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“What’s got you so unpleasant this morning?”
Alex shoots Nora an apathetic middle finger and flops his throbbing head back against the arm of the couch. Irritation churns beneath his ribcage, curdling under his sternum, and he swallows it down, trying to remind himself that his mood isn’t Nora’s fault.
It’s not even a bad mood.
He’s just… contemplative. And hungover. It’s not a particularly fun combination.
She ignores his attempt to ward her off and moves his legs to sit down at the opposite cushion from his head, settling his feet in her lap. There’s a pause as she waits for him to talk, probably expecting him to tell her everything on his mind.
He hasn’t decided if he wants to yet.
“Leave me alone,” Alex grumbles, closing his eyes against the swirl of nausea in his stomach. He isn’t sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is his newfound emotion wreaking havoc—it’s hard to tell the difference. “Or go the fuck away.”
“You slept on my goddamn couch,” Nora tells him, pinching his calf and making Alex squirm. “If anyone is going away, it's you.”
Alex huffs. “Fine. I’m sorry, but can you just—”
“Nope,” Nora enunciates, as persistent as ever. Alex imagines her falling into a vat of panicked mice, immediately feeling guilty for it. “You were completely fucking fine last night, and I need to know why you're practically crying on my couch this morning. This isn’t hungover Alex—I know, because I like him better than… whatever this shitty mess is.”
“First of all, I am not crying on your—”
“Fucking spill, Alejandro.”
“I like Henry,” Alex blurts in a rush, his brain deciding to disclose the information without his permission. He winces as heat rises in his cheeks, making him feel vulnerable and itchy from inside his chest.
An incredulous laugh bubbles from Nora’s throat. “You what Henry?”
“I…” Alex grimaces, but he knows that if he doesn’t actually talk about this, he’s going to lose his head. Right now, Nora is his best—and only—option. “I like Henry.”
Nora blinks as if she’s fucking rebooting, her hand absentmindedly tightening around his ankle. Alex waits with his face on fire, the confession hanging in the air between them like a butcher’s hook—one wrong move, and Alex thinks it might catch on his throat and rip him open.
“Elaborate,” Nora says, no hint of teasing in her voice. “Now.”
“Last night, I…” Alex blows out a breath, rubbing his eyes as he pictures it again. “He was sitting next to me while we were playing Drunk Jenga, and when he looked over at me… God, he’s so fucking beautiful. I knew that, because duh, right? But he smiled at me, with his eyes all crinkly and cute, and I was so happy to be beside him, and it just… hit me.”
“It hit you,” Nora repeats, slow and drawn out.
“I wanted to kiss him,” Alex admits, chewing on his bottom lip. “And like, buy him dinner and give him things, like blow jobs and daisies.”
“Daisies.”
“They’re his favorite flower.” Alex glances over to find Nora with her lips pursed and brow furrowed. “Are you going to keep repeating everything I say or are you going to be fucking useful?”
Her gaze cuts to him, sharp and steady. “You just admitted you want Henry’s dick in your mouth. I need a fucking second to process this.”
“Well, by all means. Take your goddamn time.” Alex makes a jerking off gesture in her direction, immediately punished by a sharp twinge of pain behind his forehead. “It’s not like I’m the one who just realized I want Henry’s dick in my mouth. I’m processing that fine, by the way, thanks for asking. So, please, deal with this however you need to.”
Alex closes his eyes again and rests his pounding temple against the plush armrest behind him, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger while the silence lingers. It offers an infinitesimal amount of relief, but then he’s thinking about Henry’s soft lips again and the way his hair falls over his forehead and the way that he always smells so clean and—
“Holy fucking shit.”
And there it is.
“Yep.”
“Haven't you known him since you were like, what? Twelve?”
“Ten,” Alex tells her, hiding his face behind his palm. “We went to middle school together.”
“And you’re just now realizing you’re in love with him, at the ripe age of twenty–fucking-four.”
“I’m a late bloomer, historically.” Alex cracks open an eye to look at her. “And I didn't say I was in love with him.”
“You are literally lovesick on my couch right now.”
“And I regret that decision.”
“You absolutely love him, and Henry is—” Nora stops, eyes widening. “Oh my God. What will your wedding colors be? I vote like, a royal blue mixed with a peachy color. Or salmon. June will have ideas for sure, and—”
Alex sits up, the room spinning a little when he interrupts. “Slow the fuck down, Jesus Christ.”
“No, right. You have to tell him first, but like… come on. Anyone with eyes knows that he's completely obsessed with you. You were the wild card, and now you're all heart-eyed, and—”
“Nora.” Alex's stomach twists, a weird taste blooming in the back of his mouth. “Stop.”
She frowns at him. “What?”
“I’m…” Alex pulls his feet from her lap, curling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I’m fucking scared, dude. He’s my roommate and has been my best friend for more than a decade. What if… What if you’re wrong?”
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“I just meant—” Alex huffs, running a hand through his hair and wincing when his fingers get caught on a knot. “It’s risky and new to me, all of… this.” He waves a hand in front of his chest. “I want to… feel it out?”
