One Indulgence (6 page)

“Just to ease the way,” Richard assured him. “Trust me.”

Henry closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. It was the kind of bemused smile one put on when some memory came to mind. He nodded and lay back again, but not before putting his arm around Richard’s shoulder and bringing him down with him.

Richard groaned. This was going to be so good. Somehow, he just knew it. He uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount onto his fingers. He worked the slick oil with his hand, then corked the bottle and set it aside.

“Open your legs a bit,” Richard whispered. He could feel Henry tense a little even as he complied. Richard set to relaxing him again with slow, nibbling kisses along Henry’s neck and around his ear, all the while moving his hand down past Henry’s thigh and into the hot crevice beyond. Henry spread his legs farther, allowing Richard’s oil-slicked fingers to trace around his tight entrance.

Henry gasped and lifted his hips as Richard slid one finger inside of him.

“A little bit at a time,” Richard crooned. “I want you to be ready for me.”

Richard moved his finger in circles as he went deeper, pushing against the tight ring of muscle with each turn. Henry breathed deeply, his eyes closed and his lips parted as if in concentration.

“That’s it,” Richard whispered. “Try to relax.”

“Can one
try
to relax?” Henry said with a nervous laugh.

“Touché.” Richard drew Henry’s earlobe between his teeth and nibbled it playfully. He added another oil-slicked finger and pressed deep, deep inside. He was not certain he had found that special place until Henry moaned and grabbed his arm. He seemed to spread his legs even farther instinctively.

Richard grinned like a fool. The tight warmth in his chest twisted a little further. He loved this. He had never been anyone’s teacher before. He had always assumed, after that first disaster, that taking anyone uninitiated would be an awkward experience at best. But this was like a drug. He knew that every moan he drew from Henry was special, every kiss he placed on Henry’s hot skin was a first. In so many ways it made no sense and was too sentimental even for him, but he did not care. This was a unique moment, one night, and he would do with it what he pleased.

Richard drew his fingers free, tracing the more relaxed opening with a teasing pressure, then added a third finger.

“Richard…” Henry gasped under his breath.

The sound did something glorious to Richard’s blood. It was the first time Henry had uttered his name since learning it, and it made something deep inside of him break.

He rose up to his knees and positioned himself between Henry’s legs. He could wait no longer. He felt as if he was about to burst. He pressed his knees under Henry’s thighs, forcing them wide and forward. He only just brought himself under control and resisted the urge to plunge inside.

“Don’t worry,” Richard said, rubbing the back of Henry’s lean thigh. “I’m going to go slow.”

Henry nodded silently, like a patient steeling himself for a cut. It was not a pleasant analogy to come to Richard’s mind, so he tossed the thought aside. He felt almost mad with lust. He wanted to be inside Henry. He wanted to hold him close and trace Henry’s lips with his tongue as he rode him.

Damnation! The thought alone would finish him if he was not careful!

He reached for the bottle of oil still lying on the bed and poured a generous amount into his palm. He fixed his gaze on Henry’s blue eyes as he began to stroke himself, covering his shaft with the slick oil. Henry’s gaze followed the movement of his hands, a hint of anxiety glistening in their blue depths. Richard was generously endowed, but his blood was too hot for him to spare more words of assurance. He shifted forward and pressed himself against Henry’s entrance. He pushed, slow but firm.

“Ah!” Henry gasped and clenched, sending a sharp pang of disorientation up Richard’s spine.

“No, no,” Richard soothed. “Relax for me. Trust me.”

“I can’t! It won’t work, I’m sorry.” Henry closed his eyes and clawed at the sheets.

“It will, it will. I promise, Henry, the discomfort is just in the beginning. Let yourself relax around me, and it will be so good. I will make it feel wonderful, trust me.” Richard could hear the plea in his voice but was too eager to feel ashamed. In the back of his mind he knew he didn’t just want this for himself. He desperately wanted to do it for Henry. He wanted to make it wonderful. He wanted to make reality of the promise he had just made.

Richard rubbed his hand in slow circles over Henry’s stomach. “Push out,” he whispered.

“W-what?”

