Chapter 22 Courage #2
Ned’s fingers clenched in his duvet as he fought the urge to pace the room. Why couldn’t Charlie have just taken the lead? Why had he left Ned in limbo?
Then again, it had been Charlie who propositioned him in an alley in France when they were young, Charlie who’d taken the leap of faith to try again in ’22, each time for their affair to end in heartbreak.
Perhaps Ned wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
???
“Evening, Ned. How was…” Charlie stopped mid-sentence as he opened the door into the bedroom.
Ned rose from the small table between the dresser and the bed, where he had set out a wine bottle and two glasses.
Ned was wearing one of his older suits, a deep purple with a velvet trim, and he had slicked back his hair, lined his eyes, and put blush on his cheeks, and red on his lips.
“I thought we’d enjoy a nightcap together.” Ned pulled out the other chair for Charlie.
Charlie’s expression went from confused to unreadable.
“Wine?” Ned reached for the bottle and prayed his conclusions from their midnight conversation the previous week were accurate.
Once the two glasses were full, Charlie gingerly picked up the glass and raised it towards Ned. “To fighting side by side?”
“Side by side,” Ned answered, unable to fully hide the emotion thick in his throat.
Charlie smiled at the first taste. “One of your good wines.”
“A burgundy, of course.” Ned let the flavours of ripe fruit settle on his tongue, and then gestured to a small plate of sliced cheddar and a loaf from the local baker. “I couldn’t get hold of any French cheeses or breads, but I thought this might do.”
“You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it.” Ned might never have been as good a flirt as Charlie, but he would be damned if he wouldn’t try.
From there, conversation flowed easily between them, but then again it always had.
Chatting about what had happened during their day, the war effort, jumping between anecdotes of their past and books they had read between sips of wine and bits of cheese—the relaxed intimacy of two people who had known each other for a quarter century.
Ned was topping their glasses up when their eyes locked.
A peculiar moment, the intensity with which Charlie’s gaze took in every inch of Ned.
Ned was keenly aware of the blush on his cheeks, the impressions his glasses left on his nose, the ache behind his shoulders from sitting in uncomfortable chairs all day.
Not breaking the stare, Ned lifted up his glass. “I think it’s my turn to toast.”
Charlie nodded, bringing his glass up to meet Ned’s in silent expectation.
“I think it’s fair to say we have been down this path before. Yet, we are still the same men we were in ’17, and in ’23 and even ’32. The laws are still the same. If anything, we have more to lose than ever before.”
In the flickering light, Ned could see Charlie’s Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow, clearly working to hide the disappointment on his face. Yet they weren’t going to get anywhere if these truths were unacknowledged.
Before Charlie could interrupt, Ned ploughed on. “And yet, I can’t get The British Empire in Pictures out of my head.”
“What?” Charlie looked stunned enough that he put down his wine glass, head slightly cocked.
“That damn book that you keep on the table on your side of the bed. I’ve no idea how it came into my possession. The massive, heavy thing takes up far too much space. It’s a ridiculous book. And yet, I find that I can’t bear the idea of it no longer being there, on that table, waiting for you.”
It had become Charlie’s little ritual before going to bed, tracing his fingers over the glossy photos and engravings of faraway lands like it was a religious text.
“Having you in my bed, your books on the bedside table, your factory uniform crumpled on the floor, this is my world in its natural order. Despite the danger, being with you is my path. So my toast is simply, to doing right by one another.” A proposal, a promise, an evocation of the past.
Ned let the moment settle, kept his wine glass steady, gave Charlie the time he needed.
The clink of glass against glass, followed by one of Charlie’s broad grins, felt like a heartbeat. “Our path, together.”
Ned couldn’t help but laugh. His body felt like it was coursing with champagne rather than blood.
Charlie leaned over to lift his hand to Ned’s face.
A simple gesture, barely a caress, but instinctively Ned moved his head into Charlie's hand, letting the bristles of his stubble catch against the calluses on Charlie’s fingers.
Ned smelled the lavender soap on Charlie’s hands from washing the dishes.
Charlie’s hand continued to drift, down Ned’s neck, to his shoulder, down his forearm, until his fingers were intertwined with Ned’s, guiding them towards the bed.
