Fly Boyz X2
Part A: Greg
"All right men, bail out. Now!" Captain Stokes ordered over the radio. He struggled to hold the wings steady but he knew it was only a matter of time 'til the bomber punched it. He glanced back toward the orange glow lighting the tail section and sent up a quick prayer that the gunner had already bailed out.
The navigator burst into the cockpit and checked the copilot, who was sitting slumped over his controls. "He's dead, sir," he shouted over the roar of the engines.
"What the fuck are you doing here man? Get out!" Captain Stokes yelled. "Now!"
"Waiting for you, Captain."
"I can't leave 'til everyone is out. Jump! Now! That's an order!"
"Yes, sir." Lt Sanders saluted, not moving from his position in the cockpit.
One look at his Lt's stoic face told Captain Stokes that he was not going to win this particular battle, so he rose from his seat and gave the young Lt a shove toward the open bomb bay doors. "I'll be right behind you," he assured the Lt, hustling the younger man toward the gaping hole. "See you down there!"
The Lt grinned broadly, the light not reaching his grim eyes, and jumped, pulling the cord. Nick drew a sigh of relief as he saw the chute blossom against the night sky. He clutched his rip cord and inhaled deeply before taking the leap himself.
He peered through the darkness, trying to make out any other parachutes. The flaming B17 veered sideways before nosing down into a spin. If Nick ever caught up with his insubordinate Lt he would give him a dressing down that the young man would not soon forget. They'd both gotten out, but only just in time.
Sending up another prayer for the eight other men in his crew, Nick turned his attention to his landing. His feet hit the ground hard, jarring up his legs and he braced himself against the drag of the chute. He yanked on it, pulling it to him and bundled it as tightly as possible under his jacket. Fucking white parachutes, he'd like to know what genius came up with that idea. Might as well send out a flare to any Germans in the vicinity if you had to jump at night.
He saw a dark line of trees blotting out the stars on the horizon and jogged toward it. He had to hide himself and the parachute until he knew the coast was clear and, if he was lucky, he'd be miles away by the time the Nazi patrols came to investigate.
He'd just reached the tree line when a flash of white off to the left caught his attention. He froze and, peering keenly into the darkness, was able to make out another figure staggering towards the trees. From what he could make out in the dim moonlight, the white appeared to be a parachute which meant that it was one of his men. He whistled like a barn owl.
The other man froze and turned his way. Nick ran toward him and saw that it was his young navigator.
"Greg!" Nick gasped, dropping his chute to gather the other man into a bear hug.
"Unh," came a muffled groan and Greg winced away from Nick's body.
"You're hurt, what is it?" Captain Stokes whispered.
"My arm, I think it's broken," Lt Sanders responded, cradling his left arm.
Nick nodded, quickly calculating their options and pushed him under the shelter of the trees. "Wait for me here. I have to get rid of the chutes."
He bundled both chutes together and hustled into the woods, looking for a likely spot. He found an old fallen tree, the convenient depression where it once stood filled with dead leaves. Carefully he scraped the top layer to the side and then dug through the rotting loam, hoping that he'd be able to make the hollow deep enough to take both the chutes. With his jackknife, he cut away several long strips of the silk and stuffed them into his pocket. Tossing the parachutes into the hole, he kicked the rotting leaves over them covering them thoroughly and then sifted the dried leaves on top, praying that, in the dim light, he was making it look natural.
He then searched the surrounding area for a couple of straight, smooth sticks and was lucky enough to find some.
He returned to where he'd left his young Lt, finding him leaning up against a tree, looking out to the field. "Spot anything?"
Lt Sanders shook his head.
"Follow me," Nick whispered. "Step where I step. Don't shuffle. If you feel a twig underfoot, don't put your weight on it. Try not to disturb the ground cover."
Lt Sanders nodded his understanding and set off after his superior officer. Captain Stokes led the way deeper into the woods, noticing that although the Lt was still cradling his arm, he followed in his footsteps exactly, stepping softly.
Finally, Nick spotted a likely tree. It would take some effort to get the both of them up there, but that in itself would make it less likely that the Germans would look there. Plus the sky was beginning to lighten and they needed to get out of sight.
He whispered into Lt Sanders' ear. "I'm going to boost you into the tree. You have to hang on so I can pull myself up by your legs. Think you can do it?"
