Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everything goes wrong when Pez gets engaged.

Henry loves Pez, from the top of his pink hair to the bottoms of his rhinestone-studded cowboy boots. He’s the best mate anyone can ask for, the best of men, and the best of best friends. But, he does have a habit of doing life…spontaneously. A little outrageously too.

“Hazza,” Pez calls Henry at two am in the morning. “I did something.”

“It’s three in the morning,” Henry croaks. “What could you possibly have done?”

“Well, technically it’s six in the morning here,” Pez chirps, “We do live across the country from each other, as much as it saddens my heart to be reminded of so every morning when I wake, with every breath I draw from my lungs—”

“Pez, it’s three in the morning,” Henry says. “What do you want.”

“I…may have proposed to Nora and June.”

Henry falls off the bed.

“What?!” He shouts into his receiver.

“Ow,” Pez says, politely. “I think I’ve lost half my hearing, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry says, pulling himself up his sprawl on the ground. “You bloody what?”

“I..proposed?” Pez says. “Well, technically we all proposed to each other, though I was first. Isn’t it amazing how we all decided to propose to each other on the same day? I knew great minds think alike, but I’ve never understood how interconnected soulmates truly are, until—”

“I thought you were gonna wait?” Henry rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I thought you were gonna go to Bora Bora to propose.”

“Yes well,” Pez sighs, dreamily. “When you know, you know, darling.”

Henry rolls his eyes.

“So what happened?”

“Well, we were all hiking because that’s something that June likes doing now and Nora and I rarely say no to the love of our lives. And it was in the crack of dawn, I had a pebble in my shoe, Nora kept griping about a mosquito, and June was laughing at the two of us being novices. And then…I knew. I had to propose to my girls right then and there, or dammit, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I’ve been carrying around the ring box since I got it, so…It was perfect timing.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“So we hiked up to the top—nearly losing a shoe in the process—and just as the sun was coming up, I got down on one knee. June and Nora were furious, and for a second I was wondering if this was one of the stupidest ideas I’ve had so far and if I should just swan dive off the cliff to save us all the humiliation when June dropped down to one knee. She brought us up there to propose, said something about how the sunrise was the most romantic time of day, can you believe it?”

Henry could. He rubs his eyes again.

“Uh, no.”

“And then Nora looked at us and said something about her arranging a fancy dinner for later that night so that she could propose to us. And so. Here we are.”

“Jesus Christ,” Henry says again.

“My thoughts exactly,” Pez replies sagely, though Henry can practically hear the smile on his face. “I love those girls more than life itself.”

They stay quiet for a very long moment, mulling the information over. Henry blinks.

“Pez,” he shouts into the receiver, a smile growing on his face. “You’re engaged!”

“I know!” Pez shouts back, not to be outdone. “I was there!”

“This is insane,” Henry breathes. “Congratulations, Pezza.”

“Thank you, darling,” Pez laughs. “I always knew this day would come.”

Henry raises a brow. “If I recall correctly, you said you wanted to be a bachelor forever and die single and happy, buried under the weight of a few hundred cocktail ingredients.”

“Yes, well,” Pez says, briskly. “You also said that you would never date alpha dickheads who smoked too much and wore leather jackets, but we all make promises we don’t intend to keep, Hen.”

Henry rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling. “Hah, hah. I’ll let that go because you’re engaged and I don’t think anything could bring down that mood of yours, even if I tried.”

“Very wise. So, we were thinking of a winter wedding,” Pez hums. “All three of us like the aesthetic of it best. Do you think you’ll be able to fly down here in December for it? I’ll send the dates to you as soon as we have it planned.”

“Sure,” Henry says, flopping back down on the bed. “I’m a writer so I don’t exactly need to put in my vacation request hours, remember?”

Pez laughs.

“True that. We’ll also pay for your flight and travel expenses,” when Henry starts to protest, Pez talks over him like he doesn’t even hear him. “It’s our wedding. We make the rules and you have to follow them, sorry, darling.”

“Are you flying out every person in your wedding?” Henry grumbles. “Isn’t that too much?”

“We’re only flying out my man of honor, June’s man of honor, and Nora’s maid of honor,” Pez corrects. “Everyone else can find their own way.”

Henry’s eyes sting.

“I’m your man of honor?” he asks, feeling stupid and so warm on the inside, he might burst.

“Who else, Henry?” Pez’s voice is sweet. “Who else would it be?”

Henry clears his throat, but not before a choked sob wrangles its way out of it.

“Cry baby,” Pez accuses, though his own voice is thick.

“Me?” Henry laughs, wetly. “Never.” Then he blinks, slowly. “Wait,” he says, dread creeping up in his voice. “Is Bea Nora’s maid of honor?”

“Wouldn't be a wedding party without her.”

“So,” Henry’s heart drops. “Alexander is…June’s man of honor.”

“I mean,” Pez says, gently. “Expecting anyone other than him would be just plain stupid, Henry. And you’re not stupid.”

Henry groans and covers his eyes with a forearm.

Alex and he may be in the same friend group, but they’ve never considered each other anything more than ‘that one pesky gnat that won’t stop bothering me, but I have to somehow deal with.’ They had met in college when Pez started dating June, Alex’s sister, and Nora, Alex’s best friend, and their intense dislike for each other had not waxed and waned over the years. In fact, it had only grown—more cancerous, and more deadly—impossible to ignore, impossible to treat so late into its existence.

Even when their friend group had spread across the country post-graduation, Alex and Henry had impossibly found themselves stuck in the same city. In the same apartment building, no less. If there’s a God, which Henry was sure there wasn’t, He sure had a nasty sense of humor.

“I can’t believe this,” Alex had declared, when he and Henry had seen each other moving in for the first time. “Are you following me around, Fox?”

Henry had grit his teeth. “I have better things to do than follow you around, Alexander,” he had said and watched the lines of Alex’s jawline tense. Nobody ever called Alex ‘Alexander,’ not like Henry did. A spark of amusement had shot down his spine at that familiar, barely suppressed outrage. “I would rather follow a rat around the subway station.”

“Here’s to hoping it leads you to the rails and right in front of the subway car,” Alex had snapped back, temper flaring. His agitated scent had flooded the apartment hall then—all cardamom and violets—and Henry had fought the urge to inhale deeply.

He mimed a very pleasant, very mature gag instead.

“Reel it in, alpha,” he had said, keeping his face cool and uninterested. “Nobody in this hall, or on this planet, wants to choke on your scent so early in the morning.”

“Yeah?” Alex had leaned on his doorway, eyes dark. “Too bad. We’re neighbors now. So, you’re gonna choke on it, every morning, whether you like it or not, omega.”

What.

Henry’s face had flushed a bright red and he had stammered.

“What is wrong with you?” he had snapped.

Alex had seemed to notice the meaning behind his choice of words, because a startled, pink flush had settled over his cheeks too: But then he had rolled his eyes, before Henry could think too much of it.

“Oh, whatever, Fox, I didn’t mean it like that,” he had called out, but Henry was already slamming the door to his apartment firmly shut. He had bought a mountain of air fresheners the next day, but had blushed so hard at checkout, that the cashier looked mildly alarmed for him.

The point is, that he and Alex do not get along. They barely interact more than they have to, and when push comes to shove and they’re forced to, it often ends in flames. Outside, the cicadas chirp a slow, soothing melody.

“I can’t stand him,” Henry mutters. “He’s so—”

“Arrogant, jerk-ish, annoying, assholey, loud, handsome, mouthy, uncouth,” Pez prattles off. “I know, you’ve said them all to me before. I made a list.”

“I never once said ‘handsome.’” Henry grits out.

“Please, Henry. He’s a mean American, alpha boy with dimples. You think he’s handsome. Objectively, there’s no way in hell anyone could call Alex Claremont-Diaz anything but handsome. He’s like the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome—”

“Okay!” Henry snaps. “We get it.”

“Oh, babes,” Pez tuts. “I know he puts you on edge. You’ll only have to share one flight together, and then for the rest of the wedding, you can stay within arm’s distance of one another. Alex can hang out with June, Bea will stay with Nora, and you can hang off my arm and look pretty beside me. Sounds good?”

“No,” Henry shakes his head before he realizes Pez can’t see it. “No, it’s alright, I’m just joking. We can manage. Don’t plan your wedding week around me and him. Besides, it won’t be that bad. The flight will probably be the worst part of the trip, but I’ll just plug in my earphones or something and dream about him falling out of the plane, in graphic poetic detail.”

