Soldier, Spy Ch. 04

"This is information that should go to General Washington sooner rather than later," Timothy said.

"I suppose you are right," Samuel said, with a sigh. He had been at the cusp of sending his son on the dangerous mission of getting the information to Washington's headquarters. This would save him doing what it broke his heart to consider doing.

A week later the two were gone, taking a skiff at night and rowing as silently as they could under the guns of HMS Asia and to the rebel-held New Jersey shore. Immediately upon reaching the shore, the two were captured and held by a militia band of rebels. It wasn't until early August that an officer who knew Lieutenant Bester came from General Washington's headquarters in Morristown, New Jersey, to liaise with the militia band and recognized Douglas. The two didn't reach Washington's headquarters until August 15th, the same day that General Howe's fifteen-thousand-men-strong force landed at the head of the Chesapeake Bay—instead of being located in upper New York, where, in spite of not coming to General Burgoyne's aid, nearly eight thousand British soldiers under Burgoyne's command had taken Fort Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain on July 6th.

Leaving Timothy and Douglas to cool their heels behind the lines, Washington rushed off to intercept Howe, but he lost the Battle of Brandywine that lasted from September 9th to 11th, with heavy losses on both sides. The Continental Congress abandoned Philadelphia and the British took the city on September 26th. Timothy and Douglas finally joined up with Washington's headquarters as it settled into winter encampment in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, in December.

* * * *

"I'm sorry that you'll have to tent up together," Major Lathrop said as he showed Timothy and Douglas to their Valley Forge accommodations, which, quite literally, was a tent, and a patched-up one at that. "By rank, you should each have a tent of your own, but we are short." Even the way he said it, both men knew that he knew they would want to tent together anyway. Later, as the ranks of those at Valley Forge thinned out dramatically and distressingly, they easily could have separated into individual quarters, albeit still a tent, but of course they didn't.

"This will be fine," Douglas said. "And I think I could sleep for a week if my muscles didn't ache so much."

"Well, there's plenty of liniment around, as well as plenty of aching muscles," the major answered. "Although I'm afraid that there's more a problem of exercising muscles and keeping fit when the army is in winter encampment."

"I will take care of both," Timothy said with a mischievous smile when the major had left them alone.

"Them both?" Douglas said with an answering smile.

"I will massage your aching muscles and then help you exercise them."

"Sounds like a good cure," Douglas said with a low laugh as he stripped off his tunic and britches and lay, face down, on one of the cots. "You know, it's a miracle," he murmured as Timothy started massaging the liniment into the soldier's back muscles and down onto the thigh muscle of Douglas' remaining leg.

"What is a miracle?" Timothy asked. "It's a miracle that you are so handsome and muscular and desirable?" he asked, as he nudged Douglas over onto his back. Douglas was hard, as both men knew he would be.

"Hardly desirable anymore," Douglas whispered. "Not a whole man anymore."

"Whole enough—hard enough—where it counts," Timothy whispered, as he grasped the soldier's cock with a liniment-coated hand and caused it to lengthen and thicken with the friction of stroking. Neither man did more than groan and grunt for the next few minutes as they both concentrated on what Timothy was doing with his hand on Douglas' cock.

"What's a miracle?" Timothy repeated in a breathy voice.

"It's a miracle that we are together again—still—despite the war going on around us. A soldier and a spy, each with his own destiny and with his own needs. And we found each other and are together."

"Aye, we are," Timothy said, although he didn't continue with the "but for how long again?" as he knew that, as a spy, he would soon have to return to his assignment—and, inevitably—as an incomplete man, it was doubtful where Douglas' role in the war now lay. It was ironic that the stronger, bigger, even more self-confident, of the two of them was the man who had a doubtful future in this war. These thoughts plagued Timothy, but what he said, hoping that it would be true, was, "All we've been through and yet are together now tells me that this is our destiny—to be together . . . to be doing this."

Having stripped off his britches, Timothy climbed on top of the soldier, straddled Douglas' hips, positioned the cock at his own hole, and slowly descended on the shaft. Groaning, Douglas held Timothy's hips between his broad hands, pulling Timothy's butt cheeks apart to provide that much more access for his thick cock inside Timothy's sweet channel. The two men strained their muscles and grunted and groaned as, heels of his hands pressed into Douglas' nipples, Timothy rode Douglas' cock hard, with deep concentration on eking as much pleasure out of the fuck for both of them as possible. Douglas moved one hand to grasp and stroke Timothy's cock in the rhythm of Timothy's rise and fall on the cock. Even without one leg, this was one exercise of his muscles that the virile and vigorous soldier could still perform well with the spy.

Afterward, as Timothy lay collapsed on Douglas' breast, the soldier's cock still deep inside Timothy's channel, flaccid now, but soon to be on the rise again for another fuck—and for the fuck after that—Timothy murmured, "That was good. The best we've had since New York."

"Aye, young man, that was very good. And twill be good again—and then again. If there is naught else we can be doing in the way of exercise during the winter encampment, we can fuck."

"We'll be the fittest in camp," Timothy murmured with a small laugh.

"Aye, lad, that we will be," Douglas agreed.

"I'm cold," Timothy said.

Douglas pulled the army blanket over both of them. His hands moved over Timothy's body, and Timothy moaned. "I'm warmer already." He reached between their legs, grasped Douglas' balls, and squeezed and rolled them. He immediately felt the effect of Douglas going hard again.

"'Tis a good blanket," Douglas murmured.

"'Tis more than the blanket. 'Tis a good way of keeping warm."

"Aye, it is. It promises to be a cold winter here in this encampment. We'll have to exercise like this continually to keep warm."

