Chapter Text
Whenever Hans found himself in a situation in need of someone to be blamed, most of the time, he naturally hoped he out of all people would be exempt from it.
But unfortunately for him, this was not one of those times.
The end of their hunting trip was nigh, his body carried all the closer back to Castle Pirkstein, and yet his usual suspect to take the blame for all his misfortunes – Uncle Hanush – had in fact inadvertently saved his life by sending that insolent blacksmith’s boy on his hunting trip with him. And as for the deeds of the blacksmith’s boy, they obviously spoke for themselves.
In the end, Henry really had turned out to be more reliable than a mere distraction and source of gossip from the peasantfolk. If nothing else, he turned out to be quite the marksman and stealther.
So alas, this time, the blame of this particular disaster would fall entirely on young Lord Capon’s own two shoulders, something he surely would have to admit out of sheer honour alone once he was to be returned behind the cold protective walls of Pirkstein, whether it ended up wounding his pride or not.
Losing both his horse and two of his royal hunting hounds in one fell swoop was a deed not even Hans thought himself capable of, yet nearly losing his life to those barbaric Cumans may have topped it all, were it not for his newly appointed page who had gracefully cut him loose and aided him in his dire escape.
But at the same time, who could have guessed those Cuman bastards to be as bold enough as to set up camp so close to castle grounds?
It was madness as much as it was certain proof of how much the country of Bohemia had fallen since King Charles’ departure from life – that was, if what had happened to Skalitz wasn’t proof enough.
“How are you holding up, my lord?”
It was when the two of them were about halfway back to Pirkstein when Henry asked him, his breath as exhausted as young Lord Capon’s.
The boy had been carrying him all this way, yet at the same time, did so with arms Hans thought were surprisingly well trained for what he had believed a blacksmith’s skills to be worth for.
“Not great,” Hans replied with heavy eyes before he let out an exasperated groan. “I feel like my head’s going to kill me,” he added.
His face was bloodied and bruised nearly beyond recognition, his right eye swollen and his lip busted open after many a blow he received from his savage captors.
The sun was already threatening to set behind them beyond the distant forests, and yet, Hans’ steps became less and less motivated to keep going nonetheless. Less steady.
For once, Hans wished he had stopped caring about putting that blacksmith’s boy in his place and had simply given him a horse as well. At least then, they might have been able to ride that horse back to the castle instead. However, with how things had turned out now, Hans was but a mere hair’s breadth away from fainting with how long he’d been forced to stand and limp on his feet despite the injuries he’d retained from his Cuman attackers.
Like a gnat over a sweltering pond, Hans’ vision kept darting about over the meadows and fields, blurry and aimless. His feet struggled to place even one step before the other as he had to start leaning his entire weight into the blacksmith’s boy just to keep himself from collapsing.
Henry let out several faint grunts, his arms and legs slowly starting to shake against the weight and heat of the young lord’s body. “Should we perhaps… take a rest, m’lord?” Henry asked in between strained huffs, his breath as erratic as a messenger’s without a horse.
“And leave ourselves exposed while those Cuman scum are still up and about in those damned woods? I’d hope not!” Hans protested with his eyes already shut from exhaustion.
The haunting image of those sodomite savages slowly creeping up on them from afar was in his mind ever so vividly. Hans especially did not want to fall back into their hands.
“Now stop dawdling and get moving! That’s—that’s an order, you hear?”
Despite his best attempts however, Hans’ voice carried the authority of a man who was half-talking in his sleep. His words were slurred, nearly drunken, as he felt the world toppling around him instead of the other way around.
Were it not for Henry’s surprising agility in catching him, Hans would have found himself in the road face-first, his mind delirious.
He was sitting in the dirt and writhing in his newly appointed page’s arms almost in a poisoned stupor.
Strange, he thought. I didn’t think they'd gotten me this badly…
The entire world around him appeared to be spinning in his delirium, almost as if to amuse him, and yet, once his body had sufficiently heated up, it didn’t take long until there was no mistaking as to what was truly happening to him.
Out of sheer habit alone, Hans nearly ordered Henry to go fetch his satchel from his horse’s saddlebag before he remembered how it had run for the hills, abandoning him without his noble steed nor the potions he usually required to immediately subdue his more and more common nymph spells.
This is bad, Hans thought to himself. This is the worst that could have possibly come out of this.
Hans knew there would only be a small window of time left for him before he would lose all sense and reason to the irrational spirits of lust in possession of his body, so he needed to come up with something to save himself quickly.
“N-no, I can’t—We need to keep going,” Hans said, mainly to himself, as he tried to blink his eyes open and get back up onto his feet, yet did so to minimal results, before his body already forced him into a state of complete and utter mayhem.
He was burning from the inside, yet felt cold and empty at the same time as his mind was commanding him to whine and beg for the nearest cock to defile him, to take him straight to that sinful paradise.
However, Hans bit his tongue hard. He wouldn’t be humiliated in front of this peasant boy if he could help it. Fought against those urges as hard as he could and for as long as he could.
“M-my lord, what’s happening? God, that—that smell…” Henry’s eyes widened in shock, yet at the same time, relaxed in an instant as he took one good whiff of that nearly saccharine scent that suddenly surrounded him. He instantly recognised it, not from firsthand experience perhaps, but from tales told many a time before by old friends in Skalitz – God rest their souls. “You… you’re a nymph?”
There was a shiver running down Hans’ back like pins and needles. His stomach and chest twitching and convulsing in both shame and a steadfast neediness. It pained him to admit it; he hasn’t admitted his condition to anyone in such a long time, it almost felt as if he in fact had never done so before now.
Hans nodded.
“You… you need to get me back h-home… n-now.”
