Fandom: Danger UXB: It was 1940 and London was in the midst of the Blitz. This late 70s British series follows the lives of Section 347, who disposed of the bombs that fell nightly.

Summary: This story takes place during the last show of the series. While Ash is recovering from the explosion that nearly killed him, Sergeant James pays him a visit at his Aunt's house in the country.

Rating: NC-17 for explicit m/m sex.

Pairing: Brian Ash/Sergeant James

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I did not write this for money. I saw a story between the lines, and I wrote it.

Feedback Feeds the Hungry Soul: The Ragged Rose

His pass warm in his pocket, Sergeant James knocked on the door. At the muffled "come in," he entered and came to smart attention in front of the desk, tossing off a proper salute.

Major Ivor Rodgers, OC of the 97th Company, Royal Engineers, looked up from his work. "Sergeant James. What can I do for you?"

James swallowed his discomfort and spoke. "Sir, I’ve got some time off, and I wanted to go up and see Mr. Ash. I’m sorry to presume, but I thought I ought to telephone before I went up. I was wondering if I might get the exchange from you, sir?"

Rodgers gestured at the chair. "Sit down, Sergeant, would you?" Somehow the Sergeant’s appearance, irregular as it was, made perfect sense. Brian Ash had become another person since his injury. It was a probability every officer in bomb disposal lived with. Someday your luck would run out. Brian’s time had come on a lifeboat station. Ironically, he and his Section had been disarming mines laid by his own side. One had gone off, blowing him into the water. Miraculously, he had survived, though not without a few scars. The physical injuries were bad enough, his right leg would never be the same, but the mental scars were far worse. No one seemed to be able to get through to him, not his fiancee, not Rodgers himself. He had thought their friendship was strong enough to survive anything, but now he wasn’t so sure. Try as he might, he could not break through the shell of anger and hurt that Brian had pulled around himself. No one had been able to. Methodically, Brian had cut every tie he could, and had begun to drink quite heavily. Rodgers darted a look at the Sergeant, wondering how much he knew.

Sergeant James was the perfect NCO. He knew his place and kept to it. He had virtually trained Ash on his own when the newly-commissioned lieutenant had arrived at his assignment, not even realizing what his new job entailed. The two had become quite close over the years, within the limits of the proper relationship between an officer and his men. James was a model of efficiency, but under the calm and correct exterior lay a man who cared deeply for his men, whose basic kindness was tempered by fairness and a strict adherence to the letter of the regulations. He also had a talent bordering on prescience for knowing what his men were up to. Aside from that, Rodgers knew little of the man. His private life was a subject the Sergeant kept strictly separated from his duty and Rodgers had always respected that distance. Now the Sergeant had seen fit to break it, and Rodgers wanted to know why. More than that, he needed his help, if possible. The man always seemed to turn up when he was needed, and maybe he could succeed where everyone else had failed.

"You know that Mr. Ash has requested no visitors," Rodgers began. He was gratified to see surprise and hurt flash briefly in the Sergeant’s eyes. So he wasn’t all-knowing after all, was he?

"No sir, I didn’t." James stood up. "I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to trouble you."

Rodgers waved away the apology. "No, no, sit down, Sergeant James. I said he’d requested no visitors, not that he shouldn’t have any." The Sergeant dropped back into his chair. "Mr. Ash hasn’t been the same since he was injured. Frankly, I’m at my wits’ end. We all are." Rodgers looked directly at the sergeant.

"I suspected as much, sir, begging your pardon." James’s eyes met his commander’s. "I’ve written more than once myself. Of course it’s not my place to trouble him further, and I wouldn’t, sir, if it weren’t for Mulley’s wedding. You see, Mulley put it off once already, while the Lieutenant was in hospital, and I shouldn’t like to see him do it again."

