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Hans was bored. The evening was young and yet he was ready to retire back to the castle. The ale was passable, he’d just won at farkle and his friends were small talking and jesting like they usually did. And yet, Hans found himself bored out of his mind, weariness weighting his body down and souring his mood.
He was bitter and hurting from the constant fights with his uncle over his inheritance. It was always the same argument back and forth, and it felt like any faux pas from Hans was an excuse for Hanush to postpone the transfer of title and responsibilities to him. He wasn’t a young adult no more, not as hot-headed either if he said so himself, and yet Hanush wouldn’t budge from his decision.
He’d proven himself time and time again, showing off his strategist mind during times of duress and his kind side with his subjects. No longer did he use them as he saw fit and discarded them just as fast, he’d learnt to take the time to get to know their names, their stories. He didn’t take for granted his privileges and status. He saw for himself the aftermath of war for those who lost everything with his numerous travels to Kuttenburg and Prague. Lodgings were built and jobs were created for the refugees in Rattay, allowing them a chance at a new life.
“Sir, are you listening?” He was pulled from his brooding by Konrad, and he realised all three of the other occupants of the table were staring at him.
“Yes… No, I wasn’t. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Will you be participating in tomorrow’s archery contest?” Nicholas asked with a small smile.
“And eliminate your chance to win? No, but I’ll be watching from the front row.” The others protested lightheartedly.
but knew he was right. He was the best marksman among them, had proved it many times over the years.
“Have you heard about Lady Stephanie of Talmberg’s kidnapping? They say a blood red drak plucked her right from the sky and flew off with her.”
“What, a drak? Those don’t exist.”
“Sure they do, just the other day they found some bones.”
“Jesus Christ, could it be Azhdaya?”
“Hard to say, bones pretty much all look the same.”
“Not the bones, you dolt. The drak that captured Lady Stephanie.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. When I walk in the middle of a forest at night, I feel eyes on me. Jezinka exists, I’m telling you.”
Hans frowned. It was the first time he was hearing of a living dragon, let alone one that captured people. He leaned towards the two men who were talking at the other table. “You, peasant. Where did you hear such rumour?”
“Um, from my cousin who heard it from her husband’s brother in Sasau who heard it from a friend when visiting him in Kuttenberg.”
He ignored all of that information. “Where was the dragon sighted?”
“People in Trosky claim they saw it fly over the castle towards the North.”
“And this friend who first heard it, what’s his name?”
“I can’t recall, sir, but he works at the Hole in the Wall tavern. What’s got you so interested, anyway?”
“I would reconsider your tone when speaking to a noble, peasant. Still, thank you for the information.”
Bohemia was home to supernatural beings, even the presence of the Church wouldn’t convince its disciples otherwise. Hans had grown up with stories of all sorts of creatures lurking the woods and roads around Rattay, to try and fail to keep him from exploring beyond the city’s limits. Still, stories of rusalki found in rivers and lakes, of the Osenya forcing men to walk until exhaustion or of the Lomie beast living in the forest weren’t novelties to him.
Those creatures were dangerous because they lived by their own rules, and it fell to the humans to understand them. Most didn’t want to, or didn’t have enough time before their demise. Hans had met a fairy as a child and still remembered those times like a fever dream, unsure whether those memories were real or not.
“Isn’t the Trosky castle said to be haunted by demons?” Oats asked suddenly, and Hans’s blood froze in his veins.
“Don’t use that word here,” he gritted out.
“What word, demon?” Oats laughed at the glare that earned him.
“A drak sighted so close to here, I wish I could see it,” Konrad said, in the middle of a game of dice.
“That would be quite the sight,” Tankard agreed.
“What would be quite the sight?” A warm voice perked up from behind Hans. Henry appeared with an easy smile and slid on the bench next to him. With it being so crowded, their thighs pressed together, a long line of warmth against Hans who tried not to react other than take a healthy swig of now lukewarm beer.
“Before you’d lose it forever, along with your life,” Nicholas was saying. Out of the five, he was the most sober one.
“A drak, Hal,” Hans said. “They sighted one.”
Henry’s expression was hard to read in the dim light, but he didn’t seem to believe them. “Sure, I heard it was playing dice with its minion Balachko.” No one laughed, and he groaned. “Those don’t exist. They were tales to scare us as children.”
“Don’t talk about which you know nothing about,” Konrad replied. His parents never adhered to the Christian life and were pagans, Konrad following in their footsteps. He still attended the Church but didn’t believe in it, his prayers dedicated to deities of an older nature.
Henry raised his hand in appeasement. “I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.”
“It’s fine.” Konrad replied mulishly and returned to his dice game. Hans rolled his eyes at his antics, knowing his anger would deflate as quickly as it inflated.
“Someone saw the dragon capturing a woman, Lady Stephanie of Talmberg.”
“How? Was it dragging her in its wings?”
That was actually a good question. The wisest choice would be in its talons, that way its wings were free to move, but Hans wasn’t an expert on draconic physiology. “Semantics don’t matter as much as the reason it did that.”
“To eat her, obviously,” Oats replied.
“A skinny wench like her? It would need at least a dozen of her to sate its hunger.”
“Why else then?”
“Maybe it’s lonely and seeks companionship,” Henry piped up, silencing the table. Only him would attribute human qualities to a creature, a monster. It gave Hans an idea though.
What if they went to see for themselves whether it was real or not in the first place? If Hans brought back proof of its existence, proof that he encountered such beast and survived, there was no way Hanush wouldn’t consider finally transferring the fiefdom to him. He didn’t need to kill it, Christ, he doubted such thing was possible. Only a proof, like a scale or a broken tooth would be enough.
“How would a dragon converse with her? Unless by companionship, you mean fucking her, and if so, I doubt there would be much left of her afterwards,” Oats said.
“Yikes.” Nicholas grimaced.
“You don’t know, it could have a tiny pizzle.”
“Or it could be a female.”
“Let’s go and see for ourselves,” Hans declared suddenly, setting his cup on the table. That earned him a variety of reactions, from disbelief to dubious to excitement. “Let’s find that dragon.”
“When you said you were bored, I didn’t think it was to the point you’re willing to risk your life, sir,” Nicholas said.
“I’d rather not sate my curiosity if it means keeping my life,” Oats added.
“No one will die,” Hans stated, but he sounded unsure even to himself.
“There’s more than bandits roaming the roads,” Konrad said.
“I’m not asking you to accompany me. I’ll—”
“As if I or anyone at this table would let go you on your own,” Henry interrupted him with a scowl. He’d been leaning closer during their conversation, but put some distance between them again. Hans missed the contact.
“So what will we do if we see the drak? Kill it?”
“Bring back proof that we lived through an encounter with it, have bragging rights for the rest of our lives.” As well as title rights, Hans kept to himself. Only Henry knew about his tenuous relationship with Hanush, only because he’d step in too many of their arguments. He didn’t plan on sharing how too much of a failure Hanush thought him to be.
It was decided they would gather supplies and depart in two days’ time. Hans woke up the next day regretting his impulsive decision and wondered why nobody try to dissuade it. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one bored from the monotony of daily life. All but Henry were soldiers, they were used to fighting and protecting the innocent, to remain vigilant in times of peace.
He packed his saddlebags, reapplied wax to his bow string and sharpened the tips of his arrows. He also postponed talking with his uncle for as long as possible, but he had to do it at some point.
