Flak Bait Part 6 The End.
Michael Goldman stirred in the filtered light of another morning and sighed, involuntarily shifting the hair and tickling the neck of the French boy he spooned against. He ever so gently found his hands stroking Paul's smooth chest and belly as he snuggled closer, careful to avoid pressing against the purple, healing bruises outlining the other's shoulder blades. Mike started quietly, when he felt the other arm trace its way down the ridges of his spine to finally end with a slight squeeze of his ass, and cautiously raised his sleepy eyes to peer over his friend at Jean, lying next to them.
Jean gazed back reassuringly at the dark eyes of the American boy staring at him and winked his understanding of their activities. He moved his arm back over the two from where it had been and, playfully giving Pual's erect cock a gentle stroke, rolled away to take care of his morning needs. He had a few more secret meetings to attend and more `offical' counterfeit papers and travel orders to arrange for the three of them. Failing that, he knew some of the foremen in charge of various work details attached to what remained of the national rail system still operated by his countrymen, under German direction, of course.
The invaders had no idea that so many of the rail workers they'd so dutifully supervised were working against them the whole time. They never seemed to know that the dynamite used against them was their own or that the simple tools and materials needed to fashion the locally produced Sten submachine guns came from the shops they had claimed as their own after the surrender.
He couldn't help but smile as he dug through the change of clothes that had been left on a chair near the bed for them. Some of Peter's clothing would fit Paul just fine, but Michel's small frame would take more effort. He glanced down again and was relieved to see the smaller clothing that someone had found so they would all be dressed. He caught the faint wisp of cedar and guessed someone had rummaged through an old chest the family owned to find the clothes their son had outgrown.
Satisfied with his dull, nondescript appearance, he glanced over at his two naked charges before he left. They were both awake now, even though their eyes were closed in their mutual embrace as they slowly stroked each other.
"Paul." Jean smiled at the quick guilty look he received. "I will be back tonight. Do what you are told." Jean glanced down at the two hard members the boys were holding as he reluctantly turned away. "And don't make a mess." He licked his finger and slipped it between the circled fingers of his other hand, almost laughing at Paul's widening eyes.
Jean let his smile broaden into a near grin as he closed the door behind him. The two boys had conveniently swallowed the evidence of their explorations last night and he was sure his warning would be handled the same way this morning as well. He sighed quietly. Now on to the serious business of keeping them alive.
Paul smiled as he translated Jean's last statements to his American friend and he soon found himself maneuvering down to once again stare at Michael's hard cock which he held while the other flipped himself around on the bed. He reached out with his tongue to envelop the head as he fingered the loose testicles hanging across Mike's thigh. He shuddered slightly as Michael mirrored his actions, sending another wave of pleasure through his groin. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he pulled away and moistened his finger the way Jean had, before descending to completely engulf Michael. He felt the muscular cheeks af Mike's ass flex involuntarily before his finger found its target and he pushed gently inside.
Mike bucked once in surprise and came off Paul's own throbbing member to stare for a moment, his question unasked as this new invasion registered. Except for the usual barracks humor which had been over his head and the entrance physical which he'd tried to forget, the idea of receiving pleasure from that region had never occurred to him before. He grunted slightly as he involuntarily pushed down, trapping Paul's finger as it wormed its way deeper into him. He smiled briefly at the new combination of sensations before he once again surrounded Paul with his tongue and lips. He let his own hands pull Paul closer and then descend between the French boy's cheeks to copy what was happening to him. He almost laughed around the hard member stuffed in his mouth as he felt, rather than saw, Paul's tight stomach muscles convulse at his own ever deepening probe. He sucked harder when his balls tightened against his body and his own release began, the feelings overwhelming his brain as Paul's finger struck something deep within him. He barely managed to keep his friend impaled through his own release as he moved his finger within the tight confines he found it in, while he swallowed the salty fluid he was presented with.
Mike pulled away reluctantly from Paul and smiled back at his friend's flushed face. Somehow he felt a feeling of victory course through his slight body as they basked in the afterglow of another stolen moment of pleasure. He surprised himself by idly thinking of what it would feel like with Paul inside of him the same way his finger had been, but the quiet rumble from his stomach brought them both back to immediate needs with a shared chuckle.
