Archive of Our Own ^beta

Henry is sitting at the window nook in his bedroom, David’s comforting presence warm and heavy on his lap. He'd given up any attempts to sleep after tossing and turning for three hours straight, instead choosing to partake in one of his favorite activities; watching the rain. The window is cracked slightly so he can hear the raindrops falling and he’s in a state of calm that comes easier and easier the longer he's away from England. 

Lost in thought as he follows two raindrops racing down the glass, his long gone parents come to mind. He wonders for the millionth time if he could ever experience a love like they had. When he was younger, he had dreamed daily about if he had a soulmate, what he’d be like, if he'd love Henry as much as Arthur and Catherine loved each other. 

Then, at the ripe age of 13, he’d learned that his “proclivities” are apparently “inappropriate and perverse” from his scarily perceptive witch of a grandmother. 

Then he got the devastating news of his father’s diagnosis at the age of 15, and watched the person he cared about most in the world waste away in a hospital bed for the next two years. 

Then he watched life itself drain out of the eyes of half of the pair he’d admired since he first understood the concept of romance. 

Then in the subsequent weeks he watched light also disappear from the eyes of the other half, turning her into a walking ghost. 

In a sick twist of fate at the age of 17, he lost not only his father but also his mother and siblings, and the concept of love became but a distant memory.

Pez is the only reason Henry had made it through that time, helping him get Bea to rehab and apply to schools far away from England. He left behind Philip’s biting criticism, Mary’s constant surveillance, and his mother’s empty eyes for New York City and never looked back. Now he's over halfway through his Literature degree at NYU, the past three years spent living his own life with Pez by his side. With his newfound freedom and consistent therapy, he was able to grow more comfortable in his own skin than he's ever been. Far away from Mary’s thinly veiled hatred and his brother’s constant hissing, Henry Fox has blossomed.

Becoming well aware of his looks and the power he wields, he now has far more sexual experience than just being taken advantage of at 16, sloshed on cheap vodka and yearning for an escape from his neverending dread and anxiety. Soaking up false affection like parched earth, teenage Henry had awful taste in men that has at least been slightly rectified since then. 

But still, all he ever has is just sex. Meaningless hookups with men whom he rarely remembers the names of, let alone bothering to save the copious phone numbers he’s slipped. He never has trouble finding partners who will satiate his desire for rough, dirty sex, but it’s never any more intimate and sensual than that. He doesn’t need any more than that. In the rare case that he actually found the right person, it would just hurt more when he eventually loses them. He grew accustomed to keeping everyone at a distance, keeping their encounters purely sexual and shutting down any attempts at intimacy.

Then to his immense surprise he’d been asked out a few days ago by a sweet man he'd befriended in one of his classes, and for the first time in years had considered actually going on a date. Javier’s an incredibly attractive and kind man who writes beautiful poetry, and Henry for a split second had easily pictured them together. He had pictured a warm body lying in bed with him, broad arms wrapped tightly around his body while sleeping, a soft kiss placed on his forehead in the morning before he gets out of bed to make Henry tea, not to gather his clothes and leave. He could picture coffee shop dates and walking through the park holding hands, could picture cuddling on the couch during movie nights, could picture someone who treats him gently, who touches him like they care about him, who doesn't just use him like a toy and then walk away. He hadn’t felt longing like that since his father died and all the love in the world withered away. Scared out of his mind, he had practically sprinted away without saying a word to poor Javier and then promptly had a panic attack in the bathroom. 

This is what led him to his current 2 am musing, wondering when the yearning he'd thought was long dead had snuck back into his heart. He sighs and curls up into a ball, arms tightening around David and hiding his face in his soft fur. The pup’s calming scent loosens the knot in his throat, and for the hundredth time he silently sends his thanks to Pez for convincing him to adopt an emotional support dog. 

Henry doesn't realize he's finally drifted off until he suddenly jerks awake, eyes flying open when he registers the surface he's laying on is not the small loveseat by the window in his bedroom and is in fact a huge bed with an incredibly soft comforter. His own bed is not nearly this luxurious, and Pez is most definitely not strong enough to have lifted Henry into it anyways. David is nowhere to be seen, and as he sits up in a panic, he realizes he can't see anything. The entire world is blurry, and despite feeling physically fine Henry immediately thinks that he must've somehow gotten kidnapped and drugged. It's NYC, there's a different horror story in the news every week. Can anyone really blame him for panicking when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place after falling asleep safe and sound in his flat?

Except, as he climbs off the bed and backs into a corner, looking around frantically, the bedroom doesn't feel unfamiliar. If anything, it feels calm and safe which confuses Henry until the realization hits him like a truck, and he nearly falls to his knees from the tidal wave of feelings that wash over him. He'd heard about this from his parents. About how they'd fallen asleep on a random night in their youth and dreamed respectively about a beautiful man and woman baking cookies together in their pajamas, and a joyful couple with smiles as bright as the sun dancing at their wedding. He has a soulmate.

Henry can't help but wonder if this is just a strange coincidence or something else, considering he'd just been going through a romantic crisis. Is he hallucinating? Did he take too much sleeping medication and dream this up out of pure desire to have what his parents had? He’s pretty sure he hadn’t taken any medicine tonight at Percy’s behest, his worried flatmate having been monitoring Henry’s intake recently as his insomnia has gotten even worse. 

It only takes a few rattled seconds until he's hyperventilating and he quickly presses his hands against his chest and abdomen, trying to focus on the breathing techniques his therapist taught him. Henry keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut and breathes in for four seconds, holds it for seven, out for eight-

It takes him several minutes to come back from the brink, at some point opening his eyes and focusing on the deep blue of the carpet as a crutch. As he finally calms down and straightens up, leaning against the wall to steady his shaky legs, he realizes it’s not a wall but a massive bookshelf. Pure bookworm instinct drives him to turn and look at it even though he’s aware he won't be able to read any of the titles. He is, despite the blurriness, still able to see that it's overflowing with books even as it takes up half an entire wall of the spacious room. He’s unable to resist running his fingers over the spines. His body, like it has ingrained muscle memory of using this bookshelf, takes him directly to a specific book near the center of the fourth shelf from the top. Henry nearly jumps out of his skin as he recognizes the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice his father gave him when he was 12, the cracked spine and engraved title unmistakeable after all the years he's spent cradling it. 

He nearly stumbles backwards, dizzy with shock. This is way too realistic to be a dream, isn't it? This room feels too familiar, feels more like home than even the flat he shares with Pez. His gaze falls on a door, the frame clearer than the blurry shapes of everything else in the room. It calls to him like a siren. Well, only one way to find out.

Henry gently cracks open the door and tiptoes into the hallway, muscle memory from sneaking around the manor to avoid Mary and Philip kicking in. Belatedly he realizes he doesn't need to be creeping around like a house burglar, but it still feels much more comfortable than just walking normally around this unknown space. There's soft music, a song he’s never heard that he notices belatedly is not in English, playing from down the corridor.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly walks towards it, taking in the blurry shapes of pictures on the wall and the tasteful houseplants and decorations dotting the space. The clearer shapes lead him past a spacious living room with wide windows and a huge sectional that he can practically see himself curled up under a blanket on, laying on someone's chest and binging Bake Off. The windows are letting in the setting sun, bathing the room with a pinkish orange glow that mixes softly with the glow of the few lamps that are on. 

