I apologize for the long dry spell. There have been a lot of changes around here lately, and I really didn't feel much like writing or doing anything else for that matter. This story is inspired by a trip I took recently where I saw two boys working on this well preserved seaplane they said one of their fathers owned. I took a fair amount of license, since neither gave the slightest indication of being gay.
Daniel
Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Make Room For Trouble 1:
Trevan Williams sat in the right seat in the cockpit chewing furiously on a wad of gum and reviewing the course correction that was coming up. Landing in Jamaica was about as challenging as watching moss grow, but his father had taught him to go by the book because that's what good pilots do.
He sighed and adjusted the aviator sunglasses that covered his jade green eyes and looked down at the heading. He reached out and twisted a knob, bringing the well aged converted DC 3 or C-47 Sky Train, a World War II dual engine transport plane, into a wide banking turn, leveling out on the new course. Trevan noted the course change on his note pad and set it aside, burying his nose back into the manual he'd been studying.
The tiny cockpit was overly warm in the mid afternoon sun, and he reached up and opened the top few buttons of his crisp white uniform shirt. Despite the pressed pleated white shorts, a fine sheen of sweat coated the skin on his chest, arms, and legs. He reached over and slid the right side window open a few inches, but the warm trade winds didn't offer much relief.
Trevan was on his way home after spending his seventeenth birthday with his parents and best friend Lance at Disney World in Florida. Glen and Barbara had surprised Trevan with the trip, having to trust Trevan's uncle and some friends to run the tiny airline for them for a week.
Although he would never tell them, Trev had gotten bored after about three days, and so had Lance. They had actually more enjoyed the swimming pool and getting a tan than the visit to the mouse. He was, however, intensely devoted to his father, and would never hurt him by telling him that the parks got old fast.
Trev pulled his 5' 10" muscular frame out of the seat and stretched. It was a long flight back, and they had picked up several passengers, hence the uniforms. He ran his fingers through his sandy sun-bleached hair and yawned, then slid back into the seat. It was bad karma to leave the controls unattended.
Lance Kirby opened the door and let himself in to the tiny cockpit, closing it behind him. Satisfied that it was latched, he bent over and kissed Trev on the lips and then slid into the left seat. "How long, Trev? I have a permanent flat spot on my ass." He said loudly over the sound of the engines. Lance contrasted well with Trevan, his somewhat long dark brown-black hair pulled back, and his dark sapphire eyes scanning out over the open water. Taller by three inches, Lance was of a similar build. "It didn't take this long to get to Florida."
"Actually, it took longer, but we were excited to get there." Trev sipped at the can of Coke near his armrest. "About another hour, Babe. You can make it." He smiled and reached out his hand, extending his index finger. Lance immediately held up his index finger and touched Trevan's. It was like their secret little way to say I love you, and had been for almost the entire year since they'd fallen in love. "Buckle in. You can ghost me on the controls." He pointed at the headphones and mike hanging over Lance's head. "Put those on." Trev put his own on and turned on the system.
Trevan was a U.S. citizen, born in Miami. His father had owned SeaCat's Island Service for sixteen of Trev's seventeen years. They lived in Jamaica, but flew all over the gulf, ferrying passengers, cargo, and mail. It was a charmed life, and Trev loved it.
Lance's father had located to Jamaica with a hotel group, and now ran a large resort hotel. Lance's mother had died in a car accident three years ago, and Mark Kirby had never remarried. Lance and Trev met at school, and had been head over heals since day one, although neither had realized it for a few months.
Both had been invited to a party on the beach, where Lance over heard Trevan talking about piloting a plane with his dad. He had stopped just short of calling Trev a liar, and they'd nearly fought about it. Trevan hotly challenged Lance to come to the small local airport the next day and find out what was true and what wasn't.
After meeting Trevan's dad, they took a short flight out over the sea, piloted almost entirely by Trevan. Not only had he eaten his words, but Lance had fallen in love. It had taken a few weeks for either of them to broach the issue that they were both gay, but after that, they had been nearly inseparable.