Mike almost laughed outright as they quickly sorted through the clothes provided for them, with a few starts and stops and exchanges as one would end up with a shirt too small while the other's hung off his slight frame. Finally dressed and feeling like he looked like someone's schoolboy, they quietly padded their way to the kitchen and the family that was hiding them, for a quick bite to eat and to find out where they should hide if the house were to be searched.
It was two nights later when the family was warned of an approaching search detail and had woken the three fugitives so they could make their sleepy way to the small hidden room behind the kitchen pantry. It had been decided that the two boys would hide and that Jean would pose as a boarder in the house. He'd have been seen coming and going anyway, and had the experience dealing with both the Germans and their French fascist lackeys.
Mike sat huddled with Paul, their clothes piled under their bare bodies and one of their two submachineguns in his hands. He hoped that the meager foodstuffs the family had squirreled away in front of the hidden panel would be enough to throw off any dogs that might be with the searching enemy soldiers and policemen. Dim memories of his grandfather's Indian fighting stories flew through his mind as they waited for the bang on the door that would spell the beginning of their next trial. He reached out to pull Paul closer to him in the pitch blackness of the small area they occupied. The contact helped reassure his troubled mind as he began to feel an ever growing pressure from his bladder. He let a grim unseen smile cross his features. So much for dying with their boots on. His brain was flooded with the brief image of his naked self bursting through the wall with one gun blazing and the other pissing. He'd just have to hold it.
Paul settled silently next to his American friend, taking comfort from the warm body touching his along its length. He let his hand rest on his friend's thigh, feeling at once the cold steel tube and the warm soft fleshy one that lay underneath. He wished he could do something to help, but Jean and Michael were the trained soldiers here, not him. He could only sit and wait for whatever was going to happen to happen. He hoped the searchers would come and go quickly. They were too close and had worked so hard to be stopped now.
The last two days had been busy ones in their hidden world. Their photos had been taken and, his own unseen smile of pride crossed his face, Michael had studied very hard at understanding simple written words and directions they would come across in this final stage of their escape. Mike's accent would give them away instantly but his carefully crafted role meant he'd remain silent, with only the need to appear able to read the language he had been unfamiliar with. Thankfully, the old man they stayed with was a very patient teacher indeed and Michael, who'd professed no talent at learning other languages, had been proven wrong in his self- assessment.
Provided they survived this latest test, they'd be ready in a day to begin their next step. The only thing that Paul feared was that Jean would be separated from them when they boarded the railway that would lead them through the hills and directly to Bern and safety. The most dangerous part of the plan he could see, when it was explained to him, would be when they would have to change to the meter gauge Swiss rail train near Mulhouse and the border. It was there that any errors in the plan would unravel quickly.
Jean quietly finished replacing the last of the cover in front of the false wall and, with a quick wish to luck, scrambled back up the stairs of the dark house. He cursed the danger he'd placed the family of his former lover in as he shut the door and, with a quick scan for out of place clothing or other giveaways, slipped back between the covers of the bed.
"Julianna? Wha...?" He jerked back suddenly when he contacted the naked flesh of Peter's sister lying next to him in the dark room. For once he found himself at a loss as to what the family had planned or even if they knew where she was.
"Shh...Relax, Jean," she whispered while placing a restraining hand on his bare shoulder. "Mother thought I might provide a tremendous distraction for the Germans when they search." She batted her eyes in the dim filtered moonlight. "Just follow our lead. I know I'm not Peter, but you must fuck me."
"What?" Jean was still confused and the strange request shocked and confused him even more.
"I am your love you have come to visit." She giggled and reached between his legs to cup and fondle his naked groin to a hoped-for erection. "Think of my brother or those two pretty boys you brought, but we must have sex a while so the enemy will catch us." She leaned over and kissed his face before looking back at him. "As I said, a distraction."
Jean merely nodded and closed his eyes, thinking of Peter, and his sister's hands, though different, were also vaguely familiar as well. He soon lost himself in Peter's memory as his previously unresponsive member stiffened under the stroking it received.
