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Even after his years at school and even more in the service, a place that encouraged the suppression and elimination of strong feelings, at the expense of most of one’s personality, Anthony had never seen a man quite so at war with himself. The Captain’s one concession to the heat of an unusually warm Sunday afternoon was undoing two buttons on his tunic, while the rest of his retinue, Havers excluded, had stripped down to their swim costumes and were frolicking in the lake.
“Aren’t you a little hot, sir? That jacket’s wool,” Anthony said, looking up from where he sprawled on the ground. He’d left his own jacket back at Button House, feeling liberated from duty as he’d tramped towards the lake, book in hand. He’d found a blanket and had spread it across the ground, in the shade, so he could sit without getting his trousers dirty. The area directly under the tree was hard-packed dirt and rock, but slightly farther away the springy grass and cushion of the blanket made a more comfortable resting place. The air was sticky with humidity, mercy arriving in the form of a regular, gentle breeze.
“Ah. Yes. A bit. But the chain of command is paramount, Havers.” The Captain, who had a tendency to hunch, straightened, his chin jutting out, the model of a soldier to a fault.
“Of course. I’m happy to keep an eye on things here if you’d rather avoid the heat. Or we could leave them to it, if you have inventory or another task you require my assistance for.” Anthony looked up again. The Captain’s face pinched at Anthony’s inquiry, another internal skirmish. Anthony turned to his book. Cap would come to a decision, maybe soon, maybe not, but he couldn’t be rushed or he’d shut down. The most that Anthony could do was gently shepherd him one way or the other.
“I’ll leave you to it, Havers. Tonight, we may need to review, ah, that. But I will, erm. Yes.” He gave a short nod, turned and left, without any acknowledgment that what he’d said was less of a sentence and more a series of noises.
Anthony glanced back, watching the Captain go, his eyes lingering on where the fabric stretched across his backside. Not a bad view, even if it was only available when he was walking away.
What an odd, earnest man. Anthony had thought, incorrectly, that the Captain was putting on a bit of an act, playing a role. He was, to be sure, a bit ill-suited for service, Anthony thought. Or at least a bad fit for something at the front. Here, however, even with his tightly-wound demeanor, he seemed to excel, one level removed, tasked with research and maintaining the home front. His subordinates sometimes found him a little eccentric and obsessive over rules, but they seemed to genuinely like the man, or at least tolerate him. Anthony had overheard a bit of teasing and derision. He’d put a stop to it, reminding them that they were unlikely to find another CO who would let them get away with an afternoon off at the lake if they convinced him it was “good for morale.”
Anthony found himself looking forward to their meetings, and when they’d been assigned a top-secret research and development project, they were spending much more time together. Closeness in proximity and temporally meant Anthony had gotten to see the Captain become James, sweet, funny, though usually unintentionally so, particularly when he was being prickly about something, and deeply in denial.
At the very least it was a delightful distraction. He turned back to his book. The cover was so old that the title and author had flaked off. Nobody could see his indulgence. Anthony moved the blanket twice as the sun moved towards the horizon so he could stay under the shade of the trees. It was nice to have a day off. He’d look up infrequently to ensure the horseplay had not intensified to the realm of roughhousing. Rather, it had mellowed into something tamer. Two people were off gossiping along the far end. One was doing slow laps, and everyone else was floating lazily on their backs.
“Seems you have things under control.” The Captain had returned, the belt and jacket having been left behind. “May I?”
“Please.” Anthony scooted over to make room on the blanket. He’d stretched himself out along the ground. The Captain, on the other hand, made himself round and small, pulling his knees up to his chest like a child.
“Austen? Not what I would have expected.” James leaned over. “Isn’t it dense?”
“A bit but then you, I suppose, dive in and the writing just sings. And she’s rather witty, you know.”
“Maybe I should have brought a book.”
“Here. You can read mine. I’m going in,” Anthony said, unlacing his boots, pulling them off, and tucking his socks neatly inside.
James looked at him with almost comically wide eyes. “In?”
Anthony smiled, standing. He was mostly, almost entirely sure that James was similar to him, in terms of general preferences, and fancied him, but he wasn’t certain. This would be a test. He kept his back to James so that it didn’t appear that he was undressing for him, though he most certainly was, unbuttoning his shirt methodically to avoid catching any loose threads around the buttons, unhooking his braces and letting them fall loose, pulling his undershirt off over his head, smoothing his hair down after it was discarded, and sliding his trousers down and off his legs. Underneath, swim trunks, in a lovely shade of red. Anthony glanced over one shoulder, nearly batting his eyelashes.
