Boys of Aurora

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is coincidental. The venue is fictional and any resemblance to actual bases and/or locations, is coincidental.

This story takes place in 1976 Canada and reflects the mores, traditions, customs, etc., of the times. I urge all of those who read this story to remember that what is "politically correct" today, was not thought of back then. If you are Lib-Left, politically correct and have jumped on the bandwagons of whatever causes are the fads of the month, please do not continue past this point. This also applies the so-called "Religious" Right and "Moral" Majority. I respectfully remind you that the "Good Book" also contains proscriptions, restrictions, do's and don'ts that I don't see or hear any of you thumping bibles about. Write me, I'll be glad to give you some excellent web sites. To all the anti-this and anti-that, Bible Thumpers, Libertarians and the ACLU, the bankrupt and increasingly irrelevant United Nations, please do not send me e-mails espousing whatever cause you're touting. I have no time for claptrap.

As this work contains scenes of explicit sexual acts of a homosexual nature, if such erotica offends you, please move on to a tamer site. If your mainstay in life is Bible-thumping cant, please move on. If you are not of legal age to read, possess or download writings of an erotic nature, or if possession, reading, etc., is illegal where you live, please move on.

This story is written in an age without worry, and as such unprotected sex is practiced exclusively. I urge all of you to NEVER engage in sexual acts without proper protection. The life you save will be your own.

I will respond to all e-mails (except flames). Please contact me at paradegi@rogers.com

The Boys Of Aurora: Chapter 16

Their lovemaking had been deep, passionate and satisfying to them both. The Phantom had never felt so fulfilled. The Gunner, as always gentle, had taken the boy to dizzying heights of passion. The Phantom, his hot blood cleansed of guilt, his love so intense, the fire that burned in him blazing, had filled The Gunner with his lusty youth, his lovemaking so forceful and wonderful that The Gunner had groaned in wild ecstasy as the teenager reached his climax, filling the man with strong, thick pulses of his life fluid, thrusting and thrusting until he was exhausted, collapsing onto the man he would never leave.

They clung together, encapsulated in an invisible aura of exquisite pleasure, oblivious to the rain that muffled their cries of joy. The Phantom lay on his Gunner, his face buried in The Gunner's flushed and heated neck, weeping softly, his arms tightly grasping The Gunner. "Why are your crying, my Phantom?" asked The Gunner in a soft whisper.

The Phantom raised his head and wiped away the tears that stained his face. He pulled away then leaned down and his lips found The Gunner's. They kissed as only two men deeply in love can kiss and when their lips parted The Phantom flashed a wonderful, glorious smile. He rolled slightly and their bodies were no longer one. "I'm crying because I love you. I am crying because I hurt you," he replied, his glorious, green eyes sparkling. "I'm crying because I cannot run naked in the rain, screaming and jumping, telling the world how FUCKING WONDERFUL you are!"

"Please do not do that," replied The Gunner in mock horror.

The Phantom snuggled close. "Why? It's the way I feel."

The Gunner chuckled. "Well, although we are on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, a buck-naked Phantom running through the north woods shouting his ode to joy might just attract attention."

"Whose?" asked The Phantom. "The Mounties don't come near this road because they say the MPs should patrol it. The MPs do not patrol it because it's outside the base and not their jurisdiction." Mischievously he licked The Gunner's left nipple. "And the Comox Police are too busy rousting the poor guys at Harkness Bay to bother." He licked The Gunner's other nipple. "Except for the odd deer or moose there is nothing around here."

"Yeah? Never heard of homosexual squirrels?" asked The Gunner with a snort. Then he started to laugh. "Now they would be interested."

The Phantom stopped his licking and glared at The Gunner. He got the implication. "Just you wait," said The Phantom with a giggle. "This time next week you will be the one worrying about squirrels!"

"I will?"

"Uh huh."

The Gunner stirred uneasily. Phantom could be so damned obtuse when he wanted to be. "Are you going to tell me why, and where, I am going to have to start worrying about squirrels?"

The Phantom laid his head on The Gunner's broad chest and his fingers played with the small forest of hair nestled in the centre of the man's chest. "On the Pacific side of the island, when we're camping." He replied. There are lots of little critters on that side of the island who just love little gunners' nuts."

Fortunately it was so dark that The Phantom did not see The Gunner pale and make a face. "God," he thought, "I forgot all about the camping." He turned, thinking quickly. "I have not spoken to your parents yet, Phantom. They might not approve of you running off to the backwoods with me."

The Phantom shook his head. "All taken care of. My folks think that you don't want me to go with you so on Thursday night you are coming over for supper and my Mom is going to talk you into it." He sat up abruptly. There was barely enough room on the back seat for the two of them and he could feel the cool breeze from the slightly opened front window blowing across his ass. "Try to look surprised."

The Gunner looked into The Phantom's bright green eyes and his resolve not to go camping melted. Visions of pleasant evenings spent in a comfortable B & B faded. "Got it all figured out, have you?"

The Phantom grinned. "Sure have. And you have nobody to thank but yourself."

"Pardon?"

"Well, I took a leaf out of your book. Sit up Stevie, please. My bum's cold."

The Gunner chuckled and sat up. The Phantom immediately straddled and sat in The Gunner's lap, facing him, his low-hanging balls resting on top of the Gunner's soft, warm genitals. "Better?" asked The Gunner.

"Much," The Phantom replied. Then he added, snickering, "Jeez, you have a warm dick."

"Phantom, the camping trip?"

The Phantom, who hoped for a little more of what they had just experienced, ground his hips in The Gunner's crotch. "I told my Mom that you were talking about going camping . . ." began The Phantom. He told The Gunner every detail of how he had manoeuvred his mother into thinking that he was not wanted on this particular voyage and how she had decided that he was going. Then he reached down and fisted The Gunner's once again hard penis.

The Gunner groaned loudly as The Phantom's hardon was pressed against his. The Phantom held both their erections and began to pump slowly. "Phantom, if you keep that up you know what is going to happen."

"Yup!" The Phantom pumped a little faster. He leaned forward and his lips met The Gunner's.

The Gunner wrapped his arms around The Phantom's smooth, slim body. The Phantom's deft touch was electrifying. He moaned softly and he began to thrust his hips upward, matching his movements to The Phantom's rhythmic pumping. Their lips never parted and their moans of indescribable pleasure grew louder as together they approached the summit. The Gunner was the first to explode. Within seconds The Phantom whimpered and then his sperm was mingling with The Gunner's. As they continued to spurt load after load The Phantom's hand continued to pump, coating their erections liberally with their fluids.

The Gunner, his inflamed mushroom head screaming for release, pushed The Phantom away. "No more, Phantom, no more!" gasped The Gunner. He lay back, panting, breathing through his nose, his mouth ajar. "Jesus, Phantom!"

The Phantom, legs spread, lay against the far corner of the car seat. His penis, still iron hard, was coated with the sticky fluids of their lust. He rubbed his reddened glans, frankly enjoying the pain and pleasure that his fingers sent coursing through his groin, a smile of smug satisfaction creasing his face.

With the greatest reluctance The Phantom pushed open the car door and looked into the fine drizzle of rain that continued to come down. "It's still raining," he whined.

The Gunner pushed open the door on his side of the car and got out. He leaned forward, his hind end bare to the elements. "Phantom, we have to go. It's late and I have to get you home. Now get out of the car and get some clothes on."

"I'm not going home," replied The Phantom. He left the car and stood beside it, stretching, and pushing his hips forward so that the light rain sprinkled gently against his soft genitals. "This doesn't feel all that bad," he said with a grin.

"Don't get used to it," returned The Gunner. He had been absorbed in finding his trousers and shirt and had only half heard what The Phantom had said. He quickly slipped his shirt over his shoulders and as he stepped into his mud-encrusted trousers he looked up and saw the Phantom slowly drawing his gunshirt down. The boy had a huge, silly grin on his face. "What?"

"You did not hear a word I said, did you?" asked The Phantom. He reached into the car and found his bell-bottoms. He stepped into the trousers, pulled them up and zipped them closed. "I said that I wasn't going home." The Phantom grimaced. The rough serge of his bells was chafing his tackle. Like The Gunner, he had not bothered with his underpants.

"Which means?" asked The Gunner as they got back into the car.

"Jesus, I am soaked through," complained The Phantom. "And these pants are ripping my balls to shreds." He turned and grinned at The Gunner. "I told my folks that I was thinking about staying over at AURORA. I've thought about it but I think I will stay elsewhere."

"Oh, you will, will you?" The Gunner turned on the ignition and backed the Land Rover down the logging road and onto the empty highway. He put the car in gear and they drove on toward the town of Comox. "May I ask just where you plan to sleep, or do I know where you plan to stay?"

The Phantom grinned widely. "Well, I could stay with the Twins, but they would just get horny and want to do nasty things to me."

The Gunner snorted. "More the other way around, if you ask me!"

"I didn't ask," replied The Phantom coolly. He stuck his tongue out at The Gunner, who laughed and shook his head. The Phantom scratched his chin, pretending to think. "Then again, I could stay in the Cooks Barrack but Ray is there, and he's always horny."

The Gunner cleared his throat. "Perhaps, given the circumstances, we should not go near there?"

The Phantom stared evenly at his lover. "I told you about Ray. I have never lied to you about how I felt about Ray! I have never lied to him about how I feel about you. You can't be jealous of him."

"I am," replied The Gunner, his voice low. "I know how you feel, and I meant what I said earlier. Ray is now, and always will be, my greatest rival."

"Well, you still can't be jealous of him," snapped The Phantom. "If you had any reason to be jealous I would not be going to your apartment!"

"What?"

"I am spending the next four nights with you. I packed extra gear. It's in the back."

The Gunner shook his head and smiled. "You have everything worked out, then?"

