Light Me Up

5. Henry

CHAPTER 5

HENRY

Despite the physical exhaustion that pulls at me, I can't sleep. I'm both more relaxed and more tense than I think I've ever been, due to the absolute force of the orgasm I had just over two hours ago.

It's fucking with my head. I'm agitated, tormented by the visual images of holding his head in place while I fucked his mouth like a plaything. And he liked it. I watched him stroke himself while he gagged on me, and the harder I made him take me, the more his cock dripped and jerked until he came all over himself the moment my cum hit the back of his throat.

I don't think anything has ever felt so damn good as Ian's mouth.

Jesus.

I'm so fucked.

I don't even like the little prick. And I let him…

Him. He's a man. Fuck, not much more than a boy when I remember that he's the same age as my own kid. Because he's my son's best friend.

Am I really this desperate? I mean, sure, it's been a while. But I've been perfectly happy on my own, focusing all my time on the restaurant and my few hobbies. I run and cook, making up new specials for the restaurant, and I play poker with the guys every so often. I suppose I get lonely sometimes, because I miss my son, my partner, my buddy.

But relationships? I have no desire to date. I've been perfectly content with my own company, and my hand has suited me just fine every morning in the shower.

It has to be the stress of having someone like him—someone that takes up so much space with his big personality and cocky attitude—in my space when I'm so used to my own company. If I'm honest with myself, I'm a little jealous he gets to spend so much time with Michael. And he pisses me off so much.

I must have just needed to take it out on him, and he caught me in a rare moment of weakness. I haven't been sleeping well since he got here, and I very pointedly did not jerk off in the shower this morning after seeing him in his ridiculous Speedo. So it was just a fluke, brought on by stress, lack of sleep, and a need for physical release. That's all.

My eyes open, and I stare at the ceiling for a while. It's still dark out, which means it's probably still very early. When I turn my heavy head to look at the clock on the nightstand, I confirm that it's not quite five. An anguished sigh heaves from my chest, and I give up pretending that I'm likely to get any more sleep. I've dozed a little in between bouts of panic, where I wake up sweaty and erect, aching for something that I need to put far, far from my mind.

Resolved to run the restless energy off, because being exhausted is better than being worked up over Ian, I lurch out of bed and get dressed for a run. The moment my shoes hit the pavement, I start to relax. And by the time I pass my fifth mile, which is more than double my typical daily run, my lungs and legs are burning enough to give me some blessed peace of mind. I run until I can't think of anything but the pain, and the sun has risen past the point it normally does when I end my daily runs. I plan on avoiding my usual routine so I don't have to run into Ian, opting to take a few walking laps around my neighborhood before heading straight upstairs for a shower. Despite not wanting to jerk off in the shower thinking about Ian's hot mouth, I think it's best not to leave myself on edge. It's inevitable that I'll have to see him today. The last thing I need is to start the day hard and wanting.

Despite soaping myself up and painting the tile with more force than usual, my dick doesn't seem to want to deflate to anything less than half-mast. I leave my button-up shirt untucked and wear one of my darker pairs of jeans to try to disguise it.

Straightening my spine, I head into the kitchen where Michael and Ian are loading their breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and pour my coffee into a travel mug.

"Morning Dad," Michael says with a strange expression. "Long night?"

"Nope, all good. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, we're ready. Are you?" he says, and motions to his shirt like I'm missing something obvious.

I startle, finally noticing what's right in front of me. Michael, and I'm sure Ian, whom I'm avoiding looking at, is wearing a crisp, black button up shirt with a gorgeous logo printed on the breast. It has The Sunrise Bar and Grille written in light blue, sloped font. Behind and over the text is a stunning gradient of colors that seem to grow off the blue of the letters, and a large orange sun. A perfect sunrise.

"What is this?" I exclaim. "Michael, did you make this? It's amazing!"

