The Recruit

Author’s note: Several years have passed. I hadn’t really meant to continue this but...as will happen, I found the characters interesting to write, liked them, liked cowboys and Marines and so…..18 pages, 6,450 words later, the story goes on. I hope you will like my men as much as I do; There isn’t one I wouldn’t fuck.  PJ            

The truck pulled up, cowboy started out to say howdy to the big man who was standing there. Only got so far as the man grabbed him, pulled him out, knocking his hat to the ground, then shoved him against the back cab door. He had a certain determined expression that Jeb, the cowboy, hadn’t seen too often and wasn’t pleased to see it now. One big hand held him hard against the truck while one leg kicked his two boots apart telling him, stay just like that, shut up until you’re spoken to and he’d  do the speaking.

Out of habit and respect Jeb reached up to take off his hat forgetting it was already on the ground while the big man contemplated whether to piss in it or stomp on it. Either way.

“I got some questions and you’re going to answer them. Hear me?”

His Adam’s Apple got about the size of a grapefruit which sort of prevented his answering, unless a gulp could be an answer...which the man staring at him didn’t think it was. His, “Yes Sir”, emerged in a molting condition, you kinda had to know that’s what he meant to say. Sorta.

The big man lifted one knee and put it squarely under Jeb’s balls kept there as he used the truck as a backstop. Never took his eyes off him, just wanted him to know that this was serious; Jeb kinda figured that.

“You been fucking my grandson?” Oh holy hell, it wasn’t a question he wanted to answer, ever, and surely not to this man, the grandfather. Just to encourage him, the knee popped up just enough to not hurt but genuinely to say ‘next time...’

“Okay, one more once. Have you been fucking my grandson? Yes or No? You do know what fucking is? you take that thing….” He reached over and punched about the second button up on his 501’s to demonstrate what was under it. “….then you turn your man over spread his cheeks, stick it up his ass….just so you remember, take off his boots and his pants first...Now, my grandson, you ever stuck anything that belongs to you up anything that belongs to him?”
“Uh….”

“ ‘Uh is not an answer, yes or no, those are answers...pick one….”

“Yeah, uh, Sir, I did, uh, well ya see….”

“Is he any good? Does he know how to fuck, ever fuck you?”

Jeb was having trouble answering two questions at once, neither of which he really wanted to answer….

“Uh….”

“Jesus Christ, is that the only word you know? ‘Uh’? I’ve heard you plenty a times, fuck ‘uh’ and answer my question. Did he ever fuck you, did he know what he was doing?”

Big gulp. “Sir, he sure does know how to fuck, real good at it, guess some man taught him good.” You can go too far. “ ‘Spose I got you to thank for teaching him good ‘n all….’bout how to fuck a man...”

It was truly the wrong thing to say; The  big man sorta turned colors, kneed Jeb, twice, in the balls, so hard it almost pushed him up the side of the truck.

“The last thing I fucked that didn’t have my ring on her finger was my wife, one time before we was married,,,after  that, it had my brand on it’s butt, four legs and went ‘Moo’ ‘an’ I was one drunk cowboy when I did it. I never fucked my grandson. Ever.”

“No Sir, you never fucked your grandson cuz you was fucking cows.” There was, unfortunately, a pause which he chose to fill conversationally. “ I guess every cowboy has punched a cow or two now ‘n then…..my daddy…”

The big man gave him ‘the stare’ that every man knows and should know how to use, this big man did. What ever Jeb was going to tell him about his daddy wasn’t going to be told.

From inside the truck, where he’d been squinched down ‘bout as far as he could on the passenger’s side, Pete appeared, jumped down, got between Jeb and his grandfather then put his arms around him-the man always had to notice, another inch and they’d be eye to eye, with or without boots.

“Pa, don’t….You know me, Duffey, Dad….he just kinda did what I sorta wanted him to do.” He had an excuse. Sort of. “You know, Duffey isn’t around here….”

