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Clive gazed out of the window at the little row of terraced houses. What must it be like, living so close to the railway line? People got used to it, he supposed. The train had been stationary for - he checked his watch again - ten minutes now. Somewhere just outside the station. It was a shame, after the Kent countryside, that he was stuck looking at a row of terraces.
The journey - rattling army trucks from Dover to Canterbury and then a packed train to London - had made him realise how little he knew of Kent. In the clear morning sunlight it was remarkably beautiful. He’d have liked another day, as well, to spend some time in Canterbury. Theo would like the cathedral. He liked cathedrals. Well, now he knew how near to London it was - yes. They must come, one day soon. When he knew what his plans were. What anybody’s plans were.
He’d been lucky to get a seat. The train was jam-packed. Privileges of rank, he supposed. The sheer numbers of men flooding that little town. He’d been lucky to get a bunk for the night too. The whole town giving up its beds and floors. Church full of soldiers dossing down. Quite a sight. Men who’d stood shoulder deep in water for hours, waiting to get on a boat. Clive’s heart swelled. All those little boats. What a job it had been.
The train jolted, creakily, started moving slowly. Finally! He wasn’t tired, not in the slightest, but it would be good to get home. There would be a scrummage for cabs. Not for the men; they were off to barracks. Ah well. Final leg of the journey. The chatter and bustle picked up; the men all aware that they were nearly at the station. It would be another scramble. Well, he was good in a scramble. And he had a Sergeant to carry his kitbag. A quiet, obedient chap; quite the opposite of Murdoch.
“Ready when you are, General.” That was the Sergeant, at the carriage door. Thompson? Tompkins? Thompson, he was sure. Thank heaven for stripes.
“On you go then, Sergeant,” he replied, getting stiffly to his feet. “I’ll catch up with you on the platform.” He looked at the mess of discarded newspapers, the throng of elbows and sticks and overcoats. No sense in barging through. He was in no hurry. A slow, shuffling crowd and then finally out onto the platform. That was better! He stretched his back out; tilted his head to gaze for a moment at the great canopy. What a feat of engineering! Almost like a cathedral, in its own way. He must tell Theo that. He smiled to himself. Now, where was Thompson? So many bodies, milling around. Ah, there he was.
“Well then, man, let’s see if we can find a cab.”
“Yes sir. After you, General.”
Yes, thought Clive, striding off. Not at all like Murdoch. Lord! Look at the swathes of khaki ahead. He would be a long time getting a cab.
“Clive! Clive!”
Was it really? Lord, yes, Theo! Struggling up from a bench, his hand raised to wave. Angela, helping him to his feet. His heart leapt at the sight. They must have come to meet him. Oh! Oh, it was ridiculous to be so moved by it. But what a relief it was, too. They were making their way over now, through the swarm of bodies. Christ, but Theo looked poorly.
“Clive!” Theo said, reaching him and breaking out into a grin. “You are back!” He grasped Clive’s arm firmly, shook it a little. Yes.
“Yes, I’m back!” Clive could not help but smile at him, clap a hand to his arm. “But, Theo. Are you alright?”
Theo laughed, shook his head. God, he looked tired. Clive hoped that was all it was.
“How like you, Clive, to ask such a thing. Yes, I am alright. You are the one who has been through it, eh?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You know me.” He realised belatedly that he was still holding Theo’s arm, ignoring Angela.
“Hello, Angela. Good of you to come. Didn’t expect it, you know,” he said, bluffly.
“Oh.” She blushed a little. “That’s alright, sir. Happy to do it.”
“I bullied her into it, Clive,” said Theo, smiling at her. “But she is too polite to say so. But, enough, hey? Come along. Let us get you home, yes? Mrs Crocker is desperate to give you breakfast.”
“Oh, I could eat a horse!” Clive said, hunger suddenly rolling through him.
Theo patted his arm and then let go, turning to follow the stream of men tramping towards the exits. Leaning heavily on his stick. Clive wanted to take his arm, but it would not do, not in front of the men. They made their way steadily, Angela chatting politely to Thompson behind them.
“Just throw my bag in the boot, would you, Sergeant?” Clive called, opening the door for Theo, ignoring Theo’s dirty look. Best get him off that leg. He shut the door and walked around the back of the car where Angela was closing the boot.
“Is he alright, Angela? He’s not ill? He looks terrible.” All this in a low voice so Theo would not hear. Angela glanced through the back window, sketching a salute to Thompson as he left.
“He’s been dreadfully worried about you, sir,” she whispered. “We all have. But - you won’t tell him I said anything, will you?”
“Alright, alright. Well, shall we get going then?” he continued in a louder voice, climbing into the car and sitting down close to Theo.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded smartly and got behind the wheel. Clive settled back, relaxing. Theo turned to look at him, moving nearer until they were pressed close; thighs together. God, what a glorious thing it was, this ease, this nearness. Theo was fussing at him, pulling his greatcoat round him more securely, smoothing the lapels.
“Theo - ” he protested, but only half-heartedly. It really was rather nice to be fussed over. To have Theo’s hands on him.
“Hush, Clive,” Theo replied quietly; glancing towards Angela, looking back to Clive. He hooked an arm through Clive’s, smoothed his coat again.
“I’m fine, Theo. Honestly.”
“I know. I know. Just. Let me do this, ja?” He pressed closer, smoothed a hand over Clive’s chest as if to straighten his coat. Leaned nearer until his lips were at Clive’s ear, his breath hot on Clive’s neck. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured, low.
Christ. A flash of memory. No, Clive thought with a jolt of arousal. Not memory, but his own - imagination. He flushed, thinking of it. Tensed under Theo’s hand.
“Clive?” Theo murmured. Clive could not speak for a moment. “Clive, what?” Theo asked. Clive could feel his face heating, knew he must be blushing. He looked out of the window, away from Theo’s gaze. Theo pressed impossibly closer, his thigh a firm pressure against Clive’s. Another jolt of arousal. That night, in the cab. Christ.
“Clive - ” his voice so low now, breath hot at Clive’s ear, “ - you know, you may say anything to me.” A pause, then him drawing away. Clive looked back at him, at his handsome, dear face. Shot a glance to Angela, but she was concentrating on the road. Theo saw his glance, frowned a little.
“I can see it in your face, mein Freund. Something, eh?” he said, teasing almost. Squeezing Clive’s arm reassuringly.
“You remember - ” Clive stopped, cleared his throat. Started again, voice low. “Remember in ’19, when we fetched you from Victoria?”
“Remember? Yes of course.” He smiled softly. “I am hardly likely to forget it, eh?” he said, placing a hand gently over Clive’s thudding heart. Oh! Another jolt. Yes. Mein Herz. Oh, he felt almost ashamed of thinking of less noble things.
“Yes - ” he softened for a moment, with Theo’s hand warm on his chest. “Yes, that.” He cleared his throat again. “And then - ” he said, very softly, “when we - when we got - carried away - ” he broke off, glanced at Theo again. But, oh, Theo was grinning at the memory.
“That is one way to say it, Clive, yes. ‘Carried away’.”
“I thought about it. Later. That night, I mean. I - I often - thought about it.”
“Yes?” Theo said warmly, a knowing smile on his face. Oh, yes, he understands me, thought Clive, blushing again. He always understands me.
“I thought - I thought about what would have happened. If the journey had been longer. If - if the cab hadn’t stopped,” he managed in a whisper. Theo’s hand tightened on his arm.
“Gott, Clive. Had the cab not stopped - ” he pressed his lips to Clive’s ear to whisper fiercely “ - then we would not have stopped.”
“Yes. Yes.”Clive agreed.
“Oh - ” Theo breathed out, drew back to look at Clive’s face, smiled, understanding. “Oh, yes. You like that idea, yes?” Clive looked down, embarrassed. I feel like a schoolgirl, he thought. He glanced again at Angela, but she was still unaware, thank god.
“So, mein Freund,” Theo continued, “what exactly did you like, eh?” He pressed close again, whispering, “What did you want to do to me?” Christ, that voice, hot in his ear. He could not think. Managed, barely, to shake his head.
