Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5983000.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Almighty_Johnsons, Being_Human_(UK)
  Relationship:
      Anders_Johnson/John_Mitchell, Carl_(Being_Human_UK)/John_Mitchell
  Character:
      John_Mitchell, Anders_Johnson, Carl_(Being_Human_UK), Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Minor_Character_Death, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Arranged_Marriage, Men_in
      Kilts
  Series:
      Part 3 of Seasons_in_the_North_Hills
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-12 Updated: 2016-06-13 Chapters: 5/? Words: 8570
****** Seasons in the North Hills : Side-Stories ******
by dandelionpower
Summary
     This is a collection of side stories set in the Scottish AU of Season
     in the North Hills (What Binds US) - a britchell AU inspired by
     scottish traditions. There will be prequels, maybe sequels and scenes
     that did not make it to the final cut of the main story.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** The Return of the Weapon Master *****
Chapter Summary
     Long ago, Carl made the mistake of falling for the young apprentice
     to whom he was in charge of teaching weapons handling. When Lord
     Mitchell (John’s father) learnt about the feelings one of his guards
     had for his son, he had Carl transferred to another city, as far from
     the boy as possible. James Mitchell could not allow this relationship
     to continue any longer. His heir’s heart was to belong to nobody
     except his future husband. Years later, when Carl met Anders for the
     first time, the guard told him he had not set foot in Brastàl since
     his banishment a decade ago … but this was a lie.
Chapter Notes
     Story gifted to my babe: @katyushha (who also betaed it)
“John,“ Lady Ann said in a hushed tone as she squeezed her son’s shoulder. The
young man’s teary eyes met hers. “The priests are going to take the body from
the bedroom now. The funeral ceremony won’t begin before sundown,” she told
him. “You didn’t sleep last night. You should get some rest.”
John rubbed his temples with his gloved hands and looked at his father again.
The Great Lord’s face was pale but relaxed. The disease had caused him so much
pain, but now he looked peaceful in his eternal sleep. It was John’s only
consolation: to know that his father did not sufffer anymore.
“I don’t really feel like sleeping,” John admitted, his voice laced with grief.
“Fine, but I forbid you to stay here any longer. Why don’t you go to George’s
place? It would be good if you took your mind off things a little,” Lady Ann
suggested.
“Can you?” he wondered.
“No. Not yet. I just lost my husband,” she reminded him.  “But life must go on,
my lord.”
John shook his head and stood up. He didn’t want to think just yet about his
new title or all the responsibilities he would have to handle from now on. Not
when the pain was so fresh.  “I guess I should go eat something and clean up a
little,” he sighed.
“That’s my boy,” Lady Mitchell breathed. She touched his cheek fondly and let
him go.
John left the room and went down the stairs, all kinds of thoughts harassing
him at once. He would have to write to the clans’ chieftains and inform them of
his father’s death. He also had to send a formal letter to Aklànd and summon
Sir Anders to Brastàl’s court. Death spirit! Like he didn’t have enough
pressure already, he also had to think about his marriage with a man he barely
remembered. He would deal with all this in due time, but for now, he had to
keep breathing, keep moving; keep living.
When he reached his bedroom, he noticed that the door was ajar. When he stepped
in, a voice called his name. “John?”
“Carl?” John let out, astonished to see his old friend there.
Carl greeted him and pulled him into a warm hug. “I heard your father was sick
and I came as soon as I could. How is he?”
“He is dead,” John blurted out, circling the taller man’s waist and pressing
his face into his shoulder. He did not cry, he was too drained for that, but he
let out a dry sob.
“Oh dear… I’m so sorry,” Carl whispered, putting a soothing hand on the back of
John’s head. “So sorry, my friend…”
John clenched his fists in the fabric of the older man’s coat and didn’t let
him go. Carl heaved a sympathetic sigh as he stroked the young man’s hair.
The taller man’s scent helped John relax and little by little, as they held
each other in silence, his jaw unclenched and the pain lessened. The hands with
long fingers were tracing tender patterns on his back and John knew he could
let go in those arms.
When they slowly parted, Carl put his hands on the young man’s shoulders and
scrutinized his face.
John looked back at his former lover and his unchanged face. He hadn’t taken on
a wrinkle and still had the same eyes – dark grey like a sword’s blade but full
of compassion and gentleness.
“You haven’t changed at all,” John marvelled, stopping himself from reaching
and touching the handsome face.  
“You did, though,” Carl whispered back, but he didn’t restrain himself from
cupping the lord’s face in a callused yet soft and warm palm. “The boy who used
to spy on my when I was training grew up a lot.”
John grinned, not repentant for his past deeds.   
Carl tilted his head to the side. “And since…. you have the exact same smile
you had the first time you dragged me behind the stables to kiss me.”
“I still enjoy kissing,” John flirted without shame.  He couldn’t deny that
those years apart had not lessened the attraction he felt for the older man in
the slightest. He had always admired Carl for his strength of character, his
patience; for his calm and steady presence. He could see that the guard still
had all the qualities that had made John want him in the first place. And the
tension that had drawn them toward each other back then was there, almost
intact.
“You were so young, John,” Carl sighed, running the pad of his thumb on the
dark stubble.   
“Don’t feel guilty for what happened between us,” John replied, catching Carl’s
hand in his. “Yes, I was young but I was perfectly aware of what I was seeking.
I consider myself lucky that my desire was returned. I don’t regret anything,
and neither should you.”  
