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Courthouse Security
Part 26

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 Aug 2012

It was 11:40 when Captain Tom Miller parked his truck a couple of blocks from the courthouse and began walking to the locked entrance. He had just hung up from calling his parents to let them know he'd arrived safely. In answer to the questions where he would be staying, and when he planned to leave to come home, he told them, "the Best Western motel, and probably Sunday afternoon."

Dialing Miguel's cell phone, he heard the answer, "This is officer Coronado."

"Corporal Coronado?"

"Ye-es, ah, who is this?"

"Corporal, it's your Captain, Tom Miller!"

"Tuh-omm?! Um, Captain, sir? Where are you? What're you doing, sir?"

"I'm right outside the door, and I'm visiting the best, damn corporal the U.S. Army ever produced? Haa-aaa!" he laughed. "Can you let me in?"

"Ah, um, I, ah, okay, um, for a minute, but, ooooo, heck, I'm coming right now!" Miguel stammered. Hurrying to the door, he unlocked it and let the slim, tall captain enter.

Tom rushed in, waiting while Miguel re-locked the door. Then, pausing, he stared momentarily at his young friend, and then reached out and grabbed him, pulling him up into himself, hugging him tightly. Miguel, in return, wrapped his arms around his captain, embracing him back. The gaunt, bony feel of Captain Miller, even under his jacket, startled Miguel, as he realized Tom was more slender and lean than he'd ever felt before.

"Hey, buddy, how are you? You look great! Man, I've missed you!" Tom gushed, still holding Miguel. As he felt himself lowered him back onto his feet, Miguel thought to himself, then why did you ignore my calls and text messages, and why didn't you call?

Instead, he replied. "Good, sir. Me too. Why're you here, Tom?"

"To see you, Miguel. It's been too long, and I really need to talk with you. Can we get together tonight – after you get off work?"

Miguel was stumped. The smell and feel of Captain Tom Miller awoke something inside that could not resist this man. Yet, he was expected back home by Billy. "Ah, I'd like that, sir, um, Tom. I"ll need to call and make sure it's okay," he fudged, to let Tom think he was talking about calling his mother and stepfather.

"Okay, great. Can I use a bathroom real quick?" Tom asked. Miguel showed him to one and waited until he came back out. "I'll wait for you in my truck, buddy," Tom offered.

"Where're you parked?"

"In the lot just two blocks away. You'll see my truck."

"Okay, but you better leave for now. I could get in trouble having you here," Miguel explained, remembering the blistering he'd gotten from the sergeant when he'd left the courthouse unlocked to retrieve his pizza. As he watched the slim, tall Captain walk out of sight, Miguel thought, Captain Tom Miller. There's nobody like him.

Once Captain Miller was gone, Miguel pulled out his cell phone and called Billy.

"Hello. Mike? What's the matter?"

He told Billy nothing was wrong, but there was something he needed to take care of with his mother and stepfather, so he would not be coming home tonight. "No, I can take care of it, thanks. I'll probably be back tomorrow night. . . . right, me, too. Good night." He felt guilt-ridden about lying to Billy, but he couldn't hurt him as telling him the truth would surely do.

As the new shift officer came on, and they shared information, Miguel's mind was drifting to thoughts of Tom, and catching up with him. As he left the building, he went to his Acura, then drove over to the lot where he spied Tom's truck.

"Follow me," Tom called out through the lowered window. "I'm back at the Best Western." Miguel did follow Tom's truck, his mind wandering to the times they had spent together in that truck.

At the Best Western, Tom stopped, went in and registered, then came out and said, "Room 121. Follow me." He drove around to the side and back of the building, parking in front of room 121. Miguel pulled in along side. Tom got out, grabbed his bag, and walked to the door, unlocking it and turning on the light.

The room was quite cool, and both youths felt it as they stepped in. Tom closed the door and locked it, then turned on the window heater unit. Miguel stood staring, first at the quite familiar room of the Muskogee Best Western, then at Tom moving around the room.

Suddenly, Miguel was aware of a squishy, melting feeling inside, like wax before heat. He had ignored, suppressed, but never really forgotten, Captain Tom Miller. Tom stopped and stood still, staring back at Miguel, looking him over, up and down, like an estimator putting a price or value on an object. But that was not the cause of the stillness. Neither one of them could find words to speak.

The momentary silence that hung in the air between them was agonizing. Tom felt like a hungry, predatory animal, instantaneously sizing his prey, at any moment, about to pounce. Acting consistent with their usual, aggressor and passive roles, with the instincts and drive of a predator, Tom made the first move on his handsome prey.

Pulling Miguel to him, he sunk his face and mouth into the younger corporal's. Their lips and mouths joined together, they kiss passionately with intense zeal, fanning the fires of passion. In the same moments, Tom picked Miguel up off the floor, hurriedly carried him to the bed, and dumped him backward onto it, leaping on top, sitting, his knees bent on either side of the flattened, young officer.

