"Fuck, that’s fucking perfect, Eli," Henry gasped, tossing his head back as the pleasure built to a breaking point. "I’m close... I can’t take—ah! Fuck me, please!"
The intense heat and the raw desperation in his plea pushed Henry straight over the edge. A ragged cry ripped from his lips as his body shuddered violently. He came hard, the overwhelming orgasm hitting him all at once as hot cum shot in thick ropes across his bare stomach, pulsing wave after wave until he was completely spent.
His tight inner walls clamped down hard, milking Elisha’s cock mercilessly with every spasming aftershock.
The feeling of Henry convulsing around him tore through Elisha’s last shred of restraint. Sweat dripped from Elisha’s chin onto Henry’s collarbone as he pounded even harder, his muscles coiled tight, his breath coming in rough, desperate gasps.
"Henry," Elisha grunted, the muscles in his arms trembling under his own weight. "Should I come inside you?"
Henry’s eyes were half-shut, his chest rising and falling in heavy gasps. His lips parted, but no words came out as he tried to catch his breath.
A sudden flash of panic crossed Elisha’s face. His jaw locked. His grip on Henry’s hips tightened for a split second before he abruptly yanked himself backward, pulling completely out.
Henry let out a sharp, wet gasp at the sudden, jarring emptiness, his back arching off the sheets.
Elisha didn’t look at him. His fist wrapped tightly around his cock. He pumped his hand frantically, his neck craning back as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. Hot, thick streaks of cum splashed across Henry’s flushed, heaving chest.
Henry lay perfectly still, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He watched quietly as Elisha’s chest heaved, waiting until the last of the tremors left Elisha’s body.
Elisha’s hand finally dropped to the mattress. He leaned down, hooking his fingers gently under Henry’s chin to tilt his face upward. Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and sweat.
When Elisha slowly pulled back, Henry searched his eyes. "Why did you pull out?" he asked.
Elisha looked away, his thumb nervously brushing a damp strand of hair from Henry’s cheek. "You... you didn’t reply. So I thought—"
Henry reached up, pressing two fingertips gently against Elisha’s lips to silence him. "It’s okay," he murmured.
With trembling legs, Henry pushed himself off the rumpled sheets. He padded silently across the cold floor toward the en-suite bathroom. A moment later, the sound of the shower turning on echoed in the room. Elisha stepped into the bathroom right behind him.
Under the warm spray of the water, neither of them spoke. Elisha took a washcloth from the rack, working up a lather. He gently ran it over Henry’s chest, washing away the sticky mess, before turning Henry around to run the warm cloth down his back. His touch was slow, careful, and reverent.
Once Henry was clean, Elisha turned the water on himself. Henry stepped out of the shower first, quickly drying off his skin. He didn’t bother putting on any clothes. Walking back into the bedroom, he slid naked under the cool duvet, lying flat and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Slowly, Henry’s gaze drifted away. He turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He had finally gotten what he wanted, even if it was only for tonight. He was certain that when he woke up the next morning, Elisha would be gone, just like he had been three months ago. But this time, Henry told himself, it wouldn’t hurt as much. He was the one who had started this, so whatever pain came tomorrow, he would deal with it then.
For now, he simply pulled the duvet tighter around his shoulders, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Elisha reached over and switched off the lamp, leaving the room in the soft glow of moonlight. He climbed into bed, the mattress shifting beneath his weight, but kept his distance from Henry.
Instead, he lay perfectly still, his eyes resting on the pale outline of Henry’s bare back in the moonlight. He stayed that way, listening to the quiet, steady sound of Henry’s breathing, until sleep finally pulled him under.
The next morning, Henry woke first. He took a deep breath and slowly turned to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the space beside him empty.
But Elisha was still there.
Henry froze as he looked at Elisha sleeping peacefully beside him. His thoughts began to race. The first time, Elisha had called what happened between them a drunken mistake. But now they had done it again. What did that mean? What exactly were they to each other?
Henry kept thinking about it, so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Elisha stirring until his eyes fluttered open and met his.
Caught staring, Henry’s breath hitched, and he quickly tried to turn his face away. But Elisha reached out, his large hand resting warmly against Henry’s bare waist and pulling him closer. Henry pushed lightly against his shoulder, trying to resist, but Elisha was stronger and held him against his chest.
