Dawn Patrol by Octavian

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Dawn Patrol by Octavian

Dawn Patrol cover

Date sent: Fri, 3 Apr 1998 08:43:15 -0800 (PST)

From: Octavian <>

Subject: “Dawn Patrol” by Octavian (1/1) NC-17 MSR

Title: Dawn Patrol

Author: Octavian

Started: June, 1997

Completed: February, 1998

Category: V, R, H

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Late season 4, but not really

Keyword: MSR is in the eye of the beholder <g>

Feedback will be welcomed like the prodigal child at

Summary: A pair of 800 power binoculars can certainly help make the day go faster.

Archive: Anywhere as long as my name is attached.

Disclaimer: The X-Files, it’s characters and situations are the property of 10-13 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement or offense is intended; and no money is being made from this story.

Stacey “Bonnie” Bonner, Gunner’s Mate Wilkes and Captain Alliston belong to me. Please do not use them without permission.

Acknowledgments: Many choruses of “I’m not worthy!” to Tracy, Carrie and Bethany for being honest and brutal editors as well as supportive and encouraging friends. One could not ask for better beta readers. Any grammatical, geographical or physiological errors are mine, not theirs. Thanks kids.

Author’s notes at the end, if you’re interested.

DAWN PATROL by Octavian

She hated the graveyard shift.

Sitting on the bridge of the Coast Guard cutter that was her home for the next two weeks, Boatswain’s Mate Stacey ‘Bonnie’ Bonner pulled her woolen coat closer to her and cursed her career choice for what was probably the hundredth time that morning. She and her crewmates were cruising the waters of the Straight of Juan de Fuca in the hopes of catching Canadian fishing boats crossing over into US waters. ‘Keeping American salmon safe’ she thought with a grin.

One Washington senator needed an issue for the upcoming election and decided that those evil Canucks were stealing the state’s precious aquatic resources. The local press had been having a field day with it: ‘Senator Cracks Down on Fish Poachers,’ ‘US Coast Guard to Put Lox on Washington Salmon,’ etc., etc.

Whatever the senator’s reasons, it still meant that Stacey was stuck on the deck of a 300’ boat in the middle of the Straight, in the pre-dawn murk of a cold September Sunday morning. Surrounding her were the San Juan Islands: small, verdant spots of land dotted throughout the Straight, still wreathed in early morning mist. Just a few miles from where she stood, her hometown of Seattle was still quiet, preparing itself for the onslaught of residents and tourists who would fill it’s streets not long after the sun finally rose.

For all its natural beauty, Stacey couldn’t appreciate the scenery surrounding her. “In California they cruise for illegal immigrants,” she mumbled angrily to herself, “in Florida it’s drugs, in New York it’s guns, in Washington… it’s fishermen.” She rubbed her gloved hands together rapidly. “What next, off-season wind surfers?” Stacey continued to grumble as she paced up and down the bridge in an attempt to keep warm. If she had to choke down one more cup of that swill the Captain kept trying to pass off as coffee, she would not be held responsible for her actions.

As the first light of morning finally started to appear, Stacey got out her high-powered binoculars and quickly scanned the horizon 180 degrees. No sign of another craft within 500 yards; big surprise. Since her fine finned friends seemed safe from the dreaded north-of-

the-boarder marauders, Stacey turned to her left and focused her attention on the largest of the nearby islands. Although nothing but a shapeless mass to the naked eye, with the help of her spyglasses, she could easily make out the buildings and people on the land 200 yards away.

“The wonders of modern technology,” she muttered as she focused the glasses on the facade of a small, upscale hotel built on pilings just past the rocky shore. It was three stories tall and appeared to have only two rooms on each level; the ocean side of the building was almost completely glass and the floor-to-ceiling windows offered guests an uninterrupted view of the Straight and the surrounding islands. Stacey ignored the hotel for the time being; concentrating instead on the small boardwalk that ran in front of the hotel and it’s few neighboring buildings.

She hoped to catch a glimpse of the man she’d first seen leave the hotel about this same time the previous morning. He had run up and down the boardwalk for well over an hour and then stopped to cool down, staring out over the water, his expression unreadable. What had intrigued her was that he’d spent only moments looking out over the nearby islands. He had turned his back on the pod of Harbor Seals playing not far from shore and stood looking up at one of the windows on one of the upper floors of the hotel instead. He remained that way for a long time before finally disappearing inside.

Stacey remembered the way the man’s long limbs carried him quickly and smoothly past the darkened storefronts along the pier, the wind whipping his short, brown hair around his head. He had worn shorts and a tight, red t-shirt; and even at this distance, she could still make out the movements of his muscles in his legs and back. “Beats the hell out of watching seals,” she smiled to herself.

