I slipped out of bed and padded quietly across the floor to the bathroom, trying to be as silent as I could when I ran the water to brush my teeth. When I came out, Elias was awake. "Sorry," I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious, standing there naked in front of him. "I tried to be quiet. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's all right," he said. "I usually don't sleep this much at all, actually." I watched him slip on his leg and stand up, hearing it click into place. He walked by me to the bathroom, his cock hard, and slapped me lightly on the ass as he passed me. "But seeing you naked is waking me up now."
When he came out of the bathroom, he took off his prosthetic again and laid down beside me on the bed, pulling my head against his chest. He didn't say anything, but I could hear his heart beating, rapid, underneath my ear.
"How did you lose it?" I asked.
"IED - Improvised Explosive Device," he said. "I'm - I was - EOD." He paused, looked at me before explaining. "Explosive ordnance disposal. We clear bombs. Cleared, I mean. I used to clear bombs. Obviously, I cleared one with my leg. That's not how you're supposed to do it." He laughed, then cleared his throat. "Sorry. Gallows humor."
I rolled over onto my side, rested my hand lightly against his chest. "Where were you deployed?"
"Afghanistan," he said.
"You're not in the EOD anymore?" I asked. For someone who wasn't in the military, he sure had a military look about him. I'd thought that when I first saw him, with the buzzed haircut and the tattoos and his general demeanor.
He shook his head. "Medically retired," he said. His words had a tinge of disgust.
"You don't want to be retired?" I asked.
"Hell no," he said. "I could do my job just fine with the leg. I wanted to deploy again."
"So what happened?"
Elias rolled his eyes. "Retired because of PTSD, which is bullshit," he said.
"Because you don't have it?"
"Hell no, I don't," he said. "That’s just what they called it. Got medically retired instead of getting administratively discharged for a repeated pattern of insubordination.” He emphasized the last phrase and rolled his eyes, but continued talking. “I was on limited duty because of my leg. Couldn’t fucking deal with all the bullshit paper pushers I got assigned to. Fucking caused more problems than when I was in EOD. Ended up getting into it with my lieutenant, this douchebag who’d never deployed, gone outside the wire ever.”
“Outside the wire?”
“So you've got a base or a camp when you’re deployed, right?” he asked. “The perimeter is the wire. Fobbits like him, they stay inside the wire during deployment. Don’t fucking understand how the real world operates.”
“You got kicked out because you got into it with your lieutenant?” I asked. “That seems like a pretty harsh response.”
Elias shrugged. “I guess it was a little more than just getting into it. I punched him in the face. Went to captain’s mast for it.” He must have seen the confused look on my face, because he elaborated. “That’s when you have to go up to see the old man - the commanding officer-he decides your punishment, knocks you down in rank and that kind of shit.”
“So he kicked you out,” I said.
Elias shook his head. “No,” he said. “That has to go through a legal process. He knocked me down in rank and I had to forfeit my pay, but I wasn’t charged with assault. I should have been, but they cut me some slack or whatever. Captain said he thought I needed to see a shrink or something.”
“Did it help?” I asked.
"I’m not broken,” he said. “Just cause I lost my leg doesn’t mean I can’t take care of my own shit.”
"Obviously," I said. It came out more sarcastic sounding than I intended.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “Nothing," I said. "You just seem like the kind of guy who doesn't rely on anyone."
He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. I deliberately left out what I was going to say, which was that anger management didn't seem like the worst idea in the world for someone who got so easily irritated.
"It's not really my thing, relying on people," he said.
"No kidding."
He was quiet for a while, but I could see the gears turning in his head. "I do get irritable," he said. "In the parking lot of the store, I didn't mean to jump your shit for looking at my leg."
"No worries," I said. "I figure it's a sore spot."
"It's not, though," he said. "Not really. Doesn't bother me, I mean. I'm luckier than a lot of other guys. It's just a leg, anyway. I'm fucking bionic and shit now."
I trailed my hand down his trim abdomen, then lower, watching his cock respond to my touch. "You might as well be bionic here, too," I said, my attempt to lighten the mood.
He grinned, making the sides of his blue eyes crinkle. I didn't know what exactly he was carrying with him, but it looked like the weight of the world on his shoulders-until he smiled. Then it was like everything melted away.
"You want me to show you bionic?" he asked, his voice low. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, felt it harden at my touch.