Chapter Text
They were leaning back against the wooden sparring pen fence, catching their breaths after a swordfighting session that had left Henry worn out and relaxed and pleasantly sore all over, when Sir Hans flicked his noble chin in the direction of the stables at the back of the courtyard and said, in that without-a-care tone of his,
"He likes you, you know."
Henry's eyes first landed on Hanush's beautiful dark bay horse, which he was pretty sure was not what Hans meant considering that animal didn't like anyone, so he then looked aside to the lad standing next to the stallion, brushing its coat.
"Nicholas?" he asked, unsure where this was supposed to be heading.
As if he could sense the two of them looking at him, Nicholas popped his head up and grinned, waved. Henry found himself giving a hesitant wave back.
"Don't you smell it on him? You should go over and say hello, I'm sure he'd let you take his mare out for a ride." Hans laughed at his own unfunny joke, then said, "Get a good romp into your system, you know?" as if Henry needed clarification.
Henry broke eye contact with Nicholas and frowned at Hans, crossing his arms. "I think you may be imagining things, sir, I've hardly spoken with him about anything other than my horse. No judgement on him though, I'm sure he's a nice enough fellow."
"Ah, I see what the issue is!" Hans declared with a wave of his finger, "you've spent so much time at that forge of yours that it's singed off your nose hairs! No wonder you can never tell when a nice-looking omega is lusting after your cock. Really, Hal, when's the last time that you got some? I know that you're still missing your old sweetheart, but it's not good for your humours to be all pent up like this, regardless of any sense of chivalrous devotion."
Over time and not a few ales down at the tavern on the green, he and Sir Hans Capon had steadily grown to know each other better, to the point where Henry felt more comfortable talking to him about some things such as Bianca's death compared to Theresa or other Skalitz mates that he'd known for longer. There were some parts for which it was simply easier to have another alpha to be friends with, such as sparring—always great to work the antsy energy out with each other—or when talking about sex and romance, which were topics that Sir Hans had many things to say on, being much more experienced himself.
"It's not that, I've slept with a few people since then. Not really opposed to a fuck here or there." Mostly it had been Theresa so far, just some friendly company, but there had also been a couple instances where he'd caught a girl's eye when stopping by a tavern, as well as the one time he'd met Matthias at Merhojed and they'd decided to have a quick one for old time's sake.
Hans scratched his chin idly, catching the corner of his lip on a sharp fingernail. "Hm, you don't like men, then? He seems sweet enough to me in both senses of the word, but I know everyone's got their preferences."
"I've slept with male omegas before, sir," Henry chuckled, "I suppose I just don't think about it as often as you do. I've got training and my duties and all that to handle first before any matters of the heart, as you would put it."
"And that's exactly my point! You should spend more time enjoying the simple pleasures in life, like good food, good wine, and good bed partners. A healthy alpha doesn't spend all his time sharpening his sword waiting for battle! Nicholas is a nice lad, why don't you go chat with him a bit and see where the day takes you?"
"Well," started Henry, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back over at Nicholas, still attentively brushing the stallion's shiny dark coat. He was young and rather good-looking, clean-faced with a friendly smile whenever he greeted Henry. "I…suppose it would be good to put myself out there a bit more. Can't let you turn all the heads in Rattay, can I?" he joked.
Hans clapped him on the shoulder, hard. "That's the spirit! Alright, go on now! I'll wait here for you to be done."
"Alright…" With one quick huff under his arm to check how bad the damage from sparring was—urgh, not pleasant, but hopefully an omega would find it attractive—Henry straightened out his clothes and jogged over to the stables.
"Oy! Nicholas!" he called, and the lad's head popped up.
"Hail, Henry," Nicholas said, grinning over at him as he let the brush drop. "Here to check on Pebbles, are you? She seemed quite energetic when I took her out earlier, wouldn't give me a rest."
