Agents Universe

Before reading this, first read
Police Incident
Police Rescue
Protection Duty
Unit Cohesion
Police Ambush

This story takes place during the THE MINNEAPOLIS AFFAIR

10:45 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: Afghanistan was always hot during the day, and always freezing during the night, which was not a great combination. I'd been here for the last few months working with the rest of my SAS unit working covert operations in the mountains.

Some other nationalities were here as well, Italians, French, Australians, a couple of really nice Canadians, and some Americans - so I was very well used to working on Joint Operations, I didn't LIKE Joint Operations, as I never liked working outside my own unit, I didn't even like other British military as they weren't up to the standards of the SAS, but they were a necessity. Even within the SAS I trusted my four man troop more than anyone else, I'd trust them with my life and more. I'd been the best man at Barry's wedding, I'd been an usher at Tommy's wedding and at his divorce and at his second wedding and second divorce, and Wayne never stayed with a girl more than one night. Me, I didn't stay with people that long either, I'm a one night stand type of person, I dare say I'd get married at some point, and probably divorced before the end of the next week.

I stood in the makeshift shower letting the water run over my body, before towelling off and getting dressed in a fresh desert combat uniform, and did up my boots and headed off to go and meet the people who I'd be doing the next Joint Operation with. Apparently they had beer, which was a good thing in their favour. The Americans Rangers were a lot better than some of the other countries as like the SAS they partied hard and fought hard. They were meant to be a good fighting force, and I'd seen them and they were half-decent which was better than most guys out here.

I adjusted my tan coloured beret with the SAS logo on the front, making sure it was square on my head and headed out to go and meet the Americans.

11:42 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I let out a deep sigh of relief, and reached back to massage my thick traps, trying to relieve the tension. I’d spent a few hours already in the mission briefing, mapping out every detail of tomorrow’s mission. It had been exhausting, no matter how necessary. I’m simply not a desk man. I can handle myself in a combat situation for hours at a time, focusing and navigating my way through a difficult situation with my hard-trained Ranger body, my razor sharp mind, and my superbly trained combat skills, feeling fresh and ready for more at the end. But put me at a table for hours on end, and my muscles tensed up like a wound up spring.

Of course, some of the tension stemmed from the urgency of this particular mission. Finally, after an intense effort, American intelligence had located the hiding place of the notorious terrorist, Eli Jacobson. With a degree of sophistication, planning, and thoroughness that had baffled both the brightest investigators within the CIA and MI6, the radical anarchist, acting from an intense ideological conviction that the only solution for the world’s woes was the complete destruction of the existing order, had managed to carry out a coordinated terrorist action simultaneously in both Washington DC and London. The death toll had been horrific, over 1000 dead in Washington, and nearly 5000 dead in London. As both nations reeled from the impact, authorities had scrambled madly to track down the perpetrators.

Eli had led the authorities through a dizzying chase filled with false leads, fake breakthroughs, misleading forensics, and countless other dodges. He had planned just as carefully for the inevitable investigation as he had for the actual explosions which had killed so many innocents.

But finally, he had been located. He was currently located in a compound in Afghanistan. The problem was that he would be moving to a new location the day after tomorrow, and not even the asset knew where that would be. This had required a mission to be assembled and prepared at breakneck speeds.

So, the big higher ups had rapidly organized a Joint Task Force, consisting of a squad of American Army Rangers, that’s yours truly, and some SAS lads, along with other allies who were in the area, Italians, French, Australians, Canadians. But our main partners would be the Brits. I had tons of respect for the SAS. I’d worked with them before, it was here in Afghanistan that I’d met Aaron Mitchell, a Para at the time, and one of my very best friends, but he left the Paras to become a Copper. Just a few months ago, I’d rescued him from the notorious Derek Steel. I’d take a bullet for him, and I’d hoped that maybe something might … happen between us. I wasn’t really the marrying kind, but for Aaron, I might have made an exception. I was even ready to take a posting to London to explore the possibility, except the situation with the Syndicate got a lot hotter, than this whacko Eli had entered the scene, and my skills were needed elsewhere. Besides, Aaron had met up with Jason, an NYPD Cop I’d known since we were kids, and apparently they had hit it off even more than we had. I was happy for them both, and I’d take a bullet for either one of them without hesitation. Something pretty savage had happened to Jason, but I hadn’t had a chance to get the details, since I’d been deeply involved in the manhunt for Eli.

Quite simply, I’d been chosen, because I’m the fucking best. I fucking love my job. I’d got the chance to play with fancy toys, hunt down the bad guys, keep in top shape, and fight. I was born for this job, at 250lbs and 6’ tall, I’d loaded my body down with thick, powerful All-American battle-tested muscle and used it at every chance I got. As an elite Army Ranger, the toughest, baddest Special Forces division in the whole fucking world, my skills in stealth, infiltration, asset protection and acquisition, marksmanship, interrogation, and hand-to-hand combat have been built up over a long career. I’m at the top of my game, and I’ve proven it..

Finally, the briefing ended, and everything was ready to be set in motion. The plan was that myself and my SAS counterpart, Sergeant Mark Christopher, would make the actual extraction. The rest of our international squad would launch a diversionary attack to draw away the rest of the terrorist shitbags guarding Eli. Then, together, we would return him here to the barracks. But that was all tomorrow’s problem. Right now, I am in serious need of some R&R. And beer. Me and my men had brought two kegs, as a peace offering. Those SAS bastards could be pretty prickly and thick-skinned. I knew that first hand. Probably had something to do with the fact that they knew they weren’t as good as us Johnny Come Lately Yanks. But beer went a long way towards building bridges.

Fuck, it was hot here. The heat always made me sweat like a pig. But right now, my mind was not focused on the heat, instead, I was thinking about Mark. I’d never met the man before, but when we’d shook hands at the start of the briefing, I felt the electricity leap between our rock solid grips. The strong surge of attraction for the stud was instant.

The rest of the meeting, I’d found myself surreptitiously checking him out, he had some hard, lean muscle, stood with confidence, was handsome as a new day. He had this quality about him that simply made me want to fuck him up the ass.

I entered the big tent that had been set up to host me and the other Rangers, Roger Travers, Max Thompson, Bill McKaine, and Timothy Phillips. We’d gelled well together over the years, and every single one of them had earned my respect and affection. We were all honorary uncles to each other’s kids, well except I didn’t have any, but the others didn’t mind. I made up for it in other ways. I scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail, a long formed habit. Then, I felt a jolt shiver up my spine as I caught sight of the man himself, Sgt. Mark Christopher seated at table, already attacking the beer. He moved fast. I grinned, grabbed some beer, and moved to join him.

After all, we would be working together tomorrow, and I figured this was an ideal time to find out some more about the man that was going to be watching my back. I adjusted my tan beret, and wearing my desert camo top, fatigues, and combat boots, minus the few extra hundred pounds of combat gear I’d be wearing tomorrow, I settled down next to him, and spoke up, “Never get between a Brit and his beer. Words to live by.” I grinned over at Mark, and took a big swig. Fuck. What a man.

12:03 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I looked up, checking him from top to bottom as I did. "You must be Lieutenant Armstrong," I nodded to the other SAS guys in the room. "This is Tommy, Barry, Wayne and I'm Mark."

"We use first names, or Trooper O'Keefe, Trooper Thomas, Trooper McNally and I'm Sergeant Christopher. Either is fine. We will address each other by our first names because that's what we do."

"We don't say sir, and we don't salute non SAS officers," I say rather matter of factly. "When we're out there, we're there to do a job, and we should all know what our jobs are, not pandering to the fact that there is a hierarchical structure in place that some officers thing should be followed. Currently we're the first and second best special forces regiments on the planets, no matter what the US Marines and Royal Marines say, so I imagine you can't be fucking arsed with that protocol crap either."

"If you're good with all of that, you can have a beer." I smile.

"If you're not good with that, you can fuck off, and have a beer somewhere else."

"And if you're so uptight to require me to add, sir, at the end of that sentence, you can assume I said 'you can fuck right off, sir'.. and then fuck right off."

Apparantly the Brit was a fan of saying things like they were rather than sugar coating things.

12:26 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: As I take a swig of my beer, I listen to the sudden torrent of words that flood out from Sgt. Mark Christopher. Talk about being prickly. I get him right away. He doesn't have a lot of time for officers, and I'm an officer. Of course, the SAS doesn't usually send their officers out on field work, but it's an entirely different kettle of fish for us Rangers. We are expected to be as well versed in the duties of leadership as we are combat skills.

I had to draw heavily on those leadership skills just now in order to keep from laughing in this prickly fucker's face.

