Chapter 16 - Henry
Henry
Solo, apparently quite happy where he was, settled down into the loaf position on Jamison’s stomach, purring. I was pretty sure that if Jamison could purr, he’d have been doing the same. Hell, me too, for that matter. It was just a moment of contentment for all of us, I guessed.
Jamison closed his eyes and rested his hand on Solo’s back. “I can feel him vibrating under my hand,” he said with a lazy half-smile.
I stroked his hair again, unable to help myself.
There wasn’t a whole lot of it on most of his head - Jamison kept his hair pretty short other than in the center of his scalp - but what there was of it was soft and silky to the touch.
“Mmm,” I murmured encouragingly, just wanting to savor the moment.
He turned his head and planted a gentle kiss just above my knee.
Through my flannel pants, by rights I should hardly be able to feel anything but a slight pressure, but I would have sworn his lips scorched me right through the fabric.
My soft dick gave a twitch in response, and I winced, not wanting to get hard right under his head.
That would be…I didn’t know, something between ‘rude’ and ‘embarrassing’.
Jamison, oblivious to my struggles, turned slightly onto his side and nuzzled deeper into my leg, Solo equanimously along for the ride and settling into his new position without protest. “You’re warm,” he said into my leg, his voice slightly muffled.
What was the correct answer to that? “Sorry?” I ventured cautiously.
“No, s’nice.” He pressed another kiss to my thigh, higher up this time. “Missed you this week.”
My hand tightened in his hair for a second before I forced myself to loosen my grip.
He’d missed me? I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
That I’d missed him too was a given, but I hadn’t wanted to push him and make him feel smothered, and now I wasn’t sure if returning the sentiment would be too…
too something. Needy? But he’d said it first, so maybe it wouldn’t be.
“Hen?” he said, turning his face up to me and opening eyes that had been closed. I realized that once again, I’d been silent for too long. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“No!” I interrupted him before he could finish apologizing.
“You’re fine. I just, um, wasn’t sure what to say to that.
” Jamison opened his mouth, but before he could get out whatever he was about to say, I went on, “I missed you too. A lot. Like, enough that it was probably a little weird. So I wasn’t sure if I should say that. ” Word vomit. Great job, Hen.
Jamison’s solemn face transformed into a smile and he met my eyes.
“It’s not weird. I feel like we’ve…I don’t know, bonded?
Between the HIV thing and then the cats, and just talking and hanging out…
I feel close to you. Which is maybe a little weird considering how we met and that we’re technically still in the middle of an HIV scare. ”
I’d managed to almost forget about that for long periods, and then it would come rushing back to me in a flood of anxiety.
Oddly, this was not one of those moments.
I didn’t tense up, and I didn’t feel a sudden surge of renewed worry.
Whatever happened, Jamison and I were in it together.
I stroked his hair back from his face. “It doesn’t feel weird. ”
He lifted the hand that wasn’t resting on Solo and tangled his fingers with mine just above his head. “It doesn’t,” he agreed. “Not sure what that means.”
I leaned down over our joined hands and kissed his forehead lightly.
“Does it have to mean something?” I asked philosophically, then paused.
“Wow, that was very zen of me. I should be freaking out right now,” I noted, feeling around mentally for the anxiety that usually permeated my brain. “I’m not sure why I’m not.”
“Mmm.” He tipped his head up and kissed my wrist. “Feels too good to freak out.” He lifted his hand from Solo’s back, pulled his other hand out of mine, and slowly rolled onto his stomach, putting his face nearly into my crotch and letting the cat barrel-roll with him.
He settled his chin onto his hand on top of my right thigh and looked up at me through his lashes. “Hi.”
I couldn’t restrain my answering smile. Or the flex of my dick in my jeans under him. There was no concealing it at this point, but hell, if he wasn’t interested in feeling my dick, he shouldn’t be laying on top of it. “Hi.”
He lowered his head and nuzzled the spot where my thigh met my groin.
Through the thick material of my pants, I mostly just felt the pressure, but I could easily imagine the soft press of his lips against the sensitive skin there.
He lifted his head again and met my eyes, a question going unasked between us.
I nodded my silent assent, eyes wide, and his hands went to work on my pants.
