Maritime Men

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 2 I

“HELL Week is secured!” Oh, thank the good, sweet Lord. Cooper dropped where he stood, stretched out on his back in the sand, and stared up at the bright blue sky. They‟d been freezing their butts off for five solid days under that deceptive sky, the wind over the water damn near arctic, the sun laughing down at them. He‟d eaten out of beachside garbage cans, slept standing up, and he was pretty sure his ass was making a pearl out of all the sand that had found its way up into his nooks and crannies. He‟d probably be sneezing sand for a week. But they‟d done it, damn it; they‟d survived the worst the Navy could throw at them. They were only seven weeks in, with months of training still on the horizon, but right now, he heard the siren song of eighteen hours of downtime coming. The master chief released them with a perfunctory, “Dismissed. Except for Jones.” Cooper looked over at Eli. He stood bent at the waist, catching his breath. He looked like a cat that had been left out in the rain—all wet, ruffled fur and attitude. Eli straightened at the chief‟s words and put his hands on his hips, still panting. The chief had always had a hard-on for Eli, probably because Eli could do more to motivate the men in their boat crew with four words and a pat on the back than Master Chief Jerkoff had managed with hours of haranguing and calisthenic torture. Eli had come into Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training as an officer—they both had, which probably explained some of why they clicked almost instantly—and the other men had just naturally gravitated toward him. Three officers—Eli, Cooper, and Jevon “Boom-Boom” Washington—

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 3 paired up with four enlisted men, all treated the same by the brass. In some crews, that led to discontent and dissension in the ranks, but they‟d never had that problem. Eli had stepped up right out of the gate, seen their strengths and weaknesses, and maneuvered things so that each man got what he needed. Eli hadn‟t been given the respect of the other candidates; he‟d earned it outright. “You got something to say?” The master chief got right up in Eli‟s face, like he always did. Somehow, Eli managed to make “No! Master Chief!” sound like “Fuck you! And your ugly-ass wife!” “One hundred push-ups, Jones. Make ‟em good.” Shithead. Mean, evil, pencil-dicked son-of-a-bitch. Petty payback, that‟s what this was, because Eli had gotten all seven members of their crew through Hell Week, and there was nothing the chief loved more than hearing that goddamn bell ring. They‟d been told three-quarters of most crews wouldn‟t finish—candidates who either quit or got hurt too bad to keep going—but not Eli‟s crew, not this time, not these men. Not his men. Even Mutt Davies, who barely scraped through the physical training in INDOC, had made it through. Eli had put him between Cooper and BoomBoom, and they‟d literally carried him at times, but he‟d done it. They‟d need him for the academics; the kid had a brain that more than made up for his relative physical lack. Worth it to keep him, to give him that extra push, that encouragement, when all he‟d ever gotten from the instructor was shit and more shit. Eli hadn‟t said much—he never did—but Cooper knew, and so did Boom-Boom and Mutt and the others, that the only way they‟d make it was to make it together, whatever it took. Eli stretched himself out over the sand, that silent “fuck you fuck you fuck you” still coming off him in waves. As Eli started on his first push-up,

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 4 the master chief said, “Dismissed,” to the rest of them again, adding that they‟d be expected back in quarters by midnight. Cooper hauled himself up and stepped over next to Eli, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. Had to be worse for Eli, though—the master chief had crawled harder up Eli‟s butt than all the rest of them combined. Cooper dropped down beside him and found Eli‟s rhythm easily enough, counting under his breath as he matched him push-up for push-up. He heard an echo come in at “Eight. Nine.” He looked to his right and saw Boom-Boom, then Mutt beyond him, and on down the line: Mike “Wallbanger” Johnson, Ace O‟Reilly, and Jorge Chavez, who they called Mickey for some good reason that Cooper couldn‟t remember, every man in Eli‟s crew, all in a row counting out push-ups loud enough that the crew fifty meters over started counting too, and on down the beach until the very air filled with one measured count after another, right on up to one hundred. More than the torture of Hell Week, that, right there, that was the moment Cooper felt like a SEAL. Once they‟d been dismissed—for good, this time—the aches and pains set in for real, the hunger and dehydration, the sand nesting in his short and curlies, the bug bites right where he couldn‟t reach them. “Why‟re we doing this again?” he asked, wrapping his arm around Eli‟s neck and tugging him in as they walked through the deeper sand near the street. “Fame and glory,” Eli said. “Oh, yeah, that‟s right,” Cooper said, patting Eli on the chest. “I forgot about the glory.” Eli slanted him a tired grin. “Let‟s get drunk.” “Fuck that. Let‟s get laid.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 5

THE hot shower alone was almost as good as getting drunk or laid, and Cooper gave serious thought to skipping the entertainment portion of the program and heading straight for the bunk calling his name, but then Boom-Boom called him a pussy, and he was too tired to defend his manly honor, so he went. They settled on Ketchum‟s, known for offering cheap draft and willing women at virtually any hour of the day. Cooper got Eli situated with a real looker—a blue-eyed brunette, tall and curvy, just his type—and then cornered a UCSD grad student just after two and had her on her back with her heels in the air by four. At first his body didn‟t seem quite sure what to do with all the pleasure signals it got: it shorted them out into muscle spasms and goosebumps, but eventually his best pal came through, rising to the occasion, as it were, and he got in two good rounds (well, two for him; he made sure she got three, and that last little squeak and shiver she gave when he had his tongue up her might‟ve been a fourth) before fatigue rolled over him like one of those waves they‟d come to know so well. He fell asleep in her bed, postfuck lassitude too much to handle on top of a week of sleep deprivation. She woke him hours later and sent him stumbling back to the barracks a good two hours after curfew. The only consolation was that probably nobody‟d even notice he was getting old before his time, felled by Hell Week and a budding social worker with a mouth from Heaven. He snuck in the back, praying that Master Chief Jerkoff was fast asleep in his quarters with one thumb in his mouth and the other up his ass. Last thing they needed was a reprimand; knowing him, the chief would find some way to pin the whole thing on Eli. He could hear it now: “Jones, why didn‟t you pull Fitch‟s pecker out of that girl before he fell asleep?” It‟d give him immense satisfaction, someday, to look the man in the face and say, “Suck my dick.” The thought took him through the

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 6 latrine, where he pissed out a week‟s worth of sea water and a couple too many beers, and on up to the sink, where he avoided the mirror and his sun-burned, too-tired face while he brushed his teeth and flicked more sand out of his ears. The barracks held the hush of the truly exhausted. Cooper tip-toed in quiet as he could, surprised when he got to his bunk and saw that Eli was awake, leaning up on one elbow on the bottom bed. “What time is it?” Eli murmured. Cooper crouched beside him and said softly, “Somewhere between past-curfew and reveille. Didn‟t mean to wake you.” “You didn‟t,” Eli said, his voice low and rough. “I‟m wired or something. Too tired to sleep.” “That sucks,” Cooper whispered, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Settle down, and I‟ll tell you a little bedtime story.” Eli pushed over onto his side, tucking one hand under his cheek. Cooper could just make out the shape of his smile in the dark. “You get lucky?” Eli asked. “No luck involved,” Cooper said, moving closer so Eli could hear him. “Just skill and charm.” “And humility.” Cooper scoffed quietly. “No need for that, son, not when you‟re this good.” Eli smiled again, and that was all the encouragement Cooper needed to tell him all about his lithe little social worker: how she‟d blown him fast and dirty in the front seat of her car and then let him fuck her in her bright, messy room, her body painted with sunlit stripes coming through the open window. He left out the part about how long it took her to get him up that

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 7 first time, his body still lingering with his team on that cold, windy beach. And he might have embellished how long he lasted, once he finally got going, but that never hurt anyone. Eli shifted onto his back and lifted one knee when Cooper got to the part where he spread her open and licked up inside her, and the little breathy sounds she made. Cooper recognized that move and turned his head to hide his grin. There, now, if Eli had to be awake at o‟dark thirty, he might as well enjoy it. Cooper wound down eventually, feeling the week work its way back into his bones, tired again just from talking. “What about you?” he asked, raising his hand for a high-five. “I pick you a gooder or what?” Eli raised his middle finger instead. “She was the designated driver. She left with a Camaro full of coeds about eight, looking for something better.” Well, shit. “She left you hanging?” “High and dry.” “That ain‟t right,” Cooper said, shaking his head. If anybody deserved a little R&R, it was the man stretched out beside him. “I can tell you this, Eli; she won‟t find better.” Eli blew out a breath and then reached for the blanket, throwing it off as he slid down the bed and stood, ducking his head as he came out from under the bunk. “Gotta take a leak.” Cooper pulled himself to his feet, swaying a little, and followed Eli into the latrine. Eli stood at one of the urinals, his tan T-shirt making him easy to find even though he hadn‟t put on the light. Cooper leaned against the doorway, watching in silence, his eyes adjusting to the low light. After a minute, he said, “Since when have you had a shy bladder?” There were

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 8 very few secrets when you lived cheek by jowl like they did, especially not after the week they‟d just endured. Eli dropped his chin to his chest and muttered, “Too hard to piss.” Cooper shivered, his cock twitching in sympathy. Or something. He looked at Eli, at the long line of his back and lean hips, and his dick jerked again. Okay, not sympathy. Signals getting crossed again, maybe, since his tastes hadn‟t traditionally run to skinny-ass farm boys. Eli had probably come in here for a little privacy to slap the salami, choke the chicken, yank the plank, oh, hell, what had Boom-Boom called it? Oh, yeah, waxing the Buick. Cooper liked that one. Maybe Eli didn‟t need him standing there while he relieved himself in more ways than one. But somewhere along the way, between waking up still tired in a sweet girl‟s bed and Eli lifting his knee to hide a hard-on Cooper had surely talked him into, he found he didn‟t want to leave Eli to his solitary pleasure. He waited another minute, just to be sure. He looked Eli over from head to toe, from mussed hair to bare feet, and felt the deep and instant warmth of friendship swell into something hotter, something… well, something better. He stepped forward slowly, giving Eli time to move, time to tuck himself away, to put up his hand, something, but by the time Cooper stood close enough to Eli‟s back to feel the warmth of it against his chest, it was too late to do anything but reach for him, one hand going down around front, colliding with Eli‟s on his very hard cock, the other sliding across his chest, bringing them flush together. Eli groaned low, his back stiffening. “Cooper—” “Shhh.” Cooper breathed against his shoulder, rubbing his hand slowly along Eli‟s torso while he learned the proportion, the heft of Eli‟s dick with the other. He was big, hot as a poker. Cut. Cooper rubbed his