“My biggest regret is that I wasn’t there for you the last ten years when times
were rough, but I know your father wouldn’t have allowed me to come back.”
“I guess not…” John conceded.  “But you don’t owe me anything, Carl.”
Carl shook his head and he could not hold the lord’s gaze.
“I’m very happy to see you again,” John reassured him, closing his fingers
around the guards’.  
A small smile appeared on the guard’s face and he dared look at the younger man
again. “So am I, Doe-eyes,” Carl teased.  
“Nobody called me that for a very long time now,” John chuckled.  He felt
warmth in his chest as he stepped even closer to his former lover. Since the
day Carl was banned from Brastàl, John had been curious to know how he would
feel if he saw his old flame again. The desire was even more acute now that
John knew the ways of attraction and pleasure better. He was no awkward
teenager anymore.
The thumb that was running on his cheek changed its course to graze the lord’s
lower lip. “I think the nickname still applies,” Carl observed in a low voice.
His pupils were dark and devouring John’s face. “You still have those eyes,
even if you look less like a fawn now.”
Without thinking, the young brunet placed a hand on the side of Carl’s neck and
pulled the taller man down a little to seal his lips to his. Carl sighed in the
kiss but he didn’t pull back. John knew he should be ashamed of kissing a
married man, but his guilt vanished when the guard tilted his head to deepen
the kiss and that his tongue caressed his lips.
When John moaned into the kiss, Carl pulled back firmly but without anger,
holding John’s shoulders.  “You are grieving your father,” he said with an
apologetic look.  “I don’t want to take advantage of you in a vulnerable
moment.”   
“I’m not fifteen anymore, Carl. Trust me,” John assured him, already stepping
back into the guard’s personal space. “I know what I want. I always did.”
Carl rested his forehead on the Lord’s. He seemed resigned to the fact the
burning sexual tension between them had to be resolved one way or another. “You
are still driving me crazy, you know.”
John put his hand on the back of the taller man’s neck again with a cat-like
smile. “Does it mean that you are still attracted to me?” he asked, even if the
reply was obvious.
“It’s difficult not to,” the guard admitted, staring down at John’s lips. “You
leave a permanent mark on people who once shared your nights, John. You should
be careful, for you have a greater seduction power than you think.”
“I missed you,” John murmured.  
“I missed you too,” Carl replied, and this time he was the one claiming John’s
lips.
Guilt came back when John found himself tugging on Carl’s coat to bring him to
his bed. But he wanted to feel the body he had adored and revered. With his
father dead, his marriage was imminent and he would not be a free man for long.
Besides, Carl and he had never had the chance to say goodbye and have a proper
last time… and John was not forcing him to do anything. If the guard was ready
to forget his husband for a night, he was not responsible.
When they tumbled on the bed, Carl asked for the permission to touch John under
the waist.  The heat and softness of the guard’s caresses on the side of his
thighs made him want to mewl like the teenager he was the first time he had
given the older man the permission to explore under his kilt.
As they exchanged long and leisurely kisses, John started unbuttoning Carl’s
shirt. Carl did the same but the young lord stopped him mid-way.  “I warn you:
I’m considerably hairier than the last time you saw me naked.”
“Don’t worry,” Carl soothed with a kiss to his forehead, “Just let me undress
you and then you can show me the magnificent man you’ve become.”
Reassured, John let the older man divest him from his shirt and kilt.
As he straddled the guard’s hips, the lord let an equally naked Carl run his
hands through the black fur of his pectorals. The guard seemed fascinated and
moved at the same time. “You are breathtaking, John.” Carl ran his hands up and
down John’s biceps with an appreciative smile. “So strong and well-built,” he
whispered with a gleam of pride in his grey eyes.
“I’m sure you are still stronger than me,” John pointed out as he lied down and
pulled the other man down on top of him, seeking the warmth of his skin on his.
Carl pressed a kiss to the top of the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Nah. Look at
you. I was always lean and lanky. I always knew, even when you were young and I
was still your weapon master, that my student would surpass me in strength and
skill. And I was right.”
Their kisses and touches became more urgent as they dived in this passionate
and unexpected bliss. It felt good to John to be held by someone he trusted. It
wasn’t perfect, though. John was not a giddy teenager anymore, and he fought to
get the upper hand, as if he needed to prove that he was a man now. And Carl,
who was used to a pliant and greedy boy, eager to please and learn, was a bit
unsettled.
The sex managed to make John forget the pain of his recent loss for a brief
moment as he took all the pleasure he could from Carl’s touch. But when they
finally lay down in the calm of the aftermath, John’s head on the other man’s
chest, a strange sensation of emptiness seized the young lord. He realized that
even if he had had a lot admiration for Carl and that he still felt strong
attachment and affection for him, that wasn’t love. There was something
missing, and as much as he wanted to feel the excitement of his first sexual
experiences again, he had grown and changed and it didn’t feel the same
anymore. He thought of Carl’s husband again and his throat tightened.
“This…. This was a mistake…” he muttered, pressing a palm flat to the guard’s
stomach and breaking their embrace slowly.
Carl didn’t try to deny it. “Yes. It was.“
“You knew this was going to happen?” John questioned, propping himself up on
his elbow.
“No. I wasn’t planning anything.”
“You love your husband.”
“Deeply,” Carl breathed. “But I loved you too. And I thought of you a lot in
the past years,” he confessed. “I think Daniel suspected this could happen when
I told him I was coming here to see you… I saw it in his face.”
