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The fire in the hearth was burning low, casting a faint, rust-colored glow.
Hans was laying on his stomach, one arm flung lazily across the edge of the bed, snoring softly, lips parted. Henry laid beside him on his back, awake for some time now – the morning light was nowhere to be seen yet, but there was no chance of him going back to sleep.
Because the room was thick with the scent of Hans.
It wasn’t perfume, though the faint smell of the lavender soap he often used in the bath still lingered in the air. No, it was the scent of sweat and skin, of linen damp where their bodies met, the faint leather and earth clinging to their clothes that were thrown somewhere near the foot of the bed. And underneath it all was something else, something warm, animal and intimate.
It made Henry’s throat dry.
He sat up slightly, turning toward Hans, and leaned over him, enough to press his nose into Hans’ hair, then the back of his neck, down into the line of his shoulder. The smell was different in every place. Faint salt on his neck, musk in the curve of his arm; the scent behind his ear strong and rich, like a memory of their heat from the previous evening hadn’t faded yet – the scent that shouldn’t drive him mad and make his mouth water, but it did.
Henry kissed him there, lips brushing over that spot, slow and reverent, and Hans’ breath hitched in his sleep, lighting something dark and heavy in Henry’s chest. So he kissed again, and again, and then he nuzzled into Hans’ neck, pressing his nose where the scent was the strongest, letting it fill and possess him.
It made him fell needy, made him almost whimper as he felt his cock stir just from the smell and the memory of Hans beneath him – hands gripping, back arched, gasps coming short and quick. Henry inhaled again, reverent, need blooming in his blood and spreading warmth like wine.
Hans stirred, exhaling slowly, slightly turning around enough to look at Henry, gaze still heavy with sleep.
“Awake and ready, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice sleep-rough and teasing.
Henry didn’t answer, breathing deeper, face still pressed into the warmth of Hans’ skin, mouthing it enough to taste the salt. He gripped the sheets to keep himself from reaching out and dragging Hans under him again.
Hans turned toward Henry, fully facing him, swinging his leg over Henry’s thigh, and Henry immediately buried his nose into the hollow of Hans’ throat.
“…Still not tired of me?” Hans asked, barely above a whisper.
At last, Henry spoke, against Hans’ skin, not lifting his head for a moment, “Never.”
Hans smiled – Henry felt it more than saw it – as he nuzzled into Henry’s hair. “You like how I smell.”
It wasn’t a question, and Henry didn’t feel the need to deny it. Instead, he breathed in again, deep and loud, and let the shudder take over his body, giving him away.
“I can smell you on me,” he whispered, a brush of his lips sending goosebumps across Hans’ skin. “Always. No matter where I go. It’s like you’re everywhere.”
Hans didn’t speak for a moment – just embraced Henry with one arm, pulling him closer, chest to chest, skin slick where the sweat of sleep hadn’t dried.
Then, he said softly, “I like that.”
Henry closed his eyes, pressing his mouth just beneath Hans’ jaw, breathing him in and letting it burn through him like a fever. He lifted his head, pulling away far enough to look Hans in the eyes – and was met with gaze full of heat, despite the still lingering sleepines; pupils wide, lips parted. Hans' hand slid from Henry’s neck to his waist, fingertips grazing skin in feather-like touches, asking a silent question.
And Henry answered, desire surging through him and making his blood boil.
He shifter over, gently pushing Hans onto his back; Hans spread his legs, and Henry settled between them, breath catching the moment their hips aligned. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Hans throat, grinding his hips down just enough to make them both gasp. Their skin slid together, hot, tacky and sticky with heat, their cocks brushed, slick already, half-hard and rising quickly, and Henry bit him slightly as heat flushed through his gut, wild and uncontrollable. He licked the place he bit, tasting salt and heat, inhaling deeply and greedily, the scent of sweat and skin making his head spin.
“You’re insatiable,” Hans whispered, breath stuttering.
Henry bit him again, more rough, then slid lower, licking down Hans’ chest, following with his nose the places where sweat was drying in thin, salty streaks. He couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop pressing his face against the heat, inhaling like a man starving for air. He kissed, licked and nuzzled every inch he could find. He stopped beneath Hans’ ribs, breathing deep like the scent could feed him as he gently sank his teeth into Hans’ side; he wanted to consume him whole.
Hans shivered and moaned, quiet but desperate, head pressed into the pillow as Henry dragged his nose down the trail of soft hair down Hans’ belly. “You are going to kill me like this.”
“No,” Henry said, voice low and raw. “I’m going to fuck you like this.”
Hans made a sound that sounded something like a whimper, shifting and opening his legs wider in invitation, want obvious and plain in every inch of him – skin flushed, cock hard and leaking. Henry moved lower, tongue tracing the sweat on Hans’ hip and down his thigh. He licked along the crease where leg met groin, where his scent was the thickest and made his cock twitch almost painfully.
“God, Hans,” Henry rasped, nuzzling against the skin. “You smell like everything I want.”