Then, the rest of the wedding week should go without a hitch. Henry could just stick close to Pez for most of the week. Besides, having the buffer of all their friends present in one place does wonders for dampening the flames of his and Alex’s animosity. It’s the only reason why they haven’t murdered each other yet.

“That’s the spirit,” Pez cheers. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Five months later, the week before Henry’s best friend’s wedding, the worst thing that could happen happens.

Their layover flight gets canceled.

“You two are flying from California to New York in December,” the lady at the concierge desk says, pleasantly, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Bad weather is an expected evil, at times like this.”

Alex asks if they’re planning on giving their now flightless passengers any compensation, like a free or discounted hotel room, for all the troubles. The smile on the lady's face grows stiff.

She apologizes that the airline cannot do such a thing, but that she can direct them to the nearest hotels that are affordable enough to spend the night at. The next available flight should be in the morning, tomorrow. Alex mentions that their flightline policy on the website claims something about refunds for canceled flights, and her smile completely drops.

The lady pushes a list of hotels in their direction, states that nowhere did their flightline policy claim anything about refunds under any circumstances, and that she’s sure that Henry and Alex understand. Alex doesn’t seem to understand—even seem to get ready to argue about it—for some reason, but Henry drags him away before he gets the chance to open his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Alex snaps, shaking Henry off of him. Henry calls for an Uber for the closest hotel on the list. They make their way to the pickup section of the airport, shivering in the cold.

“Making sure that you don’t get us permanently banned from this airline and airport,” Henry hisses back, clicking off his phone when the app alerts him that a driver is coming to pick them up. “I would rather like it if we made it to the wedding on flight, and not through hitchhiking!”

“Oh, please,” Alex snorts. “Like you would ever hitchhike. Just call your butler and have him pick you up with your helicopter. Maybe make a pitstop at Starbucks for a light refreshment while you’re at it.”

“For the last time,” Henry says. “I don’t have a butler. Not all families that live comfortably in the UK have a butler, for crying out loud.”

“Live comfortably?” Alex barks. There’s snow dusting the top of his hair, making his ebony black curls seem even darker. “You’re richer than God.”

Henry’s face flames, despite the chill of the outside.

“Like you’re not well-off yourself?” He asks, but Alex’s mouth is doing that strange twisting thing that means that he’s satisfied with the outcomes of a fight. I.E. That he won the fight, in his eyes.

“You’re really equating your mountains of generational wealth to my immigrant dad and poor mother’s self-made money right now, Fox? I thought you minored in business in college, what were they teaching you in all your econ classes?”

Henry resists the urge to stamp his foot on the ground like a particularly moody toddler. It would just further cement that Alex was wrong and Henry was right, even though Henry didn’t know that they were playing this game of right-and-wrong in the first place.

He grabs the lapels of Alex’s coat and yanks him close instead, lip curling into a derisive snarl. It’s a move that seems to shock Alex, judging from how he lets himself be yanked around like a rag-doll—his limbs loose with surprise. Henry pushes against him, his temper rising by the second, and their noses brush.

Alex, the annoying little shit that he is, quickly recovers and grins.

“You—”

“Um,” another voice cuts in and they both whirl around, Henry stepping back from Alex and Alex stepping back from Henry. A man stands on the sidewalk, next to the propped open door of his car. He looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Uber for Henry Fox?”

Their ride to the hotel is silent, with Alex scrolling through his phone, looking irritated out of his mind and Henry staring out the window, trying not to seethe.

It’s a little difficult, with Alex sitting right beside him, the curve of his mouth somehow both smug and pissed. Every so often, the back of his hand accidentally brushes against Henry’s thigh, and Henry has to grit his teeth from doing something incredibly ungentlemanly, like knocking Alex’s teeth out. The driver, bless his heart, stays silent and focused on the road.

They arrive and Henry all but runs out of the car, Alex unfortunately following close behind. He needs to get away from the other man, far away, for the rest of the night. He needs to lock himself in a hotel room, take a hot shower, and go to sleep—to forget this nightmare is even happening.

He jolts as Alex nudges him aside to talk to the receptionist, their hips bumping and thighs brushing. Henry rubs at his eyes, feeling out of it.

He must be jetlagged. By three hours. That must be it.

“What do you mean?” Alex asks, his brows creased.

“We only have one room available, sir,” the receptionist says, apologetically. “It’s a queen-sized bed, all amenities attached.”

Henry fights the urge to slam his head into the counter.

“There had to be something else,” Alex says, getting out his phone. He glances at Henry.

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head. “I apologize for this inconvenience but all the rooms have been booked or are reserved.”

“I could go to another hotel,” Alex offers to Henry, that sardonic glint in his eye completely gone. Henry doesn’t know what to make of it. Was he serious or not? “You can stay here. Your call, I’m good either way.”

Henry glances at the window, at the snow and wind that’s only picked up since they’ve arrived.

“It seems dangerous to travel outside. You’ll die, unfortunately.”

“Aw,” Alex croons. “You do care.”

“I just don’t want June to find another man or maid of honor at such short notice,” Henry says, reluctantly. “Miss, is there a pullout couch in this room?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“There is an armchair,” she offers, a little helplessly.

A bloody armchair.

Henry might as well sleep in the tub, which he will, because no way in hell, is he sharing a bed with Alex. He stalls, rethinking his options. Granted, he isn’t necessarily worried about sharing a room with the other, who was a great upstanding citizen and man whenever he feels like it (which is not often in Henry’s presence). But…Henry’s skin prickles at the thought of being trapped in a room, in the same vicinity, with no barrier and no friends to buffer, on the same bed as Alex Claremont-Diaz.

It’s a thought strange enough to almost make his skin break out in hives.

Someone coughs behind Henry, loudly and impatiently—another person in line. Alex looks over the brochures on the receptionist’s desk, leisurely. In no hurry whatsoever.

“Hey,” the person hisses to Henry. Alex doesn’t even look back. “Can you hurry the fuck up? Other people still need to check in.”

Henry stiffens, his shoulders pulling up to his ears, but before he can make a run for it—or curl up into a ball and promptly die, the weight of a hand falls onto his, from where it’s resting on top of the counter. It’s a warm hand, with long fingers and a callused palm, and it’s bigger than Henry’s—able to span the length of his knuckles and joints easily. They make Henry’s hands look almost dainty, in comparison; alabaster skin under golden brown.

They look like they…fit.

Henry’s heart thuds, face flushing. Where had even gotten that thought from?

He glances back at Alex.

Alex grins at him, dark hair hanging in his eyes and his smile promising nothing but trouble. He squeezes Henry’s hand minutely and Henry fights to keep his gaze on Alex and not on Alex’s hand resting on top of his, oh-so-casually.

“Let’s think about this long and hard, Fox,” Alex says, conspiratorially and just loud enough for the man behind him to hear. “Like let’s really ponder this: Are you a snorer? Are we ready for this sort of commitment? What does it mean to share a room? Can we truly share something that isn’t ours? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of sharing and owning?”

The man makes an odd, choking noise and stomps away. Alex’s grin turns brighter.

“People are so scared of asking the real questions, these days,” he snarks, his thumb rubbing a circle on Henry’s knuckle. It’s distracting.

Henry should shove Alex away, he really should. He feels his mouth curl up into a ghost of a grin instead.

“Thank you.”

Alex looks at him and Henry looks back. There’s a flutter of something in his stomach before he and Alex promptly realize that their hands are still sort of…resting on each other’s. Henry’s face pinkens and Alex snatches his hand back so fast, that Henry wonders if he’s dislocated his wrist.

“Anything to stick it to the man,” Alex mumbles, the back of his neck red. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Henry chews at his bottom lip again.

“Excuse me,” they both look up to see the receptionist staring at them, her brows furrowed. “I don’t mean to…interrupt, but are you two still interested in the room? We’re sorry for the inconvenience and we can provide you will a room service meal tonight, free of charge, to express our apologies.”

Henry nods, minutely, dread building up in his stomach. He knows, objectively, that there is nothing else to be done. But, that doesn’t make anything easier.

“Well,” Alex shrugs, his hands still deep in his pockets. “That went better than the airport, at least.”

The room itself isn’t awful. It’s nice, all things considered, with a good view overlooking the scenery and a bed that looks comfortable enough. Alex shrugs off his jacket, surveying the room, thoughtfully.

