Honolulu, Oahu – March 12th, 8:37pm

On the sixth floor of the Hale Koa beachfront hotel, hardly anyone knows what’s taking place in room 618 tonight. A dark ocean is the only witness as it lingers beyond the balcony windows, Tasha’s heart beating faster as Landon lingers between her legs.

“Oh, fuck, Landon,” she moans, her naked body involuntarily squirming as she holds herself steady on top of the dresser.

This isn’t her preferred place to start, she and Landon’s fling having begun a similar way in her car eight months ago. Now, though, Tasha’s slender legs serve two purposes – holding both she and Landon in place so she doesn’t fall.

Landon is perfect in his motions, a gentle bob of his head as he licks and sucks between her smooth legs. Tasha is sweet to the taste. She’s smooth and tender. He loves doing this for her, feeling her body roll and wiggle.

“The bed, baby,” her half-breath states. She wants to make Landon stop and save herself for him, but at the same time, she figures that any woman would be a fool to do so after Landon has her all worked up.

Regardless, Landon hears her plea, standing and taking the Latina in his arms as they quickly swivel to the bed.

There isn’t any time for foreplay. Landon has warmed her up enough. Tasha is possessive as she grabs onto her lover, hauling him down to her as thick legs wrap around his waist.

Landon loves the way Tasha needs him. The sex is fantastic, but the simple way that Tasha automatically placer her hands on Landon when he is close drives him wild. He doesn’t belong to anyone else. Being with Tasha like this, during these past few frustrating months, has seriously made him consider departing the service early. Steal Tasha away. Prove everyone right and wrong at the same time.

‘No way. Not Landon and Tasha,’ they’ve whispered in bulkheads and shoreline bars. ‘You’re lying…Tasha’s not like that…Landon wouldn’t risk it all just for that.’

Landon gives Tasha a reason to make great use of the sturdy hotel bed, her thighs in his arms as he hauls her up and takes Tasha just the way he wants her.

Tasha moans with arms above her head, sweet tits bouncing as they fuck each other just the same, both of them giving into one another’s desires while selfishly satisfying themselves. She continues bouncing, trying to tell Landon where she’s at though the words become muffled by his determination and her thin breath. The sight of Landon’s toned, strong body fully controlling her body causes her to peak.

“I’m…” she begins, enough for Landon to know how close Tasha is to the edge.

“Right there, baby,” he grunts, fucking her harder with every thrust. “Come on! Cum for me!”

Tasha does just that, thighs pressing together as Landon holds her firm. Her entire body shakes. It’s a beautiful sight with her eyes closed and mouth open before her teeth grit. She cums hard, twitching as she feels Landon do the same in her.

He’s not wearing a condom. She’s not on birth control. They both know where they’re at in the process of their romance. It is what it is.

Landon morphs from machine to man, gently easing his baby girl down on the bed. He leans forward, touching gentle kisses to her cheek. Tasha is radiating heat. Don’t make skin contact – she’ll kick him off.

“Oh, god,” she mutters, a toss of her beautiful, brown hair. She touches his cheek. “I love you, baby.”

She’s only said it once before. The first time is always tenacious in its meaning, more like a confession and test all the same. They said they wouldn’t let it go this far. They said it was just a one-time thing.

No attachments. Agreed? Agreed.

An awkward moment passes, Tasha knowing that Landon has been struggling with himself these past few weeks since she said it first.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Tasha’s not fully convinced that Landon really does love her at that point, but she’ll take it. She thumbs his cheek, feeling him slide out in a half-ceremonious gesture. Why does sliding out at the end always seem so mechanical? How can something so simple sap the romance right out of the evening? Still, Landon is out, both of them going about doing what must be done.

The Honolulu night darkens, hundreds of Sailors and Marines all over the island savoring their liberty for the next two days, praying something detrimentally breaks on the ship, stranding them in paradise.

---

March 13th

Landon and Tasha aren’t animals. They genuinely desire one another, but they never get the time alone together that they truly deserve.

