Archive of Our Own

Alex is eating a sandwich, minding his damn business, when Henry bursts through the door and says, in a very matter-of-fact tone: “I’m abstaining from sex. Forever.”

Alex squints up at his roommate.

“Okay,” he says. “I believe you.”

Henry stares at him for a long beat.

“You don’t believe me.”

Alex chews on his sandwich, thoughtfully.

“I mean,” he says. “It’s not really any of my business, but you have, like, a shit ton of sex, man. Not slut-shaming or whatever, a healthy sex life is good and all that. But it is a little hard to imagine you going cold turkey and quitting altogether—just like that.”

Henry sits down at the table, a frown on his handsome face.

“So, you don’t think I can do it?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Alex corrects. “Like I said, it’s your sex life. Doesn’t matter how much or how little you have of it, as long as that’s what you want. If you’re quitting, then that’s cool. I support you.”

He takes another bite of his sandwich.

“But what spurred this on?”

“Hm?”

“The sudden denouncement of sex,” Alex elaborates and Henry’s frown only creases deeper.

“My one-night stand last night,” Henry says. “He…”

Alex puts down his food. “Did he do something to you?” He asks.

Henry shakes his head. “No. He didn’t do anything. But the sex was just really…unpleasant,” he grimaces. “Like really unpleasant.”

“Like how unpleasant?” Alex asks, the tension leaving his body somewhat.

“Really unpleasant as in he came within thirty seconds and didn’t even pretend to want to get me off,” Henry says, dropping his head into his hands. “And he told me he loved me right after.”

Alex whistles. “Wow.”

“He wanted me to meet his mother, Alex. His bloody mother.”

“Well,” Alex says, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “At least you made a lasting impression. The only thing that lasted that night, apparently.”

Henry groans into his palms and Alex bites back on his mirth, because he is a saint and a good friend.

“So,” Alex slides his half-eaten sandwich in Henry’s direction and leans on his palm, watching the other. “One bad hookup is leading to your celibacy?”

“It’s not just one bad hookup,” Henry says, and nibbles on the sandwich. He has a delicate way of eating; taking every bite carefully and cautiously—like he’s worried about getting crumbs all over himself. It’s probably a byproduct of his posh English upbringing and whatnot. “I’ve been in this spell.”

Alex raises an eyebrow.

“A dry spell? But you have sex all the time. I’m your roommate, remember? I see how many guys you bring home—again, not slut shaming.”

“Yes, but it’s all bad,” Henry shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong but, all the sex is either mediocre at best or downright boring at worst. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had good sex.”

Alex snorts. “Sounds to me like you’re just hard to please.”

“It seems to me,” Henry correct, “that nobody knows how to fuck. Especially alphas.”

“Hey,” Alex protests. “I can fuck very well, thank you very much.”

Henry lets out a graceful huff of incredulity.

“It’s true!” Alex says. “Just ask any past partner of mine. I am a certified wonderful lay.”

Henry raises a brow. “They could be just lying to soothe your ego,” he says.

“Nah, I’m the real deal.”

“Big talk.”

Henry sets down the sandwich with a challenging look in his eye. He doesn’t normally get like this—competitive and wound up to a tight coil—but the lack of mind-blowing orgasms must be taking a toll on him. He doesn’t look away from Alex and Alex, for some reason, can’t bring himself to tear his own eyes away.

Henry’s eyes are nearly golden in the kitchen light.

“So many alphas are all useless posturing and big promises, until you actually get them in bed. Then, they’re always chasing after their own pleasure and leaving you high and dry.”

“So many alphas, maybe,” Alex concedes, before flashing a smirk. “But not me, sweetheart.”

“Shockingly,” Henry says, coolly. “I still find it hard to believe. In our one year of being roommates, I haven’t seen you bring a single person over. Not one.”

“Hey, I’m not slut-shaming you, so don’t prude-shame me. Law school is just kicking me in the ass,” Alex whines, slumping a bit. “It’s hard to get a relationship.”

“You don’t need a relationship to have sex,” Henry says. “I don’t.”

Alex tilts his head, considering. It’s true, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Henry have a guy over longer than one night. He’s certainly never had a boyfriend, at least not in the year that Alex has known the other.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fair point.”

Henry takes another bite of the sandwich, chewing morosely. “What I wouldn’t give to have at least one good night, to meet someone who can actually make me orgasm.”

A lightbulb clicks on in Alex’s head, just then.

“I can do it,” he blurts out.

Henry blinks at him. “What?”

“I can have sex with you.”

Henry stares.

“I’m sorry but I don’t recall asking you to have sex with me,” he says, in a considerably strained voice.

Alex shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

“You’ve been having shitty sex for a while now, right? And I’ve been in a dry spell because of law school. I think we both deserve a few good orgasms,” he pauses. “In, like, a platonic, casual, bro way. Just two friends lending each other a helping hand.”

It sounds like a brilliant idea to him, but Henry just stares at him.

Then, he laughs a little.

“Alex,” he says. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. It’s not a bad idea. We both need an outlet: You for your lack of satisfying sexual conquests and me for my school stress. It’s actually kind of perfect.” Also, he kind of wants to prove Henry wrong—when he had claimed that all alphas are selfish pricks in bed. What? Alex is an argumentative, competitive bastard, it can’t be helped.

Henry’s nose crinkles at ‘sexual conquests,’ but another complicated, troubled expression crosses his features at the rest of Alex’s words. He draws his bottom lip in between his teeth and drops his gaze down to the table. Alex watches the skin turn from pink to red, under the ministrations of Henry’s teeth.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You’re really serious,” he breathes out.

Alex nods. “I am. I told you, it’s not a bad idea,” then he frowns. “Are you still doubting my sexual expertise, because I can call Nora right now and have her tell you just how good I am in bed—”

“No,” Henry says, firmly. “And she would never inflate your ego like that.”

He glances back up at Alex.

“But we’re friends,” he says. “And not to mention roommates. Wouldn’t this ruin our friendship?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex shakes his head. “I’m suggesting that we have sex, because we’re friends. We trust each other and we can both mutually help one another out. It would sure beat having to do the whole hookup song-and-dance, right?”

When Henry doesn’t answer, that complicated expression still not quite fading from his face—Alex adds on:

“It’s just a suggestion, Henry. Nothing about my opinion of you will change—whether you take me up on my offer or not.”

He stands and makes his way over to Henry, looking down at him. Henry tilts his head back and meets his gaze, his eyes flashing gold, green, and brown—a kaleidoscope of dizzying shades.

“And what is your opinion of me?” Henry murmurs.

Alex considers him and risks placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. Henry lets him rest it there, his eyes never once leaving Alex’s.

“You’re my friend and my roommate. And I care about you,” Alex says. “Like I would care about any friend.”

For some reason, the words—as true as they may be—feel inadequate. But he doesn’t quite know how to explain Henry in the correct adjectives and nouns; can’t quite string sentences that adequately explain Henry Fox. He’s become a constant in Alex’s life, on a similar level to June and Nora, and he’s someone Alex already can’t picture living without. A friend seems too diluted of a description, but—

What other word was there?

“You’re my friend, Henry,” Alex repeats. “You’ll always be my friend.”

Henry looks at him, then slowly, ever so slowly rests his own hand on top of Alex’s. With a thudding heart, Alex watches as Henry peels Alex’s hand off of his shoulder and takes it in his own. Henry’s hand is warm, littered with writer’s calluses and years of holding polo mallets, and it fits perfectly against Alex’s.

They both watch their hands slot into place, only the slight hum of their fridge breaking the silence between them. Henry’s eyelashes flutter slightly.

“I—” he starts, then shuts his mouth.

“You?” Alex asks, his voice turning raspy by the second.

“I wouldn’t mind if we,” Henry’s thumb traces over Alex’s knuckles, “let off steam with each other. Just as long as it’s, you know,” his eyes are wide, his mouth soft, and Alex’s stomach is twisting itself into knots at the sight. “Casual.”

“Of course,” Alex says. “Casual.”

“I’m not spending my heats with you, though,” Henry says and Alex nods.

He had been expecting that. Most omegas only spent their heats with their partners. Henry always braved through them alone and Alex usually spent Henry’s heats at his sister’s or friends.’ Rarely were casual fuckbuddies ever invited to spend heats with their partners.

“Okay,” Alex says.

“And you’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?” Henry asks.

“Will you tell me?” Alex shoots back and Henry swallows. He nods and Alex agrees too.

“And, if you find that your…opinion of me ever changes,” Henry says, “Please just end it with me.”

Alex raises a brow. “Unless you, like, commit mass murder or suddenly become a bigoted piece of shit, my opinion of you isn’t going to change. We’re friends, Henry.”

At Henry’s look, Alex shakes his head and gives up. “But, okay. I’ll keep your rule in mind. Anything else?”

Henry shakes his head. “It’s just casual,” he repeats, almost to himself, like a mantra.

“Just casual,” Alex echoes.

A week passes since they’ve agreed to have sex, and they have, decidedly, not had sex yet.

Or more accurately, seven days, ten hours, and twenty minutes have passed since Henry had looked up at Alex with those big, doe-eyes and said that he wouldn’t mind if they got each other off. But really, who’s counting? Not Alex.

It’s Friday night and Alex finds himself crowded away in a bar, with his law school friends, celebrating the end of a particularly arduous exam. His friends down shots like vodka is water and their table becomes more rambunctious by the second—the joy of freedom palpable in the air. Alex himself only nurses a rum and coke, smiling genially at the appropriate times and laughing at all the jokes.

He’s a social butterfly by nature, but for some reason, he’s really not feeling it today. It might have to do with how drained he feels, after a whole week of cramming for this test. It might have to do with the lack of sleep that his body is finally registering. Or it might have to do with something else entirely.

“Alex,” a girl pokes at his side and Alex is torn away from his thoughts. He glances to the side and sees his classmate Amber smiling at him. Alex smiles back, politely.

She starts talking about the exam and Alex nods along. When she brushes a hand alongside his forearm and blushes, Alex pauses. Amber’s not a bad person, actually quite witty and pretty. A beta with the brains and the looks—Alex wonders why he isn’t jumping at the chance.

Maybe he was really tired. Or maybe, he was losing his touch. It had been a whole year since he had actively gone on a date or tried pursuing anyone romantically. He’s just too out of practice and too damn exhausted.

24-years-old and already with the mindset of an old man. Alex would laugh at how sad it was, if it wasn’t his own life.

He’s just about to excuse himself and head home, when a voice calls him out to him.

“Alex!”

Alex turns and is greeted with the sight of Pez, Henry’s best friend and an absolute riot of a man. He’s decked out in a shower of sequins and glitter, the whole nine yards. Beside him stands Henry and Alex’s gaze stays glued to him.

Henry’s dressed in a sky-blue button-down, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and cream-colored designer dress pants. And really, only he would wear something that bougie and expensive to a shitty, hole-in-the-wall bar. Alex’s mouth curves into a helpless smile.

Henry, for what it’s worth, looks as placid and put together as ever. But Alex can make out the hints of discomfort in him, from the slight pinch of his mouth to the way his adam’s apple keeps bobbing. His gaze is fixed on the table and Alex glances down, wondering what Henry was looking at. When he can’t figure it out, he looks back up to Henry’s face and finds him looking straight at Alex.

