Chapter Text
The packed dirt of the road was beginning to wear on the soles of Henry's feet as he thudded along in a heavy jog, only barely protected by the worn leather boots he had on. Surely, if running from Skalitz hadn't done them in yet, it would be this fucking hunting trip with Lord fucking Capon that was going to split open the side seam that his ma had so carefully stitched up just—fuck, weeks ago now, since apparently he'd lost so much time laying unconscious at Tess's new place. His head swam from the sun beating down on it, and he tried to keep the burn in his lungs from getting too bad. At least the ugly yellow bruise on his side had mostly faded away and no longer ached as a result.
Lord fucking Capon rode ahead of him on his fucking noble steed, and the worst part of it was that he kept seeming to speed up ahead of Henry, while also shouting out the most obnoxious questions as if Henry was expected to answer them while his lungs were literally crawling up his throat.
"And I heard that Sigismund had a hundred banners there!" Capon yelled into the wind, continuing his infuriating nonstop pressing about Skalitz, which he seemed to think was some glorious battle and not the soulless massacre that it truly was.
"Could you slow down just a tad? I can hardly keep up," Henry said instead of snapping at him, then belatedly added, "sir."
"The dogs can manage this pace just fine, and I'd like not to waste the sunlight. So, tell me then…"
The dogs have more legs than I do! Henry furiously glared at the back of the nobleman's head, then forced himself to calm down and get some more air into his lungs. Capon's two dogs were very easily bounding alongside his horse—and though Henry had always loved dogs, he couldn't help but hate these ones just a little bit for their purebred form and well-groomed coats.
When they reached Capon's campsite, Henry was relieved to learn that the nobleman didn't expect them to go hunting right that day, because he was still struggling to breathe a little. Instead, Capon pulled out some wine—actually, he ordered Henry to pull the wine out from his saddlebags—and was gracious enough to toss a flask to Henry in return, which he drank from thankfully as he slumped back against a log seat.
There had not been many opportunities for Henry to interact with nobility while growing up in Skalitz. There was Lord Radzig, of course, who sometimes stopped by his pa's forge to check on noble business; and occasionally other noblemen visiting Skalitz would stop by as well, but that was the extent of it.
There had not been many opportunities for Henry to interact with nobility before, and he was hating interacting with Lord Capon.
Sure, as they sat around the fire drinking wine, Capon seemed to warm up to him a bit, allowing Henry to try to make conversation by asking what it was he did around Rattay exactly—not much, apparently—or about their hunt tomorrow, but he also had the annoying habit of interspersing his dialogue with off-the-cuff phrases like a peasant like you or watch what you say to a nobleman, and every time it happened, Henry found himself gritting his teeth. He cursed himself for getting involved in noble business at the tavern last night. He'd rather the bailiff chew him out than have to act as this blond arsehole's dog for another day.
Then, when he did think that maybe the evening wasn't going so poorly and that Lord Capon just wanted to have Henry as his drinking buddy for a time, the lordling started in on his infuriating questions again, and Henry had had it.
"If I wanted someone just to fetch my game, a dog would do just as well. It's an escort's duty to be entertaining, so, talk," Capon was saying, every word of his curling at the end like he couldn't stop smirking for one single minute.
"As I keep saying, sir, I'd really rather not talk about Skalitz," Henry said through a clenched jaw, trying to keep his head straight. He really should be more deferential, but it was so difficult when Capon didn't seem to deserve an ounce of respect for anything other than the noble behind he'd been born with.
"Ahh, don't be like that, Hal. Surely there's something you can tell me. I've already heard all the boring stuff from everyone else, so—"
Of everything so far, it was the way the lordling said Hal that made Henry snap.
"And what is it that you want to hear, then?" he angrily started, shooting to his feet and grabbing Capon by the scarf before he could think better of it. "That Sigismund himself flew down on a dragon to raze the village? That all the Cumans have horns and hooves like demons do? Well it's not a fucking fairytale to me, sir—" and that was as far as he got before he realized that he was holding onto Lord Capon, and Lord Hanush would surely have his hide for this, and worst of all, that Capon was grinning—
"Why, why, putting your hands on a nobleman, Hal?" drawled Capon, the bob of his throat brushing Henry's knuckles. "Good. As far as I'm concerned, our little fight at the tavern isn't finished yet—" and then he surged up in one swift movement, shoving Henry hard in the chest and making them both stumble.
