Chapter Text
Hans woke up slowly for once, eyes staying shut as awareness sluggishly came back to his body. He laid stomach-down with his face turned into the pillow. There was a warm, naked body plastered on top of him, a strong blacksmith’s arm wrapped around his middle. Henry. Hans smiled, feeling his lover’s soft, steady breaths tickling the hairs on the nape of his neck. One of his hands drifted down to where Henry’s lay at his waist, caressing over the backs of his fingers, just a small touch to feel closer with already no space between them.
It hadn’t been long since they’d started sharing a bed. At first, Henry had assured him it wasn’t necessary, considering his proclivity for the nightmares and sleepwalking which had awakened Hans in the past from just sharing a room. Hans had made a show of annoyance every time he’d managed to drag his friend back to bed, but deep down he’d always been worried for him, waking up with a pit in his stomach those mornings Henry had ambled away unnoticed. Not knowing if he’d merely gotten an early start to the morning, or if he was already miles away, perhaps still unconscious and vulnerable. No, this was far better, to be so close to Henry that he’d undoubtedly know if any night terrors ripped him away, mentally or physically.
And now that he knew the serenity of waking up in Henry’s arms, how could he ever deny himself? Each morning with him was a gift, still so novel to the young lord who had never had the opportunity to stay with a lover through the ringing of the early morning bells. So far, Hans noticed how Henry seemed to prefer their current position, his sleeping body always shifting to cover Hans and press him down into the bed like a blanket of chainmail.
The first couple times they’d awoken in such a position, Henry had apologized, ever conscious of Hans’s claustrophobia making a reappearance and not wanting to accidentally trigger it. Truthfully, in any other circumstance, waking up with a crushing weight on top of him would no doubt send him into a spiral. He found Henry to be the exception, though. His friend’s weight was comforting instead of damning, the steady, quiet movement of his heartbeat and breathing only calming to Hans’s senses. He’d told Henry as much—being held by him in any way, even like this, was a blessing he didn’t intend to squander.
Maybe it was because Henry was his loyal protector, and his body knew it intrinsically, even unconscious. Maybe it was because he loved Henry.
Oh, yes, that had happened. He loved Henry, and Henry loved him back, saying it with words and kisses and touches that Hans had thought he’d never get to experience from a man. It still felt like a dream, one he dreaded ever having to wake from. How was he lucky enough for his affections to actually be reciprocated by this most important man of his life? Even pressed so close to him, legs intertwined, their states of undress being proof enough of their love, Hans had to forego the urge to pinch himself.
If only he could wake up like this every morning, he’d die a much happier man. The wedding still loomed in the back of his mind, but he did his best to banish it from thought, and hoped to keep it that way for at least a month or two. His heart was too full of Henry for him to focus on anything else right now. He wanted to revel in it; to let the knowledge fully sink in that he and Henry could have this life together, even if only in secret and for whatever time they were allowed.
Henry shifted subtly behind him, his head burying itself closer against Hans’s neck, and Hans felt the shape of his cock, soft but always imposing, pressing against his upper thigh. Instinctively, he shifted his hips back against him, though he couldn’t move much with them already pressed together. The hand underneath his clenched around the delicate curve of his waist.
It’s not that he wanted to wake Henry. Being the lighter sleeper, Hans typically woke earlier and would sometimes start his day hours before Henry rose from his bed. But since they’d started… this, he never wanted to leave early anymore. He’d laze about in bed with Henry all day if he could. He craved every detail that their new relationship brought—every knowing glance, lingering touch. The subtle differences in how Henry spoke to him when they were alone, the weight behind every carefully chosen word. The hand on his waist and prick against his thigh were no different, and his body greedily leaned into them. It was exciting, being Henry’s. He wondered if that miller’s girl, or that healer girl from Nebakov, had felt the same. Or was Henry different with him?
Henry mumbled sleepily into his neck and tightened his arm around him, pulling him from his thoughts. Hans finally opened his eyes and smiled, waiting to see if his friend would fully wake.
“…Hans?” Henry eventually murmured against his skin, voice quiet and croaky with sleep. Hans merely hummed in response, interlocking their fingers. Henry pressed lazy kisses against him—more rubbing his lips on him than anything else, the scratch of his beard against the delicate skin of his nape both ticklish and arousing.