The big man paused, smiled, thought about a Marine called Duffey that protected his grandson at a truly terrible time in his life, matter of fact, that was why the young man now lived in Texas with his grandparents. Yeah, he knew Duffey and the kid’s Dad, both fine men. No doubt, though he’d never been told, that Duffey taught him how to fuck and, if he knew his Marine, this one in particular, no way Pete didn’t know how to fuck; Matter a fact, Jeb was lucky to get fucked by him, probably better than anything he could find locally.

The big man thought about Duffey, knew he was an orphan now lived with his son-in-law, figured they were partnered up. Well, Merle, the big man, thought, good. At first he’d been, he’d admit it, shocked but when the caravan bringing Pete to him, all those Marines, Duffey...and he thought about a day now two years past….Pete drove his dad to the airport in San Antonio, took a long time driving back but...hell, Merle knew why, hard to say good bye when this “Good Bye” was going to last into the future. What his grandfather could do when he finally got home was give him a hug, told him to shower, go to bed…..better than forcing him to show the tears to everyone. They knew, but no one more than Merle. No one.

It took Pete some time to get used to living on the ranch. He loved his grandparents, came to love the work, the people in Boerne…. different and maybe that was good. Looking at Jeb, still bouncing back and forth from boot to boot, almost afraid to pick up his hat for fear Merle would take out his nose with his knee not to mention giving him two black eyes. Just then, he seemed to be ignored while grandfather and grandson resumed their close relationship. Fuck him. He just stood there, hoping, maybe, someone would notice him, release him from the side of the truck. Out of habit he lifted one  boot, put it against the truck and thought about relaxing. Merle whipped his head around, looked at him, which caused him to drop his boot, stand straight, still with his legs spread and figured, maybe, eventually, he’d either be released, beat up or thrown out.

Inwardly Merle smiled to himself, he liked the young cowboy, liked his politeness and, just now, his confusion. He had every intention of giving Pete his permission to do whatever he wanted with Jeb although it did sound like whatever he wanted to be done….already had been. He sneaked a peek down at the good sized lump in his grandson’s jeans, put an arm around him, gave him a squeeze then headed for the bar.

“Is he gonna just stand there holding the truck up? Jesus, son, turn loose, pick up your hat before a rattler thinks it’s home and come over here, your man is gonna have a drink with his grandfather, ‘spose we need to get you liquored up, make it easier when he shoves his meat up your ass, get you loosened, give him a good ride….reminds me, son, I had the rowels on your spurs sharpened, need ‘em when the two of you play horsey” He looked at  Jeb “….you’re the mare.”  

Jeb blushed Alabama Crimson Tide red.

Pete slapped his grand dad on his ass, grinned, looked at Jeb, raised his boot heel, reached down and play spun the pretend  rowel on a spur that wasn’t there. Jeb just grinned, looked down, winked at his man then walked up to the bar where Merle was filling three glasses.

Thing is...when Merle poured, he didn’t believe in having to come back for refills-his assumption being that you would want a refill -sure as hell he would. Also, in his home you took it straight, no chaser, no ice, just about six ounces in a straight sided glass that had “JM” engraved on it. Jean, Bills grandmother, didn’t drink-sometimes that was in self defense-but could pour just like her husband. Folks, who’d had a Merle sized drink in their past, thought if the little lady did the honors they might escape with less than a drunk in one glass; They were wrong but up front they didn’t know that.

Jeb looked at a glass that barely had room at the top to get your lip in to sip-and that’s what you did with a Merle drink, sip. Also, he wasn’t sure what he was drinking...other than the amber color which meant nothing to him. One thing, it sure wasn’t beer, no sir, one sip told him that. He heard the scrape of a match on a boot; Pete and Merle had cigars from which they’d bit off the end, spat it out, licked ‘em and were now lighting up. Noticing the absence in his mouth, Merle stuck one in, looked disgusted when he did nothing with it, pantomimed biting off the end, licking it then having flame attached. “Nothing improves good Bourbon like a good smoke. Siddown son, here by Pete, enjoy yourself….put your boots up….always wear your hat in the house?”

