A Matter of When

by Eden Winters

  Seb barked a laugh. “It’s just hair. Nothing special.”

  “It is special. It’s yours.” Oh shit. When had Henri grown so sappy? At least Seb hadn’t laughed at him. He rubbed his fingers across Seb’s chest. He’d take the roughness over smooth any day.

  The more natural look suited Sebastian, making a larger-than-life man more approachable. Henri buried his face in Sebastian’s chest hair and inhaled the scent he’d noticed on the piano bench—subtle, not overpowering, and mingling with Sebastian’s own natural scent to create an enticing, masculine blend.

  He swiped at one of Seb’s nipples with his tongue. The puckered skin formed a peak before he treated the other to some attention. Next, he lapped at the skin beneath Seb’s ear and was rewarded by a chuckle. Nipping Seb’s earlobe earned him a groan. His hand on Seb’s chest sent a silent command, and Seb sat on the bed. Henri settled on the floor between his knees.

  His scant five o’clock shadow rasped against Sebastian’s inner thighs, the strands of his hair inky black against Seb’s pale skin. A squeaking bedspring when Sebastian shifted broke the silence. For the first time in nearly a month, Seb was completely quiet, no humming, no vocal drills, no groans. Time to make a change.

  Henri flattened his tongue and lapped up the underside of Seb’s cock. A gasp sounded above him. If inexperience in kissing meant inexperience in loving, Henri would make this night memorable. They lived very different lives. Sooner or later, reality would crash down and they’d be swept up in their separate worlds. Despite what he’d said at the restaurant, time and distance didn’t make for lasting friendships. He’d have to make each moment together count.

  He took one of Seb’s balls, then the other, into his mouth to gently roll them with his tongue before returning his attention to Seb’s shaft. The broad head stretched his lips. He wrapped a hand around the base, stroking the part he couldn’t lick. Seb moaned and flopped back onto the bed.

  A hand against his face slowed Henri’s movements, and he stilled, reveling in Sebastian’s panting. Yeah, someone liked this—a lot. When Sebastian relaxed, Henri started again. He slipped a hand down and stroked his own shaft. This might be as much as Sebastian would allow. No sense pushing for more and ending things before they’d properly begun.

  Seb had other ideas. He reached down, grabbed Henri beneath the arms, and pulled, scooting back until he lay completely on the bed with Henri resting on top. Seb’s saliva-slick cock rubbed Henri’s. Damn, that felt good. Seb closed his fist around them both and bucked his hips, driving their shafts together.

  Oh, yeah. Good. Really good. Sebastian’s warm breath teased Henri’s ear. “I… I want you to fuck me.”

  Oh, hell. Henri clamped his muscles down tight, fighting the urge to come. “I don’t have any supplies.” Damn the luck.

  “I have them.” Seb slid a drawer open in the bedside table and fished out lube and condoms. “Not that I use them much.”

  Not the blushing virgin he seemed like at times, then. Henri slicked his fingers and circled Sebastian’s hole. Seb’s quick flinch spoke volumes. “I’ll go slow,” Henri assured him.

  He kissed Seb again, easing a fingertip inside. Slender fingers didn’t help much against being unused to such invasion. Sebastian kept condoms and lube handy, flinched with the lightest attention, and certainly wasn’t well practiced. Yet, he met and matched Henri’s exploration, less shy now than during their first kiss.

  Seb spread his legs wide, his breath whooshing out as he relaxed. Henri pushed his fingertip past Seb’s ring, working him loose before adding a second finger. He nibbled Seb’s neck and lightly humped his thigh.

  At last Seb thrust back against Henri’s hand, sighing when Henri removed his fingers. A little fumbling got Henri covered, slicked, and ready for action, and he lined himself up with Seb’s hole. Slowly he pushed inside. Tight heat gripped him, pulling him in. Ah, damn. So fucking good. Seb’s cock dragged against Henri’s belly, leaving a trail of dampness from the leaking tip. Henri braced his weight on his arms and took a few cautious thrusts, eyes on Seb’s face.

