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Trapper took a slow breath in the darkness of the linen tent, unsure if he should speak. Unsure if he could speak with every nerve on high alert. He stood as still as possible, listened for the sound of footsteps, of the jiggling door handle, of anything above the pounding of blood in his ears. This was not the usual kind of assignation that would be inconvenienced by an interruption, this was the kind that could end the world as he knew it.
“Hawk-” left his lips at barely more than a whisper as he felt the presence of the man who stepped up silently behind him.
“Ssh, right here.” came the reply as his fellow doctor’s arms slid loosely around him. Trapper let himself be held for a few long moments, willing his nerves to stop jangling, letting himself relax slightly against Hawkeye’s reassuring warmth.
“You sure?” Hawkeye whispered into his ear. Trapper didn’t speak right away, but grasped Hawkeye’s hand in his and slid it downward from his stomach to feel the burgeoning erection in his pants. He stifled a gasp as Hawkeye’s dextrous fingers stroked his penis firmly through layers of cotton and canvas, his little captain quickly snapped to attention under that strong caress. Hawkeye’s warm breath on his neck carrying a hint of gin, the fear of being discovered, the utter blackness of the tent, the scent of fresh linens, absolutely every stupid little thing seemed to stoke his arousal.
In the darkness Hawkeye slipped away. Trapper followed him silently down the aisle between the racks stacked with bedding. The touch of a hand on his chest stopped him, then invited him downwards. A couple of misappropriated mattresses covered over with a blanket cushioned them from the cold floor. The tiny nook between the shelving units and the tent wall felt almost private.
Trapper laid himself down alongside Hawkeye slowly, arousal and fear still fighting and stoking one another ever higher. He reached out tentatively but Hawkeye’s strong hands had begun to slide under his shirt, tantalizing John with touches as his shirt was pulled over his head and dropped to the floor. He lifted his butt to help the other man slide his pants down, pulling his boxers with them. The cold air was a shock to his flushed, sweaty skin.
But not as much of a shock as Hawkeye’s mouth on his dick. He grabbed at the man, threaded his fingers into that thick dark hair as he squelched the sounds that wanted to escape his chest as best as possible. Trapper’s breathing became increasingly ragged as Hawkeye worked him, stroking and sucking with fervor, bobbing so low his nose was buried in blond curls. Until, with a thin strangled sound and a tightening of grip on Hawkeye with both hands and thighs, Trapper came.
Aftershocks trembled through his body as Hawkeye’s tongue cleaned his cock. The man slowly pulled away, letting Trapper’s penis slip free of his lips before stretching his lanky frame back onto the makeshift bed.
For a while, there was no sound in the darkness but their own breathing. Trapper felt languid, wrung out like an army sock, but he rolled to his right and surprised Hawkeye with a fumbling kiss. Hawkeye was still initially, clearly not expecting any such gesture, but quickly responded. It was a new experience for Trapper, a kiss with both the unfamiliar roughness of stubble and the familiar taste of moonshine gin in someone else’s mouth.
Lying face to face in the dark, Hawkeye shuffled his own pants down and pulled Trapper closer to him. Trapper could feel the hot length of Hawkeye’s hard penis against his thigh, sending a jolt of taboo excitement down his spine and straight into his own dick. Hawkeye’s hand slipped in between their bodies, stroking Trapper to full erection, while his other hand fumbled behind him.
Trapper gasped as Hawkeye pressed their erect cocks together, held back a cry when a hand slick with surgical lube squeezed them gently together. Hawkeye stroked slowly, letting the jelly work it’s way around, then slowly increased his pace. Trapper grabbed Hawkeye’s shoulders, steadying himself and keeping quiet despite the steadily increasing intensity of stimulation. The feeling of his cock pressed against Hawk’s, shafts slipping and sliding against each other in those big hands, the feeling when both of their heads popped out of that slick grip before being pulled back in, was almost too much to bear. He was getting damn close to coming again.
He felt Hawkeye stiffen, he’d been too absorbed in these feelings to notice his friend’s breathing becoming ragged, but Hawkeye’s grip didn’t loosen and he maintained his pace while his throbbing cock spasmed and Trapper followed over that ledge almost immediately.
They tried to pant as quietly as possible in the dark. Trapper felt a towel pressed into his hands and quickly wiped himself down with it. He would’ve liked to bask in that satisfied warmth a while, but both of them knew the longer they lingered the more likely they’d be discovered. The only sound was the rustle of cloth as the two men fixed their disheveled clothes. The bedding was returned to the shelves with speed, folded haphazardly and wedged onto the bottom shelf next to their little meeting place.
The moonlight seemed painfully bright when they stepped outside. All was quiet, but they kept their voices low anyway. Catching their breathes in the cool air before they’d part ways to return to the Swamp from seperate directions, as planned.
“You surprised me, didn’t think you’d go in for that.” The sex had been planned, the kiss had not. No strings, just satisfying a niggling curiosity with a trusted friend who knew the ropes.
“Well, at the time, it didn’t seem quite right not to.” Trapper said sheepishly, running his hand through his curls. Hawkeye nodded in a satisfied way, as if to say ‘Fair enough.’
“I uh, never had um- one of those that was so… intense.” The night was cool enough that Trapper’s breath was just visible in the moonlight. He could just tell Hawkeye was smirking in the dark.
“Fear is one hell of a spice!” said Hawkeye as he clapped Trapper on the back in a companionable manner. Trapper watched him as he walked away from the linen tent toward the left, then made his own exit toward the right. They’d arrive at the Swamp at different times, from different directions, and Frank would be none the wiser that they hadn’t been on seperate dates.
Nonetheless Trapper imagined he could feel eyes on him, that anyone who did lay eyes on him would instantly know what he’d been doing. He pulled his jacket collar up and tried to walk a little faster without looking like he was hurrying.
“I don’t think it’s the spice for me.”