Page 59 of Hansel and Gerhardt
Gerhardt slipped his arms around him, and Hansel let him. He let himself be led dumbly back to the bed and laid down with his head on the pillow. He let Gerhardt wrap him in his arms, and he held him tight, his only comfort in all the world. He cried piteously against his chest, until some time just before dawn, after hours of Gerhardt’s petting and holding, Hansel whispered, “Promise me you won’t eat his food today.”
Gerhardt let slip a sigh, as though Hansel was being silly. He couldn’t understand.
But Hansel tried anyway, asking all the more urgently, “Please. Please don’t eat his food today. Promise me.”
He felt Gerhardt’s body shift in the dark, his chin on his head as he wrapped around him. He felt his heavy breath in his chest. “All right. I’ll wait for you to wake up, then we’ll talk about it.”
“Thank you.”
With the promise in his heart, Hansel’s last defences crumbled through sheer exhaustion. He locked arms around Gerhardt and drifted off into a troubled sleep.
Sweet Like Sugar
The blinding white of blazing sun on powdered sugar walls overwhelmed Hansel’s senses. He pressed his head into his pillow, scrunching his eyes against the pain, feeling over the bed.
Cold.
He must have been gone for some time.
Twice now, he’d awoken without Gerhardt by his side, after so many declarations.
He grasped his way to sitting, squinting around the room.
The dresser was back in place. The door was there again, ajar. He wasn’t even locked in. The window had rebuilt itself, and the meadow beyond was as peaceful and cheery a sight as anyone ever laid eyes on.
But Hansel wasn’t to be fooled.
It was real, every last terrible memory. For here he was, in Gerhardt’s room, in Gerhardt’s bed. It had all happened. And as his mind unmuddled from sleep, restored from the short rest, he knew as clear as the candy wall behind that sugar powder, this was a fight to the death.
He dropped his feet to the floor, stood, and even if the room swayed with his weakness and hunger, he forced one foot in front of the other. His shoulder smashed into the doorframe as he stumbled through. He slipped on the first step, but held the railing hard enough to prevent a broken neck from a fall. He descended the stairs fast, bolted around the corner to the kitchen, and pulled to a sharp stop, his mouth dropping open at the sight before him.
There, on the floor, on his hands and knees, was Gerhardt.
He was clad only in tight leather shorts, his top half almost naked, on full display. His perfect, pert ass wiggled delightfully as he scrubbed the floor with an old brush. His arm muscles flexed with every push and pull, and Hansel had never seen such an expanse of those delicious thighs on display like they were that morning.
Gerhardt looked over his shoulder, and with a bright smile, sang out, “Guten tag, Hansel!” He jumped to his feet and bounded over. He looked around quickly to see they were alone, then placed a fast kiss on Hansel’s lips. He asked quietly, “Are you feeling better?”
Astounded, thrown at the sight of romantic perfection he’d never known to dream of, he whispered, “Much better. What are you wearing?”
Gerhardt took a few steps back, a coy smile peeking out from beneath that curl of dark hair. He ran a hand down a leather strap, over his naked pecs, letting it drift softly to land on his hip. “Do you like my lederhosen?”
A hungry tongue swept Hansel’s lips. “Yes.”
He shook his head, trying to return to their dangerous reality.
But those shorts would drop open at the front with the mere pull of a button. Gerhardt could keep it on while Hansel was on his knees— “Gerhardt, this is very serious!”
“More serious than my lederhosen?” He stroked the soft leather.
“I’m afraid so,” Hansel said regretfully. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the table, stacked near to the ceiling with enormous pancakes. Pancakes wide and thick and fluffy, dripping with butter. Side plates loaded with more pancakes still, and little porcelain jars of honey, every type of jam, chocolate powder, and cream.
Then Gerhardt looking up at him with his guilty face. Gerhardt’s sweet fingers threading through his.
“You ate, didn’t you?” Hansel asked softly.
“I couldn’t resist,” Gerhardt whispered. “He’d made it all. He came and woke me, and he was so excited.”
“He woke you? He-he found us there?”
