Work Text:
“I was... I was almost drowned by Arse'n'balls,” Hans repeated and burst out laughing, just like the first time. The young Lord of Rattay was drunk as a skunk. The previous feast in the exclusive back room of the bathhouse had led to the nobleman standing in front of his savior dressed only in his undershirt and underpants. The latter, in turn, still looked a little dazed. Archibald had managed to land a few blows to his head.
Hans tried a third time: “Did you hear me, Henry?” His level of alcohol forced him to take a short break so that his brain could form the next sentence again: “I was almost drowned by Arse'n'balls.” The silly amused laughter filled the warm heavy air of the bathroom.
“Yes, I heard you, Sir Hans,” Henry replied. He was not yet drunk enough to be amused by this insult to a name. However, the sound of Hans' laughter caused a smirk to cross his lips.
The whole evening had already been a challenge for Henry. Hans' beige top was sticking to the body, damp and semi-transparent. Henry could see the pink of Hans' nipples through the fabric. What was true of the shirt was also true of the trousers. The outline that appeared stirred Henry's imagination.
A forbidden fantasy. Thoughts of sodomy - of sin. The outlawed desire, among other things, to indulge in carnal pleasure with another man. Henry had prayed. Had begged God to put an end to these thoughts. But God had not answered him.
Henry was afraid of destroying his friendship with Hans. Hans was the only good friend he had. Sure, there were the two bastards from Skalitz that he had known since he could walk, but that wasn't the same. As different as Hans' personality was from his, Hans was the only person he felt understood by. Nevertheless, he didn't dare to reveal his true feelings to him.
However, this did not stop Henry from committing it in secret. He also decided to deal with this sin like any other. To practice it and then ask God for mercy or buy letters of indulgence. Once he even confessed to Father Godwin. His questions about Henry's thought constructs had given him new ideas. Godwin asked him about positions and actions that Henry had not thought possible before.
Henry had to be careful not to stare at Han's wet body. Fortunately, his drunken counterpart didn't seem to have noticed anything yet. Just like the last month they had spent together.
Hans raised the tankard in his hand to toast: “But you saved me! That deserves a celebration!” He took a big sip, only to realize that the wooden mug was already empty. As he tilted his head back and squinted one eye to look into the empty beer mug with the other, he lost his balance. Henry took two quick steps towards him, but Hans had already caught himself with one hand on the edge of the bathtub.
“You should go back home, they're probably worried about you at the castle.” Henry was the voice of reason for both of them and sometimes he hated it. Tonight, he had already decided against it twice and he didn't know whether a third time would lead to ultimate disaster.
Earlier that evening, Henry had found Hans here in the back room of the bathhouse. It was a wonder he hadn't grown webbed feet by now. There was only one bathtub in the candlelit area. Besides Hans, there was one of the bathhouse ladies, Klara by name, who only looked after him personally. Not in a lewd way. She only brought warm water, more wine, dancing and entertainment. She kept insisting that she was already married.
Hans had asked Henry to join him in the bathtub as soon as he had entered the chamber. Only to realize a little later that he didn't like the wine and that Henry should get something better. Even in his wet, almost undressed state, Henry was able to steal the desired Red Silvana from the council cellar. The evening got even happier with the good wine, until Henry was sent out again to pick flowers for the lady from the bathhouse. Henry cursed himself for not being able to refuse those blue eyes. He picked the flowers for Hans, not for Klara.
With the magnificent bouquet of flowers in his hand, he returned to the bathhouse, where a crowd of people had gathered. A babble could be heard from inside. Henry entered. Archibald, Klara's husband, accused Hans of having slept with his wife, or at least of intending to do so. Instead of denying this, Hans unhelpfully made fun of his opponent's name. When the latter became obviously annoyed and pushed Hans' head under the water, Henry had to intervene.
“The bathmaid and her quarrelsome husband are gone. Come on.” The water in the bathtub splashed back and forth as Hans plopped himself back into it. “It's even still warm.”