He can hear a voice gently singing to the music coming from a wide arched doorway a few steps from the living room. An absolutely delicious smell of warm savory spice fills his nostrils and his mouth waters. Henry can see the shape of kitchen counters from his position, clearer than anything else he's seen so far, and he realizes with a start that the voice he's been listening to is his own. He didn't recognize it at first, given that the music is in what he recognizes vaguely as Spanish. Despite knowing three languages (English, French, and German) and currently learning a fourth (Latin), he doesn't actually know any Spanish besides the very obvious well known phrases. Pausing outside the doorway, he listens to his own voice (god that’s strange) softly croon a song that’s dreamy and romantic, and oddly familiar in the way everything else here is. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry prepares himself to enter the kitchen. In the back of his mind he notes that his own voice is the only one he can hear, and he hasn't seen anyone else in the apartment on his way here. Is he alone? Did the person who matches his soul reject him? That thought is just too deeply wrong to him, so he shrugs off the rising nausea as best as he can and forces himself to step into the room, knowing that all his questions will be answered if he just keeps going. He ends up stopping short only a few steps past the doorframe, eyes wide and breathing shallow. 

He spends about half a second vaguely taking in a beautiful, large kitchen and its attached dining room, the type of space he'd love to use if he wasn't an absolute fire hazard who can't cook, before his eyes snap to the figure standing at the large marble island. Seeing himself in the flesh is the strangest thing he's ever done, no doubt about it. It’s nothing like seeing pictures of himself or looking in the mirror. Thoughts of am I really that tall? and so that's what the back of my head looks like flit in and out of his head as quick as lightning before being completely drowned out by the reality of the man before him. This Henry, he's-

He's happy. He's beautifully, incandescently happy, and it radiates off of him like a halo. Past Henry takes a few more steps forward, jaw dropped, unable to stop himself from getting a better look at this marvel. 

As the other sings he’s swaying to the music with a soft and serene smile as he… shapes meatballs? He has on latex gloves and is skillfully shaping a bowl of ground meat into neat little balls. Apparently he’s learned to cook, and from a skilled teacher if the drool-worthy smell coming from the pot bubbling on the stove is anything to go by. Henry would still be nervous about the fire alarm going off if the man didn't seem so completely at ease, a complete opposite of every single time he's ever tried to cook on his own thus far (the local delivery drivers for his favorite places know him well).

Henry almost does a double take at his outfit as he takes him in fully. He's wearing someone else's clothes under his apron, Henry's sure of it. Unless he somehow got into the habit of wearing jumpers that are entirely too baggy and stretched out in shape and also too short for his long torso, revealing a strip of pale skin at his hips. The joggers are a similar story, the ankles riding up too high like they're made for someone inches shorter. Looking at his ankles he sees something else that makes an involuntary smile spread across his face, his heart swelling. 

An older David sits patiently at Future Henry's feet, his little puppy fully grown and with a very light dusting of grey on his muzzle. His big eyes are as adorable as ever, staring at his owner as his little tail wags gently behind him. Henry watches enraptured as his future self finishes up the last of the meat, moving to the stove to carefully drop the meatballs into the bubbling liquid. He gently nudges David away from the stove with the side of his foot, chuckling fondly. 

“Careful, darling, It's dangerous for you over here.” Dropping the last meatball in, he disposes of his gloves, puts all of the dirty dishes in the sink and then leans down to pick up his furry son. Now that his gloves are gone, Henry quickly spots a shiny gold band on his left ring finger. Legs weak, he collapses into one of the barstools at the kitchen island, watching with a racing heart as his future self sways with David for a few seconds, murmuring praise and kissing his head before pulling a treat out of a jar on the counter and putting him back down. David trots over to a plush dog bed in the corner that's three times his size, settling down to enjoy his chewy stick while his owner pours himself some wine and starts to wash the dishes. 

Henry doesn't know how much time passes just watching himself finish up the dishes and wipe down the counters. He detachedly thinks that it should be more strange seeing himself so openly joyous, doing domestic tasks that he's unfortunately not very proficient at back in his own time, but it feels so right it's impossible to deny. He can't help but wonder what the hell happened to him that makes him outwardly look like nothing bad has ever happened to him in his life, like he loves being alive more than anything and never has dark days. 

He's so lost in thought and fixated on the blond in front of him that he misses the distant sound of a door closing and the clattering of keys in a dish. Future Henry does as well which means Henry has absolutely no warning for the sudden sight of the most gorgeous man he's ever seen in his 21 years on Earth suddenly appearing in the doorway. 

He stands a few inches shorter than Henry, broad in a way that has him drooling almost immediately. It's no secret that he likes his men muscled, and the way this Adonis’s biceps are bulging through his white button up as he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe should be illegal. It should be illegal in general to be this sexy, Henry thinks as he unashamedly runs his eyes up and down the man’s entire body and face. It's not like the man can see him, so why shouldn't he ogle away to his heart's desire? 

And who would ever want to look away from deep caramel skin, perfect curls that he wants to run his hands through, warm brown eyes framed by surreal thick lashes, a neatly trimmed beard that accentuates his fibonacci jawline, and a sinful smile punctuated with deep dimples? His body is pornographic, indecent just by existing with his sleeves rolled up to show off thick forearms leading to giant hands that Henry can immediately fantasize wrapped around his throat or his wrists or any other body parts. His black slacks fit his body perfectly, highlighting powerful legs and a sizable bulge that makes him hot all over just looking at. 

Henry is so caught up in ogling him that he almost misses it. It isn’t until the man runs a hand through his curls, tousling them beautifully, that he sees it. There’s a matching gold ring on his finger. A knot grows in his throat as he takes in the lovesick smile this man is directing at his future self, who still hasn't noticed that he's no longer alone. 

There's no way this man is his soulmate and husband. He could never be that lucky. The universe hates Henry Fox, why else would it take away his beloved dad but leave ancient Mary and let her send his family into ruins? It wouldn’t give him a man who looks like a perfect goddamn spectre of Henry’s hottest wet dreams come to life. This has to be a sick joke. Hysterical theories run through his head, speculating that this man is just a guest who’s a friend, or a colleague, or even a bloody burglar - never mind the fact that he walked in like he owns the place and is currently looking at Future Henry like he wants to eat him.

His brain just can’t shut the hell up until finally the man moves, slowly sneaking up on the blond who's now leaning on the island and scrolling on his phone, humming to the music that's still playing softly. The peaceful atmosphere of the kitchen is pierced by an undignified shriek as he’s grabbed from behind in a tight hug, the tan man muffling his deep laughter into his neck. 

Fucking hell. He really is-

“Christ, Alex, you bloody demon! You can't do that to me!” Even as he scolds him there's a radiant gummy smile spreading across his future self’s face, made even wider as the other presses kisses against his neck in between chuckles. Alex. The name settles into Henry’s heart like an animal claiming its lifelong den. There's butterflies in his stomach as he repeats the name over and over in his head, and they take frenzied flight when he hears the man (Alex) speak for the first time. 

