Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (24 page)

Spring 2003, Fayetteville

Things continued as they had been, the only small difference was that Hooch seemed to take particular care to greet the ‘nibbles’ by name if he saw them at the gym.

In early 2003 activity at the base intensified, and Hooch was back to working the long and intense hours as he had in late 2001, while the preparations for the invasion of Iraq built up.

In some ways it was easier than in 2001, because this was more like a war than an invisible enemy to be fought on unclear territory, but in others the stress of the insane workload was even greater. Hooch had stay on base again, not even managing to get back to the apartment every other weekend, and he once more felt the frustration and pull of wanting to go out there with his boys, be active, go on operational duty. That part hadn’t diminished at all in the last two years.

He was simultaneously exhausted—physically and mentally—and full of tension, when he finally managed to get home one Saturday lunchtime.

Matt was in the kitchen, snatching a quick lunch in between classes. “How are you holding up?” he automatically went to the fridge to get out more food to prepare for Hooch.

“I don’t.” When Hooch entered the kitchen it was clear to Matt how frayed around the edges he really was, and how utterly exhausted. His usually tanned skin had a grey tinge and there were dark shadows under his eyes, which made it all too clear that despite his exhaustion, Hooch hardly slept. Or perhaps because of it. The last sixteen days had wreaked havoc on Hooch, who leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, still in uniform.

Matt’s eyes widened as he looked at Hooch’s worn-out state. “Food,” he said firmly, pushing the plate of cold cuts in front of Hooch, “then bed.” Words curt. “Do you need to plan anything?” he asked, remembering the last time Hooch had been under so much strain.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Hooch let himself be manhandled into a chair at the table, where he stared at the food for a while, as if unable to switch off enough to eat and not just stuff down fuel to keep going. “But I don’t have much time.”

“How long?”

“Back tomorrow at seventeen hundred hours.” Hooch finally picked up some of the bread and cuts, layering a sandwich. “Not enough time to go to the club.”

“Can you call him?” No need to mention who Matt meant.

“Yeah, I have to try.” Hooch stared at the sandwich in his hand, as if he’d forgotten just how to eat. “It won’t be enough.” He looked up at Matt, the expression in his face ranging between demand and pleading. “I need you, too.”

Matt looked at Hooch with surprise. “What do you need me to do?” Need, not want.

“I’ll be given orders on the phone. Usually I do things myself, or it’s in my head, but this time I need you to carry them out.” Hooch finally bit into the sandwich.

Matt swallowed, feeling his fingers clench. Thinking of what happened last time, and how he could never, ever let that happen again. “Yes. When?”

“Tonight, or I won’t be able to wind down enough to sleep.” The ‘again’ unspoken. “If I can’t get him on the phone, will you fuck me hard, really hard?”

Matt held back from making a flippant response, knowing that it was the last thing needed. He settled for a nod, not trusting himself to speak with his suddenly dry mouth.

“Thank you,” Hooch said in a quiet voice around a bite of his sandwich, that tasted like straw.

Matt looked at Hooch, then at the food and said, “I’ll order in tonight.” Even though he knew that Hooch would barely taste it. “Why don’t you have a soak in the bath? My last client finishes at 1700.”

“Okay.” Hooch nodded and kept eating, taking meticulous bites, in a robotic fashion. He suddenly looked up. “Matt?”

“Hmm?” Matt had to turn back to Hooch from where he’d been putting away some clean plates in the cupboard.

“I want you to know I’m not a sissy. I’m not just stressed like a pansy-assed loser. I want to go out there and it drives me insane that I can’t. It’s fucking unbearable.”

Matt wanted to reach across the bench to touch Hooch, but that was the wrong move now. So he settled for words. ‘‘No, you’re the furthest thing from one. ‘‘ He looked at the clock. ‘‘I gotta go. See you in a bit.’’

Hooch watched him leave, his face stony.

* * *

When Matt returned to the apartment after his last client of the day, still sweaty and in gym kit, he found Hooch sitting on the couch, dressed in a pair of gym shorts, staring into nothing. His cell firmly gripped in one hand.

“Hooch?” Matt called quietly, alarmed that Hooch hadn’t seemed to register his entrance.

Hooch looked up, the sudden hyper-focus of his dark gaze on Matt. “He’ll call back. They’re out.”

“Ah,” Matt nodded. “I’ll go shower first then.”

