(Thank you Treborrobbo for editing my story)

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*Fire lights our Nights; Fire in the Soul ignites our Lives*

(In the story one main character will change how they think of another, alternating from he, she, or even it. This is due to their perspective changing.)

(The 167th aka The Sacred Band, is a mythical transgender specialized helicopter unit in US Army)

From the time I was in Middle School all I wanted to be was an Army Ranger. Not Special Forces, Delta Force, or a Navy SEAL -- a Ranger. That is why I am sitting on top of this mountain, less than a kilometer from a so-called neutral border getting ready to die. We've been tracking insurgents all along the border for weeks now and they set a trap we've walked into.

Now, if some cock-sucker would get off his ass and order in artillery and airstrikes over the border, I could slip out of here, but he's got his dick in his hand worrying about causing some kind of international incident. Instead I'm being told to 'hang in there' and help is on the way, but I know that is a lie.

Our relief force tried to punch their way to us a few hours ago and was stopped cold by the fire from across the border. I've got six men wounded now and it is only me and Specialist Dobson who are fully mobile. When dark comes in an hour, we won't be able to call in the artillery that is the only reason we are still alive, and then we get killed or captured.

I'm checking ammo when the call comes in.

"Ranger 337, this is Sierra Tango Eight, prepare for evac in three minutes," says this oddly passive voice. I'm Ranger 337 so I take some quick looks around to see what the hell is going on.

"Sierra Tango Eight, what is your vector?" I ask. "And where do you plan to land?"

"Vector: due west and there is a flat piece of rock ten meters from your designated position. We are landing there," the voice responds. I look over at the postage stamp sized area. WTF?

"We'll be ready," I say, because this is really the only option I have. I shout for Dobson to get ready for us to roll, the second something happens.

"Sierra Tango Eight be warned there is very heavy fire all around the area. Very Heavy Fire," I warn them.

"Understood," is the reply. Even as the link goes silent the mountainside begins exploding all around me. I duck down then I recognize the sound of the shells -- smoke. Dobson and I gather all the non-mobile wounded as close as we can to the landing zone and wait. It doesn't take long. I hear the helicopter storming up the valley and everything breaks loose.

I see an attack helicopter riding hell for leather straight up the valley just north of my position. Tracers lance all around it and the bird dances and shifts. I have only enough time to see the puff from over the border before spotting the SAM, then it hits the helicopter and it explodes into pieces. They didn't have a chance and I am feeling totally fucked.

The transport is on us before I hear it. The pilot whips over our heads, does a quick two-seventy and settles onto the small piece of rock. Two people jump out, one aiming to the back of the helicopter and firing a SAW, while the other one runs my way.

"Let's not hang around," the short newcomer yells over the whine of the engine.

He, Dobson, and I grab up our worse wounded and we drag, stagger and tumble our way to the craft. The guy with the SAW jumps on last and pulls me close.

"Is that everybody?" he shouts. I nod. He relays that message over his headset. The helicopter rocks off the stone they'd been sitting on and starts to slip off the mountain.

And I mean 'slip' because it doesn't feel like we're flying down the mountain slope; so much as we were falling down the mountain. I swear I feel us bounce off of rocks several times on our way down to the desert floor, as well as having the pleasure of dozens of bullets buzz by. Only when we flatten out do I feel like we are actually going to live. I go up to the pilot to thank him.

"Hey there," I begin, putting my hand on the Sergeant piloting us, "thanks for the save. Who are you guys with?"

"167th", the pilot says in an even tone. I pull my hand back. It is the fucking faggots. I don't consider myself to be a bigot, but some things are just not right and if you were born a man you were a man and the same went for women.

If the pilot notices he gives no indication.

"We are taking you straight to the hospital Sergeant. No worries," the pilot tells me. I say nothing for the longest time. I am uncomfortable as hell being so close to so many fucking perverts still ...

"That helicopter, the one that was destroyed, was that part of the plan to get us out?" I ask.

"Not the destroyed part, but yes, someone had to draw fire so we could get in and get you out," the pilot responds with no emotion. Man, all I can think is how cold these people are.

"Who were they?" I inquire.

"Lt. Clyde McDermott and Sgt. Rihanna Clarke; Lt. McDermott was our flight leader," he tells me.

"Oh," is all I can imagine saying. It isn't like that guy hadn't known the risks. The thing was, despite seeing that helicopter die, this pilot had come to my rescue anyway. That was totally fucked up.

"Thanks," I repeat somewhat lamely. Honestly I want off the helicopter as soon as possible.

"Never Fail," the pilot responds; the motto of the 167th.

Several hours later I come out of the medical center, when I see the four members of our rescue helicopter standing around their bird. My first instinct is to walk away but then everyone else seems to be avoiding them too. I sigh and decide to do my civic duty. I walk over. They are all wearing their helmets when I go over, undoubtedly listening to their unit chatter.

"Sergeant," the pilot greets me, his eyes unreadable behind the darkened visor. Now I can see that he has tits and they are apparently a nice, silicon rack.

"No one died. Everyone got back in time," I grudgingly tell him/her/whatever it is.

"That's good to know, thank you," the pilot says. I look at his/her name tag, then I notice he has some of the fullest lips I've ever seen, with rich creamy dark skin.

"Gleason?" I ask. "You don't look like a Gleason."

"Dad was in Panama and married a Panamanian woman," Gleason explains. "You?"

"Huh?" I wonder.

