Alex blinks his eyes open and a few things happen simultaneously: his head aches as if he’s been run over by a train; bright, white lights flood his eyes causing him to groan and close them again, leaving black fuzzies just behind his lids; a person gasps by his side and scrambles to hold his hand.
Damn. This is the absolute worst hangover he has experienced in his life, and he doesn’t even remember drinking last night. Alex is known to go a bit too far at parties, never one to turn down a round of shots with anyone who offers—a free drink is a free drink, after all. Alex, who had struggled making friends as a pre-teen due to his undiagnosed ADHD and intense desire to be the best at everything he did, would do anything to have friends, no matter how temporary it may be.
He spent his whole life crafting the perfect personna, a character out of a book written strictly for the female gaze. He was a “party boy,” an unmitigated flirt, a romance novel heartthrob, etc., etc., etc.
In reality, Alex is putty: Fitting into any mold and holding his shape just long enough for social interactions. That’s his Superman form. His Clark Kent form only leaves his house to go for runs or hide out at the local library because the ambiance is nicer than his home office.
—Except, he’s pretty sure it’s f*cking Tuesday. He knows June and Nora save alcohol for the weekends (and certain heartbreak that meets their Drink Your Feelings Away criteria, trademark pending.) Maybe it was a work function? However, there’s no chance in God’s green earth that his boss would have allowed him to drink so much on a weeknight and let him live.
“Oh my god, Alex, are you awake?” he hears a frantic, distinctly English and decidedly male, voice say at his side.
It takes him another few seconds to attempt to open his eyes again, this time more prepared for the inevitable blinding. Once his eyes adjust, the first thing he sees is an angel haloed by the same crisp, LED lights that flooded his retinas before. They are softer now, like a glow emanating from this creature with golden hair made of the finest silk and blue eyes reminiscent of Lake LBJ in the summer, which Alex finally notes look down on him with unadulterated concern.
“Am I dead?” he blurts out, despite the pricking pain in the back of his skull that would indicate being very much alive.
The angel chuckles incredulously, concern melting away into something fonder. Fingers lightly touch his forehead before they’re brushing through his curls.
“No, you menace. You somehow survived taking a football ball to your big head. I was hoping it would deflate it a little but..” he makes a show of slowly tilting Alex’s head side to side, “Nope. Still as big,” the Angel said in a playful tone.
“Not as big as my—“
“Yes, alright, that’s enough of that. How’s your head? It was a nasty hit,” blonde, tall, and gorgeous continues hastily. Alex’s eyes had adjusted to the light enough to see the pink coloring the highs of this walking Vogue Ad campaign’s cheeks. He felt himself grin wickedly, seeing another opportunity to flirt.
“Pretty f*cking stellar last I heard, want a demonstration?”
He is so fascinated by the way Prince Charming’s eyebrows furrow then shoot up to his hairline as he finally understands what Alex is implying, the desire to bite his now truly red cheeks growing exponentially.
“Oh, god, the concussion must be worse than the doctor said it’d be,” he muttered to himself, taking a tiny step back from Alex.
“I might have a concussion but I’m not blind, sweetheart. You’re f*cking gorgeous.” Alex claims solemnly. He gives the man a predatory once over and asks, “Hey, how do you feel about children?”
“What?”
“Need to put a baby in you. You’ve got the hips for it,” and has the audacity to wink as he says it.
The blush on the other man’s cheeks appears to be permanent at this point. He seems to struggle with his words for a bit before quietly muttering, “I can’t do this,” to himself as he fiddles with something at Alex’s bedside, and within seconds a nurse is welcoming herself into the room.
“Hello, Mr. Claremont-Diaz, how are you feeling? It’s good to see you awake,” she says in a friendly voice as she checks his vitals and fixes his IV.
It’s only then that Alex truly takes in his surroundings, the very white walls and the sterile smell of the room. By God, he’s sitting in a hospital bed. Maybe he truly is on his deathbed.
“Sorry, do you see the angel too or am I actually dying?” he asks her in a stage-whisper, nudging his head towards the man of all of his wet dreams and fantasies.
The nurse lets out a hearty laugh as she looks over at sex-on-legs, then back at Alex with a playful twinkle in her eyes.
“I can assure you your boyfriend is very real and you’re not dying at all.”
“Oh, I’m not—“
“Boyfriend? Oh, f*ck yeah! I can’t believe I bagged someone so beautiful,” Alex says with a dreamy sigh, turning his head towards his boyfriend (!!! Wow !!!) to give him a dopey smile.
The man clears his throat and turns his attention fully on the nurse. “Do you think the doctor could check up on him soon? I’m not sure if the pain medication is set too high or if there is more to this concussion. He’s acting a bit…funny.”
“It’s not the novocaine, baby, I’m just high on love,” Alex drags out the “o” in love as he holds his hand out towards Henry and wiggles his fingers.
“I’m hurt. The doctor prescribed kisses to make me feel better,” he continues, making kissy gestures with his lips. He almost whines like a petulant child as the nurse laughs but his boyfriend (in neon lights) just stands frozen still, as if petrified.
“I will call him over, but kisses wouldn’t hurt his recovery,” she says with a wink and then excuses herself while saying something about young love.
Still, his boyfriend (with hearts written around it) doesn’t move. Just stands there, looking at Alex like he’s a wonder of the world that he’s discovering for the first time. A few more seconds tick by before Alex finally whines.
“Babyyyyy, kisses please!” He demands, weaponizing his big brown eyes and batting his eyelashes, lower lip jutted out in a pout. It’s the same look he used to give June as an 8 year old to get an ice cream sandwich before dinner when their parents were working late.
The man finally moves, albeit tentatively, and presses a hesitant kiss to Alex’s forehead. It’s quick, barely a brush of lips on skin.
“Baby, no. Kiss.” Alex demands, lips pursed and ready.
His boyfriend (hehehe) hesitates for another second before heaving a deep breath and planting a big, firm smooch to Alex’s awaiting lips.
Alex feels all the tension in his muscles drain at once, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation. He feels the man beginning to pull away but he absolutely can’t have that, so he brings one hand up to tangle in the blonde locks and the other to gently cup his jaw, keeping his head in place as Alex kisses the life out of him. He feels like a man that has walked the desert for miles, for days, and finally found an oasis. Alex drinks him up like water, like kissing this man is his only salvation.
“Thoughts on eloping? I’d like to consummate our marriage post haste.” Alex says matter of factly against his boyfriend’s lips, unwilling to part so soon. He doesn’t even let the man answer as he presses more pecks against pillow soft lips.
They pull away when there’s a knock on the door and a new voice says, “Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I’m coming in to check in on you.”
His boyfriend (boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend) puts an ocean’s distance between them, face flushed red and eyes shining with an emotion Alex’s drug addled brain can’t identify.
The doctor does a routine check up, reviews his vitals, and updates something on the chart.
“Alright, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Tell me the last thing you remember.”
Now that he is prompted to think about it, Alex’s memories feel incredibly fuzzy. He thinks about the persistent ache in his head that makes his skull feel as if it’s being crushed by a hydraulic press. More importantly, he realizes that he doesn’t know the name of his supposed boyfriend. His eyes lock onto the nervous man sitting in the corner of the room, as if not trying to draw attention to himself.
Alex doesn’t know him. Not his name, not how they know each other, not a damn thing except that his heart stutters in his chest and a rabble of butterflies fill his stomach at the sight of the man. He knows, in a scientific, text-book definition kind of way, that he is in love with this man. He just doesn’t know how or when that happened.
The pain in his brain seems to intensify. He closes his eyes and groans loudly. When he opens them, the man is on his feet and has shifted closer to Alex, but not close enough. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out to Alex but can’t.
This man is someone important to him. They are important to each other. But who is he?
“I’m…not sure. Um. The last thing I remember is grabbing coffee with my friend, Nora, from the campus Panera. It was after a public relations test. We weren’t there for long, I don’t think. Now I’m here?” His voice hitches at the end, anxiety creeping up his chest and threatening to block his throat. Why can’t he remember how he got here? The man (his boyfriend, right?) mentioned a soccer ball, which puzzles Alex further because he doesn’t play soccer, much to Oscar’s chagrin.
The doctor hums noncommittally as he types into Alex’s chart.
“Mr. Fox, are you able to provide any context for how much time has passed since then?”
The man—Mr. Fox, apparently—is startled out of his stupor and says, “That.. it was 6 years ago. You took public relations in your last year of undergrad…”
Alex’s brain feels blank. What the f*ck? 6 years ago? That’s impossible.
“Mr. Claremont-Diaz, can you tell me what your relationship to Mr. Fox is?”
“He… he’s my boyfriend? I think? I’m in love with him, I know that for sure.”
Mr. Fox makes a choked kind of sound, eyes wide and wet. Alex has no idea what’s happening and he feels f*cking sick. The butterflies feel like dragonflies now, too big and moving too erratically in his stomach.
Why can’t he remember Mr. Fox? What is his name?
“Mr. Fox? Can you confirm?”
Somehow, he looks sick too as he shakes his head a bit. “We’re not..dating. We’re roommates. Childhood friends, actually.” Then he turns to face Alex again. “Alex, what’s my name?”
Alex must look like a ghost, all the color drained out of his face if the horrified look passing over Mr. Fox’s (not boyfriend?) face is anything to go by.
“I…I don’t know. I don’t remember.” For some reason, that brings tears to Alex’s eyes, powerless to keep them from spilling out. He’s incredibly distraught. Alex feels so much for this stranger he can’t remember, this stranger he was sure was his boyfriend because of how right his heart feels in his chest whenever Mr. Fox stands close by, but it turns out they’re not together? They’re just friends.
Why are they just friends?
Alex loves him so much.
Then.. That must mean that--Oh.
Oh!
He didn’t even think.
Right.
Alex is the boy everyone loves but not really, never genuinely and never from the heart. He is loved like a passing trend. A thing that goes viral for a bit but is eventually replaced by the next, new exciting thing.
Just like his friendships, romance only finds him fleetingly. Temporarily.
He’s not sure why he feels so gutted. He’s always known he loves too much, too loud. Of course, he’s in love with his best friend-slash-roommate and it’s entirely one-sided because how could a person so radiant love him back? If they’re roommates, Mr. Fox is intimately familiar with the coffee induced panic attacks Alex puts himself in when he’s too focused on getting an important task done, or the way he’s up until 2am most nights due to severe insomnia. Worse yet, he’s seen Alex in glasses and unwashed curls, wearing a worn out UT Austin hoodie that once belonged to his dad because he is too sentimental to let it go.
Of course Mr. Fox doesn’t love him back.
Alex is back to wishing he was dead.
