#bottom alex

Which had been brushed under the non-existent carpet in their shared flat on January 1 as if nothing significant had happened and blamed on the alcohol and the fact that they had both been painfully single for a while. And now Henry was supposed to go on with his life as if his best friend hadn’t shoved his tongue down his throat - a very skillful tongue, by the way. 10/10. No notes.

It’s one thing to quietly pine for your best friend, keeping your feelings hidden for the sake of the friendship. It’s another thing entirely to know firsthand what that best friend can do with his mouth and not be able to enjoy it on a regular basis. They had always been very affectionate, never thinking twice before hugging or cuddling on the couch during movie nights. Alex had come to terms with his sexuality a few years ago, before meeting Henry, so Henry had accepted that even if Alex was attracted to men, he wasn’t attracted to him. As long as he had Alex in his life, he was content with that.

But Alex, tonight, is a frustratingly perfect sight. Clad in black jeans and a white henley, his curls in charming disarray, he has the girl completely captivated. Henry can’t really blame her.

“Pretty sure this girl has done nothing to you, so why the glaring?” A voice resonates in his ear, and he turns around to meet the knowing smirk of his other best mate, Pez.

“I do not glare,” he instinctively denies, even though he knows it’s useless. Pez reads him like an open book and has figured out his feelings for Alex long ago.

“Could have fooled me,” Pez mutters, and Henry can’t help himself.

“Who is she? She looks familiar. Do you know her?”

Percy shoots him such a disbelieving look that Henry gets slightly defensive. “What?”

His friend lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I always brag about how smart my best mate is, and then you go and remind me how much of an oblivious sod you are as well sometimes.” It’s said with a gentle pat on his shoulder and in such an affectionate tone that Henry can’t get mad and snorts instead.

“Well, enlighten me, then.”

“Her name is Georgia. She’s a law student, hence how she knows our dear Alexander, and she’s from Australia.”

Henry frowns. “Ok, that doesn’t ring any bell.” 

“I also call her the Australian Henry,” Pez whispers conspiratorially.

“What?”

“Just look at her, darling.”

Following Pez's advice, Henry observes Georgia again, scrutinizing her sandy blond hair, porcelain complexion, blue eyes, and full lips stretched over a bright, gummy smile. She’s dressed in a soft blue sweater and a denim skirt. It strikes him then, noticing his own attire mirroring hers with a similar blue jumper and jeans.

I call her the Australian Henry.

Oh. Oh.

“No wonder our dear Alex seems so smitten,” Percy adds with a nod to the young student who’s currently laughing out loud at whatever Georgia told him.

Oh great, she’s funny too. Alex only ever laughs like that when Henry uses his sarcastic wits and…

The realization of what Pez implies hits him like a freight train, and he stumbles slightly backward, his hand gripping the table behind him to find some balance.

“And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted…” Pez starts singing, his face full of glee.

“I…No, it’s not…I mean…how…” Henry stammers, struggling to process the revelation. His brain refuses to cooperate, overwhelmed by the enormity of what this could mean. So he follows his first instinct: flee from the potential threat (the threat being, in this case, a broken heart. He doesn’t precisely fancy the idea.)

“It’s just a coincidence,” he asserts firmly. 

Pez's eyes roll with such intensity that Henry fears they might become permanently lodged in their sockets.

“Look, Hazza, We’re in America, so Land of the Free and all that. Do with that information what you will. You can keep your pretty head in the sand or decide Alex is worth taking a leap of faith. Your move, darling. Toodles!”

Henry shakes his head, feeling a blend of exasperation and fondness as he watches Percy depart. Deciding he needs a distraction from his preoccupation with Alex and the charming Australian, he heads to get another drink. Taking a sip, he winces at the overly sweet taste of the punch.

He should have stuck with his usual gin and tonic.

"Is it really that bad?"

Henry smiles as his classmate, Oliver, approaches and gestures at the drink. 

"Worse," he chuckles, setting the cup on a nearby table. Henry remembers Oliver is a member of the frat house hosting the party. He's also attractive, with brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile. They'd met a few times, chatted after class or on campus, and exchanged notes, but they'd never really talked in a more casual setting.

"Where’s your boyfriend?"

"My... Oh, you mean Alex? He’s not my boyfriend—just my best mate. And roommate as well."

Something shifts in Oliver’s expression.

"Uh, I always thought, with how he looks at you..." Oliver's voice trails off, a hint of uncertainty in his tone as he steps closer. “Good to know I was wrong.”

