This Man's Army

[diseased-mango.livejournal.com]

Title: This Man's Army

Author: Diseased Mango

Rating: NC-17 *NOT WORKSAFE*

Pairing: Klinger/Cpl.Miller

Warning: Dubious consent, coercion, prostitution, voyeurism, humiliation, cross-dressing, rimming

Summary: In the season six episode "Major Topper", Klinger is given the pleasure of having to train one Corporal 'Boots' Miller who, unlike Klinger, actually is crazy as a loon. However, it's not until the man is discharged on the coveted section 8 that Klinger learns the full extent of his psychosis.

A/N: Pure unadultered smut, with the just a sprinkling of plot for taste. Huge thanks to hawkeyecat and siggen1 for the beta.




" What do I have to do?" Klinger asked, eyeing his surroundings with disgust. There were a lot more men in there, more army men, than he’d thought there would be, and their attention, coupled with the smell of sour beer, smoke, and stale sex was making him nauseous. He tugged at the hem of his cherry red cocktail dress, trying to get it to cover as much of him self as possible. It had been a gift from his sister (the color will be lovely with your eyes), but his sister was a good deal smaller than him, so the lacy hem kept on riding up his thighs while the corset-style back wouldn’t close entirely, exposing little strips of flesh. The straps of his three-inch-high-heels wound in a crisscrossing pattern up his calves to just above his knees, which were crossed tightly. Lord knows he’d been wearing women’s clothing for a good couple of years now…but was this how women felt wearing them; did they feel like meat for sale, wrapped up in nothing but cellophane?

" You that eager to get to work?" Replied the man sitting on the barstool next to him. He was American; just a typical, brown-haired and blue-eyed Joe, but not enlisted, so what he was doing in Seoul, Klinger couldn’t say. Surely it couldn’t be the man’s dream to own his very own run-down brothel in the middle of a war-zone, but Klinger had heard of crazier things. What the man was doing in Seoul was beside the point, though. The point was that he was in Seoul with a way to get Klinger out, and Klinger was getting very tired of wearing dresses.

" No, I’m just that eager to get out of this place."

" So eager you won’t have a beer? You haven’t even asked for my name yet." The man asked, grinning. Klinger didn’t like it; it was feral and far too similar to the leers he was getting from the men at the tables.

" I’ll pass." Klinger replied.

" The name is Richard, and I think you will have a beer." Richard shook his beer bottle at the barkeep. " Another one of these for the missus." He said, and then turned to Klinger.

" Trust me, you’re gonna want one." The barkeep put a brown, unlabeled bottle in front of Klinger along with a glass and napkin. Klinger ignored the glass (was that lipstick or something else) and instead used the napkin to wipe off the mouth of the bottle. He took a swig and almost gagged; the beer must have been some home brew that was entirely too old and too strong.

" Good stuff, huh?" Richard said, taking a swig of his own. Klinger shook his head no, and took another drink, anyway. On that point, at least, Klinger suspected Richard was right. The only way he could go through with whatever it was he had to do was to get completely sloshed.

" It’s disgusting." Klinger gasped after drinking down half the bottle. Richard laughed.

" I know, but it’s almost twenty-proof. Pretty amazing, huh?" Klinger snorted.

" You’ve never met Hawkeye Pierce."

" Who?"

" Forget it." He took another huge gulp, and then pushed it away. Alcohol or no, his stomach couldn’t take anymore.

" Done already?" Richard asked. Klinger, who had been pretty much avoiding the other man’s gaze the entire time, finally looked up from his hands and looked directly into Richards eyes.

" Listen. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing in Seoul, why on earth you’d want to be here, but I don’t. I’ve been trying like hell since I got drafted to get myself out on a section eight; I even tried casting a voodoo curse on my Colonel! I’m driving myself crazy trying to prove to everyone else that I’m crazy, and that crazy Corporal Miller told me I should see you about getting home." Klinger took a deep breath, on the verge of shouting. " I just want to go home, and I’ll do almost anything to get there." Klinger finished. Richard looked at him appraisingly, that feral grin still stretched across his face.

" Only almost anything." Klinger didn’t respond. Richard shrugged and finished his beer.

