Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property,
and I am not making money off of them. That's all I have to say.

Camouflage: Man in a Uniform #1 by J.C.

"oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshit..."

Blair Sandburg was trying not to speak out loud, but the sounds were forcing their way through his clenched teeth, harsh breaths causing his chest to ache as he ran. Ran for his life. He was being stalked. Hunted.

He couldn't see what was following him, couldn't hear anything, but he knew something was there. Somewhere. Behind him, to his left or right, maybe even waiting somewhere in front of him. He couldn't tell for sure. All he could do was run.

The air was hot and thick, and the foliage was even thicker, as Blair made his way through the jungle. He had no idea where he was going; just that he felt he had to keep moving. Afraid of what he might see, he didn't look around. Not that he could see much anyway through the drops of sweat stinging his eyes.

Invisibly, the hunter slowly tracked his prey, stopping every so often to listen carefully, noting the changes in the air, sniffing for that particular scent, then moving on.

Damp strands of hair flew against Blair's face and he swatted them away, wiping at his eyes, every muscle in his body straining. He blindly made his way through the underbrush, praying that he'd find the strength to keep upright. The last thing he wanted to do was fall. He ran until he felt he couldn't take another step, and then he ran some more.

The hunter picked up the pace. His sleek muscles shone under a thin layer of sweat, his whole body moving efficiently like the finely tuned machine that it was. His eyes focused in the distance, watching his prey. The low sounds his target made spurred him on. The smell was spicy and strong. He increased his speed again. It was almost time.

'This is it,' Blair thought. His chest protested with every breath, and if he couldn't breathe - he couldn't run. He didn't have a backup plan. And he could hear something close by. Even over the crazy pounding of his heart, he could hear it getting closer. Blair understood that if whatever was hunting him no longer cared about being heard, then time was running out. Focusing on his thoughts, not paying attention to his path, Blair stumbled. He braced himself, stifling a scream; ready for the pounce of the jungle cat he now pictured in his head.

Nothing.

He spun around, falling against a tree, looking wildly in all directions, trying desperately to fill his lungs with air. Cornered, surrendering, preparing to meet his fate. And there it was. A flash of something that could have been nothing. But Blair knew.

The hunter sensed his victory. It had taken little effort, but was no less sweet. He left the shadows and approached his prey.

Blair squinted, trying to focus on the spot where he had detected motion. Trying to make out something in the dense growth. And then from another direction, the hunter made his presence known.

Blair's heart tripped and then started running again.

It was a man. Well, that was an understatement, but definitely a male human. Tall and muscular, he was silently moving closer. What little clothes he wore seemed to be part of a uniform. Camouflage pants that were tucked into boots encased his strong legs, belted at his trim waist. His chest was broad, defined, and bare. His arms were marked with what looked like tribal war paint, and his strong, chiseled face was smudged and shadowed. An army-colored cloth was tied bandanna-like around his head, and his eyes were chips of blue ice sparkling with a feral gleam. Blair was frozen in place. Trapped.

The hunter had one thought: 'Mine,' as he moved steadily forward.

Blair was shaking. Okay, maybe he wasn't going to die, at least not by the actions of a wild animal. Then again, this guy was definitely primal, jungle cat personified. And he was getting closer.

Instinctively, Blair moved back, only to be stopped by the tree. He was considering making a run for it, but before the thought had totally formed, the soldier was there, blocking all escape routes, holding Blair with those eyes.

"Who are you?" The shaking in Blair's voice rivaled the shaking of his body.

The man didn't answer; instead he raised one large hand and touched Blair's hair. Fingering it, letting it slide gently over his rough palm. Blair opened his mouth to speak again, but then the man leaned closer, nuzzling in the fall of curls, growling.

A callused hand pressed Blair back by his shoulder, firmly holding him in place. He could feel the rough texture of the tree through the layers of his clothing. The growling sent sparks through him, and when he felt the bite on his neck, he was helpless to stop his own soft sounds from filling the air.

The hunter sniffed his prey, moving his nose from the mass of hair to the skin behind the ear. Imprinting the scent of that which belonged to him, then moving lower to places more sensitive, more responsive. The minute the smell of fear faded, leaving the richer, more fragrant scent of arousal, the hunter made his move. He found the pulse, the natural beat that throbbed against his tongue, and he bit the tender skin covering it. He bit softly at first, then harder, making his mark, making his point. The sounds his quarry made stirred his blood, and he felt his urges rise to greater heights. He soothed the sore place he had made, then moved to make another, and another, until quiet whimpers became throaty groans.

Blair couldn't move. Held in place by one hand, and one mouth. Those were the only contact points. He could feel the solid warmth in front of him, but it wasn't touching him. His hands were clenched by his side, aching to reach out, but afraid to upset the balance, to somehow throw things off, to break the spell and lose the feel of that hand and that mouth. Now the shaking wasn't from fear, but from desire, and a primitive need to be taken by the one who had conquered him.