He pathetically dries his tears with the back of his hand and nearly rips the IV needle out of his hand. He has to suck it up and endure a few more questions to gauge just how bad his amnesia is. Alex can still remember his family and his dog, David. Some of his law school memories are dusted off and placed back on their correct shelf, and he begins to recall the law firm he works for and his boss, Mrs. Bankston. Still, Mr. Fox is wiped from his memories like a Men in Black bit.
“Mr. Claremont-Diaz, it appears you are suffering from mild amnesia as a result of your concussion, which I am classifying as grade III given the new information. Your CT scan did not appear abnormal, so there is no concern of any brain injuries. You may continue to feel headaches for a week or two while your external injuries heal. Amnesia associated with concussions is very short-term, your memories should return intact within 24 hours. I’d like to evaluate you again in two weeks, to be sure. I will prescribe acetaminophen 600 for the headaches and you should avoid physical exercise for two weeks. I will have a nurse work on your discharge. Do you have any questions for me, either of you?” The doctor looks at both men expectantly for a few prolonged seconds. “Alright, if you need anything else, please contact the office. Take care, Mr. Claremont-Diaz, Mr. Fox.”
The room becomes eerily quiet with the departure of the doctor, save for the beeping of the vital signs monitor. How can he bring himself to make eye contact with Mr. Fox?
Oh, god, Alex made his childhood friend kiss him and practically devoured him when he’d tried to pull away.
Alex sits in his hospital bed rigidly, all of his muscles stiff and damn near cramping from how still he is staying. Only his fingers move, as they pick at the bed sheets beneath him. This is f*cking mortifying.
It just doesn’t make sense.
Surely, in the last 6 years, Alex would have made a move on Mr. Fox and gotten rejected. At that point, they would have gone their separate ways, right? Or at least, they wouldn’t still be living together. It would be awkward for Mr. Fox to continue living with someone harboring such feelings for him. Unless Alex promised to move on and pretended to be successful because, given the blackhole beginning to eat his heart from the inside out, he was not f*cking successful.
Alex can’t keep his curiosity at bay.
“I’m so f*cking sorry I forced you to kiss me. When the nurse said…so I really thought…You should have corrected me.” Alex groans and buries his fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at it in embarrassment.
This is why he doesn’t have any f*cking friends.
Mr. Fox quietly moves to sit next to Alex again, reaching out to untangle his fingers from his hair and hold his hands instead. Embarrassingly, Alex thinks he’s going to cry again. He feels so warm and so right being this close to Mr. Fox. Maybe it’s the friendship thing. If they’re childhood friends, then Alex’s body has grown accustomed to Mr. Fox’s warmth and presence, even if his brain hasn’t caught up with the program yet.
“Alex, we’ve been friends for 15 years, there was never any indication that you had feelings for me... Your brain is probably too rattled right now.” Mr. Fox assures him in such a kind, gentle voice, though his face looks like he’s reeling from the massive bomb Alex just dropped on him.
f*ck. Apparently those feelings were an inside thought.
Well. That explains the cohabiting thing. Mr. Fox never knew and now Alex has made it weird.
“Have,” Alex corrects quietly.
“Hm?”
“I have feelings for you. Present tense. Listen, I really don’t know why pre-concussion me never made a move, but he’s a f*cking idiot.” Alex says honestly because he simply cannot wrap his head around having this beautiful creature at his side for so long and never saying anything.
Unless it’s because Mr. Fox already has a partner.
Oh, f*ck.
Wait, no, he surely wouldn’t have kissed Alex if he wasn’t single.
Maybe he’s just not into men?
But he kissed him. Multiple times, his brain reminds him rather unhelpfully.
The only logical conclusion is that he isn’t into Alex. He knew he was attractive, shoutout puberty, but it didn’t mean he was even close to Mr. Fox’s type.
Alex was probably always in love with Mr. Fox, and Mr. Fox never saw him as more than the childhood friend he is saddled with out of stubborness.
His self-reflection is interrupted by Mr. Fox’s melodic laughter.
“Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” he scolds Alex with a stern look but his smile.. it turns Alex’s insides to liquid mercury.
“You might think I’m beautiful but I’m quite a bore. I guess you don’t remember any of my personality traits right now, but if you did then you’d understand why pre-concussion you wasn’t very interested in me.” He adds with his sad eyes downcast and a self-deprecating smile replacing the joyful one from before.
“No, you don’t get it,” he begins to argue. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing the subject but he feels desperate to replace the sadness swimming in the other man's eyes, and hopes his affection is enough to bring a smile back. Even if it’s unrequited, it might be flattering to know he is loved dearly.
Their conversation is cut short by the same nurse from before walking in to work on discharging Alex. Both boys exchange a look that conveys we’re not done yet and follow along with the nurse. The clothes he wore prior to his hospitalization are returned to him and within minutes they’re making their way home.
——
The strangest feeling is walking into a home he recognizes and seeing unfamiliar items scattered around. He recognizes his laptop sitting on the coffee table and the quilt his abuela gifted him for his birthday last year, but he doesn’t recognize the light blue cardigan draped over the back of the couch. There are framed photos that he remembers taking, but the ones featuring Mr. Fox have very blurry memories attached to them. It’s like a tickle in his brain trying to jumpstart his neurons to recall those connections. He feels them there, deeply dormant but present.
Alex feels relief at the sound of jingling and claws tapping against tile as a dog emerges to greet them.
“David!” He greets excitedly, like meeting an old friend. He drops down to the ground to scratch just under David’s chin and shake his floppy ears. “Such a good boy.”
“Glad to see your synapses prioritized my dog over me,” Mr. Fox says in jest, although some bitterness clings to his tone. Alex doesn’t blame him. He wishes he had an explanation for his selective amnesia. Even if the feelings are unrequited, it’s f*cked up to forget his very best friend.
“Maybe it’s because David is nice and gives me kisses. You know my brain is reward based,” Alex replies just as jokingly, wanting so badly to keep up the light atmosphere. Despite the look exchanged in the hospital, he wishes to shelve his confession and leave it forgotten.
Taking in his surroundings, he can tell they have built a very cozy life here. They must have a strong, wonderful platonic relationship he does not wish to muck up with his feelings. Alex is realizing that Mr. Fox is his only other true friend after Nora, who he isn’t 100% certain isn’t only continuing to humor him because he’s her girlfriend’s little brother. They may have met first, but whatever.
Mr. Fox is the only person in his life that is around willingly, no ulterior motives. Alex can’t afford to f*ck that up, especially not when his brain is kind of fried and he’ll need a friend to help him readjust to his life while the concussion wears off.
“I give pretty good kisses, too. I seem to recall you having a lovely time at the hospital,” Mr. Fox points out from his spot in the kitchen. There’s a playfulness in his eyes that really suits him. It makes the heavy feeling caving Alex’s chest in, right where his heart would be, absolutely worth it. Alex can be the butt of the jokes if it means maintaining their comfortable friendship. He can turn his once private crush on his roommate into a cute thing they can laugh about.
They’re friends, it’s fine. It’s better than rejection.
“A bit inconclusive, I’d say. All scientific studies require multiple trials,” Alex replies while getting off the ground to make himself comfortable by the kitchen eat-in counter instead. David follows him, so he uses his foot to pet the dog’s back.
A mug appears in front of him. He peers down at it but knows even amnesia could not make him forget his love for coffee with a pinch of cinnamon.
His little heart shudders in his chest.
How is he supposed to go back to pretending his roommate is less than the love of his life? How did he even do it before? It’s unfathomable.
“Did your law degree teach you that, then?”
“Law and science are kind of similar. It’s all evidence based, sweetheart,” he retorts with a wink.
He should be jailed.
It’s impossible to not flirt with Mr. Fox when his cheeks turn pink at every compliment and pet name thrown his way. There’s no way Alex was ever subtle about his feelings before.
At the hospital Mr. Fox claimed there was never any indication of his feelings, yet flirting with him comes as easily as breathing to Alex. Maybe he’d grown so accustomed to it that he didn’t take any of Alex’s advances seriously, just banter between friends.
That was almost worse.
His current working theory is that in all 15 years of friendship, Mr. Fox has never been romantically interested in Alex and that hurts so f*cking bad but it does make sense.
Alex was a nerdy teenager with braces and terrible acne, an absolute chatterbox and a worse scattered brain pre-Ritalin. He was better at fitting in during high school, after his skin cleared up thanks to June’s curated skin care routine and his therapist officially diagnosed him with ADHD. Still, he knows he had some pretty serious social pitfalls even with the medication and some other annoying habits and traits that were woven into his DNA, which made him unpalatable for general audiences.
Alex was never an option. Even his good looks couldn’t save him.
Sitting there with his perfectly brewed and prepared coffee, Alex can’t decide if the ache in his head or his chest hurts more. Unfortunately, the pain medication won’t help much with heartbreak.
He decides to chug his coffee, much to Mr. Fox’s dismay, and plans a quick escape.
“I think I’m going to sleep off the rest of the medicine in my bloodstream and hope to wake up with my head on a little straighter tomorrow. Well. Not straight-straight. Bisexual head, with less amnesia.”
Was he always this bad with words?
At least his roommate snorts at that a bit but the smile he sends Alex is too sad to ignore.
“Oh. Alright. Will you be joining me for dinner? I can order us something.”
“It’s probably for the best if I don’t.”
Alex desperately wants to stay and spend time with Mr. Fox, relearn everything about him to figure out why his pre-concussion self didn’t even try to woo this exquisite specimen, but one thing the concussion didn’t make him forget is how much effort Alex has put into not imposing himself on others. Right now, he’s just not strong enough to be around Mr. Fox without turning into one of those cartoon wolves who whistle and develop heart eyes at the sight of their beloved. The urge to sit on his lap and kiss him some more overwhelms him. But he can’t.
They are not dating.
They are childhood friends.
Roommates.
Everything but two people who love each other.
If it wasn’t for this pesky concussion, he would be going for a brutal run to dispel this energy. A tickle in his brain leads him to believe that’s exactly how he dealt with his crush before: avoid and ignore.
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Fox asks him with an irritatingly adorable expression. How does anyone exist around this man without kissing him all the time? Lord, give Alex the strength. “We always eat dinner together.”
“I am a weak man, Mr. Fox. I don’t think I can be around you without doing something incredibly unhinged like.. hold your hand or kiss your forehead.”
Mr. Fox’s face does something funny at that, like he can’t decide whether he wants to smile or grimace. Fair.
“My name is Henry and that is pretty tame for you, dear.”
Alex groans once again.
“I am trying to be both sincere and PG here, Mr. Henry. You have to know that.”
“You’ve never censored yourself around me before. You forget, I know you quite well, Alex.”
“Obviously not well enough! I think I have been pretty censored all along, Mr. Henry.”
