What's in a Name?

by Deadly_Nightshade115

Summary:

Shakespeare AU
Henry preforms as an actor in Shakespeare's company for one of their wealthy sponsors, Lord Hans Capon. The performance awakens something in Hans that he isn't quite sure what to do with.

I'm bad at descriptions: Henry wears a dress and kisses another man on stage, Hans discovers that's something he wants, Bartosch wants what's best for Henry, Hans is jealous of Bartosch, love triangle, drama ensues.

Notes:

So, for starters, trigger warning for crossdressing and associated language and such, shouldn't be anything too bad. Also warning for suicide, I guess? They are doing Romeo and Juliet; I'm just covering my bases.

Ok so, I've been really struggling to write lately, I wanted to write a Hansry fic and started like 5 different ones and somehow this is what I can write?? Is it historically very confusing and stupid? Yes. Is it fun nonsense to write? Also yes.
This is partly inspired by Tom McKay's career and partly inspired by me being a gay history nerd that likes Shakespeare.
I've tried to make it as historically accurate as I can, but like, its only fanfic, don't expect too much.
Also we are ignoring that the characters in Romeo and Juliet are like 14 because it fits perfectly thematically and I want to. Idk I'm writing this at 6am, I've worked on this all night.

Enjoy reading! :D

Chapter 1: Act 1

“Henry? Henry?” He heard his name being shouted through the torrent of actors in the cramped backstage of the play-house. He poked his head up to see a disgruntled playwright, shout “Henry!” one more time as he waved his hand in the air to summon his attention.

Henry blinked, unsure why such an important man would be looking for him, he was barely an understudy, a stagehand, he spent more days at his father’s forge than on a stage. “Oh, Master Shakespeare, can I help you?”

He came up close so Henry could hear him, “I have good news! You’re up tonight!” he gave him a congratulatory tap on his shoulder.

Henry was excited, for a moment, before he remembered it was a private show and not one in the familiar environment at The Theatre, his heart sunk a little, “What? Me? Infront of all those nobles?”

“Yes! Why not? Michael’s ill and we can’t exactly cancel the show. Young Lord Capon is an important sponsor, after all.” Shakespeare’s expression was unchanging, if he noticed Henry’s unease, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Dread crept up Henry’s spine as he realised, “Michael? You want me to stand in as Juliet?”

“You do know the part, do you not?” Shakespeare’s patience was fading fast, and Henry knew it. He was a very busy man after all.

“Aye, I do… I’m not exactly the most convincing lass, though.” Henry tried to warn him.

“Well, they know you’re a bloke regardless, it’s not like we’d have an actual woman on the stage. Hairy-chested Juliet is preferable to no show at all, I’m sure.” He clapped his hands together, interrupting Henry’s response before he had the chance to make it, “Go practice your lines and tell Bartosch about the change in plans, he’ll help you with the costume and so on. Break a leg.” He smiled and nodded then left, Henry could hear him calling out for someone else as he was leaving.

Henry’s brain was still catching up to his situation. He’d played women before, but never such a big role as Juliet, nor had he done it for a private performance. Preforming in some noble’s gallery for them and their peers felt far more intimate than a show for the rabble in the theatre grounds.

His stomach lurched as he thought about facing a bunch of nobles while wearing a dress. He wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity and force the performance to be cancelled, if he did, he’d never be allowed on stage again, but he sure wasn’t excited about it. He went out to the seating area and found a spot in one of the booths in the gallery, the only bit of privacy he could find in the busy theatre.

He hid from view, crouched on the floor with his back to the stage. He could do it, he knew he could. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to ease the tensed muscles. Maybe he should bring some spirits to ease his nerves.

“Henry, are you alright?” A kind voice from above pulled Henry from his thoughts.

He looked up to see Bartosch, still dressed as Romeo, offering him a hand. Henry took it, letting him help him to his feet. “Yeah, Sorry sir, just nerves is all.”

Bartosch had a worried look on his face and Henry felt bad for causing it, “If you’re uncomfortable, I can talk to-”

“No, it’s not- I’m thankful for the opportunity. Preforming in front of nobles like that is… intimidating.” Henry looked down, feeling worse and worse about being nervous. Bartosch was such a professional, always calm, collected and effortlessly smooth, in comparison Henry was still very amateur, to his shame, he was a little envious.

Bartosch frowned, “you’ve performed to bigger audiences.”

“I prefer the bigger crowds, there’s so many people, you don’t need to look anyone in the eye, see them judge you. A room with only a few nobles, feels too… intimate.” Henry tried to explain.

“I didn’t realise you were so intimidated by nobles.” A slight grin tugged the corner of his mouth, “You never seemed that intimidated by me.”

“You’re different, you’re an actor too. Other nobles are very… harsh.” Henry could picture them laughing, jeering, each face looking directly at him.

“Oh, don’t need to worry about that, it’s a celebration, I’m sure they’ll be barely following it.” Bartosch’s words soothed Henry more than he wanted to admit.

Henry couldn’t help return the slight smile Bartosch was giving him before shifting the conversation. “Romeo and Juliet is a depressing choice for a celebration, why didn’t he choose something funnier? Or one for the historical ones, nobles love those.”

“I have no idea, but Lord Hans Capon requested this one specifically.” Bartosch replied.

Henry nodded, figuring he’d have to ask Lord Capon himself if he wanted an answer to that.

“Oh and Henry, if any of the nobles… say or do anything you aren’t comfortable with, you come straight to me, ok?” Bartosch added with an uneasy tone.

“Does that happen a lot?” Henry was sure he could handle someone if they stepped out of line, but, punching a noble in the face was perhaps not the best choice, so Bartosch’s intervention would be appreciated.

He responded, “No- but it isn’t unheard of. I don’t think Capon is the type, but I don’t know who else he invited.”

Henry nodded, "Thank you, sir… and- I’m glad it’s you playing Romeo. I just hope I don’t throw you off too much."

“Well… dressed like that, you might.” He smiled warmly, “Let’s go find you something suitable for a fine young lady.”

Henry smiled and scoffed, “You arse.”

“So am I the only noble you talk like that to? Or…?” Bartosch teased.

Henry laughed easy, “Since my head’s still on my shoulders, aye.”

 

His entry scene was approaching too fast. Henry couldn’t calm his nerves. He looked down, his hairy chest being pushed up by stays in a way that made him look more indecent than if he’d been wearing nothing at all. He took deep breaths to try to calm himself, but with every heave of his chest, it threatened to burst out of his dress. He was thankful for the stage makeup or hiding the redness that had been clinging to his face since he donned the damn dress.

It was time to go out on stage; he had heard the call, “Juliet!”

Quickly, he took a swig from a small bottle of strong spirits and put it in his stocking, it wasn’t his first drink, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

He entered the stage, joining the two other people in drag, each more convincing of a lady than he, but he was nevertheless happy to not be the only one. He wasn’t brave enough to look at the audience yet.

His entrance earned a snicker or two, he addressed Juliet’s maid, and said his first line. “How now, who calls?”

“Your mother.” She replied.

“Madam, I am here. What is your will?” He looked towards the mother, accidentally seeing the 10 or so members of the audience. He couldn’t look at them, the best he could do was to stop his voice from wavering, he knew all the things they must be thinking. He swallowed hard between lines, he hoped no one noticed. The alcohol wasn’t working fast enough, he should’ve started earlier in the day.

Thankfully, the other women had far more lines than Juliet so Henry got to watch the other actors and pretend the audience didn’t exist for a while.

When he finally got off stage, he felt his heart beating heavy in his chest. He took another sip of spirits and hoped that by the time he had to go out again, he’d have a little more courage.

