Archive of Our Own ^beta

Alex would say that this date is going really, really well.

It hurts to admit because he now owes Nora a six-pack of beer, but he’ll happily swallow his pride if it means he gets to spend as much time as humanly possible with the cute librarian with the elbow patches who’d asked him out last week. 

The cute librarian, Henry, is not wearing any elbow patches this evening, but is instead dressed in cream linen pants and a soft blue oversized shirt. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, on his collar bones, down his neck from the balmy New York air but instead of being gross, the way Alex probably is, it’s sinful. He’s glowing. Alex wants to lick his throat. Jesus, he could have sworn he was straight a minute ago.

“How does New York compare to Austin?” Henry asks.

They’ve just ordered their starters and mains, the waiter barely glancing at them as he took their order. Alex had planned the date, having decided to take Henry to a new restaurant, Le Beau Monde, a French-American place that opened up just before Alex got to New York, and had had rave reviews from the very beginning. Henry had very briefly mentioned speaking French in an early conversation before they were even acquaintances. So, although it was admittedly a very simple connection, he thought Henry might appreciate Alex taking him there.

(Alex had also found himself itching to hear him speak French since then but had been too afraid to ask Henry to show him in case it ended up with him subsequently asking what else Henry’s talented tongue could do. Jesus, Alex, shut the fuck up.) 

Alex, in an effort to ease his anxiety, had taken Nora here a few days before to try out the menu so that when he’d recommended the Filet Mignon with a Garlic Aioli sauce to Henry, he seemed vaguely like he knew what the fuck he was on about. 

It was a little fancy, and sure, maybe Alex’s wallet would be screaming at him for the two trips he’s taken here, but when he’d mentioned his reasoning to Henry, about how he’d chosen this place because he thought Henry would like it especially, Henry had placed his hand on top of Alex’s in gratitude. “That’s really sweet, Alex. Thank you.”

Alex’s skin burned at the contact. The loan he’d have to take out to cover the two meals would be so worth it. He was only a little aggrieved when the waiter had interrupted them with their drinks orders a moment later and Henry had retracted his grasp. 

“It’s great.” He replies, a little too enthusiastically. He sips his white wine - best paired with the fish he’s ordered as his starter. Henry’s on a deep burgundy Pinot Noir that’ll compliment his main very well, according to the disinterested waiter. “I mean, I do like it. It does feel like home these days. It’s not even that I miss Austin, you know? I just miss my sister.” It’s been months since he’s seen June in person, though they talk all the time on the phone. “June’s in Italy right now. Doing some cool stuff. She got a grant to do a report out there following these archaeologists uncovering a shit ton of Roman statues underneath a mountain or something. It’s awesome. I just miss her, you know? She’ll be back in the States in a few months but it’s the longest we’re ever been apart.” Alex sighs. “Anyway, I imagine the difference is much more stark between New York and London, right?”

Henry seems thoughtful as he replies, “Yes, quite. Life over here is very different but I admit, it’s rather refreshing. It’s exactly what I wanted, to be honest. I find myself missing London only in the same way you’re missing your home: I miss my sister.”

“Bea, yeah?”

“You remembered.” Henry’s eyes sparkle. “But yes, Beatrice. She’s older than me, though you’d be forgiven for thinking that I was her elder given how often she calls me her Mother Hen.”

Alex laughs, good-naturedly. 

“I’m sure you won’t mind me refraining from delving into my family history before we’ve even had our starters,” Alex nods, “But when I applied to NYU for my Bachelors four years ago, there was definitely an element of ‘getting away as soon as I could’ about it. Since my father passed, my mother is a wraith that haunts the upstairs of the house, my sister - she’s stable now - but she initially spiraled in her own self-destructive way, and my brother became someone I no longer care to recognise. Things have gotten better in some respects, but Percy, my best friend, that is, helped me to realise that it’s okay for me to do what’s best for me. So I packed my bags, my dog, my books, my dignity, and I ran away.” Henry seems a little sheepish when he says this. 

Alex is having none of it. He scoffs, “I’d hardly call that running away, H. It was a fucking brave thing to do. To pursue something you love. It took me a while to learn too, but if there’s anything that coming from my family has taught me, a family so focused on politics and watching my sister rebel in her own way, it’s that you should take what you want and know you deserve to have it. And you do. You, especially, Henry.” He says, significantly. 

Henry’s eyes shine. “And how did you do it?”

Alex considers his question. “I suppose by turning away from what I thought I’d always do, which was to become a senator by 30, and allow myself to be unsure. To flounder. To figure out what I truly want.” Alex leans back in his chair in an attempt to diffuse his intensity, never mind what Henry must be feeling. “And so far, I know that I love helping people.” Henry smiles at that. “It’s true. I know I have a knack for law and I do enjoy it, can’t do law school without that innate love for it, and I know I love using my expertise to help people. There must be a way for me to marry the two, instead of using my knowledge to help the rich get richer, you know?”

“That’s very admirable, Alex. And though I admittedly don’t know you well, I believe you can find a way.” 

They move swiftly on from the heavy stuff like Alex’s divorced politician parents and Henry’s tumultuous relationship with his Grandmother, and Henry tells him about how he manages his time. After all, alongside working in the library, he’s in his second year of his Masters on queer history, he volunteers at a youth shelter, Henry is captain of the polo club, he’s President of the Student Union, and he started the LGBTQ+ society in his first year at NYU.

“Henry, I think you’ve conquered the student body.” Henry almost spits out his gulp of wine and Alex chooses to ignore what this could possibly mean. “I’ve been calling you by your name this whole time. I should have been calling you by your title, Your Majesty.”

Henry rolls his eyes, “And perhaps I should have been calling you by what you obviously are.”

“Which is?”

“The worst idea I’ve ever had,” Henry replies, far too fondly.

Alex raises his glass, “¡Salud!”

Henry winks at him, “Cheers!” They sit companionably for another moment, Alex ruminating on how swimmingly this date is going, when Henry suggests, “You should join if you want. The LGBTQ+ society, I mean.” He shrugs. No pressure . 

Alex hums. “Yeah, maybe.” He replies, noncommittal. 

Henry looks at him for a moment. “Go on.”

Alex isn’t sure he should say it. He’s on a date, after all. With a man, no less. 

Yet. Henry. Henry is so sweet and lovely and so easy to talk to. And ‘gay as a maypole’, as he’d said when they’d been texting, setting up their date, and the President of the queer club. And if anyone would listen, understand, surely it would be him.

“I guess I’m just struggling with feeling bisexual,” Alex says. “Like, in my bones.” Cue all the dick jokes running through his brain like a carousel; he stomps them down. 

Henry seems to consider this for a moment before he says, gentle openness on his face, “What about being bisexual? You are bisexual by virtue of identifying as bisexual. That’s it.”

One corner of Alex’s mouth lifts. “You’re so right, and I agree. Except -”

The waiter brings their starters. Henry had ordered the ballotine of duck parfait with the toasted brioche and apricot chutney. Alex had ordered tempura squid, roasted scallops, and salmon dumplings. He’d almost forgotten there was a whole world around them, outside of the tiny table Alex had requested at the back of the restaurant before the waiter had interrupted them. Turns out, talking to Henry will do that to him. 

They clink their glasses again and dig into their food, Henry leaving room for Alex to pick up the thread of their conversation when he’s ready. 

“See, I‘ve dated girls. And I’d even go so far as to say I’ve fallen for girls. That felt good and right and, though I hate to say it, normal.”

Henry lets out a breath through a weary smile. “I get that.” 

