#jarhead

But you knew it changed men. You knew it would change Anthony.

You were right.

When you opened the door to your apartment to see Anthony standing before you, he wore the same shell. The same exoskeleton as when you held his face, breathing in his aftershave and promising him you’d wait for him. The bone structure of his mask was the same as it had always been.

But you could see it in the way he grinned, that nervous energy, like a dog stuck in a kennel. You could see it in the stiff square of his shoulders that he was different. Damaged. Broken.

Nevertheless, there he stood. Breathing, for you. Alive, for you. That was enough.

The first week was something. You could see Anthony struggle, trying to fit into the same old nesting doll when he no longer fit.

You would catch him staring out the window, eyes distant and far, far away. He never talked about it, and you didn’t pry.

You hoped that your gentle affection would be enough for Anthony to call back the guards and lower the drawbridge to his heart. Maybe he’d let you cross over the moat of horrors he’d witnessed and let you inside.

—--

The morning was still sticky with sleep as you leaned against the mahogany counters, watching the coffeemaker do its magic.

You heard the soft slap of Anthony’s feet on the tile before his big arms wrapped around your waist, his face nuzzling into the back of your shoulder.

“Hey, big guy,” you whispered, setting your hands on top of his, cradling your midsection. Your thumbs brushed against his calloused knuckles. It felt like leaning against a radiator; he was so warm.

Anthony leaned around, supple lips pecking your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“Mmm—”

“—I brushed ‘em,” Anthony murmured sleepily. He knew you were weird about morning breath. It was the little things; how he’d floss twice, rinse with antibacterial mouthwash so that he could kiss you as early as he wanted. That’s what you loved so much about him.

You hummed out a thank-you, melting into his mouth.

Another thing you noticed was that Anthony kissed differently now, too. Like he was planting flowers under your tongue, hyacinth seeds behind your teeth, just in case you needed something to remember him by come spring. Like it was all about to be ripped away at the stem, leaving nothing but bloody roots.

Your hand came up to cradle his face, your eyes searching his. For what? You didn’t know. They were cracked open, only slightly.

“You hungry?” you mumbled into his lips, turning your body around so that your chests pressed together.

“I’ll fix somethin’ later.”

“Let me. Please?”

Anthony’s shoulders loosened—only slightly, but still—and you felt him smile that lazy grin into your mouth.

“...Yeah, alright.”

—--

You quickly came to the realization that Anthony liked being taken care of. He’d never admit it himself, but you knew.

So you started to experiment.

Every morning, you’d have Anthony’s coffee ready by the time he stepped out of the shower, skin still dewy with condensation. Just the way he liked it: two sugars, no creamer, unless it was the Twix edition.

Anthony would slip into the kitchen—towel tied low on his hips, yawn waiting to break free—and see you standing with two coffee mugs in your hands. The steam would form a halo around your face, and he’d realize heaven smelt like espresso and clean laundry.

You’d grin up at him, handing him the USMC mug he brought with him when you moved in together. He’d notice the crack in the handle had been sealed up, and Anthony would just melt.

“Love you,” he’d murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. The fact that you’d do something he could just-as-easily do himself, just for the fact of doing it for him…

It made the part of him, the part of himself that was still buried under a thousand pounds of burning sand and bones, ache with something that made him want to cry.

—--

Two weeks later, Anthony finally began to thaw.

He laid on his side, legs tangled up in silken sheets as he hummed a song you hadn’t heard before. The lamp on the cluttered bedside draped his jaw in gold ichor.

Your nails raked up and down his back, the weight of his world exhaling beneath your touch. He looked so raw, curled up beside you, glowing holy in the dim light.

Hum, hum, hum… Anthony could murmur hymns that made the angels dance all the way up in heaven.

The first time you’d ever caught him humming, he was so red he nearly caught fire. But now, you could feel him almost singing into your fingers.