They stayed like that for a while, Henry slowly coming to full consciousness, until Hans could no longer hold back his excitement at his lover being awake. He twisted his arm to lightly push at Henry, who then lifted himself up so Hans could turn over to face him.
It was a tight fit—they were in Henry’s bed, meant for one man, Hans’s bed unused on the opposite side of their room. Hans had suggested pushing the beds together for more space—and, well, it just seemed more practical now. Henry had refused, talking about how someone else at the Den would notice the implication. He’d been right, and Hans wasn’t foolish enough to pretend otherwise, but it still rankled his nerves. He wanted to fuck in an adequately-sized bed, and soon.
Facing each other, Hans’s cock—already rising to fullness, eager as he was—could return the press into Henry’s thigh. Henry groaned quietly at the feeling, and Hans’s smile turned suggestive. Their faces were so close he could smell Henry’s foul morning breath, but he was far from caring.
“Morning…” Henry whispered, eyes still drooping with tiredness but full of affection, as was his gentle smile. Hans leaned in, unable to resist a kiss.
Predictably, it didn’t taste the best, both of their mouths stale and bitter with last night’s beer. But Henry didn’t seem to mind either, wrapping his arms around him and tilting his head to better slot their lips together. Until now, Hans had never wanted to kiss someone despite their morning breath, nor been on the other side of it. He smiled so hard into their kiss they had to break it.
“Morning,” Hans whispered a delayed response, feeling giddy. Henry’s hands were caressing up and down his bare back, and he strived to memorize the sensation.
After a minute, Henry blinked, though the easy affection on his face didn’t recede. “Did we oversleep?”
Hans eyed the bright shaft of light coming from the closest window. It wasn’t dawn by any means, but it couldn’t be that close to midday either. “No. What do we have to worry about oversleeping for?”
“Sam leaves for Kolin today, remember?” A hint of sadness shone in Henry’s deep blue eyes. “Don’t want to miss him leaving. Got to see him off.”
Some of the excitement left Hans, a pout unwittingly appearing on his face. He’d forgotten in the haze of such a perfect morning that Samuel was departing today. Not that Hans wanted him to stay; on the contrary, that man could stay in Kolin indefinitely to never return, all the better. But Henry had been rather low-spirited about it, worrying over when he would next see him.
Hans had already held negative feelings about this ‘brother’ of Henry’s who came seemingly out of nowhere, but they’d only grown to be more complicated since earlier that week, when Henry had revealed to him that Sam knew. About them. He shuddered, just as he had during that horrid conversation.
“What!? Henry, you’ll have to run that by me again.” Hans gaped at the man lying next to him on the bed. They were both naked, cum still cooling on Hans’s belly from their activities over the last hour, but that did nothing to dissuade the young lord’s outrage. “You’re telling me that we’ve been together, truly together, for only a few days, and already someone else knows?! You’ve got to be yanking my pizzle, or I swear—”
“It’s not as bad as you think, Hans!” Henry placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide in the way they got when he was trying to convince someone. “Samuel can be trusted. I know it’s not ideal, but he’s serious about keeping our secret. He told me himself that he’d cover for us tonight.”
“Yeah, you can trust him, maybe,” Hans huffed, feeling more panicked by the second. “But he doesn’t like me. What’s stopping him from running to the nearest priest tomorrow and turning me in? Christ, Henry—”
“What? He’d never! First of all, that would just put me in danger as well.” Henry shook his head, confusion filling his eyes. “Second, what do you mean he doesn’t like you? He likes you fine; you can trust him.”
“Are you blind, Henry?” Hans seethed, closer to losing his patience. “Whenever I’m around you he watches with those beady eyes like a disapproving nun. God, and he knows. That makes all the more sense now!”