“You have a terrible poker face and you’re a worse liar. I know you.” Henry accuses, arms crossing over his chest as he squints at Alex like he’s a puzzle that’s close to being solved.
“Then you must know that “hold your hand and kiss your forehead” is my polite company way of saying that I want to bend you over the couch and take you apart with my tongue, but you don’t like me like that and I know I’m not tactless enough to have a one night stand with my f*cking best friend. I need to get out of here until I can act right around you again. How’s that for uncensored?”
He doesn’t realize he’s raised his voice until the last word echos a bit. He’s somehow heaving, too, entirely out of breath. He takes a step back just as Henry’s arms drop back down to his side, mouth opened in shock. The flush in his cheeks seems to travel down his chest and Alex is curious to see how far it goes. What other parts of him flush so prettily?
“What has gotten into you? That hit rattled your brain too much.”
“If you’re always this f*cking obtuse, I kind of get why I never said anything before.”
“Alex, you’re so confused right now. You don’t mean what you’re saying and you will come to regret it when your brain functions are back on track,” Henry says, like it pains him more to say than it does Alex to hear.
“I might be a bit forgetful right now, but you don’t get to tell me how I feel. The way my heart expands in my chest like a..like a f*cking hot air balloon when I look at you is real, Henry. I know I love you. That is second nature. It’s in my DNA. And it’s fine that you don’t feel the same way, I must have always known you weren’t into me. I bet I kept it under wraps to protect our friendship,” and Alex winces at that. “Well, so much for that. But you don’t have a right to say it’s not real.”
Is he so undesirable that even his feelings are a burden to Henry? He would never, ever act on them, he knows that much. The kiss at the hospital was an honest lapse in judgment. The nurse put an idea in his head and he reacted to that. Henry played along, for some equally f*cked up reason, and now they both have to deal with the consequence.
The realization that this is entirely his fault lands on his head like an anvil.
Henry had hesitated back then, at the hospital. Alex pushed, like he always does. He’s never known how to leave well enough alone. Even as an adult, he’s worse than a child who needs to get his way or he’ll throw a tantrum.
He’s the reason their friendship is tumbling like a house of cards before them.
He needs to let go, for once in his goddamn life.
Alex inhales at the count of three and exhales just as long.
He can fix this.
He has to fix this.
“Listen. Can I transfer over some of my amnesia to you so you can forget I said that? We can go back to our normal lives and pretend that confession was a joke, a thing my amnesia invented. And then when my memories of you come back, it will be easier to ignore because I’ll relearn how I held it in for so long. It doesn’t have to be weird,” he insists, almost begging.
“Alex..”
“I swear to you. I am a master at masking now, you won’t even know it’s there. You didn’t before, right? I can be totally cool. Sooo cool and normal. A good best friend.” He nods a few times for emphasis and contorts his face to the most convincing smile he can muster. He shoves his hands into his pockets to hide the tremor in them.
It’s fine, he’s fine, this is so totally cool.
“But what if I don’t want to forget?” Henry asks with his chin jutted out stubbornly and Alex wishes he would have some mercy on his poor heart because god, that is the hottest thing ever. Alex wants to eat him up, so badly. Maybe he could be the kind of person to sleep with his best friend just once to get it out of his system once and for all. If Henry can be convinced…
“Why wouldn’t you? You don’t need to live with the burden of my feelings. I will make it go away.”
Alex thinks he honest to god whimpers when Henry takes enough steps towards him to be standing toe-to-toe. He reaches out to tug Alex’s hands out of his pocket, holding them preciously in his own hands and running a soothing thumb over the back of them.
Alex stares down at their hands, convincing himself that they’re not a perfect fit, before looking up into Henry’s eyes. He hopes his own gaze conveys confusion and a plea for Henry to be kind. Henry bites his lip for a few seconds as he makes up his mind about something. He brings Alex’s hands up to press a single soft kiss to them, then squares his shoulders.
“Because I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen and you slept in my bed every night for weeks after my father died.”Henry confesses in one swift breath.
Alex’s lungs cease to work.
“This is probably the worst timing. You might forget again or the memories will come back and you’ll realize you don’t actually love me romantically, that you’ve confused your feelings of friendship for more, but I need you to know that I love you so much, Alex. There is not a single person in the world who has met you and not been utterly bewitched by your beautiful brain and your kind heart. You are so, so much, in all of the best ways. You’re everything.” He somehow manages with a shaky voice, probably gripping too tightly to Alex’s hand.
All of Alex’s thoughts screech to a halt, car crashing sounds and sirens filling his ears. His mind fully blanks again as he tries to rewrite his understanding of his whole life.
If Henry has loved him since they were teenagers, before puberty hit, then.
“What the f*ck?” He says out loud, a little breathlessly for someone who has been standing still the whole time. His heart beats in his chest like he’s run a 5k.
“I’m sor—“
“No, stop! Stop. What do you mean you’re in love with me?”
“Exactly what it says on the tin.”
“What the f*ck, the sequel.” Alex repeats with a whole lot of feeling.
“What have we been doing this whole time, then?!” He demands, both incredulous and kind of pissed off. He just went through all 7 stages of grief, convinced this Adonis of a man was never ever into him and that’s why they weren’t married with 3 children and a Brownstone at this stage in their lives, but here Henry stands claiming their feelings are mutual?
“Baby, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because! Our friendship was too important! I didn’t want to lose you.” Henry confesses pitifully, not meeting Alex’s eyes. If he were a dog, he’s certain his ears would be down and his tail tucked between his legs. Alex groans loudly.
“Henry, oh my god. We’ve been friends for 15 years, you wouldn’t lose me just because you like me!”
“Wait a minute, you never said anything either,” Henry accuses him, pressing a finger to his chest.
And. Well. True.
“I-I can’t explain that now, amnesia and all, but I’ve spent the whole day convincing myself that you just weren’t into me. You saw me as a dorky 13 year old and decided you were eternally out of my league,” he admits.
“Oh my god, I’m so into you, it’s pretty pathetic,” Henry argues, leaning closer into Alex’s space that if it wasn’t for their hands separating their bodies, he’s certain Henry would face plant into his chest.
He kind of wants that.
“What will it take for you to be my boyfriend? I’ll do anything.”
Henry, honest to god, giggles, then shakes his head and gets serious again.
“I’m really scared, Alex. You need to understand that I feel so out of my depth right now. You’ve never been like this before, so.. So desperate for me,”
“f*ck, baby, I have a hard time believing that. I want you so f*cking bad. Not just in a horny kind of way but also in a future wedding and babies for David to play with kind of way,” Alex says in a rush.
Henry drops their hands so he can fall into Alex’s chest, face buried against his shoulder. Alex wraps his arms tightly around Henry’s waist like a knee jerk reaction, pulling him in close enough to smother.
“What if your memories return tomorrow and you change your mind? I’m so scared, Alex. I don’t think I can survive having you just for one day. It won’t be enough, it’ll ruin me.”
Alex feels more than he hears the sharp way Henry breathes, as if on the verge of a panic attack.
Alex gets it. He was spiraling this way not even three minutes ago. He does his best to soothe Henry by pressing kisses to his head and rubbing his back gently, not too dissimilar to how he’d pet a really skittish cat.
“Okay, how about this. I will reel it all the way back. I won’t do anything that makes you think I’m putting moves on you. When my memories return, let’s revisit this. If we both still feel the same, let me romance you. Let me prove to you that this isn’t an amnesia fevered dream. I love you, Henry. I know that factually like I know the law.”
Henry pulls away just enough to meet Alex’s eyes and he nods once. His eyelashes clump together, evidence that he’s been crying, and Alex feels his heart squeeze for a new reason.
Protecting Henry is his number one priority. He’s beginning to think that’s the real reason he kept his feelings to himself before.
“Okay. Can I kiss you? Just in case you do change your mind, I’d really like to kiss you one last time.” Henry asks shyly, batting his eyelashes in a way that makes Alex’s stomach feel like lava.
Instead of answering, Alex gently cups Henry’s jaw and kisses him deeply, with every ounce of affection he feels for this man. He’s glad he keeps an arm around Henry’s waist to hold him up, as Henry melts like slime left out in the sun for too long. Alex is immediately addicted to it, a fierce possessiveness consuming him at being the one to make Henry melt with just one kiss.
It’s all eager teeth and tongues battling for dominance from there, Henry desperately licking into Alex’s mouth like a starved man. Alex can’t tell his moans apart from Henry’s, the hand once pressed to his lower back sliding down to grip his absolutely delectable waist. Something about how big his hands feel against Henry’s body has Alex on the brink of going feral.
“Alex, we need to stop,” Henry breathes out despite rolling his hips against Alex’s, the friction damn near causing him to blackout again.
Alex extricates himself from Henry with herculean force, taking a few steps back to be safe. Henry’s heaving chest and swollen lips are too enticing and Alex is just a boy.
“Sorry. Should.. Would you prefer I stay at June’s until—“
“Absolutely not. If you leave now, I’m afraid my brain will convince me this didn’t happen. Please stay. I trust you.”
Alex wishes he trusted himself. Was he always this horny for his roommate? Jesus Christ, Alex feels 15 and discovering p*rn for the first time again.
He can be cool. He’s an adult man. He just needs to sleep this off.
“How about you catch me up on what our normal nightly routine is?” He suggests gently, which seems to be the correct thing to say because Henry immediately lights up and smiles with his gums exposed for the first time all day today.
Alex’s heart feels too big and too warm in his chest, yet reeling it in for the sake of protecting this man and his enchanting smile turns out to be much easier than he thought. Gone is his lust, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. It must be the same feeling that pushed him to hold Henry as he grieved his father. The memory comes to him in fuzzy fragments, like being drunk. With it comes a sharp sting to his temple, a clear warning of a migraine starting from overworking his brain.
He takes a deep breath and settles in with Henry on the couch, cozy in his abuela’s quilt, and reminds himself that he’s not in any rush to get those memories back. Henry loves him back. He’s not going anywhere.
——
Much to Alex’s displeasure, getting his memories back doesn’t happen in a rom-com movie sort of way, where he wakes up the day after the big confession and remembers everything and they lived happily ever after.
That first week requires a lot of adjusting to living with someone who isn’t part of his biological nuclear family. He ends up in Henry’s way more often than not, likeaccidentally overfeeding David because he doesn’t use the feeding board on the fridge, not adding enough water to the kettle for Henry’s tea in the morning, and using Henry’s towel every morning because he prefers the color of it to his own. Henry is an absolute angel about it, smiling gently every time Alex makes a mistake—except for the kettle bit.
He does pout and send Alex the most hurt puppy dog look that has Alex on his hands and knees, begging for forgiveness. He never makes that mistake again. Alex pays attention to how Henry prepares his tea and takes it upon himself to greet him every morning with a steaming cup.