“I’ve hooked up with girls and I’ve been attracted to them, I’ve been in love with them and wanted to romance them. And I’ve never felt any inkling of the same thing for a guy.” Except you, he doesn’t say because it’s too scary to acknowledge right now. “I don’t think, anyway. I mean, I’ve done stuff, yanno. But it doesn’t count.”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Stuff?”

Alex cows, sheepishly, “Yeah, like, I’ve given my best friend a hand job a couple times. Liam, that was his name. And okay, maybe it was more than a couple times. But I never felt anything about it. I’m not even sure I was sexually attracted to him, he was just there and we were both consenting sexually frustrated teens and I suppose I kinda started it. But then Liam would be the one to initiate and I sort of was like, ‘sure, man’ and then he’d get sad sometimes if I turned him down. And, oh God , I’m just realising that the reason we stopped being friends is definitely because I turned him down the last time he attempted to ask me out.” He looks down at his food, but really at himself, entirely disbelieving at everything that has just spewed out of him, “Fuck, you must be thinking that I’m such an obtuse fucking asshole.”

“On the contrary,” Henry, to Alex’s surprise, vehemently disagrees. He’s mildly indignant as he replies, “You were a teenager. And anyway, sexual attraction and romantic attraction, while often intertwined, are not the same and can happen independently of one another. Sometimes that means one doesn’t happen at all.”

Henry is just so understanding and clever and kind.

And extremely hot. His lips, wet from licking them of stray parfait, are such a pretty and inviting shade of red. His hair is a golden main and his arms - God, his arms - are softly corded with muscle. Every time Henry blushes under Alex’s gaze and flushes under the heat of his words, he can see the pink travel from his cheeks down his neck to the peak of his chest Alex can spot under his shirt. The collar is open and Alex can see the beginnings of his pecs and the smooth skin he wants to run his fingers down. He finds himself wondering whether Henry’s nipples are the same shade as his lips and God , how much he wants to kiss them both, the lips and the nipples. And everywhere else, too, if he’s honest. 

If Alex were a better man, he’d be able to admit to himself right now that that is very much not the case for him on this date. That he’s both sexually and romantically attracted to this walking sex pot with a brain the size of Staten Island and charm as dazzling as James Bond, himself. 

So instead, he stuffs a dumpling in his mouth. “I suppose.” Alex hums. “It probably doesn’t help that I really only started to consider that even could be queer last week, specifically when you asked me out. Okay, maybe a little before that because I definitely noticed when Gladys stopped working the afternoon shifts and suddenly, yanno, you were there. I guess I just worry that like, when I’m with a girl, I’m just with that girl and I suppose we exist in that heterosexual bubble and that’s fine. But then, when I think about you, I’m like, oh, this is good too and I guess I might be queer but I feel like I’m tricking you because I still find girls hot.

“Like, what if I’m just cosplaying being bi?” Alex deflates. He looks up and seems only then to realise precisely where he is. “God, I’m so sorry, Henry, I know we’re literally on a date, but I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to about this.”

Henry chuckles, good-naturedly, and Alex is relieved to discover it seems genuine and he hasn’t just forced this beautiful specimen away. “It’s alright, Alex. Truly, and I’m so glad you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about this. If I’ve learned anything from my time as both a deeply gay man and as President of the queer society, and forgive me if I sound like a youth worker saying this, but bisexuality is not the equivalent of being half-gay and half-straight. It has its own name for a reason, as does every other sexuality. It’s its own separate, wonderful, joyful, rich, and complex tapestry.”

Alex ruminates for a moment, not on what Henry had said, but how the hell he landed himself on a date with the most sublime person in existence. 

“I don’t get how you’re able to do that.”

Henry startles. “What?”

“Put exactly how I feel into words.” 

He expects that to make Henry smile, but Henry is far away. He takes a sip of his wine and his head lolls to one side as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “If it's any consolation, your affection towards me, that doesn’t feel fake.”

Alex’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah, it is.”

Henry smiles. “Good.” He places his wine glass back on the table. “Look, if I end up being an experiment, then so be it. I take on that plight humbly, gracefully, even. Being doted on by a beautiful man, however briefly, is not a hardship.”

Alex looks at him, brows furrowed in surprise. “You feel doted on?”

Henry nods, still smiling. “You got me flowers, you kissed my cheek when you picked me up for this date. You’ve taken me to a restaurant based on interests I’ve expressed. And you seem genuinely interested in what I have to say. You’re listening.”

Alex can barely stop himself from saying, “That’s because you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” Yep, the straightest thing he’s ever said in his life. Well, he concedes, at least it’s also the truest thing he’s ever said. 

Henry doesn’t have a response. In fact, he’s been staring at him.

Alex clears his throat. “Can we go back to the part where you think I’m beautiful?”

That shocks a laugh out of Henry. He tips his head back, showing off the length of his throat, his Adam's apple to an unsuspecting Alex. His mouth is stained at the edges by red wine. “If we must.” He says, “You are beautiful, I see that look, Alex, you must know you’re gorgeous. I’ve thought that since I saw you for the first time, and you’re so kind, too. Considerate. When I asked you on this date, you were very forthcoming about your lack of experience, how you were straight, but how you wanted to say ‘yes’ anyway.”

It’s true. Their ‘meet-cute’, as Nora had put it, was unconventional. 

Alex had been going to the library most days after his classes, with Nora acting as his ‘study buddy’. Every afternoon, he’d walk into the building opposite the law school, greet the librarian at the front desk, and work on the reading assigned that day. Alex knew that if he didn’t do it right when he was still in the zone, it would never get done. 

A couple of months into the school year, there must have been a shift change because the grumpy lady who used to sit there was replaced with a blond Adonis in a cardigan. And thus began Alex’s slow descent into madness, the singular cause being the soft British man who greeted him with the brightest smile every afternoon; who wrote furiously when he had spare time in a leather notebook; who drank tea almost as much as Alex drank coffee; who noticed when Alex was off for a couple days with the flu and said, “Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, love.” 

Of course, Nora had clocked how Alex sat specifically on a desk in front of the art books, even though he was a Law student, just so he could look up directly at Henry every time he so much as scanned a book, or sipped his tea, or smiled sweetly when helping another student. 

It was an unseasonably cool day towards the end of May when Henry caught Alex gazing at him, and though he had a student waiting at the desk for help, walked right over to where Alex and Nora were sitting. Alex didn’t even have time to pretend he was studying before Henry said, “Hello. Sorry to bother you both, and please ignore me if I’ve got this wrong, but would you like to go on a date with me?” 

Miraculously, this was directed at Alex.

Alex’s dreams -  the unspoken kind, the ones that he wouldn’t admit to himself, the ones confined to staring out the window and in his sleep - had come true and that was the most terrifying thing in the world. 

“What?”

“Christ, I haven’t even said my name. My name is Henry, by the way.”

Alex knew that. Alex had looked him up on the NYU staff website long ago. Henry didn’t need to know that so instead he said, “You want to date me?”

“Yes,” Henry had replied, simply, unselfconsciously. 

Alex had been about to question him, ask him whether he was mentally all there because how could he possibly want to date this mess? He’s kind of a perfect specimen and Alex was a mere mortal.

If it hadn’t been for Nora elbowing him and intervening, thank God, they might never have made it. “He’d love to. He being Alex, and me being Nora, his best friend.” She stuck her arm out.

Henry grinned. “Nice to meet you.” He shook her outstretched hand. 

Catching up, Alex jumped on the opportunity Nora had presented him with, choosing to ignore the superior look on her face. “Yes. Yes, I would. Like to go on a date with you, I mean.” He nodded furiously and, oddly, that seemed to only endear Henry more. “You should know that I’m straight, and I’ve never been on a date with a man, but yes.” 

