Stinger

Ben Van Sant closed the briefcase full of cash. The locks snapping closed echoed in the large, dimly lit warehouse. Behind the darkened lenses, one could see the twinkle of his eyes; his smile quirked the razor-cut beard and moustache around sensuous lips.

“It’s always a pleasure working with you, Colonel Saleh. If you need anything else to put down your rebel uprising, please give me a call.”

The darkly handsome military man grinned and put up a hand. “We prefer to call it a 'local agitation', but thank you for your most kind offer.” He put a hand into his pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch and handed it to the arms dealer. “This is a small token of my appreciation for your unparalleled weaponry selection and excellent customer service. Please accept this with my gratitude.”

Ben upended the pouch and several large uncut diamonds tumbled into his palm. Even with the gradient sunglasses shadowing his eyes, one could tell he was flabbergasted.

“I’m … speechless with your generosity, Colonel. Thank you.”

“A trifle. Have your men finished loading the equipment onto the ship?”

Van Sant nodded. “It was completed two hours ago and your people are now on board minding the cargo. The Heliopolis will set out in three hours and by next week, the Stinger missiles will be in the hands of your army.”

* * *

Benjamin Van Sant, arms dealer, assassin and ex-Army Ranger, had first met Colonel Yusef Saleh in the aftermath of the Enduring Freedom campaign. Court-martialed for being caught in flagrante delicto with his superior officer, the sniper had found himself in the demimonde of the military world and used his in-country contacts and skills to broker an arms shipment for a military coup.

Saleh had thrown a celebration for the defeat of his enemies and invited the young ex-soldier to attend. After the party, the two found themselves alone in the small palace.

“I find you … bold, cunning and quite intriguing, Captain. Thank you for your assistance.” Yusef put his hands on the broad shoulders and stared hungrily into the pale blue eyes. His hands slowly traveled down the powerful arms and then rested on the trim waist. He licked his lips.


“I also find you handsome as hell.”

Van Sant grinned. “The feeling is mutual, Sir.” The ex-soldier grasped a handful of thick black hair and pulled Saleh’s lips to his in a brutal kiss. Hands traveled down the Arab’s broad back and cupped the muscled ass as Ben drew the two of them together. They broke apart only when they needed to draw breath.

Saleh panted. “Shall we continue the celebration in a more … private … manner, Captain?”

“Of course, Sir ... I look forward to getting those legs on my shoulders ...”

Van Sant gave the other man a lusty grin as the two entered a lavish bedroom. Ben slowly undressed the colonel and then proceeded to remove his own clothes. After a particularly deep kiss, he pushed the naked Saleh onto the bed and arranged the muscular, dark legs onto his broad shoulders.

Ben shoved the head of his manhood past Saleh's sphincter and slowly into his canal. Saleh moaned softly as the ex-soldier entered him. Van Sant was talented, pushing all the way in to the balls, then slowly removing himself but leaving just the knob inside.

Meanwhile, the colonel could feel the head and veins of the younger man's member deep inside him. He felt the heat Van Sant gave off - searing the flesh deep within his ass. Saleh felt the turgid member scrape against his prostate, making him hard as a rock himself. The Arab lay there staring hungrily into the wanton, azure eyes above him - feeling Ben's hips pull back slowly, then again easing his massive tool deep into his waiting chute. He was in heaven. The colonel enjoyed being treated by a talented man on how to use his power to subdue and pleasure both himself and his partner.

Now the ex-soldier started to get into his rhythm and now picked up the pace. Van Sant began to pull all the way out and then back in to the hilt. Saleh felt him speed up a little more and soon he was slamming into his hungry ass with a fury. Ben could tell the man beneath him loved the feel of his friction and fast pace.

Suddenly, the former Army Ranger pushed all the way in and held himself there. Saleh felt a huge volley of warm cum shoot deep inside his guts. This was followed by a second blast, then a third, fourth, fifth and finally, a sixth load shot deep inside him. The colonel began to feel it dribble down his canal and start to leak out. Ben lay deep inside him, letting his twitching cock subside. Still hard, he pulled out and the colonel felt a gush of warm cum slide back and down his cheeks before draining on the bed. Ben whispered huskily in his ear that his had been the best ass he had ever had and he was looking forward to regular breeding sessions.

Ben pulled the colonel to his feet and swung him around so their positions were reversed. He then lay down on the coverlet, pulling his legs up and back to expose his hairless, rosy pucker. The ex-soldier grinned at the panting man at the foot of the bed, cum still dribbling out of his ass.

"Your turn, colonel ... make me scream ..."

The sex had been transcendent. Both men were insatiable and took turns penetrating and being penetrated by the other. After several long hours of ecstasy, the two lay together in the large bed.

Ben turned over on his side and began to stroke the powerfully muscled chest of his lover.

“Yusef?”

