Beloved: A Henry Dawncraft Novel |boyxboy| Sequel to Lover for Pay

XXXIII - Thanks

Henry resisted the urge to swear aloud every two seconds. He was seated at the dining room table, head resting back as Daniel straddled him there. He gritted his teeth before his mouth fell open, eyes opening to the white ceiling as he tried to breathe out regularly. "Fuck," he let out anyways, hands unconsciously squeezing Daniel's waist and he finally met his husband's eyes. "You can't be a little gentler?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to resist his own laugh. He was currently sitting on Henry's lap as he sutured the gash left against him closed. He'd already closed the deep abrasion on Henry's arm and only needed a little more to go. "Jeez," Daniel said, "You said you couldn't even feel this last night and now you're crying about it? Just a few more, alright? Don't start fidgeting, now."

"Yeah, last night—," Henry held his breath for a moment as the needle threaded through his skin, "I was running on adrenaline. Today, I'm back to my sensitive self."

"Sensitive," Daniel chuckled, and when the last suture was finally made, he brought himself off his husband's lap and stored away all their personal medical supplies. He tucked it all in a cabinet beside the pantry before nearing Henry again.

As the other boy stood and looked down on the wound, Daniel carefully wrapped his arms around Henry from behind, his palms smoothing up the show of evident abs rippled against his fingertips. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled Henry's scent, taking in the mere warmth of his skin. To himself, he thought, I wish I could've seen it; what Henry must've looked like during his time underneath The Black Sheep.

From the remembrance of what his hands alone had looked like, just about covered in blood, and even now, the back of his knuckles were reddened and mildly bruised. Anyone who got a glimpse of them could tell what kind of force had been put behind Henry's knuckles, and Daniel was a little disappointed he hadn't been able to see.

He was sure it was a sight to behold.

The majority of fights Henry had ever been in (at least since they'd met), he'd been able to see them, how the boy he'd admired first and loved later came to his rescue time and time again, seeming to rid the world of his tormentors without batting an eye. And he'd always looked good doing it.

Keeping his mouth shut since he didn't quite want to talk about the incident anyways, Daniel pressed a kiss to the back of his husband's shoulder. He smiled then and Henry turned to face him. A quiet smile passed between them, and as a mutual plea went noticed between them as well, they leaned into each other's kisses. When Daniel felt as an embrace closed softly around him, he let his mouth come open, tongue savoring the caress of Henry's as it swanned over his. He nearly lost himself in the overwhelming happiness of knowing when he opened his eyes he would see Henry before him, that these hands that placed themselves upon his body belonged to the only person he ever wanted touching him.

"Henry," Daniel let out, but when the whine of Dimitri sounded faintly behind them, he smiled against the other boy's lips and stepped around him.

As Daniel tended to the writhing baby, Henry carefully worked himself into the shirt on the dining table. He hoped the ibuprofen would work its wonders already, but also couldn't complain much. If anything, he knew he was in a far better condition than he'd left that sonofabitch in last night, and he was proud of himself for at least that.

He looked down at his knuckles then and flexed them into fists. They were so tender and he could still imagine how they'd felt connecting with each hit. His vision truly had been red and the surge of malice that'd taken over was still working its way out of him. At the forefront of his mind, he could still see how Otto's nose shifted from a break, two of his top teeth burst from his mouth, upper and lower lips split, and feel how the bone of his cheeks became brittle. If there was anything that could be said about that bastard's condition, it would be that he should be downright unrecognizable wherever he was. And it still wasn't enough...