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Brother Nicodemus told Henry off.
It was a silly mistake on Henry's part. The sun was radiating at the highest point in the clear sky; even in his light armour, Henry was still feeling stuffy. His head must’ve fried in his kettle hat, because in his parched state, he dumbly decided that noon would be the best time to help Brother Nicodemus clear out the weeds in his herb garden.
Stooping over the flower bed with a soaked back, his hands were gripping for anything green, pulling them out before even identifying the herbs.
He only wanted to help, seeing how the busy man always had to prepare remedies for his sick patients, but his good intentions ended up giving him more trouble instead. It must’ve been two, five…or maybe twenty pieces of mint that were accidentally pulled out of that garden.
Brother Nicodemus had simply told Henry to keep the herbs afterwards, too tired to be disputing over a few leaves. Henry winced at the memory.
And with the herbs shuffling in his overflowing pockets, he mounted Pebbles and carried his sorry self and began heading back to Rattay.
It would be another week before Henry would eventually have to return to Sasau again. With the free time, Henry supposed he could prepare a few useful concoctions with the herbs he had gathered.
The next morning, just peeking out of the hazy horizon was Rattay. By the time Henry reached the lower gates of the castle, one of the guards at the gate tilted his polearm at the sight of Henry, blocking the gate and stopping him in his tracks.
Confused, Henry dismounted Pebbles.
The guards were whispering about something with each other, and when he was about to confront them, the one on the left motioned him over.
“Sir Hanush wishes to see you at his Chambers immediately.”
“Did something happen?”
“He didn't say anything, but he seemed cross about something. Better hurry than to let him wait.” The guard scratched the back of his head.
“Thanks, I'll head there straight away.”
Mounted onto Pebbles again, the guards held their polearms straight to let him through.
He wondered if he had done something wrong prior to leaving Rattay for Sir Hanush to summon him alone. If he did, he doesn’t recall.
But then again, it could just be that Sir Hanush has more work for him. Sir Radzig and Sir Hanush hadn't really given him much of a break since he woke up at the mill weeks ago.
If anything, Henry was glad that there were things to keep his hands busy so he could spend less time dwelling on his thoughts— it builds a steady rhythm for his broken life. The more he gets to make himself useful, the closer he is to retrieving his father’s sword.
Henry shook his thoughts off and eventually arrived at Upper Rattay. A stable boy tended to Pebbles as he hurried up the stairs of the castle.
The hinges of the chamber door creaked, and sitting at the end of the ridiculously stretched-out table was Sir Hanush, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“Henry.”
“My Lord.” Henry bowed slightly in decorum. “You asked for me?”
“Why yes, indeed. It’s about that Capon.” The seat under Sir Hanush groaned as he leaned forward. “That boy got up and left for some hunting trip for nearly a week now, when he should have been tending to his duties.”
Very typical of him, Henry thought as he rolled his eyes internally.
“Normally, I would’ve sent my men after his dilly-dallying ass, but with what happened at Pribyslavitz recently, I don’t want to mobilise more of my men to search for my ward. We’ve already got enough on our plates as is!”
“Aye…” Henry replied as he balanced on his right leg with his hands behind his back.
There was a vague memory of the stable boy preparing Hans’ horse the morning he took off to Sasau, but that stallion of his was nowhere to be seen when he returned to Rattay earlier.
“Whatever piss he's trying to take out of me, I will hear of it when he comes back. I suppose you remember the location of his camp?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I want you to fetch Hans for me and return in a day’s time. I’ll have the neck of that drunken layabout wrung by the time he returns. Do I make myself clear?” Sir Hanush slammed his right hand on the table, and his voice reverberated in the room. "For all I care, he could be dead right now.”
“...Yes, sir. Then I shall head out immediately."
Henry worried that he might suffocate in the Lord’s chamber and welcomed the fresh air as he stepped outside.
Although Henry knew that it was mostly empty threats, Hans would definitely be getting another earful by the time Henry brought him back.
“Hyah!”
Still early in the morning, the sky was aggressively blue. Henry was already on the road again towards Ledetchko's direction. He tried spurring Pebbles a little faster, but that idea almost got him thrown off of her.
It wouldn’t come as a surprise if by the time he finds his lord, he’d be sleeping lazily in his own mess, probably drunk out of his mind while dreaming about wenches.
But as petulant as his lord is, he supposed that it's about time he should start worrying about Hans's well-being.
