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The night had long since fallen over the still-smoking ruins of Suchdol. The Devil’s Den tavern throbbed with raw, filthy joy, raucous laughter, clashing tankards, and the heavy stench of spilled ale and damp leather. In a dimly lit corner, Hans and Henry had washed up after a long day of hunting.
They were already well drunk when their unsteady steps carried them into the back room reserved for Musa's experiments. On the cluttered alchemy table, crowded with vials, open grimoires, and colorful residues, stood a small dark-glass bottle. The liquid inside was a deep golden amber. Even through the sealed cork, a faint but strangely familiar scent lingered in the air, almost exactly like the finest mead they had ever tasted. Hans stopped dead, a stupid grin spreading across his face.
« Challenge, » he slurred, pointing at the bottle. « First one to empty it wins. »
Henry narrowed his eyes, wary even through the haze of alcohol.
« Are you crazy or what? That’s Musa’s table. Could be anything. »
But Hans had already grabbed the bottle. He popped the cork with his thumb, sniffed once, and before Henry could stop him, he tipped half the contents down his throat.
« Hans! » Henry hissed, horrified. « Are you out of your mind? That could be poison! »
Hans wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes gleaming.
« Relax… Tastes exactly like mead. Musa must’ve left it for himself. Try it, you’ll see. »
Henry hesitated, glancing at the scattered manuscripts. The listed ingredients were nothing lethal, wild honey, mandrake root, musk, rose essence… Nothing that would kill them. Just something that might complicate the night.
« We should still tell Musa, » he muttered.
« Nah, you worry too much, » Hans replied, shoving the remaining bottle into his hands.
Henry sniffed. The scent was intoxicating. He wet his lips then, defeated by curiosity and drink, he downed the rest in one gulp. The taste was divine. Sweet, warm, with a spicy edge that slid down his chest like liquid fire. They stood in silence for a moment. Then the heat arrived. At first it was subtle, like a hearth fire waking in the belly. Then it grew insistent, scorching waves rolling up the spine, flushing the skin, making the air suddenly too thick, and heavy. Their shirts clung to their backs. Their hearts hammered harder, lower, everywhere.
« Wait… is it just me or is it getting fucking hot in here? » Hans growled, tugging at his collar.
Henry wiped sweat from his brow. « Same… I don’t know how I feel. Not sick. Just… too alive? »
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.
« Shit, Musa! » Henry breathed.
Without thinking, they bolted for the large supply cupboard at the back of the room. They crammed inside just in time, pulling the door shut with a muffled creak. The space was narrow, pitch-black, thick with the scent of dry wood, herbs, and dust. Hans ended up pressed directly behind Henry, chest to back, hips to hips, in a forced, far-too-intimate crush. Musa strode into the room, muttering. He froze at his table.
« Oh no… no, no, no! » he exclaimed loudly, his voice comically panicked. « I hope that little thief Hynek hasn’t stolen my aphrodisiac again! »
Inside the cupboard, the silence turned electric. Henry felt something unmistakably hard pressing against his ass. He swallowed.
« Is that your sword poking me, or are you just happy to see me? » he whispered, voice already too rough.
Hans let out a shaky breath against the back of his neck.
« I feel… so fucking good, Henry… »
And he began to move. Slowly. Instinctively. A deliberate grind of his hips against Henry’s backside.
« Stop, » Henry hissed, heart slamming against his ribs.
A loud creak. The wood of the cupboard groaned. Musa froze, head snapping toward the cabinet. He narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. He muttered one last curse at Hynek, and finally left, slamming the door behind him. Silence fell again, broken only by Hans and Henry’s ragged breathing. They stumbled out of the cupboard like guilty thieves.
« Good news, it’s not poison, » Henry said, trying to sound sensible. « But we need to be careful about the effects. » He turned to Hans, and the rest of his words died in his throat.
Hans was staring at him. Not like usual. Not like a slightly drunk brother-in-arms, but with a strange, unsettling intensity. His pupils were blown wide, black with raw hunger. His gaze slid over Henry’s face, his mouth, his throat, with an intensity that felt almost feral. Every breath seemed to cost him. His skin glistened with sweat. He looked gone. Lost. Completely swallowed by a wave of pure, amplified lust that made his hands tremble.
« Hans? Are you okay? » Henry asked, his own voice suddenly lower.
Instead of answering, Hans slowly brought a hand to his own chest, then lower, palming himself through his braies with a deep, pained moan of pleasure. Henry froze, shocked and yet shamefully, violently aroused. His own body answered with a ferocity he had never known. In one swift motion he clapped his hand over Hans’s mouth to silence him. The movement was too rough. Hans was slammed back against the nearest wall. Their bodies collided, their eyes locked, and everything shifted.
Henry felt every detail with uncanny clarity, the burning heat of Hans’s skin through the fabric, the solid tension of his muscles, the wild thud of his heartbeat, the musky-sweet scent of his breath. It was as if all his senses had been cranked up a hundredfold. The simple press of his palm against Hans’s lips sent electric jolts straight to his groin. He slowly pulled his hand away. They were both painfully, obviously hard. The evidence was impossible to ignore, pressed right against each other.
Hans smiled. A slow, predatory, lust-drunk smile. He rolled his hips deliberately, rubbing his erection against Henry’s with blatant intent. Henry felt the pleasure spike through his belly like lightning. Hans leaned in then, lips parted, seeking his mouth. At the last second Henry turned his head and stopped the kiss with a trembling hand on his companion’s chest. His voice came out raw, almost broken.
« We… we need a quiet place. Right now. »
Hans didn’t answer. He simply nodded, eyes still locked on Henry, burning with a devouring hunger.