"I see," Rodgers replied. He had received his own invitation by that morning’s post. It was common knowledge that a baby would be following the wedding shortly. How like Brian not to realize the loyalty he inspired in his men, particularly in Mulley, his batman. He came suddenly to a decision. It was high time Brian got on with his life. Rodgers would take whatever help he could get toward that end. "He’s put off his own wedding, actually. Worst thing for him I shouldn’t wonder, let alone for his fiancee." He knew that by now he had crossed nearly every line between subordinate and superior, but friendship demanded no less.

The shock on Sergeant James’s face only sealed the unspoken bargain between them.

"I think going to visit him would be a capital idea. I’d be glad to speak to his aunt for you, Sergeant, if you’d prefer." He scribbled an address and exchange on a slip of paper on his cluttered desk and handed it to Sergeant James.

James stood up and took the piece of paper. "I’d appreciate that, sir. Thank you." He turned to go.

"Sergeant--"

"Sir?"

"How are you planning to get there, if you don’t mind my asking? I’d like to let her know when to expect you."

James smiled. "I’ve got a motorbike and some petrol sir. A certain sergeant at the motor pool owed me a favor. I could be up there by midafternoon, I think."

"Very well, Sergeant," Rodgers said. He met the pale eyes for a moment. "Thank you."

Sergeant James smiled, saluted, and left.

*** ***

The noise of the motorbike precluded conversation. Sergeant James was glad of it, because it gave him time to think. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d pulled into Mr. Ash’s aunt’s quiet front yard, and what Major Rodgers had said--and not said--worried him. The man he had met by the fire had indeed been quite different from the Lieutenant Ash he had been proud to serve under. James had allowed his real discomfort at being in a place he didn’t belong cover the shock he felt at Mr. Ash’s appearance. The scars on his face and hand had been the least of it. Ash was old. Beaten. The sight had rocked James’s world.

All social distance gone, Mr. Ash had treated him as an old friend. He’d even attempted to offer James a cigarette, forgetting that his sergeant had never smoked. Never, since the first day they’d met had Mr. Ash seemed more like one of his men than his CO. James had taken a deep breath and presumed, all but ordering Mr. Ash to the pub they were now riding toward. James had marked it in his mind on the way through town, and was now glad he had. They needed time, and a place as far from the world they had shared as possible if James was to find the man he’d served under and bring him back to himself. He had no doubt now why Major Rodgers had all but sent him here.

The moment James had seen Mr. Ash the trouble had been obvious. The man was adrift, and was being allowed to remain so. He was treated as an invalid, and so he had become one. A simple trip to the pub had become a journey beyond his strength. James had done the only thing he could think of, something it seemed no one else had. There was more right with Mr. Ash than there was wrong, but he was dwelling on the terrible hurt that had been done him. The very house reeked of self pity and depression. How long had it been since Mr. Ash had been out of it, save to see the doctor?

He pulled up in front of the pub and forced himself not to offer help as Mr. Ash struggled to get his bad leg over the back of the cycle.

At this hour, the pub was practically empty. A few men were having a late lunch, but that was it. The watery sunshine shone through the windows and glinted off the dark wood of tables and panelled walls.

"What’ll you have, sir?" James strode up to the bar.

"A pint would be fine."

Soon they were seated at a table, drinks in front of them and the greeting of the publican ringing in their ears. James racked his brain for something to say before the silence could become oppressive. "Nice friendly looking place, this," he managed.

"Oh, it’s all right," Brian returned. He looked around the room and realized just how long it had been since he’d seen anything but the interior of Aunt Do-Do’s cottage. Gratitude flooded him as he looked into the eyes of the man across from him, eyes that held not a trace of pity. He took a drink, hoping the Sergeant hadn’t seen. "So why are you wasting your hard-earned day off on me?" He smiled, hoping it took the sting out of the blunt question.

"I told you, sir. I wanted to see how you were keeping. No one’s heard a word from you since you came up here."

Ash looked away. "There’s no need to call me "sir" any more. I expect I’ll be discharged soon enough."

James shook his head, his lips quirked in a small exasperated smile. "None of us get off that easy, sir."