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 9 thumb along the scar, and Eli‟s knees buckled. So he liked that, did he? Okay, good. He could do that all night long. “This is a bad idea,” Eli murmured, but his body trembled under Cooper‟s hands, his voice thin. “I don‟t think so,” Cooper murmured back, sliding his hand up under Eli‟s T-shirt, finding hot, smooth skin and a tight nipple to palm. Eli leaned back against him, letting Cooper take some of his weight as his hand guided Cooper‟s on his dick. “Better not be,” Eli ground out as he started to thrust into Cooper‟s hand. “Better not mess things up.” Cooper jerked him off with one hand and petted his chest with the other. “No way, buddy. No how. It‟s all good.” Eli, when he finally let go, let go, reaching back for Cooper‟s hips and digging in deep enough that Cooper thought he‟d probably find fingerprints tomorrow. The thought did not discourage him; if anything, it just made everything hotter. Fifty feet away, their crew slept on, oblivious, while in the cool sterile dark of a military latrine, Cooper held his fist tight and let a man he‟d known only a few weeks but already come to love and respect drive again and again into his steady grip. Cooper knew the moment it took him. He dragged his hand up in time to slap it over Eli‟s mouth when he started to come, rough, rhythmic jerks shaking his whole body, muffled moans resonating through to Cooper‟s body, sparking a chain reaction of arousal and satisfaction. Whatever control kept Eli from telling the master chief to fuck off, whatever kept him holding on through five days of hell, whatever kept his mind on what was best for everyone anywhere near him, all of that fell away when he came apart in Cooper‟s arms. The man was just plumb gone, and it took most of Cooper‟s considerable strength to hold him up,

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 10 working him through the last of it, stifling the sounds still struggling to be heard through his hand on Eli‟s mouth. Eli dropped his head back onto Cooper‟s shoulder, squirming away then coming back for more when Cooper tucked his face into Eli‟s neck and rubbed his midnight stubble against him. Eli pulled Cooper‟s hand away from his mouth. “Jesus,” he said, out of breath. “Jesus Christ, Coop.” He slid his hands along Cooper‟s hips, down to his thighs, his hands still unsteady, gripping convulsively. “Yeah,” Cooper said, letting go of Eli‟s dick and shaking his hand over the urinal, then wiping what was left on Eli‟s boxers. He wrapped both arms around Eli and stood there, holding on for a minute while Eli regained his composure. Yeah, it was Eli who needed a minute, not him. Not Mr. Smooth. Not Cooper Fitch, who‟d cut his sexual eyeteeth on strippers and loved every single thing that made a woman a woman. He stood there while Eli lifted his arm up and around Cooper‟s neck, pulling him in, and he let Eli kiss him, let Eli‟s tongue in his mouth, and then returned the favor. Eli tasted familiar already, somehow, and he thought maybe this should have felt more strange, but it didn‟t. It just felt good. It felt… right. Eli pulled back and turned toward him, his eyes searching Cooper‟s face in the gloom. “You good?” Cooper closed his eyes and thought about it for a second. He was about half-hard, pleasure a low hum throughout his body. He felt, well, he felt great. “You tell me,” he teased, rubbing the back of his hand low on Eli‟s stomach before pushing him gently back when Eli reached for him. “You can make it up to me next time,” he said, leaning over to lick up under Eli‟s jaw.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 11 “Count on it,” Eli said quickly, his voice sure. Cooper stepped back, putting his hands on Eli‟s shoulders when he automatically leaned in again. “We‟d best get you back to bed. Morning comes awfully early.” Eli nodded. “Go ahead. I still gotta piss.” Cooper left him to it this time, stripping down to his boxers and Tshirt and climbing into the top bunk as Eli returned and settled on the bottom bunk. Cooper lay listening to the quiet breathing of the men around them, the subtle shifts of sleep. Underneath him, Eli said quietly, “We‟re gonna make it.” Cooper smiled in the dark. “No doubt about it.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 12 II

CHRIST on a cracker. Cooper had always thought of himself as a simple man and therefore was pretty sure he knew his own ins and outs; it didn‟t take an advanced degree to get him, you know? He liked women. He liked his friends. He liked his beer cold and his steak rare. He liked being good at something and standing for something, and he‟d follow Eli Jones into Hell if he even cocked his head in Cooper‟s general direction. Simple pleasures, simple needs. Simple. It had never occurred to him, in a quarter century of living, that he might be afraid of heights. It wasn‟t even heights, not really; he‟d hiked enough cliffs to know that. And he‟d never been what you‟d call a white-knuckle flyer. He was more likely to flirt the stewardess into giving him a free drink, that kind of thing. Nope, turned out only one specific kind of height made his balls sweat and his heart jump around in his chest like a jack-rabbit: staring down an open hatch getting ready to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Who on God‟s green Earth decided that was a good idea? Jesus Christ. The hell of it was, this was supposed to be the fun part—three weeks of basic parachute training at the end of six long months of working his brain and his body past anything he‟d ever dreamed. The rest of the crew took to it fine, hurled themselves out the hatch like they weren‟t all those thousands of feet off the ground, like that wasn‟t half the state of Georgia down there, like all those little specks weren‟t people and dogs and buildings and roads you could go splat on at a hundred miles an hour, smearing blood and guts across two counties. Fuck.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 13 “Cooper. Time to go.” Eli sounded like a preacher at a funeral. Tuesday morning. Jump Number Two. “Yeah,” he said, flexing his hands on his knees. Time to go. He stood on legs that didn‟t feel entirely steady and followed Eli out of the barracks to the van, ignoring the looks he could feel from the rest of the crew. He climbed in, closed his eyes, and opened them again when vertigo took him. Damn it. One jump down, four to go—two in daylight, one at night, one with gear. Hell, they were just getting started. He‟d done it once; hadn‟t known any better then. Suited up, ran all the checks like a good little soldier, tightened his harness, practiced the count, and when the time came, he slid along the wall, wind in his face, and when Eli jumped, Cooper followed him, just like always. And then there he was, out in the middle of the freaking air and that mess they‟d strapped to his back had about as much meaning as the green-and-brown patchwork quilt down below. He froze, was what happened. He couldn‟t hear over the air rushing by, could barely see the dots below him that turned into his teammates coming toward him with their ‟chutes open, waving frantically at him. He watched Boom-Boom pass him by, his parachute billowing above him, then Mutt, his mouth open, saying something Cooper couldn‟t hear. He almost hit O‟Reilly; wouldn‟t that have sucked, and something about that, the close call in mid-air, startled him enough that he could hear again, and what he was hearing was Eli screaming in his ear, “Pull it! Motherfucker! Pull the fucking cord!” So he did. The ‟chute opened like a blessing, jerking him hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Then everything went quiet, and the universe resolved into ground below, sky above, Eli still cursing in his ear and his teammates in sight. He swore, right then, if he got both feet on solid ground, he‟d never do it again.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 14 That was yesterday.

“WHAT‟S the problem?” John Benson, the Airborne instructor they‟d been working with since arriving at Fort Benning, was a good guy. Yeah, he gave the SEAL candidates and Rangers and Marines more shit than his fellow grunts, but they didn‟t expect any less; they could take it. The first week had felt like a vacation after BUD/S, and even the second week, when they went over all the equipment, practiced jumping off the tower in the harness, all that, the change of scenery and the more laid-back atmosphere made it feel less like training and more like an Outward Bound exercise. Then came week three. “Fitch. What‟s the problem?” “No problem,” Eli said easily, coming over and stepping in front of Cooper on the tarmac. Cooper didn‟t remember stopping, but the rest of the crew was almost at the plane, and he… wasn‟t. He started to come forward, but Eli motioned him back. Benson looked hard at Cooper and then at Eli. He glanced over at the rest of the crew, who were studiously looking anywhere but at them. Cooper hated to do this to Eli, the rest of them, but it felt like his feet were lodged in cement, and all he could think was how very, very much he didn‟t want to put on his gear and get in that plane. He took a deep breath and braced himself for a tongue-lashing. In front of him, Eli settled into a defensive stance—BUD/S had them well conditioned—but Benson just looked down at his clipboard and said matter-of-factly, “A lot of guys don‟t like jumps.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 15 Cooper was pretty sure his dick shriveled up a hair just hearing the word. Eli looked at him over his shoulder, making eye contact. Yeah, wasn‟t what he expected either. Benson looked up. “What?” Eli relaxed a little, shifting his weight as he said, “We‟re more used to getting yelled at.” Benson grinned briefly. “I figure if you haven‟t rung out by now, you‟re not going to. But everybody‟s got to go up, you know that.” Cooper dropped his head. Fuck a duck. “Fitch, I‟d like a word,” Benson said, pointing back toward the hangar. “You too, Jones.” “I‟ll handle this,” Eli said under his breath as he passed Cooper. “I can—” Eli shot him a “shut the fuck up” look, so Cooper shut the fuck up. Besides, he figured grabbing Benson around the knees and begging wouldn‟t get him very far anyway, and that was about all he‟d come up with as a plan. Benson led them through the hangar to a windowless office crammed with piles of paperwork, dead coffee cups, and tools slimed with engine grease. Ordinarily Cooper would have thought it a shame that they squirreled anybody away on the interior like this, shut off from the big sky, but at that moment, he was so relieved by the reprieve—however brief—that he sank down into a chair and put his head in his hands. A stronger man might have tried to fake it a little, but that wasn‟t easy to do when your bowels clenched at the word “jumps.” Benson had his number: Cooper wasn‟t the first candidate to balk at a jump, and he wouldn‟t be the last, he told him, leaning against a file

