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Cam had known Sergeant Sullivan had it out for him within the first thirty seconds of meeting him. Sullivan’s gaze had zeroed in on him and he’d swooped in like a hawk, piercing blue eyes pinning Cam in place. Cam had forced himself to keep his eyes fixed forward and tried to hide the way his hands shook.
“What is your name, recruit?”
Sullivan’s question had come softly, but Cam knew there was an undercurrent of threat in his voice that made Cam’s heart race.
“Sir, Recruit Cope, sir!”
The answer had appeased Sullivan for the moment, and as he moved away to bark orders at the rest of the group, Cam and Ray exchanged a look of horror.
He knows, Cam thought immediately. I don’t know how, but he knows about me. Knows what I am.
Sullivan put them into a game of 96 while giving them his first lecture.
“In my Marine Corps, we locate, close with, and destroy the enemy. And that starts right here, right now. And make no mistake, the enemy is not behind you, or next to you, or in front of you. The enemy is inside of you!” He yelled, directed the last phrase at Ray.
“Some of you have lived in weakness all your miserable lives,” he continued, glaring at Ochoa. Cam tried his best to ignore the way his muscles in his arm were straining from holding up his rifle. “Some of you have never been tested, but I will push you until you break!”
“Some of you think you’re invincible,” Sullivan said, getting into Slovacek’s face, “but you’re about to get crushed!”
“Some of you have no idea what you’re capable of because you’re too fucking lazy to find out!”
“And some of you…” Sullivan continued, turning on the spot to walk slowly towards Cam, stopping a foot away from him to look at him directly, “some of you know that you should never have stepped foot here at all.”
He backed away to address the group again. “And my job is to make you into men. And then if you survive all that, into Marines.” He looked once again at Cam, pointedly, “Time to kill the enemy.”
As Sullivan withdrew and the recruits had a few precious moments to themselves, Cam plopped down to sit on top of his trunk, his heart still racing from the encounter with Sullivan.
Fuck. He knows, and he’s going to try to get rid of me. I’m fucked.
And yet, as intimidating as Sullivan was, there was something underneath it all that sometimes made its way to the surface that had Cam confused. Sullivan was always sure to make sure that Cam was suffering, was humiliated, and was shown that he didn’t belong. And yet… he had moments of genuine kindness that shocked Cam.
So while he spent the day of the confidence course belittling Cam in front of everyone else, he’d also come to Cam’s rescue when his shoelace had gotten stuck on the Stairway to Heaven.
Cam’s heart had pounded in his chest as panic coursed through him when he’d realized his shoelace was preventing him from moving. He clung to the wooden beams and tried to remain calm, painfully aware of the fact this was doing nothing to beat the loser allegations.
“Move your ass or I’ll move it for ya!” Sullivan called up to him.
“Sir, this recruit’s bootlace is stuck, sir!”
Cam adjusted his grip and waited for a response, but heard Sullivan address someone else.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Sir, this recruit volunteers to help!” Ray replied, and Cam suppressed a smile.
Of course he would volunteer to help. Even when Sullivan’s ordered him away from me.
“Help yourself to just begin!” Cam heard Sullivan shout in response, and Cam knew Ray would be stuck doing push-ups until this situation had been resolved.
Is Sullivan going to just leave me up here? Seems like something he’d do.
But Sullivan had surprised Cam. He’d climbed the ladder himself, moving effortlessly and with a grace Cam couldn’t comprehend. When Sullivan made it to him, Cam spared a quick glance in his direction, and he couldn’t miss the way that genuine concern could be seen upon the Sergeant’s face.
Cam then felt the way that Sullivan touched his leg in a way that was so gentle, so hesitant, that Cam felt his breath catch in his throat. The DI then gingerly unlaced the boot and threw it to the ground before climbing the last step to come level with Cam.
“Okay,” Sullivan said softly, reaching out to grip the leg that Cam had wrapped around the wooden rung in front of him. This time, Sullivan’s grip was firmer, yet somehow also reassuring. “Give me your leg,” Sullivan commanded quietly.
“Yeah?” Sullivan asked as Cam moved, checking in with the recruit to make sure he was okay. Cam didn’t respond, focused as he was on not falling to certain death. But Sullivan’s presence beside him was steady and gave him the confidence he needed to begin maneuvering down the ladder.
Sullivan kept his eyes trained on Cam as they descended, but Cam refused to look at him, embarrassed and loath to show his gratitude to the man who’d been tormenting him.
When they finally made it to the bottom, Cam stood in place and waited for Sullivan’s response. The man had stepped toward him, eyes not unkind, but troubled. It was almost a look of pity, but as he moved closer, pity morphed into disdain.