Alex keeps his word of not making any passes at Henry nor flirting with him, if he can help it. It feels a bit like he’ll burst a vein every time he has to bite back a salacious remark. He learns from some of Henry’s retelling of their friendship that Alex’s choice of banter is sexually charged, shameless innuendos. Apparently he’s fond of a good dick joke, who knew.
Turns out, he’s never been this straight forward with his comments, sticking to vaguely suggestive remarks that could be brushed off as a joke, which apparently Henry had every time out of self preservation. Alex had never outright said the words, “Henry, I want to ravish you so thoroughly that you feel me deep inside you for weeks after,” until his concussion-induced amnesia took his good manners and sensibilities away.
Apparently, his medication has worked wonders in helping his inside thoughts stay inside and well behaved. Alex quickly learns that concussions worsen ADHD symptoms but at least he can continue to take a lowered dose to avoid fully going off the rails. He feels less like an off-leash dog and more like a leash trained dog that will run for the hills the second his leash is released. He maybe starts feeding David extra treats every night because of it, finding him incredibly well mannered in comparison. If Henry asks though? No, he didn’t.
The funny thing about being in love with someone and not knowing the exact reasons why is that he gets to fall in love with Henry all over again. Alex laser focuses on Henry’s quirks: The way his hands will join the conversation when he’s very excited about something; how the one corner of his lips pinch slightly whenever he reads an email from his editor; the way he stretches himself out like a cat before he takes a midday nap on the couch. Alex studies him like one of his high profile cases, keeping a journal of all these things he’s noticed.
It sort of pisses him off the longer this goes on, actually.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have years of friendship to actively lose right now but Alex is ready to risk it all for one chance to convince Henry he is worthy of every happiness the world has to offer. Hell, he’d gather all the stars in the universe to drop them off at Henry’s feet and help him create his own galaxy, if that’s what it’dtake.
Even if Henry wasn’t interested before, Alex knows he is stubborn enough to try to convince him. He has never given up on something without giving it his best shot, even if it ended poorly. He now knows their friendship isn’t so frail that an unrequited crush would end it all. He thinks they would’ve easily overcome that, too.
So why had he kept this secret tucked so close to his chest?
——
The answer finds him a random Thursday afternoon, while he’s tearing apart his desk in an attempt to find a file with evidence he knows will be the nail in the coffin for the defense. He vividly remembers bringing it home, against Zahra’s explicit instructions to keep the work out of his peaceful home. He really couldn’t. A little girl’s future depended on this win.
All the way in the back of the bottom most drawer of his desk is a journal he doesn’t recognize. Not really. Looking at it invites ants to crawl all over his brain, a sensation Henry started joking was him having a brain blast like Jimmy Neutron.
He sits down on his desk with the journal in hand, brain successfully derailed from the task at hand. This feels more important.
He immediately recognizes his hand writing from when he was younger, right around middle school or early high school. The first few pages are stream of consciousness more than anything—complaints of June being better than him at LoZ: Twilight Princesses, expressions of disappointment over his parents missing another band concert—just mundane thoughts.
About halfway through the entries, Henry becomes a recurring character. He’s the main character, really, page after page filled with stories Henry shared with him or things they did together. Then they become strictly about how pretty Henry looked in the backyard while reading his book, bathed in the sunlight; about how handsome Henry looked for his strings concert; and, more embarrassingly, about how he maybe has a teeny tiny itty bitty kinda catastrophic crush on his best friend. One too many pages log his Great Bisexual Awakening and how he doesn’t know what to do about it.
One of the last few pages details a conversation he had with Arthur Fox, apparently having decided to ask the man for advice on his son. Arthur had been so encouraging, telling Alex to go for it because his shy Henry never would. He insisted that Henry was mad for him, too, but struggled to prioritize his needs or take what he wants.
“He’s a very polite and well mannered boy, you see. He won’t ever take that which doesn’t belong to him,” Arthur had said sagely.
“Okay, but I am his. Henry’s Alex. There’s never going to be anyone else.” Alex now remembers saying with probably too much conviction for a 14 year-old.
Arthur had laughed and ruffled Alex’s hair fondly, saying, “You need to tell him that, not me.”
Alex doesn’t wonder for too long why he didn’t take Arthur’s advice, as the man had basically given Alex his blessing to pursue Henry at full force. The next entry is dated several weeks later and recounts the shocking news of Arthur’s diagnosis, detailing all the ways it had affected the Fox family and especially Henry.
Between two entries he finds an envelope, still crisp as if it had never been opened. The letter inside is from Arthur Fox, addressed to Alex.
Dear Alex,
I have asked my darling Catherine to pass this onto you when the time comes. I would have preferred to give it to you directly but time is not on my side.
I want to thank you for the happiness you have invited into Henry’s life. Our Henry has always been rather sensitive, pure of heart and very feeling. Others don’t get him quite as well as you and I do.
I am hereby officially declaring you as Henry’s protector. I am leaving him in your hands to treasure and to love fiercely. Please don’t let his light dim when I’m gone. He deserves to live, love, and laugh to his fullest extent, but I can already see a flickering like a loose light bulb in his eyes.
Alex, my boy, please take care of our Henry.
No matter what, do not leave his side.
Even if he pushes, even if he shuts you out, wield your stubbornness like a weapon and fight back. Show him he’s worth that, and more.
Promise me, Alex.
Sincerely,
Arthur Fox.
The entry behind that letter reads,
Henry laughed for the first time in forever today. He thanked me for not leaving him like everyone else and made me pinky promise that I would always be his best friend. I agreed obviously but I can’t ever tell him how i feel. I’m really sad about that, it feels so dumb and selfish but i really really wanted to be his boyfriend. I would be an awesome boyfriend but he’ll always need a best friend and i can be that forever. It’s ok, he will definitely find a really good boyfriend that will like him so much (not more than me but still a lot) and make him feel goopy inside like he makes me feel. I will make sure that guy is really cool. Cooler than me. Henry’s perfect boyfriend:
- Super cool
- Really nice and caring
- Pays attention to henry
- Likes to read. Bonus if he likes jane austen
- Doesnt have adhd
- Is very polite just like henry
- He wont be loud or too chatty because henry likes quiet spaces like the library and his boyfriend should definitely go to the library with him
- Will make henry smile every single day
Henry deserves the best for sure. june said that friends can give each other love too. She said it was called “platonic.” She said i can still hug him and hold his hand if he allows it so ive been keeping him company at night. I wonder if he would be creeped out if he knew i liked him. IM NOT GONNA DO ANYTHING!!!! it just hurts seeing him so sad. He sleeps better when i stay over. Friends can cuddle! June and nora cuddle all the time.
I am gonna buy him ice cream tomorrow with the money dad sent me. I think that will make henry happy.
Mission: be the very bestest friend henry could ever have for the rest of his life, starts now :)
To future alex: dont mess this up. Henry is the best most wonderful most kindest friend. he’s so perfect ugh ugh ugh. I gotta get it together. Conceal dont feel or whatever elsa said. We got this. Platonic love platonic love platonic platonic platonic. If we feel our resolve cracking, just read the letter again.
In the margin is a scratched out heart, he can just make out the “ACD + HF” written inside. The words “BEST FRIENDS ONLY” is written underneath it with an arrow pointing at the heart.
The last few entries in the journal contain multiple dates and very short sentences underneath each one.
July 10th
Went to the arcade with henry today and he won me a fox plush on a claw machine. I love him.September 28th
Henry started learning how to knit so he gave me a very lumpy scarf. I love him.January 12th
I made the lacrosse team!!! and henry got me flowers to congratulate me. I love him so much, f*ckFebruary 14th
Henry has a valentine’s date with matt. I love him and it hurts so much, but i hope he will be happy. please god make him happyMarch 27th
Henry tried to bake a cake for my birthday and almost caught the kitchen on fire, so we went out for ice cream instead. I still love himMay 4th
had a Star Wars movie marathon with Henry today. he was so f*cking cute talking about why Return of the Jedi is the best movie (wrong). I think I’m going to tell him. i can’t keep it in anymore. i can be his best friend and boyfriend, cant i?June 7th
jk. Henry’s had a few bad weeks. He forgot the death anniversary of his dad and he spiraled badly. I made a promise to arthur. I made a promise to henry, too. I almost forgot, i have a sworn duty to fulfill. Best friends dont fall in love with each other. Henry didnt so why am i.. i’m gonna get over it. Starting todayJune 10th
I love himJune 15th
I love himJune 16th
This is so f*cking hard. I cant be his best friend and love him, it’s really really hard to pretend i dont want to kiss him every time he smiles at me. Im so down bad oh my god. I need to move on alreadyAugust 1st
I went on a date today. jenna is really nice. I can do this.November 8th
broke up with jenna. she was upset that i canceled our date because henry was having a dark day. she doesn’t understand that i made a promise. I think i’m gonna stay single. the truth is, i still love henry. i will always love henry and it’s not fair to others. I hurt jenna because i couldn’t choose her. itll always be henry. ive been happy, right? i dont need henry to love me back, just need him to stay in my life. i CAN be his best friend and love him. platonic love. platonic platonic platonic. this will be my last entry in this journal. Henry Fox, i love you so f*cking much but you will never know. not with words. I will protect our friendship, i promise.good bye journal!
Eventually, Henry finds him slumped over his desk, head buried in his arms as he sobs with feeling because he remembers everything. All the reasons he loved Henry before and why he never said anything. He feels really pissed off again, he thinks this concussion has knocked him into a perpetual state of anger. The whole time Alex was agonizing over his feelings for Henry, they were reciprocated.
He weeps for his teenage self who fought so hard to reduce the size of his heart because he’d secretly convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of Henry and used their friendship as an excuse to avoid certain rejection. He wasn’t brave enough to put himself out there and risk finding out the person who knew him the most intimately didn’t love him back. Henry has always been the only person that made him feel right and like he truly belonged. Alex feels sorry for himself, to be honest. He had nothing to worry about, apparently. Why had he denied himself happiness for so long?
He was a f*cking coward. Maybe he really wasn’t worthy of Henry if he wasn’t willing to fight for him.
Alex is crying with relief too, though. He feels weightless, several burdens lifted off his shoulders all at once. He has tangible proof that his feelings aren’t superfluous and concussion-induced. He can prove to Henry that he has always been all in, even when he was too scared to say anything.
“Alex? What’s happened, dear?” Henry crouches next to Alex, a gentle hand on his knee as he tries to peer up at Alex’s face.
Alex can’t even form words over his hiccups, just shaking his head back and forth. It takes him a while but when he finally meets Henry’s concerned eyes, he throws himself into the unassuming man’s arms. They both topple to the ground unceremoniously, yet Henry holds him tightly like he doesn’t need to know what’s going through Alex’s mind to comfort him.
