Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (30 page)

Gasping, panting, Matt felt himself slowly come back into his body, and withdrawing from Hooch. “That,” he said when he had his breath back, “was amazing.”

Hooch wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Yeah.” His rough voice the only indication of what he had just done. “Just as your mark on my body.”

A smile, as Matt flopped on the bed next to Hooch, eyes on the tattoo, before meeting Hooch’s eyes again. “Mine,” he repeated, wanting to trace the lines but knowing that he shouldn’t. He sighed. “I guess I should cover these up again, at least until tonight.”

Hooch huffed. “Right now I come with a maintenance manual. Bathe and disinfect the nipples, moisturize and disinfect the tattoo. What next?”

He hadn’t expected the gleam in Matt’s eyes, a contrast to the sated expression. “Nothing until next week,” he told Hooch, “that should be the last thing, and it’s not permanent. And there’s less aftercare.” With that, he got up off the bed and padded off to the bathroom for the first aid kit.

Hooch stared after him, thinking how wrong he had been. Matt did have it in him, after all.

* * *

Hooch had to continue moving carefully for the next few days, as his injuries from the training accident continued to heal, but he was much less restless. He submitted mock-grouchily to Matt’s tending of the tattoo, but the feel of those callused fingers on his skin was better as it had always been, as they now traced the swirls and lines that marked him as Matt’s.

* * *

When Hooch went back to work, confined to his desk and administration, he was grateful that his slightly stiff movements were accepted by everyone as remnants of the accident. The medics, however, who had to check him over, shook their heads and told him off at the discovery of the tattoo—they expected it of soldiers in their twenties, not instructors in their forties who should know better.

* * *

The week before the President’s Day long weekend, Hooch had been working late, putting in place plans for an Exercises in spring. He often didn’t make it home until Matt had gone to bed in readiness for his early morning class, and Wednesday night was no exception. Hooch returned to a largely dark gym and apartment, but Matt was sitting up in bed as Hooch entered the bedroom after his shower. When he got into the bed, Matt wrapped his warm body around Hooch’s chilled one, skin to skin, not a hair between them, because Matt had none left below his neck, not even the groomed patch of pubic hair he usually kept.

“If I’m going to be showing myself off this weekend, I might as well make sure I’m presentable,” he said in response to Hooch’s silent query. Hooch’s hands remained where they were on Matt’s newly-denuded skin, as Matt continued. “I’ve made an appointment for you tomorrow evening on your way back from base. I’ve told Pam you lost a bet,” he added, meaning the beauty therapist who usually took charge of Matt’s vanity. “With one of the instructors from Camp Lejeune,” the flash of his teeth visible in the darkness, knowing it would rile Hooch.

“You fucking bastard,” Hooch growled, but he didn’t quite hide the grin. The feel of Matt’s perfectly smooth skin under his hands silenced any objection he might have had. “Is that an order?” Nuzzling Matt’s neck.

Matt smiled and titled his head back to allow Hooch more access. “Yes, it is. After two piercings and a tattoo, it should be a breeze.”

Hooch grumbled, “I’ll do it, but it’s close to telling me to get my root canals done.”

“Who knows, you might turn out to like it. You seem to like it on me,” Matt chuckled.

“I had my legs waxed once, when I did lose an actual bet. There’s good pain and there’s bad pain. Waxing doesn’t fit into the first category. I don’t understand how you keep having it done.” To prove the opposite of his point, he caressed the smooth skin of Matt’s back, down to his ass and back up again.

Matt wriggled under the firm movements. “I like being smooth and you’ve certainly never objected.” He gasped as Hooch’s fingers slid between his ass cheeks, checking that he was, indeed, completely bare. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked, pushing back on the fingers.

“One way of warming up, huh?” Hooch leaned in closer, nipping at the sensitive skin below Matt’s jaw.

“Hmmm, you’re a better source of heat than anything I know,” Matt shifted slightly so that he was lying on his back, legs parted, “but that doesn’t mean you can get away with not warming up the lube first.”

