Seduced By The Sea

Seduced By The Sea, Chapter IV

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hi, Men;

How's this Spring---or Autumn, depending on where you are---treating you? It's going well here. Winter brought us decent snowfall, and the rain in March and April were welcome in Fergus County. Cottonwood Creek has crested its banks already, but not flooded. That's just fine with me.

Hmmm.....what am I doing, talking about ground water and snow and rain and creeks in Montana? We're here to discuss men and oceans and seas thousands of miles away from thirsty Black Angus cattle on a nice, fertile farm in the center of the state. What's common between those? Men on the plains and men on the ship who may have kinda fallen for other men. Or men who've fallen and hit their heads, and just act all kinds of goofy as a result. You decide.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for your letters, Sailors. I'm happy to know each and all of you. And remember: if you see a sailor, say thank you'; he's protecting you. If you see a farmer, say thank you'; he's feeding you. If you find one who's both? Say `Marry me'.

Griz

*** 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 ***

Tom and I released each other and both snapped to attention. Tom saluted Captain Standing Bear. I followed. Rondo saluted back, but his eyes never left mine.

"Ensign Donaldson. Your presence is not required. Dress and leave immediately."

"Yes, Captain. Captain Weiss....."

"Immediately, Ensign."

"Yes, Sir."

Tom pulled on his clothes and walked to the hatch, turning to salute us. I returned his salute. Rondo did not, but commanded Tom to keep silent and await instruction. Tom confirmed the message had been received, walked into the gangway and closed the hatch behind him.

Rondo stared me down for a good ten seconds and then closed the distance between us, which in my quarters, wasn't much. I could've expected shouting, even from someone of equal rank, but what I received were quiet, deliberate depth charges in his every word.

"Captain, have you lost your mind?!"

"No, Sir."

"Then tell me what I walked in on? Maybe my eyes deceived me."

"What you walked in on is none of your personal concern. That was between two officers in the privacy of my quarters. Consensual and discreet."

"`DISCREET', Zach, is locking the goddamned door!"

"I have no argument for that, Rondo."

"Do you have an argument for the commander of this ship, because he'll want at least an explanation!"

"I.....have no argument and no explanation that I care to share with you at this time."

"You realize I'm obligated to report this blatant fraternization, right? Article 92: `Relationships between officers or between enlisted personnel fraternization requires an unduly familiar relationship and it must be prejudicial to good order and discipline or service discrediting'. That has you and Donaldson written all over it."

I looked Rondo Standing Bear right in the eye and stepped toward him. I am a SEAL. I face execution if caught by an enemy. I will not be executed by another four-striper, even if he is within his rights---and responsibilities---to bring my failure to perform my service as directed to the attention of the ship's commander. At that moment, I had nothing to lose but a little weight by perspiration. In the long run, though, I had everything to lose. Including Tom.

"I'll dress and we can go."

"You can dress and we will stay. We're gonna talk about this, but I'm not gonna be in here with you naked. Clearly the lock on that hatch can't be trusted, and I can't trust another officer walking in here and NOT draw a conclusion similar to the one I did moments ago."

"I'm not a mouse. Don't play with me before you kill me. Take me in now."

"Fuck, I'm not gonna report you, you lazy idiot. Not this time. If it happens again? Count on it. If you're that careless again, you don't deserve to wear a uniform in the United States Navy."

"Understood. And.....agreed."

I turned to the locker and found my one set of Peanut Butters, pulling them on but not changing from the jock to underwear. Once dressed, I motioned toward the chair for Rondo to sit on. I took my bunk.

"First of all, Zach; none of my reaction has anything to do with you and Donaldson being men. It has only one concern, and that is unequal rank between you two on your second day aboard the ship. To almost anyone else, and certainly above our rank, that would appear predatory. Do you get that?"

"I do."

