Denver ARTCC
The first package showed up two days after the Rapids game: a medium-sized box with Caleb’s name on it, delivered to the apartment’s communal mail area. Ben didn’t think much of it at first. Caleb occasionally ordered random components for his Electronics Engineering projects, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary. However, the boxes and notices to pick them up continued to arrive.
By the time the sixth package showed up, Ben couldn’t ignore it anymore. He stood in the kitchen with John as Caleb carried the latest delivery, a computer tower case, to his bedroom.
“You’re building a desktop?” Ben asked, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.
Caleb glanced over his shoulder, slightly startled but not defensive. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Ben’s brow furrowed. Caleb wasn’t a gamer. He rarely used his top-of-the-line MacBook except for schoolwork and Facetiming Sophie on those few nights he spent at home. Building a desktop seemed out of character, especially one that required multiple shipments of high-performance parts and a dual-screen setup.
“You don’t game,” Ben pointed out as he and John followed Caleb into his room.
Caleb shrugged, setting the case down on his desk. “It’s not for gaming.”
“Then what’s all this stuff for?” John asked, pointing at the huge pile of boxes between Caleb and JP’s beds.
"My dad gave me the green light to use his card for a Flight Simulator setup," Caleb admitted. "Dylan helped me choose some components. So I figured, why not go all out?"
“You’re building all this just to play a Flight Simulator?” Ben asked, hovering over the box of a 27” curved Samsung monitor.
Caleb turned, grinning as he rummaged through JP’s desk for a pair of scissors. “Not play. I’m not flying, I’m setting it up to be a virtual Air Traffic Controller.”
Ben blinked. “Wait, seriously, there’s such a thing?”
John raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. Everyone knew Caleb planned to become an Air Traffic Controller after graduating from Mines and commissioning in the Air Force, but this seemed like overkill. Caleb was already juggling ROTC at CU, school, and his social life. “Simulator pilots need help flying around?” John asked, chuckling.
“Sort of,” Caleb replied, carefully slicing through the tape on the box to reveal the computer case sitting in styrofoam. “You can fly around all by yourself and pretend no other air traffic exists, but how realistic is that? That’s why there’s VATSIM. It lets pilots communicate with virtual controllers. It’s real-time, real procedures, simulating the real thing.”
Ben crossed his arms, a grin tugging at his lips. “So, you’re telling me there are people out there who want to be fake pilots to be ordered around by fake air traffic controllers?”
“Not fake, simulated.” Caleb lectured him, grinning back. “And if you think about it, it makes sense. Flight Sim pilots want as much realism as they can get, and people like me? We want to practice the skills without having to be at a control tower yet.”
“Everyone who gets you, Caleb, would be lucky to hear your smooth voice, guiding them in for a landing.” John teased him.
Caleb turned his attention to the boxes on the floor, speaking while he worked. “Look, I’ve got a lot to learn before I’m sitting in the tower on base giving clearance for a bunch of F-35s to take off on a mission. VATSIM’s a way to get ahead of the curve, get familiar with the systems, the rhythm. While it’s the civilian side of things, it’s a start, before they send me to Mississippi for the specialized training.”
Ben raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. You convinced us this is as real as it gets. Just don’t start yelling at ‘simulated’ planes in the middle of the night.” Ben left the room to start cooking dinner, while John stayed in the room to help Caleb assemble his new rig.
Two days after the case arrived, Ben asked Caleb about his new computer as the four roommates were talking over breakfast. “So? How’s the setup working, is he driving you crazy yelling at all those pilots yet JP?” Ben glanced over at Caleb and JP across the table.
“I just installed Windows and Flight Sim yesterday,” Caleb shrugged. “Actually, I invited Dylan over tonight so he could show me the other programs I needed for all this. Dylan and Blake already have their PPLs and fly together on Flight Sim.”
“Wait! Dylan is coming here TONIGHT?” Ben asked, shocked, putting down his spoon. While Caleb had invited his CU AFROTC friends down multiple times, this was the first time one of them confirmed they were coming, and it was Dylan.
Ben’s reaction hung in the air for a beat too long, drawing John’s attention from his toast. “Yeah, remember him, you even went to his place,” Caleb said slowly, his eyes narrowing in faint amusement. “Dylan’s coming over tonight. Why?”
“No reason,” Ben said quickly, picking up his spoon again, though his grip on it was tight. The secret of Ben and John’s afternoon in Dylan’s dorm a few weeks ago was still fresh in his mind, the experience just as intense as between the four roommates after the Rapids game a few days earlier.
