One Magical Moonlit Night
by C. Jerry Ueberall


Pairing: Troy/Dietrich
Rating: Slash, NC-17

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. No money was made.

Warning: Death of a major character.

Summary: At war during the day, an American and a German meet at night.

Notes: This story was first published 1998 in Diverse Doings, a multimedia slash zine by Kathryn Agel and Straight Up Press. Diverse Doings is currently available at Agent With Style.

Feedback: Please.


The full moon shone brightly onto the African desert when Troy left his tent. Looking around, he assessed the positions of the guards and chose a way that would lead him outside the camp without being seen. Away from prying eyes, he went straight into the desert as if guided by an invisible line. He walked fast and steady, not thinking about his actions nor wondering where he was about to go, he just knew he had an appointment to keep.

The sand under his feet had changed to rocks when he finally slowed down to survey his surroundings. Without realizing it he had reached a canyon, sandy hills to his sides, a small path leading further into it. Taking a deep breath, he followed the trail. The canyon opened into a small valley, an oasis with a couple of big trees and a pond.

A man stood beside one of the trees and looked up to where Troy had stopped. For a moment the sergeant didn't move; his eyes scanned the place once again; no, there was no place to hide anyone - he had come alone.

Slowly he walked into the valley until he stood barely an arm's length away from the other man. Their eyes met, holding, asking.

"This is crazy," Troy murmured. "If anybody ever finds out, we're both finished."

"Nobody will know," a German accented voice assured him. "This is only between you and me and the moon."

"It's still crazy," the American said while moving closer.

"Then we are crazy." Strong hands reached up to caress the sergeant's cheeks, then took his hat off. "Wars are known to do that to people." And with that, the other man kissed him.

Troy opened his mouth hungrily, and his arms went around the German's hips, molding their bodies together. His heartbeat increased and he felt his control slipping rapidly.

Soon after the first time he and Hauptmann Dietrich had met eye to eye, he'd started to fantasize about the German captain, and since he knew that the other man felt the same, it had become nearly an obsession to be with him just once. And now, when his dream was about to come true he knew he wouldn't last for long.

It was the Hauptmann who broke the kiss. "Nicht schlecht," Dietrich whispered, a smile pulling at his lips. "But I think we should take it more slowly." He stepped out of the embrace and took Troy's hand, leading him towards the pond, where a big blanket lay on the sandy ground.

"Cozy." The sergeant grinned.

Dietrich only raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He took off his cap and then started to strip. The American soldier watched, mesmerized, as more and more of the strong, wiry body was revealed. The moon bathed the German in its light, making his flesh the color of amber, his hair close to gold, his eyes like dark chocolate.

Naked, Dietrich stepped forward and started unbuttoning the sergeant's shirt. "Don't tell me - Americans do it with their clothes on, right?" he asked, his eyes alive with laughter.

"No." Troy grinned, his hands on his pants. "But we can strip ourselves."

"Gut." The German captain let the shirt go and stood back while Troy undid his clothes.

Under the appraising gaze the sergeant felt himself blush. How could it be, that this enemy soldier got right under his skin, straight into his heart?

"I have asked myself this question and found no answer," Dietrich told him as if he'd spoken aloud. "Maybe there is no answer."

The last of Troy's clothes fell to the ground and he stepped onto the blanket to meet his soon-to-be-lover. "Wanted you from the first time we met. Didn't think you'd be interested, though," Troy told him, his hands sliding over the taller man's chest.

"When did you decide otherwise?" the German officer asked, one hand straddling a hip, the other one caressing the sergeant's neck.

"Don't know. The way you looked at me. Or the way you said, 'we'll see'. Suddenly I just knew." Bending forward Troy took one nipple between his teeth, sucking gently.

Dietrich breathed deeply and urged him on. He let go and licked his way downwards, roaming over the German's belly, stopping short of the semi-erect penis. His tongue teased the head, his fingers played with the heavy balls.

"Ja!" the Hauptmann moaned in delight.

The American smiled, then drew in the hard shaft. One hand steadied him against his partner's hip, the other trailed between his buttocks.

"Troy!" Dietrich hissed his name, one hand on his nape, holding him in place.

