This is an AI generated story based off a real person.
Background and context. This is based off a real person but the names changed. The setting for this ok a submarine in the Royal Navy but it will be a slow burner.
The characters
Logan – confident, straight, tanned, muscular, tattooed, comfortable in his skin; has a girlfriend back home but enjoys being admired.
Eli – gay, thoughtful, observant, quiet at first, but bold when he senses a crack in the surface.
PART 1
The hum of the engine was constant — a low, steady sound that echoed through the corridors of the submarine like a heartbeat. It was day 42 beneath the surface, somewhere deep in the Pacific, and routine had a way of wearing men down to their instincts.
Eli had gotten used to the rhythm of the boat. Wake. Train. Eat. Monitor systems. Sleep. Repeat. But what he hadn’t gotten used to was Logan.
Logan was sunshine trapped below sea level — golden skin, lazy smiles, the kind of swagger that didn’t need to announce itself. He had a girlfriend back home, sure. Everyone knew that. Her photo was pinned above his bunk, surrounded by scribbled jokes and folded notes. But Logan also had… a presence. He knew how good he looked in tight regulation boxers, knew the way conversations stopped just for a second when he entered a room shirtless after a workout.
He caught Eli looking once.
Just once.
And he didn’t get angry. He smirked.
That smirk stayed with Eli long after lights-out.
The air on the sub was dry, recycled, and impersonal — but their conversations weren’t. It started with small talk in the gym, banter in the mess hall, then longer exchanges during night watch. Logan was open in a way that felt teasing sometimes — leaning a little too close when he spoke, throwing a towel at Eli’s face when he was shirtless, stretching in ways that didn’t need to be that revealing.
And always, always the boxers.
Eli couldn’t help noticing the way the fabric clung when Logan walked the corridor after a shower, towel over his shoulder, bare feet padding down metal floors, totally unfazed. There was a bulge, not exaggerated — just honest, relaxed confidence.
“You like staring, don’t you?” Logan said one evening, catching Eli watching from his bunk.
Eli’s mouth went dry. “Sorry.”
Logan shrugged. “You don’t have to be. I’m not stupid, man. I know I give off a vibe.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“And besides,” Logan added, “It’s been six weeks underwater. You think I haven’t thought about it?”
Background and context. This is based off a real person but the names changed. The setting for this ok a submarine in the Royal Navy but it will be a slow burner.
The characters
Logan – confident, straight, tanned, muscular, tattooed, comfortable in his skin; has a girlfriend back home but enjoys being admired.
Eli – gay, thoughtful, observant, quiet at first, but bold when he senses a crack in the surface.
PART 1
The hum of the engine was constant — a low, steady sound that echoed through the corridors of the submarine like a heartbeat. It was day 42 beneath the surface, somewhere deep in the Pacific, and routine had a way of wearing men down to their instincts.
Eli had gotten used to the rhythm of the boat. Wake. Train. Eat. Monitor systems. Sleep. Repeat. But what he hadn’t gotten used to was Logan.
Logan was sunshine trapped below sea level — golden skin, lazy smiles, the kind of swagger that didn’t need to announce itself. He had a girlfriend back home, sure. Everyone knew that. Her photo was pinned above his bunk, surrounded by scribbled jokes and folded notes. But Logan also had… a presence. He knew how good he looked in tight regulation boxers, knew the way conversations stopped just for a second when he entered a room shirtless after a workout.
He caught Eli looking once.
Just once.
And he didn’t get angry. He smirked.
That smirk stayed with Eli long after lights-out.
The air on the sub was dry, recycled, and impersonal — but their conversations weren’t. It started with small talk in the gym, banter in the mess hall, then longer exchanges during night watch. Logan was open in a way that felt teasing sometimes — leaning a little too close when he spoke, throwing a towel at Eli’s face when he was shirtless, stretching in ways that didn’t need to be that revealing.
And always, always the boxers.
Eli couldn’t help noticing the way the fabric clung when Logan walked the corridor after a shower, towel over his shoulder, bare feet padding down metal floors, totally unfazed. There was a bulge, not exaggerated — just honest, relaxed confidence.
“You like staring, don’t you?” Logan said one evening, catching Eli watching from his bunk.
Eli’s mouth went dry. “Sorry.”
Logan shrugged. “You don’t have to be. I’m not stupid, man. I know I give off a vibe.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“And besides,” Logan added, “It’s been six weeks underwater. You think I haven’t thought about it?”
