Phantom of Aurora by John Ellison
Chapter 21

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When the Phantom pushed open the door to the room the light from the corridor flooded in, revealing Rob and Ryan in the bed closest to the bathroom. Both boys were naked, sprawled across the bed, the bedclothes flung to one side. Ryan was lying on top of Rob, the pale white triangle of his bubble butt contrasting his tanned body. His left arm was flung outward. With his right he hugged Rob possessively. One leg was hooked around Rob's leg. Ryan was snoring quietly, his nose buried in Rob's shoulder; his crotch was pressed into Rob's.

The Phantom, seeing the two boys, hurried over and pulled the covers over their naked bodies. Ryan squirmed, shivered, and ground his crotch into Rob's. He moaned something incoherent in his sleep. "It's, ah, it's not what it looks like, Ray," stammered The Phantom quietly as Ray turned on a dim light.

Ray smiled thinly. "Yeah, it is." He walked to his kit bag and pulled out some fresh briefs. "I'm going to shower," he whispered, his eyes searching The Phantom's face for any sign that he might want to do something, that he might want to . . . Ray quickly averted his gaze and said laconically, "If you want to have a pee, now's the time to do it." He pushed down his swimming trunks and walked naked into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

The Phantom watched Ray step into the shower stall and close the glass door. Then he dropped his trunks and went into the bathroom, shut the door, had a pee, which he needed to do desperately and stepped up to the sink and washed his hands. As he looked into the mirror that lined the wall above the sink he could see Ray's vague shape through the diffusing glass doors of the shower stall. The Phantom checked his beard, such as it was. He would have to shave in the morn-ing. Like all 17-year olds he automatically checked his face, examining it closely. No zits!

The water in the shower stopped running and The Phantom heard the shower door slide open. Reflected in the mirror was Ray, who made no pretence of trying to hide his frankly beautiful erection, all dusty pink and rose and tan, five hard inches jutting at an angle from his body. He stepped from the shower and moved behind The Phantom, grabbed one of the large, fluffy towels provided by the motel, and began to slowly dry his body.

Ray saw The Phantom looking at his reflection in the mirror. He dropped the towel. "What Rob and Ryan have," he began softly, "is what I want you and me to have."

The Phantom's eyes met Ray's. "Ray, I . . ." Dear God . . . I don't . . . Dear God has Ray got a beautiful dick!

Ray held out his hand and moved closer to The Phantom. He put his hand on The Phantom's waist, then leaned forward and kissed him. "They're only doing what we've be doing for a month now." He smiled softly. "I know, Phantom."

The Phantom's jaw dropped and his heart skipped a beat. "You, ah, you know what?" Ray's voice, the movements of his hands, told The Phantom that his question was superfluous. How could Ray possibly know?

"That it was you that gave me my first hand job," Ray whispered. He hands reached around and he drew The Phantom's body close to his. "You gave me my first blow job. You were the first boy who ever kissed me." Another smile creased Ray's boyish face as he remember. "My very first kiss." His hands moved and he fondled The Phantom's low-hanging testicles. His eyes were wide with the wonders of what The Phantom had done to him, had given him. "You who took me to places I never knew existed, Phantom, places that I would never have gone to without you."

"How did you know?" asked The Phantom as Ray clasped his fingers around The Phantom's throbbing erection.

Ray ran his fingers up and down the length of The Phantom's warm, hard penis, feeling it pulse rhythmically. "Your smell, your scent," he replied as his fingers traced the throbbing vein than ran the length of The Phantom's beautiful erection. He was breathing in short, heavy gasps. "When you're that close to a guy, you can really smell him. You smell different from every other guy." He sobbed and then leaned forward . . . His lips met The Phantom's.

The Phantom returned Ray's kiss, and then pushed him gently away. What was it about this sweet, dark-eyed boy that made him so damned . . . desirable?

Ray slowly stroked The Phantom's warm penis, his fingers playing gently with the special spot just under the head. "It was your scent, Phantom the wonderful smell of you." Ray backed away, a serious look on his face. "When I first realized that it was you I thought, wow, how could I get so lucky, having a guy like you coming into my barracks every night, making love to me.

"When we were on Texada, and we took that morning bath together, and you let me scrub your back and for the first time I felt your warmth, I felt your skin under my hand and . . ." He reached out and stroked The Phantom's face. "Oh, God, Phantom, I never wanted it to stop. I didn't want it to stop after we got back to AURORA, I don't want it to stop now. When I saw you get out of that car today, I was over the moon, just to be near you. And when you said you needed a place to sleep and took me up on my offer to sleep with me, in my bed, I almost died from sheer happiness."

The Phantom did not know what to say. His mind told him that he should not be thinking what he was thinking, that he should not want what he wanted, that he and Ray . . .

"I suppose I was stupid, thinking that maybe we could do things together," Ray continued. "Then I thought, well, that's okay. Just sleeping with him is enough. I thought, I'll see him, have him, on Monday or Tuesday." Tears welled up in Ray's eyes as he stared at The Phantom. "But that's not going to happen, is it?"

"No."

"And you coming into the barracks, that's not going to happen again, is it?"

The Phantom answered Ray as gently as he could. "No."

Ray slumped to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He was not crying, but he was very close to it. "I thought you loved me," he muttered. "I thought I meant something to you." Raising his face, the tears welling in his eyes, Ray demanded harshly, "What was I, Phantom, just a dick with a body attached to it? Was that all I ever was?"

The Phantom leaned down and pulled Ray to his feet. He pulled him close and his arms enveloped Ray's slim body. Their lips met and they kissed deeply, passionately. Their mouths opened and their tongues met. "You were the first boy I ever loved," began The Phantom when they pulled apart. He gazed into Ray's deep brown eyes and began kissing Ray's sweet, boyish face. "You were the first boy I ever kissed," he murmured between kisses. "You were the first boy I ever sucked on. It was your cum that I swallowed first. It was you I rimmed. You were the first boy who ever let me love him!" His lips found Ray's again and he pushed Ray's firm, round, behind, forcing their erections together. He held the kiss as he kneaded and caressed Ray's warm, wonderful behind.

