Extreme Measures

Sam Crockett stands tall, his voice a whipcrack in the dim barracks. He eyes Kyle McKenna, the fresh-faced recruit quivering with anticipation. 'On your knees,' Sam commands, and Kyle drops, eager hands fumbling at the sergeant's belt. Sam guides him, firm grip on that tousled hair, as Kyle's lips part to take the thick length in. He works him slow at first—teasing licks, then deeper swallows—until Sam's breath hitches, a low growl escaping. Not enough. Sam hauls Kyle up, spins him against the wall. Fingers probe, slick and insistent, stretching that tight entrance. Kyle gasps, arches. Sam doesn't wait; he thrusts in hard, pounding with the rhythm of a man who breaks soldiers. Sweat slicks their skin, bodies slamming together in raw, unyielding rhythm. Kyle moans, takes it all, proving his mettle stroke by stroke.