Title: Infatuation

Characters: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce/ Father John Patrick "Dago Red" Mulcahy

Rating: M for Sexual Content

Summary: There's a difference between seeing someone and noticing them. Hawkeye's POV.

Author's Note: Based on the characters from the movie. This is Hawkeye's POV. I intend to write a second chapter continuing on from Dago's POV. Please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them all. Thanks for reading.


I don't know when I started to actively notice him. Dago has always been there, hovering just on the edge of acknowledgment to everyone in the camp; minding his own business; always thrilled whenever someone remembered to say hello to him. I know I always saw him, even spoke to him, but there's a difference between seeing someone and noticing them.

For instance, I never noticed what Dago wore each day. I assume that, like the rest of us, he always wore his army-issue uniform, but did he always wear the black shirt underneath? Were there always silver crosses on his lapels? Did he ever take off the cross that hung just a bit lower than his dog tags? I couldn't remember ever noticing, or even caring, and couldn't for the life me understand why I might care or notice such things now, but life is funny that way. Once you start to notice someone…it's hard to stop.

Each morning at breakfast, Dago would be in his usual seat by the time Trapper, Duke, Spearchucker, and I would wander in for our daily slop. His breakfast would be half-eaten and pushed a little ways in front of him as he read passages from his pocket Bible. The four of us would always sit a few feet away, engrossed in our own conversation. Once I began to notice Dago more, I started sitting on the opposite side of the table so that I could discretely watch the camp chaplain.

I don't know why my fascination in the man had been piqued so thoroughly, but he had become so curious a specimen to me. When the rest of us fell apart, Dago was always there to pick up the pieces. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever fallen apart…and if so, who had picked up his pieces? Duke was talking about his latest attempt to woo Hotlips O'Houlihan, and I listened with one ear while the rest of me was tuned into Dago.

I wondered what passage he was reading in his Bible. Not being a religious man myself, I didn't much care what it was, but I wondered if he found it applicable to his own life. I noticed the little Bible had a worn, black cover and a small faded purple ribbon for a page marker. I wondered if Dago was near sighted, as he always rested his elbows on the table and held the book less than a foot from his face, but I'd never seen him wear glasses. Was it vanity? He seemed like the least vain man I'd ever known.

I wondered how old Dago was. He didn't look any older than the rest of us, and in the interactions I'd had with him, he seemed much younger, or maybe just more naïve. He had such a child-like innocence about him, it seemed so cruel that it would be shattered in such a place as this.

As if sensing my thoughts, Dago's blue eyes flicked up and caught mine and I quickly looked down at my tray, hoping the brim of my hat would hide my guilt at being caught. After a minute, I chanced another look in his direction. He'd closed his Bible and laid it aside and was resting his chin on a fist, looking out the plastic window of the tent. His black and gold rosary beads were wrapped around his hand, cross dangling next to his wrist. I wondered what he was thinking about.

My fascination with Dago didn't limit itself just to when he was in visual range. Oh no…he seemed to start plaguing my idle thoughts as well. I remember sitting in the Swamp with Duke and Trapper one evening, enjoying a very stiff gin martini when he crossed my mind. I was sure that none of my tent mates shared my new-found interest in the priest, but for some reason, I felt compelled to talk about him in his absence.

"Where do you suppose Dago got his nickname?" I asked, interrupting Duke's explanation of something I hadn't been listening to.

"Dago?" He asked, screwing up his face as if trying to make a connection to the non-sequitor.

"Yeah, Dago Red. Where do you think it comes from?"

"Gee, Hawkeye," Duke said as he scratched his head. "I dunno. Don't suppose he's ever said and I sure never asked. Why?"

"I dunno. I was just curious is all."

"Maybe we should ask him," Trapper offered, his eyes tracking something outside the tent. "Hey, Dago!"

I turned my head to see Dago just as he was startled out of his reverie by Trapper's call as he passed by our tent. He was looking between the three of us, obviously uncertain if he should continue on his way or come towards us. I didn't blame him for his hesitance. He typically didn't seek us out unless he had to. Though I'd never noticed him seek anyone else out either. Did he have any friends here?

"Come here a minute," Trapper beckoned, waving the priest to the swamp.

Dago obeyed and came into the tent, pushing his hands in his pockets nervously. "Hello boys," he said in that shy, uncertain voice of his. The back of my mind registered that he had a very nice voice, and part of me wondered what he sounded like when he wasn't so shy and awkward. I'd never paid any attention.

"Hawkeye wanted to know where 'Dago Red' came from." Thanks for that, Trap. I looked at Dago, trying not to look bewildered by being ratted out by Trapper. Dago's eyes shifted to me.

"Oh," he said, then seemed to hesitate on the explanation. "Well, you see, uh…"

My lips were quavering as I fought to keep from grinning. Why was I finding his discomfort so endearing? His cheeks were flushing ever so slightly and he pushed a hand through his reddish-brown hair as he gave a nervous laugh.

"When I was in seminary I was asked to assist with mass. I was so nervous, and a friend of mine was helping me to get the offering together before the service. He saw how nervous I was and he poured me a glass of the wine and told me to drink it. I did, but it didn't help, so he gave me another drink…then a third. At that time, a lot of churches used Dago Red wine for the offering because it was more cost effective, but it was quite strong. Unfortunately, it wasn't until the third glass that the effects of the first two kicked in. Needless to say, I was practically falling down drunk by the time it was time for services. My friend told everyone I'd taken ill and put me to bed, but from that day on he called me Dago Red."

The three of us were practically in stitches by the time Dago finished regaling us with his tale. Oddly enough, I had no trouble picturing a young Dago Red, bumbling around nervously and managing to get himself completely plastered by accident. His explanation only gave me more questions though.

"So why do you go by Dago here?"

"That same friend followed me to chaplain school," he told me. "Into the army. When the others heard him refer to me as nothing but 'Dago Red' they—like you—wanted to why, and after that they started calling me by the name. I guess by the time I got here, it was just easier to tell people to call me Dago Red than Father Mulcahy."

Duke and Trapper were still in the throes of side splitting laughter, but my own had died away until I was left with just a fond smile on my face. I was still looking up at Dago from my cot and his eyes hadn't left mine, though I could tell he was aware of Trapper and Duke's continued guffaws as his cheeks burned a brilliant shade of red to match his name.

"Was there anything else?" I could also tell he was aching to leave. No matter how humorous his story might be, I got the distinct impression that he thought we were laughing at him personally. My chest ached at the thought.

"No, thanks for enlightening us, Dago." I tried to give him a friendly smile, but he averted his eyes and left our tent in haste.

I picked up a nearby magazine and launched it at Trapper and Duke. "Pipe down you guys. I think we hurt his feelings."

"How?" Trapper said, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all day."

"Yeah, but I think he thought we were having a laugh at his expense."

"Oh, come on, Hawk." Trapper said, sobering up. "He's gotta know people are going to ask about the name. And it is a funny story."

"Yeah, but the guy's sensitive enough already without you boobs splitting a seam."

"Gee, when did you become such a buzz kill?"

I ignored the insult, swallowing down the rest of my martini, and pushed off my bunk, muttering something about going to the latrine before I headed off after Dago. He was only about 10 paces ahead of me, heading towards his tent and I gave a short whistle as I jogged to catch up with him.

