Chapter Text
“Anytime?”
Hans nodded, his chin on Henry's chest as he was looking at him. “Yes. Just take me without asking.”
“Just… just take you?” Henry asked. He knew he sounded stupid just repeating what Hans had just said to him.
“Yes. Well, alright, not any time. You should stay reasonable. Don't try to fuck me when I'm, you know, talking to my uncle. That would be hard to explain.”
Henry swallowed. “So only when we're alone then?”
“Yes,” Hans nodded. “Well… I mean, it depends on what exactly you will be doing…”
“But what if we're alone and you're not in the mood? I wouldn't want to annoy you.”
Hans clicked his tongue, but then immediately winced, chastising himself. “Sorry. You… you are right.” He looked around the room, trying to find an answer to Henry's question, and then his eyes lit up as he stood up from bed.
Henry followed him with his eyes, watching Capon grab something from a little wooden box on top of the cabinet.
“If I'm wearing this ring,” he put on a golden ring with a green stone - emerald? Henry wasn't entirely sure - and stretched his hand to Henry for the latter to see it clearly, “Then it means I'm yours to take however you please.”
Henry nodded, staring at the ring on Hans’s right middle finger. He knew Hans didn't have that many rings for him to be able to confuse this one with some other, but he still wanted to be sure he'd always recognise it. The idea seemed perfect - Henry wouldn't need to worry about coming onto his lover at the wrong moment, but also wouldn't have to spoil the fun by announcing it every time.
“How lucky I am to have such a clever lord,” Henry muttered, letting go of Hans’s hand as the latter took off the ring with a smug smile.
“That you are,” Hans murmured back, lying back down to Henry's side.
Henry wasn't sure how he would react the first time he'd see Hans wearing that ring. He thought that maybe he'd get flustered, maybe he wouldn't find it in himself to use Hans as if the lord’s word meant nothing to him, maybe it would take him several times of tentative touches to fully take advantage of this arrangement.
In reality, his eyes darted to Hans’s hand every time he saw him, his stomach tightening in anticipation of even a chance of the noble offering himself to Henry like this. The anticipation turned fruitless for now, but did not weaken in the slightest, Henry's excitement only growing, waiting for the moment Hans would deem fitting. When it happened, Henry did a double, triple, quadruple take at the ring before grabbing the delicate, gentle hand that wore it. When he bent Hans over the table, the noble's hand fell on the wooden surface over his head, the green stone on it catching the light of the fireplace.
It was mesmerising. It was the only thing Henry could keep his eyes on.
***
Henry's pride was still sore after losing a sparring match to some soldier in such a stupid way when he walked into Hans’s room. He wanted to talk over some details about the hunt they were going on the following morning before heading to a bathhouse and then, probably, to the tavern.
Hans was sitting at his table with a bunch of arrows in front of him and a knife in his hand. Controlling as always, he didn't trust the Rattay armourers and preferred to notch the arrows himself.
“Is it for tomorrow?”
Hans nodded, not looking at Henry, his full attention occupied by the arrow.
Henry liked watching his lover doing things like this, things he was truly a master at. The way he manipulated an arrow in his hands, so used to holding it, his long fingers wrapping around it–
Henry only now noticed the ring.
Hans should be thankful Henry had the decency to wait until he put the knife away before approaching him in large strides, grabbing his hair, and pressing Hans’s face against his groin.
Hans’s eyelids fluttered with surprise, but how surprised could he really be? Henry bit his lip as he rubbed Hans’s face over his clothed cock, filling with blood in the matter of seconds now that Hans’s opened mouth was over it, the warmth of his breath seeping through the thick fabric.
Henry untied his braies with one hand, the other still holding Hans’s hair. The lord's eyes followed his movements, staring without blinking at the heavy, hard length in front of them. He licked his lips, hungry to put his mouth where it was wanted most. Henry saw Hans put down the arrow he was still holding in his hand and turn towards his lover, and he tugged on his hair sharply, making Hans stop and glance up at him.
“The arrows are not going to notch themselves, love.”
Hans’s cheeks went bright pink as he looked at Henry's cock, then at the table, then at Henry's face, then at the table again. He picked the arrow and the knife back up, the heated exhales from his open mouth ghosting over his lover's erection.
His mouth opened even wider when Henry pushed his thumb between his back teeth and slid inside Hans’s mouth in one motion.
He saw Hans’s hands falter, a quiet moan vibrating around his cock, saw how Hans's hips shifted, probably adjusting to the swelling in his own hose.