Their eyes meet and Henry arches a brow, coolly, as if asking Alex what he’s looking at. Even though he was looking at Alex first, but whatever.

Alex feels his smile grow wider at the sight and he stands. Amber’s hand is still resting on his forearm and Alex has to subtly shake her off as he stands before his friends.

“Alex, darling, it’s been too long,” Pez croons and sweeps Alex into a brief, fierce hug. Alex laughs and pats him on the back. The whiff of Pez’s familiar whiskey scent fills Alex’s nose, before they pull away.

“You came over like a few days ago,” he reminds Pez and Pez waves him off.

“What are you doing here?” his eyes sparkle. “Is this a party?”

“A round of celebratory drinks since we finished that big exam I was telling you about,” Alex says, his eyes drifting back to Henry’s. “You guys should join.”

“We don’t mean to intrude,” Henry starts, as polite as ever, but Alex’s friends cheerfully welcome him and Pez. Once Alex introduces them, one person even drunkenly shouts: “Alex talks about you all the time, Henry.”

Henry’s cheeks flush a slight shade of pink. “Don’t listen to any of his lies,” he says. “I’m really the cleaner one between the two of us. The bathroom looks like a tornado after Alex gets out of it.”

“It’s not my fault that I have an extensive skincare routine, my face deserves nothing but the best.” Alex sniffs. “And stop airing our dirty laundry out, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

There are no more seats available at their table and Henry looks like he might start toward a nearby empty table to grab a couple more chairs. Alex puts a hand on his shoulder and gently leads him down to Alex’s now vacant seat.

“I got it,” he says and Henry blinks up at him.

Alex ducks away to grab the chairs and Pez thanks him with a flirtatious air kiss. Alex drags his own chair next to Henry, sandwiching himself between Henry and Amber.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Henry says, his stupid accent curling stupidly over that one syllable, and Alex finds himself grinning. Henry squints at him.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks, cautiously. “Is something funny?”

“Nope,” Alex says, cheerfully. He pushes his rum and coke in Henry’s direction. “Want some?”

Henry takes a hesitant sip and makes a pleased sound at what he tastes. He may be able to down half a dozen shots of tequila without even flinching, but Alex knows that he still prefers the taste of sweet cocktails.

“Keep it,” Alex says when Henry tries to push the drink back. “What are you doing here?”

“Bar hopping,” Henry says. He takes a sip of the drink, his full lips wrapping around the straw. He takes a sip and his cheeks hollow out slightly, turning the lines of his face even sharper. More chiseled. Alex’s face feels a little hot, the flush of alcohol finally taking effect, probably.

He leans in a little closer.

“How did your exam go?” Henry asks.

“Easy, of course,” Alex hums, lazily watching a strand of Henry’s hair fall into his eyes. “I didn’t get the last question, but nobody did, so I’m hoping the prof will give us credit back for that.”

Henry’s kaleidoscope eyes brighten and he touches Alex’s wrist with the pads of his fingers. His touch is light, but Alex’s skin itches, his veins buzzing at the feeling of Henry. Damn, maybe he’s tipsier than he thought.

“Congratulations, Alex,” Henry says, sweetly. “You worked so hard.”

Joy curls through Alex and he almost wants to take Henry’s hand in his own—squeezing on tight. He smiles brightly at Henry, instead.

“Thanks.”

“What do you think, Alex?” someone asks and Alex blinks. It’s only then that he realizes that the table had begun some drinking game, while he and Henry had been having their conversation. He hadn’t even heard them explain the rules.

“Uh,” he flounders before shrugging. He literally has no idea what they were asking him. “Yeah, that’s fine by me.”

He kind of wants to go back to the conversation with just Henry, but they’re both pulled into the game. The rest of the table grows drunker by the second, their spirits high. Amber keeps talking to him and Alex responds as politely as he can, but he can feel his attention straying.

Back to Henry, who’s laughing at something that happened in the drinking game. Henry, who has a victorious smile lighting up his face whenever he wins a round. Henry, whose throat works every time he takes a shot.

There’s a speck of rum and coke residue on the corner of his lips and that slight sign of sloppiness is a testament to how tipsy he is. Alex reaches over and swipes a thumb over that spot, wiping it away.

Henry looks at him for a beat, before flicking out his tongue and licking Alex’s thumb.

Alex’s stomach jumps in surprise.

He stares at Henry, his face feeling much too hot, but Henry only graces him with a smile before turning back to the game. He’s left staring at the back of Henry’s head full of golden hair and the delicate nape of his neck. Alex wonders what would happen if he leaned forward and slotted his lips to that patch of exposed skin—if he dug his canines in and bit down. Would Henry push him off, or would he lean into it, his soft mouth forming around a moan—

A rush of heat flashes through his stomach and he stands, dizzy. His thumb, the skin where Henry’s tongue brushed against it, burns.

“Bathroom,” he croaks to nobody in particular and rushes away.

When he splashes cold water on his face and tries his best sober himself the fuck up, he hesitantly re-enters the bar. The game seems to be over by now and people have dispersed all over the room. There’s a good majority of people talking to the bartender and asking for drinks, some mingling around, and there’s even a few dancing to the music. Or drunkenly swaying, more like.

Alex looks around, but he can’t spot Henry anywhere. Did he go home?

He approaches the table and Amber smiles at him.

“Hi, stranger.”

He sits beside her, still craning his neck.

“Is Henry around?”

“He seems, ah, busy,” Amber inclines her head in a quiet, dark corner of the bar. Two figures are pressing into each other there, intertwined. Alex squints for a beat, before a realization startles through him, the shock like a thousand bolts of electricity on his nerves.

He sits up.

Because Henry is one of the people there, his hands resting on another man’s hips, and his mouth aligned with the others.

Alex vaguely registers the other man as Chris, an alpha from his class. Chris is not a bad guy, Chris lent Alex a pen once. Alex kind of wants to sock Chris in his stupid face.

Henry’s eyes are shut and his hands trail up Chris’s hips to thread through his hair—his long piano fingers tangling through dark strands. And Alex…He has to tear his gaze away, as something heavy settles into the pit of his stomach.

He takes in a deep breath. In. Out. In.

“Hey,” Amber leans closer, her hand resting on his thigh. “You okay?”

Alec’s muscles ache as he holds himself very still, so as to not catch a glimpse of Henry again. He has no idea why he’s feeling like this, why the sick feeling in his stomach feels so different from the regular nausea from drinking too much. Why he so badly wants to march over to Henry and tear Chris right off of him.

Breathe.

He takes in another breath and shoots Amber a smile.

“Never been better.”

They talk a little bit more, Amber inching closer and closer, until she’s practically in Alex’s lap. Alex lets her. Smiles at the right times. Touches her waist and draws her in close, so their lips can brush.

She’s a nice beta girl, articulate and cute. She kisses sweetly and rests her hands on his arms. She’s fine, just perfectly fine.

Alex’s skin prickles, and his eyes snap open, almost of their own accord. He can feel the weight of someone’ stare boring into his skin and when he looks forward, his heart stutters in his chest.

Henry’s watching him.

Henry—still entangled in the arms of the other alpha, still kissing him—is watching Alex. Alex’s stomach twists at the sight, his heart amping up a thousand beats per second. For a second, Alex wonders if he’s hallucinating it all. Then, Henry’s eyes narrow slightly and, without missing a beat, he takes Chris’s bottom lip in between his perfect teeth and pulls, the tug mean and dirty.

Fuck.

A moan rises in Alex’s throat, unbidden and raw. He almost drops the loose hold that he has on Amber and his lips pause from against hers.

Henry licks Chris’s lip almost in apology and winds his hands through his hair. Alex can feel the phantom weight of those hands in his own hair—pulling and tugging Alex apart at the seams. He shudders.

He tilts Amber’s head back and tucks his face against her jawline, muffling another needy noise. Her hair shrouds him from Henry’s gaze and that simply won’t do. So he gathers her hair back with one hand, holding her jaw with the other, and meets Henry’s eyes again. Even from across the bar, he can see how dark Henry’s eyes are, the color swallowed by the pupils.

Alex nips at the patch of skin right below Amber’s ear and he swears, he can see Henry shiver.

Alex does it again, a little harder, and this time, he can see Henry’s hips bucking up and into Chris’s. His soft mouth seems grows slack, the beginnings of a silent moan reflected on those impossible pink lips. Arousal, hot and all-consuming, fills Alex’s veins, boiling him from the inside out. He stares, at Henry, helplessly. Henry stares at him, chest rising.

“Alex?”

Amber’s voice breaks him out of his haze and Alex jerks back.

Oh, God. What the fuck just happened?

She stares up at him, her hair mussed and lips bruised. “Do you want to take this to mine—” she starts, breathily, but Alex shakes his head before she can finish her sentence.

“No,” he chokes out. “No, I, uh, have to go. I’m sorry.” He rushes out, but not before he catches a glimpse of Henry—tilting his neck back and letting Chris press kisses to his jaw. His eyes are half-lidded and practically glowing in the dim light of the bar.

And they’re trained right on Alex.

Alex swallows thickly, and steps out to hail a cab.

He spends the rest of the night in his room and utterly restless.

Every time he closes his eyes, the sight of Henry’s hands in Chris’s hair, Henry’s lips against Chris’s lips, and the way his eyes would never leave Alex’s. He presses his hands to his face and fights the urge to scream.

He’s about to head to the kitchen to make himself some tea to calm down, when he hears the front door click open. Then, the sound of muffled laughter and footsteps walking in. Two pairs of footsteps.

His stomach clenches.

Henry had brought Chris over.

He can hear Henry lead the other man to his bedroom, quiet. Henry, thankfully, has always been considerate of Alex when he brought men over. He’s rarely loud and he makes sure that his hookups never outstay their welcome. Even so, in the dead of night, Alex can hear them.

He can hear Chris grunting like a rabid fucking dog, the bed creaking, the faint sound of skin on skin. But most of all, he can hear Henry, shushing Chris and occasionally, letting out a soft gasp. Those gasps bleed into Alex’s brain, staining his thoughts a vivid shade of red. He clenches his jaw and buries his face into the pillows, wanting so very desperately to suffocate alive.

Eventually, he manages to drift to a fitful sleep, Henry’s gasps becoming a recurring character in his nightmares.

When he wakes the next morning, the urge to suffocate himself hasn’t quite faded.

He manages to peel himself away from his bed and shuffle to the kitchen to make himself coffee. He’s just taken his first sip when the door to Henry’s room opens and Henry shuffles out. Chris is nowhere in sight, most likely kicked out ages ago.

Henry’s wearing only pajama pants; Alex’s coffee mug pauses on its way to his lips at the sight. Henry’s pale skin is mostly unblemished, nothing other than the dozen moles that are peppered all over his body. However, there is a hickey on his jaw. Albeit, it’s a small one, but it’s a hickey nonetheless, blooming shades of violet and lavender.

Alex’s hand tightens on the handle of the mug.

“Fun night?” he asks, as casually as possible.

Henry surveys him, his gaze unreadable.

Then, ever so slightly, he shakes his head.

Interesting.

Alex leans against the counter, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“That bad, huh,” he tries to say it, sympathetically, but it comes out a little too flat, a little too blank. In all honesty, at this moment, he doesn’t particularly feel bad for Henry. He feels nothing other than a desire to sink his teeth into Henry’s neck, right at the mating gland, and never let go. Henry nods again, his gaze lowered to the ground.