"Yes, sir," came the soft whisper.
Quickly, Nick bent, clasping his hands together so Greg could step up. As soon as Greg's boot hit his hand, Nick boosted him up and Greg caught the branch with his good hand, squirming up until he was bent over it on his stomach. "Okay, Captain, all set."
Nick took a running start and grabbed on, swinging his legs up to grip the branch. He muscled his way up and helped Greg to sit upright. From there it was an easy climb to a higher spot where two branches met at the trunk, forming a small hollow where both men could sit. It was a tight squeeze but better than a roomy cell any time.
Looking down, Nick couldn't see the ground through the canopy of leaves so he had to hope a soldier on the ground wouldn't be able to spot them either.
"Let me see that arm," he whispered.
Greg held out his arm and Nick eased his leather jacket off and rolled up his sleeve. One glance at the rapidly swelling forearm combined with the hiss of pain Greg gave as Nick moved his wrist was enough to convince him that it was indeed broken. He produced the sticks and strips of silk from the parachute and splinted the arm with the Lt's assistance. Greg rolled down his sleeve and carefully pulled his jacket back on. "Thanks, Captain," he whispered.
They sat silently, straining to hear any noises beyond the normal rustling of the night creatures. An owl swooped low, startling them both. Finally they heard some voices in the distance and Lt Sanders cocked his head, listening intently.
"They're coming this way. They're looking to see if anyone bailed out."
"You speak German?"
"Some, it's a bit like Norwegian and I learned a little."
They heard noises as the German soldiers half-heartedly searched the forest. After a bit Lt Sanders started shaking, and Captain Stokes was seriously worried that he was succumbing to shock or something worse. However, a glance at the younger mans' face reassured him for Lt Sanders was wearing a huge grin and he was shaking with silent laughter.
Eventually the soldiers moved off and the sounds gradually diminished.
After an hour of silence, Nick ventured to ask, "What was so funny?"
"I guess soldiers in every service, er, question the orders from their superiors, sir," was all Lt Sanders would say flashing a demure smile and Nick had an idea that curse words figured high on the list of the German the Lt had picked up.
After the Germans moved off, the rush of adrenaline which had been sustaining both men at a high level of alertness faded, and they started to feel their fatigue.
"I'll take the first watch. You get some rest," Nick whispered.
Greg nodded, but his eyes remained open and Nick could see the glitter from them in the dawn light. After 15 minutes or so Greg's head started to droop. He started and pulled himself upright but finally gave up the struggle and sagged into sleep. Nick began dozing off as well, only to be pulled back to consciousness by a rattling noise. Opening his eyes to locate it, he realized the young Lt's teeth were chattering with cold. Not wanting the young man to injure himself further with his involuntary shudders, he pulled Greg into his arms, settling his head on his shoulder and tried to warm him.
The warmth of the slender body lulled him into a doze and finally the two men slept, huddled together in the tree.
Nick woke as the sun was sinking in the west. He felt stiff and his back was cold, although he was nice and warm wherever he touched Greg. He waited patiently for the younger man to wake up and finally Lt Sanders stretched and let out a low groan. Nick clapped a hand over his mouth and Greg's eyes flew open, startled. The Captain smiled at him reassuringly, relaxing as the panic left the navigator's eyes.
"I should scout around a bit," he said in a low voice.
"Wait a minute," Greg said, removing Nick's hand from his mouth. "I've got a map and a compass. We went down near the border of Switzerland. I think we're only about twenty to twenty-five miles out. We can walk it, if we do it at night. It lies to the south of where we are now; you'd better take the compass with you."
"What the fuck were we doing near Switzerland?" Nick sputtered.
"When we were hit, I knew Switzerland was the closest neutral territory so I headed us there. I figured we could hoof it if we came down on land, sir."
Captain Stokes looked at his navigator admiringly. "I didn't order you to do that, did I?"
"We can say that you did, sir," the Lt said cheerfully. "You were busy and I figured you wouldn't mind. Much."
"Now, if only we had some food," Nick said mournfully.
"I've got some chocolate," offered Greg.
"Wow, you are prepared," Nick murmured.
Greg blushed. "Actually no, just got a sweet tooth, sir."
"Well it came in handy," Nick grinned. "Hand it over."