“Mmmmm?” Saleh reached over to stroke the other man’s face.

“You realize we now hold a knife at each other’s throat? I’ve already been convicted of raping my commander and without the protection of the Army, I could be killed. If your predilections became public, the religious police would kill you too.”

Yusef turned over and leaned on his elbow. “Well, we shall have to make sure that our private lives remain private, no?” He again began stroking the young ex-soldier’s face.

A finger gently caressed Van Sant's throat. “And if the slightest whiff of scandal would ever arise, I would have you tracked down and decapitated in the blink of an eye.”

* * *

The quiet of the tableau was interrupted by a pair of Ben’s men dragging a young patrolman into the meeting room.

“We found him skulking outside, boss - what do you want us to do with him?”

Van Sant looked at the officer. He was about 5’11” tall, with short black hair and deep, deep blue eyes. He had the faintest shadow on his square jaw and his tanned skin looked like velvet. Ben involuntarily moistened his lips when his eyes traveled over the strongly muscled physique and thick bulge in the breeches. High black boots gleamed softly in the overhead lights and hugged the long and powerful legs. The young man was struggling to free himself, but the grip of the two henchmen was too strong.

Van Sant pulled a black H&K P7 from the shoulder holster and pistol-whipped the captive man. The officer’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow and a purpling bruise began to stain the side of his chiseled face.

“Take Little Boy Blue in back and get him ready for me. I’ll be there shortly.”

The two men dragged the half-conscious officer past Saleh and his bodyguard and into the adjoining room.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Van Sant grinned evilly at his lover. “You know how I like to play with my food, Colonel … don’t worry. He won’t be talking any time soon.” He looked down at his Rolex.

“You had best get to the airport, Sir … I heard the TSA lines have been particularly bad this week.”

Saleh spoke to his bodyguard in rapid-fire Arabic. He left. The two men were then alone.

The colonel stepped up to Van Sant and held his face in both hands. He covered the other’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “When will I see you, again, habibi?”

Ben nuzzled along the strong, dark jaw. He breathed in the musky spiciness of the arab, which had his cock starting to crawl down the leg of his jeans. “Two weeks. Damascus.”

"The Al-Madinah?"

Van Sant grinned and squeezed the colonel's crotch. “Where else?”

Saleh turned to leave and paused. “Do what you think best with the policeman, my love. But leave no loose ends.”

* * *

Charlie Hawke had spiraled into blackness soon after the brutal beating began. Consciousness returned to him like a reluctant lover as he felt the cool relief of an icebag pressed against his swollen face.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, kid. But you happened to be at the wrong place at a really wrong time.”

The young policeman forced open his eyes to see one of the men from the other room. He was about 6’ tall with chestnut hair cut in a severe high and tight style. A lopsided grin was surmounted by a razor cut beard and gradient sunglasses hid his eyes. Diamond studs twinkled in his ears and a septum crescent lent him a rugged and menacing air. The man in front of him wore a tight black t-shirt that looked painted onto his muscular torso and was tucked into tight, faded jeans. A jackass rig held a pistol under his left arm. A heavy gold ring with green stone winked on his hand.

Van Sant held up Charlie’s wallet. “Ordinarily, anyone who barged in on a deal wouldn't live long enough to talk about it. However, whatever shred of morals I have left just won’t let me kill someone as young as you. Even if you are a cop.”

Charlie looked up to see himself secured hand and foot to an iron framed bed. His boots had been removed and cuffs were attached to large metal cylinders that were condensed with frost. He could begin to feel the coolness of the metal seeping into his wrists; Hawke yanked hard against his restraints, but they held fast.

Van Sant followed the other’s eyes.

“Those are called ice locks. In about two hours from now, they’ll melt and you’ll be released.”

Charlie coughed. “W-why …”

Ben pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. He brushed a lock of raven-dark hair back from the officer’s forehead. Charlie pulled away.

“By that time, the arms shipment – and myself – will be outside the reach of any U.S. jurisdiction. Count yourself lucky this time, officer. I don’t give people second chances. In fact, I think you're the very first one.”

A look of sadness crossed the arms dealer’s face; his voice deep with regret. “I can remember when I was a Boy Scout like you, Charlie. I've been forced to do terrible things and then I found that I got to like doing them. I found that I got to like doing them a lot. After that, it was all downhill …”

Van Sant brushed fingertips down Hawke’s cheek. This time, the policeman's dark blue gaze looked into the sad, shadowed face of his captor and did not pull away from the gentle touch.


His voice softened. “I can still see the innocence in your eyes. Try not to lose that too quickly, Officer Hawke … it’s something you’ll never get back and you’ll be mourning its loss for a very long time.”

Charlie continued to struggle.

The arms dealer got up from the chair - he was back to business. “Your boots are under the table, and your duty belt is on top. I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your cellphone and radio – in the event you … or your superiors … were hoping for a triangulation. Cover is over there too.”