Hans moaned again, barely holding still now, and Henry felt like he was on fire. He groaned, low and desperate, rubbing his cheek along Hans’ inner thigh like a dog in heat, then slid lower, pressing his face against Hans’ cock and inhaling like he could brand the scent inside his lungs.
“Fuck–” Hans buckled his hips, startled. “You really– Good God, Henry–”
Henry licked along the base of Hans’ cock, slow and reverent, the tip of his tongue catching every drop of sweat and slick, feeling like it was the finest thing he has ever tasted. He moaned, loud and deep, savouring each trace of salt, each pulse of arousal.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, not caring how wrecked he sounded.
He licked again, up the length now, from base to top, slow and deliberate, and then took the head into his mouth and sucked, soft at first, swirling his tongue around it. Hans jerked underneath him, hands fisting the sheets, breath hitching, gasps mixing with soft moans. The taste was sharper now, the slickness of Hans’ arousal making Henry’s mouth water. He wanted Hans with the burning need, wanted to keep him there – in his mouth, in his throat, on his tongue, deep and heavy.
Henry was painfully hard just from the taste and scent, arousal and need coiling tight in his belly. He needed to feel Hans everywhere, fill his mouth with him until he couldn’t think anymore.
Hans moaned again, louder now, legs tensing and falling open wider.
“Fuck– yes, Henry, don’t stop–”
Henry didn’t. He sucked him harder, deeper, jaw aching, eyes fluttering closed as he relaxed his throat and took more. He moved slow and steady, fucking his mouth of Hans with raw hunger that bordered on worship. He drooled around Hans, wet sounds echoing in the quiet room, and every few strokes he would pull away just to bury his nose at the base again and breath in the rich, musky heat. Hans let out a sharp, broken moan, fingers tangling in Henry’s hair, and Henry grinned, unhinged with need, swallowing him again, moving faster now; lips tight around the length, fingers wrapped around the base, drinking in Hans’ every faint thrust and twitch. He was lost in the rhythm, the scent of skin and sweat making his cock throb – he could come untouched just from this if he let himself, the taste of Hans raw and familiar and his.
Hans came suddenly, gasping breathlessly as he thrusted up desperately and hit the back of Henry’s throat, and Henry took and swallowed every drop, moaning around the weight on his tongue.
And even with Hans laying spent across the sheets, shivering and whimpering, Henry couldn’t stop. He licked the base, slow and soft, then pressed his face between Hans’ legs and breathed him in again, flushed and dizzy like a man possessed, letting the scent cling to him.
Hans was still panting, body slacked, thighs trembling when Henry climbed over him, Hans' cock twitching again despite everything as Henry mouthed his throat.
“Henry, wait–” he rasped, wriggling beneath him slightly. “I can’t–”
But it didn’t sound like a protest – more like disbelief that Henry was still hungry for him. Henry looked up at him; his mouth tasted like Hans, his nose was full of him, and he felt his body humming from their closeness.
“Yes, you can,” he whispered, dragging his length across Hans’ thigh, hard and flushed with need. “I need to be in you, need to smell you from inside. I need you to smell like me.”
Hans let out a shaky laugh mixed with a sob of something between fuck and please, pressing his legs against Henry’s waist.
“Then do it,” Hans breathed out, limbs shaking as he clung to Henry’s shoulders. “God help me, just do it, even if it kills me.”
Henry growled, sound low and deep in his throat, as he grabbed Hans by his hips, dragging him into position, then lined himself up against his entrance, still slick from the previous night, and pressed in slowly, the first tight pull of Hans around him making his whole body shake. Hans arched with a strangled cry, trembling from how oversensitive he was, fingers clawing at Henry’s shoulders.
Henry didn’t stop, moving further, achingly slow, letting every inch drag, sinking deeper into the heat. The scent of Hans’ release, slick and sweat and raw skin, was thick between their bodies, and Henry was drunk on it.
“God, you feel like heaven,” he breathed out, lowering his face to Hans’ neck again, inhaling deep. “You smell like heat. Like you’re mine.”
Hans choked on his moan, pleasure tangled with pain clear on his face, and Henry clung to his hips, grip hard enough to almost bruise.
“You are still open to me,” Henry continued softly, kissing the corner of Hans’ mouth and down his jaw, rolling his hips until he was fully buried inside him. “I want your everything. The way you sound, the way you smell.” He leaned further, lips brushing against Hans’ ear. “You drive me mad.”
He pulled out half-way and thrusted back in hard, and Hans gasped, sound breathless and broken.
“You can’t say things like that,” Hans whispered, voice shaking.
Henry pressed in deeper. “I’m not done.”
He moved, slowly picking up the pace, deeper and harder, each thrust fluid and possessing, rolling into Hans like he was trying to bury himself in him completely. Hans writhed beneath him, gasps and moans coming higher and louder, as Henry nuzzled into him, inhaling each time their hips met, dragging his mouth and nose along Hans’ jaw and throat like a dog marking its mate.
