MetaDeprivation - 1. MetaPrompts 557: Wine (MW8 9-10)

“And then I hid it somewhere he won’t find it,” Prime confessed.

“And that’s why you’re walking funny?” Brian asked. ‘It’ was Colt’s leather band; a dangerous tool in the hands of an all-controlling dom.

“Yep. He squeezed my balls. Hard. Really hard. And forbade me to shift.”

“Ouch,” Sam hissed. Shared pain wasn’t half the pain.

“You as well?”

“I think I will never shift into my wolf again, my balls are mush,” big Sam whined. He would never hide anything from his furious Meta. Never ever. He had to promise it to the little dictator, or he would never have balls again.

“Is this why he rides with them?” Brian asked pointing at the rear mirror. They were followed by their new Audi with Colt, Gavin and Bradley inside, driven by Warren. Warren and Bradley hadn’t screwed up recently; and Gavin was the ‘wolf of honor’ for today. The last car with CE and Isaac covered their six.

“He’s royally pissed.” Sam’s pointed backward, to the car behind it. ‘He’ didn’t need any clarification.

“I saw that,” Brian commented. “You should have told him.” Brian’s cold blue eyes caught those green ones.

“And make our Meta an accomplice?” Prime huffed.

Brian just rolled his eyes and focused on the street. He snickered noticing how both Prime and Sam tried to man-spread as much as possible to reduce pressure to their precious family jewels.

And it was still another three hours to San Diego where they wanted to say goodbye to Captain Nawat who’d be off to his next tour to Africa tomorrow.

Colt’s anger seemed to have dissipated when they had arrived; or he wanted to make Gavin’s last night special and nice, so he was his ‘charming’ Meta-self. After a trip to the best local steakhouse, they sat on the terrace of their quite luxurious hotel looking out onto the ocean. He didn’t even mind spotting Coronado on their left; the months of imprisonment there a distant memory – or just the halo of a bad dream.

“Here’s to our Captain – and to his safe return!” Prime wished, lifting his beer glass.

“Here’s to our jarhead,” somebody added, while others shouted “Gavin.”

The brat blushed when several other guests looked at them, first in a hint of annoyance, then in confusion and finally in appreciation. They added their best wishes.

Gavin blushed even more.

And when they had downed their drinks – Cokes in the case of Colt and milkshakes in the case of CE, somebody approached quite crisply.

And like it had happened again and again, CE and Sam jumped up as if stung by a tarantula and blocked the man’s access to Colt.

“Colt?” the man asked, nonetheless taken aback.

And Colt shook. He wanted to smile but moaned at the same time.

Chris Fink.

“It’s okay, boys. – Boys, may I introduce Captain Chris Fink to you?”

Growls filled the warm night air. Hostility cloaked the whole table. Jealousy oozed out of Prime, moving into fighting mode. They all remembered who that was – the army ass.

Colt had to react. He sent out his wine scents as strongly as he could muster them. He sensed how most wolves calmed down somewhat – except for Prime.

“Actually, it’s ‘Major’ now,” Chris corrected.

“Sorry, civvies,” Colt apologized. “Major Fink, Chris, can I introduce Prime to you?”

Prime grudgingly got up to shake the Major’s hand. “Sir,” he hissed through his battle-ready teeth.

Colt knew this would become a top-dog-test-hand-shake, so he put his small hand on Prime’s shoulder to make him sit down again. “And this is Captain Nawat, USMC.”

“Captain,” Chris smiled.

“Major, a pleasure to meet you,” Gavin answered all-gentleman-like.

“Off tomorrow as well?”

“You too?” Gavin asked.

“Yep. We might meet.”

And now Colt growled. “And here we have Brian, Burt, Sam, Isaac, Warren, Bradley.”

“Gentlemen,” Chris nodded to them before he looked again at Colt. “All your friends?”

Colt smiled forcedly. “Yes.”

“Nice,” Chris answered, slightly lost for words.

