Page 71

Lincoln barely registered the moment Henry unbuckled the strap around his waist, his body sinking into the mattress as the last of the bonds were removed.

His limbs felt heavy, distant, as if they belonged to someone else.

His skin burned, not with pain, but with something deeper, something that pulsed in time with his slow, steady breaths.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and he let himself be gathered up, pressing against the familiar heat of Henry’s body. His head rested against Henry’s chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat anchoring him in the present.

“Come here, cuddle-bug. Let me hold you.”

Lincoln exhaled, melting into the embrace, letting Henry’s hands stroke slow, grounding circles down his spine.

Each touch unraveled him further, loosening the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He should say something, thank Henry for taking care of him, but words felt too cumbersome, too small for what he wanted to express.

Instead, he let his fingers drift over Henry’s chest and traced the firm planes, relearning every contour. He swiped his thumb over one of Henry’s nipples, watching as the muscle twitched under his touch. A quiet chuckle rumbled through Henry’s chest.

“Back with me, babyboy?”

Lincoln turned his head slightly, pressing a lazy kiss to Henry’s pec. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.” Henry’s hand cupped his chin, tilting his face up so their eyes met. “Then let’s sort out your backside. I don’t want hairy balls or buttocks on my boy.”

Lincoln groaned, though it lacked any real protest. Henry guided him down onto all fours, his body pliant and obedient despite the lingering fuzziness in his head.

“Lower onto your forearms.”

He obeyed, pressing his weight into the mattress, his arms bracing beneath him. His spine curved, instinct guiding him into the position Henry wanted, one he knew well. His breath came slow and deep as he spread his knees a little wider, presenting himself exactly the way Henry liked.

The shift of the air behind him sent a prickle of awareness across his skin. Henry didn’t touch him right away. He simply waited, watching, the way he always did, letting the silence stretch between them until Lincoln’s anticipation bordered on unbearable.

“Present your ass.”

Lincoln exhaled shakily, widened his stance on his knees, and lowered himself just a fraction more, fully on display for his Daddy.

The sound of the wax warmer clicking open made his stomach tighten. The scent of warm honey filled the air, mingling with the faint traces of their sweat and the lingering burn from earlier.

A wooden spatula scraped against the side of the warmer, then Henry’s fingers pressed against his skin, spreading him open just enough before smoothing a slow, deliberate layer of wax over the sensitive flesh between his thighs.

Lincoln twitched, his body responding before he could stop it.

“Breathe, cuddle-bug.” Henry’s palm rested against his lower back, steadying him. “You know what’s coming.”

Lincoln swallowed and nodded.

I do. That doesn’t make it easier.

A low chuckle from Henry surprised him, the vibration of it pressing against his back as his Daddy leaned in close, his breath warm against Lincoln’s ear.

“Who likes easy?”

Lincoln started, heat creeping up his neck as he realized he’d spoken out loud.

Henry’s grip on his hip tightened, a silent command to stay still. “You always did love a challenge.”

Lincoln huffed out a short laugh. “And you always love proving a point, Daddy.”

Henry’s lips brushed against his shoulder, not quite a kiss, more of a silent promise. “Damn right I do.”

He shifted back, the loss of his warmth immediately replaced by the fresh heat of wax being smoothed over his inner thigh. Lincoln tensed, the familiar sensation tingling across his skin, an anticipatory shiver running down his spine.

Henry’s fingers traced the path of the wax, slow, deliberate. Not necessary. Just because he could.

The bastard.

Lincoln bit back a noise, his hips twitching before he caught himself.

“Careful,” Henry murmured. “I like precision, not moving targets.”

Lincoln swallowed hard. He had no doubt Henry could work around it, even if he struggled to stay still, but Henry did love making things just a little bit more difficult.

Henry smoothed a paper strip over the wax and let his hand linger, palm pressing against Lincoln’s skin in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Lincoln barely had time to brace before?—

A sharp rip.

The sting lit up his nerves, fast and biting, but Henry’s hand was already there, applying firm pressure to soothe the burn.

Another pass of wax. Another strip.

Another smug little hum from Henry.