Trevan had told his parents about their relationship right away. They had both known for sometime that Trevan had decided he was gay. They were less than excited about this, but they were happy that he'd found a person as decent as Lance.
Lance's dad was not thrilled at all with the development, preferring to ignore it all together, referring to Trevan as Lance's 'friend'. Lance and his father enjoyed a strained relationship, each trying to find ways to talk to the other without a shouting match.
Lance grinned and slid into the seat, pulling the straps over his shoulders. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to fly as well as Trev did. Lance slid his feet onto the pedals and lightly gripped the wheel, feeling an electric thrill run up his spine. He glanced over to see Trev smile at him knowingly.
"Easy." Trev laughed touching Lance's arm. "We're still on auto-pilot."
Lance jerked his hands back in surprise, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." They spent the next forty minutes going over the instruments, studying the layout and uses of each one. Lance jumped when the radio came to life.
"Port Scott, Sierra Charlie one one seven." A deep metallic voice called out, heavily accented. Lance looked at Trev, and Trev nodded. Lance keyed his mike. "Go ahead Port Scott."
"Port Scott, one one seven, It's about time, guys." The voice sounded amused.
"We missed you, too, Michael." Trev said. "We're about two four zero miles out."
"Georgie says he has you in the radar, Mon. He says come left twelve degrees and descend to eight thousand." Michael said.
They laughed at his garbled reference to the radar. "Mickey, it's 'on' the radar." Lance chuckled.
"Whatever, mon. Get your butts on the ground so I can hear about the trip." His voice smiled in tone.
"One one seven, roger." Trev said and adjusted the autopilot to the new heading. A red light came on overhead, and he reached up and slapped the panel. The light went out.
"What was that?" Lance asked worriedly.
"That damn feeder valve relay we put in with dad. I think we pinched the wire." Trev answered disgustedly.
"Is it serious?" Lance looked up as the light came back on.
"Naw." Trev leaned forward and looked at the fuel gauges. "The tanks still have gas in 'em." No sooner had he said that than the right side of the plane shuddered. They looked out the window and saw the engine sputter and cough. Trev looked back into Lance's wide eyes, and reached across the panel for a switch. "Lance, by your left hand is the siphon valve switch. Turn it to the left half way."
The cockpit door opened, and Glen settled into the engineer's seat. "What's happening boy's?" He scanned the board, saw that the right tank now read empty, and that Trev had already started transferring from the left tank to keep the engine going. He smiled with pride. "Not to much, son."
Lance started to get up, unbuckling his belts, and Glen shook his head. "Keep your seat, boy. You're doing fine."
"But he's getting ready to land, Glen, and the engine is dying." Lance swallowed hard.
Glen chuckled and leaned forward. "Adjust the mixture. It's a little thin." He watched as Trev made the adjustments, and they all looked expectantly out the window. The engine coughed again, nearly stopping, and finally caught and came up to speed. "Well done, kid." He ruffled Trev's hair. "Take us in boys." He stood up and left.
Trev heard the door close and let his cheeks puff out in a whoosh. He looked over at Lance and wiped his sweaty bangs back. "I nearly peed my pants." He said into the mike.
"Yeah." Lance swallowed.
The landing was flawless, perfectly smooth. Lance picked up the note pad and put the time down for Trev as they taxied in from the short runway to the small building that housed the Port Scott Air Authority. Trev flared the engines and shut them down after bringing the plane to rest.
Lance slid out of his belts and stood up, holding his hand out to Trevan. They kissed more deeply, and Lance leaned back, smiling slightly. "That was not funny."
"Do you see me laughing?" Trev shook his head. "Jesus."
"You gonna check on Two before we go home?" Lance asked, referring to the William's other plane, the Sea Cat II, a Catalina PBY-5 sea plane that they were nearly done restoring. "The paint should be pretty dry after a week, don't you think?"
"I'd rather go goof off on the beach with you." Trev slapped Lance's ass as they made their way down the sloping deck to the door. "However, since you offered...."
Lance laughed and started down the steps. "I knew you couldn't do it."
"Do what?"
"Leave without drooling on your real love."
