18. Anders #2
Ending the call, I lift my gaze and find my entire team staring back at me, similar worry-filled expressions etched across their faces.
“Boss, I need to go.”
“Is everything okay?” Buck asks.
“Henry got pretty drunk, he’s puking his guts up and refusing to go to my place. Cody is with him, but?—”
“Go,” Buck says before I’ve ever finished speaking.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go. I’ll expect you back by eleven a.m.”
“Thanks, boss,” I say, relief evident in my tone as I jump out of my seat and rush toward the door.
I drive faster than I should and make it down the mountain in record time. I’m out of breath by the time I lift my fist and knock on his front door. Cody opens it a moment later, smiling at me as he points toward the bedroom and bathroom I can just about see through the door.
“He’s stopped puking, but he’s going to feel like crap in the morning. Etta said he had three margaritas, a lot less than the others, who were all drunk too. But apparently your man can’t hold his liquor.”
“I doubt he’s ever drunk before,” I say, more to myself than Cody. “Thanks for staying with him, I’ve got it from here.”
“Okay, bro.”
“Do you need to take my car?” I ask, suddenly remembering that Beau came and took the others home.
“Nah, Beau left me his car. Luckily he and Bonnie and the kids were all in town, so we just switched,” Cody says, opening the door and stepping out.
“See you later.”
“Bye,” he says, closing the door behind him.
I take a moment to look around the space. It’s a great apartment, a million times better than the dump he was living in before. Entering the bedroom, my heart clenches at the sight of his sheets on a real bed, not just a mattress propped up on pallets and blocks.
The light is on in the bathroom, and I step into the doorway and find Henry sprawled on the floor, his cheek propped up against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed.
“Fucking hell, Boy, what did you do to yourself?” I ask.
After making sure he’s not about to start puking again, I lift him up and carry him to the bed, trying not to smile as he groans and whines.
Placing him on the edge of the mattress, I start to undress him, but once I have his shirt and pants off, he shucks off his boxers and flops onto his back, his legs spread open, his naked body fully on display.
As much as I’d love to spend the rest of forever looking at the perfection that is naked Henry, it feels weird to enjoy the sight, considering he’s mad at me right now. As difficult as it is to look away, I don’t want him to think I took advantage of him when he was vulnerable.
“Where are your pj’s?” I ask him.
“Hot,” he whines, wiggling around on the bed, making his hard cock bob up and down.
I stifle a laugh, then a groan when he reaches down and fists his cock at the base. His eyes are closed as he starts to softly chant, “Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come,” until his voice fades, replaced with kitten snores.
Unsure what to do, I pull the comforter over him, then head into the bathroom to clean up. Flushing the toilet, I find a bottle of spray cleaner and wipe everything down, throwing the towel and washcloth that are in a pile on the floor into the hamper.
Turning off the bathroom light, I head into the kitchen and open the refrigerator.
A pang of regret and pain stabs me at the sight of its overflowing contents, the shelves full of fresh meat and produce.
Grabbing a bottle of water, I go back into the bathroom and find a bottle of off-brand pain reliever and carry them both into the bedroom, placing them on the bedside cabinet beside him, ready for the morning.
Exhaling, I debate my options. I could and probably should sleep on the couch, but instead I silently strip out of my clothes and slip into the bed beside him.
I plan to leave some space between us, but then he crawls over me, his body instinctively seeking my heat and comfort even through his drunken haze.
Wrapping my arm around him, I try not to look down at where he’s still gripping his cock.
Even a drunken mess, he’s sexy as fuck, and I will my own erection away, knowing that no matter how horny I am, sex is most definitely not on the table right now.
Then I close my eyes and fall asleep with my kitten in my arms.
I wake up several times during the night to check on him, but each time I find him asleep and snoring softly. Having gotten used to the routine of waking early for work, my body is fully awake the moment the sun starts to creep over the horizon.
It’s a little after nine a.m. when Henry starts to stir, a pained groan falling from his lips as he pushes up off my chest an inch, blinking groggily as he struggles to open his eyes.
My fingers tighten a little in his hair, but I force them to relax, continuing my gentle ministrations as I stroke the top of his head.
An hour or so ago, he’d partially woken, just enough to start grinding his hard cock against my thigh.
