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“Well, time for me to retire for the night,” Hans says, mostly for the benefit of the last sleepy servants still in the dining hall. “Henry, please come see me before you go to bed. There's a private matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Henry feels his ears go red, because that's Hans’ code for “you won't be sleeping in your own bed tonight.”
They can't do it too often, they still have to be cautious, even though Jitka knows, and Henry is willing to bet that both Radzig and Hanush are fully aware of their relationship, too. A certain number of servants are also aware, because the walls have ears, and there's just no way it was going to remain a secret forever.
But they still have to maintain the veneer of propriety, to make sure the wrong people don't find out, or risk bringing disgrace on Hans’ family name. So they're cautious, and generally don't share a bedroom unless the castle is free of guests and only populated by the closest servants.
And, this morning, Jitka's cousins from Kunstadt finally left after visiting for two long weeks. Hans has made no secret of how desperately he wanted them to leave, and Henry is pretty sure something special might await him in Hans’ chambers.
They're the last ones awake, and Henry immediately assures the servants that he's off to bed too, and helps clear off the last wine goblets and snuff out the lanterns. None of them give him a second look as he turns towards the stairs to Hans’ room, everyone thinking mostly of sleep at this hour, and even the night guard outside barely acknowledging him.
Henry is pretty sure he won't be getting much sleep, though.
He enters Hans’ room without knocking, closing and locking the door firmly behind him. The lights are dim, and it takes a moment for Henry to realize that Hans looks different. He's leaning against a wall, hands tucked behind his back, and wearing what looks like a simple workman's tunic, short hose and thinly worn shoes. It might be something from Henry's own pile of clothes he doesn't mind getting ruined by smithing or other dirty work, he's not sure. He's confused for all of ten seconds, until Hans steps forward, weirdly cautious, and says:
“You wanted to see me, my lord?”
Henry feels his cock go hard so fast it's giving him a head rush.
They've played this game a few times before, and it's never been anything less than mindblowing, so Henry is absolutely on board, and only needs a second to switch gears.
“Uh, yes. Yes, I did. Glad to see you so promptly.”
“Of course, my lord,” Hans says, every bit the subservient subject, apart from the obvious twinkle in his eye. “Though, forgive me, sir, I'm unsure what a simple farmhand like me might offer a fine lord such as you.”
“Oh, don't put yourself down, lad. You have plenty to offer.” Following the pretense, Henry starts taking off his clothes, putting his jacket and gloves away in Hans’ wardrobe, and sitting down on the bed to unlace his boots. “You're such a… striking young man. Surely you've been told before.”
Hans actually blushes, which makes sense. Whether he's himself or playing someone else, praise has a way of getting to him. “Not… really, my lord.”
“No? Come now, boy, I'm sure you've had your fair share of dalliances with fair maidens, eh?”
“Only a few,” Hans mutters, and Henry almost cracks, because what irony.
“I find that hard to believe,” Henry says, getting up again to put his boots away. “And what of young men like yourself?”
“Sir?”
Having put his boots aside, Henry comes over to stand in front of Hans and coax his chin up as his gaze drops to the floor. He's taller than Henry, but he's slumped down in a way that means he has to look up, and Henry feels like he might catch fire from the innocent, wide-eyed expression on Hans’ face.
“Dalliances. Secret trysts in haylofts or stolen kisses in the woods?”
“With- with other men? That's a sin, my lord, I'd never-”
“You don't have to pretend with me, sweet boy. I'm no preacher, just a sinner like you. I saw how you looked at me as we rode past.” He pauses, pondering. “Perhaps that's all you've done. Looking. Appreciating a well built man here or there.”
“I, uhm,” Hans mutters, and then gasps as Henry puts a hand on his waist, gripping him with just enough force to make it clear he has him right where he wants him.
“What luck for me, then,” Henry says, low and hoarse, his other hand trailing up Hans’ neck to cradle his jaw. “That I should be the first man to touch you.”