Ray began to moan softly and to grind his hips, his boner rubbing over and over across The Phantom's throbbing erection. With quick, urgent, rapid upward thrusts Ray brought himself to a crashing orgasm. He tried to pull his lips away, but The Phantom would not allow it, and held the kiss, feeling the warmth of Ray's semen spreading across his stomach. When Ray's convulsing body calmed and his hips stopped thrusting, The Phantom released him. He pressed Ray's head close to his chest. "You were always, you will always be, my first love, Ray!" The Phantom declared in soft, deliberate tones as he rubbed Ray's back in slow, concentric circles. "You were never a dick with a body attached to it. Never!"

"But why . . .?" asked Ray. He nuzzled The Phantom's chest.

"Why?" The Phantom smiled wanly. "I fell in love, Ray. I love someone else." The Phantom stroked the back of Ray's head. "I love him so much, Ray, in a way that I never thought possible."

Ray pulled back and smiled. "I know that, too. When you got out of Gunner Winslow's car I knew it. I saw the way you looked, the way you looked at him, and I knew, Phantom." His hand caressed The Phantom's firm chest. "Will you still sleep with me?" he asked quietly as he looked into The Phantom's emerald green eyes, "Will you let me . . ."

Ray began slowly kissing his way down The Phantom's chest. The Phantom stopped him and pulled him close to him. "Ray, I love you very much. I will sleep with you, but that's all."

"But . . ."

The Phantom placed his fingers on Ray's lips. "The first time you make real love, do it with someone who means more than life to you. Do it with the boy or man you love beyond all reason." He kissed Ray gently on his forehead. A part of him wanted to continue making love with Ray, whom he did care a great deal for. His conscience though, echoed The Gunner's words in the car: You're going to be attracted to boys your own age . . . You will be hornier than hell and you will want to get laid . . . The Phantom remembered his reply: I just might meet some guy that I'll want to fuck around with. But that's all it will ever be . . .

As he held Ray close The Phantom thought, The Gunner is scared. He loves me, and he's scared he'll lose me, and I blow him off with some jackass flippant back talk! He felt Ray's warmth, felt his desires overwhelming him. His mind raced wildly. And then I turn around and do exactly what he said I'd do. Hell, sheeit and God DAMN! He realized that he wanted to be with Ray, wanted to love him.

Burying his face in Ray's still wet hair, The Phantom murmured, "Ah, Ray, how I do love you. I wanted you every time we were together. I still want you." And he knew that he would love Ray tonight. He would not make love to him, but he would love the handsome, dark-eyed cook.

"You do?" asked Ray, his face betraying his confusion.

The Phantom held Ray closely. "Yes, I do. But not the way you want me. I love you for being you. I love you for being the sweet, shy, wonderful guy you are. I love you for being my friend. I love you for the way you smell at night, for the smile you give me every time you see me, for that look in your eye that you have. The other, the sex, was just a bonus."

"But, Phantom, you, you gave me all the sex. I never . . ."

"I never wanted that from you. I got off on giving you as much pleasure as I could. I got off on sucking your cock, of tasting you."

"And I want you, Phantom," murmured Ray. He began slowly licking The Phantom's right nipple.

The Phantom moaned softly. Ray's tongue was caressing one of the places on his body that aroused him. Ray's hand drifted down and enveloped The Phantom's semi-hard penis. As Ray began to move downward and his lips brushed against The Phantom's spongy, inflamed glans, The Gunner's words echoed through him. Sooner or later you will be hornier than hell and you will want to get laid.

The Phantom groaned as he felt Ray's mouth engulf him and he could not stop himself. He began to slowly thrust his enraged, pulsing hardon into Ray's mouth. As his dick jerked and the wonderful feelings began to almost overwhelm him, his mind raced as he thought wildly, God damn you, Gunner . . . Fuck Ray, don't . . . why . . . God Damn . . . Jesus, don't stop, Ray, don't stop . . .

The Phantom ejaculated explosively in Ray's mouth. His face contorted and his body spasmed. As Ray drew more and more of his sperm from him, The Phantom bent forward, his hips thrusting, his cock jerking as Ray swallowed greedily. God damn you, God damn . . . Why do you have to be RIGHT?
******

The Gunner awoke, stretched, and then reached down and scratched himself. The hands of the bedside clock announced the time: 0600. He groaned and snuffled; wondering why the first thing a guy did when he woke up was to stretch and then reach down and feel himself. He'd been in mess decks, in barracks rooms, in tents, and sure as shit, every morning, the guys would wake up and check themselves. Maybe we just want to make sure its still there, he thought. A reflex reaction to ensure that a boy's favourite toy was still with him? The Gunner chuckled at the thought.

Looking over, The Gunner saw a huge lump under the covers of the other bed. He had slept so soundly - he was honest enough to believe that Phantom had a lot to do with his being so tired - that he had not heard Kyle and Andy come in. In a way he envied the two young officers. At least they got to sleep together.

After showering, The Gunner slipped on his shorts and a T-shirt, and went downstairs. His first priority was to bring his dress uniform up from the car. If the cadets were going to be dressed to the nines, so was he, although he was not all than enamoured about the green suit, and he did not relish the thought of having to wear a starched shirt and tie in the high summer heat. Once he had taken the uniform up to his room he could have a quiet breakfast. Wakey-Wakey for the cadets was not until 0730, and the restaurant would be all but empty.