"Sorry about Trapper and Duke, Dago." I said as I fell into stride beside him.

He looked over at me briefly before looking down at the ground as we continued to walk. "Oh, it's okay. I suppose it is a rather funny story."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to think we were laughing at you." I suddenly felt quite stupid and really had no idea why I was trying to make him feel better. Was he even feeling bad?

"Oh, of course not." He stopped then and turned towards me, making me nearly skid to a halt as his piercing blue eyes seemed to cut through me. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Now I was lost. "Talk about?"

"I've noticed you watching me for several days." He said softly. My humiliation felt nearly complete. "I just thought maybe there was something you wanted to talk about but were afraid to come to me."

"I…no…well, I…" I was starting to sound just as uncertain of myself as he did! "I just realized that I've never really gotten to know you, you know? I know you're the resident holy man and I'm the resident non-believer, but I don't think there's any reason why we shouldn't be friends, right?"

His smile made me feel very strange. "Of course there isn't. I'd like very much to be your friend. I consider everyone here a friend, regardless of their faith…or lack thereof."

I felt myself smiling goofily at him.

"You don't have to be afraid to speak to me, you know." His voice was a little softer, but more self-assured. We were about the same height, looking into each other's eyes. He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I promise not to cram the word of God down your throat."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Obviously Dago was used to being unconsciously avoided by the rest of the camp and knew it was because of his collar rather than his character. He smiled brightly at my laugh. We stood there as an awkward silence came over us. I found myself wanting to be in his presence, but realized I had nothing of value to say. He was looking at me with slightly raised eyebrows and I realized the ball was sitting in my court.

"Right, well, I'll keep that in mind." I told him, trying to smile casually. "You don't have to avoid the Swamp like the plague either, you know. You're as welcome there as everyone else."

"Thanks, Hawkeye. "

I could have sworn he'd said my name before, probably a million times, but it felt like I was hearing for the first time and I smiled again.

"Well," he said, obviously trying to end the awkward silence I kept managing to bestow upon him. "I was just headed to bed. Goodnight, Hawkeye."

"Goodnight, Dago."

He smiled and nodded and turned to resume his course before another thought struck me.

"Hey, Dago…what's your real name?"

He turned back with a strange expression, as if no one had ever asked him before. "John. John Patrick Mulcahy."

"John," I smiled. "Goodnight, John."

Dumbstruck by the fact that I'd not only asked, but had called him by his given name, Dago stood there for several moments before I turned and started back for the Swamp. I fought the urge to turn around and look at him the entire way back.

Trapper and Duke were playing cards when I got back, a cigarette hanging between Trapper's lips as they both looked up at me. "Did you forget which direction the latrine was?"

"What?" I asked stupidly as I fell back into my bunk.

"You said you were going to the latrine, but instead you went chasing after Dago." Duke replied.

"What's up with you, Hawk? Why the sudden interest in the chaplain?" Trapper said, inspecting me closely.

"Lay off, you guys, I'm just trying to be nice to him. The guy could use a friend or two."

"You think he honestly wants to hang around a bunch of low-life degenerate nurse-chasers like us?" Trapper asked, eyebrows rising.

"I'm sure we're not his first pick, but do you see anyone else ever giving him the time of a day?"

"It's just…weird having him around, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong, Dago's a nice guy, but I feel like I have to be on my best behavior around him. Like I'm in church or something." Duke said.

I rolled my eyes rather than replied. "I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to make him feel welcome."

I lay back on my bunk, going back to ignoring my bunk mates as I began to evaluate why, all of a sudden, I had started to care so much about Dago. It was more than simply wanting to be nice. I was stealing looks at him like I would one of the nurses. He seemed to be constantly on my mind. I wondered what he was thinking….It hit me like a ton of shrapnel straight to the gut…I somehow had developed a crush on the priest.

I felt frozen in my bunk at the thought; mortified, disgusted, and oddly aroused all at once. I wanted to be sick. I wasn't a fairy! Not that I had anything against homosexuals, but I wasn't one of them! I liked breasts, I liked girls! I certainly did not like men, especially men who were not just straight, but out of everyone's league all together. What had happened to me? Was I starting to crack up over here? I knew I couldn't say anything to anyone about this, especially not Trapper or Duke…or even Dago. I could imagine the horrified look on his face… I knew I also couldn't exactly go back to pretending Dago didn't exist. Not after I'd just vowed my friendship to him. Oh, fuck…what a mess.

I suddenly remembered something that happened a few weeks ago. Dago had come to me in something very near to a panic. Painless had told him in confession that he thought he was experiencing some kind of latent homosexuality. Dago had been quite upset and had mumbled something about some sins that couldn't be absolved, but I hadn't really paid much attention to it at the time. I knew it was serious, though, and I promised him I'd talk to Painless, and had even convinced Dago to help us stage a suicide, but the whole matter had really shaken him up, and the homosexual advances hadn't even been at him. I couldn't imagine what he might do if I started coming on to him. Hell, I didn't know what I would do if I started coming on to him.

My mind suddenly betrayed me by supplying a rather vivid image of myself and Dago locking lips in a moment of heated passion. I took a ragged breath and shook my head, feigning a sneeze at that odd looks from Trapper and Duke. I rolled on my side, facing away from them, my heart hammering in my chest and my dick so hard it hurt. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

I didn't sleep that night. Instead I thought about all the nurses I'd like to have a turn with. I thought about my wife and her glorious tits. I thought about Betsy May Anderson from junior high who had developed far faster than the rest of the girls. Many a cold nights in Crabapple Cove I had dreamed of what lay hidden beneath her tight little sweaters. She had been the subject of most of my pre-pubescent fantasies, and even a few post-pubescent ones too. Never, never had I fantasized about a guy. Never had the urge to kiss another man, never gotten aroused by the mere thought of it. It was disturbing, but by dawn I had convinced myself it was just a product of loneliness. I would find myself a nurse and work out my sexual frustrations and that would be that.

But when the four of us stumbled into breakfast as usual, my eyes immediately fell on Dago. He was rubbing his eyes tiredly as if he'd gotten as much sleep as I had. Trapper and Duke both looked at me with sullen expressions, waiting for me to lead the way to our new 'friend'. How many suspicions would be raised if I backed out now? I sighed heavily and carried my tray to where Dago was sitting. I sat directly across from him this time. Trapper sat next to me, leaving Duke and Spearchucker to sit next to Dago.

"Morning, Dago." I managed; my voice steadier than I felt.

He dropped his hand away from his face and gave a quick look to each other us. "Good morning."

"Sleep okay, Red?" Trapper asked as he speared a potato off his tray and shoveled it into his mouth. "You and Hawkeye look like you spent the night together."

My head whipped around at Trapper. "What's that supposed to mean?" I barked, a little too guiltily.

I was aware that all eyes were on me now. "Gee, Hawk, I just meant that it looks like neither of you got any sleep. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I snipped, reaching for the salt in front of Dago and furiously sprinkling some on my powdered eggs.

"Oookay." Trapper drawled, turning his attention back to the others. "Forgive him, Father, sleepless nights make him a little cranky."

"I understand," Dago said softly. I flicked my eyes up and found him looking at me curiously. I shoveled eggs into my mouth before letting my thoughts make their way out of my mouth.

"Why didn't you sleep, Dago?"

