Title: Cost Of Duty
Author: Deb Hicks
Summary: Troy is to hang in the morning. Does he spend the night in a cold cell or with the man who has condemned him?
Note: Second in the "Duty" series; sequel to And Only Duty Remains. Set during the episode "Tug of War Raid." Originally printed in FLANKING MANEUVERS 1

---

Troy had never seen Dietrich so angry. The captain's uncharacteristic temper had surprised and, though he wouldn't admit it, worried Troy. Dietrich had chewed him out for his decision to die rather than cooperate, alluding bitterly to the futile bravery of a man jumping off a bridge. Frowning, he wondered why he was thinking about the man who had ordered his death tomorrow. Scanning the cell once more he accepted the impossibility of escape, which left sitting and worrying or letting his thoughts drift.

Shifting against the hard bricks of the cell, he tried to find a more comfortable position. Felicia also shifted in her sleep, moaning softly against the building fever. Guilt rose in him over their situation and he found himself running through the moment of his capture again. Even as he acknowledged there was nothing he could have done his thoughts returned to the German officer who was his most persistent opponent--and more.

Captain Dietrich had been the last person he would have expected to be here. Why was a panzer captain running a jail in a remote Libyan Vichy French village? He slid away from the chilly bricks. Felicia had both blankets.

"Come," a sharp voice ordered from the door.

Troy looked up to find two guards standing at the open cell door, one with his rifle ready. He couldn't imagine why Dietrich would want to see him. The captain would know he wasn't going to talk. Dietrich wouldn't resort to physical violence even though Troy was technically a spy and it was within the German's right to do so, just as it was within his rights to hang him. Coming to his feet he followed the guards. The only person who could answer his questions was going to be Dietrich.

They led him past the office where Dietrich had questioned him before, and continued on to the farthest section of the building. The door stood open into a small room furnished only with a rough wood desk and a narrow bed; through a door off the back of the room Troy could see a bathroom. Even here there were bars on the single window. Dietrich looked up from the desk and with a wave dismissed the guards. He came to his feet, stood in front of Troy, studying him for a long time.

Troy returned the study. What he found surprised him almost as much as the captain's presence and anger. Dietrich had lost weight, the lines from the desert sun had etched more deeply into his face, and his eyes were bleak. Troy took a sharp breath.

"What do you want, Captain?" He had meant the question to come out hard, but there was a note of confusion in it that he couldn't control.

Instead of an answer, Dietrich sat down. "That man who was hanged this morning," Dietrich stated, "was a German soldier found guilty of rape and murder. I have been here four weeks, Sergeant, and in that time I have avoided writing any death warrants for civilians."

"And I've ruined your record," Troy said blandly.

"My replacement comes in two days."

"Well," Troy said dryly, "you could always leave us for the new guy."

Dietrich's expression told Troy he had considered just that. "My superiors would not look favorably on that."

Troy waited, knowing Dietrich had more to say. When he was met with only silence, his temper flared. "Is there anything else, Captain?"

"Is there anything I can say that would persuade you to give me that microfilm?" Dietrich nearly pleaded.

For an instant Troy's thoughts went to the young girl in his cell, and he wanted more than anything to give the captain what he wanted. Thoughts of Felicia's determination and bravery stopped him. He shook his head. "Nothing." He cut his eyes down to Dietrich's dark gaze. "But you already knew that, Captain. Cut the bull and tell me what you really want."

Nodding, more to himself than Troy, Dietrich again came to his feet and walked past Troy to the window. The sadness that Troy had seen in Dietrich during a moonlit oasis night was sharper, heavier.

"I wished to say good-bye, Sergeant," Dietrich said as he turned. "And to thank you for our last meeting."

Memories of that night in the desert brought Troy up straighter. He had been trying to forget the experience--and couldn't. Even when he took leave, when he was safely in the arms of a sensuous woman, even then he found his thoughts drifting to the pleasure he had shared with Dietrich, to the surprising gentleness over the strength, the unexpected intensity of the heat. It was not something he wanted to think about.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said sharply. "You saved my life, I returned..."

Dietrich brought his hand up, waved off Troy's protest. There was a moment of careful characteristic consideration on Dietrich's part. "I wished to thank you for... accepting my differences."

The careful wording reminded him of Dietrich's precarious position in an army that shot men for being different; a position the captain thought already compromised. Troy stared at the man for a minute, not knowing what to say.

