MetaDeprivation - 17. MetaPrompts 595: FLts (MW8)

“Double shots for all of us, he pays!” Carlos, in his slightly disarranged dress blues, ordered. A certain intoxication contributed to his very loud but not very clear voice. With a wallet in his hand, he clumsily pointed at the newly minted First Lieutenant Gavin Nawat, whose dress blues also wouldn’t pass inspection anymore and who laughed as only a drunk wolf could, having each of his arms around the shoulders of his fellow marine officers.

The bald bartender with Navy tattoos under his wife beater saying ‘Real superheroes wear dog tags,’ shook his head with an approving smile, when he realized the wallet was somebody else’s. He had barely filled the glasses and put them on the counter when five greedy hands reached for them.

“Here’s to an officer who can now find his ass without a map!”

“Only needs GPS,” Zack added, punching Gavin into his abs.

“He doesn’t need GPS, only a big dick,” the third one, Dylan, corrected, widening his arms like a fisherman bragging about his catch.

Gavin just rolled his eyes. He would have to take that abuse until his four friends fell to the ground this night, tired, drunk, or humping something, or all of it. Given not only his three ‘ex’-marine Inner Circle members, Prime, CE, and Isaac, had shown up at his promotion ceremony, but also Colt, his closest friends now could put faces to the few names he had dropped when it came to ‘family.’ Of course, they had quickly concluded the nerd was the guy with the schlong that made Gavin salivate, leak, or open, or all of it. More abuse was the logical consequence.

“Man, he looked small … like a mouse …,” Z said, they only called him Z, because his last name was an unpronounceable Polish name without any vowels, “… but those ones always have the biggest dicks.” It wasn’t a surprise Z was the smallest of their group of five. It wasn’t a surprise either he basically blurted it into the bar to attract the few females hanging around in the hope for some young marine meat. And while Carlos was married, the good Catholic boy he was, Zack pretty much engaged to what everyone knew was a dog tag-chasing cougar, and Gavin committed in a setup that raised more questions than the user manual of an Osprey aircraft, Dylan and he, Z, were very much available right now. And what Dylan had in height on Z, Z had in size where it counted on Dylan.

“And I thought he’s married to that redhead,” Carlos collected the glasses, to point to the bartender for another round.

“So what are you, Gavin, boy, the mistress?” Dylan asked. “Or do they spit roast you?”

“They’re not … they …,” Gavin slurred to explain, but it didn’t matter. Zack and Z had already pushed him around, to illustrate spit-roasting live on him, both panting their tongue like horny dogs. While his head landed more at Zack’s belt buckle than at dick height, Z had arranged Gavin’s perky ass correctly and was pushing his mid-section into the white uniform pants. Feeling Z’s endowment, he thought he was fortunate that Z was too straight and too drunk to spring a boner at this joke, but he knew drunk, straight marines had done gayer things than fucking an ass and not remembering anything the next morning waking up with an overstuffed pillow under their pelvis.

“And what’s with that bear? I’m sure he’s hung like a horse,” Dylan continued. “No wonder you run fast, they must be chasing you dick-crazy bitch every second.”

“No, he …”

“I’m sure that bat shit-crazy NCO sleeping in his boots, also likes some lily lieutenant ass …,” Z continued.

“Isaac?” For a second a grin rushed over Gavin’s face, remembering Isaac and Gavin doing their recruit drill act again, right under Colt’s windows. Of course, that little MARPAT-fetishist couldn’t resist and fucked the come out of both lily asses. And of course, that little Meta knew he was being played, so as punishment they had to wear boots and utes for the next three days; with two small stones in each of the boots as permanent reminder not to fuck with the Meta anymore.

“Look at his face … are you thinking of getting it up the ass right now …?”

“Maybe you should try it?” Gavin returned after he had downed the second double shot.

Dylan’s facial expression of disgust was Hollywood-worthy. “Oh no, I want some nice chocolate pussy, warm and soft …”

“That’s so gay!” Gavin challenged.

After the laughter had calmed down, Carlos ordered the third round …

Just the moment Gavin wanted to pick up the glass, a scent hit his nose.

A wolf.

An alpha wolf.

Powerful.

And he knew it.

He sighed.

The last thing he needed was a wolf shifter marine Colonel reporting back to ShadowLands. Of course, he knew by now nearly every alpha in this fucking country reported back to Prime. And the rest Sam and Jackson found out via their surveillance. Not that he had any secrets from his Inner Circle, but it was a bit overwhelming to know he would never ever have a secret again. A certain wine and water combo would make him spill the beans in seconds and take another bean into any of his orifices. He was so fucked.

His buddies knew something was going on. Instinctively, they turned around. And there he was: Colonel Lunn in full dress blues, with more ribbons and medals than his chest could carry – and he had a big chest in the first place.

“Colonel,” Gavin slurred, now being the highest-ranking officer.

“Lieutenant, could I have a word?”

The other marines were confused. Here? In Lucy’s? Now? At 01hundred00 in the morning? What the hell?

“Sure, Sir.” Gavin put the glass away, shouted: “A fourth round for my friends while I’m gone. Maybe afterward they will put out.” Under protests by his buddies all reasserting their heterosexuality, he found his formal cover and left with the Colonel.

He didn’t know how it happened, but any intoxication was gone the moment he stepped out of the door into the night of San Diego. The fresh air outside, the presence of this wolf, his thoughts about what was going on, and the scary memory of his first meeting with Lunn, all of that had a sobering effect on him.

“I’m not sure you know, Lieutenant, but I will be retiring by the end of this year.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be happy. Seen enough shit. Even found a nice woman putting up with me. We’ll move to Minnesota.”

“Congratulations.”

“Now, I need to ask you something before you return to ShadowLands.”

Gavin nodded.

“I’m the lead alpha in the Marine Corps. I’m taking care of all the wolves in the Corps. It’s a shit detail, but somebody has to do it,” Lunn explained, walking down the street in measured steps.

“I see,” Gavin answered. It explained a lot.

“With my retirement, somebody else needs to take that billet.”

“Makes sense.”

“Somebody with lots of influence,” Lunn continued.

Gavin had no clue where this led, his promotion to First Lieutenant was barely 12 hours ago, he surely wasn’t of ‘lots of influence.’

“You, Nawat,” Lunn stated dryly.

“Me? I’m just a …”

Lunn lifted his hands. “You’re an alpha. You’re a wise alpha because you’ve given up your right to lead a pack for the better good – as I did.”

‘For a dick,’ Gavin thought Carlos would explain.

“And you’re member of the White Wolf Pack’s Inner Circle. There is no more influential pack right now … doesn’t matter how much Max in Germany tries to insist.”

“Wow. So it’s not me, but my …”

Lunn tilted his head. “Stop it. – Think about it. Tell me next week.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Good. – Now go back to your buddies and get drunk until you can’t walk anymore, the situation in Africa looks like shit.”

Gavin nodded. He wanted to salute as good-bye when Lunn added: “And please keep that nerd away from my base. I had three car accidents, two guys slipping in the showers, and a married Major trying to sniff at your Meta today. He’s a threat to any orderly marine base.”

Gavin giggled. “I will tell him, not that it will mean anything.”

Lunn rolled his eyes. He accepted Gavin’s salute and was off into the dark of the night.

Later that night – or early in the morning, when only Dylan and he were still reasonably awake – the Chocolate-colored boy asked: “So Gavin, does this Colt have a phone number?”

Gavin shook his head. They really had to keep Colt away from any concentration of MARPAT.