Rhys and Joe’s wedding is this month and due to busy schedules, we’re starting events early knowing they’ll take a while to run through. Sadly, this means I’ll be on other accounts less. I apologize in advance. This is seven nearly eight months in the making and it’s finally here.
Thanks for patience and understanding.
It’s been a while since I wrote. I’m shit, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hard, you know? I got a lot going on. I have a lot on my mind but I’m going to find a way to London to come see you. I’m seeing if some guys will trade destinations with me but it’s not as easy as you’d think. We’re all monitored heavily. It’s hard to make mistakes. Especially on purpose. I think we’re getting some leave time soon, not sure. I wound up going to Amsterdam the other month. I like home better.
I miss you Joe. I think about you all the time. I talk about you all the time. Some dudes here, my close buds, they know about you. About you bein’ a boy. I don’t have to come up with some bullshit lies and it’s fucking liberating is what it is. They don’t even look at me funny for it. I still jack off to your picture. And I kiss your picture and I talk to it, hoping against hope you can hear me. Silly. I know it’s silly but I miss you and I love you.
So, tell me about you. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Tell me what’s new. How you’re doing. You’re nearly 19 now, yeah? London, you can legally drink. I still can’t legally drink because US laws still apply but we do anyway. So um.. you’ve found a boyfriend? Not my business or anything, I just. I want to know. I don’t know why. I just do. I don’t like thinking about it but these guys say you’re um. Well it doesn’t matter what they say. I still love you even if you are fucking fifty dicks a night or some shit. Doesn’t matter. I love you.
I haven’t even written home. How’s your family? You talked about them so much the other summer. I realized how little I actually know about you. Like, we mostly just had sex. And I got you into some trouble but it was fun.
I hope to hear from you, Joe. I love you baby. xoxo
I was blown up two weeks ago. RPG right through the convoy. Blasted us across the desert. Nearly lost my arm, it was amazing. I’m in the hospital. Down time. Don’t have your phone number on me but here’s mine. Call me if you can? 555-6677 room 113 I think. I’ll be here another four weeks or until my brain stops bleeding. I’ll send you the xrays. Love you Joe.
It’s been three years. Or more. I’ve lost track. Fuck, four. It’s been four years since we’ve met and our letters have slowed down, basically stopped. I haven’t heard your voice in years. You’ve moved on. That much is clear and, well, so have I. His name’s Sean. He’s my best friend. I still have so much of me left with you, I don’t think I can fully give myself to anyone though.
Funny isn’t it? One summer and I cant seem to get you fully off my mind. I think you’re meant for me, Joe. I think you’re my soul mate.
I’ll meet you again. When I’m out of here well and truly. I’ll find you and start working on getting you back. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you love me again. I’ll work so hard to make you happy. I’ll never make you cry. I’ll kill anything that hurts you.
You’re my one and only. I believe that. I’ll hunt you until I win you back. Whoever you’re with now or then, they’ll have to kill me to keep me away. This isn’t me saying good bye. This isn’t a break up letter.
This letter is my promise to you that we will be together again soon. Until then, do whatever you have to do to smile and be happy. Just please, don’t forget me?
I love you.
April 2000 (Year 2)
Sierra Leone. Another brief and easy run through gone terribly wrong. They were ambushed at night while they slept. Held in a cellar, a room underground with no light, Rhys, Lint, Briggs, Charlie and two others woke up with no memory of how they got there. Bags shoved over their heads, hands tied behind their backs, feet bound together. Charlie had them do roll call simply because it presented a bit of normalcy to the boys. It also happened to let everyone know who was there among them.
The trio, Charlie, a man named Nico who had a thick Russian accent and sleepy eyes and another soldier Rhys bunked with back in boot camp all were present, alive and scared out of their minds. (They were Marines, not Gods.)
Hours passed, the silence was grading. And then Rhys’ sack was removed. He could see for the first time since he blacked out. Mouth parched, belly empty but he wasn’t concerned about food right now. He saw the five others, all lined against the wall, bagged and tagged. The enemy dragged Rhys out of the room and barked orders at him in Arabic.
