Fuck. Gabe closes his eyes, tipping his head back. Fucking hell. He aches everywhere, inside and out. Henry’s hands drag against his skin, catching against scars; a familiar sensation, though without the bite of nails this time. Strangely, it hits deeper this way. The press of heat curling under his skin, drumming in time with his pulse. Everything churning. Killing what should be the threat assessment.

Even so, Gabe keeps his head. It’s not a fight, but this remains his choice. No one will take that from him. Not even the Hell magic that’s wormed its way inside.

Gabe’s breath hitches again, his hands twitching as Henry presses in. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, and it feels like riding a wave, and -

And for a moment, it finally edges onto too much. Gabe twitches, tightening his grip on Henry’s arm. He doesn’t—

Breathe out. Stay here, in this moment.

He breathes. It passes.