Chapter Text
They had survived. Some just barely, but they had survived. Friedrich could hardly believe it. He had thought that both Ellen and Professor Eberhart von Franz had utterly taken leave of their senses when they began raving about dark magicks and the accursed vampyr. He had half a mind to throw them all out of his home when Thomas returned spouting the same lunacy. That was, until he saw the bite marks.
Yes, it wasn't lunacy at all was it? Just a horrifying, maddening truth that Friedrich had been too blind to even consider. He had Professor Eberhart von Franz to thank for Ellen’s life, and Ellen’s life to thank for the lives of all his loved ones. He wishes that fact didn't chafe him nearly so much as it did.
“Friedrich?”
The sound of Thomas’s voice snaps him out of his stupor. Right, Friedrich was supposed to be bandaging Thomas's physical wounds, not nursing his own emotional ones.
“Sorry, my friend. I am still quite…overwhelmed by all of these…recent events.”
Thomas lets out a weak chuckle.
“You and I both.”
Friedrich returns to his task. He opens the laces on Thomas’s shirt and gently removes it to reveal the full expanse of Thomas's upper body. It's scattered with bandages, damp from sweat and the blood from wounds that had reopened. Friedrich’s hands are less clumsy at unwinding the gauze than they had been at first. Dr. Sievers had showed him the proper method the morning after…after it all ended.
Friedrich is horrified but unsurprised at the thought which crossed his mind as he prepared to redress the wound “Would that it were my teeth that so marked his tender flesh.” As much as he would love to deny it, such thoughts about his dear friend Thomas are no stranger to his mind. They have been friends for countless years, and Friedrich had felt this yearning for nearly all of them.
His dear Anna, God’s greatest gift to him (alongside their children) had not only managed to pry this dark secret from Friedrich’s lips but had accepted it with grace he did not deserve. One night, as he had drunk deep from between her legs, she had even confessed to stealing similar furtive glances and lingering touches from Ellen. If only that accursed Ellen had never –. No, perish the thought. Ellen made Anna happy. Ellen made Thomas happy. Thomas had torn himself away from the grasp of death itself for his love of Ellen. Friedrich probably would have gotten himself killed or worse had he been forced to endure such suffering as the Hutters had weathered.
Besides, he has more important things to focus on – like not getting stiff in his trousers while changing Thomas’s bandages.
“There, old chap. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” Friedrich smiles softly and absentmindedly rubs his thumb across the back of Thomas’s pale hand, resisting the urge to raise it to his lips.
“Tell me, Friedrich? How fairs Ellen? Has she awoken yet?” Friedrich feels his brow twitch at the mention of her name, and a wash of shame soon thereafter. The woman is undeniably their saviour, yet Friedrich still can’t shake this petty jealousy.
“Not as of yet. She lost a lot of blood. Far more than any doctor would dare take for even the worst of all maladies.”
His heart aches as the light dies in Thomas’s eyes.
“Fear not, the rest is doing her good, and – and Anna keeps watch at her bedside as we speak! She says that the blush of life has begun to return to her lips. It should be any day now!”
The smile on his face feels thin and brittle. It probably looks no better. Thomas winces and Friedrich realizes how tight his grasp upon the poor man’s hand has grown. He drops it and folds his hands in his lap instead, ashamed of his lapse in composure.
“I know how happy she makes you, Thomas. I promise I will do everything in my power to ensure that she returns to full health. For both your sakes. Now get some rest…dear friend.” Friedrich slinks out of the room and closes the door softly.
Friedrich’s dreams that night are plagued with images of Thomas, sweet Thomas, debauched by his own hands. He dreams of tearing off the bandages and overwriting the marks with his own teeth. His marks would stand so bright and so red against his awful pallor.
He dreams of finally kissing those lips, those sweet pink lips that never cease to haunt his mind. Would they be cool upon his own, as fragile and weak as Thomas now seemed? Or would they be searing hot with passion, tongues clashing as they gave in to the tension that had simmered over many years? Or would –
He awakens with a jolt, finding himself rutting against the empty bed. Anna must have fallen asleep in Ellen’s room. It seems this “rutting goat” must deal with his problem alone tonight. Friedrich frees his cock, spits in his hand, and closes his eyes once more.
Now where was he? Ah yes, shoving his tongue down Thomas’s throat. What else could Thomas’s throat take? Those plush lips surely had more than one way to drive Friedrich mad.
He takes his aching length in hand.
Maybe Thomas would struggle with the foreign stretch of his jaw. Shyly licking at and sucking the tip as he tries to best figure out how to please Friedrich.
Friedrich teases the tip of his cock with his thumb before starting a slow rhythm.
Thomas would figure it out though. Maybe Anna could show him. Oh, wouldn’t that be a sight? Both of them laving over Friedrich’s cock like an obscene lolly. Anna fingering her cunt as Friedrich swallowed the moans from her lips and Thomas slobbered all over his cock.
His pace quickens.
Would Thomas crave more? Want Friedrich to grip those dark curls and fuck his throat proper? God, how he wishes he could. What if that still wasn’t enough? What if Thomas was just as greedy as him? Friedrich had heard, had read (though he would sooner dig his own grave and hop into it than admit it) accounts of the way men might take one another. Would Thomas prepare himself as he took Friedrich down his throat, or would he, once again, turn to Friedrich for help?
He tightens his grip. His pace blisteringly fast as he nears his peak.
Oh, that he might slide into that tight, wet heat. Thrusting to his heart’s content within the man that plagued his thoughts so. Tearing the moans from his throat rather than simply imagining it was his doing, as he had when Thomas took Ellen in the parlour the night before he left for that accursed castle. (They had tried to be subtle, keeping things to heavy petting, judging by the lack of creaking from furniture or floorboards. However, the moans leaking upstairs through the pipes told of hidden passion.) The way Thomas would scream like never before as Friedrich pounded into him, and Ellen –
Friedrich came with a grunt.
Ellen? Now that was new.