Henry’s mouth dropped open. “Pardon me,” He was so British. It was adorable. “So, you’ve never dated men…but you’d like to…?”

“No.” Alex had said as if it was completely obvious. 

Henry’s brows furrowed, “Oh.”

“I’d like to date you …I think.” 

“Oh.”

Alex nodded, completely oblivious to Henry’s bewilderment. “Yeah, I’m figuring things out about myself and if you don’t wanna get involved with that mess I’d understand, but also the thought of going on a date does not make me as anxious as I thought it would.” Alex hesitated. He barreled on anyway, as he is wont to do when nervous. “It makes me feel kinda warm.”

Jesus, he was an idiot.

A card-carrying member of the idiot brigade. Who said shit like that? He’d felt Nora physically cringe away from him then, her presence diminishing with every passing second Henry didn’t respond. He’d ruined this whole thing and it wasn’t even a thing yet. 

Henry blinked. “Warm.”

“Yep, warm.”

There were a few moments of silence before Henry spoke again. Alex briefly thought that this was what it felt like when people fell from rooftops or jumped out of a helicopter. He felt like he was freefalling from a cliff and hoping desperately that Henry would be there to catch him despite how completely he’d fucked it up, despite how he obviously was not going to take this bumbling, rambling idiot on a date any longer, probably already regretting his decision to ask. 

Henry’s mouth closed in favour of a grin. “That’s reason enough for me.”

Huh. 

And that had been that.  

Patting his napkin against his chin or invisible crumbs, pristine as always, Henry picks up his wine glass and continues, “I find good communication a bit of a turn-on if I’m honest.” Over the rim of his glass, a smirk. 

“Uh.”

Before he can compute what Henry has said, he carries on as if he hadn’t just rocked Alex’s world, “Anyway, queer spaces are places you’re meant to feel comfortable in. It’s good. I applaud you for trying it out and being comfortable with giving it a go.”

Alex had just popped the last of his dumplings in his mouth. It promptly plummets back to his plate when his mouth falls open in astonishment. “God, I think I just fell in love with you, dude. You’re so fucking good. So good. So fucking kind.”

The tips of Henry’s ears redden and he chuckles. “Yes, I can tell you’re sweet on me: you just called me ‘dude’, after all. The most adoring of endearments for your lover.”

Alex tries desperately to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the mere concept of being Henry’s lover. Of Henry being his lover. Of Henry being his. 

Alex is brought to earth the moment he remembers the salmon dumpling falling out of his mouth. Fuck, that was embarrassing. He can only hope Henry will pretend not to notice the way he’ll also pretend it didn’t happen.

Alex smirks once he’s finally swallowed the soft dumpling, erasing the evidence of his previous encounter with it. “What would you prefer? ‘Your majesty’?

Henry rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not, you menace.”

“Okay, how about ‘doll’?”

“Who are you? An extra that got lost on the way back to the set of Grease ?”

“Rude. ‘Cabbage’?”

Henry shudders. “Nope. That’s my brother’s name for his wife.”

“Fuck, you’re picky. Sugar?”

“You told me your mother used to call you that.”

“Point taken. ‘Darling’?”

“Leaning into the Texan accent with that one is really doing it for me.”

“‘Precious’?”

“Are you going to carry me around in your pocket?”

“Now there’s a thought. How about ‘cupcake’?”

Henry wrinkles his nose. “An ex used to call me that. Makes me feel sickly just thinking about it now.”

Alex grins. “Noted. How about ‘Sweetpea’?”

“Better.” Henry concedes. 

“Sweetheart ?”

Henry smirks. “Acceptable.”

Alex’s heart thumps. Henry is so beautiful. “Baby?”

Before Alex can interrogate the way Henry is paralysed by the word, the waiter is back to remove their plates before the main courses. They’re quiet for a long time, only murmuring ‘thanks’ to the servers who have brought out Henry’s filet mignon with garlic aioli and Alex’s sea bass with smoked aubergine, and refilled their wine glasses. 

Alex feels responsible for this lapse in conversation. Perhaps he’d touched a nerve, maybe one of those ex-boyfriends Henry had talked about used to call him that, or perhaps it was too cringe. Alex decides that it must be on him to get the date back on track. He takes a sip of his wine, now a little sour in his mouth. “So, um, you said you volunteer sometimes? At the Okonjo Youth Centre?”

Henry seems grateful for the change in topic, his shoulders deflating from their tense position by his ears, and Alex tries not to feel disheartened by it. “Er, yes. My friend, Pez, owns it. At first, I thought it would be a lot of organising and admin. And it is that, but often, I just spend time with the kids. There are so many disadvantaged queer youths and I have the privilege of offering at least some of them a safe space. A place to be themselves, to figure things out, and to learn about their place in this universe.”

Alex is so in awe of this man. When Henry offers to shut himself up about his work, he says, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

So Henry continues, a smile on his face. “Alright.” 

“Some of those kids are so brave. And they encourage me to be the same, every day. All the time, we get insults and threats, as many times as we get donations and praise. And every time, I’m reminded of my Grandmother, her overt hatefulness, and even my brother’s more subtle, barbed insults. Looking back, I don’t think he really cared that I was gay, more of what that would do to his… image. Or whatever.

“I was confused, mostly, before I was hurt. They said they ‘didn’t understand’ my homosexuality. As if it was something to understand, you know? What was there to understand? Was it not something to simply accept? I suppose I always knew it was shameful; there were little comments, growing up, about my acting more feminine than my brother; there was the exclusion of an uncle when I was very young which I later learned was because of his choice of companion; there was the constant steering towards young women of ‘our standing’ and ‘the right sort’. It took me a long time to realise what my Grandmother meant. And when I did, it just pushed me further back in the closet, I think.  

“The thing is, though, I shouldn’t have been scared. About coming out. I had my father’s money, my sister’s support. Even without my mother and brother, I had Pez. I will always have Pez,” Henry says this with a soft smile. “And yet, it was the most terrifying thing. I did something brave. If you call running away ‘brave’.” Henry chuckles to himself, seemingly in his own world. When he looks up at Alex again, he’s beaming, though a little bashful, “I know it’s a little silly but I sometimes think that if I can make an impact on just a few of these kids. Make a safe corner of the world for these people. Do something good. Well, I think, that’ll be enough for me. My legacy.”

“God, you’re beautiful.” The words tip out of his mouth, but perhaps the wine has fortified him against shame because it’s true and he believes it and he says so to Henry. “Seriously, that’s amazing. To have the courage to do that, and to continue to do that for others. H, sweetheart, I’m in awe of you.”

Henry flushes. “Thank you, Alex. I appreciate that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Henry barrels on, “I’m very lucky because I’ve found working there to be a huge help in my PH.D. proposal. It’s on queer history, and just talking to some of the kids but also the other volunteers has given me a wealth of information, real information, not just from books, that I could never have even dreamed about. Anyway, I’ve talked to my tutor about it, but that’s all. It’s not set in stone.”

Alex whistles, “Will you do it at NYU?”

“Probably,” Henry shrugs. 

“So I’ll finish Law School and you’ll finish your PHD at the same time.” The possibilities. “If you decide to do it, I mean.”

Coyly, Henry says, “It certainly seems that way.” 

Alex smiles, “Your MA is about queer history, too, right? I think I remember you saying you were reading through, like, hundreds of old letters.”

Henry is once again surprised by how intently Alex has listened to him and is momentarily baffled. Alex should feel offended by how little Henry thinks Alex pays attention. He doesn’t though. “Er, yes, actually. That’s right. I’m collecting letters from significant queer authors and analysing how they expressed their love, not just their queerness, but their queer love . Eventually, I hope to collate them and my findings in a book. Something about queerness transcending time and the universality of love and that sort of thing. I promise it’s a lot more interesting than I’m making it sound right now.” 