Greg groaned softly as he moved to sit upright, realizing for the first time that he'd been huddled against his Captain all this time. "Can you get it, sir? It's on the right side, inside pocket."
Nick's hand brushed against Greg's warm torso and Greg stifled a gasp, looking down to avoid Nick's eyes. Nick froze for a second and then continued the search, withdrawing his hand to triumphantly brandish a pound bar of chocolate.
"You do have a sweet tooth," he said, awed. "If we ration it, it should see us to the border."
With difficulty he broke off a piece and gave it to Greg, who held it until he'd snapped off another and put it into his mouth. He broke the remaining chocolate in half, wrapping each part in the torn paper. He tucked one half back in Greg's pocket. "In case we get separated. I'm gonna see if I can find water."
Greg nodded and leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. Nick was anxious about leaving him, but he couldn't risk taking the Lt with him, his face was white and etched with pain and he would need all his strength for their journey. "I'll be back," he whispered.
How about "Nick took his time scouting and returned to the tree just as night was falling, a fully formed plan now firmly sorted in his mind. "Lt!" he called softly.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Greg's voice sounded angry and scared. "Sir," he added belatedly.
"Can you jump down if I catch you?" asked Nick, deciding to ignore the insubordinate tone of the Lt's voice.
"Yes, sir."
Greg climbed down to the lowest branch and held himself steady with his good hand. At Nick's nod, he let go and dropped into Nick's arms. After an awkward moment during which they stared into each other's eyes, Nick released him. "How's the arm?"
"S'fine. Sir."
"We have to move fast," Nick said heading off to the south. Greg nodded and followed him, being careful to tread only where his superior did. Stopping at the small brook that Nick had found on his reconnaissance, they both drank as much as they could, having nothing to carry water in.
Checking the map and compass, they struck a course that kept them heading roughly south.
"I figure we can make, maybe, 15 miles if we're lucky. Hide out tomorrow and then tomorrow night, we should make the border."
Greg nodded and plowed on behind Nick, thankful that the way they walked was sheltered by thick forests. They drank at every stream and, toward dawn, found themselves near a farm house. After a brief discussion, they decided it was too risky to approach and remained deep in the forest. They found a thick stand of brush and crawled inside, settling in for the day. Nick made sure to cover their tracks and sighed to himself as Greg fell asleep immediately. Nick wondered what the trek was costing him, but he had never uttered a word of complaint.
He woke suddenly from a deep sleep to the sound of voices. He rolled on top of Greg and put his hand over his mouth, shaking him awake. Greg's eyes came open and he looked up into Nick's eyes, nodding when he heard the voices. Nick took his hand away and lowered his head to breathe into Greg's ear, "Getting it?"
Greg nodded. They lay frozen in silence as footsteps came closer and closer. The voices chattered cheerfully as the men moved towards them and Greg strained to catch what they were saying. The men apparently decided this was a fine spot for a picnic and settled in, spending a good forty-five minutes in the secluded clearing. Finally a third voice was heard in the distance and the two shuffled off.
The tension drained from Nick's body and he relaxed over Greg, breathing deeply. Greg whispered, "Woodcutters, not soldiers." Nick turned his head and whispered back, "That was too fucking close." Greg nodded as their eyes met.
Maybe it was the stress of the moment, maybe it was long suppressed desire, but Nick couldn't resist kissing the younger man trapped beneath him. He swallowed the stifled moan that Greg let out, deepening the kiss as the Lt opened his mouth under his determined assault. Their tongues swirled together, and Nick ground his hips down against Greg. Greg grabbed the back of Nick's head with his good hand, crushing their lips together bruisingly and shifted under him. With his splinted arm he reached around Nick's back, holding him as tightly as he could.
They rubbed frantically against each other, silently writhing on the soft forest floor. Nick suddenly remembered Greg's injured arm and rolled onto his side, bringing Greg with him. With his good hand, Greg reached for the bulge straining the crotch of Nick's pants and pulled down the zipper. Nick's hips bucked with his surprise and he wrenched his mouth off Greg's to gasp, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Trying to make my superior officer comfortable, sir," Greg whispered with a huge grin. He levered himself upright and slid down Nick's body. Nick gasped and thrust into Greg's mouth as he felt the warmth and wetness surround his erect cock.