“My lord, I-” is all Hans gets out before Henry kisses him, pulling him in and relishing the confusion Hans is putting on. First giving in and then trying to pull away, but easily held there by Henry's grip on him, now on the back of his neck, and eventually he goes lax, shoulders dropping.
“Don't be afraid,” Henry murmurs, parting their lips just enough to speak. “I'm a benevolent lord, you know it to be true. I'd never let any harm come to you.”
“But, I'm- yes, no, of course not, sir,” Hans says breathlessly, swaying in Henry's grip.
“You don't have to worry, sweet pet. I'll show you how. All you have to do is serve your lord. Just as you've always done so well.”
“Yes, my lord.” It's a mere whisper at this point, and Hans is breathing hard. This isn't just a treat for Henry, there's a particular thrill for Hans in shedding his nobility for a night and letting someone otherwise below him take the reins. He'd confessed to Henry fairly early on in their relationship that he'd tried it once or twice with bath house wenches. But, as thrilling as it was, the knowledge that any of the girls could reveal that kind of preference to the world for enough groschen soured the experience for him somewhat.
But Henry… he trusts Henry with his very life, and this isn't remotely the only creative way they've fucked. Hans has a pretty astounding imagination, and Henry has benefitted from this more often than he can count at this point.
“Come,” Henry beckons, gently tugging Hans with him as he walks backwards towards the bed. “Easy now. I won't hurt you, I promise.”
“Yes, sir.”
They come to a stop as Henry's legs bump the edge of the bed, and he pulls Hans in for another kiss, deeper and wetter, licking at him until he's glassy-eyed and panting.
“Kneel,” Henry commands softly, and Hans lets himself be guided down on his knees with a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looks up at Henry, utterly trusting and barely putting on a performance as he waits for direction.
“Keep those lovely eyes on me.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hans offers, but his eyes twitch briefly to Henry's other hand as he starts pulling at the ties of his hose. He lets the legs fall down as they will, more focused on getting the front of his braies down without touching his straining cock too much. He's so hard and eager he's half sure he'll go off from just a brush of his hand, if he isn't careful.
“I'm sure a… creative lad like you can think of something to do with this,” he says, equally breathless as he slides his hand up to cup Hans’ cheek, thumb gently tugging at his lower lip.
“Uhm. A kiss, perhaps?” Hans suggests, eyes having dropped to Henry's cock the moment it was revealed. He looks appropriately stunned, and it takes all Henry's willpower to not just drop the game and have Hans go at him with all the skill he's built over their years together.
“Perfect. Nice and easy,” Henry coaxes, trailing off into a moan as Hans’ lips close around the very tip of him, the first drop of slick smeared between them.
“Like this, my lord?” Hans asks, hands gripping his own thighs, shaking, clearly wanting to touch, but still following the game.
“Exactly like that. Keep doing that. And whatever else you think of along the way…”
Hans nods and goes back for more, kissing the head of Henry's cock, over and over, adding a little suction and driving Henry absolutely mad.
“That's it, lad. That's it- fuck.”
“Can I-” Hans breathes between kisses. “May I touch you, my lord?”
“Of course you may. Far be it from me to discourage honest curiosity.”
From the way Hans’ hands haltingly reach upwards it's almost hard to believe he's already touched Henry in every way imaginable, and Henry sighs at the first touch to his bare hip.
Still laying kiss after kiss on him, Hans explores cautiously, hands sliding up and down, just far enough around to gently grasp a buttock and then retreat again. It's maddening but also heady in its sweetness, and Henry can't help but pet Hans’ hair in reward.
“You're doing great, my boy. I knew you'd be the right one to invite to my chambers.”
“The right one?” Hans asks with a little frown. “There were others, my lord?”
“Oh, yes. The fields and towns are full of hungry young men such as yourself. I could have had any of them. But I felt your eyes on me, and I knew you were the one. I knew you'd be gagging for it.”
