Entry tags:
2001 AU
He’d gotten his orders two weeks ago, but he’d known they were coming down the pipe since September 11. The country was at war again and war meant casualties. Casualties meant medics and that meant deployment orders for one Sergeant Jack Abbot among countless others. He’d been given a week of preparation leave, which he was supposed to use to go visit his family and wrap things up, but there wasn’t a lot of family he wanted to visit and not much to wrap up. He didn’t even have a dog.
Instead he booked a flight to Seattle. If anyone asked, he said it was because Seattle was cold and rainy and he thought he was going to be short on cold and rain for a while, or at least rain. Afghanistan and Iraq could get really fucking cold in the winter. He knew that from the stories people told about the Gulf War. He ought to call it the first Gulf War now, he guessed.
He’d actually chosen Seattle because he’d texted Robby “just to check in” as soon as he’d gotten his orders and Robby had mentioned that he’d be at the ACEP annual assembly in Seattle this week. They’d seen each other several times after Jack’s first trip to New Orleans, but then he’d PCSed from Polk and their relationship had dwindled to text messages and emails, all of which were carefully written so that he was friendly but not too friendly, in case anyone ever saw something. Even still, if Jack was going to the other side of the planet and potentially (maybe even probably) not coming back, he wanted to see Robby again. He’d told Robby he’d be visiting Seattle at the same time and just left out the part where he made his travel arrangements after he’d talked to Robby.
He had a room at a hotel near the convention center and its hotels but not too near, and he had arranged to meet Robby in a bar that was between the convention center and Jack’s hotel. They tended to meet in bars since it was a completely public and defensible place to be, even if they didn’t always stay in the bar.
He was sitting in a booth this time instead of on a barstool, turning a beer bottle in his hands and waiting for Robby. He was late. Jack wondered if Robby would actually show or if this whole trip had been a stupid idea.
Instead he booked a flight to Seattle. If anyone asked, he said it was because Seattle was cold and rainy and he thought he was going to be short on cold and rain for a while, or at least rain. Afghanistan and Iraq could get really fucking cold in the winter. He knew that from the stories people told about the Gulf War. He ought to call it the first Gulf War now, he guessed.
He’d actually chosen Seattle because he’d texted Robby “just to check in” as soon as he’d gotten his orders and Robby had mentioned that he’d be at the ACEP annual assembly in Seattle this week. They’d seen each other several times after Jack’s first trip to New Orleans, but then he’d PCSed from Polk and their relationship had dwindled to text messages and emails, all of which were carefully written so that he was friendly but not too friendly, in case anyone ever saw something. Even still, if Jack was going to the other side of the planet and potentially (maybe even probably) not coming back, he wanted to see Robby again. He’d told Robby he’d be visiting Seattle at the same time and just left out the part where he made his travel arrangements after he’d talked to Robby.
He had a room at a hotel near the convention center and its hotels but not too near, and he had arranged to meet Robby in a bar that was between the convention center and Jack’s hotel. They tended to meet in bars since it was a completely public and defensible place to be, even if they didn’t always stay in the bar.
He was sitting in a booth this time instead of on a barstool, turning a beer bottle in his hands and waiting for Robby. He was late. Jack wondered if Robby would actually show or if this whole trip had been a stupid idea.

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He toasted with his own glass, mostly sarcastically. The first deployments were already in progress, so he was going to see what happened with them before he made any plans for his own R&R.
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The first time, they’d had two hours. In New Orleans, the longest they’d ever had was a night, but mostly it’d been a few hours. Two nights was so much time that he almost didn’t know what to do with that kind of opportunity.
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"Seems like you have a plan already," he pointed out, although he wasn't actually sure Robby did, other than "be close to Jack".
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They were both more relaxed, literally, but he was curious to see if this was going to go anywhere. He could honestly be talked into sleeping, showering, or another round. They had time. They had so much time.
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"And what would you do if I was?"
He didn't know where this was going, but he trusted Robby. If Robby wanted to get a little kinky, Jack was willing to play with that, up to a certain point. He had his own boundaries, but Robby wasn't likely to try any shit that required negotiation without that negotiation in place.
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"Take you apart," he says. "See how much you could take before you were begging me to let you come."
Jack has to have done interrogation training, so maybe Robby would have been on a hiding to nothing there.
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"You didn't already do that?" He definitely remembered asking Robby to fuck him just a few minutes ago, and he hadn't been particularly calm when he did. He hadn't begged, though.
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"Overachiever," he teased. Robby was almost hard against him like he was almost hard against Robby.
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"Sometimes," admits Robby, rolling his hips again,.teasing them both with the friction. It hasn't escaped him that Jack hasn't even tried to break his hold on his wrists.
"Would you let me tie you up?" he asks, not even entirely sure that he wants to, but curious, all the same. "Or a blindfold, maybe."
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“I’ve never done either of those things. Guess I’ve been pretty vanilla, if that’s the right word for that,” he replied. “But … I could do a blindfold. Not sure about tying up. I don’t think I’d like not being able to touch you.”
He hadn’t pulled his wrists away from Robby’s, but they were still teasing. If they really got into it, he’d want to be able to touch Robby.
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"I'd like that," he says. "The blindfold, I think."
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“Alright. Well try that. See how it goes. And if either one of us hates it, we’ll stop, same as anything else.”
Both of them had the ability and the responsibility to communicate all of that shit as often as needed.
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"Still leaves us with the question of round two tonight," he says, curling the fingers of one hand around his own cock and stroking slowly.
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“You wanna get fucked?”
That seemed like a pretty simple solution to the question of Round Two. Jack was sure he’d be better at it now than he had been when they’d done this last. He felt like he was getting pretty good at it by the time he PCS’ed and they had to stop watching Saints games together, but he thought he was even better now.
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They'd tried a lot of different things, back when they were watching all those Saints games. He's more than happy to let Jack choose.
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“How comfortable are the chairs at that conference? Wouldn’t want you to need to sit on a foam donut or anything.”
The question was challenging, but the sentiment was real. He didn’t want Robby to be unable to sit down tomorrow or for him to not want to do anything tomorrow night.
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“On your knees, I think,” he decided. “And I think … I wanna rim you, if you don’t mind.”
He didn’t think Robby would, but it was something he wanted to be sure about.
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"Sounds good to me," says Robby, slipping to the side so he's sitting back on his heels, rather than straddling Jack, his cock still in his hand. "I'm all yours."
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He sat up and leaned over to kiss Robby, just to start with, and slid his hand down to cover Robby's on Robby's dick. He wasn't planning to jerk Robby, but he'd tease a little, maybe. Why not, right? They had time. They had so much time.
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