Title: Cat Got'cher...?
Author: SassyInkPen (August 2003)
Fandom: Tour of Duty
Summary: This story is dedicated to DC, whose supposedly innocent little mind hatched this particular brand of....well, you'll see.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, didn't create 'em, and I don't make any money off 'em - I just use 'em for pure unadulterated fun.
I gasp with horror when Zeke shoves my shirt off my shoulders and immediately starts to work on my pants. I can't quite figure how he's moving so fast, almost as if he's skipping steps, and yet he's accomplishing his goal with alarming speed.
"Zeke!" I hiss, "We can't do this in the *Team House*! We'll get court martialed."
"Don't worry, Myron...ain't nobody comin' in here. I made sure of that." He yanks my pants down and before I know it, I'm standing naked before him, wanting...but still scared. He pulls me to him, forcing his body hard against mine, his fingers and tongue going places they know all too well. Lust clouds my mind and I give in to him easily. Always so easily.
When my head clears, I'm flat on my back on the pool table. I try to reach for Zeke, standing next to me, but find that I'm bound hand and foot to the table. "Zeke....?" I ask nervously, hoping for an explanation. I don't get one. What I get is a smooth hand over my aching cock, stroking me firmly, and I'm ashamed to say that's all it takes to quiet me down, despite the circumstances. I lie there panting with desire and twisting my body, gazing helplessly at him.
He gives me a wicked grin that makes me shudder, and then turns his back on me, heading for the bar. When he returns, he's got a large aluminum pitcher from the mess hall. My mouth drops open in a soundless gasp as he holds it up over me and smiles, "Take a deep breath, son..."
I do, and steel myself for what I know is coming. A slight twist of his arm and the liquid hits my chest in a thick pearly stream, splattering on impact. It's not very cold. And it's not the water I was expecting. It's cream. I barely have enough time to wonder where in Vietnam he came up with a whole pitcher of cream, before he's trailing it over my body. He runs it up across my chest, letting it splash over my shoulders and down my neck...then moves back the other way, spilling it down my belly and over my aching groin. I can't help but moan and arch my body into the fountain that's like a pale imitation of his caress, running thick and heavy over my cock.
I feel the cream run down between my legs, trickling into places that make me shiver and writhe. The felt beneath me grows damp as more cream soaks in under my shoulders and thighs. I'm panting with need and anticipation, wondering what comes next, and I test the bonds to see if I can free myself and just take what I want from him. It's as hopeless as I knew it would be.
"Take it easy now..." he says, noticing my struggle, "I ain't nearly done with you..." He sets the pitcher on a nearby table and comes up next to my head, bending over me to claim my mouth in a rough, hungry kiss. "You make one tasty looking buffet, L-T..." I kiss back, biting at his lips and flicking my tongue in his mouth. Deep in my mind, it occurs to me that "buffet" is neither very sexy, nor romantic and I wonder why he chose it.
I strain my neck, trying to stay in contact with him as long as possible, even as he pulls away. This time he disappears into the back room completely, and I start to get really nervous. I don't like being left alone like this when anyone could walk in. I'm about to start yelling for him, when he comes back carrying a large cardboard box.
I stare at the box warily...it's making strange noises and thumping a lot. "Zeke," I snap fearfully, "What the *hell* is that?!" I don't think I wanna play this game anymore and I start to struggle for real. Still no use. I'm staring at him wide-eyed, and my heart's pounding so hard I think it's gonna rip a hole in my chest.
He sets the box down on the floor and bends over it. I hear a noise I think I recognize, and hope to hell this is a joke. When he stands up, he's got a kitten in each hand, and grin that would put Johnny to shame. It sends a chill down my spine.
I warn him in a low voice, "All right Sergeant, enough's enough, untie me right now...."
He blithely ignores me and sets the kittens on my stomach. One slips off the side, using every claw it has trying to stay on. I hiss from the stinging pain. The other crouches low and starts to lick at the cream immediately, tickling and making the muscles of my stomach twitch. "ZEKE!" I yell, starting to panic.
Zeke makes a few more trips down to the box...and now I've got six kittens scampering around on me, happily lapping up cream. Their little tongues are everywhere, fluttering rapidly over my skin, wet noses bumping me in sensitive places. I twist and pull, trying to avoid them, but there are too many and I can't move far. *They* certainly aren't going anywhere. Their tiny feet poke and prod as they run around, looking for pools of cream and playing with each other.