“Sorry darlin’, I can't help it. It’s your fault for being so fuckin’ cute when you get scared.” His voice is deliciously deep, an American accent with a southern twang that unexpectedly goes straight to Henry’s groin. He'd always found Southern accents slightly comedic (especially when they're almost too heavy to understand), but this one just makes his heart race. He has to reach up and grab his burning cheeks with his perpetually cold hands to try to cool them. 

David, who had jumped up and started barking excitedly when Alex made his presence known, refuses to quiet down until he’s lifted and cradled gently, Alex cooing and smooching his soft head. His other dad steps away to check on the soup, and without turning around says, “No, my love, he just had a treat.” just as he reaches for the jar. Alex pouts and while past Henry would've crumpled immediately to the doe eyes he throws at his partner, the blond at the stove just throws back a stern look over his shoulder at both pleading man and pup.

“You can give him some apple slices with his dinner, but no more treats. He's already a little overweight, remember? Because someone keeps giving him cheese when he thinks I'm not looking.” Alex looks only slightly chastised, throwing his hand against his forehead dramatically. 

“Don't you think our son deserves good things, baby?” Baby makes past Henry shiver, embarrassingly half-hard in his pajama pants now. He’s a very weak man, especially for a handsome face combined with a charming personality. David wiggles excitedly in Alex’s arms as if corroborating his antics, jumping to lick his face and making him laugh delightedly before he’s finally set down. Future Henry shakes his head and chuckles as he turns the stove on low and comes back to Alex. Arms immediately wrap around each other as if magnetized, their foreheads pressing together as they both breathe each other’s scent. 

“Of course I do, that's why I gave him one earlier.” He murmurs, a soft smile on his lips as Alex rubs their noses together. 

“ Mmm, why don't you give me a treat, corazón?” Their lips meet in a chaste kiss as the two revel in being reunited after a long day. Then one kiss turns into two, two turns into five; soon hands are roaming and tongues are delving into each other's mouths, both men making soft, hungry noises. 

Alex swiftly turns them around and presses Henry into the counter, one hand tight on the exposed skin at his hip and the other gripping his face to devour him. The pitiful whine his husband makes only spurs him further, licking deeply into his mouth as he grapples at Alex’s shoulders like he doesn't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. The last thing past Henry sees before he’s unable to keep from burying his beet red face in his hands is Alex going for his Henry’s neck, groaning and muttering filthy nothings into his skin.

The two are already lost in each other, completely unaware of their accidental audience, who currently is deep in a state of denial. For years, he’s dreamed of this; A soulmate who loves him, who comes home excited to see him after a long day and kisses him sweetly. A man who's beautiful and kind, who adores David, and who so clearly wants him.

This whole vision so far has felt like it's too good to be true, like any second he's going to be told he's on a prank show and it'll all be ripped away from him just like his family. And now? Both men in front of him (one of whom is himself, Christ) have gone from a normal domestic couple to debauched and obscene in record time. Covering his face obviously has no effect on his hearing, and the sounds of himself whimpering along with the slick noises of Alex’s mouth on his skin are making his head spin. Henry feels like has whiplash from the filthy turn it's taken and is somehow so turned on by it all, fully hard and leaking in his briefs.

“Darling, dinner’s about to be ready-” Future Henry’s cut off with a choked gasp as sharp canines dig into the side of his throat. 

“I know. Albondigas? You spoil me, baby.” Alex refuses to let go of his captured bounty for even a second, muttering his replies into Henry’s skin between frantic kissing and biting. “So good to me, aren't you? Smells fuckin’ amazing, but I think I’m hungry for something else now.” Henry is melting like ice in the desert under his attention, his head tipped back and body already limp in broad arms. His weak protests about dinner disappear completely as Alex easily lifts him onto the kitchen counter and practically tears off his apron and sweater. 

“Fuckin’ love seeing you in your cute little apron. ‘M so lucky I got to you before anyone else, got to wife you up and claim you as mine, didn’t I? Got myself a pretty boy who wears pretty things just for me.” Alex’s roaming hands are impatiently caught between pinching Henry’s nipples and groping down the back of his pants as far as he can reach. All his husband can do is moan and push into his hands. 

Are they really going to- right here in the kitchen?

“Yes, yes, ‘m all yours my love.” Henry gets out between panting gasps, fisting his hands in chocolate curls and greedily pulling Alex’s lips back to his own. He sucks slowly on his lower lip before giving it a playful nip, revelling in the shudder that goes through the other’s body. He knows just how much Alex loves kissing, can spend hours with his lips pressed to Henry’s until both of their mouths are swollen and tender.

At least he can when he’s not particularly worked up the way he is now, his kisses frantic and hands pawing at his husband like it’s his last chance. He seems to lose patience and drags Henry back off the counter, ripping his joggers off on the way. Turning him around and pushing at the small of his back to bend him over the island at the speed of light, just like that past Henry is face to face with his wide-eyed future self only a few feet away on the other side of the counter. 

His wide-eyed future self who’s now completely bare except for a pair of… panties?? Henry’s jaw drops as he takes in the black lacy fabric stretched across his hips. By the looks of it (not that he’s an expert on lingerie, he’s certainly never guiltily browsed male lingerie websites in an incognito tab…) a nice pair that must've cost a pretty penny. And what an image they make, stark against pale skin. The sides are held together with thin strings tied into bows, and he looks so pretty in them that Henry’s immediate urge to sprint out of the room when confronted with one of his more shameful fantasies is curbed momentarily, unable to look away from the intricately woven fabric. 

Alex’s hands on the other blond’s body start to move and Henry nearly jumps out of his skin, somehow having forgotten the other man in the room. The man who’s in the same room as his future self and, apparently, his future panties.

The humiliation that rushes up his throat is inevitable. The idea of wearing sexy, delicate undergarments is something that he’s only ever entertained in private, hidden from everyone else at all costs. He couldn’t even begin to imagine Mary’s reaction to hearing that he not only likes men, but he also dreams of dressing in something pretty and strappy for one and getting showered with devotion. He’s never even told Pez, his best mate who would never dream of judging him and who owns plenty of lingerie and feminine clothing themself. In fact Pez would be over the moon with the way they’re constantly nagging Henry to have more fun with his wardrobe and “stop dressing like a bloody librarian all the time, poppet.” 

He’s never been brave enough to even buy some, let alone actually feel comfortable trying them on, and the idea of his soulmate seeing him exposed in lingerie is nearly enough to send his soul to another dimension. But of course, like every other preconception he’s come here with, his expectations are shattered in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You look fucking delectable. Even prettier in person.” Henry wants to hide his face in his hands again but he can’t look away. Alex’s deep drawl calling him pretty is making him ache. He sneaks a hand into his lap to squeeze his leaking bulge and stifles a whimper. Alex is groaning deliriously, finally detaching himself to lean back far enough to get an eyeful. Licking his lips, his hands stroke softly over the bows tied on his husband’s hips. Henry doesn’t know what the view from behind looks like but it must be good considering the way he bites his full lower lip and stares greedily. 