Greg took the head into his mouth and licked all around it, carefully nibbling the sensitive ridge. He licked a hot line down the shaft, smiling as Nick stifled a moan. Finally, relaxing his throat, he took in as much as he could, gripping the base with his good hand. He set a slow pace but Nick soon lost control and his hips thrust up powerfully, fucking Greg's mouth. Greg closed his eyes and hummed in contentment, savoring the taste and the delicious hardness of his superior officer. He sucked hard, all soft lips and tongue, holding the base of Nick's cock to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.
Nick felt the vibration caused by Greg's humming and the intensity built in his groin, burning with the need for release. His hips flexed faster and he gripped Greg's head, holding him steady as he thrust hard into the warm heat of his mouth. He knew he was on the brink and tried to warn Greg, but couldn't get out more than a gasping, "Greg!"
Greg closed his eyes, swallowing Nick's load with satisfaction. He cleaned Nick's cock and then paused, struggling with the task of how to put him back in order with only one hand. Nick's hands came down and he took care of it himself.
"Thank you, Lt," he said softly.
"My pleasure, sir," Lt Sanders replied promptly. He wriggled a little, trying to ease his own erection.
"Hold still, I'll get it for you," Nick murmured into Greg's ear, his breath hot against the shell, tongue darting out for a quick taste.
"Oh, no, sir, there's no need," Lt Sanders responded.
"On your back, fly boy, and that's an order," Captain Stokes commanded. He wasn't quite sure how to do this and, obviously, either Lt Sanders was an extremely gifted natural or had gained experience somewhere. But he wanted desperately to taste the other man, to feel a hard dick in his mouth. So he tried to think of anything anyone had ever done to him that he'd enjoyed and imitate it. First he swirled his tongue around the head, encouraged by the movement of Greg's hips and the tiny sound that escaped his throat. He looked up to see the Lt lying with his mouth open, good arm thrown across his eyes, back arching off the ground, breathing heavily. He knew the feeling.
Nick grinned and dipped down again to take the head into his mouth and suck. Delicious. He'd never wanted to do this for anyone before, usually the other man was on his knees to Nick, but there was something about Lt Sanders. Those eyes, those lush lashes contrasted against the creamy skin that flushed so beautifully whenever Nick got a little too close. Whenever Lt Sanders sprang to attention, Nick's cock followed suit. And after all the fear and tension of the day, he would be damned if he didn't take this chance while he could.
Greg moved his fist into his mouth, biting it to smother the involuntary sounds as the Captain slowly tortured him with his delicate attention. Nick wasn't sure he could take in as much as Greg had, but he tried to relax and swallow as much of the beautiful, stiff erection as he could. He let his saliva drip into his fist and stroked the length he couldn't take, holding Greg's hip down with his other hand. Greg sounded as if he might explode with the slow pace the Captain set. He couldn't thrust into the other man's mouth with his hip pressed to the ground but despite this restraint he felt the wave of his orgasm wash over him far too quickly. With a small whimper, he released into Nick's mouth, wishing he could scream his ecstasy to the world instead.
Nick put Greg's cock back in his pants and zipped him up, then scooted up his body to kiss him again. "We're gonna have to do that again when we have more time," he whispered.
"Yes sir!" Greg responded enthusiastically, enjoying the taste of himself on the other mans lips.
"I'm afraid we'll have to make a move now," Nick answered with another kiss. He pulled Greg to his feet, noticing him weave slightly. He laughed to himself. He knew that feeling too.
They plodded through the night without further incident. It was about 4 am when they approached the Swiss border. They could see the checkpoint with the Nazi guards and sat down to rest, wondering how they could circumvent the border check. It seemed like miles of barbed wire was strung along either side of the gate.
"Hände hoch!"
Both men looked at each other regretfully and raised their arms.
"Amerikaner?"
Captain Stokes spun to look at their captor, who turned out to be a young man of about nineteen with a gun. "Yes," he answered shortly.
"Name, rank, serial number?"
Both Americans reeled off their information.
The young man lowered his gun. "You are looking for a way into die Schwiez?"
Greg and Nick looked at each other, hope dawning in their eyes.
"Ja. Können Sie uns helfen?" Greg asked.
"Sie sprechen Deutsches?"
"Nur ein bisschen."
"Wundervoll. Folgen Sie mir."
