"My thighs can be your earmuffs." / "I can't stop thinking about your hands on me." / "I don't have a gag reflex."
"My thighs can be your earmuffs."
Only after a few weeks of having Max work under him, in more ways than one, Henry realized that the boy couldn't sit in silence for too long before he started to fuss in his seat and have to fill the silence in the room. He wasn't particularly listening to the amount of words that were falling out of his mouth, Henry having trained himself to tune the younger boy out. It wasn't until he heard that particular sentence that he looked up from the paper, eyes trailing over the boy's features. "If I'm being honest, that was the first thing I've actually paid attention to that you've been saying this entire time." He said, chuckling lightly and repositioning himself in his chair. "Where did that even come from? It's not even winter, my ears aren't cold."
"I can't stop thinking about your hands on me."
"That's the idea," Henry said, voice low and husky as he sat across from the boy in his office. "I said no touching," he said as he watched Max's hand reach for the growing bulge in his pants. "I know you hate listening to direction but I'm gonna drag this out even longer if you don't listen."
"I don't have a gag reflex."
Henry pushed the boy's smaller body through the doorway of his apartment, pining him against the wall, hands roaming all over the teenager's body. His hands lifted the boy's shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, lips attaching to the boy's neck, making sure to suck a mark deep enough that'll show up at work tomorrow. "Gonna suck me off real good, aren't you?" He asked, as his lips made his way back to the boy's lips, biting on them lightly. "I don't have a gag reflex." Was a statement that instantly drew a laugh out of Henry's lips. "Trust me, I think we've already established that." He said, throwing the boy over his shoulder and carrying him towards his bedroom.
