Title: And Only Duty Remains
Author: Deb Hicks
Summary: To stay alive in a hostile Arab camp, Troy must act as Dietrich's slave. The situation leads Troy to an interesting discovery about Dietrich, and himself.
Note: First in the "Duty" series. Originally printed in FLANKING MANEUVERS 1

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The blanket providing shade was snatched away, letting the sun heat his sweatsoaked clothes. Troy blinked up, squinting. A figure stepped into the sun, throwing him into shadow and easing the headache he was nursing. Troy tried to sit up only to be brought up short by the rope binding his hands.

Captain Dietrich shoved him upright, then pulled him out of the re-marked American jeep. While Troy steadied himself against the hot metal, Dietrich clasped his hands behind his back and stated very calmly, "Sergeant, Mohadid and a dozen of his men are approaching. You know his feelings toward Americans. If I tell him you are my prisoner, he may let you live; he may shoot you immediately; he may sell you to one of his men; or he may keep you for himself."

Troy glanced at the fast approaching horsemen. He accepted that Dietrich was being truthful about his options. There had been enough reports from both sides on Mohadid and his men to justify his statements.

"Or?" he asked quickly. It was obvious that Dietrich had another plan, though Troy was certain he wouldn't like it.

"Or," Dietrich paused. He seemed as reluctant to mention it as Troy was to hear it. "Or you can play the role of my slave. Mohadid will not go against tradition concerning--"

"Forget it!" Troy snapped.

Dietrich shrugged. "Very well. I hope you enjoy the attentions of other men, probably several."

The image the German conjured up hit him like the noonday sun. Troy glanced toward the riders. "Why do you care?" Troy demanded of the captain.

Dietrich straightened, coming to his full height. "Despite the fact that you are my enemy, Sergeant, I have no desire to see anyone forcibly sodomized."

The officer stared at him, waiting. The pounding of hooves on the hard sand echoed through Troy's boots.

"What do I do?" Troy questioned sullenly.

Stepping closer, Dietrich turned him and untied the ropes that bound his Troy's hands. "Don't try to escape; they will kill you for that. Stay behind me. Bring me food and drink if they offer it. Stay quiet and don't look up."

Troy rubbed his hands, wincing at the return of blood. Dietrich reached toward him and Troy's hand came up to block him.

"And stop that!" Dietrich barked.

Dropping his hand, Troy forced himself to hold still as Dietrich ripped the insignia off his hat. To Troy's surprise, Dietrich offered him the small piece of cloth. "It is fortunate that you are not in uniform."

"Would have been more fortunate if my plane hadn't gone down," Troy said wryly.

That gained him a nearly invisible smile. Anything else was cut off by the spray of sand as the chieftain's horse slid to a halt next to Dietrich's vehicle. The man vaulted off the animal.

"Captain Dietrich!" He yelled in greeting.

The man's accent was strong, and he pronounced "captain" with a French twist to it. From under lowered eyes, Troy watched the chief. He was tall with a wide smile and handsome, broad features. The man wrapped Dietrich in a hug which, to Troy's surprise, the German returned. The captain's long experience with the desert tribes showed even more when he held his ground as Mohadid leaned in close, talking rapidly. Most Americans and Europeans tended to lean away.

Dietrich's arm suddenly settled around Troy's shoulders. Troy stiffened, almost jerking away, as much from pain as from surprise. He had bailed out of the damaged plane but not before being shaken up during the flight. Luck had been with him, he had come down only a few miles from one of the infrequent oases--and right into Dietrich's lap.

The German's long fingers dug into his arm, reminding him of the situation, and of the possibly fatal consequences of trying to move away. With a supreme effort Troy held still and relaxed his back and shoulders. The hard grip turned into a light pat. Anger at the condescending attitude flared through him but never reached his face. Dietrich said something that brought a laugh from the Arab. The strong arm stayed for another minute, then Dietrich moved away. Remembering his instructions, Troy fell into step behind the German.

The oasis was quiet; only the soft gurgle of water flowing into the pool broke the silence. Dietrich, the chief and Troy moved to the shade of a date palm, watching as the group set up their temporary camp with quick efficiency. Beside him, Troy heard Dietrich cough lightly. Troy carefully cut his eyes sideways to look at the tall captain. Dietrich glanced discreetly to the pool.

Unbelting his canteen, Troy knelt and filled it with fresh water. He walked back and offered it to the captain. Dietrich smiled at him as he took the warm metal container. The captain drank deeply, then handed the canteen back to Troy. Troy met the brown eyes, asking silently if it was safe to drink. A slight nod answered him .

Mohadid asked something and Dietrich answered with a slight shrug. The chief laughed. With a pat to Dietrich's shoulder, the man moved off to oversee the settling of the horses.

"What's going on?" Troy asked with forced patience.

"We've been offered the use of a tent until my men arrive." With the slightest hint of amusement, Dietrich said, "He also noted your unfamiliarity with servitude. I explained you were a recent purchase and that Americans are exceptionally hard to train."

"Very funny, Captain," Troy growled.

"Come along, Sergeant," Dietrich said easily.



Carrying their dinner back, Troy started to sit down next to Dietrich on a palm log but at the last minute slid to the ground in front of him instead. He could sense the German's amusement, and while the situation irritated him, he had to admit that Dietrich was being quite restrained. The man could have had him jumping through hoops.

A pair of boots appeared at the edge of his vision. He continued to eat as the Arab spoke to Dietrich with quick, sharp sentences. Silence claimed the camp. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a stiffness coming into Dietrich's muscles. Despite the tension, Dietrich's reply was light and easy, and obviously not what the man wanted to hear. The man stomped away.

Dietrich's tension didn't fade. The officer leaned forward, placing his plate on the ground next to Troy's knee. "Sergeant," the cultured voice said softly, "you must follow my lead, no matter how... unusual, or we are both in very big trouble."

Not liking the implication of either half of the statement, Troy met Dietrich's eyes. There was no duplicity in the man's expression, only concern and the knowledge that he was asking a lot of the American. Without prompting, Troy retrieved both bowls, walked to pool and washed them before returning them to Mohadid with a slight bow. When he came back, he once more started toward the ground, only to have Dietrich's hand on his arm urge him up to sit next to the captain. The impulse to jerk away was nearly gone, lost to worry over what was about to happen. Sitting down next to Dietrich, he gave him a very slight nod. Dietrich draped an arm over his shoulders.