Trev looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue before stepping down the short flight of stairs to the ground. "Pretty pathetic to be jealous of a plane, dickhead."
"I'm not jealous, I just know that you're never happier than when you're in the air." Lance shot back.
"Or with you." Trev held out his hand and caught Lance's briefly, then let it go. They walked towards the main hanger in silence, enjoying each other's company. The hanger, an old military building, sat like a huge rusted box, incongruous with the palm trees and the white sand beach less than half a mile away. Large shade trees grew behind it, sheltered from the wind by its bulk, and several smaller planes were parked near it.
Trev unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, jamming it in the pocket of his uniform shorts. His mother would have a fit, but that was okay. Lance did likewise as he followed Trev into the familiar building where they'd spent most of the last six weeks sanding down a world war II dinosaur and getting it ready for painting to match Sea Cat's colors.
Trev gasped and grinned widely, stopping just inside the small man door next to the huge rolling walls. "They got the engines mounted!" He exclaimed and jogged forward. The PBY Catalina sat in the middle of the cavern on its three landing gear, its 104' wingspan nearly touching the sidewalls. Its hull, formerly navy flat blue and covered with rust, gleamed a clean shiny white. The nose had been painted dark blue as well as the bottom of the hull, and a blue and yellow stripe ran from just under the cockpit to the tail. The SeaCat Airlines logo, a cartoon cat water skiing and being pulled by a plane silhouette, was painted under the cockpit windows on each side and on the tail.
"Look at her, she's perfect!" Trev shouted, looking up at the two 1200 horsepower engines. "The cowlings even fit."
"Didn't you think they would?" Lance asked. "I thought that was the whole point of getting the ones in Texas."
"It was. They others would've looked stupid. They were from a different series of Catalina." Trev ran his hand along the hull as he walked towards the small door located near the tail. "They got the bubbles sealed, too." There was a huge bubble window located in front of the tail on each side, offering fantastic views to the passengers.
Lance followed him into the plane and whistled, taking in the new seats and carpet that had been installed for the passenger compartment. "Damn." He said, running his hand over the back of one of the seats. "This is posh, Trev. Like in first class."
"Yeah, dad's going to use this one to charge more per ticket, like VIP flights." Trev made his way up to the cockpit and climbed the short steps to the upper deck. The control panel still had instruments loose, but he could tell that most of the modern avionics had been installed, as well as new control columns. He shook his head in wonder.
Lance climbed up and whistled. "Looks like a computer center in here now."
He moved up behind Trev and slid his arms under the other's, hugging him. "It's beautiful."
Trev leaned back against Lance's chest. He looked out the forward windows and smiled, imagining open sky. "I can't wait to take you up in her."
After one more walk around, they got in Lance's Jeep Wrangler and drove the short distance to Trev's house, a two story old French villa that had once been the center of a plantation. The grounds were somewhat wild except near the house, and although the house was in good repair, it needed paint. By Jamaican standards, the Williams family was wealthy, but few realized that for now, most of the money went into the family airline.
They parked in the circular driveway behind Glen's older S-10 Blazer. There were still a couple of bags in the back of it, so they grabbed them on the way in. Trev climbed the wide steps to the veranda and pulled open the screen door. "Julie?" He called, slinging the bag off his shoulder to the floor.
A heavyset black woman in her late fifties came out of the parlor and grinned, holding out her arms. "There's my Tray-von!" She gushed in a heavy accent. Julietta Pornienn was the family's housekeeper, and she and Trevan were extremely fond of each other. A member of her family had been the head of the house on this plantation for over a hundred and fifty years.
"Wow, am I glad to see you!" Trev hugged her, careful not to hurt her. "I brought you a present."
"I tell you to spend your money and have fun, mister. Didn't I tell you?"
She shook her finger in mock anger and put her hands on her hips. "So, do I like it?"
"Of course you'll like it." Trev chuckled and pulled a box out of his bag.
She took it, eying him suspiciously, and opened the end. Inside was a slender crystal vase about a foot tall, and Julietta dropped the box and gasped. "Tray-von, it's lovely, but so expensive!"