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 16 cabinet with his clipboard tucked under one arm. “You‟ve got to get out of your head, Fitch. It‟s a real rush—enjoy the ride.” Enjoy the… your mama. Benson kept talking, an unending string of hoo-rah adrenaline junkie Army bullshit parsed as motivation, ending with “It‟s mental, not physical.” Funny, it felt pretty damn physical. It felt like he was having a heart attack, his breath coming short and fast. Eli stepped into his line of vision, big feet in clean boots lined up opposite his own. Cooper cleared his throat. “Look, I appreciate the pep talk. I do. I just—” Eli kicked his boot. “Need a couple minutes.” Cooper looked up, shaking his head, and Eli kicked his other boot. “That‟s all he needs,” Eli said to Benson. “He can do it.” Benson looked grim. He checked his watch, wrote something down on his clipboard, and reached for the door, saying, “You‟ve got ten minutes, Jones.” “Thank you.” Benson hesitated in the doorway, looked from Cooper to Eli and said, “Get him up.” Eli nodded. When the door closed behind Benson, Cooper slumped back in the chair and dropped his head against the wall. “This sucks.” Eli just looked at him.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 17 “Forgive me if I think the Navy ought to be about the goddamn ocean.” Cooper huffed, pressing his hand against his chest. Man, that sausage biscuit from breakfast was sitting like a lump under his ribs. “If I wanted to fly, I‟d‟ve joined the goddamn Air Force.” “Did you miss the page in the brochure that says „SEAL‟ stands for „Sea‟, „Air‟, and „Land‟?” Eli asked. Cooper grimaced. “You‟re not helping.” He lifted his head as Eli walked over to the office door and turned the lock. “What‟re you doing?” he asked when Eli stepped in front of him, putting his boots on either side of Cooper‟s, a whole lot closer than he‟d been before. “You heard the man,” Eli said, crouching down, resting his forearms on Cooper‟s thighs. Whoa. Okay. Whoa. Cooper‟s heart jumped again, accompanied this time by a lurch somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch that he vaguely recognized as his dick reasserting itself in the face of, well, Eli. He‟d heard the man, yeah. Something about being mental. Enjoying the ride and a bunch of other crap. Eli having ten minutes to get him… oh. Oh. That sly son-of-a-bitch. Did he really think he could come whisper sweet nothings and Cooper would go climb on that plane and jump out of it, just on his say so? Because Eli was good, Eli was damn good, but there were limits and…. …and Eli had both hands at Cooper‟s midsection, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly, rummaging around in there for something. He got his hands on Cooper‟s dick and pulled it out, right there in the hangar, in that cruddy, crowded office, just pulled it out like they didn‟t have a pilot and crew waiting on them, like there wasn‟t a bunch of people on the other side of that wall—and not their own people, either, who they could probably count on to look the other way—who might wonder what in the

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 18 fuck a SEAL candidate was doing with his mitts all over another candidate‟s almost-hard dick. Eli looked up at him, his face full of mischief and heat, and something Cooper would‟ve called affection if he didn‟t think it sounded sappy. “Got to get you out of your head, Coop,” Eli said with a grin that had to be illegal in Georgia, and if not there, then surely in Alabama. “You‟ve got to be kidding me,” Cooper said, but his hips had already gotten with the program, sliding down in the seat, his legs spreading automatically, dick flushing up hard with all the blood that should‟ve been in his head. Eli kept a good tight grip as he shifted to get his legs inside Cooper‟s, going down on one knee until he got to eye-to-one-eye level. Lordy, he looked good down there, looking Cooper over with the same assessing eye he gave most situations. “You‟re one crazy fucker,” Cooper said. From the quick grin Eli gave him, Cooper knew he took it as the compliment intended. Eli pumped him twice, pulling more blood into his dick from somewhere, God only knew where; he was already light-headed and tingling all over. That alone would probably have done it. It had been awhile for him, and longer since he and Eli had done anything more than palm places they shouldn‟t when nobody was looking, brushing up against each other in the shower, fingers trailing low and slow. Oh, they‟d stolen a few quick hand jobs since that first time after Hell Week: nothing like a knowing hand at the end of a God-awful day, especially one you didn‟t have to buy dinner. Cooper knew that Eli‟s hand alone was more than good enough, thank you very much, but when Eli got something in his head, there was no getting it out, might as well go along, might as well… enjoy the ride… oh, man, he was gonna get Eli for this… then Eli lowered his head, and instead of calluses and familiar rough skin, he felt the

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 19 unaccustomed heat of Eli‟s wet mouth sliding over the tip of his dick, drawing strongly as it slipped further down. “Oh, shit,” Cooper hissed, catapulting forward in the chair, grabbing Eli‟s head with both hands, twisting short silky hair in his fingers, humping up helplessly when Eli hummed around him. “Oh… oh, yeah,” Cooper groaned, “that‟ll work.” Truth be told, he‟d had better, but he‟d been schooled by professionals, and this was Eli with his head buried in Cooper‟s lap, doing what Cooper knew for a fact he‟d never done in his life, slurping like he couldn‟t quite fit the whole thing all in, which of course just made Cooper swell up even more. It was Eli who raked him with teeth sharp enough to make Cooper jerk in his mouth, probably half-choking the guy, but he just kept going, up and down, tongue on the bottom, teeth on top, and first blowjob or not, it worked like a charm. Freefall. What a rush. What had he been worried about? Where were they? What? Huh? By the time Cooper remembered to pull on Eli‟s ears, it was too late, and he‟d already pumped a mouthful of come for Eli to swallow. To Eli‟s credit, he took it without flinching, but Eli always did take to new experiences pretty well: witness the whole jumping-out-of-a-plane thing. It all came back then—the office, the hangar, the tarmac leading to a plane full of soldiers waiting for him to suck it the fuck up and do his job. The panic didn‟t come back with it, though, all his synapses still firing in the direction of his spit-covered dick, and for that he was grateful. “That was… that was,” Cooper said, his voice slurred. He couldn‟t find words for it, so he waved his arms around a little, figured Eli would get it. Then he slid his thumb across Eli‟s mouth, dipping inside, and went a little weak again when Eli sucked strongly on his thumb before letting him go.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 20 Eli sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth. “If you jump, I‟ll do it again,” he said. “Now that‟s what I call an incentive.” Cooper tucked his dick back in his pants and zipped up, adjusting himself when things didn‟t quite want to settle down where they ought to, still a little blissed out and not worried about anything. “One of these days, we‟re gonna get naked. Find a motel or something, someplace with a bed.” “You complaining?” Eli asked. “Fuck, no.” Cooper petted Eli‟s head, reaching down to pull him up where he could get at the zipper on Eli‟s pants, but Eli pushed back out of reach, saying, “We‟ve got two minutes.” Two minutes. Ten minutes. Time to go, Cooper. “Yeah, all right,” Cooper said, shaking feeling back into his hands and feet, stretching his arms over his head. He felt like a new man. Eli quirked up one corner of his mouth. “You ready?” “As I‟ll ever be.” He walked to the plane, accepted bone-jarring thumps on the back from O‟Reilly and Wallbanger, and situated himself next to Eli in his usual spot. As the plane taxied toward takeoff, he hummed the Navy hymn under his breath—Father, hear our humble prayer, for those in peril in the air.

SUFFICE to say, Jump Two went a whole lot better.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 21 BY Jump Three, he had the routine down. Jump, boy, jump. Amazing what the promise of a blowjob could do for a man‟s motivation. Eli‟s unconventional behavior modification had one unexpected side effect: Cooper started getting hard every time they got anywhere near the airfield. Based on Benson‟s pithy, murmured aside, Cooper wasn‟t the only candidate that had ever happened to, either, though Benson chalked it up to adrenaline when Cooper knew good and well it had more to do with what Eli looked like when he swallowed.

JUMP Four took place at sunset. By then, Cooper could appreciate a few things about being up that high. The sky, with its bursts of orange and purple, light blue shading fittingly to navy up high, was one of the most beautiful sights he‟d ever seen. He‟d learned to let Eli count for him—he still lost his shit the minute he jumped—but between them, they had a handle on it. All Cooper had to do was listen and pull the cord, and he managed that much just fine. He also managed not to pull Eli‟s hair out by the roots in the men‟s room of some honky-tonk later that night, his whole weight pressed against the restroom door, keeping it closed while Eli worked on setting a new land speed record. Eli was a quick study, had shown that time and again over the past few months, and Cooper greatly appreciated the zeal Eli put into perfecting his cock-sucking technique. Made Cooper a little curious too—as much as he enjoyed sticking his dick down Eli‟s throat, there was something about watching Eli‟s face get all red, knowing Eli got hard just from sucking on him―even before Cooper offered a hand to finish him off, that made Cooper want to drop to his own knees and learn something new.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 22 While Eli stripped him through some aftershocks, Cooper slid his hand across the zipper of Eli‟s uniform pants. “I owe you one, buddy,” he said, grabbing hold as best he could through the fabric, a little smug about the fact that he could get Eli all hot and bothered without doing more than sticking his dick in his mouth. Eli grinned at him, his teeth white in his flushed face. “You owe me four. And counting. Don‟t think I won‟t collect.” Cooper manhandled Eli over to the sink and jerked him off, holding the restroom door closed with his other hand. He watched in the old, cracked mirror as Eli‟s face went slack with pleasure, and a rush of something fierce welled up inside. Pride, maybe. Gratitude. He could probably make it through all this without Eli, but he was damn glad he didn‟t have to.