"Is there anything more I need to say to convince you how serious and grievous an error that was on your part?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need to say? Like maybe, I fell and hit my head, and Donaldson was helping me stand upright again'? Or, It was all his idea, and I was hypnotized by all that hair-covered muscle'?"

"What?! No! Neither! This was all mutual!"

"Yeah, well, it really did look that way to me; I just like making a SEAL squirm a little, if I can."

"You were just fucking with me?!.....you really hate losing at Backgammon, don't you?"

"I've never lost before. No, not entirely fucking with you. Only the last part was not serious. As for losing? Of course I hate it, Zach."

"But not enough to turn me over to Starling?"

"I don't hate anything that much. The investigation into this thing would be long and drawn out, and the morale on this ship would plummet. Everyone likes Donaldson. The rest of us are in the United States Navy. Donaldson IS the United States Navy."

"I just met him."

"And you're already pulling him into your quarters to imitate a Rodin sculpture?"

"Not planned."

"And not surprising. That kid was in full view of everyone else on the flight deck when he swaggered his Empire State Building-like dick and balls up to you to hand you some sunscreen. Biggest balls on the ship on that kid. He could walk across the border from South Korea into North Korea and spank that stupid fuck with the blind barber. Donaldson just walked right up, damn the consequences. Didn't salute you first, didn't ask permission."

"For which I disciplined him yesterday."

"And rewarded him today. Only this time, there were only three of us who witnessed it. Look, the next thirty days are gonna be lonely for nearly everyone on here, and yeah, there are gonna be those who take their chances and their love, wherever they can find it. But they're not a decorated SEAL captain, nor a lieutenant who, if he keeps his big dick and balls swaggering around, is gonna be the chairman of the Joint Chiefs someday. At the very least, he'll be Surgeon General.

You guys have got to be careful. Don't be seen together except in public, at least for awhile. You're training him. That's good, actually. If people see rank enough, they'll accept earned privilege. This can't be news to you."

"It's not news. It was careless of me. You're right to call me out on it. I would've been expected to behave according to my rank if I saw anything similar between two people."

"Right. Well. Maybe if I hadn't been late in getting down here for measurements, this could've been avoided."

"Rondo, it can't be avoided. All it can be is postponed."

"Got it bad, huh? How can you know that already?"

"The same way someone looked at me for the first time awhile back, and in twenty-four hours I was on my way to being a SEAL. No one looked back on that with regret; certainly not me. I don't know what it is about Tom Donaldson. No fuckin' clue, and I'm all about following and understanding clues. I don't want to marry him; I want to know him. Fuck, I don't know what I want, really. But it's not just sex."

"What I walked in on was a lot more than wanting to know someone. Can't fault either of you for your taste, though; if only physically. Is he your personal Lucky Strike print ad from the Forties? `So firm, so round, so fully packed'?"

"Ummm....."

"I love a good anachronism. That one was my own version of a Backgammon win. Never mind."

"So.....you seem okay with......Tom and me. Are you....."

"No, I'm not. But my older brother and my nephew represent your team in my family. We are proud of our Winktes."

"`Wink-das'?"

"Two-Spirits'. Gay folks. It's an honor among many tribes, but in the Cherokee and Lakota and other tribes, having a couple of em in a family? That puts us right up with the Kennedys."

"Oh."

"So, is that you, or were you just wanting some expanded exercise while you're on this cruise?"

"What's a kinda-mostly-gay-but-maybe-a-little-bi-Wintke?"

"Still a Wintke. You're fully in or you're fully out. My brother has a wife and kids, but he's gay. He's expected to keep the tribe going, and he's contributing. My nephew by my sister is still really young; fifteen years old. But he knows. He has been on his quest, and nothing has changed since he got back. He will also have kids."

"So they stop being intimate with men once they have kids?"

"No, nor when they marry. Sexuality is like anything else for a Cherokee, if not all Indians; it's one aspect of our lives. One way to serve the Creator honestly. We are born Cherokee. There is no escaping that, and we don't even try to escape everything else that makes us.....us. You are Winkte. I know."