" Alright then, milady," Richard said, standing up, "follow me. I’ve got something that shouldn’t be too damaging of your morals." Klinger slid from his stool, and his dress rode up just high enough to show he hadn’t been able to wear any underwear with the ensemble. Furious, he nearly tore the fabric pulling it back down, and then stomped off after Richard (who was weaving through the tables to a back door), ignoring catcalls and nearly twisting his ankle in the process.

The door opened to a narrow and barely lit hallway, with more doors on either side. The noise from the bar was muted, as were the clicks of Klinger’s heels on the soft, mildewing wooden floor. The smell of alcohol was more or less gone, but the smell of piss and sex was even stronger, and Klinger wondered just how far he was willing to go to get out of the army. His rumination was abruptly ended, which was probably for the best, when he almost ran into Richard, who had stopped in front of a door almost at the end of the hallway. He took out a key ring and, choosing a little brass key, unlocked the door. It opened with a creak, and Richard stepped back, gesturing for Klinger to enter. He did so, hesitantly, extremely unsure and uncomfortable. Richard entered in after him, and flicked a light on. Klinger blinked a few times; his eyes were unused to the sudden bright light, and cringed. The whitewashed walls were without windows, dingy gray and chipping, exposing cinder blocks and rotting wooden beams. There was no furniture except for a single, twin-sized bed against the far wall, and a nightstand with a drawer next to the head. The bed had no linens or coverings on it, and the mattress was stained yellow and brown, but whether it was from shit or blood, Klinger didn’t care to think about. The light came from a plain white lamp with no shade. Klinger swallowed down the bile and beer that was threatening to come up his throat, and turned around to face Richard.

" Wait here. I’ll send someone to you in just a moment. And no worries…I’ll let him know about your lack of experience in these sort of things." Richard snorted. "Actually, it’ll probably get him off."

"What!" But Richard had already left. Klinger turned around as the door clicked shut and moved to sit down on the bed. It groaned in protest, and Klinger closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at the room any longer, so he clicked off the lamp to wait in the barely better darkness.

The seconds seemed to stretch on indefinitely, but then Klinger heard muffled footsteps stop at his door. One voice was Richard's, and the other was a slightly higher male voice that was disconcertingly familiar. Klinger found himself blushing as Richard described exactly how inexperienced he was. It wasn’t the inexperience that made him blush; it was the detail: rimming, anal penetration, virgin fetish. Half of them he didn’t even know the definition for, and fellatio? What was that…Spanish? The other man laughed, said that none of that mattered, and to just give him the key. There was silence, then the sound of a single set of footsteps moving away, and then the door slowly opened.

The man was shorter than Klinger, but not by much, and Klinger could see by the dim light let in through the door that he was a military man by the fatigues he wore. The man closed the door behind him, and then flicked the light switch on to no avail.

" You wanna turn the lamp on, sweet?" He asked, and Klinger, who had been moving to turn the light on anyway, froze. He knew that voice; he’d heard it every night for a little over a week as it tucked in its boots and socks before bed. That voice had yelled about invisible enemy soldiers while waving a fully loaded rifle around. That voice had told him, while Klinger drove him into Seoul, about a tavern called "This Man’s Army", and a man who could get him home.

" Miller." Klinger whispered.

" Why Klinger, you remember me! Corporal ‘Boots’ Miller, at your service. Or rather, you at mine, if you want to be technical about it." Miller exclaimed. Klinger could just see the stupid grin on the man’s face, and he was suddenly enraged at him. How dare the man mock him? He jumped up off the bed, fully intending to knock Miller flat on his face, but the look on Miller’s face stopped him. The man was leering at him just as had all of the men in the bar, but Miller's look was so much more intense than the other men; his light eyes were lidded and dark, slowly taking in every inch of Klinger’s body. They started at his feet, traveling up unshaven calves and thighs to linger on his appreciatively on his crotch, then continuing upwards to a lean torso, strong shoulders, neck, and finally meeting Klinger’s own eyes once more. Klinger stepped back, unsure of how to react. Men didn’t look at each other like that; it wasn’t normal, and Miller’s hungry look was making him even more uneasy and sick and altogether too warm.

" Oh, Klinger …you have no idea, prancing around in those dresses of yours. You’re absolutely sinful." Miller whispered, advancing. Klinger took another step back, and then another, when he tripped on the edge of the bed and sat down hard. Miller kept on coming toward him, kept on speaking,

" You made me crazy, Klinger, back at the MASH. At night, when you thought I was asleep, I was actually awake and thinking of you, fantasizing about you, touching myself and wishing it was you." Klinger couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He scooted farther back on the bed, not caring that his dress was riding far too high up on his thighs, and pressed himself back against the wall. Miller didn’t stop.

