Chapter Text
Hans groaned lowly as he leaned back in the steaming tub of water. Coming to the bathhouses just to hear what gossip the bath maids had wasn’t a normal interest of the young lord; however a few scandalous stories left him curious for more.
Hot steam filled the air around Hans’s head as he lazily drank from his skein of wine, blue eyes wandering around the space as he listened carefully. Two bath maids entered the room, instantly grabbing Hans’s attention. He swiftly closed his skein, placing it in its spot next to the wooden tub. The two women had a clear difference in height, a shorter, stout woman in more modest clothing, followed by a taller, younger lady with typical bath wench attire.
“Such an odd fellow he was-“ the shorter of the pair whispered to her friend as she walked towards Hans’s bath, tray of food in hand, “He paid extra Groschen though… I would let him tie me up nicely again for the extra coin.”
Hans listened closely, despite the regular noise of the bathhouse it was easy to make out the conversation. However, the gossiping woman’s friend quickly shushed her, noticing the lord’s gaze on them. The shorter maid quieted herself suddenly, offering a small bow towards Hans before speaking.
“Is there anything else you desire, sir?” She asked quickly, placing Hans’s food on a small table beside the tub.
Hans considered carefully before speaking, “I heard your situation miss,” he started carefully, as if contemplating each word as it left his lips, “What do you mean your customer had… ‘tied you up nicely’?”
The bathmaid’s face flushed in embarrassment, trying to dismiss the subject at hand, “S-sorry m’lord, but I mustn’t-“
Hans held up his hand, quieting the maid before he fished a small bag full of groschen from the basket beside the wooden tub; pressing it to the lady’s hand firmly. “I insist.”
The maid squeezed the pouch in her palm quizzically, as if testing the honesty of the lords coin. Only after she pocketed the groschen in her white linen apron did she speak.
“A handful of the lads, usually more noble like yourself,” she stops to nod quickly at Capon, “Come in wearing these strapping silk scarves. Quite fancy, really. But those pretty scarves serve a different purpose for those bucks.”
She sighed, shaking her head before continuing, Hans’s attention was still fully focused on the woman as she spoke, “Usually they find some bath maid or harlot who’s fine with complying with their silly whims, which happens to be tying up whoever their bedding with! It’s not all that bad, but you can tell the lads only do it because they like the sense of control they get.”
Hans nodded as if agreeing with the maid, but in reality, his mind was already imaging his squire; strung up to his bed and at the young lords mercy.
Holding back a groan, Hans quickly snapped back to his situation, “Where do these men purchase these scarves?” He pressed, leaning against the edge of the bath and starving for the answer.
“There’s a weaver woman towards the outermost part of Rattay, right by the inn.” The maid explains, stopping to make sure to describe the woman’s appearance so Hans could not miss her. A fair haired young maiden, she lived with her husband and was outside most days, weaving more thread or selling what she has already made.
Hans nodded gratefully, a heat growing in his loins as he thought about his plans with Henry. He quickly thanked the maid, quickly dismissing her from the room. He had to resist the urge to respond to the maid’s smug look as she left the room so he could exit the tub of water and clothe himself. Hans stepped out of the bath, water drenching the already wet floor as he wrapped himself in a towel, hastily drying himself before dropping the cloth to the floor.
His mind raced as he pulled on his shirt, the clean, dry fabric catching on his damp skin, would Henry even like the idea? Hans would never want to do anything to make the blacksmith’s boy uncomfortable, but considering their habits of leaving to “hunt” every fortnite or so, he couldn’t be too worried about it. Henry had a higher sex drive than most to begin with, Hans assured himself that it would also mean the man was open to trying more. Hans already knew his Hal enjoyed his coddling in bed, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
When Hans had finally left the bathhouse, the evening air held a slight chill, making the lord shudder. Hans made his trip back to his room, still turning over the thought of Henry in his head, ignoring whoever acknowledged him as he passed. Henry would return tomorrow night from whatever meager task Radzig sent him out to do. Something silly having to do with some petty bandits.
Hans knew Henry could handle himself but it hurt him to the core that he was never there to save him should he need it. Even more so that Henry was always there to save him, yet he could not return the favor. Hans mentally slapped himself, shaking his head as if dispelling the negative thoughts from his brain. On the bright side, the morning after Henry’s return, he and Hans would set out for another hunting trip.
Capon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he finally entered his room. He could go find the scarf woman tomorrow, before Henry got back, he considered while closing and locking his door. Maybe even ask the peasant what he thought of being tied up and vulnerable for Hans to ravish.
The young lord shuddered at the thought, his braies growing uncomfortably tight. He quickly moved to his bed, lying back against his pillow as his heart clenched with affection. Henry. His eternally sad, blue puppy eyes. Hans gripped himself through his pants, grunting as he imagined all the times he’d taken his squire before. Most recently he’d folded Henry nearly in half on his bed as he ground their bodies together. As if he could force their flesh to meld and he could hold dear Henry tight forever.
Hans gasped sharply, releasing his grip on himself before freeing his hard length from his pants so he could palm himself once more. Henry came back tomorrow, but not soon enough. Hans pleasured himself fully, head tilted back against the pillow as he imagined his hand was Henry. The first thought that came to mind was Hal struggling to ride him the first time. The lord moaned at the memory, thinking of how teary eyed Henry had gotten as he could barely roll his hips, let alone lift himself up and down Hans’s cock repeatedly.
He had looked down at Hans’s with the most pathetic wet eyes, begging the lord to help him move. Who could resist such honey-sweet pleading? Hans ended up gripping Henry’s waist, nearly bruising tight, and guiding his hips himself as the other man blubbered and moaned against his chest. Hans’s cock throbbed in his hand as he gasped sharply, groaning as he realized he had finished and ended up coating his braies in a sputter of cum.
Hans huffed in annoyance, untangling the clothes from the rest of his legs before rolling off his bed. His face felt flush as he dunked the cloth in the bucket of water he kept in his room. The water would have to be refreshed tomorrow, but Hans had to clean the evidence of his fantasizing first.
He couldn’t believe how deprived he was. Never before would Hans have kept himself up at night, touching himself as he imagined a bath maid. But with Henry? Oh, he could do it a thousand times over.
The cold water ran over Hans’s sore fingers, bringing his mind back from the fuzzy shock of an orgasm as he wrung out his braies. Satisfied that he had washed off most of the mess, he dropped the damp clothing into a basket. He would send it down to the maids to be properly washed later, but now, the lord just wanted to sleep.
Hans rolled back into his bed, burying his face into the pillows while he closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off to sleep his mind was infected with images of Henry and his loving face.