“Oh.” Theo drew away again a little, studying Clive’s face; thinking. “You wanted me to - ” Clive felt as though he were under a microscope. He could not say it aloud. “Oh!” Theo exclaimed breathily. Smiled, another knowing smile. “Was that it? What I said, just now? Let me take care of you?"
Clive nodded, heart thumping. How could he think it, want it, and yet be too cowardly to speak it? And, was it wrong, turning Theo’s honest concern into something baser? He looked down, ashamed.
“Here,” Theo said, gloved fingers gentle under his chin, tilting his face up. Smiling. “It is alright. There are many ways, yes? Many ways to take care. They all - ” he placed his hand again on Clive’s chest, “ - they all come from the heart, you know?”
Oh. Yes. Of course he knew that. He nodded firmly, still unable to speak. Theo smiled, settled back against the seat again, his arm still through Clive’s. Clive felt - reprieved? Disappointed. Both. How he wanted to say it aloud. But it was hard. He glanced at Theo, wondering.
“I am not giving up, Clive. I want to know. What you - ” he smirked “ - thought about, ja? But,” he gestured to the window, “later, yes? We are almost home.”
Clive looked outside, startled. God, he’d not noticed. Theo had overwhelmed him.
“I think - if we talk any more now - ” Theo smirked again “ - then it will be, ah, difficult for both of us, yes?” He quirked an eyebrow. Oh! Theo, just as affected as himself.
“Yes,” Clive managed, swallowing. Then, more vigorously, “Yes. Indeed.” He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. “Yes, lord, I’m ready for some breakfast, old thing. You? Have you eaten this morning?” he asked, in a normal voice.
“Nein. Some coffee, that is all. We did not know how long the wait would be. I confess I am a little hungry now.”
“Breakfast, then.” Clive said. “How about you, Angela? Have you eaten?”
“Sorry, sir? Oh! Oh, I’m alright sir, honestly,” she replied, drawing up outside the house.
“Nonsense, Angela,” said Theo, firmly. “It is my fault that you have missed your breakfast. I am sure - Clive, yes? - that Mrs Crocker will have enough for all of us.”
“Definitely,” Clive said, opening the door. “That’s an order, Angela.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, opening the boot and hauling his kitbag out. He reached out to take it but she was already heading for the door. Theo was beside him, still leaning heavily on his stick. He’d forgotten for those dizzying minutes in the car how tired Theo had looked, how unwell. Food would help, and then some rest. Oh! Yes. He took Theo’s arm, and Murdoch was already at the door, fussing as usual.
“Alright, Murdoch. Miss Cannon’s coming in for breakfast too. Can you handle that?”
“Aye, sir. Already thought of. I’ll bring it through presently.”
“Thank you, Murdoch,” Theo said, taking his overcoat off and hanging it up. “Come along, Clive,” he said, helping him off with his greatcoat. “Angela - ” he continued, gesturing for her to go first. Always the gentleman. Pulling out her chair for her, despite his leg. She blushed prettily. Not used to it, eh? That boyfriend of hers - that was the modern man. No manners. Clive smiled to see how at home Theo was, ordering them all around as if he owned the place. Barbara had been the same, in her own quiet way.
Murdoch came through, bearing platters. Clive tucked in enthusiastically, hoping that Theo and Angela would not stand on ceremony. Theo was pouring tea for Angela, his hand resting on the tablecloth, close to Clive’s. Clive fancied he could feel the heat from it. Would like nothing better than to cover it with his own. Not long now, though. He looked at Theo, pouring his tea for him, smiling, that small, fond smile that Clive always fancied was just for him. All over the country, soldiers were eating their late breakfast. It was a simple, commonplace thing. But it was these ordinary, commonplace moments that made his heart sing almost more than anything else. To have someone, to have Theo not just in his bed, but at his table. At the station. Sitting in front of his fire. To know that Theo would be there in all these little ordinary ways. He ducked his head, overcome for a moment, and resumed his attack on his sausages. Theo patted him casually on the arm and continued his chat with Angela. Clive was glad for once of Theo’s uncanny ability to read his heart in his face.
Lord, he did feel better for some food and a decent cup of tea. He sat back, sipping slowly at his second cup, half listening to Theo and Angela talking about - pictures? Ah, the “cinema”, as Theo called it. Theo was a bit of a film buff. He’d been pleased when the picture houses had opened again. Clive dug out his cigarettes, lit two and passed one to Theo automatically before realising what he’d done. Theo quirked an eyebrow at him but took it wordlessly, casually, and Angela never noticed his slip. Clive sat back again, smoking, listening to their voices, drifting. They were talking about some actor fellow they liked, a new film, something Clive knew nothing of, but it was soothing, listening to them. He felt at ease with the world. Of course, Murdoch would choose that precise moment to barge in.
“Dammit, man, can’t a fellow eat his breakfast in peace?” Clive bellowed.
“Seems to me, sir, that breakfast finished a while ago,” Murdoch replied, unrepentant.
“You are right, Murdoch,” Theo interrupted smoothly, just as Clive was about to retort. “We are idling, only, now. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” Angela said, rising to her feet hastily. “What - ” she continued, all business now, “ - what orders for today, sir?”
“None, today. Back to HQ in the morning, though. Oh-eight-hundred hours, sharp, got that?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be off then. Thank you for breakfast.”
“That’s alright, Angela.”
“Hope you get some rest, sir,” she said, daringly. Clive nodded, dismissing her concern, but caught her glance towards Theo as she left the room. Concerned for him too. A good girl, that.
“Do you not have to report, today, Clive?” Theo asked, almost too casually.
“No, not 'til tomorrow. Bit of luck, eh?” He looked at Theo more seriously for a moment. “You look like you need rest more than I do, old thing,” he said, fondly.
“Ach, I am fine, Clive. I told you. Though - ” he looked up, “ - perhaps you are right - ” glancing sideways at Murdoch, clearing their plates, “ - a little rest, after that breakfast, would be welcome.”
“See, I told you so.”
“It sounds terrible decadent, Clive,” Theo grinned. “Especially from a soldier.”
“Nonsense. Get your rest while you can, isn’t that right, Murdoch?”
“Aye sir. Stood us in good stead in the last war, did it not?”
“There you go,” Clive said, triumphant.
“As you wish, Clive. You are the one in charge, here.” Theo smirked. Oh, god. The cad, he knew exactly what he was doing. Clive felt his face go hot.
“Alright, Murdoch,” he blustered, “not to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency, got it?”
“Aye sir,” Murdoch replied calmly as he shouldered his way through the door. Clive heaved out a sigh, turning to Theo.
“Oh, Clive! Your face! Sorry!” Theo was laughing.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Nein. I was just making sure that - that we would not be interrupted. Ja?”
“Hmm,” grumbled Clive, not really angry. Theo leaned towards him then, covering Clive’s hand with his own.
“It is good to see you, mein Freund,” Theo said, more quietly.
“Yes, my boy,” Clive replied, softening, “it’s good to see you too.” He studied Theo’s face for a moment. He looked better for his breakfast, at least. More colour. Oh, what quiet glory, to be safe in his home, and Theo safe too, and the place to themselves.
“Clive - ” Theo began, looking not at his face but at their clasped hands, “ - Clive, you know - ” he faltered, uncharacteristically hesitant. Clive thought he did know.
“It’s alright. I’m here now,” he said, almost brusquely. They neither of them were prone to sentimental outbursts. Theo looked up at him from under his eyelashes.
“Ja, this I can see, Clive,” he smiled, recovering his equanimity. He turned Clive’s hand in his, and brought it up to his face; pressed a kiss to the palm. Clive blushed unexpectedly. Theo’s smile was almost innocent, but his eyes were dark, and he repeated the action. The soft press of his lips, the tickle of his moustache - they felt startlingly intimate on Clive’s palm. He had been away too long! He stood abruptly, grasping Theo’s arm, hauling him to his feet, bad leg forgotten. Theo grinned; the dark intimate smile that was Clive’s alone. It was too much, and not enough. Clive closed the small distance between them and kissed Theo; oh, so familiar, and new every time. Christ, this was everything; Theo’s arms strong around him, the thump of his dear heart, the warm familiar smell of him. He tightened his arms around him, unwilling to let go. Theo did the same, as if to keep Clive from ever leaving again. Clive wished - treasonously - that it could be so.
