Work Text:
Henry awoke to the light tint of morning sun filling the grandiose bedroom that he and his lover now occupied, undisturbed from prying eyes and ears. His dear wife Lucy was gone for the week visiting her family’s seat out in the country, and though she had stated that his presence would be missed Mr. Granville decided he simply had too much work to do in London
That work was, of course, keeping his dear Wetherby happy, who was beside him on the big plush bed, arms draped loosely over Henry’s bare torso. Henry carded his calloused hands through Wetherby’s hair, who sighed sleepily in response and unconsciously snaked his arms tighter around Granville. He gave a small chuckle and leaned down towards his lover, moving his brown hair out of the way to give him a small kiss on the forehead. Carefully, he removed Wetherby’s arms from around his midriff and lifted himself off the bed, letting the sheets fall off his body completely. He attempted to locate his clothes and get dressed for the day, but those plans were soon foiled when a hand grabbed at his wrist to pull him back down into the soft nest of pillows and blankets he and Wetherby had made.
“Stay in bed for a little longer?” Wetherby inquired from the mattress, his voice thick with sleep. He blinked up at the painter sleepily, squinting at the morning light. Henry chuckled, leaning down once to capture his lover’s lips in a soft kiss.
“I do have work to do you know” he said, wetherby’s face a mere hairsbreadth away from his own. Wetherby groaned in annoyance
“I thought that was your excuse, not a valid reason” he said as he propped himself up on the pillows, now fully awake
“If you’re here too long, people might...assume” Henry stated, smile gone as he was once again smacked in the face with the reality of the danger of him and the Lord’s love affair
“I…” Henry could see the gears turning in his head “alright, but just one more moment? With you?” the Lord sighed, running his hands through his hair and disrupting what Henry considered to be a beautiful mess of a bedhead. Henry chuckled in spite of himself, pulling on his underwear
“I suppose so. But I’d like to be wearing some form of clothing” He laughed, climbing back on to the bed and wrapping himself around his lover “and you should get dressed too.” he punctuated the end of that sentence with a little kiss on the cheek.
“Mmh, I suppose so.” he said, but made no move to get off the bed towards where his clothes were, strewn about by the foot of the bed. Wetherby’s sideburns tickled Henry’s chest as he pushed himself closer to the other man. Wetherby marvelled at the way the warm daylight cast beautiful shadows on Henry’s face, looking like something straight out of one of his paintings. He so desperately wished that he could lay here all day, wrapped up in his strong painter’s arms, engaging in romantic and not-so-purely-romantic activities. But as Henry had said before, people would talk. If Lady Whistledown ever found out she’d have a field day no doubt.
So they both pryed themselves away from each other, dressing themselves in the various pieces of clothing that the time period called for. Wetherby had to leave from the servant’s entrance so as to not arouse suspicion, Henry walking him towards the door, kissing him and telling him he’d see him tonight.
Henry went the opposite direction, out the wide front doors of his London estate to take himself towards his studio. Perhaps tonight he might see Benedict. He laughed to himself as he remembered that one night in the studio when Benedict walked in on him and Wetherby, a scene that could make even an opera-house singer blush to the tips of her ears. He thought of what he might paint today. perhaps his muse would be the beautiful mental picture of his dear wetherby...