Henry saw red, and all the coiling rage from that day and the day before and all the days before that since he saw Markvart von Aulitz ride through the gates of Skalitz came out in one loud roar, and suddenly his fingers were digging hard into Capon's shoulders, trying to shove him back and over the log bench—
His jaw caught a hard blow, and Capon was shouting, "Hit me like you fucking mean it, peasant!" so Henry swung in return and felt his knuckles connect with the soft flesh that warped over the bridge of Capon's nose, and his head snapped back before it swung forward again and cracked Henry on the temple, and then they were grappling with each other trying to send each other into the dirt, and Henry's head was pounding and his jaw was throbbing and all of the anger and hurt in him was coming out in the thud of his fists into Capon's perfect noble flesh.
"You fucking—stuck-up, sheltered, smug pissant!" Henry yelled, and he had to turn and spit into the dirt because he'd caught a fist to his stomach and it sent the taste of bile into his mouth, and the saliva on his tongue and wine fumes in his nose were making it hard to think straight—
"Good!" Capon yelled, grinning meanly, one hand now trying to squeeze at the underside of Henry's throat. "Let it all out, Henry of Skalitz!" and it was the fact that he didn't even seem to be angry that had Henry fuming and trying to throttle him in return, blinking the dizziness out of his head as he pushed Capon heavily back and over the log, the back of the man's skull smacking into the worn bark. Under the clench of his hands, Capon sneered up at him with blood in his teeth, and then—
—then licked his bottom lip, which had begun to bleed, and said, "I knew it," instead of fighting back.
Henry's stomach dropped and he staggered back, wondering what the fuck he was doing—then he nearly heaved, because he'd seen what he couldn't see before at their close proximity—that Capon was hard.
"What the fuck is this!?" Henry spat, then jerked away from the nobleman's raised hand, his skin crawling. "So you're a sodomite, is that it? Getting off on putting your hands all over me?"
Capon heaved for air where he was slumped against the log bench, smug grin nearly dropping from exertion as he said, "Call me a sodomite if you must, but I'm not the only one here who's got a tent," and then, with his heart falling, Henry glanced down against his will to see the blatant sign of his shameful arousal tenting his braies, so much more obvious than the one under Capon's own noble codpiece—
Then Capon's head slammed into his stomach and they went falling down together, Henry meeting the packed dirt with his spine.
"Where do you want me to hit you next, huh?" he was yelling, fist held up above Henry. "Jaw? Gut? I could give you a black eye if you like, you'll feel it stinging for the next week!" He shook Henry by the collar as he spoke.
"Get the fuck off me!" Henry roared, managing to knee him close to his crotch. It only made Capon groan heavily and pant around his grinning teeth, as if it was all a game to him. He smashed an elbow into Henry's collarbone, and Henry caught his limb, shoving the man over onto the ground and holding him down with a forearm.
"You don't want to talk about it, you don't have to talk," Capon said, ribs heaving under Henry's arm. "There are other ways to let it out," and then in a move that Henry had never had to watch out for in all his years of brawling at the Skalitz tavern, Capon rolled his hips up and horrifyingly, it felt good.
His head swam. "Is this what you do?" Henry hissed down at the bloodied man under him, saliva choking in his throat. "Take men out here in the woods to rape them? You're fucking sick!" Disgusted, he spat onto the flushed scrape over Capon's nose and then reeled when the man only laughed loudly and writhed under him, as if the saliva stinging his face felt better than any whore's gentle touch.
"I'll remind you that Hanush is the one who put you in my presence today! But no, every man I've had before wanted it, I'll have you know! Even if some of them were just as loath to admit it as you are." At the weakness in Henry's grip following the words, Capon surged upwards and flipped them both over, shoving Henry's skull back into the dirt as he threatened, "Usually, the ones who don't want it would have walked away by now, Henry."
Henry struggled under his heavy weight, bile rising to his mouth again as he realized, fuck, he really didn't want it to stop. "You're not fucking me," he spat, trying and failing to knee Capon in the nuts.
Capon cackled above him. "Now, who said anything about that? But it's nice to know you're imagining it already." Then, instead of punching Henry in the face again, he did another thing that Henry had never had to watch out for in any tavern brawls, and that was that he rolled to the side and pulled Henry on top of him, their hips once again connecting and sparking pleasure that was intensified by the throbbing in his head and gut.
"If you don't want to yet," Capon said, teeth bared, dark eyes close, "you can punch me until you do. Call me a sodomite again if it makes you feel any better, it only makes it all the sweeter when you finally decide to sink your cock into me."
Henry shoved his palm into Capon's jaw, hard enough for his head to snap to the side, and felt a grin curl under it in return. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he gasped. Never in his life had he seen someone so happy to get pressed into the dirt.
