Something something you work in the heart of the palace of Del with access to the greatest treasures of the kingdom but you can never touch the one treasure that actually matters without it killing you something something the association made more sense in my head
Some of you may remember that ages ago, I posted some Hartswood short stories & snippets which were then deleted. Good news... they're back 👀
2.7k words, Rated E, contains semi-public blowjobs.
***
The inn was teeming with people, unusually busy for the season. Raff eyed the finer horses being led into the stables, and the carts outside the stone building. It appeared they had arrived at the same time as a retinue, a crowd of people no doubt following some lord in a long, slow march across the country.
He knew from experience that these sorts of parties would likely have sent scouts ahead to secure rooms for as many people as possible. The inn was only a mid-sized building, which meant a pair of travellers like them would be low on the list of people deemed worthy of a bed under the roof this evening. Even the shared quarters in the attic would be packed with servants, battling for space out of the snow.
They’d arrived with the setting sun and had both hesitated as they’d spotted the sizable crowd lingering outside the inn. They were far enough north now that recognition was almost entirely impossible, but a travelling southron lord could put them both at risk. For once, it was Penn who had hesitated on the threshold while Raff had shouldered his way in through the crowd, swallowing back the building anxiety and keeping his eyes ahead, focusing on what needed to be done.
They were in luck, even if his heart was pounding and his head throbbing when he finally made it back out to the courtyard where Penn was attempting to blend into the shadows. The retinue was travelling with a lord from the north eastern coast, a stranger to the county. The inn was indeed completely full, with every bed already claimed, but the owner of the establishment had listened to Raff’s nervous rambling and had offered them space in the hayloft above the stable for a handful of pennies and the promise to keep an eye on the horses.
That, too, was a stroke of luck. The stable was big enough for a dozen horses, but the loft above was tiny. It granted them a place to sleep and a little respite from the freezing weather, but more compelling was the chance for true privacy; a night undisturbed by the presence of strangers.
Penn visibly relaxed when Raff told him of the lord’s travels, uncrossing his arms and loosening his shoulders.
“They’ve no spare beds, though,” Raff added, as Penn bent to grab his pack.
“Typical,” he scowled, straightening. “He brings his entire household staff with him and leaves the rest of us to—”
“The owner offered us the loft above the stables.”
Penn fell silent immediately. “Did he, now?”
“He did.”
There was a brief, loaded pause. “Us and the rest of those dispossessed thanks to his lordship, I presume?”
“No,” Raff tugged his cloak tighter, and began to stride towards the barn. “Just us.”
After a moment, Penn hurried after.
~
The loft was mostly given over to the supplies needed to keep both the inn and stables below running and well-stocked; hay, oats and feed, a handful of crates, barrels containing what Raff assumed was ale. A slightly rickety wooden railing ran from wall to wall, the only thing stopping anyone working on the platform tumbling to the messy straw below, broken only for the space where the ladder rested against the high platform. The free space amounted to little more than a few square yards, but it was more than enough for two bodies sleeping pressed together.
Raff fettled about in the tiny space, throwing down their rolls and cloaks across the scattered hay to make a reasonably comfortable bed on which they could sleep, while Penn headed back to the inn, looking for something to eat. By the time he returned with a linen-wrapped bundle containing half a loaf of bread, a couple of meat tarts and a hunk of cheese, the space wasn’t cosy, but certainly better than remaining outside, and far preferable to the crush of people in the inn.
They leant against the far wall of the barn, the stone cold beneath their backs as they ate. Penn shivered a little as he wiped the crumbs from his hands, pressing to Raff’s side, stealing his warmth. Raff tossed aside the spent scrap of linen before wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. This alone was worth the night in the cold, musty-smelling space; such closeness would have been harder to indulge if they were sharing the room with twenty other people.
Penn was very close. When Raff finally forced himself to stand, Penn followed, wrapping his arms around Raff’s middle from behind and resting his chin on Raff’s shoulder, dancing his lips close to his neck. Raff stilled, leaning into the touch, feeling Penn’s breath tickle across his skin and his fingers sliding across his stomach to tangle in the fabric of his overshirt.
“I should find that lord and thank him,” he muttered, “for so rudely occupying the entire inn.”
“Would he deign to talk to a runaway servant?”
Raff could feel Penn smile against his neck. “I doubt it,” he breathed. “I suppose I shall have to give my thanks to someone more deserving.”
“And who would that be?”
Penn nuzzled closer against him, his lips brushing carelessly against Raff’s earlobe as he let out a shallow laugh. “One of the other servants, perhaps? Or the owner?”