James was blushing hard, his eyes glued to the text of Sense and Sensibility.
Anthony stretched his arms upwards, swinging them around a few times to loosen up his shoulders, then bent down, touching his toes. He took a larger stance, stretching down to one foot before straightening and stretching down to the other. Bending backwards, he felt his spine cracking. Lastly, he rolled his head around gently, all of these movements done with an even speed to avoid injury.
“Ah. Good and limber,” he said mostly to himself. James had somehow made himself even smaller. He was probably wishing for that jacket back so he could have another barrier between himself and Anthony’s bare legs and chest.
His hunch confirmed, Anthony went trotting towards the lake, running off the dock, and cannonballed into the water. Very un-lieutenant-like. Surfacing, shaking his hair out, Anthony took a few lazy laps across the lake, getting accustomed to the water. Cold, a refreshing relief from the heat. His muscles enjoyed this different type of workout and movement.
The remaining men, three privates, finally decided they’d had enough, and departed, collecting two women who were sunning themselves on the grass as they went. Anthony watched them go, waiting at least ten more minutes to make sure they were alone before emerging from the lake.
“Say, Havers, this is quite good. Thank you for…” The Captain looked up and made a noise that came from somewhere in his diaphragm, a cross between a teakettle’s whistle and an air-raid siren. Anthony knew how he looked, his swimsuit clinging to his thighs, water running down his chest and back and legs.
“Glad you like it,” he said, flopping down on the blanket, shaking his head to get water out of his ear.
“Stop! You’re getting me wet.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“James.” He cleared his throat several times, still looking at the book. “You can call me James.”
Anthony smiled. “Sorry, James.”
“Hmph.” He turned the page, continuing to read while Anthony let the setting sun dry his skin, the heat making it prickle and tighten. He’d need to shower with soap, lest the lake water dry him out. His complexion was delicate, his sister had remarked once. In the quiet, Anthony could pretend this was any weekend evening spent relaxing by the lake next to an attractive man with creaky knees, and not a tiny respite from war, living under rationing and the specter of invasion.
“I’m going to go in one more time. Want to join me? I know you’ve got a swim costume under there,” Anthony said.
“What?” James sounded offended.
“Your trousers are bunching at the thighs.”
James blushed, perhaps from being found out, or the knowledge that Anthony had been looking at his thighs. Which he had.
“Haven’t made up my mind. It looks cold. And slimy.”
“Well, I’m going back in. And since nobody is around…” Anthony stood, looking down the path towards the house with an exaggerated gesture. He walked down to the edge of the lake, glancing back at James, who looked up briefly, then back at his book, his face a furious shade of pink.
Now or never.
There was rumor that the elastic in clothing was going to be rationed, so Anthony should take care with the suit. He’d handwash and line-dry it later. He exhaled, hooking his thumbs into the waistband, tugging the trunks over his backside, the band catching on his cock as he pulled the suit off. It slipped down to his thighs, the still-damp fabric sticking to his skin. If he dwelled too much on what James was seeing, he’d be too embarrassed to continue. Down, over his knees, to his ankles, Anthony stepping out and jogging to the water, the breeze whispering across acres of bare skin, the water a welcome cold as his face burned from his actions. Just a bit of boyish fun.
“A-Anthony!”
The water was up to his waist. Safe enough to turn around.
“Yes?”
“You- you’re- you-”
He smiled at James, biting his lip, feeling his face flush. He almost couldn’t believe his own boldness, letting James see him in the altogether. If he’d been wrong, read James incorrectly, then he’d have to put in for a transfer as soon as possible, perhaps abscond in the middle of the night.
“Would you want to come in?” The sun was casting long shadows across the lake.
“Uh.”
Anthony stepped back and pushed off with his feet, floating onto his back, away from the shore, pumping his arms to keep his head above the water.
“Uh yes? Or uh no? Might not have such nice weather for a while,” he called out. “Should take advantage of it.”
James was fighting another internal battle, his face scrunched up, moustache fully bristled. “I suppose…the troops will be fine, uh, by themselves, right?” He stood, loosening his tie.
“You’ve taught them well, and you’ve no reason to worry.” Anthony put his feet down, brushing the muddy bottom of the lake, his toes sinking in. He hadn’t planned or imagined anything beyond shucking his trunks, to the extent that he’d really done any kind of planning in his plot to lure James into the water.
At the shore, James had arrived at his conclusion, undressing slowly, his body sideways as though to give Anthony the least amount of surface area upon which to look. Anthony would have liked to have gone closer, but that risked driving James back to the house, back to being the Captain, and any chance he had with James would be sunk. He’d have to admire James from afar.