One of the Arabs spoke again and not for the first time, Troy wished he understood the language. He made a quick promise to himself that when he got out of this, he would have Moffitt teach him enough to get by. Dietrich smiled as he answered the man. At the same time, his hand moved up to rub along the back of Troy's neck. Troy stiffened.

"Sergeant," Dietrich warned from behind the smile.

"What the hell...?" Troy hissed.

"We are being watched," Dietrich whispered sharply. "Try to look relaxed."

His hand slid down Troy's back, tracing his spine. And Troy suddenly understood what Dietrich had been warning him about. Blinding anger hit him, stiffening his back. Dietrich's hand came up again, tightened on his neck.

Troy forced a smile to his face. "Are you telling me...?"

"Yes," Dietrich said smoothly.

Dietrich's hand once more moved into his hair, tugging on it playfully. The anger lasted a moment longer, then to Troy's amusement he found himself relaxing. Now that he knew what was expected of him, it wasn't nearly as worrisome as being left in the dark. Any further reaction was cut off by a comment from Mohadid and Dietrich's light answer.

Turning to Troy, Dietrich smiled. "He is wondering why you are blushing, Sergeant. I told him that you are shy."

"I'll get you for this, Captain," Troy threatened with a warm smile.

The same harsh voice that had spoken before now came out of the darkness. Dietrich's hand fell away from Troy's neck, landed gently on his thigh. Without the slightest hesitation, Troy covered it with his own. He was pleased to feel Dietrich stiffen in surprise. Two could play the game, Troy decided. But Dietrich was good, never missing a beat in his reply. Whatever he said sent a wave of laughter through the men around them. Troy couldn't tell be sure but he had a feeling the one who had offered the first comment wasn't laughing.

The dark grew around them and Troy's exhaustion grew with it. Vaguely, he realized that it had been nearly thirty-six hours since he'd had any sleep beyond a few hours during the rough plane ride. The strong hand tracing along his back felt good. He stared into the fire, his thoughts drifting to his team.

For one of the few times in his career, he knew there was no chance of their finding him. He had hitched an unauthorized ride, on his way back after a rare leave in Morado when the plane had been shot down. Only the pilot had known he was there and the pilot was dead. All the Rat Patrol would ever know was that he disappeared while on leave. The thought ambushed him that Dietrich would make sure they learned his fate--if only so that he could try to trap them if they tried a rescue.

He jerked awake, having dozed off against Dietrich's shoulder. Dietrich tightened his hold and pulled him to his feet. The captain, in some of the few words Troy knew, bid the tribesmen goodnight. As they moved toward the tent Troy thought of pulling away but gave up, realizing that he needed the support. Dietrich brought them into the tent and released him to turn up the lantern.

"What did that loud one want?" Troy questioned, blurry.

"Sit down, Sergeant," Dietrich ordered, "before you fall down."

Part of Troy rebelled at taking orders from the German, but before he could protest, his body betrayed him and he sank to a pile of pillows on the carpet covered sand. He could feel Dietrich's appraising gaze. He looked up, and was startled to find Dietrich standing directly in front of him.

"Are you injured?" Dietrich sounded confused.

Troy shook his head. "Haven't slept."

Dietrich nodded, returning to Troy's question. "The man's name is Rasta. The first time he wanted to... borrow you."

Puzzled, Troy glanced up. "I don't understand. I thought the Koran forbade--"

"Sergeant," Dietrich chastised, "you are assuming that all Arabs are Muslim. That is not the case."

With a sigh, Troy admitted his mistake. "Okay. Then?"

This gained him a quick smile. "Then he offered me a considerable sum of money for your services."

Remembering the other man's tone, Troy guessed, "He didn't want to take no for an answer?"

"He finds you quite desirable," Dietrich said blandly. He added, "He challenged my ownership, saying that you were unmarked."

"How'd you answer that one?" Troy wondered, amused by Dietrich's vague unease.

Dietrich sighed, staring at the ground before cutting his eyes up to met Troy's. "I explained that I did not want to mar your beauty."

Seeing the embarrassment on Dietrich's lean face, Troy started laughing, hard. His amusement reached his captor, gaining him a rare laugh from the tall German. Dietrich looked serious quickly.

"He may cause more trouble in the morning. Fortunately, the group is moving on just after morning meal."

Troy only nodded, the exhaustion closing in around him again.

After a minute, Dietrich said, "It would be best if you were to strip."

That cleared some of Troy's exhausted haze. "What?"

Dietrich already had his coat off, was now working on the buttons of his shirt. "If Rasta decides to... check on us for some reason, it will look rather odd if you are fully dressed."

Clenching his teeth, Troy said tightly, "Captain, this has gone far enough...."

Whirling around, Dietrich stood over him, real anger glittering in the dark eyes. "Sergeant, need I remind you that it is now more than just your life at stake here! If the lie is discovered, both of us will be accountable."

They glared at each other for a long time, then Dietrich raised one eyebrow in that sardonic manner that he had mastered. "Is this any more difficult than playing a blind man?"

Carefully, Troy said, "I don't know what...."

Waving it off, Dietrich said, "Come, come, Sergeant, I know your style enough by now to know it was you."

Leaving it at that, Dietrich turned and continued to undress, folding his clothes carefully into a neat pile. Troy felt a blush rising, though he couldn't have said why. He'd certainly seen more naked men since joining the Army than he had ever expected to. Glancing away, he realized something else--there was only one sleeping mat in the tent.

"Damn," he whispered.

A touch of guilt hit him. Dietrich was endangering his life to keep Troy in one piece. He owed the German at least a good effort at keeping up the pretense. It was only a matter of acting. There was also the pleasure he could get from keeping the good captain guessing. He climbed slowly to his feet and reached for his shirt. Dietrich turned, regarding him. For just an instant a shadow went through the chocolate colored eyes.

"A sensible decision," Dietrich said with a short nod, his voice revealing nothing of the nervousness Troy had caught.

The man turned to pull off his shorts. Troy found himself staring at Dietrich's lean form. Dietrich was thin, fair and decorated with telltale white patches that Troy recognized all too easily as scars. Troy noted the ones he had been the cause of and almost smiled; he sported just as many because of the German. Dietrich stretched out on the mat and pulled the heavy felt blanket up to his chest. Troy met Dietrich's gaze and saw a slow blush color the fair skin. The knowledge that Dietrich was having a problem with the situation made it easier to shed the last of his clothes. He carefully eased the shirt over his bruises.

