Below Deck in the South Pacific

[TwilightGrey]

Chapter 1: Pearl Harbor 1944

“You’re pulling my leg,” Fowler’s expression was pinched.

“Wish I was,” Mosby replied with his usual South Carolina drawl, “But, I heard it straight from Towers up in the radio room. Says they put us on the run between Pearl and Ulithi,” his voice lowered, “and back again.”

“Again,” Fowler grunted.

“Again,” Mosby answered.

Levi sprung up from his bunk, not that it made him much taller, “Goddamnit, I thought I was posted to a fuckin’ destroyer, not the Staten Island fuckin’ ferry,” he pushed up his rack and bedroll to get at his sea box below, and began rooting through it with a vengeance, “Another, what, three weeks on a fucking convoy cruise?”

“Thirteen days there, and thirteen days back,” Svenson responded, “maybe a month if we need to slow things down, or if they have us looking after anything besides the kaiser-coffins.” The Minnesotan sailor was everything Levi was not, tall, blonde, and more placid than any of his home’s 10,000 lakes.

“Great! So at least we’ll be high-quality submarine targets with the CVEs.” Levi said, referring to the practically armorless escort carriers by their designation.

“Maybe they'll reassign us to Halsey or the Third Fleet when we get to Ulithi?” Kieran said, lifting his gaze towards Mosby. Besides Levi, Kieran Sullivan was the smallest sailor in their berthing. But, where the swarthy little New Yorker was mostly mouth and attitude, asking questions made Kieran’s stomach turn.

“Don’t seem likely,” Mosby said.

“Eh we can hope,” Fowler responded, “just once I’d like to see a little action.”

“Here. Here.” Svenson added.

“Hah. Action,” Levi said, grabbing a new set of socks, before slamming the box shut. “We can fuckin’ kiss that goodbye,” he tossed the socks over to Kieran, “Here Sully. Meet your new girlfriend for the next month. Be gentle,” he grinned, “She’s still tight.” Kieran blushed luridly, almost dropping them.

“Goddamn,” Mosby moaned, “Maybe they have liberty on Ulithi?”

“They have in Mogmog and a fair bit to drink if you know who to ask,” Svenson added, “But you'll be looking for mermaids if you want company,” he offered a lopsided smile, “Or marines.”

The group of sailors burst into laughter.

“Fuck. If I'd known I wasn’t gonna see a woman for more than a month, I would’a gone drinking with you two last week,” Levi said, inclining his head toward Fowler and Svenson.

“Missed a good time,” Fowler said, “Met some island girls, one of them was perfect for you Levi, she barely came up to my waist.”

“Fuck you Fowler,” he said grinning.

“Get in line, Chaim,” Fowler responded flashing a smile. The Californian's easy manner, and rugged cowboy looks always saw him going home with someone, at least as far as Kieran heard. But, he didn't follow the other guys to the clubs much. Watching too many of his uncles drown themselves in booze, kept him from joining the other sailors on the liberty benders, “I'd point her out to you next time we're in Pearl. But I'm afraid she's been taken by a Viking.”

“She was nice.” Svenson said with another lopsided smile.

“Poor girl’s still probably walking funny,” Fowler said and Kieran had to agree. He’d seen his ship mate in the showers enough. Svenson probably had the biggest cock on the ship.

“Cheer up Levi,” Mosby said, “You didn’t stand a chance anyway. Most girls want a man, not a hairy little chimp.”
“Give me a fuckin' break Mosby, I sure as shit know you didn't get any last week,”

“Yeah, that’s because it was the first time I’ve seen my brother since ‘41.”

“Excuses excuses, my hairy ass. If you struck out any more often, you’d be playing for the Red Sox,” he turned to Kieran, “No offense Sully, but your team sucks eggs.” Kieran only shrugged, despite living a few dozen miles from Boston, he didn't care much for baseball.

“Well,” Fowler said, “If you get desperate, I heard some of the guys on turret 54 talking. It appears the Flemming's got its very own boat fairy,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re shitting me,” Levi said.

Kieren blinked, “What's a boat fairy?”

“A sailor who's a pansy,” Svenson said, “Who's good for a helping hand or mouth to his fellow sailors.”

“That's fucking disgusting.” Mosby's lip curled.

“Hey, any port in a storm,” Fowler said, shrugging, “and in this case that port is apparently the third aft storage room.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Levi said, grinning, “sure you don't have something to tell us?”

“Only what I hear.”

“Yeah yeah. Tell you what, why don’t I just save us the trip down, and you can suck my cock here,” he said grabbing his crotch.

“With all that hair, it’ll save you some time on flossing,” Svenson added.

“Has anyone told the XO about this?” Mosby interrupted, “Or better yet we could all go down there and show that pervert–”

“All of us? Well Fowler, sounds like you've got a busy night.”

“Fuck you Levi, I'm not serving on a ship with a fucking degenerate.”

“Oh leave off it Mosby,” Fowler said, “As long as he’s throwing lead at the Japs, who gives a shit? And it doesn't sound like he is trying to get at anyone.”