BY the fifth and final jump, the one with rucksack and weaponry, Cooper‟s dick liked skydiving just fine, and since Cooper pretty much always listened to his dick, it worked out. Benson shook his hand Friday afternoon, said he knew Cooper had it in him all along. Cooper almost said he‟d got that backward but left well enough alone when Eli coughed beside him. They had two days of R&R scheduled, nowhere to be until the plane ride back to Coronado on Monday, and a ride into Hotlanta if they wanted it. “You know what‟s in Atlanta, right?” Eli asked as they walked from the hangar back to the van waiting to return them to the barracks. “Blondes, brunettes, and redheads,” Cooper said, waggling his eyebrows.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 23 “I was going to say Georgia Tech, Georgia State, and Emory,” Eli said, slapping Cooper‟s shoulder. “Even Mutt can probably catch a fish in one of those ponds.” “For me and you, that‟s like shooting in a barrel,” Cooper said. He shifted until Eli‟s hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck and slowed down, letting the rest of the crew outpace them. “You think they‟ve got a Holiday Inn in Hotlanta?” he asked. “Probably,” Eli said, rubbing his thumb lightly along the side of Cooper‟s neck. Cooper jabbed a friendly elbow in Eli‟s side. “Then lead the way.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 24 III

MAYBE spending their food money on booze hadn‟t been their best idea. Of course, tell that to Jim Beam, who‟d practically leaped off the shelf at Green‟s. The big jug, too, so they‟d had plenty of that and not much else all day. The rest of their crew, plus a few jarheads and a stray Ranger here and there, had descended into the bowels of Underground Atlanta. The Marines were all right, thought they were hot shit, but that just came with the territory. Cooper recognized a couple guys who‟d come up with them in the van and nodded to them while they navigated a bottleneck at the entrance to one of the clubs—some baby-faced Marine getting carded. Fuckin‟ bouncers. “Since when do they let infants in the U.S. military?” he muttered to Eli. Ace leaned over his shoulder and slurred, “‟S‟why they call it infantry.” Cooper pushed Ace‟s face off his shoulder, waving away his Beam breath. In front of them, another Marine, a poster-boy type, big and blond, turned around and gave them the evil eye. “That infant can make a kill shot at six hundred meters.” Cooper craned his neck to get a better look at the kid holding up the line: tall and skinny, brown fuzz cut high and tight, blue eyes bright in a red face. Couldn‟t have been more than nineteen. Shit, no wonder he‟d

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 25 had to cough up ID. Must‟ve got a waiver to get this far that young. Too bad he couldn‟t buy a beer. Cooper passed the Marine five bucks. “Get him one on me.” Poster Boy pocketed the five with a grin. Then Mutt came up, fussing at him and Eli to come with them, but Boom-Boom slung an arm across Mutt‟s shoulders and steered him off, saying, “Hey, their loss. Just means more for you and me.” He sent a single glance over his shoulder at Cooper that told him he had an idea what was what. Eli either didn‟t see it, or it didn‟t bother him, Cooper couldn‟t tell which. Before he could worry about it, Eli slapped him on the back and passed the bottle over, and between one swallow and the next, Boom-Boom and Mutt faded into the crowd. Then it was just the two of them standing on the sidewalk, passing the bottle back and forth like a couple of derelicts on a bender. Which, now that he thought about it, wasn‟t that far off the mark. That degree of drunk made the MARTA kind of an adventure, but they couldn‟t afford anything close in, so they rode out to the airport and found a Motel 6 for forty bucks. For that kind of money, he expected the bed to stay in one place and the walls not to spin, but he guessed he couldn‟t be too picky. Join the Navy, see… the inside of a Motel 6. It didn‟t help that Eli was prowling the room like a cougar, switching on lights, poking through the soaps and stuff on the sink, antsy as a virgin on prom night. “Settle down, son,” Cooper said, patting the bed he‟d marooned himself on. He could hardly remember the last time he‟d slept on anything wider than a bunk. He stretched out, arms and legs sprawled, and still hit

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 26 bed; queen-size, probably. Two of them, even, but Cooper only planned on using one. Eli stopped at the foot of the bed and swayed, his color high, eyes at half-mast. Liquor‟s quicker, for damn sure. “I wanted to say… you did good,” Eli said. He looked all earnest. Drink‟d do that to you, make you sappy. “I did what good?” Cooper said, testing a leer that slid right off his cheek. Eli huffed at him. “I‟m trying to tell you—” “I don‟t need to hear it,” Cooper said, sitting up. He didn‟t. He‟d made it through Jump Week on blowjobs and blind trust; there wasn‟t much left to say, far as he could see. Maybe there‟d come a time when he could return the favor, talk Eli out of a tree. “I‟d do the same for you,” he said. Eli nodded. “I know that.” “Okay, then.” Eli blinked slowly at him, unsteady on his feet. “Get over here. You‟re making me seasick,” Cooper said, reaching out to yank Eli down with him. They had private space and a finite time to spend in it. He didn‟t see a reason to spend any more time talking. He dug his fingers under Eli‟s ribs, and while Eli was bent over, laughing and swearing, Cooper yanked his shirt out from his pants and pulled it over his head. Then he tossed Eli on his back and stripped him the rest of the way, fingers fumbling on his bootlaces long enough that Eli finally nudged him out of the way and yanked them off himself, then the rest of it.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 27 Cooper pushed him back and spread him out. Eli put his arm across his eyes but didn‟t stop him. Well, now. Well. Cooper had seen Eli without his clothes on plenty of times; he just hadn‟t had time to really look before. Clothed, Eli gave off that leader vibe, that thing that made the rest of them do what he said just because he said it. In clothes, he looked bigger than he was. Bare, he ran more narrow—lean muscle and bone. “How come you don‟t sink?” Cooper asked, trailing one finger down Eli‟s chest, enjoying the flutter in Eli‟s stomach muscles when he got far enough south. “Too stubborn,” Eli said with a quick grin, but he didn‟t move his arm. Cooper grunted. “Now that I believe.” He ran his hand along Eli‟s flank, down the flat of his thigh, muscles jumping under his palm. Between Eli‟s legs, his dick defied gravity and the wages of alcohol, stretching up across his belly long and straight, just like the rest of him. Eli moved under his hand, rolling his hips up, hissing between his teeth when Cooper cupped his balls and knuckled up underneath. Eli‟s legs twitched and spread a little wider, giving Cooper more room to maneuver, so he hunched forward and pressed his knuckles in. “Like that, do you?” he asked when Eli groaned. Eli dropped his hand from his face, scrabbling for Cooper‟s hand between his legs. He pulled Cooper‟s hand to his dick, wrapping his fingers tight around it, and started thrusting, his hips jackhammering up off the bed.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 28 The whole thing made Cooper dizzy, made him hard and hungry and horny. Made him wish they‟d cut out earlier instead of burning daylight with the crew. They could‟ve been here all along. Next time he‟d know better. He didn‟t even try to get his hand out from under Eli‟s; he was really going for it now, lunging up, eyes on the prize already. Cooper leaned over, set his teeth on the nipple he could reach, and Eli went wild, bucking fast, clenching his hand over Cooper‟s before coming in long, sharp bursts. In the messy wake, Eli lay on his back like he‟d been shot while Cooper wiped his come-streaked hand on the bedspread. “There you go,” Cooper murmured, lipping along one of Eli‟s ribs, taking an experimental lick when he ran across some slicker terrain. Weird, but not bad. Smelled good, familiar. “That oughta take the edge off.” Eli fumbled his hand loose and dug his fingers in Cooper‟s hair, dragging his head up. “Not really.” Cooper glanced down. Sure enough, Eli‟s dick had hardly softened up at all. Now that was impressive. “Need to get you skunked on whiskey more often, buddy. Looks good on you.” Eli honest-to-God blushed at that, red stealing up his neck from his chest. Cooper watched, fascinated with the ebb and flow of color. Eli seemed to have gotten over his shy, and he propped himself up on his elbows and let Cooper look. He hadn‟t lied: Eli looked damn good come-drunk and hammered. He looked… young. Not as young as that baby-faced Marine, but younger

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 29 than Cooper had ever seen him. He looked more closely. Eli usually had lines drawn between his eyebrows and bracketing his mouth, but they were gone, erased, chased off with booze and a hand on his dick. Cooper had put that ease there. Helped, anyhow. The thought made him quietly proud. “Why‟re your clothes still on?” Eli asked. “Been kind of busy,” Cooper said, abandoning his post at Eli‟s torso long enough to strip. He couldn‟t say it wasn‟t a little bit strange to stretch out next to Eli on the bed, naked as the day he was born, with Eli lying beside him just as naked, hard, and still covered in his first round. He couldn‟t say he‟d expected this when he applied to the SEALs and couldn‟t say it was anything he‟d ever have looked for. Didn‟t mean he wasn‟t grateful to have found it, just the same. Eli, the crew, easy women when he wanted them, Eli when he didn‟t. Hard work, crazy hours, Eli at his shoulder shoring him up. Risks, rewards, sea and sand, air and sky and Eli… it all came back to Eli. Jesus, that had to be the Beam talking, right? Getting him all choked up over the best worst days of his life? He squeezed his eyes shut tight and then opened them again, shaking it off. Eli had slid over on his side, looking at him, one little line trying to worm its way back between his eyebrows. Oh, no, now, none of that. Cooper leaned in and smoothed his thumb over the line and went hot all over when Eli tilted his head back and rumbled low in his chest like a cat. “You‟ve got me here,” Cooper said. “What‟re you gonna do with me?” “I‟m thinking,” Eli said.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 30 “Uh-oh, Jones is thinking,” Cooper said, rolling onto his stomach and stretching his arms above his head, nudging his half-hard cock against the mattress. “Somebody alert the President.” Eli barked a laugh. “Smartass.” “Fine ass,” Cooper said into the crook of his arm, wriggling a little bit in case Eli wasn‟t paying close enough attention. No worries there, it turned out: if Eli had been paying any closer attention, Cooper might‟ve had laser burns on his ass. He wiggled again, gratified and turned right the fuck on when Eli sucked in a breath. Turned on enough to ask a question he‟d never imagined asking. “Eli… you ever?” No good way to put it, not and not scare the man back into his fatigues. “Ever what? This?” Eli asked. He motioned his hand between them. “No.” All right, all right, shorthand was definitely the way to go. Cooper took Eli‟s hand, pulled it down to his ass, and shimmied until Eli‟s fingers slipped where the sun never shone. “Done… that?” Eli froze with his hand lodged impolitely. He started to say something but coughed. Cooper waited him out, keeping his backside still as a statue while his dick tried to drill a hole in the bed beneath him. After a minute, Eli choked out, “Nope.” “You want to?”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 31 Eli seemed to be giving the idea the careful consideration of the completely plastered. Either that or he was still deciphering Cooper‟s secret code. Down south, Eli‟s fingers flexed once and went still again. “Do you?” Eli asked. “Do I what?” Shit, he‟d lost track of the code with that last flex. “Have you ever… done that?” Eli asked. “I grew up on the Vegas strip, man, what do you think?” They hadn‟t talked about it much, the strip club where Cooper had grown up in Nevada. He wasn‟t ashamed of it or anything; he loved his mom to the moon and back, but he‟d learned young enough that legal didn‟t mean tolerable, it just meant nobody was going to jail for it. Eli‟s fingers flexed again, and this time his hand moved, cupped where things went round, and squeezed. “So you‟ve got some experience.” “I‟ve had a few fingers put places I never expected,” Cooper admitted. “That‟s about it.” Eli squirmed. “Don‟t make me ask.” Took Cooper a while to sort through all the things Eli might not want to ask about that, but he found his way there eventually. “Done right, it‟s good. Better than good, to tell you the truth. Now, that‟s just fingers, but I can‟t see how bigger‟s not better.” “I‟m not sure I‟m drunk enough for this,” Eli said, but he‟d started outright stroking now, right there in the hot zone, fingertips light enough over him to send goose bumps radiating out every which way. “I‟m not sure I want you any drunker if you‟re thinking about poking me with that thing.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 32 Eli looked down at his hard-on like he wasn‟t sure where it had come from. Cooper pressed his lips together to keep from smiling and laid it on the line for him: “You want to fuck me? Or you want me to fuck you?” He‟d seen Eli flush, seen him sunburned, seen him turn almost purple with exertion, but he‟d never seen that particular shade climb up Eli‟s cheeks. He reached over and put his hand along the side of Eli‟s jaw to see if it could possibly be as hot as it looked. Eli closed his eyes and leaned against Cooper‟s hand, and something flip-flopped in Cooper‟s chest. “Do me,” he heard himself say, his voice so low he hardly recognized it. Eli opened his eyes. Whoa, intense. Cooper could see that Eli‟s pupils were huge, almost covering the blue-gray part. “This time.” Cooper grinned. “I‟ll take notes.” That earned him a smack on the ass. “I‟m gonna turn out the lights,” Eli said. “Okay.” After that, things went a little fuzzier. The dark didn‟t do a thing to stop the room spinning, and no way could he get a foot on the floor to help, but all that faded into the background once Eli got his hands on him. Something slick, lotion probably, cold enough to send chills up his back, eased the way for Eli‟s long fingers to reach the last vestiges of virginity he could claim. Fingers gave way to the broader, blunter thrust of Eli‟s dick, big enough to make Cooper arch away, some instincts stronger than others, pain fighting arousal and winning. Eli bit off a curse and slowed way

