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Summary
«My dear Henry,» he declared grandly, running his free hand through his damp hair and pushing it back from his face, «you are exceedingly fortunate. You have the honour of learning from the finest lover in the entire region—!» He lifted his chin, preened shamelessly, like a peacock. «—the very reincarnation of Dionysus himself!»
Henry couldn’t help it. A small, helpless laugh escaped him.
«I’ve no idea who that is,» Henry said at least, shaking his head, half laughing despite himself. “But I’m fairly sure I’ll start calling you Sir Hans Modesty Capon!»
«Careful, Henry! Continuing calling me a liar like that…» Hans warned lightly. If it had been anyone else, he would have sent them to the stocks for half as much. But it was Henry. That damned blacksmith’s boy who refused to remember his place. «…you do have witnesses here, after all.»or: What if "Next to Godliness" quoest had actually been a real smut scene. Completely self-indulgent, because I wanted to write a bit of these idiots-in-love bisexual icons.
Archie? Who’s Archie? There is no Arse-n-balls here (maybe)