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“But you're everything to me. You deepen the red of my blood.”
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Battle was never easy. The throes of war, the cries of pain, the yells of anger and sadness, the wails of desperation as swords clash and arrows plink against armor.
The scent of blood in the air was overwhelming.
Hans drew his bow back, taking in a deep breath, and began releasing arrow after arrow, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated. He had lost sight of the battle hours (minutes?) ago, and all he was able to do was shoot arrows. His sword was still in his scabbard, but he was so overwhelmed with the amount of enemies, he hardly had a chance to reach for it. He was basically shooting blindly at this point, just trying to take out any open area of skin that he could to slow the enemies down.
Yet they just kept coming.
Hans stepped backwards, foot hitting a rock, and he took a tumble, falling right on his ass. His bow cracked as he fell, the noise sounding deafening in his ears, eyes widening. He was so fucked. He was going to die.
A hand touched his cheek, gentle yet firm, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall down his face. Hans could feel the calluses, could smell the smoke and sweat. He blinked up at his best friend, surprise forming in his chest as Henry leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.
“My lord,” was whispered reverently, and it just about made Hans’ heart stop in his chest. He'd never heard his friend speak in such a tone. “Do not fret. I am here.”
And then he felt those firm, plump lips against his forehead, and he just about sobbed.
Hans reached for his weapon, scrabbling to get the shortsword out of the scabbard. After multiple attempts, he finally pulled it from its sheath, and he raised it up in front of him in a defensive move. His heart pounded in his ears, and enemy already coming close, ready to end his short-lived life.
But he would fight, he would do whatever it took to get back to Henry. Henry, his most loyal friend. He couldn't call him a servant, not any longer. Not when feelings had been exchanged, not when he knew how Henry felt beneath him, how he looked in the dim candlelight.
Hans raised the sword, ready to stab right through the enemy that was coming for him.
“My lord,” was moaned as Hans licked his way down his bodyguard's neck, teeth gently grazing along that part he knew made most women heated in their loins. He sucked a spot right there against Henry's pulsepoint, heart thundering away as he had his way with his best friend.
He never expected anything to come of him confessing his long-hidden love for Henry of Skalitz. The other man never gave any indication of reciprocation, but when the words had fallen from his mouth, Henry had cupped his face ever so gently.
They shared their first kiss, the hesitant press of lips, the scratch of stubble, the taste of wine and ale on the tongue.
It was divine.
The crash of his sword hitting armor reverberated up Hans’ arm, and he clenched his teeth as he slashed the other man away. Sweat was beginning to pool in his eyes, the helmet he wore sweltering and uncomfortable. He sat up more, attempting to stand, but was unable to gain footing, a sharp pain shooting up the small of his back.
Hans knew then that he would remain absolutely fucked. He'd pulled a muscle, and getting up would be difficult without help from an ally.
Yet he still fought, teeth gritted as he stabbed and slashed outwards, trying to do some damage to the enemy above him.
Blood sprayed in his face, and the man's head toppled off onto the ground below. Hans eyes widened, watching the body fall. And there stood Henry.
Henry.
“Henry, my dear,” Hans moaned as he licked his way down the other man's body, sucking small marks on his way down, tasting the sweat and smoke. It tasted a whole lot better than he expected, and he couldn't help himself as he grinded his pelvis into the closest surface available. “You are magnificent.”
He wasn't lying. The sight before him was driving him mad, and it was taking everything in him to take this slow. He needed to enjoy his best friend. Who knew when they'd be able to do this again.
“God,” was all he heard as he reached Henry's navel, his tongue lapping into his briefly before he got to the ties of the man's braies. With ease, Hans undid them and slowly began to slide them down Henry's thighs. “My Lord.” It was moaned, a deep, instinctual noise that made Hans go crazy.
“Henry!” Hans hollered, elation at seeing his best friend alive and well besides a few dents in the armor. The brunette reached down to attempt to give Hans a hand, and as the lord reached up to take it, something indescribable happened.
He barely saw the enemy knight behind Henry, and then he saw the sword sticking out from his best friend's gut. Sickening shock swirled through Hans, and all he could do was gape. His bodyguard fell to his knees, eyes wide, hands going to the sword that currently poked out through his armor.
Hans reached up, unsure of what to do, and his hands came away with blood. Henry shook his head. “No, my lord,” was whispered through the sound of battle. The larger man turned, sword still sticking out from his middle, and he began to swing his longsword about, easily taking down the enemy that had stabbed him.
“Beautiful,” Henry whispered reverently as Hans slowly brought his cock into his mouth, licking the tip before swallowing him whole. He tasted of sweat and musk and absolute divinity. He couldn't help but moan around his lover's dick. Never would he have thought there'd be a day where he'd suck another man off, but he'd do it any day for Henry. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth, my Lord.”
A permanent flush permeated Hans’ cheeks, and he couldn't help but preen at the compliment he received. He felt hands in his hair, blunted fingernails running along his scalp, gently tugging at his blond strands. The feeling sent heat straight to his cock, and he used one of his hands to pull his own cock out of his braies. He stroked himself in time with his suckling, his mouth slowly growing sore around Henry's fat dick.
Hans pulled off with a pop and a smile. “You taste,” he began, licking his lips, “Divine, my peasant.” And then he swallowed Henry down once more.
“Henry, Henry,” he said, trying to grab onto the back of his friend's armor, but he was ignored. Henry continued to fight with the sword sticking from his middle, and Hans knew it was just adrenaline working. There was too much blood, and if that sword came out, Henry would be down for the count.
So all he could do was watch as his bodyguard played his duty to the fullest. The battle continued to rage around them, and Henry fought like an absolute madman.
A horn blew then, and the enemy forces began to retreat. Henry didn't follow, falling to his knees in front of Hans, his back facing the young nobleman. “Henry,” he shouted, voice cracking. “Henry, please.”
“My Lord, please,” Henry moaned above him, and Hans never stopped, still suckling. He felt the other man's dick twitch, and the blond's free hand touched his balls, feeling them tense up. Without much ado, Henry spilled into Hans’ mouth, and he lapped it up like a cat that got its cream.
“Divine,” he repeated, his other hand still tugging on his own cock, heat rising. He spilled into his own hand, a grunted moan escaping him. “Fuck.”
“Fuck,” was all Hans could say as he pulled his lover into his arms, allowing the man to lay back as much as he could. He saw the life draining from Henry's eyes, and all he could do was ask. “Why?”
A small smile formed on Henry's face. “Because,” he let out a slight cough, blood dribbling from the corners of his lips, “I vowed to protect you until my dying breath. And here I am.” A cheeky smile slipped out, before it turned pained.
“Please, no,” Hans whispered, tears forming in his eyes once again. “You can't leave me.”
“But you're everything to me.” The light was fading from Henry's eyes, and he spoke in a more pained, slow tone. “You deepen the red of my blood. And I love you.”
It was so simple. Hans knew he was supposed to die that day, but his beloved had saved him. He leaned down as Henry's eyes began to shut.
“I love you as well, Henry of Skalitz, heart of my hearts.”
I love you.
It was such a simple saying, yet as it was whispered between the two breathless men, Hans knew he wouldn't want anyone else. He would have no one else.
Henry was his. And he was Henry's.