“If there are no faggots in my Marine corps, then why are you still here?”
Cam’s heart had dropped in his chest, and he just barely suppressed the urge to grab at his chest as his heart ached. He could feel the beginnings of tears form in his eyes, but by a sheer miracle the tears never fell, perhaps because Cam asked himself the same question every day.
Why am I still here?
In yet another surprising twist of character, Sullivan had been the one to help him answer that question: Cam was still here because he genuinely wanted to be a Marine. Cam had never thought a night of dumpster diving under Sullivan’s watchful eye would get him there, and yet that is precisely what happened.
“You thought you wouldn’t get caught?”
Cam let out a huff as he bent down to grab another roll of toilet paper from the dumpster, trying to ignore the way shame formed a pit in his stomach.
“Sir, this recruit knows this doesn’t look good,” Cam said to Sergeant Sullivan, drawing back to his full height and averting his eyes from his superior, as was custom.
“The drill instructor might see this as an act of sabotage,” Cam continued, “but, sir, this was also an act of loyalty.”
Cam could feel Sullivan’s piercing stare fixed on him, assessing.
“Did I tell you to stop!?” Sullivan asked after a moment, his voice harsh. Cam continued digging through the trash, hyperaware of Sullivan’s eyes tracking him.
How embarrassing, Cam thought to himself. Somebody kill me now. That is, if Sergeant Sullivan doesn’t get to it first.
“Sir, that’s all, sir!” Cam announced some minutes later, feeling and sounding out of breath. “Will the drill instructor allow this recruit to explain?” he asked.
Sullivan crossed his arms over his chest, his stern gaze never once leaving Cam’s face, but Cam saw it for what it was–an invitation to explain.
“Sir, this recruit doesn’t have many friends,” Cam began, “but this recruit is fiercely loyal to the one that he does have. And this recruit’s friend needed a boost. Isn’t that what semper fidelis means, sir?”
Cam realized a moment too late that he’d gone too far and suppressed a wince as Sullivan uncrossed his arms to scold him.
“Don’t you spit the Corps’ words back at me to cover your ass,” Sullivan growled. “What order did I specifically give you?”
“The drill instructor told this recruit to let him sink,” Cam answered immediately.
“Then why did you disobey my order?” Sullivan demanded.
Cam faltered.
“Sir, permission to speak freely?” Cam asked. When Sullivan didn’t immediately respond, Cam let his eyes drift from the required frontward gaze to instead make eye contact with Sullivan. Cam couldn’t help but notice how alluring the older man looked in the dim light, his auburn hair soft and warm, a shocking contrast to the icy blue of his eyes. A muscle twitched along his jaw, but Cam took his silence as permission to speak.
“I would rather fail than see him fail,” Cam said earnestly, allowing himself to be vulnerable with the confusing man in front of him, someone who had pushed and tormented him endlessly, yet had demonstrated glimpses of tenderness and care, and something almost like… understanding.
Sullivan’s gaze lowered from Cam’s face, his mind a mile away.
“You don’t think you deserve to be here?” Sullivan asked, this time softly, and with a hint of emotion that almost seemed like… sadness. He raised his eyes steadily to meet Cam’s once again.
“The drill instructor told this recruit he didn’t belong here,” Cam said, with a hint of a bite and emotion making his voice thick.
Cam watched as some emotion he could not discern showed itself upon Sullivan’s face. Sullivan looked at Cam for a long moment, pulling his lip inwards to bite at it slightly as he thought.
“So you’re gonna let some asshole run you out of here?” he asked at last, his language rough but his voice almost gentle.
Cam couldn’t find the words to respond so he just looked blankly back at Sullivan, taken aback.
“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Sullivan said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic softness. He took a step closer to Cam and lowered his face to earnestly impart upon him his next words. “Matters what you fucking think.”
“So you’re gonna surrender when things get tough?” Sullivan asked, shifting on his feet as some of his roughness found its way back into his voice. “Hm?” he pushed, stepping in closer to Cam. “You’re gonna turn your back on your brothers? On your duty? Your country?”
Cam wasn’t sure what to say, his emotions a whirlwind within his chest. To make matters worse, Sullivan stepped further into his space, getting into his face as he pushed a pointed finger into his chest.
“What kind of man do you wanna be?” Sullivan asked him, his gaze intense. “Do you want to be a marine?”
“Yes, sir,” Cam answered quietly.
“I can’t fucking hear you,” Sullivan said.
“Yes, sir!” Cam shouted.
“I said, do you want to be a Marine?” Sullivan repeated, raising his voice to a yell.
“Yes, sir!
“Do you belong here?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Willing to fight for it?”
