Don't Open the Box - Part 4

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Henry opened his eyes to blink against the bright, early morning sunlight that filled his bedroom windows. The other side of the bed was not only empty, but cold.

It made sense. Richard had taken enough energy the night before that he didn’t need to return for more, at least not yet.

It was the first time Henry had awoken naturally since Richard had materialized. He should have been grateful.

He dressed quickly, and made his way down to the kitchen for breakfast. Although he made a slight detour first.

He found him in the mudroom.

“Good, you’re awake,” Richard said, but there was something in his tone that gave Henry pause.  

“Good morning,” Henry said.

“When I first made the discovery,” Richard made a motion with a hand that contained something Henry couldn’t quite see. “I wondered if last night might have been an attempt to distract me.”

Henry forced his voice to sound neutral. “Discovery?”

Richard took Henry’s hand, turned it palm side up, and pressed the object into it. Or rather, objects.

Henry’s brow wrinkled as he stared down at an assortment of little metal rings and a slightly dirty—and disturbingly damp—length of string.

“But that wouldn’t explain why you left the remains scattered, in plain sight, on the workroom floor. Unless that was meant as some sort of calling card? I know you hated them for being outdated, but unless you have some other way of protecting my feet, then—”

“Boots,” Henry released a short burst of laughter, “you’re talking about your boots.”

Richard’s expression darkened. “And that amuses you?”

Henry squelched his relief at what Richard hadn’t discovered. “Of course not, it’s just…” He had nothing to say. He had absolutely no idea what had happened to the boots. Although, it was troubling that pieces had been found, and the grommets couldn’t have been easy to remove. But it didn’t seem like anything involving the Halfling. The book had said that it ate “creeping things,” and animals, and possibly even humans. But not boots.

And if it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his responsibility to explain. He gave Richard a shrug.

Richard studied him for a moment before he sighed. “Do you at least have replacements for me?”

“I didn’t do it. So I don’t—”

Richard waved him silent. “Have you eaten?”

Henry frowned at the sudden change in subject.

“No, you haven’t been up long enough,” Richard said. He took Henry’s arm to steer him into the kitchen. “As soon as you’re done you can make a trip to the market. I’ll give you my measurements, and you can buy boots and other things for me to wear that you’re not inclined to dispose of. It is my understanding that readymade clothing, without the necessity of a fitting, can be purchased inexpensively?”

Henry nodded. He was again reminded of what it must have been like to live an entire existence in a remote manor where Whateley was the only source of outside knowledge. He wouldn’t do that to anyone, not even a sex demon, and, provided Richard was willing to at least try to look and behave like a human, he would offer to take him with him when he went places. He glanced down at Richard’s bare feet. After he got him shoes, of course.

Richard was nodding to himself. “And while you’re there you can purchase provisions for yourself. You don’t consume enough, at least, not in the way of variety. And not enough fresh ingredients, the kind that can be made into something served warm.”

At some point his incubus appeared to have been replaced with a mother hen. “And who’s going to prepare them?”

“It can’t be that difficult. We’ll figure it out.”

“We?” Henry raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to cook when you don’t even eat?” Henry’s eyes dropped to Richard’s mouth, and he added, “food.”

“You help feed me.” Richard spread his hands out before him. “I’m willing to reciprocate.”

He was overdue for a trip to the market. But it felt wrong to leave Richard alone in the house without at least warning him about the Halfling.

Although—an incubus wasn’t even on the list of things it consumed, being otherworldly and all, and Richard could retreat to his realm if he needed to. It would make more sense to take the time to find the right words. Besides, driving helped him think. It would also give Richard some time to forget about the loss of the shoes that he insisted on blaming Henry for. It was important that Richard be in a good mood when he told him, especially after he’d made that ridiculous threat about the coat brush.

Richard was still waiting for an answer.

Henry forced a grin. “Is it wise to let you handle my food when you’re still upset about your boots?”

The side of Richard’s mouth quirked upward before he forced it back down. “Are you admitting you did something to them?”

“No.”

“I thought not.” Richard moved to open the pantry, revealing the unappealing rows of mystery cans inside. “But if you prefer to continue eating the fare you’ve been—”  

“I could get breakfast in town,” Henry said.

Richard closed the pantry, nodding his approval. “I promise the house will still be intact when you return.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. “Then I’m going to hold you responsible for anything that happens while I’m gone,” Henry said, mostly in jest—even as he wished it were true.