“And he still let you go?” John frowned
“He knew I had to make peace with my past. I had to know how it would feel to
see you again.”
A long silence followed before Carl turned his head to look the young brunet in
the eyes. “Making love to you: it felt amazing, John. But now I know for sure
that it’s Daniel that I truly love. You are an important part of my past, but
he is my future. ” He looked sorry as he reached to touch the warrior’s
shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just need to be honest.”
That confession would have devastated John ten years ago maybe. But now, he
realized he wasn’t hurt at all. “And I salute that. There was no version of the
story where we ended up together.” He let himself collapse on the mattress
again with a loud sigh. “I’m going to get married soon, Carl….with Sir Anders
of Aklànd. He is going to be here in less than a moon.”
“Yes. My boy is a real lord now,” Carl smiled.
John pulled a face.  
“Does that make you scared?” the guard asked.
“Yes and no.”
“’Meaning what?”
The warrior ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been preparing for this
marriage all my life…but what if he doesn’t like me?” he asked in a small
voice.
“I doubt it’s possible.”
“I think it is, actually. I mean, I can be blunt when I speak my mind and I
don’t always think before talking. I can be quick-tempered, cranky and-“
“If we only allowed perfect people to marry, the temples would go bankrupt,”
Carl cut him off.  
“Hm….” John emitted absentmindedly. “But imagine that he isn’t attracted to me
at all… or I to him….”
“Then, you’ll become the best friends this country has ever seen and you’ll
consider him like family even if you don’t share pleasure together at night.”
John stayed silent, staring at the ceiling.
“You don’t seem convinced,” the guard observed, shifting onto his stomach and
resting his chin in his forearm.   
“I admire your optimism,” John deadpanned.  
Carl put an arm across the younger man’s stomach and scooped closer. “I’m sorry
you can’t choose the one you are going to marry.”  
“Father always said that Sir Anders was perfect for me. I guess I have to trust
his judgement.”
Carl had heard about Anders Johnson before, and the reports spoke of him as an
arrogant, rude, cocky and selfish individual. Of course, he kept this
information to himself. He didn’t want to add to the young man’s doubts.
Later that night, Carl accompanied John to the funeral pyre and he stayed close
to him, his face hidden under the hood of a cloak. Carl held John’s hand during
the whole ceremony. Lady Mitchell recognized him but she didn’t speak to him or
try to make any comment about his presence.  
They slept together in John’s bed that night, but didn’t make love again.
“I’ll write to you,” John promised when they parted outside the city walls at
the break of dawn.  
“I’d be delighted to hear from you.”
They stared in each other’s eyes and John thought Carl would kiss him a last
time, but instead, he hugged him and he patted his cheek with a fond smile
before he climbed on his horse. And just like that, a whole era of John’s life
came to an end. It wasn’t really sad, John noticed as he watched Carl disappear
down the road, around the castle’s battlements. It was just how things were
meant to be.  
***** Bookwarm *****
Chapter Summary
     Here is a (very short) scene that I wrote as a side story, and It was
     supposed to be added to the chapter 13 or 14 of WBU1- The Autumn, but
     I never found a good place to insert it.
Lord Mitchell sighed as he opened the leather cover of another heavy book. This
wasn’t a pleasant reading. The accountant who worked for his father was an
incompetent and John had fired him as soon as he had become the lord of
Brastàl, but now, he had to reread all the account books of the castle’s
treasury of the past ten years and try to make sense of all these columns of
numbers.     
It was late, he was tired and his eyes were closing on their own accord. He
still had to struggle through the reading of one more book until tomorrow. He
would rather be in his bed, with Anders reading him erotic novels than have to
do that boring work. For a few moments, his mind escaped the dusty library to
go three levels above, where Anders was probably preparing to go to sleep.
Right now he would give his lands to be able to slip under the covers with his
husband. 
He rested his head on his forearm on the table, and heaved another sigh. He
didn’t intend to fall asleep, just to relax for a few minutes, but he did
anyway.
When he opened his eyes, it was the morning and he was breathing in blond hair.
He realized he was lying on the library’s floor, his head on a cushion and in
Anders’ arms.
 He shook his husband’s shoulder to wake him up. “What happened? Why are we on
the floor?” he asked him when the older man blinked his eyes open. Anders
cleared his throat. “Well, I was wondering why you weren’t joining me in our
bed so I went downstairs and found you asleep here. I didn’t want to wake you
up, and to be honest, you were sleeping so soundly I’m not even sure I would
have been able to. You are way too heavy for me to carry you upstairs, so I
made you slip to the floor and put a cushion to support your head.”

“And you slept with me here…” John completed.
“Of course, I couldn’t leave you alone like that, could I?”
The warrior looked into the blue eyes, uncertain.  "You won’t leave me…?“ His
voice trailed off with apprehension. It was both a question and a supplication.
Yes, they had sex for the first time the day before, but sex wasn’t love and
John was not entirely reassured Anders was there to stay.  
"I won’t leave you,” Anders replied. It sounded like a promise and John had to
smile as relief washed over him.  
***** Young Flirting *****
Chapter Summary
     A little snippet about how John lost his virginity.
     John/Carl , because I love those two.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“What are you doing here, sir?” Carl questioned, hastening to put on a shirt
when he found the young heir seated at his kitchen table like he owned the
place: which was not far from the truth, in fact. The grave look on his face
made John seem older than the fifteen-year-old boy he was.