“YES, SIR!” Cam yelled at the top of his lungs.
“DO YOU WANT TO BE A MARINE!?” Sullivan shouted back, pushing Cam to his breaking point.
“YES, SIR!” Cam screamed, a flood of emotion breaking through and leaving tears in his eyes. He gasped as he fought to control himself.
Sullivan moved closer to him once again, his eyes wide and earnest, but his voice still stern.
“Then stop thinking of yourself as less than. Claim your fucking place.”
The words were everything Cam needed to hear and more. It was… permission to be himself. To be all that he was and still belong.
Sullivan had left him afterwards, and Cam had stood there by the dumpsters for some moments longer, thinking over just how much he’d changed in a matter of weeks.
I want to be a Marine. I… actually want this.
It was a realization that scared Cam. He’d done this because he’d had nothing better to do, and it’d been a way to hang out with Ray and experience something new. He figured he’d had left or gotten kicked out by now. But what had just happened with Sullivan… Cam started to believe he might just have an actual shot at doing this after all.
Cam felt optimistic for a little while, and Sullivan had clearly taken him under his wing, steely though it was. He’d sat Cam down in his office to talk through Ochoa’s death and had taken time to correct Cam’s shooting skills, which had resulted in an approving nod and a clap on the shoulder.
Cam felt as if he were on cloud nine.
Sullivan had gotten under his skin.
Cam knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, but the whiplash of emotions from the older man was intoxicating to him. And the few moments of well-earned praise he’d received from the stern Sergeant had made Cam practically weak in the knees as his heart sang in his chest.
And of course, it didn’t hurt that Sullivan was gorgeous.
Cam stole a glance at those piercing blue eyes whenever he could risk it, and yet it was hardly enough. Whenever Sullivan wasn’t looking, Cam was watching the way his muscles flexed as he walked, how his veins bulged along his arms. Cam could hear Sullivan’s raspy, stern voice commanding him to do filthy things in his dreams, and Cam felt he was going crazy.
There was a palpable, electric tension between the two of them, and everybody knew that Cam had become Sullivan’s “special boy.”
And yet for all the positives that came from Sullivan’s direct attention, he was still a bit of a wild card, and Cam began to feel as if Sullivan were about to crack when things did ultimately come to a head.
It was Jones.
Jones’ presence had flipped a switch in Sullivan, and he’d double-downed his intense focus on Cam to the point where it almost became an obsession.
Cam had tried to explain it to Jones, but Jones wasn’t so sure about Sullivan.
“Cameron, of course Sullivan’s a closet case. He’s practically a neon sign. Think about what you just told me. First, he tries to destroy you. Then he swoops in as your mentor? You don’t need a compass for that. He wants you to be as miserable as he is.”
Cam didn’t want that to be true. He’d come to look up to Sullivan, wanted to be like Sullivan.
Of course, Cam had wondered if Sullivan was gay. It would seem a logical reason for why he’d become so interested in Cam’s success (or yes, initially failure). But Cam hadn’t been sure if that was just wishful thinking based on how bad he’d wanted Sullivan to bend him over and fuck him over his desk.
But Jones couldn’t know that.
“Okay, what if he’s just trying to help me?” Cam asked.
“Help you do what?” Jones asked, with a look that told Cam he pitied him.
“You don’t need him,” Jones said. “Let’s make a deal. It’s you and me, okay?”
And that had warmed Cam’s heart, and perhaps he’d also felt stirrings of desire elsewhere, too. Jones was hot, and it was near irresistible not to want something more when someone like you told you they, too, wanted to be by your side.
It had forged a bond between them, and it made them soft and smiling.
And Sullivan had seen it, and he’d hated it.
They had just walked in from their camo-ed out scavenger hunt in the woods and were smiling at each other over the deal they’d made when Sullivan called them over.
“You two!” he shouted. Cam and Jones came to a stop in front of Sullivan and Cam watched as Sullivan ran his eyes up and down the both of them, his gaze intense.
“Fly away,” he said dismissively to Jones, who ran off as he was told. Sullivan then turned his gaze to Cam and stepped into his personal space, his face inches away from Cam’s.
“Have a good time in the woods, Cope?” Sullivan asked, his words dripping with insinuation.
“No, sir.” Cam replied.
“You’re not enjoying my program?” Sullivan asked flatly.
“No, sir. Uh, yes, sir. I like… This recruit likes the drill instructor’s program, sir,” Cam sputtered, his cheeks heating up under the intensity of Sullivan’s glare.
“Then get back to it,” Sullivan growled, clearly meaning more than just the program. Cam could basically hear Sullivan saying “Get it together, Cope.”
