One Way or the Other
- Views
- 1
- Author
- sr71plt
- Genres
- Gay Sex Stories
- Tags
- historical, military, older-younger, outdoors, reluctance, voyeur
- Status
- Completed
Summary
But I was a trooper and did what I was told to do; and now, for the good of my country, I needed it get back out to sea. I couldn’t be caught here on Cuban soil. The shit would really hit the fan for an American combatant’s sorry ass to be captured in this circle jerk.
I heard a metallic click that made the hair stand up at the back of my head. I instinctively dropped while turning to the sound and bringing my pistol up. My training had been true, because the bullet passed by me rather than catching me full force in the chest.
Close onto the tail end of the report from the rifle high up in the branch of the tree came the sound from my answering pistol shot.
I had been luckier and a truer shot than my assailant had been. There was great agitation of leaves and branches above and in front of me, and a body dropped to the ground at the base of the tree.
Either the young man’s clothes had been ripped almost to shreds as he fell, or he had been dressed in shredded rags to begin with, because his shirt and trousers were largely torn away from him as he hit the ground.
He was bleeding from the head and his eyes were closed, but I didn’t think he was dead. I moved quickly over to him and tore his shirt the rest of the way off and felt his chest. Still breathing. I looked down at him. He was an unearthly handsome young man. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. He was small of stature but very well formed, with the fine facial structure of Spanish stock, just barely mixed with the Mestizo genes, which gave him a milk-chocolate skin coloring that only enhanced his beauty. My bullet had grazed his temple, which, in combination with the fall, had knocked him unconscious. For how long, though, I didn’t know. And unconscious wasn’t dead. He may have seen me well enough to know that I wasn’t a Cuban exile, that I was an honest-to-god American. And having no one who was left here knowing that an American was here was only second in importance to getting back off the island and not being captured here.