Guided by her fingers, he gently rolled on top of her and began to enter as they barely heard the entrance of the enemy below them. The images of his dead lover flooded his senses momentarily as he also thought of the family that was sacrificing so much and taking such risks as well.
The bang of the opened door and sudden flood of light to the room pulled him back to the reality of the present situation as he quickly rolled off and felt himself flush involuntarily at the snickers and outraged intake of breath from the old women they'd hidden behind.
"Julianna! What is this?" The old woman bustled past the now amused soldiers, cutting off the officer's question before he had a chance to speak. "I told you he could stay and now you do this! Your father has not approved your engagement yet!" She turned quickly back to Jean, as he covered himself, the very image of an outraged mother. "And you! We let you visit our daughter and you sneak your way together!"
"Mother, please!" Julianna quickly jumped off the bed, dragging the barely concealing covers with her, revealing Jean's wet, pink semi before he quickly recovered himself with his hands. "We love each other!" She scowled back at her mother as she noticed the larger crowd of soldiers and police that had gathered with the commotion upstairs.
Jean just smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders as mother and daughter continued their increasingly heated tirade against each other. He was surprised to see the officer in charge give him a knowing smile back and mouth his request for identification which Jean was more than happy to comply with.
"Where are you from, Jean?" the officer asked the obviously chagrinned young man in the bed. He was surprised that he found it amusing to have to almost shout over the bickering family members in the room. Their sweep that night had been boring and routine until now. This would be the subject of many funny stories around his quarters. "And where are you going?"
"I first met Julianna near Epinal where I lived and worked." Jean did his best to ignore the two arguing women, couching his answer in the relationship the others thought he'd had. "I am going to join a work crew for the railway at Mulhouse. My uncle has the job for me there." He fished out his forged travel and work papers and handed them over as well. He held his breath for a moment when his small roll of money fell out as well. It wasn't that much but he worried that any amount would be enough to raise suspicion.
"You!" The old women shrieked and grabbed the small roll, thrusting it at her daughter. "Did you give him this?"
"No, madame, please?" Jean made a half-hearted grab for the money, letting his role take him over. "I saved that for the last two years. Julianna only gave me a little."
"Well, I should keep it all for the trouble you have brought into my home!" She pulled back away from her daughter. Their `audience' would have a better view now. She cringed inside at the thought of what this would do to her daughter's reputation in this small town but it had been Julianna's suggestion and she had to admit that the rest of the house had been unmolested.
"Enough!" The officer glanced at his watch impatiently. The story he'd received about the stranger staying here had been investigated to his saticfaction. Any other problem he'd have just left the family to deal with after they left, but he'd been a policeman back in Germany and was familiar with domestic disputes such as this one. "Old woman! Give him his money back and if you wish, charge him for staying like any boarder in your house." He turned back to Jean and waggled his finger disprovingly. "And you, young man. I suggest you find other lodgings in the morning."
He was smiling grimly to himself as he led his patrol back to the street, the rest of the search now forgotten. So much of what he'd had to deal with during the occupation had been new to him. He found tonight strangely comforting. It was so familiar to him, he'd dealt with similar problems many times in his past.
Michael quietly continued to tightly constrict the muscles deep in his pelvis when he heard the correct knock and the supplies being pulled away from their small enclosure. He let out the breath he felt he'd been holding and let his leg start to shake like it had when he was a nine year old dancing around to get his father's attention on their trips out into the oil fields. Somehow he'd never been able to just use the nearest bush until he started working on some of the rigs during the summers when he'd turned thirteen and entered manhood, according to his father's Rabbi.
When the wall was finally opened, he quickly passed through and proceeded to the rare indoor facilities. His embarrasment at the watching eyes following him as he walked by, tightly holding his penis, was dismissed by his need and the attitudes he'd first encountered with Paul's and now this new family. He sighed in relief as his consumption that night passed from his lower region. If they stayed any longer with these people, he'd have to watch his intake of the wine and homebrew they drank with every meal. The intermittent water supply would have required boiling in any event and that would be difficult, given the also intermittent fuel supply the family had to work with. Finished, he quietly turned and padded back to the room he shared, through the newly darkened house.
