Work Text:
Henry can practically feel the tension leaving his shoulders as he steps into the brownstone for the first time in eight days. He lets out a sigh, leaning against the heavy front door. The first floor of their home looks untouched, the sitting room dark except for the moonlight coming through the large windows; the kitchen cold and empty. But upon closer inspection, Henry notices the telltale signs of Alex being here, like the dip in his favorite couch cushion and the law textbook on the coffee table. The stack of unwashed mugs in the sink. The coffee grounds that litter on the counter. Henry's heart sinks.
He passes by David on his way up to the study on the second floor, curled up and sleeping in his doggy bed near the fireplace, serene and at peace. At least someone in this house is.
The bedroom is a mess when Henry walks in to put down his bags. The sheets are twisted and tangled, shoved down in a clump at the foot of the bed, and there's no doubt that one of the pillows has a coffee stain on it. A few notebooks and open pens are littered on top of the nightstand next to Alex's side of the bed. Henry's heart aches just taking it all in. It's not Alex's fault. He knows how quickly Alex can fall into these moods without so much as a warning. It doesn't make it hurt any less, however.
But their bedroom is missing one crucial thing, which is Alex. Henry peers into the connected bathroom; no sign of him there, either. He walks out of their bedroom and down the hall, wringing his hands together. Fuck. The mood is hitting him as well, much faster than it usually does. A different kind of mood. A frenzied, all-consuming feeling. He needs to have Alex in his arms, and soon.
The door to the study is cracked open when Henry passes by, and he knocks softly on the door before slipping in. Alex is sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his NYU sweatshirt (the second one that he had to buy, since Henry liked wearing the first one all too much), hunched over a law textbook, his fists gripping his hair where his elbows rest on his bent knees. His laptop is sitting next to him, open but the screen is dark, whatever assignment he pulled up thoroughly forgotten by now. There's even more textbooks and binders scattered along the desk. He looks so small like this, so stripped away, and Henry hates to see Alex in this position, hates that he wasn't there to pull him out of the spiral that seems to hit always at the most random of times. He's so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even register the knock on the door. Henry tries again. "Darling?"
Alex starts at the sound of his voice, whipping his head up so fast that Henry's surprised he doesn't get whiplash. He blinks in surprise. "Hen," he breathes out, sounding slightly dumbfounded. He rubs his eyes. "Fuck, you're — you're early, I thought you weren't getting picked up until midnight —" He stops, his eyes falling on the clock on the wall, which reads half-past twelve. "Oh." He shuts his eyes again. "Fuck."
Henry bends down, pushes his textbooks and laptop and pens out of the way so he can sit directly in front of Alex. "What happened?" he asks, taking Alex's hands in his and gently moving them away from his death grip on his own hair. He ignores the way his insides flare up just from the slightest touch alone.
"The usual," Alex mutters. His voice sounds rough. Henry wonders when the last time he drank water was, or the last time he spoke to another person. "Lost myself in the books, I guess. But forget about that, how was London?"
"Same old," Henry says back. His words already have a bite to them. But this isn't about him right now, this is about Alex, and Henry needs to make sure that he's okay before he can even think of the things he wants to do to him. "It's not important. Love, how long have you been on this binge?"
He doesn't miss the way Alex avoids his gaze. "Three days," he says quietly. "Maybe four. I don't remember."
Henry lets out a shaky breath. "And what is it this time?"
"Fucking midterms," Alex rushes out, looking angry and stressed just from the thought alone. "I have to write a fucking paper on hate crimes and how laws connect with them by the third, and my professor sent out all the information earlier this week, and I only meant to get an outline started, but I keep coming back to the fucking thing and I can't do anything else until I finish it."
"The third?" Henry repeats, and Alex nods. He brushes his thumb along Alex's jaw, and his heart breaks from the way Alex falls right into his touch. "That's still two weeks away. You have plenty of time."
"I know," Alex says heatedly, and of course he knows, but Henry has been through this before, and he knows how it can help Alex to hear it from someone else. He sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. "I know," he says again, more quietly this time. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean for this to happen again. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Henry says, pulling Alex into his arms. He climbs easily into his lap, his knees slotting against his hips, and it feels so good to have Alex in his arms again, so goddamn good that Henry can barely handle it. "I should have called more often, or made more of an effort to check on you. I should have done better." He presses a kiss to the side of his head. "It's not your fault."
"It's not your fault, either," Alex says against his shoulder.
They stay like that for a while, just holding each other on the floor in the middle of their study. It doesn't take long for Henry to sink into the warmth of Alex's body heat. Alex's hands are running gently up and down his back, and his head fits snugly in the crook of his neck, and he smells good even though it's clear he hasn't had the energy to shower in at least two or three days. Or maybe that's just an effect of the heat that has slowly been growing inside of him ever since Alex climbed into his arms. Whatever the case, it relaxes him. Being with Alex seems to do that to him.
