angst & horniness™️ here

So now, instead of Bernard primarily being mad at them – especially at Hans for having sneaked off – everyone, including Bernard, was praising them to the Heavens and back. Or at least, that was, they were praising one of them.

“Thank you, Henry. You’ve done well to keep the peace,” Bernard said, and were it not for Henry immediately speaking up to give credit to his young lord, too, Hans may have completely missed how the captain had not said a single word of praise to young Capon at all. Since Hans’ mind was rather preoccupied by something else entirely.

“Actually, sir, it was Sir Hans who helped me a great deal. If he hadn’t sneaked off and joined me, I wouldn’t have been able to convince Wolflin to leave peacefully,” Henry said, at which the captain’s eyes immediately widened in surprise, which Hans did find rather rude if he were perfectly honest.

“Oh… I see. Good job, then. Both of you. And especially to you, Lord Capon,” the captain merely said, in a way that seemed like he was nigh stumbling over each and every word, still in a sort of disbelief.

The young lord huffed.

Kurva, was it truly so hard for the man to give him any praise?

He was still happy to receive such words of commendation nonetheless, of course. And in fact, he was actually overcome with joy when he realised that it was his being a nymph that had been the deciding advantage for Henry and him in this matter; opposed to what his nature usually was, which was a handicap.

It wasn’t something that happened all too often – Hans being glad to be a nymph. And perhaps, it was something that had in fact never happened before in his entire life – not till now, at least.

So when the young guard, Hamlyn, approached him in hopes to talk to the young lord alone just as they were about to head off, Hans truthfully had no intention to listen to that man’s pointless chatter, especially after all the things he had already said to sour his mood before. And yet, however, Hans still found himself stuck with the man in a whispered dialogue nonetheless.

“Did you see anything odd about the way Henry spoke to that Wolflin?” Hamlyn asked, looking all too suspicious of his squire as he gleaned back to Henry who was in the midst of mounting his steed, Pebbles.

“What do you mean?” Hans asked, more as a courtesy than it was with any real curiosity, however. And as it turned out, Hamlyn was rather eager to immediately tell him how he thought it would be in his lordship’s best interest to be wary of Henry, for he found it highly alarming how furiously his squire had snapped at him earlier today. That was, for the mere act of badmouthing nymphs, as well as for the fact how adamant Henry had been about parleying with Wolflin and seeing to it that a criminal like him should come out of this alive and unharmed.

“All I’m saying is that you should be careful around him, m’lord. He may very well be a nymph himself, trying to look out for his brethren. You haven’t heard this from me, but there’s this rumour going around – about a man in noble clothes, maybe even a nymph, seducing men in Rattay. And I have the slightest suspicion that your squire might be that nymph and has come from Skalitz to do his bidding here.”

“What?”

Hans’ brows rose much higher and more quickly than he would have perhaps anticipated, and it was needless to say that the young lord, as the nymph that he was himself, and while knowing full well what Henry was and wasn’t, was utterly flabbergasted by that theory. In fact, saying that he was rather irritated by it might have given Hans too little credit. He was tickled by it, really. Amused by how utterly stupid some men could be – but he was irritated by it, too, of course. So he scoffed and rolled his eyes, as though merely out of reflex.

“Oh, go to Hell, Hamlyn…” was all Hans said before he mounted his steed, whereupon the ride back to Rattay went on without any further incident.

Long enough to have seen plenty of what I needed to know…

The answer that had followed was all too cryptic for Hans’ liking, and the way that man had said it with such a sickening grin, too, had managed to make every hair on his body stand on end.

It would’ve been an understatement to say that fear was clouding his judgement around every bend when it came to Wolflin now. And he had ample reason to feel justified in his fear, too.

After all, who knew what a criminal like Wolflin would be willing to do with the knowledge that’s essentially been handed to him now on such an obscene silver platter – the fact that not only was the Lord of Pirkstein a filthy sodomite, but that his squire was the very culprit doing the sodomising upon him?

It was a thought that set boulders the size of Castle Pirkstein itself into his stomach. Let alone the fact that this Wolflin fellow could have easily decided to just slay the two sodomites where they lay, should he have found their vulgar display all too repulsive to let them live after all. And with how defenseless they both were, killing them would have been all too easy, too, if he had only as much as a dagger or knife.

However, in the end, as for the part about Wolflin’s killing them, it fortunately turned out that the man had no intentions of doing so whatsoever, and instead, he seemed to only be interested in commanding both of them to finally put on some clothes, which Hans wasn’t particularly sure of whether or not that was fortunate as well.

“Well, hurry up, you two! I don’t have all day,” the man had said, rather impatiently.

And upon hearing Wolflin’s irritated command, Hans swore he could have been swallowed up by the earth and died of shame right then and there. Because not only was it far too humiliating for him the way he was being commanded in this state of undress, but it was also utterly degrading how Hans was forced to basically have this complete and utter stranger watch him from afar as he… expelled the numerous loads his squire had gushed and spilled deep inside of him, to say the least.

Because Hans was very much aware that, were he to merely put on his clothes without doing so, he would have inevitably sullied his braies sooner or later at another time instead. Because Henry had… Well, he had simply spilled far too much inside of him for Hans to keep all in – it would have been impossible; Hans had been too full.

And so, as if the universe had wanted to humiliate him even further, Hans found himself lying on his back with his knees pulled in when he did what he had to do.

And in fact, he had to close his eyes and desperately pretend not to feel the gazes of both the men’s eyes upon him as he continuously pushed until he finally felt his squire’s thick seed come out of him at last.