"If anything should happen...." Jean whispered while he instructed and ordered Paul as they lay by each other on the bed, his hand gently stroking Paul's soft hair, "...do not stop. You both must get away." He regarded Paul in the dim light before continuing. "You are both deeply in love with each other?"
"Yes," Paul quietly mumbled back. He figured the last was more of a statement than a question, but felt obligated to answer it anyway. "I can not imagine my life without him now."
"Good." Jean smiled as he watched Michel's nude form enter the room and, closing the door behind him, slip next to Paul. "Your parents wanted me to protect you and take you someplace safe and where you could be happy." He glanced at the two and sighed quietly before continuing. "You have found happiness but now we must find safety for the both of you."
"Thank you, Jean." Paul smiled through the reminder of his parents' wish for his life and pushed his hand under the sheet to find Mike's tight abdomen and curly pubic hair. "Would you show us other ways to show our love like you have before?"
"No." Jean chuckled slightly at the question and the honor it bestowed on him. "That will be for the two of you to discover on your own. I will only say, take your time and open each other with your fingers, be gentle and, when you are both ready, it will be something for you to share only with the boy you love."
He quietly rolled away from Paul with a final probe and squeeze of the hard member the boy was presenting the world. Oh, to be almost sixteen again instead of his war-hardened almost twenty. The ache from his chest was overshadowing the ache from his unreleased testicles as he lay thinking of his time with Peter in this very bed. Part of his mind was screaming at him that he was stupid to remain faithful to a dead boy and his memory, as he listened to the quiet, cautious, yet frantic lovemaking of the two boys next to him, but faithful he remained. It was what he clung to, to keep his humanity intact as he risked his life and found himself killing.
The three young men made their escape into the cool dawn of another dark April morning. Jean instinctively glanced around as they proceeded through the dark silent streets toward the center of the small town where their contact waited near the old brick train station.
Jean waved them forward silently as they soon left the street farther behind them. He began to breathe a little easier; the farther away they got from Peter's family, the safer that family would become. Julianna's performance still bothered him. She'd now be considered a loose woman in the town once the story was circulated and he hated the thoughts of abuse and rape that flooded his mind.
He glanced quickly over his shoulder to check on the two behind him as he slipped next to the recessed wooden door of the ancient looking house. He was satisfied by the effect projected by the two boys. Michel's ears had been bandaged and that, in combination with the worn clothes of a young gentleman schoolboy and Paul leading him, would fit their story very well. Now all they needed to complete the deception was about to fall into their hands. He could only hope that it worked, Except for his knife, they would be unarmed and alone from this point forward. In fact he would find himself separated from his charges until they boarded the train. He also hoped that the two boys, once on their own, would be smart enough to pull this off. The busy station and bored, tired staff he wanted to slip past would help immensely.
Jean tensed slightly at the answering knock just before their local contact opened the door to admit the three of them into the comfortable confines of the three hundred year old residence. Now they would see how well the forger had done in changing the stolen Swiss passports of a sixty year old banker and his unfortunate wife into the ones the two boys would carry with them.
Paul swallowed back his nervousness as he watched the man at the desk in the station quickly rub his eyes before resuming his perusal of the papers spread out before him. The man quickly stamped the forms and, gathering them up, handed the pile back to the two youths along with their change for the passage. He was getting used to the story he heard from the unhurt one of the two. The shorter one of the two had traveled to visit relatives with his friend only to fall victim to a random bomb from the air. He could see no evidence of falsehood about these two boys and, besides, it wasn't his problem to deal with. Let the guards at the border investigate deeper if they wished. He was too busy.
Paul quickly recovered their documents and stuffed Michael's into his `numbed' boyfriend's jacket pocket. Grabbing Mike by the arm, he led him out onto the platform, past the small waiting locomotive and into the waiting crowd of people hoping for space within the small number of wooden, two axle passenger coaches waiting for them. He was dismayed to see the German guards examining the papers again of everybody that boarded the cars, and couldn't help but hang back slightly as the crowd filed in to find seats.
He was just reaching to once again retrieve their passes and tickets when the guard they'd been approaching waved them off and directed them and a few others back toward some open gondola cars partialy filled with various freight items they could only guess at. The guards unceremoniously gestured for those remaining to climb aboard the open cars.
