Chapter Text
“Hi Stranger,” June says happily. In the background, Nora eats guacamole by the spoon.
Alex grins at his laptop, overjoyed to have finally coordinated a moment to sit down with his two favourite people. They’re only five hours apart, but between their work hours and busy weekends, it’s been difficult to pinpoint a time for all three of them to jump on a video call and catch up properly.
“Hey, Bug,” Alex smiles wider, “Hey, nerd,” he says to Nora.
“Hey, sh*thead,” Nora sing-songs, plonking down next to June and handing his sister her water bottle. “Glad to have finallyyyyy caught you,” she raises a perfectly manicured brow into the laptop camera, expectant.
“I’ve been busy,” Alex defends. “You know the drill. Wake up, grind, sleep. Repeat.”
“First of all,” June says, “Never say that again. In any way whatsoever. Ew. Secondly, remember how you looked me in the eye and promised not to do that?” She gives him a severe look.
Alex is just glad there’s a laptop screen and thousands of miles - sorry, kilometres - between them. There’s no way he’s ever telling June about his first month in London and the crazy hours he had pulled, or the abject loneliness he had suffered from. She’d both kick his butt and fuss over him to no end. The pain of missing her strikes him deep in his chest as she narrows her eyes through the screen.
“I was joking,” he tells them, pouting. “What about you guys though? Tell me about home.”
“It’s the same as ever,” June shrugs, glancing at Nora. “Mum schedules video calls and tries to visit every month if she can find the time. Dad’s last flight here got cancelled at the last minute, though. Apparently some negotiations fell through.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex winces, knowing how close June and his dad are. Alex and Oscar are close too - they’re father and son after all - but June has always been that little bit more like their dad. A little bit softer natured, and easily liked. On the other hand, Alex and Ellen are known for their impulsivity, hard-headedness and workaholic natures. It had been a source of many blows throughout the years, both between Alex and his parents and, sometimes, even Alex and June. Alex has very deliberately committed to not pointing out the similarities between June and Ellen to keep the peace.
June shrugs. “It’s whatever. He’ll make it next time. Nora’s parents are flying in soon, though.”
“Accepting thoughts and prayers for that one,” Nora chimes in, grimacing. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her parents - they’re just a lot. Alex had stayed with them once when they had travelled to Vermont, the cloying scent of essential oils infused into every surface and her mum’s constant insistence that he needed to leave his textbooks alone and “chill out” had driven him up the wall.
“In that case, accept my sincerest thoughts and prayers,” Alex tells them mock seriously. Out of the corner of his eye he notices his phone light up. He grabs for it immediately, tapping the screen before it dims.
Henry 🥊
f*ck - Anakin Skywalker
Marry - Poe Dameron
Kill - Lando Calrissian
Your turn.
Alex’s words die in his throat as he stares at the text, his mouth twisting in amusem*nt. Wrong. So wrong. Just like his movie opinions, Henry has a poor taste in characters. Characters he would f*ck, anyway.
wtf is wrong with you
killing Lando Calrissian?
but f*cking the actual bad guy???
Fox …. U disgust me
“Earth to Alex?”
Alex’s head shoots up at the sound of his name. He blinks at Nora and June; they’re closer than before, heads together as they squint through the screen. “Is that… a smile?” June asks.
“A flirty smile?” Nora adds.
“No,” Alex defends.
“Who are you texting?” June demands.
“Don’t tell me you actually text people other than us,” Nora says, pressing a hand to her heart and pouting exaggeratedly.
“Is it someone from work?” June asks, eyes narrowing.
“Is it someone specialllll?” Nora questions slyly.
“No,” Alex protests, more emphatically this time. “It’s just a text from a friend. God. I forgot how f*cking nosy you guys are.”
“The manneth doth protesteth too much, methinkith,” Nora says wisely. June rolls her eyes at her fiancée, a smile pulling at her mouth. Alex isn’t as amused.
“Shakespeare just rolled over in his grave,” he says flatly. Alex should know. Henry had yapped enough to him about Henry V last week; he's basically a certified Shakespeare aficionado now. He had hated (loved) every second of it. Unbidden, his gaze flicks down again and his eyes catch on Henry’s name.
Henry 🥊
Dick from toxic men, Alex.
Dick from toxic men.
well now i need to know the story (stories?)
“Jesus tit*,” June exclaims. “Should we reschedule?”
“No!” Alex says hastily, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Regretfully, he turns his phone over so he can’t see the screen light up. Already, his brain is firing on all cylinders, puzzling out what Henry might mean, half overcome with an itchy feeling inside his chest and half tempted to ask June and Nora for clarification.
“Well,” Nora says, more guacamole on her spoon. “At least he’s made friends. I feel like a proud mum, watching my little chick take flight from the nest.”
Alex rolls his eyes at her antics. She might have a point though. Whilst he’d made some passing friends during law school, June and Nora have always been his best friends and his rocks. Keeping friends was unfortunately something he struggled with, for a whole host of reasons he prefers not to ruminate over.
“Are they a work friend?” June asks curiously.
“No,” Alex says, his right hand itching towards his phone. At the back of his mind, he’s still wanting to pick Henry’s brain. “I, uh, actually I’ve taken up a new sport. I’ve been waiting to see if I stick with it, before I told you guys.”
“Oh!” June brightens up. “That’s so great, Alex! Does it have something to do with that gym you keep posting on your Insta stories?”
“Oh thank god,” Nora says, shoulders slumping. “We were worried you were becoming some gym dude bro; that when we saw you next you’d be jacked up with gyno nipples.”
“Nora-” June hisses, elbowing her. Alex snorts.
“I told you guys Jenny suggested some sort of social sport, you know, to help me find my feet and meet some people over here. Well, I wanted something that fit in with work and I decided to try boxing,” he explains quickly. Talking about going to therapy still made him feel more vulnerable than he’d like. Even if it was just with June and Nora. He likes to jump over the topic, even though he’s sure they wouldn’t push if he asked them not to.
“Boxing?” Nora asks, spoon halfway to her mouth. “You’ve never been interested in boxing. You called it needlessly violent.”
“That was the UFC,” Alex interjects, immediately defensive.
“Isn’t it the same outcome?” Nora quirks a brow. “You hit someone. They go down. Repeat.”
“Boxing isn’t just about hitting other people. It’s about discipline, strategy and strength,” Alex tells her, fighting back irritation. “Self-improvement is really championed at the gym, none of that toxic masculinity bullsh*t. And I’m finding it really helpful for stress relief and my anxiety.”
June’s expression softens; Nora’s smoothes into understanding. “I’m proud of you,” June tells him sincerely. “For trying out something new. You look healthier too - not so tired. Your skin is brighter.”
Alex bites back the urge to tell her it’s not the boxing doing that but a combination of amazing sex and some peely face masks Henry had told him about. That’s not something he wants to discuss with June. Or even Nora just yet.
“June is right,” Nora says. “I’m proud of you too. What’s the gym called again?”