"It's from Lance too." Trev smiled and pulled Lance forward.
"You two are my best boys." She hugged them both at once and began making shooing noises. "Now go upstairs and settle in. Go on. Dinner is ready at five."
"Yes ma'am." Lance laughed and headed up the stairs behind Trevan. "God, she's cool." He said as the entered Trev's room. "I missed her."
"Me too." Trev dumped his bags on the floor and kicked off his white dress shoes and pulled off his socks. "Man, I am sticky. I need a shower." He fumbled with the brass buckle on his white belt and pushed his shorts and underwear down. "Are you staying tonight?"
Lance dropped onto the bed while watching Trev's little strip tease and propped his head on his hand. "Yah mon. Me dad don't get in until tomorrow." He said in a lousy local accent. "He says he's bein' in the Keys 'til then."
Trev shook his head and gathered up his dirty clothes to put in the hamper.
"Boy, you ought to be an actor with talent like that." He ducked a shoe that was thrown his way and laughed, dodging into the bathroom. The shower felt so good, easing the tension out of his shoulders and getting the stickiness off his skin. After he finished, he pulled on a speedo, typical attire at the house, and wandered out into his room. "It's all yours."
Lance sat up from the bed and stretched. "Let's go sit on the beach tonight, just the two of us." He finished the stretch and slipped out of his clothes.
"Cool with me. I'd rather've done that than go to Florida, but don't tell mom and dad." Trev picked up his suitcase and set it on the bed.
Lance kissed him lightly as he passed, headed for the bathroom. "I won't tell. It was a cool trip, though. I had a good time." He emerged a short time later with his long straight dark hair brushed back and wearing a speedo as well.
After putting everything away and getting the empty suitcases from Trev's parents, they put them away and headed down for dinner, stopping for tank tops enroute because Julie didn't allow bare chests at the table. After dinner, they went with Glen down to the strip to put the DC-3 away and refuel it for tomorrow.
It was dark when they got home, and Lance took Trev's hand after they got out of the car, leading him down the bath to the tiny beach that was part of the property. Lance sat on the warm sand and moved his knees apart, making a place for Trevan.
"I missed our beach." Trevan said as he sat down. "If we'd sat like this in Florida, they'd have killed us." He leaned back against Lance's chest. "Ever notice how much time we get together here?"
"Not enough for me." Lance leaned forward and nuzzled Trev's neck with his nose. "I'd spend all my time here if you would."
"This and flying." Trev smiled, feeling a shiver run up his spine. "Stop it, dickhead."
"Blow me." Lance chuckled and licked Trev's skin.
"Later." Trev laughed and leaned forward. "Now stop it."
"Kill joy." Lance reached out and rubbed Trev's shoulders. He tilted his head to the side and bunched up his eyebrows slightly. "Trev, do you love me as much as you love flying?"
Trev looked over his shoulder curiously. "Are you competing with an airplane because you don't have any rivals, or jealous of the only woman I ever spent time with?" He grinned and leaned against Lance and kissed him. "Don't be a dip. Yeah, I love flying, but it's nothing like how I feel about you."
Lance wrapped his arms around Trev's chest. They sat for sometime looking out at the shallow waters just off the beach, neither needing to speak anymore. It was a favorite past time. After awhile, the breeze cooled considerably, and flashes of lightening could be seen out over the ocean. Without a word, they stood up and walked hand in hand up the path to the house.
Trevan woke up at a little past four in the morning shivering. Lance was grafted to his back with his arms around Trev's chest, sucking the heat away. Trev rubbed his eyes and rolled away. They had left the windows open, and a chilly wind gusted in, billowing the curtains. He slipped out of the sheet and jogged over to the window, wishing that he'd worn something to bed.
He looked back at the bed, but dismissed the idea of sleeping again. Trev was always an early riser, and usually got up about five, following the habits of his father. He pulled a light blanket over Lance and left him sleeping to go shower and get dressed.
Glen sat at the kitchen table sipping a mug of coffee and going through the mail that had accumulated during the family's week in Florida. He looked up as Trevan came down the back stairs. "Morning, kiddo. Sleep good?"
