Chapter Text
Summer runs late this year, breathing its sweet langour into autumn. The open windows invite a citrus breeze and merry birdsong into Pirkstein’s great hall. Henry perches under the table, his eyes closed, his lips wrapped around Radzig’s soft cock. Crisp linen hose pillows his cheek with such warmth that it must be sinful. Yet he can’t summon the energy to care. He feels, right now, more at peace than he has ever been.
Radzig reads aloud from a collection of stories in Latin, his voice rich with velvet. Henry only catches the meaning of some of them, his mind buzzing pleasantly as Radzig’s fingers scrape lightly along his scalp. He touches Radzig in kind, peeling back the edge of his hose to stroke his ankle.
They’ve been like this for hours, touching each other idly, continuing through several interruptions. Radzig had only gotten hard in Henry’s mouth once. Hans burst through the open doors to grumble about Henry’s extended absence, claiming that he needed his help hunting hares. Radzig knew as well as Hans that this was merely an excuse for other activities. Radzig knew better than Hans what activities his boy happened to be engaging in at that moment.
“Do you like this one?”
Radzig speaks so tenderly when his mouth is full of his cock, as if Henry is an exhausted child after a game of football. Henry nuzzles Radzig’s thigh in response, a pleasant warmth settling in his core. With his mouth occupied, he can’t exactly confess that he hadn’t been listening. Luckily, he doesn’t think his father will mind.
Henry draws back enough that he can lick the head, which has the added benefit of easing the ache in his jaw. Radzig twitches inside his mouth and sighs, opening his legs to give him more space. Henry takes it as encouragement; he hollows his cheeks to suck him properly, relaxing his soft palate to accept the tip against it. Having his mouth filled by his father is simple bliss. It shuts off every other thought in his head. And Radzig delights in reminding him how much he needs that (his own personal motives aside).
He hasn’t gone so far as to make Radzig come, not in public like this, although they’d been close a handful of times. Those encounters usually ended with Radzig scruffing him to the bedroom, shoving him to the ground, and fucking his throat until he cried. He doesn’t feel that depraved at the moment, but he’s responsive to the way Radzig’s attention has shifted towards him, his breath hitching, the story temporarily abandoned. Henry takes more of him, stroking the underside with his tongue, relishing the way his cock throbs in his mouth. Is it possible to get drunk on precum?
Radzig’s grip tightens in his hair. “Relax, sweetheart.”
Henry turns his face between Radzig’s thighs to hide the heat unfurling in his cheeks. He still isn’t used to being addressed like that. It’s unfair how quickly Radzig realized the effect it has on him.
Above him, Radzig laughs. His voice is husky. “I didn’t tell you to stop entirely.”
“I told you to stop calling me that,” Henry retorts—probably a bit louder than he should have.
Radzig leans down to scrutinize him under the table. He wipes the drool from Henry’s lips, his eyes dark. “I have two decades of affection to atone for with you. So no, I won’t.” He presses down on the nape of Henry’s neck. “Now put your mouth back where it belongs.”
Henry rolls his eyes, but he lets Radzig coax him back into position. He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Radzig’s calves and holding him close. Radzig murmurs soft praise, ruffling his hair, and returns to reading aloud. As much as it makes Henry squirm to be accused of being sweet, he can’t argue that his mouth belongs on his father’s cock.
The lustrous summer days in Pirkstein are not yet over. He intends to take advantage of them.