“The Fox Den,” Alex supplies quickly. “I go four or five times a week. There’s a beginner class which I started out at for a while. But, I was actually recently invited by H- by my instructor to the intermediate class on Saturdays too. I’d like to get into the purely sparring class soon, though-”
“Alex!” June admonishes. She’s looking over Nora’s shoulder, who Alex now realises has glee etched across every inch of her face. “That all sounds amazing, but more importantly, who is that man with his arm around you?”
Alex grimaces. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. He already knows exactly what photo they’re talking about - another one uploaded by Pez last week of them all post-training, a caption beneath inviting new members along. Alex looks good in it, he admits. His hair somehow looks effortlessly messy rather than like a rat’s nest, and the light hits the planes of his jaw, shoulders and clavicles just right. He’s standing on the end, the product of being pulled at the last minute.
Henry, though… Henry looks every inch a Greek god. His sky blue shirt brings out the colour of his eyes even from a distance, and his workout shorts cover barely half of his shapely thighs, his long legs on clear display. His arm is slung around Alex, pulling him close, a wide smile spread across his entire face. Since that first Instagram picture Pez had uploaded, Henry has permitted himself to be drawn into more and more pictures for the gym’s social media.
“That’s Henry,” Alex tells them, trying to fight down a blush. “He’s uh, actually the person I’m texting.”
“Shut up,” June gasps, “Shut up, shut up.”
Nora looks like she both caught the canary and ate the cream. “Well, well, well,” she says, raising her eyebrows expectantly at Alex. “Care to spill, Alejando?”
“There’s nothing to spill,” Alex lies through his teeth. “He’s one of my instructors.”
“Oh, okay, sure,” Nora says, narrowing her eyes and swiping up on her phone. “Nothing-” she shows another picture from the gym, featuring the Saturday session-goers. Alex and Henry just so happen to be beside each other again - it’s meaningless. Innocuous. “To-” Nora shows another picture, this time with Alex and Henry smiling at each other in the background, Shaan and another fighter in the foreground. “Spill.” Nora shows one last picture, Pez standing between them, but Henry’s eyes are on Alex, whose head is tilted back in a laugh. Pez’s phone and the gym’s Instagram account are a dastardly combination.
June and Nora fix Alex with an expectant look. Alex ignores it entirely. “Anyways, so great of you guys to take interest in my physical and mental health,” he chirps, glancing down at his phone. He quickly types out a hurried:
Henry 🥊
Luke Skywalker
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Han Solo
“We take interest ineverything,” Nora says firmly. He glances back up. “Just so you know. Physical. Mental. Social. Sexual-” There’s a yelp as June whacks Nora with a couch pillow, shaking her head and grinning in amusem*nt.
Alex’s heart hammers in his chest. The admission sticks to the roof of his mouth as he opens and closes it. But it’s June and Nora - his sister and his best friend. His family; the only people he entirely trusts in this world. Besides, he wants to tell them. Badly. He drums his fingers on his knee as the couple squabbles, trying to tamp down the anxiety uncoiling inside his stomach.
“Okay fine!” he bursts out. June and Nora stop their play fighting and turn to him automatically, all ears. Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I may have … kissed Henry.”
“Oh, no sh*t?” Nora perks up immediately, grinning like a madwoman. Her expression doesn’t waver as June shoves a pillow in her face.
“Aye,” June says appreciatively, sending him two finger guns. “He’s so handsome. Get it.”
Alex co*cks his head to the side and surveys them, confused. He had been expecting something different - more fanfare, perhaps. Sure, he had never been shy in complimenting or looking at people regardless of gender, but this was kissing. “You’re not … surprised?” he hedges.
“I mean,” Nora shrugged, “Should we be?”
“What does that mean?” Alex asks, his heart thumping in his chest.
“It means,” June says, cutting in and shifting closer to the computer. Her face is kind, if a little amused. “I’ve been waiting for this conversation since your crush on Liam.”
Alex almost chokes on his tongue. He straightens up, completely forgetting about his phone and almost upending his half drunk coffee over his keyboard. “What!” he squawks indignantly. “What is that supposed to mean? You knew?”
“Alex,” June says reproachfully. “You have the subtlety of a sledgehammer.”
“And the brain of one if you think we-” Nora gestures between the two of them, “Didn’t figure this out years ago.”
He blinks rapidly, recalibrating his life around their admission. “I-” he starts, a wave of annoyance crashing over him, quickly followed by confusion. “Y’all suck. What the f*ck.”
“I’m sorry!” June apologises, hands up. “I didn’t want to bring it up; I didn’t want to assume or have a conversation you weren’t ready for. I just- You didn’t seem all that phased by the Liam thing, though…”
“Because I didn’t know it was a thing!” Alex says exasperatedly, tugging at an errant curl by his temple.
“You-” Nora claps her hand over her mouth and snorts. “You what? Oh - sh*t. You didn’t … realise?” June elbows her lightly.
Alex shrugs helplessly at them. “No?” He says it like a question. No, he hadn’t realised. He had been drunk most of the time with Liam; horny too, and so what if he thought his best friend was hot and wanted to touch his dick about it?
June and Nora didn’t even know about that part though, so the realisation that they’d managed to work out emotions Alex himself hadn’t realised he was having through observation alone is a … humbling one.
“Okay, okay,” June waves her arms in front of Nora who has opened her mouth to speak again. “Stop, stop, stop. Alex,” she turns to him, her expression placating. “You kissed a guy. Is there anything else you have to tell us?”
“Uhhhhh,” Alex draws it out, turning the label over and over in his head. Saying it out loud isn’t precisely scary or foreboding, it’s just … different. He’s only said it out loud to one person so far. Henry. He takes another breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m bisexual.” There. He opens one eye to see their reactions.
June is giving him that proud big sister look - the one she wore when he was six and rode a bike without training wheels for the first time, the one she wore when he got valedictorian and rattled off his killer speech without messing up once. “I’m proud of you, lil bit.”
Nora on the other hand is grinning again. “Welcome,” she tells him grandly. “It’s true, we do have more fun.”
—
Alex tries not to use his phone during work hours. He has a work phone for office use and any incidental out-of-office meetings. Putting his personal phone away is good for focusing anyway; a physical manifestation of him separating his work self from his social self. His family and friends have his work number if there’s an emergency.
But … he’s been breaking his own rules as of recently. He should care more than he does. He’s not a teenager anymore sneaking texts to his high school girlfriend during maths class or in the dead of the night. He’s a lawyer with a high caseload and clients relying on him. They’d probably pop a blood vessel if they knew their lawyer was currently playing a long running game of f*ck Marry Kill with his friends-with-benefits.
Henry 🥊
One does not simply not f*ck Boromir if they get the chance.
ur only saying this bc saying Legolas is narcissistic
Am I not allowed to want to f*ck other long-haired blondes?
no. thats my job. get ur own
Aragorn?
six ways to sunday
no but
who would win in a fight
Boromir or Aragorn?
Aragorn, obviously
obviously.
but I have THOUGHTS
Pray tell, what are these thoughts?
“Alex?”
