Below Dec in the South Pacific

"You're pulling my leg," Fowler's expression was pinched.

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

"Again," Fowler grunted.

"Again," Mosby answered.

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

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

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

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

"Don't seem likely," Mosby said.

"Eh we can hope," Fowler responded, "just once I'd like to see a little action."

"Here. Here." Svenson added.

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

"Goddamn," Mosby moaned, "Maybe they have liberty on Ulithi?"

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

The group of sailors burst into laughter.

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

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

"Fuck you Fowler," he said grinning.

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

"She was nice." Svenson said with another lopsided smile.

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

"Cheer up Levi," Mosby said, "You didn't stand a chance anyway. Most girls want a man, not a hairy little chimp."

"Give me a fuckin' break Mosby, I sure as shit know you didn't get any last week,"

"Yeah, that's because it was the first time I've seen my brother since '41."

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

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

"You're shitting me," Levi said.

Kieren blinked, "What's a boat fairy?"

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

"That's fucking disgusting." Mosby's lip curled.

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

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

"Only what I hear."

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

"With all that hair, it'll save you some time on flossing," Svenson added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah... tell me again what you'd do to my cousin."

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

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

"He started--"

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

Mosby, sighed, "No."

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

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

"Don't" Svenson said, his gaze suddenly stormy as a he stared down Levi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are you not cold?" Fowler asked, gesturing to Kieran's open jacket.

"We're in the tropics."

"It's March. The wind's gotta be eighteen knots at least, and you're covered in spray."

Kieran shrugged.

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

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

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

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

Kieran nodded, "My dad's a fisherman. Been on his boat most of my life."

"How does it compare to this?"

"Eh, open water. Quieter. Different stars in the sky."

"Sounds lonely."

Kieran shrugged.

"He shrug again?" Levi asked.

"Yep." Fowler grinned.

"That's our Sully."

"Sorry."

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

"Way to be a patronizing fuck, Fowler. Aren't you two both nineteen?"

"Shove it Chaim."

"Show me where Bob. Show me where."

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

"Uh... I guess."

"Come on, it'll be a gas. Have a few drinks, meet a few girls."

"Alright."

"Maybe he's got a girl at home, ever think of that?"

"I don't... you don't have a girl at home do you?"

Kieran shook his head.

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

"Christ Fowler, buy the kid a drink already."

"Kid? Aren't you twenty? Now who's being the patronizing fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

Darkness.

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

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

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

"Jesus!" Kieran yelped.

"Shhh," the admonition was barely audible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation built up like a wave, and Kieran bit his lips to keep from moaning, but it was no use, "I'm, I'm--"

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

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

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

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

"Goddamned lightswitch."

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

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

"Ow! For fuck's sake!" he groaned.

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

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

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

Kieran sighed into the man's palm and nuzzled against the man's chest.

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

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

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

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