Hooch laughed, leaned over to the bedside drawer, and proceeded to do just that.

* * *

Pam, Matt’s beautician, was as efficient as she was amused at Hooch’s ‘lost bet’, and even more so at the string of profanities that accompanied each and every one of her expertly swift movements; ripping off body hair that had never received to such torture before.

The crescendo of his swearing, when she got to his pubes, made her laugh out loud and she had to stop in her administrations of the hot wax. “I suppose this will teach you to tangle with the Marines,” she teased. “Come on, the faster we get this done, the less it’ll sting.”

Hooch wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You’re lying. It’ll sting just the damned same.”

“Stings more when you draw it outs” she countered. “I’ve been doing this for a lot longer than you. Now hold still.”

Hooch’s eyes followed her movements to the little pot of hot goo and back with an expression of absolute misery on his face.

“This will probably be the bit that hurts most,” she warned him, picking up a cloth strip from the pile on the trolley.

“Yeah, no shit.” Hooch spread his legs so she could get access to every little nook and cranny. “Are you going to say the same about my ass crack?”

“Probably,” she said cheerfully. Ripping away before Hooch could do more than give a strangled yelp in answer, and continuing with quick, sure movements. Making sure every bit of skin was bare, pausing only to get a set of tweezers for a few stubborn hairs.

“Holy motherfucking shit!” Hooch shouted. “Why don’t you flay me while you’re at it?”

“Tut tut,” Pam admonished him, enjoying the process entirely too much. For men who put their bodies through unimaginable pain, it seemed that her military and sports clients were such babies about this simple procedure. “All done at the front now. Besides, this can’t possibly hurt anywhere near as much as those,” she indicated the pierced nipples, “or the tattoo on your back did.”

“No way.” Hooch grumped, but obeyed and turned onto his front, spreading his legs as far as the surface allowed. “This is different, it’s agony of a very special kind. Hell, it even tops a cigarette burn.”

Pam knew better than to tease about the cigarette burns, noting the pattern of small round scars on his skin, and even though she knew that he couldn’t see her, she hid her smile behind her hand as she stirred the goo again. Matt had said that his roommate would be a bit cranky about losing the bet to the Marines instructor, but this passed even her expectations. “My mother says,” she told him, holding him still while spreading the wax, “that you shouldn’t wager anything it won’t hurt you to lose.” Getting a cloth, pressing it down, pulling it away, mentally steeling herself for the expected shouting.

“Fuck!” Hooch yelled and bucked up. “That’s fucking worse than the front!” He craned his neck backwards to look at her. “Did your mother mean literal pain?”

“Probably,” she chuckled, “but this is the last bit. So, the less you complain, the quicker this will be over.”

“Go on, I can see you can hardly wait. You’re enjoying this too much, you should have been a member of the KGB.” Hooch braced himself one last time.

She didn’t answer, because he was completely right. Admiring the perfect curves of his ass she spread the warm mixture, pressed, ripped. “Just a few more seconds,” she told him as he started to relax. “I’ll do a tidy up with the tweezers.”

And people thought she was joking when she said that sometimes she really did love her work.

“Seconds,” Hooch got out between clenched teeth, “you liar.” But he stayed still and tried to think when was the last time anyone had inspected his ass crack with quite so much concentration.

Pam suppressed her laughter as she completed the task quickly and neatly, with just the last few stubborn short hairs pulled out. “Do you want a mirror?” she asked, dropping the tweezers in the container of disinfectant.

“No, I’ll wait.” Hooch didn’t want to tell her for what. “I’ve had enough of it for now.” He moved to sit, legs dangling down and only his toes touching the floor. Completely un-self-conscious, forgetting that officially, he was supposed to probably feel self-conscious around a woman. Looking down at himself, he was about to touch the slightly reddened but perfectly smooth skin of his groin, when she swatted his hand away.

