Shades of Henry (The Flophouse Book 1)

by Amy Lane

  He flipped Mal over and sat on his chest and started to beat him. “Stop it!” Henry screamed. “Stop it! Just fucking stop it! You don’t have the fucking right! Just stop it!”

  “Henry!” Lance cried, afraid to get in his way. “Henry—you will kill him!”

  Malachi was still trying to fight, but he was getting solidly whaled on, right into the ground, and God, Lance remembered that fear, that the violence wouldn’t end, that Henry wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “Henry!” Lance screamed. “Stop it!”

  And Henry paused, looking at Malachi’s bleeding face, and sucked in a breath like a sob. “Lance?” he said, looking up.

  “Here,” Kane said softly. “Go see Lance, Henry. I’ll hold him down, okay?” And Kane hefted him bodily off Malachi, who groaned a little to prove he wasn’t unconscious, but otherwise wasn’t moving, not this time.

  Henry stumbled up and into Lance’s arms, and Lance held him tight. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, fighting for breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “You stopped,” Lance told him, closing his eyes. “You stopped. You beat him, Henry, and you stopped. It’s okay. You stopped.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Lance held him tight as they waited for the MPs, and hoped that someday, someday, Henry would realize he didn’t have to apologize for defending himself. Didn’t have to apologize for winning.

  HENRY HELD up as he spoke to the MPs, neither of whom batted an eyelash as he talked frankly of the reason he’d left the military and of Malachi’s going AWOL. Malachi could stand by that time, but he was too busy sputtering blood and venom against Henry for the MPs to so much as take his statement.

  “We’ll get him to the infirmary, but it looks like he got a pretty solid blow in. This is clearly a case of self-defense.”

  Henry nodded and held the ice pack that Dex had run out to him before going back into the house with Frances, and Lance watched helplessly as ugly black bruises bloomed on Henry’s biceps, where Malachi had shaken him. Self-defense indeed.

  “We can hold him on the AWOL charges,” the first officer, a seasoned man in his thirties named Carlson continued. “But if you can press charges for the original assault, he can do some time. That way, you can get notified if he’s released. Stalking laws are there for a reason, Mr. Worrall.”

  Henry grunted. “It’s the best we can hope for, thank you. I’ll have my lawyer file charges tomorrow.”

  Carlson tilted his head in response and then looked at his partner uncomfortably before saying, “Look, I know it’s not my place here, but good for you. This happens way too often. Male or female, everybody deserves to be safe.”

  Henry just nodded again, and Lance could see his shoulders start to hunch.

  “He’s done,” Lance said quietly. “Can we take this up tomorrow?”

  “Yup.” Carlson turned toward where Malachi was being helped inside the back of their vehicle. “He’s not going anywhere for at least another twenty-four.” He handed Henry his card. “Have your lawyer call this number.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The MPs left, and Lance wrapped his arm around Henry’s shoulders and started to guide him into the backyard, where Dex was fussing over Kane to see if maybe he’d injured a hair on the back of his hand while handling a seasoned combat veteran on their front lawn.

  They got to the gate and before Lance could open it again, Henry threw himself into Lance’s arms and wept.

  “You did so good,” Lance whispered. He remembered his fears for Henry, the violence, the suppression. “God, you did so good.”

  But Henry didn’t say anything, just shivered in his arms until he could function again. After a few long moments, he pulled back and wiped his face on his shirt, leaving a bloody streak against his shoulder. Lance yearned to take him home and tend to him.

  “We need to reassure my brother,” Henry said gruffly, “and save Carlos from all that whatever Davy is doing.” He rolled his eyes in a patent attempt to make things normal. “You’d think the guy had to make an effort or something. Jesus, what a tank.”

  Once Lance might have fought him, but now he knew better. “Yeah,” Lance said, keeping his own voice from quivering. “Try not to piss him off.”

  Henry gave a crooked smile. “You know me.”

  Lance just nodded and followed Henry into the backyard again. Henry Worrall’s heart was good—so good. But sometimes he had to find a way on his own.