"Actually, Ian did. I gave him the idea, and he did the artwork. We had them printed on iron-on patches, so all the employees can put them on their existing shirts. If you like it, that is. I was thinking that, since you already have all the staff wear black shirts, this would be an easy way to incorporate a logo. We can make adjustments or do something completely different if you'd like."

As much as I don't want to give Ian credit for anything, it's a beautiful logo. "I love it, son. Truly." I even cut my eyes up to Ian briefly. "Thank you both. I can't wait to show them off."

"Well, in that case, you should wear yours. Take your shirt off and I can iron your patch on real quick. It'll only take a second."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Strip, Mr. B," Ian says, his voice sounding hoarse.

I stare blankly at my son, pointedly avoiding thinking about the sound of Ian's voice.

"Take off your shirt so I can put your logo patch on. Who better to show it off than the boss, right?"

"Oh. Right. Of course." Not wanting Michael to think I'm not excited about the new logo, I start unbuttoning my shirt. I'm wearing a white undershirt underneath, but I still feel weirdly exposed. I hand my shirt to Michael, and they place it on the tabletop ironing board I hadn't noticed when I entered.

I overhear Michael talking to Ian while they attach the logo. "Dude, you sure you're feeling okay? You sound rough."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just a sore throat."

"If you're not feeling well, maybe you should stay back," I suggest hopefully, before I can think better of it.

"It's nothing I can't handle. Just not used to using it as much as I have recently."

I cough. Michael, thankfully not picking up on any of the innuendo, laughs."I've literally never witnessed you shut up," he says to Ian before patting me on the back. "You alright there, old man? I feel like I should drink some extra vitamin C if both of you might be coming down with something."

"That's a good idea," Ian says, bringing my shirt over and holding it out for me to slip my arms into. I want to tell him off, snatch my shirt back and inform him that I can dress myself, but I don't want Michael to catch on to any unusual tension. Ian slips the fabric over my shoulders, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of my neck, raising chill bumps. I raise my shoulders to suppressa shiver and move away. "You know what though, I heard vitamin D is just as important for the immune system."

The smug bastard has the gall to wink at me behind Michael's back.

By the end of the lunch rush, I'm so tired that I could almost believe I am actually coming down with something. On top of my exhaustion, I definitely overdid it on my run this morning. I spend most of the day sitting in the office, which only serves to make things worse. Not only am I fraught with tension over being in a relatively small space with Ian, but I don't spend enough time moving my muscles. By the time closing rolls around, I'm so stiff I can barely hide how sore I am.

"You know what you need?" Michael says.

"A younger body?" I reply, pretending I don't notice Ian looking me up and down appreciatively.

"Besides that," Michael laughs. "I think you need a beer and a soak in the hot tub."

"That actually sounds perfect."

When we get home, Michael gets a few beers out while I step out of my clothes, opting just to get in the hot tub with my boxer briefs so I can avoid walking up the stairs until I'm a little less sore. Ian, for once, goes upstairs and leaves us alone, so I get a few blessed minutes without the torment of his presence. It doesn’t last long though, until Ian joins us, thankfully not in that stupid Speedo. Not that the tiny shorts he is wearing are much better.

"Here," Ian says, passing me a joint.

"Are you out of your mind?" I say, glaring at him.

"Dad. It's a good idea. It'll help you relax," Michael says. "You realize it's legal now, right?"

"It's medicinal," Ian says.

My eyes roll and I give my son a pointed look. "It's not that I have any issues with marijuana, aside from the fact that the smell lingers everywhere you go." I narrow my eyes at Ian as he lights the end of the joint. "But that shit makes you silly, and I'm not about that life."

"You're right," Ian says sarcastically, nodding sagely and turning his head to blow out a long stream of smoke. "Wouldn't want to enjoy yourself."

Michael snorts.

"The last time I got high, you happened," I say, pointing a finger at my son.

Everyone bursts out laughing at that. Ian chokes on a lungful of smoke.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're safe from that happening tonight," Michael says, laughing and plucking the joint from Ian's fingers to pass to me.

