You were happy to go home with Henry, but your home? It was a shoebox. You are quiet all the way home in the car. He parks his car next to the garage and follows you up the steps to your small apartment.
"Cozy," He gives an impressed nod.
"Okay," you chuckle, looking around and shaking your head.
"No, no," He puts his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder as Kal sniffs the place over. He sits on the mat by the kitchen. "I think it's charming, but...." You feel him shrug behind you.
"What?"
"That bed needs testing."
"Oh," you giggle. "didn't think of that."
"But first—" he turns and walks away.
He can't go far, and you frown. "What?"
"Want to see your fridge."
You inwardly cringe, remembering the conversation you had earlier, and remind him. "I'm only here in the morning and evenings on weeknights."
He goes to the refrigerator and exhales heavily. "Let's see..." he clucks his tongue. "Hmmm, well at least you grilled chicken strips."
"Yeah." You say, forgetting about that.
"Romaine, spinach, radish, kale...tomato, carrot, cucumbers, egss—"
"I have fruit—"
"I see," he says frowning and opening the cupboard. "Cereal, cookies—"
"From the bakery," you interject. "Bread, too." He returns to you and you smile. "Not bad."
"Not iron rich, either."
You exhale. "Some of it."
"Not enough." He pauses. "You must have salads every night."
"Just about," you admit. "I can make us some."
"Thanks," he smiles.
You are cutting up ingredients and then you hear him bounce on the bed. "Oh—"
"Oh, a bed desk," Henry smiles, pulling it onto his lap as he sat on the bed. "Where the magic happens?"
"Magic?"
"The stories?"
You laugh softly. "Yes, I suppose so—"
"Good Lord!" He reaches back.
"I would call that the top hat if the stories are magic."
He picks up a handful of SD cards, looking at them. "They're color coded."
"It's easier."
He picks up the case the cards go into. "I can put them back, if you like."
"Sure."
You hear him shuffling. "Oooh, so the purple ones are Romance and Sex cards?" He immediately inserts that one.
"Henry--!"
"The Art of Kissing? Joys of Sex? Sensual Massage?" Henry reads. "Bedroom Games?!"
"Research, Henry."
"Ideas, Fitness, Fighting, Psychology, Spiritualism, Poetry, JPEG's?" His eyes widen. "You have a library in this case, love."
"Yeah, wanted to take it all with me." You confess. "I miss books."
"You've been in Europe for months," he says. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"What did you leave behind?"
"Whatever needed leaving."
"Family?"
"Some I deeply miss, yes."
"Who, then?"
"Who what?" you bring the salads to the table.
"Are you running from?"
You turn and put the salads down. "Not from the law."
He pulls you into his arms. "Things have a way of catching up."
"Let's hope not."
You have dinner, binge watching Mrs. Brown's Boys. Henry offers to take out the trash, and returns with an odd smile on his face.
"Sweetheart?"
"Hmm?"
"I was surrounded by cats?"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" you gasp. You run to the kitchen and pull kibble out from under the sink. "Lots of cats, been feeding them. It started as like, one—"
"And they tell two friends, and they tell two friends?" he jokes softly.
You roll your eyes at him. "And so on, and so on?" You pull out some beat up cake pans and fill one with water, one with the kibble. "I'll be right back." You carry the pans down the steps to next to the staircase away from the garage door and set them down. "Dinner!" you sing, and before you can say the second syllable they are in view. You kneel down, lightly petting them as they eat. They are used to you now, and pay no attention to your touch.
Suddenly, one of the males hiss.
You gasp and stand up quickly, never seeing it behave like that. "Gus?" You say and back a step—right into Archer.
"Feeding strays?" Archer asks, putting a garbage bag in the can.
You spin around, now facing him and hoping he'll leave the cats alone. "Yes, Stella and I have been for some time now."
Archer sees Henry's car. "You brought him here?"
"You're here," you point out. "You and your brother have a place in town."
"So...you're going public?"
You blink. "That's really none of your business, Archer."
"Do you think he is really going to fall in with you?"
"Archer, he is the guy from London I met!"
Archer's eyes widen. "It was him?"
"Yes," you nod. "I told Stella he was a lookalike, but it was him."
"His idea?"
"No," you admit. "but he did invite me to the challenge, if you must know."
"Can't you see he's using you?"
"Can' you see you're jealous?"
"Sweetheart?"
You look up and see Henry coming down the steps. "Henry—"
Henry's eyes lock on Archer's. "Everything alright?"
You put your hands on Henry's chest, trying to push him back. "Yes, everything's—"
"Archer?"
"Fine, fine," Archer said. Just as you get Henry to the bottom step, he murmurs, "Well off, all mouth, no trousers."
Henry spins around you and faces Archer. "What did you say?"