“Nuh-huh. No touching and no sex for twenty-four hours. No hot baths either. You don’t want to get bumps and spots, do you?” Hooch looked vaguely horrified at the prospect and she smiled. “It’s only the first time the waxing is quite so uncomfortable. The hair is coarse and deep-rooted.” She turned to look into her bag and pulled out a dark blue bottle. “Here, it’s special skin care, use this all over your body, it’ll help prevent skin irritation. Don’t use body lotion for a day, but have a gentle body scrub in two days.”

Hooch stared at the bottle, then her. “Do I look like someone who owns body scrub and uses lotion?”

“You look like someone who eats nails on toast for breakfast and burps fire,” she replied cheerfully, “but appearances are deceiving, I’m told.” She paused, then picked up a printed piece of card that had been on the shelf. “Here are the instructions. Don’t forget. But I’m sure Matt will tell you if you do. He’s a complete pro at this. Hardly screams at all, these days.”

Hooch raised his brows. “He doesn’t, does he?” took the card and the bottle, before pulling on a pair of boxers, because he wasn’t supposed to wear tight underwear. “And I get to pay for this ‘pleasure’.”

A grin. “Well, that’s what happens if you mess with the Marines.” Pam picked up the dirty towels and left the room so that Hooch could get dressed.

Hooch shook his fist at her. “Army above all.” He grinned as she left and put on his clothes. His skin felt strange, hyper-sensitive, and he’d never been so naked before in his life. Naked and defenseless, and that he liked. Exposed to the very last bit.

* * *

The daypack in the living room and the faint sound of typing was evidence that Hooch was already back by the time Matt had finished his last class and climbed up to the apartment. He walked to Hooch’s study to find him hunched over his netbook, Rex sprawled on the floor next to him, looking bored.

“So,” Hooch said without looking up from the screen, “you hardly ever scream anymore?”

“Ah, she told you,” Matt groused, but with a grin. “Didn’t want you to think that all this,” a hand down his body, “came without effort.”

“I know that a lot of effort goes into your body.” Hooch looked up with an exaggerated leer. He half-spun round on his desk chair, sprawling and looking up at Matt. “No sex, she said.”

“Why do you think I booked it for today and not tomorrow?” Matt grinned back. “How was it?”

“Awful. A motherfucking nightmare. Tweezers in my ass crack? Your beautician should star in a horror flick.”

Matt couldn’t hold back his laughter. “She does do a thorough job, doesn’t she?” He tilted his head to the side. “Come on then, let’s have a look.”

“But no touching.” Hooch mimicked Pam, holding up his finger. “No sex for twenty-four hours, no touching, you don’t want any bumps, do you? No body lotion, body scrub in two days, and use this to prevent skin irritation.” He pointed at a blue bottle on the desk, then stood up. “What the fuck was she talking about?”

“You’ll need that unless you want ingrowns,” Matt told him. “Just put it on after your shower. The only thing that makes it any better is keeping it up and just getting used to it.”

Hooch looked with increasing focus at Matt. He didn’t say anything for longer than was comfortable. “Take a look,” at last, “then answer me a question.” He pulled the shirt over his head and opened his belt buckle, to make quick work of trousers, boxers and socks.

Hooch, bare and smooth, skin reddened. Not that he’d had much hair to begin with, but the effect was quite…different. Matt was dimly aware he was staring, and dragged his eyes up to Hooch’s face. “What’s the question?”

“Do you want me to keep it up?” Straight to the point.

Matt blinked. “Not if you don’t want to. Seriously, so long as I don’t get hair in my teeth, I don’t mind.”

Hooch shook his head slowly. “No, you didn’t answer my question. I rephrase: do you prefer me like this? Do you want me like this?”

Realizing what Hooch was asking, what he needed, Matt bit his lip. “Yes,” he said truthfully. The perfectly honed lines of Hooch’s body, shown off without the light covering of hair; the groin bared, completely vulnerable, completely exposed. Dimly remembering one of the many websites he’d been scouring in the last few weeks, discussing why most subs and slaves were shaved, to emphasize that they had no control over what happened to their bodies, that they had nowhere to hide.