"How could you know that?"

"Because you never once said since I've been in here it's not what it looks like', or I'm not gay', or anything else just as feeble. You owned your Truth. You are honorable. Lazy with a hatch lock, but you're honorable."

"Yeah, gotta work on that lock thing. So what happens now?"

"Almost time for Mess. The menu looks good today. Let's go, and then we can get in a round of Backgammon."

"I suppose you expect me to lose."

"`No, Mr Bond; I expect you to win'. I learn from losing, not winning. Besides; where's your honor if you throw a game?"

I laughed and stood, smoothing out the blanket on my bunk and returning the clipboard, pen and tape measure to my desk. Before we walked out, I offered my hand to Rondo.

"Thank you. By the way, that was a nice Goldfinger' reference. My grandfather's favorite movies were all James Bond. I learned every line of every one of them by the time I was fifteen. My fantasy was getting him to watch Young Frankenstein' for once."

"How'd you do?"

"We got two minutes into it. When the clock's chimes rang thirteen times, he stood up to get some Manischewitz Concord Grape in the kitchen and never came back."

"Oh, wow.....the one person on the planet who hasn't seen pure, cinematic genius. Well, second in line to Caligula', of course; and third in line behind The Sound Of Music'. So was all the 007 stuff an influence on you to go SEAL?"

"No, I didn't aspire to that. I was kinda `aspired to', so to speak. A higher-up watched me kick the ass of the Krav Maga master who was teaching a class I enrolled in at the Academy."

"Seriously! Who was the higher-up?"

"The Krav Maga master, who was also a captain. He said after class that he never saw me coming for him when he was the one coming for me. We repeated training, one on one, and even tried it in water. Well, HE tried. I took him."

"And you let some first-year lieutenant take you?"

"Captain, I have no idea what he did. I just wound up as you found us. One minute he's a cute puppy in the window, and the next, he's the one hauling me away."

"You'll continue training him, though?"

"I made that commitment to Tom."

"Oh----you're making a `commitment to Tom'....."

"What.....you're something of a fucker, you know that?"

"When you combine County Cork, Emerald Isle, with Sequoyah County, Oklahoma, a `fucker' pretty commonly arrives on the scene."

"I'll learn to listen closely for three knocks on the hatch."

"And I'll listen for moans of ecstasy and abandon before I knock."

"Oh, you didn't hear that today....."

"Only because I knocked too soon. I have timing, but it's not always good timing for entertainment. Come on or we'll be late for baked mac and cheese. And when do I get measured, anyway?"

"After we eat, if you want. If you really want to SEAL train. But Rondo, there's a scared kid somewhere on this ship right now. I need to make sure he didn't jump overboard."

"Can your appetite wait for Mess? We can find Donaldson. Or, `Tom', as you call him."

"Yeah, my appetite can wait."

"But can it wait for baked macaroni and cheese?"

"Isn't that what you meant? Oh. No, that's not what you meant."

"I saw what kind of appetite you had. Probably still do. Come on, I know where we can find out where his bunk is. I bet he's there right now, freaking out."

I nodded and we left my quarters. I pulled the hatch closed and jiggled the handle. Rondo smirked.

"Oh-----so it DOES lock."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, don't get romantic. Save it for your Lucky Winkte Strike."

I smiled genuinely at Rondo, who returned it. So, it was both a hit and a near-miss today with the two men on the Nimitz I knew better than anyone else----taking into account it had been only about a day and a half since setting foot aboard the queen among ships. We walked forward and below until we found someone who could direct us to Lieutenant Donaldson's bunk.

Sure enough, there he was, on his back and his hands clasped behind his head. He didn't see us, but another sailor did.

"CAPTAINS ON DECK!"

Tom and several others were up and at the feet of their bunks, stiff and forward. I don't think Tom realized at that point it was us, nor that we were there for him; but his eyes were vacant, holding none of the joy I saw in them only minutes ago. Rondo spoke loud and clearly.

