Feind [mxm]

THREE

c h a p t e r  t h r e e  |  i n f e c t i o n

William dragged in a deep breath and furrowed his eyebrows in determination. "I'd like to check your wounds for any infections," he announced.

Dieter immediately shook his head and lowered his plate. "I'll check myself."

Raising an eyebrow, William nonchalantly shrugged as best as he could manage and went over to the closet. Pulling out the first aid kit from a day ago and an additional hand mirror, he dropped them on the kitchen table. William muttered, "Suit yourself," and left to sit down on the porch outside.

After a moment, he raised a fist to his heart and shut his eyes to calm himself. The urgency of the situation had faded and left him hanging off the edge of a steep cliff, afraid of what might come next. What was he thinking? Bringing a buggering Nazi into his safe abode! Pushing away another wave of nausea, William opened the package he brought with him and started nibbling on another pastry after a long, discontented stare. They still looked, and tasted, lovely but he wasn't in any right mood to eat.

Sir Thomas whined and sniffed at his hand. William's face brightened minutely and he playfully rubbed behind the collie's ears. Smirking at the dog's pleasure-filled face, he started cooing, "Aw, who's my girl?" Sir Thomas barked and spun in a circle, inciting a chuckle from behind William. The Englishman spun around and dropped his hand automatically. Without his noticing it, the front door had peaked open and his guest was peering out cautiously.

Dieter hesitated before offering William the first-aid kit. "Could you... could you stitch my back? A wound opened," he muttered in his stiff, accented English. His jaw tightened, and he looked away in embarrassment.

William decided to ignore it. "Yeah. Let's go back inside, alright?"

Deiter began to approach one of the kitchen chairs but William shook his head. "No, you should recline on a bed for this." He turned to the guest room with his "patient" following after him. Removing his shirt and facing away from William, the German struggled to lie down from both pain and distrust. Eventually, William sat down behind him and felt relieved that the other man couldn't see his fierce blush.

Staring at the strong, muscled back before him, the Englishman carefully took the needle and thread from the kit and hunched over, clearing his mind of disruptive thoughts as he slowly began to pull the skin together. The cut he'd passed off as harmless before was bleeding quite ugly and looking a strange color. William cursed himself for not stitching it sooner; an infection was possible, even probable by now.

"Could you loosen up just a bit? It's difficult to sew resisting skin," the younger man stated as evenly as he could, his blood rushing in another direction at the minor insinuation. He tried to ignore it. As it was, it couldn't be helped that William was admiring Dieter, given how handsome and just-his-type the German was. Well, except for the German, heterosexual bit.

Thoughts of nails raking down skin and muscles tensing and hands roaming filtered through his head, and he scowled.

Forget it, Chambers. You've no chance. Nor do you truly want it. It's packed up lust from all this abstinence.

"Are you done?" the German huffed. William jerked back to attention, realizing he'd been sitting on the other man's lower legs for quite some time without moving after he'd pulled his skin together and stitched it already.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he stammered, wriggling off and tripping on the edge of the bed. Dieter looked over his shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow, which most certainly did not help his predicament. It had been—what? three years? since William's last night full of passion, since he'd left the city. William had found that small islands were very... monotone compared to the hustle and bustle of London.