The weapon master had come back to his apartments in the guardhouse to get
changed and clean up after an afternoon of training with his student. He was
surprised and embarrassed to find John there when he thought the boy had gone
back to the castle.
“I wanted to speak to you in private,” the heir said.
Carl’s heart dropped. He had hoped John would not bring it up, but he should
have known better. They were alone together now and it made Carl more nervous
than it should have if his conscience was clear. Except it wasn’t. It really
wasn’t.
“Today you acted like nothing had happened between us,” the boy reproached.
Carl sighed, still not daring leaving the false safety of the doorframe. He
didn’t even want to step into the kitchen, as if being in the same room as John
would be too much to handle. “Yes, because it’s the right thing to do,” the
guard stated. “What happened was a mistake and it won’t happen again.”
John stood up, not breaking eye contact with his weapon master. “You didn’t
like it? You don’t find me attractive?” he asked and Carl could see by the way
John was standing that he was trying to appear taller and more muscular than he
was. The big, hazel eyes were both imploring and confident.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with-”
“So you do find me attractive, after all,” John cut him off as he took a step
closer.
“You are too young to know what you are doing,” Carl groaned, both angry with
himself for having a hard time controlling his feelings for his student and
with John for challenging him that way.
“I’m old enough to know what I’m doing,” John objected, “I need to know why you
are lying to me… and to yourself. I know you liked our kiss. Why don’t you just
admit it?”
Carl’s gaze dropped. Of course he had liked it – too much for his own sake.
John’s lips were the softest thing he had ever tasted and he swore he could
still feel them on his like the sensation had been branded there.
“You don’t have to feel guilty,” John whispered, getting closer to Carl enough
to gingerly put his hands on the other man’s hips. “My 16th birthweek is in a
fortnight. You know what will happen then.”
Carl closed his eyes and nodded. It was so much easier when he could not see
John, looking at him with hopeful, hazel, doe eyes. “Yes, I know. Everyone will
start inquiring if you are still a virgin and all the matrons of the city are
going to introduce you to their sons and daughters, hoping you’ll choose them
to be your first.”
John touched his cheek, forcing Carl to open his eyes again. “Is it really what
you want?” the young heir inquired.
“No! I mean… I don’t know,” Carl stuttered. “You….you really want me to be your
first? It wouldn’t be proper.”
“I don’t care if you think you are too old for me. It’s still you I want,” John
said. “And I know it’s what you want as well – I see the way you look at me,”
he whispered. “I felt it in the way you kissed me. You already show me how to
fight and I’m a diligent student – would it be so different to show me how to
give and receive pleasure?”
Carl gulped. The spirits knew how many times he had imagined himself undressing
John- caressing and cherishing his body. Of course he was afraid – afraid of
developing feelings for the boy, but a part of himself knew it was already too
late. When he was close, like right now, the heir’s presence annihilated any
rational thought from his mind.
John kissed Carl on the cheek and smiled. Then, the heir took a step back and
stretched his spine with a wince. “You didn’t spare me at the training today.
I’m feeling so sore.”
“A bit of pain is good to reinforce your body,” Carl declared, “but … I can…
massage your back if you want.”
John’s smile turned into a grin. “Yes, please. I want your hands on me.”
Carl knew he was doomed. It was obvious that John was meant to be a ruler one
day. Without effort, he already ruled over Carl’s heart and body.
Chapter End Notes
     This little drabble was part of Katushha's birthday present and she
     also betaed this story. Big thanks and much love to my princess.
***** Pleasure and Leisure *****
Chapter Summary
     John makes his new husband experience the luxury and comfort of the
     inn he chose for their little improvised honeymoon.
     No harm or worry can get to the spouses there; not when they have a
     fire roaring in the hearth, mulled wine and each other.
     (Set between the autumn and the winter series. )
     Fluff & smut
Chapter Notes
     This side-story was part of Katyushha's birthday calendar and gifted
     to her.
     No beta for this story, I'm sorry for any mistakes.
 
“I like it here,” Anders decided. He pushed his hood off and his eyes scanned
the buildings surrounding the High Pine Inn with an appreciative look.
“I knew you would,” John replied with a smile as he slipped down his saddle. He
walked around his horse and held a hand out to help his husband.
Anders ignored the outstretched hand and put his feet back on the ground by
himself.
John had suspected his husband would love Eelry. The houses with white facades
and stony-grey slate roofs, were a hybrid between Brastàl’s architecture and
the one that could be found in the Keir’s lands and also on the coast where
Anders had grown up. John too had to agree that Eelry was giving a lighter
impression to its visitor; less deary than Brastàl. He had always loved that
city for its refined food and tasty ale. He looked forward to make his new
husband experience the luxury and comfort of the inn he had chosen for their
little improvised honeymoon.
It had rained for most their trip from Brastàl. Water was dripping from Anders’
blond hair and a few curls remained plastered on his forehead. The consort
seemed a little tired but in a good mood. They left the soldiers who escorted
them from Brastàl in charge of unpacking the cart that carried their travel
trunk.  
As the Great Spouses led Pessa and Ornàn to the stables, the Aklànder tried to
shake the water off his clothes like a wet dog, which made John smile. When
Anders sneezed, the Lord’s expression changed for a frown.
“I’m alright,” Anders said, anticipating a concerned question from his husband.
“I’ll order some mulled wine and a tea-pot once we’re in the room,” the brunet
decided. “And if it isn’t sufficient, I’ll warm you up myself.”
