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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Thank you's once again
go to my wonderful reviewers DaemonDaughter, Vampirezdarkgurl, Wicked
and EriksBlue.

Chapter 6 – Forbidden yearnings

The first thing Ichabod
noticed as the black haze of unconsciousness
receded was the burning, throbbing pain in
his left upper arm. The next was the familiar and comforting scent of
leather, hay and horses, a smell that made
him feel secure for some reason.

Slowly blinking his
eyes open he noticed that he was still caught in his strange dream,
the bed he found himself on not his own. He wanted to get up into a
sitting position, but he hadn't even really
tried to move when a firm hand was already placed on his chest,
pushing him back into the soft pillow.

“Es tut mir so leid, Georg.”
(1)

Turning toward the
quiet voice Ichabod once again found himself face to face with the
Hessian, a look of worry spread over the mercenary's face. It
surprised him that someone who killed in cold blood could be so
tender, carefully reaching out for his arm and dabbing at the few
drops of blood that had spilled from the small wound.

The more his dreams
showed him about the Hessian soldier, the less Ichabod seemed to be
able to understand him and the more intrigued and fascinated he
became. Even if it was merely a dream or a memory the feelings
of gratefulness seemed real enough to him.
If only he knew how to speak in the foreign language.

As soon as the thought
had formed in his mind the words already spilled from his lips,
reassuring the other man that everything was alright. “Es ist
ja nur ein Kratzer.” (2)

“Aber ich hätte dich
ernsthaft verletzen können.” (3)

The next sentence
brought another surprise for Ichabod since the Hessian's features now
showed a strange mix of pain and regret, other emotions he would have
never attributed a cold-blooded killer to have. But then again this
wasn't really the headless horseman, was he?

This was the human the
Hessian had been before becoming a well-known terror around Sleepy
Hollow, a normal man instead of a head-hunting ghost. Still lost in
sorting his new discoveries and the strange feelings they were
accompanied by, Ichabod almost missed that his body had reached out
for the Hessian's face, his lips whispering a name into the quiet
room. Friedrich.

The fire that now
blazed in the Hessian's blue eyes was indescribable, sending shivers
down Ichabod's spine as they stared at each other. And even if he had
wanted to he couldn't have ripped his eyes away as the body he was in
slowly leaned closer, his lips meeting those of the other man.

No, he couldn't, he
shouldn't, but once again he had no power to prevent his body from
acting, from parting his lips to allow the other's questing tongue
entry into his mouth. A strange feeling to have his tongue caressed
and stroked by another agile, wet muscle, but it felt so sinfully
good. Each touch sent bolts of arousal through his body, centering on
his groin, where to his utter embarrassment
his cock hardened in his pants.

It wasn't the first
time that he experienced these things in his odd memory-dreams and
yet he was embarrassed as always. Only this
time the body he inhabited seemed to be just as flustered
as his mind, a fierce blush spreading over his cheeks as he drew back
from the kiss, frantically babbling in the foreign language. “Wir
dürfen nicht. Der Priester sagte...” (4)

“Shh.” The Hessian
placed a finger over his lips, the other hand tenderly stroking his
cheek. Ichabod could feel himself melting into the touch, his body
burning with a mixture of shame and forbidden passion, yearning for
the other man to touch him, to once again lure him into the pleasure
that the church condemned.

And as if he had read
his mind Friedrich, Ichabod hadn't even noticed that he had begun to
call the Hessian by his real name in his mind, once again captured
his lips with his own, his tongue sliding over the Constable's lower
lip and asking for entry, which was all too readily granted to him.
His tongue reached out tentatively and Ichabod felt it exploring the
other's mouth, the taste he found there intoxicating and wonderful.

A small sound of
protest escaped his lips as the kiss was broken, but it was quickly
followed by a sound of appreciation as the Hessian's mouth slid
lower, beginning to lick and suck on his collarbone. Ichabod couldn't
remember having been this torn before in his life, since a part of
him condemned his enjoyment of the other's lewd actions, while a far
larger part of him wanted to experience and explore this passion
completely. And of course there was also the small part of his mind
that told him that this would be possible in the real world too, if
only he went to the tree of the dead.

That voice was still a
little too much, so Ichabod forced it away, together with the voice
that forced guilt into his mind. He was powerless to prevent the
happenings anyway, so he could at least take it scientifically and
examine all of his experiences and feelings.

Just that the coherent
thought needed for examination became increasingly difficult as
Friedrich moved lower on his body, abandoning his collarbone to play
with his left nipple. The tiny nub hardened under the tender
ministrations, causing a moan to slip from the Constable's lips.

He hadn't noticed when
that had happened, but his hands had slipped into the Hessian's wild
hair, gripping tightly as the other man lightly bit down on his
nipple. The small pain was completely insignificant to the wonderful
feeling of a wet tongue soothing the slight hurt.

Seemingly satisfied
with the red, swollen state Ichabod's nipples were in the Hessian
slid lower on his body, dipping his tongue into the slighter man's
navel before he continued downwards. Sucking in a shocked breath
Ichabod wanted to protest once again as Friedrich unbuttoned his
trousers, but he couldn't seem to form coherent words at all.

And the moment the
Hessian's fingers made contact with his hardened sex all thoughts of
speaking left him anyway. This was so wonderful,
so intense, long strokes from the root to the tip, causing a strange
fire to pool in his belly.

Friedrich's fingers
continued their skilled ministrations while
Ichabod's lips were seized in another kiss, their tongues tangling
and sliding against each other. Ichabod tried to remember why this
was wrong, but the thought wouldn't come to his mind again.

He broke their kiss,
gasping in shock when Friedrich grabbed his hand and carefully placed
it on his own throbbing cock. Very tentatively Ichabod felt his hand
begin to move, even though he wasn't controlling
it. He felt completely awkward and foolish, not knowing if he was
doing it right. The deep moan slipping from the Hessian's lips
encouraged him to go a little faster, causing the hand on his own
erection to speed up too.

The fact that he had
never really done this before exited him
even further, the movements of his fingers increasing as the coil of
pleasure in his body grew tighter and tighter. Friedrich's mouth once
again found his own, just at the right moment to stifle
the moan that rushed from his lips as the pleasure spilled from his
body.

The sudden wetness on
his belly increased as Friedrich too reached his completion, moaning
his name, the sound ripping Ichabod out of his pleasant dream.

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

Katrina was already
sitting at the table and eating her breakfast when Ichabod entered
the room, his expression pensive and gloomy. The very mood he had
been in almost constantly since the Hessian had gotten his head back.

“Will you eat with me?”

“I'm not hungry.” Her
future fiancé didn't even look at her as he mumbled the words,
absentmindedly walking over to the window
and sitting down on the windowsill. Following his gaze she found that
he once again stared at the Western woods.

Strange how the place
that had terrified him so now was the source of his greatest
fascination. And in becoming his fascination it had become her
greatest source for anger. She had chosen him amongst all the men she
could have had and she demanded his full attention. No matter what
distracted him as of late, she would find out about it.

A plan was already
forming in her mind, but the potion she needed for it would take a
while to make. But if it succeeded in getting Ichabod's attention
focused back on her, it was well worth her time and effort.

“I will go to gather some
herbs. I will be back until lunch time.” Ichabod once again
didn't react, so Katrina strode out of the
room, a look of determined anger spread over her porcelain features,
turning them into something cold and dangerous.

TBC...

(1)“I'm so
sorry, Georg.”

(2)“It's only a scratch.”

(3)“But I could have seriously
injured you.”

(4)”We mustn't.
The priest said...”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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A winter's tale