"Fuck," Gabe hisses, arching his back at the sudden press of nails. It's not enough to draw blood but it's a distraction, that familiar bit of sharpness to draw him further and further into the moment and away from his own thoughts. Henry goes tight around him but Gabe manages to breathe through it, to hold himself back.

Barely.

He holds for a moment, slowing his breathing down, and just presses his forehead into Henry's shoulder.

Fuck.