"Your name?" Gleason grins slightly as he puts a hand on his hip.

"Grizzoli, Ted Grizzoli," I reply somewhat embarrassed. It is strange to think that this is a guy.

"Well Sgt. Ted Grizzoli, you are welcome." With that I get the feeling I've been dismissed. Then I feel stupid. They lost two friends today keeping my friends alive. They are grieving. I'm not sure why, but I pull a photo out of my vest, step up and hand it to Gleason.

He looks at it then at me. I wish he didn't have his visor down because I really wish I could read his expression.

"My daughters," I explain as he looks down at my five and two year old girls. "I get to go home to them because of what you did today." It is lame but it is all I've got. Gleason nods and puts it away in his vest. We are done here.

(Two years later)

I'm in some East African hell hole because another country has gone down the crapper and the UN wants to do something about it. There is a bit of an insurgency problem so they sent us. Still, our plan seems to be working so we all see the mission winding down here in a month or two. Everyone is biding their time.

I'm crossing the compound with my company commander Bruce Isakson. Now Captain Isakson is all about initiative and innovation. He's a bit of a pirate if you ask me. Still, I'm with him when we collide with Major Hayes, our battalion Intelligence Officer, and Captain Fallon of the 167th combat wing stationed with us. Fallon, who is a girl who looks like a guy now, is really pissed.

"Major Hayes, some of my people got shot and stabbed in a marketplace in the southeastern part of the city. I need some of your people to help me get them out," Fallon begins without preamble.

"Whoa," Hayes says, "we are not going to start a firefight in the middle of a crowded city over a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? Sir, they've been violently and physically assaulted. Their lives are in danger," Fallon responds with barely contained rage.

"It must be a religious misunderstanding due to the condition of your people. I'll call the Chief of Police and let him go in and disarm everyone and bring your people out," Hayes tells Fallon.

"Disarm? To the native police who can't even guarantee my people's protection now? The Sacred Band does not give up its weapons," Fallon growls.

"They will this time," Hayes announces. Fallon stares at him. "I'll deal with this through the proper channels," Hayes says dismissively. Fallon salutes and leaves. Whatever business has brought the Captain and me this way vanishes.

We catch up with Fallon half way across base, storming about like nobody's business.

"Fallon," the Captain calls out. "What are you planning to do?" Fallon stops and stares at us.

"Arm the ground crews, go in and get them," Fallon admits.

"How about my Rangers and I go out on a little training mission instead?" Isakson says with a maniac gleam in his eye. Fallon regards him intently then nods.

"Let's go in ten minutes. I'll gather what intelligence I can," Fallon answers. Once more the 167th officer goes his way and the Captain and I go ours.

"Sergeant, if you want to bail out on this I'll understand. Of all people you can't really claim ignorance," Isakson tells me.

"It is a training mission Sir, what could possibly go wrong?" I grin back. Right then I am feeling like a pirate too.

The plan was very basic and risky, but it is what elite light infantry are made for. We have three teams. The Captain would drop at the farthest street corner, and work his way back to the shop the targets were held up in. I would drop into the closer street corner, and hold that until the evacuation began. The third team would rope onto he top of the building and secure it from the top down.

Once that was done, we would collapse in to the building and take everyone off the roof until we were all gone. We had no idea on enemy strength, but since it was a civilian area we had to follow the rules of engagement -- no firing unless fired upon. If we ran into trouble we were pretty screwed; no one was on deck to come to our rescue.

When I climb into my helicopter I notice Gleason right off the bat. I reach up and touch him on the shoulder.

"Funny seeing you here," I say haughtily. Gleason turns slightly and nods. With that we take off and wing it over the city. I could swear I saw Hayes running out and waving his fist at us.

We come racing over to our target, and as we swing around Gleason waves for my attention. We are setting up our repelling gear so I make it quickly over to him.

"I can land in there," he tells me. I think he is insane but I nod. Dangling off a rope sucks.

"If you are sure," I gulp. I tell the guys to put the ropes down. We are going in boots first.

Honestly I think we are going to die on the way down. The buildings look so close I feel I can touch them, right up until we hit the hard-packed earth. Without urging from me, my men race out into the whirling dust storm whipped up by the rotors. Behind me Gleason edges right back up into the sky.

I make sure we have the four corners covered, and then race to the storefront where the friendlies are hiding. I am glad they don't come rushing out to meet us. That would be a nightmare. They open the door when I arrive, men and women looking at me with pretty grim faces. The mob here wouldn't just have killed them; they would have done much worse.

"Who is in charge here?" I bark.

"I am," a tall, athletic black woman-looking person with a pistol addresses me. "Lieutenant Teresa Ross."

"Okay, we are going to hold the perimeter. Your group is going to be escorted to the roof and evacuated," I detail the plan for her.

"No," she says calmly.

"No?" I stammer.

"We won't leave you behind," the lieutenant insists. I lose it.

"Lady, are you insane? I'm a Ranger; this is what I do. You fly helicopters and you aren't in one right now, so get your ass moving!"

She has the gall to smile at me. I am afraid I might hit a superior officer, when the Captain shows up. I outline the problem and he shrugs.

"Lieutenant, you will evacuate your wounded immediately, then choose two to stay behind for the last boat out of town -- acceptable?" he offers. The female officer agrees.

"Sir," I grumble to the Captain, "can you believe that crap?"