“Feel it out?”
“Stop parroting me, you fucking menace.”
Nora glares but nods, her black stiletto nails tapping against her thigh as she considers him. “Okay. I get it. You’re dumb as shit, but I get it.”
“Thanks,” Alex deadpans. “What would I do without your unwavering and affectionate support?”
“You're welcome,” Nora replies, obnoxious and cheeky.
“So what do I do?” Alex asks anyway, propping his chin on his knee. “How do I even… start to figure that out?”
“I think I could help with that, actually.”
Alex considers her, feeling uneasy in a way that he didn’t before. “How?”
A wicked grin spreads across Nora’s face. “Do I have permission to be chaotic?”
“I didn’t realize you had to ask permission.”
Nora stands, ruffling Alex’s hair as she walks by him. “I don’t. That was just a courtesy.”
“I'm terrified of you!” Alex calls out as she walks away.
Nora cackles as she rounds the corner into her kitchen. Alex is reminded of those cartoon witches from his childhood—green skin, warts on the nose, black cats around their feet, a monstrous cauldron boiling body parts in a secret basement. He has to fight back a shudder.
She shouts, “Love you, too!” from two rooms away, and Alex groans at the loud, unadulterated glee in her voice.
Alex puts his head back down and closes his eyes.
Maybe if he sleeps, he can pretend that everything will be fine.
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“I can't believe you drank that.”
“I’ve had worse things in my mouth, Alejandro.”
“I think half of that mixture was fucking expired.”
“Just admit that I'm stronger willed than you and move on.”
“I don't know if will had anything to do with that.”
Nora plops back down on the floor beside June, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you say so, babe.”
“Actually, I think that you're a goddamn—”
“Okay, okay. Quit it, kids. Alex, your turn.” June points at him, vaguely threatening. “Truth or dare.”
Alex rolls his eyes, acutely aware of his elbow touching Henry's arm. “Dare, obviously.”
“Dangerous,” Henry mumbles, and Alex swears he leans closer.
It’s a challenge for Alex not to gravitate toward him, to seek out his body heat. It’s been nearly two weeks since Alex had his drunken realization, and he’s no closer to figuring out if any of those feelings might be reciprocated.
It might be driving him, and by association, June and Nora, fucking crazy.
“I dare you…” June exchanges a weighty glance with Nora. “... to kiss Henry.”
Next to Alex, Henry stills. “What?”
Alex feels like his breath is sticking to the walls of his lungs when he exhales. He cuts his eyes over to Henry, trying to decipher something—anything—about how he might be feeling. There’s a small wrinkle between his eyebrows as his tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip. It makes Alex have to look away, the cells of his skin vibrating at the idea of his own tongue taking the same path.
Alex peers at Nora, trying to communicate his anxiety with his eyes. He knows that this must have been her idea, and she’s roped June into it.
And this isn't what he meant. He should have known Nora would approach the situation with the care and subtlety of a fucking nuke.
Oh, God. He might throw up.
That last shot of tequila was a terrible idea.
Trusting Nora with sensitive information was a terrible idea.
Being fucking born was a terrible idea.
“Kiss Henry?” Alex repeats, trying to sound nonchalant despite the panic seizing his throat. “Is that a fair dare? It involves two people.”
“Are you concerned with consent?” Pez asks, scooting to the edge of his chair as if he’s gotten to the climax of his favorite show. “I doubt you’ll have much trouble.”
Nora sighs. “Henry, does Alex have consent to kiss you?”
Henry blinks, his gaze moving to Alex’s face. His expression almost matches how Alex feels—caught off guard, maybe a little nauseous. He wonders if everyone else can see it, too, or if he’s just projecting.
“It would be fine with me,” Henry says, voice coming out rough. He clears his throat before adding, “I don’t mind.”
I don’t mind isn’t exactly the enthusiasm that Alex would have hoped for, but it is permission. Maybe he can garner something from how Henry reacts, even if it leads to a heart wrenching rejection. If the kiss is awful or Henry seems put off by it, fine. Alex will tend to his wounds and do his best to move on. At least then, he’ll know.
It’ll fucking suck, but he’ll know.
“Perfect,” June says. “Alex? Gonna back out on us?”
“Hell no,” Alex says reflexively, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t back out of fucking dares, so if it’s cool with Henry, then we’re doing it.”
June grins, like Alex answered some unasked question exactly how she wanted. “Have at it, then.”
Right.
Trying not to let himself tremble, Alex shifts to face Henry. He licks his lips, somehow feeling like his mouth is too dry and that there’s too much saliva pooling around his teeth all at the same time. Still, he catches Henry’s gaze following the trail that his tongue takes, his attention lingering before it jumps back up to Alex’s eyes.
It feels promising, at least. For a moment, Alex lets himself hope that this will be what pushes them into… something. If Henry is even somewhat interested, maybe Alex can convince him to try subsequent kisses if their first goes well.
Or maybe the ensuing disaster will be something they laugh about for years to come, haunting Alex until the day he dies.
