Page 46 of Shades of Henry
And Lance almost said, “Yes! Just blow me and I’ll be great!” But was that what he really wanted? He hesitated, and Henry pulled back, hurt.
“You don’t want—”
“Keep kissing,” Lance whispered. “Keep kissing me. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have anything to prove to me.” He lunged up and pulled Henry back to kiss him again, and with some rolling—loud on the mattress—Henry ended up on top, between Lance’s spread thighs, the kiss gaining momentum.
Lance’s breath grew labored, and Henry’s kisses grew more urgent, and their frotting quickened in pace.
Henry sat up, shucking his shirt, and Lance followed suit. They paused for a moment, staring at each other in the moonlight coming in from the front room window.
“Tighty-whities too,” Lance directed. “I want to feel you.”
Henryhmmd, and there was some more wrestling with clothes until he was back on top, and they were skin to skin. Lance sighed happily, luxuriating in their closeness in spite of the heat and the overworked air-conditioning of the upstairs apartment.
But suddenly Henry was shaking.
“Henry?”
Henry kissed him as a reply, mouth hot, body aggressive against Lance’s own, and for a moment Lance responded in kind.
But he remembered that hesitation, that shyness, and lifted up, smoothing Henry’s hair from his temples with both hands.
“Sh…,” he murmured. “There’s just us in this bed. We have all the time in the world, okay?”
Henry shook his head. “But we don’t,” he said brokenly. “What if…?”
“No what-ifs,” Lance told him, keeping his voice firm. “Just you and me, and skin on skin, and nobody outside of us is gonna hurt us now.”
Henry nodded. “You’re… you’re really brave with all that hope.”
“You’re really brave with all that chasing down the bad guys stuff,” Lance told him. “It terrifies me. Your new friend terrifies me, but he’s not here.” Lance lunged up again, and the kiss went on, some of Henry’s frenetic urgency easing, until they were moving against each other, their cocks bare on each other’s skin, their arousal amping up.
More, and more, and more, their mouths moving deliriously, their rhythm growing slow and short and hard.
“Lance?” Henry begged, and Lance slipped his hand between them, wrapping his fist around Henry’s cock in a basic hand job. Henry followed suit. Lance kept it slow, feeling Henry’s sturdy thick base, squeezing the solid shaft until his hand caught on the ridge, rubbing his thumb along the slit. Henry gasped and did the same to him, but the kiss—that was the thing, and it didn’t stop until Lance’s entire body ached with need, and Henry whimpered inside his mouth and bucked once, twice….
He ripped his mouth away from Lance’s so he could bury his face against Lance’s neck as he came.
His cry of climax was one of the loneliest sounds Lance had ever heard, and before Lance could comfort him, his own orgasm rolled slowly out, until he was gasping, shaking, clinging to Henry with his free hand as Henry’s hot spend cooled on the one below their waists.
Henry’s ragged breathing stuttered against his throat.
“You okay?” Lance whispered.
“I’ll go get a—”
Lance pulled his hand away and wiped it on the sheets. “We do plenty of laundry,” he murmured, pulling Henry’s hand and using the sheet to clean it too.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said, not looking at him. “That was probably… stupid. Kid’s stuff—”
“Hey.” Lance kissed him. “There’s nothing stupid about sex. It doesn’t have to be anal or oral or penetrative to mean something. Yeah, with some guys a hand job is a handshake, and with other guys a kiss is a wedding proposal. This was something in between.”
Henry laughed softly and moved so he could rest his head on Lance’s chest. “You’re really good at that, you know?”
“Good at what?” God, he felt wonderful. The pleasant buzz of sex pulsed along Lance’s nerve endings, but more than that, having Henry, bare and vulnerable, draped over his body was filling all his empty places.
“Making me feel not stupid. Making my fuckups seem human.”
Lance grunted. “You should see people in the hospital,” he said. “Maybe they banged their thumb with a hammer or put on too much weight. And they won’t ask for help. They don’t go to a doctor until their thumb is six times its normal size and practically falling off. They don’t ask for diet help until they can’t get out of bed in the morning. Shame is a horrible thing, you know?”
