By Cutieboy90

“Ahhhhhhhhh…!” Shane Matthews sighed contentedly under the hot cascade of the shower. His voice echoed on the white marble tile as peppermint perfumed steam rose to caress his body. “Ahh fuck yeah…”

Matthews ran his hand across his chest, leaving a trail of thick lather clinging to his hair and skin. The muscular sailor leaned against the wall and idly lathered his cock with a fistfull of bubbles. Though spent after fucking Tyler Clark’s cute butt for over an hour, Matthews’ virile cock grew hard at the touch and memory of its latest conquest.

“Two for one. Kinda?” Matthews stroked himself gently working the luxurious oil-rich soap along his seven-inch length, replaying in his mind how he’d been the top of the dogpile. Sexy fucker Brent Charles all roped up and gagged, his alpha top ass being plowed by virgin Clark who was himself impaled on Matthews. “Yeah, it totally counts…” Matthews purred as he fondled his nuts.

Taking a deep breath, Matthews ducked his head under the water. It flowed over his body rinsing away the soft creamy lather. Matthews shook the water from his eyes, admiring how clean he felt. The water gradually trailed off and Matthews stepped out of the spacious glass and marble cubicle and onto the carpet. A thick cotton towel awaited on the shelf in front of him.

“You hot fucker,” Matthews flexed for himself in the mirror. “Look at you! I’d do you. Heh. I’d let you do me too…” He winked at his reflection with a low flirty chuckle. He turned and checked himself out before wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Alright hotstuff. Better go check on your hoes. Bet they’re still all tuckered out from YOUR performance, heheh.” Matthews blew himself a kiss and opened the door.

Charles and Clark stood just beyond the threshold.

“Alright, shower time. You two need- Oooof!” Matthews felt the air leave his body as Charles tackled him into the wall. Angry red ropemarks covered his bulky muscular form, and his massive, unsatisfied boner twitched between his legs. Without a word, Charles dragged Matthews into his bedroom and threw him on the bed, tearing the towel from his waist. Clark followed behind, standing in the doorway with a fascinated smile.

Matthews was still stunned and breathless as Charles started tying his arms and hands behind his back, using the same ropes he’d been tied with earlier. Charles, a skilled rigger from a family of sailors, had Matthews hogtied in a flash. By the time Matthews had recovered enough to form words, it was already too late.

“Hey come on now, big guy,” Matthews tried to reason with him. “A bet was a bet… We uh… What’s that?”

Charles was fiddling with a long rope, his fingers working at a swift dextrous pace seemingly at odds with their thick rough appearance.

“Shaddup.” Charles pulled the rope in his hands tight, revealing it to be a rather large monkey’s fist.

Matthews gulped, knowing full well where that large knot was going. He struggled futilely in his bonds.

“Open up,” Charles pressed the crabapple-sized knot against Matthews’ lips. “I SAID OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” He jabbed Matthews in the side, forcing the bound sailor to gulp for air. Charles jammed the improvised ball gag into Matthews’ mouth and tied it tightly behind his neck. As a finishing touch, Charles pulled the end of the same rope back and tied Matthews’ big toes together with it, forcing him into an extreme position. He also tied Matthews’ cock and balls to the bedframe. Satisfied with his work, Charles and Clark then left Matthews to contend with his position.

Matthews finally recovered. He twisted and strained mightily in his bondage, bucking as much as the unyielding ropes allowed, roaring into his gag. The hogtie was brutal, he really couldn’t move! His back was arched painfully tight, his calves and hamstrings already cramping, and his neck was sore too. His jaw cramped around the rope knot stuffed between his teeth. How long could he take it?

The door slid open. Charles and Clark had gotten dressed. They watched Matthews struggle for a few moments, clearly enjoying the sight too much.

“So yeah, here’s the thing buddy…” Clark finally said with a slight sing-song tease. “I like the attention. You’re a hot guy. But fucking me wasn’t part of the deal. Luckily for you, I enjoy pitting you two idiots against each other.”

“Which is how,” Charles continued, taking Clark’s hand in his. “We came to an… Uh… Agreement. While you were busy manscaping and checking your nails, Clark and I talked it over. You’re gonna be our bitch until we BOTH decide otherwise.”

Matthews gurgled angrily in his gag, trying to shake his head no. He knew he couldn’t take Charles’ girthy tool, even if he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But if it meant getting out of this evil hogtie, he’d do it eagerly!

“We’re going to find food. Worked up an appetite, you know?” Clark nodded.

“You just stay there like a good little bitch and think about how you ended up this way.” Charles wrapped his beefy arm possessively around Clark’s slim waist and guided him out the door. “We might bring you back some table scraps, if we remember.”

“HUMMM FFUUUF HUGHHMMFFOOOGHUMPHH!!!”

The door slid shut, leaving Matthews to wallow in his miserable bondage.

 

Quinn-Timothy James sat on his bed, wide-eyed and breathless. He was hallucinating, surely! The sight of Caleb Bradley, his long-time straight crush, stripping out of his clothes for him. Smiling bashfully as he revealed his muscular body to him. This had to be a dream, it had to be!

Bradley pushed his boxer-briefs down and stepped out of them. His muscled core popped with definition as it heaved, guiding James’ gaze down to the big throbbing boner pointing straight at him. Bradley bit his lip, running his hands seductively along his torso.

“Is this everything you hoped it would be?” Bradley asked, grabbing his crotch. His cock swelled in his grip to a thick eight-inch length. James drooled and nodded like a dumb happy puppy.

“Heh,” Bradley smirked. “I bet it is…” He stepped closer to the bed where James still sat star-struck, hypnotized by the sway of Bradley’s hips as he sauntered over. “You don’t just have to look, you know.”

James wanted to show some restraint, but with Bradley’s naked body only a breath away, he had no chance. His hands grabbed Bradley’s thick thighs, those solid quads as hard as tree trunks. So hard… So defined. He’d always known Bradley was a walking anatomy lesson, but never had he dreamed just how thorough a lesson it would be.

Bradley placed his hands behind his neck, flexing both biceps as he let James explore at his own pace.

James drooled as he ran his hands up the back of Bradley’s legs, tracing his hamstrings and cupping his glutes. They were large, round and firm, like a couple of melons. James paused, resting his hands on those smooth buns. He looked up at Bradley’s face, framed by his huge biceps.

“Are you alright?” James asked, sensing some hesitancy.

“Yeah,” Bradley assured him with a smile.

“You sure?”

“Heh,” Bradley lowered his arms slowly, letting them rest at his sides. “I’m sure. I guess you didn’t expect me to be more of the submissive type.”

“Nah, that’s no problem,” James squeezed Bradley’s ass possessively. “I just don’t want to go too fast too soon.” Bradley nodded.

“I’d… Actually be more comfortable if you did take the lead.” Bradley admitted, placing his hands behind his back. “I trust you.”

James gently pulled Bradley down to kneel in front of him, caressing his pecs and shoulders.

“It’s alright, Bradley. I think… We’re both overthinking this. So let’s… Let’s just…”

James held Bradley’s chin, gently stroking his thumb over his lightly stubbled cheek. He bit his lip hesitantly. Bradley’s eyes twinkled in the light like two emeralds in a black velvet display. His breathing quickened as the moment stretched time to a near stop.

James closed his eyes as he closed the final inches, planting his lips against Bradley’s. His adonis of a partner gently returned the kiss, still keeping his hands behind him. His breath was clean with a sweet tinge… James pulled Bradley closer, kissing him more firmly. Bradley reached his arms out to steady himself, carefully placing his palms on James’ thighs. He parted his lips, mouthing James’ face like he did before up on deck.

“I… It just feels… So right with you…” Bradley panted between kisses. “I can’t… I wanna kiss your mouth forever.”

James briefly gagged on Bradley’s enthusiastic tongue probing. He moaned in agreement. Go with it, he repeated to himself. Just go with it. Enjoy it, before you wake up and realize this was only a dream.

 

“RAHHH! NYAAAAAGH!!” Jake Jackson screamed as he awoke with such a violent motion he toppled the deck chair. “ARRR FUCK!”

“Jackson, you’re alright, here…” Tony stepped around to help Jackson back up.

The beefy Marine sat on the deck panting so hard the fabric of his blouse creaked with every heave of his chest. Sweat quickly soaked through in the usual places.

“Fff-UCK… I…” Jackson’s eyes were wild and bloodshot.

“Jackson?”

Jackson hugged his knees burying his anguished sobs.

“Right… Tough guy.” Tony set the chair back into position and replaced the extra cushions and blankets. He refilled the glass. “Come on, drink. You’re sweating yourself to dehydration.”

Jackson reached out with a trembling hand to steady himself as he climbed back onto the chair. His knees collapsed from under him.

“Ugh…” Jackson crawled to the railing and sat against it. He took and held the water glass with both hands, but didn’t drink right away. Tony sat beside him.

“Jackson…” Tony said gently. “You need to rest.”

“I did rest.”

“You closed your eyes and tossed and turned for five minutes… On a deckchair.”

“I… I can’t go inside. The, the walls…”

Tony nodded. Poor Jackson, whatever had happened to him was still a problem. Thanks for nothing, telepathic android ship. He’s not getting any better. Tony let his head fall back against the railing. Surely, he wasn’t supposed to sit out here watching this man suffer through terrors all the way back to port…

Tony sniffed in frustration. He felt Jackson’s hand on his own. Turning his head, he found Jackson guzzling the water down like a fratboy at a beer garden. The color seemed to have returned to his face, but his hand felt so clammy.

“I’m so tired. I can’t see when I open my eyes… My body feels like it’s melted to the floor… I can’t think.” Jackson panted brokenly. “I just know I feel better when I hold your hand.”

“Hold it all you want, then.” Tony squeezed Jackson’s hand affirmatively. “But we can’t stay out here like this…” As he spoke, Tony got an idea. “So Jackson, come to my room. Lots of space, quiet, big windows. I have a balcony with a hot tub too.” Ship, move the bed onto the balcony. If you haven’t already.

Jackson tensed up.

“I’ll help you. See we can take those outside stairs up.” Tony pointed out the path to the Sun Deck, where his cabin was. “See the first balcony there on the end? That’s it. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Jackson snorted. “Comfortable. I don’t…” He stopped himself. He held Tony’s hand a little tighter. “Okay. Let’s go.” Tony helped the muscular giant to his feet and they made their way up the numerous stairs and decks to Tony’s cabin.

The Savoie boasted a number of cabin layouts and suite options. Single “Roman” cabins were mostly concentrated outboard along the Lower Promenade Deck. Double “Genova” cabins were often inside cabins clustered near the main stairwells. Most numerous were the Roman Suites, with three to five single cabins sharing a spacious living room, kitchenette, and two to three bathrooms.