Future Henry is burning red at his sudden vulnerability, almost stark naked in the middle of the kitchen and bent over the island he had been cleaning ten minutes ago, but he clears his throat and tries to regain some footing.

“Enjoyed those photos I sent, did you?”

“If by enjoyed you mean had an indecent hard for half of the day, then fuck yeah I did. I didn’t even have time to rub one out on my lunch break, you tease.” His Henry pouts.

“You weren’t supposed to anyways. You should be saving all of that for me-” He startles with a yelp as Alex slaps his ass hard. Past Henry flinches as well, practically feeling the echo of the sting of his huge hand. His cock throbs and leaks even more, hurtling closer and closer to the edge.

“Darling?” Future Henry asks hesitantly as the shorter man covers his entire back with his body again, burying his face in Henry’s shoulder. 

“Hmm, mi amor?” Alex's reply is more of a rumble than anything as he takes deep whiffs of Henry’s scent, scraping his scruff all over his broad shoulders and neck like a cat scent-marking his territory. His hands are still rubbing all over the panties, the sound of skin on lace loud in the quiet of the kitchen; David has retreated to another room, the playlist has ended, and the soup is barely bubbling on low heat.

“Don’t you want to take this to the bedroom? Or even the couch- oh!” Alex’s lips only detach from his skin once there’s an angry hickey blooming right under his ear, impossible to be covered up. 

“Nah, too far. I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day, baby…” Alex smirks as Henry trembles slightly in his arms, hips involuntarily pushing back against the body behind him. One tan hand spans his entire lower abdomen and holds him securely while the other slips lower, rubbing his thigh and ghosting past his twitching bulge. 

“And it’s all your fucking fault, zorrita. Teasing me this morning, standing right here in this exact spot.” 

That morning…

Alex glances at the time and lets loose a litany of curses, ignoring his rock hard erection and practically falling out of bed to book it for the bathroom. Instead of laying there enjoying his post orgasm haze, Henry waits for the shower to start before he gets up and slips into a lethal combination; Alex’s favorite silk pajama shorts (which he may or may not have had to replace several times) and one of his old lacrosse sweaters from college. He stretches languidly, body deliciously sore and still thrumming from the pleasure of his husband’s thick fingers. He had warned Alex that they didn’t have much time but the stubborn man had insisted. Unsurprisingly (and not for the first time), he completely lost track of time taking Henry apart and has now been left unsatisfied. How unfortunate.

Padding into the kitchen and turning on the coffee pot, Henry swiftly whips up some scrambled eggs and chorizo so that Alex can at least get some food in him before a long day at work. He hadn’t cleaned up before getting dressed and the sticky feeling of lube leaking out of his loose hole makes him squirm as he stands at the stove. Exposed by his tiny shorts, there’s no doubt visible streaks shining on his inner thighs. His stomach swoops, feeling filthy and whorish in the best way. Keeping a close eye on the clock (he’s learned the absolute fastest Alex can do his extensive shower and morning routine is 14 minutes), he rolls up a breakfast burrito and takes out the lunch he’d packed last night. 

Last but certainly not least, coffee in Alex’s ridiculously large thermos. At least Henry had convinced him to stop adding extra shots of espresso with guilt trips about how he’ll leave Henry as a lonely widower if he dies of a caffeine overdose. Perfect for his plan, the thermos is in a lower cupboard with a perfect view from the kitchen doorway. His stomach swoops again with arousal and anticipation.

Right on time, Alex rushes into the kitchen, intending on grabbing coffee and leaving with just enough time for his walk to work, only to stop dead in his tracks and gape like a fish out of water. Henry straightens back up from bending over and smiles sweetly at him, the morning light streaming through the windows illuminating him like a nymph. 

“I made you breakfast to eat on the way, darling. Let me just get your coffee and you’re all set. Don’t forget to grab your lunch as well.” He gestures to the burrito and tupperware at the edge of the counter before turning away to sprinkle cinnamon into the thermos and fill it with fresh coffee. Alex has barely just scraped his jaw off the ground and wiped drool off his chin before the thermos and burrito are shoved into his hands and his lunch is placed in the bag slung over his shoulder.

Henry takes advantage of his stupor and quickly wheels him out of the kitchen with a gentle, “Don’t want you to be late, love.” and an air of innocence that Alex knows he doesn’t possess. He’s already about to open the front door by the time Alex’s body catches up. His coffee and burrito are ditched on the entryway table in a fraction of a second, hands grabbing his husband in a vice grip and pulling him to his chest. 

“Baby.” A petulant whine, Alex’s eyes smoldering with the look that’s often the reason they’re both late to work. His hands slip under the back of the shorts and grope Henry’s plump arse greedily, long fingers pressing into the bruises he left there the night before. He quickly finds the sticky remnants of their earlier fun and moans, tortured. 

“You fucking whore, Henry.” The whore in question musters up all his will to break eye contact, cheeks burning as his legs grow weak. Every bone in his body wants to drop to his knees and worship Alex in all his glory, looking like a wet dream in his perfectly pressed suit, but he must stay strong. If all goes to plan he’ll be getting the railing of his life tonight, and the wait will only make it even better.

“You’ll be late, Alex. You need to leave now, or Zahra will have your head.” Alex can only groan in agony again, dropping his head forward to Henry’s shoulder. 

“Don't bring up Zahra when I’m so hard I could cut diamonds, Hen. You're such a fucking cocktease.” His hands don't let up for even a second, taking his fill while it lasts. 

“When I get home tonight I’m gonna push you to the ground and fuck you into the floor wherever I find you.” Muttered lowly with bared teeth against the skin of his throat, the vibrations send shivers up Henry’s spine. He adores riling up Alex like this, pushing him to get rough and mean in bed. It only makes it all the more sweet when they're finished and trembling after, and broad arms wrap around him securely while sweet nothings are whispered against his skin. Pure fondness overtakes his arousal for just a moment.

“I want nothing more, dearest. Be safe and hurry home to me, alright?” He presses a soft kiss to the tense cut of Alex’s jaw and watches his whole being soften, his husband sagging even further into him. The arms wrapped around him squeeze tight and Alex presses a solid kiss to his lips, one more for the road. There's still heat in his eyes when he steps back but it's overshadowed by pure contentment. 

“I fucking love you, baby. Love of my goddamn life.” Even after almost a decade together those words still make Henry’s stomach flutter and he can’t help the lovesick smile that spreads across his face.

“I love you too darling, so much. Have a good day.”

“You too, cariño. Don't have too much fun without me, yeah?” Alex winks roguishly and Henry rolls his eyes, turning away to hide his blush and grabbing Alex’s abandoned breakfast off the table.

“Wouldn't dream of it, love.”

Henry sees Alex off and chuckles as he twists around every few seconds to make stupid faces or blow kisses until he's out of view. He sighs dreamily, enjoying the fresh air for a few more minutes before heading back inside to enjoy his day off. He’s only a chapter into a new thrilling mystery/romance recommendation from June, and he still needs to unpack his latest order from his favorite lingerie website. Maybe he’ll send his husband some pictures to tide him over until the evening.