"Of course," replied The Phantom without a trace of smugness. "I learned from the Master." He grinned at The Gunner. "I planted the germ of an idea in my Mother's head. She picked up on it, and now, as far as she is concerned, I am going camping with you. I told my parents that I was thinking of staying over at AURORA . . ."

The Gunner held up his hand. "I get the idea. They filled in the blanks."

"Yes. It was easy. I didn't like doing it, but . . ."

"It was necessary," finished The Gunner. "You quibbled, and got away with it."

"Come on, Gunner!" The Phantom rounded on his lover. "It's what we have to do! If we didn't, we'd never survive!"

The Gunner nodded his agreement, a sad look on his face. "I know. I wish it wasn't so, but it is."

"Damn straight!" The Phantom glared out of the windshield at the lights of Comox far ahead, hazy in the rain-filled night. "We both live in small worlds. Yours is the Navy, mine is Comox. We have to lie, and stretch the truth just to exist. It's a fact of gay life."

"And Little Big Man?"

"Little Big Man is my enemy," hissed The Phantom with all the hatred he could muster. "He started the war, not me."

"And when you are finished with him?"

The Phantom smiled grimly. "When Little Big Man leaves AURORA he will know that he his gay. He will also know never to fuck around with a Pissed-Off Queer!"

Cory stared morosely out of the Gunroom door, scowling at the rain that continued to fall. He could hear the sounds of the party that had been going on in the Chiefs Mess since this afternoon. The boys were not rowdy, but they were enjoying themselves.

In the Gunroom Nicholas was sitting at the mess table, entertaining Andre with tales of derring-do on Texada and Harwood Islands, keeping the younger boy in stitches as he regaled him with graphic descriptions of Two Strokes (who was Duty, and out of the way) and his Swiss Army knife, Harry getting his bottom slapped with a hamburger flipper, and the raising of Andy Berg's drawers. Further down the table Stuart and Steve sat with Todd as they negotiated a better price for the Last Course With Balls T-shirts.

Jon, Fred, Chris and Matt were engaged in a spirited game of Euchre. Cory heard Matt's infectious laugh as he trumped Fred, who swore angrily.

Cory turned and as he passed the Chiefs Mess he heard a huge roar of laughter as Tony demonstrated the kitty lick to Harry, who growled and carried on to such an extent that Tony vowed to end all further demonstrations. Shaking his head at the antics, Cory lay down on his bunk, still mulling in his mind the break-up of his almost relationship with Nathan. He was not angry, and he had gotten over the loss he felt when Nathan confessed that he could never be faithful. He felt a heavy weight drop on the end of his bunk and looked to see Harry looking back at him.

"Are you all right, Cory?" asked Harry, his voice full of concern. Cory had been withdrawn and uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon and Harry was genuinely concerned.

Cory smiled wanly. "I'm fine, Harry."

"You don't look it," returned Harry with a scowl. "Has that little fuck Greene been on your case? Two Strokes hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

Cory sat up and put his hand on Harry's. "I'm fine, Harry. I haven't seen Little Big Man all day and Two Strokes has been behaving. Not a bad word for weeks."

Harry grunted. "He better be nice to you or I'll do a number on the skinny Kraut," he threatened.

Cory chuckled. "Leave Two Strokes alone, Harry."

"Well . . ." returned Harry, his tone doubtful. Then he grinned and leaned closer to Cory. "Todd and I are going to the School of Wind to pick out some music. You want to come along?"

Cory returned Harry's grin. He could almost hear the bugle sounding Hands to Stations for Leaving Harbour. Harry's offer was tempting but, for the first time in a long while, Cory was not in the mood for sex, though the thought of taking the Pride to sea again was tempting. "Thanks, Harry, but no. I think I'll just get a good night's sleep in."

Harry looked disappointed, then brightened. One Twin was better than no Twin. "If you change your mind you know . . ."

Cory shook his head. "I won't." He nodded toward his brother. "Look's like the market is closed."

Harry turned and saw first Stuart, then Steve, shake Todd's hand. A deal had been struck and if Harry knew Todd he knew who had got the best of it. Todd, ever the gentleman, offered Stuart and Steve a drink. Both declined and after Todd escorted the two boatswains to the Gunroom door he returned and sat on his bunk. He looked first at his brother and then at Harry.

"Um, Harry, can you maybe leave us alone for a minute?" asked Todd, with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

Harry returned the nod. "Yeah, sure. I'm going to have a quick wash." He cocked an eyebrow at Todd. "We still going to talk about the music for Tuesday, like you wanted?"

Todd flashed Harry a stunning smile. "In about five minutes, okay?"

Harry flushed a deep red. Music was not the only thing they were going to talk about tonight.

"You want to tell me about it?" asked Todd when Harry disappeared into the washplace.

Cory lay back on his bunk and sighed. "Nothing to tell, really. Nathan talked and I listened. Then I talked and Nathan listened." He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Todd nodded understandingly. "It's over between you two?"

"Yes."

"Cory, I am sorry, I am truly sorry." Todd reached out and patted his brother's belly. "The guy doesn't know a good thing when he sees it." Cory sighed wistfully but did not reply. "You don't seem all that angry about it," continued Todd. "I thought, well, I thought you had it bad for him."

Turning his head and smiling at his brother Cory said softly, "So did I. And I am not angry. I was a little hurt, but I'm mostly disappointed." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bunk. "Nathan was not the guy I thought he was so we've agreed that a relationship together would not work."

Todd thought a moment. "I'll tell Harry we'll meet tomorrow. I'll stay here with you."

Cory shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no, you will not." He leaned forward and looked into his twin's gloriously blue eyes. "Toddy, I got over the Gunner falling in love with Phantom. I got over you chasing Sylvain and catching him. I will get over Nathan." He reached out and gave Todd a push. "Now go and get your music problem settled." Todd squirmed, a little embarrassed. He knew that Cory knew what was going to happen. "Toddy, stop that. I know that the Pride is setting to sea. It's no big deal." Cory snickered. "After Nathan and I talked and I told him that we could still be friends, he said that sometimes friends fool around."

Todd started. "You, um, you going to?

Cory giggled. "Nathan is busy in the Chiefs Mess. I think that is where he should be."

"You did not answer my question."

Cory swung his legs back onto the bunk and pulled them up. He sat there a moment hugging his legs, and then looked earnestly at his brother. "Todd, if I 'fooled around' with Nathan it would be just that, fooling around. If that were what I wanted I would go with you and Harry. Or . . ." He nodded toward the card game at the far end of the mess table. " . . . I would walk down there and I would give the eye to Chris and Jon." He lay back against the bulkhead and laughed softly. "Or, just for variety I could wander down to the Gunners Barracks and tell two very handsome gentlemen that I saw them when they were using their newly patented method of steering a whaler."

"What are you talking about?" Todd had no idea what dirt Cory had dug up now.

"Oh, let's just say that if I wanted company I could find it," replied Cory with an airy wave of his hand. He would tell Todd about Anson and Chad later. "The point is, I can find sex if I want it."

Before Todd could say anything more Harry stuck his head around the corner of the bulkhead. He was wearing his poncho and was ready to go and discuss music. "Are we going, or what?" Harry half-bellowed as he held up the edge of the rubber poncho. "This thing is as hot as a crotch!"

Cory grinned at Todd. "It would seem that Harry has steam up in all boilers. You better get going or he'll blow up."

Todd returned the grin. He stood up and ruffled his brother's hair. "I won't be too late. If Harry's in a quick-fire mode I'll only be an hour."

Cory snickered. "Go on, fool. Take as long as you like."

Todd leaned forward. "I am sorry about Nathan. But, don't worry, the right guy will come along."

Cory snorted disdainfully. "With my luck, it will be fucking Two Stokes!"

Laughing heartily Todd slapped Cory's shoulder, grabbed his poncho, and then turned to greet the impatient Harry. Together they left the Gunroom.

As they disappeared through the door Matt turned back to the card game. He had stared longingly at the slim, trim, golden-haired figure that walked into the dark night. He sighed inwardly, hoping that none of the other card players had seen him looking at Todd. Chris, Jon, and Fred had been too engrossed in their bickering over what was suit to notice what Matt was doing, or where he was looking.

Cory saw the look in Matt's eyes but did not meet it. He turned his head away and rolled on his side, facing the bulkhead. "There is not much I can do, Matty," Cory thought. "But I will try." Cory closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. "I will try, Matty, I will try."

As Todd and Harry hurried past the Mess Hall on their way to the School of Wind they saw Ray and Kevin sitting on the front steps, sheltered by the overhang and taking a much needed break. Since returning with The Phantom, Ray had been kept busy by Chef. He first had to work the barbecue, trying to salvage the steaks from Sandro's determined efforts to cremate them. For some reason the Russian boy thought that any piece of meat had to be grilled just this side of charcoal to be eaten. After supper Chef set Randy, Joey and the Litany to cleaning up. Sandro and Ray, as Chef's protégés, were to be instructed in the preparations necessary for the grand dinner to be held tomorrow night.

Chef was in his element. He had not cooked a grand dinner for years, and he wanted Ray in particular to learn the right way of doing things. The menu was set and the really hard work was in the preparation of the food for cooking.

A perfectionist, Chef had spent a happy morning scouring the docks and markets of Comox, searching for just the right cut of beef, the perfect slab of smoked salmon, bullying, arguing, begging and cajoling the hapless fishmongers, greengrocers and butchers whose paths crossed his, taking no prisoners in his quest. He had returned to the galley in the early afternoon, the boot and back seat of his battered old Chevy laden with supplies. Sandro told Ray that it was worth your life if you so much as bruised a peach when the cadets were unloading the car.

While the cadets busied themselves with the preparations for the barbecue, Chef had begun the consommé. Randy and Joey had scratched their heads as Chef mumbled and grumbled his way through the galley, sniffing, tasting, complaining and generally getting in everybody's way as he chopped veal shins, veal trimmings and vegetables.

