Page 49 of Shades of Henry
“Sort of,” Henry said, standing up. It wasn’t the coffee propelling him. He just needed… needed….
He cupped the back of Lance’s head and pulled him into a kiss, needy, thirsty, because he’d wanted to do it all day.
The images in his head receded, coalesced, until there was only this moment in time, Lance’s mouth under his, minty with gum, but Henry didn’t care.
“Wow,” Lance breathed, beaming up at him. “That was….”
Henry kissed him again, and again, until Lance moaned and dropped his backpack and pushed gently at Henry’s stomach.
“I need to shower,” he confessed, grimacing. “I smell like the hospital and BO.”
“Sure,” Henry said reluctantly. He wanted to hold him. That was all. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.” Lance batted his eyelashes at Henry, and even though Henry knew it was a lie, he laughed anyway.
“I’ll make you something,” he said. “You go shower, and then I’ll tell you about my day.”
Lance’s smile went shy. “And then…?” he asked hopefully.
What had Henry thought? That he’d want this man any less when he found out Lance was imperfect? That he’d turn down a chance to be in his bed, to hold him, in favor of lording some sort of “Thou shalt not….” over him?
“And then,” Henry told him, heart in his throat. “And then.” He smiled and rubbed noses playfully, reveling in the affection, in the kisses, in the way Lance expected banter and fun and not just a blowjob and some ass.
“Awesome!” Lance kissed him quickly on the mouth and bent to grab his backpack. “I’ll go shower and be out in a few.”
Henry watched him go with what even he knew was worry in his eyes. By the time Lance came back, Henry had managed to put together a meal of riced veggies and cubed chicken, with a little bit of teriyaki sauce. Not original, but not heavy either. He plated it up right when Lance came out from the bathroom, looking a little uncertain.
“Here you go,” Henry said, avoiding eye contact. “I hope it’s not too heavy.”
Lance nodded and sat down. “I, uh, saw the little filters on the drain.”
“To keep the stuff that clogs it from going down,” Henry said. “The sink was backing up and the pipes were corroded—the U-joint behind the toilet too. I went out and got stuff after I took everything apart. I’d just finished up when you got home.”
“Oh.” Lance pushed the food on his plate around a little, and Henry scooted close to him and grabbed the fork.
He took a bite and closed one eye. “It doesn’t suck,” he pronounced. “You don’t have to look at it like it’s poison.”
“I’m not as hungry as I thought,” Lance mumbled, and Henry sighed.
Obviously, Lance was expecting the other shoe to drop.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Henry told him, not moving back. “I was going to let it go.”
Lance put the fork down as if he was tired of the pretense.
“What would you say?”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “How about the fact that the only one whodoesn’thave an eating disorder is Curtis. Did you knowthat?”
It felt a little bit like vindication when Lance’s mouth fell open.
“You didnot,” Henry supplied. “Well, they all know thatyoudo. And now you know.”
Lance pushed his food away and buried his head in his arms. “You never want to touch me again, do you?”
Henry draped his arm over Lance’s back and told the truth. “I want to wrap you up and protect you from anything that hurts you and never let you hurt yourself again.”
Lance shook his head. “This is my own—”