He found him in the meeting room, where he most often was these days. His relationship with his uncle wasn’t the most stable, but he couldn’t deny he was a hard-working man, always with an ongoing project to embellish or enforce peace in the fiefdom.
“Uncle,” he called out. They long had foregone the traditional greeting in private. “I need to speak with you.”
“I have a few minutes until the next meeting. What is it?”
“I’m to leave tomorrow morning. I have business in the North.”
“What sort of business? Not wooing another woman, I hope?”
Hans had a dry laugh. He was aware of Hanush’s opinion on his dalliances. “No. Those days are long gone, uncle, so no need to worry about me having a bastard.” His sight was solely focused on one blacksmith’s boy who didn’t return his feelings, let alone bear children. “I should be back within a week.”
“Alright.” He gave him a long, unreadable look, which never failed to make Hans uncomfortable. “Who are you bringing?”
“The usual retinue: Oats, Tankard, Nicholas and Konrad. I trust them.”
Hanush nodded. “I know you do. Don’t cause any trouble.”
As Hans was leaving the room, he heard Hanush request one of the guards to go and fetch Nicholas. Probably to make sure he would keep the noble in check during their excursion, no doubt.
After his discussion with Hanush, seeking Henry felt like the best comfort. He usually was at the forge at this time of the day, making horseshoes or completing commissions.
It was best if the blacksmith never learnt of the spell he held over Hans, the weight a few simple words could have on him. A few months ago, he would’ve laughed at anyone telling him loving someone this much was possible, that he could be enamoured by everything they did and invigorated at a simple smile. Yet here he was, long past the point of a simple crush. He was smitten beyond words. He knew nothing would ever come out of it and dearly cherished Henry’s friendship instead.
He indeed found him at the forge, focusing on finishing a sword. Hans knew how this part of the process was sacred, so he leaned against an entrance post and watched from a distance.
Henry was wearing a pale tunic that was stuck to his back and shoulders with sweat, the sleeves rolled up, and an apron with no gloves. He looked good even with a flushed face and his hair a mess. He just had it cut short on the sides and longer on top, the fringe stuck to his sweaty forehead. Hans appreciated the sight, taking his fill while the other was distracted.
He finished screwing on the pommel and grabbed a thin strip of dark leather to wrap the grip with. He worked with the ease of a movement repeated over and over until it was learnt ad vitam aeternam, his broad hands showing how dextrous they were. Hans tried not to think where else they could be. He was almost done when he finally noticed he had an audience, and Hans smiled at him.
“Good afternoon, Henry. I was hoping to borrow your whetstone to sharpen my blade.”
“Good day, sir. I was just about to come find you, actually.”
Hans’s heart sank. Was it to tell him he wasn’t coming with them? “What for?”
Henry grinned and presented him the sword. “I’ve been working on this for you.”
Hans approached to study it, albeit confused. He didn’t remember commissioning him recently. The last time was for a dagger delicately crafted to fit in his boot. This sword was even more beautiful from up close, sharp lines that glinted in the sunlight when he shifted it, and the grip easily fit his hand. He slid his finger along the engraving on each side of the blade. Fortuna audentes iuvat.
“Henry, this is a work of art, I daresay the best sword I ever had the privilege to hold.”
A lovely flush spread on Henry’s cheeks, his smile sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying a new technique, I’m glad you like it.”
“Hal, of course I do.” Hans swallowed and calmed his nerves, realising his fervency might be a tad too much for the situation. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. It’s a gift.”
“Now that’s nonsense, Hal, I’ll feel terrible if I don’t repay you in some way.”
“Knowing it’ll keep you safe is enough for me.”
Hans groaned in annoyance. “The thought is very kind, but at least— Fine, I’ll find another way that you won’t be able to refuse.”
Henry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, his downturned eyes giving him a soft look that Hans found himself staring at far longer than was considered proper, even among friends. He forced himself to look away. He was already planning on having materials delivered to him, including Toledo steel which he knew his sword was made of. It was expensive and Hans could afford it more than Henry did, even if he was doing well for himself.
The next morning, Hans was the last one to walk into the courtyard.
“Was it tough to leave your feathered bed this morning, my Lord?” Oats joked when he noticed him with bleary eyes and his hair quickly brushed. He was fully dressed except for his chestplate that he carried in his hand, the other one secured around his new sword’s handle. It felt comfortable and familiar, even before he’d practised with it last night.
“Late to his own journey,” Nicholas snorted.
“I’m not a morning person,” was all he could say, his cheeks warm. The stableboy had saddled his horse, so he attached his saddlebags to the saddle and took a minute to pet Aethon. He carried him many times before and had never failed him, it was only just he was rewarded half of an apple before they set off.
Pebbles, that Henry was busy checking the shoes of, smelled the treat and came closer to investigate, to her owner’s detriment. Hans snorted and, glancing around him at the soldiers, slid the other half into Henry’s hand. “For her, not you.”
“I would never dare to eat her treat.” Henry gave him a soft smile and fed Pebbles.
Their departure went smoothly, with the gate guards wishing them well on their journey. Soon the Rattay baileys were getting smaller at their back as they trotted ahead, to the North. It wasn’t the first time Hans took this road, well accustomed to its curves and bumps over the years. He’d met his fair share of bandits hiding in the trees, waiting to jump on the unsuspecting traveller or the ill-equipped merchant, but most of the time, he would only find corpses desecrated by scavengers.
He had also met peculiar people on the road and recognised that uneasy feeling for the warning it was. He knew how to evade them without speaking, or even looking at them. The less interactions, the better. Less chances of them lurking him into the shadows, never to be seen again.
He wasn’t on his own this time. Who could stop a group of six armed men?
The first hours were spent mostly in silence due to them not being fully awake despite making fun of Hans. The only one fully alert was Henry. He rode beside Hans, back straight, and kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Hans knew from his many tales how often he had to travel the way to Trosky and back on some petty errands, used like an errand boy as he was by anyone and their mother, but Henry needed the groschen. Plus, he enjoyed the freedom of roaming, exploring and meeting new people at his leisure. Hans lived his own dream of free roaming through his stories, his friend’s words soothing some of his yearning.
They stopped to give a break to the horses and eat, the sun taping hard on their heads. They cooled down under a shade before taking the road again, this time boasting about far-fetched exploits and tales.
Hans listened with incredulity Nicholas describe one of his last missions and rolled his eyes at the obvious exaggerations. Konrad gobbled it up, as everyone knew he would. Hans didn’t have the heart to reveal the truth, which was that Nicholas missed most of the battle after he broke his foot and remained in the infirmary, flirting with the sawbones.
They took turns to tell stories to pass the time, Hans not joining in because he knew no one wanted to hear about his hunts or tournaments, all noble activities and none worthy of their heroics.
It was all entertainment and no real treat. The few battles Hans had participated in had been barely that and he’d remained far from the midst of the battle, used as a marksman. None of it compared, and Hans should be fine with that, being a man accustomed to creating strategies rather than apply them, were he actually not fighting his uncle for the title. He had nothing but his name for him at the moment, even any money bestowed required his approval.
Returning with proof of his competence ought to change that, he was convinced. It would certainly gain him life experience, at the very least.
“I don’t have that sort of tales, none this heroic,” Henry was saying.