The sergeant smiled and sucked harder, inhaling the scent of masculinity. He felt like a man who'd been thirsty for much too long and was now being given the sweetest wine imaginable. He could feel the balls tighten and knew that the captain was about to come, but as much as Troy wanted to taste his semen, there was something he craved for even more, something he needed now. He released the shaft and wrapped his fingers around its base to hold off the orgasm.

Trembling hard Dietrich looked down at his lover. "Gott, was ... What are ...?"

"I want you," the American whispered huskily. "Inside me. Now." He let go of him.

The German's eyes widened in surprise, then he nodded. Sinking to his knees to be on the same level with his companion, he kissed him deeply and laid Troy down. His hands roamed over the sergeant's sides, over his chest, pinching the nipples. Kissing the American once again, he let one hand wander down to slowly stroke his cock.

"Yes, yeah, harder." Troy groaned in lust as the German reacted to his plea. He shut his eyes to savor the feeling, then opened them again to look up into Dietrich's questioning ones. "Take me!" he told him.

"Are you sure?" Dietrich inquired.

"Oh yes!" he hissed. "I want you. Need you badly!"

The German smiled wolfishly, a gleam in his eyes. "Move over," he said, giving him room to maneuver. Troy turned over onto his knees, his erection throbbing in need.

Dietrich positioned himself behind his lover, his hands caressing the sweaty back reassuringly. "Easy," he whispered, then thrust into the tight opening.

Troy cried out at the initial shock. It hurt badly; it had been a long time since he'd been taken.

"Sorry," Dietrich murmured, already withdrawing, but Troy held him in place.

"No! Don't move. I need time to adjust, that's all." He breathed deeply, relaxing himself, until the hurt had dimmed to a little ache. "Now. Fuck me."

As if to apologize for the discomfort, the German leaned forward and favored Troy's back with featherlight kisses before he thrust again. This time the pain was short-lived as a series of sensations followed it.

"Are you all right?" Dietrich's voice sounded harsh.

"Yesss!" Troy moaned. Every movement the other man made sent sparkles of fire through his whole being. Dietrich pushed slowly deeper, until his cock was fully buried in the American's body, then withdrew and thrust again, starting a powerful rhythm of sliding in and almost out of his lover, massaging the tight tunnel, riding them both towards ecstasy.

The feeling of Dietrich coming inside of him drove Troy over the edge. He shouted the German's name, for once getting it right, then his semen spurted onto the blanket and the world exploded into a million colors.

Returning to consciousness Troy found himself lying on the blanket, Dietrich next to him, a questioning expression on his handsome face.

"I'm all right," he heard himself say, while he wondered what the German captain would say if he drew him to his side for a cuddle. One of the reasons he didn't follow his inclinations more often was that after the sex he needed somebody to just hold him, and that was something not easily asked for.

"Gut." Dietrich smiled, one hand traveling gently down Troy's arm. Then he took hold of the sergeant's wrist and urged him closer to his side, arranging them so that they lay belly to belly, Troy's head on his arm, his other arm lying around the American's hip holding him in place.

With a contented sigh Troy sagged into the embrace, one hand under Dietrich's cheek, the other caressing the nape of his neck. "I've dreamed of this," the sergeant confessed, "but it was better than any dream could be."

The German officer laughed. "Thank you for the compliment. The same here."

A comfortable silence settled over the oasis. Troy looked up at the moon and the stars and let his thoughts drift with the gentle breeze that whispered in the trees. This night was not cold as desert nights usually were, this night was no night like any other. His eyes returned to the man next to him and he smiled dreamily. No, this was one special, magical night.

"What is it?" Dietrich wanted to know, his eyes changing from brown to green.

"Nothing." Troy shrugged. "It's just, I wish this could last."

"Nothing lasts forever," the Hauptmann replied, "no war, no peace, not even the 'Third Reich'." The last was spoken with bitter irony, then his tone changed to one of wistfulness. "We have to take every day in stride and be content with the good that life offers us."

Troy sighed. "I know. But it doesn't make it easier." He looked once again to the sky, wondering this time with bitterness how the world could be so cruel. How could a God show him the one person he wanted to be with, only to separate them by making them enemies?

"It is more than others ever have," Dietrich said, once again reading the sergeant's thoughts to a T. "We have found each other and we have this night. Do you really wish that we hadn't met at all?"

"No!" Troy shook his head. "I don't regret this. I only wonder what kind of future we have."