"A great many things, Henry of Skalitz!" Capon laughed under him, the wet points of his teeth digging into Henry's palm. Then he groaned and rolled his body again, reminding Henry of the fact that they were pressed together all the way from chest to crotch to knee, and Henry had never been so close to anyone before. Capon licked his bloody lip and caught the web of Henry's fingers in the movement. "So are you going to fuck me now, or what? Want to put another bruise on my face first? I can see you'd love to. I don't do kisses and flowers, so this is the best you're getting—"
Henry slammed Capon's head back again, answered by a moan that shook with elation. "Fuck. Fuck! Jesus Christ—" and then he sat back and crossed himself before roughly shoving down the hem of his braies, exposing the rigid proof of his lust to the world. Immediately, Capon pulled his legs out from under Henry and shoved his own clothes down, the bunch of his joined hose holding his thighs tight together as he drew his knees up, baring his pale, hairy, muscled, male arse to Henry to take.
At this position, the bunch of his hose hid his cock from Henry's view, which should have made it easier but didn't. Henry was throbbing hard as he took himself in hand, and he nearly felt as if he should cross himself again, but didn't want to involve God any further in what he was about to do.
Which was to fuck Lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein in the arse.
Henry spat in his palm and rubbed it over his prick before he could think to do anything saner like walk away. He needed this. He needed to fuck the smile off this stupid smug nobleman and teach him a lesson for all the hurt that he would never understand, living up in his second castle while everyone Henry knew starved in the dry moat. He needed to find some release for this godawful ball of violence that had been eating up at him ever since he witnessed his mother and father cut down in front of him. He needed to feel someone against him, anyone, fuck, he needed—
His cockhead slipped when he leant over and tried to push it in, despite the spit he'd rubbed into it knowing that Capon wasn't wet like a woman.
Capon, infuriatingly, laughed up at him again. "Not very experienced, are you?" he said, then spat into his own hand, reaching downwards.
"Piss off," Henry growled, heat rushing to his face. It wasn't his fault that Bianca had wanted to wait until—then he bit down on the tears that sprung up at the memory of Bianca's lifeless body, and resolved not to think about her again while Capon was in front of him.
It was easier than he thought, because right away Capon was sticking his fingers right into his arsehole, and Henry's eyes grew wide at the filthy sight. Two spit-slicked fingers dug into the hole in the middle of his dirty-blond nest of curls, and dizzily Henry wondered if everyone was pink right there, or if it was because Capon was a nobleman—
"There," Capon muttered, pulling his hand away, "make it hurt."
Henry leant back over him and shoved his legs to one side, chest pressing into the underside of his thighs as he tried to push in, again and again. Capon was ridiculously tight, and his prick kept slipping aside as he glared into that cocky smile and tried to do it all by feel alone, the awful position making it impossible to put his cock in without leaning over Capon's body. Then, when he could feel his cock press into the hole, he saw Capon bite the split on his bottom lip and impossibly, seemed to open up to let Henry sink in—
And they were both groaning, Henry from the sheer tightness and heat of it all. He immediately shoved himself as deep as he possibly could, nearly whiting out from the inexplicable strangling tightness that seemed as if it were trying to push him back out again, and Capon responded with a hedonistic groan that bordered on a cry, bent nearly in half to receive Henry's cock. It was terrifying, and all of a sudden Henry realized that he had this nobleman wrapped around the end of his cock, pushed into the dirt so hard his straw gold hair scattered into disarray, groaning and face flushing an ugly blotchy pink that lit up the bloody red of the cuts Henry had punched into him, and it felt so good, finally being in control of something for once.
"I knew it," Capon gasped as Henry started to fuck into him with desperate, imperfect thrusts. "I knew it as soon as you laid hands on me at the tavern. You and I, we're the same breed. You crave this."
Henry snarled and gripped his legs tighter. "We're nothing alike."
"No. You're right," Capon said, and laughed once, bright and deadly. "After all, you're a peasant."
"You know nothing about me!" Henry bit out, shutting his eyes and driving harder into the heat around his cock. His hips slapped into the muscle of Capon's arse with every thrust, and though he'd never had sex before, he was sure that it wasn't supposed to feel so dry, even his own hand slicked by spit having more glide than this. But he couldn't stop going, knowing that he was fucked as soon as he pulled out, because then he was going to be the peasant who had fucked Lord Hans Capon, and who knew what would happen then.
"That's it," soothed Capon, arcing and groaning under him, voice twisting between the dull slap of skin-on-skin. "Let it all out. Feels so fucking good, doesn't it, my noble arse? You'd better savour it while you can, because you're never going to fuck a noble again in your life, you village sheepfucker. Oh, fuck," and then he laughed, "ohh, you know, most men don't want to face me when they do this, but I'm quite enjoying this view. Your face looks wild when you're furious—"
"Would you shut the fuck up!" Henry yelled.
