Date: Mon, 27 Aug 2007 19:02:12 -0400
From: Aidan Wilde <aidanwilde@gmail.com>
Subject: "Love Runs Deep" - Chapter 5, Part 1: Alex beneath the Moonlight

Disclaimer: The following quasi-fictional tale is based on a true story.
Some of the names, dates, and places of the story have been changed to
protect the not quite so innocent.  This is not a 60 second tale of lust
and release.  If you like a good story with believably real characters and
a good deal of dramatic elements, then please continue.

This story concerns love, romance, and of course a bit of consenting sex
bits between Gay males.  Ages range from eighteen to twenty-eight in this
story.  If this type of writing is somehow illegal in your area, I first
recommend that you move, and second stipulate that the consequences of your
actions with regards to this story are yours to bear and yours alone.

If you would like to comment on the story, or would like to offer
constructive criticism, please feel free to do so by contacting me using
the following Email address: aidanwilde@gmail.com.  If you would like to be
notified by Email about further postings or submissions by me, including
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Please understand that while your opinions, feelings, and even criticisms
towards this story and it's author will all be very much appreciated and
considered, any ignorant flaming will most emphatically not, and will be
dismissed with little regard or care. I reserve and hold all rights of use
and copyright to this story.  With all that legal mumbo-jumbo out of the
way, enjoy the story.




"Love Runs Deep" - Chapter 5, Part 1: Alex beneath the Moonlight


Fireman Paul Richards hovered above me, waiting.  He was allowing me a
chance to back out, having only finally surrendered my self to him seconds
ago.  He lowered himself towards me and kissed me hard on mouth, tearing
away a few moments later, returning to his previous position of
preparedness.

Backing out now was impossible, as we both knew, but he offered me a final
chance all the same, and I loved him for that.

"OK Aidan.  I want you to flip over baby," Paul patiently instructed.

I did as I was told, somewhat relaxing under the simplicity of not having
to give orders, but simply following them.  I flipped over quickly on the
bed as Paul withdrew slightly, allowing me the room to position myself as
he had indicated.

As I lowered my torso to the bed, I gathered a pillow beneath me and hugged
it tightly to my chest.  I spread my legs, assuming a position very similar
to the one I had put Paul in earlier this morning.

I looked up and over my shoulder, letting Paul know I was ready, and nodded
my head.

"OK, just relax.  I'm going to take care of everything," Paul stated as he
drew closer to me.

I shut my eyes tightly and attempted to concentrate on the moment, trying
to take comfort in the fact that I knew Paul was going to be gentle and
caring.  Despite this knowledge, and the alcohol providing its own liquid
form of courage, a large part of me was still full of trepidation.  Despite
everything, I was still a virgin; simultaneously anxious, nervous, scared,
and eager.

My nerves were somewhat calmed as I felt Paul's hands begin to rub and
caress me.  He began massaging my lower back with a gentle but firm touch.

I tried to concentrate on the warmth and smoothness of his hands.  I let
out a slight gasp as he surprised me by grabbing my erection.  I felt a
slight tingle and a cool sensation on my backside as I realized that Paul
had started licking me.  Soft and sensual noises accompanied his licks and
kisses.  Those sensations, coupled with the suspense of what would happen
next, were making me extremely horny.

Paul's caresses soothed my body and quieted my nerves, but my fear was not
completely allayed.  I still faced the imminent entry of Paul's monumental
pole.

I muttered, barely intelligible, muffled by the pillow, as I felt a warm
wet sensation abruptly invade me.  Paul's tongue and lips had finally made
contact.

Paul moaned when he sealed his lips around my tight little muscle.  I felt
it's vibrations, more than I heard the actual sound.

I was overcome with the intensity of these feelings.

My brain tried to sort the myriad of signals and it attempted, vainly, to
make sense of them.  Paul's hands were everywhere.

I closed my eyes tightly.  Steadily, I moaned as Paul began to further
stimulate me.  He pushed his tongue inside my body.  While rubbing my legs
and inner thighs, he also pulled and yanked on my painfully swollen member.
My back was caressed, my legs, my ass, my penis - all of these began
fighting for my attentions while Paul worked his magic.

The combined grunts and moans we were making, bled into one steady stream
of sound.

I experienced unbearably intense reactions to Paul's gentle caresses, while
the heat and pleasure spread throughout me, centered deep inside my core.

Much too quickly, these feelings vanished.

I realized that Paul had withdrawn his tongue, but he was still caressing
me with his hands.  I moaned at the loss.  I opened my eyes and turned my
head to look over my shoulder at him.  He was smiling, as if to say:
"That's right, I caused all that pleasure, I made you feel that."

His lips and mouth were glistening - shiny and wet with his saliva.  He
licked his lips slowly and deliberately, allowing me to watch him.

"Mmmmm..." he moaned.  "I think I could learn to enjoy that.  I think I
understand why you like doing it."

"Fuck that felt good!  Why'd you stop if you liked it so much?"

"So I could grab this," Paul replied as he reached for the KY which had
been placed back on the dresser after its brief stint in the bathroom.

Paul opened the bottle and squirted a generous amount of the liquid into
the palm of his right hand.  He closed the lid on the bottle and put it to
the side on the bed, but still within arms reach.  He brought both of his
hands together and began to work the liquid between his palms.  After a few
moments of this, Paul's hands moved towards me.

I felt his fingers make contact with my skin, and as he commenced spreading
the slippery fluid around the outside of my tight orifice, I let out the
tiniest of gasps.

Paul's raised eyes met my own.

He was smiling at me while his fingers continued to dance lightly around my
boy-hole.  Without warning, I felt him slip a single finger into me.  There
was no pain, and no discomfort; I barely felt it.  Paul nodded his head
approvingly.

His finger wormed around inside me, gently poking and prodding.  I kept my
eyes on Paul, but almost shut them when Paul's finger brushed tantalizingly
over my prostate.  Observing my reactions, Paul's finger lingered over this
spot, and he stroked it repeatedly.

I saw stars.  The thrill of Paul's finger caressing my g-spot caused my
hips to involuntarily buck backwards towards him, burying his finger deeper
inside me.  I was only half aware of the continual moan that was skillfully
drawn out of me by his talented finger.

While still milking my gland, a sudden tightness and an increased feeling
of fullness heralded the arrival of a second digit.

"Well, you must be more ready than I thought," Paul observed.

With a casual glance, I confirmed that Paul had indeed slipped another
finger inside me.  The feeling was...stimulating - deliciously so.

Again, there was no pain, only the slight elevation in the amount of
pressure I felt, along with an increased amount of heat as he worked the
two digits.  The friction of his fingers sliding in and out of me was not
enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to be pleasurably warm - just
perfect.

I was amazed that I wasn't feeling any pain.  I had been so frightened that
there would be.

"This is almost too easy," Paul noted.

I could only moan in response.

"You must really want this, don't you?"

"Mmmmnnnggg..."

"I take it that was a yes?" Paul purred.

Without warning, a burning heat eclipsed the soothing warmth inside me, as
Paul inserted a third digit, burying it inside me in one fluid motion.  I
sucked in a quick breath through my teeth that sounded more like a hiss.  I
tightened my stomach and clenched my muscles instinctively, which only
served to increase the burning sensation.  It wasn't pain exactly, but the
burning was intense enough to convince my brain that it was unwanted.

Paul froze.

"It's ok baby...I'm sorry.  Are you ok?  Does it hurt?" Paul queried
lightning fast, concern and remorse dominating his voice.

What a difference that third finger made!

Quite abruptly, my magic number had been reached and transcended, my limits
discovered, and summarily announced by the vice-like grip that had seized
Paul's fingers.  And like any virgin in the same situation, I made the same
mistake of tensing up and clenching my muscles, which only served to make
things worse.  A grim realization dawned on me as I contemplated the nature
of this strange and new form of discomfort.

Paul was going to fuck me.

The Super-Ego, my inner voice, screamed:

"Paul is going to... NO, correction," my mind added, "Paul is going to FUCK
you with his HUGE cock!"

My courage failed.  I hesitated - no, this is inadequate - I panicked.
Again like the timid doe, my unconscious reaction was to escape the pain.
I trembled, eyes darting rapidly, instincts shouting: "Flee!"

Paul's free hand quickly moved to soothingly stroke my back, urging me
gently to remain.  Asserting himself calmly, he stroked my tense nerves and
adrenalin filled muscles back towards a semblance of submission.

"Shhh...It's ok, don't be scared baby," Paul whispered.  His voice was
almost parental, reassuring and gentle, but tinged with a confidence that
can only stem from a wisdom borne out of experience.

"We're going to go very, very slowly," He reassured.

I protested.  I was inconsolable.

More reassurances: "There won't be any more pain Aidan, I swear."

Paul further consoled me while the inner-triumvirate of my mind continued
to shout dire warnings.

"It's ok...I'm going to give you all the time you need," Paul added. "Just
relax."

Paul's caressing hand withdrew, but was soon felt again as he began to
stroke my penis.

Then again, I admitted, perhaps I wasn't so inconsolable.

My mental choir was still rebelling: "You're going to let him shove that
huge monster up you? Are you crazy? It'll rip you in half!" Super-Ego
shouted.  Ego tried to silence him, but he would not hear of it.  My Id was
completely drowned out, forgotten - his subtle urgings lost and adrift amid
the inner-psyche's symposium of doom and gloom.