The Sun Deck was host to the Savoie’s cabins of exception; a number of Roman and Genova suites with balconies equipped with hot tubs, and finally at the aft-most end stood several non-suite Genova cabins.

Tony and Sean had been assigned to one of these odd Genova cabins with a private balcony. But Sean isn’t going to set foot in this cabin anyway, Tony muttered as the door automatically slid open.

Jackson’s jaw clenched. His eyes began to take on a wildness.

“Over here,” Tony quickly whisked him out onto the balcony. To his immediate relief, the bed had indeed already been moved and prepared with the sheets turned down.

“Ok, ok. Ok…” Jackson panted lightly, looking around the open space. He placed both hands on the sculpted glass railing and breathed deeply. “I’m ok!” Jackson fell backwards onto the bed with a heavy thud. “Fuck…”

“Come on, let’s get you more comfortable,” Tony guided Jackson’s legs to the side to remove his boots.

“Oh. Oooooh!” Jackson moaned as his boots fell away, his feet free for the first time in almost five days. He gasped as Tony slid his thick socks off. “Mmmmmm…” The cool night air swirled around his toes, caressing and refreshing them. The sudden need for freedom surged through the young Marine’s veins. He twisted and arched his body up to remove the rest of his uniform.

 

“T-tony…” Jackson gasped once he’d tossed his blouse against the bulkhead. “Tony?”

“Right here,” Tony returned with a couple chilled bottles of water. “How…” He trailed off upon seeing Jackson’s incredible body clad in only a pair of trunks. His broad chest gleamed as he lay on his back looking up at the dark stormy sky, holding the sheet at his waist.

“Would you, uh…” Jackson blushed as he gestured with his elbow.

“Of course, Jackson.”

Jackson humped slightly as he moved to make space next to him, flexing his abs as he did so. Tony kicked off his own shoes and eased onto the bed. He let Jackson take his hand. Jackson clutched it to his solid core, just above his navel.

“You were right,” Jackson yawned. “It is better here… I- I could just…”

Tony looked over as the big lug fell asleep mid-sentence. His handsome face relaxed into a peaceful expression, his breath slow and steady. Finally! Tony felt himself nodding off quickly as well. This bed. It’s like falling into a cloud… Di dolci sogni di zucchero filato…

 

“It’s not even noon,” Ren Salynkos muttered as he checked his watch. “We really lost track of the time there.” It wasn’t much of a surprise, they’d all been subjected to great stress in the previous days. Salynkos was determined to adhere to his own schedule. “No naps for me,” he had decided beforehand. “Just need to keep moving.”

Salynkos had walked over four miles exploring the upper decks of the Savoie. Three lido decks, with pools, bars, and lounges. Three promenade decks, with wrap-around verandahs, deck games, a shopping area, cafes, and an art gallery. And yet there was still more below decks: three accommodation decks, the embarkation deck, and of course, the three massive decks below the waterline where the fitness and dining complexes resided. It all seemed excessive, even for a swanky cruise ship…

“Fuck. Outta cigarettes.” Salynkos pouted as he leaned on a teak deck chair. He gazed blankly up at the gray painted steel of his aircraft carrier. It was illuminated with spotlights, and several gangways were still in place between the two ships.

“God what a mess! Look at that shit!”

Salynkos turned to see a group of sailors gathering at the railing. He vaguely recognized them from the galley, younger deckhands most likely with top scores and lucky assignments.

“Dude, the masts are gone!”

“Ha! America’s finest, wrecked by a storm! No wonder the future of warfare is drones controlled by a bunch of videogame nerds!”

“At least the weather’s calmed down now. So you’re not puking all over us!”

“Shut up, you were just as sick as the rest of us. They’ll have to burn our fucking bunks.”

“Bro I can see them in their hazmat suits going ‘this is contaminated. Biohazard shit. Incinerate.’”

“Hahaha!”

“Yeah but, what about our jobs?”

“They’ll just reassign us. No big deal.”

“Hey guys,” Salynkos cut in. “Any of you have a cigarette I can bum?”

The three young sailors shook their heads.

“Naw man, sorry. We’re out too.”

“No, dumbass, you lost ours gambling!”

“All good,” Salynkos nodded and turned back toward the carrier. The sailors were joined by another.

“Guys! There’s pizza! On the other side!”

“I’m starved, let’s go!”

“Just don’t puke it up!”

“Hey, I’m not seasick anymore. Storm’s over, see?”

Storm’s over… Weather’s calmed down… Salynkos looked up at a black, thunderous sky. Glancing aft over the stern, shadowy mountains of water rolled by, yet the sea was impossibly smooth within the glow of the Savoie’s lights. This is wrong, Salynkos backed away from the railing, stumbling over the deckchair. Impossible.

“Cigarette, sir?” A doorman offered.

What!? Salynkos brushed by, his head reeling. First the soup, now the cigarettes? Like they’re reading my mind! And control the weather? It can’t be!

Salynkos stopped in the white marble clad aft atrium, panting lightly. He scratched at his neck, irritated by the coarse stubble growing in.

“Alright, breathe. There’s a logical, reasonable explanation for all of this I’m sure,” Salynkos muttered to himself. “I’m just tired, stressed, dehydrated, and in need of a smoke. That’s all. Everything will make sense! No need to lose my cool.”

Salynkos straightened up and took his bearings. I’m on the Upper Promenade Deck. There’s a bar on, well everywhere…  Just walk forward.”

As he walked by the atrium, a number of shops on the lower deck caught Salynkos’ eye. Surely they’ll have some smokes, he figured and descended to the Main Promenade Deck. Right at the bottom of the stairs, Salynkos was greeted by a very well-dressed gentleman in a Gabbana suit and patent leather shoes.

“Ah, signor! Benvenuto, entrare prego! I have just the remedy for you!”

Salynkos felt instantly at ease with this charming fellow, and let himself be guided toward a shop he hadn’t noticed before.

“Come, relax, enjoy. This is Valentino’s!” A barbershop.

Salynkos was ushered into a handsome room furnished with dark walnut cabinets, spotless linoleum floor, and black cherry leather furniture. Large mirrors with thin brass frames lined one wall. Salynkos was seated in a plush recliner, which creaked as any good leather should. A fat cigar was shoved into his mouth and lit.

“Mmmmmmm…” Salynkos wasn’t normally a cigar man, but this cigar was something special. Fine tobacco, with deep notes of dark chocolate and caramel. It took a few puffs to notice hints of cherry and rosemary, and something sweet keeping it from being too heavy and cloying. The smoke was liquid in texture; it was smoother than the finest silk as it rolled down Salynkos’ throat.

Meanwhile, Valentino lightly ran his fingertips through Salynkos’ hair, murmuring notes to himself.

“Yes, yes… Good thick hair, maybe a touch dry… Fast growth, a touch out of regulation…” He dipped his fingers in a bowl of water and worked it through to the scalp. He selected a straight knife from a collection of razors, and gave it a quick burnish with a strop.

Salynkos took a deep drag on the cigar, and closed his eyes. The rich smoke soothed his mind and relaxed his body. There was that aged sweetness again, coyly playing at the periphery of recognition… While the buttery smoke rolled through his nose.

“Just a quick touch-up here. I’ll be done before you finish that cigar…”

Salynkos nodded as the scratchy sound of the razor reached his ears, joining in the chorus of creaky leather, and squeaky linoleum. He entered a state of soft focus as he fought to stay awake.

“There!” Valentino mentioned non-chalantly. Salynkos opened his eyes as one of the assistants took the end of his cigar. “Now let’s get the rest of you cleaned up.”

Before he had time to react, Salynkos’s sleeves were pushed up and both hands were dipped into bowls of warm fluid. A hot towel was wrapped around his face and neck.

While the hot towel steamed Salynkos’ face and neck, two attendants carefully removed his boots and socks. Like with his arms, they rolled up his pant legs and placed his feet in a warm liquid. As his feet soaked, the attention returned to his arms. The attendants started by massaging Salynkos’ hands and fingers, gradually working up his forearms to the elbow, then gradually back down to his fingertips. Salynkos’ forearms were particularly tough, and were worked so deeply it almost hurt.

Salynkos felt his hands and fingers being massaged and exfoliated further. He heard the sharp clicks of the cutters next, followed by the brushing of files. Finally, his hands were slathered with a blend of lemon and olive oils. The process was repeated for his feet; massage up to the knee, trimming, filing, and oil.

Another attendant slowly removed the hot towel from Salynkos’ head. He applied a sparse amount of the lemon-olive oil to his fingertips and massaged it into Salynkos’ stubble. Salynkos watched through his eyelashes as the attendant quickly mixed up a thick lather with a brush, and worked it in with small circular motions. The creamy lather had the texture of well-whipped meringue, and smelled of licorice and bay.

“Si…” Valentino stepped forward brandishing the razor he’d spent the last several minutes sharpening. “Perfecto.”

Salynkos had never had a traditional shave before. He watched in the mirror as Valentino brought the razor close and worked it along the stubble in short movements and rinsing the blade frequently. The slight pull of the sharp metal tickled slightly as it whisked off his whiskers.

“Nice, yes?” Valentino smiled as he switched sides. Salynkos grunted an affirmative, too relaxed to form words.

Valentino made quick work of Salynkos’ shave, his skilled hand moving in steady careful motions around the contours of Salynkos’ chin and jaw lines.

“There!” Valentino brandished another warm towel to wash Salynkos’ face. “Good as new again!”

Salynkos reached up and felt his cheek, silently admiring the smoothness in the mirror.

His socks and shoes were replaced, and Valentino ushered him into an adjacent lounge to relax with a drink and another fine cigar. This time, the brandy enhanced the darker coffee notes of the cigar. Still, an enigmatic smoky sweet tone eluded identification.

Valentino’s lounge was a true gentleman’s retreat, furnished with masculine hues of dark woods, black cherry leather, and towering potted eucalyptus and rosemary plants manicured to look like baby pines. Salynkos took his time to enjoy the brandy and cigar. Sinking into the deep chair, his mind finally eased.

“It’s so nice, isn’t it.”

Salynkos nodded in agreement to the statement given. He turned his head as another patron sat in a nearby chair. It was Officer Stewart, who’d he’d last seen being taken away on a backboard and neck brace!

“Flight Deck Officer Stewart! You’re alright?” Salynkos couldn’t believe his eyes as Stewart stretched out, his freshly manicured toes on display glowing from the oil treatment. He too, had a cigar and a glass of brandy.

“Heh, again with the protocols. At ease, sailor,” Stewart chuckled and puffed his cigar. “Yes, I’m doing just fine. The doctor said I needed to relax.”