I hear some footsteps behind me as I put my beer down, and realize that I've just been joined by the rest of my squad. I grin at Mark, and look behind me,

"What I am good with is beer." I raise my glass of brew, and continue, "And what I'm good with is serving with a man who knows his job. You can trust me and my men to know our jobs. And if I didn't trust you and your men to know your job, I wouldn't be here in the first place. After all, as you say, we are the first and second best special forces regiments on the planet. No Marines of any flavor were harmed in the issuance of that statement, but they probably were pretty pissed off." As the men chuckle, I look behind me, and point out each of my squad in turn. "We use first names as well, this is Roger , Max , Bill , and Timothy. Boys, grab a beer and join us, just make sure not to accidentally call anyone here sir or give them a salute. You really don't want to be the ones responsible for voiding my beer privileges." I wink at Mark.

12:38 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I stand up and smile at the others, "Nice to meet the second best special forces regiment on the planet," I say at them and nod to my team behind me on the tables. "Have a seat... and a good night... to quote the Romans... drink and be merry for tomorrow you may die."

"I think it was the Romans, could have been some random crap TV Show."

I sit back down and look at David. "Where in the US are you from? I only know there's Southern Rednecks, Northern Farmers, Eastern Politicians and Western Surfers. That's the limit of what I know. I'm from Manchester, we're Northern, we say what we think, and we don't give a crap what people think about us."

I slide over and grab another beer. "Looking at the fact that you've got arms the same size as my fucking legs, I'd say Farmer...." I flex my own muscled arm. "I have to work on it... you look like you just were born like that."

I wink as I laugh. "But we're here for the same reason, and it's to get a fucker that killed thousands of our people... and I'd work with the fucking Canadians if it meant I got him.... and they just smile politely at people, I don't think they even have special forces."

13:10 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Some of my men's faces get a little strained at that comment about second best, but I'd coached them well, asked them not to start the dick waving contests until after the mission was over. We all knew that we were the best, so there wasn't any point in upsetting our second-best allies from across the pond, at least not before the mission.

As Mark sits down again, and my men start to mingle with his, I take in his question, casually flexing my bicep. Even through my desert combat top, the bicep puts a bit of a strain on the seams. I catch his eyes on my arm, and grin. I think, if I'm reading the signs correctly, Sgt. Mark Christopher and I had more in common than I'd first realized. I catch sight of his own arm as it flexes. Damn. My cock twitched at that. He wasn't as big as I was, but he was lean, and cut. Hard bodied. Just how I liked it. His own uniform didn't do a very good job of hiding it, rather it accentuated it.

I chuckle, responding, "Damn, you sure you aren't American? I know we've got a reputation for ignorance outside our own borders, but hell, I think you've just taken the prize."

I grab another beer, "Turns out, my fine Mancunian friend, I'm from New York State. I did in fact grow up on a farm, but believe me, this don't come for free." I flex my bicep again, grinning, flirting with this hot piece of shit for all I'm worth, "I train hard, just as hard as you. I just got that red-blooded All-American genetics on my side, is all. "

I laugh back, "Well, the Canadians got JTF-2, but there is a reason you've probably never heard of them. I lost some friends in DC when the bastard Eli pulled his batshit crazy crap, and I'm looking forward to personally paying him back. Of course, the fucking shit-talking politicos have made it clear that he is not to be killed so he can "stand trial". I mean, fuck, your people and my people haven't even come to an agreement on whether he'll be tried in the UK or the US. Personally, I'd just rather put a bullet through his head. Job done. Those bastards fuck everything up."

I look over at Mark with a sly twinkle in my eye, the beer starting to definitely make me feel a bit ... bolder, "But one thing they got right... pairing us up. They could have paired me up with some soft-spoken ultra posh dog-ugly British 'gentleman'. At least with you, I don't have to keep my lunch down every time I get a sight of your mug. Hard, tough as nails, no bullshit, fit as fuck, I could do a lot worse than having you watch my back tomorrow."

13:25 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "I know you have those American genes, but honestly you've done really well despite them." I laugh and wipe the corner of my mouth slightly as I look at your biceps. "I just work hard, you'd be surprised what it takes to stay this fit."

His face looked more annoyed at the turn of the conversation to Eli. "Yeah I'm of the same feeling, we've been given the same instructions, he's to be taken alive, which is slightly less my idea of fun, I thought someone had made a typo on the orders, but that's not true. He should just be Osama Bin Laden'd and never make it back home... but nope, that's not what the officers want, therefore it's not what we have to do."

I took a swig of the beer. "Yeah well I had been hoping for a well trained Ranger Sergeant, maybe from the midwest, but I have to have a well trained Ranger Lieutenant from New York State... yeah it's not as bad as it could have been... could have had some Marine from Los Angeles who surfs for fun. That would have been fucking terrible."

"Well you watch my back, and I'll watch yours," I look down at your arse as I say this and look back up at your face. "I think we're on the same page about tomorrow. That guy deserves to die... I'll let my guys know, if you let your guys know, it's not about what we want... it's about what we've been told to do. No stray bullets..."

I grab another two beers and pass one over. "Come on, Farm boy, I'll show you the gear we've been sent for tomorrow," and stand up and nod towards the door heading to another set of buildings across the courtyard.

13:48 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: "Don't worry Sergeant, I know my duty. No stray bullets. Besides, if everything goes to plan, you and I are the only ones that get our hands on Eli."

Mark gets up then, to grab two more beers, and as he turns away, i get a fine look at that hard SAS ass. My cock grows another inch. "Deal. You watch my back, and I'll sure as fucking hell watch yours." Fuck ME. That ass will be watched like a hawk.

I grab the beer Mark passes me, with a smile wide enough to reach my ears. Yeah, I was certain now, our British hard man and I definitely had a penchant for hard men and hard dicks in common.

I take a sip of the beer he'd gifted to me, and got up, leaving my men to mingle with his while I followed him out to check out his ... equipment.

I follow him through the door, and across the courtyard. Night was falling, and the stars were out. I felt a buzz, not only from the beer, but from the prospect of something just as satisfying. As we crossed the courtyard to the other side of the compound, we entered a dark, deserted passage between two buildings, that's when I suddenly twisted, and pushed Sgt. Mark Christopher up against the wall of the building with my free hand, my forearm grinding into his hard-muscled chest. I took a sip of my beer, and whispered in his ear.

"You are one fucking hot as shit soldier, Sgt. Like you Mancunians, us New Yorkers like to tell it how it fucking is." My crotch is shoved up against his thigh as I lean in, and my massive erection is clearly obvious.
13:54 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I grab your arm, happy from the beer, and my own cock is hard in my desert cammo's as I look at you.

"Not here... my men don't fucking know that I like cock, I don't advertise it.. but you're fucking obvious... I saw how fucking hard you were talking to me.. Fuck you're good looking."

I pull away and head down to the end of the building and open the door into the weapon store and wait until you're inside and then close and lock the door. Surrounded by the weapons and ammo in nice neat rows on the shelves, inside a heavily barricaded room I put the beer down next to some grenades and look at you.

"Here's fine..."

I head over and press you back against the door before you've even had a chance to put your beer down and start kissing you roughly, my hands already heading down to your belt, apparently I'm not waiting around for things, and aren't into foreplay in any way.

"You're fucking hot as shit as well, fucking too right, ten weeks, no sex, bring it on yank..." I start kissing you again, completely clean shaven, rough, hard, and my cock right next to your leg feels massive through my trousers.

14:27 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I chuckle as Mark grabs my arm and voices his concerns. "Don't worry. I'm not about to fuck you in public. My men don't know either, well, at least, they don't ask and I don't tell. This was just a little .... testing of the waters."

I follow Mark, my cock even stiffer now that I've felt his own hard on, as he brushed against me. He leads us into the weapon store, and puts his beer down. I turn, to look for a spot to put my own beer down at, when I'm suddenly swarmed by the hard-assed SAS fucker.

I'm pressed against the door, Sgt. Mark handles my bigger frame as though I were a lightweight. Shit, he's strong, far stronger than a man his size has any right to be.

His hungry mouth is all over mine, and suddenly I'm kissing him rough and hard and deep, as his hands are down unclipping my tactical belt. This was my kind of man... direct, to the point, knows what he wants.

"Let's take care of that soldier. I want you on point tomorrow, not distracted by your dick. "

I'm so fucking horny. I've been on deployment for a month now, and that's a long time to keep a man from unloading his balls.

"You are hot. Hard muscled and hot as fuck." I reach down with my own hands, as I dive in to kiss him again, unclipping his tactical belt, and roughly pulling those desert fatigues down, along with his pants. I grab ahold of that thick British sausage in my hand, then hungry for the taste of dick, haven't had any since Aaron, I dropped down to my knees and swallowed Mark's manhood whole, driving it deep down into my throat in one swallow. I began to hungrily explore his hard cock with my tongue as I thrust my head up and down on that tasty shaft. My hands explored his ass, feeling those hard glutes with deep pleasure.