  Seb bit his lower lip, face a mask of concentration. He breathed out deeply and gave a little smile while lifting his knees to frame Henri’s skinny body. Henri bent for a quick kiss before establishing a rhythm. His brain fuzzed out. Faster and faster he worked in and out, Seb’s hands on his hips and lower back guiding the pace. His hair formed a dark curtain, slithering over their skin.

  The bed complained. Henri ignored the squeaky cries, focusing on the “Oh, yeah,” breathy little grunts and nonwords of his lover. Sweat beaded on Henri’s brow. He stopped, fighting the urge to let go. Not yet.

  He bit at Seb’s nipples, lowering down to give Seb’s cock plenty of belly friction. They moved together slowly, languidly, until Seb’s bucking kicked the heat up a notch. Urgent thrusting gentled when Henri paused to stare down at Sebastian’s face and his kiss-swollen lips. He kissed him again while trailing his fingers down Sebastian’s arm.

  Sebastian squirmed and Henri smiled. The man was so easy to read. He angled to hit Seb’s prostate, writhing his abs against Seb’s cock.

  The familiar sizzle began in his groin, and he chased ecstasy, picking up the pace. “Ahhh…,” he exclaimed, stilling and pumping burst after burst into the condom. His internal muscles spasmed, and he stilled, pleasure washing over him with hurricane force.

  Seb rooted a hand between them, stroking himself in earnest. Henri fought valiantly with a too-sensitized cock, resuming his thrusting to push his lover over the edge. Once, twice, three times.

  Sebastian cried out, eyes scrunched tightly closed and mouth wide open. “Ah, ah, ah” turned to a jubilant “ha!”—a grimace to a grin.

  Henri slowly withdrew and flopped down beside Sebastian, issuing an invitation with wide-open arms. Seb rolled over into the embrace, both of them laughing at the sheer joy of the moment. They fell asleep, a sticky mess. For once Seb didn’t seem to mind disorder.

  If this was a pity fuck, then whose pity?

  Eleven

  “Need some help?” Henri rose on his toes to kiss the back of Seb’s neck. He’d slept like a log and awoken to an empty bed. Now to ensure hunger led Seb away and nothing more.

  Seb paused mid-flip of an egg. “Umm… isn’t there a law stating this morning is supposed to be incredibly uncomfortable as we both try to pretend last night never happened?” Maybe he expected the eggs to do flips on their own or something, as hard as he stared at the pan.

  “You want to forget it happened? I don’t.” Henri nuzzled Seb’s neck. Surely the guy couldn’t be serious. After last night?

  “Don’t you want to?” An unmistakable tension had Seb’s shoulders as tight as bowstrings.

  Mouth close enough to gust breath over Seb’s ear, Henri whispered, “No. And I should be polite here, I suppose, and say, ‘Only if you do,’ but to be honest, I don’t care if you want to pretend or not. I’m not ashamed of last night, and will try to convince you of the need for a do-over at the first opportunity.” His heart hammered as he waited for an answer.

  Seb clicked the stove off. They had their eggs for lunch.

  Seb’s fingers danced on the piano keys. He sang three words of something Italian and hit a third of the keyboard in a resounding crash. “You, you—” he sputtered, and he started the run up to his entrance again. “You’re distracting me.”

  “Hope so.” The piano hummed softly when Henri thunked the underside of the keyboard with his head. “You’ll just have to establish your priorities.” He couldn’t say a word after that: his mouth was full.

  Seb leaned back on the bench, offering a helping hand behind Henri’s head to speed him up and the other on top to cushion against more blows. The occasional odd notes sounded—played by Seb squirming against the keys.

  He gave up all pretext of singing, yet his breathy moans made the sweetest music. A lick brought forth a gasp; sucking his balls made Seb groan. And when Henri took him deep, Seb chanted “Oh,
God” in a least three languages.

  Henri would never look at a grand piano the same way again.

  “Loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo,” Henri sang from the movie theater’s stage.

  “Again.” Sebastian sat in the last row. “A bit louder.”

  Henri filled his lungs to capacity and repeated the exercise.

  “I think you’ve got it.” Seb grinned. “Now get up here and kiss me.”

  “Okay. Deep breath, relax your throat.” Sebastian conducted their morning lesson from the comfort of his bed.

  “Are we practicing or giving blowjobs?” Not that Henri would complain, mind you, having often fantasized about this very thing.