They exchanged a knowing look as they unsaddled their horses. John did not know
for how long he could still keep his hands for himself. For the next two days,
nobody would come knocking at his door and urge him to look into pressing
matters. He would be entirely free to devote himself to his cherished husband.
The idea itself made his heart speed and gave him a soft feeling of euphoria.  
 
                                      ***
The rain tapped on the window, a pleasant sound that even added to the coziness
of the room.
“I don’t think they bought that your name is Ian MacCormick,” Anders pointed
out as soon as the inn’s servants had left their room after they brought the
hot drinks.
John shrugged. “Probably not. It’s not the first time I’m staying here. They
surely recognized me,” the lord replied, placing a mug of mulled wine between
Anders’ cold fingers.
“Why pretend, then?”
Anders dropped his leather bag to the floor and he let himself fall in one of
the large velvet-covered armchairs that faced the fireplace with a content
sigh.
“To make them understand I’m here incognito and I don’t want to be bothered,”
John explained as he fumbled through their travel truck.
 Good wool kept warm even when wet, but it was still uncomfortable. John got
rid of his cloak, coat and shirt, only keeping his kilt on. He deliberately
made a show of his undressing, but when he threw a side glance at his husband
to see if Anders was looking his way, the blond man seemed more interested in
detailing their room as he took a few sips from his mug.
John could not blame him. The lords of Brastàl, as austere warlords of the
hills, had always took some pride in living according to their rank, but with
only the bare necessities. The Mitchells had never been a clan to display a
fatuous luxury. They gained their legitimacy on the battlefield, not with pomp
and circumstance. Therefore, that luminous room, with its pale and smooth walls
of polished limestone, made the couple’s bedroom back in Brastàl’s look like a
prison cell.  Large enough to accommodate at least six person, the bed had a
duck duvet like a white, soft, summer cloud.
No harm or worry could get to the spouses there; not when they had a fire
burning in the hearth, mulled wine and each other.
“I took a shirt and a clean kilt for you out of the trunk if you want to get
changed,” John offered, putting some dry clothes on the edge of the bed.   
“Mhm,” Anders agreed with an absent mind. His eyes travelled along the
sumptuous gilded trim around the ceiling, carved with the fifty two spirits’
symbols. The center of the ceiling was covered in a colorful, erotic painting
representing three couples engaged in intimate acts. The subject indicated
clearly that this room of the inn was reserved for couples.
The first painting showed two young women: one of them sat on the bed while the
other stood, leaning forward over the bed to kiss her. She fondled her
partner’s breast as she cupped her face with the other hand. It had been made
by a talented artist. One could tell that the standing woman was about to
gently push her lover back on the bed. The second painting was the one of a man
and a woman: both naked as well. The man sat on a couch and the woman straddled
his hips. It was obvious by the look on her face that she enjoyed riding her
partner. The third painting, John noticed, had attracted Anders’ gaze and the
blond man was staring at it for a while now. Two men were painted there, drawn
from profile, displaying their nude bodies for the curious room guests to
admire. They were skin against skin; one man standing behind the other, an arm
across his chest and the fingers of his other hand wrapped around his lover’s
hard penis. The one standing in front had his head resting back on his
partner’s shoulder and his lips were parted in a moan of pleasure that would
forever stay soundless. The scene was explicit, passionate, but tender all the
same.
“Does it inspire you?” John teased.
“Perhaps,” Anders answered, enigmatic, as he kept on admiring the artwork. The
consort had a little shiver and took a sip from his mug. He swallowed the hot
liquid and heaved a little relaxed sigh. It made John want to kiss him and be
the mulled wine that warmed his lips.
The lord walked up to the chair where Anders rested and put a gentle hand on
his shoulder. “You can’t stay in those wet garments,  a ghraid. ”
 “Yes, you are right,” Anders approved. He put his mug down next to the teapot
on the low table and stood up.
John’s eyes followed his movements as Anders reached the other side of the room
where they had left their trunk to get rid of his coat and shirt. Some rain had
trickled into Anders’ neckline. The crease between his pectorals was wet and
his small, pink nipples still perky from the cold. A rush of lust traveled down
John’s stomach and coiled under his kilt. Two second later, he had closed the
space that separated him from his consort and wrapped his arms around the
smaller body.
 Anders soon found himself pinned to the nearest wall and kissed with ardor.
 The fingers that tangled in John’s hair encouraged the warrior to deepen the
kiss even more and Anders’ hand on the small of his back prompted him to join
his hips to his spouse’s. The sounds coming from Anders’ mouth led the Great
Lord to believe that his partner  was quite content with being trapped between
him and the hard surface. The brunet kept his balance with a hand on the wall,
next to his partner’s head. He rocked his hips in lascivious undulations
against Anders’, careful not to make his lover’s arousal grow too fast. The
Aklànder’s body was a refined meal to be savored and appreciated, but never
with haste and disrespect. But as much as he wanted to make it last and take
his time, John’s fingers were already fidgeting with Anders’ kilt at the back
of his leg. He wanted to grab and massage the naked buttocks he knew were round
and full. He was also consumed by the need to slip a hand under the front of
the kilt: cup his husband’s testicles, run his fingers through the patch of
soft and curly ginger hair and run his palm along the smooth shaft.
John tugged on the tartan fabric. “Anders,” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “Can
I...? May I….?”
“Tsk, tsk,” Anders chided, shaking his head with a smirk. And with that, he
pushed his hips forward, making their erections rub against each other through
the wool of their kilts.