As if to illustrate that fact, Hans’ eyes fall half closed, and he goes from damp kisses to slipping out his tongue for a taste, his hand finding Henry's shaft to hold it steady as he swirls his tongue around the head.
“Fuck, see? I knew it,” Henry groans, and gives Hans’ hair a little tug. “Open your mouth, sweet lad.”
Obedient in a way he never is, Hans lets his mouth fall open, and makes a startled little noise as Henry pushes forward past his lips. Hans is still holding him, so, in truth, he has all the control. But he still gags a little before shaping his mouth around the intrusion, looking up at Henry with wide, awe-stricken eyes, lips stretched obscenely around him.
“Fuuuck, I was right, gagging for it, Christ, look at you,” Henry croons, and then groans as Hans swallows what must be a significant amount of saliva. Henry might have the reputation of being hungry, but Hans will literally start drooling if he's lustful enough, and as much as Henry is playing it up, Hans really is gagging for it, ready to throw himself at Henry's cock, mouth first, any chance he gets.
“No lass ever did this for you?” Henry asks, when Hans doesn't move, and he gives a tiny shake of his head. “Even more astonishing, then, how easy this came to you. Did you imagine it, then, hm? Putting your mouth on someone? Watching other boys in the baths and wanting their pricks in you?”
Hans makes a whimpering little noise, and Henry strokes his cheek.
“Here it is, then. Take it. Please your lord.”
Another little noise, and Hans’ eyes fall shut. He breathes hard through his nose, and finally starts moving. Haltingly, at first, slowly taking in the head only, and pulling off with only the lightest suckle. Henry encourages him, petting his hair some more, and tracing the edge of his stretched lips with his other hand, and Hans slowly gets into it.
At the first real suction, Henry groans, and the hand Hans isn't using to steady Henry's cock darts down to squeeze his own through his braies.
“That's it, pet. That's it,” Henry says, straining to hold back and not fuck into Hans’ welcoming mouth.
And it really is welcoming. He's getting carried away, forgetting his part for a moment, and treating Henry's cock to a real working over. It could all very well end real soon.
“Fuck, either you're a lying little whore, or you're more of a natural than even I imagined.”
Hans pulls off with a wet sound, and stares up at Henry with wide eyes. “No, my lord, I swear, I've never- you were right. I've thought about it. Dreamed about it. About you, sir. A lot.”
“Have you, now?”
“Yes. But they were just fantasies, of course. I never dreamed that you- that I'd be worthy.”
Something in Hans’ voice sounds serious all of a sudden, and Henry pets his hair some more, eyes darting around his face for signs he might not be alright.
“Worthy of what, pet?”
“Of this. Of you. You're… strong and kind and just. Powerful and blessed. I just… work the fields. How could I ever measure up?”
“Oh. Precious boy,” Henry croons, stroking down his cheek and gently taking hold of his chin, coaxing him to look up. “You're perfect. I couldn't ask for a more handsome, more eager young lad to grace my bed. Look at me. Look at my cock. Dripping for you. I'm half undone already.”
“As am I, my lord,” Hans whispers, panting softly as he massages his own cock through his hose.
“Then have me,” Henry says, only half playing the game at this point. “Whatever you've dreamed of doing with another man, you can do with me.”
“Sir… surely you'd-”
Henry gives Hans’ chin a little shake. “Did I not just say you're perfect? Trust me, if anything you do isn't utterly thrilling to me, I'll let you know immediately.”
Hans still doesn't look convinced, so Henry helps him along, tugging him by the nape back to his still damp cock. “Whatever you want, my sweet.”
The noise Hans makes as he sucks Henry down again is what dreams are made of, and he has to reach for a bed post to not fall over.
Hans was always ridiculously good at sucking cock. Considering how he claims Henry's was the first cock he ever tasted, he's a remarkable natural talent for it, and Henry can't imagine he'll ever tire of seeing those lips around him.
It always brings him to complete ruin faster than anything else, and now that Hans is once again forgetting that they're playing a game, he's going at it with a hunger that is sure to bring Henry off within the next minute or so if he doesn't do something.