"Make me!" Capon yelled back, and then moaned loudly when Henry shoved his other hand back into his jaw and dug his fingers into that maddening, grinning mouth. Sharp teeth clamped down on him and Henry squeezed, forcing Capon's head aside, the lordling's eyes rolling back in pleasure.
What a sick freak, Henry thought, unable to do anything other than keep chasing his awful, base pleasure, the fire of lust in his groin building around the burn from the bruise in his side and the pounding in his temple where Capon had smacked him and the pain of the hard dirt on his kneecaps. Sweat dripped down from him and hit Capon's blotchy pink skin, sinking into a scrape that was there and undoubtedly stinging it. Everything felt so painful and so good and for a moment Henry forgot about everything else in his sorry life except for the privileged, conceited, sheltered, smug arsehole he was fucking into—
With all the force of being shoved bodily into dirt, Henry's release slammed through him all at once, and he caught himself on a throaty gasp, nearly falling onto Capon with how suddenly it hit him. Wave after wave surged through his groin and had all his muscles shaking, and with some effort, he pulled out at the end and grabbed himself with the hand that had been holding Capon's mouth shut, feeling how hot his cock was from the warmth of Capon's body, and he spilt his last ropes of seed over the muscle of Capon's arse, a drop catching on his fine noble hose.
Then Henry fell back on his knees, cock in hand, staring at his seed marring Lord Capon's skin, and thought, horrified,
What the fuck have I just done?
"Christ," Capon groaned, joined legs falling down, "it was just starting to get good. I have half a mind to make you take my cock in your mouth now," and normally a statement like that would have had Henry scrambling up and away on hands and knees, but he could only gape helplessly as Capon started stroking off his—frankly, sizeable—cock, otherwise laying completely boneless in the dirt like there was nothing at all wrong about what they had just done.
"That wasn't so bad, Hal," Capon kept saying as his fingers worked, "mmm, I'm going to be feeling that one for a week at least. Ah, when I squeeze down," and there his legs twitched, like he was chasing a phantom pleasure, "yes, that feels so nice…I'm glad you came out here with me, it's so much better when they're angry…" and then he shuddered and started spilling into his hand, words lost under a blanket of whimpers and low moans.
Henry realized his prick was still hanging out, and he hurriedly shoved it away and tied his braies up, getting to his feet as Capon finished.
"Do you think—Is this a fucking game to you, Capon!?" Henry shouted, anger returning again through the haze of his release as he watched the man stand and stagger over to grab a water flask without even rucking up his braies. "Pulling me out here and getting me angry so I fuck you better? I lost my whole fucking life that day, you cunt! My own mother—" He choked on his words, unable to even describe the memory that haunted every restless night of his.
Capon's eyes widened into blue discs and Henry turned, unable to look at the man any longer. He marched to the edge of the camp—then saw that the entire forest was now blanketed in night, and that he'd have to light a torch on the firepit to even get anywhere. He turned and kept his head down as he marched over to the fire, then stopped. There was no point in going anywhere. Lord Hanush would have his hide if he returned to Rattay without Lord Capon, and—fuck. He scrubbed at his eyes.
A splash of water told him that Capon was washing up and he looked up, the nobleman looking much more subdued than he had been moments earlier as he sat on the log bench, wiping the dirt off his face and hair. Not even his grin was there anymore.
"You can stop at the church tomorrow after we return," he said, still rinsing the grime off his skin. "It's on the southern side, if you hadn't seen it already. Pray for forgiveness and it'll be heard." In response to Henry's look, he said, "That's what you want, isn't it? Pray and you can move on with your life. Forget about it."
"Is that what you do?" Henry asked, thick and low, standing on the other side of the fire. "You do this and then you—you just pray? It's over?"
"No point to it for me. Too much to ask to forgive, nowadays," Capon said, then pushed his hose down further so he could get under his arse better, wiping at the filth Henry had left on his skin. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, digging back into his hole to clean there, "look your fill. Sir Hans Capon is a bloody sodomite, I know already."
A sodomite, and an unrepentant sinner. Henry's head swam with guilt and the embers of his dying rage.
Capon continued wiping himself, saying, "I've done it all before, I know how this goes. No, I'm not going to tell anyone. You can happily return to chasing village girls and bath wenches as you please. If you want money to shut your mouth, I'll give you money, but don't think I'm an easy mark, I'm still the lord of this town." Then he tossed the water to Henry, who caught it.