“Aye, sir,” he said obediently, before hurrying about his business.
***
If Sergeant Liam Robert “Bobby” Sullivan were a wiser man, he probably would have retired out of the Marines and gotten himself some therapy, tracked down Aaron and made things right with him, and maybe he’d have had a shot at a decent, happy life. Maybe he and Aaron would have lived together out in California, or some other town that wouldn’t chase them with pitchforks.
He may have been… happy.
But Liam had chosen differently. The call of the Marines was too strong, the thirst to prove himself unquenchable. It was why Liam had always secretly felt that Aaron was too good for him, too ready to be true to who he was and live so openly without fear.
For all his bravado, Liam was nowhere near as brave as Aaron.
The pressure in Liam’s personal life had been slowly increasing, and he could feel the fever pitch coming. He felt himself beginning to lose control. If he were wiser, he would seek help. Take a personal day. At least take a walk.
But Liam found himself pushing himself even further, burying himself in the work of a DI.
Liam needed to be a Marine. He wanted to belong here–to be seen as belonging here by others–so badly.
“Claim your fucking place,” he’d told Cope, that night by the dumpster. The younger man had looked up at him with such hope, such tenacity, that it had re-lit the fire within Liam as well.
He’d signed his re-enlistement papers the next day.
But with the NCIS poking around now and the guilt of the trouble he’d caused for Aaron eating at him, Liam felt a renewed mandate to ensure that Cope’s future wouldn’t be as fucked as his own.
He’d thought a more positive mentorship approach may help, and Cope had responded to it well, and Liam found himself genuinely pleased to see Cope grow in confidence. Before he’d even realized it, Liam had very clearly taken the younger man under his wing, and Liam didn’t want to let him down.
He wanted Cope to be… proud of him. To look up to him. To want to learn from him, heed him, to value what he taught him.
But then Jones happened, and Liam found that precarious grip he held on his control began to slip even further.
Liam knew as soon as he saw the two of them together that they, and by extension he, were fucked. The smile Jones and Cope had shared was tender, and soft, and it was precisely the type of shit that would get them all found out.
And for some reason Liam didn’t want to examine too closely, it really pissed him off.
Liam wanted Jones gone.
“What do you think of the new kid?” Liam asked Howitt as they stood watching the recruits clean the bathroom.
“Who, Jones? He got a mouth on him, but I think he’ll make it.”
“Hm.”
“Cope. That’s the one that surprises me,” Howitt continued. “I mean if you told me at the start he’d still be here, I wouldn’t have believed ya. Might have got him as far as we can. Can’t see him doing shit in the fights this week. Don’t got the kill in him.”
“I’ll get him there,” Liam said out loud, and he swore it internally to himself.
Yes, he wanted Jones gone, but he would be sure to use him first.
Later that afternoon saw them out by the fighting ring, Liam in the middle addressing the recruits.
“How do you learn to kill? How do you find what it takes to take a life? A warrior finds the rage inside! A warrior must embrace the kill! Now, who’s feeling brave?” Liam asked, looking around at the recruits.
When no one immediately volunteered, he zeroed his gaze on Cope.
“Cope!” he commanded, and Cope looked at him in surprise before coming to him as he was told.
“I will now demonstrate on Recruit Cope how to use an opponent's body weight against them. Recruit Cope will strike first.”
Cope pulled himself up into a ready stance, albeit a weak one. He hesitated, his eyes darting up to look at Liam.
Fuck’s sake.
“I said, Recruit Cope will strike first,” Liam said sternly, pointedly.
Cope pulled his arm back to strike, and as he did so, Liam grabbed his fist and threw him to the ground effortlessly.
“This is what you don’t wanna be, ” Liam shouted, “a victim! If you can’t find the kill inside, it’s the end of the line.”
Cope struggled to his feet, and Liam watched him limp out of the ring, quickly burying the concern he felt for him and letting his desire to improve the boy win out.
The recruits moved into teams and began to practice for their fights. Liam found Jones and Cope practicing and went up to them, calling Jones to come away with him.
Once it was just the two of them, he turned to Jones.
“Show me your form,” he instructed, and Jones did so. “Jab. I know your secret. Cross.”
Jones looked up at him from where he was punching to look at Liam with suspicion.
“I know you want out. Jab.”
“That’s not a secret, sir,” Jones responded. “Everybody wants out of bootcamp.”
“Not like you do,” Liam replied. “You were at CRIP platoon under observation for a sleep disorder. Jab. Medical couldn’t confirm if it was real or if you were faking.”
“This recruit isn’t faking it, sir.”