“How are we going to do this?”

“Doing what?”

“Sleeping,” Alex says.

“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” Henry says.

“So,” Alex drawls. “Are you going to sleep in the armchair?”

The armchair is tiny. It looks like something that might (and it’s a big might) be able to hold a ten-year-old girl. It’s not fit for Henry’s 6-foot, polo-player frame, to say the least.

“I can sleep in the bathtub,” Henry says and Alex laughs. He laughs until he sees Henry’s deadpan expression, and then his laughter immediately peters off. The glee then morphs into sheer incredulity.

“Like hell, you’re sleeping in the bathtub. It’s cramped as hell.”

“Then, you can sleep in the tub?”

“Um,” Alex snorts. “No, that’s not going to happen.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Henry sighs, irritation building up in his stomach, heated to a low simmer.

Alex fiddles with his watch, which is admittedly one of the nicer things he’s wearing. He cares about his clothes to some extent, but Henry has seen Alex’s watch collection and it’s nothing to scoff at. Honestly, Henry’s a little surprised that Alex does like them so much, as he’s always the one complaining about the absolute environmental and economic hazards designer stores are, but…Everyone has their vices.

It’s a little attractive, Henry can admit, the way that Alex nudges his sleeve back to expose his wrist, the narrowing of his thick brows when he checks the time. Not that Henry’ll admit that to anyone out loud, ever.

“We can sleep in the same bed,” Alex suggests, though his voice is pained, like he’s suggesting they sleep in a snake pit.

“Absolutely not.”

“Or,” Alex says, dryly. “We can sleep on the moth-eaten floor together and pay the full price for the hotel room, with our fucked up backs.”

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to die here, he thinks, alone in a hotel room, sharing a bed with Alex Claremont-Diaz. He hopes Pez’s wedding won’t be too thrown off balance due to his and Alex’s untimely deaths.

“You look like you want to kill yourself,” Alex says. “Either that or kill me.”

“I’m thinking about a murder-suicide: What would be the most painful, excruciating way to go for the ‘murder’ aspect, and what would be the most painless way for the ‘suicide’ aspect,” Henry pauses, feeling a little like a trapped zoo animal clawing at the walls of its cage, desperate for a savior, only to be met with the face of an unwanted audience of one irritating lawyer with a shit-eating grin. A sense of hopelessness cloaks him, the feeling heavy and oppressive.

“Fine,” he mutters and Alex smiles that little victorious smile again.

“I’m not a spooner,” he says. “Stay on your own side of the bed.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Henry replies. “I would sooner die.”

“Anyone who’s ever once called you nice needs to pay me 5 bucks right now.”

They unpack as little as they can and divide the bed. Alex showers and Henry tries to read, ignoring the sound of the water running and Alex moving around in the bathroom. Tries to ignore the mental image of Alex, naked, moving around in the bathroom.

Henry’s eyes burn from where they’re staring at a page in the book.

“Good book?” Alex tries, when he steps out. There’s a towel draped around his hips, low and tantalizing. A bead of water trickles down his chest and down his abdomen. Henry clenches his thighs together and tries not to lob the book at the other’s face.

“Fascinating,” Henry croaks.

“You’re reading it upside down.”

“I’m practicing my reading comprehension skills. I would suggest you try it, but you don’t have either skill in the first place.”

“Burn,” Alex snickers and sashays off.

Henry showers next, quick and fast, and tries not to make eye contact with Alex as he slinks out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet and his towel draped around his hips. Alex, thankfully, seems distracted enough—though Henry isn’t sure by what. Maybe he had been reading.

Dinner and the rest of the night pass by in a slow, snail’s pace crawl, but they manage it. There’s even a tentative, unspoken peace drawn and they manage to keep their butting heads to a minimum. All is well.

And of course, because they’re Alex and Henry, it all comes crashing down in a matter of moments.

It starts again when they’re trying to sleep.

They lay on their respective sides of the bed, with Henry perched so close to the edge of the bed that his ass is half falling off. Alex looks over at him, his curls mashed against the pillows, the lines of his face softer under the moonlight. He looks different from what Henry’s used to—that overwhelming fire and sardonic humor dampened to something more gentle. Like the average person could reach out and touch Alex right now, without being burnt to a crisp.

Henry’s stomach twists and twists itself into knots.

“What are you doing?” Alex rasps.

“Sleeping,” Henry says, shortly.

“You’re falling off the bed,”

“I always sleep like this,” Henry lies. “It’s relaxing.”

“Your muscles are so tense, you’re making my neck ache,” Alex drawls. He reaches out and Henry stiffens further, solidifying into rock. Alex’s hand carefully wraps around his wrist, his touch light and easy enough to brush off, if only Henry wanted to.

Henry wants to, so badly that it aches. But before he can peel Alex’s fingers off of him, Alex yanks him back onto the bed and Henry is suddenly, terrifyingly, and dangerously close to the other. Alex’s chest is mere inches away from Henry’s back and Henry can feel the warmth of his body, the sway of his breath.

Henry grits his teeth.

“Sides of the bed,” he reminds Alex through clenched teeth. “Thought we divided them for a reason, Alexander.”

“You’re still on your side,” Alex murmurs, his voice sending shivers down Henry’s spine. “I didn’t forget, princess.”

Alex lets go of Henry’s wrist, but he’s still too close. Henry’s hair stands on end and he forces himself to let out a shaky exhale. He may have known Alex for years, due to being in the same friend group, but every interaction with him makes Henry’s nerves feel like they’ve been rubbed raw. There’s no familiarity between them, no love lost.

“You know,” Alex murmurs, after a beat. “We did this once, right?”

“Did what?” Henry breathes out.

“Slept in the same bed,” Alex reminds him. “It was after one of Pez’s ragers—junior year. Everyone but Bea was too trashed to head back home so I called dibs on his bed, Nora and June slept on the couch, Pez was…somewhere. Maybe sleeping on the table. And you waltzed in and basically passed out on top of me, snoring away like you weren’t crushing me alive.”

Henry blinks.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t,” Alex snorts. “You were hammered, even more so than the rest of us.”

Dread settles in Henry’s stomach.

“Was that night where—” he says and he can feel Alex nod imperceptibly behind him, the scratch of his curls brushing against the fabric of the pillow.

“Where you made out with three different guys and slept with your dipshit ex?” Alex finishes for him. “Yeah.”

Henry gnaws on his lip.

The night had been a hazy one for sure, with Henry fresh out of a breakup and Alex as annoying as ever. He had had one too many drinks and had proceeded to do exactly as Alex said: Shoving his tongue down three faceless men’s throats; then after spotting his ex-boyfriend standing at the doorway, sleeping with the arsehole who had broken his heart. It hadn’t been the smartest of moves and it’s not exactly a memory that Henry looks back with fondness.

He had always thought it was a small blessing that he couldn’t remember most of it clearly.

Apparently, he had been missing a crucial piece of the night entirely.

“Did we—” Henry starts and Alex blanches behind him.

“Uh, no?” he says, so scathingly, that Henry’s cheeks burn.

“Okay.”

He stiffens his upper lip and closes his eyes, trying to tamp down the waves of humiliation. It had been stupid to ask, of course, Alex and he wouldn’t have fucked. They could barely stand each other, could barely make it through one conversation without insulting the living daylights out of each other—

“I wouldn’t sleep with someone who’s too drunk to remember what’s happening, much less give consent,” Alex continues. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

An eternal thorn in my side, Henry does not say.

“Your ex was such a fucking dick,” Alex says. Henry’s hackles rise at his tone—something not quite condescending, but close enough to be grating on the nerves. “What is it with you and asshole alphas? You could have anyone else in the world, yet you choose to date knotheads who can’t give two shits about you.”

“I don’t remember ever asking for your opinion on the matter.”

“I mean,” Alex is still talking. “One of them forgot your birthday, another cheated on you with his tutor that you set up, and the one in our sophomore year literally stole a hundred bucks from you to buy pot. The sex couldn’t have been that good. What made you go back for more, every time?”

Henry exhales, his temper flaring.

“I’m leaving,” Henry snaps. He pushes himself off the bed, standing, and Alex looks up at him.

“Where?” the other’s voice is dry. “There’s no other rooms available, Henry.”

“I’ll sleep in the damn lobby, if that’ll keep me away from you.”