The shirt was undone, suspenders shrugged out of. James grasped the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up over his head. Each item of clothing had to be shaken out, folded carefully, and set in a tidy pile, drawing out the little display.
Anthony didn’t know where to look. James’ biceps, which had been hidden under layers of uniform. His broad shoulders that filled out his jacket. His trim waist that had been emphasized by the belt. James had bent over, undoing the laces on his boots, tugging them off while hopping on one foot. Finally the trousers, pushed down his legs and stepped out of. He’d chosen a tasteful pair of navy swim trunks.
And those thighs. Anthony was thankful the water was cold, inhibiting his growing excitement. He could drown in those thighs, thick and muscular, and all of that beautiful ivory skin, punctuated by the occasional freckle, thighs leading down to slightly knobby knees and shapely calves, and up to a strong, rounded rear.
James walked down towards the lake, ignoring the damp red swim costume where Anthony had left it, stepping into the lake. He waded deeper, eyes closed with a murmur of satisfaction, smiling as the weight of command and authority seemed to wash off with the water. Finally up to his shoulders, he pushed off, swimming to the other side and back with a practiced breaststroke.
“Impressive form,” Anthony said as James stopped near him.
“Thank you. Used to be quite good at it in school. And it’s easier on my knees. I should come out here more often.” He shook his head, the water from his hair flying out and catching Anthony across the face.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean-”
Anthony splashed at him, surprising James.
“Striking a superior officer? Havers! I ought to write you up!”
“For what?” Anthony grinned. “You just got a little wet, and you’re already in the lake, which, if you’ve noticed, is full of water.”
James shook his head, smiling. He started to turn away before rotating back quickly, splashing a wave of water at Anthony, getting him with his mouth open.
“Fair’s fair.”
“Shots fired,” Anthony said, swimming closer.
“You started it!” James protested as Anthony splashed him again. He really was handsome, the water on his skin, in his hair and moustache, clinging to his eyelashes, his grin wide and uninhibited. “Truce! Truce!”
Anthony saluted, smiling. “Your surrender has been granted.” He circled around James, who wiped water out of his moustache, both of them leisurely paddling about in comfortable silence.
“I wish I was like you, Havers,” James said, doing a few backstrokes, face turned to the sky.
“How’s that, sir?”
“Oh. You know. You’re so…comfortable in any setting. Always know the right thing to say. No stumbling or stuttering. Nobody snickering behind you. You’re not afraid of anything. People admire you and trust you.”
“People trust you too,” Anthony said.
“They trust the uniform and what it represents. I just happen to be the body currently inhabiting it. That’s all. I wish I had your confidence.”
Anthony felt an upwelling of charity for James. Not pity, though God knows he was sometimes a bit pitiable. James was a good leader, a bit high-strung, but the soldiers below him liked his little idiosyncrasies, his tendency towards hypervigilance. They didn’t get to see his mind at work the way Anthony did. A damnable shame, but it meant more for Anthony alone to treasure.
He kicked off so he could float on his back again. The sky was so beautiful. Would it be the same if he put in for a transfer and was sent to the front? Would he be looking at the same sky above as James? What a silly thought. Yes, it would all be the same sky, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to think of it as different, as far away. Duty threaded itself through his thoughts. But something else tugged at his heart.
“I say, Havers, you look a thousand years away from me,” James said. He’d swum closer.
“Sorry. I- yes. I was. Very sorry. I have some decisions to make soon. Difficult ones. My career. The war.”
“Oh. Yes. Naturally.” James looked defeated. “Button House is no place for a man who wishes to make a name for himself. I would want that too, I think, were I your age. Getting a bit chilly. I should head back.”
Service at the front would be the correct thing to do, but it stung. Either way lay both promise and disappointment. And danger. Could he leave without making it known where his affections lay and whether they were reciprocated? James had taken a few half-hearted paddles to towards the shore.
“Stay. It’s still nice out.”
“I’ve done all I think I care to enjoy.”
An indecorous idea blossomed.
“Have you? You could lose the trunks, you know,” Anthony said.
James spluttered out an answer that contained the words “unheard of” and “indecent” and “for God’s sake, Anthony.”
“I don’t think I heard a no. C’mon. I dare you.” Anthony smiled at James, who was turning pink, again. He liked making James blush, and it was far too easy to do so.
“Daring a superior?”
“Thought it was a day off. Haven’t you ever gone skinny dipping?”
“Using my words against me. Yes…I have,” James said, unconvincingly, “and a leader never backs down in the face of a challenge.” He didn’t look bold and decisive. He looked scared, treading water faster.