14:34 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: My ten inches slam into your throat and I slam into your mouth as you suck, it lifting my t-shirt off over my head and throwing that and my beret into a corner as I continue to thrust into your mouth. "Fuck, yes sir," I say... only a slight bit of sarcasm in my voice as I thrust into your throat.

I run my hands through your cropped hair and then take the back of your head pushing it more onto my cock, it's been ten weeks since I've had a guy, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of this.

"Fuck you only suck, or do you do more, I'm in the game for doing a bit more than just sucking, you know that..."

I pull my cock out and pull you up before kissing you roughly again, tracing your muscles through your uniform as I work your trousers and underwear down to the floor and I lean down and put your hard American cock in my mouth and with not a hint of gag, take it into my throat as I start working on it hard.

14:47 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I grunt as he lifts his top off, and tosses his beret away, my hands switching up from that SAS ass to that SAS body, glorying in the feel of each tightly muscled ab brick, tracing the sharp, hard lines of his powerful chest. Oh fuck, I'm in heaven as I slurp his cock for all I'm worth.

He knocks my beret off, then runs his hands through my hair, feels so goddamned good as he slams my mouth harder onto his meat. Then, he pulls his cock out, and stands, up and we kiss again, harder, with greater hunger.

The salty taste of his pre still in my mouth. He drops to his knees, and swallows my manhood, my eyes nearly rolling back from the pleasure, as he pulls my fatigues down to my ankles. I shrug off my desert uniform top, throw it aside, and pull off my t-shirt, exposing the thick beefsteak pecs, my massive biceps, and my hard, powerful gut.

I grab his head, as this SAS hard man takes my dick like a fucking champion, all 10", not gagging in the slightest. I grab the back of his head and slam him down on my shaft, then I moan, then in a hard tone of voice, growl down at him, "I want to fucking ream your hard SAS ass with my American cock, Mark. Think you can handle my American meat, you sexy fucking SAS bastard?"

I let him slurp on my dick, till I feel my balls start to buzz, then pull him up, twist and slam him against the door, shoving my thick, beefy torso against the lean, hard cut lines of his SAS trained muscle, as my dick swordfights with his. I kiss him sharp, hard and short, then stare into his eyes, "C'mon you fucking British hard man, think you can handle my shaft reaming out your ass?"

14:55 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: We're both matched evenly in the cock department and I look at you during a break from the kissing straight in the eyes. "I can take it... but I'm not fucking pansy, if I take your cock, you take mine, non negotiable."

"I'm not a fucking hole here for you to get your fucking pleasure out of, I want the fucking same, understand?" A lot of what I say comes across blunt but I'm just used to not mincing words.

"And you've got the fucking best body on the fucking base, so you better like taking cock as well, farm boy." I put my hands behind your neck and kiss you again, roughly.

"And I won't fucking hold back, none of this fucking gentle fucking, that's not how guys like us were made... or you going to be a fucking officer and demand I just suck your dick."

There's very little chance of just that happening as I grab your balls and squeeze them... slightly painfully... but more to get you to moan. I like that in a guy.

"Agree, sir, 10 inches of fucking SAS fuck tool in your arse, think you can fucking take that." I put my hands around your back and slap your fit muscular arse hard. "Think you can take it.... "

15:07 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: FUCK!! This SAS bastard pushes every single one of my goddamn buttons. He is my kind of man. He gives me the straight shit, not one ounce of subservience in this hot ass bastard as he kisses my neck again, threatening to break the skin. Hot damn.

I moan slightly, feeling his hard hand around my gonads. He's got a good grip on them. I respond, by reaching down and grabbing his own crown jewels with an equally fierce grip, and growling my response back. "You want a square deal, you fucking sexy bastard? My ass in exchange for yours. Consider it done. I'm gonna tear your ass up, and if you don't fucking rip mine up in return, then I guess what I've heard about you English is true after all... You can take it, but you can't dish it out." I grin evilly at this handsome, hot as fuck Mancunian. I release his balls, then get to business.

I don't hesitate, with an expert flip, I shove this SAS hard man face first against the door. I wrap my arms tight around his back, my hands savagely gripping those hard plated pecs of his, my mouth assaults his neck, and without any additional lube beyond his own spit, I begin to power drive my hard, thick meat deep up into his glorious SAS ass.

15:20 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I slam into the door. "FUCK YEAH... COME ON, SIR, FUCKING SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE FUCKING MADE OF." It's lucky this is an ammo store, it's heavily fortified, both against our very heavy muscled weight and none of the noise is getting to the outside.

I put one hand on the door and use it like I'm doing press-ups to slam back onto your cock as your thrust, in time with you, so I'm certainly not being a passive partner in all of this.

The other hand I put my hand behind me and around your back pushing my fingers into your back roughly. "Is that all you've got," I say between breaths. "Come on... I'm not one of your fucking new recruits, don't fucking hold back thinking you'll fucking hurt me."

I slam into the door again, and grunt. "Fucking bring it, sir." The sir's underline that I don't think officers are capable of bringing too much pleasure…

15:35 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Oh HELL YES, this SAS bastard can take it hard, deep, and rough as fuck. And I give it to him. He slams back against my dick, the heavy walls of the ammo store muffling the racket we are making. The bastard is actually driving backwards onto my cock pushing off the door as I drive it forward.

I think I'm in love. I brace my boots against the floor, and heave forward, thrusting deeper and harder, sweat starting to drip down my heavy, beefy muscle. I feel his hands digging into my back, as my own hands wrap like a vise around his torso, crushing and clawing all that gorgeous, lean hard muscle. i reach down and bite his bicep as he grabs my back, giving it to him harder, and harder.

I've found this fucker prostate, and I'm slamming it for all I'm worth, giving it to him like there ain't gonna be no goddamn tomorrow, cause, well in our line of work, there might not be. The whole time he is firing me up, egging me on to greater efforts. Finally, with a surge of lust and a roar, I reach down and cup his fuck ass and start lifting him up, my hard, thick muscles rippling with American Ranger might as I heave him up, his feet leaving the floor, and wedging myself forward, so my cock is directly beneath his ass.

Then, I let him drop down, sliding down the wall, so my fucking cock is impaling the sexy bastard, pushing up from the tips of my combat boots to meet him on the way down as he drops. Then I push him up again, and again, long dicking him in savage dropping thrusts, impaling his ass anew with each drop. I snarl in his ear, my voice thick and heavy with lust and camaraderie, "Watch it you fucking non-com, you keep throwing orders around like that, and you gonna find yourself promoted to an officer yourself... I'm gonna fucking rip your ass apart, you sexy British bastard..."

16:21 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "Not going to fucking happen... the officer part of it..." I say as I slam my boots against the door to get some purchase on the surface and then grab the top of the door frame so I'm also doing pull ups as you fuck me to get extra additional thrust down onto your cock.

I'm not backing down from any of it, and the rougher you fucker, the rougher I try and make it as well. "FUCKING GO FOR IT RANGER," I shout, my own cock bouncing against my stomach as I slam down onto your cock again.

"Rip it fucking apart if you can... ten inches.. doesn't feel like it right now... are you fucking trying as hard as you can, or just used to fucking pansies that can't take it."

"Fucking go for it you fucking farm boy hunt, fucking just go for it," obviously after ten weeks the British soldier was as horned up as he could possibly be. I groan heavily as I slam down onto your cock as you slam up into me. "You're fucking massive, this is fucking amazing, you fucking cowboy...." not of course really understanding that there weren't actually many cowboy's in New York State.

16:47 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I grunt with sadistic, deep, powerful pleasure as Sgt. Christopher matches my wild attempts to fuck him harder with equal fervor. Oh fuck, I'm in love!!!

He keeps egging me on, and I'm grinning insanely as I thrust in my 10 incher to the the max and beyond. He's nearly swallowing my goddamn balls I'm dropping him down so hard, he's pushing up off the door frame to slam in even harder.

"Take it, take it all, you English Mancunian cunt... " I drive it in more, harder, then, wanting to drill him with even more force, I toss the hot fucking English SAS stud down to the floor of the Ammo store, and mount him from behind, I fold him up so his hot, hard ass is pointing almost straight up, with my arms gripping his hard muscled ass, I drop down, using all 250 pounds of my hard, thick muscled elite Ranger body to power my heavy thrusts, upping the ante.

My balls are fucking boiling, and i'm slamming each dick-ripping driving thrust all the way to the fucking hilt and beyond, tearing up his prostate, and moaning with sheer pleasure, "Yeah, take it now fucker... take it all you goddman cocky assed hard-bodied SAS bastard... don't squirm, take it all, blow that British load for me fucker, c'mon, I wannna see how much you got in your crown jewels."

Feeling myself start to tense, my balls aching, wanting to dump that load right up his hard British ass.

17:03 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "No fucking way... no way am I going to shoot my load, not before I've rammed it in your arse... you fucking shoot, show me that fucking weapon unloading...

I claw the floor to slam back onto your cock, rough, hard, the grunts and moans are not ones of pain, or being unable to take the size, just of pure animalistic enjoyment.