" Come on, Klinger. I’ve waited far too long, come here. Come here and touch me." His voice sounded drugged, and Klinger finally found his voice.

" You’re crazy." He managed to spit out. Miller shook his head and knelt down on the foot of the bed.

" Everyone says that, and I am, but not for the reasons they say. Please, Klinger, touch me, please."

" You lied." Klinger said, voice almost shaking, " Robert…or whoever he is, can’t send me home, can he? You’ve set this up just so you can, can…!" The words caught in his throat as he scrambled away to get off the bed, but Miller grabbed his ankle and pulled him back down. Klinger fell to the bed, knocking his head against the wall on his way down, and he cried out.

" I’m not lying." Miller said, slapping a hand over Klinger's mouth. He leaned in close, and whispered, voice without that drugged quality of just a few minutes ago. "He really will be able to get you home. You just have to do as I say." Klinger’s head throbbed, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears he was holding back from leaking out. The whole situation was impossible and so wrong on so many levels. Miller reached over and tenderly caressed Klinger’s head where it had smashed against the wall. A pair of dry, warm lips ghosted over his shoulder, and Klinger shuddered.

" Just do as I say, and you will go home." Miller whispered in Klinger’s ear. The large, callused hand that had been petting his head snaked down to grab Klinger’s hand and brought it up to cup Miller’s erection.

" And I am telling you to touch me."

Klinger had never touched another man’s penis before, at least not on purpose and certainly not like this. It was warm and hard through the fabric, and disturbingly similar to his own.

" Now rub." Came Miller’s instruction, and after only a moment of hesitation, Klinger obeyed. It was awkward and difficult to manage through the fabric, but he eventually managed a rhythm of pressing and squeezing that had Miller sighing and pressing up into Klinger’s hand, urging him to go faster. Klinger complied. Maybe if he could bring the man off just from that, it would be enough to get him home. Miller’s breath was becoming faster, more shallow and irregular, and his hips were jerking in time with Klinger’s squeezes.

" Ah…Klinger, that’s perfect! Thought you had. No. Experience, ah! No." Miller gripped Klinger’s hand again and pulled him away. Klinger looked up, confused and slightly apprehensive."

" It’s been a while," Miller said, kissing the pads of Klinger’s fingers, "I don’t want to come just yet. Now undo my pants."

Klinger felt like his innards were filled with white-hot shrapnel…there was no way he could have heard Miller correctly.

" Now, Klinger." Miller said, licking once at Klinger’s fingers, and then positioning them at the button of his pants. Klinger looked down at his fingers and the bulge they were resting on, fighting the urge to run. The situation was rapidly spinning out of his control into a very gray place he didn’t want to be in. But he wanted, needed to go home, and if this was how he could get there…

" I thought Richard said I wouldn't have to -"

" Do you want to go home or not?"

Klinger fumbled the button loose and pulled down the zipper. Miller shifted on the bed so he was kneeling directly in front of Klinger, who tugged his pants down, exposing white-ish underwear.

" Klinger…" Miller’s voice was strained, and he lifted his hips. Klinger couldn’t stop looking; the thin white cotton was stretched tautly over Miller’s erection so that Klinger could almost see the exact curve and shape. He pressed his palm against it, shocked at how much hotter it was without so much cloth separating his hand, and then he hooked his thumbs over the elastic bands and pulled the underwear down.
Miller’s erection sprang free, uncut, dusky and full and curving wickedly out of a mat of curly black hair. Miller gave an appreciative sigh, and thrust upward into the air.

" Touch me." Miller commanded, and this time, Klinger didn’t hesitate. He gripped the flesh firmly at the base, and pulled up, mesmerized. Miller’s dick was so hard and unyielding; like a steel pipe wrapped in velvet, and those knots were still convulsing in his stomach, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation anymore. Klinger knew he shouldn’t like the way Miller was panting, mewling with each firm stroke but christ; Miller hadn’t been lying when he’d said it had been a long time. Klinger hadn’t been this close, this way, with another human being for too long, and the heady combination of alcohol and sex and the forbidden were making him hot. He didn’t even realize he was hard until Miller’s hand reached underneath his dress and gripped him, just as Klinger was. Klinger gasped, his eyes flying open, his hand stilling. Miller didn’t stop thrusting though, and Klinger quickly remembered his duties. Another hand came up and grabbed him by the neck, massaging firmly, and then pulling down. Klinger resisted, not knowing what Miller wanted, but then Miller let go of his dick and brought that hand up as well and pulled down, causing Klinger to almost fall over.

