In His Sights (Don't Tell) by Rie Warren

mated with Ryder the pessimist, the protector, the pain in my ass. Birdie was twenty years my senior and a little on the hefty side with round rosy cheeks. She looked like a grandmother but had mean-ass aim with her crossbow. Among the others, the gray-haired old geezer was there, the man I’d left by the roadside the night I’d trapped Hawke.
    His name was Aryck and he’d sat across the campfire from me one night, grinning widely. “Remember me, son?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m glad to see you made it.” I’d been on the verge of killing him.
    “I’m glad to see you figured out common sense is more to your likin’ than brute force.”
    We shared a handshake and that was that. Hawke’s group was a mixed bag of young and old, each with their own specific skill. They lived and worked harmoniously together for the most part. Aside from the sound of their talk and laughter, the birds and other forest creatures, it was almost peaceful out here in the middle of the Wilderness. But worry niggled at me. Their acceptance of a corpsman seemed far too easy to be copacetic even though I never sensed a true threat.
    Every early evening when we stopped for the night, I took the hunting detail with Hawke. I wanted him alone. Tonight he tracked a deer, his sight keen, his steps silent after finally ditching the walking stick. His shirt hung from the waist of his pants, dragging them lower over muscles rippling with each step. A light sheen of perspiration made his back shimmer as each sinew tensed. He notched an arrow. It was the first time I’d seen him use such a weapon. His expert handling of the bow knocked the breath from me and I groaned.
    The deer crashed away from us.
    Hawke slung the bow across his back, turning to me. “You scared it off.”
    “I—”
    “Jesus, Mayce. You’re blushing?” He stalked closer and I stood as still as the deer had before him. “You know what that does to me? Seein’ my sexy soldier tongue-tied.”
    Licking my lips, I stood my ground. “No.”
    His smile was slow and wicked. “Makes me fuckin’ hard.” His eyes gleamed as his chest pressed against me.
    His erection, thick and solid, rubbed mine. His lips dragged across my mouth. His tongue trailed slickness and heat until I moaned at his teasing touch that was so quick to fire me up and never enough to quench the flames.
    “Seein’ me with an arrow, frettin’ it…pulling it tight…that does it for you?”
    My cock almost exploded in my pants. I grabbed his long ponytail of dreads and twisted it around my knuckles. “You do it for me.”
    Finally his tongue stole into my mouth. He pushed me up to a tree, the bark biting my bare back. Grinding against me, Hawke slipped his hands down my chest, working my pants open. His goatee skimmed my neck, making me crazy with lust. I held onto him with both hands gripping the muscles of his shoulders.
    “Oh! Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Birdie’s high voice cut like glass through the erotic haze.
    She stood a couple meters away from us. Her plump cheeks blazed and her eyes brightened with laughter as she clasped a hand over her mouth.
    I beat my head against the tree. “Fuuuuck.”
    Hawke laughed at me, doing up my pants and laying a kiss on my shoulder. “Next time.”
    I’d be crawling out of my skin by the time next time arrived. Shit.

    * * * *
    The night before we expected to reach Shoals commune, I cleaned up more carefully than usual. There was a lake nearby our small clearing, and I walked there alone. The water was cool, fresh, invigorating. I soaped up, shaved, even washed the clothes I’d been wearing; the Corps shirt and dark blue trousers of my old uniform, my old life. I wondered what existence on the commune would entail for me. I wasn’t exactly cut out to be a farmer or a fisherman. Fighting and staying alive were all I’d ever known.
    I left the clean clothes to dry for a bit and dug through my pack for a spare set. Not wanting to arouse suspicion