"So fucking shoot it, come on, show me how you fucking fire a weapon properly."

"And if you think this is squirming," I say putting my legs into position and starting to do press ups right onto your cock, showing off the power in my arms as you slam down onto me, "Then you're fucking blind."

"Fucking cum, sir, I want to get some of that hot yank ass."

17:13 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I growl as I hear Mark refusing to blow his load. I have to admit, it's only fair, but FUCK... Now it makes me wish that I'd waited, and let him fuck me first.

The bastard... I slam him harder just for that, driving my Army Ranger fucktool up his hard ass, and then deliberately ramming it a bit to either side, and then slamming into his prostate in a series of short, savage, dick thrusts, grunting, "You fucking sexy bastard.."

He presses up right onto my cock, his muscles rippling and flexing, showing off that SAS strength of his. My balls boil, and then, with a sudden loud moan, I drive into him with a final savage thrust, and let my balls spasm,

My dick firing like a machine gun, loading up Mark's hot ass with my pent-up seed, bubbling and boiling, backflowing past my dick to drip down around his hot ass cheeks. I keep in there for about twenty seconds, letting each pulse fire. Then I rip out of him, staggering back against the door, catching my breath, dripping in sweat.

Despite having just shot, my cock is still at three quarter's mast. Looking at his sexy body has the lust already starting to rise up in my All-American manhood. I growl, "You mother fucking hard-fucking gorgeous British bastard."

17:20 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I don't even let you get back to the door, don't even let you catch your breath as I turn myself over so I'm lying on my back and lean forward and grab you and pull you back on top of me so you're mounted on top of me and I pull your sweaty body down on top of me as my 10 inch weapon slides into your ass, lubricated by the sheer amount of sweat and energy we've been working up.

"Come on, sir, don't fucking give up now, ride me like a fucking cowboy," as I slam in once and then put my hands behind my head to give me some leverage and then kick my boots against the door and then start to do reverse press ups, bringing my cock and abs up into your arse, lifting you off the ground as I did.. it's not as vigorous as you had towards the end, but it's clear that It's now my turn to start doing it.

I'm also grunting a lot more like this, as I'm basically lifting up your 250 lbs with just my core stomach muscles and putting my cock into your arse roughly every single time, showing off my muscles, showing off my strength as I'm doing so.

"Fuck you're heavy... all that fucking muscle, but fuck," I grunt and groan more as I continue to do these exercises as my cock slams into your ass with regularity. "fuck you're good, didn't think you'd be able to take it."

17:35 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: FUCK ME, this stud is one hell of fucking machine. Again, I'm in love... He doesn't even let me get my breath, pulling me down on top of him.

I grin, and drop my ass down on top of Mark's monster dick. He spears me in fucking two with that monster, and the pain and pleasure is fucking exquisite. I want more. Hungry for more. My own cock begins to stiffen again.

The SAS bastard shows off his brute strength, and like I saw before, he is way fucking stronger than any man his size has a right to be, bridging up off the floor, his goddamn sexy fucking abs turning harder than steel as he uses pure core strength to heave my 250 pounds of pure Ranger muscle up with each thrust.

FUCK YES!!! He is driving that dick deep up me. I spread my combat boots, to either side of his hard body, and lift slightly, letting my full 250 drop down as he's bridging up for each thrust, groaning as he fucking impales me with his man sword, and forcing his tough SAS core to bear my full plummeting 250 with each up thrust.

I grin down at him, "You are one fucking helluva strong son of a bitch, you bastard. I can take anything you can dish out, and then some. Bring it Sgt, come on.... tear me up, use that dick like you mean to own my fucking Ranger ass. Don't hold back on me, make me feel it."

My ass is on goddamn fire, burning like an inferno, the pain and pleasure all mixed up and driving me through the roof. I do believe.... I do believe that mother fucking sexy SAS power-packed cunt is gonna fuck a load out of me. If he does, he'll never let me live it down.

17:41 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I can tell he's getting worked up, and yeah I am showing off for the American Officer, but he did something very similar with his muscles and hard fuck tactics a few minutes ago.

After a couple of minutes of this, sweat is pouring down my face doing this, but it's so amazingly pleasurable I move on of my arms from behind my head and stop fucking for a second, just holding his 250 frame up with my core stomach muscles and start to jerk off his massive cock, wanting a second load before I'd even shot one... wanting to show him I knew not only how to fuck but could do it well.

My body strained, holding him up, my cock still inside him, but not fucking right now, just moving slightly to let him feel the ten inches inside him as I worked his cock with my one free hand, straining to hold him up.

"Fuck yeah... Fuck yeah... Fuck yeah.. just come again... empty that fucking sack, sir."

17:50 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Grunting, dripping in sweat, that sweet pain/pleasure burning my ass up, I gotta admit Mark is the fucking total real deal. If he can fight as well as he can fuck, tomorrow's mission will be a breeze.

Then he stops mid fuck, holding me up suddenly, his core muscles locked out, quivering harder than steel. The SAS stud's sheer power is insane, a total goddamned turn on to a man like me. His hand reaches out to grab my hard shaft, and starts to work it. I've already cum, but my dick seems to have forgotten that.

His cock is impaled up my ass, and quivering just enough, rubbing my prostate, and combined with his stroking, I let out a low moan, "Fuck... you horny fucking British bastard.... You are gonna do it... you are gonna fucking make my officer cock spew another load... oh fuck... fuck me... .OH FUCK.."

I groan, as a second load suddenly shoots out of my dick, spraying Mark in the face, not quite as big as my first load, but almost. I let out a loud moan, this was how you prepped for a mission in my book.

17:54 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "Too fucking late," I laugh and slam back down to the ground and put my arms around you as you're still spraying over me and turn you around so I'm on top, and now you're face down on the ground, and I mount you, slamming my dick right back inside and starting to fuck again, this time harder, slamming you down into the concrete floor of the ammo hut.

"Fuck yes... officer fucking came fucking twice before the squaddie came once, fuck yeah..." I slam in again and again and again, and then my balls just erupt and slam a whole load of seed inside, you dripping down the sides of my cock as I continue to fuck through my orgasm, the sweat dripping down my face, every instinct telling me I can stop now, but I don't, not until my balls finish and there is nothing left to shoot out, and I finally drop down, dripping with sweat and jizz onto the floor next to you, putting a hand out to the shelf and picking up my beer and downing it.

"See... that was fucking worth it."

18:05 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Before I even finish spraying out my second load, Mark grabs me around my waist, and tosses my heavy bulk, my dick still shooting, down to the concrete floor. FUCK... What a fucking animal.

I'm laid out on my face, grunting heavily as this hard-bodied SAS fucking machine drops on top of me, and drills my ass again, but this time, he's sinking that SAS dick in like a fucking machine gun, thrusting his full considerable strength behind each drive.

He's literally fucking my brains out, but I growl deep in my throat as he rubs it in, I knew the cocky shit would make an issue of it. I snarl, "C'mon you fucking squaddie, I'm waiting for you to get started, you promised to tear my ass up, GET TEARING SOLDIER, THAT'S A FUCKING ORDER FROM A SUPERIOR OFFICER!"

Then, in between one slam and the next, I feel his hard-muscled body tense, and start blasting my guts with his British jizz. He keeps fucking me the whole time, his sweat dripping on my back, until every last drop has been jackhammered deep up into my guts. I start to laugh, "That's the ticket soldier... Fuck yes. Let it out."

He rips out of me, and plops on the floor. I reach out and grab my beer from the floor, and knock it back, thirsty as fuck. I laugh, put my arm around this SAS stud's shoulder and pull him towards me, giving him a beery kiss on the side of his handsome face, "Yep.... I knew it was gonna be worth it."

18:15 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "Right.. need a shower... see you in the morning, try not to sleep in, I know what you lads are like," I say matter of factly as I pull on my trousers, standing up and lacing my boots up and then finally pulling my t-shirt back over my head.

I step over you and smile. "Lets hope we can have another one before we head back with the prisoner. If you've recovered by then," and then I open the door and head out, at least closing it behind me. "Fucking hot," is the last thing I say to you before I head back to the SAS guys.

I'm not the sort of person to hang around outside of sex or get attachments, that's becoming obvious, but the smile shows how much I enjoyed it.

08:56 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I sit back and watch with an appraising gaze, dripping in sweat, finishing off my beer, my ass on fire, and my dick only slowly softening.

I take in Mark's naked form with outright appreciation, every single line and cut of his hard-muscled SAS body is a pure feast for my eyes. Especially since I know exactly how much power that body is packing. Fuck, I want to fight him. Want to see what this British hard man can do.

He get's dressed, looking every bit as good in his gear and boots as he does without. Damn, what a smile he has to boot. I speak up just before he leaves, "I'm recovered now, you fucking hot bastard. See you in the morning." I chuckle, get up, get dressed and head to my barracks.