More dire proclamations were issued: "When he rips you open with that tree
trunk between his legs, then you'll have to go to the hospital, and then
what? Questions, is what.  Then, it's all over my friend, tsk-tsk, all
over..."

My eyes shut tightly.  I tried to concentrate on the good feelings of
Paul's hand on my dick.  It had worked before...

"Paul...ah fuck...please, stroke me.  I'm...please, I need time." I
whimpered.

Paul promised, "We've got all the time in the world sweetie.  I'm not
starting anything till you're ready."

"God, I can't believe I'm acting like such a...a baby."

"It's OK Aidan, everyone is nervous their first time.  Shhh.  I know,
believe me baby, I know."

Paul started rubbing me more forcefully.  The warm hand on my newly
awakened erection, gripped tightly.  Paul kissed my left butt cheek, laying
his own cheek against it.

Despite everything, including the mental warfare between the factions of my
inner mind, I noticed that the painful burning had gone.  I still felt a
distinct pressure, but there was no more of that intensely burning
sensation that I had felt earlier.  There was only a warm and full
sensation.  Tentatively, I relaxed my muscles.

A deep sigh escaped me.  Had I been holding my breath the entire time?  I
gulped in air.  My natural instinct, which was to clench my muscles in
response, had been making the burning, stretching, pain sensations, worse.

"That's it baby.  That's it," Paul cooed.

I felt Paul's cheek lift from my butt.  The hand that was tightly gripping
and stroking my erection, pulled my shaft back between my legs.  Paul's
tongue licked the length of it, succeeding in capturing my undivided
attention.

"Are you ready lover?" Paul asked as he withdrew his tongue.

I was ready...and I told him so.

Paul resumed moving his fingers inside me.  As soon as he had once again
located my spot, he began gently stroking it.  More of the good feelings
began to course through me, quickly outweighing the short but vivid
discomfort.  Once again, pleasure became the predominant feeling, and the
pain vanished, barely remembered.

I looked back at Paul, and I bit my lower lip, silently willing him to
continue.  He smiled affectionately back at me, and withdrew his fingers
slowly.

A small voice inside me piped up: "Bring them back!"  The voice was timid
and small, but sounded sure of its self.  My Id had made first contact.  My
Super-Ego warned against listening further, promising dire consequences
should I pay closer attention to this simple-minded ditz brain.

Paul's caressing hand withdrew.  The popping 'snap' of a bottle cap being
flipped open confirmed it.  I watched as he moved the bottle towards me.  I
felt a sudden cold sensation and I realized he was squeezing the liquid
directly into me.

"I know its cold sweetie, but we'll warm it up soon enough," Paul
apologetically promised after I gasped loudly.

Paul soon withdrew the bottle and again tossed it to the side.  Again, his
fingers dipped inside me.  I tried to keep my eyes locked on his, but it
was difficult.

Paul's fingers worked magic inside my body.  He put both of his hands
together and steepled his index fingers, slipping both inside me,
stretching me further.  After this, Paul upped the ante.

He began by slipping a single digit into me, plunging it all the way
inside, down to the knuckle.  Then, just as quickly, he withdrew it.  As
soon as he had withdrawn that finger, he would send a completely different
one right behind it, quickly withdrawing again, but never giving me even a
second of emptiness.  He alternated fingers: middle, index, even a pinky,
which he would wiggle around, driving me wild in the process.

Paul was in complete control.  He was giving me pleasure, and I was
completely at his mercy.  He had aroused a hunger in me seemingly from thin
air, and now my body was responding to his every physical command.

My Super-Ego balked at this new submissiveness, cautioning me that if I
ever lost my control, I would be taken advantage of, and hurt.  It warned:
"Don't let that simple-minded ditz brain's words lower your guard!"

But, I wanted this pleasure!  I wanted to listen to the timid voice that
was barely heard, but oh so seductive.  I wanted to moan like a wanton, and
simple-minded ditz brain!  I wanted to just...let go!  DAMN IT!

I shouldn't need to think about these feelings, control them, or analyze
them any longer.  I just needed to succumb to them, to give up,
surrendering myself completely!

These new and foreign feelings however, did feel like invaders, incessantly
beating upon the defenses I had erected around me my entire life.  The
entirety of the battle had been waged inside me, and completely unknown to
anyone else in the world.  It was a battle for control, and I didn't just
lose it; I threw my hands up in complete and unconditional surrender.

And god-damned, if it didn't feel fucking GREAT!

The mental war - silently fought - was now over, and a victor had been
declared.

The little timid voice inside me grew in strength: "Just enjoy it.  It's
freedom!" It cried, albeit meekly.  I listened, and I understood.  Finally,
I was ready to give in.  A deep-seated fear inside me lifted.

"Paul, I'm ready."

Paul's gaze met my own and he nodded his head knowingly.  He got up on his
knees and withdrawing his fingers, gripped his enormous and still
intimidating manhood in both hands.  He began to stroke himself, never
breaking eye contact with me, refusing to let me go, or let my mind focus
on anything other than his eyes.  I only saw trust, love, and compassion.

"On your back, Aidan," Paul instructed as he continued stroking himself.

I quickly flipped over and spread my legs, grabbing them behind my knees,
refusing to look away, and while doing so, Paul quickly squirted more of
the KY into his hands, which he spread on his hard length.

Paul advanced.  He raised his left hand and grabbed my right leg pushing it
further back.

"Reach down baby.  Help me inside you.  Guide it.  When your hand stops, I
stop.  You set the pace."

My almost made it, but just before my hand almost encircled him, I stopped.

"No. I...You do it Paul.  I ...I trust you."

Paul looked at me with the deepest most penetrating expression I had ever
seen on his face.  His gaze was pure wonder.  Communicating my trust to him
at that moment, did more for our blossoming relationship than I was aware
of at that time.

I moved my hand back to my leg.  I nodded my head.  He removed his hand
from my leg and placed it palm down, fingers spread, on my chest directly
over my heart.

His arm bent at the elbow and he leaned down very slowly, sealing his lips
over mine.  I felt the tip of his sex make contact with me.  Paul pressed
his hips forward, gently and slowly.  I felt the pressure build, barely
noticeable at first, but then, more incessant as he continued to thrust
into me.  Fighting every urge in my body to the contrary, I released
myself.  I opened everything at once: my mouth, accepted his tongue, my
body, accepted his hard manhood, and my very soul, accepted Paul's own.

He entered me.  I gasped as the head of his penis penetrated the ring of
muscle and popped inside me.

There was no pain.

I was both amazed and relieved.

I yielded to him further, opening further up, spreading my legs farther
apart, beckoning him inside me.  Paul continued his steady advance.  The
heat of friction built rapidly as he slid his length inside my no longer
virgin hole.

It felt enormous!  Immense pressure, and burning heat filled my world.  I
moaned into Paul's mouth, which he swallowed, kissing me hard.

It just kept coming.  I was in shock.  How much was left?  I couldn't bear
any more, I was near bursting!

Just when I thought I could take no more, Paul withdrew his lips a fraction
of an inch and whispered:

"I love you Aidan."

I felt Paul's hips press against my butt cheeks as he buried the last
inches of his proud manhood deep inside my quivering body.  I could feel
the glorious warmth from his crotch which was pressed firmly against me.
"Oh fuck..." I thought.

Paul was completely inside me!

I let go of my right leg and reached my hand up behind Paul's neck, pulling
his mouth back to mine, as I gnashed at his mouth with my lips.  Paul had
his entire cock buried deep inside my body, and all I could feel, was
pure...rapture.  I experienced untold bliss as Paul completely filled my
world.

My other hand gripped his right butt cheek, trying to pull him further into
me.  I could sense my toes were curling.  Paul got the message.

He began to make love to me.

Paul slowly withdrew, and just as I felt that I would die from the
agonizing sensation of being deprived of him, he started slowly plunging
back inside me, slowly and deliberately.  His hand pressed against my
chest, as I clung to him, but he still pulled away.  He looked down on me
as he started a steady rhythm.  His jaw clenched and he looked at me
hungrily as he built up steam.  He began a rhythm of very long, slow,
strokes, determined to make me feel his entire length.

Christ, it felt like he had a telephone pole for a dick.

An excruciatingly delicious friction built up inside me, centered around
Paul's piston-like rod.  I could feel my insides clinging tightly to him as
he smoothly pumped his glorious manhood in and out of my writhing body.

With every stroke of his enormous shaft, the head of his penis slid
deliciously over my button, eliciting deep moans from me that were torn
from the very core of my being.  My own penis was painfully swollen and
hard, standing acutely out from my pelvis.  My balls were drawn up tightly
to either side of my shaft, seemingly trying to re-enter my body.

Continual waves of intense pleasure spread from my crotch and enveloped and
devoured every cell in my body.  The entire time, my little Tiger continued
to pound away.

Paul was making love to me.

He had a very serious expression on his face.  His eyes never left mine as
he purposefully and deliberately stroked my insides with his magnificent
penis.  He was doing his best to make me remember this moment for the rest
of my life, and indeed, I will truly never forget it.

