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BUTTER MAKE THE MOST OF IT

A nd so it seemed fate really was smiling on them, as Léon and Henry made their way upstairs together, key burning a hole in Henry’s hand, Léon’s wrist brushing against Henry’s in the empty hallway.

Their excitement was only compounded when they opened the door on their splendid room.

One large bed, one small table with two chairs, and one chaise longue set into the recess of a window.

Red carpet, thick and soft, red wallpaper, red bedspread.

It was small, and it was clean, and it was perfect .

But the second Léon reached for Henry, he got one kiss and two hands at his waist shoving him back.

“Go see to the horses. I really need to wash.”

“But…” Léon looked him over frantically.

He had to wait another…

What? Twenty minutes?

Half an hour? And Henry looked good.

He looked good, just exactly like he was.

His hair could be as mussed as he liked, and he hardly needed clothes.

In fact, something about the idea of him straight out of the dungeon attracted Léon even more.

But Henry was very firm…

Just not in the way Léon wanted him to be…

Disgruntled and more than a little frustrated, Léon wandered back downstairs to request another washstand from the innkeeper.

He was both surprised and a little worried when he was offered the use of a private cabinet de toilette.

This experience was going to cost him.

But he was determined to make sure it was worth the investment.

After spending some time hiding the horses away, making sure they had all the water and feed necessary, he made himself as fresh and beautiful as he could manage, then made his way back upstairs.

He was rewarded a thousandfold for his patience.

He discovered Henry, resplendent in a white silk shirt that opened deep down his chest, sleeves wide and loose, a careless arrangement of the fabric about his breeches, which were tight and linen and very revealing.

Léon slammed the door in his haste.

“Why did you get dressed? I’m just going to have to take that off again.”

There was food on the table, wine in a decanter, two glasses, meat and cheese, and a huge pile of butter waiting on the bedside table.

But all he saw was Henry’s seductive grin.

“Come get it.”

Léon dashed across the room and leapt on him, tackling him back onto the soft bed.

He ripped the just-put-on shirt from his breeches and tore it over his head.

Henry was gloriously muscular, so firm all over.

His chest and his nipples, his bulging pectoral muscles, and he was all man—all beautiful, glorious, sensual masculinity that Léon had always desired, but somehow, Henry was the pinnacle.

How could his shoulders be so broad and touchable?

Léon leaned down and kissed over them, noting with satisfaction the fresh white handkerchief that wrapped Henry’s bullet wound.

Locking legs around Henry's thighs, Léon pressed hands into his shoulders to hold himself up, taking him in. His partner, for today only. The only one he’d ever had. The only one he wanted or would ever want.

And how could that face even exist? How could his stomach be so taut and rippling? He trailed fingers over the rise and fall of his abdominal muscles, reverent, greedy for every sight and feeling Henry could offer him. Lower, lower, his fingers undulated, until Henry surprised him by taking both Léon’s wrists and stretching them towards the bedhead, so that Léon was eased down onto his chest.

Henry sent tingles through his entire body as he ran fingertips, silken and light, down Léon flanks, cradling his ass when he got there, squeezing him, pulling his body against his own with an approving moan. He moulded a hand to the contours of Léon’s face as he kissed him.

Henry tasted so good. All Léon’s wild imaginings took him over. He wanted to do everything. Everything humanly possible, and all of it, here, today, with this bewitching man.

Henry wrenched at his sweater, and Léon sat up to take it over his head. “I don’t know how to do this,” Henry whispered. “I want you at every angle. I need to see you in every light, in every position. Why are you so beautiful?”

He pushed himself up on strong arms, and Léon’s head tilted back for his kiss on his neck. Henry’s large hand wrenched Léon’s body harder against his own, Léon’s dick straining for him. “Anything you want,” he breathed. “Anything, Henri.”

“Fuck, when you say my name like that. Christ, I adore you, Ange.”

Léon leaned down, kissing a sweep of his ear, his hair still damp from being washed, so clean and fresh and delicious, cool against his lips.

Henry’s hand savoured the sensation of Léon’s ribs, his waist, treasuring the touch of every inch of skin, making Léon feel every bit as adored as Henry said he was.

Henry pulled at the strings of his breeches and soon had a hand sliding over Léon’s dripping dick.