"Good morning, pretty boy," Elisha murmured, his morning voice deep and rough.
Henry’s cheeks flared with sudden heat. He looked away, blushing furiously for a moment before glaring back at him with fake annoyance.
"Don’t call me that."
Elisha smiled, gently running his fingers through Henry’s long blonde hair. "But you are pretty. Look at your beautiful face and that gorgeous hair."
The teasing warmth in his eyes made Henry’s chest flutter. They stared at each other in a quiet, comfortable silence for a long moment.
Slowly, Elisha leaned closer, moving in for a kiss. Henry’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned forward to meet him.
Knock. Knock.
Before their lips could meet, the sound broke the quiet room.
"Good morning, sir," the maid’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.
Henry’s eyes snapped open. He cleared his throat and pulled back slightly from Elisha.
"What is it?"
"Sir, Miss Jasmine is downstairs. She says she’s here to see Mr. Edmund."
Elisha flinched. The warmth in his eyes disappeared instantly, replaced by cold panic. "Jasmine," he breathed, sitting up and throwing off the covers. "What is she doing here?"
Henry’s heart sank, but he kept his face expressionless. He looked at Elisha before turning toward the door.
"Tell her to wait downstairs," he said to the maid.
"Alright, sir."
Panic immediately took over Elisha. He scrambled out of bed, his previous tenderness completely forgotten, and hurriedly grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor.
"I have to... I have to leave," Elisha stammered as he pulled on his trousers. "I’ll stop by your office later."
Henry sat up against the headboard, pulling the duvet over his bare chest. He stared at Elisha with a blank expression, saying nothing.
Sensing the sudden change in the room, Elisha walked back to Henry’s side of the bed, his shirt still unbuttoned.
"Henry, I’m not trying to—"
"It’s fine," Henry cut him off, his voice flat. "You can leave."
Elisha opened his mouth to argue, but the finality in Henry’s voice stopped him. He swallowed hard, turned away, and quickly finished buttoning his shirt before slipping on his slides.
Before leaving the bedroom, Elisha paused at the door and looked back at Henry sitting silently on the bed. But Henry wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Without another word, Elisha pulled the door open and stepped out.
Once the door clicked shut, Henry let out a slow, shaky breath. He pushed himself off the mattress and walked into his walk-in closet, pulling on a comfortable oversized sweater and a pair of loose sweatpants, wrapping himself in the soft fabric as if to shield himself from the cold reality of the morning.
Meanwhile, Elisha hurried down the grand staircase, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bottom step, he froze in his tracks.
Jasmine was already sitting on one of the plush sofas in the living room.
The moment she spotted Elisha, she stood up and walked briskly toward him, her eyes scanning his rumpled clothes.
"Jasmine, why are you here?" Elisha asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
Jasmine stopped right in front of him, her expression hardening slightly. "I was so worried about you," she said. "Your maid told me you rushed out to meet a client last night. So... how come you’re here?"
Elisha stammered, his mind racing to put an excuse together. "I... yes, I went to meet the client. But after I left, Henry wasn’t feeling well, so I had to rush over here to check on him."
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before smoothing into a smile. "I see. That’s fine."
"We should leave," Elisha said quickly, gesturing toward the front door.
"No, baby. Why the rush?" Jasmine said, pointing to a pristine paper bag on the sofa. "I brought you a change of clothes. Let’s stay a little longer so I can greet Henry."
"There’s no need for that," Elisha insisted, panic rising in his chest. "We really should go."
"No," Jasmine said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Henry is your best friend, and I’m your girlfriend. I can’t just leave without seeing him, especially when I heard he isn’t feeling well."
Elisha swallowed hard. He didn’t want to push too hard and make her suspicious, so he reluctantly backed down, standing rigidly with his back to the staircase.
He didn’t see Henry slowly making his way down the steps. But Jasmine did.
The moment Jasmine’s eyes caught the movement on the stairs, her entire demeanor shifted. She stepped into Elisha’s space, wrapping her arms possessively around his waist. "I missed you all night," she purred loudly, making sure her voice carried. "Did you miss me?"
"Jasmine, we really don’t have to wait—" Elisha started, trying to pull away subtly.
"Kiss me," she demanded softly.