Innocent Lovers

It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song

You can't believe it, you were always singing along

It was so easy, and the words so sweet

You can't remember, you try to feel the beat

- Regina Spektor, "Eet"

Everything looked different despite the fact nothing had changed. Henry Townshend, lithe arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the counter, let his half lidded eyes wander aimlessly around the room. All the furniture and decorations of Room 302 were as they'd always been... a gently smug smile, tired and content, graced Henry's face. Nothing had really changed... yet it had.

The sound of a zipper had Henry turning his head slowly, as if looking to see who was there didn't matter - he already knew who it was. Standing in the hallway was Walter, hand on the collar of his blue jacket as he pulled it back on. Arms dropped; he glanced up through blood stained blond hair and titled his head. Henry nodded appraisingly, and that was all the approval he needed. A smile was Walter's reply; he took a few steps to the other's side, standing just by him so their shoulders brushed.

A hum of approval left Henry's throat as he closed his eyes and leaned his head onto Walter's arm. A content bliss, like coming down from a high, permeated his entire being. There truly was peace in Room 302 now. Peace, and the pleasant undercurrent of renewed hope.

Speaking against the puffy fabric of the jacket, Henry muttered, "... what now?"

An arm came up in front of him and took firm hold of Henry's opposite shoulder, pulling him into a sort of sideways embrace. The warmth in the room increased exponentially for multiple reasons. When Walter's chin came into his vision, Henry turned to nuzzle his jaw line.

"We live." The man stated, lips moving against Henry's forehead. "Well... in a way. It's a static and unchanging life; there's no future." Walter moved so that his chin rested on Henry's hair. "I suppose exist is a better word."

The head beneath his shook. "No... this is living." A relaxing sigh fell across the blond's neck. "This is the best I've lived my whole life."

"Henry! Walter!"

Eileen raced across 301's floor and practically leapt on both men, who happened to be side by side when she flew. Each man caught one arm and held the girl in a funny triple embrace. The three involved shared similar appearances of grins, laughter, or soft smiles, while everyone else in the room had the astonished deer in headlights look.

"W - What happened?" The question came from Jasper, who sat with his knees to his chest on the couch. "The worlds... they all f - feel different."

Still beaming, the three friends separated and Eileen kept a hand on their shoulders. "He's right. What changed?"

What didn't? Henry opened his mouth to reply, but the large hand on his arm stopped him. Surprised, he turned to face Walter's inquisitive gaze. He had a small smirk, eyebrow half cocked, a darkness in his eyes that belied mischief. Henry frowned knowingly. What are you planning? Another warm palm came onto his other shoulder, and soon he was being turned and pulled towards Walter, eyes widening in realization.

"You-"

The lips swallowed his words and his thoughts, and he was drawn away from the world, unable to hear the noises and gasps of those around them. It was only teasingly long enough to get the message across, leaving Henry irritated and wanting when Walter pulled away.

Stiff, bones locked, Henry avoided all eyes. But that nervous fear of rejection didn't last long: Eileen was soon flying at him again.

"Ooooh! Finally!" She squealed, hugging his neck tightly as he struggled to catch her. "I knew you two would get together eventually!"

"What's that?" Unable to help it, the brunet grinned, a happy blush on his cheeks. "You're squealing's made me deaf!" His sarcasm was ignored as more squealing joined Eileen's.

"About damn time, you foolish, silly little -!" But Cynthia stopped cursing to bellow with joy. To everyone's surprise, she sauntered over in her heels and pressed a light peck on Walter's stubbled cheek. When she leaned away, her eyes were surprisingly serious. "You'd better take good care of him."

The blond didn't even hesitate to nod. Eyes lightening, Cynthia grinned and turned to Henry. "Same for you, sweetheart." Then she pulled his head to her and shared another cheek-kiss.

With one hand on each man's shoulder, Cynthia leaned back and shared a slow growing smile.

"It can only get better from here."

Dinner made and enjoyed; movie on and playing. Walter sat next to Henry on the "love seat" (it wasn't really one, but it was so aptly named that by the giggling girls in the group). It was odd, sitting beside the other, bodies touching, hands entwined and resting on the gap their thighs created. The rush of freedom he received doing such a thing in front of others, not fearing judgement or analysis.

There wasn't much in his life Walter had done which had been free of condemnation or ire. Others watching him, telling him what to do and punishing him for wrong decisions; never was anything completely his.

The man's eyes danced to Henry: his head was limp on Walter's shoulder, eyes half shut and posture lax. So trusting... There were limitless ways he could destroy this man. Ways to torture, to draw out lingering agony, and no one in this room could hinger him. Why...? Frowning, Walter turned away from the heart rendering sight.

"Walter?" the soft whisper came. "You all right?" Nodding, Walter tried relaxing his pose again. Still his (boyfriend? loved one? victim?) seemed tense, eyes lingering on him.

Walter focused on not looking back, eyes staring at the movie but not watching at all. It was impossible to see or hear with all the thoughts swimming in his mind.

Why? Why? I don't deserve this... why would he want this? Why...

All his sense locked out but one: the ability to feel the gracious warmth of the relaxing angel beside him.

It was the strangest, happiest weak of Henry's life. Despite living inside a world of ghosts, a phantom apartment, with a bunch of odd spiritual companions (not to mention his boyfriend the serial killer), the brunet felt decidedly happy and free.

Free to reach over and hold Walter's hand without repercussion.

Free to let his eyes roam over the other's body, receiving only a soft smile when caught in the act.

Free to openly love a man. Walter Sullivan.

The thought floored him for a brief moment as Henry realized that yes, he was in love with Walter, had been for a while, and it grew stronger everyday. Heat flooded his cheeks but he didn't resist the urge to smile happily.

"Henry?"

