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"Let us meet here again, Robert Gadling, in this tavern of the White Horse in 100 years."
The past century had left Hob scrambling for theories as to who the dark-clothed Lord he'd met in the pub that night was. From the little he'd observed, the man appeared to be wealthy, from the way he dressed to the exquisite jewel around his neck. His face was chiselled and almost other-worldly (for a moment, Hob had assumed him a beautiful woman, and would've considered attempting to take her home for the night until he spoke), and his voice deep and commanding.
When it became clear he wasn't aging, and whatever bargain he'd made with this strange Lord was in fact real, Hob began researching what he could. What manner of creature was this, and was he expecting anything in return for granting Hob immortality? Did he now owe his soul to the devil?
Here he was, back in the White Horse, shifting nervously as he waited for his Stranger to appear in their place of meeting, as agreed before. Would this be when he was informed of his end of their deal? Over the years, he'd considered what this Lord would ask of him in return. His soul? Perhaps it'd be worth it if he got to keep living like this. Losing his soul was almost the better option, as he'd considered others he may be asked to fulfil…
What if this Lord wished to use his body? What if, at the end of his life, he was to become his property, to be kept in service for the rest of time?
Hob had tried not to think too deeply into that. Sure, the Lord was incredibly beautiful, almost in a feminine manner, and he certainly hoped that would help him to enjoy it as much as he was able to.
So he'd gotten on with his life, and pushed aside any of these thoughts until today, when he hoped the Lord would make it clear to him.
There he was, taking the seat across from him at the pub.
"How did you know… that I'd still be here?"
The Lord was regal and intimidating as he had been a hundred years ago. Hob thought he would go for it, and learn what was to be expected of him right away.
"Who are you? A wizard? A… a saint? A demon? Have I made a bargain with the devil?"
"No," the Lord said, his face blank and eyes almost sparkling.
There was no way this man was human.
"Then why aren't I dead long since? Is this some kind of game?"
"No game."
Hob felt himself woozy with nerves, surely this strange Lord had to have some reason behind giving him this gift? What was it he wanted?
"But why? Who are you? Why are you here?"
"I'm here because I'm interested."
Fuck, there it was. Hob hoped he would still get to at least live some kind of life in this world (eternal or otherwise) before becoming the plaything of this Lord. When did this deal end? How long would he get before this became his fate?
"In me?"
The Lord paused, leaning back in his seat with a small smirk on his perfect lips.
"Perhaps. As well as your experience."
Hob swallowed. "What do I have to do?"
"You live your life as you choose. Then on this day, every 100 years, we will meet," the Lord began. "And after each meeting, I will have you join me in the chambers upstairs."
Well, that certainly wasn't as bad as he was expecting. It wasn't ideal either, but Hob would clearly still get to live his life as normal for the rest of the century. Perhaps the Lord would simply perform supernatural experiments upon him in the chambers? Hob twitched nervously, no matter what was going to be done to him, the Lord wanted him to remain alive afterwards. So he could get through it, right?
It wasn't like he could say no, as this Lord had the power over his immortality. So as long as he got to keep it, he would do whatever was expected of him.
He exhaled shakily. "As you wish. You wanna know what it's like, don't you?"
"All right. I'll tell you what it's like."
The mention of fleas had not deterred the Lord's motivations. After confirming he still wanted to live, Hob was shepherded possessively under the Lord's arm to a room he seemed to have procured above the pub.
Maybe he'd get to keep his soul. Maybe this would be quick, whatever it was, and Hob could run back to his life and pretend it never happened.
The room was basic, the straw bed in the centre, and a tub for bathing in the corner.
"You shall undress. Then present yourself to me on the bed."
"Yes, my Lord. What are you going to do?" Hob nervously began shedding his clothes, feeling uncomfortably exposed before this man he barely knew. At least he'd still be alive at the end of it.
The dark creature preened as he observed Hob's nudity. "You will only address me as such in these moments. Here, your purpose is to bring me pleasure, Robert Gadling."
"Y—yes, my Lord," Hob stuttered, making his way to the bed. This creature, or Lord, or whatever he was, better be as powerful as he seemed because there was no way Hob wanted a risk of them getting caught doing this, he would definitely be the one facing the punishment for unnatural acts, and the Lord would likely get away with it because of his power and wealth.
Maybe he would be saved from an eternity burning in hell if went along with the Lord's command. Or maybe he actually was a devil, tempting him towards sin.
His religious beliefs weren't as concrete as others. There was nothing he could do right now, so he tried not to think too hard.
The Lord was towering above him, still fully clothed. His lips parted, his eyes turned dark. He stood at the end of the bed, looking down his nose at Hob.
"Come closer," he murmured, and Hob reluctantly obeyed, hanging his legs off the end of the bed. He was breathing heavily, eyes screwed shut in fear.
The Lord hummed in appreciation, and Hob felt a hand on his thigh, shoving it up towards his chest. He followed with the other, presenting himself fully at the mercy of the creature above him.
"Yes, good," the deep rumbling voice purred, sharp nails digging into Hob's skin. He felt a shimmer of something wash over his body, and he gasped in surprise. His persistent itching, and the slight grease in his hair appeared to be gone.
