#comlicated

It wasn't Henry being in my bed that affected me. We'd been sharing a bed for sometime now. Borderline dating, if you want to call it that. But hadn't officiated it, though we made out, cuddled and touched each other a hell of a lot.

It was him being naked in my bed.

Eyes trailing from his relaxed face and over his hairy, muscular chest to where the edge of the blanket just stopped, at the last possible inch of his lower hips. I'd been turned on by Henry shirtless before—who the hell wouldn't be? But now, I felt something new inside myself yearning for more, to tug that blanket free and see him utterly naked, to feel him naked against me, to feel him inside of me.

However, before my mind or actions could go any farther into possibly acting out on it, Henry started to stir and I lost my nerve. I didn't want him to catch me staring at him, so I turned on my heels and made my way downstairs, before he saw me.

Standing at the kitchen counter, trying to get myself back together, with a cup of tea to calm my nerves with the caffeine, when Henry appeared behind me. He was in a loose pair of gray sweatpants, and was still shirtless. He smiled at me softly, wrapping his arms around my waist, peeking over my shoulder to see what I was doing. I relaxed, feeling Henry's hands graze my hips and wrap his strong arms around me. Leaning back against him, I turned my head, as he rested his on my shoulder, and kissed his cheek lightly, half wondering if the hard on he was sporting was his having to pee or something more.

“Tea or coffee?” He asked, turning his face to nuzzle my neck, playfully.

“Tea.” I answered. “You want coffee?”

“Mmm.” He sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around me, making his hard on even more noticeable and me to moan, my eyes closing. But as quickly as Henry had hugged me closer to him, he let go again. “Coffee.” He whispered, turning to the Keurig and getting it going, before heading out to the living room to pop the tv on.

I stood where I was, gobsmacked. What had I done? Or had I misinterpreted what he had done.

Shaking my head, disappointed, I pulled the whistling kettle off the stove and poured my cuppa. Standing there, while my tea brewed, unable to face him, and cringing when I heard the Keurig beep, signaling that Henry's coffee was ready. I didn't look at him as he came back into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet above my head and poured his brew.

“You got anything scheduled for today?” He asked, turning to lean back against the counter and sipped the black liquid.

I shook my head, pulling the tea bag from my cup and tossed it in the trash, before stirring in a bit of honey and creamer.

Henry frowned, watching me finish my tea. “So, you got nothing to do today?” He asked and got another head shake. “What's wrong?” He frowned more, knowing something was off.

“Nothing.” I answered, in short, taking a sip of tea.

“Did I do something?”

What you didn't do. I almost said, out loud. “No, you haven't done anything.” I told him, and left the kitchen.

He called after me as I went upstairs, but I ignored him.

Frowning and dropping his head forward with a sigh, Henry turned and went back to the couch, figuring I'd come back down. But, when I didn't come back almost an hour later, Henry set his empty cup on the coffee table and headed upstairs, finding me sitting cross legged in the bed and on my laptop.

“What are you doing?” He asked, stopping next to the bed, staring down at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Checking my mail.” I answered, never looking away from the screen or stopping my fingers as I typed out a reply to one of my most urgent emails.

“Why aren't you checking them downstairs?”

“What does it matter where I check them?” I replied, frowning at the screen.

“Well, you always check them downstairs, on the couch, while watching tv with me.” Henry answered, sounding hurt, and looking so.

“Yeah, cause I'm only good for watching tv, right.” I snapped, slamming my laptop shut and getting up to head for the bathroom.

“What!” Henry snapped back, surprised, rounding the bed to grab me by the arm and pull me to a stop.

“Fuck off!” I snapped back, trying to yank away from him.

“What's wrong?” Henry asked, holding me and wrapping an arm around my waist, so I couldn't pull away from him again. “Tell me.” He said, soft and low.

“I told you,” I barked. “To fuck off.”

Henry grinned at me. “I love it when you're worked up.” He chuckled, amused.

“You won't when I kick you in the nuts.” I growled, again. “Now, let go!”

“Nope.” He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You've pissed me off already, Cavill. You wanna finish it!?” I growled, agitated by his smugness.

“So, I did piss you off.” He grinned wider. “What did I do?”

I growled and shoved him away, Henry letting me go this time. “Go fuck yourself.” I huffed, storming into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Henry roared with laughter and opened the bathroom door, leaning against the framing, seeing I had started to undress. I turned to look at him with an expression of pure murder. But, before I could cuss him out again and kick him out of the bathroom, Henry pushed off the door frame towards me. Grabbing me by the wrist, he pulled me against him and kissed me deeply. He knew that he'd upset me in the kitchen, when he pulled away, but he was afraid that I wouldn't want him that way, that I was fine with us being something more along the lines of platonic, friends with benefits. But seeing how upset I seemed to be now, assured him that I did want more from him and our relationship.

