Series: M* A* S* H
Code: NC-17, POV, ft
Summary: Hawkeye writes a letter to his father.
MASH don't belong to me - unfortunately. However: no rights are supposed to be injured. This is only "fanfiction". If you¹re too young to be reading this, go play somewhere else. All the credits for the translation belong to Meredith. Thanks for it!
Once again, I am writing to you. Things here are much the same; too much war, too few physicians. The peace-negotations are going no where. But today, that doesn't bother me at all. I want to tell you what happened last week. Naturally, I will never really send this letter. You will never read these words, and if you ever do, you will understand why I kept them from you. Well, that doesn't make much sense, what I'm writing now. Please, if I die and someone sends you my things, please do not think badly of me - your son is. was not always the Hawkeye you know.
Of course, you know Trapper John, at least through my letters. Well, you don't know much about him - but perhaps I have written you enough that you have read between the lines. Having a friend like him makes this senseless war somehow more tolerable.
It was one of those days. The wounded kept coming, with no end in sight. It seems like they keep getting younger with any passing day. I don't know how many hours we were in the OR. I do remember taking a little coffee to ease myself, or at least what we call coffee here. After that, the work continued. It was already deep in the night when we finished the last of the wounded and were granted a chance to take a shower.
Trapper stands next to me, humming a stupid, happy little song. That annoys me. "How can you be so cheerful? After everything we went through tonight - what we go through every night!" I accuse him, but he only smiles at me.
"Don't be so negative, Hawk. We saved lives tonight, isn't that a reason to be happy?"
"Not everyone..." Now, when I speak it out aloud, it becomes clear to me why I am so edgy. I see once again the young soldier that died under my hands. God knows I hate to lose patients. I hate seeing these young boys, forced into service. Someday, I'd like to kick a couple of politicians or high officers in their asses.
Trapper, seeing my expression, steps to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hawk. I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me, too." His voice seems yielding, tender... Am I imagining things? I push those thoughts away and continue wash off the hours in OR. When I glide my hands over my chest, I find them suddenly pushed away.
"Let m..." Trapper whispers to me softly. Surprised, I make no move to stop him from caressing my chest. The contact is so light, feathery and soft. I am confused. What's happening to us? His hands come over my nipple, which hardens; his hands move deeper, over my shaft - with the same result.
Incredible! The fact that this is a man - and Trapper!! - shoots through my mind, but I'm paralysed. "Hawk," again, he whispers my name, so tenderly, pressing himself closer to me. Trapper John and...? The man has three daughters, a wife! I recall chasing nurses with him, seeing him flirting with girls in Tokyo and Seoul. I wonder now, why the two of us are together, and not with respective ladies. And what is more astonishing, I am allowing this!
I can't imagine what you think of me now, Dad. Your son is a pervert, is attracted to men. His this ever happen in Crabapple Cove? Please believe me, before, I was always very happy with women, and I still like them. But this night with Trapper... I also wanted this.
He rubs himself against me. He doesn't have to tell me - I know what he want, what will happen next, when he takes the soap out of my hand. Though I really want it, I protest now, "Trap... if someone comes in..."
He laughs, "Who's gonna come in at this hour?" It is the officer's shower - Henry used it before us, and Frank went directly to Hotlip's tent. We're the last ones to shower. So he surely is right, there is no risk at all. When Trapper pushes a finger into me, I think suddenly of a young soldier we had here a few months ago.
Let me tell you, Dad, he was mistreated by his fellows because he admitted homosexual inclinations. He told me at the time it was just once, a youthful sin. Today, I know how quickly it can happen. Frank Burns wanted the boy to be dishonourably discharged, but I could stop him. What would he think if he know now.
But back to this night. Trapper had prepared himself and was now doing the same to me. 'I'm not a virgin any longer,' the thought shoots through my brain as Trap enters me. Suddenly but gently, I think of Mary-Sue, the tall blonde from the farm down the road. She was fifteen, and I was seventeen as we did at in the barn. She cried when she lost her virginity and I comforted her later with apples from our garden. They always tasted so good, so golden. One of the many things I'm so missing here. This is crazy - here I am, on the other side of the world, in the middle of a war, with my best friend making love to me, and I think of apples. Freud would *love* this; or Sidney Freedman.
I can feel Trap being completely inside me now. He is rather large, but it feels perfect as if we were made for each other. Not nearly as unpleasant as I once would have thought. I have a feeling that, for Trapper, this isn' t the first time with a men.
"Hawk, you have the sexiest ass in Korea. I've wanted to do this for you a long time." He's breathing pretty heavily now, and so am I. I sense him working in me, in and out, in and out.
You'll excuse me for a moment, these memories are not entirely without effect on me. And these army pants are damned uncomfortable. I have to remove them.
So, here I am again. I will not bore you with the rest of the details. Although, I guess this letter isn't so boring at all. And you should know, I regret nothing that happened. Trapper and I - we are always friends. We have not spoken about what happened - it seems unnecessary. Writing this down does help, so I can clear my thoughts and memories. Because I want to keep these memories. Probably I shall continue a little bit.
In any case, Trapper was moving inside me then. At first slowly, tenderly, then faster and faster. In and out, in and... it was pretty. stimulating. God, it makes me hard just thinking about it. On that night, my hands close around the wooden shower door, meant to give users a small privacy. Trapper is gentle with me, spreads my legs to be able to move more fully in me. He reaches around and takes my cock in his hands. Harder and faster, more and more he pumps in me.
Oh, God! The water was still running over us - what a waste, but we didn't really realise it. We're breathing heavily. And then. and then I can't stand it any longer. I'm coming. I'm coming. And he fills me with his seed at the same moment.
Damn, I can't stand those memories any longer. I'm so hart. Trapper sleeps near by, I can see the roundness of his ass and guess the smile on his lips. Maybe he has a pleasant dream. But I should wake him and ask him if he will go to the showers with me.
Until later, Dad,
Your son, Hawkeye