The sky had started to lighten in earnest; but except for the gulls and pelicans, the waterfront remained empty. Just for the hell of it, Stacey swung her binocs to focus on the hotel. As expected, all the windows were covered now; the curtains drawn to keep out the light of day until the guests were ready to face it. Just as she was about to turn her attention elsewhere, the curtains opened in the far left window on the top floor.

Stacey adjusted the focus, watching as a woman wrapped in a dark green robe of some silk-like material moved to stand between the open curtains. The first thing about the woman that caught Stacey’s eye was her hair. It was short, very short. Probably no more than an inch long, all over her head. The color was red, but not the orange-gold that Stacey had come to associate with redheads. It reminded her of the tarnished copper bottoms of the pots and pans her parents used to have. ‘Revereware,’ she thought, remembering the brand. Stacey returned her attention to the woman with the tarnished copper hair. She was staring out over the Straight, her expression peaceful.

The object of Stacey’s scrutiny looked straight out the window. From her angle slightly to the left of the hotel, Stacey could just make out the woman’s profile. The woman began to scan the horizon and Stacey felt a moment of panic as the redhead’s head turned to her left and her eyes seem to zero in on the boat before continuing her inspection of the waters and nearby islands. Her arms and legs looked unhealthily thin, and the outlines of her chin and cheekbones were sharp against her pale skin. Although her hair was deep bronze, her eyebrows were light, hardly even noticeable. Focusing on her face as it looked in her direction, Stacey noticed a flaw in the woman’s otherwise perfect ivory complexion. In the middle of her forehead was a dark scar that began on the left side of her nose and disappeared into her barely there hairline.

In the growing light, the woman’s skin and hair seemed to glow with life, contradicting the signs of illness she displayed. Centered in the tall window, framed on either side by the heavy white curtains, she looked small and frail; but then, Stacey had no way to gauge her height. She found herself trying to imagine what the redhead was thinking. Why she would be staring out the window at – she glanced at her watch – 6:28 in the morning? As she studied the placid face staring out at her, she noticed a pair of large hands come to rest on the woman’s shoulders. She must have heard her companion approach, because she gave no indication of being surprised and simply leaned back against him. Stacey figured the woman was rather short, because the owner of the hands that were then caressing her neck placed his chin on the top of her head after lightly kissing her cropped hair.

His hands moved toward her shoulders and down her arms, so lightly that the sleeves of her robe barely moved as his fingers brushed past. As her gaze traveled down the length of the small woman’s torso, Stacey could just make out the left side of the tall man’s body. He was naked. She could see the outline of muscle along his ribs and stomach, the stark white of his untanned hip, and the long, lean leg which was bent slightly so his knee brushed the back of the woman’s thigh.

Stacey moved the binocs slightly higher in order to focus on the man who had just arrived. His face was turned in the same direction as his companion’s, and their gazes seemed focused on the same distant point. As she studied the man’s profile, his strong nose, full lips and dark brown hair started to look familiar. Surprised, she realized that it was the same man she’d seen running the day before.

With growing fascination, and a touch of envy, she watched as the large, long-fingered hand ran down the woman’s arms from her shoulders to her wrists; the gold on his left ring finger glinting each time the faint sunlight caught it. After several moments, he took hold of her left forearm; as he pulled it away from where it rested across her waist, Stacey saw a corresponding ring on the woman’s left hand.

Taking hold of his bride’s left hand, his eyes, like hers, focused on their entwined fingers for a moment before looking up, ostensibly watching themselves in the glass. The woman’s eyes flicked up to meet her husband’s where they were reflected in the window. They smiled.

He brought her hand up to her left shoulder and bent his head to kiss her fingers; her smile growing wider in response as she relaxed more fully against him. It appeared to Stacey as if he intended to cover every inch of his wife’s hand with his lips and tongue. His mouth worked its way from her palm up to the sensitive skin of her inner wrist while he brought his right hand to rest across her stomach. As her eyes slid shut, the diminutive redhead reached behind her as if to stroke his hip and thigh with her free hand.

Stacey was amazed at the way the splayed fingers of his right hand seemed easily to span her waist from her hips to just below her breasts. He slowly insinuated his hand into the flap of the robe, causing it to open to her waist. He took advantage of the skin now laid bare under his hand, reaching up across her torso to lightly brush his fingers against the underside of her breasts, while he continued to trail his mouth up her forearm. Slowly he started to slide his hand down her stomach, to the thin strip of fabric that held her robe closed.