“Yeah,” Levi said, “most of those types are harmless anyway, I got a cousin who is that way… wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I don’t know what kind of kike shit you people do in New York, but in South Carolina, we'd give that fag a proper–” Mosby’s head jerked back from Levi’s quick fist. With one hand grabbing at his nose, the Southerner stood and threw a haymaker in Levi’s direction. The shorter man ducked out of the way before landing a cross on the taller man’s chin.

“Yeah… tell me again what you’d do to my cousin.”

Mosby growled and threw himself bodily at Levi, but was caught by a long arm and pushed back into his bunk.

“Knock it off.” Svenson’s voice was a deep rumble, catching the eye of a group of sailors playing cards on the other side of the berth.

“He started–”

“Come on Forrest,” Fowler said, “Would you let anyone talk about hurting your brother?”

Mosby, sighed, “No.”

“We'll then how about we all just take a breath. One of the stewards owes me a favor and I think I’d like to cash that in for an extra cookie from lunch. Care to join me?”

Mosby glared at Levi, before shaking his head, turning to leave with Fowler.

“Don’t” Svenson said, his gaze suddenly stormy as a he stared down Levi.

The shorter man held up his hands and took a few deep breaths. Before cracking his knuckles, “Only man who’d wanna fuck that ugly bastard is Tojo,” he grumbled before storming away.

 

[TwilightGrey]

Despite the dust up, things among the sailors in Kieran’s section seemed to be back to normal by the next afternoon, as they rendevoused about twenty miles outside of Pearl. The USS Flemming had joined four other destroyers to escort a trio of CVEs packed to bursting with Avengers and Wildcats across the Pacific to the base on Ulithi Atoll. Despite their utility, even Kieran had to admit the little flat-tops were ugly awkward things compared to their larger Essex and Yorktown class fleet carrier sisters. But, at least they could move. Earlier in the year, they’d spent almost a month escorting marine transports which topped out at a paltry eleven knots. So, by the time Kieran joined Fowler, Levi, and their gruff bosun’s mate Whitby on the deck watch at 2200, the lights of Pearl Harbor were hundreds of miles behind them.

“Sullivan,” Whitby intoned, handing him the binoculars, “You’re up first,” he left them soon after to check on the next trio.

Kieran nodded, and stepped out towards the bulwark. Each of the deck watches had a particular part of sea or sky to watch for signs of enemies on the horizon. While at night, and largely due to radar, the need to keep an eye out for planes was low, there was still the impossible task of watching for the tell tale sign of a submarine in night-waters, or worse, an already loosed torpedo.

As Kieran kept his eyes on the horizon, Fowler and Levi chatted about the usual, which mostly meant sports, and the near endless paperwork they faced in their ‘free hours.’ He usually liked to listen, but tonight he focused on the white caps catching stray bits of moonlight for a sea blacker than pitch. Time ticked by and his mind wandered. What did they store down in the third aft storage room anyway?

“Sully. It’s 2320, ready to step down?” Kieran flinched, his reverie broken. He nodded, slowly wiping the binoculars before handing them over to Levi, and sunk down to join Fowler who sat on the deck.

“How are you not cold?” Fowler asked, gesturing to Kieran’s open jacket.

“We’re in the tropics.”

“It’s March. The wind’s gotta be eighteen knots at least, and you’re covered in spray.”

Kieran shrugged.

Levi snorted, binoculars making a slow arc of the horizon, “Fucking Californians. Sully’s a shoreman through and through. Compared to the Cape in August, this is balmy.”

“Not for me,” Fowler replied, shivering slightly, “Come here,” he said pulling Kieran closer, “We can keep warm a little easier.”

The feeling of the taller mans shoulders pressing down on him caused Kieran’s chest to flutter, though he wasn’t quite sure why. It felt good, even if only for a moment.

“You spend a lot of time aboard ships before joining up?”

Kieran nodded, “My dad’s a fisherman. Been on his boat most of my life.”

“How does it compare to this?”

“Eh, open water. Quieter. Different stars in the sky.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Kieran shrugged.

“He shrug again?” Levi asked.

“Yep.” Fowler grinned.

“That’s our Sully.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. Just keeping an eye on you, you remind me a little bit of my little brother. He’s a bit of a loner.”

“Way to be a patronizing fuck, Fowler. Aren’t you two both nineteen?”

“Shove it Chaim.”

“Show me where Bob. Show me where.”

Fowler rolled his eyes, “All I’m saying is, it wouldn’t hurt if you came out with us next time we’re back in Pearl.”

“Uh… I guess.”

“Come on, it’ll be a gas. Have a few drinks, meet a few girls.”

“Alright.”

“Maybe he’s got a girl at home, ever think of that?”

“I don’t… you don’t have a girl at home do you?”

Kieran shook his head.

“Well there you go, I know a fair number of broads who’d step over their own grandmas to get at a guy like you,” he winked, “You don’t gotta fuck ‘em if you don’t want. But… there’s something just nice about holding someone.”

“Christ Fowler, buy the kid a drink already.”

“Kid? Aren’t you twenty? Now who’s being the patronizing fuck?”