Alex sits up, resting his weight on his arms. “What have I said that isn’t true?” he asks, low and heated. “You fuck useless, alpha pieces of shit, Henry. I tell the truth how I see it.”

“And you—” Henry whirls around, eyes blazing. “You’re an arse.”

Alex stands.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks.

“You’re incorrigible, annoying, irritating—” he starts, lowly, and Alex steps closer, his eyes bright and angry. The smell of cardamom and violets grows stronger; Henry’s head pounds.

“Yeah?” He asks, and the tips of their toes brush. “Tell me what else I am, Fox.”

Henry tilts his chin up and stares at Alex, who just looks back, his stupidly symmetrical face unchanging and unmoving. He even smirks at Henry, like he’s goading him.

Do it, his expression seems to drawl. Say what you really think.

Henry Fox never says what he thinks.

He says “Hello, how are you?” when he really wants to say “Piss off,” he says “That’s lovely,” when he really means to say “That’s truly horrendous,” or “Agree to disagree I suppose,” when he really means to scream “go fuck a cactus, you bigoted twat.” His grandmother raised him to be the best of gentlemen, and only the best of gentlemen knew when to keep his mouth shut. Alex, with all his rude words and blunt statements cutting like knives, is decidedly not a gentleman.

Henry doesn’t feel like a gentleman around Alex.

“C’mon,” Alex’s sharp, cruel mouth taunts. “Don’t clam up now, sweetheart.”

Henry sighs and meets Alex’s gaze head-on, with an air of calm he doesn’t quite feel right now.

“You want to know what I think?” He asks.

“That’s why I asked,” Alex says. “Quit stalling and just spit it out.”

“Okay,” Henry says. “You love to make things so difficult for me, you stick your nose into my business. You love to cause problems, not for the sake of solving them, but just to be a smartarse and to prove that you’re better than me, and everyone else on the planet, for that matter,” Henry continues, coolly. “It’s getting tiring—you thinking this way. Is your ego that small that you have to compensate for it every five seconds?”

Henry takes a long, slow look down Alex’s body, pointed.

“Or are you compensating for something else, love?” He asks, as dry as ever. “Just a thought.”

Alex tilts his head, and the pure irritation and hatred on his face is something to behold. Henry has never made an expression like that come out of anyone. He’s perfect, placid Henry Fox. Henry, who smiles mildly and never causes problems with anyone or anything. Even his breakups end somewhat amicably, with Henry just nodding along as his ex-partners either leave without a word or beg him to stay.

Henry Fox, who can make the most witty, smug man on this side of California, boil over with rage.

It’s a dichotomy. It’s utterly exhilarating.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Alex says, and his smile is amused, even when his eyes are narrowed in annoyance. “I’m not compensating for everything.”

Henry waves his hand, dismissive. Bored.

“Oh,” he smiles back at Alex, saccharine sweet. “I understand perfectly.”

“Do you?” Alex hums. “Are you sure?”

He leans in a little closer and Henry freezes, for half a second, before he forces his muscles to loosen up. Alex is so close to him now, that Henry can count every irritatingly low eyelash lining both his eyelids and the bottom of his eyes.

“Playing judge, jury, and executioner, are we?” Alex tsks, even though he’s just as guilty for doing that with Henry, A multitude of times. “You didn’t even let me defend myself or prove you wrong before you jumped to making your assumptions about me. This wouldn’t hold in any court of law, you do know that, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Henry drawls, titling his head a little further back so he and Alex can meet eye to eye. “I didn’t know we were playing lawyer, Alexander. How silly of me. And here I thought that we were having a normal conversation like mature adults.”

Alex smirks. “Having a ‘normal conversation like mature adults’ means that you probably shouldn’t be hurling false insults at me, on no grounds or basis.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “And what, pray tell, was I wrong about? How you think that you’re better than everyone else, like some arrogant twat? Your tiny ego?”

“Well, all that too,” Alex nods, thoughtfully. “But mostly, you were wrong about my dick.”

Henry blanches, not expecting such crude words to spill out of Alex’s mouth. His stomach clenches. Alex’s shit-eating grin only grins wider and more shit-eating in nature, and he reaches up, brushing a lock of Henry’s hair behind his ear. The feeling of twisting and squirming in Henry’s stomach only worsens by the second.

“Still,” Alex hums, “Maybe I can imagine why you might get the wrong impression. I am very difficult to nail down. An enigma, if you will. A mystery.”

“I might barf on you,” Henry deadpans. Alex grins and rests his hand under Henry’s chin—long, long fingers grasping at his jaw. He squeezes a little too tightly and Henry bites back a gasp, electricity skating down his spine.

“Real cute, Fox.”

Alex wrenches Henry’s gaze back upward. The pad of his thumb, rough from years of playing lacrosse, brushes against Henry’s cheekbone—the coarseness sending shivers down Henry’s spine.

“I can prove it to you, if you want,” Alex offers. Henry blinks. The other leans closer, his shoulders bracketing Henry’s and his breath hot against the freezing skin of Henry’s ear. The scent of cardamom and violets grows so thick, that Henry’s nearly light-headed from it. “How wrong you are.”

He shivers, grabbing onto Alex’s shirt, feeling the thin material bunch up in his fists. “I,” he starts. “I don’t want you to prove anything to me,” he lies, through the flush on his cheeks, the pounding of his heart.

“Liar,” Alex bares his teeth back down at Henry, his canine sharp enough to bleed on. “I can smell how turned on you are, baby.”

Much to Henry’s humiliation, he whimpers, fingers digging into the fabric of Alex’s shirt, hard enough to tear through. To his utter horror, Henry’s fucking wet.

“I bet you’re so wet for me, sweetheart,” Alex coos into his ear, like he’s reading Henry’s mind. “Bet if I reached into your pants, you’d be fucking soaking through your underwear.”

“I—” Henry stammers, his eyes wide and his blood rushing south. Slick smears against his thighs and his cunt clenches around nothing, achingly empty. “You—”

“What,” Alex asks, rubbing Henry’s cheekbone in that same maddening pattern that makes another rush of slick drip from between Henry’s legs. He gasps, despite himself, trying not to imagine that same, rough thumb touching, stroking something else in that way. His thighs clench together. “Don’t tell me you never thought about this before.”

What.

Alex thought about…them?

“No,” Henry chokes out. It feels like a lie, even though it isn’t. “I really haven’t.”

Alex hums, not looking that put out.

“Well, I have,” he says and Henry looks back up at him, surprise creeping in through the unwarranted heat curling in his belly. “A lot of times,” Alex adds on, only further exacerbating the surprise in Henry. “Want me to tell you what I thought about?”

Henry blinks.

“How many times?” he asks, the words spilling free from his lips despite himself.

“How many times what?” Alex asks, still staring down Henry, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“How many times have you thought about me like…this?” Henry asks.

“Does it matter?” Alex’s hands have found Henry’s waist now, his fingers tracing small circles on the skin through the shirt. Henry shivers pleasantly.

“Yes,” he says.

“Five times—all of which ended with you crying, split open by my cock,” Alex admits, after a pause. Henry reaches up and cards his fingers through those curls, yanking Alex’s head down none too gently. Alex’s pupils—wide and blown out with lust—stare back at him. “Six, now.”

“You want me,” Henry says, and he means for it to come out triumphant. Alex Claremont-Diaz who was always smirking, always sniping about Henry’s shitty exes, secretly wanted to be in their shoes. He wanted to fuck Henry. Instead, the words come out breathy, all wrong.

“And you want me,” Alex says.

Henry thinks of denying it, but he can’t deny how desperate his body feels. How every neuron in him is lighting up, how much he’s leaning into Alex’s touch. It would be utterly humiliating if it weren’t for the fact that Alex seemed to be going through the exact same thing.

Their chests rise and fall in an uneven beat. Alex’s scent is thick and aroused, and Henry nearly drowns alive in it. Cardamom and violets: Alexander Bloody Claremont-Diaz.

“I don’t want you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Alexander,” Henry breathes out, his breath ghosting over Alex’s lips. “I just want to feel good.”

“Perfect,” Alex grins. “I want the exact same thing, Fox.”

Their mouths crush together in a violent, almost vicious clash. Henry rakes his nails down Alex’s back, harsh and unforgiving, and Alex sucks on his tongue for it, teeth nipping at Henry’s bottom lip. Of course, Alex is a good kisser, Henry thinks, blearily, their mouths sliding together in a discordant rhythm, drool dripping down Henry’s chin despite himself. Of course, he’s good at this.