Immediately he was unbuckling, unzipping, and pulling down Miguel's pants and boxers down under his butt, down his thighs, past his knees to bunch at his feet. His hands were unbuttoning Miguel's shirt, then reaching up under his t-shirt, fondling and caressing his younger friend's abdomen, chest, and nipples.

They were writhing together in excited passion when Tom stopped, turned and untied and pulled of Miguel's shoes, followed by his socks, then his pants and boxers. The young corporal was nude from the waist down. Tom almost ripped the shirt and t-shirt off the corporal, burying his face in his neck, his chest, his abdomen, then his pelvis. Miguel was moaning more and more.

With even more excited haste, Tom kicked off his shoes, unzipped and pulled down and off his jeans and boxer briefs, and his jacket, shirt, and t-shirt. Both youths were naked with each other. Tom's hands lifted Miguel's legs up onto Tom's shoulders, then began circling the target between his buttocks. Miguel was squirming until Tom's mouth enveloped the young corporal's erect, engorged mast. Then he gasp aloud.

For both young men, who had been apart from each other for so long; but especially for Tom, who as been abstemious from sexual intimacy and activity for a long time, the electricity of sexual excitement and tension was highly charged. Miguel's humping and bucking on the bed mattress as Tom suctioned his member, opened his anal opening for intrusion and entrance by Tom's own craving manhood.

Suddenly, the crown of the shaft popped in, and Miguel gasped in air audibly. Slowly, but ineluctably, Tom pushed forward an deeper, steering the large, fleshly, warm, and amply filling column up into the corporal. Although he was by now often used to this love-making with Billy, Miguel was still surprised at the special feel of Captain Miller's rod within him; and it excited him more.

Miguel was twisting and clamping down on Tom's member, and as Tom's own squirming moved the pole around inside his buddy, both began feeling the quivering, light-headed, ecstasy that triggered internal orgasms for Miguel, but drove them both to external ejaculations as well – Miguel filling Tom's mouth, Tom filling Miguel. They were gasping, heaving, panting exhausted breaths as they lay together, Tom collapsed on Miguel, as together they descended from the rapturous height of passion to which they had transported each other.

"Ooooh, aaaaa-maaaan, Miguel!" Tom, gasping, whispered, leaning over Miguel and close to his ear. "That was soooo greaaat, little buddy! I needed that – soooo bad!"

Miguel, whose eyes were wide with near delirious recollection of being ravished by Captain Miller, could only coo "Oooo, yeaaah, Tom, me, toooo, Tom, " over and over, as his arms captured the long, gaunt Captain in a tight hug. They relaxed into a looser, entangling embrace, Miguel snuggled into Tom, gushing with almost rhapsodic wonderment, "Wow! Oh, wow! That was fantastic! Too much! Too great! Soooo-ooo- great! Ooooo, man, wow!"

In minutes, both young men had fallen asleep intertwined together. About an hour later, Tom was groggily awakened by feeling Miguel moving away from him. He sat up quickly to see Miguel, sleepy-eyed, staring up at him. Tom smiled. "Hey, buddy, let's talk. That's what I came for -- and, um, for this." He smiled self-consciously.

"What d'you mean?" Miguel asked surprised, looking surprised, but scooting up to sit on the bed, with the sheet wrapped around him. Tom was sitting cross-legged, naked on the bed within easy arm's reach of his young corporal.

Pausing, swallowing a couple of times, Tom's face grew serious as he began. "I mean this, Miguel. I've been a stupid, blind fool. I've been trying to ignore, denying, what you probably have been far more honest and aware of.

After you left – after the blizzard we got stuck in – I worked hard at being a good student, appreciating my life with my parents, running and training for conditioning, and looking for a girl friend. Eventually, I found one." He then related the entire story of meeting Lois Bivens, becoming deeply involved with her, then being dumped by her for her former fiancé whom she ended up marrying.

He explained about his becoming depressed and despondent, deviating from the focused, responsible life that had always characterized him. His quitting running, staying away out late, drinking, sleeping in, missing classes, not preparing. "Finally, my Dad couldn't take watching me like that any longer."

Tom explained about twice getting spanked hard by his Dad, that it was something he never imagined would happen again. It did, however, and it hurt bad, but just like when he was a kid, it worked, did the trick, had the intended results, and brought him back into line. He was back to being a good, diligently studying student, obeying and respecting his folks, and regaining his conditioning by running again.

"That must be why you're so thin, Tom," Miguel interjected.

"Yeah, probably so. But in the meanwhile, I've had a lot of time to think carefully, clearly, look at my life, and those of people around me, people I care about. What I realized, so late, is that I care about you, Miguel.

"No doubt about it: I've been denying it, pretending it wasn't there, pretending it was something else, ignoring it – ignoring you. From the time you disobeyed orders in Iraq to rescue your buddies and I punished you personally, and privately, for it; to the time we took action to save your life; to the many times I disciplined you personally with spankings – and then your discharge before me. Over all those things could never really get you out of my thinking and memory.

