A Sky So Blue
I've had this concept stuck in my head for a while, but only recently started work on it. Theres less focus in this story on the smut and more on the overall picture I was trying to portray, but hopefully it's still hot enough for someone to get something out of. This story contains sex between two muscular, furry males, and if you aren't allowed to view it because of the laws of your country then go away. The characters and the story itself are, of course, mine.
The bar was dark and filled with wispy curtains of smoke, lined wall to wall with war weary plane crews puffing at cigarettes and knocking back liquor. The locals all piled out of the bar whenever the pilots got back from their missions, not out of distaste for the foreigners or the permanent scent of fuel, oil, and cigarette smoke that came with them. It was because they were grateful for the men that came from far away to aid their country in it's time of need. It was the least they could do for the men, the men that gave their sanity, their friends and their blood for the soil of another nation. Respect was the only thing the locals could give that wasn't rationed, the only thing that wasn't in short supply in those desperate times.
It was a surprisingly somber atmosphere for a bar, often lacking the chatter, the laughter, the boisterousness that filled the air at different times. After missions, there wasn't much to laugh about, only much to remember. Every pilot from the fighter jocks to the bomber pilots felt every loss, and knew with lurking fear that the odds of surviving the war were not in their favor. Every single one of them had a number, whether it was on the tip of a flak shell or painted across the tail of an enemy fighter. The only question was how many of them would be able to walk away from the war before their number found them.
William leant forward on one of his arms as the mission replayed in the back of his mind, as black puffs of shell bursts and brilliant trails of tracer fire ripped across his vision even then. Some fighter jock, a new guy he'd long since forgotten that had never been on an escort mission once asked him why the bomber pilots always seemed so tired when they could rest all the way through their mission. The memory made the horse's lips curve with a bitter smile, his head bowing, his eyes closing.
It was true that in some ways it was easier, the big planes were a lot more stable than any fighter was. He rarely had to worry about fuel either, with the huge wings that the massive birds had. But unlike a fighter, the bombers couldn't evade around the enemy fire. They couldn't turn, twist and roll through the skies like a dancer swirling across an endless stage. They had to fly right into the fire, to run the gauntlet and pray to God that they would be all right. A pilot of a fighter had their own fate in their hands, their own life, their own battles.
The bomber pilots couldn't do a damn thing to protect themselves, and not just because of the ungainly flight characteristics. If they maneuvered, not only did they risk breaking formation and colliding with other planes, but they also risked upsetting the delicate work of the plane's bombardier. The bomber pilot could only depend on his gunners to keep the dogs of war at bay, to hope that the escort fighters would harry the enemy away.
All it would take is a single well placed cannon shell in an unlucky place, one hit to a fuel store, one wayward shot into a bomb rack and the whole plane would disintegrate. He'd seen it before, entire planes, seventeen men and tons of metal gone in a flash of light and smoke. Without even noticing it he'd begun to sweat and a tremor had developed in his hand, causing the whiskey in his shot glass to ripple. He took his hat off and set it on the bar, lifting a shaky hand to brush his black mane off his sweaty brow.
"Hey buddy, you alright?" William turned his head as his co-pilot set his hand down near his neck, the meaty paw of the white tiger giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. Even through the thick insulation of the bomber jacket he was wearing he could feel the warmth of his friend's touch, something that was echoed in the cat's toothy smile. Out of all the people he knew, Dan was the only person he ever really got close to.
The horse was a soft spoken kind of guy, someone that didn't often speak unless he had something he felt was worth saying. That along with his tall, burly frame and black fur often made him seem far more intimidating or distant than he was. After flying shoulder to shoulder with Dan for hours on end though, he had eventually opened up to the tiger. They talked about their lives back home, about what they loved, about what they missed the most. They talked about their wives and of their families. Dan had two daughters back home, eight and nine and a wife that was an elementary school teacher.
"I'll live." Just as William was a pillar for the rest of the crew in the plane, Dan had become one for him on the ground. He leaned back into the tiger's paw and his lips pulled at the corners of his muzzle, straining out a smile for the feline.
"Lets get the hell out of here. Theres a storm coming in and it looks like snow. I don't want to get caught out in it if it gets bad." Dan placed a bill on the bar for the tender and slid it across, then turned to walk for the door.
"I'll be right there." William murmured, waiting until Dan was out the door before he reached into his pocket. He took out an envelope and carefully slid it discretely across the bar to the aging Doberman that was tending to it. The gruff dog looked at the horse then down at the envelope, reaching out a paw to cautious place his palm on it as if worried it would burn him.
"You sure you don't need this, son?" Sherman had owned and tended to the bar for longer than William had even been breathing, and he was hardly a young colt himself. Even though he'd been giving Sherman the money for weeks, he still asked every time.
"What would I do with it? The military feeds me, and you let me use that apartment you're not renting for free." William's voice stayed soft, his quiet words more befitting of a school boy than a thirty year old man that stood nearly six foot five.
"You could send some of it-" Sherman paled when he realized what he said, the words leaving his muzzle before he even realized what he was saying.
"Home?" William finished for him, his big blue eyes shimmering for only a moment in the flickering candlelight.
