Happy, Maybe
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Disclaimer: All rights pertaining to the 1971 adaptation of "Krabat" belong to Otfried Preußler and his descendants. This fanfic is based on the book, but the imagery, and in particular some of the characterizations, were influenced by the film.
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On naked feet, Lyshko walked through the corridor on tiptoes. As he put his hand to the handle of the door to the Master's room, he received a wordless invitation. He entered, and closed the door silently behind him. Since the Master was nowhere to be seen, Lyshko went looking in the adjacent room, which was the bedchamber.
"There you are," the Master said. He was, like Lyshko, in nightclothes, and stood at the washing table in front of the window. "Well, come here …"
Lyshko stepped up to him, and the Master put both hands on his shoulders, pulled him close and kissed him lightly on the brow. "You like to?" he then asked, in a dark, hoarse voice that made Lyshko shudder with lust.
"Sure," he replied, as he looked at the Master and smiled.
The Master grinned, and took him by the hand to pull him to the bed. "I didn't expect otherwise anyway."
Readily, Lyshko lay down for him, on his back, as the Master preferred. He kept on his nightshirt, for it was cold in the chamber.
The Master settled on the edge of the bed. He caressed Lyshko with big, heavy hands. Then he bent down and kissed him, first on the brow, then on the mouth.
"Lyshko lysheka – my young fox," he whispered into his ear, and Lyshko shuddered anew as he half raised to meet him.
As a rule, the Master didn't make much of a fuss about the thing. Neither today. Once, Lyshko had said "Wait!" – just to see whether the Master would. He had, and after that, Lyshko had come to him even more willingly.
But now, there was no reason to wait. Usually, not much was needed to bring Lyshko quick release either.
The Master, as a rule, needed a little more time.
'Well, he's older', Lyshko thought, while watching the Master's face through half-closed eyes. It twisted, froze and, finally, relaxed, as he felt wet warmth flow into his body.
The Master remained on top of him, soaked with sweat, breathing labored. Lyshko encircled him with his arms, and kissed him. He had difficulty breathing, too, mainly because of the weight of the Master. At long last, he rolled off him, pulling Lyshko with him, close to him, so that they came to rest back to breast.
"Thank you, lysheka," the Master whispered and kissed him where convenient – in this case, behind the ear.
For this "thank you", especially in this tone of voice, Lyshko would have done much more than what the Master asked of him, at nights.
Then followed the part Lyshko liked best. He was allowed to stay with the Master, to lie with him or even in his arms, for as long as he wanted to or the night lasted, which usually resulted in the same. The Master always fell asleep quickly, but Lyshko often stayed awake for long, listening to the breathing and heartbeat of the Master, and feeling, he didn't know, how – happy, maybe.