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It wasn’t part of the original plan, but all things considered, they were pretty lucky to manage to hitch a ride on a carriage headed for Dagda. Especially considering the possibility of having to make the journey on foot. Sure, the carriage wouldn’t take them the whole way, but halfway there was better than nothing.
Linhardt still wasn’t looking forward to making their way the last several miles to their destination, but he as trying to stay positive.
Even with a bit of a nip in the air, it was nice being able to lay back and watch the clouds roll by, stretched out on a bed of hay, enjoying the breeze and the sound of birds chirping in the trees lining either side of the path. The gentle movement of the carriage and the steady clopping of the horses’ hooves in the mud could very well lull him right to sleep…
“When we get to Dagda I’m gonna get my hands on one of those rare silver lances,” Caspar said, plopping down next to him. “They make them different there than they do in Fódlan. Did you know that? Temper the metal differently and it makes them hold their edge way longer – Shamir had one that could split a horse hair right in half! Lengthwise!”
Well, maybe a nap was out of the question for the moment. What with Caspar being…Caspar. Linhardt sighed, plenty content to talk instead, as long as he could stay pleasantly horizontal. “Do you intend to steal one and get us locked up?” he asked. “I’m sure that Dagdan silver lances don’t come cheap and we’re not exactly swimming in gold.”
“Of course I’m not gonna steal anything,” Caspar huffed. “I dunno, maybe if I prove my warrior’s prowess-“
“Ah, I see. You’re planning on being hailed as a hero and gifted legendary weapons to aid you on your noble quest.” Linhardt nudged him in the calf with one foot. “The unstoppable Lightning Caspar.”
Caspar shoved Linhardt’s foot down onto the hay with a snort. “Quit it already. I’m making this up as I go.”
“We’re making everything up as we go these days.” He yawned, letting his eyes slide closed again. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s much less of a bore than anything else we could be doing.”
He didn’t open his eyes, but felt Caspar lie down next to him on the hay. Caspar sighed, a content little sound, their bodies brushing together from shoulder to hip. “It is pretty exciting, huh? Just imagine…before too long, we’ll be in Dagda. A whole new country. Somewhere completely different from Fódlan. New culture, new food, new language-“ He sat up again, a worried furrow in his brow when Linhardt opened one eye to glance up at him. “Oh man, I don’t even speak Dagdan. Not at all.”
“They speak common tongue in Dagda too, you know.”
“But isn’t that rude, just…assuming?” He sighed. “I should have tried to learn some from Shamir. Even just a little. I can’t even say ‘hello’ or ‘where is the bathroom’.”
“Just stick with me then. I can help translate.”
A second later, Caspar was leaning over him, eyes wide mouth hanging open in shock as he jolted Linhardt out of his little half-nap. “You speak Dagdan?”
“Enough to get by,” Linhardt sighed. Seemed he would have to get a bit more vertical after all. Pity. He sat up and rolled his shoulders, brushing the hay out of his hair. “A little Brigid too, though I’ve forgotten most of what Petra taught me.”
“How did you learn Dagdan?”
“There’s a surprising amount of interesting crest research that comes out of Dagda, considering how little crests influence their culture and politics.” He shrugged. “Granted, I can read it much better than I can speak it, but I’m sure I could manage to find you a bathroom in a pinch.”
Caspar still looked like he was turning that information over and over in his head. Honestly, it was like Linhardt had told him he could grow a third arm on command. “How did I not know this?” he mused. “All this time, and I never knew you spoke Dagdan.”
“It never came up.”
“But we’re married,” Caspar insisted, a flush of pink creeping onto his cheeks. He still hadn’t gotten quite used to saying that yet. Truth be told, Linhardt hadn’t quite gotten used to hearing it either. “You’d think I’d know something like that at this point.”
Linhardt couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pluck a piece of hay from behind Caspar’s ear. “It never came up,” he said again. “Besides, I don’t think it’s possible for you to know absolutely everything about me. Even if we are married.”
“How many languages do you speak then?”
“That’s it, really. Common tongue of Fódlan and a little bit of Dagdan. A few phrases of Brigid that I would probably butcher horribly. Oh, and one or two ancient languages, but considering that they’re long dead it’s not exactly helpful.”
