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Freezing water drips down her face and she sucks in a breath at the unpleasant cold. Straightening up and grabbing a towel, she dries her face and studies her reflection in the mirror. Camilla’s short blonde hair falls in waves around her face, just long enough to brush her shoulders. The sleeves of her oversized burgundy sweater are pushed up to her elbows, and she has discarded her pants on the floor in favor of some comfortable shorts. She scrubs at the matching lipstick that is stubbornly staining her mouth. She looks at the now-stained hand towel and frowns. “Oops…” She mutters to herself, making a mental note to do some laundry tomorrow. Throwing it into the laundry basket, she comes out of the bathroom to see someone on one of the two twin-sized beds in the room.
Henry sits on the bed silently and seems to not notice her come in. The room was almost completely dark except for a small bit of moonlight breaking through the blinds painting stripes onto the floor. Camilla grins at the sight of her friend. “Oh, hello Henry! did you need something?” She asks him as she heads over to her bed. When Henry doesn't reply, she continues. “If you’re looking for Charles, he won’t be here until tomorrow night.” Still, he says nothing. She sees that his shoes had been kicked off by the door when he had entered the room in a haphazard way that was uncharacteristic for him.
“Hens? Is something wrong?” She approaches Henry and stops just in front of him. “What’s up?” Henry seems to come back to reality and meets her gaze. He gives her a polite smile and a head nod. “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to ask- Camilla, do you mind if I sleep here with you tonight? I- you can say no, I was just- wondering…” He trails off.
“Oh, yeah I don’t mind at all! Is something the matter?”
“I-” he dropped his gaze again. “It’s nothing, Milly.”
“Oh come on, don’t bullshit me. There’s obviously something going on in that head of yours. You don’t always have to keep it all to yourself, now tell me what’s wrong.” She rests her left hand on his knee, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
Henry lets out a strained breath. “I just, I can’t stop thinking about that night and the old farmer… the feeling of his blood on my hands… Milly, I can still see it…” His expression is unusual and his voice is small, and he is holding his hands away from himself as if they weren’t really his own. He takes a deep breath. “I- I haven't shown it Milly, but these past few weeks have been the most stressful in my life. Making sure our tracks were covered, scanning the news for any mention of us, making sure Bunny got what he wanted just so he would keep his mouth closed!” He sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his closed eyes for a couple of seconds. “It just feels like I have to be the strong one of the group, keeping everyone out of trouble and,” He lifts his head to face Camilla again, “and I can’t let you all see me worry because if you do, well, everything falls apart.” The last bit was quieter. Camilla places her hand on his cheek and he leans into it, averting his gaze. “I just, I wish I could step down for a while, it’s so, so hard to be in charge all the time Milly.” He whispers, voice breaking and eyes burning with tears threatening to spill over.
“Oh, Henry, honey,” Camilla croons, guiding his head to rest on her chest. One hand trails slowly up and down his back while the other cards through his hair. After a while of staying like that, Henry wraps his arms around Camilla’s waist. Camilla feels a surge of love toward her friend in her heart. Seeing Henry in such a vulnerable state was something she had never imagined possible. As far as she knew, Henry never worried, never cried, and wasn’t particularly fond of physical touch. But now she just wants to hold him close and let him let go of the world for a moment. She wants to take care of him like he takes care of the rest of them. She gives him a light kiss on the top of his head and murmurs, “You’re so good to us Hens, we wouldn’t be able to get through this without you. You're so strong.” She feels him tense a little at her words and hears him let out a small whine, almost inaudible, but unmistakable. A bit surprised at his reaction, Camilla paused her movements, butterflies coming to life in her stomach. Did Henry just whine? Was it something she said? She had to admit that it was cute. Like, really cute. Gods. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was a little turned on. Grabbing his chin gently, she tilts his face up to hers. Henry’s cheeks are flushed pink and he tries to avoid eye contact.