“You probably gave him the night of his life, judging from how hard he was grunting and groaning,” Alex takes a sip from his mug. “But you’re telling me that he didn’t even return the favor?”

“No,” Henry says, gnawing at his lower lip. Alex fights to keep his gaze trained on Henry’s eyes.

“Did he even make you cum?”

Henry pauses, then says, painstakingly slow: “No.”

“I bet,” Alex hums. “He probably fucked you for all of five seconds and came, not caring whether you felt good at all. Did you lay there afterwards, wanting to cum but not being able to reach it, all by yourself?”

Henry crosses his arms and doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t tell Alex to stop. So, Alex does what he does best and runs his mouth.

“Or,” Alex muses, slowly. “Or, did you get off on your own, after he left? Did you jerk yourself off, a hand around your cock, and your hand over your own mouth, trying to keep quiet? Did you finger yourself wide open, wanting something bigger and better to replace your fingers, and reach a little deeper?”

Henry lets out a shaky breath, his eyes going dark and a little wild.

Alex takes a long sip of his coffee, something like victory rushing through him. Henry must see it in his gaze, because something cool and defiant flashes through his own eyes.

“Whatever the case,” he says, voice raspy. “The night wasn’t great and it just further proves my earlier point. Like I said: Alphas really don’t know how to fuck.”

“And like I said,” Alex sets down his mug and steps closer to Henry. Henry watches him through half-lidded eyes, expression unreadable. Alex comes to a stop in front of the other and smiles, winningly. “I can fuck and I know how to fuck you so well, you’ll see stars, baby.”

Henry’s throat bobs.

“Big words.”

“Then, let me prove it to you,” Alex says. “I know you’re aching for it, Henry.” He wants so badly to touch Henry, to cup his hands around Henry’s cheeks, or fit them on the curve of that tapered waist. But he keeps his fists balled to his side. Waiting. “I know you’re desperate for someone to make you cum your pretty brains out, after all the disappointments you’ve faced this year.”

Henry stares at him, unblinking, for a good long minute. Alex, despite his confident words, feels a pinprick of sweat gather at his brow as he awaits Henry’s response.

“And you?” Henry asks, eventually. “What are you desperate for, Alex?”

“You,” the truth slips free from Alex’s lips and Henry’s cool expression shatters.

For a second, he isn’t sure of what to make of the look on Henry’s face. It’s a strange combination of surprise and confusion, a dash of awe, and a hint of something that looks a little like…fear. He frowns, opening his mouth to question Henry about it, but then—

—Henry kisses him.

Their mouths meet in a violent crush and Alex moans at how good it feels: The feeling of Henry’s soft lips against his, that insistent tongue, and the smell of HenryHenryHenry sinking into Alex’s skin like a balm. Henry’s scent is something tart and strong—a combination of raspberries and rain—and Alex has never witnessed something like him, in his entire life.

He wants to bottle up that smell and use it as a cologne, dabbing it underneath his ears and on his wrists. He wants to bathe in it, sinking beneath the surface and never resurfacing. All omegas may smell nice to alphas, but Henry’s scent is utterly intoxicating.

He surges forward, pressing Henry against their hallway wall and rattling a picture frame there. Henry lets him do it, his fingers rough and insistent on Alex’s face—thumbs gliding over cheekbones and digging into faint indents of dimples. Alex smiles into the kiss, his teeth digging into Henry’s lip, and lets Henry feel his dimples for real.

Henry’s thumbs brush over Alex’s cheeks, before his hands slide over to the nape of Alex’s hair.

“What,” he pants in between kisses, “What are you going to do?”

Alex loops an arm around Henry’s waist and pulls their bodies flush together. Their chests collide and Henry’s pulse—a wild and unfettered thing—thuds against Alex’s heart. He keeps his arm hooked around Henry’s waist and presses his hand to his stomach, feeling the taut muscle and warm skin there.

“What do you want me to do?” Alex asks.

Henry squirms against his hold, but not enough to break free. He doesn’t answer the question.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly shy, princess,” Alex snickers, and Henry’s face flames red at the nickname.

“I’m not shy,” he stresses.

“Clearly,” Alex says, thinking about all of Henry’s sexual exploits and his brazen flirtatiousness. A bitter taste fills his mouth, but before he can think too much of it, Henry—his cheeks lovely and pink—raises his chin and crushes their lips back together. As if to prove his point that he wasn’t a prude. Alex’s lips quirk, curling up into a smile.

Henry nips at his bottom lip, confident and demanding, and who is Alex to deny him of anything? He opens his mouth and lets Henry slide his curious tongue in between Alex’s lips. Their tongues tangle together obscenely—Henry sucking on Alex’s tongue like he’s sucking fucking cock—and Alex is so hard that it hurts.

When he had first met Henry Fox, Alex had thought that he was many things: stand-offish, cold, annoying, a total dick, etc, etc. But most of all, he thought that Henry was boring. He was handsome, sure, but he was handsome in a boring way: Genial smiles and fairytale prince propriety.

Of course, Alex had sorely been proven wrong. He had painstakingly learned that there was more to Henry Fox than met the eye. He was a poet who despised talking about his own works, despite his palpable talent; a person who would have a new man in his bed every weekend, but would turn crimson when someone tried to slip him their phone number; a fantastic baker and a shit cook; someone funny, someone gentle, and someone kind.

And there’s nothing boring about him, especially now.

Henry tears his mouth away, gasping for air. A string of spit connects their lips, the sight lewd enough to send Alex’s head spinning. Dizzy, he drops his head long enough to press his lips to Henry’s neck. Henry shivers under his touch.

“Still at a loss for words?” Alex murmurs against Henry’s skin. His own voice is strained at the edges, but he keeps talking. “I’ll give you some options, see what sounds good to you, princess, and I’ll give you it.”

I’ll give you it all, he thinks almost hysterically, as he peppers more kisses alongside Henry’s throat. Anything you ask for. His canines brush against a particularly sensitive patch of skin and Henry whimpers. Blood rushes down to Alex’s groin, so fast he’s nearly lightheaded from it.

He can’t remember the last time he was this turned on, just from a little kissing and talking.

“Let’s see…I could suck your cock—let you face-fuck me and use me, wrecking my throat and ruining it to shreds,” he trails his hand to Henry’s hip. “Would you like that?”

Henry lets out another sweet little noise and bucks his hips into Alex’s.

“Or,” Alex continues. He fingers the waistband of Henry’s pants as he nips at Henry’s adam’s apple. The man underneath him shivers a little harder. “I could push you on the table, on your back, spread your legs, and eat you out—right here and now. Tongue-fuck your pretty little hole, until you’re screaming for mercy. I bet you taste amazing, sweetheart.”

Henry’s hands clench and unclench from where they’re gripping Alex’s shirt. Then, he mumbles something that Alex doesn’t catch. Alex pulls away from where he’s lazily trailing his tongue over the column of Henry’s throat and tries to catch Henry’s eye.

“What was that?”

Henry moves as if to duck his head in embarrassment. Alex catches him, a hand wrenching his chin upward. He’s a touch too rough and an apology rises on his tongue, before he catches a glimpse of the expression on Henry’s face. His eyes are wide and blown out; pretty lips bruised like an over-ripe peach, cheeks flushed. He looks dazed; he looks wrecked and Alex hasn’t even touched him yet.

He licks his lips at the sight and Henry’s gaze tracks the motion.

“Henry?” Alex prods again, and presses his fingers down against Henry’s jaw a little harder. The pad of one of his fingers brushes along the hickey that Chris had left. When Alex pushes down on that spot, Henry lets out a quiet, aroused noise and curls his fingers tighter into Alex’s shirt.

A wave of inexplicable irritation washes through him and Alex adjusts his grip. Like this, his fingers cover the hickey. He’s considering leaning in and gnawing at Henry’s jaw, until that hickey is replaced with a new one from Alex’s mouth when he’s shocked still.

“Fuck me, Alexander,” Henry Fox—Alex’s friend and roommate—begs.

Fuck.

Alex tries very hard not to cum right then and there. Henry begging to be taken and fucked…Alex thought a lot of things could be considered sexy, but this. This blew everything out of the damn water. It takes every ounce of self-control in his body—which admittedly is not a lot—to affect a relatively calm demeanor and smile at Henry, sweet and casual.

Henry’s scent thickens then—raspberries and rain—and Alex grins harder, the tip of his canine catching on his bottom lip.

“I see,” he says. “You want me to fuck you? How do you want me to fuck you?”

He leans in close until their foreheads are brushing. Like this, they’re so closely intertwined, if anyone were looking, they might think he and Henry were one being. Two heads, four arms; one heart, one soul. Alex winds his arm around Henry’s waist a little tighter.

Henry blinks up at him, the lust and pure heat in his gaze seeming to melt into something a little softer. This expression makes the gold flecks in his irises seem to glow brighter. Alex swallows at the sight.

Then, he hisses out a groan as Henry rocks their hips together.

“Fuck me,” the man in Alex’s arms, with impossible eyes says. “Fuck me like how you fucked all your other omegas.”

Things grow frantic from there.

Somehow, Alex manages to tug them into his room, their mouths hot on one another and hands tearing at each other’s clothes, like they were both personally offended by the presence of shirts and pants. They land on the bed, then Alex on top of Henry.

“Wait,” Alex pants out when Henry begins peeling off his briefs. “Condoms.”

He peels himself from Henry, a herculean task, and rummages in his bedside drawer.

“Do you even have condoms that aren’t expired?” Henry asks from the bed. “It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”

He sounds equal parts mocking and serious; and Alex turns around—non-expired condoms and lube in hand, thank you—ready to snap back with a witty retort. He nearly drops everything to the floor at what greets him.

Henry is still sprawled like a vision on his bed, but his underwear is off, leaving him completely bare. Alex eyes the miles of pale skin littered with a smattering of moles here and there—his gaze traveling from Henry’s ankles, to his carved calves and thighs, to his dick—all pretty and pink—standing at attention. Alex’s stomach jolts.

Henry leans back on one elbow and looks back at Alex.

“Come here,” he beckons and Alex thinks he would have crawled to Henry, if only the other asked. He obeys without question.

He lowers himself back down until he’s on top of Henry again and Henry’s slowly spreading his thighs—so that Alex can fit in the cradle of his hips. When he hooks those strong thighs around Alex’s waist, Alex pauses, his brain frying right in his skull.

“Y-you’re so wet.”

He can feel Henry’s slick coating his thighs and pooling onto the sheets, creating a mess. At this point, they definitely didn’t need lube, but he squeezes some anyway onto his hand. He grinds down experimentally, and their cocks brush against each other in a teasing, light rhythm.

They both shudder at it.

“Mhm,” Henry hums and seizes Alex’s wrist of the hand that now’s coated with lube.

Before Alex can ask what he’s doing, Henry guides his hand down, down, until they’re brushing against—

Alex keens, low and so turned on, it’s almost anguished, and Henry’s laugh rings out between them—the chime of it as pretty as bells.

“Sweetheart,” Alex moans. He traces Henry’s rim ever so lightly and feels how the other clenches down around nothing. “Fuck, princess. How are you so…Are you sure you’re not in heat or something?”

“No,” Henry noses alongside Alex’s throat. “I’m wet just for you.”

Alex is going to die.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “You’re dripping wet just for me?”

