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Alex ''Rigger'' Roberts and Jim ''Rock'' South are starting to build a solid life together, even as hard as that is for a Marine and a flight nurse. They have pizza, beer, a dog, and lots and lots of communication in bed.
The only thing Rock doesn't really communicate well about is his family or his past. Rig thinks that's a little strange, as close as he is to his own tight-knit, loving family, and he sets out to pry a few details out of his studly Marine.
When a death in Rock's family has them leaving North Carolina for New England, Rig gets more than he bargained for. There's bad blood there, and when things boil over, Rig has Rock's back, deciding that his Marine is better off without a family like that.
Things aren't exactly smooth for Rig's family, either, and a family tragedy leaves him wondering if life will ever be the same. Rig tries to deal with is problems on his own, like he always has, but Rock proves to him soon enough that it's better to have someone there to pick up the pieces.
Sean Michael gives us a true slice of Jarheads life in Personal Leave, a hot and moving tale of two men who laugh, love and live together. Take some time to yourself and read it today!
Excerpt:
Rock unfolded himself out of Decker's fucking tiny Honda and shouldered his bag. He waved Decker and his wife off.
"Enjoy your downtime, Sarge," Decker called out.
"You, too."
Rock shook his head and chuckled. Damn, but the kids were getting younger every year. And he was getting so these training missions were a pain in the ass. He was spoiled was what he was, fed three of the best squares a day he'd ever eaten by the sexiest fucker alive who had an ass with his name stamped all over it.
He headed up the front walk, grinning as he heard Grim, Rigger's huge mutt, barking his fool head off. He was in for a tongue bath. Of course the dog wasn't the one he wanted it from.
He swung his bag around as he opened the door, letting Grim jump on that instead of him. "Go on, you act like I've been gone for months instead of two weeks." Chuckling, he scratched Grimmy behind the ears. "Silly mutt."
Grimmy barked and whined, pushing right into his hands. He could hear the music coming from the kitchen, hear the washing machine rattling along and a deep Southern drawl cussing something.
He wandered in, found long, long, long legs in skin-tight jeans sticking out from under the kitchen sink. His cock went hard at the sight -- two weeks was a long time when a man was missing the best blowjobs the world had to offer.
He crouched down next to the sink, hand reaching out to touch the flat belly. "Problems?"
The tight muscles jerked, a dull clunk and a "shit" floating out into the kitchen. Then Rig started sliding out, a little, blond mustache appearing before bright grey eyes. "Hey, Blue!"
He shook his head, grinning as he reached out to slide a finger along the lip fur -- that was new. "Hey, Rig. You got a welcome home for me?"
Those amazing, fucking lips wrapped around the tip of his finger, the suction immediate and just fine.
Rock groaned, muscles going tight. "Oh, fuck, yes." Christ, he'd missed this, missed Rig. He held those grey eyes, letting Rig know. Rig's teeth scraped along the pad of his finger, the nerves there lighting up and echoing in his prick. He growled a little, earning them Grimmy's attention. He pushed the dog away with his free hand. "Yours isn't the tongue I'm interested in, mutt."
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