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The bar was dim, hazy with the low buzz of conversation and the faint clink of glasses. Alex leaned back in his chair, one hand loosely gripping his whiskey, the other resting on the edge of the table. Raf sat across from him, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a teasing glimpse of golden skin and the faintest sheen of sweat. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Shouldn’t have made Alex’s throat feel dry.
“You’re staring,” Raf said, his voice low and amused.
Alex smirked, lifting his glass to his lips. “It’s hard not to when you’re showing off like that. What’s with the whole ‘disheveled senator’ look tonight? Trying to get laid?”
Raf laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that Alex felt in his chest. “I don’t have to try. But thanks for noticing.”
“Cocky as ever,” Alex shot back, rolling his eyes. “Guess some things never change.”
Raf tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Neither do you, apparently. Still got that mouth on you.”
“Someone’s gotta keep you in check,” Alex retorted, his grin sharpening. “God knows you’d be insufferable if I didn’t.”
“You think you’re keeping me in check?” Raf’s voice dipped, and the challenge in his tone made Alex’s pulse skip. “That’s adorable.”
Alex leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh, I don’t just think it. I know it.”
Raf’s gaze lingered on him for a beat too long, the air between them thickening. Alex felt the heat crawl up his neck and reached for his glass again, taking a long sip. The whiskey burned in his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the way Raf was looking at him.
“Careful, diablito,” Raf said, his voice smooth but edged with something that made Alex’s stomach flip. “You’re starting to sound like you miss me.”
Alex snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Miss you? I see you all the time. You’re practically a piece of furniture in my life.”
Raf raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning smug. “Yeah? Is that why you called me the second I landed last week? Couldn’t wait to hang out?”
Alex pointed a finger at him, his grin crooked. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was bored.”
“Uh-huh.” Raf took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Alex. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you need more friends other than me, Nora and your sister.”
“I’ve got other friends,” Alex said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could think better of them. He immediately winced at how defensive they sounded.
“Sure you do,” Raf said, his smirk widening. “And yet you swing by my office at least four times a week. Funny how that works.”
Alex narrowed his eyes, fighting back the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks. “Don’t make it weird, Raf.”
“You make it weird all on your own,” Raf shot back, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. “Like the way you keep staring at my collar. Should I button up? Or is this working for you?”
Alex rolled his eyes, though his gaze flicked—traitorous and brief—back to Raf’s chest. “It’s working fine for you, apparently. Want me to grab you a mirror so you can admire yourself properly?”
Raf laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” Alex snapped, too quickly, which only made Raf’s grin grow.
“Right,” Raf said, dragging the word out, his voice dripping with amusement. “Must be the whiskey, then.”
Alex huffed, downing the rest of his drink. He couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through him—the alcohol, yes, but also the easy banter, the way Raf’s eyes lit up when they argued. It was too comfortable, too familiar. And that was dangerous.
“You know,” Alex said, leaning forward, his voice turning teasing, “you’re awfully smug for someone who still owes me from that pool game last summer.”
Raf raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. “Owes you? You mean the one where you cheated?”
“Cheated? Please. You were just mad I sank the eight ball before you even realized what was happening.”
“You didn’t call your pocket,” Raf pointed out, his tone smug.
“I didn’t need to,” Alex shot back, grinning. “Everyone knew where it was going.”
Raf shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you love it,” Alex said, the words slipping out too easily, too naturally.
Raf’s smirk faltered for half a second, replaced by something softer, something that made Alex’s chest tighten. He recovered quickly, though, his grin returning with a teasing edge. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid.”
Alex rolled his eyes again, but the warmth in his chest lingered. “Order another round or shut up,” he said, pushing his empty glass toward Raf.
Raf signaled the bartender, his eyes still on Alex. “One more. Then you’re going home to your prince.”
Alex snorted, though the mention of Henry felt like a splash of cold water. He nodded, leaning back in his chair and forcing himself to look away from Raf’s collar, from the way his shirt clung to his chest. One more drink. Then he’d leave.
He had to.
The whiskey hit harder with each sip, loosening Alex’s limbs and pulling him into the heady swirl of Raf’s presence. One more drink had turned into another, the rich burn warming his chest while the easy rhythm of their banter pulled him deeper into the moment. He should have left by now, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stand.
“Careful kid,” Raf said, his smirk sharpening as he swirled his own drink. “At this rate, I’ll have to carry you out of here.”
“Please,” Alex scoffed, leaning an elbow on the table and grinning. “You’d probably drop me halfway to the car old man, what are you now- thirty-eight? One foot in the grave.”
