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Scenes From The Korean War

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Hawkeye didn’t expect anyone to be in the Swamp when he came in that night, least of all who he found. B.J. was down in Seoul for a few days with Radar, sorting out a medical supply shipment error, and Frank had managed to wrangle a 3-day pass in Tokyo. He fully expected an empty tent. What he got instead was Father Mulcahy.

He was sprawled out in Hawk’s chair, left leg draped over the arm. In his right hand he held a half full martini glass. Judging from the decanter, the Father had helped himself to several glasses. His left arm was propped up, fingering his silver cross. He hadn’t looked up when Hawkeye turned on the light, just continued his reflection of the cross.

“Father, please help your self.” Hawkeye said, crossing to pour himself a glass. “Although I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Few ever do.” The Father replied, not looking around, but instead draining his glass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hawk refilled the Father’s glass, and that finally earned a look from the shorter man.

“Thank you.” Mulcahy took a sip this time, but didn’t answer his question.

“Father?” He turned and sat down on his cot, trying not to brush the Father’s foot.

“I actually intended to be gone before you arrived.” He hiccupped then giggled. The sound was soft. “But I seemed to have had a few more drinks than planned.”

“Do this often?” Hawk smiled.

“Oh, no. No, not regularly, but it’s been a bit of a off day for me. And I rather thought you would be occupied at the movie with that new nurse.”

“No, she stood me up.” He took a gulp of his drink. An off day? He thought about the day, but nothing came to mind that made this worse than any other day.

“Oh, I see.” He took another sip from his glass.

“You seemed ok this morning.” He had actually seen the man, he had come into the showers just as Hawkeye was toweling off.

“Hawkeye.” The Father giggled again, and the taller man actually took a look at him. He was much drunker than he thought. There were two spots of color high up on his cheeks, and the way he was sitting, the giggling.

“Father?” He asked again, unsure of what to say. At the word, the man visibly flinched.

“Father.” Mulcahy drained his glass and stood. “My real name is Francis.” He thrust the glass into Hawk’s hand. “Hawk,” He started again then trailed off.

“What?”

“I saw you, in the shower this morning.” The spots of color on his cheeks deepened, looking down at Hawk.

“Was I that bad, you had to get blotto?” Hawkeye said, doing what he always did, falling back on jokes.

“Stupid.” Mulcahy stepped forward and slapped him. It wasn’t hard but it stung. He left without a word.

 

Hawk's fingers went boneless in shock, spilling gin all over his boots. What just happened? Did quiet, polite, Father Mulcahy, just slap him? While drunk?
Hawk tried to pour himself another drink, and when he spilled more on his hand then into the glass, he drank directly from the decanter instead, before setting it down. He couldn’t think, but his mind was reeling.

Surely the Father had seen naked men before. This was the army after all, even the priests had training. He leaned over, elbows on knees, and clutched his head in his hands. As if holding his head steady would maybe steady his thoughts.

Hawkeye tried to think of any other time Father Mulcahy acted like this. He could remember all the times he had acted as a nurse when they needed him, or leant a sympathetic ear. The priest was a constant here at the 4077, helping them all cope. Helping the sisters at the orphanage. Just plain helping. But Hawkeye could think of a few other times the Father had acted out of character.

Once when his superior came to camp to check up on things. But that was understandable. The other. Well. It was the day Henry had Radar set up the hot tub. He and Trapper had been walking around in bathing trunks. He had been running back to the Swamp, grabbing something or other, and he had run full length into the shorter man. They almost crashed to the ground, only Hawk's fast reflexes held them up. He had managed to wrap the priest in a bear hug of sorts, steadying them both.
Of course he had apologized to the priest, and the man had responded by gripping his cross tight in his fist. A blush crept across his cheeks and his breathing sped up as he stammered his apologies as well. Until tonight, Hawk had assumed it was nervousness from the accident. But he was beginning to have doubts.

This was Father Mulcahy they were talking about here. Hawk really wished they were a they, maybe if B.J. had been here to see it, they could figure this thing out. At the same time, if B.J. was here, they would just make some jokes about it and that would be the end of it. Hawkeye didn’t want that to be the end of it. And he knew that priests themselves were supposed to be messengers of God. But they were also human and they weren’t excluded from temptation. But that couldn’t be what this was, temptation. This was Father Mulcahy. He swallowed down the last of his gin.