"Uninjured?" Dietrich repeated sarcastically.

Knowing he couldn't hide the dark areas, Troy merely shrugged. "Just bruised."

Dietrich let it go. With the same careful moves he would have used in a mine field, Troy lay down next to the captain, as far away as he could. Dietrich chuckled, reaching for the lamp.

"Do not worry, Sergeant, your virtue is safe with me."

"Yeah. But what about my reputation?"



He woke up shivering. For a long moment he lay there, wondering what had happened to the warmth that had lulled him into a deep sleep. Memories came flooding back and with a flare of dismay Troy realized that he had been wrapped around a warm body, and the only other body in the tent belonged to Captain Dietrich. Obviously the German had made the same discovery, which explained Troy's sudden lack of a bedwarmer.

Opening his eyes just a fraction, Troy was startled to find the tent bathed in light. The full desert moon, startlingly bright, had risen, casting silver through the thin tent walls. In the soft moonlight, Troy glanced around, remaining still except for his searching gaze. Dietrich hadn't gone far. The tall German was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the mat. He was staring, not so much at Troy as through him. There was such a look of infinite sorrow in Dietrich's expression that Troy felt the completely irritating urge to ask him what was wrong.

Not noticing that Troy was awake, Dietrich hesitantly brushed his fingers over Troy's bare shoulder. With a jerk, he pulled his hand away. He draped the blanket gently over Troy and rose, walking away with anger in his step. The caress, there was no other word for it, and the erection that was visible when the captain turned gave Troy the answer to his unasked question.

"Damn," he gasped, too shocked to do anything else. "You're a...." He clamped his mouth over the words he'd been about to utter.

Dietrich had whirled at the first expletive. His expression turned dangerous. "I am what, Sergeant? A faggot? A queer?" He demanded. "How many other words does your language have for it?"

Troy sat up and they stared at each other for a long, long time. Dietrich's anger died and he sighed. "Go back to sleep, Sergeant. Despite appearances, your virtue is still safe with me."

But Troy was still grappling with this startling development. "I don't understand," he admitted. "How can you be in a captain..."

"My preference in bed partners, Sergeant," Dietrich said hotly, "does not interfere with my ability to..."

"Damnit, Dietrich," Troy snapped, "stop putting words into my mouth!"

That stopped the German cold.

Troy came to his feet. "I meant, isn't it risky for you? It's bad enough in the U.S. but I understood the Nazis were..."

Dietrich laughed, a short cold sound that grated against Troy's nerves. "Oh, Sergeant, you have no idea what is planned for me."

Sitting down, Dietrich closed his eyes and gave a single nod to himself, a sign Troy knew signaled his acceptance of something inevitable. Strangely, when the dark eyes again met Troy's there was the slightest hint of wry amusement in them.

"Sergeant, has it never seemed odd to you that a Wehrmacht panzer captain was running escort duty behind lines?" Dietrich obviously wasn't expecting an answer. "The high command discovered my secret after I was too well-known, too well-decorated. It would have been bad for morale to have me court-martialed and shot."

"So, I am left here." His voice grew very soft. "I will not see home again, Sergeant. If we are driven out of Africa, I will be left to hold the rear, left to die for Germany." Dietrich looked up at him and added dryly, "Of course, command hopes that you will kill me sooner. In that way, I am a martyred hero, instead of a dead fag."

"But," Troy started in obviously confusion, "you're one of Rommel's golden boys. Does he...?"

"No, Sergeant, he does not know." Sadly, he continued, "But Rommel is not... in a good position anymore. He has been ill. He will be recalled to Germany soon."

Something in Troy's expression caught Dietrich's attention and he almost smiled, "I am not giving away secrets. Your high command is already more than aware of the development."

Troy took a deep breath, eased it out slowly. "And your high command would rather lose a talented tank commander rather than just look the other way."

"And your army?" Dietrich questioned coldly. "What would it do?"

"Court-martial," Troy said quietly. "Boot out. But not death."

Troy looked up to find Dietrich studying him intently. He waited, knowing the question the German was going to ask.

"You are taking this rather calmly," Dietrich observed. "Most normal men would have shot me, punched me or wrapped themselves with several blankets by now and be demanding I get out."

He thought of lying, of pointing out that he didn't have any of the mentioned options. But the knowledge that Dietrich had been honest with him, even knowing that Troy could turn the secret against him, forced him to tell the truth.

"I know someone like you," he said simply. Then, he admitted, "My brother."

Troy's thoughts drifted away to home, to the dismay and betrayal he had felt when David had confessed his nature to him. Troy'd been twenty-four, his brother four years younger. For a year Troy had refused to talk to him, never telling his parents why but always managing to avoid David when they were home together. Then their father had died, and Troy had discovered that nothing--nothing--was more important than family.

Once he had acknowledged David's way of life, he had found himself wondering about things that he knew he shouldn't have been wondering about, asking questions he shouldn't have asked. Worse, as David had answered the questions, Troy had found himself swamped with a dangerous curiosity.

Dietrich cleared his throat, interrupting his thoughts. "He is in the army?"

"RAF," Troy explained. "He figured there was less a chance to get found out."

"Close friends," Dietrich conceded, "are rare."

Troy watched Dietrich shiver and felt an echo along his own nerves. "Captain, we're both going to freeze if you keep sitting over there looking shocked. Come back to ... sleep."

Dietrich took a deep breath. "That would not be wise, Sergeant." At Troy's blank look, he added, hesitantly, "It has been a very long time since I shared a bed with someone."

The words were subtle, totally Dietrich, but Troy understood immediately. He was safe, but it would be a hardship and an embarrassment for the captain. Troy suddenly felt a sweeping return of those forbidden questions and memories, feelings that he thought long since forgotten, feelings that brought a host of erotic images. He took a sharp breath, looked up at Dietrich. The German's dark eyes narrowed.

"Dangerous thoughts, Sergeant," he said quietly.

Troy was not surprised that his thoughts were clear to the man. Since their first encounter and especially since their arduous escape from the slave traders, they had shared a strange rapport. He held the officer's gaze, not afraid of what he was thinking. "What's the harm? Not exactly anyone here that's going to report us," Troy said calmly. He stood up, closed to just a few inches on Dietrich. "You're horny and I'm curious. Why not?"