Raf chuckled, the sound deep and familiar, like it had always lived in Alex’s bones. “I could still put you over my shoulder like it’s nothing, kid. Don’t tempt me.” The heat in Raf’s voice hit Alex square in the chest, sinking low in his gut. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out uneven, and his gaze betrayed him, darting to the open collar of Raf’s shirt. The golden skin, the way it glistened faintly under the bar’s dim light—it was too much and not enough all at once.
A fire burned in Alex's belly at the thought of Raf picking him up and carrying him over his shoulder- he knew the other man could. The gym had become another one of Luna's vices and the results were clear to see. Never mind Raf's wrestling days in college. Alex knew he could throw men around like it was nothing.
“You’re really proud of that shirt, huh?” Alex said, his voice slightly slurred. “Can’t button it up because then no one would see how much time you’ve been spending at the gym?”
Raf raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning smug. “Can’t help it if it gets a reaction.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Alex muttered, but the warmth in his face gave him away.
Raf leaned forward, his gaze steady and sharp. “You’ve been staring all night, Alex. At least own it.”
Alex froze for half a second, his heart pounding as he scrambled for a response. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure out when you became such a diva.”
“Always with the excuses,” Raf said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind being admired, you know, even by young punks who know better.”
The words landed like a spark, igniting something Alex had been trying to ignore all night. He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his glass. The warmth in his chest twisted, a dangerous mix of longing and guilt.
“I should go,” he said, but the words came out weak, unconvincing. He didn’t move. Why didn't he move? Why was his eyes still lingers on the chiseled jawline before him? His life was amazing. He was only 23 and already lucky enough to have found the love of his life. So why was he here flirting with his dad's best friend? Someone nearly sixteen years older than him? Alex felt like he was going to throw up. How much whiskey had he had tonight? He knew it had been a mistake to go shot to shot with Rafael Fucking Luna. That man could drink.
Raf sat back, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, you probably should.”
Alex frowned, his pride prickling. “What, trying to get rid of me?”
“Trying to save you from yourself,” Raf said simply, his voice calm but firm.
Alex opened his mouth to argue, but Raf cut him off with a raised hand.
“Look, I get it,” Raf said, his tone dropping to something softer. “We’re drunk, and you’re feeling… things. But you don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”
The directness of the words hit Alex like a slap. His jaw tightened, but he couldn’t deny the truth in them.
“You think I can’t control myself?” Alex challenged, though the heat in his voice had cooled.
Raf’s gaze softened further, and he reached across the table, his hand brushing Alex’s wrist briefly—a touch that was grounding and maddening all at once. “I think you’ve got someone waiting at home who deserves the best version of you. Not the version sitting here, drowning in whiskey and bad ideas.”
Alex blinked, the weight of Raf’s words settling heavy in his chest. He hated how right he was. Hated that he needed to hear it.
Raf stood, tossing a few bills onto the table. “Come on,” he said, his voice lighter now, teasing. “Let’s get you out of here before you say something even more embarrassing.”
Alex grumbled but let Raf guide him toward the door, his mind a mess of emotions he didn’t want to untangle.
Outside, the cool night air hit him like a wake-up call, sobering and sharp. Raf stopped at the curb, glancing back at Alex with a faint smirk. “You’ll thank me for this in the morning.”
Alex rolled his eyes, but the edge of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint.”
Raf stepped closer, pulling him into a brief, firm hug. It caught Alex off guard, the warmth of Raf’s body and the steady weight of his arms grounding him for just a moment. “Take care of yourself, diablito,” Raf murmured before pulling back, not before pressing a quick, brotherly kiss to his temple. The spot where Raf's lips touched his forehead burned. Or at least, Alex thought it did.
Alex didn’t have time to respond before Raf turned and gestured toward a black SUV idling nearby. Cash stepped out, his expression unreadable as he opened the door for Alex.
“Seriously?” Alex muttered, shooting Raf an incredulous look.
Raf’s smirk was back, lazy and smug. “Can’t trust you to get home on your own.”
Alex huffed, climbing into the car. He didn’t look back, but as the door closed and the SUV pulled away, he couldn’t shake the feeling of Raf’s gaze lingering on him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from Henry: Hope you are having fun. Love you.
Alex exhaled, his chest tightening. He texted back a quick On my way. Love you too baby before slipping his phone back into his pocket.
He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He loved Henry. He knew that. With all his heart. Raf and he were natural flirts and together, well, together they could over do it- but that it all that it was. Harmless flirting with a friend. Raf was never an option anyway. He was his dad’s best friend. Sixteen years older than him. It would never work. He would never want it to work. Henry was the love of his life.