Wouldn't have minded some more private time with the hot fucker, but hell, he was clearly not interested in attachments. Fair enough. I thought for a moment, more than a bit wistful, about Aaron. I mean, I hadn't rescued him with any expectation of anything further happening between us, I'd take a bullet for the big tough Para no matter what, but .. I missed him. Still, he was happy with Jason, that's what mattered, and I had a job to do. That fucking terrorist was coming with us tomorrow.

THE NEXT MORNING

I get early, line up my men, and give them their orders. They were going to join up with the rest of Mark's squad, and the other International troops in our little Joint Op, to assault the terrorist compound from the front.

Then, while they were busy occupying the forces up front, Mark and I would take a HUMVEE and park it about a mile from the compound, entering an underground river that ran beneath the compound. There was a sewer outlet from the compound that dumped into the river, and we'd use that to get into the base. I'd memorized the map we'd gotten from our contact, and we knew where Eli was likely to be.

With our boys distracting the bulk of the defenders, whoever was left inside to defend Eli would have to deal with me and Mark. I geared up, in my heavy battle gear. I started by pulling on my desert battle fatigues, my olive green undershirt, and my heavy thick desert battle jacket over that. I laced up my combat boots, then slipped on my heavy armored tactical vest over the works.

Then, I loaded out my tactical belt, with my M9 Beretta, my combat knife, my lockpicking kit, two flashbangs and two frag grenades, though I hoped like fuck we wouldn't need them. I also packed a heavy duty military grade stun baton to help in subduing Eli when the time came. I loaded my tactical belt in my waterproof backpack, all except my M9 Beretta. I'd load that in just before we took our swim, I wanted my sidearm to hand at all times.

I didn't take my assault rifle though, we'd be in close quarters, and it would be a tight fit in my backpack. Finally, I was loaded out. I snapped my helmet into place, and proudly looked at the US Flag sewn onto the outside of my battle gear. Time to go to work!!! Fuck, I loved my job.

I headed out to the HUMVEE Mark and I would use for our part while the rest of our men loaded out into their transports. I was deliberately extra early, cause I wanted to give that cocky fucking British bastard a bit of a reaming about his 'tardiness'.

09:28 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: My guys were ready as well, unlike the Americans we weren't wearing any markings, no flags, no name tags, that was more the way of the British SAS when doing something like this, makes it easier to be deniable if there is an issue.

I'm wearing desert combats, heavy boots, t shirt with jacket over that, with a heavy set of body armour over the top of it. On both hips are two Sig Sauer P226 pistols and on my back a compact UCIW, Ultra Compact Individual Weapon the military called it, a very small semi-auto rifle.

In the vest were spare magazines, two flash bangs, two tear gas grenades, stun baton and a massive combat knife within easy reach on my chest, there were two other knives, one attached to my hip and one attached to my boot.

My gloves were fingerless to aid with firing, but the back of the knuckles covered in a large ceramic plate.

I head over to the Humvee carrying a large sniper rifle and attach it to the back of the humvee on the back to the left of the machine gun attached to the frame of the transport. I'm already freshly shaven and when I get to there, it's like the last night hasn't happened. "Okay... are we good to go?" I say, my lads are heading to their transports at the same time.

09:43 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I watch as Mark approaches, loaded for bear. He's going pure stealth, no markings on his uniform. Not sure about the British, but my American superiors made it clear they wanted it known who was coming for them.

I could see he was all business this morning. As agreed, I would drive, and he would take point. He' come loaded out with that in mind, his sniper rifle and UCIW in evidence.

He mounts his sniper rifle then heads up to the front. Clean shaven, looking sharp. I nod, with a small tight grin, "Just waiting on you, Sgt."

I roll over the engine, put the Humvee into gear and head out. The journey passes in silence, with me focusing on the route and letting Mark keep an eye out for any dangers. We were not exactly in friendly territory.

Still, we had planned out our route carefully, and encountered no threats. I parked the Humvee and headed over to the storm drain leading into the underground river, I looked up at Mark, "Ready for a swim, Sgt? Let's go."

I loaded my my M9 into my waterproof pack along with my tactical belt, and lowered myself down, nearly 375 pounds of muscle and gear. There was no ladder here, just a hole with a drop. My thick arms rippled with power as I managed my own weight smoothly, got to the lowest point, then dropped the remaining five feet. The water was about three feet deep, and made a huge splash. I quickly moved forward, leaving room for Mark to drop in behind me.

Every sense became hyper aware, and I switched into full combat mode. From here on out, the danger began to grow. I took in the smell of the river, not exactly fresh and clean, and switched on the headlamp attached to my helmet to illuminate the cave in the direction we needed to travel.

Any minute now, our boys would start the diversionary attack.

09:51 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: The SAS guys had turned up deliberately just on time, knowing that means that the heavy lifting into the trucks would have been done by the other countries forces. But I nod, "We're good to go then."

I take a small waterproof bag out of one of my pouches and put the non waterproof weapons and radio in it and slide it neatly onto my back, when I get to the other side, I'd take them out and put the bag away, meant I didn't have to carry a backpack all the time, allows for more Freedom of movement.

As I drop into the river and splash in, I put the night vision sight onto my left eye, in case of the light going out I wouldn't be caught in darkness and followed, my boots making sloshing sounds as I move through the water, but it's quiet, even with all my muscles, I move gracefully, holding my large knife in my hand in case of emergencies. I trust the yank to do his job.

10:08 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I move forward, taking point letting my SAS hard man cover our rear.

I radio back once, just before we head out, using my helmet radio and earpiece to let our superiors know that we were in place and moving out. That was the signal to start the diversionary attack. Our boys would be in the thick of it now.

There was more than one sewer pipe trickling down into the river as we made our way down, and I'd memorized the markings near the pipe. Nightvision wouldn't have allowed me to spot them, unfortunately, so I did it the old fashioned way. Luckily, the intel we'd received from our source had been accurate, and the terrorists hadn't put a guard in place down here, not recognizing the vulnerability of this assault vector.

Before too long though, I'd identified the markings and found the right sewer pipe. It would be a tight squeeze, but we could manage it. I took off my backpack, and laid on a ledge. I'd come back for it later. I clipped on my tactical belt. I took out my small toolkit, and quickly snipped the wires holding the grating over the sewer pipe in place. Then, I reached up, grabbed the rim, and muscled my self up into the pipe.

It was tight, smelled revolting. I began to inch along, shutting off my helmet light, and switching to my nightvision eyepiece. Just up ahead there was another grating in the floor. I could hear shouts of alarm and distant gunfire, our boys were doing their job. I stopped, and listened carefully, there were a few voices close by, but most of the sound was distant. Good.

I used my toolkit again, snipping the bolts holding the grating in place, then with extreme care, i slowly moved the grating, avoiding any noise that might give us away. I slid up and out of the grating, moving with the stealth and grace of a highly trained commando. We were in a small laundry room, baskets of dirty washing off to one side. It was dark in here, and the door leading to the hall was shut. Outside, I could hear footsteps pacing back and forth, and loud mutters of someone swearing softly in Farsi. Looks like we'd have to get past him first.

I waited for Mark.

10:18 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I took the items from the bag and attach them to my back, following the yank, trying to distract myself from the smell, the sewer only illuminated by the night vision lens in my left eye, the things I do for my country.

I slide under the vent, and through the grating after it's opened, I take a few seconds to put the guns back where they should be, it helps with muscle memory to know exactly where things are.

I nod to the American hearing the person swearing in Farsi outside and I take hold of the handle of the door with one hand and very slowly turn it with the other, slowly so that there isn't any noise at all, before I slide my large knife out of it's sheath and I leant over and grabbed a piece of clothing from the laundry, just the first item on top, a shirt it seems.

I look to the yank and point at the door and make a closing motion to it to him, as I open the door, shirt in one hand and knife in the other. The man has his back to me, a submachine gun in his hand. I step forward and slam one arm around his face, stuffing the shirt into his face and mouth to stop any sound of screaming as I slice my knife down and through the tendons in his arm to stop him firing off any bullets and drag him back in the room waiting for the American to close the door.

I drag my knife over the guy's throat and wait there, with the shirt stuffed in his mouth as he convulsed and his life dripped away, until he stopped moving and I dropped him to the ground. I wipe the knife on the guy's t shirt before putting it back in.

The only word I say is "Clear."

10:39 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Mark nods at me, and I step back, letting him deal with the guard, as I pull out my combat knife and my M9, ready to go loud if things go south. I stand to one side as Aaron opens the door, armed with a piece of dirty laundry. I get the gist of his attack. Solid tactics. He knows his job.

He glides out, grabs the guard, glides back as I noiselessly shut the door behind him. One less guard to worry about, as Aaron cuts the guard's throat. I nod at him. Clean, quick, and quiet. I move out myself now, opening the door with extreme care and sliding out into the hall, every step taken with deliberate precision, my eyes darting constantly taking in my environment.