Deep down, he wouldn’t want anything to happen to his lord. With the rising threats across Bohemia, having a nobleman disappear in the woods for a week would almost certainly mean death if he were to be ambushed by bandits. Then, it'd be another man to grieve for.
Shaking his head, Henry tried to think of nicer things.
He recalled the times he spent with Hans. Even though it had only been a few weeks since his arrival at Rattay, he realized that it was surprisingly easy to talk to Hans, even though he probably would talk his ears off if given the chance.
Henry didn’t hate his Lord, per se. No. Despite their bickering at times, there’s no actual bad blood between them. Would Henry refer to him as a friend? Maybe. Hans was a good company to have after all that had happened over the last few weeks. He was an arrogant man, sure, but he wasn’t malicious at heart.
Some nights at the tavern, Hans would be spotted at one of the tables, beckoning Henry over whenever he passed by. Henry would pretend to be responsible, telling his lord that he would not indulge in his drinking habits, that the tavern would be closing, while his body already gravitated towards the seat in front of Hans and taking a swig of the ale passed to him.
Being all carefree and relaxed with Hans made him feel like he was back home again. The nightmares of what happened at Skallitz would be far away and distant, and for a brief moment, he could be himself again. It was a bittersweet feeling, but the normalcy of it made him want to treasure it a little longer.
Henry continued forward. The prairies ahead grew seemingly vaster.
It was about midday by the time Henry reached the streams just down the camp. He would’ve continued up the path if it weren’t for the fact that a horse draped in an iconic yellow caparison was spotted next to the stream. Just what was Capon’s horse doing here?
He hopped off of Pebbles and inspected the weary horse. The poor thing was hungry, but otherwise showed no signs of injury.
It was strange. Henry recalled that on the left side of the camp was an open stable where the horses reside. Why would Hans leave his stallion down the path? Or had it wandered off on its own? Or had it been someone else that led it midway down the path?
If the latter were true, it meant that there was a possibility the perpetrators were still around.
Now alert, Henry swept the surrounding area for anything suspicious. The bushes, the trees, until a brown lump that was tucked on the side of the road—a mysterious phial. It was empty, and the insides also smelled funky.
It could’ve been Capon’s doing, but this felt out of character even for his fashion.
Henry was starting to feel uneasy at the sight. Knowing it’d be wise for him to continue alone as it was less conspicuous, he decided to find a more secluded area next to the main path to tie Pebbles to a tree, hiding the gentle mare in a few bushes.
He repeated the same action with Capon’s horse. The stallion gave him no trouble either, as the horse was easily persuaded by a few pieces of fruit that he intended to have for lunch.
Petting Pebble’s neck, he parted alone.
As the wind began to blow, Henry skulked through the bushes uphill like a bandit preparing an ambush. He circled the area of the camp, inspecting it from afar and soon concluding that the open stable was empty. As for one of the tents, however, Henry was sure he found the perpetrator.
A hooded figure was dressed in a dark tunic; his back was turned away as he poked around in the camp–no doubt a thief rummaging through his Lord’s possessions, but Henry was too far away to see the person’s face.
Even so, Hans was nowhere to be seen, again. Henry could feel his chest tighten.
It was odd to think that just a few weeks ago, he would’ve punched a hole in Hans’s face if he had been given the chance to. But now, being reminded of the last time Hans was captured by Cumans, his fears began to seep into his head once more.
What if Hans was taken captive somewhere in the woods again? What if this time, Hans would share the same fate as his parents? Right in front of him when he could’ve been there to protect him.
Hans…he needs to find Hans as soon as possible.
A plan quickly formed in Henry’s mind as it began to clear; he would hunt the hooded man down quickly and easily with a bow and arrow, just like the way Hans had taught him to hunt game. It would be a simple body shot, hopefully momentarily incapacitating him. He would then tie the man up and interrogate him to find out where his Lord-
Snap!
A twig had snapped under Henry’s foot, and the figure in the tent flinched at the sound.
Sakra! He cursed himself for being careless.
Any moment now, and Henry would be spotted, cornered, and gutted. More enemies would come to their location, and both he and Hans would be dead for sure.
He needed to kill this bandit before he had the chance to call for help.
Scrambling, Henry ducked his body lower into the bush in an attempt to conceal himself. Without looking away from the figure through the leaves, his hands pawed the side of his waist, feeling the arrows in his quiver a few times before carefully taking one of them out.
The figure skittishly looked around from his bedroll, but did not spot Henry. Good.