Finally, Troy said, simply, "You're welcome." It seemed inadequate but Dietrich answered with a half-smile, which prompted Troy to add candidly, "I'm sorry we both won't be seeing the end of this, Captain."

"As am I. There are many things in this war which I regret, Sergeant," Dietrich said honestly. "But this is the one I will not forget."

The shocking truth in that statement made Troy realize that a single roll of microfilm was going to cost two lives, and one man's soul. Again there was the insane urge to turn it over, to save all of them.

Dietrich took a step toward the door. A firestorm of emotions blazed through Troy. The situation was so crazy! Crazier still was the emotion that remained when the rest had burned away. He wanted to be here, wanted to share his final night with the man who would order his death in the morning. Troy reached out, not touching, but merely signaling Dietrich to stop. The officer looked sideways at him.

"I don't want to go back to the cell just yet, Captain," he said with amazing control.

As before in a silken tent, his meaning was clear to Dietrich. And also as before, the German's response was not what Troy had expected. Pain swept over the rugged features and Dietrich closed his eyes for an instant. When he opened them there was fire in the dark gaze.

"You want to make it worse than it is?" Dietrich demanded.

Troy took a short breath; he had not even considered Dietrich's feelings on the matter. He was hit with guilt which combined with the fear he had been trying to ignore; the result was anger. "Worse!? I'm the one that's going to die tomorrow!"

Dietrich stared at him for an instant, then he laughed sadly, as he had in office earlier. "My apologies, Sergeant."

The insane idea died as suddenly as it hit, leaving depression and desperation. There was still the hope, well-hidden, that his team would find him before tomorrow and he held one card that Dietrich didn't know about--Felicia's father. It would be better for everyone if he went back to his cell. Straightening, he saluted.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain," he said crisply. "I think I'll go back to the cell now."

He stepped toward the door, and Dietrich snagged his arm, turning him. His arms were held to his sides by Dietrich's large hands as his mouth was taken in a gentle kiss. The erotic images flared in his mind and desert heat rose in his blood. He moved his hands up from the elbows, gripped Dietrich's narrow hips, startled again by the whip tight thinness of his companion. Dietrich's lips parted under his and he slid his tongue in to taste German. Dietrich sighed, easing away mere inches.

"You shall have to scream on occasion, Sergeant," he whispered, breath floating over Troy's cheek.

Pulling back, Troy met mischief in the dark eyes. "What?"

"They think I am questioning you," Dietrich explained with a quick nod toward the door.

Needing to see something beyond the death lurking in the shadows, Troy played to the humor in the situation. "I've answered all the questions I'm going to, Captain," he said loudly enough to carry.

As he spoke, Dietrich took off his belt, started on his shirt. "You will answer my questions, Sergeant, or you will suffer the consequences."

Troy smiled, started stripping off his own clothes. "Forget it, Captain!"

Dietrich slapped his belt across the palm of his hand, making a very convincing sound. With a quick wave, Troy signaled him to do it again. When Dietrich compiled, Troy let out a nearly convincing grunt of pain. Dietrich sat down, shedding his boots and pants in one move. Troy kicked off his shoes with ease, jerked off the too-loose pants.

His smile faded as he turned to Dietrich. He suddenly realized why Dietrich was here. It had been barely ten weeks since their encounter at Mohadid's camp, since the night of passion, and the knife fight to save their lives had left Dietrich badly wounded. Troy stepped closer, his eyes meeting the chocolate-colored gaze. Dietrich was staring at him, puzzled, as much as Troy was, by the concern he knew his expression was giving away. Slowly, he reached out and with one finger traced the scar under Dietrich's ribs.

Dietrich wrapped his hand around Troy's and moved it away. "The wound infected rather badly," he explained.

"That's why you're here," Troy surmised. "They don't want you back in a field command yet."

Nodding, Dietrich added, "Two days and I will be free of this... duty."

His words tore Troy's thoughts back to Felicia and his own very short future. The thoughts brought strange emotions with them, not the anger or hatred he would have expected, but rather a slow ache, for home, for family, for the sight of his team. There was so much he hadn't done, hadn't told people. He closed his eyes.

He felt Dietrich retreat a step. "Perhaps, Sergeant, this is a bad idea."