“Haven’t you rebuilt a village from its ashes?”
It was true. The village was now flourishing, last Hans visited it.
“I didn’t do it on my own. Plenty of good people helped me along the way. Hans acted more as a Bailiff than I did until I gave the title away.”
“I talked to my connections for resources and helped you with the villagers’ disputes, I wouldn’t consider this more than your investment.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Henry said, low enough that only Hans heard it. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“I know Marius Bilek, the contractor,” Tankard said. “He told me you intimidated him into helping you.”
Henry scoffed. “He was asking for an exorbitant wage that I was paying from my own pocket. Of course I talked him into a smaller wage.”
“I would’ve knocked some sense into him,” Nicholas said and the others laughed.
“Not everyone’s a wordsmith,” Hans said, thinking of the many times Henry had saved them from a fight by diffusing the tension with the use of few well-placed words.
“What are you trying to say?” Nicholas turned around on his horse to face Hans. He was only half jesting, his feathers ruffled. Hans snorted and was about to retort when shuffle in the shrub nearby had them all on immediate alert.
A woman emerged, dishevelled and out of breath. Blood splattered the front of her plain brown dress and face. “Please, you have to help us!” She exclaimed, almost knocking into Oats’ horse who neighed in surprised freight. The men stopped and Oats started to talk with her, trying to understand the situation. The woman kept pressing on, close to tears.
Hans threw a look where the woman had come from but couldn’t see much through the trees and tall vegetation. If her loved ones were attacked, it had to be deeper, for Hans didn’t hear any scream or noticed sudden disturbances of birds. Nature recognised danger, and right now, it was dead silent, he realised. It felt like the whole forest was holding its breath.
“Please, there’s no time to waste. You might save them, if we hurry.”
Konrad approached the woman on his horse and leaned down. “Climb behind me then, we’ll go faster by horse.”
Hans opened his mouth to call out to him, but stopped himself. What if his own fear was making him imagined things? Stopping Konrad from helping would lead to the death of this woman’s family and he would be guilty of it.
“I’ll go too,” Tankard said, never keen on leaving Konrad’s side. If he had doubts about the veracity of the woman’s saying, he didn’t show them. “How many were there?”
“Five, from what I could count,” the woman replied and climbed behind Konrad on shaky legs, her frail frame easily dwarfed by Konrad’s. Hans caught her eye and icy dread slid down his spine. The woman slapped the horse’s rump. Soon, both Konrad and Tankard were swallowed by the forest. Hans swallowed, angry and tense.
“I’m giving them five minutes,” he managed to say through his inner turmoil. He unconsciously closed the distance to Pebbles until he was almost touching Henry. “Something’s not right,” he continued with a low voice.
“You felt it too?” Henry asked him, his large expressive eyes showing he hadn’t bought the woman’s call for help either. “You think she could be—?”
“I don’t know, but we should trust our instincts.” He breathed through his nose in frustration. “You know what? Fuck that. Oats, Nick, we’re going too.”
He thought the soldiers would protest, but they didn’t. Perhaps he ought to feel weird about this, after all. They followed in the other horses’ hooves, but they disappeared through the thick moss after two hundred metres or so. They circled around but couldn’t find more.
They never found Konrad and Tankard. They searched for at least an hour, widening their cone of search over and over until it felt absolutely silly to not find any sign of them nor the woman or any recent battle. It was like they had vanished into thin air.
They debated whether or not to continue, part of them hoping the duo would find them on the road, but Hans knew there was slim chance of that happening. Ultimately they decided to continue forward, as the daylight was dimming.
“I should’ve gone with them,” Hans declared bitterly, shame eating at him. He was the reason they were on this journey in the first place.
“Then we would’ve lost you as well, unable to determine your fate.” Henry shook his head. “That encounter was avoidable and we’re all guilty of stopping and listening to that woman.”
“Still, they were under my command.”
“I mean no offence, but they’re both soldiers more experienced than you, my Lord. They know how to handle themselves. They’ll be fine,” Oats tried to reassure them, but his voice lacked conviction.
They moved on, and this time they insisted on having Hans ride between them, with Henry at the front and Oats and Nicholas behind him. Hans found himself staring more at the back of Henry’s head than their surroundings, almost afraid of seeing something he didn’t want to. Beside, the straight line of Henry’s broad shoulders was inviting, his bulk visible despite his armour.
They rode a few more hours with no more incident and found a secluded clearing to make camp at. Nicholas gathered wood for the campfire while Oats arranged their bedrolls. Henry and Hans went to hunt down some hares. Henry was good at finding them; Hans, at killing them with his bow.
“Nick told me something interesting the other night,” Henry said as they followed a disturbance in the grass.
“That doesn’t bode well. What did he say?”
“That you saw a fairy as a child? Is that true?”
Nick needed to stop sharing private conversations, Hans bitterly thought. He assumed he’d keep that story to himself, but it seemed he was once again wrong about people. “Aye,” he admitted as he studied the pattern of the hares not too far from them. He knocked an arrow, aimed and shot one in a single, fluid movement. He was quick enough to catch a second one before they all scurried away.
“We were both drunk when I told him, I was hoping he wouldn’t remember that,” Hans continued, not looking at Henry. That had been the only time he ever shared that story. People who came across the fae, whether by walking in a mushroom circle or stumbling on one in the wild, rarely lived to tell their tale. Those who did always mentioned a trade or a sacrifice of some sort.
They retrieved the hares and looked for more. “What happened?” Henry asked, his curiosity knowing no bounds. Hans usually loved that about him, but not this time.
“When I was a child, I thought I found a butterfly in a live trap one time, so I rescued it. It wasn’t a butterfly.”
“You rescued a fae?”
“Aye. She visited me a few times afterwards and we played games together, but she eventually stopped. I hope nothing bad happened to her.”
Henry didn’t say anything, and when Hans turned to him, he was staring at him with an odd expression. He started laughing. “I can’t believe you befriended a fae and never boasted about it.”
Hans playfully pushed him, laughing too despite himself. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“What was she like?”
“Other than her small size? As normal as you and I. I think she was just as lonely as I was.” Henry threw his arm around his shoulders at that, and he gratefully leaned into his side embrace.
“Not anymore, you’re not.”
They returned to camp with three hares that Oats cooked on skewers with some spices. They ate with a bottle of wine and, although the mood wasn’t the best, they stopped worrying about their lost friends for a while. It wasn’t until Hans laid down in his bedroll that the guilt hit him again full force. He found himself staring at the stars, sleep evading him. The firmament provided no answer to his silent worries, but offered comfort in its celestial beauty.
Every sound, every waft of wind, had him squeeze his hand around the handle of his dagger. The nicker of the horses and snores of his companions didn’t help his anxiety, and several times he was tempted to put his hand over their mouth to shut them up.
His thoughts kept replaying today’s events, how he should’ve jumped in to help rather than observe and stay silent. He should’ve ordered them to stay grouped and continue forward, to ignore the woman. Or he could’ve fend her off, tell her to go back where she came from, but for all he knew, Like Henry said, they were all guilty of stopping.
He managed a few hours of unfit sleep, and when he woke up, Nicholas was gone.
“Has either of you seen Nick this morning?” He called out after he checked if he was around.
“I thought he was still sleeping, he’s usually so vocal,” Oats replied after shaking his head.
