Flak Bait Part 3
Michael Goldman lay on his side in the snow again, weakly trying to stuff his spilled intestines back into his slim belly. His eyes stared at the single eye in the end of his severed penis resting on a pink patch nearby.
"Dad," he whispered, "M...Mo...Mom. Mom!" Mike blinked his eyes as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. God, it was just a dream, a nightmare! He silently rolled over to stare at Lydia, his `pet' spider as she worked on her web over his head, slightly illuminated by the waning glow that filtered through the small window in the cellar where he hid from the enemies that wanted to kill him. He'd been rescued, but he chafed at the forced inactivity of the last few weeks. His Air-Corps instructors had taught him how to shoot, how to lead his targets, but not what to do when shot down.
And then there was Paul. Paul was avoiding him. He'd been the only person Mike could talk to, had seen to all his needs. That was the problem. Paul had even brought him a sexual release and he had hurt Paul by reacting badly to it. He so wanted to take that night back, to do it over again, make things right for the other boy who risked so much by sheltering him. The whole house seemed on edge around him now. Even Jean, who had carried him here, looked at him with what could only be described as hatred in his eyes.
The sounds of life over his head slowly died away in the gathering darkness as he lay on the pallet and flexed his left leg to ease the slight stiffness that remained from his injury. He was healing fast, but the new scar tissue imbedded in his thigh made itself known every now and then when he stretched it.
Mike cautiously rose and padded his way to the squeaky stairs and made his way through the dark to the entrance to the kitchen. "Paul?" he asked quietly.
"No! No, no. shh!" Paul's mom whispered as she met him and blocked his way into the house, shooing him back downstairs to his hiding place.
"May I please speak to Paul?" he pleaded to her as he returned to where he'd started; "Please, I've got to talk to him." His voice shook in frustration.
"Paul?" she asked, with a quizzical look on her face.
"Yes! Yes, please, Paul." He hoped he was getting through. He had to get through!
She shushed him again as she turned to leave. Mike just buried his face in his arms when he fell back onto his bedding. He'd failed! He was alone here just as much as he'd been alone in the woods. He felt the dark room close around him. He almost laughed through the alarm he felt; the room should be nothing compared to the little turret he'd wormed his way into every day in the past.
He welcomed the wash of lantern light as it descended the stairs. He was happy for any light in his dark cell. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and focus as he recognized Paul and Jean. Paul's features were streaked with fear; Jean didn't look at him at all as he sat on the steps to block the way.
"My mother says you must not come up again," Paul began nervously. "We may be watched...seen. You leave soon, I think."
"Thank you. I just wanted to.... When?" Mike breathed in relief.
"When? Maybe soon." Paul shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave.
"No, don't go!" Mike pleaded. "I don't know. Can you stay? I want to talk to you, say I'm sorry. I've missed having you to talk to."
The two boys sat in silence, just staring at the reflected light in each other's eyes as each tried to think of a way to breach the wall that had risen between them.
"I'm sor...," both began sheepishly, "No, I...." "I...."
"I go first!" Paul couldn't help but giggle a little at their exchange and watched a smile break through Mike's features.
"I am sorry for what I did," Paul continued. "It was too much. Not right." He felt a lump in his throat as his eyes welled a little.
"No, it's nothing for you to be sorry about." Mike reached out and touched Paul's cheek momentarily, forcing Paul to look at him. "It's me who should be sorry. I was surprised, that's all. Honest! I didn't mind."
Jean suddenly issued a disgusted snort and quietly laughed as he and Paul became involved in a rapid exchange Mike had no hope of following. He was puzzled to see Paul blush; his smooth cheeks seemed to glow in the lamplight.
"What did he say?" Mike jerked his head towards Jean.
"He says we are being very dumb...stupid." Paul's eyes seemed to glow with the rest of him. "He says he has seen enough of us and we should kiss already. I say you are not that way. He says you are. I don't know."
"I don't know," Mike echoed as he tried to hide from Jean's eagle-like gaze. "Maybe?"