"Wo Sie uns nehmend sind?"
"In Die Schweiz. Sie möchten dort gehen, nach rechts? Ich bin kein Nazi." The young man smiled widely at them. "Ich mag Amerikaner."
"What's he saying?" Nick asked urgently.
"He says he'll take us across and he's no Nazi, he likes Americans," Greg said with a tense smile. "I hope he's telling us the truth."
They followed as the young man led them further south to a spot out of sight of the border where the barbed wire had been cut and arranged to look as if intact. He pointed a way through the maze. He pressed a small scrap of paper into Greg's hand. "Go there, please. Krankenhaus, sie helfen."
"Dankeschön, vielen dank." Greg shook the young man's hand fervently. Nick did as well and said, "If you're ever in Texas, look us up."
The young man laughed and nodded. "Go. Schnell!" He turned away and the two Americans crawled through the wire to the other side. Without a backwards glance they set out for the town, bypassing the border.
The sun was just coming up when they reached the hospital. As soon as they set foot inside, hospital staff whisked them away from the door. After a frenzy of questioning and x-raying, they were finally left together in a small room with two narrow metal beds and Greg's arm was set and splinted.
Captain Stokes waited until the last nurse left the room and crossed to Greg's bed. Shoving him closer to the wall he got in, pulling Greg into his arms and resting his head on his shoulder. He kissed him softly and Greg responded sleepily in spite of the shot he'd been given.
"Ever think of living in Texas?"
"Um, no, sir, I haven't."
"Well you should give it some thought," Captain Stokes said with a grin.
"How come you wanted to do Europe?"
"I know about the Pacific theater, but you know, Papa Olaf. The war in Europe is what I grew up hearing about. For me, it's the war."
Pausing to reflect on something they could barely comprehend, both men sat silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Greg sighed and turned to Nick who grabbed his hand and said soberly "To Papa Olaf."
Translation:
The young man lowered his gun. "You are looking for a way into Switzerland?"
Greg and Nick looked at each other, hope dawning in their eyes.
"Yes. Can you help us?" Greg asked.
"You speak German?"
"Only a little."
"Wonderful. Follow me."
"Where are you taking us?"
"To Switzerland. That's where you want to go, right? I'm not a Nazi." The young man smiled widely at them. "I like Americans."
"What's he saying?" Nick asked urgently.
"He says he'll take us across and he's no Nazi, he likes Americans," Greg said with a tense smile. "I hope he's telling us the truth."
But the young man led them further to the south to a spot out of sight of the border where the barbed wire had been cut and arranged to look as if intact. He pointed a way through the maze. He pressed a small scrap of paper into Greg's hand. "Go there, please. Hospital, they'll help you there."
"Thank you, thank you very much." Greg shook the young man's hand fervently. Nick did as well and said, "If you're ever in Texas, look us up."
The young man laughed and nodded. "Go. Quickly!"
Part Deux: Nick
"Damn college flyboy," Nick growled, watching the Thrush come in for a landing. He strode forward onto the tarmac to meet the young punk with the reaming he deserved.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing out there, you asshole!" he yelled as Greg pushed back the cowling and hopped out onto the wing.
"What the fuck are you talking about, old man? You wanted the fucking fire put out, didn't you?"
"When you fly with me, you do as you're told, you cocksucker!"
"You wish!" Greg snapped, walking away from the older man.
"You can't dive like that–" Nick grabbed the younger man's arm, yanking him to a halt.
"You can't dive like that in that fucking tank you fly," taunted Greg. "The Thrush is built for it. I can go where you can't, dive, pick up a load and lift up again where you can't. And I can do a turn around in under two minutes. So don't you fucking tell me what I can and can't do based on your limitations."
Nick reined in his temper. "Greg, listen, I've flown every fucking thing that can drop water from an M18 to a 'copter. That fucking puddle-jumper you fly bounces on the hot air rising off the fire. You drop the load and your nose could pitch up suddenly, you lose air speed and you punch a fucking hole in the ground. You're not much of a loss but we can't afford to lose the fucking airplane." By the time Nick finished he was yelling again and a crowd of men had gathered around. "And with that broken arm you are not 100. You're not fit. Fuck, I shouldn't be letting you fly at all." He turned and walked away, muttering, "Fucking college kid."