"So how is the Section now?" It was a question Ash had been burning to ask. Ivor had deflected most of his questions about the company. He supposed it was to spare him any unpleasant shocks, but he was heartily sick of being treated like bone china.

"Oh, Mr. Carter-Brown’s doing well enough, sir." James smiled. "But he knows the job. He got proper training, after all, not just thrown straight into it the way you were."

A smile touched Ash's lips as well at the memory. When he’d joined 97 Company, he'd been told he was to be attached to another Section until he'd learned the ropes, so to speak. The Company had been desperately short-handed, though, and he had been given command of 347 Section on his first day there. Aside from a short conversation with a fellow officer, he’d had no training at all in how to defuse a bomb. Sergeant James had talked him through the process. He'd been sure he was going to die then and there. After it was over, he’d been violently ill into someone's flowerbed.

James spoke again, as if he knew Ash's thoughts. "It's not the same, sir, not with you gone. The lads miss you, and we've all been wondering how you were keeping."

"As you see," Ash answered shortly as he was pulled back to the present. "Not fit enough to work, but at least most of my bits are still in the right place."

"Oh, you don't look so bad to me, sir." Sergeant James took a drink.

"Not you too, sergeant?" Ash felt his anger rise. God, how he hated being humored! For a moment, he’d thought that perhaps Sergeant James would understand that.

James knew his officer well enough to know the warning signals. He’d never seen Mr. Ash’s temper so close to the surface before. "Since things have quieted, we can get to the lower priority jobs." James decided to go with his instincts and risk a burst of temper. "We all hoped they were waiting for you to get back on your feet."

Ash laughed, a sharp, mirthless sound. "I doubt it. Look at me. Would you put me back to my old job? They’re just waiting to see how far I’ll recover before chucking me out."

James gave Ash a look that made him instantly ashamed of himself. It was the same look he’d seen used on lazy sappers, or on Wilkins when he’d gone too far.

"Who’s been telling you that, sir?" James said gently.

How did the man do that, Ash wondered? He felt about an inch high, but at the same time cared for in a way that did not bring pain. He realized suddenly that James really meant it. He really did expect him to get better.

"No one." Ash looked at the tabletop for a moment, before pride forced him to raise his eyes. "No one’s been telling me anything much, you see. They’ve just been telling me not to worry, just to concentrate on getting better. Well I’m not getting any better, and they all know it." He looked out the window, unable to meet his former sergeant’s eyes any more. "I wish they’d just get it over with, so I could get on with my life."

James looked at Ash, and his lips quirked upward. "I meant what I said. You don’t look too bad to me, sir. And you’re damned lucky. It takes a long time to come back from being blown up." The truth, then, as he knew it. James could see that nothing else would do. It was a wonder to him sometimes, how each man differed in what he needed. What kept one working would not do for another. Generally they told you what you needed to know if you listened. Mr. Ash was no different. James had no wish to be an officer and no wish for a greater understanding of their world. At times like these he was fairly sure he’d find their reasons lacking. What he could do though, was to talk to the officer he’d known. That was what Major Rodgers had sent him to do, after all. "How far can you walk, sir?"

"What?" The question made no sense to Brian.

"How far can you walk, sir?" James repeated. "Are you allowed to walk?"

"Not very far," Brian said irritably. "Yes, I’m allowed to walk, but I’ll never do it without this damned cane."

"I don’t know about that, sir, but I know that you look as if you’re not getting enough fresh air for someone who’s in the country. Away, now." James reached for his glass and finished his drink.

Ash just stared at James. "Surely you’re not serious."

James nodded. "Have you found out what your leg will take, sir? Or have you just been going round and round that house?"

"There’s really nowhere else to go, sergeant." The shape of his days revealed itself to Ash. He had been rattling around in that house like a ghost, filling the time between doctor visits with whiskey and self-pity. He was suddenly consumed with shame, and with it, anger. Why couldn’t they all just leave him alone? He’d asked for it, begged for it, from the beginning.