" Suck me." Miller commanded, voice raspy. Klinger bolted up, eyes wide.

" What?" Klinger asked.

" You heard me." Miller replied, reaching out again and giving another insistent tug.

" I’ve…I’ve never done this…" Klinger stalled. He didn’t know what frightened him more – the idea of giving a man a blowjob or the fact that he was still hard thinking about it.

" Don’t worry," Miller smiled, pulling down again, " it’s not too difficult. Just cover your teeth with your lips."

Klinger nodded his head slowly and scooted back a bit so he could bend over Miller’s lap and looked at Miller’s penis. It wasn’t huge by any means, but could he really suck it? There was a clear fluid at the tip, and he closed his eyes and took an experimental lick at the head. It didn’t taste like much of anything, if slightly bitter, so he put the last of his reservations aside and, covering his teeth, sucked in the head. Miller let out a shaky sigh, so Klinger decided he must have been doing okay. He tried to take more in, but his lips were dry, so he came back up, licked around the head and the foreskin, and then went back down. Miller moaned deep in his throat, curling his fingers in Klinger’s hair, urging him farther on. He tried to coordinate licking, sucking, and keeping his teeth covered while taking in more, but couldn’t and gagged, teeth scraping. Miller whimpered and pulled back, allowing Klinger to catch his breath, but then thrust shallowly back in. Klinger squeezed his eyes shut, tears collecting in the corners. He gagged with each shallow thrust, but the hot weight in his mouth, rubbing against his tongue and filling his nostrils with its heady, musky sent kept him just on the brink of arousal, and Klinger hated himself for it.

Miller was grunting now, the little gravely vocalizations coming in time with each thrust, which were getting even shallower and quicker. Klinger had stopped trying to move in time, and just held himself up and allowed Miller to fuck his mouth. The grunts turned into words, which might have been shit or fuck, but Klinger couldn’t tell, and then those hands clenched painfully and yanked his head up off the prick. Klinger was panting, jaw aching, and it was hard to breathe with his head pulled back so far. Miller leaned down and licked a hot, wet trail from the hollow up his neck, up along his jaw, and then to his ear, where he whispered,

" Turn over."

When Klinger didn’t immediately obey, Miller let go of his hair and got off the bed, where he pushed his pants down to his ankles. Then he grabbed Klinger by the shoulders and flipped him over so he was laying over the edge of the bed.

" Wha-"

" Shhh." Miller whispered, pushing Klinger’s dress up to expose his bare ass. Miller knelt down on the floor, kneading each globe and leaning over to kiss the small of Klinger’s back. Klinger shivered, pressing up into the touch. Two thumbs were massaging the tender flesh just inside his crack, while a knee was urging his legs to open up. Then those thumbs parted each cheek, and Miller licked up the entire length.

Klinger didn’t even bother to hold back his shout, head shooting up in surprise.

" What the - shit!" He cried again as Miller licked from his perineum to his anus, circling around twitching ring of muscle while Klinger thrust back.

" So wrong…" Klinger whispered, and then cried out again when Miller’s tongue penetrated his sphincter. Dirty; that was the only word of it…but it felt so amazingly good to have that hot, wet tongue stroking over his opening and then plunging in as if Miller wanted to eat his insides. He spread his legs wider, urging Miller to give him more, though of what Klinger couldn’t say. Miller obliged him, thrusting his tongue quickly and deeply while Klinger moaned and humped against the mattress. That knot of anxiety, which had long since morphed into one of arousal, was twisting and growing in the pit of his stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. Klinger was mindlessly groaning and riding Miller’s tongue, when Miller pulled away.

Klinger screamed; the sudden denial of pleasure was almost painful. But Miller just smirked and, leaning against Klinger’s backside, pressed his index and middle finger against Klinger’s lips.