Between bellowings and roars at Sandro for trying to burn the galley to the ground, and Ray for not being around when he was needed - he had forgotten that Ray had Sunday afternoon off - Chef managed to set the veal bones and meat to cooking in a huge pot of water. This cooking would take five hours. When this was done the stock would have vegetables, herbs and one old hen added. After simmering away for three hours the consommé would be strained and later, when it was cold, further clarified with beaten egg whites.

With the first preparations for the consommé in place Chef bounced off to start the pâté. As Ray later told Sandro, it was amazing what Chef could do with goose livers, onions, butter and lots of brandy.

After making life miserable for all concerned Chef then retired to far end of the mess where, surrounded by jars and bottles of herbs, spices and assorted condiments, he prepared the marinade for the 25 pounds of prime fillet of beef that would be the main course of Beef Wellington. No one dared go near him. The recipe was secret and known only to Chef. He would, he had announced darkly, take it with him to his grave. When the marinade was ready Chef set Randy and Joey to marinating the meat. Both boys carefully laid the fillets in large roasting pans and spooned the liquid over the meat.

Sandro grumbled that they looked like they were making dynamite instead of slopping some dead cow. Chef snarled and smacked Sandro's round bottom and set him, with the help of a how-to book and a huge array of moulds, to making the royales that would garnish the consommé.

Chef took great pride in his abilities as a cook and a baker. He never descended to "store-bought" if he could help it. Everything had to be as fresh as he could find it. It was one thing to arrange for sticky buns for the Captain's Elevenses but it was quite another when it came to making the pastry for the Beef Wellington. He fixed his eye on Ray and announced that it was time that the boy learned to make real puff pastry so Ray spent the next two hours mixing flour, huge amounts of butter, and water into a dough, then folding, cooling and refolding the dough into huge, thin slabs of pastry.

As each of the Litany finished washing the dishes or scraping the barbecue grills Chef set him to work on the vegetables. Matthew and Mark were each presented with a melon scoop and pointed toward a small mountain of potatoes. They would first peel the potatoes and then, with the scoops, form potato balls that would be transformed into Pommes Parisienne. Luke and John were handed paring knives and directed towards twin mounds of green beans and cauliflower, the vegetables that would be served with the main course.

When Joey and Randy finished basting the meat, Chef set them to making the sorbet that would be served between the fish course and the main course. The sorbet consisted of water, sugar, and what Chef scornfully called domestic champagne, which Ray muttered was hardly fair since he had nicked the wine from Phantom's father. This would be mixed together, chilled and scooped into the crystal, engraved sorbet glasses that Chef had found mouldering in newspaper in one of the boxes containing the Admiral's Dining Room.

With everybody working and the galley humming, Chef found time to continue the work that had kept him up most of the night. In his best parochial school copperplate he was inscribing the menus and place cards. As Chef worked, Tyler, who had Mark, Tony and Nathan in tow, interrupted him. Would it be a problem, Tyler had wondered aloud, if the Americans could be included in the guest list? Much to everyone's surprise Chef had not exploded in righteous indignation. He was far ahead of Tyler. He had seen the black behemoth parked outside, had heard the whispered giggling of the Brats. They were still twittering on about what they had seen up the legs of Mark's and Tony's shorts (and had NOT seen up the legs of Nathan's); he had also heard Sandro telling Ray all about the unexpected visitors. Chef smiled slyly, and silently pushed three freshly inscribed place cards across his desk. He then pointed to a small pile of menu cards, each one decorated with a sepia view of AURORA taken from the air, listing the courses of the Dinner in heavily engraved palace script (Nicholas was not the only one with connections with the Base printer). Chef had menus and place cards for everybody involved, including the stewards, cooks and the brass sextet (the quartet having been increased by a trombonist and, at Andre's suggestion, a snare drummer) that would play at the Dinner.

Ever a good host, Chef then asked Ray to provide beers all around. When everyone was comfortably settled, beer in hand, he sat back and tossed the Ship's cat amongst the pigeons. What, Chef asked, was Tyler planning on doing about the Chiefs and Petty Officers of the YAG Squadron?

The YAG Squadron was a subject that Tyler did not care to talk about. The five-boat squadron was, except for administration and rations, a separate, distinct, unit, commanded by a Lieutenant Commander and based out of the Dockyard. Most of the time the small boats were out of harbour conducting Sea Training Exercises, steaming up and down the Strait of Georgia or anchored in Prideaux Haven, Desolation Bay. The AURORA cadets and the YAG crews rarely interacted and rarely saw one another. As a separate command the YAGs drew stores and rations from CFB Comox. When the boats were alongside the jetty and the crews ashore, there was the almost inevitable friction between the two groups of cadets. The YAG crews considered themselves seamen and therefore the elite of the Sea Cadets and a cut or two above the Fishheads and Barracks Stanchions who trained and lived on shore. The AURORA cadets considered themselves the Keepers of the Flame and had little use for the bragging Sandy Bottom Sailors of the YAG Squadron who for the most part couldn't find their dicks in the dark when the lights were turned out! It did not help that the Squadron Chief and Tyler did not get on. The arrogance and elitism of the Squadron was represented and personified in the short, slim, body of Chief Sean Anders, a bantam cock of a cadet with dark red, gold-flecked hair, and a ruddy, full face marred by the last vestiges of teenage acne spotting his chin. His hazel eyes always seemed to be full of anger and his thin lips rarely formed a smile. Chief Anders was a stern disciplinarian, more respected than liked, who projected an air of Calvinistic morality (a point which could be disputed by a certain Twin, the younger, by seven minutes, of a golden-haired set). Chief Anders never swore, did not smoke and seldom drank alcohol in any form. He was a Grade-A, Number One pain in the ass. It was rumoured that next year he would succeed Tyler as Master at Arms.

Chef's mention of Chief Anders had drawn a long, almost sad groan from Tyler. He slowly nodded his coppery head and Chef made note that five more place cards would be needed.

Uniforms were mentioned. Chef reminded Tyler, and Mark, that the uniform of the day, as promulgated by Tyler himself, was Number 11, full dress Class II whites. This brought another moan from Tyler. Through threats, wheedling, and bribery, Rob had agreed to lend three white uniforms to the Americans. In payment for Rob's largess, Tyler had promised the Storekeeper a large bottle of Pusser Penicillin, no Duty Watches until after the Passing Out Parade, and two extra ratings to help with the end-of-year audit, a massive undertaking as everything in the Ship had to be counted and stored for the winter. Mr. Leung's assistants, who had, as promised, returned with the finished uniforms, had been prevailed on to alter the uniforms. Mark, Tony and Nathan would strut their stuff with the best of them. As would Andy, who had been gifted with a white mess jacket and black vest by Kyle, who had quietly arranged with Mr. Leung to have the garments sewn.

After another round of beer the final, they all hoped, guest list was written. There would be 23 AURORA Chiefs and Petty Officers, five YAG Chiefs, four guests, Dirty Dave the Deacon (to say Grace), and the Commanding Officer. Lieutenant-Commander Hazleton had been asked by Tyler to attend but Number One had declined with thanks. He wanted Tyler to have his day, and besides, truth be told, Tuesday was promising to be a bitch of a day. He had meetings with protocol officers up the ying and the yang. Not only did he have to deal with the Lieutenant Governor's people, he had to deal with the Base Commander's people, plus the representatives of two of the most pompous politicians in British Columbia, the Mayors of Courtenay and Comox! It was all too much and meeting these minions of authority smelling of booze and hung over (a distinct possibility for he had seen the wine list), was not on the cards. He would be staying home on Monday night.

Father, on the other hand, had been delighted to accept Tyler's invitation to attend the Dinner. The Dinner would be, to his mind, a fitting culmination to his career. In many ways, Commander Stockman had seen the Senior Cadets, Tyler, Val, Harry, the Twins and so many more boys grow up. Most of the boys who would be attending the Dinner he had first met as frightened, skinny, little Ordinary and Able cadets, fresh from the farm or city, and the first time they had really been away from home and family. As a good, understanding Naval officer, Commander Stockman did not presume to be their surrogate father, though he felt that way about some of them. He did consider that he had been a guiding influence in their young lives. Their schoolboy love and respect had made the sneers and backbiting of the Regular Force and Reserve officers (who had little respect for mere Cadet Instructors) bearable and the whole job worthwhile. He would attend the Dinner.

With the Guest List finalized, and no more offers of beer, Tyler and the Americans wandered off in the direction of the Gunroom where, as Mark loudly pointed out as they left the galley, there was always a chance for a sailor to have a good time, or at least get a decent drink.

Chef, who had heard Mark's parting remark, secretly sympathized with the boy. He announced that he had a huge amount of work to do, which meant that he would have to spend the night and then wandered off in the direction of his office where he knew there was decent drink.

Kevin snickered as he watched Harry and Todd disappear into the drizzle. His hand drifted down and rested in Ray's crotch. His fingers began stroking the soft mound he found there. Ray squirmed a bit, then opened his legs wider. Ordinarily he would not have allowed Kevin so much freedom. So far their relationship was a secret known to only two other people and Ray hoped to keep it that way. Still, it did feel good, and being felt up on the steps of the Mess Hall added a hint of danger that Ray found intoxicating and increased his enjoyment of Kevin's stroking fingers teasing him into hardness.

Still, it had to stop. Granted, it was dark, and they were well hidden in the gloom and rain, but there were cadets about, and the galley staff had yet to secure. Ray slowly pushed Kevin's hand away from his crotch. "We have to stop, Kevin. We cannot chance somebody seeing us," Ray warned.

Kevin sighed heavily. "Is that the only reason?" he asked heavily.