"I shall indulge myself now." Hands pushed his thighs back further, and Hob almost felt bent in half. He winced, pain shooting through his hips and legs at the awkward position. The Lord's robes rustled, and Hob figured he now knew where this was going.
If he squinted, perhaps he could pretend the creature between his legs was a beautiful woman. Just a woman, with a deep voice, who also happened to be about to bugger him.
"Is it going to hurt?" his voice trembled, closing his eyes again when he felt a blunt pressure press against his hole.
"You must relax," the Lord rumbled, pressing himself further forward. "I shall take my pleasure from you. Allow me in."
Hob's legs were cramping from how far apart and far back they were spread. He was the opposite of relaxed, every part of his body tense and reluctant to let the creature enter.
"Sorry, my Lord. I—I've never done this before," Hob breathed in sharply when the slick head of the Lord's cock pushed past his tight rim. It stung, to be expected as the Lord was well endowed. His length was thick and cold, pulsing with arousal as it breached Hob's body further.
The Lord breathed heavily above him, deep little grunts as his nails dug further into Hob's skin. He would definitely be marked from this, his legs were almost going numb from cramp and lack of blood flow. His back was beginning to kill him, having been lifted into the air in the strong grip and half way off the bed. If this was going to hurt, Hob made sure he tried to focus on any kind of pleasure he would receive from this. Women enjoyed being taken like this, so surely there was a way he could see it that way as well. Despite the girth that was sliding deeper inside him feeling completely strange, intruding and quite painful, Hob found himself gradually becoming half hard.
"Perfect," the Lord groaned, now fully inside him. "All mine. Aren't you, my human?"
Hob tossed his head back, blushing in embarrassment as the deep voice caused his cock to twitch further. "Yes, Lord, yours—"
He was cut off with a cry as the creature shallowly, but harshly, fucked into him. The stinging pain was slowly fading now, despite the ache over the rest of his body. The Lord's cock was so far in his body, touching all these places he never knew could make him feel such pleasure. Perhaps he was getting off a little at being under the control of another.
His cock was fully hard now, his bright red and stretched hole fluttering around the creature above him. The little growls, short breaths coming from above only served to make more blood pool between his legs. The next moment, the Lord was pulling out, almost to the tip, then sliding himself back in harshly so his balls slapped Hob's skin.
Pain and pleasure shot through him, Hob moaned loudly as his body arched into the Lord's bruising grip. For a moment, the thought of belonging so entirely to this dark creature, who was buried inside his body, sent a shiver through him and made him harder still.
All thoughts were shaken from his head when the pace of thrusts sped up, nails clawing and surely making his skin bleed, and cock impaling him over and over. His head rolled to the side, cries of pleasure and pain getting louder as the lewd slaps of their skin became more frequent. Despite the pain, the slide of the thick cock currently pounding him senseless was also bringing him closer to orgasm, and his own cock was leaking considerably.
When he managed to squint his eyes open, he expected the sight to not appeal at all. Instead it did the opposite, pushing him closer to the edge still. He was beyond pretending the Lord was a woman now, as he clearly wasn't, but somehow he was still enjoying being fucked into the bed by a creature who appeared male. His black hair was wild and his eyes closed as grunts of pleasure wheezed from his lips at every deep thrust.
This creature appeared to have unlimited stamina, and didn't appear to be tiring at all, his thrusts just as wild and harsh as when he started. Hob was screaming out at this point, the Lord's cock hammering a particular spot inside him repeatedly, making the pleasure overtake the pain. He was sure everyone in the pub would hear how completely he was being taken apart, as well as the wet slide of the Lord's cock into his open body.
The next few thrusts began to stutter, and the Lord's breathing faltered, a low groan passing his lips as Hob felt ropes of cum spill inside of him. It felt good, so fucking good, the even wetter slide of his Lord riding out his release bringing Hob right to the edge, his throat hoarse from moaning—
Then he was empty, cum dripping out of his loose hole. The Lord was panting, and redoing his robes up.
"Wait—" Hob wheezed, his body dropped back to the bed. The Lord looked at him darkly, almost longingly, before he began to stride away towards the door.
"You never told me who you are!"
It was too late, the Lord had vanished, and Hob was left alone on the bed with blood and bruises on his hips, and his hole stinging and leaking cum. He sighed, tossed his head back, got his hand around his aching cock and finished himself off with only thoughts of his Lord in his mind, and the pleasant pain all over his body.
The next century had given Hob Gadling plenty of gifts, and some part of him felt they were almost a gift from the strange Lord he spoke with. A blessing for his service at the end of their last meeting.
After that new experience he'd had, Hob had begun living more recklessly and sleeping around. With men as well as women. It'd awakened something in him, and despite having more hook ups with men than he could keep count of, none of them ever compared to the feeling of being claimed by his Lord.
Eventually, he ended up settling down. A lovely women called Eleanor, whom he ended up marrying and having a child with. He lived in luxury now, and had been sleeping with a lot less men since the sodomy law was introduced (he'd always been very careful about it, but recently he'd almost given it up in fear of losing regard with the monarchy). Of course the sleeping around came to an end when he met his now wife, who he was happy with. Even though he knew the years they'd get were limited.