The apartment was dim and quiet when Alex walked in, the scent of Henry’s latest baking attempt lingering in the air. Henry was on the couch, papers spread out on the coffee table, pen tapping lightly against his lips as he read. He looked up when Alex entered, his blue eyes warm and his lips widening in a soft smile that never failed to get Alex’s heart racing.
“You’re back late,” Henry said, setting the pen aside as Alex shrugged out of his jacket.
“Yeah, drinks with Raf,” Alex said, tossing his keys onto the counter. His voice was steadier than he felt, though his skin still buzzed faintly from the whiskey and something he didn’t want to name.
Henry stood, stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin that made Alex’s chest tighten. God his boyfriend was beautiful. “How was it?”
Alex waved a hand, noncommittal, before crossing the room. He caught Henry’s wrist, pulling him close, and kissed him hard enough that Henry let out a surprised sound against his lips.
When Alex pulled back, Henry frowned slightly, studying him. “What’s gotten into you?”
Alex rested his forehead against Henry’s, his grip tightening on Henry’s waist. “I need you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I need you to fuck me.”
Henry blinked, clearly taken aback. “You—what?”
Alex kissed him again, his hands slipping under Henry’s shirt, dragging him closer. “Please,” he murmured against Henry’s lips. “Just… I need you.”
Henry hesitated for a beat before nodding, his hands settling on Alex’s hips. “Alright,” he said softly. “Let’s go to bed.”
Henry kissed Alex slowly, his touch careful, tender, as he eased them onto the bed. Normally, Alex loved this—loved how Henry worshipped him, how his touch felt like a promise. But tonight, Alex felt restless, his body wound too tight.
“Harder,” Alex muttered, his fingers curling into the sheets as Henry pressed into him. Henry smelled amazing as always. Just not like whiskey and cigarettes. Fuck. He didn’t want someone who smelt like whiskey and cigarettes. Raf probably had a bit of a drinking problem, something they just brushed a bit under the rug, which Alex knew they shouldn’t- but it was Raf. Alex was vocal about hating when Raf smoked though. So was he craving the smell then? Alex ignored it and pulled his boyfriend down into a scorching kiss.
“Hard.” Alex asked again. Raf would be rough in bed he knew. Raf had a wild side. Spent his teen years on the street, lived rough, fast and dirty. Fought for everything he had in life. Alex wondered if Raf would bring his rough and tumble fire from the senate floor into the bedroom.
Henry paused, frowning slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Alex snapped, then softened his tone. “I’m sure. Please.”
Henry nodded, adjusting his angle, but it still wasn’t quite enough. His thrusts were deliberate but shallow, and while Alex appreciated the care Henry was taking, it wasn’t what he needed. Not tonight.
“God,” Alex hissed, shifting under him, trying to chase the friction he craved. “Just—” He cut himself off, frustration curling in his chest.
Henry slowed, his brows furrowing. “Am I—”
“You’re fine,” Alex said quickly, forcing a smile. “It’s fine.”
Henry pressed a kiss to Alex’s shoulder, his rhythm steady but still too careful. Alex closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the man above him—the man he loved. But his body betrayed him, his mind flickering back to rough hands and teasing grins.
Henry slowed his rhythm, his hands braced on either side of Alex as he pressed a final, shaky thrust. His body stilled, chest heaving, and Alex felt the warmth of Henry’s release inside him. Henry stayed there for a moment, his forehead pressed to Alex’s shoulder, his breath ragged against Alex’s skin.
Normally Alex would have been consumed by the intimacy of it—the way Henry’s body felt against his. But tonight Alex couldn’t quite get there. The frustration still lingered in his chest, tight and unyielding, as if mocking his efforts.
Henry pulled back slightly, his lips brushing Alex’s collarbone before shifting his weight off to the side. He looked down at Alex, his gaze soft at first, but then his brows furrowed. His eyes flicked lower, a faint crease forming between his brows. “You’ve gone soft,” Henry said, his voice quiet but careful. “Alex, you didn’t…” He trailed off, his expression turning from confusion to concern. “What’s wrong?”
Alex tensed, his chest tightening with something too messy to name. “Nothing,” he said quickly, his voice clipped. “I’m fine.”
Henry’s gaze lingered, unwavering. “You didn’t finish,” he said, his tone softer now.
“I said I’m fine,” Alex snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness of his words. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired.”
Henry sat up fully, the lines of his body still relaxed from his release, but his expression was all tension. “You’re not tired,” he said gently but firmly. “You were the one who wanted this. You asked me to—” He stopped, his jaw tightening, before looking at Alex again. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
Alex groaned softly, covering his face with his hands. “Henry, I don’t know,” he muttered. “I guess it just didn’t… work.”