The pair continued to banter off and on until Whitby relieved them 0200 and the trio separated.

 

[TwilightGrey]

Kieran should have gone straight to the berthing compartment, but men coming off a dog watch were given a little leeway, and for some reason he couldn’t head back. Not yet. So instead he wandered, and before long he found himself standing in a dimly lit corridor on third deck.

Kieran bit his lip. He knew what was just down the corridor. He stared at the stark black letters stenciled on the hatch: 3 Aft Storeroom. This was crazy. What was he doing? Nobody was there. Of course not. For all he knew no one had ever been there and Fowler had made the whole thing up as a joke.

He shouldn’t go inside. If anyone found out… if anyone caught him…

Kieran’s pulse throbbed in his ears, overtaking the steady beat of the engine and whine of the flickering lights above. He took a deep breath and turned open the hatch, stepping over the high metal and into the store room, closing the door behind him.

Darkness.

His hands went for the switch at the side of the door. Nothing. No emergency lights, not even the leak of illumination from outside.

In the black, his ears played tricks on him. Was someone rustling around?

A hand gently brushed against the sleeve of his undress whites.

“Jesus!” Kieran yelped.

“Shhh,” the admonition was barely audible.

Fingers found his and led him stumbling towards across the storeroom. A hand rested on his shoulder, before pushing him back to lean against a bulkhead.

Unseen fingers ran down the front of his white cotton jumper, feeling the shape of his chest and belly. When they reached the waist of his trousers, Kieran shifted his weight uneasily. There was a soft rustle as the figure before him sank down, whether to a crouch or to kneel he didn’t know.

Tips of deliberate fingers ran across his belly as they traced across the waist of his trousers, finding the button fly. Kieran felt the pull on his pants, and slight tenting on his crouch as unseen fingers gingerly undid button, after button. The pants barely clung to his slighter frame, and with a soft tug, they fell to the floor.

The figure before him gently began to pull down the white cotton boxers, but stoped after a second’s resistance. As his waistband was pulled down and forward, Kieran felt his already growing erection pop free to smack against his taught stomach. When had he gotten hard?

He shivered. He was exposed, his cock and balls out in the darkness. Cool hands pressed against his hips and guided them forward. There was a soft inhalation, and warm breath against the tip of his cock.

A finger traced up the soft skin of his thigh before the man took Kieran’s balls in his hand and gave them the barest squeeze. Kieran sighed, and rocked his hips again. Balls held by one quickly warming hand, the man’s other hand now circled around his cock and gently began moving up and down. As his foreskin pulled forward, the hand around his cock grew sticky with precum. His next stroke pulled back Kieran’s foreskin, slicking up his shaft. Kieran released an uneven exhale.

A pair of soft moist lips planted a kiss on his hip. Another kiss was printed on his belly, and his now ticking cock rose towards hot breath and a slightly rough cheek. The fingers around his cock gave two more long strokes before pushing him down to open lips. Kieran moaned with the sensation of heat on his cock head.

The man’s breath tickled his red pubes as that warm mouth began to slowly advance down his shaft. One hand moved to hold his hip, while the other hand continued to slowly fondle his balls.

When lips met the base of him, Kieran’s hips swung forward, pushing him deeper. But soon the amazing warmth receded as the man blowing him pulled back up almost to the tip. The tongue, which had been stroking the underside of his shaft, swirled against the the tip of his cock, before sliding under his foreskin.

Kieran’s knees buckled, causing him to stagger, and for a moment he thought he would cum right then and there. But, the man never broke contact, continuing to swirl his tongue under the foreskin and his head, while lips moved up and down along his shaft.

Kieran wasn’t a virgin, in high school he’d had a few fumbling encounters with girls that mostly ended too soon. Rather than fucking, most of the catholic girls he knew kept things to blow jobs, but they were awkward toothy affairs. They barely felt good, and never got him close to cumming.

But, as the man before him used hands, lips, and tongue with practiced precision, Kieran was curling his toes just trying to hang out. Sparks were flooding the featureless black of his vision.

Kieran’s hands moved from his white knuckled grip of his shirt, downward to the exquisite work below. First fingertips brushed across a temple as the man bobbed up and down with intention, until he was able to lay a hand against a cheek.

The man abruptly stopped as Kieran’s hand ran a thumb over bare stubble and a well defined jaw. Frozen like a deer in a clearing, the man held statute still as the back of Kieran’s hand pushed along his cheek bone. Kieran stroked his other hand through short hair.

The sudden lack of heat, the lack of motion, was like being pushed out into the cold without a jacket. Kieran shivered, his skin was raw, “please,” Kieran whispered.

Like the great engines of the Flemming being sparked back to life, the man began to move slowly, fingers first sliding, before his mouth closed back around him, and his tongue began to swirl.

The sensation built up like a wave, and Kieran bit his lips to keep from moaning, but it was no use, “I’m, I’m—”

A sticky hand clamped over his mouth, as the sudden raw exposure returned. Kieran wanted to protest, but his ears, granted that extra acuity by deprived sight and a teenage guilt, suddenly heard what brought things to a stop. There was someone in the hall.