“Henry, I– I just came, I can’t–” Hans let out a broken, breathless moan, as Henry moved his hips just right, hitting that spot inside him that made his whole body shudder violently.
“You can,” Henry thrusted roughly. “You smell like you’re mine, you are mine. I want it to stay in you, leak out of you, stain the sheets–”
“Fuck–!” Hans threw his head back, legs hooking around Henry’s waist, pulling him in even deeper.
Henry found Hans’ wrists and gently pinned them above Hans’ head, lowering himself onto him, pressing their bodies almost impossibly close, skin to skin. The closeness made Hans whimper and sob, helpless beneath the weight.
“You smell like you want me,” Henry whispered, almost reverent. “Even though you’re shaking, you still want me, don’t you?”
Hans cried out, hips meeting Henry’s almost on instinct as his cock, trapped between them, dragged across Henry’s stomach with each movement. “Always.”
And with that, Henry leaned in and finally kissed him, messy, open, desperate; all teeth and tongue and heat, like he wanted to devour him. Hans arched into it, feeling himself break again under the weight of every thrust, every groan, every whispered word of want.
“Come for me,” Henry breathed, mouth again near Hans' ear, voice ragged. “Let go while I’m inside you. While you smell like me.”
And Hans did – shaking, overspent and so sensitive it obviously hurt, body convulsing, yet he moaned so loudly Henry immediately followed, sobbing into Hans’ neck, grinding in deep and coming with a low growl, his body finally collapsing under this raw and wild want.
They stayed locked together like that, panting, shivering, slick with heat and want and the unbearable scent of each other. The room smelled of sex, of sweat, of them – and Henry never wanted it to fade.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he whispered into Hans’ shoulder, soft and wrecked.
Hans gave him a breathless laugh. “God, I hope you won’t.”
Their breath still tangled, warm and damp, the sweat cooling on their skin as they laid in the tangle of limbs and sheets. Hans was the first to stir, just a bit, fingers brushing through Henry’s tangled hair, nails scratching lightly at the back of his neck.
“Well,” he coughed, trying to make his voice stop sounding raspy and cracked. “I’m not sure if you’ve just made love to me, or tried to exorcise something.”
Henry froze, dread suddenly surging through his body, feeling like he had fallen into a freezing lake. It was a joke, Henry knew that – Hans’ usual cockiness, a half-mocking, harmless jest – but he didn’t feel like laughing. He pulled back a little, just enough to look at him, worry flooding his eyes so quickly it knocked the breath out of Hans.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said, quiet and earnest. “I– I don’t know what came over me. That was too much, wasn’t it?
Hans blinked at him, startled and dazed – and huffed a breathless laugh.
“Too much?” he repeated. “Henry, I almost passed out, and my legs don’t work – I have no idea how am I supposed to see Hanush today. But it was probably the best fuck I’ve had. So no, it wasn’t too much.”
Henry smiled at him gently, not convinced at all.
“I mean, I wasn’t really gentle with you.” he swallowed, eyes searching something in Hans’ face. “I just– I wanted you so badly. You smelled like everything I’ve ever wanted, and I just couldn’t stop.”
Hans’ brows lifted, amused despite himself.
“You fucked me like you wanted to crawl inside my skin.”
Henry winced and tried to pull away, embarrassed and mortified, but Hans caught his arm and tugged him back down.
“And I liked it, you dolt,” Hans said, gentler now. “Stop looking like you’ve just murdered someone.”
Henry hesitated. “Even when I– when I said those things? About scent, and…”
Hans looked way too pleased by his embarrassment.
“I mean, sure, you sniffed me like a bloodhound,” he chuckled, eyes glinting with delight, “and you said you wanted to smell me from inside…”
Henry growled and moved to the side, hiding his face into the pillow. “I did say that, good God.”
Hans giggled, tugging at him, trying to force Henry to look at him. “But I liked you like that. I liked it – whatever that was.”
“Still,” Henry muttered into the pillow. “I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.”
Hans laughed, tired and warm. “No, you weren’t.”
Henry groaned, but the tension is his body started to ease. He turned to the side, facing Hans finally, and was met with a gaze full of tenderness, Hans' smile soft and quiet.
“You didn’t go too far,” Hans said, turning onto his side and brushing his hand across Henry’s back, touch delicate and soothing, the barest hesitation visible on his face. “It’s just… No one has ever wanted me like that before. It was… strange. But good strange.”
Henry shifted closer, pressing his forehead against Hans’, chest aching with something he couldn’t describe as he kissed Hans on the nose.
They laid there like that, the silence soft and warm like a blanket, the fire in the hearth dying out completely. They were drifting back to sleep, exhaustion and spent taking over them, Hans’ arm draped across Henry’s shoulder while Henry held his waist gently.
Then, Hans whispered, voice so quiet Henry barely heard him:
“You can do it again – whatever that was.”
Henry couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
“I plan to.”