"Sergeant, elite is not only training, it is believing you are elite. In case you missed it, these twelve aviators beat off a mob of hundreds, with two pistols, an undoubtedly captured rifle, and wooden clubs. If they want to stay in my LZ to the bitter end, so be it."

I have no answer to that. Fortunately I don't have the time to hang around and look at their battered and bloody bodies. I have my men to attend to. The mob is getting frisky and a few shots go overhead as I make my way back to my team. Finally someone does the stupid thing of bouncing a bullet off one of my guy's helmets. We begin firing back.

The mob scatters, and the armed attackers have to stand their ground or go flee with them. Those who stick around we put bullets in. Like so much of combat, things go very, very fast or very, very slow. One second I've got fire coming from three directions and the next the Captain is telling me that the evacuation has begun and I'm to pull back.

There was no last stand at the Alamo. Once the locals see that we are pulling out; most of them decided to let us go. The diehards aren't enough to give us many problems. I climb aboard the last helicopter with the Captain, the hard-ass lieutenant and a few others. I look over and there is my Gleason.

"Home Gleason," I can't stop myself from saying. The Captain gives me a funny look but I shrug it off. Gleason's response is more subdued but then he was doing the flying. Getting home isn't too much fun though. Hayes blows a gasket. We were all going to get it, from the Captain to the lowliest Private.

He was somewhere in the middle of his tirade when the General walks in. Both the UN and the local authorities have already given him an earful. He doesn't say much. It turns out he didn't have to.

"Were some of my people in harm's way?" he asks the Major.

"Yes sir, but ..." the Major sputters.

"And your plan was to turn them over to the local authorities?" the General persists.

"Sir, we had to consider the UN Mandate," the Major answers.

"So your response was to let twelve of my people get slaughtered to appease locals and the UN?" the General growls.

"Sir, I was operating within our guidelines," the Major defends himself.

"Is that what they taught you at West Point, major?" the General snarls. "I don't think so. The Ranger patch is not a stepping stone to future advancement, it is a mindset. We take care of our own."

"They weren't Rangers," the Major blurts out.

"No Major, they are not. They rely on us to defend them so that they can save our asses when our asses need saving. We defend them and, major, you failed at that. Dismissed," the General barks. He turns to the 167th officer.

"Captain Fallon, if you need anything you know who to ask." Fallon salutes and exits.

Now the General turns his baleful gaze on me, the Captain, and the Ranger Lieutenant who had been on the third team.

"Don't go looking for any commendations on this one, damn you," he grumbles. "This was a damn foolish thing to do. Now get out of here." As we make to leave the old man adds, "Rangers lead the way." Quietly the three of us echo his sentiments.

(Present Day)

It has been a long deployment and I'm heading home to the West Coast on leave. My flight is one more in a long stretch of air miles I've put up in the past year, and I'm getting used to the fact that I am going to be safely in one place for a month. I find my gaze wandering over the passengers, because it seems forever since I've seen a woman in something besides battle dress.

Across the aisle and up one seat is a cute chick in a long plaid, pleated shirt and white blouse. She has shoulder length black hair and seems to be rocking out to her MP-3 player, which means she was probably too young for me. The waitress on the other hand is giving me some play, but I never seem to find the time to sneak off with her.

At the terminal I'm fighting for a cab when I bump into someone coming for the same ride. I'm about to tell them off, when I notice it is the cute girl from the plane. She has sunglasses on now but smiles at me.

"Share a ride?" I offer.

"Sure thing," she responds. "Where are you going?"

"North Lake," I tell her. "You?"

"Somerset," she replies. She has a pretty face with fine Hispanic features and full lips. We tell the cabbie where to go and are riding for about five minutes, when I snap my head round to her.

"Gleason!" I gasp. She smiles and nods.

"You ..." I continue.

"I look like a girl; is that what you are trying to say?" she grins devilishly.

"I guess you do," I mutter.

"Flight suits don't do much for my feminine side," Gleason laughs. "When I get off base I like to express myself," she informs me.

"I dress like I did in high school," I admit.

"Me too," she laughs. I can't help but be weirded out by all of this. I was hot for a guy. Worse, I was hot for a guy I'd gone to battle with and she was sexy. What am I thinking?

"Why weren't your wife and kids at the airport to meet you?" Gleason asks. Somehow I get the feeling she senses my awkwardness. The question doesn't help much.

"She took the kids to her folks in Missouri," I inform her. "We've been separated for over a year now."

"Sorry," Gleason responds warily. She'd meant well.

"Don't worry about it," I smile. "Deployments are hard on any marriage. I guess she had enough of me being gone for months at a time. I'm not bitter."

"That's a good attitude. You've always been a good soldier who takes care of his own. You are good at what you do," she responds.

"Not as good as you Gleason ..."

"Angel; Ted, call me Angel," she smirks.

"Fine, Angel, you are the best pilot I've ever seen. If you weren't, I'd be dead twice over," I praise her. Angel looks away and blushes

"Thank you for saying that," she murmurs.

"What about your family?" I ask.

"Mom and Dad live in Somerset. Dad is former Army who put in his twenty-five. Mom raised the five of us," she said wistfully.

"Five? Damn that's a good size family," I tease her. She looks a little sad.

"My oldest brother died in the Middle East while in the Marines. I'm the second oldest... so I joined up too. My oldest sister went to college and works somewhere in Atlanta. My younger sister is married in town and my youngest brother is still in high school," she tells me.