The shadows skipped as light passed through the shuffling leaves. Settling the arrow to his ash bow, he waited for the man to stay still.
It didn’t take long, as the man stood out of the camp and stretched, posture oddly relaxed. His obliviousness was almost laughable.
Sensing his opportunity, Henry shot up from the undergrowth. He quickly aligned the arrow at the head of that hooded man.
Drawn, the moment the bowstring was released, the figure’s head snapped towards him.
“Henry?!”
Henry faltered.
“Hans?!”
Heney’s reaction time wasn’t fast enough to retract his bow, but the arrow had curved into the woods.
His legs could give out at that moment.
“You—Were you trying to assassinate me?!” Hans yelled, and a few birds scattered in the distance.
“I thought you were a bandit!” Henry blurted.
“Says you! Why were you trying to sneak up on me like that?!”
Blood rushed to his head–the pure shame and guilt roiling over him was nauseating. Hans could have him hanged for what he just did, but never mind that; he first needed to make sure that Hans was safe.
“I’m so sorry, Sir Hans.” Henry tried to regain his composure as he stepped out of a scrub. “I swear it was an accident. Sir Hanush had sent me to look for you, and you’re–”
“Wait!” Hans backed away. “S-stay where you are! I’ve…I’ve been cursed! And it could well transfer to you if you come any closer!”
Henry halted on the spot.
Now, slightly more up close, he was finally able to comprehend what Hans was talking about. He wasn’t sure if Hans was pulling some sort of odd prank or if he was performing some sort of ritual, but his eyes weren’t fooling him—horns were poking from the sides of Hans’s head.
“You’re a demon?!”
“What–no! Well, maybe? I’m not sure.”
“How can you not be sure? There are horns poking under your hood! Is this why you’ve been hiding in the woods? Communing with the Devil?”
Hans froze, but then he barked out a laugh that caught Henry off guard.
“Okay, well, that I can explain. But…promise me you won’t freak out, okay?”
“...Okay?”
His Lord’s fingers drifted the hem of the hood, pulling it off in a slow, suspenseful motion.
Henry looked at it once, twice, and blinked.
What he thought were a pair of horns turned out to be…a pair of cat ears?! They were protruding on top of Hans’s head so naturally like they’ve always belonged there to begin with.
Henry would’ve laughed; he would’ve teased Hans for role-playing cats in the woods; he would’ve if it hadn’t dawned on him that those features were moving on their own.
“You’re…” Transfixed, Henry’s words were trapped in his throat.
“Yes, Henry.” Hans crossed his arms. “As you can see…I’ve been cursed. I got turned into some sort of cat hybrid.”
What sort of curse would leave one with feline features? It must be a cruel, sick joke, Henry thought.
If one were to be cursed, they would think that they’d be turned into some form of demonic monster to lurk in the woods forever, banished from towns and cities for centuries to come, not some—fuzzy feline amalgamation!
This is ridiculous. Hans is ridiculous.
“Ok,” Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whatever sort of stuff that you’re doing, you can stop now. I’m not here to indulge in more of your ruse. What do you mean you’re turned into a cat hybrid?”
“I’m telling you the truth, you dolt!” Hans grabbed his tail and pointed at it. There was a tail as well?! “No matter how hard I tried removing them, they are completely attached to my body! It hurts when I pull at them!”
“But sir…” Henry gave Hans a once-over as he walked to his side of the camp. “Sir Hanush wants you back at Rattay by nightfall...how are we meant to do that when you’re…well…”
Hans huffed.
“You can tell my uncle to fuck right off. I’m sure whatever he wants from me right now isn’t important.” Hans spitted. Henry should be paying attention, but his eyes were glued to the tail that was thrashing around. The motion was mesmerising, so animated, and he wanted to feel it. “We’d first have to find a way to get rid of this witch’s curse. There’s no way I could go back like this without getting myself hanged.”
Henry’s attention was immediately drawn back. “Wait, hold on, a witch’s curse? What did you do this time?”
“Oh. Uh. Well…where do I even begin…” Hans’s voice calmed as he began to think.
Henry sighed. “I think you should tell the whole thing from the beginning, sir.”
Hans watched in his makeshift tent as Henry got a small campfire started. It was clear that Hans did actually go on a hunting trip, as there were still a few pieces of Hare carcasses by the campfire. What was also clear was the number of wineskins scattered in the tent, with some visibly empty.
