Mid-War Crisis

Trapper couldn’t sleep. He’d never had much trouble before. He was usually so tired after a long shift in OR, patching up kids that were too young to shave, or he was exhausted after an extended visit with a willing nurse of the female persuasion. Now closing his bulbs produced nothing but thoughts.

He wasn’t sure why this latest bout of unfaithfulness had him so restless. Trapper had already cheated on Louise so many times that he had lost count long ago. But he couldn’t deny that this time was different.

His closest friend, his pal that was always there for him in this lousy place, they had taken the friendship just a little too far. It had started innocent enough. Henry had put together a little poker game in the swamp with some South Korean officials. They usually did that a couple times or so a month. Trapper was on a pretty good streak that night. He’d taken Hawkeye, Henry, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and the Korean men for most of their cash. He’d even won himself a new watch. Well, new to him anyway.

Trapper, though, found that luck could be pretty short-lived. He quickly lost a lot of his winnings, including the watch. Oh well, he already had a nice watch anyway.

Father Mulcahy managed, as usual, to come out on top. Everyone always complained that the chaplain had “connections”, but the Father would only chuckle at such comments. No one was sour, though. They knew Father Mulcahy’s winnings would go to a good cause. The orphanage was so important to the Padre.

They all eventually made their way to their own beds or to the bed of a companion, if they were lucky (Father Mulcahy not included in that last part). Hawkeye and Trapper had the added bonus that night of Frank being on R&R in Seoul. He and Margaret were probably doing each other’s nails, or whatever weird things they normally did.

Trapper laid face down on his bunk. “I can’t believe I let Father Mulcahy come back like that. I had aces full of kings, for chrissakes! Where does he get off having four 10’s?” He cursed into his Army pillow.

“No wonder you lost all your money, with a filthy mouth like that!” Hawkeye was standing, hovering over Trapper’s cot. “Wait ‘til I tell the Father how you’ve been using the Lord’s name in vain.” He poked Trapper in the side.

“Knock it off, will ya, Hawk? Can’t you just let a guy wallow in peace?”

“Nah, I much prefer to let you wallow in misery.”

“Well you’re off to a good start.”

“Here, have a sip.” Hawkeye poured Trapper a double and set it on the night stand beside Trapper’s head.

“A sip?” Trapper grabbed up the glass and drank it mostly in one huge gulp. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Hawkeye flashed one of his signature sideways grins and poured another for his best friend and bunkmate. Soon they were both plastered, unable to even sit up straight. Somehow they both ended up on Trapper’s narrow cot, with nothing but their boxers and dog tags on.

“So what exactly is going on here?” Trapper asked. He thought he knew but wanted Hawkeye to be the first to say it. He seemed to always be the braver of the two when it came to awkward situations. At the moment Trapper was terrified of making a poor judgment call, especially since he was too drunk to remember his own name. But Hawkeye just seemed to have a special instinct when it came to these things.

“Well let’s see, we’re thousands of miles from home, in a cold, damp cesspool, we seem to have lost most of our clothing, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a very nice buzz going on right now.” The look on Hawkeye’s face was an unmistakable mixture of curiosity and lust.

“What you said,” Trapper mimicked, and the next thing he knew, they were kissing, then he had Hawkeye on his hands and knees and was pounding into his sweet ass.

As Trapper thrust harder into that wonderful tightness that was Hawkeye, he wondered with a fuzzy head if Hawk had ever been with a man before. Trapper had never even considered it, but this did not seem wrong in any way. It felt pretty damn good.

Hawkeye jerked and moaned in ecstasy and Trapper knew that he had just found his best friend’s prostate. A fleeting thought wondered what that might feel like. He aimed for that sweet spot again and again, slowly fucking Hawkeye and himself into oblivion.

Trapper held on as long as he could, grateful when Hawkeye finally cried out in release and bonelessly slumped forward on the cot. Trapper took the opportunity to grab Hawkeye’s hips and fuck that delicious ass until he exploded in complete bliss.

He must have momentarily blacked out, because Hawkeye was obviously trying to get his attention. “Trap, you big jerk, you’re crushing my girlish figure.” Trapper could hear the affection in his friend’s voice.

“Sorry, Doll,” Trapper offered in mock apology. He lightly slapped Hawkeye’s hip.

Hawkeye only grinned as Trapper allowed him to roll to his side. Soon the two were asleep.