"One day," he muttered, hand sliding down to wrap around Lance's cock, stroking him slow and punishing.
"One day you're going to be mine completely."
Lance's back arched, a choked cry slipping out.
Henry's palms were rough, constantly pulling Lance over the edge.
"Nnnggg.."
Lance moaning lowly, his mind has blacked out but his body missed the feeling of being touched.
Henry stroked him until he came, trembling, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
Staring at the white streaks on his hands, Henry licked the bit on his thumb, staring at Lance with an expression that couldn't be described.
After that he cleaned him up, wiped his hands on a tissue, and placed Lance's phone on the wireless charger beside the bed.
Henry stood there for a long second, watching Lance sleep like nothing had happened.
Then he grabbed his jacket and left the apartment without another word.
Lance woke up sometime in the late morning with a sharp twist in his stomach.
For a second he thought he could ignore it, but then the nausea rushed up his throat and he barely made it to the bathroom in time.
He knelt in front of the toilet, throwing up until his entire body shook.
By the third time, he wasn't even drunk anymore. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted sour, and his throat burned.
He rinsed his face, sat on the cold tiles for a moment, then dragged himself back to bed.
The moment he lay down, fragments of last night came crashing back.
Walking into the private room. Sitting on the man's lap. Calling him rich and offering himself like an idiot. The contract he signed without thinking.
The money hitting his account. The name on the transfer.
And then Henry finding him in that state, yelling at him like he had lost his mind.
Henry pinning him against the wall and grabbing his neck. Henry's mouth crashing against his. His hand wrapped around him, stroking him until he couldn't breathe or think.
Lance pressed both palms over his face, heat rushing up his neck as the memories stacked one over another.
How did all of that happen in one night?
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His phone buzzed from the charger beside him and he glanced at the screen.
The Venmo notification was still there, taunting him with its cheerful confirmation.
Four hundred thousand dollars. Sitting in his account.
He let out a weak laugh and dropped the phone onto the sheets.
He had basically sold himself to a billionaire while drunk.
And let Henry… do that to him.
He lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
Was it a crime to go out drinking now.
His stomach turned again, but this time it wasn't from the alcohol.
It was from the realization that his life had just changed completely, and none of it was planned.
He exhaled slowly, covering his eyes with his arm.
"Today's going to be hell.." he muttered.
Lance lay in bed for a long moment, staring at nothing, before dragging his phone closer. His thumb hovered over the manager's contact. He typed a short message.
He said he had to go to the bank and couldn't come in today.
The reply came almost instantly.
That was fine, but he wasn't getting paid.
Lance didn't even care. It wasn't the bank he wanted to avoid. It was Henry.
There was no universe where he could walk into the café today and pretend everything was normal.
Not with what happened last night.
He dropped the phone on the bed, then picked it up again and opened his banking app.
His hand hovered for a second before he finally sent the transfer.
Three hundred and fifty thousand, straight to his mother's account.
The extra fifty was supposed to be for him. To look presentable for Ansel on Friday.
The phone vibrated almost immediately.
It was his mother calling.
Lance stared at the screen and didn't answer.
He couldn't. Not yet. He needed a believable lie before he picked up.
He couldn't tell her he sold himself to a billionaire in a private room at a bar after wandering in, drunk.
He threw himself back on the mattress and dragged a pillow over his face.
He needed to think.
He needed to breathe.
He needed to figure out how to survive both Ansel on Friday and Henry, who was definitely going to confront him the moment he stepped into the café again.
Just how long did Henry have feelings for him? Was it a recent thing or…
He shook his head, he didn't want to think about it.
He liked Henry at some point, everybody had a crush on Henry, but he didn't want to ruin his friendship with Henry so he let the feelings go.
That should be their last year in highschool, he was like a lovesick puppy it was kinda funny Henry never noticed it.
Oh the things he wanted Henry to do to him then.
But that was in the past.
It's been six years and he only saw Henry as his best friend now, he didn't want to get down and dirty with him plus Henry wasn't his type anymore, six years ago it was nerds but now, now he was ready to bend over for an older man.
Lance got up from the bed, grabbed his phone and went to the living room.
Enough talk about Henry or Ansel Lowell, he needed to think about breakfast.
He couldn't even remember if he even had anything to eat yesterday.
He walked to the fridge, not for the sad contents he'd probably use to make breakfast but for some water.
After all the puking, his throat felt dry.
"Henry will probably be here after work, well..that's if he decides to stay when I'm not there…"
Judging from his gut feeling, Henry would be here any minute now.
He grabbed the water bottle and walked to the couch, he turned on the TV and sat down.
Before he goes out to get the groceries, he might as well enjoy some Grey's anatomy.
The new season just aired, season 19 just aired and he had been so busy with work but now that he's got a free day.
Why not.
He clicked the first episode and leaned back, only to hear the door bell ring.
"…"
"Lance, you home?"