Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Spreading the News

The next morning found Will and I at the Marconi offices, scribbling out telegrams to our families. The office was filled with other customers, some dictating what they wanted sent and others waiting for replies to come in. Workers in uniforms ranging from full kits to mere shirtsleeves were hurtling around, and the constant clacking and bursts of electric noise filled the air. We were hardly noticed in a corner of the main room, using the wall as a desk to write our messages. I tried to keep my hand steady as I wrote.

Mother,
Will proposed yesterday, and I accepted. I will wire you when we depart for New York, I do not know when it will be. Please send to 98 Belmont Road, Portswood, Southampton.
I am so happy Mother, Anastasia

I looked over to try and read Will's message where he was writing next to me, but I could only make out a little from where his hands covered it. Engaged, Anastasia, very happy, visit? I shook my head, still unbelieving that I was engaged. That someday soon Will and I would be married. Last night, after dinner, we had tried to be proper, but I quickly realized that I would not need whatever nightgowns had been packed for me. Not when I had drowsily awoken in the middle of the night to Will, propped up over me on an arm as he stared down. He had moved his hips away from me, but I still felt the heat coming off of his skin, through his pajamas.

I had dragged my fingers down his chest, my voice sleepy and my mind a little fuzzy, "Will, what?"

"I'm sorry, I feel like a boy again." He had muttered, his hands brushing against my breasts. My nightgown had rucked up while I had been sleeping, and I sat up, drawing it over my head and throwing it to the floor. "Ana, God." He mumbled, letting his hands roam over me. I gave a slight hum of approval, feeling him brush his fingers over my nipples.

"Do boys often-" I was thankful for the dark in the room as I blushed, "Find themselves, like this?" I had reached down to touch the head that was pressing against his trousers.

His hips had thrust themselves forward, "Oh God, everything seemed to raise it to attention. It gets easier to control as you get older." His breathing had grown labored as I had caressed him through his pants, and he had quickly fallen against my shoulder. "Ana, you don't know how long its been since I've been like this." I had reveled in the feeling of him on me, the shuddering breaths that he let out against my skin.

"Like what?" I had whispered in his ear.

"I can't stop wanting you, I can't seem to have any control over myself." His voice had been hoarse, strained. "I never used to have to worry about waking up in the night like this. You've ruined that. I can't count the number of times I would look at those pictures and find myself like this, thinking about you, when you were in my arms. It was almost unbearable." He grunted as I dragged my fingers down his length, "Sometimes, during the day when I had nothing to do, I'd go back to your rooms in my mind. I didn't want to forget any of it, the feeling of you."

His own hand started to move between my thighs, and I had moaned at the way he had began to stroke. I tried to work my hand under his pajamas, "Will, get these off." He had impatiently thrown them off, and his shirt, and fallen back on top of me. It was rather difficult to keep stroking him as he stroked me in turn, and when he pressed a finger to my entrance, I pushed my hips forward. The feeling was still a little strange, but it quickly faded behind the pleasure it brought. It seemed we twisted around each other, our breath mingling as we strove to our completion. I pressed my lips to his ear, "I thought about you too during the nights, and I'd touch myself and try to remember how you felt."

He almost bit my shoulder at that, his teeth firm but not enough to hurt badly. "Ana, you're so wet." He murmured against my cheek, "And tight, God."

I was panting by then, pushing myself against him as I tried to set a clumsy rhythm. "Is, is that good?"