forgive my mouth

Title: Look But Don’t Touch
Author: Spikedluv
Fandom: Blood Ties (TV’verse)
Rating: NC17/Slash
Pairing: Mike/Henry
Length: 730 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Henry made a gorgeous corpse . . .
Notes: May be considered non-con if you’re sensitive to that. Written for Round 13 of rounds_of_kink for the prompt: Henry Fitzroy/Mike Celluci, Mike has always loved morning sex, and the kink: Necrophilia/somnophilia. Not sure this is what you had in mind, Munchkin, but I hope you enjoy it. *g*
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Written: October 12, 2009

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Mike woke up uncomfortable, his morning erection trapped beneath him. He rolled over, and his back came up against a cool, dead body. Most people would be freaked out at that (and to be honest, Mike had been a little bit freaked the first few times it had happened), but Mike just reached back and rested his hand on Henry’s hip. He relaxed against Henry’s unmoving form, and weighed his current comfort level against the mild insistence of his bladder.

Mike twisted and rolled onto his side so he could look at Henry. Henry made a gorgeous corpse, all cold porcelain, like the most beautiful statue. But this wasn’t Henry. Mike reached out and touched Henry’s hair, brushed a finger across his lips. The real Henry existed somewhere beneath this faux repose.

Henry was in his smile, wide and warm, or twisted and mocking. The light in his eyes, whether he was poking fun at Mike, or kissing him. The sound of his voice, by turns infuriating and sexy. The strength in his hands, squeezing the life out of a demon, or bringing Mike to the edge.

Even though Henry wasn’t here, in this unnaturally still body, Mike sometimes liked to take the opportunity to watch him, because Mike rarely got the chance to just look when Henry was . . . animated. For instance, Henry would tease him unmercifully if he caught Mike sliding a strand of Henry’s hair between his fingers, testing the softness of it, letting his eyes pick out the subtle shifts in color.

Mike pushed the sheet down and let his gaze move over Henry’s body. Henry really was a fine specimen of a man, Mike thought, as he took in the shape of him, hard muscle beneath satin smooth skin, and the uncut cock lying soft against his thigh.

Mike lifted Henry’s cock in his fingers. It seemed very strange to have it lie unresponsive in his hand. Mike stroked his thumb over the tip, and wondered, not for the first time, what it was that made Henry come alive when the sun went down.

Though Henry didn’t react to Mike’s touch, Mike’s own erection twitched against his belly, reminding him that it had been a long time since he’d been able to indulge in sleepy morning sex with a lover.

Mike slid his hand between Henry’s thighs, cupping his furred sac, and then up over his belly. He thumbed Henry’s soft nipples, which would normally be hard nubs at this point. He curled his hand over Henry’s shoulder, and stroked down his arm.

Mike imagined the sounds Henry would make at his touch, were he awake, and his cock throbbed. Mike touched himself, gave his cock a few placating strokes before he returned to his physical perusal of Henry’s body.

Mike touched the spots that made Henry squirm, and the spots that made him giggle like a schoolgirl. It wasn’t the same, with Henry lying so silent, and yet Mike’s body responded to the sense memory of it.

And part of him enjoyed the flutter in his belly at these illicit touches, as if he were doing something forbidden.

Mike moaned, and it sounded loud in the silence of their bedroom. He dropped his forehead to Henry’s shoulder as he stroked himself, his body demanding release. Mike pressed a kiss to Henry’s skin, and then he reached across Henry, held his hip as he rubbed against Henry’s thigh.

Mike slid up Henry’s body and pressed a kiss to his lips, his hips still rocking against Henry’s still form. Mike imagined Henry opening his eyes and looking right into his soul. His muscles went rigid, and then his hips jerked, and he spilled out all over Henry’s skin.

Mike went limp beside Henry, his head resting on the pillow beside Henry’s head. He reached out and ran his finger through the come pooling on Henry’s hip. He drew a line up to Henry’s still heart.

Mike studied the line of drying come, and then he spread the entire pool of come, rubbed it into the skin of Henry’s chest and belly. At the last, he curled his hand in a fist around Henry’s flaccid penis. Satisfied, Mike recovered Henry with the sheet, and then went to take his shower.

Henry would wake in about six hours, and the first thing he’d smell was Mike, all over him.

The End