Disclaimer: I don't own Ricky and I'm not making any money from this.
Rating:NC17
Summary: Ricky's experiences in the army and his connection to Carteret.

Thank you Jen for being my Beta.

The Road 10

Leftenant Arnie Carteret was what used to be called, in intellectual circles, an aesthete. He considered his tastes, refined. Tall, slender, but muscular, proud of his looks. The smooth olive skin and large, deep brown eyes marked him down as not quite English. But, as his family were mostly in trade, it didn't matter all that much. He was from money, and, as the saying goes, money has no smell.
At Winchester, Cambridge and then Sandhurst, he was not out of place. Though the family were not of the first water, they were influential enough for him not to worry much about where life would take him. Though a clever man, he was inclined to indolence. When he had been posted to Malaya with the Royal Engineers, he thought it was a game. He thought he'd see out The Emergency, eating exotic food and fucking good looking native boys.
Then he met Sapper Deeming, Radio Operator 1st Class, conscript and good looking plebeian. He could sense the rebel in him; see the shadow of something interesting there, a something he wanted to taste. Arnie wanted the tall rangy 20-year old. He wanted the steel blue eyes to hood over as he touched him.
But Ricky was disinterested; the good looking leftenant favoured him that was obvious. His fellow squaddies made jokes about it, but he had heard it all before and ignored it.
Then they were sent up country to survey for a new road. A routine job, nothing too serious. The area was safe, no insurgents reported.
The transport only got them to the foothills, the rest of the journey was to be made on foot, establishing a base camp and spending four days on the task altogether.
Piece of piss.
"OK, Sergeant, take three men and scout out the village, it's called…" Leftenant Carteret flicked through his paperwork absently. "Yep, here we are, Tua Kampung." Carteret continued. "Corporal, you take three men and work westward to the river. Make camp and report conditions. Deeming, set up the radio post here and co-ordinate info from both groups. I'll get the topography work required started." The leftenant began to unpack his dump level and clinometer as he spoke. "And I want both groups back here by 07.00 tomorrow."
Sergeant Stanford and Corporal Hope organised their men and went their separate ways. Ricky quietly and efficiently set up his equipment, climbing the nearby Gutta-percha tree to fix his aerial. He made test calls to the two groups to establish range and wavelengths. Ricky was pleased that he didn't have to tramp and hack his way through the unforgiving Malay forest, hoping that the latest group of native nutters were not about to jump them in the dark. The young soldiers didn't care about the politics, the rights or wrongs of the situation. They just wanted to do their time and go home.
By the time it was dark; Ricky had brewed tea and broken out the C-rations.
"That's wonderful Sapper, you'll make someone a tasty little wife." The leftenant joked as he sat by the small cooking fire.
Carteret accepted the proffered mug of tea and leaned back, comfortable in his own skin.
Ricky was jumpy, unsure of how he felt about the 'Nancy' officer.
"What are you going to do when your time's up, Sapper, got any plans? Little girly at home waiting, is there?"
Ricky ignored the last question; the bloke was obviously trying to suss him out. "Not sure sir. I might apply for university, or I got a mate with a garage, builds motorbikes. Might go in with him."
"University? Eh…what subject?" Carteret raised an eyebrow. He was right, there was more to this boy than met the eye.
"Have to be medieval literature; I'm a great admirer of Chaucer." Yea, he was a Chaucer admirer, but Blake and Shaw, ah they were more like it. Not that he felt he would tell this upper class officer about his admiration for the anarchist poet and socialist playwright.
"Chaucer or motorbikes, tough choice." Carteret smiled slowly.
"And you sir, what are you going to do?"
The leftenant shrugged. "Pretty much what I do now, fuck where I will and live off my inheritance." He lit up a cigarette and handed it to Ricky.
Working on the soldier's maxim that a free fag is a free fag, Ricky took a deep drag. He coughed and pulled a face, holding the offending cigarette away. "Sweet Christ, what is that?"
"Hashish, never tried it, Sapper?" Carteret took it back and inhaled carefully.
"No…no. That what they call Malay Magic then?"
"I believe that's what they are calling it." The leftenant closed his eyes and contemplated his next move. He wanted to kiss the long muscular throat. But this needed to be taken very carefully. He passed the cigarette back to Ricky, who accepted, and drew on it with more care this time.
It made his eyes water, but he held the smoke in his lungs the way he'd seen the leftenant doing it, then he expelled it slowly.
His limbs relaxed, unbidden. He leaned his head as far back as he could, enjoying the strain on the muscles. "That was fuckin' amazin'. Not like booze is it?"
"Not much, but you may want to eat like a loon in a bit." Carteret smiled. Sapper Deeming was delicious, and he wanted to eat him now. "Stanford said you learnt Malay? Do you want to join Mad Mike Calvert and his Scouts? I knew him at home, a rum 'un. I could drop a word, if you like?"
Ricky laughed out loud. "I learnt a few words so I could find out what I was eatin', not so I could join that bunch of fruitcakes! Oh, and by the way, tua kampung just means old villages, sir."
Carteret laughed again. "Oh, well, there you go. And there was me thinking you had a taste for adventure. Being a pedantic, and Chaucer notwithstanding, of course." Carteret took another drag.
"I'm as adventurous as the next bloke!" Ricky chuckled.
"How adventurous is that? They're a pretty dull lot here, from what I can see."
"Stop just looking at their dicks and you might find out different."
Now it was Carteret's turn to laugh. "But I like dicks!"
Ricky staggered to his feet. "I gotta take a piss." He turned to face the underbrush, leaning one arm on a low hanging branch above him. He freed himself and peed, groaning his relief.
He wasn't surprised by Carteret standing behind him; he had sort of expected it. His commanding officer was slightly taller, and he looked over Ricky's shoulder.
"Yep, I like dicks, and, my, are we not a big boy, Sapper." Carteret smiled. "Get much use from him since you've been here?"
"Enough," Ricky said gruffly.
Carteret leaned closer, his breath warm on Ricky's ear. "Want some more?" His voice was low as his hand slid down the Sappers belly.
Ricky let him. He was curious, he wasn't a virgin and all his adolescent life he had been accused of this, why not see if it was the real him?
The hand closed over his, moving his own slowly up and down, teasingly. Ricky swallowed hard and drew his own hand away, gripping the over-hanging branch with both hands now. A sigh of something, that could have been relief, escaped him.
Carteret's knowing palm moved with practiced ease, not pumping him yet, just trailing teasing caresses along the hard ridged fullness. The boy was beautiful, strong, confident and ready. This would be such a pleasure. He dragged his nail over the swollen head, Ricky hissed and winced, but let him. Carteret kissed the enticing neck below the ear, eliciting a deep groan in response.
And now he pumped, gripping the hardness just firmly enough not hurt too much. Ricky grunted and moved against him, flexing his hips forward and back. Carteret was relentless. His own erection, throbbing painfully, could wait. He knew he would be rewarded for his discomfort.
Ricky's spine spasmed, he moaned, as white fire curled up and surged down his belly and into his balls. His eyes snapped open, he cried out, "Fuck, oh Jesus, fuck!" and came, a flood of liquid crystalline heat shot from him.
Ricky Deeming flung his head back and laughed.