Bombers Moon

The cloudless sky was blindingly blue, and Chuck tilted his head to avoid the blazing light.Louie buried his face in his sweaty neck, panting.Chuck kissed his ear, then his cheek.Their crotches pressed together, looking for more friction in each other's hands.Chuck took Louie's hand with their cocks and urged him to hurry up.Louie let out a small whimper, shaking in his arms.

They spend a long time kissing, languidly, almost half-dream.The sun rose and fell like a warming tide, driving them now to sleep and now to the shores of waking.A glade provides the backdrop for such an unorthodox oil painting: a field of grass, a checked rug, and two young men cuddling each other.The shirt was tossed aside like a camouflage no longer useful.The invisible brush also meticulously paints the slightest shadows and blemishes on the two naked bodies, the smooth curves of muscles, bite marks, sweat and long-healed scars.The sun streamed on the blades of grass, and the shadows of rain clouds were faintly piled up on the horizon, but they were blocked by the treetops at the moment, and neither of them paid attention.

"How did this come about?" Chuck asked, stroking a bumpy scar on Louie's shoulder.

"You want to know me already, don't you, Sergeant?"

"Justifiable curiosity."

Louis put his upper body on his elbows, tilted his head slightly, and looked at Chuck: "Burn. If you parachute 30 seconds later, you won't have a chance to know me."

"I'm lucky."

"Yes, Charles, very lucky."

Chuck sat up and opened the picnic basket.Inside was a bottle of white wine, a corkscrew and two glasses, wrapped in blue and white checked cotton that served as a napkin.He pulled out the cork, took a sip directly into the bottle, and handed it to Louis.The latter hesitated for a moment, took it, took a sip, and frowned: "It's already warmed up."

"It's just wine."

"The bar shouldn't be set that low."

Whatever the standard, nothing stopped them from finishing the bottle and chatting up and down.It was not until the faint sound of thunder rolled from a distance that he reluctantly put on his clothes and rolled up the blanket.The rain came faster than they could have imagined, and the clouds, whipped by the wind, chased them like a pack of dogs through the deserted garden.Heavy raindrops disturbed the surface of the pond and knocked the roses to their heads.The picnic basket and wheelchair were discarded in the rainstorm, and Chuck staggered into the small side hall with Louis on his back. Both of them were soaked, dragging a trail of mud and water, and hid in Louis' bedroom .

The bathroom floor was slippery from the rain they'd brought in, and the two of them helped each other out of sticky wet clothes and hurriedly dried their bodies and hair.They all looked terribly messed up in the mirror, with matted hair sticking out in every direction.Chuck laughed, pulled Louie toward him before he could ask what he was laughing at, and kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Louie's waist to steady him.Louie grabbed his elbow, his fingertips cold from the rain.

"Although I'd love to continue." Louie bit Chuck's lower lip lightly and pushed him away, "but it's too cold in here."

Chuck picked him up without a word, went back to the bedroom, and pressed him on the blanket.The wound touched the edge of the bed, and Louie gasped in pain.Chuck apologized under his breath, broke the kiss, straightened up, and Louie hooked his neck and pulled him down again.

"I'm fine." Louie's voice was a little hoarse. He grabbed Chuck's hand and brought it between their tight legs, "Continue."

The rumble of thunder briefly drowned out their gasps.The glass trembled, the rain lashed against the windows one after another, the lightning pierced through the curtains and quickly extinguished, and the low-pitched thunder crushed again.Chuck measured the soft lines of his shoulders, sides, and thighs, like studying a brand new map, looking for the lines and rhythms that sparked the most sparks.The other's nails scraped across Chuck's back, leaving burning stings.Chuck ducked his head and bit the side of Louie's neck, just on the verge of pain.Louie's breath was choked, trembling, his waist tensed.Chuck squeezed his eyes shut and sighed with him.

In the distance, a faint bell rang.dinner time.

No one wanted to move, and continued to be entangled in the messy sheets and blankets.Chuck lay on top of Louie, his heartbeat still not returning to normal.Louie stroked his wet short hair, complained under his breath that he couldn't breathe, but didn't push Chuck away.The thunder went away with the daylight, and it was almost impossible to see anything in the room, and the sound of the rain became louder, pouring down, beating everything.

"We should go to the restaurant." Louis touched Chuck's shoulder, "Otherwise Roger will kick in the door and tie you to the stake."

"Isn't he a servant?"

"Honorary nanny and torturer, too." Louie kissed Chuck on the ear. "You can borrow one of my shirts and I'll tie you."

"I know how to tie a tie."

"I'm sure you know, but I know better how to hide the teeth marks on my neck with my collar."

"As ordered, sir."