Alex almost jumps out of his skin. Zahra stands before him, her long brunette hair straightened and glossy, her pinstripe skirt and blazer combination immaculately ironed. He tries not to look guilty as he switches his phone off and places it face down on his desk. “Yes?”
“Is it important?” she jerks her head towards his phone. There’s no suspicion or annoyance in her voice. He almost sighs out loud in relief.
“No, no,” he says quickly. “Did you need something?”
She puts her hands on her hips and surveys him with pursed lips. “You’ve done good work since you got here,” she says abruptly. “Your diligence and dedication have been noted. I’m going to transfer you some new files.”
Pride and gratitude heat his cheeks. He tries not to smile - to maintain his professionalism in front of the consummate professional that is Zahra Bankston. “Thank you,” he nods. “I appreciate it. What are these new files?”
“A few smaller ones,” Zahra says dismissively, “More exciting than your average lessor-lessee dispute, though. There’s an interesting defamation one you might like.” She drums her fingernails on her arm and surveys him closely, dark eyes narrowed. “I know you cited an interest in international arbitration in your application. I’ll see if Laura can bring you in on one or two. She got another big one just last week.” She taps her fingers twice on his desk and then she’s gone, stalking off. Always a woman of few words.
But those few words are enough to buoy him. Knowing Zahra’s personality, he may as well have just received a standing ovation. He turns back to his screen and catches the eye of Sabrina over the top of the cubicle divider. They grin at each other, not daring to exchange words in the semi-open plan space their desks sit in.
Alex already has a lot of files to juggle, but he’ll be damned if he can’t learn to juggle a few more. He’s good at his job - he knows he can do it.
—
Alex’s days pass by in a blur of meetings, trips to the coffee machine and sitting for hours crouched over his desk with his headphones turned up high. And texts from Henry; dozens and dozens of texts from Henry.
On Tuesday Henry regales him with his encyclopaedic knowledge of sailboats. He isn’t impressed when Alex admits his own knowledge of sailing - and boats in general - is confined to knowing what port, starboard and windward means. Even so, Alex diligently reads his stream of texts and lectures about angles and telltales and knots, and tries to send something more than cool back. After all, he might not care about sailing but he does care about talking to Henry.
Then, his fairly quiet Wednesday afternoon is also turned on its head by a Henry text.
Henry 🥊
The strangest thing just occurred -
a street photographer asked if he could
photograph me.
send a pic
send
send
send
send
send
(picture: a mirror selfie, Henry’s face soft,
his broad shoulders covered by a dark brown jacket,
whilst underneath he wears a white turtleneck,
flared fawn trousers and dark coloured boots).
For no reason at all, Alex immediately decides he needs to take the elevator down to the ground floor for a mid-afternoon coffee. The coffee machine on his level just doesn’t hit the same as a barista made brew and he needs a moment to … breathe.
very i have a masters in english lit
try a pattern or some colour next time
Thursday has Alex texting back and forth with Henry during his morning commute, complaining about all the unspoken court formalities he’s still adjusting to and the stringent civil procedure requirements that are driving him completely crazy. He just doesn't understand why the UK legal system has to be so f*cking archaic about everything. He tells Henry as such, unable to hold back from barraging him with every single complaint on his mind now that he’s started. It’s clear Henry doesn’t entirely understand, but he lets Alex rant anyway and his have a good day x has him walking into his building with a pep in his step and a bright smile on his face.
The following morning, Alex is up at the crack of dawn flicking through his t-shirts to choose what to wear for the day. He doesn’t have client meetings or court today, thank goodness, so he can choose whatever business-casual attire he wants. Unfortunately for Alex, whilst he is very much sticking to his work and boxing routine, his apartment routine is suffering a bit. Including doing his laundry.
He tugs at what looks like a plain black shirt, hopeful that with a muted jacket it’ll work for the day. He can’t always be the best dressed and best looking guy in his office, he has to give someone else a turn from time to time.
As it turns out, it’s not plain black and it’s definitely not safe for work. He may have gotten a tad overzealous when ordering graphic tees for the gym.
Printed on the front in sparkly pink capital letters are the words OVERWORKED AND UNDERf*ckED. Alex grins immediately, an idea popping into his head. He quickly pulls it on and bounds over to his mirror, toeing his pile of clothes out of sight and whipping out his phone.
Henry 🥊
outfit of the day
what do u think
I think that there’s every chance you’re about to be written up.
smh
admit it u find it hilarious
Offensive, actually.
Underf*cked?
u wanna do something about that?
I thought I had. But if I haven’t, I shall rectify that posthaste.
—
The Fox Den’s quarterly gathering takes place Friday night at Monty’s.
Alex had peeled off from after work drinks with Sabrina and a handful of their other work friends just before 7:00pm. Now, he stands outside the dive bar and its rough brick exterior and glances at the boxing group chat to double check he’s definitely in the right place.
The Fox Den(izens)
Alex
I’m outside Monty’s
Anna
Ayeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
Ro
Alllllexxxxxxxxx
Jackson
Coming
The front door opens and Jackson steps out in a navy button-up and fawn trousers, dark hair quiffed stylishly. “Hey!” he greets enthusiastically, clapping Alex’s hand and dragging Alex forward with a laugh.
“Hey man,” Alex accepts his friendly hand gesture and grins broadly back at him.
“Get in here, you’re the last one,” Jackson says, gesturing for him to follow. Together, they step into the low-lit bar, the thump of music and chatter hitting Alex’s ears. They work their way through the seating area until they reach the back room, a relatively tight fit for all the gym goers that had turned out for the third social event of the year.
“Alex!” comes a chorus of voices as he steps inside. Warmth spreads through him as Sydney, Anna and Jess embrace him one after the other.
“What’s up, what’s up,” he says in turn, smiling broadly as his eyes wander about, taking in the crowd. There’s a few faces he doesn’t recognise - he supposes they must be from the morning classes - and a few that are less familiar who might be the amateur fighters. He immediately clocks Pez, Henry and Shaan in a corner, heads bent together. He quickly glances away and back at the group in front of him.
“What do you want?” Jackson asks him quickly. “There’s a tab. I’ll go get us something to drink.”
Alex tells him to get whatever beer he’s having and allows himself to be pulled down at a table. He shrugs off his denim jacket and leans back, smiling as the group launches into a run-down of what he’s missed so far. Alex has always been well-liked and found himself at ease in group settings; he just hasn’t found that he can be entirely himself in group settings. The Fox Den has changed that.
He has no qualms jumping into a rather in-depth discussion about the latest Bridgerton season and waving his hands about as he does. Jess matches him across the table, almost upsetting her long island iced tea into her girlfriend’s lap. There’s one thing they agree on though - Kanthony is without a doubt the best ship of the show.
An hour later Alex realises his glass is somehow empty. He can’t remember taking a moment to catch a breath, nevermind taking a sip. He mimes a bathroom trip and slips out of the room, taking a pit stop at the loo before heading toward the bar and ordering another beer. A lighter one this time, something distinctly more American.
