They find themselves the same way as last night without quite meaning to; backseat pressed around them, Riley on his back, Henry lying on top of him, heat pooling between their bodies like something that should be illegal.
The world outside the car blurs into nothing; the only sharp things are the points where their skin meets.
"Stop," Riley says as Henry leans in again, lips finding his like they've been magnetized. Henry's hand moves under the fabric, mapping the warm skin of Riley's ribs, fingers light and searching. "Weren't you supposed to go back to work?!" The words carry the surface meaning, but his voice says something different: an edge of invitation wrapped in a protest.
"Why does it sound like you don't actually want me to go?" Henry teases, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. He hovers so close Riley can feel the heat of his breath, heavy and close though they've only been kissing.