Theo broke the kiss, burying his face in Clive’s neck. He was trembling slightly. Reaction, thought Clive. He really did need a rest. He’d been running on nerves, Clive could tell. He was the same. They always were. Would it ever get easier? He stroked Theo’s back, not needing to speak; feeling the smooth stretch of his shoulderblades, the warm curve of his spine. The smell of him, the solid strength. Christ, how lucky he was, to have this. He must keep him safe, always. Theo’s breath was hot on his neck, but steadier now, as he recovered himself. Clive hugged him close, fierce; held him tight for a moment and then drew back, still holding him, to look in his face. Yes, he looked weary. A nap would be just the ticket. Clive needed to be canny here. You never could tell Theo a thing face on.
“I must confess, I could do with a proper sit down,” he said, fussing with Theo’s lapel, brushing a toast crumb away, “and a quick look at the paper, eh? What d’ye say?”
“If you wish, Clive, yes of course,” Theo replied, pushing his hand away gently and straightening his clothes for himself. “We could sit on the patio, hmm? It is a fine day, and it catches the sun nicely at this time of the day. At least for another hour or so.”
“Splendid idea,” Clive said, a little too effusively. He smiled to himself as Theo let go of his arms and made his steady way to the door. Whose house was this? A warmth, thinking of it. He could hear Theo in the hallway, asking Murdoch for the paper. He looked around, picked up a cigarette case, and followed him out and into the lounge. Murdoch was fussing, opening the french windows.
“Alright, Murdoch, don’t you have someone else to be bothering? We can manage.”
“Aye, sir, if you say so,” Murdoch replied, ignoring him and pushing the windows wide, before finally scuttling out, closing the door behind him. Theo was laughing, newspaper tucked under his arm, dragging the chairs round to face the sun. Damn Murdoch! Had Clive not been distracted by him, he could have stopped Theo wearing himself out. Too late. Still, he was sitting down now, settling into the cushions, stretching his bad leg out with a small sigh.
“Do you want the paper, Clive?” Theo asked, squinting up in the sunlight.
“You have it for now. I think, actually, I’ll just go and wash my face. Travelling, you know.”
“Alright, then,” Theo replied easily, unfolding the paper and turning his attention to it.
Clive smiled to himself again as he made his way back through the house. Lord and master in his own home no more! Well, he would happily cede control to Theo. Oh! What an image - Theo, in charge! Another flash of his - thoughts. Theo in the cab. Dear lord. He switched on the light in the downstairs lavatory, blinking at his reflection in the mirror, the memories gone, just his own tired face looking back at him. Yes, he was a bit grimy. Bit of luxury, having this here, not having to bother with going upstairs. Barbara’s idea, of course. Clever girl. He’d grumbled at the time, about the disruption. Hadn’t seen the point. He relieved himself quickly, turning back to the sink to wash his hands. Oh, decent soap for once. And hot water. Such small things, but oh, the joy. Like Theo, sitting happily reading the paper in the sun. Small moments. He splashed water on his face, his neck, towelled himself vigorously; felt brighter. That would do for now.
Theo was still immersed in the paper when he returned. Clive had half-expected to find him asleep. He looked up as Clive thumped down into the chair, his face open, tired, but lovely in the bright sunlight.
“Reading about the Evacuation, eh?” Clive asked, lighting two cigarettes and passing one over.
“Yes, there are photographs today. Quite a remarkable sight, Clive.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful.
“Yes, it really was,” Clive replied, heart swelling again at the thought of it.
“Tell me - ” Theo began, and then stopped, glancing at Clive through his cigarette smoke.
“Hmm? What d’you want to know?” Clive asked, reaching across and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. Theo glanced down at it, and then back to Clive’s face. He smiled, losing his serious look, covered Clive’s hand with his own, the paper forgotten on his lap.
“Oh, I just wanted to know. Your side of it. The papers - ” he gestured gracefully, oh, the lovely turn of his wrist, “the papers never tell you everything. I know this only too well. Yes - ” he said, raising a hand to Clive’s blustering protest, “yes Clive, even in England.” He smiled, to take the sting out of it.
“Well,” Clive grumbled, “it’s the war.”
“Of course, Clive,” Theo said. Hmm. He was being rather too smooth. Still, let him have his way, if it made him feel better. He only wanted Theo to feel better.
“So,” Theo continued, his thumb stroking Clive’s hand, oh, the lovely feel of it, “tell me, mein Freund, of your - adventure, eh? I - ” he paused, his hand tightening on Clive’s for a moment, “ - I confess, I have been thinking all kinds of things.”
“Oh,” Clive said, squeezing his arm reassuringly, “you know, I had it easy, old thing.” He settled back more comfortably, stubbing his cigarette out, but kept his hand still on Theo’s arm, wanting to always be touching him, wanting always to have Theo’s hand warm and sure on his. Theo was turned towards him, all relaxed and lovely; his legs stretched out and his hair a little ruffled where it was pressed into the cushions. And all his attention fixed on Clive, and the sun bright on his face.
“Yes,” said Clive, recovering himself, thinking, what were we talking about? “Oh - yes, I had a bit of luck. Got on a destroyer almost immediately.”
“So, mein Freund, you were not one of these men, in the little boats, that I have been reading about?” Theo said, a smile in his voice, but concern there, too. How easy it was to read him, sometimes.
“No, no. Not me. Like I say, lucky. Some chaps, well - it was a scramble, you know. And the waiting! Scores of them, waiting patiently in the water, and the Luftwaffe doing their worst overhead.” He shook his head, awed at the memory of it.
“But you were safe, eh?”
“I didn’t choose it, Theo, it just fell that way.”
“Oh, Clive, I did not mean - ”
“I know, old man.” Clive nodded brusquely. He’d had pride enough, in his men, in all the men. He’d have taken whatever he had to. You just got on and did it. Theo understood that, more than most.
“So,” Theo prompted, more quietly, “and what then?”
“Oh, well, you know, it’s only a short hop across the channel. And the RAF did a splendid job, holding Jerry off. All the boats, all shapes and sizes - it should have looked a mess, but somehow - ” he paused, closing his eyes to picture the scene again. It would be etched on his memory all his life. “Yes, somehow, it looked quite impressive. And then we got back to Dover, and all that.”
“Mmm,” Theo murmured, soft. Clive looked across at him, and he had his eyes closed, breathing steadily. “Go on, Clive,” he said.
“Well,” said Clive, more quietly, “that was a sight too. Thousands of soldiers, khaki everywhere. All the town pitching in. I got a decent bunk, though, and a meal. And a wash and brush up. And - ” he laughed softly, “ - one of the worst cups of tea of my life.”
Theo made no comment, and Clive looked across to see that he had fallen asleep, his hand heavy on Clive’s still, his face smoothed out and relaxed. Oh, yes. What a lovely sight. Clive was relieved to see it. A sleep would do him the world of good. He reached over, careful not to disturb Theo’s hand on his, and gently drew the paper from his lap. He would just have a quick look at the headlines. Oh, but it was tricky, with one hand, and he didn’t want to let go of Theo’s arm. He dropped the paper to the floor, settled back comfortably. He would just close his eyes for a moment, with the lovely feel of the sun warm on his face. Theo was right, it was a perfect spot. He’d not thought of it for an age, but sitting out here, with Theo, with the familiar feel of his hand, and the faint breeze, peaceful, as if they weren’t in the city at all, well, it was something, alright.
* * * * * * *
Clive could smell cigarette smoke, and was confused for a moment. Had he left his lit, and not stubbed it out? He cracked an eye open, to see Theo smoking, and gazing at him fondly through the cigarette smoke.
“You - ” he cleared his throat, his mouth was a little dry. Tried again. “I thought you were asleep, old thing,” he said.
“I was,” Theo replied, laughing. “And so were you.”
“Nonsense. It’s only - ” Clive looked at his watch. What?
