the man would see this as the best odds he was going to get.

The thug glanced nervously around the alley, clutching a reviving Goldman tightly to his chest and began inching his way along the far wall.

"DeeDee mau. DeeDee mau." encouraged Zeke.

Myron shook his head and raised bleary eyes to see Zeke standing in his boxers across the alley from him.

"Don't move, L-tee." advised Anderson raising a cautioning hand but too late, the Vietnamese felt Goldman tense up.

'Hong' whacked Goldman on the side of the head and shoved his sagging body at the men who were coming at him.
As the terrified thug sprinted from the alley, Percell and Anderson lunged forward, catching the falling officer in their arms.

"Let's get him inside."

Doc took a moment to retrieve the spilled produce and baked goods as Percell helped hoist Myron over Zeke's shoulder and follow him back inside.

They carried Myron into the room and laid him gingerly on the bed.

"He gonna be okay, Sarg?" his eyes wide with excitement.

"I think so. He's got a hard head."

"Anything I . . , we can do?" he asked seeing Goldman beginning to stir.

"Well, now . . . I appreciate the offer, Danny, but it looks like you've got things of your own to handle. . ." he nodded as Doc walked in.

"I managed to salvage some of this." offered Hockenbury, extending the torn bag of fruit to the Sarg.

"Thanks, Doc." he smiled taking it.

"Y'sure there's nothing we can do?" asked Percell again, taking in the disheveled man all sprawled across the bed.

"Looks like you could use some looking after, yourself." said Zeke pointing at a what looked like bite marks on Percell's shoulder.

Percell turned 3 shades of red and nodded sheepishly avoiding looking at either Zeke or Doc, who were smiling knowingly at one another.

"Hockenbury, get this soldier outta here. I've got me an officer to nurse back to health."

"Yes, Sir!" Doc linked an arm comfortably through Danny's and steered him from the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

Zeke dumped the bag and dropped to his knees by the bed, helping Myron swing his legs off the bed and sit up.

"Nice 'n' easy, L-tee." advised Zeke.

"I'm . . . okay." moaned Goldman.

"Take it slow." he spoke gently as he worked at the buttons on Myron's shirt and eased it off his shoulders. He hesitated a moment when he saw the bruises peppering the lean torso before him. He reached out to touch them. Needing to touch Myron's skin.

He brushed a knuckle softly across his ribs.

"Hurt?" he asked as he watched Myron shudder involuntarily, nerves beginning to react to his ordeal. He glanced at Anderson, a lost look in his eye.

"C'mon." said Zeke, taking Myron's hand and helping him to his feet.

They moved across the room leaving a trail of Myron's clothes and boots behind them. Zeke helped him step into the tub with him and the two stood a moment feeling the steam rising around them.
Zeke slowly turned the L-tee around seeing the bruises darkening against his skin. He leaned in close and pressed his lips to a vicious discolouration on his back. Myron shivered under those velvety lips.
Zeke worked up Myron's spine with a hungry mouth, settling in at the nape of his neck.
Gently, he moved closer, molding himself against Myron's back, buttocks and thighs. He nuzzled at the back of his ear as he ran rough, calloused hands around the young man's waist, running them over his taut belly, fingers slowly exploring the springy pubic hair.

"I love how you taste, L-tee." Zeke's breath was hot against Myron's flesh.

Tilting his head back to offer more throat to Zeke's searching mouth, Myron wrapped his long fingers around Zeke's blunt, weathered ones and guided him lower, sucking in a sharp breath as Zeke's hand encircled him.

"Gawd , , , Zeke." he barely whispered, leaning back into the man's muscular body, feeling Zeke's own rising passion pressing against his backside.

A primal throaty growl escaped him in response to Zeke's schooled touch.
And suddenly, he was trembling, his body betraying him, choosing now to react to what he'd just been through.

"L-tee?" asked Anderson, stopping.

"I, I, I'm s,s,sorry . . ."he choked it out like a frightened child, nearly breaking Zeke's heart.

"C'mere, L-tee. You're safe now, I've got you." he purred, scooping Myron into his powerful arms and easing the two of them down into the hot oily water. Myron wrapped his arms around his neck as Zeke settled back against the side of the tub and held him solidly against his chest in patient silence until the trembling and tension had slipped from his limbs.

"Sorry." whispered Myron after a long while.

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, L-tee. You were a little shook up, and rightly so. 'Sides, I'm getting into this." he grinned devilishly. Myron's hand disappeared below the water's surface with a little *glook* sound and Zeke let out a surprised grunt.

"Oh. . . you are getting into this." he grinned back, concentrating on his work beneath the water.

Zeke bit at his lower lip laying his head back with at deep groan, gripping the edge of the tub.