Ben stayed unusually quiet for the rest of breakfast, only chiming in when asked something directly. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of that afternoon in Dylan’s room and the collection of sportswear in the closet that rivaled his own. While John and Caleb jokingly competed against each other for being the center of attention in the apartment, Dylan was warm, confident, and maddeningly charismatic, the clear leader of the AFROTC friend group when Ben met them. Now, he’d be here, in their apartment, in just a few hours.
When Caleb and JP left to head to class, Ben lingered in the kitchen, rinsing his coffee mug for the third time. John leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, his eyes following Ben’s every move. He didn’t say anything at first, just waited until Ben finally sighed and set the mug down.
“Alright, babe, spill,” John said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “You practically stopped breathing when Caleb said Dylan’s name.”
Ben avoided his gaze, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “It’s nothing, okay? We were supposed to go over to Boulder for the game and see him afterward, while Caleb was busy with Sophie. Now he’s coming here.”
John’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the counter. “Ah, that’s what this is about. Plans got flipped, and now Dylan’s on our turf. And that makes you... what? Nervous?”
Ben shot him a look, his cheeks warming. “I’m not nervous.”
“Sure, you’re not,” John said, stepping closer and tilting his head. “Come on, Benji. It’s not like we haven’t fooled around with Caleb since. Plus, Caleb’s not going to pick up on anything unless you start acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird,” Ben muttered, but the tightness in his voice said otherwise. He turned back to the sink, gripping the edge. “It’s just...different, okay? Going to the game and hanging out with Dylan there was one thing. In our apartment with Caleb here? It’s close.”
John reached out, sliding an arm around Ben’s waist and pulling him back slightly. “Hey,” he said softly, his lips brushing Ben’s temple. “You’re overthinking this. Dylan’s not coming here to stir things up. He’s coming to help Caleb. And if he’s anything like at the game, he’ll probably play it cool. You’re the only one getting in your head about this.”
Ben sighed, leaning into John’s touch. “I know. But the whole thing keeps replaying in my head. The way he looked at us when we were making out, how it...felt. It was powerful.”
“It was,” John admitted, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “And we had all his stuff on, but it doesn’t have to mean more than what it was. We had fun. It was hot. But you and me?” He turned Ben gently to face him, their eyes meeting. “We’re solid. Always.”
Ben let out a short laugh, his tension softening under John’s steady gaze. “You’re too confident for your own good sometimes, you know that?”
John grinned, leaning in to kiss him lightly. “One of us has to be.”
Ben chuckled, rolling his eyes as John released him. “Fine. But if Dylan starts acting all weird, you’re not allowed to make it worse.”
“Me? Make things worse?” John feigned innocence as he started to help by putting dishes away into the cabinet. “When have I ever done that?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to list examples alphabetically or chronologically? Let’s start when you first met Evan and asked him how he felt about me never asking him out while still being in the closet in high school?”
John laughed, the sound light and comforting. “Fair. But don’t worry, I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”
Ben shook his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You were never a Scout.”
“I was a Cub Scout!” John said, grinning, putting away some silverware.
After the four roommates had settled back into the apartment for the evening, Ben couldn’t help but stare as Caleb sauntered around the living room, dramatically stretching his arms over his head as though the evening’s plans required a full warm-up. Caleb’s dark blue Under Armour t-shirt clung to his lanky frame, and his nearly too-short PT shorts left far too much of his pale legs on display. “There’s Dylan!” Caleb finally shouted when he reacted to a buzz from his phone in the kitchen. I’ll bring him right up!”
Moments later, Caleb swung the door open with Dylan in tow. He looked exactly as Ben remembered: Dylan’s tall athletic frame clad in dark gray Under Armour shiny dazzle basketball shorts paired with a classic navy Champion Reverse Weave hoodie. A well-worn black Vans backpack was slung over one of his shoulders. Dylan’s easy grin spread across his face, his eyes sweeping the common room and landing on Ben and John for just a moment too long.
“Hey, guys,” Dylan said, his tone warm and relaxed. “Good to see you again.”
John leaned back into the couch, one arm draped along the backrest toward Ben. “Dylan. Nice to see you, man. Caleb’s been hyping up this setup for days.”
Dylan chuckled, adjusting the strap of his backpack before moving further into the room. “Had to see it for myself. We were talking about it for a while. Our only concern was the limited desk space.”