An unknown amount of time goes by before Alex calms down. The fingers in his scalp are the first sensation he feels, positive that’s what grounded him. Henry is softly humming a Bowie song into his ear, allowing Alex to curl up against him. He must be very hyperfocused on Alex because he notices the second his breathing evens out.
“Are you okay? Is it your head?” He asks in an almost whisper, continuing to stroke Alex’s hair.
“I remember.” Alex states plainly as if that is all the explanation he needs to give. Unfortunately, Henry graduated with a phD in Anxiety with a thesis on Overthinking So Hard You Make Yourself Ill. He can’t help the way his body tenses and his fingers still in Alex’s hair. He starts to pull them away but doesn’t get too far, Alex’s own hand moving quickly to keep the hand in place.
“I remember and I’m so sorry,” Alex continues, failing to realize those words don’t offer much comfort until Henry whimpers like the words physically hurt him.
It’s then that Alex finally faces the biggest mistake he has made, for at least the last 10 years, straight in the face. While he self imposed his worth on Henry, convinced he wasn’t enough for this Heaven-sent gift to humankind, he had failed to make Henry feel he was worthy of Alex. Through all of his affection and care, he’d held Henry at arms length to spare his heart, shutting out any opportunity for Henry to make a move himself. He had explicitly told Alex that earlier—there was never any indication that Alex was tripping over himself to love Henry as anything other than a friend.
He kind of has to pat himself on the back for keeping that lid on so tightly. He sort of wanted to strangle himself, too, though. There was never a time Henry implied Alex wasn’t a valid candidate for the role of romantic partner. Never. Even the Valentine’s date with Matt, Alex now recalls Henry calling that night to say he’d only said yes because he was asked in the cafeteria in front of an audience. Even throughout college, Henry never had a serious partner. He always entertained men but never made it to a second date with any of them. Henry would shrug and say they weren’t “what he was looking for'' whenever Alex asked.
Alex had kept himself willfully blind. Henry was waiting for him to get with the program. The whole time.
“I’m sorry for being such a coward. I promised you I would be your best friend forever and self-imposed a clause stating I couldn’t also be your romantic partner. I was worried I’d fail at being one or the other if I chose both. You know me, I need to commit 100% or not at all. I chose best friend without ever giving you the opportunity to change how you wanted me.”
It sounds incredibly silly, now that he’s said it out loud. That line of thinking was acceptable when he was a teenager just trying to fit in with his peers and excel in his studies. Henry had been his strongest pillar, a reprieve from everyone’s expectations. He was the only person who didn’t need Alex to be anything or anyone special, he just wanted him to be happy and cared for. Of course Alex had not been inclined to change their dynamic then. There was too much to lose.
He would like to think he has come a long way since then. He still has expectations he struggles with, but they’re mostly self-imposed now. He may never grow out of the need to be the best at everything he does, but he allows himself the grace to fail and keep trying. He’s also an adult now, he has the brain capacity and energy to juggle multiple things at once. His discipline is much better, able to keep up with all of his law cases, go to the gym once a day, meet up with June and Nora for social hour, and still make time for Henry and this little life they’ve built.
It’s annoying that it took mild amnesia to knock some sense into him. Alex is perfectly capable of being Henry’s best friend and romantic partner now. He doesn’t want to waste any more time.
“If I haven’t completely lost you yet, please give me a chance to love the hell out of you. Properly. At full force.” He tries to keep the desperation out of his voice. He thinks he fails, if the look Henry gives him is any indication, like Alex is a wounded animal needing rehabilitation. He feels like it, to be honest.
“Oh, darling. You never lost me. I was always yours, whether you wanted to cash me in or not.” Henry’s wobbly smile and the way he holds Alex’s face like he simply can’t believe his luck makes Alex’s stomach feel like goo, again.
“You’re also incredibly daft,”
“Um, rude!”
“You never had to be 100% best friend nor 100% boyfriend. I would have been happy with anything. Even now. Actually, especially now. We’re adults with responsibilities and lives outside of each other. Some days may be 50/50, some days may be 20/80, or any combination. It doesn’t matter, really, because I know us. I know we will give each other exactly what the other needs. We’ll always meet wherever our middle is that day.” Henry tucks a stray curl behind Alex’s ear and softly kisses his forehead. “I want to be 100% together, with you.”
Alex nods his head along like a bloody bobble head, tears brimming in his eyes out of relief. It’s not an explicit yes but it’s enough to let the hope in his chest bloom into a full garden.
“Wait, let me show you something.” He reluctantly frees Henry to grab the journal—more importantly,the letter. Henry needs to know the extent of his father’s love, going as far as to assign him a guardian angel of sorts. Arthur Fox would always look out for his most precious child.
In no time, their roles are swapped and it’s Alex offering a bawling Henry comfort in his arms. He’s almost more inconsolable than Alex was, feeling so seen and so loved by his father who clearly saw how much these two boys meant to each other and even encouraged it.
The first thing he says when he calms down is, “I’m going to fight your dumb brain,” which gets a big laugh out of Alex because ditto.
“Get in line, sweetheart. I’m first.”
“How about we fight each other’s brains? I was not courageous enough to fight for your heart, either. I was too afraid of losing my best friend back then. I was so afraid of being alone, you must understand. Having you by my side was enough.”
Alex and Henry, two lonely teens seeking acceptance and finding it in each other.
“It’s not enough for me anymore, baby. I want you so much, it’s driving me crazy. I want your kisses in the morning, I want your cuddles at night, I want you under me making an absolute mess, I want you in front of me at the altar with matching rings.”
Henry laughs at that despite the color painting his cheeks and the cute way he bashfully ducks his head.
“Dramatic. I didn’t know you were such a poet, love.”
“I’m so f*cking serious, Henry. Let’s speedrun boyfriends. I need you to take my last name, immediately, and that’s not the concussion talking anymore.” Alex says vehemently, bringing Henry’s face close to plant a kiss to the apples of his cheeks.
Maybe he’s coming on a bit too strong. He’s never known how to slow down, only how to redirect his energy into something else. He takes a deep breath and says a bit more sincerely, “I want to introduce you as my boyfriend to my parents during Christmas. I want to take you on dates to the library. I want to bring you flowers just because. I really, really want you to be mine, Hen. I always have. I don’t think I can fit all of this love back inside my chest even if I wanted to. And if I’m a really sh*tty boyfriend to you then I promise to move on. I just want one chance.”
He takes another deep breath and meets Henry’s eyes straight on. “Please,” he whispers pleadingly. He is not above begging at this point. He’s tortured himself—and them—long enough.
Being a truly pathetic and desperate loverboy pays off when Henry giggles and says, “You must know it was never up to me, my love. I was always going to say yes,” with such adoring eyes. His lips pressed against Alex’s seals the deal.
They kiss softly, light caressing of hips and cheeks and backs, whispered expressions of love and dedication exchanged between kisses. Alex allows himself this affectionate assault for minutes, finally feeling like he deserves to be on the receiving end of such kindness and care. He pours himselfninto the kiss, too, his competitive nature rearing its head because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t spend the rest of his waking life ensuring Henry knows how loved and treasured he is. How f*cking precious to Alex he is today, yesterday, and forever more.
Henry trailing a hand down Alex’s back to firmly grip the back of his thigh to pull it over his hip, effectively pressing their bodies flush against each other, is all it takes for the kiss to turn messy and hungry. They kiss with teeth and tongues, like they’re trying to devour each other.
Alex’s hands find the back of Henry’s head to unkindly pull at his hair, earning him a moan like a Hymn written by the angels themselves. Henry’s hands rest on the fullest part of his ass to use as leverage as he grinds their hips together in the most sinful way. Alex distantly thinks he’d happily get on his knees to worship Henry’s thighs, he would lead the mass every Sunday and invent new holy days of obligation just to revere this man like a good Catholic (sorry, abuela).
He’s pushed onto his back with Henry straddling his hips, all without breaking their kiss. Henry’s sheer strength almost shocks an org*sm out of him right there and then. He didn’t realize how desperately he needed to be manhandled by this otherwise soft boy until this very moment.
“Holy f*ck, baby,” he moans out, hands moving to grip Henry’s hips instead and holding him firmly in place, just over his co*ck. “Is this too fast? Should we stop? I don’t even know if you’re my boyfriend yet, my brain is offline.”
Henry, the absolute motherf*cker, shifts his hips to perfectly press Alex’s erection to the dip of his ass. It doesn’t take much to imagine what it would feel like without all the layers of fabric between them.
“Mm, I seem to recall you asking for my hand in marriage at least three times now, darling.” Henry says playfully but he sounds so breathless and his lips are an enticing shade of red. It all goes straight to Alex’s head. The one in his pants, mostly.
“Baby, I am so serious. I need to hear you say it.” Alex never imagined he’d be his own co*ckblock, but here we are. To be fair to himself, he also never thought he’d find himself in this position with Henry. He stands by his previous sentiment of being unable to sleep with his best friend. This can’t be casual for him, even knowing the feelings are mutual. He needs the exclusivity to enjoy the experience to its fullest.
He’s a bit possessive about Henry, sue him. He knows the law.
Henry must see it in his eyes because he smiles adoringly at Alex again, pressing soft kisses all over his face and ending on his lips. “Yes, Alex. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.” Then he leans over to whisper into Alex’s ear, “And.. Yes to speedrunning. Need you so badly,” emphasizing it with another wiggle of his hips.
Alex sees stars, hips bucking up like his body is on autopilot and no longer communicating with his brain. “Wait, wait, wait, baby. I want to do this right. I want to romance you.” He would never be able to forgive himself if after it was all said and done Henry thought this was only physical for him. He wants all the vulnerable to domestic parts as much as he wants the physical parts.
Henry sits back up, hands resting on Alex’s pecs as he stares down at him with a slight pout. “You can romance me later. Tomorrow, the day after, and every single day for as long as we live. I might die if I don’t get you in me now. I’ll beg,” there’s a hint of a whine in his voice and more purposeful grinding of his hips. “Plus, you promised.”
“Promised what?”
“To put a baby in me. Do it, coward.” Henry goads, punctuating it with another expert roll of his hips.
Well, when he puts it like that, Alex is not the type to break his promises. He thinks he’s learnt his lesson on holding back, as well. He won’t let that bite his ass again (that right is reserved for Henry, now).
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Alex sits up and bends his legs to firmly plant his feet on the ground. He wraps one arm tightly around Henry’s middle while the other moves behind him to use as leverage. “Hang on tightly,” is the only warning he gives before he pushes himself up into a standing position with all 6” of Henry koala clinging to his neck and waist. Henry breathes out a broken, “Oh my god,” and Alex secretly thanks his gym membership.