Paul drew in a deep breath; his eyes darted from Mike to Jean and back. Jean had verbally taken him to task over his feelings for the American. He'd been shocked by Jean's forwardness, but realised the older man hated to watch others playing games when love and life could disappear suddenly.
"I think maybe...I love you?" Paul said it in a rush and ducked his head, waiting for the explosion he was sure would follow.
"What?" Mike's eyes grew wide. "Why? How? Like in the movies?" His heart was beating hard. Part of him wanted to run away as fast as he could, the rest kept him where he was. "I don't know." He saw hurt flash through Paul. "I mean... I don't know how. I've never been with anyone before like this."
Paul hesitated a moment and leaned in, clasped Mike's hands in his own and pressed his closed lips to Mike's cheek.
Jean let out another derisive snort. These two were unbelievable! "No, No!" He smiled wickedly at the two. "Like this, Paul!" He quickly crossed the space between them, grabbed Paul by his head, and pressed his open mouth against the surprised boy's.
Paul's eyes shone like huge saucers in the dim light, but he found himself slowly responding to the brief embrace.
"Like that, stupid boy." Jean quickly moved away. "The rest is for you to discover!" He turned and pounded up the stairs, laughing as he went. If those two needed a shock to stop their stupid games, then he was more than happy to oblige! The ache in his groin reminded him of the attraction he actually felt for the two boys, but his heart still belonged to another he would never see again. No, this should be their time together. He would no longer interfere. He'd hated the American for hurting Paul, but had recognized the game when he saw it. The rest was up to them.
"What was all that about?" Mike fought back the twinge of jealousy that coursed through him. His reaction threw him into confusion again. Jealousy? That was crazy! Why was he jealous? He can't be having those kinds of feelings! It isn't right! He looked at Paul's silent wide eyes. "Oh, fuck it!"
"I'm sorry," Paul slowly brought his attention back from the shock of Jean's act. "Jean does not like how I kiss?" He shrugged his shoulders, remembering to blink. His eyes and throat felt dry as he leaned in again toward Michael and found his lips.
Mike stiffened. "I can't believe I'm...Mummph." The rest was cut off by Paul. What was Paul trying to do? He felt a tongue pierce between his lips to scrape against his teeth. He couldn't help but giggle as he pulled back suddenly and wiped his mouth unconsciously. "What was that?"
"It is what Jean showed me," Paul smiled back in embarrassment. He made a face; Mike tasted terrible! He decided to ask his mother for a way for Michael to clean his mouth! But until then, "We try again. You do as I do."
Mike did as he was told, and returned the embrace to ease his shaking. Electricity shot through him as he let his hands roam over the farm boy's warm muscular back. His fingers traced lightly over the ridges and valleys of Paul's spine and he shuddered at the hands on his own back.
Paul broke away, laughing quietly so he wouldn't disturb the rest of the house. "Good?"
"Yes! Great!" Mike lay back on the blankets and immediately became aware of his hard penis flipping over the leg of his shorts. He laughed uncertainly himself as he hurriedly pushed the hem down over his member. "Eh, well I...."
"I think I know you," Paul's eyes twinkled as he reached under the hem and grabbed Mike in his fist. "There is no hiding. We all see already."
Mike had to agree with that. He hid no secrets from his new friend. He let his hand trail up Paul's leg to the end of the shorts he wore to bed. He couldn't see into the darkness of the opening, but could imagine what lay inside. His hand finally completed its journey when he encountered the soft skin of Paul's slightly hairy testicles hanging loosely below a hot shaft. The wiry feeling was so much like his own, but so different as well. He saw Paul react to the new sensations going through his body and smiled. He was amazed at how comfortable he felt as all the objections in his mind were torn away. He was glad to return the favor he'd received once before from the boy sitting next to him in the near dark.
"Paul?" his mother called cautiously from the top of the stairs.
Both boys instantly moved away from each other, straightening their shorts and willing the pronounced bulges gone.
