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Sazahk shifted on his stool as Fal’ran and Tar both flipped over and situated themselves on the ground. When Sazahk buried his nose in his tablet and shifted a few more times with solid bars of red standing on his neck, Fal’ran glanced back and met Patrick’s eyes with a raised brow. Patrick shrugged back and looked at Sazahk and, after a few more moments, Sazahk spoke with a studiously casual voice.
“Even me?”
Patrick bent Fal’ran’s right knee so that his foot came up to his extremely well-defined glute, which Patrick definitely didn’t stare at. “Even you on your belly?”
Sazahk made a frustrated noise. “No, I mean, even I have to climb the trees?”
“Don’t worry, Sazahk.” Fal’ran reached forward and patted Sazahk’s foot. “Bar’in can tell you, Tar’s good at catching people as they plummet to their death.”
“Shut up, Fal’ran,” Bar’in hissed, but Tar stretched his arm out and patted Sazahk’s other foot.
Sazahk looked down at Tar’s big hand and he hunched his shoulders as he muttered, “You can’t catch me if you’re in the tree, too.”
“No one’s going to plummet to their death. Everyone is going to be fine.” Patrick slipped his hand under Fal’ran’s knee and lifted it. “Now, everyone, pay attention, so we do this right. Lift their knee, hold their foot down with your chest to keep the leg bent, and put your other hand on their lower back to keep their hips down. Should feel a stretch along the front of the leg. Fal’ran, do you feel—”
“Yeah, I fucking feel it,” Fal’ran snapped in a whoosh as he ground his forehead down onto his forearms, his tusks scraping across the rough tarp of the floor. “In my quadriceps.”
“That’s right.” Patrick chuckled. “Perfect. Remember your safe words.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know them. I got this.” Fal’ran waved his hand before Patrick lifted his knee higher and he clenched it into a fist instead.
“You’re killing me, Tar, seriously, that’s all you got?” Bar’in snorted from Patrick’s right and Patrick tried to force his gaze over to check their form, but it stuck on Fal’ran’s ass.
It was an incredibly nice ass, curving out from an incredibly nice back. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, smooth, dark olive skin under his white tank, and rippling muscles as far as the eye could see. Patrick watched those muscles expand and contract as Fal’ran fought his breathing, trying to relax as he shook under Patrick’s hands. To Patrick’s shame, one of those hands, the one planted just above Fal’ran’s ass, yearned—like it had a mind of its own—to trail down and squeeze.
Patrick clenched his jaw and swallowed, guilt roiling up his throat. This was his soldier, his responsibility. Fal’ran was practically a kid. He trusted Patrick—or was beginning to, at least—to have his best interests at heart. Patrick could not—could not—lust after him and he especially could not do it while he had his hands on him, stretching him out on Patrick’s orders.
When he saw Fal’ran twist his head to the side and flare his nostrils, Patrick snatched his hands away. He forced a casual tone out of his dry throat. “Other side.”
He focused hard on trees, and dense urban environments, and training plans, and schedules as Fal’ran bent the knee of his other leg and didn’t reach out to touch him until he’d filled his mind enough to tamp down his scent.
Fal’ran let out a low groan that made Patrick’s hands seize as Patrick eased him into the stretch. Patrick closed his eyes. He only had to hold out for a minute. He only had to even out Fal’ran and Tar’s legs. Then he would escape. He’d fuck off and take himself on a long run around the lake and then into a cold shower. A very cold shower.
Patrick’s lower belly clenched when Fal’ran dug his fingers into the ground in obvious pain, then forced them flat again as he exhaled and let Patrick push the stretch deeper. God, that discipline was something special.
Patrick cast around for something to say to distract himself before his yearning scent flooded the tent. “It’s important to stretch both halves of a muscle pair.” Yeah, that was as good as anything. “We stretched the hamstrings first and now we’re stretching the quads and hip flexors. Just a few more seconds.”
At least, Patrick was sure it was just a few more seconds. He wasn’t sure if time was speeding up or slowing down. Fal’ran released a shaky exhale that made Patrick’s cock twitch in his pants, and he decided he didn’t care anymore.
“Alright, that should be good.” Patrick snatched his hands off Fal’ran’s body and leaned back on his haunches. “I want you all to add stretching to your nightly routines, and the more you can help each other, the better.” He rubbed his palms over his thighs, trying to scrub off the tingly feeling that still lingered from where he’d been touching Fal’ran. “A little tightness or a little cramp out there will kill you.”
He tried to stand, but Fal’ran twisted around and grabbed his forearm. “You too, right?”
Patrick almost started out of his skin at the sudden touch, and he swallowed as he forced himself to unclench. “Me too, what?”
“Some tightness or a cramp will kill you, too.” Fal’ran’s voice had an unmistakable smile that Patrick refused to notice.
He stared down at Fal’ran’s hand wrapped around his forearm instead, at the veins and tendons and the texture of the skin and anything to keep his mind busy enough to hold down his scent. But it turned out that studying Fal’ran’s hand on his body was anything but helpful in that regard.
Fal’ran tugged Patrick forward and Patrick caught himself with both hands before face planting onto the floor. “Your turn to be stretched.”
“No.” Patrick found his voice as he turned over to sit on the floor. “I don’t have time.” He gave Fal’ran a captain’s stern stare. “I can get another officer to do it later.”
He could, but he wouldn’t. He’d barely talked to any of the other officers since arriving at Training Camp Pel’on in a haze of shame—not ready to face their questions, their judgment, or worse, their pity.
“It’s Bar’in’s turn, too.” Fal’ran jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Bar’in as he stood up, and up, towering over Patrick. “He needs to be stretched, and Tar and I are still learning. We’re not done here, captain.”
“We’re done whenever I say we are,” Patrick snapped. Fal’ran’s argument about the good of the team had almost swayed him. Right until that last part, when Fal’ran had tried to assert his dominance again. Goddamnit, Patrick knew keeping power was a constant battle, but did Fal’ran have to make it such a tough one?