“No!” Hooch’s reply came as sharp and fast as a bullet. “Don’t. I want you…” he was cut off by the cell phone ringing, and without checking who it was, he answered the call without saying a word.

Raising an eyebrow, Matt moved to the kitchen counter, keeping his eyes on Hooch who was concentrating on the call.

“Yeah.” One word, sharp and cutting, then silence on Hooch’s end once more, listening intently. Finally another “yeah,” followed by, “understood.” With that he put the cell down and turned his head towards Matt. “Can you keep me tied up for twelve hours?”

“Twelve…” Matt trailed off, looked at the clock, then at Hooch. Swallowed. “Alright. With what?”

“Anything you can find.” Hooch shrugged, “as long as it’s sturdy and I can’t get out of it. Leather belts?” He stood up, his body so tense, every muscle appeared sculpted. “Gag me, and don’t let me come, no matter what. Fuck me, with your cock, with a dildo, with anything you can find.” Hooch’s voice had become hard as shards of metal, and as cutting. “Just
fuck
me.”

Matt swallowed, hard. “The bedroom, then,” he choked out.

Hooch moved immediately, and without being told, he got onto the bed, face down, spreading his arms and legs.

Matt stood frozen for a moment, before going to the wardrobe and rummaging for something, anything that would do the task asked of him. Eventually, he found a handful of leather belts, and a large cotton scarf from goodness knows where. Opening the bottom drawer of Hooch’s bedside table, he found Hooch’s collar, and the toy collection he’d long known about, but never seen.

Hooch’s hands were clenched into fists, and his long legs trembled with a tension he’d been holding in for too long. He didn’t move, but sensing Matt’s hesitation, he spoke quietly. “Anything, Matt. Anything and everything, no matter how much.” He paused, and the emphasis on the last word was compelling: “Please.”

“Yes.” Matt moved, rummaged in the drawer, then shut it. A sound behind Hooch, then movement as Matt slipped a sleeping mask from an airline amenity kit over Hooch’s eyes, the nearest thing he could find to a blindfold.

Hooch’s breathing audibly relaxed once he was in darkness, for a reason Matt couldn’t understand, and wasn’t going to explore right now. He had been set a task, and he was going to help Hooch, keep him from being unable to function or—worst of all—from breaking his promise and go off again and perhaps get himself killed this time.

He picked up the belts next, turning them in his hands, contemplating what to do, before tying Hooch’s wrists and ankles to the four posts of the bed. He was careful, never having done this before, but Hooch urged him on.

“Tighter.” Hooch’s voice was low, partly muffled by the bed sheets. “Make me hurt.”

Matt gulped, but obeyed, stretching Hooch out as far as he could go. Picking up the cotton scarf, he brought it around Hooch’s mouth, pulling tight and gagging him.

Hooch’s body, spread and tense, was all rock hard muscles and sinews, fists clenched in anticipation and need for something Matt had promised to give without knowing what it would take.

Stepping back, Matt paused to admire the movement of muscles under smooth skin, the play of shadow amidst the fading light. “Should I put the lamp on?” he asked, before he remembered that he’d gagged Hooch. “No,” he answered his own question. “No.”

He moved closer, getting on the bed, and kneeling between Hooch’s spread legs.

Hooch said nothing, did nothing, just waited. Remaining tense and wound up like a far too tight coil, ready to snap any moment.

Already half hard, Matt flipped open the lid of the lube and stroked himself, moving closer to Hooch, hand on the tense back. He could see how Hooch was doing the exact opposite to what he should: he didn’t relax his muscles, clenched his ass instead, to get
more
pain.

He took a deep breath, moved forwards, hands spreading Hooch as far apart as he could, fighting against him, ready to force himself in. He could feel, rather than see, Hooch trembling under his fingertips.

This wasn’t about wanting, not even about sex; this was all about giving Hooch what he needed, and Matt dug deep into his self to find all the anger he’d ever felt at Hooch’s antics and how helpless it had made him over the years. He fucked Hooch, who didn’t need
him
right now, but anyone who would do this to him, no matter who. He fucked him and tried to hurt him, which went against everything Matt ever was. He kept him tied up, re-tightened the leather that held Hooch’s body spread, fed him energy drinks throughout the twelve hours, rammed the dildo into his ass until Hooch screamed and panted, and never let him come, not until it was dawn, and Hooch collapsed into an exhausted, sated, heap.

Matt was trembling too, as he untied Hooch’s limbs and crawled into bed beside him, pulling up the covers before sleep claimed him.

