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Infatuation	By : Ridgley-Warfield Category: M through R > MASH > MASH Views: 2024 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own MASH or the characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Title: Infatuation
Characters: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce/ Father John Patrick "Dago Red" Mulcahy
Rating: M for Sexual Content
Summary: There's a difference between seeing someone and noticing them.
Author's Note: Based on the characters from the movie. This is Hawkeye's POV. Please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them all. Thanks for reading. Also, I'm not a golfer, so I had to do a little research on it for this chapter, and realized I had made an error in a previous chapter on a golfism, that has since been corrected.

If someone had told me when I'd been drafted that I'd be fucked in the ass by a Catholic priest, I would have socked them in the mouth and then called them crazy, and yet here I was, ass up on Dago's cot with his cock jammed inside of me. I was pretty sure this qualified as one of those compromising positions Dago had mentioned not wanting to be caught in, but the whole fucking camp could have walked in that tent and I would have told them to hold on until I was finished.
I'd had my doubts about how good anal sex could possibly feel, but after being with Dago and seeing the sheer ecstasy on his face, I couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like. Even though I trusted Dago and loved him to pieces, it was still hard to pluck up the courage to ask if he would return the favor. We'd never talked about how he felt about fucking someone, and I assumed he'd always played the bottom in sex—he'd never given any indication to the contrary, and I seriously doubted Danny to be the type to take it up the tailpipe.
I had expected the discomfort of having something stuck up my rectum, but I didn't expect it would be quite so difficult to relax. Now I knew how my patients felt whenever I had to give them a physical that involved prostate exams. I was glad that Dago was well-versed in what it was like and had the courtesy to try and distract me. Part of the tension, I knew, was purely psychological—most of us associate that part of our bodies as an exit only, not a two way street.
When his teeth bit into my shoulder, it gave me something pleasant to focus on, which ultimately helped me relax and once his fingers were inside me, brushing against my prostate, I had no trouble giving over to the pleasure he'd promised. It still felt strange, but damn it felt good… I could feel my cock throbbing, jerking each time he found my prostate. By the time he had finished prepping me, I was more than ready to feel his cock inside of me.
I knew his cock would be thicker than his fingers, but it was still a little overwhelming and I couldn't help but tense up again.
"Oh…fuck…" He swore behind me in a low, gruff voice. I recognized that tone… It was the sound of pure fucking ecstasy. This was his first time inside of anyone, and I knew how fucking good a tight asshole felt around your cock. His pleasure helped me release some of the tension and I couldn't help but laugh softly, still unaccustomed to hearing that dirty four letter word coming from his perfect lips. I wanted to make this as enjoyable for him as I wanted it to be for me, so I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax and pushed back against his cock until he was fully inside of me.
It seemed like forever passed us by as we sat there, joined together. I quietly wondered if Dago knew what he was supposed to do, but before I could ask, he tentatively pulled back a little, then thrust forward.
"Fuck…" I echoed his earlier sentiment.
"Do you like this?" Dago asked, his voice was almost haughty.
"Oh, fuck yes. Don't stop, Dago…"
"I don't intend to, Ben."
I knew I didn't have to ask if he was enjoying himself. He was holding onto my hips as he thrust into me. I almost wanted to ask him to fuck me harder, but decided that I probably shouldn't make that request yet. At least not until I knew how I might feel in a few hours when I tried to sit down.
I could feel the head of his cock pressing against my prostate with every thrust, sending a jolt of pleasure through me that had me grunting like a farm animal. I wanted him to press into me and just stay there and let me move against him. I remembered what he'd said about being able to cum just by getting fucked in the ass, and now I understood how that was possible. If he would just keep pressing on that damn spot…
Matching his rhythm, I began to push back against every thrust, coming up on my hands and knees for better leverage.
"Oh, fuck, yes…" I groaned, as I was now in the right position for his cock to continually rub against my prostate. "Oh, God, baby…just like that."
I could hear him breathing heavily as he continued to thrust into me, his fingers lightly digging into my hips as he softly moaned. "I'm not going to last very long like this, Hawkeye…"
"It's okay, baby, you don't have to. Just keep pressing into me just like that. It feels so fucking good." I reached down and grabbed my cock stroking myself in time to his thrusts. I didn't want to cum yet, but I was as close as he was. "God, Dago, your dick feels so good inside of me."
"Hawkeye…" he groaned, his thrusts suddenly became a little harder and a little faster. I wondered if he liked me talking dirty to him, but I didn't get to test that theory…
I was blinded by pleasure as the head of his cock rammed into my prostate. My cock jerked in my hand, my balls starting to draw up tightly against my body as they readied themselves to empty their load. I sank back further onto his dick, aching for him to pound me into a state of oblivion. I could feel his balls slapping against me, hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh. It was enough to drive me crazy.
I pushed up on my knees, leaning back against his chest and pressing as hard onto his cock as I could. He bit my shoulder almost painfully and I lost control, cum spurting from my cock and shooting somewhere in the vicinity of his desk and across his pillow. I felt like someone had scooped out my insides, and there was static in my brain. All of my senses shut down simultaneously until all I could see and hear was white noise, and the only thing I felt was mind-blowing ecstasy. I almost felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.
I'll be god damned if he didn't give me the best fucking orgasm of my life…
When the fog in my brain finally cleared, I realized Dago's arms were around my chest and he was holding me up even as his body sagged against my back, his head resting on my shoulder. I could feel his breath coming in heavy pants against my neck. I realized he must have cum shortly after I had, and I felt somewhat disappointed that I had been too involved in my own orgasm to witness his. Then I saw the trail of cum across his pillow and onto his desk and I laughed, highly impressed with my distance and amused by the mess I had made.
"Sorry, baby," I chortled. "I think I just gave a whole new meaning to the word 'blasphemy.'"
"Huh?" He raised his head from my shoulder with a confused expression, utterly sated and completely stoned.
I nodded towards the Bible on his desk that currently had a puddle of cum on the cover. "I just came on your Bible."
I saw a look of horror warring with hilarity on his face as he tried to decide whether or not that should be as funny as it was, until he finally just had to laugh along with me. "God, forgive me; but I'm not sure that's quite what He meant when He told his disciples, 'Let them come unto me.'"