Either way, it’s a single kiss for a silly game of Truth or Dare. There’s enough alcohol in their systems that it’s excusable, if having underdeveloped prefrontal cortexes wasn’t already sufficient.
Alex leans closer to Henry’s face, trying to recall everything he knows about kissing someone and wondering why it’s all nowhere to be found in his memory. He's definitely fucking kissed people before. He knows the mechanics. His lips just feel weird and numb, and he might still throw up.
It could be his only chance, though. When will he have reason to do this again?
Even if it does go badly, he wants to know what it feels like.
Bracing himself, Alex sways forward. He can feel Henry’s breath on his lips, so close to him that Alex is afraid he might lose his balance and topple face first into Henry's lap. Alex inhales, swallows, and moves to bridge that final distance.
“Wait, June.” Nora’s voice makes them jump apart, and Alex's gut churns as he looks over. “This feels too easy. I did just drink a questionable mixture of liquids from Pez’s refrigerator. Why don’t we make this a little more fucking interesting?”
June doesn’t seem surprised by the interruption, grinning over at Nora. “You know, you might be right, babe.”
“What do you mean?” Henry asks, his throat moving.
Nora purses her lips, as if she’s giving the question serious consideration.
But Alex knows that face. He hasn’t known Nora his entire life, but he understands her well enough to know that this thoughtful expression is a fucking lie. A dare to kiss Henry wasn’t her complete plan. Alex should have guessed—it wasn’t nearly chaotic enough to warrant her time and energy.
No, Nora’s plan included whatever she’s pretending to come up with now, on the spot, that has been stirring in her brain ever since Alex admitted his feelings.
Dread settles in his chest before Nora even speaks.
“A thousand.”
Henry chokes. “I’m sorry?”
“I think it should be a thousand kisses.”
Pez gasps, eyes wide with delight as he places a hand over his heart. “A thousand?”
Alex’s throat is dry. “A thousand.”
“Now?” Henry looks terrified. “Or…”
“Within…” Nora glances at June, and Alex is abso-fucking-lutely going to give her shit for her acting later. “A month?”
June nods in agreement. “I think that sounds reasonable.”
Nora clicks her tongue. “If we go by 31 days, that’s 32.26 kisses per day. I think it’s doable, but still a challenge. Perfect for the game.”
“I’ve never experienced a dare that goes outside of the typical gaming period,” Henry says, his shoulder bumping into Alex’s as he curls a knee up to his chest. “How would we even keep track of such a thing?”
Nora directs a devilish, sideways grin at Alex, and the realization hits him like a goddamn freight train.
Henry didn’t say no.
His heart picks up speed, thudding against the confines of his ribcage. There’s a small part of Alex that recognizes the foot-in-the-door technique that his friends have successfully implemented, getting Henry to agree to one kiss before changing the rules.
But still.
Henry didn’t say no.
“Honor system,” June suggests with a smirk, not bothering to hide her mirth. “We’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Or you’ll tell someone the truth,” Pez snorts. “And we all talk, babes.”
“Alex will yap if Henry doesn’t, for sure,” June agrees.
“Okay, Jesus.” Alex glances at Henry, who looks more confused than put off, and asks, “And what counts as a kiss?”
“I am not giving you the birds and the bees talk right now,” Nora drawls, casting a sly glance at his sister. “That’s on June.”
“Absolutely not,” June and Alex say in synchronized dissent, which prompts the entire room to burst into laughter.
“It’s a valid question,” Henry adds, making a thrill run up Alex’s spine. “Will you honor kisses on cheeks or hands? Does…” Alex swears that Henry is blushing. “Would snogging earn additional kisses toward our final count?”
“You mean making out, right?” Nora tilts her head, like she’s trying to determine if this argument is a hill she should die on. She seems to decide against it, saying, “We probably should decide on specifics like that, though.”
“Hands, I vote no,” Pez says, pursing his lips. “I could be convinced to allow cheeks.”
Nora taps her chin. “For half a kiss.”
“Ooh, half is good.” June pulls out her phone, fingers swiping across the screen. “Okay, so no hands, yes cheeks, but only for half. What's the verdict for making out?”
“It's gotta count for more, especially how I do it,” Alex insists, his knee knocking into Henry's. “I'd say at least… ten for every minute?”
“So what's 30 seconds?” Nora asks, glancing at June's phone screen.
“Right.” Pez snaps his fingers. “How will we account for partial credit?”
Nora wrinkles her nose. “I think rounding is fine. To the closest fifteen second interval.”
June nods. “Seems fair.”
“You lot may be certifiably insane,” Henry accuses, but his lips twitch into an endeared smile. “Any other rules we should discuss?”
“Are other body parts going on the list?” June asks, as casually as if she were asking about pizza toppings.
Henry gulps, suddenly less amused. “What other body parts might we be discussing?”
Alex can't control his tongue, blurting, “What body parts do you wanna discuss, sweetheart?”
Blue eyes snap to him, and Henry blinks several times in rapid succession. “I—I didn't—”
“Alex, you saucy minx,” Pez teases, practically vibrating from where he's perched on the edge of his seat. “I think you've broken him.”
