Henry, given a choice, had opted for the middle: not the largest, but not the smallest, either. Nicely thick, a pale rose with gold veins, laced with that warming charm. He hadn’t been sure how ambitious Theo wanted him to be; he would’ve been happy to explore, but he also had seen the tiredness in Theo’s shoulders, earlier.
He knew Theo wanted this—he’d felt Theo’s reaction, downstairs—but he didn’t want to push too hard. To ask too much. Not tonight.
He also hadn’t picked the smallest one, though. Theo had told him to choose, and he wanted to show Theo how very, extremely, willing he was.
He was, after all, about to be f****d with one of Theo’s elegant enchanted c***s, one of Theo’s own toys. He would be allowed to have that: so intimate, so sweet, shared between them and given to him