As he exited the stairwell, The Gunner saw that the pool area was deserted, which was to be expected, he supposed. The tourists were on vacation and there was no reason for any of them to be up and about at 0630. As for the cadets, most of who had stayed up watching television, talking, or just being teenagers, being able to sleep in on a Monday morning was a luxury they had not enjoyed since leaving home.

The Gunner turned the corner of the motel and saw The Phantom sitting on the narrow pathway separating the building from the parking lot with his back was against the blank wall of the stairwell and his legs drawn up. He was staring moodily into the distance, past the Lombardy Poplars and boxwood hedges that lined the perimeter of the half-filled lot. The Gunner, as he often said, was not a stupid man and from the look on The Phantom's face he reasoned that someone was having a major attack of guilty conscience.

Which The Phantom was. He was mentally berating himself for allowing last night with Ray to happen. It was bad enough that they had made each other cum in buckets, in the bathroom and in the shower, but they had necked and nuzzled half the night and ended up sixty-nining! And to make matters worse he had woken up with Ray spooned against him, with Ray's hardon deep in the valley of his ass, and with Ray's hand grasping his morning woody!

The Gunner hunkered down beside The Phantom and bid him good morning. The Phantom, who had not heard The Gunner approach, nor heard him sit down, started. "Oh, uh, hi, Gunner," he stammered. "Nice, um, morning."

"A very nice morning," agreed The Gunner. "A perfect day for a parade. Clear and cool." He reached over and shook The Phantom's hand.

The Phantom giggled despite his feelings of guilt, remembering Chef's antics at his wet down.

"That's better. I like it when you laugh," said The Gunner. He leaned over, his mouth close to The Phantom's ear. "Want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. "And I commend you on your good taste. Ray is a very nice boy."

The Phantom's head snapped around and his mouth dropped open. The Gunner reached over and gently pushed The Phantom's chin up. The Phantom swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen in his throat. The Gunner was grinning slyly. He knew about Ray and there was no point in trying to weasel out of it. "I'm sorry, Gunner, I didn't mean for it to happen." The Phantom leaned forward and hugged his knees. "We were in the bathroom, and he was in the shower, and he came out and he was, you know, all hard, and . . ." His voice was very low.

"Phantom," interrupted The Gunner, "you don't have to bare all of your soul. And please, don't be sorry. Unless, of course, you didn't enjoy it."

"Jesus, Gunner!" groaned The Phantom, a pained expression on his face.

"Well, did you?"

The Phantom smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I did." He sat up quickly. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't! I mean, yeah, I did want to sleep with Ray, because I like him, and he's warm, and nice. But not the way it ended up." The words came in a rush as The Phantom continued. "Honest, Gunner, all I figured was maybe a quick feel, nothing more, but one thing led to another and we . . ." He saw a quizzical look on The Gunner's face. "But not that," The Phantom hastened to add. "We didn't, we didn't go all the way."

The Gunner could not help himself. He began to snicker, then broke into a hearty laugh. The Phantom stared at him and then reached over and slammed his fist against The Gunner's chest. "It's not funny, damn you, Gunner," he raged "I feel bad enough as it is. I do not need you laughing at me!"

The Gunner lay back with his head against the blank wall, and looked fondly at the now red-faced and angry boy he loved. "Did I ever tell you that your eyes sparkle and snap when you get mad?"

"Yes, dammit, you did," muttered The Phantom through clenched teeth. "Get mad at me, yell at me, do something," he demanded, waving his arms about. "I slept with another guy last night. We had sex! Doesn't that mean anything to you, you bastard!" The Phantom slouched forward, his hands covering his face.

The Gunner turned and put his hand on The Phantom's shoulder. "What it means is that you reacted exactly the way any normal, 17-year-old boy would react in the same situation. He offered, you accepted. It was only sex and it was, in your own words, 'No big deal'. Am I right?"

Reluctantly, The Phantom nodded. "He came on to me. He wanted to be with me, and I, well, it just happened." He sat up, and squeezed The Gunner's arm, holding it tightly. "I'm sorry, really sorry," he moaned. "I shouldn't have done it." His hand gripped The Gunner's forearm. "Ray said . . . he said that he knew about us! He said that he could see it in the way I looked at you. Gunner . . ."

The Gunner reached over and stroked The Phantom's face, his fingers wiping away the look of consternation. "Phantom," he whispered gently, "when two people are in love they show it. Their love is in their eyes and in the way they walk together, the way they talk together. I'm surprised that he's the only one to notice."

"I didn't tell him that we . . ." The Phantom blushed.

The Gunner smiled and ran his finger down The Phantom's arm. "Phantom, if Ray is as smart as I think he is I do believe that he has come to the realization that we've been together."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Not really, no," replied The Gunner with a small shake of his head. He looked into The Phantom's eyes. "Phantom, while sex is a part of any relationship, it is not all the relationship. If it was then all you have are two guys fucking. A true relationship is also one where the two people are friends and confidants. They trust one another, and love one another in a special way." He grinned. "Sort of the way you feel about the Twins, and Ray."

"Ray thinks that he's in love with me," responded The Phantom. Then he admitted candidly, "And I do love him."

"I know." The Gunner sighed slowly. "Phantom, for you, and Ray, making love is just a natural extension of the actual love you feel for each other. I take it that you were Ray's first?"

The Phantom nodded. "Yes. He was never with another boy before." A strange look crossed The Phantom's face. "I can't understand why I feel so . . . I love him, and I like being with him. What we did last night bothers me because I . . . I betrayed what we have."

"Phantom, I want you to know, to understand, that I do not feel betrayed at all," replied The Gunner with a dry chuckle. "In your way, you love Ray, and in your way, you express that love. Ray feels the same thing and just as there will always be a little part of you that is Ray, a little part of him will be you."

"I slept with the Twins. We fucked," returned The Phantom with brutal honesty. "I went all the way with them, but not Ray."

"They told me," said The Gunner softly. "I expected it."

