Chapter Text
Part of being a nobleman was knowing how to read people.
What Sir Hans Capon may have lacked in brawn, he made up for with his wit, his silver tongue, and his ability to manipulate the peasants around him.
It didn’t take Hans long to read right through Henry.
Henry liked food.
And praise.
The blacksmith’s son was hungry for both.
The kind of hunger where you went for days without enough. A poor peasant boy left with a hole in his heart, bereft of the parental affection that was torn from him. But he wasn't weak or vulnerable. Henry was strong, young, the figure of strapping potential, a promising untamed colt on its way to becoming a nobleman’s prize-winning stallion.
A man that could be very useful for Hans to have in his service.
Hans decided to do what he knew best. He would make a loyal servant out of this blacksmith boy, and through training, he would turn a wild wolf-hound like Henry into a loyal and domesticated service pet.
——
Step 1: Feed him.
After Henry rescued him from the Cuman camp, Hans showered Henry in food, ale, and baths to show his appreciation for saving him. Whenever Henry would come inside from training with Captain Bernard all day, looking disheveled and exhausted, Hans would order one of his servants to prepare Henry a hearty meal.
“Thank you, my lord. I really am quite hungry.”
Henry was genuine in his gratitude, seeking out Hans in the dining hall at night to make sure his appreciation was expressed. Of course, this was all part of Hans' plan to nurture Henry’s loyalty to him.
“Eat to your heart's content, Henry!”
Hans gestured for Henry to join him at the table, calling wenches over to pour them a round of ale. “But first, have a drink with me!”
The wine and ale was being poured generously and a gathering of women and men had collected around them to hear Hans re-telling of their hunting excursion gone awry.
Hans purchased a few rounds, consumed a few too many, and encouraged Henry to match him tankard for tankard all the way. As the time fell away and the lanterns burned into the night, Hans found himself thoroughly drunk. He was weaving another version of their encounter with the Cuman camp, when he paused to ask Henry for detail... and discovered the man missing. Somehow during the last few drinks, Henry had disappeared out of Hans' sight.
The mystery was solved by the scrape of kitchen pantry doors opening near by, followed by feminine giggling. Hans followed the sound with his eyes to find Henry re-entering the dining hall from the servant's entrance.
Henry had clearly disappeared off into some private location with one of the wenches. Hans was furious. How dare he scurry away with someone else when Hans needed him. Henry was returning with the ties of his braies half unlaced and marks that resembled kisses on his neck.
Henry was obviously still drunk; swaying a little in his step as he approached, eyes blinking slowly. Hans had pressured Henry to drink without giving the boy a chance to eat his dinner first.
Henry was too drunk to notice the nobleman’s anger, approaching the table where Hans sat, and reaching for the untouched bowl of stew on the table.
Hans slapped Henry’s hand away from the bowl before he could take it.
“What—? Sir Hans… But you said…”
“Oh. Are you hungry now, Henry?" Hans didn't recognize the sound of jealousy in his own voice and was certainly too drunk to translate that emotion into one that made sense. "Did you work up an appetite in the pantry?”
Hans sneered, grabbing the bowl away from Henry’s reach and placing it on the ground between Hans' feet. “If you're so ungrateful for the food which I have purchased for you, then get on your knees and eat it like the mutt you are.”
Henry’s pink sweaty blush increased and he scowled at Hans, still uneasy on his feet as he swayed in place. “Apologies, my lord, if I forgot to say thank yo—“
"You weren’t here when I needed you, Henry." Hans firmly stood his ground. "So, now you’ll show me that you’re a Good Boy, and do as you’re told. That's an order.”
Hans watched as Henry turned his drunken scowl away from Hans and looked longingly down at the food, which was still warm, and smelled amazing.
Henry’s deep hunger, and ingrained inclination to obey, broke the bigger man’s resolve, just as Hans knew it would. And the blacksmith's son sunk slowly to his knees at Hans' feet.
Hans' breath caught in his throat.He couldn’t look away from the bulk of Henry’s body as it bent forward toward the floor where the bowl full of delicious food awaited. Shocked for a moment that Henry had actually submitted to the order to eat off the floor.
Just before Henry’s hands could reach for the food, Hans spoke:
“No hands. Keep them behind your back.”
Henry obeyed, his hands crossed behind his back, and Hans heart skipped a beat.
Without so much as another prompt, Henry licked and bit the food from the bowl without lifting it from the ground. A combination of drunken inhibition, and his deep-seated hunger, had outweighed Henry’s self consciousness as he bent forward on his knees and ate like a dog at Hans' orders.