Now that he had opened up the idea to a train of thought, maybe there were other times to consider. Like the time Hawk had to do the foot inspection. He had seemed much more talkative that day. All the times the Father turned away from his duties and his religion to hang out with them. To play poker, or play piano at the Officers Club, or even just have a drink. Or anytime he thought he was in the mess tent alone and then turned with a cup of coffee to see the Father watching him.

It wasn’t like Hawk hadn’t been watching himself. He was an equal opportunity watcher. An equal opportunity lover. His forays over to the other gender were not frequent, and they weren’t something he advertised. Since he had come to Korea, he had relegated himself to strictly watching. He didn’t want anyone to judge him by things that weren’t their business. In this tight knit community, he couldn’t afford to ask around or word would get out. So, he had kept his actions to the female side of things, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look. B.J. when he stretched to put laundry on the line. Mulcahy when he was just in his black t-shirt. He often found himself thinking of that tight shirt when he had a few minutes alone.

Was Father Mulcahy just trying to get away from horrible boredom of war, whenever he spent time away from his duties? Or could it be, was it something else?

 

He got to his feet and left his tent in a hurry. He made his way across camp, thought about knocking and then simply just opened the door to the Father’s tent. The man was lying on his cot, his boots still on, right arm flung over his eyes. His cross was gripped tight in his left hand. Anything witty Hawkeye had thought of on the way over left his head all in a rush.

“Please Hawkeye.” The Father’s voice was soft, already knowing who it was. “I just want to be alone”

“Father, Francis, I want to talk to you.” He crossed the small tent and got down on one knee at the man’s bedside. “It took me too long to put this all together.”

“Shut up, it took you five seconds after I made a fool of myself. I would prefer if you would just go away, I can’t do this.” His voice broke a little in the middle. Hawkeye laid his hand on Mulcahy’s. The death grip on the cross didn’t let up.

“You’re only human.”

“I’m a priest!”

“That doesn’t exclude you being a human.” He rubbed his thumb softly over the man’s knuckles.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make excuses for me. Don’t be kind to me.” His voice was wrecked with pain.

“You deserve kindness.” Hawk didn’t stop the movement of the thumb.

“If you don’t quit, I’m going to do something that I can’t take back.”

“All from a little kindness?”

“It’s too much if it’s from you.” The Father finally let the arm covering his eyes fall away. They were red and bloodshot. Rimmed with tears.

“Francis, it’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, when you say my name Hawkeye.” He shook his head.

“I’ll say it all night for you.”

“Don’t joke about this.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Hawkeye moved forward and pressed his lips gently to the priests. He didn’t move, didn’t return the kiss, didn’t break away. But he let his eyes fall closed. Hawkeye pulled back.

“Hawkeye.” The Father kept his eyes closed.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Doesn’t it though.” He opened his eyes again.

“No. It can just be us. Here. Together.” Neither of them spoke for a long while, just staring at each other.

“Are you serious, this isn’t a joke?” Francis’s voice was cold.

“I’m full of jokes, but this isn’t one of them.”

“I have to think. I need time, to think.” He shifted a little.

“Of course. Where are we gonna go?” Hawkeye said. The Father moved his arm and cupped the back of Hawk’s neck.

“Meet me tomorrow, after breakfast.” He said, and moved his hand down to cup the other man’s cheek.

“Where?” Hawkeye leaned into the touch.

“Oh my.” Francis bit his lower lip gently, cast his eyes to the side, and moved forward, pressing his lips to the doctors.

Soft but insistent. Hawk melted against him, letting out a small needy sound. The Father slid his hand up into the doctor’s hair, and gripped, pulling him back to look at him.

“Please make that sound again.”

“I’m not that easy, earn it.” Hawk turned his head slightly, just barley presenting the hollow of his throat. Francis pressed a rough kiss there.

“I’m supposed to be taking the time to think about this.” He murmured against Hawk’s throat.

“I invite you to keep thinking.” Hawk said. The Father kissed him again, and then bit experimentally. Hawk couldn’t hold back the small whimper that escaped him.

“Lovely.” Francis kissed Hawkeye’s throat one more time and pulled back again.

“Francis.” Hawk said, heart pounding in his chest. His cock was half hard, pinging his mind for attention.

“I want to hear you say that in every way possible. But Hawkeye,” His eyes were wide. “If this happens. I want it to be because you and I want it. Not because we’ve had a few drinks, and can’t hold back.” Hawkeye leaned forward, and kissed him again. Just once and as gently as the first time. Then he stood.