"Well-off, all mouth, no trousers." Archer bit out every syllable, facing Henry.
"One could say the same about you."
"Henry!" you plead.
"Five minutes, backyard?" Archer asks.
"Five minutes," Henry agrees.
Archer spins on his heel and goes back into the house.
You follow Henry to his car and he pulls out his gym bag. "Henry?" He goes up the steps and back into your apartment. "Henry!"
"I'm sorry, I am so sorry!" Henry shakes his head as he kicks off his shoes and pulls out his gym shoes. He pulls his sweater off, revealing a tight t-shirt. "I've had it with that guy."
"You're not going to do this," you say, shaking your head. "It's the beer, right?"
"I'm not drunk!" He is annoyed. "Do you want him?"
"What?!"
"Are you playing at something?"
"God, Henry, no!" you can't believe he asked that. "I lo-loathe the idea of you being hurt." You drop your gaze, unbelieving that you almost let the biggest cat out of the bag in your life, the lion out of its cage. Confessing your feelings could send him packing.
He tilts your chin up, his anger completely gone, a small smile its place. "I...loathe the idea of you being hurt, too." He turns to you, and holds you by your shoulders. "Let me tell you something, love. Sometimes, words aren't enough. Sometimes a man just has to be a bit primal to get his point across."
"Henry—" you are cut off as he draws you to him, your body crashing into his.
"You're mine," he says in a low voice.
You gasp softly, not only at the words, but the ferocity behind them, the sight of his eyes looking almost gray in the moonlight from the kitchen window, the fact that he passionately drew you to him and it was a painless collision.
"You're mine. He can't have you. I saw you first. I will not relinquish my claim. It's that simple."
You blink at him, the set of his jaw. "Don't send him to the hospital. Hard to explain."
He chuckles as that. "I will try not to."
You watch Henry walk out, and you follow quietly. He grew up in a house with four brothers, three being older. He suffered bullying in prep school. He has had to learn fighting sequences and disciplines for movies and studies jiu-jitsu.
And Archer was an amateur boxer?
This is going to get good and bad at the same time.
You walk after Henry down the steps and find that half the house is home...on a Friday, no less! You'd hoped most had gone to the pub in town, but it's possible phone calls were made, even in five minutes. It is turning dusk, two of the SUVs were parked in such a way to illuminate the back area of the house, which had no light.
"I'll be damned, you came!" Archer tries to goad Henry, but that wasn't going to work.
Henry says nothing, and steps into the lit area. His stare is penetrating, not leaving Archer for a second.
"What's going on?" one of the crew asks.
"An experiment," you say. "Jiu Jitsu versus Boxing."
"Do we have time for bets?"
"I said this is an experiment not a pay per view!" You answer.
Stella grabs your hand, her eyes full of concern and whispers. "This is more than just an experiment, isn't it?"
You only stare ahead.
Archer and Henry start circling each other. The crew is split on who to cheer for-Henry or Archer.
"Knock him out, Archer!"
"Let's go, Henry!"
Archer moves in and lunges. Henry push kicks him back.
"Oooh." The crowd says.
Archer tries to kick, but Henry deflects his leg with a downward block, pushing Archer back and down.
"Aw, let's go, let's go!" someone claps.
Archer charges again, and Henry catches the arm with both hands, pulling Archer to the ground. Archer slides on the grass, keeping his head up so he isn't face down. He rolls to his back and jumps up into a standing position.
"Oh!"
"Awww!"
"You dodging me, Cavill?" Archer taunts.
"Right here," Henry growls softly.
Archer strides to him and Henry doesn't move, but puts up his fists. Archer starts trying to deliver punches, but Henry blocks them. When Archer tries to do a cross, Henry slips under and delivers an upper cut, causing him to stumble back. Henry tries to attack with a cross, but Archer punches his kidneys and Henry flinches. Archer upper cuts and clips his chin.
"Oh, got 'em there!"
You gasp, covering your mouth. You don't want to make a sound unless it's positive. Stella squeezes your hand.
Henry straightens and regains his stance. Archer comes at him again and tries to get him to open up his defenses with a jab but Henry grabs his wrist and takes a step back, lifting Archer at the waist and throwing him to the ground. "Stay down."
"Fuck you!" Archer says, going into a football stance. He charges for Henry and misses like a bull in an arena.
Henry stands at the ready as Archer charges again, but this time turns aside and grabs the back of Archer's neck and bounces his head off the top of the SUV, dazing him. When Archer stumbles back, Henry takes him to the ground and tangles his arms around Archer's arm, pulling it, and wraps his legs around his one, stretching Archer's smaller body. Archer yells in pain not wanting to give in. You "Come on!" Henry roars.