"Sorry about your brother; that's tough. Still, I imagine your parents are proud of you. The 167th is a hell of a unit," I counter.

"No, my parents don't know what I do. I told them I got a job as a personal assistant that requires me to travel a lot," Angel confesses.

"Why did you do that?" I say bewildered.

"Mom would freak out all the time knowing I was in the Army, and Dad never got used to me being different. He keeps hoping I'll change, and I don't stand up to that belief," she sighs.

"Anything I can do Sergeant?" I offer.

"No, we are good," she tells me. I sat silently in the cab for most of the ride. Once we pull into my street something occurs to me.

"Angel, you can take a cab, but would you like it if I drove you to your house?" and even as I speak those words, I am not sure why I do. She looks at me with obvious curiosity.

"Sure," she says as we stop in front of my house. We unload our luggage, I pay the driver and we go up to my house. It isn't much; a little two-bedroom bungalow with a hot tub in back. Putting my stuff in the living room, we go out to the garage and pull the cover off my convertible. Angel whistles.

"My dad gave her to me before he died. I have a neighbor come by once a month and take care of her for me," I say patting my beautiful baby on the hood.

"Your car is a 'her'?" Gleason teases me. She does that thing where she plants a hand on her hip and tilts, so provocatively. The thing is, I don't think she even realizes what she's doing. I have to remind myself that Angel is a guy.

"What are you thinking about?" Angel taunts suggestively. I haven't answered her.

"Yes, I call my car a girl," I mumble.

"Is that all that's on your mind," Angel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," I deny, "I'm good." I pop the trunk and we put her luggage in. Within a minute we are rolling down the road to Somerset.

We are cruising down the road, top down when Angel looks over to me and raises her sunglasses, so I can see her sparking brown eyes.

"It is okay," she says in a conversational tone. "You can look at me if you like." I nearly wreck.

"No ... wait ... I'm not like that," I respond hastily. Angel grins and lets her eyes wonder forward. No way am I gay.

"If I was a girl," she asks after a while, "what would you like about me?"

"You have beautiful lips," I admit after a moment. Now that I've admitted it, this doesn't seem so hard. Angel smiles at me.

"I have really nice legs too," she offers, letting the wind play and pull at her skirt.

"I haven't noticed," I lie.

"Of course," she laughs. At least she doesn't call me a liar to my face. "By the way, the answer is 'no'."

"No?" I question.

"No, I'm not seeing somebody," she says in a lilting voice. "You are the type of guy that matters too; you don't poach on another man's territory."

"I never asked you that," I respond. "You are a guy and I'm not gay."

"Okay," is all she says in response. I hope I sounded convincing.

We pull up in front of Angel's place. I feel I can steel her for the visit.

"I'll help you with your bags," I offer.

"You don't have to," she replies. "We can leave them for later, unless that is a problem."

"It is no problem," I tell her. We leave her bags for later and we climb up the steps to her family's place, hands free.

Angel knocks on the door and a matronly Hispanic woman answers. She looks at Angel, her eyes dart to me, then latch back onto Angel.

"Angelo!" she cries out and hugs Angel to her bosom.

"Hey Momma," Angel says somewhat awkwardly, then Mrs. Gleason notices me.

It is clear Angel's mother doesn't know what to make of this stranger.

"Hey, I'm Ted Grizzoli. Angelo and I are co-workers," I explain. She looks relieved and we shake hands. The three of us migrate into the family's living area, where a man who looks a bit like me, but twenty years older and twenty-five pounds heavier, gets up out of his chair and looks at the three of us.

"Angelo," he says evenly to his 'son', but his eyes rivet me. I know his type and I'm not afraid.

"This is Angelo's co-worker, Ted," Angel's mother introduces me.

Mr. Gleason comes toward me, so I meet him half way. We shake hands and he promptly tries to break my fingers in his grip. As I said, I know the type so I'm ready for him.

"Where'd you do your service son?" Mr. Gleason asks me. He must know my type too.

"I'm still in the Rangers," I grin. He chuckles.

"Armored Cavalry," he responds and we share that veteran's grin. "So how do you know my son?" At this moment I recall that I can't lie for crap.

There are a lot of things I could try to say, but any sergeant worth his stripes would know I'm lying without a thought.

"Why doesn't Angelo tell you about it?" I evade. I look over to Angel to see the conflict in her eyes.

"He's my boyfriend!" Angel blurts out. I'm suddenly wishing I was back on that mountain top being shot at by people I really don't like, as opposed to here. Dad glares at me, Mom makes a little gasp and tries to see me in a new light, and Angel/Gleason sidles up to me and puts her arm through my arm.

"Is that true?" the Dad asks me with a penetrating glance.

"It is just like Angel says," I choke out. Dad studies me carefully for what feels like an hour, and then gives a curt nod.

"Take a seat," he half commands, half offers. Angel and I take a seat, while the mother hovers around.

"If you are still in the Rangers how did you meet my son?" Dad asks again.

"Your son is in the 167th," I answer. Her Dad studies her, nods and says,

"I'm proud of you Angelo. You've done something with your life." Angel's grip on my arm tightens. She's never told her family about what she does and I've thrown that in the open now.

"What is the 167th?" he Mom inquires.

"They are a Special Forces unit of helicopter," the old man explains. Mom doesn't look pleased.

"Angelo, this is dangerous. You should stop this," she pleads. Angel's older brother died in service to his country.