Just as he began to work on the robe’s tie, his partner pulled her hand away from his side and grabbed his wrist. She opened her eyes to look at his reflection in the glass and he gave her a dazzling smile. Her face remained unreadable, as she and the man behind her appeared to have a conversation without ever speaking a word. Stacey watched in growing fascination as the redhead’s expression went from stern to questioning to worried and, finally, after another quick look out over the horizon, accepting. As she gave her companion a loving smile, she removed her hand from his and returned to stroking his side. He quickly dropped her left hand and reached under the front of the robe to cup her right breast while his other hand made short work of the knot. He then pulled back the edges of the robe enough so that they hung straight from her shoulders.

“Collar and cuffs match,” Stacey muttered to herself as her gaze swept over the small woman’s body. While the hair at the apex of her thighs, like the hair on her head, was very short, its color was unmistakable. As she looked at the woman, her brows furrowed as she took in the way the redhead’s pale skin seemed to be stretched taut over her pronounced ribs and pelvic bones. The man seemed to share Stacey’s concern. He peered over his lover’s shoulder and watched his hands sliding up and down her ribcage, a small frown creasing his features. The subject of his scrutiny seemed to understand his fears as she critically examined herself in the window’s reflection.

Placing her hand over his, she stilled his movements and he lifted his eyes again to see her looking at his reflection. Stacey noticed the woman’s mouth move for the first time, her words indecipherable at a distance, but their effect on the dark-haired man was pronounced. His smile was wide and joyful as he nodded in agreement and wrapped his arms around her; hugging her tightly while he whispered to her, his lips teasing her ear. It didn’t take a lip reader to figure out the nature of his words as his companion’s eyes closed and a slow smile lit up her features.

Relaxing his hold on her, the man brought his left hand up to her chin and turned her face towards his. They stared intensely at one another for a long moment before she leaned her head back while he brought his mouth to hers. Her left hand came up to grab the back of his head while his slid down her neck and came to rest on her opposite shoulder. As the kiss intensified, his left hand moved down to knead and stroke her breasts in earnest while his right moved farther south. When his exploring fingers started playing with the auburn hair at the apex of her thighs, she stretched her body taut, standing on her toes in an effort to get even closer to him. Then when his hand started to disappear between her legs, the woman pulled her head away from his and threw her right arm in front of her. Placing her hand on the window for support, she rolled her head sideways as her husband started to lavish is attention on her neck and shoulders.

Stacey thought she’d never seen anything more erotic in her life. She was amazed at the man’s coordination. Even though he kissed, nipped and licked at the small woman’s neck with an intensity that should have required all his attention, his left hand never stopped alternately rubbing and pinching her pebbled nipples; and all the while his right hand kept up a steady, even rhythm between her legs. It appeared the recipient of all this attention thought the man was moving too slowly as she impatiently rocked her hips in an effort to increase the pace.

He obliged her and she quickly removed her hand from the tangle of his hair and placed it against the window next to the other. Her head lolled forward and his mouth moved voraciously over the back of her neck and shoulders. As her hips continued to pump faster and faster against her partner’s hand, the woman leaned her chin against her breastbone, as if her head had become too heavy for her neck to support. Stacey could tell how rapidly the woman was breathing, by the way her head bobbed up and down against her chest. At that moment, Stacey realized just how fast she herself was breathing and considered putting down the binoculars and walking away before the scene before her was finished, but the temptation was too great. So she simply took a deep breath in an effort to calm down, quickly looked around her to make sure no one had come up on deck without her noticing, and returned her attention to the couple at the window.

Although it seemed impossible, the redhead’s breath was coming even faster and the tips of her fingers turned white as if she was trying to dig her nails into the glass. The tall man’s hands were amazing. As the right moved furiously between her legs, his left came up to pull the woman’s head off her chest and turned it so he could once again claim her mouth in a kiss so hard that it looked almost brutal. By the time he released her, she was trembling and he redoubled the efforts of both hands, while he started biting and sucking on her neck in earnest. The object of his attentions threw her head back as her body began to spasm; the intensity of her orgasm visible by the way the hem of her robe shook around her knees.

As her shuddering slowed and finally became still, the dark-haired man ceased the movement of his hands and focused on brining her down from her high. His partner’s body became limp and her hands slid slowly down the window, her fingertips leaving long streaks on the glass. Her head lolled back against his shoulder as she took in gasps of air, her arms hanging bonelessly at her sides. His mouth moved slowly, planting small kisses across her temple and cheek, making his way to her ear. He kissed and licked her earlobe, all the while murmuring softly to her. Although his right hand was still, he made no move to remove it from the warm, wet haven; his left arm was wrapped securely around her ribcage, just under her breasts. It seemed to Stacey that his arm was the only thing holding the tiny woman upright as her breathing returned to normal.