“The mess tent, tomorrow morning?” The priest asked.

“Perfect, I’ll go over there and wait.” He paused. “You had an awful lot to drink, will you be okay tomorrow?” Hawk asked.

“I’ll have lots of water. If I do have a hangover, it will be small.”

“Okay.” He took the other man’s hand gently and looked over him, just taking him in. Spread out so tempting before him, and if the bulge in his pants was any indication, apparently just as turned on as him. “I’ve got to leave or I’ll kiss you again.”

“Till tomorrow.” The Father said, squeezing his hand.

“Goodnight.”

---

The next morning Hawk stayed behind in the mess after everyone left, claiming the need for a third cup of coffee. If B.J. had been around, there may have been a problem. But no one really cared. Francis hadn't been at breakfast. That wasn't that unusual. But when his third cup turned to a fourth, and it had been an hour, he knew the Father wasn't coming. He was disappointed but understood.

He drained the last of the muck in his mug and left it on the table. He had duty in an hour. Which meant no booze. And God, he could use a drink. He put his hands on the small of his back and stretched as he left the mess. If the Father wanted to forget last night, that was fine. He would pretend nothing happened, it wouldn’t be the first time. He turned a corner and walked back towards his tent.

"Hawkeye!" A voice called. He turned and saw the man himself hurrying towards him.

"Father." Hawk said, voice flat.

"What happened to Francis?" He said, voice low.

"Oh, I met him last night! Hell of a guy." The doctor crossed his arms. "But it seems he didn’t want to stick around long. That's ok, I get it."

"I apologize for the delay. I was with a patient." He looked around and seeing no one, placed a hand on Hawk's arm.

"You could have sent someone over to tell me." Hawkeye said.

"I decided that would be unwise." The priest smiled and moved to squeeze Hawk's shoulder.

"Is that because you came to a bad decision? And by bad, I mean bad for me. Of course." Joking was always easier than being serious.

"I did have some time to think." The Father started, but just then Hawkeye saw Klinger round a corner. Not wanting to be seen, or interrupted, he wrapped his arm around the Father and pulled him into the small alley between tents. Klinger passed by without so much of a glance. When Hawk pulled back, Francis had a pained look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

"It's my hand, I cut it yesterday, when, well." He uncurled his left hand. There were two small gouges in his palm.

"You should have told me yesterday." He said.

"I was otherwise preoccupied." The shorter man smiled in an absolutely filthy way.

"Come on, I want to clean these." Hawk led him by the shoulder towards the pre op building.

 

Hawkeye swabbed out the cuts with peroxide. They weren't really that bad, but Korea was a cesspool and he wasn't taking any chances. Then he covered them with bacitracin and gauze packs, as well as a gauze wrap.

"Really now, they weren't that bad." The priest turned his hand this way and that, observing Hawk's handiwork.

"Better safe than sorry. Plus, I may need this hand." He screwed the cap to the bottle back on.

"Oh will you now?" He quirked one eyebrow up at the doctor and the grin was pure evil.

"The decision has gone to a vote. Unanimous in favor of yes." Hawkeye said.

"I would like to speak with you." Francis clasped his hands gently, but didn't look like he was breaking bad news.

"Go ahead, I'm all ears." Hawkeye hopped up and sat on the table next to the man.

"As a priest, I’m supposed to above temptation and desire. But as you said last night, I am also human. Despite what I said last night, I do know this. There is a difference between watching and touching. But I’ve been watching a long time and I had made my peace with that. It's been very hard for me. To come to terms with that." The man sighed.

"If this is too much for you," Hawk started.

"No. Let me explain. Korea is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It hurts my heart, and destroys me everyday.” He shook his head. “It’s all I can do some days to put myself back together. Then, when I met you, watching suddenly wasn't enough anymore. And I’m run too raw by this place, my defenses are too low to deny myself admitting that. I’ve wanted you a long time, but you couldn’t want me, and really, I shouldn’t have you.” He shook his head. “What I mean is that here you are, sitting next to me, and I'm dreaming." He gripped Hawk's hand with his un-bandaged hand.

"You sure I'm not corrupting you?" The doctor said, laying a gentle kiss on the back of Francis's hand.

"You won't be saying that after I get five minutes alone with you." That wicked smile was back.