Raff turned in Penn’s arms, tipping his head back to catch Penn’s mouth before he could say anything else. Penn sighed, tugging him closer, humming against his lips. In the cool, quiet space all Raff could hear was the gentle movements of the horses below and the sweetly tempting sounds that escaped Penn’s mouth when he kissed him harder, when he embraced him, dropping his hands to squeeze Penn’s backside through the fabric of his breeches.
"Raff…"
It was only a whisper, almost entirely lost to the air, but it ignited Raff’s skin, curling heat in his chest, flooding his belly. He gripped Penn tighter, intending to fling them down onto the makeshift bed he'd prepared on the straw, but Penn acted first, pushing against him and guiding him backwards till Raff’s back collided with the far wall.
Penn pinned him there, one hand coming up to cup Raff’s jaw and the other snaking beneath his shirt as he pulled back to look at him in the darkness. This close, Penn's height was even more apparent, and even though Raff knew from firsthand experience that he could overpower him, it was easy to forget that when Penn was pressed against him, crowding him against the wall, looking down at him with that hungry expression.
Penn kissed him again, deepening the movement, dragging the tip of his tongue across Raff’s lips, into his mouth. Raff made a low noise as he kissed him back, eager for more, his cock already filling as Penn cupped the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp.
The moan echoed in the ringing space of the barn, and Penn smiled, finally dragging his hand away from Raff’s chest and lower. When his palm came to rest gently against Raff’s crotch, he found him hard in his breeches, and Raff couldn't help but thrust into the touch, desperate for more. Penn pushed harder, squeezing, flattening him against the wall with a smug chuckle.
And then - quite suddenly - the touch was gone and Penn was sliding down onto his knees. He knelt before him, his hands clinging to Raff’s hips and his lips pressed feather-light to the keen bulge of Raff’s prick.
Raff cursed, loud enough to elicit a series of nervous huffs from the horses below.
"May I?"
"Ah—" Raff could barely speak, "Penn, please…"
Penn made quick work of the ties, tugging down the woollen breeches and the thin underclothes beneath, releasing Raff’s cock, throbbing in the cool air. Now he had access, Penn seemed keen to slow, to linger, placing a string of light, dancing kisses up the underside of Raff’s shaft, his breath coming in hot gasps against his over-sensitive skin.
His eyes sliding shut, Raff placed his hand loosely to Penn's head, pillowed against the soft cloud of curls, fingertips twitching. Penn opened his lips against him, tonguing him in a single, slow sweep upwards, then - without a word - took Raff fully in his mouth.
God. Raff swore again, lost to the hot, consuming feeling of Penn's mouth stretched around him. It hadn't been that long since they were last together like this - less than two days, in fact - but just being near Penn made him desperate, every tiny touch sending him closer to the edge of his tightly held control.
Like this he had no control at all as Penn worked him, drawing him out, tugging him along a turbulent current that could only end in one way.
He gasped as Penn pressed his tongue harder against him with a stifled murmur, gripping his hair a little tighter, letting his own head knock back against the stone wall.
And then - ruinously - a sound. A sudden noise from below; the slide of the stable doors opening, the muffled thud of hoofbeats against the straw. Raff froze. Penn released his cock, but didn't move away.
"Penn—" Raff breathed, "We should—"
He felt Penn smile against him. He still didn't pull back, instead placing a soft, short kiss to the tip of his prick. His mouth was warm and wet.
"Shh," he whispered. “Wait…”
The hoofbeats were joined by voices, perhaps two or three people finding space for the animals. A stiff breeze blew up from the open door. Someone down there held a torch, but in their position pressed against the far upper wall the sparse light couldn’t reach them.
At least, Raff hoped it couldn’t reach them.
They were hidden: barely. It would only take a sudden noise - a choked gasp or even the creak of the wood beneath Penn’s knees - to startle the intruders and make them look up. The shadows should conceal them, the angle too sharp for them to be seen, but there was no guarantee, especially if someone below decided to climb the ladder to investigate.
That thought wasn’t as concerning as it should have been. It was late, and cold, and no doubt the people below were hurrying to stable their horses and return to the warmth of the inn as soon as possible. They wouldn’t even look up. They wouldn’t even know he was there, with Penn kneeling in front of him, his hands digging into his hips, his mouth - even now - moving slowly up and down his cock in a trail of maddeningly tight-lipped kisses.
Oh. They wouldn’t know, and that thought was more than a little thrilling. He pressed harder against the wall, feeling himself twitch against Penn’s willing lips. Penn seemed to know what he was thinking.