“Damn it, husband!” John cursed from the frustration of seeing the access to
his husband’s sex being denied to him. “You make me lose my mind.”   
Anders had a surprising lot of control. “Where would be the fun if I didn’t?”
he teased.
“You want to play dirty, huh?” John groaned. “But I can play too, see how you
like it,” he added. He grabbed Anders’ wrists and trapped both his arms above
his head. He put a knee between Anders’ legs and immobilized the smaller man
completely. He constricted Anders’ crotch with his thigh, to the verge of
making it uncomfortable, but still leaving himself enough space so he could
still give his lover’s cock some friction. Anders whimpered and the blue of his
eyes was as dark as a loch in a rainstorm. The blond man couldn’t move, and he
could not resist either when John licked, kissed and bite the tender sinews of
his neck.   
Anders tried to rub himself on his husband’s thigh to release some of the
tension, but in this position, only the Lord could control the pressure and
friction. He knew he could make Anders come pretty quickly if he wanted.
“John,” the older man panted. The tone was slightly imploring now.
“What is it, my bonny love?” John simpered. “Are you finally ready to ask your
lord his forgiveness for being such a tease?”
“Never!” Anders growled, but it was as much from pride as part of the game.
John increased the pressure and bit harder into the offered neck, sucking a
purple mark into the pale flesh.
 “Fine… if you insist,” Anders surrendered, his breath laborious, “you can
touch me.”
John did not have to be told twice. “Oh I insist.”
 He released Anders from his body weight, let go of his wrists and removed his
leg from between Anders’ thighs.  John’s hand was already under the blond man’s
kilt, fingers trailing up his right thigh. Finally, his palm came in contact
with the warm and silky skin of Anders’ erection. He caressed and rubbed, just
to see Anders losing his mind as well in front of his very eyes.
“Gods! Fuck me, John,” the blond man demanded, grasping John’s broad shoulders.
  
“I will, my darling” the young lord promised. “But before, there is something I
want to try.”
After having given a long, searing kiss to his husband, John brought him to the
fireplace and made him sit back into the chair he had left a few minutes
earlier. Anders had not resisted and he watched his spouse with an expression
of sheer curiosity.
John kneeled down in front of the armchair and lowered his head to kiss Anders’
hard length through the woolen tartan. The Aklànder moaned and squirmed. John
placed a few more heated kisses on the enticing bulge before he pushed the kilt
up on Anders’ stomach.
The Great Lord  licked his lips, taking in the arousing view. John had no shame
in admitting he loved using his mouth’s skills to pay homage to a man’s cock.
But Anders’ one was especially gorgeous and mouthwatering. Besides, they were
married. Every sound of pleasure John pulled from husband’s throat was an
offering to the spirit who protected their union. And the warrior, in
accordance with his great religious devotion, was always giving those offerings
to the spirit of fire with special dedication.
Anders’ pupils were wide in anticipation. But John had something else in mind.
He placed a light kiss just above his husband’s navel, and then, he turned away
from Anders to pour himself a cup of steamy infusion from the teapot.
John took a sip and observed his lover over the edge of his cup. The Aklànder’s
expression was now more outraged than desire.
It did not bothered the lord. He knew the arousal would come back soon enough.
He couldn’t help a smirk as he tasted the content of his cup again. He was
actually surprised his foxy little man had not already voiced a protest against
that impromptu tea break. But the frustration, helplessness and lust combined
in Anders’ eyes was exquisite and John thought about making him wait just a
little longer.
 
The brunet took a gulp of tea, letting the liquid flow on his tongue and mouth
roof before he swallowed it down. The infusion did not burn his tongue, but it
was still quite hot.
He put his cup down, and without a warning of any sort, he was already back by
the chair and between Anders parted legs. He took the tip of the turgescent
member between his lips. In one, practiced move, he engulfed it to the base
into his mouth that was still hot from the tea. Anders’ breath caught in his
throat and he choked on a curse that sounded more like an exclamation of  mixed
surprise and ecstasy. If the older man was capable of forming a coherent
sentence, he would surely ask John not to stop, but the fingers suddenly
gripping the dark curls  at the back of the lord’s head was as efficient as any
form of speech.
 The brunet knew how his lover felt like, with all that extra heat that
increased the sensation John’s mouth created on his cock. The warrior mentally
thanked Carl Allen for having taught him a few tricks that were unrelated to
weapon handling.
The younger man let his husband reach a first peek of pleasure, and then he
released him from his mouth. He left kisses on both trembling thighs and looked
at Anders through his lashes to judge the success of his experiment.
The blond man’s face was flushed. “Sweet Spirits, John…. that felt so…”
“Hot,” John supplied for his stuttering husband.
“Yes. That was incredible,” Anders emphasized. “Do it again.”
The lord smiled. “At once, my dear.”  
He pushed Anders legs up and over the armrests, exposing him even more - his
kilt like an opened flower corolla around his waist. Anders didn’t seem to mind
being put in that state of utter vulnerability. The blond man found purchase
with his hands grabbing both sides of the backrest. He seemed ready to take
everything John was planning to lavish upon him. John could only marvelled at
the trust in the blue eyes fixed on him. This time, when the young lord took
the tea cup, Anders’ pink lips were not shut in a puzzled and displeased
expression but opened in a sharp intake of air that indicated he knew what
delicious sensation was coming.
John took him into his mouth again.  Anders’ current position gave him new
possibilities to add to the pleasure of his hot lips and tongue around his
shaft. He reached between Anders’ spread buttocks and, with his index, massaged
the sensitive spot in gentle circles.