“You're so beautiful,” he groans, and Hans whimpers in response, still rubbing himself, and sucking Henry's cock like he needs it to live. “So fucking beautiful. Prettier than any lass. That sinful fucking mouth,” Henry rambles, white-knuckling the bed post as he nears his peak.
Hans clearly appreciates the lustful blabber, because he gives it his all, using all the tricks he knows to unravel Henry's composure. And it works a little too well.
“Hans- pet, prepare yourself.”
“Hm?” is all Hans gets out before Henry spills. It's unclear whether Hans was distracted by his focus on sucking cock or so deep in the fantasy that he's only pretending to be caught off guard. But at the first spurt he gags slightly, pulls away immediately, but doesn't move far at all, leaving Henry with every opportunity to reach down and feverishly stroke himself until he's painted many jagged stripes of his seed all over Hans’ face.
“My lord,” Hans breathes, tongue darting out to lick at a drop near the corner of his mouth. “I'm… I'm honored, my lord.”
“Christ, look at you,” Henry manages, panting like a spent horse. “Filthy. Filthy and perfect.”
“You think so? … sir? I'm not… soiled?”
“Oh no. No, sweet pet, you've only become more perfect to me.”
“Really?”
“Truly,” Henry assures, reaching down to stroke Hans’ cheek with a thumb, smearing the stickiness around. “God, you make me all weak. I need to sit down, now.”
And so he does, collapsing onto the bed with a groan, braies and hose dropped to his ankles.
Hans follows him, hands sliding cautiously up his thighs, his eyes trailing around Henry's face. “My lord, you… I understand that you're… that you've found release. So I'll leave if you want me to. But, if you'd be so generous… could I… finish myself off first?”
Henry shakes his head. “You tosser, lad. I told you you could do whatever you've dreamed of. That offer still stands.”
“Sir, surely-”
Cutting him off, Henry takes one of his hands, and pulls it to his soft cock, which, predictably, starts perking up again almost immediately.
“Do you not realize what you do to me, boy?” Henry murmurs, delighting in Hans’ delicate touch. “You call it an honor to be used by me. Is it such a strange notion that it would thrill me in return to be at your mercy?”
“Well. Yes. Because you're a noble. And I'm… nobody.”
“Says who? The only ones whose opinions matter right now are in this room. And I would feel truly blessed if you would use me as you see fit.”
Hans looks at him with something like awe, but also with a hint of his usual cheeky smirk pulling at his lip. “You're an odd sort of lord, aren't you?”
“And you're a perfectly average peasant, eh?”
“Apart from my… sinful predilections? Yes.” The game is forgotten for just a moment as Hans grins at him, fondling his spent cock with touch more confident than he should, and Henry would be perfectly happy if the pretending stopped there. But Hans obviously isn't done yet, and drops his gaze demurely, his grin fading.
“But clearly I'm having notions above my station when I think of my lord like this.”
“Like what? Tell me,” Henry presses, sighing as his cock fills again between Hans’ fingers.
“Like… this. Undone by my hand. And…”
“And?”
“Naked before me,” Hans whispers. “Touching me. Kissing me.”
“Is that what you want?”
Hans nods, and Henry reaches for him, cradling his dear face in his palms.
“Such simple dreams. I would be honored to make them real for you, pet,” he murmurs, and leads Hans in for a slow, searching kiss. He can feel his own cooling spend smear between them, but that's just added filth, and Henry always liked a little filth with his lovemaking.
Hans moans into the kiss and starts pulling at Henry's tunic. He parts them just long enough to pull it off, and Hans follows suit, clambering onto the bed as Henry lets himself fall back.
“Christ, sir, can I really-”
“Yes,” Henry says on a heavy moan and pulls Hans down for more kisses.
Hans can be graceful in bed, but he often isn't, letting his passion guide him to a point where he loses focus on where his limbs go, and that works in his favor now. His hands shake on the ties of his hose and braies, kicking it all off impatiently as he licks hungrily into Henry's mouth and moans when their bodies finally touch.