The man jumped slightly, turning to see the subject of his thoughts approaching with a curious look. In one hand was a PS3 controller, the other a bottle of water. No matter that they were together, his cheeks still flushed pink.

"S-Sorry, coming." He closed the fridge, which he realized he'd been staring blankly into for almost five minutes, and left the kitchen with his soda. Walter only watched as he passed, eyes glued to the ground, but an arm came up and blocked his path.

"You all right?" Came the rough tenor near his ear, which always left him shivering. Perhaps he nodded too fervently or quickly, because when he looked up, Walter was smirking as if he knew. Henry frowned and shoved his arm out of the way, though it was hard to keep frowning when Walter laughed behind him.

With a roll of his eyes he sat on the couch, and watched as Walter approached. The man tried to pass between Henry and the coffee table, but the brunet set his legs up to impede him. The other chuckled and stepped over.

"So mature, Henry." His retaliation was to glare playfully as Walter sat beside him.

Temper tantrum temporarily forgotten, Henry turned to the game on the screen and stared. "LittleBigPlanet?"

Walter lifted the controller and began playing again with a shrug. The only signs of his embarrassment were the slightly lowered eyes and tense shoulder; Henry smiled and scooted closer, unfazed.

It was strange to see a man like Walter playing a whimsical game like this, but Henry was glad to see he was able to be open and relaxed. Sometimes he would play other things, but the more non violent games like Legend of Zelda, Spyro, and LBP were his preferred titles. It was kind of cute.

"Stuck?" Henry let his head fall on the other man's shoulder, watching as the Sack Boy on the TV attempted to make it through a wheel of death type contraption. The poor thing didn't move fast enough, flailing on an edge as the wheel spun before falling and being electrocuted.

"Yeah." The blond grunted, half annoyed and half having fun. "Russia's not a nice place."

"Hm," Henry could care less about the doomed Sack Boy; he turned away and rested his forehead against Walter's arm. "I always wanted to visit; you could take some beautiful pictures there."

All lives depleted, the blond lowered the controller and looked down at him. "... I would take you, if I could."

Surprised, Henry glanced up, taken back by the soft sincerity in Walter's face. A happy glow entered his eyes, as he simply moved forward and let his head fall into the man's inner arm. "I'm fine right here."

He couldn't see the man's reaction; but he squawked like a bird when suddenly two large hands grabbed his waist and lifted. In a flash, Henry found himself much warmer, leaning against something that moved slightly, his legs embraced by Walter's longer pair.

"W - Wha-?"

"I like you here, too." Walter replied as he let his head fall on Henry's shoulder, which was shaking from nerves.

"O-Oh..." Swallowing, Henry glanced down, trying not to focus on the wonderful sensation that was driving him mad, the warmth radiating from behind him. He took his chance when he saw the controller, snatching it up and restarting the game.

Walter didn't comment, simply wrapping his arms around the other's waist and turning to face Henry's neck.

"Hey," Though he was smiling, Henry elbowed Walter gently when the light kisses started. "D-Don't distract me, I'm trying to win."

"Consider it -" The lips contacted gently, then moved, "an added challenge." They landed again, this time lingering to suck and nip at the skin.

"The level's already - o - ooh - h - hard enough -"

Walter made it to the small gap under Henry's ear before the man turned to glare at him, eyes darkened by want, cheeks flushed, mouth open and panting slightly. Still, he acquiesced, letting Henry play unhindered.

Walter simply held him, breathed him in and out, becoming absorbed in all that he was. Part of him rejected that this could ever be happening, that he could ever deserve it, but another, larger part desperately needed it anyway.

"So, how are things?"

Henry usually enjoyed Cynthia's company: she was a very passionate and straight forward person who never held her tongue, and Henry was slightly jealous that he wasn't more like her. But, along with that, she was also easy to read and a bad liar. It was obvious that currently she had a double motive for visiting him, since she was perhaps as subtle as a tank.

The man shrugged to her question, sitting at Walter's desk with pen and paper in front of him, ready to be filled with prose or poetry or something. Currently that seemed unlikely to happen.

The Latina before him leaned against the wall, smiling, still waiting for a vocal response. He frowned.

"Can't you pester someone else?" He started, but that felt too harsh on its own, so he added, "Why not participate in your 'favorite pass time'?"

Shock covered her face, tinged with amusement, and Cynthia quickly burst into laughter at the closest Henry could come to making a dirty joke. "About that, well..." She smirked and winked at him. "All the good men around here are literally taken or gay, so there's nothing for me to do."

"You mean 'no one'."

"Henry you cheeky bastard!" She laughed again, hitting his shoulder. "Being with Walter has made you a dirty boy! I'll have to talk to him..."

"N-No!" Flushed, Henry turned in his seat and gestured at her. "That's a bad idea!"

"Why is that?" Arms crossed beneath her ample bosom (an instinctive thing she did when she wanted to get her way which really had no affect here). Cynthia grinned. "Afraid I might give him some ideas?"

In a way, yes. "I - just -"

The woman sat on a nearby stool and crossed her legs, and Henry couldn't help but think it was a new trick for her. When did I get so... so... mean? Or is it witty?

"Okay. How about I give you some ideas?" Even Henry's ears were pink now as he tried to stammer something resembling words.

"Cynthia -"

"How far have you gone?"

"W - W - W - no where! Nothing! None of your business!"

"Hen~ry" She pouted, shoulders slumping and lip upturned. "Throw a girl a bone, I'm only trying to help!"

Henry didn't want to have this conversation ever, anywhere, with anyone. Throat tight, he shook his head hard.

A sigh was her reply, and when he looked up, Cynthia had a surprisingly serious look. She stood, walking over, before putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Henry: truthfully, I do want to help. I know you might be nervous, but eventually you two will probably start getting somewhere, and out of everyone in this building, I'm the only one who can help you. I know you love him. Love usually leads to that sort of thing." Henry glanced down, realizing what she said might have some truth to it.