"First Lieutenant Donaldson. Join us, please."

"Yes, Sir."

Tom turned and walked toward us, his face neutral but professional, obedient but not subservient. I could tell he was seeing the end of his career. He stood half a meter away and, looking between Rondo and myself, saluted smartly.

"When does your watch in the surgery commence?"

"Ninety minutes, Sir."

"Join Captain Weiss and myself."

"Yes, Sir!"

The other sailors in the ward remained at attention. I looked at them, pleased with their respect of authority and command.

"At ease, Sailors. And thank you for serving in the United States Navy."

"Sir!"

We turned and walked, Rondo leading the way and Tom following, and me bringing up the rear. And, yeah, I'll admit: I was looking at a perfect rear, one I was close to holding in my hand when we were interrupted by a since-welcome wake-up call. Rondo Standing Bear was right: had it been anyone else, Tom and I would be walking, but not to get some baked mac and cheese.

We continued walking, saying nothing. Not because Rondo Standing Bear and I wanted to further elicit sweat and tears from Tom, but because the passageways are narrow and we weren't alone in them. Someone is always coming and going, and we weren't announcing to anyone else that we were taking Tom to lunch. Even I didn't know right away, but the ladders we climbed the the color of the floor told me. And then there was the unmistakable aroma of a well-run and creative galley. Nice, Rondo.

There's an area within the Officers' Ward where we can invite lower ranks to join us to eat, but remain away from other three-and-aboves so their conversations aren't compromised. It's a privilege intended to be rare, and seen by very few as a legendary, mystical and far-off land. When we walked in, the acoustics changed immediately, and that was not lost on Tom. There was no mistaking the area for a resort in Puerto Rico, but it also wasn't loud and clanging with activity and machinery and 5,000 sailors who likely missed home and wanted to tell someone else that very fact.

There were maybe thirty officers at the other end of the ward in there with us, none of them paying much more than cursory attention to our presence in the far corner. Every one of us had something we'd been doing, and something we'd go off to do once we'd fueled up. I had no doubt some of them knew Donaldson, and some of them had seen him up top the day before, risking his future by breaking at least a handful of protocols. If they didn't think he was stupid, they had respect for him. He wasn't stupid. He was respectful. He was just an egg; he hadn't hatched yet. But once he did.....damn, what a rooster he would grow to be.

Over about an hour, the three of us talked. An enlisted sailor name April came to our table, brought us ice water and a basket of sourdough bread and butter, and pointed out the two listed options for lunch. We could also get a custom sandwich, a salad, and soup to join either of those. Fruit came with everything. Tom had never been waited on, at least not on the ship. He was respectful and polite, and not just of his table mates and environment; he treated April as a co-defender of the Constitution, not a servant. That was not lost on either Rondo or myself, in the glance we shared when Tom asked for a salad and soup instead of the featured entrees. When April took our orders, Tom acknowledged the menu and his choice.

"The baked mac and cheese sounds incredible. I'll live vicariously through my captains' choices. For me, just a little lactose goes a long way, as much as I'd like a lot of it."

I smiled at him, but as restrained as I possibly could be. I wanted him back where he was in my arms, about an hour earlier.

"You know, Donaldson, we all take chances with our desires. A little can go a long way and be pleasurable on seas fair or foul. Or, a lot, too much and too soon, and everything we thought we'd enjoy is gone in a flash. Misery and regret replace the pleasure. You're right to be.....restrained.....for awhile. I have no doubt at all that you'll find yourself enjoying what you want, when you want, with just a little patience to guide you toward that. It's not just you; it's advice I received recently that I take onboard, too. No intolerance of any kind, Lieutenant. Just caution."

Rondo raised the cloth napkin to his mouth and cleared his throat quietly.

"Yeah.....what he said......"

