“Oh, wow,” breathed the other man. He looked at the handsome young officer sitting on his bed but shook his head, “That’s some offer, but I think the last thing you need right now is some revenge sex. Ask me again in a couple of months if you’re still interested.”
Kent couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. “I am so sorry, Nguyen, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I am just a mess at the moment.”
“Believe me I’m not offended, but I wouldn’t make that offer to anyone else if I were you! Not everyone is as principled as I am. I suggest an hour in the gym with a punching bag, followed by several fast games of racquetball, would do you more good right now than anything else.”
Kent sighed. “You’re probably right.” He got to his feet and looked at the other man, held out his hand to him, and said seriously. “Thank you! You’ve been very decent to me, but I’d better go.”
Nguyen shook his hand and released the privacy seal to open the door. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”
Kent thought he might as well follow Nguyen’s advice and headed for the gym. The vigorous exercise did help somewhat, he admitted, heading toward the racquetball court, until he caught sight of the Captain stripped down to a pair of shorts, on the other side of the gym bench-pressing weights. He must have seen the Captain undressed before, but he had never paid attention as he was doing now, checking out the well-muscled, compact body, the solid thighs and smooth brown skin. His black hair was just long enough to need flicking out of his eyes and his mouth was tight as he strained to raise the weights as high as he could.
Feeling like a glutton for punishment, Kent strolled over with false casualness to get a closer look. Matthews caught sight of him approaching a minute later and faltered with the weights, struggling to get the bar back in the slot. God, Richard was beautiful, broad shoulders, long legs, skin and muscles glistening after his workout, his blue shorts riding low on his hips. His mouth went dry. Richard made a show of looking at the weight he was using, smiled condescendingly as he realised he could lift heavier and turned on his heel and walked out, unintentionally giving Matthews a view of his perfect tight backside. He was unaware of the Captain’s eyes following him all the way to the door.
As soon as he was outside, the false bravado fell away and he leant against the wall. He couldn’t take this any more—the pain was just too great. He showered and dressed and then went in search of Simenson before he could change his mind, the irony so bitter he wanted to laugh.
“Rule 158. You’ll have to transfer me under Rule 158 because I’m causing a dangerous tension!”
“You!” Simenson was astounded.
“Yes, me. Sim, where have you been living lately? I’m sure everybody else knows the Captain picked me up after the Harper affair, and has since dropped me like a stone for Private Hardy. And... and I just can’t take it. I have to get out of here while I can still function as an officer.”
“Leave? But you’ve been on the Kalar your whole career!” Simenson was still struggling to come to terms with the news.
“I know. I don’t want to leave, God knows how much I want to stay, but I’m not responsible for what I’m doing any more. I’ve got to go or I’ll be sent. Sometimes I think I could kill him with my bare hands!”
“Kill who?” demanded Simenson urgently.
“Never mind. Just get me out of here before I lose it!” Kent was pacing furiously up and down.
“What does Luke think about all this?” ventured the Medical Officer.
“Frankly, I think he’ll be glad to see me go! You know the crew’s actually on my side over this.”
“That doesn’t sound good. I hope you’re not deliberately turning men against the Captain?”
“No, I haven’t sunk that low yet. I’ve even tried to tell myself he has the right to treat me however he likes. My reason might be able to accept that but my feelings certainly can’t!” He paused. “So, will you do the necessary things for my transfer?”
“If everything is as you say, I have no right to stop you.”
Kent heaved a sigh of relief and tried to relax as Simenson moved reluctantly in search of the form. It was an old fashioned hard copy, requiring actual signatures. About ten minutes later, Simenson handed him the partly completed document. “All it needs now is Captain Matthews’ signature. If for some reason he doesn’t give it, bring it back here and I’ll sign it as Chief Medical Officer.”
The Lieutenant nodded his thanks and left the room, slipping the form inside his uniform jacket. Now he had to find the Captain.
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