"Oh my!” Hawk flapped his hand at his neck in mock southern offense.

"Yesterday was just the proverbial straw that broke the camels back, as it were."

“Was it that good?" Hawk said, deliriously happy.

"Do you even know how good you look?" It was the Father's turn to lay a kiss on their entwined hands.

"I see the same thing when I look at you. And I haven't even seen your naughty bits yet."

"When would you like too?" Francis said.

"How does nowish sound to you?" Hawk swung back off the table and pressed himself between the Father’s legs. He gripped the other man’s hips and pulled forward, standing at just the right height to slot them together. He gasped. Francis was already hard.

"Hawkeye," He ground forward, trying for more friction.

"Francis. I'm yours. I'll do whatever you ask." He pushed his hips forward slowly. His cock grew just as hard as the Father’s and even through layers of rough army issued slacks it felt delicious. The priest’s eyes fell closed.

"And what if I want to go slow?" He laid his hands on Hawkeye's shoulders.

"I can respect that. Just say the word." He said, but didn't stop the slow roll of hips, grinding over and over into the pliant man beneath him.

"This is dangerous. Anyone could walk through here." But he didn't stop.

"One last thing and I'll quit." Hawkeye bent and kissed Francis. The priest responded immediately this time, moaning softly into the kiss. Hawk pressed himself as close as he could to the smaller man, trying to take him all in.

Suddenly, the door to Colonel Potter’s office cracked open. Pierce stumbled back seconds before Radar bumbled into the room.

"Ah, back from Seoul Radar?" Father Mulcahy asked, seeming completely at ease. He was amazing.

"Oh yes Father. Oh say gee, what happened to your hand?" Radar was holding a file folder of papers.

"It's rather silly, I'm afraid. I was holding my cross in my fist, a shell went off nearby and I squeezed a little too hard. Hawkeye was gracious enough to patch me up."

"As long as it's not serious." Radar smiled. He turned. "Hawkeye, these are for you. A patient the Colonel wanted you to keep an eye on."

"Ah, work before pleasure, I suppose.” Hawk took the file folder, and flipped it open to study it.

"Oh if you say so Sir." The clerk smiled.

"Thanks for the chart Radar." Hawkeye offered his hand to the Father and helped him off the table. Mulcahy squeezed briefly.

"Anyone in need of me today Radar?" He brushed at the front of his slacks.

"I don't know about that Father."

"Why don't you get all dolled up and swing by Father?” Hawk flipped through the file, trying for nonchalant.

"I suppose it would be wise." Francis caught and held Hawk's gaze for a bare moment.

 

A little while later Mulchay, with his purple sash, strolled into the post-op ward. Hawkeye's heart leapt in his chest. He resisted the temptation to go to him. Instead, he took his papers and sat down at the little desk in the corner. Mulcahy passed through the patients, introducing himself, offering a kind word here or there. When he made it to where Hawkeye was sitting, he leaned up against the edge of his desk.

"The outfit is very becoming, Francis." Hawk drew the priests name out just a little, emphasizing it.

"The sound of my name on your lips. I will never tire of it." He started to place a hand on the surgeon’s shoulder and then pulled back. "I suppose if Radar has returned, then Captain Hunnicutt has as well."

"A logical conclusion. I saw him a few minutes ago." Hawk threw his arm over the back of the chair he was in. Drawing out the line of his body. Loving the way the other man looked at him.

"So, I had a thought." He squeezed the bible in his hands, as if for courage. "It's very hard to change a hand bandage one handed. Can I trouble you to come by my tent later to rewrap it for me?"

"No trouble at all Father." He couldn't resist anymore, and laid a hand on Mulcahy's knee.

"Do you think anyone would notice if you were out a little longer than it would take to wrap a hand?" He hesitated and then gripped Hawk's hand.

"No, I don't think so." Hawkeye badly wanted to kiss the man. "It's a shame that it's not later now."

"Good things come to those who wait." The Father said.

"You better skedaddle or I'm going to be forced to get all my good things from you now." Hawk bit his lower lip, and the Father smiled.

"I look forward to later Hawkeye."

 

But the war has an unexpected way of creeping up on you when you manage to forget about it. A little after lunch, they were hit with a wave of casualties. They were in surgery 17 hours. By the time it was over they had lost 9 patients. Not bad when you consider numbers. Horrible when you consider people.

