Small town delinquent runs off to the army… Sound familiar?
That’s right. Micky from Responsible Adult’s best bud Jason has his own story. I wrote it years and years ago, but thought I’d revisit it now all the audios are out. And y’know what, I quite like it. We all know Jason’s an acquired taste…as was mentioned in Reformed. But everyone deserves a shot at love and bit of redemption, right? Even a bit of a twat like Jason.
Take a look at a prologue, the moment it all starts for our Jase… (unedited, rough draft).
**Picture is NOT the cover, it was made as a motivation for me and acted as a placeholder on Wattpad. Book has been unpublished from there ready to edit and release**
Prologue: Pull Your Socks Up
Jason had barely pulled out, his dick deflating within the condom when he leaned away from Sophie’s face to ask, “What?”
He stepped back, careful that he didn’t trip over his MTP trousers ravelled down to his ankles and crumpling over his newly shined boots. Well, it was only polite to turn up to an illicit rendezvous with freshly polished army wear. She liked that.
Or, she’d used to.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He wasn’t asking for her to repeat herself because he hadn’t heard. Oh, he’d heard all right. Even over all the grunting and groaning—from her, he’ll fucking well add—but he did feel a little clarification was in order here.
“I’m going back to him.” Sophie shimmied down her pencil skirt.
Right. So, he hadn’t misheard.
Miffed, Jason slapped off the condom and struggled not to launch it at her face. He glanced around for somewhere to stash the incriminating evidence, but the dishevelled warehouse used for training scenarios they were currently hiding in would be checked over later, so after yanking up his camouflage, he pocketed it to discard it somewhere else. On a scrap heap somewhere.
Like where he was evidently being thrown.
“You know what, Soph.” Jason tugged out his beret from his back pocket. “You can go fuck yourself. ‘Cause I’m done doing what he should be doing for you.”
It wasn’t exactly a great comeback. She’d kind of already insinuated that she no longer wanted him…this. Whatever this had been for however long it had been going on. But he wasn’t taking it lying down. He wasn’t surrendering. He was the one who pointed the gun. Not her. She just messed with people’s heads.
“Jase—” She reached out for him after having ruffled her dark hair back into its neat bun. “Don’t be like this.”
“You’re a fucking bitch.” Jason scrunched the beret in his hand and pointed an angry finger. His face was as scarlet as his hat, and it wasn’t all down to having fucked Sophie against the wall at lightning speed. They only ever had a few moments of peace before someone would be looking for them—him mainly—so their time on the base had always been a rush job. No time to savour the moment. Which, in hindsight, was probably a fucking good thing.
She didn’t deserve his tenderness.
Even if he had any.
“What do you expect?” Sophie rammed a hand on her hip, her hourglass figure hugged and accentuated by those pencil skirts and blouses she wore. She did it on purpose. Jason knew she did. She loved turning the heads of the hundreds of soldiers who roamed the barracks when sauntering by, only for them to be reprimanded by Sergeant Brighton for it. She loved making him jealous.
Brighton, that was. Cause Jason couldn’t give a fuck.
Ah. Yeah. He sort of understood her question now.
“Not to be told mid-fuck would be a start,” he barked instead, ‘cause he was still pissed off. This hadn’t been how he had envisaged his homecoming would go. Coming back from his recent tour, he’d expected a fuck, a puff, a chillout and a catch up with all those he’d left behind when holed up in a desert for nine months.
“I tried to talk to you first.” Sophie folded her arms. “But you launched yourself at me.”
Jason bellowed a laugh. “Sure you did, babe. You need have only said no and I’d’ve backed off.”
She gave him a dubious look. One he knew all too well from having had to sit opposite her in the psyche office.
“A nine-month deployment, Soph!” Jason scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Nine fucking months and I come home to this!”
“Which is why I let you.” She reached out a hand that Jason supposed was going to squeeze his biceps, probably offering a lighter touch than when she’d been gripping them to keep from sliding down the wall moments earlier. He could still feel the fingertips indenting into his skin. “I missed you too.”
“Yet you’re buggering off back to him? Him!”
“Shh!” Sophie darted her gaze to the open door of the warehouse. “Do you want someone to hear us?”
For a brief, career sabotaging moment, he did. But ingrained training kicked in and he shook himself out, adjusted the beret on his head, slightly to the side, and stepped back. “Go on, then,” he said. “Go be miserable.”
“I need stability, Jason.”
“Course you do.”
“He’s a sergeant, on his way to Lieutenant.”