Tasha isn’t completely satisfied from last night, waking up hot as she reaches for Landon in the sheets. She cups his manhood, gently rubbing to wake him. “Hey,” she whispers, feeling him grow in her hand.

“Good morning.”

Tasha slides into the sheets, easing her way down until the tip of his cock slowly slides into her mouth. She didn’t have the chance to return the favor last night, so she’ll just have to make up for it now.

Landon’s phone dings once. Twice. Three times.

He fights the urge, but he reaches out, taking the phone as he spreads his legs for Tasha. She’s massaging and stroking, taking her sweet time as a slow torture. Landon’s vision becomes clear when he sees the message.

@Commander_Holmes: Recall. Everyone back to the ship in four hours.

“What the fuck?” he lets out.

Tasha pops out of the sheets, reality settling in as he tells her the news. She’s given up her previous occupation. “Did they say why? Everyone?” Tasha’s phone goes off. “Fuck, fuckity, fuck me.” Her naked ass springs out of bed, swiping and answering. “Yes, Chief,” she says, heart racing.

Landon types his reply as Tasha remains on the phone, both of them dreary and confused. They both finish their replies, accepting their fate. It’s really happening.

Lieutenant Commander Landon Rays and Petty Officer First Class Tasha Yates are now in a very precarious situation. They’re being recalled back to the carrier USS Ronald Regan for an early departure, which is very sudden and highly irregular. Something is up, both of them in a panic knowing that they may be caught fraternizing, setting back out to sea without precious days they’ve looked forward to for three months.

“Baby, no,” she groans, climbing back into bed with Landon. Tasha climbs into his arms, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. “Why do they hate us, baby?”

Landon does his best to keep Tasha calm, wrapping her into the thin sheet as their desire for one another overpowers a cruel world destined to keep them apart. Why them? Out of everyone in the U.S. Navy – why them?

“Come here, baby.” Landon is calm and controlled, the collected and smooth officer she knows him to be. That’s the thing that attracted Tasha to Landon the most. Yes, he’s handsome. Yes, every other woman on the ship steals second glances at the F/A-18 Super Hornet Weapons Systems Officer. High above all of that, however, it’s Landon’s cool demeanor that turns her to a puddle while they’re aboard. She watches him when she can, doing her best not to stare lest it clue the others into their forbidden relationship.

All of that disappears when Landon slides into Tasha, feeling her weight ease down onto him. Hips roll, tussled hair tossed to one side as his face tucks into her neck. It’s a slow and tender fuck, a last ditch effort to have one another for the next…who knows how long.

That’s it. After her enlistment is up, she’s getting out and asking Landon to marry her. Fuck ALL of this mess. Steal Landon away. Prove everyone right and wrong at the same time.

---

March 16th – Fine Seas, 294 Nautical Miles Northwest of Wake Island

The United States Seventh Fleet has assembled in the Pacific, a last minute rendezvous as the Navy steams west.

The USS Ronald Regan creates the center of a formation comprising 12 ships and 75 aircraft, Lieutenant Commander Landon “Indigo” Ray’s F/A-18 Super Hornet fighter craft being one of those birds. It’s been an exhausting scramble over the past 24 hours, everyone aboard frantically preparing for the one moment they have all trained for but never thought would come: contact with an enemy at sea.

Six hours ago, enemy Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles raised upright on their platforms, a warning far beyond any indicator that war between the superpowers is about to kick off.

A handwritten note remains firmly tucked in Tasha’s uniform, a yellow vest prominent as she dawns her helmet and goggles, heading out onto the early morning carrier deck:

Tasha Love – I’ve made my decision. After this tour, I’m putting in my resignation. The Navy has exhumed about all it can from me. There’s plenty of employment out there for a naval aviator. Know that this decision has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with us. I won’t go on like this. I can’t.

Yours ~Landon

Lieutenant Commander Landon Rays double-checks his gear as the sirens wail. The Regan is launching its first wave of fighters to interdict incoming enemy aircraft, missiles with the ability to sink ships reported in the air over Taiwan. Landon scrambles to the deck with the boys, following his pilot to their bird.