An angry glitter, very visible in the bright moonlight, filled Dietrich's eyes. "You are assuming, as some normal men do, that we are willing to have sex with any other male on the planet."

Troy took a step back, not from fear but from his own anger. "Damnit, Captain, if you jumped to this many conclusions in a battle I'd have killed you months ago!"

Dietrich stared at him.

"I don't believe that of David and I don't believe that of you." Pointedly, he looked down at Dietrich's half-risen cock. "But your body seems to have other ideas."

"And what would your reaction be," Dietrich demanded, "if you awoke next to a beautiful woman, even if you had no interest in being intimate?"

Shaking his head, Troy flopped back on the bed, grabbed the blanket and pulled it up. "Stay there and freeze."

He lay there shivering a long time before the cover was raised slightly and Dietrich slipped in next to him. The German still kept his distance, though, and Troy shrugged to himself. It was probably for the best; curiosity was dangerous. Dietrich was too far away to help keep him warm, but there wasn't anything he could do about it so he forced himself to try to sleep.

Sleep was just claiming him when he felt a callused hand slide slowly down his arm. He stayed still, feeling his mind and body response to the touch. The response was warmth, no heat, no arousal but a safe, pleasant feeling of being touched. The hand stopped at his wrist, holding it loosely.

"What are you curious about, Sergeant?" Dietrich's voice purred softly next to his ear. "How curious are you?"

It was an honest request, Troy realized for how much he wanted to do, how far he was willing to go. For the first time a slight edge of fear touched his stomach. It only served to kick the soft warmth from Dietrich's hand up a notch. He cursed himself, not for the first time, for being addicted to adrenaline. Looking over his shoulder, he found himself caught by Dietrich's gaze.

After a minute, he said honestly, "I want to know what it's like when you don't have to be careful. I want to know what it's like to give up... control."

"But?" Dietrich had heard the fear in his voice.

"But," Troy picked up. "The mind is willing, what the body decides, as you well know, may be something completely different."

"Nicely put, Sergeant," Dietrich conceded.

Troy watched a typically thoughtful expression come over Dietrich's face. The German never did any thing impulsively. Troy smiled; it was one of the man's greatest strengths--and biggest weaknesses.

"And what of my part of this truce?" Dietrich questioned.

"What?"

"A truce is usually a reciprocal agreement. I will satisfy your curiosity," Dietrich said. "But that act is not a guarantee to my own satisfaction."

Challenge now coupled with the fear. Troy had never had sex with another male. Dietrich was experienced. A slow smile traced along Troy's mouth. The danger and challenge were doing interesting things to his nerves. He rolled over onto his back, reached out and stroked along Dietrich's sternum.

"I'm a fast learner," Troy said in broken German. He was rewarded with a surprised look from Dietrich. Switching back to English, he said, "Show me how."

For another minute they regarded each other, Troy's hand on Dietrich's chest, Dietrich's long fingers loosely around Troy's wrist. Dietrich slid his hand up Troy's chilled arm, leaving heat behind. Still smiling, Troy let his own hand drift up to Dietrich's throat. He cupped the lean chin for an instant, then he moved on to tease a slow circle around Dietrich's ear. A low moan answered his touch and the German's large hand tightened on his shoulder. Troy let his smile grow; maybe this wasn't so different from being with a woman.

That thought changed instantly as Dietrich wrapped him in a tight hold and easily pulled him closer. Dietrich laid light kisses along his collarbone, up his throat. Troy tried to return the favor but he was held immobile by the bigger man. For an instant panic touched him. Dietrich kissed along his lips, across the edge of his chin. The panic veered into lust. Troy gasped, struggling to move, struggling to pull Dietrich closer, wanting more of the erotic touch.

Dietrich pulled back, obviously confused by Troy's struggles. "Changed your mind...?"

Troy's hands came free and he grabbed Dietrich around the neck, dragging him down to meet his mouth. Dietrich stiffened for an instant, then rolled over, carrying Troy with him to rest on his chest. Dietrich's full lips parted, offering his mouth to Troy. He plunged in, dueling with the officer's tongue. The arousal sounded through his body and he felt his cock fill, demanding more. They broke apart, each taking a deep breath. Deep brown eyes, nearly black in the bright moonlight, glowed up at him.

"You are very good at that," Dietrich told him.

"No complaints so far," Troy said boldly.

Dietrich only smiled. "We shall see."

Troy's response was stopped by Dietrich's hands. One slid into his hair, playing along his neck, the other pressed hard along his spine, moving down to knead his ass. With a deep moan, Troy lowered his head to Dietrich's chest, licking a slow circle around each nipple, vaguely amused by the light patch of hair that tickled his lips. As before, his move was a good one and Dietrich's hand urged him down. He flicked his tongue across one raised nipple then started to suck, hard. Dietrich arched up.

"Gott..." he moaned. "Harder...."

They stayed that way, Dietrich moaning softly, Troy intrigued by the salty taste of Dietrich's soft skin, enjoying the captain's abandon. It was not what he had expected, he was leading. The tall German slipped under him and for the first time, Troy felt Dietrich's solid cock prod his stomach, rub across his own erection. The effect was hot wind through his blood. He moaned.

Dietrich's hand trailed down his flank, tickled for an instant at his hip then slipped between their pressed bodies. "Slide over," Dietrich's rich voice requested.

Troy slipped over, lying close, one leg over Dietrich's two. At the same time Dietrich turned his attention to Troy's face and mouth, laying featherlight kisses along his chin and cheeks. Dietrich's large hand wrapped around Troy's cock and he arched back, gasping.

"Damn..."

With a deep laugh, Dietrich's hand began to move, slowly sliding and tightening on Troy's solid shaft. Troy thrust into the tight hold, begging for more. Straddling Troy's hips, Dietrich continued the slow moves along Troy's cock. He leaned forward, his other hand tangling in Troy's hair, holding his head still as he plundered his mouth. Troy groaned, sucking on the hard intruder; the feel of it filling his mouth was exciting. Instinct kicked in and Troy struggled to reclaim the lead, needing to pleasure his bedmate.

Dietrich released his mouth, and whispered into his ear, "Lie back and learn."