"Oh Paul!" I cried out.

Paul said nothing, but continued to spear me, making me want him more.  I
knew I was going to orgasm any second.  I had never ever before felt
anything as emotionally and spiritually powerful as at that moment.  I felt
Paul inside me, my own throbbing member was straining, and stiff, and I
felt the bonding and the love between us.

I felt so many things.  I felt...alive!

The magnificent heat as Paul's length plunged deep within me, warmed my
entire body.  We were both sweating profusely.  The feeling of utter
completeness and wholeness saturated me.  I felt that my own body was
merely an extension of his, and vice versa.  I could feel Paul's pleasure,
and I could see it reflected in his eyes.

Paul's penis was touching nerves in my body that I didn't even know I had.
Every time he buried himself completely in my body, I felt a satisfaction
unlike anything I had ever before experienced, and when he withdrew, it
left me with a sense of emptiness and longing.  Every nerve in my body
tingled with pleasure.

My orgasm was inevitable.

"Paul, I'm going to ...ah fuck, you're making me cum..." I hissed out as I
saw the head of my dick flare, and felt the familiar pain deep within my
balls.  My dick swelled, turned a deep shade of red, and pulsed.  I watched
in utter shock as Paul literally fucked my orgasm out of me.  I screamed as
I climaxed.

"FUCK!"

Paul roared and threw his head back, slamming into me, burying his entire
length deep inside me.  The muscles in our bodies tensed simultaneously as
my own climax triggered his.  As my own orgasm blasted outwards, Paul's
orgasm slammed inwards.  A sudden sensation of intense heat blossomed
inside me as Paul's cock erupted, spewing his white molten essence deep
within me.

My own orgasm pumped powerfully out of me as my body was rocked with
spasms.  The muscles in my ass clamped onto Paul's hard rod, preventing him
from escaping, ensuring that his seed would not be spilled anywhere other
than inside me as we joined in body and spirit.  I cried out to my lover.
Paul became my only deity.

The veil that had been over my eyes for too long, that had caused me to
ignore what lay beyond, was completely torn away.  The Ego's last remaining
defenses crumbled.  The Super-Ego ceased its moral judgments, and was
banished.  The Id howled in triumph.  Now, I no longer needed those
self-inflicted barriers of protection.  No more did I require the multiple
layers of defense.

Paul became my Protector.  Paul became my Defender.  Paul became ...  Paul
became my EVERYTHING.

That moment, everything I had to give, was his; Everything I was or wasn't,
was him.  Because I trusted him completely - finally - Aidan Wilde had
faith, and that faith reigned supreme.

"Paaaaaul!  Oh God!!"

"Ungghhh!" Paul grunted, heaving his body into me, drawing lung-fulls of
air as he continued to pour himself into me.  Paul must have willed his
entire body to pump into me as he impaled my body on his penis, burying it
firmly, and rigidly, deep inside me.

I coated my belly with my own fluids, the first powerful eruptions landing
on my chest, as I too tensed my body and tried to fight against the duality
of the male orgasm; that unique blend of pain and pleasure.

Our eyes met.  Paul looked down at my pulsing erection, and while still
inside me, he bent down, further - further still - until he did the most
amazing thing.

I closed my eyes as Paul took just the head of my gushing member into his
mouth.  As he did so, his hips started moving again.  Lightning quick
thrusts, short and brutal, Paul stabbed at my insides with his still hard
and rampant sex.  His tongue danced against the underside of my penis.  The
head of his cock repeatedly stabbed at the hard and swollen bulb of my
overworked prostate.

The fire within my balls had not gone out.  Just as I thought I had
released everything, the plateau I was climaxing upon became a cliff, and I
was again flung head first off it.

Another powerful orgasm rocked my body.  My nerves shattered from the
overload.  I felt myself climax again inside Paul's mouth.  For a moment,
my entire universe went completely black as Paul seemingly sucked out all
the light within.  My entire body was on fire, and my balls heaved,
painfully, weakly, but in sublime pleasure, as they drained themselves
completely inside Paul's suctioning mouth.  A burning spasm seized my
entire midsection.  I was in excruciating pain, and yet, I wasn't.

It was delirium.

My eyes shut tightly.  Paul siphoned me dry while he thrust wildly inside
me, his penis trying to find the very core of my body, to touch it, and
plant part of himself inside of it, forever.  This was it.  It was too
much!  My eyes screwed shut as I tried to bury the scream in my throat.

Paul was staring intently at me as my eyelids finally fluttered open.  He
was licking his lips.  He bent forward and cupped my cheeks into both of
his hands as he sealed his mouth against mine.  We kissed.  Paul was still
inside me, buried completely, and lodged snugly within me.  My own penis
was rapidly shrinking, and having been drained completely, a dull ache
spread out to the tips of my body from the center of my groin.

Paul's tongue was slippery and sweet against mine.  His wet and soft lips
danced on my own.  After a time, he withdrew and smiled down at me.  As he
hovered over my chest, he bent downward and began to lick my chest and
abdomen.  No words were needed.  I couldn't have spoken even if I had
wanted to.  It felt as if Paul had sucked out my voice along with my seed.
He completely drained my body.

Again, we kissed, my essence coating his tongue, which I greedily sucked it
into my mouth.  The process was repeated, until Paul had thoroughly cleaned
me.

My entire body was swimming in a sea of euphoria.

After Paul's tongue had journeyed across my chest, and my skin glistened
from his saliva, he reached down and grabbed my left leg, which was lying
limply outside his own.  He brought it over his right shoulder and across
his body, turning me onto my right side, while still remaining imbedded
inside me.

Paul maneuvered my body until I was lying on my side, and lay down behind
me, snuggling up against my back.  He nuzzled against the back of my neck,
anointing it with soft and gentle kisses.  His left hand reached around me,
clasping my own which he squeezed.  As my little Tiger snuggled into my
body, he whispered into my ear.

"Thank you Aidan.  Thank you so much."

"I love you Paul," I replied, overcome with emotion as I choked on the
words.

"Love you more," Paul whispered in my ear.

We fell asleep in each other's arms.


---------------------((O))---------------------


Some time later, I awoke, alone.  I turned over, searching quickly for Paul
- a sudden but baseless and silly worry plaguing me.  Paul was sitting in a
chair, silently, hands clasped with elbows on his knees, watching me.  I
let out a relieved sigh.  He was still completely naked, and still in the
room.  I smiled.

"Nickel for your thoughts?" I asked, hoping to elicit a more revealing
response by upping the ante from the last time I had asked that exact same
question.

"I was just watching you sleep.  You looked peaceful, content...for once,"
Paul answered.

"Did we swap bodies last night or something?  I feel weird."

"No.  At least I don't think we did.  But I did have some strange questions
in my mind after last night."

"Last night?  What time is it anyways?" I asked as I turned over searching
for the alarm clock.

"It's nine in the morning."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.  "You mean I've been asleep all this time?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been up?"

"For a few hours."

"Wow.  OK, hold those questions, I need to go to the bathroom," I replied,
suddenly aware of my bladder, and bowels.

I sat up slowly, feeling uncharacteristically sluggish.  I stood, getting
up slowly from the bed, and as I began to walk to the bathroom, I realized
why.  I was thoroughly fucked; literally.  I ambled to the bathroom,
bowlegged no doubt.

Paul tried to hide a smirk, failing, my scowling face caused him to flush
deeply.  I could tell that part of him was proud of his handiwork.

"Ha ha, laugh it up.  We'll see who laughs last," I countered, still
scowling, though only half-heartedly.

I entered the bathroom, immediately sitting on the toilet, and released
myself, shuddering as I did so.  Once that was accomplished, I washed my
face and brushed my teeth, spending a good deal of time just hovering above
the sink and studying my reflection.  I was smiling, not the normal relaxed
look my face normally displayed, but an honest-to-god grin.  I was glowing.

Feeling worlds better suddenly, I returned to the room.  Lying down on the
bed, I beckoned for Paul, and he quickly got up from the chair and joined
me.

He laid against me, his head in the crook of my armpit, and with his left
leg and arm draped over me.  He twirled his fingers idly in the sparse but
dark hair on my chest.  I drew my large comforter over our bodies.

I hugged his naked and warm body to me.

"So what did you want to ask me?"

"Not necessarily ask you, but just general questions.  Like, was I ok?  Did
I hurt you at all?"

"No Paul, you didn't hurt me, and yes I'm quite ok, even if I am going to
walk around for a few days like someone tried to park a Trident missile up
my butt."

We both smiled, softly, as lovers.  Paul continued to twirl his fingers
gently on my chest.  He looked up into my eyes.

"You were more than OK Tiger.  You were magnificent.  I want you to make
love to me again, as many times as you want."

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

"I wish we could be inside each other, forever."

We gazed lovingly at each other.  I kissed his cute nose.  Paul shut his
eyes as I did so, opening them again after I had withdrawn.

"You know, I had a multiple orgasm, the first I've ever had.  Paul, you
gave me the best and most powerful climax I've ever experienced.  I've
never had one like that before, but you making love to me did it.  You
created that.  Without you, I would be nothing, baby."