When he sat down, it reached just below his chest. His blond hair was still wet from the assassination attempt. He brushed it back from his forehead in a casual motion and folded his hands behind his head. Intentionally or not, he gave Henry a good look at his upper body. Henry had made the decision directly.
“Alright, Sir, but only if you don't send me away a third time.” Henry would not bear the cold of the night after the warm water again. Nor would he leave Hans behind.
Hans thought about it. “In that case, ... bring the remaining bottles of wine and the bunch of flowers.”
“The flowers?” Henry asked, irritated. He could explain to himself the alcohol.
“Yes, after all, you picked those with great effort.”
Henry shrugged his shoulders and did as his master had instructed.
The water was still more than pleasantly warm. It loosened the linen shirt and trousers from the embrace of his body. Hans held his wooden jug out to him and Henry filled it up without a word. He toasted with the bottle himself, after all he still had some catching up to do.
Hans happily placed his tankard on the stool next to the tub and pulled two flowers from the bouquet. With his nail, he pressed a notch into the stem of one flower and pulled the stem of the other through it. He took the next flower and repeated the process.
“What are you doing?” Henry watched him attentively. He had rarely seen Hans so focused. He was also surprised that he was still able to focus at all given his alcohol consumption.
“You're not telling anyone about this, do you understand?” Hans looked up examiningly from his work to Henry.
“If I even remember all this tomorrow,” Henry replied with a grin, lifting his bottle and taking a few sips. The wine was good. Henry could tell good wine from bad wine. However, he didn't recognize the difference between the standard wine that was regularly served here and the Red Silvana in his hand. But if Hans thought it was fantastic, he certainly wouldn't waste it.
“I guess so.” Hans picked up the next flower. “When I was little, my female cousins came to visit once. No other playmates my age were available. That's when the girls taught me this.” He twisted the corner of his mouth as the memory took on a bitter aftertaste: “My parents weren't particularly happy about the gift. They scolded me, saying it was only for the girls.”
As a few more flowers joined the weave, Henry could see what it was going to be.
“A flower crown.”
“ How quickly you figured that out,” his words dripped with irony. “Sometimes I wonder how you of all people were able to solve the murders.”
“Probably with a bit of luck,” Henry said modestly.
“A hell of a lot of it!” Hans burst out. He grinned, but then shook his head. “Don't hide your light under a bushel. You're brilliant.” Hans held the string to Henry's head to see if he had already arranged enough flowers. His eyes examined each flower carefully. He turned Henry's head to the side.
“The flower crown is for me?”
“For whom else? I'm already a nobleman, I don't need a crown anymore.”
The second major point that separated them. They belonged to different social classes. While Hans was a nobleman, Henry was just a simple blacksmith's son. While society strictly adhered to the separation, Henry found it difficult to show proper respect for the higher classes.
“You're not a king,” Henry objected.
“Don't you dare! That would be far too stressful for me. The only reason to ascend to the throne would be to share your genius with the whole country if you became my official advisor.” Hans grinned. “But I think I'd rather keep that genius all to myself.”
Hans' compliment, his touch and his attention made Henry blush. If he wasn't already. He had come up with suitable retorts should Hans mention this. It's the warm water. The wine has gone to my head. The fucking asshole hit me there. But Hans didn't ask about it.
“How can you have such a huge head,” Hans groaned instead, annoyed when he realized that the flower chain wasn't long enough.
“The genius just needs space.”
They flapped around while Hans added the missing flowers. Henry had started to hand them to him. At one point, their hands touched as Hans reached for the flower. Over the past month, they had already touched each other many times, unintentionally and intentionally. But this was one of those touches that felt different to Henry. One that made his heart beat faster.
Hans had finished the floral crown and carefully placed it on the brown hair. Henry had leaned forward a little. He was so close to Hans' face.
“This here's the apology for being such an asshole sometimes.”
“Oh, you know that?”
“Yes. I usually realize it too late and then I definitely don't admit it.”
“Amazingly reflective of you.”