Then came the issue of the meeting with his Stranger. Eleanor was a religious woman, much like most people in this time. He'd told her he was meeting with an old friend, who he hadn't seen since he was young. Which was partly true, if you ignored the extra decades. She would undoubtedly insist he get an exorcism if she knew the truth, believing him to be bargaining with a devil. Hob could not risk losing the love of his life and his son.
There was also the problem that the Lord would not care he was wed to another, and would continue the other part of their bargain. Hob was a greedy man, and life had shown him so many more pleasures this century, and he wasn't going to risk losing his immortality. No matter how much it pained him to be unfaithful to Eleanor, he would have to submit himself once more.
This time, he'd learned from his extra experiences of laying with other men. Before their meeting, he'd procured a jar of oil, and fingered himself loose and open. It would likely not hurt as it did the last time, and it wasn't as if Hob didn't end up enjoying it. He just had the guilt of betraying his wife on his conscience this time.
So he'd set a massive table full of the best food, and prepared the best tales to impress his Lord.
Oh.
His hair was shorter, slicked back. His long, lean body in tight leather clothing.
Hob swallowed hard, greeting the Stranger and inviting him to his table.
He began to bristle with jealousy as his Lord showed more attention to the bloody crap playwright across the room than his tales of Knighthood and his family.
"Anyway, I've saved the best bit for last—"
"Hob. Follow me," the Lord was at his feet, and in an instant he was almost dragging Hob out the back of the pub.
"My Lord," he said breathlessly, gasping as he was bent over a barrel by strong hands. "Were you not impressed with my tales?"
"We must be swift," the deep voice was against his ear, and Hob couldn't retort as his breaches were being yanked to his ankles and the familiar press of his Lord's hard cock was on his hole.
"Anyone could see us like this," Hob whispered fearfully. "My Lord, shouldn't we go somewhere more private?"
His lips parted, a harsh moan punched out as his Lord slid right up to the hilt inside of him. Hob collapsed forward onto his arms, gasping for the air that refused to fill his lungs. Adrenaline coursed through him, blood rushing to his cock.
"No one shall see," the creature purred behind him, fingers digging back into his hips and pulling his body back against him. "I have matters to attend to elsewhere. I must take my pleasure from you with haste."
At least this time, Hob barely hurt from the intrusion. He ignored the guilt as he bent himself over, spreading his legs and allowing his Lord to pound into him. Hob dug his teeth into his fist, trying to muffle the pleasured cries as he was split in half by this beautiful creature.
Quickly, the Lord's grunts and growls became almost feral. Hob almost drew blood from his skin with how hard his teeth dug in, failing to stop the loud moans he was making as he was once again filled up with his Lord's warm spend. His breath caught, clenching himself around the softening prick inside him. The moan he earned was high pitched and so beautiful.
Once again Hob was left without his own release, whimpering as the creature pulled himself out and the grip of his fingers left his hips.
He panted heavily, sensing his Lord would be leaving swiftly.
"The queen herself slept at my house this summer," he said, feeling his loose hole clench around nothing, and drops of cum leak out. "That was expensive."
Before he could even try and entice him with another tale, his Lord had vanished back inside and was talking to that idiot he'd mentioned earlier.
Hob sighed, his cock achingly hard between his legs. Of course his Stranger could spare time for a conversation with a useless playwright, but not for his tales of the century or even letting him finish for once.
It was quite undignified of him in the position he was now. But he'd been left so desperate, and Hob couldn't help but finger himself to orgasm using the cum still inside him as lubricant. With the other round his cock, it only took him a few tugs and thrusts against his prostate. Even if he did enjoy that, he had to forget it happened. Until the next century. Eleanor could never find out. Maybe he'd go straight to confession and rid himself of the guilt eating at him.
"Everything to live for. And nowhere to go but up."
The following century was not so kind to Hob. He'd been through everything, to hell and back, losing his land and family, experiencing famine so severe he almost considered begging for death to take him.
Somehow he managed to drag himself to meet with his Stranger, looking completely filthy and unkempt. There would be no way he'd find Hob appealing tonight, and with the lack of food sex had been the last thing on his mind for a while. He couldn't even remember when he last laid with someone.
Perhaps tonight would give him a bit of a break from it all, with food and tales for his Lord, and the sex that came afterwards.
After fighting with the staff, Hob was finally allowed to sit opposite the ethereal dark creature before him as he stuffed his face with food. The Lord gazed upon him, observing as he shovelled food down his gullet in the most unattractive manner. His beauty had only increased since their last meeting, long black hair framing that sharp face.
Hob went off about this century, how he'd lost everything, his wife, his newborn baby, as well as his Robyn. How he hadn't went out much, had been tried as a witch for staying around too long. Everything had gotten worse, he'd hated every single second.
"So do you still wish to live?"
Hob laughed, he'd just tasted food for the first time in weeks. "Are you crazy?"
The Lord's face lit up with wonder.
"Death's a mug's game. I got so much to live for."
Dark eyes pinned him down across the table. His lips were parted, all attention on Hob.