“Other body parts can be evaluated on a case-by-case basis?” June suggests, chewing on her bottom lip as she types it out in her notes. “Deal?”
“Sure,” Alex says quickly, feeling like he may be working on limited time to get this whole thing set into place. “In a month? So by the 21st of October?”
“Deal.” June puts her phone down just as everyone else’s phones vibrate, confirming receipt of the rules. “But you have to start now. We want at least one as like, a sign of good faith.”
Alex turns to Henry.
It’s fine. He’s freaking out on the inside, but it’s fine.
“That okay?” Alex asks.
“Yes,” Henry says, shrugging one shoulder. “Fine with me.”
Alex's heartbeat pounds a reckless rhythm, constricting at the impassive reaction from Henry. He wants to kiss Henry regardless, really, but apprehension is churning inside of his gut.
This isn't only some fucking dare to Alex—he wants it to matter.
That was the whole point, right?
It sends his mind into a frenzy, a desperate attempt to reconcile that he has explicit permission to kiss Henry with the possibility that it might not matter once the dare is done. Henry seems relatively unfazed as he angles himself toward Alex, like it doesn't make any difference to him whether this happens or not. Alex decides, in a split second, that he's going to take the opportunity he's been given, even if it causes him heartache in the end.
Maybe, just maybe, he can change Henry's mind before it's over.
He'll have time. He has tenacity.
It's worth a fucking shot.
Henry must register the restless energy racing around in Alex's mind, because one corner of his mouth twists upward in a reassuring smile. Alex's own lips curl in response, an unconscious reflection of Henry's expression that feels like something normal to grasp onto.
“Hi,” Alex breathes, lifting his hand to gently rest it on Henry's jaw.
“Hi,” Henry replies with a small roll of his eyes that Alex recognizes—fond exasperation for the lunatics they call friends.
“This is okay?” Alex asks again, just to make sure.
Henry dips his chin. “Yes. However, I would suggest investing in a good chapstick.”
“My lips are as soft as a baby's bottom, Fox.”
“Hm.” Henry's eyes slide to Alex's mouth, as if he's evaluating the truth of the statement. “So should I be expecting a strange diaper rash soon or…?”
It works the way he assumes Henry intended—Alex laughs, the sound trickling almost hysterically from his chest. Henry smiles, pleased, and Alex wants to taste that expression, in particular.
“This foreplay is truly titillating,” Nora deadpans, amusement thick in her dry tone.
“I'm gonna kiss you now,” Alex warns, tapping his thumb against Henry's cheek.
Henry leans closer, whispering, “They may riot if you don't.”
Alex giggles, and that is what he presses to Henry's mouth. Henry hums into it, his fingers wrapping around Alex's wrist as he kisses back. It's simple and sweet, a notch above a friendly peck, but Alex's blood sings in his veins anyway. Henry’s lips are soft and mold themselves to Alex’s mouth, like each dip and wrinkle of Henry is able to find a place to rest in the divots and ridges of Alex.
It’s really not much, but Alex melts.
Someone whoops, breaking them apart, but Alex doesn't let Henry go right away. Their foreheads touch as they open their eyes, the moment feeling frozen in time even with everyone watching them.
Alex smiles, his gaze darting from Henry’s wide eyes and back down to his soft lips. Henry’s breath hitches, his throat moving as he swallows. It's hard to pull back, but Alex remembers that they'll get to kiss again—999 times, exactly—and he lets Henry go.
“Well,” Alex murmurs, resisting the urge to run his tongue along his lips to taste Henry there. “That's one.”
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“Please tell me you already have coffee made.”
Henry smirks as Alex emerges from his bedroom, nodding his head toward their Keurig. “Heard the concerning thump from your room—”
“I stubbed my toe on my fucking dresser.”
“—and made your first cup.”
“Perfect,” Alex says, grabbing the mug and taking a generous gulp of dark roast with cinnamon. “You should probably kiss me good morning, you know.”
Henry blinks, fixing Alex with a dubious look. “And why is that?”
Alex's heart sinks, but he covers it up with a grin. “For the dare, obviously.”
“Right,” Henry allows, scratching at his jaw and the shadow of stubble that he hasn't shaved yet. “We did agree to that.”
Oh. Well.
The coffee in Alex's hands doesn't look appetizing anymore as Henry's words stab through him. The liquid swirls around and around in its mug in the same way that disappointment is rolling in his stomach, heavy and disorienting. He scrambles to think of something to say, a way to save his heart from further damage.
“I mean.” Alex's voice shakes, and he clears his throat. “If you don't want to—”
“I didn't say that, I just—” Henry blows out a breath, nose scrunching. “I was almost convinced I imagined that entire sequence of events.”
“Nope,” Alex drawls, rubbing his fingertip over the smooth nail of his thumb. “It definitely happened, but if you changed your mind then—”
“Well, no,” Henry interrupts for a second time, scratching at his neck again before lowering his hand quickly to his cup of tea. “I suppose they'll be checking in regularly to verify we're sticking with it, and I… I don't mind.”