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 “Did you think I didn’t know exactly what you were fucking doing? Getting me riled up so that I could fuck you just the way you want?” Henry bows his head, whimpering and jerking as another hard slap lands on his other asscheek. 

“You couldn’t just tell me what you want, huh baby? Couldn’t just ask me to be mean and fuck you until you can’t walk? To throw you around and treat you like my little fucktoy?” Alex whispers hotly in his crimson ear, nibbling on it while his hands pluck hard at pink nipples. Past Henry reaches up to pinch his own in unison, watching his future self’s eyes flutter and wishing so badly to take his place. The other Henry moans and pushes back harder into his husband, demanding without words for what he’s wanted all day. If he thinks he'll get it that easily, well-

“Uh uh uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A blunt nail scrapes harshly against his nipple while another holds his hips in place, unable to move. There’s a cruel smirk on Alex’s face as Henry whines brattily and turns to look over his shoulder with a glare. 

“You know damn well what I want, Claremont-Diaz.” He tries to push his hips back again and Alex lets him this time, leaning back and watching his plumpness grind enticingly against his bulge. Past Henry, watching with an eagle eye as he rubs himself through his pants, can clearly see a tan hand sneaking to the front of his panties. An embarrassing whimper slips from his lips as he watches Alex cruelly dig his thumbnail into the leaking head of his husband’s cock through the lace at the same time that he abuses his poor nipple again. Henry cries out and doubles over, or at least tries to before Alex fists his hair and tugs his head back, craning his neck to look back at him with wide blue eyes. 

“And I think you can use your words and fucking beg for it, Fox.” He's grinding his hips steadily against Henry’s ass now, huffing appreciatively. Henry reaches behind his back to scrabble for his belt frantically and his lithe wrists are grabbed with one hand almost immediately. Alex holds them to the small of his back easily, continuing his grinding and chuckling when Henry growls and struggles against his grip.

“What the fuck did I just say, princesa? You either beg for this cock or you’re not getting any at all.” He lets go of his hair to pull aside the thin string of Henry’s panties and groans, licking his thumb and pressing it to his pucker to rub slowly. A smug grin spreads across his face as the blond trembles.

“Already loose and wet, huh? You’ve been playing with this slutty hole by yourself all day? Sitting on your toys and wishing it was me, crying for this big fuckin’ cock?” He presses just the tip of his thumb in and watches his hole twitch needily, trying to suck in more. His husband is still obstinately quiet, head bowed and trying to stifle his whines. This is his favorite part, when his gorgeous stubborn bratty Henry finally breaks and begs more beautifully than anything else he’s ever seen before. Before he has time to process it Alex pulls his hand back and spanks his pretty hole as hard as he knows the blond can take.

Henry practically shrieks, hands grappling helplessly behind his back. Tears well up in his eyes, cock jerking in his panties and leaking fat drops of precum through the delicate fabric. Past Henry’s breath gets caught in his throat as an explosive orgasm rips through his body with no warning. His vision blurs and he’s lightheaded as he massages his bulge helplessly, completely ruining the inside of his briefs. No one’s ever done that to him before. He never realized that would be something he’d want but staring at Alex’s thick fingers he’s drooling, eyes threatening to roll back as he imagines the sweet pain against his most sensitive place. 

“Please, please, oh fuck, Alex-” Henry’s struggling in place, pulling at his arms and revelling in the iron grip still holding his wrists. He’s trembling like a leaf, pushed completely to the end of his rope and whining uncontrollably.

“Please, my love, I need your cock so bad, so bad. I’ve wanted it all fucking day. I want to be your little toy, I want you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, and I want you to make me take it even after that.” Sweet victory fills Alex as he immediately fumbles with his belt and unzips his pants. Henry straightens up on shaky legs only to turn and drop to his knees, nuzzling his straining bulge with pleading eyes. The mocking chuckle that comes from above him melds so sweetly with the hand carding softly through his hair, encouraging him further as he practically rips the buttons of Alex’s shirt open and presses kisses down his abs.

At this point, past Henry is way past being embarrassed at the way he perks up like David when he’s getting a treat. He’s half hard still, cock twitching incessantly in the mess in his briefs and quickly on its way back to full hardness. Alex’s pecs and abs are delicious, the urge to bury his face in his supple chest and lick his adonis belt absolutely torturous. He watches eagerly as his future self mouths and inhales at Alex’s bulge, a tan hand pressing the other’s face into it where Alex surely smells just as delicious as he looks. 

The other Henry moves up to his waistband only to spend a minute sucking a bruise right next to his happy trail. The grip in his hair grows stronger, warning him to move along. Plump lips smile mischievously against the brand new hickey, making Alex shudder in anticipation before pearly teeth close around his waistband. Henry purposefully nips him and pulls the fabric back only to let go and snap it against his skin, giggling at the way Alex’s abdominal muscles jump and his grumpy huff at being teased further. He takes pity on his husband (and fears for his own hide, Alex’s hands are worse than any paddle) and pulls the boxers down with his teeth, relishing in the smack of his cock against his face and the stronger wave of musk that wafts over him. 

The voyeur across the counter can’t help his whine when he finally lays eyes on it. The way his mouth waters should be mortifying but he’s way more interested in the cock that his future self is mouthing hungrily at. He stands up from his seat at the island for the first time in what seems like ages and moves closer on shaky legs, drawn in by the immense gravitational force of that fat shaft. He feels like a lewd twisted version of Cinderella, where instead of a shoe fitting him perfectly it’s a cock that was clearly made for him by the universe. 

Alex is thick . Henry’s got a big cock himself, the subject of appreciation from many a man in his past, but even he blushes at the sheer width that seems almost too big to even fully wrap a hand around. He’s never had a real cock that big (not for lack of trying) and it’s making him feel achingly empty. Factoring in the generous length which had to be at least as long as his own eight inches, and the image Alex makes standing there in the kitchen is almost unbearable. Fully dressed besides his unbuttoned shirt and his pants open to unleash that weapon of mass destruction, while his lover kneels at his feet almost completely bare, he looks like a sex god. Henry is unable to resist gathering his spend on his fingers and pulling down his stained pajama pants and briefs, leaning over the counter and reaching back to rub his fingers over his hole.

Future Henry holds his tongue out eagerly as Alex slaps his leaking cockhead against it a few times before he tightens his fistful of blond hair and shoves into his throat. Blue eyes roll back into his head and he’s unable to suppress a gag, swallowing a few times around the familiar heavy weight before he gets his reflex under control.  Even with his top-tier cocksucking skills Alex always gives him some difficulty with his size, a fact that both of them love. Feeling helpless with his breathing obstructed, just a wet hole for Alex to get off with, never fails to fill his head with cotton and send him floating in the clouds. 