“Huh…” He grinned. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Smart as you are, it makes sense you’d need more than one language to fill up that big brain of yours.”
“Yes, I just had so much spare room that I simply had to fill it up with more ways to order a leg of lamb.” Linhardt patted Caspar’s cheek. “There’s got to be a thing or two about you that I don’t know yet.”
“Doubt it. I’m an open book, ya know.”
“Please. I know better than anyone that you’re nothing if not surprising.” He leaned back against a bale of hay, arms resting comfortably over his crossed legs as he surveyed Caspar with an easy smile. “Go on, try and surprise me. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
Caspar blinked. “You serious?”
“We’ve got plenty of time to kill,” Linhardt said, shrugging.
“Okay…” His brow furrowed, lips pursed, and Linhardt swore he could smell wood burning between his ears. “Hm…I’m…allergic to pine nuts.”
“Knew that. Did you forget how sick you got the first week at the monastery because you neglected to tell the kitchen staff?”
“Oh, right. Uh…I’m afraid of deep water.”
“When we caught that ferry across the Abyssal Lake you spent the entire time looking like you were going to be sick.”
“Ugh…don’t remind me.”
Laughing, Linhardt nudged him again. “Try something else.”
Caspar caught his lip between his teeth, and after a few quiet moments, he started to turn pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His eyes darted toward the carriage driver, whose back was still turned toward them.
“Caspar,” Linhardt prodded. “What are you thinking about?”
“N…nothing.”
“That’s a lie and you know it. Come on, did you finally think of something that will surprise me?”
“I…I don’t really want to say,” he whispered. “You know…” He nodded toward the carriage driver, the pink tint in his cheeks deepening even more.
“Caspar, did you forget already? He’s mostly deaf.” Linhardt reached out and pressed his fingers against Caspar’s jaw, turning his face away from the carriage driver and back toward him. “He’s not going to be privy to any big, embarrassing secrets you might have. I, on the other hand, and dying to know just what’s making you blush so hard.”
“Uh…well…” He kept his gaze focused on the trees lining the road, scratching at the back of his neck as he said, “I guess there’s one thing I’ve never told you. About…this thing…I’ve always been a little…curious about?”
“Oh? Any chance I can help sate that curiosity of yours?”
“N-no! I mean, maybe? Ah, well…ugh, it’s embarrassing…”
“I figured as much, considering how your face is redder than a strawberry.”
“Liiiin…”
“Go on,” Linhardt chuckled. “I’m hardly going to judge you.”
One deep, steadying breath later, Caspar nodded. “Okay. Okay…well…I guess I’ve always had this little…tiny…fantasy…about you and me…you know…” He made a vague gesture with one hand – waving it through the air as if to say etcetera. “But somewhere…a little more open. Er…public…”
Linhardt’s eyebrows felt like they made their way up to his hairline. “Public sex?”
“When you say it like that, it just sounds gross.”
“But that’s what you’re saying right?” A smirk spread across Linhardt’s face, elation bubbling up in his chest. “My my, Caspar…are you saying you have an exhibitionist streak in you?”
“It’s just a fantasy! Not like we’d ever do it – and it’s not a streak if you don’t actually follow through with it!”
“What makes you think we couldn’t follow through with it?”
Caspar sputtered. “Obviously I’m not gonna fuck you in the middle of the street or something, Lin!”
“Obviously, but that’s not what this is about, is it?” He leaned closer, hooking his finger under the collar of Caspar’s shirt, pulling him forward until he could rest his other hand on the back of his neck. “It’s not about people seeing us. It’s about…the possibility that they might. The thrill of knowing that someone could walk in at any moment and catch you.”
Caspar gulped.
“It’s not like you want to be caught at all. That would defeat the purpose. But thinking that someone could…it’s exhilarating, don’t you think?”
“How…” He sounded like his throat had gone entirely dry. “How do you figure…?”
Now Linhardt’s face was feeling a bit more warm than the chilly air would have normally allowed. “Well…you might not be the only one who’s turned that particular fantasy over in your head once or twice.”
“R-really? Wait, you – you want to-“
“I certainly wouldn’t turn my nose up at the idea.”