"Now can we order? 'Cos I'm about to eat the fucking table."
The creature at the other end rose to his feet, making his way round towards Hob in an almost predatory manner as he continued to lick every last crumb from his fingers.
A hand slamming on the table in front of him broke Hob out of his food-induced trance.
"My Lord?"
He could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "On your feet. There is business we must attend to."
Hob exhaled shakily, rising out of his chair to face the dark creature before him. He turned on his heels, heading for the rooms above the pub. Hob followed obediently, mostly excited to see a nice bed for the first time in forever.
The door slammed behind him. The rooms were more done up than they'd been when they'd been here together last, and from the positioning of the window, Hob was sure it was the same room as well.
"God's wounds, I've missed having a bed!" Hob collapsed back onto the fluffy pillows. "Should I prepare myself, my Lord?"
The Lord stalked up to the bed, towering over him. "You are in quite the state, Hob Gadling. I almost denied myself this evening upon seeing you. Rid yourself of those rags."
Hob found his stomach dropping at that. He was so filthy and unappealing, he almost put his Lord completely off of taking pleasure from him? It'd come to a point where he didn't seek approval from just his tales of life, but from being good and giving his Lord pleasure. He'd almost been looking forward to this part.
His clothes were tossed aside in an instant, and Hob almost gagged at the smell of himself. Luckily it didn't last long, as the Lord's strange magic washed over him, and he felt clean for once. It was sublime.
He exhaled shakily, anticipation building as the Lord made his own trousers vanish. The skin beneath them was perfectly smooth and shockingly pale, the gorgeous swollen cock standing between his legs and just under his long coat. Hob spread his legs as the Lord settled between them, hands grabbing Hob's pecs. He gasped as nails dragged down his skin, making their way to his thighs which were shoved apart.
"'Tis been a while," Hob chuckled, his own cock getting harder at the sight in front of him. "Don't want to disappoint."
"Oh, Hob," the creature purred, shoving his legs back up to his chest and making Hob wince a little. "You are most fascinating to me."
The praise made him keen, and he breathed heavily and tried to relax as he felt that familiar intrusion between his legs. Hob tossed his head back on the pillow, opening himself up fully and ignoring the slight pain that tore through him as he was filled completely.
Every exhale came with a breathy moan. His breath was coming frantically, overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness after so much suffering in his life. His body was trembling, shocks of pleasure rushing through him as he was hauled onto the Lord's lap, gasping in pleasure as those nails dug back into his hips.
A few shallow thrusts and Hob was moaning like a whore, feeling the pressure building in his gut so quickly. His cock was spurting and leaking so much, and he wouldn't last long at all. Long curtains of hair covered his Lord's beautiful face, screwed up and tensed in pleasure as he picked up the pace.
"Yes, yes! P—please, more!"
Hob's hands grasped at the sheets, sweat dripping down his brow and after the next few deep thrusts, he felt himself tense and cry out, cum shooting across his chest. The rhythm didn't falter, prolonging his release and Hob swore he was floating as the wave kept rushing through him, groans and grunts passing his lips. They became strained as his Lord continued fucking him into overstimulation, and his body began to tremor and shake and too much, he was so sensitive and heaving in breaths.
"L—Lord," Hob cried out, held still by the forceful grip on his hips. "I—I can't—"
He was then bent further in half, legs being pushed up to his shoulders. Hob grunted, wailing as the Lord started to slam into him at a brutal pace, the angle making his cock reach deeper. Hob could almost feel him so deep he was hitting the back of his throat. Which was going raw already, from writhing and screaming at the onslaught of sensation.
When his Lord finally spilled inside him, Hob hissed as it leaked out of his aching rim. He looked so beautiful, riding out his release, using Hob's body for his pleasure, that Hob didn't care at all about any of the pain he felt. When he slid out, Hob sighed in discomfort, the pain between his legs sharp and pulsing. He found himself rather enjoying the pain, however, already missing the Lord's cock inside of him.
The next moment, while Hob was still catching his breath, he felt long hair brush against his inner thighs. He spread them instinctively, feeling the pain shoot through him from his gaping hole. When he felt lips press to his entrance, his hips jolted and he gasped in shock. His body curved up towards his Lord, broken whines and cries pouring from his lips as a tongue lapped across the sore flesh.
It was almost soothing, to have that soft pressure on a place where he ached and hurt. He almost felt his cock twitch again, trying desperately to get hard. Lips and tongue were sliding over him, sucking the cum out of his body. Hob cried in frustration when it was over too soon, the tongue darting out to lick the remains from his Lord's lips.
Before he could even speak, begin to thank his Lord for doing that for him, he was back on his feet and out of the room. Hob sighed, laying back and enjoying the boneless and relaxed feeling in his body.
He spent hours in the bath tub, almost crying in joy at finally being able to properly clean himself. It was after that, he found out that this room had been reserved under his name for the next week. He smiled for the entire remainder of the evening, knowing that even if he would never show or admit it, his Stranger must care for him somewhere deep down.
Another century went by, this time with a lot more positive stories for Hob to tell at their meeting. Life was looking up this time, and Hob was in a much better position than he had been at their last meeting. He'd even remembered to stretch himself on his fingers before this meeting as well.