The room where Eli is most likely to be held is at the end of this hall, I can see it up ahead. There are a few doors opening onto the corridoor between us and them. The sound of distant gunfire rattles through the compound, accompanied by the occasional screams of men.

Suddenly, just in front of me, about six feet ahead, a door opens, and two men walk out. They are not looking my way, their gaze focused on the door at the end of the hall, where we expect to find Eli. I surge forward, it's only a matter of time before they turn.

Sure enough they turn to face me. The importance of staying quiet is paramount, at least until we had Eli in custody. The look of shock on their faces slows them down for a split second. The men begin to raise the assault rifles, and begin to open their mouths to shout in alarm, but I'm in motion already to deal with it. My left elbow crunches sickeningly into one man's adam apple, cutting off his screams, to replace them with a death rattle. My blade, in my right hand plunges at the same, sinking deep into the side of the other man's neck, blood spurting out of the wound, but he collapses bonelessy in a heap. Not even breaking a sweat, I reach down and casually break the first man's neck with a professional twist, cutting off his rattling. I drag both men into the room, some kind of small break room, and stack them off to one side.

We need to hurry now. Someone might have heard the sound of that scuffle, though it was unlikely over the sound of the battle outside. I look back at Mark, nodding once, not speaking just using hand signals to indicate the need for speed now.

10:49 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I follow, completely dispassionately watching as the two are dispatched and I nod, following and I pick up a cushion from the break room and head to the door, putting my gloved hand on the door knob. With my other hand I pull out my pistol from my left hand side holster and take a small breath and then open the door roughly inward moving into the room quickly.

It takes only a split second to review the layout of the room, Eli and two guards, one either side of the room. I judge as they turn that both have guns, but one is moving more quickly than the other.

I throw my knife at the quicker one's throat, slams into his chest, my aim slightly off due to his movement, but I figure that it will distract him long enough for David to deal with him, while I turn and bring my pistol up and fire it through the cushion, which muffled the noise of the gasses, hitting the other guard centre mass killing him instantly.

I turn and look at the terrorist, I consider it, I consider shooting him, despite the orders, despite being told what was necessary I consider "accidentally" shooting him. I'm pretty sure that the American would back up any version of events we came up with. I'm pretty sure that maybe only one or two politicians would actively care, the Regiment certainly wouldn't.

But in those brief two seconds of consideration, it comes down, in the end, as it always does to the fact that there are orders and I'll follow them, and we'll bring him in alive.

11:11 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: Mark slides towards the room at the end of the hall, cushion in hand. I wipe my blade on the dead men's clothing, and follow after.

I'm right behind him as he opens the door, and charges in. I take in the layout of the room instantly, and charge forward as Mark throws his blade towards the guard nearest me. The blade sinks into his chest, and staggers backwards, clutching the hilt. I trust Mark to handle the other guard as I surge forward, slicing my blade in a quick, expert thrust, savagely cutting his throat. He collapses dead. I turn, at the sound of a muffled shot to find Mark using the cushion as an improvised silencer, the other guard dead.

I see Eli, cowering in the corner. I catch the look in Mark's eye as he's holding his gun and contemplating that one bullet that would make everything easier even though it would be a direct violation of our orders.

He's weighing it up in his head. A part of me wishes he would do it, but I know he won't. We don't get where we are, he and I, by disobeying orders. Even ones as crappy and politically motivated as these.

Suddenly, behind Mark, through the open door, I catch sight of another guard, doing a commendable job at sneaking up on him. There is a loud burst of gunfire from outside the compound, which no doubt helped. There isn't even the slightest hesitation on my part. The guard is about to unload his assault rifle in the back of Mark's head, but suddenly my knife leaves my hand, whistling past Mark's ear, and embedding itself in the sneaking guard's eye.

I turn, and retrieve my military grade stun baton. Surging forward, I drive the baton into Eli's neck, and fry the fucker. I want nothing more right now than to kill this mother fucker. I lost friends in DC when he pulled his shit.

But I don't. I keep the baton against his neck until his eyes roll up in the back of his head and he pisses himself, then I switch it off turn, and look over at Mark. I whisper, softly, "Target Acquired. Let's go home."

11:30 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I look to the guy that David killed and go over and pick the knife up out of his face and walk over to the American and hand it back, which is probably the closest thing to a thank you.

I retrieve my own knife and put it back on my tactical vest and press the button on my radio. "Charlie 3 to Base, Package In our possession."

I head back to Eli and look at him and then slam my boot into his stomach. "Blood on the ground... I slipped." I grab him and pick him up before I get another message on my radio. I frown and sigh, "Say again?" I say listening in on the radio.

Nothing else changes about my expression as I lift Eli up. "Right.. lets go."

11:47 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I nod at Mark as he hands me my knife back. I wipe the bloody blade on Eli's shirt, and sheathe it. I didn't expect thanks, and didn't get any. I just expected him to do the same for me if the situation were reversed. He breaks radio silence, per the plan, and calls in our status.

I grin momentarily as Mark slams his boot into Eli's stomach. That was satisfying. He heaves the murdering psychopath up over his shoulder, and turns to go. I watch him as he gets a message, asking for a repeat, then tells me it's time to go.

I nod, leading the way, heading back down the hall, covering Mark as he's carrying Eli. As we head back down the hall, it's clear the fighting outside has suddenly escalated in response to our status update, per the plan, keeping all the terrorists occupied, covering our escape. As we reach the laundry room, my helmet radio crackles to life. I get a message from my commanding officer. A long silent moment passes, and I don't respond.

Then, the message repeats. "Understood sir." I reply into my radio.

I look at Mark, nodding towards the sewer grating. I back myself into the sewer pipe, the smell is nauseating. I start to inch back feet first, then look up at Mark, gesturing for him to hand Eli down, intending to pull him as Mark pushes down the pipe.

11:55 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: Eli isn't exactly the world's heaviest person, and I've lifted far heavier, hell I was lifting David up last night just with my stomach muscles and he weights a tonne.

I drop Eli down the sewer grate.

"Fucking shithole," I mutter under my breath.

I don't like the fact of the orders, but orders are orders, and there is always a reason for them. I roughly push Eli down, nearly losing balance due to the crap on the floor. "Prick.." I mutter.

12:05 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I pull Eli with a grip on his arms as I back my way down the sewer pipe, with Mark coming after to push him. He's not heavy, but dragging someone through a sewer pipe is not precisely easy, this was easier with Mark. I was also trying as best I could to keep from wading through the small stream of effluent dribbling down the bottom of the sewer, but Eli was being dragged through it.

I had my orders. They were fucking batshit crazy. But I'd had batshit crazy orders before. To say I did not want to follow these orders was perhaps the world's biggest understatement. But I would follow them.

I finally drop down into the river, pulling Eli with me. I dump him on the side of the river, retrieve my backpack, and stow my gear. I shoulder my backpack, heave Eli over my shoulder, and make the hike back up the river towards the storm drain and the Humvee. I walked in grim silence, Eli's unconscious body slung over my shoulder, Mark behind me, figuring out how best to execute my orders, making plans, and hating every fucking second of it.

12:10 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: Eventually we get to the stashed Humvee and dump Eli in the back, I even take a pair of handcuffs from the bag I'd left in the Humvee and attach him to the vehicle in case he wakes up. He wasn't going anywhere.

I put my hand out. "My turn to drive," I say waiting for the keys. "You get to watch the back this time."

12:21 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I climb up out of the sewer, and dump Eli in the back of the Humvee. I pull out my tactical belt, and reclip it around my waist, tossing my backback into the Humvee.

I turn as Mark puts his hand out asking for the keys. Well, fuck. This was it. I had an image in my mind of the two of us fucking last night. Damn, he was hot.

But orders were orders. I reach down to my tactical belt, grabbing my keys, casually, not betraying my intentions. I reach out my hand to give him the keys, then with lighting speed and calm, focused precision. I seize the cuffs of his sleave, and heave him forward, looking to pull him off balance as my other elbow sliced in the air, aimed at the side of his handsome, hard clean-shaven jaw.

My boot swept out at the same time, looking to set him up for a tripping maneuver. I deliberately had kept my knife and my sidearm out of this. I had already decided to myself that while I will kill him if I have to, I'd really rather not. Fucking orders. I grunted out as I launched my attack, "Nothing personal, Mark."

12:32 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I hadn't been expecting it, it's only as the fist connects with my jaw that I realise that obviously everyone had been given the same set of orders. Then his boot is under me, and I trip on top of it and fall backward slamming into the door of the Humvee.

My jaw feels like it's been hit by a steel bar, but I step forward, I've had worse punches before, not many, but some... he was obviously not intending to kill me, that much was certain, if he'd punched my throat like that, he probably would have.