“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to. It was just a little joke. We can head back. You just need to promise not to look when I-”
James’ hands were under the water, working at something, his brow furrowed in concentration until he thrust one hand out of the water, holding the trunks aloft triumphantly. He balled them up, swimming closer to the shore before tossing them onto the grass. They landed near the other pair, Anthony looking closely at what he thought was the curve and shape of James’ pale backside through the water.
“Oh. This is very relaxing,” James hummed, swimming back, keeping a respectful distance and looking everywhere but at Anthony.
“Told you. Isn’t it nice to let your hair down every once in awhile? Just be yourself, not the uniform?”
James stopped swimming, looking thoughtful. “I’ve been in uniform so long, I’m not sure I know what it’s like to be out of it. It’s who I am. I don’t think I can make a distinction.”
A moment of honesty from James demanded reciprocity. Anthony moved closer, taking small strokes under the water so as to not call attention to his progress.
“Do you still know yourself?” he asked.
“I…am not sure what you mean.” James eyed Anthony and his approach warily, but didn’t move away.
“Are your likes and dislikes your own, or dictated by your stature? By what’s expected versus your true wants?”
“Is this a philosophy class?”
Anthony reached out his hand under the water, finding James’ arm, wrapping his fingers around it, gently, pulling James closer. His skin was clammy and soft from being in the water so long. James stiffened, but did not pull back or away, looking at Anthony with something akin to excitement. Or fear.
“By what I mean is…if, say, I were to kiss someone, someone I knew, a solider, like me. Someone who was…like me. Would I be reported? For something as small as a kiss? If it were someone with perhaps, a moustache that any man would envy, and hair shot through with silver.” He was very close to James, facing him, holding his arm. His feet touched the lake bottom so he could stand, mostly. “Reported, even though it is my heart’s desire? Would he let me, do you suppose?”
“I-I-I, ah, suppose that, er, if that soldier would-would like to be kissed then, then, it wouldn’t be, s-so bad.”
“That soldier could swim away and forget all of this.” Anthony slipped his hands into James’, knowing James would need both enough reassurances that his intentions weren’t malicious and enough bolt-holes to escape through. Hold him, but not too tight. Security, not inescapable.
“Would that soldier like to be kissed?” Their bodies were near touching, legs brushing, James’ face close, so close Anthony could see James’ nostrils flare as he inhaled deeply, feel the warmth of his breath, smell his aftershave, diminished in strength due to the time in the water.
“Um. Y-yes. I think perhaps that soldier might like-”
Anthony bent in, his lips touching James’, James sighing heavily through his nose, his entire body tense for only a second or two before relaxing, molding itself to Anthony’s.
“Oh,” James said softly, his eyes remaining closed as Anthony drew back. “Oh. Um. Another?”
Anthony kissed him again, fitting his lips to James’ small, beautiful mouth. He did very much enjoy the frenzied, near manic kissing and groping of something urgent and quick, but this was lovely too, the gentle invitation for someone to follow and explore, and James was worthy of much tenderness. Perhaps inside lay an insatiable animal but that would likely take an age to find, and this man deserved nothing but kindness. He slipped his hands free, wrapping one around James’ low back.
“Someone could see,” James said, resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder.
“They won’t. Look how far we are from the shore. And the road is too far off.” To be spotted would require someone to swim out halfway through the lake, and even then, one or both of them could hide in the blue arrow rushes, concealed by tall grass and twilight. “Besides, I heard them making plans to go to the local pub.”
“In that case…” James touched Anthony’s neck gently with his lips. “Is here, ah, all right? I don’t…”
“Kiss me where you’d like to be kissed, James. You’re just lovely in this light.” Anthony’s head felt fuzzy, that warm rush of being in the presence of someone he desired most fervently.
“How do I know you’re not just, not, not just using me?” James jerked back at Anthony’s hand brushing his thigh.
“Do you think me some kind of seducer? Is that it?” It hurt, but he knew where this was coming from. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d be having a much easier time with deciding whether to leave. Can I please, please put my hand on you before I combust?”
James looked back at him, eyes large. Too many forces were at war within him, Anthony could see, some that James wasn’t consciously aware of. Desire seemed to finally have the upper hand, James smiling shyly, a look that should be ridiculous on a middle-aged man but was, instead, amusing and flattering.
“I wish you would,” he mumbled into Anthony’s neck, pressing his lips there, his moustache tickling. Anthony shivered, slipping his hand between them, tracing fingers down James’ stomach, made more exciting because though James was here, naked, in front of him, Anthony was unable to see him in the darkness and the water. Down lower, until his fingers reached that coarse thatch of hair, and then James’ prick, hardening.