"Hey," Alex says after a moment, pulling back so Henry can see his face. He wraps an arm around his neck, bringing his other hand up to cup his cheek. "How was London? For real."
Henry exhales shakily. Now it's his turn to be comforted, and fuck, he needs that more than anything right now. "I thought things would change," he breathes out. "But of course not. I'm still talked over in every meeting, still diminished by Gran, and that I expected, but Philip does just the same. I know he's trying, and I know he wants to be better, but it's in his nature to take the lead in everything. And it's silly to think he could change immediately — but Christ, you weren't there, and Bea wasn't there, and Mum left halfway through my visit to help her out with the charity concerts, and it was so much worse than usual."
"Baby," Alex whispers, so soft, so heartbroken. "I'm so sorry. I love you, okay? I love you, I love you, and you're home now, and I'll make sure I can come with next time, I promise, and you're not gonna face anything like that alone again. Okay?"
Henry nods, leaning forward so their foreheads touch. "And I love you," he says back.
Henry is done speaking, for now, at least; they'll most definitely have a more serious talk about this tomorrow morning, but right now, all that needs to be said has been said. Clearly Alex thinks so as well, because he nudges his nose against his, hot breath hitting his lips, and mutters, "Hen, do — do you need —"
"Do you?" Henry interrupts, because he does need it, he needs it so badly that he can feel it aching in his bones, but he won't let himself cave into those desires unless Alex wants it just as much.
"Yes," Alex says immediately. One of his hands curls tightly into his hair. "Yeah, fuck, I do."
This happens sometimes. When Henry returns home after attending to royal duties, after constantly being brushed aside, after days of being talked over at meetings. When Alex gets too wrapped up in his assignments, the promise of just one more line always fading with each turn of the page, pouring all his energy into a paper that isn't due for another two weeks. It starts to take a toll on the both of them, and well. Henry needs to be in control. Alex just needs to get fucked.
It's happened before a multitude of times, even when one is there for the other. But there's always some days when Henry can't do much except take away Alex's coffee mugs and replace them with glasses of water, force him to tear his eyes away from the pages long enough to feed him a protein bar or two, and then Alex will crawl back to him once the spell is broken, looking shaken and lustful, and Henry will carry him back to their bedroom and fuck him until his brain finally shuts off. And then there's times where Alex can come with Henry to Kensington, where he can reel Henry back in after particularly difficult days, where he gives up his power and lets Henry tie his wrists to the headboard and fuck his mouth to his heart's content. But it's not often that they're both in these moods, where Alex needs to be put back into place, where Henry needs to grip onto something he can take charge of. The few times where it has happened, it's left the both of them shivering and starving for nothing but each other's embrace, and they usually don't get out of bed until well past noon the next day. It's so much more intense when they both need it. So intense that it nearly feels lethal.
"Why don't you head back to our room and freshen up," Henry says quietly. "You know you'll better after brushing your teeth and getting out of these grimey clothes. I'll tidy up here."
Alex sighs. "No, I can take care of all this, you should —"
"Alex," Henry says quickly, his voice much lower than he expected it to be. His hands squeeze tightly at Alex's hips, making him still in his lap. He shuts his eyes. "Please."
It's not a request.
Alex understands. He even shivers slightly. Mutters a soft, "Of course," and Henry feels the soft press of his lips against his cheek before he moves out of his lap and heads for the bedroom.
Henry sighs, opening his eyes. The room already feels colder with Alex gone. He feels colder.
He gathers the textbook and laptop in his arms and hauls himself to his feet. Placing them carefully next to an open binder, he catches sight of a few of Alex's notes strewn across the loose-leaf paper. His handwriting is scrawled and uneven, like it always is when he's in a hurry, or when he's feeling particularly stressed about something, or both. Henry has a strong suspicion that this specific incident falls under both.
He doesn't want to disturb any system Alex might have, as chaotic as it looks, so he leaves the whirlwind of notes as it is, promising himself that they'll figure it out tomorrow, when Alex has a better grip on his own mind, when Henry doesn't feel as if he'll fall to pieces if he can't get something, anything, under his control. He walks down the hall to their bedroom, loosening his tie and popping open the top button of his shirt as he does so. That helps a bit. At least he doesn't feel like he's being suffocated anymore.
The door to the bathroom is shut when he walks in, the sound of the sink running muffled behind the heavy wood. Henry walks around to Alex's side of the bed and picks up the stray of notebooks scattered along the nightstand. Places them on the dresser in a neat little pile. He shakes out the bedsheets, smoothing them down on the mattress. He's in the middle of changing the stained pillowcase when the water stops and Alex walks out of the bedroom, having shed his sweatshirt, looking as disordered as before but slightly more put together. He stays standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Henry to say something, because he knows what Henry needs in situations like this, and when he's in this mood as well, he needs it just as much as Henry does.
Henry finishes changing the pillowcase and tosses it back against the headboard. He sits down on the foot of the bed. "Come here."