Troy snapped his eyes open, met the dark ones he knew as well as anyone's. There were a thousand ways to try to explain to Dietrich why he needed this, as many ways to convince himself why he shouldn't. With a deft move, he dropped his shorts.

"Give up, Captain," he shouted. "I'm not telling you...."

He kicked the chair next to him, sending it crashing over into the wall. Dietrich shook his head, and once more took him in his arms. In his ear, he asked, "Are all Americans so crazy?"

"Are all Germans so talkative?" Troy returned.

The answer was a series of slow, wet kisses that fell across his shoulders and down his chest. He slipped his hand under Dietrich's chin, moved him into another kiss. He eased away, struck by an odd thought. In Mohadid's camp the passion had started when they were already lying together, he had not realized until now how much taller Dietrich was than him. A smile touched him.

"What?" Dietrich prompted, seeing the amusement.

"Just realized how strange it is to kiss someone taller than me," Troy explained.

"Sergeant," Dietrich replied dryly, "This whole situation is strange."

Troy laughed, having been thinking the same thing. Dietrich returned the smile, the corners of his mouth curling up, forming lines where very few marked any laughter. Troy stepped to the bed; lying on his side, he motioned Dietrich down next to him. The German started to slide in, then stopped and shook his head.

"You don't have much time, Sergeant," he shouted. "I advise you to give me what I want."

Troy frowned at him, catching both meanings in the first statement, unsure of the second. Dietrich went to the desk, opened the drawer and a moment later returned with a small can of gun oil in his hand, which he sat on the pillow next to Troy. Swallowing, Troy looked up at him, trying not to let his sudden nervousness show. Dietrich shook his head.

"It isn't what you think," Dietrich said quietly.

Remembering the incredible pleasure Dietrich had given him last time, Troy started to say something. Dietrich silenced him with a deep, lingering kiss. He moved onto the bed, one hand running down Troy's leg while the other teased at his own cock. Troy watched, entranced as the long fingers coaxed the shaft to full length. Trying to reach for Dietrich's cock, Troy found himself stopped as Dietrich took his wrist and brought his hand up. Dietrich licked slowly across his knuckles. The simple move started a wave of summer heat through Troy's cold flesh.

Releasing his hand, Dietrich transferred the erotic licks to his chest, moving up from his navel to circle each hard nipple. Troy moaned loudly, arching back into the pillows. Dietrich's tongue flicked fast over one nub.

"Damnit!" Troy yelled to cover the need to gasp.

Dietrich switched to the other side, strong fingers gliding down to stroke just once up Troy's hard cock. Troy grabbed Dietrich's shoulders, tugged at him. Dietrich stopped his sensual moves, looked up at him.

"You're not getting anything," Troy said loudly.

Without responding, Dietrich rolled away, parted Troy's legs and knelt in between them. When Dietrich looked up at him, there were shadows in the warm brown eyes. "Let me do this, Sergeant," he whispered.

The statement was almost a plea and Troy understood it. At dawn Captain Dietrich would follow his duty and Sergeant Troy would be hanged. But between two desperate men, the German wanted to show him pleasure, wanted him to know something besides fear on his last night. Troy waited for the dominant side of his personality to fight back. It didn't. For now, for tonight, he wanted to let someone else be strong, wanted to let someone else lead.

"Take your best shot, Captain." He raised his voice again, but the palm he laid on Dietrich's throat softened the line, relayed his thanks without resorting to words.

"Yell, Sergeant," Dietrich suggested with a hint of a smile.

"Already?" Troy returned lightly, shoving aside the dark thoughts.

Troy let out a convincing yell of pain, convincing enough that Dietrich actually flinched. Lowering his head without meeting Troy's gaze again, Dietrich picked up his assault, sucking one nipple while pinching hard on the other. Troy groaned loud, tangling his hands in Dietrich's fine hair. For one insane moment thoughts of escape filled his mind. Closing his eyes he pushed the idea away, knowing even now that he wouldn't take advantage of Dietrich any more than he had in the cave where they had once been trapped. He concentrated on the pleasure Dietrich's touch was firing along his nerves, let himself feel and think only about the talented fingers.

