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Henry woke up on his tiny, thin mattress in the Devil's Den, the eerie spirit lights from his latest nightmare fading from his vision as he took in the reality of the modest room he shared with Hans. He was still shaking. This time his mother had been washing, washing, washing a bloody tunic in a bloody stream dotted with bodies of people big and small. Children, friends, people with petty squabbles. Her gaze never left his, not until his screaming in the dream jolted him awake. Thankfully the sound hadn't carried into the waking world. As his eyes adjusted he rose from bed and put some hose and an undershirt on before he carefully walked over to the table nearer to Hans' bed.
He would never admit it to anyone, but he frequently sat here quietly after some of the bad nightmares, watching his lord's chest rise and fall, lulled into sleepiness again by his quiet breathing and his (normally impish) gentle expression. Henry, in his loneliness and worse impulses, he thought, wanted to be close enough to see his eyelashes flutter from dreams. God, I'm so beyond fucked, a sinner, a wretch, soon to be Satan's own catamite with this obsession, he thought, bitterly ruminating on how many times he's watched him like this, tried to push his luck to get another smile out of Hans, a friendly jostle, anything. The man he should be loyal to, to have no ulterior motives, no secrets. But there are many loyalties. Is not a man loyal to his spouse...? He stamped out that thought. Stupid, irrelevant. Still the ritual persisted, and even now brought great comfort despite his thoughts.
He sat there for a good fifteen minutes- quietly watching his lord's chest, eyes, and lips- before something odd began to happen. Hans began to sweat and mutter, and in a few seconds began folding in on himself and contorting, drawing his knees to his chest and pressing his hands hard against the mattress below him. He looked terrified. He kept pulling his legs tighter to himself and started mumbling, lower than Henry could hear. Henry had never seen him do this before, but after a brief weighing of his options rushed to Hans' side. He didn't give a fuck if Hans ended up throwing him back across the room or cussed him out, he was clearly having the same sort of night terror Henry only just woke from and it would be cruel to let it play out. He gently grabbed Hans' right hand and touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Hans? Sir Hans?" He whispered, shaking him lightly. "It's alright. It's a dre-" Hans' eyes sprang open, his right hand clutching Henry's while the left one threw off the hand on his shoulder.
"The wa- ... Henry? What are you.." he looked into Henry's gentle face and then peered around sheepishly. "I'm fine. Fine. Did I wake you?" Lowered eyes, a twinge of shame playing at his features. "Oh God, you're not going to let me live this down." He brushed Henry aside and sat up.
Henry was genuinely a little hurt at the accusation. "I'm not going to poke fun at you, I'd be well beyond a hypocrite."
Hans still didn't meet his eyes, clearly trying to find a way to brush off the fact that he was covered in chilled sweat and still trembling. "I'm serious, what did I do? It was bad enough that I woke you!"
"Look," Henry said, cutting him off before he got a chance to continue, "I'll just snatch this beauty up-" he grabbed the jug of schnapps near Hans' bed, "and grab some blankets. It's a full moon, we have some spirits, and..." he trailed off pointedly to let Hans perk up a bit and finish the suggestion.
"The perfect kind of night for a little midnight picnic? You're right, Henry! How are you so, so.." Kind? "so resourceful?" He clapped Henry on the shoulder as he was pulling the blankets off both beds. Henry didn't expect this to work out, thought somehow Hans would be able to tell that he had been watching him, would ask again about how he knew he was suffering. He felt terrible about it, but right now he wanted to help Hans.
"This way, sire," Henry said with a silly curtsy, hoping that a bit of theatrics would calm them both down. "Much finer lodgings await." Hans still looked glum, but he snorted at that. Alright, good, maybe I can actually help him tonight.. Henry thought, still horrified that Hans was suffering like he was, or worse. Henry just wished he could embrace him, fully and honestly. But that was impossible.
They quietly padded through the inn, down the stairs, and out the side door, slowly so as not to creak. They walked past the beehives and down across the stableyard til they reached the field where archery targets were set up. Hans grabbed a shuttered lantern there and lit it. It was far enough away that nobody else would hear or see them. Henry carefully and, hopefully without alerting Hans that it was intentional, maneuvered to a spot in the field where you couldn't see the tops of the trees in your vision when looking straight up. Then he shook out the thicker blanket and laid it down in the grass before plopping onto it with a little flourish, sticking one leg out for counterbalance. "Fit for His Lordship?" he asked, a crooked smile blooming on his face. "Oh, aye, aye." Hans said, the smile clearly infectious for him despite his still-rattled nerves.