“Henri,” he gasped out between kisses. “Everything. I want everything. Please.”

“We have all day long,” Henry whispered. Then, with a hand on his chin and a hard kiss, he looked deep into his eyes. “You’re a very greedy boy, aren’t you?”

Léon melted, one mess of thrilled nerves as Henry tilted his chin up and licked his jaw. Léon whimpered, “I am, Henri. I’m starved.”

Henry's fingers flexed hard into his back while his hand closed around his cock through his breeches.

“Then what am I going to do with you?”

“Henri,” Léon begged.

Henry gripped his waistband.

“Get off the bed, and take them down for me.”

Off the bed?

Away from Henry? But Henry’s eyes were hot and expectant, glazed with lust, so Léon complied.

He climbed over him and off the bed, slipping his breeches down with a slightly bashful air, his blond hair falling in front of his angelic face.

He looked down with a blush, brought to his cheeks by Henry’s longing gaze.

“Stay there a moment,” came Henry’s soft, charged words.

Naked, in the clear light of day, Léon was ethereal.

His cock was long and gorgeous, invitingly hard, his legs muscular but lithe, his arms so shapely, the lot of him heavenly.

His long eyelashes fluttered from beneath the swath of gold when he forced them to meet Henry’s, and to Henry, he was an idol of sex.

Pure sex brought to life and waiting to be used.

And Henry was going to take his time with Léon.

He rose up onto his knees.

He directed, “Get on the bed, and crawl to me. Slowly.”

With a smile that was both shy and coy, Léon mounted the bed, deliciously compliant.

Henry raised his chin as a sign he should come closer.

He did so seductively, like the natural coquette he was.

Gorgeous, delicate fingers pressing into the blanket, his body so long and slender that Henry wanted to lick him from head to toe.

An inch from touching Henry’s firm flesh, Léon lifted his head, thick locks brushing Henry’s chest. He dragged his lower lip along Henry’s navel as he did it, up over his abs, eyes begging for further instruction, before he started kissing Henry’s abs, softly, so softly.

Looking down at him, the long and delicate line of his spine, the arches of his perfect ass, it took a lot of self control for Henry to not throw him down and fuck him.

But Léon was enjoying the game too much.

And so was Henry. “Take them down.”

Flirtatious to the point Henry could have exploded, Léon blinked playful eyes up to him, then tilted his head and took the string of Henry’s breeches between white teeth.

The way his neck stretched brought Henry’s fingers irresistibly into his hair.

He toyed with silken strands, sending pings of pleasure all through Léon, while Léon worked at his breeches with those beautiful teeth.

Open and further open, Léon took his time, and Henry was somewhere between furious that he’d put them on, and the happiest, most contented he’d ever been in his entire life.

How easily he could spend his whole existence with a man like Léon.

If only every morning could be like this…

Henry’s breeches fell wide open, and the green eyes looked up, just as Henry had hoped they would.

“All the way down, Ange.”

His breath tickled over Henry’s enormous dick as he kept his lips close, using his pretty fingers to slide the breeches over his ass, exposing his lovely cock in full.

But still Léon stayed only tantalisingly close, taking no liberty without direction.

And a mouth like that…

pink, and plump, and round.

It needed to be used properly.

Henry’s firm fingers slid beneath his jaw.

“Open your mouth, beautiful.”

He did, just a little, the smallest parting of his lips.

“I’ll need a lot more than that, Angel.” A little more again, and, “Tongue out,” said Henry.

Hot eyes locked on his, and Léon stuck out his pink tongue, his cheeks hotly flushed, and how perfect he looked.

Henry took his dick in hand and swept the tip around the edge of Léon’s wet tongue.

Henry dripped for him, and the first taste of salty cum that had ever hit Léon’s mouth made him desperate to lap at his cock.

Henry pulled away at Léon’s first attempt.

“When I say.”

Léon let out a soft whine, eager for more of him, but, after waiting a few gruelling seconds, he was rewarded when Henry slid his dick along Léon’s tongue, and finally, deep into his mouth.

Léon fought to keep it open for him—to not close around him and suck.

“Behave,” Henry warned, pulling pre-cum along his hungry tongue.