Caleb called from the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. “Sit down, Big D. You want a Coke? Energy drink? Dr. Pepper?”
“Coke works,” Dylan replied, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and setting it on the floor in front of the loveseat. Without hesitation, he ignored the empty armchair and dropped into the open spot between Ben and John, leaning back comfortably as if he’d done it a hundred times.
Ben tensed slightly when Dylan’s arm brushed his, but John’s steady fingers against the nape of his neck helped keep him grounded. Dylan cracked open the Coke Caleb placed on the coffee table, taking a sip before turning toward Ben.
“Big D?” John chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s my call sign.” Dylan grinned. “Oh,” he continued, his tone shifting slightly, “I almost forgot.” he reached for his backpack and unzipped the main compartment, pulling out Ben’s neatly folded t-shirt, the navy blue shiny UA shorts, and a pair of blue Puma briefs. “Figured I’d bring these back. I washed them and they've been sitting in my room since the game.”
“Uh, thanks,” Ben said quickly, reaching out to take them. His fingers brushed against Dylan’s briefly, and he draped the pile of clothes on the armrest beside him a little too fast. “I can grab your stuff to return, just remind me before you leave.”
“No problem,” Dylan said, his grin easy but his gaze sharp as it lingered on Ben for a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t want you thinking I was gonna start wearing your stuff or anything.”
“Dylan, are you hungry yet?” Caleb asked, holding up his phone as he stood in the living room. “I’m ordering Buffalo Wild Wings. My treat.”
“Wings sound great,” Dylan chimed back. He gestured toward Ben with his drink. “What about you, guys? You cool with wings?”
Ben nodded quickly, still clutching the clothes Dylan had returned under his hand. “Yeah, wings are fine.”
“Perfect.” Caleb nodded and yelled into the bedroom. “JP! Wings! What do you want?”
A muffled reply came back, “Traditional Wings with Parmesan Garlic Sauce.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “Traditional. Got it.” He tapped at his phone as he finalized the order, muttering to himself. “Okay, wings, wedges, extra ranch because I know you heathens, and...done.”
“Alright, wings are ordered,” Caleb declared, beckoning Dylan to follow him. He gestured dramatically toward his bedroom. “Prepare to be amazed.”
Ben and John exchanged a glance before standing up to trail after them. When they reached Caleb’s room, they found JP perched awkwardly at his desk, earbuds dangling around his neck as he scrolled on his laptop.
JP looked up and grimaced. “Great. More people.”
“Hey, this is a historic moment,” Caleb said, mock-offended as he looked at his desk. “The unveiling of the Kilpatrick Control Tower. You should feel honored.”
“I feel crowded,” JP replied flatly, shutting his laptop. “I’ll find a quiet study nook, just text me when the food gets here, and don’t break anything.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of your personal space,” Caleb chirped as JP unplugged his laptop and retreated outside. Caleb barely waited for the front door to click shut before turning to Dylan. “Okay, check this out.”
Caleb’s desk was transformed into a sleek, futuristic air traffic control station. The centerpiece was a mechanical RGB keyboard, glowing with a cycling rainbow of colors, paired with a high-precision gaming mouse that matched its backlit aesthetic. Two curved monitors dominated the setup, one displaying a detailed map of virtual airspace, the other showing the Flight Simulator 2020 loading screen. A chunky USB headset hung neatly on the side of one of the monitors.
“Not bad, right?” Caleb asked, beaming with pride as he gestured toward the setup.
Dylan let out a low whistle, stepping closer to take it all in. His tall frame moved with the easy confidence of someone used to being noticed. The navy hoodie he wore hung open at the neck, showing just a hint of his collarbone, while his shiny gray basketball shorts caught the light as he leaned over the desk to inspect the monitors.
“You weren’t kidding,” Dylan said, his voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation. “This is legit the ultimate setup.”
“I told you,” Caleb said, puffing up slightly. “I’ve got it all: dual monitors, peripherals, and the software ready to go. Now I just need you to show me how not to embarrass myself when I actually log in.” Caleb grinned, sliding the chair out and motioning for Dylan to sit down.
Ben and John got comfortable on JP’s bed across the room, trying to keep out of the way. “You’ve never flown before on this, you mean Caleb?” Ben asked.
“I have,” Caleb shrugged. I played around with Flight Sim back during the Pandemic in high school, but haven’t really touched it since then.”
