Page 2 of Restored

He stayed there, on his knees, for a good few minutes, enjoying Henry. Enjoying his lover. Henry, who had somehow become, in ten short months, Kit’s entire world. His keeper and master.

The master he could reduce to a begging heap with his mouth.

“Oh God, Christopher—stop,” Henry pleaded at last, “before I spend in your mouth. Let me inside you.”

Kit raised his head. Henry’s expression was abandoned, full lips open, cheeks flushed, dark hair in disarray. His big body was sprawled out in the chair like an offering. Kit loved that sight—loved to see this powerful, beautiful man dazed with lust.

Let me inside you.

He loved that Henry didn’t order him around, as though Kit was his slave. That he asked Kit for his favours, as though they were true lovers.

That when Henry said his name, it felt as though he was speaking of something—someone—he adored.

Scrambling to his feet, Kit clambered on top of Henry, straddling him so they were face to face. He’d oiled himself earlier in readiness for Henry’s arrival, and so it was that he only had to grasp the man’s shaft in his hand and lower his body slowly down, taking Henry’s beautiful cock into his body in a slow, undulating slide that had them both gasping.

“Kiss me,” Kit demanded once Henry was fully seated inside him, and Henry obliged, taking Kit’s mouth eagerly as his cock pressed deep and his strong hands settled on Kit’s hips, urging him to rise up and sink down on Henry’s thick shaft.

Kit was near sobbing with pleasure by now. Henry fit him so well. With each upwards stroke, the blunt end of his cock grazed that sensitive spot inside Kit that made him practically combust. He loved each brutal, tender stroke, and the scrape of Henry’s evening beard against his chin as they kissed. Henry’s strong fingers digging into his hips. The evidence of Henry’s passion would be written on Kit’s body tomorrow in pale blue smudges, and Kit gloried in it.

Henry tore his mouth from Kit’s. “Christopher,” he gasped. “I can’t hold back any longer. Let me see you spend. Please.”

Kit groaned and let his climax take him, his hand working his cock as his lithe body moved, his spend exploding from him in blood-warm pulses, spattering Henry’s chest and neck. And then Henry was coming too, his hands holding Kit firmly in place as his cock pumped seed into Kit’s body, flooding his arse.

They sagged against one another, foreheads damp, breath mingling as they panted. At length, as their harsh breathing quieted, Henry turned his face, kissing Kit’s cheek, and stroking his hair with a gentle hand. It felt so perfect—Kit had to bite his tongue to stop himself blurting out something foolish. Henry’s tenderness always did him in, these after-gestures so sweet they made his eyes sting.

At last, when he felt he had himself under control, he pulled back to look at Henry. Henry’s head was lolling against the back of the armchair now, and his smile was lazy, his eyes warmly contented.

“You look happy,” Kit said softly.

He wished he hadn’t spoken when he saw Henry’s smile wilt a little and his grey gaze cloud over with something Kit recognised as guilt. He knew that Henry loved their time together, but he knew too that Henry was devoted to his family… and that he saw his need for Kit as a weakness.

It made Kit afraid that one day, Henry would decide he should not come any more.

And that day may come all too soon. In two months, their year’s contract would be at an end, and it would be for Henry to decide whether to renew it.

Henry forced his smile back, raising his brows teasingly. “How could I not be happy?” he said. “When I have the most beautiful boy in London, all to myself?”

Kit saw the move for what it was—Henry swerving away from that brief moment of heartfelt intimacy, reaching for something light and easy instead.

“Christopher?” Henry said tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

A lump rose in Kit’s throat, and his heart grew heavy in his chest, even as he reminded himself of Mabel’s long-ago advice:

"Always be agreeable; never complain. You are your protector’s refuge from his other cares. If you can be that, he’ll keep you in luxury, and when you part, you’ll still be friends.”

Their bargain was really very simple: Kit’s smiling service for Henry’s gold. The truth was, Henry had neither asked for, nor did he want, Kit’s affection.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Kit said softly, forcing himself to smile. “Quite the opposite. Everything’s wonderful.” He began the awkward business of uncoupling himself from Henry and getting back to his feet. Henry didn’t press the point, but Kit felt the man’s gaze on him as he lifted his robe from the floor and slid it over his shoulders again.

Kit made himself turn, made himself smile at Henry invitingly and lift his eyebrows. “Are you coming to bed?”

The last remnants of Henry’s frown dissolved, his eyes warming with humour. “Yes, but I’ll need to sleep. I’m weary to my bones.” He yawned, then stood, tucking himself inside his breeches again before heading for the door.

Kit bent and picked up the coat and cravat Henry had discarded. He did not like to leave their discarded clothes on the parlour floor for the servants to tidy away. The house had only one live-in servant, Hodge, an old retainer of the Asquith family who Henry trusted implicitly and who slept in the butler’s rooms, just off the kitchen. Hodge retired to his rooms each evening, only coming out to admit Henry when he visited before returning to his own quarters. The other servants went home each evening after tending to Kit’s needs.

Kit extinguished the candles in the parlour, then followed Henry out into the hall and up the short flight of stairs to the master bedchamber where Henry was already wearily pulling off the rest of his clothes.

Kit picked up each discarded item and carefully hung them in the wardrobe, twitching the crumpled fabric straight to encourage the creases to fall out.