Before Kieran had time enough to react, to even pull up his pants, an arm wrapped around him, and dragged him partially off his feet.

He was pulled a few steps away, his knee knocking against the wood of a crate, and left to shakily stand on his own. But, before he could tip over, the man stood up behind him and pulled Kieran bodily against him. One arm wrapped over his chest, the other firmly clamped over his mouth.

The hatch opened with a dull wail, as light ripped into the darkness, bringing tears to his eyes. A blurry figure stood at the doorway.

“Goddamned lightswitch.”

Kieran’s heart bounced from the study drum of pleasure to a haphazard wrapping of fear. The figure at the door made a few more half-hearted attempts to turn the light, before taking a step into the room.

He took a step and promptly bashed his shin on a crate, that while invisible to the man, stood out starkly to Kieran.

“Ow! For fuck’s sake!” he groaned.

The figure made a growl of frustration before staggering back out of the storeroom slamming the hatch shut behind him. Blanketing the room in darkness again.

For long seconds the man behind him held Kieran tightly against him. Kieran’s head was pressed against a broad chest wearing a cotton shirt. A rapid pulse drummed against his ear, and Kieran’s head rose with the man’s quick breaths, which he matched instinctively.

Despite his body dumping adrenaline into his bloodstream like an overturned keg during prohibition, the warmth, pressure, and feeling of a man’s arms wrapped around him felt…

Kiearn sighed into the man’s palm and nuzzled against the man’s chest.

Fingers released his mouth, but he was still held firmly in the man’s embrace. The man was taller than he was. (Who wasn’t?) And despite heavy cotton trousers, Kieran could feel a sizeable erection pressing into the bare skin of his lower back. Kieran’s hips twitched briefly pressing his bare ass against the unknown man. The man let out a rough exhale across the shell of Kieran’s ear.

“You have to go,” the man whispered, lips less than inch from Kieran’s ear, “I’ll be back on Thursday. We can finish what we started.”

Kieran could only nod dumbly and tried not to tip over as the man released him. At some point his knees had gone to absolute putty. The man seemed to fade into the darkness behind him.

With the last of his strength, Kieran tugged up his pants and drunkenly ambled off back to the berth, hoping against hope that nobody saw him, nor noticed the absolute wreck he made of his trousers.

 

[TK2219]

Great story so far!

 

[TwilightGrey]

Chapter 2

The morning hubbub and the low grumble of one of the boatswain's mates coaxing stragglers pulled Kieran back to the waking world. Blearily he started to sit up, but a hand caught him on the shoulder before pulling him back down.

"Got another hour, member?" Fowler croaked from the rack next to his. The Californian was facing Kieran, but his eyes were still slitted.

Kieran yawned and lay back, somehow he always forgot that the section always got an extra hour by way apology for the first watch. Granted, sleeping till 0500 wasn't much of a luxury, particularly when a gaggle of men were loudly shuffling by him in various states of undress to the head.

"Where were you?" Fowler's voice remained low.

"Huh?"

"Didn't get back for a bit. Thought you decided to go for a swim." Even half-awake, Fowler lazily smiled at his own stupid joke.

Kieran shrugged, causing the wire rack to creak, "just wanted to be alone."

"Well next time, give Rosy Palm a little of that alone time before hitting the rack. You look like a Jap cruiser over there."

Kieran blinked, before looking down. His body had pinned his flimsy sheet tight, pointing his morning wood straight up like the pagoda mast on some of the older Japanese ships. Face coloring, he immediately rolled to the side, and pulled the sheets loose.

Fowler chuckled, before rolling onto his back and start snoring immediately.

Kieran was unable to join him. As sleep cleared, the details of the night before were coming back into focus. Despite the hot air, his skin prickled with goosebumps. What had gotten into him? He'd never been sex-crazed in his entire life, but he'd snuck below decks to get sucked off. By a man. By a fellow sailor!

He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach roiled. He must have gone mad. Even suspicion of being a fairy would earn him a blue discharge, getting caught underway and with a fellow sailor, it could be much, much worse.

So why was it, that when he tried to imagine those dire outcomes, all he could think of was a sharp chin with new stubble, a warm mouth, and how he'd never felt more right when the man below decks had held him? All he could think about was finishing what they started in two days. If anything, his erection had only gotten worse.

Eventually, the sailors on first watch rose, and joined the ships already frenzied activity. Despite being March, the bright tropical sun was winning the day, and some of the sailors consigned to mopping the steel decks were already doffing covers and loosening shirts. Kieran's eyes wandered to exposed chests with an occasional peek of chest hair. On realizing what he was doing, he made a study of the Flemming's superstructure, which was still overhung with drying lines like a tenement alley. All of the bigger ships, and even most of the new Fletcher class destroyers had some laundry services, but here on the Flemming, they still had to do the washing by hand, and wind up the tight drying lines to be stored later.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Whitby found Kieran with Fowler, Mosby, and Svenson, as they finished the last bit of 'bright work,' the endless labor to fight corrosion on the deck's exposed metalwork.

"Sir,?" despite Whitby's introduction, Mosby's only had raised eyebrows. Bad news made for good gossip.