* * *

It was after noon when Hooch woke up. His body aching, the skin around his wrists and ankles almost raw, and his ass stinging, still feeling the shadow of soreness deep in his guts. It was good; it was enough. The last twelve hours had given him a valve to let off the tension, allowing him to return to the core and find equilibrium, without tearing his own self apart.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards the sound of steady breathing. Matt. Matt, who ‘didn’t have it in him’ and yet he had done for Hooch what he’d asked for, and Hooch knew what that meant. He reached out to touch the short, tousled hair, stroking gently.

Matt woke, leaning into the touch. “Mmmmm?”

“Thank you.” Hooch said quietly, far more in those two words than a whole speech could convey.

Matt blinked, calm. “You’re welcome.”

Hooch was silent for a long while, stroking Matt’s hair. When he finally spoke again his voice was still as soft. “You hated it.”

“Not my thing,” Matt said at last. “But yours.”

“Was there anything you liked?”

“You,” Matt smiled. “Mine. All mine to do with as I wish.” Leaning into the caress. “The tying up I didn’t mind,” he added, serious, “but something other than the belts, next time.”

“Next time?” Hooch’s eyebrows rose. “You would do it again?”

“If you wanted me to.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you hate, because if you continued to do that, you’d hate
me
one day.”

Matt was silent for a while. “Maybe,” he reached out a hand, touching Hooch, “but you’re more important than that. We could give it another go, when it’s just fun. And maybe you could do it to me.”

“That would be a first.” Hooch chuckled softly, his face visibly relaxing. “But I’ll do it, for fun I can do anything.”

Matt smiled. “For now, what I need is a couple more hours sleep.”

“I’ll see you when you wake up.” Hooch leaned forward to place a ridiculously chaste kiss onto Matt’s lips.

Matt laughed, and then closed his eyes and burrowed into the pillows.

Late Spring - Early Fall 2004, Fayetteville

Earlier that week, Jeff had returned from a several-weeks posting in Montana. With Hooch being a lot less of an ogre than he had at first appeared to be, Jeff asked him to meet for lunch at the canteen, to check in with what’s been going on at base.

They never got to talking about anything that had happened at Fort Bragg, because Jeff had started to enthusiastically describe the charity he’d seen at work close to the Montana base: Horses for Heroes. Even if Hooch had wanted to stop him, he wouldn’t have succeeded without serious intervention, so impressed Jeff had been by the charity’s work with the first waves of injured veterans returning from the Gulf. Working with the horses, getting the men and women into the saddle, had a remarkable effect on the veterans with issues ranging from amputations, over a diverse range of physical disabilities, to mental issues, such as the ever growing numbers of PTSD sufferers.

Hooch listened to Jeff’s words with interest, and an idea began to form in his mind.

* * *

That evening, when he returned home, he was deep in thought and even less vocal than usual.

“What’s up?” Matt asked, when Hooch didn’t move nor greet him when he came through the door.

Hooch hummed, his only acknowledgment as he kept clicking away on his laptop, set up on the dining table. A long pause, a couple of clicks, and then he swiveled the laptop with a flourish, presenting the screen to Matt. It showed the website for Horses for Heroes.

“What do you think?”

Matt looked at it, and at Hooch. “You want to go to Montana?”

“Jeff told me about the charity.” Completely ignoring Matt’s question. “Would be good to have that here.”

“And?” Matt realized that this was one of Hooch’s weird-ass trains of thought where he expected Matt to be able to read his mind.

“Isn’t that obvious? Horses.” Hooch looked up, dark eyes alive, “horses, Matt.”

“What about horses? Can you, um, start from the beginning?”

“What?” Hooch stared at him, dumbfounded. “You didn’
t know I…
” he trailed off when realization hit him. “Damn. No, you didn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair then kicked back in his chair. “I spent my life on horseback, before I joined up. Pretty much all eighteen years of it, minus the baby stage.”

Matt’s eyebrows went up, but then it made sense. The passing reference to the ranch and the cattle money, back when Hooch had dropped the bombshell that he was loaded. “Ah,” Matt nodded, “you want to start it up?”

Hooch didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I got the investment money for horses, equipment, stable, paddock. I’d need volunteers and at least one member of permanent staff. I know jack shit about the psychological stuff, but I know how to ride a horse.”

“Are you going to talk to base about it?” Matt sat down at the dining table. “Got to be at least a few guys there who’d know something?”

“Good idea, but how the fuck do I go about finding the rest?”