"You did?" The Phantom's widening eyes registered his surprise at The Gunner's revelation.

"I did." He held up his hand to halt any protests from The Phantom. "They care for you, deeply. They consider you their friend and sleeping with you, having sex with you, is for them an extension of their friendship." He laughed ruefully. "You went with them, which would have happened eventually anyway, I think, because you thought that I had rejected you. You turned to the Twins for the warmth and affection, and yes, the love, I denied you. You turned to two boys whom you love." His laughter increased.

"What?"

"The Twins don't realize it, but you have done something to them!"

"Really, Gunner, I don't think that . . ."

"No, Phantom you don't understand what I'm getting at." The Gunner squirmed into a sitting position. "The Twins, until you came along, were basically unthinking sex machines. They saw a boy they liked - usually because he was handsome and well hung - and they had sex with him. Sex was merely a form of enjoyment."

"It is that," rejoined The Phantom. "And now?"

"Now, my dear Phantom, you have made them start to think about what they are doing. Suddenly, their relationships with other boys, particularly the boys here, is not all about sex. Suddenly they are starting feel an emotional attachment, an attachment that transcends a quick roll in the hay. They have finally realized that not only do they want to have you; they want to be with you as a friend. Cory and Todd are maturing, growing up if you will, and I think from now on while they will be sexually active they will give of themselves only to those boys they actually care about."

The Phantom snickered. "They are not as bad as everybody thinks they are, you know." He wondered if The Gunner knew about the Twins and Chris. "They don't go around jumping guys, and I wouldn't call them sex machines."

"Perhaps too harsh a judgement," agreed The Gunner. "But, the point is that the Twins are now looking for a relationship . . ."

"Like Cory and Nathan?"

"Yes. Cory can have just about any boy he wants to have. So can Todd. Cory wants more than a quick slap and a tickle. Todd will want the same, eventually."

"I think Todd likes playing the field," replied The Phantom. Then he added loyally, "Todd is not promiscuous, or anything, but if somebody catches his eye, well then he does, you know, go for the gold."

"The day will come," prophesied The Gunner, "when Todd will turn up his nose and walk away. He'll like the boy, but he'll want more than just sex. He'll want affection, love, and friendship; he will also want trust and loyalty. Only when he has all those things will he give himself to another boy."

"I hope he doesn't blame me when it happens!" retorted The Phantom.

"He won't because Todd is smart enough to know how you feel about him. The other night, when you were with the Twins, it was sex. The next time it will be a special exchange of your love for each other." He looked directly at The Phantom. "And it will happen again."

The Phantom's mouth dropped open. When he recovered he spoke slowly. "I can't say that it won't happen again. I'll try, but I do care for them. And for Ray."

"Phantom, I trust you to know the difference between sex and love. There will be other young men in your life and you will have sex with them. You won't be jumping from bed to bed like so many young men do, because that is not your nature. When you go to bed with another boy you will do it because you care for him, because what you do together feels right, feels warm, feels natural."

"Like Ray?" replied The Phantom with lowered eyes. "I know I should have felt bad, but I didn't, and afterwards, with the Twins, I felt the same way. It started out as just a dirty night, but later, I felt, well, I didn't regret having been with them."

"Nor should you have," declared The Gunner. "It was bound to happen, as I said. Ray was bound to happen, as will the other boys." He grinned. "I am a little surprised that it happened so fast, but then, what with you being popular and particular, I can understand why it happened. There's no point in getting your knickers in a twist."

"I'm not wearing any," smiled The Phantom, ignoring The Gunner's mild gibe.

"So I noticed."

The Phantom looked down and saw that, what with all his squirming and moving, his shorts had ridden up and his testicles and the round, smooth head of his penis were showing. "Fuck, Gunner," he growled unhappily, "why didn't you say something!" He modestly pulled down his shorts.

"I liked what I saw."

The Phantom giggled. "It's all your fault anyway."

"My fault?" The Gunner asked with astonishment. "How is it my fault? I didn't push you into bed with Ray!"

"No, but you wouldn't let me into your bed last night. If you had, I wouldn't have had to sleep with Ray. If I hadn't slept with Ray I would not have had sex with him. If I hadn't had sex with Ray I would not have taken off my undies and . . ."

The Gunner burst out laughing, and fell on his side, unable to contain his laughter and longer. The longer The Gunner laughed the poutier The Phantom became. "Go ahead, laugh it up, Gunner. Very funny, ha, ha, ha!"

The Gunner continued to laugh, and then, with difficulty, he gained a measure of control. Despite all his warnings to The Phantom about not displaying affection in public, he reached over and pulled the boy to his feet, hugged him and then held him at arm's length. "Oh, my dear, manipulating, green-eyed little monster!" he laughed. "You go to bed with Ray, you get your end wet, and it's all my fault! God, no wonder I love you."

The Phantom managed to squirm his way out of The Gunner's embrace, even more upset because at The Gunner's first touch he'd gone and popped a bone! "You're nuts!" he exclaimed, adjusting the erection he had sprung. "I tell you I slept with another guy and instead of blowing your top you laugh! And look what you did to me!"

Unable to control himself, The Gunner started to laugh again. "Oh, Phantom, so long as I can do that to you, then I have no worries." He stopped laughing and assumed a serious face. "Phantom, I told you how I felt. What happened last night will happen again. I know that, you know that. You yourself said it. It's no big deal." Then he grinned widely. "And just think about what you're going to have to do tonight to make me forgive you."

The Phantom returned the grin. "You're really not mad?"

"No."

"You're not jealous?"

"Nope." The Gunner waggled his eyebrows. "Besides, I like Ray. He appeals to me and you know what I told you about a guy who appeals to me . . ."

"You wouldn't dare!" flashed The Phantom, his eyes blazing.

"No, I wouldn't. But it sure got you going."