“Mhm—oh!” Henry’s affirmation is cut off with a startled gasp as Alex flips presses one finger inside of him slowly. He begins working Henry open with methodical fingers, watching Henry’s reactions—every gasp, bitten-back mewl, and flush. He commemorates it all to memory, memorizing what Henry likes and doesn’t.

He, especially, takes into note when he finds that spot in Henry that makes his doe-eyes go wide and his mouth hang wide open in a quiet moan.

“Ngh–!”

“Found it,” Alex smiles, sweat dripping down his temple.

His next jab is merciless and Henry’s legs tremble from where they’re clenched tight around Alex’s hips. He keeps fucking into Henry like this, rough and harsh; until Henry is squirming, his back bowing taut, and hips twitching every which direction—his untouched cock seeking friction.

“Alex,” he groans into Alex’s mouth. “I, ngh, need—”

“I know what you need,” Alex soothes.

“Then give i-it to me,” Henry demands.

Alex’s lips quirk.

“Of course, princess,” he obeys, but not without lightly scraping his blunt nails alongside that sensitive spot in Henry, making the man underneath him yelp prettily. Then, he withdraws and watches as Henry’s hole flutters around nothing, trying to keep his fingers there.

“Put it in,” Henry implores again.

“Put what in?” Alex plays dumb as he rips into the condom packet with his teeth. “Put this in?”

He traces his finger on the inside of Henry’s thigh.

“No!” Henry cries out. His skin is flushed and his hair is a mess, a sight to behold. There’s a desperate tinge to his voice that Alex knows is from teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. It’s beautiful.

“Then what did you mean?” Alex asks. He leans in and kisses Henry, deep and messy. He withdraws long enough to ask: “What do you want, Henry?”

“I want—” Henry moans as Alex thumbs at the head of his cock, teasing at the slit with his finger. His eyes roll back in his head. “Hngh, I want—!”

“Use your words, baby,” Alex whispers and Henry cums suddenly, with a shout.

Alex blinks in surprise as the man beneath him trembles and shivers, his limbs jerking in pleasure as cum paints both their stomachs a vivid white. His scent grows so thick that it’s all Alex can smell. It’s the hottest thing Alex has ever seen and, respectfully, he will be jerking off to this memory for the next thirty years.

Henry’s orgasm lasts for a while, but eventually, he seems to slowly come to—still shaking a little, his eyes still somewhat dazed and clouded with pleasure. Alex brushes the hair from his eyes and holds him close, murmuring nonsensical things in his ear. Henry stares at him for a long beat, before his eyes widen.

“I–I,” he stammers, face flushing a deep shade of red. He looks like he might bolt any second now and his hands shoot away from their grip on Alex’s hair. Alex mourns their loss instantly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Alex asks, peering down at him. He keeps his grip on Henry, one hand on his face and the other firm on Henry’s hip. “That was literally the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Henry blinks.

“Don’t lie,” he starts, his voice turning fragile and Alex shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s true. That was fucking hot, like so hot. I thought I was gonna black out just from watching you cum, hell, I almost came just from watching. I can’t believe you came that hard from a thumb on your pretty cock? You’re so sensitive, sweetheart. It’s everything.”

“Really?” The question is hesitant.

“Really,” Alex pushes a lock of hair away from Henry’s eyes. “Makes me wonder how many times I can make you cum tonight. If you can cum untouched, with just my cock pounding into your tight little hole. Or maybe,” he leans down and takes Henry’s earlobe in between his teeth. Henry lets out a gasp. “I can make you cum with just my words alone.”

Henry shudders underneath him and Alex can feel his spent dick beginning to fill with interest. So, he likes Alex’s filthy fucking mouth. Good to know. Alex pushes back a smile and kisses Henry square on the lips.

Henry lets his mouth open and their tongues tangle together again. Alex moans appreciatively into it, trying to keep himself from rutting against Henry’s thigh like a horny mutt. There’s an art to kissing Henry—it’s a push and pull for control and submission with each nip of teeth, it’s an equal exchange of pleasure, and it’s fucking fun. Alex can’t remember the last time he had this much fun kissing someone.

Or if he had ever felt something like this, to this extent with anyone else.

“Keep going,” Henry rasps into Alex’s mouth, after a few minutes of them kissing. Alex pauses.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Please,” is all Henry says, but that’s enough for Alex.

He flips Henry around and Henry barely has enough time to squeak in surprise, before he finds himself face down in the sheets, his back facing Alex. He pushes himself up to his elbows and shoots Alex a look that’s equal parts disdained, amused, and turned on. Alex’s cock twitches at the sight.

“A little warning next time? I’m not a rag doll.”

Alex traces the delicate line of Henry’s spine with the tips of his fingers, until he reaches the base of his spine.

“But where’s the fun in that?” he asks and rests his hands on Henry’s hips. It’s then that he recognizes, dizzyingly, that Henry has both shoulder dimples and hip dimples. Alex’s hands are big enough that they fit perfectly on Henry’s hips and his thumbs rest on those hip dimples.

“You were made for me, baby,” Alex blurts out, half out of his mind. But it’s true.

The evidence is in how perfectly his hands slot onto Henry’s hips and how perfectly his thumbs fit into those dimples. It’s in how easily Henry falls apart in his hands, compared to every other irritating man that had had him before. It’s in everything.

Henry’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, but before he can say anything, Alex eases into him.

“Fuck,” Alex grunts. He might pass out. No, scratch that, he’s going to pass out. He’s never felt this good in his life—the tight, slick heat of HenryHenryHenry enveloping him completely. He’ll never unlearn the revelation that is sex with Henry. He thinks he’ll spend his whole life chasing after just a taste of it again, begging for it, clawing and crawling after it.

“Alex–!” Henry mewls.

Alex leans forward, making Henry’s elbows give out and pinning Henry completely to the mattress. He bottoms out and Henry spasms around him. Pleasure explodes behind his eyelids and Alex has to grip down on Henry’s hips hard—pressing his thumbs to those hip dimples and dropping his forehead to those shoulder dimples.

He inhales deeply. Raspberries and rain. Henry.

“Are y-you okay?” He grits out. “Is it too much?”

“Y-You’re too big,” Henry babbles.

“I can,” Alex swallows. “I can stop.”

“No!” Henry clenches tight around him, as if to keep him there. “I, ngh, want—no, I need you to keep going. So, fuck me deeper, harder,” He reaches back and places a clumsy hand on the nape of Alex’s neck. “Give me everything.”

Alex blinks.

“You’re really,” he huffs out an awed laugh. “You’re really something else, Fox.”

Henry’s kaleidoscope eyes—shades of green, gold, brown—curve, and his smile is breathtaking.

“You’re really something else yourself, Claremont-Diaz.”

“Why, thank you,” Alex grins and thrusts his hips in, shallowly. Henry moans and cants his hips back, fucking himself back on Alex’s cock the best he can. Alex takes it as an encouragement to fuck in a deeper, rougher rhythm and he does just that, driving in and out of Henry with the force that sends his headboard slamming against the wall.

When Alex shifts his hips ever so slightly, he feels Henry spasming around him, growing impossibly tighter and wetter, slick sliding down his thighs in rivulets. Precum drips from his untouched cock and onto the sheets below him. Alex smiles and pulls out, his cock achingly hard and instantly missing the heat of Henry.

“Alex?” Henry pants, twisting his neck back to look at him. His eyes are wide and blown out. “W-Why’d you stop?”

“You like it deep, don’t you?” Alex asks and Henry blushes, but he doesn’t deny it. But he doesn’t confirm it either, despite how he all but admitted it earlier.

“Well?” Alex asks, patient. He slides his cock alongside the crevice of Henry’s ass, the slide made easy from all the slick and lube. Henry shivers.

“You,” he licks his plump lips. “You already know my answer. Do you need me to repeat it? Do you, ah, need to humiliate me?”

Yes, Alex does not say, candidly.

“I wouldn’t dream of humiliating you, princess,” he lies through his teeth instead, and breaches Henry’s shallowly, with just the tip. Henry’s back arches at the intrusion, a bead of sweat trailing down the line of that perfect spine.

“Then why are you—!” Henry’s cut off by Alex thrusting in ever so shallowly. He moans, thrashing his head. “Please–!”

“Baby,” Alex murmurs. “I’ll give you everything you, hngh, want. I swear it.”

He bites at the nape of Henry’s neck. “But for me to know what to give you, you have to tell me, first,” he sucks a hickey onto the pale skin of Henry’s nape. “So, tell me.”

“I,” Henry squirms. “I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Like it deep,” Henry finishes after a beat, his cheeks turning vermillion.

“Like this deep?” Alex teases, inching a little further into Henry.

Henry shakes his head and Alex can make out the frustrated tears cresting the corners of his eyes.

“How about this?” Alex asks as he goes in a little deeper.

“No,” Henry rasps, sounding more strained. “More, please, I need more.”

“I see. Like this?” Alex asks and slams all the way into Henry, filling him to the brim. Henry jerks underneath him, eyes rolling back in his sockets and limbs twitching with shock and pleasure. Alex grins.

“Yes,” Henry squeals. “Yes–!”

Alex fucks him like that, deep and rough—drawing back so that just the tip rests against his entrance and hammering in all the way. Henry takes him perfectly, moaning and mewling like a bitch in heat at every thrust.

“You like that?” Alex asks, through his own obscene noises. He isn't expecting Henry to answer, they’re both too far gone to really make much sense right now, but to his surprise, Henry nods, frantically.

“I love it,” he blabbers, “You’re s-so deep. So deep, too deep. I can feel you in here,” he rests a hand on his stomach and Alex sees stars. “Love, I can feel you, ngh, everywhere—!”

“F-Fuck,” Alex pants out, his own eyes rolling back. “Henry, baby, I can feel you everywhere too.”

He reaches around and fists Henry’s cock in his hand. Henry squeals again, his hips jerking in aborted measures. “Wait, wait, if y-you do that,” he moans. “I-I’ll cum.”

“Good,” Alex moans. “I want you to.”

Then, he grips Henry’s hand, the one laced in the bedsheets with his other hand. With a flick of Alex’s thumb and a thrust of his hips, Henry shatters beneath him, for the second time that night.

“Look at how, ngh, pretty you are,” Alex pants, the words spilling out as he chases his own orgasm. “Pretty squirting bitch. You came from me barely touching you and now you’re cumming all over my cock.”

He spreads him wide open, exposing the most sensitive parts of Henry to the cool air and Alex’s piercing gaze, even as he still fucks into him. Surprised, Henry’s legs flail pathetically, but Alex soothes him with a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“You’re so sensitive and so fucking perfect, baby,” he rasps against Henry’s skin.

Alex keeps fucking him, his thrusts growing more and more erratic, until Henry—oversensitive and gorgeously wrecked Henry—is begging him to cum.

And Alex does.

His orgasm seems to last a lifetime, but when he finally blinks himself out of it, he manages to wipe Henry down haphazardly. And then, he collapses in the bed next to the other. There’s slick and lube everywhere, the smell of Henry’s scent intermixed with sex potent in the air. They really need to take a damn shower.

Alex pushes himself up enough to look at Henry.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Henry hums. His cheek is nestled against the pillow, his hair like a golden halo around him. His eyelashes flutter. He’s—

Alex’s heart thuds and he clears his throat.