"B - But - I don't -" Sighing, he paused an gritted his teeth, trying to think. "Walter's so... I don't want to hurt him."

"Henry, he's a grown man. Yes, he's different, but if anybody can take care of him, it's you." She smiled softly. "I want to help. At least promise that if it comes to that, you'll come talk to me?"

After a moment, Henry finally nodded, with so much blood in his head he was dizzy. Cynthia seemed not to notice, patting his shoulder twice and smiling. "That's my boy." Then she turned, sauntering out the door, but not without looking back at the doorframe and smirking.

"Don't worry about it; it'll work out when the time comes." With one last wink, she was gone.

A note was taped to the refridgerator, and then Henry was off.

He needed time away, time to think, or maybe it was time for no thinking - for shoving away all the heavy things pulling him down. Whatever it was he needed it, like air, so there he was walking towards Toluca Lake with a vague idea in mind.

Today the sun was rose colored, shyly hidden behind a veil of clouds, with the water reflecting a grey-pink tint as it rolled against the shore. Henry stood right by the water, letting it wave over his ankles, and stared out over the surface. The fog was gone; he could see all the way to the craggy green rock formations on the other side, which became forests of tall trees, and a bit beyond it was a town Henry knew well. Silent Hill...

But he didn't dwell there. His eyes drifted back down to the water, deep and dark. How far down did it go? What was down there? Flinching, Henry turned away. He'd grown up around water, but after seeing the Prison Walter had grown up in, he couldn't help but remember the corpses of children when looking upon Toluca Lake... the man shivered. Coming down here was supposed to be relaxing...

Sighing, the man shook his head and sat in the sand, the water lapping at his thighs. He was such a serious minded person, even in death, and it didn't seem like a habit he would easily break. Staring out over Toluca Lake, he couldn't help but wonder if some of Silent Hill's evils dwelled below. He knew he and his friends were safe, tucked away in Walter's world, but what about those that weren't...?

"Uh..." Shaking his head, he pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. Apparently just being in nature wasn't going to be enough of a distraction. He smiled.

A moment later, he had divulged himself of shirts and shoes, throwing them up on the sand, opting to keep his jeans on out of modesty. Then Henry began walking out into the lake.

It felt like bathwater, not too hot or cold, sinking into his clothes as he waded out. It took a while for the ground to drop out from under his feet; by that time he was at least twenty feet out. Henry let his body float to the surface, bobbing on the waves as he stared at the sky. Sunlight blinded him for a moment, but once he started cutting the water with his arms, it fell behind the clouds again.

He began doing a lazy version of the backstroke, relaxing on the lake and focusing on nothing at all. He didn't worry about Walter, or his friends, or whether he deserved all this happiness he was being given... he just swam, and let the water caress him.

Maybe, because he wasn't thinking about what he usually did, a thought came to him unbidden, something he hadn't thought of in a very long time.

I wonder how mom is...

For the seventh time Walter wondered to himself why he was in Eileen's apartment.

He'd made a promise to himself (and verbally to Henry) that he would try harder to be closer to the other members of the apartment family, though that was easier said than done. Most of them still feared him, even if they had gotten over their anger and hatred, but with time things would get better. But talking and making friends... Walter snorted, crossing his arms. He couldn't do that. Only people could.

"Walter?"

He glanced up slightly through his hair to see Eileen's smiling face. "You all right?" He managed to nod, though the crinkle of her eyes meant she didn't believe him. Eileen walked over and leaned against the wall beside him. "What's up?"

He shrugged uselessly, eyes to the floor. Of course a moment later her brunette hair was in his line of sight. She smiled up at him. "Come on, that sad face won't go away by itself. You can talk to me about it."

"He misses his Henry, I bet." Cynthia approached them from the doorway with a martini in hand, leaning against the counter with a sly smirk. "Am I right?"

"Where is he, by the way?"

Walter nodded his head towards the wall, and Eileen frowned. "Well, why isn't he back here?"

Cynthia waved her hand dismissively. "I was just talking to him, he looked like he was working on something. I'm sure he'll be by later." Eileen cocked an eyebrow at her suspiciously, but Cynthia just smiled.

Sighing, Eileen returned her gaze to Walter. "You two aren't fighting are you?" He shook his head, eyes lowering.

Of course we're not fighting... Henry's so giving, and I would never want to hurt him... never again...

"I suppose we simply needed some space." He muttered, not really believing it, and he knew Eileen didn't either. But before she could complain again, Cynthia took her arm in a hold and began pulling her away.

"Come on, stop pestering the poor guy!" The Latina insistently pushed her away, ignoring her indignant complaints, as Walter watched with half interest.

The others in the room seemed to be enjoying themselves, gathered around the chip bowl and the coffee table, a few feet from Walter's antisocial position in the room. They were happy, and by all rights, Walter should be. So why wasn't he? Why did he feel slightly empty, a bit on edge, as if the best gift in the world was right on his finger tips but he couldn't quite catch it? Frowning, he clenched and unclenched his fingers.

It had started when he and Henry became... "an item", or something... the man flushed. It was so wonderful, he had no complaints... it just... lacked? No! Of course not, Henry wasn't lacking! But... maybe it was him. Maybe Walter was missing some vital part necessary for love; perhaps that was why he burned when he held Henry, when they kissed. When they touched it opened a throbbing ache inside him that persisted for hours, driving him insane, and he didn't have any idea what it was. Being around Henry made it worse, but when he tried avoided Henry, he just felt empty. Every kiss, every caress created a fire that simmered and burned until he was hollow inside, empty headed and twitching and nervous, unsure what to do with himself.

It must be his fault. He was broken, and now that someone finally loved him, he simply wasn't capable of returning it without this horrid pain. But Henry was worth any pain in this world, any at all... Walter still sighed, dropping his eyes.