Similarly, past Henry doesn’t realize he’s staring with his mouth hanging open, drool dripping from his bitten-red lips as he fingers his own hole. Unconsciously, his free hand drifts up to his mouth, stuffing three fingers in and beginning to fuck his own mouth. Unable to look away from the thick strands of drool swinging from his own other self’s chin, he sticks his fingers as far as he can down his throat until he gags obscenely. After getting a good look at Alex’s fingers and cock - and what they’re capable of - his own slender fingers in both ends have never felt less satisfying. He’s never been more jealous in his life of another being, and that being happens to be himself, just in the future. Lucky bastard, future Henry seems to be enjoying himself perfectly fine; after edging himself all day, squirming in his panties with his toys never satisfying him the way his darling can, he’s simply mindless and ready for Alex to have his wicked way with him.

His husband, as always, knows exactly what he needs. He fucks into Henry’s mouth at a ruthless pace, letting out curses and praises in equal measure. His normally warm brown eyes are coal black as he hungrily watches the blond choke and gag, tracking over the tears running down flushed cheeks and the spit bubbling around swollen lips. With his free hand he strokes Henry’s cheek, smearing tears, saliva, and precum together to make him even more of a mess. 

“So fucking gorgeous babydoll, stuffed full of cock the way you belong.” He angles Henry’s head to pop his cock into his cheek and thumbs at the bulge it makes, groaning deliriously. The blond’s hazy eyes are making his cock throb warningly, and as much as he’d love to come down his throat and watch him struggle to swallow every last drop or shoot all over his face and rub it into his skin, there’s somewhere else that he’s been aching to bury his load all day. 

He pulls Henry’s head off his cock and admires his fucked out face, lids heavy and mouth hanging slack. Drool drips down his chin and throat and there are tear tracks skating down his perfect cheekbones as he leans forward with a whine, already missing the cock that was abusing his throat. Alex shushes him gently, slapping his dick on his face and letting him nuzzle against it, knowing just how much Henry loves that when he’s in this headspace. Then he gently pulls him to his feet, smacking a kiss to his messy lips before turning him around and bending him over the counter again.

Past Henry is unable to keep from speeding up in his excitement, sneaking in a fourth finger and fucking his hole harder. He can’t stop imagining the thick vein on the underside of Alex’s cock pressed against his insides. His legs are shaking, little whimpers leaking out of his throat that he’s attempting to stifle so that he can hear the other two better. He should be more self conscious, doing this while leaning against the counter less than two feet away from another version of his own body. Objectively this whole vision has been crazy, a far cry from the domestic PG stories he’s read online and especially from his own parents experiences, but he has to shove that thought away before it could even form. Now is not the time to be thinking about them. Instead, he’s focused on the incredible view he has of the other two and the building heat in his core.

The other Henry lays prone as Alex quickly grabs their trusty kitchen lube, leaving his pleasure completely to the other man. He shivers as butterfly kisses are pressed to his shoulders, cock weeping a nonstop stream dripping through his panties to the tiles below. The lace is pulled aside once more as Alex’s fingers return, this time slicked up and sinking easily inside. Starting with two, his thick digits scissor and rub teasingly past his prostate. They don’t press down on it enough to get him closer to the edge, trapping him in a sickly sweet constant cycle of pleasure that builds in his stomach as Alex adds a third finger and then a fourth. 

He doesn’t usually use four fingers unless he either really wants to torture Henry or is going to fuck him hard enough to be overly cautious with prep. This seems to be both, Henry thinks, hearing a dark chuckle ring out behind him his legs shake and his eyes roll back. He can hardly hear the pathetic noises he’s making, incoherent whines mixed with muddled pleas, through the pounding of blood in his ears as the pressure coiling tight in his core threatens to snap. He only wants to come on Alex’s cock but as they both know very well, he can come untouched almost laughably easily on those magic fingers. 

He reaches back weakly to try to grab Alex’s wrist and beg again but before he can even get a word out the fingers are moving faster, nails scraping cruelly across his sweet spot. Hunching into himself and sobbing, body tensing up and hips fucking himself on Alex’s fingers as he hurtles towards that sweet cliff of release, and just as he’s centimeters away Alex finally withdraws and lubes himself up.

“Oh, god-” Henry nearly wails in both disappointment and relief, quivering as the cock he’s been aching for is finally pressed against him. Alex doesn’t seem to want to take pity on him quite yet though, rubbing his cock idly at his entrance and whistling at the lewd view. His husband’s little pink hole is all puckered and wet , twitching against the tip of his cock. It's one of his favorite fucking views in the world. He teases for a few seconds, sticking his cock under the strap of Henry’s panties and thrusting against his plush ass. His cock is leaking like a waterfall, leaving sticky glistening streaks all over his pale skin. 

Past Henry wants to cry in frustration, his body so desperate for something bigger and longer than his fingers. They’re not nearly enough to satisfy him but all he can do is watch and use his imagination, wishing he could reach out and grab Alex’s cock himself and guide it to his own hole. The contrast of his tan skin against the milky skin of the other blond, mottled with bruises and handprints, is mouthwatering.

“How bad do you need it, my baby?” Alex almost feels bad teasing Henry further, but his sweetheart is just too beautiful like this. Not a thought in that pretty head besides the overwhelming need for cock, the need for Alex to take care of him. Henry takes such good care of Alex, is the absolute most wonderful partner he could’ve possibly asked for, and Alex is a weak man. He can’t help the way he needs to take care of him in return, to break Henry just the way he wants to be broken. And then he has the wonderful privilege of holding all of his shattered pieces tenderly, and slowly piecing him back together using his undying love as the glue.

Henry is incoherent, half sobbing and too strung out to do anything besides pushing weakly back against his hips. Alex can barely make out his name along with things like “please”, “cock”, and “need”. It seems that in his attempts to rile Alex up all day, the blond worked himself up even more. Poor thing. He notices movement in his peripheral vision and looks up, realizing that he and Henry are reflected in the window across from them. It’s dark outside, the city lights outside far below, and the curtains aren’t drawn. There’s privacy film on them and they’re high up enough that there are hardly any other buildings close enough to see into their apartment, but it still sends shivers down his spine thinking about it. If anyone was watching, he’d be sure to give them a damned good show.

Past Henry follows his gaze and gapes at the reflection in the open windows. It was one thing for him to be watching, basically an invisible ghost, and it was another to see that they’re basically fucking right out in the open, with Alex watching their reflection like he’s his own voyeur.

Alex’s cock finally pushes into Henry’s needy hole, a smooth slide down to the root. He skillfully grinds his cock into all of his sweet spots on the way, knowing his husband’s body better than his own. The second Alex has completely bottomed out, he slides a hand around to cover Henry’s lower abdomen and presses down. He groans, rubbing at the bump of his own cock deep in Henry’s body. At the same time, he wrenches Henry’s head up and watches his reflection predatorily. 

As expected, the blond lets out a strangled scream and tenses up, cumming thick ropes all over his panties. Manicured fingers claw at the counter, eyes rolling back in his head and drool running out of his slack mouth. His legs are trembling so hard that Alex has to grip his hip firmly with his free hand, holding his body weight up. He thrusts slowly, letting Henry ride out his orgasm and enjoying the rhythmic clench of his muscles around Alex’s cock.