"Just got word from Lt. Hamish, we're going to be doing a close pass of the Anzio later this afternoon during targeting drills, and the Captain wants the ship looking its finest."

"Bright work's all but finished sir, please feel free to inspect," Fowler added.

"Thank you Sailor, and I will," Whitby lifted his chin, revealing stubble. Had he just forgotten to shave that morning, or had he always had that shadow? "But unfortunately, once you are done with this, we need you up on the funnels and superstructure chipping paint."

"Aw hell," Mosby deflated, before straightening, "I mean, yes sir."

Whitby rolled his eyes, "I know shit work when I give it. There's some harnesses in the box on the port side, you'll need them to get high spots. I'll have a look at 1500."

Chipping paint was laborious, smelly, and got everywhere. The group made decently fast work of the main deck superstructure without needing to get ladders, but the upper decks and bases to the funnels needed some of them to go up in a harness and riggings.

"Absolutely not," Svenson said when they pulled the pair of them out of the deck box.

"How can someone so dang tall be afraid of heights?" Mosby countered.

"I am not afraid, I just don't like them."

"Well I sure as hell ain't doing it. If I wanted to climb mountains I'd've joined the army to fight in Europe."

"I'll do it," Kieran said, offering his usual shrug.

"Really, aren't you worried..." Mosby offered.

"I used to help my dad with some of the nets, I'm used to it," besides, he said stepping into the harness, "It'll be easier for you to pull me up."

"Well if Sully's doing it, I'm doing it too," Fowler added brightly.

After some bucking the pair of them in, with Kieran giving additional recommendations on knots, it was Svenson who spoke first, "Are they... supposed to look like that?"

"Oh you mean lifting my junk up like it's on display?" Fowler responded grinning and motioning to his crotch.

"Well... yeah."

"Dunno. Sully? Am I supposed to look like one of the girls in the Follies?"

Kieran shrugged, he'd had less experience with this as he usually scampered up the rigging of his father's ship free-handed. But, one of his brothers had worked in construction in the newly rising Boston skyline, and this seemed to match. Though he didn't remember his brother looking so... bulgy. He swallowed, "Lets head up. There's a lot to cover."

Kieran bounded up the ladder, trying to ignore the increased tightness in his now-restricted pants. Eventually he found the bar that let him swing out, and clipped on, lowering the rope for Mosby to catch and keep tension.

"Has anyone ever told you, you have a great ass?"

Kieran flinched, and almost lost his grip, "I'm sorry?" he said coughing.

Fowler laughed, pulling himself up beside Kieran and clipping on, "The harness is really showing off your assets. Didn't expect a little guy like you to have quite the bubble," he dropped his rope down to Svenson, "I bet the girls are lining up to grab a handful. I know they're always going in for a pinch with me."

"Uh..."

"Relax Sully! Just trying to lighten the mood," he said flashing another grin, "This work is shit, and the seas are getting pretty rough. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be up here swinging all day like a goddamn yo-yo."

Kieran looked away, and pushed himself out over the side, catching his boots on the metal, and side stepping his way across. He did not need to be having this conversation.

Fowler followed, but one of his feet slipped, and it took him a moment to right himself before he started crab-walking slowly, "Christ, it's windy up here!" the pair started up with their scraping tools.

As they worked, Fowler managed to carry the conversation almost single-handedly, occasionally getting the usual short responses from Kieran. While it was hard not to like him, the man was rarely quiet, and he was also absolutely right about both himself and the harness. The harness framed his pert ass to great effect.

Kieran blinked. Since when did he care about other guys so much? It wasn't like he never noticed when a man was built, or particularly well proportioned. Everyone noticed stuff like that. But something seemed different. He wondered if the man down below had an ass like Fowler's ass-- strong and muscular, or if it was round and soft. He shook his head. It was probably just the paint and heat. After a few hours, Kieran and Fowler repelled down to find a Whitby, his were lips pursed together.

"How long have you apes been up there?"

"Dunno sir, but she looks pretty swell from where I'm standing."

"Its 1458, they are going to sound the drill any minute now. You're right in front of turret 44, clear this deck, before you get blown off it."

Having no time to doff the harnesses, the men ran down to the main deck as the loud speaker and whistle announced the drill. With their work done, they didn't have anywhere to be specifically, as their usual station had been reassigned that morning so they could work on the paint chipping.

While Kieran had seen drills from the main deck before, it still awed him as the big five inch turrets flipped and turned as one toward the west.

As if on cue, a group of Wildcats and Avengers, that had launched from the Anzio earlier in the day, came streaking out of the clouds in their direction, before dropping low. They were still far enough out to be silenced by the ocean and ship engines, but soon enough Kieran would hear their howl.

"Do you see them?" Svenson called, a hand over his eyes.

"No," Mosby answered.

"About 300, off starboard, maybe 25 off the horizon, headed straight for us." Kieran answered quietly, pointing in their direction.

"Some baby blues," Fowler answered with a low whistle.