Trev nodded and poured some OJ. "Amazing isn't it, how you always sleep best in your own bed?"
Glen smiled. "Amen. That was a great hotel, but it was also a hell of a long haul."
"You flying today, Dad?" Trev took his usual seat at his father's right. "That's a strong wind."
"The flights at ten, so we'll see. We need to make every flight we can right now. Uncle Matt has three bookings today, so I hope the weather clears." Glen tore open an envelope and pulled out the contents. "Hey, looky here. This one's from Sir Geoffrey." Sir Geoffrey Andon Pettenbrook was a long time family friend that lived on an estate near by. Glen and Sir Geoffrey met at a plane auction and shared a love for classic birds. Sir Geoffrey owned one of few surviving British Spitfires, and a B-17. He was also one of Glen's primary investors.
"He's coming back from Wales in a couple of days." Glen smiled and set the letter down. "His grandson Peter with him. He's about your age isn't he?"
Brian nodded. "A year older. He was the one that was here last summer. He's okay."
"You wanna go with to pick ' em up?"
"Sure." Trevan stood up and went for the coffee pot to top off their mugs.
"Can I go with you today?"
"You'd be more help if you got the tires changed on the PBY." Glen referred to Trevan's seaplane. "We might be able to try a short flight tomorrow if the crews get some extra time today because of the rain."
"I'll get Michael to help me." Trevan set the pot on the table and sat down. "Maybe Lance after he sees his dad."
"I knew I could count on you." Glen smirked. "Why, I wonder, weren't you this helpful when we did the DC-3?"
Trevan grinned. "Okay, I'm busted."
"I've got to go, sport. See you tonight." Glen stood up and touched him on the shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself moving those wheels around."
"I won't."
Lance woke up at just past ten, blinking blearily into the sunlight filtering through the blinds. He could hear the surf washing up on the beach in the back of the house, and his thoughts turned to Trevan. His favorite place to wake up was in Trevan's bed, in Trevan 's house, almost pretending to belong to the Williams family. It would be so cool if it were true.
He stretched luxuriously, splaying his fingers wide and curling his toes. With a sigh, he tossed the sheets aside, scratched the inside of his thigh, and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom to shower. It was strange how he felt absolutely no embarrassment being nude in Trevan's room, but to walk from his own room to the bathroom in his underwear was unthinkable.
Trevan's family was so unconcerned about modesty, or uptight about decorum.
Lance's father on the other hand was, as Lance put it, sphincter locked, incapable of the slightest loosening of his ass to have a good time. His long hair drove his father insane, even though his overly proper sense of order wouldn't allow him to outright mention it to his son. Instead, he apologized frequently to guests for Lance's "going through a challenging phase."
Lance turned the water on and stepped into the shower, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly, the only outward evidence of his thoughts. As he began to lather himself, his mind wandered to the times he'd tried to crack his father's proper shell. Only three days after they had figured out how they felt about each other, Lance had maneuvered Trevan into sex at his house, knowing that his father would get home and likely find them.
He did, but having lost track of his plan because of the pleasures of Trevan, Lance never noticed his father looking through the door crack, and never heard his dad get back in the car and leave, returning after Trevan had left. To this day, Lance could not prove that he'd even remotely fazed his dad, although their relationship was more like co-workers than family.
After the shower, he pulled on a speedo (standard equipment since moving here), denim cutoffs, and a tank top. He grabbed his flip-flops on the way out and headed down the stairs. Trevan's mother Barbara and Julietta had apparently gone into town, leaving the house empty. Lance made himself a sandwich and ate it before heading for home to face his father. He left a note thanking the William's for the trip to Florida and sighed as he signed it. This house was more his home than his own was, and Glen and Barbara more his parents. With a wistful glance over his shoulder, he left.
Port Scott was a small town outside Montego Bay, virtually ignored by tourists, and totally ignored by history. It's population mostly worked in Montego Bay in the tourist industries, coming home each night to sleep. Lance drove his Jeep up from the beach road and down the sleepy main street.
