(A/N) This one ended up being more like a first time meeting between them
The tavern is warm and noisy, exactly how he likes it. There are so many people to talk to, people to talk about and most of all, people to laugh at. Drink and food travel between hands and he sits back surrounded by friends to bask in their company. The night drags on and it seems as though the entire village has come and gone. Regulars are scattered throughout the crowd and all night his eyes have been wandering to one face in particular that is not so familiar. With numerous glances he sees a scruffy beard, grey blue eyes and the man's hair is pulled back into a messy knot. Here, in the dim light of candles and lanterns he sees him more clearly than anyone else and if he is reading the man's gaze properly, those grey eyes show enough interest as to be flirted at. Sitting across the room it is easy to return such endearing looks without notice from others.
Beside him Falstaff chortles and slaps his arm to gain his attention. Surely it can't be so funny as to ruin his silent sparing with a complete stranger and yet his friend goes about retelling his story once more, as robustly as possible. After the third farfetched tale he interrupts finally.
"Permit me to ask a question before you continue. Who is that man over there, with the axe and knives?"
Those around him turn their gazes for a moment and he's surprised to see how they need only a few seconds before turning to him with an answer. Falstaff points a chubby finger to make sure they're seeing the same man before he speaks.
"That, my friend, is The Huntsman."
"A hand for hire," the bar woman offers as she passes by, no doubt eaves dropping on them as she makes her rounds.
"He lives outside of town and will do any kind of job as long as it pays well," Ned adds and with nothing more to add the conversation picks up where it left off.
Hal fingers the drink in front of him and stares, really, he should walk over. The man looks lonely, positively bored he thinks, he could use some company. Setting to it he leaves his friends and wanders over.
He drops into the seat opposite and puts on a charming smile before saying, "Hello huntsman."
What he once thought where stormy grey eyes, he sees now are churning oceans and there's something behind the man's gaze, something that whispers back at him saying such a tempest cannot be quelled by simple measures.
"You've been staring."
"I am not the only one guilty of that charge."
The man gives him a half smile and it seems like an enormous feat, like maybe he has a chance of seeing into the eye of that storm and feeling the calm that lies within. Hal leans in close, much too close for their whispering to seem innocent to others and says "Come with me upstairs, just for a moment."
Sliding a hand across the table he lets his fingers rest on the man's wrist. They hold each other's gaze as the tavern continues to bustle with customers before the huntsman downs the rest of his drink and stands to lead the way up the stairs. There's a room near the end of the walkway that's empty and they crowd into it, shoving a chair against the door to deter any intruders. Inside the sounds are muffled and Hal can clearly hear the other's breath, exhaling through his nose as if steadying himself for what is about to come.
"Do you have a name huntsman?"
"Eric. And you?"
"Hal."
Eric watches the lithe man slink forward, pressing close to him and already the haze in his mind is lifting. Hal kisses him slow, curious, and maybe a bit cautiously and the huntsman can only think presume he does for he has yet to shed his weapons. Unlatching belts and untying knots, the weapons end up on the floor and Hal leads the huntsman backwards till he sits at the edge of the bed.
Oh yes, the prince does like this so far, seeing the tall man lowered, waiting and expectant, he smooth's his hands up the man's thighs, letting his touch linger and entice. Leaning in he kisses a little harder, bites and feels Eric's arousal heavy through the fabric of his trousers. Between them there is no hesitance, only charging forward and Hal is somewhat relieved in that he won't have to coax a nervous virgin through such indecent acts.
Leaning back Eric barely breathes as Hal works at the laces of his pants. He notes just how long his bedmate's fingers are, exotic almost and absently he thinks the man must be absurdly dexterous. There are few words exchanged as Hal pulls the man's pants down and hums in delight at the sight of the huntsman's erection. Thick and commanding it calls to him and he descends upon the length with an eager tongue.
Eric groans deep in his chest and to Hal it is a chorus of angels hailing his work. It's hard to keep control as he watches Hal work and feels a devilish tongue probe at the slit of his penis and then caress in a soothing manner. Except he'd hoped for a bit more and he reaches out, tugging at the man's reddish jacket till he gets the picture and comes forward to sit in his lap.
Kissing his bedmate he can taste himself, he can taste ale and the bitter tang of pre come and he relishes the feel of their tongues sliding together. Tugging at the other's breeches he shucks them down enough to take both their cocks in hand and pump. To his pleasure Hal makes a noise somewhere between a needy moan and a surprised gasp as he works them faster.
Hands twine and pull at the knot of his hair till he feels it give and fan around his shoulders, he growls low when Hal makes fists, pulling him closer because that's all either of them want at the moment, to be closer, to press and push and swim in the haze of desire. Squeezing and twisting Eric feels the way Hal loses rhythm, how his hips stutter and rut and he's there too, trying desperately to stave off the end.
What does him in is Hal and when he thinks back to this night, in a room in a tavern with tens of people downstairs, he'll remember the way Hal's thighs clench around his hips, he'll remember the rosy color of the man's kiss bruised lips and till the end of time, he'll remember the way his name sounded as Hal cried it out. He can feel the cock against his pulsing and spilling and he moans low in contrast to his bedmate's higher keen and comes, fisting them through the last waves of pleasure before finally letting go.
They're a mess, shirts stained, and clothes in disarray. At the moment he could care less except Hal seems to mind and it's like the wind gets knocked out of his chest as the man proceeds to clean their come from his fingers. Hal doesn't get far because Eric pulls him in for another kiss and he all but melts against the man. Though he balks at the thought of using a rag left in the room, Hal permits the use of it to clean what they can from their clothes.
He would stay longer, but already he is thinking of his friends below and that his absence must surely have been noticed, so he kisses the huntsman again and once more for good measure before imploring him to come back to the tavern so they might meet again. Then he's gone out the door and Eric watches him leave, he had already planned on returning to the tavern anyway.