Chapter Text
When the train slowed to a stop, Ellwood woke after what must have been a few hours with his head still resting on Gaunt’s shoulder. It pleased him greatly to do such a thing; in school it may have been something he would’ve done easily with any of his friends (mostly aside from Gaunt), yet out in the world he knew it wasn’t an act suited to two gentlemen, not in public and without a loss of dignity. But one of the very few privileges brought on by their enlistment was the provided environment in which men could be physical with one another with a sense of normalcy.
After disembarking and marching the rest of the way, they arrived in the village they would be residing in. Their company was enthusiastic about the abundance of newness. The men remarked excitedly at the army brothel, and Ellwood feigned enticement when someone elbowed him conspiratorially, though mostly he was excited for the men to stop whining of their boredom with the women at the last brothel.
The officers continued on to a lovely, if slightly neglected, chateau. This was all Ellwood had been thinking of; despite his extra sleep on the train he was looking to get settled, and admittedly he was anxious to find what the sleeping arrangements would be. While he had a taste for comfort, he hoped their accommodations wouldn’t be so opulent as to provide the officers each with their own rooms. The chance of that was quite slim to start, but he fretted regardless, as he was desperate for his rooming with Gaunt not to be taken from him.
To his distinct pleasure, they were led to a plush room cloaked in hazy sunlight, with ornate drapery and softly luscious colours, suited with a dreamy window seat and a singular grand bed. Ellwood knew to measure his elation; he would still technically be expected to sleep rolled out on the floor. He had a feeling, however, that he would find his way into that bed more often than not.
This little daydream of his was affirmed in a splendid way as the orderly who had guided them began to lay out the bedroll meant for Ellwood, when Gaunt interrupted, his tone of the utmost ineffability.
“That won’t be necessary, I don’t mind sharing.”
“Very good, sir,” the orderly responded, before leaving them to their new room.
When the door shut, Ellwood’s eyes fell on Gaunt from a few feet away; his strong frame, his evocative eyes, focused stubbornly on the fabric of the bed hangings held between his pretty fingers. He wanted hopelessly for Gaunt to look back at him. Instead, Gaunt spoke, his eyes still steadily pointed downwards.
“How’s this for an army barrack?”
Ellwood didn’t bother to keep waiting for Gaunt to look at him, he simply crossed to stand beside him to make the lack of eye contact less apparent, and answered, “Splendid.”
He soothed his hungry heart by letting their shoulders meet. Gaunt didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“We shall feel like kings in here,” Gaunt foretold. It was accurate; the prospect of a bed larger than a single was a luxury in itself after what had quickly come to seem like a lifetime in wire bench bunks and frumpy cots. This bed could have come straight from heaven itself, and its perfection was only amplified by the fact that it was Gaunt’s, to be shared with him.
“Edward II and Piers Gaveston,” Ellwood said in response. A king and his favourite. How many more historical men rumoured to be lovers could Ellwood compare them to before he officially became too obvious?
“I’d better report to the colonel,” Gaunt said.
Ellwood channelled his recently well-exercised skills of letting Gaunt’s evasions roll off his back, and moved his mind ahead. He thought again of how large the bed was, how deep and lush it looked. It seemed it may have the power to transport him to a world where the ugliness of the trenches had never even been dreamed of.
“I shall take off all my clothes and writhe around on the bed,” he said, satisfied at the thought. Gaunt finally looked at him, squinting his eyes with playful reprimand.
“Don’t you dare.”
The long awaited engagement on Gaunt’s end brightened Ellwood. He smiled, played right back.
“Not until you get back, then,” he answered cheekily. Gaunt conceded a small smile as he chucked a finger affectionately under Ellwood’s chin. It was such a simple act, yet it left a blush on Ellwood as Gaunt turned and walked back out the door.
Ellwood tried to reel himself in, to shuck the simpleminded grin off his face. He wished he could stop himself from being so consumed by the minute details of his exchanges with Gaunt. It’s not like the problem in doing that hadn’t existed before, but now he feared that this thing held between them may be more fraught than ever, and getting wrapped up in analysing Gaunt mid-interaction was not going to help. He didn’t know what it all meant, how much time was left. He simply needed to soak in as much of it as he possibly could while he had it.