Alex isn't sure why, but he blurts, “I'm a good fucking kisser, I swear.”
Henry's expression shifts, lips quirking upward. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” Alex pops, taking a step closer in a fit of bravery. Or insanity. “Might as well let me prove it.”
Henry turns, propping his hip against the counter and raising his eyebrow. “Go ahead, then.”
If he’s being honest, Alex did not expect that to work as well as it fucking did. He’s almost taken back by Henry’s forwardness, the way he’s watching Alex with an expectant gaze.
Alex's tongue wets his lips, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he moves into Henry's space. He knows he initiated this entire conversation, and they already kissed the night before, but the closer he gets, the more he realizes how different this actually is.
There aren't any other eyes on them this time, no one here to see if they're following through. Hypothetically, Alex knows they could lie about it, but everyone would probably find out eventually. Secrets don't tend to stay hidden long within their group of friends.
It's annoying as fuck most of the time, but it's always the truth. So faking anything would probably be pointless; worse than just backing out and being honest about it.
Plus, they did both agree to this.
And Henry's gaze drops to Alex's lips, eyes dark and hungry, sparking a flash of want that threatens to burn Alex alive. Alex might not always be able to read the expressions of others, but that definitely doesn't look like disinterest in Henry's heated stare.
“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Henry asks, his voice a husky whisper.
Oh. Alex is going to kiss the shit out of him just for that.
Alex wraps his palm around the nape of Henry's neck and, before he can talk himself out of it, yanks his friend into a searing kiss. Henry’s hands flatten on Alex’s spine, taking up so much surface area that it makes Alex feel enveloped and dizzy. His mouth is hard and unrelenting against Alex’s as he pushes back, walking forward until Alex’s ass hits the countertop.
Henry crowds him against the surface, every line of his body pressed against Alex. It makes Alex feel caught, the only space he can find coming when he slides a leg between Henry’s thighs. A moan vibrates against Alex’s lips at the movement, and Henry’s hand finds some of Alex’s hair and grips it to wrench his head back further. Alex groans at the sharp sensation, the pain that blends into pleasure as Henry's tongue plunges between Alex's lips. Alex opens up for him without hesitation, his hands scrambling for purchase at Henry's waist as the earth beneath his feet tilts and shakes.
It’s consuming and perfect and Alex is going to fucking die, because his heart is beating so fast that it may pound straight out of his body.
But it’s good. It’s so good.
This kiss is fierce and greedy, like they’ve both been dancing around each other for so long that the barrier keeping them apart finally broke and now—God, now they can’t get enough. This is everything that Alex didn’t know he wanted until two weeks ago, the missing piece of himself that’s always been right beside him, the only thing that makes sense in a godforsaken and cruel existence.
It feels like his. Maybe it’s always been his, in different forms that have shaped them and guided them to where they need to be. His friend, his confidant, his roommate—his Henry. Alex doesn’t know how he didn’t figure it out before, but now all of those years feel like wasted time, moments like this that they could have had together, but didn’t know how to ask for it.
But it all exists here, a coalescence of moments and wisps of who they are and who they’ve been and who they will be, all wrapped together in this kiss. Something shifts and falls into place in Alex’s chest as they get lost in that whirl, broken fragments mended together in the tangle of Henry’s tongue and the scrape of Henry’s teeth.
By the time Henry rips his mouth away, touching his forehead to Alex’s as he pants against Alex’s lips, Alex knows that he lied to Nora, and she was right.
He doesn’t like Henry.
He’s in fucking love with Henry.
It floods him like a tidal wave, swelling in his chest and spreading in his veins as his world rearranges, narrowing down to the feeling of Henry everywhere around him. Henry swallows, his hands flexing on Alex's waist, and it might be the only thing holding Alex up.
Alex steels himself, sucking in a breath and making sure his feet are on solid ground. He thinks they are, but he's not sure anymore.
And then his face spreads into a broad grin.
“Interesting,” Alex murmurs, pressing one more peck to Henry's mouth, just for good measure.
Henry presses back, almost chasing after the kiss when Alex pulls away.
“What is… interesting?” Henry asks, sounding a little breathless.
So many things. New and old and rediscovered tidbits of information all swirling in Alex's mind.
Alex holds his truth behind his teeth as he smiles, a tiny memento of this moment that he doesn’t want to let go of yet. Instead, he tells Henry, “You're a good kisser, too, baby.”
Alex pretends not to see Henry's blush as he walks away.
“I—that counts as snogging, right?” Henry calls out.
“Making out, Mary Poppins.” Alex pauses, biting his lip and releasing it before turning around. “Your tongue was in my mouth, so I'm going to say yes.”
“So twelve total?” Henry asks, throat moving. “That was about a minute, I think.”
“Twelve total,” Alex confirms, tucking his smile into his cheek as he slips into his room to get ready for the day.
Twelve down.
Only nine-hundred and eighty-eight to go.
And Alex is going to enjoy every single goddamn one of them.
