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A winter's tale	By : darkangel985 Category: S through Z > Sleepy Hollow Views: 18378 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
A hundred 'thank you's
go to Catchfire, DaemonDaughter, Vampirezdarkgurl and Morningstar for
leaving me wonderful, encouraging reviews. I'm sorry to have kept you
all waiting for so long, but at the moment university and my personal
life don't permit me much time to write. I'll still try to update as
often as possible, but it might be a while before the next chapter. I
hope you'll stick around and now on to the story. German translation
as usual at the end of chapter.

Chapter 3 – Familiar dreams

The smell of hay was everywhere around him, sweet and heavy in the
air. Opening his eyes Ichabod found himself inside a shed, lying on a
stack of dried grass. He was dressed in unfamiliar garments, a book
of poetry resting in his lap. Strange. He must have fallen asleep
while reading, but he had never bothered with poetry before.

The creaking of a wooden door alerted
him to somebody's arrival and Ichabod got up from the hay. His body
was seemingly moving without his control, going towards the dark
figure that carried a small oil lamp. The stranger was a young man
with wild hair and ice-blue eyes. He knew him, but no matter how hard
the Constable tried to concentrate he couldn't remember where he had
seen him before.

“Friedrich.” The name fell from his lips before he
even knew that it would, the situation becoming more and more
mysterious every minute. It felt as if his body was controlled by
somebody else and he was just witnessing what happened.

“Georg.” Stepping up to him the familiar stranger put
his arms around the Constable's neck, pulling him into a demanding,
passionate kiss. His mind screamed at him in denial, telling him that
what he was doing was godless and wrong.

But no matter how hard he tried to step away, his body just
pressed closer to the other man. Pleasant sensations were shooting
down his spine as his tongue was stroked, centering on his nether
regions and causing a moan to slip from his lips.

It was so wrong and yet it felt so good, the stranger's hands
moving down his back and cupping his ass. His hands started moving on
their own, pulling at the other man's leather armor and finally
unfastening it from his chest. The other one was a lot stronger than
him, pushing him down into the hay and straddling
his hips.

Another moan escaped his mouth as he felt the stranger's hardened
organ through his breeches, pressing against the hardness straining
in his own pants. If he had had any control over his body Ichabod
would have screamed in protest as the other man's hands dived under
his shirt and ghosted over his hardened nipples.

But it seemed as if the only sound his body was capable of was
moaning, while his hands buried themselves in the stranger's wild
mane. As the other man's fingers twisted and played with his nipples
Ichabod found it more and more difficult to remember why this was
wrong. It felt so right, better than anything had ever felt before.

The stranger tried to lift his shirt over his head and Ichabod
found himself eagerly lifting his body in assistance. Their mouths
met in another hungry kiss and it was so much better than any of the
chaste kisses Katrina had given him. Distracted by the wet tongue
invading his mouth he screamed as the stranger's fingers wrapped
around his erection, pleasure suddenly humming in every part of his
being.

It was still wrong to feel this way, but the Constable couldn't
find it in himself to even try to fight anymore, especially since he
still seemingly had no control over his body. The stranger whispered
in his ear, endearments in a language he couldn't understand and even
though he knew not how he found himself replying in the same
language, asking, no, begging for more.

He was embarrassed by the needy whimpers
that escaped his throat as the familiar stranger took his hand away
from his cock, just to groan in an equally embarrassing
fashion as the other man's naked hardness
rubbed against his own. Not even in dreams had he imagined the things
that were now done to his body, his mind reeling from the sensations.

All he could do was bury his hands in the stranger's hair, while
his hips involuntarily arched into the friction that the other
supplied. Those who had called this act sinful had never mentioned
the pleasure he now felt, drowning out his remaining doubts.

His body felt like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter, ready to
explode. The few times he had experimentally touched himself had
never even come close to feeling like this, always more restrained.
But now he could not only feel the other man move above him, but also
hear the moans of pleasure that mixed with his own and smell the
stranger's scent. A mixture of sweat, leather, smoke and horses,
underlain with a slight hint of forests.
An intoxicating scent.

And then his senses were completely dulled for a moment, drowned
out by his spiking pleasure as his semen rushed from his cock. He
couldn't hold back the scream tearing from
his throat as he climaxed, the other man following right behind him
with a small grunt.