As Dylan took the chair, his long legs folded gracefully beneath the desk, and he adjusted the headset with practiced ease. His fingers moved with precision across the keyboard, their quickness mesmerizing. “So aside from creating a downloading and creating a VATSIM account you need CRC, vStrips and vTDLS. Once we get those downloaded, I can log into my VATSIM account and show these boys how we interact with virtual controllers.”
The couple leaned in closer, their interest piqued as Dylan downloaded more programs to the computer. Caleb lingered behind Dylan, a can of Dr. Pepper in one hand, hunched over him. As Caleb observed Dylan in that position, Ben couldn’t resist noticing the definitive lines of what looked like a jockstrap visible beneath Caleb’s PT shorts.
Ben blinked, his focus momentarily slipping from the glowing monitors to the faint, unmistakable lines visible through Caleb’s too-short PT shorts. The cut of fabric peeked through as Caleb leaned forward, watching Dylan silently.
Ben’s thoughts scrambled as he caught himself staring. Seriously? First Dylan and now Caleb! Focus, Ben, he scolded silently, grasping to hold John’s hand and forcing himself to look back at the screens. But the sight lingered at the edge of his mind like a blinking notification, impossible to completely ignore, and he nudged John to take notice as well.
So,” Dylan began, his voice calm and confident, “For this, I’m flying from DEN. Let’s see if there’s a controller online.”
He navigated through the interface, his fingers moving effortlessly across Caleb’s keyboard. On the left screen, a live map of the Denver airspace appeared, populated with a few virtual planes. Dylan selected an A320 for his flight, setting up a flight plan from Denver to Colorado Springs.
“Alright,” Dylan exclaimed, clicking into the communication interface. “Flight plan’s filed. Now we check in. Good Evening, Denver, United 5308, looking for IFR over to Colorado Springs.”
The response came back immediately, the controller sounding not much older than them. “United 5308, Denver Tower, clearance on your request, standby.” The controller paused for what couldn’t have been more than a minute, then came back. “United 5308, I have clearance, advise ready to copy.”
Caleb handed a pen and a notepad as Dylan replied back. “United 5308 ready to copy.”
“United 5308, you’re cleared to Colorado Springs via the Denver 2 Departure, radar vectors to LUFSE then as filed. Maintain one zero thousand, expect one one thousand one zero minutes, departure frequencies with Denver Center on 127.65, squawk 5107. Read back when ready.”
Dylan quickly jotted down the clearance instructions, and he opened the other screen to a navigational map of Denver airspace. “Okay, let me read that back,” he muttered, glancing down at the notepad Caleb handed him. He toggled the mic and replied in a calm, measured tone to the instructions the controller had just given him.
The controller responded almost immediately. “United 5308, readback correct. Contact ground on 121.8 when ready.”
Dylan toggled the mic off and turned slightly, glancing at the three guys behind him. “And that’s how you get clearance on VATSIM.”
Ben and John exchanged a look, visibly impressed. John leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “That was...impressive. You got all that information in, what, like ten seconds?”
Dylan shrugged, a small grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “You get used to it. It’s mostly about knowing the format. Once you know what to expect, it’s just plugging in the right pieces.”
Ben nodded, his curiosity piqued, despite his earlier doubts. “What’s next? Do you fly the plane?”
“Not quite yet,” Dylan said, adjusting his headset. “Now I’ve got to get to the runway with taxi clearance. This is where things start to get hectic if the airport’s busy.”
Caleb chuckled in bemusement, then his phone buzzed on the desk. “Wings are here!” He shouted and exited the room.
Dylan toggled to the ground frequency and made the call. “Denver Ground, United 5308, at Gate Bravo nine zero, requesting pushback and start.”
The reply came back quickly, the controller’s voice crisp and professional. “United 5308, push and start approved. Facing east.”
Dylan repeated the instructions as required, then toggled off the mic.
As the virtual plane on the screen began to push back from the gate, Dylan switched to an exterior camera view, giving everyone in the room a perfect look at the movement. The sleek United Airbus eased onto the tarmac, its engines slowly spooling up in preparation for taxi.
“Now this,” Dylan said with a smile, “is where the fun begins. Taxiing at a huge airport like DEN is basically like joining the dots. You have to follow the taxiways exactly as instructed, or the controller gets annoyed real fast.”
Ben smirked. “So you can’t take any wrong turns?”
