Turbulent 1

Turbulent

Part 1

Posted: June 2, 2006
Title: Turbulent
Author: Ian Howe
Type: RPS
Characters: Sean/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true
Beta: Helena Snow-Renn
Author's note: Alun is six feet one and slender, with dark hair and grey eyes.

Summary: 'Dych chi'n siarad Cymraeg? (Do you speak Welsh?)

*****

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome aboard. My name is Alun Davies and I'm your purser on this British Airways flight from Los Angeles International Airport to London Heathrow. Also on behalf of our cabin crew, I wish you a pleasant flight. We are now almost ready for take off and I would like to draw your attention to the safety procedures..."

I had not expected anything unusual on this flight. The first indication that something out of the ordinary might happen occurred when Connie and I greeted our first-class passengers with practised smiles. Connie is a nice woman and I really like working with her. I was just about to get the champagne for our guests when I heard her murmur, "Trouble." It made me look up, and I saw a blond man entering the cabin. He looked vaguely familiar and distinctly ill at ease. After checking his boarding pass, Connie directed him to the window seat next to an emergency exit. "Aerophobia", she whispered to me in passing. Well, nothing we couldn't handle.

It seemed we were lucky, though, as this one appeared to be the only passenger to watch out for. Also, he was seated on the right hand side of the aisle and that made him - at least technically speaking - Connie's problem. Yet, there was something about this guy. Despite his obvious nervousness, he radiated an essence of masculinity that cut straight to my groin.

Although it is common knowledge that many male flight attendants are gay, it is equally true that we do not automatically make passes at our male clientele. (Now, most people would not expect female flight attendants to seduce their passengers, so why should we be any different?) Most of the travellers are not that attractive anyway with their pot-bellies and nylon socks. In this case, however, I decided that I would not at all mind a deviation from the usual.

The 'boarding completed' announcement pulled me from my musings and I prepared to deliver the safety show. My blond was the only one who watched me demonstrate how to buckle and unbuckle the seat belts. As I did not need to concentrate on this task, my thoughts wandered to what it would feel like to unbuckle his belt instead... While I pointed out the emergency exit directly next to him, I gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back somewhat shyly and apologetically.

I watched him during take-off — the ruggedly handsome face was drenched with sweat and the lips were drawn tight, his white-knuckled hands clenched into fists. He was pathetic. Inwardly flinching at the sight, my heart went out to him. I leaned into Connie next to me and asked her to let me serve the right aisle during this flight.

"Someone interesting on that side?" she asked with a lopsided grin.

"Bloke in 4A," I replied and she laughed.

"You'd better forget it. That's Sean Bean - lady's man, movie star, and all-around tough guy. Except for his noted fear of flying, of course. He is about the most patently heterosexual man you can find in Britain, a real alpha male. You'll never score with him, believe me!"

At least that explained the familiarity. I was still trying to remember if I had ever seen him in a movie when the 'fasten seatbelts' signs were turned off. We rose from our seats to get back to work, which was mainly to keep our charges happy and occupied for the 10 hours it took to fly from LAX to Heathrow. Smirking, Connie strode off to the left, and mouthed "Enjoy" as she went.

I sighed and made for the galley to prepare fresh coffee and tea. It looked as if Sean Bean was really a lost cause. Then again, Connie was right, and I might at least enjoy the sight and try to make him comfortable.

My wish that Sean would ease up once we reached our cruising altitude was not to be granted. Unfortunately, he remained stiff and tense. When we hit minor turbulence his expression changed from just-about-concealed anxiety to undisguised horror within a second. He jumped from his seat and hurried to the lavatory.

I hovered next to the toilets to be near if he needed help. He emerged after a few minutes, his posture hunched and his complexion had gone from white to a greenish tinge. The plane lurched again and he reached out blindly for a hold. His hand found my sleeve and clutched at it as if he never meant to let it go again. I lightly put my free hand on his arm and turned him toward the aisle. His skin felt cold and clammy and he was shaking like a leaf. Prompting him to take deep breaths, I gently pushed him into his seat.

Ten minutes and three panic attacks later he finally managed to regain control over his ragged nerves. The trembling diminished and he licked his lips in embarrassment. This utterly erotic gesture made my blood surge again to my lower abdomen. Thank goodness he was sufficiently distracted and he immediately started to apologise for his irrational behaviour. I assured him that he was welcome and told him to stop worrying. At that, he relaxed a little - due to the now calm motion of the plane rather than my soothing - and, closing his eyes in temporary relief, he sagged back.