Hans set the lantern down apace before tossing himself on to the blanket and grabbing impatiently at the jug. "A good page keeps his lord pickled, Henry. Though I admit you have always gone above and beyond..." Henry relinquished the schnapps and Hans took a huge glug before handing it back. "You drink too. Ah, God, it's nice to be in the open. I hate staring at the ceiling in that rat hole." He laid back and stared happily at the stars. "It's nice out here. You know just what to- hm." Henry could see the precise second things clicked into place for Hans, and he wasn't sure what to make of his next expression. Hans sat back up quickly and fixed him in place with his gaze.
"Henry. Did I embarrass myself? I mean, more. More than I did. Why are we out here? Why didn't we just drink inside?" Hans' eyes flashed in the moonlight, searching Henry's face.
"Um." Henry said, trying to sound effortless. Shit, he thinks this is pity, doesn't he? He thought, and eked out a simple "The noi-"
"Don't say the bloody noise, Henry. Those old drunken farts wouldn't rouse without artillery." They stared at each other awkwardly until Hans made a disappointed click of his tongue, and said in a near-whisper, "You're babying me like everyone else." He got to his feet faster than Henry could react, then crouched back down and viciously snatched the jug out of Henry's hands and turned to leave.
Henry cursed his own plodding wit and reached out, grabbing Hans' free hand. "Kurva! Please, Hans, it's not like that!"
Hans turned back to face him, eyes shining and blazing, utterly wilting. "What is it like, Henry? Feel like a nursemaid? Thought I pissed myself? Little lordling couldn't behave the one fucking night you're here out of the damn week?" Henry opened and shut his mouth, shocked at just how deep the pain was running for Hans. Hans looked shocked too, obviously didn't expect raw emotions to start pouring out. Henry pulled his arm down very gently and Hans sat, resigned. "That was pathetic too." Now he wasn't even looking at Henry. Henry had absolutely no clue what to say, but he felt like he had to say something fast. He wanted to hold Hans, wrap his arms around him. He was still holding his arm, his best friend's arm, his lord..
"I was watching you sleep." He said, and Hans snapped his face back up to stare at him. "I, uh. Fuck. I do it kind of.. often." Hans was expressionless but growing faintly pink in his cheeks. They both looked equally baffled at what came out of Henry's mouth.
"What?"
"When I have nightmares, milord." An honorific said out of habit, it felt kind of ridiculous right now. "I have nightmares a lot. More than I tell you. Skalitz. Everyone- but, but I mean to say, sir." Again, some strange nervous habit of deference. And indeed, he thought, he should be ashamed. "Um. I just had one, and I was sitting, and I was.. watching you.." Hans quietly boggled but didn't respond. Henry felt mortified. He didn't want Hans to leave, or hate him, but he may do both and more. He realized his neck and cheeks were burning. "And you were dreaming, something terrible, and I couldn't bear it-" Oh, fuck,"I don't want to see you scared. Of anything. So I woke you, yes, and I cajoled you into coming out, yes. Because there's no walls, and I only thought, well. I thought maybe they were closing on you, and we c- we could sit out in the open with no walls for either of us to dream about." Hans was utterly inscrutable. Henry wanted to be smote with a bolt of lightning.
It felt like hours passed when Hans suddenly touched Henry's cheek, with the trepidation of touching some noble animal. Henry nearly jumped out of his skin, but soon pressed his face lightly into the touch out of some deep need. "You're crying, Hal.." Hans stated quietly. "Now I really feel like a fucking idiot. You're so.." he shook his head. "I can't believe you can stand me, Henry. How can you stand me? I'm a stupid child."
Henry shook his head vigorously and put his hand over Hans' and squeezed it. "You're not at all. You're treated like one, but you're not. I hate leaving you here, hate that you're caged up. I wish-"
Hans suddenly lunged forward, and their lips collided. "Ow, fuck-" he mumbled after their teeth clacked together, but they moved quickly, shifting into place, Hans pressing into him with his whole body as they kissed. All thoughts flew out of Henry's mind as he pressed back. Why the hell had they ever fought? How could they misunderstand anything?
"Jesus Christ." Hans said when they pulled apart to breathe, both nearly panting. "I have wanted to do that for quite some time. You watch me sleep, Henry? Good God, you little freak! I'm that beautiful?"