  Forward Ho!

  OF COURSE, Jackson had to come into the office that morning. Wonderful. Fantastic. Henry was so pleased.

  Henry could have asked him to leave. He was talking to Ellery as a client, not an employee, but asking him to leave felt wrong, somehow. His nose throbbed, as did his lower lip, and the bruises on his arms, and his split knuckles, and these were things Jackson knew about, and Jackson would know why they were important.

  Jackson had been one of the first people to tell him he was okay. Without knowing about the rape or the abuse, Jackson had looked at Henry and told him that maybe his choices weren’t awesome, but he wasn’t a bad guy, and he had much of his life to live and live better. That had meant a lot to Henry.

  It meant enough to let Jackson in on the whole truth.

  He finished talking and looked at Ellery expectantly. Lance had offered to come in with him for this—and so had Davy, for that matter—but these two men were relationships Henry had forged on his own, and he needed them to see him for who he was without the people who made him look better.

  He’d expected to feel something—anything—when he saw Malachi Daniels again. Helplessness, rage, grief.

  He’d felt all of those things, but he’d also felt… let down. He knew such better men now. How could he not have known Malachi Daniels had never been worth his pain?

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t worry about Jackson and Ellery, his new bosses, men he’d come to admire. Would they still look at him the same?

  Well, Jackson’s wrinkled nose and arched eyebrow looked familiar, although on most days he would have been pacing the floor instead of sitting in the adjoining stuffed chair in Ellery’s opulent office.

  “What?” Henry asked defensively. “You don’t believe me?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Of course I believe you. I mean, I believe this. I believe what you’re going to give as your deposition so we can press charges. But man, I don’t believe you!”

  Henry relaxed a little. This sounded like the Jackson who would give him shit. He liked that asshole.

  “What? What’s so hard to believe?”

  “You! ‘I’m the bad guy, Jackson! I’m the bad guy!’ You almost had me fooled, you little turdwhacker. You were never the fucking bad guy, Henry Worrall. You’re a goddamned hero.”

  Henry felt heat wash over his entire body. “No one’s a hero for taking it.”

  “You’re a hero for walking away,” Jackson said soberly. “You’re a hero for pressing charges. You’re a hero for dealing with that for eleven years and still believing in the good in people. You’ll never fool me again, asshole. I know who I’m dealing with now.”

  Henry’s eyes burned. “Henry Worrall, at your service,” he said, embarrassed. “Not much to look at here, sir.”

  “Just a hero,” Jackson said softly, and this time Henry couldn’t argue.

  THAT NIGHT he waited up for Lance, which had become their ritual in the past month. Lance surprised him by getting there a little earlier with a bag full of ice cream bars, which he put in the freezer as Henry got his dinner ready.

  “Ice cream?” Henry grinned. “What’d I do to deserve that?”

  “Oh, Henry, there’s so very much you could do to deserve that.” Lance draped himself over Henry’s back then and nuzzled his neck. And then checked his healing face and his knuckles.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Henry grumbled.

  “No, but I’ve got plans for you,” Lance purred, and Henry liked that thing he was
doing behind Henry’s ear. He would like more of it.

  “Plans, I understand.” Lance’s warmth was seeping in through his bones. “There’s a caveat.”

  “We’re gonna get married,” Lance said. “I heard that last night. You think I’d forget?”

  Henry set down the lettuce wraps he was preparing and turned in Lance’s arms. “You think I’d let you?”

  “Nope. We’re going to have the full happy.” Lance’s mouth on his was sweet and soft, but it was still driving him up, up, up.

  “Really?” Wow. From full misery to full happy in a short time. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think guys like me got the full happy.”

  Lance pulled back and regarded him in all seriousness. “Guys like you should always get your full happy,” he said. “I’m just glad I’m part of it.”

  “I can’t imagine a full happy without you.” Henry closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his face into the kiss.

  Lance moved to trace Henry’s jawline with his tongue, and then whispered in his ear, “If I promise to eat later, will you wait for me naked in our bed while I shower?”

