Henry's End Read online

  With lips next to Henry’s ear, his voice was little more than a growl. “Is that what you want? Little boys? Little boys that will never satisfy you? Is that what you want?” His sizable cock pressed harder against Henry’s ass. With his free hand, the man reached around to the front of Henry’s bike shorts and found exactly what he was looking for – a hard, excited cock. Giving it a squeeze through the slippery material of his bike shorts, Henry hardened immediately to the man’s touch. Continuing to fondle him through the thin fabric, while simultaneously pressing him from behind, the Marine hissed into Henry’s ear, “I asked you a question.”

  Brain cells blown away by the physical assault both front and rear, for the life of him, Henry could not remember the man’s question and answered by pressing his junk harder into the guy’s hand, needing to feel possessed by his grasp. He did not disappoint Henry as he squeezed his balls tighter.

  “You still want little boys?” he growled, his arm tightening around Henry’s neck.

  The moment Henry felt the crook of his arm squeeze his neck, he began to pump himself into the man’s hand, “No. I don’t want little boys.”

  “Then what is it you want?” The man had Henry by his cock and was pressing him firmly against his own hard-on, grinding harshly against his ass.

  “I want you.”

  “Good. And I don’t want you dancing with those boys. Do you understand that?”

  Henry nodded his head, yes.

  With his hand firmly encasing Henry’s privates, the Marine pressed the smaller man against him and continued to let Henry feel the pressure of his cock against his ass.

  Henry leaned his weight back into him, eyes closed. There was nothing in the world except the guy’s hand kneading and pressing his balls. He wanted to stay in the moment forever. Submit to whatever the man wanted from him.

  And then he was gone. Leaving Henry against the wall with a raging hard-on and a need to feel the Marine’s hands and cock again, hear his voice, low and raspy, in his ear. Without removing an article of clothing or coming, he had never had a sexual experience that excited him as much, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would always remember the sublime feeling of being restrained by this man.

  He wanted more.

  When he exited the bathroom, the Husky-eyed Marine was nowhere to be found, and a breathless Henry staggered into the daylight and embarked on a stunned bike ride home.

  “It was the hottest thing ever,” he confessed to Edwin, in a hushed tone, three nights later at the laundry. Helping to fold before going out on his nightly delivery run, “He had me immobilized and I could feel every inch of his big, beautiful cock.”

  “You don’t know if it’s beautiful. The damn thing could be covered with warts,” Edwin snarked, with a dismissive wave.

  “Or sores,” a nearby worker piped in and was met with a chorus of “ewwww”.

  “I had warts,” Edwin confessed, as if he were letting the world in on an Earth-shattering secret. “I did,” he looked at them all seriously. “I had to be circumcised at forty-three. I’m serious. It was the most painful thing in the world. And no one threw me a Bris. I didn’t get any presents. Not a single one. But let me tell you, those bandages made me look like I had the hugest package. I’ve never gotten cruised so much in my life. It was fabulous,” he reminisced.

  “So why did it take you three days to tell me this?” Edwin finally asked, as he loaded sheets and towels into a plastic bag and labeled them.

  “I don’t know,” Henry shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve been processing what happened. Trying to make sense of it.”

  “Sister, lust never makes sense,” the older man advised.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” another worker chimed in.

  With his laundry parcels in panniers on either side of his bike, Henry cycled off for his evening’s deliveries.

  His last delivery of the night was Stephen, a former fabric designer. “They misdiagnosed me for nine months,” he confided in Henry, “telling me that it was an ingrown hair, then a mole with an ingrown hair, and then would you believe it, an infected spider bite.” The black lesion on his leg had grown to the size of a half dollar and his once handsome face was marred by at least a half dozen of the irregularly-shaped black spots.

  “Is there anything more that I can do for you? Pick up groceries?” Henry realized that Stephen and the other clients were probably venturing into public less and less, when in fact, they needed the interaction and support of community more than ever. “Please tell me what can I do?”