As the fighters and bombers approached, Kieran could see at least three of them were towing gliders of fabric and light wood. Around 2,000 yards out, the Avengers released their gliders before lifting up and away. The gliders continued on their course for some time, heading towards them, as if on a bombing run. A moment later the Wildcats broke off, which apparently was the signal to fire, because all hell broke loose on the Flemming. The big turrets rose filling the air with black puffs, as the half dozen oerlikon 20mm anti aircraft guns painted long streams of tracers.

"Wouldn't want to be a Zero right about now," Svenson said as the first glider caught a starshell and was ripped apart.

Since nobody had told them otherwise, they stayed to watch the show. The first wave was ripped apart, but the heaving seas and higher winds blew the second wave of gliders in erratic angles that were difficult for the guns to track. The gunnery crews missed at least two gliders, which ended their runs in the drink. Kieran knew, heavy waves or no, missing the targets like that would earn them an ear lashing from the gunnery chief.

The Flemming heaved starboard, turning into the waves as spray and salt rolled over the deck. A chorus of profanity erupted behind him as Svenson and Mosby were knocked to their asses, and Fowler barely manages to stay up by clinging to an exposed pipe. Kieran only spared them a quick look to make sure they hadn't moved too far.

On the fourth wave, things went horribly wrong, just as one of the Avengers released a glider, a heavy gust threw the contraption high directly into the prop of one of the Wildcats. There was a tremendous shriek of metal, as the little fighter spun around trailing smoke. It clipped another member of its flight wing, sending its companion on a suddenly too deep dive.

"SHIT! It's headed right for us!" Fowler shouted.

Klaxons sounded the call for evasive maneuvers on the Flemming, and the destroyer attempted to turn out of the way. But now the ship was parallel to the great tossing waves, and the deck pitched violently.

"MOSB--" Svenson shouted before the pair of them were hurled into the superstructure and knocked flat. The taller man clung onto the Southerner hooking another arm onto a stanchion.

One of the oerlikon gunners a deck below wasn't so lucky, a wave had thrown him from his feet and slammed him into the massive ammo box behind the anti-aircraft gun. He lay limp on the deck, before another change in angle caused him to slide to the edge away from the gun crew scrambling to grab him.

Kieran entire body went rigid for a moment before he turned to Fowler who had managed to keep himself up, by wedging himself against one of the deck boxes.

"Fowler, open the box and toss me the drying line!"

Fowler didn't hesitate, and Kieran caught the line as he dashed past him. He dove between the lines and boxes on the catwalk, rolling onto the main deck. With one hand he secured the drying line to his harness, and then tied to quick bowline to the handle of a nearby hatch. All of this just in time to throw himself on top of the sliding sailor's body. Kieran shouted, jamming a boot into the deck metal, anything to to keep him from going over.

The ship pitched again, and freezing ocean water soaked through his sweaty frame, Kieran shudder, holding firm to the unconscious sailor. But, the sudden change in angle was too much, and Kieran lost his foothold and the pair went sliding down the deck. Before he smashed into one of the gun houses the line went taught, and Kieran heaved a sigh.

A heartbeat later, another massive wave pushed the destroyer to move in the opposite direction and with a terrible snapping sound, Kieran's stomach churned as he and the sailor went hurtling toward the edge of the ship. And then they were over.

The pair were in free fall, but Kieran still clung to the unconscious sailor. If they survived the plunge maybe he could keep them both alive. But before he could scream, his entire body wrenched as the rope above went taught. Swinging through the air, Kieran kicked out a foot to keep from being smashed into the hull of the ship, the pain of the impact to his foot made his vision swim.

"HELP ME PULL!" a voice screamed from above, and the now dangling pair were slowly pulled forward as man overboard sirens wailed in the distance.

After what seemed like an eternity of swinging back and forth, a hand fisted his shirt and dragged him over the top into a gasping embrace.

"I got you. I got you," a man said over and over between gulping breaths.

Kieran finally raised his head to meet the intense gaze of a tanned sailor with dark eyes.

The world went dark.

 

[TwilightGrey]

Chapter 3

Kieran cracked an eye open, he was laying in a cot without pants. His legs were elevated and one of his feet was tightly wrapped in bandages. His entire body ached, and when he shifted, his foot throbbed something fierce. He was in the medical storeroom, a light glowed on wall beside him, but its harsh glare was muffled by gauze. There was a cot a few steps away from where another sailor lay, his head was tightly wrapped and Kieran could make out dark stained bandages in the dim light. At the other side of the small cabin, beside a stack of boxes, another sailor sat in a chair, his head tipped back. He was snoring softly.

At first Kieran guessed him for a pharmacist's mate, probably keeping an eye on him. He cleared his throat, but before he called to out to let him know he'd woken up, he noticed his rate badge lacked the red cross. The sleeping man wore the crossed cannons of a gunner's mate second class. His hands were bandaged.

Dark eyes. The man who had saved his life.