“Trust me,” he whispered. “Your muscles, inside. Push out.”

Henry still looked confused and terribly embarrassed, but he did it. Richard felt the blessed release of the vise around him. He pushed deep, all the way, until his hips were flush against Henry’s thighs. There was no description. He had done it so many times with so many men that he had lost count years ago, and yet each time the sensation was beyond words. This time, it was even more so.

He started to move.

“God!” Henry grabbed at Richard’s forearms as if to pull him close. Richard took the invitation and came down over him. He scooped his arms under Henry’s shoulders and rested his weight on his elbows. Henry fit him to perfection as he moved in a slow, deep rhythm.

And then, as if some wall had fallen away, they were no longer strangers. They did not move as strangers; they did not whisper and kiss as strangers. It was as if they had known each other intimately for years. A small part of Richard’s mind was coherent enough to marvel at the absence of restraint and fear. He kissed Henry’s neck and shoulders, nipping with his teeth, whispering to him in ways he had only dared in the first few encounters with his other partners, before he had been either laughed down or shown open hostility.

“That’s it, Henry. Yes. Wrap your legs around me. You feel
so good
.”

Henry kissed him back, joining him with an equal intensity and an equal disregard to embarrassment. And he did not hold back his joy. He groaned and cried out in a deep voice that vibrated through Richard’s chest. Minutes passed. How many, neither one of them could have guessed, but their bodies became hot and moist from the delicious exertion.

Richard could not hold back much longer. He tried to hold back his release, but it was futile. Henry met each of his thrusts with passion, wrapping his legs high around Richard’s waist and moving with him. Then he felt Henry stiffen and clench his legs against Richard’s hips.

“Yes.” Richard rose onto his hands to look down at him. “Now, Henry. Now."

Henry threw his head back into the pillow and cried out as his release gripped him. Richard felt the wet heat of Henry’s seed spread between their bodies and lost all control. He followed a moment later with quick, hard thrusts. His world shattered as he released his seed deep inside Henry’s body. He gloried in it, ached for it, and more than just the pleasure. His barely coherent mind shouted,
Mine, mine, mine!

Richard collapsed against Henry’s chest, his face buried in the curve of Henry’s neck. For several minutes there was nothing but the rasp of heavy breathing and the thump of two hearts pounding in their ears. When Henry finally moved, Richard felt an absurd level of disappointment. He was preparing to lift himself away when he realized Henry wasn’t encouraging him to get up, but only moving his arm. Fingers raked gently through Richard’s hair, then continued to move there in a slow, almost sleepy caress. So soothing, so simple.

Mine.

Richard sighed heavily under the touch and told himself that he would move in just a moment. He promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Three

Shared Pasts

The first thing Henry was aware of as he woke was a sense of unexplainable contentment. He was relaxed and warm, made more so by the chill in the air he breathed, which let him know that the room beyond his bed was cool. He was not disturbed even when his ears noted muted laughter and the sound of footsteps somewhere in the distance. His contentment morphed into a clearer sense of reality when he opened his mouth to yawn and realized that he could not draw a deep breath.

He was being squashed.

Oh
. Richard’s full weight pressed him into the goose-down mattress. For a few moments Henry felt next to panic. How should he wake him? How would Richard react when he did wake? Henry had a sudden image of Richard turning cold and dismissive now that the haze of lust was gone. He would dress quickly, perhaps thank Henry for an
entertaining
evening, and then depart without another word or glance. Henry wasn’t sure if he had expected anything different from the beginning, but now, after everything else had been so unexpectedly wonderful, he didn’t want to bear any disappointment. Everything would be ruined. His perfect memory—oh, how it had been perfect!—would be irreparably tainted.

There was no avoiding it, he supposed. A very subtle shift of his legs and hips announced to him that he was not as comfortable as he had originally thought. His legs and lower back ached from the unaccustomed position and pressure.

“Richard,” he whispered.

He was met with a deep sigh, then nothing.