  “Henri?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is all you think about sex?”

  “Only when a hot hunk is close by.” He meant it too.

  Three days. How short the month had been. Soon Henri would pack up, reattach his trailer to the bike, and head back to… nothing. An invisible hand squeezed his heart. If only he could take Seb with him. But soon Seb would leave to tour with his company. Would he even think of Henri at all? Henri had three short days to ensure he did.

  Henri sat side by side with Sebastian at the piano, putting the finishing touches on his latest creation. He sang the first line.

  “Where have you been?”

  Sebastian silenced Henri with a restraining hand on his arm, his voice, his beautiful tenor, mimicking the melody with foreign words.

  “Dove sei?”

  Henri smiled and sang the second line. “All my life spent lonely.”

  Again, Sebastian answered in Italian. “Tutta la mia vita in solitudine.”

  “I know you’re out there.”

  “Lo so che sei là fuori da qualche parte.”

  Sebastian’s soulful rendition encouraged Henri’s own efforts, and he poured his heart and soul into, “The one I’ve waited for.”

  He played the line again on the piano for Seb’s, “La persona che aspettavo.”

  They sang the final two lines in unison, Henri swearing, “I know I’ll find you,” while Seb harmonized, “Lo so che ti troverò.”

  They ended with Henri’s, “It’s just a matter of when,” and Sebastian’s, “E’ solo una questione di tempo.”

  Beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. If only Seb would give up opera to tour with Henri….

  “We could always perform together, like Pavarotti and Friends.” The twinkle in Seb’s eyes said he was joking.

  If only.

  Henri sat on a chair by the window, glasses pulled down on his nose.

  “I love a man in glasses,” Sebastian commented from his perch on the settee. He held a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in one large paw. Henri clutched his iPad and would never admit to losing himself in the pages of The Hunger Games. Die-hard rocker gods were supposed to read die-hard rocker books, right? Yet he’d snuck a peek at Jenni’s copy of the popular young adult novel and had lost himself in Katniss Everdeen’s heroics.

  “Yeah. Well, feel privileged. You’re probably the only person outside my immediate family to see me wearing them.”

  “Ah, vain, are we?”

  Ouch! “I don’t give a damn about my appearance—I don’t have to see me.” The fight slowly leaked out of Henri. “My m… my old manager insisted I not tarnish my image by being a human with poor eyesight.” Like anything could possibly be worse than the hard-partying, hard-drinking, hotel-room-smashing hellion tabloids said he was.

  “You don’t even wear your glasses while driving?”

  “I only need glasses to read. It’s hell signing autographs without them, but I hate contacts.”

  “Keeping up appearances? You?”

  Henri shrugged. “They weren’t my rules.”

  Sebastian set his book aside, focusing totally on Henri. “You don’t strike me as a man who lives by others’ rules.”

  No. No, he wasn’t. Took him damned long enough to figure it out. Sebastian returned to reading and Henri settled back, engrossed in another’s adventures. Seb laughed out loud. For a moment Henri feared he’d somehow figured out what Henri was reading, and was poking a bit of fun. But no, his gaze traveled back and forth, back and forth, until Seb paused to turn a page. How quaint. An actual, turn-the-pages book.

  “Do you always read sci-fi, or is the humor what you read for?” Henri had read Hitchhiker’s Guide while in his teens.

  “Both. I read to de-stress. Humor, sci-fi, and fantasy take me away from the world. I can be the hero, be everything I’m not.”

  Oh, Seb would surely love The Hunger Games. That is, if Henri would ever admit to reading the story. “Reading gives me song ideas.” “You’re Beautiful When You Read” popped into Henri’s head. Nah, no one would play something so sappy but a children’s show. Hell, he’d never make the suggestion to Lucas. He might try to sell it, and the last thing Henri’s wavering reputation needed was for him to serenade a bunch of puppets. After a few minutes, he glanced up to find Seb watching him. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  A few minutes later, he caught Seb staring again. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Seb hastily returned his attention to his own book.

  Henri put aside his iPad and stalked across the floor to snatch the book from Seb’s hand. “It’s not nothing, and you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “You really want to know?” A flush swept up Seb’s face.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  “Well, as long as you remember you asked for it.”

