Active Duty - Hunter And Bailey -gay- < Cross-Platform OFFICIAL >

"This can’t happen," Hunter whispered. "Not here. Not on active duty. If command found out—"

"Liar." Bailey crossed the small space and sat on the cot beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "You’ve been pulling twelve-hour patrols and sleeping four hours a night. You’re not a machine, Hunter."

Hunter sat on the edge of his cot, unlacing his boots with the mechanical precision of a man who had done it ten thousand times. His hands were rough, knuckles scarred. He was all sharp angles and hard lines—until Bailey walked in.

This fictional content portrays an LGBTQ+ relationship between two consenting adult service members in a modern military setting. It respects the realities of service while exploring themes of secrecy, trust, and emotional intimacy. Active Duty - Hunter and Bailey -Gay-

Bailey set the MRE down and turned to face him fully. In the dim red light of the tent, his eyes looked almost golden. "I’m a medic. Worrying about you is literally my job. But this?" He reached out and placed a hand over Hunter’s clenched fist. "This isn’t the job."

When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, Bailey let out a shaky laugh. "Took you long enough, Sergeant."

"You need to stop worrying about me," Hunter said, voice low. "That’s an order." "This can’t happen," Hunter whispered

Active Duty: The Distance Between Us

The silence stretched between them like the desert horizon.

Hunter’s thumb traced Bailey’s jawline. "Don’t call me that when you’re in my lap." If command found out—" "Liar

The forward operating base was quiet for once. No mortars, no distant gunfire. Just the hum of generators and the whisper of desert wind against the shipping containers that served as their makeshift home.

That made him pause. His real name. Not Sergeant, not Cross. Hunter.

Hunter finally looked at him. Really looked. Bailey’s face was smudged with dust and exhaustion, but there was something unshakable there. Kindness. Courage. A love that had grown quietly over six months of patrols, near-misses, and late-night conversations about everything except what mattered most.

Bailey grinned. "Yes, sir."

"You skipped chow again," Bailey said, leaning against the doorframe of the conex box they shared. His ACU top was unbuttoned, revealing a gray t-shirt underneath. A medic’s patch was sewn over his heart. "I brought you an MRE. Chili Mac. Your favorite."