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Their thirteenth and fourteenth kisses happen later that night, soft and gentle with them curled together on the couch. Alex asks permission first, and after, Henry tells Alex that it's probably easier if he doesn't ask every single time.
“I can just tell you if I don't want you to,” he explains, quiet but decided.
Alex agrees, holding Henry's jaw in his hand and pressing two more kisses to his lips, four more to his cheek just to hear the way it makes Henry giggle. Henry smiles and touches kiss number nineteen to Alex's mouth, a slight brush that still makes Alex's lips tingle even after Henry pulls away.
They keep watching television with Alex settled against Henry's side, laughing and existing together the way they always do. Like kissing each other is just a thing they do now. Like everything is normal.
And maybe it is.
They're on kiss thirty-one three days later when Alex finds Henry in their kitchen, sitting at the island and flipping through the news on his phone. He slides between Henry's spread thighs and says, “We gotta make out more.”
Henry puts his phone down and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Do we?”
“If we're gonna meet the deadline, I think we need to.” Alex shrugs one shoulder, like he hasn’t been thinking about this for nearly forty-eight hours. “A month will go by quick.”
“It's only been three days.”
“Yes, but I love to plan for the future.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
“And what caused this change of heart?”
Alex wrinkles his nose. “My desire to win the dare is outweighing everything else.”
“I see. In that case, please proceed.”
“You don’t have to make it sound like a business transaction.”
Henry narrows his eyes. “Don’t I?”
Alex ignores him, shuffling even closer. Henry's hand slips around Alex's hip, his knees pressing in on either side of Alex's legs. Alex's breath hitches in anticipation, but he leans down, framing Henry's neck with his palms as he molds their mouths together.
It starts slow and lazy, with Alex sucking gently on Henry's bottom lip. Henry tilts his head back, pliant as he opens up beneath Alex's attention. Alex sweeps his tongue into Henry’s mouth in a languid stroke, smiling into the kiss when it makes Henry whine. He does it again, scraping his nails against Henry’s scalp, hoping he’ll be rewarded with another eager reaction.
He gets what he wants when Henry sinks his teeth into Alex's lip in response, letting them graze across that sensitive flesh. Alex groans at the sting, the sound reverberating around them, and the air in the room changes. Suddenly, their kisses are frantic and messy, desperate and hot. It's a blur of searching tongues and sharp teeth, hands clutching at hair and shoulders and anything else they can reach.
It's better than any time before, both of them not shy or reserved as they eat each other alive. Alex isn't sure why they haven't been doing this before, since the moment they realized that they were both attracted to men, that it wasn't only Henry letting his eyes wander in the high school locker room. If Alex could go back and talk to himself as an eighteen year old, he'd smack that scrawny teenager and tell him that making out with Henry is life-altering, something worth fucking doing as soon as possible.
Henry makes a sound from deep in his throat, a low hum of approval as he digs his fingertips into Alex's back. He's almost touching the curve of Alex's ass, and Alex keeps kissing him while wishing that he would. He thinks of Henry's hands sliding over the muscle, of those fingertips pressing between Alex's cheeks. The image shifts to imagining Henry's mouth gliding in the same place, of his tongue exploring more of Alex's body the same way that it's licking into Alex's mouth.
Alex ruts forward, seeking pressure where he's starting to ache. Henry moans, broken and guttural, and Alex swallows the sound, tastes it on the tip of his tongue when it catches on Henry's teeth. Their lips seal together again, a prolonged press that robs the breath from Alex's lungs, before they pull away.
Henry's eyes flutter open, bright blues half-hidden by heavy eyelids. Alex can't help it—he pecks Henry's kiss-reddened and slick mouth once, twice, three more times.
“Fuck,” Henry whispers, low and rough. “Should we have timed that?”
Alex glances at the clock on the stove. “Two minutes. Ish.”
“So twenty, plus three.”
Smiling, Alex kisses him again.
“Plus four,” Henry corrects, a laugh in his tone.
“We're at fifty-five,” Alex tells him. “But we can keep making out, too. I'm not busy.”
Henry's gaze drops, his lips pressing together. “Me either, but I may—”
“May what?”
“I—” Henry meets Alex's eyes before glancing down at his lips and back up. He sways forward as if drawn in, his nose brushing Alex's. “Is this alright? We’re… we’re friends.”
Alex can sense the worry in Henry’s tone, the uncharted waters in front of them dark and obscure. They’re both flushed and out of breath, their bodies naturally reacting to the intensity of their kissing. It means more to Alex, but Henry getting worked up too doesn’t necessarily mean that the feeling is reciprocated.
Especially now that Henry is looking at him with trepidation shining in his eyes.
We’re friends.
Right. Friends.
And no matter what, Alex doesn’t want to jeopardize that.
He smooths a hand over Henry’s hair. “Hey, we are best friends, okay? Kisses are kisses, and it won’t change that. It’s just fun, right? And if we ever want it to stop, even if we’re not finished with the dare, we can.”