“No, no. It sounds awesome.” Alex reassures him, earnestly, “I’d love to read it one day.” 

“Well, maybe I’ll let you.” Henry grins. “I didn’t realise it at the time, but it’s been the basis of my Ph.D. proposal. Whilst I’m looking at historical letters at the moment with my MA, I also want to look at queer love now. I see it all the time in the people around me. Not just their words but their choices, their bodies, their dreams. I want to share it.”

“I’d feel honoured to have it shared with me. To get an insight.”

Henry looks at him quizzically, “Do you not feel like its already a part of you? With you? It’s your history as much as it’s mine Alex. And it’s right there, for any of us to excavate for ourselves.”

Alex’s face feels hold under his skin, like he’s being examined under Henry’s watchful, knowing eyes, “I don’t know, I’m already a whole formed person with a history of my own. Surely it’s too late for me to claim it. It doesn’t feel like my history. Like, I’m not allowed to claim it.”

“Maybe it’s not a feeling, then, but an acceptance,” Henry suggests, gently. 

Alex notices a blanket of tranquillity draping itself across his shoulders. “I feel calm around you. That feels like some form of acceptance.” 

Henry is quiet for a moment. Alex briefly thinks that that may have been too much. Too strong. Has he put him off? And then he says, “I feel the same, Alex.” A smile grows. “Warm, even.”

The tension breaks. “Oh, fuck off, Your Majesty.”

“Back to ‘Your Majesty’, are we?” Henry jokes. “Not very creative.”

Eager to change the subject from his earlier faux pas, Alex chuckles, “Talking of titles. Your name: Henry Fox.”

“What about it?”

“It sounds like a spy’s name.”

Henry blanches. “Well, I’m not sure you’d agree if you heard my full name.”

Alex’s cutlery clink against his plate as he looks up incredulously, “Which is what?”

Henry sighs. “My father’s name was Fox, my Mum’s Mountchristen-Windsor. Add in a few more English boy names from a Top 10 list from the nineties and you have Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.” He grimaces. 

Alex whistles. “And I thought Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz was a mouthful.”

Alex doesn’t realise his mistake until Henry looks up at him through golden lashes, a vision under the restaurant lighting, somehow divine under the brash shadows. “I’m sure he is.”

Alex’s mouth waters with pure want . 

Before he can respond, either in kind or, more likely, bumbling awkwardly, Henry continues innocently, “And anyway, you’re not entirely wrong. My Dad was a spy, in a sense. His name was Arthur Fox.”

The synapses in Alex's brain awaken just enough to parse the connection Henry is presenting. “Wait, hold up, so you’re the son of James Bond? You’re the son of a spy.”

Henry scoffs, embarrassed. “Hardly.” 

Alex has found the rhythm of the conversation once more and smirks, “Hey, I’d give you a license to choke me with those thighs any day, H.”

Now it’s Henry who needs a moment to recover, perplexed by the shift in conversation. “My thighs? You have a thing for my thighs?”

“Well, I never meant to expose myself like that,” Alex admits, “Not yet anyway. But sure. Polo, right?”

Henry blinks. “Yes, how - how did you know?”

Alex blinks back. He’s been caught. “I er,” He clears his throat. “I may have come to one of your games. Matches, whatever. Last month.” Henry’s team had won, he’s pretty sure. Alex hadn’t noticed because Henry had been wearing a red and blue shirt and form-fitting white joggers that made his ass look like it was carved from marble. 

Henry, as if seeing the image in Alex’s head as vividly as Alex himself, ask, “Were you watching me?” Henry’s voice is dangerously dark, and lower than he’s ever heard it. His gaze does not waver as he watches Alex intently, waiting. 

There’s nowhere for Alex to run, pinned under the weight of Henry’s stare. There’s nothing for it but the truth. “Yes.”

When the waiter appears to take their plates away and tempt them with dessert, they turn him down, Henry coughing a couple times and managing a little polite conversation. Alex, on the other hand, does not have the mental capacity at this moment, so just nods along. 

“I’d like to keep my plate, please, I’m not yet done,” Henry says. 

The waiter nods, “Of course, sir.” He turns to Alex who lets him take his practically clean plate and then it’s just the two of them once more. 

“Would you like to try some?” Henry asks, referring to his plate. Alex opens his mouth to decline, but Henry beats him to it. “Don’t say ‘no’ if you don’t mean it. I’d hate for it to go to waste and it really is divine.”

So Alex says ‘yes’. Henry pierces the remaining chunk of filet mignon with his fork and pushes it through the last of the creamy sauce. At first, Alex thinks he’s going to offer the fork to him but instead, Henry gestures for him to drop his hands, says, “Open up,” and leans across the table. 

It really is divine, as Henry said. The flavours are balanced, the meat tender and the sauce compliments it beautifully. But Alex can only think of the way Henry had commanded him to open his mouth and how willingly he’d done it. How good it had felt to have done it. Alex can only think of how his mouth was now Henry’s tool to do with as he pleased and although they were in public, if Henry asked him to keep it open and drop to his knees, Alex would do it. Alex would do anything this man wanted him to right now, entirely under his spell, and isn’t that a terrifying, delightful thing? 

When Alex has swallowed his mouthful, Henry licks his thumb, obscene in its own right, and leans across the table once again to swipe the corner of Alex’s mouth. He brings his hand back to his face and without a moment of hesitation, encloses his mouth around his thumb and fucking sucks on it. “Sorry, you had a bit of garlic aioli, just there.”

Dumbfounded, Alex decides that this restaurant is the last place he wants to be right now, what with the other people surrounding them, the dark restaurant ambiance making it so that he can’t see Henry’s gorgeous face in 4k, and the fucking table separating him from the person he reckons he’ll be spending the rest of his life with, thank you very much. His voice tears from his throat, rough and shattered, “Henry, I swear to God.”

Henry tips his head to the side, feigning ignorance. “What?”

“You can’t -” His voice is caught in his throat, much to Henry’s obvious amusement. He knew what he was doing. Of course, he did. Alex stops himself for two seconds, forcing himself to breathe steadily three times before he glares at Henry. Deadly seriously, he grits out, “If I can’t kiss you stupid in the next 14 seconds, I’ll flip this fucking table.” 

Henry’s mouth freezes around an oh before his brain seems to kick into gear and he leaves the table.

Um.

What? 

Henry leaves the goddamn table. If he were a cartoon character, the speed of his exit would have caused a gust of dust to blow back into Alex’s face.

That was not Alex’s desired outcome. His date fucking leaving. 

Is Alex supposed to follow?

He can’t, he has to pay for the bill.

Was Henry suddenly turned off by him? Fuck, did he go too far? Did he read this wrong? 

Bewildered, Alex can do nothing but wait. So he sits and waits and hopes Henry has just gone to the bathroom. 

Henry returns four minutes later, Alex still gaping at him like a fucking fish. He seems much cheerier than someone who’s just been on a bad date so, at least Alex can rule out that theory. 

“Come on.” Henry’s grinning, his hands fidgeting at his side.

“I -“ What the fuck is happening? Go where? “I have to get the bill.”

“No, you don’t.” Henry is certain of this. 

Alex, on the other hand, is wondering whether Henry is an alien. People have to pay for their meals, even beautiful people like Henry Fox. “Yes, I do.”

“Nope. I just did it. Tipped 30%, as well. I have a lot to be grateful for, after all.”

Alex is about to ask what he means by that before his brain snags on the fact that, “I planned the date. I brought you here.” He sounds angry to his own ears. But, he supposes, he kinda is! He’d invited Henry here, he’d chosen the restaurant he thought would best woo him, he recommended the wine and the parfait and the fucking garlic aioli. 

