Free Bone Idol by Paige Turner

him down.
    Albert looked up at him, helpless and trusting, and Henry leaned over and kissed him.
    Then he whispered, “Turn over.”
    Albert’s trousers hadn’t been unbuttoned, but Henry yanked them down, not roughly but decisively, slightly reddening the skin of Albert’s buttocks. Albert mewled but remained with his face turned obediently into the cot’s rough blankets.
    Henry ran trembling fingers over his smooth skin, faintly warm where it had been reddened, pressing his fingers to massage the firm muscle beneath. He stripped Albert’s trousers down his legs, pulling them over his feet and folding them roughly before placing them on the floor at the foot of the cot.
    The hollow at the back of Albert’s knee was tender and vulnerable-looking. His bottom was rounded and slightly downy in the guttering lamplight inside the tent.
    Albert lay motionless except for a slight trembling that could have been from nervousness, anticipation or cold. Henry lowered himself gently over his prone body, careful to take his weight on his hands so he did not crush him. The cot creaked as he settled down on top of Albert and lowered his head to nuzzle at his warm skin. He buried his nose in the golden-brown curls at the nape of his neck and inhaled Albert’s clean, human scent.
    He kissed the side of Albert’s throat, nibbling and biting at the tender flesh as Albert’s breath quickened into rapid, excited pants, then he took the lobe of his ear between his teeth and nipped it sharply, eliciting a high cry and a wriggle.
    His erect cock fitted snugly into the hollow between Albert’s buttocks, his skin hot and moist. He was almost beside himself with desire, but even as he thrust against the base of Albert’s spine he said, “Albert, is this what you want? Are you sure…? Do you mean…?”
    “Yes,” said Albert. “Please… Oh, please…” and he fisted his hands into the scratchy blankets and pushed his hips up so that he was offering his arse to Henry.
    Henry’s mouth was dry with desire, but he worked up enough saliva to spit into his hand and coat his fingers. He felt both excited and horrified—an electric combination that made his cock stand up and made him want to run from the tent and into the desert, each urge equally strong.
    Albert wasn’t wanton—Henry knew from his reactions that he had no more experience than he had himself. But the way he offered himself up made him seem like a wanton.
    Tentatively, Henry ran his slick, spit-covered finger around the delicate pucker of Albert’s exposed arse. Albert shuddered and moaned.
    The ring of muscle seemed so tight that Henry could not believe, despite Albert’s muted cries of delight, that he would be able to push the digit inside without hurting him. But then it seemed to blossom and open, and he found his slick finger pushing into a velvety channel.
    He hooked his finger down as he dragged it back out, and Albert shuddered, moaning with a hoarse, needful sound Henry had never heard before.
    His own cock was hard, and as he took it in his fist he found it slippery and sticky. He gripped his erection and pulled, but he felt so excited—so close to his own crisis—that he shuddered and let go. He leaned in to Albert’s ear and whispered, “I want to put myself inside you. Albert… Albert…”
    And Albert just squirmed and said, “Yes,” and tilted his arse towards him.
    But Henry didn’t want to hurt him. He fumbled on the makeshift nightstand—another orange crate—knocking over an unlit lamp, sweeping his journal to the floor. His hand found a tin of Cheseborough’s Vaseline that he kept for making fossil casts. He often rubbed it into his hands when they were chapped and sore after long days of working with rock in harsh conditions.
    Henry coated his finger and stroked gently at Albert’s arsehole. The muscles contracted and Albert flinched. Henry stroked tenderly at the crinkled skin around the opening, stroking soothing circles on the boy’s