"Don't ask for a future." Dietrich sealed his lips with his fingers. "Tomorrow one of us might die. We may even kill each other. We have now, don't think any further." And he plundered his lover's mouth, taking his breath away. Troy answered in kind.

Lust revived and soon their bodies rubbed against each other as if trying to merge. Hands slid down their backs, while they clung to each other in a desperate embrace. Surfacing from a long almost suffocating kiss, the German smiled down at his lover's flushed face and started a trail of kisses down his chest, his belly, taking the already stiff organ into his mouth.

Troy moaned helplessly as he was sucked into wet warmth, pleasure overwhelming him. But he held onto his control long enough to stop Dietrich until he had rearranged them so that he could return the favor. One hand stroked the German's erection, his other teased the tight opening, slowly inserting one finger.

Dietrich hissed, losing the gentle pace of his sucking, then continued, his mouth engulfing Troy's cock fully, his hands massaging the swollen balls.

"Gosh!" The American thrust deeply into his lover's throat, at the same time pumping the shaft he held hard. He knew the moment the German lost himself in the pleasure, could feel it in the way he shuddered, and hungrily Troy took the shaft in, loving the taste of semen spilling down his throat. He reached his own orgasm only seconds later, coming into Dietrich's willing mouth.

Lying together in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Troy felt exhausted but content as never before in his life. Caressing his companion's chest, he told him so.

Dietrich smiled openly and nodded. "So it should be." He looked at the sky; the moon was nearly touching the hills. "Time to leave," he told the American quietly, a sad expression crossing his features.

"Back to war, back to being enemies." Troy shook his head. He didn't want to return to the real world; here was everything he wanted.

"We have no choice." The German captain rose to his feet, extending a hand towards his lover. "But the war will be over soon, for us at least." He pulled the sergeant up.

They dressed in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Sergeant." Dietrich gave the American his hat. "Be careful, there is a war going on out there."

Troy laughed out loud, a sound close to sobbing. "I'll remember. Goodbye, Captain."

They started to shake hands but it turned into a bone-crushing embrace and a desperate kiss. The German finally broke it. "You must go."

It took all of Troy's strength to leave the place, and only when he had reached the path leading to the valley did he look back.

Dietrich stood beside a tree, saluting.

"Goodbye!" Troy whispered, knowing the German would hear him nevertheless.

The wind carried a German "Leb wohl" to him and he wondered what it meant. He saluted, too and turned away, following the trail back to the desert, returning to his camp.

Sergeant Sam Troy awoke to a bright morning sun and the typical noises of a camp coming to life. Looking around his gaze fell on his hat and he smiled, remembering how the German captain had taken it off him. The dream was still vivid in his mind.

And it had been a dream, hadn't it? He sat up and winced - the soreness in his ass told a different story. But how could it really have happened? The only place where a valley such as this could be was more than thirty miles away. How could he have walked that far - twice? And besides, he'd never made an appointment such as this with Hauptmann Dietrich. Yet his body was still tingling with sexual pleasure and the smell of another man clung to his nostrils.

He shrugged. No matter if it had been a real experience or just a very realistic dream, he was sweaty and he definitely needed a wash. Grabbing a new set of clothes he went to the showers.

Dressed and ready to face the world he walked over to his men, who sat together with another patrol, drinking coffee while listening to the radio.

He greeted them and took a cup from Tully. "Anything interesting going on?" he asked, taking a daring sip of the black liquid.

"You can say that, Sarge," O'Brian, leader of the other group, told him. "Seems you need another pastime." His men grinned.

"What do you mean?" He didn't like puzzles at the best of times, and certainly not before breakfast.

"Our troops have blasted your favorite German to hell."

A cold fist took hold of Troy's heart. He looked to Moffitt for confirmation, the English sergeant nodded. "They attacked Dietrich's base camp yesterday - no survivors."

"No survivors?"

"None. The ammunition depot was hit and went sky high, taking the headquarters and everything with it - says the report anyway."

Troy shook his head, then another word sank in. "Yesterday?"

"About evening. Why?" Tully wanted to know but got no reply. Instead his sergeant spun around and ran towards the jeeps.

"What's with him?" O'Brian asked. "Didn't seem happy that the Jerry 's gone."