“Not if you want to avoid getting yelled at or even kicked off the server,” Dylan replied with a laugh. Dylan switched back on his mic. “Denver Ground, United 5308, ready to taxi.”
The reply came promptly. “United 5308, taxi to runway 8 via Foxtrot and Echo. Hold short at 8.” Dylan repeated the directions, deftly steering the plane away from the apron as he spoke.
The room quieted as the couple watched the screen, the virtual airport bustling with other aircraft taxiing to their assigned runways and even ground vehicles driving around. Dylan’s focus was unwavering as he guided the plane into position.
“Denver Tower, United 5308, ready for departure, runway 8,” Dylan called once the plane was in position.
“United 5308, Denver Tower, cleared for takeoff, runway 8. Wind 200 at 10.”
“Cleared for takeoff, runway 8, United 5308,” Dylan repeated, pushing the throttle forward. The A320 surged down the runway, the rumble of its engines filling the room through the speakers and subwoofer. Onscreen, the plane lifted smoothly into the air, banking gently as it climbed.
As the plane gained altitude, Dylan keyed the mic. “Denver Tower, United 5308, airborne.”
The controller’s voice came back quickly. “United 5308, contact Denver Departure on 127.65. Good evening.”
“Over to Departure, United 5308,” Dylan replied, switching frequencies. “Denver Departure, United 5308, passing four thousand for one zero thousand.”
“United 5308, Denver Departure, radar contact. Climb and maintain one-two thousand,” the controller said.
Dylan acknowledged, inputting the altitude into the autopilot. The plane leveled out as it reached the assigned height, gliding smoothly through the virtual sky. As the plane quieted down, they all heard both Caleb and JP re-enter the apartment, outside the bedroom.
Finally, Dylan made one last request. “Denver Departure, United 5308, request to leave the frequency for five minutes.”
The controller’s tone shifted slightly, lighthearted but professional. “United 5308, approved as requested. Just let us know when you’re back.”
John let out a soft whistle, clearly impressed. “Alright, I’ll admit, that was pretty cool. It was like we were really in the cockpit.”
“Pretty cool?” Caleb exclaimed as he re-entered the room, balancing a tray of wings and dipping sauces. “That was freaking awesome. I can’t wait to be on the other end of that.”
Dylan smirked, setting the plane to autopilot and then getting up to take a wing from the tray Caleb set down on JP’s desk.
“Shoot, one of these is JP’s,” Caleb took the Parmesan sauce to deliver to JP, who was eating by himself at the kitchen table.
On his return, Caleb sat back in his chair, one hand reaching for a wing while his eyes remained glued to the glowing monitors in front of him. The plane was on autopilot, and another screen tracked the flight as it flew south toward Colorado Springs. He leaned forward as he chewed, one elbow resting on the desk, his lanky frame hunched in fascination.
Ben and John remained on JP’s bed, idly watching the screens. Dylan had claimed JP’s chair and turned it around to face everyone else. As the minutes passed, the setup hummed quietly, the action of the earlier takeoff replaced by a comfortable lull.
Dylan took a bite of a wing, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the shiny fabric of his shorts catching the light with every subtle shift. His tall body looked slightly out of place in the cramped desk chair, but his casual, model-like posture made the discomfort seem effortless. Ben’s gaze lingered, drawn to the natural ease with which Dylan commanded the room, even in such an unremarkable setting.
But Ben’s attention waned. Caleb’s posture had shifted, his PT shorts riding up slightly as he leaned over his desk. The distinct lines of his jockstrap straps became visible once again, faint but unmistakable beneath the thin fabric. Ben blinked, his lips twitching as he quickly looked away, but not before catching John’s eye.
John raised an eyebrow, clearly amused as he glanced at Caleb, then back at Ben. Ben made a subtle motion with his hand, pointing toward Caleb while trying to keep his face neutral.
Dylan, oblivious, was scrolling through something on his phone. John leaned forward slightly, catching Dylan’s attention with a small wave. When Dylan looked up, John gestured subtly toward Caleb’s shorts, his grin widening.
Dylan’s gaze followed, his expression shifting as he caught on. His eyebrows shot up slightly, and he smirked, his lips pressing together as though suppressing a laugh. He glanced back at Ben and John, giving a barely perceptible shake of his head as if to say, Really?
Ben shrugged, biting his lower lip to keep from laughing outright. John, less reserved, snorted softly, earning a quick turnaround from Caleb.