  “I was just going to sit down and watch Beverly Hills 90210, my secret guilty pleasure.” He smiled with a shrug.

  Stephen had been his last drop off of the night, “I’d love to join you.” Henry sat down on the couch next to him and settled in for the hour, watching Dylan and Brandon and Brenda and Kelly and a handful of other characters he didn’t know. As the hour progressed, Stephen explained the doomed love affairs and other trials and tribulations of the teens in a zip code to their north. Beverly Hills 90210 would become a weekly ritual and a favorite show with Henry and Stephen, always at odds over who was the hotter character, Dylan or Brandon.

  Thursday night was the first night that week since “Marine Sunday”, as it was now officially known, that Henry wasn’t on the schedule for the laundry. Arriving home from work, he showered and changed out of his suit into khakis and a tight V-necked black tee.

  Every cell in his body was on high alert as he descended the stairs into The Hole. Immediately taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a beer and struck up a conversation with Ryan, the shirtless bartender he had met on Sunday. Henry longed to ask him about the Marine – Did he know who he was? Was he a regular? Did he always come alone? And more importantly, did he leave alone? Henry was dying to see him again. Feel him again.

  His concentration was shit at work, picturing the Marine around every corner. He’d been jacking off twice a day in the shower, just thinking about their encounter and what the Marine’s hand felt like massaging his cock through his bike shorts. At night, he’d grind himself into the sheets trying to remember the pressure with which he’d held him against the cold metal of the stall, metal as hard as the cock pressing against his ass had been. He knew his thoughts were becoming obsessive, but he couldn’t get what had transpired out of his mind.

  Nursing his second beer, there was no sight of the Marine and he kept his conversations brief with the men who approached him, knowing the Marine wouldn’t want him talking to them. After his third beer, he called it a night.

  The next day, after a branch sales meeting up in Orange County, Henry joined his colleagues for dinner and drinks. Laughing and hanging out with the people he’d known for the last five years was the best medicine for getting his mind off his obsessive thoughts of the man with the Husky-blue eyes. As he drove toward San Diego, he promised himself he’d go straight home, get a good night’s sleep and get out early for a bike ride, but as he headed down I-5, he was powerless to stop himself from getting off and heading east toward Portal Loma instead of west toward his apartment.

  Still in his suit and tie from work, the charcoal suit accentuated his long, lean stature and classic bone structure. With his wave of ginger hair and intense blue eyes, every head he passed turned to cruise him and he walked a little taller and with more swag than he usually did.

  Ryan was at the bar and handed a smiling Henry a beer, “Wow, you clean up really nice. I thought you looked damn hot when you came in Sunday in your bike shorts and gloves, hiding behind those sunglasses, but this – wow! You’re getting me hard, bro.”

  Laughing, “Well, tonight might be the night to buy you a shot,” Henry flirted back.

  Setting up two glasses on the bar, “Buyer’s choice.”

  Henry thought for a second, “Let’s make it simple. Jack.”

  “Jack, it is.” Ryan filled the two glasses.

  With eyes meeting in a smile, the two clinked shot glasses and threw back t
he Jack.

  Slamming them simultaneously on the bar with a laugh, Ryan picked up the bottle of Jack and refilled the shot glasses.

  An hour and three beers later, still no Marine. Henry longed to venture out onto the center of the dance floor, tie loosened and just let it go. Let go of the work pressure, let go of the sadness in seeing members of the community devastated by HIV, let go of the sexual tension building in him, every single day, brought on by this elusive man who he was beginning to think was merely a fantasy he’d created, fueled by a mini-pitcher of Tokyo Tea and the hot sun.

  Climbing the steps out of The Hole, Henry swore he would give it until Sunday and then stop his obsession cold turkey. He’d met him on a Sunday and maybe that was his day off, he reasoned. So Sunday was it. If the Marine no-showed on Sunday, that was it, he was going to dance with whomever the fuck he wanted, and he was going to pick the cutest military boy in the place and suck his cock. No more waiting for Mr. I-Don’t-Want-You-To-Dance-With-Them.