"Damn you!"

"Oh, Phantom, cool down. It's happened, it's over, and you're sorry." The Gunner stood up and took The Phantom's arm. "If you didn't love me, you would not have felt guilty. If you didn't love me, you would not have gotten all pissed off at me."
"I do love you, Gunner," said The Phantom quietly. "I love Ray, too, but not the way I love you. He's nice, and I'm glad he's my friend, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life with him. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The Gunner smiled. "Phantom, don't you think I know that? I know now that you will never leave me. I only hope that I can live up to your expectations."

The Phantom grinned. "You will. You're too damn stubborn not to! And if you buy me breakfast I'll tell you what I'm going to do to make it all up to you."

The Gunner grinned back. "It better be good. I might be cheap, but I'm not easy."

"That's not what you said when we found that logging road."

******

The Gunner and The Phantom were just about to enter the restaurant when a battered, rust-spotted, green Chevy sedan pulled up to the motel entrance. The doors flew open and out popped Randy and Joey, followed by Chef, who was smiling broadly. "Hey, Phantom," yelled the two Makee-Learns. They ran over and hugged The Phantom.

"We missed you, Phantom," said Joey.

"Yeah, and Ray." Randy gave The Phantom another hug. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs, in bed, sleeping." He glanced at The Gunner, who grinned like a cat with the cream. "He had a busy night." He stuck out his tongue and returned The Gunner's grin.

The Gunner laughed. "Come on, boys, breakfast is on me."

"What's wrong with Phantom?" asked Chef. "You two have a fight?"
"No, he was up half the night. Most of the boys were," replied The Gunner as they walked into the restaurant. He stopped abruptly and turned to Chef. "Chef, what in the hell are you doing here?"

They found an empty table and while the boys were busy filling their plates from the breakfast buffet, Chef explained. "Well, with only the Duty Watch to cook for, I figured, fuck it. I need a break. So I took one."

"What happened to No H? What happened to the YAG crews? They all die?"

As the waitress poured them a cup of coffee Chef shook his head. "All the YAGs left yesterday for so-called Squadron Manoeuvres, which means swimming all day and a banyan tonight. No H went with them as he said he needed the sea time. Dirty Dave the Deacon went off with Matron." Chef shuddered at the thought of the Matron and Dirty Dave consummating their relationship. He took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and added more sugar and cream. "That left Wally Higman and the Duty Watch."

Chef jerked his head towards Joey and Randy. "Those two were driving me crazy, what with the whining about being stuck in AURORA while everybody was down here having fun."

"You were grumbling, too," said Randy as he sat down and attacked the huge plate of food he had brought from the buffet.

"Plus he chased Little Big Man from the galley with a cleaver," piped up Joey.

The Gunner stiffened. "You did?" he asked Chef.

Chef nodded. "Instead of opening up the Mess Hall I had those two skates set up a table in the galley."

Joey and Randy, stuffing their faces with Belgian waffles, whipped cream and maple syrup, nodded. Joey mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Joey, mind your manners," instructed The Phantom, who had sat down with an even larger plate of food. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

"Anyway," said Chef in exasperation, "the little bastard informed me that he was the Duty Petty Officer and wanted to eat at his own table. He also told me that he wanted one of the Makee-Learns to stand a watch."

"That must have gone over like a lead balloon," chuckled The Gunner.

"I told him exactly what he could do with his table and with his Duty Watch!" replied Chef.

"Then Little Big Man told Chef that if he didn't watch out he'd charge Chef with abuse of authority," supplied Joey, laughing.

"So Chef grabbed his cleaver and Little Big Man yelled and took off," continued Randy. "For a fat man, Chef sure can run fast."

Chef almost had apoplexy. "I'll remember that you little git, on the way home, when you want to stop for a pee!"

"What are you going on about?" asked The Gunner between guffaws.

Chef, with a hurt air, signalled the waitress for another cup of coffee. "I made the mistake of bringing those two with me. I called Base and told them to send over some kitchen help, and then I told those two that we were going to Victoria. I tell them we're leaving early, so leave a shake for 0300. Do they do that? No, the do not! I go to the barracks and there they are, sleeping like babes, together. It was so cute," he finished with a smirk.

"We were lonely," said Randy, a hurt look on his face. He knew sarcasm when he heard it. "We were the only ones in the place." He smiled shyly at The Phantom. "Phantom understands, don't you, Phantom?"

The Phantom, eating his way through a pile of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and what looked liked perogies and sour cream, nodded. "They're little kids, Chef."

"They're a first class pain in the ass is what they are!" retorted Chef. "Once they crawl out of their pits they have to run and have a piddle . . ."

"And that's why we both had a woody!" exclaimed Joey. "Not what you said."

"Chef, you didn't!" exclaimed The Gunner. "Even I still wake up with a morning woody!"

"Ha! That pitiful example of . . ."

The Gunner coughed loudly and The Phantom stifled a giggle.

Chef grinned and carried on. "Well, first they had to shower. Then they had to pack. Which reminds me, what's the uniform, blues or whites?"

"Whites and blues." replied The Phantom.

"Thanks, you're so helpful," replied Chef tartly.

"I try to be," replied The Phantom dryly.
"Phantom's right. Whites for the parade and Ceremony of the Flags," explained The Gunner, "Then blues for the Sunset Ceremony tonight."

"Good job I made them bring both," nodded Chef. "Where was I, oh, yeah. I feed them breakfast, though by the size of those plates you wouldn't know it. We get in the car and we start out. Then they start. How long are we going to take? Are we there yet? Then they had to pee! Jesus, those two peed their way from Comox to Victoria!"

"Should have made them go before they left," said The Gunner, thoroughly enjoying the show Chef was putting on.

"I did! But did that stop them? No! They tell me they have to pee so I pull over and tell them to go, already. Do they walk twenty feet into the woods to pee? No, they do not! There might be critters in there!" He glowered at the two young boys who glowered back and went right on stuffing themselves.