The last few well dressed couples quickly backed away, content to wait for another chance on another train later that day or the next day. Paul guided Mike up and into the proffered car along with a few other, mostly young, men willing to travel that way, and quickly found a sheltered spot toward the back, hidden among the tarp covered boxes and other machinery the car carried.
He jerked suddenly in surprise at being joined by another but sighed audibly when he saw Jean take the remaining space they occupied in the lee of the front railing. He'd been so nervous inside he hadn't even dared the risk of looking for Jean's form while going through the unfamiliar procedure of travel by rail. With luck, the next time they'd have to move would be when they changed to a Swiss operated railway at the border near Basel.
Mike stared dumbly ahead as they jerked into motion and started their way into the bright sunlit green hills around them. The area was remarkably beautiful, but then so was a coral snake. Very beautiful, with a deadly hidden poison underneath. Eventually he hoped one day to visit when things had settled out, but for now the farther away they got, the happier he'd be.
He remained silent, now firmly into his act. What could he say now that he hadn't already shared with Paul, and how could he do it until they were alone again. He soon found his eyelids grow heavy and, not caring about the countryside that passed by the car, soon relaxed to the swaying into a fitful nap.
Mike awoke to more clatter and banging as the train slowly approached to come to another stop. He could only hope that this time it would be where they would disembark to change to the Swiss-owned train that would take them across the border finally. He was glad to raise and stretch and follow Paul's direction as the passengers who'd been riding with them had gotten out of the car. Soon the two boys found themselves once again separated from Jean and in another small queue that advanced on the border checkpoint.
Once again, Paul produced the papers and passports they carried with them and handed them over to the clerk watching them. The man quietly went about his business and asked the same questions of them as before and, stamping the right forms in the right places, waved them through to the adjacent platform where the meter gauge Swiss train was waiting patiently for its own load of people and freight.
The SS officer quietly followed behind the two boys he'd spotted with his men while he was behind the counter. The taller of the two was normal in evey way but the short boy sparked something in his memory he wanted to look at again. He'd seen the passports the two had presented and found nothing wrong there but the boy's features and body language were feeding a slightly growing unease. It would be an easy matter to determine, just have them drop their pants to show their penises and then let them go or take them into the woods. Either way it would be over soon. He silently reached out his arm to stop the two.
The scream from behind him stopped his actions as he spun on the new possible threat. He was shocked to see the young man standing on a baggage cart brandishing a bloody knife and beginning to sing the Marseilles. He and his men raced back toward the young man as the bloody body of another guard lying at his feet drew all their attention.
Paul spun at the commotion and spun Mike as well. The two boys watched dumbly as they briefly made eye contact with Jean, standing up with his bloody knife. He almost seemed to be smiling at the two as they continued to back away and stop at the last passenger coach of the Swiss train. Then Jean seemed to launch himself at the other approaching guards as he reacted to the impact of the bullets that found their mark from the screaming and scattering crowd that sought refuge from the confrontation.
Jean lay on the ground smiling. He'd first seen the German about to stop the boys and had sprung without thinking. When the bullets had come, he'd also seen the two board the train that was now on the other side of the border. His smile broadend into a feeble grin as his sight dimmed and the pain from his wounds was replaced by Peter's loving embrace, pulling him away from his world of pain and deeper into his lover's heart. He was with Peter now and at peace.
Mike sat quietly in his seat, watching the dark countryside roll past their open window. They had crossed to safety at some time, he didn't know for certain when, and he didn't know what lay ahead of them. He supposed some type of internment until the war was over, but they were together, would be together, of that he was sure. He felt his own tears begin to match the ones that Paul was quietly shedding and squeezed him closer as they rode into the dark night and toward a new day.
The End!!!
My thanks to ED for his assistance with this story and to Steve for his ideas for finishing it. Thanks, guys!
I usually ask for comments at the end of my story chapters but why bother with this one. The story is OVER! If anyone actually read this story I don't know it and I'm glad I just got it over with. I don't think I'll bother with stories with a historical setting any more. It's too difficult to write and nobody reads them anyway. So at the end of this story, let me just say, don't bother mailing me now! I don't want to hear it and don't give a fuck!
Willy B.