Alex crosses over to the bed in a few short strides and fits into his lap again, his arms coming to wrap around his neck. There's a dark look in his eyes, Henry notices, and his pupils look a little blown already. Henry's hands grip at his waist. He slides his nose against his jaw, breathing him in. Fuck. He can already feel himself slowly growing hard, just from Alex's scent alone.
"Color?" Henry murmurs in his ear before biting down on the soft skin behind it.
"Fuck," Alex says in a choked voice, his nails already digging into his shoulders. "Green. Of course it's green."
Henry doesn't answer; just continues to place slow, nipping kisses along his jaw and the hollow of his throat. He scrapes his teeth against a vein, making Alex shiver. He can feel the tension start to drain from his shoulders with each kiss, each bite, each gasp from Alex's lips. God. He needs this. Alex needs this. He needs Alex.
"I'm going to tie you up," Henry says lowly, placing one last slow kiss on his Adam's apple. "I'm going to bind your wrists together with my tie, and then I'm going to take my time tasting every bit of you, and if you're good, I'll turn you over and fuck you exactly how you want. You will not come until I tell you to. Do you understand, darling?"
"Yes," Alex whimpers. His breath hitches when Henry nuzzles the underside of his jaw, a spot that's always been sensitive for him. "Henry, can I —"
"You have a request already?" Alex nods. Henry sucks gently against his skin. "Very well, then. What do you want me to do?"
"Can you — can you kiss me first?" Alex whispers. "It's been eight days, baby, I — ah — I've missed you, I just want to taste you."
Christ. Henry loves this man.
"Of course," Henry mutters, tilting his head up and bringing their lips together. The kiss is slow but deep, filthy but affectionate. Just a bit like them. It's the most perfect kiss Henry has ever gotten.
"I'm ready now," Alex tells him when they break apart, shimmying out of his lap and laying down on the bed. He automatically raises his hands to rest above his head. "Give it all to me, Hen. Don't hold back."
And how can Henry say no to that, when Alex is all laid out in front of him, patient and willing, staring at him with a fire in his eyes that only appears when gets in these moods? As fast as he can, Henry undos the loosened knot of his tie and moves to straddle Alex. He wraps the silky material around his wrists, the familiarity of the knot making the look in Alex's eyes grow even darker, looping it around the headboard bar before making sure it's secure. He slides his hands down Alex's wrists, his forearms, his biceps, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend completely at his mercy. He can feel his cock twitch in his pants just from the sound of Alex's breath growing ragged.
He leans down, captures Alex's lips in a kiss again. It's rougher this time, more tongue, more teeth, and Alex falls right into it. He moans into the kiss, immediately trying to bring his hands down to tangle them in Henry's hair like he always does, and his moan grows even louder when he remembers he can't. Henry kisses him and kisses him, takes his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. It's a miracle that he managed to control himself up until this point. But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is that he finally has Alex underneath him, he can finally do everything that he's been wanting to do ever since his plane landed in London.
Eight days apart, especially eight bad days apart, isn't pretty on either of them. But this makes up for it a little bit.
Henry moves his mouth down Alex's chin, along his jaw, pausing to suck at a spot on his neck. It's high enough that Alex won't be able to cover it up, but he would be lying if he said he doesn't get off on that just a little bit, and he knows Alex does as well, so he licks over the fresh mark when he's done and moves to suck at a different spot, slightly lower this time but still very much visible above a collar. Alex's groans are high and breathy. He loves this. Loves this just as much as Henry does, if not more. It's a close competition.
Henry doesn't stop. He bites on his collarbone, kisses his solar plexus, sucks down on a nipple. Alex fucking keens at that, bucking his hips up to try and get any sort of friction. Henry can feel the bulge in his boxer shorts, almost too tempting, almost, before he slides a hand down Alex's body and presses his hips to the mattress. Alex whines.
"Not yet," Henry says simply, flicking his thumb over the growing bud. Alex shivers.
He moves his mouth to Alex's left nipple, scraping his teeth over the brown skin while his thumb pinches and rubs at the other, already wet with cooling spit. He's pretty sure an "Oh, motherfucker," escapes from Alex's lips. It certainly wouldn't be the first time Alex has called him that in bed. He chuckles quietly and sucks harder on Alex's skin.
"Fuck, Henry," Alex pants. "Fuck, fuck."
Henry resumes his path downwards, flicking Alex's nipples one more time for good measure and kissing a trail down his stomach. He runs his hands along Alex's sides, digging his nails into his skin, making Alex gasp, settling low on his hips but still not slipping his fingers under the waistband of Alex's boxers. He kisses his navel, dips his tongue inside. It makes Alex squirm. He does it again.
He grabs a hold of Alex's underwear and pulls them down an inch. The start of his dark pubic hair emerges, and Henry kisses the sensitive skin next to it, breathes in the musky scent, and his eyes practically roll back into his head from how hard that makes him. He can't help it — he takes Alex's thighs in his hands and spreads his legs open, drops his head next to the large bulge, and there's already a wet spot on his crotch, oh fuck, there's already a wet spot, and he kisses his clothed clock, moaning greedily, wanting more but not willing to give Alex what he really wants. Not yet.