Anders was louder now: head thrown back and crying his delight to the painted
ceiling.  His hands clenched around the edges of the chair and there was
glistening pearls of sweat on his forehead and throat. John brought him to a
second peak of pleasure before he pulled back. He did not want to bring his
husband to completion before Anders had expressed how he wished to get his
orgasm. Fortunately, Anders was not one to conceal his wants.
“ Fuck me, John! Fuck me now or I swear I’ll-“
John bit down the inside of Anders’ thigh and licked the mark. “What are you
going to do, my fox? I’m curious to hear it.”
“I”m going to leave right now and go back to Brastàl on foot.”
“I would not let you do that,” John warned him as he traced a path of kisses up
his lover’s stomach and chest.
“Then, be a man and give it to me!”
He had been so focused on Anders’ pleasure; it was only now that John realized
how hard and lustful he was himself. He was certainly not going to deprive
himself from relishing in what his consort’s body had to offer.
“Come. I’m not going to take you here. I want to have you on the bed,” John
decided, picking his husband up in his arms without much effort and carrying
him to the bed. Then he removed Anders’ belt and unfolded his kilt before
getting rid of his own. He fetched the oil vial in their trunk, but he already
knew preparing Anders for penetration would be a quick deal. John was still in
awe of his partner’s relaxation capacities. It was like Anders’ body had been
designed to welcome a male lover. John was well-endowed, and while some of his
sex partners had complained about it in the past, Anders never did.  Their
compatibility in bed was another sign that made John believe that the man he
married was indeed the right one. He could only be proud and pleased of the
spirit's’ choice.
 Anders appreciated being fingered, loved it even, writhing in pleasure on the
two pillows John had shoved under his hips. But his impatience showed, and John
was not sure he would be able to wait for long as well. Anders was too tempting
and the lord too ravenous.
John threw his lover’s legs over his shoulders. He turned his head press a kiss
over Anders’ calf muscle.  Fingers gripping Anders’ hips for balance and
contact, John entered the smaller body carefully. A shudder of visceral
pleasure seized him and he groaned from the sensation. Anders’ beautiful skin
was already slicked with sweat; voice and body language begging him to take
what was his, and John let go to that urge.
   
 
                                      ***
Eyes closed, John felt elated, complete and happy. Being a ruler, he was not
often allowed to be that lazy. But now, all he wanted was to bask in that
carefree feeling. The sound of pages being turned made him open his eyes and he
roll over to see what his husband was up to.
Anders lay on his stomach, absorbed by a book resting opened on the pillow.
“You were feeling like reading?” John questioned matter-of-factly
“I’m having some leisure time until you want me again,” Anders replied,
flipping another page.  
The answer made John chuckle. “I’m hard work, am I?”
“You really are. I thought we were here on a holiday,” the consort deadpanned.
 
Anchoring himself on Anders’ opposite hip, John pulled himself closer to his
husband and planted a kiss on Anders’ shoulder. “Is the fair Sir Mitchell
complaining?”
“I’m not complaining,” the blond man replied. His gaze abandoned the page to
find John’s and a little smile stretched his lips. “I have nothing to complain
about.”
John pushed the duvet aside to bare his husband back. He shifted to place his
lips in the curve of his lower back and started trailing open-mouthed kiss up
his spine. “Here is what we are going to do,” he told his lover between kisses,
“you are going to keep on reading until it’s  you  who wants me again.”
Anders agreed with a long hum.
John’s mouth reached his neck and the hum migrated from Anders’ tongue to the
depths of his throat.
“What’s your book about,” John breathed in the blond hair at the nape his neck.
“I don’t know. I forgot.”
***** Impudent *****
Chapter Summary
     My writing blog ( http://a-pen-in-the-paw.tumblr.com ) reached 200
     followers so I opened prompts.
     Maonethedwarf asked for "Hurt Anders in your scottish AU and
     protective John"
     Here it is!
Chapter Notes
     Thanks to Kat for the corrections. :)
John gathered the papers scattered on the table in a neat pile. The meeting
with his advisors was over and he looked forward to a good meal and a well-
deserved pause in his busy day. He still had a few things to sort out, and
then, he would be able to rest.
“George!” he hailed the chief of the guard before he could leave the room.
At his friend’s call, George turned around and walked back to the table.
 “I’d be happy if you accepted my invitation to share the evening meal with
Anders and I,” John said.
George hesitated. He wasn’t hostile to Anders in any way and served him with
the dedication expected from a guard to his lord’s consort, but, just like
Annie, he had seen what wound Anders could inflict to John’s heart, and for
that reason, he was still a bit wary of the man.
“Please, George,” John insisted. “You are my best friend. It’s important for me
that you and the man I love get to know and hopefully appreciate each other.
You can bring Nina along if you want.”
George nodded and smiled. “Fine, yes. I’ll be there.”
John gave him a brilliant grin and a pat on the shoulder. “Perfect. See you
later.”
George left and John lost himself in the reading of one last document. His
brain was not cooperating anymore. His mind drifted to other preoccupations. He
wondered if Anders had had a good day, what he was going to wear for supper…
Someone cleared their throat. John abandoned his reading and lifted his head.
“Your Highness,” the woman began.
“Yes, Mistress MacKinnon. What can I do for you?”
The middle-aged woman had been one of his father’s most capable and valuable
advisors and John was glad she had not decided to retire just yet.