Dietrich shifted and the tongue that had been playing along his chest trailed lower. Troy gasp as the first light touch flicked across the head of his cock. The hands on his chest eased away, leaving his only point of contact the hot mouth that slipped over his shaft. Pushing up into the wet heat, he grabbed the strong, thin arms on either side of his waist, anchoring himself. Dietrich's tongue swirled under the flared head, traced along the vein, not sucking, not offering any pressure, just offering a haven for his shaft. As simple as it was, Troy felt the heat from midday to high noon, blazing from blood to nerves. He thrust up--and the touch vanished.

He opened his eyes to find Dietrich watching him. The German jerked his eyes away, but not before Troy saw the regret. Troy broke the grip he had around Dietrich's wrist, moved both hands up to stroke down the thin cheeks. The sadness that was so much a part of the man faded a little and Dietrich reached for the can of oil. Troy intercepted the move.

Sitting up a little, he said, "Let me." Dietrich looked doubtful. "I'll be good, I promise."

Still looked doubtful, Dietrich nodded, straightening. Troy smiled at the solid, straight cock that jutted out from between Dietrich's lean thighs. Squeezing a generous portion of oil into his hand, Troy reached for the large shaft, circling Dietrich's deep red cock with both hands in smooth circular motions. Troy's action were rewarded with a deep moan as Dietrich's eyes slid closed. While one hand slipped down to roll the heavy balls, Troy's other hand encircled just under the flared head, his thumb flicking over the slit. Dietrich gasped, clamping his teeth over his lower lip to stop the sound. Hands still moving slowly, Troy leaned forward and kissed him, letting the next moan echo through his teeth.

Dietrich jerked away, nearly glaring at him, panting hard. "You are being impossible, Sergeant," he snapped loudly.

Troy smiled. Dietrich took control, one hand pushing Troy back, while the other reached for the can. "Close your eyes, Sergeant."

With a small shrug, Troy did as told. The talented mouth returned, tongue licking slowly down one side of his cock and up the other. Dietrich's hand grasped the base of Troy's shaft, and in the next instant oil trickled under his balls, the feel sensuous and scary. Panic touched Troy for a moment but he remembered Dietrich's assurance and kept his eyes closed.

"Shift up," Dietrich ordered.

Troy raised his hips, felt the oil run down his ass. Dietrich's hand slipped under him, catching the warm fluid, palm pressing up into his balls, fingers grazing lightly over the entrance to his body. His tension faded at the intimate, fiery touch. Dietrich's hand pressed hard at the base of his cock. Troy sighed, head going back into the pillows.

Dietrich echoed the sound, one oiled hand working his own cock. Troy only barely had time to register the move as Dietrich's hot mouth slid slowly down his shaft. The full lips closed around the sensitive flesh, barely touching all the way down, tongue flicking over the head. Sunlight flared along his nerves and Troy's breathing picked up as he let himself sink into the heat and lust.

The German was a master, taking him up slowly, knowing when to touch, when to ease away. Troy gasped, holding tight to the edge of the rough wool blanket. He tried to pick up Dietrich's rhythm but the man kept breaking it, keeping him on edge. Troy thrust up, aching for more contact, trying to drive into Dietrich's tight throat. Dietrich moved away.

"Damnit.... Dietrich," Troy gasped.

A wicked chuckle answered his desperation. "Louder, Sergeant," he urged.

Troy didn't disappoint; when Dietrich took him again, he yelled, turning the sound from agonized pleasure into pitiful pain. He arched up again, and Dietrich's finger slid deep into his body. Alien sensations swamped Troy's nerves, turning the fire to ice, freezing him, leaving him afraid to move, afraid of the pleasure that threatened to rip him apart. Dietrich took him deeper into his mouth, sucking harder. The ice evaporated in a cloud of steam and Troy didn't care what he sounded like as he yelled.

Now the barrage was unrelenting, the sucking solid and hot. The slender invader moved in time to Dietrich's mouth, sending phosphorus into his stomach. Troy cried out again, pushing down, demanding more. Time, place, even who was causing his erotic torment was lost under the firestorm that raged across his nerves. The heat climbed and Troy knew he couldn't hold it off this time. His body thrashed, suspended between two sources of pleasure--and new pressure entered his body, stealing his shaky breath. Dietrich's two fingers touched deep, turning the Sahara heat into nova-bright sunlight. Troy cried out, spilling hot fluid down Dietrich's willing throat, every muscle locked in the passion of his release.