"Momma, I'm really good at this and I save lives. I've trained really hard to be in the 167th, and it is my home now," Angel tries to explain.

"Esmeralda, we haven't always accepted Angelo's choices, but we should accept this one," the Father declares. In this family, this seems to be the end of the argument for now.

An hour later we are walking down the stairs to my car. Once I let Angel in and am around on the driver's side she hits me.

"Fuck you," she shouts. "You told them about my service."

"You said I was your boyfriend. What was I supposed to say? I found you under a rock?" I snap back. She has no immediate response to that.

"Now Momma is going to be worried forever," Angel gripes.

"And lying to her is so much better?" I shoot back.

"You didn't have the right," she insists.

"I agree, but I wasn't going to lie to your Father for your benefit. It isn't in me," I tell her.

I drive on unthinking and more than a bit pissed, when I find myself rolling into my driveway. I cut off the engine and we sit in silence for a minute.

"What are you going to do now?" I inquire.

"I guess I'll call my Sister and see if I can stay with her and her husband," Angel says dejectedly.

I know I'm going to regret this.

"You can crash in my kid's bedroom for a few days," I suggest off-handedly. Angel looks me over with inquisitive eyes.

"Are you sure it isn't going to be a problem Ted?" she asks.

"We are Army buddies," I answer. "We should be fine. Now, why don't we unload your stuff and go grocery shopping. I know there is nothing to eat in the house."

"Logistics is the heart of any operation," Angel agrees. Having a place to stay for a few days has taken a great weight off her shoulders. When we are back on the road I have to ask.

"Were you going to spend your leave at a hotel?"

"Well, Mom and Dad can only keep me around so many days before we clash, and I am not sure how my brother-in-law would accept me," she admits.

"Fine," I allow, "but you do your own laundry and if you borrow the car you put gas in it."

"Thanks Ted," Angel smiles. She's an Army buddy. She's a hot looking guy but I'm not gay.

Shopping goes somewhat haphazardly. Let's face it, neither Angel nor I have had to look after ourselves for some time now. In the Army if you want food someone cooks it for you, if you want toilet paper it is there for you, and if you want cleaning supplies you get them.

In civilian life you have to take care of all that yourself, or in the case of Angel, ourselves. We quickly pile up a shopping cart, and still have to carry some things to the checkout. The girl at the cash register makes a crack about us not wanting to come out for a month, mistaking us for a couple. Angel giggles. What the hell? How does a guy giggle?

On the way back, Angel has me stop by a Quickie Mart, but for the life of me I can't think of what we've forgotten. On the way back Angel keeps giving me a smile as the wind whips through her hair.

"What are you smiling about?" I inquire.

"You are a good friend Ted. I appreciate what you're doing for me," Angel responds.

"No problem," I agree. "You've certainly been there for me."

"That was my job Ted," Angel counters.

"I think you once said I was good at taking care of my people," I joke. "Consider yourself one of my people."

"One of the guys?" Angel teases me.

"Of course," I cough.

"You won't regret this," she promises. I'm not sure what she means by that, and I'm definitely not sure why it makes me feel so uncomfortable.

We've gotten the car unloaded and things put away when we go to our rooms and finally change into 'around the house' clothes. I'm in a sleeveless grey t-shirt, grey sweat pants, and flip flops. I'm not really thinking about it until Angel comes out in a tight green t-shirt that highlights her gorgeous breasts and tight black drawstring short shorts. She's has no shoes on but clearly has a cock bulging in her pants. Angel notices me staring.

"Ted? Earth to Ted; would you feel better if I pulled it out and showed it to you?" she chuckles.

"What? NO! I'm okay," I express loudly as I look away. She comes into the kitchen and starts making some lemonade for us. Again we don't say much for a while, and I find myself in a strange state of being.

Sometimes Angel is like a guy; we talk about the same things, if in clipped tones. She'll prop herself up like she's a guy and her voice will deepen slightly. Then I turn and look at her and she's a girl, with that hidden quality to her face that only a woman has, and the way she turns and looks at me that highlights her cleavage.

I'm starting to be really uncomfortable when I find myself watching Angel walking into the den with some carrot sticks and blue cheese dressing. That's a nice, tight, well-sculpted ass that looks like more than a handful. I wonder why I haven't noticed it before, but then I guess because I'm not gay ... but damn, what an ass. Worse, right as she sits down she gives me a wink. How the hell did she know?

Our dinner decision is a cookout, with chicken and pork chops with some salad. Angel and I are going on about sports teams where I reveal her to be a uninformed idiot and she declares that I'm a brain-dead moron who thinks with his dick. We are laughing it up so I push it a bit further.

"At least I know what a dick is used for," I taunt her. She gets this glimmer in her eye.

"I know what your dick can be used for too," she teases right back. I glare for a moment then I laugh as well. "That's it," she smiles, "don't be so uptight. I'm not the enemy."

"I don't think you are the enemy Angel," I respond.

"Didn't you once?" she questions.

"I... I thought you were... a pervert," I confess. "I don't anymore," I go on to assure her.

"I know," she nods, then of all things she leans in and kisses me right on the lips. I don't know what to think or say. You would think that she would be uncertain too, but she looks totally confident with what she's done.

"Listen Angel, we are just friends," I warn her. I tolerate Angel, but that doesn't mean I think the ways she does and she needs to know it.

"Of course," she says pleasantly, before picking up cooked meat and going inside. God damn her and her swaying hips. If only she was a real girl.