He takes a sip before making a zig-zag between other patrons, careful not to spill his beverage. Boxing might have improved his hand-eye coordination, but he’s still a little clumsier than he would like to be. He’s concentrating so hard on making sure his beer doesn’t spill over the lip of the glass as he re-enters the room that he almost walks into Henry.
Thankfully, Henry reaches out and steadies him, his hands closing around Alex’s forearms. Alex glances up, apology sticking in his throat as he meets Henry’s big blue eyes and crinkly smile. “Hello.”
“Hey,” Alex says immediately, acutely aware that this is the first time he’s seen Henry out of workout clothes in the flesh. He had looked amazing in the picture the other day, but now, standing no more than half a foot away from Alex? He looks too f*cking good to be real in his blue jeans and beige sweater. Yes - he can even pull off beige. Alex is kind of mad about it. “Do you want to find a seat?” he asks before he can think better of it. He’s not quite sure what their boundaries are yet, but he finds himself yearning to pin him down (socially, not sexually) (well, that too) and learn more about him in his own voice, rather than via text.
To his surprise, Henry gives him a shy smile and gestures to two unoccupied chairs in the corner. Alex busies himself by leaning over and placing his drink on the table and climbing over Jackson’s outstretched legs. The reason why it’s empty is immediately obvious - the table is wobbly and the stuffing is falling out of the upholstery.
Alex sits himself down on the old seat before Henry can see and suggests they move elsewhere, potentially closer to the others. Henry takes the chair across from him, crossing one leg over the other and cradling his gin and tonic in his palms. He wears his hair loose tonight, soft and wavy around his face, and his eyes look somehow bluer in the lighting. Alex so badly wants to reach forward and tuck it behind his ears, maybe even thread his fingers through his silky locks if Henry allowed him to.
“I got some new files at work,” Alex blurts out impulsively, chasing away his desires with quick conversation. He jiggles his knee as he speaks, excited to be able to tell someone other than his family the news; excited that someone outside his family might care enough to congratulate him. Sure his other boxing friends would throw congratulations his way, but something about Henry and his fledgling friendship with him feels … different. More substantial. Like Henry cares-cares.
“It’s a good thing,” he fills in quickly, to distract himself from his whirlwind thoughts. “It means they’re pleased with what I’ve done so far. They’re more interesting too, not the cut and dry tenancy disputes I’ve been hit with so far.”
“Alex! That’s wonderful,” Henry says, his face splitting into a smile. He leans forward and puts his drink down, placing his whole attention on Alex. “Congratulations, you’ve earned it.”
“Yeah,” Alex says, his shoulders loosening. It feels good to say it and to not worry about coming across like he’s bragging. “I’m .. My boss is a hardass. Amazing. Formidable. But she kind of scares me. It’ll be a lot of work and I might have to work longer hours but…” he shrugs. “It’ll be worth it.”
“Amazing and formidable,” Henry muses out loud, running a finger around the circumference of his glass. “Sounds like someone else I know.” His eyes flick up to Alex’s, smiling softly.
Alex flushes immediately and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide at the compliment. He places his hand on the table, inches from Henry’s now lax hand. He wishes he could reach over and give it a squeeze, but there’s too many people and too many eyes. And Henry … well, he’s not entirely sure if he’s down for that.
Still… Alex can’t help himself. “Yes, well,” he says, taking his own glass and taking a readying sip. “Right back at you.”
Henry flushes and leans back in his chair, hair brushing over his cheeks. If Alex didn’t know any better he might think Henry is trying to hide his expression. To stop himself from saying anything stupid, Alex takes another sip of beer.
“And how does English beer fare against American beer?” Henry asks him quickly, diverting the conversation into safer (and less flirtatious) waters by far.
Alex immediately wrinkles his nose. “First of all, this is the most American-ish beer on tap. Second of all, y’all serve beer warm and flat. If I wanted to drink something that tastes like cat piss, I’d hit up my next door neighbour and her gremlins.”
“Disgusting,” Henry observes, his eyebrows flying up his forehead. “And offensive.”
“If anything,” Alex argues, “I’m offending the f*cking cat.”
“You do know,” Henry informs him lightly, “That England has been brewing beer for almost two thousand years. We have incredibly rich brewing traditions passed down for centuries-”
“That’s fine and all,” Alex shoots back, “But not only is there barely any alcohol content but it’s bland. You’d think after two thousand years, you’d have figured out how to make it taste good.”
“In that case, perhaps you’re just not accustomed to our hops,” Henry tells him, “You Americans love your tropical fruity and citrus-y tastes, whereas us Brits prefer the more refined earthy and spicy-”
Alex snorts. “Spicy? You wouldn’t know spice if it smacked you in the face, sweetheart-”
“... Besides, like all American-made products, your beer has to be loud and ostentatious. Our flavour profiles, though-”
“It tastes like cat piss.”
“You and cat piss,” Henry says mildly, biting back a smile. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the way Alex can’t shut his mouth for longer than a moment. “Any other similes in that head of yours? Perhaps a more critical take?”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Babe,” he replies, ignoring the way his mouth goes dry as Henry flushes, “I’m not totally opposed to your beer, I just happen to have functioning taste buds-” Alex is interrupted by the loud ring of Henry’s phone in his pocket. Henry, who has leaned forward and half opened his mouth, as if to argue right back, jumps at the sound.
He digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He puts a finger in one ear and the phone to the other, and Alex watches as his eyebrows thread together and his lips turn down. “Alright, Bea,” he says down the line. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Alex feels disappointment wash over him as Henry shoves his phone back into his pocket. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “My sister has a bit of an emergency at the shelter.”
“Of course,” Alex says, sitting up. “Go.”
Henry downs the last of his drink and stands, pulling on his dove grey coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks quickly, pulling his hair free of his collar. He looks so hopeful Alex feels his heart beat a little faster.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Alex assures him.
With one last smile Henry leaves, his coat whipping after him.
—
Alex gets the notification at 7:43am the next morning.
TikTok: Henry Fox has posted a new video!
Without thinking, Alex presses into it and stares intently, if a little bleary eyed, as the little loading button goes round and round. Finally, after what couldn’t be more than twenty seconds but feels like five f*cking minutes, the video loads and Alex’s heart stops.
Henry is dressed in sage green and has dark handwraps laid out in front of him. His eyes flick up to the camera, startlingly blue, as he begins to explain in that quiet, steady voice of his how to wrap one’s hands.
The thing is … the thing is. It’s the same f*cking handwraps. Alex is sure of it. He pauses and zooms, lip caught between his teeth, searching for the half snipped tag he knows is on one end and- aha.