Seeing that his panic was only spiraling further, Henry lowered his voice into a careful, assuring tone, one that Hans almost found patronizing. “Look, I know you two have been butting heads since day one. You haven’t exactly been the nicest to him either. But regardless of your personal feelings, or his, Sam would not betray us. He’s my brother, Hans. He’s family—one of the few I have left alive, same for him. And he understands how important you are to me. That if he ever dared to endanger you, or cause you harm, him being my brother wouldn’t stop me from showing him the consequences.” Henry’s eyes darkened, serious enough that Hans fully believed him despite his anger. “Again, not that he would ever try. Just—if you really can’t trust him, trust me instead? I’ll always protect you—this. Us…”
Hans sighed. The tension in his shoulders lightened. “…Fine. I trust you, of course. And I know you trust him.” Henry smiled, relieved. Though it was petty, Hans couldn’t help but add, “Did you really need to tell him all that, though? Maybe your reputation doesn’t mean as much to you, being a peasant, but I’m a noble, Henry. At least ask me before blabbing—”
“I didn’t tell him anything, Hans!” Henry raised his voice, eyebrows twisting, clearly affronted. “He already knew—he pulled me aside. I would never just—just tell someone, even if I trust them. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
Hans felt the regret sharply, tightening his throat. He’d known Henry would take offense, but he still said it anyway, a habit built over years of cultivated superiority. Before he could take the time to feel remorse, though, he thought over Henry’s explanation, becoming more panicked by the second.
“Wait—he already knew, you say? How?!”
“We, er, didn’t have much time to discuss that part.” Suddenly more bashful, Henry tilted his head, getting imperceptibly closer. “He said he, uh, found out at Suchdol. I think he said it was… ‘bad timing and circumstance.’”
Mouth half-opened for another complaint, Hans quietened, heat rushing to his face. If it was at Suchdol, it had to be during that night. If Sam had gone looking for Henry before they left…
Before Hans could scream into the pillow about it, Henry’s demeanor shifted. He smirked, a gleam coming to his eyes, hesitancy leaving them. “And if my memory serves correctly, you were the loud one that night. I had to cover your mouth—for all the good it did, I guess. So, if you’re looking for someone to blame here…”
Speechless, Hans could only stare at him and feel the blood rushing about his face. Memories came flooding back, vivid from the adrenaline of that night. God, had he really yelled so loudly?
He huffed with anger, eyes darting from Henry to the pillow, debating whether to hit him. Eventually, he opted to grab the pillow and let out an anguished screech into it, curling over himself. Henry let out the laugh he’d been holding back and laid a hand on his head, sounding far too pleased for the situation.
“There, there, darling… It’s alright. No one is to blame, Sam said so himself,” he reassured, though he couldn’t hide the mirth in his voice.
Hans quietened at the words and the large hand caressing his hair, feeling the heat travel further to his neck. ‘Darling’ was new. Hans latched onto every new endearment with a starving hunger—and there seemed to be a new one every conversation, like Henry was testing them out. There wasn’t one yet that didn’t make Hans feel melted from the inside out. Even the ones he never cared for sounded heavenly in Henry’s low, husky voice.
Before too much time could pass, Hans shot up from the pillow, doing his best to send Henry a composed, stern stare. He cleared his throat. “I would normally have you caned for that, but since I made that thoughtless comment earlier, we can be fair about it. No one to blame, like you say.”
Henry smiled crookedly, knowingly. “Right, my lord.”
Maybe his squire had finally mastered the capricious song and dance of his lord’s temperament. Any time they got angry at each other, Henry could now move them through it so effortlessly Hans sometimes felt like he’d been tricked. It was almost annoying how easily Henry could find the right words to bait him, then bring him to heel and make him squirm or repent. Though after everything they’d been through together and how quick of a learner Henry was, it was hardly surprising.
And Hans couldn’t be truly annoyed by it—not when he found himself smiling back at his friend. Henry’s understanding gaze was too charming for him to stay mad. “You know I’m going to avoid him now, right? If you had any nonsensical schemes about getting us to become friends, you can consider them all dashed.”
“Oh, Hans, it’s really not that bad—”
“Don’t give me that! You weren’t the ‘loud one,’ were you?!”
Hans had attempted to avoid Samuel after that, though it proved nigh impossible with how much time Henry wanted to spend around him before he left. By the third day after their talk, Hans was already going back on his plan. He was searching for Henry, having barely seen him since morning, and after spotting him sharing a tankard with Sam, he buried his pride with an annoyed huff. He sat with them, squinting and flaring his nose at every miniscule glance Sam sent his way, until Sam finally got fed up and yelled at him to stop squirming.
It was tense; the longer the week went on without any scandalous questions or comments, the more suspicious Hans grew. He’d expected something—a sly innuendo, a crude joke, maybe even a fist to the face. Yet, Sam acted no differently, at least in no way that Hans could discern. It was maddening. Henry acted like it should reassure him, but it only made him feel more paranoid, like he was missing something. Those phrases and apparent insults Sam spoke in that strange language of his had to be about them, he was certain. He’d interrogated Henry about it one night, asking if he wasn’t sure one of those words translated to ‘sodomite,’ or maybe ‘buggery,’ and Henry guffawed in his face, finding the idea nothing but hilarious for some reason.