Well, here it comes. Ray shook his head and stared into the gloom. Kevin had been shooting him looks most of the afternoon and half the evening. Kevin deserved answers for all his questions. Ray dropped his hand and found Kevin's, cold, rough-skinned hand. "Yes, Kevin, that is the only reason."

Kevin felt Ray's squeezing hand and warmed. "I do not want to lose you, Ray." He returned Ray's squeeze. "Please . . ."

Ray shook his head and then looked steadily into Kevin's eyes. "You have not lost me, and you will not lose me."

"You mean that? After sleeping with Phantom?"

"I mean it, Kevin. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

Kevin looked quizzically at Ray. "You got what you wanted and you still want me?"

Ray nodded solemnly. "Yes, I got what I wanted and if you must know, it was brilliant and wonderful and everything I wanted it to be. But it's over and both Phantom and I realize that it is."

Kevin pulled his hand away and ran it over his face, confused and happy at the same time. "I don't understand, Ray, not at all," he protested quietly. "On Thursday you told me that if Phantom called you'd come running. You spent what was obviously a wild afternoon with him, and you fucked. I can understand that. You told me how you felt about Phantom, and I accepted that. Now you come and tell me that I haven't lost you and that I'm stuck with you! I don't understand at all!"

"It's simple, Kevin. Phantom is not in love with me and never will be. He could never be happy with me, and when all the votes are in, I wouldn't be happy with him. We both realize that a relationship is not going to happen." He put his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "I want to be with you Kevin, if you will have me. I like you, and I am happy with you. I do not want to hurt you, ever! I am also not going to lie to you. When I was with Phantom it was, as you said, everything I ever wanted. We did not set out this afternoon planning on ending up in bed. But we did and that is the end of it. We made love and I am not sorry for that. I am sorry I hurt you. If you tell me to fuck off and die, well, I will understand."

Kevin moved closer to Ray's warm body. "I will not tell you to fuck off, Ray. I do want you with me, always. I just want to be sure that when we're together it's us two."

"It was always us two, is us two, and will be us two," replied Ray with deep affection. "Phantom and I have had our time together. Now we get on with the rest of our lives. We'll be friends, good friends, but that is all we will be. As for you and me, well, I care for you, I want you, and I am happy with you. I will tell you that there will never be another Phantom. If you walk away tonight, so be it. Just know though, that there will never be another guy in my bed."

"You mean that, don't you?" replied Kevin, impressed by the sincerity in Ray's voice.

"I mean it, Kevin." Ray turned his head and nodded firmly. "It's you or nobody. Until Phantom came along, and then you, I was a virgin and had never had sex with anybody. I wanted to have sex with Phantom, and I wanted to have sex with you. I do not want to have sex with anybody else, period. If you leave me, I will accept it. I won't get over it, but I will accept it. Just as you did not replace Phantom, no one can replace you. If you cannot be a part of my life, then so be it. I do not want anybody else. Just you."

Kevin raised his lips to Ray's cold, rain-washed face and kissed him gently. "I'm not leaving you, Ray. I want you, and I want to be with you. I love you and I always will. You are the only guy I ever wanted to be with, and the only guy I will ever be with. So, to put it in your terms, I might be stuck with you, but you are stuck with me!"

Ray giggled, feeling warm all over. "I wish you could stay longer. I really do not think that we will have much of a chance to be together between now and Thursday."

Kevin shrugged. "Who says that I am leaving Thursday?"

Ray pulled away and stared at Kevin. "Your training is finished. You are leaving on Thursday, aren't you?"

A guilty look crept across Kevin's face. "I didn't want to say anything to you until I was sure, but, well, I put in for an extension. Tyler says that there should not be a problem since they are always looking for guys to hang around until the end of the month to help with the closing down."

Ray smiled his shy smile. "You did that, because of me?"

"Yes. Friday afternoon."

A blush coloured Ray's face. "Kevin, I . . ."

Kevin shook his head and placed his fingers against Ray's lips. "We'll be together. That's all that matters."

Ray nodded. "That's all that matters."

For someone whose lifestyle and livelihood depended on the proper combination of rain and sun, Harry grumbled and muttered, complaining mightily about the rain as he and Todd sloshed through the puddles toward the School of Wind. "It's only rain, Harry, and if you plan on being a farmer you might as well get to like it," said Todd as they reached the doors to the school.

"I like the rain on the crops, not on me!" replied Harry with a growl. "This is supposed to be sunny BC, not the fucking rain forest." He unlocked the door to the school and both boys entered.

Todd grinned evilly as Harry turned on the lights. "What's the matter? You afraid the Pride will shrivel up?"

Harry, realizing how silly he'd been sounding, returned Todd's grin. "The Pride is weather proof. Rain doesn't bother it at all."

Todd chuckled as they entered the music library. They kicked off their sodden running shoes, doffed their ponchos and shook the raindrops from their hair. Harry indicated a chair near the bank of file cabinets containing the sheet music the Band used. "Before I work my musical magic, Todd, would you be kind enough to tell me why you want me to do it?"

"Harry, there are some things that need talking about. There are others that do not." Todd was loathe to explain to Harry what had happened, at least not all of the gruesome details. "Phantom did us all a huge service last night. We owe him."

Harry thought a moment, then rubbed his chin. "He settled with Little Big Man, didn't he?"

Todd looked at Harry and nodded slowly. "How did you know what he was going to do?"

Harry shrugged. "He's my brother. He told me on Friday." Harry slowly sank to the deck and returned Todd's look. "Phantom told me that he was going to settle with the little prick. He also told me that I was not to question his methods." He smiled at the memory of what had followed. "Then he kissed me, asked me to look after our brother, Greg, and to speak well of him."

Todd moved to sit beside Harry. He placed his arms around Harry's broad chest and rested his head on Harry's strong shoulder. "Harry, Phantom went into the Petty Officers Mess and seduced Little Big Man."

"Holy shit!" exploded Harry with a start. "He fucked Little Big Man?"

Todd nodded. "Yes, he did. He fucked Little Big Man, and more."

"Wow!" Harry's eyes widened. He reached up and his fingers began playing with Todd's soft, golden hair. "He did that for us?" Harry's voice was a low whisper. Todd was feeling very comfortable. Harry's body was warm and inviting and he snuggled closer, once again drinking in the unique odour that was Harry. "He did something that I would never have the courage, or the balls, to do. I wasn't sure that slipping the bone to Paul would work, but it did. Cory and me, we tried to talk Phantom out of it, but he wouldn't listen. He said that it had to be done, so he did it."

"Now I understand," murmured Harry. His fingers continued to tease the silken strands. "He was worried that what he was going to do would not work and he did not want me thinking bad things about him." Harry choked back a sob. "As if I would."

"He loves us, Harry," replied Todd, holding Harry close.

"And I love him," said Harry firmly. He lifted Todd's head slightly and looked into his clear blue eyes, seeing the tears welling. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine, now. After it happened, well, he sort of lost it. He felt so, so dirty. Cory and me, and Tyler and Val, we took care of him."

Harry's hand left Todd's head and moved down his slim, firm body, finally resting over Todd's right nipple, which immediately stiffened, sending a fiery jolt of pleasure through his body. "I should have been there, Todd," said Harry quietly. "He took care of me, after Stefan left. He told me what he was going to do, and I should have been there to help him."

Todd rubbed his cheek against Harry's broad chest. "No, Harry, that is not what he wanted. He wanted you well out of it. If anything had gone wrong he wanted only himself to be in the line of fire."

"Because of Stefan and me?"

Todd nodded. "Phantom knows that you love Stefan with all your heart, Harry. He also knew that if his plans didn't work out he couldn't take the risk of you being involved. He wanted to protect you, and Stefan, so he kept you out of it." "But, what about you, and Cory?"

"We went along with him because there were some things he could not do for himself."

"Such as?" Harry was feeling very content. The warmth of Todd's body against his was wonderful and he could feel the Pride stirring under his shorts.

"We taped everything," replied Todd with a grim smile. "We have every moan and groan."

Harry's body shook with silent laughter. "You taped it? You actually taped Little Big Man busting his nut?"

Todd chuckled. "Every minute of it. It should be interesting listening."

"You haven't heard it?" asked Harry, surprised.

"No. What with Mark, and Tony, and Nathan showing up, there was no time to listen to it. But I will." Todd began tracing small circles in the soft, curly hair lining Harry's leg, moving closer with each circle to the Escorts to the Pride, which bulged deliciously under the straining fabric of Harry's shorts. His fingers began to trace gently the outline of the Escorts.

Harry squirmed in delight and sighed contentedly. "What will you do, after you've heard what is on the tape?"

Todd's handsome face hardened. "I am going to ram it up Little Big Man's ass!" "You're a hard man, Todd," groaned Harry as Todd's hand slipped under his shorts and found the Pride, standing tall and proud. Much to Todd's surprise Harry was not wearing any underpants.

"As hard as the Pride," replied Todd with a giggle. He ran his finger under the curving head of Harry's penis, slowly massaging the massive amounts of precum that flowed from the spongy-hard mushroom that crowned the Pride.

"You keep that up and we will have to put talking about music on hold." God did that feel good. Harry slowly lifted his hips, sliding the Pride upward through Todd's lightly clasping fingers.

Todd suddenly removed his hand and kissed Harry. "I want you to make Tuesday's parade the best it's ever been. I want the tunes of glory, Harry."

Harry gave Todd a light peck on the lips. "Why Tuesday?"

Todd's hand returned to Harry's crotch where he began to slowly rub the long, thick Pride. He felt the huge wet spot that dampened the front of Harry's thin shorts grow larger. "Because on Tuesday Phantom will be the stand-in Inspecting Officer. It's to be a full dress rehearsal. When the cadets march, and the music plays, I want Phantom to know that the parade is just for him, that there will never be a parade like it again. When the troops march past Phantom I want him to know that it's our way of thanking him, you, Greg, Stefan, Val, Tyler, Cory, me, all the boys who love other boys, all of us, Harry."