He sat himself in the sunny embrace of the window seat and basked in it for a while, before distracting himself with catching up on his correspondence. He wrote to Roseveare of their new arrangements and asked after business at Preshute. He missed the shiny old place, and he thought often of how his friend was managing, one of the few left in their class having yet to enlist.
He was nearing the end of an innocuous letter to his mother when the door crept open. Even in this unfamiliar building he had recognized Gaunt’s tread approaching the door, was so confident in this recognition that he hadn’t even bothered to look up when he reached the threshold. Ordinarily he would jump at an excuse to steal a look at Gaunt, but a moment saved now would be a moment relished later; he was finishing his last sentence to his mother and intended not to waste a second with Gaunt once he’d gotten it out of the way. He noticed however that Gaunt was idling there at the door, frozen in its frame. Ellwood glanced up at him quickly when he spoke, a second in which he absorbed Gaunt watching him with a serene, warm look in his eyes.
“Hallo, ghost. You haunting me?” he chaffed. This was a peculiar thing Ellwood observed from time to time, Gaunt watching him wistfully, something written on his face that Ellwood couldn’t quite read. He struggled to make sense of it, but that didn’t stop him from feeling something deep inside every time he found Gaunt staring in this way. He let the sensation wash over him as he punctuated the final sentence of his letter.
Gaunt replied, his voice kind and grounded, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He signed off with love to his mother, and finally looked up to Gaunt, his attention undivided. He had such an incredible lightness to his demeanour that Ellwood was immediately struck by it. He looked so young, so whole. Even the way he carried his body as he stepped in and shut the door behind him seemed especially unburdened; Ellwood couldn’t have possibly ignored the shift.
“Is the War over or something? You’re positively glowing.”
He lifted his book and stationary off him and placed it on the floor by the window seat, a silent beckoning for Gaunt to come to him. Delightfully, he padded across the room and sat next to Ellwood. His strong shoulders seemed to be accentuated in the sunlight, even through his clothing. There was a childlike look on his face before he spoke that suggested he himself couldn’t believe his next statement.
“We’re to stay here on Divisional Rest for three weeks.”
Ellwood’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “Three weeks!”
Gaunt’s head dropped a little towards Ellwood’s as he answered, “Yes.” The smile on his face was growing heartier now, and the way he said it felt as though they had some shared understanding between the two of them, which Ellwood supposed they did.
His mind began to unearth all the implications, the possibilities. Three weeks! Three weeks on Divisional Rest felt like an offer of a lifetime when the promise of damnation had just been looming over them, threatening to unspool at any moment. What could they make of three weeks? Scarcely any orders aside from relaxing, food that wasn’t all tinned, gauzy French sun, Gaunt. The chateau, the shared bed, the environments surrounding them yet to be discovered and walked through. Ellwood was distantly aware that it wasn’t enough, that he hungered for an eternity, but he left those feelings to burn away in the background. He would take anything he could get. He had been wondering incessantly, ‘What could we do, if we only had time?’, and now, might he find out? Three weeks exploring with Gaunt. He didn’t even know where to start, until he remembered the bed, Gaunt’s alluring presence only inches away. By now a smile so grand had spread across his own face he was sure he looked nothing short of maniacal.
“Three weeks in a four-poster bed with you,” he said mischievously, through his grin. This was one of those things Ellwood may initially have hesitated saying out of fear it might send Gaunt running, but since they began taking up with one another he had been calculatedly testing such bounds, and for some reason Gaunt never seemed to mind. He didn’t flinch at his comment, only teased Ellwood back in his own mulish way, playing at nonchalance.
“If you’re lucky. I could still make you sleep in your fleabag.”
“Not if you want to touch me,” Ellwood chided.
At this, Gaunt’s pupils seemed to dilate like his vision was coming into sharp focus. He spoke and his voice was raw, stripped bare by something.
“I do,” he said, his gaze becoming vulnerable and hungry.
In this little haven they found with each other on occasion, everything could become palpable, smooth. They had only been intimate like this for a handful of days and nights out of barely a few weeks, and at many times things still felt uneasy, but they had both begun to find a fluency in one another within it that Ellwood could only describe as profound.