He thrust in again, slowly, Léon’s mouth desperate, his breath coming harder.

“Christ, you’re so good.” He felt the raise of Léon’s tongue as the desire to have him took over, and he controlled him with the words, “You are such a good boy.”

A deep groan of frustrated desire broke from the gorgeous throat, Léon’s brow wrinkling in a desperate frown which he threw at Henry.

Henry chuckled, took hold of his hair, then ran his dick back into his hot mouth, and Léon didn’t shift away.

He only arched his neck that little bit to take even more of him, his eyes begging Henry, his lips so deliciously wet.

Henry could hardly help himself.

He brought his dick back faster, sank himself in.

“You look so fucking good with my dick in your mouth, Ange.”

Another whimper, and Henry complied with his unspoken wish, fucking his dick into his mouth more aggressively, trying Léon by going further, but his eyes only beseeched him for more and more again.

He worked up a more brutal movement, watching Léon’s back arch, the way his fingers dug deeper into the bed.

Finally, he paused, grabbed his chin, and commanded, “Close.”

Henry immediately doubled over as Léon’s burning mouth drew tight around his dick.

He swallowed him down, more fervently than Henry had dared to think he might.

A ragged gasp broke out of him, and he tried to take control back by sinking two fists into Léon’s hair, but that only seemed to make him more excited.

Léon was like an animal, primal and natural, and he responded to Henry’s grasp by taking him halfway down his throat, fast and fierce and wholly sexual, and thank fuck he was coming to Paris.

“Léon!” The whole day, he’d promised.

A whole day of pleasure.

But just how was he to withstand this?

But how was he to stop it?

Léon’s back undulated invitingly and his ass was gorgeous, and Henry wanted his dick in there so badly.

But this? This was bliss.

This was the single best feeling he’d ever had in his entire life, and the most erotic view of anything in existence.

Léon devoured him like he couldn’t get enough, and the sight of him enjoying his dick was almost as good as the feeling.

It was one of the hardest things Henry had ever had to do, but his desire to see the look on Léon’s face when he came again called the distant word to his lips.

“Stop.”

There was an indecent popping sound as Léon fell immediately to his command.

He was too good to be true.

“Come up here,” Henry said.

Climbing onto his knees to meet him, Léon kissed Henry.

His pupils were blown, eyes moist with the throat fuck, and he exuded the atmosphere of a man of pleasure.

“Did you like that?” Léon whispered.

And he did it so provocatively that Henry instinctively pulled his dick away from him, lest the soft brush of Léon’s skin, combined with those words, put an end to his fucking him.

But his chest pressed against Henry’s, and his body, lightly sweaty, felt too good.

Henry couldn’t help running fingers over the curve of his ass.

“Lie back on the pillows for me.”

Léon’s head dropped to the side, and the tip of his tongue came out to run over his lips, for no reason, it seemed, but to try Henry.

“I was enjoying your dick. I love your dick. I can’t get enough of your dick. Wasn’t I doing well?”

Jesus fucking Christ, this man is going to kill me .

“Lie back on the pillows and you’ll get more dick than you can handle.”

Léon bit his lip.

Henry almost came on sight.

As if he knew, Léon shot a cocky grin at him, then threw himself back with a flourish.

The change was remarkable.

He was unrestrainedly sexual.

Was it the time-limited nature of the thing?

The idea that they would part soon and then it would be only memories?

Or was this who Léon really was?

Always sensual, just beneath the surface, waiting for someone to bring it out of him?

Henry slid his breeches off, then set his lips to Léon’s abs, the sensation of his soft skin on his tongue setting his nerves aflame.

He kissed a path up his body, shifting between his legs.

The precious, silken thighs pressed into his waist, and he ran fingers over them, unable to believe he’d found himself there, wrapped up in Léon.

And it was only about to get better.

He pushed himself up on strong arms, sliding his dick against Léon’s to sweep arms around his neck, kissing him, falling into the welcoming warmth of him for a few delicious moments…

then he leaned over and scooped up a handful of ever-softening butter from the bedside table.

He slapped it down on Léon’s belly.

Léon let out a little cry at the cool shock, but Henry’s warm hand was soon smoothing it across his skin.

It melted, golden and delectable, over his abs, down his sides, and Henry ran a glistening line over his dick.