 

Henry went out on stage once again, the masquerade scene. He was a little more confident with his face hidden behind a mask. Before he could think about it, his eyes scanned the audience. It was a mistake; he wasn’t even the one talking and half of them were watching him. One especially had a cruel grin, like he had to stop himself from laughing. Searching for a distraction, he noticed in the middle of them; a regal looking young man. He’d seen him around the theatre before, though they had never been introduced. Hans Capon, it had to be. He wasn’t looking at him, he was absorbed in the Capulet’s speech, taking it seriously, ignoring the woman sitting next to him, tugging his sleeve. He was happy he hadn’t become a distracting jester performance for everyone there.

Pulled back to the scene, the play continued around him, carrying him into the dancing and merriment of the Capulet’s party.

Eventually, Bartosch took his hand, his gentle eyes watching Henry through his mask, “If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle pain is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

It wasn’t hard to act swept away by Bartosch, dark eyes drew him in and the subtle point his moustache did when he smile, tugged his heart like it was attached by an invisible string. Henry fluttered his eyes and watch his lips as he responded, “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this: for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Bartosch questioned, his pleading eyes made it easy to forget what their audience looked like.

Henry’s nerves faded more and more, he was unsure if it was the result of the alcohol or just Bartosch’s presence, “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” He smiled, innocently at Bartosch.

Bartosch pulled his hand closer, “o then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, they pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” The longer the scene went, the longer he could be encouraged by Bartosch’s gentle hand and steady gaze, the better Henry got, slipping into the character, forgetting all else.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged.” Bartosch moved in, an arm around Henry’s waist, pulled him in for a dramatic and almost desperate kiss.

When they parted, they stayed close, close enough to feel the other’s breath against their skin as they traded lines. “Then have my lips the sin that they have took.” The lines now falling from Henry’s mouth like honey fell from a dipper.

“Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” Bartosch’s was soft and steady as always. He kissed Henry again, longer this time, but still chaste, he didn’t risk a deep kiss on stage and Henry was thankful.

Henry pulled back and Bartosch let his grip on Henry’s waist drop. “You kiss by th’ book.”

The Nurse interrupted and Bartosch stepped forward to address her. As he crossed in front of Henry, he caught a glance of the audience as his eyes trailed. Hans Capon was watching, an absentminded smile lighting up his features. He was beautiful, wearing his emotions freely looking totally enthralled by the story they were telling on stage. He was happy that he, at least, was enjoying the performance.

 

As the play continued, he found himself watching Hans in the audience almost as much as Hans was watching him. It was encouraging, watching him hang on every word, getting small smiles whenever Hans noticed Henry watching him from the stage.

Atop the makeshift balcony, Henry delivered his lines, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He found his eyes lingering on Hans. Hans had lifted his head, his soft, pink lips parting ever so slightly, like the line had touched his heart. Henry wondered if he had perhaps considered giving up his title for a lover, like Juliet was pleading. He could imagine it, anyone could be swept away by the beauty of the young lord, he only wondered what Hellen-of-troy-like beauty it would take for him to be so lost in the tide.

 

Henry looked down at Bartosch laying beside him, conjured tears already pricking in his eyes, “What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end, O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips.” Henry pressed a gentle kiss onto Bartosch’s lips; the last one of the play, he was a little sad about it. “Haply some poison yet doth hang on them to make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm!” He let a pained smile turn his mouth, tears falling freely.

The page entered stage, “Lead, boy. Which way?”

“Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger,” Henry pulled the dagger from Bartosch’s belt. “This is thy sheath;” he thrust the dagger along his side, hiding the blade from the audience, he heard a small gasp from the audience, Hans. He wanted for a second to smile, but he kept steady and delivered his final line. “There rest, and let me die.” He collapsed onto Bartosch’s chest, a comfortable place to rest for the remainder of the play.

 

The final line of the play came sooner than Henry wished. “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” The prince bowed and signalled the end of the play to the somewhat disappointing clapping of a handful of people. All the actors came out to join them, barely managing to fit across the makeshift stage. Bartosch helped Henry stand, the world swayed around him like he was on a ship and Henry realised he might’ve drack too much. Bartosch held him steady and lent in close to whisper, “You did perfectly.” In Henry’s ear while they were hidden by the other actors. They too, joined the lineup and bowed. Henry saw lord Capon clapping the most enthusiastic out of everyone, looking directly at henry with admiration on his face. Henry could feel his heart swell, a look of respect and gratefulness rather than disgust and derision. That man had turned a nightmare into a treasured memory, though Henry wasn’t expecting to be able to thank him for it.

 

They retreated backstage and Henry was more than happy to strip himself out of his dress. He peeled it off and saw the imprints of the boning in the stays, the chemise hadn’t been enough to protect him from it being constructed for a significantly smaller man. He slipped on a loose shirt and doublet, rough and worn. He opted to keep it undone; he wanted to feel as little restriction as possible.

He put his costume and props into a sack and heaved it over his shoulder, ready to take it back to the theatre. He hummed a tune to himself, he’d overcame his fear and given a brilliant performance despite everything. He felt as proud as a king, a dangerous thing to feel in the presence of noblemen.

As he staggered his way out, his mind swimming with adrenaline and alcohol both, he ran into a slightly anxious looking Lord Capon. Startled, he dropped the sack to his side. He bowed, a little off centre thanks to the spirits, “Lord Capon.”

Capon nodded, a practiced smile on his face even as his brow creased with anxiety, “I won’t keep you too long. I just wanted to- well, I’ve heard I have you to thank for this performance going ahead?”

“Aye sir, well, it’s a group effort, but our normal Juliet got sick, so… I stepped in. I hope I didn’t ruin the show for you. Our usual Juliet is a lot prettier, I promise.” Henry laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ruin it? Of course not! You looked- I mean, the show was beautiful and heart breaking.” There was something so genuine yet sorrowful in the Lord’s face, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes, how quickly his expression changed from joy to devastation as he spoke. “In fact, I’d like to reward you, but I don’t have anything prepared.” He started fiddling with his hands and patting his pockets.

“Oh, that’s alright sir, I really didn’t do-” Henry started.

He pulled a ring off his finger and held it out. “Please, the play meant a lot to me. It’s only right that I, as a noble, compensate you somehow.”

He looked almost shy as Henry took the ring from his hand, “Then thank you, my lord.” He paused for a moment, but Hans didn’t leave, like he wanted to talk more. “If… I may ask, what about the play did you like? I saw you from the stage and you seemed very invested… is there a story there?”

“Oh no, not really… just… one’s heart should be their own, right? Theres something so… heartbreaking, about not being able to marry the one you love because of who you are…” Hans’ expression told Henry that wasn’t quite all of it.

Henry could guess what the rest was, he was very familiar with it, especially around the theatre. “Ah, I see why a Noble Lord such as your self would be so affected by that.”

Hans looked down, Henry could tell he wanted to say more. Henry also knew why he couldn’t. “Well, I hope the time comes, you’re able to marry someone you love.”

“I doubt that.” Hans responded quickly, like it wasn’t even a possibility.

“Have you… ever considered getting up on stage yourself? It can be quite freeing, being able to pretend you’re someone else for a little, even if you’re just following a script.” Henry knew the theatre was one of the kinder places for a man like Hans.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Its improper for a noble to engage in…” Hans got lost in his thoughts for a moment, then he lowered his voice and continued, “Actually, I was wondering… is it not strange, kissing another man on stage?”

Henry paused, caught off-guard by the bluntness question, but as he saw the twist of uncertainty on Hans’ face, he answered quickly, as to not discourage him. “Well, it’s not that different from kissing a lass.”