Henry is nonplussed. “And I asked you out.” He says, simply. 

Alex scoffs. “Sure, but I picked the place.”

Henry, with an amount of grace that Alex does not currently possess, given that he is all of indignant and extremely horny and also halfway in love, swiftly pulls Alex up from his seat by the hand so that they’re practically enveloped in one another. His mouth lifted to one side, his mole almost disappearing with the crinkle of the smile, he says, “You can pay next time. But right now, I have a vested interest in getting you outside of this damn restaurant so you can kiss me silly.” 

Alex’s brain floats. There will be a next time . His hand, he notices belatedly, is still in Henry’s so he holds it properly. “Eager, are we?”

“Yes, very. I’m not ashamed to admit.” Henry is unabashed in his desire and it just makes Alex want him more, in turn. 

“I think I said ‘stupid’, not ‘silly’.” Alex throws backward to Henry as they begin to weave their way through the tables to the front doors. Alex feels Henry roll his eyes behind him.

The host bids them farewell and they manage the same before Alex pulls Henry out the front of Le Beau Monde and towards the sidewalk. Sure, it's not Central Park in the rain or a midnight walk under the stars, it’s not the Seine or the top of the London Eye, but it’s the most romantic place in the world when Alex is finally able to gather Henry into his arms, pull him close, and kiss him deeply, desperately, silly.

For the whole walk to Henry’s apartment, Alex’s hand is in Henry’s. Alex’s hand does not separate from Henry’s for twenty whole minutes. Alex’s hand is grasping Henry’s when they kiss again in front of the door to his apartment. 

Henry is an exceptional kisser. He’s so responsive and open and gives back the same passion that Alex is offering. It’s nothing like kissing a girl. But Alex also knows it’s nothing like kissing a boy because he’s kissing Henry. Anyone else be damned. 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Alex whispers into the inches of space between them. Henry feels too far from him, yet he’s holding onto his sides tightly. It feels so right, and Alex’s mouth drifts towards Henry’s again, eager for another kiss as earth-shattering as the first. 

“How about right now?”

Alex freezes.

Alex is bereft without Henry’s warmth under his fingers. Henry has stepped back, as much as he can in the tiny entryway of his apartment. “Shit, sorry, Alex. I - I didn’t mean to push you into something you’re not ready for, yet. Please forget I said that. I didn’t intend to make you -”

Alex’s brain reboots itself. “No, no wait. I do.” His hands grab for Henry’s waist once more. “I do. Want that, I mean. I’ve just never - well, you know. We’ve talked about it.” He lets out a breath and then lets himself be earnest with himself and with Henry about his want, his desire, and his need for the beautiful man in front of him. Softly, he says, “I just - I really like you, Henry. I want it to be good for you. I want you to feel good, but I don’t know how.”

Henry slowly brings his palm to Alex’s cheek. Eyes dark, his fingers trace Alex’s cheekbone, his bottom lip under the pale thumb, his index wiping under the flutter of long inky eyelashes. “Alex, will you let me show you?”

Alex kisses him again. “Yeah. Please.”

Henry smiles blindingly and tears his eyes from Alex for just a moment to turn and fumble for the door.

“Come on, come on, sweetheart,” Alex mutters, hands still placed on Henry’s sides, though they’ve now found their way underneath the soft shirt. “I’m not ashamed to admit how desperate I am for you.”

The familiar rose blush blotches Henry’s pale cheeks. “Give me a second, you utter demon. It’s hard to concentrate when all I can think about is getting on my knees for you as soon as humanly possible.”

Alex crowds behind him, mouth on Henry’s neck. “Jesus, sweetheart. You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can if they’re true.” With a triumphant smirk, Henry turns, pulls Alex into his flat, and, pushes him against the door as soon as they enter. “I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you - any part of you - for hours.”

“Even when that dumpling fell out of my mouth?” He’s going for sardonic but he’s much too breathless. “Even then?”

“Hours, Alex.”

And, God, that - that shuts him the hell up.

Alex’s face is buried in Henry’s neck, licking at the sweat that has collected in the curve between his shoulder and his neck. Henry practically mewls as he sucks on the soft skin. It is the most delicious sound.

Alex is between his legs, his pelvis pushing up into Henry’s where he’s perched on the entryway table beside the door to his flat, Alex having lifted him ass-first onto it. 

“We should - Christ, love, just there - we should move to the bedroom.” Henry’s fingers are tangled in his hair, and halfway up the white t-shirt he’s wearing, now bunched where Henry’s palm is grasping his pec. His fingers are cool and delicate but certain in their quest and every time Henry squeezes ever so slightly, Alex can’t help but moan. 

“Definitely,” Alex replies but does nothing to achieve that goal. Instead, he mouths his way from Henry’s neck to his chest, finally able to graze his teeth against his sternum. His fingers fiddle with the buttons towards the top of Henry’s shirt and when he’s released a couple, he redoubles his effort against Henry’s skin, leaving a gorgeous pink blush in his wake as he makes his way to one of Henry’s nipples. He’s delighted to discover that his nipples are similar in shade to his lips, though they’re duskier, less overtly red than his lips but no less inviting to Alex. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” He murmurs, though it’s muffled slightly by the connection between Henry’s body and his lips.

Henry breathes out. “Alex, will you -“ He aborts his question, and only then does Alex disconnect from him to look at his face. He’s flushed, chest to cheek, and Alex reckons he’s not faring much better. Henry smacks his lips, parched with desire, and attempts to ask his question again, though much shyer than Alex has ever seen him. “Please can you -“

“What is it, H?” Alex caresses his cheek and Henry leans into the touch, his eyes closed. “Anything, you want, you can have it. I promise you, Henry.”

Henry finally opens his eyes and asks, “Will you call me ‘baby’?

It takes Alex a second and then he’s tipping his head back and laughing. Henry is halfway to indignant before Alex has to reassure him, “I thought you hated it. I thought that’s why you froze when I said it at the restaurant.”

Henry smacks his face with his hand. “Christ no, love.”

“So you were turned on?” Alex knows he’s fishing for compliments but he can’t help it. He’s joy personified right now, having just had the most brilliant date and now with Henry writhing against his body.

“Inconceivably.” Henry snarks, “But yes. It’s never done anything for me before but you - you saying it - I just…”

“Baby.”

Henry melts. 

He pushes softly against Alex to let him down and kisses him again, taking control of their position. He first works the remaining buttons of his shirt open and Alex helps to push the shirt off his broad shoulders, their mouths still connected. But before Alex can step back and marvel at the work of art before him, Henry reaches for the bottom of Alex’s t-shirt. Their mouths part briefly as it’s pulled above Alex’s head and then Henry’s tongue is insistent, on a mission, to gain entry to Alex’s lips. 

They rut against one another lazily before Alex feels the tips of Henry’s fingers at the waistband of his jeans. Alex has seen these fingers blotted with ink from his furious scribbles, has seen the callouses from his piano playing, and has seen the strength of their grip holding the reins of a horse whilst swinging a mallet. 

Here, Henry’s fingers touch him reverently, asking permission, coaxing Alex’s pleasure through cool pressure against his skin. Alex nods. In turn, Henry finally pulls his belt apart and undoes his jeans. He slides them down his legs and breaks their kiss to go with them. Alex groans as Henry pushes his nose into Alex’s crotch, hands grasping behind him to globes of Alex’s ass, massaging them. “Jesus, baby, you’re driving me insane.”

Henry doesn’t reply.