“Arms out long, Ange,” he said, stroking him.

“I want to watch you enjoy this.”

Barely able to think with the pleasure shooting through his brain, Léon lifted himself a little, stretching two arms out across the many pillows, the top of his back against the headboard, watching Henry’s every move with rapt attention.

Henry took his buttery hand from his dick and traced his thumb across Léon’s lower lip.

“Did you say you’re hungry?”

He pushed two fingers into Léon’s mouth and immediately regretted it.

Léon’s tongue curled around his fingers even as his hips shot forward, and the way he sucked them…

Henry fought the urge to let go.

He dipped his head to Léon’s slathered cock and took him whole, a gasp from Léon’s lips freeing his hand so he could grasp his ribs while he took his dick deeper.

His slick fingers explored Léon’s body, ran through the plentiful trail of gold, then curved two hands beneath his thighs to lift them over his great shoulders, Léon’s calves crossing over his back to pull him close.

“No,” said Henry, trailing his tongue around the tip of Léon’s dick.

“Take your legs wide.”

Keen and sensuous eyes met his molten gaze.

Henry pumped him smoothly, watching Léon’s head roll back.

“You said I’d get dick,” Léon reproached him, closing his eyes, sinking into his pleasure.

“And so you will. If you’re a good boy.” Another groan, and Henry grinned to know he had Léon’s needs down.

Léon eased his legs back just as he was told, and Henry’s slippery hands ran along the plains of his thighs, slowly, provokingly, savouring every inch of skin, until two thumbs met at his tight pink hole.

“Look at you, Ange. You’ve wanted this so badly, haven’t you?” Henry pressed his thumbs to the edge of his rim, and began slow and teasing circles.

He dipped his head to kiss Léon’s huge cock, rising up in front of him.

“I have,” Léon implored.

“I’ve dreamed of you, Henri.”

“Is that so?” Henry pushed the tips of his thumbs into Léon’s ass, pulling gently at the rim as his fingers dug into the begging flesh of his cheeks.

He watched the muscles of Léon’s arms flex as he dug fists into the pillows.

“I dreamed of you too, Ange. I dreamed of sinking my dick down your beautiful throat.”

“Please, Henri,” Léon whimpered.

“I dreamed of sinking my dick up to the hilt in this beautiful ass.” But instead, Henry lowered his lips to Léon’s hole and licked the trail of butter all around his rim.

He indulged in Léon’s pleased, shocked moans, the press of his trembling legs against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” Léon sighed out.

“Are you supposed to do that?”

Henry repressed a chuckle.

The things he wanted to show Léon…

He used his tongue to scramble the part of Léon’s brain that formed words, working him up into a frenzy, then he smoothly sank a finger in.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Léon writhing in pleasure, those lovely fingers twisting in the bedclothes.

Henry took a hold of Léon’s iron dick and he pressed forward.

His body arched in response, and Henry said, “I can’t wait to see you come. I need to watch you come.” He stroked Léon’s dick, worked him for a time until Léon had pulled half the pillow across his face in a vain attempt to stifle his noise, then, regretfully, Henry had to ease off a little to reach for a proper lubricant.

The extra lamp oil he’d requested was fresh and clear and very serviceable, but as the huile de cachalot wasn’t half as sexy as butter, the second he got a handful, Léon’s dick was back in his mouth, and he stretched a second finger in.

Léon never noticed a thing.

The sight of him, legs pulling back, arms out long in determined compliance with Henry’s desire, biting into his lip for some relief, and his hole stuffed with Henry’s fingers…

He worked his dick a little faster, slick, more arousing than anything Henry could ever have dreamed up.

“Christ, you’re pretty,” Henry said.

“I bet you can take another one for me.”

Léon’s body arched in anticipation, and Henry ground his own wet dick into the sheets, desperate for relief from the intensity, especially when Léon replied, “I can take anything you want to give me. I’ll do anything for you, Henri.”

Oh fuck .

He needed to fuck him.

He needed badly to fuck him.

But he was too beautiful a sight to let it be over, because he was sure, if his dick got one taste of Léon’s perfect ass, it would be finished far too soon.

He pumped his ever-fucking fingers out, then slowly started back in with a third.

Léon hissed a breath over his beauteous teeth.