“Yes, mein Freund. Two hours, or so.” He was smiling. “Oh, it is alright. I have only been awake for ten minutes myself.”
“Well,” Clive said, a little befuddled. He must have been more tired than he realised. Still, it had done Theo good. He’d lost that awful grey look.
“Would you like some tea?” Theo asked, gesturing to the little table.
“Oh. Yes. Rather.” That would do the job. “You didn’t - ?”
“What, and put Murdoch out? I would not dream of it. I am the messenger, only. I thought you would want some when you woke.”
“Thanks, old thing,” Clive said, terribly warmed by it. Murdoch was always on hand, of course. But - to have Theo thinking of him. Taking care of him. Oh! Oh. He flushed, thinking back to the cab. Theo was pouring the tea, but nothing escaped him.
“What are you thinking, Clive?” he asked, a tease in his voice as he passed the cup across.
“Nothing,” Clive muttered, embarrassed.
“Come now, Clive,” Theo said, smiling, “I said before, did I not? You may tell me anything. I meant it - ” he continued, more seriously.
“Yes, I know,” Clive said, concentrating on his tea, avoiding Theo’s gaze.
“Well, then,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down Clive’s arm, resting it in the crook of his elbow, “as I said, before. There are many ways, Clive, to take care, and they all come from the heart. If you would let me - ” he paused, and Clive looked up at him, his fond eyes, his heated gaze, and felt a thrill at it; “ - I would do this for you. Take care of you, however you wished.”
God. God, what had he done, to deserve this man? His teacup rattled in its saucer as he put it down, hurriedly; he grasped Theo’s hand, pulled him closer. Damn these chairs! He pushed himself to his feet, pulled Theo up with him, close, close, holding him tight, pressed chest to belly to thigh. Theo laughed, low, delighted, and kissed him, fiercely, and oh god, this was worth the world, coming home to this. Clive lost himself for a moment, in the familiar warmth of Theo’s mouth, in the feel of his arms around him, the smell of him; cigarettes and sweat and hair oil; all familiar, all lovely. Theo broke the kiss gently, pressed soft kisses across Clive’s lips, his cheek, dragging a little on the stubble on his jaw; his breath hot on Clive’s ear, as it had been in the car, earlier. His wicked voice, drawing Clive out.
“Ich denke - ” Theo breathed, a little unsteady, “ - I think, Clive, that it is time for us to - ” he paused, and Clive could feel his cheek curve in a smile, “ - go somewhere a little more private, ja?” he finished, voice low and thrilling. Clive clutched at him reflexively. Theo’s laugh was dark and low in his ear. He drew back to look Clive in the face, smiling.
“Ja - ” breathed Clive, suddenly weak. “I’m - ” he looked into Theo’s dark eyes, and thought, yes, I can say anything, “ - I’m in your hands, Theo,” he said, voice gone low and husky. Theo moved then, taking Clive’s face between his hands and kissing him, soft and brief.
“Kommen, Clive,” he said, quick and low, taking Clive’s arm in a firm grip and almost dragging him through the lounge and into the hall. Clive let himself be pulled along, let Theo lean his weight on him as they climbed the stairs. Let Theo push the bedroom door open and steer him to stand in front of the chair by the wardrobe. Waited, heart thumping, as Theo locked the door, as he came back across to take Clive’s arms in a steady grip. There was a faint flush high on his cheekbones, all signs of tiredness long gone.
“Now, Clive - ” he said quietly, his voice steady and warm, even as his eyes darkened “ - you must tell me, hmm?” He smoothed his hands slowly down Clive’s arms, stroked his fingertips lightly over Clive’s palms, the touch electric. Dropped Clive’s hands and smoothed down his shirtfront, much as he had in the car. Clive felt almost hot with the sensation of it. Christ. Theo stepped closer, reached up calmly to undo Clive’s tie. “Tell me, lieber Freund,” he said, drawing the tie slowly from Clive’s throat, “what it was you were thinking of, all that time ago.” He placed the tie neatly onto the armchair, and began to steadily unbutton Clive’s shirt. Clive felt the flush heating his neck, even as Theo bared it. The scratch of the khaki not enough to distract from the touch of Theo’s precise fingers, the thrill of his voice. He swallowed, still unable to speak his thoughts aloud. Unable, no, unwilling to move; hoping Theo’s almost uncanny instinct would hold. Theo paused, fingertips pressed lightly to Clive’s shirtfront, the hard ridge of his breastbone. He looked at Clive’s face, as he had in the car, studying him; thinking. Clive dropped his eyes, but remained still.
“Wait,” Theo said, and then his touch was gone, and his heat, and Clive looked up to see he had moved away. He felt horribly disappointed, even though it was his own failing. But then he saw that Theo was pulling the heavy curtains almost closed, until the room was no longer bright but close and warm and dim. Like the cab, Clive thought, hope resurfacing. Theo came back, placing his fingertips back on Clive’s chest; the heat and scent of him suddenly heady. Clive sighed, relieved, and lifted his eyes to Theo’s face. His relief must be written all over him, because Theo looked steadily at him, and then nodded briefly, satisfied.
“So - ” Theo continued, almost casually, as he returned to Clive’s buttons, “ - there we were, just the two of us, ja?” he murmured, “ - and you in your fine evening dress, looking very handsome - ” he continued, as his hands reached the last button above Clive’s waistband, “ - and me, with my uniform, ja?” He looked up, pleased, at Clive’s hitch of breath. “My uniform, eh, Clive?” he asked, “is that what you liked?”
“Yes,” Clive breathed out, almost too quiet to hear.
“Yes?” Theo asked calmly, reaching up to gently slip Clive’s braces from his shoulders. The fleeting touch of his hands warm through Clive’s shirt. Like those days in the hospital.
“I always did, Theo,” Clive murmured, bolder. “How - how fine you looked, in Berlin.” Clive closed his eyes for a moment, thrown back, as if he were that Clive, full of longing. “Climbing through my window. How you looked, in that dark blue.” He opened his eyes at the touch of Theo’s hand on his arm, lifting his hand to undo his cuff. Theo's thumb stroking lightly over the fine skin of Clive’s wrist, raising goosebumps.
“And the grey one, also?” Theo asked softly, taking up Clive’s other hand. His touch light, cradling Clive’s palm. Almost unbearable. Clive closed his eyes again, thought back to the cab.
“Yes,” he murmured, feeling once again the scratch of wool, the smooth cool touch of leather. He flushed. Theo’ fingertips lingering on his wrist, warm and shivery; but the memory, no the dream, of his gloves, cool on Clive’s bare chest. “I didn’t know - ” he breathed out, face hot.
“What did you not know, mein Freund?” Theo asked, easily. His touch gone now from Clive’s wrist. Clive felt bereft, untethered, and then Theo’s hand was firm and warm on his side, smoothing slowly down, and his fingers were light under Clive’s chin, tilting his head up gently. Clive opened his eyes and thought, I cannot look at him and say it, but Theo simply nodded to the chair. “Sit, Clive.” Clive sat, unthinking. Theo knelt down to undo his shoelaces. Clive sat forward, about to protest but Theo silenced him with a look.
“Clive,” he said, low and dark, “let me take care of you.” Clive sat back, hot all over. Closed his eyes again. Christ, even the touch of Theo’s hand on his ankle was almost too much.
“So, tell me, mein Lieber,” Theo’s voice was soft, his hands firm, “what you did not know, until that night?”
“I didn’t know I wanted that,” Clive breathed out, shivering at the feel of Theo’s hand, firm and warm, smoothing gently up his calf.
“Go on,” Theo murmured. His hands quick and sure and hot on Clive’s cool skin. Christ, the feel of it. “Tell me what you were - thinking of, when you were alone that night.”
Clive tilted his head back, breathing unsteadily. He opened his eyes, gazed unseeingly at the dimness of the ceiling. Felt Theo’s palms smoothing up the outside of his legs from ankle to knee, warm and sure. Back down again. Almost soothing, were it not setting him alight. Theo’s steady breathing. His own thumping heartbeat. Theo pushing his legs gently wider, smoothing hands up the inside now. Christ.
