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Second Love

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James felt Henry’s weight pressing down on him, pushing him into the bed. He held onto the doctor’s smooth back as they kissed, and Henry’s firm, muscular chest rubbed against his own. He hadn’t been naked with a man since William, since he lived in London. Even then, they’d had to be quick, and quiet. Here, now, James felt like he could finally let go. He tangled his tongue with Henry’s and Henry reached down to unbutton his trousers.

“You have done this before?” Henry spoke softly into his ear, then kissed his neck.

“Yes. Do I seem that inexperienced?”

“Not at all. I just… I know you’ve had some… difficulties, and I want to make it easy for you.”

James slid his hand inside Henry’s pants and grasped his warm flesh. “That’s all right—I like it hard.”

Henry chuckled. “Well that’s good, because it already is.”

Once they were naked and James felt the other man’s erection press against his thigh, though, he started to panic. He flipped Henry over with both hands on his shoulders and lay beside him, breathing heavily.


“I’m fine. It’s just… I spent so long trying not to do this, not to be this. I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

Henry tilted James’s chin toward him and looked into his eyes. “You—we—are not doing anything wrong. We’re doing what’s natural—for us.”

James nodded, his blue eyes glassy. “I know. I just wish everyone else felt the same way.”

“I don’t care what they think.” Henry tried to keep his voice light, but his tone was bitter.

“You really don’t?”

Sighing, Henry bent his elbow and propped his head up with his hand. James’s eyes travelled over his magnificent body as he spoke. “No, I really don’t. I’ve spent my whole career being subjected to other people’s views on morality. People who think we should let patients suffer horrible, agonizing deaths instead of helping them, for example. Nothing is immoral unless it hurts others, in my opinion. And what two grown men who love each other choose to do in the privacy of their own bedroom is no one else’s business.”

James blinked. “You—you love me?”

“You know I do.” Henry leaned back toward him now, took James’s face in his hands, and kissed him firmly on his full, perfectly formed lips. Then he pulled back and looked into his lover’s eyes. “But you can’t say the same?”

“I—I do feel--” James stuttered.

“That’s all right. You don’t need to say it now. Say it when you’re ready.” Henry kissed him again, this time trailing his lips down James’s stubbly chin and throat. He continued his journey downward, kissing the dark hairs on his chest and his flat stomach, tracing the line of hair below James’s navel with his tongue.

James sucked in his breath in surprise and saw his cock rise in greeting. Henry placed a hand on it gently and returned the salutation with a long, slow lick from balls to tip.

“Oh, God!” James moaned. It had been so long. He would never ask Olivia to do what Henry was doing now, and it felt like forever since William’s tongue and lips had touched him there. When the warm mouth enclosed him and sucked hard, he bucked his hips up to meet it. James’s right hand rested on Henry’s blond head and his left hand rubbed up and down Henry’s arm. “I can’t take too much of that, or I’ll…” he gasped.

Henry lifted his head and smiled, pushing the stray hairs back into place. “I hope that means you’re enjoying it.”

“Oh, so much. But I want to… I want you.” James levelled his most serious gaze at his lover, hoping he would understand.

Henry swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to move sensuously up and down. “You mean you want to make love to me?”

James nodded. “You said you wanted to make it easy for me. Unless…”

The other man shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. You’re right—it makes sense.” He didn’t think they needed to get into the details of why it made sense, both emotionally and physically. He laid back and stretched out his arms. “Come here, then, darling.”

James stretched his lanky body out on top of Henry’s, feeling his lust grow as their warm skin pressed together. He kissed Henry’s neck, then moved to his lips, while his fingers walked down the blond’s body to his crotch. He stroked his lover’s eager prick, revelling in the sound of Henry’s soft pants. Then he stuck his index finger into his own mouth to wet it. Henry opened his legs wide and raised his knees, and James pushed the finger inside him. It had not been that long since Henry’d had sex, and he didn’t need too much preparation. Very soon, he was reaching for James, pulling him toward him with his hands on his waist.

“Wait,” he said, changing his mind. “Bring that beautiful cock here.” He grabbed James by the hips and angled him upward.

James blushed furiously, but his lips twitched in a hint of a smile. He complied, and within seconds, Henry’s mouth was on him again, licking and sucking his cock with abandon. When he stopped, James took his now-glistening cock and pressed it to Henry’s rear. He pushed as slowly as his impatient body would allow, but it slid in easily, and he found himself embedded inside the man he loved. He only wished he could tell him. This would have to do, for now. His hips thrust with a memory all their own and Henry groaned aloud in ecstasy. James felt like an explorer who’d climbed a mountain and claimed it for himself, planting his flag in the snow. Except that Henry was hot—hot and tight and moving under him in a way that was even more intensely pleasurable than the oral sex had been earlier. A pair of hands gripped his ass firmly, urging him to move faster.

“Don’t go easy on me, James. Just let yourself go.”

Henry always did have the best advice. James pounded into him furiously, flashes of images skipping through his mind. Olivia, open-mouthed and hungry, desperate to be fucked like this—but he’d never managed more than lukewarm sex with her. William, an all-encompassing smile lighting up his fair face as he gazed into James’s eyes. Then other images, other memories, started to crowd in: Harry, half-naked and slicked with sweat, walking toward him; Olivia and his father shouting at each other, George wishing his son was dead; the hard metal table under him as another shock surged through him; the sound of his own vomit hitting the bottom of the pail. He shook his head, closed his eyes tightly, and concentrated. This was not that. This was Henry. Henry, the only person who’d ever made him feel relaxed, like he could truly be himself for the first time in his life. He opened his eyes to see Henry’s staring back at him.

“Fuck me hard, James,” he said. His usual easy-going smile was replaced with a serious face. “Let it all out.”

His frame was slender, but the Bligh boy was a strong man. He’d been holding back—just a bit—out of concern for his lover. But now, with permission, he thrust as hard and fast as he could, slamming Henry into the mattress and knocking the headboard against the wall. When he came, a strangled cry emerged from his throat and he collapsed on top of his partner, sobbing. Henry held him, stroked his hair, and kissed his shoulder. Finally, James seemed to realize where he was. He rolled off to lay beside Henry, wiping his eyes and trying to control his breathing.

“I’m sorr--”

“Don’t you dare be sorry!” Henry cut him off. “That, my love, was catharsis. Was it not?”

James smirked. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Clever man. How did you know I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“I didn’t. I just thought it would be worth it, even if you did.”