Instead, he looks up at Alex through his lashes, as he had done many times in the restaurant. He’s on his knees, now, framed by the dark hardwood floors of his apartment. It’s a stark contrast. If Alex were a painter, this is the moment he’d capture: Henry looking up at him, eyes wide, lips parted, sweat glistening on his skin in the late May heat of New York City, and ready to give himself over completely to his lover. 

Alex watches him, bottom lip bitten between his teeth, and tries not to fall apart when Henry, deliberately and slowly, sticks his tongue out of his plush red lips to lick a stripe up the clothed line of Alex’s cock, never once breaking eye contact. 

If Alex were a lesser man, and he really could be right now, he’d have come right then. But he intends to have Henry a hundred times over this evening so it’s a feat of sheer will that he doesn’t. 

His hand finds his way into Henry’s hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead and Henry moistens the front of his boxers again. 

“Baby, baby, baby.” It’s an incantation, a chant, a prayer. All of the above. 

Henry whines, pulling Alex’s boxers down and he breathes out a quiet Alex when he sees his cock stand tall before his face. When Henry finally gets his mouth around the head of it, Alex understands so much more about himself than he ever thought possible - namely, that Henry is the best creature he’s ever met and he’d despise the prospect of letting him go. And also, he’s 100% bisexual.

Henry is an expert at giving head - of this, he should have suspected - and makes him come so quickly, he’d be embarrassed if he didn’t think Henry would take it as a compliment. When he looks down - Henry’s head still bobbing, sucking him through his orgasm, eyes bright and trained on Alex’s face - he’s sure that Henry is delighted. 

Henry kisses the head of Alex’s cock before slowly mouthing his way back up his torso, leaving a sparkling trail of saliva that cools in the midnight air, making him shiver. Henry stops his journey to take one of Alex’s nipples into his mouth, lapping at it until Alex is moaning. He takes the other one into his mouth and only when Alex’s hands grip in Henry’s hair and pull ever so slightly does he stop to finally kiss Alex’s lips. “You’re so good, Alex,” The bastard says this as if he knows exactly what kind of praise gets Alex off, “So responsive. I can’t believe I have you in my arms.”

They kiss and kiss and kiss. Alex can taste himself on Henry’s tongue but more than that, he can feel Henry’s lust pushing against his hips, and it drives him insane. He pulls away from Henry’s mouth for a second to say that exactly - “H, baby, you’re driving me insane,” - and Henry grins like the fucking Cheshire Cat. “I need to get my mouth on you, like, 10 seconds ago.”

“Be my guest.”

So, Alex descends to his knees. He asks Henry to stay where he is, pushing him back to lie down, on his elbows, and instruct him from there, watching Alex’s every move. “I know you’ll enjoy that as much as I will, sweetheart.”

Henry blushes and Alex knows he’s read him right. “Okay.” Henry’s voice is hollow, only need remaining and he does as Alex says. Together, they lower his pants from his hips and toss them to the side, somewhere in the ether of Henry’s hallway or something. 

Alex’s hands tremble slightly when he finally sees Henry in his glory, cock standing proud, the same way Alex’s did. His pale, slightly pink, dick is shiny with pre-cum. And, crucially, it’s huge. 

His breath is hot against Henry’s dick. “Jesus fuck that’s a beautiful cock.” 

Henry moans, “You’re one to talk, love. I could barely get my lips around the girth of you.” 

Alex starts by mirroring Henry, licking a stripe upwards, perineum to tip, basking in the length of Henry. Alex hums when he finally tastes Henry, the vibrations causing Henry to throw his head back. “That’s it, Alex. So good.”

He’s barely started, but Alex glows with the commendation. Alex looks across at the vision before him and can’t help murmuring, “Beautiful,” against Henry’s soft, dark blond pubic hair. He inhales, the same way he’d seen - felt - Henry do to him and understands why. He feels consumed: he’s tasting Henry, touching him, gets to see him laid out like this, enveloped in pleasure, gets to hear his delicious sounds, his moans, and mewls, and gets to smell the arousal on his skin. 

He licks up Henry’s length again and when Henry says, “When you’re ready, take the head into your mouth,” he does so immediately. “Yes, yes, exactly like that. Just -” Henry sighs, licks his lips. “Hollow your cheeks a bit.” His words are bitten off by a gruff noise from the bottom of his throat. Alex is just a little bit smug about it. 

He’s hesitant at first. He bobs his head up and down a few times, feeling the weight of Henry on his tongue. Alex finds he enjoys it immensely, especially when he feels Henry’s fingers brush through his curls as Henry breathes out, “Yes, Alex, please.”

Alex takes Henry’s dick into his mouth further and further each time. He’s halfway down after a few minutes before he decides to take the initiative, perhaps a little pre-emptively, to take Henry into his throat as far as he can go. The head of Henry’s dick touches the back of his throat and Henry releases a punched out noise above him, his leg bending with the force of his pleasure. 

Alex has discovered that he doesn’t have a gag reflex. He puts this skill to immediate use, taking Henry’s cock into his mouth as far as he can a number of times before Henry lets out his last coherent sound: “Jesus Christ, Alex!”

Henry can no longer form any lucid thoughts, but Alex can, and he discovers pretty quickly that the thing that seems to drive Henry craziest is Alex taking him all the way in and as he pulls back, suctioning his cheeks the whole way, pushing his tongue pushing into the slit at the head. 

He does this only three or four times consistently before he hears Henry groan, “Fucking eyelashes,” and his head hitting the floor. Henry comes with a breathless laugh.

Alex is inundated with the taste of Henry. The smell of him, the musk of Henry’s body. It’s intoxicating. He wants more. He’s insatiable. He wants his praise, his desire, his love, his lust, his pain, fuck, he wants everything. Anything that Henry is willing to give him. 

Henry needs more than a few moments before he comes to. Alex is patient, slowly lapping at Henry’s length to collect any escaped cum and nurse him through his orgasm. He eventually runs his hand over his face and lets out a soft, “You’re a natural,” against the silence of the evening. 

Alex’s cheeks flush with heat as if he hasn’t just had Henry’s entire cock in his mouth. 

Henry ushers Alex up his body, encouraging him to envelop him in his arms and Alex is more than happy to oblige. He pushes his face into Henry’s neck and rests awhile, Henry’s forearms encircling his shoulders. They breathe together a while, in comfortable silence. 

Alex tells himself that if this is all he gets, he’ll thank his God daily for it. But he hopes there’s more. He needs it. Henry turns his head to Alex’s, his fingers dance across Alex’s chin and coax him into a kiss. They kiss and make out and Alex feels the beginning of a promise in each other's warmth, that this won’t be all there is. Panting into each other’s mouths, they rut against each other on the floor. 

Alex eventually feels Henry’s hand, the one not clutching his neck, trailing down his chest, pausing only to squeeze slightly at his nipples. Alex lets out a moan, almost high-pitched and definitely needy, a sound he’s never heard come from himself before. He feels Henry smirk against his lips as his fingers continue their descent until they eventually find their intended target: his dick. His fingers wrap coolly around Alex’s cock and start pumping him to full hardness again.

Henry pulls away just slightly. “Alex, I’ve been dreaming about you being inside me since the moment we met.” He kisses him, reassuringly, his mouth calm and sweet and sensual. “If you’re not up for it, I’m more than happy to hump on the floor like teenagers until we both come again,” Alex snorts. Henry’s eyes soften, “But if you think you’d want to -

“I do!” Alex cringes at himself. He’s so loud, too eager. Henry doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he feels Henry’s lips at his hairline. “Sorry, um, no I do. I really want to…well, to fuck you. I just -”

Henry pulls away to search his face, looking for the source of Alex’s hesitancy. “Go on,” he says, patiently. 

