Giddy at this success, Henry went on, “Any particular sort of tea? Or breakfast?” and tried not to dance in place on the step. He had more energy than he’d had for ages, a sort of weary but crackling elation that frothed up inside his bones. He was not entirely well, he knew that, but he felt—better.
“You may choose.” Theo did a little eyebrow-shrug. “But do put everything else back—not that you wouldn’t, I don’t mean to remind you, I just had to say it.”
“I know,” Henry said. “I will.”
Going down the steps as Theo moved up, he felt their bodies touch; he felt Theo’s hand actively caress him, skim along his arm, slip along his back, brush just above his arse. He liked that feeling: Theo wanting to touch his body, to keep hold of him, to anchor him, to offer hope.
After breakfast they v
