Date: Sun, 17 Dec 2023 05:19:20 +0000 From: Griz Subject: Seduced By The Sea Chapter One "Seduced By The Sea" By Griz umgriz@protonmail.com *** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further. All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html *** *********************************************************** I "Sir, here." I took my hand away from my eyes and looked up to find the voice that was getting right in the middle of my relaxation. Whoever this punk was, at least his aim was good; his head blocked the Sun of my face. He was holding his hand down to me with something in it. I'd been lying on my back on the steel beach, which is what we call the flight deck of the Nimitz when we're out on a cruise and not in the middle of an operation or flight training, or cleaning. I staked my claim to an area far on the port side of the aircraft carrier. That's where the breeze was strongest, and the sound of the waves (if there were any) most noticeable. The voice and the body it belonged to came quite a ways just to annoy me, so I would make sure his trip was worth it. "What is that, and who are you?" "Ensign Thomas Donaldson, Sir." He moved whatever was in his right hand over to his left and snapped a decent salute. I saluted back, though not standing for it. I'm not on duty. I'm just lying here, minding my own business and synthesizing some vitamin D, for fuck's sake. "Captain, this is sunscreen with a lot of zinc in it. You're, umm, getting a little pink, Sir." "Did I send for you, or did someone order you to come over here, to interrupt what had been a decent afternoon?" "No, Sir." "Then.....?" "Sorry to have bothered you, Sir. I'll go." "You're not dismissed, Ensign." I sat up and looked at him, but the contrast was still too much. Couldn't see his face; only that he was in a pair of issue navy blue running shorts. I reached for the tube and looked at it. SPF 100,000 or so. I looked at my chest and abs, but couldn't really see any color behind these sunglasses. The Sun was right above, so pretty close to Noon. Not the right time to be out here, but my plan wasn't to stay long, anyway. "Statistics for skin cancer among people of Central European heritage are higher than for almost anyone else. Um, Captain." "You been reading my file, Ensign? Did I tell you where my genes are from?" "No, Sir. You're really pale, and your surname is likely Polish or German." This kid isn't shy. Not everyone on this ship would tell a Navy SEAL Captain he's 'really pale'. I didn't agree with his assessment, but I couldn't challenge his assumption. "Permission to be blunt, Sir?" "More than you have been already? This oughtta be good. A little advice, though: be careful." "Yes, Sir. That's what I was going to say to you, Captain. `Be careful'. If I can see you're pink from 50 meters away, then you've been out too long without any protection from UV rays. You need to put that stuff on right now if you're staying out here, but you should get inside, shower under cool or cold water, and cover yourself with lotion or coconut oil or something. Right away." "Well, that was blunt, Ensign. I said `be careful'. You just gave a senior officer four commands. Did you fall and hit your head this morning or something, Ensign Thomas Donaldson?" "Well, Sir, if I did, that damage was done, and so was this. I apologize. I'm not suggesting you are being negligent or not very bright or anything else that would be a reason for you being out here getting sunburned. The Sea seduces all sailors, Sir. Wind and waves have lulled many of us to our doom, even if it's only an early-stage sunburn that leads to carcinoma melanoma. Um, Sir. If you want, I can get some of that stuff on your back. That is, if you're going to actually stay out here longer." "I'm so glad for both of us you weren't asserting that I'm not very bright, Ensign. Your concern for an officer in this man's Navy is not without merit. Your choice of words, though.....you're either incredibly brave or you snuck aboard this ship lacking even the least amount of common sense that even officers in the Army have, which is not much. I can fast-track a transfer over to them in the middle of Texas, if you think we're too strict on respect and decorum." "No, Sir! Anywhere, anything but Texas! I joined the United States Navy to get out of Eastern Montana, Sir! Texas would not be any improvement at all over that, and would be way worse than whatever hell you're going to put me through now, Sir." I stood while he was talking. I estimated this annoying human horsefly was at best five and a half feet tall. I'm 6'5", and whenever given the opportunity, I make sure everyone knows that. I stepped to within two inches of his face, which came just to between my pecs. I flexed them since he would not be looking me in the eyes. I removed the shades anyway. "Donaldson, listen carefully to me. I will say this only once, which is way more than any other officer on this ship would give you. Unless there is an emergency of some kind, don't ever approach an officer. And if you do, state your concern and await instructions. If you receive none, salute, move back and resume your business. What you DON'T do, Ensign Thomas Donaldson of Eastern Montana, is give orders to anyone outranking you, emergency or not. Not one order, and certainly not four. Am I making myself clear?" "Crystal, Sir." "Ah. So there is some brain activity in there. The fall this morning does not seem to have done complete damage, after all. Now. Before you go, is there anything else you feel is of earth-shattering importance?" "No, Sir. Well, there is. Now that you're up, do you want help with the sunscreen?" "I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP WITH ANYTHING! GO!" He actually jumped just a little and threw up his hand in a fast salute. Perhaps looking to see if my face would announce his immediate decapitation, he looked at my face with the most scared-bunny expression possible. That's the look I want to see on our enemies----not on an ensign. But I wasn't going to