" Suck them." He commanded, and Klinger complied wordlessly, needing anything to take his mind off his clenching hole and the orgasm he’d been denied. He didn’t get to suck long, though, because Miller removed them and then, leaning back again, slipped one finger knuckle deep into Klinger’s ass.
Klinger moaned; the finger was different, but at least something, and was doing amazing things inside of him and Klinger couldn't help but rise up to meet each thrust. Miller pushed another finger in, and Klinger let out a held breath. The fingers twisted around, scissoring, stretching and working the muscle and leaving Klinger to twitch and thrust on the bed. Miller leaned down and spat on the hole, working saliva in with now a third finger.

" Sorry for this," Miller murmured as Klinger squirmed in slight discomfort, " I usually come prepared, but I seemed to think that Richard would have some supplies on hand."

" What?" Klinger's question exploded out of his mouth along with another moan of pleasure.

" No oil for you."

" I…oh…I don't follow."

" Just quiet…this is going to sting a little." Miller whispered, removing his fingers. Klinger moaned in protest, and then caught his breath as something blunt and large pressed against his backside.

" You…you're not going to…" Klinger tried to pull his legs together, but Miller just smirked and held them open, caressing almost, and whispered,

" Push against me."

Then the burning started as, slowly, Miller's cock breached the ring of muscle of his anus, pulling and widening and so much less forgiving than a tongue or fingers. Klinger whimpered and pressed his face into the mattress as tears prickled at his eye. Each muscle in his body was tensely coiled like a spring, and oh God it hurt, and it didn't stop as ever so slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Miller pushed into him.

" Christ, Klinger…" Miller grunted, "Push against me. Too tight."

" I-" Klinger sobbed through the fire,

" C'mon, already. Relax and push, this - ah - is too much." Klinger could do nothing else but obey, and he bore back on Miller's cock, and it got easier by just a fraction.

" Oh, fuck that's good." Miller rasped stopping, and then pulling back. Klinger felt more saliva dribble on his back and down his crack, fingers working between him, and his mind fogged in a bizarre pleasure-pain as Miller pulled and pushed into him. Miller reached around and gripped Klinger's cock again, and Klinger cried out as the hot hand pulled in time with each thrust, and Klinger was crying now, torn between the two sensations. Miller's thrusts were getting faster, harder, and brushing up against something inside Klinger that he hadn't even realized had existed, and he was coming and screaming while bright flashes of white exploded behind his eyelids and Miller continued to pound into him.

Klinger's eyes fluttered open, groaning and sore as Miller continued to use him, and someone chuckled from above.

" Fantastic."

Klinger looked up, confused, into the grinning face of Richard, who stood above him with a Polaroid camera and five white squares in his hand.

Flash!

Dread and disgust and every other feeling beside lust that he'd pushed away flushed through his system like someone had connected him to an IV of ice water. Above him, Miller grunted and shuddered, and then there was a sickeningly lukewarm liquid filling him, and Klinger pressed his face back into the mattress.

Miller pulled out unceremoniously, and bent down to press an almost loving kiss on his abused rear.

" I told you he could get you out." He stood up and took the new picture from the camera and tossed it on the mattress next to Klinger's face. Klinger propped himself up a bit and looked down, biting back a moan of despair at the sight of himself, bent over the bed with his little red dress hiked up over his hips as Miller pounded into him and fisted his cock.

" Show these to your CO and you'll be out tout-suite." Richard remarked, throwing the rest of the photos on the bed. Klinger didn't say anything. He just stared at the photos and gripped his come-stained dress, and wished he were back at the 4077th.

~*~*~*~*~*~

" Klinger!"

Klinger turned slowly at the sound of his commanding officer's voice and blinked back, as if unseeing.

" Klinger! How was your R&R? Have a good time?" Klinger shook himself and managed a small smile,

" Oh, yeah. It was great. Really great."

" You sure? You seem a little down."

" Oh no," Klinger shrugged, turning away and grabbing his bag out of the jeep, "Just wishing it could have been longer" Had never happened.

" Yeah I under- hey! What happened to the dress? That one you left in was a real doosey!" Colonel Potter exclaimed. Klinger looked down at his standard issue Army fatigues and shrugged.

" I'm giving up on that route."

" Really?" Potter's voice was disbelieving. Klinger nodded and hefted his bag onto his shoulder.

" Really. Those dresses don't belong in this man's army." He said, turning away and heading toward the incinerator.

He had a dress to burn.


~fin~