“But… Your neck, sir?” Salynkos stared.

“Not broken. Turns out I just tore all the Capitis muscles. Lucky I guess.” Stewart shrugged slightly. He took a long drag on his cigar. “These are good cigars… I don’t typically like them. They remind me of my grandfather, but not in a pleasant way.”

“I prefer cigarettes,” Salynkos agreed. “These here aren’t too heavy though. There’s a light, I dunno, sweetness in there I can’t quite…”

“Hmmm…” Stewart held a moderate puff for a moment before slowly letting it out. “Yeah, there’s like… A rosewood undertone that sneaks in right on the finish.”

Rosewood. That was it. Salynkos gave the cigar a sniff as he took a sip of his brandy.

Stewart wiggled his toes.

“So uh, have you ever had a pedicure before?”

“Not before this,” Salynkos shook his head. He couldn’t help but check out Stewart’s feet out of the corner of his eye. They looked to be size 10’s, good arches, and very soft-looking. He could feel how smooth his own feet felt in his boots.

“I… I think I like it.” Stewart blushed slightly. “I wouldn’t mind wearing sandals on the beach now, you know?” He flexed his foot, admiring how his buffed toenails caught the light. “Hmmm…” Stewart absentmindedly puffed his cigar. “Do you like feet, Salynkos?”

Salynkos did a double take.

“W-what?” Salynkos couldn’t take eyes off Stewart’s feet.

Stewart stretched his toes out again, smirking behind his cigar.

“You wanna be foot buddies, Salynkos?”

“Well… I, uh,” Salynkos stammered. “Wouldn’t that break a few rules?”

Stewart’s smile widened.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Salynkos gulped. Of course he did…

“I take the frantic look in your eyes as a yes, then?” Stewart took a long drag on his cigar. “Good.”

 

“Mmmmhmmphh…” Shane Matthews groaned in frustration. Having been left hogtied on his bed, the young sailor had struggled himself to exhaustion. Brent Charles’ expert ropework forced Matthews’ body into a tight arch, unrelenting in its harshness. That alone kept Matthews immobile; the soft mattress under him just added another level of hopelessness to his already impossible situation. Yet through it all, Matthews’ cock remained hard, angrily so. It throbbed intensely, rubbing into the soft bed covers as Matthews humped and bucked in his futile attempts to free himself. Or cum. Whichever he could manage first.

“Ughhh…” Matthews whined as he drooled and sweated all over himself. His body was sore and he had lockjaw from the huge knot stuffed in his mouth. It felt like he’d been here for hours.

The door slid open. Matthews stiffened, trying to look stoic as his captors returned.

Brent Charles and Tyler Clark took no notice of him at first, they were frisking and holding each other as they undressed and snuggled on the bed.

“HMPH!” Matthews huffed through his gag. His protest fell on deaf ears, but the long string of saliva that oozed down his chin did not go unnoticed.

“Hey look, the room even has a lube dispenser!” Clark laughed, nudging Charles in the side. “Fancy that.”

“Gross, it’s all over the bed!” Charles smirked. He lifted his feet off the bed, placing them on Matthews’ back deliberately adding to the strain of his hogtie.

“MMMMMPH!!!”

“You’re so mean,” Clark chuckled as he gave Charles a light smooch on the lips.

“Yeah, alright…” Charles reluctantly moved his feet. He made out with Clark for a moment before rolling out of bed and approaching Matthews.

“So!” Charles barked, his hands on his hips. “You’ve had two hours to yourself now. You going to behave?”

Matthews tried to nod, but the tightness of his hogtie and fatigued neck muscles prevented him from any movement. He whined pathetically instead.

“Alright good. You know what’s next?”

Matthews whined an affirmative.

“Good.” Charles began to untie him. Clark crawled to the end of the bed and caressed Matthews as he was released.

“We agreed it was fair,” Clark said gently. “Charles said you’d be game too. Here.” Clark kissed Matthews deeply as the gag was removed. Matthews didn’t resist, nor did he make a sound as he swapped spit with his fellow sailor.

“Come on, boys…” Charles tossed the ropes to the corner of the room stroking his cock with one hand. “Enough foreplay.”

Clark whined softly as he broke the kiss. He nodded to Charles. Matthews was going to ask what the hell was going on, but Clark had guided him to the edge of the bed and pushed him onto his back with his head over the side. Clark lifted Matthews’ legs onto his shoulders and lined his eager cock up with Matthews’ hole.

“O-oh.” Matthews blushed as he was entered. Clark had a decent-sized dick, slightly above average. Matthews had certainly taken bigger, but after the stress of the previous days and the two hours of hard bondage, he was tense and tight.

“It’s ok, stud.” Clark whispered softly. “I’ll be gentle. At least at first…”

“Uhhhh…!” Matthews leaned his head back as Clark established a long, slow pace. Matthews had taught him too well. Meanwhile Charles stepped up to the bedside, cock in hand. He held his fat head against Matthews’ lips.

“Yeah, we didn’t bring you any food.” Charles grunted. “You’ll have to make do with a protein shake.” Matthews rolled his eyes and took Charles’ cock right down his throat. After being gagged with a huge monkey fist knot, his jaw was stretched enough for him to swallow Charles’ beer-bottle thick monster with little trouble.

“UCKK!!” Matthews still gagged as the heavy tool plunged deep over his out-of-practice gag reflex. “GGHHH!”

Charles ignored him. Matthews could deal. Charles leaned forward and caressed Clark’s chest, now glistening from the rookie top’s exertion.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Charles pecked at Clark’s cheek.

“Uh huh…” Clark’s eyes were half-closed, the young sailor lost in his own world of unfamiliar pleasure. Charles smiled knowingly. He reached for Clark’s waist, pulling him closer.

“MMMGHH!” Matthews gurgled as he was impaled deeper at both ends.

“There we go…” Charles marveled at the firmness of Clark’s lean frame trembling in arousal. The boy bit his lower lip as he fought to keep his pace steady. Charles stooped down, hilting in Matthews’ throat as he did so, planting a firm kiss on Clark’s tense mouth.

“Mmmmmm…” Clark instantly responded, kissing Charles in return. His lithe body relaxed a little bit, enough to maintain his rhythm and to arch his back into Charles’ grip.

With his mouth stuffed and throat stretched, and Charles’ fat nuts pressed into his nose, Matthews struggled for breath. He was seeing sparks and feeling the burn in his lungs. His arms were pinned at his sides by Charles’ solid grip, and with Clark’s balls pressing into his tailbone, Matthews wasn’t going anywhere. His body jerked, desperate for air.

Even the gentle sensation of a lubed hand stroking his dick wasn’t enough to distract him…

Charles eased up just enough for Matthews to get a lungful of musky air. Matthews’ eyelids fluttered. Clark’s insistent stroking filtered back to dominate Matthews’ senses. Won’t last long like this…

Matthews’ cock exploded with a volley of cum, splattering over his heaving abs. But the impressive second load went unnoticed by Clark and Charles, who were too busy frenching each other. Clark continued to idly stroke Matthews’ spent cock right through the post-orgasm sensitivity, through his refractory period, and back to the edge of another orgasm.

Charles had been edging himself in Matthews’ tight throat, while savagely tongue-fucking Clark’s throat. Time had lost meaning at this point; all that mattered was pleasure. And Charles could feel his boiling seed preparing to erupt. It was creeping through the pipes like hot molasses, held back by nothing but its own viscosity. Until it reached his prostate…

“MMAAAAAUUUHHHHHHHGGG…!!!!!” Charles roared into Clark’s mouth as he suddenly shot his firehose into the depths of Matthews’ gullet. Matthews was close too, twisting breathlessly as a small watery load squeezed itself out.

“Ah, FUCK!” Clark lost control as Matthews clamped down in the throes of his third cumshot. Clark buckled, humping erratically as his orgasm faded out.

Charles was the first to recover. He patted Clark’s head as he lay panting on top of Matthews.

“Heh. Good times,” Charles let his thick soft cock flop wetly out of Matthews’ mouth. He squeezed the last drops of cum onto his used cocksleeves’ tongue. Matthews was just about passed out, but instinctively swallowed.

Charles took a moment to reposition his exhausted roommates in a more comfortable position together. Clark and Matthews settled sleepily in a spooning position once Charles had pulled the sheets up.

“Ah fuck it,” Charles climbed in to join them. “We’ll just clean up later…” Clark nuzzled Charles’ chest, nodding off as soon as Charles had tucked himself in.

 

Caleb Bradley jogged briskly around the track on the Upper Promenade Deck, panting hard as he tried to collect his thoughts. Sweat dripped down his nape soaking into his workout tee. What a night, er, day? Whatever it was… Lightning streaked across the sky, briefly revealing rough mountains of water rolling through the distance.

“Heh. Lightning…” Bradley mused. He’d felt as if he’d been struck by a bolt everytime he and Quinn-Timothy James had kissed, and touched. And then waking up with James sleeping so peacefully in his arms, just the memory sent a rush up his spine and a smile to his face. “That would never get old.”

Bradley slowed to a stop at the aft railing, taking a moment to stretch. As his heartrate slowed, a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. He meant what he had said, about happily spending the rest of his life with James. I know he didn’t believe it… He carefully stretched his torso, still feeling a twinge of discomfort in his ribs.

“Hmmm…” Bradley began a cool-down lap of the deck. “What can I do, to help you believe me? As crazy as it sounds that I’m gay for him, and only him. No one else will believe it either.” He could just hear his parents voices lamenting how the navy had turned their darling boy into a f-

Bradley stopped at the forward bulkhead, slamming a fist on the railing. It doesn’t matter what they say or think. He’d found a special person who made him very very happy. They’d come around, eventually. But how would he ever explain it to his ex girlfriends?

With a huff, Bradley stepped into the cool comfort of the Savoie’s interior. He stopped for a moment when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window. His muscles popped from under the damp fabric of his sweats, particularly his ass. Damn! I can see why he’d like that…

“And I can make him every bit as happy as he makes me.” Bradley nodded back to his handsome reflection. “I will.”

Something twinkled from the other side of the glass. It was the ship’s jewelry boutique. Bradley gulped and wandered in. A small case of rings sparkled from the far end of the small shop. Another customer was peering through the wide selection.

“You too, huh?” The other man nodded as Bradley approached.

“Yeah,” Bradley replied. “Kind of… Unexpected.”

“It happens!” The man stood up, showing off an unmistakable physique.

“You’re one of the Marines,” Bradley nodded in awe. “You’ve got that big Marine Corp butt.”

The Marine winked.

“Nathan Vincent,” the Marine held his hand out.