I erupted into laughter, shocked by his quip. I felt him laughing quietly behind me before he kissed my shoulder and withdrew himself from me, using my shoulders to leverage himself off the cot and onto his feet. He picked up his towel, cleaning himself off before he mopped up the mess I'd made on his pillow, desk and Bible.
"I'll never be able to look at a Bible the same way," he mused, blushing furiously before he threw the towel at me. He started to dress as I wiped myself down, and I flipped his pillow over and laid back on his cot, putting my hands under my head and closing my eyes. There was no greater feeling than to be drunk, high and sexually gratified all at the same time. If I wasn't starving, I knew I could sleep happily for the next few hours.
"Why do I keep letting you get me high?" He asked as he came over and laid next to me wearing only his trousers. "It makes me feel so…odd."
"Odd how?"
"I dunno." He murmured sleepily, resting his head on my chest. "I feel…silly. And…sleepy. And…hungry. And…good."
I shook with quiet laughter as he kept pausing to try and describe what 'odd' felt like to him. "It's good to feel good, baby. That's why we smoke. It relaxes you, loosens you up."
"Maybe a little too loose," he chuckled softly.
"I told you I like it when you're loose." I smiled. "You think too much, Dago. You're too worried about what people think or what God thinks. You're really fun to be around when you're not concerned with what everyone else is thinking."
"So I'm not fun any other time?" He asked, his tone suggesting that he was only half kidding, which just proved my point.
"See, now you're worried about what I think of you when you're not loose," I laughed. "I always like being around you, baby, but I'm just saying you shouldn't worry so much."
"Well…I'll try," he said, making no promises.
I hugged him gently and kissed the top of his head. "So…how was your first time?"
He gave a short, bashful laugh and I could feel his face redden. "Good…really good."
He craned his head to look up at me before he asked quietly, "How was it for you?"
"Let me just say that the last time I shot a load that far was probably when I was a teenager masturbating in my bedroom."
His brow furrowed slightly and I knew he was trying to interpret whether or not that was a good thing. I laughed and clarified, "Dago, it was probably the best orgasm I've ever had."
"Oh," he said softly, his cheeks turning pink. He smiled up at me with a rueful expression, "Then I guess it's safe to say it was really good for you too."
I chuckled softly, "Yeah, I think it's definitely safe to say that."
He rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips as he leaned down and kissed me, lightly biting my bottom lip as he pulled back. I was amused that Dago liked to bite so much and wondered where that little fetish came from.
"You have a thing with biting, don't you?" I smirked.
He nodded meekly, "It…uh…kind of…um…excites me."
"Oh really?" I asked, my eyebrows lifting as I incorporated this new piece of information. "Does that mean you enjoy being bitten too?"
Dago nodded again, giving me a coy smile, and I wrapped my arms around him, sitting up with him still straddling me. He rested his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me with a soft expression on his face.
"Where do you like to be bitten?"
"My shoulders mostly."
"Yeah?" I leaned in and pressed a kiss against his collarbone. "Hard or soft?"
"Both." He answered, running a hand through my hair and lightly pulling the ends.
"Like this?" I gently bit the middle of his shoulder, right along the top of his trapezius muscle.
"Yeah," he answered almost dreamily.
"How hard do you like it?" I asked, my lips lightly brushing his shoulder as I spoke.
"Hard enough to leave marks." He hesitated for a second before adding, "I like when it starts off soft and then progressively gets harder and harder. I don't know why I like it, really…It just feels good to me."
I smiled and kissed the place I'd bitten him, pulling back to look in his eyes. "We've all got something that turns us on."
"What turns you on?"
"Damn near everything." I smirked.
He rolled his eyes, "Hawkeye…"
I laughed softly, squeezing him around the middle and pressing my lips to his. "I like for my dick to be slapped."
I saw the look of surprised shock cross his face before he tilted his head to the side and looked at me curiously. "How so?"
This time I was the one who blushed a little. "Let me see…how can I explain this…Well, if you're sucking my cock, it feels really good if you just suck the head and smack the side of my cock with your hand. I don't like it that rough, but it's alright if it's a little hard, you know?"
"That doesn't hurt?"
"It stings a little," I shrugged, "but that's part of what makes it feel so good. It also feels good if you slap my dick against your tongue."
He was smirking softly, "I'll have to remember that."
I grinned at him. "Let's get back to this biting thing of yours…I'm curious as to just how hard you like it."
"Bite me and I'll tell you when to stop."
I was amused that a priest had just requested for me to bite him, but I obliged. I started out with just a soft bite, just a bit of teeth on skin, then gradually began to bite harder and harder, listening to the way his breathing changed from slow and steady to quick and heavy until he was panting and moaning quietly, his fingers dug into my shoulders tightly, but he still hadn't told me to stop. I knew I was biting him hard enough to leave detailed imprints of my teeth…I wondered how much harder he wanted it. He cried out softly as I bite down harder still.
"There!" He gasped. I could feel him trembling ever so slightly as I memorized just how hard I was biting him, then I slowly released my hold. He heaved a heavy sigh, his eyes closed for a long minute before he looked at me with a dizzy expression and gave me a lopsided grin.
"Good?" I asked with a short laugh.
He nodded, still grinning. I looked at the mark on his shoulder, gently running my finger over the bright red ring of teeth marks. The skin was warm to the touch around the bite, and I noticed a slight purplish hue starting to form at the places that had the deepest imprints.
"I think I might have bruised you, baby."
He laughed softly and ran his hand across the bite mark, "I told you I like it hard enough to leave a mark."
"A mark, not a bruise," I countered. "Sure I didn't hurt you?"
"Oh, no…" He smiled. "Not at all, Hawkeye."
"Maybe I should set you up on a date with Dracula," I teased, making him laugh.
"I'll pass, thanks."
I tried to convince Dago to come get something to eat with me, but he passed in favor of catching a few hours of sleep.
"I still have to write a sermon for tomorrow," he told me. "I don't think God would appreciate me doing that in my current state."