Mindless and completely fucked out, Henry collapses limply across the island. His head is completely fogged over and all he can think or feel is the man behind him and the cock he’s impaled on. He’s floating on cloud nine, and it takes a minute for him to hear what Alex is saying to him. Gentle hands are rubbing up and down his sides, helping him come back to reality just slightly.

“-etheart. So perfect for me. That felt good, huh?” Alex is pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and neck, murmuring lowly. “Can I get a color, baby?” 

Henry can’t help the delirious smile that spreads across his face. He loves this man with every fiber of his being. His voice is scratchy and slurred when he finally finds the strength to speak. 

“Green, darling, so fucking green. Now give me that fucking cock that I begged for.” He can feel the feral grin that Alex makes behind him, one last kiss pressed to a mole on his spine before the other man straightens back up. The only warning he gets is two hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, thumbs pressing perfectly into the dimples on his back. 

The first thrust is enough to knock any air he’d managed to recover straight back out of his lungs and from there he’s no longer Henry Fox, only Alex’s fleshlight. His ragged pants and moans fill the air, catching in his throat as he gasps desperately with each rough thrust. The smacking of Alex’s toned pelvis against the fat of his ass makes his toes curl, each punch of the cock inside him almost nauseatingly good. Past Henry is teasing the tip of his cock, letting out desperate little moans as he tries to keep himself from coming but can’t help from pushing closer and closer to climax.

“Look at you, putita.” Alex is grunting, his teeth bared in a snarl as he stares at the defenseless man falling apart on the end of his cock. His deep voice is shaky and ragged from the force he’s putting into his thrusts. His second orgasm is nearing embarrassingly quickly and he silently curses his husband for edging him all day, slapping his ass again and squeezing the red handprint he leaves behind. “This is all you needed, right? Just needed to be stuffed full and taken care of, needed your husband to come home to you and fuck you right here in the kitchen before I even had dinner, huh?” 

Henry wails as Alex somehow speeds up, his legs completely useless under his body weight. He’s already so close again, teetering on the brink as his cock rubs against the lace of his panties. The edge of the cliff is right in sight, but when he reaches a hand down to touch himself his wrist is caught in an iron grip and wrenched behind him. 

“No! Ah, ah, ah please, please, I’m so close, Alex…” He sobs, eyes crossing and tongue lolling as Alex nails his prostate head on. His husband soothes him, leaning down to mouth at his throat. 

“Just a little longer, baby.” Alex moans between messy kisses and bites, thrusts becoming shaky as he nears the edge. “Just let me fill that pretty pussy up and then I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Please, let me make you mine-” His movements grow frantic. 

“Yes, yes, fill me up - oh! - ah, yes, give it to me, ah, Alex yesyesyes-” Henry begs him so beautifully and Alex would rather snap his own neck than deny him anything-

Alex presses against Henry from head to toe, sinking his teeth into the nape of his neck and just unloads. He’s keening, eyes rolled back and drooling against the skin of his pale throat as Henry milks his cock with his tight hole. Alex doesn’t know how long he spends humping desperately against him to push his cum as deep as it can go. When he’s finally able to unlatch his teeth from his skin he apologetically licks the huge angry-looking red imprint left behind.

Henry reaches back weakly to pet his hair, whispering praise under his breath with his shredded vocal cords. His whole body is buzzing, the entire world reduced down to the man behind him and the points where their bodies are connected. He whimpers piteously when Alex gently pulls out, the Latino cursing under his breath at the sight of his stretched hole oozing cum and leaking down his thighs. 

“Alex, please-” Henry’s still hard in his ruined panties, so close to the edge but having been denied once again. He’s too weak to do anything but lay there and beg and lean into it desperately when tan fingers intertwine with his own and Alex presses up against his back once more. 

“Shhh, doll. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I got you, baby.” Kisses are pressed to the moles dotted like stars across smooth pale skin as he begins moving down Henry’s back. Henry’s panties are finally slipped down his thighs as Alex kneels down, passing slowly over the beloved dimples near the bottom of his spine, and stares reverently at his wrecked husband.  Entire body twitching, unable to make any noise except choked little whimpers, legs shaking like a newborn lamb with his hole gaped and Alex’s cum running down his legs; what more could a man ask for? And now, like any delicious meal, he gets to enjoy his dessert. He spreads Henry’s asscheeks, licking his lips.

Past Henry gasps out loud as he realizes what Alex is about to do. Yet another thing that no one’s ever done to him before, mainly because it felt much too intimate - and also because most of his casual hookups barely care about his pleasure. He slowly withdraws his fingers from his hole, instead just rubbing over his rim with the wet tips.

Alex presses his face into Henry’s ass and inhales wolfishly for a second, making him squeak before he uses his practiced tongue and laps broad strokes against his hole. Henry’s fist slams weakly across the counter as he cries out, weakly pressing back against Alex’s tongue. Alex licks long teasing stripes up from his perineum past his hole, repeating over and over until a shaking hand fists into his curls and yanks him forward. 

Going all in, he truly buries his face in his husband’s plush ass, forgoing breathing to slip his tongue inside and suck on his swollen rim. He comes up for air only to hold him open and spit filthily onto his sloppy hole. His hands alternate between groping at Henry’s ass, pinching the marks he’s left on it, and grazing up and down his back just to see the full body shudder it causes.  There’s no stopping him, devouring Henry’s hole until the blond is thrashing and wheezing in his grip, driven to insanity from his hole being played with. His poor cock, leaking a constant stream of precum, is nearly purple from neglect. The skin of his asscheeks is turning bright red from Alex’s beard, making him even more sensitive.

Past Henry is shaking, barely able to keep standing as he fists his cock and rubs at his hole the same way Alex is doing with his tongue. It’s impossible to take his eyes off him, unabashedly suffocating himself with his Henry’s ass and moaning like he’s at a five star restaurant. He’s been on the knife’s edge for so long he feels almost numb, his toes cramping from curling so hard. It’s not enough, he just needs- he needs-

“Come for me, my perfect little slut, all mine. Make a mess of those fuckin’ cabinets, show me how good I make you feel.” Alex pulls away just long enough to hiss into his skin before he dives back in, one hand smacking Henry’s abused ass again while the other sneaks a finger into his hole to massage his prostate. This time when Henry comes it’s with only one loud broken keening gasp, his entire body tensing and relaxing in intervals. Alex keeps licking faithfully, free hand pulling Henry’s hips to rock against his face as he carries him through his orgasm once again.

 Past Henry lets out a noise he’s never heard himself make before as he collapses over the counter, his cock pulsing thick ropes of cum all over the cabinet in front of him. His vision is blurred from tears as his legs finally give out, sliding down the cabinet he just dirtied and slumping on the floor. As he lays there curled up, the thundering of blood in his ears slowly calming and the sounds of Alex crooning sweet nothings to his Henry slowly filtering through, he feels the overwhelming urge to cry. Out of sadness that he’s going back to a time where he’s alone, somehow already used to Alex’s proximity even though the man was never once aware of his presence. Out of happiness that he has a soulmate - that one of his biggest dreams since he was a child has come true and the reality is better than he could have ever imagined. Out of fear - fear that this all truly was some wild loneliness-induced hallucination; a man like Alex couldn’t truly exist, right? How could he be so completely perfect and still human? 