"Fine." Ash stood up and picked up his cane. If Sergeant James wanted to see the extent of his injury then fine. Perhaps then he’d understand. He thumped out of the pub ahead of his tormentor.

The late afternoon was pleasant enough, but Ash saw none of it. He walked determinedly down the road until a path broke away from it and headed across the fields. He started down it. His leg was already beginning to hurt. The beer had only blunted it a bit. He refused to let Sergeant James know that, and kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked.

James walked beside his officer, waiting for him to walk the anger out, or at least the words. The fragility and bursts of temper were only a mask for the despair and shame that clung to him like a winding sheet. It was a side of Mr. Ash he had never seen before, and with some instinct he could see how the inactivity only fed it. If it were allowed to continue, it would consume him. The only real cure was to get him back to some useful employment, and that was well beyond the control of a sergeant. He found himself wondering, would they really discharge Mr. Ash like that?

Ash brought his reverie to a halt when he stepped in a hole and twisted his leg. James caught him as he began to fall and eased him down onto the ground. Ash’s face was twisted in pain, but he didn’t make a sound.

"Sir?" James knelt down beside Ash, moving carefully.

"I’ll be fine--in a moment." Ash fought down the pain. He straightened his leg slowly, willing it to stop enough so he could hobble back to the road.

James looked around. There was a small grove of trees close by, and a few others scattered across the field. The path wound through them. It would be easy enough to bring the motorbike down here.

Ash was struggling to his feet. He stood, leaning heavily on the cane and turned back the way they had come.

"Can you make it to the trees, sir?"

"I’d rather go home, thank you sergeant."

The ice in Ash’s voice chilled Sergeant James to the heart. "You’ll have to stay somewhere till I can get the motorbike, sir."

Ash shook his head. "I can make it back."

James drew a breath, hating what he had to do. "No sir, you can’t."

"Are you a doctor, Sergeant James, or just insubordinate?"

"Can I take a look at it, sir?" It was the last question James wanted to ask. "I wouldn’t let any of the Section walk on a leg like that without looking at it. I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you hurt yourself further."

Ash shot a venomous look at James, but he allowed himself to be helped to the trees and propped up against one.

James gently rolled up Ash’s trouser leg. The knee was swelling slightly under the scars. "I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have suggested this. I’ll get my bike and get us out of here.

"It’s fine," Ash said. "Really. Just let me sit for a bit." He looked his sergeant straight in the eye. "I just put a foot wrong. It does that all the time. It should be fine in half an hour or so." And a good stiff drink, he added to himself. "I’ve never walked this far before." He looked around him, seeing the clean beauty of the fields as he hadn’t before. As usual, Sergeant James had given him what he needed, or as much of it as anyone could now.

James pulled a flask from his jacket and handed it to Ash. Ash smiled as he took it, and suddenly they were both smiling like conspirators. They shared the whiskey between them for several silent moments.

"I’m sorry, sergeant," Ash said. "I shouldn't have taken my temper out on you like that."

"No need, sir. I brought you out here and I gave as good as I got."

"You’re the only one who has, lately." Ash pulled his cigarette case from a pocket.

"I suspected that, sir." James chuckled. "They've all been very gentle with you I expect."

Ash exhaled a long stream of smoke. "Yes, and it's driving me mad!" He sat silent for a moment. "I just want to get back to work."

"We’re hurting for officers, sir. Carter-Brown will likely be posted overseas soon."

Ash grinned suddenly. "Are we?" He flexed his leg slightly, pleased that the pain had settled to a manageable level. "Well, perhaps they’ll have no choice then. Running was never much use in bomb disposal, but I think I could get up and down a ladder well enough in time."

Sergeant James was silent for a long moment. "You came through it, sir, better than anyone could have expected." He took a long pull from the flask. "I’m glad we didn’t lose you."

Ash took the flask as it was handed to him. "No. Just Lieutenant Brinkley." He took a drink.