“I’m sorry Camilla I didn’t mean to I- please just forget about that-” He stammers. Camilla grins, “Oh don’t be embarrassed Hens. I didn’t mind. In fact, I’ll take it as a compliment.” Without releasing her hold on his chin she leans down, their noses almost brushing. “Can I kiss you?” she whispers. Henry looks at her with wide eyes for a moment before uttering a small “please.”
Camilla doesn't waste a second more, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly gains energy and passion. At first, Henry sits, frozen, before kissing back. His mind is filled with nothing but her. Camilla. She leads the kiss, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thighs. He feels himself being pushed gently backward until he is resting on the mattress, but his head still feels sky-high. Her hands find their way back in his hair and he whines again, feeling her grin briefly against his lips. His hands lay useless at his side until he regains control of his body aenough to embrace her around the waist, wanting to have as much contact as possible. By now, she has to have noticed the hardness that has been forming in his trousers for a few minutes, steadily growing with each accidental brush over his groin. She must have because she starts wriggling her hips more and more with each kiss. Surely to torture him, he thinks. He can't help the moan that slips from him on one particularly hard brush. Gods, she knows exactly how to get him riled up. Normally, Henry would feel embarrassed for being this easy to fluster, but this was Camilla. Sweet, caring, witty Camilla. She did things to him that he was ashamed to admit. Nights he lay alone in his bed, panting and moaning her name, imagining the things she would do to him. Gods, what he would do for her. He imagined her ordering him to his knees, forced to beg for release. He wanted to serve her, to please his mistress. His goddess. It was embarrassing how hard he came whenever he imagined her denying him, begging and crying beneath her until she took pity upon him and allowed him to come. He had tried hooking up with girls before on a couple of occasions, sure, but none of them could take care of him in the way he craved. Most of the time, these hookups ended with him half-heartedly jerking himself to finish and then going outside for a smoke. He had given up trying to make a connection with somebody because they all expected him to be strong and dominating, but he couldn’t keep it up. These women were attractive, sure, but Henry couldn't bring himself to truly love them. He couldn’t find the appeal of the mundane romance he observed in the couples at Hampden.
But Camilla was different. She didn’t fawn over boys on campus. She didn’t dream of a future of white picket fences and two and a half children. She lived in the moment, chasing excitement and pleasure and disregarding the opinions of others. Henry loved that about her. She kept him grounded. And now he wanted to forget everything and let her make the decisions for him. He knew she would understand his need to let go for a while. He writhes under her, feeling her tongue exploring his mouth and her fingers tangling in his hair. He can't help but grind up slightly, itching for stimulation on his hard cock. She pulls their mouths apart and starts kissing along his jaw and down his throat, licking along his pulse. Henry’s little gasps and moans were like music to her ears and she wants to keep doing this forever, pulling the sounds of his pleasure from deep within him. It thrilled her to see how she could shatter him into pieces with her touch. Sitting up, she studies the face of the boy beneath her, his wide eyes, and his spit-slicked lips. Henry was panting slightly, staring at her like she was all he knew.
“Henry?” Camilla says as she caresses his face. Henry tries to lean up to kiss her again and rolls his hips again but she presses a hand to his chest to hold him down. “Henry, honey, I need to know how far you want this to go.” She says, more sternly this time.
“Camilla,” he manages to say, “I want you to be in control, I want to please you, I need it.” These words send sparks through her and she grins. “Anything? Are you going to be a good boy for me?” She grinds down on his erection again, earning a moan from her boy.
“Yes! Yes. I’m your good boy,” he gasps, “can I call you mistress? Please?” Camilla couldn’t deny him, he was so pretty like this. “Of course baby,” she replies, giving him a quick peck and reveling in the way he chases her lips.
“Thank you, mistress.”
“You’re welcome, baby. Now, I know you said you want me to be in complete control, but I want you to know that I need you to tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, okay honey? It won’t hurt my feelings, I promise.”
“Yes Mistress, thank you.” She rewards him by allowing him to kiss her for a bit longer. She then peels her body from his before getting up completely, causing Henry to whine at the loss of her weight on his. “Alright Henry, I want you to take your shirt and pants off, quickly now.” She requests. Henry, eager to please his mistress, scrambles to unbutton the remaining buttons of his dress shirt, fingers slipping until he is finally able to pull it off and toss it to the side.