  Henry was deeply ensconced in his own head, making resolutions about moving on, not paying attention to his surroundings, or seeing the man, as he approached his car. He was leaning against the hood, his thick muscled arms folded across his chest. Calm, cool, collected, in charge and so damn freaking handsome.

  “Your place?” was all he said.

  Henry felt the sharp stab in his heart as his adrenal glands shot a release of hormones into his blood stream. Shaking his head no, he was shocked at how cool and calm his voice sounded, when he was anything but, “No. I don’t think so. You haven’t even bought me a drink yet.”

  Walking around the big Marine to the driver’s side, Henry hit the remote, unlocking the door.

  With a palm to the solar plexus to stop him, “Where are you going?” the Marine asked.

  “Home,” Henry was very matter-of-fact.

  “I thought you wanted me to buy you a drink?”

  Stepping around the Marine, Henry opened the door to his black BMW and got in. “I do…” and he closed the door and started the engine.

  Rolling down the window, he added with a smile, “… on Sunday.” Gunning the Beamer’s engine, he left the Marine in the dusty parking lot with a smile on his handsome face.

  Well played, Henry congratulated himself. Let him ache for me as much as I’ve been aching for him.

  “You did what?” Edwin gasped over Sunday morning breakfast, fanning himself. “That was such a hot move. You are a man after my heart, my little protégé. That was just brilliant.”

  Henry chuckled and took another sip of his coffee, “I swear I don’t know where it came from. It was like my alter ego took over. You know this man gets what he wants, when he wants it. And I just wanted to give him a run for his money.”

  “He’s had a chub since Friday night thinking about what he wants to do to you. Are you nervous?” Edwin raised his brows.

  Holding out a shaking hand, “I don’t know how I’m going to drive down there. My knees are shaking. I knew I couldn’t cycle it, but I kind of wish I had, just to get rid of this nervous energy.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Edwin pulled out his pack of Galoises and lit one, “Oh to be young again. Promise me details. I am living vicariously through your twenty-something year old cock.”

  Henry wasn’t surprised the Marine was nowhere in sight when he descended the steep wooden staircase leading to The Hole’s patio. With every cell in his body humming on an elevated frequency, he wanted to jump out of his skin, feel the Marine’s hands on him, his body crushed up against his. Walking over to the bar, Ryan greeted him with a warm smile and a shot of Jack.

  “I definitely need this,” Henry was shaking his head knowingly.

  “Hard day?” Ryan awaited his response.

  “No, but I’m hoping it gets hard soon,” and he gazed around the darkened inside space.

  “Looking for someone to take on that task?” Ryan poured a second shot for Henry and a first one for himself.

  Clinking glasses, they simultaneously threw back the shots, “We’ll see if he shows.” Henry’s expression was dubious. Leaning across the bar and talking in a hushed tone, “I can’t get this guy off my mind. I will be seriously bummed if he no-shows.”

  With his face just inches from Henry’s, eyes locked, “Whoever he is, he’d be an ass to stand you up.”

  Henry laughed, “You are so good for my ego.”

  And out of nowhere, descending like an eagle whose position was being poached by foreign interlopers, the Marine was there, slinging an arm quickly and casually over Henry’s shoulder, staking his claim. Except there was nothing casual in his smooth and swift assertion. He was letting Ryan know, in no uncertain terms, “Back off, dude.” Henry was his.

  Straightening up, Ryan didn’t skip a beat as he slapped another shot glass on the bar and poured a drink for the three of them. Lifting his glass, he said to the Marine, “We haven’t met yet, I’m Ryan.”

  “Cody,” the Husky-eyed Marine clinked glasses with both men.

  A name. I have a name. Cody, thought Henry. Feeling like he had the upper hand for the first time, as the guy didn’t know his name.

  His victory was short-lived.

  Tightening his hold on Henry’s shoulder and pulling him closer, “Henry, I didn’t know if you were biking or taking the car today.”