Whatever. Hans wasn’t happy about the situation by any means. No matter Sam’s personal feelings, it was a possibly fatal liability to have someone else know about them. Even so, he had to agree with Henry that it could be much worse.
If Samuel proved trustworthy over time and didn’t start spreading rumors at Kolin or wherever he was headed, maybe one day Hans would be grateful. But that was in the future, and today Hans wanted nothing more than for Henry to stop thinking about his brother and start thinking about truly pressing matters, like his lord’s cock hardening against his muscular thigh.
“He’s not leaving that early, is he?” Hans tried his best to sound both seductive and sure of himself, even though he had no idea when Samuel was actually scheduled to depart. “We have time…”
He nuzzled his face into Henry’s neck, then nipped at the outer edge of his ear, barely brushing his tongue against the cartilage. Henry moaned, so soft with sleep that Hans wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t millimeters away. The noble grinned, already feeling victorious, and rocked his hips into Henry’s.
Their cocks brushed, still not fully hard but plenty sensitive, and Henry turned his head to kiss him again. Hans melted into it, gasping as the blacksmith brought his lower lip into his mouth, gently biting it. His hands slid lower across Hans’s back, fingers brushing leisurely over the soft golden hairs, before they grabbed each cheek of his arse with such vulgar force that an undignified whimper escaped Hans’s throat. Henry squeezed, kneading them like he was a voluptuous bathhouse wench and not his noble lord, and Hans would’ve taken offense if it didn’t feel so amazing.
He canted his hips again, pressing harder against Henry, mind running away with fantasies of what they would do together this time—and Henry pressed one more deep kiss into his mouth, one that sent a delightful shock down Hans’s spine, before pulling away.
“I’d love to, Hans, but he’s leaving before midday for sure, so I don’t want to miss him.”
With one last loving pat to his arse, Henry retracted himself from his grip and stood from the bed, groaning a little as he stretched his limbs out. Hans watched him with wide eyes, hands still reaching out limply. He’d been sure he’d won. Henry was almost fully hard, for fuck’s sake, cock bobbing in the air as he moved to his chest of clothes with full intentions to get dressed and—what, let himself soften?
Hans sat up sharply. “B-But…” Already beginning to pull on his braies, Henry turned to him, and Hans scrambled, voice shrill with indignation. “You’re hard!”
Henry looked down, as if just now noticing the massive pole now tenting his linen. “Eh, I’ll think about something unpleasant and splash my face with cold water. That always works.”
What a horrid existence you lead. Hans sputtered, digging his fingers into the sheet as Henry started to pull his hose on. “But I… I wanted to—to take you in my mouth.”
He’d been apprehensive, at first, about having another man’s prick in his mouth. It hardly seemed appropriate for his noble status. But his brain had unhelpfully reminded him that none of this was, and Henry had looked awfully happy the times he’d serviced him that way, sucking enthusiastically and even swallowing his spend, which Hans had blustered in shock at him about. His squire acted like it tasted good, or maybe he just had that devilish of an oral fixation, but either way Hans had quickly been tempted enough to try.
So, he’d first experienced the taste of Henry’s cock five nights ago, and since then he hadn’t gone a day without it. He wasn’t as indulgent as Henry, not as willing to let go of his dignity, so he still hadn’t swallowed, though he hoped soon he’d bring himself to try. Hell, he would do it this very morning, if it’d stop Henry from leaving him.
Henry’s eyes sparkled with glee, giving Hans a sliver of hope, but he then said with a smile, “You’ll have me, my lovely. In a few hours, we can take a little ride through the forest, find a spot good for hunting, and then we can see how much of me you can take this time.”
To his dismay, Hans blushed. Calling him his ‘lovely’ was bad enough, but the subtle dig at how Hans had yet to manage more than a third of Henry’s cock in his mouth before gagging and coughing was almost too much. He’d thought they were the same size—at least, it’d always appeared that way unaroused, not that Hans had been checking and comparing—but his first attempt at sucking Henry had quickly proved him otherwise. It wasn’t his fault that his squire was secretly hung like a stallion, and also refused to tell him how he managed to take Hans so deep without choking—
He stamped out the train of thought before his erection could start leaking all over the bedsheet. “B-But… I’m hard!”