"Walter?"

When he glanced up, the dark haired Hispanic was in front of him again. "Troubled?"

An irritated frown crossed his face. "I thought you told Eileen to leave me alone."

She smirked, hands on her hips. "I did, because she doesn't know what's bothering you. I do."

Surprised, Walter turned away, face red again. "..." Cynthia simply moved into his line of sight, eyebrow cocked.

"Come on. Talk to Cynthia. I think I can help."

Walter watched her glittering eyes, belied with some kind of secret knowledge, laughing with mischief... did she know something he didn't? With one last turn of his head, he finally gave in.

"It's... Henry. Or rather it's me. Something feels wrong..." He crossed his arms, that nervous feeling rising up again. For a moment he hesitated and Cynthia waited patiently. "When we... touch, we k - kiss... it feels lacking. Unsatiating. As if something's missing."

The woman 'hmmed', breaking into a grin. "OOh, you don't have to tell me. I know exactly." She wiggled her eyebrows, walking up with a sexy saunter. Walter noticed and frowned, backing up a little. It was a good thing the rest of the room was distracted, because the look on Cynthia's face was anything but innocent.

"Cynthia..."

"Hmmm... never said my name before..." her eyes became half lidded. Suddenly her hand reached up and touched his cheek, drifting lightly over the skin. Walter flinched away. "Don't be shy, dear... it'll feel good..."

"What the hell?" Two arms came around his waist, and Cynthia's assets were pressed hard against his chest.

"What?" She wiggled the eyebrows again, shoving her pelvis against his in a rough manner, which caused Walter to pull his waist back... but that only made his head lean closer to her's. "You don't want it?"

"No! I don't want this!"

"You don't want to have sex?"

Walter thought about that question. He knew the definition of the word, but the true action...? Color flushed his face. "I mean... I guess..."

"But you don't want it with me. So who do you want it with?"

Walter's brain shut down. The light of realization dawning appeared in his eyes dimly once, then twice, then the lightbulb appeared.

"Oh." Walter muttered. Then his eyes grew wide. "Oooooh."

The sexy look became a happy, beaming grin, as Cynthia backed away and laughed. "Took you long enough!"

"B - But..." Walter looked lost, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his hands. It all made sense now: he wanted Henry. Wanted to... have sex... see beyond the man's thin layers of clothes, the smooth, thin body... his hands on him, and Henry's on his... kissing more than just lips...

"Whoa, boy. Settle down." Cynthia laughed, recognizing the dark look in his eyes. "You're not with your soon to be lover yet."

The words sent a shiver down his spine - one of anticipation and fear. "But I..."

Nodding, the woman tightened her grip on Walter's arm, pulling him towards the hallway. "Come on, let's get out of here." Walter turned to stare wide eyed at her, about to back away. "What? Oh, no! I'm not giving demonstrations! There is a difference between sex with a man and sex with a woman!"

Walter flushed darkly, realizing that Cynthia's shout had drawn the attention of everyone else.

"Mom, what's 'sex'?" Little Walter asked.

"U - Uh..."

"Just come on!" Cynthia dragged Walter down the hall, shutting the door behind them, and thus the (completely verbal) lesson began.

Henry arrived home to find it empty, despite night quickly descending. Worry hit him a bit; but he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Everything will be fine. Walter could handle himself... he was probably out relaxing too.

The brunet, still a bit concerned, decided to try and distract himself from his earlier heavy thoughts and deep monologuing. Video games seemed like a good enough cure: he'd never played them as much during his life as he did now, and that wasn't because he suddenly had more free time. Somehow they had simply become more... fulfilling.

Maybe because now I'm actually paying attention to what they are, instead of just playing to keep from doing anything else. Henry had been replaying many old games he'd used to play, finding things he'd missed the first time which had been so very obvious.

Kneeling by the shelf, he scanned the games and decided on one he hadn't played in a while: Metal Gear Solid. He turned on the system, set it up, got a controller and collapsed onto the couch.

As he waited for the titles to pass, the Konami symbols to disappear, his thoughts wandered again, to earlier that morning, and the wake up kiss he'd received.

The soft, yet firm lips on his, which descended over his chin and across his skin, marking as they went. The trust in those touches, the surrender, as Walter opened himself up to him, both physically and mentally as a tongue devoured his mouth. It was dominating and yet submissive because Henry knew he was the only person Walter had ever shared this with.

The memories had him shuddering, eyes rolling back. Henry hardly noticed as the start screen appeared, hands trembling as they clutched the controller tight.

Suddenly, he groaned and shook his head, teeth gritted. He couldn't give in like this! It was... was... sighing, he wiped some hair out of his face and tried ignoring the throbbing between his thighs.

Pushing all else aside, he hit x, chose start game, and tried losing himself instead.

It did work, after a few minutes of trouble fighting his libido, but the game's story and gameplay were involved enough to keep Henry thinking about it and nothing else.

It was the story of a man named Solid Snake (whose history Henry was vaguely aware of, having once played the previous game in dark rooms, trying not to think at all) whose mission it was to infiltrate an island base and stop his brother from setting off nukes. At least, in simple terms, that was the story, as Henry remembered it from his previous play throughs. But now, no longer drenched in sorrow and half living, Henry could see he had missed quite a lot about this game.

It was enthralling, captivating and did set aside Henry's previous worries and stresses, letting him play with a light heart until he realized hours had passed since he'd began, and he was already well into the game.

It wasn't like most the games he played, since RPG's tended to be his forte, and sneaking through a military base was very strange for him, but it was fun. The characters were interesting, understandable... Henry found himself strangely attracted to Liquid Snake, the brother of the hero who was the antagonist of the game.

The british accent was a little strange, but he was a pretty cool character, who ran around in a trench coat with no shirt, revealing a well toned chest. The long blond hair was a rather nice touch, too...

