Without breaking the kiss, Elisha slid his hand down between their bodies, wrapping his palm firmly around Henry’s semi-hard cock. He began to stroke him in slow, rhythmic slide-and-pulls, building the friction as he positioned himself at Henry’s tight entrance.
With no preparation, no lube, and no protection, Elisha pressed forward.
Henry let out a sharp, ragged gasp, his hips bucking instinctively as the blunt head of Elisha’s cock pushed past his tight ring of muscle. Elisha paused, burying his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, groaning drunkenly against his skin as he stretched him inch by agonizing inch.
Henry’s eyes squeezed shut, the corners filling with hot tears of overwhelming pleasure and raw, burning stretch. "Eli..." he breathed out, his voice thick and broken.
"I’ve got you," Elisha murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against Henry’s ear. "I’ve got you, baby."
Then, slow and heavy, Elisha began to move.
The alcohol in their veins made every sensation blur and amplify. It wasn’t gentle; it was messy, desperate, and raw. Elisha pulled back almost all the way before sliding back in, his thick length stretching Henry to his absolute limit with every deep, dragging thrust. The wet, slick sounds of their bodies colliding echoed loudly in the quiet room, mixing with their heavy, drunken pants.
Henry threw his head back against the cushions, his hands fumbling blindly until they gripped the back of Elisha’s head, pulling him down for a bruising, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of sweat and expensive liquor. Every time Elisha drove deep inside him, Henry’s body arched off the mattress, a string of high, broken moans spilling from his lips.
"Harder," Henry choked out, his voice laced with reckless abandon as the friction burned hot inside him. "Eli, please..."
That plea broke whatever restraint Elisha had left. He gripped Henry’s waist hard enough to bruise, his thrusts turning deeper, faster, and heavier. He pounded into him with a wild, rhythmic desperation, taking everything Henry had to give as the heat built into an unbearable crescendo.
Henry grabbed his own cock, his hand moving in frantic, desperate strokes to match the punishing rhythm Elisha drove into him.
Elisha pounded deeper, his heavy, unrestrained thrusts rattling every bone in Henry’s body.
"Ah—huh... ah," Henry moaned, his voice breaking into raw, breathless gasps against Elisha’s shoulder with every deep, merciless impact.
Henry’s inner walls clenched tightly around Elisha, milking him as the overwhelming sensory overload pushed him straight off the edge. With a loud, ragged cry, Henry came, his body shuddering violently as his seed spilled hot across their stomachs, his convulsing muscles gripping Elisha with every intense aftershock.
Pushed past his own breaking point by the sight of Henry unraveling beneath him, Elisha let out a hoarse roar. He buried himself as deep as humanly possible inside Henry’s trembling body, gave three hard, punishing thrusts, and spilled himself completely inside him, flooding him hot and heavy.
They collapsed together, chest to chest, panting heavily in the dark, tangled in a messy, unforgettable ruin of sweat, friction, and a love that neither of them had any idea how to escape.
After a while, as their breathing finally began to calm, Henry drifted off to sleep almost immediately, dead to the world even before Elisha pulled out of him. Moving with agonizing care, Elisha gently pressed a soft kiss to Henry’s damp forehead before slipping out of his body. Even through the heavy haze of alcohol, a quiet protectiveness took over; he reached for a box of tissues, carefully cleaning Henry’s skin and his own chest. Once he was finished, he collapsed onto the empty side of the bed and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, when Elisha woke up and realized that the night before hadn’t been a drunken dream, panic seized his chest.
Terrified of the reality of what they had done, and too cowardly to face the music or talk about it, he fled. He bolted from Henry’s house and rushed back to his own place, terrified that the truth would shatter their lifelong friendship. Since he knew he could never openly offer Henry a real romantic relationship, he cowardly decided that the only way to survive was to pretend it had never happened at all.
Once he got home, he frantically instructed his maid, "If Henry comes looking for me, tell him I’m in the bedroom with my girlfriend." He knew he was acting like a coward, but he was completely lost, paralyzed by the fear of losing the one person he cherished most.
Back in the present, Elisha sat alone in the back seat of the car outside Henry’s estate when his phone buzzed inside his suit jacket again.
He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. Jasmine.
At first, he stared at it, his thumb hovering over the decline button. But realizing ignoring her would only make things worse, he swiped to answer, bringing the phone slowly to his ear.
"Elisha," Jasmine’s voice hissed through the speaker, dripping with venom. "You really want to treat me like I’m absolute nothing, right?"
Elisha said nothing, his jaw tightening as he glared out the car window.
"Fine," Jasmine continued, her tone turning dangerously sharp. "If you want to play games, I’ll call your mother right now. I’ll tell her that what you feel for Henry goes way beyond friendship, that you can’t even stomach touching a woman because of him. I’ll let your family know exactly who you are."
Elisha’s blood ran cold. "What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"
"Try me," she challenged. "I’ll call her this second."
"Stop, Jasmine," Elisha snapped, panic spiking in his chest. "Don’t bring up forced lies. What exactly do you want?"
"Come home, Eli," she said, her voice softening into a smug demand. "I’m waiting for you."
Elisha closed his eyes, letting out a defeated, shaky breath. "Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes."
"I’ll be waiting," Jasmine replied before abruptly ending the call.
The line went dead. Elisha dropped the phone into his lap, running a hand over his face as a heavy wave of exhaustion hit him. He looked up toward Henry’s building one last time before turning to his driver.
"Drive home," Elisha ordered quietly.