“You’ll need it, Ange,” Henry warned.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

“Please Henri. Please. I want to be good for you.”

“Then take it.” He shoved his fingers deeper to a little cry of ecstatic, wonderful pain from Léon, and he fucked him faster.

It wouldn’t have been possible for Léon to be any more perfect for Henry.

All Henry wanted was to see those white ribbons spurting from his desperate dick.

But he said, “You’ll hold it. You won’t come until I can eat it.” And to test Léon’s strength, he took Léon’s dick right to the back of his throat.

“Oh god, I can’t?—”

Coming off begrudgingly, he demanded, “You will.” He shoved another finger in, watching Léon’s face crumble into unprecedented pleasure, delicious aching, pent-up, frustrated desire.

He closed his lips over the tip of Léon’s dick, and Léon’s entire body was taut with overwhelm, desperate desire to fight it, desperate desire to please Henry, and heavenly delight that he’d spent his entire manhood dreaming of, that, under Henry’s command, was better than anything he’d ever imagined.

Very suddenly, Henry pulled his fingers out, but before he could make his next move, Léon leapt on him.

He knocked him down onto the bed and went straight for his dick.

Henry caught him by the hair, wrenched his mouth close, and forced a kiss against his lips.

“That way,” he directed, and Léon gave him a gorgeous, sex drunk grin as he turned his body, letting Henry pull his leg around until he was straddling his chest, his beautiful, glorious ass right where Henry needed it.

Léon’s mouth enclosed Henry’s dick, and Henry took a few seconds, gripping Léon’s thighs, to get control of himself.

He would have control.

He was determined to make this memorable for Léon, unaware that he’d already obliterated every sexual desire Léon ever had by upstaging them a thousand fold.

Henry couldn’t resist that perfect pink hole.

He pushed two fingers back in, finger fucking his ass while Léon went to town on his dick.

Henry’s hips ground up, and with every push of his fingers, Léon only took him deeper.

“You’re too perfect,” Henry cried.

“You’re too fucking good, Léon.”

How, he couldn’t tell, but the compliment seemed to make Léon even more aroused.

He devoured Henry’s dick, and Henry threw his head back, clenching his eyes shut, trying to not think about coming in Léon’s mouth.

That was an utterly useless exercise, of course.

He yanked Léon’s thighs back, Léon’s dick gliding over his searching tongue.

He took him into his mouth and felt Léon’s body seize up.

Henry put all his desperate effort to not come into concentrating on pleasuring Léon, just as Léon did with Henry.

It was a heated, desperate calamity of sighs and moans, and the sound of sucking and slapping bodies, and it was heaven to them both.

All pleasure in there.

All pleasure, all the places just the two of them were.

Henry locked a hand across Léon’s ass, forcing his dick down into his mouth, while his fingers toyed with Léon’s hole.

Léon let out a cry and his mouth slipped off Henry’s dick as he tried to catch a breath, falling into the intensity.

“Please, Henri,” He almost wept.

“Please fuck me.”

Henry was having a marvellous time, and he fucked Léon’s dick into his mouth even more violently.

Would it matter so very much if he let him come just then?

He could make it up to him later…

But Léon sighed out, “Oh, please. I need you,” and he did it so sweetly, so earnestly, that Henry put aside all his thoughts of fisting Léon, or of having him sit on his face until he screamed, and instead, did the chivalrous thing.

He slipped his fingers out, and grasping Léon’s strong thighs, rolled him off.

Léon, cat-like, moved again for his dick, but Henry caught his chin.

He looked deep into Léon’s fevered eyes, then kissed him, long and hard.

A kiss full of admiration, obsession.

He pulled back and whispered, “I’m never letting you go. Do you know that?” He shifted towards the bedhead, pulling Léon with him until he straddled him.

“You’ll stay in Paris, and you’ll live with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Léon said softly, arching into Henry’s hand at his back, to the tongue that dragged up his neck.

“I’m not letting you go,” Henry repeated, pulling him down to his dick, lining him up.

Léon dug fingers into Henry’s shoulders to steady himself.

Henry took a firm grasp of his hip, sliding his other hand to his thigh, easing him down.

Léon let out a sharp gasp as the first inch sank into him.