The man was tan, even in the dim light, Kieran could see long eyelashes, an aquiline nose, and full lips partially open. The man's cover was sitting in his lap, clutched tightly by one of his bandaged hands, leaving his head bare. His hair was close cut, but not so short to hide the beginnings of black curls. Kieran watched as his chest rose and fell slowly. He hadn't paid too much attention in school, even before the navy, he'd known he'd spend his life on a ship and not behind a desk. But, the man's peaceful smooth expression, fine features, and even the stubble that painted his cheeks, brought back memories of staring at Renaissance paintings on school trips to the museum.

The man's eyes snapped open, immediately fixing on Kieran. Full lips spread into a smile, "You're awake," the man said quietly.

Kieran nodded, only just realizing he had sat up and forward to study the man. Why had he done that?

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm--" he lost his speech to a gale of coughing.

The GM immediately sprung to his feet and rushed over, "Do I need to call the doc?"

"No," Kieran managed between coughs, "Water."

The man nodded, dark eyes wide, and grabbed a canteen sitting on one of the stacks of boxes. Rather than offer it to Kieran, he sat down beside him, threw an arm around him, and held the canteen to his lips.

Kieran took a hesitant sip, before nodding and promptly dissolving into another coughing fit.

"Deep breaths," the man said rubbing his back, and offering him another sip.

Kieran sighed relaxing into the man, "Thanks."

"Sure you don't want me to call the doc?"

Kieran nodded again, "I'm fine, mouth was dry."

"It's the morphine," at Kieran's expression the man continued, "Gave you a shot after you went unconscious. The doc says you dislocated three of your toes, and probably wrenched half the joints in your body."

"You can dislocate toes?"

The man shrugged, "Never heard of it either. But the sound of you hitting the hull was loud enough to hear topside.That'll dislocate something if anything can."

"What about..." Kieran said looking over to the other cot.

The man swallowed, "Peters has a fractured skull, and a concussion. He woke up for a bit, but they pumped him full, and he's been out every since. Gonna transfer him to the Anzio tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," Kieran looked away.

"Sorry? What do you got to be sorry for? The only reason Peters is still breathing is because of you. XO said you're gonna get a medal."

Kieran flinched at the thought of standing up on deck with everyone staring at him. He pushed the sudden flare of nausea away, turning back to the GM, "What about you?"

"Me?"

Kieran placed a hand over the man's bandaged hand, his fingers were warm, and Kieran's skin buzzed, "You saved us both."

The man chewed his bottom lip. He had lips that'd make most girls jealous, "Yeah. He said I'm probably getting a commendation... the whole gun team probably will. It was..."

"Thank you," Kieran said, giving the man's hand a squeeze.

"Shit. I should be thanking you. You saved one of my sailors. Besides," he said shooting Kieran a smile that set his heart drumming, "Peters' got a girl at home. She's a mean baker. We'll probably spend the rest of the war knee deep in cookies when he gets home."

Home. While it was better than the alternative, getting sent back to the stifling little house by the sea wasn't high on Kieran's goals.

"What's your name anyway? Gotta let Betty know it might be a while before Peters writes her back."

"Kieran, Kieran Sullivan. But most people call me Sully."

Hand still in his, the sailor gave him a strong handshake, "I'm Francesco Orsini, but call me Frank." Frank smiled again, before standing, "I should probably let somebody know you're awake. No," he pressed a hand into Kieran's shoulder, "Don't try to get up. Your foot's busted, remember? And you're not exactly wearing pants," he winked, "See you around Kieran."

They stuck Kieran on sick call. And even though he could walk without much pain after a day, he was mostly confined to the medical storeroom with a stack of paperwork to occupy him. The guys in the berth came to visit twice. They were all smiles and congratulations, but Fowler was quieter than usual. Much to Kieran's disappointment Frank didn't stop by.

By Thursday evening Kieran was getting more than a little stir crazy. As he heard the shifts change to first watch, his nerves jangled and his gaze kept falling towards the door. He wasn't restricted to storeroom per se, but after lights out, he'd probably get a dressing down if they caught him out and about.

Around 0100, he couldn't take it any more. He got up and hobbled his way to the head. After lights-out when sailing into a warzone, all external lights were extinguished and light was kept to a minimum. The halls were empty.There were more than 200 men on the Flemming, and Kieran saw not a soul.

He shouldn't do this. He knew he shouldn't do this. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn't do this. But, Kieran eased himself down a ladder, and then another onto third deck, and made his way aft.

The storeroom hatch was closed, and the sound of the crank thundered in his ears when he turned it. Dim light spilled into darkness, but nobody was there. Kieran held the hatch, feeling its weight. He took one look down each side of the hallway, before taking a deep breath and stepping in. When the hatch closed behind him, the room returned to pitch.

"You made it," the whisper was at the edge of his hearing.

Shuffling steps and the creak of crate signaled the man's approach, an arm was placed on his shoulder. Kieran swallowed, heart already thundering, and let himself be led deeper into the storeroom.

After a few hesitant steps, including a turn that made him rely on the unseen sailor more as crutch then guide, he was slowly eased to sit down against a crate against the wall.

"Sorry I..."

"No sorries," a finger rested against his lips, before briefly stroking his cheek. Another hand went flat on his chest and pushed him back. Kieran sighed as fingers slid into his trousers and pulled them down and off. The man took special care with his still bandaged foot.