Henry laughed. "She's a boisterous one, alright. Er, but I'm not actually here about her…"
He was trying to be polite and not sniff too familiarly, but through the heavy musk of Hanush's horse he could pick up some of Nicholas' softer scent, sweet and warm and fresh with the grass from the fields outside. He certainly had an inviting smell to him, and his grin crooked up appealingly at one end, lending a slightly mischievous look to him along with his slanted eyes.
"Sure, what can I help you with?"
"Well…"
Henry trailed off. He hadn't actually had to make the first move with anyone in a long while…was he supposed to show off his muscles? Bianca had always liked that.
Awkwardly, Henry put his arm over the stable divider and leant there, attempting to look as effortlessly suave as Hans Capon when he did the same. Against his better judgement, he glanced back over to the sparring pen where Hans was still waiting, and got a bright grin and thumbs up in return.
Henry cleared his throat, then said gruffly, "You free for a drink by the town square this evening? I thought it could be nice for us to get to know each other a bit better."
Nicholas' fair skin instantly pinkened, though there wasn't any shyness to him when he responded, "Oh aye, I'd like that. Why don't I come find you after suppertime?"
"Sounds like a plan," Henry said with a grin, and his heart jumped when Nicholas' sweet scent drifted over to him with interest dancing on it.
A few days later, when he met up with Sir Hans for a friendly bout of archery, the first thing that the man did was lean forward and sniff him over the shoulder.
It was normal, they were friends, and Hans was an affectionate sort of man who enjoyed kicking Henry under the tavern table and clapping him on the shoulder and shouting loudly in his ear when he'd had a bit too much wine, and also sniffing him upon seeing him, so that they could quickly catch up on where the other had been in the meanwhile.
Though when Hans sniffed him again and louder was when it got uncomfortably strange.
"You still smell depressingly alone," Hans sighed, now slinging his bow off his back, "things didn't work out with the stablehand, I take it?"
"Actually, it went very well," Henry said, scratching the side of his neck to get rid of the odd itch that had come over him.
"Oh really? Then why is it that I don't smell him on you? I thought you'd be fucking like rabbits by now, he's absolutely the right fit for your village innocence. Honest, hard-working, nice smile…"
"Aye, he's a nice fellow. We had a couple drinks, got to chatting, learned more about each other, then we said goodnight and headed home. Why jump straight to fucking when there's no reason to rush?"
Hans, having pulled an arrow back and waited for Henry to finish speaking, now let it fly, groaning when it only hit the second ring. "Bugger, you made me hold it too long. Wrist shook."
"Right. I'm the one who caused your wrist to shake, 'cause you wanted to wait until my attention was fully on your perfect shot, isn't that right?" laughed Henry, and he took his own shot, a much wider one than Hans had been. He was not really the best archer, but that's why it made such a good excuse for them to train together.
"Well I don't understand why you'd want to wait if the spark is there already," Hans said, ignoring the jab at his vanity. "Being physically compatible is incredibly important in a new bedfellow—perhaps the most important, even! It's not as if you're courting him for marriage, is it? Men aren't so precious about such things as women are, no need to get him to fall head over heels for you if all you want is a tumble in the hay."
Henry snorted, watching Hans loose another arrow. "A tumble in the hay? What if I do want more than that? I know you're the type to love them and leave them, but some of us like to get to know a bit about who we're sleeping with, first."
"Ah, there it is, the village innocence. I don't 'love and leave', Hal, I woo the girls I'm with. A sense of mystery, masculinity, of romance, it only heightens the beauty of it all." Then his tone bittered a tad, and he said, "And yes, I do typically sleep with them the once. But as a nobleman, I can't get too attached to any one omega, lest it cause trouble regarding claims of commoner bastards."
Henry's next shot missed the target entirely, but he didn't care much about the score. "Sorry, Hans. Didn't mean to say you were doing anything wrong."
"It's fine, all the better for you that you don't have to concern yourself with such issues," Hans said with a dismissive wave, and he flashed a smile again. "So! Since you're wanting to take your time, how about I teach you a thing or two about putting your natural alpha charm to good use? I am the older one here, after all, I'm sure there's plenty you can pick up from me."