  “What?”

  “You’re beautiful when you read.”

  Oh hell. Now Henri would never get the song out of his head. Seb must pay. “Just for that….” Henri cast the book aside and dug his fingers into Sebastian’s ribs.

  Sebastian guffawed. “Stop! Stop! I’m ticklish!” He jerked this way and that, but Henri was faster. Seb grabbed Henri’s hands, rolling into a ball on the floor to protect his ticklish belly. Henri followed him down.

  “Two can play that game.” Sebastian traded defense for offense, pinning Henri beneath him. He gouged Henri’s sides with his fingers. Henri didn’t flinch. “No fair! You’re not ticklish!”

  “Never said I was.”

  Their eyes met. All humor fled Sebastian’s face. Hovering above Henri, inches separating their lips, in slow motion Sebastian descended, touching, pulling away, then returning to delve deeper.

  Their tongues entwined in a slow waltz. The waltz deepened into a tango. Sebastian braced his hands on either side of Henri’s head. His lips were soft, his kisses filled with the same passion he put into his singing.

  He rolled to his side, taking Henri with him and freeing his hands to slide under Henri’s shirt. Fingertips against Henri’s nipples, Sebastian blazed a trail over Henri’s neck with his tongue.

  A little fumbling and Henri managed to get Sebastian’s pants open and wriggle his hand inside.

  He wrapped his legs around Sebastian’s thigh. Supplies were upstairs and damn if Henri intended to stop long enough to go get them. Good, so good. Slickness formed on his palm from Sebastian’s leaking cock.

  Sebastian’s breath came out in little pants. Thrilling tingles started deep inside Henri. Holy hell! He was gonna blow in his pants like some horny teenager. And he didn’t fucking care. He kissed Sebastian with all his might, driving his denim-covered cock against Seb’s thigh.

  Seb’s mouth muffled his whimpers and Henri let go, ramming hard one more time and then stilling, his cock pulsing again and again. His hand slipped more easily over Sebastian’s flesh, a moan of completion joining Henri’s throaty groan.

  Every muscle in Henri’s body seized and relaxed. His forehead smacked against Sebastian’s, and he laughed. When was the last time he’d let go? Played with a lover? Taken such joy from a hand job… well, a hand job for Sebastian, not even a hand job for Henri. And he’d loved every single minute.

  “Why are you laughing
?” Seb asked.

  Henri planted a kiss on his lover’s nose. “Because I’m happy.”

  Sebastian studied him for a minute, his concerned frown melting into something more resembling acceptance. He held Henri close. Henri sucked up affection like a sponge. Who knew when he might find it again?

  “What’s going on?” Henri stood in the doorway, watching a whirling dervish of an opera singer dusting a bookcase he’d already dusted four times.

  In a near panic, Sebastian paused long enough to blurt, “I’ve neglected my housekeeping.”

  “Seb, calm down. The place is spotless.” Henri took the duster and laid it aside. Seb’s excuse to put distance between them wouldn’t fool anyone. Tomorrow Henri had to go. “Spend the day with me. Tonight, I’ll help you get the place in order.”

  “What do you want to do?” A wrinkle appeared between Seb’s brows.

  Henri wanted to kiss the worry line smooth again. “Let’s go riding.”

  The most gorgeous of days waited outside, bright blue skies punctuated here and there by puffy clouds. Henri helped Sebastian bundle up, as he insisted on. “If I catch a cold, you have to stay here and nurse me back to health.”

  “If you catch a cold, I’ll spoon-feed you chicken noodle soup.” Like Henri’s mother had done, many years ago before fame and wealth tore them apart. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past.

  Seb faked a cough. They both laughed.

  “You just want to get me into bed.”

  Seb’s beautiful smile gave the summer sunshine a bit of competition. “Anything wrong with that?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Seb no longer clung when they rode together, though he kept his hands on Henri’s waist. Down the winding curves they rode, curves Henri had avoided at first. Seb leaned left and right, keeping pace with Henri, his laughter ringing in Henri’s ear.

  How could he leave here? He’d felt more at home in Sebastian’s old house than in his marvel of glass and marble back in LA. And certainly more so than at the parental home he vowed never to set foot in again.