Alex immediately locks his phone and throws it down on his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut. Memories flash before his eyelids; Henry’s flushed cheeks and his pink tongue peeking out the corner of his lips as Alex had wrapped his wrist. He swears he can almost feel the slide of cotton against him, and that if he concentrates very hard he could come at just the memory of Henry’s wrapped hand jerking him off. His co*ck hardens between his thighs and his heart rate picks up at the realisation no one but them knows what those handwraps have been used for … where they’ve been …
Without thinking, he makes a grab for his phone and replays the video in full. And then replays it one more time for good measure. His eyes roam eagerly over Henry’s sharp jaw and the beauty spot above his full lips. Each hint of a smile transforms his face, and Alex finds himself torn between wanting to curl into the creases of his dimples or having Henry’s mouth on his co*ck again.
f*ck. Alex presses his thighs together and tries to push down the arousal building in his groin. Usually he’d kill for forty more minutes of sleep … usually he’d be dead to the world until his alarm blared in his ear. But now his mind is filled with HenryHenryHenry and the memory of the best handjob of his life.
There’s no way he’s going back to sleep after this. f*ck it.
Henry 🥊
u fcking menace
im heading in early
Come in the back way.
(8:03am)
Read ✔
—
Alex glances down at the text again as he draws closer to The Fox Den. It’s friendly-looking even from the outside, painted a sunset orange colour and bright coloured posters either side of its entrance. Instead of walking up to the front door and scanning in with his fob, he heads around the back way they had all been shown in case of emergencies.
He slides up to the back door, glancing around for any other early gym-goers. Seeing no one, he reaches up and knocks, feeling a bit like he’s on a secret rendezvous. A secret sex rendezvous, he hopes.
Hardly a moment passes before the door opens from the inside and a pale hand reaches out and hauls him in by the front of his wind jacket. Alex almost trips up the back stairs as he stumbles inside. The door slams behind him, and he barely gets a look at Henry in the dim lighting before he’s being shoved up against it and kissed within an inch of his life, bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a thunk.
Alex grins into the kiss, his hands flying to Henry’s waist and drawing him close. Electricity sparks in his chest as Henry presses into him, nimble hands unzipping his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. Alex lets the fabric slide off him, and the moment it joins his bag on the floor his hands are back on Henry, skimming down his torso and palming his hips. Henry is warm and firm, his clothes clinging deliciously to the curves of his body. Their kisses devolve and hands wander, pulling at clothes and digging into skin.
“You,” Henry says to him as he draws back, irises almost eclipsed by his pupils. One hand cups Alex’s jaw, the smoothness of his palm a soft pillow for Alex’s cheek, currently rough with morning stubble.
Alex’s hand slides over Henry’s hip and to his ass. He squeezes it firmly, tugging Henry’s hips forward. They let out twin moans at the brief flare of friction. “Me?” Alex asks breathlessly, half wanting to know what he means, half absorbed with the need to keep making out with Henry and never stop. “I’m not the one posting soft-core p*rn at the crack of f*cking dawn.”
Henry huffs a laugh into the minute space between their lips. “Hardly,” he defends. “I think - that is, if you bothered to turn the sound on - you’ll find it was quite an instructional video.”
“I listened,” Alex argues back.
Henry simply looks at him. Alex rolls his eyes. “Maybe I was a bit distracted by your choice of wraps. Don’t think for a moment I didn’t catch that. And you call me the demo-”
Henry doesn’t let him finish his sentence. Instead he kisses him, long and deep, melting Alex’s argument with each swipe of his tongue. Alex can’t hold back the moan he lets out, overwhelmed by the press of Henry against him and the feelings bubbling inside his chest. After a long moment he pulls back and rests their foreheads together.
He has never felt so thoroughly out of his depth. Alex bites his lip as Henry’s second hand cups Alex’s other cheek. It’s strangely intimate, the way Henry’s broad shoulders cover Alex’s frame as he curls over him. Henry’s hair falls forward, curtaining them, and suddenly it’s just him and Henry and the sweet flowery smell of his shampoo. Nothing else in the world exists. Not the gym, not his new massive workload, not even the session ahead.
Something intense wavers uncertainly between them, a feeling Alex can’t quite pinpoint the name of, but lodges painfully under his ribcage all the same. It only lasts the briefest of flashes, but it’s enough to freak them both out - Alex can see it in Henry’s eyes. So he barrels them right past it. Sex is safer territory by far.
“Bathroom,” he says, tugging at Henry’s waist. “Bathroom. Now.”
They begin to stumble down the hall towards the fire stairs, his heart warming as Henry quickly bends to collect his jacket and bag for him. He’s so hyper focused on Henry and getting his hands on him, he had forgotten their existence completely.
Once upstairs he backs them through a shower door and presses Henry against it as he turns the lock, much like Henry had just done to him. A small oof leaves Henry’s lips as he steadies himself, flicking his long hair out of his face.
Alex takes a moment to drink in the sight of him. He’s a vision, cheeks flushed an enticing pink and eyes hooded. His head is tilted back against the door, giving Alex the perfect view of his long, pale neck wrapped up in a skin tight muscle fit jacket. It’s zipped to his throat but clings to every inch of him, not leaving a single curve to the imagination. Alex has the wild desire to take him apart with his teeth.
So he does.
Standing on his tiptoes, he mouths along Henry’s jaw, spurred on by his small noises of assent and the twitch of his hips. He peppers nips amongst his kisses, grinning into the space under Henry’s chin as the blonde gasps particularly loudly, before moving his way down what little of his throat Alex can reach.
“f*ck,” he mumbles into tight fabric, horny and frustrated and needing so f*cking badly to bite. He impatiently unzips Henry’s jacket just enough to expose his neck, only to find Henry’s wearing the same black Nike long sleeve he did in one of the hand wrap videos. He stares at the white tick sitting at the base of Henry’s throat like a challenge and, well, Alex has never been one to say no to a challenge. He hears Henry’s breath hitch as he leans in and tugs the neck of his shirt aside.
“Alright if I leave a mark?” Alex asks, tracing the top of Henry’s collarbone with a feather light brush of teeth that leaves him shivering.
“Ye-ahs,” Henry trails off with a hiss as Alex wastes no time in sinking his teeth in. The feel of Henry’s smooth, heated skin against his lips is intoxicating, so much so he digs his fingernails into Henry’s waist in a feeble effort to restrain himself. He fails dismally, quickly losing himself in drawing tiny sounds from the blonde as he sucks down the line of his throat, nibbling to his heart’s content, and soothing the skin with broad swipes of his tongue.
A particularly hard bite pulls a whine from Henry and jerks his hips forward, his co*ck hard and insistent against Alex’s hip. Suddenly, Henry’s neck is no longer at the top of Alex’s list of Henry’s body parts he needs to suck on.
Alex takes the zip of Henry’s jacket in his teeth and glances up at Henry from beneath his lashes, sending him a quick wink. Grinning at the sound of Henry’s sharp intake of breath he holds the jacket steady at the neck and unzips it down, down, down with his teeth. Henry’s head hits the back of the door with a groan as Alex bends lower, hand tracing the front of Henry’s throat and following the path down with every inch of his chest that he uncovers.
He doesn’t give Henry a moment to recalibrate - he’s already on his knees, nosing against Henry’s groin before he finishes groaning.
“Can I?”
“Yes,” Henry says in wonder, his hand finding Alex’s curls automatically. Alex grins up at him again.