It was late, most bar patrons drunk or passed out, and hardly anyone was witness to what was taking place in the dimly-lit corner of the dining hall between them.
Hans had never felt so powerful, watching this other man eat from the floor at his bidding.
When Henry had finished, he sat up, hands still behind his back and panting as he licked his lips. Hans couldn’t look away from the glazed look of satisfaction in Henry’s eyes. He was finally nourished, like a starving wolf who had found a generous human master to feed it through the harsh winter.
Hans was suddenly aware of how hard his erection was straining against his braies; so hard he thought it might burst through the laces.
Hans was so distracted by the shine of saliva on Henry’s lips and chin, he didn’t hear Henry as the man spoke.
“...What?”
“I said… May I be dismissed now, Sir?” Henry’s eyelids were drooping now, in a mix of sleepiness, a full stomach, and the ale in his blood.
He looked like a creature Hans could tame if he tried hard enough.
A smattering of giggles drew Hans attention to a few of the wenches still serving patrons, who were taking notice of their drunk escapades and probably wanted to follow Henry back to his rooms.
The thought of a wench taking Henry away for a ride in the hay made Hans glare. No. No, that would not do.
“No… You are not dismissed yet. First, you will be escorting me to my room.”
Henry brooked no argument and rose slowly, woozily, to his feet. “Aye, sir.” He reached for Hans and the nobleman let himself be guided to his own unsteady, drunken feet.
When they got to Hans room, Henry tried to leave Hans at the door, but Hans captured the man by the wrist.
“Get in here, Henry.”
“Sir Hans… You said you only needed help to your room…..”
“I need your help, Henry."
Hans knew he’d had too much to drink, but it didn't stop him. He pulled Henry into the room, pressing the door closed harder than necessary and barely having the wherewithal to lock the door.
Hans swayed toward his bed as Henry followed him closely behind.
Hans toppled onto the mattress and spread out on his back, wiggling out of his coat and tunic, pulling at buttons and belt loops.
“Help me undress, Henry.”
Henry dutifully reached for Hans' boots, unlacing them and tugging them free, before reaching next for the shoulders of Hans' undershirt, helping pull the material free from Hans' body until the nobleman was only wearing his braies.
Hans squirmed at the way Henry’s eyes were looking down at him spread out on the bed. The ale in his blood making Hans feel slow, and unbearably horny enough to speak his most depraved thoughts outloud:
“Service me, Henry.”
Hans placed one hand on his own stomach, watching Henry’s eyes follow the motion as the nobleman's un-calloused fingers slid down over the tent in his legging.
“Hans.”
“That's Sir Hans, to you! Are you going to disobey an order, Henry?” Hans pulled at the laces, loosening them. “Do what I say, and I’ll give you a treat…. for being a Good Boy.”
Hans knew the blacksmith boy liked praise, and he saw Henry’s gaze get softer at the 'Good Boy'. He wanted to be a Good Boy.
Henry’s eyes were locked on Hans’ fingers as Hans pulled his own painfully stiff erection out. Stroking himself once, twice, Hans choked his dick tightly at the base and groaned as it twitched in his own tight grip.
Henry’s eyes never looked away, following every movement.
For the second time that night, Henry sunk to his knees.
His hands found Capon’s thighs for purchase as he leaned over the smaller man's lap. Hans barely had time to register the submission before Henry ran the flat of his tongue up Hans' erection slowly. Hans' cock flexed under Henry’s tongue, jerking from the overwhelming sensation of those soft lips mixed with the abrasion of Henry’s stubble as his chin scraped the base of Hans' cock.Henry's movements were slow, savoring it, dragging more fluid out with licks to the leaking head.
The sight alone had Hans half way there already and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to immediately spill on Henry's stubbled lips. But the bigger man's tentative but earnest ministrations were too much. Hans couldn't hold back for long. He felt his control slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve, and he came while biting down hard on his tongue to silence the other man’s name.
Henry sat back, throat bobbing as he swallowed it all, lips swollen and spit shined. His eyes looked wild, the blue chased away by lustful black.
He rose to his feet, wobbly on sore knees, until he was standing next to Hans' bed. His own erection tenting out the already stretched out laces of his braies. Henry’s cheeks were pink and he looked lost in arousal, like he did not know what to do with it, as he looked down at Hans spread out on the bed.
Henry looked at him expectantly, like he was waiting for affirmation that he had done a good job.
“You did a good job, Henry. Well done.” His gaze finally found focus on Henry’s clothed erection and Hans sat up, reaching for Henry’s hips to drag him closer. “And now it’s time for your treat.”