“Caleb Bradley.”

Vincent shook his hand firmly, turning his head slightly to size his new friend up. He whistled.

“You almost have a Marine’s physique. Nice chest.”

Bradley blushed slightly.

“Heh,” Vincent slapped Bradley’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I already got a man.”

“Right,” Bradley awkwardly turned back to the jewelry case. “So uh, which ones do you like?”

“Beats me… I just know I gotta put a ring on it ASAP. Woke up this morning with my dick still in his ass, and knew I couldn’t lose him. You?”

The jeweler stepped up to the counter with a velvet box.

“Perhaps something simple, like these.” The jeweler opened the box to reveal two Tatinite wedding bands, shining like pure silver. Vincent’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! I like these,” he stated.

“Very good, sir,” the jeweler closed the box and prepared a bag. “Tatinite is indestructible, will never scratch dull or tarnish, is light as air, and will adapt to the wearer so will never be too loose or too tight.”

Vincent fished out his wallet.

“Non, signor,” the jeweler shook his head. “On the house. A wedding gift, compliments of Captain Savoie and Martin Robért.”

“Uh wow, thank you!” Vincent beamed. “Alright!” He collected the bag and turned to leave. “We should workout sometime, get you a nice big Marine butt too!” Vincent winked at Bradley and swaggered out the door.

“Sure thing, Vincent.” Bradley turned his gaze back to the rings in the case. “Huh…”

“For you, sir,” the jeweler offered. “Might I suggest something a little different?” He stepped toward the back to a case of opaque glass. “Perhaps a more intimate expression of your commitment would pique your interest…”

Bradley held his breath as a larger velvet box was placed on the counter and opened dramatically. It was a chastity cage, gleaming a bright silver. The ring was wide and well rounded, with a thin Murano glass inlay.

“These cages are custom fit, solid Tatinite, and feature a special electronic lock attuned to your partner’s DNA. An A.I. resides within the metal, and can provide a pleasant sensation, and ultimate security. If you wish, nanites can form a urethral plug, and a butt plug, whatever you may be in the mood for. ”

Bradley held the cage in his hand. It looked so small. How would it even fit on him? What would James think?

“I… Uh,”

“I’ll hold it for you, let you think it over.” The jeweler carefully placed the cage back in the box and closed the lid.

“No wait,” Bradley reached out for the box. The jeweler met his hand.

“On the house,” the jeweler smiled. “Compliments of Captain Savoie and Martin Robért.”

Bradley nodded, tucking the plush box into his waistband and nervously returned to his room.

 

“I’m… Floating. On a cloud of cotton candy. Over a beach…” Jake Jackson smiled. “The sun is shining. It’s so warm, but the breeze is nice.” Jackson could feel the balmy air caressing his big feet. He moved his hand up his chest, taking in a breath of sweet summer air.

Jackson slowly blinked his eyes open, and the view of a beachside paradise shattered into a black stormy sky and boiling seas. Yet, the inner tranquility remained. He tenderly stroked the hand he was holding.

“You’re awake?” Jackson asked quietly.

Tony patted the Marine’s huge forearm.

“Si. You got some rest?”

“Yeah… I did!” Jackson shifted, letting the sheet creep lower. “I feel great! Like I could even go-” Jackson trailed off when he noticed Tony’s gaze had redirected. “Oh. Heh.”

Jackson was sporting some serious morning wood. He pulled the sheets back up bashfully.

“Uh yeah… I kinda forgot…”

Tony pushed the sheets down. Jackson was hung!

“Jackson, uh, how do you walk with that?”

Jackson blushed. He leaned back on his elbows.

“It’s alright, go ahead. Just uh, don’t play too long. I’m really horny.”

Tony gulped, drooling at the sight before him. Jackson’s trunks looked about ready to burst at the seams from the throbbing monster they fought to contain. They were so tight, Tony had trouble pulling them down!

“Fuck…” Tony breathed. “It’s so big!” At first glance, he guessed it was about 30cm long, and probably the same around… Tony needed both hands to lift the huge cock.

“It actually weighs nine pounds…” Jackson said softly.

Tony’s breath grew heavy. Unsure of how to handle Jackson’s salami, he let it lay against Jackson’s abs and stroked it from base to tip. Aside from its size, to Tony it looked like the typical American cock: cut foreskin, prominent mushroom-like head, mostly smooth shaft with a slight curve upwards. Jackson’s pubes were neatly trimmed and Tony could tell he manscaped regularly.

Compared to his cock, Jackson’s balls seemed small. They were still the size of large chestnuts; well above average. They also felt heavy in Tony’s palm. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss the plump orbs.

“Mmmm…” Jackson bit his lip, rolling his hips slightly.

Tony observed Jackson’s reaction carefully, kissing and lapping at his hefty nuts with his tongue. He took them into his mouth one at a time, sucking and mouthing them individually as Jackson’s eyes fluttered and he let out gasps of pleasure.

“Fuck man, that feels good…” Jackson moaned. He reached down and stroked himself with both hands, pulling at his swollen head with a slight twisting motion.

Tony was salivating heavily on Jackson’s balls. Not wanting to overstimulate them, he kissed his way up Jackson’s great shaft, sloppily wetting its length with spit. He couldn’t quite fit the enormous head in his mouth, but he did the best he could to cover it with his tongue.

“That’s good, you’re good baby…” Jackson smiled his satisfaction, resuming his focused stroking of his glans. “So close…”

Tony rested against the trembling Marine’s bulk, massaging his fat nuts and tickling his taint as he watched him approach the edge.

“That feels…. Good. Please don’t stop… Yeah, just like that.”

Tony let his pinky and ringfinger slip into Jackson’s hole, probing him gently while pressing his scrotum with his palm.

“Oh huh… Huh huh… OH!” Jackson’s stroking immediately became erratic and clumsy. “HUUUUUUGHH!”

Jackson went rigid and quiet as a thick rope of cum shot over his chest, landing at his clavicle with a heavy plop. The second and third blasts streaked over his heaving pecs like the icing on a Cinnabon.

Tony watched transfixed, only easing up with his palm and fingers when Jackson stopped clenching and shooting. His load was so thick! Tony nuzzled Jackson’s chest, planting a tentative kiss on his shoulder.

“God…” Jackson panted as if he’d just run a marathon. His big load slowly began to lose its structure, gradually running down the mounds of his chest to pool in the gutters between his abs.

“Come guardare la neve sciogliersi da una pietra…” Tony breathed in awe. He craned his neck down for a quick taste, wistfully regretting he hadn’t sucked it directly from the source.

Jackson’s mighty cock took a while to soften. Even flaccid, it was almost seven inches long and as thick as Tony’s wrist.

Jackson lay still, quietly panting and seemingly unaware as Tony licked him clean.

“That was so… Thank you.” Jackson whispered, his voice caught in his chest. His eyes remained closed, like those of a child trying not to wake up from a pleasant dream.

Tony stroked the man’s beefy chest, wondering if he was dreaming himself. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed Jackson’s plump mouth.

“MMMMM!” Jackson’s eyes shot open.

“Sorry,” Tony jumped back. “Sorry, Jackson, I didn’t…”

Jackson shook his head, pulling Tony back in.

“No, you’re good. Just wasn’t expecting it…” Jackson kissed Tony softly, his full lips warm and supple.

“Mmm…” Tony hummed happily as they shared a long kiss.

“Well,” Tony said when he eventually broke their smooch. “Are you hungry, or anything? Maybe we get lunch in the butterfly garden’s cafe?”

Jackson sat up, rubbing the small of Tony’s back ponderously.

“Sure,” Jackson nodded. “But I think it would only be fair if I sucked you off and kissed you with a mouthful of your cum first.”

“Wha-?”

“Because I want to,” Jackson smiled as he positioned his head within reach of Tony’s still-hard and now throbbing eight-incher. “I’m a strong believer of reciprocity in relationships, so I’m going to take care of you the way you took care of me.”

Tony felt his heart soar. He nodded wordlessly as Jackson put his soft sweet mouth to work.

 

Commander Daniels paced slowly along the Upper Promenade Deck, the teak planked deck under his boots providing a satisfying “thump” with every step. He clasped his hands behind his back as he side-eyed his command. At least you didn’t actually kill us… Nice try though.

Daniels had already reviewed the logs and reports from the engine rooms and had contacted his superiors. Just need to get back. And the investigation will begin. Approaching footsteps pulled Daniels’ mind back. It was Silber, he’d recognize that crisp gait anywhere.

“Silber,” Daniels turned to greet his old mentor.

“Feeling better, I see,” Silber joined him at the railing.

“The men… Seem in good spirits.” Daniels commented. “I spoke with a few earlier. It’s… I mean…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering at the huge gray mass of the carrier.

“What the hell, Silber!?” Daniels whispered. “I lost everything! How does a new ship with SIX nuclear reactors just-? I studied the plans, knew every system, followed procedures to the letter! The fuck!?”

“Come on,” Silber guided Daniels along the deck, gently herding him to the other side. “You did good. I know you did, and so do your men. Your ship let you down.”

“I was in command.”

“No, really. Your ship failed you.” Silber noticed a brightly lit door beckoning to him. Thank you, Savoie. “Ah, a cafe. How nice.”

The door led into a cheery little cafe Silber hadn’t noticed before. It was a hexagonal floor plan, with hexagonal floor tiles in black and white. The walls were an amber gold, with diamond shaped panels rising to a glass and gilt vaulted ceiling. Small triangular accent panels of candy blue, rose pink, and pistachio green evoked a soft elegance and unmistakable vibe.

“An ice cream parlor?” Daniels chuckled. “All right…” He and Silber took a table by the exterior bay window. The shopkeep quickly brought coffee and biscotti, promising to return soon with their favorite gelato.

“As I said, your ship failed you.” Silber stirred his coffee out of habit. “I know. There were a number of compromises made to please certain committees and-”

“Admiral Kalling.”

“Among others.” Silber dunked a biscotti. “Of course, we thought we’d get a few more years out of them before the troubles started, or that we could figure out a solution before there was a problem. Alas no luck.”

Gelato was brought to the table in almond-tuile bowls set on crystal plates. Silber had lemon meringue and coconut, while Daniels had honey hazelnut and raspberry.

“If you really want to know…” A hologram opened up on the table next to Daniels’ coffee cup. “The A.I. ran a diagnostic.”

“And you believe this A.I. report?”

“I do.”

“Hmm… I suppose Robért is qualified to make such an assessment, given the reputation of his products so far.” Daniels skimmed through the report. “And of course the handling of this rescue operation.”

