An expression midway between anxiety and pleasure played on Samir Gadott’s lips. Grabber glanced at him then looked away. What are you thinking about? He asked. Gadott snapped back to attention. Said he was thinking about that rape charge that still loomed over his head from his Republican Guard days back in Kuwait. Said he was innocent, that it was entirely consensual. He said that a lot. Grabber just looked at him for a moment and replied that he hadn’t asked. And it was true; the truth didn’t matter much to Grabber. You don’t worry about a woman’s momentary discomfort when you’ve seen men get split in half with rocket propelled grenades right in front of your eyes. Hell, you don’t worry about their discomfort when you have split men in half with your own damn hands right in front of your own damn eyes. And plus, their tight military outfits… Grabber let his thoughts trail off and glanced back at Gadott who was lost in thought again, gently thrusting his hips back and forth and making panting noises. Grabber wondered what he was thinking about.

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