Once he’s standing fully upright and stable, his hands move down to hold Henry securely by the back of his thighs, sneakily giving his ass a firm squeeze. Henry groans and tightens his legs around Alex’s waist, connecting their lips back in a hungry kiss like he needs it more than oxygen. Alex manages to carry him all the way to his bedroom with minor injury, breaking away from the kiss only to open the door.
Henry whines and chases his lips, earning him a light slap to his left ass cheek. The way his body jolts and his co*ck leaks in his pants is embarrassing, increasingly so when his wide eyes take in Alex’s delighted face and smug smirk. Henry immediately knows he’s in trouble.
“Huh,” Alex says with another, slightly firmer slap to Henry’s ass, pulling a moan out of him. “You like being punished for being a bad boy, sweetheart? Like being put in your place and manhandled?” He punctuates it with another smack, to his right cheek this time. Henry can only pathetically moan and babble, grinding his co*ck against Alex’s firm abdomen.
He’s put out of his misery when Alex finally pushes them past the door and gently deposits Henry onto the bed, completely opposite to all the rough touching and handling so far. It sparks something warm in Henry’s chest, like a campfire being kindled. Alex settles himself on the bed next to him, half on his stomach so he can hover over Henry to kiss him gently, passionately, pouring years of love and affection into the kiss.
He holds Henry by the back of his head, while Henry’s own hands bury themselves in the mess of curls and tug mercilessly. He knows how much Alex loves having his hair played with and pulled on from nights of Alex’s head settling on his lap as they watched movies in the living room. The tugging bit came as a fun revelation when an unruly mat had Alex moaning with flushed cheeks. It was a sight.
Henry trails a hand down Alex’s back to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up to indicate his intentions. Thankfully Alex pulls away so they can both sit up to rid themselves of their shirts and their pants quickly. Living together as long as they have means the sight of each other’s almost naked bodies is quite common, but the way Alex’s eyes roam all over Henry’s chest, stomach, thighs, a hunger alight in his eyes, is certainly new. He never had the chance to appreciate the sight before, too afraid of getting caught or, worse, popping a boner in front of his best friend.
He shuffles on the bed so he can get his hands on Henry again, feeling that carnal magnetic pull stronger than ever. His fingers trail lightly all along Henry’s shoulders, down his pecs, and to that tiny waist Alex has grown so f*cking fond of holding because of how big they make his hands feel. It exacerbates his need to protect Henry as if he is a dainty little thing, despite the fact that he is quite large and incredibly fit for someone who isn’t a gym rat. Henry never quite lost the muscles gained from years of horse riding and polo, something Alex is most thankful for as his mouth genuinely waters at the sight of Henry’s thighs in all their naked glory.
He wants to be crushed by them, badly.
Alex leans in to trail kisses down Henry’s neck and shoulders, nipping along the skin as he goes but never too hard to mark. Not yet. Henry gasps softly and as if that startled him into motion, his hands are quickly on Alex to caress and explore just as gently and as meticulously as Alex’s had.
“You’re so f*cking beautiful, Hen.. I want to ruin you. Mark you up. I want you to remember who you belong to when you see yourself in a mirror,” he whispers against the soft, lightly freckled skin. His words are emphasized by digging his teeth into Henry’s collarbone, sucking on the skin to leave a bruise behind. He pulls away before he gets too ahead of himself, even if the gasps and whines Henry rewards him with are encouraging.
He meets Henry’s eyes and is fascinated by the dark, heated gaze that looks back at him and is so excited to discover that the pretty blush on his cheeks travels down to almost his navel. He is f*cking beautiful.
“Yes, Alex, all yours. I’m yours. You can mark me, make it obvious. Want the world to know you love me like I love you,” Henry replies and pulls Alex’s head back to his neck, tipping his head back. Alex is just a boy, really, and a damned good one, if you were to ask him. He growls before he gets to work, decorating Henry’s neck, shoulders, chest with love bites he will carry around for at least three days. He leaves a trail like a choker around the center of his throat, cooing at the sight when he pulls away.
“You were always beautiful, but looking like you’re mine? f*ck, you’re irresistible, baby. You belong in a museum. Pinned against a wall for me to admire.. Now ain’t that an idea,” he muses, purposely exaggerating his Southern twang, something he’s noticed causes Henry to turn weak at the knees for some reason. He thinks he gets it, if it’s similar to the way he feels when Henry speaks perfect French.
He gently shoves Henry onto his back and crawls over him on all fours to work his way down the rest of Henry’s body. Alex revels in the way his back arches when he takes an inviting pink nipple into his mouth, working his tongue over it and sucking it gently. His hands travel down Henry’s defined abdomen just to feel the way his muscles tense at every touch. Henry’s responsive body is so addicting, encouraging Alex to do more, to find his limit.
The kisses are trailed lower until they reach his stomach, just below his belly button. He’s never said it out loud, out of fear it would make Henry self conscious, but Alex is completely and utterly obsessed with how soft and full some of Henry’s features have become—most notably his stomach, his thighs, and his ass. He would like to take responsibility for it, using cooking as his primary love language as it always seemed to be the most subtle. One doesn’t have to be in love with their best friend to cook them homemade meals at least 5 days a week.
He’a fascinated by the combination of firm muscles and curves. Henry’s like a Renaissance painting, a human specimen so perfect that Michaelangelo and Raphael would be tripping over themselves to capture in painting or sculpture.
Alex looks up at him through his lashes as he peppers more kisses against the fuller parts of his stomach, then with a cheeky grins says, “You’ll look even more beautiful carrying my babies.”
Henry bites down on his lip so hard it almost breaks skin, somehow holding back his whines but his body displays his desires so clearly. Alex moves even lower still to mouth at him over his boxers, focusing on the wet patch right where the head of his co*ck lays.
“All of this for me? Thank you, baby.”
Henry spreads his legs invitingly, urging Alex closer with a tug of his curls. The breathy sounds he makes are almost enough for Alex. Almost.
“Tell me what you want, baby. I won’t do anything without explicit consent, you know that.” He works Henry’s boxes off to leave him fully exposed. Alex has to tightly clench his jaw, fingers twitching and gripping tightly at Henry’s hips. The dark hair trailing just below his belly button to the base of his co*ck nearly makes him cum in his own underwear like a teenage boy. He’s so surprised to see the hair isn’t blonde but a darker shade, making the flush on his thighs contrast even more. He’s a work of f*cking art.
The whimper and the way Henry’s legs clamp shut, his hands leaving Alex’s hair to shyly cover himself instead, snap Alex out of his trance. He can’t help but growl, taking Henry’s hands apart to expose him again. He moves them to gently hold his thighs to pull them apart again, but makes eye contact with Henry first.
“Baby, do you want to stop? Say the word and we can get our in our comfiest pjs and pop a movie on instead, I don’t care. Whatever you want, I will give it to you.” Alex assures him, pressing just one soft kiss to each of his thighs before sitting up. He keeps his hands on Henry’s thighs to rub them gently, soothingly.
“No! I mean, I do want this. I’m just. Nervous. You’ve never seen me like this,” Henry admits, hands resting on his stomach as if he needs to cover that, too. “I’m worried I’m not.. As appealing, like this. I’ve put on some weight and—and I wasn’t expecting to be naked in front of you so I didn’t trim or anything, it’s not… Pretty.” He says the word like a slur, all the while avoiding eye contact with Alex. He doesn’t stop Henry from covering himself with the bedsheets but he doesn’t move his hands off his thighs, either. He gives them a firm squeeze to get Henry’s attention.
“Sweetheart, I am so obsessed with you, I should probably be jailed for your own safety.” Henry smiles at that a bit but still looks apprehensive.
“Do you want to be pretty? Because to me, you are so f*cking stunning. You’re so sexy and so handsome and so gorgeous.”
Henry squirms under the blanket, clutching it too tightly for comfort. “I want to be pretty for you.”
“You’re so f*cking pretty, my pretty baby boy.” Alex says with a lot of conviction, trailing his hands further up Henry’s thighs and slipping them just under to gently pry his legs open again. He doesn’t force, just adds enough pressure for Henry to catch the hint.
Henry seems to believe him because he pushes the blanket back off and spreads his legs wider to make room for Alex between them. He makes grabby hands at Alex, who happily settles between his thighs and leans up to hug him tightly with his head resting on Henry’s chest. He stays like that until he can hear Henry’s heartbeat even back out.
He only pulls away when he feels a tug on his hair. Henry’s apprehension is replaced by desire once again, bringing Alex up for a deep kiss. He takes back his confidence by licking into Alex’s mouth, and Alex is happy to give up dominance as he focuses on touching every inch of Henry’s skin. He finally wraps a hand around Henry’s still leaking co*ck, giving it a few light strokes. He swallows every single moan Henry lets out but doesn’t speed up any more.
If Henry c*ms, he is determined to make sure it’s in his mouth. He says as much out loud, causing Henry to roughly push his head down. Alex laughs but goes along happily, getting comfortable on his stomach so his face is leveled with Henry’s crotch. He purposely nuzzles his nose to the patch of hair at the base, breathing in his scent and feeling high from it. How Henry thinks he isn’t mouthwatering sexy like this is so beyond Alex.
Alex presses kisses all over Henry’s pelvis as he takes his co*ck back into his hand to bring it to his lips. He presses lingering, wet kisses all along the shaft and teases the head with his tongue. He’s immediately obsessed with the tangy taste that overtakes his buds and knows he wants that down his throat, immediately.
“Such a pretty co*ck and it’s all mine,” he says reverently before taking it all in his mouth and down his throat in one swift motion. He barely gives Henry a second to adjust, expertly bobbing his head and hallowing his cheeks. The truth is, Alex has very little experience with pleasuring men, but he’s been on the receiving end enough to know what he does and doesn’t like himself. Like the way he presses his tongue flat along the underside of Henry’s length, or the way he will go all the way down until his nose is buried in his pelvis and he can swallow the head down until his need for oxygen causes him to pull off just to the tip.
He assumes he’s doing an all right job if Henry’s moaning and the way his hips twitch occasionally is anything to go by. Alex purposely keeps his hands on Henry’s thighs so that when he inevitably holds Alex’s head in place and begins f*cking into his mouth, he doesn’t restrict Henry’s movements. He encourages it by moaning and holding him in place when he’s as deep as he can go, just for a few seconds, enough to make himself dizzy.
“You take my co*ck so well, love—f*ck—like your mouth was made for me,” Henry says between sharp intakes of breaths and grunts. It’s like that slight nervousness never existed, the way he handles Alex and uses him with no shame. He’s memorized by the sight of his co*ck disappearing in and out of Alex’s sinfully plush and red lips, the way tear tracks stain his cheeks and cling to his lashes. He looks absolutely wrecked and beautiful.
