A Marine Affair by Heather Long

commander—but only barely. Rick lifted his chin, a knowing look on his face, but not before Eli saw the flash of his smile.
    “Marine, do I need to repeat myself?”
    “No, sir, Commander—sir.” Eli rolled his title over his tongue, imagining it was Rick himself. The faint spice of his skin did wild things to him.
    Inside the cabin, he stripped off his clothes and went for Rick’s, but their mouths met in a hard, demanding kiss. Rick was wilder than before and far less submissive—if he ever had been. Rick stroked his hands up Eli’s sides, exploring his skin. Fingering a scar over his hip bone, he pulled back.
    “What happened?”
    Eli didn’t answer right away, playing with his waistband. He kissed Rick’s neck, lapping tiny circles with his tongue. Rick gave him a gentle pull, turning him around again to look at Eli’s body. The cabin air was cool against his flaming hot skin but his breath was warm and enticing. Eli’s cock stiffened even more painfully.
    He didn’t want to play doctor—he wanted to play with the doctor.
    “What happened?” Rick asked again, tracing his finger along the length of the scar, which according to the medic who treated him, stretched about four-and-a-half inches in length and a couple of centimeters thick.
    “Would you believe me if I said I tripped?” He glanced over his shoulder. Rick’s expression tightened and his jaw flexed. He looked very commanding.
    “No. This had to be deep and they used the wrong kind of stitches….”
    “Field dressing for a week.” He had to stop him before he went all med school on some poor corpsman. Turning around, he pulled Rick into his arms. “Running drills, smoking out insurgents. I got on the bad side of a knife. I’m fine. It didn’t nick anything important and I was only down for three weeks.”
    “Elijah.” Rick never used his full name.
    “Oh, say it like you mean it.” He kissed him, taking over from Rick’s lead. He wanted to be together more than he wanted to talk about old wounds or bad injuries. It happened. He’d healed. They could move on.
    “I want to inspect all of you.” The words sent a possessive thrill through Eli, but he ignored it.
    “Only if you touch and play.” Eli helped him out of his shirt. He was all sinewy shoulders and lean muscle mass. His hands were firm, well-shaped and incredibly skilled. They had a surgeon’s dexterity. When Rick wrapped a hand around Eli’s cock, he reminded him that he had other skills, too.
    Hips thrusting forward, he drove into Rick’s grip. They made it to the bed and Rick turned the tables, giving him a little shove. He stripped out of his pants, having abandoned his shoes somewhere else. Soaking up the view, Eli could have come right then.
    “Damn. I missed this.” He loved the way Rick’s cock stretched, filled out with need and bounced against his belly. Rolling over, he caught his hips and held him still. Tracing his tongue over the tip of Rick’s erection, he felt and heard the other man’s deep sigh.
    Eli worked his mouth around the rigid shaft, swallowing him as deep as he dared. A year of celibacy fell away. He’d had a few offers—none he wanted.
    None from the man he wanted.
    He might have walked away and fallen for his own bullshit that they were over. But like Rick, he’d never given up, never stopped wanting him. The man was hot as hell and Eli moaned. Between the use of his hand and his mouth, he managed to suck most of the length. He worked another hand between Rick’s thighs, teasing the soft, sensitive skin between his balls and cock.
    It tripped Rick’s trigger and he began to thrust, pushing deeper. Eli wanted him to come, and he wanted to swallow every drop. Tears flushed his eyes, the loneliness of the past months washing away and he dared a look up and found Rick staring at him—his face tight with pleasure and wonder.
    Giving his nut sack a soft squeeze, Eli clamped his mouth and swallowed hard, increasing the suction. Head