Curiosity lit up Hans’ face, but he clearly couldn’t find words, his lips parting only to shut again without a sound.

Then Henry had a bad idea, “If you’re curious… I could show you?”

“Wh…” Hans’ face fell, blank.

Henry put a Hand on the back of his head, gently and slowly pulling Hans in, giving him ample opportunity to stop. At the slightest resistance, Henry was ready to play it off as a drunken joke, but that never came. Hans offered no resistance, his eyes were wide, and his lips were still, but he let himself be lead. Henry kissed him softly, only for a moment, He didn’t feel Hans move at all until his lips moved slightly too late to chase Henry’s as he pulled away.

Henry let him go, Hans looked like his mind hadn’t quite caught up. A hand moved to his lips as if he were checking they were still attached.

Henry was grinning, proud of himself when a sudden arm around his shoulder made him jump out of his skin.

Bartosch looked at him with aching concern, “Henry, are you alright? Need help carrying anything?”

“Oh uh, sorry sir, it’s fine, I was just having a chat with Lord Capon.” Henry was smiling like a thief that had stolen the crown jewels.

Bartosch looked at Hans with suspicion while Hans turned away from both of them, rubbing over his mouth with his hand, “Yes, of course, you both did an amazing job, I should be off now I-I have… things to do.” Hans left, practically running away.

Bartosch turned to Henry, still steadying him with a strong arm, “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“No, of course not, sir. He just thanked me and gave me a ring. He really enjoyed the show.” Henry smiled again.

“Good, you did a great job, I’m glad he appreciates it.” He patted Henry’s shoulder. “Now we should catch up to the others. Once we’ve dropped everything off, we are going for drinks. Though, maybe you should sit the first few rounds out so that we can all catch up to you.” He chuckled.

“Hey, I haven’t had that much.” Henry protested.

“Are you aware you’re swaying like a pregnant horse?” Bartosch laughed and Henry couldn’t help but join him.

“Oh, come off it. Let’s get moving then.” Henry shoved him jokingly and they got back to task.

 

They didn’t stay for drinks long before both Bartosch and Henry excused themselves. They reasoned that Henry lived far away and through a bad area, it was safer for him to go with Bartosch for now and head home in the morning.

Most of the others knew what that meant, but no one said anything.

The truth was, their blood was still running hot after the show and the drinks weren’t helping.

Once they reached Bartosch’s home, in the privacy of his cosy chamber, they got hot and heavy fast.

Henry kissed him hard, like he had something prove. Bartosch matched his enthusiasm, but never asked for more. They tugged each other’s clothes off frantically, Bartosch pulled away when he caught a glimpse of the bruises from the stays on Henry’s torso.

He ran a finger along them so gently the only reaction he got was the skin prickling, “You should’ve said something, we could’ve found you something else…”

“Its fine, it’ll fade.” Henry pressed their bodies back together, pushing Bartosch down on his own bed, kissing him harshly, not wanting to talk any more.

Bartosch slipped a hand down Henry’s back, but as soon as he reached his ass, Henry pulled away, grunting, “Not in the mood.”

“Oh.” Bartosch managed between kisses, withdrawing his hands immediately and resting them against Henry’s chest. He was confused for a moment before he felt Henry’s hand reach down and grasp his bare backside. “Ah-”

“Can I?” Henry asked with the obedience of a dog waiting to be fed.

Bartosch nodded, “Of course.” He pulled his legs up around Henry’s waist.

Henry sat back and got to work preparing Bartosch for his entrance. This wasn’t even close to the first time. They knew each other’s bodies well, Bartosch was wondering if it was too well, too serious.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been in a frock all day…” Henry muttered, two fingers already inside to the knuckle.

“I understand… but- if you need to feel like a man, why not find a woman?” Bartosch said between grunts, half teasing.

“Why bother a lass when I’ve got you right here.” Henry responded with too much sincerity.

“Oh? Good to know I’m convenient.” The sarcasm in his voice was lost in heavy breaths.

Henry frowned in protest, “That’s not-”

“Its fine Henry, just hurry up, I don’t need all this-” He interrupted himself with a moan as Henry pushed himself inside.

Henry kissed Bartosch’s neck now he was up close again. Thrusting slow and steady, enjoying the way his body shook and arched up against his.

He lived alone and while screaming might be heard from outside, there was no need to be silent. He knew Henry liked the feedback, so he let his voice be heard, quiet praise and pleas for more amongst moans. Henry’s thrusts got harder and faster.

Bartosch clung to him to stop himself from slipping up and hitting the headboard, “Ah, Henry-” Just as he was about to ask Henry to calm down, Henry pulled out completely and spilled into a rag. They both took a moment to catch their breath, but Bartosch’s cock was achingly hard against his stomach. He reached down to stroke it himself, but Henry shooed him off it. He looked down and saw henry bent over, lips on the tip of his cock as he held it.

“Done feeling like a man now?” Bartosch teased.

The sides of Henry’s mouth curled around his cock in an attempt at a smile as he nodded slightly.

Bartosch leant back, his sweat shimmering in the moonlight that leaked from the window, muscles moving with every ragged breath.

Bartosch almost lost himself, only catching himself just in time to cry “Henry wait, I’ll-” Henry pulled back and caught Bartosch with the rag too.

Bartosch fell limp on his bed and Henry joined him, curling up against his chest. It was a sweet release at the end of a thrilling day; it didn’t take them long to drift into sleep like that.

Chapter 2: Act 2

Summary:

Hans has a crash out. Like, that's most of this chapter.

Notes:

Should be no warnings for this chapter, but Hans is having a terrible day so idk.

Hans wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring into the darkness of his chamber. Restless, his heart ached under the crushing weight of something he didn’t dare question. As the years rolled on: the threat of a marriage, the pressure of running an estate, the responsibility to behave dignified like a noble should, it all felt suffocating.

He sat up on his bed, tossing the blankets back and pulling his shirt off, over his head. The night air was freezing, but sweat clung to Hans like he’d just run 10 miles. He hugged himself, digging his fingers into flesh, cursing that being bound by it meant no matter what he did, he’d never truly move freely.

‘It can be quite freeing, being able to pretend you’re someone else for a little,’ He remembered what that handsome actor had told him. He remembered his deep blue eyes looking at him with a gentleness and ease he seldom saw as a noble. His cheeky grin, his unbuttoned doublet, chest hair peeking through.

It wasn’t that simple, of course. He wasn’t an actor on a stage, he couldn’t just pretend to be someone else. Yet, maybe, for just a moment, in the darkness and privacy of his chamber…

He remembered when the actor- Henry, he’d been called, pulled him in, kissed him sweetly, unashamed. He felt a pit in his stomach, longing. He traced his lips, imagining Henry’s there, kissing him gently, deeply. Imagining he had the courage to kiss him back. He lay backwards, letting his free hand slide down his body and into his breeches.

He started to stroke himself, letting the hand on his lips, slip to the back of his neck, where Henry had held him.

He pushed his head back into the pillow, letting his hand slip lower. Over his collar bone, across his chest, stopping at his nipple to give the nub a harsh tug. A small yelp escaped him, so he bit his own lip in penance.

He stroked faster and arched his back off the bed. He felt a tear slip down the side of his face, getting lost in the sweat at his hairline.

Quiet whimpers got lost in the night as he got closer and closer to release. He felt another tear fall, then another. He bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from crying out as he came.

Then only for a moment did his mind float, then he was swallowed by an overwhelming sadness, he knew it could never be. Tears kept falling from his eyes, the lump in his throat so heavy he felt as if he was choking on it.