“Lin…are you serious? Are you being serious right now? Because if you’re just messing with me-“
“I’m not messing with you.” Oh, now an idea popped into his head. His hand moved down from Caspar’s neck to his shoulder, rubbing his arm, meandering over his chest… “In fact…if you wanted to give it a try, well…like I said, we do have plenty of time to kill.”
“Now I know you’re messing with me.”
Instead of answering, Linhardt let his hands wander down to the hem of Caspar’s shirt, and then up under it.
“Lin…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“What if another carriage passes us?”
“There hasn’t been a single other carriage on this road for miles.”
“What if the driver turns around?”
“He won’t.”
“But what if-“
“What if?” Linhardt repeated, pulling Caspar closer until he had his husband comfortably settled between his legs. “That’s the point, isn’t it? The possibility of being caught…” His heart pounded in his ears, heat blazing in his belly, and from the flush high on Caspar’s cheeks and the unmistakable poke against his thigh, Linhardt was pretty certain the feeling was mutual. He leaned in closer, fingers toying with the waistband of Caspar’s pants. “So…do you want me to stop?”
Caspar shook his head. “N…no…”
Linhardt hummed, hand slipping down the front of Caspar’s pants, finding him already half hard. Caspar’s teeth pressed down against his own lip. “Ah…Lin…”
“Probably still ought to stay quiet…just to be on the safe side.”
“R-right…”
Arms thrown around Caspar’s neck, Linhardt tugged him down on top of him on the hay, reveling in just how enthusiastically Caspar kissed him. “Think you can manage that?” he asked with a smirk.
Caspar pouted. “Hey, I can be quiet, thank you very much.”
“Mm…previous experience doesn’t inspire much confidence in that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not complaining – I happen to enjoy hearing your…shall we call it spirited encouragement?”
“Hey, you can be loud too,” Caspar reminded him, and Linhardt shot him a smirk.
“Hm…I can be. Do you want me to be?”
“N-no, no…quiet is…is fine…”
Caspar’s face was redder than Linhardt had ever seen it, a deep furrow in his brow, and from the way his hips were already rocking against Linhardt’s thigh, it seemed like it was from something other than embarrassment.
“My…” Linhardt mused. “You really have managed to surprise me.”
Caspar muffled a moan and curse against Linhard’t neck. “I didn’t think you’d actually…ah, fuck…go for this…”
With one hand stroking slow, soothing circles on Caspar’s hip and his other stroking something else, Linhardt smirked up at him. “You know I’m always excited to try new things. Especially with you.” He leaned up to nip at Caspar’s ear. “Especially when they get you this riled up.”
Caspar just grunted in response, pressing his mouth firmly against Linhardt’s and rocking against his hand, groaning as he fucked his fist. Part of Linhardt would have liked more than this – to really let Caspar truly take him right here in the back of the carriage. A true blue roll in the hay, as it were. But for now he was more than happy just to watch Caspar come apart for him thanks to nothing but his hand.
More quickly than he was expecting, to be honest.
Caspar cried out only once, a choked “Oh, goddess, Lin…” when Linhardt pressed his thumb against the head of Caspar’s cock and felt him quiver and gasp and come all over his hand. Afterward, the solid weight of his husband’s limp body pressed against his chest, Caspar’s head resting on his shoulder.
“Well,” Linhardt said with a smile. “Suppose I’d call that a success.”
“Yeah…” Caspar muttered, giggling quietly as he pressed one last kiss to the side of Linhardt’s neck. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“I’m an academic.”
“Whatever you want to call it-“ Suddenly, he stiffened. “Shit, get down!”
A second later, Linhardt was being pressed unceremoniously into the hay, the air crushed out of his lungs in one muted “Oof!” Caspar was hunched over him, eyes wide and face almost as red as before. “Caspar, what on earth-“
And then there it was – the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats on the other side of the road, approaching, passing, drifting into the distance…
“Do you think they saw us?” Caspar whispered.
“Relax,” replied the carriage driver. “I’m sure they didn’t notice a thing.” And a moment later: “And I’m only deaf in one ear, just for the record.”
Caspar looked like he was going to burst into flames, but all Linhardt could do was laugh until he thought his lungs were going to give out.
When they reached their stop, Caspar emptied his coin purse into the driver’s hand without meeting his eye.