Troy forced himself to relax, to close his eyes and let the large hands play along his body. The touch was solid and light, teasing and erotic. He was so lost in the sensual haze that he didn't realize Dietrich had shifted until the first slow swipe of the man's tongue on his hot cock arched him off the mat. Before he could recover, Dietrich's mouth closed over his shaft, tongue playing under the sensitive head. Noonday sun exploded in his blood.

"Yeah," he moaned, thrusting up hard into the wet heat.

His hands tightened in Dietrich's hair. Dietrich began to alternate between sucking and slow licks. Troy fought away the fast rising heat, tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. It occurred to him how soft the dark hair around his fingers was. He opened his eyes, stared down at the man slowly pleasuring him, watched his cock slid through the wet lips. Troy let himself consider Dietrich's sharp features, the eyes that could be both hard and joking at the same time; the full mouth that rarely smiled and then only with a wry tilt to one side. Dietrich was handsome, Troy decided, not noticeably like Hitch or with Moffitt's striking hazel eyes, but in a stern, rugged way that fit the German's personality.

Reluctantly he acknowledged something else, the sorrow that also seemed so much a part of Dietrich. It had been there as long as he had fought the German; lurking in the dark eyes as he watched his men killed or as he followed duty that his heart wasn't in. Now, Troy knew it went beyond the war. Troy's thoughts turned to David, to his brother's eternal cheerfulness in the face of his eternal loneliness. He let his hand slid down Dietrich's face, brushed the back of his fingers over the man's temple.

Something changed; the challenge was still there but altered. It was no longer a game to prove he could do it as well as the German. Troy frowned to himself. Introspection was not something he was comfortable with. He knew through that he wanted to give the man as much pleasure as he was being given, wanted him to know something besides sorrow. Something in the dark eyes told him that Dietrich sensed the change, and was confused by it.

Dietrich paused, slowly stopping his erotic play. He regarded Troy silently for a moment, hand still tight around the base of Troy's cock. Troy moved easily out of Dietrich's grasp, pulled the startled German to his knees and kissed him very slowly, very thoroughly. His hands ran down the firm body, over the surprisingly prominant ribs and hips. Dietrich's ass clenched as Troy grabbed him, kneading hard and forcing them together. He broke the kiss, noting that they were both breathing hard.

"Do you know what a 69 is, Captain?" he asked, kissing lightly along Dietrich's neck.

"No," Dietrich whispered.

Smiling, Troy tugged him sideways. "Then lie back and learn."

From the frown he received, Troy could tell that Dietrich was having as hard a time as he was letting someone else lead. Troy was about to remedy that problem. As Dietrich stretched out, Troy straddled him, a knee on each side of his head. A low chuckled filled the moonlit night as Dietrich understood the connotation of the term.

"Very clever," the captain admitted.

Dietrich's hand gripped Troy's cock and his mouth closed over the head again. Troy forced away the desert fire that flared through his veins, turning all his attention to the formidable sight of Dietrich's large shaft dancing mere inches from his nose. Any hesitation had long since passed into the night. A hand reached around his thigh, slipped over his ass, urging him to the rhythm that Dietrich was setting. Troy fought the move. Instead, he let his memories turn back to his last leave, to the more than willing barmaid. He forced himself to consider what she had done to him rather than giving over to the incredible feel of what Dietrich was doing. If he let himself feel Dietrich's slow, serious sucking, he knew he would come too soon.

He carded his fingers through the thick dark curls around the straining cock, tickled over the taut balls. Dietrich's rhythm faltered, encouraging Troy's moves. Gently, he pressed down on the heavy balls, rolling them under his hand. Dietrich gasped, pulling away from Troy's cock with a sharp breath. With his other hand, Troy rubbed at the skin stretched tight just before the entrance to Dietrich's body. He shifted his hand to the big shaft and lightly flicked his tongue over the head, noting the taste of salt and what he guessed was pre-cum.

Another gasp rewarded his tentative efforts. Boldly, he traced his tongue along the thick vein, feeling the rushing pulse of blood through it.

"Sergeant...." Dietrich pleaded, much to Troy's surprise.

It came to him then that he had more control than Dietrich did. The reason was obvious, Troy managed frequent visits into town, could have any woman he wanted. It was a luxury that Captain Dietrich would never know. His momentary thoughtfulness gave Dietrich a respite to pick up the sensuous assault on Troy's senses. Troy moaned, letting himself go into the velvet inferno. He thrust, letting his cock sink into the willing throat. Lowering his head, he resumed his own attack on Dietrich.

The shaft lay heavy on his tongue, nearly gagging him as he took as much of it as he could, pleased when he felt the dark curls brush his chin. He pulled back, stopping as his lips tightened around the head, then he went slowly back down, letting the skin slide along his tongue. Dietrich was moving faster. Troy felt the heat whip through his blood just as the wind whipped against the silk tent. He let more saliva flow down the hot shaft, let his fist cover the bottom of Dietrich's cock, following his mouth's tight trail, pumping in time to the increasing tempo. Dietrich groaned, thrusting up. Troy relaxed his jaw and throat, let Dietrich move freely. His cock hit the back of Dietrich's throat and he nearly gave into the feelings building in his blood.

Dietrich faltered, mouth falling away from Troy's cock, hand taking its place. The tight hold kept up the rhythm even as Dietrich gasped, thrusting up with near sobs. Troy released his thighs, braced himself with a hand on each side of the narrow hips. Dietrich's thrust became uneven, sideways as much as up and down. Troy smiled, never relinquishing his tight sucking. It was almost as if he could feel the storm that was building in Dietrich's blood, the tightening along the German's stomach, the clenching of his ass as he shoved his cock deep into Troy's mouth. Dietrich's shaft swelled and he cried out, body thrashing with release. Troy was ready, holding tight, swallowing as the hot liquid spilled down his throat.

As the last spasm shook the cock he held, Troy was suddenly engulfed in Dietrich's hot mouth again, being taken hard. The heat he had felt burn through Dietrich now claimed him. The soft cock slipped from his mouth and he cried out, burying himself far into Dietrich's throat. He felt the blood pulsing through his veins, felt the fire and ice blend in his nerves as it did in the desert night. Something new hit his senses: pressure pushed into his ass, pain, pleasure, and too much for his overheated senses. Troy let the desert heat claim him, crying out, his muscles locking, seed spilling into Dietrich's throat.