An instant later he opened his eyes again and frowned at me, as if confused as to why I was still sitting next to him. His gaze followed mine to my sleeve which he still clutched firmly. He let it go and blushed.

"Fuckin' hell, I'm really good at making an arse of meself, eh?" he groaned, laughing a little shakily.

I just smiled at him reassuringly and suggested that a cup of tea might help to further restore his spirits.

"Yeah, right. And I think I could also do with a stronger drink now."

I brought him tea and a gin and tonic, and was satisfied that he looked more composed now, if still uneasy. Then I took care of the other passengers and poured tea for the cockpit crew. Once there, I inquired about possible turbulence during the remainder of the flight. It looked as if we had outflown a rough patch but might be in for another stretch later on. I informed my troubled charge that we were past the rough bit, unashamedly neglecting to tell him the outlook. He was better off not knowing. My forecast was met with a warm smile. It cheered him up considerably and he looked almost relaxed now.

Sean continued to improve and I even coaxed him into having dinner. While we were waiting for our passengers to finish eating, Connie congratulated me for handling our most troublesome passenger so smoothly. I think she was glad that I took care of him. Of course, it didn't stop her from leaning towards me with a conspiratory grin as she whispered in my ear, "Maybe you should let him know that it will be getting worse again. Might let him cling to you again. Bet you enjoyed holding him very much!" She laughed at my undignified harrumph and left with coffee for the cockpit.

Three hours later the cabin lights were dimmed to allow our passengers a short night's rest. I had settled my charge with another gin and tonic after the meal and hoped it would send him to sleep or at least calm his nerves. My strategy seemed to work. He appeared quiet, although not intent on sleeping; he was focussed on his reading. Sighing contentedly, I replayed the little exchange we had had earlier when I had handed him his drink.

"Alun Davies... so you're Welsh, then?" he inquired by way of small talk after peering at my badge.

"Can't deny my origin with a name like that, can I?" I replied pleasantly.

He smiled. "May I have another gin and tonic, please?"

"Ice and slice?"

"Are you offering rhew or rhyw?" he asked, closely watching my reaction.

That made me blink. Hadn't heard this one in a long time! Slightly breathless, I answered "Both, if you like."

"Sounds good to me, mate!" he chuckled.

I mixed the drink and withdrew to the head, needing a minute to recover. Of all possible directions our conversation may have taken, I had not expected this one! While there is a subtle difference in pronunciation of these two Welsh words, the difference in meaning had a devastating effect on my libido: rhew is ice, however rhyw means sex!

The night had reached the stage where most passengers were asleep. Connie suggested that I take a nap, as she had two days off after this flight - normally we'd have taken turns - and there was no need for both of us to be tired and bored. One of us could easily feed the cabin with juice and water until it was time for breakfast. As I already said, she's a wonderful person to work with. Tonight, however, I had decided to stay alert in case the weather went bad again. Sleep would have evaded me in any event after the rhyw-cue. So I declined the offer, but the mischievous glint in Connie's eyes told me that she would not mind if I took a break for another purpose.

So, when a flight attendant was requested from seat 4A a little while later, I was not really surprised. The current occupant smiled at me with one eyebrow raised, and pointed at his empty glass.

Gathering my courage, I asked him "Sir, would there be anything else I could do to make you feel better?"

His deep green eyes narrowed. They darkened when he slowly replied in a soft, seductive voice that, indeed, there was something I could do.

I drew the curtain around his seat, suddenly very glad about the privacy BA allows their first class passengers. Ready to drown in these bottomless eyes that he kept fixed on me I sat down next to him. When I reached out to cup his groin he blushed and looked away. I gently brushed my left hand against what rapidly grew into a very prominent erection. He looked at me shyly and sighed when I began to caress him.

His strong reaction to my gentle teasing surprised me. Already, his breath was unsteady and he kept licking his lips. Again I felt the blood rushing between my legs. He made soft keening noises that went directly to my cock. And I had not really even touched him!

Growing bolder, my right hand crept under his shirt and worked its way up until it found a nipple, circling and stroking the tiny bud. When I increased the pressure to the bulge in his trousers, my own cock twitched happily at his soft moaning. I rolled the nipple between my thumb and index finger and noticed his sharp intake of breath when I suddenly gave it a hard pinch. My hand went to search for his second nub and gave it the same treatment. I could feel his growing desire while I continued to tease his nipples and firmly rub his crotch. He pressed back against my hand and I knew that his trousers must have become almost unbearably tight.