Alex pulls off just to voice his agreement, “Just for you baby, your personal co*ckhole,” head fuzzy and hardly registering his own words. Henry is leaking more incessantly now, he must be close. That’s all Alex cares about.
“‘Lex..Love, I’m so close. Need you in me, please!”
Alex pulls off with an obscene pop only to throw one of Henry’s legs over his shoulder so he can lift his hips more and gain better access to his hole, inviting and terribly empty.
“Get the lube,” is all he says before he occupies his mouth by rewarding Henry’s hole with teasing, kitten-like licks. He aims with just the tip on his tongue, distracted by the way Henry’s muscle clenches and flutters.
“f*ck, you want it so bad, don’t you? So f*cking pretty down here, too.” His tongue becomes a bit more aggressive, licking broader stripes and just teasing the tip of his tongue past the tight ring of muscles. He pulls away just enough to spit at his hole, lubricating it enough to press one finger in along with his tongue.
Alex is reluctant to pull his mouth away, Henry’s sobbing and mewling inflating his ego. He’s the only person who gets to see him like this, now, to make such a mess out of him. He’s determined to thoroughly claim this man, keep him from changing his mind. Henry will crave Alex so desperately once he’s done with him that no one will ever compare, he will always come home to Alex to get what he needs.
He must pull away to retrieve the bottle Henry somehow fished out of his bedside table and haphazardly dropped on the bed. Alex pulls his finger out, too, and has to press gentle kisses to Henry’s jaw and nuzzle his cheek with his nose to soothe him as he whines at the loss.
“Alex, Alex, ‘Lex, please, too empty. Need you, please,” Henry cries out, tears making his blue eyes look deep and endless.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna fill you up nice and full, baby. Be patient.”
“No! Now! Please, I’ve been so good. Please, please,” Henry continues to cry, wiggling his hips for any attention. All it does is earn him a slap to his left ass cheek, Alex having lifted his hips higher to get a better angle. This causes Henry to cry out more and say, “Sorry, sorry, don’t punish me. I want to be good for you,”
“Then be patient. I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” To prove his point, he settles a pillow under Henry’s lower back to keep his angle, so he can shimmy off his boxers to show Henry what he’s working with. The way Henry’s eyes widen and Adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow almost has Alex behaving recklessly, but he can’t. He needs to be patient, too.
“So big..” Henry says in awe, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go like he’s presenting himself to Alex for the taking. It rips an animalistic growl straight from Alex’s chest, quickly coating three fingers with the lube and warming it up, pressing that first finger back in all the way. Henry whines again but the blissful expression on his face tells Alex this is exactly what he wants. He adds a second finger without much preamble, thrusting them more gently and slowly until the muscle relaxes around the added intrusions.
“You’re so f*cking tight, baby, will you be able to take me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, please ‘Lex. I can take it. Need more fingers.” His hips buck up to meet Alex’s fingers, meanwhile his hands move to his chest to play with his own nipples just for something to do. The sight is straight out of Alex’s filthiest wet dreams. Because he can’t keep his mouth off Henry long enough, he nudges one of his hands away with his nose to replace it with his mouth. Alex licks and sucks at the pink nub to distract from the third finger he adds to help stretch him out better. It only mildly works because Henry still yelps at the added stretch, yet he moves his own free hand down to guide Alex’s hand to move faster.
Alex only removes his fingers when a pool of cum decorates Henry’s stomach, his hips are twitching like he can’t help f*cking himself on Alex’s long fingers, and his thigh tremble with the exertion of keeping them up. He leans down to kiss Henry’s inner thighs and leave a few hickeys there, something private just for them to see.
He holds up the condom packet and shakes it in a silent question. He knows he’s clean, he hasn’t slept with anyone since they graduated uni. Henry has gone out on dates since but he cannot assume how they ended. Plus, he might just not be into the clean up afterwards. There are many reasons to use the barrier.
Henry considers it properly, lest he gets spanked again for acting too quickly. Carrying Alex’s babies has been a joke but he has to admit that the thought of being pumped full with Alex’s cum is incredibly obscene and appealing, which he says as much as he shakes his head
“I’m clean, love. I’ve never.. not with anyone else. Want your cum in me, only yours. I’m yours.”
That has him leaking all over himself enough to not need any lube, but for Henry’s comfort he gives himself a few strokes to thoroughly coat his full length. Then he’s shuffling closer to Henry on his knees, lining up the head of his co*ck to Henry’s entrance and slowly pushing into the hilt. It’s so tight and deliciously warm, it takes a lot of effort not to bust right there and then.
Alex slides his arms under both of Henry’s thighs so they rest on the crook of his arms and he can effectively lift his hips higher. His large hands grip Henry’s thighs tightly, fingers sinking deep enough to mark the pale skin.
“f*ck, baby, you feel so... A perfect fit, made just for me.” Alex groans as he begins to shallowly thrust, giving Henry the chance to adjust to the stretch. He could tell it was needed by the rise and fall of Henry’s chest and the way he gasps and moans at every twitch of his hips.
They lock eyes as Alex keeps up a gentle pace, really taking each other in now that the lust isn’t all consuming but rather a comfortable, warm thrumming in their veins. Henry’s fringe sticks to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his chest shine in the white glow of his bedroom lights. Some of the love bites around his collarbones and neck are already turning purple while the rest remain red, as if taunting Alex into biting harder. There’s something like wonder and awe sparkling in Henry’s eyes, too, like he can’t be sure this is real.
“I f*cking love you, Henry.” Alex finds himself embarrassingly choked up, like all of the adrenaline has worn down and left raw affection and adoration for the man beneath him in its wake. He absolutely refuses to cry while balls deep in Henry, that would be so uncool. It’s a near thing though. He just feels so much for this wonderful, perfect man who has endured so much and still made room to carry some of Alex’s burdens, too. He distantly thinks they would have always found their way here, to this exact moment. Maybe at 30, maybe at 40, doesn’t matter. It was always going to be Alex & Henry.
“I love you too, Alex… and I would love even more for you to rail me into this mattress.” Henry replies, dragging Alex down by his neck to kiss him breathless. He pulls away just to whisper, “I don’t want to think about the time that’s past, I just want to feel you now. Please, my love.” He settles back down on the bed with his arms over his head to hold onto the headboard. His biceps flex artfully, and the sight of him splayed out and presenting himself for Alex’s taking is.. God, Alex might not last long.
It’s all the invitation he needs to set a bruising, brutal pace to the snap of his hips. He pulls back so that just his head breaches Henry and immediately sinks back to the hilt. It shocks a howl out of Henry, finally feeling the full length and girth of Alex’s co*ck. He babbles about how much bigger it feels than it looks, feeling almost overstimulated in a mere few thrusts.
Henry feels overstuffed and full to the brim like never before. His brain feels staticy, like a TV on the wrong channel. He moans a litany of curses and praises, repeated chants of Alex’s name, so unable to keep his mouth closed from the pleasure that he begins to drool on himself.
Alex eats it up. He’s hypnotized by the sight of Henry swallowing him up, combined with the way he clenches around him every time he is fully seated. He can tell it’s not intentional, Henry’s glassy eyes and the way he throws his head back in pleasure giving the impression that he’s fully succumbed to his pleasure. His body seems to be reacting on its own, welcoming Alex in and begging to be kept full.
“So greedy,” he growls out while pulling Henry’s hips closer as he f*cks deep into him. Alex moves his hands to hold Henry by his hips instead, lifting him up just a bit higher to sync the movement of their hips better. Henry attempts to move his hips and take what he needs, but his whole body feels like his bones have been replaced by jelly. Alex’s hands are the only thing keeping him up and moving. In this new angle, Alex is able to hit his prostate repeatedly, causing him to scream and grip the headboard tight enough to break his own fingers.
“Alexalexalex, more! Fu—ah! Right there, so good for me, so big, oh god—”
This angle causes the cum on Henry’s stomach, from his own straining and leaking co*ck, to trail down his abs in sticky, translucent trails that decorate his torso more beautifully than even the most expensive jewelry ever could. It gives Alex ideas about shooting his own load onto Henry’s abs and chest, taking a picture of it for his viewing pleasure. It also draws his eye to the slight bulge in Henry’s stomach that only appears when he’s as deep as he can go.
“Holy f*ck… You want more when you’re already this full, baby?” He takes one of Henry’s hands off the headboard and presses it firmly over the bulge, angling his hips so that he can hit the same spot every time, right under Henry’s palm.
Henry’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, not understanding what he’s feeling. He’s sure his brain has melted onto the pillow case, leaving room only for the mind numbing pleasure of Alex’s co*ck brutalizing his prostate. He has to sit up slightly to really see what’s happening. Even then, he’s not sure what he’s seeing but the tingles that shoot up his spine and bring fresh tears to his waterline makes him think he doesn’t really care, he wants more more more, it feels so f*cking good.
“Look at how deep I am, baby. You’re not satisfied yet?”
Realization dawns on Henry—that bulge, that’s Alex’s co*ck expertly rearranging his guts. There’s nothing he can do to keep himself from spilling all over his own chest at that, the org*sm hitting him so hard that his vision goes completely white for a second. His throat feels like sandpaper from the force of his scream and subsequent moans, he can’t even hear himself over the ringing in his ears. His back arches with it, both hands scrambling to hold onto something, anything, for support. They grab Alex’s forearms, nails digging harshly into the straining muscles there.
Alex hisses at the sting of it but keeps going, captivated by the filthy sight of Henry covered in his own cum. He dips a finger into it and brings it to his mouth to savor it, mourning that he didn’t make Henry cum down his throat earlier. Next time, he thinks.
“My pretty baby boy, so messy just from my co*ck, I didn’t even touch you. So desperate.”
Henry turns absolutely boneless once his org*sm has run its full course, arms dropping to his side and practically starfishing, if it wasn’t for his legs still being held up by Alex’s arms. He tries to catch his breath between moans and grunts, his whole body trembling with oversensitivity as Alex’s thrusts continue strong.
It takes a second for Alex to register Henry has become deadweight. He slows down and eventually comes to a stop while buried deep, the head of his co*ck brutally pressed against Henry’s prostate.
“f*ck, baby, did I break you?” He asks with soft fingers—of his clean hand, thank you—caressing Henry’s cheek and wiping away at some stray tears. Henry just whines pitifully and holds his arms out like a small child asking to be picked up. Alex immediately takes him into his arms, leaning as far down as he can to hug him tightly and shower his face with kisses.
“You’re so good, Henry, such a good baby boy for me. So perfect,” he whispers against Henry’s temple. It takes a while for his breathing to even out but when it does, Alex begins to pull out.
Henry yelps indignantly and wraps his legs tightly around Alex’s waist to hold him in place, accidentally bringing him closer and causing more friction up against that sensitive gland. He just bites back a sob, body trembling again.