tell him that. I stared at him without blinking, and he stared back. I saw his widened eyes in all their golden-brown glory staring into my own green. He didn't blink, either. His head listed to starboard just a little while his eyebrows knotted together. "You were going, Ensign?!" He saluted a second time while turning to walk quickly away, back to wherever he'd feel a lot safer than near me. This is how it works. We remind them the same thing we were drilled: rank, rank, rank. If you don't have it, don't assume for one second you can be familiar with those who do. What we also do: listen to everything said to us. There can be wisdom and guidance from anyone, anywhere. Our job as officers is to interpret and acknowledge; and not to send `thank you' cards when someone steps on his dick to command an outranking officer to get out of the Sun or slather on some sunscreen. Or both. Truth: I could see now I was getting pink, and that would turn red by the watch change. I had at least the evening and night to myself, up where the floor is tiled and not painted. Rank, rank, rank. I bent to grab my towel and walked back toward the ladder that would take me to the showers. I was starting to smell like I'd stayed out too long, as well. Once in my cabin, I grabbed a clean towel and some detailing stuff. The narrow passageway leading to the showers officers can use had a `wet floor' warning just ahead of me. I got closer and saw three men in blue working to resolve some issue that caused water to flow from the wall onto the floor. One of them saw me about to enter, and snapped to attention. The others did the same. "As you were, Sailors. What's going on here?" "A pipe burst, Sir. From the water main for this floor. I'm sorry, Captain; all the showers have been shut off until we get this repaired. Probably another hour or two, Sir." "Not your fault. Thank you for repairing the problem. Who's your C.O.?" "Lieutenant Kramer, Sir." "Do you need more hands on this?" "No, Sir; but thank you." "Very well. Carry on, Sailors." I'll give the recruiters their due: the recent men enlisting were not difficult to look at, and other than Ensign Donaldson, seemed to know how to conduct themselves. Facility conditions regardless, I wanted to get cleaned up and get some lotion on my skin. Back down belowdecks to the G.I. showers. Assuming the water there wasn't turned off for all the heads, I'd take care of this and go get a Coke or something afterward. I hadn't been down below to the head or showers there, but another sailor got me pointed in the right direction, even offering to take me there personally. What is it with people on this ship thinking I can't get through a day by my own wits? I found the shower room. There was some activity, but not much. Relative peace and quiet, something deprived me up on the steel beach. I walked toward the bank of showers flanking those on the opposite bulkhead. Looked like one other guy in the room, and he was busy scrubbing his head. It's interesting to see what tattoos some of these boys bring aboard with them. This one had a teddy bear of his ass. Now what could possibly compel a warrior to get something soft and fuzzy for a tattoo? Geez. `Kids these days'. `Cool or cold', he'd said. That sounded reasonable, and my skin was beginning to feel warm. I doubted hot water would've been too pleasant. Temperature, I could regulate; pressure, not even a little. It was going to come out like needles, regardless of how gentle I'd have preferred at that moment. Once as `right' as I could get everything, I peeled off my shorts and jock, and hung them on the hook with my towel. I parked the shampoo and soap on the little shelf, leaving the lotion on a sink. Stepping under the water and making a final temperature adjustment, I rinsed off from head to toe, and turned the water off. Lathered up and shampooed, I started the water again, sending the Ivory Soap suds cascading down my stomach and legs. I faced my ass to the spray, spreading it apart to get all the soap out of the fur. I looked out at the showers across the room. Would this afternoon never end? Looking back at me was my nosey nemesis from up top. Once again he had a surprised and slightly nervous look on his face. His actions sped up, and from what I could tell, not all the shampoo was out of his hair when he turned his water off and stepped away. I was done and turned mine off, as well. "Well, Donaldson. We meet again. My lucky day continues." "Yes, Sir. I guess it does. I'll be out of here fast, Sir." "Why? Is it your customary procedure to stop showering before you get all the shampoo off your empty skull?" "What?! Oh, no, Sir; it's not. Thank you." "Oh, it's the least I could do, Ensign; considering all your cautious care for me only minutes ago." My sarcasm can fairly drip when I want it to, and this was one of those days. He turned the water on and ducked under again, making sure all soap and shampoo was gone now. The water off, he toweled off as I'd just finished doing. We stood in the space between the shower bulkheads and dried our hair. A grooming benefit of being in the military: it takes less time to dry your head than your balls. I reached for the bottle of lotion and held it up for him to see. Ensign Donaldson smiled just barely, but he averted his eyes before they could convey, "I told you so". He had his lotion, too. Although his Mediterranean skin isn't as visibly sunburned as mine was, it looked like he might've been out too long, as well. We managed to get the front part of our bodies done. He finished up about the same time I did, which afforded me an opportunity to look this kid over. He was compact vertically, but from side to side, he wide at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. I didn't see any other tattoos, and I think it'd be fair to say I had looked at almost all of him. "Ensign. I understand your concern for me earlier, and it's not unappreciated. I find sunburns uncomfortable, to say the least." "Ah. Thanks, Captain. Thanks for not handing my ass to