Myron gazed into the face before him, watching the expressions change as he sent him over the crest of his climax and he smiles warmly when Zeke was finally able to open his eyes and focus on him.

"Gawd, L-tee." he sighed weakly, a dizzy smirk on his face.

Myron started to giggle, saw Zeke lunge at him and then that soft velvety mouth was suddenly over his and Zeke's big hands were cupping his face possessively.

He welcomed Zeke's tongue as it licked against his lips. Their tongues moved and slid wetly around each other, they sucked at one another, nibbled at each other's mouths, creating a growing hunger in areas far away.
Myron's hands ran up the back of Zeke's legs to cup his buttocks, fingers digging into the meaty flesh. Long wet fingers sliding between the mounds. Stroking. Probing, his penetrating fingers driving Zeke wild. And when it was over, Zeke slumped weakly over Myron wondering if his heart was going to explode. It was a few moments before he could speak. And when he did it was in short winded fits and starts.

"Tea . . . you should have some tea." he breathed.

"I'd rather have whiskey."

"Tea . . tea will take the shakes 'away' . . . whiskey'll start 'em." he managed a grin, having seen Myron's morning-after whiskey shakes on more than one occasion.

Zeke reached for a towel as he climbed weakly from the tub, wrapping it around him like a sarong. Myron reluctantly followed, wrapping a towel around his own narrow hips and wrapping another around his shoulders like a shawl.


"Mmm, a little." answered Myron accepting the tiny handleless tea cup.

He absently sipped at the hot liquid, feeling it snake its way into his belly and set his cup down as he reached for Zeke, pulling him close by the sarong, kissing him deep and long. Zeke had to break away before his knees buckled.
He stared into the twin brown pools before him, gasping to get his composure. This kid had an amazing effect on him, he thought as he followed him zombie-like to the mosquito netted bed.
Myron sat with a bounce steered Zeke into between his legs.
Zeke looked down at the young lieutenant, feeling himself getting hard again already. Myron grinned mischievously up at him as his fingers raked away the towel to let him spring and bob free.
Myron watched the Sargent's erection a moment before licking his lips and taking him deeply into his mouth.
Zeke's knees shook in ecstasy as Myron's tongue did paralyzing things to his throbbing member.
Myron slid his hand between Zeke's legs and caressed his aching balls. Hunched over, Zeke dug fingers into Myron's shoulders, afraid he was going to drop to the floor. The young officer did a thorough job of it by the time he was done and Zeke barely managed to move to the side of him before he sank to the bed in a near faint.
Myron smirked at his talent.

"Zeke?" he asked curiously, after a longer than normal silence.

"You'll have to forgive me, I've died and gone to heaven here." Zeke said flatly, staring dumbly at the knotted netting above the bed.

Myron crawled onto the bed, having a hard time keeping his towels around him, with kneeling on one half and Zeke yanking on the other.

"Myron . . . my turn . . ." sighed Anderson happily, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing Myron and pulling him down on top of him. They kissed softly. Little nibbles, a quick flick of the tongue, a gentle joining. Deep and slow - at first, becoming demanding, rougher.

In Myron's mind, it seemed like Zeke's hands were everywhere at once, leaving trails of fire behind them as they roamed all over his body. Then the wizened hands were being replaced with an eager hungry mouth and tongue.
Zeke's mouth traveled down his throat, tasting him as he made his way down his body. Myron drew in a shaky breath as the mouth, on its journey south flicked a tongue into his sensitive navel before moved on. nose nuzzled in springy bush and with maddening slowness, worked its wet, hot way up the his hard pulsing penis to it's dripping tip, flicking a tongue at it, came down around it, taking it in deep and slow, sucking at the juice.
Myron clutched at the sheets nearly screaming as he exploded and still, Zeke didn't stop.
Zeke's hands slid in beneath his buttocks and suddenly he was flipped onto his belly, hips jerked up till he was on his knees. He felt Zeke there behind him, felt his hard member pressing into him.
Myron grunted into the mattress as Zeke entered him.
They froze a moment, their excited panting the only sound in the room. Then, as if signaling his readiness, Myron pressed himself back against Zeke, taking him in deeper.
Zeke rammed himself into Myron once, withdrew a little, thrust again and withdrew, and again. As the sensation began building deep in his testicles, he began to drive deeper and faster into his lover with a pounding rhythm. They moved against one another, speed and force increasing with every stroke. Their bodies slick with sweat.
Myron felt himself ready to come and shoved himself back into Zeke harder and faster until they roared through the orgasm as one.
Collapsing together on the bed, Zeke pulled Myron into his arms, their bodies fitting together, the two laying like spoons, in spent silence. He dragged a sheet up over them, wrapped his arms around Myron, kissed him tenderly behind the ear and dozed, with the taste of his lover's skin on his lips.

[ lt mac ]           [ index ]