lined him up perfectly to sink deeply into Kit’s warm, welcome heat.
“Yes,” Kit hissed, throwing his head back as Henry sank inside him. “God, yes, like that. Fuck me.”
Henry did his best.
Without his hands for purchase, he was all at sea, trying to give Kit what he wanted with powerful punches of his hips, his expression hazy with lust.
Kit lifted his legs, pulling his thighs back with his own hands, splayed and open and needful.
“Yes, right there,” he panted. “Pound me hard, Henry.”
And Christ, but Henry did, as best as any man could with his hands out of the way.
“Good boy,” Kit gasped, insinuating a hand between them to grasp his own cock and begin stroking it in time with Henry’s thrusts. “Fuck me, Henry. Make me spend.”
Henry redoubled his efforts, hips snapping, chest heaving, eyes glittering—and Kit came like a fountain, his eyes rolling back in his head as the world went grey for long, blissful moments.
When he opened his eyes, he smiled, taking in Henry’s flushed, desperate face, hard, bobbing cock, and the hands that were still clutched behind his neck.
He opened his arms and smiled. “Time for your reward. Come here.”
Relief suffused Henry’s expression as he lowered his arms, then draped his big body over Kit’s smaller one, carefully keeping his weight off Kit.
Kit wound his arms and legs about him, rubbing himself against Henry’s hard length.
“Fuck me,” he whispered against Henry’s mouth. “I want to feel your spend leaking out of me when you’re done.”
Henry’s moan was deep. He wasted no time, pulling back his hips and adjusting his angle to sink deep into Kit’s body.
Kit was sensitive still, but he didn’t care—he wanted this. Wanted to welcome Henry into his body and give him pleasure. Wanted to reward him for the pleasure Henry had just granted him with his willing, perfect obedience.
Henry was close already, so it wasn’t much more than a minute before his thrusts began to stutter. He pushed deep, holding Kit close as he emptied himself, mouthing his throat and moaning low as he came, long and hard.
They lay entwined for several minutes after, breathing slowly returning to normal as Henry’s cock softened and their mingled spend dried stickily between them.
Kit sighed contentedly. “I wish I’d known this was how you liked it when we were first together,” he murmured into Henry’s ear.
“I could say the same to you.”
Kit laughed softly. “True. Did you know back then?”
Henry lifted his head and met Kit’s gaze. “Back then, I couldn’t even admit it to myself, never mind to you.” He shook his head, regret in his soft grey gaze.
Kit’s heart ached, but it was a joyful sort of ache. The pain of the past was still there, but it was part of the joy of the future. What they had once lost, they had now regained, and this time they were older, wiser, kinder men.
Kit had once despaired at how much he loved Henry—the young god who looked certain to crush his heart.
Who had indeed done so.
But this Henry was a man that Kit could trust with his heart. This Henry was a man who had already set his own bruised heart on a silver tray and handed it to Kit, without knowing what damage Kit might do it. Trusting that Kit would not hurt him, but willing to be hurt if it came to that.
This Henry—softer, more vulnerable, and entirely less godlike—was so very much stronger than he had once been. So very much braver.
Kit laid his hand against Henry’s cheek, meeting his gaze.
“Better late than never,” he whispered, smiling.
Henry’s answering smile was sweet.
Epilogue
Kit
Avesbury House, June 1827
14 months later
It was a beautiful morning, so Kit decided to walk down to the green and tranquil pool in the middle of the woods
It was one of his favourite spots in the sprawling grounds of Avesbury House. The canopy of trees over the clearing shaded it from the sun, only letting through gentle, dappled sunlight that glinted on the smooth surface of the water. Kit liked to sit at the base of the willow tree that peered into the pool, listening to the insects drone, and the frogs croak and topple into the water.
Sometimes Kit brought a notebook with him, and sometimes he just sat and looked at the water. Sometimes he came alone, and sometimes with Henry—sometimes they kissed under the tree, like boys. Today, though, Kit was alone. Henry was spending the day with his steward, and Kit was only too happy to leave