"I don't want your money," Henry muttered, then took a drink of the water before tossing it aside. He was already well used to the level of grime that sat on him these days. Deserved it, probably.
There were old bedrolls already spread out in the camp, and Henry chose one of them to claim, knowing Capon only had one clean one tied to his horse. He picked up the old straw mat and dusted off the worst of the bits of pebbles and leaves that had blown there, then lay down on it without even another word, resolutely turning away from the fire as he pillowed his head on his arms.
For one moment, Henry had felt so good, and now…
Now, he just felt sad.
Henry squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the quiet sounds of the man he'd fucked getting ready to sleep. He only felt hollow and sad. He hadn't had time to feel any sadness since he ran from Skalitz that night. Only vile fear and a deep, wretched, anger churning within him.
There was no anger to hold onto anymore.
Now that all energy had abandoned him, Henry could feel the world seep in around him. The night was cold, still carrying the chill of the spring wind that had brought rain to Skalitz a few weeks before. It whistled through the branches overhead. The straw bed smelled of must and evening damp, and the fire was dying down behind him, popping occasionally as it was tended to by a careful hand. His left foot was cold where the seam on the side of his boot had popped open again during the fight—and he said a silent prayer for forgiveness, for his mother's precious handiwork that he'd so readily ruined in his mindless lust.
Henry did not shed a tear that night, but he came close.
The next morning, Henry trudged behind Capon while the lordling hunted for rabbits, wallowing in the thick fog of his sadness. There was no point to anything anymore. His home was gone, his parents were gone, his sweetheart was gone, and on top of that he was a sodomite now, having so readily fucked a man as soon as the offer was made.
Capon kept poking him with commentary and little jokes, obviously designed to get Henry bickering back at him, but Henry couldn't muster up a single flash of anger anymore. He'd spent it all in Capon's flesh the night before. At the very least, the man hadn't mentioned Skalitz once since they woke up. It was a gesture that could have been called nice, if Henry hadn't known truly nice people before.
He didn't even feel anger towards Capon anymore. He just felt sadness. What a sad sack of shit, goading men into hitting him because it was the only way he could feel pleasure. Paying them off afterward to keep their mouths shut about what the Lord of Pirkstein gets up to after dark. What an awful life to live.
Almost nearly as awful as Henry's.
And so, it was in this fog of sadness and pity that Henry was wandering before he looked up and realized all at once that he hadn't seen Capon's sharp features nor heard Capon's bright chatter in quite some time. His hunting dogs were nowhere to be seen as well—they'd been trotting ahead in the woods the entire time, but now they were completely gone, not even a flash of pointy tail nor ear in the distance, and the horse that Capon had been leading along to carry any prey they caught was missing, the bright yellow caparison impossible to miss if it were present.
Kurva. Instinctively, Henry checked his weapons—the shortsword he'd been given by Captain Bernard, and the long dagger he'd taken off a bandit's corpse—and then scanned the trees for any sign of life at all. When the hell had Capon disappeared? Had he really been so lost in his mind that he'd completely missed his absence?
Henry first wandered back to the camp to check if he'd simply returned, and, when he found nothing, started pacing the woods in large circles, getting more worried as the sun kept moving overhead. Their items were still back at the camp so Capon couldn't have left for Rattay yet, but it seemed as though the lord was nowhere in the forest at all. He was brash and cocky, Henry could tell that immediately after meeting him, and the region was full of bandits, what if he'd been ambushed by them, or fallen into the river and had his brains dashed out, now that would certainly get Lord Hanush to see Henry to the executioner—
The distant call of that sharp, self-important voice had Henry blinking, wondering if he'd imagined it out of hope—but no, it really was there, and as Henry snuck closer in the direction of the noise he could hear Capon throwing out insults to someone unseen, going,
"...and your sisters, your sisters have bigger cocks than you! And they fuck men with them, you, you pissants! Right in the arse! Hah! I bet your mom fucked your dad's arse as well, that's why you turned out so ugly! Snout like a pig, you've got!"
Henry's face scrunched up in confusion, ignoring the rest of Capon's dialogue as he slowly circled around to the other side of the camp, getting his bearings. It was a camp, there were peaks of tents in the clearing, and Capon seemed to be tied to a tree at the edge opposite the tents, and Henry could count one, two, no, three men there, all of them wearing the wretched skull-like helmets of Cumans.
One of them was sleeping, thank God—Henry knew from experience that there was no way he could take on more than one man at a time, and so he snuck up around the side of the tent and slit the sleeping man's throat without a second thought, his razor-sharp dagger sliding in with only enough force needed to turn his knuckles white.