I adjusted my jaw as I stand up, moving back away from him, to the side, around to the front of the Humvee. "My jaw says that was fucking personal."

And with one smooth motion I pull my gun and train it on the American. "Looks like we both got the same orders." I didn't want to kill him, the went against everything, he was still a special forces operative, AND he was actually on my side, I didn't mind killing an enemy but killing an ally was just fucking wrong.

"Take your stun baton and guns off, throw them on the floor... now...." The gun doesn't waver though. "You make a move towards your fucking knife, or a step towards me and I'll shoot you through the head."

"Drop the baton, and guns into the back seat.. do it fucking now, Armstrong."

13:29 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: My attacks succeed, and I rock the SAS trooper something fierce. I knock him back, and he slams into the side of the Humvee.

This is not my idea of a fun fight. I'd so much rather be fucking this hot bastard than carrying out orders that might force me to kill him. He's my ally, he was a brother Special Forces commando. This was wrong.

I surge forward, looking to pin him up against the side of the Humvee, but despite taking a blow that ought to have put a lesser man to sleep he deftly slips around the side of the Humvee. Well fuck. So much for taking him out quickly.

He gets some distance, which means weapons will need to get involved. I really hate that. He trains his gun on me, drawing it smoothly.

I hold my hands up to show that they they are empty. Staying in place, the Humvee partially between us. "I apologize then, to your jaw. This would have been easier if that blow had simply knocked out, like I'd intended."

I look at him, not the slightest trace of fear in my eyes. I nodded. "It looks that way." I ignore the rest of his orders delivered at gunpoint, my stance not moving, my hands held out, not threatening in the slightest.

I speak almost conversationally, "My orders were to deliver Eli to a position five miles west of here, where a Blackhawk is waiting to take Eli into American custody. In addition ... " I looked as though I'd swallowed sour grapes, clearly I hated this part of the orders. " ... I was ordered to ensure that you did not interfere by any means neccessary. I wish we had killed the bastard back in the compound, Mark. I'm sorry about this. "

I look at you for a long moment, knowing that at any second, you might decide to put a bullet in my brain. Very carefully, I reached down to my tactical belt and pulled off my baton and guns, opening the door of the Humvee and placing them in the back seat as ordered.

But, while I bend over to put the weapons down as ordered, partially concealed by the open Humvee door, I loose a flashbang from my belt out of your sight, pulling the pin and silently drop it on the ground, as I walk away from the Humvee and shut the door, my boot kicks the flashbang under the Humvee, towards the front where Mark is standing.

It detonates with a thunderous explosion of sound and light, as I dive forward towards your position, my ears are ringing like a bell, but I was able to partially preserve my sight, since I was expecting it, and the Humvee itself blocked me from some of the effects.

13:38 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I watch as you put the guns in the ATV and I look at you. "My orders were similar, and yeah I'm sorry as well. But I'm not in the business of killing another special forces ALLY... no matter what the fucking orders say."

"But I'm still taking Eli," and I throw my gun away onto the sand. "Now we're both unarmed. I didn't want to take the risk of you shooting me."

"We settle this like fucking men..." and then the flashbang goes off. "FUCK!" My ears are ringing and I can't see, my eyes involuntarily closed, and I have no idea what is happening. I wasn't going to do anything like this, but I pull my knife out, and slide in in front of me in case you grabbed a weapon from the car.

"BASTARD!" I call slightly louder than normal, as I can't hear my own voice.

13:56 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I realized far too late, after I had pulled the pin on the flashbang, but before Mark had thrown away his gun, what Mark's true intentions were. He didn't want to disarm me so he could shoot me or take me prisoner, he wanted to disarm me so that we could fight this out man to man.

I have many regrets in my life, and misjudging Mark's intentions would be added to that list. I wanted nothing more than to settle this man to man, which is why I never drew my gun on him in the first place. If he had only realized that.... but now, it was too late. And this confrontation between the two of us had just escalated to the next level. Fucking fuck.

Dimly, through my ringing ears, I hear BASTARD. I open my eyes, able to see enough dim outlines to keep Mark in sight as he drew his knife. My blade was in the back seat of the car.

Already in motion though, it took me almost no time to reach his position, seizing his knife wielding wrist, and stabbing my fingers into the soft underside of his flesh. I looked to drive the toe of my combat boot into the back of his knee, hoping to take out his legs while I threw my fist towards the side of his neck, aiming for his carotid artery, praying and hoping for a quick knockout.

14:29 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I drop my knife as my wrist is grabbed. But I grab the wrist on top of mine so I have at least a body part of his.

I feel the boot in the back of my knee and go with the move that he’s trying to do rather than struggling against it so his fist misses my throat and I use both of our weights and his own leg pressing on my knee to throw him over my back so we both go to the floor with me still holding onto the arm.

I roll over still holding on and wrap my legs around his arm and twist it tightening my legs around it and pulling it into an arm bar.

“Try and grenade me you fucking cunt.”

I continue putting pressure on the arm and kick out with my boot to the side of his head. “Fucker.”

14:47 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I slam my boot into the back of his knee, and he goes with the kick, clever bastard, causing my fist to miss his head, but at least I force him to drop the knife.

He gets a grip on my wrist though, and uses the weight of me driving into the back of his knee to throw us both down to the dirt. I land with a thump, with this mother fucking hot shit SAS hard man wrapping up my arm in his legs, starting to sink in an armbar. Mark is deadly and fast, and even though it's not fully locked in yet, I can feel the strain and pain building in my thickly muscled arm.

I react on instinct and training, using my free hand, holding it over my chest, to keep him from dropping his legs all the way across my chest, giving me space to roll towards him, just in time to avoid a kick to the side of my head, relieving pressure on my torqued arm.

I growl as I scrabble with my boots in the dirt, driving my heavy 375 pounds of muscle and soldier gear into his legs to roll the British bastard up, forcing his knees down to his shoulders, yanking several times hard on my arm to free it now that I have a better position.

With my free hand, I drive it savagely, looking to land some hard shots to his handsome face as I work my trapped arm free. I snarl back, "Try and draw your gun on me now, you fucking cunt."

15:18 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I grunt loudly in pain. My back straining as I’m rolled up on the sand and my face is pummelled hard bloodying my nose.

“Wasn’t going to shoot you. If I wanted u fucking dead I wouldn’t have hesitated. You’d already be dead.”

I try to move backwards but his weight is heavy done on me and I drop my arm from around his as I can’t hold on very much longer as it’s not doing much to him now.

I bring my fist around to slam into his face as well. Then quickly bring my fist back and slam the side of my hand into his throat, followed up by bringing my now other free hand around to throw sand into the tough American’s eyes.

“Just following orders,” I say spitting out blood from my mouth. And slammed my knees up into his chest. It doesn’t have much power behind it but it’s enough to allow me to roll off to one side and then kip up to my feet.

“You fucking grenaded me you cunt.”

15:44 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I grunt as my fist smashes into his face a few times, some blood spilling out of his nose, but it's not the best angle to land a solid hit.

"Maybe you weren't gonna shoot me, but you might have taken me prisoner at gunpoint. Couldn't take that risk. Would have prevented me from following my own orders."

Finally, I get my arm free, but that means he's got his hands free as well, and he puts them to use, slamming my face with one fist, rocks me, but it's not a great angle, punching from below, and I can take it.

He chops my throat, but I block that by tucking my chin down tight against my chest, but then he throws fucking sand into my eyes. FUCKKKKKK My eyes are stinging as I roll off him, helped by his knees in my chest.

I heave up to my own feet, my eyes stinging as I furiously fought to get the sand out of them.

My vision which had begun to fully recover from the flashbang was now blurry again, and it hurt like fuck.

"You shouldn't have drawn a gun on me, Mark. Not unless you meant to use it. I could have killed you when I went to hand you the keys, but I didn't. You should have known then."

I surge forward, my eyes stinging. Not gonna be able to do any precision work, but I don't need to. I fire two jabs and a heavy right cross for Mark's blurry head to keep him focused on protecting his head, while I suddenly lash out with my combat boot, looking to drive a monster kick right into his SAS abs and knock him off balance.

16:02 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: “I was fucking trying to just follow my fucking orders, without following them to the fucking letter,” I say stumbling backwards next to the Humvee’s front.

“Because it said by any means necessary. But I fucking respect the second best fucking special forces team.”

I put my hand up to protect head so I didn’t see the fucking boot coming up to my abs and I slam back into the Humvee and the metal slams into my back painfully.

“Fuck…” I groan and just try to move back away. I could pull my knife from my boot. I could pull my stun baton. But both of these things were fucking cheating. This was just between the two of us now. He could have gone for a gun and shot me after the flash bang went off and he hadn’t.

I circle around him for a second slightly limping from the kick that had slammed me into the vehicle. Then I barrel forward straight into him. Not trying anything fancy. Just a simple rugby tackle to take him down. It exposes my back and head. But it’s worth it to get him possibly down on the sand.