His bedroll and possessions were still there, which meant he couldn’t be far. Yet he was nowhere to be found and didn’t respond to his name.
They expected him to show up at any point while they quickly ate, but when he didn’t, Henry’s tracking skills came handy once again. His left foot held most of his weight after an old injury gave him a limp, which was how Henry followed his footsteps through the thick vegetation, the grass reaching up to their knees. Hans and Oats led the horses at his back, unwilling to separate where it was so easy to get lost.
They went about a hundred metres deeper into the forest, Hans making sure to know in what direction the road was.
“There’s no way he would’ve gone this far from camp of his own volition,” he was saying, the site of their camp now completely hidden.
“Bandits, then?” Oats asked, unsure. “Maybe he went to relieve himself and they took him by surprise?”
“I don’t think bandits would do this,” Henry said from further away. When they joined him, Hans didn’t expect such gruesome sight. An animal had attacked Nicholas, no weapon could make such uneven groove-like slashes. It was difficult to find a part of him that wasn’t maimed or slashed, leading to a violent death. Was he lead or lured here?
Hans gripped a tree and sunk his nails into the trunk, grounding himself not to spill his insides out. Nick had done that for the both of them already. Once he swallowed down his nausea, Hans examined the scene. There was no sign of fighting from Nick, his hose still untied. Hans went and tied the laces for him, breathing in the iron smell.
“We can’t stay here,” Henry announced, his sword unsheathed. He was going in circles trying to keep an eye on their surroundings all at once.
“We can’t leave him here either. He deserves a burial.”
Henry didn’t argue, knowing it was the least they could do for the fallen soldier. He retrieved a spade from his belongings and offered to dig the grave.
“You’re too old and you’re too dainty,” he explained. “The faster we bury him, the faster we can return to the relative safety of the road.”
While he dug, Hans and Oats closed Nicholas' eyes and wrapped him in his cloak. Blood immediately started to soak the fabric. They gingerly deposited him in the shallow grave.
“Well, that’s done,” Henry slowly breathed out, dusting himself off. He missed a streak of dirt on his cheek. They awkwardly stood there, stuck between wanting to leave but unwilling to part without taking a minute of silence for their fallen friend.
The other two returned to their horses afterwards, in uneasy silence, leaving Hans alone at the grave. “Alea iacta est,” he quietly said to himself before walking to his horse. The die was cast, and they could only brace for which side it landed on.
They led the horses back to the road. The rising sun broke through the tree canopy and shone down on the beaten path to warm up their limbs. Hans didn't realis he’d been gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering until he relaxed his jaw.
“What are we doing, now that half our retinue’s dead or missing?” Oats asked.
“We continue forward,” Hans replied.
“My Lord, that’s madness. Twice now the forest tried to convince us to turn around.”
“I fail to believe it has anything to do with us. We’re nothing but preys to whoever lives here. They don’t need a reason to hunt us. I’m not backing down.”
“Henry, put some sense into him.”
Hans scoffed. “I know you’re scared, but we’re in the midst of it now. We’ll be out of the forest in a few hours.”
“More horrors are waiting for us.”
“We can’t outrun them either way. We’ll face them upfront, not like some coward who tries to run away from their fate.” Hans had been itching for a fight, his new sword yearning to taste blood, and he would be all too happy to indulge it. Even if he didn’t come out of the other side alive, he wouldn’t go without a fight. That he swore to himself.
“I agree,” Henry said. “Now, are you done bickering and can we move on, or do you plan on standing here for the rest of the day?”
Hans glared at Henry but climbed on his horse. He set him at a full gallop, eager to leave the forest despite his brave words. He remained at the front while Oats and Henry followed. The brisk pace kept them from talking, the wind loud in Hans’s ears and freezing on his cheeks. He would relax the pace to a canter every few minutes to keep the horses from overexerting themselves too fast. Hans was so tense on Aethon it was making him nervous, and he forced himself to relax.
The first few hours went by uneventfully. Perhaps nothing else would happen and they would make it out of the forest without any other incident.
Birds were flying over their heads, he idly remarked. They were circling around them, some diving to perch themselves on low branches. They observed Hans with their small beady eyes, unnaturally so. Hans would’ve thought the behaviour odd had it been a few birds, but more and more gathered around them. Ravens, crows, swallows, warblers... They crowded the sky, the trees, even the ground. What was going on? Hans peered deeper in the woods despite his better judgement. A glint, in the darkness, appearing again and again. Something was following them. The trees cleared up enough for Hans to have a glimpse of the creature. Blood froze in his veins at the fright that encompassed him.
The birds started croaking in a cacophony of songs and calls, so loud it initially deafened Hans. They sung a lamentation to the dead. Someone was about to die.
Aethon neighed in fright and accelerated, but he was panting, his coat foaming white with sweat. Hans threw a look behind him and noticed he couldn’t see the other two men. His heart leapt in his throat.
He turned him around, murmuring encouraging words, and galloped back. Birds littered the road that Aethon expertly dodged, his hooves inaudible through the birds’ requiem. He rounded a curve and saw Henry, straddling Oats who was on the ground, both their face bloodied as Henry threw punch after punch. Henry wasn’t pulling his strength, more blood spilling from Oats’ mouth as he struggled to block his hits. He managed to roll them in the dirt and started to choke Henry.
“What are you doing? Stop!” Hans yelled, but his scream was lost. He arrived next to them and almost got caught in the stirrup in his hurry to get down. Henry’s face was turning a dangerous shade of red, his attempts at bucking Oats off growing weaker and weaker.
Hans pulled hard enough on Oats’ shoulders to force his hands away from around Henry’s neck. Henry started to cough and gasp for breath, rolling on his side.
“What the fuck is wrong with both of you?” Hans’s voice echoed around them, and he realised the birds were now silent and still.
Oats evaded his grip and turned on him, a dagger appearing in his hand. Hans was wearing his plated armour, but the joints of the pieces were still vulnerable. Oats aimed for his armpit which Hans dodged.
“Stand down, Oats,” he barked out, to no avail. Oats seemed completely out of it, fear making his eyes crazed out, drool dripping on his chin. Hans evaded him again and drew his sword. He parried the next hit and retaliated by hitting his temple with the sword’s pommel, hoping to knock him out. The dull impact dazed Oats, but he didn’t fall unconscious. Instead the hit enraged him further.
He quickly swept his dagger in a wide arc. Hans deflected and the blade grazed his arm instead of seriously harming him. He growled, pissed off, but the bastard fought dirty and kicked him. Hans stumbled on a rock and fell on his back, hitting his head on the ground. He saw stars. He must’ve lost consciousness for a second, because he blinked and Oats was prone over him, dagger raised.
The soldier was distracted by the viscous ripping of flesh and wet crunch of bones snapping. Henry’s grunt of pain changed into something deeper, feral-like. Trees snapped and the ground shook underneath Hans. He turned his head enough to see the red flash of a whip wrap itself around Oats. No, not a whip, he realised dazingly, but a tail. A crimson red tail that was attached to the large body of a drak, taking over his world. It loomed over them for a second before bringing Oats closer to its face.
“Get off me!” Oats said and tried to free himself from its grip, but the dragon only tightened its hold, easily breaking his ribcage. He screamed in pain. Hans tried to push himself away from them, but his arms were nerveless and wouldn’t hold his weight. He was about to be killed by a fucking dragon, he hysterically thought, unable to process what was happening.
