QUI OSE GAGNE

"Who dares, wins"...an adult Captain Terry Thorne and Major Bridgid Morgan story

By Bridgid 

After all these years, she still repeated the cadence to herself when she ran.

If I die in a combat zone
Box me up and ship me home,
Pin my medals upon my chest,
Tell my mom, I've done my best!

Momma' Momma' can't you see,
Look what the Marine Corps done for me,
Momma' Momma' don't you cry,
Marine Corps motto is do or die!!

There was a mist about this morning. Humidity was already building as she started up the path to the macadam walkway that circled the park. It was three and a quarter miles around and today she was bound and determined to do it three times at a double time pace. 

What was it with these squirrels?

They didn't move when approached and it was annoying; spoiled hand fed little monsters. The runner side-stepped a dozen if she did one, nearly colliding with a brute of a man running in the opposite direction. Hmm, he was interesting. Had that thousand- mile stare just like most of the marines she knew. She dared to turn and look as he continued, bouncing forward to calculate how long it would take before they passed each other again. Nice ass.

Now let’s get on with the show.

When I die please bury me deep.
Place two m16's down at my feet.
Don't cry for me, baby, don't shed no tear.
Just don't forget to pack my pt gear.
Cuz one early morning about zero 5.

The ground is gonna rumble, there'll be lightning in the sky.
But don't you worry, don't come undone.
It's just me and Chesty Puller on a pt run.

Where's my high? Lord it usually hits by now. What's going on?

Turning onto the long straightaway she could see him rounding the far corner. He sure had it together. That man was obviously not American. The gear he wore was not typical of the PT kit of the USMC. He must be in with the guys for the joint strike drill. Brit? Aussie?

Oooo baby, there's that buzz.
Mile three and it starts to hit. Euphoria; the pain is ebbing and a flood of tingles gripped her being. It’s cooler now. Her breathing leveled off to match the rhythm of the cadence and the world was a beautiful place. One lap down, two to go.

1 mile
no good
2 miles
no good
3 miles
getting better
4 miles
breaking sweat
5 miles
breathing harder
6 miles
girl scouts

Speaking of beautiful...He's feeling it, too. She can see it in his face. Oncoming from a hundred yards away she can see the look in his eyes! His skin is glistening with a thin layer of sweat and his heavy legs are deceiving with their effortless stride.

He's closer and after one long surreal blink her nares are filled with the scent of a man who could turn her on like a Moen faucet. He must be hot in that black tank top, shit, he must be hotter out of it. Imagine kissing that mouth; soft warm lips pinching and pulling, filled with passion, his large hands stroking and groping...son of a bitch, was that sweat running down her legs?

Eyes met. The color of his was vivid; blue green rings surrounding pupils that were dilated for some reason. Exertion? Passion? What was HE thinking? Speak woman! Say something!  Dare you?

"Semper Fi..." she uttered as he passed.

"'Qui ose gagne," he returned in a voice that could be heard as well as felt: like chocolate wrapped in silk.

Two, three four steps later a runner behind her coughed a greeting. "Captain Thorne. G'day."

"G'day, Major."

Three and a quarter more miles to go; she calculated in her head how long it would be before their paths crossed again.

7 miles
boy scouts
8 miles
now we're talking
9 miles
almost there
10 miles
Marine Corps!
Ooh Rah!
Oh Yeah!

He must have finished his run. She'd completed the third circuit without seeing him again. Ah well, life goes on, it does. Slowing to a walk, she looked at her watch to check her time. Not bad, not bad at all. Her heart rate slowed quickly until she heard the voice from behind. Silk wrapped chocolate enveloped her once again.

"Morgan, is it?"

"Thorne, I presume?"

"Yes, ma'am. The one and only."

"You're quite full of yourself, sir. I like that in a fellow officer."

He could see right through her. Her statement was plain and simple but it wasn't completely honest. What she really meant to say was she'd like to be full of him. He'd seen that look before, heard that tone of voice.

"Walk with me. I need to cool down."

No, you don't. "It would be my pleasure, Thorne. I'm feeling a little humid myself." She moved alongside of him and they continued on the path for a short distance.

"You get your orders yet, ma'am?"
 
"It's Bridgid and, yes, I did. I'll be shipping out tomorrow. How 'bout you?"
 
"Next week and the name's Terry. Pleased to meet you, Bridgid. I'll be deployed next week. Where are you headed?"
 
"You know I can't tell you that." she shot him a look and their eyes met again. For a split second all thoughts but one left her mind and it was hardly honorable, in fact he caught her checking out his package.
 
"Its a shame we didn't have time to get to know each other, Bridgid. Our paths may cross again sometime."
 