“I was thinking - ” he began unsteadily, almost in a whisper, “ - thinking about you, in your uniform.” He breathed out. Theo’s hands, warm on his calves, stroking up to his knees and down again. Breathing quietly. He closed his eyes again, picturing it. Theo, in that grey uniform. “About how we always had too many clothes on - ” he huffed out a small laugh, “ - how if the cab hadn’t stopped, we would have done something about that.”
“Yes, mein Freund. So we would,” Theo said, low. “Tell me, Clive, what you wanted me to do.” And Christ, Theo’s sure warm hands, smoothing slowly up his parted thighs. Christ. This was going to kill him. Theo’s firm hands, the scratch of wool. He couldn’t speak for a moment, couldn’t even concentrate on the images in his mind. Could only feel Theo’s hands, and his own thumping heart. Felt his cock hardening, even without Theo touching him. Christ. Theo knew what he was doing.
“Tell me, Clive,” Theo said again, his voice low and thrilling, his hands slow, inexorable, “what you would have me do. What you thought about, when you were touching yourself,” and oh god, finally palming Clive’s cock through his trousers. Clive shuddered, gripping the arms of the chair. And then Theo’s hands were gone from him, leaving him shaking, unfocused. He opened his eyes after a moment, looked down at Theo. Theo covered Clive’s hands with his own, stroking gently, until he loosened his grip. Theo was not looking at Clive’s face, but at his hands. Turning them over to place them palms upward on the chair arms. Then stroking his fingertips so lightly over Clive’s palms. Christ. It was almost worse than him touching his cock. Clive shivered, and Theo looked up at him, smiling. Oh, he knew what he was doing. Christ, he knew how to take his time. Like he had in Clive’s thoughts of that night. Yes.
“I thought about - ” Clive began, struggling to control his voice, “ - I thought about you, in your uniform.”
“Yes?” Theo prompted, softly.
“After we had started - ” Clive looked at him, willing him to understand.
“Ja, I know,” Theo smiled, still stroking Clive’s hands. Christ, would he stop? Clive did not want him to stop.
“ - and your hair - was all - ” Clive leaned forward, wanting to lift a hand to push it through Theo’s hair, to mess it up. Theo stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist. Clive stuttered a moment, realising suddenly that he had not touched Theo. Not since coming upstairs. God. Was this what he wanted too? He couldn’t tell. He could only tell what felt right. Theo smiled at him, loosening his grasp. Stroked his wrist. That. Theo’s hands on him. That was what felt right.
“ - your hair - ” Clive repeated, breathless, nodding at Theo’s head. “All awry.”
“Ja,” Theo said, and took his hands from Clive’s. “Like this?” he asked, and scrubbed a hand through it, until it fell over his forehead.
“God, yes,” Clive said, suddenly fierce. What was it about Theo that made him want to disarray him? Theo grinned, and it made him look rakish, with his hair over his eyes.
“Now,” he said, gripping the chair to push himself to his feet, “come, Clive, you must stand.” He held out his hands to Clive, and pulled him steadily to his feet. Clive swayed for a moment, his legs still shaky, the wool of his trousers dragging over his cock. Christ, he wanted them off. Wanted to be naked. Yes. How easy it was, suddenly. Theo let go of his hands, and instinct made Clive stand still, even as he wanted to reach out and touch Theo. Theo nodded briskly, his hair falling over his eye, and he put his hands on Clive’s shoulders, almost as if he were calming him.
“So,” he said, quiet again, stroking along Clive’s shoulders, his hands sure and warm. “You are thinking of me, in my uniform.” Smoothing his hands slowly down Clive’s shirt front. “With my hair all - awry.” His hands firm on Clive’s belly. “And what next, eh, mein Freund?” he asked, leaning in close for a moment, murmuring into Clive’s ear as he slowly undid the button on his trousers. “Tell me what I do next?”
“You - ” Clive began, breathless again, as Theo steadily unbuttoned him, “ - you did this. You undressed me.” He shuddered as the back of Theo’s hands brushed his cock, as his fingers continued their precise work, “You undressed me, slowly, like this, took me out of all of my clothes.”
“Good,” Theo said, drawing Clive’s shirttails out of his trousers, and moving round to stand behind him. Clive tilted his head back, trying to clear his thoughts. Theo was a warm presence at his back, breathing hot onto his neck, standing close but not touching. Clive felt his breath on his ear, and swallowed.
“You are doing so very well, mein Freund,” Theo murmured into his ear, almost too low to be heard. Clive shivered again, his arms heavy as Theo reached around and drew his shirt off him. Felt Theo’s hands, warm and sure, on the bare skin of his back, smoothing down from shoulder blade to waist. Clive dropped his head, as if it were too heavy to keep up.
“And then, Clive, after I have undressed you, like this?” Theo breathed into his ear, smoothing his hands round Clive’s sides, just above the loosened waist of his trousers. “Do I take my uniform off too?” he murmured, and Clive could almost hear the tease in his voice, as Theo’s hands stilled on his belly. The heat of him at his back. His hot breath.
“No - ” Clive said, unsteadily, “ - no, no you kept it on. I wanted you to keep it on. So I could feel it against me, while I was - while I was naked,” he stuttered out, face flushing, the wool of his trousers pulling taut over his cock, Theo’s breath hot and almost shaky on his neck.
“Oh, Clive,” Theo murmured, his voice low and thrilling. His hands on Clive’s open trousers, undoing the final buttons. The wool of his jacket scuffing Clive’s naked sides. His hands sure and precise, but - Clive noticed - shaking now. And then, his chest pressing close to Clive’s back as he pushed Clive’s trousers down, lifted his underwear gently over his cock and let it all fall to the floor, leaving Clive naked and shuddering. Clive wanted to press back into him, wanted Theo’s hand on his jutting cock, wanted all sorts of things, with Theo breathing unsteadily into his neck. And then Theo smoothed his hands back over Clive’s belly, up his chest, and stepped closer, pressing himself against Clive; and the wool of his suit was scratchy, and his buttons were hard against the knobs of Clive’s spine, but God, he could not care. Theo pulled him hard against himself, and Clive felt the thud of his heart, and the quickness of his breathing, and the hard press of his cock against his backside.
“Like this, Clive?” Theo asked softly, his hands still smoothing patterns over Clive’s chest. And Clive wanted to say yes, yes, this is it exactly, but he could not lie, however glorious this was.
“Almost - ” he said, with a touch of regret. “This is - ” oh, they never said these things aloud; they just acted. He pressed back, wanted to cover Theo’s hands with his own, but wanted to stay like this, under Theo’s hands, under his direction.
“Tell me, Clive,” Theo said, and his voice was calm but Clive could feel his heart thudding. “I want - I want to know how you thought of me, when I could not be with you.”
“You had your gloves on,” Clive said, almost whispering.
“Yes?” Theo’s voice was thoughtful. “Shall I put them on now? Would you like that?” he asked, his voice dark.
“I - ” Clive faltered, but he had come this far. “I thought I did. It’s how I pictured you. But - ” he stopped, uncertain.
“Go on, Clive,” Theo murmured, his fingertips light over Clive’s belly, drawing shivers.
“But, I don’t want that. At least, not now. Your hands - ” he broke off, swallowing. “Your hands - I want you to touch me without anything in the way.”
“Very well,” Theo said, but the shake in his voice belied his steady words as he trailed trembling fingers down Clive’s belly to brush lightly for a moment over his cock. Clive shuddered, nearly slumped, but Theo’s arm was firm around him, holding him tightly; his front pressed hot and strong all up Clive’s back. “So - ” Theo continued, as if nothing had happened, “ - were we like this, when you were thinking of us, in that cab?” He resumed his steady stroking of Clive’s chest and belly, drifting fingers lightly over a nipple, along ribs. Clive tried to think.
“No,” he managed, finally. Flushed again, thinking of it. As if it were anything more brazen than this, now. “No, you - you pushed me onto the seat, on my back, against the leather, and - and you were just, over me, everywhere, with your uniform, and your hair all over, and your hands all over me - ” he stumbled to a halt, breathless. Felt Theo’s arms tighten, felt his cock press harder. Oh, god, yes. And then Theo let go of him, stepped away, leaving Clive swaying, as he moved over to the bed, and pulled the covers back.
