Chapter Text
The lock slid home on their door at the Devil’s Den and Hans was on Henry practically before the man had a chance to turn around. He let out a startled omph as their teeth clicked together from his haste, but quickly wound an arm around Hans’ waist. Henry brought a careworn hand to cradle his jaw, rough callouses rasping against his stubble. A smile curved against Hans’ mouth as he pressed closer, hands fisted in the back of Henry’s tunic.
“Easy there, m'lord– I'm not going anywhere.” Henry chuckled against him.
Hans’ heart panged like a thumb in a bruise. The weight of the last weeks nearly drove the breath from his lungs. Those frantic moments they had shared when he had been terrified of Henry not returning, equal parts searing bliss and divine agony. His heart tripping over itself in his breast at the sight of him in the courtyard, light glinting from his armor like an honest to god Arthurian knight. The dark shadow of Hans’ looming engagement. The joy of their friends, exhausted relief. And under all of that a new and palpable tension thrumming between them.
As if sensing his thoughts, Henry brushed a tender thumb over his bottom lip. “What I mean is, we can take our time now.”
His gaze was so tender it could not be borne. Hans felt like his horse was sitting on his chest. So he started when the hand on his waist slid down and grasped his arse, a spark of mischief appearing in Henry's eye.
“You are a bastard,” Hans said, pointing a finger in accusation.
Henry threw back his head and laughed. “Well, yeah,” he replied, that dumb lopsided grin forming at the corner of his mouth. Before Hans could fully consider his poor choice of words, his page had grabbed him around the middle and pulled them both down onto his bed.
Hans sprawled on top of Henry, enjoying the reverse perspective from their previous entanglement. Strong hands held their hips close as they drew in for a kiss. Hans ran his fingers into Henry's hair, tilting his head back to deepen their kiss. With his other hand he admired the planes of his lover's body. He had filled in rather spectacularly since they had first met, and fire pooled in Hans’ belly when he felt muscles bunch and move beneath his touch.
With surprising deftness, Henry practically flicked open their belts and ran his hand underneath his pourpoint. Fingers dragged up the side of his ribcage and Hans stifled a soft sound against his shoulder. Henry smiled against his throat and pressed their hips together gently. Hans did a worse job stifling the sound he made in response to that.
Henry tisked in his ear. “Now how are we going to get anywhere with you making noise like that?”
“Oh come off it! They're all too sloshed downstairs to notice.” Hans waved a dismissive hand. “Isn't it about time we were allowed to have some fun?”
Henry peered up at him skeptically, but acquiesced. They spent the next minutes clumsily stripping their torsos in between passionate kisses and a fair amount of groping. Hans was practically panting and was definitely struggling to keep his voice down. No matter what he had said, he was not interested in being discovered like this– tangled up with his best friend and rutting against him like a bitch in heat.
Christ, I might have to focus on not ruining the moment right here in my pants if he doesn't stop using his tongue like that! Hans thought deliriously. Henry sniggered against him and heat raced up his cheeks with the realization some of that might have been said aloud. In retaliation, Hans pinned him down and began to show that smartarse what Lord Capon's sharp tongue could do to his chest and throat when their door rattled with a sudden bang.
They both shot upright like hares in a field. Hans’ pulse was thunder in his ears for a different reason altogether. They perched, frozen, hands hovering a few inches away from each other, as if it would make their current position less incriminating if the door opened. Time stretched as their hearts hammered louder than church bells, together in the utter stillness of that room for two long moments.
Then a burst of drunken laughter from the balcony outside.
“S'not your fuckin’ door, you moron!” Someone shouted from below.
A string of curses and muttered implications about the shouter's mother came from the other side of the door and as someone (the Devil maybe?) shuffled away.
They let out a collective breath and sagged against each other. It took nearly a full minute for Hans’ heart to slow down from full tilt.
“Maybe we should give more consideration to someone more… private. For a while,” he suggested, resting his forehead on Henry's shoulder.
For a long moment the other man sat in thoughtful silence, gently stroking a line up and down Han's back with his middle two fingers. Then he hummed and said, “Well, we could always go to my home in Kuttenberg.”
A long pause.
“Your what?”