Lincoln’s fingers dug into the sheets. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Henry said, far too pleased with himself. “Look at you, all pretty and pliant for me.”

Lincoln groaned, dropping his head onto his forearms. “You’re insufferable.”

Henry chuckled. “You love it.”

Unfortunately, he did.

By the time Henry reached the last strip, Lincoln was trembling, his breath uneven, his body loose in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with trust.

Henry’s fingers trailed over Lincoln’s skin, chasing heat over freshly bared flesh.

Each stroke sent tiny aftershocks through him, too light to brace against, too firm to ignore.

Lincoln sucked in a slow breath, waiting for the next touch—where it would land, what it would take from him.

The anticipation burned almost as much as the sting.

“Beautiful,” Henry murmured.

A bit uncertain, Lincoln waited for further instructions.

His entire lower half seemed on fire from the waxing, but his cock was painfully hard and leaking precum.

He almost jumped when Henry suckled on his ball-sack.

He pulled the balls into his mouth and rolling them on his tongue one by one.

Lincoln’s breath hitched, his body tensing for a fleeting moment before melting into the touch.

A deep, shuddering sound escaped his throat, low and raw, as his muscles rippled with the sensation.

His fingers curled against the sheets, gripping them as if anchoring himself, but it did nothing to stop the tremor that raced down his spine, leaving his skin alive with anticipation.

His exhale came slow and uneven, and his hips twitched instinctively.

The movement earned him a hard slap on his right buttock, and he gasped before pushing out.

“Remember, boy, no moving target.” Henry's strong hands gripped Lincoln's hips, holding him steady as he continued to lavish attention on his sensitive skin.

Lincoln's breath hitched as Henry released his balls, only to trail his tongue up to his sensitive little back-hole.

Henry's mouth was warm and wet, his tongue skillfully exploring every inch.

Fingers dug into the globes of his ass, as Henry pulled his buttocks apart and exposed more of him.

His body tensed with anticipation, as Henry focused his entire attention on the tight passage, rimming the ring and pressing the tip of his tongue inside.

There was nothing tentative or careful about Henry’s movements as he worked his tongue deeper and deeper, leaving saliva to coat the inside.

Lincoln didn’t know if he hoped or feared what was to come because Henry was clearly preparing his ass for a thorough fucking.

Henry's right hand slipped from his hip to his cock, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around Lincoln's length. He sucked and teased, his tongue flicking in and out the sensitive cavity, while his fingers worked his cock.

Lincoln's moans grew louder, and his body trembled with pleasure. Lincoln didn’t have to think.

Didn’t have to guess. Henry knew. Knew when to let the sting settle, when to chase it with the glide of his palm, when to soothe and when to push.

Every touch was deliberate, every movement calculated, not to test Lincoln’s limits, but to remind him—his Daddy had him.

His body responded before his mind could catch up, muscles loosening under Henry’s touch, breath slowing as the tension melted from his limbs.

There was no need to anticipate the next move, no urge to brace himself.

Henry knew his body, his reactions, his tells.

Knew exactly when his breath would hitch, when his hips would twitch, when his mind would start to drift.

And Lincoln let it happen. Let Henry take him apart, one measured touch at a time. Let himself sink into the sensation, the certainty that Henry would guide him exactly where he needed to be. The outside world faded, along with the constant hum of what ifs and second-guessing.

Here, under Henry’s hands, he didn’t have to know.

Henry already did.

He was on the verge for asking for permission to come, when Henry pulled back. Lincoln lifted his head and turned to catch a mischievous glint in his eye.

Lincoln’s breath came faster, each inhale shallow as he watched Henry through heavy-lidded eyes.

The slow rip of a foil packet sent a shiver up his spine, anticipation coiling tight in his belly.

His gaze locked onto Henry’s hands as he rolled the condom down over himself, the sight sending a fresh wave of heat through Lincoln’s already overheated body.

Henry didn’t rush. He never did. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, designed to keep Lincoln teetering on the edge of impatience.

The pop of the lube bottle followed, and Henry spread the liquid over himself with measured strokes.

He coated his impressive length with the same precision he applied to everything.