The lord clearly understood that he was not supposed to move, so he sat still, his chest rising rapidly with shallow breaths. His hair felt like silk between Henry's fingers when he combed through it, setting his hand on the back of Hans’s head. He didn't put any pressure on it; on the contrary, Hans was the one who leant into it, his eyes falling close, his tongue making small, tentative movements to stimulate the underside of Henry’s cock lying on it.
Nothing was happening with the arrow, though, so Henry tugged on the golden hair again. A shaking hand brought the knife to the blunt tip of the arrow, rested the blade in the middle of it, and pressed, wiggling a bit to create a dent. Hans put the arrow aside, picking up the next one, and Henry pulled out a bit before driving his cock deeper into Capon’s mouth, starting to thrust leisurely.
He could see that Hans was trying, he really, really was. Trying to keep his eyes on what his hands were doing instead of letting them close in pleasure. Trying to continue with his task instead of letting his hands lower, wanting to give his full attention to sucking Henry off.
Henry didn't want his full attention, though. He wanted Hans like this, just his mouth, hot and open for him, while his mind was on something else. Like Henry was distracting him, but Hans couldn't say no, couldn't decide that it wasn't the right moment, that he wanted to finish some other task first. He didn't need his mouth to notch arrows, so it was all fair.
Hans was still using his tongue, running it against Henry's thrusts, swirling it around the head if he had time. He was fucking good with that, his pretty lips stretched. He was deep now, and he knew Hans could take it, loved taking it exactly like this, rougher than usual, making spit run down his chin. Not too deep, not to make Hans choke on it, as he hated it, but close enough to make the noble think that that was what Henry was going to do.
Henry stopped mid-thrust, looking at Hans expectantly, and Hans jolted, eyes darting to his hands to keep working, a moan escaping his throat when Henry rocked his hips again.
It was making Henry shiver - the knowledge that Hans enjoyed it as much, if not more, than he did. Sure, the idea was for him to not exactly care about Hans’s own pleasure in these moments, but he could not ignore the desire sparking in his lover's eyes every time Henry fucked his mouth or pushed him on the bed.
He could pretend to not care, though, so when he noticed that the arrow stilled in Hans’s hand yet again, he slowed down, picking up speed only after another notch was done. Henry took a random arrow from the heap on the table, making a show of slowly examining the notch, knowing Hans would be staring at him.
“You don't think you can do a poor job just because of me, do you?” Henry asked, forcing his voice to sound detached, as if having Hans panting around his cock was not undoing him completely. The lord's eyebrows drew together as his eyes darted to the arrows he'd just set aside, worried, because he clearly had not been paying full attention to his task, probably counting on throwing those arrows away as soon as they were done. “You'd better hope they fly as good as mine tomorrow.”
The concern in Hans’s eyes disappeared as soon as Henry petted his hair again. God, he was so lost in it. In Henry's demanding hands, his demanding thrusts, his demanding voice, taking the pleasure from Hans’s body so selfishly.
Henry felt drunk, the thought of Hans letting him do it to himself as intoxicating as the warm mess of his mouth, draining Henry of all remnants of resolve he had left. Henry could tell that Hans was trying to stifle quiet moans bubbling in his throat in an attempt to keep up the act of not enjoying every second of it.
They both weren't very good at pretending.
Henry's hand slid from the back of Hans’s head to cup his cheek, the other hand gripping the top of the chair when he came hard, swearing, spilling in Hans’s mouth, his knees almost buckling from the wave of drowning pleasure and from the way Hans was looking at him, his pretty eyes watering, his lips trembling.
Henry pulled out, holding his cock for Hans to lick his spend off of it, and the eagerness with which the lord did it almost made Henry hard again. He tied his braies back, his heart beating out of his chest.
Play along. That's what he wants from you. You can be gentle with him any other time, but right now, he wants something else.
Henry picked up one arrow, looking at its tip, then flicking it in his fingers to check the other end, humming.
“Don't touch them until tomorrow morning,” Henry said, running his fingers through the feathers of the fletching. “We'll see how good a job you did. And if it turns out you slacked off, then I'm afraid you'll be left without your reward.”
Hans swallowed, looking at the arrows, trying to evaluate how fucked he was.
***
Henry could see and hear Hans exhale in relief when his arrow hit the hare. Capon took out another arrow and aimed at a thin tree, hitting it right in the middle.
When Henry was untying Hans’s hose later, he was still wondering whether or not to tell the lord that he had switched the arrows with his own.