Alex pushes him onto the bed and hovers over him, his eyes dark and wild.

“I’ll make you feel good, baby,” he promises. And for some reason, Henry desperately believes him.

Alex approaches sex the way he does everything else—with a teasing, infuriating air that makes Henry want to scream.

He has Henry on his back—legs balanced on Alex’s shoulders, fingers twisting in the bedsheets—and is currently staring at Henry’s cunt like it holds the secrets of the universe. Henry’s not sexually shy—he knows what he wants and knows how to get it. But he’s never had anyone look at him like that, their gaze hungry and so appreciative. Like Henry was a meal waiting to be devoured.

Heat rises in his cheeks and he resists the urge to shut his legs, just to stop Alex from staring.

“Alexander,” he mutters. “Get on with it.”

“What’s the magic word?” Alex shoots back, though he reaches out and traces his thumb against Henry’s slick folds. Henry shudders—his hole clenching on nothing, more slick spilling out and staining his thighs. “Jesus, you’re so wet. Are you in heat or something?”

“It’s alarming that you think omegas can only get wet in heat. I feel quite bad for all your exes,” Henry shoots back. “Couldn’t turn them on?”

“So you admit I’m turning you on?” Alex asks and Henry thinks about smothering him with a pillow. It’s a nice thought while it lasts. Then, Alex starts kissing Henry’s stomach, his stubble scraping over Henry’s navel and all thoughts about suffocating Alex to death disappear.

“You’re gorgeous,” Alex murmurs against his skin, his teeth digging into the soft skin of Henry’s belly. “So pretty.”

He sinks a finger into Henry and Henry jerks at the foreign intrusion, his mouth falling open in a quiet whimper. Alex groans, his eyelashes fluttering obscenely.

“Shit,” he pants. “You’re tight. That’s k-kinda surprising.”

“Calling me a slag?” Henry asks, though the usual bite from his voice is gone.

“Would I be wrong?” Alex asks, amused, and Henry rolls his eyes.

“More,” he demands, shifting his hips upwards. “I want more.”

“Before we continue, I just wanted to let you know that I use the stoplight system,” Alex traces his tongue over Henry’s abs, teasing. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down—”

“Green for keep going,” Henry cuts in. “I know. I do too.”

“Look at that, princess,” Alex croons, slowly curling his finger inside Henry. Henry’s toes curl. “We have so much in common.”

“Put your fingers in me before I put an end to this, Alexander.”

Surprisingly, Alex doesn’t argue further and only sinks two more fingers inside Henry. He fingers Henry open with a sort of gentleness that would have Henry raising an eyebrow, if he wasn’t so distracted by—well, how full he is. Alex’s fingers are so bloody long, longer than Henry’s even, reaching deep inside Henry like he wants to be buried there.

Then, his index finger brushes against something that has Henry shivering, his hands flying out to grasp at Alex’s wrist—to keep it in place, to keep his finger there.

“What?” Alex asks, his voice lilting. “Want to hold hands?”

He grabs Henry’s hands and wraps his fingers around Henry’s wrists, keeping them bound together. Henry whimpers, fingers twitching. Alex’s hold on him is lazy, but somehow, in the back of Henry’s mind, he knows better than to try to pull away.

“Alex,” he stutters through clenched teeth. “You bloody—”

Alex laughs.

“Look down, Fox,” he croons, low.

Henry squeezes his eyes shut, but another jab of Alex’s fingers inside of him and a sudden slap on his ass forces them back open. He pretends he doesn’t tremble at the feeling of rough palms against his red, raw skin but he knows Alex feels it, judging from the chuckle that the other lets out.

“C’mon,” Alex coaxes, voice practically oozing with honey. “Look down.”

Henry looks down.

The sight is so lewd, that it sends his face flushing.

His cunt is stretched wide over Alex’s three fingers and the other man lazily circles Henry’s stiff clit with his thumb. Alex’s entire forearm is practically glistening with Henry’s slick, Henry realizes with a rush of heat. Henry’s eyes flick back up to Alex and the other man bares his teeth at him in a smirk.

“So, you’ve been keeping this pretty pussy from me all this time, huh?”

Henry groans and tries to kick him away to no avail.

“Sod off,” he says, despite another flash of heat curling in his gut.

“Fuck me,” Alex laughs. “You just clenched around me, Fox. Do you like watching yourself that much? Look at you creaming all over my fingers.”

Christ, Henry flushes, cunt fluttering, slick pouring out of him like a damn faucet. Alex and his obscene fucking mouth.

“So tight, like a goddamn vice. It’s like you want to snap my fingers off, sweetheart.”

Henry clenches, just to make a point, and is met with the soft sound of Alex’s moan. “How’d you know?” he pants, forcing his own needy noise back.

“Yeah? So, you’re saying you want to keep me inside of you forever? Stretching you wide open, and watching as you swallow my fingers like a greedy slut?” Alex presses a kiss right below Henry’s belly button. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I-It must be nice to be so delusional,” Henry says.

“Sure, keep denying it,” Alex huffs out. His mouth has made its journey down to Henry’s clit, and he laps at it, circling his tongue in a way that has Henry’s thighs trembling. Henry chokes on a moan. “I can feel how much you’re tightening around me.”

He fucks his fingers in harder, faster, at a steadily growing rate. At the same time, his teeth and tongue continue to all but bully Henry’s clit, each nip and soothing lick making a cacophony of noises spill from Henry’s mouth—unbridled and nearly animalistic in nature. Eventually, the sound of Alex’s fingers, tongue, combined with Henry’s slick grows louder and louder, until Henry starts straining against Alex’s hold on his wrists—his fingers twitching.

Alex holds him through it, firm and unrelenting.

“I-I,” Henry moans. “I’m, ah, gonna cum—”

“Then, cum,” Alex coaxes, his lips now ghosting over Henry’s aching clit. His fingers are still all but jackhammering into Henry, the pace sending Henry’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Cum all over my fingers, like a good boy, baby.”

Henry does, with a barely muffled shout of pleasure. Alex fingers him through it, Henry clenching and unclenching around his thick, long fingers—as slick dribbles from his cunt and drool slides down his chin. After a minute or two, the spasms die down and his vision clears, his orgasm finally petering out.

“Yellow,” Henry scrabbles at Alex’s wrist and Alex takes it as a sign to let go—his hand falling away from Henry’s and his fingers sliding out of Henry with a particularly obscene noise. Henry tries not to feel too empty afterward, but he can feel himself fluttering around nothing, a part of desperation to keep Alex in him, even through the overstimulation.

“That’s it,” Alex grins at him, and somehow, he looks even more smug with Henry’s slick smeared across his lips like lipgloss. “Looks like someone came pretty hard.”

“Eh,” Henry mutters, staring at Alex’s lips, transfixed.

“Eh?” Alex grumbles, his brows furrowed. “The fuck do you mean ‘eh?’”

Henry leans forward, taking Alex’s hand—dripping in Henry’s slick and cum—and wraps his lips around the tip of Alex’s thumb. His own slick tastes sweet on his tongue, but Henry can only really register how wide Alex’s eyes are and the pink flush settling over the cut of his cheekbones. From the corner of his eye, he can also make out the considerable bulge in Alex’s pants.

Henry’s mouth waters.

“It means,” Henry mumbles, from around Alex’s thumb. “You could do better.”

Alex stares at him for a moment, the scent of cardamom and violets growing thicker by the seconds. Then, he presses his thumb deeper into Henry’s mouth, digging his fingers against Henry’s hard jaw. Henry looks back at him, challenging.

“If you want my cock in your needy little cunt,” Alex murmurs, their noses brushing. “You can just say so, Henry.”

Henry slides off of Alex’s thumb, though he doesn’t quite pull away from the other’s grasp. “If you want your cock in my cunt,” he says. “You can beg for it, Alexander.”

Alex raises his eyebrows at Henry’s demands. He opens his mouth, as if to argue against it, and Henry prepares for an onslaught of rebuttals and refusals. He tilts his head to the side, waiting.

Their eyes stay fixed on each other, a strange staring competition that Henry knows he won’t lose. Sure enough, after a beat, Alex’s smile returns, at full-blinding force.

“Anyone ever tell you how annoyingly hot you are?” he groans and leans in, crushing their mouths back together. He licks against the seam of Henry’s lips, teasing for entry, but Henry only stares at Alex, his lips shut and eyes hooded.

