Page 52 of Shades of Henry
“As I was heading for the door, he grabbed me around the throat and sliced my dress shirt off, from the back of the neck down. I’d put on a nice one—one of two I had, actually—and he caught some skin. I probably still have the scar. He let me go, and I was standing there, blood trickling down my neck, shirt in pieces and falling down my arms, and he put the blade away and threw himself back on the bed. I just… stared at him. He said—I’ll never forget this—’You ain’t going out there to find no one else, Henry. Just give that up right there.’”
“Henry—”
Henry shook him off. “Anyway, we worked really hard to keep the relationship a secret. That’s where our… our partner skills were, you know? How to get laid without anybody knowing we were getting laid.” Lance took another deep breath, and Henry couldn’t look at him. “Man, you’ve got to eat some of that. I feel like I put you off your food—”
“That’s not your fault,” Lance whispered.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m the one who had to dredge up the weird shit right when I was trying to focus on you. So, another bite? Please? So I don’t feel like—”
“I’ll eat tomorrow,” Lance said. “Right now, I’ll throw it up, and not voluntarily.Henry.Are you even listening to yourself?”
“Yeah.” Henry set the saucepan in the sink. “I am. I….” Damn. This had been such a good day too. In all of those pictures, that amazing slideshow behind his eyes, he hadn’t seen Malachi’s face once.
Not once.
Lance, the guys, Davy and his family, Galen and John—even Jackson Rivers and Ellery Cramer—all of them figured so much larger in his life now.
He’d forgotten he came from this.
“I hadn’t realized how psychotic that was,” he said weakly, leaning against the sink. “I thought, ‘Oh. That’s how guys have relationships.’ But… but it’s not Davy and Carlos. It’s not John and Galen or Rivers and Cramer. It’s not….” He swallowed. “It’s not you and me.”
Lance stood and leaned over his back. “It hasn’t been yet,” Lance murmured in his ear. “And it won’t be, ever.”
Henry nodded and let Lance hold him. “This night was supposed to go different,” he said, disconsolately. “I was supposed to tell you about taking criminal justice classes, tell you about my day, and you were supposed to tell me about what it’s like to work in a hospital when you’renothiding in the bathroom waiting for your suspects to stop banging, and you were supposed to eat and then we were going to… to… to….”
“Make love,” Lance whispered in his ear.
“Yes.” Henry took the two arms wrapped around his shoulders and clung to them. “I… eleven years of thinking I knew what fucking men was all about, and I didn’t know men evencouldmake love.”
Lance emitted a cracked laugh. “Do you think you’re the only one? I’m supposed to be aprofessionalhere. I had it so locked down. Why did I need a real boyfriend? I could miss all the chances I wanted, have all the hookups I needed, because I fucked on camera and it’s all physical anyway.”
Henry squeezed his eyes closed tight. “It’s not.”
“No. Not you. Never has been.”
Just enough weight lifted off Henry’s chest that he could breathe again. “Good. What do we do now?”
Lance nuzzled his ear. “I take you to bed, and we make love. And maybe we talk some more, and maybe we fall asleep. And when we wake up tomorrow, we do it all over again, and try to work on ourselves so we’re better humans going to sleep each night than we were when we woke up. It’s the only choice we’ve got.”
“Jackson says this should end tomorrow.” Henry turned in his arms. “He says either the cops will arrest me or we’ll find the key piece of evidence that will turn the tide. So tomorrow night, I come home—”
Lance grimaced. “And I’m working and probably catching a nap in the crib.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “Okay. So you come home the day after tomorrow, and you’re exhausted and I’m here because it’s the weekend and I’ve got nothing to do. What happens?”
Again, that searching glance. “We talk some more?”
Henry nodded. “It’s your turn to do the talking,” he said. “Because I feel naked in front of you already.”
Lance let out a sigh. “Fair enough.” His mouth crumpled. “Can we start the lovemaking, though? Please?”
Henry couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t talk. He closed his eyes and lifted his face for a kiss, expecting it to be sad and shy after their conversation that night.
But Lance’s mouth was hot and eager, and desire roared through Henry’s body, burning away his inhibitions, his reservations—and seemingly his clothes, because one minute he was fully dressed in the kitchen, then in a flurry of having Lance’s hot mouth on his and his impatient, grabby hands all over him, the two of them were naked and Lance had steered him toward the couch.
“There’s lube under the cushions,” Lance murmured in his ear. “And condoms.”
Henry turned and fell to his knees on the floor, scrambling under the cushions. “I should get tested,” he muttered. “I’m on PrEP, but I haven’t been since… since….”