“Did you like it?” he asks, after a beat. For some reason, he feels like this is the incorrect thing to ask, but Henry glances at him, blushing, before shutting his eyes.

“I came two more times than I did with my past hookups this entire year,” Henry says, dryly. “So, if that doesn’t answer your question.”

“I told you I can fuck,” Alex says and Henry snorts. But then, Alex continues, thoughtfully. “You aren’t hard to please, by the way. Making you cum is not the least bit difficult.”

“Arrogant much?” Henry drawls.

“But it’s the truth,” Alex says, lips pursed. “Everyone you’ve fucked this past year, whether they’re alphas or not…They’re all idiots.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, sweetheart,” Alex leans in close, until their noses brush. Henry peers up at him, his eyes heavy-lidded and mouth slightly parted. “Every single alpha, beta, omega, and whoever else left you unsatisfied is a goddamn moron. Watching you cum, making you lose your fucking mind, is a goddamn religious experience. And whoever thinks otherwise has no right being allowed to even think about sleeping with you.”

In all honesty, experiencing Henry cum his brains out was the highlight of this entire thing, though his own orgasm certainly didn’t hurt either. Henry, lost in the throes of pleasure, was a sight to behold. Alex selfishly wants to treasure the memory, to experience it in every waking moment of his life. He wants—

Henry blinks up at him, stunned. Then he laughs, slow and sweet.

Things spiral from there.

They have sex a lot. Henry on his knees cockwarming Alex as Alex takes a phone call—one hand knotting in Henry’s hair and the other on his phone. Alex, in turn, sucking Henry off and fingering him in the shower, until Henry is crying with pleasure. And on, and on, and so forth—for two whole months.

Something else changes in their relationship, something Alex can’t quite put his finger on. They already spend a lot of time together, due to their proximity as roommates and friends, but now. Now, it’s different.

Henry sometimes falls asleep in Alex’s bed, after they’ve had sex. They sometimes spend the whole night like this, sleeping next to each other and holding one another in their arms. When Alex wakes, he always finds himself wrapped around Henry like a koala, or vise versa. Every time he goes to untangle, Henry holds on a little tighter and Alex is powerless under his grasp.

“Stay,” Henry commands, and Alex stays.

Henry wears Alex’s clothes sometimes and Alex wears his—for reasons unknown other than he likes his clothes on Henry and he likes Henry’s scent. Henry bakes for him every night and Alex cooks for him every morning. They spend more and more time together, just the two of them—when before, their hangouts had sometimes included other friends like Pez or Nora as well.

“What are we doing out here?” Alex had asked one night, as Henry led him out to their apartment’s balcony one night.

“Star-gazing,” Henry had said, simply. “You said you wanted to learn.”

Alex had blinked. It had been an offhanded comment while they were watching TV, a week ago. He hadn’t thought Henry had remembered.

But he did.

Henry had shown him how to find Orion that night—standing behind Alex and guiding his arm to point in the right direction. His heartbeat had been warm against Alex’s back, his scent thick and comforting.

“Here?” Alex had tried on his own, pointing way off course, and Henry had laughed and guided him back.

Henry had talked about his dad that night, his head resting on Alex’s shoulder and his voice quiet. Alex had looped his arm around Henry’s waist and he had listened. Henry had watched the moon and the constellations until the sun rose; Alex had watched the lines of Henry’s face.

“Thank you,” Henry had whispered as they headed back inside.

He had looked at Alex with a soft, unreadable expression before kissing him and ducking into his bedroom.

Alex had stood there, his lips tingling, for a good long beat.

He feels closer to Henry—both physically and emotionally. And he likes it. They talk about things Alex never dared to mention to anyone else before. They fuck and they laugh. And he really, really likes it.

Their friends look at him and Henry with knowing looks in their eyes, hell, strangers on the street look at him and Henry with knowing looks in their eyes.

And Alex feels his skin crawl and his face go hot every time.

It all comes to a boiling point at a party.

It’s the New Year’s party that Pez throws annually and it’s grandiose, like all of his parties are. His penthouse is large enough to house the many, many guests he invites and drinks are just as plentiful. It’s organized chaos, to say the least, and Alex loves it.

Well, he usually does, anyway.

This year, however, it’s a little different.

He and Henry arrive at the party, greeting Pez and then slipping into the pulsating crowds. Henry is gorgeous, clad in a silver billowy shirt and black pants, and Alex, as he often finds himself these days, can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him. It’s a dimly lit party, set to look more like a rave than anything, but Henry’s features are as clear as day.

“I see someone I know from uni,” Henry says in his ear, his eyes bright and gorgeous. There’s a pearl earring dangling from his left ear. It’s iridescent and it’s almost like a miniature moon hung just to accentuate Henry’s beauty. “Is he waving at me? Is it too late to jump out the window?”

“Or,” Alex says, amused. “You could say hi.”

Henry groans, but after catching the person’s eye, he trudges off in their direction.

“Shout if you need saving, princess.”

Henry flips him off, the movement smooth. Alex laughs and leans back against the wall, watching Henry depart—the gentle sway of his hips and his effortlessly graceful gait.

By now, Alex should be downing drinks and greeting everyone, making small talk and flashing his most brilliant smile for all to see. But for some reason, he can’t today. He can do little but watch Henry—taking in every part of him until the image of technicolor lights catching in his hair is seared into Alex’s memory. He stares, throat bobbing.

“Alex,” someone says, sweetly, and Alex turns.

“Amber,” he says to the familiar beta girl, and she smiles. “You’re here too!”

“Yeah,” she says, sheepish. “Pez and I are in the same yoga class, he just joined last week and he invited me.”

Alex laughs lightly. “Sounds like Pez. He’ll invite anyone to his party as long as they’re chill. How are you?”

They haven’t really spoken since that night at the bar, which was about a month ago. She tried to approach him a few times after that night, but Alex had always been busy. Busy rushing home to see Henry, he thinks, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“I’m good,” she grins, amiable. Her interest in him that night at the bar had also seemed to vanish too, after a week, which was a relief. She seems nothing but friendly now. “How are you? Is your boyfriend here too?”

Alex blinks.

“What?”

She arches a brow.

“Your boyfriend? The cute omega guy who was at the bar.”

“Oh,” Alex coughs. “Henry? We aren’t—”

“Yeah,” she says. “Did you finally ask him out?”

Alex is stupified, yet again.

“Um,” he chokes. “No?”

Her brow arches a little higher.

“But you’re clearly into him,” she says. “You were eye-fucking him that entire night and ignored everyone else.”

“I wasn’t,” Alex starts, then stops. It was a pointless denial. But how could he ever explain what he and Henry had to someone who wasn’t even his friend?

Henry and I are casually fucking, but we’re just close friends and roommates. But also he doesn’t fuck anyone else and I don’t fuck anyone else. And we sleep in each other’s arms sometimes. And we exchange clothes because we like the smell of each other. And—

Alex clears his throat.

“I don’t like him romantically,” he says, simply. “Just because I’m an alpha and he’s an omega doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” Amber says. “But you two seemed really close, that’s all. And you seemed kinda pissed off when Chris was with him that night. You kept glaring over at them. Honestly, some of us joked that you were going to ask Chris to battle to the death for Henry’s hand and all that.”

“I-I…What?” Alex asks weakly.

“Yeah,” She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink, completely unaware that Alex’s psyche is been shattering around him. “I would have said the same thing if he was a beta or an alpha—it’s not that he’s an omega. You just looked like you really liked him and really disliked seeing him with someone else, that’s all.”

“That’s not the case,” Alex blurts out. “We’re, uh, it’s complicated.”

“Oh,” She smiles, apologetically. “Sorry for assuming.”

He waves off her apology and she ambles off, having spotted her friends. But Alex stays glued to the wall, his mind whirling with thoughts.

He and Henry had never liked each other in the way Amber had implied. They had a bad start as roommates where they could barely tolerate each other; but after they had grown past it, they had remained friends and roommates for a year—nothing more and nothing less. Despite them being an alpha and omega respectively, there had never been anything between them. No hidden feelings or desires.

What they were doing now was a mutually beneficial arrangement. It had nothing to do with feelings, just stress relief. It didn’t really mean anything.

Except.

Alex thinks about it, long and hard. Maybe, it wasn’t so simple. He had never liked the people Henry brought over, even if he never had to see them. He really hadn’t liked it when Chris was making out with Henry at the bar, and had liked it even less when Henry had brought him home.

And his and Henry’s sex, their moments without sex, it all means something—at least to Alex. He can’t pretend that it doesn’t. He thinks about losing what they had—their newfound intimacy both in bed and out of it—and he feels sick to his stomach. And, Alex—

He has the mind of a lawyer. He can overanalyze something to the finest details, can pick apart evidence until there’s nothing left to show for it, and can spend hours crafting the best plan of attack—whether it be for school or his personal life. He prides himself in finding all arguments and rebuttals; as well as sources and supporting evidence for everything and anything. What was the reasoning, the logic behind him liking Henry Fox?

But, when he glances over at Henry, who’s grinning at someone with that reserved, yet handsome smile of his, his brain goes quiet.

He had known that Henry had always been good-looking, but this was the first time Alex was really noticing that he was seriously beautiful—a vision of silver and gold. He’s so beautiful, that Alex almost wanted to look away. But even the thought of looking away was causing his heart to pang in a tremendously awful way.

Henry’s eyes snap over to his and his smile turns a little sweeter and a little wider.

And oh.

I like him, Alex thinks, helplessly. Easily. And maybe, just maybe, it was that easy: Liking someone. Liking Henry Fox.

Henry quirks a brow at him as if asking Alex what he’s looking at. Alex can only smile helplessly.

I like him. I like him. I like him.

He doesn’t know how long he and Henry stand there, staring at each other, but eventually, the person Henry was talking to leaves in a huff. Henry doesn’t even seem to notice as he makes his way through the crowd.

“Is that your omega?” someone asks, drunkenly, as they pass by Alex. Henry is a few paces away. “He’s hot, man.”

“He’s beautiful,” Alex corrects, absentmindedly, and the person toasts to him with their cup before disappearing into the crowds. Henry comes to a stop before him, his cheeks pink.

“I heard that,” he says.

“Okay,” Alex says. “I don’t see the problem with it. It’s the truth.”

Henry’s flush deepens.

“Who were you talking to?” Alex asks.

“Oh,” Henry says, slowly. “Someone from uni. He and I, er, were acquaintances during freshmen year of uni.”

Alex gives Henry a once-over. “You mean you dated,” he says, something heated and uncomfortable rising in his stomach. The same feeling he had when he heard Henry bringing men over and when he saw Henry kiss Chris. And he now has a name to the face: Jealousy.

“No, no,” Henry wrinkles his nose. “He and I really were not that close.”

“But?” Alex asks, sensing a ‘but.’

“But,” Henry sighs. “I may have hooked up with him once, in my car, maybe? I’m not sure, the memories are hazy and I was certainly vodka-drunk. And you know how I get when I get vodka-drunk.”

“Hm,” Alex hums and cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the guy. It’s a lost cause, but still.

“It really is no big deal,” Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “I was a stupid uni first year.”

“Are there ever any smart college freshmen?” Alex asks, lightly.

“True,” Henry sighs. “In all honesty, I forgot that I even did that, until you brought it up. It mustn’t have been good if I forgot most of it, much less that it even happened in the first place.”