Henry's brows knit together in confusion. "The way he looks at me?"

"Hey, I've only seen the two of you together a few times, so I just assumed… I'm happy to hear he’s not, though." Oliver's smile widens, his chuckle growing bolder. "I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while, but… So, how about we grab coffee sometime?"

Henry’s brain screeches to a halt for the second time that night. He really hopes this constant mental whiplash doesn’t leave him with permanent brain damage.

Amidst the turmoil in his mind, two distinct facts pierce through :  First, two different people have hinted at the possibility of Alex harboring a crush and/or deeper feelings for him. Second, Oliver's sudden proposition has caught him completely off guard.

"Actually, I drink tea," he responds a bit awkwardly. Oliver laughs as if Henry has said the most amusing thing.

It’s endearing.

Henry can't find a reason to say no. Yes, he knows he should consider what Percy and even Oliver said about Alex. Still, a part of him vehemently refuses to believe there’s any real possibility of it being true. That part of him always wins because hope often brings with it the risk of crushing disappointment.

Besides, Alex is a big boy. If— and that’s a big if— he really has feelings for Henry, surely he would mention it, right?

Henry opens his mouth, ready to accept Oliver’s offer.

"Ah, there you are!"

Both of them turn as Alex joins them, a broad grin on his face but an unusual glint in his whisky-colored eyes. He extends a hand towards Oliver. 

“Alex,” he says, his voice casual, carrying an undercurrent of something. 

“Oliver. We’ve met a few times, though.”

Alex doesn’t bother to reply, instead draping an arm around Henry's shoulder, a gesture he’s done countless times before. Still, this time, it feels different, especially when he says in that particular voice, “I was wondering where you disappeared to, Baby.”

Henry curses internally. Alex is always generous with terms of endearment, often calling people ‘sweetheart,’ but ‘Baby’ is reserved solely for Henry. And he both hates and adores how it turns his spine into jelly every single time.

But something about Alex’s sudden, timely appearance and his cheerfulness, which seems a bit too forced, doesn’t sit right with Henry.

He stiffens and crosses his arms. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he says a bit curtly, biting his lip to stop himself from mentioning that Alex had been talking to Georgia the entire time and didn’t seem to be looking for him very hard.

Alex’s smile fades slightly as he senses the shift in Henry’s demeanor, giving him a thoughtful look.

Leaning towards Oliver, Alex whispers a few words in his ear. To Henry’s utter astonishment, Oliver nods and says, “Of course, I understand, man,” and without sparing a second glance at Henry, he walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

What in the Bloody Hell...?

“What just happened?”

“He just wanted to fuck you.”

“He was asking me out for coffee, and I was about to say yes.”

Alex shrugs. “Coffee, fucking, same difference.”

Henry feels his irritation bubbling to the surface. Who does Alex think he is, flirting with some random girl, then pulling some ridiculous territorial stunt the minute he sees Henry talking to someone else?

“You don’t even know him. He’s one of the kindest guys I know,” Henry argues.

Alex's expression softens to something almost like pity, and seriously, what the fuck?

"Oh, Hen. Do you know that 32% of those 'nice guys' turn out to be serial killers?" Alex retorts.

Henry sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to rein in his aggravation. “You’re making that up.”

“Not even close. Law student, remember? I know my statistics. And as your best friend, I have to make sure you don’t end up on the ten o’clock news.”

Henry closes his eyes, torn between the urge to laugh at the absurdity of their conversation and to cry in frustration because, really, what is Alex’s deal?

“Whatever you say, Alex. I’m going home.”

He strides away without glancing back, done with the maze of mixed signals for tonight. As he steps out of the house and reaches for his phone to call a taxi, Alex catches up to him.

“Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

Henry ignores him. He just told him he was leaving; he sees no point in repeating himself.

“What did I do?” Alex asks, his voice tinged with genuine confusion and that Henry can’t ignore.

“I was having a nice chat with a guy - who happens to be a classmate, by the way - and you barged in and chased him away for no bloody reason!” 

“I told you…”

Anger rises back up in Henry’s throat, and he steps closer. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alex, do not give me that serial killer bullshit again. It makes no sense, and you know it. Go back to Georgia,” he spats. It’s probably a bit too spiteful, but he doesn’t really care at this point.

Alex frowns. “The State?” he asks with a look of bewilderment. “Why would I go there?”

“Oh my God. Not the State! The girl you’ve been talking to all evening. Because no one was rude enough to interrupt your conversation ?”

