Archive of Our Own

I can't even, I can't even believe what you did to me
You can't even, you can't even say I'm overreacting
I can't even, can't even hear your side
Shame on me, you fooled me twice

***

Henry didn’t have it in him to feel positive emotions anymore. The recent events have bled him dry – the death of his parents, his friends, his comrades, the innocent people. The death of his friendship with Hans Capon, now tainted with feelings he had no longer space for, for it already occupied his entire being. Whenever the blacksmith thought about the lord, bile rose in his throat and threatened to choke him – the lust, the love, the desire; it was overwhelming. Henry felt like smashing his own heart (and head) with a hammer until it turned into a bloody mush of skin, bone and flesh. He wanted to rip out all the tendons and arteries in his neck, craft them into a slick, bloody noose and hang himself. That’s what love felt like. Love that a certain someone was about to take away from him. He watched the scene unfolding in front of him with an unreadable expression etched into his features. It was all so sickeningly beautiful – the decorations, the music, the food, the cheerful people, the bride.

But especially the groom.

He knew Hans didn’t choose his fate – it was his uncle who chose his future for him; as he always did. But a small part of Henry was furious at the young lord that he didn’t try harder; that his family legacy occupied a larger part of Hans’ heart than Henry did. He was furious that no matter what, they could never be together in the way they wanted. If Hans gave the word, Henry would comply immediately. He’d gather all his belongings, climb on Pebbles and ride into the wilderness, hoping it would swallow them both whole like the jaws of the devil himself. But Hans was likely too scared, too selfish to leave everything behind and take the leap of faith with him. Henry hated him for it.

He hated that he mattered so little.

***

Hans watched him from afar – he saw through his bride; he saw through Hanush’s content half-smile targeted his way, finally happy that he managed to break Hans into submission; he saw through the wall of people who tried to steal a moment with the newlyweds. He wasn’t fully present, his mind wandered elsewhere. Hans slithered through the endless abyss full of memories, most of them shared with one person only. He understood his dread, his passion, his free spirit. He even understood the urge to drink and wench without control – for it was just a front, a cover that hid and kept his true self safe. He knew every single part of him, both mental and physical – yet he never judged him. He just stood watch as he always did, his hawk eyes spying for a sign of an intruder; someone who would want to ruin a seemingly perfect moment.

It would never be perfect until his Henry stood at the altar instead of the young girl he was being forced to marry.

Yet, Henry didn’t seem to understand. From afar, Hans could see the anger clouding his grey-blue eyes, usually so bright, cheerful and kind. The Henry he saw at the wedding ceremony was just a shell of the man – a being powered by spite and some unknown evil Hans felt strangely drawn to. As if he knew that no matter how brutal Henry could be to others, he would never hurt him. Before the esteemed guests escorted the newlyweds to their chambers to consummate the marriage, Hans tried to seek Henry out. He excused himself to take a walk through the castle grounds he knew as the back of his hand, but in the dark, it suddenly seemed unfamiliar. Shadows lurked in the corners, his mind creating peculiar projections in their wake. The walls that stood tall around him as he walked through the darkened halls seemed to close in on him, causing him to speed up. Hans didn’t know where he was going – and he didn’t have the chance to figure it out, because the second he thought to turn around and walk back, a firm calloused hand clamped over his mouth. His first instinctual reaction was to kick and scream, maybe elbow the intruder in the face, but once a familiar scent hit his nostrils, he went limp in the forceful arms like a rag doll. The stranger put a second hand on his chest and pressed him flush to his own body, simultaneously walking backwards. Hans had found himself suddenly enveloped in a scent he knew perfectly – manly musk and a little tinge of leather and forest greenery that seemed to linger no matter how hard the intruder tried to get rid of it.