“Henry, I'm going to repeat it once more for your satisfaction and then that's the end of the subject for tonight. ...I'm an asshole.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Damn it. You should have disagreed with me. It doesn't work like that!”
“Your hubris is big enough.”
Hans lowered his hands from the crown to Henry's shoulders. Their warmth could be felt through the thin fabric.
“The crown looks good on you. After all, I made it.” An exaggeratedly smug grin. Henry stared at Hans's lips.
“Can I call myself King of the forest gnomes now?”
“Guess that title doesn't belong to any other moron yet.” Henry looked up from his lips into Hans's eyes again. His gaze was intimate. Made Henry's blood run hotter. Seemed to last an eternity.
“And now?” Henry asked dreamily.
Hans broke eye contact and slumped back against the wall of the barrel. His gaze wandered around the room. The walls were made of plain wood, a few chairs stood around and towels hung on the wall. An empty wooden bucket, which Klara had used to bring the hot water, lay on the floor.
“No idea. No crappy chick there to entertain you.” There was now open frustration in Hans' voice. Henry was unsure where this was coming from, but he was sure it wasn't from the lack of a bathhouse lady.
“Turn around,” Henry said in a spontaneous idea.
“Are you giving me orders now, peasant?”
“Only suggestions, of course, your most reverend Lord.”
Hans grinned. Henry knew only too well that his counterpart liked his sometimes rebellious behavior. He turned around as requested. Henry put his hands on Hans' shoulders and began to massage him.
The wet shirt crumpled up and made his work unnecessarily difficult. Henry was also afraid of scratching the skin underneath with the fabric.
“Take your clothes off.” When Hans didn't respond directly, Henry added, “Just a suggestion.”
“An unusual suggestion to his master, but appropriate to the situation.” Hans struggled to get out of the top that wouldn't come off his skin. Henry helped him out of the piece with a few deliberate hand movements. The fabric then landed on one of the chairs at the edge.
Hans' back was even paler than his face. No wonder, since it was always covered by armor or expensive robes. A few circular scars adorned the skin. Bolts had the potential to pierce armor. A good or bad quality, depending on whether you were the person with the crossbow. Ultimately, the scars showed that Hans was not idle, but fighting side by side with his men.
“Anything more happening there, Henry, or have you fallen asleep?”
“Sorry.” Henry's hands hovered hesitantly over Hans' shoulders for a moment. The other man's skin was warm, moist and soft. No surprise and yet it felt so much better under his hands than he would have expected. Henry had never massaged another person before, but he had been massaged on a few visits to the various bathhouses. He tried to emulate his experiences as best he could.
“Damn, that feels good,” Hans sighed. “Why are you so damn good at everything you do?”
“If it's too tight, hurts or there's a spot you don't want me to touch, let me know.”
“Henry, I'm not a fragile doll. Go ahead.”
Henry felt a tight spot. A knot in the muscles, he assumed. He carefully stroked it several times, pressing lightly. Hans, who had been sitting quietly until now, let out a groan.
Henry stared at the man in front of him. That was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. No, it was the most beautiful. Hans himself was incredibly beautiful.
Hans had broad shoulders and a narrow waist for a man. This ideal physique was steeled with a few muscles from combat training. Blond hair shaved short on the sides, and blue eyes framed by light eyelashes completed the look.
Henry also had blue eyes, one now particularly blue, but that was only a temporary souvenir from Archibald. Henry's body was stronger than Hans's. His muscles had not been sculpted by exercise, but by simple honest work. In his youth, he helped his father in the smithy and taken on just about any job that came his way. Otherwise, he looked like any other man with his short brown hair. There wasn't anything striking about him.
“What is it? Are you continuing?” Impatience resonated in the voice. Henry hadn't noticed how he was lost in thought again. He continued to knead the man in front of him and the final thought slipped through his mind once more. Hans was incredibly beautiful and annoying. Henry grinned.