Matt thought for a second. “I’ve got to have a ton or more of shrinks at the gym, and Mandy can scare up any number of volunteers for anything.”

“Just need some proficient horsemen,” Hooch added after a moment, “or horsewomen.” He crossed his arms before his chest and looked at Matt. “This can work. I bet you anything that being on a horse is good for anyone. Was for me, I hardly ever got off.”

Matt scratched the side of his nose, still slightly perplexed at Hooch’s new train of thought. “Shouldn’t be difficult, not here. I’ll have Mandy put the word out.” He paused. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“No, I’m alright. I better get on with it right away.”

True to his word, Hooch threw himself into the idea with the same energy, dedication and excellent planning and executing skills, as he had always done for his military missions.

* * *

Matt hardly ever saw Hooch off the phone or the laptop screen during the next weeks– when he was home at all. The reports he was getting were positive, and Hooch’s tenacity and focus began to pay off quickly. Having the funds helped.

Hooch was out and about one Saturday, checking up on a few potential paddocks and sites for stables, when the landline rang in their apartment.

“Hello?” Matt answered warily. Not a lot of people had the number, and fewer would call on a weekend.

“Hello?” the voice at the other end was female, Texan. “Hubert?

“Uh, no, it’s his…roommate. I’m Matt.” Matt frowned in concentration, and came to the conclusion this had to be someone from Hooch’s family, but no one had ever called the landline. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, hello Matt,” she paused, “sorry, I should have said. I’m Sofia, Hubert’s sister, I was wondering if he was around? He’s asked me to send him some of his old things and I was just making sure I had everything he wanted.”

“Sorry, no, Hooch is out, probably all day.” The ‘Hubert’ sounded so very wrong in Matt’s ears. “Is his cell off? I could note down a message.”

“Oh, thanks. I tried before but yes, his cell’s off. Could you ask whether it’s just his boots and belt and gloves and hat that he wants, or does he want the old ribbons and things as well? I’m so glad he’s getting back into horses again. Ask him to call me if he wants anything else, otherwise I’ll send all this off on Monday.”

Matt’s eyes had widened at the list, and he had to bite his lip not to ask any further questions. A roommate wouldn’t be that curious. “Okay, I’ll do that. I tell him to call you back before Monday.” He added, “nice talking to you.”

“Thanks.” A pause, “nice to put a voice to a name, too. Bye.” The phone call ended with a soft ‘click.’

‘Name’? Matt’s brows shot up as he stared at the phone. He hadn’t expected Hooch to ever mention him to anyone in his family. Still bewildered, he replaced the phone on its charger, then went to fix himself some lunch.

* * *

Hooch returned a few hours later, short hair tousled, boots and black denims splattered with mud, but a satisfied look on his face.

“You look pleased.” Matt observed redundantly.

“Found the perfect location. Stables need renovating, but foundations are intact, and paddock is large enough, complete with training yard.” Hooch shrugged out of his jacket, before bending down to unlace his boots at the door. “Price is higher than I’d initially budgeted for, but have organized a call with my financial adviser in Texas, to see what can be done.”

“Speaking of people in Texas,” Matt began, “your sister called. She wants to know if there’s anything else you want apart from,” he paused and looked at his neat notes, “your boots and belt and gloves and hat, like your old ribbons and things. And she’s glad you’re getting back into horses.”

Hooch looked up, one muddied boot in hand. “She did?” He stood still for a moment, thinking, before placing the boot down and working on the second. “I can’t believe they kept the trophies. Stupid sentimentality.”

Whatever Matt was going to say first, he bit back. He settled for: “trophies.”

“Yeah, what about them?” Hooch hopped on one sock-clad foot, while pulling the boot off the other.

“What did you use to play?” Matt asked, genuinely curious. “You’ve seen all mine.”

“Horses.” Hooch huffed a laugh and walked over to the couch. “I’m Texan, guess what I did with them.” He grinned, unusually cheerful.

Matt blinked. “I’m not sure I want to.”

Hooch’s response was a short, but full-out laughter. “Nothing more exciting than rodeos. I did bareback bronc riding.”

Matt shook his head ruefully. “Figures, and now?”

“Now I’m too old and fucking worn out to fall off bucking horses and get back up without an ambulance.” Hooch was about to sit down on the white leather sofa, but a pointed look from Matt at his muddy denims made him stop in his tracks. 