He winced and whined whenever an unseemly sound escaped from his arsehole along any spend, felt himself wanting to sink deeper and deeper into the dirt as his face went red with shame, but then, eventually, he felt a hand upon his shoulder, stroking it, and then another one, pressed upon his abdomen, as if to help him push it all out.

“Good job, my love. Steady on. You’re doing so good…”

And yet, whenever his squire did end up looking into his eyes, there was something rather apologetic about how Henry’s eyes widened and his mouth opened out, yet with no words springing forth.

Something was clearly troubling Henry and making him as nervous as it was making him meek all out of the sudden. Something untold – which was waiting to be.

And something that seriously started to cross Hans more and more by the second.

Which is why, eventually, when Hans found himself incapable of ignoring the unspoken tension any longer, he turned around and halted, crossing his arms and blocking his squire’s path for good.

“Alright, Henry – out with it. I can see you’re… ready to burst if you don’t tell me whatever it is right here and now.”

“I—uh… what?” Henry froze in his tracks, as though he had just discovered he was being hunted by a pack of wolves. “What exactly… makes you think I have anything I want to say, hm?” he asked and hummed, which had Hans merely roll his eyes at best.

He scoffed.

“You have one chance to say whatever it is right now. If not, then don’t. But you’ve got to stop acting so strangely. You’re usually not like this – and it’s driving me mad!”

There was a short pause where Hans expected Henry to say something – anything in return – but as the short pause turned into a somewhat medium one, and then finally into a painfully long one, Hans scoffed and rolled his eyes once more.

“Nevermind, then. Let’s just get going,” he grumbled and turned right back around.

But it was at the exact moment when his lordship’s back was turned that Henry got the courage to speak up – at last.

“It’s just that… about the other night,” the young man began, gently and ever so carefully, as though he had needed to ease into whatever he was going to say somehow, which unfortunately made Hans all the more curious to actually hear whatever it was. Hans turned back around to face the man as Henry continued: “Hans, do you… remember anything? About our time at the baths?”

Confused, Hans raised one brow at him. “You mean how I was nearly drowned and you had to save my sorry arse? The very thing that’s got us into this trouble? Yes, Henry, I don’t think you have to remind me again. I may have been drunk out of my bloody mind, but I was still there, too, you know?”

“No, that’s…” Henry fidgeted with his fingers as he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” The man stepped closer all too slowly before he took both of his lord’s hands into his. Without even asking. He just did. And Hans let him. “I meant… after, my lord. Do you remember what happened after?”

After?

Perhaps, Hans thought, there was far too much irritation aimed at the captain in his voice, yet the ghost of the fight between him and his uncle was still heavy on his mind – in a way Hans thought he had barely survived the encounter by the skin of his teeth. It lay heavy on his heart and nerves just as much, as it was quite obvious, but perhaps, that too was something that needed to be remedied.

So Hans drew in a deep breath, and held it in there for a brief while, before he finally let it escape, with his voice intent to be calmer. Gentler. “Listen, Bernard. About this robber… I heard some rumours,” he said, only as loud as he absolutely had to be with the wind blowing against his words.

“About his being a relative of mine, and Milota’s?” Bernard asked.

“Something like that,” he replied, and from behind, he could see the captain’s shoulders shrug.

“We have the same great-grandfather, Urban, Baron of Oleshna. Wolflin belongs to a distant branch of my family, which… Well, let’s just say they bring no honour to our name.”

“But I heard Wolflin of Kamber was hanged somewhere in Silesia after plundering the bishop’s estates?”

“I heard the same,” Bernard agreed. “Only… well, I’m sure you’ve heard what they say about the Kamberg branch of my family?”

“That they’re cursed?” Hans chuckled; he’s always found that rumour rather humorous. “Now, Bernard, don’t you think I’m a little old for fairy tales?”

Bernard let out a puff of air, nigh mimicking the ones his galloping steed had huffed. “Think what you like, but I heard it from my grandfather, and he never paid attention to old wives’ tales,” the man said, somewhat with his own air of irritation now, something Hans certainly had wanted to avoid – another fight.

“I meant no offence, Captain,” he said, and quietly sighed, before he went on: “Tell me all about it, then. After all, there’s no smoke without fire, and I never heard about the Kamber clan from a member of the family.”

“Very well,” Bernard obliged as he spurred his horse. “At home, we always spoke in whispers about our Kamberg relatives. When Wolflin’s father, Wilhelm, came to visit…”—the man cleared his throat in discomfort—“I’m almost ashamed to say it…”

“You can rely on my discretion, Captain. Carry on.”

“Well, the servants were so afraid of him that they went and hid in the barn. Father had them whipped, but even then they wouldn’t go near Wilhelm. They were afraid he’d curse them – and I couldn’t blame them.”

Hans squinted, partially due to the story, but also partially because of the way the sun fell into his eyes as they took around a bend. “Why’s that?”

Bernard cleared his throat once more. “Uncle Wilhelm’s face was so badly disfigured, folk would cross themselves when they saw him. I was afraid of him myself as a boy.”

“Was he wounded in war?”

“No. He was born that way. You see, his mother, Countess Barbora of Hagwitz, didn’t want to marry Wilhelm’s father – my grandfather’s brother. And she never wanted to bear his children. So when she fell pregnant, they say she went to a witch to get rid of the child. Only she ended up having quintuplets!”

“What? All at the same time?”

It was Henry who had suddenly spoken up from behind the two; the young man had rather gasped, but Hans certainly couldn’t say he didn’t share the shock.

“Jesus Christ!” Hans said, shaking his head, and felt his bones chill at the mere thought of having to push out five whole babes.

What a world…