When I’d tried to stop him, he’d grabbed my hand, placed it on his dick, and then sighed happily and fallen back to sleep the moment I curled my fingers around his length.
He’d whined every time I’d tried to move my hand, which is why my fingers are still holding him firmly.
“Anders?” Henry questions, his eyes half open, his gaze focused on my hand and his hard dick.
“You put my hand there, then moaned if I tried to move it,” I tell him calmly.
“You can move it now,” he says, his voice high-pitched and a little panicked.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I question, squeezing a little before I loosen my hold and start sliding my fist slowly up and down his cock.
“Anders.” My name is half purr, half chastisement, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop until he tells me to.
“Do you want to come, Kitten? You’ve been hard most of the night. I bet you’re desperate for me to give you permission, aren’t you?”
“Why are you here?” he asks breathily, his fingers digging into the skin on my chest.
“Because you went out and got sloppy drunk. Cody called me, so I came to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” I tell him, working my fist up and down his hardness, then running my thumb over the head, spreading the weeping mess of precum along his length.
“You left,” he accuses, even as a wanton groan slips from his mouth.
“I’m an asshole.”
Licking his lips, he nods.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t forgive you,” he pants.
“I know,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. I might be here, he might be letting me touch him, but he hasn’t forgiven me yet, and I understand that.
“That feels…” His words trail off.
“Do you want to come?”
He nods, fast and desperate.
“You know what you have to do.”
“I’m not yours.”
“The hell you’re not. You’ll always be mine. I know I’m an asshole. I know I fucked up, but you never stopped being mine, this will never be over. Now ask.”
“No.” He shakes his head.
Reaching behind him, I part his ass cheeks and find his hole with my thumb. His dick jerks in my hand the moment I start to circle his ass, and he pushes back onto my thumb, trying to push it inside of him.
“Ask me,” I growl.
“Please, can I come?” he says, relenting and asking permission, just like I’ve trained him to do.
Working him fast and hard, I let the tip of my thumb breach his tight hole, and he comes with a yell, covering my stomach in spurts of hot cum.
I work him through his orgasm until we’re both a sticky mess and his dick starts to soften.
“An orgasm doesn’t equal forgiveness,” he says through pants, breaking the silence and shocking me with the coldness of his tone.
“I know. That’s not why I made you come.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because you’re mine, and it’s what you needed. I want to take care of you.”
“You didn’t care about that yesterday.”
Releasing his cock, I cup his cheek with my palm, not caring that I’m coating his face with his own release. “I’m an idiot. And I’d like to explain and try to fix things, if you’ll give me the chance.”
“What is there to explain? We had sex, then you left. You got what you wanted.”
“You think I only wanted to fuck you?” I growl.
His shrug is full of hurt and accusation.
“This has never been about fucking sex, Henry. I have a past, a messed-up past, and I didn’t want that to impact you.”
“That’s not an excuse—” he starts, bolder than I’ve ever seen him before.
“No, it isn’t,” I interrupt. “I met a guy at a BDSM club. We hit it off, our kinks aligned, and we started playing together at the club. After a while, we decided to try to be more than just play partners, and he moved in with me. Things were good, or at least I thought they were, and then he broke up with me. He said my need for control was suffocating him. He said it was too much, that I was too much, that my level of control wasn’t power exchange, it was abuse. ”
Henry sucks in a sharp breath.
“He left me,” I tell him. “I broke this man that I cared for deeply. He told me I abused him, and I had no idea. After that I went to therapy. I avoided relationships. I managed my behavior; I monitored my controlling nature and I was so careful. Until you.”
“Me,” Henry whispers.
“Every need that I was able to curtail with other people, roared to life when I met you. I want to be your everything. I want to look after you, provide for you, dominate you both in and out of the bedroom. I want to become your north, your axis, and everything in between. I want your life to revolve around me, the way mine has around you since the first time I laid eyes on you. But I knew that was wrong. I knew that I couldn’t lay all my crazy, scary abusive needs on you and expect you not to be crushed beneath them.
So, I tried to hold myself back. I tried to temper my desires to what I thought you could handle.
I didn’t want to ruin you, Henry, and I knew I would if I let myself get too out of control. ”
“But—”