Disclaimers:  No copyright infringement is intended.   The Desert Peach and Blackadder belong to others.

Rating:   NC17  m/m slash

Can you please send any comments on this story for Cerise, c/o Helen, who will forward them on.

 

Thoughts of Home

by Cerise

Manfred Pfirsich Marie Rommel, near to tears, was lost. He was only 17 years old and he was alone and frightened. He had been at the Front about a week and so far he understood nothing. He missed the comforting security of his home in Ulm and his Mama, but he knew what was expected of him. He had been 14 when the war started, and no-one had known that it would go on for so long that he would have to fight in it, most people had confidently expected an easy victory for the Kaiser's army.

No-one had time to explain anything, told to take a message to headquarters he had done his best, but he was now completely confused. The instructions he had received meant nothing, less so when he was trying to find his way through mud and filth. He swallowed tears, fiercely aware of what his big brother Erwin would think if he saw them, forgetting that Erwin wasn't even in France. He comforted himself with the thought of Erwin, a sturdy Lieutenant already making a name for himself. He backed slowly along the smelly trench, hoping that he was heading in the right direction.

He suddenly became aware that he had backed into someone, a person who gave an inarticulate yell. It could have been anyone, the uniform was none-too-clean, but whoever he was he said, "Jesus Christ!"

'Oh God', thought Pfirsich, 'English. You've been in the Kaiser's army one week, and you're captured by the English. What is Erwin going to say?'

With a sigh the Englishman produced a gun. "Can I remember what to do with prisoners?" he asked, as though to himself.

"Report me to HQ?" suggested Pfirsich, nervous but helpful.

"When I want your help I'll ask for it. Just my luck, I capture a prisoner and he turns out to be a know-it-all. This way."

Pfirsich was shown to a sort of office with beds round the walls. To his surprise rather than telephoning HQ his captor sat down on a bed, and lay back, one hand behind his head. "Sit down," he suggested. "What's your name?"

Pfirsich's English deserted him. "Ich heiße Manfred Pfirsich Marie Rommel. Ich bin Fähnrich."

"Edmund Blackadder, Captain. Do sit down."

Pfirsich looked round and eventually chose a box, one which looked as though it would support his weight.

"So you're German?"

"Er...jahwohl, Captain Blackadder."

"You had better give me your gun," Blackadder sighed.

Embarrassed, Pfirsich realised it had simply never occurred to him to use his gun, or even to draw it. Reluctantly he handed the weapon over, and Blackadder went on, "I can't help feeling that this is a terrible mistake. In fact this could be the biggest mistake since General Haig was put in charge of a war instead of a whelk stall."

"Captain Blackadder?" Pfirsich spoke English, but he didn't follow Blackadder.

"What you don't understand is that capturing an unexpected prisoner means forms until doomsday. Tell me, Rommel, are the men really stupid on your side as well?"

Pfirsich didn't know what to say in response that either, he looked down at the toes of his boots and wondered what would happen next.

Captain Blackadder continued to talk, "I'd offer you something to eat but I'm afraid it would poison you. It poisons me. Unless you want rat-au-vin of course."

Pfirsich really had thought he understood English, he had spent long enough studying it, but maybe he had been wrong. It looked as if he was.

"Look, I don't want a German prisoner..."

Pfirsich sighed with relief.

"Don't look like that. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you back to the place we met, and you can rejoin the Hun lines."

"Hun?" Pfirsich asked.

"German. Your lot."

"Oh. Danke, Captain Blackadder"

"You're welcome. Which is more of a welcome than your lot offered me."

"Captain Blackadder?"

"Never mind. Incidentally, do you know how blue your eyes are?"

"Captain Blackadder?" Pfirsich blinked. No-one had ever mentioned it.

"I think we can dispense with the parrot impersonation, though. Do take your coat off, we're not freezing, for once."

Rather uncertainly, Pfirsich did as Blackadder had suggested; he was rather warm, he had to admit. Blackadder smiled at him, and Pfirsich looked down, suddenly confused.

"How much more are you wearing?" demanded Blackadder. "Just how cold is it in the Hun trenches?"

"It's not too bad," protested Pfirsich, weakly.

"Which explains why you're wrapped up like a mummy. There are few times when I'm pleased to be British, but this is one of them. And don't say: 'Captain Blackadder.'"

"Very well. What would you prefer that I say?"

"How about Blackadder? And don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?" Pfirsich didn't think he was looking like anything in particular.

"Never mind. Something to drink?"

"Nein...Captain... Blackadder."

"Oh, don't be heroic for God's sake. Brandy?"

"Er...ja."

"Now," said Blackadder, "we can either use English or German, swapping from one to the other gives me a headache. English?"

"Yes, if you wish."

"Tell, me where are you from? I'm not interested, but it's something to say."

"I am from Ulm, in Baden-Württemberg." Again Pfirsich was dreadfully homesick.

"How interesting. Would you like to take your jacket off?"

