"This can’t happen," Hunter whispered. "Not here. Not on active duty. If command found out—"
Bailey set the MRE down and turned to face him fully. In the dim red light of the tent, his eyes looked almost golden. "I’m a medic. Worrying about you is literally my job. But this?" He reached out and placed a hand over Hunter’s clenched fist. "This isn’t the job." Active Duty - Hunter and Bailey -Gay-
"You need to stop worrying about me," Hunter said, voice low. "That’s an order." "This can’t happen," Hunter whispered
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. If command found out—" Bailey set the MRE