Date: Sat, 24 Jun 2000 21:00:19 -0500
From: Willy B <haztech@email.msn.com>
Subject: Flak Bait pt3

Flak Bait
Part 3

        Michael Goldman lay on his side in the snow again, weakly trying to
stuff his spilled intestines back into his slim belly. His eyes stared at
the single eye in the end of his severed penis resting on a pink patch
nearby.
        "Dad," he whispered, "M...Mo...Mom. Mom!" Mike blinked his eyes as
he slowly became aware of his surroundings. God, it was just a dream, a
nightmare! He silently rolled over to stare at Lydia, his `pet' spider as
she worked on her web over his head, slightly illuminated by the waning
glow that filtered through the small window in the cellar where he hid from
the enemies that wanted to kill him. He'd been rescued, but he chafed at
the forced inactivity of the last few weeks. His Air-Corps instructors had
taught him how to shoot, how to lead his targets, but not what to do when
shot down.
        And then there was Paul. Paul was avoiding him. He'd been the only
person Mike could talk to, had seen to all his needs. That was the
problem. Paul had even brought him a sexual release and he had hurt Paul by
reacting badly to it. He so wanted to take that night back, to do it over
again, make things right for the other boy who risked so much by sheltering
him. The whole house seemed on edge around him now. Even Jean, who had
carried him here, looked at him with what could only be described as hatred
in his eyes.
        The sounds of life over his head slowly died away in the gathering
darkness as he lay on the pallet and flexed his left leg to ease the slight
stiffness that remained from his injury. He was healing fast, but the new
scar tissue imbedded in his thigh made itself known every now and then when
he stretched it.
        Mike cautiously rose and padded his way to the squeaky stairs and
made his way through the dark to the entrance to the kitchen. "Paul?" he
asked quietly.
        "No! No, no. shh!" Paul's mom whispered as she met him and blocked
his way into the house, shooing him back downstairs to his hiding place.
        "May I please speak to Paul?" he pleaded to her as he returned to
where he'd started; "Please, I've got to talk to him." His voice shook in
frustration.
        "Paul?" she asked, with a quizzical look on her face.
        "Yes! Yes, please, Paul." He hoped he was getting through. He had
to get through!
        She shushed him again as she turned to leave. Mike just buried his
face in his arms when he fell back onto his bedding. He'd failed! He was
alone here just as much as he'd been alone in the woods. He felt the dark
room close around him. He almost laughed through the alarm he felt; the
room should be nothing compared to the little turret he'd wormed his way
into every day in the past.
        He welcomed the wash of lantern light as it descended the
stairs. He was happy for any light in his dark cell. It took a moment for
his eyes to adjust and focus as he recognized Paul and Jean. Paul's
features were streaked with fear; Jean didn't look at him at all as he sat
on the steps to block the way.
        "My mother says you must not come up again," Paul began
nervously. "We may be watched...seen. You leave soon, I think."
        "Thank you. I just wanted to.... When?" Mike breathed in relief.
        "When? Maybe soon." Paul shrugged his shoulders and turned to
leave.
        "No, don't go!" Mike pleaded. "I don't know. Can you stay? I want
to talk to you, say I'm sorry. I've missed having you to talk to."
        The two boys sat in silence, just staring at the reflected light in
each other's eyes as each tried to think of a way to breach the wall that
had risen between them.
        "I'm sor...," both began sheepishly, "No, I...." "I...."
        "I go first!" Paul couldn't help but giggle a little at their
exchange and watched a smile break through Mike's features.
        "I am sorry for what I did," Paul continued. "It was too much. Not
right." He felt a lump in his throat as his eyes welled a little.
        "No, it's nothing for you to be sorry about." Mike reached out and
touched Paul's cheek momentarily, forcing Paul to look at him. "It's me who
should be sorry. I was surprised, that's all. Honest! I didn't mind."
        Jean suddenly issued a disgusted snort and quietly laughed as he
and Paul became involved in a rapid exchange Mike had no hope of
following. He was puzzled to see Paul blush; his smooth cheeks seemed to
glow in the lamplight.
        "What did he say?" Mike jerked his head towards Jean.
        "He says we are being very dumb...stupid." Paul's eyes seemed to
glow with the rest of him. "He says he has seen enough of us and we should
kiss already. I say you are not that way. He says you are. I don't know."
        "I don't know," Mike echoed as he tried to hide from Jean's
eagle-like gaze. "Maybe?"
        Paul drew in a deep breath; his eyes darted from Mike to Jean and
back. Jean had verbally taken him to task over his feelings for the
American. He'd been shocked by Jean's forwardness, but realised the older
man hated to watch others playing games when love and life could disappear