Henry, now putting on his undershirt to cover up that scarred, delicious musculature, tilted his head down to acknowledge his lord’s problem. “Aye, that you are.”
A pleased observation, with no intent behind it. It was practically an act of defiance, so Hans was baffled at how he found it almost charming. The consequences of having this cheeky prick of a squire as his lover, probably.
“And you’re just… just not going to do anything about it?!” Hans whined indignantly, crossing his arms.
Henry started buttoning his gambeson, and any hope of getting him back into bed was thoroughly squashed. He was still looking at Hans, though, with that stupid smile of his.
“I reckon I could help you out before I go, but with how quick I’d have to make it, it’d only bruise your ego again.”
Hans gaped, feeling the heat on his face blazing hotter and trailing to his neck. Since his… admittedly brief first attempt at fucking Henry, his squire had eased it into their natural banter, relishing in having something so scandalous to tease him with. Hans had lasted longer in his following attempts, of course, so the reminder didn’t offend him, but still always brought prickles of lust and shame to the back of his neck. Closing his mouth with a pointed glare, he abruptly turned onto his side, back facing Henry who was now chuckling softly.
“My ego thanks you for your concern, but I daren’t keep you any longer if it’s such important business. Why you’d prefer hanging around that idiotic brute over ravishing your lord is beyond me.”
He’d meant for it to come out glibly, but judging from the sudden silence behind him as Henry stilled, he’d let too much genuine irritation color his tone. A few beats passed, and he heard Henry push out a deliberate sigh, heavy with brewing anger.
When his blacksmith spoke, though, he only sounded weary and sad. “You can’t seriously be upset about this. He’s my brother, Hans.” The words were said with such profound simplicity, Hans knew exactly what Henry meant behind them.
He sighed in return, a defeat. “I know.”
“And, I’m sorry but, it’s not like I’m going to him for the same reason. Ravishing you and spending some time with Sam before he leaves are completely different things, and I don’t know what it means that you’re trying to compare them.”
The bite to his last sentence spurred Hans as he turned back to face his squire again, eyebrows creasing with worry. “That’s…” He didn’t know how to explain that it was about who Henry chose to spend his time with, because the more he tried to put it into words, the worse he was starting to sound.
Henry looked at him, and whatever emotion he saw in his eyes seemed to lower his hackles, his own gaze growing gentler. He approached the bed again, now donning his green, embroidered overcoat that complimented the blue of his eyes so well.
“Later today, I’ll ravish you however long you like. We have time. I only have so long to talk to Sam, though.”
You only have so long with me, before that damned altar chains me away, some dark, pitiful part of Hans thought.
“And me spending time with other people never takes away from what we have, Hans. You know you’re the most important to me. It’s a good thing—I mean, imagine if you had no one to talk to but me. You’d go crazy looking at nothing but my ugly mug all hours of the day, right?” Henry smiled and shrugged jokingly, trying to bring more levity to their suddenly serious conversation.
Even as Hans smiled in return, something inside his head gave pause. “Can’t argue there, you’re already driving me mad as is.”
It was a half-baked lie, because Hans felt mad, no doubt, but he knew he and Henry were innately on opposite sides of this. Because being in a world with nothing but himself and Henry, only Henry, sounded like a bliss only described fairytales. A cold, lonely feeling spread throughout his chest. It suddenly felt like there was a chasm between them, like Hans could never hope to understand what Henry was talking about.
Maybe if I had a brother. Or something like it. He searched his head and came up empty.
While Hans was stuck in his mind, Henry was lacing up his boots. His voice was careful but casual as he next spoke, cutting through Hans’s thoughts.
“Well, since you’re already being driven mad, you’ll probably be relieved to hear that I’m going to Kuttenberg tomorrow. Not for long, just a day, hopefully. I haven’t been since Sigismund left for Hungary, so I need to check on a few situations that have probably changed.”
Whatever loneliness Hans had been feeling quickly evaporated in place of shock. “What? Kuttenberg, tomorrow? Why?”
“I just said, Hans.”
“So, shall I come with you then?” His tone heightened with far too much worry, insistent, but he couldn’t help it, an ugly feeling rising in his chest that made him grip and fiddle with the sheets. Henry was always leaving. The last time he’d left, it’d been at Suchdol. Hans had hoped that their victory would mean the leaving would stop, but of course, how could it be that easy?
