Lacing up the Friar

Disclaimer: Yeah, like I own anything. Pfft.

-------------------


“All right then, Carl. You know the drill. Take off your clothes.”

“Van Helsing, I can’t protest enough to this! Couldn’t we-”

“No. This is how it’s going to be done, just like the last time. And the time before that.”

“Yes, but couldn’t I just-”

“Carl. Clothes. Now.”

The friar sighed loudly, being sure to let his companion know exactly just how frustrated he was with the situation. He slipped out of his outer robe and hood, folding them to one side before pulling his larger robe over his head, the cotton fluffing his already disheveled hair as he managed to remove the garment entirely, adding it to the pile. Unbuttoning the simple white jerkin underneath, he glanced almost shyly over at the hunter who stood across the small room from him with the candle, watching him intently.

“Van Helsing, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just enjoyed having me dress in women’s clothing. This is the… fourth time now, if I’m not mistaken.”

A smirk stretched across Gabriel’s face, accented by the dramatic shadows cast by the candle’s flame.

“But Carl, I couldn’t think of a lovelier lady for the job.”

Carl made a weak attempt to huff at Van Helsing as he slipped out of the jerkin, leaving him only in a pair of thin trousers.

“Don’t just stand there, Van Helsing, let’s get this over with. Go on, I’m sure you’ve got the corset in that pile of frilly finery over there.”

Still smirking, Van Helsing pulled out a sea green corset, stiff with whale boning and decorated with white lace and ribbons. Cark almost cringed at the sight, turning ly tly to face the table so he could grasp it while Van Helsing laced him up. He heard the hollow thunk of Van Helsing’s heavy boots on the floor, approaching him from behind. His arm appeared in his line of vision, gloved hand holding the candle, which he placed on the windowsill. Soon the familiar feel of satin and stiff boning brushed his bared chest, making him flinch a bit. A deep chuckle echoed beside his left ear, warm breath making his hair tickle the tops of his ears. Carl shuddered.

“Do get on with it, Van Helsing.”

“All right, all right Carl. No need to get so excited.”

“I’m not getting excited, Van Helsing! I just want to get this over with!”

“Of course, Carl. Deep breath now.”

The fabric tightened around Carl’s torso as Van Helsing began to lace up the back. With each hold threaded he gave a rough jerk of the laces, causing the friar to feel slowly more and more constricted. The worst of the tightening occurred about his waist, forcing his slender form to pinch inwards into a more womanly shape. Thankfully the rest was left much looser, hugging his rib cage and stopping a few inches below his collarbone. He found that couldn’t inhale as deeply as he normally would, and adjusting to this new manner of breathing made him slightly lightheaded. As the dizzy rush swept over him, Carl leaned forward with his hands upon the table in front of him to hold himself upwards.

As the room settled slowly back into one spot, he felt the rough fingers and hands move up his spine, tugging the lacing into place up to just below his shoulder blades. There the hands rested, fingertips pressed against the exposed skin on Carl’s upper back. The feeling of those rough, calloused hands on his own soft, almost untouched skin made the friar shudder. It was more a reflexive action, really, as the rush of sensation crept up from his feet over every inch of him until it rounded the top of his head, making his hair stand on end. He wasn’t even aware that he’d arched as a result of the feeling until he heard a muffled sound from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Carl saw Van Helsing staring at him with dark eyes, his hands still splayed over his back. Carl wet his lips, suddenly feeling quite naked despite the fact that he was in the process of getting dressed.

“I… uh, thank you, Van Helsing. You have the… the rest of this confounding outfit with you?”

Van Helsing stood slowly, his fingertips brushing the pale skin of the friar’s back one last time before taking a step back. He gestured to the pile of white and sea green clothes set on the bed behind them. Gabriel’s mouth felt dry, and he knew that should he try and say something he would give himself away. Confusion invaded the hunter’s mind. Confusion over where this tension had come from. He’d been traveling with Carl for nearly three years now. Even in all this time, he rarely saw his companion out of those heavy friar robes of his. In all this time, he’d only seen the true form of the younger man’s body perhaps seven times in total. Twice he’d stepped in on him while he’d been washing, and once the poor man’s clothes had been torn to bare shreds in an attack. And four times he’d had the pleasure of constraining that slender torso of his in a corset. Admittedly, the last few times he made excuses to get the other man in these clothes, not wanting to admit the thrill it gave him seeing his friend that way.