Greg stood looking after him, an angry flush coloring his cheeks. "Thinks he's a fucking big man, I'd like to see him try to out-fly me." He walked to his bungalow to clean up and wash the dirt and frustration away. After a quick shower, he went over to the canteen to relax over an ice cold beer.
He rolled his eyes and retired to a far table with his beer. Nick was shouting at the bar with a couple of his cronies, yelling about college kids and how things were done in his day and these new flyers who couldn't hold their wings level on windless day.
A few of the younger men came over to Greg's table, sitting down to join him. "How do you get away with mouthing off to him?" David asked.
"Because he can't afford to lose me," Greg replied arrogantly. "He knows I can fly as fucking well as he can, probably better."
"Shit, man! Don't talk so loud, he'll hear you!"
"So? It's the fucking truth and he knows it," Greg laughed. "I got nothing to hide."
"Sanders, running your fucking mouth off as usual?" Nick actually looked more amused than angry.
"As usual, sir," Greg replied mockingly.
"Better take care of that mouth, you may need all that hot air to blow yourself back to base one of these days when you ditch that puddle-jumper," Nick laughed.
"Oh, I'm sure you can supply enough hot air to get us all back to base, sir" Greg laughed back.
Nick walked away shaking his head. "Cocksure young asshole."
Greg finished his third beer and decided to call it a night. He walked back to his bungalow, feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed and just slightly buzzed from the alcohol. He stepped inside and was instantly pinned up against the wall, held in place by strong hands while Nick's mouth was crushed to his, tongue demanding entrance.
Gasping, his mouth opened and Nick's tongue was inside. Shoving hard against the larger man, Greg fought back, nipping his lips and thrusting his own tongue inside Nick's mouth and sucked the older mans' tongue strongly.
"You little cocksucker!" Nick groaned.
"You wish you had enough to suck," Greg jeered.
"On your knees, flyboy." Nick pushed Greg to his knees and unzipped his pants.
"You got a fire you want put out?"
"You think you can do it, college boy?"
"You know I can," Greg said throatily and leaned forward to capture Nick's cock in his mouth. He sucked greedily, working the shaft with his good hand, swirling his tongue around the head and licking the ridge, pressing the sensitive vein that throbbed underneath.
Nick threw back his head and howled, holding Greg's head firmly in place as he thrust his hips forward faster. Greg gagged but sucked noisily as he struggled to swallow the rigid length.
"Enough!" Nick gasped. "I'm going to fuck your tight little ass till you can't sit down for a week."
"Is that a promise?" Greg let go of Nick's cock with a little slurpy noise and moved his fingers around to knead his ass, giving one final lick along the underside of the shaft.
"You know it is," Nick said, hauling him to his feet.
"Bring it on, old man. Let's see what you got."
"Always so fucking cocky," murmured Nick into his mouth. Then he spun him suddenly to face the wall, placing his hands flat against it. "Don't move," he ordered.
Greg stood obediently still as Nick's hands gripped his waist, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He pushed them to the floor and kicked Greg's feet as wide as they could go while still trapped in the pants. Greg felt a slippery finger probe his entrance and bent over more, pushing his ass into Nick's hand. The finger slipped in to the hilt and Nick's palm cupped Greg's ass.
Greg whimpered and pushed back harder. "Is that the best you can do old man?" he panted.
Nick pulled his finger out and replaced it with two, making Greg jump at the sudden invasion. He moved his fingers impatiently, getting the younger man ready.
"Fuck, just… do it already… please," Greg moaned.
"Please what, flyboy? Tell me exactly what you want or you're not going to get it. Beg for it!"
"Please shove your hard cock up my ass and fuck me till I'm screaming for it and I can't stand up I'm shaking so bad," Greg growled.
"Is this what you want?" Nick held his cock so it teased Greg's entrance. Greg pushed back and Nick moved away.
"Yes, I want your cock up my ass…now!" Greg snarled. "Fuck me, dammit! I want to feel this tomorrow. I want to taste your spunk when you cum so deep and hard…"
Wrapping one arm around Greg's chest, Nick lined himself up and pushed inside in one long hard thrust. Greg gave a strangled cry and pushed his ass back forcefully.
"Ride me hard, dammit!"
"Nobody's ever gonna fuck you the way you want except for me, you're always gonna come back for more, flyboy," Nick growled into Greg's ear.