“Henry,” he whispered once the hand left his mouth, his voice shaking with both fear and excitement. The man in question just grunted something as Hans heard a door swing shut, and they were suddenly entrenched in complete darkness. The arm that pushed against his chest left his body as well, but Hans didn’t move to step away from his captor. He stood right there, feeling air flow to the nape of his neck, Henry’s breath thick and hot on his skin like some vile beast’s. Hans slowly turned around and swallowed it, his lips inching towards Henry’s painfully slowly. The second their lips brushed, Henry lunged forward and captured Hans’ lips in a hungry kiss. He kissed him like a starved man, the tip of his tongue circling the contour of his lips, roughly pushing inside and plundering his mouth. Hans was struggling to keep up with the feverish rhythm his lover set, but he found intense pleasure in feeling helpless against him. When Henry finally slowed down and sucked in his lower lip in a surprisingly delicate, tender way, Hans moaned.

“I’m just here to remind you of one simple thing,” Henry growled, his gleaming eyes boring into Hans in the darkness.

“And what in the world would that be, my dear knight?” Hans whispered with challenge to his tone. He liked to tease him and push Henry’s buttons – to see how far he could go before his control snapped and he claimed him with force. But even when he was being aggressive, Henry still cared about Hans’ comfort – never too rough, never too tender. He was just right. Everything about Henry felt right – the feeling of his lips touching Hans’s skin, his large hands squeezing the meat of his body, his thick cock pushing between his thighs and causing Hans to lose himself in the lustful haze. His body shuddered against Henry’s as his mind drifted towards the memories of the last time they fucked, the lower part of his body already betraying his growing arousal. Hans’ eyes drifted towards Henry’s lips; his light blue eyes almost black as the enlarged pupils swallowed most of the colour.

“You’re mine, Hans. Mine alone,” Henry stated the obvious and Hans felt a shiver creep down his spine, more heat pooling in his stomach. “If that wench thinks she could steal you away from me, she’s gravely mistaken. I’ll go to the end of the world if that means I could have you for myself only.”

Henry palmed Hans’ semi-hard cock through his pants and hummed in agreement at the sensation.

“Now, Hans. Be a good boy and go and fuck your wife,” Henry whispered, a tinge of cruelty lacing his voice as if he knew something Hans didn’t. He didn’t want to go through with any of this wedding nonsense, so it helped immensely to have Henry rile him up like this.

He would be thinking about Henry when he would stick his cock between his wife’s legs; he would be thinking about Henry as he came undone and spilled himself into her womb.

***

Henry finally felt good about himself.

He managed to leave the Hans Capon a completely flustered, wanton mess – he could see it in his gaze as the blonde man stared into his eyes, pretty much begging him to bend him over on the spot and take what was rightfully his. And that, Henry would do soon enough. The blacksmith-turned-knight-turned-occasional-assassin was now on his way to his chambers in the Rattay castle. Long gone were the days when he would reside in a shed across the stables – Hans made sure that his personal bodyguard would be well-taken care of. And conveniently close to him, too.

However, the proximity was torturous now. Henry knew damn well what was going on just a couple rooms away from his own chambers. Hans was also preparing for a brave feat, getting ready to bed his new wife when all he wanted was for Henry to pin him to his own bed and fuck him into oblivion. Henry smirked to himself – he had the young lord wrapped around his finger, but so did he – Hans knew very well Henry would do just about anything for him. No sin was too grave for them if it could help them keep their little slice of heaven. And while Hans might not say it out loud, Henry knew he would approve. He had to, because Henry wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

Henry got dressed, as meticulous and methodical as ever. He changed the flashy noble attire for something far less dramatic – a simple black pourpoint and matching pants, a dagger discreetly strapped to his thigh for easy access, a couple of lockpicks tucked into his boot. Everything was planned – every move, every word he could possibly utter. He had nothing to lose, no titles, no land, only his worthless reputation. He swore to keep Hans happy and safe, and he was willing to wipe out every possible threat that could pose against his lord. Henry knew he’d have to wait for things to settle, for the castle to fall asleep, for Hans to crawl away from everyone lathered in shame and his own unwilling release; so that Henry could strike and wipe the sad expression off his face with his lips and tongue and fingers.