As soon as he'd seen the handsome Stranger sit opposite him, he'd started rambling away. About the French, the possibility of a revolution, stashing away money and his new career in the shipping business. That earned stern disapproval from his Lord.
"It's a poor thing for one man to enslave another."
"It's just how it's done."
The Stranger stared him down, suggesting he found a different line of business. Hob argued, wondering why he was trying to give him advice after 400 years, after he told him to live his life as he chose.
"The choice is yours. But would you take that choice away from others?"
Maybe the Lord had a point. "I will consider your advice."
Then he went on to mention a production he'd seen from Will Shakespeare. Asking if 200 years ago, perhaps his Stranger had made some kind of deal with him. Of course the answer he gave was as cryptic as ever, and Hob felt another flush of jealousy as he remembered the time bloody Shaxberd was chosen over his own company.
When he felt daring enough to pry further, ask who this dark creature was, his name, they were rudely interrupted by a fair lady who was flanked by two guards. Hob frowned, for a moment he felt his Stranger may have actually given him an answer.
She began to threaten them both, the guards beside her ready to slit their throats if they moved. The woman showed them a sketch of them both, that she had apparently found sewn into the shirt of a dead man.
Hob cringed, they both looked awful in that picture and he said that out loud.
This did not stop the woman. She appeared to know of their centennial arrangement, and demanded they tell her what manner of creatures they were. After introducing herself finally as Lady Johanna Constantine, she ordered them to follow her to her coach.
Of course, they both declined. This started a fight with the guards, where Hob leapt to his feet, besting the pair of them within moments.
"Wait," the Lord stood behind him, blowing some kind of dust from his hands in the direction of Lady Johanna. She dropped to her knees, whispering nonsense with a faraway stare.
Apparently, the Lord had shown her 'old ghosts'. There's no way that wasn't pixie dust in his hands, or something of the sort. Further proving Hob's point about him being a creature from another realm. Probably fae or fairy.
"You need not have come to my defence," his Stranger was staring darkly through his lashes, his expression similar to the one of lust Hob had seen during their past sexual encounters.
"Clearly," Hob chirped back, hand fiddling with his ear. "Still, I didn't want to be drinking alone here in 100 years time."
He suggested finding another pub. His Stranger avoided the question, concerned for his safety, telling him to be cautious.
"Always."
Then his Stranger was stalking over to him, entering his space. That same glint was in his eyes.
"Before I take my leave," he gripped the lapel of Hob's coat. "I believe there is a part of our arrangement that remains unattended to."
The breath left Hob's lungs. "Yes. It seems there is."
The dark, predatory look crossed his Stranger's pale face. "Follow me."
This time, Hob found himself against the wall of an empty corridor somewhere in the building. His Lord was mouthing at his neck and stripping him of clothing. Hob's heart raced, but they hadn't been caught the last time they did this so publicly, and he hoped to God it'd be the same now.
Hob breathed heavily as he was hoisted against the wall, legs spread wide and impaled easily on his Stranger's hard cock. His head thumped backwards, lips parted in a loud moan as he was praised for being so loose already. He surrendered himself to being fucked hard into the creaking wall, the harsh slaps of flesh and thumping of the wall undoubtedly drawing attention to them. Hob was too lost in it, he found himself not caring as his Lord's coat brushed his hard cock, giving it the friction he craved so desperately.
Huge, purple bruises were being sucked into his neck, and Hob felt it when his Lord finally finished, the feeling inside him pushing Hob over the edge too. He was fucked through the aftershocks, and they were panting into each other's skin and leaning on the wall.
Almost for a second, his Stranger looked as though he was about to kiss Hob when he pulled back. Hob closed his eyes in anticipation, realising that yes, he would let him. Of course. But the moment was gone, and his heart sunk.
"A hundred years, then?" Hob panted, as he struggled to put his clothes back on.
"A hundred years," the Lord agreed, fully clothed and disappearing round the corner. Hob huffed in frustration, he was determined that one day, he would finally be able to get his Lord to stay after the amazing sex they had.
Even a name would be a good start.
The following hundred years had taught Hob a great deal. As usual, he'd had plenty of varied experiences, however the years had come with a rather concerning realisation that he would prefer to not acknowledge fully.
That perhaps he was a little bit in love with the Stranger he'd been meeting these past few centuries.
It was possible he'd felt this way for a lot longer than he'd been aware of.
There was also the slightest possibility that in whatever supernatural way he was capable of, his Stranger needed him in a similar regard.
Whether that was romantic or platonic, Hob was unsure. The sex they'd been having was far from romantic, but it also wasn't an act typical of most friendships. No matter how he felt towards Hob, it was clear his Stranger was lonely and needed him for companionship.
Why else would he keep coming back? He was obviously a Lord, or someone of high status, and incredibly attractive. He could have anyone of his choosing. Yet he kept returning for Hob.
Hob had spent months greatly anticipating their meeting. He'd chosen his greatest outfit, and obviously stretched himself out before (just the thought of his Stranger inside him again got him half hard now). It was just his luck that when he arrived, Hob had been beaten to the punch by Lushing Lou, who was failing to seduce his Stranger.