Two or three people waved as he road by, relatives of his father's employees. He smiled and waved back. It amazed him that for only being in Jamaica just over a year, everyone knew him. Then again, he thought bitterly, most of them worked for his dad.
Maybe that's why he loved Trevan and his family so much. They weren't dependant on his father in the slightest. In fact, the opposite was somewhat true, since Glen and the other pilots routinely brought in tourists and took them back, many of them staying in Montego Bay.
Lance slowed to pull into the driveway and stopped, looking at his home. A troubled expression settled on to his slim features. HE sighed and ran his hand through his hair and looked away from the shady yard in front of the house. He missed his dad, but only in a vague way. He also had felt tension building in his chest as he got closure to the house, knowing that it was a matter of time before the next fight.
"Fuck this." Lance mumbled quietly. With a sharp pang of guilt and a private breath of relief, he put the Jeep in gear and turned towards the Port Smith Aerodrome, the airport that Trevan's family worked out of, and gunned the accelerator.
Trevan wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, totally unaware of the black grease he was smearing on himself. He stood up slowly and stretched, feeling his back rebel. "Are we done?" He asked Michael, holding out his hand to pull the tall thin black man to his feet.
"Yeah, that's it. The seal is back in place, Trev." Michael twisted to the left, then right, stretching himself out. "Your father will be very pleased. I didn't think we'd get all of the tires on today."
"I didn't think we'd have to pack all the goddamn axels either." Trev walked over to a tool kit on the floor and sat on it.
"Cheer up." Michael smiled broadly. "After you get cleaned up, you get to taxi your baby out to the line. Might as well get her ready for her first flight tomorrow."
Trevan grinned. "Yeah. We can file the flight plan for dad after we move it."
"Imagine, being the first to fire her up." Michael reached up and touched the hull of the plane.
"It's all I've been able to think about." Trevan jumped up with a new found energy. He jogged towards the showers and locker room at the back of the hanger. "Hurry up, Mickey! We're burning daylight." He pulled his shirt off as he pushed through the door.
In his locker there was a duffle bag with a change of clothes, kept here because it was almost as impossible for Trevan to come to the field and not get dirty as it was for his father. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his shorts, stopping only long enough to kick his underwear onto the pile. After getting wet all over, he slathered mechanic's soap all over his arms, legs, and face, scrubbing the axel grease away.
"Trev?" Lance callout as he stepped into the locker room.
"In here." Trev picked up a bar of regular soap and quickly scrubbed off the gritty residue of the mechanic's soap. "Go holler at Michael and tell him to hurry up. I want to move Cat Two out on the line."
"I passed him outside." Lance called back. He bent over and opened Trevan's pack and pulled out some clothes. "He was opening the back doors to the hanger." He smirked and held up a metallic looking purple speedo. "Is this the suit you bought in Orlando?"
"Yeah, it is." Trev turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel off the shelves on the wall. "I was going to come and rescue you from your dad after we got done, but you've saved me a trip." He walked over and kissed Lance, then scrubbed his hair dry.
"I didn't feel like waiting." Lance mumbled quietly. He held out the suit to Trev and smiled weakly.
Twenty minutes later they stood near the plane as a still damp Michael trotted up to them. Trev handed them each a Ground Radio Headset. Michael smiled broadly and without a word walked towards the front of the plane. Lance took his and looked into Trevan's eyes.
"Don't hit the side of the hanger." He said and winked. Trev shook his head and stepped into the plane. He pulled on his own headset and climbed the steps into the cockpit. A shiver ran up his spine as he settled into the left seat slowly. He reached out and stroked the control grips. "Okay, baby. It's time." One after the other, he turned on the main power, brand new onboard computer, and radio. "Heads up guys. Are we live?"
Lance held up a thumb as did Michael, and there was a faint crackle in his ear. "So start the goddamned plane, Trev. We're dyin' out here." Lance said. Trevan chuckled and keyed his mike. "Even with all the new shit it takes a few minutes. Keep your pants on."
"First time I heard him say that to me." Lance looked over at Michael. Michael shook his head and folded his arms. "Mon, that's ten times what I wanted to know." They both looked up at the windshields.