And Henry was known to be a patient man.

When he finally decided to step out of his chambers two hours later, the hallways of the Rattay castle were silent. As expected, he could hear a shuffling of feet and a slam of the door as soon as the deed was – presumably – done. He could recognize the footsteps anywhere; light and precise, but stubborn. Henry knew it was Hans going God-knows-where to unwind, completely oblivious to the disgusting, devious plan Henry’s lovesick mind decided to put into motion. Henry made his way towards Hans’ chamber, the one where he would reside with Jitka, his new fucking wife. He had to knock out a couple of guards on his way there, but it was no big feat for a man like Henry. When he reached the door, he pressed his ear to the wood, waiting for any sign of life inside the room. When he was sure the interior was dead silent, he quickly bent over and reached into his boot for the lockpick. Henry began to pick the lock, silent as a ghost. The practice has paid off – he picked at least a couple hundreds of chests and locks across the region and no lock could stand in his way now. He worked quickly, but precisely. When he could finally hear the lock click and slide open, a shiver of desire ran down his spine. However, he wasn’t excited for the person inside. It was the lord who ran away who stood in the centre of his attention. Hans occupied his mind all the time – Henry was used to that little demon driving him crazy, but he’d rather exorcise him by indulging in sin with him.

Henry slowly opened the door and crawled inside the room; his eyes fixed on the bed. He tried not to think about the things that likely happened there just a while ago – Hans sitting between her legs, his precious cock trying to slide inside her. Henry was positive it wasn’t a success; the way Hans slammed the door after he was done bedding his wife betrayed him. A part of Henry felt bad for him – it would do no good in the already horrible marriage if he wasn’t able to fulfill his husbandly duties – however, a smaller, evil part of Henry revelled in Hans’ misery. It meant the lord would keep coming back to him; to seek comfort and pleasure in his arms, to dry his tears in the hair on Henry’s chest.

When he leaned in to watch over Jitka’s sleeping form, he tried not to think about Hans’ hands roaming her body. Instead, he grabbed his dagger and plunged it into her neck – once, twice, three times. With each hit, blood spurred from the wound, bathing his face, chest and hands in hot red liquid. The metallic smell of blood tickled his nostrils, but Henry stood watch over her dying body, nonetheless. He watched the light leave her eyes, absorbing the life he shamelessly stole away from her. Henry knew the consequences would likely be grave – there was no way he could get away with murdering the new lady of Rattay.

But he would find a way, as he always did.

Henry picked up the dead body bridal-style and walked towards the door. He kicked the door open and stepped into the hallway. As he carried the body to his own chambers, the wheels inside of his mind were already spinning as he was trying to come up with a way to get rid of the body. He would think about it in the morning, right now, he had other plans. He put the body on the floor, not caring about the blood that was now seeping into the wood. Henry made his way back towards Hans’ room – and this time, the lord was already there, as if the sin committed in the midst of their bedroom summoned him back. As if he was waiting for Henry to do it. Henry looked Hans in the eye. The lord was staring at him, his mouth agape, but something dark swirled in his pupils.

“What the hell, Henry?”

Henry shrugged, ever so nonchalant, as he slowly approached the young lord as if he was a wild animal that could be easily spooked. He stopped just a couple inches away from him, trying to figure out the emotions that swirled in his features – somehow, Hans looked terrified and intrigued at the same time. Henry watched his eyes scan his body, the now drying blood of his late wife, the aroused gleam in his gaze. At last, Hans looked him in the eye again, his pupils massive.