His hands ran down my back, slipping into the waistband of my pajama bottoms and panties to grab and squeeze my ass. He'd dreamed about touching my bare skin, my body; many times a day, often getting himself off to that image and me in his mind. The prospect of finally being able to see me properly naked and touch me, to be inside of me, made Henry incredibly hard and horny.

He broke the kiss and looked down into my eyes, searching, asking, pleading. I looked back up at him, seeing it and feeling relieved as I nodded my head.

The moment I nodded, the flood gates broke open.

Henry moved, crashing our lips back together in a hungry kiss of long pent up desire. Henry's hands fell to my hips, fingers curling around the waistband of my pajama bottoms and underwear, yanking them down and letting them pool at my feet. Gripping my hips, Henry turned us and picked me up, sat me on the vanity, his knees pushing open mine to allow him to stand between them. His mouth on my neck, sucking and biting the delicate skin there, moans escaped me shamelessly.

I ghosted up the hills and valleys of Henry's thick arms with my palms, raising goosebumps across his skin, to rest my hands on his strong shoulders and smoothed them back down the plain his back, outlining my way over his hips for a moment, before taking one of his hands in mine. I gently spread his fingers and traced the lines on his broad palm, feeling my own skin sizzle with the accomplished contact.

“I want you, Henry.” I moaned, turning my face into the hair just behind his ear, fingers slipping between the gaps of his.

Henry sighed into my neck. “Again.” He whispered, lips lingering against my skin.

“I want you.” I grinned, a thrill running through my veins.

His arms closed around my waist, pressing me flat against him, and I was sure this time. He was hard for me. Henry looked me straight in the eyes, with want and anticipation. Smirking devilishly, he pushed his pants out of the way, chuckling at the wide eyed flare I gave him as I finally got to see the one part of Henry I never had before.

“Lord Jesus.” I gasped, gulping and licking my lips.

“I get that a lot.” Henry quipped, wrapping my legs around his waist.

A shiver ran down my body feeling him rub against me, making me whimper.

Over wasting time, Henry slipped slowly into me, wanting to savor the beautiful, slick warmth he was delving into. My eyes rolled back and shut, the muscles of my stomach quivering, legs tightening around Henry's hips. The first thrust was like lightning striking through our bodies and sizzling in our minds.

I tightened around him and rocked my hips, driving Henry deeper and deeper. “More.” I panted, gripping his shoulders to steady us both. “Henry.” I begged, when he didn't.

Smiling and breathless, Henry pulled me to the edge, spreading his feet a little farther apart, hands glued to my hips and nails digging into my skin, making me groan, he thrust into me harder and fast.

Things tipped over on the counter, spilling onto the floor and into the sink. The room filled with the sounds of exertion and the contact of skin. I gasped, breath catching in my throat, my muscles trembling and despite the hot flush of my body, goosebumps covered my skin, as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my spine to every nerve ending.

I surged around Henry, making him groan deep in his throat.

The indescribable warmth radiating from between my thighs intensified, building more and more, making my mind desperately focused on the single goal of tipping over the final edge; a flush of that warmth flooding out, gushing around Henry's still thrusting manhood. When the wave passed, it left me slack and limp, with untold satisfaction and completion, fighting for full breaths and what little strength I had to hold on to him. A sudden surge filled me again, bringing me somewhat out of my haze. It was Henry finally hitting his own peak, pumping me with that gratifying feeling all over again.

Henry's body went lax, his head dropping heavily onto my shoulder, making us both sway against the vanity. I rested my head on his shoulder, arms weak and shaky around his torso, as we leaned against each other for support and fighting to calm our screaming lungs.

“What?” He whispered, too exhausted to manage anything else, as he heard me mumble something, but only felt my lips brush against the skin of his shoulder.

“I'm sorry for getting angry at you.” I said, louder this time, turning my head into his ear. “I should have just told you—what....what I wanted.”

Henry smiled softly, picking his head up, hands raising to hold my face and made me look at him. “I should have told you too.” He admitted. “I should have told you a long time ago. Instead of allowing us to tiptoe on the edge of this...friends with benefits and-and...I don't know—line.”

He licked his lips and nodded his head. “I'm sorry too.”

Resting my forehead against his forehead. “Well, it's all out in the open now.” I told him, caressing my fingers through his hair. “Whatever we are now?”

“I want us to be us.” He answered, simply. “Together, for real.”

I stared into his eyes, a multitude of emotions and thoughts flowing through me. “I'd love that...more than anything.”

“You still wanna take that shower?” He asked, taking a step back, and looking at the stuff that fell onto the floor.

“Yeah, I do.” I laughed. “You wanna join me?”

Henry nodded his head, moving to the shower and turning it on, he knew I loved hotter showers, so he left the cold tap alone and turned back to me. Chuckling, I hopped off the vanity, sauntered by Henry, wobbly legs and all, playfully slapping him on the butt, and stepped into the shower.