Active Duty - Hunter And Bailey -gay- -

"They won’t," Bailey said softly. "Not unless we tell them. And I’m not asking for a parade, Hunter. I’m asking you to stop pretending you don’t feel this."

"This can’t happen," Hunter whispered. "Not here. Not on active duty. If command found out—"

Hunter didn't look up. "Not hungry."

Then Hunter moved. Not fast, not reckless—but deliberate. He cupped the back of Bailey’s neck with his scarred hand and pulled him in. The kiss was chaste at first, a question. Then Bailey answered, lips parting, hand gripping Hunter’s thigh for balance. It was desperate and tender all at once—two men who had seen too much death finally holding onto something alive.

Bailey grinned. "Yes, sir."

That made him pause. His real name. Not Sergeant, not Cross. Hunter.

Active Duty: The Distance Between Us

"Liar." Bailey crossed the small space and sat on the cot beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "You’ve been pulling twelve-hour patrols and sleeping four hours a night. You’re not a machine, Hunter."

Bailey set the MRE down and turned to face him fully. In the dim red light of the tent, his eyes looked almost golden. "I’m a medic. Worrying about you is literally my job. But this?" He reached out and placed a hand over Hunter’s clenched fist. "This isn’t the job." Active Duty - Hunter and Bailey -Gay-