Page 43 of These Old Lies

Charlie ached with need. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone so badly.”

Fucking was in fact as straightforward as Ned had said. It felt odd at first,to be pushing in where there was so much resistance. Charlie could feel Ned’s back tense and tried to go slowly, but the heat and tightness made his vision swirl. Cautiously, he started to move, fighting the urge to slam his hips. Had anything in his life ever felt this good? The tension started to go out of Ned’s shoulders and he leaned into the thrusts. Ned wasn’t lying that this was what he wanted, but Charlie found that he wanted even more pleasure for Ned.

“Ned!” Was it his voice that sounded this broken? “How do I make you come?” Ned moaned as Charlie thrust again. “Should I touch your cock?” That got a vigorous head nod. Charlie reached around and was surprised to find a cock as hard as his own. “Holy mother of God. Being fucked does this to you?”

Getting Ned to come became Charlie’s singular goal in life. He wanted to make sure Ned not only knew he was alive but relished it. Charlie stroked and thrusted, all the while telling Ned he had never been this hard, it had never felt this way before, asking whether it was good for him. Ned, for his part, seemed beyond anything but saying Charlie's name over and over again, arching against him and leaning into everything Charlie had to give.

Then Ned came. Body arching, burying his face in the bedding to mask his groan, shaking in Charlie’s arms.

Charlie fought the urge to keep going, to slam into Ned until he came himself; he could immediately sense the rawness in Ned’s body. Charlie had become an intrusion. Biting his lip to get control of himself, he slowly withdrew. Charlie let himself lay on top of Ned, just breathing, fighting the urge to finish himself off quickly.

Ned reached towards Charlie, groping in the dark for something, for his cock? “You’re not done.” His voice was hoarse. “You could keep going?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Then he kissed Ned before the other man could protest. For all that he was still hard, Charlie’s own release was unimportant. When they pulled away to breathe, he felt Ned shift and there was a flask in Charlie’s hand.

“Contraband drink on the perfect Lieutenant Pinsent? I’m shocked.”

“Fuck off and drink it.” Ned sounded like his normal posh bastard self again. Charlie smiled to himself as he shifted to lie beside the figure he could feel but not see. He was right chuffed with himself that he had helped bring Ned back.

The gin wasn’t bad. He was going to need it to get out of this dugout soon, though. Charlie had already been missing for too long; his own officers would be looking for him.

Then there was the fact that Charlie and his section were to go over the top before nightfall.

Charlie fought the bile bubbling in his throat, catching him by surprise again for the second time today. He didn’t understand it. The fear of death normally made him want to fuck or fight. Prove he was alive.

But how could he take any joy in survival when the only thing that waited on the other side of the battle was more nightmares and another order to kill? Orders upon orders to slaughter and maim. No one ever had the time for a good clean shot to the head. After all, why waste a bullet when there were so many other ways to kill a man?

Beside Charlie, Ned shifted and gently took Charlie’s free hand, an almost overwhelming intimacy, his elegant long fingers intertwining with Charlie’s own. “We held the line. The Jerrys fared worse than us, they will ease off to lick their wounds. I think it won’t be that bad.”

Charlie couldn’t say anything. He squeezed the hand a bit tighter in the dark.

15 Lady Malcolm’s Servants’ Ball

London, Christmas 1923 / Ned

Ned pushed through the door of the shop, giving the “Villiers and Son” sign only the barest of glances as he walked in. If he smiled at seeing the sign now, it was because of recent memories—the light catching Charlie’s brown curls when he was at the top of a ladder, the low teasing voice he used when he spoke to his mother, the flirty glances he gave Ned when no one else was watching.

The shop was empty of customers this late in the afternoon, but behind the counter Charlie was outnumbered by three small faces with curly brown hair. Charlie held a smaller child on his side as he engaged in a stern conversation with two older ones.

“I don’t want to hear it, Evelyn. Dragons may be attacking your castle, but you still can’t hit your sister.” Not wanting to interrupt the uncle-ing that was clearly taking place, Ned lingered around the displays.

“Good afternoon, Mr Pinsent!” Ned turned at the sound of Kitty’s voice, Charlie’s youngest sister, who could barely be seen behind boxes in her arms. “You’ll be here to speak to Charlie?” Ned had become a common fixture at the shop in the recent months as Charlie’s eccentric friend from the trenches who occasionally bought hats and went for pints at the pub.

“May I help you with that?” Ned leapt to assist with the precarious tower.

“Don’t you dare! My brother will have my hide, letting his friend serve as a shopboy.” Kitty deftly navigated the boxes to the counter and turned her own blue eyes towards him. “It’s been pure madness here today. Dad is downwith a cough, orders back to back, and then three little helpers to boot.”

It was a blunt contrast to Ned’s morning, which had consisted of sleeping in, reading the morning paper, and then deciding on the spur of the moment to pop in to see Charlie. Of course, unlike Ned, Charlie had built a life where he was needed, with all the cumbersome obligations and responsibilities that came with it.

“Charlie is very fortunate to have you around.” At Kitty’s sudden stiffening at the comment, Ned leaned in conspiratorially. “Has Mr Cleeves finally proved his worth, then?”

Ned had frequent updates on the details of Kitty’s courtship with the butcher down the road, whose inadequacies as a man and as a tradesman Charlie had detailed at some length. Ned thought Charlie was being a touch overprotective, but considered it prudent to remain silent.

Kitty shook her head and blushed. “Not yet, but Christmas is coming, and Mum saw him in the jeweller’s last week.”

“He would be a fool not to act,” Ned said sincerely.

“He wouldn’t be the only one.” Kitty raised her eyes heavenward. “Mary, Ellie, and I can’t believe that Betty is waiting so long for Charlie. I know he wants to be respectful that she lost her fiancé in the war and all, but no one is getting any younger.”