The drak leaned down and bit Oats’ head off with a vicious snap of its razor-sharp teeth.
Hans saw bone and sinew before blood stared pouring down on him, splattering to the rhythm of the weakening heartbeat. The pressure quickly weaned and Oats’ body went pliant. The dragon carelessly spat out his head away and discarded his body, its attention on Hans.
Hans’s face and neck, his whole front was bathed in blood, some even landed in his mouth. He spewed and wiped his eyes with his dirty sleeve, not that it did much. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and he knew that wasn’t a good thing. None of what was happening was good, and he felt it was about to turn worse for him.
Only it didn’t. The drak nuzzled his cheek, its warm breath fanning over his face, before stepping away from Hans’s field of view. He blinked at the blue sky, the colour so similar to the dragon’s eyes.
Strong, gentle hands helped him sit up. Henry crouched in front of him and inspected him for any injury, showing none of the violence that fuelled him a moment ago. He carefully prodded the back of his head and Hans hissed at the blooming pain. It felt like a second heart was beating there.
“You hit your head badly, but it’s not bleeding.”
“Thank God for that. I’d hate to have blood on my armour.”
Henry whistled to call Pebbles. He was completely naked, Hans realised distantly. Pebbles arrived from the woods, agitated but obedient. Oats’ horse was nowhere to be seen. Hans accepted a rag from Henry and wiped his face the best he could. His movements were sluggish, he had to focus on his hands to apply pressure.
“Let me.” Henry took over and cleaned him the best he could. Hans knew he looked a mess, he didn’t want to imagine his hair.
He wrapped his hand around Henry’s wrist to get his attention. “You’re the drak that was sighted,” he said.
“Aye, I am.” An unnatural light filled Henry’s eyes, too bright and intense in the trees’ shadow they were under. His pupils weren’t round anymore, but vertical like a cat’s. Or a snake’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Henry’s expression was a mix of bewilderment and amusement. “And how was I supposed to bring that up in a conversation? Hey, by the way, my Ma was a dragon, and so am I.”
Hans hummed in concession, then realised something. “Oh, fire doesn’t hurt you. That’s why you don’t have any burn scars.”
“That’s what you decide to focus on? Not the whole giant snake thing?”
“You’re no snake, perhaps a reptile, but I’ve no fucking clue. My head feels odd.”
Henry folded the rag to a clean side and swept it along his neck. He was bloodied and dirty as well, with his lip split open and a burst cheekbone. They must’ve been fighting for a few minutes before Hans stepped in. Interesting that those injuries didn’t disappear through transforming back and forth.
“Why were you and Oats fighting, Henry?”
Once he cleaned him as best he could, Henry let go of the rag and cradled the side of his face in his large, warm hand. Hans forced himself not to lean into his touch. Guilt swept over Henry’s face, his doe eyes crestfallen. “Hanush ordered them to kill you, Hans. I’m sorry.”
Hans stared at Henry, not sure he heard him right. “What- What are you saying?”
“The four of them were tasked by Hanush to use the forest’s reputation and murder you. I’m so sorry, Hans.”
What the fuck? Hans started to recoil, but Henry was still holding his head and didn’t let go. “I killed Nicholas, I think that’s how Oats knew that I knew,” Henry continued. “Earlier, when the birds came, he tried to use the distraction to kill me. He almost succeeded.”
Hans didn’t know what to think. “And the others?”
“The forest took care of Konrad and Tankard. I wish I found a way to tell you earlier, but I didn’t know how.”
“I knew my uncle didn’t like me, but to have proof… How d’you know?”
No matter the situation, he was confident that Henry would always protect him, he never had to be afraid of him. He always was a source of comfort, now more than ever. Henry meant to remove his hand, only for Hans to put his on top and press it back.
“Me being a dragon, there’s some inhuman traits that I have in my human form, to put it simply. I hear better, for one.”
“Oh.” Hans’s head reeled with all the new information and the pain… He felt like sleeping for a whole year. This time he leaned into the support of Henry’s hand not entirely of his own volition, his eyes heavy and a dull sound ringing in his ears.
Another hand joined the first. Henry gently shook him. “Hey, stay awake.”
“You stay awake,” he weakly protested, then lost consciousness.
He returned to himself slowly, like swimming out of a lake of molasses. He opened his eyes to a rooftop. His mind was fuzzy, but he was fairly certain he had been outside and away from any housing when he passed out.
“There you are,” Henry murmured with relief. He was holding his hand, Hans realised as a thumb kept stroking the back of his hand. “You were out for the better part of an hour.”
“How did you manage to build a house in that time?”
Henry started to laugh, but it was a wet, fragile thing. His large eyes were red-rimmed. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed Hans was laying on. They were in the kitchen of some house, or a cabin, but Hans couldn’t investigate more, with Henry taking over his vision. He leaned close and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek, then his other, his breath tickling his face. It smelled of the Buck’s Blood tincture he kept gifting him.
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up,” he admitted in a weak voice. “I once saw someone get hit on the head and fall dead right there.”
He understood Henry’s worries, he really did, but he couldn’t imagine himself dying from a fall. “I’m not just anyone, Hal. What kind of death would it be, betrayed by my own retinue?”
“An awful one, and an empty, dreadfully boring rest of my life.” Henry smiled down at him, so earnest and beautiful, and Hans couldn’t take this feeling anymore. He leaned up, ignoring the lancing pain at the back of his skull, and kissed him. He kissed him with all the yearning, the need and desperation he’d bottled up along with his love for Henry. Even for a moment, he could relieve some of it into the softness of his mouth.
Henry pulled away with a grimace, removing his hands, and Hans’s heart sank. He meant to reach out to him, but instead fisted the dusty covers. Had he wrongly assumed?
“I’m- I’m sorry. I thought—”
“You don’t mind that I’m a dragon?”
That drew Hans to a pause. He frowned, almost affronted by the question. “Why would I? Anything can be handled as we go, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re the same Henry I’m in love with.”
Henry’s eyes lit up and a smile bloomed on his lips. This time he was the one to reach down for Hans’s mouth to plant a shy, soft kiss, then another when Hans’s response was to gasp. Hans kissed him back just as gently, almost vehemently. He beckoned him closer by sliding a hand in his hair, as soft as he imagined it so many times. Henry leaned a knee beside Hans’s hip and straddled his lap without ceremony, his eagerness at closing any distance between them making the noble’s cock twitch and flare to life. Henry braced his weight on his hand by his head and pressed him back down into the bed. It was fine by Hans who enjoyed the comfort of his warm body on top of him. His head throbbed, but it was manageable and easy to ignore.
“I don’t remember not loving you. I probably started having feelings for you the first night we met, as infuriating as you were,” Henry later confessed, wrapped around him in the narrow bed.
It turned out Henry didn’t build a house while he was unconscious. They were in an abandoned cabin hidden from the main path. It was small, a mere room with a storage on the side, with the bed sitting next to a lit hearth. Henry had found the house through some help, he’d said. Not being human, could he communicate with the other creatures of the forest? Was it how he always managed to roam the lands without being assaulted by them, only having to deal with the bandits? That would explain a lot.
