Sergeant Bull : Part 9

They were both so consumed by the near violence of their fucking, neither heard the car pull up or the sound of front door opening. The secret of what they’d been doing for a month ended with the scrape of booted feet in the hallway right outside Oscar’s bedroom.

With his cock buried to the balls in Oscar’s ass, Bull looked quickly up. There, at the open door, stood Ramon.

Frigid silence replaced the burning cacophony in Oscar’s bedroom. At first, Bull wasn’t sure what to say, or if the younger of the two brothers pinned beneath him was aware of the invasion until he felt Oscar tense. A panicked “Oh, fuck, no-!” escaped his lips. “Ramon, shit – oh, shit!”

Dressed in his full police uniform except for his tie, the older De La Santos brother studied the action taking place on Oscar’s bed with a scowl on his hard, handsome face. Bull shot the digital clock on the bedside table a quick look to see it was barely past nine. “What are you doing home so early?” he stuttered before he could stop himself. “Left early,” Ramon huffed. His deep, dark eyes shifted from Bull’s to Oscar’s. “Been feeling sort of anxious lately.”

Oscar turned away and collapsed beneath Bull’s weight. “Ramon, I can explain, bro,” he attempted. Ramon stood unmoving at the door, one hand on the frame overhead, the thumb of the other tucked into his gun belt. “Yeah, I figured you had an explanation about this Army dude, and that it wasn’t just something friendly.” He locked eyes with Bull, whose bone still burned up Oscar’s shithole. Bull readied to pull out, but the older De La Santos brother growled, “Keep going.”

Bull shook his head, scattering drops of sweat down on the rigid back beneath him. “What-?”

“I said keep fucking. I didn’t come home to break this up.”

As Bull watched in disbelief, Ramon stepped into the room and over to the bed. He reached down, unzipping the fly of his police uniform pants. A quick fumble in his pants unmasked his half-hard, uncut beaut of a cock into clear view mere inches from Bull’s face. “Keep going, Sarge. And while you’re at it, why don’t you show me some respect and suck this dick a’mine.”

Bull licked his lips, but hesitated a moment longer before following through on Ramon’s demand. His confusion was made worse by Oscar’s protest.

“No, not Ramon-!” the younger brother pleaded. “Please, Bull – don’t do this if you love me, dude!”

Bull looked down to see the desperate, wounded look on Oscar’s handsome face. Genuine pain filled his eyes.

He’ll get over it, the voice in Bull’s head interjected. Make it clean before you really end up hurting him. You can’t stay here and be happy forever.

Bull drew in a deep breath, felt his cock stretch inside the younger brother’s asshole, then leaned forward. The bittersweet taste of uncut cock exploded across his tongue. Oscar turned away and swore into the pillow. Bull up-tempoed his thrusts. With one hand fumbling Ramon’s sweaty cop’s balls and his mouth clamped to the older brother’s moist foreskin, he knew he’d set in motion a division that would only widen, and never be undone. “Yeah,” Ramon moaned. He reached down and played with Bull’s nuts. “I knew you two wasn’t just buddies from the service. I knew what the score was with you. I could smell it on you. The sperm. For weeks, I swear I could smell it on you.”

The musky taste of Ramon’s cock quickly grew heavy with a trace of precome. Ramon’s load was saltier than his younger brother’s. Bull savored it, knowing it would sour on his lips before the night was over.

“Been jerking off for weeks thinking about what’s been going on here when I wasn’t home:” Bull slurped harder and faster before stopping to lick the sweat off the older brother’s nuts. Looking so handsome and horned-out in his crisp black police uniform, Ramon – like Bull – temporarily seemed to ignore Oscar, who continued taking the Sergeant’s cock up his ass without moving or speaking. He was still sucking Ramon’s nuts when the older brother grunted something loudly in Spanish. A geyser of hot come splattered Bull’s cheek.

He quickly gobbled up the last of Ramon’s juice, shoved into Oscar’s ass, and as the itch in his nuts became a burn, he pumped off what he suspected would be the last load he’d ever shoot up the young Marine’s hole.

Before he’d even finished, Oscar shoved him aside with a show of impressive strength. “Get the fuck off me,” he snapped.

Ramon stood stroking the root of his spent cock and stepped to one side, allowing his brother an exit from the room. Bull buried his face into the pillows that smelled of Oscar, more numb than embarrassed or stoked. He listened briefly to the sound of clothes being pulled on in haste, the clink of car keys, the slamming of the front door. Oscar’s jeep pulled out of the driveway in a hail of sand and pebbles. In its wake, a tenebrous silence settled over the cottage. Bull felt the mattress sag to his left. He glanced over to see Ramon in the place Oscar had previously occupied. He stroked openly on his reawakened cock, forcing its dark pink head to bob up and out of its sock of foreskin with a wet sucking sound.

“Thanks, dude,” the older brother said. “I really fuckin’ needed some head.” Bull didn’t address the praise. Ramon’s smoldering, four-alarm grin widened. “You up to giving me another go?”

Bull licked his lips. For a second, he almost complied, but the guilt of what he’d done to Oscar wouldn’t permit him to follow through. “No.”

Rising from the bed, he pulled one of the two saddlebags containing everything he’d brought with him cross country to San Diego and fished out a pair of fatigues, socks, and clean boxer briefs. While Ramon sat jacking himself a yard away on Oscar’s bed, Bull dressed. When that was done, he shoved all of his stuff into the bag, clean clothes with the dirty.

“You think what we did was wrong,” Ramon asked, his voice broken with puffs for air as his next blast of load came closer to shooting.

Bull glanced over to see fresh precome dribbling from the glistening folds of the older brother’s foreskin. He nodded. “Yeah, it was wrong. But it was also the right thing to do.”

He slung the bags over his shoulder, fished out the keys to his Harley, and headed toward the door. The sight of Ramon stopped him in place a second longer.

“Come on, dude,” the policeman urged. “Finish me off. Suck this cock!”

Bull wanted to, but the thought of Oscar out there pissed off and hurt in ways Bull never intended wouldn’t allow it. Saying nothing, he walked out of the beach house and into the warm night.

He stowed and secured his gear, then gunned the engine, driving away from the house and what had happened there as fast as the traffic signs allowed.

Dear Oscar,

I wish I could tell you what knowing you has meant to me. I wish I could put into words how sorry I am for what I did, or explain why I did it. Best to leave it that you’re better off free of the shit I’d end up dumping on your life if I had stayed with you and not been such a total prick to you with Ramon. But I think – no, I know – you are the finest human being I’ve ever met and you deserve to be with somebody who knows how to respect a treasure like you.

Forgive me if you can. If not, I understand. I won’t forgive myself, ever.

Bull

It took him a week and almost five hundred miles to write the letter. Somewhere in New Mexico, he ripped it up and tossed the slivers to the side of the road. North Carolina was still too far away to think about anything so distracting as losing both his estranged son and the one true love of his life.

Home, Bull thought.

It was time to go home.