"You don't know how much that meant to me too.  When I felt you climax,
again...in my mouth...It was incredible!  I just remember trying to swallow
it all...you were so hard.  You just kept cumming and cumming.  It...it
made me feel so good, and proud, and I...I felt so close to you then."

I brought my hand up to his face and stroked his cheek while shaking my
head gently.

"No, my lover, you weren't close to me, you were me - and I was you.
Something happened to both of us last night.  Paul, baby, you didn't just
make love to my body, you made love to every part of me.  Our souls joined.
I felt, no, I shared your feelings, and you shared mine.  We're more than
just friends and lovers baby..."

Paul finished my sentence: "We're...soul-mates."

Paul's beautiful blue orbs silently acknowledged our words.  His head moved
towards me and we kissed deeply and passionately, every kiss, becoming more
than just a kiss.  Every one, becoming the only communication we needed,
and each kiss was more complex and meaningful than the last.  Each kiss
meant more, and said more, than the one before it.

We continued to talk about our feelings, and how each of us felt complete
when we were together.  We cried tears of joy as we embraced each other
tightly, refusing to let go of one another.

For the rest of that entire day, we were in each other's arms.  Paul's body
was my only food, his breath my only air, and his beautiful face as it
shined down upon me, was the only light in my universe.  He was my
everything, and my only.

As we made love, over and over again, sometimes with me on top of him,
sometimes with him on top of me, and sometimes side by side, we grew as
human beings, together.  Our love grew, and when we could no longer contain
our passions, we climaxed together, as one.

We pushed our bodies to the absolute limit of physical and emotional
endurance during those three days.  We drained each other so utterly, that
our last orgasms were almost painfully dry, but we didn't even notice.
Perhaps, I will write about those days in the future, but suffice it to
say, those times gave me some of the most powerful and enjoyable
experiences of my life.

I discovered a whole new side of my self with Paul.  I learned how to lose
and surrender control, and to not be afraid to place my faith in another
human being.  With Paul, I learned what real trust, and faith, meant.  I
learned that the fear that was deep inside me, the fear that Paul's
unconditional love had banished, did not control me.  I could escape it -
we could escape it, together.  He showed me how.

Paul learned how to lose himself, to communicate his feelings, to
concentrate on the seriousness of his feelings and to express them, instead
of appearing as if these serious feelings did not exist.  Paul was able to
remain carefree but to also express his serious side, and without fear of
more pain brought about by betrayal or heartbreak.  Paul learned to trust
again.  This time though, he learned what real love really felt like.  I
showed him.

We both learned to love one another, and as we shared this love, we used
our strengths to fill in the weaknesses in each other.  We were opposites
in many ways, but when we combined ourselves, we were complete.  Separate,
we were flawed, but together, and especially as we made love, we formed
perfection itself.  We were unshakable.

Paul and I were what Romeo and Juliet could have been, if the flame of
their love had not been extinguished by the fickle and cruel hand of fate.
Had we lived in William Shakespeare' day, it would have been our love to
which sonnets would have been composed.  It would have been our love that
influenced the ballads and songs of the troubadours.  It would have been
our love, and the intensity of it, that would have rid the world of its
pathetic and senseless prejudice and hate.

How could our love be wrong?

It couldn't.

It was Saturday before we returned to the world outside.  Both of us were
so utterly satisfied and content, that we wanted nothing, perhaps with the
exception of more of each other.

Now, physical demands were merely a way of ensuring that we could continue
being together, with the energy, vigor, and stamina necessary to power our
often frenzied love-making.  Just when we thought we could go no further
and that we were completely spent, we looked, touched, or whispered
something, and our passions built, and climaxed anew.  The fire that burned
brightly between us would not die.  It was a continual bonfire - both of us
barely able to contain the blaze.

During those last three days of the week, we learned more about each other,
than we had learned about ourselves, over our entire lives.

When Saturday finally arrived, we opened the door to step out onto the
balcony, and greeted the morning sun and clear blue sky - but we did it
together, as a couple.  The entire world seemed suddenly brighter, crisper,
fuller, and more alive!

This was life!  Not our jobs, or our careers!  Life was neither the clothes
we wore, nor the food we ate.  Our love was all that truly held any meaning
for us then.  In fact, it was all that had ever mattered.  We were alive,
not just breathing.

Even though we did not embrace each other in the outside world and even
though we did not kiss outside our room - for fear of being seen - our eyes
would meet and nothing else would be needed.  We knew what the other was
thinking.  If we had been in front of the Admiral himself, he would have
seen two shipmates, only.  He wouldn't have had to ask...

And we wouldn't have to tell.

Anyone who had looked deeper, and was looking for that spark, would have
known.  He or she would only need peer into our eyes as we gazed longingly
and lovingly at each other.  They would not have seen a spark there - they
would have glimpsed the pulsing heart of a maelstrom.  A storm of such
fury, that they would have instantly known: here are two individuals in
love.

And we were in love.

We were on top of the world.  And it was at just that moment that the
bottom fell out from beneath us.

---------------------((O))---------------------


Monday morning arrived, and after the glorious weekend of sex, eating out,
shopping, and riding around that Paul and I did together, even getting into
my Dress Blues with Paul's help was almost anti-climactic.

"Aidan, you look perfect.  Stop worrying," He reassured me as he finished
adjusting my Trouser buttons, his hands lingering intimately.

I sighed audibly.  Paul was right, as usual.  My uniform was perfect, my
shoes were shined to a high gloss, my grooming and haircut were impeccable,
but my demeanor was restless and worrisome.

"I know, I know.  The sooner we get there and get this over with, the
sooner we can get back here, I can slip out of this thing," I informed Paul
as I leaned down and kissed him. "And the sooner I can slip into you..."

"What could make you so anxious to do that?" my Tiger asked.

"The thought of your gorgeous body, naked, moaning and panting beneath me
maybe?" I smiled back.

As Paul stretched on his tip-toes to kiss me, he grinned, whispering,
"Pervert."

We soon arrived at the Off-crew office, about half an hour early.  We had
decided to walk instead of drive the hundred or so yards distance.  This
time provided an opportunity to collect ourselves, and slip back into our
disguises.  We looked at each other often, but fought back the emotions and
the smiles that now came so easily.  Such glances could have undesired
repercussions.

The Louisiana off-crew office was on the first floor of the two-story
building.  Both of us entered the off-crew office and walked towards the
large conference room across the hall from our boat's office.  Both of us
sat down in the back of the large room in the small desks that resembled
the small high-school types that both of us no doubt sat in during our
teenage years.  The desks were a bit larger than those, but were designed
similarly.  We waited, chatting about work.

Upon entering, I had observed several plaques and award certificates along
with medals on the long table at the front of the room.  Neither of us
bothered to look at them.  Other than receiving my own award, I was
unconcerned about the others.

As people started to filter in, I noticed that none of the Chiefs, or any
other sonar tech's had come in yet; mainly just some (1)J.O's, and
(2)Nuke's.  At about 0715, people started arriving quickly in groups,
taking seats and segregating themselves according to their respective
divisions.  Even though no names were on the desks, we all sat in the
section where the rest of our division usually sat.

The exceptions to this unwritten code of conduct, were obvious friendships
or small cliques within the boat.  Paul and I were a relatively new
development.  It was highly likely that most of our shipmates were
completely unaware that we were rooming together, and that was how it would
remain - neither of us would volunteer this information.  The less
questions we had to answer, or information we divulged through our actions,
the better.  We understood the rules of the careful cat-and-mouse game we
played.

As more of the other Sonar Tech's arrived, I noticed that my (3)LPO,
Hamsey, was also in his dress blues, along with a few other's.  I thought
nothing of it.

The Chief's finally made their way into the office, followed closely by the
Division officers and finally, the XO, who upon arrival, and seeing that
everyone had found their seats, nodded to the Chief of the Boat, who stood
at attention in front of the double doors.  He called Louisiana to
attention-on-deck, and we each stood up smartly at attention as the Captain
entered.  He immediately ordered us to be seated.

The Captain stood at the podium and informed us officially of the awards
ceremony after he congratulated us all on another successful run, and
commended us for achieving the highest grade possible on the Tactical
Readiness Evaluation during the patrol.  Louisiana Blue had received an
Excellent.  We had performed at the highest level possible for the
inspection.  We had proven our abilities in war fighting and readiness,
above and beyond the call of duty.  The Captain's pep talk was well
received.

The doors were closed, and the Captain really started motivating us,
congratulating us for being the 'best damned boat' on the waterfront.  He
whipped us into a frenzy and bolstered our feelings of unit superiority and
camaraderie.  He did what any good Captain would do: he appealed to our
emotions and increased our pride and morale while doing so.  At that
moment, doing sixteen more years in the Navy seemed highly possible -
perhaps even enjoyable.

As the XO came up and started reading off the placards and award
certificates, the COB called out the names of the recipients.  Each man
would come up and shake the hand of the COB and then turn to the Captain as
the he pinned the medal on them, or handed them their award plaque or
certificate, and a picture would be taken of the two.  The XO would read
any certificates as applicable while this took place.

We were all cheering for those being awarded.  That was when I noticed
Chief Gelli look back at me.  He wasn't smiling.  Something about the
expression he favored me with looked...wrong.

The names continued and the list of remaining awards got smaller, and
smaller.  Finally, the last group, the Weapons department, received our
credit.

