Page 54 of Shades of Henry
Lance let go of his hand and leaned over, and Henry did his best crunchie to meet him halfway. Their mouths met while their bodies were merged, and Henry moaned throatily. God, this was different. It was sex, but with all the beauty, the mystery that he’d always imagined it could have, and none of the dismissive shame of “just fooling around.”
There was no “fooling around” about having his body inside his lover’s. Unconsciously he quickened his pace, letting go of Lance’s cock and grabbing his hips again.
He needed, needed so bad, so hard, he’d die if he didn’t… oh God…. “Lance?” He wasn’t sure he could do this.
“Don’t stop!” Lance commanded, and Henry watched Lance stroking himself in a blur. Suddenly Lance’s hand slowed, tightened, even as Henry’s hips continued their relentless pace, and whiteness of semen exploded from the tip of his dick.
The visual threw Henry over, and he closed his eyes and lost himself, his orgasm sweeping from his toes upward. He clenched and cried out, coming into the condom, surrounded by heat, by pressure, by….
Love?
He made a sound low in his throat, not wanting to confront the scary word, not yet. Lance slumped over his chest, and Henry wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him, just holding him, while he all but purred.
“Damn, soldier.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “We do okay?” His voice was more broken than he wanted to admit, and he cursed himself when Lance pulled back and caught his eyes.
“We did great,” Lance whispered, rubbing his thumb along Henry’s cheek. It came back wet.
Henry closed his eyes and said, “I don’t usually do that. I swear, I’m not some sort of pansy-assed—”
Lance’s finger, salty with brine, touched his mouth, and he stilled. “You’ve done a lot of growing, soldier boy. Growing pains hurt. Nothing wrong with that.”
Henry nodded, eyes still closed. “That was really wonderful,” he said. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Good.” Lance moved off him, and Henry missed his warmth already. Fumbling, he reached down to take care of the condom, only to find Lance’s fingers there first. Lance pulled it off and walked, shamelessly naked, to the bathroom, then came back with a washcloth. He was, Henry saw, smiling, wiping lube out of his ass as he walked.
It was the only awkward thing Henry had ever seen him do.
Lance gave a sheepish little smile as he neared the couch, and then bent down and started to wipe Henry off. “I’d clean you off with my mouth,” he apologized, “but Ireallyhate the taste the condom leaves.”
Henry stroked his hair back. “I’ll get tested,” he said. “I….” He frowned. “I don’t know why Mal always wore rubbers, but he didn’t that last time. I mean, me and, well, his wife….” He cringed. God, he was a scumbag. “But he usually did and—”
Lance was doing that searching thing with his eyes again, and Henry wondered what he’d missed.
And then it hit him. “Oh.”
Lance twisted his lips. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
Henry took a deep breath and was… surprised… when it didn’t hurt like he thought it would. Apparently being “guys just fooling around” meant Mal hadn’t been faithful to Henry either. Well, that figured, right?
“It’s not like he ever loved me anyway,” Henry said, cupping Lance’s cheek. “It’s not like it was real.” Eleven years of his life, wasted on a man he’d assumed had at least cared.
“This is,” Lance told him, capturing his hand. “This is very real, to me at least. You will hurt me if you don’t care for me.”
Henry nodded, his throat tight, eyes still leaking annoyingly. “I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he said. “I… don’t ever want you to feel like I didn’t care.”
“Oh, baby….” Lance bit his lip, and Henry had to say it, had to finish the thought, because that way he’d be clean, purged of the last bit of hurt, of hope, of misery that the last eleven years had given him.
“He never cared for me, did he?”
Lance shook his head. “No. I’m so sorry.”
“But you do. And you’re so much more than he ever was.”
But that didn’t stop them, the sobs that had been blocked up for too long—maybe since he’d stood as Mal’s best man, watching as his lover married his sister—tore out of his throat, and he fell apart against Lance’s chest.
And trusted that Lance would catch the pieces, so he could put himself back together again.