I'd gotten dressed, tucked him into his cot and kissed him goodbye before I wandered outside. The rain had finally stopped, but the ground was one giant mud pit. Didn't they have grass in Korea…other than the stash Duke had in the Swamp? Ah, well…
I went through post-op, checking on several of the patients and chatting up the nurse on duty to keep my reputation in check, and then headed to the mess tent to eat.
Over the next several weeks, Dago continued to be included into any social activities hosted at the Swamp, and even invited to several poker games over in Painless' tent. Even when I was on duty in post-op, Trapper and Duke often sought Dago out to see if he wanted to play football or basketball, or shoot pool, or a number of other activities.
The only days I didn't see much of Dago were Sundays when he was giving his sermons, which included one Catholic service as well as one service open to all denominations at the 4077th, then he would travel up the road to the 121 EVAC hospital to offer confessions and give a Catholic service to anyone who showed up there, then he would go over to the engineer's outfit, where Shaking Sammy was stationed, and help out there as well. If there was still enough daylight, he would go and visit the local orphanage, taking them food and other items they needed. Of course, all those plans could change at any given time if we had wounded or if the front line shifted at all…
We established our own private routine, trying to appear as nothing more than good friends to the rest of the camp. Breakfast was the only meal we really counted on having together, but most of the time Duke and Trapper were with us, yammering on about something or another. Dago no longer read his little pocket book during meals, opting instead to wake up a little earlier than he normally would so that he could do his quiet time before he greeted the rest of the camp. Lunch was typically a crap shoot on if we'd end up eating at the same time, as he had his chaplain duties and often gave confessions or counseling in the middle of the day, and some people—he'd admitted to me—could be quite long-winded. If we weren't in OR and I wasn't on duty, then Dago, Trapper, Duke and I would typically eat dinner, often joined by Painless, Spearchucker, Bandini, and Ugly John.
Once a week, I would meet up with Becky in the supply tent just to keep the rumors alive, but on the nights when there were no poker games or movies or other activities, I would lie to Trapper and Duke and Spearchucker—if he was there—and tell them I had a date with a nurse or two. I never gave names, keeping up the façade that I didn't want them honing in on my nurses, and it almost became a game for them to guess who I was going to see. I would slip out and would always find a roundabout way of getting to Dago's tent.
His tent was the last in a line of tents next to the enlisted men, nurses and Hotlips. I always circled around the backside of his tent and whistled "shave and a haircut" to signal I was there, which was his cue to check and see if the coast was clear, whistling back "two bits" if it was safe for me to come around the corner and not be seen. Once alone in his tent with the door latched, it was like a magnetic attraction and our bodies were drawn together. We learned not to be frantic about getting each others clothes off, rather instead taking our time to fully appreciate the time together.
Dago loved alternating between kissing and biting my entire upper body, circling around me slowly so he could make sure to cover every inch of skin with his lips. He never bit me as hard as I bit him, but there were times when I winced and asked him to be easy. He would usually laugh softly and murmur an apology, and then he would take my cock in his hand and all would be quickly forgiven and forgotten.
I loved to stand behind Dago as I undressed him, running my hands up and down his bare chest and stomach, and biting his shoulder. He would always drop his head back against me, his eyes closed, his hands gripping my thighs as he hissed and moaned in pleasure. It always turned me on whenever he did that, and anytime I felt of his cock, there was no doubt just how much it turned him on too.
Our sexual exploits became somewhat of an adventure as well as we experimented with new positions or techniques. We had "borrowed" an extra mattress from the supply tent that we kept on top of his usual mattress, and we often drug both mattresses to the ground to make a palette to play on, which was much better than trying to maneuver around his cot. We started to switch between who played top and who played bottom, sometimes in the same night, and I noticed that Dago seemed to be becoming more confident in his sexual prowess. It was getting harder to make him blush, and once or twice he'd even managed to talk dirty to me with a straight face.
"I want to suck your cock 'til you cum down my throat," he told me one night as he undressed me, looking me squarely in the eyes.
I was completely flabbergasted, and so aroused, that I just stood there, gawking at him with my mouth open and my dick standing at full attention. He'd given me that lopsided smirk that I'd come to recognize as his self-satisfied little smile—I think he was starting to enjoy the times when he could dumbfound me—and then he'd given me an incredibly fantastic blow job until I had done just as he'd wanted.
All-in-all, life was good in Korea, even when times were tough in OR. What wasn't good was the fact that we were entering November. The time I had left here was dwindling quickly and each new day made me feel more and more torn between Dago and my wife. He and I hadn't talked about my impending departure in some time, mostly because neither of us had a workable solution. My future was somewhat fixed as of February: I would go home, I would go back to working at the hospital, I would stay there in Crabapple Cove, I would never be drafted again. Dago's future, on the other hand, was not fixed. He would be in Korea until the end of the war or until it was time for him to re-up his commission. But even then, I didn't know what his plans were.
We were lying together under a blanket on our palette near the stove, trying to stay warm as our bodies cooled from a particularly satisfying sexual adventure. His hand was resting on my chest and I was idly running my fingers along the fine bones, tendons and veins in his hand as I considered—once again—what would happen to us come February.
"Dago?"
"Hmm?" Came the sleepy reply. I smiled, realizing he'd nearly fallen asleep on me.
"Let's say this war is still going on when it's time for you to re-up with the army, and you're still here in Korea…what do you think you'll do?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, obviously trying to wake up enough to seriously consider the question. "I don't know, Hawk…I'd like to believe that there will be peace long before that happens, but that just means that I'll be sent to some other country in conflict to serve out the rest of my time."
He was quiet for a minute and I knew he was still thinking, so I just continued to caress his hand and wait him out.
"I don't think I'll stay in the army," he finally said. "I feel like whatever I was called here to do has been done. But, I don't know what I'll do after I'm discharged. If the Maryknolls would take me on, I'd love to work with them and continue to be a missionary. Maybe I can see what other countries I can get exiled from."
The last part was a joke and I laughed softly. "You can X them off the map as you go. Set a deadline for yourself."