“Oh? Is car sex a no-go, for you then?”

“Well,” Henry blushes, and glances at the front door. “I didn’t say that.”

Alex grins.

“Lead the way, baby.”

They make it to Henry’s stupidly expensive sports car and tumble in the backseat, laughing and gripping onto one another. Alex ends up on his back, Henry straddling him.

“Do you get off on this?” Henry asks noncommittally—grinding forward and bracing his hands on Alex’s chest to keep his balance. Alex thrusts up against him, keeping along with the rhythm Henry sets.

“On what?”

“On recreating my time with someone else with you,” Henry murmurs into Alex’s ear, his nails dragging across Alex’s nipples. Alex moans at that, bucking his hips harder.

“No,” he lies, like a lying liar.

Henry smirks down at him. “Whatever you say, love.”

He peels Alex’s shirt off and does the same for his own shirt, a gleam bright in his eyes.

“Close your eyes.”

Alex raises a brow.

“Is it my birthday?” he asks, sarcastically.

“Just close them,” Henry commands and Alex does, despite his confusion. There’s some rustling and jostling around, but then Henry says:

“Open.”

Alex’s eyes fly open.

Henry’s still in his lap, but he’s straddling him backward, his back to Alex. He’s naked too, all clothing shed from his body. And in the dim light of the car, Alex sees it and he nearly blacks out.

Because Henry is wearing body jewelry.

It’s a simple but elegant chain encircling his hips in delicate lines, before trailing up his spine to the clasp at his neck. On the spine's length, four pears are embedded in the chain, evenly spread and practically glowing against Henry’s skin. It’s gorgeous, of course, but the accessory mainly elevates the beauty of the person wearing it.

Henry’s beauty.

“Like it?” Henry asks, peering over his shoulder. His grin is both confident and shy; and Alex is going to tear into him and consume him whole, bones and all.

“Like it? I love it, sweetheart. I also think I’m having an aneurysm right now, on a completely unrelated note. Just…Wow, Jesus Mary Joseph, I guess it really is my birthday. You look, fuck, divine, Henry,” Alex rasps. “You wore this just for me?”

Henry’s smile turns more playful.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

The rush of jealousy comes flooding back, boiling at an alarming temperature and turning his skin prickly.

“Who else were you going to show?” Alex asks, his voice sounding rough and short, even to his own ears.

Henry raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Alex repeats again.

“Maybe I didn’t have anyone in mind when I bought it,” Henry says, nonchalantly. “Maybe I just wanted to wear it for myself.”

“Yeah? Well, if that’s the case,” Alex drawls. “Why drag me here away from the party, just to show it off to me?”

“Maybe I’m looking for admiration, nothing else,” Henry replies, coolly.

Alex licks his upper left canine.

“Well, if it’s admiration that you’re looking for, angel, it’s admiration you’ll get.”

H reaches out and traces over the length of the chain from where it falls down Henry’s spine. He doesn’t touch Henry, but the other could probably feel how close he is, judging from the goosebumps on the line of Henry’s back.

“You’re beautiful, Henry,” he murmurs, “But I’m sure you already know that. The way your eyes seem to change colors with the wind, the way your hair falls against your forehead, your smile, your tears, I’m sure you understand how beautiful every part of you is. After all, it is your body.”

His fingers trace over the pearls and Henry shivers. The smell of raspberries and rain grow stronger and Alex inhales in the scent, slow and unhurried.

“But do you know the effect your beauty has on others?” he whispers, pinching the chain between two reverent fingers. When Henry stays silent, Alex smiles. “No, I guess you don’t.”

“There’s a reason why the men you fuck will remember your name and face, even after you’ve forgotten theirs. You’re unforgettable, Henry; so gorgeous, so lovely, it actually hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Alex sits up and kisses the nape of Henry’s neck. Henry is still in his lap, barely breathing.

“Your beauty pierces souls,” he breathes out against Henry’s ear, tracing fingers along the looping silver surrounding Henry’s hips. He takes Henry’s pearl earring in between his teeth and gives it a little tug. “You leave men like me in half agony, half hope.”

I like you, the words nearly escape Alex’s lips, then. I really like you.

“Alex,” Henry breathes out, sounding choked. Alex peppers kisses alongside his jaw, banishing those thoughts.

“So, tell me to admire you, and I will. It’s as easy as breathing to me. I offer my admiration and myself to you, baby, with a heart that’s more yours than mine. There is no one more beautiful than you and your beauty affects no one more than me. I’m yours.”

I like you.

Henry moves as if to turn, but Alex loops his arms around Henry’s waist, keeping him still.

“Did you like that?” he murmurs into the shell of Henry’s ear. Henry whimpers and Alex looks down lazily to see that Henry’s already half-hard. There’s some slick trailing down Henry’s thighs and staining Alex’s pants. Alex couldn’t care less.

“I thought you would,” Alex murmurs, softly. “Look at you dripping wet for me already.”

“Y-you’re hard too,” Henry moans, moving his hips back, as if to grind down on Alex’s clothed erection.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Alex counters, then he nibbles at the nape of Henry’s neck. “Hey, think I can make you cum, just from this?” He tugs on Henry’s earring again, while also pinching a pearl from Henry’s body chain in between two fingers. Henry jerks, arching into his touch, “Nothing but my words in your ear to get you off?”

“No,” Henry trembles. “I want to ride you.”

“Ride me?” Alex affects a shocked tone. “But, princess, you said I could only admire you. It was implied that I shouldn’t touch.”

He moves as if to maneuver Henry off of him, teasingly, but Henry’s quicker. He pushes Alex back down and shifts in his lap, so that Henry’s facing forward again. They’re nose to nose now, Henry hovering above Alex, and Alex staring up at him, his hands resting on Henry’s hips.

“It’s just implied,” Henry says, dismissively. “It’s not a hard and fast rule.”

Alex’s lips quirk. “Good to know.”

They make quick work of Alex’s zipper and soon, Henry is producing a condom from god knows where and rolling it onto Alex with ease. The car is cramped, probably too cramped for two grown adults but still, Alex hardly notices. Not when he has a lapful of Henry Fucking Fox.

“What’s the magic word?” Henry teases as he hovers over Alex’s cock.

“Please,” Alex begs, all smart-ass quips thrown out the window. Henry is beautiful, and Alex wants him; there are not enough jokes and witty one-liners in the world that can take away from that fact. He wants Henry like this, raw and unbridled, gorgeous and controlled. He wants it all.

“Very good, Claremont-Diaz,” Henry purrs and drops down.

Alex sees stars.

“Jesus Mary Joseph,” he swears and holds on tight as Henry moves. “Henry, Henry, Henry.”

Henry bounces on Alex’s cock like he’s paid to do it, each roll of his hips smooth and unhurried. When it gets too much for his thighs—carved and trained from ears of polo and horseback riding— to hold him up, Alex plants his feet on the seat and thrusts up. He nails Henry’s prostate in one go and Henry mewls, his spine jolting like it just got hit by a thousand bolts of electricity.

“Alex,” he moans, his hips twitching. “Alex.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” Alex pants, rubbing a thumb along the slit and teasing at the opening there. At the same time, he leans upward, so that he’s resting on his forearms, and closes his mouth over Henry’s nipple—lightly grazing his teeth against the skin.

Henry jerks, a soft laugh spilling from his lips. Then, he cums and Alex watches him, admiring the view as he continues fucking upward into Henry.

“Look at that, baby, you made a mess,” he says, after a beat, and meets Henry’s hazy eyes.

Henry pants, the aftershocks still wracking through his lithe body—thighs trembling and stomach muscles spasming. He’s a fucking mess, with slick dripping down his thighs, drool sliding down his chin, and cum staining his stomach. Henry Fox is always a goddamn sight to behold; but he’s a damn vision when he’s just orgasmed: Fucked out and utterly stupid from it.

It’s too bad most of the human wastes of air Henry fucked had never seen something like it. Alex thinks that they may missed their chance to see the eighth wonder of the world. And they never would get the chance again.

Alex traces over the mess of cum and slick on Henry’s stomach, then his—getting his hand all messy and wet. Henry stares down at his hand, hypnotized.

“Clean up your mess,” Alex says and when Henry doesn’t seem to register what he’s saying, he gently places his fingertips on Henry’s mouth. Henry opens his mouth and sucks them in, tasting himself on Alex’s finger. The flush on his cheeks is pinker than ever.

Once it’s thoroughly clean, Alex draws his hand back and kisses Henry.

“Thank you, angel,” he says against Henry’s lips and Henry melts into it. They stay suspended there for a few beats, before Alex gives one last nip to the other’s mouth and pulls away.

“My turn?” he asks and Henry blinks at him, dazed, before nodding.

Alex maneuvers them so that Henry’s sprawled on the car seats now, his back to Alex, back arched. That silver body chain glints in the light. Alex carefully wraps the length that goes down the spine, the part of the chain studded with pears around his hand.

His cock nudges at Henry’s entrance, already damp with precum and Henry’s slick getting everywhere. It glistens in the moonlight as well, a much more lewd sight than those beautiful body chains.

“You’re a dichotomy,” he says, languidly, and yanks the chain back. He doesn’t exert too much force—not enough to break the delicate jewlery—but it’s enough to haul Henry onto his dick. Henry mewls from the sudden intrusion, his toes curling. “Did you know that, Fox?”

Henry only lets out a garbled moan, his eyes rolling back as Alex fucks into him.

“You dress like a prince—so, shit, regal and put together. Not a hair out of place,” Alex pants as he rocks into Henry, rough and hard. His cock brushes against that sensitive spot in Henry, and Henry wails—half from pleasure, half from oversensitivity. Still, he doesn’t say their safe word and he doesn’t push Alex away. So Alex keeps going. “But you love being taken and fucked like a little slut.”

His hips slam into Henry at a fast pace, fucking little punched-out noises from Henry. Henry reaches back and Alex uses his free hand not holding the body chain to hold onto it. He brings Henry’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it.

Admiring, reverent, soft.

The kiss is contrasted with how hard he’s fucking into Henry now, pushing the other man up the seats with every thrust.

“‘N-not a slut,” Henry mewls.

“Hm?” Alex looks at him, as he hammers against Henry’s prostate. “What was that?”

“‘M your slut,” Henry babbles, blissed-out eyes rolling back in his skull. “I’m yours.”

Fuck.

Alex’s hips stutter, his own orgasm impending. He’s close.

“Yeah? Imagine if everyone at the party knew what we were doing—if they knew how you were getting your needy little hole pounded and squirting all over the leather seats of your fancy fucking car. F-fuck, if they could only see that pretty face that you make when you cum your brains out—the one where y-your eyes roll back and you start to cry from how good you feel,” he leans down and traces his tongue over the shell of Henry’s ear. “Would my little slut like, ngh, that?”

Henry nods frantically, his back perfectly curved.

Alex laughs, breathy.

“Too bad,” he murmurs into Henry’s ear. “You’re mine to admire, mine to fuck, and mine to see like t-this.”

Henry spasms around him—violent contractions around Alex’s cock that nearly make him see the light.

“Want someone else to watch you fall apart like this?” Alex tugs at the pearl earring again with his teeth. All he can feel is Henry, all he can taste is Henry, all he can see is HenryHenryHenry—his own personal daydream manifested into reality. The smell of raspberries and rain are all he can smell. “Dream on. I’m yours, but you’re also mine, baby. Nobody else is getting you like this.”