Archer taps and Henry rolls to his feet. Hannah rushes to his side to help him up and he waves her away, wanting to get up on his own steam. Everyone starts clapping and talking, the excitement over.
You are mortified to see money exchange between crew members. How did this become a pay per view-a fucking betting game-so quickly?
People try to congratulate Henry, but his look says he wants none, but he is watching and waiting for Archer.
Archer walks over and shakes Henry's hand, and the crew claps and cheers. He pulls Henry close and whispers something in his ear.
"I know," Henry nods. He takes your hand and leads you back inside.
You stand there looking up at him. His eyes are intense and are watching your every move. You're breathing hard and you don't know why. You touch his face, and turn it. You see a bruise starting at his chin and he has a little blood coming from his mouth. You gently remove his shirt and see bruises forming on his torso from the body punches and being pushed into the SUV.
"It's not bad. Tournaments have been worse." He kicks off his shoes.
You rush to the kitchen and get ice, putting it in a plastic bag and then wrapping it in a towel, then apply it to his face. You have no idea what to say. You feel bad about it. Now you just hope it's over.
"I've never fought for a woman before," he says softly. He seems in deep thought.
"I'm sorry-" Your breath hitches as he grabs your wrist while icing his jaw.
"You've done nothing wrong," he whispers, kissing it. He brushes his lips along your inner wrist, starting a trail of goosebumps that travel up your arm.
You recognize the look in his eyes and your entire body is awash with heated awareness. He pulls you close, his hands aligning your hips with his as he brushes his lips against your neck and ear over and over again. He starts guiding you toward the couch step by step. You hear him and inhale. "Henry?"
"You smell nice," his voice vibrates against you as his hands travel under your top. He pulls it over your head, and drops it on the floor. His hands smooth over your bare arms and then come up your back which enables him to unfasten your bra, and then over your shoulders. "Soft."
Your heart skips and your mind goes blank. You're suddenly nervous. You sit on the couch, having nowhere else to go, and he kneels, pushing your legs apart. His hands move over your shoulders to take off the bra. He returns to your breasts, cupping as I weighing them. He kisses your neck and you squirm at the heat of his lips against your jugular, gasp when his tongue traces your pulse down to your collarbone. He leans forward, pushing you back and puts his hands at the small of your back, pulling your leggings and underwear down. You raise your hips and his attention falls between your legs, looking at how the position puts you in one of offering. You are nude before him as his hands slide up the outsides of your legs to your hips again, dragging you to the edge of the couch and resting your thighs on his shoulders as he sucks on your outer lips.
You cry out and arch, then feel your body go lax only to do it again as his tongue surges and lashes within your folds. You begin to writhe as he sharpens a need that goes so much deeper than he can go at this position. Your hands rest on the back of his head as your hips rise off the edge of the couch, offering and demanding more, and he moans in response, still lapping at what he has drawn from you.
He rises coming forward on the couch and hooks your knees over his shoulder, leaving you vulnerable and open, then thrusts into you to the hilt in one movement. A kitten cry comes from you, being filled and stretched so quickly, but you exhale with relief, the fullness making you pulse around him, making him throb inside you. He stills for few moments and starts to slowly moves in and out of you; for a moment you could swear your hearts are beating together.
His rhythm quickens and you gasp his name. You can't move, the position and hold he has you in does not permit it. He is taking you-maybe even claiming you after what has happened-so this time, you just take it...gladly.
You arch, your hips coming off the couch as you cry his name, climaxing around him. He holds your legs tight, and licks his lips, slowing for a moment, but keeps going. With no reprieve, you are panting now, your head rocking side to side. Your body is coming apart and coming together around him at once.
"Henry!"
His eyes close and he bites his bottom lip as you feel him swell within you. You think he is about to climax, but then his eyes open as he slows. He is determined to keep going. His eyes look light, almost electric, he increases the intensity, still holding onto your legs with one arm, but now his other hand is at your hip, guiding you onto him as you squirm, your nerves becoming a bit raw, your senses tuned into him-his eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, the flexing of his arms as he holds you in a position of submission, a combination of a naturally male essence that is his own. You are his own.
A scream tears from your throat, and you start to tremble. You feel liquid heat inside you, and you know it isn't you. He pounds slow and hard, panting and growling over you, and you are able to loosen one leg and put it on his other shoulder. He smirks, letting your legs down around his waist to kiss you, and then lifts you off the couch, still kissing you, still pulsating inside you, and now his arms keep you wrapped around him as you move to the bed.
He crashes onto the bed with you beneath him and you are in heaven. Feeling him so deep inside you, being completely surrounded by his scent, rubbing your cheek against his, tears spring to your eyes. "I'm not moving." He breathes.
You giggle, your limbs wrapping around him. "Nobody is telling you to."
He rotates his hips, and you gasp at the how good it feels. "Neither are you."