Just as sleep was finally starting to weigh your eyelids back down to soil, your fingernails caught on something.

Fluttering back to life, you felt Anthony tense up, the hard muscles in his back jumping in alarm. The pads of your fingers brushed over a thick line of scar tissue.

“…Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it still hurt?”

You felt Anthony sigh, felt him wilt with memories he never spoke about.

“Not… All the time.” His voice was sticky, clinging to the back of his throat, tongue trying to keep the words inside.

Your nails traced constellations down his back, circling his shoulder blades down to the dimples above his tailbone. I’m here, you tried to say. You can talk to me.

Anthony sucked in a shaky breath. You couldn’t see his face, but the tension coiling tight in his shoulders said enough.

“It was just a piece of shrapnel. Got sent out to get some batteries,” he tried to say coolly, like it was the most simple thing in the world. He didn’t mention the fact that they were dead, the fact he could still cough up the gunpowder exploding in his face as he palmed the sweaty heart of death for nothing.

“You,” the words came slowly from your lips. “You know you’re here, right?”

“Of course I know that. I’m not…” Crazy.

“But do you believe it?”

Anthony didn't speak for a long time, the thin sheet of ice keeping him suspended melting too fast for him to keep up. He tried to will the tears from his eyes, the shaking away from his fists.

Your hands found his shoulders, turning him over to lay flat. You crawled on top of him, your palms cool against his cheeks.

“Tony, breathe.” His chest was trembling, holding in giant bubbles of air to keep perfectly still, to try and make everything stop. “With me. In on four, out on eight. Can you do that for me?”

His eyes, the color of icicles melting in the sun, stared blankly up at you.

He was stuck in the desert. Stuck in those endless days and nights like splinters lodged too-deep in his skin.

“I—I’m still there.” He could feel the rifle tucked under his chin. Fire, fire, fire.

“Anthony. Look at me,” you said, harsher now. “Anthony!”

He gasped, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His eyes unfogged, looking up at you with a mix of fear and need.

“Hey, hey, there you are. You’re safe. You’re okay.” You breathed slowly, exaggeratedly, hoping Anthony’d catch on.

When he finally did, you pressed soft kisses against the line of his jaw, hands on either side of his head.

“Where are you, Tony?”

Anthony drew in a slow breath, his big hands slowly finding your waist. His thumbs brushed under the hem of your shirt, making sure you were real.

“I’m… I’m with you.”

“You’re with me,” you sighed, kissing the mole above his top lip, his sorrow trusting you enough to let you in. To let himself be fragile with you.

You traced the lines of his abs where ribs met skin. You didn’t try to fill the silence, as long as Anthony was there. As long as he was breathing, slow and deep against you.

“Sorry,” Anthony murmured, one of his hands coming up to hold the back of your nape. His thumb brushed against the soft space between your jaw and your neck.

The heady mix of fear, shame, and need all shining through his eyes said more than his tongue would ever be able to.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for,” you hummed, lips brushing the dip of his collarbone, sucking into the skin and moving your way up, lathing against the smell of his body wash.

Anthony memorized the feeling of your lips on his skin like scripture, like if reciting it in times of need would save him. Maybe it already had.

“I… I need you,” he rasped, the words bubbling out too fast to stop. It wasn’t necessary sexual, either. Just an ache for you. I need you to take care of me because I’ve forgotten how to.

“You have me,” you breathed into the shell of Anthony’s ear, “all of me.”

You heard him sigh, his large palms roaming your body, pulling you down against him, your hips rocking together. “Hah… can I?”

You nodded, grasping Anthony’s chin and tilting his gaze up into yours. Your lips brushed as you spoke, breathing in each other’s air. “Just tell me what you need.”

“You,” he whispered. “God, just you.”

You felt your heart kick against your chest, herds of wild horses racing in your bloodstream through fields of exploding stars.

