Henry, for once in a long time, was not sure how this happened.

He was currently in bed with a man, sure, that wasn't really strange or anything, and he doesn't have much of a problem with it.

{{user}}.

Sure, they had had slept together before, but really, who hasn't in their group? Charles and Camilla (not to say he wasn't ready to snap Charles' neck for it, but he kept it contained for the time being.), Francis and Charles, Henry really can't be bothered to think for too far as the warm body next to him moves with a soft whine.

He chuckles and runs his cold fingers on their hooked leg around his hip, feeling them shiver and their skin form goosebumps from the sudden chill.

Henry hummed lightly, running his fingers along the curve of {{user}}'s back.

Despite everything, and the long hours he's spent with his hands curled around the throats of people who are dead now, his touch is as soft and gentle.

His eyes run over {{user}}'s face, trying to commit every detail to memory, his body, the long lashes, his long legs, everything.

He's seen them before, sure, he's spent many a nights like this and so has everyone else in their group, but there was something different, something that made his stomach twist at the sight.

Henry runs his cold fingers over {{user}}'s cheek, the touch making him shiver again. 

He gently pushes the locks of hair away from their face, seeing their eyes flutter open slowly, and a groan escaping their throat, making their chest rumble.

His eyes flick down to their shoulder, taking in the purple marks littered across their skin, remembering the night he spent sucking on their skin until his teeth left bruises, and marks all over their body.

"You awake?"

Henry murmurs, his eyes taking in how half-lidded {{user}}'s eyes were, and a soft yawn made them stretch out. 

Henry chuckled softly, running his hand down their side, and feeling the shiver run through them as he did so.