  Henry swallowed hard. It was their bed—that still excited both of them. Nobody could come walking in, nobody could misconstrue Henry’s nakedness for them when it was meant for Lance.

  Nobody could hear the things they said to each other, the way they talked.

  “You promise,” he mumbled.

  “Swear.” Lance took Henry’s earlobe between his lips and sucked, and Henry’s knees almost buckled. Oh wow. Amazing that this was an erogenous zone. All the shit he’d missed out on and having his ears played with seemed to rank high on the list.

  “You’re playing dirty,” Henry sang.

  “I want you bad,” Lance sang back, and Henry gave in.

  “World’s fastest show-er!” Henry said as Lance squeezed his package through his shorts.

  “I’ll set a record,” Lance promised, and then he was gone, practically sprinting through the little kitchenette.

  Henry put his lettuce wraps back in the fridge and ran toward the bedroom, shedding clothes when he hit the door. He’d gone swimming and showered at the gym after work—his secret places were minty fresh—and he snuggled under the new sheets with a little sigh of decadence and listened to the shower running.

  He was hard from anticipation alone.

  He stroked himself slowly, not trying to build because he didn’t want to come before Lance got out. And he felt it—something he’d thought long dead, something that Malachi had burned out of him forever with that last brutal taking.

  He felt a need to be taken.

  He reached under the pillow and grabbed the lubricant—Lance’s brand, and not some randomly placed lube that everybody shared. Lance had good taste, and the stuff that dripped on his fingers was silky and slick.

  Torn between feeling foolish and feeling sexy, he rolled onto his stomach and spread his legs, careful not to get any lube on the red-and-blue striped sheets.

  His fingers had warmed the slick up, and his first tentative touch on his rim didn’t shock him so much as made him curious. He knew this could feel good—he’d been brought off before with just fucking alone. But how would it feel with some tenderness, some stretching, some of that confident magic Lance had spread around his own asshole when he’d mounted Henry and taken him in all the way?

  Henry remembered that night, the way Lance’s whole body had shuddered, the way Henry’s cock had been everything. Henry wanted that with Lance.

  He thrust two fingers in and moaned. Oh wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, damn.

  He pulled both legs up to his chest and thrust his bottom out, the sheets falling off as he changed position.

  When Lance came out of the shower, still toweling off, Henry was naked, finger-fucking himself without shame. Lance’s surprised “oolf” was the reward he never asked for.

  “Oh my God,” Lance breathed, dropping the towel and coming to the end of the bed to run clean, damp hands over Henry’s hips and backside. “That’s so sexy.”

  Henry went to pull out his fingers, but Lance sucked hard on one cheek.

  “Ah!” He speared himself deeper and gurgled into the pillow.

  “You want that?” Lance asked, reaching in front of him to stroke his cock.

  “Yeah,” Henry breathed. “I want you there.”

  Lance let go and moved to stand nearer to Henry’s head. “See this?” he asked, stroking his erection and sighing when he got to the end. “That’s what seeing you like that did.”

  Henry opened his mouth and willingly took the end of Lance’s cock inside. He swirled his tongue once, twice, and Lance pulled out and bent over, the better to take his mouth.

  “I’m gonna fuck you so sweet, your whole body’ll feel brand-new.”

  Henry grinned. “Promise?”

  And Lance growled, which should have been hilarious, because he wasn’t a caveman, he never had been, but in two quick steps, he was behind Henry, his knees creaking in the mattress as he pulled Henry’s fingers away from his opening.

  He grabbed the lube and re-upped, and at first Henry opened his mouth to protest, but as Lance placed his cock at Henry’s entrance and thrust carefully in, Henry got the gesture for what it was.

  Care.

  This wasn’t a guy who would rip Henry from balls to taint because he wanted to fuck now. This was a guy who wanted Henry to love what they were doing as much as he did. And as Lance kept thrusting, slowly enough to bring sweat out along the small of Henry’s back, Henry was grateful for every lover, even the ones on set, who had taught Lance how to be as gentle, as careful, as he was being now.