When Henry sat down on one of the logs, Hans began retelling what happened.
The whole deal, Hans said, was to clear his mind of some “Nobles’ stuff” that he and Sir Hanush had argued about. Henry didn’t try to probe any further.
“I remember last night, in my piss-drunk state, I came across a strange woman.”
“A strange woman…” Henry scowled. “Wait, don’t tell me you tried to…”
“You wound me, Hal! Do you really think so lowly of your Lord?” Hans caught on to what Henry was implying and gasped dramatically.
“Wouldn’t ever dream of it, your lordship,” Henry replied with equal amounts of exaggeration.
“But seriously, it’s not what you think. It was just some old lady I ran into in the woods. I may spend my time chasing wenches in Bohemia, but even I have the conscience to know not to put my hands on an old lady.”
“I don’t doubt it. But is she the witch that cursed you?”
“I think so. She told me she was able to fulfil any of my wishes, so of course, I told her that I wish to become what all women would seek after!”
“Uh huh…”
“For just some groschen, she gave me a potion that would do just that. In her words, it would be very effective. And, well, I think you already know the rest.”
“So, you’re telling me, you drank a random potion that a stranger sold you, and you believe she’s the one at fault here?”
“I will admit, Henry, that this sounded idiotic coming out of my mouth. But the prospect of fulfilling such wishes sounded wonderful when I was drunk! Plus, who else would’ve thought that a potion would grant you cat features? Clearly, she wanted to test her magic on clueless passersby.”
Henry let out a very, very deep sigh. “Of course…”
“Watch your tone, peasant! I could have you at the pillory for disrespecting the Lord.”
“Oh, have mercy, my Lord!” Henry mocked.
”I have to thank Christ that there was a spare hunting outfit in the chest. I wouldn’t want anyone finding the heir to Rattay like this.”
“Then what about your horse? I thought some thief had dragged it away.”
“Let’s just say I’ve…overreacted slightly and my voice scared it off,” Hans spoke, suddenly bashful. “I didn’t want the possibility of anyone seeing me like this while I’m off chasing my horse, so I’ve just been nestled here with a headache since the morning, until your fat arse showed up.”
“What a sequence of events that is.” Henry slumped in his seat.
“Exactly my thought.”
“Maybe your time spent boozing and chasing wenches has finally caught up to you.” Henry snickered. “And the 'witch' was actually an angel in disguise. She’s clearly teaching you an important lesson here.”
“You’re not taking me seriously!” Hans’s ears twisted to the side. “We need to hunt that witch down as soon as possible. How would I be able to go back if I looked like this…forever?!”
“But what do you suppose we should do, sir? There’s no way in hell that we could track down a random old lady you don’t even remember in these parts of the woods.”
“I don’t know!” Hans pulled his hair in frustration. “That’s why I’m still here at the camp. I’m not really offered a lot of options here.”
Henry watched in schadenfreude as Hans dropped to his side on the bedroll. He shouldn’t find Hans’s dire situation funny; he really shouldn’t. But how could he not when Hans wasn’t even able to lie flat on his back, otherwise he’d be squashing his furry tail. A snort came out of Henry before he could even help himself.
Hans angrily turned to the other side away from Henry as if he had just read all of his thoughts.
“Well–I’m sorry!”
“You don’t believe me.”
“No, I do!” Henry said as he unsuccessfully stifled a small laugh. "I really do! I'm sorry, my Lord.”
“You’re literally laughing, you prick!” Hans glared at Henry over his shoulder.
Henry’s eyes, however, followed the animated tail that was thumping on the ground, and how Hans’s tunic covering his bottoms were slightly peeled up with every movement of the tail.
Now he really wants to feel it.
“Since you’re the only one who had the potion, then it shouldn’t matter if I came in contact with you or not, no? It’s not a disease…it shouldn’t spread.”
“I don’t know…” Hans’s voice drifted.
“Then…can I touch your tail?”
The tail stopped thumping before it began swaying curiously, almost as if it were transcribing Hans’s emotions.
“...Okay, just don’t tug at it. I’ll kick you if you do.”
The leaves crunched under Henry as he welcomed himself into the small tent and sat next to Hans. When he held onto the base of the tail, nothing had happened to him, proving his theory correct.
It amazed him how the furs on the tail swirled in his palm that was holding it snug. It was warm, tangible, physical. He let go and held his hand out straight and flat. He tried bending the tail downwards from the base, only for it to spring back up straight. Henry snorted at how ridiculous it was.