"I just have a hard time falling asleep sometimes," he admitted. "I can't seem to shut my mind off."

"Tell me about it," I grumped into my tray.

"Pardon?" He asked gently.

"I know what you mean," I said more clearly, my eyes coming up to meet his again briefly before we heard Radar from the other side of the mess tent holler 'Choppers!'

A collective groan went up and Trapper and I both furiously shoveled down as much food as we could. Dago, Duke and Spearchucker were getting up to leave with everyone else and my eyes caught on the black and gold beaded rosary sitting next to Dago's forgotten tray.

"You forgot your beads…" My voice trailed off as it was lost in the din, knowing Dago hadn't heard me. I sighed and reached across the table, picking up the beads. I was about to put them in my pocket for safe keeping, but knew I'd be taking off my pants and trading them for scrubs in a few moments and didn't want the necklace to get lost, so instead I looped it over my neck and tucked the excess length down the front of my t-shirt.

Trapper was looking at me oddly before he raised two fingers in the air and mockingly drew a cross in front of me. "Go in peace, my child." He teased. I socked him in the arm much harder than was possibly necessary and hurried away from the table.

The OR was a madhouse of meatball surgery. I quickly lost count of patients and time spent standing on my exhausted feet. Trapper and Duke were exchanging off color jokes that I normally would have added my two sense on, but the bleeding kid in front of me was taking all of my focus as I tried to find the shrapnel lodged in one of his major organs. Someone leaned down close the boy's face and a ribbon of purple caught my eye for a second. Dago.

"Dago, I need your help." I said wearily, needing an extra set of hands. He looked up at me, terrified of what task I was about to give him. It was obvious Dago could only just stomach the sight of everything that happened in the OR, but he was good enough to help us out in any capacity we needed him…even when he nearly passed out from it.

"Lucy! Give him some gloves." I hollered to the nurse walking passed my table. I watched Dago hold his shaking hands out to the nurse as she gloved him, then he turned to me. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Dago, but your fingers are smaller than mine and more nimble than most. I need you to put your finger into the hole here and carefully feel around for a piece of shrapnel. Can you do that?"

Dago's face went almost as white as his mask and he swayed on his feet.

"Dago…" I said with warning, hoping that the sound of my voice would keep him from passing out. "I need you on this."

He nodded weakly and I passed off the instrument in my hand to the nurse at my left as I reached for Dago's hand, guiding him to the entry wound. To his credit, his hands were far steadier than the rest of him and he only grimaced momentarily as I plunged his finger in carefully. I kept my eyes on his face, making sure he wasn't about to pass out as he gingerly felt around.

"That's it…you're doing great…" I coached, suddenly uncomfortably aware that I still had his rosary around my neck like some sort of sick love token I'd stolen.

"I…I think I feel it." Dago's voice broke me from my thoughts and I watched him carefully retract his finger, sliding it carefully along the sides of the organ until it emerged, covered in deep red blood. A bloody piece of silver glinted under the operating light on the tip of his finger. We all stared at it strangely for a minute before the nurse next to Dago picked it off his finger and tossed it into the pan on the instrument tray, snapping us back into the present.

"Quickly, feel around for anything else Dago." I instructed, knowing I needed to get this boy stitched up fast before he lost more blood. Dago did as I told him, concentration on the effort and feeling all around the wound before he looked up at me and shook his head. "Good…thank you, Dago. You may just have saved this boy's life."

He retrieved his finger from the wound as I resumed my work, backpedaling slightly away from the table as that look of nausea washed over him again. I vaguely heard him excuse himself before he rushed out of the room. Poor guy…

"That's the last of them, folks," Henry Blake's voice gave the joyous news and several of us gave tired cheers before we closed up our last patient and peeled the soiled gloves off our hands. I retreated to the washroom, eager to get out of my gown and wash my hands. Dago was sitting on the bench, doubled over with his head in his hands. I felt immensely guilty.

"You okay?" I asked, tapping the toe of his boot with mind since the rest of me was covered in someone else's blood.

"I just don't feel too well," he admitted quietly.

"You can add 'meatball surgeon' to your resume," I joked, trying to help lighten the mood.

He looked up at me with a pale face, obviously not amused. "Hawkeye…"

"I'm sorry," I told him gently, taking off my gown, hat and mask and throwing them in the dirty laundry bin. "You really did an exceptional job in there, though. I really couldn't have saved that kid without your help."

He looked skeptical but simply put his head back in his hands. I began to wash up just as the others started trickling in behind me.

"I'm bushed," Duke said as he slid down next to Dago and practically fell over onto the priest, resting his head on Dago's shoulder. Dago raised his head to look at Duke, who seemed to realize who he'd chosen to lean again. "Oh, sorry, Dago."

"It's okay."

I couldn't help but watch the exchange, part of me wishing it had been my head on his shoulder, but I stuffed those thoughts aside quickly. Dago stood, somewhat unsteady on his feet and mumbled another excuse as he left.

"Boy, he's really shaken up," Duke voiced, intensifying my guilt. I finished washing up, changed back into my olive drab fatigues, and made my own excuse to leave. I somehow instinctively knew that Dago had gone to his tent, and I crossed the short distance from the OR to his tent, knocking softly on the door.

"Come in," came the barely audible reply.

I opened the door of his tent and saw Dago lying on his back on his cot, one arm thrown across his eyes as if to shield out all visual stimuli and light. He didn't even bother looking to see who I was before he spoke.

"I'm alright, Hawkeye."

"How did you know it was me?" I asked before I thought better of it.

This time he did look at me, lifting his arm off his eyes just long enough to give me a very sardonic look. "Who else would it have been?"

"Someone needing confession?" I offered.

He gave an almost cynical laugh as he dropped his arm back across his eyes. "After a session like that? Not likely."

I'll admit that I don't know Dago very well, but this mordant mind-set seemed very uncharacteristic for the normally timid priest and I wasn't sure if my presence was helping or hindering at that point. I cautiously took a step forward and turned a chair around, sitting on it backwards and resting my arms on the top as I watched him.

"What's the matter, Dago?"

"I just don't feel well, Hawkeye," he said softly. I watched him swallow. "You doctors…it's incredible what you do, but sometimes I think you forget that the rest of us have never done this kind of thing before. Every time I have to stick my hand inside a guy…"

He didn't finish the thought, but he didn't have to. He'd done what was asked of him in the OR, which is more than I should have asked of him. He was shaken but bad and it was my fault. "I'm sorry," I told him softly. It seemed inadequate, but what else could I say?

He sighed softly, dropping his hand away from his eyes and resting it on the cross around his neck as he stared up at the canvas covering of his tent.

"Oh!" I said, remembering I still had his rosary as I watched him absentmindedly fingering his cross. He turned his head to look at me curiously as I went for the beads still hanging around my neck. He looked thoroughly surprised that I not only had his beads, but was wearing them. "You left these at breakfast."

"Thank you," he sat up and held his hand out and I let the beads pool into his palm, bringing my hand down on top of his and clasping my fingers, holding tightly. His eyes darted up from our conjoined hands to my eyes. I wanted to do so much more than touch his hand. I wanted to live out that fantasy of kissing him. As disturbed as I was by my new found infatuation with him, it didn't stop me from wanting him so unreservedly. I knew I needed to find a way out of this strange, intimate moment I created. He hadn't pulled away, but I could tell he was growing uncomfortable in my grasp.

