as though he hadn’t had plenty of opportunity to explore such possibilities since he’d retired his old profession. Yet it was only now, as he considered the possibilities this offered in relation to Henry in particular, that the idea seemed to take hold of his imagination,
He realised that he had picked up one of the wrist cuffs and was idly stroking the soft leather. And that Henry’s gaze was on his hands, a stripe of pink scalding his cheekbones.
“Do you know, I think I rather would like to fasten you to the bed,” Kit said softly, watching with fascination as Henry’s flush deepened. “If you really would not mind.”
Henry shook his head stiffly and when he met Kit’s gaze, his own was glossy with lust. When Kit glanced down at Henry's crotch, the bulge in the man’s breeches told its own story.
“Will you fuck me?” Henry whispered harshly.
Kit blinked. After a pause, he asked carefully, watching Henry, “Do you want me to?”
Henry swallowed and nodded.
“You like that, then?” Kit asked, surprised. In all their time together, Henry had only ever seemed to want to fuck Kit. He’d never voiced to Kit any wish to explore the alternative. Or indeed asked Kit what he thought.
But now… now Henry was looking away, unable to hold Kit’s questioning gaze.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“You don’t know?” Kit echoed. Was Henry really asking him for something he’d never experienced before? Kit tossed the cuff back in the open drawer and stepped towards Henry, reaching for his jaw and gently turning his face to meet Kit’s gaze again. “Let me understand—are you telling me you’ve never been fucked before?”
Henry’s face was burning now, but this time he did not look away. He shook his head minutely and whispered, “But I want to—that is, I want you to. Fuck me, I mean.”
Kit frowned, thinking back to the previous Friday. All those apologies and that desire for service. Henry’s horror that Kit would not allow him to gift the house at Paddington Green to him, or pay him money. His apologies. Despite Henry’s assurances otherwise, he had a horrible crawling feeling this really was about making amends for Henry.
“Perhaps you should earn the money you owe me the way I had to earn it? On your knees, and on your back, taking my cock like a whore.”
Kit dropped his hand from Henry’s face as though his skin burned and stepped back.
“You don’t need to do that,” he muttered, horrified at the thought that Henry was trying to regain his honour in this way. “I don’t want you to submit to me as some kind of penance.” He swallowed against nausea and turned away.
“That’s not—I’m not doing that,” Henry protested.
“Then why are you—”
“I don’t know.”
Kit whirled around to find Henry’s desperate gaze fixed on him.
Henry said, his voice cracking, “Last week, I—it was different from anything I’ve experienced before. I just want more. If you do, that is.”
He held his hand out to Kit. The leather wrist cuffs dangled from his fingers.
Kit fastened the cuffs to the bed posts carefully.
“Can you move?” he asked softly, and Henry demonstrated that he could.
Henry was naked, wearing only the leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and his big body was held fast. Being so tall, he wasn’t overly stretched, able to maintain a slight bend at both knees and elbows, but my, he was a sight to see. A harnessed beast, tamed and ready for Kit’s pleasure. His breath sawed in and out of chest as he stared at Kit with bright, burning eyes.
Kit laid his hand on Henry’s thigh. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured him.
“I know,” Henry muttered, but he did not relax, his muscles bunched with tension, the cords on his throat standing out.
“Try to find some ease,” Kit said gently, “while I get undressed.”
He smiled at the sudden interest in Henry’s grey gaze, and his hands went to the buttons of his coat.
And suddenly everything was familiar—familiar but different. He was Kit, taking off his clothes for Henry, only he didn’t have to do it this time, if he didn’t want to. This undressing was no act of submission.
He took his time, signalling his power over Henry with the patience of his slow disrobing and the unhurried setting aside of his clothing. He stripped everything away, item by item, till he was—like Henry—fully naked, and Henry was trembling in his bonds, the wet tip of his hefty cock smearing his belly with silvery trails.