“We are going to use the bed, Clive.” Theo said, hotly, and Clive was almost surprised to see him in his suit, instead of his uniform. But with his hair a mess and a flush on his neck, and his eyes dark, well it was the same, really. And then Theo was taking his arm, and pulling him over to the bed, pressing him down onto it, the sheets cool against his back, Theo’s hand hot against his chest.
“I want - I want room to take my time, and so we are doing this in bed, alright?” Theo said, fierce and quick.
“Yes, god, yes,” Clive replied, looking up at him.
“So - ” Theo said, pausing for a moment with his hand pressed to Clive’s chest. Clive waited, aware of the unsteady drumming of his heart under Theo’s fingertips, of Theo’s unsteady breathing.
“So - ” Theo repeated, his voice calm once more, eyes fixed on Clive’s face even as his hand stroked Clive’s chest. “I press you back into the seat, ja?” he asked, leaning a little more heavily on Clive’s chest. Christ, thought Clive, thinking of the smooth pale skin of Theo’s arms, his muscles, his strength. He could do anything to me. His cock jumped at the thought; he was hot all over. Theo looked down, noticing everything. He smiled knowingly; looked devilish with his hair undone and his eyes dark in the dim closeness of the room. “I press you back into the seat - ” he repeated, trailing the fingertips of his other hand lightly up Clive’s thigh, raising goosebumps, “ - and then, what then, Clive?”
Clive swallowed, trying to find his voice. Between the firm press of one hand, and the teasing touch of the other, he could not think. And this, this was beyond what his imagination had shown him.
“I’m - ” he tried, dry mouthed, “ - I’m - in your hands, Theo,” he said, as he had before, hoping that Theo would understand, still. That he would continue.
“Oh, Clive,” Theo breathed, stilling his hands. “Do you know - ” He broke off, straightening; leaving cold all the places he’d been touching. Clive almost panicked, but Theo’s face was so fond, his eyes glistening. And then he leaned in close, cupping a gentle hand to Clive’s cheek, and kissed him; a brief, tender kiss. Clive kissed him back in kind; suffused for a moment with an odd peace. Theo breathed out a laugh, his breath warm against Clive’s lips; kissed him again, more fiercely; and God, Clive could forget the world in kisses like this, with Theo’s hand soft and sure on his face, the lovely familiar glory of his mouth. Theo broke off, finally, breathing hard, eyes dark.
“Oh, Clive - ” he murmured, “ - do you know, Lieber, what you do to me?”
“Same here,” Clive managed, a thrill running through him at Theo’s words, at the look on his face.
“Ja,” Theo replied, low, pressing a final soft kiss to Clive’s lips and then straightening again, resting a hand briefly on the bed. “So,” he continued, after a deep breath, smiling darkly, “where were we?”
“Oh - ” Clive murmured, shivering again as Theo drifted fingertips lightly down his chest, his side, his thigh, raising the hairs on his leg. “Oh, Christ, Theo,” he breathed, “please - ”
“You are in my hands, ja?” Theo said, softly, studying his face. “But, you know, also - ” as he continued the teasing touch down Clive’s leg, clasping a hand for a moment around his ankle, drifting fingers back up the inside of his calf, “ - I am here to give you what you want.” His touch raising shivers as he stroked inexorably up the inside of Clive’s thigh, only to stop short, teasingly, of his balls, his cock. Clive groaned, unwittingly, and Theo smiled again, devilishly, his hair falling in his eyes. “Well,” he said, almost smirking, “eventually, that is. So - ” he said, in a more serious tone, taking his hand away, “is this how you want me, ja?” stroking briefly down his suit front, “in all my clothes? Is that how you wanted it? As with my uniform?”
Clive had almost forgotten about the uniform, in his daze. He closed his eyes briefly, calling the image easily to mind - how often, over the years, he’d done so, in his bed, this bed - and opened them again to look at Theo. What did he want? He wanted everything, anything. There would be time for everything. Now, now he wanted -
“Take off your jacket,” he said, suddenly clear. “And - and roll your shirtsleeves up, so that I can - I can see your wrists, your forearms,” he said, blushing at his daring. “But leave everything else. Is that - alright?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious. But Theo was already turning away and shrugging out of his jacket, placing it neatly on the chair with Clive’s discarded clothes. And then undoing his cufflinks with his precise hands, rolling his sleeves up briskly. Clive had a flash of memory, of Theo, all those years ago, how he would do the same, every day, in the hospital.
“Alright, Clive?” Theo asked, turning, presenting himself, open; arms at his sides, palms up, almost an offering. Clive looked his fill, able to focus on all of him, properly, as if for the first time; his lovely hair, all awry; the trim lines of him; the graceful turn of his wrists; the precise neatness of his clothes; the blatant outline of his cock, pulling the fabric of his trousers taut. Christ, what a sight. Beautiful.
“Alright,” Clive huffed out a laugh, “yes, yes, Theo, very alright” ,he said, hotly. Theo smiled knowingly, walked slowly back across to the bed. Sat down very deliberately, easing the wool of his trousers carefully over his hard cock, his thigh pressed close to Clive’s, leaning an arm across him to rest on the sheets at Clive’s hip. He picked up Clive’s left hand in his right, cradling it palm upwards. Brought it close to his face and pressed a kiss to the palm as he had earlier. The tickle of his moustache, the warm soft press of his lips. Clive’s fingers twitched, curling reflexively to cup Theo’s face. Theo continued, pressing hot kisses to his wrist, the fine soft skin of his forearm. Clive gazed at him, at the fall of his hair, the curve of his ear, the smudge of his eyelashes. Felt hot all over, from just this small thing.
“You like to see my wrists, then?” Theo murmured, lips brushing the delicate skin of Clive’s, and Clive thought he could feel the blood racing through his veins there, under Theo’s mouth.
“Yes,” breathed Clive, pinned under Theo’s mouth as he worked steadily upwards, light touches, and then firmer, pausing in the crease of his elbow.
“Yes,” Clive repeated, almost losing his train of thought, “yes, when you used to do my shoulder, you remember? It’s silly - ” he said, even as Theo pressed kisses to the soft flesh of his arm.
“It is not silly,” Theo murmured, taking his wrist gently, guiding him to lay his arm out so that he could continue his progress. Clive made a protesting noise, only too aware of the smell of his sweat. “Theo - ”
“Hush, Clive,” Theo said, looking up at him.
“I’m pretty rank,” Clive admitted.
“I do not care,” Theo replied, frankly. “Not today. Not in this moment.” He pressed a firm kiss to the damp skin of Clive’s armpit, almost defiantly. “I do not mean you should stop bathing,” he laughed, softly, “but, it is you, Clive. It reminds me - ” he faltered, head bowed, thumb stroking the inside of Clive’s wrist; “ - that morning,” he continued, quietly, “when we were - rank - as you say, and hot, and that damned narrow bed - and I woke up with a foul taste in my mouth, and my face in your armpit - ” he huffed out a laugh, and looked up at Clive then, eyes fond. “So - ” he continued, with a grin, “I do not care. You - you smell the same.” His hand tightened on Clive’s wrist, “As though, as though it is always that morning - ” his gaze hot, “It - it makes me hard, Clive,” he said, almost growling.
Christ. A jolt of arousal at that. At hearing Theo say it. Theo in his neat clothes, talking of such things. God. Yes. Clive made to move his arm, to touch, and Theo’s hand tightened once more on his wrist. He looked at Clive knowingly. Christ, this was going to kill him.
“You are in my hands, mein Freund,” Theo murmured, voice husky, “so let me do this for you, ja?” still pressing kisses to his skin, still tracing patterns on his wrist with his thumb.