He joined in my laughter for a moment, but then sobered and raised his head as he turned on his stomach to look down at me. "Hawkeye…? I know we said we weren't going to make plans for the future or anything, but…what if—and just hear me out before you get upset—what if we have one day every year or two years or five years that we meet somewhere. It doesn't have to be for sex, and it could be a whole group type of thing with you and me and Trapper and Duke and anyone else who wanted to. But, that way, we'd always have that one day to look forward to rather than dreading the day you leave in February."
His idea was actually a good one. I didn't know how well he and I would be able to handle the 'no sex' statute, but it was at least a plausible solution to our problem. "You know, baby, that just might work. We could even maybe meet up for a week or something and go to different places each time—you know, Vegas or Mexico or Paris…"
"How often would you want to do it?"
"As often as we can get away with, I guess. Yearly?"
"I'd like that." He smiled.
"Did you just think that up?"
He laughed nervously, "Actually, I had a dream about it a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't want to mention it unless you brought up the subject."
I pulled him down and kissed him, the wheels already turning in my mind as I imagined where and when our first meeting would be. If we were going somewhere like Vegas or Paris, then it would definitely have to be a week-long affair…and though I doubted it would stop Dago and I from fooling around, I would at least invite Trap and Duke. Maybe we could travel around to some of the world's best golf courses.
"Dago, do you play golf?"
"No, I never had any interest."
"Never had any—" I started to ask, appalled by his response. "Well, that's just too bad because Saturday you're going to learn from the pros from Dover."
He laughed softly and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Isn't it time for you to go back to the Swamp?"
I laughed and playfully swatted his backside, "First you can't get enough of me, now you can't get rid of me fast enough!"
He was laughing but pulled me to my feet…it really was time for me to go. I sobered up a little and pulled him into a kiss. I always wanted to stay with him. It was nice to have someone to curl up with, especially on cold nights like tonight.
We dressed and moved the mattresses back on the bed, then fell into our final kiss of the night. This was so routine that it was almost like being on autopilot. I always wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but I limited myself to only saying once or twice a week, just because I didn't want it to become habit and accidentally say it at the wrong time, and I knew in a few months I probably wouldn't be able to say it again. It seemed cruel to get him accustomed to hearing it every day and then take that from his as well, but the feeling still came out no matter what words we said goodnight with.
For example, tonight's 'I love you' came in the form of me saying, "See you at breakfast."
And his reply of 'me too' came as, "Sleep well, Hawkeye."
Dago always slipped out of his tent first and made like he was going to brush his teeth—which he would actually go do—and I would quietly slip out a few seconds after, going back around the tent and reemerging either near the supply tent or from around the nurses tent. No one was ever the wiser.
I returned to the Swamp, where Duke and Trapper were ogling the newest nudie magazine that was circulating around the camp.
"Oh, baby," Duke said as I hurriedly got out of my jacket and wrapped up in my warm robe instead. "Look at the tits on her. You could use one as a pillow and still be able to suck on the other one without a problem. Hawkeye, you seen this?"
"Which one is that, babe?"
He flashed me the picture of the voluptuous young girl, who was quite top-heavy and striking a pose her papa would be ashamed of. It was sexy, and nice to look at, but she wasn't my type. I liked the kind of girl who liked to play peek-a-boo in the pictures, the type of girl who left a little to the imagination, the type of girl who was a little shy and reserved but could be oh-so-naughty.
Hold on a second…was I describing a woman or Dago? Ah, fuck…I was gonna be so screwed when I left Korea.
I managed to give my customary whistle of approval to the picture and they went back to admiring it with their heads together. I didn't feel particularly tired, but I also didn't have anything to entertain myself with. I'd long since finished Dago's journal and had given it back to him.
The entries from his last days at chaplain school had been painful to read as he wrote about what had happened between him and Danny and some of the things Danny would say to torment Dago. Ugly, worthless, a sissy, and a fairy were just some of the things Danny would call Dago whenever he was turned down for sex. If Dago had tried to walk away, Danny would turn violent to try and get his way, hitting Dago in places where the bruises wouldn't show, choking Dago by the cross he wore around his neck until he almost passed out, or hitting or kicking him in the groin.
I couldn't understand why Dago had never reported the abuse, or even why Danny would do those things to Dago if he loved him as much as I always suspected he had. Part of me suspected that since Danny knew about the torture in Tibet, he figured that maybe violence would get Dago to submit to him. When Danny realized the physical and verbal abuse weren't working, he decided to alienate Dago from the rest of the chaplains-in-training, but his plan had backfired. Only a handful of chaplains had bought into whatever lies Danny had spread, and Dago hadn't considered them important enough to write about.
His first entries about Korea had been a mixture of anxiety and excitement. As his Chaplain training came to an end, fighting had broken out in Korea and he was given orders to report to the newest MASH unit on the front lines—the Four-Oh-Double Natural. He had arrived in Korea in the middle of July 1950 on a 40 month commission, which meant that unless he resigned, he was stuck here for another year.
He and Henry had gotten here together and had basically built the camp with their own two hands and a handful of enlisted men, including Radar O'Reilly, who had just turned 17. He wrote about the difficulties he had with OR and the memories that resurfaced from his imprisonment; he wrote about the doctors and nurses and other personnel, and how he didn't feel like he really fit in with anyone, but how Walt Waldowski—the Painless Pole—had been the first new recruit to befriend him. And then he wrote about mine and Duke's arrival. I had laughed as he said that we looked like trouble from that first day we'd arrived in an allegedly stolen jeep, but that there was something different about the two of us that gave him hope for the camp's morale. He wrote about the pranks we pulled and how angry and devastated he was, never understanding why we would do such horrible things. And then—the very last entry he'd written—was the incident with Painless, the struggle to come to me, and the desire I had awakened in him by simply stroking his hair.
Finishing his journal had been bittersweet. Though I knew the rest of the story from there, and I spent every moment I could in Dago's actual presence, it somehow felt like I had lost a confidant. He was always open and honest with me, but his journal had been so candid and so revealing and had given me such insight into his personal thoughts that I knew, unless he kept writing, I wouldn't have that level of connection with him again. And even if he did, he would always be aware that I would read what he wrote and he might end up censoring himself to be safe.