Still, Alex jerks and whines, bucks his hips up closer to Henry's awaiting mouth, and Henry is far too into it to push him back down. He kisses and licks at Alex's crotch, pushes his boxers down. The front gets caught on his bulge, Henry only managing to tug them down in the back, revealing his ass, and he cups both cheeks immediately, loving the feel of the spillage between his fingers, getting even harder from the way Alex hisses when he gives one cheek a sharp squeeze. He's faintly aware of his own untouched dick, throbbing almost painfully in his pants. It's so much, the feel of thin fabric separating Alex's hard cock from his mouth, the fullness of his ass. It's so much and not enough all at the same time, and Henry is so consumed by Alex's scent and his moans and his quivering muscles, and deliriously, Henry wonders if any of this will ever be enough for him.
Alex is practically writhing on the mattress by now, muttering a string of pleas such as, "Touch me, baby, please, your hands, your mouth, anything, I just need," and Henry draws back.
He has always appreciated how vocal Alex is as a lover. Even now, even when he gets so lost in the pleasure like this, it's not any different. In fact, it's even more guttural — while Alex is much more of a praiser during their usual rounds, leaning down to whisper sweet nothings in Henry's ear, showering him in compliments while roaming his hands down his body, worshiping him, there's less of that when he's in these moods. Less praising, more begging. But he's just as loud, even more so, pleading for Henry to fuck him, moans and groans coming deep from his chest, lying there and just taking it because he's so fucked out, because it's the only thing he needs. Henry loves it.
"You want me to touch you?" Henry murmurs. He slowly, slowly drags down Alex's boxers the rest of the way and tosses them aside, his cock springing free. Alex whines in response. "But I am touching you, darling. Or is my mouth not enough?"
Alex shakes his head, tugging at the restraints. "Need mo— oh, oh my God," he gasps, voice breaking into a moan when Henry wraps his long fingers around his dick. His feet are planted flat on the mattress now, knees bent, trying desperately to fuck into Henry's hand. But Henry keeps his grip loose, his fingers barely brushing along the shaft, and he can tell that Alex has just about had it. He moves his other hand to Alex's hip, digging his nails into the skin, effectively stilling his movements.
"If you want me put my mouth on you properly," he says lowly, leaning in so their lips brush, "then you'll have to beg."
Alex shivers; honest-to-God shivers run through his body. He nods. "Kiss me," he breathes out. "Please."
Henry kisses him. Alex immediately drops open his mouth, pushing his tongue against Henry's. Henry can feel the desperation behind it, can feel how much Alex wants this — no, needs this. He cups Alex's jaw, angling his head so the kiss deepens. Alex moans every time their lips meet.
"I need you to touch me," Alex mutters a moment later, kissing a wet trail up Henry's jawline until his lips press against his ear. Henry shudders when he bites on his earlobe. "I need you to fuck me. Put me in my place, Hen. I can take it."
And fuck, if Henry doesn't want it just as bad. But he stays where he's put, settled in between Alex's spread legs, his hands splayed on either side of Alex's shoulders, holding himself up. He drags his nose along Alex's cheek. Focuses on his breathing. Wants to make Alex work for it even more.
Barely ten seconds pass before Alex makes a small noise of discouragement in the back of his throat. "Please, baby," he whispers. "I don't care what you do to me as long as I have your cock inside me. I want you to wreck me." He whimpers when Henry bites down on his jaw. "Please, Jesus, Henry."
He can't handle it when Alex says his name like that, and he knows that Alex knows that, so with a growl, he shoves Alex up the bed and throws his legs over his shoulders and, unceremoniously, sinks his mouth over his throbbing cock.
Alex throws his head back and moans loudly. Henry wastes no time, bobbing his head up and down, tonguing at the underside of his dick, pulling back just so Alex's cockhead sits in his mouth, sucking at the tip while his hand works over the rest of his length, using his own saliva as lube. The taste of precome floods his mouth, a bitter taste, but so, so good, and Henry groans, greedily lapping at the slit. His other hand comes up to cup Alex's balls, pulling on the skin in just the way he knows will make Alex fall apart.
"God, fuck," Alex keeps panting, arching into Henry's touch. Henry sinks back down on his length, not stopping until his lips meet his fist, curled tightly around the base of Alex's cock. He runs his tongue along a vein, making Alex groan, and swallows him down.
Alex immediately snaps his hips into Henry's awaiting mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat. Henry groans. He holds down Alex's hips with one hand as his other works faster at his balls. He relishes in Alex's noises, the familiar taste of his cock, and soon enough, he's bobbing his head up and down rhythmically and Alex is a gasping mess and he slurs, "Gonna come, baby, gonna fucking come," and Henry keeps sucking his cock, because he told Alex not to come until he says so. Because he's the one in control here. Because Alex will do exactly as he says.