Stop. Right. There.

"Aghh..." Face-palming, Henry gritted his teeth and realized he had just come full circle. The game, entertaining as it had been, had only delayed Henry facing the inevitable:

He was sexually attracted to Walter Sullivan, and the feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

There was no way to stifle it, to lock it in a box and never look at it again, because it was much too strong for that, and to even try would almost be disrespectful. A shuddering sigh, and Henry paused the game, setting the controller on the table and leaning forward.

Elbows on his knees, Henry let his head fall forward and his hands ran over his hair, gripping slightly. What could he do? He couldn't deny it... but he could never act on it! Shivering, the man turned his knees inward shyly as that familiar burn started between them. A gulp, the nervous biting of his lip, and Henry glanced down.

There, in physical form, was his problem, which he simply couldn't keep under tabs. So, what could he do...? Henry moved his hands a little, eyes flickering around the floor nervous. Each move his body made was stunted, jumpy. Slowly, his hands fluttered downward, hesitant and trembling.

His arms rested on his thighs, hands between them, as Henry tried steading his breath.

What the hell was he doing? He'd never done such a thing before... flushing red, Henry glanced away. Sure, he'd thought about it. But he'd never tried it... it just didn't seem... seem what? Right?

The brunet closed his eyes and sighed, finding in this moment another trait his father had instilled in him. It wasn't a "sin" to want pleasure, and it wasn't evil to give it to yourself. Determined to try this, to find a way to get rid of the desire without hurting Walter, Henry finally lifted his hand and moved it to the bulge growing beneath his zipper.

His hand rested on top of it, still, and nothing happened. Well. Henry rolled his eyes, pink to his ears. Of course nothing was happening yet, he had to actually do something. Mouth falling open, Henry tried putting thoughts together. What was one supposed to do when... when...

The hand slowly began pressing down. Henry jumped, and his hand flew away. Mouth agape, he stared at his hand. Was that feeling, like something electric was building in his crotch, was that normal? Had he hurt something, done something wrong?

For a minute he waited, and when he didn't started having a seizure or dying, Henry shyly lowered his hand and tried again.

This time, when his hand touched the jeans, he pressed, and didn't let up. Shivers raced from his boxers everywhere, radiating out like fire, and the man couldn't help letting out a quiet, "Oh..." This was nice. It felt odd, like he was being burned up from the inside, but it was a good burn, a warm ache.

Henry let up, then pressed again, receiving the same rush of tingling nerves, this time sending his legs into a fit. Knees weak, he leaned back against the couch and let his mouth fall open.

This was heavenly, but that didn't seem like the right word, because it also felt dirty, felt vaguely dark: sitting in his living room, touching himself shyly like a teenager hiding from his parents. Before he completely lost feeling in his legs, Henry decided to lift them and put his feet on the edge of the coffee table, spreading them a bit apart so he had more room to work with.

Glancing down, Henry saw the strain on his jeans getting worse, and in fact it was very uncomfortable, stiff against the fabric. Nerves rising again, the man let his tongue lick his dry lips. What now? He knew what, but the question was if he was brave enough to go through with it. Thinking that question deeply, lost in the heat and weighing his options, the front door opened and closed without his notice.

The man closed his eyes, breathing deeply in and out, hand trembling as it moved down his stomach to his jeans. He fumbled with the button, then the zipper; it took a while since his hand wouldn't stop shaking, and he couldn't make himself look. Eventually, he had done it, and lifted his back to pull them down a bit.

Still, he wouldn't open his eyes; it just seemed... well, he simply couldn't. Henry wasn't sure where most of his blood was rushing, his cock or his face.

"Nggh..." Slipping his hand under the band of his boxers, he grabbed hold of the fabric, pulled down, and let out a high pitched gasp as cool air hit his crotch.

"Ah! - a - ah..."

His eyes flew open, but he refused to look down, straining his back as his limbs trembled. Then, as his hand returned to its movements, Henry's head fell forward, moaning quietly in time, more talkative than he'd ever been in his life. This was... hand squeezing a bit, he jolted, legs slipping off the table and hitting it, but he didn't care. This was wonderful.

A thought hit him: ... what if Walter was the one touching him?

That made him pause, that horrid thought turning his bright skin a little paler. The touch of the one he loved desperately... that kind of wildfire would burn so much stronger. In comparison, the little sparks his hand was giving him seemed like dying embers.

But it was all he was allowed to have, all he could risk taking. A little pleasure was better than none. And surely it was okay... to pretend?

The hand squeezed again, and this time, eyes fluttering shut, Henry whispered a word.

"W - Walter..."

How would it feel if the hand touching him was his hand, stronger and larger than his own, moving in time with his breathing. Henry moved his hand faster, for some reason feeling urgent, sweat beading on his brow.

"Walter... w - walter..."

"Yes, Henry?"

In an instant as short as a millisecond, Henry felt an arm wrap around his back, moving to grip him under the thigh, and lift up. In an instant he was sitting again, this time on something warm, something human, a larger man's lap. In an instant, the hand touching his genitals was grasped by the wrist and pulled away, as a voice deep and thick whispered in his ear, wet lips brushing the lobe.

"Ahh!" Henry froze, horrified, unable to even move. This... this couldn't be... terrified at having been caught, the man tried to force himself free, but between the pants half on his legs tying him up, to the rod between his legs, it was sort of hard to maneuver. Not to mention the arms, strong as steel, holding his arm and waist.

Shivering and stiff, Henry shut his eyes and awaited what would come: perhaps anger, or disgust, or indifference. But then, the man wondered, why would Walter bother sitting down with him.. since... his naked ass happened to be perched on the other's legs?

"Henry" There came the voice, the one that haunted his dreams and nightmares, and somehow it seemed deeper than ever before. It was almost as if it was thick with... what? It just seemed...