“Hook, cross. Hook, cross. Hook, cross,” Liam drilled him, absorbing the impact of his blows in his palms. “You want a medical discharge? I can get you one. But first, I got an assignment for ya.”
* * *
Cam’s back was still horribly sore from where Sullivan had thrown him to the ground. And when Sullivan had pulled Jones aside, Cam couldn’t help but start getting antsy, concerned about what Sullivan had planned for him.
“What did Sullivan say?” Cam asked as Jones returned to the bunk. “He’s gonna mess with us, it’s what he always does.”
“Fuck Sullivan,” Jones replied.
Cam let it rest for the moment, but when he was on fire watch later that night, something kept eating at him.
The embodiment of his conscience appeared in front of him, doubt plain on his face.
“Something's off,” his conscience said.
“Yeah, something’s always off, it’s boot camp,” Cam said.
“You know what I mean, “ his conscience replied.
“More Sullivan mind games. Just like Jones said,” Cam dismissed.
“Yeah, Jones,” his conscience said skeptically, his doubt for the man’s character made apparent. “Mr. Everything’s-a-game. Problem with games, Cameron, is there’s a winner and a loser.”
It was something that stuck with Cam, and was still gnawing at him the next day when they made it back to the fighting ring.
Jones came up to him, looking both ways, before speaking to him.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but you were right. Sullivan’s messing with us. He’s gonna make us fight.”
“I told you!”
“He wants us to kick the shit out of each other. That’s his plan. Let’s not give him the satisfaction.”
“Okay, what do we do?” Cam asked.
“We make our own plan.”
Cam laughed.
“Nobody’s gonna believe I can kick the shit out of you, this isn’t Karate Kid.”
“All you have to do is not look like a chump,” Jones said. “You strike first. Get a good shot to my face. I’ll look like I’m mad. I’ll throw a right hook. You drop. Nice and clean.”
“I can’t pull the punch, he’ll know,” Cam protested.
“Then don’t,” Jones replied. “I can take it. Just be careful with my eyes. They’re pretty. You and me, remember?”
Cam wanted to believe him, so he allowed himself to do so.
But not ten minutes later, and he knew he’d been so very wrong.
Sullivan stepped out to the middle of the ring and called Cam and Jones forward.
“Kill,” he said, signaling the start of the fight.
Cam threw the first punch, but it never connected the way Jones said it would. Instead, Jones grabbed his fist and threw him to his back on the ground, not unlike Sullivan had done that first day.
Cam looked up at Jones in disbelief, hurt plain on his face.
“That’s not what you said.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Jones said. “Don’t be faggot about it.”
And then Cam saw red.
He heard every harsh word that had ever been directed at him, saw every bully flash through his mind. Cam knew instantly that this, this, was exactly what Sullivan had planned. He wanted Cam enraged, and enraged Cam was.
He turned to glare at Sullivan, fury evident on his face. Sullivan met his gaze with intensity and expectation, communicating permission. With that tacit approval, Cam launched himself to his feet and charged at Jones, throwing him against the wall. Jones turned around and threw Cope to the ground, and the two devolved into a tussle on the ground before Cam gained the upper hand.
He straddled Jones and threw down punch after punch to Jones’ face, the red behind his eyelids blurring with the red of the blood pouring from Jones’ face. Cam had completely lost control; the floodgates of his rage had been opened and he had no recourse to stop it.
Cam only regained awareness of himself moments later as he came to realize he was being held in place by Howitt and Sullivan.
What have I done?
Howitt hauled him away and he spent the afternoon waiting to be seen by the nurse. He stared absently down at his hands and the bruises that formed on his knuckles, unsure of who he even was anymore.
What had Sullivan been playing at? Why didn’t he stop me?
Cam felt unmoored, scared, and alone.
That night as he stared up at the bottom of Jones’ empty bunk, Cam ached for Sergeant Sullivan to come and tell him everything would be alright.
* * *
Liam knew he’d fucked up. While his plan for Cope to get in touch with his inner rage had succeeded, he’d failed him by allowing Cope to continue his assault way past the point of necessity, and he’d done it for the whole platoon to see.
He sat nursing a scotch in the local bar, feeling increasingly on edge. He was itching for a fight, and in the past this feeling had gotten him in trouble before. He toyed with the idea of calling Fajardo and asking her about the investigation, but he pushed the idea away.
Cope came to the forefront of his mind once again. Liam felt like shit as he imagined the way his face would be swollen and bruised by now, and Liam may as well have been the one who put them there.
Liam let out a deep sigh as he realized he’d likely hurt yet another person he cared about. With Aaron, Liam knew it was already too late. He’d been arrested, and he’d probably never forgive Liam for selling him out. But Cope… Cope was still here, and there was still a chance that Liam could make things right, or at least better than they were currently.