Harry smiled and nodded. He pushed his hand under the elastic band of Todd's shorts and found the slim, beautiful organ hidden by the dark cloth. Todd gasped in delight. Harry might be a moose of a boy, but his touch was gentle. "As we march from the Mess Hall, we'll play Under the White Ensign," said Harry with a firm nod, "in memory of the most wonderful and happy weekend I have ever spent in my life." He grinned at Todd. "Then A Life on the Ocean Waves, to remind us of two dickheads who decided to go swimming in the middle of the Strait of Georgia!"

"Harry!" Todd did not care to be reminded of that particular bone-headed play.

Harry was on a roll. "For the hymn, the Naval Hymn, of course, but with the Bugle Band blowing the Last Post in counterpoint. It will sound magnificent! That will remind us that we are all brothers, Nelson's Band of Brothers! Now, for the Salute." Harry's face brightened. He suddenly jumped up, sending Todd sprawling, and rushed to one of the file cabinets. He ripped the cabinet open and began rummaging through the file folders. First one, then another folder was tossed contemptuously aside.

"No, not that," muttered Harry to himself. "That's American." Another folder joined the first two on the deck, score sheets skittering across the deck. "We could use Scipio, but no, that's for the riffraff." More rummaging and the musical General Salute went flying. Harry read briefly through each score before rejecting it. Piece after piece was found wanting, just not good enough. So far as Harry was concerned the honour of his Band was at stake. His honour was at stake and he would not allow any second-rate music. Finally, as Todd watched in awe, Harry found a piece of music that pleased him. He turned and waved the music at Todd. "Here it is!" he crowed. "It's perfect." He handed the sheet music to Todd, who scanned the printed bars of notes.

"Bump, bumpa-da, bumpa,bumpa bumpa da," hummed Todd, in perfect time. All those years of piano lessons had not been wasted. He looked at the title of the march. "The Garb of Old Gaul."

"It's perfect," said Harry as he sat down beside Todd. "We'll only play the first two movements. "It's about 55 seconds long, which is just the right amount of time so we don't piss off the Guard." He frowned and then snickered. "There's a seven note drumbeat intro. I think we'll go with that, too. Old Fozzy will just cream himself silly!"

Todd shuddered involuntarily at the thought of "Old Fozzy" ejaculating in his underwear. Lucius, aka Fozzy, was a most proficient timpanist - he had to be or he would not have been a part of Harry's band. He was also at least 30 pounds overweight, suffered from terminal acne and, so rumour had it, was in a dead heat with Mike in the Provincial Small Dick contest.

"And the trumpeters will have a ball with these passages," added Harry. He looked at Todd and waggled his tongue rapidly. "Triple-tonguing. Those little fucks will be as happy as Fozzy when they're finished!"

"Jesus, Harry!" Todd shook his head in mock disgust. "Do you associate everything with sex?"

"Of course," Harry agreed equably. "Fozzy and the trumpeters like to get their rocks off too, you know."

Todd grinned at Harry, who would never change. "I have another idea!"

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "This idea include going into the Unwinding Room?"

Todd pretended to be shocked. "Harry! We are planning what is going to be the most outstanding, memorable parade in the history of the Royal Canadian Sea Cadets and all you can think about is getting laid!"

"I do not!" protested Harry loudly. "It's just that I would like to go into the Unwinding Room!"

Todd snickered and kissed Harry's lips. "We will go into the Unwinding Room." Then he grinned widely. "But not just yet. First work, then . . ." He slipped his hands back up Harry's shorts. " . . . Then we play."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned as Todd's hand manipulated the Pride. "Okay, okay. Just be careful, the Pride is mighty sensitive tonight."

Todd laughed and withdrew his hand. "The Pride is always sensitive, Harry."

Harry glared at Todd. "Why did you stop? It was feeling sooo good."

Todd glared back. "Because we have work to do." He leaned close. "And if you are patient I promise to make it all up to you."

Harry swallowed hard. "Ah, sure," he managed to gasp out.

"Okay, then! Now, I need a piece of paper and a pen." Todd was all business and waited patiently while Harry, grumbling loudly, found a small pad of paper and a battered pencil.

"Will these do?" asked Harry, an exasperated tone in his voice, as he handed the paper and pencil to Todd.

Todd ignored him. He wanted to play music of a different kind just as much as Harry did. However, business was business. "What I had in mind is that we go all out," Todd said, scribbling a note on the pad. "We drive Phantom from the Mess Hall, where he will have changed into his Number Elevens . . ."

Harry raised his hand. "Just out of curiosity, and for my own amusement, how, may I ask, are you going to get Phantom into his Number Elevens? I thought you wanted to keep everything a secret from him until you got him onto the parade square."

"I do," confirmed Todd. "But, not to worry, I'll dream up something. Now, as I was saying, he'll be driven from the Mess Hall . . ."

"You don't have a car," interrupted Harry.

"True, but Mark has one. If we clean up that beast it will look impressive."

"If you ignore the rust and the crumpled back fender," sniped Harry.

Todd gave Harry an exasperated look. "We'll use Mark's car. He can be Duty Driver. It's not as if he has anything better to do except sit around in his underwear and drink Val's booze."

"Okay, Phantom's in Mark's car. What next?"

"As he drives down the roadway from the Mess Hall to the parade square, we'll fire an eleven gun salute!" He wrote the number 11 on the pad, circled it, and then drew a quick line sketch of a field gun.

"You will not get away with that!" snapped Harry. "I can con Sub-Lieutenant Ramseur about the music - he's pretty green, you know - and we can get away with the music part, and no danger, but really, Todd, an eleven-gun salute?"

"Oh ye of little faith!" Todd shook his head at Harry's apparent ignorance of protocol. "Who, may I ask, is the Inspecting Officer on Wednesday?"

Harry thought a moment and then his face lit up. "The Lieutenant Governor, who, as the Queen's Representative is entitled to . . ."

"An eleven gun salute!" finished Todd triumphantly.

Harry chuckled. "Well, it is a Full Dress Rehearsal!"

"Fucking aye! Now, we'll need a Piping Party. I'll talk to Stuart, since he has to be there." Another note was added.

Harry nodded his agreement. His knowledge of Naval protocol was just as encyclopaedic as Todd's. "Right, we will need him, the Duty Chief and the Duty Quartermaster. Plus three hands to Pipe the Side, and three side-boys."

"Five side-boys," corrected Todd.

"Five?"

"Two extra to stand ready to open the back doors of the car. One on either side." Todd smiled at Harry for he had noted the shift from you to we.

Harry clapped his hands. "Brilliant! Now then, Phantom's on the dais, and the Guard salutes."

"The Band plays the Garb of Old Gaul," reminded Todd.

Harry waved Todd's remark away. "Music is my department. Now then, after he inspects the Guard, is Phantom going to inspect the troops?"

"Of course."

"Hm, well then we'll play Gilbert and Sullivan. Something from The Pirates of Penzance, maybe Iolanthe." He scratched his chin, thinking. "The March of the Peers is always good. Then the March Past music." Todd scribbled the names of the tunes onto the pad. Harry nodded. "We have to play Heart of Oak for that, and Nancy Lee for the Advance. They are traditional pieces and I will not budge on those."

"Nobody asked you to! What about the March Off music?"

"Sarie Marais," replied Harry promptly.

"What!" Todd's pencil hung over the pad of paper. "That's a Royal Marines march!"

"So what? I like it. So we'll play it!" He grinned at Todd. "You get to shoot off so I get to pick a march I like."

Grinning, Todd ignored the double entendre about shooting off. He returned Harry's grin. "Fine." He gave Harry a slight shove. "We make a good team, Harry."

Harry leaned forward and his hand drifted to Todd's crotch. "Yeah, we do."

A slow smile crossed Todd's face. He dropped the pad of paper and pencil to the deck and slid his hand under Harry's shorts. The indicator on the Engine Room Telegraph moved from "Stand By" to "Slow Ahead".

Harry pushed open the door to the Unwinding Room and turned on the lamp that stood on the small table nearest the door. A soft glow illuminated the first half of the room. The rest of the long chamber remained shaded and gloomy. Harry, the Pride pulsing in his shorts, moved quickly to the far end and closed the curtains. He turned and faced Todd who walked slowly toward him. Harry grinned foolishly and his hands grasped the bottom of his thin cotton T-shirt.

Todd put his hands over Harry's. "Let me," he whispered huskily. Todd slipped his hands under the hem of Harry's T-shirt and using just his palms slowly and deliberately pushed the shirt upward. Harry, breathing heavily, raised his arms and Todd's soft, warm hands lifted the T-shirt over his head. Todd raised his head and his lips found Harry's, his tongue probing gently. Harry moaned loudly as their lips parted slightly and his tongue met Todd's.

Todd's lips withdrew, then returned again, this kiss more passionate. A wave of desire swept through Harry and his legs began to shake as Todd's soft hands found his nipples. He groaned as the softness coaxed and teased the brown nubs into hardness. He could feel the Pride pulsing and could feel the precum flowing in a small river from his pee slit, coating the heated glans of the Pride, the flow increasing as Todd's hands stimulated his nipples.

Once again Todd's lips left Harry's. He kissed Harry's clean-shaven cheek, then his neck. Harry raised his head as Todd's tongue laved the slight valley of his shoulder. He shivered with delight and a low, ecstatic groan rose from his throat. Todd's lips and tongue moved with excruciating slowness down Harry's smooth, hairless chest and came to rest on first his left, then his right nipple. Todd kissed and nibbled at the hard, light brown nubs resting in the pink, quarter-size aureoles and Harry's body quivered as the pleasure flowed through him.