 

Hawk was drained. He signed a sheaf of papers Radar thrust at him, and then felt a tap on his arm. There was Father Mulcahy, looking just as tired as he felt.

"Ah Father, what can I help you with?"

"I'm afraid during last nights commotion, I lost most of my bandage." He held up his hand. The wrapping was gone, he was simply holding a piece of gauze.

"Ah war. A wonderful thing, we should do it more often." Hawk admired the Father, finding a way to stick to the original plan. After all Radar was standing right there, listening to the whole thing. "Head out Father, I'll grab my bag and meet you at your tent."

Trying not to seem over eager, he strolled his way over to the other side of camp. His bag banged against his hip as he walked. He knocked softly on the door to the Father's tent.

"Anybody home?" He swung the door open. Francis was pacing back and forth a little, and when he saw the door open, he stopped.

"Hawk." He was breathless.

"Oh Francis." The doctor dropped his bag, rushed across the tent and gathered him up. He just held the priest, loving the feel of him pressed against him.

"Oh wait, my hand." It was pressed up between them.

"My mistake, I forgot the reason I'm actually supposed to be here." He waved a hand at the pair of chairs and went to get his bag, taking the time to latch the door as well.

"No, this is just the excuse. Then we get to the real reason why were here." He sat down and held out his hand. Hawkeye sat opposite him and took it gently, examining it.

"Looks good, no redness, no swelling. Any pain?" He grabbed a tube of bacitracin from his bag and squeezed a drop onto each gash.

"Only when I put pressure right on them, or they get crushed by a well-intended Doctor." The Father chuckled.

"My fervor ran away with me." He wrapped the hand again, taping it up. Then he bent and kissed the cup of his palm. "I do, so sincerely, apologize." Still bent at the waist, he turned his face up in supplication.

"Oh my." Francis sounded breathless again, and he gripped the lapels of Hawkeye's jacket, pulling him up into a kiss.

It was like coming home. He slid both his hands up into Hawk's hair, and pulled him in. The doctor slipped his hands along the priest’s hips. For a man of the cloth, Francis had a mouth on him. He was gentle yet insistent, and swiped his tongue along the doctor’s lower lip. Hawk worked the man’s shirt up out of his pants and ghosted the tips of his fingers across the bare skin.

"Your skin is amazing. I can't wait to drag my tongue over every inch." Hawk kissed down to the Father's neck, both of them on the edge of their chairs. He nipped and sucked a little, bringing a moan to the other man's throat.

"Don't stop." Francis tightened the grip he had on the surgeon. "But Hawk."

"I know darling, no marks." He nipped again, and worked his hands around on the Father's hips.

"It’s not about you." He pulled the man off his neck and looked at him.

"I'd love to mark you up. But this is our business, and I'm all about keeping it private." Hawk said, digging his fingers into the soft flesh he held.

"That's driving me wild." The man took his turn at Hawk's neck, kissing softly.

"Shall we shift somewhere slightly less hard?" He shifted in his chair.

"Ah, yes. I have a surprise for you." Francis stood and moved to his cot. He peeled back the layers. "Still regulation sheets I'm afraid. But I talked my way into this." He drew out his hospital corner to reveal two thin cot mattresses instead of one.

"How on earth did you do that?" Hawk asked, amazed.

"Even unkind Supply Sergeant Zale is not immune to the workings of the Lord. Also he owed me 12 dollars. I forgave the debt. And he ‘gave’ me a second mattress." He smiled, a little proud of himself.

"You brilliant, wonderful man." Hawk said.

"I thought it would make the experience more special." The Father said, and cast his eyes down.

"Darling, don't fret. It’s wonderful." Hawk stood and crossed to him.

"That's the second time you've called me darling." He said, kissing the other man.

"Do you mind?"

"I love it as much as when you say my name."

"Then I'll never stop." Hawk sat down on the cot and toed off his boots. In one swift motion, he swung his legs up and pulled the Father into his lap.

"Oh my!" Francis said, wiggling around on top of Hawk.

"Unngh, yes. Here let's just," He gripped the other man’s knee, and flipped him into a proper straddle.

"Just like this morning." Francis said. "But it's time for a little payback." He pumped his hips forward. "It was all I could do to keep my hands off myself when I came back here to change." He said, not stopping the lazy roll of his hips.

"Just the thought of you, hand wrapped around your hard cock, moaning my name." Hawk tightened his grip.

"I'd rather be inside you moaning your name."