“Oh no baby, you wouldn’t want your shirt to get wrinkled would you?” Camilla scolded gently.
“Sorry, mistress,” Henry mutters, ashamed.
She giggles “It’s alright, I’ll be waiting for you in the armchair when you’re ready.”
She watches as he folds his shirt and trousers, setting them on the bed and starting for the waistband of his boxers. “Ah ah ah, keep those on honey, you look so pretty in them.” She calls from the armchair, where she has started lightly touching herself through her panties. She had to stop herself from drooling at the sight of him. Henry usually wore pretty formal clothing that obscured his shape, but now she knew that his body was a sight she could never get tired of. Her gaze followed the slope of his shoulders down to the soft curve of his tummy and the trail of dark hair that led beneath his underwear. Henry was perfect, and she wanted him terribly. “Gods, baby, you’re so pretty, come here.” Henry approaches the armchair and drops to his knees obediently. “Thank you, mistress.” He whispers, embarrassed. She pulls him into a kiss as her hands roam his body freely. Soon, though, she can’t wait any longer and tips his chin up to face her. “Hens,” she starts, “I want you to eat me out, can you do that for me?”
“Yes mistress, I would love to!” Henry replies enthusiastically. She takes his glasses off and carefully places them on the side table.
“Good boy.” Camilla pulls her panties down and drops them on the floor. “Go ahead.”
Henry falls on her like a man starving. Camilla gasps and has to bite her lip to keep from falling apart immediately as his tongue laps at her clit, savoring her wetness like it were nectar from the gods. Her mind is screaming with white-hot pleasure. She can feel her orgasm forming steadily in her abdomen as he continues to work dutifully at her clit. “Hen.. baby..” she forces out with a shaky breath, “Mmm, I’m going to come, don’t stop, you’re doing so good for me baby.” Hearing that seems to spur him on, and she can't hold back a low moan as he works his tongue deeper into her. Camilla could feel him wriggling ever so slightly and she sees his hand grasping at his clothed cock. “No touching yourself, you want to please your Mistress don’t you? You can touch her though, and maybe if you’re good she will reward you.” She guides his hands up to her thighs and he immediately latches on. Her hands dive into his hair once again, tightening and eliciting a whimper from the boy between her legs. She almost feels bad until she is overcome by her orgasm shooting through her and causing her legs to twitch. Moans and words of praise drip from her lips in a sweet trickle.
She holds him there until the sensitivity becomes too much and then pulls him to her face and kisses him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue. “You did so good Henry, gods you’re incredible.” she pants. “I think you deserve to fuck me, let's go to your bed.” Camilla rises on shaky legs and leads Henry by the hand to his bed. She lifts her sweater over her head, showing her small chest. Henry sits in awe at her bare torso and Camilla giggles. Gesturing to his boxers, she says “you can take these off now honey.” He scrambles to be rid of the restricting cloth, whimpering a little as his erection is exposed to the air. Camilla admires it, thick, and a good 5 or 6 inches. Globs of precome weep from the swollen, red tip. She reaches out to grasp it in her hand and Henry moans at the stimulation.“Thank you, Mistress!” he cries.
“You’re welcome, baby” she hums, stroking his cock teasingly. “Do you want Mistress to sit on your pretty cock?” She asks him, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, please! Please, I’ve been so good for you!” He sobs miserably. It’s hard for Camilla to wait this long, but she loves seeing him wrecked and desperate like this. She wants to keep him like this a little longer, just to watch him squirm a little more. She runs her thumb over the slit, cooing at his whines and feeling him shiver as she showers him in kisses across his face, neck, and chest. Finally, she lifts up on her knees and keeps one hand on his chest to balance while the other guides his cock to her entrance. His breathing is shallow and quick in anticipation and she leans down to kiss his chest a few more times in assurance. “Mistress, I can’t wait any longer, I’m begging you!” Henry pleads.