“What’s so funny?” Caleb asked, his mouth half-full as he reached for another wing.
“Nothing,” John said quickly, his tone overly innocent. “Just enjoying the show.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off, returning his focus to the screen. “Good. I thought you were about to mock my piloting skills.”
John rolled his eyes. It was obvious even to Ben and John that the plane was flying itself, and Caleb was too busy eating to do anything to control it.
“So Dylan,” Caleb asked, his voice edged with anticipation as he wiped his sticky fingers with a napkin. “Now that I’ve got all this set up, how soon can I actually start being a controller?”
Dylan glanced up from his wings, smirking faintly. “Let me check the VATUSA page.” He unlocked his phone and began scrolling, the glow from the screen lighting his face.
“How much longer are you going to be?” JP poked his head into the room, clearly trying to ignore the mess on his desk.
Caleb looked at the tracking screen. “Probably another 45 minutes to an hour, flight time says ETA 32 minutes,” he replied.
JP sighed, hefting his laptop under one arm. “Fine. I’ll head back to the study nook. Thanks for dinner, Caleb.” He disappeared out of the apartment with a click of the door.
Dylan’s grin widened as he looked back up. “So… I might have some bad news.”
Caleb froze his earlier excitement, dimming. “What now?”
“Well,” Dylan began, his tone deliberately slow, “you have to pass the Basic ATC/S1 Exam first. After that, you need to join a facility. And,” he paused for dramatic effect, “the Denver ARCC has a waiting list for their training pipeline. Six months, minimum.”
“Six months?” Caleb’s face fell, his voice rising in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? I just dropped all this money on the ultimate setup, and I can’t even use it properly for half a year?”
Dylan laughed softly. “Well, I might have a workaround.” He scrolled back through his phone, holding Caleb’s attention like a lifeline.
Caleb leaned forward, almost desperate. “Yeah? What is it? Apply to be a controller in, like, Alaska or something?”
“No,” Dylan said, looking up with a gleam in his eye. “One of my old Civil Air Patrol instructors is a trainer for Denver ARCC. I might be able to convince him to take you on sooner.” He leaned back in the chair, his grin turning sly. “For a price.”
Caleb blinked, chuckling nervously. “What kind of price? They’re taking bribes now? I guess everyone’s corrupt these days, even virtual volunteers.”
“I don’t mean for Major Cooper.” Dylan’s tone shifted slightly, his smirk deepening as he leaned back in the chair, pulling up his hoodie just enough to reveal the thick waistband of his shiny silver basketball shorts. “I mean from you, to me.”
The room fell silent, Dylan’s words hanging in the air. Caleb blinked, caught between amusement and confusion. “Wait, what?” he asked, his laughter tapering off as he straightened in his chair.
Ben and John exchanged a nervous glance, both unsure if Dylan was joking or serious. Dylan’s grin widened, his relaxed demeanor radiating confidence as he leaned further back into the chair, letting his hoodie ride up just enough to emphasize the playful swagger in his stance. Finally, Dylan spoke again. “Well, you’ve been teasing us all by showing that jock strap of yours under those PT shorts all night. I’ve never seen you wear something like that at the Detachment, and well, you’ve been making Ben blush all night.”
Caleb stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back a few inches. “I wasn’t—what do you mean I’ve been teasing? I just threw these on after class.” He tugged at the hem of his shorts in an attempt to smooth them out, though it only seemed to draw more attention to the lines Dylan had pointed out.
“Well, Ben was the last one to feel this inside him.” Dylan sighed as he adjusted himself through the fabric of his dazzle shorts. “I’ve been hoping to see more of you, Caleb, for a while. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“What the hell, Dylan? You’re seriously into guys?” Caleb stammered. “When did you get with Ben to…..Oh my God…You watched John?” The room was thick with tension as Caleb’s words struck a chord, his shock evident. He glanced between Dylan, Ben, and John, his mind clearly racing to piece together the implications of what Dylan had just said.
Dylan leaned back again, still grinning but now overseeing Caleb. “Yeah, I am. Don’t exactly wear it on my sleeve, but I try to give the hints when I think something might come out of it.”
Caleb blinked, his gaze flicking to Ben and John for confirmation. Ben’s face was crimson, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. John, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered, leaning casually against the wall with a bemused expression as if trying to keep to his promise to Ben about behaving.
“Yeah, I was there,” John said, his tone light but firm. “And yes, Dylan’s telling the truth. We’ve all hung out after Ben took his shower, in more ways than one, at Dylan’s place, just like we do here at home with you and JP.”