“Oh! She left with her boyfriend. I don’t think he would appreciate it if I tagged along.”

Henry’s anger falters at this tidbit of information. Not that it changes anything. So he desperately focuses back on his phone, still trying to call that stupid taxi.

“Hen, please,” Alex says, soft contrition coloring his voice. Henry hates himself a little for how those words tug at his heart, softening his ire. Staying mad at Alex for any significant length of time seems like an impossible task.

That part of his brain, the one that's hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best mate, makes it all the more challenging. It’s maddening and endearing all at once.

Even more so when Alex catches one of his hands, his thumb caressing his knuckles in a soothing gesture and remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep like this. I’m a fucking moron. But he was not good enough for you.”

There’s a tense silence for a moment, and then Henry can’t help but soften at his earnestness, even if he’s still confused. 

"How could you possibly know that? You barely talked to him for two minutes."

I don’t need to know him. I know you. You would be bored out of your fucking mind after twenty minutes.”

Henry sighs, turning his head away so Alex doesn’t see his anger dissolving into a reluctant smile he can’t fully suppress. 

“You are such a bloody nuisance,” he mutters, though there is no heat in his words.

“But I’m your nuisance, right?”  

He looks back at Alex, his breath catching in his throat. Beneath the humor in his voice, there is a vulnerability Henry hasn’t heard before - at least not directed at him - and something in his gaze is troubling and intoxicating.

Something in Henry snaps. Fueled by a sudden, almost reckless determination, he takes a leap of faith, hoping Alex will meet him halfway and not let him fall into the abyss.

With one hand firmly on his chest, Henry pushes Alex backward until his back presses against a sturdy tree. Gently cupping the back of Alex's head, he brings their faces closer, halting just as their lips are a mere millimeter apart. He offers Alex a moment to pull away, to say that he doesn’t share the same feelings.

Alex doesn’t. Instead, with a barely audible gasp, he leans forward and closes the distance between them, their lips finally meeting in a soft, tentative kiss at first.

 Henry’s heart races as he deepens the kiss, his hand sliding from Alex's chest to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Alex responds in kind, his arms encircling Henry's neck as he leans into the kiss, all hesitation melting away. 

The world around them fades into a blur as Alex lets out a soft, needy moan. He pulls Henry impossibly closer; their bodies pressed together so tightly that it feels like their heartbeats merge into one. The kiss grows more intense and desperate as Henry’s hand slides into glossy, brown curls, tugging not so gently, and Alex growls.

“Fuck, baby,” He pants, and if Henry weren’t already half-hard, the urgency in Alex’s voice would have done the trick. “I need you in me like, yesterday.” 

A few whistles snap them back to the present, reminding them they are still in the middle of the street, engaged in something that could get them both arrested for extreme public indecency. Given the unexpected and exciting turn his evening has taken, jail is the last place Henry wants to end up tonight. Not when he has a large, comfortable bed at home where he plans to do very bad, unspeakable things to the gorgeous man still holding him.

“Right. Hold that thought,” Henry says to Alex, stepping back. Alex reluctantly lets him go, his eyes still smoldering with intensity. Henry shifts his attention to his phone's screen, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand instead of the fiery spark in Alex’s gaze.   

“Where’s that taxi?” Alex grumbles, breathless. Henry can’t help but feel a bit smug hearing the strain in his voice. He definitely plans to leave Alex completely speechless soon. Henry knows it's a formidable challenge, but he’s nothing if not determined—especially when it promises plenty of satisfying orgasms.

Obviously, they will need to have a conversation at some point, but Henry can only hope they are on the same page right now. After this night, their friendship will be irreversibly altered, opening up uncharted territory between them. However, something in Alex’s eyes, beyond the raw desire, suggests his feelings run much deeper than mere lust or the chance for a one-night stand.

“I still haven’t called it. I got sidetracked listening to you ramble on about stupid serial killer statistics.”

Alex grins. “Oh yeah, I totally made that up.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “No kidding,” he deadpanned, finally placing his order with a satisfied hum.

Alex, who seems unable to keep his hands to himself - and Henry already knew that, but not to that extent, obviously - comes behind him and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist, trailing his lips on Henry’s throat

“I meant what I said. I was a fucking moron.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me, love,” he replies, laughing at Alex’s indignant ‘Hey!’ but his laugh turns into a gasp when Alex slides a leg between Henry’s, his muscular Lacrosse player thigh pressing against his groin, creating a delicious friction.