“My lord. God, you feel good.”
Henry can only whimper into the kisses, and reaches down to fill both of his hands, molding them around Hans’ perfect buttocks. Whether they're playing pretend or not, Henry loves times like these where all he really has to do is be there and let Hans do what he wants to him.
Perhaps it's just nice to not be the one running around and doing all the manual labor for once, or maybe it's the flattering thought that all he has to do is lie there like a lump and Hans still goes half out of his mind with lust for him. Henry never gave it much thought.
And who can do something as strenuous as think when there's a wet, eager mouth closing around his nipple, and a sword-callused hand coaxing his cock back to full mast.
“Hans,” he sighs, game mostly forgotten. At least until he looks down to find Hans grinning wickedly around a perked nipple.
“Yes? My lord Kobyla?” he whispers, and Henry's cock jumps.
He has… complicated feelings about that name, to say the least. Radzig still hasn't legitimized him, and it's unclear if he's ever going to. Hell, Henry isn't even sure he wants it.
But Hans… Hans loves playing with it, loves teasing Henry in ways both lovingly and sometimes less so. He thinks it's a slight on Radzig's part that he never even offered, and spends far more time than Henry speculating what it would change for them if Henry ever actually got elevated to nobility.
In some ways it would make Henry even more powerful than Hans, even now that he finally has his inheritance. Hans has lands and wealth, but with Radzig's name would follow connections to the royal court that a minor noble like Hans could never boast of, and some small part of him is jealous, Henry is well aware of this. But a far greater part is outraged on Henry's behalf that this power is withheld from him, whether he desires it or not.
And, on the topic of desire, Hans has also never made a secret of how much more allure he thinks it would give Henry to finally claim the title of lord. And it's infectious, is what it is. Hans’ obvious lust for Henry to seize that power and even use it on him is sometimes intoxicating, and Henry groans, hands tightening on Hans’ ass.
“Peasant,” Henry growls, and gives Hans a little smack on the ass.
“God,” Hans whimpers, hiding his face in Henry's chest. “Yes, my lord.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I am. I am a mere peasant. You tell me to do what I will with you, but what if… what if what I want is the honor of my lord making use of me? What if I can imagine no greater pleasure than my lord finding release in me?”
“Easiest thing in the world, beautiful boy. You're half way there,” Henry says, pulling Hans more on top of him and letting his cock slide luxuriously between his thighs, brushing across his hole.
“Oh, please,” Hans whines, rubbing his own cock against Henry's treasure trail. “Please my lord.”
“Sit up, sweet thing,” Henry coaxes, and groans when the full weight of Hans settles on his cock. He's still wet from spit and his release, and he could easily find his peak like this, just dragging Hans’ warm skin across himself. But Hans clearly wants more than that, and pants impatiently as Henry reaches under the bed for the little pot of grease he knows Hans placed there earlier. Trust him to never leave anything up to chance in the bedroom.
“I bet you don't need to be told what to do with this,” he says as he hands the jar over. “How many nights did you spend with lard stolen from the kitchen, hm? How many times did you dream of your lord taking you like a wench?”
Hans’ hands shake as he dips his fingers and reaches behind himself.
“Sir, please, I-”
“Dozens, I'd say. Or maybe hundreds. Yearning, hm?”
“God. Yes, I- oh, so many nights.”
“So a whore then,” Henry growls, fingers locking around Hans’ soft waist. He's rounded out with age, and it's done the opposite of quell Henry's hunger for him. “I knew it. As soon as I saw your filthy mouth, biting your lip and staring at your lord like that… I knew this is what you wanted.”
Hans only whimpers, fingering himself fast and practical with no flourish. He's clearly impatient, and Henry is entirely ready to see to his pleasure.
He plucks the jar from Hans’ shaky hand and manages to get it back to the floor, just in time for Hans to take hold of him with a slick hand, and steer him to the target.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he groans as Hans slides down, taking him easily, so used to it and delighting in it every time.