“Alex,” Henry squeals. “Alex.”

“Henry,” Alex breathes back. “Henry.”

They both cum at the same time, moaning like a pair of rabid animals, before slumping together.

Alex jostles Henry around a little, kissing his forehead apologetically, and pulls out. Henry’s hole clenches around nothing, fluttering prettily, and Alex fights the urge to eat him out right here and now, until Henry is sobbing his pretty eyes out and begging Alex for mercy.

Instead, he pulls away and begins wiping Henry off with his own shirt.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs against Henry’s lips. “You did so well for me. You’re perfect.”

“And you’re paying for the cleaning bill for the car,” Henry rasps.

“That’s up for debate,” Alex lies, and kisses Henry’s cheek. Henry laughs and that’s that.

They struggle into their clothes in the cramped space, jostling each other and laughing when they accidentally knock foreheads.

“So,” Alex says, pulling on a sock. “Did I revamp the car sex experience for you or what?”

“We are never fucking in a car again,” Henry replies, then squints. “I think you put my shirt on.”

“No wonder it was a little small,” Alex exclaims, shucking it off.

“It’s a little tighter on the chest for you.”

“Were you looking at my bosom, princess? How indecent. I should have you hanged for this.”

Eventually, after some trial and error, they manage to get decent—with their proper clothing.

They lay together, arms wrapped around each other, not quite yet willing to go back. When the clock strikes twelve, they’re still there, Alex’s hand resting on Henry’s spine and Henry’s hand carded loosely through Alex’s hair.

“Happy New Year, love,” Henry whispers in the air between them.

“Happy New Year, baby,” Alex says back and they seal it with a kiss.

Alex breathes in Henry’s scent, and the words fight to escape the tip of his tongue. He needs to be logical about it. Needs to sit down and assess his next move. Maybe he could see whether or not Henry liked him back, using observation. He needed a few days for that, but then—

“Hey,” they both say at the same time.

Henry laughs, his mirth like bell chimes, and Alex smiles, his grin dopey and too wide.

“You first,” he says, and after some waffling, Henry finally speaks.

“My heat is coming up.”

“Oh,” Alex nods. “Okay, thanks for telling me.” Heats were only bi-annual and it wasn’t hard to stay with someone for a week while Henry worked it out in their apartment. “When should I head over to June’s?”

“Actually,” Henry pauses, his cheeks dusted with a light pink. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay.”

Alex pauses, his heart drumming wildly in his chest.

“Stay?” he croaks, wondering if his hearing had suddenly failed him. Or if his lovesick brain was creating grand delusions in his head. Was Henry really asking him to stay for his heat? Didn’t omegas only accept partners as their heat companions? Partners as in…romantic partners?

Alex’s head spins.

“Really?” he chokes out.

“Really,” Henry nods, apprehensively. “I-if you want to. It’s absolutely fine if you don’t.”

“No!” Alex shouts and Henry jumps. “No,” Alex says in a much more normal volume. “No, I would love to. It would be my honor. I’ll treat you well, sweetheart. I-I’ll take care of you.”

Henry smiles, his eyes amused.

“Really now?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“What if I want a baby?” Henry asks and Alex nearly keels over. “Just kidding.”

“Henry, I almost died,” Alex croaks, a hand pressed to his forehead. “Like my life genuinely flashed before my eyes, I think I saw God. Please.”

Henry chuckles, but that gleam in his eyes dims a little.

“So you don’t want to give me a baby?” it’s said like a joke, light and breezy, but Alex has been slowly learning how to read between the lines of Henry’s tones. He was someone who was never allowed to voice what he wanted growing up; Alex was raised to always have his heart on his sleeve. They were different to the core, but yet…

They’re both learning.

“I’ll give you a baby if you want,” Alex says, pulling Henry closer to him. “I’ll give you a hundred, no, a thousand babies if you ask. I just was surprised you said that, that’s all.”

“I don’t think you could physically give me a hundred babies, just from a biological standpoint,” Henry’s eyes turn soft and sweet, like honey and molasses. “And I don’t want one now, but, thank you, Alex.”

Alex’s heart swells.

“Of course. I care about you,” he says. “You’re my—”

He pauses, and then feels the blood drain from his face.

Fuck.

He remembers then, the important stipulations that Henry had put on their casual friends-with-benefits situation.

1. No heats together.

This rule, Henry had just changed. Alex doesn’t really know what to make of the change, but it had been Henry’s call. If he wanted to change a rule pertaining to his comfort and privacy, Alex wasn’t wasn’t one to question it.

2. Both he and Henry have the right to end the agreement, no matter what.

And number 3:

3. If Alex’s opinion of Henry ever changes, he needs to end it—per Henry’s request.

Alex had considered Henry nothing more than a friend—albeit a close one—and a roommate when they agreed to this agreement. He had even told Henry as much, saying that Henry was his friend and that nothing Henry did could ever change that opinion. It was only this opinion that pushed Henry to take the final jump and agree to be friends with benefits.

“You’re my friend, Henry. You’ll always be my friend.”

However, now things were different.

Now, Alex really likes Henry. ‘Like’ as in the I-want-to-buy-chocolates-for-you-and-slow-dance-with-you-until-we’re-both-gray-and-old type of ‘like.’ He no longer considered Henry just his friend, but the object of his affection. He had fallen for him.

And Henry had made it clear in his rules that changes in their friendship should result in the termination of their friends-with-benefits situation. Maybe he didn’t want Alex to fall for him. After all, he didn’t seem to do relationships. He might have been worried that Alex—monogamist Alex who rarely, if ever, engaged in casual sex—would start blurring the lines between sex and affection.

And with a sinking pit in his stomach, Alex realizes that that was exactly what happened.

All the joy and elation curling in his gut at Henry’s invitation vanishes in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want to do this, but he had agreed to Henry’s rules. The rules that were set as their boundaries, set to make sure nobody ever overstepped or made the other uncomfortable. If he ignored them now, he would be breaking Henry’s trust; and Alex couldn’t allow for that.

Alex sits upright, dislodging Henry off of him gently.

“Alex?” Henry asks, surprised.

“Sorry,” he says, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I don’t think I should spend your heat with you.”

Henry’s face goes through several expressions, flashing too quickly for Alex to make out and label individually. He sees shock and confusion, disappointment and hurt; and while those expressions that were caused by his hand are a knife to the heart, the one that stings most is the acceptance on Henry’s face.

Almost like he expected this to happen.

“Okay,” he says, blankly. Henry Fox is beautiful bathed in moonlight, caressed by the touch of the moon goddess Selene. He’s untouchable and cold; and oh, how Alex wants to kiss him. He keeps his hands firmly to his side. “That’s alright.”

“I like you,” Alex wants to scream, to howl, to cry out. “I like you, Henry.”

But for once in his life, the words stick to his throat, refusing to spill free. For once, he’s terrified of what Henry will say in response; and the rejection that is sure to follow.

“Actually, I think,” he swallows and says, instead, “I think we should end this.”

There’s no expression on Henry’s face this time, just the perfect, placid Prince Charming mask that makes Alex want to hurl something or smash it to pieces. He looks like the Henry that Alex had first met. He looks almost like a stranger.

“Okay,” Henry says. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t question, doesn’t fight back. “I understand.”

It’s hard to return to who they were before the sex.

For one, Alex finds himself unconsciously seeking Henry for his touch and for his company, constantly. It’s not what friends do, but Alex had become so used to it, that it’s strange when it’s all gone. More than once, he finds himself grasping for Henry’s hand only to barely catch himself.

Henry maintains his distance, as cool and calm, as ever. He laughs at Alex’s jokes when they talk. Smiles at him politely. Asks him how his day is every time they see each other. But they never touch and their conversations are always brief and meaningless—nothing like before, like their conversation on the balcony. The difference resonates and aches in Alex.

He wants to grab Henry by the shoulders and confess everything to him. I like you, I like you, I really fucking like you. But fear renders him unusually silent.

He promised Henry that he would end things if his feelings ever changed. If Henry knew that Alex had fallen for him and wanted more than sex, Henry would reject him and maybe he would even leave. And Alex didn’t want that. He wanted Henry in his life, friend or not; the thought of losing him is enough to keep the confession from spilling out from his lips.

When Henry’s heat rolls around, Alex packs his bags and heads to June’s apartment.

She raises her brow seeing him, but takes him in—like the saint that she is. And Alex tries to go about him, trying not feel like there’s a hole in his chest every time he breathes.

He gets a call on the second day, just as he’s walking out of the shower, and he takes it without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

The sound of nothing fills the receiver. Alex pauses.

“Hello?”

Still silence. Must be a prank call or something, he goes to hang up and move on with his day. Then, he freezes, as he catches a glimpse of his screen.

Henry’s contact number blinks back at him.

“Henry?” Alex puts the phone back against his ear, worry coursing through him at Henry’s silence. “Henry, are you okay? Are you there?”

Henry lets out a low noise into the receiver and he sounds like he’s in pain. Alex’s heart squeezes in his chest—the pain like a thousand knives—and he scrambles for his keys.

“Henry?” he asks, frantic.

“Alex,” Henry gasps. “Please.”

“Do you need help?” Alex asks, pulling on a shirt. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

“I need you,” Henry’s voice, scratchy and low, filters through the receiver and Alex pauses. He can hear the pain in his voice, but he can also make out the raw unbridled lust underlying it.

Oh.

He comes to a halt.

“You’re in heat,” Alex says, stupidly.

“I need you,” Henry moans again, and Alex’s traitorous dick twitches—trained to respond to Henry’s noises and Henry alone. “It hurts, I-I, ngh, want you here. I need you to fuck me, alpha, I need you so much.”

Alex’s hand clenches tight around his phone.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and tries very hard to run back home this instant, his clothes be damned. “You need to take a sip of water. Can you do that for me?”

“Alex,” Henry mewls. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

“I would like to do nothing more, believe me,” Alex rasps. “But you need to drink some water first.”

It takes some more cajoling but eventually, Henry does. Alex hears his throat working as he swallows down the water and lets out a breath of relief.

“Very good, Fox,” he says and Henry whines. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Now will you come here?” Henry demands, “P-Please come here.” He sounds so wanton, so desperate for it; Alex grits his teeth to keep himself from conjuring up a mental picture of Henry sprawled on his bed—his slick glistening on his perfect thighs, cheeks glowing pink with want.

“I can’t,” Alex says. “You know I can’t.”

“I want you,” Henry pants again. Alex hears shuffling and the distant sounds of something slick. He swallows, mouth suddenly parched.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks and Henry moans, which is answer enough.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks. When Henry doesn’t answer, his moans only growing louder by the second, Alex says asks, his voice tinging on desperate. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Ngh, fingering myself,” Henry answers after a beat. “It’s not enough.”

Alex bites down on his lip, hard enough to bleed.

“It’s not enough,” Henry repeats and Alex can practically see him now, one hand wrapped around his pretty leaking cock and the other fucking into himself, searching for that spot that never fails to make Henry lose his mind. “I, ah, I want it to be your cock instead. I need you to take me and, hngh, fill me up.”

He lets out a sniffle and Alex sits down.

“Henry?”

“I can’t reach,” he hisses, low and anguished, and something in Alex snaps at the sound. “I can’t—!”