Capon's shouts suddenly got louder and more impassioned, so Henry knew that he'd been seen, and that the man also wasn't a complete idiot, because he was doing his best to hold the attention of the other two Cumans as Henry snuck up on silent feet behind the one sitting by the mealpot.
Only, this one made a noise as Henry sunk his dagger into its throat, and then the third Cuman was turning with his sword raised, and Henry cursed, throwing his dagger down before drawing his sword as quickly as he could.
He hardly had any armour on except the ratty gambeson and padded hose he'd been provided, and he had to face off against this Cuman with its shiny helmet and thick coat. At the very least Henry was thankful that these Cumans seemed to be taking a load off, because this one didn't have any plate armour on at all, and Henry was no match for someone in full plate—fuck, he still sucked at swordfighting, but there was only one way to get him and Lord Capon out of this alive.
He met the Cuman's swing with a roar, trying to goad the man around into tripping on something, while watching his own feet. Capon kept yelling out nonsensical insults, as if he could distract a Cuman that didn't speak Czech at all—if anything it was distracting Henry, since he kept hearing flashes of phrases like Show me your tits! and Your father's arse—but Henry kept fighting, managing to catch the Cuman across the chest with a wild swing.
Carefully, Henry kept forcing the Cuman backwards around the firepit—and then with a well-timed blow, baited the man into taking a bad step and tripping over its own brother's corpse, immediately pushed over onto the ground by the shove of Henry's sword, and the Cuman raised its hands in a plea, blabbering out gibberish words—
Henry drove his blade into the Cuman's chest with relish, feeling his anger flicker back to life.
"Henry!" Capon shouted, relief in his voice. "You came for me! Oh mercy, am I glad to see you…"
"Did I come for you?" Henry asked, picking through the camp for any valuables. He retrieved his dagger and wiped it uncaringly on one of the Cuman's red coats, only adding to the colour. There was a ring which he pocketed, and some coin, and a fresh apple too, which he took a bite of as he walked back over to Lord Capon, stopping in front of him as he chewed contemplatively.
"What?" Capon said, desperation tugging at his ever-present grin. "Of course you have, come on now, cut me loose and let's get out of here!"
"I don't know, I'm rather enjoying this right now, sir." Henry took another bite of his apple, smiling as he watched Capon squirm against his binds. He simply did not care anymore what power Lord Capon supposedly had over him as a nobleman. He'd fucked Capon in the arse last night, and that would be something he'd never forget.
"Hal…" groaned Capon, as if he had any right to call Henry with such familiarity. "Look, Hal, I'm really…I'm really sorry about pushing you into a fight yesterday, and I'm really sorry about your mother and father, please believe me, I always run my tongue when I start to get drunk, it's such a bad habit of mine…"
Henry kept chewing on his borrowed apple, grinning at the sight of Lord Capon reduced near to begging. The Cumans had roughed him up quite a lot, enough so that the bruises and scrapes he'd marked Capon with last night were unidentifiable in between everything else, and his straw-gold hair was matted with blood in a spot. His arms were held back behind him, curved unpleasantly around the tree trunk where his wrists were bound tightly together.
"You're only saying sorry because you're tied to a tree, my lord," Henry pointed out.
"No, no, I've been trying to find a good moment all morning, I swear, but you'd been moping the whole time so…" Capon sucked a breath in, then said, "Look, I know I hurt you last night, so, what do you want? Money? A spot in the town guard? I normally don't do men twice, but I'll even let you fuck me again if that's what you want," and at that he wiggled his hips a little, which made Henry grimace.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Henry said, taking one last crisp bite of apple before tossing it aside and stepping forward. He did want to fuck. Since he'd done it once already, he might as well have his fun with Capon now that he'd hit rock bottom.
Capon groaned like a whore and rubbed himself back against the tree, a revolting movement that while might have looked attractive on a woman, only reminded Henry of how desperate the man was to taste pain.
"Think about it, Henry…I'm tied up here, completely at your mercy. You could do anything to me right now, anything…and I'd have to take it from you…" Capon's pink mouth was panting open from the force of his twisted lust, the split on his bottom lip that Henry'd punched into it the night before now a red line, and his blue eyes rolled up as Henry stepped even closer, white pointy teeth biting down into a grin…
"Anything, my lord?" asked Henry, drawing his sharp dagger from his belt slowly and watching Capon's eyes widen. "Even…walk away and leave you here for the next group of bandits to find?" He took a step back.
"Ugh, Hal, come on, just fuck me again. I'll admit it, alright? It was damn arousing watching you slaughter those men without an ounce of remorse in your eyes. Look," and here Capon bit his lip in a grin, thrusting his groin out, "I'm already aching hard and I haven't even been touched yet."
