Desperate Times, Desperate Measures...
[Locked from ki2k]
It had been so long ago, now. But he still thought and dreamed of it sometimes.
As he lay on the sofa, half-asleep, bare to the waist he thought about it.
"That shoulder still bothering you, Carl?" Michael asked his bunkmate, looking up from the gun he was cleaning. Carl was rubbing as his right shoulder, the shoulder that had been dislocated and then forcibly re-located earlier in the week. Carl was wearing an expression of mild discomfort, which in Carl terms, meant he was in agony.
"Yeah," He said finally, grudgingly, hiding his dark eyes from Michael's view. Michael set his gun down.
"Want me to see what I can do about it?" Michael offered, his voice neutral. Carl considered this for a while, left hand still absently rubbing his shoulder, finally he sighed,
"Sure."
Michael smiled and reached down onto his table for a bottle of sun lotion. It wasn't massage oil, but it was the best he could do. Michael was far from being a massage therapist, but he'd had enough training in self defence and martial arts to know what each muscle did and how it was supposed to feel.
"Take your shirt off, willya?" He said, squeezing a generous dollop of lotion into his hands and warming it for a moment. Carl stripped to the waist and sat down on Michael's cot. Michael reached out and pressed his fingers into Carl's well-muscled back. Straight away he could feel the knots of tension, like steel ropes winding across his shoulder blades. No wonder he was in pain. Michael dug his fingers in, trying to ease some of that tension.
"Shit!" Carl gasped as Michael's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. Michael paused immediately,
"You ok?"
"Yeah," Carl said, exhaling slowly, "If it ain't hurtin' it ain't workin'. Carry on."
Michael continued, and after a while, he could feel the tension in the muscles slowly dissolving, and could hear Carl's soft grunts of pain turn nto sighs of pleasure.
"Mmm, dude, you could do this for money." Carl said.
Michael chuckled softly, "I might do that. Nice little sideline...assuming that I could get any customers."
Carl grinned, "I'd pay you..."
Michael dropped his hands suddenly, "Carl..." he began, but Carl turned around, and the look in his deep eyes made whatever Michael was about to say die in his throat. Carl held up one well-tanned hand, the one with the burn scar across the back of it,
"Hey now, no pressure. If you prefer the girls in town..."
Michael made a face, "No way. I know what some of those girls have got. I like my dick the shape and colour it is."
Carl smiled, his usual warm, friendly smile that lit up his face.
"You're a passionate man, Michael," He said, "And I don't mind tellin' you that so am I."
There was a long pause as Michael stared at his friend. His close, trusted friend. The friend who had saved his life on god-alone knew how many occassions in this God-forsaken country. His friend who was offering...what? Comfort? Release? Did it matter?
Finally, Michael nodded.
Carl smiled and reached out to undo the buttons on Michael's shirt...
Carl hadn't made it out of 'Nam alive. And Michael had never told a single soul about what had passed between them.
'Don't ask, don't tell' indeed...
Carl had been there when he had needed him.
Like Kitt.
Ehhh...don't go there...
Michael closed his eyes, but couldn't escape the image of Carl's smiling face.
It had been so long ago, now. But he still thought and dreamed of it sometimes.
As he lay on the sofa, half-asleep, bare to the waist he thought about it.
"That shoulder still bothering you, Carl?" Michael asked his bunkmate, looking up from the gun he was cleaning. Carl was rubbing as his right shoulder, the shoulder that had been dislocated and then forcibly re-located earlier in the week. Carl was wearing an expression of mild discomfort, which in Carl terms, meant he was in agony.
"Yeah," He said finally, grudgingly, hiding his dark eyes from Michael's view. Michael set his gun down.
"Want me to see what I can do about it?" Michael offered, his voice neutral. Carl considered this for a while, left hand still absently rubbing his shoulder, finally he sighed,
"Sure."
Michael smiled and reached down onto his table for a bottle of sun lotion. It wasn't massage oil, but it was the best he could do. Michael was far from being a massage therapist, but he'd had enough training in self defence and martial arts to know what each muscle did and how it was supposed to feel.
"Take your shirt off, willya?" He said, squeezing a generous dollop of lotion into his hands and warming it for a moment. Carl stripped to the waist and sat down on Michael's cot. Michael reached out and pressed his fingers into Carl's well-muscled back. Straight away he could feel the knots of tension, like steel ropes winding across his shoulder blades. No wonder he was in pain. Michael dug his fingers in, trying to ease some of that tension.
"Shit!" Carl gasped as Michael's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. Michael paused immediately,
"You ok?"
"Yeah," Carl said, exhaling slowly, "If it ain't hurtin' it ain't workin'. Carry on."
Michael continued, and after a while, he could feel the tension in the muscles slowly dissolving, and could hear Carl's soft grunts of pain turn nto sighs of pleasure.
"Mmm, dude, you could do this for money." Carl said.
Michael chuckled softly, "I might do that. Nice little sideline...assuming that I could get any customers."
Carl grinned, "I'd pay you..."
Michael dropped his hands suddenly, "Carl..." he began, but Carl turned around, and the look in his deep eyes made whatever Michael was about to say die in his throat. Carl held up one well-tanned hand, the one with the burn scar across the back of it,
"Hey now, no pressure. If you prefer the girls in town..."
Michael made a face, "No way. I know what some of those girls have got. I like my dick the shape and colour it is."
Carl smiled, his usual warm, friendly smile that lit up his face.
"You're a passionate man, Michael," He said, "And I don't mind tellin' you that so am I."
There was a long pause as Michael stared at his friend. His close, trusted friend. The friend who had saved his life on god-alone knew how many occassions in this God-forsaken country. His friend who was offering...what? Comfort? Release? Did it matter?
Finally, Michael nodded.
Carl smiled and reached out to undo the buttons on Michael's shirt...
Carl hadn't made it out of 'Nam alive. And Michael had never told a single soul about what had passed between them.
'Don't ask, don't tell' indeed...
Carl had been there when he had needed him.
Like Kitt.
Ehhh...don't go there...
Michael closed his eyes, but couldn't escape the image of Carl's smiling face.