He tried to put away his smile as moved towards Henry, but his mouth would not comply. The corners tugged up at the edges, and even when he tried to bite his lips into submission, they stretched upwards, betraying him.
Christ, was he sixteen years old?
“Good evening, your grace,” he said when he reached Henry. “I wondered if I would see you tonight.”
“Really?” Henry said, and he looked genuinely surprised. “I thought my eagerness was rather embarrassingly obvious. I was only worried you might decide not to let me in after all.”
Kit couldn’t stop staring at him. His gaze ate Henry up, travelling over his strong, appealing features, cataloguing again the changes that time had wrought.
God, he was being pathetic. He gave a sharp little shake of his head, as though to dislodge his thoughts—Henry was here to talk about the past, that was all.
“I won’t ban you from the place before you’ve even had a chance to see it,” Kit said. “I didn’t give you the tour last week, but I’ll rectify that now. Come with me—I’ll show you what brings my faithful patrons to my door, night after night.”
Kit led Henry down the twisting corridors that led from the respectable rooms in number fifteen to the scandalous back room in number seventeen.
He paused outside for a moment, his hand on the door knob. “I’ll warn you, it can get rather heated in here, but it’s early yet—so I doubt it will be too shocking.”
Henry gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I promise not to faint.”
Kit opened the door and gestured him inside.
The room was reasonably busy, despite the early hour. There were perhaps twenty men scattered around in couples and small groups. Some were pressed up against walls, while others occupied chairs and low sofas. Some of the men were entirely naked, others fully or partially dressed. Most were participating in mutual pleasuring, but a few simply observed from the sidelines. Kit tipped back his champagne glass, watching as an older man rose from knees, kissed the hand of the man he had been servicing, and moved to a second man in the group to offer his mouth.
Kit glanced at Henry. His face was flushed, and he wore an expression of mingled discomfort and arousal that made Kit’s cock harden in his breeches far more effectively than anything else in the room.
Henry cleared his throat. “Are any of these men prostitutes?” he muttered.
Kit shook his head. “This is where my patrons gather to seek companionship from their fellow members”—he winked at Henry to underline the pun—“so to speak.”
Henry gave a dry laugh of his own, but his smile was strained.
“Some of them like to perform publicly,” Kit went on. “Others will find a partner and use one of the private rooms—I’ll show you those in a moment. Others still prefer to pay someone for their services. They’ll meet them in the clubroom or one of the gaming rooms in number fifteen, then come through here for their assignation. Why? Were you hoping to engage someone?” He raised his brows at Henry, as though in invitation, even as his stomach twisted sickly.
Henry looked shocked—hurt, even. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone else,” he said. “I came here to see you.”
It was stupid to feel gratified by that, and Kit felt irritated at himself. He turned away to hide his reaction, saying, “Come on then.”
He led Henry out of the back room and down the corridor.
“These are the private chambers I mentioned,” he said, waving his hand at four identical wooden doors. “These ones are all occupied. I’ll take you up to the next floor and show you one of the ones up there. Those are nicer in any event.” He strode towards the stairs.
“You don’t need to—” Henry began behind him.
“Oh, but I want to,” Kit said, and began climbing the narrow winding steps.
All the chambers on the next floor were empty, so Kit took Henry into one of the larger and better equipped ones, lighting the candles in the sconce on the wall before closing and locking the door behind them.
It was an airy room with a big, comfortable bed and sumptuous drapes. A padded bench at the end of the bed could serve in a number of ways, and the drawers in the armoire were full of items that the patrons could make use of.
“Come and see this,” Kit invited, opening the top drawer.
Henry joined him, staring down in silence at the leather straps and crops laid out carefully inside.
“We cater to all of our patrons’ needs,” Kit said, smiling. He could not help but enjoy the shocked expression on Henry’s face. He closed the drawer and opened the second one, revealing three dildos in varying sizes, and some wrist and ankle cuffs.
Kit pointed at the rings on the cuffs. “These can be fastened to the bedframe.”