Hearing this, Camilla lowers herself carefully onto his cock. After so little attention being paid to his cock, Henry can't help but buck his hips up into the slick warmth and she whimpers a little at the stretch, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. But she quickly regains composure and holds Henry’s waist down on the mattress. “I’m sorry!” Henry shouts, the fogginess in his mind clearing slightly in panic. “I didn’t mean to, Mistress! Are you okay?” Camilla, seeing the fear in his eyes, smiles and takes his hand in hers, kissing his fingers softly. “Don’t worry baby, it was an accident. I just need some time to adjust, okay? Here, you can touch me if you’d like honey.” Henry can feel himself sinking back into the cloudy headspace he loved, where his only thoughts are to please his Camilla. His arms feel heavy when he lifts them to stroke her breasts. Her flesh is warm and supple against the rough skin of his palms. He is enchanted by her figure above him, illuminated from behind by the moonlight through the window. Camilla was a work of art made by the gods, he couldn’t have made her more beautiful to him if he had sculpted her with his own hands. Is this what it felt like to be in the presence of divinity? He wanted to pray to her, worship her, and beg for mercy at her feet. The tension is starting to become unbearable, but Camilla seems to be satisfied as she begins moving, slowly at first, rolling her hips teasingly as she goes up and down in long, slow strokes. Henry thinks he might just come right then and there and slaps the back of his hand over his mouth to muffle his involuntary moans. The pleasure burns from his abdomen to every inch of his body. Camilla stops bouncing and gives him a disapproving look. “Darling, don’t hide your pretty little sounds from me. I want to see you fall apart.” She grins devilishly as she pries Henry’s hands away from his face and pins his wrists on either side of him, resuming her movements. She tips her head back, a breathy moan coming from her throat as his cock brushes her most sensitive spot. “Gods, Henry, you feel so fucking good I never want to let you go.” She groans as her second orgasm grips her, making her shiver with pleasure.
“Ca- M-Mistress!’ Henry stammers, voice breaking and tears brimming at the feeling of her walls clenching rhythmically around him. “I-”
“Yes, sweetheart? Are you close? Do you want to come?” Camilla asks.
“Yes! I’m so close please!” His voice is watery and his breaths are shaky. Camilla notices this and she lifts herself off of her lover, despite his pleading.
“Hey, how are you doing, Hens?” Camilla asks, breaking scene for a moment, taking Henry’s hands in hers to ground him.
“I’m good, so, so good, Mist- Camilla.” Camilla can feel him holding onto her for dear life and she is borderline worried. “Henry, darling, you’re crying, do you need to take a break?” She asks.
“No! I mean- no, I’m okay, I swear.” He assures her. “You just make me feel so good.” He admits shyly. Camilla smiles at this. “Thank you, baby. Now, do you want to start again?”
“Yes please, I’m so close, please let me come.”
“Shhh baby, you can wait a little bit longer, can’t you?” She whispers. She brings her face close to his twitching cock and breathes a warm breath across the tip.
Henry gasps. “Mistress, please, I need it so bad!” Camilla ignores him, kissing his stomach and across his chest. She sucks at his neck, motivated by the desperate little noises coming from him. After a minute or two, she takes his cock in her delicate fingers, brushing along the sensitive slit with her thumb, and then finally wrapping more firmly around him and stroking. Henry cries out, his orgasm building back up almost immediately.
“You’re so good for me honey, so good…” Camilla murmurs against his chest, “you’re so beautiful you know that, right?” He whines at the praise, thrusting his hips up into her touch. She lifts her head to take in the delicious sight of him. She had never seen him less than perfectly put together- crisp, clean suits, hair combed until no strand was out of place; and yet here he was now, marks scattered across his chest and neck like constellations, his hair messy, and oh the sounds he was making were divine. Camilla had made him like this, led him to the edge of the world and there he stood. She occupied every fraction of his mind. Everything he did was for her. Everything he saw, heard, and felt, it was all Camilla. She was his patron goddess and he was her human lover, delicate and weak and flawed. And at this moment in time, Henry felt entirely mortal.