suddenly.
        "I think maybe...I love you?" Paul said it in a rush and ducked his
head, waiting for the explosion he was sure would follow.
        "What?" Mike's eyes grew wide. "Why? How? Like in the movies?" His
heart was beating hard. Part of him wanted to run away as fast as he could,
the rest kept him where he was. "I don't know." He saw hurt flash through
Paul. "I mean... I don't know how. I've never been with anyone before like
this."
        Paul hesitated a moment and leaned in, clasped Mike's hands in his
own and pressed his closed lips to Mike's cheek.
        Jean let out another derisive snort. These two were unbelievable!
"No, No!" He smiled wickedly at the two. "Like this, Paul!" He quickly
crossed the space between them, grabbed Paul by his head, and pressed his
open mouth against the surprised boy's.
        Paul's eyes shone like huge saucers in the dim light, but he found
himself slowly responding to the brief embrace.
        "Like that, stupid boy." Jean quickly moved away. "The rest is for
you to discover!" He turned and pounded up the stairs, laughing as he
went. If those two needed a shock to stop their stupid games, then he was
more than happy to oblige! The ache in his groin reminded him of the
attraction he actually felt for the two boys, but his heart still belonged
to another he would never see again. No, this should be their time
together. He would no longer interfere. He'd hated the American for hurting
Paul, but had recognized the game when he saw it. The rest was up to them.
        "What was all that about?" Mike fought back the twinge of jealousy
that coursed through him. His reaction threw him into confusion
again. Jealousy? That was crazy! Why was he jealous? He can't be having
those kinds of feelings! It isn't right! He looked at Paul's silent wide
eyes. "Oh, fuck it!"
        "I'm sorry," Paul slowly brought his attention back from the shock
of Jean's act. "Jean does not like how I kiss?" He shrugged his shoulders,
remembering to blink. His eyes and throat felt dry as he leaned in again
toward Michael and found his lips.
        Mike stiffened. "I can't believe I'm...Mummph." The rest was cut
off by Paul. What was Paul trying to do? He felt a tongue pierce between
his lips to scrape against his teeth. He couldn't help but giggle as he
pulled back suddenly and wiped his mouth unconsciously. "What was that?"
        "It is what Jean showed me," Paul smiled back in embarrassment. He
made a face; Mike tasted terrible! He decided to ask his mother for a way
for Michael to clean his mouth! But until then, "We try again. You do as I
do."
        Mike did as he was told, and returned the embrace to ease his
shaking. Electricity shot through him as he let his hands roam over the
farm boy's warm muscular back. His fingers traced lightly over the ridges
and valleys of Paul's spine and he shuddered at the hands on his own back.
        Paul broke away, laughing quietly so he wouldn't disturb the rest
of the house. "Good?"
        "Yes! Great!" Mike lay back on the blankets and immediately became
aware of his hard penis flipping over the leg of his shorts. He laughed
uncertainly himself as he hurriedly pushed the hem down over his
member. "Eh, well I...."
        "I think I know you," Paul's eyes twinkled as he reached under the
hem and grabbed Mike in his fist. "There is no hiding. We all see already."
        Mike had to agree with that. He hid no secrets from his new
friend. He let his hand trail up Paul's leg to the end of the shorts he
wore to bed. He couldn't see into the darkness of the opening, but could
imagine what lay inside. His hand finally completed its journey when he
encountered the soft skin of Paul's slightly hairy testicles hanging
loosely below a hot shaft. The wiry feeling was so much like his own, but
so different as well. He saw Paul react to the new sensations going through
his body and smiled. He was amazed at how comfortable he felt as all the
objections in his mind were torn away. He was glad to return the favor he'd
received once before from the boy sitting next to him in the near dark.
        "Paul?" his mother called cautiously from the top of the stairs.
        Both boys instantly moved away from each other, straightening their
shorts and willing the pronounced bulges gone.
        "I must go to sleep." Paul gave up trying to hide his state. His
mother had seen him aroused many times and had accepted it as normal for a
boy. He only hoped she wouldn't know the cause of it. "We spend more time
tomorrow, yes?"
        "Yes," Mike whispered back and smiled. His groin hurt. He'd
self-conciously refrained from any contact with his aroused penis for so
long, it felt like the skin was so tight it would split. He closed his eyes
as Paul left and the room descended into complete blackness. Paul filled
his mind's eye as he began stroking himself to release. He imagined his
friend doing the same upstairs over his head. When his release came, it
seemed to gush from his soul. He had no idea when it actually stopped. When
he rolled over to drift off to sleep, he could feel small dribbles still
flowing through his softening flesh.