"As you said, he was his favorite enemy. We all respected Dietrich - he wasn't bad. If things had been different we might have liked him," Moffitt explained, his eyes on his superior, who leaned against a jeep, lost in his thoughts. He knew that - had not fate decided otherwise - for Troy it could have been even more than liking or friendship.

He watched in surprise, though, when Troy threw the cup of coffee aside, climbed into the jeep and started the engine.

"Hey, what the hell ...?" Tully asked, but Moffitt was already on his feet running towards the second jeep, ignoring the shouts from the other men.

He was sure that his friend only needed time to himself, time to sort out his feelings over Dietrich's death, but nobody in his state of mind should be out in the desert alone. So he followed.

Troy drove the jeep along the same way he'd taken in his dream. He didn't know what he thought or hoped he would find at the end, but an inner voice urged him on. If the dream had not been a dream at all, but had been real ... then Dietrich would be alive, then ... He didn't think any further.

He reached the canyon and followed it, stopping the jeep at the valley's entrance.

There it was, as he remembered it, and yet, it wasn't. The pond was dry and the trees were small and dead, not the proud palms they'd been the night before. He walked into it.

How could he have known about this place, and why had he envisioned it so alive when everything here spoke of death? Something dark caught his eyes, he sank to his knees and freed it from the sand. It was a large, dark blanket, years old, or so it seemed. He swallowed hard. If anything had happened here, then it must have happened years ago - and yet, only hours had gone by for him.

"Did you find anything?" Moffitt asked from behind.

He shook his head. "Only an old blanket - maybe a tribe has camped here."

"I doubt that," the English sergeant replied, surveying their surroundings. "Must be a German one or one of ours."

Troy looked up at him in surprise. "Why are you so sure?"

"Because," his friend explained, "if I'm correct, this is what they call 'The Valley of the Spirits'. None of the locals would come here. They believe this place is haunted."

A chill ran down the American's spine. "Haunted? Why?"

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?"

Troy shrugged. "You know, there're normally stories about why a spirit haunts a place, why he can't go on and so .... You should know."

The Englishman grimaced. "There's no definite tale here, it's only told that spirits assemble here, for whatever reason they have to wander the earth. The 'why' can be anything. One story says that a ghost stays when there's some unfinished business, others that they have to do penance. The more romantic version is that they can't leave because love binds them to the world of the living. Pick one."

A sad smile pulled at Troy's lips. "I will." He looked at the blanket in his hands. "Could you leave, please? I'll be with you in a moment."

"Okay." Moffitt nodded and went back to where they had stopped the jeeps.

Alone, Troy rose to his feet. "So why are you here, Captain? Because you wondered as much as I did, how it would be with us, or because our love is even stronger than death?"

A cool breeze grazed his face.

"A little of both maybe?" He closed his eyes to fight the tears. "Why didn't you tell me ..."

'We have now, don't think any further.'

The American shook his head. "When we parted, I didn't think it would be forever."

'Nothing lasts forever.' The wind grew stronger, pulled slightly at his hat, his clothes.

"How could you do this to me, leave me this way?" He wasn't sure whom he was talking to - Dietrich, God?

'We have found each other and we have this night. Do you really wish that we hadn't met at all?'

"No. I don't regret it. I'll always remember this night ... and you." The tears spilled over. "I love you."

Gently the breeze touched his face, wiping the moisture away. 'Time to leave.'

Troy pulled himself together and nodded. He let go of the blanket and turned around to leave the valley a second time.

Reaching Moffitt and the jeeps he looked back and saw a man standing beside a dead tree, wearing a German uniform, his binoculars focused on the allied sergeants.

A sigh escaped the American, while next to him his friend gasped in shock.

"What is it?" he wanted to know, his eyes on Moffitt's pale face.

"There for a moment I saw, I thought I saw ..." the Englishman stammered.

"What?" Troy inquired, but his companion shook his head.

"Never mind. Just my imagination."

"Okay." Troy shrugged and climbed into his jeep. "By the way," he asked the moment Moffitt turned the key. "What does 'lebwol' mean?"

"Leb wohl?" his friend repeated, decoding Troy's word.


"Something like 'farewell'." And with that Moffitt drove away.

While starting the engine, Troy looked back once more, and although he didn't see anybody, he saluted one final time. "Farewell, Captain. God go with you."


© 30 July 1996



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