Rhys sat there in the throne of death, as he decided to call it, face dead panned. “Bitch says huh?” He so cleverly replied. For a 19 year old boy he thought it was ingenious.
Both kidnappers looked at one another, exchanging questioning glances and ultimately decided that wasn’t the answer they were looking for. Rhys got held under water until he was about to pass out or gave up holding his breath. Whichever came first. They pulled him out, barked more commands and waited. Rhys, the smart ass that he was, only laughed, trying to think of more witty comebacks. Delirious from the lack of oxygen, he nearly keeled over.
One by one, each Marine was dragged off, tortured and brought back wet, cold, scared and hungry. Rhys started to fall asleep, figuring that was the best way to pass the time until his body gave out. He counted a week. One week of being held prisoner. Being tortured and beaten. Kevin, the bunk mate he had in boot camp, was beaten until his eye gave out and fell right out of his skull. Fingers removed one after the other. Rhys had his broken. Every last one. Charlie’s ears were cut, Nico’s nails removed from both his fingers and toes.
More blood loss from each of them than they figured humanly possible. One week of enduring that and then one day it stopped. Nobody came. Two days passed and still nobody. Five days. No food, no water, no torture.
What the unit didn’t know was that their captors were captured themselves by a ghost man. They were tortured to release information and when one finally cracked, it was nearly too late to save Rhys’ unit. (The Walking Dead of Camp Lejeune)
Bags were removed from their heads and Rhys looked up into the eyes of the ghost himself. (This would be far from his last encounter with him-his future father-in-law)
They were on leave. Allowed to pick a ticket to anywhere in the world for ten days. Rhys was aiming for London to see his summer crush after having nearly lost communication after two years. But, Sean was going to Amsterdam and Rhys was right behind him, hanging onto his coat tails. It was only the two of them save for a few Navy boys that they worked with from time to time but of all Lejeune’s The Walking Dead, it was only Rhys and Sean. Lejeune’s Nightmare.
The motel was average. Bed (One?) small kitchen area, bathroom, balcony. That was it. Rhys, like the child he was, claimed the whole bed and was answered by Sean collapsing down on top of him like any grown adult would.
"I don’t think so,"
Rhys, a much larger and bulkier version of himself these days, was able to flip him right off. Not without struggle, of course.
"Git’ off me, sunshine." He said, staring up at his mentor and best friend with big, wide green-blue eyes. "What’re ya’ makin’ for dinner?"
Sean shrugged, “Jose and Jack and whatever chips they got ‘round here.”
Rhys didn’t like that answer. he’d much prefer watching Sean prance around the kitchen. Oh well.
"Sounds good I guess."
Sean could sense Rhys’ distaste in his answer. “Room service good enough for you, princess?”
That was the gist of their relationship. Saving one another’s lives just to throw around loving insults.
The night moved along slowly, if Rhys were being honest. Nothing good to watch on television. Sean was lying his way through an argument with Larissa, telling her he had to get to roll call. It’d been an hour. Had they really been at base, this would have ended forty-three minutes ago. Once Sean was done covering his ass, he had a very curious, very confused, mildly pissed off Rhys to deal with. AKA angry girlfriend number two.
"Why are we here, man?" He said, looking up to Sean. Rhys tried hard not to seem upset but he could be in London now, not listening to how much Sean loves his wife.
"Because." He started to say as he sat next to his younger Marine Corps brother, "We can spend time together. Not dealing with the other dudes."
Rhys felt his stomach flutter as Sean moved nearer and just the phrase, spend time together, was enough to make him melt.
"Don’t get me wrong," Sean went on, "Love my brother. Love Lint. But-"
Sean looked over at Rhys, eyes studying the younger man’s. Rhys had to touch the side of the sofa as a reminder he was in fact on the ground and this was real.
"But I always looked at us as a duo sorta’ thing. Lately, it’s always the trio. Runt, Lint an’ Briggs. Even Charlie calls you guys that. But I feel like you’re my side kick, you know?"
