Page 86 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
And so it seemed fate really was smiling on them, as Léon and Henry made their way upstairs together, key burning a hole in Henry’s hand, Léon’s wrist brushing against Henry’s in the empty hallway. Their excitement was only compounded when they opened the door on their splendid room. One large bed, one small table with two chairs, and one chaise longue set into the recess of a window. Red carpet, thick and soft, red wallpaper, red bedspread. It was small, and it was clean, and it wasperfect.
But the second Léon reached for Henry, he got one kiss and two hands at his waist shoving him back. “Go see to the horses. I really need to wash.”
“But…” Léon looked him over frantically. He had to wait another… What? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? And Henry looked good. He looked good, just exactly like he was. His hair could be as mussed as he liked, and he hardly needed clothes. In fact, something about the idea of him straight out of the dungeon attracted Léon even more. But Henry was very firm… Just not in the way Léon wanted him to be…
Disgruntled and more than a little frustrated, Léon wandered back downstairs to request another washstand from theinnkeeper. He was both surprised and a little worried when he was offered the use of a private cabinet de toilette. This experience was going to cost him. But he was determined to make sure it was worth the investment.
After spending some time hiding the horses away, making sure they had all the water and feed necessary, he made himself as fresh and beautiful as he could manage, then made his way back upstairs.
He was rewarded a thousandfold for his patience.
He discovered Henry, resplendent in a white silk shirt that opened deep down his chest, sleeves wide and loose, a careless arrangement of the fabric about his breeches, which were tight and linen and very revealing.
Léon slammed the door in his haste. “Why did you get dressed? I’m just going to have to take that off again.”
There was food on the table, wine in a decanter, two glasses, meat and cheese, and a huge pile of butter waiting on the bedside table. But all he saw was Henry’s seductive grin. “Come get it.”
Léon dashed across the room and leapt on him, tackling him back onto the soft bed. He ripped the just-put-on shirt from his breeches and tore it over his head.
Henry was gloriously muscular, so firm all over. His chest and his nipples, his bulging pectoral muscles, and he was all man—all beautiful, glorious, sensual masculinity that Léon had always desired, but somehow, Henry was the pinnacle.
How could his shoulders be so broad and touchable? Léon leaned down and kissed over them, noting with satisfaction the fresh white handkerchief that wrapped Henry’s bullet wound.
Locking legs around Henry's thighs, Léon pressed hands into his shoulders to hold himself up, taking him in. His partner, for today only. The only one he’d ever had. The only one he wanted or would ever want.
And how could that face even exist? How could his stomach be so taut and rippling? He trailed fingers over the rise and fall of his abdominal muscles, reverent, greedy for every sight and feeling Henry could offer him. Lower, lower, his fingers undulated, until Henry surprised him by taking both Léon’s wrists and stretching them towards the bedhead, so that Léon was eased down onto his chest.
Henry sent tingles through his entire body as he ran fingertips, silken and light, down Léon flanks, cradling his ass when he got there, squeezing him, pulling his body against his own with an approving moan. He moulded a hand to the contours of Léon’s face as he kissed him.
Henry tasted so good. All Léon’s wild imaginings took him over. He wanted to do everything. Everything humanly possible, and all of it, here, today, with this bewitching man.
Henry wrenched at his sweater, and Léon sat up to take it over his head. “I don’t know how to do this,” Henry whispered. “I want you at every angle. I need to see you in every light, in every position. Why are you so beautiful?”
He pushed himself up on strong arms, and Léon’s head tilted back for his kiss on his neck. Henry’s large hand wrenched Léon’s body harder against his own, Léon’s dick straining for him. “Anything you want,” he breathed. “Anything, Henri.”
“Fuck, when you say my name like that. Christ, I adore you, Ange.”
Léon leaned down, kissing a sweep of his ear, his hair still damp from being washed, so clean and fresh and delicious, cool against his lips.
Henry’s hand savoured the sensation of Léon’s ribs, his waist, treasuring the touch of every inch of skin, making Léon feel every bit as adored as Henry said he was.
Henry pulled at the strings of his breeches and soon had a hand sliding over Léon’s dripping dick.
“Henri,” he gasped out between kisses. “Everything. I want everything. Please.”
“We have all day long,” Henry whispered. Then, with a hand on his chin and a hard kiss, he looked deep into his eyes. “You’re a very greedy boy, aren’t you?”
Léon melted, one mess of thrilled nerves as Henry tilted his chin up and licked his jaw. Léon whimpered, “I am, Henri. I’m starved.”
Henry's fingers flexed hard into his back while his hand closed around his cock through his breeches. “Then what am I going to do with you?”
“Henri,” Léon begged.
Henry gripped his waistband. “Get off the bed, and take them down for me.”
Off the bed? Away from Henry? But Henry’s eyes were hot and expectant, glazed with lust, so Léon complied. He climbed over him and off the bed, slipping his breeches down with a slightly bashful air, his blond hair falling in front of his angelic face. He looked down with a blush, brought to his cheeks by Henry’s longing gaze.
“Stay there a moment,” came Henry’s soft, charged words.
