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The sounds of victory and merriment had started to descend into a raucous cacophony when Henry saw Hans slip away from the courtyard. He wasn’t sure when he had started to keep one eye on the other man whenever he was in the vicinity. Perhaps when he had come into his employ. Only it was starting to feel as much an instinct than a duty, now. Henry soon managed to extricate himself from the throng also, a few jovial slaps on the back and shoulder as he moved. All the laughter and joy at Suchdol that evening had been hard won, and there was grief for those lost not far beneath it.
The sounds of the crowd muted as he pushed through a doorway into the castle. The corridor was deserted, only lit by the torches and moonlight outside. Still quite unfamiliar, he tried to trace the route he’d come before, eventually stumbling upon a narrow flight of stairs he recognised. He slowed as he reached the top of the stairs, turning down another dimly lit corridor to the room he was looking for. The tightness in his chest he felt on the way there suddenly dropped into his stomach, and he only hesitated for a moment before tapping lightly on the door.
“Come,” came the brisk reply.
As Henry slipped around the door, he heard a surprised “Henry – Ow!” Hans was stood, gripping the armrest of the chair he had just been sat in. He grimaced as the other hand found a spot over his ribs.
“It’s paining you more now, then?” he asked, taking a few more steps into the room.
“Yes, well you know how it goes…the thrill of battle wears off and suddenly you hurt in places you didn’t even know you could hurt.” Hans coughed out a weak laugh. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Thought you’d be enjoying the festivities. The people of Suchdol are free again, in no small part thanks to you.”
“I just wanted to see you were alright.”
“Oh, well,” Hans looked down at the floor and then met his eyes again. “I’m fine, really, Henry. Like I said, my armour took the brunt of it.” He moved around the chair, placing a stack of papers he must have been reading on the armoire at the back of the room. A few candles had been hastily lit, but there was no fire, as there had been a few nights ago. It made it feel quieter, closer.
“I could take a look at it, like I said earlier, if you want,” said Henry. Despite the lack of a fire, it didn’t feel cold.
There was a beat in which Hans didn’t reply, like he was figuring something out. “Alright then, if you’d rather be up here playing nursemaid with me, who am I to begrudge you?” He then went over to the narrow bed and started unbuttoning his doublet. The last time they had been on that bed together, Henry had done that for him.
Henry dug around absently in his pocket for the small jar he had procured earlier from one of the local women.
“Calendula,” said Henry, brandishing it in front of him.
“What?” replied Hans, muffled as he pulled his undershirt over his head.
“It’s a salve. Good for wound healing, and the like.”
“Yes Henry,” he said, lips curling, “I have had to get patched up before, despite what you may think of me, sitting pretty all my life in Rattay.”
“I wasn’t saying nothing,” he paused. “Arrow probably wouldn’t’ve hit me though.’
“Some people have all the luck,” Hans sighed.
“Or skill.”
“Hmm…maybe both.” Hans flashed a grin at him, his eyes glinting. Now stripped to the waist, Henry could see the bandages wrapped around Hans’ upper torso and over one shoulder.
“Well?” said Hans expectantly, “You’ll have to untie these for me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Henry drawled back, as he moved to sit next to him. Hans shifted so they were face-to-face, allowing Henry to locate the knot and start to pull the bandages loose. It was clear that Hans, like himself, had found time that afternoon to properly bathe, for his skin was clean with just the faint tang of sweat and the perfumes he liked to wear – woody and slightly sweet. It was enough to make Henry want to press his face into Hans’ neck and inhale. Instead, he continued working at the bandages, as Hans watched and let him.
He placed the coil of bandage down on the bed, and peeled away the square of linen covering the wound, causing Hans to wince a little. The wound was raw, with the mottled appearance of a bruise forming around it. Painful, yes, but it was a simple puncture and would heal cleanly.
“It’ll sting,” Henry warned, as he scooped up some of the salve.
“Alright,” came the quiet reply, Hans’ eyes lowered to the floor. As his fingers made contact with skin, he heard Hans inhale sharply through his nose, but he didn’t tell him to stop. He worked quickly, spreading an even layer of the medicine around the injury and refolding the linen square to replace the clean side over it. His hands went through the motions of applying the bandage again, silent and focused on the task.