But that was it, really. They were friends. Quite the best of friends, true, but nothing more. He doubted that a holy man like Carl, even with his shy but hedonistic tendencies, ever thought about another man in this manner. So Van Helsing remained silent as Carl crossed the room on slightly wobbly feet to collect the skirts and petticoats he’d assembled for the disguise.

For his part, Carl’s mind was struggling with the reason behind the sudden rush he’d felt. The sensation was familiar, one often accompanied by a long confession at the nearest church the next morning, but it seemed almost out of place here. This was Van Helsing, not some little tart of a barmaid. Upon reaching the bed, Carl bent tentatively over, painfully aware of Van Helsing’s eyes on him as he did so, and scooped the pile of fabric up into his arms. He turned only halfway around, his back mostly to Van Helsing.

“If you just step outside for a moment, I’ll change into the rest of this blasted ensemble.”

Van Helsing held his even gaze with the friar.

“No.”

A long silence hung in the air between them, during which Van Helsing raised a single calculating eyebrow. Clearing his throat, Carl spoke up after several incredulous moments, his voice cracking faintly.

“N-no?”

Van Helsing shook his head to further emphasize his answer.

“No.”

“B-but Van Helsing, I won’t need any more help with this… I’ll be fine, I assure you.”

“You might need me.”

Carl swallowed forcibly, his hands gripping the clothing in his hands as if holding on for dear life. Did Van Helsing mean for that to sound the way he did? Several horrible, wonderful thoughts flooded into Carl’s head, all of which he tried to frantically beat away while remaining outwardly calm. He was failing. The friar stared at his friend with a look painfully similar to a deer in a hunter’s sight.

“Well… I suppose if you insist…”

Trembling, Carl placed the clothes back on the bed, his head still turned so that he could watch Van Helsing where he stood in the corner, now leaning back against the wall as if preparing to watch a show. The faintest of smiles tugged at the other’s lips, his expression playfully wicked. Carl’s hands moved down to the drawstring of his britches, dawdling as he undid the knot.

At the sound of thin cotton brushing against skin, the smile on Van Helsing’s face widened significantly. He found himself leering at his friend despite himself as Carl pulled his britches down his legs, revealing himself further to him. Did the younger man realize his failure of judgment in facing away from him while bending to collect his stripped clothing? Was he teasing him, or simply naive? It didn’t matter much to Van Helsing; either way, the result caused him to shift in discomfort. How odd it was that this friar so tempted him to sin.

Carl stood up after picking his britches up off the floor, holding them modestly in front of himself as he turned. The expression on Van Helsing’s face nearly made him drop his protective covering. Was that lecherous look meant for him? Clearly it was, as there was no one else in the room. A fresh wave of sinful imaginings filled his brain, these much harder to remove than the ones before them. He froze in place, unsure of what to do.

“Carl, perhaps you should put your britches down on the bed. It would be terribly hard to finish dressing otherwise.”

His mouth opened, but Carl couldn’t find the words to respond. He nodded, turning slowly away and drawing up his clothes so he could fold them. Leaning forward, he placed them to the side of the other, frillier pile of clothes.

In three quick strides, Van Helsing was upon him before either man knew what was happening. Standing behind his friend, Van Helsing placed his gloved hands on either side of Carl’s waist, holding him still against the front of his now painfully tight pants. Both men gasped at the sensation. Realization sunk in as the two remained still in that position. Both had been entertaining the same thoughts, and both wanted this. Carl’s mind fumbled with this concept as Van Helsing reached his decision.

Carl wanted this. He wanted this. What more did they need to know?

The soft worn leather holding back something much harder pushed against Carl’s backside, pushing him to lean forward farther. The bed in front of him came to just above his waist, the mattress overstuffed with goose feathers. The friar found himself bent forward so his cheek rested against the soft beding now, a hand to either side of his head clutched into a tight fist.

“V-Van Helsing? What… What are you-”

“Come now, Carl.” Gabriel’s voice sounded different, deeper than normal and much rougher than he was accustomed to hearing. “Surely you know exactly what I’m doing. Aren’t you supposedly the smart one?”

A whimper was Van Helsing’s response. His grip on the friar’s waist tightened as he pressed harder against him, moving his hips from side to side as he enjoyed the sensation. Every part of Carl seemed soft and supple, the opposite of his own body, which had been systematically hardened over the years from his line of work. The difference aroused him, to say the least.