  Henry stiffened against him. How the fuck does he know my name?

  There was a smile in Cody’s eyes, a dangerous smile, which made Henry feel as if his knees were going to buckle. The Marine was now asserting his dominance over Henry emotionally. Last week it had been physical dominance. The few brain cells that were still correctly synapsing screamed, “Run,” but Henry just searched the man’s mirth-filled eyes.

  Cody signed his claim by leaning forward and placing a rough kiss on Henry’s lips.

  I’m so fucked. Literally. Henry knew he was so far over his head with the handsome Marine that he was rendered speechless. And powerless.

  Clearly enjoying his effect, Cody grabbed Henry’s hand, “Excuse us,” he said to Ryan, “I still owe Henry a dance from last Sunday.”

  Pulling him over his stumbling feet out onto the patio, Cody insinuated them into the throbbing, tightly-packed, crowd-filling–every-inch small dance floor. Although not a slow dance, the Marine pulled Henry against his muscular frame, hands sliding around to Henry’s ass, pressing their pelvises together. Cody’s large hands roughly kneaded Henry’s rear, pressing him firmly into his ever-hardening cock.

  The soft, full lips against Henry’s ear were the pièce de résistance. “I told you that you don’t want to dance with little boys.”

  Speechless, Henry nodded.

  “You only dance with me. Is that clear?”

  Continuing to nod, Henry found both his voice and his smile. “Are you always this bossy?”

  And for the first time, Henry heard Cody genuinely laugh, an irresistible dimple claiming his right cheek. “I guess I am.”

  “Tell me about you,” Henry searched his impossibly blue eyes, marveling that they turned almost pure white around the pupil.

  “What do you want to know?” Cody’s hips were grinding into him, their cocks rubbing through their clothes.

  “Everything. Where are you from?” Henry had detected a southern drawl.

  Cody’s eyes shone, “Calhoun, Georgia.”

  “Ah, a southern gentleman.” It was hard to speak with a long, hard cock rubbing slowly against his own. “An officer and a gentleman?” Henry questioned.

  Throwing his head back with laughter, “Don’t ever expect me to be a gentle man with you.”

  Trying to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he inserted the key into the lock, Henry leaned his shoulder against the door to steady himself. Feeling Cody’s heat so close behind him, he could not remember wanting someone so much since he was a little boy. Since Jimmy. The anticipation was reaching a fevered pitch and he could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention for
the military man.

  “How’d you know my name?” Turning to him, a perplexed look on his face, it had been on his mind since they were at The Hole.

  With a cocky smile, he laughed. “DMV contacts.”

  Handing him a cold beer, they clinked bottles and each took a long swig. Setting his bottle on a coaster, Cody pulled Henry against him so that he could feel his hardness through his pants.

  “I’ve been like this since you told me no the other night.” He ground himself into Henry’s hardening groin.

  “You’re not used to being told no, are you?” Henry was becoming amused.

  Shaking his head, “No one tells me no. No one.”

  Sliding a hand between them so that he could run his fingers down Cody’s impressive bulge, giving it a slight tug as he reached the down-facing head. “Don’t like having your chain yanked?”

  “You are very surprising,” Cody laughed. “Most people I deal with would be afraid to do that. I’m used to people being afraid of me.”

  With a hand still caressing the head of Cody’s cock through his worn jeans, “Should I be?”

  Cody’s eyes were locked onto his and the slight, barely imperceptible nod of his head made Henry gasp. Turned on by the reaction, he placed a hand behind Henry’s head and pulled it to him, crushing his lips into Henry’s and claiming his mouth with a greedy and adventurous tongue.

  With a hand on either side of Henry’s face, Cody continued to pillage his mouth and then suddenly pulled away, letting his lips graze Henry’s cheek to his ear.

  “Yes, you should be. Now get on your knees.” He pushed Henry firmly from the shoulders downward toward the rug. They had already shared latest blood test results, the new gay ritual as prevalent as exchanging business cards at a networking lunch, and now Cody was done letting Henry have any power.