Todd lingered, sucking and nipping and kissing Harry's nipples, his hands moving down and his fingers twirling and pulling at the dark treasure trail that flowed like a wake from Harry's navel and into his dark blue shorts.

Harry squirmed and shivered, revelling in the erotic pulses Todd's hand and mouth sent shooting through his body. His large hands found Todd's shoulders and he pulled Todd upward until their crotches met. He began thrusting his hips, grinding the Pride into the warm lump that pooched out the front of Todd's shorts.

"Soon, Harry, soon," murmured Todd as his hands found the button holding Harry's shorts up. He unbuttoned the shorts and they slid effortlessly downward.

"You too," gasped Harry as he quickly undid Todd's shorts.

Like Harry, Todd was not wearing any underwear. Released from the bonds of cotton, Todd's slim, perfect six-inches of manhood sprang outward. Harry felt Todd's penis slide against the Pride. He reached down, running his hands down the curve of Todd's spine, then reaching lower, his hands kneading and massaging the firm, wonderful globes of Todd's ass.

Harry pulled Todd to him. Todd raised his head and again their lips met. Their hips ground together, Todd whimpering as the Pride slid across his own hard erection. He savoured the delight of Harry's body, slowly pushing him forward until he was sprawled in the corner of the settee, his legs spread, the Pride jutting proudly from the mass of dark, curly pubic hair that surrounded it.

Todd knelt between Harry's wide spread legs and buried his face in Harry's crotch. Harry's scent was intoxicating, a delicious mixture of boy musk and lustful perfume, with just a hint of soap. He ran his tongue up the length of the Pride, cleaning it of its coating of clear, warm precum. His lips lingered over the dusky pink glans of the Pride, his dragging tongue wiping clean the hot, spongy flesh.

Harry's eyes glazed over and his eyes rolled back in his head. He arced his body as Todd continued to kiss and suck his way down the long shaft of the Pride. His toes curled as he felt first the head, then half the shaft of the Pride being enveloped in the warm, wet heaven of Todd's mouth.

As Todd's mouth continued its downward journey Harry groaned mightily and his fingers clawed at the rough fabric of the settee. He could feel Todd's hot breath as he buried his nose in the pubic hairs at the base of the Pride. The Pride began pulsing uncontrollably as the fire deep within the Escorts raged out of control.

Todd could feel the smooth, curving shape of the head of the Pride against the back of his throat. He greedily swallowed the clear, viscous fluid that continued to leak from the pulsing slit. His tongue, warm and rough, lashed the soft-skinned hardness of the Pride.

Harry, his legs shaking, his body convulsing, tried to hold back, hold back the tide of all but overwhelming lust that smashed against him. He groaned and clenched his ass muscles, wanting the glorious feelings to last forever. His hips thrust upward as Todd's mouth and twirling tongue drove him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly he could hold back no longer. His body stiffened and his head slammed back against the cushions of the settee. A full-throated roar of indescribable, overpowering pleasure filled the Unwinding Room.

Feeling the pride thicken and pulse Todd quickly drew back until just the first few inches of the Pride were encased in his sucking mouth. The Pride quivered and a huge volley of smooth, thick nectar exploded from the distended muzzle of the Pride. Again and again the Pride fired and filled Todd's mouth with the exquisite, delightful flavour of Harry, coating his tongue and sliding down his willing throat.

As the Pride pulsed spasmodically Harry's entire body quivered. He growled and thrust upward into Todd's warm, wet mouth as the last, final volley left the gaping muzzle of the Pride. The Ready Use Locker was empty and Harry rolled his head, gasping as he tried to slowly withdraw his tender organ.

Todd growled and began to lick and suck the Pride clean of any trace of Harry's ejaculate. "No, oh God, fuck, no!" yelped Harry as Todd's tongue crossed the supersensitive glans of the Pride. "Fuck, no! Can't stand it!" he growled as he pulled back with such force that the Pride slapped against his belly. "Too good! Oh, God, fuck, too good!"

When Todd pulled away Harry began wriggling and squirming and pushing himself down the length of the settee. Todd scooted back and watched as Harry settled himself. Harry saw Todd looking at him and smiled slowly. He ran his fingers along the smooth length of the semi-hard Pride, and then reached out, his arms wide, inviting Todd to come to him.

Todd wriggled up Harry's still quivering body and their lips met yet again. Harry tasted again his sweet sauce and he savoured his own unique taste. He wrapped his arms around Todd's warm, flush body and held him close. They lay there, kissing, not kissing, Harry's raspy breathing loud in the long, quiet Unwinding Room. He could feel Todd's warm erection as it rested beside the still hard Pride.

Todd felt wonderful. He had pleasured Harry as he had never been pleasured before. He could feel the hard wetness of the Pride pressing into his stomach; he could feel Harry's breath hot against his cheek. They lay there, hugging each other tightly as Harry's post-orgasmic flush began to drain from his body. Harry did not want Todd to leave him. He did not want this moment to end.

Harry lowered his head slightly and he licked Todd's ear. Todd giggled, but since it felt good he made no complaint. Harry then began kissing Todd's warm cheek and he reached down and felt Todd's hard slimness. He ran his fingers across the curving top of Todd's penis. "I want . . ." he began slowly.

Todd raised his head and looked into Harry's eyes. "What? You want . . .?"

"I want you in me, Todd, please," murmured Harry. "I want to know how it feels. I want you to love me."

Todd stared at Harry. Friday night had been wonderful, but both he and Cory had taken Harry at his word that there was to be no fucking. They had both assumed that Harry had meant that while he and Cory had made love, twice, he was not going to reciprocate.

"Harry, are you sure. You told us that . . ."

Harry nodded his head and looked directly at Todd. "I want you, Todd, I want you to make love to me. Please, do it."

Todd nodded. "Have you ever . . .?"

"No," breathed Harry. "Never before. Now I want to and I want you to be the one who shows me what it's like."

Todd moved away from Harry and, kneeling, positioned himself between Harry's legs. He sat back on his heels, his blue eyes clear and sparkling. Before him Harry lay quietly, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady, his face calm. As he gazed at Harry's wonderful, superb body, Todd gathered his thoughts, forcing the wellspring of lust that rose within his groin to subside. His eyes drank in Harry's broad chest, his firm, thick thighs, and caressed the soft magnificence of the Pride as it lay atop the smooth, low-hanging Escorts. He leaned forward and placed his hands on Harry's warm thighs, his thumbs stroking the warm, lightly furred flesh. Harry was not someone to be lusted after. This loving friend was no romp in a tent, nor a furtive lay in the Boatswain Stores. At Todd's light touch Harry opened his eyes and smiled, his smile devoid of subterfuge or coyness, his smile full of love and trust.

Todd's soft, warm smile returned Harry's love and trust. Todd was determined now, determined that the gift Harry was about to give him, the most precious gift that a man could give to another man, the gift of his virginity, would be cherished, determined that he would return to Harry the same warmth and trust with which it was given. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed the radiant, smoothly curving crown of the Pride and then he lifted Harry's legs up and gently pushed them back. Wordlessly he squirmed and wiggled down the settee, lowering his head and running his lips down the smooth crack that divided Harry's firm, round butt. He reached up and pulled Harry's crack wide, his tongue gently licking up and down the clean, smooth flesh. He probed the tight, browny-pink hole with his tongue. To his delight he discovered that Harry had washed and cleaned himself thoroughly.

Harry whimpered and shivered as Todd's tongue continued to probe his rosebud. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before.

Todd withdrew his tongue and substituted his finger. Harry was very nervous, so much so that his rectum was locked tight. "Harry, you have to relax if you want to do this," murmured Todd. "Just breathe slowly and relax." He ran his finger over the head of his own dick, gathering the clear, natural lubricant that oozed from slit of the engorged, throbbing helmet.

Harry's breathing slowed and he relaxed his muscles. He felt Todd's lubricated finger probing again, then ever so slowly slipping into him. He gasped and bucked slightly as the finger slid all the way, penetrating his body.

Todd slowly slid his finger in an out of Harry's now relaxed channel, stimulating the nerve endings that lined the smooth, moist canal. He pushed deeper and his fingertip brushed against the spongy mass it sought. Harry's body jerked and he sat up, then flopped down again as a bolt of almost unholy ecstasy flashed through him. "Holy fuck!"

Todd snickered. "You remember what we said, about a guy giving a guy as much pleasure as he got?" he asked.

Harry groaned loudly as another bolt of lighting smashed through him.

"This is part of it," whispered Todd as he withdrew his finger. Harry growled at him unintelligibly. "Patience, Harry, patience," he murmured as he inserted two fingers and began to swirl them slowly. "I want to do this right. I do not want to hurt you." Todd moved upward and took the Pride in his mouth. His fingers continued to loosen and stimulate Harry's anus.

Harry's hips jerked as Todd's mouth sucked the Pride gently. He tried to pull away but the feelings that crowded his brain and body would not allow it. Harry moaned and thrust upward as Todd's fingers continued to slide in and out of his body. He could feel himself approaching the precipice again. It was not what he wanted so he reached downed and pushed Todd's head off the Pride. "Please, no, I don't want that," he whispered. "You know what I want you to do!"

Todd nodded and pulled away. "We need some lube. It's better if we have lube."

Harry raised his arm and with shaking finger pointed to the table beside him. "In the drawer. I left it there after we finished on Friday."

Todd reached over Harry's heated body and opened the drawer of the table. He found the small tube of Vaseline. Opening the tube he lavishly coated his raging hardon with the thick goo. Then he coated his fingers and reached down to apply the lubrication to Harry's slightly dilated hole. "It almost always hurts the first time, at least for a while, Harry" warned Todd as his fingers prepared Harry for what was to come. "If it does, tell me, and I'll stop."

Harry shook his head. "I want this, Todd. I'll be okay." He raised his hips. He was ready.