“All done,” he said finally, tying off the ends of fabric. He felt Hans start a little when he spoke, as if he’d been brought out of a daze.
“Oh,” he said, looking up at him, “Thank you, Henry.”
One of Henry’s hands was still resting on Hans’ waist, and he dragged it down a little, stroking his thumb back and forth to feel the skin there. Another little inhale, and then it was nothing, no effort at all really, to close the distance between them and kiss him.
They stayed like that for a while, exchanging soft, unhurried kisses. At some point, Hans’ hand had come up to curl around the back of Henry’s neck, fingers brushing through the short hair there. The sounds of people outside had quieted, perhaps some had collapsed in a drunken stupor, or perhaps they had found a partner to retire with for the night. It warmed Henry to know that he was one of the latter.
Inevitably, as they continued, they began to touch each other with more urgency. Hans tilted his head and drew Henry’s lower lip between his teeth. Hands crept under the gaps in clothing. Henry ran his open palm over Hans’ still hose-covered thigh like he was claiming it. Without thinking, he hooked his hand underneath it and made to pull Hans over to straddle him. He felt Hans tense and let out a huff of pain.
“Oh, God- sorry,” said Henry.
Hans sighed out. “Fuck! Bloody arrow.” Then, contemplating, “How about-,” and manoeuvred around Henry to lie back on the bed. Henry followed him, folding over his body on the uninjured side and found his lips again. It was good like this the last time, and it was good now. Maybe he just had to be a bit more careful with hand placement, but he could feel his presence of mind unravelling already, as Hans gasped into their kiss and ground his hips up firmly so Henry could feel the hardness against him.
Henry pulled away and sat up, one of Han’s legs between his knees.
“I don’t want to make it worse,” he said, gesturing to the injury.
Hans flopped back on the bedding, an expression of annoyance crossing his face. “Well what are you gong to do about it, then?”
Henry held his gaze for a breath. “Stay there,” he said, using his hands to press Hans’ hips into the mattress to emphasise his point before sliding off him and standing up. He began untying the laces of his doublet, still meeting Hans’ eyes as he did so while his boldness held out. Some self-consciousness crept in as he slipped the garment off his shoulders and he looked away. He made no show of stripping off the rest of his clothes, doing so quickly and then draping them over the back of the cushioned armchair.
He looked back to find Hans still watching him intently, lips parted, as his eyes traced his body down, and then up again. He didn’t need to hear the quiet ‘Come here,’ as he was already moving to kneel on the bed as he had been. Henry found Hans’ wrists and pulled them to rest crossed above his head on the pillow.
“Is that uncomfortable?,” he asked in a low voice.
“No,” was the reply.
“Good. I want you to keep them there. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Henry supposed he could have found some scarf or belt to hold him there, but that wasn’t really where he wanted to take it. Hans’ word was good enough, and possibly as strong as any physical restraint he could find. Satisfied, he moved to undo the laces of his hose, and then peeled them down his legs before tossing them to the floor. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Hans now fully bare beneath him; flushed, expectant and wanting. There was nothing to do but kiss him again, and Hans, true to his word, simply accepted whatever Henry was going to give him.
He moved from Hans’ mouth to kiss along his cheek, then to suck on an earlobe, then to the stubble under his chin and down his neck. It was all new territory to be explored, especially given that he’d never lain with another man before this. They hadn’t the luxury of time in their last encounter, running purely on instinct and adrenaline before Henry had to run off to try and end the siege. Now they reasonably had all night, or at least until Henry was able to sneak out unnoticed. He stuck his nose in the crook of Hans’ neck and inhaled as he’d wanted to earlier; the smell familiar and masculine and overwhelming. He began to trail open-mouthed kisses down Hans’ chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat and the vibration of his low moans. Curiously, he moved across to brush his lips over a nipple, a tiny, pebbled thing compared to the women he’d bedded, only to find the other man arch into his touch and make a small, high sound at the back of his throat. Perhaps some things weren’t so different, then. He closed his mouth around it and felt the texture of it with his tongue, pulling off with a smacking, wet sound.
The lower part of Hans’ chest was covered in the bandage, so he scooted back a little and looked up to assess his work, as he might have done to a piece of steel back at the smithy. Hans still had his hands resting obediently above his head, and his chest was rising and falling like they’d been in the yard sparring. Their eyes met, Hans’ pupils blown wide, and he watched him consciously draw his lower lip between his teeth and keen his body towards him.