"For all I know, you'd probably nearly creamed yourself when those Cumans beat you bloody," Henry sneered, holding the tip of his dagger to Capon's chin just to see what he'd do. "You're disgusting."
"Yes, yes, I'm disgusting," Capon pleaded, throat bobbing as his jaw was guided further and further up on the point of the dagger. He was twitching and whimpering, as if he really could get off on the thought of dying alone, and against himself, Henry began to scratch a thin, pink line right into the patchy stubble at the edge of his jaw, watching every muscle in Capon's face flutter in ecstasy as a deep, desperate moan crawled up his throat.
"Are you always like this?" Henry muttered in awe, the pink line he'd scratched not even standing out amongst the other injuries already marring Capon's skin.
"Yeah," Capon breathed, then laughed once, "yeah."
Henry tossed his dagger down to the dirt and grabbed Capon in both hands, twisting him roughly into a kiss as he pressed his body all along the noble's front. Capon fought him, trying to escape the hold but Henry kept licking into his hot mouth, chasing after those sharp teeth.
"Get—urgh, off me you brute—" Capon was trying to say, muffled in the embrace of Henry's mouth. Henry bit down punishingly on the iron-tinged split in his lip and every protest of his curled into a deep groan, which reverberated through Henry's chest where he was pressed up against the nobleman.
Henry grabbed the back of Capon's head by his shiny hair and held him in place, pressing his nose hard into beaten flesh as he disconnected their lips for a moment to say, "You said I could do anything, sir," before claiming him again, swallowing every gasp forced out of Capon.
"You—" Capon fought for space, while simultaneously licking back into Henry's mouth and rubbing his front all along him. "Fucking—punch me again—" he begged, breathless.
"Nope, not doing that," Henry responded with relish, smiling into bared teeth, and rolled his hips into Capon's, where their erections were aching to meet through their clothes. "But aye, I'll fuck you, since you're so damn needy for it."
He released Capon's head and pulled back just enough to shove down both their braies—Capon's being harder, his joined hose tight his waist—and then he spat in his hand, pulling Capon's hips against him so he could reach behind, searching for the knot of his arsehole. It gave when he dug a finger in, and Capon laughed wildly and bucked into him, clenching down around Henry's finger with a dizzying heat. Henry dove back in for another kiss and this time Capon responded well, groaning into his mouth as he took a second one of Henry's fingers in him, and distantly Henry thought to remember that he should have asked if there were any other Cumans lingering around, but really, if Capon didn't mention it then it would be his fault if they got stabbed from behind while fucking…
Henry pulled back and tried to shove one of Capon's thighs up as best he could, waist of his hose stretching in protest.
"You are ruining my good hose," Capon complained, though he jutted his arse forward still. He wasn't bound tightly enough to the tree for it to support his whole weight, so one leg had to remain planted on the ground.
"You're the one who chose to wear them knowing you were going to get fucked!"
"I told you, I wasn't expecting to get fucked, it was simply a nice surprise…"
Henry finally managed to push his cock in despite the awkward angle and he hitched Capon's hips up, bracing one hand on the tree to get good leverage. Capon hissed in pleasure and sucked in saliva between his teeth, groaning, "Ah, stings so fucking good—" Henry would have kissed him to shut him up again, but it was all he could do not to drop him, so instead he drove in as hard as he could, snapping his hips into that tight heat.
It was so difficult to keep Capon's thigh forced up considering the man was more interested in writhing and fighting against him like he wanted Henry to hit him again, and Henry could only manage a shallow thrust given the bunch of Capon's hose in between his thighs, and any second now he was afraid his cock would go slipping out and scrape against the tree bark instead—
"This angle fucking sucks!" Henry yelled, still futilely trying to fuck into Capon as well as he could while trying not to stumble over from their combined weights.
Capon, who didn't have to care about things such as holding up another grown man, wriggled wildly and shouted back, "So fucking cut me free already then!" and Henry pulled out of him, grabbing his dagger from the dirt and ducking behind the tree so he could slice through the ropes holding Capon's wrists tight together. As soon as he was free, Capon pulled his arms back around himself, groaning as he stretched them out—and then dropped down to the dirt on all fours, turning to look at Henry through the mess of his bangs. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
Henry threw his arms up, wondering if Lord Capon ever had normal sex. Then he threw his dagger aside again and dropped down to fuck into Capon's arse—this time getting a very nice view of his hole stretching around Henry's reddened cock as he pushed inward, the length disappearing entirely—remembering to spit into his palm again to smear around his prick on a pull out, because it was still annoyingly dry.
