Active Duty - Hunter | And Bailey -gay-

Hunter’s thumb traced Bailey’s jawline. "Don’t call me that when you’re in my lap."

Bailey set the MRE down and turned to face him fully. In the dim red light of the tent, his eyes looked almost golden. "I’m a medic. Worrying about you is literally my job. But this?" He reached out and placed a hand over Hunter’s clenched fist. "This isn’t the job."

When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, Bailey let out a shaky laugh. "Took you long enough, Sergeant." Active Duty - Hunter and Bailey -Gay-

"They won’t," Bailey said softly. "Not unless we tell them. And I’m not asking for a parade, Hunter. I’m asking you to stop pretending you don’t feel this."

"You need to stop worrying about me," Hunter said, voice low. "That’s an order." Hunter’s thumb traced Bailey’s jawline

Then Hunter moved. Not fast, not reckless—but deliberate. He cupped the back of Bailey’s neck with his scarred hand and pulled him in. The kiss was chaste at first, a question. Then Bailey answered, lips parting, hand gripping Hunter’s thigh for balance. It was desperate and tender all at once—two men who had seen too much death finally holding onto something alive.

The forward operating base was quiet for once. No mortars, no distant gunfire. Just the hum of generators and the whisper of desert wind against the shipping containers that served as their makeshift home. "I’m a medic

The silence stretched between them like the desert horizon.