“Ja,” Clive breathed, overwhelmed, closing his eyes. Startled suddenly at the touch of Theo’s other hand, his fingertips tracing over the hot skin of Clive’s thigh, raising the hairs in goosebumps. Christ. His hands. Between the press of his thumb and the tease of his fingertips it was near impossible to think. And he was still pressing soft kisses into Clive’s skin, into the hot skin of his chest. And the warm press of his thigh, the faint scratch of the wool. And the tickle of his moustache as he flicked his tongue over Clive’s nipple. Clive was at once tethered and adrift, and god, it was bewildering and glorious, and he never wanted it to end. Who knew such things were possible? That fingers and lips could destroy him like this? Theo’s fingers and lips, though; that was the heart of it. Theo’s lips, his hot breath, on the ticklish skin of Clive’s belly; his palm smoothing now up the soft skin of Clive’s arm, his fingers tracing lightly down the inside of his thigh. Clive let his legs fall further apart, felt the thrum of blood in his cock as Theo teased nearer; the hard press of cloth, rasping against his thigh as Theo shifted, moving lower. Everything moving steadily closer; his hands, his mouth; his kisses pressing further downwards, into the scratching hair of his abdomen. Christ. Clive could feel Theo’s ragged breath as he paused; face hot against Clive’s belly. His fingertips still drawing shivers along Clive’s leg; teasing closer to the damp crease of his thigh; the heat of his hand maddeningly close to the sensitive skin of his balls, his cock. Christ, if Theo didn’t take him in hand soon he would lose his mind.
And then cool air on his belly as Theo lifted his head, as his hands stopped their teasing. Clive opened his eyes, groaning in frustration, but Theo was only shifting down the bed, his hand a brief weight on Clive’s knee, his thigh still pressed hard and warm against Clive’s. And then he was bending his head again, and Clive could see only the lovely dip of his neck, lower now, as he pressed kisses to the hot skin of Clive’s thigh; resumed the teasing drift of his fingertips. Clive closed his eyes, everything falling away; only the maddening tease of Theo’s mouth and fingers and then - oh, Christ - as he pressed wet kisses to the inside of Clive’s parted thighs; the brush of his hair soft against Clive’s cock. Clive moaned, unable to stop the sound. Felt the soft huff of Theo’s breath on his thigh, the curve of his cheek as he smiled.
“I want to hear you, Clive,” he said, voice muffled. Clive opened his eyes again, looked down the length of his body to see Theo looking up at him; face flushed, hair awry, eyes dark. What a sight.
“Let me hear you,” Theo said, grinning like the devil, dipping his head to breathe hot breath over the tip of Clive’s cock.
“Christ,” Clive let out, groaning, his cock jumping. This unholy teasing would kill him.
“The sounds you make, Lieber,” Theo continued, his voice husky, dipping his head again and - oh, holy Christ finally - licking a hot wet stripe up Clive’s cock, dragging another moan from him. God, but it was not enough! But the sight of it, how wrecked he looked! With his hair messed and his face hot and his teasing closeness.
“The sounds you make,” Theo murmured, breathing deliberately again over Clive’s cock, and Christ that was almost unbearable, “do you know?” he said, looking up again at Clive, “verdamnt, man - ” and dear god, pressing a hand to his trousers, palming his own cock through them, eyes falling closed, “ - what you do to me,” he breathed, frozen for a moment. Then opened his eyes, flushing even more, visibly struggling. Shuddering a breath in and moving his hand from his cock back to Clive, to rest hot on his hip. Clive half wanted to protest it; what a sight it was to see him touch himself, how he wanted to look his fill! Yet selfish, selfish, he wanted nothing but Theo’s hands on him; his - god his mouth - on him. Theo looked at him, knowingly, and Clive thought once again his thoughts must be clear on his face.
“Oh, Clive. So many things we can do,” Theo said, low. “But, this, now.” He grinned, devilish again. “You are in my hands, ja? Well - this is all for you.” And he dipped his head again, hair brushing Clive’s quivering abdomen, and then - fuck - finally - the perfect hot wet suck of his mouth, enveloping him. Only the firm press of Theo’s hand on his hip stopped him jerking hard into it, but - Christ - the feel of it! Glorious! It was too much, almost. After the slow tease of Theo’s hands, his clever kisses. Clive tipped his head back, gasping for air, desperate not to come just from the sight, of Theo’s mouth hot and firm and wicked on him; his hands - oh god his hands! One teasing lightly over the delicate skin of his balls, the other tight on his cock, hand and mouth perfect, relentless, Christ this would be the end of him. He felt as if he’d been hard for hours, but this was fast driving him towards the end. Theo’s hair falling on his belly, his hot wet wicked mouth, the steady stroke of his hand, god he was close, wanted release, wanted to draw it out, didn’t ever want an end to this glorious feeling, knew he was gasping out obscene sounds, couldn’t care, with the perfect hot wet tight slide of it, the awful shivery tease, the firm grip. And then - Christ - the press of something hard behind his balls, the tightening grip, the hot wet press of tongue, the delirious glory of it all - he tried to gasp out Theo’s name - the hard hot pull of it all and fuck, he was coming, bowstring taut, jerking uncontrollably into Theo’s beautiful mouth, shuddering through it, gasping; feeling oh god Theo swallowing around him, the heavy weight of Theo pressing his hips down, the lovely heat of it all, god, chest heaving, slumping finally, shattered.
Lightheaded, pressing a hand to his eyes, shaking out a laugh. Theo’s head pressed heavy to his belly, his mouth gentling. Felt Theo move, felt himself slip shiveringly out of that lovely wet heat, his cock suddenly cold, and the weight of Theo gone. Clive managed to crack an eye open, to see Theo wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, red faced and breathless. He glanced up to see Clive watching him, pulled a wry face.
“It has been a while since I did that,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest, “ I was not sure - ” he paused for a breath, the flush still high on his cheeks, “ - I wanted to - ”, he broke off, laughing, shrugging.
“Oh,” Clive murmured, a glorious lassitude spreading through him, a sense of understanding, “yes,” he said, stupidly. He found he was grinning, unable to stop; heart still rattling. “I remember - ” he continued, breathing a little calmer now, “ - those street boys - ”, suddenly thrown back decades, “ - some of them would just spit on the ground.” He laughed. “A good batman,” he said, eyeing Theo with a grin, “learns never to mention the state of your boots.”
Theo laughed, looking boyish, with his grin and his hair a mess, and reached over to throw the handkerchief on the bedside table. Winced, and Clive stupidly thought of his leg, before realisation slowly dawned.
“Christ, Theo,” he said, feelingly, “I’ve been selfish.”
“Nein, Clive,” Theo replied, voice low and husky; pressing a hand briefly to Clive’s sweaty flank. “I said - all for you, ja?” He smiled, shifted on the bed, arching his back and rolling his shoulders. “But - ” he looked again at Clive, his gaze heated, “tell me now, what you want me to do.” He palmed his cock through his trousers again, his breathing fast and a little unsteady. “I do not think -” he faltered, stroking himself as if he couldn’t help it, and oh, what a sight that was! “ - the sound of you, Clive! I do not think it will take long,” he managed, dropping his head back, closing his eyes.
What a choice! Clive could barely think for a moment. The sight of him, still so buttoned up, but coming undone, and the flex of muscle in his forearm, the curve of his wrist. Clive knew then.
“This,” Clive said, struggling to push himself up on his elbows, “just this. I want to see you touch yourself, I want - ” he continued, and everything was easy to say, suddenly, with the little thrills of aftershocks still twitching his muscles, “I want so many things, Theo. But god, look at you! I want to see you like this, in your fine clothes, bringing yourself off. Will you do that?” he asked, voice gone husky at the thought of it.
“Verdamnt, Clive, the things you say!” Theo said, opening his eyes, laughing almost desperately, a flush on his throat. “Ja, werde ich - I will, if you are sure?”
“Very sure,” Clive replied, thrilled. “Please.”
“Ach - ” Theo bowed his head for a moment, stilled his hand, chest heaving. “Like this, here?” he asked, voice a little unsteady. Clive thought for a second, picturing it. What he wanted. Oh, god yes.
“No, here - ” he reached weakly for Theo’s arm, grasped loosely at it, the tense muscles in his lovely forearm. Theo shivered, and Clive flushed, that he could have such an effect. “- here - ” Clive continued, “- sit astride me, yes? Like you do, sometimes. So I can see you properly. So I can - I can feel the weight of you. Alright?”