Soft moans escaped Hans again and again. Until he finally commented on almost every touch with a pleasurable sound. Henry was glad that Hans was still sitting at some distance from him, because the tension made him realize again that he was still wearing pants underwater. Henry's massage had become bolder, away from his shoulders, to his neck, sideways down his spine to his lower back. The noise became louder.
Henry slid back to his neck and down Hans' strong arms. It was noticeable that Hans liked to duel. When he reached Hans' fingers, they intertwined with his. Hans guided Henry's hand further down to his crotch. His cock was hard.
The unspoken request stood in the room. Hans didn't turn around. He waited.
Henry followed the request with enthusiasm, even though he did his best not to let it show. Hans' penis was now much bigger than the outline in his pants had suggested. Hans must have lowered his pants further during the massage.
Henry's hand stroked the shaft from bottom to top. He explored with his hand what he couldn't see with his eyes. He felt the veins on the underside, the retracted foreskin and the exposed glans. Once Henry had felt everything, he began making slow up and down movements.
Hans sighed with pleasure and let himself sink back against Henry. He felt Henry's cock against his spine and shuddered forward. He turned to face Henry.
Stunned, accusatory and rash, he asked: “Are you horny for me?”
Henry would not boost Hans' ego. Not to mention the fact that he didn't know whether Hans would take it as a compliment or be disgusted. After all, his desire was still a sin. He replied diplomatically with a joke: “When you moan like the last whore.”
“Only because your little fingers are as delicate as a wench's!”
They stared at each other and burst out laughing. When they recovered their breath, they looked at each other indecisively.
Finally, Hans found the words first to give Henry a new order: “Damn Henry. Don't leave me hanging now. ...or standing.”
“Is the gentleman too fine to jerk himself off?” Sometimes Henry had too much fun teasing. To reinforce the occasional disobedience.
“No, he's not. But you, as with everything, are simply better at it.” Hans rolled his eyes over this. That he even had to speak it out.
“Ah, and what about me?”
“About you?”
“About me. As you just discovered, I'm horny too.”
“You've got two hands, Henry,” Hans said, punctuating his statement with his usual snooty shrug. Henry became angry. Annoyed with Hans, but also with himself. Why the hell did his heart have to beat faster for a guy like that?
“I'm not your boy toy, Hans!” Hans sat there wide-eyed and crossed his arms. Henry wasn't sure if his message had gotten through. Could he even look angry with a crown of flowers and a black eye? “You're back to being the pampered prick we were just talking about!”
“I know.” He huffed and relaxed his crossed arms again. “I just don't want to embarrass myself.”
“Embarrass?”
“If you don't like it.”
“You'll probably have plenty of practice with yourself.”
“I've always had women available for that. I never had to lend a hand myself.”
Henry raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “That's fine with me. Assuming you haven't had any practice. I certainly won't be telling people on the streets tomorrow how bad you were at rubbing my cock off.”
“Fuck you!” Hans's voice was exhilarated again and he lashed Henry with water. Henry's reflexes were good enough from the countless fights and brawls to grab Hans' hand before he could pull it back.
He used his touch to move Hans into the position he wanted. The latter leaned back against the edge of the bathtub again, while Henry kneeled in front of him. Henry had placed Hans' spread legs over his knees.
“I'll gladly let you make the first move, Sir Hans,” Henry provoked his counterpart and let go of his hand.
“With pleasure, if you feel too shy for that now.” The hand, now free again, dipped below the surface of the water. “Audentes fortuna iuvat.” Hans grinned broadly.
“You're a total idiot,” Henry joked about the incomprehensible formula in Latin. Something Hans must have read in a book and would now repeat over the next few days whenever a situation seemed remotely appropriate. Partly to demonstrate his superiority over the common people, partly out of sheer joy. Henry would eventually do him the favor of asking what the words even meant. But not now.
Hans kept his challenging gaze on Henry. His fingers first touched Henry's stomach muscles under the shirt floating in the water. They were still twitching with laughter. Hans' hand found their way into the pants. Henry's laughter stopped.