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 33 down, stretching along Cooper‟s back, rubbing his mouth on the back of his neck. “Easy,” he said. “Relax.” Easy. Relax. Right. He‟d get right on that. Easy for Eli to say, he didn‟t have a hot poker shoved up his hindquarters. Well, he‟d asked for it, and he was for goddamn sure getting it. Felt like Eli was everywhere, shaking along his back, throbbing tight in his ass, his mouth dragging slow on Cooper‟s neck. Cooper blew out a breath and then another. He realized Eli was breathing in the same rhythm, moving with him, moving in him now, slow, unsteady. Pressure built the deeper Eli went, winding Cooper tight, sparking something too dense to call pleasure, unfamiliar and overwhelming. “Eli.” Jesus, whose voice was that? His? Aw, fuck, he was done for now. “Eli….” Eli got both arms under his chest and pulled him up. Whatever Cooper had thought, if he‟d ever thought of it at all, this was so much better. Should‟ve known, shouldn‟t have been surprised. Everything else worked; no reason why this wouldn‟t. He said it one more time: “Eli.” Eli reached for his dick and found the rhythm there too. “I‟ve got you.” Yeah, all right, okay. Cooper let the room spin away, let the dark close over his head, and let Eli in, and in, and in.

MORNING didn‟t do them or the Motel 6 any favors.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 34 Cooper scraped himself off come-caked sheets, wincing as some of his favorite short and curlies got yanked out in the process. He set the shower to hot then cold then hot again, an old hangover remedy he‟d learned from one of the same girls who‟d taught him to appreciate a nice long finger up his ass, singing loud enough to drown out the sound of Eli puking his guts out into the toilet. He came out dripping, left the shower running, and when Eli didn‟t show any inclination to leave the bathroom floor in time to get them back on the van to Fort Benning, Cooper pulled him up, put him under the spray, and held him there. Once it looked like Eli could manage to soap his pits without risking a head injury, Cooper left him to it. He staggered out into the darkened room, got dressed, and stripped the bed, rolling the sheets into a tight ball in the corner. Jim motherfuckin‟ Beam could kiss his white ass. It‟d be a cold day in Hell before he let the whiskey choose him again instead of the other way around. He shuddered at the thought. The coffeemaker taunted him, but he couldn‟t bring himself to make the effort to figure out which buttons to push. He couldn‟t even face water; he just swished a little around in his mouth along with some toothpaste and called it done. Even clean, Eli looked like death warmed over. Looked like he couldn‟t face sticking the toothbrush in his mouth, either; he made do with a fingerful of toothpaste. It took him two tries to get his pants zipped, and he stayed bent over his boots long enough that Cooper wondered if he‟d fallen back asleep, but eventually, he lifted his head, blood-shot eyes finding Cooper propped against the bathroom doorway. He looked at Cooper warily and said, “You all right?” Cooper took stock. Head: pounding. Mouth: dry. Ass: sore. He felt a slow smile stretch across his mouth. “Yup. You?”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 35 Eli stood up slowly, still looking a little green around the gills. Cooper left the doorway to hold itself up and went over to Eli, standing close enough to serve as ballast if necessary. Eli bent his head and pushed it into Cooper‟s shoulder, scrubbing his face back and forth. Cooper took hold of the back of Eli‟s neck, holding him there long enough to get the message across: they were good. Good before, good during, and good after. Eli pulled back and patted Cooper‟s shoulder. “I‟m never drinking again.” “Me neither.”

THEY had to put up with the usual shit on the drive back. O‟Reilly had tall tales to tell about their night in the Underground. Some of them might even have been true; nobody contradicted him. When it came their turn, Cooper pointed to Eli and said, “He got drunk.” Eli slid his sunglasses further up his nose and lifted his chin toward Cooper. “He got laid.” “That just means it‟s Tuesday,” Wallbanger called out from the back. “It‟s Sunday, dumbfuck,” O‟Reilly said, punching Wallbanger in the arm hard enough to start something. Boom-Boom leveled them a look but didn‟t say anything. He just headed to the back to break things up before they got out of hand. Cooper put his head back on the seat. He shifted until his leg brushed against Eli‟s and got a nudge back.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 36 Got drunk. Got laid. Fuckin‟ A.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 37 IV

WELL, what do you know—even Elijah John Jones had his limits. Master Chief Jerkoff hadn‟t tested him during Basic Conditioning, not really. None of the physical stuff got to Eli. Hell, sometimes Cooper thought Eli actually got off on seeing how far he could push his body before it broke. They all did that to some extent, since only the truly deranged wanted to be SEALs in the first place, but Eli took it to a whole new level. And maybe if they‟d just kept throwing themselves out of airplanes, swimming for miles, and running until their feet about fell off, Eli would have been fine, but Cooper couldn‟t deny that the classroom training looked to be kicking Eli‟s ass from here to Sunday. To be honest, none of them were holding up particularly well—a nice three-hundred pound log to carry seemed vastly preferable to hours spent indoors trapped at a desk—but Eli was the only one Cooper worried about. He had missed the signs, hadn‟t even known to look for them, nose buried in his own book, the required mental leaps almost as dizzying as parachute training. By the time Cooper surfaced out of his numbersinduced haze, Eli had already tipped over the edge. Words were exchanged, with a superior officer, no less, and a chair might‟ve lost use of its legs in an on-the-job accident. Most men in Eli‟s situation would have been facing a reprimand at best, a court martial at worst. But unlike the chief, this instructor loved Eli, so what he got instead was twelve hours of breathing space and an exhortation to sort his shit out. “Get him out of here, Fitch,” the instructor said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage. “Be grateful my wife switched me to decaf.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 38 “Yes, sir,” Cooper said, pushing Eli out the door before somebody handed the instructor a cup of joe and he changed his mind. A twelve-hour stretch was practically a vacation, plenty of time to get the hell off the base, go native, and slap the awesome back into Eli. Maybe they could even have a little fun. “I know better,” Eli said as Cooper hustled him back to the barracks. He sat on his bunk and watched while Cooper dug around in his boot locker and tossed a pair of jeans and a faded gray T-shirt his way. “I know you do,” Cooper said as he shucked his own gear and tugged on khaki shorts that had seen better days and an old UNLV shirt. “It won‟t happen again,” Eli said. Cooper straightened and looked down at him. He‟d seen the man so exhausted he puked up his MRE, but he‟d never seen him look this miserable. “Hey, now, don‟t worry about it,” he said, thumping Eli‟s shoulder. “Happens to the best of us. Shit, it happens to O‟Reilly ten times a day.” Eli cracked a smile at that. Every ladder had a bottom rung, even elite fighting forces, and theirs was Ace O‟Reilly. Scrappy and sarcastic with a quick temper and a filthy sense of humor, O‟Reilly chafed at the tight rules and regs more than the rest of them. Were it not for Eli‟s calming hand and Ace‟s ability to shoot out a tail light at a thousand meters, Cooper didn‟t think he would still be among them, but since the majority of the endless training went toward supporting their ability to shoot their targets to smithereens, Ace‟s bottom rung was plenty worth keeping him on the team. “Still,” Eli said, shaking his head. “You don‟t have to baby-sit me. Go on back, if you want.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 39 “Because I‟d rather chain myself to a desk than go on mini-furlough with you? Did you not hear the man? We‟ve got twelve hours, my friend. Shake a leg,” Cooper said, smacking Eli‟s thigh. “Where are we going?” Eli asked, standing and pulling on the clothes Cooper had found for him. In jeans and an untucked shirt, he looked like a college kid, all tanned arms and long legs, a narrow stripe of paler skin visible at the back of his neck where the sun hadn‟t hit. Nothing to do about the regulation haircut, but the rest of him could‟ve walked onto any campus and fit right in. The thought brought Cooper up short. Eli could have gone that route, stayed on in school, picked up a master‟s degree and entered BUD/S a couple years after him. Or he could have chosen Army over Navy or worked construction or taught kindergarten or sold cars. Any small thing could have changed Eli‟s course, or Cooper‟s, for that matter, and they never would have ended up on the same team. Cooper rubbed his chest; the idea physically hurt. “What?” Eli had his hand out, hovering, so Cooper guessed he hadn‟t hid his reaction. “Nothing. Just… nothing,” Cooper said. He stepped back before he did something dumb. He busied himself finding the Tevas he knew were buried at the bottom of his locker and strapped them on. They felt soft and insubstantial after months in regulation footwear. He wiggled his toes. Oh yeah. Even his toes were taking a vacation. “We‟re going to the beach,” he said. Eli laughed and stared at him. “What the fuck? Seriously?” Cooper slid his wallet in his back pocket and slipped on a pair of shades. He leaned close enough to see the quick breath Eli took and feel the instinctive sway of Eli‟s body toward him.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 40 “Seriously. I can‟t get you drunk, and it would take a good twentyfour hours of R&R for me to fuck you like I‟d like to,” Cooper said low and tight, gratified when Eli‟s eyes widened. He nodded when Eli reached down unselfconsciously to adjust himself beneath the zipper of those worn-in blue jeans. “Hold that thought. Right now we‟re going to PB, and we‟re chilling out.” “Chilling,” Eli echoed, sounding a little dazed. “Yup. Don‟t worry, I know it‟s not your natural bent. But it‟s like anything else. It just takes practice.”