"Brinkley took his chances like the rest of us, sir." James looked out across the darkening fields as he remembered the lad who had started as a private, a conscientious objector, and had made lieutenant before he died defusing British mines.

"It should have been me."

James whipped around to stare at Ash. "What? How can you say a thing like that?"

Ash looked at the ground. "I was in command. I was training him. If he missed something, it was my fault."

Before he could think better of it, James knelt beside Ash and raised his face till their eyes met. "That’s nonsense and you know it, sir. There’s no one in the Section who’d say a daft thing like that. You'd set them right damn quick if they did and you know it. We all of us take an equal chance. All but the officers, that is. They take the real risks. You’ve had more than your share of luck, sir." He dropped his hands quickly as he realized what he was doing. The tingle of Ash’s flesh against his ran through his body.

Ash could move again as James’s pale eyes dropped. It was more than just his gaze that held him transfixed. The heat that had run through him at the touch of the sergeant’s hands was as overwhelming as it was unexpected. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He lay a hand on James’s arm, wanting more. It had been so long since he’d allowed anyone to touch him aside from the doctors, whom he couldn’t keep away.

James shrugged the hand away gently. "You’ve got a girl, sir. And I’m no prize."

"Had a girl," Ash corrected. "But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that." Yet another piece of his heart went cold. No. He was no prize either. He remembered the last time he had seen Susan, and was once again ashamed of how he’d treated her.

"I won’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it, Mr. Ash." James said quietly. "But things have changed since the last time, haven’t they? What happened? With Mrs. Mount, I mean?"

"I sent her away." Ash was grateful for the gathering darkness as he felt a tear slip down his cheek. Surreptitiously he wiped it away, hoping James hadn’t seen. "Let’s not talk about her, all right?"

"Did she want to go, sir?"

"Does it matter? She would have done sooner or later." Ash took another pull from the flask, using the alcohol to burn away the tears. She would have, and he knew it. Sooner or later, the memory of the man he had been would not have been enough to counter the daily reality of the man he had become. He had been cruel, but in the long run, it was for the best. Better she should start over now, while the memories were mostly good. He would not have been able to stand seeing his maimed reflection in her eyes.

"Yes, it matters." James leaned back against the tree. "She’ll be back. You both went through too much together. When she comes back, I don’t want to be the thing that stands between you."

Ash chuckled. "Even if she was coming back, what passed between us has nothing to do with her."

"I doubt she’d see it that way, sir."

"Yes, I doubt she would."

James was glad to hear a hint of amusement in Ash’s voice. "Most women don’t."

"I don’t care."

James smiled into the dusk. "No, you don’t, sir. Not now. But what about later?"

"Later we could both be dead." Ash laid a gentle hand against James’s face, turning his head towards him until he could press their lips together. His bad leg collapsed under him as he tried to pivot on it, and he ended up falling heavily against the warm body beneath him.

James felt the kiss burn all the way to his groin, but as he felt the lieutenant fall, he let himself fall back, carrying Ash with him, cushioning Ash’s body with his own. The warm lips met his again, and he couldn’t hold back any more. His mouth opened helplessly, allowing a warmer tongue entry. He tangled his hands in Ash’s soft hair, ran them greedily over Ash’s back. It seemed that this was all he’d ever wanted to do, the thing he had dreamed about but had known he could never have. It was real now, and he was overcome by the passion that coursed through him. He felt Ash’s hands at the buttons of his jacket and he let them have their way, pulling first the coarse wool, and then the softer shirt aside. He groaned and drove his tongue deep into Ash’s mouth as he felt fingers glide across his bare skin.

They moved together, James’s body a shield for Ash’s against the bare ground. Slowly they worked their way through the layers of clothing till their bare bodies met. In a haze of passion James kissed his way down Ash’s neck, ran his hands over as much of the other man’s body as he could reach. When Ash rolled sideways off him, he grabbed hold and lowered him gently to the ground. By main force he managed to make himself stop, just for a moment, to let go of flesh that seemed to stick to his hands. He got to his knees.