16:18 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: "Funny that, how we both got the same fucking orders. By any means neccessary. I don't wanna kill you Mark. But I do need to teach one of the toughest mother fuckers in the second best special forces team a hard lesson about interfering with a member of the best special forces team in the world."

The sand is clearing out of my eyes now, and though it hurts like fuck, I force my eyes open wide. He comes at me after I slam him hard into the grill of the Humvee, charging at me like a wild bull with some serious speed.

I grunt, almost taken off guard by his wild charge. His shoulder smashes into my heavy body armour and he's got enough momentum to knock me off my feet, but my training is sharp and on point. Even as I grunt from the heavy blow, my powerful arm hooks around his neck in a guillotine choke and my legs snap up tightly around his waist. Then, my heavy Ranger muscle, along with all my gear slams back first into the dirt, getting a hard grunt out of me. Dazes me a bit, but I concentrate hard, refusing to let go of that guilliotine choke I've locked on this hot as fuck bastard.

I clasp my hands and grunt, throwing all that thick, hard combat-forged muscle I'd spent my career building and developing into choking this SAS fucker out cold. I grunt, "Gonna fucking knock you out cold, you SAS cunt."

16:31 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I grunt in surprise, and pain, there isn't many people who are as equally well trained as I am, even if he's /nearly/ as well trained as me it's still a hard fight and everything I do, he counters, but that goes both ways.

I can feel the breath being cut off and he's strong, he's probably a bit stronger than I am with all that muscle, but I'm more toned, so the difference there is minor.

I try to turn to start to get a breath but I can't, as I can fucking feel the stree on my neck and his legs holding me tight, stopping me from jumping and then pulling him down with me which is what I'd normally do. But both my hands are free, I will stab him if I have to... last resort... only last resort as I adjust the ceramic plate in my glove so it's dead above the knuckles and slam it down hard on his balls. I know they're covered by a protective cup, I know the trousers are protective. This isn't going to incapacitate him, but that ceramic knuckles will give him pain so I slam as hard as I can into his sack.

My own fist, I think may be broken from doing that, but it's the only way I'm getting out of this.

16:42 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: The fucker is tough, I can feel my steel-hard thick cut biceps cutting deep into his neck, but he keeps fighting me. He's doing something with his fists, but he can't reach my head, and he can fucking pound my body all day in my armour and it won't do shit.

But that's not what the clever SAS hard man does. He drives his fist down into the gap between our bodies, were my legs are locked around his waist, and smashes his ceramic armoured knuckles into my cup. The blow is brutal and savage, and smashes the cup forcibly into my balls. I let out a strangled cry as my nuts churn. I release the guillotine immediately. I wasn't going to be able to finish this SAS bastard before he pounded my goddamn balls into mush.

I unwind my legs lighting fast from around his torso, push his head back, kick off his hips with one boot to make space, while coiling up my other heavy combat boot, unloading it, looking to fucking kick his head off, aiming the sole of my heavy boot for his handsome, bloody face.

16:56 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I've broken a couple of bones in my hand as his boot connects with my face, knocking my helmet off entirely and breaking my nose, and I fall backwards slamming into the side of the humvee, bleeding from both my mouth and my nose, but the kick left him standing on one leg and as I hit the car, him with his leg still coming down, I hook his leg, from behind with my leg, putting him off balance as well.

We're both trained like this, we're trained not to be trying to kill one another, we're trained to do this against the enemy.

I need to finish this fast, he is too muscled, and has a tonne of stamina. There isn't any talking now, no goading, name calling me didn't affect me, I'd been called worse before.

I can barely see from one bruised eye now but I know he has to be hurt, there isn't a way he isn't from that shot to his sack. I stumble back to my feet and look straight at him.

I pull my knife from my boot and take a step forward, the knife an extension of my hand, but I stop and look at you, absolutely ready to stab you.

"We shouldn't be fucking enemies." And yet I'm not moving in for the kill.

17:05 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: My boot smashes hard into his face, blasting his helmet off, and sending a spray of blood to burst from his nose, I think I broke his nose. But even so, despite my heavy blow, his boot lashes out wrapping around my planted leg, pulling it out from under me sending my falling down hard to my ass.

My nuts are churning, and I feel sick. I lay there for a moment in the dirt, unable to get up right away, fighting hard to keep my breakfast down. I look up into his bloody face, and his swelling eye. I've marked him real good. I can take him, I know I can. He can't outfight me. A few more blows to his head and he'll be out of this fight. I back off and stagger up to my feet, as he staggers back to his.

Our eyes lock, and I see him reach down for his boot knife. My own hand follows down to my combat boot, and suddenly my blade is held out facing that bloodied handsome SAS bastard. Neither one of us moves on the other.

I listen, "No, we shouldn't be fucking enemies, Mark. You want the honest truth? I want to fuck you again. But that's not happening, is it? Because I've got my orders. Eli is coming with me. Don't make me do something I'm going to regret. " I stand, my blade ready to strike. I don't want this to escalate to the point where I have to kill him. I don't want that.

17:16 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "Lets just say after that flashbang, you getting near my arse isn't going to fucking happen." I keep my eyes on you as I take a step back next to the Humvee.

I know in a fist fight, he's likely to win; in a knife fight I'm likely to win, in a gunfight, it's pretty even probably. I'm quicker, he's stronger.

I look at David and I hold the knife in my hand and then abruptly turn and put my back to you and I lean into the Humvee and stab Eli in the throat instead, the knife embedding in his unconscious throat.

I put my hands up and look at you. "We were surprised in the house as we were leaving, two guys jumped us, Eli got caught in the fight, looks like one of his guys stabbed him when they were aiming at us."

"That's one version of events. The other version is what happened. I stabbed him. Because fuck me if I'm killing a fucking ally of mine. The orders are bad fucking orders."

Exhaustedly, I take off the body armour, blood having dripped into my vest as I look at you. "So... you want to tell the truth, just fucking stab me now, because I'll be locked up for disobeying orders anyway... and frankly if this fight goes on... one of us will have to kill the fucking other."

17:29 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: "You shouldn't have pulled a gun on me Mark. If you had been in my position, and I pulled a gun on you, are you going to sit there and tell me that you wouldn't have flashbanged me if you had a chance?"

We stand there, neither one of us willing to make the first move. He's fast, I'll grant him that. Maybe faster than me. But maybe not.

Then, suddenly, in a move that didn't really surprise me, because I was contemplating the same act, he turns and stabs Eli. Well, that settles it then.

Sometimes, in the field, things happen. Truth is a slippery beast. I don't want to fight Mark anymore. I can't kill him. I resheathe my knife. I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. I nod at him, looking over at Eli. "You are right, of course. It was a real shame the way Eli got stabbed by one of his own guards in the scrum."

I turn to get in the Humvee, but suddenly as the adreniline fades, my breakfast rises up, my balls were really not happy. I stagger over to a ditch and puke. They are savagely bruised.

I get back to my feet, and stagger over to the Humvee again.

"You are a good man Mark. I'm sorry this has come between us. "

I slide into the driver's seat, "Let's go back to the base and tell everyone the bad news."

17:37 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: I slide into the seat next to you and put my hand out. "We're back on the same side, if that's the story you're going to tell."

"I'm not sorry for anything I did, and I'm damn sure you're not either."

"We face the music for not getting him back, but it's fucking better than me killing you. Special Forces Brotherhood... and it's not fair for the best Special Forces team on the planet to kill a member of the second best..." I smile slightly.

"There's not a single hard feeling for what happened during the fight."

17:45 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I reach out and take his hand, gripping it firm. I grin as I start the Humvee.

"I'm not sorry for what I did, I was following orders in the best way I could, just like you were. I would have been sorry if it had gotten personal. And I would rather live with the bollicking I'll get for not bringing Eli back then live with the regret of knowing I killed the second best fuck from the second best special forces team I've ever had. You see there was this Para I met, Aaron Mitchell.."

I grin over at Mark. "So.... does no hard feelings mean that second fuck might be back on the table? I mean, well, after my balls recover."

17:51 Sergeant_Mark_Christopher: "If you're saying the Rangers are third best special forces and the para's are better than you... it's possible... unlikely though." I smile.

"And if you think I'm the second best fuck, then you're fucking kidding yourself. Do you not fucking remember last night."

"Life's too short to worry about petty grievances," I lean back and grunt as I reset my nose, jarring it back into place. "Eli alive is not worth killing you for."

"And if you need your balls to recover, then the Rangers may drop from second as well.. work through the pain, Lieutenant... man-up."

17:58 Lieutenant_David_Armstrong: I look over sideways at Sgt. Mark Christopher, grinning, barely able to keep myself from laughing.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to have to man-up in order to preserve the Rangers first place position as the world's best Special Forces. Anytime, Anyplace Sgt."

Published: 2021-07-02, viewed 108 times.