Dylan leaned forward and chuckled. “Oh, so Caleb’s already familiar territory to you and Ben? I’m just the alternate?”
Ben tried to look away from them both, and all John could do was nod in the affirmative.
“So you’re gay, Dylan?” Caleb said, still looking flustered. “If you wanted to fool around with me, Dylan, how come you didn’t drop any hints about it?”
“No, I’m bi like John.” Dylan let out a big sigh. “I’ve just never risked doing it with anyone in ROTC until now, I guess. But Caleb, should you let me do this, I’ll do everything I can to convince him to move you into that training queue.”
“But I’m not into butt stuff.” Caleb hesitated.
“Really, man? You’re wearing that around us would suggest otherwise.” Dylan shook his head.
“You can start with my dildo, Caleb, see how you like that at first,” Ben suggested, trying to break the impasse.
“Fuck, do I even have a choice?” Caleb lamented. “It feels like you guys are all ganging up on me to do this.”
“It’s up to you,” Dylan said, getting up. “But it’s a shame you’re not even gonna give us something more than a little show. Now that John tells me all you roomies are sleeping together, I kinda wish I came out here sooner.”
Dylan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Tell you what. You say the word, and I drop it. No strings, no hard feelings.” He paused. “But if you’re even a little curious about bottoming… now’s your shot.”
Caleb’s breath hitched. His eyes darted between Dylan’s face, the knowing smirks of Ben and John, and the traitorous heat pooling low in his stomach.
Then, Caleb replied barely audible: “…What would we even do?”
Dylan’s smile was slow, victorious. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Alright,” Caleb finally said, his voice low and uncertain. “But seriously, no one, and I mean no one, says a word about this even to JP.”
“Fine! I’ll go get it!” Ben exclaimed excitedly, darting to his bedroom to retrieve the sex toy he and John kept between their beds.
In the meantime, Dylan closed the distance between himself and Caleb, his movements deliberate but unhurried. He reached for the hem of Caleb’s loose Under Armour t-shirt, his fingers brushing the fabric as Caleb’s gaze remained fixed on him, a glint of unease in his expression. With a smooth motion, Dylan lifted the shirt over Caleb’s head, exposing his compact, smooth six-pack abs.
Dylan barely hesitated before moving to Caleb’s PT shorts. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he tugged them down in one swift motion, leaving Caleb standing there in nothing but a black Nike jockstrap. Caleb’s cheeks flushed as the room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable.
Not wanting to be left out, John leapt onto Caleb’s bed, sprawling out as Dylan pressed Caleb down onto the mattress. Caleb shifted under Dylan’s weight, the uncertainty in his eyes mingling with reluctant curiosity.
Dylan teased the straps of the jock strap with his fingers then knelt down on the floor. He lifted Caleb’s long legs over his shoulders and buried his face between the straps, licking Caleb’s virgin hole, and working his way to Caleb’s gooch.
“Fuckkkkkk.” Caleb groaned as Dylan masterfully rimmed him, his eyes widened in shock and pleasure as Dylan continued to lick and kiss his intimate areas. Despite his long-held hesitation and reluctance, he found himself becoming increasingly aroused. His body responded instinctively to the sensations, and he felt a mix of fear and excitement. In addition to Dylan’s ministrations, John playfully ran his hands through Caleb’s hair as he awaited Ben’s return.
Finally, Ben entered the room, wearing Dylan’s longer XL royal blue and black Under Armour Pressure shorts. After Ben locked the door behind him, he tossed the dildo onto the bed, followed by the Gun Oil and a condom from Caleb's bathroom. The sight of these items sent a shiver down Caleb's spine, but it was no longer one of fear or hesitation. Instead, he felt a sense of anticipation building within him, as if he was on the verge of something he thought he would be a part of.
Ben and John settled on the bed, and John started to undress. The two got into a 69 position as Dylan grabbed the dildo and coated it with a liberal amount of gun oil. Caleb's eyes widened in surprise as Dylan pressed the dildo into him, the sensation of the Gun Oil-coated toy filling his rectum.
As John pulled the blue Under Armour shorts off Ben, it was revealed he was wearing Dylan’s borrowed gray Nike underwear as well. Dylan couldn’t help but smile that Ben had them on again, even as he was about to return them. He began to move slowly, the dildo gliding in and out of Caleb's body with a smooth, slick motion.