  Because when Lance bottomed out, his pubic hair grinding into the skin of Henry’s backside, Henry shuddered and smiled.

  Glorious.

  And then Lance started to move. He started out slow, murmuring, “Let me know if this is good, okay?”

  “It’s good,” Henry told him. “So very good. Don’t stop.”

  “Mm… you’re so easy to fuck. Hang on. Going faster.”

  And he did. God, he did, faster and harder, but never out of control. And every glide of his cock inside Henry’s body brought Henry more and more pleasure, closer and closer to an unreachable peak.

  “Don’t be shy,” Lance urged. “Stroke yourself. I told you it was sexy.”

  Henry reached for his own erection and squeezed, his body so primed that one stroke was all it took. Hot and cold raced up his skin, and he lost himself in the glacial inferno of orgasm, shaking so hard he couldn’t fathom words.

  As he clenched around Lance’s cock, Lance gripped his hips hard and spasmed, crying out and collapsing over Henry’s back as his climax rushed out in a hot sticky scald.

  Again and again, and Henry fell flat, his cock still twitching in his hand as Lance continued to spurt inside him.

  Wow. Oh wow. His synapses were never going to stop firing, and Henry was so very overwhelmed, he gave a little moan, rolling to his side and shaking.

  “Sh….” Lance soothed him, running gentle hands up and down his arms, nuzzling his neck, as Henry’s entire body cut loose. Finally, Lance’s touch brought him back to earth, grounded him, and the shivering stopped.

  A few more heartbeats and he even managed words.

  “Bad news,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah?” Lance leaned over his back and kissed his cheek.

  “I think you have to get your own dinner.”

  Lance laughed softly. “No, no—I brought you ice cream. You telling me you can’t get your shit together for that?”

  “Depends. What kind?”

  “Coffee crunch.”

  “You’re playing dirty,” Henry mumbled. “Give me five more minutes.”

  “Roll over and kiss me and I’ll give you ten.”

  Well, that was worth it. Henry pulled himself out of the hazy delight of postorgasm and rolled over, kissing Lance and putting all his heart into the kiss.

  Lance took him up on it, and
the kiss went on, not building, just… just there. The two of them, their hearts in every touch, being kind together after making body magic on the bed.

  Eventually they managed to get up and make it to the kitchen in their briefs alone. Henry thought watching Lance eat lettuce wraps over the sink in his underwear was one of the most endearingly sexy things he’d ever seen.

  They began to talk over ice cream—Lance eating an Icee in company, of course—and Henry got to talk about his morning, about telling Ellery and Jackson, and later Galen, about pressing charges, and about how well his new boss had his back.

  Lance asked him if Malachi would see any jail time, and Henry sighed. “If anyone can make it happen, it’s Ellery Cramer. But life’s not perfect, and the system isn’t either. At least I know I tried.”

  “I know too,” Lance said, taking an unexpected lick of Henry’s Drumstick. “Wow. Wow, that was a mistake.” He looked mournfully at his cherry Icee. “How’s that going to measure up now?”

  Henry offered him another bit of his ice cream, and Lance took it, smiling shyly. “This is good,” Henry said, biting his lip. “We have to do this always.”

  Lance leaned in and gave him a messy kiss. “Talk about our days? Be honest about how we feel? Do things together? I think that’s how we keep this going.”

  “This is why we need to keep talking to the porn kids,” Henry said in all seriousness. “Galen told me John sent two new kids there today. We need to visit tomorrow before you go work out. These kids, they need to see what a relationship is. I don’t think some of them know.” He paused. “I didn’t.”

  Lance smiled, his eyes glinting wickedly. “The relationship they can see,” he said. “The sex….”

  “That’s all ours.” Henry finished off the ice cream cone and then kissed him again, savoring the cherry ice with his chocolate and vanilla. Lance returned the kiss, until the ice cream and the ice was all gone, and together they washed up and went back to bed, to sleep this time.