“And me? I’m just his fucking grunt. Yeah. Cheers, Soph.” Jason spun on his heel. “Don’t call me when you wanna play-away again. I ain’t your toy fucking soldier!”
He’d kill Micky for telling him that story.
“Jason!” Sophie’s squeal followed him out into daylight.
Jason didn’t slow his quick march. He was too riled to let himself form words. No doubt he’d be court-martialled for the things he wanted to say to her. What a fucking bitch! He stamped over the dirt mound, back toward the main housing units, saluting to those in superior ranks as he passed, game face on but eyes focused ahead and his block of single-soldier units. Thank fuck he didn’t share with the grunts anymore. He had his own digs. Small, but equipped with all he needed to get through the days of being back on home-soil.
Letting himself into his room, he scraped off his beret and placed it on the pride of place hook, then collapsed to sit on his bed. The mattress dipped and the metal prongs squeaked as he placed his head in his hands and drove his fingernails through his hair. He needed to buzz it off again. It was almost a couple of inches long now. Least he could grip it and yell, “Fuck!”
With a furious huff, he yanked his phone from the charger on his bedside unit and slammed in the right number. He needed a talking to. And whereas normally he’d be signposted to the unit psychologist, he’d just fucked and been dumped by her, so he needed someone else to have a moan at.
“You’re back?” The bloke answered pretty quick, which was a good a sign as any that he was available for a chat. Or perhaps waiting for his call. Which brought a brief smile to his lips and a warmth to his belly.
Least he could always rely on Micky.
“Remind me to keep my dick away from women for the foreseeable, yeah?”
“Sure. What you done this time?”
Jason flickered his eyes closed. Everyone would always think it was his fault. To be honest, it mostly was. But this time, he wasn’t so sure.
“Stuck it in the wrong person, mate.”
“Well, y’know what they say?” Micky’s chuckle indicated that he would be reciting some joke on him any moment now.
“Better to have tried out the wrong person than to have potentially missed your chance with the right one.”
“Fuck, bruv, what the fuck is that?”
“They call it a motivational quote.”
“I call it wanky bollocks.”
Micky chuckled. “When d’you get back?”
Jason looked at his watch. “Two hours ago.”
Micky whistled. “Nice work then. Picked up some girl on the bus home and already ticking her off to a bad mistake. Record time, Jase. I’m almost impressed.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He didn’t bother correcting Micky. He was his best mate, yeah, but long had since gone the times that they shared everything. And the fact that Micky was shacked up and married to another bloke, it was probably a good thing that they didn’t. Micky was all monogamous and happily married and didn’t make these mistakes anymore.
And, fuck, did Jason envy that.
So, having had the decision made for him by his biggest mistake to date, he thought that perhaps he needed to sort his life out like Micky had. He’d made an epic load of mistakes in the past, but that was it now. Gone. No more fucking about. No more getting himself in situations that could potentially end his career before he made it to the next rank. Total, one hundred percent, give it all he’s got, respectable, obedient, fucking-great soldier from now on. Nothing—no one—was going to make him risk his love of the Army. Ever. He was going to climb the ranks and show Sophie and every other fucker that he means business.
The rap at the door startled him. “Gotta go, Mick. Give my love to the fam.”
Jason clicked off, stood and when he yanked open the door to his room, he baulked. Sargant Brighton stood behind it and Jason wasn’t sure whether to expect his right hook or not. Could he have seen? Could Sophie have told him already?
“Welcome back, Corporal.”
Jason had to force himself to salute.
“No need for that.” Brighton waved him off. “I heard you didn’t want to go off base for a bit?”
Jason went to open his mouth to explain that it had been a poor oversight to have said that on his return, but he knew Brighton would end up asking more questions that Jason, as his minion, would struggle to answer. Truth had been, he’d fancied letting off a bit of steam with Brighton’s fiancée. But that wasn’t available anymore.
“If that is the case.” Brighton rocked back on his heel. “I got a job for you.”
“What sorta job?”
“I’m up to date on all my—”
“Not your training. You as the trainer. To the new recruits. How’d’you fancy being the one separating the men from the boys, eh?”
“We have a bus load coming in the next couple of days. We start oh-eight-hundred Monday. Toughest gig on the planet. You ready?”
Jason grinned. Yeah. He could do that. What could possibly go wrong with a bunch of scared little boys leaving mummy’s side for the first time? Or the ones who think they’re rough and ready and will piss all over the tests. He’ll show them what being in the army is all about. That was a sure-fire way to get his head back in the game and keep his dick out of it.
He rubbed his hands together. “Born ready.”