Stacey was surprised that the man made no move to turn his wife around or do anything to pleasure himself. If the flush she could see on his face and neck were any indication, he was certainly aroused; but he did nothing except to gently kiss his companion’s short, red hair.

Finally, the woman began to come back to herself and gently pushed her husband’s hands away from her just enough to give her room to turn around. His hands came to settle at her waist as soon as she faced him fully. Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed the nape of his neck with her left hand, pulled his face to hers and kissed him soundly just as her right hand reached between their bodies and moved toward his groin. Stacey could tell the woman had found her target when the man broke the kiss and appeared to struggle for both air and control. She was concentrating so hard on his face, that the woman was startled when her partner suddenly pulled her hand away from him.

He stared intently at her for a moment before his face broke into a wicked grin and he bent down to kiss her again. Still holding her hand, he moved forward, causing her to retreat until her back pressed against the window. She took her free hand away from his neck and brought it down to try and reach for him again, but he stopped her. Without breaking their kiss, he moved her hands to rest against the glass on either side of her head. He released her hands and mouth simultaneously before bending his head to her chest, running his hands over her hips and thighs under the dark green fabric of her robe.

She moved her hands over his shoulders and up his neck, apparently to grab the hair at the back of his head to hold him securely against her chest. Stacey could see the crown of his head as he moved to lavish attention on the small woman’s right breast before moving to her other side then he began slowly moving down her ribs and stomach. After a few minutes, he dropped to his knees in front of her his hands gently pushing her legs apart as his head moved even lower.

>>From her vantage point, Stacey could see just how aroused the man was, and was even more impressed with his control – among other things. Despite his obvious desire, he still showed no intention of giving himself the same attention he was bestowing upon his wife. Stacey could see how fast the woman’s hips were pumping by the way her buttocks flattened against the glass and then moved away with every push against her lover’s face. Her partner’s large hands came away from her hips and grabbed hold of her behind as if to steady himself against her thrusts.

The woman’s hands held her husband’s head tightly against her as her own head lolled back and forth against the window. Every time the woman’s head rolled to the right, Stacey could see her mouth move rhythmically, as if she were moaning the same word over and over. Her hips were bucking wildly as she approached her climax; the sunshine reflected in window splitting into shards of light as the glass vibrated in harmony with her now shuddering body.

As her trembling subsided, Stacey could see the outline of the man’s hands underneath his wife’s robe as he slowly ran them up and down her sides and moved to rest his head against her stomach.

Not waiting very long this time, he started gently kissing his way back up her torso, finally standing up before her again. Her arms ran lazily up and down his arms as he rested his hands gently on her hips, waiting for her signal that he could proceed. Finally, that permission was granted when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He quickly reached his hands around her hips and lifted her up until she could wrap her legs around his waist.

It took him a few moments to position her correctly, thrusting into her with more restraint than Stacey would have thought possible. The couple stared at each other as he continued his gentle, even strokes; his pace increasing slowly. The woman now pinned against the window struggled to touch every sensitive spot she could reach with her hands and mouth. When she started to nibble and lick his neck and Adam’s apple, his movements became noticeably faster. She kept her left arm slung around his neck while her right hand ran down his chest to tease and pinch his small, flat nipples. With this, his control seemed to slip even more and he leaned his head next to hers against the window, his rapid, short pants causing the glass to fog, only to clear with each inhalation. His partner turned her face and started to kiss, lick and suck his neck, chin, cheeks, earlobes – anywhere her mouth could reach. His previously smooth, rhythmic and well-controlled movements became wild and uncoordinated as he finally climaxed; his cheek against her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open in a silent scream.

As his breathing slowly calmed, his lover stroked his back and shoulders, all the while murmuring in his ear and kissing his temple lovingly, just as he had done for her earlier. With noticeable effort, he pulled his head away from her shoulder to look at her. His eyes seemed too bright; and Stacey’s suspicions were confirmed as the redhead gently placed her free hand behind his head and brought his face closer to her so she could kiss the tears from his lashes. When he leaned back he simply stared at her, his expression one of awe. He leaned in and kissed her eyes as well, then paused before placing his lips on her forehead, apparently tracing the line of the scar on her face with his mouth.