“Ja, alright,” Theo said, getting stiffly to his feet. His leg, that was some of it, but the rest, Clive thought - god, the rest - Theo’s cock, hard against his trousers, what a lovely sight. Theo was toeing his shoes off, and then hitching his trousers up, clambering awkwardly onto the bed, settling finally over Clive, straddling him, the rasp of wool against his bare thighs. It was itchy, but Clive didn’t care, when he could look his fill.
“Gott, Clive,” Theo said, resting his backside against Clive’s knees, hooking a finger into his shirt collar in frustration, “I need to take my tie off, ja?” he said, as if asking permission.
“God, Theo, of course. Sorry.” Clive blushed, ashamed of himself for not thinking.
“It is alright, Clive,” Theo said, tugging it loose and throwing it across to the chair, undoing a couple of shirt buttons. Oh, lord, the sight of him, his flushed throat, the curve of his collarbones! And with his sleeves rolled, and his hair a mess, what a glorious sight. And he had a hand on his cock again, palming it slowly through his trousers.
“Let me see you,” Clive said, settling back into the pillows, feeling a glorious freedom. He really could say anything. “Let me see you fuck your hand.”
“Verdamnt - ” Theo moaned, pressing hard against his cock. “Clive! Christ - ” but he was undoing his buttons with shaking hands, pushing his underwear aside and finally bringing his cock out, oh lovely. Clive found he had his hands on Theo’s knees, stroking, all he could reach of him. Theo pressed his thighs tight against Clive’s, his hand fast on his cock, and all the muscles taut in his forearm, lovely, lovely, and the flush spreading down his throat, and the still neat lines of his waistcoat; and the sight of his lovely pink cock, hard and slick through his hand, the other hand cupping his balls, his head tilted back, hair falling forward, eyes narrowed, fixed on Clive’s face. Clive looked his fill, looked at all of him, every bit of him beautiful like this, hard and hot and wrecked and coming apart; his chest heaving now, breath coming in short gasps.
“Yes,” Clive breathed, voice husky and low, “yes, that’s it, love, look at you,” he murmured, lost in the sight of it, the beautiful turn of his wrist, the speed of his hand, “yes, Theo, yes - ” at the weight of his backside gone from his legs, kneeling up now, he must be close, back ramrod straight, “ - yes, that’s it, come on - ” Clive whispered, and Theo let out a curse and stiffened, cock jerking, coming hard over his fist, over Clive’s limp cock, over his belly; Theo falling forward, holding himself up over Clive, jerking the last of it out over Clive’s chest, shuddering, head down, so that all Clive could see was the mess of his hair and the flush on his neck and the tight strain of his shoulders. Theo stayed frozen there for a moment, and then fell to the side, the mattress bouncing a little as he rolled onto his back, chest heaving, sticky hand flung uncaringly over the side of the bed.
Clive looked at him, gazed his fill once more as Theo’s breathing slowly steadied, with the flush still on his neck, and his collar crumpled, and his cock hanging soft from his trousers. He could feel the mess of Theo’s spunk starting to trickle down his belly, thought he should mop himself up. He reached reluctantly over to the bedside table for Theo’s handkerchief, wet and faintly disgusting now, and wiped up as best he could, throwing the cloth onto the table again, wishing for a moment that it wasn’t such a messy business. He felt Theo’s hot fingers linking with his own, as if he could not bear to lie here and not touch. Clive tightened his hand, turned back to Theo, who was looking more recovered now, looking sideways at him, eyes merry.
“So, Clive Candy,” he said, a tease in his voice, “had I known you could say such things I would have asked you years ago what you wanted of me.”
“Oh, rot,” Clive said, embarrassment warring with contentedness.
“I do not mean about the uniform,” Theo said, conversationally, as if he weren’t lying fully dressed with his cock still hanging out; as if Clive weren’t naked and covered in the remains of his spunk, “I mean your filthy mouth. I never thought I would hear you say ‘fuck’,” he grinned, eyes bright, “let alone hear you tell me to fuck my hand.”
“I’ve been in the army since I was twenty,” Clive said, mildly, “I’m not deaf. But - I blame you,” he continued, suddenly easy about it all. “You and your devilish ways. But, oh - ” he grinned, rolling onto his side to pull Theo close to him, “oh it was marvellous, all of it.” And he kissed him, hot and fierce, pushing a hand through his messy hair to hold him close. Theo tasted faintly bitter, unlike himself, and Clive realised with a start that it was his own spunk he could taste, and god, yes, that was a little strange. A little thrilling too. And underneath that was the loveliness of Theo’s mouth, and the wicked things he knew it could do. He flushed, even as Theo’s arm came around him, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. It was only when the wool of his trousers scraped Clive’s cock that he pulled back, wincing.
“Sorry,” Theo said, concerned.
“Alright. My choice, after all.” Clive said, smoothing the hair back from Theo’s brow. Now they were calm again he could see how tired Theo still looked, even after their nap earlier. He could stand another nap, if he were honest with himself. “Let’s get you undressed, eh? I think we deserve another rest after that.”
Theo huffed a laugh at him, nodding in agreement. “Yes very well,” he said, untangling himself from Clive and pushing himself up on his elbow. “You are going to help?” he asked, eyes bright.
“Oh - ” Clive said, lying back and scrabbling on the bedside table for cigarettes, “Oh, you’ve worn me out, old man, with all of that. Best you do it yourself. I’ll see to the fags, eh?”
“Ha!” Theo snorted, pushing himself off the bed and throwing a pillow at him, half heartedly. “Next time, General, you will do all the work!”
Clive smiled, lighting the cigarettes; handed one to Theo as he came round to his side of the bed, already unbuttoning his waistcoat, his trousers gaping comically, held up only by his braces. He stripped quickly, methodically, the fag never leaving his mouth, tossing his clothes onto the chair, where he’d piled Clive’s neatly. Clive rearranged his pillows, propping himself up and smoking happily, watching Theo. He was soon naked, the flush fading from his chest, and Clive looked in concern at his ribs, thinking they were more obvious than when he had last seen him. He wouldn’t make a fuss though, Theo hated that. Just a quiet word to Murdoch, and they would soon have him looking better. Theo padded back round the bed, stubbing his cigarette out on the way, flopping onto the mattress and hauling up the covers, settling down to curl himself into Clive’s side, head heavy on his chest, arm slung comfortably across his belly. Clive finished his cigarette, pushed at Theo to get him to lift his head so that he could settle more comfortably, his arm round Theo’s shoulders. Pulled the covers further up, though they barely needed them, warm as it was. Yawned, unexpectedly, prompting a quiet laugh from Theo.
“If your men could see you now, General,” Theo murmured sleepily, a smile in his voice.
“My men should be so lucky,” he said, thinking of them unexpectedly back in barracks, none of them with this glory waiting for them. He pulled Theo closer to him, thinking of Theo’s words earlier, of waking up pressed hot and close and uncomfortable together, all those years ago. The memory of it was still lovely, but lovelier still was the thought that Theo had carried it with him all these years as well. Theo tightened his arm across Clive’s belly, muttering something that Clive could not make out.
“What’s that, my boy?” Clive asked, stroking his hand idly along Theo’s warm arm.
“Bath, Clive, later?”
“You meant what you said, then?” Clive asked, smiling, “When you said I was not to give up bathing?”
“Ja,” he murmured, pressing his face more heavily into Clive’s arm, “I am afraid, mein Freund, that you are pretty rank,” he finished, the smile evident in his voice.
“You too, now,” Clive replied, settling further down into the pillows, hand stilled now, on Theo’s bicep, thumb stroking softly at the warm skin. “You too.” But Theo’s head was a dead weight, and his breathing was slow; he was asleep. Good, thought Clive. Let him sleep the day away, he needs it. He closed his eyes, lulled by the steady sound of Theo’s breath, and the faint thump of his heart against his side, thinking of all the hours they had, even were they to sleep the day away. They had all evening, and all night, and time enough, now, for everything.
clarasteam Wed 01 Oct 2014 06:14PM UTC
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