Silber sipped his coffee. He’d already seen Savoie’s conclusion that the carrier’s aluminum wiring had overheated and liquified following a power surge. Only the copper alloy wiring handling the reactor emergency controls had remained intact. The aluminum wiring had been chosen to help offset the unexpected weight of the powerplant and engine installations, but the gauges had never been recalculated from the planned copper wiring, leading to inefficiency, overheating, and eventual failure. The report for the two destroyer escorts had reached the same conclusion.

“…And Kalling will be furious.” Daniels was saying between bites of gelato. “He already is, but he’ll hit the roof if he sees this. Well, if the Navy’s investigation comes to the same conclusion as Robért’s.”

“Even the Navy’s not that stupid…” Silber muttered.

“It would be Kalling’s fault.” Daniels continued. “He was on the design oversight committee. He was the one pushing for the aluminum wiring and singular switchboards. Which is why they’ll find another fault…”

“Perhaps.”

“How was Italy? I might be joining you and Roger there in the near future.”

“Italy was nice,” Silber allowed the subject to change. “The food’s good, people are friendly, places to see. The men are nice to look at.”

“Heh,” Daniels scoffed. “I’m sure they are all like that David statue.”

“And they still will be in twenty years when you retire,” Silber nodded. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t forget, I still have some pull.”

 

“Yes you do. So much so, I-” Daniels stopped himself. He poked his gelato with the end of his spoon.

“Wish I’d return, I know.” Silber shrugged. “Me too. It’s a different world, civilian life. And retirement…”

Daniels smiled wistfully.

“Right.”

“Ahoy Silber! Daniels!” Roger and Nelson approached the table. “We were going to the concert hall, but this one just had to stop for gelato first.”

“Roger.” Daniels raised an eyebrow. “Three years, and that’s the greeting you have?”

Roger broke into an overly saccharine smile.

“DANIELS! Oh! It’s been way too long my dear friend, so wonderful to see you again! I must-”

“Stop. Please stop.” Daniels held up his hand. “It’s scary when you’re nice… I really thought you’d be by a pool somewhere being sustained with margaritas through an IV.”

“Didn’t we all…”

“You’re going to a concert you said?” Silber inquired.

“Yes!” Nelson replied. “Actually I was lamenting our missing Captain Ammad’s flute recital, and Martin mentioned the Savoie has daily music programs.”

“So we can hear some Chaminade afterall…” Roger muttered.

“A lovely idea,” Daniels nodded to Silber.

The waiter approached Roger and Nelson with their own almond tuile bowls of gelato.

“Ah!” Nelson’s eyes lit up. “Gianduja gelato. Perfect.”

“And Roger has?”

“Mmmm…” Roger hummed over his first spoonful. “Green apple and whiskey.”

“Sour and bitter,” Daniels chuckled. “Very fitting.”

 

The Savoie’s five-level concert hall was situated at the bow, where the vertical conical flare made a natural amphitheater shape.

Unlike the rest of the Savoie’s interiors, the concert hall was devoid of colorful Murano glass; instead the room was furnished in jet black satin and velvet. Even the light fixtures were matte black translucent glass. Onyx and black crystal glinted like stars from the upper levels. Silber estimated the hall had a capacity for about 2500. Presently only a handful of the seats were occupied by several small groups of sailors talking in hushed whispers.

“What a lovely program!” Nelson’s comment refocused Silber’s attention. “Italian Piano music. And after intermission is some organ music.”

On the stage under a soft spotlight, stood the biggest concert grand piano Silber had ever seen. Despite its great size, the instrument looked small on the stage dwarfed by the cavernous hall. It had a distinctive “black silver” finish, recalling the elegance of the spinet in the V3’s tea salon.

Behind the piano rose a sheer black backdrop, through which a glimmer of color and light winked tantalizing hints of the enormous Murano glass pipe organ that lay behind.

Must be a Tatinite glass, Silber thought. The keyboard is probably a hologram, the airflow probably ionic, and the whole thing probably weighs less than a sheet of paper… Martin would then say it’s the finest pipe organ in the world. And he wouldn’t be wrong.

“It must have a ten octave keyboard.” Nelson hissed, still fixated on the piano.

A pianist in a tuxedo walked onto the stage. After a bow, he sat at the beautiful piano and without hesitation began to play the sparkling allegro introduction of Salieri’s Piano Concerto in C Major. The piano’s enormous body gave its tone an extraordinary roundness and depth.

“Ohh…” Nelson sighed quietly, his inner music critic lost in a performance for once.

Silber’s mind, on the other hand, wandered the hall’s architectural features. Recognizing that the high, curved ceiling matched the shape and angle of the whaleback of the ship’s foredeck, Silber estimated the structural Tatinite couldn’t have been more than a few millimeters thick. You could make some killer submarines with this…

Yes we could… Captain Savoie’s voice echoed in Silber’s mind as a blueprint of a Tatinite research sub flashed through like a fleeting memory. But why bother, when the Comtes are more capable?

Right, you’re telepathic. Silber replied in thought. This is weird.

A welcome luxury you could get used to… Savoie hissed seductively. You love the directness, the efficiency.

Of course I do. But do I have any secrets from you?

No. But they’re safe with me. Unless of course, you want me to help. I can, you know.

What?

Whatever you want. I can fill that void you deny you have.

I don’t know what y-

Yes you do. Savoie’s voice deepened. I know, and I can fix it.

Silber scoffed outloud. Nelson and Roger shot him glares.

“Heh, sorry.” Silber pretended he was clearing his throat.

So what is it you think I want?

Everything. You want to enjoy your well-earned retirement. But you miss your career.

You can’t stop assessing and strategizing, planning and analyzing. And you want to fix the mess your colleagues made of your legacy…

Silber’s fleet flashed before his eyes. The powerful Second Fleet, all boasting cutting-edge compact nuclear reactors, LED lighting, laser-guided weaponry, ready to lead the Navy into the uncertain future…

It’s impressive, Savoie hissed gently. Silber smiled in agreement. Such a shame the compromises demanded by the nature of democracy doomed your vision to failure.   

The knot in Silber’s stomach returned. He clenched his jaw.

That wasn’t all though, and you know it. Silber shot back, thinking up an image of the first reports he saw of the new Eclairs. You made my vision obsolete well before the first signs of trouble.

True enough, Savoie backed off. I’m not here to ridicule or keep score. I want to help you achieve something greater.

What would you gain by helping me?

Why, you, of course. I like your mind.

A montage of images flashed through Silber’s brain. An elite unit of SEALs, a fleet of futuristic ships and submarines, a fancy office…

Stop that! Dreams of a quiet retirement on the Italian Riviera with Roger and Nelson flooded back to the forefront.

Are you sure? Savoie insisted, now putting images of fit young SEALs being put through their paces in physical training, getting spanked, chastity training, sweaty bondage workouts, and-

Your boner seems to have a clear preference, Savoie gloated. Like I said, I can make it all happen. If you let me.

That’s impossible.

Who says you can’t have it all?

Silber saw himself as a hologram marching across a ship’s deck inspecting a unit in dress uniform. The hologram Silber broke the fourth wall, giving Silber a nod and a slight smile. Silber suddenly had a sense of deja vu, remembering the deck, the unit inspection, the weather in the harbor, even the lunch he’d had earlier that day. Memories of an event that hadn’t happened.

Don’t worry, you won’t even have to choose… Savoie’s voice faded out of Silber’s head, blending into the crisp dominant cadence of the concerto’s recapitulation.

No I don’t. Silber smirked. As the first movement ended, Silber quietly stood and left the hall with a spring in his step.

 

“Oh no, no more plea-AHHHHHH!!” Ren Salynkos’ deep voice broke into a silent airy screech, his body twitching and convulsing.

“No, sailor.” Deck Officer Stewart smirked as his new friend squirmed on the contoured marble slab he was strapped down to, squelching in pools of oil and sweat. “Not yet.”

Salynkos didn’t hear Stewart’s words; they didn’t register in his frazzled brain. He’d been strapped face-down to a marble slab in one of the private cubicles across from the heated pools in the lap pool complex. Here, Salynkos had been stripped, oiled up, and subjected to what seemed like hours of tickle torture. He squeezed his eyes shut as another assault to his exposed underarms began. The big lug flopped helplessly like a fish in a net.

Stewart’s cock throbbed in his skimpy shorts, painfully hard seemed to be the new normal when Salynkos was around… Stewart adjusted himself, wondering if Salynkos was hard too. His oiled fingertips danced over his captive’s sensitized ribs, drawing out another silent scream. That muscular frame jolted away as far as the restraints allowed, trembling and shaking like a dead leaf in the wind.

Salynkos spasmed breathlessly, bucking away from the relentless fingers. His back arched tightly as his hips suddenly thrust into the marble table.

“Ah…! Ack! HAaack-k-k-!” Salynkos kicked his feet erratically.

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll get back to those big beautiful soles of yours soon.” Stewart cooed. “Just as soon as I finish with…” He trailed off as a new scent reached his nose. Against the light fragrance of the olive, orange, and pistachio oils perfuming the air, the sharp smell of fresh cum was unmistakable.

“Ooookay, okay there, pal.” Stewart eased off the tickling, switching to a gentle massage touch and working in circles on Salynkos’ broad shoulders. “Get your breath back.”

Salynkos slumped against the cool marble slab, humping lightly as his cock dribbled the remnant of his ruined orgasm. He gritted his teeth. After all that agonizing tickling, losing his mind to oxygen deprivation and physical overstimulation, just to have a ruined orgasm. He’d never gotten off hands-free before, let alone with another man.

“Uhhhhhh…” Salynkos let his tongue lol, drooling freely as his burning cheek rested on the stone. Stewart’s hands worked their magic on his shoulders, neck, upper arms and back, slowly working down his delts.

“That’s it, easy bud.” Stewart got another fistful of oil from the spigot labeled with a lavender sprig. “Gotta work out the knots you just gave yourself…” Stewart ran his open palms over Salynkos’ thickly muscled back, reveling in the firm feel and deep bronzey tone of his skin. The thick black tufts of hair under Salynkos’ arms glistened with oil.

Stewart drank in the sight, selfishly taking his time working down Salynkos’ back. He didn’t feel any knots, but he enjoyed digging into the layers of muscle “just to be sure.”

“Hah…” Stewart bit his lip as he reached Salynkos’ lower back. His prominent Apollo dimples now pooled with oil. A trail of hair ran down along the base of his spine, growing thicker toward his tailbone. Stewart gave this natural treasure trail a swipe of oil, carefully massaging the area.

Up to this point Stewart had remained professional, and his tickling had avoided the pelvic region. But now it was a challenge, with Salynkos’ big bubble butt right there. A moderate dusting of hair, matted with sweat. And those firm tree-truck upper thighs begging to be oiled up and massaged.