me, Sir. Well, I mean, not all of it." "If you do more stuff like that, I believe you'll have plenty of opportunity for it to happen again and again. Trust this: it'll be considerably worse from any other four-striper on this ship. Honorable intentions regardless, the sooner you learn to navigate unequal communications, the further you'll go." "Yes, Sir. I'm finding that to be true." He smiled and laughed, and that was it for my steely resolve. I chuckled as well. "Donaldson, is your application offer standing?" "Sir?" "Lotion, Ensign." "Oh! Yes, of course, Captain. Your back, Sir?" "Yes. I think I got everything else on my own." He walked toward me, and I'll give him this: with ice broken, he wasn't hesitant any longer. He proved his point, I proved mine, and now that we were both right, I still couldn't reach my back. I turned away from him and handed him the bottle of coconut oil lotion. He squirted some into his palm and got his hands covered. "You must not have laid on your front, Sir; you're not pink back here. Well, except for up by your neck." He slowly spread my shoulders and back with the lotion, replenishing a couple of times. He was thorough. I could feel the before-and-after difference between areas. As he worked lower, he slowed his motions slightly. Finally, he was just above my hips. "Um, Sir.....were you able to.....well, reach below where I am now?" "Yeah, I did. Thanks." "My pleasure, Sir. Oh, I don't mean it was pleasurable; I just meant, I'm happy to help." "I knew what you meant. Okay, your turn." "Sir?" "Turn around, Ensign. It's your turn for lotion on your back." "Really, Captain? Oh, wow.....you don't have to, Sir." "Oh? Your arms are extra long and double-jointed?" "No, I mean, please don't bother with me, Sir." "I would not have offered if I thought it would be a bother. Hand me your lotion and be silent for once today." He looked me in they eyes again and handed me the bottle. He smiled again, but I stayed my more usual stoic self. "Thanks, Captain." "I said silent!" His back was turned to me, so he couldn't see me smiling this time. I got his lotion in my hands and began applying it to the back of his neck, slowly and deliberately, with some definite pressure. Not a lot; just to let him know it wasn't one of those five feet tall women in strip mall massage parlors doing the work here. I moved down from his neck and spread my hands out across his shoulders. Donaldson was strong and defined. Nothing soft about this kid. The rest of his back was the same: solid, with all the muscle groups individually visible. He leaned back against my hands, presumably so he would not be knocked forward by my strength. When I got to the lower end of the rhomboids, he sighed and barely whispered, "fuck, yeah.....right there.....oh, god....." I leaned forward and down, my mouth right at his ear. I didn't whisper, but I didn't shout, either. "Problem, Donaldson?" "Oh, god, no, Sir. No problem.....at all....." I didn't respond to that, but continued getting more lotion on his skin. He clearly was not hating this, and I was not hating it even more. It'd been a long time since I'd touched anyone, even just like this. I was not going to rush any of it, but I wasn't going to play any cards, either. Once I got to just above his hips, right where the glutes begin, I stopped. I left my hands where they were, but no more lotion application. "Ensign, were you able to reach below here?" "Oh.....um, yes, Captain." "Hmmm.....okay, if you say so." I removed my hands, letting my fingers linger only slightly. I don't think I was being obvious to a kid from Eastern Montana. The people I knew there were by no means ignorant, but I doubt they'd know what was really going on my mind. I hoped this kid wouldn't, anyway. Donaldson turned to face me. His face was bright red. He had his hands in front, trying in vain to cover himself. Oh.....so THAT happened, did it? Heh.....it'll be our little---or not little---secret. "Ensign, how old are you?" "I'm 22, Sir. Graduated in January, Sir." "Studying what?" "Pre-Med, Sir." "Ah. And what is your academic goal?" "Nurse Practitioner, Sir. And then return to the Navy for my career here." "Interesting. Well, go ahead; I can see you want to." "Oh! Thanks, Sir. Okay, how.....?" "32. Undergrad at University of Montana, Masters at Columbia, SEAL Graduate at US Naval Academy, Anapolis." "Sir! Goddamn! What did you study at Montana and Columbia?" "Political Science and Law." "And you chose to become a SEAL, Sir?" "I was chosen." "My gosh.....this is an honor to know you, Sir. And you went to Montana, too." "I was born and raised in Montana, Ensign. Western side of the state." Wow.....to think we're talking college, Montana, law and medicine. Only an hour ago, I was on my way to being shark bait." "No sharks in these waters, but I'm sure something would've made a decent meal out of you." I smirked at him, my eyes on his the entire time. I stepped back, turned and reached for my shorts, pulling them on. "Pre-Med and Nursing.....so you're already taking your vocation seriously, evangelizing the Good News About Sunscreen." "Well, yes, Sir. But to be candid, I'd have approached anyone up there if I saw they were on their way to Lobster Town, Sir. I think I'm glad now the admiral was not aboard, though." "And just when I thought I was special. Well, damn. Seriously, your intentions were just fine. I meant what I said, though: be very careful who you approach, and how you express your concerns, Donaldson. Careers have been ended for less, right or wrong." "I'm glad it didn't go that way today, Captain. Although if it had, I'd have still gotten my second degree, and still would've become a pain in the ass about skin cancer. I'm sure you have people back home who would not want to you lose you to the most preventable of all cancers, Sir." "Aaaaand you're still talking about it. Give it a rest, for fuck's sake; I heard you. I showered, and in cold water, and got lotion on." "Oh! So you did, Sir! May I ask, though; why down here? I've seen your showers." "Water