#

Henry made the trip to town as quick as possible. He bypassed the local shops, partly because he doubted their offerings would be much of an improvement over what he already had, but also because he found them eerie. Richard’s observations that the area was unusual had only increased his apprehension. But the drive to the next town took forty-five minutes, even with the good conditions, and by the time he completed his purchases and returned it had been nearly three hours.

He parked the car in the drive, and took the first load of goods, the perishables along with Richard’s boots—so he could help him carry the rest—into the house. He passed through the entryway on his way to the kitchen, and was about to do the same with the parlor, but he only made it a single step into the room before he froze.

The furniture had been stripped of upholstery.

The packages slipped from his fingers, tumbling to the floor. Not all the furniture had been destroyed, but the smallest sofa, several chairs, and an ataman had all had their outer material removed. No care had been taken in the process, for there were gashes on the wood, and the support strings had been cut and hung limply from their frames. And there was stuffing, mounds of off-colored stuffing, strewn about the floor, the shelves, and everywhere. It hung from the sconces.

It couldn’t have been the Halfling. It only ate other creatures not—Henry closed his eyes, and muttered a curse as he made the connection. The upholstery had been made of leather. Animal hides. The same as Richard’s boots.

Henry swallowed. He glanced around the room, but he saw no sign of where was now.

It was past the point where he could hide this. He needed to tell Richard. He began to leave the room, but stopped when his foot grazed the package from the butcher shop. He looked at it and frowned. It was possible that it would attract the creature. He didn’t know how large it had become after eating the furniture, but he didn’t want to feed it anything more that would make it any worse.

He gathered up the food—and the boots to be safe—and crept into the kitchen. He set the items on the counter, and was debating whether the icebox was acceptably secure or not, when he heard a flopping, scurrying sound.

It was coming from beneath the table.

Henry’s heartbeat quickened. He took a few steps backward, his muscles vibrating and useless, as the Halfling emerged. But it didn’t so much as look at him, turning instead toward the counter, its long tongue flicking toward the package from the butcher’s shop. Fat arms scraped at the cabinets, but were unable to find purchase. Undaunted by its lack of success, it continued to scrabble against the wood.

Henry backed cautiously out of the kitchen, opposite the way he came.

He turned in the hallway, prepared to run to anywhere that wasn’t here, and crashed straight into Richard.

“What are—?” Richard was silenced by Henry’s hand as it clamped firmly over his mouth.

Henry jerked them both into the nearest closet, shutting the door behind them. Light was seeping through the gaps around the door, which meant that any sound they made wouldn’t be as muffled as he would like. But at least, in an unusual fit of luck, he’d chosen one with an escape hatch.  

He motioned for Richard to keep his voice down before removing his hand from his mouth.

Richard raised an eyebrow at him. “I take it you have a reason for doing this?” He was notably calmer than Henry would have been if their actions had been reversed.

“Have you seen it?” Henry asked.

“Seen what?”

Henry took a breath. “It’s a—you’re familiar with Whateley’s bestiaries?” At Richard’s nod—and narrowing of eyes—he continued. “It’s a—from what I can tell—a Halfling of Bokrug.”

“How did—?” Richard’s forced his suddenly raised voice into a quieter, if not friendlier, hiss. “You went into the sub-cellar.”

“I didn’t touch anything.” Henry dropped his gaze from Richard’s eyes to his shirt collar. It was significantly less censuring. “I was careful.”

“Evidently, not enough.” Richard made a motion at the door and, presumably, the Halfling in the kitchen. “Is it contained?”

“It’s—occupied.” Henry tried to create a reassuring smile, but the corners of his mouth remained unresponsive. “It’s trying to get the meat I purchased, but it can’t reach the top of the counter.”

“You ignored my warnings.”

“They were rather inadequate.” Henry didn’t allow the way Richard’s posture stiffened to dissuade him. Richard needed to understand how unreasonable the entire situation had been, regardless of how terrifying his body language was. “Considering how insane it was to have something that awful in the house. Why was it even here?”

“I told you, if you ever went into—”

“If it’s any comfort to you, I didn’t ignore your attempt at an incentive. It was already too late by then.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. Henry looked up, and from what little he could see of Richard’s face it was clear that hadn’t been a comfort after all.

“When?” Richard’s eyes were hard, and for an instant Henry forgot about the thing in the kitchen.

“The night I learned of the sub-cellar’s existence.”

Strong hands squeezed his shoulders. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I tried, but you weren’t exactly encouraging.” Henry winced at the disbelief radiating off of Richard. “You threatened to…”

“And I will.” Richard tightened his grip, and Henry shivered. “If we manage to get through this without you being eaten.”