“Beg for it,” Henry murmurs, in between the onslaught of kisses. “Ask me nicely, and you can have it.”

Alex grumbles. “I never beg,” he mutters, his lips pressed against Henry’s jaw. So difficult, even with his body intertwined with Henry’s.

Henry tugs on his curls harshly, and Alex lets out a muffled groan, burying his face into the side of Henry’s neck. “You will for me,” he says. “Come on, alpha,” he purrs into Alex’s ear. “You want to fuck me until I’m crying, begging you for more—to fill me up until I’m dripping with your cum?”

He reaches down and presses his hand to the bulge in Alex’s pants, causing the other to whimper. Christ, Henry licks his lips. Alex is big. Even through the thin material of his pajama pants, Henry can feel it—how thick he is, how good he’ll feel inside of Henry.

His stomach jolts.

Alex lets out a stuttered gasp, his own hand tightening on Henry’s jaw.

“Yes,” he moans, his hips jerking into Henry’s hand. Henry grins. “I want it so bad, baby.”

“Then, beg.”

There’s a minute of long, annoyed silence, pulled taut by Alex’s stubbornness and Henry’s smugness, but eventually, Alex says, his voice just shy of wrecked: “Please,” he rasps, teeth digging into Henry’s pulse point, right above his mating gland. “Please, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

“Good boy,” Henry kisses him, swallowing Alex’s moans. “Okay, fuck me. You’ve been imagining it long enough, haven’t you? Let’s see how your fantasies hold up to the real thing, Alexander.”

He gasps as Alex’s hand finds its way down his stomach, his fingers dangerously close to Henry’s core.

“So far,” Alex’s words are as sincere as Henry has ever heard them. “They don’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

Thankfully, Alex has a condom in his wallet.

Henry almost wants to make an off-handed jab at how Alex is the type of alpha to carry condoms around with him wherever he goes, like he’s just expecting to get laid at any moment. He resigns against it because 1) he’s a mature adult and 2) watching Alex roll the condom on his achingly hard cock—standing at proud attention and flushed an angry shade of red—is enough to make his mouth dry.

“Don’t knot me,” Henry warns, resting on on his forearms and looking up at Alex.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Alex shoots back.

He hitches Henry’s thighs around his hips, his hands coarse and warm against Henry’s skin. His cock slides alongside Henry’s slick cunt, brushing against his clit. Henry shivers, digging his teeth in his bottom lip.

Alex does it again, the head of his cock nudging against Henry’s clit in a way that makes slick dribble from Henry. He can’t believe how riled up he is by Alex, so riled up that a bloody pussy job is making him this close to blowing his load.

Alex hasn’t even gotten inside him yet.

“Get in me,” Henry says and Alex smirks down at him.

“Aye, aye,” he mock-salutes, and Henry can’t fathom why he’s letting this man put his dick anywhere near him, no matter how big and gorgeous it is. He’s just about to demand that Alex move again, when Alex sinks all the way in—in a smooth, uninterrupted motion.

“Hngh!”

Stars explode behind Henry’s eyes. He hadn’t registered how sensitive his body was from his previous orgasm, too distracted by the lust and heat rushing down his veins at the touch, sound, and sight of Alex. But now, with Alex fully sheathed inside of him—his cock thick and so bloody big that Henry can nearly feel it in his throat—he’s suddenly well reminded. His oversenstive cunt spasms around the intrusion, and Henry mewls.

He’s still so wet, slick and cum everywhere. He wonders what he looks like to Alex—probably like any other desperate and wanton omega falling apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes out. His hands are wrapped around Henry’s waist, his thumbs nearly touching at the center of Henry’s stomach. “You f-feel—”

“Better than the other, ngh, omegas you fucked?” Henry asks, and the taunt comes out more vulnerable than he expected. More hesitant. It’s strange.

“I’ve never felt this before, with any other omega, with anyone else,” Alex groans, his eyes threatening to roll backwards. “Baby, you feel like heaven.”

For some odd reason, Henry’s chest warms. Alex fucks him, hard and fast, and Henry takes it—eyes rolling back, mouth falling open in pleasure. After a few meager minutes, he feels that familiar build up of another orgasm rising in the horizon.

“Choke me,” Henry blurts out, wrapping his arms around Alex’s neck and drawing him close. Alex stills, hips stuttering into Henry. “Fucking choke me.”

Alex’s breath ghosts over his ear. “Are you sure?”

Henry nods. “If I tap t-two times, stop,” he says, and slots Alex’s hand over his throat.

Alex gives him an assessing look, his gaze hooded with lust, before he finally presses down. Not hard to restrict Henry’s airflow, but enough that there’s a warning there: A warning that Alex has all the power in his hands, that he could rob Henry of his breath with one smooth gesture, with his cock deep inside of Henry’s cunt, and Henry would only be able to take it.

It only takes Alex squeezing down once, accompanied with a sharp thrust of his hips, and Henry’s cumming. He hurtles towards the edge, with a breathless laugh, hips twitching. When he comes to, Alex is watching him, his expression almost…awed. His hand moves from Henry’s throat, to cup the side of Henry’s face, tilting it close to Alex’s—like he’s going to kiss Henry.

Like he’s studying Henry.

Henry opens his mouth to ask him what he’s looking at, but he’s distracted by Alex’s cock slamming into him, so deep and hard, Henry can’t help but moan. Alex had been fucking him through his orgasm, not once slowing down or stopping. Alex was a bloody menace and, Christ, Henry has never felt so good in his life.

Soon, the pleasure grows into something bigger, something that causes alarm bells to ring in Henry’s fucked-out brain. He tries to squirm away to get some reprieve, but Alex doesn’t budge. Instead, he jackhammers in, his stupidly large cock slamming into a spot in Henry that makes his toes curl.

“Wait—!” Henry cries, tearing his mouth away, feeling his muscles tense. Oh no, oh no, oh no. But he already came two times, he’s never cum three times in one setting ever. He doesn’t even know if his body can handle three consecutive orgasms. “Wait, wait, fuck, Alexander, I’m gonna—”

“Gonna what?” Alex asks, barely seeming out of breath. “Use your words.”

“Hngh!”

Alex laughs breezily, the sound like bells chiming in the wind. “Those aren’t words, but your moans are really cute, sweetheart,” he says, though he’s slowing down somewhat, adhering to Henry’s pleas. “Color?”

“Green,” Henry wails and, without pause, Alex resumes the rough, fast rhythm, hard enough to send Henry’s teeth clacking. He scratches at Alex, sinks his nails into the muscle cording his back. He needs Alex to slow down, he needs Alex to keep pounding into him until he can’t think anymore, he needs—

Then, Alex finally, finally rubs a coarse thumb on his clit, harsh and unforgiving, and Henry loses it.

“Ah–!”

His back arches off the bed and he squirts, clear fluid spraying out and soaking the mattress, their skin, everything. He shouts, eyes rolling back, and he can barely make out Alex's startled groan of surprise—but he can’t stop. It’s so good. He’s losing his bloody mind.

Alex keeps thrusting into him, impossibly, his cock pounding into Henry even while he’s squirting all over them, his pussy spasming violently. The overstimulation is enough to make lighting shoot down Henry’s spine and he squeals. It’s too much. Pushing Alex away with all the force that he can muster, Henry curls into himself, his hands slapped over his cunt—protecting it from Alex Bloody Claremont-Diaz’s mind-numbingly perfect hands, tongue, and cock.

If Alex touches him again, makes him cum again, Henry might fall apart at the seams. He already feels like he’s falling apart at the seams.

It feels like forever until Henry stops shaking, twitching through the orgasm, but when it happens, shame is quick to follow. He curls into himself, face hot, and still so turned on, his core aches with need. Oh God, he just…squirted all over Alex and their bed.

Alex must think he’s dirty, must think he’s disgusting—

“Hey,” Alex murmurs in his ear. A hand in Henry’s hair cards through the strands in a slow, soothing pattern, “Fuck, baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Henry whimpers.

“I’ve never,” he manages. “I’ve never—”

“Squirted?” Alex finishes for him. When Henry nods, he inhales, sharply.

