Page 86 of Shades of Henry
“You’re killing me,” he cried. “God, Henry, fuck me.”
Henry spread his fingers instead, and his entire body shook.
“Please!”
“Is that what you want?” Henry whispered. “Is that what youreallywant?”
“Your cock,” Lance begged. “God, you.”
Henry’s fingers disappeared, the emptiness enough to make him weak. Henry’s cock was next, just a bit thicker, filling him completely, thrusting hard and fast down to the balls.
Lance screamed into the couch, pounding with both hands, until Henry’s arms caught him around the waist and Henry whispered harshly in his ear.
“Stroke your cock. Hard. I want to taste your come.”
Oh wow. Wow. People didn’t say things like that on a porn set. Lance went boneless, moving one hand down to his cock as directed, and squeezed. He began to shake right as Henry began to fuck, brutally hard, but not fast.
Fast would have been merciful.
Lance was reduced to whimpering into the couch, orgasm sweat breaking out over his body as he stroked himself.
“So good,” Henry murmured. “So tight. It’s like you’re trying to trap me inside.”
Sweet talk—it seemed to be Lance’s thing. He gave a cry and came, the heat spilling across his fist driving him higher even as he pumped more. Henry kept fucking through the climax and he moaned as Henry hit his sweet spot, even as he was coming. Again! Again! Again!
Henry bit the back of his neck and groaned, rutting harder as Lance squeezed him with every muscle in his ass. He came in a scalding rush that Lance could feel, thick and good, and collapsed against Lance’s back. Lance managed a partial turn, holding his hand up defiantly, and Henry sucked on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, licking shamelessly, tasting Lance’s spend like his last meal.
The change of position forced him out of Lance’s ass, and Lance felt the trickle of wetness down the back of his thighs, shivering with the decadence of it.
And then Henry pulled back and pushed him facedown into the couch again, and licked a trail down his spine. His mouth right above Lance’s crease was a promise, and his tongue, lapping at his rim was….
Oh God.
It was everything. It made a lie that sex was ever dirty, that making love needed to be clean. Lance all but sobbed into the couch and allowed an aftershock to wash over him, wiping the memory of any other lover from his bones.
He was practically helpless in the aftermath, and Henry pulled at him gently until he found himself on the mattress, on his side.
“No washcloth,” he murmured. “No underwear. Your body, sweaty and good under the sheets.”
“Too late,” Henry said a moment later. Lance felt the washcloth along his groin, and then Henry’s bulk over his body as Henry wiped at his crease. “Spunk ripping out my body hair—not my favorite.”
“I just want you all over.”
“Wow,” Henry said, touching his face with fingers damp from cleaning. “You sound out of it.”
“Subspace,” Lance said. “Doesn’t happen a lot. So floaty.”
“Mmm….” Henry burrowed his face against Lance’s neck, and Lance welcomed him. “Think we’ll sleep well?”
Lance managed a soft bark of laughter. “Yeah. Best dream I ever had.”
And it was.
Baby Steps and Baby Models
“GOOD MORNING,young Henry. Good to see you in fine form today. I notice you dressed well.”
“Morning, Galen.” Henry wore one of three collared shirts he had. He did that when he drove for Galen, probably because he’d seen too many movies. “Where are we going today?” John had left the car parked in front of the house since he’d run an errand before taking his bicycle to work. Henry wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep to one car or stay healthy, but either way, Henry was the chauffeur today.