He tried to pull away, but his wife’s small hands pulled his head down back to hers. While they explored each other’s mouths, they slowly began to slide towards the floor. As her body eased down the window, her robe crept up revealing the pale roundness of her behind in stark contrast to his large, tanned, hands, which still held them together. By the time the couple made it to the floor – him kneeling, her astride his thighs, the fabric had inched its way around her shoulders. Stacey was intrigued when she saw a dark ring on the woman’s back, just above the flare of her hips. She figured that it was a tattoo of some kind, but by the time Stacey had refocused her binoculars to try and make out the details, the man started to lean back on the carpet bringing his partner with him and causing the dark green material to cover her back again.

His attempt to get them both horizontal failed as he lost his balance and the couple fell gracelessly to the floor; her body draped over his just as the robe was draped over hers. Their bodies shook with laughter at their clumsiness; Stacey could see the wide smiles on their faces since they were now lying parallel to the window. After exchanging several small, gentle kisses, the woman lay her head on her husband’s chest. They exchanged few words as his hands rubbed her back in lazy circles.


The sound of the captain’s voice brought Stacey’s attention quickly away from her voyeuristic pursuits. She was so startled that she lost her grip on her binoculars, causing the safety strap to pull painfully on the back of her neck as the heavy glasses reached the end of it.

“The Coast Guard doesn’t shell out $500 a pair so you can drop the damn things in the sea, Bonnie.” The captain’s amusement was evident as he watched her fumble to get a grip on the piece of equipment in question as it banged loudly against the rail in time with the movement of the boat.

“Sorry, Sir,” Stacey said hastily as she finally got a hold of the item in question.

“What was so fascinating that you didn’t hear me come up on deck?”

“There were a pair of otters playing near the shore, Sir.” Stacey kept her gaze averted throughout the conversation knowing her face was red, and not just from embarrassment.

“You’ll look at me when I’m talking to you, Boatswain,” he said with authority, but no malice. She faced him and he looked closely at her for a moment before he spoke. “Are you okay, Bonnie? You look flushed.”

“Fine, Sir. Probably just the cold air.” She was working very hard to keep from fidgeting. He moved closer; bringing his hand up to her face he asked: “May I?” She knew he was concerned for her health and would never let her hear the end of it if he felt she was acting tough.

“Yes, Sir.” She cringed as his cool fingers touched her forehead. ‘Well, at least he treats everyone on the crew this way,’ she thought to herself as she saw him frown.

“You’re too warm,” he said as he brought his hand away from her face and held it out, palm up, before her. She looked from him to his outstretched hand and back, puzzled. “Give me the binocs, Bonnie. Wilkes will be up in a few and he can take the rest of the watch. I’ll cover in the meantime.”

“Really, Sir, I’m sure I’m fine.” She hated it when men in authority treated her this way. He could tell what she was thinking and said: “Look, Bonnie, if you get sick, we all get sick. And I don’t want to spend the next two weeks on a ship full of invalids. Now get below, take some aspirin and go to bed.”

It felt wrong to leave her post when she wasn’t really sick; but she knew better than to argue. “Yes, Sir,” she said as she removed the spyglasses from her neck and handed them over to him.

“I don’t want to see your face on deck for at least another ten hours and that’s an order.” She saluted smartly as she said “Yes, Sir,” and headed below deck. As she walked toward the cramped quarters she shared with the other 18 people on board, she passed one of her crewmates. “Hey, Bonnie, what are you doing down here?”

She shrugged. “Cap thinks I’m coming down with something, so he ordered me to get some rest.”

Her friend stepped back slightly, making the sign of the cross with his index fingers, and said: “No offense, buy stay away.”

Stacey chuckled as she started to turn away. “Don’t worry, Wilkes, I’m going to bed.”

“Well, sweet dreams,” her fellow crewmate called out after her.

Her mind still swam with images of a beautiful, delicate redheaded woman and a tall, handsome man. She smiled and spoke over her shoulder as she crossed the bulkhead: “I will, Wilkes. I will.”


Author’s Notes: So what the hell was I thinking? I wish I knew. <g> When we read erotica, we (okay I) see ourselves as either one of the participants, or as outsiders, watching the scene play out. So, I wrote a fic entirely from the POV of the viewer. Did it work? All mail will be answered. Promise! You’ve never heard of me because I’ve never posted before, so I’d certainly appreciate you opinion on this effort. Love it? Hate it? Want to know why I wrote it? Just drop me a line at: and all your burning “Dawn Patrol” questions will be answered with pleasure. Needless to say, flames will be ignored, so please don’t waste your time or mine.

Thanks for reading!


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