“I know you’ve seen the list of cases for tomorrow’s justice court,” she told
him. “It’s a public trial and the case of the arson is going to attract many
people from everywhere in your land.”
John squinted, trying to figure out where her train of thought was leading. 
“Indeed,” he encouraged her to go on.
“I thought that it would be a good opportunity for your husband to preside his
very first court session with you,” she pointed out.  
“Yes. I was planning on asking him to join me,” John approved. “I think it’s
high time that he takes a more active part in the ruling of our people and
land.”
“It will be good for your image as Great Spouses as well,” she added. “No
offense, my lord, but your marriage is a controversial matter, and it would put
the people’s minds at ease to see you together.”
“None taken,” the Great Lord reassured her with a hint of sadness. He wished he
and Anders were husbands in every aspect, but he had to be patient. He was
running out of time, though. Soon the moon would be over, and then, maybe
Anders would wish to leave for Pineport and John had given his word to help him
settle elsewhere if this was his wish. He forced a smile. “I will speak to my
husband tonight regarding tomorrow’s trial.”  
She curtseyed, thanked him and took her leave. She had just exited the room
when a breathless, young boy shoved past her and barged into the council room.
He hastened to apologize to Mrs MacKinnon who snorted.  Not paying any further
attention to her, the boy rushed toward John. “Your Highne-ness!” he stammered.
He was in such a hurry that he even forgot to bow down in front of his lord as
the protocol required.
John straightened, frowning. “What’s the matter, Kieran?” he asked. The boy was
one of Master Finn’s helpers and when the boy was not working for the stable
master, he sometimes acted as Anders’ personal servant.  
“It’s-it’s Sir Anders, my lord,” Kieran panted. He had been running as fast as
possible to get to John and now he had a hard time catching his breath.
The words were for John like a cold shower. Something serious must have
happened for the boy to be in that state. “What? What happened?” he pressed
him, worried.
Kieran tried to explain. “He hurt his head and there is blood and-“
 “Where is he!?” John cut him off, heart speeding like a hunted stag.  
“It happened in the stables and there was …”
But John was not listening anymore, he was already heading for the door and now
hurried through the Great Hall to the stairs that led to the courtyard, where
the stables were.
There was a little crowd massed in front of the stables’ doors, but when they
saw the Great Lord, they stepped out of the way to let him get inside.
Anders was seated down on a small barrel. He held a piece of cloth pressed to
the side of his head. Blood had dripped down his face, leaving red traces on
his right temple, cheek and down his neck to the collar of his shirt. He looked
angry and miserable.
“Anders! Are you alright? What happened?” John asked him, concerned by the
amount of blood on his face. He put a knee on the ground in front of his
husband.
Anders pulled a face when he saw John. “I’m not dying. I just banged my head on
a piece of wood, and since I have a shit luck, there was an old nail in it. The
blood started spilling. I felt dizzy and fell.” He threw an irritated glare at
the onlookers gathered at the doors of the stables. “Why are there so many
people here?” he groaned.  
“Give us some privacy, please,” John ordered them and the servants, stable boys
and passersby dispersed immediately. Kieran reappeared at the same moment. John
thanked him for having noticed him about Anders’ accident. He dismissed the boy
as well after having reassured him he would take care of his master.
John put a gentle hand over the one of Anders’ that kept the cloth in place.
“Is it still bleeding a lot? Let me have a look.”
“I’m fine,” Anders retorted, moody. “Don’t you have more important work to do?”
 “I want to see if you need stitches.”
“You are not my mother, Mitchell.”
“No, indeed. I’m your husband, which is way worse,” John replied, impassive. He
stood up to get a better view of his spouse’s injured head. “Now let me have a
look at that cut or I’ll be forced to write to Lord Mikkel and tell him that
you are not being very cooperative,” he teased.
“Mike can go fuck himself.” Anders hissed, but he removed his hand and the
cloth nonetheless.
“That’s my boy,” John replied as he inspected the bleeding cut in the blond
curls.  “It doesn’t look too deep but I think stitches will be needed.”  He
helped Anders back on his feet. “Let’s go back to our room. I’ll clean the
blood off your hair.”
Anders grumbled something that John didn’t catch, but he followed him
nonetheless.
 John sent a maid in town to call for a healer and he asked another to fetch
him warm water in a bowl and clean cloths. He kept Anders distracted with a
goblet of whisky as he cleaned his neck, his face and his head. Master Sileas
sent one of his assistants who closed Anders’ cut with three stitches as the
consort protested in sharp intakes of air and a few good curses.
“How’s your head feeling? Does it hurt a lot?” John enquired once the healer
was gone.
“And you?” Anders gave back. “Does it hurt when you hatch your mother-hen
eggs?”
John sniggered. “I’m glad to see you’re going to be fine.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The snark, mainly,” John deadpanned. His husband was about as beautiful as he
was insolent. Coming from anybody else, that rebuff would have made him leave
right away, but coming from Anders, it elicited a very different reaction.
Anders took pleasure in messing with him and it drove John crazy in more than
one way. All John wanted was to bend his impudent husband over the bed, see if
he could turn that smug smirk into a moan or a plea. He took the bottle of
whisky from the table and chased that fantasy from his mind in order to ask:
“Do you want to rest or do you want us to stay with you?”
Anders raised an eyebrow. “Us?”
“Me and the bottle,” John reply, shaking it in his hand.  
“Yes… yes you may stay with me… and the whisky as well.”
 
 
End Notes
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