“Can I - um…can I…” Alex looks away and down at Henry’s navel. Once again, he mirrors Henry and starts touching him, gets his hands on his cock, his lovely round hips, his other hand still tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He breathes deeply. “Can I eat you out?”

Henry blinks like a fucking owl. “Is that -” Henry clears his throat. “Is that something you’d want? You don’t have to Alex. I can open myself up with lube and my fingers and -”

“H. Baby.” Alex cuts him off and in turn, Henry is immediately silent. “I think the image you just put in my head, of you fingering yourself, is diabolical. And if anything, it just made me want to eat your ass even more. So, you know, it’s up to you.”

Henry’s answer is in the way he surges up to meet Alex in a kiss, his lips insistent and hot. He pulls away and Alex almost cries, but Henry is merely adjusting their position. Alex pushes himself to a seated position and is pleased to note that Henry’s cock is as hard as goddamn Big Ben against his stomach. I did that, he thinks. 

Before Alex can ask how he wants to go about this, Henry seats himself in Alex's lap, groaning at the friction between their dicks, and kisses Alex. “You are,” Another kiss, “The most,” Another kiss, this time at his collar bones, “Extraordinary man, Alexander.”

His tone is so fond, that Alex forgets, just for a moment, where they are and blushes crimson, burying his face in Henry’s chest to avoid eye contact. “Shut up, asshole. What was all this about me fucking you?”

Henry laughs good-naturedly but leans in to kiss him again. Whilst up until that point their making out had been rather slow and sensual, with the promise of more on the horizon, Alex finds their kisses becoming fevered and passionate, dirtier and louder. Alex grasps Henry’s shoulder, his other hand landing at the base of his throat so that when Henry moans hotly against his tongue, he can feel the vibration in his palm where they’re pressed together. 

“Are you still sure you want to -”

“Yes, sweetheart, more than anything.”

Henry slips out of Alex’s hold, twisting his body away until he’s on his front. Alex follows, draping himself on top of Henry. As he had done outside Henry’s apartment, he mouths at the base of his neck, now flushed a hot pink. He counts the ridges of Henry’s spine with his tongue and finally finds himself in possession of two smooth, pale cheeks, entirely unblemished. 

His first thought is to bite, so he does. Henry’s breath stutters and his cry is broken as Alex tarnishes the skin of his perfect ass. He licks and bites and sucks until there are deep purple stains across the planes of his ass before he finally pulls them apart to see the tight rim of his hole, pink and tight.

He continues his assault of Henry’s ass against his hole. Although untrained, his enthusiasm allows him to try everything ten times over. He laps over the hole a couple times, feeling Henry shudder beneath him, before becoming bolder and letting his tongue flatten. His rough taste buds cause Henry to yelp, and Alex feels it in his own cock, hard and leaking against the wooden floors of Henry’s entryway. 

“Admittedly,” Henry’s voice is muffled by his mouth being pressed to the laminate flooring. He pushes his face further against it, avoiding Alex’s gaze. “I may have taken a thorough shower before our date in the hopes that this would happen.”

Alex whines. “That’s so hot.” The imagined visual of it almost sends him careening over the edge. 

Henry’s laugh becomes a groan when Alex dives right back in to lick over his pink hole. It has begun to soften under Alex’s ministrations and when Henry’s breath finally evens out, he’s able to instruct Alex once more, “When you’re ready, you can finger me, if you want.”

“If I want? Jesus, sweetheart, I’m obviously not doing a good enough job if you think there’s any doubt about what I could possibly want.” If it wasn’t obvious, it’s everything. “For that, you get to decide how wet my fingers will be when I finally get them inside you.”

Before Henry can question what Alex means, Alex lifts his hand to Henry’s mouth, wiping along the seam of his lips until Henry realises Alex’s intentions and takes his fingers into his mouth. He makes a tentative lick, then sighs. “Your fingers are so much longer than mine, so much thicker.”

“Oh, honey,” Alex practically gasps. 

The two men cry out in tandem as Henry starts taking Alex’s fingers as expertly as he took his cock: his head bounces, his cheeks hollow, and his tongue dances sinfully around the digits, wetting them until they’re drenched. Alex marvels at him when Henry lets him go. He places his fingertip against Henry’s hole and the brief pressure, combined with the cooling saliva, causes a sob to burst from Henry’s chest. “Alex, Christ. Do that again, please, please,” He cries. 

“Of course, baby, of course,” Alex coos, pushing through the ring of muscle that is Henry’s entrance and watching, enraptured, as Henry’s face goes through a flurry of emotions before finally landing on bliss. He starts pumping his middle finger in and out of his body, coaxing his hole to relax with every thrust. Occasionally, he adds his mouth, licking at the flushed skin, just to hear Henry cry out again against the harsh wood that echoes his sobs. He talks Henry through it, “One day, baby, I’m gonna have you show me exactly how you open yourself up.”

He adds a second finger and Henry gasps. “Please.” Henry pleads, as if it were for him, as if he were eager to do that for Alex. “Anything for you, love, anything.”

“You’re gonna show me how you open yourself up and I’m not gonna touch you. You’re gonna get your hole nice and wet for me, talking me through every last detail. You won’t be allowed to touch yourself, and then, right when you’re about to come, I’m gonna stop you, flip you over and fuck into you so deeply that you come before you can say goddamn garlic aioli.” He finally presses in his third finger. 

Henry’s breathy laugh quickly morphs into another shuddering cry as Alex curls his fingers upwards, still mouthing at his entrance between his words. “Alex, please,” He gasps, “I can take it. Please. I can’t last -”

“Yes, you can, baby, yes you can. Gotta be sure, honey.” He licks sweetly at Henry’s hole in a form of apology, marveling at the stretch. But he knows himself, “I want you to feel every bit of me, but I don’t want you to hurt, sweetheart.”

Raggedly, Henry whines, “You’re being much too sweet - ah - considering you’re doing everything in your power right now to lead me to ruin, Alexander.”

Alex bites Henry’s cheek again, just to hear the cry ripped from his throat he adores so much. 

He works Henry to four fingers eventually. He’s so horny, he’s never felt like this, and he’s overjoyed to see that Henry is evidently feeling the same, his cock straining and leaking on the floor so much there’s a puddle. It’s that that makes Alex decide to have mercy on his poor baby. Alex pulls his mouth away from Henry’s ass, wet and leaking, and slaps Henry’s left cheek abruptly, “Come on, sweetheart, I want to see your gorgeous face when I’m inside you for the first time.”

Dazedly, Henry gets to his knees and turns to face Alex. Whilst he’s concerned with getting into position in front of Alex, the other grabs Henry’s cock and pumps a few times, gathering cum. “Alex!” 

Alex coos, smirking, “Sorry, baby, you’re probably a little overstimulated, am I right? Let me kiss you better,” Henry practically falls forward in want and kisses Alex languidly, arms braced on his shoulders to keep him steady. With Henry’s own pre-cum, and some of his own, Alex wets his dick, still kissing Henry.

Alex is so close to letting himself get lost in his desire but knows Henry would appreciate just one more thing: "Henry, baby, got a condom?” Alex whispers into the curve of Henry’s neck, “I mean, I’m clean. Pretty sure my results are in my wallet if you can direct me to wherever the fuck my pants are. But always good to practice safe floor sex, right?”

Henry breathes out a ghost of a laugh, his voice thick, "As opposed to unsafe floor sex? What even is unsafe floor sex?"

Alex wrinkles his nose, "Unsanitary, I guess."

"Just -" Henry swallows, "There. Over there. First little drawer."

He points Alex to the little entryway table he'd been pushed up against not twenty minutes ago. Alex raises his eyebrows but shuffles forward to open the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a couple of loose condoms, "You keep -"

"Yes, I keep supplies in every crevice of this flat, don't read too much into it."