This. This he can do. He’d done his research after receiving the head of his life from Henry. He’s not naive enough to think that p*rn can teach him everything, but he had found some really helpful dick sucking technique videos. Sue him, he wants to not be sh*t his first time, alright.
He peels Henry’s shorts down to his thighs and can’t help but to follow the lines of long legs with searching fingertips, grazing from his hip down to his calf. He squeezes as he goes, possessive and greedy for each new inch of skin he can touch and admire. Henry’s thighs are already turning a rosy pink where the elastic of his waistband digs into the thick muscle and Alex has to fight back the urge to nibble at them too.
“Look at you,” Alex says mindlessly, kissing his knee and then the inside of his thigh before glancing upwards and blinking slowly. He’ll never get over how beautiful Henry is from this angle.
“f*cking eyelashes,” Henry groans softly. He bites his plush lower lip and watches Alex greedily.
He might blink once or twice on purpose after the eyelashes comment, but the way he blinks as he pulls Henry’s grey (grey!) briefs down is all on Henry. His co*ck is long and curved upwards, pretty and pink. The slight anxiety in his stomach transforms into excitement as Henry cups the back of his neck and swipes his thumb over the corner of his jaw. Alex licks his lips once, eyes on Henry, before taking the base of his co*ck in hand and bringing the tip to his lips.
Henry lets out a low groan of pleasure. His thighs tremble ever so slightly under Alex’s light-fingered touch, and he doesn’t miss the way Henry’s stomach tenses as Alex experimentally swirls his tongue over the head of his co*ck. The websites had given him many tips - too many tips to remember, let alone put into action. But he remembers the crux of it - make it wet, and be enthusiastic.
Saliva begins to drip down Alex’s chin and his wrist fumbles to find a rhythm in time with his mouth, but if the litany of profanities dropping from Henry’s lips are anything to go by, he’s enjoying it. With a surge of confidence, Alex relaxes his jaw and takes Henry an inch or so deeper, his eyes finding Henry’s as he hollows his cheeks. Alex hadn’t taken him for a babbler, but he babbles quietly now - good job, like that, so good for me, Alex.
Faster than he anticipated, Henry begins to unravel under him. Alex watches as Henry pushes his own hair back from his face and takes a fistful of it, his broad chest heaving. His other hand covers his own mouth, muffling the echo of his groans. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex registers that the gym is likely due to open any minute now. At least one of them has a modicum of sense.
Though Alex’s wrist is tired and his jaw aches, he gets it now. This is fun. Henry is shuddering and squirming under his ministrations, the fact of which shoots straight to his co*ck. Henry’s pleasure is his, and giving it to him sends tingles down his spine. Alex needs this; Alex needs so f*cking badly to lavish Henry in all the pleasure he deserves until he can’t take any more.
When Henry comes, it’s with a breathless laugh and his hand in the curls at the nape of Alex’s neck. His come is salty and tangy, and the way Henry’s co*ck pulses in Alex’s mouth is both wildly satisfying and a little overwhelming. Alex swallows him down eagerly even so, his heart banging on the inside of his ribcage.
“Alex,” Henry’s knees knock together as he tugs Alex up by his sleeves. Alex complies, straightening up and slipping an arm around Henry’s waist, supporting his weight. Henry might be taller and broader, but Alex is stockier, and he feels the primal urge to protect Henry whilst he recovers. He helps Henry pull his shorts over his hips again, his hands hovering as Henry ties his drawstring with fumbling fingers.
“You’re f*cking incredible,” Alex says honestly. He looks at the curve of Henry’s shoulder as he says it, not yet brave enough to say it to his face.
He sees Henry’s golden eyelashes flutter as he smiles, though, the hint of dimples appearing on each cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Yeah?” Alex squints at him playfully. “Not the best review. Should I try again?” he challenges.
Broad palms squeeze his waist and Henry’s eyes soften. He leans forward, and after a tiny pause, kisses Alex quickly on the side of the mouth. “You did wonderfully, love.”
He fights down a blush, giving himself a stern reminder that we are playing it cool - do not fall apart in front of the pretty man. He fails. Logically he knows the love thing is a byproduct of his Britishness but even so, it sends his heart skipping and jumping.
“I’m not done with you,” he tells Henry instead. His chest feels hot, his skin feverish. He’s never wanted to f*ck anyone so badly in his life.
“Good,” Henry says evenly. “I’m not done with you either. I wouldn’t want to leave you underf*cked.” Alex sucks in a breath as Henry’s fingers skim his hip bones, slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. He watches, enthralled as Henry begins to sink down, his eyes alight. Alex can very much get on board with this, too.
The distant sound of a slamming door and voices sends Henry back to full height, almost tripping over in his haste. Footsteps and the jostle of bags begin to echo up the stairwell, muted but too close for comfort.
“f*ck,” Alex curses. They’re safely tucked in a solitary stall away from prying eyes, no one uses the showers on Saturday mornings. But how the f*ck were they going to get out and downstairs without anyone noticing?
“Shhh,” Henry presses him into the wall and listens intently as the locker doors slam and the voices become muffled. Alex is kind of into the firm way Henry presses his palm into Alex’s chest, if he’s being totally honest. “I’ll slip out first-”
Alex whines and clenches his fingers around the material of Henry’s training shirt. His co*ck feels heavy between his legs, aching for the stolen promise of Henry’s full, pink lips.
Blue eyes flick to him, faint amusem*nt evident in the line of his mouth. “You can wait,” he says plainly.
“Henry-” Alex hisses. He narrows his eyes at his blonde companion.
“No.” Alex’s knees turn to jelly under his calm gaze. Then he leans forward, fingernails digging lightly into the place under Alex’s ribcage, and says, “Be a good boy for me. Can you do that?” and Alex swears his stomach falls out of his ass.
“Only if I can f*ck you,” Alex blurts out, pulling Henry closer until they’re almost nose to nose. It comes out possessive, and a little more aggressive than he meant it. The effect on Henry is worth the slip up though.
Henry’s breath catches in his throat. Another blush materialises over his high cheekbones and his pupils dilate at Alex’s suggestion. Alex takes it as a sign to push on, to wrench the control back from Henry, the way Henry is rapidly proving he likes. “We’re coming back here as soon as the gym is closed and I’m going to make your pretty little moans echo off the walls, yes?” he whispers into the minute distance between them, gaze boring into Henry’s.
The blonde swallows hard. “Yes,” he agrees before he’s slipping out of the bathroom, pulling his long-sleeved shirt over his head.
—
Henry can’t take his eyes off of Alex the entire training session.
Likewise, Alex can’t take his mind off Henry all through the circuits he sets for them.
He narrowly avoids a punch to the nose from Jackson during padwork and trips over his own feet whilst skipping when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Henry bend down to retie his shoelace. God, Henry should be added to the gym’s risk assessment.
Worst of all, his eyes keep straying back to that goddamn tick sitting at the base of Henry’s throat. It’s practically taunting him with the knowledge that underneath it sits the indent of Alex’s teeth, probably already blossoming a beautiful purple against Henry’s pale skin.