"I'm sorry Will, I didn't, I mean I wasn't-" William lifted a hand across the bar and placed it on the dog's shoulder, his thick fingers squeezing where they came to rest. Sherman was a tough old man, one that time had treated well but he knew full well the horse could break him on the bar on a whim. Instead, William just patted his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.
"Just make sure the money gets to the sisters, for the children, you understand?" Sherman's shoulders relaxed as the horse's hand slipped from his shoulder and he started to walk away, heading out the door to meet the waiting tiger by the stone stairs leading up to the street. He'd never seen William get angry, not when teased or provoked, not even when some rowdy drunks had hit him not too long ago. The only time he even raised his voice above a murmur was when someone had trouble hearing what he was saying.
For the life of him, Sherman couldn't tell if it was because of who William was or if he just didn't have the fire left in his soul to bring out the anger inside. Outside the tiger and the horse left the view of the window situated in the narrow door, walking side by side up the slippery stairs.
There was a storm coming, and that William was sure of. The sky hanging above the built up roof tops of downtown was a drab, threatening shade of grey that promised snow. The wind was already there, cutting down the streets with the icy touch of a witch's old, bony fingers. Some people were hurrying off down the streets but the two of them, pilot and co-pilot just strolled along side by side. There was almost no one outside, no cars driving along the streets.
Nothing broke the peaceful silence that the calm before the storm brought, nothing but their boots on the sidewalk and the wind howling down the alleys. Neither of them dared disrupt the silence, the peace that could only be found at the side of your most trusted friend. There was no constant back and fourth of radio chatter, no throaty hum of mighty prop engines, no clattering of machine guns. If they both weren't so tired they would probably spend the next few hours just walking around like that, trying their very best to absorb the peace of the silenced city into their hearts.
They were both too fatigued though, too tired to stretch their legs and unwind their minds by wandering aimlessly. If it was a big storm they'd have plenty of downtime at least, sheltered from the war by the limitations of the very machinery that drove it forward. The men fighting on the ground would have no such luck. It was a short walk from the bar to the apartment that they shared, only a few blocks away and five flights of stairs off the street. Dan opened the door and put his arm around William's back, pulling the horse forward into the tiny apartment. There was only one bedroom, one bath, one cozy living room with a single dull red couch they could barely fit on together.
"Sit down on the couch." Dan told him, his hands curling on the inside of William's jacket to strip it off his shoulders. He hung it on a brass hook on the back of the door along with his own, then locked the door and walked to the fridge. He pulled out two beers and a half eaten sandwich on a plate, setting both on the coffee table in front of William. He wasn't hungry, he almost never was, but if he didn't eat Dan might start to worry about him. He picked up the sandwich and started to take small bites, washing it down with cheap beer to the approval of the tiger.
"I'm going to go pour a bath. Finish that before it goes bad." The six foot tall tiger took his hat off and tossed it on the table, his short, light blonde hair almost as pale as the white fur on his body. He walked off down a short hallway, the old wooden boards beneath his feet not creaking a single time due to his natural grace. Dan was shorter than William by about five inches, but the tiger was still muscular, an athlete that would have had a tough time in the cockpit of a fighter. He had been a gym teacher before the war in some small town, teaching at the same high school he set records in when he was younger. They were still all unbroken the last time he checked, it was something his wife would update him on whenever she wrote Dan a letter. Just as the last of the sandwich passed his lips, he heard the tiger call to him from the bathroom.
"Come on and get in here while the water's hot!" William smiled and rose to his feet, his fingers popping open the buttons on his tan shirt uniform shirt one by one. He left it along with the matching pants on the floor, walking into the bathroom wearing only his dog tags and his wedding band. The tiger was already in the water, leant back against the rim of the huge claw-footed bathtub that was in the cramped bathroom. William couldn't even fathom how the thing even fit into the bathroom in the first place, but he was grateful for it. His eyes traced across the upper third of the tiger's chest and his arms, drifting downward to huge mounds of bubbles floating on top of the steamy water.
"A bubble bath?" William strained and held in his chuckle, standing nude in the doorway as he looked at the tiger.
"Yeah. I like bubble baths. You should know since you've taken at least ten of them with me by now." Dan replied, drumming his fingers on the rim of the bathtub. "Get in." William shook his head and closed his eyes with his hand on his forehead, feigning exasperation as he climbed into the tub with his back to the feline.
The water was hot and the tub was deep, swallowing the bodies of the two males with plenty of room to spare. As he laid back between Dan's legs and against his body, the tiger's arms lowered from the rim of the tub to dip beneath the horse's arms. His hands rested on his chest, pulling him close and holding him up with his head resting across Dan's collar bone. Dan was holding his head just above water in more ways than the tiger knew.
Beneath the water he lifted one of his hands and rested it on Dan's, their wedding rings scrapping against one another as Will laced their fingers together. Dan's other hand began to wander down his chest, his fingertips tracing along the prominant ridges of muscle and the valleys between them. William just laid there with his eyes staring out across the tiger's black and white fur as the fingers drew across the thick sheath between his thighs, eliciting a tremor from his body.