The young lord gritted his teeth, his breath hot and filled with desire as he could not help but bury his bruised and bloodstained face in his page’s warmth like a feline.
It had been quite some time since Hans had the misfortune of feeling a nymph spell to this extreme extent. With Dollmaker’s potions usually having been his one and only saving grace to help him through all of those years with a minimal amount of undignified incidents, yet now, those potions were completely out of his reach.
It was all for the peasant boy to decide whether or not Hans would be suffering for much longer, his page’s duty to safely deliver the young lord back home.
That was, until Hans could feel the blacksmith’s boy starting to tremble under his needy touches, in a way that was entirely beneath his station.
“B-by God… H-have you no self-control?” the young lord protested, yet couldn’t stop his own moans and whimpers from slipping past his lips as he felt those Heaven-sent touches of Henry’s reciprocating his.
“I—I can’t…” Henry confessed with a shaky breath. “I don’t know what’s happening to me… I… I’m—”
Henry looked as little in control of his own mind as Hans was. He was trembling both with fear as much as with pleasure, of neediness. And that's when it hit Hans all at once.
Hans couldn’t help but let out a low groan, doing so nearly at the same time he gasped out in pleasure as soon as he felt those rough hands of his page move up underneath his quilted coat like scalding iron.
Out of all the ways Uncle Hanush could have punished his ward, unbeknownst to even him, he ended up siccing a whole satyr on him. A peasant satyr who had been willfully unaware of even his own nature.
Kurva. Blast it all…
In the end, it was a situation none could possibly hope to salvage, wasn’t it?
It was quicker than a bathwench yet messier and much needier than one, the way both Hans and his page’s hose and braies came off as they desperately worked each other out of their bottom halves at the side of the road.
Every touch upon his body, every brush of calloused fingertips against his sensitive skin made Hans mad with pleasure, made him burn up with the desire for more.
“F-fuck! Y-yes! Please!” Hans was whimpering as soon as Henry’s fingertips found their way past Hans’ slick sphincter and into his arsehole – as if the young lord had actually liked it. As if he would actually choose to do this had he been of a sound mind.
Hans would not, of course, but his body left him with little choice over the matter.
Neither of their bodies did.
The way Henry’s fingers were moving, managing to hit those sweet spots inside of him that made the young lord gasp and writhe in pleasure, it was as if Henry had already had plenty of experience with the pleasures of sodomy before, were it not for the fact that Hans had well learned how many satyr men had sodomy in their blood without even realising it themselves.
Hans was both burning up alive as well as being senselessly struck by that uncanny sensation like lightning. A sensation his body had craved so many times for so long and yet never knew how it had felt up until this very day.
In all of his life, he had never had anyone to actually bend to his desperate demands during a spell of his. Let alone did he ever expect to be at the mercy of a satyr while he was being cast into one; satyrs usually came as rare as did his kind, after all. But now that he knew how this long craving finally felt once fulfilled, it was as if his whole body was set ablaze.
“Oh, God! F-fuck! Henry!”
“I’m—I’m sorry…”
The moment Henry’s cock finally came crashing down inside of him and into the young lord’s asshole, things only started to get worse in the best possible of ways.
They were both in a spellbind, gasping and moaning as Henry’s hips smacked against Hans’ bottom again and again. Hans was hugging him firmly, wrapping his arms around his page’s neck and hugging his waist with his legs as Henry’s hips ploughed and ploughed into him from above in a brutal rhythm, doing so again and again until neither of them could hold back anymore.
Hans could barely recall how long his page had taken him like this – like a woman – yet when both of them finally came, it was as if Heaven had opened its divine gates for them, no matter how blasphemous it may have actually been.
“I’m coming… I-I’m coming, my lord,” Henry moaned, almost like a prayer of repentance, his brows raised in guilty pleasure before both of their lips clashed against each other, muffling both of their desperate moans into each other’s heated mouths instead.
And despite the pain it caused him and his bleeding lower lip, Hans couldn’t stop his mouth and tongue from lingering in that heated kiss until his blood had thoroughly stained his page’s lips.
I love you.
I love you.
A sudden warmth as well as a shock came over him as soon as he heard these words echoing in his mind towards his squire.
It was the Devil’s work itself to take over his mind in such a manner. To be born a nymph with blue blood and yet nothing but sin in your veins.
Upon both of their orgasms, it took perhaps an entire hour for his page’s orgasm to finally cease. A curse Hans learned only a satyr had to endure when mating with one of Hans’ kind.
And all this time, him and his squire were simply lying at the side of the dirty road. It was a mere miracle no one had spotted them in all this time all the while Henry was perpetually stuck in a limbo of pleasure, his face contorted and his eyes continuously rolled back in ecstasy as he trembled and struggled above Hans throughout his nearly hour-long climax, as his cock continued to pump more and more seed into him as he bit back moan after moan.
For reasons yet unknown to him, Hans’ heart and mind made it impossible for him to want to separate himself from the man above him. The mere thought of early separation seemed nigh painful. Hans couldn’t help but stay right where he was, with Henry’s member lodged deep inside of him until Henry’s spell-induced state had finally come to an end.
Until both of them were finally allowed to breathe.
The silence between them was nigh deafening as Hans felt his squire’s seed spill out of him once Henry’s member grew small enough.
Both of their hearts were beating against each other as they laid on top of one another in absolute silence. As Hans thought about what he should do. How to proceed in a way that would leave his honour as a nobleman intact.
“You can never tell a soul about this, do you understand?” Hans said, his hands resting on the back of his squire’s head as the blacksmith’s boy laid on top of him, fully spent. “Neither Sir Hanush nor Sir Radzig. You are not to speak a word of this to anyone or… or it will be both our ruin.”