Henry had no time to react before his own cock was free and Hans' warm hands were closed around it.
The nobleman was marveling at the size of Henry's erection; twice the size and girth of his own (much to his joy and dismay).
Hans' mouth watered for a moment of hesitation before measuring Henry’s length in kisses from base to tip. His tongue carefully traced the veins that decorated the peasant's sizable girth, up to the sensitive head, pink and glossy.
Hans paused to lift his eyes. Wanting to see Henry’s reaction as Hans collected the drip of fluid on his tongue and savored it.
Henry's gaze was glazed over with the shine of drink as he watched, and Hans wondered if either of them would remember this salacious act come morning.
With the flavor of Henry’s pre-cum already past his teeth, there was no turning back now. Hans opened his lips wider and tested how the head of Henry’s cock fit inside the warmth of his mouth. He moved it carefully deeper until it reached the back of his throat, out of curiosity, and then pulled away again just as he felt the brush of Henry’s fingers against his hair.
He swatted Henry’s hands away from his blond hair, licking his lips.
“If you pull my hair, I’ll neuter you.”
Henry whined in the back of his throat, tucking his hands behind his back again, for the second time that night, as Hans' mouth continued his experimental exploration.
Letting intuition guide him, Hans knew full well how good a blow job could feel and he was confident in his ability to mimic what felt good to him. Hans' tongue felt numbed by ale and for a moment, the nobleman felt his mind become empty of all thoughts, lost in his singular focus to worship the cock in his mouth.
He must have been doing something good because Henry’s length flexed, mid-suck, against Hans' numbed lips: the only warning the nobleman would receive before the first splash of Henry’s cum flooded his mouth.
Hans' throat tightened in response and he choked, attempting to pull back, but the hand he had forbidden Henry to use, was now at the back of Hans head, holding him in place. Denying Hans the escape he would need to avoid swallowing. Trapped, and frankly too shocked to stop it from happening, Hans swallowed against his will, angry at how good the harsh grip on his hair felt, how satisfying the flex of Henry’s cock in his throat felt.
Henry was wiped out by the time he was done cumming, his hand loosened on Hans hair. The bigger man swayed forward toward the mattress, clearly trying to climb onto Hans' bed.
Hans somehow managed to get his hands in between them before Henry could collapse on top of him, and pushed against Henry’s chest hard enough to push him off and onto the floor.
“Dogs dont sleep on the bed. You sleep on the floor.”
———————————
Hans woke with a splitting hangover, head ringing with a pain so fierce it felt as though lightning had struck through his skull. His mouth was as dry as a ditch and tased oddly bittersweet. The memory of that taste made Hans eyes spring open and he sat up in his disheveled bed.
What the fuck had he made Henry do last night?
The memory flooded sluggishly back: getting rock hard while watching Henry eat off the floor at his command and then somehow ending up in Hans' room drunkenly sucking each other off. He remembered how big Henry's hands had been on his thighs, the rough press of his tongue.
The sudden movement of sitting up made his vision spin but Hans maintained enough focus to look down and see Henry sleeping in a big sweaty pile on the floor. Not a blanket or pillow to his name, just hardwood under his head like a man passed out after a hard night's drinking. The faint rasp of Henry’s snore told Hans that the blacksmith's son was still asleep.
Hans sagged with relief; he didn't have to face Henry yet. He could try to gather his composure and somehow recover.
Looking around, Hans found a clean shirt and braies, yanking them on and belting up quickly. His head throbbed as he dug through his wardrobe and found another clean tunic that might fit Henry. A dog barked in the distance outside the window and Hans knew any moment someone would come looking for him. It wouldn’t be good for anyone to find Henry asleep on the floor in his room like a big mangy mutt.
“Wake up.” Hans nudged the sleeping man with his boot, and again when he got no response. His foot shoving hard enough the second time to roll Henry onto his back.
Henry groaned and tried to cover his face from the sunlight coming in through the window. He was still mostly clothed but his braies were unlaced and there was still cum caught in the trail of hair below his stomach. Hans was re-visited by the memory of the thickness of that cock in his mouth last night. He swallowed.
“Fuck—my head.” Henry whined, scrubbing his eyes, trying to sit up but leaning heavily on one elbow as he did so.
Hans dropped the clean tunic unceremoniously on Henry’s head and turned to leave. Hans buried the pain from his hangover, not letting it show in his voice.
“Get back to your room and get decent before you show up for our morning debriefing with Uncle Hanush and Sir Radzig.”
Hans heard Henry’s faint 'Yes Sir' behind him as he left.
To Be Continued.