He debated ordering another drink but the thought of Cope being hurt and confused somewhere made him push the idea away. He kept seeing images of Cope thrown about by Jones, of his face as he realized Liam had planned for this all along, of his shock at Jones’ betrayal. He could see Cope’s rage behind his eyelids and knew that Cope was probably feeling just as scared and out of control as he was.
Just go be there for him, he told himself.
And with that, Liam paid his tab and left the bar, headed back to the barracks. He’d only had one drink so he was able to easily slip upstairs unnoticed and make his way to Cope’s bunk. He knelt down next to Cope and reached out to shake him gently awake.
Cope’s eyes blinked open and surprise quickly took over.
“Come with me, Cope,” Liam whispered, turning on his heel and leading the way out of the barracks and back to his personal room. Cope followed quietly, not saying a word until the door had shut behind them in Liam’s room. Liam turned to Cope, about to say something, but instead the breath was knocked out of him as Cope shoved him, hard.
“You asshole,” Cope hissed, shoving Liam again, but Liam barely moved, much to Cope’s consternation.
“You fucking asshole, I cannot believe you did that to me,” Cope said, bringing his fist up in an attempt to punch Liam, but it so pathetically telegraphed what he was about to do that Liam caught his fist and spun him around, holding the fist behind Cope’s back.
“Breathe, Cope,” Liam commanded quietly, leaning in to speak next to Cope’s ear. “I know. I know you’re angry. Calm down, and we’ll talk.”
Cope didn’t respond but after a minute, his shoulders loosened and Liam let his wrist go. Cope turned around to glare at him.
Liam pulled out the chair at his desk and pointed at it.
“Sit.”
Cope sat.
Liam left Cope there and busied himself with running a rag under warm water and grabbing his first aid kit. When he returned to Cope’s side, he knelt down on one knee beside him and slowly brought the wet rag up to Cope’s face, who jerked it aside. But after a stern look from Liam, Cope relaxed and allowed Liam to dab at the dried blood around his eyes and cheeks.
“They already cleaned my wounds,” Cope protested weakly.
“Hush,” Liam said softly.
Cope’s eyes flickered up to meet his, blue meeting blue, but he didn’t say anything else. He just let Liam tend to his wounds for the next several minutes in silence.
Liam found that tending Cope’s wounds was soothing to him. He dragged the task on as long as he could, suddenly finding himself loath to let go of Cope’s face and move away from the way his blue eyes looked up at him with such trust and also suspicion. Cope saw Liam for the contradiction he was, and he found that he appreciated that.
Cope was looking at him expectantly, so Liam pulled himself off of his knee and sat down on the edge of his bed to look Cope in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Cope,” he said, voice gruff as if the apology physically hurt him. “I know you’re pissed at me, but you have to know I was only trying to make you stronger. Prepare you for… what’s out there.”
Liam thought he saw understanding in Cope’s eyes before there was a flash of anger that replaced it.
“You should have stopped me,” Cope ground out between gritted teeth. “I’m not even mad about you egging me on, I’ve gotten used to that, but what I am mad about is that you weren’t there to catch me when I let go.”
The words came as a shock to Liam. Cope’s words showed an incredible amount of maturity, not only in age, but as a Marine.
And what’s worse, Cope was right.
Liam licked his lips and swallowed over the guilt sitting like a rock in his throat.
“That… You’re right, Cope. You’re right,” Liam said, clearing his throat before forcing himself to meet Cope’s determined gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry for that.”
“I trusted you,” Cope said hotly, tears welling along the bottoms of his eyes. “Jones even gave me a heads up that you were fucking with us, but I still trusted you. I knew that even if you were, you had a good reason, and that you’d be there to see me through it, just as you’ve done for me in the past.”
Cope stood up then, walking towards Liam and standing in front of him close enough that Liam had to lean back a bit to be able to look up at him properly.
“But when I lost control, you weren’t there to reel me in. I needed you, Sir, and you weren’t there.”
Liam found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
* * *
Sullivan let his head fall as he broke eye contact with Cam and fixated on the floor instead. Cam watched the way Sullivan’s shoulders fell and he knew then that Sullivan had let himself down just as much as he’d let Cam down.
“I know,” Sullivan said at last, so quietly that Cam could barely hear it. “I should have pulled you off of him, I know it.”
Cam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Then why didn’t you?” he asked.
Sullivan looked up at him then, looking vulnerable in a way Cam had never seen before.
“I got lost in it, too,” Sullivan said after a very long moment, his gaze intense and earnest.