Good, he thought. That fine, dark gentleman was all his.
After apologising for the unwanted attention, Hob led them to their seats. Somehow, his Stranger was able to tell him all about Lushing Lou, or Louise Baldwin as was her real name. He truly was a strange creature, and it was the first time in a while Hob really tried to consider what he actually was.
"How do you know all that?"
Unsurprisingly, his Stranger changed the subject to his wine. Hob continued to push, bringing up Lady Johanna who they'd encountered at their last meeting. This creature truly appeared to know everyone.
Finally, he got something out of his Stranger. He remarked how Lady Johanna had undertaken a task for him, and succeeded. It almost made him jealous, that he couldn't have come to Hob with the task instead. However, it had been the only thing he'd learned after 500 years, and he mentioned that.
Their conversation continued. Hob breathed deeply when his Stranger said that perhaps he'd changed. He smiled, admitting he had in fact learned from his mistakes but it didn't stop him from making them.
Then, he made the biggest mistake of the evening. Feeling bold, he glanced up at his dark Stranger, and said, "I think it's you that's changed."
"How so?" the man's voice was stony and cold.
That didn't seem to stop Hob from fucking it up. "I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'll seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death, by now you know that about me."
The expression on the pale figure across from him grew colder, but Hob continued. "So I think you're here for something else."
"And what might that be?" his voice was tense, defensive.
"Friendship. Closeness. Intimacy. I think you're lonely."
Hob's stomach dropped in fear when he caught the full force of his Stranger's glare. "You dare…"
"No, look, I'm not saying—" he tried, hoping he hadn't just lost his Stranger completely.
"You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship. Your puny human touch." His Stranger rose to his feet, and Hob followed.
"Yes. Yes, I do," he reiterated, trying to step forward to stop the man from leaving. Fury was pulsing from him in waves, and Hob almost felt properly scared for the first time.
"Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong," the Stranger growled, stalking past him and out the door. Hob huffed, running along after him out into the pouring rain.
"I'll tell you what, I'll be here in a hundred years' time," he called down the street his Stranger was disappearing down. "If you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends. Because you care. No other reason, right?"
Hob felt tears sting his eyes as his Stranger completely vanished from sight. "Fuck."
This was it, he'd driven his Stranger away because he was too proud to accept the truth. Hob didn't know if it was the rain on his face or his tears as he buried his face in his hands, dread filling him at the thought he would never return, and he didn't even stay long enough to get one last fuck.
Things changed at an even more substantial rate this century. There were plenty of stories for Hob to tell, if his Stranger decided to show up. He'd lived through wars, new technology, cultural shifts. At first, he wondered if since his Stranger had left he would now start to age, and his immortality would be over. Paranoia had taken over, and after a decade or so, Hob was relieved to find that this wasn't the case. He'd gone over their argument in his head time and time again, wishing there was something he could have done differently to make him stay.
Maybe this time he'd get lucky, and proven right. That he did mean something to his Stranger. His broken heart would be mended.
So he sat there, sipping a drink at an empty table on their scheduled meeting day. As time passed, he listened to the different conversations going on around him, thinking to himself about how throughout the centuries, people's conversation topics in the pub were eerily similar.
Hours passed. Music played, Hob downed multiple glasses. By the evening, it was clear his Stranger wasn't coming. He sighed in disappointment, he'd even gone through prepping himself before their meeting as he usually did, this time leaving a plug inside him, and it was all for nothing.
He made his way to the bar, asking for a whiskey, the oldest they had. The bartender bantered a little with him, asking if he was waiting for someone.
"I think I've been stood up," Hob attempted to hide how truly upset he was with a chuckle. "We had a fight, last time we were here."
Hob went on about how it was his fault, and he felt like an idiot. The bartender seemed to have a look in his eye, as if he knew 'friend' wasn't quite the right term for the relationship being described, but he couldn't acknowledge that out loud.
He listened on in horror as the bartender told him the White Horse was being demolished to make room for flats. The colour drained from him, where would he continue to wait for his Stranger to show?
So he accepted the next drink, sipping from the glass and hoping it would numb the misery in his chest.
If Hob was something, it was stubborn. And hopeful, and determined. It was partially how he'd lived this long.
Nothing was going to stop him from waiting, hoping that one day his Stranger would come back.
When he'd lost the White Horse, he'd swiftly commissioned the building of a new pub down the road. He named it the New Inn, and settled in the flat above, spending the past few years as a university lecturer.
Academia was what he'd buried himself in after his Stranger didn't show at their last meeting. Along with the occasional hook up with men who bared resemblance to who he was truly longing for. (It wasn't just men. Hob couldn't limit himself to one gender, he was too much of a hedonist he would go for just about anyone willing.)
No matter how many relationships, one night stands or flings he'd had, nothing had held a candle to how much he loved his Stranger. It was a constant longing, almost background noise at this point. Even if he just showed up to use him in the same manner he had done in the 1400s, Hob figured he'd be grateful.