"Thank for helping me in there, John. I know what you did was hard for you, but just remember who saved that kid's life."

He started to shake his head but stopped as I gave him a solemn look. "I only helped, Hawkeye."

"Yeah, but the part you helped me with was the part that mattered." I finally pulled my hand away, feeling the loss of warmth and he set his beads on his desk. I knew I should leave, but I didn't want to. "You know, Dago…if you ever need someone to talk to…"

"Thanks, Hawkeye."

With nothing more to say, and the urge to kiss him growing stronger, I stood, pushed the chair back under his small desk and turned to leave.

"Hawkeye…" The shy, uncertain tone was back and I turned to look at him. He seemed to be searching for something to say, as if he wasn't ready for me to leave just yet either, but he came up empty handed much the same way I seemed to keep doing. "I hope you're able to get some rest."

"You too, babe." I said softly. I wanted to ask him what had kept him from sleeping the previous night, but was afraid he might ask me the same question and I wouldn't be able to lie to him. I decided to leave, least things get more awkward for us in that moment.

I headed for my bunk, ignoring the urge to shower the sweat and blood off of me in favor for some decent sleep. Dago's parting words stuck with me during the trek back to the Swamp. I wondered what he had wanted to say instead.

The Swamp was empty when I made it back, which was surprising, but not unwelcome. I stripped off everything but my boxers and t-shirt and climbed into my bunk, facing the door so that I could see when Trap, Duke or Spearchucker made their way back, then let my mind wander. I imagined myself back in Dago's tent, just when he'd said my name to stop me from leaving. What would he have done? What would he have said? I couldn't see him make any bold moves, especially where another man was concerned. Maybe he'd lick his lips nervously…his eyes boring into mine with a half-pleading expression.

I took a hold of my hardening cock and began to stroke it as, in my mind, I crossed back to Dago. He stood as I neared him. I grabbed him by the front of his open jacket and hauled him into a fierce kiss. My tongue was in his mouth, his hands…where would he put his hands…my chest? Maybe my shoulders. I wasn't sure. My own hands would be roaming his body, pushing that damn army issue jacket off of him.

I stroked faster as I pulled away from his lips to kiss his neck, feeling the slight scrap of five o'clock shadow on his jaw as it brushed against my cheek.

"Hawkeye," he'd say, his voice slightly deeper in his aroused state. I'd slip my hands inside his shirt, feeling his warm chest and stomach, then drag my hands lower to his belt. Would he stop me? Would he let me go on? I imagined getting my hand inside his pants, feeling his erection pressing against my palm. I'd rub his cock. Would I be the first one who'd ever touched him like this? Could I make him cum in my hand?

I was getting close to my own orgasm as I listened to his soft sighs and moans in my mind. To my own surprise—which was certainly a feat since this was all in my head anyways—his hands worked open the fastenings of my pants and he mirrored what I was doing to him. Those long, deft, slender fingers wrapped around my shaft, stroking me with inexperience, but it felt fucking great. I imagined the hand on my cock was Dago's, and even dared to mutter instruction to him in the empty tent.

"Yeah, that's it babe…just like that. Feels so good…" I was so close now. I bit my lip to keep from vocalizing my enjoyment of this fantasy loud enough to alert the camp. With a few more thrusts, I was cumming into my hand. "Dago…Dago…oh, John…" I muttered his name as I pumped hot cum. When I finished, I lay there panting and sated, an impish grin pulling at my lips. Oh, if only Dago knew what he'd just done to me in my mind. I found a dirty sock on the floor—probably Trapper's—and wiped my hand off before tossing it on the other side of the room, then turned on my back, placed my glasses on the shelf above my head, and passed out in a state of bliss.

When I woke up, it was either just getting dark outside or the sun was just coming up. Judging by the lights around the camp, I was guessing it was dusk. Trapper was asleep in his bunk, as was Duke, but Spearchucker was looking at a dirty magazine. I yawned and stretched, reaching for my glasses.

"What time is it?"

"8:30. They're showing a movie in about 30 minutes if you want to go."

"What movie?" I yawned again.

"The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp."

"Wait? You mean we actually have a real movie tonight and I didn't make a date?" I clicked my tongue in thought. "I wonder if that new nurse…what's her name?... is still available." I wasn't about to start hoping Dago might be my date. Even after the epic orgasm he'd given me in my mind, I wasn't ready to go steady with him or anything…was I? I didn't want to think about that. I got up and found my pants and boots.

"Nurse Becky." Spearchucker supplied with a knowing grin. "She can dress my wounds any day."

I gave Spearchucker a small wave as I grabbed my jacket and headed out of the Swamp in search for said nurse. As fate would have it, however, I very nearly ran straight into Dago who, by the looks of it, was headed to the shower.

"Oh! Pardon me, Hawkeye," Dago exclaimed at our near collision. My eyes couldn't help but take in his robe and combat boots. I wondered if there was anything under that robe. I very nearly reached out towards the knot holding his robe closed, but landed my hand on his wrist instead, fighting for something to say.

"Dago, you're going to miss the film!"

"I don't plan on being that long in the shower," he said with a slight laugh. It made me smile. I couldn't recall ever having heard him laugh. Ever.

"Well, why now? Why not later?"

"It's the best time. Sun's not up, so I'm not going to sweat profusely between now and bedtime, and everyone else will be clamoring for the showers after the movie, so there won't be much hot water left by then."

Suddenly I wanted very much to go with him to the showers. "That's a good point…mind some company?"

"Oh," he looked taken aback. "Well…uh…sure, I guess."

"I'll meet you there," I told him with a smile, heading back to the Swamp and exchanging my pants and jacket for my robe, towel and shower kit.

"She turn you down already?"

"Nah, I'm going to shower. I didn't take one after we were in OR earlier. I shouldn't ask her when I'm disgusting."

"So you'll never be asking her then?"

"Ha. Ha." I deadpanned at Spearchucker, then headed out after Dago. I knew my obsession with the priest was reaching critical, but I simply couldn't stop myself. My need to be near him in any capacity was growing stronger and stronger. It was reaching the point of unhealthy…if I hadn't already blown right passed that.

Dago was already under the spray of the shower as I entered. The showers left little privacy for the occupants, and I couldn't help but let my eyes roam over his nude body as I began to disrobe. His back was to me, which gave me a nice glimpse of his ass. It was a fairly standard ass, as far as asses went, but it was a nice ass. Dago was fairly rangy, much like myself, but he had more lean muscle than I did.

As I stepped under my own nozzle, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see him lathering this face with shaving cream. I stuck my head under the water, wetting my hair, then turned around. He took his razor and very carefully began to scrape it up his neck.

"I usually have a mirror when I do this," he said, surprising me with his initiation of conversation. "For whatever reason, I forgot to bring it."

"Well, here, let me help." I offered, without really thinking about it. I didn't give him a chance to protest as I snagged the razor from his hand. He turned towards me and I fought not to look down at his front. I angled his chin up, starting along his neck, and working my way up, careful not to go against the grain. If I took a little more time than was necessary in the task, he didn't object, though I could feel his eyes watching me the entire time. I wondered what he was thinking. When I finished and rinsed his razor the final time, I watched him rinse the remnants of cream off his face as he observed my work with the backs of his fingers.