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed shortly by a splintering sound.

“Regardless,” Henry said, “we should focus on stopping it.”

Richard closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he spoke again his voice was better restrained, although the bite hadn’t disappeared. “How large is it? It grows every time it consumes—”

“I read about that.” Henry looked away, feeling shame at yet another admission of what he’d known and chosen to keep secret. “It’s about the size of a dog now.”

Richard released Henry’s shoulders, but his hands formed into fists at his sides. “Dogs come in array of sizes.”

“A somewhat large dog?” Henry could feel the look Richard gave him without having to look up. “I don’t know. I was trying to get away from it.”

“It’s going to be harder to contain now.” Richard shook his head. “I do wish you’d told me about this sooner.”

“I thought I could take care of it by myself.”

“Foolish human pride. I will never understand—”

“That wasn’t it at all.” Henry took a breath. “I mean there was the matter of the threat, but also, by the time I realized how important it was, how important it was to you, it was—I didn’t want to let you down.”

When Richard didn’t say anything Henry risked a glance at him, but his expression was too difficult to read in the dim light.

“At least it took care of our beetle infestation,” Henry said. “And while I didn’t know it at the time, I assume it was what, um, ate your shoes.”

“Ah.” Richard’s tone had become long suffering.

Henry wasn’t certain he had the right, not when his own appearance had caused nearly as much disruption, but he didn’t say so.

“I looked through the library,” Henry said, “but I found nothing on how to get rid of it.”

“That’s because Halflings are perpetual. They can’t be killed or banished, and they will consume everything animal—bigger and bigger things as they grow.”

“I—”

“But if I can lure it back to where it was kept before, it can be contained and starved. Once it runs out of things to devour, including even the smallest of microbes, it will become dormant.”

“How can you possibly convince it to go back where it was imprisoned?”

“It’s not intelligent.” Richard paused, and gave Henry an odd, almost appraising look.

For the sake of remaining on task, Henry opted not to read into it too deeply. “Well, at least there’s that.” He gave Richard a weak, placating smile.

“We will need to take precautions. It mustn’t be allowed to leave the property.” Richard moved to open the hatch to the floor above. “Stay here while I retrieve a few items. I want to be able to open the door to the sub-cellar ahead of time.”

“Wait,” Henry said before Richard left. “The keys are under my mattress.”

There was a lengthy silence where Richard did nothing but look at him, while Henry did everything he could to look everywhere else. It was broken by a heavy cracking noise and a series of metallic clangs.

Henry’s eyes met Richard’s and they exchanged a grimace. Then Richard began his ascent to the next floor.

#

Henry was grateful when Richard returned. The wait had been all the worse for the banging and scrambling coming from the kitchen, even if the sounds did give him the benefit of telling him where the creature was.

“I need you to listen carefully,” Richard said. “I am going to use the food you purchased to lead the Halfling out the back door, and down into the cellar. Keep this door closed,” Richard lightly tapped the closet door, “until we are outside. Then—”

“You’re going to get the package from the counter? What if it catches you?”

“It won’t.” Richard held up a hand to silence his protests. “Once it’s outside I need you to follow, but don’t get too close. If anything goes wrong, if it starts to escape, or if I can’t get it into the room, I need you to open this.” Richard took a small vial from his pocket that appeared empty in the low light. “While this nullifies most ethereal beings, the most it will do to a Halfling is to temporarily incapacitate it. You will have to work quickly to drag it into its prison, and lock the door.” Richard’s voice was unusually closed off, even for how furious Henry assumed him to be. It almost seemed as if he were waiting for something. Something that required distance. Or armor.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Henry paused to examine Richard’s words. He frowned. “Will it nullify you?”

Richard’s expression had become indecipherable. “It is of greater concern that the Halfling does not gain access to a larger food supply.”

Henry opened his mouth to ask a question, but Richard hushed him.

“Like any nearby cattle ranches. Or the town.”

Henry nodded, and accepted the vial. Carefully, he slid it into his pocket.

“You will need to be as close as possible for it to work, but wait outside until you are certain it’s necessary.” Richard shifted his eyes away from Henry and toward the door. “It should only take me a few minutes in the cellar if the plan is successful.”

“I understand.” Henry watched him nod, and place his hand on the doorknob. But then he was still, seemingly indecisive.