Landon – I told myself not to fall in love with a flyboy. God…they all warned me about your type. Cocky, arrogant, stubborn and hardheaded. It makes me sick to think that eight months have flown by with you in the sky, myself left here, refusing to sleep unless I know you’ve returned. Come back to me. We’ll fly away together.

Love ~Tasha

Petty Officer First Class Tasha Yates stands steady on deck, her heart racing as she does what she does best: let the fighter’s engines scream on deck, catapult ready, signals from the other deck crew for the All Clear before she takes a knee with a thumbs up. She is the final thumbs up, releasing the fighter to the powerful thrust of the catapult as it burns hot off the deck and into the skies.

She releases another…then another. The first wave.

This is bad – really bad. Crews are clamoring on deck and ready to go, everyone scrambling to get them in the air.

Tasha my Sweet – Flying was all I ever wanted to do as a boy, looking up to the skies, praying I could one day turn into a bird…

Landon’s cockpit closes as his wave is up next, a purple scarf under his flight suit. Back in flight school, the only tee shirt he could find for under his flight suit before his first day was purple, earning him the callsign “Indigo” for the rest of his career. He takes a deep breath, communicating with the pilot as the bird begins to move.

Tasha releases the first bird of the second wave, another one taking its place. In the distance, a fighter sortie forms, booming and screaming away as it flies toward the danger. An indigo scarf remains tucked tightly under Tasha’s uniform, one of the matching set she bought for her and Landon back in Honolulu. More than one person has noticed the similarities. No one has been for certain.

Landon Baby – Damn you. I blame you for the end of a childhood dream I once had. A Master Chief like my father, I wanted to strive to be the best. But now that I’ve found you, I only want to be Our best…

The next Hornet’s engines whine as they burn in place, the catapult ready. Tasha remains standing, looking around and eyeing Landon’s bird as it's up next.

“Oh, my God,” she lets out, looking at another deckhand who has the same solemn expression as she. This is bad. Really bad. More birds are lining up to launch without any room on deck for the first wave to land. They’ve launched and should be back. Won’t they be back?

Missiles fly from Seventh Fleet, creating white trails behind them as they point up and forward.

There are streaks of fire in the distant skies west of the Regan. Debris floats in the seas.

Against a full consciousness of reality, Tasha kneels and gives the thumbs up, an empty spot where the last Hornet once was.

Landon’s plane is hooked up and pushed back, her engines firing to a screaming and deafening pitch.

Tasha watches every second of it, standing like a statue, as her rapid breathing won’t subside.

Tasha Dearest – I saw you today, out on the deck, going about the business you love. I wanted to run to you, to scoop you up and fly away, the two of us far from this world…

Tasha shakes her head, eyes beginning to burn. “No,” she says out loud, the screeching sound of the flight deck silencing her. “No, God, no…Landon…”

“Yates!” someone shouts over her headset, her name once again yelled to recapture her attention. Landon’s bird is screaming at nearly full throttle, burning fuel as she’s ready to go.

Tasha kneels out of reflex, looking at Landon’s plane as tears fall.

“She’s crying,” one of her shipmates says to another. “Chief! Tasha’s crying on deck! Something’s wrong!”

“YATES!”

Tasha kneels, her friend Kaylee running toward Tasha to bring her back. Kaylee knows. Kaylee knows everything.

‘Look at me,’ Tasha says to herself, looking at Landon buttoned up in the tall cockpit. ‘LOOK AT ME! PLEASE!’

At the last moment, Landon looks at a kneeling, crying Tasha. She mouths something, but he can’t make out her words. In an instant, Tasha’s thumb shoots up, releasing his pilot and the fighter from their prison.

Landon’s aircraft roars off the deck, shooting into the skies as her engines burn bright orange in the morning light.

Tasha stands and begins walking after him, a desperate plea in her voice as she cries. “Landon, NO!” she shouts, gesturing to everyone watching with wide expressions. Kaylee puts her hands on Tasha just in time. “Send them back!” she screams. “BRING HIM BACK!”