main or some such problem. I didn't want to wait. Do you know what melanoma looks like?" "I do, Sir." "See any? I realize it's not an official diagnosis, but I'll admit I don't look too closely at anything below my head." "Oh. Well, give me a couple of moments. If you don't mind, I'll just circle around you, Sir." "Fine. Proceed when you're ready, Ensign." He looked from beneath my chin to all the way down my chest and stomach, up my sides and my back from shorts to my neck. Then he was back in front of me, and touched my right hand with his left. He didn't ask; he just lifted my arm up, and stepped closely to look around my armpit and anterior side of my arm. He returned my arm down and did the same thing with my left arm. He stepped back and looked me straight in the eyes. "Sir, since we're clear this isn't an official diagnosis, I'll say that I found no presence of anything that was darker in pigmentation, or irregularly shaped. Please don't hesitate to get a nurse or doctor to give you an official exam though, Captain." "I take seriously the concerns of any form of cancer. I'll schedule something when I'm back Stateside. Thank you for being thorough." "This time it is my pleasure, Captain. Sir, um, permission to be excused? The watch will change soon, and I need to get up to the sick bay." "Of course. Permission granted. Thank you for the lotion application and the not-official exam, Ensign." "I'm happy to help, Sir. Thank you for getting some lotion on my carcass, too." Donaldson grabbed his stuff in his left hand and saluted me with his right. I gave him a right proper salute in return. He smiled and turned to leave the room. After he left, I smiled and shook my head. A future career in Medicine. Well, good for him. Good for us. II I was back in my cabin, searching through Spotify for a playlist that would be right for some email reading and writing. Miss Fitzgerald, you get the honors this afternoon and evening. I fired off a complimentary message to Lieutenant Kramer about the men working in the officers' showers today. When something goes wrong, plumbing is a thankless job anywhere on the planet. Out at sea, where you can't run down to the hardware store for parts? More of a challenge. After emails to my parents and my brothers, I pulled off my shorts and jock. There was a top bunk in my quarters, but thus far, I had all 100 square feet to myself. The only detail I would've wished for here was a porthole. Donaldson was right when he said the Sea seduces sailors. I was at home in wind and waves, but most of my work was not at sea. I was aboard this ship for other reasons, which will remain undisclosed at this time. Until we reached Bremerton, Washington, I would enjoy time up top for submission to my seduction. Tasks completed, I relaxed for a moment, then remembered I had wanted a Coke. Having enough stripes to do so, I could've called for someone to bring me one. That would deny me the pleasure of going up to the officers' lounge and getting it myself. I wanted lime and ice to go with the Coke, and maybe get in a game of Backgammon or Cribbage. Getting into the right uniform, I checked my face and hair and left my quarters, leaving Sarah to greet me on my return. I climbed three ladders to get up to the lounge. My luck had not run out today: the ship's captain was just walking in, too. We saluted and greeted each other. Jack Starling had commanded the Nimitz for seven years. He and the ship saw action more than once. He brought almost everyone through alive. Two pilots and two planes were fatal casualties. Captain Starling was definitely on track for admiralty, whether he knew it or not. "Captain Weiss. Have you settled in comfortably?" "Captain Starling. I have, thank you. This ship is legendary. I'm glad to be aboard." "You're welcome here, and all the way back to port. I regret not being able to meet you when you came aboard. The admiral will have his phone conversations when he wants them." "Not a problem. I knew we'd meet up eventually. Are you off watch?" "I am. I was going to kick back with a little Rye this evening. What will you have?" "Oh.....Rye, really? Yeah, please. I was going to go for a Coke, but that can wait until breakfast." Captain Starling laughed and walked behind the bar himself, reaching for two shiny glasses and the bottle of a favorite of mine, Woodinville Distilleries Rye. "Ice?" "No, thanks." "Ah. Me, too. Ice dilutes the flavor and suppresses the aroma. Want to relax over in the corner?" I agreed and walked toward the dark blue, overstuffed lounge chairs that looked straight out of an Edwardian Era London men's club. We sat and, quite literally, sank into the soft cushions. "I received word this afternoon that you were out on deck for the steel beach party. Looks like you got some Sun, too." "Oh, yeah. That was pointed out to me, most earnestly and passionately." "Oh?" "A one Ensign Thomas Donaldson. He seems to have learned something in his Pre-Med studies, and wanted to make sure I knew he paid attention. It was no problem; I didn't tell him, but I actually appreciated that someone was looking out for me. I'd have fallen asleep and awakened to fried skin." "He's one of our medics. New with us; right out of college. A little enthusiastic, from what Mac tells me. He's new, too; but a good commander. Our sick bay and surgery are well-staffed. Anything you need?" "No, not that I can think of. The quarters are fine. Food's great; talented galley on this ship." "Thanks; I'll pass that on. So, my briefing didn't really say much about why you're aboard all the way back to port. I'd think you'd prefer to fly." "Maybe typically, but I'd heard you'd occasionally pick up a friendly hitchhiker, and being at sea is better than being on a plane." "Well, if you want to go up while you're with us, you're welcome. I have some hotshots who'd like to show off." "Thanks, Jack. I know that's something I'd like to do. Do I coordinate that with you?" "Not necessary; I'll post you as ride-along, so you can pretty much take off when you want. Not