"We have twenty four hours. What would you like to know about me?"
 
"Everything."
 
She looked sideways at him and chuckled. "I'll give you the major things. I'm from the north east, I'm a corps lifer and I'm a woman."
 
"The last bit is hard to miss, love. Your corps PT gear is rather skimpy. The blokes wear the same uniform eh?"
 
"Yeah, well, the CO chooses the uniform of the day but when it comes to PT gear we don't have many options."
 
They walked on the edge of the running trail for a few minutes until Terry stepped in front of her.
 
"Game for a sprint, love?"
 
"I'll beat your ass in a wind sprint," she responded with a cocky grin.
 
"I'm secure enough, love.  Ready, steady.."
 
She bolted before he finished, heading off the path up into the woods.
 
"Son of a  ..." Terry took out after her, pacing himself. He could have overtaken her easily or so he thought but he rather enjoyed the view from behind.
 
"Come on, Terry, I thought you SAS guys were elite. What's the matter? Tuckered?"
 
"I'll show you!" he growled as he caught her about the waist. She turned in his arms and they were nose to nose.
 
"I'd like to see you again."
 
She was breathing hard and it wasn't from the sprint. "You know it's not possible."
 
Their mouths met in a bruising clash of teeth and lip. He turned her and walked her backward until she was flush against a tree. It was how she'd imagined. His mouth was soft and demanding, his taste was sweet and he kissed with unbridled passion. Pinching and sucking, probing, oral perfection like a first bite of sweet lobster dripping with butter. Mmm, bring it on!
 
"What are we doing?" she gasped as the kiss broke.
 
"Making up for time we don't have, love."

"Carry on."
 
His hand slipped between her thighs and swept upward. He caressed and stroked until the material formed into the cleft of her sex. Winding his free hand into her hair, he bent her head back to suck at the hollow of her neck savoring salt, sweat and grime. She groaned in response feeling the flood of need dampen her shorts. Her hands molded the firmness of his taut, muscular arms. He smelled like sweat and sex, testosterone and soap. It was a scent that drove her wild.
 
Put one and one together, both aggressive, both secure, both commanding  and the mix is heady. She didn't hesitate to fist her hands into the flesh at his waist, kneading the firmness of muscle that wrapped up and around his back.
 
"You want me?" he rasped as he brought both hands up to form and mould her breasts.
 
"I'm taking you." Bridgid tugged at his shorts until they rolled off his hips. Her eyes fell to his pulsing cock.
 
"I'm not going to say at ease."
 
"Wouldn't work right now anyway, love. I'd be insubordinate."
 
In a fluid motion he shoved her shirt up and her shorts down. What he was feeling through the material was now his to probe. Placing a hand on her belly he held her back as he dropped to his knees. There it was, the Holy Grail, the cup of life, the place where life starts with a wail, where men seek respite until the day they die.

"Beautiful," he hummed as he dove in for a taste that wound up being another deep sucking kiss, one that didn't keep her quiet. It was a small breeze that stood him back up. One that swirled around and cooled the single drop of lust that beaded up on the head of his cock. The shiver it sent through him ignited a need to bury it someplace warm and humid. He braced his feet and raised her leg up onto his hip. Looking straight into her eyes, he pushed into her slow and long until his balls fit into the crack of her ass.

No one ever made her whimper before. No one.

Slow steady strokes increased in pace the same way their run did. Where's my high? Ah...there. He feels it, too. I can see it in his eyes. Those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes. 

"Jesus Christ."

He sucked in a breath, his jaw went taut and his body shuddered as he pinned her hard against the oak tree. She closed her eyes and laid her head back at the feel of his steamy release. It was the stuff of dreams, the stuff of legends that made her call out with joy as her body gave in to it entirely. Two total strangers with nothing to lose and war on the horizon found a few moments of bliss with each other. They were entitled to it.

One week to the day a weary marine corp major rolled out of her bunk. She'd survived another frigid night in the desert of Kuwait and the day would be blistering hot. She washed her face and brushed her teeth before she stepped out of the tent.  

"Major."

That voice. She turned to look into the most beautiful set of green blue eyes she'd ever seen, and it was the second time in her life she'd seen them.

"Not many trees to speak of in Kuwait, Captain."

He reached to touch the oak leaf on her uniform that symbolized her rank.

"I'd much prefer oak to palm but sometimes we have to adapt and overcome. You up for a morning run?"

"Outstanding idea, Captain Thorne, but the question is, are you up for it?"  

"Never fails, Major Morgan. Never fails."

THE END

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

Link to "Found", another Terry/Bridgid story