Jeb had started to think he couldn’t win with this old man and…..because he really loved Pete, he kinda thought Merle should seem to approve. Least ways, he hoped. That Pete was an adult and could fuck who he wanted didn’t seem to occur to him, that the first thing he’d been ask was whether Pete had fucked him or...wait, he had another pull on his drink...maybe he wanted to know if he’d fucked Pete...one way or the other. Took another good sized sip,  almost coughed up his left lobe. Merle slapped him on the back quietly grinning to himself. Wasn’t much of a sinner. Yet. Unless you counted fucking which Merle didn’t; Everybody fucked.

Two hours later Jeb, naked, in a shower, feeling like death incarnate having ingloriously thrown up his drink and whatever else was down there. Merle’s only comment as Pete took his guy off to be cleaned was…. “Jean sure was right, tile floors work best in here...”

Way North Pete’s dad, their Marine, Duffey, plus  Duffey’s buddies from the Corps, the two gay cops that lived with them, Ian and Terry, were actually all home at the same time. Terry had moved over to SWAT which meant that his hours were more run by police emergency than schedule, Duffey now spent one day a week two towns over in a branch recruiting office occasioning one of the cops and Jack, Pete’s Dad, more often then not, sat down for an evening beer, the news and dinner with at least one, sometimes all three of the other occupants.

Jack had learned over time that, as far as he could tell, Marines could and did do anything, cooking was just another of their skills. He still remembered coming home from a business trip to Portland only to find what had been a formal dining room was now a saloon. Brass rail, spittoons, fully plumbed, the mandatory naked lady painting-well, in this case she was being fucked by a Marine who’d only shoved down his pants, removed his shirt, his Marine Corps tattoos fully evident. As was his generous cock.(Periodically this was replaced by a full sized photo of two Marines fucking...in specific, Terry and Ian,) Dart board, pool table, sawdust for blood…..it could be closed off from the rest of the house when in use-no point in having drunks wander around looking for the crapper-there was a standing urinal by the bar with a sign over it, “If Your Cock Can’t Point Down, You’re Too Young To Be Here .” Also, they’d knocked a hole in the front of the home then turned it into a door but one made to look like it led to ….. a barracks. Just to avoid attention, there was a pair of doors that closed over it when no one was expected. It went without saying that no one showed up unexpected but when they did….Jack learned to sleep soundly no matter what he heard or the decibel level. This was their safe place, their place to dance with each other, have friends, whatever their occupations, drop by and, what he knew, just enjoy being some place where they did not have to be constantly looking around, concerned as to whom might be looking at or for Good boys, all of them, just blowing off steam. Plus, because Marines could do almost anything, whatever the damage, was fixed quickly. Some men have a ‘man cave’ he had a one off Marine Barracks complete with Marines. Just to finish off the ‘look’ there were two sets of bunk beds for grunts who ‘passed go’ at the bar and didn’t need to collect ‘cept to eat some sheets on a bed. Plus maybe a buddy to go with it.

Terry looked…..worried, maybe troubled. He seemed to want to start a conversation but, like turning over a motor on a cold morning, it almost did but then it didn’t.

“Okay, son, fess up, what’s up….I’m over 21, you can tell me….”

“Dad, Has Duffey talked to you about the Corps lately? You know his time to re-up is around the corner….he’s kinda worried that if he does, they’ll move him, give him a promotion, put him back on a base somewhere.”

Just not here or near here although that’s what he didn’t say it  but what Jack heard.

“I’m amazed he’s been here this long, Christ, how many Army guys have been in and then moved on down at the recruiting station? He never talks about it…..I don’t know, I just came to think….” But he wondered if what he thought was just what he wanted to think, that Duffey would always be a Marine, would always be a recruiter, would always be his partner sleeping every night in his bed beside him. That’s what he wanted to think.

He looked at his can, picked it up, drained it… “I think I’ll have something stronger...you?”

“Yeah, sure, Dad...just not a ‘Merle’ special...I have to get up in the morning.”

They both smiled remembering Jack’s father-in-law and his heavy handed way of pouring out liquor.