Ichabod expected the other man's weight to descend on him, but
instead he felt small, feminine hands grasp his shoulders and shake
him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening his eyes Ichabod found himself back in his room in the Van
Tassel household. Katrina was hovering over him, her hands still
touching his shoulders and a frown etched onto her delicate features.

It had been a dream, a nightmare telling him of pleasures no
decent man should think about. And yet he couldn't ignore the wet
spot above his crotch, confirming that at least his body had enjoyed
the horrors he had dreamed about. Ichabod ignored the little voice in
the back of his mind that insisted that he too had enjoyed it in
favor of the rationality that told him to listen to what Katrina was
saying.

“...heard you scream and I thought you might have had a
nightmare.”

The Constable was grateful for the
darkness that hid the blush spreading over his cheeks as he
remembered the reason for his screaming. Ice-blue eyes immediately
appeared in his mind, accompanied by strong muscular arms and a wild
mane of hair.

“A nightmare, yes, but it has passed. Don't worry, Katrina,
I'm ok. Just go back to sleep.”

Liar, his mind was screaming at him, but he ignored the voice.
Katerina nodded her head, pressing a small kiss to his forehead
before she left the room. Sighing in relief Ichabod sank back into
his pillow, trying to chase the images of his dream from his mind.
And before long his eyes slipped closed again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This time Ichabod knew that he had to be dreaming since he was
once again a young boy. But instead of being in his father's house he
found himself in an unfamiliar room. On the desk in front of him was
a thick leather-bound volume, containing dramas of different Greek
writers.

Looking out of the window above his desk he noted that the sun had
already begun to lower towards the horizon. He had to finish reading.
His tutor had told him to read 'Antigone' until the next morning and
if he hadn't finished it then he would most surely be punished.

Ichabod once again had no idea how he knew all these things, but
he focused his attention on the book. He had barely managed to read
three lines, when a knock resounded from his window. Sighing in
irritation he lifted his head, shocked to see familiar ice-blue eyes
looking back at him.

But this time they belonged to a young boy, who seemed to be about
his age although he was taller and broader. Ever the inquisitive mind
Ichabod wanted to ask him why he was bothering him, but the other boy
beat him to it.

“Komm mit, Georg.”(1)

The only thing Ichabod understood was that the stranger had called
him by his second name. He wanted to correct the other boy and tell
him that he couldn't understand the language that the other spoke,
but instead he found himself saying: “Ich kann nicht,
Friedrich.”(2)

Even though he did not know the words Ichabod understood that he
had refused the other boy's request. But that only brought a
mischievous smile upon the stranger's face,
right before he grasped the Constable's hand. Obviously he had no
problem with pulling Ichabod's slighter frame up from his chair and
onto the window sill. It wasn't like he had to overcome much
reluctance since the Constable's younger body seemingly was contend
with following the other's lead.

Looking down from the window sill Ichabod saw the stable roof,
which was at least two meters beneath his
feet. Fear welled up in his body and he found himself frantically
protesting in the language he couldn't understand, but it was all to
no avail. The other boy only laughed at him before giving him a tiny
shove that caused him to fall onto the roof beneath.

Still laughing the boy landed next to him, getting up with
cat-like grace and offering a hand to help him up. Grumbling under
his breath Ichabod took it and the stranger pulled him over to a
ladder at the roof's edge. He quickly climbed down, waiting for his
much slower companion with his hands stemmed to his sides.

“Fang mich.”(3)

And with these words the boy, Friedrich if Ichabod recalled his
name correctly, darted towards the forest
close to the stables. He wanted to tell the other boy to wait for him
and come back, but the words simply wouldn't come out of his mouth.
Instead he found himself following the other child, although he knew
that they had been forbidden to go into the forest
alone. Obviously Friedrich had no regard for rules at all.

Ichabod stumbled through the thick under bush,
trying to keep track of the other boy.
Distracted by a glimpse of his friend's back he didn't watch were he
was going, a sharp pain lacing through his ankle as he stumbled over
a root.

The dream pain shocking him awake Ichabod sat up in his bed.

TBC...

(1) “Come with me, Georg.”

(2) “I can't, Friedrich.”

(3) “Catch me.”
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- 4
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A winter's tale