        Paul's mother looked at him as he stepped into the kitchen. She
absently rubbed his shoulder when she blocked his way. "He will be leaving
soon," she whispered to him.
        "Yes, mother. I know." Paul's voice cracked nervously. How much did
she know?
        "I think you need to check the barn." She glanced dramatically at
the front of Paul's bedclothes and smiled at the ever present bulge they
showed. "Make sure it is closed."
        Paul started at her innocuous request. The hay in the barn had
always been his private place to relieve his tension ever since he
accidentally learned what happened when the skin of his penis was rubbed.
        "Yes, mama." He quietly reached for his coat and shoes. He guessed
they really had no secrets at all within the confines of the small
farmhouse. She'd understand why he wouldn't need his trousers for this
small chore.
_________________________________________________________________________________________

        Jean quietly moved down the overgrown path through the dense wood
blocking the moonlight. He'd delivered the stolen clothing. It had been
stolen from a collaborator's house soon after the American's release. That
had directed the Germans' search to the west. He'd waited until safe, then
delivered the package.
        He smiled to himself savagely; the visit also enabled a bit of
revenge on his part. The man's son had been cute, sleeping in his bed. It
was a shame he'd set out his swastika-adorned Hitler Youth uniform by his
bed; he then would have just been an orphan, not dead like his parents. He
was glad the American boy had already been sentenced to die by the
enemy. They would blame him for any more deaths that occurred. It made
Jean's quest all the easier for revenge against those who'd singled out the
sweet youth he'd loved.
        The dull sound of truck brakes squealing through the trees and a
dog bark brought Jean to a stop against the nearest trunk. He couldn't see,
but listened intently to try to ascertain the direction the troops were
going once they'd disembarked from the transports. He silently slipped away
toward the farmhouse he'd just left. The patrol was moving toward the
farmhouse as well and sounded too large to be just a search party. He moved
faster. He had to give the family as much time to escape as possible before
the enemy had time to surround the house. How did they know? Jean was
certain he'd not been followed. Someone had talked to the enemy! He was
sure of it!

        Paul's dad was instantly awake and stared at Jean's face close to
his own. He felt his wife also come awake.
        "Hurry! Get dressed! The Germans!" Jean hissed urgently.
        "Jean! Wake up Paul and have him help you move the supplies to hide
Michael." The old man was standing in the room immediately.
        "No. No, Richard!" Jean had to make Paul's father understand. "It's
not a search party. They are coming for all of you."
        "All right, Jean." Richard let out a slow breath and looked at his
wife. They'd known this could happen at any moment. He`d been married to
her for twenty years and knew they would face this together. Their only
fear was for Paul. That they would also lose their fifteen year old son was
unthinkable. "Go, wake up Paul and Michael and get them to dress
warmly. Use my coat! Then I want you to take them along the route we had
discussed."
        "But what about you?" Jean asked, already fearing the answer.
        "We will stay to allow our son to escape," Richard stated his and
his wife's certain death as if it was nothing. "As well as you and the
American." He caught Jean in his hard gaze. "But say nothing of this to
Paul. He would stay with us, but there is nothing he can do here but die as
well. Now go!"
        He gazed at his wife with a deep burning love. He knew he could
leave and survive, but she could not. Her health had deteriorated over the
past few years. He would never leave his truest friend and lover. They
shared their life and now would share death as well, but Paul would live
and love in their place. He and his wife both knew that their name would
die with Paul; he would never marry, but their prayer was only that he live
and find happiness with someone. Even if it was the American boy!