Henry whimpers, his head leaning back on Alex’s shoulder as he feels Alex’s hand venture dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, grazing the soft skin under his sweater. Henry thinks that if the taxi doesn’t arrive in the next two minutes, he will throw years of proper British education and etiquette through the window and have his wicked way with Alex in front of the whole bloody frathouse. 

“I’ve been dreaming of having your dick in my hand, my mouth, and my ass for months, baby,” Alex whispers against his throat, “Can’t blame me for being a little eager.”

“Do you hear me…ah!...complaining?” Henry exhales as he feels Alex’s tongue trace a fiery path on his neck, right at the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

With immense effort, Henry checks his phone and sees that the driver is one minute away. He disentangles himself from Alex, ignoring his protests. It doesn’t seem necessary to put on a show for the driver.

The journey to their flat is brief, filled with shared smiles and knowing glances. They refrain from touching, afraid of scarring the driver if they only lose a fraction of the control they struggle to maintain.

Once in their apartment, though, all bets are off.

The front door is barely shut before Henry shoves Alex against it, their lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His hands slip beneath Alex’s henley, fingers grazing over his stomach's firm, soft muscles. Alex emits a shaky groan, and Henry revels in the sound, feeling slightly intoxicated by the power he now holds over the man he has adored from a distance for so long.

Henry steps back, pulling Alex by his waistband while skilfully unbuttoning it, and they make their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind them until they find themselves naked, standing by Henry’s bed.

Henry’s heart races as he pauses to look into Alex’s eyes, his gaze soft and filled with want. They stand close, skin against skin, the room around them quiet and serene, encapsulating them in a comforting bubble. Henry gently brushes a stray curl from Alex’s forehead, and Alex smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners—an expression that always makes Henry’s breath hitch. Alex wraps an arm around Henry’s waist, his hand cupping Henry’s cheek as they share another kiss, their bodies melding seamlessly together.

"Are you sure?" Henry asks, giving Alex one last chance to change his mind. Truth be told, if Alex does, Henry isn't sure his heart could handle it. Now that he has had a taste of Alex, freely roaming his hands over Alex's gorgeous body, the thought of returning to their previous status quo feels unbearable.

The devoted, warm look in Alex’s eyes reassures him immediately. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Baby.”

Henry shivers at the pet name because it definitely holds a more profound, intimate meaning now.

Henry takes his hand, and they both kneel on the bed, facing each other. He gasps Alex’s name as his fingers trail down his side before reaching their intended target and wrapping around Henry’s cock, pulling a noise from his chest he’s never heard before. It’s been a while since he had a hand that wasn’t his own, and the fact that it belongs to Alex sends pure electricity throughout his body. Alex grins against Henry’s mouth as he says in a gravelly voice, “I want you to fuck me so hard I have to bite the pillow so nobody hears my screams.”

Henry bites his lip, long, slow swoops of desire curling in his belly. “What if I want to hear you scream?”

Alex smirks. “Well, bring it on, then, Sweetheart. Lube?” 

"Drawer on the right," Henry pants, and Alex reaches toward the nightstand, grabbing the bottle. They don’t mention condoms since they are both clean, and neither had engaged in any encounters since their most recent medical tests.

He hears a soft thud followed by a heartfelt "Shit!" from Alex.

"What?"

"I dropped the bottle."

Alex leaps off the bed, and Henry watches as he disappears, crouching next to it on his knees. "It rolled under," Alex informs him. "I can't find it."

Henry listens to Alex cursing as he fishes under the bed with his arm. Unable to contain his laughter, Henry says, "God, you're a bloody disaster," feeling his heart swell with love for the naked dork next to him.

He’s not letting the night end without professing those words to Alex, consequences be damned.

"You know, there's this thing called a vacuum cleaner, Hen. You've got a whole colony of dust bunnies under here," Alex comments casually, despite them being moments away from a significant shift in their relationship. Henry snorts.

"I'll take your advice under consideration, darling.”

“Aha!” A triumphant shout erupts as Alex reappears, holding the offending bottle. It is indeed covered in dust, as is Alex’s arm and hand.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” he says, jogging to the bathroom. Henry hears water running before Alex returns, handing the now-clean bottle to Henry, seated on the bedspread. 

"Thank you, love. Now, on your hands and knees."

Alex grins and eagerly complies. "Bossy."

Henry keeps his expression neutral, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Alex's grin falters slightly as he gulps. "No."

