Page 91 of Inferno

“Do you need to take my car?” I ask, suddenly remembering that Beau came and took the others home.

“Nah, Beau left me his car. Luckily he and Bonnie and the kids were all in town, so we just switched,” Cody says, opening the door and stepping out.

“See you later.”

“Bye,” he says, closing the door behind him.

I take a moment to look around the space. It’s a great apartment, a million times better than the dump he was living in before. Entering the bedroom, my heart clenches at the sight of his sheets on a real bed, not just a mattress propped up on pallets and blocks.

The light is on in the bathroom, and I step into the doorway and find Henry sprawled on the floor, his cheek propped up against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Boy, what did you do to yourself?” I ask.

After making sure he’s not about to start puking again, I lift him up and carry him to the bed, trying not to smile as he groans and whines. Placing him on the edge of the mattress, I start to undress him, but once I have his shirt and pants off, he shucksoff his boxers and flops onto his back, his legs spread open, his naked body fully on display.

As much as I’d love to spend the rest of forever looking at the perfection that is naked Henry, it feels weird to enjoy the sight, considering he’s mad at me right now. As difficult as it is to look away, I don’t want him to think I took advantage of him when he was vulnerable.

“Where are your pj’s?” I ask him.

“Hot,” he whines, wiggling around on the bed, making his hard cock bob up and down.

I stifle a laugh, then a groan when he reaches down and fists his cock at the base. His eyes are closed as he starts to softly chant, “Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come,” until his voice fades, replaced with kitten snores.

Unsure what to do, I pull the comforter over him, then head into the bathroom to clean up. Flushing the toilet, I find a bottle of spray cleaner and wipe everything down, throwing the towel and washcloth that are in a pile on the floor into the hamper.

Turning off the bathroom light, I head into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. A pang of regret and pain stabs me at the sight of its overflowing contents, the shelves full of fresh meat and produce. Grabbing a bottle of water, I go back into the bathroom and find a bottle of off-brand pain reliever and carry them both into the bedroom, placing them on the bedside cabinet beside him, ready for the morning.

Exhaling, I debate my options. I could and probably should sleep on the couch, but instead I silently strip out of my clothes and slip into the bed beside him. I plan to leave some space between us, but then he crawls over me, his body instinctively seeking my heat and comfort even through his drunken haze.

Wrapping my arm around him, I try not to look down at where he’s still gripping his cock. Even a drunken mess, he’s sexy as fuck, and I will my own erection away, knowing that nomatter how horny I am, sex is most definitely not on the table right now. Then I close my eyes and fall asleep with my kitten in my arms.

I wake up several times during the night to check on him, but each time I find him asleep and snoring softly. Having gotten used to the routine of waking early for work, my body is fully awake the moment the sun starts to creep over the horizon.

It’s a little after nine a.m. when Henry starts to stir, a pained groan falling from his lips as he pushes up off my chest an inch, blinking groggily as he struggles to open his eyes.

My fingers tighten a little in his hair, but I force them to relax, continuing my gentle ministrations as I stroke the top of his head. An hour or so ago, he’d partially woken, just enough to start grinding his hard cock against my thigh. When I’d tried to stop him, he’d grabbed my hand, placed it on his dick, and then sighed happily and fallen back to sleep the moment I curled my fingers around his length. He’d whined every time I’d tried to move my hand, which is why my fingers are still holding him firmly.

“Anders?” Henry questions, his eyes half open, his gaze focused on my hand and his hard dick.

“You put my hand there, then moaned if I tried to move it,” I tell him calmly.

“You can move it now,” he says, his voice high-pitched and a little panicked.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I question, squeezing a little before I loosen my hold and start sliding my fist slowly up and down his cock.

“Anders.” My name is half purr, half chastisement, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop until he tells me to.

“Do you want to come, Kitten? You’ve been hard most of the night. I bet you’re desperate for me to give you permission, aren’t you?”

“Why are you here?” he asks breathily, his fingers digging into the skin on my chest.

“Because you went out and got sloppy drunk. Cody called me, so I came to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” I tell him, working my fist up and down his hardness, then running my thumb over the head, spreading the weeping mess of precum along his length.

“You left,” he accuses, even as a wanton groan slips from his mouth.

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