"I never imagined I would hear you talk like that."

"I never actually thought you would get to hear me say things like this."

"Do you want to be inside me?" Hawk left one hand on the Father's hip, and cupped the other man’s cheek.

"More than anything." He said, nuzzling into the touch.

It was Hawk's turn to sit up and pull the other man into a kiss. The Father shucked off his over shirt. He pulled back and slipped the Father's glasses off, placing them on the small bookshelf next to the bed. Francis slid Hawk’s over shirt down and off. Then under the hem of the other man's shirt and slid his hands over Hawkeye's stomach. He shivered under the light touch.

"Please don't stop." Hawk said, kissing the man again. He lifted the shirt up and off, letting him fall back to the bed. Then he removed his own.

"Much better." The Father said, eating him up with his eyes.

"Would you look at that." Hawk gripped the Father's wrists and pulled them aside.

"What, is something wrong?" Turning his eyes down, a blush spread across his face.

"Nothing, you're absolutely perfect." Hawkeye rubbed gentle circles with his thumbs.

"Don't say that."

"I only speak the truth. I could stare at you forever." He bit his lower lip.

Hawk pulled him down into another searing kiss, this time opening up the other man’s mouth, deepening the kiss. He felt like he could kiss Francis forever as well. And his dick felt like stone. He could feel his partner's as well, heavy against his thigh. Hawk slipped his hands into the back of the priest’s pants, and up along the curve of his ass. He pushed up, sliding their dicks together. Even through pants, it sent sparks behind his eyelids and heat shooting through his stomach.

"Please, please." Francis panted into Hawk's mouth.

"Tell me what you need." He pressed sloppy wet kisses down his jaw, and licked the cup of Francis's ear. "My darling Francis."

"Touch me, please. I'm aching." He was panting against Hawk's throat.

"Anything you need. Anything." He pumped his hips up, grinding. "Sit up for me." Father Mulcahy sat up in a hurry. Hawk popped the buttons on his fly, and worked his hand into the other mans pants. He palmed his hard cock through his shorts.

"Ohhh, that feels amazing." He thrust against Hawk's hand.

"Stand up," He said, removing his hand. Mulcahy got off the doctor, and Hawk slowly tugged the other man’s pants and shorts down. His cock sprang forward. There wasn't anything he could do except wrap his hand around the base and stroke. He was long and thick, and wonderful.

"I'm on the edge already." The Father groaned.

"Then cum for me. I want to watch you." Hawk licked his lips.

"Nnngh, I want the first time with you to be in you." He said, laying his hand over the Doctor's. "Please."

"If you want it that way, I'm happy to oblige." He stood and undid his own pants. Mulcahy stepped out of his own and helped Hawkeye out of his.

"Oh dear," He said, staring. "You look amazing." He reached out one tentative hand and touched Hawkeye's prick. Hawk made a small keening sound, and took a step into the touch.

"Francis." Hawk pulled him into a kiss.

"Sooner rather than later, Hawk."

"Grab my bag." Hawk sat back into the bed and Francis handed over the bag. He dug into it and came up with a jar of Vaseline.

"I didn't think of that." He looked a little dismayed.

"Don't worry about it now." Hawk took him by the arm and helped him kneel between his legs on the cot.

"I need to tell you something," He gently took the jar out of Hawkeye's hand.

"What's wrong?" Hawk said, leaning up on his elbows.

"I've never, well," He colored.

"Francis, have you never done this?"

"No." He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. Hawk sat up and took the jar back from the Father.

"I'd be honored to be your first. But I don't want to rush you into anything. Are you sure we aren't taking this too fast?"

"If you'll have me, then I want you. I'm just afraid, I'll be bad." He didn't open his eyes.

"Bad, good. It's all relative." He turned the man’s head toward him. "What matters is us here. Together. Open your eyes." Francis did, almost shyly. "There they are. So blue they make the sky look grey."

"Oh, Hawkeye." He turned into the touch.

"Do you still want to do this now?"

"Very badly."

"Then get ready for a crash course in sex." He pulled the lid of the jar and offered in to the other man. "Scoop up just a little first, and coat yourself." Mulchay did as he was told, stroking his dick to spread the Vaseline around. The sight was intoxicating.

"Like this?" The priest asked, when Hawkeye didn't offer the next step.

"Yes, nnn, keep stroking, just like that." Hawkeye's own cock was twitching in response.