Chef shook his head and continued on. "No self-respecting critter would be after touching those two!" He shuddered. "There they stood beside the motor, and me after them to hurry up because I wanted to reach Victoria sometime today. They tell me that they can't pee because I'm looking!"

"He wasn't, we just said he was," confessed Joey.

"As if I'd be after looking look at those two puny specimens!" growled Chef. "Go behind the car, I says. So they do. Thank God, I say, because they'll get their business done. Then I look back. I almost fainted!" Chef gave the snickering boys a thunderous look. "There they stood, the whole of them . . ."

"They didn't face the traffic!" sputtered The Gunner, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"They did," affirmed Chef. "I looked back and there they are, pissing. There's semis roaring past; cars full of tourists are hurrying down the motorway; the world and the ship's cat are out and driving down the carriageway and there are those two, with their shorts down around their ankles, the front of their underpants pulled down, pissing as half the world drives past."

"We got a lot of honks," laughed Randy.

"You'll get a whole lot of hurt if you pull that trick again," threatened Chef. "From then on, all the way down, it was drive, stop, pee, drive, stop, pee. Nobody can pee that much!"

The Gunner laughed and nodded toward the two boys. "Well, at least you didn't have to hold it for them!"

Both Makee-Learns groaned. "We're too big for that!" giggled Joey.

"You're big enough to unload the car. Hurry up and finish," ordered Chef. He turned to The Phantom. "Can they change in your room?"

"Sure. They'll like that," replied The Phantom. "Come on, guys, let's go wake up Ray." The three boys hurriedly finished their breakfasts, then thanked The Gunner and left the restaurant.

Chef sighed, watching the three boys hurrying across the pool area toward the stairs leading to the rooms up top. "You know, Stevie darlin', at times I think, thank you, God, for making me sterile. Then I look at Ray, and at those two, and I shake my head, wondering what I did for Him to do that to me."

"He didn't," replied The Gunner. He mentally shook his head. Chef continued to maintain the fiction. He knew that Chef had, ten years before, somehow contracted mumps. He also knew that when Chef was 19 or so he had been married and . . . But then, Chef had his reasons for not speaking of the times before and perhaps such things were best left alone. "The mumps did," he said, a note of humour in his voice.

"As yes, so the vicious disease did," sighed Chef. "So, you and Phantom, you're . . ."

"We're friends again, Chef," replied The Gunner, admitting as much as he would admit.

Chef grinned. "Have it your way, Stevie. I never interfere."

"Balls! You're worse than an old woman."

"Well, somebody has to be around here," said Chef without rancour. "Just, please, Stevie, be careful."

The Gunner nodded. "I plan to be. And you'd better be careful as well."

"Me? Why would I be after worrying?"

The Gunner looked around and then leaned forward. "Chef, I met Glenn Britnell yesterday and . . ."

******

As they walked down the long corridor leading to The Phantom's room, the three boys could hear the sounds of the troops waking up. Doors were opened, and cadets would go pounding on neighbouring doors. Doors were slammed. Raised voices seemed to rise from every room. As they passed the room occupied by Dylan and Brian they could hear Dylan yelling and pounding on the bathroom door, demanding to be let into the bathroom, which was occupied by Willy, one of his roommates. "You're as bad as Thumper," they heard Dylan yell. "Now quit beating that thing . . ."

Randy and Joey giggled uncontrollably as The Phantom dragged them down the corridor and into his room. They spotted Ray's head peeking above the covers he had cocooned himself in and pounced.

While the two Makee-Learns were tickling and pummelling Ray, The Phantom turned and saw Ryan and Rob. The noise Randy and Joey were making had awakened them and they were now lying side by side, their naked bodies covered by the bedclothes.

The Phantom grinned and arched an eyebrow as Ryan slowly pulled the covers over his head while Rob blushed and shrugged. "Come on, you two," said The Phantom. "Times-a-wastin'. We have to be out of here by 0930, and it's past seven now."

Rob groaned and nudged Ryan, who nodded and threw back the covers. He was naked and his morning woody jutted stiffly outward from his body. The Phantom noticed Ryan's iron-hard erection, a thick 4-inch tube of pale skin, the foreskin covering all but a small portion of his purple-hued helmet that peeked from out of the ridge of skin. The Phantom sighed quietly, remembering the night when he had stolen into the Storekeepers Barracks and visited Ryan.

Fortunately Joey and Randy were too busy roughhousing with Ray to notice as Ryan scooted into the bathroom. "Hey, Phantom," yelled Joey, breaking The Phantom's reminiscence. "Ray's got a woody!"

"I've seen it," returned The Phantom. He pulled the covers off of Ray and saw that his briefs were tented deliciously. "Come on, Ray, up and at 'em."

Ray groaned and climbed out of the bed. He quickly slipped on some shorts. He ducked his head and grinned at The Phantom. "Hi, Phantom," he said shyly as he pulled on a T-shirt.

"Hey, Ray," returned The Phantom. "I found those two downstairs. They wanted to see you."

Joey and Randy were laughing and wrestling on the bed. Ray grinned at them and shook his head. "Little brats." He looked over and saw Rob looking at him strangely. Jesus, he thought, I hope he didn't hear Phantom and me when we were . . .

"Ray, take these two down to the restaurant," said The Phantom as he reached over and smacked both their bottoms.

"I have to pee first," returned Ray.

"Ryan's in there," said Rob, looking pointedly at The Phantom.

Before The Phantom could reply Joey and Randy began pulling on Ray, urging him to hurry up. "You guys can't still be hungry," exclaimed The Phantom with a grin. "You just ate."

"They can watch me eat," said Ray. Something was going on between Rob and The Phantom and Ray thought it best to get the hell out of Dodge. "Come on, you two," he gestured toward the door.