It was an ordinary afternoon. Hob sat with a drink at his side, marking papers from his students. Until he caught movement from a dark figure in the corner of his eye. He internally rolled his eyes, every time he saw someone who looked like his Stranger, he would look hopefully, and every time it was someone different.
This time, when his eyes went to the figure, it was approaching him. He looked up, and there in front of him was his Stranger, smiling as wide as he'd ever seen.
"You're late," was all he could think of saying, smiling back just as widely.
"It seems I owe you an apology," his Stranger said, in that lovely velvety voice. "I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."
Hob grinned, his heart soaring. His friend sat opposite, eyes twinkling and smile still on his face. He was so fucking beautiful, and Hob would take it, he would accept if all this man wanted was his friendship and nothing more. He would push his own feelings aside if he got to spend more time with the ethereal creature opposite him.
As he began to talk, rambling about everything he hadn't been able to tell his friend before, Hob couldn't help but notice the despair that haunted his posture, and deep behind his eyes. There was something unsaid, and he wouldn't push this time. If they were truly friends, he would wait until he was trusted with the information.
It'd been at least an hour, and he was still going, his friend continuing to listen intently to his every word.
"Yeah, anyway, I do like to go on a bit," Hob laughed, tugging at his ear. "Don't want you getting bored."
His friend sat up straighter in his seat. "You have not bored me, Hob. It was not my intent to miss our last meeting."
Hob suppressed a gasp, almost choking on his drink. He put it down, and gave his friend his full attention.
"What— what happened? What do you mean? You don't have to tell me, not if you don't want to, fuck, you don't have to say anything—"
"I was imprisoned," his friend almost whispered. "By mortals. They held me captive for over a hundred years."
Hob's jaw dropped. "You— what? A hundred years? Fuck."
He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "You know I would've helped, right? If I'd known? I'd have done anything to get you out, my friend. Anything."
The once shining blue eyes had lost their sparkle, and became downcast. "No one could have helped me. I was too proud to ask. There was nothing you could have done."
Now that wasn't at all surprising. At their last meeting, he'd been too proud to admit he might've needed Hob's companionship.
It was surprising though, that they continued to converse. Hob even led his friend upstairs to his flat, where they sat beside each other on the sofa. He'd even accepted the cup of tea Hob had made for him, and was holding the steaming mug in his pale hands.
The conversation even became reciprocal. Hob was shocked as his friend finally began to speak of himself, even giving him a name.
Dream of the Endless, or just Dream.
It felt so good to call him something other than just his Stranger, or his friend, in his head.
Dream, of course, had a kingdom of his own, which he was currently trying to rebuild. As well as searching for his tools. It only made sense he was royalty, and a King at that. His kingdom happened to be the one where everyone visited when they slept, known as the Dreaming.
Hob listened on, almost made speechless at these revelations. Not only was his friend more powerful than Gods, or anything he'd imagined he might be, but he was King of Dreams. Which meant he might know of all the insane dreams Hob had had, as well as the thousands which had included him. In a romantic or sexual context.
Compared to Dream, he really was just a speck. A mere human, sitting beside this powerful being. Even if Dream was interested in friendship, or even more sex, he was far too powerful and incomprehensible to ever consider Hob in a romantic light. Were his kind even capable of romantic love?
"That's—" Hob chuckled in disbelief. "I imagined you many things, but that was certainly not one of them."
"Indeed," Dream said, taking the smallest sip of tea. "You once believed me to be a devil, even a wizard."
Hob grinned. "It seemed logical, there's always tales of people making deals with devils in exchange for eternal life. Was rather relieved when I got to keep my soul, and the deal only involved a great shag."
Dream frowned at that. He was silent for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Hob. It has occurred to me that my behaviour towards you in the past has been cruel and selfish. I… apologise. I will not inflict myself on you in that way again. I can only hope for your forgiveness, and that our friendship will remain unchanged."
Hob's jaw dropped again. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "My friend… you don't have to apologise for anything. I thought it was clear I'd been enjoying it. Okay, maybe you were a bit too violent in the beginning, and I didn't know I'd enjoy it as much as I did, but that's that. I did enjoy it. A lot. Gave me quite the awakening, actually."
A small smile tugged at Dream's lips. "Is that so?"
Hob laughed. "I slept around. I missed it, you know. None of them compared to you."
When their eyes met, Dream's had turned dark and wanting, and Hob's heartbeat quickened at that familiar expression he hadn't seen on his friend in so very long.
"Do you… still feel this way?" Dream almost purred, his tea now abandoned on the coffee table. "About me?"
Hob swallowed hard, blood rushing south. "Yeah. 'Course. Never stopped thinking about you. Surely you know the number of dreams I've had of that, uh, nature. About you."
"I have a passing awareness, yes," Dream moved closer still. "But I try not to pry on the dreams of those close to me."
"Fuck," Hob murmured, fully hard now. "C'mon, love. You know you can have me, I'm all yours."
That was all it took for Dream to pounce on him, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss. Hob moaned, kissing back just as passionately, hands resting on Dream's shoulders, moving one to hold his cheek. It was messy and desperate and unhinged, and Hob was being pressed back down onto the sofa willingly.