The Dad Thing. First night Terry and Ian had moved in, given they were younger than Jack, he just called them ‘son’, didn’t mean anything-he called a lot of younger men ‘son’...at least not to him. But their reading of what he’d said went another way. Yes they were cops, yes they were gay and, also, yes their own fathers had thrown them out when, separately, their families had rejected them. Ian had come home from late afternoon classes at the university to find his things in trash bags with a note that in very few words said, “Get out, you’re not our son, you’re a queer.” He joined the Corps that afternoon which is where he’d met Terry-another victim of parental rejection, just more physical; His father beat him up before throwing him out with...nothing. Off to the Corps. Hearing the word “Son” in friendship and with warmth…..had meaning to them.

Knowing what Jack had been through, Millie’s death, Pete’s rape, the general devastation that had in significant ways wrecked his life and….now with his only son gone to Texas, probably forever, (though that was not quite said) he needed some people, guys, to fill up his emotional need for a son….well, two sons.

One day, in the pool, horsing around, they got Duffey on a floating raft-a blow up of the Marine Eagle, Globe and Anchor symbol-and told him that, far as they knew and cared, Jack was their Dad,  and….they wanted him to run interference for them. However you saw it, taking two grown men, cops no less, and turning them back to a certain age and period….some might think it was, well, odd. (They all knew of sets of men who, for a few days, played ‘Dad’ and ‘Son’ but that generally ended up as fetish or incest play, indeed it was the whole idea of it.) What they wanted was just to introduce into their lives something they desperately missed, a Dad, a Father, someone they could go to…..Duffey looked at Ian-whose tastes he knew-and commented, “...and a Dad who would occasionally spank his bad boys?….”. Ian didn’t blush. Exactly.

It wasn’t an easy topic for Duffey; There’d been a bad moment when the guys had first moved in, the first time Jack had called them, “Son”. Duffey, who thought he inherited that title after Pete left, winced but then was told he was his partner...probably better than ‘son’. And they were partnered, far as either of them were concerned they were both fathers to Jack’s son, Pete, which was fine by him. Suited Pete too, only one person not to be told about that arrangement….Merle who really had no reason to know.

As much as he loved his son-in-law, his grandson and, by osmosis, Duffey, the sexual switch went down rough with him. Cowboys, and he certainly was one, were men, had cocks, balls and fucked women. Hell, that’s how he’d got his grandson, Jack had screwed his daughter Millie….that’s how it worked but, he discovered, not always. When they’d been helping while Millie died, they’d been casually aware of Duffey, as a good friend of Pete, someone he went to, a truly nice guy, a Marine recruiter, who provided Pete with not only a friend but someone outside his family to whom he could just...talk. When Jack suggested Duffey move in, he could not have known, mainly for he had no reason to suspect it, that his grandson was gay, had been for some while with a taste for fucking men and being fucked.; Duffey found that out accidentally, provided Pete with an adult preventing his son from looking for the sex he’d kept secret and still get the sex he craved; Eventually, when his Dad knew, let Pete and Duffey sleep together. Some years later Jack had wondered….was Duffey gay or had he done that so his Pete would have a companion sexually as well as be a good friend? By then, it hardly mattered, Pete was in Texas and Duffey was sleeping in his bed. If neither of them had been gay….then….well, now….

At first, Jack had been somewhat uncomfortable when the guys called him ‘Dad’ as naturally as if he really were. Yes, he called them ‘Son’ but...he still addressed many young men that way with no thought of it being anything but an informal verbal address between two men, one older than the other. Now...when he used it with Terry or Ian, they heard it and responded as a real son would for that’s what they really wanted to be. Only problem was...it seemed somewhat forced, at least to Jack….for a time….

As the issue went on, he turned to Duffey who was somewhat at sea on this one himself; He understood his relationship to Jack, he was his partner, his lover, his man but he did not think of him as a surrogate father to anyone except Pete. Oddly, Jack would have liked to have been considered Duff his partner and also be a father to him; Duffey was the product of an orphanage, never had a father so...it would be his honor to have a son like Duffey. This, and he knew it, took them close to the incest play some guys indulged in but that wasn’t what he wanted. Duffey had never indicated an interest in any other relationship, was happy as it was, would have been worried had he known what else Jack wanted. If there had ever been other men in Duffey’s life, apart from Pete and Jack, father and son, no one knew of it….not that he’d asked but...he had wondered….