"Fuck," Alex breathes out. "Fuck, fuck." He keeps moving his hips, making Henry choke ever so slightly, and Henry falls right into it. He can feel Alex's muscles quivering underneath his hands, can feel his thrusts start to become sloppy. "Henry, I can't, I'm gonna come."
He drags his tongue along Alex's shaft, runs his hands over the taut muscles of his abdomen, and a pleading whimper escapes from Alex's lips, and —
Henry pulls off just as Alex is about to lose it, and Alex hisses from the loss of contact, chest heaving. His cock slaps heavily against his thigh. He jerks, his body overworked and overwhelmed.
Henry runs his hands soothingly down his sides, presses a sticky kiss to his knee. "How are you doing?" he asks.
"So green," Alex rasps out. His eyes are closed, tears caught in those long, gorgeous eyelashes of his, panting heavily. He cracks one eye open, meeting Henry's gaze, and his pupil is blown so wide that Henry can barely see the brown iris. "Just... just gimme a sec. Otherwise I'm just gonna come the moment you touch me again."
"I thought that was what you wanted?" Henry says lowly, pressing another kiss to his knee, more lingering.
"It is. God."
"If you're so worried about coming before I tell you to," Henry starts, sliding his hands along the insides of Alex's thighs, spreading his legs even wider, "then perhaps I won't touch you anymore. Does that sound fair?"
Alex whimpers. "No."
"Hmm. It's a pity you're not the one to decide what is and isn't fair, isn't it, darling?"
Henry slips his hands underneath Alex's knees and pushes his legs to his chest. Alex moves willingly, moaning quietly when Henry ducks his head down and kisses the underside of his cock. Henry moves his mouth down to his balls, licking at the sensitive skin, sucking one into his mouth. Alex's moans are high and breathy, like they always are when Henry edges him. They've done it enough times where Henry knows exactly what will make Alex turn to putty in his hands; the right way to crook his fingers that nearly sends him over the edge, the place behind his ear that makes him give up all control when Henry bites on it. And Henry plans to take full advantage of all of it.
He licks once more at the tip of Alex's cock, tasting the precome that's dripping down his length, kisses a trail down his perineum. Alex squirms; he's sensitive there. Henry presses his thumb there and rubs a small circle into the skin. A choked sound emerges from Alex's lips. Henry continues to work his thumb while he travels lower, lips brushing against the curve of his ass, until his mouth is inches away from Alex's puckered hole. He presses his lips tenderly to the sensitive skin. He's going to be tight; Alex hasn't been on the receiving end of sex for the last two weeks, at least. Henry doesn't think too much about it. He knows Alex likes it just as much, if not more, when he's not as loose as he should be. He says he can feel all of Henry inside of him. Usually, when the confession slips out after Henry fucks him, it makes Henry spread his legs apart and take him again.
He presses his tongue flat against Alex's hole and gives a broad lick, and Alex lets out the sluttiest moan of the night. Henry does it again, and then again, relentlessly opening Alex up with only his tongue. He can feel the muscles start to give way, and he groans, sucking on the velvety skin of his ass. Alex is crying out a mix of curses and pleads, fucking music to Henry's ears, but he's not going to let him have his way, not yet. He stiffens his tongue and pushes into him.
"Holy fuck," Alex slurs, trying as best as he can to push back against Henry's mouth in his cramped position. Henry draws back, much to Alex's dismay, if his disgruntled whines are anything to go by.
"Keep still," Henry commands. He leans back in, traces his tongue around Alex's entrance. Alex's hips jerk forward again, whether accidental or not, Henry doesn't care. He digs his nails into his soft skin. "I said keep still."
"Sorry," Alex gasps. Henry pushes back in, feeling Alex open up around him with each thrust of his tongue, practically falling apart underneath him. Henry fucks him with his tongue, and Alex can't stop moaning, and Henry feels so goddamn proud at what he can reduce Alex to. He groans and buries his face further in between Alex's cheeks. He tastes so good.
Henry pulls back after a moment, barely giving Alex any time to whine before he's braced himself over his body again, pushing two fingers against his plump bottom lip. "Suck."
Alex opens his mouth willingly, his eyes half-lidded, and Henry immediately drags his fingers down Alex's tongue. Alex whimpers, a fucking delicious sound, and sucks hard on Henry's long fingers. He bucks his hips up again, but Henry is too far gone to care. He moves his fingers back and forth, stirring through the spit, reveling in the way Alex just lies there and takes it, fucking loves it, gets off on Henry's fingers in his mouth almost as much as he get off on Henry's cock in his ass.
Henry pulls his fingers away and goes right back to eating out Alex's ass, pushing a spit-soaked finger next to his tongue inside of him. He works his finger inside, stretching him simultaneously with a finger and talented tongue, and soon enough he's working a second finger next to the first. He pushes briefly against Alex's prostate, and Alex groans thickly into the air.