The Captain congratulated each of us in doing a superb job during the
evaluation, and the Sonar division received special attention and praise.
Memories were revisited while we relieved the period in our minds as the
Captain reviewed the events of the inspection with approval.  Again, the
COB started calling names.

"Sonar Technician Second Class, Hamsey, front and center," The COB called
out.

The XO began reading:

"To Sonar Technician Second Class, Submarines, Bryan Hamsey, For
professional achievement in the superior performance of his duties while
serving as Lead Petty Officer of the Sonar Division of USS Louisiana Blue
crew, for Patrol Fifteen.  Petty Officer Hamsey's quick thinking and
initiative during a graded maneuvering watch for a recent Tactical
Readiness Evaluation while troubleshooting and repairing the UQN-4
Fathometer..."

"What...the...fuck?" I whispered, mouth agape, as my jaw dropped.

The cabin had just depressurized.  Chief Gelli's face was red.  So was
mine.

"...directly contributed to Louisiana's receiving the grade of Excellent.
His superior attention to detail enabled Louisiana to successfully track
and prosecute targets resulting in a perfect Five of Five score during a
recent Torpedo Shoot proficiency exercise..."

The color drained from my face.

Chief Gelli couldn't meet my eyes.  I turned to Paul with an expression of
bewildered but growing fury.  Paul didn't understand what was going on, but
he could sense something was dreadfully wrong.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He whispered.

"That fat mother fucker is being handed MY fucking NAM!" I whispered
through clenched teeth.

"...and unswerving devotion to duty reflected great credit upon himself and
were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval
service, signed this day..."

"I don't fucking believe this shit..." I said, just a bit too loudly.  The
eyes of several people sitting near me looked back at me.

The Sonar division collectively looked confused.  Some hung their heads,
refusing to watch, others shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders in
knowing resignation.  Chief Gelli was motionless as everyone watched Hamsey
shake the Captain's hand while he accepted the award and got his picture
taken.

Everyone knew that I had been on watch on the fathometer when it had shit
the bed during the TRE maneuvering watch.  EVERYONE knew that I had fucking
fixed it, with the Admiral and inspection staff staring over my shoulder.
Everyone knew it!  But I wasn't the one who did it!  Hamsey had done it
all, he was the one being awarded.  Not me.

I had just been completely shit on.

Chief Gelli was a fucking liar.  Here I was in my dress blues for nothing.
I was furious.  I saw red, and everywhere I looked, I saw charlatans and
false proselytizers.

Hamsey returned to his seat, all smiles.  The fourteen year second class
dirt bag just got the fucking NAM I worked for, of course the
son-of-a-bitch is smiling, I thought.  I wanted to strangle his fat,
turkey, neck.

The award ceremony concluded as I sat simmering in rage.  People began to
file out, but I continued sitting there in silence.  Chief Gelli got up,
turned to me, and saw the anger boiling up just beneath the surface
reflected in my eyes.

"Meet me in the Wep's office."

He remained expressionless as he spoke, and turned around, filing out of
the room.  Paul, with sadness and confusion coloring his expression, turned
to walk out, falling behind his division mates.

The world wouldn't stop spinning.

In a daze, I made my way into the office, saying nothing.  The look on my
face caused the few people unlucky enough to find themselves between me and
my next step, to dart quickly back out of my path.  I, no doubt, resembled
a raging juggernaut as I stalked with grim purpose towards the office door.

Chief Gelli was sitting behind the Wep's desk.

"Shut the door Wilde."

The walls reverberated from the force of the door slamming behind me.  You
could have heard a pin drop in the office.  People everywhere sensed the
tension, and knew something was happening.  Ears perked up, heads were
turned, and all those around leaned towards the door, trying and make out
the conversation.  They needn't have concentrated so hard.  They would have
easily heard the important parts of the conversation from the parking lot.

"What the fuck was that about Chief?"

"I'm sorry.  Look, this shit all came to a fucking head this morning, and I
can explain it, just try and keep calm."

"Calm?  I need to keep calm?  Why the fuck should I be calm?  That fat
fucker got the NAM that should be on my fucking chest right now!"

"Wilde, this isn't going to help you..." Chief Gelli sighed and rubbed his
eyes.

"You have to understand, He's your LPO, he was going to get an award
anyways, Evals are coming out a month from now, and the next advancement
cycle is almost here.  But we can only submit so many people for patrol
awards.  You know that."

"What I know is that fucking politics as usual is why a dirt-bag, Fourteen
year, Second Class, is going to get an extra point he can put on his Evals
for the next advancement cycle.  What I know, is that every swinging dick
on this boat knows I was only a point away from second class the first
god-damn time I took the rating exam for it.  Everyone in this damned
division knows it," I accused, barely able to contain my voice to normal
volume levels.

I was far from being done.

"Who else in Sonar scored a fucking ninety-six percentile on their Second
Class exam the first time they ever took it? WHO?  Have you ever seen
anyone score that high the first time?  Huh?  What other Third Class in
this division can do sine and cosine tables in their head?  Can any other
Third or Second out there do TMA in their head like me? Anyone at all?  Can
they track a fucking Akula II during trainers on narrowband like I can?
Can they calculate a firing soloution for a fucking range target within
five degree course error, can Hamsey?  Can he do any of that?  The fucker
can barely pass his PRT!"

I was breathing heavy.  My emotions would not let me be silent anymore.  My
tirade was full of vitriol and accusations.

"Look, your next Eval is due in a month, you know you're going to get at
least a (4)MP, maybe even a (4)EP..."

"Fuck the god-damned EP!"

Chief Gelli's jaw clenched.  He wasn't used to dealing with his
subordinate's in this fashion.

"I could be a second off the damned test score alone with one more damn
point, a point that NAM would have given me!  The exam scores are due next
fucking month!  You know I'm going to fucking ace it.  I stand
Battle-Stations Narrowband for fuck sake!  A goddamned Third Class sitting
on a stack a fucking First Class should be!  Hamsey is on the fuckin
Time-frequency phones, repeating what I fucking tell him!"

Chief's patience was wearing thin, and I could tell.  But he let me go on,
perhaps sensing my need to vent my frustrations.  At that moment, he seemed
almost human.

"When we shot those fucking torpedoes, we got a fucking perfect because the
minute those frequencies changed, it was me who was on top of it.  The
captain and the inspection team was bird-dogging my stack, narrowband, ME!
And I fucking did that job better than someone who's been in for a fucking
decade longer than me!"

"Look..."

"And then he gets the credit for fixing the fucking fathometer?  Are you
fucking joking?  HE WAS IN SONAR!  He wasn't even in Control!  The Admiral
and the Captain saw my (5)dick-skinners in the goddamn cabinet when the
card fried, not HAMSEYS!  It was me that fucking racked out that goddamn
son-of-a-bitch to replace that card, not him.  The Captain told ME to
(6)battle-short it and do my best.  I was there, not Hamsey.  Hell, you
were fucking top-side!  You think he knew what the fuck to do?  He would
have had to call you, but thank god, I can read a tech manual after being
on the boat for more than a year.  I can read em so good, that I guess
that's why I do all the fucking tags for the division too isn't it?  Let's
just come out and be truthful about everything.

"Wilde, I know all that...yes, you do know a lot about sonar, probably more
than most of my fucking second's out there, you know you are my go-to
guy...but..."

"But what?  The truth, Chief..."

"But it's because you know that, and you don't mind letting everyone else
know it too, that you are pissing people off.  You're stepping on people's
toes!  You can't just go around correcting everyone, especially Chiefs
who've been in for 15 fucking years.  It's not that you're
disrespectful...you're fucking arrogant."

"BULLSHIT!  If some one's wrong, you're damn right, I'll fucking tell them
so. I won't let them fuck something up in front of me when I know they're
wrong and I'm right.  Lives depend on me, and my knowledge!  And yeah, I'll
even pull my weapon on a fucking Chief when he tries to barge by me when
I'm standing Top-side, is that what this is about? Huh?  Me almost shooting
that fucking moron Squadron Chief for trying to see if he could sneak by me
last refit, is that it?  He get upset and whine to the Captain about my
lack of respect for his khaki's when I dropped his ass to the fucking
deck?"

Chief Gelli put his face in his hands, and sighed deeply.

"I'd do it again too, even if the fucking Admiral himself tried to pull
that little inspection bull-shit, he'd be on the fucking deck too, with the
barrel of my nine millimeter in the back of his neck!  The alternative
would be far worse for me, and you know it.  You know how seriously I take
my job, and people don't fuck with me because of it.  Is that what this is
really about?

Chief looked at me in silence, shaking his head.

"I don't believe this...What, you want me to let him by so he can open up
his briefcase in front of the Captain and show him a box with the word
'bomb' written on it?  HUH?  You think that would have been better, me
getting dis-qual'ed Petty Officer of the Deck, and all because I should
have displayed more respect for some jackass just because he's in fucking
khaki's and I'm not?  Are you fucking joking?"

"That's not what this is about.  Now shut the fuck up and sit down.  I get
to talk now!"  Chief hissed out, barely able to restrain himself.

My fury had far from burned out.  Reluctantly, sitting just on the edge,
letting him know I wasn't going to be appeased this time, I complied with
his request.