"Hawkeye,"

"Sorry, ok, another time for that." He shook his head a little to clear it and offered the jar again. "A little more. I've had some experience here, but you still need to open me up."

"Oh my, yes."

"So be gentle," He said, spreading his legs for the other man. Francis's first touch was cool, but felt amazing.

"I have played a little bit in this area myself." He circled the doctor’s asshole slowly but firmly. Spreading the salve around. With a small moan, he slid the tip of his index finger into Pierce.

"Fuck," The doctor shut his eyes.

"You're so tight."

"Francis!" The man was panting as the priest worked the finger in and out.

"Oh, say my name," He said, making small circular motions with his finger.

"I need, nnnngh, Francis,"

"More?" Mulchay plucked the jar from Hawks rapidly loosening grip.

"Yes!"

"Anything." He slipped a second finger into the writhing man beneath him.

"Just like that. Open me up. Get me ready to take you." He moaned the words softly. Francis pumped him with two fingers, unsure of where to go next. Hawk, sensing this, held up his hand and scissored his fingers back and forth. When the priest copied the movement, he was rewarded with a broken string of vulgarities.

"Are you ready? I know it’s too soon. Please, let me be in you, please." The Father leaned down and kissed Hawkeye, alternating pumping and scissoring.

"First curl your fingers as deep as you can in me." Hawk said, through messy kisses.

"What?"

"You'll love it. Promise." He said. When he did, he touched that hard little bundle of nerves and Hawkeye lost it. He bucked his hips at the other man, and Francis had to stifle his near scream with a hard kiss.

"What was that?" He asked.

"That's my prostate. I just didn't expect you to hit it on the first try."

"You seemed to like that very much."

"Touching it enough will make me cum." Hawk said. Francis curled his fingers again, swallowing up Hawkeye's moans.

"I don’t think I will tire of that."

"Francis, now. Please!" Hawk seemed to be losing his mind, writhing under the priest’s supple hands.

"I can't say no to that plea." He slotted his hips forward. The head of his cock pressed against Hawkeye.

"Oh. Oh. Fuck." Hawk threw his head back, trembling. Francis groaned.

"Exquisite. You feel. So good." Mulcahy pressed his forehead against Hawkeye's. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Fill me all the way." He shifted his hips up, letting another few inches slide into him.

"Yes." He pushed again and bottomed out. "My word you are tight."

"Ah. Just. Let me adjust to you." He opened his eyes, meeting the Father’s.

"Hawkeye." He kissed the surgeon gently.

"Slow at first okay?" He said, and the priest kissed him again. He pulled back with agonizing slowness.

"Like this?" Hawk simply nodded in response. Francis picked up the pace very slowly, plying the willing body underneath him. The Father slid his hands to Hawk's hips and dug in his fingers.

"Darling, I won't break." He cupped the sweet man's face.

"I want to last as long as I can." Francis said, his pace speeding up.

"Oh, just a little more." Hawkeye gasped.

"Come undone for me." He sped up more, and remembering the way the surgeon had moved when he hit his prostate, he changed his angle just a little. Stroking until the man beneath him cried out.

"There, oh fuck. There!" He dug his hands into the sandy blonde hair of the priest.

"Perfect." He leaned in and kissed Hawk, using his tongue to deepen it. Judging by the broken keening sounds coming from the doctor, he was hitting it just right. But it wasn't enough. He reached between them and gripped Hawk's cock, stroking.

"Francis, if you keep that up," Hawk said, breaking the kiss.

"Yes. That's what I want yes. Cum for me." He laid kisses down Hawk's jaw.

"Don't stop, then, whatever you do!" Hawk met this thrusts.

"I may not last much longer." Francis warned.

"Francis!” Hawk stilled and then he was spilling all over the Father's hand. He was convulsing around the Father's dick and that was enough.

"Oh, Hawkeye! Hawkeye!" He cried out and came. Hawkeye's body was spasming around him, milking him for all he was worth. He collapsed in a heap, spent.

Hawk wrapped his arms around Mulchay's back and pressed a kiss to his damp hair. The other man's heart was beating hard. He loved the feeling.

"Shall we clean up?" He asked, rubbing the priest’s back.

"I suppose we should." He said, slipping out of the other man and standing awkwardly. "But, oh, will you be going?"

"Of course not, you'll have to beat me off with a stick from now on." Pierce took the towel Mulcahy offered, wiping himself clean.