"You're beautiful like this," Henry murmurs after he's pulled back, pushing his fingers roughly in and out of Alex's hole, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of Alex's thighs. "Bloody gorgeous."
Alex doesn't answer, save for his breathy moans. Henry doesn't expect him to. Alex usually shuts down in these heated moments, something much needed after days or sometimes weeks of constantly running his brain. It's one of the few times in his life where words fail him. And while Henry usually loves his smart mouth — sometimes a little too much, commonly resulting in Henry on his knees and sucking Alex's cock as soon as he can — he loves this as well. The First Son of the United States, the Golden Boy, the charmer, the conversationalist: barely able to form a coherent sentence as he gets fucked into oblivion. It makes Henry hot all over. Or perhaps that's simply the result of his clothing still on him, a stark contrast to Alex's naked, sweaty skin.
Which reminds him. Why the hell isn't he naked yet?
He begins to unbutton his dress shirt with one hand, the other still fucking into Alex, up to three fingers now, which turns out to be a much more difficult task than expected. He growls to himself, which makes Alex blink his eyes open, head falling back when he realizes what Henry is doing. "Get them off," he mutters, his voice low and raspy. Henry's stomach flips.
He hastily withdraws his fingers and makes a quick scene of undoing the buttons on his shirt, practically ripping it and his undershirt off of his body. He doesn't miss the way Alex licks his lips at the sight of Henry's bare torso. He reaches for his belt. Unbuckles it and tosses it to the side. Pops the button of his dress pants open. His cock is straining against the constricting material, and when he pulls his pants off, he can see the front of his boxers already damp with precome, hid dick practically begging for release. He shucks his boxers off, groaning quietly to himself when his cock is freed, curving heavily against his stomach. He hisses when he takes himself in his hand and gives himself a few long strokes, eyes falling upon Alex's body: his arms, stretching above his head, his wrists still bound by his tie. His head, pushed back on the pillow, his hair a right mess but he looks beautiful, his lips parted open because he's too out of it to close them. His legs, still held to his chest because he's a good boy, such a good fucking boy, and he would stay in that position for hours if Henry told him to, a silent plea for Henry to get to it already and fuck him. But he would wait, if Henry said so. He would whine and stare at him with pleading eyes, but he would obey.
God, he would do anything Henry says.
Henry gently brings Alex's legs back down, his feet falling on the mattress with a small bounce. He settles in between Alex's legs and their cocks slide together. Henry suppresses a groan. He told Alex he wasn't going to touch him. He doesn't want to give his cock any sort of stimulation.
So, with great difficulty, he lifts his hips up an inch or two so Alex has to chase the feel of his throbbing dick against his skin. He slides his hands to Alex's shoulders, briefly soothing the muscles that are surely aching, moves up Alex's arms until he feels the silk encircling Alex's wrists. He tugs on the knot until it loosens.
Alex blinks at him in confusion. "What," he manages.
Henry shushes him with a careful kiss on his lips. "I'm going to fuck you now," he says against his skin, kissing a slow trail along his jaw. "Can you turn over for me?"
He can feel the shivers that rack through Alex's body. "Fuck. God, yes. Please."
Henry nods. "And your color?"
"Green," Alex says immediately, a whisper against his slightly swollen lips.
Henry helps him move onto his front, sticking his ass in the air, supporting the rest of his weight on his elbows. Henry runs his hands along his lower back, the curves of his ass, the soft skin of his thighs. He pauses momentarily to reach for the lube bottle in the nightstand drawer, nearly empty, he notes; they'll have to some get more soon. Alex groans from the sound of the cap opening alone.
Henry squirts lube on three fingers and begins to shallowly thrust them in and out of Alex. He's not worried about stretching him; his hole is loose enough from Henry's tongue, so this is more of foreplay than anything. But as much as he loves teasing Alex, circling lube around his hole, deliberately avoiding his prostate, having complete control over him, his own desires start to creep up on him. Namely, the need to sink his aching cock into Alex's tight ass.
He hastily pours more lube on his palm and covers his dick with the warm substance. He's so turned on that he could come from the sensation alone, and he actually has to pause to wrap his hand around the base of his cock and squeeze. When he feels like he can move again without instantly coming, he moves back up the bed on his knees, grabbing Alex's hips and pulling his ass to his waist. His lube-slicked cock slides in between his ass cheeks, and Henry moans without meaning to.
"Please," Alex whimpers. He's trembling from where he's supporting himself on his elbows. He's not going to last long like this.
The flushed head of Henry's cock presses against Alex's hole, the precome dripping from the tip mixing in with the lube. He stays still, rubbing his cock against Alex's hole for a second longer, and then he's finally, finally pushing into Alex.