One night in bed Jack brought up the re-up subject, his concerns about being “Dad” to Ian and Terry and his fears that he would lose Duffey...that came at the end but it was the first in his mind. Terry and Ian could move away, Pete could stay in Texas but Duffey….was right where he should be, next to him in bed, listening to the worries and not having all the answers. The man in a tank top that had on it, “Fuck The Army” and nothing else rolled on his back, grabbed a pillow, stuck his hands under his head then stared at the ceiling as if there was helpful dialogue written there.

“Guess you know this but...the Corps is my career, I walked from the orphanage to the recruiter…...fifteen years ago?”

“No one can look down any road far enough….kinda too bad some times, Duff...”

He knew he was about to say one of the most difficult things he would ever say. “You have to re-up and if they promote you, and you sure deserve one, or send you some place….then I guess I become a camp follower...”

They both laughed, sort of.

…. “or I can wait for you to come home.” Nothing else to say. He well knew the saying that a Marine is always a Marine whether he’s on active duty or not. He also knew that Duffey, his Duff, had without saying anything, turned down promotions to stay where he was on several occasions. It wasn’t fair to make him keep denying what he was owed and deserved.

“You’re going to try and make it easy for me, Jackass.” His private name for Jack. “...just makes it harder cuz...” He pushed himself up on one arm, looked at the man in the bed next to him…. “Jesus I love you, take that famous bullet for you, anything...” Jack pulled him down, held him, looked at him, kissed him. “You don’t have to make any decisions...” Duffey dropped his head…. “No, no I don’t...until Friday.” He fell on Jack in tears, in anxiety, in fear of leaving this man, this bed, this home….the man who really, finally, didn’t tell him but showed him love, did become, though he would never admit it...the father he wanted.

“Friday.”

“Yeah, I, uh, guess I got involved, forgot to tell you, would have...Did Terry mention it?”

“Sort of...just that it was about time for you to re-up...probably didn’t know...” But he stopped, of course Terry knew; Cop he may have been but paramount to that, he was a Marine and….knew. Not telling his “Dad” was protecting him, giving Duffey the time and the way to tell... This was the man who wanted to be his father protecting him from what was around the corner, just...didn’t say all of it.

“There’s a little bit more, maybe Officer’s Candidate School...it’s a big honor, huge jump in grade, start out as a grunt, even fifteen years later, an officer...I guess I never bothered to think about it, just couldn't happen.”

“You’d be a great officer...”

“Think so?”

“Look at the way you whipped all of us into shape, pass the white glove test everyday….bet Pete even has his horse….”

They both laughed.

“Duff, you have to, there’s just no other answer also...I know how many things you turned down to stay here….turn down one more and….”

“Yeah….nothing will ever be offered again and whether I like it or not….I’d be out of here….”

“Told you that, didn’t they?”

Duffey just nodded his head.

“I’m going to go get a drink….think we need something leveling...how about part of a Merle special?”

Duffey laughed, “...bout half of one. In a smaller glass….” As Jack went down the stairs his Marine pushed his face into a pillow and cried.

Texas.

Jeb and Pete were driving back to the spread where he was the head wrangler. Still feeling the effects of a “drink with Merle”, Pete drove.

“Just made a teetotaler out of me, Jesus, how do you do it?”

“Aw, you’ll get used to it, I did. Well, he’s my granddad so maybe liquor was just in my genes….”

Jeb thought about that as they drove along-his jeans were on the truck bed, still smelling like puke as well as his shirt. Lucky for him, his pants pretty much covered most of his boots, the toes were scrubbed clean, no smell, his hat too far up to catch the urp.