Todd, on his knees, scooted forward and pushed his penis down, placing the glistening head against Harry's pucker. "Hold your legs back, Harry," he whispered huskily. He pressed against Harry and his head of his penis slid easily into Harry.

Harry gasped as a sharp, short dart of pain flashed through him. Then, as Todd waited patiently and the pain abated, he pushed back. Half of Todd's boner slid into Harry. Harry grunted and his face contorted with the pain. "Harry, I'll pull out," said Todd, alarmed. He knew all too well what Harry was going through.

"No!" growled Harry. "Just give me a minute to get used to it." Harry's eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged. The pain was not as bad as he had expected, and was beginning to be replaced by a feeling of fullness. Having Todd in him felt wonderfully natural. He nodded, indicating that Todd was to proceed. Todd pushed deeper, his dick sliding easily into Harry until his pubes rested against the hard flesh of Harry's perineum. Once again Todd waited until Harry was accustomed to his thickness. He looked down and saw that the Pride had deflated, and was resting quietly over the twin, perfect, oval Escorts. He reached out and, as he set up a slow, steady, in and out rhythm, wrapped his arms around Harry's legs. With each inward thrust Todd's engorged organ brushed Harry's prostate, causing him to moan and shudder and push back. Todd continued to slowly pleasure Harry and himself. He was so caught up in the sweet loving that he began to groan and in his lust he began to lick and suck Harry's legs. Harry began growling as each successive jolt of indescribable wonder flashed through him. He was so absorbed in the pleasure he felt emanating throughout his body that he did not realize that the Pride had risen, jutting upward and, as if it had a life of its own, throbbing and jerking with each thrust of Todd's penis into him.

Todd groaned and pumped. He looked down and saw that the Pride was once again stiff and hard, and leaking precum in massive streams. Each time he thrust inward Todd saw the Pride spurt out another gush of the clear liquid. Harry was thrashing his head back and forth, overcome and very close to blowing again. Todd was determined to cum with Harry. He grit his teeth, slowing his movements, all but screaming as he tried desperately to hold back.

Harry growled and snarled as the feelings of a massive explosion coursed through him. The Pride rose upward and a huge gout of thick, precious fluid spurted out, spattering across his chest. Harry's lips curled in a snarl and he arced his back, clenching his ass muscles as he continued to ejaculate.

It was too much for Todd. His penis pulsed and he began to fill Harry's bowels with his juices as a titanic climax caused his body to stiffen, until, exhausted, he collapsed on Harry, his hips jerking in short, tiny thrusts. Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Todd's heaving body, holding him close.

Todd could feel the Pride, slick with Harry's fluid and sweat rubbing against his smooth stomach. He was breathing heavily, sighing happily from the heady effects of the aftermath of a wonderful, overpowering fuck. Harry was sucking on his neck, mumbling and muttering. Feeling his penis starting to soften, Todd attempted to withdraw.

Harry was having none of it. "No, leave it in," he whimpered harshly. "Stay with me!"

As Todd and Harry recovered from their love making, the lights that had burned late around AURORA slowly winked out. Chef, finally, had dismissed his staff and, groaning loudly and grumbling at the aches and pains of too much work, opened the sofa bed in his office and crawled in. He was asleep in minutes.

Sandro, the Brats, and the Litany hurried across the small distance that separated their barracks from the Mess Hall. Like Chef, they were all very tired and wasted no time in stripping down and climbing into their respective bunks.

Ray walked Kevin to the Gunners Barracks. They lingered in the shadows, making out and petting heavily. Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Kevin went inside and Ray hurried to his own barracks. After checking Randy and Joey, he slid under the covers, a smile of complete and utter happiness on his face.

In the Chiefs' Mess, Tyler lay in his bunk, listening to the rain falling on the roof over his head and to the slow, steady breathing of his roommate and guests. Mark, Tony and Nathan had drawn mattresses and were stretched out on the deck. Mark and Tony were all but spooned together. Nathan lay on his side, snuffling in his sleep.

Across the room Val lay peacefully, oblivious to the sounds of the other boys. He lay on his back, on top of the bunk, naked except for his boxers. In the dim, red glow of the emergency light Tyler could see the small bump in Val's boxers. A small moan drew Tyler's attention to where Mark and Tony lay sleeping. He watched as Tony's arm snaked out and embraced Mark's waist. Tony squirmed closer to his sleeping friend's body and his hand began to move, sliding slowly down and under the elastic band of Mark's white boxers. Mark squirmed and pushed his behind back, grinding slightly into Tony's crotch. Tony's right leg came up and he draped it over Mark's strong legs. Both boys sighed contentedly. Tyler half expected the two Americans to start something, but nothing happened. They lay together, their bodies closely entwined. It was then that Tyler realized that Tony and Mark were lovers and, like all lovers their relationship extended far beyond sex. They were comfortable just being together.

Tyler lay back on his pillow, staring at the deckhead. His hand rested lightly on his dick, which was covered by his white briefs. He squeezed himself and then reached down and fondled his balls, feeling the slight dusting of hair that covered the base of his scrotum. He turned his head and looked at Val's sleeping body. Val grunted and turned on his side.

Sighing, Tyler looked away. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and no matter how much he wished it, he and Val would never lie together, holding each other, loving each other. He withdrew his hand from his crotch and rolled over, closed his eyes and fell asleep, a small teardrop oozing slowly down his ruddy cheek. He and Val would never ride together as one.

Harry lay sprawled along the length of the settee. Between Harry's widespread legs Todd lay on his left side, his head resting on Harry's chest. Harry's face was half-buried in Todd's sweat-darkened hair. He had slipped his right hand under Todd's arm, and his fingers slowly rubbed the stubby, hard, pink-circled nipple under his hand. His left hand rested against his own left thigh, and there was a happy, faraway look in his eyes.

Todd was enjoying Harry's attention and felt very comfortable lying as he was between Harry's legs. He could feel Harry's warm thigh pressing against his butt as his right hand teased and caressed the dark pink, classic helmet that crowned the now soft, silken Pride of the Fleet. >From time to time Todd moved his fingers south to rub and tickle the Escorts, the two firm orbs warm and enticing in their smooth, hairless sac.

Harry, enjoying the delightful afterglow of good sex, sighed contentedly, minute shivers of ecstasy flowing and ebbing through him as Todd pleasured him. "You keep that up and we may have to put to sea again," said Harry with a snicker. He buried his nose in Todd's hair, and then kissed the top of his head.

Todd looked up and grinned. "So?" He gave the Pride a squeeze and felt the firm, meaty organ expand slightly. "According to our resident sex therapist we're good for at least two more sorties."

Harry laughed softly. He rested his chin on Todd's shoulder and rubbed cheeks. He looked down to see what effect his ministrations were having on Todd. "Todd, have you ever noticed that your dick and balls get all red when you have sex?"

"What?" Todd looked down at his soft genitals, which were red, a bright, crimson red. Todd's balls, hanging low between his legs, were a bright red. His penis, at least that part of it above his pale circumcision line, was equally red. Below his ring his penis was a dull, dusky pink. He giggled. "Cory's dick gets the same way," he said, squeezing the Pride again. "So does the Pride, in case you've never noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," replied Harry with a laugh. He rubbed Todd's cheek again. "Stefan's used to get so red I thought it would catch on fire. Greg though, he just got a little pinker. The little fucker could cum, though."

This was a little too much information for Todd to be comfortable with. "Harry! Did your mother never tell you that a gentleman never kisses and tells?"

"I ain't no gentleman!" retorted Harry. His face softened. "But, yeah, you're right, Greg isn't here and I shouldn't tell tales out of school."

"No, you should not," replied Todd. He squirmed and pushed his body further up Harry's. "Mind you, you're not afraid to talk about it. Not like some guys."

Harry hugged Todd close. "Greg could never understand why I could talk to him about what I did." He shrugged. "Then again, he could never decide if he was gay and wanted me, or if he was straight and just fooling around with me."

"He's in love with you, you dumb ox!"

"I know, but I'm not in love with him. I like him and I had fun with him. Then he got all afraid and didn't want to have fun anymore. His loss."

"Harry, a lot of guys are like that. They have sex with another guy and are so afraid that someone will find out about it they go into denial. At least Greg talks to you. He doesn't ignore you and pretend that you do not exist."

"I would never do that to you or Cory," said Harry firmly. "And I am not with you just for the sex."

Todd snickered evilly. "Strange thing to say, Harry, when I am lying between your legs feeling up the Pride and you're rubbing my tit!"

Harry gave Todd a rough hug. "You know what I mean. When we leave here we're still friends. We do other things together. We were friends long before Friday night."

Todd nodded. "Too many guys forget that, Harry. You wouldn't know, not having slept with anybody other than Cory and me."

"I slept with Greg, and I slept with Stefan . . ." began Harry, who wasn't quite as obtuse and uninformed as Todd thought he was.

"It's not the same," insisted Todd. "You and Greg sucked each other off. That was sex. You and Stefan made love. There is a big difference. Believe me, I know. Sometimes I wish I didn't. He pulled away from Harry and sat up, pulling his knees up and hugging them. "It's hell being gay, Harry. Guys hit on you all the time. Sometimes you go with the wrong guy and when that happens you end up paying for it."

Harry looked quizzically at Todd. "Has someone said something, done something to you or Cory?"

"No, nothing like that," replied Todd calmly. He looked at Harry and smiled ruefully. "Despite what Little Big Man thinks and despite what Two Strokes thinks, I have not spent all summer rutting with the boys."

"No one thinks you have. I sure don't!"

Todd's smile broadened. "Good, because I have not done anything of the kind. Except for you and Cory, I have had sex with exactly two other guys, which isn't bad considering that over 800 cadets have wandered through here at one time or another."

