Chapter 8 #3
"Someone who'd take one look at the muck and run back to their silk sheets." Jakob jabbed his fork into the straw, the familiar bitterness rising. "Someone who'd struggle not to treat all this—" he gestured around the barn, but they both knew he meant more than that, "—like it was beneath them."
"You should know me better than that by now." Harald's voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath the softness. His knuckles whitened on the pitchfork handle. "Maybe I like feeling real for once. Maybe I like being somewhere I don't have to pretend."
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Jakob's hands tightened on his pitchfork, remembering Harald's gentle touch with the cat, the way he'd folded that old sweater like it was precious instead of worn-out wool.
"You don't have to pretend here," Jakob said roughly. "Not with me."
Harald looked up then, meeting his eyes through the strands of hay-strewn hair falling across his face. The smile that curved his lips was small but real, nothing like the polished expressions he wore at school. It made him look younger, more vulnerable. More his.
They finished the mucking out in companionable silence, the air between them charged with something neither of them was ready to name. When Harald finally straightened, wincing and rubbing his lower back, his face was flushed with exertion and pride.
"Well?" he asked, gesturing at their work. "Did I pass muster?"
Jakob looked at him—really looked at him.
At the prince in borrowed clothes, covered in honest dirt and sweat, who'd worked without complaint and smiled like manual labor was a gift instead of a burden.
Who'd taken pieces of Jakob's complicated past and transformed them into something new. Something precious.
"Yeah," Jakob said softly. "Yeah, you did."
Jakob wiped sweat from his brow, taking in their mud-streaked clothes and hay-dusted skin. The words caught in his throat as he realized what he was about to suggest. What had seemed like a perfectly normal solution moments ago now felt charged with possibility.
"Well, that's the morning work done," he managed.
"But now we're far too filthy to be eating.
" He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
"I usually... that is, there's a lake just past those trees.
For washing up." The casual tone he was aiming for fell completely flat to his own ears.
Was he really inviting the Prince of Sweden to strip down and swim with him?
"Bit cold this time of year," he added weakly, "but we've worked up enough heat it shouldn't matter. "
His heart hammered as Hal nodded and followed him down the worn path through the pines.
The lake spread before them, morning sun glinting off its surface like it did every other day, but nothing about this felt normal.
Smooth rocks lined the shore, warmed by early light, and the small cove was partially hidden by tall pines bending close to the water.
He'd been here hundreds of times, swimming innocently as a kid with Rachel and other children from town.
But now, with Hal beside him, the private little cove felt like something from one of his more dangerous dreams.
Jakob's fingers trembled as he pushed down his suspenders and unbuttoned his shirt.
He tried not to look at Hal but his eyes betrayed him, catching glimpses of pale skin as the prince shed his borrowed clothes.
The memory of their kiss in the hayloft flashed through his mind, making his breath catch.
He could see the light dusting of darker golden hair across Harald's chest, and the freckles scattered across his shoulders like copper drops on cream.
This time, there was no mirror's reflection - this was Harald, right here, close enough to touch.
He forced his gaze away, looking down and focusing on his own buttons, but awareness of Harald's presence burned through him.
The soft rustle of fabric, bare feet on the sand, quiet breaths - each sound etched itself into his memory.
His hands fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, painfully aware of his body's growing response to Hal's proximity.
Don't look, don't look, don't look, he chanted silently to himself, but God, he wanted to.
Wanted to drink in every inch of pale skin, wanted to trace those scattered freckles with his fingers, his lips...
Before Jakob could catch his breath, Harald dove into the water with a graceful arc that sent droplets sparkling through the air.
For that suspended moment, Jakob allowed himself to truly look - drinking in the lean lines of Harald's body, the scattered constellations of freckles across his shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist, the curve of his ass as he arched into the dive.
Then the prince disappeared beneath the surface, and Jakob plunged in after him, the shock of cold brutal against his heated skin.
"Fuck!" Jakob gasped as he surfaced, teeth already chattering. "It's freezing!"
Harald laughed, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. "What happened to 'we've worked up enough heat it shouldn't matter'?"
