Farewell to Hans Capon

For a few moments it was like this—eye to eye—while Hans’s hands had already moved to my shoulders. I waited to see whether any action would follow his words. The crackling of the fire filled the silence, but I still felt the pause like the calm before a storm. Just a little longer. Then I swear I’ll be the one to lunge at him. At last Hans spoke, as if urging himself on: “Come on. Come here.” He drew me toward him, and I sank between his legs, right onto the desire he had been struggling to suppress. We let out a single uneven breath between us. Heat settled low in my body. “How close you are… damn it,” he exhaled into my shoulder. He rolled his hips slowly against me, pulling me into the movement, and the heat between us only grew. I never thought this was in me… But it had always been there. You had always noticed that there was something unspoken between you. Hans seemed like a rival, but turned out to be a friend. Sir in title, yet equal in truth. Not quite a brother, and yet close… And now you finally understood where the boundary between you lay—where your body ended and his began. The only way to find it was to press closer. I smiled at that simple thought born in the haze of revelation, and leaned forward again, trying to close whatever distance still remained. “Hans… I want to be even closer to you.” “Hah, Henry, how much closer can you get?” Hans was trembling slightly under what we were both feeling. I could sense how long he had carried it within himself. He didn’t know what to call me either, but for him it seemed even harder—to want his squire like this, and at the same time his closest, almost only friend, yet never be able to speak of it openly. There was never time, always the wrong moment. One trouble after another, and my companion did not dare waste my attention on such “trifles.” Now that desire was pressing to break free. And even though Hans had promised to stop hiding it, he still behaved almost like a virgin, as if the right to feel it still belonged to me. And there was something beautiful in that—I wanted to give him that right. I wanted to strip Hans bare, to take him in completely, without reserve—my body longed for it. I took his hand and pressed it against my hips. Hans understood me instinctively and brought in his other hand as well, firmly kneading the muscles. I rewarded his effort generously, pressing my lips to his in a kiss. As soon as I gave him a moment to breathe, the man beneath me let out a sensual exhale. “God…” “Oh, the God has nothing to do with this, Hans…” “Yes… He wouldn’t approve,” he managed. “He’s just very jealous,” I teased softly. “Doesn’t want your soul to reach Heaven before your body has even let go.” Hans gave a faint laugh, but he was no longer able to respond. In his eyes, I could read only a plea to continue. I went on. “Henry…” “Yes?” “I’m… coming…” “Already?” “Mmm…” A wild idea flashed through my mind, and I had only a moment to act on it. I immediately leaned back and took him deeper into my mouth. Hans stared at me wide-eyed, covering his lips in shock, more than in any attempt to hold back the broken sounds rising in him. I swallowed everything to the very last drop. “We’re under siege. It would be a shame to let good things go to waste.” Trying to catch his breath, Hans leaned back on the bed. Then, slowly but surely, laughter took him over. He sat up, still laughing, and shifted in front of me, his legs still spread on either side of me. Leaning closer, he asked, slightly dazed: “What did you just do, Henry?” I placed my palms over his knees and licked my lips with a faintly theatrical gesture. “I had dinner.” “Holy Mother of God… practicality as always comes first! That’s the Henry I love.” You remembered how he had once spoken in a similar way. But back then everything had been different. A heavy silence settled between us. Perhaps Hans himself hadn’t wanted it to sound so ambiguous. His lifted mood melted away like the first snow. He looked at me with guilt, as if he had done something wrong again. Without saying anything else, he simply pulled me into an embrace. I answered it. Then, without either of us saying a word, we shifted slightly, pressing closer to each other like birds in the cold, and drifted into oblivion. We gently soothed each other with touch and kisses. Only moments ago we had been friends, and now we were, in some strange way, behaving like lovers. And it felt impossibly right. Ah… how unbearably sweet it is. After this, you could die—how are you supposed to go on living, looking him in the eyes? At some point Hans spoke again. Probably to finish me off completely, stroking my ears with the sound of his warm voice. “You still haven’t finished… How do you want it to be?” “I don’t want to finish.” “You know what I mean…” “How do you want it to be?” “I asked first,” he said, puffing out his lips in a way that was absurdly charming for a grown man. “Use your imagination. I’m sure you’ve already thought of something and just won’t admit it.” “What do you mean ‘again’? I was the one who confessed first, if you remember. When are you going to confess to me, then?” “To what?” My innocent eyes showed complete sincerity. “Do you like this? Male bodies?” I shrugged. If someone had asked me that yesterday, I would have been stunned. “Yours, I like.” Unexpectedly, my answer satisfied Hans. But his next question made me blush. “Then maybe you’ll be the one to take me? It’s been empty in there for so long anyway—there isn’t even any wind left.” I frowned in feigned seriousness to hide my rising interest. So this is how it finally happens—you get to have him. “When did you become so knowledgeable about this? You said you didn’t even plan on kissing me.” “Well, I’m not a saint, Henry. Of course I know how it works.” “And how does it work?” He stared at me wide-eyed, then let out a meaningful sigh. “I’ve got something prepared.” “What?” “Rose oil.” “I wouldn’t use that for this. It will burn.” Who would have thought my knowledge of herbs and essences would be useful for something like this. “It’s diluted anyway… maybe with almond oil. Or olive oil.” “You haven’t drunk it yet?” I asked in confusion, then smiled and shook my head. “You were waiting for me all this time.” “Go to hell, Henry!” Hans snapped with feigned offense, getting up to fetch a tiny bottle from the shelf. “I was actually planning to drink it today.” You hadn’t seen him from this angle before. From this angle, in the dim light. From this angle, with his arousal rising again. From this angle, and with a heart suddenly overflowing with unexpected affection. How good it is that this ill-fated evening before the sortie refuses to end.