“Here?” he asked, James answering with something between a “yes” and a groan. Anthony nuzzled his face against James, their mouths meeting indelicately, noses bumping. James breathed hotly as he pawed at Anthony, his eagerness exhilarating. Anthony knew what it was to be coveted, James’ touch electric. He’d known, almost surely, that James liked him, but he didn’t know if it was a schoolyard crush, simple and sweet and surface-level. The more time Anthony spent with him, the harder it was to ignore his own mounting needs, to resist tearing James’ clothes off him, even knowing that James would be horrified at the damage and impropriety. Kiss him and touch him and get him hard and then to completion. He wanted that so badly for James.
And here James was, his fingers around Anthony’s cock, tugging him off clumsily yet efficiently, Anthony closer to finishing than he’d thought.
“Christ, I’m, ah.” He pressed his mouth into James’ to muffle his moans. His knees wobbled. Thank God they were in water.
“Am I, is it…” James’ grip loosened.
“No, please, just what you were doing, keep doing it, I want to,” Anthony panted, the pathway between his brain and his mouth fraying. His own hands on James felt tingly and stupidly inept, unable to concentrate on it with his hips involuntarily jutting into James. Nearly there, his core contracting, his eyes squeezing shut, legs going rigid, nearly, nearly, nearly-
Anthony groaned out, James kissing him to muffle him as he came. At least the lake made for easy cleanup. He slumped against James as the final contractions of his orgasm drummed through him.
“You’re marvelous,” James said. “Truly, I hope you won’t mind, but you look very, er, gorgeous.”
Anthony shook off his tiredness, opening his eyes. James looked at him as though he’d discovered buried treasure.
“Thank you, James, I don’t mind it at all.”
“Oh! Excellent. Uh, maybe we should head back, it’s going to be fully dark soon-”
“Not before I return the favor.” Anthony groped for James, finding his neglected cock half-erect. James nearly squeaked at the surprise.
“Good?” Anthony asked, his hand pumping James, his other arm around his back, holding James steady in case he collapsed after, the way Anthony almost had. James could only nod, color blooming across his cheeks, his neck, across his chest, as much as Anthony could tell in the twilight. He loved this part. This part was exquisite, powerful, and if Anthony hadn’t just finished, he’d be hard himself. He wanted James to feel adored. He wanted to make him feel good. And he wanted to get him off.
James was stuttering out Anthony’s name, breathing hard. He was close, so quick to respond. Anthony kissed along James’ neck, nipping at his earlobe, his jaw, his chin, landing back on his lips, James so far gone he didn’t seem able to respond to Anthony’s open-mouthed kiss.
“You can, I know you can. Let go, James.” Anthony ran his thumb over the crown, underneath, around the head, before returning to the shaft. That, James liked apparently, his breathing increasing, so Anthony did it again, and again, pumping against James.
“I-” James gasped, swore, and came, his hands clutching at Anthony uselessly, his body rigid, then boneless. It took him a few minutes to recover, Anthony rubbing his low back and shoulder, keeping him close while he regained the ability to stand and speak.
“We’re going to be all pruney,” James said, looking a bit sad. “Best we get back, I suppose. Back to being Captain and Lieutenant.” He had his head bowed, turning to swim back to shore.
Anthony kicked off, swimming next to him. “We don’t have to.”
“Anthony, I’m cold and wet.”
“No, I mean-”
“I know what you mean but I, I don’t see how.” James had reached the shore. “How this would even, ah, work, not that I don’t, er. What I mean is that I am, er, you are very good at that and, ah. Um. I do find I’m a bit taken with you, but if you’d rather this just be, you know, a bit of a lark, I, I understand. I would hope to trust your discretion.” He was out, walking quickly, but at least Anthony could appreciate his backside. Now was most definitely not the time, particularly if he wanted to see it unclothed again.
“Wait. James, wait.” Anthony was out, grabbing his swimsuit and slipping it on, the fabric dry. James had found his and was pulling it up his legs. “I’m keen on you too. Look. We’re both good at being all business when we need it, aren’t we? For king and country. And…if we can keep those, er, well, distinct, at least in front of others, maybe this could be…something.” He sounded like a simpleton, knowing it would be more complicated than he’d made it out to be, but that was a worry for another time.
James looked up, his blue eyes luminous and sad in the dying light.
“But you’re thinking of putting in for a transfer. And then you’ll leave-”
Anthony wrapped both arms around James and kissed him, a long and lingering kiss. “I think I’m needed more on the home front. Wouldn’t you agree?”