Rhys choked on a whimper bubbling out from his throat. Excitement, he decided is what he felt.
"Guess I’m just a little jealous?"
Rhys swallowed and tried not to make a big deal about it all. “So? You coulda’ gone to D.C. Dude, I’da gone-“
"London. I know what you were up to. Couldn’t let that happen either."
Rhys shifted again. “And why not? Why are you cock blocking me?”
"Because, you slow mother fucker. I want you. Okay? Since God damn New Years? Before then? Since I saw you been jerkin’ off to that boy this whole time, not some chick. I wanted you."
And there it was. Sean’s selfish ulterior motives. Rhys felt himself twitch in his jeans. He’d only been harboring a crush on Sean since their introduction in the showers a year ago. The fact Sean wanted him back was too much to process.
He wanted to play hard-to-get. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel something other than the terrible turned on and excited that he was.
"I’m not your property, Wake." Good start. "You can’t just drag me to foreign countries-" He was interrupted again but by two large, dark hands gripping him tight and dragging him into an even larger lap.
Rhys’ legs were forced apart for the wide gap Sean made. Suddenly, a very dominant Rhys felt small and meek.
"That’s where you’re wrong, Cassidy. I do own you. Every bit of you. I’m your Corporal. I see the way you check me out and I can tell you now, that boy you’re so wrapped up on has moved on. You think I believe Larissa’s been faithful? You think your boy ain’t found new dick yet? How long it’s been? Two years? More?"
Rhys chimed in, mumbling; ‘more’, nearly pouty like a child. He played with a few of Sean’s pins and badges, shifting in his lap just slightly, feeling the hard length throb against him. Shit.
"Rhys. Let me have you?"
That was all that needed to be said. It was rushed and messy from there. Rhys was out of his clothes and naked in seconds, arching in the other man’s lap, presenting himself for him. Helping Sean unbutton the uniform, he was greeted with rarely seen skin. Dark and scarred, some tattoos and god he was just delicious.
Rhys kissed down Sean’s chest as new flesh was exposed until he was on his knees, between Sean’s thighs like a proper whore. The two shared a glance and Rhys sucked Sean’s fat inches into his mouth and down his throat, all the while, Sean smoothed his hair back and out of the way. Sweet gestures.
"Always wondered what them lips felt like around my, boy. Fuck. London’s missing out playin’ with them other dicks." Rhys felt a wave of heat, hate and pain wash up. Jealousy- How could Sean bring him up like that, during this? How could Joe fuck someone else? Those thoughts took over him until he gagged on Sean’s dick and he was greeted with reality again.
They were moving again. Rhys, back in Sean’s lap with a hot, huge black dick begging for entrance. Rhys nearly questioned his sexuality, wondering if he was gay after all. (It was scary to be on the receiving end) Sean was a gentleman, prepped him well with big skilled fingers, stretching and moving and fucking in. Lips to Rhys’, the young man melted for his friend. And then Sean was pushing himself inside.
Not since he was about thirteen did he get fucked and then it was forced, but every slick inch of his best friend burned as it spread him open. Sean’s large hand wrapped around his dick and it was all jerks and bucks and slow, lewd dragging of slick skin against skin.
Rhys came quick, splashing white streams over himself, onto Sean and he was reduced to a crumbling puddle of moans and growls and grunts as Sean fucked him to pieces. And then hot seed filled him up, splashing into his ass. Rhys was left a wreck in Sean’s lap.
Rhys would always make an excuse to wander away for his birthday. Back home, he’d visit his mother. Here, he’d nap under the open sky and pray to her all day. Except now Sean knew where to find him. (They were nearly attached at the hip these days) A cake was made. Candles lit to celebrate Rhys’ twenty years of being alive. he had nowhere to run to. After getting drunk and pulled away from the phone when he wanted to call Joe, Rhys was prisoner of the USMC. Stay, they said. Party, they said.
It ended with Rhys riding Sean’s dick in the showers. Not a terrible way to spend his birthday, he figured.