"I must go to sleep." Paul gave up trying to hide his state. His mother had seen him aroused many times and had accepted it as normal for a boy. He only hoped she wouldn't know the cause of it. "We spend more time tomorrow, yes?"
"Yes," Mike whispered back and smiled. His groin hurt. He'd self-conciously refrained from any contact with his aroused penis for so long, it felt like the skin was so tight it would split. He closed his eyes as Paul left and the room descended into complete blackness. Paul filled his mind's eye as he began stroking himself to release. He imagined his friend doing the same upstairs over his head. When his release came, it seemed to gush from his soul. He had no idea when it actually stopped. When he rolled over to drift off to sleep, he could feel small dribbles still flowing through his softening flesh.
Paul's mother looked at him as he stepped into the kitchen. She absently rubbed his shoulder when she blocked his way. "He will be leaving soon," she whispered to him.
"Yes, mother. I know." Paul's voice cracked nervously. How much did she know?
"I think you need to check the barn." She glanced dramatically at the front of Paul's bedclothes and smiled at the ever present bulge they showed. "Make sure it is closed."
Paul started at her innocuous request. The hay in the barn had always been his private place to relieve his tension ever since he accidentally learned what happened when the skin of his penis was rubbed.
"Yes, mama." He quietly reached for his coat and shoes. He guessed they really had no secrets at all within the confines of the small farmhouse. She'd understand why he wouldn't need his trousers for this small chore. _________________________________________________________________________________________
Jean quietly moved down the overgrown path through the dense wood blocking the moonlight. He'd delivered the stolen clothing. It had been stolen from a collaborator's house soon after the American's release. That had directed the Germans' search to the west. He'd waited until safe, then delivered the package.
He smiled to himself savagely; the visit also enabled a bit of revenge on his part. The man's son had been cute, sleeping in his bed. It was a shame he'd set out his swastika-adorned Hitler Youth uniform by his bed; he then would have just been an orphan, not dead like his parents. He was glad the American boy had already been sentenced to die by the enemy. They would blame him for any more deaths that occurred. It made Jean's quest all the easier for revenge against those who'd singled out the sweet youth he'd loved.
The dull sound of truck brakes squealing through the trees and a dog bark brought Jean to a stop against the nearest trunk. He couldn't see, but listened intently to try to ascertain the direction the troops were going once they'd disembarked from the transports. He silently slipped away toward the farmhouse he'd just left. The patrol was moving toward the farmhouse as well and sounded too large to be just a search party. He moved faster. He had to give the family as much time to escape as possible before the enemy had time to surround the house. How did they know? Jean was certain he'd not been followed. Someone had talked to the enemy! He was sure of it!
Paul's dad was instantly awake and stared at Jean's face close to his own. He felt his wife also come awake.
"Hurry! Get dressed! The Germans!" Jean hissed urgently.
"Jean! Wake up Paul and have him help you move the supplies to hide Michael." The old man was standing in the room immediately.
"No. No, Richard!" Jean had to make Paul's father understand. "It's not a search party. They are coming for all of you."
"All right, Jean." Richard let out a slow breath and looked at his wife. They'd known this could happen at any moment. He`d been married to her for twenty years and knew they would face this together. Their only fear was for Paul. That they would also lose their fifteen year old son was unthinkable. "Go, wake up Paul and Michael and get them to dress warmly. Use my coat! Then I want you to take them along the route we had discussed."
"But what about you?" Jean asked, already fearing the answer.
"We will stay to allow our son to escape," Richard stated his and his wife's certain death as if it was nothing. "As well as you and the American." He caught Jean in his hard gaze. "But say nothing of this to Paul. He would stay with us, but there is nothing he can do here but die as well. Now go!"
He gazed at his wife with a deep burning love. He knew he could leave and survive, but she could not. Her health had deteriorated over the past few years. He would never leave his truest friend and lover. They shared their life and now would share death as well, but Paul would live and love in their place. He and his wife both knew that their name would die with Paul; he would never marry, but their prayer was only that he live and find happiness with someone. Even if it was the American boy!