"Do you have enough money?" asked The Phantom. "You can sign for your breakfast, but only if it's bacon and eggs."

"I'm broke, Phantom," replied Ray. He looked at Joey and Randy. "Sorry guys." The Phantom reached into his wallet. "Here, you can pay me back on pay day." He handed Ray a $20 bill. "Order the buffet, it's pretty good."

Ray nodded his thanks and pushed the two younger boys out of the room. The Phantom took his uniform out of the closet, sat on the bed, and began fitting the gilt buttons into the tunic. Rob slipped out of bed and quickly pulled on some boxers. He sat down and quietly waited for The Phantom to say something. The Phantom decided to play dumb. He began humming tunelessly as he continued to fit the buttons into his tunic. Rob sighed explosively. The Phantom looked up. "What?"

"You're not going to say anything?" asked Rob, a note of dread in his voice.

The Phantom gave Rob a lopsided grin. "I'm not planning on it. It's none of my business what you and Ryan get up to."

"You must have seen . . ."

"What? Two guys sleeping together, or two guys fooling around together?"

"Both."

The Phantom rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Look, Rob, you didn't do anything that millions of guys all over the world haven't done before. Who cares? It's no skin off my dick."

Rob swallowed and remained silent, the noise from the rushing waters as Ryan showered breaking the stillness. "Uh . . . what about Ray?"

"Ray's cool. Besides, he didn't see anything," The Phantom lied, mentally thanking his stars that neither Rob nor Ryan had a clue what he and Ray had done half the night. "He went right into the can. If you don't broadcast it, no one but me is the wiser." He stood up and returned his tunic to the closet.

Rob sagged with relief. "Thanks, Phantom. You don't know what this means to us."

The Phantom smiled knowingly and walked to the door. He couldn't shower until Ryan got out of the bathroom so he decided to go down below and pester Ray. He opened the door and looked at Rob. "Actually, I do."

******

While The Phantom was talking to Rob, and Ray was assaulting the buffet table with the able assistance of Joey and Randy, The Twins were waking up. Although not identical, they had a bond between them that they could not explain. They each seemed to be able to sense what the other was going to say before he said it, and they sensed what the other was thinking, to the extent that they drove everybody mad by finishing each other's sentences.

Each morning at home, when they dressed for the day, and if they were not in school (where they wore a uniform of sorts), each seemed to know instinctively what the other was planning to wear, which allowed each Twin to avoid wearing the same colour, style, or mode of clothing. They might be twins but they refused to dress alike.

Their bond was such that they knew when the other was waking up. Within seconds of Todd awakening, Cory would open his eyes. They never questioned why Todd was always the first one to wake up.

This morning had been no different from any other morning. Cory, his body close against Todd's, his hand down the front of Todd's boxers, holding his woody, sensed Todd stirring. Todd, awaking, his body close to Cory's, his hand down the front of Cory's boxers, holding his woody, opened his eyes and waited a few brief moments until Cory's eyes opened and his bright, shining blue eyes sparkled. They kissed and fondled each other, then got out of bed. Harry and Greg were sleeping soundly, Greg cuddled close to Harry, his arm across Harry's chest. The covers just above Harry's crotch were tented nicely.

Todd silently pointed at the floor, his blue eyes bright with amusement. Cory looked and a wide grin broke his face. Two pairs of soiled briefs lay on the floor beside the bed. The Twins went into the bathroom and shut the door. Almost immediately they began giggling. "Well, it looks like the Pride of the Fleet put to sea last night," Todd laughed.

Cory, snickering and snorting, managed to gain a measure of control. "And fired at least one broadside."

"More than one," said Todd rubbing his nose. "I told you last night that they'd been making out. The Arundel patented semen detector is never wrong."

Which was true. They had returned from their dinner and almost immediately after they entered their room had detected the unique musk exuded by all young males during and after sex, that and the fact that Harry and Greg were sleeping so close together they might have been Siamese Twins.

The Twins had turned on the shower and while the water beat down on their bodies they had kissed and necked and petted each other into crashing orgasms. When they had finished showering they had gone to bed, exhausted, assuming their normal sleeping position, and fondled each other until they fell asleep. The only disappointment of the evening had been their father's reaction to their plea for him to do something about Matt.

They had sat in the tapestry elegance of the Empress Room, a richly-carved ceiling overhead, not hearing the harpist playing softly in the background, picking glumly at their Beef Wellington, ignoring a superb 1938 Mouton, listening to their father trying to explain why he could do little to help Matt.

" . . . It is not that I don't want to help, boys, but you must try to understand that this is not all black and white," Justice Arundel said quietly. He was a tall man, and while The Twins had inherited their mother's hair and colouring, they had their father's height and eyes. "To begin with, there has to be a clear-cut, systemic pattern of child abuse. There must be a history of abuse." Justice Arundel sipped his wine. "Is there?"

Todd shrugged and toyed with his food a moment. "We don't know, Papa, when we asked him . . ."

"He wouldn't tell us anything," continued Cory.

"But we saw the bruises on his bum . . ." went on Todd.

"And he told Phantom that his father had beaten him . . ."

Todd took a sip of his wine. "Because he had a friend who was Jewish. His father is a real . . ."

"Son-of-a-bitch . . ." finished Cory. A blush began creeping up his face under his tan when he realized what he had said.

Mrs. Arundel, who giggled into her napkin, saved the situation. Her husband gave her a dirty look and then looked at his boys. "Cory's powers of description aside, the matter is further complicated by the fact that the boy lives in Married Quarters at Uplands Aerodrome. The Ottawa City Police have no authority there, and I am sure the Military Police would not appreciate any interference in matters they consider to be their jurisdiction."

"So, you won't do anything?" asked Todd.