at night, though. Unless you're a pilot in addition to everything else!" "No, not me. I don't think I'd want to go at night, anyway. Thanks for the drink, but I think I'd better get downstairs and settle in before mess. What's the uniform for the night?" "What you have on. Don't be a stranger up here. It'll be busier later on." "Thanks, Jack." I saluted him, and he stood to do the same. I left my empty glass on the bar and made my way back to my quarters. Neutral first impression. Didn't like him, didn't hate him. His management reputation spoke for itself, in the day-to-day stuff. Back downstairs, I sent an email to Captain Mac Cyprian. I mentioned my encounter with Ensign Donaldson earlier, but didn't go into detail about any of it. Just general acknowledgment of his enthusiasm for Navy Life and career goals. No point in pointing out everything; I'd already addressed it, and I believe Donaldson took it onboard. The rest of the evening went well, with little excitement. Dinner was excellent. A choice of seafood-stuffed pasta shells in a sherry white sauce or a Chef Salad. I opted for the salad, and asked that ham and bacon bits be omitted from mine. That was not a problem, as I knew it would not be. I found some Backgammon rookie to thoroughly embarrass in the officers' lounge twice, and returned to my quarters with a smirk on my face. Not so much that he lost badly, but that he was so fuckin' handsome while doing it. Masculine, tall, muscular, dark features, but with blond hair. He told me he was half-Irish, half-Cherokee. What a perfect combination, at least on him. There was nothing wrong with Rondo Standing Bear, that's for certain. I washed up and crawled in bed, naked as always and fell asleep easily, despite the mild sunburn. My mission was not to enjoy eye candy, but it was easy to multitask that with what I was there to do. Now I just needed to figure out how to run into Ensign Donaldson again...... III I awoke on my own, although too early. I'd sleep in, someday. Not today. I got up, stretched, brushed my teeth and got on some running gear. I could've gone to the officers' gym, but remember the part about wind and waves? Can't enjoy those in a gym, even if there was a chance I'd see Rondo Standing Bear again. Up top, I did some more stretches and calculated how many laps on the flight deck would get me five kilometers. Before going out, I checked in with the Air Boss to get clearance for running. He just laughed and told me I would not be alone long. 15 minutes later with the Sun just breaking over the Eastern horizon, ten men of many ranks joined me, and minutes later, there were more. Of course a mild, leg-stretching run had to become a sprints challenge, and of course, I think I'm `all that', so I had to agree. Not just a silly 25 meters; oh, no. Should've kept my mouth shut. The full length of the flight deck. If you don't know: that's the length of a football gridiron. That's what I agreed to. Four silly rabbits lined up next to me, and someone shouted, "GO!" Off we took. I was glad for my extra stretching; my long legs carried me far and fast, and when I finished the length, I looked back to see the other four were nowhere near me. Of course I had to throw my arms in the air and bounce around like I was Rocky. As the very fake applause and cheers ended, I saw that one of my competitors was none other than Donaldson. He stood up from bending over, his hands on his hips, laughing and coughing. I walked over to him and parked one of my hands on his shoulder. "And that's another thing: always let the SEAL win. Someone must've already told you that....." We both laughed. "I did NOT let you win, Sir! When I saw it was you on the line, I had every intention of making you forget my smart-assed mouth by showing my fleeting shoes in front of you!" "Yeah, well, can't fault you for making me work for my victory. We should do that some more; I haven't really run in over a week. Don't want to get soft." "Not a problem you'll face anytime soon, Sir....." I'll be danged if Donaldson wasn't looking me up and down when he said that. Hmmm..... At that moment, I'd have very much liked to pick him up, throw him over my shoulder and cart him back to my quarters. I just wanted to hold him down on my bunk, stare him in the eye and ask him what he meant by that comment. Not that I would've cared too much about his answer; he wouldn't have been getting back up anytime soon. Since that little fantasy was not going to happen today, I smiled and commented on his own fitness. I asked him if he played sports in school. He looked down for a moment, smiling; then looked up. "Yes, Sir. High school and college, and.....well for another team." "Oh? More, Ensign." "Well, I'm not big enough for a major sport, but I did compete all eight years in high school and college gymnastics. I was best at Rings, but my floor routine was good enough to get me on the Olympic team, Sir." "You're an Olympian? That's talent and discipline only a very small number of athletes can dream of, let alone realize." "Thanks, Captain. I enjoy it a lot. I pretty much live in the gym onboard, when I'm not on watch. I miss a big floor, though; and no rings here. I'll get back to that when we're in port, even if I have to take the ferry back and forth to a gym in Seattle." "Eight years in, and you're still young enough to do this for several years to come. You're built just like a man should be, Ensign. Strong, fast and limber. Nothing can stop a man who has those." This time I scanned him from head to toe, and I wasn't quick about it. This stud fuck was beautiful, and knowing what he did to get there, I appreciated everything about him even more. He caught me looking, or I think he did. He smiled and turned red again. "You have something to say, Ensign? You had no problem yesterday." "Heh! Well, Sir; I was just thinking that I liked what you said, about how I'm built. To be candid and hoping I'm not out of line and about to be pitched overboard, I think you're exactly how a man should be built. Or at least