He was held there for an eternity, barely aware of what had hit him. A moment or a lifetime later he felt movement on the bed. Forcing his eyes open he watched, fascinated as Dietrich's slender hands pumped his own cock. The man was kneeling between Troy's open legs, head down, other hand still stroking just inside Troy's ass. The too thin body was moving to the time of Dietrich's hand, the muscles standing out in sharp relief under the fair skin. Once more Troy was struck with the man's rugged beauty and loneliness. He moved without thinking. Coming to his knees. Troy wrapped his hand around Dietrich's, picking up the hard movement. Dietrich looked up, startled. Troy pulled him close, taking him in a deep kiss, sucking his tongue into his mouth. With a cry muffled by Troy's mouth, Dietrich came, spilling white liquid over their joined hands.

Dietrich fell forward, wrapping himself around Troy, body shaking with release. Troy held him tight as he rode out the last shudders. They stayed that way a long time, each afraid to move, knowing that reality and death waited for them.

It was Troy who finally broke the contact, easing away slowly, savoring the feel of damp skin under his hands as he moved away. When they were once more isolated, he sat back, waiting, though he couldn't have said for what. Almost reluctantly, Dietrich looked up at him, eyes carefully neutral. His hand came up toward Troy's cheek and Troy reached for it.

"Hauptman Dietrich?" A voice called through the door.

They both jumped, their moves aborted. Dietrich dropped his gaze and slid off the bed. "Yes?"

"The doctor is here, sir."

Dietrich took a slow breath and clasped his hands behind his back. Troy smiled very slightly, even naked, Dietrich managed to look like an officer.

"I'll be right there, Corporal."

The officer turned, grabbed his neatly folded clothes and retreated to the bathroom. Minutes later he came back out, as immaculate as ever, and started to the door, still not looking at Troy. Troy began to wonder if Dietrich had been right, if the whole thing had been a bad idea.

"I'll be back soon, Sergeant," Dietrich said as he opened the door, voice very controlled.

Dietrich locked the door behind him, leaving Troy alone in the room. Troy reached for his clothes and also went into the bathroom.



By the time Dietrich returned Troy had decided two things; there was no way out of the room, and having sex with him had been a good idea. Dietrich came back in and stood in front of him, the perfect German captain once again. Except for the shadows in his eyes.

Troy thought of trying to break that precise control, knew it would only take a small move, a word, a smile. And it would only make things worse for the man under the stiff uniform.

Coming to attention, Troy saluted sharply. "Captain."

Dietrich returned the salute. "Sergeant."

Dietrich opened the door, revealing a guard waiting for him. As Troy started forward as Dietrich said, "Sergeant." Troy paused. Dietrich didn't lookup. "That man being brave while jumping off a bridge? It isn't you."



"Troy?"

Troy looked up from the rifle he was cleaning. It was a constant task, trying to keep the sand out of the machines and the weapons. Moffitt was standing just inside the small, sweltering tent.

"Yeah?" Troy replied.

"I thought you might like to know," Moffitt said, "that Dietrich's alive."

It was a struggle to control his relief. He turned away, scrubbing at the scarred metal of the rifle. "What makes you think I care what happens to Dietrich?" He asked levelly.

Moffitt chuckled. "I know you threw that grenade short when you saw him run out of the building. You care. Though why, I don't know. I don't think you do either."

Sighing, Troy admitted that much was true. He had seen Dietrich go down, lying still after the grenade had gone off. The question of his survival had haunted Troy for the week since. And he knew it would have bothered him even before the magnet of sexual attraction. There had been a bond, a tie, a respect that defied logic from the beginning. He also knew it went both ways, knew that Moffitt's timely rescue had saved more than just Felicia and himself. He would never be able to tell that to Moffitt or anyone which, not for the first time, gave him a little more empathy with Dietrich and his own brother.

He felt a shift of air, knew Moffitt was moving away. "Jack?" Troy turned, met the bright hazel eyes and smiled. "Thanks."

Moffitt returned his smile, then shook his head in amused disbelief. Troy returned to his cleaning. He refused to acknowledge the shiver that traced along his nerves as he reached for the can of gun oil.

THE END

---

On to the next story in the series, "True Knight's Duty"
Back to the index of Deb Hicks's stories
Back to FLANKING MANEUVERS 1
Back to the FLANKING MANEUVERS main page