Title: Lazarus Heart

Fandom: Tigerland

Rating: R

Pairings: Bozz/Coda

Spoilers: Probably won't make much sense if you haven't seen the
film.

Summary: Set on leaving camp, Bozz hates that he's found more than
one reason to stick around.

Disclaimer: Ross Klavan and Michael McGruther own these characters. I
just like playing with them.

Author's Notes: I started this fic for Devin eons ago - and thanks
to him, I found the inspiration to finish it.

...Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself
At the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you can't hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside...

Lazarus Heart - Sting

There was just enough moonlight for Bozz to look at his watch and
know what time it was. And it wasn't quite time yet. He could hear
Paxton sobbing a few feet away from him and fought the strong urge to
go to him. He knew he could offer comfort to his friend, but that
would mean he'd have to stay longer than he wanted.

Glancing over to the next cot, he could make out Johnson. It didn't
matter to Bozz that Johnson might know what things were between
Paxton and himself. In fact, he was sure it wasn't a secret. And it
didn't seem to matter. But going to Paxton – giving the boy what he
needed, well, that would just make it close to impossible for Bozz to
leave. And leaving was what Bozz intended to do.

Another wracking sob and Bozz was sitting up. A hand held his
shoulder and he jumped. Cota. A finger pressed to his lips begged
Bozz's silence. Cota stepped back into the shadows, and Bozz was
quiet as he stood and followed him.

Once outside, they moved into the trees. Cota's chest was bare and
Bozz licked his lips, something he did when there was nothing to say,
and stood there patiently gazing at the man. Cota smiled. Or gave
Bozz something that resembled a smile. Cota moved closer and Bozz
stepped backward, feeling the press of a tree trunk against his back.

Curious hands moved cautiously out to touch the smooth skin of Cota's
shoulders and arms. Soft. Like Paxton. Thoughts of the wounded man
swirled behind Bozz's eyes and he closed them, working to either
force the thoughts out or bring them closer. Either way, Paxton was
embedded in his memory. Cota, too, was imbedded in Bozz's head.

If Bozz were the kind of soldier that was expected of him. If he
accepted that he could be that kind of person, Cota would represent
everything about that soldier. And Bozz had spent a lot of time
contemplating Cota. How had this confident, capable Sergeant
maintained his compassion in this forsaken place? Compassion that
Bozz could not only see, but feel. And right now, he needed it, even
if it were just for a few moments.

Here, in this place - moments were all he would ever have of anything
good or soft or on Cota's forearm, Bozz pulled him one
step closer, gasping as their hips brushed together. Cota, unable to
stop himself, brought his mouth down to cover Bozz's.

Hunger. That's what Cota tasted like to Bozz. Giving in to it, Bozz
let himself be devoured by the Sergeant. For once he didn't feel like
he was taking advantage of someone else. Because that's what it felt
like for Bozz. That yes, he gave Miter a way home, but what he took
from him made it seem like a condition. The same as with Paxton,
though Jim was great at trying to prove Bozz wrong – that things were
mutual between them. Yet, it still felt like stealing to Bozz. Taking
something from someone who felt too vulnerable to refuse. And even if
that wasn't the truth, it was what Bozz believed. But that was Miter.
And Paxton. This was Cota.

Shuddering under Cota's touch, Bozz took what was offered to him –
something no one had ever given him. Freedom. From responsibility. He
could have this with Cota and it was almost too much for Bozz. When
those strong hands pulled at his shirt, Bozz raised his arms –
surrendering to whatever Cota may ask of him. Warm heat closing over
his nipple made him cry out. Cota's low chuckle silenced him for a
moment as his pants were undone and pulled down over his lean hips.
Trying not to make another sound as Cota falls to his knees before
him.

Never before has anyone just… wanted him. This was so good. Eyes
squeezed shut, hips thrusting ever so gently into Cota's willing
mouth, Bozz is biting his lips. Salty sweat trickles down his cheeks,
travelling down and onto his chest. And he can't forget the tears,
also salty and a little sweet as he tastest them on his own lips.

Cota's hand is back on his chest, tweaking him - tuning him to a
fine, deep and resonant hum. His whole body aches for more. For
release. Gently, he pushes Cota's face away, looking down at him,
surprised by the hurt expression. Eyes, stormy with need, peer up at
Bozz questioningly.

Sinking to his knees, Bozz covers Cota's mouth with his own once
more. This should be answer enough, he thinks, for he cannot wait
this one moment longer. His whole body begs participation. Leaning
heavily into Cota's chest, he tips them backward onto the marshy
ground. Reaching down and undoing Cota's pants, he takes the hard
cock into his hand and pumps him steadily, eyes never leaving Cota's
gaze. Slowly, Bozz crawls up the Sergeant and aligns their hips,
rolling against him, acquainting their bodies.

"Better", is all Bozz can manage before taking that mouth again,
continuing to push solidly against Cota, taking comfort in the heavy
body beneath his own.

He senses his own fragility, knowing that he, like everyone else
inside this camp, can be shattered. Thinks of Paxton, broken already,
the thought making him shiver. In another instant, he acknowledges
that he - Bozz - can also be snuffed out.

Thrusting harder against Cota, swallowing all of his cries, he rages
against that sweet death, and goes in search of a finer one. Maybe
he'll never feel it again, Bozz thinks, taking them both in his hand,
pumping even as he thrusts. Maybe after all this is over, he'll never
see Cota again, either. But who has time for maybes, Bozz thinks -
pushing the thoughts away, coming hard - spilling himself over Cota,
who also finishes with a mildly suppressed groan.

Later, as he moves through the dense terrain, heading back to
camp `just in time', all those maybes come crashing down over Bozz.
And he smiles, rebelling against them, the memory of Cota sweet and
fresh in his mind.