He glanced at Henry, whose gaze was fixed on the contents of the drawer. Henry swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.
Kit’s heart was racing. Without thinking it through he said, “Do you want to make use of any of them, Henry?”
Henry was quiet for a moment, then he turned to look at Kit, his grey eyes glittering faintly. “I just want to serve you. It’s up to you whether to use any of them.”
Kit stared at him, unsure what to say. He hadn’t really let himself think about this, since the week before. Henry’s willingness—no, eagerness—to serve Kit had astonished him but he had not imagined that it would continue.
Kit looked Henry up and down, remembering how he had looked unclothed. Broad-shouldered and rough with hair, his limbs strong and well-formed. A big, beautiful male body, the kind that Kit liked best. It always surprised him, how many men seemed to like his shorter, slender body when his own preferences ran in such a different direction.
Kit thought of Henry’s large and powerful body brought to perfect obedience under his hand, and his mouth went suddenly dry.
It was strangest thing. He had never craved such play before, though perhaps that was because, in his days as a whore, he’d generally been assigned the more submissive role, on account of his physical appearance. But it wasn’t 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.
Kit rubbed the pad of his forefinger through a sticky patch.
“Hmmm,” he hummed, a note of disapproval in his voice. “Messy.”
Henry’s chest heaved, and his eyes glittered, his gaze fixed on Kit.
“What shall I do with such a messy boy?” Kit wondered aloud. He smiled at Henry, letting his gaze travel all the way down his body.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Henry gasped.
Kit’s smile widened. “You do seem quite fixed on that idea,” he said. “Will you be terribly disappointed if I don’t? I’m not sure you’re really ready for that.”
Henry swallowed. “I can take it,” he said.
Kit laughed softly, and he sat on the mattress beside Henry. “Oh, I’m quite sure you can,” he said. “But you see, I’d prefer to have you begging mindlessly for my cock rather than bravely withstanding it.” He leaned over then, till their faces were very close together, and whispered in a confidential tone, “A fellow likes to think he’s wanted, you know.”
“You are wanted,” Henry breathed. “And if you want me to beg mindlessly, I can do that.”
Kit’s cock was beating an insistent pulse between his legs, and all he could do was stare at the man laid out before him. Breathlessly, he said, “Oh, Henry. You really don’t know what you’re offering.”
“I do, I—”
Kit touched his fingers to Henry’s lips, silencing him. “Will you indulge me?” he murmured. “By letting me decide what you can take tonight?”
Henry stared at him a moment longer, then he gave a jerky nod. “All right,” he said. “But know that I want this, and I want it to be you, Christopher.”
“It’s Kit.”
“What?” Henry said dazedly.
“Call me Kit.”
“Kit,” Henry breathed, his grey gaze travelling over Kit’s face as he tried to discern why this was important.
Kit leaned down till their lips grazed. “That’s right. I’m Kit—Christopher was an agreeable whore. I have not been Christopher for a very long time.”
Henry frowned at that, but he nodded his understanding, saying, “Kit,” again, his breath soft against Kit’s lips.
“Good boy,” Kit murmured. “I think that deserves a reward.”
And with that, he breached the final, infinitesimal distance between their lips, pressing his mouth fully against Henry’s for the first time in years and years.
Henry gave a grateful moan, and Kit slid his tongue deeply into his mouth, exploring briefly, slickly, before pulling back to tease his lips again with soft sucking pulls.
God, but Henry smelled good, just like he used to. A natural, masculine smell that made Kit think of leather and wood. Kit couldn’t get enough of it. He broke the kiss and dived down to nuzzle Henry’s throat, relishing Henry’s helpless moans. He felt rather than saw the movement of Henry’s arms as he tried to use them, to reach for Kit, only to be restrained by the cuffs. And yes, by God, Kit liked that. Liked knowing that he had Henry held helpless.
Kit climbed onto the bed properly then, covering Henry’s leashed body with his own, relishing the roughness of Henry’s chest hair against his smoother skin. He began travelling downwards, leaving a feverish trail of kisses in his wake, pausing briefly to suck obscenely at Henry’s nipples.