Colt swallowed.

The Major looked great. Tall, tanned, military haircut, perfectly white teeth, and his trademark lilac eyes. Even in his black jeans and white dress shirt, he looked soldier-y. Perfect for Colt – in a different life. Well, maybe not given his bi-tendencies. But maybe not in this world. Who knew?

And Prime sensed that as well.

“Will you guys excuse me for a moment? I’ll have a quick drink with Chris at the bar.” Colt got up.

Prime opened his mouth.

Colt expecting this, pushed the big redhead down into his chair and said: “I’ll find my way, I’ll be just over there,” Colt explained with his wine-scented, soothing voice; his warmly smiling eyes adding: ‘Where you can see me, my possessive wolf.’

“Sure,” Prime said; trying to win an inner struggle.

“He doesn’t like you out of his sight, he has learned,” Chris stated, his head pointing to Prime while they waited for their drinks at the bar.

Colt nodded, sending an ‘It’s all okay’-look to his boys.

“He loves you like crazy,” Chris continued, his voice heavy.

“He does.”

“And what’s with the others? Some more marines?” Chris asked; suddenly a naughty-boy-look had conquered his face.

“Friends of his.”

Chris downed half his wine when he challenged: “Colt, don’t lie to me. They all reacted the same way; less visible, but very protective …”

Colt swallowed. He stirred the ice in his Coke glass. “They like me.”

“You fuck them.”

“What?” Colt asked, realizing what a bad liar he was.

“Shit, all of them? All eight?” Chris asked, quickly putting a hand over his mouth as if that could make his words unsaid.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Two of them were already, no, three, were in our college,” Chris continued. An odd bliss of realization plastering his face. “Already back then …?” He didn’t need to finish the question.

“I’m not saying anything,” Colt responded, sucking innocently on his straw.

“Fuck,” Chris added. More wine.

“How are you doing?” Colt tried to change the topic.

“Okay. I mean Army-wise.”

“And man-wise?”

“Asshole dropped me when he learned I’m leaving Fort Worth,” Chris complained.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.” He finished his wine and ordered the barkeeper to refill his glass. “Eight?”

“Chris, …” Colt started.

“Are they all sword swallowers?”

“Chris!”

Chris didn’t listen and gulped down his second glass of wine.

“I need to give it to you … you know how to pick them. If I didn’t prefer bottom rack as well, I would have them all.”

Colt giggled and watched Chris downing his third glass without regard to any appreciation of the wine. Maybe wine was lost on any military boy. Cheap beer and shots it was. “Well, I wish you all the best wherever you’re going. And message me when you need something,” Colt offered. They might have a history, but a soldier on tour could always need help and support from home.

“’ll do,” Chris nodded, nursing his fourth glass.

Colt noticed how Chris’ language changed slightly; four quick glasses of wine at the end of a day that surely had been full of drinking were showing effect.

“Good luck!” Colt said, putting his hand on the Major’s strong shoulder. When he turned, the soldier grabbed him, stopping him from leaving.

Chris asked: “What do I need to do to join your harem?”

Colt’s eyes widened. Not because of the unusual choice of word, but about the sincerity of Chris’ question. “I don’t think …”

At that moment Prime stood next to him; removing the soldier’s dirty fingers nearly gently from his Meta. “Everything okay?” he asked with a voice that could have frozen the balls of half the US Army.

“All the best, Major Fink,” Colt wished, his eyes getting moist. He nodded and left, with Prime shielding his back.

When Colt sat back with his pack, he watched Chris making a quick exit.

“You okay?” Brian asked suddenly softly.

Colt nodded reaching for Gavin’s big, callused hand. “Take care of yourself, jarhead, over there.”

“I will, Sir!” Those blue eyes meant it.

Colt smiled back, whispered: “I need you,” and suppressed the premonition he had gotten when Fink had touched him.

Next time he would ‘see’ Fink would be in Arlington.