He smirked, comfortable in the exchange and looking lustfully at Gaunt.
“Do you,” he said, a rhetorical examination. Gaunt swallowed hard, his breathing becoming a little pronounced already as his eyes kept darting between Ellwood’s.
Ellwood leaned forward minutely, pausing momentarily to savour the reactionary parting of Gaunt’s expectant lips. His eyes were on Ellwood’s mouth now as he quivered—just barely. Ellwood remained steady as he closed the distance between them with a kiss. He started slow, because now, he had all the time in the world. His kisses began tame and cordial, and he lifted a hand to brush and rest lightly on Gaunt’s upper arm.
Sometimes when they kissed like this, Gaunt seemed to melt in Ellwood’s hands, until he was something softer, truer. Even within the same encounters his defences would often repossess him in glimpses–never fully able to dismantle the fortress–but the pleasure of seeing him so weakened and authentic like that was irreplaceable, even if minorly interrupted.
Their lips pushed and pulled, jaws working in tandem. Gaunt habitually moved faster than Ellwood, which was something that he made a point of pushing back against. As they kissed deeply, Ellwood gripped his shoulder with one hand and cupped his head with the other, taking control of the pace of Gaunt’s body and mouth, making him take his time. He didn't relent until Gaunt’s hands were gripping desperately at his clothing, motive stuck somewhere between pulling him closer and undressing him. He decided finally to soothe the impatience Gaunt was making no effort to hide.
Ellwood gradually inched his way forward and on to Gaunt until he was straddling his hips, the kiss deepening further while their tongues curled together. Gaunt’s head was tilted up against the wall of the window seat’s nook, softly lifting on and off with dull thump’s as he rocked with Ellwood.
Their hands travelled insatiably. Ellwood’s fingers ran through Gaunt’s loose hair and gripped at the base of his head, which always made Gaunt press in deliciously close. Their chests were heaving so heavily against each other that it felt as though their lungs were trying to meld into one. The additional pounding from the heart in Ellwood’s chest spoke to how badly he wanted that; he wanted to be tied in with every facet of Gaunt, to breathe only when he did too.
He felt Gaunt beneath him, how malleable he was, despite (or perhaps because of) his hardness, his hands brushing and digging and clawing. Behaviour like this made it so easy for Ellwood to pretend Gaunt loved him back. At first he had to coax this brazen excitement out with such caution, like trying to tame a feral kitten. He thought in the beginning that maybe Gaunt may not want it or perhaps wasn’t ready; so Ellwood never pushed, not really, only beckoned for him to not be so avoidant, and left the option to back away if he so pleased. But to Ellwood’s astonishment, he had listened and stayed, and continued to do so. And now he sat beneath him, eager and of his own volition. To Ellwood, it was ecstasy.
He didn’t know long it had been since Gaunt returned to their room; it hadn’t felt like more than a few minutes, but he knew time had a tendency to pass in unusual ways when the mind was clouded by sex and lust. He couldn’t help but worry if it had been questionably long, if they had duties to report to, if someone might come looking for them. He didn’t particularly care at that moment, but he also didn’t want to be interrupted, not when Gaunt was being so pliable. He determined that perhaps Gaunt had been teased enough for now. Ellwood pressed down harder on his lap, becoming more restless himself. A fog set over his brain, forgetting reason and becoming nothing but a creature of love and heat and hunger.
Gaunt’s fingers curled into the flesh of his hips as they ground against one another. Ellwood traced his fingers tantalizingly up Gaunt’s arms, over his shoulders, and all the way back down his chest towards the very base of his abdomen. One hand snaked around Gaunt’s waist and under his clothes, fanning out on his back. They rubbed together with enough friction to shoot sparks, and Gaunt let out a sharp breath into Ellwood’s mouth, a small sound escaping the back of his throat. They shared another kiss that was more tongue than anything else before Ellwood began fluttering kisses down Gaunt’s cheek, then fervently into his neck. When Gaunt’s head tilted back all the way, Ellwood kissed his Adam's apple, and ran his tongue slowly up the column of his throat, to which Gaunt shuddered. Ellwood smiled into the kisses he continued pressing on his neck. He sucked, just enough for him to feel it without leaving marks. He nibbled a little at Gaunt’s jaw and kissed his lips again.