“Van Helsing… I…”

“Shhh… Carl, this isn’t the time for your inane prattling.”

Carl shut his mouth, lips pursing slightly against one another as through the silence he heard the sound of fastenings being released and leather shifting. The cool weight pressing against him was replaced with something much warmer. He couldn’t see what was happening, but soon a hat dropped on the bed in front of him, followed by a pair of black gloves and finally a black duster, vest and shirt. Carl gulped.

Noticing the friar’s apprehension, Van Helsing leaned forward, his bare chest resting against Carl’s back. The heat radiating from the other man was impressive. One hand slipped from Carl’s waist around to grasp something else entirely, something that made Carl groan and tighten his grip on the bed sheets. Smirking to himself, he began moving his hand back and forth along the length, caressing each part. His free hand also left Carl’s waist, tracing the contours of his body now accentuated by the corset. Tilting his head up, he spoke to him in a low voice, husky from his arousal.

“Don’t fight me, Carl… I know you’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted it for a while now myself. Seeing you like this… I couldn’t help myself. I had to do this. I needed to touch you…”

Van Helsing was interrupted by a sharp moan from the body beneath him. With each indrawn breath, Carl’s slender frame trembled more and more. A single drop of sweat traced downward from his neck, running along his spine. Van Helsing dipped forward to intercept it with his tongue, his breath warm on Carl’s skin.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty corset of yours.”

Even under the stiff boning of the corset, Van Helsing could feel Carl’s body slowly tensing up, the muscles coiling up on themselves in preparation for his release. He felt something wet in his hand, just the first hint of what was to come. With a wicked grin and a soft chuckle, Van Helsing pulled away, causing the friar to practically sob in protest.

“Please… please, don’t stop now… Van Helsing, I couldn’t bear it…”

“It’s all right, Carl.”

Coating first himself and then Carl’s entrance with the moisture on his hands, Van Helsing worked a single finger in, slowly preparing Carl. The younger moan groaned and arched into the sensation, still rather tense from his near climax. He forced himself to try and relax, however, trying to take as deep breaths as the corset would allow him to. His own erection pressed painfully against the mattress.

“Van Helsing…”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Carl…”

“I don’t damn well care! Just get on with it already!”

Gabriel smiled at the friar’s poor attempt at cussing, but in agreement moved himself into position. His hands once more found Carl’s waist, gently holding him in place as he slowly pushed forward. He hissed at the resistance he met but eventually managed to get the head inside. Carl had bit his own lip to stifle his cries of pain, feeling tears spring to the corners of his eyes from the stinging pain. His breathing grew more ragged as he fought against his body’s natural instincts and tried to stay as relaxed as possible.

Van Helsing stayed still for several moments, letting his friend adjust to this new feeling of intrusion before inching forward once more. He continued until he was nearly all the way inside him, the intensity of the feeling almost overwhelming. Carl moaned beneath him, fairly tearing at the bed sheets. He could have sworn he heard an even longer string of curse words murmured under the friar’s breath. He considered reminding him that he shouldn’t swear so much, but in light of their current activity the reminder would seem rather pointless.

Slowly at first, Van Helsing began a cautious rhythm moving in and out of Carl. After a few thrusts he found his inward progress easier as Carl’s body began to accept him. The more pained groans from his friend indeed began to sound less pained and more pleasured as he drove forward faster now. Sweat clung to his brow as the two fell into an entire conversation of inarticulate sounds of gratification, their bodies moving with one another, working as well together as they’d grown to work in the field. The room, once chilled from the damp weather outside, seemed hot and rather humid now. Carl felt his head spin as the corset prevented his breathing from keeping up with his actions.

It wasn’t long before the growing pleasure between the two became too much to stand, and with a blinding flash before their closed eyes they climaxed, Van Helsing thrusting inwards one last time before slumping forward to rest, exhausted atop Carl’s sweat-slicked body. The two gasped, trying to catch their breaths in the aftermath of it all. Van Helsing took a moment to unlace Carl’s corset with clumsy fingers so that his friend could breathe better. Carl sighed in relief as air filled his lungs completely once again.

“S… see, Van Helsing? Corsets… dreadful things… I hate them…”

“I don’t know, Carl… I think they suit you just fine…”