“Fox,” Alex says, after a beat, his voice choked. “How are you real? You’re insane, God, all your ex boyfriends are actually the stupidest pieces of shit alive, what the fuck—”

Henry peers back at him, the shame ebbing away at how flushed Alex is, how earnest the lines of his face are. Gone are his little smirks and teasing eyes, instead replaced with Alex who…In all honesty, looks like he’s going to pop a knot right then and there.

Oh.

“You don’t mind?” Henry asks, tentatively.

“Mind?” Alex groans, cupping Henry’s face and letting their foreheads brush together. “One day, you need to ride my face and fucking waterboard me with your slick and cum. I’ll die if you don’t let me. I’ll do anything, Fox.”

Henry blinks, a laugh ballooning in his chest.

“Very funny,” he says, kissing Alex on the mouth. Tentatively, he wraps his legs around Alex’s waist again, drawing the other in closer. Alex goes, without complaint or right. His cock slides against Henry’s slick folds, causing them to both shiver.

“I’m not kidding,” Alex whispers back, and kisses Henry silent.

Despite Alex emphasizing that he would be fine if they ended the night then and there, Henry guides his cock back into him, chanting “Green, green, green,” with a little too much fervor. He thinks he might be a little addicted to the feeling of Alex inside of him.

Alex fucks him gently at first, then at an almost punishing rate when Henry all but scratches his back bloody and begs him to go harder.

“Alexander,” Henry groans, feeling his mouth hanging open and tongue peeking out from his lips. “Ah, right there, right there. Hnngh, if you k-keep hitting there, I’ll—!”

“What?” Alex asks, a vision above Henry, with his damp hair falling into his eyes and his jaw clenched. “You’re gonna squirt everywhere again? Gonna make a mess out of yourself again?”

He slaps Henry’s ass teasingly and Henry tenses again.

“No,” he stutters. “No, I—”

“It’s okay if you do,” Alex’s voice is a low purr, as amused as always. “I won’t laugh at you, baby.” Henry blinks up at the other man through blurry eyes. The fact that he was this calm and collected while Henry was falling apart on his cock was a little insulting.

“You’re a bad liar for a l-lawyer,” Henry grits out.

Alex’s eyes watch him for a beat, dangerously dark in the shadows. Henry’s breath catches in his throat, despite everything. For a brief second, the other’s usual, sardonic smile seems a little…subdued. Softer. Sweeter.

Henry’s heart thuds, a beat too hard, at the sight.

He’s never seen this expression on Alex’s face. Though that usual smirk is quick to return, that soft, fleeting look causes something in Henry to pause, to swallow a lump rising in his throat.

Then, Alex digs his nails into Henry’s hips and that strange lump dissipates. He chokes on a moan as Alex thrusts his hips again, slow and deep. With each languid roll of his hips, his cock seems to fill Henry up more and more.

“Ngh–!”

Henry whimpers as Alex’s cock slides against his oversensitive walls, the sting both pleasant and too much, all at once. “Ah, love, it feels,” he manages. “It feels weird—”

“Hm?” Alex noses at his neck. “What feels weird?”

“M-my stomach,” Henry slurs. ”My stomach feels weird.”

He reaches one hand down to feel his abdomen, fingertips brushing abs and smooth skin Then, his palm brushes against an unfamiliar bump in his stomach…and all of a sudden, electricity shoots down his spine and he can’t fucking breathe.

What the hell?

“Well, look at that,” Alex sounds delighted. Before Henry can ask, Alex releases one hand from its vice-like grip on his hip and places it on Henry’s own hand, laid flat on his stomach and on the strange bump.

“What…?”

Alex presses his hand down on the bulge and a bloody yowl tears itself free from Henry’s lips. Slick pours from his hole in rivulets, soaking Alex’s cock and their bedsheets. Spots dance in his vision, gaze turning blurry.

Christ, that feels—

“Hah,” From the haze clouding his eyes, he can barely make out the slope of Alex’s eyebrows and the curve of his grin. “Hey, can you feel me moving inside you, omega?

That bump…It was Alex’s cock driving into his stomach, rearranging his guts? Henry clenches, suddenly so wet that he can hear the squelch of Alex driving deeper and deeper into him.

“How do you feel?” Alex asks, conversationally. “You just got so wet right now. So slick.”

When Henry doesn’t respond, the other reaches down his free hand to pinch Henry’s clit. The maddening pleasurepainpleasure from the sudden pinch is almost enough to send Henry hurtling towards the edge. He grits his teeth, barely managing to stave off his impending orgasm.

“How deep am I inside of you?” Alex smirks down at him. “C’mon, Fox, answer the question.”

Henry purses his lips, trying to keep his moans and cries from slipping free

But then, Alex pushes in deeper and pushes their joined hands down onto that godforsaken bulge in Henry's belly, and Henry suddenly can’t stop himself from losing it.

“S-so deep,” He hears himself moan, like a bitch in heat. Was he in heat? It was a little hard to tell at this point, he’s never felt so good before—even at the peak of heat, with all the best sex toys available to him. “Alexander, you’re too deep!”

Alex’s smile grows.

“Oh,” he coos, somehow grinding his dick harder into Henry. “It’s too deep? But you wanted it deep and rough, baby.” Henry scrabbles for air, trying to find purchase on Alex so he can slow the other man down.

“Wait, yellow,” Henry begs, his hands eventually finding Alex’s hips. His fingers dig into the other man’s skin hard enough to bleed. “D-Do it more gently, slowly.”

His core throbs in such a strangely pleasant way, he thinks he might burst. Alex kisses him on the cheek, this time gentle and sweet.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I can go slow for you.”

His next thrusts are much more shallow and languid. Henry exhales, trying to gain a semblance of control back into his muddled brain. This was fine, this rhythm was fine, it was nothing like the insane, intense way Alex was fucking him before.

Everything was fine.

Alex’s cock brushes against that spot inside Henry and he shivers.

His hips reflexively twitch, chasing after the feeling, but Alex withdraws all too fast. He resumes his shallow, slow fucking and Henry is left dizzy, aching for the feeling he was deprived of.

It goes on like this for a few long minutes, Alex purposely avoiding that spot and Henry increasingly losing his mind, wanting him to pound into it. After one particularly close call, when Alex had been so close, that Henry’s toes had curled with anticipation, and his resolve finally snaps.

He wraps his legs around Alex’s waist and wiggles his own hips, trying to pull Alex closer and deeper into him. But the other doesn’t so much as move.

“Hey,” Alex starts.

Henry grits his teeth and ignores him. He moves his hips slightly down and the head of Alex’s cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of him, with slightly more pressure than before. Shivers break out over his skin, pleasure drenching him in sweat.

“Fox—”

Henry ignores Alex again and fucks himself onto his cock, harder this time because Alex seems to be becoming a little less like stone and a little easier to move around as Henry pleases. This time, Alex’s cock hits that spot perfectly, and his stomach brushes against Henry’s needy clit perfectly, and Henry can’t help but let a moan slip free from his throat.

“Ah!”

He keeps going like this until he feels a familiar pressure building up in his stomach. Shit. He should stop, he should, but he can’t stop himself from chasing the pleasure for a moment longer.

“A-Alexander!” He gasps as Alex’s cock hits that spot again. “Too much!” His thighs clamp harder onto Alex’s hips. “Ngh, if y-you keep moving your hips like that—!”

Alex’s fingers suddenly still him and Henry whines, pleasure slipping from his grasp once again. He wrenches his eyes open to glare up at the other man. Alex stares back down at him impassively.

“Me?” he asks. “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one that’s moving your hips like you’re paid to do it.”

Henry flushes, heat crawling up his neck.

“I—”

Alex shifts back from Henry’s grasp, enough so that only the head of his cock spears Henry open. Henry shivers, biting back a whine at the sudden emptiness inside him. He hooks his legs harder into Alex’s sides, but the other is unmoved.

“Harder,” Henry begs, feeling like he's losing his mind. He just…needs Alex to move. “Love, fuck me harder, make me cum, I need it.“

“Oh?” Alex looks almost bored with their conversation. “But I thought you wanted me to be gentle and slow?”

Henry curls his fingers into the bedsheets.

“Which is it?” Alex asks, tapping a rhythm onto where he’s holding Henry’s hips down. “Make up your mind, Fox.”

Henry flushes, feeling his entire body overheating. Alex tolerates his silence for only a second longer, before he’s leaning down and staring into Henry’s eyes. Henry swallows and watches that obsidian gaze above his.

“Do you want me to be nice?” Alex’s breath is hot in his ear. “Or do you want me to pound your pretty cunt until you’re crying and squirting all over both of us again?”