Dream was above him, their bodies rutting and grinding together as their tongues explored each others' mouths. When they broke apart, Hob gasped for air, arching upwards as Dream's lips kissed and sucked at his neck.
"Should we—" Hob exhaled sharply, crying out as Dream's teeth dug into his skin. "Should we go to my bedroom?"
The moment after Dream's eyes met his, Hob blinked and they'd been transported to his bed. He laughed in shock, running a hand through Dream's soft hair as his clothes were also quickly evaporated.
"Handy trick," Hob said, spreading his legs eagerly as Dream touched him everywhere, fingertips gently brushing his skin, lips pressing soft kisses into his collarbone. His breathing picked up, heart fluttering with the difference in pressure he was experiencing. By now, Dream would've had his nails drawing blood from him and cock pounding into his tight, unprepped hole.
This time, Dream was taking his time. They'd kissed. Dream was kissing him, touching him, and he was being gentle. Then he was being straddled, and Dream was holding his face in his hands, and they were kissing on the mouth again, sweetly and tenderly.
Hob barely registered the dimming of the lights, and that Dream was now fully unclothed. His fingers drifted over smooth, pale skin, and he gasped into the kiss when the naked body above him came into contact with his own, and they were touching completely from the neck down.
"Dream," Hob whimpered, his lips slick with spit. "Love, fuck, you're so beautiful."
Dream hummed in appreciation, sitting back up on Hob's lap with his hands on his pecs. "My Hob."
"Yes, yours, my darling, all yours."
Hob was babbling incoherently, stunned into silence when he felt the tip of his cock pressing against a tight ring of muscle. Surely, Dream wasn't about to…? Not that he was opposed, in the slightest, it was just so incredibly different than what he was used to.
"So selflessly you have offered yourself to me," Dream purred, wrapping a slick hand around Hob's aching cock, causing him to moan. "Your friendship. Your body."
Hob whined and his hips thrust upwards into Dream's grip as lube was spread over his length. "Anything, my love. It's all yours."
"I have not appreciated that which is mine," Dream stared darkly down at Hob's quivering body, guiding his cockhead to press back against his hole. "Is this what you wish for, my dear Hob? To fill this body so completely, that I may never forget your devotion to me?"
"Yes, please, yes!" Hob cried, gasping as he slipped inside Dream's rim. The tight heat overwhelmed him, and his head lolled back against the pillows as it surrounded his length completely, as Dream sank down to the hilt.
"Fuck, fuck," Hob mumbled, hands flying to grip Dream's thighs. "Please, please, Dream. Need to fuck you. Need to cum in you."
Dream was gasping and whimpering, his own breathing stuttered. "You may. Do to me as I have done to you so often."
That was all the permission Hob needed. He adjusted his leg, got a good hold on Dream's slender hips, and began to properly thrust up into him.
He was rewarded with deep moans from Dream's parted lips, as he eagerly met his thrusts with his own. Fingers clawed at his chest hair, nails denting his skin as Dream rode his cock so hard the bed creaked beneath them. His body felt incredible, the tight pulsing heat gliding over his hard length, punching moans out of Hob's throat repeatedly.
A hand was gripping his chin, guiding their lips together once more. It mostly consisted of sharing panted breaths, Hob's hands pushing the slender body of his lover back down onto his cock. He was getting close so fast, it wouldn't be long before he came, it would be over far too soon. Dream's whimpers became more high pitched, and moments later he was trembling above Hob, face buried in his shoulder as he came over their chests.
The sight of Dream falling apart above him, walls clenching around his cock, was all it took for Hob to shoot his load inside his lover. Tears almost sprung to his eyes as his whole body sung with release, feeling a tug of possession as his cum started to trickle out from between Dream's legs.
This was the moment where Dream always walked away.
Instead, the pale figure on top of him sighed contently, moving off of his softening cock to lie at his side. Hob turned so they were facing each other, and took Dream's hand in his own, kissing his knuckles.
"Beloved," Dream whispered, his eyes sparkling. "You never fail to bring me to the heights of pleasure I am able to experience in this form."
"Likewise," Hob smiled, twisting their fingers together. "Please. Please stay."
Dream's brow furrowed with concern. "I am aware I have been. Cold. Towards you, in the past, after our encounters."
"You walked right off before I finished multiple times," Hob chuckled. "So yeah, you could say that, love."
"I… I was selfish. I thought purely of my own release. So… perhaps. This time, I will stay," Dream said softly, leaning forward for a brief kiss. "My Hob. I will be here tonight, as you enter my realm. When sleep finds you, I must take my leave. There are many duties I must attend to."
Hob smiled sadly. "Yeah, I understand. As long as you come back. Friends meet more than once a century, you know, and lovers…"
"Is that what we are?" Dream whispered. "Friends, and lovers?"
"Sounds good to me," Hob grinned properly this time. "We can be whatever you want us to be, darling."
"Then that is my wish too," Dream said, their foreheads now touching and legs tangled together. "I will return as soon as I am able. We may meet in my realm as well as this one."
"I'll see you there tonight, then," Hob exclaimed, pulling Dream fully into his arms.
He fell into the most pleasant sleep possible, aided by the Lord of Dreams himself cradling him in his arms, hand stroking his hair.