The soldier wanted more. Removing his hand, he stared into the eyes of his captive, waiting. Satisfied that there would be no attempt at escape, he reached out to rid the smaller man of his coverings. His fingers met resistance, so he firmly pulled apart the two sides of the shirt, buttons spilling onto the jungle floor, silently rolling away. He let out a series of dissatisfied noises when he realized that there was more underneath. A quick tear of this thinner fabric, and then he was biting again.

It was the most intense feeling Blair had ever known. His breathing was out of control, and he was holding back the screams by sheer will alone. Bites just to the point of pain, wet tonguing that soothed, nibbles that tingled. His nipples were wonderfully achy under the onslaught, trails of sensual fire left across his chest and stomach, and he wanted more. He wanted to feel those hands. Tentatively, he raised his own hands, and reached out until he encountered the hardness of the chest of his pursuer.

The hunter bit down hard, caught off guard by the teasing touch across his chest. He could feel his nipples harden, as if seeking outwards to get more of that sensation. The moan that tore from him was guttural and wild. And he was on the hunt again. Searching.

Blair hissed through clenched teeth, thinking he had made a terrible mistake. He jerked his hands back, afraid to repeat any contact. Then he felt the hunter moving up his body, pressing closer. The rumbling in the man's chest, accompaniment to his untamed sounds, had Blair trembling. And then their eyes met again. Blair stared, lost and powerless. The face moved closer and he was unable to hold the gaze. He wasn't so lost that he didn't know what was coming, and he was ready to lose himself to that as well. His eyes closed and he lifted his face slightly to receive the kiss.

The word 'mine' was repeating itself in the soldier's head, over and over, and it felt good and right. As he was about to take his fill of the smaller man's lips, he was compelled to voice his claim. He whispered in the ear of the one who was his. "Mine...mine...mine...mineminemine..." And then he was being kissed, and it took his breath away.

Blair couldn't stand it. He was so filled with need, that it was not just a matter of the straining in his groin, it was an aching in his heart. He needed something and a deep voice was in his ear repeating a word that made his heart and his cock beat double time and it was so close... and so he turned his face, seeking out that mouth, making it respond to him.

The hunter had been tracked and caught, and he gave his prey that small victory because it was so good, and because they'd only just begun. He planted his hands on either side of the tree, purposely not touching, or drawing the smaller man closer. The taste was overwhelming and he knew that he couldn't hold out too much longer without exploding, but he tightened his control. He was waiting for his captive to give in first. And he wasn't disappointed. The small hands came up pulling him in, rubbing the muscles of his back, sliding lower to grasp hungrily at the mounds of his ass. He allowed just a brief moment for their groins to grind together, then he reached behind him, grabbing the seeking hands, and removing them from his body. He crossed the wrists, gripping them in a closed fist, placing them high overhead against the tree. With his free hand he made his next move.

Blair was dizzy, fighting to keep standing under his own power. His knees were weak, and he was hungry. He kissed, and licked, and nibbled, taking as much from the soldier's mouth as he could. Sucking in the tongue, loving that feeling of being filled, even if it was just a tongue in his mouth. Emboldened by the response to his kiss, Blair hazarded a touch once again. It was either that or melt into the jungle floor. The sweat-slick back was heaven under his fingers, and his palms itched to feel the hardness of the soldier's ass. He grabbed on and pulled in closer, and was just letting his body set its own natural rhythm, gasping at the thick hardness that moved against his own, when his arms were suddenly stretched high, held over his head in a strong grip.

The pants proved little trouble for the hunter, not when the ultimate prize lay in wait for him. Nothing would have stopped him, and the eagerness of his captive showed in the way the cock sprang free, jumping into the soldier's waiting hand. He unbuckled his own belt, intending to use it to bind the wrists he held, but he decided he wanted something else more. He wanted to know once again the minute the hands could no longer hold back, the minute that they needed the anchor he provided.

Blair's hands were free. His cock was free. And he wanted, needed, the freedom of climax, needed his cum to burst free before he exploded under the pressure. He held onto the tree, staying in place, shaking from the inside out at being made to wait.

A proud monument of flesh, rising in his view, and the hunter was on his knees, ready to take that first taste. In effect, the captor worshipping his prisoner, but at that moment appearances didn't matter and were very deceiving. The pearly drops gracing the head of the cock drew him in, and he licked them away before taking the young man all the way into his mouth.

"oh shit...oh shit...ohshitohshithohshit..." Blair's hands immediately clamped down on the broad shoulders of the man kneeling before him.

Sucking up and down, washing the hardness in the wetness of his mouth, bringing his prey to the brink, once, then twice, until the need to finish it boiled up inside him stronger than inside the one leaving those seemingly permanent fingerprints on his shoulders. The need to taste the essence, to drink the juices, to swallow the offering pushed him to grant release. And when it came, filling his mouth, it was sweet, and spicy, and all his.

The scream that had been threatening to tear loose, finally escaped Blair's lips, and it felt good to let go - screaming into the air as he came in his hunter's mouth. And finally he did melt, his legs giving way till he was on the ground in the strongest arms that had ever been around him, tasting himself when his mouth was taken in a kiss.