They barely could fit on the straw mattress, which Hans took as an excuse to sprawl half on top of Henry. They were both dressed, and yet this felt more intimate than all the sex Hans had indulged into, his heart full.
“I was jealous of you. unafraid to speak your mind. All my acts of rebellion chastised by Hanush had long bereft me of spirit. I thought this was how I was going to live my days, forced to follow the tides and refused any attempt at controlling the direction.” He kissed the swell of his collarbone through his collar, his chest hair tickling. “You were like the rock in the middle of the river that my ship crashed into, then anchored itself to. My Lancelot.”
Henry carded his fingers in his hair, careful not to touch the throbbing bump. “I thought you were an arrogant brat who had everything he wanted and yet whined for more. You put up a good front, but your real self is so much more interesting to get to know.”
Hans didn’t answer, but he shifted on top of him with a small smile. Henry had been so quick to see past his constructed mask, in spite of Hans’s reluctance. He’d held a grudge against him at the time, when he in fact had been scared of finally being seen after wanting it for so long. How did this big blue-eyed blacksmith’s boy read him easily when so many others didn’t? The truth was no one had tried to, until Henry.
“Who’s this Lancelot you called me?” Henry asked suddenly, waking Hans up from his light dozing. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be sleeping, but he was too comfortable to fight his heavy lids, Henry’s strong heartbeat acting as a lullaby.
“He’s a character from the Arthurian tales. He was sir Galehaut’s knight.” Hans told him the tale in a low voice, the memory of how he himself had first heard it still fresh in mind. He’d longed for that type of relation, to be close enough to someone that they would give up their life if the other was to die.
“It sounds like us,” Henry echoed Hans’s thought once he finished the tale. “Although I can’t easily die. It’s very difficult to kill a dragon.”
“Right. I might need to give you another nickname. Zmaj fits you better. According to the legends, the dragon could transform into a human at will and was benevolent. He even fought Azhdaya, the demon dragon.” He smiled. “He also would sleep with a lot of women. Tell me, Henry…”
“That- I don’t fit all of those traits. I only want to have sex with you.” And then, as if realising what he was saying, Henry clamped up. When Hans looked up at him, he was beat red but looked him in the eye with determination. “If you want to.”
“You dolt, you can’t imagine how long I’ve imagined this.” Hans climbed on his lap, almost falling over in his hurry. Henry rested his large hands on his hips, looking up at him with such adoration that it was Hans’s turn to flush red.
“It doesn’t have to be now,” Henry gently said.
“It doesn’t have not to be now.”
Henry snorted and grabbed handfuls of his arse to pull him close, their groins pressed together. They groaned, the sensation heightened by their desire. “You’re quite the sweet talker, aren’t you? Is this how you seduced all the women that fell in your bed?”
“No, my face sufficed.”
Henry dragged him down by the nape of his neck and smashed their mouths together, suddenly impatient. Hans’s cock started to swell at his fervency, and he grounded down on him. That felt good, and they weren’t even properly touching yet. This ought to change. He kissed back just as fiercely and gasped at the first touch of Henry’s tongue, warm and solid, against his lips. He opened them to suck on it like he would on his cock. He never had sex with a man but plenty with women and knew from experience how good it could feel.
He mapped his torso with reverent hands, his lovely muscles he’d secretly admired many times. He reached his ribs when Henry hissed in pain. Immediately he raised his hands away from him before rethinking it and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He gasped at the patches of reds and blues covering Henry’s ribs and stomach.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I had more important things on my mind.”
“Your well-being is just as important.” He pressed his palm more delicately on the bruised flesh, grimacing in sympathy. Henry had brought in their saddlebags, and Hans got up to retrieve a salve from his bags. “Remove your tunic.”
“It doesn’t hurt that much.” He put on a brave face until Hans slightly poked him. “Alright, I was more focused on you.”
“That would be normally the correct answer, but not with that painting on your chest.” He warmed up the salve between his hands before carefully applying it, the waft of comfrey and chamomile drifting in the space between them. Henry stood still, but shivered when Hans grazed a nipple. He took note of that reaction for later.
An idea came to mind. “Would it hurt less, in your dragon form?” He inquired. Perhaps in such a bigger body, the pain would be less obvious, if nothing else.
“It would, I think. Everything feels different, and yet not, in that form. It always takes me a minute to get used to my new senses.”
“That’s fine. I want to see you, I had little time earlier.”
They went outside. The cabin was away from the road and surrounded by trees, except for the back where whoever had lived here had cut trees for firewood, exposing a sizeable half circle.
“This should be big enough,” Henry stated after a quick look around. “Stay back a little, just in case.”
Hans took a few steps back and leaned against the cabin. “Is the transformation painful?”
“Not really. It’s hard to describe. It’s like when you remove socks at night when your feet are swollen, it’s both painful and a relief. I, um- It’s best if I’m naked for this.”
Being shirtless, he only had to unlace his hose and braies to remove them, and he found himself bare. Hans took his clothing and tried not to stare down, but he couldn’t help a glimpse. His mouth filled with saliva.
He returned to his spot and didn’t have to wait for long. He’d heard the sounds the first time, but now he couldn’t look away. Henry’s skin rippled and ripped like snake molt, a new form growing from its remains. Red scales, vicious claws, bright blue eyes. Hans was bewildered and in awe. In front of him stood a tall dragon, tall enough that he needed to pull his neck back to see his head, and he was…
“Beautiful,” Hans breathed out. “You’re so beautiful, Hal.”
Henry shook himself and stretched his large wings, flapping them once and sending dust everywhere. Hans laughed in delight at the display, only realising how precious of a moment this was. How much trust Henry was putting in him.
Henry leaned his arms down for his head to come level with Hans, who smiled. “Your eyes are the same.”
Henry slow blinked and gently nuzzled his chest. Hans gasped at how warm he was and gently explored the scales of his face. They were supple and softer than he anticipated, and he found himself petting his muzzle and brushing back the flexible spikes surrounding his face, a natural protection he reckoned, along with the two pairs of horns that adorned his brows and elegantly curled upwards. The spikes connected to the crest that started at his neck and ran down his spine. He suspected he could harden them, for a lack of a better word, when he felt threatened. Right now they were soft as he made a purr-like sound and rubbed himself some more on Hans’s chest, like a monster cat.
He dropped a kiss between his eyes, then another on the strong arch of his cheekbone. He dragged his hands down his neck to his powerful chest, anywhere he could reach. Even with his front paws tucked underneath him, Hans couldn’t reach his back. He circled him and stroked his side, careful on his ribs. They didn’t look bruised, but he was covered in scales rather than skin, he doubted they changed colours… or did they? They varied in hues, from crimson to wine reds, and reflected the rays of the warm setting sun.
His underbelly was lighter and devoid of scales, his flesh yellow, almost golden. It was a fascinating shade that Hans investigated closer with curious hands. Henry’s belly vibrated as he purred, shifting to give him more access. He’d twisted his head to follow him with his eyes, his long tail lazily wagging in a content manner.
He pet his flank as he noted the powerful legs, strong muscles visibly shifting with each movement. They led to five-fingered hand-like paws, sharp claws, easily able to shred through anything. His eyes naturally followed their curve and landed on his groin. A pair of heavy balls hung low, about the size of both his fists combined. A hot pulse ran through Hans, but he was perplexed by the lack of cock. There was a bulge right in front of his balls with an opening, which he recognised as a sheath.