PACIFIC Beach sat about ten miles north of Coronado as the crow flies. On a good day, they probably could have swum it faster than they could navigate through San Diego traffic. Ten miles but a world away, as far from the stranglehold of SEAL Qualification Training as Cooper could get and still leave time enough to do Eli any good. He aimed his cheap-ass import toward Mission Boulevard while Eli stretched out in the seat beside him with his head back and his eyes closed, wind in his face and sun in his hair. If he‟d been a dog, he‟d have stuck his head out the window. Cooper didn‟t bother putting up the soft top when he found a parking spot a few blocks off the beach. If anybody wanted his beater, they were welcome to it, and he‟d pocket the insurance money toward something that didn‟t crap out on him with equal parts frequency and regularity. They‟d timed the run pretty well. They arrived before the afternoon swells and the resulting influx of surfer dudes, so they staked out prime real estate and commenced with the chilling. Considering he hadn‟t known when he got up that morning that he‟d be facing anything more interesting

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 41 than a computer screen, Cooper thought he pulled together a little Beach Blanket Bingo pretty well. He brought towels to sit on, cold cans of Coke, and the widest variety the snack bar outside the commissary could offer. He‟d have to beg quarters next time he did laundry, but it was worth it to see Eli chow down on Twinkies like he hadn‟t eaten in days and even better to hear Eli‟s deep, satisfied sigh as he stretched out on the sand and linked his hands behind his head, baring a strip of skin at his belly that Cooper wished he could lean over and lick. “We ought to get off the reservation more,” Cooper said to take his mind off all the things he couldn‟t do to Eli on a public beach. “Yeah,” Eli said. “Let‟s run that up a flagpole, see if anyone salutes.” Smartass. “I‟m just saying, if this shit‟s rattling you, then it could probably use a little recalibration.” “So it‟s the training that needs adjusting, not me?” Eli sounded skeptical. “You‟re the least rattleable person I‟ve ever met, so, yeah, seems to me if there‟s a flaw, it‟s in the system, not you.” Eli squinted up at him. “Aw, Coop, I didn‟t know you cared.” Cooper snorted. “Then you haven‟t been paying attention.” That got another smile out of Eli, one that left his face relaxed and open. He took one hand from behind his head and reached out, tucking two fingers in the back of Cooper‟s shorts. Cooper glanced around. Nobody was looking; nobody seemed to give a shit. Cooper had thought the change of scenery would do Eli good, and it looked like he‟d been right. He‟d imagined playing some Ultimate

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 42 Frisbee, chatting up the always spectacular herd of beach bunnies that roamed free along the promenade, finding some taqueria for fish tacos and a medicinal shot of Patron, but Eli seemed content just as he was, so Cooper let him be. The next time Cooper looked over, Eli had fallen asleep, habitual lines of tension fading to nothing in the warm sun. Come to think of it, at this point, a nap probably did him as much good as a fuck, and it had the considerable advantage of being less likely to get them arrested or dishonorably discharged. Cooper stood guard, well, make that sat guard, for hours, tethered by the hook of Eli‟s slack fingers at his back, watching as the sun sauntered toward the horizon, pale blue sky and yellow clouds pulled in its wake. The beach slowly filled in around them; a regular crowd, by the look of it. Somebody put up a volleyball net nearby, and a boom box rattled out tunes a little ways over. Cooper got a few wary looks from the surfers as they passed on their way out despite his deliberately friendly wave. Could be he‟d forgotten how to look innocuous. Eli slept on, out of it to an almost disquieting degree, given how fast they‟d learned to sleep with one eye open and a thumb on the safety. The surfers started coming back to shore around dusk, settling with territorial ferocity on every square inch around them, their wetsuits and slicked-back hair as much a uniform as anything Cooper kept starched and polished in his boot locker. Cooper lifted his chin at a couple of them, an affable testosterone exchange that seemed to get across the message that he didn‟t give a shit whether they belonged there, he wasn‟t budging until Eli woke up. Twilight had drifted into full dark by the time Eli stirred, their reprieve fading fast. When he finally sat up and shook his head, brushing sand out of his hair, Cooper missed the warmth of fingers at his back.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 43 “Damn,” Eli said, stretching. “I can‟t remember the last time I slept like that.” “Guess you needed it.” “I guess so. I think my brain‟s tired.” Cooper nodded. “They get you used to the one thing, then they throw something else at you.” “The whole point is to see how we handle it,” Eli said, wrapping his arms around his knees as he stared out over the beach, surveying the shadowy tribe of surfers surrounding them, an indistinct swarm in the dark. “Today the answer would be, „Not well‟.” Cooper blew out a breath. Eli always was harder on himself than anyone else would be, with the possible exception of Master Chief Jerkoff. “We‟re doing some crazy shit, you get that, right?” Eli looked around, but Cooper pulled his attention back. “Not here, dumbass, at the base. If it gets to you now and then, there‟s no shame in it.” Eli‟s jaw tightened, tension creeping back onto his face. So much for making him feel better. “I owe it to the team to keep it together,” Eli said. “Finding out you‟re as human as the rest of us goes a long way too,” Cooper said. “Don‟t underestimate the power of a snit fit.” Eli grinned at him and shifted, but before he could move away, Cooper tugged him over and kissed him, tasting surprise and sun on his lips. He let the dark serve as chaperone, taking advantage of their momentary anonymity, the two of them as alone as they could be in a sea of people. Cooper rode out a slow surge of pleasure when Eli pressed

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 44 forward, deepening the kiss, his tongue a flicker of heat in Cooper‟s mouth, holding Cooper‟s head in place and taking his sweet, thorough time. Eli released him with a lick to his bottom lip that felt like a placeholder, suggestive and sure. It would do, until they found more time and a better place. It would certainly do. “Know what I really need?” Eli asked. Cooper tucked his hand up under Eli‟s shirt, finding warm skin, made bold by the dark and the way their small rectangle of Navy order continued to be blithely ignored by the locals. “Is that a trick question?” Eli shook his head, easing Cooper‟s hand away before it had a chance to wander where it shouldn‟t. “I like the way you think, but since we can‟t do that, how about you feed me instead.”

THEY walked a few blocks up toward the pavilion, passing a dozen better places in favor of funnel cakes from a stand. “How did you know they even serve that shit?” Cooper asked, queasiness in the face of all that rendered fat arguing with a low, lingering hum of arousal from the kiss on the beach. Every time Eli licked powdered sugar off his mouth, Cooper wanted to jump him. “Smelled ‟em,” Eli said around a mouthful. Food at the base ran the gamut from barely tolerable to downright revolting, so Cooper let it go. To each his own. Off the beach in the brighter lights of the promenade, Eli cut his usual swath through the crowd, girls stuttering to a stop when they caught sight of him, guys standing up straighter, their lizard brains recognizing