Given entirely free rein to do whatever he wanted, Kit found he wanted map every inch of Henry’s glorious body with his mouth.
Henry moaned and gasped in response to Kit’s attentions, occasionally muttering his name or pleading inarticulately. His limbs tensed under Kit’s mouth, and his cock pulsed and leaked, a thin trail of glittering fluid connecting his tip to his belly.
When Kit reached Henry’s cock, he swiped his tongue over the tip, relishing the burst of salt. He played lightly for a while, suckling the head teasingly, tickling the point of his tongue up Henry’s thick shaft, stroking Henry’s balls with soft brushes of his fingertips till Henry was almost sobbing with frustration.
When Henry gasped, “Please, Kit,” Kit lifted his head and grinned.
“Ready to play harder?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he stretched his lithe body over Henry’s to grab a small bottle from the bedside cabinet. Henry groaned again as Kit’s body rubbed his own.
Bottle in hand, Kit leaned back on his heels. He showed it to Henry. “Remember using this on me?” he teased.
He rocked the bottle from side to side, and the oil inside moved, slow and viscous.
Henry could only seem to pant. Kit grinned and moved downwards again—this time without the distraction of kisses—and settled himself comfortably between Henry’s spread thighs.
Henry was hairy down here too, and God help him, Kit liked it. Liked the way the nest of dark hair around Henry’s cock trapped his delicious scent. He kissed Henry’s inner thighs, his balls, his perineum, then dipped his tongue, just catching at Henry’s rim, making Henry gasp and Kit grin with satisfaction.
He delicately explored Henry with his lips and tongue while he deftly opened the bottle of oil, then leaned back to pour a thin stream onto Henry’s body, watching as it trickled down from his balls to his hole.
Kit caught the oil with his fingertips and anointed Henry’s hole, relishing every gasp and hiss from Henry’s lips. Slowly, he increased the pressure of his fingers, gently massaging the tight, tense muscle.
Henry’s moans were fast and rhythmic now, his hi
ps working up and down, his torso arching and twisting with pleasure. He was loving this, Kit thought wonderingly.
Kit slowly pushed one finger into Henry’s hole—it seemed to greedily suck him in—and Henry’s eyes went wide.
“Oh God,” Henry moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “More. Please, Kit, more.”
He took a second finger easily and a third without much trouble, despite the firm tension of his muscles, powerfully gripping Kit’s hand.
Soon, Kit was plunging three fingers in and out of Henry’s body, and Henry just kept begging for more.
“Give me your cock,” Henry begged. “Please, Kit. I need it.”
And suddenly, Kit couldn’t think of a single reason why he should hold back a moment longer.
He scrabbled up onto his knees and found the oil again, pouring another thin stream over his own cock this time, taking a few short but necessary moments to ready himself and line his shaft up with Henry’s body.
“Are you sure about this?” he somehow managed to grit out.
“Yes, fuck me, please,” Henry begged.
So Kit did. He pressed his cock into Henry’s body in one long, demanding thrust that made the other man cry out, then breathe hard for several long moments.
Hell, he’d gone too hard.
“Are you all right?” Kit gasped quickly, stilling.
“Yes. Just… getting used to it. Please, that was good—don’t stop.”
Thank God, Kit thought, because truthfully, he had no idea how to stop. It felt astonishingly good to be inside Henry, to thrust his cock into Henry’s big, strong body without holding back anything.
As he began to move again, he became entranced by Henry’s uninhibited response. He couldn’t believe how open the man was. Other than that initial cry, he’d shown no signs of discomfort or even embarrassment. The panting moans that fell from his lips and the flush that bloomed on his upper chest and throat made it clear he was enjoying this.
“Christ, Henry,” Kit breathed, staring at him with wonder. “You were made for this. Made for my cock.”
Henry groaned again at that, and his thighs strained up. “I want to—” he began, then stared at Kit pleadingly.
Restored (Enlightenment Book 5) Page 17