Alex doesn’t think he’s imagining the fact that Henry is avoiding his side of the room. In fact, he thinks it’s his best idea yet. He has a feeling that if their eyes meet, he won’t be able to hold himself back from launching himself into Henry’s arms and kissing him senseless in front of the entire group. So, he puts his head down and focuses on the medicine ball in his hands and the burn of his thigh muscles.
When the clock reaches ten to the hour, Henry sets them the usual cool down exercises and slips upstairs. Alex tries to concentrate on stretching his hamstrings and tune into what the other gym goers are chatting about instead of watching him leave.
“Got anything planned for the weekend, guys?” Anna asks curiously as they put their feet together in a butterfly stretch.
“Lunch with the in-laws,” Sam provides.
“Trying to recover from whatever that was,” Sydney groans, “Either I’m unfit or he wasn’t playing today.”
“Shhh,” Dean says, glancing toward the stairs. “He could come back.”
Alex’s eyes automatically go to the stairs too, wondering where Henry had slipped off to. His eyes snap back as Anna addresses him. “Hm?”
“Any plans for the weekend?”
f*cking Henry. “No,” he says casually, “I’ll stay around for a bit. Might call my family back home later, might get ahead of my workload tomorrow.”
“Oh, honey,” Anna says, “You need to give yourself a break.”
“Probably,” Alex admits, but he’s distracted by approaching footsteps. It’s not Henry though - it’s Pez, a sh*t-eating grin lighting up his face.
In his haste to get to the gym as quickly as possible this morning, Alex had forgotten all about their little challenge. He hadn’t seen Pez yet considering he’d snuck into the gym through the back entrance and spent the entirety of his time before class on his knees for Henry. Alex laughs as he takes in the full effect of Pez’s black baby tee, “Beggin’ for a Peggin’” in bold hot pink with a clothes peg beside the text.
“Hi darlings,” he trills, dropping a wink in response to Alex’s laughter and lighting up at the resounding chorus of hi he receives back from the rest of the group. “Who’s going to help Auntie Pezza pack up?”
The pack up is excruciating. Alex does his best to keep his face carefully in check as they all help Pez hang up the skipping ropes, wipe down the borrowed boxing gloves and stack away the medicine balls. Indeed, as soon as most of them have left and Pez is distracted by Sydney and Jess asking about his upcoming fundraiser, Alex picks up his gym bag and leisurely strolls towards the stairs.
As soon as he’s out of sight he picks up his pace and emerges from the stairwell impatient and tapping his hands against his thigh. He glances around the deserted top floor, a frown on his lips as he looks for familiar blonde hair.
“Alex.”
He twists and finds Henry, arms crossed, leaning against the entry to the bathroom. His long blonde hair is tucked behind his ears and his gaze is hungry. Alex finds himself drifting towards Henry, a moth to a flame, until suddenly he’s upon him, smiling and pushing Henry backwards.
Henry obliges, leading Alex right into the shower stall they’d occupied that very morning. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice notes that all this hooking up in the gym may not be particularly the most sanitary thing in the world. But, well, Alex couldn’t give a flying f*ck. He’s solely focused on getting his hands and mouth on Henry. Maybe even his co*ck in Henry if he’s lucky enough and Henry is still on board.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, locking the door securely behind them.
Henry’s ears redden but he determinedly maintains eye contact. “I told Pez to close up early for me. That I had something very important to prepare for.”
“Oh?” Alex raises an eyebrow, smirking. He wastes no time in prowling forward and placing his hands on either side of Henry’s tiny waist. The feeling of it under his palms is devastating, like each and every time before. He glances up at Henry, drinking in the symmetry of his face and plump lips. “And what was this very important preparation that couldn’t wait until the end of class?” He rubs his fingers in a circular motion, pulling up the clingy material of his shirt and bearing a sliver of pale skin.
“It would be better if I showed you, actually,” he bites his bottom lip and surveys Alex’s face, as if waiting for it to click.
Click it does. Alex all but shudders as the realisation washes over him. “Let me get this straight,” he tells Henry. “You were in here, fingering yourself open for me, while we were cooling down?”
After a brief pause, Henry gives a tiny nod. Alex actually does shudder this time, desire permeating each and every molecule of his body. “f*ck,” he says, “You’re not ready for what I’m about to do to you. f*ck.”
“Show me, then,” Henry tells him, leaning forward and nuzzling him. “Show me, Alex.”
Henry’s skin-tight wrist-length black shirt comes off first, discarded without a second thought. Alex’s lavender t-shirt is off next, dropped to the floor and kicked aside. Shoes and socks and shorts join their shirts until they’re fully bare before each other for the first time.
Alex finds he can scarcely draw enough air into his lungs. He’s too enamoured with the sight of Henry’s body. His eyes zero in on Henry’s neck, the pattern of purples and angry reds framed by the outline of his teeth, sending blood roaring through his veins. Alex all but hauls him further into the shower, his hand cradling the back of Henry’s head as he shoves him against the tiles and slots their mouths back together.
The kiss bypasses heated and leaps into devouring. Henry’s lips are soft and his tongue explorative, licking into Alex’s mouth as Alex opens up under Henry’s fervour. Henry’s hands wander too, smooth palms running down the slight curve of Alex’s back and over the roundness of his ass. He’s been with girls who haven’t touched his ass at all, and girls that liked to give it a good squeeze. Henry though - his palms linger, his pointer finger brushing over the beginning of his crease.
His own hands fall to Henry’s ass, cupping it gently and fondling. He explores curiously, trailing down Henry’s own crease until he feels the unmistakable slippery feeling of lube beneath his pointer. Alex pulls back from Henry’s mouth to groan; his dick is painfully hard where it rests upon Henry’s inner thigh.
“Condom?” he asks quickly.
Henry hesitates, sucking on his bottom lip. Alex can see the cogs in his head turning. “We’re both clean. I’m alright without using one if you are?” He searches Alex’s face for his reaction, the tips of his ears going pink as he barrels on. “I like the sensation; being filled.”
Alex’s breath catches. The idea of pressing into Henry without any barriers between them … every inch of their bodies touching, nothing in the way. He lets out a choked little noise and squeezes Henry’s fleshy hips in assent.
“Turn around,” he says hoarsely, turning Henry by his shoulders and pressing him against the tiles. With his right hand he reaches out and switches on the shower, too captivated by the broad expanse of Henry’s back and the divots of his muscles to feel the cold sting of the water as it warms up. The sound of it ricocheting off the tiles drowns out his own heavy breathing as he skims his fingertips down the staircase of Henry’s spine.
“Can I touch you?” he presses his thumb into the dimple above his ass to indicate his intention, his breath still caught in his chest.
“Please.”
Alex shifts, the now warm spray dripping down his back and dampening his curls. He runs his hands up the back of Henry’s long, pale legs and takes a moment to massage Henry’s ass, engrossed by the groove between his cheek and his thigh and the moles dotting his skin. He presses a kiss against one shoulder blade, and then the other, as his thumb slips between Henry’s cheeks and presses against his entrance.