“Shameless bugger,” said Henry.
Hans let out a short laugh. “It’s your fault. Look at you, for fuck’s sake, you’re like a filthy dream. Your hands, and your shoulders, and your fucking mouth…telling me what to do, and then putting it all over me.”
“Yeah?” he replied, coming close and leaning over him.
“God, I want to feel it.”
“Where?” Henry breathed, close to his face. “Tell me.”
The only reply was his name said like a plea, and he relinquished by kissing him deeply. While one hand moved up to cup Han’s face, the other moved down, skimming over a thigh before encircling his cock. Hans broke their kiss at the sensation of it, foreheads still pressed together. Henry rubbed a calloused thumb on the underside of it, eliciting a shudder.
“Yes,” said Hans, catching his lips again. “Yes.”
Henry shifted back again, not wasting time, pressing a kiss onto his stomach.
“Can I move now?” asked Hans. Henry kept his head down, concealing a smirk.
“No.”
“Bastard,” Hans hissed out, and somehow it sounded close to an endearment.
Henry settled himself on his stomach, one hand steadying himself and one going back to Hans’ swollen cock. He dragged his hand up and down a few times, marvelling at the idea that the hardness was all for him. He pressed a few more kisses on his hip crease and lower stomach while he found his nerve. While he’d never been the giver in this situation, he had a broad idea of what felt good, and surely there weren’t many ways one could be objectively bad at this? He looked up at Hans again, who was gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes, body stretched out and waiting for him to continue. He looked vulnerable, and that made any hesitation Henry felt melt away. All he wanted was to make him feel as good as possible.
He started by mouthing up from the base of his cock, feeling the velvety skin and the veins underneath. When he got to the head, he darted his tongue out and licked greedily around the ridge of it, then teased at the slit, getting the first taste of his arousal. It just made him want more, so grasping him firmly in one hand, he took the head in his mouth entirely and suckled on it. Hans made a choked-off sound at this and he glanced back up. He’d turned his face into his arm, eyes scrunched shut and breathing rapidly. Henry pulled his mouth off, not going far, letting his hand fill the gap.
“Hey,” he said gently. Hans blinked his eyes open and settled a little. “You can move,” he continued, penitently. “You can touch me. Just be careful.”
Some of the tension left Hans’ body at that, and he swept his arms downwards, flexing out his fingers as he did so. One hand found Henry’s forearm on the bed, the other stroked along his cheek. Henry nuzzled into it for a moment, then caught his forefinger in his mouth and sucked.
“Christ, Henry,” Hans whined. Keeping eye contact, Henry moved back to his cock, licking around it a few times, then taking the tip in his mouth again. He dragged back a little, then formed a seal he moved down, taking him further into his mouth. He felt Hans probing at his face with his fingers, feeling how his jaw was stretched to accommodate him. Henry let out a little moan at the intimacy of it. He started to get into a rhythm, his mouth moving down to meet his hand with every upstroke. Gradually he was able to take more of him in his mouth without feeling like he was going to choke, and he increased the pace. With his free hand, he massaged along a thigh, then up to fondle at his balls. He could feel Hans trembling beneath him now, and his mouth was slick from the arousal leaking from his cock. He let his mouth rest on the tip and spat some of it down the length, allowing his hand to pump him harder. Daringly, he moved the hand on his balls back further to feel over his hole, not firmly enough to press in, but just enough to feel the give there. Hans let out a sharp cry at this, and Henry thanked God that he’d remembered to bolt the door.
“Henry- I’m close,” he stuttered.
Henry made eye contact and moaned around him by means of assent, hoping he would get the idea. It didn’t take much longer, his release dragged out of him on an upstroke with a twist of his hand. Much of the first initial spurts ended up over his lips and chin, but he managed to catch the last few by letting Hans ride out his orgasm in his mouth.
As the tension left him Henry pulled away, allowing him to recover. Needy hands pulled him up so they were face-to-face again and they kissed, Henry dipping his tongue briefly into the other man’s mouth to allow him to taste himself. He drew away slowly, their noses rubbing together a few times before he sat back again.