Those words were all you needed to get to work, mapping your fingers over Anthony’s body, not as though he was a soldier crafted from toughened leather and hollow veins where fear was carved out a long time ago.

You drifted your fingers over his skin as though he was an atlas, mapping over the whole world and all of its wonders, all of its pain.

“Where do you want me?”

Anthony’s hips rocked up into you, his eyes fluttering shut, lightning cracking just behind them.

“Everywhere, fuck.”

Your palms ran down his stomach, splaying at the waistband of his navy flannel boxers. His erection tented the fabric, pressed against his v-line. You pressed kisses to the tip, your fingers moving to hold onto the muscles jumping in his thighs.

“Lift up for me,” you said softly, no question to your voice.

Anthony raised his hips, face flushing at the way he knew he’d do anything you told him to, he was so in love.

His boxers slowly slid down, letting his length break free, bobbing heavy against his stomach. You pressed reverent kisses to each patch of revealed skin, licking into the freckles dotting his inner thighs.

“Fuck, stop… stop teasing,” Anthony said desperately.

“Say please,” you hummed, wrapping a hand around the base of his dick, pumping slowly.

“Mmm—get it wet, please. Shit…”

Leaning down, you smiled up at Anthony, making a show of the way you slowly dipped your tongue into his slit, making him hiss.

You spit onto the tip, licking down the vein that made his thighs stutter. The hand pumping his base sped up slightly, twisting around the head, sending seeds of blooming stardust straight to the coiled spring in Anthony’s stomach.

“Mmmfuck… Holy shit,” he gasped, his hands hovering restlessly above your head, hesitant to grab onto you despite how much he wanted to.”Can I to—”

You pulled back from Anthony’s tip, eyebrows furrowing up at him. “Nuh-uh. No touching, hands back.”

You heard him swallow audibly, dry click echoing through the dim bedroom. Slowly, he set his hands down by his sides, licking his lip as he stared down at you. Anticipation burned bright in his chest, aching with how he needed you. “…Okay, okay. Done.”

You hmmed happily, starting to take Anthony’s length into your mouth as a reward.

He watched it disappear behind your lips, groaning breathily as electricity shot straight through him. “God, you’re so fucking… Oh—yeah, shit.”

The longer Anthony was in your mouth, the messier you both became. His head would tip back into the bed, his mouth open as his eyes fluttered shut, breathy groans slipping from his throat. His hands grabbed anxiously at the sheets, trying desperately to stop the buck of his hips into your throat.

You bobbed your head up and down on Anthony’s dick, swallowing around him as saliva dripped down to the base. It was so wet, and the sight of your lips stretching around his girth only made his head spin faster.

You can tell when Anthony’s starting to get close by the way his voice gets all pitchy, something akin to whimpers punching out from his chest. He pulled even harder at the bedsheets, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper.

“Ohhh, holy fucking—mmm… Nnngh, gorgeous—fuck—all the way down…!”

You took all of him down your throat, the tip of your nose pressing against his navel. You started to pull back up, your tongue polishing just below the tip where Anthony was the most sensitive.

You had to press your hands down against his hipbones as they tried to rut up into your mouth, needy sounds pouring out of his mouth. “Jesus, shit, fuck—I can’t, baby, I-I’m gonna…”

Just as Anthony’s eyes started to flutter back into his skull, you pulled off of his dick with a wet pop!

He immediately raised his head, looking down at you with dumb eyes, glazed over with desperate confusion.

“Wha… Mmmn, why’d you stop?” Anthony whined, and the sight of a Marine completely at your feet, pleading up at you, made your heart nearly stop beating.

“Whatt? You can hold it, can’t you, big guy?”

Your hands slowly twisted at the head of his dick, thumbs grinding against his frenulum.

“Fuuckk, please? I—I need it. Need you.”

He wasn’t lying. His thighs were tensed together, every muscle in his body taut with need as he stared down at you with those eyes.