As tears leak from his eyes, the sounds of the other two men moving catches his attention again. He sits up and leans against the island, uselessly wiping at his endless stream of tears and looking up just in time to watch Alex walk past, a barely conscious future Henry bundled up in his arms. He’s still murmuring sweet nothings, cooing something about a bath and cuddles to his husband with the gooiest, most besotted look he’s ever seen on anyone in his life on his face. Henry lets his head fall back against the cabinet as he savors this last look at the man who was surely secretly a god hiding amongst humans. As Alex and his Henry disappear down the hall, the world blurs and goes black.

Henry blearily blinks awake, wincing at the morning light shining directly on his face. He sits up in a daze, back in his flat with Pez. The rain has stopped, the day outside bright and the sun high in the sky. A lot higher than it usually is when Henry wakes up. He feels around for his phone, wrestling it from where it was tangled up and checking the time. 12 pm. Bloody hell. He’d slept for around 9 hours, easily the most sleep he’s gotten in months, or maybe even years. Even on the rare occasions he’s able to fall asleep and gets to sleep in, he’s still woken by David for his morning walk and breakfast. Speaking of which-

The door clicks open quietly and the sound of paws quickly click towards him. Snapping his head towards the door, Henry's greeted with a very excited puppy trying to climb onto the loveseat to reach him and a very amused looking Pez, who leans against the doorframe dressed in a magenta bonnet, a leopard print apron and a small pair of shorts that Henry knows reads “JUICY” across the ass in sequins. Pez chuckles at the sight Henry makes, disoriented and sleep rumpled with his hair sticking every which way and red marks on his face. 

“Had quite the beauty sleep, didn’t you? Don’t worry, I fed and walked our little darling so you could get some extra shut-eye.” Henry absentmindedly thanks them as he reaches down to pick his whining puppy up, cradling him. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, processing everything that he’s seen. Pez frowns at his silence and the far away look on his face.

“Poppet, are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?” Henry can’t stop the words that spill out of his mouth in response.

“Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually.” He regrets it almost immediately, the concerned look on Pez’s face shifting to a shit eating grin that has Henry groaning and burying his face in his pillow. David hardly reacts to his jostling, too busy finding the perfect spot curled up next to him. 

“Ohhh, what a delight! You have to tell me all the naughty details, darling. Come now, I’ve made some delicious French toast for my sleeping beauty!” 

“No, you ordered delicious French toast for your sleeping beauty.” Henry replied dryly, still obediently getting up and grabbing some clean clothes before padding out of his room. It does smell delicious and he desperately needs some sugar and tea to help him process. “If you had made it I wouldn’t have woken up because I would’ve died when our apartment burned down.” He makes it to the bathroom fast enough to dodge the bonnet when Pez chucks it at him, and it tickles a laugh out of him that he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop from turning into a hysterical outburst of laughter. There’s a sense of euphoria rising in him, growing tenfold every time he thinks of Alex. He wonders what he’s doing, where he is, who he’s with. There’s a burst of jealousy as he thinks about all the people Alex must be sleeping with right now as a hot college student, but it’s quickly overshadowed by a stirring in his pants. 

He’ll be mine soon enough, Henry reasons as he leans back against the door, a hand slipping down to palm himself through his pants. He’s thankful his pajamas are dark and thick, no visible stains on the front despite the mess that lay underneath. A nice hot shower to get cleaned up and get his brain straight sounds euphoric, especially with all of the new fantasy material he has to enjoy himself with. Part of him wants to feel guilty about masturbating over a virtual stranger, but the other part - the part that’s been much more vocal in the last few years - scoffs at that. He’s not a stranger, he’s Henry’s, in every possible way.

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Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz is everything . He’s shorter than Henry and has a complex about it. He’s got gorgeous curls that Henry desperately wants to wrap around his fingers. He’s got an adorable tiny gap between his two front teeth that Henry’s already obsessed with. He’s got delectable biceps, perfectly on display in his tight black tee since he insisted on Henry wearing his jacket to replace the cardigan he spilled coffee all over (his long-winded reasoning being something about how the coffee stains aren’t visible on his t-shirt, Henry was too distracted with his nose buried in the collar). He’s got a bisexual flag pin on his backpack, right next to an anarchy pin, an American flag pin, and a Bad Bunny pin. God, Mary would hate his guts. Henry wants to marry him immediately.

He’s got Henry sitting here, skipping his Narrative Theory class, in a coffee shop that has truly awful tea, listening to him talk about redlining in the NYC boroughs for the last half an hour, after Alex ran into him and spilled an enormous cup of coffee on him. And yet, there’s absolutely nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

Alex seems to realize that Henry’s hardly said a word in a while and flushes bashfully, the color complimenting his tan skin beautifully. 

“Shit- fuck, uh, I’m sorry, that was probably super boring for you to listen to. Uhm, a lot of people have told me I have problems with shutting the fuck up. It just kind of slips my mind when I get into talking about something, I don’t realize that I should stop. I’m sorry, please just tell me whenever you want me to stop talking, and I’ll remember. Oh, like I should now-” Henry can’t stand for another self-deprecating word to leave his plush, perfect lips. He leans across the table, closing his eyes.

Alex flushed and wide-eyed, fingers brushing his lips reverently with his eyes glued to Henry’s mouth as Henry leans back is a much more welcome sight than him stumbling nervously over an unnecessary apology. Henry can’t help the gummy smile that spreads across his lips and watches with a blush as the other man softens even further, a lovestruck look covering his face as he sways forward closer to Henry. 

“Alex, darling?” His hand reaches forward on the table and covers Alex’s, who immediately turns it over to intertwine their fingers. A memory of their same hands intertwined, but with gold glinting on their ring fingers flashes through his mind and his heart stutters.

“Yeah, baby?” Alex is leaning forward more, on Henry’s side of the table now with his eyes flickering desperately down to his lips. Ahhh, baby. Henry licks his lips and watches Alex’s pupils dilate, tracking the movement with the focus of a predator. Heat pools in his stomach. He leans forward, only inches from Alex’s face.

“What was that you were saying, about the color-coded grades for loans for prospective buyers?” He watches with delight as Alex’s eyes widen and his jaw drops in complete shock. He stutters for a few seconds before he’s able to reboot and snap out of it, lifting Henry’s hand to his lips and pressing kisses all over his hand.

“Baby, please let me take you home with me, oh my god. I’ll do anything.” It’s Henry’s turn to flush now. He looks away coyly, the anticipation that’s built up threatening to spill over. Alex’s grip tightens on his hand and the man honest to god whimpers pleadingly. It’s quiet in the bustle of the coffee shop, heard only by them, but deafening to Henry’s ears. He looks up through his lashes at Alex, revelling in the way his eyes darken as he bites his lip, and whispers, the first of many.

“Please, Alex.” 

He’s yanked up out of his seat faster than he can blink, a solid kiss planted on his lips before Alex grabs both of their bags and drags him outside. Rushing down the sidewalk clinging to each other and giggling as the apathetic pedestrians around them glare or roll their eyes, the two begin their lives together.