They lay for a long time, Troy's cock still nestled in Dietrich's mouth; Dietrich's single finger just inside his body. Dietrich moved first, easing his hand away, sliding out from under Troy's trembling body. Troy cut his eyes sideways, watched the captain stretch like a well-tended cat. He moved, shifting to lie next to, but slightly apart from Dietrich. They regarded each other silently. Troy sighed, feeling as he did with some of the one-nighters he'd had. He reminded himself that was exactly what this was. He didn't want that feeling to be the last they remembered.

He reached out, stroked along Dietrich's cheek, then he leaned forward and kissed him gently. Dietrich stared at him for a moment, then he smiled very slowly.

"You did not get your request, Sergeant," Dietrich said. "You were never out of control."

"Yeah, well, maybe not, but I liked what I got." Then, almost to himself, he added, "Maybe more than I should have."

Dietrich snorted. "Do not worry, Sergeant. Even normal males are allowed a single night of abandon."

"And you, Captain," Troy questioned levelly. "Did you get what you wanted?"

The light of amusement disappeared from Dietrich's expression. Very seriously, he said, "Yes, Sergeant."

Troy heard the sorrow in Dietrich's smooth voice, didn't know what to do about it. Ten years before, he had been lost for words of comfort for David. Now, he offered what he could; he pulled up the forgotten blanket to cover them and slipped his arm around the other man. Dietrich stiffened for an instant then he lifted his leg over Troy's, and returned the hold. They drifted to sleep minutes later.



Sunrise came too soon, though waking was pleasant enough. Troy stretched, reaching for the warmth he'd been wrapped in but found only empty bed. He sat up, his first thought was of escape. Glancing around he reached for his clothes, slipped them on and starting figuring his odds for getting out of the tent unnoticed. A deep chuckle sounded from the tent flap. He wasn't surprised to find Dietrich standing just inside the tent, his uniform looking as if he'd just had it pressed, a wry smile on the handsome face.

"Really, Sergeant," he reprimanded. "Kiss and run?"

There was humor in the statement, and a tone that asked a question that surprised Troy. Dietrich was wondering if he had any regrets. Thinking about that only took a minute. Troy smiled, answering both questions.

"Yeah, well, did you expect anything else?"

"Not at all," Dietrich admitted. He came across and sat down, handing one of the bowls he was carrying to Troy. "I would have been disappointed had you not thought about escape." Dietrich's eyes, light in the bright morning light, turned serious. "Will you be able to kill me to do it?"

Troy took a sharp breath. Once, standing outside a destroyed cave, Moffitt had asked him if he had had a chance to kill Dietrich; he had answered yes, he just hadn't tried. Not daring to answer, he asked instead, "And you, Captain, would you kill me to stop me?"

He could see the memories in Dietrich's face: a canteen left beside him, a chain, an unexplained shot that had saved Moffitt from a lunatic SS officer. Dietrich glanced away. "I will see you to a prisoner of war camp."

Troy smiled. "I would have been disappointed if you didn't."

The smell of the bowl of couscous made his stomach growl and Troy turned his attention to the meal. He was halfway finished when there was a raised voice from outside the tent. Even without speaking the language, he knew it meant trouble. Dietrich's expression turned both angry and worried. Coming to his feet, the captain handed his bowl to Troy.

"Stay here," he said.

Troy stood. "What's going on?"

"Stay here!" Dietrich ordered sharply.

"Damnit, Captain..." Troy's protest was to empty air as Dietrich went out.

For a long minute, Troy stood there, arguing with himself. Dietrich knew the tribes, was more than capable of taking care of the problem. Troy paced to the tent flap. Rasta was arguing loud and intensely, while Mohadid offered only a few soft comments, and lastly, Dietrich replied calmly and reasonably. Troy could hear an edge starting under the captain's words though. Rasta said something sharp and there was a moment of silence before Mohadid answered, with what sounded like regret. The only thing Troy heard from Dietrich was a soft sigh, the kind the German used when the situation had turned to one he didn't like. Troy couldn't sit out any longer.

Throwing open the tent flap, he kept his head down, glancing only once, very quickly up to Dietrich. The man's expression gave nothing away. Troy walked between the two Arabs, picked up a bowl and continued to the water. He filled the vessel and returned to Dietrich, standing quietly in front of him, with the bowl out. Silence claimed the area. Dietrich took the bowl, his mouth lifting in his strange half-smile. He sat the bowl down on the log. Behind them Mohadid said something.

"Sit down," Dietrich said quietly.

Troy sat on the nearest downed palm log. He continued to play his part, not looking up as Dietrich said, "Our tryst last night was overhead. But instead of strengthening our position, as it were, it seems that Rasta is even more insistent that an unmarked slave is open to claim."

Taking a sharp breath, Troy said quietly, "What would it take to mark me?"

Dietrich sat down next to him, his hand tightened on Troy's arm. "That is a brave offer, Sergeant, but it is too late. It seems if I want to keep you, I will have to fight for you."

There was no controlling his reaction to that announcement. Troy sat straight, eyes locking up Dietrich's. He looked sideways at the man causing the trouble. Rasta was shorter than Dietrich but heavier. He was wearing only the baggy trousers favored by the tribes, his broad chest showing scars that proved he usually got what he wanted. A large slightly curved knife waved in his hand. Troy swallowed, fighting back the dread that shook him.

"Well, it was a good try while it lasted," he said quietly.

Dietrich glanced away, closing his eyes. Troy stood, took a step toward the Arab. He could see the lust surging through the man's expression.

"No," Dietrich's sharp command brought Troy to a halt.

Troy watched in confusion as the German stood and started to unbutton his coat. Troy's eyes narrowed, Dietrich's objective becoming shockingly clear. He stepped back and gripped Dietrich's arm.

"Now just one damn minute, Captain. Playing along is one thing but you don't owe me anything for last..."

Dietrich's hand whipped out, caught his shoulder just at the bruise, shoving him down even as he flinched away from the pain. Leaning close, Dietrich hissed, "You are mine - if they keep believing that..."

"Goddamnit, Dietrich!" Troy snapped, held down by the powerful hand on his shoulder. "It's over. You're going to get killed and I'm going to get raped." His voice softened. "My way, no one dies."

"Sergeant," Dietrich said quietly, his grip loosening. "If they discover our charade, they will rape and kill both of us. My way, we both have a chance of living through this."