this man. I'd like to see your free weights routine. Even train with you, although that's not going to happen on this ship." "I don't think you have access to our gym unless you're a lieutenant, at least. I think I can train in your NCO gym, though. Does it get pretty busy in there?" "Yeah, at certain times. Typically after breakfast, for those of us on Second Watch. Some guys go down after their watch is over, but I'm ready to sleep when I'm finished in the surgery. Right now, Captain Cyprian has me doing lab work and any phlebotomy. It's easy, but I get tired after ten hours of it. You'd be easy work, getting a needle in your veins; your vascularity is incredible. If I may ask, what's your body fat percentage, Sir?" "You may. Last I checked, it was seven percent. I don't want lower than that. It's not healthy for me. I never know if I'll have to be somewhere without food for a few days. That fat will have to feed me until I can get around to eating." "When I was rubbing lotion on you earlier, I was moving my hands over the exact kind of back I want. I know genetics have a lot to do with all this, but I can still work with what I have and get further than I am. The problem for me is, if I'm not competing, I get complacent. I need to keep my head in the game, even if there aren't mats or rings within thousands of miles of me." "Okay, here's what we're gonna do, Donaldson. Tomorrow before your watch, and before you go work out, meet me at the ladder to the officers' deck. I'll take you to my quarters and we'll go over what you lift now, what your routine is, and where you'd like to be. I think I know what'll get you further ahead." "Sir! Wow! No way! Thank you! I won't say `no' to that!" I put my hand on Donaldson's shoulder and leaned in closer to his ear. "Sad will be the day when you say `no' to me, Ensign Thomas Donaldson of Eastern Montana. Don't start now." I leaned back and smirked slightly and winked at him. He smiled broadly, with both his mouth of perfect teeth and his bright, golden eyes, too. I had an opportunity, with nothing else really (or publicly) to do aboard the Nimitz, to train with the hottest fucker in the ranks. Little did he know: he'd be getting the training only Navy SEALs get. By the time we got back to the Pacific, Thomas Donaldson would be at least 20 pounds heavier in muscle, and five fewer in fat. He's perfect as he is, at least for my tastes; but if he wants to train, he'll train. IV My day would become my routine; tour this magnificent vessel, work on my book (forgot to say I'm writing one, just for the challenge of it), and otherwise stay out of the way of the men and women who were doing their jobs. I searched for the right PT sergeant to discuss training with Ensign Donaldson, and after reviewing the plan, he agreed. This is not my ship. I don't have a ship. I have a few thousand men and women with me right now who are allowing me to cruise with them. I don't pull rank here for something like wanting to get in a gym with a fireplug musclecub who is, without doubt, the hottest stud fuck I think I've ever seen. Back in my quarters, I checked my emails and walked up for morning mess. Scrambled eggs, potatoes, sourdough toast and coffee. I rarely deviate, unless I'm on land and can get somewhere that makes omelettes. So far, I liked the other officers I'd met, but without orders right now, I'm not really one of them. Given an opportunity to train Ensign Donaldson will distract me in more ways that one. I wandered around for awhile, checking out the gym 90% of the Nimitz sailors have access to. Serviceable, but smaller than those found on newer carriers. 68 was already an old ship, but her heart beat as strong and true as the day she was named and launched. Leaving the gym after a few minutes, I found the PT office. The Marine physical therapist had a stack of files in front of her on the desk. She stood and saluted, which I returned. "Lieutenant. I'm Captain Zach Weiss, US Navy, visiting. Am I interrupting?" "Welcome, Captain. Lieutenant Amy Schwartz, US Marines. Reviewing files of physical injuries, Sir. No interruption; at least not one that is unwelcome." "Fine. Lieutenant, you have a young medic aboard. Ensign Thomas Donaldson. We talked this morning during a flight deck run. I offered, and he'd like to train with me. I want to check with you or whomever necessary for that release." "If I may ask, Sir; train to do what?" "Gain more mass. Did you know he's an active Olympic athlete? Gymnastics." "I did not know that, but I know who we're talking about. Excellent physical specimen. I have nothing in a file relating to an injury. You're just going to work him hard?" "I am. SEAL training. I'm cruising with the ship all the way back to Bremerton. That'll be plenty of time to get him set up on a routine he can maintain on his own after we land." "Oh, sure-----you break him apart, and then the Marines have to put him back together again! I see what you're up to, Captain!" We both laughed, and she gave her approval in terms of Donaldson having no pre-existing physical conditions that she was aware of. With `all systems go', we can proceed with a plan. I changed into gym clothes in my quarters and headed for the officers' gym. While the sprint was good and fun, I didn't get as much casual running as I'd hoped. I'd like to get out on a trail. I'd like to get Donaldson alone on a trail. Fucker is exactly what I've liked, looked for and wanted in other men. At least we'd have 30 more days together, and I was damned sure going to get some time with him every one of them. The rest of my morning was inconsequential. I occupied myself with online work, communication with my boss, my family back home, and streaming an old movie. I glanced at my wrist to see the watch change was ten minutes away. A smile found itself on my lips and lingered there while I did some pushups and planks. Finally it was time to get going. I descended the ladder to the deck where the surgery was located and walked forward, almost half the length of the ship. I arrived