He turned to his side, curling up tight. It didn’t take long for him to feel the crushing reality of his life once again.

 

“Hans!” A voice boomed.

The young Lord’s head snapped up to meet the mildly annoyed gaze of his uncle, Hanush. “Yes, Uncle?”

He wiped crumbs off his mouth with a kerchief, “Why on earth are you acting like a dead man, boy.” That was about as close as he’d ever gotten to concern for Hans.

“I drank a lot last night, I guess it’s catching up to me.” He looked down at the full plate of food that was going cold in front of him. He had no appetite.

“Well, that’s to be expected, I suppose.” Hanush turned the fork in his hand, looking between his plate, Hans’ plate and Hans himself. “Don’t forget, we are meeting Sir Radzig later about the trip.”

Hans hesitated a moment before responding carefully, “I’ve been thinking about that actually… Is it really necessary I go?”

Hanush leant back in his chair with a creak, “What do you mean? The entire point of the trip was to find you-”

“A wife, yes, exactly. I’d rather not run around Europe, being paraded like- like a fine bred fucking mare.” Hans was almost laughing, but there was no joy in his tone.

“Hans-” A flicker of rage flashed in Hanush’s face, redness slowly rising.

Hans wasn’t quite done, “It doesn’t matter who you suggest, I’ve told you I don’t want to get married yet. I’m still young.”

Hanush, making considerable effort to keep his voice quiet, nevertheless dropped his cutlery with a pronounced clatter, “Careful, boy. You know the estate isn’t yours until you marry, how do you expect to fund your little projects if I cut you off?”

Hans sat back, the manic tinge in his voice now replaced by hollowness, “Don’t act like it matters if I agree or not. I’d rather have a couple more months of freedom than waste my time with that, it’ll be your choice regardless.”

Hanush grumbled, perhaps noticing the fight leave Hans, “Fine. But you better not forget yourself while we’re gone.”

“Or you’ll what? Marry me off?” Hans pushed his plate into the centre of the table as he stood up. He stormed off to the sound of an annoyed sigh from his uncle.

 

Hans left for the courtyard, longing to be free of the oppressive stone walls.

His rage had barely cooled when a horse rode through the gate. Atop, sat a lord in brown leathers. “Oh, Lord Capon!” Radzig exclaimed as he hopped down.

Hans approached him as he hitched his horse, “Aren’t you a little early, Sir Radzig?”

“Yes, well, I was just going to leave my horse here while I take a stroll to get your present.” Radzig offered a warm smile, he always seemed in high spirits and today was no different.

Hans responded curiously, “Oh? Where are you headed?”

“A blacksmith, just the other side of the river.” He waved in the air, indicating he direction.

“Can I come with you?” Hans glanced back at the main building, “I’d like to get away from here for a little bit.”

“Are you sure? It’s not a short walk.” Radzig warned.

“Are you calling me unfit?” Hans laughed, the prospect of a stroll through the city already lightening his mood.

Radzig returned a cheeky smile, “Well, you are getting older. What is it, 23 now?”

“Yes… but are you sure you want to play this game, old man?” Hans smirked.

Radzig huffed, “No, you’re right, I yield.” He chuckled playfully, then once silence returned, he added, “You know, that’s the same age as- as the blacksmith’s boy.”

Hans asked in a dismissive tone, “The blacksmith’s boy? What do I care about some blacksmith’s boy?”

“Well, he’s who I commissioned your gift from.” Radzig responded plainly.

Hans scoffed, “Nice to know you spared no expense, you hired an amateur?”

“That’s unfair, the boy is gifted. His father is a master of his craft and one day he will be too, I’m sure.” Radzig responded defensively, it was very rare for Hans to see him actually bothered.

“One day? So not yet.” Hans responded, his tone softening, sensing he had stepped in a sensitive issue, somehow.

“Well, I don’t think many people would recognise a master so young, but he’s really not far off. At least look at his work before you judge.” Radzig reasoned, still with a defensiveness that was unknown to Hans.

Hans acquiesced, his tone light once again, “Alright, alright, but I’m expecting it to be terribly impressive now.”

 

Henry awoke to gentle tapping on his face and the warm light of the sun, “Hey, Henry, Wake up.”

Henry grumbled, nuzzling his face against his companion’s chest.

Bartosch brushed Henry’s hair behind his ear, “I know, I know, but we need to get up, you’ve already lost half the day.”

“Hmm?” Henry looked toward the window where the sun glared, already high enough to startle him. “Oh… Shit.” He pulled himself upright quickly and grabbed his clothes off the floor. As he got dressed, the events of the day before slowly came back to him, now, finally, with a sober mind.

“Shit.” He repeated more grimly as he buried his face in his hands.

Bartosch sat up behind him, resting a hand on Henry’s shoulder to comfort him, “What’s wrong? Are you alright Henry?”

“I think… I kissed… Shit.” He rubbed his face like he was trying to pull the skin off, “I kissed Lord Hans Capon.”

“What? When? Why?” Bartosch shook his head.

“It was stupid, it was right after the show- he told me something and he seemed so- Shit.” Henry fell backwards on the bed, onto Bartosch’s lap.

“Well- maybe you should head home for now. If he shows up I’ll tell him you were drunk, I’m sure we can work it out if he’s also… Wait, he is interested in men, right? You didn’t force yourself on a noble did you-” Bartosch’s tone turned from comforting to accusatorial.

“No, of course not. Or, I don’t think I did. I certainly got the idea he wanted to, but I was pretty drunk so…” Henry was beginning to question that, himself.

Bartosch sighed, “Alright… you go home Henry, I’ll do what I can and stop by once it’s sorted.” Bartosch shooed Henry off him so he could begin getting dressed. “If he was also drinking, there’s a chance he wont even remember it enough to say anything. It’s still probably best you avoid him for a while though.” He looked at Henry with concern that made his stomach turn.

Henry nodded, “Yeah… Thanks, sir.”

 

When Henry returned home, Mutt was the first to greet him. He ran up when he was still on the street outside. Henry knelt, not caring about further dirtying his already well-worn clothes, “Good to see you too, you ugly fleabag.” Henry laughed as he gave Mutt some neck pats, failing to keep him from jumping up and licking his face.

“Henry!” he heard his father call, “Hurry up and get over here, Sir Radzig’s here to collect that dagger you’ve been working on.”

“Oh? Sorry, I’ll be right there!” He yelled back, finally pushing Mutt off.

He picked himself up, headed through the house. Dropped off his gear, discarded his doublet, gave his face a quick wash, pulled the cloth wrapped dagger from under his bed and even slipped mutt a sausage all on his way to the forge out the back.

As he stepped out the door his eye was caught by a figure in an unfamiliar golden cloak, he knew Radzig had brought another noble with him.

Henry bowed as he held the bundled cloth to his chest, “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t realise you were coming for it today, I would’ve been- if I knew… I…” His words trailed off as he looked up to see the figure in the golden cloak had turned around. Golden quaffed hair and piercing eyes, he suited the muck and ash of the forge about as much as an angel would if he deigned to walk around on earth.

Hans looked back at him, wide eyed and red flushing his cheeks. Henry was worried he redness was anger, he held his breath for a minute, waiting for the noble to snap at him.

Radzig responded to Henry, pulling his attention back, “Don’t worry about it Henry, I should’ve let you know. Is the piece finished?”

“Ah- y-yes, it is, sir.” Henry motioned to the cloth in his arms, eyes still rapidly flickering to the other Noble and back.

“Oh, right. Henry, this is Lord Hans Capon.” Radzig motioned to the man beside him, but neither him nor Henry moved an inch. After enduring a moment of awkward silence, he added, “Have you two met before?”