Hans looked almost drunk, pliant and spread out on the bed, eyelids half shut.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” he asked plainly, like he’d suggested something completely mundane.
Henry clenched his jaw, and ran his fingers down Hans’ thigh. “No. Not here, and not ‘til you’re healed. This will have to do for now.”
He moved to straddle Hans across his hips and grasped his erection in his fist, beginning to strip it steadily. He took in the man beneath him – the golden tan of his skin from bathing outdoors, the impression of muscle through the skin of his stomach. His spent cock glistening with the evidence of his release, and his solid thighs covered in soft hairs. He thought of the things they’d done together in these past few days, and the sounds he’d made during it. And he thought of the all the things they had yet to do to one another, but of which there was a tentative promise of – soon.
His hand sped up as the ache of his arousal built, Hans urging him on with roaming hands across his thighs and arse.
“Yes, Henry, come on,” he babbled. “Want you to spill all over me…that’s it.” He was soon letting out some guttural moans of his own, and spending himself in long stripes across Hans’ stomach and groin.
He sank down next to Hans, who shifted over to accommodate him on what meagre bed space was available. Managed to find a comfortable position on his stomach, a foot hooked over Hans’ leg where he lay on his back next to him. His nerves were still humming from the rush of their love-making while his mind, for once, was quiet. He felt liquid, like he could get absorbed by the sheets beneath him, and drip out onto the floor below. He turned his body a little towards the man next to him, enough to place a kiss on his shoulder and then watch him sideways from the pillow. Hans had his eyes closed, face smoothed of any expression except the subtle upward curl of his mouth. It was only one of a handful of times Henry had seen him completely devoid of his typical loud and brash demeanour. He looked peaceful.
He was half-asleep when he felt Hans rise from the bed and pad around the room. He heard the slosh of water and the rustle of fabric over skin. The footsteps came closer again and the bed dipped as Hans joined him again, pulling a thick blanket over them both. It was a welcome comfort against the sweat cooling on his skin in the darkened room. Henry turned on his side as Hans settled down, curling into him and hooking a leg over his thigh and an arm around his waist, not caring about how he might be perceived. Hans merely stroked a hand over the offending limbs, before saying quietly into the dark,
“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about earlier…about spending some time together before I am to be married. My family owns lands around Sasau, outside of Rattay. There are some dwellings there, mostly peasants who work the land. I could maybe make a case to my uncle to scout these areas, before I must take up my place more permanently in Rattay. And of course, I would take you as my sworn protector.”
“You don’t think he will see it for what it is?”
“Perhaps. But he has conspired this whole betrothal with Lord Kunstadt, and I’m sure he would prefer me to be amenable so this all goes as smoothly as possible before the rites are read.”
“So you’ll bargain your good graces for some time.”
“With any luck. If it were up to me it would be the longest damned betrothal in the history of Bohemia…but I will take what I can get. What do you think?”
“I think Hanush would never let me see the light of day again if I didn’t get you to Jitka in one piece.”
“As long as I am able to still produce heirs and sign treaties, I think he would come around.” They both let out a laugh. “So you will come with me?”
Henry looked up at his hopeful eyes. “Yes, I will,” he answered. Hans beamed at him, and Henry couldn’t stop himself smiling back. Hans’ expression slowly changed to something more hesitant, before he added,
“I would also ask that you don’t take any other lovers, at least until I am married. I wouldn’t either of course, so…,” he trailed off.
“Alright,” he replied simply.
“Really?”
"Well…yeah. Truth be told I don’t feel much like sharing you either, not until I have to.”
Hans frowned sadly at that, so Henry reached up to smooth it away with his thumb. That didn’t quite work, so he kissed him, just a comforting, chaste press of lips.
“It will be alright Hans, I promise.”
“I hope so.”
They both settled into silence, sleep not far away for either of them. The future would come for them soon, no matter how much they willed the sun to rise more slowly or the warmth of summer not to fade. All Henry was certain of was that his life was bound to his Lord’s in more ways than he ever expected, and he would honour their bond no matter the shape it might take. For now, he was glad they could be this – his closest friend, and his heart. And Hans was right, all they could do was have the courage to hope, and to live bravely – and if God’s favour should not fall upon them he knew at least, they would endure it together.