Meanwhile, Matthews was quite unaware of the disastrous effects his rejection had had on his lieutenant. Indeed he had scarcely seen him since. His own desperate attempts to get over him had been singularly lacking in success. Hardy had done his best, he had slept with him the first night, but it had soon dawned on him that Hardy’s best was nowhere near as exciting as Kent’s slightest caress or attention. He realised he had been attracted by Kent himself as much as his body. Unfairly, he made continual comparisons and wondered whether he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he told Kent to go. Perhaps he couldn’t give Kent up.
Could he ask him back? If he did, he would have to get right down from his dignity and beg him. Instantly, Matthews shied away from the idea, he couldn’t bear to lose face before him. Underneath this reaction was a fear, so suppressed it was unconscious, that if he ever dropped the control on his feelings toward Kent, Kent would dominate him. And he desperately wanted Kent’s admiration and respect.
The Lieutenant went in search of the Captain as soon as he left Simenson. He knew he was scheduled to be off duty and checked the gym and the common room before going to his quarters. Giving himself no time to reconsider, he flashed his ID at the door and entered. It was the first time they had been face to face since Matthews had dumped him and he was sourly gratified to see the other man step back involuntarily. “What do you want, Lieutenant?”
Kent wondered what would happen if he said, “You.” But he didn’t. “I want to hand you my official request for a transfer, sir, and ask that you confirm it.”
Matthews blinked as the ground fell away from beneath him and reached out to steady himself. “Uh? What?”
“My transfer, sir, you need to sign it,” Kent proffered the form, more than half hoping the Captain would dash it to the ground.
“Your reason?”
“Uh... personal reasons, sir, related to Rule 158,” Kent almost drawled the words.
Matthews’ face was a mask, what could he do? Afterwards he could never decide what made him do as he did, whether he was trying to make Kent go or stay, but he took the form, wrote on it calmly and gave it back.
Whatever the Captain had intended, it acted on Kent like a slap in the face. Instantly he was furiously, boilingly angry, he wanted to humiliate Matthews and hurt him and hurt him. His voice was dangerously calm. “Am I dismissed, sir?”
Oblivious of Kent’s rage, the Captain nodded briskly and turned away. In one quick motion, the Lieutenant stepped forward and wrenched Matthews’ right arm up behind his back, exerting enough pressure to break it if he resisted. Gradually he forced him down until the Captain was on his knees in front of him, almost before he had realised what was happening. Finally he found his voice. “What on Earth do you think you are doing?”
The other man considered. “Assaulting you!”
“Richard, just think a minute. You won’t get off this time. Assaulting a ship’s captain is not assault, it’s mutiny!”
In his present mood, the Lieutenant couldn’t have cared less. He simply stared down at him then lowered his head, his lips curved in an almost cruel smile. For the first time Matthews understood what he was going to do, fear raced through him and he leapt desperately at his only protection. “Stop this at once, that’s an order!”
Kent dropped his mouth on his and cut him off. Matthews closed his lips angrily and Kent backed off. With calm deliberation he slapped him twice across the face, then kissed him again, using his teeth to hurt. Matthew’s anger turned to desperation—he couldn’t bear for Richard to punish him with sex, he wanted him to love him, not hate him. This might even be enough to break him, something that nothing had ever managed to do before.
With his free hand, Kent wrenched the Captain’s uniform open to the waist. He rested his fingers lightly on his throat as he kissed him again then slid them down to his bare stomach, the very sensitivity of the caress a mockery. He took his mouth away for a moment to ask abruptly, “Did you sleep with Hardy? Did you?”
Kent saw instantly in his eyes that he had. “Did he do this to you, did he?” he asked savagely and thrust his own hand between the Captain’s thighs and grabbed him, right through his uniform.
Matthews bit his lip. How he had longed—ached—for Kent to arouse him, but not with hate. He felt himself responding and squirmed with humiliation. He shut his eyes, he couldn’t take much more.
“It seems like perhaps you aren’t over me after all, or is it the violence that excites you?”
Suddenly Matthews couldn’t bear the sneering any longer, he started to shake uncontrollably.
“Stop that, do you hear, stop that!” Kent demanded angrily, but the Captain couldn’t. To his surprise, Kent let him go and he fell straight to the floor. He stayed there a minute getting his breath back, then struggled awkwardly to his feet. Kent came toward him again and he panicked. He lashed out wildly as if his years of training had never existed. His fist connected with Kent’s stomach before the other man grabbed his wrists and pushed him back against the wall.
Kent began to force his hands down to his sides and it became a battle of strength. Matthews was strong, but Kent had wrists and muscles like whipcord, and was gradually, inch by inch overpowering him. Kent kept his eyes on his face, watching the Captain gradually realise he was helpless. Swallowing what was left of his pride, Matthews pleaded.
“Don’t touch me again. Please Richard. I can’t take any more.” This from Matthews, a man who had won medals for courage!
“Please, Richard.”
“And if I let you go?” asked Kent in an odd voice.
“I’ll forget all about this and let you transfer without any trouble. I promise!” he looked desperately at his tormenter.
Kent smiled. Matthews started to relax. And then Kent hit him across the mouth, “Coward!”
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