“I do it all for you, my love. Everything I do, I do it for you. I told you that I don’t share,” Henry growled, his voice thick with desire. His eyes darted to Hans’ neck; he watched the young lord gulp. Henry licked his lips, hoping he could taste the sweat that now prickled the skin of Hans’ neck. He was scared; Henry could tell. But something, somehow, made him take the leap of faith and press his lips to Henry’s again. This time, it was Hans who kissed him with violent fervour. His hands went into Henry’s hair and tugged harshly, causing Henry to hiss slightly. However, the knight quickly matched the lord’s feverish pace, their lips moving together in a deadly dance. Hans started to moan into his mouth the second Henry decided to slow down and taste him properly – the tip of his tongue slowly circled the contour of Hans’ lips, exploring the exquisite shape. He sucked in his lower lip, and when Hans’ tongue darted out to do the same, Henry caught it and started to lightly suck on it. He sucked on Hans’ tongue as if it was his cock, and when he opened his eyes for a second, he saw Hans’ eyelids flutter with desire. He broke the obscene kiss with a wet popping sound.

“Fuck me, Henry. Please,” Hans whispered. The second the words left his lips, his hands started to roam – Henry could feel his gentle fingers run through the hair on his forearms, smearing the blood on his skin and clothes. When the roaming hands reached his neck and face, the blood was everywhere; apparently, Hans found some sick pleasure in seeing the violent aftermath of Henry’s jealousy.

“Say that again, Hans,” Henry growled, slowly pushing Hans backwards. The back of his knees found the edge of the bed and Hans abruptly sat down, his eyes never leaving Henry’s, the hungry look etched into his features mixed with something ruthless. Henry waited for a couple seconds longer, but Hans was silent, his lips pressed tightly together. “Well, if you’re not willing to talk, I’ll make you scream.”

Before Henry captured his lips again, he saw Hans smirk ever so slightly. That goddamn tease, Henry thought as he kissed him again and dropped his hands to the clasps of his pourpoint. They weren’t subtle about the shared need to get naked – the clothes were tossed away quickly and without care. When they were finally naked, Henry knelt at the edge of the bed, his eyes shamelessly scanning Hans’s body. It wasn’t just a look, he simply stared – like a man who just saw water for the very first time in his life and decided he’d drink as much as he could before his guts would explode. His eyes lingered on the plains of his body, perfect in all of its imperfections, now streaked with the blood of his own dead wife. Henry slowly placed a hand on Hans’s ankle and pressed his lips to his shin. His lips dragged upwards, rested on his knee for a couple second before he turned his head and started to kiss his inner thighs. A slow, delicious kind of torture. Hans’ legs already trembled under his palm, and he just barely touched him.

The longer Hans stared at Henry, the worse the realization hit him – he was utterly, properly, fucked. Not only figuratively speaking, but quite literally. Not only Henry was devastatingly gorgeous, but also the epitome of the perfect hero. Hans hated the fact that his squire had to save him on more than one occasion, but at the same time, he loved seeing Henry do it. The pure masculine power that emanated from that man was almost unbearable; Hans found himself choking on it whenever Henry displayed any of his extraordinary abilities. And even when he was being a ruthless murderer, Hans couldn’t help it but admire him. The pure determination that man possessed was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Hans, just like Henry, couldn’t care less about the consequences of their actions – at least for now. Right now, they were reaping the fruits of their shared effort. Or Hans was being punished for his passivity in the sweetest, most torturous way he could possibly imagine.

“Henry,” Hans moaned, his voice a desperate cry for release. The man in question peeked up at him from where he was taking his time kissing his inner thigh. One of his hands shot up and grabbed Hans by the jaw, squeezing his cheeks so hard it hurt, forcing him to look him in the eye. When he spoke, Hans could feel Henry’s hot breath caress the skin of his exposed cock. That alone sent a shiver of desire down his spine and another moan escaped his mouth as his fingers curled around Henry’s forearm, tangled in the fine hair that covered it.

“What did I tell you to say when you want something, my lord?” Even though Henry used his formal title, Hans felt small. Tiny, even. It was no surprise at all Henry found out that Hans liked to be degraded – people who held power in their hands on the outside often liked to feel like scum beneath someone’s boot in private.