He put the wallet down next to the cap. “I also saw the picture of you and your boyfriend in there. That was the clincher as to why I decided not to kill you.”

The young officer grew still. Ben chuckled. “Kid ... I can read you like a book. If that wasn’t your boyfriend, you’d be screaming bloody murder right now. But then again, who am I to say anything to you about that? It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

Van Sant pulled on an ocean blue shirt to conceal the holster and the gun. “I hope we never meet again, Charlie. Take care of yourself.”

Ben gave the shackled policeman a casual salute as he walked to the door and left.

* * *

"That's him! That's the guy!"

Charlie had worked with the sketch artist to produce a composite of the man that held him captive. As good as his word, the locks had melted in two hours and Hawke had been freed. He reinserted the battery into the radio and called for backup.

Scott Garland - the CIA agent on the case - looked into the battered and bruised face of the young man.

"Other than 'Stingers' did you hear anything else about where he was going or what he was doing, Officer Hawke?"

Both Captain Tanner Morgan and Sergeant Jamieson Reardon were with the injured policeman in the hospital room.

Charlie shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir - but no. I got pistol-whipped pretty badly even before they started working me over. Do you know who he is?"

Garland was somber. "Uh-huh. That's Ben Van Sant. Ex-Army Ranger. Now one of the most successful and notorious arms dealers on the planet, plus assassin for hire. Someone up there really likes you, Officer Hawke. Van Sant usually doesn't leave loose ends."

His brown eyes drilled into the policeman. "Are you sure he didn't say anything else?"

Charlie swallowed. "I can't be certain, sir. But I didn't hear anything I can remember."

The CIA agent's shoulders slumped. He patted Charlie on the shoulder. "Thanks for you help in identifying him, son. Much appreciated. If you recall anything else, give me a call." He left the room.

When the door closed, the captain turned an icy gaze to the prone young man. He was literally vibrating with fury.

Morgan's voice held a deadly edge. "Hawke, I want to know why you lied to Agent Garland, and I want to know now."

Charlie stammered. "I ... I..."

Jamie trailed gentle fingers down the bruised cheek of the young officer. "I told you it was safe here, Charlie - and I meant it. Cap will protect you with his life if necessary. What really happened? Tell us. It's okay."

Hawke's blackened eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "He ... he said he just couldn't kill someone as young as me, even if I was a cop ... and ... and ... "

"And what, Charlie?" Tanner looked at him - far more compassionately than he had before.

"... and he found the picture of Mateo and me in my wallet. He said that was the clincher."

Morgan gave him a quizzical look. Hawke took a deep breath.

"Mateo's my lover, Captain Morgan."

Captain and Sergeant exchanged glances. "Van Sant's ... he's like us, sir."

Tanner stood up. "You did the right thing, Charlie. Discretion - in this case - is the better part of valor. I'm sorry I came down so hard on you, son. Get some rest and heal up."

Reardon kissed the top of the patrolman's head. "I'll be back when my watch is over, kid. You want me to call Mateo for you? I'll make sure he gets up here without any problems."

Hawke nodded. "Thanks Jamie. I appreciate it."

Charlie sank back into the bed as the two officers left the room.

* * *

I always wanted to get a kind of "sleazy soldier boy" mask and CFX with it's new lineup of realistic masks was perfect for this character. I've purchased both CFX and SPFX masks in the past and CFX has done a great job with their new hyper-realistic "Mac."

CFX masks tend to be much lighter than their SPFX counterparts, but provide the same lack of bunching and proper musculature around the neck. The only thing with these is that the bib is not as large as the other company's, which limits how far down you can unbutton a shirt; but that's not too big an issue. I can't quite describe it, but there is also a bit of 'personality' in the way the mask is sculpted. SPFX masks tend to be more of a blank slate - "Mac" has a hint of smug self-importance around him.

The character of Ben Van Sant is another story altogether. I wanted to have someone who appears to be morally bankrupt, but not completely so. The model for this type of character is hitman/assassin Roger LoCocco (William Russ) from the old "Wiseguy" series, or the traitorous Captain Joseph Korso from "Titan A.E." And to a lesser extent, Han Solo of "Star Wars" fame.

Ben - like the other complex characters I mentioned - is not a nice guy. Or is he? Originally, he was an Army Ranger sniper - trained to kill dispassionately at a distance. Add to that, he had been court-martialed for raping his commander. To top it off, he has become the lover of a mideast dictator and a supplier of weapons to Yusef Saleh and his army. The way he treats Charlie hints that he has some spark of conscience left that can move him to pity.

But deeper questions can and do arise ... like LoCocco - is he an operative under the deepest of deep covers? Or like Korso - who at the defining moment finds the strength to redeem himself? I don't know yet.

But I intend to find out.