One Winter Evening

Beraht was still shivering as he reached his room, and fumbled with the handle briefly before he realized the door was actually locked. He knew what that meant, and the thought improved his mood a bit.

Until it plummeted back down in a moment of panic when he couldn’t find his key – then he remembered that he’d tucked it into his boot on the chance his jacket did not survive his afternoon with Benji and two of his friends. Rolling his eyes, he retrieved the key and unlocked the bedroom door.

The sight that greeted him was very much a welcome one after his grueling day of chasing after three tireless, mischievous young boys through the woods. On horseback.

Dieter never said, as it just was not in his nature to voice such things, but Beraht knew that one of the things he sorely missed from his homeland was the massive public baths (though Dieter, even hated as he’d been, had ranked a private one). Given that Dieter would never be described as small, Beraht could see where the individual tubs that were the style in Illussor would not suit him.

The one in which he bathed now had been custom made to suit Dieter, and could easily accommodate two Wolves.

Currently Dieter stood in the center of it, facing the roaring fire which kept back the winter chill. The flickering flames turned his skin dark, drops of water resembling beads of orange light where they caught the fire. Soap and water ran down his body as Dieter rinsed it away, tracing and emphasizing every last bit of finely honed and sculpted muscle.

Beraht stood, more than content to watch, especially the way those broad shoulders moved, the muscles pulling and rippling as Dieter moved to rinse away all the soap, then scrub and rinse his silver-touched black hair.

Headiest of all, more enthralling than even that fine form that he alone saw and touched so, was the fact that the entire time Dieter stood with his back to Beraht. The silent display of implicit trust took his breath away.

Dieter finally turned, a familiar smirk shaping his mouth. Slowly he sat down and stretched out in his massive tub. “I see Benji and his friends did not kill you.”

“Nearly,” Beraht said with a grimace. “I see you are cruel enough to make servants fetch you endless buckets of water in this miserable weather.”

“No,” Dieter said, face clouding briefly. “Two fresh soldiers who disobeyed one too many orders fetched my water, and will be doing it until spring thaw.”

Beraht almost winced in sympathy, but fetching water for the winter was rather a mild punishment. He knew exactly how punishing Dieter could be.

Stifling a groan of pain, he moved to the table near Dieter’s tub and sat down to begin the laborious process of removing his winter riding boots. He could not completely hide a wince as his body warmed and every last ache and pain began to present itself in full.

He dropped the boots to the floor and then stripped down to his smallclothes, not quite willing to sit entirely nude despite his proximity to the fire. Stars, he hated winter. “Did you kill your soldiers with your winter training?” He moved to the edge of the tub and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Dieter, fighting a yawn. A bath sounded good…but so did just falling over and going to sleep…

“Nearly,” Dieter said smugly. “They are shaping up well enough.”

Beraht saw the glint in Dieter’s eyes a moment too late. “Don’t you—” He hit the water with a splash, legs knocking hard against the rim before he found himself settled on Dieter’s lap, legs propped on the edge of the tub. “—Dare,” he finished uselessly.

Laughter rumbling in his chest, Dieter roughly seized Beraht’s hair and tilted his head for a kiss, taking his mouth forcefully, extracting a response Beraht hadn’t thought he had the energy to give.

Dieter’s free hand smoothed over his skin and the wet fabric clinging to it.

Beraht tore his mouth away. “You could have let me finish undressing,” he said.

Chuckling, Dieter began to strip his clothes away, tossing them over the side, then shifting Beraht until he straddled Dieter’s thighs. The water lapped at his skin, coming up to mid-chest. It was hot, still gently steaming, but not nearly as hot as the man he was pressed against.

Firm fingers ran along his right thigh, lingering on a fist-sized bruise right in the center of it. “What happened here?” Dieter asked, pressing lightly against the bruise, making Beraht hiss. “This isn’t one of mine.”

“Benji,” Beraht said, torn between Dieter and exhaustion.

He rested his forehead on Dieter’s shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around Dieter’s neck. The soap Dieter used held a faint scent of winter forest, cool and sharp, in complete contrast with the warmer, deeper scent that was only Dieter. Idly Beraht nipped at the shoulder he rested upon, feeling the muscle twitch and move beneath him.

Fingers dug hard and firm into the sore muscles of his legs – but not in taunt or arousal. Beraht groaned loudly as Dieter’s ministrations ruthlessly worked out the knots in his muscles, moving from his legs to his back, seemingly everywhere until Beraht realized he did not feel half so miserable as he had before.

Somehow the water never seemed to cool, though it could only be that Dieter seemed immune to any form of cold.

As his soreness eased, the tone of Dieter’s touches shifted. They became harder, rougher, nothing about them relaxing. Instead, they knotted Beraht up in an entirely different way. He shuddered as fingers dug into his hips, reminding him that while the bruise on his thigh did not belong to Dieter, all the others on his body most certainly did.

“Bastard,” he said softly, then bit down hard on Dieter’s shoulder before moving to attack his throat. He broke off with a groan as fingers traced his spine in an all-too-knowing manner, shuddering exactly as Dieter had known he would. He could feel the vibrations of Dieter’s smug laughter and bit hard at his throat in retaliation, earning a brief shiver of his own.

He swore again as he was shifted enough that Dieter could press one finger inside him, digging his nails into Dieter’s back. “Stars refused—” A calloused hand wrapped around his cock and Beraht broke off with a deep moan, lost between the two sensations.

Fumbling for a better grip, he slid his hands from Dieter’s wet skin to grasp the edge of the tub just past his shoulders. “Dieter—” Despite himself, he began to ride the two fingers now shoved inside him, moaning at the way they stretched and twisted.

Then the fingers were gone, and Beraht bit back a moan that would make Dieter entirely too smug. Before he could protest, the fingers were replaced by a hard heat. His cries and groans were taken by Dieter’s sudden hard and hungry kiss. Beraht gave it back full measure, not letting it break until his lips were bruised and sore and he knew Dieter’s were the same.

He lifted one hand from the tub to bury it in Dieter’s thick hair, tugging hard enough to make Dieter grunt, but not enough to break the next devouring kiss or the rhythm of their fucking.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, he began to move at a driving pace, water splashing around them as he thrust into the hand still stroking him then back down on Dieter’s cock.

It was too much for him to last long, and he came with a shout that Dieter swallowed in another dizzying kiss.

Exhaustion crashed down hard over him as the world once more calmed, but it was not nearly as tense and unhappy an exhaustion as it had been before. He once again rested his head against Dieter’s shoulder, looping his arms back around Dieter’s neck.

He started to make some provoking remark, but the words instead came out a deep yawn. Keeping his eyes open was becoming a bothersome chore.

Distantly he heard Dieter say something, or perhaps he was merely laughing, and then he heard nothing more.