"By hardly more than a year, sir," Henry chuckled, then he bowed and said, "But if his lordship would be so kind as to offer, then I'll humbly accept his noble tutelage."
"Wonderful!" Hans' arrow thunked into the center ring of his target. "Hm, where to start, then? Your next outing perhaps? Where are you planning on taking him?"
"Dunno, walk around town? The tavern was nice last time, felt friendly."
"Friendly!" exclaimed Hans, waving an arrow around wildly. "You're not even attempting a romantic horse ride around, pressed up against each other in a saddle with the scent of flowers on the breeze? Girls are always impressed by that—though I haven't tried it on a lad yet, that's true."
"He's the stablehand, I'm pretty sure he gets enough of riding horses already."
Hans scoffed and took his shot. "You've bested me in this round of wits, Henry of Skalitz. Though I have yet to meet a worthy challenger for my bow," he said, waving pridefully at his nicely grouped arrows.
Henry rolled his eyes and shot the next arrow, which sunk in too far to the right. "Alright, where would you suggest I take him, then? Walk along the river? That's usually what me and Theresa do."
"Not such a bad idea, though it's always in view of the town walls." Hans didn't move to draw his bow again, instead tapping his fingers on his sword handle as he looked up in thought. "See, the ideal spot would be at a distance but not too far, closed off from any road so you feel like you're alone, but not so shut in that you feel trapped. And of course, both comfortable and private enough that any meeting could turn into something more, when the mood is just right." He scratched his pointy nose, an idle habit of his, then said, "Alright Hal, I'm only going to do this because you're my closest friend, but I'll show you the most perfect spot that I know of. It's a secret, though, so you'd better only bring people you really like there."
"Ah…" He was Hans' closest friend? Heat and something like embarrassment rose to Henry's head. "I, uh, thanks Hans. That's kind of you."
"I am a very kind man," Hans declared, then waved at the targets and went, "now go get our arrows and we can head off."
Henry shook his head to himself with amusement as he jogged up the field to collect both their arrows.
"The two most important things about attracting someone as an alpha is that you want to come off as a provider, and as a protector," Hans started telling him as they walked across the bridge away from town. "Protector, that comes naturally to you already. Just wear a gambeson—your nice one, not the brown one with that horrid stain on it—and bring your sword. And, to be quite frank, you need to remember to take a bath first, Henry. I've never met a man more in need of one."
Henry sniffed his clothing and frowned. "Sorry. It just happens."
"It's because you don't have your clothes laundered often enough, you're normally fine after a wash. Have the Pirkstein maids bring you some dried herbs to fold between your stored clothes as well." He waved a hand, turning onto the road south. "Unimportant. Anyway as I was saying, the second important thing is that you show you can provide. So pack some food and wine, it'll make you look good."
At the mention of food, Henry's stomach let out a shamefully loud growl, and he went rifling through his satchel to pull out a hunk of cheese he'd pilfered from the Rattay kitchens yesterday. "Food, go' it," he mumbled around his delicious mouthful.
Hans laughed brightly at him. "Well looks like you come prepared in any scenario! I shouldn't be surprised." Then with a big stretch of his arms and inhale of the early summer air, he said, "You know, it's very pleasant to get to talk with another alpha about these things! When I was a boy all the ones I knew were at least several years older than me, so often it felt more like they were humouring me, having to explain pizzles and ruts and whatnot to this young squire."
"Aye, I can understand you there," Henry responded, and got himself a delighted grin in return. "I was fortunate that one of the other lads in my group was an alpha too, but still doesn't mean we got along on everything. Fought more often than we spoke, sometimes, gave both our parents constant headaches growing up. I'm glad that you're not so much like that." Though he'd certainly thought it at first when he initially met Lord Capon, who had seemed to embody all the arrogant and prideful ideals of an alpha nobleman.