Henry smirks and pinches one of Alex’s buttocks, making him moan deeply. "Good boy," Henry purrs, the sound sending a thrill through him. He opens the bottle, squeezing some onto his hand. He spreads Alex’s cheeks, bringing a finger to his rim, and rubs the tip softly, almost teasing but not quite.

He’s savoring the moment.

Alex’s breath stutters as he reaches to brace a hand on the headboard, pushing back against Henry’s hand. Henry methodically presses in one finger, then another, maintaining a leisurely pace.

"You can add another, baby, I’m ready," Alex pleads, desperation tinting his voice.

Henry smiles sweetly. "It’s adorable that you think you have a say in this, darling."

"I’m not above begging, you know."

"Then let’s hear it," Henry murmurs. 

Alex shoots him a heated look, a mix of exasperation and desire. "You’re such an asshole."

Still, Henry takes pity on him, adding a third finger and sliding deeper, preparing him, opening him. With the next thrust, Henry finds his prostate, eliciting a cry of pure pleasure from Alex.

"Oh fuck, yes! Right there…Oh, God."

Henry hums, leaning in to kiss Alex’s shoulder. “Henry’s fine.”

Alex huffs. “You’re not as funny as you think, Sweetheart.”

"Good. I wasn't aiming to make you laugh. Didn't someone mention something about screaming my name?" Henry teases.

He senses Alex shivering beneath him, and his stomach flutters at the sultry gaze Alex directs his way from under those fucking eyelashes. He puts a caressing hand on Alex’s buttock, spreading the cheek as he takes his cock in hand, the anticipation of being soon buried into Alex’s heat making his skin tingle.  

"Wait, baby, I want to see you." Alex requests.

Henry retreats, and Alex turns over, lying on his back with his legs spread open, inviting Henry to crawl back over him. They share a tender smile.

"Hi," Henry greets, unable to conceal a gummy smile at the sight of Alex spread eagerly beneath him.

"Hey yourself."

"Are you ready?"

"Do your worst," Alex replies cheekily, making Henry snort.

All traces of humor vanish quickly as Henry slides in, pushing to the hilt in one sleek motion. They both let out a keening moan. Henry leans in, his tongue tracing Alex’s bottom lip, and Alex lifts his head, pressing his mouth to Henry’s in a hungry kiss. 

Henry withdraws almost entirely before smoothly reentering with a single deliberate motion, drawing a groan from deep in his throat that echoes Alex’s gasp at the friction. Alex digs his heels into Henry's lower back, arching up to meet his every thrust, ensuring their bodies remain intimately connected. Henry responds with a throaty whimper as Alex's movements drive him in deeper. The slow thrusts, paired with Alex’s cock trapped between their bodies, create intense pressure.

“Fuck, Hen, I’m going to—” Alex's voice cracks as he nears his peak, the overwhelming sensation turning his cry into a sob. Henry slides a hand between them to stroke him through it, murmuring praise against Alex’s gasping mouth.

“You feel incredible, love,” Henry gasps, his voice thick with emotion.

“I want you to come inside me,” Alex breathes.

Henry’s thrusts intensify, becoming deeper and harder, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. It only takes a few minutes until the heat spirals low in his belly, blood thrumming through his veins. The pleasure that explodes behind his eyes is blinding, a kaleidoscope of sensations so potent and overwhelming that it steals his breath away, 

Henry collapses next to Alex, who instantly turns towards him, draping a leg over Henry’s thighs and an arm across his chest. As they both catch their breath, Henry hopes the wonder in Alex’s eyes mirrors his own. Their fingers intertwine over Henry's chest, and Henry keeps his gaze fixed on Alex, admiring how his eyelashes flutter prettily against his cheeks as he fights to stay awake. An exhale escapes Henry's lips, a contented sound mingling with the heady scents enveloping them— the musk of sweat, the lingering trace of their lovemaking, and that indescribable, intoxicating essence uniquely Alex.

For a few minutes, they doze off, basking in the afterglow, their breath synchronizing until the stickiness on Henry’s stomach becomes uncomfortable. Henry softly presses a kiss to Alex’s forehead and gently caresses his arm to rouse him. “We should clean up, love.”

“M’comfy,” Alex mumbles, shifting his leg and brushing against Henry’s cock, which, to Henry’s surprise, twitches with interest.

"Seems someone is eager for another round," Alex teases playfully, one eye cracking open to reveal a mischievous glint.

"Do you think there's enough space for both of us in the shower?" Henry quips, raising an eyebrow as amusement dances in Alex's gaze.  He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Alex's eyes light up with mischief. "Only one way to find out," he declares, seizing Henry’s hand and tugging him toward the bathroom.