“You can let go now, Henry. I think you've had enough.” Hans said, waving Henry off.
“Sorry, sir.”
He gave the tail a stroke before letting it free again. The tail retracted into a curve as Hans continued to lie on the bedroll. Being able to feel his tail did satisfy some of Henry’s curiosity, but his mind was already locked onto the next target.
“...Can I also touch your ears?”
“You’re a nosy guy. Has anyone told you that before?”
“Well, when was the last time you’ve come across a cat-man? I think it’s reasonable to be somewhat intrigued…sir.”
Hans gave Henry a not-so-convincing glare before turning away. “Do as you please.”
“Alright. Can you also sit up?”
“Commanding the Lord now, too. What am I going to do with you?”
Despite his words, Hans complied and scooted over, yet Henry still shuffled closer to Hans until they were sharing the same breath.
Now, face to face, Hans sat still in front of Henry like a boulder with his eyes closed. Instead of immediately reaching for the feline ears, however, Henry decided first to inspect them in better detail. With the fur and shape and all, they really did resemble those of a real cat. They even react and twist at the slightest sounds.
“What’s the hold up? Afraid I’m going to bite you?” Hans peeped with one eye open.
“No sir.” Henry smiled.
Taking off his gloves and putting them aside, he gingerly reached for the fluffy ears and started by placing his thumb on the insides of the shell, rubbing it in circles. Hans initially jolted at the touch but continued to stay still otherwise.
The sensation amazed Henry—it was so soft. His fingers eventually drifted and scratched the sides of his ears, the motion familiar like how he would to Mutt, albeit a little gentler. If it weren’t for the predicament they were in right now, he would’ve found this extremely endearing.
“...How does it feel, sir?” Henry couldn’t help but ask.
“I won’t lie…it’s good. It feels really good.” Hans settled contentedly and drooped his head a little lower, behaving almost like a big mammal. “The best way to describe it would be like…well, it’s like that satisfaction you'd feel when you finally scratch the itch that keeps moving on your skin.”
“Aye.” Henry chuckled.
Henry’s fingers parted a little wider and started scratching the whole area surrounding his cat ears instead, almost petting him. He couldn’t resist tousling him a little more aggressively, messing his slick back hair in the process. It wasn’t like petting Mutt, but it wasn’t too far off either.
When Henry pulled his hands off, a steady buzzing sound lingered in the air. He thought it must have been some sort of insect, but he soon realized it came directly in front of him.
“A-are you purring, sir?!”
“What?” Hans snapped out of his trance.
“You’re purring like a real cat!”
“What the fuck? No I’m not!”
“Yes, you are! Christ, you weren’t lying about being turned into a cat.”
“Did you think I was lying this whole time?!”
“No! I just didn’t think that you’d do that.” It’s actually kind of cute, Henry thought.
“Sod off.” Hans scoffed.
He couldn’t help himself, and his hands reached for Hans's head again. Despite his scowl, Hans didn't seem opposed to the idea either, tilting his head forward and allowing Henry to continue his ministrations.
They had once again settled in an oddly companionable silence, and if it weren't for the purring that was still radiating from Hans, Henry would've thought he had fallen asleep.
As he continued, he could hear Hans trying to sniff the air, then again, then inhaling deeply.
“You smell really funny today. Did you go to a bathhouse before coming here?” From the corner of Henry’s eyes, he could see his tail sweeping left and right.
“What? No I didn’t.” Henry paused. “Do I stink or something?”
“No, no– it’s just…” Hans’s voice drifted off. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Henry–can you, um, continue with what you were doing?” He insists.
Henry could sense that Hans was hiding something from him, but he supposed that he would find a way to pry it out of him later. Right now, he has an important duty—to satisfy his lord by showering him with more pets.
Though while Henry continued, his mind started to drift to who that “witch” could be. Undoubtedly, there were many dangers in these parts of the woods, but he hadn’t come across any magic users. From his memory, there was only one person who would’ve fitted the description.
“Actually, if we head north, there’s a herb woman named Gertrude. She was once accused of witchcraft, but she’s not actually a witch. If we tell her about your situation, we might be able to find an antidote, or at least some clues about who you came across.”
“Hmm?” Hans drawled out.
Something was off. “Were you listening to what I was saying at all?”
“...No, was it something important?”
Henry stopped. He held Hans’ face in his hands until they were on the same eye level.