Ass bare on the rough wood of the crates, Kieran's knees where pushed apart as the man situated himself between his legs. Hot breath warmed his inner thigh and, despite the darkness, Kieran felt deeply exposed.

Fingers traced over his legs, circled around his cock, and the man pushed his shirt up. For a brief panicked moment, Kieran thought the man was going to undress him completely. But the man leaned in and rough stubble grazed his chest.

Kieran jumped a bit as he felt the heat of a tongue on his nipple, which the man only took as invitation. Kisses blossomed across his chest as the man slowly traced the contours of Kieran's chest and belly with his lips.

The man's tongue on his pecs made his hips jostle, and his now fully hard cock left lines of precum across the rough fabric of the man's uniform. The man gave the gentlest bite to one of his nipples, and Kieran moaned. He'd tried this with a few girls, but he'd never imagined them returning the favor. The surge of sensation curled his toes.

As the man continued to work on his chest, Kieran reached for his cock. But, the man grabbed his wrist and pulled him away.

"Please," Kieran whispered.

There was a soft chuckle, then all at once, Kieran's cock was engulfed in warmth. With his free hand he covered his mouth to stifle the groan. The man slid down his cock with expert care, before rising and starting up a rhythm. A hand came up and lifted Kieran's balls up from the edge of the crate, and the began to roll them in his fingers.

Kieran's head was back against the metal, gasping as waves of pleasure rolled through him. They had only just started but he was already getting close. The man released his hand and, after running fingers through short cropped hair, Kieran brought a hand up to his chest. He squeezed one his nipples, first gently, and then with a little more force.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, as the nerves lit up across his chest and down to his cock.

The man gave a soft hum of approval, before wrapping strong hands under Kieran's thighs and pulling them up. Kieran was too lost to sensation to recognize what exactly was happening. His eyes widened, when the man rested one of Kieran's legs on a wide shoulder and began to lick his balls.

First one, then both entered the man's mouth and Kieran melted. The man was jerking him off as he sucked on Kieran's balls with increasing pull. His hand was careful. The man worked him slowly, occasionally running a sticky thumb across the underside of his leaking cock. Sparks and colors erupted across firmly shut eyes.

At first he barely noticed it, just one sensation among many, but the man's finger tip, slicked with saliva and Kieran's precum started teasing his ass. It was a tickle at first, but Kieran's eyes shot open when a finger slid in.

Kieran twitched, unsure if the sudden intrusion was something he was enjoying. But, he'd come this far. He wanted to go further.

The finger slid in deeper, and the angle changed and a line of pure pleasure shot between his cock and hole. Kieran groaned, and bit his lip to keep from screaming. He shuddered.

He came with such incredibly force he almost fell off the crate. Somehow in the first fevered moments of his ejaculation, the man had returned to sucking on his cock. He greedily took everything Kieran gave him. But, it didn't stop.

Kieran's shuddering pushed him onto the man's finger and it set him off again. For seconds that stretched he was caught in waves of pleasure, and ground down onto the man's finger, until he was absolutely worn out. His body went limp, sliding off the man's shoulders, he lay there gasping.

"I... that was... you are..."

The man leaned forward, gently running a finger over Kieran's chest. Kieran wasn't sure if he could see it or if he just sensed it on some deeper level. But the man was smiling. He gave Kieran's cock a slow pull, and the dregs of his cum spilled onto his belly.

A different sort of warmth spread over Kieran. He was satisfied in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been. But he needed more.

Kieran reached out and grabbed the man's shirt and pulled him down onto his near prone body. For a moment the man resisted, but when no assault came he laid himself down on Kieran. The press of warmth and weight against him was intoxicating.

Feeling warm breath on his face, Kieran leaned up and met sticky wet lips with his own. The man gave another jerk of surprise but didn't fight him, falling into the kiss. Kieran's held him there, feeling the rough of stubble on his cheek, only breaking away to kiss down the line of the man's jaw. The man gave a rumbling sigh, before turning to kiss Kieran with gusto.

Lips wide, Kieran felt a tongue against his. That damn tongue! Salt filled his mouth. The taste of his own cum. Kieran splayed one hand across the man's chest, and the other he threw around the man's back. The man wrapped arms around him, Kieran found himself blinking back tears.

They held each other just kissing and feeling the occasional hot sigh rush over their cheeks. Eventually the man released him and laid him down gingerly.

"You are something else." He whispered, before rising and walking to the door. The sudden flash of light blinded Kieran to the last thing he desperately wanted, to know who this man was.

Plunged back into darkness Kieran sniffed and realized he was crying.

 

[Aphan2]

Whelp...that last chapter did it.
I'm hooked.

 

[fitguy1]

Oh, this is great stuff!!

 

[bigun8]

Great story. Keep going!

 

[TK2219]

Hope you didn't give up on this story

 

[grumpykit]

You write better than 90% of m/m releases on goodreads these days.
Thank you for sharing, and so sorry it isn't finished..

J.F. Smith's "Latakia" is the only book on par with the quality of this story, in case any of the readers might decide to read, while waiting for this to get finished.