"What’s wrong?" Ash’s voice was deeper than normal as he looked up at his former sergeant.

"Nothing, Mr. Ash," James answered as he spread their clothing on the ground. "Just making us a bit more comfortable."

Ash noticed with satisfaction that while James tried to do the job with his usual efficiency, his hands shook slightly. His hard cock poked out of his open fly-buttons. The thought ran through Ash’s mind that perhaps he wasn’t quite the sexless wreck he thought himself to be.

James didn’t trust himself to look at Ash until he had finished his task, but when he did, the soft smile on Ash’s face filled him with wonder. This was the last thing they should be doing, and the last place they should be doing it in, but the rightness of it all flowed through him. He helped Ash onto the makeshift pallet he had made and took him in his arms again.

All thought fled. The soft noises Ash made as he ran his hands down his back stole his reason. He reached inside the open waistband of Ash’s trousers, pressing into the firm buttocks. Roughly he pulled them forward, gasping as their groins met. He pushed the other man’s trousers down, then let go long enough to push his own trousers over his hips before pulling their bodies together again. He thrust forward into hips that met and matched him, falling into a rhythm. The sound of their hoarse breathing filled the small grove.

As he felt himself reaching the point of no return, James slid down Ash’s body. He took great mouthfuls of the warm flesh, feasting on the smoothly muscled chest, the tight abdomen. His arms went around Ash as he pulled his lover to his greedy mouth. Though he was caught in the moment, some part of his mind knew that this was a precious experience, never to be repeated and likely never to be equaled. He meant to have it to the full. All of the things he’d wanted to do, all the thoughts he hadn’t been able to stop before they had formed fully in his mind surged to his tongue, to his eager fingers. Beneath him the slim officer writhed as he received the loving assault.

Ash felt James’s lips close around his cock. The incredible heat of his mouth, the velvet softness of his tongue wrung a groan from him. He was surrounded by it, and by the arms that went around his hips, pulling him closer still. That was his last conscious thought before the pleasure took him.

James wrapped his hand around the base of Ash’s cock as he came, and let the semen run down over it before taking himself in hand. He buried his face in Ash’s stomach, inhaling deeply of the other man’s scent. His hand tightened as he felt his cock grow even harder, if that were possible. He wanted nothing more than to slide up, to bury himself in that warm flesh, but knew there were limits even to this dream. There were limits to his own endurance as well. He slid an arm out from under the small of Ash’s back and lay on his back, the cool of the grass soothing against his hot flesh.

Ash rolled onto his side. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of his former sergeant lost in passion. There was little of the calm, competent presence that he’d grown used to having at his back here now. The strong, delicate hands, so at odds with the rough exterior, were sliding up and down his cock, soaked with Ash’s come. He saw now just how much was hidden by the bulky uniform. Under it, James was fine-boned and well formed. His soft noises as he pleasured himself set Ash’s own cock stirring again. He closed his eyes briefly as the fire began to race through him, reveling in feelings he had thought dead.

James started as he felt another hand gently cup his balls. He opened his eyes to see Ash smiling down at him. As the hand moved upward, joining his own on his cock, and soft lips came down on his, he felt himself topple over the edge. He threw his head back as he came, a cry bursting from his lips. He gasped in great lungfuls of air, the coolness of it balm to the heat that consumed him.

When he came back to himself, Ash was pressed against his side. He sighed as a gentle hand stroked his cheek, pushed the hair back from his forehead. A hard cock stabbed into his thigh. He turned his head to look at Ash. The officer he had known looked back. The face was marked by his passage through the fire, true, but the darkness that had filled those eyes was less now. James rolled onto his side and met them.

"You didn’t have to do that," Ash said. He smiled softly, his tone softening the words as well.

James chuckled and stroked the scarred cheek. "Ah, but didn’t I?" He smiled. "I knew I’d never get a better chance, sir."