"You're awful quiet, Hawkeye," Duke noted. "Bad date?"
"No, not at all. I was just thinking about something."
"I thought I smelled something burning," Trapper quipped.
"Thinkin' about goin' home again?"
"Yeah," I lied to keep it simple. "Just a few more months."
"I hate you both," Trapper said, moodily. He'd been drafted several months after Duke and me, and had to stick it out 'til May in this hell hole.
"It won't be that bad, Trap…you'll have Dago and Painless to keep you company."
"Yeah, great." He answered miserably. "Won't be the same without you guys though."
"You know, Dago had a great idea about us all getting together after the war. Like one week every year we'd go some place and just have a good time."
"Say, that's not a bad idea. I was thinking we should all get together sometime. Have us a little party, little B-B-Q." Duke nodded in agreement.
"How about you, Trap?"
"I'm game. Where would we meet up?"
"Why not Crabapple Cove? There's a great festival they do every year to ring in the start of crab season. Our wives and kids could all get together and go shopping or whatever it is that women do while we hang out and do our thing."
"Say, that's a great idea!" Duke said enthusiastically.
The three of us conspired on the plan and officially declared Summer 1954 as our first annual meeting. I couldn't wait to tell Dago about it, but I knew it would have to wait until morning, so instead I wrote home to my wife to tell her.
I laid awake half the night thinking about next summer and the four of us together in Crabapple Cove. I wondered what it would be like to see Dago after a year apart. I tried to imagine how we might greet each other—a handshake, a hug? I knew I'd probably want to hug him, but that hug would probably turn into a kiss and that kiss would blow up my resolve not to cheat on Mary. With Trapper and Duke and our families around, Dago and I wouldn't have much opportunity to sneak off and be alone, but that thought was somehow more irritating than it was reassuring. I knew that I would want to be with Dago, but for Mary's sake, I simply couldn't.
I sighed and pushed the thoughts from my mind. I would just have to cross that bridge when I got there.
When Saturday rolled around, Trapper and I lugged our clubs up to the chopper pad with Dago in tow. I'd told Trapper that we had to teach Dago to appreciate golf, and Trapper had readily accepted the challenge, and both of us had gone over the top to do it. We had both worn our 'pro' golf attire—myself in a white button down shirt, red sleeveless sweater, knee-length black and white gingham knickers, red knee-length socks and black and white wingtip shoes; and Trapper in a yellow sweater, orange and white checkered knickers, yellow socks, and black and white wingtips. We were certainly a spectacle—especially given that it was about 50 degrees outside and neither of us were wearing jackets. Dago had simply shook his head at us, but he came quietly and stood by listening as Trapper and I explained—at length—the history of golf.
I showed him the different types of clubs and what they were used for, then I gave him one of my 9-irons and taught him how to hold his hands on the grip and the proper way to swing. I stuck a tee down in the dirt just for visual reference, took a club of my own and stepped into a typical golf position.
"Alright, baby, you want to bend your knees a little and lean over just a bit, but keep your back straight, eye on the ball. Imagine that where that tee is, there's a straight line that extends over the camp. You want your swing to follow along that line in the direction your trying to hit the ball. The swing and rotation is the most important part. You want to bring the club back and inward—left arm comes straight across your body, right elbow bends so that the head of your club is up towards your right shoulder. Most of your weight is going to be on your left leg, but don't turn your feet, just rotate your upper body. On the downswing, you'll come over that invisible line, making contact with the ball. As you follow it through, you're going to pivot your right foot back and swing your arms around so that your right arm comes up across your body and your left elbow is bent, and you're facing whichever way you hit the ball."
As I explained it to him, I practiced the swing in slow motion, then signaled for him to take my place and practice what I'd shown him. We watched him practice his swing rigidly, Trapper popping his gum noisily next to me.
"Relax a little, Red, you're not the Tin Man." He suggested to Dago.
Dago glanced up at us, but his posture didn't change much. I laughed softly, handing my club to Trapper as I went over to Dago, taking hold of his upper arms and gently shaking him, trying to get him to loosen up.
"Come on, babe, just relax your shoulders. Your core should be tight to help keep you balanced and stable, but Trap's right, you're not made of metal. Golf is supposed to be a relaxing game."
"It's hard to relax with the two of you watching me like that." He said quietly.
"Here…" I stepped around behind him and slid my hands down his arms covering his on the grip. I lowered my voice as I leaned in, trying not to move my lips to where Trapper could lip-read what I was saying. "It's just like making love, steady and strong but gentle."
I slowly brought his arms back in the upswing, then down over that invisible line, and followed through the motion to the other side. I brought his hands back to neutral over the tee and placed my hands gently above his waist.
"Bring it back," I instructed, gently guiding his torso into the rotation. "And bring it around." I guided his body through the motion, gently turning him so that he was facing the direction of his swing and reminding him to pivot his right foot. I went through it with him several more times, then stepped back to watch him. He tensed up a little bit under our scrutiny again, but seemed to have the hang of it.
Trapper brought over a ball and set it up on the tee. "Here, Dago… watch me hit."
Dago moved out of the way and Trapper set up for his shot, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet to get the right stance and looking out over the camp to see where he wanted the ball to go. He made sure his club was lined up perfectly with the ball, then brought the club up and swung it around, hollering out, "Fore!"
"Why do you say 'four?'" Dago asked as we all watched the ball sail across the camp.
Trapper and I laughed, but I explained. "It's 'fore' like fore and aft. Pro golfers have caddies that follow them around either carrying their clubs or keeping track of the balls in play. The caddie who keeps track of the balls in play is called a forecaddie. They typically stay further ahead near the holes so that they can see where the balls land. In order to warn them that a ball was being hit, the golfer would say 'fore' meaning 'hey, you forecaddie, watch for my ball!' It also serves as a heads up to bystanders so they know to watch out or they'll get beamed in the head."
"Oh," he said as understanding dawned. "That makes much more sense than 'four.'"
We laughed again and I set a ball down on the tee. "Come on, babe, you're up."
"I don't have to say 'fore,' do I?"
"You absolutely do," I grinned.