        "Paul, get up!" Jean roughly shook the youth. "Get dressed and help
with Michael. The Germans are coming to search. We must hide in the woods!"
        "Won't the Germans miss me?" Paul asked groggily.
        "No!" Jean winked conspiratorially. "You have taken food to the
monks at Saint Dominic and stayed the night!" He slapped Paul's rear as he
left for the cellar. "The good friars love that small ass of yours." He
stopped suddenly, embarrassed by his sacrilege. "I mean your donkey." He
looked guiltily at Paul, who just laughed at his joke. "Hurry! And bring
your father's coat. He wants the American to use it until it is safe to
return!"
        Paul finished shrugging into his own coat as he descended the
stairs to help Mike get dressed. He found Mike was already dressed in his
`new' tan heavy wool clothes. They were well made and almost fit. Though
they had been tailored for someone a little smaller, they would do. Mike
looked like a boy in the process of outgrowing them, but hadn't yet. The
boots Mike slipped into were too big, however. Whoever the clothes had
belonged to would be...No, Paul shuddered as he remembered Jean's tale to
his father, ...would have grown tall.
        A dog barking in the distance brought the three of them scrambling
up the stairs. They met Paul's father, who handed a second machine pistol
and numerous full clips to Jean.
        "Papa? You will be all right?" Paul had no idea where it had come
from, but Its appearance made him uneasy.
        "Yes, you will be home soon." Richard lied to his boy. "Now kiss
your mother and go!"
        Paul's mother embraced and kissed him lightly, the experienced
diplomat's wife showing only the appropriate emotions, and shooed the three
out into the cold dark night. When she was sure the three would not return,
she leaned heavily on her husband and let the tears flow freely as she
examined her own weapon. "Goodbye, Paul," she whispered for the both of
them. "Be happy, my son."

        Paul glanced back at the dark house as he and the others made their
way to the treeline, hugging the shadows as they went. The moon briefly
broke through the low clouds, a full blood red ball low in the sky. The
partial blue ring of icy air surrounding it lent a feeling of unreality to
the situation.
        He should be with his mother and father, but they had ordered him
away. He didn't know why. He'd faced searches by the enemy before. He could
understand Jean taking Michael, but why him as well?
        His attention was diverted away from his thoughts when he tripped
over a root and scrambled to keep his balance. He vowed to concentrate on
where he placed his feet as Jean's angry warning to be quiet was whispered
into his ear.
        He couldn't see Mike behind him, but felt his presence close
by. They both wanted to ask Jean where they were going to hide, but Jean
had made it known that wasn't the time to speak, just follow.
        Paul didn't know how long they'd been traveling; it could have been
hours but was more likely just minutes. An eruption of heavy machine gun
fire, far behind them, brought Paul to a sudden stop.
        "What was that?" he whispered urgently to Jean as the others
approached where he stood. "Papa?...Momma?" He turned suddenly back toward
the dim sounds, an anguished wail building. "Momma! ...Momma! No!
...N...N...No!" He broke and began running back the way they had come.
        "Paul! Wait!" Jean quickly tackled the light youth as Mike looked
on, mute to what they were saying, although the look on his face made it
clear he knew what the gunfire meant. "It is what they wanted!" Jean hissed
and placed his hand tightly over Paul's mouth to stifle the inarticulate
screams of boundless pain that emerged from the boy's convulsing body. "It
is all right! They loved you enough to give you everything they could!"
Jean stoically withstood the wailing boy's hard punches to his back as he
held him down.
        Suddenly he saw Mike on the ground beside Paul, fiercely placing
his head between them on the boy's chest and hugging him tightly around the
waist.
        Mike felt his own tears flow as what he'd fought for came closer to
him than he'd ever thought it would. His own family was safe with an entire
ocean between them and the war he was involved in. They had to win! He had
to win! He knew then that he would never let any more pain crash upon
Paul's - no...his lover's - world, not if he had the power to stop it! He
squared his back to absorb his share of the hard mindless blows directed
his way!

End of Part 3

My sincere thanks to ED for his kind assistance with this story. Great job
on all the other chapters I've sent you from my other stories, ED!  As
usual, let me know what you think. This is my first attempt at a historical
setting. Hopefully not too many anachronisms. (grin)

		    Thanks. Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)