Henry purses his lips, expression shifting through so many emotions in the blink of an eye, but he nods. “Yes, of course. Of course you’re right.”
“I’m so glad you finally realized that.”
Rolling his eyes, Henry drags Alex’s mouth back down to his. They kiss for nearly three more minutes, until Alex's lips are swollen and numb, until Alex is hard in his jeans, until Alex isn't sure where he ends and where Henry begins.
After, they don’t talk about it. Henry excuses himself to his room with a smile, and Alex is still overwhelmed when he closes his own door. There’s a message waiting in their group chat, asking for an update, to which Henry replies: We’ve taken advantage of the snogging rule and are up to 82.5.
It prompts a deluge of responding texts, ranging from laughing emojis to praise to advice for upping their numbers.
Because this is a game, but it’s not. Not to him.
This sets a precedent, though—making out is on the table moving forward. Alex doesn't mind, but part of him wonders if that'll make it go by too fast. If they get to the end of this and that’s it, Alex wants to do what he can to make it last.
He pushes it out of his mind as he takes a shower, pressing his forehead into the tiles as he wraps a hand around himself, his muscles coiled tight.
He thinks of Henry when he falls apart.
As he catches his breath, he wonders if Henry is on the other side of the wall in his own bathroom, doing the same thing.
💋😘💋😘💋😘💋😘
Their 100th kiss is on a Monday morning, a quick peck as Alex grabs a Pop-Tart before running out the door, already late for class. Henry lifts his chin when Alex leans in, accepting the kiss with a smile.
Kiss number 126 is initiated by Henry the next night, the taste of ice cream lingering on his lips. It’s two in the morning and neither of them can sleep, so the empty tub of ice cream sits on their coffee table as Henry leans in, his tongue dipping into Alex’s mouth like he’s trying to steal some of the sweet flavor.
They get to add nearly four dozen kisses the next afternoon, when Henry pushes Alex back on their couch and kisses him into the cushions, straddling one of Alex's thighs. Alex earned the rough shove—he goaded Henry into it by teasing him for the peck he left on Alex’s cheek. He kisses his way down Alex’s jaw and leaves a dark, crimson mark on Alex’s throat, and Alex is pinned beneath his weight but he really doesn’t fucking mind.
For a second, Alex wonders if this could be their catalyst. There’s so much sexual tension weighing down on them, hot breath and boiling blood and grinding hips. He lets his hand find the top curve of Henry’s ass, experimentally dragging his fingertips over that swell. It makes Henry groan, and Alex is rewarded with sharp teeth digging into the column of his throat.
Words are already poised on Alex’s tongue, questions of how far Henry wants to take this. He knows, though, that he’ll agree to whatever Henry says.
But when Henry pulls away, he grins and suggests, “We should get a verdict from everyone on what leaving marks is worth.”
They check their time—making out puts them at 171. When Henry sends a photo of the hickey on Alex’s neck to the group as evidence, it earns them an extra five to put them at 176.
In the end, they don’t talk about that, either. They’re closer to winning the dare, and maybe for Henry, that’s all there is to it.
Alex is scared to ask.
Kisses 177 and 178 taste like a blueberry muffin, warm and semi-sweet and probably good for Alex’s health. Or something.
On Saturday night, they make a cake for Nora’s birthday and wind up smearing the frosting and batter on each other’s faces. When Henry licks it off of Alex’s cheeks, they count that as three kisses—half a kiss for each time Henry’s tongue glides across Alex’s face. Alex chases the taste of vanilla on Henry’s lips, getting them all the way to 190 kisses. He gets kiss number 191 while they’re cleaning up, and Henry is just as sweet then.
The next night, Henry gets a call from his brother and tries to lock himself in his room. Alex convinces him to open the door and slots himself to Henry's back as they fall asleep, his lips touching the nape of Henry's neck.
They don't count that as their 200th kiss.
Their 200th kiss instead is the next morning, when Henry tastes like toothpaste and Earl Grey. Alex listens while Henry complains about the sound of his brother's voice and missing his sister, kissing him again when Henry leaves for work, twice. He tells him to have a good day, holds back the I love you that wants to spill from his mouth, and accepts one more kiss that Henry initiates, as if he needed another physical reminder of Alex to take with him.
It becomes almost second nature after that—a few kisses before they go to bed, a peck on the way out the door, kisses over cooking dinner, making out every couple of days. Alex gets addicted to stealing kisses however he can, adding them up in his head and keeping each one close to his heart.
Nora teases him, saying Henry is going to replace caffeine as Alex’s drug of choice. Alex denies it, lobbing a strawberry at her head when she laughs.
Because it almost feels true, which is scary.
Alex knows this might wind up shattering him when it’s over, but he wants it too much to do anything other than take what he’s been given.
Two hundred kisses turns into three hundred and then four in a flash, and then one afternoon somewhere after that, they make out for so long that Alex feels dizzy and dazed when Henry pulls away. He forgets to look at a clock until it's too late, and Henry is curled on the other side of the couch with his swollen bottom lip caught between his teeth while he reads a book. His brow is furrowed like he’s invested in the story, eyes flitting over the page with intense fervor.