The hand on his wrist released his arm, moving to cup his chin, turning his head towards Walter's. They were so close that the action had Henry's cheek pressed against Walter's. The blond kissed his cheek, a tongue slipping out of his mouth to lap at the skin.

"A- Ah..." Henry shivered, his cock jumping at the touch. "Y - You're not ma - mad?"

A chuckle, a broad grin pressed against his skin. "No, Henry... never. Not for this."

That was when the hand descended again.

It wasn't his hand, oh no; it was too large to be Henry's hand. It was rough with calluses from a gun, which scratched the itch better than Henry could ever have. This hand moved with confidence, up and down, surrounding his cock so easily Henry blushed anew. I ... am I not adequate?

"Uh... Wah..." Head lolling back, resting on Walter's shoulders, Henry gripped the jacket of the man behind him like it might save his life. This was insane, the way this pleasure owned you, controlled you, lifted you away and you just couldn't stop. He - He had to move, had to satisfy it, do something - with trembling hips and weak legs he tried arching up into the hand, but he didn't have the strength for it, only managing to stumble weakly back into Walter's lap. "Oooh..."

"Just let it go," The voice whispered in his ear, smug and thick with what Henry now realized was pleasure. Something hard was digging into his naked ass, and every little move he made brushed it against him - and he liked it. He could tell Walter did too, from the reddening cheeks and the growing grin. "Release yourself, Henry."

"A - ah!" There was something rising, something flooding out of his soul, which burned and soothed and ripped him apart. White flooded his vision and he might've screamed as the aching fire finally erupted and all his muscles gave out.

He collapsed against the heaving chest behind him, twitching and moaning for a few minutes more, the hand still caressing the last rivulets of release from him. Head turned into the neck of the man beside him, he tried speaking, but could only move his lips against the skin voicelessly. After it was truly over, the hand moved, two arms coming around his waist to hold him gently, moving over his chest appreciatively.

What the hell had just happened? What the... Walter. He was here, holding him, loving him, he... the hand that had given him such pleasure lifted to brush a tear from Henry's face. The white liquid on the fingers fell onto his cheek.

"Henry?" Walter glanced down at him, eyes furrowed. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Nodding fervently, Henry summoned all of his remaining strength, lifting his head the few inches between the two of them to place a kiss on Walter's lips. He fell back with a sigh, chest heaving, eyes lidded, and a sweet smile on his face. "L - Love you."

Walter stared, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Surprise was a funny look on his face, Henry thought deliriously, laughing heartily as Walter began to smile. The smile became a grin, and he wrapped his arms tight under Henry's shoulders, pulling him against him.

They remained that way for a while as Henry's laughing died down, both of them enjoying the warmth of the embrace. Henry rubbed his head against Walter's neck, pressing a light kiss against the skin, holding him as tightly as he could despite the laxness of his muscles. Walter's hand began moving circularly over his lower back, pressing him closer, the other hand lying against his outer thigh. At that point, Henry flushed scarlet, remembering his predicament and the location of half his clothes.

In response, he pulled his knees up a little, though they resisted, and he moved his hands to grab at his clothes. "Henry?" His fingers were loose, unable to hold the clothes, though he tried and was impeded a moment later by Walter. "What are you doing?"

"U - Uh...

A light sigh in his ear, before Henry found himself looking up at the ceiling and suddenly he was shivering cold and naked waist down. His first reaction was to pull his legs up and cover himself with his hands, but this was futile. The hands were pulled away with an angry growl, and then, the weight of Walter's body pushed his knees apart until they were touching, waist to waist. It didn't matter that Walter was still clothed, the friction alone was enough to have Henry moaning and shaking again, excitement returning. Flushed red, Henry bit his lip and glanced down.

Both his hands were pinned above him to the arm of the couch, as Walter leaned dangerously close, the jacket rubbing against his whole body in a way that had him jumping at every touch, hyper sensitive to this new realm of feeling. A warm, moist mouth fell on the edge of his chin, nibbling, and Henry couldn't help but moan. Everything was driving him nuts, pushing him to the edge all over again. "Walter..."

"Don't hide from me Henry." The man leaned away again, looking down from his eyes to his still covered chest, to where his penis was digging into Walter's thigh. "... may I...?" He nodded to the shirt, hands following its bottom edge, teasingly touching the skin. Henry couldn't help but rise up to the touch, though he shyly turned away.

"I - I..." Mouth dry, he moved his one free hand to grab the bottom of the shirt and pull it down tight. "But I..."

A groan of disapproval. "Don't say that." The arm holding his wrist squeezed lightly, Walter's eyes smoldering as he leaned in. "All I want to hear is a yes or no, and no belittling yourself."

Frowning, Henry glared down. "... no."

Apparently that wasn't the right answer, as Walter frowned angrily and lifted his hand from the bottom. Grasping the top, he pulled at the fabric until the buttons started ripping. Henry's eyes flew open wide.

"H - Hey!" He tried grabbing Walter's hand, but was nowhere near strong enough to stop him. Soon enough all the buttons were gone, and his shirt was parted, revealing his scrawny chest.

"I -" Henry glanced down at himself in shame, the look on his face almost childishly afraid.

"See?" Walter's voice was so low and thick Henry could hardly understand him. "... you're beautiful."

"What?" Henry's head flew up and he was red all the way down his neck. A bubble of laughter escaped Walter, who smiled at Henry's innocent surprise.

"You're completely red!" He laughed. Sure enough, when Henry blushed, even his chest turned a little pink. Realizing that, Henry tried to stammer something, hand moving to cover himself again. Once again it was stopped - this time because something else impeded it's way.

"Oh!"