“Do you want me to stop?”
It was a near-silent whisper, almost entirely obscured by the noise of the men and horses below. Raff peered down, and in the gloom he could see Penn’s dark eyes shining as he looked up at him, but very little else. There was a clatter from beneath the platform. Mumbling voices.
“No.”
A soft noise - somewhere between a hum and a laugh - and then Penn took him in his mouth once more, lapping keenly against his prick, squeezing with his lips. Raff gasped, then realised what he’d done and flung his hand up, biting down against his knuckles to stop himself from making any further noise.
Penn swallowed him down further with a self-satisfied sounding hum that vibrated through his throat, enthusiastically working Raff with his mouth and tongue. He moved swiftly and rhythmically, one hand tightly gripping Raff’s hip while the other danced lower, cupping at his balls, twisting around the base of his cock in tandem with the bobbing of his head. Raff squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on keeping silent, on not crying out Penn’s name.
There was a noise from directly beneath them. A voice. The stamp of hooves. Below, an unknowable number of people were readying their horses for the night, preparing to return to the inn, unwitting invaders to the tight, private cell of pleasure that Raff and Penn had built around themselves. Soon they would be gone, returned to the dull crush of strangers while Raff stayed behind, floating in this feeling, knowing that as the moon glimmered in through the cracks in the thatched roof he would remain, wrapped in Penn’s arms; the only place worth being.
It was a thrill - one he’d never purposefully chased before, although knew he had often courted - the danger mingling with the pleasure, with the tightening pressure in his core. They could get caught. He didn’t care. He spent so much time stepping around the feelings and wants of others, but this time he didn’t have to, hidden as they were.
His fingers carded through Penn’s hair, careful not to pull too hard, not to push. Penn eagerly took him, a soft moan crawling up his throat, muffled by Raff’s cock between his lips. Somehow, he took him even deeper, repeating the noise, his hand gripping Raff’s hip tight enough to bruise. He was moving surely, confidently sucking and squeezing and - occasionally - lightly scraping with the very edge of his teeth in a way that shouldn’t have been good but sent shivers shooting down Raff’s spine regardless. Raff stuttered out a quiet noise - nothing more than an intake of breath - but Penn continued, either ignoring the sudden risk or—
Or encouraging it. He was challenging him, Raff suddenly realised, playing with him, pushing him closer towards crying out while forcing Raff to rein himself in, blind to everything but the building pleasure and the tight, iron control he was having to wield over his own body; his own instincts.
It was too much. The pressure spilled over, and he came into Penn’s mouth in a rush, hand clamped over his mouth, lungs burning, head reeling. Penn worked him until he was entirely spent and shuddering against the wall, one hand pressed to his face and the other loosely tangled in Penn’s hair. When Penn finally moved away, Raff’s cock was slick and softening, his legs weak. Below, he heard the mumble of voices again - the whinny of horses - and, finally, the heavy thud of the stable door shutting, a bolt closing.
With a moan, he allowed himself to slide down, finally able to breathe again. Penn shuffled up beside him, looping an arm around his stomach, pressing his head against his shoulder. Even that touch was too much, overwhelming him, making his breath catch.
“Raff?” Penn’s voice was quiet, slightly slurred.
Raff pulled him closer, burying his head in Penn’s hair with a bitten-off curse that made Penn laugh against his chest. He took a breath, calming himself, willing his heart to stop thundering so he could better appreciate the feeling of Penn laying in his arms.
His head was still spinning, full of chatter. We could have been caught. They could have seen us. I want - God - I want to do that again.
He kissed the crown of Penn’s head, breathing him in.
"You must do something for me," he said, ignoring the rest.
Penn shifted against him. "Oh?"
"When you seek out the north-eastern lord, you must give him my thanks, too."
"And does anyone else deserve such exalted gratitude?" Penn laughed.
Raff tugged him closer, dragging his hand down Penn's back, careful not to dislodge his tunic.
"Perhaps," he said. "But I intend to pay him back with more than pretty words."
Penn heaved himself up to better look at him. His eyes were sparkling. Even in the darkness, Raff could see that his lips were swollen, still a little shiny. He couldn't resist: he kissed him again, drinking in the soft little noise of surprise that Penn made.
When he pulled away, Penn was grinning. "And how do you intend to pay him back?" He asked.
Another kiss - brief, a promise of more.
"The evening is long," Raff said. "The straw is soft. And we are alone." He glanced over the railing of the loft into the darkness. "Finally.” He squeezed Penn tighter. “I am sure I will be able to think of something."