Then he smiled and we all laughed. Afterward we thanked April and the ward manager, our own version of a maitre-d'. Gangways and ladders later, Tom was returned to his ward, no doubt to questioning looks from the others, and Rondo and I went up and forward to get at that Backgammon board. Heh.....he didn't want to lose. He had no choice; I wasn't going to lose, despite Rondo Standing Bear giving Tom and me a chance, in the long run, at least for thirty days, to win.

Rondo dropped the dice in the cup and shook, rolling a Twelve. Ah. Well, well, well. Look where you landed; right where I get to make love to the doubling cube on my turn. I reached for the little cube on the board's divider. I watched Rondo's face while I shook the die in my fist, but didn't roll it. He smirked and nodded. Ah.....a sportsman who sees a risk, weighs his odds, reads the board and observes his challenger's behavior. It's exactly what we did in my quarters within two minutes of him walking through my hatch.

He and I weren't in a game earlier, though. My career wasn't a game. Rondo rolled the doubling cube back there in my little room, and he still let me win the point. The fact that we could play the same match on a smaller board now was only further relief for me that my life, like backgammon, was really as much up to luck as it was all of the strategy that got me to where I was at the green, young age of Thirty-two.

We played three games, and he won one of them. I watched his moves, anticipating that he would be up at least twenty-five percent over me, and then he grabbed the doubling cube. It was perfect on his part, and even if I had passed, I could've won the game. After the ship's bells struck their version of 4:00PM, I thanked him for a good game, lunch and, really, a good day. We decided to wait until tomorrow to measure. I, myself, had not surrendered to the black, flexible tape with curious gold ink marking tiny length progression.

"Captain, you're welcome to return to my quarters for measurements, or we can meet in the gym. Your call."

"The gym, actually. You and I are maybe an inch different in height, and not much different from that in everything else. I think your quarters are the same as mine, which pretty much means claustrophobic. That all right with you?"

"Yeah, a good point.....hadn't thought of that."

"Maybe not this time, you hadn't....."

Rondo smirked at me and I returned it, shaking my head a little and turning a not-so-little red.

"Name the time and I'll be there."

"Are you going up top to run again tomorrow morning?"

"I think so. I'd bet the remaining member of our sprinting and lapping trio will also be there, too."

"Did you know Donaldson is an Olympian? Gymnastics."

"No kidding! Maybe we'll have to drop the rings from the rafters for him."

"Wait.....there are rings on this ship?"

"Sure are. Two sets. Doesn't he know that?"

"He said there weren't any. I guess he doesn't know it."

"We have mats, too, you know. Mostly for wrestling. Maybe not enough to cover a regulation-sized gymnastics floor, but I don't know for certain. There are three gyms aboard; I know each of them has mats."

"I think he'd probably like to stretch his muscles. He said he's out of practice since coming aboard. I bet others would like a show with a real Olympian, if they could get one."

"Heck, I almost got a show earlier! Who am I to be greedy? I'll ask around. Do you think Donaldson would go for this?"

"I think he'd be grateful to exercise the way he's trained for eight years. He's still active on the Olympic team."

"As if that kid doesn't have people watching him already.....well, I'll get some answers, and maybe we can talk tomorrow up top."

"That sounds good. And we'll measure in the officers' gym after the run."

"Great! See you up top in, well, only a few hours, really."

"See you, Rondo. And.....thanks."

"No `thanks' necessary. I can't have too many brothers and nephews in my life. I like being up with the Kennedys."

We laughed and parted, and I returned to my quarters. So much happened there earlier, and also so little. But not enough. In the long run, not enough. Still, I'd practice patience. Tom came for me when I was going for him, and the collision still has stars in my eyes. It might take me thirty days, but damnit, I knew I would eventually get up close and personal with Ted E Bear on tight- and hard-bodied Eastern Montana by way of the USS Nimitz, CVN-68, position secret and classified and under my careful watch for a month. Longer, I think, if I get my way.

And a United States Navy SEAL always gets his way. Eventually.