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The summer really ought to have been coming to an end by this point.
But, as Samuel rode up to the Devil's Den, it was like nothing in the area had changed at all. The leaves were still a lush green, his horse's hooves still turned the dirt beneath them into dust, and the heavy summer sun still hung low in the treeline as the day came to a close.
It had been a long ride, and Sam was sure he wasn't the only one who thought the Den was a welcome sight. His horse snorted as it came into view; a dingy, rundown building that Sam had spent far more time in than he'd like. And yet-
Here he was. Willingly returning when nothing whatsoever was tethering him here anymore. Henry, he could visit elsewhere. His brother was always on the move, and he'd already threatened to visit Kolin. It would make his mother happy; she was fond of Henry, and he had a feeling Henry felt exactly the same about her, even if not to just find out more about Martin.
As Samuel hitched his horse just outside of the Den, beside a handful of others, he heard voices approaching. Behind him, the door to the inn creaked open, and silence fell on the conversation of whoever had come out, one set of footsteps emerging while the other retreated.
"Sam? Brother! What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming!"
Fuck.
Samuel turned around to greet Henry with a warm smile, but before he could even get a good look at him, he was crushed in a hug. The air was squeezed out of him, and all he could do was wheeze out a laugh.
He wasn't as broad as Henry was—he supposed his brother had all the blacksmithing to thank for that—but he gave as good as he got, hugging him and giving him a few slaps on his back for good measure.
"Am I not allowed to visit my brother?" he asked as they separated. It wasn't entirely a lie; seeing Henry was always pleasant.
"Of course you are," he replied enthusiastically. "How did you know I was still here?"
Right. Henry and Capon were supposed to be returning home soon. Sam offered a weak shrug. "I had a feeling."
"A good one! How's-"
"Henry, I need-" The nasally voice cut itself off, and its owner slowly raised their eyebrows at Samuel, visibly unimpressed by his presence. They weren't at odds anymore, not since Suchdol, but Sam couldn't exactly say he was fond of the man. "Oh."
"Lord Capon," he said, unable to prevent the partially snarky tone his words carried.
"Samuel," Hans replied, his lips pinching into a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He seemed unfazed by his presence, or as much as he usually did when anyone else was stealing even a second of Henry's attention. He rested his hand on Henry's elbow, promptly excusing himself from the conversation. "I'll see to the horses."
Once Capon was gone, disappearing around the corner where there were very much not any horses to tend to, Henry cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We were, um..."
Knowing that the interruption would be a relief to Henry, Samuel raised his hand. "I do not need to know details, brother."
And quite a relief it was. Henry's shoulders slumped, and a dopey, easy grin spread across his lips. The pleased expression only lasted for a moment before a deep knit grew between his brows. "We were just leaving, but... We could go tomorrow, instead? If you wanted to catch up now."
"Go. Lord Capon will have my head if I ruin this," he replied. He didn't take any offence at the contentment that ghosted over Henry's face. "I will be here for a while yet. We will talk another time."
"When Sir Hans isn't chomping at the bit to leave, eh?" With a hearty laugh, despite having just spoken very quietly so there wasn't a chance that Capon heard him, Henry gave Samuel another warm hug. "It's good to see you, brother."
After their parting words, Henry left, and Sam relaxed muscles he hadn't even noticed tensing. He wasn't lying. He wasn't. It was good seeing Henry, and even Capon—although he would never admit it—but...
Well, they weren't who he came to see.
Who he came to see was exactly where he was expecting: inside the Devil's Den, sitting at one of the tables, with a pitcher in front of him and a mug in his hand.
After a slow approach, clearing his throat once he was close enough to draw the other man's attention, Samuel came to a stop. Kubyenka turned slowly, blinking up at him a few times as if his brain needed time to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. Then, a smile spread across his lips.
"Sam!" he exclaimed. "How are you, lad? I didn't-"
As he tried to stand, his entire body swayed, bumping into the table with his full weight. Sam didn't reach out to help steady him, and soon enough, Kubyenka slumped back down with a loud laugh.
"What are you doing here?" he continued, the smile never once leaving his face despite his words being punctuated by a hiccup. "Last I heard, you were running from the Den as fast as- as your legs would carry you!"