Ash sighed, still smiling. "Must you call me sir? Surely you know my name by now, William."

"Aye, Brian, I know your name," James replied. "But I’ve never been called aught but Sergeant, or Billy. And I’d hate to slip up in front of the lads."

"You wouldn’t," Ash answered. "But I hardly pictured you as Billy."

"You never pictured me as anything but Sergeant James, at least not till now."

"Then I was a fool." The gentle hand ran around his jaw. "Billy, then?"

"If ye like." If the truth were known, James hardly cared. After today, it wouldn’t matter. He leaned forward and claimed Ash’s mouth again. He slid forward, pressed their bodies together as the kiss deepened. Neither of them noticed the cold, or that night had truly fallen as they moved together. The heat they shared between them was more than enough.

James knew that it was past time to take Ash home, and to get back on the road to London himself, but for once in his life, he didn’t care. For his whole career he had done what was expected of him. Tonight, he would do what he pleased. He pulled back slightly. Ash was caressing him, long strokes up his back and sides. He could hear their hoarse breathing in the quiet of the wood. Ash moved in his arms slightly, and their hard cocks met. He groaned with the pleasure of it and let his lover roll him onto his back.

"I want you, Billy," Ash’s voice was low, crawling down James’s spine. His fingers followed in its path. "But I don’t have to, if you’d rather not--"

"I’m yours, Brian," James answered, putting a gentle finger on Ash’s mouth. "All you ever had to do was ask." He sat up and unlaced his boots, let his lover pull his trousers the rest of the way off. There was no point in telling him how many nights he’d lain awake, trying not to think of being deep inside Ash, or taking Ash inside himself. He gasped as those wonderful hands ran back up his legs, along the insides of his thighs. He did as they directed, making room for the other man to lie between them. He could feel how stiffly Ash moved, his bad leg hampering him, but he let him have his way as he learned how to cope with his new limitations.

"Oh!" James cried out with surprise and pleasure as fingers slick with what had to be saliva slid slowly inside his body. In the back of his mind he realized that he'd misjudged this man, taken his boyish manner and initial bewilderment with Army life for inexperience with other matters. The fingers moved deeper, touched the core of him with pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

Ash smiled as he heard his name mixed with other, more primal sounds. He kissed and bit at thighs that opened to his touch, as did the sergeant's body.

It was more difficult than it should have been, but Ash managed to withdraw and scoot himself up to James's head with only a few unpleasant twinges from his leg. He rubbed his hard cock against lips that opened eagerly to take it in.

"God--Billy--if you keep doing that…"

James reluctantly let Ash go, leaving him glistening. He scooted up, not wanting his lover to have to make the painful trip back down the length of him. "Can’t have that, now can we?" The taste of Ash still lingered in his mouth as he wrapped his legs around him. "Come on, Brian."

Ash carefully stretched his bad leg out straight behind him and balanced himself on his other knee. "I-I don’t know if I can manage." The admission hurt more than he thought it would. But James smiled up at him and the kindness and love in his gaze took away some of the pain.

"We both know better than that, Brian." James got to his knees.

"But I want to see your face."

"I want to see yours," James answered. "But I want you so much I don’t care how I have you."

Ash smiled, the shy little smile that had always made him appear younger than he was. "I wish I’d known that before the accident. "

James smiled back. "If I’d known you were interested, we never would have gotten any work done, now would we? I’d have never let you out of the billet."

Ash laughed. The idea was absurd and they both knew it, but he went along as he always had when Sergeant James was feeling playful. "I can just see Mrs. Baker’s face."

"Or Norma’s." James leaned forward and Ash’s laugh turned to a gasp as he felt himself enveloped in that warm mouth again. When James offered himself again, there was no hesitation.