Henry chuckled softly, still dizzy from the kiss. "No, it's the only time you're fucking quiet."
Hans made a weird strangled little giggle. "What a fucking pair we are. A spoiled brat and a secret pervert!" They laughed quietly and it was like there had never been anything unspoken between them.
"I am really sorry, Hans. It isn't right." Henry said, and Hans shook his head.
"I'm flattered, really. I've, well, watched you sometimes too. I didn't know you had it in you."
"Only for you." Henry said quietly, his whole body radiating heat. They looked at each other in silence again, until the air around them shifted once more. Henry realized that the young lord's gaze had turned into the one he gets when he's about to give chase to his quarry. Oh, saints preserve me, he thought, as Hans cupped his face again. "As your lord and your companion," he grinned, "I give you permission- nay, I demand, that you may tell me if you've wanted to touch me" he laid one hand on his chest with great pomp, "as I lay sleeping." That was a surprise.
"You fucking imp."
"As always, my dear page. Now tell me." He grinned widely.
Henry's stubbornness flared as he squirmed under Hans' gaze. He wasn't going to let him have the upper hand. "I want to now, if you'll let me. My lord." Capon made a strangled noise and nodded enthusiastically. That fast? Too easy, Henry thought, bending forward and running his hands up Hans' shirt. Hans whimpered softly and Henry belatedly realized he was hard as a rock. Was Hans? He ran one hand back down, brushing lightly over Hans' crotch, causing him to nearly buck. "Oh, fuck, Hans.." he mumbled, and then pressed his chest down gently, guiding him to lie back.
Hans' shirt rode up more and Henry reverently lifted it further, causing Hans, slightly skinnier than him but with the kind of lean muscle from hunting and riding, to shiver, his muscles tensed and his breathing ragged. His expression was one of pure desire, almost intimidating.
"Henry. I want to see you too. Take your damn shirt off."
"Bossy." He said, pulling his shirt off as he sat with his legs folded, looking down happily at Hans. They both took in their respective views, voracious eyes imploring each other to go further.
Henry ran his hands back up Capon's chest, stopping at and lightly stroking his nipples. His own weren't very reactive, so he thrilled a little when Hans' breath hitched. After several minutes of making Hans squirm, playing with his nipples and gently scratching his sides, he couldn't resist teasing him verbally. "Sure you're not a virgin, milord? You shiver like one." Hans barked an indignant laugh and suddenly Henry's back was against the blanket and Hans was perched on top of him.
His thighs were thick and strong from hunting and riding. Henry reveled in them. "Don't provoke me, boy." Hans said, grinding his hips down against Henry's crotch.
"Ffff.. Hans, God, alright. Can-" his hands clumsily fought with the ties of his hose and his partner quickly mirrored him, more deftly releasing his own cock and pushing Henry's hands aside to let his out faster. They both stared hungrily at each other's dick. Hans' cut an elegant profile, dripping intermittently. Henry's was slightly heftier, and lay against his stomach, in a growing puddle of his and Hans' precum.
“You really are gorgeous, Hans..” He mumbled.
Hans turned a brighter red and retorted, “I know. But God, Henry, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’d be shocked at how many times I’ve had to restrain myself from begging to just see you naked.”
Henry idly slid his hands up and down Hans’ thighs. “I have a feeling it might be the same amount of times I felt that way about you.”
Hans slid back slightly, changing his angle before leaning down to trap Henry in a passionate kiss, grinding against him. They moaned into each other and began to sync up their thrusts. Henry wrapped his hand carefully around both of their dicks, his calluses providing friction even as their fluids soaked his hand and smeared across their bellies. Hans pressed harder into him, whining and keening into their kiss.
Henry had always been quiet when he got close, but he wanted Hans to hear him. He panted and moaned as they quickened their pace, til Hans pulled his mouth away from Henry's, shocking him with the loss until Hans growled out "Fuck, Henry.." And bit his shoulder, moaning hard and shaking like a leaf.
"Hans!" Henry's free hand flew up to his mouth as he bit two of his knuckles, strangling a cry as he saw white. Hans, exhausted, lifted his torso up to smile gloatingly at Henry, like he somehow won at a tie. Henry extricated his hand from between them, uncomfortably wet with pre, cum, and sweat.