"I wanted to thank you. Properly. For everything you did."
"And..." Even the tone should have tipped Samuel off to how this conversation was about to go. "How do people of your culture thank properly, then?"
His upper lip twitched as he watched a drunken grin take over Kubyenka's face. The old fool. What was he even expecting? For him to be thrilled, to express his delight at the gratitude? He knew what kind of man Kubyenka was; there wasn't a doubt in his mind about that. Maybe it was a bad idea, coming back here.
Before he could make it more than a step away, he was held in place by his wrist, calloused fingers wrapping around it. "Always so quick to anger, you young ones! It was only a joke, lad," Kubyenka said, keeping him in place.
"Not a funny one."
He continued as if Sam had never spoken at all. "But, thanks are not needed. I need to even out my sins once in a while, you know?"
The fight left him at the admission. "I would still like to give them,” he said, slowly leaving the sharp edge to his words behind.
"You can show your gratitude to me in another way. How about that?"
Sceptical, Samuel narrowed his eyes. This couldn't be good. "How?"
"Sit. Have a drink with me, for starters!"
With a scoff of laughter, Samuel sank into the seat beside him, cocking a brow at the empty pitcher in Kubyenka's hands and the half-drained jug beside it. "I will have some catching up to do."
"Don't be a fool, the stuff hardly even fogs my head anymore! It's such watered-down piss here that-" A cough from across the room drew his attention. The innkeep stared at Kubyenka, lips twisted in an unimpressed frown. "Oh, I won't lie to you, Treadlight! The ale is bad, and the wine is worse." He turned to Sam after that comment, glee sparkling behind his eyes. "Tastes like vinegar.”
"I will take your word for it," he replied through a quiet laugh, doing whatever he could to avoid the innkeeper's agitated stares. Mentioning that his tavern had never been accused of selling piss and vinegar probably wouldn't do him any favours. It seemed redundant now, anyway. It wasn't his anymore.
Kubyenka was clearly used to this. Unperturbed, he thrust his half-empty mug towards Sam, sloshing some ale over the side and splattering it onto the stained wooden table. "Come on! Drink. You promised-"
"I did not. Maybe we could take a walk, instead." The suggestion did exactly what Sam didn't want it to do: it was met with curiosity. It was supposed to be a casual suggestion, not... "If the drinks here are truly that terrible, surely you would not inflict that upon me."
Blessedly, Kubyenka seemed to agree. The sound he made suggested it, at least, but the fact that he began to furiously drink the rest of his ale said otherwise. He chugged it for barely a few seconds before slamming the mug onto the table with a pleased sigh. After dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, he let out a loud, violent hiccup, and the very same hand slapped onto Sam's shoulder. "Aye. Let's get off, then. I know where we should go."
Sam didn't know what had gotten into him, following after this drunken madman so blindly, but away they went. He led Sam out the side door of the building, into the warm, dry heat of the outdoors, towards the baths. He didn't dare question it, though he did wonder if his curiosity would be the death of him one of these days.
As a result of the summer, the river running between the inn and the baths was low. Low enough that Kubyenka had no qualms about trudging straight through it, letting what little water there was soak him to just above his ankles. He grumbled something once he got onto dry land, something that Sam didn't quite catch, but he continued on his way too fast for him to question the sounds.
Sam decided to take a more careful approach. He hopped over the river, getting a short running start before landing cleanly, avoiding the water entirely. Despite jumping, he still managed to disturb the pebbles on the other side of the river less than the man prior. Sam swore he could still hear them rattling around in Kubyenka's boots.
Much to his surprise, the walk didn't end at the baths. Kubyenka led Sam even further along, back towards the alchemy bench that he had seen Henry hunched over on occasion. Somewhere private.
Secluded.
The sharp ache that coursed through Sam's chest ought to have been uneasiness. He knew it should have, but he couldn't deny that he'd grown fond of Kubyenka after he helped so much back in Kuttenberg, for no benefit of his own, and even more so during the horrors at Suchdol. He was decent enough company when he kept his mouth shut.