All he hoped was that they weren’t stopped not that the local law wasn't used to liquored up cowboys-almost never put them in jail, just handcuffed them to their steering wheel then tossed the keys on the seat beside them. When they came to enough to figure it out, no problem collecting the keys and moseying on down the road while thinking, ‘Well, Sheeit, ole Sam got me this time...if I could a picked up one more gear, coulda made it to the county line.” And he would have, course…. ‘old Sam’ had called ahead to make sure there was a welcoming party on the other side; Drunks, and especially, drunken cowboys, don’t think that far ahead not that it made any difference. Depending on how busy it was across the county line they might or might not haul ‘em in for a night of sleeping it off or…..park them safely off the side of the road, put up an orange cone behind them, cuff ‘em to the wheel and make sure they were headed into where the sun would rise. Almost sadistic on a bright, clear Texas day when a man’s head did not need bright, sunny and clear in any state, just a warm beer and figure out how to pick up those fucking keys…

Even sobering up, Jeb wasn’t brain dead…. “Didn’t tell ‘em, shit, Pete, that’s why we came over there, to tell ‘em. You ain’t got long they gotta know...”

“They will….”

“They will...when? I say today so turn around, head back, fuck, I’ll even risk another Merle special….”

He did a radical U turn and headed back. “Hey, you do love me, don’t you.”

Jeb tried to nod but that hurt…. just wished his sun glasses could render the sun black as he slid down trying to avoid light of any kind.

Jean looked up and saw a truck, looked familiar, should, it had been on her driveway less than an hour ago. Whatever it is, she felt, it was important, began to wonder where Merle had got to as, surely, this would concern him. Also since she knew Pete was in that truck it had to be important, something they’d both want to know. She was right.

Never one to scuff one boot behind the other, say ‘aw shucks’ and defer the purpose of his call, once he had both grandparents-and Jeb, informally dressed in boxers and a T shirt plus his hat and boots, who was just able to stand up only a few degrees off upright-he made his speech.

“Love you both, love my Dad but….long time ago I set out to do something and it’s time to do it. I wanta be a Marine, go home, find Duffey, let him recruit me and then….well….go be a Marine. Shit, I know what happened, but if I don’t finish this then….that incident drags me by my cock for the rest of my life. So there.”

“Knew keeping you on that saddle would come to some good, got you hard balled, come here, son, your grandma and I want to kiss you, give your our blessing and…..we’ll hold on to that one”, he winked at Jeb which made Jeb uncomfortable wondering how he might ‘hold onto him’,  “until you get back.”

A little stunned at a reception he did not expect, “You mean it, you ain’t mad? I can go?”

“Well, not before tomorrow, first plane out of Houston, if that’s when you wanta go...”

He laughed, “Well, might give it a day or three, one thing….I really want to surprise Duffey….”

Pa swatted his butt, “Hell yes and...Pete….there’s your father.”

The young man was suddenly serious. “Yeah, Dad….hadn’t thought about him...may be a shock I guess he thought….”

“Your father now and always will want for you what’s best for you, what you want and this is something he knows you’ve wanted so get on up there, tell ‘em all…..now….seems like a good moment to have a drink.”

The three turned as, behind them, there was a thud as Jeb hit the ground.

“I’ll have him in shape  by when you need him next,” then poured out.

FRIDAY

Recruiting offices don’t change over the days, weeks or years. One desk for each recruiter-Duffy had always shared the space with a guy from the Army-a chair in front of the desk, posters, flyers to be handed out, couple of extra chairs should there be, like a barber shop, someone to be ‘next’ to sign up. Each wall had the symbol of the force behind the man recruiting for it, in back was a toilet, wash basin plus extra stored reading material for the guys as they came in to either sign up or talk about it. Since he’d arrived, seven Army guys had come and gone, all nice guys, which was why they were recruiters. Of course Duffey felt you couldn’t do better than the Marines, that was to be expected, but he and whoever was selling the ‘other  brand’ as he called it, always got along well and, each Monday, flipped to see who’d wash the large picture windows, one on each side of the glass door on which was painted, ‘Recruiting Office’.

This, however, was a different Friday, he was expecting a Major just after noon who would offer/tell him his future with the Marines. He would accept, shake hands, salute, the man would leave, the Army guy would congratulate him….then he’d sit down to finish out that day now knowing how many more days he’d be there. He was wearing not only his good khaki shirt, with khaki tie, but the jacket that went with it. Best to look like the full dress Marine….Majors notice that sort of thing.