Henry’s lips parted over clenched teeth, eyes searing into Léon, needing to see his pleasure.

Léon raised up a touch, and the reticence of him, the quiet refusal of Henry’s request, made him want him all the more.

He kissed his neck, whispering, “Say you’ll stay.”

“Henri…” He settled down again, a shudder of pleasure bursting from both of them.

Henry moved a gentle hand to his cheek.

“Léon, look at me.”

The hazy green eyes opened, caught Henry’s for a moment, then soft hair fell across Henry’s fingers as he looked away.

A gasp escaped Léon when Henry’s hand closed on his ass, pulling him an inch further onto his dick.

“You’re staying.”

Léon rose a little higher, still refusing the eye contact, but letting his being merge with Henry like a plea.

He breathed a sweet sigh when he shifted down, full of Henry, full of his enormous cock, full of his adoration.

So Henry’s hand closed slowly around his throat.

“Léon,” Henry whispered.

Léon stilled at the touch, fingers digging into Henry’s chest, and he finally met his eyes.

He was scared. Not of Henry, but of the words Henry spoke, that kept pulling him into the real world—the world Henry dreamed of, the world Léon was too ground down to believe in.

And Henry realised then that to Léon, he might as well have asked him to move to the moon.

Léon didn’t see a future, not for either of them, together or apart.

He only saw himself blown about by the wind.

“Léon,” Henry said, “I love you.”

“Oh, Henri, no.” A tear started to Léon’s eye, and he shook his head as though he could shake the words away.

“I love you,” he whispered fervently.

And Léon ground down, as if his body was saying the words he couldn't bear to say.

“I love you,” Henry whispered, wrenching him in, and Léon fucked him—fucked him like he’d never imagined being fucked, with so much passion, so much longing. The words had come from nowhere, shot into Henry’s heart like an arrow from Cupid’s bow, but he’d meant them. And he could feel in every breath and movement that Léon meant it too.

Never were kisses so passionate, so alive, so broken-hearted. “I love you, Léon.” He gripped him that much tighter, forcing him down as Léon’s long fingers swept into his hair, grasping handfuls. “You’ll stay with me.”

“Henri…”

“Say it. Please say it.”

Léon’s head dipped against Henry’s, defeated and exhausted. He wanted so much to speak the words Henry wanted to hear. For Henry. But for himself, too. As though saying it might make it real. “I’ll stay, Henri,” he whispered. “I’ll stay with you in Paris. And, oh—” His words were cut off by a sharp thrust, fingers etching bruises into his flesh, the feel of Henry inside him so protective, so powerful, so dominant over his every fear and every horror. As though Henry could ever fix any of it. “I’ll stay with you.”

“That’s right,” Henry rasped against his ear. “More.”

“You’ll take care of me.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll be yours.”

“Forever, Léon. You’re mine. And I’m yours, and I will never let you go.”

Léon curled his head against Henry’s shoulder, wrapping two grasping arms around him, sinking fingernails into his back, and kissed him. His cock thrust up against Henry as he rode him, Henry never once loosening the hold he had on him now. “Promise me,” Léon whispered.

“I promise. I won’t let you go.”

“Make me,” he whispered. “Make me.”

Henry brought gentle fingers, like a shock, to Léon’s desperately overwrought cock. “Harder, Ange. More.”

Léon rode him faster, thrusting his cock into his hand.

“More. Don’t stop.” Henry forced him with his other hand on his ass, an iron grip of control versus the tender lips that kissed his jaw, the powerful force of his chest clinging to him, the pleasurable invitation of his hand, against the denial of his reality…

Léon closed his eyes. Desperate for him, falling to pieces in his arms, he was a wreck for all the promises, all the smell and sound and romance of Henry. How like a painting on a wall, a view into another world, more beautiful and wonderful than his own. A lovely mirage. A chimera that felt as though it were breathing, alive beneath his grasping fingers.

“Look at me.”

All the ideas, all the world, all the sad imaginings, tumbled into one pin prick of light. Henry.

“This is it,” he said. “We’ve found each other.”

A wide, luminous, and deeply genuine smile broke from Léon. It was mirrored exactly on Henry’s adoring lips.