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 45 some vague and unfocused threat. Cooper had seen it play out before, and he knew he would again, but Eli didn‟t seem to give a shit about anything except stuffing his face. Cooper nudged him back across the promenade and hitched himself up onto the retaining wall, out of the flow of traffic. Eli leaned against the wall beside him, his hip tucked tight against Cooper‟s thigh. Even there, they got a lot more attention than they had down on the beach. One guy, a classic blonde California dude who looked more than a little baked, focused on them, looking from Eli to Cooper and back, his gaze narrow and not particularly amiable. After a minute, he came over. “We don‟t get your type around here much,” he said. Hello to you, too, asshole. “Our type?” Cooper asked, surprised at easily how his training kicked in, keeping his voice even while he catalogued their exit strategies. Part of him considered what he‟d do if the dude threw a “faggot” at him, while another part wondered with a sense of inevitability what had given them away. And then he wondered what the dude would do if he knew that Eli Jones could kill him with his pinky. “You know. Navy.” Oh. Well. Hard to argue with that. Beside him, he could feel Eli lighten up and realized that he, too, had been counting potential hostiles, fully prepared to ratchet up the badass factor as necessary. Good to know they were on the same page. “Yeah, they don‟t let us out much,” Eli said, all buddy-buddy as he pitched his greasy paper plate into a trash can and brushed sugar off his hands. The dude huffed at him. “Stay away from our pussy.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 46 Cooper bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. “That a problem around here?” “Uh, yeah. I don‟t know what you do to them, but all the tail gets whipped up over Navy boys. It sucks.” “I can honestly say we‟re not here for your pussy,” Eli said gravely. How he kept it together in the face of the guy‟s indignation was beyond Cooper; it was all Cooper could do not howl with laughter in his face. Maybe the guy needed it spelled out for him. “Let me put it to you this way: the only piece of ass he‟s interested in is mine,” Cooper said, startling a cough from Eli. Okay, maybe that wasn‟t strictly true: there were some genuine lookers strolling the promenade, and most of them had given Eli the once-over. Another day, Eli might have taken one of them up on it. But as a neutralizing argument, it worked like WD-40 on a squeaky hinge. The dude mulled that over for a minute, working a few things through, it looked like, then shrugged. “Oh. Uh. Okay. That‟s cool.” As he wandered off, Cooper dropped his head, laughing. “Oh, shit, that was funny.” Eli reached over and slid his hand around the back of Cooper‟s neck, shaking him lightly. “Let‟s head back.” “Why? We‟ve got a couple hours left,” Cooper said. “I‟m sorry, okay? I shouldn‟t have poked the guy. He bugged me.” “It‟s not that,” Eli said. “It‟s just… it‟s weird being out.” Hold up. “Wait, you mean what I said to the stoner? I was just jerking him around.” Eli smacked him on the back. “Not what I meant, but you‟d better hope he‟s too stoned to remember us tomorrow.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 47 Yeah, he had a point there. “I mean away from the base, out in the world. Decent food, people doing their thing, whatever it is,” Eli said. “I forget sometimes.” Cooper jumped down off the wall and faced Eli. Seemed like he had something to say; best be looking at him while he said it. “Forget what? What it‟s like?” “No.” Eli hesitated for a minute, clearly looking for words, and then finally said, “What we‟re doing this for.” Cooper nodded. Not much to say to that. Eli had come to it on his own, like Cooper figured he would. All he‟d needed was sleep and funnel cakes. Who knew? He sighed. “All right, let‟s go.” He took his time driving back to the base, giving Eli as much time as he could to get his game face back on. He watched it happen as Eli straightened in his seat, his mouth thinning to a narrow line as they drove through the gate. He didn‟t look like a college kid anymore, despite the sunburn etched on his cheekbones and his sandy clothes. No, he was once again one-hundred-percent soldier, lethal and alert. Good enough: Cooper had done his job. The rest of the team was still awake when they got back to the barracks. “You okay, Jones?” Boom-Boom asked while the rest of the guys pretended they weren‟t listening. “You bet,” Eli said, stripping off his civilian clothes like the disguise they were. Boom-Boom nodded, apparently satisfied, and the team scattered.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 48 They‟d been waiting, Cooper realized, to see if Eli could pull it together. What a heavy weight for a man to carry. Eli passed him on the way to the latrine with his kit. “Are you? Okay?” Cooper asked softly before he could stop himself, hearing the echo of Boom-Boom‟s question ring in his ear. Eli stopped, ducked his chin, and looked over at him, his eyes clear and bright. “Yeah. I‟m good.” He stepped toward the door, but then he paused and turned back. “Thanks.” Cooper sketched him a salute. “Any time.”

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“HEAD ‟em up, move ‟em out! That means you, too, Fitch!” Cooper poked his head around the corner and saw Eli, Boom-Boom, and the rest of the crew idling near the barracks door. To a man, they looked like they‟d been spit-polished and scrubbed squeaky clean. “Keep your pants on,” he called out. “I‟ve got a little problem here.” O‟Reilly snickered. “I heard they‟ve got stuff you can take for that.” Cooper flipped him off and went back to the ironing board, staring down at the crease he‟d been working on. Its longitude was off by at least a degree, maybe more; if Columbus had used it for a map, he‟d have discovered Bermuda, and they‟d all be wearing shorts. Fuck it. If the Navy wanted to court-martial him over his ironing skills, they were welcome to try. His fingers fumbled on his belt as he tried to fasten it, and he grumbled under his breath. Fun. They were headed to Ketchum‟s for some fun, goddammit. One last hurrah. This time tomorrow, they‟d be one step closer to bona fide. Yeah, they‟d be the Fuckin‟ New Guys, headed into a year or more of probation before they‟d get their Budweisers, but still. They‟d been kept together, all seven of them, for SEAL Qualification Training. It was pretty damn rare for a whole boat crew to weather BUD/S intact, let alone get all the way through SQT. Cooper was grateful for every day they got as a unit; hell, they all were. They never took it for granted, not when the only easy day was yesterday.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 50 Word had already come down that him and Eli, Chavez, and O‟Reilly were all being assigned to Team Seven, stashed right there in Coronado. He‟d never been much of a church-goer, but even he recognized the hand of God when he saw it at work. They‟d tapped BoomBoom as a third officer on an East Coast team, which got him closer to his family. Wallbanger was headed to Fort Bragg for medic training, and the brass was making noises about sending Mutt to Naval Intelligence, which could mean anywhere from down the hall to clear across the country. Cooper didn‟t want to calculate the odds of the four of them left pulling duty on the same squadron, let alone in the same platoon, but it wasn‟t impossible—a tight crew worked better than a loose one—but that was a worry for some other day. Tonight should be a party, not a wake.

“BIG day tomorrow,” Cooper heard somebody chirp in his ear as he signaled the bartender for another bottle of Bud, handing over a five dollar bill as a reward for getting some attention. Draft was cheaper, but he was celebrating, damn it. He turned to say hello to Melinda… or was it Belinda? He couldn‟t quite lick her name off the tip of his tongue, but he knew that she had a butterfly tattoo on her right asscheek; he remembered watching it bounce up and down while he took her from behind. He‟d always been an ass man, and best he could recall, Belinda exhibited a fine, fine example. In fact…. “You‟re right about that,” he said, reaching out to lay a love pat on that fine, fine behind, but she‟d moved on without stopping, making a beeline for a group of new recruits who‟d just walked in the door. He guessed she‟d checked him off her list. Fine by him, now that he thought

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 51 about it; she‟d had a cat that made him sneeze, and it wasn‟t like he was looking for a girlfriend. Unlike some people, Cooper had no problem with the SEAL-fuckers who swarmed the bars on the beach. He always treated them right and made sure they had a good time. He steered clear of the young ones with stars in their eyes who were looking for more than what he could offer before curfew. He gravitated toward the older ones, who‟d been around the block and picked up a few pelts along the way; it just made things so much easier. He figured they got what they wanted, and so did he. But Eli, he saw things differently, and that girl over there in the corner, the redhead trying to read Braille off Eli‟s inseam, well, she‟d find out soon enough she was barking up the wrong tree. Cooper hadn‟t ever had a certain type: in general, if they smelled good, took care of themselves, and were willing, count him in. He hardly ever left a bar empty-handed, but Eli tended to be more particular. To tell the truth, he was damn picky. He wanted a woman with half a brain in her head and a little fire in her eyes, and he had little tolerance for small talk or bullshit. The girl currently snagging her acrylics on his zipper didn‟t fit any part of that description, so Cooper watched to see how Eli would extract himself this time. Sometimes Cooper had to step up and take one for the team. Not that he minded: the ones Eli threw back were usually top-grade, cream of the crop fuckable. Wait for it, wait… yup, there went Eli‟s hand, trigger fast on the girl‟s wrist, pulling her claws out of his lap. And here came the lean, narrowed eyes, something polite but cutting, and there she went, a mess of auburn curls bouncing in time to her tits, seeking easier prey. Cooper watched her walk back to the bar—legs up to here, hair down to there―and shook his head. What was wrong with letting a little trim come to you now and then instead of working for it? Most men would kill to be in Eli‟s boots. He got the pick of the litter wherever they went, but Cooper

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 52 couldn‟t remember the last time Eli had left a bar with anything more than a belly full of beer and hot wings. “He‟s mean as a snake,” Cooper called out as the redhead passed him. She glanced up at him, confused. He winked over at Eli. “Impotent too,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry over to the corner. Eli just rolled his eyes. Cooper wondered if he should bother to define “impotent” for her, since she still looked confused, but decided if she couldn‟t handle three syllables, he didn‟t want her either. There, he had some standards after all. Picking up his sweating beer bottle, he maneuvered his way over to Eli‟s table and thunked the bottle down. “I don‟t know about you, but I‟d give my left nut to switch to whiskey,” he said, sitting down and slinging one arm across the back of Eli‟s chair. Eli grunted something that might have been agreement. “They wouldn‟t call us in this late, would they?” “I wouldn‟t put it past them,” Eli said. SQT was better in a lot of ways than BUD/S had been, but unlike the early days when they were either on or they were off, now they had to be ready at any hour of the day or night to get beeped in for an exercise. It made sleep uneasy and getting drunk impossible. Nobody wanted a shitfaced SEAL with access to flippers and a loaded weapon. The entire unit had been on stand-by for weeks, and it wore on them. Just like it was supposed to. Even so, it beat that mind-numbing stretch they‟d spent in the classroom after Airborne Training. Christ, talk about exhausting. He‟d rather do Hell Week twice than go through that again. Thank God for Mutt, who‟d used time he could have spent sleeping making outlines and