Inspecting Hans’ face, Henry could see that his pupils had completely swallowed up the blues of his eyes, cheeks now tinted in a less-than-healthy shade of red. What was even more worrisome was that his breathing was laborious as if he had just finished sword fighting.
Without hesitation, Henry pressed the back of his right hand to Hans’s forehead.
“Christ, you’re burning up!”
“I’m fine, Henry.” Hans swatted his hand away.
“Sakra! You should’ve said something!”
Now Henry felt guilty for toying with Hans; he should’ve taken the initial hint when he realized Hans was acting strangely. If anything, the odd magic could be giving Hans a lethal side effect right now.
He needed to get this taken care of before it escalated.
“Alright, sit tight, and I’ll go and fetch you some water-”
“No, stay.”
As Henry was about to get up, Hans gripped him by his bicep and yanked him back down to the bedroll, hard. An unrecognizable sound was forced out of him as their bodies crushed together.
Before Henry even had time to process anything, Hans began rubbing his head against the crook of Henry’s neck and tried sniffing again, “Did you have mint on you?”
Oh, the herbs! It all clicked for Henry when he realised it was the herbs that Hans was trying to inhale out of him. He must’ve forgotten to put them away when he left for the Talmberg woods. With the journey and the amount he had on him, they must’ve rubbed their aromas onto his clothing.
But it was not unusual for him to carry herbs around with him at all times. Had Hans’s senses gotten stronger with the curse?
“Are the herbs making you ill, sir?”
“I don’t know…I think it’s messing with my body.” Hans inched closer, panting wetly into Henry’s neck. All of the nerves in that area were lit, sensitively aware of the slightest grazes. Oh, how intimately familiar it felt.
Henry pursed his lips tightly. The moment became a battle of endurance. He feared that something embarrassing might just come out of his stupid mouth if he let them open, so he kept them shut.
Then, Hans began rolling his hip, and Henry could feel it–there was something warm poking his thigh, unmistakably Hans’ hardening cock.
“Fuck–”
Henry forgot how to breathe.
Almost as if Hans had just realized what he was doing, the pressure on top of Henry was gone in an instant. Only then was he aware that he was pinned down the whole time.
Hans stumbled backwards onto the floor. He looked so undone, but the terror in his eyes was evident.
“Christ, Henry. I’m–I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
Henry lifted himself up by his forearms, heart still jumping in quick spurts.
“Wait, sir–”
“Henry, don't! It’s the curse!” Hans cut him off. “I should've stopped when I knew something was wrong.”
“I’ll help you get the curse out of your system.” Henry blurted before he even registered what he was saying.
Hans froze on the spot.
Panicking, Henry's eyes darted, unfortunately landing on the tent that was very visible between Hans’ legs. Hans must’ve noticed it too, as he clasped his legs shut immediately.
Henry cursed himself.
“Y-You're absurd!” Hans’ lips quivered into an almost sneer, the scowl still permanent. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
Henry’s face immediately coloured, shame forcing his eyes downward.
Did he understand? He didn’t know. He blamed himself for acting on impulse again, but he barely had a brain left to restrain him to begin with. His head was still swimming, his blood gathering at his half-hard dick. It’d be impossible to retract his words now.
"We'll get it over with quickly, and we’ll keep it to ourselves,” Henry managed. “There’s no way I’m leaving you in these parts of the woods alone when you're in this condition.”
“Henry, please don't feel obliged to do this just because I'm your Lord,” Hans uttered drearily.
“I’m not doing this because you’re my Lord, I just…”
Henry scrambled for an excuse, but his mind once again drew blank. What excuse could there be? That he simply wanted to “help” a friend in need? That he fancied doing this with his Lord? None would paint him in a good light, and Henry knew he’d be trashed as a sodemite for even speaking up.
The longer Hans continued to bore a hole into Henry with his stare, the more Henry was willing to believe that his Lord had the power to read his mind. He searched for the slightest changes on his face, hoping to find reassurance, but the expression was incomprehensible. His stomach was ready to cramp.
He mentally cursed his fat mouth again.
“Henry.” Hans breathed out. ”I shall ask again. Do you…actually want to help me?”
Even if it were in the name of helping a friend, even if it would just be a one time thing, would it be so bad to admit that Henry was actually eager to see how this would go?
He was nervous, but after giving himself one more pause, he had decided.
“Yes.” Henry swallowed.
“And not as a servant to a Lord…understand?”