Henry blinked, his frown deepening. “Didn’t work?” he repeated, incredulous. “Alex, it’s not like you to—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. “Did I hurt you? I know you normally don’t botto-”
“No! No, of course not,” Alex cut him off quickly, sitting up and reaching for Henry’s hand. “It’s not you, sweetheart. I swear.”
Henry looked at him, scepticism clear in his gaze. “It has to be something,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Because you were the one who asked for this, and now you’re telling me you’re fine when it’s obvious you’re not.”
Alex’s jaw tightened as he looked away, his hands gripping the sheets. “I just…” He hesitated, his throat working against the words stuck there. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
Henry shifted closer, his hand brushing lightly against Alex’s knee. “Try,” he said softly. “Please.”
Alex exhaled heavily, staring at the wall as the frustration bubbled up again. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit out loud that as much as he loved Henry, as much as he craved everything about him, there was a small, nagging part of him that wanted to be fucked senseless by his dad’s rough and tumble best friend.
“It’s not you,” Alex said finally, his voice low. “It’s me. I think I just… I couldn’t get out of my head tonight.”
Henry’s gaze softened, though the worry didn’t fully leave his expression. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “But I’m not going to let you just lie here and stew in it.”
Alex frowned. “Henry, it’s fine. Really. I’ll just—”
“No,” Henry interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. “You deserve to feel good too. I’ll make sure of it.”
Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Henry was already sliding down the bed, his hands pressing firmly against Alex’s thighs as he settled between them. Alex’s breath caught, his frustration momentarily replaced by the heat of anticipation as Henry kissed his hip, his tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin.
“You don’t have to,” Alex murmured, though the words were weak, half-hearted.
Henry glanced up, his blue eyes steady. “I want to,” he said simply, before bending down and taking Alex into his mouth.
The warmth and wetness made Alex groan, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. Henry’s mouth moved over him with practiced ease, his tongue swirling and flicking in ways that should have sent Alex over the edge. Henry was good at this, the best. The things he could do with his tongue- Alex could write poetry about it. But even as his body responded, the ache in his chest remained.
Alex clenched his hands into the sheets, his mind flickering back to the weight of Raf’s hands, the way he would pound into him without hesitation, the sharp pleasure of being pushed past his limits. He bit his lip hard, guilt coursing through him as he forced himself to focus on his beautiful, amazing and very talented with his tongue boyfriend.
Henry pulled back slightly, his gaze searching. “Still not enough?” he asked, his tone soft but tinged with concern.
Alex hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “It’s… not that,” he said haltingly. “I just… maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Henry pressed gently.
Alex swallowed hard, his throat tight. “The prostate massager,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “It’s in the sock drawer. Can we use that?”
Henry blinked, his surprise evident, but he didn’t hesitate long. They had used it on Henry before, never on Alex though. “Of course,” he said calmly. He leaned over, rummaging through the drawer until he found the sleek device. He turned back to Alex, his lips quirking in a small, wry smile. “This?”
Alex nodded, his face burning. “Yeah.”
Henry’s expression softened. “You could’ve told me sooner,” he teased lightly. “I don’t bite.”
Alex huffed a soft laugh despite himself, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Figured we didn’t need it.”
“Well, let’s see if it helps,” Henry said, his tone light but steady. He coated the device with lube, his movements careful and deliberate, and when he pressed it into Alex, the coolness made him shiver.
The pressure hit perfectly, and Alex groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “That’s—yeah,” he said, his voice hitching. “That’s it.”
Henry smiled faintly, bending down to take Alex back into his mouth, the combination of sensations sending a jolt of pleasure through Alex. The frustration ebbed away, replaced by a sharp, aching bliss as Henry worked him with focused care.
It didn’t take long for Alex to shudder, his release hitting hard and leaving him gasping. Henry swallowed him completely down, tongue still on Alex through his orgasm. Henry was one talented motherfucker with his mouth.
Henry slid up beside him afterward, brushing a kiss against his temple.
“Better?” Henry asked softly.
Alex turned to him, his chest still heaving. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse but sincere. “Better.”
Henry smiled, pulling Alex into his arms. And Alex let himself sink into the warmth of it, even as the lingering guilt refused to let go.
"You're so fucking beautiful Hen."
Henry gave a soft, happy laugh. "You're not bad yourself darling."
"I love you baby." Alex murmured into Henry's chest and he meant every single word.
He loved Henry.
He really, really did.
He knew this focus on Raf was a silly little crush. He would get over it. Of course he would.