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 53 bullet points and goddamn flash cards. They‟d sat and quizzed each other until their eyes crossed on all kinds of esoteric shit they might need once in the next ten years, and that was only if they didn‟t fall wrong out of a plane, or drown, or blow themselves up, or get gut shot in some alley somewhere. Cooper shook himself hard enough to make the table wobble. No point thinking like that. See, whiskey was the answer, had to be; he just knew it. All he needed was a couple of shots or a good hard tumble. Or both. Which led him right back to Eli, sitting there all by himself when he could be balls-deep in any one of at least six different women, and that was just counting the ones between here and the bar. “You could‟ve bought her a drink,” Cooper said. Eli twisted a corner of his mouth. “Saving my money for better things,” he said. His own business, someday. A family. Cooper had heard it before, and he knew he‟d hear it again. “If you live that long,” Cooper said, flicking him on the side of the head. “You can die from blue balls, you know.” Eli shot him a sideways glance. “Not likely.” Aw, shit, now he‟d gone and done it. Cooper had been happy enough to sit there, drink his stupid self-imposed four-beer limit, admire the scenery, and watch Mickey and Ace hustle beach bums at pool, but no, Eli had to go and make lewd insinuations. He might as well have palmed Cooper right there in the bar. He got the same result. Cooper shifted in his chair as his pants got tight across the zipper.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 54 “Like I said, mean,” he said, reaching under the table to covertly adjust himself. Eli raised his bottle in Cooper‟s direction. “But not impotent.” Not hardly. “That a come-on, sailor?” “Just a statement of fact,” Eli said. In a pig‟s eye. Flirtatious son-of-a-bitch. Cooper knocked his shoe against Eli‟s under the table and then lifted his head, searching out the rest of the team. They‟d spent the night eating junk, imbibing judiciously, playing pool, and throwing darts. They‟d started to wind down just as Ketchum‟s revved up, the mating dance of the wild American naval seaman in full swing, fueled by cheap alcohol and the sweet scent of musk in the air. Wallbanger had already left and come back once, his shirt rumpled, a livid purple bruise coming up on his neck. Not too surprising—he hadn‟t earned his nickname from a drink. Funny how you could practically smell the horniness in the air… or maybe that was just the company he was keeping. “Be just my luck,” Cooper said. “What?” Eli asked. “If we got called in just when things are getting interesting,” he said. “Why, you got your eye on somebody?” “Yeah, I do,” Cooper said, and he leveled Eli his best come-hither look, gave it to him with both barrels straight between the eyes. Eli choked on his beer, actually spit some out on the table. That‟s right, buddy: women swooned at that look, babies cooed and dogs rolled on their backs to get their bellies scratched. He‟d brought down bigger prey than Eli Jones with that look; hell, at this point, Eli was

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 55 pretty much a gimme. Cooper tamped down his smug satisfaction and handed over a paper napkin, biting his cheek as Eli mopped first his face and then the table. “You got something in mind?” Eli asked, still coughing into his hand. He‟d reddened up real nice; could blame it on the beer he‟d breathed in, but Cooper knew better. “As a matter of fact….”

“SKINNY-dipping. You want to go skinny-dipping?” Cooper looked up from his seat on the sand, and then he went back to tugging off his shoes and socks. “Probably better if we leave our shorts on.” “Yeah, probably,” Eli said. Still sounded like he didn‟t quite get it. “You didn‟t already get your fill of sea water?” “Hey, if I can‟t drink whiskey,” Cooper said, stripping while Eli scoped out the deserted beach, looking more confused than that redhead trying to wrap her brain around “impotent.” Cooper folded his uniform into a careful pile, pants on the bottom, shirt on top. All that ironing, for naught. “You coming, Jones? Or do I have to take care of myself?” That must‟ve got through to Eli, because he plopped his ass down and started pulling off his shoes. Cooper spared a thought to what it might look like—two guys in their underwear headed into the ocean at midnight—but he shook it off. They were Navy; Navy men did weird shit all the time. Besides, they‟d

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 56 only passed a dozen people on the beach, if that many, and the air was cold enough that the water felt warm when he first stuck his toe in—cold enough to discourage most folks from even taking a stroll, let alone going in for a dip. Hell, they‟d spent the past year up to their necks in colder water than this, hours and hours freezing their balls up into their bellies, peckers shriveling right along with their pruny fingers. Cold water wasn‟t anything new, and it sure wasn‟t enough to deter him, not when he had Eli standing there mostly naked. “You just gonna stand there looking pretty?” he called when he got ankle-deep. Eli walked toward him, long and lean, moonlight picking out the bright in his hair. Damn pretty, that much was true, even if he did give Eli shit over it. “You gonna make it worth my while coming in?” “Try me.” He waited to make sure Eli was really coming and then swam out far enough that he didn‟t think anybody could see them from shore without night vision and binocs; if anybody was looking that hard, they deserved a show. The swim warmed him up, and even if it hadn‟t, Eli coming up under him, nudging at his hips, got blood moving in every direction. Then he didn‟t think about the cold anymore, or whether his beeper might be going off in his sandy, wrinkled pants, or what it meant that he‟d rather be treading water in the dark with Eli than sniffing out his next girl at a nice warm bar. He didn‟t think about much of anything, really, because Eli took his face in warm hands and put cold lips against his mouth, opened him up to a salty tongue and heat. Now, finally, he could see the benefit to that yearlong half hour he‟d spent one dismal afternoon in the deep end of the pool with his hands tied

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 57 behind his back, sucking air and flopping around. Drown-proofing, they called it. If you lived, they let you almost die some other way the next day. Learning to hold his breath that long came in useful now, though, what with his brain submerged in his dick and both hands crammed down Eli‟s soaked boxers, cloth grabbing at him when he tried to get a grip. He pulled back for a breath and grinned. “It‟d look real bad if we die out here. Boom-Boom‟d never forgive us.” Eli shook his head, getting water all in Cooper‟s face. “This was your bright idea, sport.” Uh-uh, no way was he taking responsibility. “You started it.” “Did not.” “Did, too.” It went on like that for a while before Cooper went under, as much to shut Eli up as anything, and found that he had an excellent angle to swallow down Eli‟s bobbing hard-on. So he did. Eli thrashed around for a minute, legs churning, pulling his hair hard enough to hurt, but Cooper kept at it, and eventually, Eli found a rhythm that both kept him afloat and let him thrust into Cooper‟s mouth. Drown-proof by now, for sure, given how long he stayed under, and how he had one hand otherwise occupied, stroking himself right along in time to Eli‟s dick slipping in and out. He didn‟t think he had quite the knack for cock-sucking that Eli did; he hadn‟t had the practice, for one thing. Besides, there was something he liked about being face-to-face while they did whatever they were doing, and chances to linger were few and far between. He liked watching what he was doing write itself on Eli‟s face—he could read the man like a book. But this worked, too, the nudge and sway of Eli‟s legs against his shoulders, everything muffled and gray around him. Hard heat pressed in

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 58 against the back of his throat, their unspoken circuit completed with his hand jerking faster and faster, coming just as Eli started to lose it above him. Cooper twisted in the water, getting his shoulder tucked up underneath Eli‟s arm as his head went under, his legs shaky and loose. “All right, buddy, all right,” he murmured against Eli‟s neck, holding him across the chest. He stretched out on his back and floated, pulling Eli up with him. They‟d learned how to do that too. Rescue hold, they called it.

COOPER didn‟t rush walking back, pleased that Eli let him set the pace. He could still taste salt water in his mouth, the sea and something else besides, sand squishing between his toes. Willie and the boys were roaming free under his uniform pants thanks to the balled-up wad of wet shorts he was carrying, all riled up from the unexpected freedom, still raring to go. If it‟d been left up to him, he‟d have headed straight back to the base, found a hot shower to duck Eli under, and mussed him up a little more, but Eli wanted last call with the crew, and Cooper didn‟t argue. He understood. He did. They‟d gotten to the point where the crew felt like a body with seven heads, seven hearts. Hard to let that go. Boom-Boom had taken up residence at the corner table along with Chavez and Mutt. A demolished plate of nachos sat pitifully in the middle of the table, limp chips and a pile of pushed-aside refried beans all that remained. Mutt saw them first, scooting his chair over to make room as he said, “Where‟ve you been? It looks like you—” “Went for a swim,” Eli said.

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 59 Boom-Boom raised his eyebrows; not much got by him. He‟d never said anything, but Cooper knew he knew. He‟d be a hell of an OIC someday. Cooper waited for the lecture—when Boom-Boom got going, there was nothing to do but sit there and take it—but all he said was, “Stupid motherfuckers.” Eli looked as relieved as Cooper felt; they‟d gotten off pretty light, all things considered. Maybe Boom-Boom was feeling it, too: getting what they‟d been working for, but losing something in the getting of it. When Eli turned to Chavez, answering some question Cooper hadn‟t heard, Boom-Boom leaned over and motioned Cooper closer. Shit, maybe they hadn‟t gotten off light after all. “You keep an eye on him once I‟m gone,” Boom-Boom said, indicating Eli. “He gets rode harder than the rest of us.” Cooper nodded. “I‟ll be on him like a coat of paint.” “Yeah, well, you might want to keep an eye on that, too, Coop.” Cooper ducked his head. “It‟s not—” Boom-Boom waved him off. “It is what it is.” Cooper looked at him. It is what it is. Huh. Better explanation than anything he‟d come up with, not that he‟d burned too many brain cells trying to figure it out. He slapped Boom-Boom on the back. He didn‟t trust his voice, suddenly, not to give away more than he felt like sharing. Eli set his back against the wall and looked over at him, found a way with one eyebrow to ask him if everything was okay. Cooper nodded, leaned in so Eli could hear him, and said, “You think we‟ll ever have it better than we‟ve got it right now?” Eli sat silent for a minute and then said, “If we‟re lucky.”

Maritime Men | Janey Chapel 60 Cooper listened to Mickey and Mutt arguing across the table about Homer Simpson while Boom-Boom used a chip to unearth a hidden stash of guacamole. Then he looked over to the other side of the bar, where Wallbanger and O‟Reilly were beating the pants off some poor squidling at pool, laughing about something—some dumb thing O‟Reilly had said, if history revealed anything at all. He‟d miss them; damn if he wouldn‟t. “I don‟t know,” Cooper said, pushing his chair back on two legs, propping his back against the wall beside Eli. “This is pretty sweet.” Eli narrowed his eyes at him. “You‟re the only man I know who‟s more maudlin sober than drunk.” “I‟m serious.” “So am I,” Eli said, leaning forward, setting his forearms on the table. He looked at Cooper over his shoulder and said, “Enjoy what you‟ve got; you never know what‟s coming.” Cooper shrugged and dropped his chair back flat on the floor, wedging his shoulder tight against Eli‟s, where he planned to stay until somebody peeled him off. “Ain‟t that the truth.”

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JANEY CHAPEL found a paperback romance in her grandmother‟s bookcase at the age of eleven, inhaled it in one sitting, and then proceeded to devour thousands of romance novels in a variety of genres over the course of several decades. Eventually, her husband said, “Stop reading! Start writing!” After a lifetime in the South, Janey now lives in the Midwest with her husband and daughter, where she volunteers with the PTO, struggles to adapt to actual winter, and writes fiction in her spare time. Visit her blog at http://janeychapel.livejournal.com/.

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Maritime Men ©Copyright Janey Chapel, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors‟ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America August, 2009 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-039-0