He sighed but took position, lining up his swing and grudgingly called out, "Fore…" as he hit the ball. I'd given him a 9-iron because I didn't expect him to be power driving any of the balls, but it sailed a good 100 feet, curving to the right as the wind caught it, and carrying it over towards the swamp.
"Nice!" Trapper exclaimed.
"You're a natural, Dago." I told him, taking the 9-iron from him and pulling out my 3 wood instead. "Here, try this one, see if you can hit it into the mine field."
Dago gave a practice swing to test the difference in the feel of the club and Trapper set him up with another ball.
"I'll give you ten bucks if you blow up a mine," Trapper wagered.
We watched as Dago set himself up, I could see his eyes moving back and forth a little as he tried to calculate the angle he needed to hit the ball since the wind had picked up his other one. I smiled to myself. Dago may not have been interested in golf, maybe hadn't wanted to even learn, but he was a good sport and he was giving it his all rather than just randomly swinging half-assed.
"Fore!" Dago called a little more confidently.
We all held our breath and watched the ball sail towards the mine field.
"Come on, come on, come on!" Trapper was chanting. It landed, but without causing an explosion.
"Well, you got it there," I told Dago. "That's half the battle, especially since this is your first time golfing."
"I dunno, Hawkeye," Trapper interjected. "I think maybe he's got a little help from above. Are you and God cheating, Red?"
Dago laughed but shook his head. "I don't know if God is much of a golfer either."
"Well," I said, setting myself up on a tee and aiming towards the minefield as well, "You're either a quick study or I'm a fantastic in-struc-tor."
"Must be a quick study, then." Dago said surprisingly. Trapper erupted into side-splitting laughter.
I looked up at Dago and saw that lopsided grin that indicated he was teasing me. I tried not to smirk back, giving away just how pleased I was that he was becoming just as quick-witted and quirky as the rest of us. "That is very unkind, sir."
He laughed softly, his blue eyes twinkling in merriment. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and I saw him blush slightly as he realized my gaze had gone on probably a fraction too long. "Uh, Hawkeye, could you speed it up a little? You're holding the rest of us up."
His verbal prodding had worked, I laughed, but I was able to look away and knocked my ball towards the minefield. We heard the explosion as it made contact, sending a debris cloud of dirty and rock high into the air. Trapper and I cheered, but Dago just laughed and shook his head at us again.
For the next hour we continued to knock our balls towards the minefield, trying to see how many we could set off. When Henry finally stormed up the hill and threatened us within an inch of our lives to knock it off, the score was thus: Trapper- 3, Dago- 2, and Me-1. Henry's timing couldn't have been better as just as he was turning to leave, Radar rushed up behind him, warning us all that wounded were incoming.
"Choppers, sirs."
"Well, I say we're a little overdressed for the occasion," Trapper commented.
"Do you want me to take these back to your tent?" Dago asked, indicating our clubs.
"If you don't mind," I answered, then looked at Radar, "Help him out, would ya?"
"I'll help Father Mulcahy take these back to your tent, sir," Radar was saying before I'd finished talking.
The choppers came into view about that time and I knew it was time to go to work.
There were only a dozen or so wounded that came in, so the OR wasn't near as tense as it had been recently, and our golfing attire certainly seemed to help keep the mood light; even Henry seemed to be in a relatively good mood.
"Pierce, I don't appreciate you corrupting my chaplain. He used to be a nice, quiet, decent fellow, and now you and Trapper have him telling off Hammond and blowing up the goddamn minefield."
I smirked behind my mask. I reveled in the fact that no one knew just how much I'd corrupted Dago. I glanced around the OR, wondering just where our deviant little chaplain was, but didn't see him.
"Come on, Henry," Trapper piped up before I could say anything. "We all need to have a little fun; even Dago Red."
"Can't you guys do anything normal?" Henry asked. "Don't drag him down to your level."
"Ah, but Henry, that's what we came here to do: rape the women and corrupt the clergy."
"Goddamn it, Pierce…" Henry muttered, annoyed with my inability to be serious at any given moment. Trapper and I both laughed.
I didn't see Dago again until later that evening when I went to his tent. He latched the door and I gently pulled him to me, kissing him as he wrapped his arms around me. I squeezed him tightly.
"I think this is the best part of my day," I told him. "Getting to be alone with you."
"Mine too," he said softly, nuzzling my neck. "Hawkeye?"
"Mmhmm?" I pressed my lips to his neck, nibbling gently and making him groan softly.
"I…uh… I was going to ask you if you might still write to Tseten for me?"
"Yeah, sure, did you finally think of something you want to say?"
"Well, not specifically, no…but you'll be leaving in a few months and I don't want to miss the chance to write to him."
"Sure, baby, of course I will. You just have to give me an address where to send it."
He smiled and pulled me back into a fierce kiss by my face. I chuckled against his mouth, amused by his fervor, but eagerly returned the kiss. I pulled Dago to his cot and down on top of me, aware that we were both still fully clothed—boots and all—but I wasn't in a hurry tonight.
"Thanks for playing golf with me today," I said in between kisses.
"Thanks for teaching me," he smiled. "I have to admit, I really wasn't looking forward to it, but I actually had fun."
"I'm glad. Why weren't you looking forward to it?"
"It just seemed like a really stupid game. Really boring."
"Come on, baby, do you really think I would willing do anything that's boring?"
He laughed softly, "Yes, I should have known better. Thank you for enlightening me."
"Anytime." I chuckled, remembering what Henry had said in OR. "Did you know Henry thinks Trap and I are corrupting you?"
"Aren't you?" He teased.
"You know, Dago, you're getting just a little too cheeky." I said, shaking my finger at him.
He smirked and bit down on the tip of my finger.
"Yeowch!" I was half laughing, half in pain. "Jesus, baby! That hurt."
He was laughing but sucked on the end of my finger before pulling back. "Sorry."
"I don't think you are." I argued, still chuckling.
He leaned down and kissed my lips. "How can I prove it?"
His voice had dropped to that haughty tone and my cock jerked in response. Fuck, I loved how he could turn me on like a light switch. I wasn't done teasing him. "I don't know, I think I may be scarred for life. I think you might have done irreparable damage to my finger. I'll never be able to operate again."
