Mustache Masquerade

Whenever Jake returned from a deployment or mission, it was always cause to celebrate. By the time you physically reunited, the hardest part was over. You already knew he was coming home, so that weight was off your chest.

Fortunately, you got deployments under your belt early in your relationship. You and Jake had been seeing each other long enough that you decided to move in together, and the very next month he was summoned to sea.

Naturally, the reunion after that first deployment was exhilarating. Thank the gods it was on a Friday, because you spent the entire weekend tangled in your bedsheets with at least one of Jake's heads between your thighs.

That memory made you smile as you cruised toward the base, music playing at a reasonable decibel for once and turning heads as your arm rested out the window of your lifted, blacked-out Ford F-150 Raptor.

You slowed and flashed your credentials at the security kiosk as the gates wobbled open. The guard greeted you by name, complimented your ride and waved you through. You rolled into a parking spot and looked at the dashboard clock. Killing the engine, you then sat in the truck and scrolled through your social media. By this point, you had enough experience to time your arrival so you didn't wait too long. When the vehicle electronics shut off, you knew that 15 minutes passed and it was appropriate to text Jake for an update.

Nowadays, the excitement of Jake coming home was different. Yes, you still—always within the first 12 hours—broke your celibacy. However, the foreplay was sometimes a little less heavy petting and a little more verbal sparring.

Today was one of those days.

Once you began to notice people filtering into the parking lot, you looked out the windshield and saw Jake making his way toward the truck. What really caught your attention was the lush strip of hair above his lip. Your mouth fell open as you stared at him through the windshield. You even slid your sunglasses atop your head to make sure you were seeing him clearly.

The laugh stirring in your throat finally bubbled over as you threw your phone in the cupholder and slipped out the driver's door. You leaned against the grill of the truck with your arms folded over your chest. Jake's pace quickened as he saw you. The two of you kept eye contact as he closed the distance.

When he was within earshot, you finally spoke. "Hey, Bradley. Have you seen Jake? I'm supposed to pick him up."

Jake came to a halt and feigned pain with a palm against his stomach. "Whoa, that hit me deep." He chuckled.

You grinned in disbelief. "A mustache? Really?" You leaned off the truck and walked toward Jake so you could better inspect his lip sweater. One of your eyebrows crept up your forehead. "They gave you clearance to grow facial hair, and you chose a regulation mustache?"

You were truly surprised. While on active duty, Jake was always clean shaven. However, whenever he had extended leave, he would grow the fullest beard time would allow and only commit to trimming and conditioning. And you didn't mind one bit—Jake with a beard was your kryptonite, and he knew it.

His assignment during this deployment had been to fly patrol and reconnaissance for Navy and Marine Special Forces units throughout the Middle East. To blend in with the units and the general population, he had special clearance to grow full facial hair.

While you were busy making eye contact with Jake's mustache, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you toward him. His touch drew your gaze to his eyes. You tucked yourself into his side, placing a hand on his chest, still looking up at him.

"It comes with free rides," he explained, keeping his eyes locked on yours. His hand slipped down to your backside and squeezed. You hummed in response.