Active Duty - Hunter And Bailey -gay- -

Outside, a helicopter thrummed in the distance. War was still out there. But in that small, borrowed space, they had found something worth coming home for.

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. Active Duty - Hunter and Bailey -Gay-

"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." Outside, a helicopter thrummed in the distance

Active Duty: The Distance Between Us

"You skipped chow again," Bailey said, leaning against the doorframe of the conex box they shared. His ACU top was unbuttoned, revealing a gray t-shirt underneath. A medic’s patch was sewn over his heart. "I brought you an MRE. Chili Mac. Your favorite." Then Hunter moved

"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."

When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, Bailey let out a shaky laugh. "Took you long enough, Sergeant."