It's so good. It's so, so good. Alex is tight all over, his muscles squeezing his cock just right, making Henry involuntarily thrust into the inviting heat. Henry is moaning, unable to focus on anything except for Alex; his full ass, his strong thighs, the curves of his back, his already shaking shoulders. He doesn't stop until he's buried in all the way, his hips flush against Alex's ass. He's trembling. So is Alex. Christ, he needed this. He still needs this. He rolls his hips, and Alex gives a weak moan.
"I've got you, love," Henry whispers. He runs his hands soothingly over the dips in Alex's back, over his full ass. "Now tell me what you need."
Alex turns his head to the side, his face contorted with pleasure, and whispers, "Fuck me."
Henry growls, drawing his hips back before snapping them back up. He keeps his thrusts steady but hard, loving the way Alex moves with him, how his ass is so greedy that he needs all of Henry's cock inside of him at all times. He digs his nails into Alex's waist, hard, harder than he usually would but they're both too far gone to care, raking them down his sides, bright red lines appearing on his skin. It should not be as hot as he makes it out to be, but it is, and he holds Alex down with a hand on the back of his neck and fucks harder into him.
The only thing Henry can hear is the slapping of skin on skin and Alex's gasps and moans, the hitches in his breath, his soft whimpers, the slick sound of lube. He's lost, so fucking lost, and every disgusting feeling that built up inside of him during his trip to London seems to fade away with each thrust, with each moan that slips from Alex's lips. He spreads Alex's cheeks with his hands, hungrily watching the way his cock reappears from his hole, glistening with lube, then disappearing into him again, and the sight makes his head drop back and moan wantonly. His thrusts threaten to grow more erratic, but he stays put, keeps them as steady and rhythmic as he can, because he's not quite done with Alex just yet.
Alex is moaning his name, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and Henry bites on his lip so hard that he won't be surprised if he tastes blood later on. He wraps one arm around Alex's waist, the other sliding under his shoulder, and hauls Alex up so he's standing on his knees, his back pressed entirely against Henry's chest. His head immediately drops back to rest on Henry's shoulder, already too fucked out to support any part of himself. Henry digs his nails into his hip and fucks him twice as hard.
Alex snakes one arm around Henry's neck and curls his fingers into his hair, probably for some leverage, to feel like he has some sort of grip on what's happening. Henry leaves wet kisses on his neck. He can feel the heat pooling in his gut, spreading like fire through his veins, and his balls are drawn so tight, and Alex feels so good, so warm, so eager, and Henry catches a glimpse of Alex's cock, an obscene amount of precome dripping from the tip onto the sheets below, so fucking desperate after being deprived of touch, and Henry can't hold back any longer.
"Fuck, Alex," he pants as he gives into the pleasure, pounding into Alex sloppily, his only goal to get the both of them off. He turns his head to the side, captures Alex's mouth in a kiss. It's an awkward angle, and they're breathing into their mouths more than actually kissing, but Alex's lips are soft and he moans into his mouth, those delicious noises, and Henry can only think about how Alex must be dying from the lack of stimulation his cock has been given. All because of him. All because he said so. Fuck, fuck.
"Gorgeous," Henry breathes out, licking into his mouth, and Alex whines. "So gorgeous, and all for me. Isn't that right, love?"
"J-Just for you," Alex chokes out, and Henry's heart swells with love. He angles his hips slightly, and on his next thrust, he hits Alex's prostate dead-on. Alex's entire body goes limp. He would have collapsed onto the bed if Henry wasn't holding him up. "I need to come, Henry, need to come —"
"What did I tell you?" Henry growls in his ear. Now that he's found Alex's prostate again, he's relentless, gripping his hips so tight that Alex can't move away even if he wants to. "You won't come until I say so. Was that not clear?" He thrusts particularly deep, a guttural groan escaping deep from Alex's chest. "Do I need to remind you of who's in charge?"
"No," Alex gasps, his face turned towards Henry's chest. He bites down on the place where his neck meets his collarbone. "No, but — baby, please."
"Please — what?" Henry manages. It's getting harder and harder to mask his own pleasure, and with his orgasm just about to bubble over, he can't believe he can still make himself sound put together. "You know the — fuck — the rules. If you want something, beg."
"Oh, Jesus," Alex whimpers. He has no shame, his hips moving in time with Henry's brutal thrusts, and each time it makes more and more precome drip down his untouched dick, and the vision is so pornographic that Henry nearly blows his load right there. Alex's fingers curl tighter into Henry's hair. "Please, I need it, I need you, need your perfect fucking hands on my cock, need to come so bad," he babbles. He cries out when Henry slams hard into his prostate. "I want to feel you, want to feel your come in me, I want you to fill me up..."
Alex clenches around Henry's cock, and it's all over for him. He comes with a force so great that he just about blacks out, ruthlessly fucking into Alex as he spills into him. It feels as if his orgasm lasts forever. He keeps working his hips, and Alex is whining quietly from where his head is tucked against his shoulder, small slurs of "Yes, yes," escaping his lips.