"Thanks, Hawkeye."

"If you want to repay the favor, you can." I was really getting into the habit of speaking before thinking. That was going to bite me in the ass, I was sure of it.

"Do you want me to?" He asked, surprised. I heard the unspoken 'do you trust me to?' in his voice, but his use of the word 'want' was playing havoc on my mind. There were so many things I wanted from him, a shave was the least of them.

"Yeah, sure," I managed to play it cool, like this sort of behavior was normal between two men. "Why not?"

Dago looked at me for a long moment, and I could see the internal debate going on within him. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision and picked up his own shaving cream, squirting some into his hand before lathering it between his palms and tentatively smearing it over my cheeks, across my chin and upper lip and then down my throat and neck. His touch felt divine—no pun intended—and I knew that later on I'd have an actual memory to go off of rather than sheer imagination. I tried not to be aroused by what he was doing, but Dago was certainly too focused in his task to notice whether or not I was. I held out my razor to him as he rinsed his hands off and watched as he held it under the spray of water for several moments to warm the blades.

I watched as he licked his lips and pushed his wet hair out of his face as it dripped into his eyes. With his left index finger, he tipped my chin up so that my throat and neck were exposed. I felt him gently rest his right hand against my throat in order to steady his hand as he swiped the razor along my lathered skin in long, slow strokes. He rinsed the blade with each pass and methodically worked his way across my neck. I closed my eyes, ingraining this sultry scene into my mind. Somehow, as dirty as my mind could be, this seemed to be one of the most erotic moments of my life. How queer—figuratively and literally—that it would be with a man. A priest, even! It was confirmed…if Hell existed, I was definitely going there.

Pierce, party of one, we have your table right here.

I felt the razor catch just under my jaw and heard his sharp intake of breath as it nicked me. "Sorry…"

I couldn't help but smile and gently laugh. "I do it all the time."

"I'd be terrible with a scalpel," he observed, his voice a little quieter as he refocused on his task, trying to be more careful than he had been.

"Well, the point of a scalpel is to cut," I teased, trying not to move my mouth as he shaving along my cheek.

"I've never done this on anyone else." He admitted softly. I could almost feel the burden of his office pressing down on him. I wanted to ask what he was thinking…how he felt…but maybe I was reading too much into this.

"You're doing great," I said gently. "Next, we'll have you helping the nurses in post-op."

He didn't say anything, but I saw his lips quirk upwards ever so slightly. He took a small step closer to me and I instinctively held my breath, anticipating what he was about to do. His left hand was holding my chin gently as he looked at my upper lip, trying to assess the best angle to get it. I was aching to touch him somewhere, hold onto him as if trying to steady myself, kiss him, something. I could feel the blood pumping through my body, fueling my desire for this man.

No, no, no…stop thinking about this…. I was getting hard. I felt my cock brush against him in our proximity, but either Dago didn't notice, or was choosing to ignore it. When he finally finished, he rinsed the razor head under my shower spray, not moving away from me as he held the razor up to me, meeting my eyes. I saw him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. I wasn't quite sure what the signals were as far as two men were concerned, or priests for that matter, but the look in his eyes—the terrified, yet unmistakable look of desire—convinced me that he, too, was feeling some less-than-holy urges.

I took the razor from his hand, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. I could feel the tension building between us as I tried to rally my nerves into making my move. Dago beat me to it. His hands were cupping either side of my face and his lips were on mine before I even had time to process a single thought. My mind whirled with this new sensation, and the surprise that he had—despite my earlier convictions that he never would—made the first move.

God, he was a good kisser. One of my hands slid around the base of his skull, sliding into the short, wet hair as I held him firmly against my mouth. My tongue struck forward, seeking out the warm, wetness of his, and only encountering resistance for a fraction of a second as Dago either remembered or learned how to deepen the kiss. His tongue dueled mine delicately, but fiercely as I pushed him back against the shower wall, mindful that it was wood and not wishing to give him splinters in this backside. The spray of his shower head rained down upon us and I let it act as lubrication as I ran my free hand down between our bodies, taking a hold of his hard cock.

He made a noise of protest then and gripped my shoulders, forcibly moving me back until he had me an arms-length away and I had no choice but to release him. Damn…I'd moved too quickly and broken the spell. He was looking at me with that same terrified look of desire, but there was something else in his eyes. Sadness or pain or maybe both.

"I'm sorry, Hawkeye…I can't…"

I saw tears leak from his eyes, mingling with the water on his face. I knew if I backed off completely, we'd go back to pretending the other didn't exist. I didn't want that, and I was willing to bet he didn't either. I nodded softly, but as soon as his grip on my shoulders loosened, I took a step forward. He eyed me nervously, but didn't stop me, so I stepped forward again, then again until I was right back where we'd started—toe to toe, mere inches between us. I could see him trembling as he struggled to stand still.

Reaching behind him, I found his bottle of shampoo and poured some in my hand, lathering it, then brushed his hair off his forehead and worked the shampoo into hair, massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes and even bent his head forward a little. Amazing how much this man trusted me in this situation when I didn't even trust myself. The feel and taste of his kiss lingered on my lips, leaving me wanting more, but I didn't dare press my luck just yet. When I finished lathering his hair, I gently angled his head back under the spray and worked the shampoo out.

Dago leveled his head, his eyes searching mine. I wasn't entirely sure at this point what he wanted or needed from me, but I took a chance. I bent my head forward and kissed his shoulder, letting my hand trail down his arm from his bicep to his wrist before bringing said wrist to my lips and pressing another gentle kiss there. I could feel his pulse against my lips, strong and steady. He threaded his other hand through my wet hair, stroking it gently a few times before letting his hand linger on the back of my neck, long fingers curling around just under my ear.

I let my lips leave his wrist, leveling my eyes back with his and felt him urging me forward with the hand on my neck until our lips were hovering just a breath apart.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered guiltily.

I wasn't sure what to say. No, he shouldn't? No, neither of us should? I was beyond the thought of right or wrong at this point. I knew his God prohibited such acts between two men. I knew that, as a priest, this would probably land him in the 7th circle of hell, but in the middle of a war zone, where there is no sign of God whatsoever, how can He tell us what's right or wrong? What's wrong with two people finding a little solace in each other's arms? Granted, said people are men, but bodies are just bodies, and comfort is just comfort, and sex is just sex. I said the only thing that felt right at that moment. "It's okay, babe."

Anyone who knows me knows that 'babe' is something that I call just about anyone I consider a friend. I guess it's my own personal equivalent to the word 'friend,' but in this case, babe meant more to me than just friend. It was a term of endearment. I think perhaps he felt or heard the distinction in the word, or maybe was placated by my simple encouragement, because his lips brushed over mine. This kiss wasn't nearly as fierce or demanding as the first had been. This one was soft and gentle; a slow, languid melding of our mouths. We seemed to work in tandem, anticipating each other. His lips parted just as my tongue slid forward. As nice as our first kiss was, this kiss was even more electrifying. I brought one hand up to rest on his waist, feeling the sinewy muscle of his oblique beneath my fingers. Dago's hand left the back of my neck, sliding down across my shoulders and he pulled my body flush against his own.