Capon was moaning under him, stripping his cock in one hand as he bit his other forearm, teeth sinking into the expensive gold fabric of his gambeson. His thighs were now pushed together between Henry's knees and he used the new leverage to grip Capon's hips under the ruck of his gambeson, driving punishingly into that incredible, tight, squeezing, heat—
On a buck of Capon's hips, Henry grabbed him by the hair again, shoving his face down and hearing the loud, ecstatic groan he let out as his mouth parted on packed dirt, a low noise that wavered with every brutal snap as Henry fucked into him. He felt like an animal, bent over Lord Capon like this, both of them bare-arsed to the world, knees rubbing into forest floor. Henry shoved his other arm around Capon's waist to hold him in place as he pounded away. It was frightening, how natural the act of fucking felt, and that it was a man trapped under him, which Henry was reminded of every time Capon groaned deep in his chest or bucked up against him, chasing his own pleasure on the spear of Henry's cock.
This time, Capon spent first, and Henry was relieved to feel him go boneless because it meant he could give in to his spooling release with a couple more sharp, deep thrusts, finally surrendering to the clenching of Capon's heat around him.
They sank to the ground together, Henry wrapped around Capon's back, until he remembered who exactly he was touching and scrambled off, shoving his prick back into his rumpled braies as soon as possible. Capon stood too on shaking legs, wincing as he staggered heavily across the camp to fetch his stolen sword and bow.
"Kurva, did I hurt you that bad?" Henry asked in disbelief, watching the lordling move as if he were about to fall over with any step.
"Nah," Capon responded, bracing himself against a log to grab his sword, "I think I've got a few bruised ribs from the thrashing they gave me. Hurts like a whore's rash."
"And you didn't think to mention that first!?"
"If I'd mentioned it, you wouldn't have fucked me, would you?" Capon staggered back over to Henry, smacking him on the arse playfully. "Great job lasting longer that time, Hal," he said to Henry's grimace. "And, I mean it. Thanks for rescuing me. I'll make sure you're properly rewarded, once we're back at Pirkstein."
Henry threw his arms out again. "When you say that, it sounds like you just want to fuck again," he said, but he was already smiling in spite of himself, earlier mood forgotten entirely.
Lord Capon looked over one of the Cuman's corpses, kicking it lightly in the head. "Godless heathens," muttered the man that Henry had fucked into the ground just moments ago.
Capon seemed to be under the impression that his horse had run off—Henry not wanting to be so quick to break the news to him that he'd spotted both his horse and dogs slain outside the campsite boundary, given that they were just-now getting along and it would be a shame to bring down the mood—and so had tasked Henry with helping him walk all the way back to Rattay. His injuries seemed more extensive than Henry had realized at first, including a badly bruised shin, multiple bruised ribs, a knock to the head, and now, a thoroughly fucked arse, all of which was making it very difficult for him to remain mobile, but they had to persevere to make it out of the woods before sunlight started to draw away.
"We'll go west at this crossroads to stop by the stream for a second," Capon commanded with an imperious point of his finger, "I've got to shit this come out of me before we make it to Rattay."
Henry wrinkled his nose. "That's a revolting way to phrase that," he said, but complied with a heave of Capon's arm around his shoulders.
"Well you're the one who put it there, not just once but twice. I don't know what you possibly expected would happen to it."
That was a good question. What did Henry expect would happen to his seed in a man's back end? There did not seem to be very much time left for thinking right before one was about to spend, he was quickly learning.
So he hauled them both to a small stream and helped Lord Hans Capon of Pirkstein take his hose off and then squat over the water, splashing his hairy arsecrack with clean water before scooping Henry's seed out of it with uncaring fingers, probably the grossest sight that Henry had not expected to see when setting out on this hunting trip yesterday.
"You," said Capon, and then flicked water in his direction with the same fingers that had just been digging in his arse, "get in here, you. You look like you were attacked by wolves out here."
"You look like you were fucked by them, sir," Henry shot back, and yelped when water was flicked at his face again.
"I said, get in! You're absolutely filthy, you dung-grubber!" Capon laughed, grinning wildly. Then suddenly he stood up, scooped a handful of water and splashed it all in Henry's face, before grabbing him roughly by the collar and pulling him into the water.
Henry landed on his arse with a heavy splash, still completely clothed, now soaked up to his stomach. He bared his teeth in a mock growl and splashed Capon's beautiful gold gambeson with a wave of water, and Capon swung his arms out and drenched Henry with cold spring water all the way up to his hair, and then, he just couldn't help it anymore.
For the first time since Skalitz fell, Henry threw his head back and laughed.