Henry wraps his hand around Alex's aching cock, finally, finally, and it's so slick with his precome, and Alex's moans only grow louder, and Henry strokes him once, twice more before leaning into his ear and whispering, "Come for me."
Alex spills into Henry's hand with a groan so loud that his entire body shivers. Henry fucks him through it, riding out his own orgasm, and Alex is squeezing around his dick so hard that it's not easy to fuck into, but he does it anyway because nothing has ever felt so good. He feels Alex's come dripping down his fingers, sticky and warm and wonderful, and eventually his hips slow to a stop, and he's left sitting up on his knees, holding Alex tightly to his chest, boneless against him, and it's the first time in eight days that he can think clearly.
He presses a lingering kiss to Alex's cheek, trying to help him with the come down. Alex is shivering. His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted. He looks well-fucked, and Henry's heart swells knowing that he was able to give Alex exactly what he wanted. What he needed. He kisses his cheek again, softer this time.
"Love," he says after a moment. There's a slight rasp to his voice. "I have to get you cleaned up." His cock is softening inside of Alex, and he can't imagine it feels good for him, but Alex isn't protesting. Henry nuzzles the spot behind his ear. "Alex, darling."
Alex makes a disgruntled noise.
Henry chuckles quietly. "Come on." He tries to loosen his hold around Alex's waist, but he's afraid Alex will drop like a rag doll if he isn't holding onto him. "Alex. You'll feel better. I promise."
Slowly, Alex nods against his neck.
Henry helps lower him back on his front and carefully pulls out of him. He's mesmerized for a moment when his cock slips out, come slowly leaking out of Alex's hole, and his cock twitches threateningly. He moves Alex onto his back, kisses a soft trail up Alex's thigh, his stomach, his chest, his neck. He stops when he gets eye-level with Alex, sliding his nose against his jaw. "I'm going to draw a bath. Does that sound good?"
Alex nods again. He slides his hand up Henry's cheek, curling weakly into his hair, and brings him down for a kiss. It's clumsy and uncoordinated, but Henry loves it, opens his mouth and kisses him with as much affection and gratitude as he can muster.
"I love you," Alex mumbles when they break apart.
Henry's heart swells. "I love you, too." He kisses the corner of his mouth. "I'll be right back."
He disappears into the bathroom and turns on the warm water. While the bath fills up, he fishes a glass stored in the medicine cabinet and fills it up with water, placing it on a small stand next to the bathtub. He takes out a candle next, lavender scented, lights it and sets it down next to the glass of water. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror as he turns to leave. His hair is a mess, his pupils blown. A pink flush is still apparent in his neck and chest. He looks just as relaxed as he feels.
Alex must have slipped into a post-coital slumber, because when Henry walks back into their bedroom, his eyes are closed and he's breathing evenly. It pains Henry to wake him up, especially when he groans and presses his face into the pillow, but after some coaxing and light kisses to his face, he helps Alex out of bed, leads him to the bathroom on shaking legs, fits himself behind him in the warm water.
Alex drinks from the glass while Henry takes a warm washcloth over his back, across his shoulders, down his arms. A comfortable silence hangs between them, the only sound being the quiet lapping of the bath water against the tub. Henry holds him close, breathes him in.
A moment later, Alex sets the now-empty glass back on the stand and says, "I'm sorry."
Henry stops his movements. "What for?"
"For, y'know," Alex says. He turns his eyes to the side. "Doing what I always do. Not taking care of myself."
"Alex," Henry says softly, "don't apologize. If anything, I'm sorry I couldn't be with you."
"Not your fault," Alex murmurs.
"And it's not yours, either."
Alex falls silent after that, fingertips skimming lightly over Henry's knee. "How are you feeling?" he asks after a beat.
Henry exhales slowly. "Better," he says honestly. "My head is more clear, no doubt. It sometimes... gets a bit much," he admits. "I mean. You know what they're like."
"Yeah," Alex agrees. He turns his head to the side, nuzzles the underside of Henry's jaw. "Hey. I'll come with next time. Save you as much as I can."
Henry laughs lightly in his ear. "That sounds nice, if unlikely. I can't see any time where my Gran won't drive me up the wall."
"Perfect, then you can have your filthy way with me in that revolting gold bed."
Henry laughs again, kissing his temple. "Well, it shouldn't be too bad if you're with me."
He washes Alex's hair, massaging his scalp gently, his heart flipping with each of Alex's pleased hums. They only get out when the water turns lukewarm and their fingertips start to wrinkle up. Henry dries them off with a soft towel and blows out the candle, and he and Alex fall into bed together, a mess of tangled limbs and stray kisses. Henry is just about to doze off when he feels the press of Alex's lips against the hollow of his throat.
"Thank you," Alex whispers, "for grounding me."
Henry pulls him closer, buries his face in his damp curls and breathes him in. "It's what you do for me," he says against his hair. "I'm happy to return the favor."
They fall asleep like that, curled up in each other's embrace, and Henry finally remembers what it's like to be at peace.