"I was showing off," Jakob admitted, treading water. His gaze caught on the way rivulets traced paths down Harald's throat and chest. "Nobody swims here this late in the season."
Harald swam closer, close enough that Jakob could feel the heat radiating from his body even through the cold lake water.
"Well, at least we're clean now." He said.
"Shall we get out and warm up?" he asked, nodding toward a large, flat rock jutting into the water, its surface gleaming dark-silver in the afternoon sunlight.
They swam toward it, the exercise at least keeping them from freezing entirely.
Harald reached it first, pulling himself up with surprising strength.
Water cascaded down his body as he emerged, and Jakob's mouth went dry at the sight.
The sun caught in Harald's hair, making the wet, dark strands spark gold at their edges, and highlighted the water droplets sliding down his back.
Harald turned, extending a hand to help Jakob from the water. Their fingers met, clasped, and with one strong pull, Jakob found himself lying back on the sun-warmed stone beside Harald. The heat of it against his cold skin made him gasp.
"Better?" Harald asked, his voice oddly tight.
"Much," Jakob managed, unable to look directly at Harald now that they were both bare and so close, with no water to conceal them. He was achingly aware of the prince beside him and how much he wanted to close the scant inches of distance between their bodies.
For a moment they just lay there, side by side, staring up at the sky and letting the sun above and the heat of the rock beneath them warm their chilled skin. The quiet stretched between them, filled with unspoken possibilities.
"Jakob." Hal's voice was barely above a whisper.
Jakob turned to find Harald watching him, something vulnerable in his expression that made Jakob's chest ache.
"You've been trying not to look at me all day." He said. A flush spread across his cheeks, but his eyes stayed steady on Jakob's. "You can look." His voice went quiet for a moment before he added, almost in a whisper "I want you to."
Heat flooded Jakob's face at the permission.
He let his gaze travel then, rolling to his side and really looking in the way he'd been aching to for days.
From the damp golden hair curling against Harald's forehead, down the smooth planes of his chest with its scattering of pale freckles, to the flat plane of his stomach and lower, where water droplets still clung to golden hair.
Harald shivered under his gaze despite the warmth of the rock.
"Your turn," Harald whispered, and Jakob realized with a jolt that Harald wanted to look too - wanted to see him with the same hunger that Jakob felt.
Jakob nodded, finding it suddenly hard to breathe as Harald's eyes traced the contours of his body.
He watched Harald's gaze linger on the muscles of his shoulders and arms, carved by years of farm work, then sweep down his chest to his stomach.
When Harald's gaze dropped lower, Jakob saw him swallow hard, his throat working, and felt an answering surge of heat low in his belly.
"You're beautiful," Harald said, the words sounding dragged from somewhere deep inside him. "I've thought so since that first morning in the laundry."
Jakob let out a shaky laugh. "I'm not a perfect prince with royal blood."
"No," Harald agreed, his eyes lifting to meet Jakob's. "You're better."
Something broke open in Jakob's chest at those words. He reached out, letting his fingers brush Harald's jaw, a touch so light it was barely there. Harald leaned into it, eyes closing briefly, and that small gesture of trust undid the last of Jakob's restraint.
"Can I..." Jakob's voice was rough. "Hal, can I kiss you?"
Harald's eyes flew open, dark with want. "You called me Hal," he whispered, wonder in his voice.
"Is that okay?" Jakob asked, suddenly uncertain.
In answer, Harald closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Jakob's.
The kiss was soft at first, but quickly deepened as Harald's big, soft hands came up to cradle Jakob's face.
Jakob made a desperate sound against Harald's lips, his own hands finding Harald's waist to pull him closer.
The kiss broke only when they needed air, Harald pressing his forehead to Jakob's, both of them breathing hard. "I've thought about this," Harald whispered against his lips, "every night since you left me in the hayloft."
The confession sent heat spiraling through Jakob's body. He kissed Harald again, more hungrily, and Harald responded in kind. The press of their bodies was awkward on the flat rock, neither able to get properly close. Harald made a frustrated sound against his mouth, trying to pull Jakob nearer.