Stewart’s palms pressed against the big hunk’s lowest obliques. He ground himself into the side of the table, reminding himself he was an officer.

“It’s alright, sir.” Salynkos consented huskily, his voice back to its normal octave. “It’s only fair you get to enjoy yourself too.”

“I, uh… “ Stewart hesitated, momentarily gay panicked.

“Really,” Salynkos lifted his wrists against the straps. “I’m in for the ride.”

“Right… You are.” Stewart gingerly moved his hands south of the equator, immediately warming up considerably. “Buddy.”

“You can use a bit more pressure,” Salynkos nodded over his shoulder. “I can take it, bro.”

Stewart didn’t need to be told twice. He kneaded those thick glutes like they were silly putty, spreading the oil across their great surface. The hair here was dark, but surprisingly not coarse.

“Brazilians. And lots of baby oil.” Salynkos shrugged, flexing casually. “I’ve proudly worn bikinis to the beach since I was in high school.”

“Wha-? Wow… Your confidence is impressive.” Stewart felt a twinge of envy as he pictured a younger Salynkos with longer hair in a bikini and sunglasses playing volleyball on a beach.

“It’s a Greek thing I guess,” Salynkos mused. “If you asked a- oooh!” He exhaled sharply as Stewart dug into his hamstring.

“These are tight. You need to stretch more.” Stewart worked his hands along the groin.

“Ahhhhh, yeah…”

“I got it. You try to relax there.” Stewart stepped around to the back of the table for better access, digging into both of Salynkos’ hamstrings simultaneously.

“Hmmmph…”

Sensing his buddy’s struggle to relax, Stewart tilted his head and kissed Salynkos’ right sole. He kissed lightly toward the toe and nibbled the tender flesh along the way.

“Just focus on this, ok?” Stewart whispered gently, ticking the smaller toes with his tongue. Salynkos said nothing in response, simply melting into the table and arching his back slightly. “Good sailor…”

Stewart took his time worshipping Salynkos’ right foot. The man had big feet, probably size 12 or 13. They were soft and smooth, Valentino had seen to that. But their size was novel to Stewart, who wore 9.5’s.

“You’re so damn sexy…” Stewart breathed as he switched to the left foot. He ground himself against the edge of the table, hypnotized by the sight of Salynkos’ ass flexing as his hamstrings were relaxed. Only thing missing from this view was Salynkos’ cock, which was resting under his body pointing toward his abs.

Unknown to Stewart, that cock was rock hard and ready to fire again. With all the foot play and sensual oil, and still horny from the ruined orgasm earlier, Salynkos had fast tracked through his refractory period. Though he wasn’t gay, Salynkos was finding himself very aroused by the attention of another man. He could feel Stewart’s eyes thirstily drink him in, the burn of desire in his touch… The situation was thrilling.

Salynkos blushed as Stewart’s hands returned his glutes, and his soft lips slurped across his arch.

“Fffuck, man…!” Salynkos humped into the table in a circular motion, suddenly shooting another load into the lake of sweat, oil, and cum his chest was soaking in. “Just… Fuckk. Awwww…”

Salynkos was spent. Stewart eased up, planting a final kiss in the center of Salynkos’ foot.

“Feeling better?” Stewart asked rhetorically. “I’ll uh, let you clean up. Meet up with you later.”

Salynkos nodded, still dazed and too relaxed to formulate a verbal reply. Stewart smiled, taking a final look at the sight before him to commit it to memory, before heading to the locker room. He had a nut to bust over this. Or maybe two or three…

 

Off Norfolk…

Commander Johnson stood at the windows of his carrier looking out at the bulk of the US Second Fleet under his command, staring intently at a low cloud bank directly ahead.

“Three radar contacts, bearing oh-four points ahead port, three miles.” The radar technician called out.

“Excellent.” Admiral Kalling barked.

Johnson focussed on a point slightly off the port bow, through the radar antenna of a frigate stationed nearby. He tolerated Kalling as he flounced about the bridge like a crazed peacock. He missed former Admiral Silber’s calm temperament…

Tense minutes passed slowly. Finally, a shadow darkened the edge of the clouds.

“Coast Guard has visual.”

“Navy command confirms visual.”

“Finally!” Admiral Kalling spat, marching briskly up beside Commander Johnson. “There you are.”

Out of the gloom emerged the battered hulk of the missing carrier. To its port side its two escorts also appeared, riding high in the water their superstructures wrecked almost beyond recognition.

A dozen tugs swarmed around, quickly taking the three vessels under tow. Navy cutters and helicopters filled to capacity with inspectors, engineers, technicians, and sailors detached from the fleet to begin their investigation. The huge gray warships were slowly moved out of the way.

Commander Johnson held his breath and peered harder at the cloud bank.

“Well?” Kalling glared at the Communications Officer.

“No contacts!” The radar technician called out.

“Damn!” Kalling spat. He stomped toward the radar. “Where is Robért? Where are my men?”

“The Comtes don’t show up on radar,” Johnson calmly reminded his superior.

“So where are-”

“Flashing light, two points off port bow!” The call echoed on megaphones across the fleet wafting through the open door of the Admiral’s bridge.

Kalling spun toward the port bridge wing, where Commander Johnson had already stepped out with his binoculars.

The two gleaming white passenger liners had materialized out of the fog, prominently flying the red crosses. Gangway doors were open, ready to welcome the Coast Guard boarding parties. Signal flags and flashing Morse lights confirmed the French vessels’ cooperation.

“Commodore Vannes and Captain Savoie are on the radio. All stopped. Martin Robért extends an invitation to join them on the Comte de Savoie.” The radio technician reported.

But Kalling wasn’t having it. He nodded to his assistant, who mumbled into a radio.

On cue, several formations of Marine helicopters thundered from the sky and converged on the idle Comtes.

“Admiral, is this really necessary?” Commander Johnson queried. “They were cooperating.”

“I want the bridges and engine rooms secure.” Kalling said, ignoring Johnson. “We must ensure the safe return of American servicemen, and these vessels are in violation of-”

“Nothing, Admiral.” Johnson tapped the screen of a tablet, displaying clearance codes and customs permissions for both ships.

“All the same,” Kalling stood his ground, watching with a smirk as waves of Marines dropped to the Vannes’ deck and poured in the open doors.

“Admiral, the representative of the French Naval Attache is on line four with-”

“Complaints.” Kalling waved his hand dismissively. “Defer it. I’m overseeing an operation here.”

“Admiral, the Commander-in-Chief has ordered that you stand do-”

“Targets secured,” the Marine’s report blared over the radio.

“Too late.” Kalling scowled.

“Did you just… Declare war on France?” Williamson whispered hesitantly.

“No. Shut up.”

“Admiral, intelligence reports the deployment of the French premiere frigate squadrons from Brest.”

“The Eclairs…” Hushed whispers echoed through the bridge.

“The Marine Nationale’s première flotte de frégates are defensive escorts,” Willamson advised. “Defensive escorts that admittedly possess the ability to disable the entire Second Fleet and shut down the Eastern Seaboard before you can even-”

“Thank you Williamson,” Kalling grimaced as his temples bulged. “We get the idea. I always preferred cake and ice cream over pastry…”

“Enjoy your extra paperwork, Admiral Kalling.” Commander Johnson turned to hide his own smirk. “Let’s go.”

A few short minutes later, Commander Johnson and his entourage stepped off their helicopter onto the Savoie’s foredeck. Commander Johnson eyed the ship’s long whaleback and breakwater structures, letting out an involuntary whistle. He and his men made their way through the corridors to the bridge. A large group of sailors sprinted by on the Lido Deck stairs, engrossed in their midday exercise.

“Uhh, Commander?” Johnson’s aide whispered. “Do… Do these men look… Uhhh?”

 

“Like they’ve been involved in a shipwreck? No, they don’t. I’ve seen new recruits look more beaten by basic training.” Johnson muttered back. “Didn’t the medical reports state everyone was in critical condition just two days ago?”

“They said the carrier personnel were all aboard the Comte de Savoie. We’re on the right ship?” The aide consulted his tablet.

“I’d say so…” Johnson nodded at the ship’s ceremonial bell displayed at the end of the corridor, crisply engraved with “Comte de Savoie.”

“Commander Johnson.” A pair of Marines nodded as the group reached the doors at the end of the corridor. Holographic placards reading “BRIDGE” hovered in front of the two pairs of double doors.

“Heh, so obvious even the Marines could find it…” Johnson’s aide chuckled quietly as he flicked the provided deck plans from his tablet’s screen.

“Gentlemen, esteemed guests, welcome!” Martin Robért greeted the Commander’s entourage at the doors to the lounge. Captain Savoie introduced himself once everyone was inside.

Commander Johnson peered keenly at the A.I. captain as they conversed.

“I read the report,” Johnson whispered to Silber. “I still don’t believe it. It’s a lot to take in…”

Silber nodded.

“Yes it is. I didn’t believe it at first either.”

“And… The men?”

“They’re in good spirits. I haven’t had cause for concern.”

“Hmm…” Johnson pulled up a hologram of the Savoie’s logbooks. “I’ll still have medical check it all out.”

“Commander,” Johnson’s aide interrupted. “Admiral Kalling is on his way over.”

“Great. The more the merrier.” Silber hid a smirk as Johnson’s face fell. “I take it you two still, uh, work differently.”

Johnson nodded wordlessly, and accepted a cup of coffee from a server.

“I tell you Silber,” Johnson said quietly. “I tell you…”

“Martin Robért!” Admiral Kalling barked as he stomped through the door followed closely by his entourage. “You’ve outdone yourself. This is… Another very expensive-looking ship you’ve got. The Germans claim it’s untouchable, but I’d certainly like to find that out for myself.” Kalling placed himself at the center of the lounge.

“Kalling isn’t one to be seduced by anything fancy,” Silber whispered to Nelson. “These two are like oil and water…”

“Admiral Kalling,” Martin replied with a warm smile. “A pleasure, again. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Admiral, Mr. Robért has agreed to accompany us for the inspection,” Commander Johnson said.

“Proceed.” Kalling barked.

Silber couldn’t help sharing a grin with Nelson and Roger. The three of them watched as Captain Savoie opened his mouth to speak.

“…And here we are back at the Observation Lounge.”

Admiral Kalling hadn’t even blinked. Commander Johnson hadn’t even moved a toe. Captain Savoie had given them a full tour of the ship in less than an instant, simply inputting the memory directly in their brains.

Martin nodded, and champagne was brought.

“Very expensive ship…” Kalling muttered to Williamson, completely unaware they hadn’t left the room. “But the military potential is undeniable.”