He was kissing his was slowly down my neck, his fingers working open the buttons on my jacket. I felt him laugh softly. "Hawkeye…" he murmured against my skin.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
One of his hands covered my cock and squeezed me through my trousers and I gave him a satisfied groaned, but continued to tease him. "Mmm…that's a nice start, but I still don't believe you're sorry."
He slipped down my body, taking my hands and pulling me up into a sitting position as he straddled my lap. He pushed my jacket off my shoulders then grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt I was wearing, tugging it off over my head. He sighed in exasperation as he encountered a t-shirt under that.
"You're dressed like it's the middle of December."
"You can never be too prepared," I smirked, having intentionally layered for this very purpose.
Dago pulled my shirt off over my head. "You've got to be kidding me, Hawkeye…" He laughed as he saw my undershirt.
I laughed and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down against my chest and kissing him deeply.
"If you have as many layers on under your pants as you did your jacket, I'm going to kill you," he threatened playfully, smiling against my lips.
"Ah, but you can't kill me, it's against your religion." I teased.
He laughed gently, brushing his nose against mine, "Let's move to the floor, Hawk…"
I smiled. He'd only recently started shortening my name. Duke and Trapper often called me 'Hawk' but I knew with Dago, it was a term of endearment to him. It was as close as he was going to get to calling me 'baby.' I liked that we each had picked a pet name that could be used in public without raising an eyebrows.
We got up and moved the mattresses down to the floor with his pillow and blanket and I turned to watch Dago take off his dog tags and cross—something he'd started doing automatically now. Thinking about our pet names had made me curious… "Hey Dago? Did you have a nickname for Danny? He called you Dago…what did you call him?"
"Just Danny. Or Dan." He answered as he shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his black turtleneck over his head. "He had other names for me, but Dago was what he used most often."
"What other names?"
"Johnny or Johnny-boy. Whenever we would…you know…he would call me his 'Angelus Damnata.' His Condemned Angel."
I didn't want to admit it, but it was actually a beautiful nickname, and fitting for Dago's sexual struggles. I found it interesting that Dago never referred to what he and Danny did as 'sex.' When he'd first mentioned Danny several months ago, he'd told me that they'd never had sex, or 'not really' in his opinion, though it was a confirmed fact that they had engaged in both oral and anal sex, as well as mutual masturbation. It made me wonder what exactly he classified as 'sex' but part of me wondered if he equated the word sex with love. He hadn't loved Danny, so he hadn't, by that definition, had sex with him. I wanted to ask him about it, but he stepped forward and put his hands on my waist as he rested his forehead on my shoulder.
"Please stop asking me about Danny right now," he said softly.
"Sure," I kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to always bring him up, I'm just curious."
"I know. It's alright…but I…" He pulled away and turned his back to me, looking towards the floor. "I have…trouble…staying…you know…"
The confident Dago that had recently emerged was gone in that moment, and meek, mild, self-conscious Dago had returned. I realized he was trying to tell me that my asking about Danny had turned him off. I nearly laughed, but stopped myself, knowing he was truly upset and embarrassed. I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, dropping my lips to his bare shoulder and tenderly kissing him.
"It's okay, baby," I told him softly. "I can turn you back on."
I gently bit into his shoulder but Dago shrugged away, "No...don't do that right now, Hawkeye."
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that he had stopped me from doing the one thing I knew he really enjoyed. I made a mental note never to mention Danny again before sex. I turned him around, taking hold of his chin and forcing him to look up at me. I pushed my glasses up on top of my head so he could see my eyes, and brought my face in close to his, brushing my nose gently against his.
"I love you, John."
I pressed my lips to his, kissing him gently at first, and slowly building back up to the passion we'd had before I'd brought up his ex-lover. We managed to finish undressing one another—I hadn't given him any more surprises with layers of clothes—then I lowered him to the palette on the floor and covered his body with mine.
Even with his stove burning, it was still cold in his tent so I pulled the blanket over us as I stretched out over him, pressing myself against him from head to toe. All the women I'd been with felt more-or-less the same physically. They were different shapes and sizes, of course, but when they were pressed up against me—though they felt wonderful—it was all the same: a pair of tits and a warm place to put my dick. I liked the fact that Dago was a man; his body felt so good against mine, so different than a woman's. The couture was different, there was a fine definition of muscle, giving a mix of hard and soft in certain areas of his body, and the hardness of his cock pressing up against my stomach gave me an exhilarating rush. I even preferred the way he smelled to women: just vaguely of aftershave and his own personal pheromones.
We didn't speak, didn't tease, didn't rush. I was slow and gentle as I entered him, caressing his tongue with mine as we kissed languidly. His fingers were lightly brushing up and down my spine like feathers. It was in moments like this, moments where our love was so evident, that I began to question what I had at home and what I wanted to have. What would life be like with Dago?
I couldn't imagine living with him on a full-time basis, but the thought of it wasn't appalling. It wasn't an option, obviously, but it was still entertaining to think about. I could imagine coming home to him after a long day, relaxing against him on the couch with his arms around me or rubbing my shoulders as I drank a beer and told him about my day. We'd maybe watch the news, have something to eat, then go to bed and have sex before we fell asleep in each others arms. I'd wake up for work and let him sleep while I got ready, kiss him goodbye, and go to the hospital. On Saturdays we'd play golf, and Sundays he would work. It seemed like a very comfortable and attractive life…but it was missing three important pieces of my life: Mary, Tommy and Charlie.
"Penny…" he said softly, derailing my train of thoughts.
I looked down at him, confused. "What?"
"Penny…for your thoughts," he clarified. "You looked like you were a million miles away just now."
I laughed softly and leaned down to kiss him. "Not quite a million. I was just trying to picture what life would be like if you and I lived together back home."
"Oh…and?" he asked with quiet curiosity.
"It was nice." I admitted, equally quiet.
Dago gently pulled me down into a kiss, then tightly held onto me as he rolled us over so I was on my back, my cock still inside of him. I groaned and closed my eyes as he pushed against my chest and sat astride my hips, gently rocking back and forth.