He brought his hand to his mouth and slowly licked some of the cum off his hands, staring at Hans. Hans, with the grace befitting his station, gently guided Henry's hand to his mouth, and sucked on Henry's fingers, savoring everything. Henry felt like if he hadn't already came he would again just watching Hans and feeling his mouth. God willing, I can find out exactly how that feels elsewhere, he mused, his dick twitching lazily.
They laid there until they could move again, and tucked themselves back into their damp braies and partly removed hose. Henry mumbled and grabbed the other blanket, tossing it over the both of them. There was no way they were moving from this spot for a while. "Those bastards won't wake up until well after noon!" Hans said. "And if they see my conquest-"
"Your conquest?"
"They'll be too awed by us." Henry snorted and Hans maneuvered to stretch atop his chest like a languid cat. As his mind slowly returned to normal, Henry went over everything. Hans had felt the same about him? He missed Henry at least as much as Henry missed him whenever he had to ride off on Zizka's orders. Jesus Christ, we fucked! he thought, still in shock that it even happened. He had daydreamed about it on long rides, something he hated himself for thinking. But Hans.. stuck here and feeling useless, hadn't resented him as he feared. He missed him. He, the selfsure, highborn, refined young lord, missed him. The bastard son, a smith, and a wretch that hid lustful feelings. Which were apparently also very reciprocated. His head spun. He'd think more about it later. He raised his head to look at Hans, his face, his eyelids.. closer than he had prayed for. Hans looked up and smiled, a little bashful, obviously also still reeling from what happened. They listened to each other's breathing until they both nodded off.
Godwin stirred awake, the light tremor in his hands telling him it was morning, roughly eight or so hours since his nightcap. He dressed slowly, the ache in some old wounds pounding faintly before being chased away by his careful stretching. He didn't hear any bitching or squabbling yet, and thanked the Lord thusly. He went outside with the little expedience he could muster, and headed for his usual morning spot for prayer (and heavy imbibing of "the spirit",) something he had been doing much more often since coming to the Den.
Henry stirred when he felt a new presence near. He looked around at the field, the blanket, the schnapps, and down at Hans, then finally up at the man framed by the sun and nearly started scrambling to his feet. "Father!" He said, a stage whisper, shocked at Godwin even being awake at this hour, shocked more when he realized what kind of picture this whole thing painted. "'Lo, Father..." Hans mumbled, curling closer into Henry, innocent as a lamb and clearly still asleep. Henry cursed him silently, then felt worse and cursed himself, throwing up his free hand (the other one pinned under Hans) to begin the sign of the cross.
Godwin just chuckled awkwardly. "Lad, if you think God truly cares about this sort of indiscretion the Den would have been fully consigned to a conflagration ages ago. I made much worse decisions at your age. Just make sure you two are presentable soon, or the jeering will make you wish the Lord did something about it." He leaned closer and Henry flinched, but he just snatched up the jug that had rolled away from them. "And stay the fuck out of my morning routine." As he turned to leave he shook his head.
If they made a habit of this he'd have to find a new quiet spot for contemplation. And thank Christ they had their hose back on.
Henry watched him leave, utterly shocked and wondering who else had this sort of secret. Hans finally stirred (the idiot, Henry thought fondly) and blearily watched as Godwin turned into the stables. Henry felt him tense up as he slowly calculated what must have happened. With a pathetically high strangled wail, he pushed away from Henry like a moody cat. "G- he- Godwin??" he choked, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on. "Henry, why- He... Why didn't you wake me? What did he say? Oh, God's Wounds! We'll be hanged!" he looked at Henry, gawping, while Henry shrugged.
"What do you mean, shrug, you moron! Do something! Talk us out of this!" Hans said, slapping Henry's chest lightly in a frantic staccato rhythm. Henry chuckled quietly, but not unkindly. "In case you couldn't tell by my not giving a shit, milord, he just said we needed to get dressed before the others saw. Though it was terrifying. I didn't really have time to react." He grabbed his shirt as well, pulling it on over his tanned arms and paler belly. He could feel Hans staring at him, and thought back to the night before, his neck and ears growing hot. "Besides, what about our conquest?" Hans pinched the bridge of his nose pensively. "You had just made me cum my brains out, Henry. Obviously I wasn't up to my usual tactical genius." Henry rolled his eyes. "Just get your ass up so we can go clean ourselves in the stream before anyone else notices." They both got to their feet, both thinking about what exactly last night would mean going forward.