Richard looked back, and his eyes moved over Henry’s face as if he was searching for something. Except, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t focusing only on the more revealing locations, but was slowly taking him in, giving each feature equal attention. He slid a thumb over Henry’s temple, smoothing a stray hair into place. He nodded, as if satisfied that he had accomplished whatever it was he had intended to do.

Then Richard gave him a quick, sad smile, pushed open the door, and Henry was alone.

He listened to the soft padding of Richard’s feet fade as he moved toward the kitchen. There was silence for a long moment, and Henry fought the urge to leave his hiding place. To distract himself he reached into his pocket, and ran his fingers over the vial.

There was a sliding sound, wood against wood, followed by a resounding clatter. He heard Richard running back into the hallway, and he could tell he was successful in getting the Halfling to follow him from the echoes of its limbs ambling along the floor. Henry held his breath as it passed. It moved like something that never should have been, and thus was of inadequate design. Its movements were loud and disturbing, but he was relieved that it didn’t seem to move as fast as Richard.

He waited just long enough for it to reach the outside before he followed. He moved quickly, and he stepped out into the yard just in time to hear the Halfling struggling down the cellar steps. He mumbled a quick prayer that it wouldn’t lose its footing and roll down on top of Richard.

Henry slipped the vial from his pocket. It still appeared empty even by daylight.

He wondered if “nullify” meant the same as death to a demon.

He knew what he’d heard in Richard’s voice, and seen in his eyes before he left. Giving the vial to him hadn’t been an act of trust, so much as one of necessity. He didn’t have faith in Henry to believe that he wouldn’t use it to rid himself of his demon problem, once and for all.

But to be fair, Henry had tried to kill him once.

Deep within the cellar, a door slammed shut. Henry stood perfectly still, not even breathing lest it muffle further clues.

It was just before he was about to be forced to choose between more air, and unconsciousness when there was the steady thud of footsteps on the stairs.

He sucked in a great breath, and let it out in a huff of relief. He moved forward to better see the cellar opening.

He tucked the vial back into his pocked, not wanting to drop it by mistake.

Richard appeared at the entrance, but when Henry took in his appearance his half-formed questions fell away, forgotten.

“You’re bleeding—”

Richard shook his head. “It’s not mine. It’s from the meat. The Halfling is—” Richard looked down at his blood-speckled attire with disgust, “enthusiastic when it feeds. But I believe you have your wish.”

Henry’s brow creased in confusion. “What?”

“The shirt is ruined. I will no longer look like I’m from some historical play.”

“Oh.” Henry shook his head, as if to increase blood flow, and with it, clarity. “That was only one comment, made one time.”

“There is never any doubt as to what your opinion on something is.” Richard stripped out of his shirt as he crossed the yard to the water pump.

“Well, the newer styles will suit you.” Henry was surprised to find he was smiling.

He watched as Richard worked the pump to fill the bucket, his muscles bunching and flexing in the sunlight. Richard submerged the shirt, wringing it slightly before using it to mop away the mess from his face and shoulders. A few drops of water slid down his chest, marking a trail that ended where just a few dark hairs were visible, his pants slung low on his hips. He never had been given proper braces.

It occurred to Henry that Richard probably needed to feed after what he’d been through. It wasn’t every day that he went up against some world-devouring monstrosity.

Richard moved on to his arms, and then his torso. He was remarkably thorough.

Helping him regain his strength was the least Henry could do.

Richard took a shirt from the clothes line, an old one of Henry’s, and slipped it on. 

“Now that it’s over,” Henry held out his hand, palm up but closed, toward Richard, “I imagine you’ll want this back.”

Richard stared at the revealed vial, and he didn’t even have the decency to hide his surprise.

Henry waited until the incubus recovered enough to pocket the offering, placing it out of danger of accidental crushing, and then he kissed him.

Richard made a soft sound, another expression of surprise. He returned the kiss, but it was with less insistence than Henry was used to.

Determined to rectify that, Henry stroked a hand down Richard’s side, and then forward along his hip. But before his fingers could do more than brush against their goal, Richard captured them with his own. He stepped back, putting Henry at arm’s distance.

Henry was too baffled to be offended. “Why did you stop me?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was helping you get your strength back.”

“I wouldn’t think,” Richard looked at him in a way that was not only questioning, but somewhat aggravating, “that would be in your best interest. But it would be helpful, for me at least, for when I take you to the kitchen.”

Henry’s irritation was replaced by another, less desirable emotion. “You’re not still upset about…?”

“You’re still getting spanked.”

“But everything worked out fine.” Henry reached a hand toward him, but then, uncertain of his goal, he let it drop.