Troy took a sharp breath, held it for a long time. The fact that he was helpless drove his anger to a dangerous pitch. He needed to do something, anything! He could feel Dietrich's eyes on him. Dietrich knew his temper, would know how close he was to striking out. At the last though, he knew it was out of his hands, for now. He glanced up at the taller man, nodded.

Dietrich returned a single quick nod of his own. He let go of Troy's shoulder with a slight squeeze then stood and removed his jacket. Troy came to his feet, took it from the German and folded it neatly over his arm. Dietrich handed his gun to Troy. Troy took it without comment, not surprised.

Mohadid came forward and handed Dietrich a knife similar to the one Rasta was mindlessly twirling. Troy frowned, knowing instinctively that Dietrich was not a knife-fighter. It would be below the captain, a dishonorable way of fighting. The rest of the group pressed in, forming a loose half-circle. Troy could see money being exchanged; it made him feel better that it seemed to be going both ways. At least some of the tribesmen were betting on Dietrich. Mohadid stepped away.

Rasta lunged so fast that Troy jumped. Dietrich was ready, dodging sideways and back to avoid the sharp knife. The two combatants circled, feeling each other out, searching for an opening, feinting. Rasta was impatient, he lunged again. Dietrich slipped away. Troy's hands clenched, aching for a weapon. Rasta attacked a third time and Dietrich met him, grabbing the man's knife hand, smashing it down across his thigh. But Rasta spun, breaking Dietrich's hold, forcing the captain to roll away from the deadly blade. They circled.

Dietrich moved, feinting left and swinging in with his right hand. Rasta ducked back, swinging the knife. The captain leapt back, dropped and rolled toward Rasta, trying to catch his legs. The Arab was more agile than his size would have hinted at. He slid backwards, then came forward as Dietrich rolled to his feet. Dietrich grabbed his knife hand, forcing it back, his own hand stopped by Rasta's other hand. They stood, almost unmoving as first one then the other tried to shove into an advantage. With a hard effort, Dietrich freed himself, swinging wide to gain room.

Sweat dripped off both men, ran into their eyes. Dietrich swiped across his face, and Rasta came in low. Dietrich jumped sideways and rolled, coming up behind the man. He got his arm around the man's throat and his knife started in toward his opponent's chest. Troy held his breath, seeing Dietrich's victory as the knife glittered down.

Something went wrong. So fast that Troy almost missed it, Rasta fell backward, landing on Dietrich hard enough to take his breath. Two knives flashed in the bright sun. Troy froze. Rasta's weapon came up, Dietrich's blood dripping from it to the ripped up sand. The knife started down toward Dietrich's chest.

Troy lunged, hitting Rasta with all his weight, grabbing him and rolling them far enough away to gain his feet and put himself between the Arab and Dietrich. He stood with his feet braced, Dietrich's gun in his hand, aimed at Rasta.

"Hold it!" He ordered. His words might be foreign but his intent was obvious. "Captain?"

"You... can't do...." Dietrich panted behind him.

"Shut up!" Troy demanded. "You tell them I will kill the next person who tries to harm either of us." There was silence behind him. "Dietrich! Tell them!"

In halting breaths, Dietrich spoke several sentences. Troy never took his eyes off Rasta. The man was staring at him with a combination of pure hatred and violence-stirred lust. Troy met both emotions with a cold stare. He took a step backward toward Dietrich; Rasta took a step after him. The gun in Troy's hand came up a little.

A sharp command cut through the frozen tableau. Troy watched Rasta straighten, his anger becoming more pronounced. He whirled toward Mohadid and started to argue. The Arab chieftain held up one hand and the protest died on the bigger man's lips. Mohadid turned to the other tribal members, spoke at length. Several members of the circled group nodded, a few did not. At last Mohadid turned back to where Troy was still crouched protectively in front of Dietrich. He smiled at Troy.

"He says... that we... are more than... master and slave." Dietrich translated softly, having to stop every few words. "Only two... who are... more, would risk death... for each other."

Still not turning away from the others, Troy asked, "What now?"

Dietrich repeated the query. Mohadid gestured toward Rasta. "We will be... left alone." Dietrich said breathlessly. "A man can... claim a slave... but not a mate."

Rasta continued to glare, but gradually the others moved away. Finally, only Mohadid and Rasta stood in front of him. Rasta took on step toward Troy and Mohadid barked a single word. The Arab glared at Troy, then tossed the knife at his feet, spitting into the sand next to Dietrich. Mohadid regarded Troy for another minute, then stepped calmly past him to pick up the bowl that Dietrich had set down ages before. Gesturing down to Dietrich, he explained without words for Troy to tend the other man. With a shaky sigh, Troy stuck the Luger into his belt and knelt beside Dietrich.

Dietrich's eyes were closed, his breath coming in swallow gasps, his right hand pressed tight against the left side of his chest. Troy cringed; blood had already soaked the thin cotton shirt and was forming a dark pool under Dietrich's side. As he reached for the captain's wrist, someone touched Troy's arm. He jerked away, turning quickly to face Mohadid. The man pointed to Dietrich, then to the tent. Without waiting to see if Troy understood, he rose and carried the water bowl into the shaded tent.

"Captain?" Troy questioned. Pain-filled eyes flickered open and Dietrich regarded him dazedly. "I'm going to get you to the tent."

The man's eyes drifted closed but he nodded, one hand going out to help push himself up. Mohadid appeared opposite Troy, kneeling next to Dietrich. It was Troy's turn to gesture. He motioned the Arab to take Dietrich's legs while he lifted as gently as he could under the sinewy shoulders. Dietrich gasped once and then went limp in their hands.



A slight shifting was the only indication Troy had that Dietrich was conscious. He came to his knees, sliding closer to the captain. It took a long minute but finally Dietrich focused on him. For a minute there was only confusion. Dietrich started to raise a hand to his chest.

"Easy," Troy cautioned.

Slipping his hand under the man's head, Troy raised him to the cool water. The officer drank nearly the entire bowl, which made Troy smile tightly. As he started to move away, Dietrich caught the long, flowing white sleeve of the caftan he was wearing. He squinted at Troy.

"Mohadid gave it to me," Troy explained. "My clothes were covered with blood."

Dietrich gestured around him, to the mat he was on and the simple lean-to that offered them shade. Troy nodded. "Yeah, this stuff too. He also left some hashish for the pain and bandages soaked in some kind of herbs."