And Henry was more than happy to give Hans that fantasy.

“Please,” the lord whispered, almost choking on the word. Henry chuckled softly and eased the pressure on Hans’ jawline, releasing it altogether at last. Hans grabbed his hand before he could use it again, and pressed his nose to his forearm, breathing in his scent.

“That’s my good little lord,” Henry said, his voice laced with condescension, before he dipped his head lower and sucked one of Hans’ balls into his mouth, causing him to moan – again and definitely not for the last time tonight. Henry gently wriggled his arm from Hans’ grasp and let his index and middle finger caress his lips, gently urging the lord to open his mouth. And he obliged – he licked Henry’s fingers as he sucked on them, tasting the salt of their mixed sweat. Henry smirked against his crotch and released Hans’ ball from his mouth with an obscene wet sound before he licked it in a slow, languid motion, the sound of Hans’ moans the music to his ears. Henry hummed against the soft, sensitive skin, his lips gently dragging along the length of Hans’ cock before he finally captured the head between his lips, lightly sucking on it.

“You taste so good, Hans,” Henry breathed out and slowly swallowed the entire length of his cock, his head bobbing up and down as he was taking him deep in his throat. When his lips touched Hans’s balls, his tongue darted out and licked them again, his own spit mixed with Hans’ precum running down his chin and pooling between Hans’ thighs. He could feel Hans’ fingers tense where they were fisting his hair, his thighs trembling in his peripheral vision. Henry moved his head up and down, swallowing his cock in the process, again and again, and Hans’ thighs soon encapsulated him in the heat. He could no longer hear his moans because the lord locked his head within his crotch with a surprisingly strong force of his legs. Hans’ thighs pressed Henry’s head in place, his ankles crossed at the nape of his neck.

“For fuck’s sake, Henry. You suck my cock so well,” he squeezed out, his voice breaking when Henry hit a particularly sensitive spot. Finally, Henry decided to stop the torture and released his cock from his mouth – and earned himself a disappointed whine as he pushed himself up on his forearms to face Hans again. Before Hans could say something, Henry silenced the complaint with his lips.

“Lay on your stomach,” Henry ordered him. Naturally, Hans didn’t move a muscle, only challenged him with a defiant look. “You brat,” Henry added as he grabbed Hans by the hips and easily flipped him. His hard cock rested against Hans’ ass, basically begging him to finally dive deep inside of him, but that could wait. Henry was here to pleasure his lord, Hans’ satisfaction was always on the forefront of his mind. So he dipped his head again and kissed Hans’ shoulder, then the muscular planes of his shoulder blades, moving down towards the small of his back, his kisses leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reached Hans’ ass, he grabbed the cheeks with his hands and slowly kneaded them – he enjoyed the feeling of the soft, firm muscle beneath his calloused palms, the friction causing Hans to whimper into the pillow.

“Shhh,” Henry soothed him as his palms began to spread his ass cheeks apart, taking in the view of his pink hole waiting for him there. Henry didn’t wait and buried his face in his ass, his tongue licking Hans’ hole the way he kissed his lips earlier – hungry, without shame, enjoying every second of it. He could feel Hans lift his hips ever so slightly, silently urging Henry to slip his hand underneath him and grab his cock. And as the obedient knight he was, Henry did. He wrapped his hand around Hans’ cock and began to stroke him as he kissed and licked his hole again, Hans’ moans filling his ears, never-ending.

And it made Henry feel like he was standing on the top of the world. The greatest prize he could ever receive – not swords, not titles, not lands – but the hypnotic sound and sight of his beloved writhing and whimpering under his lips.

“I can’t take it anymore, I need you inside me,” Hans whispered. Henry suddenly stopped his ministrations and lifted his head, licking his lips as he pushed himself up. He rested his lips against Hans’ ear, gently grazing his teeth along his earlobe.

