In War and Love

This is the first time I have ever written anything like this. But please enjoy :)

It had been a long day. The train from London was groaning with its brimming capacity of passengers, all of whom were sticky with the July Heat. Whether you liked the person next to you or not, you were face-to-face with them. Each time the train's horned sounded, it was like a cry of pain. Henry pulled a handkerchief from his top pocket, removed his round glasses and wiped his brow. It would be a long day. He attempted to reach one of the small windows lining the corridor, but thy were already taken three to a window, and most of them have been given to women, with flushed pink faces. He moved along the corridor further, hoping to find one of the doors out of the train open to sit at. Before he could reach one he heard shrieks, a small thud to the floor of the train and then a loud bellow "DOCTOR, we need a doctor!". Henry turned abruptly in the direction of the mumbling chaos, rolling up his sleeves in preparation.

"I'm a doctor, sir" he said calmly to the large sweating man in front of him, he looked fragile "take a seat, otherwise you will be the next patient." with that the large man, turned and stumbled away. Henry pushed his arms out into the crowd to give the young woman lying on the floor some space. They moved. She was pale and she needed some fresh air. He picked her up and pushed his way effortlessly through the crowd in the corridor, toward the front of the train.

"We need an empty compartment" he said when he approached the conductor who was sat leisurely next to a front window, all to himself.

"Are none" he chimed dismissively, he didn't even look up.

"I am a doctor, she is my patient. Now, if you want me to go to the papers with how cruelly and uncaringly the British Rail treats their passengers, it will be on the front page tomorrow. Would you deny one of the soldiers fighting for your country? I'll report your name back to my superior, he reports back to Mr Churchill himself. What's your name, Sir?" He asked, calmly and coyly.

"The cabin behind me is free sir" and with that he saluted and threw the door open.

"Much appreciated" Henry replied with a smug smile.

The woman in his arms didn't move, her eyes were still shut as if in a peaceful sleep. He entered the cabin which had a row of seats either side and an open window blowing in cool air. He placed her on the seat to the right, allowing her head the perfect position for the breeze to cool her. He then took the water decanted from around his waist and dripped some water onto rouge her lips. He then took his handkerchief back out of his pocket and wiped her forehead. She was young, she could be no older than 20. The mousy hair was clipped back into curls off her face and her outfit was prim, on fashion and hugging her figure. She was slight, with a small waist, her legs long. He wondered where she was going, what she was doing on the train, what her role was on the home front. He felt her head, it was still sticky and hot. He didn't like to, but he pulled her up to him and removed her outer jacket, taking him a while to undo all the small pearl buttons down the front.

She stirred. He placed her back down, took off his own jacket and with it folded neatly, placed it under her head. Her eyes opened and she sat up, pulling herself to the back of the cabin in shock.

"Who are you? Who undressed me?"

"I just took your jacket off" he smirked, "you fainted" she looked at him in horror, "you can thank me later" he said in his strong raspy voice as he stood up, and turned to walk out of the cabin.

"Wait" she moved forward to grab the back of his uniform, "you forgot your jacket" she threw him a light smile, with his jacket, "thank you".

Her smile was beautiful, he felt like he had never seen any one smile before her. All the others seemed so fake. She blushed, turned round for dignity and replaced her jacket too, as he did. When every button was fastened she turned around.

"Are you a doctor?" She asked with reservations.

"I am indeed, Miss" he held out his hand, "and soldier of her Majesty... Dr fields." she gave him her hand, to shake, which he ignored and kissed it instead, "call me Henry" he smiled cheekily.

"I'm Miss Varney" she tried to keep her mouth stern, "you can call me Miss Varney".

"Well Miss Varney, I shall be on my way. Now that you're fine and all. You need no further examination" He turned again to leave the cabin. The lovely, breezy, spacious cabin. He turned back,

"If you don't mind, I think I will stay. You can leave if you like, Miss Varney" He tried to keep his face smooth and serious.

"Oh, Thank God" she said with a sigh of relief, "I haven't spoken to any one properly in days!"

She eyed the soldier sat across from her. He looked like a gentleman, with a good reputation. His hair was short but curly the back and sides had been shaved short, but the loose curls on top remained. The sun was shining through the window on to its chocolate curls, making them shimmer golden. His round glasses helped his look, smart both in attire and in mental capacity. He smiled over at her. She blushed. Now she had him here, she had no idea what to say. His strong straight features were full of humour. They both burst out laughing.

"You can call me Meredith, by the way. Since you saved my life and all." She held out her hand for a proper introduction. "I could never deny a soldier of her Majesty." this time he actually shook her hand, his grip light. She felt a slight flutter of disappointment. As he sat back he stretched his legs out, his feet slid across the cabin and touched hers. Her eyes widened. She looked out of the window to avoid his gaze. She wasn't used to talking to men, certainly not older men, her father claimed she was too young, but she was nineteen soon. She didn't move her feet from his. His foot began to move slightly, rubbing hers. She could feel its touch through her red shoes. He began humming, moving his feet to the melody. He was not shy. He didn't seem so, anyway.

There was something about this man she could not understand. It was like she was drawn to him, he took all her sensibilities from her, she was like cured meat. It was not a romantic analogy but it was true, it was like the water was her sensibilities and he was the salt, drawing it out. She put her hand onto the chair next to her and felt a piece of fabric, she looked down to find a handkerchief, slightly moist from wiping her head. His initials were embroidered on, 'HF'. She held it out to him,

"Sir, this is yours I believe" it moved delicately in the breeze, he had to manoeuvre his hand to take it. As he removed it gently from her hand, he grazed her fingers with his.