“Oh, uh-” they both started.

Hans continued with preformed authority, “We met briefly yesterday, he put on a brilliant performance.”

Henry’s fear faded when Hans gave him a look of appreciation rather than scorn, but eyes went wide when he heard his father repeat, “Performance? I didn’t realise you were getting on stage, now?”

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to- it was only because someone was sick and I happened to know the lines, hearing it so often -as I was hauling sacks and hammering backdrops and all that.” Henry tried to brush it off, but his nervous laughter urged the young lord to speak up.

“That’s true- Henry here stopped the whole night from being ruined, I can’t say how grateful I am he stepped in.” Hans gave a small but encouraging smile to Henry.

“Thank you, Lord Capon.” Henry bowed his head with sincerity.

His father put his hand on Henry’s shoulder, “What are you waiting for son, hand it over.”

“Oh, right. Here you go sir.” He held the bundled cloth out to Radzig.

“Actually, it’s a gift for Lord Capon, you should present it to him.” Radzig motioned to Hans.

Henry looked back at him, “Are you sure, sir? It’s still a gift from you.”

“Well, on the way over here Hans seemed quite sceptical of your work. I think its important he looks it’s artisan in the eye when he sees it for the first time.” Radzig lightly coaxed Hans forward to stand directly in front of Henry.

“Oh- I-I didn’t mean to-” Hans stammered as his face flushed red.

Henry held the dagger out, evenly across his two palms, fabric still covering it so Hans could uncover it himself at his own pace.

Hans reached for it, his hand ever so slightly unsteady. He flipped back the fabric and revealed an ornate stiletto dagger in its sheath. Henry could feel the weight of Hans’ grip when he picked it up. Cast from a single piece of metal, fine details all engraved, shaped like a cross with wings wrapped around the pommel. He pulled the blade out, it was long and fine, expertly crafted and perfectly weighted.

“Wow, its- beautiful.” Hans didn’t take his eyes off the blade, looking it with the same intensity that Henry was watching his face with.

“I’m glad you like it, my lord.” Henry smiled sweetly, proud of the work he’d done.

Then, Hans’ eyes slipped beyond the blade, locking onto Henry in a way felt like the world had frozen around them.

Of course, the world hadn’t stopped. “May I?” Radzig asked Hans, holding out a hand for the dagger. Hans handed it over, once the eye contact was broken, he seemed to run from it. Radzig examined the blade, “Good, Henry. This is impressive work.”

“Very impressive he managed that, considering how much he’s been slacking off lately.” His father added.

Radzig responded to Martin, “Go easy on him Martin, he’s still young, he’ll settle in.”

“Hm.” He crossed his arms with a knowing glare that made Radzig shy away slightly.

“Right, well.” He handed the dagger back to Hans, “We should be off now before Hanush sends out the guard.”

Hans looked at the ground, then up at Henry, like he was pleading, but Henry didn’t know what for. His shoulders fell and he looked back at Radzig, “I suppose so…”

 

They left and Henry was left at the mercy of his mother and father. His father finished up his work at the forge when he went inside for food.

“Oh Henry.” His mother sighed, licking a cloth and shoving it into the creases of Henry’s eye.

“Ma- what are you-” He protested.

She pulled the cloth away revealing a smudge from last night’s makeup, “You’re going to do your father in, if you aren’t careful. Staying out all night, coming back with your face all painted.”

Henry pouted, “Ma- I’m only going on stage.”

“Well I know that, but you should tell him!” She pointed out the window at Martin as she spooned some soup into a bowl for Henry.

Henry’s shoulders fell, “It’ll break his heart. I can’t-”

She put the bowl in front of him, “You should give him more credit. He might surprise you.”

Henry took a spoon and poked at the chunks of potato, “Not yet, not before I’ve even had a proper role.”

“Hmm…” She clattered around putting a few things away as Henry took a few slurps. Then she spun around with renewed enthusiasm, “Oh, by the way, do you know that Noble lad? His whole demeaner shifted up when he saw you.”

Henry paused and furrowed his eyebrows, “Were you spying on them ma?”

She shrugged and took a seat at the table across from him, giving a look that urged him to continue.

“Ma… I can’t-” Henry responded, though he wished he could explain.

She raised her eyebrows, “Ah, I see.”

“Wait- no, it’s not-” Henry went quiet when his father opened the door.

He stood over Henry with his hands on his hips. “So I understand where you were last night, but where on earth have you been half the day? I thought I was going to have to turn them both away because I didn’t know where you put that dagger.”

“Sorry, pa. I- well I spent the night with a lass, and I was so tired after the show, I just- slept in.” He looked down at his food.

He felt a pat on his back as his father responded with a half-sarcastic; “Generous woman, letting you take up space in her bed all day.”

Henry nodded coyly. “Sure is.”

 

The rest of Hans’ day was far less pleasant. He endured a long and arduous meeting with Hanush and Radzig about the trip he wasn’t even going on yet Hanush insisted he be present for, perhaps as punishment for how he’d spoken to him earlier.

He found his attention wandering to his new dagger, the beautiful detailing on the hilt and the hands that made it. Henry: the blacksmith’s boy. Part of him was ashamed he’d had the thoughts he had about someone so low born; but another part of him could picture him sweaty and fresh from the forge, bending Hans over and pounding him like-

“Hans!” Hanush called, snapping Hans from his daydream. “I don’t know what’s got into him lately, his head’s in the clouds more than usual.”

“Are… you feeling alright, Hans?” Radzig asked, voicing the concern Hanush wouldn’t.

Hans nodded half-heartedly, “Of course. I’m just a little tired, may I be excused now?”

Hanush scrunched his face, looking at Radzig contemplatively, “I… guess. We are about done. Are you sure you don’t want us to bring anything back for you?”

“Well, there’s certainly something I don’t want you to bring back.” Hans couldn’t help the bite in his tone.

Before Hanush had the chance to escalate things, Radzig asked Hans, “Why are you so adverse to getting married, Hans?”

“You really don’t understand why I don’t want my uncle choosing the woman I’m bound to until death? Who I am to have a family with? Why I might want the chance to make this one choice for myself?” Hans gripped his new dagger tightly, his hands had barely left it since he got it.

“It’s just how it’s done.” Radzig responded immediately, then he collected his thoughts and continued, “You never know, she might be beautiful. And even if you don’t get along, no one would begrudge you for looking elsewhere… so long as you’re discreet.”

“Why should I have to hide?” Hans snapped. The words hung in the air too long, no one responded. Hans could feel the lump in his throat again; suddenly his collar was too tight and the room was too small. He needed air. “Excuse me.” He said as he left the room.

 

Hans headed to the place he always went to when he wanted to escape.

The sun started to set and people started to head home or to the taverns or wherever else offered them comfort after a long day and Hans, of course, headed to the theatre. He wasn’t even sure if there was even a show on, he just wanted to see the man whose presence had been haunting him.

He went up to the gate to the theatre’s garden -it was shut, so there was no show on. Hans was disappointed, but he could hear voices inside. He opened the gate and slipped inside.

The young man that noticed him first was carrying around a pair of stools but dropped them to bow, “Lord Capon? Why are you here- it’s only a rehearsal-”

Hans waved at him dismissively to get him to quieten, “Yeah, I’ll only be a moment. I need to speak with Henry.”

“Henry? We have a few…” the man’s eyes scanned the theatre.

“Ah.” Hans didn’t know his family name, if blacksmiths even had one, so he just added, “He’s a blacksmith? If that helps?”

“Hmm… I’ll ask around.” The man scurried off.