The soldier stood, unfastening his pants, reaching inside to reveal his intentions. When he removed his hands, his cock was hanging heavily between his legs, fighting gravity to get even larger, even harder. The conquering warrior ready to ultimately claim his victory and mount his prize.

Blair's mouth went dry, his throat went dry, he was sure that every moist place inside him went dry. He had never seen a more awesome sight, and as much as he wanted it, he was afraid there was no way he would be able to handle it.

Fear. The fear was back, spiking sharply into the musk of arousal that hung in the air around them. The hunter reached out a hand. When the smaller man took it, he helped him to his feet. He situated him against the tree, facing away, and took a knife from his pocket, squatting down to cut away the pants that had fallen around the younger man's ankles.

Blair heard the sound of a knife opening behind him and clenched his eyes shut. When he felt his pants being removed, he looked over his shoulder. The soldier was taking a flask from his pocket, and moving closer, knife in hand. Blair closed his eyes again, gasping as the knife was stuck into the tree at a spot high above his head. Then, a slick finger traced a line above his upper lip, continuing along to the corner of his mouth. A sweet aroma filled his nose, and then the soldier was kissing him softly, licking at the fragrant oil.

The older man poured out more oil, coating two fingers, then probing in the crease of the rounded ass, watching the arms tighten as they held on to the tree. He nipped gently at the presented flesh until the scent of fear faded, leaving lust in its place. He dropped again to his knees, and his tongue sought out the final treasure. Taking his pleasure in the taste as he prepared the way for his ultimate possession.

Pleasure rippled from Blair's ass to his cock and back again in a repeating cycle of sexual delight. Even the pain of two fingers entering him, scissoring back and forth, stretching him, was too brief to interrupt the flow. Then, there were three. The pressure and fullness had him rocking to an unheard beat, and the sense of loss was great when the three fingers left him empty. He felt himself being turned around, and he knew the moment of ultimate surrender had come.

Th soldier took one of the young man's hands, cupping it and filling it with oil. He sucked in a breath at the feel of a strong grip closing around him, firmly slicking him up, sliding up and down, preparing him. It felt so good he was tempted to take his pleasure from that alone, the howl of beastly pleasure already trying to escape, but there was something better just within his reach.

Blair whimpered when the hunter pressed forward, backing him against the tree, that hardened weapon of flesh poking him insistently. He was lifted up and he automatically wrapped his legs around the firm body, gripping the shoulders for dear life. He felt the positioning; the enormous jolt as the flared head made its presence known. He was lubed, he was ready, but he was tight, and his captor was huge, and the pain/pleasure almost made him pass out.

The soldier felt his knees quiver, and clamped down on the need to push, to possess, to roughly stake his claim, now. He forced himself to move slowly, to savor every moment of entering paradise.

"Oh shit! Oh, shit!" Damn, he was filled, fuller than he could imagine. And it was good. Blair felt the hands gripping his ass, squeezing, scratching, and he cried out. His hips moved, setting a rhythm, begging to be taken harder and faster, as he took his oily palm to stroke himself while pinching the soldier's nipple with his other hand. He wasn't sure how they stayed upright, with all of the moving, because he wasn't holding on, just letting the cock in his ass keep him in position. He knew that he would be marked, first from the bites, then the scratches, and now the tree scraping at his back. But all he could feel was the intensity and it was so strong he felt it would never end. Like he would be suspended there, breathing in the humid jungle air, impaled, and hard, forever.

The hunter had his prey in his clutches and nothing had ever been better. His grip was slipping as he slammed in and out, fingers slightly losing their hold on the mounds of flesh, leaving visible scratches as he pumped his hips over and over. The spikes of pleasure that traveled from his nipple all converged on the head of his dick, making it throb deep within the slick heat, and as much as he wanted it to last forever, he knew the end was near.

The jungle reverberated with the sounds of twin shouts of pleasure. The hunter claiming his prey - the captive surrendering to his captor. One mighty thrust and the two men climaxed, white hot spurts striping a broad muscular chest, and a creamy flood coating a tight passage. Together they eased to the ground, breathing in the scent of sex, heat, and each other.

The hunter whispered, "mine..."

Blair answered softly, "...yours."

Blair woke from his light doze when he heard the sound of a key scratching at the front door to the loft. He shook himself to clear his head, feeling the cool dampness surrounding his softening cock. Clutched in his left hand was a picture of Jim at the time of his rescue from Peru. "Oh, man..."

Jim entered the loft and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his partner. "What's up, Chief? What's with all of this stuff?"

Blair pulled a stack of papers into his lap. "Hey. Just looking for something and got a little sidetracked."

Jim moved closer, puzzling over the distinct smell in the air. "That's it?"

"Yeah, go take a shower, I'm gonna fix something to eat."

"Fine, but clean up this mess, huh?"

Blair began stuffing papers and pictures back in a box when something caught his eye. A picture of Jim in his Ranger uniform, beret and all...

THE END