“Yeah, I bet you do, Hans. Do you remember how my cock felt the last time I was fucking you? How you moaned into my mouth so that nobody at the Devil’s Den would hear you? You sound heavenly when you beg for my cock, you little rascal.”

With that, Henry grabbed Hans’ thighs and pushed his legs apart. He pushed his cock in the small opening that his legs created, dipping it into the heat. It was nowhere near as good as the actual feeling of fucking Hans’ ass, but it was close. Henry’s slick cock slid against Hans’ own, the wet smacking sounds resonating through the room in an obscene way.

“Holy shit, I can’t wait to be inside you,” Henry moaned.

“Then do it, you turnip,” Hans gritted through his teeth breathlessly, already growing impatient. Henry growled and harshly slapped his ass, earning himself a startled yelp followed by a loud moan.

“You like it when I spank you, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Hans moaned when Henry’s hand landed on his ass again.

“Very well, then,” Henry sighed and grabbed Hans by the hips, turning him to face him again. Henry reached for the vial of oil that he knew stood on the bedside table without fail. He no longer worried himself with what Jitka would think of it, for it no longer mattered. Her blood had already dried on his skin, and with that, the memory of her disappeared. The flecks of dried blood will peel away with Hans’ hands roaming Henry’s skin, that was for sure. Henry opened the vial with his teeth, spitting out the corkscrew in the process. He caught Hans’ gaze – the man was completely enamoured with him, even as he watched him perform a task as mundane as this. His cheeks and chest were flushed, his breathing shallow and shaky as his body trembled underneath Henry’s in anticipation of what was to come.

“You look like a proper horny mess,” Henry chuckled as he poured the oil into his palm and started to smear the liquid across the length of his cock.

“It’s your fault that you’re so attractive and skilled in the bedroom,” Hans pouted, and Henry rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said, but the corners of his lips lifted up in a satisfied smile. Henry lined up his oiled-up cock with Hans’ entrance, running the tip up and down in a teasing manner. Hans frowned and grasped the back of his neck, pushing himself up on one elbow to reach Henry’s lips in a scalding kiss, urging him forward. “Such a greedy, impatient thing, you are,” Henry whispered into his mouth, his fingers tracing the edge of Hans’ ass.

The noble proved his point by straight up whining into his mouth like a cat waiting for a piece of something delicious. He truly resembled a feline creature – waiting to be stroked and pampered by his owner, cuddling up to him in a not-at-all-innocent manner.

“There we go,” Henry breathed out as he slowly pushed his cock inside him, inch by inch, letting Hans adjust to his size as he went. He could feel Hans’ hands tense in his hair, a silent cue for him to slow down. When Hans’ hand fell to his chest, he knew it was time to step things up. Henry started to move his hips in a slow, agonizing motion – and Hans immediately started to moan in unison with his movements. Every jerk of Henry’s hips was accompanied by a high-pitched whine, Hans’ eyes closed shut.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you,” Henry growled and grabbed Hans by the jaw again, forcing him to look him in the eyes. With that, he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into the noble, rough and urgent, but still perfectly controlled. With satisfaction, he watched Hans’ eyes roll into the back of his head, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, the fingers of his right hand curled in Henry’s chest hair, the left hand resting on his shoulders and tugging him close. “Look at me,” Henry urged again through gritted teeth.

And Hans did. He stared into his face, wide-eyed, breathless, unable to control his moans. His mouth was open, the corners of his lips slightly lifted up in a content smile. Henry was pretty sure that was the famous look of love – the eyes of his lover were almost black with pleasure, but he could see the flecks of stars embroidered into the dark blanket of his lust-crazed gaze.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The sound of sweaty naked bodies echoed through the room, mixing up with the moans and grunts from both of the men. Soon, they both stopped caring about keeping as silent as possible; at this point, they knew the punishment would come. The intruder was dead, and they celebrated – the death of the wife, the death of their friendship.

The birth of their unholy union.