"Please..." he gasped and I slowly undid his button-fly, never ceasing to roll and pinch his now hard nipples. I freed his beautiful cock from his boxers and admired it for a moment before I ran my thumb down the vein. Grasping the base of his shaft I began to gently pump him.

After a minute or so he lifted from his seat and in unspoken agreement, I pushed his jeans down so I could touch his balls. I brought my other hand down from his chest to cup the heavy, velvety sac and squeezed the swollen glands ever so lightly. He moaned again and I extended my caresses to his perineum which made him squirm in his seat.

It was time to move on. When I gave his head the first tentative lick he groaned. I stopped stroking him, pulled the foreskin up over the head and slipped my tongue underneath it. He nearly jumped from his seat when my tongue teased along the rim while I gently sucked on the tip. "Oh... Ooh yeah! Right there! Don't stop!" he whispered hoarsely, his voice betraying more than just a hint of impatience.

Thus encouraged, I sucked harder and took him deeper into my mouth. He bit on his hand to stifle the cries he was now emitting. His other hand was fumbling for purchase on the armrest. Meanwhile, my hand was still massaging his perineum and things were happening very fast. I felt his cock thicken and then his whole body went rigid as he shot his load in powerful gushes deep into my throat. Despite his effort to remain quiet he could not keep a few whimpers from escaping. I swallowed his offering and licked him clean, taking care not to make him flinch in his current state of sensory overload.

After his breathing had slowed down I thought he was sleeping, so I sat up and pulled a blanket over him. But he opened his eyes in a wide smile. "Thank you, that was... awesome!"

I replied, "My pleasure," and that was the plain truth. I was hard as steel but I would take matters in hand - literally - later myself. This experience would fuel my wanking fantasies for a long time!

But I had underestimated him. Pinning me with a scrutinising look he asked, "Really?" and reached out to knead the bulge in my trousers. As a surprise to both of us I came immediately. I hadn't come in my pants since I was 14 or so, and then it was from inexperience. But this... the sheer pleasure of his touch simply overwhelmed me...

"That good!" he chuckled, obviously pleased with my reaction to him. I was speechless.

His head drooped towards my shoulder and he yawned. I couldn't help myself. I wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, trying to make him lie comfortably. Nestling against me, his body gave a few light twitches and I knew that this time, he was really asleep. Silently blessing Connie, I held him during the following hours. He slept soundly, not even stirring when we flew through a bad weather spell and the resulting turbulence.

When the time to prepare breakfast came, I cautiously disentangled myself from him. His expression changed to a slight frown for a moment, but he did not wake up. After a final glance at the sleeping figure, I closed the curtain behind me and left.

I served him fruit and tea an hour later and he never stopped smiling at me. There was not much time left before landing, but when I came to collect his tray he brushed my hand in acknowledgement. No need to say anything. We were strangers and yet we had shared this wonderful moment of intimacy. And in another hour or so he would leave and we would most likely not meet again. But we would savour the memory - I knew that I would and I felt that this had been more than just a casual, physical contact for him, too.

The following hour saw me bustling about the cabin, busy with the preparations for landing and some last-minute requests from other passengers. The doors finally opened and he made for the exit where I was waiting to see him off. However, I was called by a frantic mother to find the favourite toy of her three year old child, and when I returned he had already stepped off the plane.

I watched him walk away and enjoyed a last glimpse of his beautiful backside. He turned back for a second and flashed me a last radiant smile before finally disappearing around a corner. I shook myself out of my rêverie and rejoined Connie to finish our job.

An hour later, we left the airport. Connie and I had decided to share a taxi and when the driver pulled up in front of my hotel I suddenly felt very tired. Stifling a yawn, I said goodbye to Connie, muttering how I looked forward to hitting the sack. She gave me one of her shit-eating grins and remarked innocently that I could have caught some sleep during the flight. I could only groan in response. That was, until she handed me a tiny slip of paper and pushed me out of the car.

The taxi left me standing there, totally flabbergasted. It took me a while before I managed to read the crumpled note that contained a string of numbers, three X-es, and was signed by a scrawled 'Sean'.

A second later, the turbulence hit my stomach.

*****

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