"That would be fine with me," Timothy answered, setting his hips in motion, beginning to rise and fall once more on the reengorged cock of his soldier lover.

* * * *

The winter in Valley Forge was, indeed, brutal on Washington's forces, and his troop strength there was decimated as soldiers succumbed to the cold in inadequate tents with short rations, weariness, and disease. Any promise of payment also was illusory and many of the men deserted to go home in disgust, distress, and disillusion.

Timothy and Douglas stayed on, collating and analyzing intelligence reports as they could for Major Lathrop, who still headed an intelligence-gathering unit for George Washington. Timothy was on the cusp of being sent back to his tavern in Manhattan to gather what information he could there—with Douglas staying with Washington's headquarters, as his missing leg made him unfit for combat or for infiltration as a spy. The pneumonia epidemic that was plaguing the encampment had other plans for Timothy, however. He went down with a fever, chills, a bad cough, and at the height of the illness, difficulty of breathing and blockage of this lungs and esophagus with phlegm. It was only with constant attention from Douglas that he was able to pull through.

In February of 1778, Timothy once more was able to travel and Major Lathrop sent him back out. It wasn't to Manhattan Timothy was sent, though. The action now was in Philadelphia, occupied by the British, now under the command of General Henry Clinton.

"We always thought it best for you to go to Philadelphia after the British occupied it. The action then was there as far as gathering information on the enemy's plans," Lathrop told Timothy. "But you were known by General Howe. He saw you when Nathan Hale was taken. We couldn't take the chance he'd remember you. But he's gone now."

"Of course I'll go," Timothy said, looking at Douglas with the knowledge, regretfully, that this would be a parting of their ways. They thought of themselves as bound together now. He had saved Douglas in New York and Douglas had saved him here in Valley Forge. And they had saved each other in far greater terms than just physical health.

Nevertheless, both knew where their duty lay. "How should I try to insert myself?" Timothy asked.

"As a tavern keeper, certainly," Lathrop said. "That has been a highly successful way to collect information before." Lathrop was being sensitive not to mention that Timothy should collect information through male prostitution too, but putting him in a tavern was an acknowledgement of using that talent of his as well. "And you won't have to look for work. We already have a tavern berth arranged for you. Douglas' family owns and runs a tavern in Philadelphia. You'll go there."

Timothy turned his eyes back to Douglas. Could it be?

"Yes," Douglas said, with a smile. "I'll be going with you. We'll be together."

Timothy didn't care whatever else there would be involved in the assignment, and he didn't care how dangerous it would be. He and Douglas would still be together. Nothing else mattered.

From the expression on Douglas' face, Timothy could see that nothing else mattered to Douglas either.

Epilogue: 25 November 1783

"Here, you must rest. We can't keep up with the march." Timothy and Douglas had managed well enough initially, as the troops, led by General George Washington, crossed south over the Harlem River into upper Manhattan. Word had reached Washington's Headquarters in the Bronx that the British, after receiving the news that the Treaty of Paris ending the American Revolutionary War had been signed on September 3rd, had sailed away to Canada earlier on the day of November 25th, taking seven thousand loyalists with them. As they left, they fired the last shot of the war, answering small arms fire from the shore of Staten Island with a salvo of cannon fire. Washington had immediately set off to march down to lower Manhattan and occupy the city, which had been in British hands during the entire war.

As they drew near Beekman House, where Howe and his staff had had his headquarters and where Timothy had been present when Nathan Hale was hanged, the two began to lag behind. Not content with remaining as spies in Philadelphia forever, the two had rejoined Washington's headquarters and had toughened up—Bester despite his wooden leg—enough to keep up with Washington's movements during the last two years of the war. But to move from the Bronx down to the lower tip of Manhattan Island was quite a challenge.

"Go on without me. I'll rest here apace and meet up with you down at the battery," Douglas said.

"I'll do no such thing," Timothy answered. "We came this far together and we will remain together no matter what."

Douglas gave Timothy a searching look. "Aye, we have done that, haven't we, young man?"

"Even though no longer young," Timothy answered, with a grin. Timothy was twenty-five now, and Douglas over thirty. This would not normally be old, but it had been a hard life for both of them. It had been a hard life for everyone touched by this war. Despite that, they had retained their good looks, hard bodies, and vigor. Life had been hard, but both could still be hard on demand, so, for them, that was a blessing—and it was enough.

"Young enough still," Douglas retorted.

"I reckon that is true. But no talk of me going ahead. We will rest for a few moments and then we will go together, me helping to support you. It will be heaven to be able to embrace as we wish with no man seeing us thinking it is more than a help for that leg of yours."

"But it will be more to us, will it not?" Douglas asked.

"Yes. Now and always," Timothy answered.

They didn't make it to the tip of Manhattan in time to hear the speech by George Washington or the three cheers going up afterward that marked the full liberation of the city of New York after six years of British occupation. It was dark when they got to the battery, which was the center of festivities. But the celebration was still going on when they got there, and when Douglas pulled Timothy into a brick-lined crevice where shot had once been kept, Timothy fell readily into his embrace.

"Do you remember when we took the first salvo from the Asia and I fell on top of you here and we kissed?" Douglas asked.

"Like it was yesterday," Timothy responded. "I wanted you then as I had wanted no other man."

"And I had you that night," Douglas said.

"As no other man has ever had me—better than I've ever had from any other man."

They kissed in the shadows and shelter of the crevice, their kiss unseen by those reveling around them.

"Where do we go from here?" Douglas asked when they separated.

"We own a tavern, Nathan's, just two streets over," Timothy said. "We start anew—doing what we both do best. Doing it together, a soldier and a spy—the best combination anyone could ask for."

- FINI -