Hans leant against a post near the gate, looking around the grounds, fruitlessly, for Henry. After a moment, another man approached him. He had dark hair and a roguish moustache, it was the same man who had played Romeo the night before, “Lord Hans Capon, it’s good to see you again.” He said with a smile.

Hans straightened himself, “Ah yes, it’s Sir, Bartosch, right? You were Romeo.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“It’s unusual to see a man of your standing in such a position.” Hans responded with a voice tinged by the bitterness of seeing a noble engaged in the behaviour he’d always been told was too base for him.

“That’s true. Though I am most often performing as nobility, for nobility, so I don’t exactly feel out of place.” His voice was easy, Hans’ jealousy grew worse.

Hans got to the point, “I actually requested to talk to Henry? Is he not here?”

“No, he’s sick. He was actually feeling quite unwell after the show yesterday. I hope you’ll forgive him if he acted a little off.” Bartosch didn’t falter even slightly as he said something Hans knew to be a lie.

“You two seem close.” Hans prodded.

“We are. He’s my friend.” Bartosch responded with a warm smile, Hans hoped that was a lie as well.

“Then, when you see him again, tell him I hope he feels better soon.” Hans turned back to the gate, then added as he slipped outside; “And that I’d like to talk to him.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

I think John is going to be in the next chapter ^o^

Thank you to my partner for editing this <3

Chapter 3: Act 3

Summary:

Henry and Hans' first time together.

Notes:

This took wayyyyyy longer than I meant it to, I'm sorry
In my defence, it's pretty long?
Also I lied, SamJohn happening next chapter, the smut in this chapter went longer than I expected it to.
Enjoy reading!

“Henry? You’re back earlier than expected. Not scared of the lord’s wrath?” Bartosch smirked as he leant against a waist-high fence in the theatre grounds.

“Hm. You make him sound like god.” Henry walked up to join him. He lent with his elbows on the fence, facing the stage on the other side. He watched as one of the few other people around, repainted a backdrop.

“He certainly acts that important.” Bartosch turned around too, watching where Henry was watching. “He already stopped by, looking for you. He wished you well and wanted to talk.”

Henry turned his head and blinked at him, “When?”

Bartosch continued, “Yesterday. He came by in the evening, but we didn’t have a show on, so he didn’t stay long.”

Henry straightened his back, tensing awkwardly, “What did you tell him?”

“I said you were feeling unwell, that you were a bit delirious the night before.” Bartosch answered, Henry’s stiffness making him hesitant.

“Shit.” Henry responded.

Bartosch quirked his head, “Henry?”

Henry squinted and rubbed the back of his neck, “Thing is… he came by the forge before that. He knows I’m not sick.”

“I see…” Bartosch nodded slowly in understanding.

Henry continued, looking back at the stage, “We couldn’t really talk, but he didn’t call for the guards either. In fact, he seemed… almost- kind.”

Bartosch smirked again and leaned a little closer to Henry, “hmmm… does that mean what I think it means…”

“Well, I dunno… maybe? Is that… ok?” Henry looked at Bartosch shyly.

Bartosch’s face softened, “Of course it is Henry. I’m still not sure if you should trust him, but you don’t need to hold back on my account.” Bartosch looked at the dirt beyond the fence, “You know I can’t… If he can take care of you in ways I can’t, I wish you nothing but happiness.”

Henry looked at him with concern, “And who will look after you.”

He gave a weak smile back at Henry, “Ah, you know me. I look after myself.”

Henry risked brushing his pinkie against Bartosch’s, he responded by putting his hand over Henry’s, shielding it from view. It was private, but not shy.

 

A couple of days later, Hans heard a familiar voice at his gate while grooming his horse.

“But I’m here to speak to Lord Capon!” Henry growled.

Hans caught a tangle with the brush, he worked though it as he listened.

The guard at the gate barked back, “I know, but I haven’t been told we are having any visitors and besides, I don’t take orders from him, I take my orders from Lord Hanush.”

Hans defeated the knot, but didn’t run the brush through again.

“Can’t you just ask him-” He pleaded.

The guard replied staunchly, “No, I’m not about to bother a lord because of some vagabond.”

Hans put the brush down on a stool. He didn’t want the guard to know about his dalliances with commoners, but he wasn’t about to let it come to violence either. He needed to be ready to step in.

He was relieved when Henry just gave a frustrated sigh, “Ugh fine, there’s no point in this.” Then presumably left, as Hans heard nothing more.

Hans slipped down the side of the house, and out the much smaller gate around the back. “I’m going for a walk; I won’t be gone long.” He muttered to the guard as he passed.

He walked, fast, taking the side streets to avoid being seen by the front gate’s guard. It took a while, eyes scanning the passersby; but he glimpsed Henry walking away and had to speed up to a near-run to catch him.

Henry didn’t notice at first, still irritated by the interaction with the guard, his feet hit the ground hard and he looked straight ahead vacantly, like he was lost in his thoughts.

“Henry?” Hans was only trying to announce his presence, but Henry looked so startled he almost tripped and fell.

“Lord Capon?” He said looking at him wide-eyed as he recovered from his near-fall.

Hans tried to soften his voice, conveying that he meant no harm, “You can just call me Hans… well, ‘Sir Hans,’ of course.”

“Oh, y-yes lo- I mean, sir Hans.” Henry’s voice slowly lost its panic and returned to normal.

Hans took a couple of steps in the direction henry and been headed, and beckoned, “Walk with me.”

Henry followed, letting silence reign for a moment before he prodded, “You wanted to talk?”

Hans smiled at him, his usually cheery tone taking over, “I did, but I wasn’t expecting you to be bold enough to show up at my gate. I figured you would wait for me to attend a show.”

“Well, I did, sir. We had a show on yesterday and you didn’t show up. I was worried I’d scared you off or something. You love the shows so much, and you’re a big reason we can even afford to put them on, I felt terrible.” Henry rubbed his hands together, downturned eyes like a guilty man.

Hans chuckled, “You? Scare me off?” he sighed, “I didn’t intend to miss the show, I must’ve lost track of the days, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Oh? If it’s not too presumptuous, is there… anything I can help with?” Henry eyebrow quirked and something wicked pulled up the side of his lips.

Hans paused a moment, watching Henry to decipher if he was indeed implying what he thought he might be. Henry’s gaze held steady, almost hopeful. Hans breathed out, not realising he had been holding his breath, “Perhaps. Some of it, at least… depending on how bold you are.”

Henry scoffed, “Well, I’m an actor sir. You know I’m not shy.”

Hans could feel the sweat on his palms and on the back of his neck. He swallowed and looked around at the people shuffling around them, “This isn’t the place. If you’re as bold as you claim… Come back when it’s dark; I’ll mark my window, don’t be seen.”

Henry’s eyes went wide, unable to mask his grin, “O-of course.” Henry stammered as Hans had already peeled off to head home.

Hans’ heart was pounding in his chest harder than a smith’s hammer. He felt like he was floating, half-excitement, half fear. His mind was still wrapping around what he’d just done, inviting a man he barely knew to break into his private chamber in the dark of night. Yet, he felt like he needed to know, before the inevitable happened, time was running out for him.

 

Henry stopped at home; he had enough time to pack some supplies before he headed out. He dressed in dark clothes, a black cloak and a dagger on his belt. A small pouch of ‘just in case’ potions, ointments and oils.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, he wasn’t sure what Hans expected either, but he was willing to do any task uttered by those soft lips.