Ash guided himself slowly into the willing flesh, holding back, giving James time to accept his length. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No sir--" It was all James could get out as he was slowly breached. He concentrated on relaxing, felt the initial pain turning to pleasure. He felt Ash reach around, grasp his hardening cock. "Oh yes...please..." He fell forward, pillowing his head on his folded arms and gave himself up to the pleasure that increased with every thrust. His insides felt liquid now, the hand in front and the cock impaling him from behind becoming one overwhelming force. It was better than he could have dreamed. It was his world and he willed it to go on and on, strove to forget that it couldn’t last. He felt Ash’s movements become less controlled and he rocked back onto him as Ash thrust one final time. His world fractured as he fell into his release.

Somehow, James managed to stay on his knees, holding the weight of Ash as he collapsed against his back. The blood pounded in his ears, the aftermath of pleasure sent tremors through him. He felt Ash’s heavy breath in his ear. As reason returned, he stayed rock steady, waiting for Ash to recover, praying they hadn’t damaged his leg any further.

At last Ash collapsed on his side in the grass. James felt like joining him, but he found his discarded trousers and folded them, then placed them under Ash’s head. As he did so, Ash reached out and pulled him close.

"You don’t need to--"

"Hush." James lay down and wrapped his arms around Ash. The solid presence in his arms was the deepest comfort he’d ever known. He would happily lie here for the rest of his days. He let himself drift. Just a moment, and he’d get up and get Mr. Ash home, get himself back to London.

It was the cold that woke him. Ash still lay curled up against him, snoring faintly. He stirred as James sat up. Twinges ran through him as stiff muscles were forced to move. He got up anyway and began to gather their fallen clothes. He shivered into his trousers and boots as he came to them. Ash woke as he gently laid a jacket over him.

"Damn! How long have we been out here?" Ash wiggled into his trousers and took the shirt James handed him.

James turned his wrist back and forth till he got enough light to read his watch by. "It’s nearly midnight."

"Oh God, Do Do will be frantic!" Ash redoubled his efforts to get dressed.

"I think every once in a while, a man has a right to take his time getting home," James said as he buttoned his shirt. He shrugged into his jacket. "I’ll go and get the motorbike and we’ll have you there in no time." All was as it had always been. He knew in his heart that there could be no other way, that the night would have to end.

"No, wait." Ash cursed himself for being so abrupt. "A little longer won’t make it any worse. For all we know, she’s already in bed." The thought of his lonely bedroom was loathsome compared with the freshness of the night air, the company of someone from his old life. "I wish we could sleep here all night, Billy."

"Far too cold for that--Brian." James savored the sound of his first name on Ash’s tongue.

Ash heard the hesitation in his sergeant’s voice. "Unless you’ve got to get back to London, that is--" Wherever they stood with each other now, he vowed not to be a burden to James as he was to so many others.

"London will be there tomorrow." James hesitated again, then spoke plainly. "I probably won’t be seeing you like this again for a long, long time." He finished pulling his clothes together and sat on the ground next to Ash. "If I had my way I’d go back, get some real leave and come straight back here."

Ash chuckled. "Ivor and Carter-Brown would have a fit. And we’re both a little old to run away from home."

"Aye, we are." And you have a woman waiting, he thought. One that will do far more for you than the occasional visits of a middle-aged sergeant.

"Is it wrong to want to?"

James smiled into the dark. "Ah, no. Just fraught with danger."

"We’ve been in danger since the day I met you, so nothing’s changed." Ash lit a cigarette.

"Everything’s changed." The words were out before he thought.

"I put you in a terrible position," Ash answered. "I’m sorry for that. But not for any of the rest of it. We can forget it ever happened if you like." It was the last thing he wanted, and until that moment, it had seemed the last thing on James’s mind.

"No, of course not, Brian." James’s answer was as swift. "Tonight was all I ever wanted. And all we can ever have. I can’t forget it, and I don’t want to, and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry."

Ash pondered the idea of a Sergeant James who spoke without thinking for a moment. Perhaps everything truly had changed. "I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. But I’m glad you came to see me today. And made me take that damnable walk!"

Their laughter mingled in the quiet grove, so far from the war that still raged outside.

THE END