Eleven
“Need somehelp?” Henri rose on his toes to kiss the back of Seb’s neck. He’d slept like a log and awoken to an empty bed. Now to ensure hunger led Seb away and nothing more.
Seb paused mid-flip of an egg. “Umm… isn’t there a law stating this morning is supposed to be incredibly uncomfortable as we both try to pretend last night never happened?” Maybe he expected the eggs to do flips on their own or something, as hard as he stared at the pan.
“You want to forget it happened? I don’t.” Henri nuzzled Seb’s neck. Surely the guy couldn’t be serious. After last night?
“Don’t you want to?” An unmistakable tension had Seb’s shoulders as tight as bowstrings.
Mouth close enough to gust breath over Seb’s ear, Henri whispered, “No. And I should be polite here, I suppose, and say, ‘Only if you do,’ but to be honest, I don’t care if you want to pretend or not. I’m not ashamed of last night, and will try to convince you of the need for a do-over at the first opportunity.” His heart hammered as he waited for an answer.
Seb clicked the stove off. They had their eggs for lunch.
* * *
Seb’s fingersdanced on the piano keys. He sang three words of something Italian and hit a third of the keyboard in a resounding crash. “You, you—” he sputtered, and he started the run up to his entrance again. “You’re distracting me.”
“Hope so.” The piano hummed softly when Henri thunked the underside of the keyboard with his head. “You’ll just have to establish your priorities.” He couldn’t say a word after that: his mouth was full.
Seb leaned back on the bench, offering a helping hand behind Henri’s head to speed him up and the other on top to cushion against more blows. The occasional odd notes sounded—played by Seb squirming against the keys.
He gave up all pretext of singing, yet his breathy moans made the sweetest music. A lick brought forth a gasp; sucking his balls made Seb groan. And when Henri took him deep, Seb chanted “Oh, God” in a least three languages.
Henri would never look at a grand piano the same way again.
* * *
“Loo, loo,loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo,” Henri sang from the movie theater’s stage.
“Again.” Sebastian sat in the last row. “A bit louder.”
Henri filled his lungs to capacity and repeated the exercise.
“I think you’ve got it.” Seb grinned. “Now get up here and kiss me.”
* * *
“Okay. Deepbreath, relax your throat.” Sebastian conducted their morning lesson from the comfort of his bed.
“Are we practicing or giving blowjobs?” Not that Henri would complain, mind you, having often fantasized about this very thing.
“Henri?”
“Yes?”
“Is all you think about sex?”
“Only when a hot hunk is close by.” He meant it too.
Three days. How short the month had been. Soon Henri would pack up, reattach his trailer to the bike, and head back to… nothing. An invisible hand squeezed his heart. If only he could take Seb with him. But soon Seb would leave to tour with his company. Would he even think of Henri at all? Henri had three short days to ensure he did.
* * *
Henri satside by side with Sebastian at the piano, putting the finishing touches on his latest creation. He sang the first line.
“Where have you been?”
Sebastian silenced Henri with a restraining hand on his arm, his voice, his beautiful tenor, mimicking the melody with foreign words.