"Alright, alright, I won't," Alex says, crawling back to where Henry is barely holding himself upright, "Not yet, anyway. No, I'm too busy being grateful. I mean," Pulling Henry's body towards him by the thighs, he places his lips at the column of his throat, "I'm about to fuck you on the floor of your hallway. We didn't even make it past the door, sweetheart."

Henry shivers, "You're a sex fiend, what was I meant to do?" Henry lifts his body once Alex has rolled on the condom and manages to straddle Alex’s lap once more, his own broad polo thighs spread wide. He places a hand on Alex’s dick to carefully guide him to his entrance. “Since we're on the topic, I’m clean, too.” Alex nods. He believes him, of course he does, but Henry still explains, “We can get free tests at the shelter and I like to set a good example.” He smiles, wryly before his gaze darkens on Alex’s face again. “And I want this, I want this too much to think about stopping myself, however briefly, from getting exactly what I want.” Alex’s dick finally breaches the hot cavern of Henry’s entrance and he almost cums, overwhelmed and bewildered, immediately. Knowingly, Henry kisses Alex and whispers into his ear, “Which is you.”

“Henry.”

Henry slowly lowers his body onto Alex, the two men breathing in and out at the same time. For a few moments, that’s all they can hear, before Henry breaks it once more, “You’re bigger than any -“

Alex scoffs, his cheeks red and sweaty, “Sweetheart, yours is -“

“Yes,” Henry cuts him off, a pointed look in his eyes that causes Alex to close his mouth sharply, “but the stretch, God,” the word is punctuated by a wild keen, “If I wasn’t so horny and wet and open for you, I’d think it could kill me.” Alex briefly thinks there must be a camera on him. This must be a prank. There is no way the sexiest, most beautiful creature he has the pleasure of knowing, let alone fucking, just said that to him. 

“For me, baby?” Henry nods, eyes still closed as he continues to lower himself onto Alex’s dick, and Alex blanches. “That’s the fucking sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

With Henry’s own closed, he doesn’t notice the hardened look in Alex’s eyes. He’s determined. Alex tightens his hold on his waist, above the curved hips and broad thighs, and flips them over. Henry winces against the cold slats of the floor before his features smooth again in pleasure when he feels Alex resuming his previous voyage inside of him, slowly descending into the cavern of his body until they’re sharing it. He bottoms out and they both groan.

Henry reaches out for Alex’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “Just a -” He whimpers. “Just a moment, love.”

“However long you need, baby, I’ll wait.”

Henry rocks his hips side to side, getting used to Alex’s length inside him. Alex is desperate, on the precipice of the most insane orgasm of his life, but holds himself back. He’s not gonna fuck this up, he swears.

Henry finally nods and Alex pulls his hips back, starting a leisurely pace of thrusts upwards into Henry’s body. His knees are planted firmly to give him the leverage to do so. He kisses Henry languorously, as unhurried as his thrusts, and watches as Henry’s face relaxes entirely, eyes closed and head thrown back. 

Henry lets out a deep groan before grasping Alex’s head, bringing their mouths together once more. The kisses are sloppy now, uncoordinated, but when Henry begins bouncing in his lap, Alex sees stars behind his eyes.

He knows his second orgasm is quickly approaching so he grabs Henry at the waist and without warning flips them over so that Henry is under him. Henry whimpers, stuffed full of Alex, all-encompassed by Alex, but continues to grasp onto the other’s body tightly, his fingers digging into Alex’s back for purchase. 

With the hardest of thrusts, Henry is practically wailing against Alex’s lips and Alex isn’t doing much better. Fucking Henry on the floor of his entryway is the most transcendent experience of his existence; arms reaching up and out, parallel to one another, fingers intertwined, stark against the dark wood. Once more, Henry comes with a breathless laugh and the sound is so divine to Alex’s ears that he follows not a moment later. 

“If it wasn’t obvious before, I also really like you,” Henry says, voice distant. 

Alex laughs, his eyes on the ceiling but his body is electrically aware of Henry beside him, just a few inches of separation between them. He turns his head to see Henry with his eyes closed, a smile gracing his divine features, basking, bathing in the aftermath. His hands are resting on his stomach and his body is laid out unselfconsciously on the floor, moonlight highlighting the planes of his glistening skin. 

He feels like a child, but he has to ask. What was, for Alex, a transcendent experience, may just have been a drop in the pond for Henry; his every date. He can barely bring himself to ask above a whisper, “Was that okay?”

Henry’s eyes open, stricken. “Okay?” His voice is sharp, cutting Alex close to the heart. He scoffs. Alex dies just a little inside, but then he raises himself to his elbows, licking his lips, and states, “Alex, it was un-fucking-beliavable.”

“Really?” He can hardly believe Henry feels the same. If everyone gets a thing, he really hopes Henry is his. This really could be the beginning of something, his something. 

Henry smiles. “Yes, God, yes. And not just the sex, though that was stupefyingly good. It just told me that what I felt in the restaurant was not a fluke. It was real. The date - I mean, I’ve never connected with someone like that before. I’ve never felt like this before.” Alex turns his head back to the ceiling. He wants to kiss Henry’s stupid face, he’s so happy. “Was it good for you?” Surprisingly, he seems as hesitant about the answer as Alex was, “Alex?”

Alex’s back against the hardwood floor is killing him. It’s hard and inflexible, his shoulder blades are rubbing against the grain and his ass is cold, yet he’s overjoyed to declare, “I’m definitely bisexual and I am definitely, unbelievably into you.”

Henry laughs. His sweat squeaks along the floor as he scooches his body towards Alex’s. Alex opens his arms and Henry folds right in. “Glad to hear it. Both things. Thank you for telling me.” They make out lazily for a little longer before Henry cushions his head on Alex’s chest. “You’ll stay, yes?”

“Please. I don’t wanna let you go now.” He says it like a secret. It kind of is. If secrets are our deepest, most profound, and protected truths, then it certainly is.

“You don’t have to,” Henry promises in return. 

“We can sleep in your bed, though, right?”

“Of course, love,” Alex feels Henry nod against his chest. “Though I’m loathe to move just yet.”

“Neither.” Alex sighs, content, his fingers winding into Henry’s blond tresses. What was previously rather straight has curled slightly with the sweat of his crown. He can’t imagine how frizzy his own curls must be right now. “And I wanna do this again. The date, too, obviously.” He doesn’t tell Henry that he’s basically imagined a whole life for them at this point. “All the other mundane stuff. And I know you said tonight was good for you too, but you’re gonna have to teach me a whole bunch more.” He stops his ministrations in Henry’s hair to press a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll be the most enthusiastic student though.” 

Henry chuckles, though he’s quickly stifling a yawn, too. “I do not doubt it, love.”

Every time Henry calls him that, he feels fuzzy and warm. “You’re gonna have to teach me so much, baby. I want everything. I want to try everything. I want to do everything. I want everything with you.”

Henry’s eyes shine up at him. He lifts his body from where it’s pressed against Alex’s and leans down to kiss him gently. It’s almost chaste compared to the other kisses they’ve shared this evening but it’s no less wonderful. “It would be my pleasure.” He smirks. “Literally.”

When Alex wakes to Henry's arm clutching him from behind, cozy and soft, his head feels floaty from all the damn good sex and the damn intense feelings he has for the cute librarian that invited him into his bed.

It's only later, when they're fucked out after multiple more orgasms each, and eating takeout on the couch in front of the new episode of Young Royals that he notices the two metal containers underneath the entryway table he'd shoved Henry against the night before, and where he'd found the 'supplies'. 

"Wait, you have a fucking dog?"