I couldn't stop the moan that escaped from my mouth into his as our cocks were pressed together between our bodies. I wanted to grind myself against him and find release for the second time that day, but I was willing to let him take the lead, as he seemed more likely to let things progress if I wasn't pushing him. I knew we couldn't stay in here alone forever, and the longer we stood there lip-locked, the more likely someone was to walk into a very awkward situation. I didn't really think 'I tripped' would be an adequate excuse for this blatant display of bisexuality on my part.

Dago seemed to once again be reading my mind as he slowly brought the kiss to an end and rested his forehead against mine. "We have to stop," his was the voice of reason…damn it. "Someone could…"

"I know," I murmured gently, in no way, shape, or form ready for this to be over. He pressed one last kiss to my lips then disentangled himself from me and turned so that the water was coursing down over his face. He pulled back, swiping his hand down his face and looked at me with a pleading expression.

"Please don't tell anyone about this, Hawkeye."

I felt somewhat hurt that he would even ask such a thing, but I understood at least. "Of course not."

Dago sighed heavily and nodded, then reached for his soap as I began to shampoo my hair. There was a strained silence between us as we showered quietly. I couldn't think of anything to say, and it was obvious that he couldn't either. I felt like the elephant in the room was standing there, staring at us.

When we both finally thought of something to say, we spoke at the same time, "Have you ever-"

We stopped and stared at each other, and I couldn't help but laugh. He blushed but smiled softly.

"You first," I told him.

"I think you know what I was going to ask."

"Have I ever done this kind of thing before?"

He nodded somewhat hesitantly.

"With a guy? No. This is a first." I told him as I lathed my chest with soap. He was drying himself off. "What about you?"

Dago didn't meet my eyes. "Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I came to you about Painless' problem?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to connect the relevance of his non-answer to my question.

"There is no absolution for the sin of homosexuality," he said gently. "When I came to you for help with Painless, it wasn't just because I couldn't forgive his sins…it…well, his problem hit home with me."

I'd stopped soaping myself and was now listening with rapt interest as he started putting his shower things away.

"I'm not a…homosexual," he said with some effort. "I'm not supposed to be sexual in any sense of the word. I took a vow…sex is supposed to be some obscure concept to me."

"But it isn't," I finished gently for him.

"No, it isn't…and neither is what we're doing." He said, his eyes meeting mine. I couldn't look away. "Remember the friend from seminary I told you and the others about?"

"Sure, the one who nicknamed you."

"Yes…Danny is his name. We…well, I don't want to say we had a relationship, per say, but I suppose when you look at it, that's what it was."

I was almost salivating as he confessed this to me. Who knew that Father John Mulcahy had such a sordid past?

"We never had sex," he clarified. "Not really anyways."

"Not really?" I interrupted. I definitely needed clarification on that.

"We…" he licked his lips to moisten them and I could see his cheeks burning as he adverted his eyes.

"Masturbated each other? Sucked each other off? What?" I couldn't help but press for details. I planned to add this to my repertoire to call upon later in my fantasies. Yes, I know how sick and twisted I am.

"Hawkeye!" He sounded more scandalized than offended.

"Just trying to get the picture," I grinned sheepishly, rinsing the soap off my body and reaching for my towel as he continued.

He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this."

"Dago, come on. I'm sorry. Please, continue. You and Danny…"

"We—"

The shower door creaked on its hinges and we both turned to see Spearchucker stick his head in.

"Damn, Hawkeye, you're still in here? Come on, man, the movie's about to start and I lined us up a couple of girls."

"Sorry, 'chuck, I was just talking to Dago. Let me go throw on some clothes and I'll meet you there."

Spearchucker ducked out again and I turned back around to see Dago hurriedly throwing on his robe and gathering his supplies. He stuffed his feet into his boots, not bothering with the laces and I barely caught his arm as he tried to zip by me. He didn't meet my eyes, but I slid my hand around his neck and pulled his lips to mine, kissing him. He responded, though not nearly as thoroughly as he had earlier.

"We're not done with this," I told him gently, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. "I want to hear about you and Danny. Can I come to your tent later tonight?"

I fully expected a 'no' and was pleasantly surprised when he merely nodded. I kissed him one more time, then let him go, watching him all but run out of the showers.

True to his word, Spearchucker had landed me a date, and with Nurse Becky, no less. She had legs that wouldn't quit, and a tongue that seemed to be everywhere but inside her own mouth. We sat in the back of the mess tent as the movie played and I let her kiss me. It was nice, but I couldn't stop thinking of Dago and the way his mouth had felt on mine. Was I really thinking of Dago when I had a beautiful woman's tongue down my throat? I was so screwed…

"Let's go to the supply tent," she whispered wantonly in my ear. I wasn't going to say no.

We slipped out together and into the supply tent before she was back in my arms, kissing me as though it were her last day on earth, her hands working on my pants. I'd seen fast women before, but she was in a class by herself. Before I really had time to register any rational thoughts, she was on her knees with my cock in her mouth.

Once again thoughts of Dago Red popped into my mind as I thought about what he'd started to tell me about him and his friend Danny. I eagerly wondered what they had done together. What delicious sins they had committed together. Knowing he wasn't quite as pure and innocent as I'd originally expected him to be somehow made me want him even more. At least I wouldn't be the one who corrupted him; that had to count for something, right God?

When I ran my hand through the head of hair currently attached to my cock, I was surprised by the fact that the locks were long, not short…and blonde rather than reddish brown. Oh right…Becky… As nice as her technique was, I was anxious to go find Dago and finish what we'd started. I pulled Becky to her feet and turned her around, bracing her against the spare gurney stashed against the wall as my hands fumbled with the fastenings on her pants from behind. She helped me push them down to her knees and I bent her over, entering her quickly.

Ah….fuck…. I don't care who was on my mind, her pussy felt so good. I fucked her until she came on my dick, then I told her to get on her knees and finish me off, which she happily obliged. I thanked her for a good time, idly promising we'd do it again, and patted her bottom to send her on her way. I made sure no one was watching me as I headed off in the other direction towards Dago's tent.

The light was on as I knocked, but clicked off seconds later before the door was pushed open just enough to let me slip inside. I heard him latch the door and felt my heart pounding against my chest. He reached out to me in the dark, finding my arm, then pulled me to him. Our lips found each other's and his tongue was the first to venture forth this time.

Whether or not he could tell that I'd just had sex remained a mystery to me, but he obviously didn't care…or if he did, he wasn't letting it show. I was disappointed that he'd gotten fully dressed again, but he didn't resist as I pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Why did this seem so familiar? Ah yes…my fantasy…

His hands were slipping up under my jacket, easing it off my shoulders. I'd already cum twice today, could I go again? I was sure willing to give it the good old college try. My hands went to the fastenings on his pants. I hesitated, but he didn't stop me, and soon my hand was sliding south of the border beneath trousers and boxer shorts until my palm was flat against his hard cock.

His mouth broke from mine then as he practically panted, breathless. I wasn't sure if he was about to tell me to stop or not, but I didn't wait to find out. I curled my fingers around the length of his shaft and began to stroke him. He took a shuddering breath, letting his head fall back. I could only see his silhouette in the darkened tent, but somehow I knew his eyes were closed. I pressed my lips against his throat, kissing down to the collar of that black t-shirt. He surprised me by grabbing the hem and wriggling out of it, dropping it somewhere on the floor. My lips reclaimed their hold and I kissed down to the hollow of his throat. I felt the cold metal of dog tags and the chain of his cross necklace as my lips slipped along to his clavicle.