Henry shifted and turned his head as gently as he could, and was able to see some of Richard’s face. His head rested on the pillow over Henry’s shoulder. His lips were parted and his every feature softened by the total relaxation of sleep. Henry felt the same jolt to his stomach he had experienced when he first set eyes on him. Richard was stunning, so warmly handsome. Over the years, Henry had made a fine art of studying men. He had noted how some men could be coldly handsome, so perfectly ideal in every feature that they actually became unattractive, unapproachable. Richard was…soft, smiling, while not being soft at all.

Henry rolled his eyes at himself.

“Richard,” he whispered again, louder.

“Mmm.” A sound like a lazy growl rumbled through Richard’s chest. Much to Henry’s delight and consternation, Richard seemed to snuggle into him farther. His other hand flopped absently over the pillow and came to rest in Henry’s hair.

“Uh…” Henry shifted again. He had to move, even if he didn’t really want to. “Richard. Richard.”

“Mmm… What…?” Richard drew a deep breath and lifted his head. He blinked a few times before reality seemed to hit him. “Ah. Sorry.”

As soon as Richard moved enough to put cool air between their bodies, humiliation came with realization. No. Oh, dear God, no! They had fallen asleep immediately after. They had not
cleaned
anything.

There was the faintest glow from the coals in the hearth, but Henry saw Richard look down at himself, though he could not read Richard’s expression.

“I’m sorry,” Henry said automatically. Damn it! The apology only made him feel more ridiculous.

“Oh, no,” Richard said, whispering. “I certainly hope you’re not sorry about
that
. Don’t move.”

Awkward and exposed, Henry remained lying on the bed while propped up on his elbows. He watched Richard cross the room in the dim light of the dying fire and the moon coming through the breaks in the curtains. Richard was even more stunning now that Henry could examine him in full. Well-muscled legs rippled and flexed as he made silent steps across the carpet. The fine definitions in his back caught the light just so when he reached the narrow washstand and poured water into the porcelain bowl. He opened the cupboard beneath and removed a few cloths.

Renewed embarrassment hit Henry as Richard wet one of the cloths and proceeded to clean his chest and belly. When he was done, he returned to the bed.

“Here. The water was frigid, though.”

Henry moved to take the cloth, but Richard was already rubbing it across his belly with deft scooping motions. Henry flinched at the cold and made an irritated sound.

“Forgive me.” Richard shrugged. “I’m sure you can tend to yourself.”

Henry took the second cloth and dried himself. He was not sure how to reply and so remained silent. That was it, he thought. The experience was over, and on such a very awkward note too. But he would not allow himself to become melancholy. The night had been amazing, so much better than his fantasies. Richard had been gentle and instructive while not making him feel foolish or weak, and he had been so surprisingly…well…tender.

Perhaps that was what Henry would remember most—the feeling of Richard running his fingers through Henry’s hair while kissing him, of Richard caressing his thigh and whispering assurances as he showed him how pleasurable the act could be.

It had all been lust, Henry concluded harshly. Richard, this man of whom he knew nothing, had no feelings for Henry beyond the general well wishes that any decent stranger had for another. Perhaps it was only a particular inclination of his to behave so intimately with the men he bedded. Perhaps he behaved that way with all his lovers. Perhaps he even behaved that way with whores.

Henry shook his head and flopped onto his side. There it was. He was becoming churlish. He needed to get up and get dressed.

The bed sank behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Richard snuggling into the sheets, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked.

“Going back to sleep,” Richard said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“But aren’t you going to leave?” Henry felt his stomach lurch as soon as the ill-conceived words left his mouth.

Richard was still for a second, then calmly peeled the covers back and left the bed. “I can, yes. It’s no trouble.” His voice was as calm and soft as his movements.

“No, no!” Henry said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I…I mean, aren’t we to leave? Now? Now that we’ve, eh… Aren’t we supposed to leave the room?”

Richard paused near the sofa where he had retrieved his shirt and trousers. They hung from his hands, just covering the most vital parts of his nakedness. He stared at Henry for a few moments as if deciding on something. Then he smiled and laid his clothes back over the sofa.

“You have never been inside a brothel, have you? No, don’t answer. You already told me you were not experienced, but I assumed you were referring only to men. You weren’t, were you?”