"Look, you know you're going to be putting on Second most likely next
cycle, but if you let this get to you, your Eval is going to be what kills
you.  You're too fucking outspoken, and you're pissing people off, and
frankly, you're starting to make it very difficult on me to speak up for
you.  I admit it, I'm grateful to have you here, you have no idea how much
sometimes, like during TRE.  Look, you know I'm not good with this kind of
shit, but I tried to do right by you, and it didn't work, all I can do is
promise you that I'll try to make it up to you."

"Yeah, well I won't hold my fucking breath."

Chief sighed deeply.

"If you don't have anything more for me, I'm going to go home and get out
of this fucking uniform.  I don't even know why I have it on - certainly
it's not because I needed it this morning..." I said, my voice dripping,
ice-cold.

"Go."

"Aye-aye Chief," I retorted, executing a smart about-face and opening the
door.

I stalked out of the office, shutting the door behind me.  I looked around.
Every eye in the office was staring right back at me.

The other Chief's and First Classes were frowning at me.  Their looks said:
I didn't understand the way things work, I didn't know my place, and I
wasn't playing ball.  I was an individual, not a team player - an anathema.

The other Thirds and the NUBs wore expressions that were a mixture of shock
and awe.  Their looks said: Wow, Wilde just told the Navy to collectively
go fuck itself.

The Second's were looking about the same.  Their memories of their own
desire and fight to make that rank were coloring their expressions.  Their
looks said: We understand, and we empathize.

All save one.

Hamsey's face was as red as a beet.  His look said: He knew he didn't
deserve credit for my actions, and what made it worse, was that he also
knew everyone else was aware of it as well.  But what I saw that others
didn't, was the hate he had for me in his eyes.  And though the feeling was
mutual, the jealousy, envy of my knowledge, and the realization that I
would never again show him an ounce of respect - all colored his reaction.

Good, I thought.  I was glad the piece of shit heard every fucking word.
My eyes shot daggers at him.  I could no more silence the next words out of
my mouth than I could stop time itself.

"Congratulations on your NAM Petty Officer Hamsey.  You certainly deserved
it," sarcasm and spite dripping off the words as they lanced out of me.
His face paled instantly.  I turned my back on him before he could choke
out a response.

I stormed out of the office.  I noticed absolutely nothing.  I didn't even
notice Paul as he called to me in the hallway, trying to find out what
happened.  I was barely conscious of arriving back at the barracks.

I took my uniform off, looking blankly at it while wondering abruptly what
it all meant.  I finished changing clothes.  The colors I selected ended up
mimicking my mood - dark and black.

I looked around the room, feeling suddenly disgusted with everything.  I
reached under my bed and retrieved my suitcases, placing them on top of my
bed.  I opened my closet and started retrieving my boxes, placing them
around the room.

I started packing.

Sometime, a few hours later, Paul arrived, and after he closed the door, he
stood frozen in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?  I'm packing," I retorted, not bothering
to look up.

"But why?  What's wrong?"

"I'm packing because I'm moving out of this fucking barracks.  I'm going to
get as far away from this place as possible."

I felt Paul's hand on mine.

"But...what happened, why are you...?"

I looked up at him, and saw the confusion and hurt that was on his face.
Instantly, I felt the feedback from it, and I was hit full force by our
combined emotions.  I grabbed him roughly, and hugged him tightly, stroking
the back of his head.  I ran my fingers through his hair and brushed my
lips against his forehead.

"Oh Paul...it's not you baby.  It's the fucking Navy...I can't wait till I
can get out of this shit..."

"But, if you move out, what will happen to us?" Paul whispered up at me,
his eyes growing wetter by the moment beneath his confusion and hurt.

"Nothings going to change.  Look, here's what we're going to do..."

Consoling Paul, as we both sat down on the bed together, I explained to him
the rough plan I had formulated in my head.

I would move out of the barracks when I had found a suitable apartment or
house in the area.  Since I was getting paid year round housing allowance,
I could afford this, but Paul, since he would not qualify for the same,
would have to technically remain here in the barracks.  He would have to
leave a few things in the room to maintain the appearance that he was
living here, but in reality he would basically be living with me off base.

The thought of the freedom that we could have to be alone together suddenly
seemed very appealing to both of us.  We could be together almost all the
time, we could sleep together, make love to one another without fear of
being discovered or overheard, and we could maintain appearances, while
indulging in our new relationship.  It sounded like the perfect plan.

By the end of the week, I had successfully received the keys to my new
townhouse, and used the following weekend to move all my things in and get
settled.  The past week of off-crew was largely uneventful.  Refit
assignments were being passed out, and after talking with Chief Gelli, I
managed to talk him into making my assigned duties coordinate with Paul's,
the reasons behind the request remaining a mystery to him.

Paul had been assigned to a paint team, and would be repainting the boat
while it was tied to the pier, and now, I would be joining him.  Chief had
managed to land me a comfortable job standing sail-watch with the other
crew and was shocked when I asked to be put on the paint team, which in his
mind was a less desirable job.

I managed to convince him that my reasoning for asking for the change was
the fact that the Gold crew COB was thinking about making the sail-watch
stay and sleep on board with the duty section, instead of being allowed to
go home in between watches, as we had allowed their crew to do last refit.
Chief bought this excuse and changed my duties with little protest,
probably somewhat influenced by and trying to make up for the events of
Monday.

Now that our schedules for the next month were the same, Paul could stay in
our apartment and we could go into work together, leave together, and get
back to our new home together.  In fact, moving out could be one of the few
awesome things to happen to both of us.

However, I was still not over Monday's incident.  Things would get even
worse when I learned that Hamsey would be working as the Paint locker
custodian, which meant I had to see him every day for the next 4 weeks.

The situation would continue to spiral downward until my deteriorating mood
and attitude would finally begin to affect the relationship between Paul
and myself.  Everything came to a head a few days after refit assist had
started when Hamsey and I got into it in the paint locker.  We had
basically cursed at each other over some bullshit, with me not showing him
an ounce of respect the entire time, talking to him as if he were some NUB.
And in my eyes, he was.  Let him tell Chief about it for all I cared.  I
ended up storming out of the Paint Locker in disgust and gaffing off for
the rest of the day.

When noon rolled around, and we were finally cut loose for the day, I
stormed off base with Paul in tow.  We raced back to the apartment, and
quickly showered and changed clothes so that we could go out for lunch.  My
mood resembled a bank of black clouds gathering together to form a
thunderhead that would soon explode in a fury of lightning.  I had imagined
spending time with Paul alone would fix my mood.

Everything began to go wrong.  The gathering storm was about to be
unleashed.


---------------------((O))---------------------


The restaurant we settled on sat on the bank of the Cumberland Island
Sound.  It overlooked the St. Mary's waterfront and was a popular tourist
attraction for its quaint small-town charm, and antique décor.  The tables
were lit with old oil-burning lamps in elaborate wrought iron sconces, the
wicks protected from the wind by slightly opaque, Tiffany-style, glass
globes.  Paul and I managed to find a relatively secluded corner that was
bit out of the way, and somewhat private.

The waitress that greeted us barely registered in my mind.  Simply thinking
about Monday, or visualizing Hamsey's smiling face as he shook the
Captain's head was enough to send my blood pressure skyrocketing.  I let
Paul order for us.  I was barely conscious of anything except my own dour
thoughts and mood.  I could see the worry and concern on Paul's face, but
for some reason I could not bring myself to console him or assure him that
I was all right.

Things were not right, and it was me that needed consoling, I thought.  I
was the one whose life and career had been dealt the harshest blow.
Despite my love for Paul, the newfound hatred and discontent for every
other thing in my life took center stage as it all played out like a comedy
of errors.

The waitress returned with drinks. Paul had ordered me a beer, which I
rapidly scoffed down.  It was my favorite: Stella Artois.  In hindsight, I
could have been more appreciative of his considerate choice.

The meal came, and I picked at it, complaining all the while, seeing the
dim light flicker on Paul's concerned face as I continued to explain my
feelings and mood to him.  The food lost its taste, and I barely touched my
plate; things both strange and oddly indicative of my current mental state.
The beer however, I downed as soon as it was brought out, which was often.
Paul, noticing my lack of appetite, asked if there was anything wrong with
the meal.  I waved my hand in dismissal.

"It's not horrible, it's just boring.  Like this fucking town!  Fake, and
boring, and it perfectly mirrors every cow-eyed, slack-jawed redneck in it!
There's nothing to do here unless you're over 65 and retired!  Then you can
go golfing every other day at the almighty "Osprey Cove" while your wife
sits on her fat ass at some women's social gossiping about town-council
meetings!  It's an utter and trite bore!" I replied, the gathering
resonance in my voice causing a few patrons to turn their heads in
curiosity.

I downed my latest beer and motioned for our waitress to bring another one.

I continued on, my words gaining in strength along with the low rumbling in
my mind.  Soon, the conversation, much like the beer, was flowing freely
through me.

Paul's expression was dire and apologetic as he smiled thinly at a few of
the curious onlookers.  The waitress approached, inquiring if anything was
wrong, concern on her face, apparently just noticing the fact that I had
downed my fifth beer in less than about fifteen minutes.  I dismissed her
like a feudal lord dismissing a peasant - scorn and contempt crowned with a
look of immoderate annoyance.