Lincoln swallowed hard, his body already shifting, his knees pressing deeper into the mattress as a needy pulse throbbed low in his belly.

Henry leaned in, his bare chest brushing against Lincoln’s back, the heat of him searing through every point of contact. His breath ghosted over Lincoln’s ear, “You’re mine, boy. Are you ready to be fucked by your Daddy?”

“I am, Sir.” Lincoln’s head dropped forward, his body reacting before his voice could catch up, and his spine arched in surrender. He nodded, the motion barely controlled, his body too strung out on need to manage anything else.

Henry’s hands skimmed over his back, parted his ass cheeks before lubricated fingers delved inside, slowly opening him up — memorizing and claiming.

Henry let go for a moment and cleaned his fingers. “Green?”

“Green, Daddy. Please.”

Henry positioned himself behind him.

Lincoln exhaled shakily, his body already opening and softening for his Daddy.

The first push sent a shockwave through Lincoln’s body, a sharp stretch that had his breath catching, his fingers twitching against the sheets.

The sting was there—brief, biting—but it barely registered past the overwhelming rightness of it.

The pressure, the slow, steady invasion, the way Henry filled him, claimed him, took him, piece by piece.

His lips parted on a shuddering exhale as the ache melted into something deeper, something hotter.

The tension that had lived beneath his skin for years unraveled, unspooling with every inch Henry pressed into him.

A full-body flush swept through him, a heat that started at his core and radiated outward, leaving his muscles loose and his mind untethered.

Lincoln let his eyes flutter shut, let himself feel—the solid weight of Henry above him, the grip on his hips, the slow, deliberate stretch that had his nerves firing in ways he’d almost forgotten. His body knew this. Remembered this. Craved this.

Henry’s hands tightened, fingers digging into his flesh, grounding him in the best way. His breath came in warm, steady bursts against Lincoln’s spine, a silent reassurance, a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Lincoln shuddered. His chest rose and fell in uneven pants, his thighs trembling as his body adjusted, opened, welcomed.

And then Henry moved.

A slow withdrawal, just enough to make Lincoln feel empty before the next measured thrust filled him all over again.

The lingering sting faded, replaced by molten heat, by the bone-deep satisfaction of having exactly what he’d been missing for so damn long.

Henry’s rhythm grew erratic, each thrust sharper, deeper, sending Lincoln spiraling higher, his body tightening around the pleasure building inside him.

His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white as he held on, every nerve ending burning with sensation.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything except Henry—the heat of him, the weight of him, the unrelenting claim of his body and soul.

The pressure coiled tight, unbearable, teetering on the edge of release. Henry’s grip on his hips was firm, possessive, grounding. The deep, guttural sound he let out as he drove in one last time sent Lincoln over the edge.

"Touch yourself," Henry ordered, his voice rough with control, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, desperate.

Lincoln shuddered. His shaking hand slid down his body, fingers wrapping around his own length, already slick, already throbbing with need. The first stroke made his breath stutter, the pleasure doubling, tripling, every nerve singing with overstimulation.

"Good boy," Henry murmured, punctuating the words with another deep thrust, pushing him even further, keeping him teetering between pleasure and madness. "Come for me."

The command hit like a physical force, sending him straight into freefall.

Lincoln's body seized, his vision turning hazy as pleasure crashed through him, stealing every ounce of control.

His release spilled between them, muscles locking before the tension shattered, leaving him trembling, wrecked, sated.

Henry followed a heartbeat later, burying himself deep, his own release spilling into Lincoln, his body jerking against him, his breath a rough, broken sound in his ear.

They collapsed in a tangled heap, limbs heavy, bodies slick with sweat, breaths coming in ragged bursts. Lincoln barely had the strength to move, but it didn’t matter. Henry was still wrapped around him, still holding him, still here.

A warm hand smoothed over Lincoln’s spine, slow and deliberate, chasing away the last lingering tremors. Then Henry leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his shoulder, lips soft but the words firm, absolute.

“Mine.”

Lincoln let out a slow breath, his body melting into the touch, into him. He turned his head, meeting Henry’s gaze, and let the contentment settle deep in his bones.