He held up his arm to the other man. The priest slipped in next to him, the two of them sharing a space barely intended for one. Mulcahy laid his head on Hawk's chest and pressed against him.

"In case you were wondering, you were fabulous." Hawk said, kissing the top of his head again.

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." Mulcahy squeezed the man a little.

"And sorry about the cursing. It was all I could do just to keep God out of it."

"It's quite alright. It let me see another side of you." Francis laughed softly.

"Francis, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you held onto that cross so hard you cut your palm. And now,” Hawk said.

"I've been praying on this matter a long time Hawkeye. I’ve known I was a homosexual since I was young. After you came to me in my tent I prayed to the Lord to guide me." He shifted to look up at him.

“Yeah?”

"One cannot be absolved of a sin that one has no intention of stopping. But the Lord is infinite in his compassion. In his mercy. I decided last night, that if we are truly made in his image, than he will forgive. That being with you does not need to stop me from following my path as a priest."

"The Lord sounds like a swell guy." Hawkeye smiled.

"He loves us both very much." Francis returned the warm smile. "How long do you think you’ll stay?"

"As long as I can." Hawk kissed the other man softly.

 

Two hours later they were awoken by a loud knock on the tent door. Exhaustion had set in and without meaning to, they had fallen asleep in each other arms.

"Father?" Radar's voice was tentative. He always knocked first in case the Father was in a confession. Even in the small hours or the morning.

"Just one minute Radar!" He struggled out of Hawkeye's grip, both men getting on there feet as quietly as possible. Hawk pulled on his pants and shoved his bag under the bed. Francis slipped into his robe and watched Hawk put on his shirt. He waved Hawkeye out under the tent flap in the back. He grabbed the outstretched hand and kissed it, grinning wildly. Then he snatched his boots and ducked out. Hawkeye stood listening to their conversation.

"Hello Father, sorry to wake you."

"It's quite all right. Is anything the matter?"

"Captain Hunicutt asked you come see a patient of his. Not doing so good."

"Of course. Give me a moment." Hawk heard the door bang shut, and slipped on his boots. He made his way back to the Swamp and he decided to get a little more sleep.

 

He got about 4 hours when B.J. woke him. Incoming casualty from the 8063. A chest wound patient and all for Pierce. Hawk sent B.J. to bed after the surgery and stayed in post op. He didn't see Francis and hoped the man was in bed.

When he strolled into the Mess tent for dinner, the priest was there. The way he looked up from his book told Hawkeye that the man was only pretending to read it. He moved through the line, not cracking any jokes about surplus food or rock hard biscuits. Just tying to get to the man before anyone else sat with him.

He succeeded and the smile on the Father's face was worth the effort.

"Evening babe." Hawk said when he sat, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hello." Mulcahy bit his lip a little.

"We don't have much time. B.J. just wanted to finish a letter to Peg before coming over." The surgeon tried a bite of the stew and decided it wasn't half bad.

"I wanted to apologize for falling asleep this morning." The priest said.

"No, that was both of us. I forgot how long we'd been up."

"Then I'll thank you. I've never had a chance to do that before." Francis drew his fork through the gravy remains of his own stew.

"Francis, when," He started, and then stopped when B.J. came in. He waved, they waved back.

"I don't know when. But soon. As soon as we can." The priest answered the unfinished question.

"I was half convinced I'd dreamed the whole thing, and also half convinced you'd think better of this and never want to see me again." Hawk took another bite of stew.

“I had some similar problematic thoughts." Francis said, as B.J. drew himself a cup of coffee.

"Soon?"

"Soon." The Father promised and then B.J. sat down.

"Evening, folks."

"Evening, B.J." Father Mulchay said. "Hawkeye told me you were writing to your wife. How is she?"

"She's fine. Erin had a bit of an ear infection but seems to be better now. Thanks for asking Father."

"Of course."

"Anybody know what the movie is tonight?" Hawk asked, sliding his foot slowly up and down the Father's calf, watching a small smile form on the man's face.

"Something about trench foot I think." B.J. said, tucking into his green beans.

"Sounds informative." Mulcahy caught Hawk's eye briefly.

"Especially for us here in the trenches." Hawkeye slopped up some gravy with his biscuit, not stopping his slow assault on the other man’s leg. Footsies. He felt like he was in high school again.

"Be sure to change your socks." B.J. said and they all laughed.