His breathing was growing rapidly unsteady as my hand continued to pump his cock, but I wasn't through with him yet. I gently maneuvered us towards his cot, releasing his cock long enough to push his pants and boxers down his hips. I felt him toeing off his boots and smiled to myself at how much easier this seemed to be than before. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted this, maybe even needed this, as much as I did. I let him take over removing his own pants as I pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed it aside. I quickly toed off my boots, sweeping them out of the way with my foot, then went for my belt.

"Wait," Dago said softly, his hands somehow finding mine in the darkness. A few seconds of tense silence passed between us before Dago pulled my hands away from my belt and took over working the fastenings himself. There weren't any doubts in my mind at that point, I could definitely go for a third time tonight. He pushed my trousers down my hips and I pounced. I pushed Dago back on his cot, following him down and covering his body with my own as our lips met once again. I was quickly becoming addicted to kissing him.

Army cots aren't exactly roomy, but I'd had enough practice to know how to make it seem spacious even with two people. I worked my hand between us again, finding both of our cocks and holding them together in my fist as I stroked us in unison. Dago moaned into my mouth and his hands found my backside, slipping along my ass. Though I'd never done it before, and certainly had never entertained the idea before this crazy fixation with Dago, I suddenly wanted him in my mouth. I pulled away from his lips, and kissed along his jaw to his ear.

"I want to taste you, Dago." I murmured. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest as he breathed raggedly beneath me. "Will you let me?"

"Yes," he whispered on tenterhooks.

I released our cocks, making him shudder as I licked and nipped my way down his chest and stomach. He slipped up the cot a little bit to give me room to lie in a child's pose between his legs. I thought of Becky's expert blow job not more than a half an hour before to help give me inspiration as I took his cock into my mouth. He groaned rather loudly and stuffed his pillow over his face. I had to chuckle at that, but then refocused my attention to the task at hand. Dago was slightly bigger than average, though not a behemoth like Painless. He was a mouthful, but I found this almost enjoyable…as did Dago. The noises being muffled by his pillow would have been comical if I wasn't trying to interpret them as pleasure, disgust, or something else entirely.

His fingers wove into my hair and he dropped the pillow away from his mouth so that he could breathe without suffocating himself. I bobbed my head up and down his shaft, fascinated by all the ridges and veins and sheer anatomy of his member. Playing with your own was one thing, but you couldn't suck your own cock unless you were extremely flexible, and it was strangely pleasing to have his cock in my mouth.

He made a soft noise that sounded like a sob or a sigh, and I felt his fingers gently pulling my hair. "Haw…Hawkeye," he stuttered.

"Mmm?" I spoke around his cock, making him gasp as the sound vibrated him.

"Hawkeye, I'm going to…"

I knew the meaning; we've all said that by way of warning to those with their mouths around our genitalia. It was a courtesy call that said 'stop now if you don't want a face full of cum.' I however, had no intention of stopping.

"Mmm hmm," I vibrated him again and he groaned brokenly, throwing his head back. I worked him more furiously, making noises in my throat to stimulate him and he grabbed for his pillow, holding it tightly over his face as he moaned uncontrollable, his hips lightly thrusting involuntarily. I knew he was close, right on the edge of orgasm. I knew how I liked to be finished, so I sucked solely on the head of his cock and found his balls with my hand, gently squeezing them. It sent him tumbling gracelessly over the edge. His cum shot into my mouth, hitting me in the back of the throat. I nearly gagged, but managed to keep my cool. I could feel his entire body tense beneath me as he bucked up against my mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure as he continued to spill in my mouth. I wondered how long it had been since he'd been with Danny.

When his cock went slightly slack, I slipped him out of my mouth and had a decision to make. Spit or swallow. I didn't think Dago would appreciate me spitting a mouthful of his cum on his floor, so I swallowed my pride and swallowed his cum. I nipped at his hip bone and he groaned softly, brushing a hand through my hair as he moved the pillow aside once more and pulled up into a sitting position, crossing his legs Indian style on the cot.

I wasn't sure what to expect next, maybe an awkward 'thank you, goodbye' but now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see him clearly and he was looking at me with intent. I didn't need to be told what he wanted. I simply lay on my back, finding his pillow and stuffing it under my head. Dago moved over me, straddling my hips as best he could in an army cot with one hand braced against my shoulder, and the other gripping the edge of the cot. He leaned down, his dog tags and cross jingling together until they were silenced against my chest as he kissed me deeply. He slipped lower, moving his legs between mine as he kissed my jaw and bit my neck. I hissed a little as his bite lingered between pleasure and pain, but moved my hand up to the back of his neck to hold him there. What's a little pleasure without a little pain? I had a fleeting thought that he might leave marks, but found I didn't care.

He moved down to where my neck sloped into my shoulder and bit down there too, this time a little harder. I actually cried out a little before I bit down on my own lip to keep quiet. Had I known Dago liked it a little rough, I wouldn't have been so gentle with him…

"Too hard?" he murmured, soothing the stinging skin with his tongue.

"God no, babe." I massaged his neck. "It feels incredible."

He moved his lips over about an inch and bit down again. If the other two hadn't left marks, this one certainly would. One thing was for certain, Dago was driving me crazy. My dick was rock hard, pinned deliciously beneath him. He rearranged himself so that he was no longer straddling me, and pressed a kiss to my sternum before looking up at me. The look in his eyes was positively wicked and he gave me a lopsided grin that only amplified the devious expression on his face. I shivered as he moved himself down between my legs, his dog tags and cross sliding down my belly before he took hold of both necklaces with one hand and pulled them off over his head, dropping them on the floor next to the bed. I felt his hand take hold of me, his hot breath against the head of my cock before I was enveloped by his warm, wet mouth.

Jesus wept…My mind supplied every possible pun that was completely inappropriate in this moment. How this man was born to speak in tongues, how he should never get up off his knees…I think I even went so far as to think 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.' How had I gone from merely noticing this man, to fantasizing about him, to having him sucking my cock? What a strange and completely unexpected turn of events. Shouldn't God himself be coming down to smite us both? Thank God I was a devout unbeliever. I didn't even want to think about what this might be doing for Dago's faith.

"Fuck, Dago…" Maybe not the best explicative, but what expression does one use when there is a Catholic priest between your legs, sucking your cock so good you could just spontaneously combust? I figured 'Oh God' might be too much for him to hear…if he could even hear anything on our decent into Hell.

I belatedly realized how loud I was moaning when Dago's hand reached up and covered my mouth to muffle my cries. Anyone who knows me, or at least has had sex with me, knows that I've never been the vocal type during sex. A little dirty talk, one or two 'oh yeahs', but never like this. His other hand cupped my balls and he took me deep in his throat, vibrating his vocal chords like I had done to him. I nearly hit the ceiling as I came unglued. I thrust my hands into his hair, gripping onto him as I fucked his mouth.

With his hand over my mouth, I couldn't warn him of my impending orgasm, but I was pretty sure there was no need to. I thrust up into his mouth with frenzied movements. He squeezed my balls tighter. And I came. There wasn't much cum this go-round, but the orgasm was still intense. As I started to come off my high, Dago pulled his hand away from my mouth and moved up my body to lie next to me on the cot as best he could. He propped his head up on his hand and kissed my shoulder.