Justice Arundel looked at his wife. He loved his sons dearly, and would do anything for them. Mrs. Arundel looked at him questioningly, glanced at her sons, and then nodded imperceptibly. "I did not say that, Todd," replied Justice Arundel. "I will do what I can, which, to be truthful, is very little. I will make enquiries with the authorities, but unless Matt is willing to make a statement, or his injuries are so horrendous that he requires hospitalization . . ." he finished lamely.

"He won't talk," said Cory sadly. "When we asked him to tell us about it he threatened to hitch a ride back to The Barracks. He won't make a statement."

Justice Arundel nodded. "I've seen it before. He's torn between his natural love for his family and his hatred of his father. If he tells what his father does to him, he'll be hurting the family. Still, I will do what I can."

The Twins brightened a little.

"Now then, cheer up, the pair of you," exclaimed Justice Arundel with a jollity he did not feel, "and finish your dinner. I'll treat you to a brandy in the lounge and you can tell me all about the envelopes that your mother gave you."

******

Greg heard The Twins getting up and going into the bathroom. Presently he heard the shower running, and smiled knowingly. The Twins would be occupied for the next while, if he knew Cory and Todd. He pulled back from Harry and propped himself on one elbow, gazing fondly at the sleeping youth who had brought him so much pleasure. Greg wasn't all that sure what he was feeling. He did know that he did not in the least feel guilty. He'd been horny, Harry had been horny, and making it with Harry, who was, in Greg's mind, the epitome of teenage male straightness, had been unique and very, very, pleasurable. He also knew that if at any time within the next two weeks Harry wanted a replay, he would have it.

With his free hand Greg reached down and felt his morning woody, which was still tender from their lovemaking. Then he lifted up the covers and looked down at Harry's body. The Pride of the Fleet was quietly resting against Harry's thigh.

Harry's legs were slightly spread and, fascinated, Greg watched as Harry's large testicles (the left one hanging slightly lower than the right) rose and fell ever so slightly as he breathed. As Greg watched the Pride twitched then began to lengthen and thicken until it lay straight up Harry's stomach. Greg could see the thick vein that ran along the underside of the Pride and noticed that Harry's dark-brown, curly pubic hair thinned and curled around and under, circling the base of the Pride.

Harry stirred slightly as Greg ran his finger down the length of his erection and his breathing quickened as Greg lowered his head and took as much of Harry's thick seven inches into his mouth as he could. Greg shuffled a little closer to Harry and his right hand gripped the base of the iron-hard Pride. As he moved his head up and down on Harry's shaft, Greg began to roll and pull the Escorts with his left hand.

The room was still, the silence broken only by the faint sound of the shower running in the bathroom and Harry's heavy breathing. As Greg sucked avidly Harry moaned softly and his breathing became heavier. He began to slowly thrust his hips upward into Greg's warm, encompassing mouth, turning slowly as he rolled slightly on his side, giving Greg full access to the throbbing Pride and tightening Escorts.

Greg responded by moving his body as close as he could to Harry's and began humping his rock-hard boner against Harry's leg, feeling massive jolts of electricity course through his body as his penis crossed and recrossed the rough hairs on Harry's legs. As Greg sucked harder and harder an intoxicating musk rose from Harry's body, and Greg began pivoting his mouth, using his tongue to lap over and around the broad, curving, crisply formed head of the Pride. He was determined to give Harry's the best blowjob he had ever had. Greg felt Harry's broad hand gently hold the back of his head as he began to pump his pulsing dick in and out of his mouth.

Harry's breathing became harsh and from deep within his throat a great moan began building. He opened his legs wider and thrust harshly upward as the strangled moan burst from him and the Pride volleyed.

Greg felt Harry's dick explode in his mouth, sending eruption after eruption of his seed over Greg's tongue. As the first of Harry's thick, creamy juice filled his mouth, Greg convulsed and he thrust viciously against Harry's leg as one of the most vigorous orgasms he had ever had engulfed him.

Greg continued to suck on Harry, his tongue and lips cleaning the softening Pride until Harry pulled away, his body limp. "Wow," gasped Harry, "now that is what I call a proper Wakey-Wakey."

Greg rolled away from Harry, lay on his back, and laughed softly. He felt Harry's hand cross his thigh and then squeeze his almost soft dick. "You want me to do you?" asked Harry as he thumbed Greg's helmet, shiny and thick with his own semen.

Still basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm Greg shook his head. "Too late, I already came. Thanks anyway."

Harry reached down and felt the warm stickiness on his knee and upper thigh. "You sure did," he grinned.

"You're no slouch yourself," returned Greg, running his tongue along Harry's smooth, slim lips.

Harry chuckled and got out of bed, reached down and, using one of the pair of soiled briefs that lay on the floor, cleaned his leg and crotch.

With seeming continued indifference to what had just happened, Harry reached into his kit bag and pulled out a pair of gym shorts and a clean T-shirt. He began dressing, pulling on the gym shorts and slipping the T-shirt over his head and down his torso, oblivious to the hurt look on Greg's face. As he leaned over to find his sneakers, Harry glanced obliquely at Greg. "I guess we better think about some breakfast," he said pleasantly. "There is no point in hanging around waiting for The Twins to finish showering."

For a moment Greg felt a flash of anger. Harry could have at least thanked him for the blowjob. Then the anger and hurt he felt faded as he intuitively realized that Harry was merely obeying the unwritten Code of the Straight Teenage Male Who Had Just Found A Fuck Buddy. What they had just done, what they had done last night, was not to be spoken of, or alluded to in any way. The Code dictated that if it were not spoken about, it had not happened. They would not speak of it until the next time they were together, possibly not even then.

Greg crawled out of bed, watching Harry's broad back and wonderfully firm butt as he bent down to clear away some of their laundry that littered the deck. He smiled. But there will be a next time, Harry, he thought, and you can bank on it.