-

Roger greeted the two young men with icy eyes as they walked into the restaurant, searching for clues to convict them.They all looked immaculate, the Americans in borrowed shirts, a little small and tight on the shoulders and chest but passable, ties neatly tied, a lock of rain-soaked hair sticking out by the ears .He sat down in his usual position, and once again showed a toothache expression to the various knives and forks lined up like surgical instruments in front of him.Louis was the same as usual, shirt, cufflinks, dark blue striped tie, black coat.Because the wheelchair was wet, he returned to crutches, and the rubberized end hit the floor with a muffled sound.

"Madame called back this afternoon," said Roger, pouring champagne for them, the clear wine bubbling cheerfully.

"Really?" Louis took an olive from the plate carved with grape leaves. Judging from his tone, he seemed to have no interest in this conversation. "What did she say?"

"Madame will be back tomorrow. She is concerned about your injury and is looking forward to - I quote her - 'meeting the gallant Sergeant Sinclair.'"

The cat came out of nowhere, rubbed against Louis's trouser legs, and meowed twice.Louis bent down to pick up the cat, hugged it in his arms, tore off a small piece of ham to feed it, and stroked its smooth long hair. "I'm sure the sergeant would be delighted to see her too, no?"

Chuck didn't know what to answer, and was kicked under the table by Louis, so he smiled stiffly and nodded.

After the last dessert was withdrawn, the two pilots quickly escaped from the sight of the old manservant, stole a bottle of champagne stuck in an ice bucket, and walked through the seemingly endless dark corridors and rooms under Louis' command , to the other side of the mansion.The rooms without lights are connected one after another, like an illusion in a mirror.Chuck pushed open a heavy oak double door and stepped into the dark ballroom. This huge space was full of echoes. The portraits in the murals had bright eyes, and soldiers, ladies and horses seemed to be watching them.Soaring ceilings were lost in shadow.The two of them moved against the wall like mice, passed through a side door, and entered a small cozy tea room, and beyond that was the greenhouse, where the warm and humid air rushed towards their faces, blocking their mouths and noses like warmed scarves.The smell of earth and the astringency of plant roots are equally strong.Among the many tropical orchids, a cocoa tree stands alone, its sparse branches and leaves reaching out to the glass roof where the rain is flowing.

Their destination is the Turkish Hall. Although it is called this name, it was actually designed by the Duke according to the style of the Lebanese residence. The Duke lived in Beirut for two months. It was 1929, the rose color between the two wars. Era.Back on the rainy island, he had one of the vacant living rooms transformed into the sunny Lebanese capital.The original plaques have been removed to reveal a rough stone wall where two old Ottoman rifles have been hung.The floor-to-ceiling windows were also added with Arabic-style iron carvings, and the Edwardian chaise longue with embroidered upholstery was removed and replaced by brightly colored cushions and expensive Oriental rugs.Low pine tea tables had been shipped from Beirut, with brass tea sets, silver cigarette cases and hookahs.Chuck put down the ice bucket and turned on the desk lamp with a tasseled shade. The dim yellow light cut out a misty circle in the darkness, elongating the shadows, and the room looked more like a cave in the mountains of Beirut.

"Very few people come here." Louis carefully sat down on the carpet, sinking into a pile of chubby pillows, "Father used to write letters and hold some 'exotic' cocktail parties here, but then his My back is bad, so I can't use this kind of low table. Uncle Albert sometimes sleeps here, mostly when he wants to entertain ladies."

"how about you?"

Louie didn't smile, but his eyes narrowed slightly because of the smile: "Obviously, I am entertaining my American friends."

"Do you have any specific ideas?"

"Intend to improvise, but the first step is to open the wine first."

"Maybe you should loosen your tie by the way."

"Out of respect for good champagne, I won't do it, Sergeant."

Chuck shrugged, ripped off his tie, threw it aside, and unbuttoned his shirt.He took the bottle out of the ice water. The glass was beaded and slippery, and the cork made a pleasant sound when it was pulled out.Foam gushed out and dripped onto his hands.Chuck casually took two teacups from the low table and poured the wine into them.

"Mother will pass out if she sees us drinking like this." Louie took the teacup.

"You seem terrified of seeing her."

"I'm not afraid, you should be afraid."

"Because she's skinning American soldiers to decorate the living room?"

Louis shook his head and smiled at the teacup: "Almost."

Chuck sat cross-legged next to him and put the bottle between them: "That's the hell."

"Charles."

"Sir."

"I think it's necessary for me to give you a new training session." Louie put down his glass, turned to Chuck, cupped his face in his hands, as if examining an unfinished bust, "For example, start with proper etiquette." start."