By this point, Kubyenka had found the nice wine Henry kept the alchemy table stocked with, and watching his throat bob with effort from the speed he was drinking rid Sam's mind of any thoughts at all. Not long after, the jug was thrust out towards him, the other man's chest stuttering as he tried to catch his breath.
Sam shook his head once. "I'm-"
"Come on," Kubyenka began, his voice sounding a little thicker than before. "It's good! Should even be good enough for a city boy."
The tease was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. But Sam couldn't fight the incredulous expression that entirely took over his face in his attempt not to laugh. "City boy?" he questioned, receiving only a toothy grin in response. "Give me that."
As he took the pitcher, he found that Kubyenka's hand was still on it, lingering a little too long before dropping away. Had he expected Sam to drink from it while he poured? To lower himself, open his mouth, and take what he was given?
To hide the growing flush of his cheeks, definitely from the warm summer air and not the thoughts of debauchery that had filled his head, Samuel raised the jug and took a few, hearty sips. For courage, nothing more.
"Good boy," Kubyenka replied, voice dropping into what Sam could only describe as a purr. He immediately accepted the pitcher back, taking a long drink for himself.
If Sam had been paying closer attention—which he wasn't, he certainly was not—he would have noticed that the older man drank from exactly the same spot that he had, his tongue tracing the rim of the jug to clean up any mess Sam had left behind.
"So, how is... Where was it, again?"
Blinking himself back to consciousness, dragging his gaze away from Kubyenka's spit-slicked lips, Sam raised his brows. "Kolin?" Kubyenka hummed in confirmation, leaning back against the makeshift table while he eyed Sam with interest. He followed, the wood creaking a little beneath their combined weight. "It's fine."
"Just fine, is it?"
"Good, then. It's good. It's safe, that is all I can ask for."
"You could ask for a lot fucking more, I'd say."
Samuel shrugged. "Maybe."
"You've lost a lot, boy."
"Everyone has. But you helped me to lose a lot less than I could have. I'm grateful."
Kubyenka's nose scrunched up in thought. "Eh, so you keep saying, but..." He shook his head, fixing Sam with a smile, tight around the edges. "You're still young. You'll make new memories. Better ones."
"And you?"
Kubyenka exhaled a laugh. "I am an old dog now. I won't be doing anything new anytime soon." He raised his jug, careful not to spill any of the liquid inside. "Past my prime, I'm afraid."
Sam should have considered his next move more carefully. He knew he should have. But as he slowly turned his head, resting his chin on his shoulder to stare at the man beside him, all he saw was grief. From the new angle, he had to look up a little to get a good view; his head ducked, and his back slouched. Kubyenka's nose had a handsome curve to it. His eyes were wide, alert, despite the ridiculous amount of alcohol he had consumed even just since Sam had arrived.
He looked tired behind it all.
"I do not think you are."
Kubyenka's reply, blessedly, came fast, before Sam could second-guess himself. "No?"
Rather than immediately responding, he let out a little noise of disagreement that seemed to amuse the older man. "I have seen you fight," he said. "You hold yourself like a much younger man."
For a split second, Kubyenka's eyes dropped to Sam's lips, so quick that if he hadn't been staring at him so intently, he would have missed it.
The moment that he looked back up, their eyes meeting, he spoke. "You wanted to thank me." Sam nodded half heartedly. "You had something in mind."
This, Sam did not respond to. He didn't move an inch. The silence was answer enough, and each breath that passed between them ate away at his courage more than the last.
Back at Suchdol, during the siege, had Samuel misread those longing stares entirely? Had the starvation, the fear, clouded his mind that badly?
All of his worries went away with the warm breeze that blew past them as Kubyenka set the jug of wine where it was supposed to be, his back to Sam as a soft laugh rang out from deep in his chest. "Ah. That kind of thanks, is it?" His voice took on a familiar teasing lilt, and Samuel felt his entire body relax. "And what would your Liechtenstein think?"
"About what?"
Kubyenka turned to regard him, brows raised high. "What do you think?"
Sam met his gaze, feigning confidence where he felt absolutely none. "We agreed to both do things separately while he is gone.
"Good. That is good," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "The last thing I want is for your mistress to be breaking my door in a few months down the line."
Sam had to turn away his entire body to hide his amusement, imagining John's face if he ever found out he was called that... It was too much. "She will not."