A mouth had descended on his left breast, licking the soft skin there. It trailed in circles around the muscle, moving in, until teasing the nipple. Henry's back arched as the mouth surrounded the nub, sucking and pulling and dragging deep groans from the owner. "Walter! G - God..." It didn't stop there; he bit the flesh lightly, until it was blushing too, and then moved to repeat the process on the other breast.

"Walter!" Henry put his hand on the back of the man's head, holding the hair tight. "I - If you don't s - stop... I'm g - gonna..."

"That's fine." The man leaned away, smirking down at his work. "Don't hold back."

Henry's cock twitched at those words, but his mind rebelled. He knew, from the heavy weight against his inner thigh that Walter was enjoying this just as much as he was. But he wasn't getting any attention at all... Henry wanted to do something, to "return the favor" in a way... but what? Shivering as Walter's kisses traced his ribcage, the man felt his other hand being freed, letting it join his other on Walter's head.

"Walter..."

"Hmm?"

"Walter, stop."

Confused, the man leaned up to look into Henry's eyes, lips slightly swollen, his hair still held in Henry's hands. "Is something wrong?"

Henry let his eyes wander to the man's clothes. "Yes." He moved his hands to push lightly at Walter's chest, until he was sitting up, straddling Henry's legs. Henry tried ignoring the rushes of pleasure he got every time Walter brushed him, and somehow he managed. His fingers took hold of Walter's jacket zipper, and pulled. Walter gasped, and a hand rushed to grab his wrist.

"H - henry..."

Henry looked him in the eyes, brow furrowed, gaze strong. "It's only fair." He insisted, trying to pull again. Walter still seemed nervous, head falling down so his hair hid his face, but he didn't try to stop him. Henry pulled the zipper all the way down, revealing his toned chest beneath, scarred and beautiful. Almost worshipfully Henry traced the scars with his fingers, watching as Walter twitched beneath him.

"Henry..."

Henry's mouth replaced his fingers, kissing lightly on a raised line on the man's chest. He heard the intake of breath, the shuddering gasp, and smiled against the skin. He didn't let up; his mouth blazed a trail from scar to scar, moving downward, a teasing taste over the belly button, before reaching the waist line of Walter's pants. This was the moment where Henry leaned back, pausing, finding insecurity settling in again. He sat back a little, looking down on what lay hidden beneath the cloth, feeling his heartbeat rise.

"... hen - ry..."

Walter was rocking, like his chest couldn't stop seizing, kneeling on the couch with his hands gripping Henry's shoulders. His eyes were dark and lidded, mouth open, face colored bright red... more passionate and open than Henry had ever seen him. Whatever doubts he still felt were swept aside as he realized that, whether he succeeded or not, he had to try.

Henry's trembling hands found the man's zipper, and undid it slowly. Once again he heard his name whispered like a prayer and a question, but he didn't reply. He let his actions speak as he pulled the pants down, only slightly surprised to see nothing but bare skin beneath. Walter's rather large penis came into view and Henry realized he had so much to learn - about everything. But this wasn't the time to wax philosophical - if Henry couldn't stop thinking deeply NOW of all times, there really was something wrong with him.

He let his hands frame the man's waist, holding him. Tentatively, he opened his mouth, and leaned forward, pausing just above the darkened skin. His breath fell upon it and had Walter shaking already, eyes rolled back, chanting a mantra of his name as Henry gathered the courage to let his tongue travel the muscle end to end.

"NNnn... ah!"

He let it go up, then down, tasting the salty liquid building up on its surface, licking at the end and wondering why this wasn't disgusting at all. It felt less dirty and pornographic, and more like religious worship, a communion of sorts. Walter bucked towards his face, hitting his cheek, and Henry realized he couldn't stop there. His mouth parted, and with his hands he forced Walter to stay still (he couldn't completely stop him from moving but it helped). Then, he took the tip into his mouth.

"NN! Hen -"

It was heavy and thick, and too long to completely take in, but Henry kept moving forward, until he was halfway up and felt he would choke if he took any more. This too felt oddly different from what he'd imagined - less sexual, more personal - and he didn't even have to move. Walter did all the moving for him, gasping loudly as his hands moved from Henry's shoulders to hold tight to the back of his head.

"HenryHenryHenry-"

Thrusting into his mouth, Walter started to lose control, his deep voice growing deeper and repeating Henry over and over, and somehow the heat of the moment and their naked skin touching and the warm muscle rubbing against his tongue had Henry tightening again, stomach squeezing and below that everything was burning. He couldn't believe this was happening - couldn't believe he was doing this. His nails dug into Walter's thighs as Walter's hands pulled on his hair, his chest pressed against Walter's thighs as they moved together, kneeling on the couch that was getting dirtier by the second.

Henry came with a sigh upon his lover's cock, jittering and shaking as Walter still moved, feeling weakness settle into his bones. Only a while later, Walter came with a bellowing scream, letting everyone for miles know exactly who it was kneeling before him.

The liquid spewed into his mouth and for a moment Henry could handle it, but instinct had him flying back, releasing the muscle and falling onto the couch. The rest of it fell across his neck and chest, painting him white, as Walter convulsed, grabbing Henry's knees for support. His eyes, hazed over yet alive with so many things, met Henry's and the brunet blushingly realized where all this was supposed to go from here - from Henry on his back, knees parted, Walter kneeling between them, hands caressing his skin.

They met eyes and passed this knowledge... then it let fly by.

Walter gently pulled himself onto Henry's chest, as Henry moved a little to the right so he could have more room. Slightly side by side, slightly on top of each other, the exhausted men fell into a heap of blissful peace.

"Henry..." Throat hoarse, Walter said what he wanted with his eyes - wide, shocked, grateful, completely in love. Henry returned the feeling with a shy smile as Walter squeezed his hand tight, and they said no more.

They both fell asleep there, wrapped up in each other, with no where else they'd rather be.

Henry woke up and was hit by an immediate feeling of peace settling into his soul. No worries, no heartaches - nothing. No deep thoughts coming to bother his mind. Just... joy.