As they kissed, Gaunt’s hand landed on Ellwood’s chest and travelled down to his groin, pawing at him over his clothing. He realized with sudden clarity that they probably didn’t have the time or the confidence in privacy now, in the middle of the day in a new place, to have sex. At least not all the way. This was quite bothersome, but he knew now that at least they would have more time. Still, he wanted to take Gaunt, at least in some bridled way.
He tried to muster up as much self control as possible. He caught the hand Gaunt was using to stroke him over his clothing and dragged it up to his face, placing a kiss on its palm. He laced their fingers together and pulled their joined hands to his chest, leaning in to continue their kisses. It only lasted a few moments more before Gaunt pulled away again panting, and urgently uttered dizzying words that dripped with want.
“Elly, please.”
Ellwood leaned back a bit to look properly at Gaunt. His face was red and ruddy in a youthful way that reminded Ellwood of their earliest days together. His hair was mussed, and if a stranger were to have glanced at him just then they would likely describe his eyes as black, with how big the pupils were. There was a tense and pleading look in them, as if he was the one longing after Ellwood, rather than the reverse. Ellwood grinned down at him, as it was impossible not to.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” he teased. Gaunt’s timid, begging eyes let up into a pleased relief.
He kissed him again lovingly as he made his way under Gaunt’s trousers and reached for him. He gasped shakily against Ellwood while he first ran his fingertips teasingly up his frenulum, then encircled and began to stroke him in earnest. It wasn’t long before Gaunt was struggling to kiss him back. When he first let out a small strangled whimper, Ellwood unhanded and dismounted off of him, a little tauntingly, though ultimately intending to get on his knees. His fingers were still splayed amorously on Gaunt’s thighs, so he didn’t look scorned—but incredibly flustered. Ellwood didn’t mind that.
He grabbed Gaunt’s legs and dragged the bulk of him so that his calves hung off the edge of the seat. Then he was standing, bracketed by Gaunt’s knees and looking down at him. All he had to do was smirk at his wide-eyed face and reach again to the waistband of his trousers for Gaunt to understand and slide his hips forward obediently, widening the spread of his legs and putting their groins in hot contact yet again.
Ellwood stared into his eyes, which flickered away only occasionally, as he properly undid Gaunt’s trousers and pulled his length free of the binds of his clothing. He fought the urge to undress him completely— knew it would have to wait—but the want ripped through Ellwood still. He settled for bits of him poking through the undone uniform, for now.
Ellwood was just sinking to kneel when Gaunt tried to slip under his waistband, too. Gaunt’s eyebrows knitted together.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like?” Ellwood answered lightly.
“I thought I would… Why aren’t you undressing?”
Ellwood raised his eyebrows. “Want me to strip for you, Gaunto?”
Ellwood knew he was having a little too much fun playing with Gaunt. He didn’t respond, only continued to stare back at Ellwood, which he wasn't sure if he should take in a good or bad way. He added in a low voice, stepping close again, “We have time, don’t we?” Gaunt’s gaze became more flickery at this, his face seeming to be overtaken by a distinct nervousness. Ellwood could make numerous guesses as to why this comment evoked such a reaction, plenty being grounded and realistic, though many hopelessly romantic. He tried to tamp down the delusion he felt so inclined to, and aimed to move away from the topic of time, for both their sakes. He went back in to kiss Gaunt’s lips, but he ducked away in his old reserved fashion. Ellwood tried to brush past it, as he’d been growing accustomed to.
“I’ll take care of you,” were Ellwood’s next words, into his ear. He didn't bother to clarify further, only unbuttoned his collar to kiss a little lower. He then sank to his knees and braced one hand on the outside of Gaunt’s thigh, the other grazing lightly over his torso under the cover of the uniform tunic. Gaunt was restless in his seat, quietly shivering his breaths, and it was only as Ellwood’s kisses were finally working up to his most sensitive place that there was a sharp knock on the door.