"Good," Kubyenka replied easily, crowding him up against the table without warning, one hand on either side of him. "Because I think you deserve to have someone experienced looking after you. Not someone so young and fresh like him, he doesn't know what he's doing."
"And you do?" he said, hoping the anticipatory tremble to his voice wasn't too obvious.
"Years of practice, lad."
"With... men?"
"Men, women... You'd be surprised," he murmured as he ghosted a hand up Samuel's side, earning a shudder. "Wartime rules, and all that." The hand wandered a little further up, smoothing out over Sam's chest, broad and warm. "Let's take this off, hm? It will only get in the way."
Sam obliged faster than he really should have. If he wasn't already so pent up, he was sure he'd feel embarrassed about the speed he shed half of his clothes while Kubyenka simply watched on, his gaze heavy.
"And yours?" Sam asked after the staring grew too much to bear in silence.
"Don't need mine off for this," he said. "Now, turn around."
As Sam threw his discarded clothes onto a little wooden bench nearby, a horrifying moment of clarity hit him, and with wide eyes, he looked around.
"Ah, no one comes back here, lad," Kubyenka laughed. "Just Henry, and he's gone off with little Lord Capon!"
His hand rested heavily on Sam's shoulder, almost insistently. It didn't take long for Sam to understand the silent suggestion that Kubyenka was trying to make.
"I have never," he began, trailing off into nothing.
Kubeynka waited silently, and Sam found that he wished the old fool would start guessing. It would give him time to form a half-coherent response, or at the very least something that wasn't agonisingly crude.
"Ah! You've never been fucked, yourself, before? Is that it?"
Well, so much for not being crude about it.
Before he could even open his mouth to respond, Kubyenka was speaking again.
"First time for everything, boy. And, lucky for you, I've got experience on both ends." The innuendo was followed with a low chuckle, and those damn hands didn't stop roaming for even a second.
Fuck. What was he even doing here? He came to thank the man, not bend over for him. Though from the burning heat behind Kubyenka's eyes, Sam wagered that they were one and the same.
He went slowly, and perhaps as if he could sense Sam's hesitation, Kubyenka didn't rush him. Before he knew it, his chest was flat against the scratchy wood, his face turned to the side to watch the trees, and Kubyenka's warm hands were rubbing up and down his back hard enough to make Sam shift beneath their pressure.
"Good. Take it easy for a bit, lad. Just need to open you up..."
Taking it easy was most certainly not on the table for today.
Kubyenka leaned over Sam, noisily clanking the jugs and vials stacked up on the shelf over his head until he found what he was looking for. Just as he was told to, Samuel stayed put. Something about the other man...
Well, it made him want to. Hearing praise from him, Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever felt a rush like it.
Fuck. This was bad.
"All good?" Kubyenka asked from behind him as he thunked the pitcher of oil down next to Samuel's head, obscuring half of his view of the forest.
Sam nodded. He'd have to replenish Henry's supplies after this, or at the very least figure out a way to repay him that wasn't extremely suspicious. "Good. Yes."
"Good."
Without any further warning, he rid Sam of his hose and braies, yanking them down without even bothering to untie them, leaving them digging into his thighs.
"Ever done anything like this before? At all?" he asked as he dragged a slicked-up finger over his rim, silently threatening to push inside.
Sam couldn't find his words. His body jerked at the contact, despite the oil being warmed by the heat of Kubyenka's hand, it still felt ice cold back there, and he clenched his jaw so tightly that he truly thought it might break.
"Take that as a no," Kubyenka replied amusedly, beginning to gently rub the pad of his finger over the tight muscle instead in an attempt to coax it into relaxing. "Won't feel right to start with, but give it time. You won't be able to think of anything else once I'm through with you."
The single digit pushed forward, unceremonious, anticlimactic, and far too slick. For a moment or two, it was just sort of... there.
"Still with me, lad?"
Was he? "Y- Yes. Fine."
"Good. We'll take it slow, don't worry."
As more time passed, Sam grew worried that Kubyenka had lost focus with how quiet he had gotten. As if he could read his mind, soon after that, Kubyenka swapped fingers, managing to reach even deeper with his middle one.