Henry’s gasp is swallowed by the echo of the water. Henry is slippery, and he pulls back to watch, enthralled, as the tip of his finger sinks into the warmth of Henry’s body. “Oh, f*ck,” Alex hisses as Henry’s ass flutters, tight around his digit. “f*ck, Henry-”
“More,” Henry tells him, his voice breathy. He wiggles his ass back into Alex’s hand, impatient. “Like that - yes. Curl your finger. A little deeper. Eungh! Yes, Christ, Alex-”
Alex hurries to follow his instructions, pulling his cheek open and slipping his finger in further, biting his lip in concentration as Henry shudders. He’s slower than what Henry might like, he’s not sure, but he wants to do this right - to make sure Henry feels good. He withdraws his thumb and switches to his forefinger, circling Henry’s rim with bated breath as his hole clenches. He pushes in easily thanks to Henry’s earlier preparation, but, even so, Henry still whimpers and moans at his slow scissor of his fingers.
But then he realises Henry’s noises are being muffled. “Hey,” Alex chastises, his hand leaving its home on Henry’s waist and sliding into his silky hair. He curls his fingers in and tugs experimentally, bringing Henry’s face out from its hiding place in the crook of his elbow. Into the shell of his ear he whispers, “Don’t cover your gorgeous face I meant what I said before. I wanna hear your pretty moans, baby.”
It slips out accidentally. For a moment he worries it’s too much, but then Henry’s sharp intake of breath and piercing, unfiltered whine hits his ears like a siren song. “Baby,” he says again, more quietly this time, as he gently kisses a bruise on his neck.
“Alex,” Henry gets out, leaning his head back into the curve of Alex’s palm. Alex grips tighter, captivated by the way Henry grins at the hint of pain and the way his pink lips form an o when he moans.
Alex sets about experimenting a little longer, curling his fingers and searching again for that little spot inside Henry as his little intakes of breath bounce off the tiles. He knows he’s found his prostate when Henry lets out a strangled sound and slides down the shower wall, his knees buckling as Alex bullies the spot with punishing jabs of his fingers. Pleasure spreads through him as he watches Henry’s body respond to his ministrations.
He forgoes his grip on Henry’s hair and slips his arm around him instead, drawing him close. One of Henry’s hands presses over his, twining their fingers for the briefest of moments. Alex has to push down the desire to thread their hands together and f*ck him like that; it’s probably too intimate for whatever they are. He doesn’t want to freak Henry out.
“Wanna be inside you,” he says instead, his voice rough as he slowly withdraws his fingers and takes his base in hand. He presses his tip against Henry’s rim and kisses the middle of his back, waiting patiently as Henry draws a breath.
“Alex,” Henry says, all traces of authority gone. This Henry is deferential, six feet of trembling skin under Alex’s firm grip. “Please.”
“Was I good?” Alex asks into the curve of his ear. “Was I a good boy for you?” he presses himself more firmly against Henry’s rim, enough that the very tip of his co*ck threatens to enter Henry’s warm, wet heat.
“Yes,” Henry cries, his voice half muffled by the slippery shower tiles. “Yes, so good. So well-behaved for me.”
“Now it’s your turn to be a good boy for me,” he says as he slowly slides into Henry’s body, gritting his teeth as the overwhelming tightness envelops his co*ck. f*ck.
He thrusts shallowly, pressure building low in his belly alarmingly quickly, but he can’t bring himself to stop and breathe. Henry feels so good - too good. His brain practically blue screens as he rolls his hips, Henry’s ass a vice around his co*ck as he sinks past the tight outer muscle and into his warmth.
“Alex-” Henry gets out, his breathy voice leaking through Alex’s headiness.
He digs his fingernails into Henry’s hips and swears, low and throaty. He slows down, pulling back until just his tip remains inside Henry, then jerks his hips forward and pauses, drawing out his thrusts and batting away the temptation to slam clumsily into Henry until he’s spilling to fruition inside him.
“You’re so f*cking tight,” he manages, his hand sliding up Henry’s back and curling into his hair again. f*ck, his hair is so beautiful too; tawny gold and silky, and just the perfect length for him to twist into his fingers and pull at. Henry’s head tilts back, held firmly in Alex’s grip as Alex builds his pace.
Their skin slaps against each other, the ripples along Henry’s skin a delicious sight Alex wants to commit to memory. It spurs him into motion; his left hand, securely around Henry’s stomach, drifts down and closes around his co*ck where it’s slipping against the tiles in search of friction.
“f*cking Christ,” he says as Henry’s co*ck twitches in his grip and another sweet moan ricochets around the shower. He pumps him without preamble, all too aware of his own org*sm rapidly approaching. He’s been practically edged for over an hour, alright. The urge to come is second only to bringing Henry to his own pleasure.
“Harder,” Henry chokes out, his chin almost bouncing off the wall as Alex’s hips quicken. f*ck. He flattens his hand on Henry’s lower stomach and presses down as he drives into his ass, sloppier but rougher, like Henry asked for. The press of his ass around Alex’s co*ck is pure bliss, and his grunts and gasps stoke the fire low in his belly. He never wants to stop.
“Lex-” Henry gets out, his voice high and unfiltered, wet and desperate. He grabs fruitlessly at Alex’s knuckles, overwhelmed.
“You feel so-” he swears into the back of Henry’s neck, his right hand grazing over damp skin. The desire to chart his body blooms inside him, scorching hot and usurping any tiny sense of decorum that remains. He shifts, pulling one of Henry’s legs up to deepen the angle and pinning it to the shower wall by hooking his hand under his knee.
”Oh.” Henry’s voice dies out at the sharp strike of Alex’s hips. Alex can see delight across his face as he turns his head, blue eyes seeking out Alex’s brown ones as he f*cks into him. Henry’s jaw is so sharp it could cut glass, his throat working as he breathes hard.
It’s the eye contact that does it for him. “Need to come-” he finds himself saying urgently, swallowing hard as he takes in Henry’s needy expression and parted lips. He lets Henry’s leg fall and takes his co*ck in hand instead.
“Now,” Henry begs. “Inside me. Please, Alex-”
He does as he’s told, swearing and trembling as the wave crests and crashes over him; the pleasure is nothing like he’s ever felt, so acute it verges on painful. He milks his co*ck dry in the tightness of Henry’s ass, one hand still firmly pressed against Henry’s tummy and the other wrapped around his co*ck.
Henry drives his hips into Alex’s fist once, twice, and comes over his hand with a small, harsh laugh, his palms braced against the wall and his fingernails scrabbling at the grouting. The water is loud in Alex’s ears, but he’s tuned into every sound tumbling from Henry’s kiss-swollen lips. Henry sighs in satisfaction and slumps forward, pale body covered in a light sheen of sweat that the water is already beginning to rinse away.
“f*ck,” Henry says, the swear still unfamiliar in the poshness of his lush, moneyed voice.
Alex couldn’t agree more. “f*ck,” he echoes, resting his forehead on Henry’s back and taking a long, deep breath.