They both shot to attention and looked toward the sound. There was only a brief flash of eye contact between the two of them before they both jumped up. Ellwood began frantically to straighten himself out. He suddenly was incredibly grateful to still have his clothes on. He vaguely felt that the door had a lock and Gaunt had turned it before coming to him, but he wasn’t familiar enough with this place to be sure and didn’t want to run the risk of their visitor entering uninvited if they didn't answer quick enough. He glanced for a second at Gaunt fumbling about and knew it would be another minute at the very least before he was decent. Ellwood smoothed his hair anxiously and tried to adjust himself in his trousers to conceal his situation. He ran his hands over his face and uniform as he walked toward the door, trying to take deep, measured breaths. He went to turn the handle but found it locked–which he noted for future reference–then unlocked and opened it just enough for his face to show through.
“Hayes!” he said, in a hushed voice. “Gaunt seems to be napping, I don’t want to wake him since he’s not screaming for once.”
Luckily Hayes couldn’t have seen very much with how he was holding the door, but Ellwood slinked through the small opening and shut it behind him. “What can I do for you?”
Hayes answered gruffly. “The officers are meant to meet with the Colonel to review details of some new orders; he sent me to fetch the others. I’ve no clue what the deal is, but you both better come along.”
“Oh. All right then… I’ll wake him. Downstairs?”
“Right.”
Hayes turned and retired. Ellwood found himself standing there outside the door for a few seconds. He had such a thoroughly hard time charming Hayes that it left him feeling like a madman reeling over an impossible puzzle. He got along so well with Gaunt and virtually everyone else, yet he seemed to place Ellwood somewhere between mud and scum in his regard. Ellwood tried to remember himself–stewing over this now was nonsensical and only made his frazzled state worse.
He re-entered their room and found Gaunt, situated and properly clothed, sitting back on the window seat with his legs drawn up and head against his knees. He knew with a pang that when Gaunt lifted his head again, he would have retreated back into himself. Their time of tenderness together was over, for now.
“It was just Hayes,” he stated.
Gaunt’s head rose instantly when he said the name, which Ellwood tried not to be nettled by. Their eyes didn’t meet. He cleared his throat and tried to force the brief irritation away.
“Was he looking for me?”
“No. Well, sort of; both of us really. I told him you were sleeping. We’re meant to report downstairs. He said the Colonel wanted to go over new orders, probably just informing the group of what we already know. Still, we’re expected.”
Gaunt slumped and let out an exasperated groan, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Christ, why now?”
This set Ellwood immediately into a better mood. “What, did you have something better to do?” he gently poked, a little too innocently.
At this, their gazes met again. Gaunt didn’t answer; he often failed to use his words when Ellwood flirted like this, but the shy yet mocking smirk on his face spoke for him. Ellwood smiled back, and they regarded each other in silence for a few blissful little moments.
“I guess we’d better get down there,” Ellwood said, finally.
Gaunt sighed as he stood and took a few steps over to Ellwood. Though he was indeed a bit reserved again, his demeanour still seemed notably breezier than usual.
Ellwood didn’t anticipate any affection from Gaunt at times like this, at least no more than a regular friendship might call for, but he moved in unexpectedly close and, a little clumsily, wrapped Ellwood into an embrace. “Perhaps… Later?” he whispered shyly, his head leant down against Ellwood’s neck.
The embrace wasn’t necessarily sexual, but it certainly wasn't platonic either. All that Ellwood could observe about it was that it was disarmingly tender. Not only that, but they had never outwardly planned for their entanglements. They might banter, but they were scarcely so candid outside of when they were actively shagging. Ellwood’s wires were becoming so crossed that he didn’t know how to conduct himself properly. All he did in response was stand there lamely and slowly nod his head. It was awkward and he was painfully aware that he was coming across uncomfortably, but it was like watching a disaster that he couldn't intervene on. He wanted to scream, or to tell Gaunt ‘Later, why not now and till death do us part?’, and yet, also, to jump out of his own skin. Still all he could do was wish the moment away and hope that later he would find a way to undo the damage.
Gaunt stiffened and turned to the door without looking again at Ellwood. His hand was on the doorknob.
“Well. Let's go then,” he said, his voice removed.
“Righto,” Ellwood answered, as casually as he could muster.
It would be fine. Later, later. They had time. They just needed time.