—————
The stairs to the upper floor of the Devil’s Den felt endless and far too short at the same time. Henry took them two at a time, heart hammering, cock throbbing painfully against the front of his braies. Behind him, Hans was a furnace at his back, breathing hard, hands greedy. Halfway up, Hans’s palm cracked sharply against Henry’s ass. The sound rang out like a whip in the narrow stairwell, a loud, delicious smack that made Henry’s knees buckle for a second.
« Kurva! » Henry gasped, stumbling forward.
Hans laughed, low and filthy, drunk on ale, mead, and pure, potion-fueled lust.
« Couldn’t help it, » he growled, voice thick. « Your ass looks too good bouncing like that. »
They practically fell through the door of their shared room, slamming it shut behind them. The bolt scraped home just as Hans spun Henry around and shoved him against the wood, mouth crashing into his in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clacked. Tongues slid hot and wet. Hands tore at laces and belts with zero grace.
Clothes hit the floor in a chaotic heap, shirts, braies, until they were both naked, skin flushed and shining with sweat. The potion had turned every nerve ending into molten steel root. The slightest brush of fingertips felt like lightning. Hans dropped to his knees without warning, mouth already open.
« I need to taste you, » he rasped, voice wrecked.
He swallowed Henry down in one greedy motion, throat working around him. Henry’s head thunked back against the door with a broken moan, fingers twisting hard in Hans’s hair.
« Shit… Hans… your mouth… fuck, just like that… »
Hans hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight to Henry’s balls. He sucked with sloppy, desperate enthusiasm, spit dripping down his chin, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact. Every moan Henry let out seemed to spur him on harder. But Henry wasn’t going to last like this. He yanked Hans up by the hair, spun him, and shoved him face-down onto his bed. Hans went willingly, ass up, legs spread, already begging.
« Please… Henry… I need you inside me. Been dying for it since the cupboard. Fuck me hard… »
Henry slicked himself with the oil they kept under the bed, then pushed in with one long, relentless thrust. Hans cried out, back arching, fists gripping the sheets.
« God… yes… fill me… fuck, you’re so thick… »
Henry set a brutal pace from the start, hips snapping, skin slapping loudly against skin. The bed creaked dangerously. Hans pushed back to meet every thrust, moaning shamelessly, praising him between gasps.
« Harder… ah… fuck, right there… you’re so good, Henry… such a great cock… don’t stop… »
Henry leaned down, biting the meat of Hans’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks. Hans shuddered and clenched around him. Then Hans flipped Henry onto his back, climbed on top, and sank down onto him with a guttural groan. He rode him like he was starving for it, fast, deep, grinding his hips in filthy circles. Henry’s hands dug bruises into Hans’s waist, thumbs stroking over the sharp cut of his hips.
« Look at you, » Henry panted, voice hoarse with awe. « Riding me so pretty, take it in so deep, Hans, you’re perfect… »
Hans’s head fell back, mouth open on a silent cry as he came, untouched, cock spurting across Henry’s stomach in thick ropes. His hole fluttered and squeezed so tightly that Henry followed right after, hips jerking up, filling him with a choked shout.
But the potion wasn’t done with them. For a moment, it seemed like it might be. They pulled apart just enough to breathe, chests rising and falling, the haze thinning as if it might finally release its hold. Henry almost believed it, almost. Then the heat surged back, sharper this time, coiling low and insistent. Their eyes met again, and whatever fragile control they had regained slipped through their fingers. They barely caught their breath before they were at it again, just as helpless as before.
This time, Hans pinned Henry’s wrists firmly above his head with one strong hand. He pushed Henry’s legs apart with his knee and slowly sank into him, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust. From there, Hans fucked him slow and deep, deliberately dragging it out, edging him mercilessly. Every time Henry’s breathing quickened and his body tensed, right on the edge of release, Hans would still his hips completely, holding himself buried inside him while smiling wickedly down at his flushed, desperate face.
« Not yet, » he whispered, voice velvet and sin. « Beg for it. »
Henry whimpered, hips twitching uselessly. « Please… Hans… please let me come… I need it… been so good for you… please… »
Hans finally relented, pounding into him until Henry came so hard his vision whited out, sobbing Hans’s name.
They lost count after that. Positions blurred together in a sweaty, desperate marathon. Hans on his back with his legs over Henry’s shoulders, moaning praises while Henry fucked him so deep he could barely breathe. Henry bent over the small table by the window, biting his own forearm to muffle his screams as Hans railed him from behind. They ended up on the floor at one point, rolling and switching again and again, biting collarbones, nipples, inner thighs, leaving dark marks that would linger for days.
Multiple orgasms tore through them both until their bodies trembled with overstimulation. Every touch became too much and not enough. Henry came dry the third time, shaking and whimpering, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping from the corners of his eyes. Hans followed soon after, sobbing broken praises against Henry’s neck.
« So good… you’re so good to me… I love how you take me… never stop… please never stop… I love you… »
When they finally collapsed, the room smelled of sex, sweat, and spilled oil. Their bodies were slick, marked with bites and bruises. Hans curled against Henry’s side, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to his sweat-damp throat. Henry’s hand stroked weakly through Hans’s messy hair, voice a wrecked whisper.
« Remind me to thank Musa tomorrow. »
Hans let out a tired, sated laugh against his skin. « Or maybe… we just steal another bottle. »
They fell asleep tangled together as the first gray light of dawn crept through the shutters, the potion’s fire still simmering low in their veins. Still joined, they drifted into heavy sleep, the distant sounds of the tavern below slowly stirring awake, while they remained wrapped in each other’s arms, sticky, aching, and utterly satisfied.