"Thank you, Meredith".

He was not usually this forward, he was shy. He normally found it difficult to talk to women. He wasn't talking much now because he was nervous. He couldn't find much to say to her without it sounding ridiculous. But the language of the body, that was easier to speak with. He played with the handkerchief for a moment, guiding it through his fingers. She couldn't remove her eyes from its little show. Until he stowed it in his pocket. He looked up and caught her gazing. He moved his feet closer, acting as though he was stretching his back. Her feet didn't move away, surely that was a good sign. He cleared his throat to disperse his nerves, and acted as her doctor,

"You look a little pale, may I?" and without so much as a nod from her, he moved to her seat and placed his hand on her head, tiny beads of perspiration ran down the side of her head. He caught it with his finger. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked with concern, "Your forehead is not".

She felt his breath hit her cheek and shivered again. Her heart was pounding, it sounded like a hummingbird bashing its wings against the air, surely he could hear it? She could. She turned to him, to tell him that she was fine. But he was closer than she had thought, they were face to face, their noses divided by a hairs breadth. She couldn't move, her lips parted. Her heart continued pounding and her breathing began getting heavier.

He could hear it. This was a good sign too right? Unless she was scared? He moved closer, until the small gap separating them was closed. Their noses touched. She inhaled quickly. He found it hard to control his own breathing. She reached out to touch him, but she pulled her hand back. Without moving his eyes from hers, from her button nose, from her face, he gently caught her hand. He didn't know what to do next, but he didn't need to. She put her hand with his and guided them to his chest, she could feel his heart, beating rapidly too. He pulled her toward him with their hands and their lips touched. They didn't move for a while, just sat there, lips touching. Then she moved, he thought she was going to pull away, but she simply moved so their lips parted and touched again. He could taste her mouth, warm and sweet. He inhaled and could smell her perfume, floral. He could feel himself getting caught up in it, he felt movement in his trousers, he knew he was aroused. But she wasn't the kind of girl... He wasn't the kind of guy. He placed his other hand over his trousers to hide it, but his touch made it worse. He groaned.

She pulled back. He held a guilty expression. Why? Was he married? She looked to his hand for a ring, but his wedding finger had no ring, no band mark. She looked back at his hand, over the crotch of his trousers, there was a bulge.

"oh." is that what he wanted? She couldn't, she never had. She knew men had reputations to do that sort of thing but she couldn't. She pulled away.

"Wait" he asked quietly, he turned back to glance at the closed wooden door, "I didn't mean to. I would never presume... it just, well happens when men... y'know, find a girl beautiful."

"Found a lot of girls beautiful, have you?" she asked coldly.

"I don't know, this has never happened before... not in this situation" His eyes were big with apology. He removed his hand from his now relaxed crotch.

"Oh yes? Well, in what other situation does this happen, Mr Fields?" they sat there, the question hanging in the air, Henry turned red and flexed his hands, and realisation struck her, she was beyond embarrassed, "oh.".

He felt his trouser stir again, he always fantasised about having sex when he was alone and touching himself, but never with someone this beautiful. He thought she was anyway. He didn't even try to hide his arousal, there was no going back from this level of embarrassment. She turned back to him,

"I just, wouldn't know what to do..." she admitted, "I have never even seen... just pictures, in books". She blushed more. He tried to make her feel better,

"I haven't ever seen... well, a ladies before, not out side of work anyway. I'm a doctor, I have to see them at some point but only in a medical environment" he admitted sheepishly, "I could show you mine?"

She looked at him, horrified. She was scared. Would he assume this would lead to sex? Would it hurt? Did she want to have sex with a stranger? She thought about his question, then nodded, silently.

He looked at her for a minute to make sure, and then moved his hands to undo the first button of his trousers. Her hands were nervously rubbing together. He looked up, held her eyes on his and continued. Second button. Third button. The last button. His penis was pushing against his briefs, begging to be let free. He had never been so aroused. He suppressed a moan as he released it and the fabric loosely rubbed him. She squealed and turned her head away.

He felt ridiculous, sitting there with it out. She slowly moved her head back.

"Touch it" she requested, trying to be brave.

He didn't need another invitation. He rubbed his shaft, loosely and slowly. She looked, biting her lip in confusion of her feelings. She tingled all over. She felt the urge to touch him. He threw his head back in pleasure, breathing faster. The pace and grip of his hand increased. What should she do? She was so nervous! She pulled herself closer to him and touched his tip with one finger. He pulled his head back forward with a gasp of pleasure. She pulled her hand away in fear of doing something she shouldn't have.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

"No, you didn't" He said breathlessly with an encouraging smile, "Let me help you." He took hold of her hand wrapped it around his shaft, and moving it up and down. Much like one person helps another person to write. He began twisting their hands as well as up and down. He felt her hand begin to have its own control and he removed his, she continued to do what he had shown her. It felt so smooth, she thought, his tip was wet, which made it even easier to move her hand rapidly over his shaft. His breathing increased, she increased her speed with it. They were in sync. His tip turned a dark red and he began to quiver,

"You're doing great" he gasped out, and with that he shot out, in to her hand, shuddering. Sweat was now covering his head, dripping on to his chest under his shirt. She removed her hand and held it palm up, his load resting on her palm. Her body was throbbing with desire. She wanted him so badly but her nervousness was overcoming her. What if she did something wrong? What if he didn't like what he saw?

There was a knock at the door that made both of them jump. The conductor began to speak from behind it,

"How is the patient?"

Henry quickly buttoned up his trousers, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, straightened his glasses and opened the door.