"Pff. I'm well past my knothead adolescence by now."
They continued to chat easily as the road wound down toward the woods and petered out into a trail, the trees getting denser the further they went. Henry learned that Hans had a rather strong preference toward omegas, which was unusual to him—Theresa was a beta, and he quite enjoyed having sex with her—though the man said that their smell tended to be stronger which made everything more intoxicating when they fucked, and that made sense to Henry.
Finally after they turned around a bend in the path, they came upon a dilapidated wooden structure nestled in a copse of trees.
"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Henry asked, watching Hans clamber up and into the loft of it. The near-entire front of the shack was collapsed open and exposed to the elements, and there wasn't even a ladder to get up properly, just an old pile of firewood against the wall that had started to grow fungus.
"Absolutely unsafe," Hans said, holding a hand down for Henry to grab and climb up after him, "but it's romantic, isn't it?"
Up in the loft, Henry hung his legs over the edge and realized that he could see the forest stretched out in front of them through the collapsed front wall, and there was a calming, damp coolness that clung to the wood around them, even in the warmth of the summer.
"This is a really nice spot," Henry agreed, turning around and taking stock of what was in the loft. The scent of people was old and faded, but there was a worn blanket spread out over the planks, as well as a stool that seemed to function as a small table. "How did you chance upon this so far out?"
"It's my lands, I know every corner of these woods," Hans stated with a boastful grin, already laying back on the blanket with his arms crossed behind his head. "Ey, have you got some more food in that bag? Your lord is feeling peckish after the long journey."
Henry pulled the satchel into his lap and went looking for what else he had left in there. "Here you are, your majesty," he laughed, and tossed a ripe pear and the end of a smoked sausage over.
The next Tuesday, Henry went strolling up to the tavern in the evening to meet Sir Hans for drinks, as was their typical schedule. Hans was already sitting there at a table when he entered and the man looked up with a squinty-eyed grin, motioning to the tavernkeep to fetch another tankard.
"Didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?" Henry asked as he slid into the bench opposite, leaning forward on his elbows so they could quickly scent each other in greeting.
"Pish, I'm only people-watching," Hans responded nonchalantly, taking a swig before sniffing him back. His subtle noble perfume hung around him, masculine and floral, and with it his more natural scent, a deeper thing.
Satisfied, Henry settled back in his seat and took the beer that was put in front of him, but Hans then squinted at him and said, "No, hold on." All of a sudden he bent forward across the tavern table, pointy chin ending up above Henry's beer and mouth falling slightly open, and he began to scent Henry more thoroughly, breath coming out in hot, short puffs and eyes too sharp staring right into him.
"Stop squirming, you damned fool," Hans muttered, his cheeks already flushed with alcohol, "I can hardly pick out anything above the stink of this bathswill they're serving today."
Henry pressed his lips shut and tried to remain in place, though the room was quickly heating up past the point of being bearable with every second that passed. Sir Hans must have been truly tipsy, for he was far too close for just a friendly greeting, and nervously Henry darted his eyes about the tavern to see if anyone was looking at their odd display, but thankfully nobody was.
Finally, finally, with one final sharp inhale, Hans was retreating to a safe distance, and Henry felt his chest loosen again.
"I can smell him on you," Hans said with a raise of his beer, "good job, Hal! Hope it was a load of fun."
Christ, good job? Henry rubbed his spinning head. "I…thank you? Sir?"
The beer fell, not having met the congratulation it was looking for, and Hans took another long swig of it before wiping his mouth carelessly along the back of his sleeve. The action dragged at his lips and exposed a flash of wet pink. "The cabin helped, I wager? Though it's not very strong, I can't smell any slick. Probably this—fucking beer," he grumbled, and made to lunge forward again though Henry rushed to hold his hands out to stop him.
"Er—No, no—That is, aye the cabin was a great choice, thank you again by the way, just that we didn't go, well, all the way. Only had a friendly wank and, uh, a cuddle…" He bit his tongue, registering how unnecessarily emasculating that must have sounded to the much more experienced alpha noble.
