Joe felt almost sick. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was never going to admit – even to himself – that he was to all intents and purposes a virgin. He hadn’t been with any man, because he’d always fought against what he wanted. Back home, in a run-down estate in a shitty town in England. A home that was not his anymore. Legio Patria Nostra. The legion was his home now, and he wasn’t going to risk this newfound life.
Then why did he sneak out of the common rooms at five minutes before twenty-one hundred hours, and into the deserted stores? The sergent was playing him and his weakness, and Joe was perfectly aware of it. He didn’t want to be gay, refused to be a “fag,” yet he quietly opened the door and stepped into the darkness of the store.
A faint sound came from across the room, a deliberate shuffle of a boot, and then the sizzle of a flame as a match was lit, lighting a gas lamp. The yellow light illuminated the man who leaned against a tightly packed row of boxes. The face was cast in stark shadow, picking out the shape of the aquiline nose and throwing the sharp features into an even more stunning relief.
Joe didn’t know what was expected of him, but he nevertheless walked across the room after closing the door. The sergent gave him no order, not even a clue, just kept silently watching, until Joe stood in front of him. At a loss.
Eventually, Roux reached for his own beret and pulled it off his head, placing it beside the gas lamp. Joe tracked the hand, the beret, the play of darkness and light, until he lost sight of the hand as it reached for him, fingers splaying in the back of his neck. A slight pressure, pulling him towards the sergent, but there was no command, just a nonverbal request. Joe followed, because there was nothing else he neither could nor wanted to do.
The touch of his lips on the sergent’s was like a shock to his system. Unlike the frantic madness in the jungle, this time it was deliberate. The moment they kissed, Roux became demanding, and Joe was swept into the heat and lust within seconds. The sergent’s hands were on his uniform, brushing his beret off, pulling him close and pressing him against the other’s hard body.
When Roux turned them round, Joe followed, took the need as an order and obeyed the unspoken command. His back hit the wall of boxes, and he couldn’t breathe in air quickly enough, because need burnt all oxygen from his blood. It overpowered him, and he submitted willingly.