I stare at him, and he raises an eyebrow pointedly. With a resigned sigh, I take it and take a small puff. I try to pass it back, but they both stare daggers at me.

"Fine," I say exasperatedly, bringing the joint to my lips and taking a long drag. I handle the first one okay, but the second one has me coughing. Michael pats me on the back.

The effect is almost instantaneous. All the tension in my neck and shoulders melts away, the majority of my aches and pains dissolving as a pleasant heaviness draws my head back against the side of the hot tub. I think I might even doze off, listening to Ian and Mike talk about what some of their friends are moving onto now that they’ve graduated. I'm aware enough to overhear and somewhat engage when they talk about Chloe, and his plans for their first date tomorrow.

"You should take her out on the boat," I tell him, my eyes closed.

"How high are you?" Michael asks incredulously.

"Not high enough to make any bad decisions," I assure him. "You're old enough, and responsible. Just don't drink and drive, which you wouldn't do in a car anyway."

"Ooh, you could take her to that fancy place on the other side of the lake, you know the one, on the pier? Then after dinner, go for a romantic walk on the boardwalk. Don't they always have some kind of live music or something going on out there during tourist season?"

"Lakeside Bistro? I doubt I could get a reservation so quickly, even on a Tuesday. But it's not a bad idea for another time."

I grin at my son. "Son, this is when name dropping comes in handy."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "You know the owner well?"

"He's part of my regular poker group. I'll give him a call in the morning."

"That's awesome. Thank you." By the smile on his face, you'd think we'd solved some major dilemma.

"Glad to help, son. I didn't realize you were nervous about it."

Michael shrugs, blushing a little.

"He reeeeeally likes her," Ian replies, offering the joint back to me. Or maybe it's a new joint. I don't know.I take it willingly this time.

"She must be something special."

Michael doesn’t reply, just looks down at his feet dangling in the water, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Aww, look at him blush," Ian coos, and I can't help but chuckle along with him, because it's honestly pretty precious. I don't think I've ever seen my son so smitten over anything or anyone.

"Shut it," Michael says, kicking his foot to splash Ian. He's silent for a few moments before he stands. "I'm gonna go call her and tuck in for the night."

Ian and I snicker like idiots, and I hate to admit that I'm actually enjoying this. I'll blame it on the weed, despite being perfectly in control of my faculties. I am more relaxed than I've been in a long time, though. I'm honestly ready to go to bed, except I don't want to get out of this water. There's a jet hitting me perfectly in the small of my back where I have so much tension built up. Too bad there isn’t a jet near my right hamstring.

I take a pull off the joint as he climbs out of the hot tub. Michael thumps me on the shoulder as he walks past.

"Don't let Ian knock you up," he says jokingly, and I sputter.

Ian barks out a laugh. Before I can recover properly, I call out, "If anyone's getting pregnant, it's him," before I realize what I'm saying.

Michael walks away, laughing and shaking his head, already with his full attention on his phone. I'm staring at the bubbling water, convincing myself that I didn't just say that. Jesus fucking Christ. Maybe I'm higher than I thought.

There's a moment of silence, where I stare at the door as Michael shuts it behind himself. I stare until the porch light clicks off, and the only light is coming from the lights imbedded in the in-ground pool and jacuzzi.

The jets turn off and I look up to find Ian staring at me.

"Is that so?" he asks slowly, taking a drag from the end of the joint and flicking the roach away.

He glides over to me, and my entire body goes rigid as he leans over me, caging me in with one hand on either side of my head. He leans his face over me, his lips hovering just above mine, before I feel the brush of his exhale. My lips part, and I breathe in, sucking the smoke from his mouth, before his lips meet mine.

My lungs burn, but not as much as my lips do as I succumb to a scorching hot kiss. Before I know it, I'm pulling Ian down on my lap, and he straddles me, rolling his body into mine. The cotton of my boxer briefs doesn't do anything to hold in my arousal. I can feel Ian's hardness against mine, but he's too confined in those tight shorts he's wearing. I pull at the waistband, wanting him free. I didn't get to feel him last night, and right this moment, my inhibitions are lowered enough that I decide I can pretend this isn't real later.