"Friendly!" Hans made it seem as if he were personally offended by the word, the way his hand came up to slap against his face and drag his fine features downwards with an aggrieved groan. "Hal, I thought I was teaching you how to romance the fella, not make yourself another pal. You do that part fine enough already." Forehead now held in his despairing hand, he sighed, loudly. "Perhaps it's a lost cause…"
Henry sputtered. "I mean, it was romantic enough! We both had a nice time! Isn't that what matters?"
One noble finger lifted up above Sir Hans' shaggy blond crown of hair and waggled at him, a little drunkenly. "I'll tell you this, Hal. I have never once described any of my past trysts as a nice time."
Henry wrinkled his nose. Surely that wasn't supposed to be said like it was a good thing.
"Sex is like—" Hans was continuing, gesticulating wildly, "—good sex, the most amazing sex, it'll make you see stars! Forget who you are! Like that feeling when you're deep in a rut plowing somebody and don't even have the presence of mind to think about anything other than the stupendous pleasure inside of you! That's what the romance is for, to build you up to that point."
Alright, Henry did like sex, and he thought it was fun, but he didn't really see it the way Sir Hans seemed to see it. Even ruts were often just hazy and painful, though less so when he'd had Bianca there to help.
"Eh, I like how it is. Why change?"
"Look." Hans set his drink down, covered his face in his hands, then parted them, staring seriously into Henry as he rubbed his temples. "I'm trying to mentor you, just trust me on this part, you'll like it, they'll like it, it'll all be very satisfying when you blow his horse-loving mind with your knot. Ah Christ, maybe I should've found you a girl instead of a lad so you wouldn't have tried to be friends…nah, you're friends with that millmaid too, nevermind…"
"I'll listen to whatever you have to say, only I'm not trying to make us fuck when the moment's not right yet, you know?"
"Hmm…we'll simply have to make the moment feel right, then. Ah!" Hans exclaimed with a dull snap of his clumsy fingers, "I know just the thing! Finish up your drink quick, Hal, and let us go back to my chambers."
"Alright," Henry said, and downed whatever he could manage of his beer.
On the walk back to Pirkstein Castle, Henry lifted the collar of his tunic and sniffed there, wondering what he himself smelled like. He'd made sure to rinse down and change into clean clothes before meeting Hans, so there wasn't any bad sweat smell sticking to him, and it was mostly his own clean self as well as linen and Mutt, who tended to end up all over the place simply on account of being a dog. There was also Theresa, who he'd stopped by to see earlier and who did his laundry—though she rolled her eyes and scolded him whenever he asked—and Nicholas, since they'd seen each other in the castle courtyard and had stopped for some kisses behind a stable partition.
There was also Hans lingering on him, quite a good bit of him, since he was the one person that Henry spent the most time with in between the rest of his hectic schedule. It made them smell like close friends, which was rather comforting when he had to be alone at night.
Hans wasn't entirely drunk, but he seemed to have had enough for his steps to start swaying, a boyish freedom evident in the wide swing of his arms and the melody in his throat as they walked together, Henry a step behind as was usual for them. It drew Henry to him, this charming frivolity that Hans held in the slant of his spine and his effortless, permanent grin, as if happiness was never too far away whenever he was around.
An uncomfortable flash of heat licked up his chest and Henry stopped on his way up the stairs, perplexed to find himself smiling.
"What's taking you so long?" Hans called, already leaning against the banister at the top, and he waved his arm in a great big come here! motion. Henry jogged up after him.
Once in Hans' bedroom, the man went diving for a chest by the wall, arse up in the air as he dug around in its contents pulling out this and that item.
"Here, look," he finally said, straightening up with a number of small vials cradled in his palms that he set onto the bed next to where Henry had seated himself, climbing up onto the mattress right afterward and sitting cross-legged in his boots, "it's different sorts of perfume, ideal for alpha men like you or I. Wear one of these and you'll be absolutely irresistible to the lad, you two will be simply hanging off of each other."