Pfirsich shrugged and slipped it back over his shoulders.

"Nice shirt," Blackadder said.

"Danke...er...thank you."

Blackadder poured brandy into glasses, and handed one to Pfirsich. Pfirsich had never drunk spirits before, and he sipped slowly, trying for a suitable appreciation. He saw that Blackadder was doing the same, but he looked as if he was enjoying it. They drank in silence for a while.

"Come here," Blackadder invited, softly.

Pfirsich thought for a moment then moved to sit beside Blackadder on the bed; there simply seemed no reason why he should not. Pfirsich continued to sip his drink. He saw Blackadder watching, dark eyes on him, curiously fascinated. Pfirsich said, "You say my eyes are very...blue."

"Yes," Blackadder smiled. He held one arm out and Pfirsich accepted the offer wordlessly. In his mind his excuse to his older brother was ready, 'I was young and frightened...' Blackadder pulled him close. Pfirsich comforted himself with the thought that it was unlikely that Erwin would ask.

Pfirsich closed his eyes and rested for a moment against the comforting warmth. A soft feeling on his lips made him open his eyes again, but Blackadder smiled and the kiss was repeated. Nervous, he looked round. Blackadder said, "They've gone. They won't be back at least until tomorrow."

"Oh," Pfirsich smiled.

"Good?"

"Yes. Again?"

"If you wish." They pressed closer, Pfirsich felt Blackadder remove jacket and shirt, and cover them both with rough blankets. He wondered what he should do about his boots but Blackadder was ready enough to help, amused dark eyes were on him still. After they had been removed he felt happier for some reason, and he pressed back against Blackadder.

Blackadder rolled him onto his back, his kisses still tasted of the sweet French brandy but Pfirsich relaxed completely. He did not entirely know what he wanted but he knew that there was something just beyond his reach, and trusted that Blackadder would reach it for him.

The sweet kisses took over Pfirsich's mind, he had no idea where he was, or when. Blackadder stripped him, thoroughly and carefully. Feeling Blackadder against him he could hardly think, all he could feel was the soft/hard flesh of a man, and it seemed to him like a prayer answered.

"Oh!" Pfirsich heard Blackadder cry out. "So soft, so young." Lips made contact with his nipples, his whole body contracted with a want he now knew as lust. Involuntarily he spread his legs, exposing himself completely, and he heard Blackadder's appreciation, a wordless groan of answer.

He felt a man's fingers within him, they felt - greasy - he wondered vaguely what Blackadder was using to open him, but decided it didn't matter. This was something he had wanted for as long as he could recall, without quite knowing what it was. "Lovely," he heard Blackadder say, softly.

"What happens now?" Pfirsich asked.

"The best," Blackadder replied, seriously. "I want you."

"Do it. Do what you want." It had taken a moment for Pfirsich to translate the sentiment from a gut feeling to language and then from German to English.

It was worth it, Blackadder smiled at him his black eyes laughing. "I hope you're ready," he said.

Pfirsich didn't entirely know what was happening, Blackadder pushed his manhood inside Pfirsich, deep inside him, and Pfirsich pressed back. It hurt, a little, but it was a hurt Pfirsich wanted, a soul-deep need that almost seared him. He spread further, wanting, needing something that he had not the words for, not in any language. He knew only that he needed and trusted that his need would be fulfilled.

Blackadder covered his mouth, within his sex made Pfirsich feel complete as if only a man could fulfil him and he exulted in it. He screamed, the physical completion he achieved meaning more to him than anything at that moment.

"God, you're lovely," Blackadder said, when he could speak. "I've always wanted to get stuck into the boche." Pfirsich scowled at him. "No need to sulk, my dear. You're just a human being, though a very lovely one." He kissed Pfirsich again, his tongue exploring Pfirsich's mouth, and he felt the tip softly spread along his upper lip.

Pfirsich groaned aloud, unable to help himself. He did not want Blackadder to penetrate him again, not at once, but the anticipation, the knowing that it would happen soon - before very long - excited him beyond endurance.

 

Every step he took Pfirsich remembered something, a touch, a kiss, the way Blackadder had felt inside him. His message was late but he couldn't care; he had known a man and that face, those feelings would stay with him forever. He was breathless with the memory but unable to confide it to anyone.

Capture had been so close, but he had eluded it - or it had been eluded for him. Blackadder told him that death faced him, faced all of them, and Pfirsich would always wonder what had happened, suspecting that death had found his first lover as it had so many. Blackadder had been betrayed by his leaders, and knew betrayal while it was happening. He had been cynical and bitter and he knew that he was. Pfirsich knew he would never forget that self-mocking look Blackadder had at their last kiss on the stinking Tommy side of the trenches. The lust, the love, he had found with Blackadder was gone as suddenly as it had come, and he would search for it until the middle of another war, where it would find him as unexpectedly.

 


Please send any comments on this story to Cerise, c/o Helen who will forward them.

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