Paul watched in abject bewilderment as I poured out vitriol and accusations
against lying Chiefs, fat stupid First-Classes, stolen NAMs, and lousy
Captain's.  As these thoughts poured out of me, I poured more alcohol in,
perhaps as a physical replacement for the mental pit in my stomach.

The waitress approached again a few minutes later.  A few of the patrons
had apparently been talking to her and pointing at our table, tentatively
glancing in my direction with disapproving nods.  Apparently, I was
becoming loud and obnoxious.  She again asked if anything was wrong.

I had just been telling Paul about how I had given Chief Gelli a firing
point procedures solution from Narrowband for the third torpedo target
during TRE.  The solution had proved almost ninety-five percent accurate, I
was off on the target's course by 5 degrees.  The target's relative range,
speed, and depth, I had nailed.

My solution had been more accurate than the one being used in Control as
the master solution.  I remembered begging Chief Gelli and Hamsey to tell
Control that Sonar's solution - my solution - was more accurate.  Hamsey
had kept silent.  We managed to score a hit despite the inaccuracy.  If we
had missed the target, I would have been sure to explain why - no doubt
this was more of my 'arrogance'.

That accurate of a solution on a live target under inspection conditions
from a Third class operator was unheard of.  It probably still is.  The
Inspector that had been in Sonar was incredulous.  The fact that I had
calculated the most accurate solution on the entire boat had even made it
into his official report.  I was damn proud of it, and deservingly so.

I was tired of being ignored because of my rank, and I was tired of being
interrupted!  Suddenly, the problem was no longer with the NAVY, it was
with being interrupted, again.  And again...I turned to the waitress, my
patience having long since expired.

"Wrong? Yeah, there's plenty wrong.  Where would you like me to fucking
start?" I asked incredulously.

At first, she appeared shocked, but this look was quickly replaced by a
scowl as she put her hands on her hips.  I could see a sudden realization
coloring her previously enthusiastic smile with a darker and more sullen
one.  Up until now, she had been contemplating a generous tip, but despite
my inebriation, she was beginning to fear for the prospect of her financial
future.

"Is there anything wrong with the food sir?" she clarified, no longer
bothering with feigning a cheerful demeanor.  It was more of an automated
response for unruly customers than a legitimate show of concern, a final
procedure to be followed for liability's sake.

Paul kicked me beneath the table and clenched his jaw, his expression
cautioning me to be silent.

"What? No, I'm not going to keep my mouth shut, I'm tired of keeping it
shut!" I replied through clenched teeth in response to Paul's silent
signal, who then proceeded to bury his shaking head in both hands.

I turned to the waitress, attitude squaring off against a weeks worth of
pent up aggression and frustration.

"Frankly the food was garbage.  I might have been eating cardboard or shoe
leather for all I know because that..." I said poking at the darkened slab
of meat on my plate. "Is hardly an excuse for a medium rare sirloin!"

The waitresses face turned a deep red.  I wasn't finished.

"And honestly, you might want to rethink your calling in life because the
whole ghetto-fabulous 'hands on the hip' and the little 'head-bob' thing
you're doing makes you look like a Jerry Springer guest, not someone in the
business of service.  I'm sure you're not familiar with the term 'service',
but I assure you it entails much more than just ferrying food between the
kitchen to a table, and more than giving people a single glass of beverage
during the course of an entire meal!"

The waitress shifted her stance on her hips, both hands still on them as
she assumed a look of shock and awe that called into question the truth
behind my audacity.

She really needn't have done that...

"Yeah, take a gander at that glass of Dr. Pepper there," I said, pointing
to Paul's drink which had remained empty for the past few minutes.  "You
never thought to refill his drink, but you saw fit to make sure I got
plenty of beer?"

"And seriously, at twenty bucks a plate for this kind of tripe, you would
think that I could at least get a sharp knife to cut the damn shoe leather
your cook seems to think resembles a real steak," I said as I leveled an
accusing finger at her.

"And, that YOU had no business attempting to serve in the first
place...truth be told."

With my points main points made, I prepared to cap my scathing review with
a whole new level of accusations.

"So...would you like to ask me if there's something wrong again...or did
you get all that?"

The waitress's face blushed impossibly red.  Paul was peering through a
slit between his fingers, hiding from the scene I was creating.  Patron's
were silent, food laden forks held suspended in midair, mouths agape, as
they stared wide-eyed at the audacious and rude customer verbally
assaulting this poor, distraught, young, and innocent girl.

Thumping bass sounds of a muffled song from the bar above us filtered down.
The words were as almost eerily poignant.  Bachman-Turner Overdrive's hit
played as if willed by the heavens, and Randy's voice stuttered out: "You
ain't seen nothin' yet..."

Indeed they hadn't.  A man in a crisp white shirt and a dark tie
approached.  He had a rather self-important air about him.  He
seemed...managerial.

"And while I'm at it, since you look like you're about ready to launch into
some kind of indignant virtuoso of attitude, I think your main problem is
that you've been paying more attention to those old, suit-clad, business
types out there at that table than you have anyone else in the restaurant.
As a matter of fact, I was going to go over there and defend your honor
when I noticed that fat one..."

I pointed accusatorially.

"...make a grab at your ass, but then when I realized you were letting him
do it in the hope that he'd probably tip you better for letting him cop a
bit of a feel, I really just gave up all hope..."

I looked at here name-tag.

"...Jennifer, so honestly, it shouldn't surprise you when you leave here at
night and you get that dirty and violated feeling.  I mean honestly, it
didn't appear you were doing much to stop it.  Perhaps if I groped you a
bit you would consider filling up my friend's glass of Dr. Pepper more than
once the whole fucking meal?"

Jennifer exploded.

"Listen here you mother fucker! Just because you..." she shouted as her
manager grabbed her and dragged her back yelling above her voice to go to
the back and remain there.  She was still screaming in the back of the
kitchen.

Paul's face was as white as chalk.  His expression was full of shock,
disapproval, and embarrassment.

The manager approached a few moments later and offered his profuse apology,
seeing that we had barely touched the food he immediately offered to take
care of the bill to avoid any further unpleasantness. I quickly assured him
that it was the least he could do considering the rude tendencies of his
staff.

As we were ushered to the door, he again apologized profusely and
encouraged us to return again and not let this one bad experience color our
perceptions of his restaurant.

Fat chance of that happening, I informed him solemnly as I exited.

Paul and I hurriedly exited the restaurant and got into my truck.  I took
the liberty of getting in the passenger side.  Paul hesitated slightly as I
handed him the keys.

We drove home in silence.

My mind was a tumultuous mixture of hopelessness, anger, and frustration.
The politics of the military were ruining the entire experience.  The
politics behind who made rate, and who didn't, were wrong.  It was wrong
that if you pissed even a single person off, even through something as
simple as doing your job the best way you knew how, you could ruin your
chances of advancement.  My mind conjured up realistic imaginings.

The politics of the patrol had meant that because Hamsey was a
fourteen-year second class, and could not make rate largely because of his
lackluster rating exam scores, he would need to have enough points on his
evaluation to carry him through advancement.  There were limits to the
amount of time one could be at a certain rate.  A new policy that had been
enacted last year meant that Hamsey had less than 6 months to make First
Class.  If it didn't happen now, he'd be out of luck, and out of the NAVY.
The NAM would significantly help him achieve rate.

Sometime Monday morning, as the Chiefs and Officers had gathered in secret
before the rest of us had even awakened, the fates of the peasantry had
been decided.

It had been decided that I, who had stepped on toes, who had put a Chief on
the Deck, who lacked respect for those of a higher pay-grade, but who was
good at my job, no - Chief Gelli had corrected them - was too damn good at
my job, wasn't ready to advance to Second Class, E-5.  I had to learn to
respect those above me and show them the proper deference.  And since there
was only a limited amount of awards to hand out, Hamsey, although lacking
the knowledge about his job required of a First Class, was quite the
brownnoser.  Hamsey played ball.  He was a team player, unlike Aidan Wilde,
who was out to prove a point.

Aidan Wilde was not ready, and would not receive a NAM for his work, and
until he learned some humility, he'd continue to not receive one, for as
long as the Chief's Quarters continued to control his fate.  Even though
the truth was that Hamsey had nothing to do with the events listed on his
award certificate, perception was reality.  Truth was a point of view, and
the only point of view that mattered in the NAVY, was the point of view
shared in that room.

We arrived home in silence as well.

Paul returned my keys to me, and I unlocked the door, still in a foul mood,
but glad to be home.  Paul followed hesitantly, as if he weren't sure he
was supposed to be here.  His look was one of disappointment.  The door
closed behind me.  As I was about to walk into the living room, Paul's
voice halted me.

"Where in the hell did all that come from?"

"Where did what come from?"

"All that hate?  That anger?  What the hell did she ever do to you?"

"Oh, you're worried about that dumb waitress?"

"Yes...Jennifer.  The girl you almost made cry - for no fucking reason!
Other than maybe you're pissed at life..."

I turned around to face him.  His hands were on his hips.  Hell, he even
looked like her right now; indignant and upset.

"No fucking reason?  We're you even there?"