“Why?” Cam asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
“You’re not stupid,” Sullivan said in lieu of a direct answer. After a moment of Cam’s continued gaze, he provided more. “Your fight is my fight. We are not so dissimilar, you and I. I saw myself in you, and I wanted you to win. I wanted to triumph so completely, so fully, that no one would ever mess with you again. I watched you claim your fucking place, and it was beautiful.”
Cam’s breath caught in his throat.
“Thank you, Sir,” he said breathlessly.
Sullivan only looked up at him, his eyes wide and almost uncertain as they waded into uncharted territory. The energy in the room shifted, the tension between them sparking with electricity, the silence deafening.
“You, uh,” Sullivan said, licking his lips and clearing his throat, “you should return to your barracks.”
Cam looked at him thoughtfully, taking in his dilated pupils, thinking about the way he’d touched Cam’s face so tenderly, about the depth of emotional connection they’d just shared.
Cam was 99.9% sure what he was going to do next was a safe bet.
Cam closed the half-foot of distance left between them and bent down to capture Sullivan’s lips in a kiss.
Sullivan didn’t respond at first, but rather just sat there frozen. After an awkward moment, Cam began to pull back. As he did so, he met Sullivan’s eyes, which conveyed shock but obvious desire. To Cam’s relief (and delight), Sullivan gripped the back of Cam’s neck and pulled him back in, crashing his lips against his.
“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Sullivan rasped when they pulled apart to catch their breath. “You always fucking around me everywhere I looked, so insistently needing my firm hand to guide you.”
“Fuck, when you say it like that,” Cam gasped as his arousal hit him like a brick wall. Cam took a shaky breath.
“Sir, I want you to claim me the same way you watched me claim my place earlier.”
Sullivan’s eyes darkened and he swore under his breath. He looked up at Cam and shook his head.
“Cope, you can’t just fucking say things like that to me. But fuck I want that,” Sullivan said, pulling himself off the bed to stand at his full height, towering over Cam. Cam swallowed nervously as he looked up at the older man, suddenly scared of what he just got himself into.
“I’ll give you one last chance to get out of here, Cope, but if you stay, I’m fucking you so hard I’ll have to write you a medical release for the next week.”
Oh, god, yes please.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sir,” Cam said determinedly.
“You sure?” Sullivan asked gruffly, his steely softness creeping in. “Cope, there is absolutely zero obligation to stay and if you say no, I will not treat you any differently and your time here will not be impacted.”
“I understand, Sir,” Cam said with a smile. Then, softly, “I want it, too.”
Sullivan took a deep breath in response to that before nodding.
“Alright,” he said. “You say stop at any point, and we stop, okay?”
Cam nodded vigorously.
Sullivan hooked a finger under Cam’s chin and held it in place as he spoke to him.
“I have three rules. Number one, you will call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Daddy’ at all times. Number two, you won’t try to keep yourself quiet; I want to hear those pretty noises you’ll make for me. And number three, you ask me for permission to come. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Cam said weakly, hardly able to believe that this was his life right now.
“Good boy,” Sullivan said with a nod, sliding his fingers from Cam’s chin to the side of his face, cupping his cheek and leaning in to capture Cam in a kiss.
Cam returned the kiss immediately and when he felt Sullivan’s tongue seeking entrance, he yielded to him and moaned as Sullivan thrust his tongue roughly into Cam’s mouth, claiming him for his own.
Sullivan pulled back after a moment and fixed Cam with a hard stare.
“Did Jones touch you at all?”
Cam blinked in surprise at the question.
“N-no, Sir.”
Sullivan narrowed his eyes.
“That day in the woods…?”
“We just talked, Sir, I promise. We never… did anything.”
“Good,” Sullivan all but growled.
Cam smiled widely as realization dawned on him.
“You’re jealous,” Cam said. “You’re jealous of Jones. Is that why you hate him so much?”
Sullivan glared at Cam and Cam watched the muscle tick in Sullivan’s jaw with pleasure.
“Among other other things,” Sullivan ground out. Sullivan stepped forward and wrapped a thick hand around the bottom of Cam’s neck, his thumb resting at the base of Cam’s throat.
“You’re mine,” Sullivan said, his voice dripping with possessiveness.
Cam loved it.
He nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m yours,” he agreed.
“Hmm,” Sullivan hummed in satisfaction. “Show me, yeah? Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Oh, fuck, yes,” Cam groaned, dropping to his knees for him.
Cam raised his hands to unbuckle Sullivan’s belt and slowly lowered his fatigues, and then his underwear, until the Sergeant’s cock sprang free. Sullivan was (unsurprisingly) large, with a girth that made Cam nervous.
Cam reached up and stroked Sullivan to full length.