I smiled lazily. "That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He murmured.

"Did you?" I ask, looking up at him curiously.

He nodded, smiling softly. "Very much. Both times."

"Both ti…oh." I laughed softly, realizing his meaning: once when I was sucking him off and again when he was sucking me off. "Finish telling me about Danny now that we're alone for a while."

He blew out a breath, his eyes going unfocused as he obviously tried to think of where to start. "It started in seminary, before we were ordained. We were roommates. He was quite a troublemaker, a real deviant sometimes. I never understood why he was going into the priesthood. He told me that he always wondered what it would be like to be with a boy and said that he often had sexual fantasies of sodomizing someone. I, of course, was mortified. I mean, curiosity is one thing, but homosexual ideologies are something else entirely. He made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone, and of course I didn't. It wasn't my place to judge him, I knew he'd be accountable to God one day."

Dago cleared his throat and shifted slightly to get more comfortable. I turned on my side, facing him, and propped my own head up on my arm. I moved my leg in between his and he moved his body closer to mine. I leaned in and kissed him before letting him continue.

"One night, it was quite late, but neither of us could sleep. We'd been telling jokes, trying to keep our voices down so we didn't wake up anyone else in our hall. It was cold, probably middle of December, and it was snowing outside. Danny asked if we could share my bed because my blankets were warmer. I was leery, but allowed him to get in bed with me. Nothing happened that night, but each night after that for a week he asked to share my bed, until finally he stopped asking and just got in bed with me. One night, it was probably a couple weeks after he started sleeping in my bed, I woke up feeling really aroused, with his hand in my pajamas. I was still in that half-asleep state so everything was really hazy, and I remember asking him what he was doing, but not stopping him. It felt good, really good. It was the first orgasm I ever had. I felt horribly guilty by it, but mostly because I secretly wanted it to happen again. For the next few days, nothing did, and finally I told Danny I wanted more. He didn't just jerk me off that time, though…he went down on me. After I finished, he told me he wanted me to go down on him, so I did. This happened pretty much every night for a couple of years…"

"Years? Geeze, Dago, no wonder you're so good at sucking cock." I couldn't help myself.

He blushed. "Yes… well… I shouldn't be…"

Ah the Catholic guilt. It was strong, but it certainly wasn't stopping him.

"Anyways," he continued. "Danny had always tried to talk me into letting him penetrate me, but that was where I'd drawn the line. I can't tell you how many times I quoted the story of Sodom and Gomorrah to him, but he wouldn't give up. Remember the time he got me drunk?"

I nodded.

"I wasn't just too drunk to do my duties in the church; I was too drunk to say no to him."

"Dago," I said softly, resting my hand on his cheek. "That's…"

"Rape, I know." He murmured, averting his gaze. "But I didn't think of it like that at the time, and…well once it had happened, and it had felt so good…I didn't stop him from doing it again. I told him that once I took my vows, though, that I wouldn't let him do that anymore. He agreed, but I think he thought I'd give in or something."

"Did you?"

"Not while we were in seminary." He said seriously. "I still did everything else with him, though I knew I shouldn't. There was one time after seminary we were together, but when we went to Chaplain school and joined the Army, things had changed. He still wanted to, pressured me to, but I still had strong convictions about it. There were times when I gave in, when we were alone and the opportunity allowed for it, but finding time where no one else was around was difficult. Besides that, though, he had really changed since seminary and we'd started growing apart. By the time we finished our training and got our orders, we weren't even friends anymore. I haven't talked to him since."

Dago sighed and looked at me, "I know that what I've said paints me as a homosexual, but I don't…well I'm not. I'm not."

"I know what you mean, babe," I didn't consider him a fairy any more than I considered myself one. "To me, sex is sex. You can't help who you feel attracted to. I certainly never thought I'd end up in bed with a guy before, and I'm married!"

Dago made a sound of distress and covered his face, falling back on the cot. "Oh, God…why'd you have to remind me of that, Hawkeye? I'm going to Hell…I've broken so many Commandments and vows and laws…"

Though I knew Dago was completely serious, I couldn't help but laugh. "Dago, you can only go to hell if I believe what we're doing is a sin, too. And I don't."

"It doesn't work like that, Hawkeye."

"Well, in my book it does," I fought to get his hands away from his face, laying on top of him as I looked down at him. "You and I have very different ideas about God and Hell, Dago. I personally don't believe in either, but if I did, I wouldn't choose to believe in a God who would punish someone like you for something like this. How many men and women have you confessed here who have admitted to adultery?"

"Several." He admitted, though glumly.

"And did you tell them they are going to Hell?"

"Of course not."

"Do you think they are?"

"I can't know that."

"So, what? You offered them absolution?"

"Yes."

"What makes you different from them, John?" He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "And don't say it's because you're a priest."

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

"Yeah, you're a priest, so what? You're still human, babe. I know enough about your Bible to know that humans are always going to sin, it's in our nature."

"But I took vows, Hawkeye." He argued. "I know the Word of God, I know right from wrong."

"Well, then why did you do it? Why me? Why Danny?"

"I don't know," he said brokenly.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He made a noise, but didn't try to push me away.

"You're really not helping," he said as I pulled back.

"Look, Dago," I said seriously, brushing my hand through his hair. "I don't know what it is about you that's got me so mixed up, but I really like what happened here tonight and I'd like it to happen again sometime."

He closed his eyes and sighed. I could see the thoughts running through his head as he tried to come to terms with how he was feeling about this encounter. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at me. "So would I," he said barely audible.

It occurred to me then that I was encouraging a priest to forget his vows, forget his commandments, and forget everything he held sacred just for a romp with me. It also occurred to me that Dago—even in the state of upset that he was in—was willing to do just that. I kissed him again, this time sweetly, reluctant to leave his bed and the warmth of his arms, but knowing Trapper and Duke would soon send out a search party for me.

"Promise me you're not going to regret this, Dago." I couldn't ask him not to feel guilty. He was Catholic, guilt was practically a prerequisite.

"I should," he told me seriously. "But I won't. I never regretted it with Danny, and I know I won't with you."

I kissed him again, and again. Was I ever going to be able to stop kissing him?

"I gotta go," I told him between kisses.

"You're getting nowhere fast," he replied, returning each of my kisses.

"Wise guy," I smiled, giving him a lasting kiss before finally pulling myself off of him and onto my feet. "You know, you're quite witty when you want to be."

"Of course," he said softly, taking his dog tags and cross from my fingers as I picked them up off the floor. "There's more to me than rosary beads and prayers."

"Boy, I'll say," I teased with a grin as I pulled on my pants and fastened them.

He blushed, grinning at me as he got to his feet and found his boxers. Once I was dressed, I looked at him, still standing solely in his boxers. Damn, I wanted him again. He grabbed the lapels of my jacket and pulled me to him, and our tongues had once last dance before he slowly let me go, unlatching the hook holding his tent door closed. He peeked his head out to see if the coast was clear, then gave me a small nod. I kissed his neck, then slipped out into the night. The movie was just letting out and I walked towards the swamp as if I'd just come from post-op rather than Mulcahy's tent.


TBC