“Beautiful boy,” he whispered. Léon’s lips quivered, his head tilted back. Henry could feel him, so full and ready in his hand. “You can let go now. I’ve got you.”

A shaking gasp ripped out of Léon, exactly as though he’d been waiting his whole life for Henry to say those words. A burst of cum painted his straining abs, Henry’s chest, warm and sensual, and at the sight of Léon coming, his open lips and his entire body given over to Henry… Henry couldn’t hold on a second longer. He spilled his orgasm deep inside Léon, hot and tight and intolerably pleasurable. His body racked with ecstasy, he clamped down on the gorgeous man that held him so close, arms wrapped around him, both of them lost in each other, all rapture, all promise, all hope, and all fire.

He took Léon’s face and kissed him, and he didn’t ever want to stop. And neither did Léon.

But it was Léon who eventually drew gentle fingertips across Henry’s brow, tracing his mussed and sweaty hair back from his temple. Léon who broke the kiss with a melancholy stroke of fingers over his chest, then settled down next to him.

‘Bereft’ wouldn’t have covered it. Something closed in Léon, locked away, and just as fleetingly as Henry had found it, it was gone. He could sense it in the very air, even as Léon lay beside him, pressing his gentle head to his chest, even as Henry’s arm closed around him, fingertips ghosting across his precious skin.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

Léon shook his head, burying his face in Henry’s chest. He almost expected him to turn to ashes, or water, to sink into the sheets, gone forever. He slid a hand across his waist, where Henry caught it, brought it to his lips to kiss it.

Henry shifted down, rolling onto his side, eye to eye. “Please stay with me.” This time, he didn't mean Paris.

He didn’t mean an apartment and a future.

He wanted Léon back, free and his, and unburdened by sadness.

Léon knew. His eyes watered, but he blinked it away, made himself smile and said, “Tell me about Paris.”

Henry swept a wheaten lock behind Léon’s ear and, unwilling to upset him by talking about anything else, said, “You’ll love the house. We’ll have it all to ourselves. It’s spacious and pretty and…” He watched Léon’s eyes dull, a distance growing between them, so he changed tack.

“And… in Paris, it’s beautiful. Winding streets, down every one, a hidden treasure of a bar or a restaurant. And the people… They’re civilised. Smart and well-dressed and witty and brave.”

Léon smiled, sinking into Henry’s well-worn daydreams.

“The buildings are old, ancient, but they hang in a mad scramble over everything. Every wall is a sign or an advertisement, all the things you can have or can do, and there’s everything to do in Paris. And my friends there?—”

“Your friends?”

Henry laughed humbly.

“My father’s friends, mostly. But he won’t have told them what happened back in England. He’ll be playing happy families. And we’ll be accepted into the first circles as soon as I drop my name. Léon, I’ll take you everywhere. No one will care that we’re together after the revolution. We’ll hold hands, and we’ll be in love, and maybe one day we’ll even marry.”

Now it was Léon’s turn to laugh.

He kept all the bitterness and disbelief out of it.

He hardly felt any. Henry’s enthusiasm was so beautiful to him.

So fresh and alive and youthful, as though Léon was touching something of himself that he’d buried with his father seven years earlier.

“How can you claim to be in love, Henri? How can a man fall in love in less than two weeks?”

“Life’s too short these days to not fall in love in two weeks,” Henry returned.

The statement might have sounded flippant, but it was delivered in a sad tone, and the words struck a blow at the iron cage enclosing Léon’s heart.

Henry was right. They might both die tomorrow on entrance to Paris, or be caught earlier and go up in smoke together.

“Get the wine,” Léon said.

“And all the food. And let’s eat it here in bed. Then let’s fuck again. And again, until the sun sets.”

And he was back, the Léon who was true and tangible and vibrant in Henry’s arms. Henry kissed his soft lips.

“How can you ask how I fell in love with you when you’re this easy to love?”

Léon made no protest regarding his claim, imagining it was the scene and the cheer and the carefree element of the moment that Henry was in love with.

But it was quite the opposite.

Léon had never, and would never, be more understood, more seen, and more adored for who he truly was, than by Henry.

Every spark of real life that flickered in him held Henry entranced, on tenterhooks for more, like a card player who’d just bet his last livre, who was praying the next card he turned over would win him the game.