Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

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“This is stupid.” Raphael Lopez groaned. It was easy enough to see why he was complaining about the pointless choir. At nearly one hundred and thirty degrees it was literally getting to the point where you could fry an egg on the local rocks. On the short list of things that made the heat even more unbearable than it was being punished for whatever random bullshit reasons the higher ups could think up.

Today’s game was a familiar one, partially because it served some legit purposes aside from torture. Lopez, Private First Class Lopez, and his fellow victim, Shaun Simmons were filling sandbags. One hundred sandbags that would replace several of the bags currently in use. Some of them had holes in them, others had split in the sun but the majority were still perfectly serviceable. There were definitely more than enough to hold all the tent flaps down in even the worst Iraqi sand storms. Which didn’t really matter since they were living in an underground bunker anyway. The only things living in tents at this point was the actual ordinance and that wasn’t because the sand was damaging the bombs, it was because several rounds had managed to cook off in the insane desert heat.

“Shut up and get it done Lopez.” Corporal Renaud barked from the back of the Hum V. Unlike the two Marines working with the undersized shovels they’d been issued and dressed in full digital camouflage Renaud was wearing a pair of green shorts and boots that looked utterly ridiculous together. The thing was while he was sweltering as well he made it almost fun with his sunglasses and sipping from a bottle of Sprite that was more vodka than Sprite. Nobody was quite sure how he was getting it but it seemed like once a month or so he was able to get some booze and as long as he shared it nobody questioned him too hard. “I know it looks like I don’t mind being out here watching you fucking Shitbirds dig in the dirt but I’d really rather be back at camp playing eight on eight Halo 3.”

Simmonsl looked up for a moment then lowered his head and continued digging and filling the sandbags up. It was becoming the most common activity for him and it showed. When he’d came to Kuwait he’d been on the wait loss program and struggled to keep anybody from noticing how much he was filling out. Now three months into Iraq he was tightening his belt and admiring the definition of his arms as well as his newly bronzed skin. It didn’t make him appreciate filling sandbags three days a week but it at least made it a little easier when he could see the results.

Like most of his unit Simmonsl was enjoying, almost to the point of abuse the lax regulations on shaving and hair cuts in the field. His hair was nearly long enough to run his fingers through, gaziantep escort and while technically only slightly out of regulation would have gotten his ass chewed to a stump back stateside. It felt almost sinful, and he was enjoying the noticeable stubble even more. It somehow made him feel more masculine and like he was going into the shit even though as and Ordinance Technician he was only in the shit for real if he got lucky, otherwise he was strictly in the rear with the gear. The other extreme was Lopez. He’d actually managed to put on weight in Iraq. The combination of MREs which are designed in the most technical sense to be the only meal for a day and are assuming you’re in combat or at least humping to a new location are just packed with calories. That combined with the lack of PT had put on several pounds, not enough to cause him any trouble but it was easily noticed. While he didn’t mind being able to grow his hair out a bit and even his beard he hated being covered in sand and sweat. He loved training for his job and probably wouldn’t have minded if a war broke out in New York and he got to sleep in a real bed and not deal with camel spiders he hated doing his job at least in Iraq.

“Okay you two know why you’re here right?” Renaud spat sitting up. “I mean why it’s you two and not Humphreys and Radney or Walkosz and Borrego right?”

“No Corporal.” Lopez answered dropping his E Tool and turning towards his NCO. He had been a rich brown before coming to Iraq like a lot of Mexicans but the constant sunshine had roasted him into a much deeper hue.

“Okay let me be clear. I don’t give a shit, in fact if you two give me your word you’ll STFU I’ll do what I can to make this shit go away. Understood?” Both men nodded. “Everybody knows you two are fucking faggots. I’m sure you aren’t the only two out here but you gotta do a better job of fucking covering that shit up. Don’t ask don’t tell really means don’t let a muthafucka know okay? If you guys would be a little more secretive you might fill less sandbags. Under-fuckin-stood?” Renaud said. Again his response was a pair of nods. “So you two are gonna keep this shit under wraps from now on right? You two being goddamn butt pirates is fucking top secret. Treat it the same as you would the President’s travel plans and we’ll be fuckin straight.” For a third time there were nods all around. “Good to fuckin go. For the record, I don’t give a shit whose . . . shit you push in. It honestly ain’t my goddamn business. The only thing I give a shit about if is you’ve got my back when we’re knee deep in the shit and I know both of you do. So remember I didn’t tell you this shit, I don’t know, I will fuckin deny this shit to my grave and anybody else who is sent to you who is in will hook you up. I can’t fix it all but I can fix some of it. Anyway finish the bags you flaggots are on and get in.”