We don't talk about the kiss most of the night and Angel behaves in a friendly, but not too friendly manner. She and I talk to about ten, when the jet lag starts kicking in on both of us.

"How long has it been for you?" she asks. I give her a look over.

"Sixteen months," I tell her, "since the last time my wife and I fought then made up. It was a long damn time ago. What about you?"

"Four years," she sighs.

"What the fuck? Four years ago? I thought..." I ask with real curiosity.

"The Sacred Band isn't a harem," she smiles. "Sure, some of us seek companionship, but most of us know we are in a combat unit, and we need to keep our heads and hearts on straight."

"I apologize," I respond. "I guess not everything you hear is true."

"No biggie; I've been a good girl since I graduated Flight School," she tells me. "Before then I was really bad though."

"Really?"

"Yes, I used to suck cock all the time. God I love a good, hard cock in my mouth," she moans. I am getting all worked up thinking about those luscious lips of hers wrapping around a cock and going up and down.

"Did you wife like to give you head?" she asked.

"Not really," I confess. "We were married right out of high school. She was the only woman I've ever been with."

"Damn you are a loyal little bastard," she says with some admiration. "No one has ever cared for me that much."

"It will happen Angel; give it time," I encourage her.

"Thanks Ted," she yawns. "I think I'm going to bed now." She gets up and goes to the bathroom, while I dump the dishes in the sink and run some water over them. I'll get to it in the morning.

One of the less pleasant parts of military life is that you tend to wake up early, so when you are on leave, your body still wants to wake up early. My eyes open up and I see the dark grey of morning starting to come through. I also see Angel come into the doorway. We meet eyes for a second then she walks up to the edge of my bed.

"Can we talk?" Angel asks me. I prop myself up on my elbows.

"Sure," I respond. Angel sits down close to me and looks perplexed.

"I have a problem Ted," she begins. She looks up and explains. "I want to have sex with you but I don't know how to ask you." What the crap... she's just asked.

"Angel you've told me and I can tell you it isn't going to happen. I'm not gay," I console her.

"Okay, I understand that, but can I suck your cock instead," Angel smiles softly.

"Ah... no," I reply.

"Come on Ted; it only has to be this one time. I really want to," Angel pleads, but with a seductive tint. I'm pretty sure I'm sending her back to bed -- her bed -- when she licks her lips.

Okay, I'm not gay, but I figure if all she wants to do is suck my cock once, I can get through this with my heterosexuality intact.

"Fine, this one time," I concede. I pull the covers back and move over so she can join me. Angel's eyes sparkle and her face lights up as she strips off her shorts and shirt and joins me.

Angle moves to kiss me but my dubious look stops her. Her hand runs down my chest to my stomach and she tugs at my shorts. I see the problem, so I reach down and work them off so that we are both now naked. She shrugs and turns her body down so that she is facing my cock. I'm already rising to the occasion when she starts blowing on it gently.

She wraps a hand around my cock and starts stroking it until it is sufficiently large enough for her to start licking the top of my head while pumping me with her hand. God damn, she's a whole lot better than my wife. I roll my head back and find myself staring straight into her crotch and her dick. It is semi-flaccid and bouncing with her movements.

I'm staring at it for I don't know how long, when I catch Angel looking up at me while she sucks on my top quarter like a lollipop. I look from her eyes to her cock and back to her eyes which are clearly defying me to do anything. Fuck you bitch! I reach out and put my hand around her cock and start to stroke it. Angle groans. Damn it, I'm not gay... I'm stroking another person's cock but I'm not gay.

Angel goes back to licking the tip of my cock, occasionally running her tongue around the circumference of my head. Now, I am not an idiot. I know a tutorial when I see it. As if giving me incentive, Angel suddenly swallows most of my cock in one mighty plunge. Feeling my head rub down the back of her throat is indescribable. She pulls up and smiles at me. Bitch.

I've shot a guy aiming an RPG at me; I've rappelled into a firefight, and stitched up a buddy with his guts shot out, so I should be able to do this. How bad can it be? I lick Angel's cockhead once, briefly and quickly. Angel moans like I've licked her cunt. I give it a few more passes and she responds with more vigor on my cock. I take the plunge and wrap my lips around her head, then suck lightly.

Angel is now rock hard in my hands, and mirroring her, I'm sucking up and down about two inches of her length, while stroking the rest with my hand. Occasionally Angel has to stop working on me to catch her breath.

"No stamina heli-babe?" I taunt her.

"Tease me all you want," she gasps, "but don't stop." She does step up her game though. She starts playing with my nuts, first rolling them around in her hands, then going down and sucking on each of them, one at a time. I'm willing to play with her balls, but I'm not up to sucking them. That doesn't deter her though. She takes up a finger and sucks on it.

Angel sneaks her hand down and puts it up against my anus. I tense up and Angel relaxes her pressure and waits until I relax again. Well, what is fair is fair, so I ready a finger and put it down between her cheeks as well. Angel is totally relaxed when I get there, and I have little trouble getting a fingertip in. Angel jumps.

"Does that hurt?" I ask her.

"Yes," she pleads, "but don't stop. Please don't stop." I push harder and her ass trembles. She's moaning non-stop now and really giving my cock a workout. Finally I let her press a finger into my ass. Damn that hurts but I swear it makes my cock harder as well.

With my finger going in and out of her ass and me sucking as much of her cock as possible, Angel starts to lose it.