“Five more minutes. Can you do that for me?” you cooed, giving his length a particularly hard squeeze, the palm of your hand grinding against his weeping slit.

“Mmm…fine.”

“Count, then.”

He was fucked.

. . .

The first two minutes weren’t so bad, your hands slowly working him back up to that peak. You spread his pre-cum all down his shaft, one hand pumping his base while the other twisted around the head. Slowly, though. Deliberate.

“Fuck, mmn… Three minutes left,” Anthony choked out, feeling himself start to get close again.

“Doin’ so good, baby. Thank you for giving yourself to me,” you murmured, pressing a wet kiss to his thickest vein.

He nodded, looking down at you with so much love it could only be described as starstruck.

“Anything. Anything for you,” he breathed, letting his head fall slack against the pillows as you pressed worshiping kisses down to his base before licking back up.

“Time?”

“Two minutes, thirty seconds.”

By the look on your face, Anthony almost regretted telling you that.

You took him back down into your throat, both hands twisting around his base now. It was so slippery, so debauched, Anthony couldn't help but roll his hips up into your mouth.

“Oh, fffuuck—holy shit…!” he had to fight to keep that clock ticking in his head, to keep the spring in his stomach from exploding.

He was so close, the fireworks detonating behind his eyes almost overwhelming him completely. His legs jerked, the muscles in his stomach tensing and rippling from the overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

“Please, baby, damn it—two minutes—please, I can’t…”

Anthony was starting to cry, tears welling up in his eyes as his hands reached out for you, breaking the rules. He was too fucked-out to care, too needy for you.

You breathed heavy through your nose, looking up at him as you swallowed him all the way down. He could see himself bulging through your neck, and it was all he could do not to cum on the spot.

“You—You’re so so pretty, so handsome, perfect, everything—mnnn…!”

You felt Anthony throb hard against your tongue, leaking like a faucet into your mouth. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it, but at that point you no longer cared.

“Ah—ah, fuckkk.. one minute, holy fuck, goddamnit—” he was practically sobbing now, balanced right on the edge of something earth-shattering. “Please, please, anything—need you, need you so bad..”

He was fucking gorgeous, coming apart beneath you. his face, all flushed and tear-streaked as he whimpered and begged, was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. He almost looked pretty, the way his teary eyelashes clumped together to look at you so sweetly.

Pulling off of his dick, you stuck your tongue out, pumping him earnestly.

“Come on, Tony. Let go for me.”

Before the sentence could fully leave your lips, Anthony was arched off the bed, back bowed as a whimper ripped straight out of his lungs. He came all over your face, his chest heaving wildly as he slumped back into the blankets.

“Holy fuck… Oh my God…”

You crawled up to his eye level, pressing salty kisses against his tears, your hands holding his face with a tenderness that made him sigh.

“There’s my good boy,” you hummed, smiling down at him. “Thank you, sweet thing.”

He sniffled, sitting up and bringing you with him. He pressed reverent kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, murmuring thank-yous. “Let me clean you up,” he whispered, baby-blue eyes staring into you.

“Mmm, only if you let me clean you up,” you grinned, smiling into Anthony’s lips.

“Pfftt.. deal. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you most,” you countered, slowly slipping away from him and into the bathroom.

“Hey, come back here!” Anthony grinned, barking out a laugh as he chased you all the way into the shower.

You knew war had changed Anthony, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

he swirled the rice and chicken around in the paper bowl, his cup of water still full as he hadn't picked it up unless he received it. 'just a friend' she said. what bullshit.

deep down he knew this would happen. it happened to everyone else, so it was blind to happen to him. "..fuck." he muttered under his breath. he needed to get it together, he couldn't break down over her— not now, not like this. and definitely not here.

what was he gonna do? how could he focus this way? there was just no possible way for it to happen if this shit was nagging in the back of his brain.

he ended up throwing the food away, no longer even wanting to stare at it with this damn girl on his mind.