Back at Hans’ estate, it wasn’t hard to find an unguarded patch of the wall and climb over. The stone walls were evocative of a castle, but they were hardly built to keep out attackers. Henry looked up and there it was, on the top floor; a room lit by candlelight, golden cloth hanging from the window. Below the window was a trellis that plants seemed to struggle to cling to. He crept across the courtyard, it wasn’t difficult, there were only a couple of guards; their attention was on the perimeter, not the courtyard. The trellis had seen better days, but he was relieved to see crushed vines on the tops of the wooden slats. He wasn’t the first to use it as a ladder, which meant it was probably safe. Hopefully.

One last, cautious glance around to check for guards and he began his ascent. About halfway up, he saw Hans peek down at him. Henry looked up and let his hood fall back to reveal his face. He kept climbing, knowing now that Hans knew he was coming.

When he got to the top, Hans was waiting to help him over the windowsill with a strong arm.

Once Henry was inside, he froze in awe. He’d never seen such a richly decorated chamber. Scattered candles lit up a big bookshelf full of well-loved books full of knights, princesses and sieges. Furs cushioned their feet, warm and welcoming. Intricately carved furniture against every wall, the bed, dresser, washstand all matching. Yet the room was still overshadowed by the figure who stood in its centre. Golden hair only ever so slightly messy after a day’s wear, nothing but a shirt on, barely long enough to reach the tips of his fingers when his arms were down; muscly, yet lean legs on full display. It was all Henry could do not to drop to his knees in worship right there and then.

Hans seemed to notice his staring, he tugged at the hem of his shirt and nervously laughed, “You look quite roguish… come to ravish me in the night?”

Henry stepped backwards and stuttered, “What? I’d never- you invited me-”

“Its alright, Henry. It’s only a joke.” He sat on his bed, beckoning for Henry to take a seat next to him. “Though… you came at great risk to yourself, don’t you want a reward?”

Henry’s throat was too dry to speak, so he just nodded eagerly and obediently.

Hans put a hand on his cheek, drawing him into a gentle kiss.

Henry leaned in fully, taking all that Hans offered, but nothing more.

When Hans pulled away from him, he whispered, “Thank you for coming.”

Henry looked at Hans, eyes already clouded by lust, fighting every instinct he had to stop himself from going back for another kiss, to stop his hands from wondering up his thighs, to stop himself from pressing him down against the bed. “What- do you want me to do?” Henry’s words sounded heavy, more like begging than asking.

Hans voice hitched as he swallowed, “W-well, I guess… I feel a bit underdressed, could you take yours off too?”

Henry nodded and eagerly stripped himself, leaving his clothes where they fell. Hans watched him curiously and once he was done, he crawled back on to the bed.

Hans reached out and put a careful hand on Henry’s chest, his finger parting Henry’s short but thick chest hair.

Henry let him take his time, his fingers absentmindedly brushing against the fine hairs on Hans’ thigh.

Hans pushed his Hand up, resting on the side of Henry’s neck. He drew him in again for another kiss as he slowly lent backwards on his bed.

Henry leaned in, pushing his hand further up Hans’ thigh, under his shirt, finding purchase on his waist. He lowered him slowly, gently. Henry wasn’t sure how else to treat an angel.

When Hans’ head hit the pillow, when there was no where left for him to go, Henry kissed him deeper.

Henry got lost, taking the gentle hand on his neck as permission to continue as he freely explored his companion’s mouth. Hans offering no resistance at all, he surrendered completely, without even a word.

Hans whimpered and he felt his hand flex and push lightly against his neck. Henry pulled back and Hans gasped for air. He was about to apologize but Hans’ expression stole the words from his mouth. It was a desperate, dark look, a look that said, that wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

The look made him concerned; he was worried Hans wouldn’t set boundaries even if he needed them. Henry asked; still catching his own breath, almost panting, “Are you sure about this? It is your first time with a man, isn’t it? Are you sure you want it to be with me.”

Hans breathed heavy, his cheeks, neck, shoulders and chest all flushed red, “Of course- it’s not like anyone else has offered.” He didn’t meet Henry’s eyes as spoke, sounding impatient, almost irritated.

Henry nodded, pulling Hans’ legs apart and situating himself between them. Then he waited, not willing to go any further without explicit permission. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, sir?”

Hans looked startled for a moment, perhaps what was about to happen finally clicked. He relaxed slowly nodding, still slightly hesitant, then asking softly, “D-does it hurt?”

Henry smiled slightly, understanding the nervousness as he had felt it before too, “Uh no, not if I’m careful- I brought some things that can help-” He eagerly fished around off the side of the bed for the pouch he’d brought.

Hans interrupted him, firmly, “There’s no need. You don’t need to be gentle, we aren’t lovers.”

Henry’s heart wrenched, worried that Hans was starting to regret choosing him. He was sure Hans could hear his voice breaking as he responded as gently as he could, “Of course, sir, but- it’s still your first time, it can to some real damage if you aren’t prepared-”

Hans snapped, “Fine- but only do as much as is necessary.” He closed his eyes, eyebrows still furrowed, face still strained.

“Alright.” Henry licked his own fingers, making sure they were wet enough, then pressed one finger in. Hans shuddered and grumbled in discomfort as he felt the muscles tense around his finger. As he waited for Hans to relax, he leaned down, gently coaxing his legs onto his shoulders so that he could better attend to the sensitive flesh between them. Hans’ eyes fluttered, as if looking at Henry was like looking at the sun; curiosity making it impossible not to look, but more than a second at a time and he’d be in too much pain. Even once he had mostly settled in, Hans was still clenched tight, fistfuls of the blanket below him and the strained look on his face to match. Henry kissed the sensitive skin on his inner thigh and whispered as gently as he could, “Relax.”

Hans grumbled in protest, but Henry could see him react, his cock starting to lift up the bottom of his shirt by itself, peeking out as shy as a bathing nun. He finally felt the muscles relax, so Henry looked up innocently as he put in a second finger, earning a strained moan as Hans’ muscles tensed again.

Henry once again stilled his fingers and let Hans adjust.

Hans covered his face with his arm and Henry took the opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere and let him be shy for a little. He used his free hand to push up his shirt, revealing Hans’ cock fully. He kissed the sensitive skin around it, eventually making his way to the shaft then to the rosy tip. He kissed it sweetly first, with all the reverence that was demanded by such a beautiful thing, then opened his mouth and took him in.

He had barely taken the head into his mouth when Hans’ hips bucked and he heard a panicked “No-”

Henry jumped back, looking up at Hans like a dog that had just been scolded.

Hans scrambled to gather his words, his already flushed face getting redder and redder, “I-if you do that I’ll- it’ll be over too soon, we won’t even get to-”

Henry’s knowing smile returned, “It’s alright, I know what I’m doing. We’ll get to it sir, trust me.”

Hans nodded hesitantly and sunk back into pillow. Henry slowly put his mouth back on the cock, moving up and down slowly and gently. He was careful not to do too much, just enough to ease Hans’ tenseness as he began to use his fingers to slowly stretch him.

Henry felt Hans arch his back, bucking his hips and chasing Henry’s mouth every time he took his lips off him.

He glanced up and saw Hans covering his mouth with both hands to stifle his moans. While it delighted Henry to see this side of Hans, so bashful and submissive, he was worried he hadn’t done enough to ease him.

When he decided Hans was stretched enough, he delighted at being able to crawl back up on top of him.

He hovered over the top of him, hands planted either side of his head. Hans shrunk away from him, grasping his shirt with both hands and closing his eyes tightly.

Henry tried to kiss him again, but he pulled his shirt up higher, covering his mouth. He was too tense about what was about to happen.

Henry kissed his forehead instead and said with gentle concern, “You need to relax, or you’ll hurt both of us.”

Hans swallowed and nodded. Henry had to trust he understood.