It was just a few minutes later that they had driven from what amounted to the middle of nowhere, a stretch of road between the Ordnance Camp and Tent City where everybody else lived into Tent City. The Corporal told them to keep driving and he’d tell them when and where to stop. It took about twenty minutes but he found what he was looking for. An army camp ready to break down with more than one hundred sandbags. He made them bring back almost one hundred and sixty but it was worth it. The job had been meant to take an entire afternoon and had instead only taken half that amount of time and at the same time produced more bags than they’d expected. It was enough that nobody questioned Renaud’s methods.

Simmonsl and Lopez made it a point to avoid each other the rest of the day. They even went as far as to play on opposite teams during the nightly Halo matches who seemed to make the day drag on but they managed somehow to get through it all. It was past midnight when a nearly silent signal alerted Simmonsl that it was time to move beyond the dunes. He let Lopez had a nearly fifteen minute head start before they headed out to their special spot.

There wasn’t much special about it, really wasn’t anything special about anything in Kuwait. It was just desert, sand on top of sand without even the benefit of cacti to break up the monotony. Sure they had some crazy beasts, giant lizards, monster spiders and the occasional religious icon but overall it was easy to understand why people from this bleak end of nowhere were going crazy.

“You think maybe Corporal Renaud was being straight with us?” Simmonsl broke the ice. Before moving onto any other business.

“Maybe. I know you haven’t worked a lot with him but he’s always been cool with me. He’s known for a while. I thought at first he was cool because, you know he was part of the club, which is how he found out. When I threw a few hints and he didn’t say shit I figured he was one of us. I can tell you that you he ain’t and he’s known who I am for a year and he hasn’t said one word. I can also say you and me seem to be filling a lot more sandbags than anybody else.” Lopez confided. His mind was already focused on something else. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“Kinda do.” Simmonsl replied. “I mean let’s be straight. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me. It’s just that we ain’t got nobody else to fuck out here and I’ll be damned if I’ma go nine months without gettin laid. Hell we’ve both seen how many guys go back and forth to the WM tent. Maybe he’s really looking out for us. Honestly makes more sense than anything else. Sides we can’t exactly request Court Martial for discrimination cus we ain’t allowed to tell anybody we’re gay.”

“Fuck.” Lopez grunted. That was the unfortunate truth. The Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Policy effectively made homosexuality a crime. It didn’t matter one bit that Lopez was as willing to die for his country as any man, more than most actually since he’d joined the Marines. It didn’t matter that he was good at his job, the only thing about him that mattered was that he didn’t like women. That single fact was more important than his expert rifle skills. “Fine, maybe we want to figure out a better way to meet.”

“I’ll work on it. For now let’s just enjoy what we’ve got okay?” Simmonsl grabbed Lopez and kissed him hard. There was a difference between men and women kissing and two men. There was no pretense of tenderness. It was just brutal, almost like combat and a hint of greed when they kissed. Simmonsl wasn’t trying to get Lopez off in the least. He was trying to get off and that was the only thing he was really focused on.

“God I want to feel it in me tonight.” Lopez grunted. He was already rock hard, he’d been that way almost continually since he’d gotten back to camp and started thinking about his nightly liaison.

“Stop fuckin around.” Simmonsl grunted working to unbutton the fly of his trousers; Lopez had already removed his own and leaned over a pile of sandbags invitingly.

“Chill the fuck out Simmonsl. Fuck me and let’s get back, like Renaud said we aren’t foolin anybody.” He gripped the sand bags as the initial pain of being filled shot through him but that was over in a moment replaced with the pleasant full feeling he wanted. “Damn feels great every time.” He started pushing back.

Simmonsl was silent at that point just pounding away at Lopez who didn’t seem to mind the near grudge fuck. He seemed to getting off on it, other wise he would have been quieter. Not that they needed to be particularly quiet, they were separated from the next living human by a few hundred yards and several tons of layered sand. They could shout at the tops of their lungs and not been heard. If he’d been quieter it would have taken longer before Simmons came but hearing the moans just got to him.

“That was quick.” Lopez teased jerking off for a few more seconds before dumping his load in the sand and covering it up. “You know the worst part is that I didn’t even choose to be gay. Women just don’t do it for me. It doesn’t make me a freak.”

“No, what makes you a freak is letting a guy fuck you in the ass. The fucked up part is that I’m not ashamed that I’m gay and I hate that when everybody else brings their girlfriends and wives to the barbeques I have to pretend like I’m ashamed of mine.” Simmons commented.

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