"Paul, get up!" Jean roughly shook the youth. "Get dressed and help with Michael. The Germans are coming to search. We must hide in the woods!"
"Won't the Germans miss me?" Paul asked groggily.
"No!" Jean winked conspiratorially. "You have taken food to the monks at Saint Dominic and stayed the night!" He slapped Paul's rear as he left for the cellar. "The good friars love that small ass of yours." He stopped suddenly, embarrassed by his sacrilege. "I mean your donkey." He looked guiltily at Paul, who just laughed at his joke. "Hurry! And bring your father's coat. He wants the American to use it until it is safe to return!"
Paul finished shrugging into his own coat as he descended the stairs to help Mike get dressed. He found Mike was already dressed in his `new' tan heavy wool clothes. They were well made and almost fit. Though they had been tailored for someone a little smaller, they would do. Mike looked like a boy in the process of outgrowing them, but hadn't yet. The boots Mike slipped into were too big, however. Whoever the clothes had belonged to would be...No, Paul shuddered as he remembered Jean's tale to his father, ...would have grown tall.
A dog barking in the distance brought the three of them scrambling up the stairs. They met Paul's father, who handed a second machine pistol and numerous full clips to Jean.
"Papa? You will be all right?" Paul had no idea where it had come from, but Its appearance made him uneasy.
"Yes, you will be home soon." Richard lied to his boy. "Now kiss your mother and go!"
Paul's mother embraced and kissed him lightly, the experienced diplomat's wife showing only the appropriate emotions, and shooed the three out into the cold dark night. When she was sure the three would not return, she leaned heavily on her husband and let the tears flow freely as she examined her own weapon. "Goodbye, Paul," she whispered for the both of them. "Be happy, my son."
Paul glanced back at the dark house as he and the others made their way to the treeline, hugging the shadows as they went. The moon briefly broke through the low clouds, a full blood red ball low in the sky. The partial blue ring of icy air surrounding it lent a feeling of unreality to the situation.
He should be with his mother and father, but they had ordered him away. He didn't know why. He'd faced searches by the enemy before. He could understand Jean taking Michael, but why him as well?
His attention was diverted away from his thoughts when he tripped over a root and scrambled to keep his balance. He vowed to concentrate on where he placed his feet as Jean's angry warning to be quiet was whispered into his ear.
He couldn't see Mike behind him, but felt his presence close by. They both wanted to ask Jean where they were going to hide, but Jean had made it known that wasn't the time to speak, just follow.
Paul didn't know how long they'd been traveling; it could have been hours but was more likely just minutes. An eruption of heavy machine gun fire, far behind them, brought Paul to a sudden stop.
"What was that?" he whispered urgently to Jean as the others approached where he stood. "Papa?...Momma?" He turned suddenly back toward the dim sounds, an anguished wail building. "Momma! ...Momma! No! ...N...N...No!" He broke and began running back the way they had come.
"Paul! Wait!" Jean quickly tackled the light youth as Mike looked on, mute to what they were saying, although the look on his face made it clear he knew what the gunfire meant. "It is what they wanted!" Jean hissed and placed his hand tightly over Paul's mouth to stifle the inarticulate screams of boundless pain that emerged from the boy's convulsing body. "It is all right! They loved you enough to give you everything they could!" Jean stoically withstood the wailing boy's hard punches to his back as he held him down.
Suddenly he saw Mike on the ground beside Paul, fiercely placing his head between them on the boy's chest and hugging him tightly around the waist.
Mike felt his own tears flow as what he'd fought for came closer to him than he'd ever thought it would. His own family was safe with an entire ocean between them and the war he was involved in. They had to win! He had to win! He knew then that he would never let any more pain crash upon Paul's - no...his lover's - world, not if he had the power to stop it! He squared his back to absorb his share of the hard mindless blows directed his way!
End of Part 3
My sincere thanks to ED for his kind assistance with this story. Great job on all the other chapters I've sent you from my other stories, ED! As usual, let me know what you think. This is my first attempt at a historical setting. Hopefully not too many anachronisms. (grin)
Thanks. Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)