"Then our times together since we both left the Army – and especially our frozen, blizzard trip – if I'd been honest, I've been fighting against the obvious. It may have been all along to you – probably was. You're more honest and realistic, Miguel.

"Anyway, I know the truth now, and I'm tired of trying to run away from it. I know what you mean to me, Miguel. I know I love you, and I want you to be with me. I came all this way, personally, because I want to apologize for how stupid and foolish I've been, and tell you how I truly feel, what I now know is true.

"I want to be with you, Miguel. I want you to come with me. I don't think it'd be possible for us to live with my parents – it'd be a problem – but we can get an apartment; we both have the GI bill, and if that's not enough, we can get some part time work if we need to.

"We can make it work together, Miguel, like we made things work together in Iraq, only better, because we'll be honest – I'll be honest. I promise. What I'm getting at – I need to say it right out – is I love you, Miguel Coronado. I want you, want you to be with me – need you. Life won't be complete – it isn't complete – without you, buddy."

As he listened and followed Tom's explanation, Miguel's face reflected the waves of conflicting emotions washing over him. When Tom stopped, after the declaration that he wanted, needed, Miguel to go with him, Miguel responded slowly.

"Tom – Captain – I love you too. I know I have since we met, and you were my CO, in Iraq. There's nobody like you, Tom. But you sent me off, told me we couldn't work, then cut me off and had no contact. In the meanwhile, I met somebody – somebody who wanted me, actually. I've made a commitment him, and it's real, Tom."

"What?! You never told me, Miguel! Is that your plan, your wish, what you really want?"

"Wait a minute, Tom! We haven't talked in many months. You basically sent me off and abandoned me. I couldn't tell you anything, couldn't talk with you about anything! I wanted to hear from you, to see you, so bad; but there was nothing. What did you expect? What'd you think I should do? Wait for you – when there was no hint I was ever going to hear from you again?"

"Nooooo, Miguel. Don't tell me you don't care about me? You can't say that. Don't do this – not again," Tom's musing aloud displayed his devastated desperation.

"Look, Tom. I never said I don't care about you. I never can say that. I already said there's nobody like you. I'm sorry you made bad choices that have hurt you, and left you feeling alone. But you made your decision very clear and emphatic at the time. You can't run away from that fact.

"Look, I'm not your Dad, Tom, but you deserved the whippings he gave you. You made stupid choices, then when they began falling apart, you made more bad choices – really worse ones. He must have felt that you needed it – had it coming.

"In fact, at this moment, looking at the mess we both find ourselves in, all because of your stubborn, bad choices – because of what you've done to me, your friend, and to yourself – I have to say, you oughta be spanked. You deserve it, have it coming, ought to get one." There was an unusual, austere, serious, authoritarian tone in Miguel's voice.

Tom's face was strained, blanched, and his eyes had a frightened, damp sadness in them. He said nothing in response to Miguel for a couple of minutes, just staring at his friend, whom he now knew – and admitted – he loved. He had to prove to Miguel he meant what he said, that he was telling the truth, was willing to take whatever he had coming, needed, for bad behaviour.

"Okay, okaay, Miguel. You're right, I know. I'm sorry. Okaaay, you ca-an, um, do it. I'll take it. You're right. I deserve it, I admit it. I've been terrible, I know. I'm sorry, Miguel, you'll see. I mean it."

Something seemed to come over Miguel, animating him to take assume a take-charge attitude. He reached out in what could only be described as an unimaginable, dominating force, grabbing both, skinny arms of his superior officer, and pulling him forward, then dragging and sliding him across Miguel's legs, who had sideled around to sit on the bedside edge.

Tom became instantaneously nervous, panicky, anxious. There was something inapposite – something felt out of keeping – not quite right, about him hanging over the knees of his younger, junior officer, awaiting a spanking from him. He began huffing short, quick, heavy breaths to deal with his anxiety.

When the first few smacks from Miguel's hand connected with Tom's bony bottom, he jumped and gasped, as if prodded with an electrical charge. He couldn't get his mind and will to come to terms with what was happening. Yet, he remained in place, resigned to the reality that he needed to accept – he deserved – this from Miguel, and he needed to prove his sorrow and regret for what he'd done to his friend. But, oh, wow! It was beginning to sting, to hurt, for real. 

As the realization set in that this was starting to hurt, for real, conflicting emotions gripped him. Squirming and writhing around, bucking and kicking, he thought: this is weird, strange, not right. I'm the older one, the superior authority, I-aaaaa-uh-shu-ud beee-aaaa-spuh-aaanking him-huh-ooooooo-aaaaaa-aaaaaa-uh-ow!"

Miguel's hand has to be killing him, because it's killing me, he thought. As humiliating and bad as this is, it'll have to end soon, he thought. But he was wrong. Miguel paused momentarily, reached down and grabbed one of Tom's cross-country running shoes, and began applying it to the bare, red, hand-marked bottom of his Captain and friend.

That shocked Tom incredibly.