He licks the side of Henry’s face, the action quick and sensual enough to send Henry shuddering. “Up to you.”

It only takes a teasing thrust against his slick hole for Henry to decide. He wraps his arms around Alex’s neck and draws him close, startling a huff of surprise out of the other man.

“Baby?”

“The second option,” he whispers into Alex’s ear. Alex shivers on top of him.

“Color?”

“So bloody green.”

Alex pauses only for a moment before he’s drawing his hips back and stuffing Henry full of his cock. Henry shoves his face into Alex’s neck to keep from shouting in surprise, but the squeal he lets out nearly pierces the air as is.

“Alexander—!”

Even though his hands aren’t on it, he can feel that dizzying bulge in his belly.

Alex makes good on his promise, ramming Henry so full of his cock and hitting that spot with every deep, intense thrust of his hips, that Henry nearly blacks out with each push. The feeling of Alex’s hips slapping against his tender flesh and his dick hitting the most sensitive parts of him that only Alex could reach…It’s both all too much and not enough altogether.

This time, Henry can’t keep the mewls from spilling out from his mouth—each more lewd than the last.

“Hnngh! Too deep, it’s too deep, Alexander!”

“Ngh, baby,” Alex breathes out. “Yeah? You like it this deep?”

Henry nods, sobbing, the sheer euphoria of being taken and fucked like a slut almost making him go cross-eyed. “Love it,” he blabbers. “I love it.”

“G-God, you feel so fucking good. You were made for me, sweetheart, Every inch of you was made for every inch of me. My omega.”

“Yours,” Henry mewls. “My alpha.”

Alex swears, picking up the pace. “Next time, Henry,” he gasps through his own wanton noises. “I’m gonna knot you, gonna fuck a baby into you,” he grazes his teeth over Henry’s mating gland. “Y-you want that, sweetheart?”

“Yesyesyes—! Alexander, love, y-you’re hitting somewhere w-weird!” Henry cries, his hands flying to his stomach, feeling that tiny bulge in his belly. He presses down on it slightly and groans; pleasure and pain erupting through his body in twin shocks. “Oh! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum—”

“Ah, am I hitting your cervix?” Alex’s voice rumbles through him, the vibrations melding into Henry’s skin. “I didn’t know I could reach that, ugh, deep inside you. Color?”

“Green, green, green,” Henry sobs, tears filling his eyes.

He thinks he might die if Alex stops now. He’s so close to the edge hurtling toward something intense and incomprehensible. Since when could sex be so good that it was scary? Alex kisses him lightly on the nose for his answer and rewards him with a deep thrust that sends Henry’s mind practically shattering into pieces.

“My pussy’s g-going to break,” Henry moans. “You’re going to break me, alpha.”

“Is that so?” Alex drawls, still hammering into him at an unforgiving pace. “Is your little pussy gonna break from a bit o-of fucking, omega?” His fingers are rough and insistent on Henry’s stiff clit—unrelenting and almost cruel in their ministrations. “Now we can’t let that happen, can we?”

For some reason, past the headiness of lust and anticipation growing in Henry’s stomach, something almost disappointed arises.

“W-why not—?”

Maybe it would be okay if Alex wanted to break him, just like this. Maybe it would feel—

“Why not?” Alex leans in close, his chest pressed against Henry’s chest, and bites the side of his neck. “I never wanted to break you,” He whispers against sensitive skin. Henry’s back arches—on the edge of snapping, on the edge of falling completely—as Alex somehow goes even faster.

Alex’s words are a pair of matches to a pool of gasoline.

“You feel too good to break, Henry.”

And that does it.

Henry shouts; his cunt spasms so sporadically around Alex’s cock that it forces it out of his hole.

Then, he’s cumming so hard, everything becomes fuzzy. He’s vaguely aware that he’s squirting, his sloppy pussy drenching the mattress again for the second time that night, and that he’s screaming, the sound high-pitched and unfamiliar. But he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t think he ever can.

After what seems like years, his vision finally clears and his entire world tilts back onto its correct axis. He blinks, seeking the one person who could ever get him to this state.

Alex stares down at him, hair mussed and sweat trickling down his pale skin. His eyes are dark and lovely, like the night sky. He’s bloody lovely.

“Wow,” Alex whistles, low. “Goddamn.”

Henry twitches at the sound of that deep voice. His brain feels so strange, his body even stranger—like he was on aphrodisiacs and Alex was Aphrodite herself, the root of all his lust. Impossibly, even after so many earth-shattering orgasms and his sore body, he wants more.

“Fox,” A finger, long and callused, lightly taps against his cheek. It feels cool to the touch, perfect against Henry’s overheating body. “The face you make when you cum…It’s too fucking sexy.”

Henry nestles into his palm, eyes heavy.

“Glad you like it.”

“Would pay to see it again.”

No need to, Henry almost blurts out, despite himself. You could see it again for free, anytime, anywhere. He clears his throat, still high off the euphoria of a perfect orgasm.

“You’ve seen it four times already,” he deadpans, though he’s smiling too much for it to pack a punch.

“I have a bad memory,” Alex says, nipping at Henry’s swollen lips. “Indulge me later?”

“You didn’t cum,” Henry whispers, after a beat, realization dawning. Alex’s cock is still hard, so much so that it looks a little painful. Henry winces at the sight.

“I really don’t care,” Alex says, seriously. “Seriously, if I had to give up having orgasms or seeing you orgasm, it wouldn’t even be a competition. That was a fucking religious experience, Fox. Ten out of fucking ten.”

“Cum on my face,” Henry says. He relishes the way that Alex blinks, stunned and silent for once in his life.

“What?”

Henry smiles in response, and Alex groans.

“You little cock tease,” he says. “You don’t have to, Fox. I’m seriously fine. You should rest, I’ll get you some water.”

“Alexander,” Henry says, slowly. “I want you to.”

So, Alex, his eyes burning hot, his smile soft, slides the condom off. He stands on the side of the bed, with Henry still lying down—his head hanging upside down over the edge. It only takes a few strokes with a rough, quick hand for Alex to cum. He’s vision when he’s swimming in pleasure, head thrown back and eyes rolled back. Henry watches him, his core clenching.

Alex’s cum lands on his face, mostly on Henry’s lips and Henry flicks a tongue out, savoring the taste of Alex.

Alex looks at him, breathing heavy, before dropping down to his knees and kissing Henry square on the mouth. Henry kisses him back, heart fluttering.

“Everything you ever hoped for?” Henry murmurs, against Alex’s lips.

“Maybe,” Alex teases, cockily, and for once, Henry doesn’t want to punch him for it. “And how did I hold up? Still ‘eh?’”

Henry kisses him again, and that’s answer enough.

“This doesn’t change anything, right?” Henry croaks, when Alex carries him to the bathroom, his body too sore to remember how to function. Alex rubs a hand on Henry’s hip, soothing.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice unreadable. “Do you want anything to change?”

Henry blinks as Alex carefully deposits him into the shower. He leans against the shower wall, watching Alex squirt shampoo onto his hands and carefully card his long, wonderful fingers through Henry’s hair. Henry lets him wash his hair, closing his eyes under the hot spray of the water.

He lets Alex wash his body and does his best to wipe Alex down, even with his shaky limbs.

They stumble out onto the bed. Alex pushes their dirty sheets haphazardly off the bed and Henry curls into his side for warmth, purring as Alex wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him closer.

“I don’t know,” Henry finally answers the earlier question; too fucked-out and rubbed raw—literally and mentally—to put up a front and lie. “What do you want?”

Alex smiles at him, his mouth stretching into that slow, sweet grin that had sent Henry’s heart stuttering earlier.

“I want to watch you cum again,” he says, enigmatically. “I want to fight with you and watch you pout in that annoyingly, cute way you do when you’re pissed off at me—and only me. I just want to be around you, Henry.”

Henry looks at him, a seed of something new and delicate blossoming in his chest.

“Well,” he says, kissing the hollow of Alex’s throat. “We can make all three happen, I bet.”

Alex’s huff of amusement is sleepy.

“I bet.”

“I thought you weren’t a spooner,” Henry murmurs, curling his own arms around Alex’s waist.

“I was lying,” Alex admits. “I’m a lawyer, I'm good at that. Good night, Henry.”

Henry falls asleep, to the scent of cardamom and violets, with a smile on his face.