Abraham lay across the bed, watching Henry in slumber. It was the first time in far, far too long that Abraham had watched Henry this way. Most nights, he fell asleep over new legislation in the works or a trade agreement or the scraps of his latest argument with Mary. God, he loved the woman, but his nerves felt their share of torn edges with each passing day.
His only comfort was in Henry’s occasional visits, where they would talk strategy and The Union’s movements among the ranks of the Confederacy. They’d trip over their shared history and laugh about Abraham and Henry’s first summer together. Abe would find himself blushing crimson at the amusement with which Henry recalled their first night together and how nervous Abe had been. Henry had been his first everything, but he knew that Mary should probably be his last.
Still, all of the Shoulds, Probablys, and calls to duty could not seem to stop their visits. It didn’t stop the way Abe felt about Henry or the way that fire seemed to burn through his chest from the moment their lips met once the day’s work was through. He couldn’t get enough of Henry’s embrace or Henry’s mouth tight around his cock, pulling every aching part of him out until he cried out in release. The only thing in this life that bested Henry’s mouth upon him was his mouth on Henry. It was one of Abraham’s greatest triumphs to witness so composed a man fall apart under Abraham’s guidance.
Abraham was tempted to trace the outlines of Henry’s face, run his fingers over his eyelashes and down to his lips, the way he was able to do so with Mary after they’d frantically made love. He held his longings at bay with the knowledge that Henry was not only a ‘light sleeper,’ it would needlessly cast away Abraham’s opportunity to observe the seldomly seen. Perhaps he could wake Henry later with intent and a quick tongue where Henry liked it the most. But for now, this quiet moment was more than Abraham could ever ask for.