Within seconds, he had my waistband’s drawstring untied and he reared back enough to allow me to lift my hips so he could slip my pants down to my thighs.
He kissed the crease of thigh and groin again, and this time I could feel the warmth and a slight suction through the fabric of my underwear.
I gasped and stroked a finger at the edge of his hairline as he continued to kiss me. “You’re so good.”
He grinned up at me. “I can be even better, I promise you.” And with that, he lowered his head again, kissing around the waistband of my boxer-briefs and slowly easing the elastic down an inch so he could kiss even lower than that.
I let out a frankly embarrassing groan, considering my dick wasn’t even being touched, but the sound seemed to please Jamison, who met my eyes for a moment, his pupils dilated wide, then lowered his head back to what he’d been doing.
“Much better,” he murmured into my skin.
I couldn’t stop carding my fingers through his short hair, making it stand on end. “Jamison…” I breathed as his hand came up and tightened on my thigh just as his mouth made contact with the very base of my dick.
He pushed back onto his knees, dislodging the cat, who made a disgruntled noise but dismounted his human ride without deploying his claws.
“Sorry, Solo. You probably don’t want to be up close and personal with what’s about to happen, anyway.
” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a secretive smile and he looked at me.
“This floor is hard on the knees. Want to try the bed?”
I blinked at him for a moment, trying to process his words in my sex-drenched brain, and then realized he was right.
We were sprawled out on a hardwood floor with not even a rug to soften it, and there was a bed two feet away.
“Bed.” I agreed, scrambling to my feet and grabbing his hand to pull him up behind me.
It was a movement made somewhat awkward by the fact that my pants were still around my thighs and threatening to fall farther - damn stretched-out pajamas - but I managed it without tripping somehow.
I started to pull him onto the guest bed, and then something occurred to me.
Well, two things. Thing one: there were no lube or condoms in this room.
Why would there be; it was a guest room.
Thing two: I had a perfectly good, and well-stocked, actual bedroom one door down. What was I even doing?
I snatched up my drooping pants and secured them at my waist, belatedly catching the eye of Jamison, who looked disappointed. “We don’t have to -” he began warily.
I shook my head and seized his wrist. “My room,” I said shortly. “There’s lube in there.”
His eyes widened in understanding and his smile reappeared. “Lead on,” he told me. And then he shoved a hand down my pants and pinched my ass.
I jumped and maybe sort of squeaked just a little. In a manly way, of course. Laughing, I slapped at his hand. “Hands off the merchandise until we get there.”
“Mmm.” He obediently withdrew his hand, but then used it to cup his own cock, bulging in his jeans. “Better hurry, then.”
I could do that. I grabbed his hand and nearly pulled him out of the room, pausing just long enough to peek over my shoulder at Solo, who had settled atop the bed, before I shut the door behind us.
“He’s fine,” I told no one in particular, spinning away from the guest room door and heading for my room.
“‘Course he is,” Jamison said agreeably. His fingers danced along the waist of my pants, dipping just slightly into the elastic in the back as he followed me down the hallway. “He’s got everything he needs in there, plus he just got treats and attention. You’re a good cat daddy.”
How could he be doing dirty things with his hands at the same time he was confidently reassuring me about my animal care skills?
By the time we reached my bedroom door, mere steps away from the guest room in reality even though it had felt like a mile, I was panting.
I turned the doorknob, for a second unreasonably worried that it would be locked even though I lived alone and you couldn’t lock the door from the outside, but it gave way and we tumbled into my bedroom joined at the hip and hand.
My bedroom was no great shakes; its style matched the rest of my cabin, which was to say it was relatively sparse.
A king-sized bed, covered in my gray weighted blanket, took up most of the space, leaving just enough room on one side for a tall nightstand and on the other for a wingback chair and ottoman.
The chair was currently full of a pile of - thankfully, clean and folded - laundry that I hadn’t put away, and there was a stack of books serving as a side table to it.
My bed wasn’t made, but it wasn’t a “this person sleeps like a toddler” disaster, either, so I was going to call that a win.
“Hen?” Jamison said quietly from behind me, and I realized I’d been standing in the doorway, evaluating my room with a critical eye, for a good minute, leaving the poor guy to wonder why I’d stopped short.