"ZEKE! This is sick!...." I scream, not fully able to figure out how in the hell he came up with this. At least I understand the word 'buffet'.
My shouting attracts the attention of one of the kittens, and it gambols up my chest to sniff at my face, purring loudly. It sticks one paw in my mouth, and I blow at it to try and shoo it away. I can feel another one perched precariously on my thigh, and I pray to god it doesn't slip. Then a rough little tongue scrapes across my cock, and I jump, bucking my hips and trying to shake it off. I don't care if it scratches. I feel perverted. "Get 'em off, NOW!"
He's utterly unmoved by my protests and comes to stand at the head of the table, stroking my hair and grinning. He leans over me to scratch one of the kittens behind the ear, and it rolls over, attacking his fingers playfully. Now, not only do I feel perverted, I feel like a pedophile. And the truth is...all the little tongues stroking and teasing, the feet padding over me, and the soft fur...I can't help but be aroused by it. My body doesn't care where it's coming from, it only knows it feels good. "...*Zeke*...." I try one last time, pleading through gritted teeth.
Zeke chuckles, and bends down to kiss me hard and slow. Then he steps back, drawing his side arm, and I wonder just what the hell I've gotten myself into. My eyes grow huge, but he winks at me and points the gun at the ceiling, squeezing off a couple of rounds. The kittens jump like popcorn and scramble off the table, racing across the floor to huddle in their box. I'm relieved, but I still feel like a pervert.
I forget about all that when I realize Zeke's kneeling on the table between my legs. I'm not sure how he got there so fast, but I don't care. Nothing ever looked so good. Hell, I'm even willing to forgive him. He's got his pants open and he's stroking himself...long and hard, just for me. My entire body trembles with anticipation...aches for him. It's kind of a deal we have...he exists and I need.
He drags his palm across my chest, sopping up enough cream to coat his cock with. Then he's shoving hard into me, and the only thing I can think or feel, at all, is him and the way our bodies connect. My senses are reeling, carrying me on a wave of perfect pleasure, as he thrusts into me again and again and again. His large hands grip my waist and my thigh, strong and steady as they always are...and his eyes are on me. His eyes are always on me, watching me, admiring me...making sure I know it, too.
He doesn't even close them or look away when he picks up his pace, frantically, and comes hard, burying himself deep. He clutches my thigh and bucks forcefully a few more times, eyes locked with mine. I don't look away either. "Oh *yeah*, L-T...." he gasps, voice cracking a little, as he shudders with the force of it.
He's breathing hard and there's sweat on his brow, but he gains control of his movements once more and levels his gaze on me. A feral grin touches his lips, and I know what's on his mind now. My body is tense with desire, aching for release...he always takes me to this point where I want it so bad, never anything less. He knows exactly how to take care of me, and he's never once let me down. He sets his hips and curls a hand around my cock, and then he starts in with the exquisite torment that quickly has me writhing and moaning, tugging at my ropes desperately. He works me expertly and within minutes I'm screaming out his name as my climax rips through me, spilling over my torso like the cream.
I gasp sharply, mind swimming as my hips buck involuntarily. I suddenly feel startled, but I don't know why...only that something's wrong. When I open my eyes, I'm lying in my rack...drenched in sweat and tangled in the sheets. My body is still thrumming with the last traces of my orgasm, and my torso is speckled white. No cream though, only me.
The dim beginning of a new day is highlighting the dark patches of my windows, so I get up and head for the showers, wanting to get done and out of there before anyone else is around. I've been having these dreams more and more, and it's getting harder to face Zeke each day and go about business as usual. I'm not sure how much longer I can take it. Fifty-three days and a wake-up, if I'm lucky.
I skip chow and head straight for the coffee, lost in my thoughts. It's too late to turn back when I realize the soldier pouring a cup as I approach, is Zeke, and he grins, handing me the coffee. "Mornin' L-T. Another bright, beautiful day in Vietnam."
I nod and smile, but can't quite bring myself to speak as filthy images snap through my mind like the afternoon matinee. He points to the cup, "You want sugar with that? Or cream?"
That's absolutely more than I can bear and I turn on my heel, forcing the day's purpose into my step, and trying to remember where I'm supposed to go. My body trembles with the intensity the mere memory of that dream carries.
I hear quick footsteps behind me, and Zeke's voice, "L-T!...L-T!...." He comes up alongside me and falls into step, "Hey now, L-T, what's the matter?...Cat got'cher tongue?"