There was a person going by the window, approaching the door, hesitated, looked at the symbols for the two services painted on the windows and started in. Ted, the Army guy, saw him first, looked across the room and commented, “This one’s for you...” Duffey looked up to see a cowboy hat worn over a face he knew and loved.

“Looking for recruits, Sargent?”

Duffey knocked over his chair as he sprang up. “Pete….What the hell...come here, son….” He threw his arms around one of two men in the whole world he loved carefully putting his head on the young man’s shoulder just so he could shake away the couple of tears that snuck out.”

Pete had a bright smile and a pen in one hand. “Where do I sign up, Sargent? That’s what I came for.”

Duffey sat down, hard. “You want to join up?”

“Yes Sir, just like I always have….remember when I was thirteen? Well, I’m 22 and still want to be a Marine, haven’t changed my mind and, a course, there’s only one recruiter I’d let sign me up….guess you know who that is...”

Duffey was having some problems sticking thoughts and sentences together. Almost immediately his usual talk to young men went away, this young man could have said it to him. Sitting there, looking up at the cowboy, his cowboy, Pete, just one thing….

“Your Dad….?”

“I’m fresh from the airport, thought you and I could tell him together, surprise him…”

Duffey couldn’t argue that one. Jack would be surprised, just what kind of surprised he wasn’t sure….he was already giving up one man and now….Duffey seriously worried about how he might take it. The Major would be there to give him his new orders, taking him away, in a few hours and now….his son. He knew that trying to talk him out of it was pointless, it would just piss him off and it wasn’t hard to find another recruiter who would him to the Corps….But Jack….?

Ted, the Army guy, had the presence of mind to realize this went far beyond a private moment so quietly slipped out the back mumbling something about something that needed doing...He’d be back..eventually.

All Duffey could think about was a man he loved who was about to give up one thing he knew but now….there was another blow to him. After the rape, it had never occurred to Jack or Duffey that Pete’s interest in any sort of service still existed, why would it? Fuck, he still had the rough brand of a cock and balls on his ass….how it got there could easily have persuaded any man that….the Marines, Army, Air Force, Navy, hell, even the French Foreign Legion was beyond what he might want to do, join, even consider….but the obsession of a thirteen year old dies hard, if at all. Duffey stood in a shadow created by a door and wondered...what to do now? He could not refuse to enlist him, didn’t matter who he was, what the circumstances of which he was personally aware, the man walked in, wanted to join…. But what he wanted was just a little time. Somehow he knew Jack had to be told before the papers were signed….Jack….

Still holding him in his arms, Duffey needed to tell him…. “Pete...later today a Major from the Corps is coming, I’ll get new orders, be out of here….” He could feel the young man grip him harder, the shock, this wasn’t what he expected, like his father….he just assumed, Duffey, recruiting, sleeping in a bed with his Dad, going on…..well….who knew? Nothing would change, they were happy, he was happy for them….only Duffey holding him kept him from running out the door, finding his father, demanding that it all turn back...to yesterday on the plane when he thought about how it was...as they circled to land, could see their home, the pool….the Marine emblem now painted on the bottom….he guessed who had that done. But that was yesterday and it was dust blowing away….

He was thirteen again, his mother was dying and….all he could think to do to help was….leave. Be a Marine. His grandparents, his father...all of them were quiet, not shushing him but, on those moments when he could go in to see his Mom….maybe….maybe if he could tell her something she’d be proud of him for doing….He’d always liked the Marines, in the movies they were the good guys. The Marine in the recruiting service, a Sargent, looked just like what he wanted to be, ramrod straight, crew cut hair, attentive to him. Didn’t laugh, asked him questions, not the least of which was his age so gradually, this man, this Sargent Duffey, got the very sad story. A kid wanting to do a good deed for a dying woman. He could not just say, “Come back when you’re older.” No, for one thing, no Marine ever turned down a candidate who seemed to have promise, even if they were only 13.