"So, what's the problem?" asked Harry.

"Harry, why doesn't Sylvain sleep in the Gunroom? He's the Senior Bugler and Drum Major. He's on Staff. Why does he sleep in the Buglers Barracks?"

Harry though a moment, then realized what Todd was getting at. "Because you and him slept together when you were doing QUEST?"

Todd nodded slowly. "He came on to me, Harry, big time. He knew that I was gay and I admit that I found him very attractive. We shared a tent and for a week we fucked. We fucked every chance we got." His face saddened. "Harry, when we got on that bus to come home it was if nothing had happened between us. Worse, he acted as if he didn't even know me! He doesn't want to know me and he goes out of his way to avoid me."

"Frog cunt!" snarled Harry. Who hurt Todd, hurt him.

Todd placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and rubbed gently. "Don't be angry with Sylvain. My guess is that he went further with me than he ever had before. He can't handle the fact that not only did he and I fuck, but he enjoyed it. I can understand the way he's reacted. He did what he did and now he wants to forget all about it. It happens."

"But to just ignore you, that is not fair!" growled Harry. But then, what else could a guy expect from a cunt like Sylvain?

"True, it is not fair," echoed Todd with a small sigh. "But it happens. In time Sylvain will convince himself that what happened never happened at all. He will, in all truth and good conscience, deny that he has ever had full sex with another male. It will be gone from his mind. Ignoring me is one way of convincing himself that we never happened. At least he is not using the guilt he feels to get back at me."

Harry looked puzzled. "Why would anybody do that? Sylvain came on to you, remember?"

"I remember. He doesn't want to, so he takes the 'Todd-don't-exist' route. Other guys, though, they feel so guilty that they did something so forbidden they have to lash out, to hurt the guy they were with."

"But they must have wanted to do it!" insisted Harry. "Greg wanted to sleep with me. I wanted to sleep with you. You didn't rape Sylvain, or any of the other guys. They put their dicks in your hand and went along with whatever happened!"

"Yes, they did," agreed Todd. "At the time, they wanted to have sex but, once they'd shot their load, the guilt set in." He laughed harshly. "Straight boys don't mind getting blown while they're getting blown. What they're feeling overrides everything, until they put their dicks back in their pants." He looked into Harry's eyes. He saw love, affection, and a full measure of devotion so he continued on. "Then they look at me and they feel guilty. I led them down forbidden paths and because I did I have to pay for it. All their feelings of guilt are focused on me. To get rid of that guilt they have to hurt me, any way they can. They cannot beat me up, because they know I can beat the shit out of them if they tried. Everybody knows that I am gay, so they cannot start a whispering campaign against me. That doesn't stop them, of course. They have other ways."

"Other ways?"

"Other ways," said Todd with a slight nod. "He leaned his head against Harry's shoulder. "I'll never be First Prefect."

Harry rubbed his cheek against Todd's head. "Who or what, please, is that? And why will you never be it?"

"The school I go to, St. George's College, has five forms. Each form has a prefect. There is also the First Prefect, the Head Boy. He is the Headmaster's right hand man. It's considered very prestigious to be Head Boy. My father was First Prefect when he went there."

"So you want to follow him, right?"

"Yes. It's traditional so I want it. I want to wear the yellow waistcoat."

"The what?" asked Harry with a start. "You walk around with nothing on but a vest?"

Todd giggled. "No, fool. All the boys wear the school uniform, wine coloured blazer, grey pants, and a black waistcoat, and straight ties. The prefects wear a cutaway coat, black trousers, buff coloured waistcoats and white bow ties. They have turned down collars on their shirts. The Head Prefect though, he wears a wing collar, and a pale yellow, embroidered waistcoat, the gaudier the better. Mine is all embroidered with roses. It was my father's."

"Sounds silly to me," retorted Harry, ever the egalitarian. "White bow ties, yellow vests and cutaways. Sounds like a bunch of junior morticians!"

"Harry, every morning you get up and you put on a funny suit and wear an even funnier round hat. Can you tell me why?" asked Todd gently. "Tradition. We wear the old blue uniform because someone has to keep the traditions of the old Navy alive." Harry grimaced and hugged Todd. "Ah, shit, I did it again! I insulted you and I did not mean to, honest, I just . . ." Todd put his hand over Harry's mouth. "Harry, we all have traditions," he said with a smile. "Even White, Anglo-Saxon Protestants."

Harry nodded. "It's traditional, where I live, to have mail boxes built to look like little churches."

"And it's traditional in St. George's that if your father was a prefect, you will be a prefect, or at least have your name on the list."

"List, what list?"

"Every year the outgoing First Prefect meets with the other prefects. They nominate three candidates to be First Prefect. They also nominate 12 candidates to be prefects - one for each form - and they submit the list to the Headmaster, who has the final choice. My name is not on either of this year's lists. Nor is Cory's."

Harry looked at Todd. "What did Cory do?"

Todd shook his head. "Exactly what I did. We both slept with the First Prefect last year. At different times, though," he finished hurriedly.

"Well, that's a bitch!"

"Yes, it is. We seduced him and now he's paying us back."

"Cocksucker!"

Todd snickered. "Yes, he was. A tall, golden-haired, bronzed Adonis of a boy who sucked a cock and now wants to forget that he did." Todd smiled at the memory of the Prefect. "He was very good looking and had a set of tackle almost as handsome as the Pride."

"There is nothing that even comes close to the Pride," sniffed Harry, his tone suggesting that the Pride was the most unique organ ever created, and it was not done to even suggest comparing this paragon with another, obviously lesser, penis. After all, one did not compare a Faberge egg to a Hong Kong knock-off. The slight, mocking smile left Harry's face and he kissed Todd gently. "I am truly sorry, Todd. No joking, now. If that fucker will not put in your name then he is a bigger fool that I think he is. And that is saying a lot!"

Todd returned the kiss. "Coming from you, Harry, I know it is."

"You tell me the bastard's name. If I ever run into him he'll regret what he did to you. Nobody fucks with my friends!"

Todd reached down and began to stroke the Pride. "I know that, Harry. If I did not I would not be here. You are a good friend and a good man."

"Ah, fuck, Todd, don't get all sloppy," breathed Harry as the Pride started to rise.

"I'm not. I am thanking a friend for his friendship, for being who he is. For knowing that no matter what happens he will always be there for me." He leaned forward and kissed the tip of the Pride. "Harry, where's the Vaseline?" he asked in a low, husky whisper.

Harry groaned softly, realizing what Todd was about to do. He felt the Pride rise thick, hard, and strong. He looked down at the Pride, then glanced at Todd's slim, trim, erection. The Pride was at least two inches longer and twice as thick as Todd's erection. He remembered the pain of Todd being in him and hesitated. "Todd, you don't have to do this, you know."

"No, I don't," replied Todd as he continued to stroke the Pride. "There are a lot of things I don't have to do. And a few things I do want to do. Where's the Vaseline?"

"Todd, you . . . shit, man, all kidding aside, I'm, well, I'm pretty big!"

Chucking, Todd reached down and scooped up the tube of Vaseline that was lying on the deck. Smiling, he wordlessly placed the open top of the tube over the Pride's swollen mushroom and squeezed a large dollop onto it. He liberally coated the Pride, and then squeezed more of the lubricant onto his fingertips. He reached between his legs and began to massage thick gel around and into his pucker.

Harry watched, fascinated. He gulped and smiled crookedly. "Todd, we don't have to do this. I mean, it's okay with me if we don't."

Todd tossed the now empty tube onto the deck. He reached out and pulled Harry to him. "Harry, it is not okay with me if we don't!"

Afterward they stood in the doorway of the School of Wind and embraced, their kiss deep and passionate. They broke apart and, smiling, they walked through the light drizzle and mist, as close together as they dared. Harry kept his hand close to Todd's, their fingers brushing. They did not dare hold hands.

They passed the Mess Hall, hearing the stentorian snores of Chef, and past the Cooks Barracks where Ray slept, the smile still on his face; where Sandro snuffled and twitched, where Joey and Randy, together now in Joey's bunk, slept front to front, their arms entwined.

They walked on, past the Storekeepers and Signalmen Barracks where Rob sat beside Ryan's bunk, holding the dark-haired boy's hand, just sitting, enjoying the presence of Ryan, and on past the Musicians and Buglers Barracks where Andre dreamed of Nicholas and made small, happy moues of pleasure.

Their footsteps muffled by the rain, they passed the New Entries and General Training Barracks, where Harry's Sea Puppies, talked and giggled out, slept as only innocents can sleep.

In the Boatswains Mess, Steve awoke with a start, hearing the sound of footsteps on the gravel walk, hoping that they heralded the entry of . . . When the footsteps died away he lay back, disappointed. He looked at Stuart, snoring loudly in the bunk beside him. As usual the Buffer's hand was down the front of his sleeping shorts. Steve briefly wondered if Stuart had ever been visited in the night. He decided no, Stuart would have said something.

Steve felt his dick get hard. He sat up, left his bunk and pattered into the heads, fingering the bulge that tented the front of his underpants and, for some strange reason, remembering the morning when Stuart threw his boots at him.

Anson lay awake in the Gunners' Mess, a foolish grin on his face. He listened to the receding footsteps, remembering this morning with Chad, this afternoon with Chad, sitting outside of the Boat Shed with Chad. He did not hear the soft whimpering as Dylan tossed and turned, did not hear the sound of bare feet on the scarred wooden deck as Brian went to his friend, sitting on the bunk, stroking the boy's blonde hair until finally, Dylan's sleep deepened and his tense body relaxed.

Harry and Todd stood in the shadows in the barracks yard, staring into each other's eyes. Harry reached down and took Todd's hands into his own. They stood there, in the rain, each knowing that tonight something very special had happened. No special words were necessary and each knew that for a few nights more they would be lovers.