and walked through the big double doors and checked in with the ensign at the desk. He stood and saluted. I returned it. "Good Afternoon, Captain Weiss." "Lieutenant. Busy today? No emergency." "We are not busy today, Sir. Business as usual. Is there something we can do for you, though?" "Yes. I need to get a full lab panel for myself. Last one was six months ago. Do I schedule that with you?" "Under normal circumstances, yes, Sir. Right now, there's no wait. Well, maybe five minutes, Captain." "As long as I'm not interfering with work under way. This is not mandatory, and my doctor has not requested it, per se. She just told me to stay on top of the numbers and email her the results." "We're happy to oblige, Sir. If you'll be comfortable for a moment, I'll alert Ensign Donaldson. He'll be performing the procedure with you." I nodded and remained standing. I don't do that just to be imposing, but standing up has that added benefit. I just don't like to sit. Within a minute, both ensigns walked out to the waiting area. Donaldson snapped me a salute, which I returned. He smiled just barely, which I returned even less visibly. But we knew what we were doing. "Captain. Welcome to our surgery. Will you please come this way, Sir?" I nodded and followed, watching that tight, round ass packed into his olive drab scrubs. He looked like he was poured into them. And the added value for me: I could tell he was not wearing underwear. The straps of his jock were pronounced, and I had zero problem with that. We walked down a curtain-lined passageway. Behind them were beds. Very little privacy for recuperation on a ship, and only the ship's four stripes got a private room, if necessary. This blood drawing wasn't enough to warrant Donaldson and me going to the private room, but damn, if given the opportunity.....fuck. He turned and smiled, motioning to a reclining seat. "Please be as comfortable as possible here, Captain. To confirm my information: this will be a full lab panel, plus urine?" "Yes." "Thanks, Sir. I'll scrub and bring equipment and supplies." I thanked him, which earned me another smile. He stepped to the back of the room, opening cupboards and cabinets to retrieve empty vials, the phlebotomy needle, elastic band, everything. I reclined as he sat on a rolling stool beside me. He worked his large hands into impossibly small-looking gloves. "Captain, which arm do you prefer?" "My left." "Okay. You've done this before, but I need to ask procedurally: Are you afraid of needles, the sight of blood or the procedure itself?" "Nope." "Are you allergic to anything?" "Penicillin." "Noted. All right, thanks for that. Moving forward....." Ensign Donaldson wrapped my arm with a bright purple rubber strip, and then tapped on the vein inside my elbow. "Please make a fist, Captain. Okay, wow. Almost no difference between a fist and at rest. I thought that'd be the case. All right, Sir. Incoming....." He looked me in the eye and smiled some radiant teeth there. The fat needle entered the vein, and I'm here to tell you, I felt nothing. He told me I could relax my fist, which I did. Five vials were filled with blood, and then a gauze square placed over the entry site. He held it firmly while extracting the needle. "Please apply pressure for a minute, Sir; and raise your arm. Please." He smiled again, and I could tell he was recalling our conversation yesterday. I laughed and complied, and shook my head just a little. Donaldson labeled the vials and placed them in a small basket. He turned back to me and leaned forward, reaching for my arm for application of a bandaid. His face was mere in chest from me, and I know he caught some of my musk. He closed his eyes momentarily and exhaled. Looking me right in the eye, I could tell what was going through his mind at the moment. He took on an almost feral expression, but was guarded at the same time. Once he had my arm back down on the armrest of the recliner, he held it almost in place while searching on the counter adjacent for a bandaid. The pressure he applied to my forearm was strong, but not forceful. His thumb massaged my arm twice, and with bandaid in hand, he turned back and smiled at me. Same look in his eyes. I stared him down, not blinking. I know what my face can do: express everything, just a little, nothing. I've scared confessions out of enemies with just my maleficent glare. Today, though, I looked at Donaldson with my head tilted just slightly and one eyebrow raised. "Explain yourself", I was commanding. He answered. "Force of habit, Sir. Some men will get the gauze on the site and jump out of the chair to go running. The sight of blood can be a bit much for some guys." "But I told you not for me." "You did, Sir. I don't think my hand could keep you in your place if you wanted to go, though. I don't know if a brick wall would prevent you from getting up outta here, Captain." "Well, I'd rather not find out, Ensign Donaldson of Eastern Montana." I kept my eyes on him. He nodded briefly and turned back to reach far for the specimen cup. "Captain, please fill this." "From here, Ensign?" "Um, Sir? Oh! I get it! Um, no, Sir. Please take it with you into the head behind that door, and just leave it on the shelf in there. I already have it marked with your name." I smirked at him and stood, walking toward the door. Once behind it, I did as requested, washed my hands and returned to the lab bay. "Is there, um, more I can do for you, Captain?" "There is. Another unofficial observation." I sat back in the seat and pointed to my left ear and the area behind it, pressing the skin between my ear and my hairline. "How's that scar looking? Healing well?" I did have a scar. From when I was 17 years old. Donaldson leaned over close just as I moved my body away from him a few inches. He continued to lean, getting unbalanced. That was my goal.....devious fucker, aren't I? His face was so close to my neck I could feel his breath on it. Then he inhaled deeply. I asked silently: `Getting more musk, are you? Take as much as you want, you little