It brought him back to the here and now, focusing in on the sensations of the moment instead of his haunting thoughts. The hand kept going until it was resting on his balls, rolling them back and forth between his fingers like a set of delicate plums. Even though he didn't touch Dan's in a lewd way or try to grind back against him, the tiger's dick was starting to grow firm against the sculpted ass that was resting against it.
William's dick was growing as well, sliding out of his sheath under the tender ministrations of the tiger's paw. The heat of the water that greeted his flesh made him draw in a sharp through his teeth, his body tensing for only a moment before going slack against Dan's once more. William let himself become lost in the tiger's arms as the hand gripped his dick beneath the water, his hand working it with all the care he placed into the controls of their plane.
Dan's hands weren't calloused, they were soft, softer than any man would have probably guessed after looking at the tiger. They had all the soothing touch of a woman's hand but all the size and strength of a male in his prime, a set of hands that could erase the worries from one's heart and set it racing in the same touch.
"I love you." Dan murmured, three words that the two only spoke to one another in private, far away from their families and their brothers in arms. William turned his head away from Dan's body and rose from the water, letting go of his hand as he stood on his knees. The water ran off his body and dripped from his long black tail though patches of bubbles still clung to him in patches. Less than half of his backside was still hidden by the bubbles still floating on the surface and the water itself along with his dick, offering a tantalizing view for the feline behind him.
Dan wasted little time in climbing up to his knees behind him, one of his arms draping around his waist as he drew close. Dan eased his dick between William's ass cheeks and up to his back door, murmuring something under his breath as he reached out and took William's hand back into his. The horse squeezed it and the rim of the tub where his other hand was resting, gasping aloud as Dan's length spread his flesh apart and pushed into his body.
William didn't reply, he didn't have to as the tiger's chest came to rest against his back. The warmth of their bodies pressed against one another said more than anything he could have, the warmth of his lover's body deep inside his own. They just lingered like that with Dan's teeth teasing through his mane, pricking at the sides of his neck. He could feel the tiger's deep purr reverberating throughout his body and see it rippling the water around his black thighs. Dan was gentle as his hips pulled back, his cock withdrawing from the horse's body with all the care that it had used when pressing into it.
Gentle thrusting soon became a slow but steady rocking, waves forming on the top of the bathwater as passions began to build. The two had to keep quiet due to the thin walls of the building and the fact that no one could mistake their voices for feminine ones, causing them to only grunt and whisper instead of moaning and yelling. The lapping of the water against their bodies and the tub itself was louder than they were, their mouths clenched shut.
William did his best to keep his ample muscles tight, resisting every push forward that Dan gave him. He pushed back against the tiger, his mind going blissfully blank of all things except the man behind him and the pleasure he was delivering. William couldn't tell whether he was shivering or if it was just the cat's purr carrying through into his body when he came, jerking against the cat's heavy frame as he shot his load into the water between his legs. All of his muscles seized up, his hand squeezing on the rim of the tub, his ass clenching the dick inside of it for all it was worth.
The tiger's breathing went desperate then died off entirely as he drew a breath and held it, his purring reaching a fever pitch as he lost himself inside of his stallion. The fingers laced in William's went as taut as the body pressing against his back as the tiger climaxed inside of him, filling him with a heat so deep inside that only Dan could put it there. It was painfully short, a fleeting flash of passion and bliss that came and went, leaving them panting for air against one another. Dan was the first to move, bringing William back to lay across him in the water much like they had been resting only minutes before. He turned his head and leant to one side, just enough space for him to place his lips against Dan's for a tired, slow, but loving kiss. His eyes found what he was looking for in the tiger's sky blue ones, a shelter, a far away place that no one else but they knew about.
"I love you." William whispered as the kiss ended, turning his head to lay it across Dan's chest. His eyes grew still as they came across the pair of hands resting on his black chest. Two hands twisted with one another, with two gold bands glinting out from between a mass of bubbles. Dan loved his wife just as much as William loved his, but in this land an ocean away, they only had one another and no one else. They trusted one another just as much as they trusted the loved ones they left behind, the ones that remained within their hearts even in the heat of battle a million miles from home.
There were only two secrets that William had, two things that he had never told Dan. The first was that his wife and son had died three months ago, lost not to the far flung war but to a tired truck driver. Their deaths had been instant, that was what the bereavement officer had told him the coroner reported. He was offered leave but he didn't want to see their graves or what was left of their bodies, nor did he want to go back to the house where their scents still lingered. The second was that his tour of duty had ended a month ago, but he re-upped for another. Dan had come to the war after William had, and if he hadn't signed up for another tour then they would have been separated.
William knew that was something he couldn't bring himself to do, he couldn't leave Dan or his crew in the hands of another pilot no matter how good they were. Dan and his crew were the only things he had left in his life, the only thing that remained for him to live for. The odds were against him and his crew surviving, but William didn't care whether he lived or died anymore. Just as long as Dan survived, just as long as one of them could go back to his family. If that couldn't happen, at the very least, he could die shoulder to shoulder with the man that he loved. William couldn't think of a better place to die than thousands of feet up in the air with Dan, surrounded by a sky so blue.