“Did you enjoy your tour?” Silber prompted Commander Johnson.

“I think…” Johnson gulped.

“I think we must have some of these,” Kalling plucked a hologram model out of the air. “Just add a real bridge, optimize the Sun Deck for aircraft operations, nix the bars, nix the theaters, add accommodation on the extra promenade decks…” Kalling stretched and modified the hologram model as he spoke, creating a new militarized Comte with his fingertips like a spider weaving a web.

“Ahem,” Captain Savoie gestured to the hologram table where a larger model waited.

“Wow,” Williamson looked between the concept in Kalling’s hand and the finished version on the table.

“Right, yes.” Kalling threw the palm-sized hologram ship over his shoulder and marched over to the table with the others. “A perfect multi-purpose vessel. High-speed, high-capacity transport, hospital ship, supply ship, and electronic warfare finisher. All in one.”

The drab gray Comte derivative had swelled to 40,000 tons. Aircraft and helicopters dotted the upper deck, and sailors could be seen lining the deck in their dress uniforms. Lasers and machine guns lined the railings of the former Lido and Star Decks.

The name Liberté formed at the ship’s bow, and the Stars and Stripes replaced the Tricolor.

“Hmmm…” Kalling swatted the hologram ship’s breakwater, and a large turret with an ion cannon appeared. “There. Now it’s perfect.” He flicked the name Liberté, which instantly switched to Liberty.

Martin stifled a chuckle.

“Nice, boss!” Willamson and the rest of Kalling’s entourage huddled around the hologram. “This could replace Air Force One!”

“Huge!”

“This thing is sick, Kalling!”

“I hope I’m not old and retired by the time it’s built…”

“Well? What do you think, Mr. Robért?” Kalling smirked.

Silber and Nelson turned silently to Martin for a reaction.

Martin slowly circled the model, side-eyeing it as he tipped his glass.

“A blaguebot like that,” Martin’s accent grew heavier. “Ce serait un gaspillage de mon Tatinite.” The hologram model shook in his presence, and the Liberty reverted back into the original sleeker concept sans machine guns and ion cannon. An updated aircraft facility materialized, and Kalling’s added accommodation on the Promenade deck relocated into an integrated section on the Lido Decks. The ship grew longer, now including two additional Spectrum panels and batteries.

“But a ship like this… A couple weeks.” Martin bumped the table with his hip, prompting the ship’s name to change back to Liberté. To Silber, it looked like a larger, more advanced version of the Eclair-class.

Kalling’s fist was clenched around his ever-present stressball, and his eye twitched once. Williamson clicked a fingernail against his tablet. Kalling snapped out of himself.

“Yes, and once again you’ve proposed a-” Kalling looked over the new Liberté’s specs. “A concept far superior to what we could have dreamt up. Good. I’ll contact my puppets at the Capital, and-”

“Hmmm? Oh, this isn’t for sale…” Martin said over a sip of his drink. The Liberté disappeared in a flash of silver light. “Even if it was, you can’t afford a ship like this.”

Kalling and his entire entourage looked as if they’d been kicked in the balls.

Johnson’s lip quivered as a smirk battled his composure.

Martin placed his empty glass down and buffed a fingerprint off his right cufflink. A lively spark of triumph danced in his eyes.

“But perhaps we can make an arrangement, some sort of deal.”

“Yes. Perhaps we can,” Kalling quickly regained his authoritative swagger. “I am prepared to negotiate with-”

“Admiral,” Williamson whispered with a nudge.

“WHAT!?”

“Admiral,” Williamson turned them away from Martin. “Wouldn’t it be most beneficial to hold off, until we have some proof of concept? We’ve never had any dealing with Robért, nor any experience with his products. And this technology is beyond our comprehension.”

“Williamson, the-”

“The Eclairs have been proven, true. But you’re not asking for a fleet of Eclairs.”

Kalling squeezed the ball in his pocket until his knuckles cracked. Ignoring his aide’s advice, he turned back to Martin.

“Mr. Robért, what are your terms?”

The spark in Martin’s eyes burst into full flames.

“Why, Admiral Kalling! Hon hon… Everything.”

“Done! Now let’s- Wait. ‘Everything!?’ Hold on-”

“Excellent. Congratulations everyone! Help yourselves to Champagne, Rhum, coffee, whatever you please. If you’ll excuse me.” Martin left the bewildered Kalling. “Captain Savoie will take care of the details. Adieu!” Martin scurried out the doors, his hem knocking his glass off the table.

“Wha-?” Roger stared. “That was uncharacteristically ungraceful…”

“You said it.” Silber agreed. “Here, I’ll go check on him.”

Silber stepped into the corridor and made his way aft. He found Martin at the bar overlooking the aft decks. The piano bar doubled as a night club complete with a patio, a Murano glass baby grand piano on the port side, and a Murano glass bar on the starboard side. Martin sat at a blue tiled booth, bathed in the rainbow refractions of light from the Murano glass, holding a small bottle of top-shelf Armagnac.

“Mr. Robért? Uh…” Silber hesitated upon seeing the tears in Martin’s eyes.

“…You wouldn’t believe it.” A wide wistful smile stretched Martin’s lips. “And you wouldn’t believe how!” He took a swig from the bottle. “I wish you could have been here.”

Silber sat at the neighboring booth, placing one hand on the glass-topped table.

“Antoine Robért worked at the navy shipyard in Toulon.” Martin whispered. “He loved what he did, and had the most beautiful ideas. Crazy ideas. Radical ideas. It started with developing a photosynthetic paint for use with the Mediterranean fleet, then the ion propulsion pod. He designed an A.I. program to do his research and calculations so he could spend more time with me… I don’t know why he loved me. I was nobody, a hotel manager from a Lyon suburb. He wanted to take me around the world and have a comfortable life.” Martin took another long sip.

“Eight years ago, they found an inoperable malignant tumor in his brain. He only lived for another three weeks. We were only married for two…” Martin sniffed. “The A.I. had backed up Antoine’s brain and personality, and somehow evolved through its grieving. It took over the shipyard, and brought all of this to reality. Fulfilling the life Antoine always dreamed for us. The A.I. and its creations keep his spirit and legacy alive, but I know he’s gone. It’s easy to get lost in it, and it’s what he wanted for me. Sometimes though, the success and progress reminds me he isn’t here to see it himself.”

“Who’d ever have guessed…” Silber found a glass of Armagnac on the table in front of him. “To Antoine Robért!”

“And to your promotion!” Martin perked up. “Captain Savoie told me. Congratulations, Admiral. You’ll be needing a fleet, won’t you.”

“I guess so? Though I’m not sure-”

“Oui,” Martin smiled keenly. “You will. You’re getting your own elite unit, absolute authority, exclusive use of a custom all-Robért fleet. It’s going to be great.”

Silber’s heart quickened.

“Ah but first, you and your friends have another week to ‘revel.’ A certain engineer from Rolls-Royce will be eager to see you and a certain key back in the same location…”

“I’d completely forgotten. But how did you know?”

“Henri sent a message yesterday.” Martin smirked. “Not to worry, we’ll whisk you back to the French Riviera once the sailors are disembarked. The Vannes will project a hologram, so Kalling won’t know we’ve left for a couple hours.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“But of course.” Martin shrugged. “May I ask, does Kalling normally walk around holding a ball gag?”

“Ha,” Silber laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Huh, I wondered if it was some psychological tactic. Guess not?”

“I think he just hoped no one would notice. Roger will have a field day with it.”

“I can see that.” Martin chuckled and took a sudden interest in the label of his Armagnac.

Out the window, a lone helicopter approached from shore.

“An Army chopper?” Silber pondered. A hologram opened on the table with the chopper’s flight plan and VIP list. “A Major Smith. Sean’s boss, right. I imagine several someones will be getting promotions.”

“It’s nice knowing everything, isn’t it?” Martin stood, taking a final swig from the bottle. “Back to it I suppose.”

 

Sean and Major Smith had taken over one of the semi-private alcoves on the Main Lido Deck. The table was littered with Sean’s numerous reports, sketches, photographs, calculations, and itineraries. Major Smith acknowledged Silber and Martin with a glance, but paid them no heed as he and Sean flipped through a folder labeled “Robért – Other.”

“So this Spectrum panel is just a highly advanced solar panel covered with a layer of engineered glass to magnify the light reaching the panel,” Major Smith glared at the report with his beady eyes.

“Correct. In addition the Spectrum panel can harness various forms of radiation, thermal energy, and acoustic shock. These are so efficient, they can provide the ship’s power even in conditions solar panels would never work.” Sean explained.

“Robért manufactures these from his miraculous sci-fi metal…” The Major pouted. “Is there anything that can be replicated without this damn Tatinite?”

“They’d be terribly inefficient and very expensive. But I believe a titanium alloy could be developed.”

“Right.” Smith muttered. “Very well, you’ve still provided a tremendous amount of information. Good work, you’ve earned that promotion. You will return to your mission in France, Italy, or wherever it is you’ve been so productive.”

“I was under the impression I would be returning to the university. For the lab…?”

“Not yet,” Smith flipped to a small collection of plans and photographs of the Royal Spanish Cruise Line’s Galeon-class. “You said Robért had some hand in the design and construction, but the thing doesn’t use Spectrum panels. And I still want to know how a solar-powered ship with no solar panels functions.”

“Yes Sir.” Sean barked. Major Smith turned to leave.

“Have you considered the use of photosynthetic paint?” Silber prompted with a sly smirk.

Major Smith wheeled around.

“WHAT!?” He and Sean spat in unison.

“Hmmm, just a thought…” Silber nodded, and he and Martin continued on their way.

“Well it would have to be Tatinite-based. Which means we’re hogtied.” Sean could be heard saying.

“Figure it out, Sergeant! You may have your promotion, but you still have your job to do! Do it!” Smith thundered and stomped away.

Martin chuckled.

“Army guys are hilarious,” Silber smirked.

 

 

Joe Bennett shut his foot locker with a sigh. Looking out the window he could see the tenders approaching the side of the Savoie.

“Oh cheer up, would you?” Shane Matthews gave Bennett a playful slap on the ass. “You’ll get his big Marine Corp. cock back in your- HMMPH!!” Brent Charles clamped his hand over Matthews’ mouth.

“Now now, mind your language boy.” Charles held Matthews’ head tightly against his firm barrel chest.

“MMMmm Mmm Hmmphmm!”

Charles ignored Matthews’ frantic struggles.

“Congrats. You caught yourself a good one!” Charles nodded to the ring on Bennett’s finger.

Bennett played with the smooth metal band, smiling idly as the Marines began to disembark.