Richard shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. You deserve it.”

“But we made a good team.” Henry forced a smile. “We worked well together.”

Richard’s hand closed around his upper arm, and before Henry could make a sound—or any sound other than one of surprise and dismay—he was being escorted toward the house.

“You gave me the ultimatum after it was too late to abide by it.”

“You let the Halfling run amok for days without telling me.”

“And I regret it.” Henry looked at him sideways as he was propelled into the mudroom. “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t learned.” Richard’s grip was surprisingly gently for how unyielding it was. “You still had the keys.”

Henry’s stomach flopped as Richard ushered him through the hall and into the kitchen. “I was going to put them back.”

The room was a mess. The door to the pantry was hanging from its hinges, cans, dented to varying degrees, were scattered across the floor, and the cabinets had been scarred with deep, ragged claw marks.

Richard released him, and Henry took a moment to rub his arm even though it didn’t actually hurt, the damage being primarily to his ego.

“Wait here while I get the brush.” Richard began to walk in the direction of the entry way, when it occurred to Henry what other room he would have to pass though.

“Wait, Richard, there’s something you should know.” Henry faltered when he watched his shoulders tense. “It’s about the parlor.”

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me.” Henry ignored the skeptical rise of Richard’s eyebrow. “The Halfling—“

“Which you were responsible for.”

“Went and—well, it went after whatever organic material it could find.” He reminded himself that regardless of how Richard looked at him, it was better that he found out now. “Some of the furniture was leather—”

“How badly—” Richard shook his head. “Nevermind. I’ll look myself.” He started to leave the room but then stopped. “Just the furniture?”

Henry nodded.

He could tell when Richard reached the parlor from the muffled curses that drifted through the walls. It occurred to him that maybe he should have attempted to negotiate before simply handing over the vial. Except of course, that even in the beginning, he’d never wanted to nullify anyone, not even a stubborn, fixated-on-antiquated-houses, gender-shifted, sex demon.

Especially not a stubborn, fixated-on-antiquated-houses, gender-shifted, sex demon.

He looked up when he heard footsteps returning. His eyes focused on the long brush, that had never much held his interest before, but now was impossible to ignore in its wicked, paddle-like composition.

It was in that moment that he realized he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Let’s not do this.” Henry took a step back as Richard moved forward. “I really am sorry.”

Richard didn’t reply, only strode past him to take a chair from the table, one that the Halfling had thanklessly failed to crush, and placed it the middle of the room.

“Come here,” Richard said.

Henry didn’t. He didn’t flee either, although he sorely, sorely wanted to. It was a compromise, of sorts—but not one he was likely to be appreciated for.

Richard crossed the room, closing his hand around Henry’s wrist and drew him to the chair.

“Ok, I admit—” Henry said as Richard undid the fastenings on his braces. “I likely deserve this, but—” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his pants were pushed to his ankles. “Richard, please, just—don’t.”

Richard sat down, spreading his thighs as he pressing Henry facedown over his lap.

Henry felt ridiculous. The position alone was humiliating enough to work as a deterrent. Blood rushed to his face—as if it needed any help—as he stared at the ancient floorboards. He felt the cool back of the brush press lightly against his bottom, before it was taken away again. He closed his eyes.

He heard the sound of the flat surface cracking against his flesh an instant before the pain hit. He gasped, his body jerking of its own accord. This was significantly worse than before.

“Ow!” Henry twisted until he could see Richard. “That’s—that’s too much.”

“Quiet.” Richard tightened his grip on Henry’s waist.

Henry jolted when the brush fell again.

“I think,” Henry said, and it took every bit of will he possessed to force his voice to sound calm, and rational, and to not shout about how insane this was, “that your hand would suffice. The brush is unnecessary.”

“Given what the consequences could have been, you should consider yourself fortunate.” Richard struck him again.

Henry was fairly certain that the definition of the word “fortunate” did not include being facedown over the lap of a sex demon.

He grunted as the brush found its mark. His eyes were stinging, his sight already beginning to blur.

“I can’t do this,” Henry said, barely able to register shame at the strain in his voice.

“Shh,” Richard said, but he did pause, if only to adjust their positions, arranging it so that Henry’s legs were trapped by his, and Henry’s arm was pinned behind his back.

Henry was grateful for the respite, even though he knew it foretold of worse things to come.

“We’ll get this over with,” Richard said, as if he was offering an act of mercy, and not condemning Henry to further torment. And this time when the brush fell its next stroke came immediately afterward, and then the next.