“Open up,” Sullivan commanded softly. Cam did so and Sullivan pushed his cock slowly inside Cam’s mouth.
“Good boy,” Sullivan praised, which made Cam moan around the cock in his mouth. The vibration made Sullivan curse quietly as he pushed further in, going until Cam gagged.
“It’s alright, just relax your throat, breathe through your nose,” Sullivan instructed. “Let me in.”
Cam did as he said and was rewarded with two more inches of Sullivan’s cock.
“That’s right, just like that,” Sullivan encouraged, moving his hips to fuck into Cam’s mouth.
Cam looked up at Sullivan and Sullivan swore under his breath.
“Fuck, Cope, you look so pretty on your knees for me.”
Cam moaned in response and Sullivan’s breathing became irregular and he had to pull out to prevent himself from coming.
“Alright, Cope, get out of those clothes. Then, on your back on the bed, legs spread for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” Cam replied, stripping out of his clothes and hurrying to the bed, not even caring if he looked overeager. He watched as Sullivan removed the rest of his clothes and couldn’t help but gape at how toned he was, and how bad he wanted the older man holding him down as he fucked him.
“Scoot down to the edge of the bed,” Sullivan told him, and Cam did so, which gave Sullivan better access since they were working with a twin size mattress.
Sullivan wrapped his large hand around Cam’s cock, pulling and squeezing and twisting in a way that quickly had Cam breathing heavily with the effort not to come. Sullivan gave him a knowing look and extracted a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer, liberally coating his fingers before coaxing himself inside Cam’s entrance.
To help Cam relax through the process, Sullivan sucked his cock earnestly as he worked his fingers inside slowly, methodically, and with the precision befitting a Marine.
When Cam had loosened up enough, Sullivan had him move further up the bed and turn over onto his stomach. Sullivan climbed up behind him and knelt in between his legs. He wrapped his cock in hand and rubbed it over Cam’s entrance teasingly.
Cam wiggled his hips, seeking friction, but Sullivan’s free hand shot out to hold him down.
“You want my cock, Cope?”
“Yes, Sir!” Cam responded.
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please, Sir, please fuck me,” Cam begged.
“Good boy,” Sullivan praised as he slowly worked his cock inside Cam, massaging his hips and leaning over to kiss up his shoulder and neck to get him to relax further.
“You’re doing so good, taking me so well,” Sullivan murmured against Cam’s ear.
“Yessss, Daddy,” Cam moaned, not even cognizant of what he’d said.
But Sullivan certainly heard it, and he groaned appreciatively in response, snapping his hips in a thrust to push further inside of Cam.
“That’s right, baby.”
After a few more minutes, Sullivan bottomed out and Cam was comfortable enough for Sullivan to start fucking him with purpose. Soon, the sound of skin slapping on skin and a mixture of moans and grunts filled the room.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Sullivan said, tightening his grip on Cam’s waist as he slammed into him again and again.
“Sir! Sir, I’m going to–”
“No, you’re not,” Sullivan said sharply, reaching around to clamp down at the base of Cam’s cock and stave off his orgasm.
“I want to see you,” Sullivan said softly, pulling out slowly and encouraging Cam to turn over onto his back. Sullivan worked himself back inside Cam and then grabbed both of Cam’s wrists, lifting them above Cam’s head and pinning them to the bed with his hands.
Sullivan picked up his pace and fucked Cam deeply, pushing up against Cam’s prostate with maddening accuracy.
Sullivan bent forward and kissed Cam earnestly, holding his wrists tightly as he fucked inside him. When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against Cam’s and began to utter sweet nothings to him.
“That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well for me. You take my cock so well, you feel so good. You make such pretty noises for me.”
“Oh, fuck, Daddy! Sir, I’m going to– please, may I come, Sir?” Cam cried.
“Yes, fuck yes, come for me, Cope,” Sullivan responded. With permission granted, Cam came untouched, which only seemed to drive Sullivan crazy. One, two thrusts more and Sullivan, too, was coming, buried deep within Cam.
After a moment, Sullivan pulled out and collapsed down next to Cam. He held an arm up and Cam immediately clung to the older man’s chest, burying his face in the crook of Sullivan’s neck.
Sullivan ran his hand up and down Cam’s back and pulled Cam closer to him. He turned his head and planted a kiss on Cam’s forehead.
“That was…” began Cam before trailing off.
“Yeah,” finished Sullivan.
Sullivan turned his head to look at Cam eye-to-eye.
“You’re mine, and mine only now, yeah?”
Cam smiled back at him fondly.
“Yes, Sir.”
Sullivan smiled back at him and sealed their agreement with a kiss.