“I wish we could’ve gotten off together…”

“Oh but you did! Several times, in fac-HMMPH!”

“Shut it Matthews!” Charles gripped the sailor’s mouth with both hands now. “Or you’ll get the bit again!”

“Still… I mean we are engaged and… I…” Bennett trailed off as Nathan Vincent and Jake Jackson stepped into sight carrying their luggage. “Mmmm…”

“Those men are so hot…” Tyler Clark had joined him at the window to ogle the Marines. He licked his lips as Jackson stepped onto the tender, his plump muscles straining the fabric of his uniform. Vincent followed, his own uniform riding up slightly. He soon disappeared from sight as the tender filled up with the remaining Marines.

“Heh,” Charles swallowed a laugh as Bennett and Clark started drooling simultaneously. Matthews managed to free himself from Charles’s grip; he continued packing in silence.

“Come on boys,” Charles called after a few moments. “We’ll be up soon too! Tide’s coming in.”

Bennett nodded as the tender pulled away. He’d see his man again soon. Bennett clenched his hole, longing for Vincent’s thick manhood to be inside him again. How badly he craved to be filled like he’d been the last couple days, to feel that solid wall of muscle holding him. And feel those hot grunts against his ear… His dick swelled, pressing hard against the fabric of his briefs.

“Fuck…” Bennett adjusted himself and made himself busy tidying the room.

 

Ren Salynkos had a seat by the window. It was still stormy, but the waves had eased up some. He stole a glance at Flight Deck Officer Stewart, sitting several rows forward.

A crumpled scrap of paper with Stewart’s contact information had been tucked in Salynkos’ back pocket, and he’d been hard ever since. There’s a nail salon near my apartment, Stewart had said. We should go check it out. Together…

Salynkos gulped. Sure. I’d like that. And I’ll make some spanakopita for you…

Peep! Peep!!

The tender pulled away from the white hull of the Savoie, fighting through the waves toward Norfolk. Salynkos slumped in his seat, not looking forward to the endless appointments, medical check-ups, psych assessments, and inquiries he would be bombarded with over the next several months. Who knew when or where he’d be reassigned. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too far from his new foot buddy.

 

Boarding the Savoie had been fast, efficient, nothing more than a surreal blur. Disembarking and landing at Norfolk had been a different story. The tenders had a slow, rough journey into the harbor. A moderate rain now pelted Quinn-Timothy James and Caleb Bradley as they stood in line at the pier waiting for the busses to take them on to their temporary accommodation.

“It’s quarantine,” Bradley muttered. “We’re going to be studied like mice.”

“Yes. It’s procedure, you know that.” James whispered back.

“I’d really like to, you know, hold you.” Bradley whimpered, discreetly taking James’ hand in his. “It won’t be easy if we’re being watched.” He grimaced.

“You sure you want to keep that cage on? Bradley, really it’s ok if you-”

“No.” Bradley squeezed James’s hand. “I want to. I just need to get used to it.”

“It… It doesn’t hurt, does it?” James caressed Bradley’s palm.

“It doesn’t hurt, no. It’s just different.” Bradley shrugged. “It helps keep my mind on you. The A.I. is nice too, I was worried the plug would make me leak pre all over myself but then the dickplug goes in and it’s all good.”

“Damn…” James turned to hide his own leaking bulge. “Well if you’re sure…”

“Absolutely.” Bradley faced James as the bus pulled up to the curb. “Hundred percent, you and me.”

“Move along now!” The officers barked down the line. “Get on the bus! Quickly quickly, we don’t have all day!”

The unlikely lovers stooped down to collect their luggage. Bradley snuck a kiss onto James’ mouth.

“I love you, man.”

 

“That’s everyone now,” Captain Savoie announced as the last tenders and helicopters departed. “Time to get you back to your cruise.”

Jonathan Silber nodded. He, Roger, Nelson, Sean, and Tony exchanged wistful glances as the Savoie began to speed east. Black clouds flashed by, towering waves rolled over the horizon. But the Savoie remained smooth and steady, as if it was secured to the Earth itself.

“It’s all just electromagnetic energy…” Sean mused.

“We’ll be just in time for dinner,” Martin informed the group.

“Will we be in time for the aperitifs?” Roger asked dryly.

“Like you care,” Martin chuckled.

Roger rolled his eyes.

“Ha, even Martin gets you now.” Silber smirked.

“Yeah yeah,” Roger flopped into a seat at the front of the lounge. “Hey where’d Nelson go?”

“Oh he slunk out minutes ago,” Silber waved dismissively. “I imagine he wanted some, uh, alone time with the twins.”

“Tsk tsk,” Roger shook his head. “I don’t understand it. They aren’t real, you know?”

“What is real, anyway?” Silber took a glass of wine from the bar and sat next to Roger.

Captain Savoie and Martin retreated to the back of the lounge.

“That went well, Captain.” Martin took a bite of a rum-soaked biscotti. “Good job.”

Captain Savoie shrugged. “Of course it did.”

“Whatever happened with the Eclairs they dispatched?”

“Just an exercise. Those little boats do listen to me.”

“Hon hon, of course…”

“The world is yours, Monsieur.”

Martin blinked away a tear.

“Are you sure you want to return to the V3? And all those vultures? Why not stay with me, have a real vacation. The Americans will do their tests, but they never have to know you’re aboard.”

“Tempting, Captain… You know I could stay with you forever and never have another care in the world,” Martin sighed. “Not yet though.”

“As you wish.”

Stormy Atlantic skies soon gave way to the clear colorful skies of a Mediterranean summer evening. The white modern hull of the V3 shone out against the backdrop of Port Vendres. Like before, the Savoie pulled up alongside its smaller fleetmate and rolled out a single gangway from the embarkation deck.

“Welcome back,” Martin finished his drink and led the group to the open door. “After you.”

Silber and Roger stepped onto the gangway.

“That was so fast,” Nelson panted from behind.

“There you are!” Roger scolded.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Silber smirked at Nelson’s slightly disheveled appearance, and numerous hickeys.

“Oh yes!” Nelson straightened his shirt. “Those two are a dream come true. In fact… After this cruise, they’ve invited me to stay aboard the Savoie with them. You two are welcome too.”

“Wow, a dream come true indeed.” Roger sauntered toward the V3. “But I think- GAHHH!” Roger jumped over the threshold, shivering in shock from the freezing air curtain. “Nevermind, I’ll take the cabin next to yours…”

“It’s hard to return to reality,” Nelson grimaced as he stepped through the frigid blast of air. “But now we can relax and enjoy ourselves.”

“Mm hm,” Silber agreed as the spartan decor of the V3’s reception room greeted his view with its white plaster and polished concrete. Men in suits gathered at their tables hunched over their tablets and phones, desperately searching for answers.

“Not me,” Sean noticed the Galeon anchored about a mile away. “I’m getting back to it. See you guys around.”

Champagne and pastis began to circulate with small brie tartlets.

Silber hadn’t gotten a bite when Burberry’s handsome fair-haired companion approached him and Roger.

“Aye mates, thank you for whatever you guys did. He’s been… Agreeable for once!”

“Yeah, ‘mate?’” Roger put his arm around the younger man’s solid shoulders. “How would you like a demonstration?”

“Uh, sure! I’m game!”

“Silber-?”

“In the bag, everything you’ll need.”

“Right.” Roger winked. “So mate, you don’t have any dinner plans do you?”

Silber smiled to himself as Roger took his new friend toward their cabin. The heavy gangway door clanked shut behind him. Taking a sip of champagne, Silber peered through the window just as the Savoie retracted the gangway. The huge Superliner shimmered in the sun, and disappeared like a cloud of steam in the wind.

“I’m leading an impromptu tour of the storage vault for the AOC butter used by the ship’s patisserie,” Martin called over his shoulder. “Care to join? There’s samples, and a special dessert wine for your trouble.”

“How could I say no?”

 

Norfolk, Virginia…

The Admiral narrowed his eyes against the drizzle and wind-swept spray from the pier. Peering out to the sea, he could see the ghostly silhouettes of the two Comte-class Superliners sitting just at the edge of the fog. His eyes swept slowly along their sleek, stylish lines, their ethereal beauty beckoning his attention again and again. Like two sirens with their fatal love songs… Until the fog once again hid them from sight.

A faraway signal horn reached his ears; the Comte de Vannes was departing. Having hosted an endless number of formal galas and tours for the highest members of the government, military top brass, and the press, the dazzling flagship was now returning to France no doubt for even more glamorous fanfare.

The Admiral watched through the gloom as the elegant white vessel turned gracefully and disappeared into the fog again, leaving only the briefest flutter of the French Tricolor flashing through the gray.

“Admiral.”

The Admiral nodded an acknowledgement of his new Chief Petty Officer.

“Admiral, congratulations on your return and new elite unit…” The young officer trailed off at The Admiral’s gaze. “Right. Straight to business.”

“…And?”

“The Pentagon has approved-”

“And?”

“The President will-”

“Next.”

“Your unit is going to-”

“Approved. Next.”

“Construction-”

“Yes Williamson, I know. What else?”

“All 7,485 men involved have been cleared for return to work. Effective-”

“Excellent.” The Admiral smiled. “Exactly as predicted…”

“Yes Admiral.” Williamson followed his superior’s unblinking gaze upon the Comte de Savoie. He scrolled hastily through the notes on his tablet. “Robért has agreed for-”

“Robért agreed?”

“Robért agreed.”

The Admiral’s smile twisted wider. Williamson put down his tablet, and stared quietly as the Savoie ebbed in and out of sight like a white phantom haunting the mist.

“Willamson!”

“Yes Admiral!” Williamson snapped to attention. “Your orders, Sir?”

“Prepare the fleet and coordinate with the Air Force. Have Commanders Johnson and Daniels assemble a team of specialists at once. And get this eyesore out of my sight.” The Admiral nodded toward the wrecked hulks of the carrier and its two escorts.

“Yes Admiral!”

“I hope you like Italian cuisine, Chief Petty Officer, because you’re going to be eating a hell of a lot of it.”

“Admiral, I-”

“The Comte de Savoie is our new toy, graciously on loan from Martin Robért himself… It would be terribly rude of us not to play with it.”

“War games, Sir?”

“Yes, Williamson,” The Admiral turned away from the pier with a light chuckle. “You’ll find out very soon just how seriously I like my fun. Report to me here tomorrow at 0500 hours. And find me someone who can give us a proper uniform!”

“Yes Admiral!”

A car pulled up to take The Admiral to his new office. He had a lot of work to do…

The End

Metal would like to thank the author, Cutieboy90, for this story! If you liked it be sure to read Buying Love and Bro to Ho, which include some of the same characters.