"I'm cumming," she pants. Oh crap, what am I supposed to do? Somehow having her spray it all over my body and face is really unappealing. For some strange reason, swallowing her seed appears the best course of action.

I make my best effort to get her off quickly and I can feel her tensing up. The first burst hits the back of my throat and I nearly gag.

"Don't swallow!" Angel gasps. What the fuck am I supposed to so now with a mouth full of cum? Angel spasms several more times, before she pulls her mouth off my cock, and yanks me to her.

Angel grabs my shoulders and presses her mouth against mine. I feel her tongue trying to work its way into mine, so I let it and a mouthful of cum comes along with it. We swap fluids for several seconds, before Angel accepts most of her own sperm and swallows it. Angel looks like she's about to have a second orgasm as she looks at me with ecstatic eyes.

"Angel," I begin.

"Oh yeah," she says excitedly then dives back to my cock. She's going at it with gusto and I feel my own body temperature rising. I find myself casually stroking Angel's cock once more, and getting some reaction both with her cock and in her ministrations.

I reach down and stroke Angel's fine black hair.

"I'm about to come," I warn her between deepening breaths. She nods slightly and keeps at it. I feel like I rocket off in her mouth, and I half expect my semen to knock her back. Like a pro Angel keeps at it, gulping down rope after rope of my seed.

She props herself up and looks at me expectantly, her cheeks distended with my semen. Oh, what the hell. I pull Angel close and we kiss again, my cum gets swapped back and forth until once more she pulls away and gulps down most of it. Angle presses against me and kisses me on the throat and shoulder. I stroke her back and let my hand wander down to her ass.

"Angel we are never going to do this again," I inform her. She leans back and smiles at me.

"Of course, but could you do me one more favor?" she asks passionately.

"Okay," I respond cautiously.

"Would you fuck me up the ass," she asks me in the same way a girl asks a guy to buy her ice cream at an ice cream parlor. She wiggles her ass beneath my hand.

"This one time," I warn her. Angel nods in acceptance. I'm not going down the road of me not being gay. I've sucked dick and tasted cum twice and I want to fight for the shreds of my heterosexuality. I'm going to do this, get it over with, and get back to a normal life. Angle scrambles to the edge of the bed, leans over precariously and picks something out of her jumble of clothing.

She hands me a tube of lubricant and condoms. I cock an eyebrow at her. She tosses the condoms since our last blood tests would have revealed something wrong.

"Hey, I was hoping to get lucky," she confesses with a sheepish grin. She grabs my cock gently and starts stroking it. "Let me take care of this," and she pushes me back and goes back to my cock. Any hope of me not being able to perform again so quickly, is dispelled by Angel's lips and tongue.

Angel bumps her ass in my direction. I open the lube and put some at the top of Angel's ass crack. I let it ooze down and Angel shudders. I put some on my finger and press against her anus and let it slip inside, getting an even more violent reaction from her. I pull my finger out, put lube all over it and reinsert it.

"Yes," Angel moans. I start working it all the way in then going in and out rapidly. I'm getting really hard now so I don't know how much longer before we are going to go at it.

"More fingers," she pants. "Use more fingers." I pull out, lube up four fingers, and go at it with two this time. Angel yelps, but I'm getting the hang of this now so I go at it slowly and steadily instead of pulling.

When I get the third finger in successfully, and am moving in and out in a steady rhythm, she stops sucking.

"Let's do this; I'm ready," she gulps. I push her onto all fours, ass angled up.

"Put your hands up against the headboard," I order her. Angel looks at me with uncertainty but obeys.

I lube up my cock generously because I'm looking at the size of Angel's expanded anal opening, and my cock and the physics isn't working out well for her. I push against her entrance.

"Take it easy," she says. I press a little harder, until I push through her immediate resistance. Angel grunts and I push harder.

"Easy," she repeats. I ignore her, stick it to her even harder and she cries out. "God Ted!" I'm now pushing all the way in and Angel's whole body starts shivering.

"You wanted to get fucked so be prepared to be fucked Angel. Do you have anything else you want to say?" I tell her in a menacing voice. Angel shakes her head.

I'm slamming her against the headboards with vicious, savage thrusts. Angel is crying and howling from the assault. I slap her ass a few times until it reddens, then I reach around and grab her cock in one hand and grasp a breast in the other. I'm jacking her off while twisting and pulling on her nipple.

Finally Angel mumbles something between he sobs.

"What did you say?" I growl to her.

"Harder," she repeats. I let go over her cock and grab both breasts, pulling on them and pinching them. Angel leaves one hand to stop her from hitting the headboard, and takes the other one down to start stroking her penis.

"Angel," I whisper to her, "I'm not fucking you hard enough. Get up on your hands and knees." She groans but does as instructed. I wedge my knees between her legs, grab hold of her arms at the elbows and pull her up until she's in my lap. I've got her bouncing up and down on my thighs and we are both fighting for breath.

I'm stroking one breast and stroking her cock with the other hand, while Angel is playing with her balls and mine while caressing the other breast. I'm so deep into feeling my cock drive up Angel's ass, that I miss her orgasm when it hits and her semen splashes my hand. My thrusts increase with intensity while she goes through her climax.

"I want to fuck you harder," I snarl into her ear. Angel's head bobs.

"Roll me over," she wheezes. I push her forward, take her thigh and roll Angel onto her back. She looks at me in a daze but manages to start raising her legs up. This I know what to do. I grab her ankles and put then on my shoulders.