Like a dog heeding a command, he looked up once more. “Yes, Hans.”
“Good.” For the first time today, Hans’ scowl loosened to something of relief. “Then, be quick. I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”
“Aye.”
There was no turning back now.
After being given the go-ahead, Hans pounced on top of Henry again, nuzzling against Henry’s chest like he was ready to squeeze all of the air out of his lungs. It really was like having a big cat.
“God, this mint–I think it’s reacting like an aphrodisiac for me.” Hans wiped his drool with the ends of his sleeve.
“Should I get rid of them?”
Hans paused. Henry could see that Hans was concentrating hard, probably using the last of his brain power to think on the matter.
Then, Hans’ expression flipped, and he grinned. “Maybe not. Let’s continue.”
“But–” Hans shushed him by placing a finger over his lips.
Then, Hans was rutting against Henry again, but this time directly sliding over Henry's hardness with his own. The shot of pleasure was nothing short of electric, and both of them groaned in satisfaction.
It would be inaccurate to say that such a thing never crossed his mind in his whole peasant life, but the passing thoughts were never thought in such detail, let alone reenacted right in front of him.
Hans crawled forward. Their flushed faces were so close to each other that for a split second, Henry thought their lips were sure to touch.
Something like fear — or was it excitement? — rose in Henry when he wondered why it had felt so…natural. Despite their current circumstance, he felt that he could trust his Lord with what they were doing.
“This is not enough…” To Henry’s dismay, the warmth that was enveloping his upper body disappeared as Hans sat back up. He almost looked intoxicated as he straddled Henry’s thighs, pupils somehow blew even wider, and his tail began to sway in a wavy pattern again.
Hans reached for the hems of his own braies, hastily untying the sides before yanking them down with his hose as much as he could in his kneeling position. The gap was enough to release his fully erect cock, slotting it against Henry’s clothed tent.
“Christ.” Henry gasped, gawking stupidly.
Hans’ tip was already glistening with the beads of his pre-cum, devilishly wet as his fingers smeared it over the base. It was as if sin itself had braced on top of Henry, fueling the insatiable desire. He could feel himself growing harder just by looking.
“Stop staring and take yours off too, you blockhead.” Hans panted.
“Right.”
Henry fumbled with his hose. When his cock sat firmly against his belly, Hans took a second to goggle at the sight. Henry could feel more and more of his blood surging downwards, and having all of Hans’ attention focused on his half-hardness was not helping his case whatsoever.
Hans shifted closer, and when their cocks aligned next to each other, he spat into his palm and wrapped it around them. His grip was barely able to accommodate both of their girths.
Then, Hans began pumping, and Henry threw his head back in bliss. Selfishly, he ground his hips against Hans’ to feel more of it, the sensation novel and sensual. It felt nothing like he would with himself.
This continued for a while, the pace steady as Henry held onto Hans’ hips to steady him. When Hans’ movements began to falter, he held onto Henry’s shoulder with his free hand and pressed his head against Henry’s chest.
Pleasure was quickly building up inside of Henry, and he was sure that he would burst on the spot if Hans hadn’t stopped abruptly.
“Henry…” Hans groaned, arching on top of him. ”I can’t…I can’t finish.”
Hans had released both of them from his trembling hand, his expression borderline in pain as his ears twitched back. It was obvious to see why when Hans’ cock was coloured a deep red. Henry was sure he would’ve poked fun at him if the sight above him weren’t so carnal, spurring him on.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s like…I keep getting harder, but I just can’t,” Hans gasped. “…Please, Henry…I need…”
“It’s alright. I’m here. Let me help you.”
Henry pushed himself up from the floor and lowered Hans onto the bedroll. He was straddling one of Hans’ thighs while the other slung around his hips.
In this position, he had a little more leverage as his body encased Hans’. But Hans didn’t seem to care; he practically melted into him.
Somewhere distant in his mind, he was reminded of Bianca, having her under him for the first time and fumbling through the whole process. He tried not to think too hard about it.
Henry spat more saliva onto his palm and continued where Hans left off. Hans tried arching his hips again, but with the way Henry was straddling him, he could only squirm on the spot. “Oh God–”
Being fed by the view under him, his arousal was nigh impossible to ignore by now, so Henry sped up the pace.
“Hah. Yes.” Hans pulled Henry down and purred into his ear. “Henry, keep going…”
Hans’ palms splayed on Henry’s thighs, kneading them like fine dough. With a twist of his fingers, Hans’ yelp upped a pitch.
