Page 77 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
Léon lowered a hand to Henry’s dick, urgently hard for him. It had been an agony for Henry the last time, desperate to come as Léon blew his load in his mouth, but that had been about Léon. Just as this was now, yet he pushed greedily into Léon’s hand, and Léon looked him in the eyes and whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”
“I can’t,” Henry whispered. “Not here.”
“Please…” Léon stroked him so sensuously, so hotly, and his skin beneath Henry’s hands was so soft, his hair was so beautiful, his cheekbones and his lips and the way he begged,and it was tempting. So tempting to push into him, let him feel the pain and the pleasure he was begging for, bite down on his neck to ease it as he ravished him. The thought of how good and hot he’d feel sent a welcome shiver down Henry’s spine.
“No,” Henry forced out. He ground forward into Léon’s palm. “Somewhere better than this.”
“Please fuck me, Henri.” And his lips were so pink, his delicate eyelashes quivering, and it took everything in Henry to not comply with his desperate wish. He grabbed Léon’s dick and brought it flush against his own, working the two of them together, covering Léon’s hand with his hand, and fucking up against him. He threaded fingers through Léon’s hair, gripping, holding him there, and Léon leaned his head back against the pull, silently asking for more.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Henry rasped.
A sigh racked out of Léon’s open mouth, his eyes shut, heavenly against the blanket of ivy.
“And you’re mine now.” Léon’s gaze found his, and Henry thrust their two cocks into his hand, his breath coming faster with the pleasure of it. “I will fuck you when I’m good and ready.” He bit Léon’s neck, pulling a cry from him—a yielding, turned-on cry that shot Léon’s hips forward, and Henry knew exactly what Léon needed. “I am going to fuck you. I am going to wreck you, pretty boy.”
Another soft moan as a flush of ecstasy swept Léon’s brain, rolling his eyes back. “You can do anything you want with me, Henri.”
“And when I do, you’ll never let another man touch you again. It’s you and me, Léon. From here on out. You’re mine. All mine.”
He clamped a fist into Léon’s hair and kissed him passionately, holding the breath in his mouth, suffocating the pleasured gasps that wanted to break free, making him storeit all up until he could have his way with him in full, when he would devour every sign of rapture from this man he’d come to adore. All the more now, becausefuck, he was almost irresistible. But when he got him into a bed…
He fucked harder into their hands at the very thought of it, and Léon fucked into his, and Léon whimpered, “Tell me again, Henri.”
“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful man alive. And I’ll never let you go. And I’ll never let you down.” The orgasm catching him at the throat, he ground over the words, “You will stay with me forever,” and he spilled, hot, all over Léon’s stomach, wrenching a gasp from Léon, ribbons of his own cum spurting through Henry’s fingers as he licked Léon’s neck, kissed his earlobe, drank him in, eyes rapt, all through his orgasm.
Henry kissed him again, but didn’t let Léon sink back into his frantic and depressed state. He reached for the prison shirt, and it felt good to smear it in their cum, here in this out of the way cottage in the middle of nowhere. It felt good to have Léon here with him now—to know that it was all for Henry—and no matter how much it all frightened Léon, his words and his deeds hung around Henry’s heart like a medal of honour.
He lay down beside Léon, possibly slightly deliberately flexing the muscles of his left arm when he saw Léon’s eyes drag over it. Léon lunged forward and kissed him. There was an animal sexuality to him that Henry found himself entranced by. Léon naked, not just physically, but now with no guards and no barriers, and Léon whispering at his lips, “I hated you. I hated you so much.” He kissed him. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He kissed him again. “I would have murdered you if I’d had the chance.”
A little trepidatiously, Henry asked, between kisses, “And how are you feeling now?”
“Sick,” said Léon. He broke the embrace and fell back, but he did it with an arm around Henry’s neck that bade him fall down on his chest. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Okay,” Henry mumbled. “Not quite the answer I was looking for.”
A brief silence fell as they each caught their breath, then with eyes on the ceiling, Léon said, “I don’t know if you know, but I’m not allowed inside the Cathedral.”
Henry tilted his head up. “Reims Cathedral?”
“Any cathedral. But you know, Reims Cathedral is so beautiful. I’ve looked through the door. I’ve always wanted to go inside. It looks… spectacular. Like a miracle.”
“I don’t understand,” Henry said. “Why can’t you go in?”
“Because I’m an executioner.” He said it like Henry was being a little thick, and perhaps he was, though the notion struck Henry as so ridiculous it was hard to believe.
“Wait… The city that employs you to kill people… won’t let you pray in a cathedral because you kill people? For the city?”
“Yeah.” Léon licked his lips. “It’s part of the deal. Even before I did that, I couldn’t go in, because of my father.”
Henry sat up a little. “You’ve never once set foot inside a church?”
Léon yanked him back down to his chest. “No. But that wasn’t the point of my story.”
Henry settled a little deeper against him, which wasn’t hard to do. “Sorry.”
“This one time, they were cleaning it. The whole thing. And they had scaffolding all over the place. Ladders, paths of wooden beams so high up, all the way to the top. And one night, Souveraine and I decided to climb it.” A soft smile came across his face at the memory. “We were fifteen. It was probably stupid. We had no ropes to attach us to anything, but we did it. Right before dawn, we snuck out and climbed and climbed all theway to the top. And it was magnificent. It was so steep, it was terrifying, but it was beautiful. And when the sun came up, and all the city turned pink below me, I could see the hills in the distance over the forest and I could see…”
Henry felt Léon’s fingers running through his hair a little tighter as he played with the strands, calming the strong emotions that rose to the fore.