Angel's head rocks back and forth as I bend her in two. I grab my cock and put it up against her now-gaping ass and push it back in. Angel groans but then surprises me by thrusting up to meet my intrusion. When I drill her deep she cries out again. She moans when I pull out, then cries when I slam back in, but she keeps meeting my thrusts. The whole sensation of her cries, scents, and beauty becomes too much and I shoot my cum deep into her bowels.

I roll to the side and Angel rolls to stay next to me, facing me. Neither one of us says anything for the longest time as we become sticky with our sweat and semen, not until our breathing calms down.

"Well, you certainly fucked me hard Ted. What got into you?" Angel murmurs happily.

"I'm not an idiot Angel. You've been working on me since we got to town. I'm not gay damn it," I tell her. She reaches out and strokes my cheek.

"Ted, you sucked my cock, swapped cum with me twice, and fucked me up the ass; you are not straight," Angel sighs patiently.

"I'm not gay," I persist.

"Ted, no one has turned you gay. That is not possible. You've been living with a mindset at odds with your nature. Besides, you may only be attracted to me, or only transsexuals," she smiles. "But, if you think I've done something wrong to you I'll go."

I stare at Angel for a few minutes and I can see uncertainty creeping into her eyes. She does not doubt herself; she doubts me. My first instinct is to get the hell away from this freak. The only problem is that Angel isn't a freak anymore; she's a person with a person's interests, loves and families. If she's not a freak then are any of them?

Then if she's not a freak what am I? Crap. I'm not heterosexual. I still love my wife. I probably always will but now I have Angel in my life. Funny how that worked out isn't it?

"Angel, how long have you been... decided that you wanted to be with me?" I ask. Angel blushes.

"When you gave me that picture I knew you weren't the man you pretended to be. I thought what you did was a nice gesture," she responds. "In Africa you trusted me to put you down in that alley, and that said much about your judgment and courage, but it was when you said 'Home Gleason' when we took off that made me want see you again."

"That? I was joking around," I chuckle.

"Exactly Ted. I knew how you felt about me, or how you thought you felt about me, but there you were, with bullets flying all around and I was the one you were thinking of," she points out. Well crap.

"Once I learned your wife left you I decided to give us a shot. After that it was pretty easy," she relates. "We had the same hometown, so I arranged to have leave when you took leave, and be on the same flight. I had to wait seven minutes so we could end up in the same cab too."

"If you ever give up the desire to fly, I'm sure someone could use you as an operations officer," I reply bitterly.

"I was happy you had a car," she continues slyly, "and the whole thing with my parents was totally off the cuff. In a way I wanted my father to approve of you."

"Weren't you worried I'd reject you?" I counter.

"No," she replies confidently. "You've got great taste in friends; you are loyal, honest and true, if somewhat confused by a few minor things."

"Like wanting to have sex with you," I respond.

"Hell no," Angel laughs. "Face it, I'm hot and if it wasn't for my dick you would have been all over me on the plane ride here. I knew you wanted me. All I had to do was make you realize that."

"So what am I confused about?" I wonder.

"The fact that you want to be with me; I knew I could seduce you, but Ted, I want to keep you," she confesses. How the hell does a guy respond to that? I push Angel on her back, lower my mouth to a nipple and start twirling it with my tongue.

"What does this mean?" Angel inquires. I lift my mouth long enough for a reply.

"I'm thinking about it." I work on her nipple for about half a minute, then the other, before Angel starts writhing on the bed and moans something.

"What did you say?" I question.

"Keep thinking," she sighs. I shift myself so that I'm resting between Angel's legs with her cock resting between us. I play with her nipples until she starts humping me. After a bit I work my body up until we are face to face. I kiss her deeply on those gorgeous lips.

"Stay the month and let's see how things work out," I offer.

"I'll take that," Angel accepts. Why shouldn't she? She's gotten everything else she's wanted so far. She rolls us over. "Ted, I have a problem."

"What is it?" I say lazily.

"You said I could only suck your cock once, but I've already done it twice, so what does that mean for us?" she smirks.

"Do you want to suck my cock again? Do you want me to have sex with you?" I scold her.

"Yes on both counts," she pouts, "though my ass still hurts, so I'd like to wait a while on that."

"I don't know," I murmur as I grab an ass cheek in each hand and squeeze, "it is damn luscious."

"Maybe I was safer leaving you sexually confused," she chuckles.

"How about we take a shower and get some breakfast?" I suggest. Angel presses up and smiles at me.

"I don't quite want to let you up, but I am a mess," Angel admits. "Care to join me?"

I follow her, remembering the last time my wife and I did this. It was a score of years ago.

In the shower we find the desire to eat, overcomes the desire to run hands over each other's bodies. I get dressed first and am in the kitchen figuring out which cereal to eat today, when Angel comes up and gives me a deep French kiss.

"Good morning Ted," she says nonchalantly.

I swat her ass. Angel turns and looks highly offended while she rubs her sore butt. I move up behind her, wrap my arms around her stomach and nuzzle her neck in the form of an apology, just like I used to do with my wife.

"Thanks Ted," she purrs as she wraps her arms over mine.

"What for?" I inquire.

"You'll figure it out," she sighs with contentment. I don't know what to think of that. All I'm doing is a little bit of domestic comfort... oh.

To Angel; hands of a surgeon and heart of a lion.