This time, Sam couldn't help but squirm against the table, his jaw flexing by itself as if it wished it had something to bite down on. Then, Kubyenka's finger crooked, hitting the spot deep inside of him that had his entire torso stiffening, completely overwhelmed by the sensation.
Kubyenka exhaled, clearly pleased with himself, as Sam only let out a measured gasp, wanting to hide just how affected he was by the simple movement. "Ah, there we go," he said, patting Samuel's flank as if to soothe him like he was a spooked horse. "That's better, now. I can always find it."
Sam didn't know how long he would last if Kubyenka kept that up, but luckily, he didn't have to find out. The original finger joined the second, stretching this way and that, but not for long at all.
When Kubyenka pulled out of him, Sam almost whined at the loss of contact, forgetting himself and where he was. He didn't have to sit with his disappointment, however. Soon enough, Kubyenka was lining himself up and pushing forward with one slow thrust.
Despite doing all he could to relax, it still burned. The feeling was both far too much and not enough all at once. But, before he knew it, Kubyenka's hips were flush against his arse, his cock fully seated inside of him.
"Shit," Sam panted, trying to find a grip on the table with his chest heaved with exertion.
At least Kubyenka had the decency to sound a little winded, even if his voice was laced with amusement over the reaction he had gotten. "I'll say. Sure you haven't done it this way before, lad? You're a natural."
"Fuck you," he spat out, his teeth gritting together as he tried to maintain at least a modicum of composure. It was a losing battle.
Kubyenka tangled his fingers into Sam's hair, pulling lightly to lift his head as he leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Maybe another time, if you're lucky."
The promise—or threat?—had Samuel's abdomen tightening, curling in on himself as far as he could. But, he didn't have time to dwell on it, to wonder when another time might be. Kubyenka got straight to work. A little merciless, Sam thought, considering he knew it was his first time taking. But, he couldn't lie: the rough snap of the older man's hips did terrible things to him. Feeling his calloused fingers and palms drag up and down his sides, over his hips. Feeling them dig in so hard they'd surely leave dark bruises in their wake.
Sam could feel himself teetering on the edge of release, and from the stuttering of Kubyenka's hips, how erratic his thrusts were growing, clearly that he wasn't alone. Working him open slowly, toying with him, wasn't only for Sam's benefit, it seemed.
Kubyenka came first. His thrusts increased in roughness before he stilled, slamming in deep and spilling inside of Sam. Oh, and the noise the older man let out. Had Sam not been so close to his own release, he would have been mortified by the guttural groan of pleasure that was certainly loud enough for someone nearby to hear.
Or, maybe that was what pushed Sam over his own edge. He came silently, clenching his jaw tight enough that he could hear his teeth creak inside of his skull as he panted through them, his body wracked with a sensation it had never felt before.
Still thrust deep inside of him, Kubyenka ever so gently draped himself over Sam's back, his lips ghosting over the bare skin of his shoulder as if he was considering pressing a kiss to it. He exhaled, instead, his breath warming him. It was close enough.
"Alright, lad?"
It was cruel to make Sam try to form words after that. What was he supposed to say? I think you rearranged my insides, and I'll never be the same, but thanks!
"Fine. Yes."
---
"Not bad, as gratitude goes," Kubyenka said conversationally as he fixed his hose.
Sam huffed, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his lips. He wasn't quite brave enough to sit just yet—even the press of his clothes felt like too much—so instead he leaned against the alchemy table in what he hoped looked like a casual position. He was mostly trying to make sure the shoddy surface didn't tip over, and without the heat of arousal clouding his mind, he could finally see how ill-kept the area was.
Henry really ought to upgrade it, to invest in an actual table to use, and not what seemed to be a couple of planks of wood sitting atop some barrels. It was a miracle he didn't have more accidents here.
"I hope it was satisfactory," Samuel replied, dry as ever.
"Aye, that it was." A wry grin covered Kubyenka's face. "Want to go again?"
With his chest still heaving, Samuel could only blink at him. How was his stamina nowhere near as good as that of an old alcoholic? Kubyenka looked like he had barely even broken a sweat, and he'd done most of the work.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Samuel waved him away. "I have thanked you plenty.”