“Off and into the laundry basket,” Matt inclined his head towards the bathroom where said basket was located, “and call your sister.” He called after Hooch’s retreating back as Hooch stalked off.

“Bully!” Hooch’s voice came from the bathroom, but—as expected—he did exactly as he was told.

* * *

Hooch had quickly showered and changed into a fresh pair of black jeans, his staple civilian wardrobe, and a t-shirt. Sitting in his study, bare feet on the desk, he dialed Sofia’s number on his cell.

“Sofia Bozic Callahan,” the voice crisp and professional.

“You don’t have my cell on caller ID?” Hooch’s way of greeting, the good humor still lingering.

“Hubert!” the voice was surprised. “Perhaps it’s because you don’t call me more than once or twice a year. What on earth are you up to?”

“Maybe I don’t call you more often because you insist on calling me ‘Hubert’.” Hooch re-crossed his ankles up on the desk. “I started a branch of a charity for veterans.”

“Oh,” she seemed momentarily taken aback, “you did?” Ignoring the comment about his name.

“Have you heard of Horses for Heroes? Deals with injured veterans. Figured that was a good idea.”

“No, no I haven’t…” she trailed off. “It sounds interesting and something that would suit you. Would you like me to send anything else apart from your old things? Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I got everything I need here and I don’t want any of my old stuff. Throw it all away. My horse gear will do.” Hooch thought for a moment. “Did they keep my saddle and tack?”

“No.” Hey voice was regretful. “They sold it when they sold your horses.”

Silence on Hooch’s end for an uncomfortable length of time. Finally just one word: “Okay.” If his voice was hard as steel and sharply cutting, it remained unmentioned. “Nothing else I want, then. Tell them to throw the other shit out.”

“I will.” Simple words. “Your roommate sounds nice. Another soldier?”

“He was. Runs the gym now.” Hooch was starting to become cagey. All too quickly the good humored man was gone.

“Oh.” Sofia paused. “Have you known him for long?”

“Why?”

“Just curious is all,” Sofia had a touch of nervousness to her voice, “you’ve never spoken about any of your friends, and I’d never thought that you’d share an apartment off-base with anyone.”

Hooch sat up straight, feet off the desk, and his back rigid. “You said yourself we talk twice a year on the phone. I forget your birthday and I forget everyone’s Christmas. I only visit Texas when I absolutely have to. You wouldn’t call us close, would you?”

“No,” a pause. “I’ll box up your things.” Another pause, “and Hubert?”

Hooch frowned, hating that name, hating it more than he’d ever be able to explain to her without destroying some of her last illusions about her family. “Yeah.”

“Is Matt the Marine who visited you when you were in hospital after your last mission?”

The smallest sound escaped Hooch as he pulled in a shocked breath, followed by a tell-tale hesitation he couldn’t control. “You saw him.” A statement, since a question would have been redundant.

“Well, yes,” Sofia sounded confused, “I did, and he was the only visitor listed for you in the book. I’ve been wondering ever since you mentioned you were moving off-base.”

“Wondering about what?” The sharpness and alertness remained at the front of Hooch’s voice.

“Wondering if he was the same Matt you mentioned you were sharing the apartment with.”

Another pause, too long for Hooch’s usual quick wit. “Yes. He is.” No other explanation, and there wasn’t going to be anything else Sofia would be able to pry out of him.

“Oh,” another pause. “I’ll send your things on Monday.” She knew that she had already got more out of him than expected. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for your new organization.”

“You mean the offer? If yes, any help with the books is appreciated.”

“Any time. I’ll look into charity tax exemptions for you, too.”

“Thanks. I’ll send you the paperwork. And Sofia,” Hooch added, “you’ll find I’m using my inheritance for this. So you know.”

An unladylike snort, but then a smile. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll remember not to be in the same room when father finds out.”

“Fuck him.” Hooch shot out, before his brain had engaged.

A shocked silence. “I’ll not mention it to him, then.”

“Do whatever.” The damage was done. “It’s my money, not his. I don’t care if you tell him or not.” He wasn’t going to retract what had slipped out, couldn’t undo what he’d done. “It’s not your problem, Sofia, don’t worry about it.”

Another long pause. “I have to pick up Martin from soccer,” it sounded genuine, not an excuse. “But before I go—Hubert?”

Hooch groaned. “Yeah?”

“Look after yourself.”

The hesitation this time was different, as Hooch slowly pulled in an audible breath and released it equally slowly. “That’s no problem anymore.”

“Good.” The phone call ended with a soft click.