Henry frowned down at the half-dozen or so crystalline vials, which looked so expensive that each one of them must have cost more than even Pebbles was worth. "Perfume, really? I'm not—" He ran his fingers through his hair, realizing how messy it was, "—not really a nobleman, I don't know if it'd suit me."
"Nonsense, Hal, presenting yourself as an attractive partner is all about faking just enough to not be a lie. Scent is one of those aspects, the right one for the right man will enhance all his natural charm." Hans uncorked one of the vials and let the scent inside waft over to Henry, who noted that it was a much stronger version of the floral notes that usually clung to Hans. "This one's the one I like to use the most, though it's far too expensive to put on you. The richness of it comes from real unicorn gland oil, so it's near priceless."
Unicorn gland oil? Hans really was wealthier than he'd thought. "It, ah, would be strange to wear the same perfume as you, I think people might take notice," Henry said, though for some reason the thought made him a bit dizzy.
Hans popped open each of the other vials and sniffed them in turn—pine, lavender, bark, almond, leather—interspersed with quick huffs in Henry's direction, as if comparing them to him. Henry simply tried to sit still and not flinch whenever Hans leant in toward him.
In the end, a marbled green vial was chosen and uncorked again, Hans casually dipping in only the very tip of his pinky finger into the mouth of it. "The most important thing about using perfume is that you don't want to overdo it," he said, wiping the excess of the drop off on the rim, "simply a brush is more than enough to expose all the best notes from both you and it. Alright, now hold still."
Hans grinned sharply, eyes crinkling at the corners before Henry realized what was going to happen, and then all at once he was reaching forward, pointy nose dipping toward Henry.
His pinky finger dabbed pine and walnut oil and pear at the divot where Henry's neck met his left collarbone, then at his right.
Flashing heat crawled right up Henry's core to his throat and neck and skull, and he tried not to swallow, and failed, muscle flexing under Hans' light touch. He could feel it now, the arousal, sharp and dangerous and far too obvious and kurva, why was Hans so close to him? Blinking fast, he kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind Hans, trying to stamp out the rushing in his heart before—
A low chuckle. "Ah, you're thinking about it already, aren't you?" Hans purred, then inhaled deeply a handsbreadth from his neck, hot mouth open. "That's the sign of a good perfume, bringing out the allure, the suggestion of something more. Hmm…this one is perfect for you, Hal, especially with your pulse rushing and carrying forward the deeper notes. Perhaps I put on a tad too much, though."
Then, worse, though Henry hadn't thought it could get any worse than Hans leaning into him and breathing him in and panting hot and heavy by his neck, Hans reached his wrist out and scrubbed at the spot where he'd put the perfume, lifting some of it off onto him but also very markedly leaving his own scent on Henry.
He pulled back, gathering the vials into his palms again. "There you are!" he chirped, as if he hadn't been salivating under Henry's jaw only a moment prior, "it'll last you a few days, more than enough time to rock that stablehand's world. Don't forget to come tell me how it goes afterward, aye?"
All of the words in Henry's throat were choked into a burning tangle. "A-aye, sir," he stammered, thickly.
Hans gave him a funny look. "What's wrong with you?" he laughed, "that lustful at the thought of getting some? Go chase your omega, Hal, stop drooling after me, I've not got the right hole for you." He clapped Henry hard on the shoulder, shoving him up to standing and towards the door, and said, "Ah, but I get it, it's hard to keep your head on straight when you're pent up. Go on! Go! I've got to have a yank and knock myself out, so see you!"
And with that, the door slammed shut behind Henry.
Henry, for his part, generally managed to forget the whole thing. Once he'd made it out into the night air and fell into his cool bedsheets and closed his eyes, the burning heat had been lost and he'd figured that it all really was some misplaced lust as Sir Hans had said. He was fine admitting that perhaps he wanted the two of them to scentmark each other more—especially upon waking in the morning and smelling Hans right there at his collarbone, a blanketing comfort—as two close friends might do, because they were close friends.