“Don’t go.” He begs.
“Oh, my sweet baby. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”
“You were pulling out without finishing,” he accuses, sounding entirely too affronted for someone who just had a mind blowing org*sm. If he’s still acting this bratty, it’s clear Alex didn’t do enough.
“Hen, you’re shaking like a leaf. I don’t want to hurt you.” Alex explains and does his best to soothe Henry with more kisses to his cheek, temple, and forehead. He knows it’s working because Henry practically turns to goo in his arms, loosening his hold on Alex but never letting go.
“Want you to cum, please. I want to be so full of you even when you pull out. Want your babies, ‘Lex, please please please,” he begs in what has to be his brattiest voice yet. Alex didn’t even know he could sound like that, that pitch to his voice only heard earlier when he was mewling and whining on Alex’s co*ck.
co*ckdrunk Henry is so f*cking cute, Alex thought it was impossible to be more endeared by him than he already was, but here he is. Falling more in love with this incredibly multi-faceted man. Alex may never stop being in awe of him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you pregnant,” he whispers into Henry’s ear in a sultry voice, purposely making it deeper. “Maybe I’ll keep you pregnant year round, always pumped full of my cum, your belly round and beautiful. f*ck, your little tit* will look so cute full of milk, baby. So f*cking pretty.”
He gets momentarily distracted by kissing down Henry’s chest again, lapping at his sensitive nipples with his tongue and kissing his pecs. The sounds Henry makes in response to his ministrations are straight up p*rnographic and Alex feels that tell-tale tightening in his abdomen that warns him of his impending org*sm.
Alex takes Henry’s legs in his arms again, but this time he pushes up and forward, almost bending Henry in half with his knees pressed to his chest,and resumes pounding into his ass with renewed energy. He knows he won’t last much longer, he’s been on the edge since he first saw Henry in his full naked glory. Alex has always been a very giving lover, he might just prefer it more than receiving if he’s honest, so with Henry dutifully brought to org*sm, there is nothing holding Alex back.
He finally lets go, releasing deep in Henry like he’s making up for at least 12 years they could have been doing this. He rides out his org*sm with Henry’s name on his lips over and over again, the man in question mustering up some strength to meet Alex’s thrusts and clench tightly around him like he doesn’t want even a single drop to end up outside of him.
When Alex is finally spent, he collapses straight onto Henry’s chest, not concerned about the drying cum for even a second, just desperate to be in his boyfriend’s (REAL!) arms. He barely manages to pull out to get into a more comfortable position, almost regretting it when Henry whines at the loss. He maneuvers their bodies so that they are facing each other on their sides, pulling Henry’s thigh over his hip so he can more easily insert two fingers back into him, keeping him full and stuffed. Henry sighs happily and hugs Alex’s head to his chest protectively.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The next time Alex blinks his eyes open, his room is cast in shades of orange from the setting sun filtering through his window. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, can’t even account for how long it’s been, but he’s very disinclined to move when he’s so content in Henry’s arms, listening to his calm heartbeat and his fingers in his curls. Alex could drop dead right now and feel like he lived a fulfilling enough life. This is true bliss.
As he takes stock of the rest of his body, he finally acknowledges the semi-dry fluids on his face and chest. Right. In his enthusiastic love-making, he tired himself out too much to properly clean up his lover. He thinks this definitely deducts several brownie points. f*ck.
He lifts his head up to meet Henry’s eyes and feels an explosion of butterflies reawaken in his guts at the adoring smile that greets him.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Glad you could join me on this fine evening.” Henry greets playfully, delight twinkling in his eyes.
“Hm. You have a bit too much energy for someone who came without being touched,” bites back, without any real malice. He realizes his fingers are still nestled in Henry’s ass and does his best to ignore the interested twitch his little Alex gives at that. Down, boy. Too soon. He pulls them out slowly so he can gently pat Henry’s ass. “I have a way of dealing with bratty boys.” He warns in a low voice.
Henry turns incredibly red at that, moaning softly and attempting to clamp his legs shut at the sudden loss. “I distinctly remember you calling me your good baby boy, can’t take it back now.”
“I said a lot of things… A lot of things.” Now that they’re no longer in the throes of passion, Alex feels incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed by some of the things he said. He buries his face back in Henry’s chest and groans. “I’m sorry about that.”
“What for, love?”
“The baby stuff. The.. The pregnancy and the tit* comment? Jesus Christ, I swear I’m not a freak. I got too caught up. I’m sorry if it was weird or uncomfortable.”
Oh, god, day one of being Henry’s boyfriend and he’s already well on his way to spooking him. When he said “speed run,” he didn’t mean towards a breakup! Jesus. Alex needs to get a grip. Maybe the concussion is still lingering a bit.
Henry tugs his curls so that Alex will meet his eyes again. Alex is an adult, he can face rejection head on, even if it’s from the love of his silly little life. It’s totally fine. He will look upon this night with only the fondest memories. Once was better than never, he’ll convince himself.
“Darling, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Slow down that brain of yours a moment.”
To his relief, Henry doesn’t look disgusted. He looks fond and in love. With Alex. Is it weird to cry after sex? It is, isn’t it. He won’t cry.
“First of all, kinks are totally valid to have and I am happy to explore them with you. We can set boundaries and figure out what works for us. Secondly, I.. erm. Well. I quite liked that. A lot, actually.” Henry admits shyly, all flushed and embarrassed but his eyes never waver. God, Alex loves this brave morherf*cker. “Who am I kidding? I loved it so much, Alex. Being claimed as yours like that really does it for me. So, more of that in the future, please and thank you.”
“Stop. Stop being so perfect or I will quit law to pursue a Biology degree so I can discover a way to actually get you pregnant. f*ck, I love you.”
Henry just laughs brightly, all of the embarrassment tossed out the window. They get to have this now, a new level of vulnerability and intimacy not available in the Best Friend Package. Henry kisses him sweetly on the lips and whispers that he loves him, too. It’s easily Alex’s favorite thing to hear, now.
“I’m so excited. I get to learn new things about you. I get to cherish a new version of Henry Fox.” Alex says when they pull away, smiling goofily at him. Now that his love is uncontained and free to exist, he thinks it will be impossible to reign it back in. He likes it.
Alex remembers something suddenly. He sits up on his elbows to look down at Henry curiously. Henry just raises an eyebrow and hums questioningly.
“So.. Earlier, you said.. You’ve never had sex without a condom before?”
Henry blushes furiously, convinced his body temperature may never be normal again near Alex. “It’s true, I.. It felt too much like giving ownership to my partner. I didn’t want to…Belong to them. Any of them.”
“But I—“
“Only you, Alex. Even when I thought you didn’t love me back and would never be mine, I still only wanted to belong to you. I thought I could convince you of that marry-each-other-if-still-single-at-thirty bit. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“Hell no, baby, that’s so f*cking hot. f*ck. You’re mine, all mine. I never learned how to share and I’m not starting now.” Alex states firmly, drawing Henry back into a bone-crushing hug.
“So… It was good, then?” He still asks nervously. Look, Henry has been gay his whole life. He has a lot of experience with men. Alex is less seasoned because his obsession with his best friend made it easier to stick to dating girls so he wouldn’t think of Henry while in the act. With men, he only got as far as messy handjobs in bar bathrooms. It wasn’t with purpose.
“Alex, I am literally covered in my own cum. It was incredible. Would you like a gold star?” He says it sarcastically but honestly? Yeah, Alex kinda does want a gold star. He thrives on being good.
Instead of saying that, he holds his hand up and stares expectantly at Henry until his high-five is reciprocated. He finally grins widely, all smug and confident.
“Nice! You can expect a repeated performance at your earliest convenience.”
“You are so ridiculous. How do I put up with you?”
“You looooove me. You wanna kiss me soooo bad.” Alex practically giggles, feeling so giddy because he gets to say that now. Confidently and with his whole chest, Henry Fox loves him. That’s his boyfriend!
“God knows why, but I really do. I love you so much. I’m never letting you out of my sight, Claremont-Diaz. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Lock it and throw away the key, Hen. I love you. You’re my happily ever after. I’ll propose when the time is right, but know it’s coming.”
“Who says you’ll be the one proposing?”
Alex rolls his entire body over Henry, clamping a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, you are not allowed to steal my thunder.”
Henry just laughs again and brings Alex back down for a kiss.. or a hundred. They lay there, kissing lazily for what could be hours or days, just happy to be with each other until Henry complains about how gross he feels.
Alex fishes his phone out from his pant’s pocket to snap a quick photo of Henry—“It’s going in my hidden folder, I promise! Just. f*ck, you’re ethereal like this.”—then bridal carries him to their shared bathroom. He’s never been more grateful for their bathtub, even if it cost $200 extra in rent. He sits Henry down on the toilet and gently cleans his chest and thighs with what he’s sure is his face towel but who cares right now, while the bath fills up.
They enjoy a nice hot bath together, exchanging kisses and joking around some more in the way they always have. It’s so relieving to Alex that this dynamic does not appear to be at any risk. He loves their banter and their ribbing, something so woven into the tapestry of their friendship. He’s just glad he can kiss Henry to shut him up when he doesn’t have a good comeback, now.
They eventually make it back out to the living room in their pjs, Alex forcing Henry into one of his old NYU hoodies because he’s allowed to want to see his boyfriend in his clothes, alright, and order takeout. David happily joins them on the couch when they settle in to watch the latest season of GBBO. This time they don’t need any excuses for cuddling up against each other, Alex keeping an arm wrapped around Henry’s waist and eating with his free hand.
Correction: This is bliss.
Later, he takes two more pictures of Henry. In the first, they’re kissing through their smiles. In the second, Alex is resting his chin on Henry’s shoulder, cheeks pressed together. They’re both smiling, Alex with a peace sign up. The necklace of hickeys around Henry’s throat are hard to ignore. They both go up on his instagram with the caption, “Have y’all met my boyfriend?”
cjcd_ 5m
Thank GOD! @nora_holleran you owe me $50
nora_holleran 3m
This isn’t fair, we didn’t consider a concussion
nora_holleran 3m
I didn’t know you were a cannibal. Prayers for Hen 🙏
auntiepezza 1m
I expect grandchildren by a fortnight lads
theagcd 12s
working on it 🫡
autiepezza 10s
ALSBWOABWO ATTA BOY! Keep up the good work ✨
bea.fox 30s
Am I too old to be the flower girl at the wedding?
theagcd 15s
henry says yes. i say we flip a coin
philip_pip_fox 26s
Don’t be daft. Artie will do it.
m.fitzfox 13s
Quickly, create your registry before Pip orders this awful toaster!
Maybe they aught to find the knob who kicked that soccer ball hard enough to nearly kill Alex. It brought him to his senses, after all.