Then Charlie was in his lap, facing Ned, arms and legs bracketed on either side.
It was a vulnerable position for Charlie, and on instinct Ned raised his arms to encircle the other man.
Charlie’s gentle kiss to Ned’s neck was so light and quick that Ned almost wondered whether he felt it at all until it happened again, and again.
Ned let out a shuddering breath and stretched his hands to their full width against Charlie’s waist, revelling in Charlie’s muscles from physical labour alongside the bit of softness from good eating.
Their lips almost touching, each knowing what was next, they paused for a breath as Ned’s eyes met Charlie’s, as if they were trying to test if this moment was real.
Charlie grinned again and pulled Ned’s head towards his.
Charlie’s lips were intoxicating and strong, and when Charlie pressed into Ned with a hint of aggression, they both groaned.
Their kisses deepened, expanded, became everything.
Ned’s hands wrapped around Charlie’s back, relishing in the feel of his tightening muscles.
They lingered, exploring, testing, teasing.
Charlie’s hands found all the little sensitive places that delighted Ned, where his neck met his shoulder bones, the spot just under his hairline on the back of his neck that always made him shiver.
Charlie raised one of Ned’s hands to his mouth, lips dancing over his knuckles. “I’ve missed you so much. All these years.”
“Take me.” Ned was breathless with lust that this man could be his again.
For one, two, three beats, Charlie’s ribcage rose and fell against Ned’s, and then he slid off Ned’s lap to stand, discarding his clothes: shirt, belt, trousers, socks, undershirt, and finally his drawers.
Completely unselfconscious of his own body, his own hard cock, Charlie crawled up on the bed, nudging Ned to follow.
He then slowly began to lift Ned’s shirt, kissing the exposed skin, tracing the marks of where his belt had pressed into his stomach during the day.
As Charlie reached for Ned’s trousers, he smiled and said shyly, “I hope I still remember how to do this.”
“You haven’t forgotten a thing,” Ned whispered as Charlie’s fingers wrapped around his cock, and his eyes half closed with pleasure.
Charlie’s hands grew more confident, his rhythm more steady. Ned was somewhere between screaming and begging when Charlie leaned over to the side table and pulled out the Vaseline.
Knowing what was coming, Ned tried to force his body to relax. He had always liked this part, having fingers inside him, pleasure exploding from the inside out. He wanted this. He just needed to convince his body to agree.
“Ned?” Charlie hesitated when Ned’s body tensed.
“Just keep going,” Ned gritted out. Fuck. Why hadn’t he thought to prepare himself a bit?
Charlie frowned, although his fingers still kept their gentle touches, but Ned’s body seemed to be running in an opposite direction. He schooled his face to hide his discomfort, even as the panic began to grow in his chest. This evening had been so close to perfect, but what if they couldn’t fuck?
Charlie pulled up from where he had been kissing Ned’s chest and said, “You know, there is something I’ve fantasised a lot about doing over the years.”
“Lead the way.” Ned instantly relaxed, letting himself follow where Charlie took them.
Charlie leaned down to kiss him tenderly, lying on top of him, grinding their naked bodies together. He slipped easily between Ned’s thighs, and then with a wink that made him look decades younger, he thrust.
“Move with me,” Charlie whispered in his ear, and with an instinct all their own, Ned’s hips rose, matching his lover’s movements. If their past encounters had been petrol on fire, tonight was the slow burn of oak. They lingered, took moments to smile and stare into each other’s eyes.
Every part of Ned’s body was boiled down to the spot where their bodies connected.
Ned felt the movement not just between his legs, but in his back, his hips, to his shoulders.
Maybe less overwhelming than fucking, but with the lack of any discomfort, Ned could focus completely on being with Charlie.
“Jesus, Ned,” Charlie choked out. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
Sweat from Charlie’s brow hit Ned’s own sweat-soaked chest.
Someone moaned. Was that his voice? Or Charlie’s? Or both? Then Charlie was coming and so was he.
Afterward, Ned was dimly aware of Charlie cleaning them up, arranging them in bed so that Ned’s head rested on Charlie’s chest, pulling a cover over their tangled limbs with a gentle kiss on his forehead, and a whispered, “Sleep well, my love.”
With Charlie warm and cosy beside him, Ned followed the pull of sleep, whole and content.