That was a world of difference from the utterly insane thought that he could fuck Hans, though. For one, it was, well, disgusting to think about what would have to take place for that to happen. Also, there was no world in which Hans, alpha nobleman and seducer of omegas, would find it acceptable, aside from the fact that it was plain unnatural and against the hierarchy of the sexes and the ranks of men.
Perhaps he could be open to a friendly mutual wank, though. At some point.
Henry did have an itchy energy that was slowly beginning to bug him throughout the week, so he decided that it would be good to have some fun with Nicholas and get it out of him. They had a lot of fun, actually, though nothing as monumental as Hans had described, which was perfectly fine by him. Nicholas was a great lad to spend time with—a lot like Matthias if he had to compare the two—and it was nice to be able to make yet another friend around Rattay.
He was trying to ignore the fact that he had been ordered to tell Hans how it went, afterward. It was driving him mad, pacing the confines of his courtyard room on itchy legs, thinking about the horror of going back and talking with Hans about sex again.
So it was really his fault, then, that the next time he saw Sir Hans was when the man came to knock impatiently on his door, sharp and loud raps of knuckles startling him up from the bed.
"Uh," greeted Henry after opening the door, "hello, sir."
"Finally I've cornered you!" Hans exclaimed, already shoving past him into the room. "So, how was it? The perfume! Did you—"
He stopped abruptly, leaned in with his blue eyes fixed on Henry's, and took a deep, luxuriating breath in, making Henry's skin prickle all over because he was sure that he smelled very much of sex just then.
"I can smell slick all over you," said Hans, utterly delighted and still huffing shallowly as he spoke, "you messy creature, you randy beast! Good job, Hal! I expect that you've been fucking nonstop since then, all thanks to your good friend's help."
Without thinking about it, Henry quickly wiped his mouth off on his forearm, trying to get as much of the scent off as possible—
And then, froze. And guiltily, slowly lowered his arm, but it was far too late because those sharp blue eyes had latched onto the movement and a devious grin began to curl its way over Hans' face, as he took a step forward, then another.
"Oh," he breathed, "oh ho ho, Hal, I'd never have expected that of you." He tilted forward, sniffed the overwhelming slick scent at Henry's mouth and jaw, then bent down and sniffed his collar, then down further. "I expect I don't have to scent your pizzle too, do I?" he finally asked, arms out wide as if bowing right in front of Henry. "You didn't fuck that lad! You've eaten him instead! By God, you truly are ravenous."
"So what?" Henry retorted, crossing his arms roughly as if to protect the heat of shame in his belly. "Not like you've never done it."
Hans blinked at him, sharp grin fixed in place. Then he said, "Well, no. I haven't," very plainly.
Out of sheer disbelief, Henry dropped his arms. "Wait, really? You? You've never—put your mouth on an omega's—" He waved around to complete the sentence.
Hans grimaced, effortless noble disgust in his features. "Don't be crass. That sort of thing is for omegas to do to each-other during their heats, it's an alpha's job to make use of his robust manhood for their sakes."
Henry laughed, once. Then again. It was absurd, the idea that he'd spent all this time thinking that Hans Capon was some master of loving, and he'd never even once lowered his lordly tongue for an omega's pleasure.
"Well, well, you don't have to be so maidenly about it, my lord," Henry drawled, now utterly smug about the fact that he'd done something Hans hadn't, and that Hans was looking so flustered about it, "I'm sure any of the omegas you bed would love for you to tie them into knots with your tongue. Bianca used to beg me endlessly for it," and then he clicked the tip of his tongue playfully on his teeth, stepping forward when he saw Hans' throat bob shallowly.