Caleb gasped, feeling a mix of surprise and pleasure at the sensations vibrating inside him. He glanced up at Ben and John, who were still lost in their own world, oblivious to what was happening beside them.
John's eyes flicked up to meet Caleb's gaze, a look of concern on his face for a moment before he smiled and continued with Ben. "You okay?" he mouthed, his voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing and moaning.
Caleb nodded, feeling the sense of excitement continue to build within him. He looked back at Dylan, who was watching him intently, his eyes burning with desire. “Are you ready for the real thing?” Dylan asked, his hands already reaching for the lone condom.
His heart palpitated as he gazed up at Dylan, his mind racing with the implications of what was about to happen. Caleb had been so caught up in the moment, allowing himself to be led by Dylan's skilled hands and lips.
Dylan's eyes locked onto Caleb's face, his expression intense with desire. "You're ready," he said, his voice low and husky. "I can see it."
Caleb nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation mixed with excitement. He had never done anything like this before, but with his wingmate Dylan, he felt a sense of safety and trust.
Dylan pulled down his shorts and underwear, then reached for the condom. He tore open the package carefully and rolled the condom over his 7-inch cock, his eyes never leaving Caleb's face.
Ben and John were still lost in their own world, oblivious to what was happening beside them. They were completely absorbed in each other, their moans and gasps filling the air as they continued their intimate connection.
Dylan's hands closed around the condom, his fingers brushing against Caleb's inner thighs as he positioned himself for entry. He looked down up at Caleb, his eyes burning with lust. His 7-inch cock pressed against Caleb's entrance, and for a moment, it just stayed there, poised on the edge of something new and exciting.
Caleb felt a tremor run through his body as Dylan began to push his fiery rocket inside. It was a slow, gentle motion, but it was still a stretch for him, with the dildo doing little to prepare him. He winced slightly as Dylan’s powerful athletic body pushed into him, but he didn't pull away.
Dylan took a moment to appreciate the feeling of Caleb’s tightness as he pushed in further, watching his buddy’s face contort in a mix of pleasure and pain. "Damn you’re tight Caleb," he muutered, his breathing heavy. "But so fucking hot."
Caleb nodded, his legs shaking slightly as he tried to adjust to the sensation. He reached down to pull the front of the jock away, and started to stroke his cock, the feeling of his hand mingling with the fullness of Dylan inside him. The pressure grew as Dylan pushed in deeper, filling him, and Caleb let out a low moan.
Dylan began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate, giving Caleb time to adjust. Caleb's hand moved in time with Dylan’s thrusts, his grip tightening on his exposed shaft as the pleasure grew. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the occasional squelch of the condom, and everyone’s muffled gasps and moans.
The two of them moved in sync, their bodies connected in a way Caleb had never experienced before. The pressure grew and grew until Dylan reached his peak, his body tensing as he exploded into Caleb with a final, powerful thrust. At the same moment, Caleb felt his orgasm take over, his cock erupting in a hot spray that landed on his chest and stomach.
Ben and John, who had been lost in their passionate exchange, watched the intense moment unfold between the two. They could feel their climaxes approaching as they quickened their pace. John's mouth tightened around Ben's cock, and Ben's hips jerked in response. With a final moan, Ben came, his warmth filling John's mouth as John's cock pulsed against Ben's tongue. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat as they all lay there, panting and exhausted.
Out of nowhere, the speakers from Caleb’s computer boomed. "United 5308, Denver Center, we notice you holding over Colorado Springs. Please advise your intentions."
“Dammit!” Dylan pulled out and ran to the desk to hastily put back on the headset as Caleb, John, and Ben could barely contain their laughter while they recovered on the bed.
"United 5308, Denver Center, you appear to be non-responsive. If you do not reply within the next 2 minutes, we will assume you have stepped away, and your flight may be disconnected from the network."
Dylan took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "Ah, sorry about that. I think we had a... technical issue. United 5308, I'm running through some final checks before arrival. Requesting permission to hold for another five minutes."
“United 5308, Denver Center, Contact Colorado Springs Approach on 124.0 and state your intentions.”
Dylan's face was still flushed with embarrassment as he toggled the headset again. "Denver Departure, United 5308 switching to Colorado Springs Approach on 124.0," he said, trying to sound professional despite the awkward situation.
“Does that count as admission to the Mile High Club?” Ben asked jokingly as he sat up while Dylan switched frequencies.