When she leans down and whispers ever so sweetly, “Come for me, darling,” his orgasm takes hold of him and all he can do is moan and thank her profusely, back arching and hot come pouring over her hand and onto his stomach. It takes a while for Henry to recover, chest heaving and muscles weak. Camilla moves up the bed and holds him close to her, running her fingers through his sweaty hair and whispering praise and “I love you’s.”
“Baby you did so well for me. I’m so proud of you, darling,” She hums. Henry’s head is pressed against her chest as he gradually calms down. The first words he whispers are “Can- could you kiss me? please?” He cringes at his small voice, the high from their lovemaking wearing off and leaving him exhausted and needy. Camilla tilts his head up gently, leaning down and attacking him with little kisses across his forehead and cheeks. Henry squirms and whines, and she smiles.
“Okay okay,” she giggles, “you’re just so cute like this!” Finally, she connects their lips sweetly. The kiss isn’t forceful, just soft and intimate and overflowing with love. Henry wishes it would never end, but he feels her pull away and he opens his eyes. He sees Camilla reach into one of the bedside drawers and pull out a few tissues. He becomes painfully aware of the massive amount of come spattered across his stomach and chest. Camilla hums contentedly as she first cleans her hand as best she can before doing the same for her lover. She stands and takes both his hands, interlacing their fingers and guiding him to stand with her. “Alright big boy, we’d better take a shower.” She leads him to the bathroom, only letting go of him to turn on the water and test it for temperature. Henry sits on the toilet seat, quietly observing.
He crosses his legs awkwardly and covers his upper body with his arms, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with his nakedness. A sinking feeling weighs in his chest, thoughts rushing through his mind in fragments. He stares at the floor, overwhelmed with shame and guilt and anxiety. She shouldn't have to take care of him like a child, he's supposed to be strong. Oh, Gods, no one had ever seen him that vulnerable, what if she's uncomfortable around him now? The way he acted, she must be disgusted. She must just feel sorry for him now, that's why she's taking care of him, she’ll probably leave right after this. What would this do to their friendship? He treasured her company, even if he didn't always show it. What would he do if she left? Camilla, seemingly satisfied with the water, turns to him. Her expression quickly becomes concerned when she sees him with tears brimming in his eyes. “Hens, what’s wrong? Tell me, darling.” She crouches down to his level, unsure whether or not to touch him. He hugs himself tighter and avoids her gaze. “Henry, what's going on?” She asks once more.
“Uhm, I don’t know- I'm okay, just feels- bad.” He mumbles.
“Oh, honey, can you please tell me what you're thinking about?" She takes his hand, forcing him to meet her eyes.
He swipes at his wet eyes with his free hand. "I'm sorry..." he whispers, "I'm being ridiculous..." "No, no you're not, you don't have to be ashamed, Henry, I liked it! I like you! It's okay to let your guard down, to want to be vulnerable with somebody," she assures him "and frankly, I'm so happy you feel safe with me. I meant everything I said, Hens. I love you." She stands, pulling him up with her.
"I lov-" he takes a deep breath "I love you too, Milly."
The water envelopes them in warmth and they stand under the spray for a while, just holding each other and tracing the curves of each other's bodies. Camilla reaches for her shampoo and pours a generous amount in her hands, massaging it into Henry’s wet hair. He moans a little at her nails scratching at his scalp. He inhales deeply and recognizes it as the sweet, mesmerizing scent that follows Camilla everywhere. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. He wants to commit this moment to memory forever. The scent of rosehips, the feeling of warm water raining down on him, and the sight of Camilla in his arms. He runs his hands over her hips and thighs, feeling her stretch marks and hip dips and soft stomach and treasuring each and every bit of her. She looks up at him, pushing hair out of his eyes and stretching up to kiss him once more.
After drying off, they crawl into Camilla’s bed together. She is wearing a shirt she had borrowed from him that draped over her perfectly and ended halfway down her thighs. Henry glances over to the alarm clock on the bedside table: 11:52. He wraps his arms around her waist and lays his head on her chest as the beat of her heart and the fingers rubbing his back coax him to sleep.