stud fuck.' When he finally exhaled, I heard the slightest whimper ever uttered. I smiled with my face turned away from him. He reached up and put his hand on mine and moved my finger away slowly. He kept his hand on mine the entire time he was looking at my `scar'. A few seconds later, after he used his right hand to move over the skin on my neck, he pulled back. The last action was to release my left hand from his. A final, barely perceptible squeeze, and he returned it to the arm rest. "Well, um, Sir; ah.....that scar. It looks like it's healing. If you'd like, I can apply a mild antibacterial emollient, just to be sure. Um, Sir." "Hmmm.....maybe a good idea. Go ahead, Ensign." He smiled and stood up from his rolling stool to find a small, single-use application of who-knows-what-and-I-don't-give-a-fuck. Oh, that ass, clad barely in thin cotton and elastic straps. He turned with what he was looking for. I could see he was confirming the contents on the label, so I stole a glance at his crotch. Yup. Jock or not, that bulge was more pronounced than when I came in here. Fuck, yeah. Sitting back down and opening the tiny packet, I turned my head again to give him access to the very old, very healed, never very serious scar. Donaldson did not put fresh gloves on for this, which I'm sure was against regulation. I won't tell. With the white, oily substance on his finger, he touched my neck a little more firmly this time, and rubbed in a circle. After a few seconds, he alternated his thumb in its place, and slowly began an up and down motion, from the area by the bottom of my ear to right up against the hairline. Ever have anyone touch you there? Kiss you? Lightly lick? The involuntary reaction is on par with a minor orgasm. I felt it, but I didn't betray myself and the pleasure I was feeling from Donaldson's touch. He leaned close again, and I heard him inhale again. A few seconds later, he exhaled. My mind had a question in mind he would never hear, though: `Didja get a good whiff that time, Kid?' This was valuable information..... "Captain, I think I applied it thoroughly. I'm sure it will heal completely now. What else may I help with, Sir?" I looked back at his flushed face. I noticed perspiration on his forehead and forearms. If he had a pussy, his scrubs would've been soaking wet by now. I smirked at the thought. "No, but thank you for offering. Oh, look at that; a Snoopy bandaid. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was camo, but this.....well, aren't I special." "I can replace it, Sir. One of the previous medics had those. I don't want to embarrass you, Sir." "Do I look embarrassed?" "No, Sir!" "Ensign, you have learned fully well by now that if I have an issue with something, I will address it directly. Or have you forgotten that?" "Not at all, Sir!" "Then you may have 100% confidence in your work and in Snoopy. Are we finished here?" "We are, Sir. I will do the lab work myself and have the results to Captain Cyprian by tomorrow this time, Sir. He can review them with you. I do not have clearance without a medical license to interpret and discuss the lab results." "But you know, don't you, what you're looking at....." "Sir, I know exactly what I'm looking at, and what I hope to see soon." Well, well. You forward little fuck, you. V I stood up from the reclining seat and followed him out of the phlebotomy lab. He stopped before exiting into the waiting area. He quickly looked around, trying to be inconspicuous while doing so, and looked up at me. "Permission to speak, Sir?" "Granted." "Well, I just want to say.....the sprint today was fantastic. We don't do that here. PT seems to be drudgery, even out in the fresh air. I could tell by the way the guys were watching you that they---we---are inspired. I think we'd all like to finish this cruise on a high note, and walk ashore fit and happy with our jobs done well. What I mean, Sir, is anytime you want to run up top, or do more sprints, we would like very much to join you. I'm looking forward to working on a new weight training regimen with you. When you were ahead of us, I was looking at you, and what I saw is exactly what I want others to see when I'm in front of them. Well, maybe a foot shorter version, anyway." My face remained unexpressed, but what he said had my heart beating a little faster. These boys want to work harder than they do, and Ensign Donaldson is a colt at the gate, ready to go. I leaned forward and slightly down, but not to be condescending. "Don't tell anyone I told you so, but Ensign Thomas Donaldson of Eastern Montana, you're far and away ahead of anyone else I've seen on this ship, in terms of fitness. It'll be a pleasure to work you so hard, you'll beg me and your parents will beg me to ease up on you." "Sir! Yes, Sir! That's exactly what this sailor wants! No, NEEDS, Captain." "Good. You have passed your chance to get out of this. I already got clearance from the PT sergeant for you to train, United States Navy SEAL-style. Ladder to my deck, tomorrow, ten hundred. Even if you're dead, be on time, or I will kick your ass myself, right into the propellers." "HA! Yes, Sir!" He chuckled into a full laugh, and got a tight smile from me in return. I saluted to let him know we were finished. He saluted back. I walked away, but turned and mentioned one last thing. "I'm going to take your measurements tomorrow, and you're going to take mine. That's the benchmark. From there, we'll both see how you're gaining, and the same for me. We'll measure every other day. Don't wear a lot of stuff you're going to have to take off and put on again. Less is more, Ensign." "Yes, Sir!" Heh. I got back to my quarters, locked the door behind me and nearly tore my uniform off. I was leaking so much precum, I didn't need lube. I wanted to edge myself, to extend the pleasure of the moment. No such luck. My cock was a geyser within 60 seconds, my first release in days. Goddamn, yes. I hoped no one would want to enter my quarters anytime soon; that singular aroma of jizz would assault anyone's nose.