Henry was sweating now. He gave an experimental thrust, then again, then a little harder; unsurprisingly, Hans met his hard thrusts with his own hips.
“H-Henry!” Hans hid his face in Henry’s shoulder as he continued, with each glide wetter than the last.
“It’s okay, Hans.” He soothes. “Let go for me.”
Hans whimpered, holding Henry tightly in his embrace. Then, finally, he came hard, tail twitching as he went. Henry’s hand was still keeping up the pace, squeezing everything there was out of Hans as his legs clamped down hard onto Henry’s middle.
A primal urge shot through him as he chased his own release, still holding both of them tightly in his hand. Using Hans’ spent as extra lubricant – the warmth and the slick sensation was obscene – it didn’t take long for Henry to feel the telltale sign of his climax.
Hans was still twitching in Henry’s palms as he slowly came down from his high, but otherwise content and satisfied.
When he glanced at Hans’ face, he realized he was watching him with his undivided attention as Henry continued with his ministrations.
Hans gave him a goofy little smile.
The sight was too much for Henry.
He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned when the tight coil in his stomach finally snapped. The eruption was immediate and intense. Henry could feel his blood rushing to his head so fast that he dropped his head onto Hans’ shoulder. The release felt so good.
They stayed like this for a while as they both recovered from their exertion. Henry could still see stars behind his eyes as he breathed into Hans. He released both of them after a bit when his hand started to feel sticky.
Looking upside down and seeing how their mixed mess had splattered across Hans’ dark tunic was enough to make Henry come again. It was practically ruined with how stained it was.
It was only when he sat back up on his heels that he realized there was no trace of the curse anymore. The ears and tail that were attached to Hans practically disappeared like a hallucination.
“Wait, Hans, your–the curse, it’s gone…!”
Breathing softly, Hans felt the top of his head. “...I suppose so.”
Later, when they went to retrieve their horses, they passed by the streams to thoroughly wash away the evidence. The whole time they kept their conversations to a few words, the air awkward.
Hans had changed to his usual golden pourpoint, the dark tunic long ditched somewhere in the woods. He was transformed back to the proper image of a Lord.
It looked ridiculous as he basically glowed under the afternoon sun, showing no trace of what they had done in the woods. Henry, on the other hand, had redressed in his clean but very much sopping braies from a wash in the stream. He wasn’t offered the luxury of a spare outfit.
On their way back to Rattay, their horses kept their distance. Henry was behind Hans, just close enough to hear whatever Hans would have to say, even if he had his back to him the whole time.
Reflecting, Henry wondered if he had crossed the line when he initiated the idea. The thought hit him like a cold bucket of water. It would be awful to think that they would have to be in the same stalemate for the rest of his time in Rattay.
Once again, Hans read his mind and shot him a glance – his body language obviously signalling Henry that he had something to say – before focusing forward again.
“About what happened in the woods…” Hans spoke into the open air. “I will admit, it was being reckless. And…well, I apologize, Henry. For dragging you into whatever shit I was in again.”
“Aye, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad it was resolved.” Henry hid his relief. “And I won’t tell a soul that I saw my Lord turn into a great feline.”
“Bugger off!” Hans tittered. “But I’ll have you know that I’m not some randy teenager. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Hesitation lingered in his voice, but Hans didn’t seem repulsed by Henry, or at least what had happened between them.
For just that moment, Henry was glad that they could talk normally again and pretend that nothing had happened. But deep down, he very much wanted it to happen again.
It was a sinful, selfish idea, but nothing was stopping the image of Hans breathing out Henry’s name from reeling vividly in his head.
Henry cleared his throat. “Aye…”
He wasn’t aware when Hans had paced his horse, lining up next to his Pebbles. The two horses trotted at the same pace.
“You know what, Henry, let’s not let what happened today spoil the rest of the day. How about we make a trip to the bathhouse before we return?” Hans said like he was talking about the weather.
When Henry turned to look at him, he bore a dumb, lopsided smile. His spirits had seemingly returned, and the simplicity of it made his stomach flutter.
Feeling his face heat up, Henry scoffed and turned away. “You’re still in the mood for that? If Sir Hanush finds out, I think he’ll lock you up in the castle for sure.”
“That can wait. I’m sure we both look terrible right now.” Hans spurred his horse, kicking up some dirt in the process. “Come on!”
Henry sighed and shook his head.
“Aye, if you say so.”