“Oh…” He breathed out. He really wanted to know what came out of it, the thought insistent enough he unconsciously moved closer. “Can I…?”
Henry’s belly trembled where his hand was still pressed, and he shifted. Hans thought at first he was moving away from him, but he merely turned on his side to lay in the grass. He lifted his leg to expose himself, clearly indicating to Hans that yes, he could.
His big balls were hairless and smooth-looking, pinker than the rest of him. Hans licked his lips, unsurprised he was attracted simply because this was Henry and he loved everything about him. He stepped close again and pressed kisses on his chest, smirking at the rumble Henry made. He followed a path towards his crotch. It was partially because he didn’t want to frighten, but mostly because he couldn’t get enough of him in any form. He smelled the same.
His lips met the base of his sheath. The flesh was malleable, with something definitely harder underneath. Hans let it go for the moment, turning his attention to the large sack. He had to use both his hands to lift it, humming at how heavy it felt. He played with it, shifting its weight back and forth. He watched with interest as it contracted and twitched under the ministrations.
“You like that?” Hans asked, but the answer was obvious. He kissed a ball, then the other. They were so hot, warming up his face as he couldn’t help but rub it against them. The smell was musky and potent, and Hans couldn’t get enough. He turned his head, rubbing his cheek instead, and met Henry’s eyes. He had been watching him all this time.
Hans opened his mouth to talk, but something interesting had him forget his words. Henry’s sheath had opened and a pink tip was visible, slowly growing. His cock slid out, beautiful and long and thick. Jesus Christ, it was huge. The tip was bulbous and gave to a widening length with textured ridges, not dissimilar to the spikes around his face. It led to a base that had to be as thick as Hans’s arm.
They both stared as a drop of precum pearled at the tip and slowly slid down the length, lost in one of the ridges. Glancing up at Henry’s face, Hans slowly reached out to curl his fingers around his him, so hot and hard. His own grew impossibly hard in response, trapped in the confines of his braies, but he ignored it for the moment. He tightened his hold and reached up until he reached the tip. He twisted his wrist, trying to get more precum to come out. It didn’t take much, Henry being relaxed and aroused from all this gentle attention.
Holding the base as best he could, he guided the tip towards his lips and licked it. He tasted salty and tangy, almost bitter. Hans slid down his tongue to gather more precum, then returned to the source. He’d never done this, but he remembered how the bathmaids had him curse the Lord when they paid attention to specific spots on his cock. He sucked one of them, right under the thick head, and was pleased to note it had the same effect on Henry. He pumped the length a few times to get used to its heft, the skin stretching and pulling to follow his movement.
“So pretty,” he murmured, more to himself than Henry. More precum dripped and he was there to lick it away. Henry huffed and delicately pawed at his clothing. He wanted him to undress. Hans very reluctantly let go of him to do so, even as his stomach warmed up at what was about to happen. He freed his cock from his braies and sighed with relief. He felt himself blush under Henry’s intent attention, which he felt silly about when he had the taste of his precum on his tongue.
Henry rolled on his back and arranged his wings around him so that he wouldn’t put weight on them. He crooked a large finger in a come-here gesture, making Hans laugh. He was naked and hard with a horny dragon, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
“How do you want me?” He asked, his gaze shifting between his crotch and his face. He couldn’t help himself. Henry patted his stomach. “On you?” At the nod, Hans ventured closer, unsure.
“Won’t it hurt you?” He straddled his stomach like he would a horse, only for a very different purpose. He felt sturdy underneath him in a way that made him comfortable enough to let him carry his whole weight. Henry didn’t protest, far from it, judging by the wide expanse of his pupils. He moved back, enjoying the glide of his soft skin, until his arse met the rigid line of his cock. He rubbed himself against it. The head left a sticky precum trail on his lower back.
“This is nice.” Henry purred and tapped his thigh, then his finger made a circle gesture. “Uh, the other way? Alright.” It was a stretch but Hans managed to settle the other way around, facing his cock instead. Careful hands guided him to lay on his stomach on top of Henry, large enough that he could settle comfortably.
Henry pulled him closer to his face, and he knew why an instant later when he buried his snout in his arse. He gasped and moaned at the first broad stroke of his tongue, from his balls to his puckered hole. His tongue was narrow and smooth, and very long as he discovered when Henry proceeded to lick him open. It was filthy and nothing Hans ever experienced before. He moaned and pressed back, causing the tip of his tongue to slip inside.
He cursed and rolled his hips to get more friction on his cock that was trapped underneath him. He had had his own fingers in him before, but they weren’t as flexible as Henry’s tongue was, unable to reach the depth it did. He looked behind him and throbbed at the way Henry was already admiring him as he worked.
The dragon’s cock bobbed in front of him and almost plopped in his face. Hans grabbed it with both hands, widening his stance to keep his balance and giving better access to Henry in the process. Fuck, how deep could that tongue reach? He stroked him a few times and latched his mouth to the side, laving him with open-mouthed kisses towards the head. He licked it and let it rest on his tongue. It was weighty and girthy and he imagined how it would feel in his arse. The thought accompanied by a well-placed stroke got him so close to coming he could almost taste it.
“Oh fuck,” he drooled around the cock in his mouth. “Right there, Hal.”
Henry placed a hand on his lower back that sprawled almost the whole width of him. He grew insistent on that same spot in Hans, but it was his purring that undid him. The vibrations went right through him, from his hole down to his cock and balls. Hans’s eyes rolled in their sockets and he came hard, harder than he remembered ever coming. His cock spurted between them, untouched but for the friction of their bellies. He moaned around his mouthful and breathed hard through his nose, jerking at the fervent licking.
Henry unfurled his tongue, Hans’s hole twitching at the loss, and playfully nipped his arse cheek. Hans cursed and sucked hard in retaliation, not that it was much of one. He liked the shape of him, different from anything he knew. He pumped his length with both hands and took in his whole head. He moaned at the fresh batter of precum that spread on his tongue and eagerly swallowed it before sucking on him as best he could. The stretch of his jaw wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was foreign, and he didn’t mind the discomfort. Not when Henry was rumbling and tensing underneath him, his massive hand awkwardly petting his head and back while careful of the claws.
He took more length, a tad too enthusiastically, and gagged when it hit the back of his mouth. He coughed and gasped inelegantly, none of it faltering his resolve to return for more. But no matter his enthusiasm, the ridges stretched his mouth too wide and wouldn’t enter his throat. He called it quit and dragged his tongue over the ridges and bumps instead.
“It’s too big, I’m not practised enough for it. Your human cock would be a different story, I reckon.” Hans licked a stray dribble of spit on his sheath. “Should we try my other hole? You already demonstrated great enthusiasm at stretching me open for you.”
It turned out the salve was slick enough to be used as lubricant, Hans discovered after looking through their supplies. Henry admired him from upclose while he stretched himself wider, face flaming hot with excitement. Four of his fingers weren’t as large as that cock, but his arousal would make up for the rest.
He pondered about the best position for them to be comfortable. He couldn’t find a barrel but he did find a trough. He turned it upside down and retrieved a mite-eaten fur blanket that he spread on it. Not the best, but it would do. The height would give Henry better leverage to fuck into him, at least that was what Hans imagined, cock weeping from all those lovely images as he thought it through.