He grabbed Greg's hips in an iron grip, knowing there'd be perfect bruises there tomorrow. Just another little something for Greg to remember him by. He slammed into Greg and pulled his feet further away from the wall so he was bent almost double.
"Your ass is so tight, so perfect," he groaned. "I could fuck you forever."
"Unnnh, fuck me… fuck me forever. I want your cock up my ass forever." Greg writhed against the wall as Nick's hand came around and grabbed his cock, stroking him roughly in time to his thrusts. "Unnh, fuck me… harder!"
Nick picked up the pace, pounding into Greg, hitting his prostate with every stroke. Greg was caught helplessly thrusting between Nick's fist and ramming back onto his cock, delirious with pleasure.
Nick's breath came faster as he exclaimed, "Come for me, you little bastard! Come on!" He bit down on the crook of Greg's neck.
Greg's voice rose in a stream of babble, crying out with every thrust. His head hung down between his shaking arms, shivers rolling through his body. Warmth pooled in his groin as his climax built and finally he spewed hot liquid over Nick's hand and the wall.
His ass clamped down tightly as he twisted, impaled on Nick's cock. The hot velvet passage clenching his erection was too much for Nick and he thrust hard into Greg's ass, coming with a great roar.
The two men stood shaking against the wall, their erratic breathing slowing, sweat pouring down their bodies. Nick kissed the side of Greg's neck softly, licking over the bruise his bite had left. "You little cocksucker," he said fondly.
"Is that foreplay? 'Cuz I don't think I can get it up again for, oh, at least another fifteen minutes or so," Greg said weakly.
"I can wait," Nick said, with a little thrust to remind Greg of whose cock was up whose ass.
Greg pulled away slowly and turned in Nick's arms. "Kiss me, you asshole."
Nick pressed him up against the wall, holding the trembling body still under his weight. "Careful what you call me, cocksucker," he teased.
After kissing softly for a few minutes, Greg asked, "Want to hit the hay?"
"Yeah," Nick said and they stumbled into the bedroom, taking off the rest of their clothing. They fell into bed and were asleep in a minute, curled in each other's arms.
Nick woke with a start, hearing the distinctive whine of the Thrush's engine turning over. He rolled over in bed, but it was empty. Quickly he pulled his clothes on and rushed outside, just in time to see the Thrush pass overhead. "Damn him!" He ran for the tower and burst in demanding, "Who authorized that cocksucker to take off?"
"Hodges did, sir."
"I'm gonna fucking kill him!"
"Hodges?"
"No, Sanders! He has no business going up; he had three beers last night and no time off. What the fuck is he thinking?"
"Well, there's a tight fire, we needed the small plane and who else can fly it?"
"I can, you fuckwit!" Nick turned and ran down to the tarmac. He listened. He could hear the engine in the far distance, he heard it skip and his heart sank. He listened to the distinctive sound of the firegate opening and saw the smoke turn white, then the frantic whine as the engine pulled up, free of its load. Then the silence followed by an echoing crash.
He slumped to the tarmac, tears streaming down his face. "That cocksucker," he moaned.
"Baby, what's the matter?" Greg walked quietly onto the deserted tarmac and rushed to Nick, holding him in his arms.
"No more you dying in a role play," Nick sobbed. "I can't take it. When I thought I'd lost you… it was too fucking real." He shook his head and his tears started to flow again.
Greg sat on his lap and put his good arm around Nick. "Oh baby, I'm sorry. I really didn't need to die; I just thought it would make the last fuck more… memorable."
"All our fucks are memorable," Nick gulped, becoming a bit embarrassed about being caught sobbing by his young lover.
"Yeah, they are," Greg said dreamily, "Even if you have to call me a cocksucker."
"Well, you are one," Nick pointed out.
"A great one! Why did I have to have the broken arm?" Greg thought it was time to change the subject.
"Well, you have a broken arm. I thought it would be cool to work it into the game."
"So is that why I went down on that last mission?" Greg asked anxiously.
"If that's the reason you want," Nick said tenderly, kissing him.
"Yeah, I don't want it to be my flying," Greg said decidedly. "I don't want you to be right, old man."
"As long as you remember my fucking you for a week, you can be the better flyer," Nick said with a laugh.