"They work... surprisingly well," Dietrich whispered, finding his voice.

Troy didn't comment, leaning over the German, checking the bandage. Only the knowledge that Dietrich was watching him with a clearing gaze keep him from frowning. The wound was deep, just under Dietrich's ribs. It had stopped bleeding but the captain had lost a lot of blood and even now his breathing was fast and swallow. Troy didn't think it had hit his lung but he was not a medic.

"My men..." Dietrich said softly. "They will... be here by... sundown."

"It's only noon, Captain," Troy explained. "I'll be gone before they get here."

Dietrich's dark eyes narrowed though not with pain, with anger. "You do not... need to feel... that last night... obligates you to... stay..."

A barely stifled gasp cut him off. Troy laid a hand on his shoulder, glaring back despite his comforting touch. "Look at me, Captain, and tell me you wouldn't have stayed with me even before last night?"

Flinching away from the thought, Dietrich closed his eyes. "We are enemies, Sergeant."

Troy snorted quietly. "Yeah, and if it wouldn't kill you, I'd have you in a POW camp so fast your head would spin."

"Perhaps that would... be best," Dietrich said very quietly.

Blinking in confusion, Troy leaned closer. "What? A prisoner of..."

"To die," Dietrich said with a sigh from the bottom of his soul.

Troy took a sharp breath, startled by the German's unexpected depression. He thought of David, wondering if he ever felt that way. The idea scared him. More roughly than he intended, he grabbed Dietrich by the shoulders, shaking him.

"You're a goddamned idiot!" he snapped.

If it was possible, Dietrich grew even more pale, lips tightening with pain. Troy's hands immediately loosened. "Look, Dietrich, I don't know if it will ever get any easier for you and David. But I do know that after this war is over Germany is going to need men like you, honest and honorable leaders."

Dietrich's eyes drifted closed. "And so... we have... only duty to live for...."

"Isn't that all we've ever had?" Troy said, sliding into a rare contemplative mood. "The army, our men, our countries, what else is there?"

The dark gaze connected with him again, still serious and thoughtful but with a hint of the old fire that had kept the German alive despite some of Troy's better efforts. "Is your... brother as stubborn as you, Sergeant?"

"Yeah," Troy said with a grin. "Maybe even more."

"I find... that hard to ... believe," Dietrich said, his eyes closing again.

Once again Troy raised him to the water, though Dietrich didn't take as much as before. With gentle moves Troy wiped the pale face down with a soaked cloth. He could see the pain that Dietrich was trying to hide. "Don't fight it, Captain."

One brown eye opened to glare at him. "Wouldn't you?"

The left side of Troy's mouth lifted slightly. "Probably. Though after last night it seems kind of silly."

The tall German had no response, dropping back into a light doze. Troy sighed, shaking his head at the divisions of war, and the destiny that frequently overrode it. He settled back, wiping Dietrich's face again.



The light was starting to fade into night and worry was starting to etch along Troy's nerves. The expected patrol could not be that far off. He needed to leave. Dietrich had come to again and Troy had forced him to take several long pulls on the hash pipe. The pain had faded from the lean face and sleep had claimed the captain. The German was starting to stir again, moaning softly. Troy was relieved. He wanted to give Dietrich more water before he left, in case the unit was late.

"Still here, Sergeant?" Dietrich questioned.

Troy frowned at the weakness in the normally resonant voice. "Just on my way," he said.

Sliding his hand into the thick brown hair, he once more inclined Dietrich toward the water. Dietrich took only a few swallows before pushing Troy's hand away. Not happy, Troy let it drop for the moment.

Leaning over, Troy checked the bandage, found the white cloth still dry. It seemed the sleep had done the German some good; his breathing was better and there was a hint of color in his cheeks. Troy knew he had done all he could. Dietrich was awake; there was no reason to stay. Realizing his hand was still supporting Dietrich's head, he once more held up the water.

"Come on, Captain, just a couple more."

With a look of exaggerated patience, Dietrich swallowed nearly half the canteen. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah," Troy said with a smile.

"You had... better go," Dietrich advised.

Troy stood, started toward Dietrich's re-marked American jeep. He didn't even consider telling Dietrich that he wasn't going far, only as far as a safe place to watch the oasis. He had no intention of leaving the injured man alone in the desert, even if help was supposedly on the way. He took a step, turned back and knelt next to the captain again. It didn't feel right just to leave, not to say or do something more. He uncapped the canteen, leaned it against Dietrich's good side, within easy reach. Dietrich watched his moves with a slight smile. With a final glance, Troy started off again, only to halt a few feet away.

"Damnit!" He said sharply.

Coming back, he flopped down next to Dietrich. The officer regarded him with confusion. Troy picked up a handful of sand and tossed it angrily down at his feet. "Captain, would your men let me go if you told them to?"

Dietrich considered the question, knowing what Troy was really asking. "I owe you... my life...."

"And I owe you mine," Troy interrupted. "So, where does that leave us?"

The brown eyes regarded him for a moment with the sorrow that Troy could now see too easily. "With duty."

Understanding the answer, Troy nodded. "Okay."

Once more, he wiped Dietrich's face. "Dietrich?" The rich brown eyes met his again and Troy smiled. "Try to stay alive until this is over. I'll introduce you to my brother."

Dietrich squinted one eye shut and glared at him with the other. "Is that... a threat, Sergeant? One of ... you is quite... enough."

Troy ran the back of his fingers along Dietrich's temple. This time when he made it to his feet, he didn't look back. Minutes later he gunned the reclaimed jeep to the top of the nearest ridge. Hiding the jeep he went back the hundred or so yards and stretched out on the rough rocks. If the column didn't arrive in a couple of hours, he would go back.

Forty minutes later Troy watched through the German binoculars as the medic knelt beside Dietrich. He stared as the man started a blood line into Dietrich's arm. Just as he went to lower the field glasses, the medic moved away, leaving him a clear view of Dietrich. The captain appeared to be searching the horizon and even though Troy knew it was his imagination, Dietrich's dark eyes seemed to find him, to met his gaze. A tingle that he refused to think about shot through his nerves. The medic came back, breaking the spell.

"No, Captain," Troy promised, "you're not going to be a sacrifice, even if I have to shoot you to get you to a POW camp. One day, I am going to stand with you as a friend." With a smile, he added, "And I will introduce you to my brother."

THE END

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