How long had he waited for this moment? How often had he imagined Hans touching him there while he was pleasuring himself? His thoughts had always been much more romantic than this clumsy fling in the lukewarm water of the bathhouse. But it was real and that made it much better than his mind games. At least it was real for the moment. In the morning, neither of them would ever say a word about this aftermath. Henry hoped the alcohol wouldn't take that memory away from him. He wanted to lock it away in his heart forever.
Hans' hand was just as warm as the bath water and could be felt just from the pressure it exerted. Hans grabbed Henry's cock overconfidently and janked it in one swift movement. Henry let out a forced gasp.
“Slow down or are you planning to rip my balls off?” scolded Henry.
“I just wanted to hear if you also sound like a woman. ...and unfortunately, I don't have such fine fingers as you.” Hans' words were sharp as always. Henry just shook his head in disbelief.
“Wait and see,” Henry threatened and now reached for Hans' penis himself. Fortunately, he was the more sensible of the two. Otherwise, this would probably have ended in an unhealthy duel or cock comparison in which neither of them would have emerged victorious.
Henry's grip was as gentle as before as he stroked his hand up and down the penis. Hans blinked, his eyes closed while he enjoyed himself. His face could look so peaceful.
Now Hans began to imitate Henry's movements. Henry felt the fingers and the swirling of the water. He could have closed his eyes to focus completely on these feelings, but there was this lovely face in front of him.
No arm's length could fit between them. Henry wanted to kiss Hans. The man would only notice when Henry's soft lips were on his. How would he react?
Henry didn't dare. A kiss, that would have been conclusive. He would openly confess his feelings to Hans. The uncertainty about Hans' reaction was too great. Their friendship was at stake.
Perhaps Hans was still dismissing this in his mind as comradely assistance in the absence of suitable women. Henry didn't know whether Hans felt the same as he did and, if he did, whether Hans was prepared to admit these feelings or whether he would become defensive.
Even the slow movements made Henry want to come. This was directly contrary to the desire to make the moment an eternity. To never let this experience end. But the end would come. He would soon die his little death.
“Faster, Hans,” Henry demanded and Hans followed his wish without any comment. Hans' rhythm not only quickened, but his grip also tightened. A deep, lustful growl escaped Henry's throat, further encouraging Hans.
Hans opened his eyes again and was caught directly by Henry's gaze. Both showed the same curiosity for the other.
“Dam-!” Henry's voice failed halfway through the word. The familiar tension ran through his body, his heart pounding even faster than before he came. He enjoyed the spark that burned inside him and that Hans had ignited.
And he would now return the favor. With his free hand, he adjusted the flower crown on his head and with the other, he moved again across Hans' best piece. While he had been indulging in his own climax, he had neglected him a little. Now he realized that Hans hadn't complained about it.
He sat relaxed in front of him again. Leaning casually against the edge of the bath with his arms open over it. His eyes were closed. Henry's gaze wandered from that face to his neck and down his chest muscles. He regretted that he could only make out shadows through the surface of the water.
Hans was completely vulnerable to Henry. He trusted him completely. And Henry would not take advantage of this, even though his head was already showing him another dozen ways how he could kiss Hans. Half of them ended with Hans trying to drown him afterwards.
Henry hadn't expected Hans to be so vocal during the act. He listened to every sweet sound his counterpart made. What a delicious reward for his handiwork. Henry varied his technique. Sometimes he only used two fingers, sometimes the whole hand. He added a rotation or pushed his cock down. The moans revealed what Hans particularly preferred.
Hans was getting closer and closer to his climax. Henry felt Hans' penis getting even harder. Three more strokes, Hans' head fell back and he came with a loud gasp. He hung his head and took several deep breaths.
“Shit, Henry. That was fucking good.”
Henry let go of him and slid back to the other side of the tub. If he continued to be near Hans, he feared he wouldn't be able to hold back the kiss.
“Thank you for the praise. I have to admit that you weren't bad either.”
“Not bad?! I made you come first!” protested Hans, jolting his head up.
“Not everything is a competition.” Henry shook his head in amusement. Everything was the same as before.