"It's hardly appropriate for you to do," Hans scolded, red-faced. "Once a rumour like that gets out, everyone will know, Hal. They'll all know that you suck on—"
"And so what if they know? Aren't you curious what the best part is, sir?" Then, to get back at Hans for all the damn teasing the man had been running circles around him with, Henry slowly leant forward, waiting until he was close enough to scent floral and unicorn musk and interest before murmuring, with temptation on his tongue, "It tastes really, really good, Sir Hans. I just can't get enough of omega slick dripping into my mouth."
He straightened back up, smiling blithely. "Well, you should try it, sometime. I'm sure Nicholas would be fine letting the Lord of Pirkstein have a go," he finished, already sure that he'd won.
"Oh he would, would he?" Hans muttered, eyes squinting into crescents over pink-flushed cheeks, "but do I really have any need to go to the source when you've already stolen more than enough for your gluttonous maw?"
Henry was hearing the words, but they seemed to have no meaning for him, for there was no explanation as to why Hans was now stepping forward, determined slant in his brow, and why Henry was now backed against the door of his own room, seeking an escape that wasn't possible. Hans was radiating heat all up along his front, a roaring furnace, and his face was coming close, closer than ever before, and his breath ghosted across Henry's lips as he whispered,
"Stay still, Henry,"
And Henry, curse him, stayed still.
A thumb landed at the seam of his mouth, heavy and sure, and with a bend in the square joint it was prying, pulling, catching on the silken damp inside of his bottom lip as it peeled its way down, yielding to Sir Hans' control. The blunt tip of it rubbed into his teeth under sensitive gums, and Henry felt his breath shift to his now-opened mouth, heaving, panting, needy. The pink bow of Hans' lips hung open in front of him and the blue of his eyes was now too close to see, overtaken by a blurred brush of straw-coloured lashes, and now his mouth was coming closer, jaw hanging open to show a glint of white teeth, and—
The tip of a burning hot tongue began tracing its way from under the dryness of the thumb and down along the inside of his lip, digging deep until pressing right into where flesh met jawbone, making room for its velvet drag. Henry shuddered, losing all focus in his vision as fever overtook his mind, as their bottom lips melded into each other, grotesquely warped, hideously soft.
The tongue inside his lip was gone too soon, then the thumb, then Hans was licking his lips and thumbtip with a grin like the cat that got the cream, saying, "Why, it does taste delectable, Hal, thank you for that. Though—"
He stopped talking, then scrunched his nose, took a sniff. Then further in he sniffed, and again, until he was nosing along the line of Henry's jaw while Henry himself tried not to utter a single sound, which was getting more and more difficult with every huff of air by the tickly spot near his ear.
"Hal," Hans finally said, sounding very concerned, "are you going into rut any time soon?"
"N-no sir," Henry forced his mouth to say, entirely unable to forget the fact of Hans' saliva pooling below his teeth, "I'm…a late bloomer…always autumn for me." Every word was torture, cut out through his heaving lungs. There was no air left in the room.
Hans let out a relieved sigh, rush of breath doing nothing to cool Henry's skin. "Alright, good. I think…I think you'd better go and work out whatever it is that's burning at you, you're starting to smell…dangerous. A proper fuck, I mean it, none of this licking business, just put that boy on his stomach and hammer away. Hard. Don't stop until you're done, and that's an order, you hear me?"
"Aye, sir…" Henry exhaled, putting it together in his overheated skull. The fever. The arousal. The burning need for air. He was on the precipice, in danger of spiraling into an early rut if he didn't find release right now. "Sir, Hans, I think, think maybe you should leave."
"Right." Hans drew back in a large step, and suddenly there was air around Henry again, though his head spun in the absence of any support. "I'll see you next week when the fight is out of you. Henry, Henry. Step aside so I can leave the room, now."
Henry, gathering his limbs, stepped aside from the door, and then Hans was gone.
He didn't go to Nicholas. He didn't go to Theresa. As soon as Hans was out the door, Henry put his hand on his cock, and thought of unicorn musk.