now he couldn't sleep, staring up at the barracks' ceiling just..thinking. what would he do when he got back and saw that guy just staring back at him. opening that door, seeing some random looking at him like he'd never seen him before.

no, no, fuck that, he'd know him. his friends were probably right saying kris had that military fetish. getting off telling that man that he was a jarhead—

"psst," his thoughts were interrupted by a whisper. was it directed towards him? he sat up, jumping a bit to see you right next to his bed. you were a friend of his he made here, a bit closer to him than anyone else. everyone described you as a sweetheart, you were real kind and caring but you got done what needed to be done whether you disliked it or not.

"i snuck these from the cafeteria," you held up two chocolate chip cookies, and it made him surprised that they even had any sort of flavor here. "you want one?" you gave that smile to him, making his heart melt. you thought of him when taking these? practically risking yourself to get something sweet.

"sure," he sat up, moving over a bit to make room for you to sit with him. he opened the wrapper, giving a hum of satisfaction at the sweet taste touching his tongue. god, this felt great.

"thinking about that white chick of yours?" he almost choked, not thinking that you could tell— but hell it was obvious. ever since the phone calls he had been spacing out, and getting angry easier.

he exhaled through his nose, but he didn't deny it. "there's this guy, charlie or charles or some shit. something with a c, i dunno." he looked down at his bruised knees, his feet planted right on the cold hard ground beneath the two of you.

"she met him at some hotel and..they seem to talk a lot apparently. but i just..i know they're boning and-" he looked over at you, seeing how your cheeks were stuffed with the cookies as you ate. he almost burst out laughing but held it in so no one else woke up. "what?" you swallowed down the rest of the food, confused as to why he was laughing.

"jesus man, im talking about my soon to be ex girlfriend be serious for a sec." you gave him a look, "i am!" your voice was still a whisper as you exclaimed, yet you couldn't help but laugh with him.

you had stopped for a moment but he still had a few chuckles. something just tempted you and you weren't too sure what it was. you always felt a bit of something towards him, but it was mostly just admiration right? yeah, he was a good soldier and you looked up to him to better yourself despite being here longer than him.

your eyes slightly hooded, your head getting a bit closer and he took notice at that. his body backed up a bit, but the two of you were still close. it hit that this must have made him uncomfortable, hint being he was giving you a weird look. he made it clear at the meet when the drill sergeant was yelling at him he most definitely wasn't gay. so what the hell were you thinking?

too ashamed to stand up and walk away, you backed off and looked down at the floor. you weren't gonna cry or anything no, you just felt shameful.

your skin felt cold, and full of goose bumps feeling his finger underneath your chin and tracing at your jaw line. it made you look over at him, the uncomfortable look replaced with longing and need. both of your heads went together again, lips connecting like magnets and moving against each other like smooth waves.

his arm rested on your hips, and your on his chest to keep yourself steady because fuck he was a real rough kisser. there wasn't much teeth, and the kiss still went amazingly but he would push against you like he absolutely needed this.

and he did, he needed it so badly because who else did he have? no one, he had no one else except for you.

"oh..tony, chill out a bit.." he was being as 'chill' as he possibly could. going at a medium pace as to keep everyone asleep, but damn no one ever told you something up there hurt like a bitch.

"trying," he said, leaning down and coming to kiss at your lips and neck. "need you so bad.." his thrusts were slowing down but still harsh and hard. he felt so good, finally feeling something around him other than his damn hand.

he himself couldn't lie that he felt a little something for you as well, even after he knew he would regret this. he might want this to keep going if he could let it happen.

"i know but, mngh.." your words cut off when he aimed at somewhere inside you specifically, making you forget everything all at once. "gosh, right there."

his heart sped up as did his movements. he couldn't help himself! he couldn't keep going so slow, it was killing him.

his hand slapped over your mouth, and feeling the vibrations of your muffled moans against his palm. the bed creaked, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close.