That day he let Pete, the kid’s name, talk until the tears ran, until he could tell the Sargent what it would mean to him...to his Mom….The Sargent let the afternoon end, shadows cross the floor, time to close up, time to offer to take the young man home to ‘talk about what he wanted’ but most of all, to meet the family of a young man who wanted to sacrifice….something to help even if he didn’t know how or what….but….help.

This morning, boots, shined, pressed shirt, Levi’s-Okay, he noticed the swelling where a cowboy wanted to swell-held onto his best friend, his other father and tried to understand….Duffey was going away. From his Dad? They loved each other….It just fell out of his mouth.

“You can’t leave him, you can’t….Dad loves you...Duffey, please...” The tears in his eyes made the deep brown brilliant, his face almost contorted with not understanding, grief, fear…. “Duffey….I...love you…” The man knew that, remembered back to the first time he’d caught Pete and some man fucking in the pool house. Pete. 16. The guy ran off but Pete...consumed with embarrassment just lay on the cum sticky sheets crying….That’s when he picked him up, kissed him, told him it was all right, took him to the shower, told him to stay there until he came back, changed the sheets, went back, got him, leaned him against him, put him back in bed then sat by him rubbing his back saying nothing but everything. That was also when he carefully undressed and got into bed with the young man making him something he would need; Protection from other men and….his first lover. Later that night, when Pete had calmed, he first blew him then told him he needed to be fucked….:Pete had looked at him, the calm face, the slight smile, the hand down on his cock warming him…. “I want a good Marine fucking...might as well  learn to do it now...you’re gonna be a Marine….” Smiled at him then got up on all fours, impossible to not understand what had to happen next. It was tentative but it happened and the next morning one happy young man and one  Marine slept.

That was then. Pete was almost comatose, unbelieving that his world had just collapsed. No Duffey….going away….someplace else….his Dad. “Have you told….?”

“Pete, he’s the one who told me I had to go….because he loves me. Know how you love the Corps? Well, it’s my life. Before you it was all I had, what you, your Dad, Merle, Jean...what all of you did was just enhance my being in the Corps….you want to join up, I want you to join up and someday...you’ll see how it’s not just the Corps but the people who love you, that you love ‘cause without them, without your pride in you….you don’t have much. Pete, I was an orphan, the Corps was my family until...well, remember? You came in, thirteen, ready to join and….that’s when my real life began...I just didn’t know it.” He looked at a face, still confused, not knowing what to do, wondering…..

He thought about the situation, Pete’s very real desire and….Jack….his pride in ‘his’ Marine……

He made a sudden decision.

“Son, sit down, you’ve got some papers to sign and, tonight, we’re gonna tell your Dad he has two sons in the Marines.” They looked at each other, sat down while Duffey took out some papers, one in particular which he turned toward Pete…. “Marine, I think we can dispense with the other shit, sign here.” He did, they looked at each other, saluted then shook hands.

Night

All of them, Jack, Terry, Ian sat at the table in the kitchen looking at two men, one not usually there, and never saying what they now heard. Duffey had been re-posted….to the nearest base, close enough for weekends at home and….Pete, holding the paper in his hand, off to be a Marine. Nobody said much...just smiled, well, all but Jack who seemed to have lost any facial expression. Finally struggled out…. “Merle and Jean know?”

Pete seemed puzzled, “Dad, Pa put me on the plane in Houston, ‘course he knows, said he made me hard balled so I could be a Marine.”

Jack could hear his father-in-law say that and salute it with a glass full of  Bourbon.

“When?”

“The usual, thirty days….sorta got a thirty day leave to be here with my…..family….my bros….” He smiled at Terry and Ian. “My Dads...He, Duffey, sure he isn’t too old to sign him up?” He wasn’t kidding.

Jack spit the beer he was drinking part way across the room, Duffey laughed...Terry and Ian put their heads on the table….didn’t want to point out the slight age problem but also admired Pete for wanting for his Dad what he was getting for himself. The question went unanswered, none was needed.

Later that night in his old room that, to him, now didn’t even seem familiar save for one thing, a naked Marine, hard cocked, and ready to make his own welcome to the Corps.