They step into the bathroom, and soon, the sound of rushing water fills the air. They both manage to squeeze into the surprisingly spacious shower, warm water cascading over their bodies.

Henry wraps his arms around Alex, pulling him close until they are pressed together under the spray. "Looks like I was right," Henry murmurs, his voice low and playful.

Alex grins, tracing a finger along Henry's jawline. "You're right more often than I like to admit," he teases, tipping his head back to let the water soak his hair.

With a sly smile, Henry leans in, capturing Alex's lips in a slow, passionate kiss before Alex falls on his knees, taking his sweet, sweet time to take Henry apart, and Henry sighs blissfully, his heart swelling with love at the care and devotion in Alex’s every touch. 

Once done with the shower and having dried themselves, Henry climbs back on the bed, ready for a cuddling session with his boyfriend - yes, he’s aware they haven’t labeled it yet or even properly talked. Still, to be honest, he’s already planning his proposal in his head. He’s that far gone, and he is absolutely fine with it.

But Alex doesn’t follow him, lingering in all his naked glory next to the bed, a look of uncertainty on his face, and Henry’s heart stops for a second.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a tremor in his voice, suddenly wary of what Alex might say, of having completely misread what happened between them.

“Should I…I mean…Do you want me to go back to my room?” Alex asks tentatively, his vulnerability tugging at Henry's heartstrings.

Henry’s heart breaks a little because he’s familiar with Alex’s dating history, his struggle with his ADHD, and how it has affected most of his relationships. His partners deemed him ‘too much’ after a few weeks, sometimes even a few days. The irony is that what those people saw as flaws are some of the numerous reasons why Henry loves Alex so deeply.

He’s not too much. He’s absolutely perfect. And Henry will make sure that Alex hears it every day for the rest of their lives.

“What I want is for you to bring your gorgeous ass back to bed with me and not go back to your room tonight. Or ever, preferably.”

Relief floods Alex's features, his lips curling into a smile as he swiftly joins Henry under the covers. Their bodies fit together seamlessly like puzzle pieces, seeking closeness and comfort. Henry's hand glides in lazy patterns over Alex's back as they nestle together, Alex nuzzling his nose against Henry's neck, peppering soft kisses along his throat.

“Hen?” Alex’s voice breaks the silence.

“Mmmh?”

“Just to put it out there…” Alex's voice wavers with a mix of nerves and sincerity. 

Encouraged by Henry's loving smile, Alex takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Henry with intent. A slow smile spreads across his face as if reaching a decision.

“I love you.”

Henry’s smile matches his own, and a happy laugh bubbles out of his chest. Leave it to Alex to pour out grand declarations immediately after their first night together. Henry is so in love with this man that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I love you too, darling,” he whispers against Alex’s lips.

They will have time tomorrow to have a deeper conversation, but at this moment, as their mouths come together in a fervent kiss, no other words are necessary.

The girl looks familiar, but Henry can't place where he's seen her before.. It doesn't matter. He only cares because Alex has been engrossed in conversation with her for the past 15 minutes, all smiles, warm eyes, and subtle touches, and Henry's heart aches with a mix of envy and resentment. He’s acutely aware that he has no right to feel this way, yet jealousy churns within him, deep and unsettling. The thing is, it has been a bit weird between them since New Year’s Eve. Since what was meant to be a chaste New Year’s Eve peck on the lips when the clock struck midnight had unexpectedly transformed into a ten-minute, full-blown make-out session. Which had been brushed under the non-existent carpet in their shared flat on January 1 as if nothing significant had happened and blamed on the alcohol and the fact that they had both been painfully single for a while. And now Henry was supposed to go on with his life as if his best friend hadn’t shoved his tongue down his throat - a very skillful tongue, by the way. 10/10. No notes. It’s one thing to quietly pine for your best friend, keeping your feelings hidden for the sake of the friendship. It’s another thing entirely to know firsthand what that best friend can do with his mouth and not be able to enjoy it on a regular basis. They had always been very affectionate, never thinking twice before hugging or cuddling on the couch during movie nights. Alex had come to terms with his sexuality a few years ago, before meeting Henry, so Henry had accepted that even if Alex was attracted to men, he wasn’t attracted to him. As long as he had Alex in his life, he was content with that. But Alex, tonight, is a frustratingly perfect sight. Clad in black jeans and a white henley, his curls in charming disarray, he has the girl completely captivated. Henry can’t really blame her.

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