"Yes I WAS there! It was you that went fucking AWOL from reality."

"The meal was fucking terrible, and she was about the damned sorriest
waitress I've ever seen."

"Bullshit!  You didn't even touch the damn food.  And you probably can't
even remember what it tasted like because your mind was so far from it.
Fuck, I'm surprised you even remember I was there with you."

"Yeah, I remember you there, acting all embarrassed and proper, just like
the fucking jackasses across the aile from us.  What, embarrassed to be
around me? Fine, you can feel free to leave in the future whenever you do!"

"You're angry with the NAVY Aidan!  Stop taking it out on everyone else
around you!  Stop taking it out on me!  And especially people that clearly
don't deserve any of it like that poor girl you made feel like shit for no
reason!"

"She had it coming!  The dumb CUNT couldn't even..."

A loud thunder-crack split the air.

Burning pain exploded against my left cheek as I became vaguely aware that
Paul had crossed the distance between us impossibly fast.  I never even saw
his hand.

The force of the blow spun my head around.  My body, completely unprepared
for it, almost ended up on the floor, a sudden wobbliness in my legs
upsetting my precarious balance.

A hand went up to my face and felt heat.  My eyes were wide in shock.  Paul
had slapped me!  And from the look he was giving me, he didn't appear to be
finished.

Paul grabbed the front of my shirt roughly.  I was still too shocked to
resist.  He hissed through clenched teeth, lip's parted in a razor-thin
line.  His eyes squinted as he whispered threateningly.

"Don't you ever...EVER...say that word again."

Paul shoved me backwards.  Again, unprepared, I fell backwards and landed
heavily on butt.  My face flushed with heat.  I was confused, shocked,
emotionally hurt, and growing angrier by the second.

What damn word was he talking about?  How dare he fucking hit me?!

I jumped up, almost staggering again.  Paul had turned around and had
snatched his keys from the basket we had placed by the door to hold them.
I stalked up behind him, barely conscious of my actions.  The sound of his
hand slapping my face still rang in my ears.

Paul spun around, his eyes growing wide.

I felt my hand come up, quickly, but not of my own will.

This wasn't happening to me, or us.  I was suddenly watching my body from
the outside, and everything was in a cartoonish slow motion.  The fist
started to descend.

Time slowed, and the Earth's rotation ground to a halt.  Everything around
us froze as my eyes locked with Paul's.  My thoughts suddenly crystallized
as I caught sight of his face, and his expression registered in my mind,
piercing the gloom of an alcohol induced fog.

That's when I saw it.  I saw back into time - into Paul's time - back to
that exact moment.  The day that I had not witnessed, but was now repeating
in an ironic tragedy.  Was this what Déjà vu felt like?  I was looking back
in time at the one act that had shattered Paul's innocence, and plunged him
into darkness so long ago.

This is what it felt like to be Paul Richards at thirteen:

Staring out of that darkness was the image of an innocent and beautiful
thirteen year old boy.  The boy had made a child's mistake of giving his
heart to the first love of his young and care-free life.  He had made the
mistake of giving everything he had to another blindly.  He had taken a
leap of faith.

The small boy had watched in shock as a fist descended towards his face.
He had felt the pain, but it wasn't the physical pain of the blow that had
threatened his very existence.  It wasn't even the cruel names he had been
called: Faggot, Queer, Homo.  It wasn't his playmate denying what they had
done together when no one else was looking.  And it wasn't even the threat
of exposure the boy threatened as he sought to deny his own complicity in
their mutual pleasure.

It had been the pain of his heart breaking that had harmed him so.

That powerful moment was the defining event that had scarred Paul's young
soul.  His heart had crashed to the floor and shattered at another's feet.
He had only offered his unconditional love, but it had been violently
refused and struck down by the object of his affection - whom Paul had
naively thought would return it.  Those tiny eyes had looked out at the
world in a heart-wrenching mixture of pain, bitter resignation, fear, love,
and hopelessness.

This was what it felt like to be Aidan Wilde:

As my eyes saw into Paul's heart, deep down into his past, this picture of
a young and frail boy, sitting in the dirt and crying his heart out in
agony became more than just a memory.  It had been pushed down deep inside,
forgotten, until now.  Now I knew this to be truth as if I had lived these
events myself.

In a cruel twist of fate, I was now repeating them.

Paul's eyes closed, slowly - so very slowly.  A single tear fell from the
corner of his eye, rolling down his flushed cheek.

That was the moment my blood turned to ice in my veins.  The pain contained
within that single tear was too great to bear.  I had never felt such
pain. My hand froze in mid-air.  I glanced at it now, turning to it,
realizing finally what I had been about to do.

Nothing moved.

Paul, slowly, opened his eyes, almost flinching as he looked up at me.  He
slowly let out the breath he had been holding in anticipation of being
struck.  He sniffled softly.

I never knew such agony was even possible. I had been a hair's breadth from
doing something so terrible that I couldn't even begin to contemplate it.
In my blind anger, I had almost done the unthinkable.

"Oh god...Paul...I'm...I'm sorry..."

I muttered the words weakly as my hand dropped at my side, numb and
lifeless.  I felt so utterly rotten and horrible at that moment that I
would have welcomed death.

Paul's eyes stared back into mine.  After a moment, he dropped his gaze and
looked down at the floor.  Slowly, sliding to the left against the door, he
reached back and turned the door knob, slowly opening it behind him.

Paul turned his back to me and stepped forwards, heading outside, the keys
to his Jetta still clutched tightly in his trembling hand.  He glanced
once, back over his shoulder, our eyes met briefly.

Paul walked out of my life as the door shut softly behind him.

I collapsed to the floor.  My entire world began crumbling beneath me.

A horrible and haunting wail of utter despair greeted my ears, becoming the
only sound in my world.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I briefly
wondered what kind of tortured and agonized creature could make such a cry.

I realized the sound was coming from me.





Continued in "Love Runs Deep" - Chapter 5, Part 2: Alex beneath the
Moonlight --------------------------------------- (Check below the Author's
Notes for the Post Script and Special Announcement)




Author's Notes:

(1): JO's - Junior Officers - Refers mainly to Ensigns (Butter Bar's) and
Lieutenant Junior Grades in the Navy.  Junior Officers are usually also
fresh out of college or the Military Academy at Annapolis and are often as
inexperienced and "cherry" as any enlisted NUB.  However, they are officers
and still technically outrank any Enlisted personnel however senior they
may be.  Smart JO's differ to the wisdom of senior enlisted personnel, the
dumb ones, don't.

(2): Nuke's - a Non deplume short for Nuclear trained personnel.  Nukes,
refers to the training of personnel on submarines that are of the
Engineering department and work with the Boat's power-plant or its
associated systems.  Nuke's are primarily 3 rates: Electrician's Mate,
Electronics Technician, and Machinist Mates.  There are non-nuclear trained
personnel, and nuclear trained personnel of these ratings.  Any enlisted
crew not nuclear trained, are referred to on subs as "Coner's" All officers
are nuclear trained.

(3): LPO - Acronym for Lead Petty Officer - Normally a First Class who is
most senior in the division and is chosen by the divisional NCO, usually a
chief or above, as "lead" enlisted personnel.  Another echelon in the chain
of command.

(4): MP & EP - Acronyms for "Must Promote" and "Early Promote".  Terms used
to denote the promote-ability of evaluated enlisted personnel in the NAVY.
An Early promote indicates that the individual should be promoted as soon
as physically possible and is already performing the job and duties of the
rank he should be promoted to.  MP is slightly under this, but each carries
different and increasing weights on an evaluation.  EP's who do not make
rank off their test scores (multiplier) are considered first for "special"
Promotion by the Captain which can only occur twice a year by regulations.

(5): "Dick-skinners" - Submarine slang word that denotes a persons hands.
It is derived from the idea that one "skin's their dick" or masturbates
with one's hands, ergo someone's "dick skinners".  Who knows why people say
this...isn't saying 'hands' easier? Who knows...

(6): Battle-short - Technical Term - Refers to emergency repairs of
electrical equipment that happens immediately and without taking all the
necessary safety precautions, including securing electrical power.
Battle-shorting a live and energized piece of gear can only be done on the
Captain's direct orders as it violates established safety procedures.
Something like this would only need to be done in a time of crisis or need
like during combat, hence the "Battle" part.

Post Script:

Right about now, you folks that have been with me since the beginning are
probably ready to tear my head off for structuring this chapter the way I
did, and breaking it into two parts.  I have to ask myself honestly, "Why
did I?"  The only reason I could come up with, is because it was logical to
do so.  I was going to include a other scenes that would resolve this one,
but I realized I wanted it to end like this to make a point.  Life is full
of down moments, tragedy, and heart-ache, and so is this story.  We laughed
and cried, through good times and bad.  This was reality.  Some of you have
figured that out about this story already.  Hopefully, this drives that
idea home.

So, I apologize for leaving you folks with a cliffhanger and on a down
note, but I think you'll agree with me when I say, it makes the total story
that much more powerful and meaningful.  Part two of this Chapter will be
out soon.

Chapter 6 is going to be a doozy.  I hope you are all prepared.

Again, I'm glad you are reading this and hope you continue to do so.  With
all the love I can muster,

Aidan W.