Trevan reached up and flipped a red cover down. "Starting one." He glanced to the left and heard the engine start to whine. The plane vibrated as the prop began to turn and spun, becoming a blur. He glanced out the window where Lance stood, now holding a fire extinguisher. Lance smiled and held his thumb up, and Trevan looked up again, flipping open another covered switch. "Starting two."
Michael began to clap and laugh as the second engine caught and came up to speed. "She's alive. Trevan my friend!" He shouted into the radio. "Are you ready to give her some sun?" He walked over to the wall and took a pair of orange batons off a shelf to guide Trev out.
Trev flipped the radio over to standard. "Port Smith Tower, this is SeaCat Two, Sierra Victor 426. Request permission to taxi to the parking ramp."
"Cat Two, you're cleared to taxi. You have no local traffic on the ground.
Just as a heads up, young man, Cat One is twenty minutes out. Don't scratch her." George's smile was clear in the sound of his voice. "Use pad thirty one."
"Roger, tower." Trev reached down and took a hold of the throttles. "Here we go boys." The pitch of the engines changed slightly, and the Catalina moved forward slowly, turning its nose towards the doors. When he was lined up, Trev pushed the throttles a little farther, following Michael and the batons. They were just clear of the hanger and he glanced out the side window. Lance waved and smiled, then trotted up with Michael.
It only lasted for a few minutes, but Trevan was in heaven. Tomorrow, not only would Cat Two taxi again, but with his father home, she'd fly again. After almost a year, she was ready. Carefully, he guided the glistening white bird to its assigned pad, and with a pang of regret, shut down the engines. As Lance and Michael chocked the wheels, Trev looked up in time to see his father on final approach. The Cat One waggled its wings, and Trev smiled at the message.
Several hours later, Trevan sat on the beach looking at the sunset. He'd taken off his clothes an hour ago, and sat with his legs crossed holding a can of Coke. HE listened as a swishing noise gave away Lance coming from the house. One by one, Lance's sandals, tank top, and speedo landed in a pile near the blanket, and Trev leaned forward as his love moved in behind him and wrapped strong arms around his torso. "Was he home?"
"Hmmm." Lance mumbled and buried his face in the crook of Trev's neck and shoulder.
"Don't wanna talk about it?" Trev reach up and rubbed Lance's neck gently.
"There's nothing there, Trev. I'm not even trying anymore."
Trev turned around and reached up to stroke Lance's cheek. "Ah, baby, I'm sorry." He leaned up and kissed the other just barely on the lips. For a second, it almost looked like Lance was going to cry. "I love you, Lance, you know that, right?"
Lance nodded. "Yeah, I do." He said quietly. He put up absolutely no resistance as Trevan pushed him back on the blanket and began to plant light kisses on his chest. It was like he was a sponge that could only soak up one thing, and that was Trev. Slowly, the shouting match with his father began to fade, and there was nothing in the world but the attentions of the one he loved. No, worshiped would be more accurate. The entire universe at times was Trevan.
Trev was encouraged as he felt Lance relax under his touch. He moved lower, alternating kisses and tongue flicks on Lance's sculpted abs. Lance moaned and goose flesh popped up on his legs and arms. Trevan chuckled and reached over to stroke what was rapidly hardening.
"Oh." Lance moaned quietly. He raised one of his legs involuntarily only to have Trev push it back down. He nearly convulsed as he felt Trev's mouth suddenly enclose around his hard on. "Holy shit." Trev began a very slow up and down rhythm, interrupted occasionally with long strokes of his tongue. Lance arched his back curled his toes hard, feeling fire build in his nerves.
"Whoa!" Trev was surprised as he was pushed back, Lance's lips immediately meeting his. The kissed long, and finally Lance shifted so that they could both use their mouths. It was their favorite position. They had tried the anal stuff, and neither had liked it as much. Occasionally, they screwed each other blind, but they preferred this most of all.
After the orgasms had subsided, they stayed in each other's arms for hours into the night, watching the moon cross the sky.