Henry had been completely ignoring himself until now, but watching the ‘lord’ blush and squirm below him had made him more than ready. He held himself up with one hand as he used the other to position himself, smearing his own precum on Hans to ease his way inside. He pushed in with a grunt, Hans was still too tight, he hoped he hadn’t hurt him.

Hans legs wrapped around Henry’s waist feet resting on his back. He still clung to his shirt, eyes avoiding looking at Henry at all costs.

Henry couldn’t help it, he wanted Hans to see him, to pay attention to him. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he shifted suddenly, lifting Hans up by the hips slightly and forcing him to let go of his shirt to balance himself. Henry took his chance and pinned his hands beside him.

Henry looked down at him, intense and hungry. Hans looked back up to him, vulnerable and a little surprised, but his eyes glimmered with something hopeful peeking through the shame.

Henry started to move while Hans was pinned, enjoying watching Hans with nowhere to hide. Every shudder and barely-stifled moan the result of Henry’s hips.

Eventually, Henry needed to pick up the pace, he let go of Hans’ wrists and leaned in close, only holding himself up on one elbow.

It only took a couple deeper thrusts for Hans to wrap his arms around Henry. As Henry moved faster, Hans buried his head into his shoulder. It encouraged Henry to do the same.

Henry moved his free hand in between them, stroking Hans’ cock to his rhythm. The closer they got, the stronger Hans was clinging to him, nails digging into Henry’s flesh as he started supporting Hans’ weight more than the bed beneath him. “If you hold me like that- I won't be able to- when the time comes-” He grunted.

Hans nuzzled in closer and dug his nails into Henry’s back as he mumbled, “Just do it inside.”

He could feel Hans was close, he had little restraint left when moaning into his ear. Henry’s ear was burning at the sound, tension building, but he was determined to make Hans cum first.

Bartosch had taught him well, he could hold it back for a while, but he needed to hurry Hans up. Going deeper, faster, all the while stroking him from the front, it didn’t take much to tip Hans over the top, letting out a ragged cry as he spilt, Henry let himself cum finally as he fucked through Hans’ orgasm.

Even after, Hans held tightly onto Henry, His legs had fallen away, his hips had dropped, but his body was still begging him not to leave. Henry, with as little adjustment as he could manage, lay beside him. He didn’t speak, he didn’t want to rush him, he wanted to let him process it all in his own time.

Hans only stayed there until his breathing steadied, and his strength came back. Then he ripped himself away and sat up in a hurry, letting his shirt fall down and cover him again. “Th-thank you.” He muttered so quietly, Henry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it.

Henry stayed in place, watching him curiously as he himself stayed sprawled naked across the bed.

Hans shuffled around, searching for something on the table beside him, eventually turning back to Henry with a full coin pouch in his hand.

He passed it to Henry who took it, looking back at Hans with confusion as he rambled, “I don’t know how much you usually get paid, so if this is insufficient, I can get more-”

Henry’s mind took a second to catch up, but when it did, he couldn’t hide the offence in his voice, “Hang on- I didn’t do this for money. I’m not a whore.”

Hans blinked back at him, face rapidly turning red, “What? I mean- you’re an actor and you were so forward- I just thought…” Hans looked lost for a moment, “You mean- you just- wanted to? With me?”

Henry couldn’t stay mad at him, the utter disbelief in Hans’ voice made his heart hurt. “Well, I could tell you were interested in me at the play… you’re beautiful and I get the impression there’s a lot more to you than most people get to see. I was curious, it seems you were too” Henry smiled warmly, but Hans turned his gaze downward.

His voice soft and distant, Hans replied, “Isn’t that true of everyone? You’re an actor, you should know.”

“True, but despite what you seem to think, I don’t want to shag everyone.” Henry teased, tossing the coin purse back and offering a cheeky smile that lightened the mood again.

Hans gave a self-deprecating laugh, “What can I say? My apologies, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite so bold.”

“…and that’s a good thing? You like bold men?” Henry leaned over and put a hand on his.

Hans looked at the hand for a second, before turning his around to hold it, “Yes… I do…”

Henry grinned cheekily again, “Don’t suppose you’d want to go for another round then?”

Hans pulled his hand away and laughed, “Ha! I’m still not sure what damage that enormous cock of yours has done to me. I think we better leave it there for tonight.” He put the coin purse away again.

“I’ll be able to see you again though?” Henry latched on to his words, hopeful and tender.

“Yes… soon, I hope.” Hans stood and staggered over to the basin, washing himself with a wet cloth as he continued, “My uncle is going away for a while, so hopefully you can use the door next time. Speaking of, when you’re feeling up to it- I’m afraid you’re going to have to sneak out, tonight. You can’t get caught here.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can sneak out while you’re sleeping if you’d like to not fall asleep alone.” Henry tilted his head, offering freely.

Hans looked back, his face softening slightly, “If that’s a serious offer-”

“It is.” Henry gave a sure nod.

“Then, yes. I’d like that.” Hans dunked the cloth in the water once more, then squeezed it so it was damp but not dripping, then turned around to menace it at Henry. “But not while you’re covered in- that. Come here.” He joked, his whole face lighting up.

“Yes, my lord.” Henry smiled and obeyed, walking right up to Hans and letting him dab at him with the cloth. It was cold, it turned his skin to bumps. Hans seemed to notice, he worked as fast as he could, then lead him back to the warm bed.

“Thank you, for all of tonight. I really didn’t think this would be something I ever got to experience.” Hans settled, just close enough to share the warmth of their body heat.

Henry thought for a moment, before letting a question he'd been holding onto for a while, fall from his lips, “Why? You’re a Noble aren’t you. Can’t you do what you want?”

Hans gave a bitter and empty smile, “Hm… did that ‘Bartosch’ of yours give you that impression? It seems like he sure does as he likes…”

“Bartosch? He’s not- I mean, we aren’t…” Henry trailed off, he wasn’t sure what they weren’t, or what they were, for that matter.

Hans looked up, meeting Henry’s eyes as if he’d answered a question that had been tormenting him. “Well, that’s- good.” He said, under his breath, as if it wasn’t intentional.

“Turn around, sir.” Henry said plainly.

“What? I said I can’t go again-” Hans said, panic tinging his voice.

Henry smiled again; gently, calmly, “That’s not what this is, just, trust me, sir.”

Hans hesitated a moment, but did as Henry asked. He turned around and Henry moved, pressing himself right up against his back. Blacksmith’s arms wrapped around an archer’s waist, safe, warm. Henry’s breath warmed the back of his neck.

Hans was silent for a moment, then Henry heard a choked, “Thank you.” that soon turned into quiet sobs as Hans found one of Henry’s hands and pulled it to his chest, holding it tightly.

Henry wasn’t sure what to do, so he just held him. It was clear he wanted him to stay, so he did, until Hans was asleep.

Notes:

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :D
I'll try to get the next one up a lot sooner.
Thank you to my partner for editing again <3
Oh and I've started to make a playlist for this fic on Spotify, if anyone is interested. (its not very long, I'm still adding to it)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ck81EW1GoDsAejQmlHunf?si=6DbHNj_SREWvJm8LcM-Tvw&pi=LursmrQ-SweU6

Notes:

sooo I haven't decided if this is going to be Henry and Hans or Henry, Hans and Bartosch. I originally only put Bartosch there for conflict, but I kinda love him and Henry?? We'll see how it goes.

Also, I'll be updating warnings and tags as I go, but there's likely to be a suicide attempt and/or a murder because that's Shakespeare, idk

Also, also, I'll be working on updates as fast as I can, but kudos and nice comments motivate me a lot, so I'd appreciate hearing about it if you want more :D

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you have a wonderful day.