He climbed on the trough and settled on his hands and knees. Arching his back invitingly, he looked over his shoulder. “Come on, then.”
Henry was great at following orders when he deemed them worthy. He didn’t need to be told twice and walked on top of him, tall enough he could comfortably hover. His cock trailed on Hans’s back before he positioned it over his ass. Hans guided it with a hand where they both wanted it. The broad head bumped into his rim, making him moan, before it caught and pushed in bluntly. Henry pressed in and his insides made way for him, slowly but surely. Hans gritted his teeth at the burning and discomfort, and he hurried a hand between his legs to jerk himself and distract him from the pain.
It only took a few moments for the pain to lessen, Henry making soothing sounds and being the most patient. Hans reached a hand behind him to trace his rim stretched wide around the massive cock. He was only a third in, he noticed, which fuck. He patted his chest to tell him he was ready for more, and Henry plunged deeper and deeper. The ridges pressed against something in him that made him see stars, and he gasped loudly. Henry stopped at that, but Hans was quick to pant out, “No, it’s good, so good.”
Henry braced his hand closer to the trough and drove down in one last push, sinking right down to his sheath. Hans felt like he was about to be split in two, he was so full. He groaned and put a hand on Henry’s front leg, holding on for dear life when Henry started to pull out.
Hans added more salve and the next thrust went smoother, then the one after that. Soon Henry was steadily fucking into him, panting hard. His balls were like a battering ram against his taint and own balls, swinging hard. Hans was in bliss, his face hidden in the crook of his arm to muffle his moans, but he was still being awfully loud to his ears.
His whole body was on fire, sweat dripping down his spine and falling into his eyes. His world was centred on Henry’s dragon cock bringing him closer and closer to God, filling him with euphoria unlike anything he’d known until now. He didn’t know he could feel that way, so good he was one breath away from his spirit quitting his own body. Was it why sodomy was forbidden by the Church, so that no men would have a taste of paradise while they still drew breath? Hans would gladly walk into Hell then, even if he didn’t believe there was anything wrong with requited love, no matter who it was between.
Henry puffed and shifted. He lowered himself to his knees, bracketing Hans between them. He felt small underneath him, which turned him on even more than he already was. He collapsed on his elbows and raised his ass higher, the both of them moaning at the new angle. The ridges rubbed on that same spot inside him from earlier, and it was so sudden and insistent he came. He shook hard, muscles trembling, and he tightened around Henry as his body tried to suck him in.
He laid his forehead on his forearm as he came back to himself, Henry now pounding into him with abandon, chasing his own pleasure. He canted his hips and let him abuse his hole, warmth starting to spread from his groin yet again. Within no time, he was hard and leaking, like he hadn’t come twice already.
The mix of lubricant and precum had gathered on his rim and made wet squelches with every thrust, noisy and loud in the false sense of stillness of the forest. He idly wondered who was watching him get railed like no tomorrow, not that he cared at the moment. Beside, Henry would protect him.
“Are you close to coming, love? You’re fucking me so good, I might come again before you do.” He reached between his legs to take himself in hand, jerking himself fast. His nerves were raw and oversensitive, a new orgasm building in his guts fast. Henry seemed to be close as well, by his rougher behaviour. His cock was changing, he realised with a mix of surprise and interest.
The base was growing, harder and harder to push in until it got too big for his rim and it got stuck. Henry made his version of a moan and ground into him hard enough to make him spread wider, his hips protesting. The knot grew some more and pressed right against his special spot. Henry humped him fast, undeterred by being tied to him, and Hans groaned and came again with a body shiver.
He knew Henry had followed suit by the sudden hot feeling inside of him, accompanied by rhythmic twitching of his cock and the contraction of his balls. He was thoroughly being filled by the dragon, forced to take it all as the knot would keep him well plugged for a while.
Hans twisted his fingers in the fur blanket, his knees starting to hurt. He moved to alleviate the pain and ended up sprawled on his stomach with his legs spread, the knot overstimulating him the whole time.
“Whilst I wouldn’t mind laying here for the unforeseeable future, how long until your knot shrinks?”
He grumbled at Henry moving, but no pain came with the movement. Instead he felt the pressure lessen in him as the sun shone down on him for the first time in what felt like hours. The trough groaned in protest at an additional weight before a pair of human lips kissed his neck, human Henry settling at his back. He was sticky with sweat and his cock remained in Hans, but it felt like an average human cock rather than a draconic one.
“I can’t believe you took me so well,” he said with another kiss before pressing his face in the crook of his neck. Hans turned to him to kiss his temple.
“Were you expecting any differently from me?”
“Not at all, my Lord.” They stayed like that for a blissful moment. Hans would’ve gladly stayed like that for a while before enticing Henry into fucking him again. He was filled with cum and wanted more already, but instead he caressed Henry’s arm by his head and played with the hair.
Too quickly to Hans’s opinion, Henry breathed him in, his nose tickling his ear, and pressed a lingering kiss underneath. He disentangled himself with a groan and slid out of him. Hans already missed him, even as his cum started seeping from his hole. It dribbled down his crack in an uncomfortable slide to land in the fur, and there was a lot of it. He reached back to touch his rim and his breath caught at how loose and sore it felt. Nothing stung when he investigated, which was good. He rose and stretched, his back popping.
“Here.” Henry thrusted a waterskin at him, coming out of the house. He waited for Hans to drink before he pulled him by the waist to kiss him soundly. He had rinsed his mouth and tasted of mint. Hans wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him back, pouring some of his love that his body could barely contain. The blacksmith was a really good kisser, which didn’t come as a surprise considering his many talents. He smoothed a palm on Hans’s arse cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Sore, but good. My head doesn’t hurt anymore either. I missed your face.”
A pretty blush bloomed on Henry’s face. “You were so eager for my dragon… self.”
“I was eager for you, in any form,” Hans said, then leered at him. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again with your human self later.”
Naked as they both were, it was easy to feel the reaction that got him. They returned inside to clean themselves and eat. Oats’ saddlebags carried all their food rations that was meant for six people, so they had a feast. Even Henry, who was always hungry, ate to his fill.
Hans remembered something later, while they were preparing the horses to leave. “This Lady Stephanie, did you actually kidnap her?”
Henry laughed at the question. “No. I’m not the only dragon out there.”
“What? Who else is a dragon?”
“People, but that shouldn’t be your main focus right now. What are you going to do about your uncle?”
Hans sighed. “I’ll go to Prague to speak to the King and prove my ownership once and for all. I thought Hanush wanted me to be fit for the role, which I know now not to be true.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. You’ve followed and protected me this entire time, even when I didn’t know it.” He reached out to squeeze Henry’s hand and Henry squeezed back. His eyes reflected the sun at this time of day, the pupils back to their normal shape.
“There’s no world in which I wouldn’t follow you, Hans. I love you.”
Hans choked back the sudden need to cry. “And I, you. So much.” Aethon was bumping his silky nose on his neck and trying to munch on his hair, so he let go of Henry to retrieve an apple. He started to cut it in half. “Will you travel a few more days with me then, before we’re to return to Rattay? I’ll need to retrieve some official documents, but I was supposed to be gone for at least a week.”
Henry smiled and accepted the second half of the apple when Hans offered it.