Ian pulls back enough to use one hand to pull his swim shorts off before climbing back into my lap. He returns his mouth to mine, and we're kissing feverishly, hands touching, roaming everywhere. I'm too nervous to touch his cock at first, watching with fascination as he sits back and strokes himself, rubbing his ass against my erection. My fingertips dig into his hips as I pull him against me, pushing my cock up against him as I tentatively wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him slowly. He's smaller than me, but still long with a slight curve. I get a feel for him, how to hold him, and the way he groans when I squeeze as I stroke over the head. I play with the foreskin and marvel at the little pants that fall from his puffy, kiss bruised lips.

Ian reaches down to angle my cock, rubbing his ass cheeks against it. He pulls at the waistband of my boxer briefs, and lift my ass to pull them down and free my cock. He pumps me, slow and rough, enough to make me groan and buck into him.

"Stand up," Ian says against my mouth. I'm too far gone to second guess anything that's happening here, so I do, letting Ian move me so that I'm leaning in the corner of the hot tub. He kisses my neck and lifts one of my legs, rolling his hips into me before setting my foot down on the adjacent seat. It gives him a better angle to take both of us in his hand, wrapping his long fingers around us both and stroking us together. My pants and moans match his, and I alternate between watching our cocks together beneath the water and kissing him, licking into his mouth to get more.

With one hand wrapped tightly around our cocks, Ian leans over and presses the button for the jacuzzi. A burst of pressure blasts me in the ass, right between my cheeks, above my balls.

"Fuck," I gasp, as I feel myself start to pulse, and Ian's hand grips us tighter together.

My orgasm hits, and sets off his, and he strokes us both through them, the water growing cloudy with our combined release before the bubbles hide the evidence. Ian's forehead leans against mine, and we pant, until the jet assaulting my balls becomes a little too much to bear.

I pull away from him, overthinking my next move. I don't want to get out and do the walk of shame, butt naked, across the deck into the house. I'm overheated, though, so I pull myself up to sit on the edge.

There's silence as we both absorb what just happened. Clearly, this isn't just a knee jerk reaction to my overall anger towards him. And I don't think I can blame the weed, either, as much as I'd like to. If anything, it's given me an odd sort of clarity. There's something about Ian that gives my cock a mind of its own. He sets something off in me that I don't know that I've ever felt.

We both speak at the same time.

"I'm straight."

"I'm a top."

The only reaction I'm capable of is a slow blink. That we're so far off from what the other is thinking is kind of funny, though, and I find myself laughing. Once I start, I can't stop.

Now I feel high.

"You want to light up another or have you had enough? I'm not sure how much you need to talk yourself out of what's happening here," Ian says with a crooked grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm good," I say, still chuckling. "I'm just high enough to not be freaking out, but clearheaded enough to be in control of myself."

"You sure?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "You're not going to wake up tomorrow and try to pretend I don't exist, or like you don't like it when I make you cum."

A shiver runs from the top of my spine to the bottom, making my cock twitch. I don't have a response to negate what he's saying, choosing my next words carefully.

"I'm sorry if I was a dick. You just really bother me."

He cocks his head. "What about me bothers you, Mr. B?"

"First of all, that you're young enough to call me Mr. B."

"Do you prefer Daddy?"

"Absolutely not."

He hums noncommittally. "So, you're bothered by the fact that some young, hot piece of ass is into you?"

I scoff. "And that brings me to the second thing, your ever-present humble nature."

He grins, flashing me perfect, bright white teeth. Imagining him in braces helps me calm my rising libido. Dating someone half my age has never appealed to me, man or woman.

"And there's the whole thing about you being straight."

"Yeah, there's that."

Ian meets my eyes with a pointed look. "I don't think you're as straight as you think you are, Henry." The sound of my name on his lips makes blood rush to my groin, and Ian turns his pointed gaze to the way I grow at his attention.