Henry had no opportunity to recover from the rapid blows as they bit into his flesh. He began to struggle, and to kick, and to beg for it to stop.

Richard kept his promise though, and it was over quickly—not that its brevity had made it any more bearable. He set the brush on the floor, and freed Henry’s arm—which was sore in its own right from how Henry had lurched against it.

Henry felt fingers begin to rub slowly along his back. It would have been soothing if he hadn’t been so upset. This was different than last time, when Richard had left him to sob into his sheets. Of course, there weren’t any sheets in the kitchen to make that an option.

He was becoming calmer, and he had retained just enough dignity to want to get up, rather than slump into a heap on the floor. Although not by much.

“Let me up.” Henry allowed Richard to help him to his feet, and to restore his clothes. He angled his body away from Richard, not wanting the demon to see his face before he could scrub away the evidence of his tears, even if it was impossible for him not to be aware of it, not with the sounds Henry had been making only moments before.

He was aware of Richard moving away. Henry needed a little longer to collect himself before he could retreat to his room—where he fully intended to sequester himself for the rest of the day.

Absently, he heard a drawer open and water running at the faucet, but he didn’t gather its meaning until warm fingers captured his chin, and a cool, wet cloth began dabbing at his eyes.

He started to pull away in embarrassment, when he caught sight of the concern on Richard’s face. He held still and let the traces of his tears be removed.

When Richard was done he set the cloth down on the counter, but he remained close enough to Henry to be nearly touching.

“You could have been eaten,” Richard scolded, but his tone was soft.

Henry tried to sound reproachful, but his voice was too thick for it to be very effective. “And where would you be without your food supply?”

“It would be difficult, with only a day or so to find another.”

Henry stiffened. “You could simply—do that?”

“I wouldn’t say simply. When Whateley passed I wasn’t able to before my energy waned, not with how isolated this house is. Although that contraption out front might change things, if I learned how to operate it.”

“Whateley had horses,” Henry said automatically, even though that wasn’t the point, and was far from what he wanted to say.

“Horses don’t like me much.” Richard tilted his head in a gesture that seemed part acceptance and part apology.

“Because you’re a—no I guess they wouldn’t.”

“So I would prefer it if you didn’t let anything happen to you.”

Henry dropped his gaze. “Because finding a replacement is too much trouble.” He didn’t look up, even when Richard slid an arm around him because he knew it was only to replenish his reserves, and he had been fooling himself to think it had been otherwise.

“And because I’d miss the one I have.”

Henry pulled back from him, his emotions too complex to sort out without distance. “You’d miss…?”

“I’ve never found a human as interesting as you before, and, I admit, I’ve grown somewhat attached.”

“Somewhat?”

“Immensely.”

Henry’s smile claimed his features without his consent, and he turned away, not ready to share it with a demon that had just thoroughly paddled him.

But Richard followed him, kissing him softly under each eye.

Henry let him do it.

“I suppose we should clean up.” Richard inclined his head toward the smashed cabinets, and further devastation in the room.

Henry shook his head. “Not yet. I want to lie down.”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to lie down with you, I’m still—after what happened—I’m not certain I could control myself.”

Henry blinked. He’d meant by himself, and to rest. But the idea of Richard being unable to restrain his urges, after all the times it had been Henry that couldn’t resist, held a definite appeal.

So he kissed him.

Richard froze, but only for a second before his arms wrapped around Henry, pulling him in tighter.

“You’re going to have to try,” Henry said, letting his breath ghost along the incubus’ ear, “to be reasonably gentle, because certain parts of me are quite sore, and it’s entirely your fault.”

“But—” Richard sucked in his breath when Henry bit the curve of his ear. “Not after—”

Henry pressed a kiss to the injured spot. It was a move he’d learned from Richard. There were a lot of moves he’d learned from Richard.

He smiled, this time willingly. “You’re not doing a good job at selling me on the cleaning.”

“Don’t you need time to recover?” Richard moved so he could see his face.

His punishment had hurt—it still hurt, and he expected it would for a while. But he didn’t want to be alone anymore, not when his emotions were so raw, and Richard’s revelation was still fresh. He wanted the closeness—the intimacy that would drive out every other thought. Not that he was going to say that.

“Come to bed with me,” Henry said, and he allowed his eyes to confirm his intent.

Richard must have understood, for he leaned forward to brush his lips against Henry’s. “If you insist.”

Henry grinned, and accepted the hand that was offered to him. “I do.”

The End

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