"You're gonna fuck me now?" I smirked.
"You're too busy thinking to pay attention," he teased gently, finding my hands and locking his fingers together with mine, pushing against me for leverage as he rode my cock. He was purposely trying to drive me insane by changing his speed and rhythm just at the point where it felt so good that I could almost climax.
"Goddamn it, Dago," I grunted after the 3rd time he'd nearly brought me to climax. I forced him back over onto his back, grabbing his wrists and pinning them against the mattress as I thrust into him, making him gasp.
He twisted his hands in my grasp as I started to pound into him, eager for release, but I held him firmer so he couldn't get away.
"Let go," he told me, a slight panic rising in his voice. "Hawkeye, let go!"
I released his wrists, and he pushed against my chest a little. I slowed down, seeing that he was practically panting.
"Don't hold me down like that," he said a little shakily, but then pulled me back down and kissed me. I suddenly realized that I must have triggered a flashback. Christ, I was really on a roll tonight bringing up bad memories…
"I'm sorry, baby…" I whispered apologetically. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he whispered back. "Don't stop; just don't hold me down."
I found the spot on his neck that drove him crazy and gently kissed and nibbled the soft skin. He shivered and moaned beneath me, wrapping one of his legs across my lower back to drive me deeper into him.
"I love you so much," I found myself saying for the second time that night.
Dago wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, as he whispered, "I love you, too."
I could count on one hand the number of times Dago had said the actual words rather than simply 'me too.' He never said it first, but I knew how hard this was for him. He'd told me that it killed him to hear it, to say it, because he knew as well as I did that nothing would ever come of our relationship. We could only progress to a certain point. That just made hearing the words from him all the more special to me.
We clung to each other tightly, letting our passion carry us into a world where nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. I wanted to stay there with him forever, but he was mewling softly against my neck, trying not to cum yet. I reached between our bodies, taking his cock and stroking him in time to my thrusts. As I squeezed his shaft and brushed my thumb over the head, Dago cried out, pressing his face against my shoulder, his fingers digging into me as he came.
His body tensed around my cock, his head falling back against the pillow, and I swore softly as my balls jerked up against my body, bringing me right to the edge. I continued to pump his cock, feeling his warm cum running over my hand, as I gave a few final thrusts before my orgasm overtook me. It was intense, but not violent. I let the waves carry me out into the sea of ecstasy, rocking my body smoothly into Dago's as I watched him cumming. Normally I was so blinded by my own bliss that I missed the expression on his face. His eyes were closed tightly and he'd pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down to keep himself quiet. I could see his sternocleidomastoid muscles straining in his neck, his face slowly turning red. I realized he was holding his breath against the intensity of his orgasm, and it made me shudder as I wondered at how good he must feel at that moment.
Though his cum had been spent, his orgasm hadn't ended and I didn't stop thrusting into him until he finally gasped for air, crying out hoarsely, and pushed a trembling hand against my shoulder in an effort to stop me. My own orgasm had subsided and I was throbbing pleasantly inside of him, pleased at how hard he had come. I finally released his cock slowly and he shuddered, his body nearly convulsing under me and he gasped again before his body went completely slack and he laid there, eyes closed, panting heavily. I was grinning wildly as I reached for his towel and began to clean us up. In all the time we'd been having sex, Dago had never had an orgasm quite like that. I laid down next to him, rearranging the blanket over us, though he kicked one leg out from under it, and propped myself up on my elbow as I looked down at him, still in recovery.
"Good?" I teased.
He gave an exhausted little laugh, but didn't answer as he blinding reached his hand towards me, encountering my hip. He gave me a gentle pat and rested his hand there limply.
"Jesus, Dago, did I completely wear you out? I thought I was being gentle."
"You were…" he said raggedly. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't ardent."
"Well, as long as you're not complaining…" I smirked.
"Oh, no…not at all."
I leaned down and kissed his forehead, resting mine against his. "I'm sorry for holding you down, Dago. I wasn't thinking."
"It's okay, Hawkeye," he reached up and ran his fingers through my hair. "I…I'd forgotten that was one of my triggers. I should have warned you."
"It's not your fault. I was just being overzealous."
He laughed softly. "I like when you're overzealous, but just not in the restraining kind of way."
"Do you mind if I ask what happened when I did that?" I found psychological traumas and flashbacks interesting from a medical perspective because of the physiological fight or flight response they had on the body, but I'd never known anyone personally who suffered from flashbacks like Dago did. I'd only read about them or heard stories secondhand from friends who were head shrinks.
He shook his head, furrowing his brow as he tried figure out how to explain what had happened. "I was okay at first because I knew we were just playing around, but then I tried to get loose and couldn't. I felt like my throat closed up and my chest got really tight and I couldn't breathe."
"Were you thinking about anything in particular?"
"Like what?" he asked, shifting his eyes to meet mine, curiously.
"Like about what happened to you in Tibet or the things Danny did."
"Oh…" he thought for a second. "No, there wasn't a specific memory it triggered, more just like a conditioned response. I was expecting to be hurt or tortured. I still knew where I was and who I was with, so I think that helped me from going into a complete panic."
"I promise not to do it again." I sealed my words with a kiss, but as I started to pull back, Dago's hand came up to the back of my neck and he held me in place, continuing to kiss me quite passionately. When the kiss finally ended, I pulled back and looked at him. He was regarding me with a strange expression.
"Will you stay with me, Hawkeye? Just for a while anyways…"
I settled down beside him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head next to his on the pillow. "Of course I will, baby."
I felt him yawn as he sank his body further into mine. "Just 'til I fall asleep…"
I smiled, kissing the top of his shoulder. I could hear the wind gently whistling outside as I listened to him breathing, and closed my eyes, enjoy the stillness with him, knowing moments like this were numbered. I yawned as I began to daydream once again about a life beyond Korea. It wasn't hard to imagine that Dago and I were in our own bed, claiming sleep after making love. If I imagined hard enough, I could almost feel that we were either in San Diego or Crabapple Cove… It was a comforting thought, and I fell asleep next to him with a soft smile on my face.

TBC
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Infatuation