“You can,” Alex coaxes. “How many fingers?”

“T-two.”

“Add one more,” Alex instructs and he hears when Henry does so, the whine of pleasure that floats through the receiver like a siren’s call. His stomach clenches at the sound, his cock stirring at the sound of his omega’s pleasure.

He’s not your omega, a tiny voice in Alex’s brain says, but it’s silenced by Henry’s sob.

“How do you feel?” Alex asks.

“Empty,” Henry whines, and Alex laughs, despite the lust clouding his every thought.

“Size queen,” he teases, and Henry half-mewls, half-chuckles. It’s a sweet sound. Alex grins.

“Still feeling empty, even after three fingers?” Alex asks. “You’re so greedy, princess. You can only feel full when you got an alpha cock splitting you wide open, isn’t that right?”

“Yours,” Henry moans, “Your cock.”

The possessive part of Alex rears its head yet again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry seems to be fucking himself faster, harder. “So big, so good. Only you can make me feel good. Nobody can make, ah, me f-fall apart like you do.”

Fuck.

“Only me?” Alex rasps. “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” Henry pants.

“Are you touching your cock?” Alex asks, desperately. “Stroking your pretty dick for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Henry chants. “I w-want you to suck me off, want to fuck your mouth. Need you. I need you so much, Alex.”

“God,” Alex swears. “I want that too. Want you to stuff my throat full, want you to use me until I’m hoarse, omega. I want you to take everything you want.”

“Come here,” Henry keens. “Please come here, love.”

“Believe me,” Alex repeats. “I want to.”

“W-what would you do if you were here?” Henry asks, his words almost slurred. Alex swallows. He’s so hard, that he can feel himself leaking—his own precum dripping down his thighs. He fights the urge to fist it and chase after his own pleasure: He’s here for Henry. His own needs are inconsequential at the moment.

“I would do anything you asked. I’d let you use me for y-your pleasure, I’d kneel at your feet while you ride my face and fuck my throat raw, over and over again.”

Henry mewls.

“I’d take you,” Alex continues, his own words becoming muddled with lust and want. “Bend you over the couch, the kitchen counter, anywhere. I’d fuck your brains out, deep and rough, until you’re cumming so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

“Alex,” Henry sobs. “Alex, please.”

“Then,” Alex blabbers. “I’d wash you in the shower, running shampoo over your hair and cleaning the cum off your body. I’d make you my soup that you really like, Sopa de Fideo. I’d hold you close and watch you sleep, counting the moles on your body until I memorized them all.”

“Close,” Henry’s chanting, probably lost to the throes of sex and heat and want. Alex can’t keep himself from talking, his words pouring out.

“We’d go again like this, every day, until you grow sick of it,” Alex moans. “I would do everything for you, baby.”

“Never,” Henry pants. “I w-won’t get sick of it. I need you. I want you. I-I love you.”

He cums then, with a barely cut-off scream, like he’s muffling himself with a pillow.

Alex holds his phone to his ear.

I love you.

Hope blooms in his chest, quickly dampened by the reality of the situation. Henry’s stupid from his heat—utterly drunk from lust and not in his right mind. He would say this to any alpha, beta, or omega who was in Alex’s shoes. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

Still, that doesn’t stop tendrils of hope that maybe, just maybe, Henry also returns his feelings, from creeping up his heart.

“I love you,” Henry repeats, sniffling, after he’s come down from his orgasm. “You hear me? I love you, Alex.”

“That’s your heat talking,” Alex rasps.

“Ask me after m-my heat,” Henry says. “It’s the, ngh, truth. It’s always been the truth.”

Alex shakes his head. He’s in heat, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

But, a tiny part of him whispers, but, what if he’s telling the truth?

“W-what about you?” Henry asks, his voice is sweet and cautious—even while dripping with heat-soaked pleasure. “Do you…?”

“Of course,” Alex is helpless, lost to Henry’s voice, Henry’s passion, Henry’s everything. “How could I not?”

“Then, come here,” Henry urges.

“Why don’t I make you cum again?” Alex asks, coaxing and gentle. “How does that sound?”

Henry harrumphs, but when he’s crying through his second orgasm, saying Alex’s name like a prayer, he doesn’t seem to hold any complaints. Alex cums untouched to the sound of his name on Henry’s tongue.

He stays with Henry on the phone for the entire day, and when Henry calls again the next day, Alex is there to pick up on the first ring. They go like this for the week: Alex working Henry to the brink, ruining him with just his words, then piecing him back together.

All the while, Henry’s confession rings in his head, echoing and ricocheting in both his waking moments and in sleep.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Alex, the selfish bastard that he is, prays every day that Henry really meant those three little words.

On the last day of Henry’s heat, he texts Alex, instead of his usual phone calls.

Alex gets the message toward the end of a lecture—turning his phone over and seeing new message notifications from Henry. His heart picks up a million paces and he sits bolt upright.

Henry:

Come back home. I’m okay now.

We need to talk.

Alex shoves his books into his bag.

“Where are you going?” Amber whispers, as he stuffs his laptop in with his notebook. “There’s still five minutes left.”

“I’m,” Alex gestures, vaguely.

Amber looks at him, then at his phone, held tight in his hand. Her smile is knowing.

“Have a good one,” she says. “I’ll send you my notes.”

“Thanks,” Alex whispers and ducks out of the lecture.

He would like to say that he headed home with confidence—with eagerness, sure—but with a casual swagger to him. In all honesty, he probably bolts home like there’s a serial killer hot on his trail. He can’t remember the journey, but it takes both too much time and none at all.

He’s a few feet away from their apartment building when he doubles back and runs down the street. He buys a bouquet—Henry had mentioned that he liked lilies once—then he jogs back to the apartment. He’s halfway up the stairs when he doubles back and runs out. Henry liked chocolates too, especially from the chocolate store down the block. He buys a box and, panting, he finally heads back home.

When he makes it to their front door, he’s sweaty from both the running back and forth as well as the sheer amount of nerves buzzing through his body. He probably looks like a right mess and not at all swoon-worthy, but he can’t prolong this any further. The need to see Henry is a rope in his chest—tugging him forward into Henry’s orbit, the pull impossible to resist.

He knocks on the door.

Then, stupidly, he remembers he has a key. It’s his home too, for God’s sake. But his hands are full of flowers and chocolates; and he really doesn’t think he can move right now, without keeling over on the spot. So, he stays frozen still.

It takes a beat, but the door is eventually pulled open. The faint smell of raspberries and rain fills Alex’s nose, remnants of Henry’s heat, and Alex fights the urge to inhale deeply.

Henry stands before him, his clothing as immaculate and put together as ever. His eyes are an ever-changing pattern of green, gold, blue, and brown and his cheekbones are brutally sharp lines. He’s composed of curves and edges; a gentle mouth that can come up with the wittiest of quips and dirtiest of jokes, and bulging biceps meant to carry the world. He’s golden and so beautiful.

And Alex wants him, more than he’s ever wanted any other person—alpha, beta, or omega—in his life. He wants Henry more than he wants anything in his life.

“Alex, we need to talk. About what I said during my heat—” Henry starts, before he’s cut off by a bouquet being shoved in his face.

“I love you!” Alex shouts.

Henry spits out a lily petal and stares at Alex, his eyes going wide.

He’s interrupted again by Alex pushing the box of chocolate into his arms too.

“I know we,” Alex swallows. “I know we agreed that our arrangement is physical—that it’s just sex, nothing more and nothing less. And I know we agreed that we should end things if our feelings for each other change, but—I can’t deny it anymore. I really, really like you. Everything about you—your smile, your humor, your beauty, your bad moods and good ones—I like it all.”

Henry stares at him, the flush on his face growing brighter.

“Alex—”

“I like you so much, I feel like I’m going to explode,” Alex says, because he’s usually more eloquent than this, but under Henry’s gaze, he’s rendered tongue-tied. “I don’t know how it happened, but, it did. That’s why I ended our arrangement, to respect our boundaries and our agreement, but I-I need to tell you how I feel. How I feel about you, I don’t think I can hide it, especially from you—you deserve to be loved proudly and loudly. You deserve everything.”

Henry looks kind of like a tomato right now. It’s cute, if not a little alarming.

“You don’t have to accept my feelings,” Alex says. “I can move out if you don’t feel comfortable, I won’t even talk to you again, if you say the word. But, I just wanted to tell you how I felt. I wanted you to feel how much I admire you—every inch of you. I just—” he coughs, completely forgetting what else he was going to say, despite writing and rewriting a speech in his head on his entire journey back home.

“—I just like you, Henry,” he finishes, lamely. “Uh, so, yeah. Sorry, I cut you off before. What were you going to say?”

Henry drops the bouquet and boxes, and for a split second, Alex wonders if he hates it—if maybe Henry actually likes lilacs, not lilies; if he dislikes the taste of chocolate even though Alex has seen him inhale, like, a pound of pure chocolate once. Then, he’s throwing himself forward, grabbing Alex’s face, and—

—Henry is kissing Alex.

They’re kissing—lips meeting teeth and tongue—and it feels like a hello. It feels good, right, and Alex sinks into it. He grabs Henry’s waist and pulls him close, until their chest press against one another, and even that isn’t enough. He needs to meld together with Henry, to entangle so completely with the other that neither of them would be able to find out where Alex began and Henry ended.

“I like you,” Henry whispers back. “I really like you too, Alexander.”

His words warm Alex from the inside and out, turning him golden too.

It feels like they kiss for minutes, hours, days, centuries, and even that is not enough.

“I thought you ended our arrangement because you figured out how much I like you,” Henry whispers against his lips. “I thought you saw right through me and you backed away because of it. I thought you didn’t want to fuck me anymore because you knew how much I was pining after you.”

“No!” Alex nearly yelps. “That’s not it at all.”

He traces circles on Henry’s hip bones.

“You told me to end it if my feelings for you ever changed,” he rasps, licking into Henry’s mouth. “My feelings have changed. I fell for you, hard. I thought that rule was to warn me off of developing feelings for you and when it happened, I don’t know, I wanted to respect you. So I backed off. God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Henry nips at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry too. We’re just, ah, really stupid.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Alex jokes, but he smiles as Henry tugs on his hair. Honestly, he doesn’t think he can stop grinning.

Henry kisses him hard on the mouth, then leans back to laugh, the sound almost incredulous. “I-I’ve thought about doing this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Alex holds him close, breathing in the scent of rain and raspberries. Their foreheads brush and Henry smiles up at him, his impossibly beautiful eyes curving like a pair of crescent moons.

“I like you,” he confesses again, and Christ, how Alex adores him.

“Oo,” Alex croons, wrapping an arm around Henry’s shoulders and drawing him in close. “My roommate has a crush on me? How scandalous.”

He presses a kiss to Henry’s temple and Henry melts into it. Alex’s heart swells, ballooning and filling his chest completely.

“I mean, you’re just okay, Claremont-Diaz,” Henry says, nonchalantly.

“I’ll show you ‘just okay,’ Fox,” Alex mutters and leans in to crush their mouths together.

There’s nothing casual about the way Henry tugs him into the apartment by the lapels of his coat; nothing casual about the way he fucks Henry against the door until Henry’s legs give out, nothing casual about how they moan and sob into each other’s mouths; nothing casual about their laughs and whispered confessions of love.

But neither of them cares about that too much.