“Jesus Christ… be praised,” Hans says, breathy as he sits down, taking a moment to get used to the fullness. It's been two very long weeks. “Ohh, my lord, you feel… so good,” he whimpers, and Henry pulls at his waist, trying to push just the tiniest bit deeper.
“Perfect. Perfect, beautiful whore.”
The words are rough, but, no matter the game, Henry has never been good at keeping the sheer, death-defying love for Hans out of his voice, and filth always comes out as a caress.
“Yes, my lord. Your whore,” Hans whines as he starts to move. He's clearly done pretending he doesn't know what he's doing, and quickly sets a rapid pace. It's wonderful, but while Henry is still young, there's a limit to how fast he can come again, and Hans’ need is greater. So he reaches down to take hold of him, giving him a nice, tight fist to fuck into as he rides Henry as easily as any horse. He makes a noise so lovely and unguarded, the kind Henry loves more than anything, the kind he tucks away for himself, because no one else is lucky enough to see Hans like this, taking his pleasure, unguarded and pure.
Whatever the priests say, Henry simply cannot believe something that feels this much like a blessing could possibly be a sin.
“Here, boy,” Henry says, squeezing him. “Take what you need. Your lord wants to see you undone.”
“Ah! Y-yes. For my lord. Oh, fuck,” Hans cries softly, and shoots his spend all over Henry's chest.
“Beautiful,” Henry sighs, as he works Hans through it, and then takes his weight as he collapses on Henry like a complete lump.
Henry snorts against his hair, and gently rubs his back. “Had enough?”
“No, there's still a perfectly good cock in me. Get to work. Peasant.”
As punishment for that snark, Henry rolls them over in one move, making Hans gasp from the pull where they're still joined. “As you wish, my lord Capon,” he says with a cheeky grin, and thrusts back inside before Hans can start arguing again.
He moans instead, and his cock never even goes entirely soft before it plumps up again. He so very much loves Henry's weight on him like this, and, unlike Henry, age seems to have made no difference to his virility. He wore out many a bath maid in his youth, and sometimes Henry too. But it's a point of pride for Henry to do the same to Hans as many times as possible, and he sets a ruthless pace, cutting off any commentary Hans might have considered. As much as Henry loves their banter, right now he just wants him to feel. Wants to watch him fall apart and get what he's missed for two weeks.
God, Henry missed it too.
“Christ, look at you,” he grits out between thrusts. “So fucking… perfect. God, I love you.”
“Hal, fuck-”
“I missed you, I missed this. Missed seeing this. Hearing you. God, fuck, Hans!”
“Guh- Jesus. Henry, please, don't stop. Love you. Fuck!” Hans cries out, reaching down to stroke himself as Henry pumps into him. If any servants are close enough they'd definitely hear the obscene noises they're making, but no one cares, they're among friends, and Henry lets himself get lost in the sweet warmth of his lover, his noble brat, his fairy tale knight.
“Hans- fuck, I'm-”
“Yes!” Hans calls out with such pure joy, and splashes his warmth again, all over them both. And what can Henry do, other than follow him. Follow him anywhere. To the ends of the Earth, if need be.
They collapse together, breathing harsh breaths against each other, and Hans tucks his face into Henry's sweaty neck.
“Holy fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, and Henry kisses his shoulder.
“You see me every day.”
“I missed you here. My bed was so fucking lonely, Henry.”
“Yeah. Yeah, mine too. I was half ready to offer to go on night guard so I wouldn't have to face it.”
“Freeze your balls off on the outer baily just to avoid heartache,” Hans huffs, and pulls Henry away enough to see his face. “Now there's the tragic knight I love.”
“I'd rather leave my balls in your hands, of course.”
Hans’ laughter would be worth a full month of night guard.
“Of course. Now help me get clean, I'm not sleeping in a disgusting puddle again, Henry.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
End.