Henry sat at the bedside, placing a hand over his and calming his fidgeting. His big blue eyes—and those fucking eyelashes, the pretty bastard—stared at him with such soft understanding, something inside Hans writhed at being perceived for what it really was, pitiful and jealous and embarrassingly dependent.
“I want to go there with you, soon, but I don’t think tomorrow is the best idea. I need to check out the situation in the city first and make sure it’s actually safe for you. They’ve retreated for now, sure, but I can’t risk some stray Praguer recognizing you and taking you hostage.”
Another kidnapping, wouldn’t that be fitting? The reminder that he’s spent so much of the last few months held captive like some damsel made him clench his fists in annoyance. “You’d be with me the whole time though, Henry, surely we can defend ourselves just fine against a few stray soldiers—”
“I don’t know what it would be, Hans, that’s the point. The city is a big place with many eyes, and I don’t want to accidentally lead you into any lion’s den,” Henry valiantly proclaimed with a steady glare. What a knight he is. “Besides, you still have that arrow wound. I know it’s better, but I think a couple more days wouldn’t hurt before any long-distance travel, aye?”
Hans scoffed, instinctively rubbing his shoulder and pridefully not feeling a smidge of pain. “That was barely a wound in the first place; you know it’s long healed. It hasn’t bothered me at all since you worked your magic on it.”
The raised eyebrow in his direction told him Henry didn’t believe him but graciously let it slide. Truthfully, the muscles around the wound still ached when he pulled a bow, but his squire didn’t need to know that.
Henry squeezed overtop his hand, and Hans became incredibly conscious of the fact that he was fully nude while Henry was fully clothed next to him, shoes and all. It should’ve been obscene, but something about the juxtaposition felt deeply intimate.
“So, you’re not mad? You can come with me next time, soon, I promise you.”
The humble question warmed Hans’s heart. He knew he couldn’t push it, despite how sulky the outcome made him feel. “I still think you’re being overly cautious, but I suppose it can’t be helped. No one can say you aren’t taking your job as my bodyguard seriously.”
With his verbal acquiescence, Henry relaxed his posture and smiled in relief. “There’s no job I take more seriously, m’lord.” There was an affectionate undercurrent to his tone, unabashedly crossing the line of a simple page’s devotion to his lord, and Hans felt the heat return to his face against his will. He’d need to get better at controlling his reactions, he mentally noted.
Before he could respond, Henry brought his hand to his cheek and tilted his jaw into a kiss, one that Hans leaned into eagerly, darting his tongue out to lick at his squire’s lips. Henry placated him, sliding their mouths effortlessly together and giving him a couple cheeky licks in return, never pushing his tongue too deep. Before Hans could attempt to drag him back into bed, he retreated, expression all too pleased.
“And tomorrow, I’ll make sure you’re thoroughly satisfied before I go—no brothers will be around to take up my time,” Henry cheekily spoke as he stood up to grab his pouch from the table. It was a light-hearted tease, so Hans tried to ignore the frown fighting to make its way onto his lips.
“I’ll hold you to that, you know,” was all he could offer as he returned to laying on his back, watching Henry get ready to leave. He debated simply following the blacksmith out of the room but quickly banished the thought. Something in Henry’s tone had sounded like he wanted to talk to Samuel alone, and Hans didn’t know if he could handle being rejected from his page’s company for a third time.
Henry stopped at the door, turning to smile at him. He paused, staring, and Hans allowed himself to hope for a second that Henry had noticed whatever lonesomeness was creeping inside him and would return to hold him in his arms.
“Take your time if you need it, my love. I’ll see you downstairs.” The tender tone, frustratingly, made Hans’s heart dance. Henry left, closing the door behind him near silently.
Hans didn’t feel terrible, knowing that conversation could’ve gone much worse, but he couldn’t say he felt good either. “Fucking blacksmith’s boy…” he grumbled quietly, staring at the ceiling in annoyance.
None of his past lovers had ever required such… compromise, maintenance, whatever it could be that was making these uncomfortable feelings bubble up inside him. Then again, as he’d recently learned from being with Henry, his past ‘lovers’ had barely been lovers at all.
He sighed loudly, feeling woefully unprepared for the next few days. He hadn’t been lying; he would hold Henry to his word. He’d just be petulant about it in the meantime.