Blinking, he realized the source was still sleeping on/beside him, and his right arm was losing feeling. It didn't matter to him; Henry looked down on the man and something strange happened.

His face lit up - his mouth parted into a bright grin - his eyes burned bright - and he let out something that sounded like a squeal. He moved his arm to cradle Walter, squeezing him tight, letting his eyes fall shut again and his head fall onto Walter's shoulder. Everything was more than right with the world. Henry had found a treasure he'd never thought he'd deserved. Within minutes, he'd fallen asleep, sleeping dreamlessly but surrounded with an inner warmth.

An hour later, half awake, half asleep, Henry felt arms cradle him and he noticed he was moving - but he recognized Walter's husky scent, letting out a quiet moan of approval as his head fell against Walter's neck.

He found his body being settled into bed, and then the bed creaked as another body joined his. Still half asleep, Henry grunted and scooted as close as he could to the man, arms curled up close to his body, knees pulled in like a child. He didn't hear the deep chuckle, but he felt the arms coming around him, the blanket falling over his body. Once again he fell back into deep sleep.

Off an on, for hours, he fell in and out of wakefulness; sometimes opening his eyes to gaze on his lover, whose pale skin seemed healthier than ever, despite little bruises here and there, the swollen lips. Sometimes he felt Walter's eyes on him, felt a hand gently caressing his cheek or his shoulder, sometimes those poor lips pressing against his forehead. They slept so close together they were almost on top of each other again.

Night passed, and the sun rose, warming their skin, the two of them woken by it together. Henry's half closed eyes shyly averted down, a sheepishly happy smile on his face as Walter chuckled again and kissed his face multiple times in multiple places. He rose out of bed only to close the blinds, before settling by his lover again.

They went without food, because getting up to get it would mean leaving this cocoon they'd created, and really why would the dead need food? But this - they needed this. The warmth, the comfort and support, the soft repetitive breathing and the rising and falling of the chest. Henry let his head rest over Walter's heartbeat, comforted by the rhythm, sleeping with it in his ear. His usually curious mind didn't even wonder why the dead had heartbeats - it was sated and asleep too.

Night started to approach again and they were still in bed, now both of them awake, but lying together, limp and tired, happy and content. They talked a little in light voices, admitted desires and fears, asking nervous questions and blushing. Their questions both led back to Cynthia, and though in verbal form they both talked of her conspiring against them, mentally they both thanked her a thousand times.

More questions were asked, more things said, which led to blushing on one side or the other or both. Henry stuttered a little over some topics, while Walter mumbled incoherantly over others. They admitted things, and wondered things, and made plans to prepare for them in the future. Neither of them were ready yet... but they would be. One day.

The topic shifted to other things, varying greatly as their thoughts changed, and for hours as night fell they simply shared words with each other. If the doorbell rang, they didn't hear it. If the phone went off, they ignored it. Nothing existed outside of them.

Most might think spending all that time doing what seemed like nothing at all would be a waste. Most would get up, get moving, do something. Or, they would at least continue the actions started the night before.

These two cared little for any of that. They were dead, and had earned their right to eternal rest just by that fact, but they deserved it even more since their lives had provided almost no happiness at all. It wasn't eternal, but they rested together there, in an embrace they'd never shared before, with feelings they'd never felt, and happiness they'd never known seeping into their bones.

"Walter?"

The blond had been almost asleep again, but his blurry eyes opened to look at Henry. The brunet glanced down, suddenly feeling he was being very foolish, but a hand moved to caress his neck and encourage him. He looked back up.

"... thanks."

Smiling, Walter let out a chuckle, moving his thumb to run over Henry's lips. "I should be the one thanking you, Henry."

The brunet shook his head, moving forward to put his forehead against the others. "No, I mean it. Last night... if... you could have walked away when you saw me. You didn't have to do anything, and I'd have been left alone there, only happy in a fake way." Henry closed his eyes. "Thank you. If you hadn't approached me... I don't think I'd ever have approached you at all."

Walter waited until Henry had opened his eyes again. "... never? At all?"

Shyly, he shook his head. "No. I... I wanted you to be happy. I didn't want to hurt you; I thought my d - desire was horrible, that somehow I might hurt you." He was interrupted by a scoff, the hand on his neck moving to squeeze his shoulder. "I think I would have gone years yearning for you and being miserable without saying anything."

A deep frown, almost a grimace, settled onto Walter's face as he pulled Henry into a deep kiss, pressing hard and fast, before forcing his tongue into the other man's mouth. There, he dominated, taking control, sweeping across the roof of his mouth and his cheeks, pressing until Henry had fallen onto his back and Walter was above him. When they parted, both were panting, Henry red faced, and both of them were up for another round.

Walter's anger was still there, but he managed to smirk, leaning down to Henry's ear. He lick the rim, before letting out a whisper.

"I guess I'll have to make sure to bring you out of your shell, then." He muttered. "I won't let you hide this beautiful desire. I'll have my way with you, wherever and whenever, as much as possible, until you can't help but throw yourself at me when you lay eyes on me. I will torture you Henry." He leaned back so he could see the affect his words had, the dark, heady lust growing in Henry's eyes. "And you will love it."

And when he'd finished his little tirade, Henry was shyly nodding his approval, red all over, embarrassed beyond all else, but smiling.

Hi there!

I meant to post this much sooner, but I wanted it to be perfect and I kept changing things, yadda yadda, hope y'all like it. It's been a LONG time since I included stuff like this in a story, but it felt necessary here. And there will be more in the future, but there's still plot guys, don't forget about that. XDD So this chapter was pretty much just to sastify the inner fangirl in us all.

This second "arc" of the story will probably be more laid back than the other, but the darkness of Silent Hill will return one last time. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and there's more to come!

Sulhadahne