So Alex doesn't ask how long it was. That's when he loses count.
He knows vaguely where they are. If asked, he could probably estimate and be within a reasonable range of error. But Henry stops mentioning it and always accepts Alex's kisses, so Alex stops keeping track. In some ways, it’s easier not to know, but there’s a nagging sensation at the back of his mind, the not knowing plaguing him as the days go by.
Their day-to-day life feels similar enough to before, with the exception being that Alex's mouth knows the distinct slope of Henry's top lip, and his tongue knows the exact taste of Henry when he's had his favorite breakfast, and his hand knows the precise curve of Henry’s waist where it fits like a perfectly crafted puzzle piece.
It feels good, and no one is complaining, and if Alex never broaches the subject, he figures maybe Henry will stumble with him into this being a real relationship. They're already more than halfway there, what with living together and kissing and liking each other’s company. Alex even asks Henry to go out for dinner one night halfway through their thirty-one days, and it's basically a date—champagne and smiling at each other across a table. At the end of the evening, Alex kisses the bubbles from Henry's lips as they giggle, arms wrapped tight around each other's bodies, and it feels like how they were meant to be.
They're both tipsy when they strip to their underwear and curl up in the same bed, trading lazy kisses until they can't keep their eyes open. Just as he starts to slip into unconsciousness, Alex feels Henry's lips press to his head.
Alex doesn't know what number they're on. All he knows is that in his heart, that one counts. They haven’t talked about the number in a while, and Alex wonders if maybe Henry has lost track, too.
And if they both don’t know what the tally is, maybe they never have to stop.
Nora asks him how it’s going nearly three weeks in, and Alex smiles and tells her that it’s great. He refuses to thank her for the part she played and goes home to kiss Henry over two glasses of white wine and the worst excuse for Ramen that he’s ever seen.
It’s a bit of a messy beginning. They should probably talk about it.
But Alex is happy, and Henry seems like he is, too.
So Alex doesn’t bring it up.
💋😘💋😘💋😘💋😘
“H, you home?”
“Yes, in the kitchen.”
Alex tosses his keys into the bowl by their door and drops his bag somewhere in the entryway, rounding the corner to see Henry staring into their pantry. His brows are knitted together on his forehead, lips pursed in deep thought, when Alex drops a kiss on his cheek.
“Are you looking for the secrets to the universe in there?” Alex asks, peering inside like he might find something, too.
The corner of Henry’s mouth quirks upward. “Just wondering what to eat this evening.”
Alex hums, pecking Henry’s jaw again before moving to the fridge to grab a beer. “We could do delivery.”
“We’ve done delivery thrice in the last week and a half.”
“Okay, so we make it quadrice.”
Henry shoots him a look, something tender but vexed. “I know when you’re mocking me, and that isn’t a word.”
Alex lifts an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his drink. “Four-rice?”
“No.”
“Delivery won’t fucking kill us.”
“It very well might.”
Alex puts his beer on the counter and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist. “Nope. Cause I’m not letting us die. Or if we do, we go together so we can haunt everyone who knows us.”
“Everyone is quite the feat.”
“I am what I am.”
“An overachiever with undiagnosed ADHD and a smart mouth?”
“Exactly.”
Henry laughs, his fingers coming up to cup Alex’s elbows. “Yes, well. Tomorrow we’re cooking.”
Alex kisses him, quick and sweet. “Tomorrow I’m cooking, you mean.”
Henry presses his lips together, his tongue sliding between them. There’s something Alex doesn’t recognize in his expression, a slight furrow in his brow and a pinch at the corner of his mouth. Alex lifts his hand to press his thumb into that wrinkle, smoothing it out.
Henry blinks, and the expression vanishes. Alex smiles at him, trying to find any traces of that strange look in Henry’s eyes, but all he finds is the boy he loves grinning back at him. For a moment, Alex wonders if he imagined it.
“I can help,” Henry tries, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. “I’m not completely incompetent.”
“‘Of course you aren’t,” Alex allows, grabbing his phone to open up his food delivery app. “So what sounds good?”
“Pizza?”
Alex nods, clicking a few buttons with his phone. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please.”
“You got it, babe.”
After clicking Place Order, Alex tucks his phone back into his pocket and stretches up on his toes to kiss Henry again. Henry’s eyes widen right before Alex makes contact, and it almost makes Alex pull back. It’s a second too late, though, and Henry still kisses him the way that he always does, so Alex lets himself melt into the touch.
Henry smiles against his mouth, one of his hands gliding over the length of Alex’s spine before settling in his hair. When Alex starts to move away, Henry holds him there for another second, pushing harder against Alex’s mouth before finally letting him go.
Alex looks up at him, finding that same peculiar expression gazing back at him. Henry looks almost sad, which doesn’t make any fucking sense.
“You good?” Alex asks, still holding Henry’s face in his hands.
Henry nods, his face adjusting to something neutral. “Of course.”
They stare for a moment without speaking, and Henry’s eyes flick down to Alex’s lips. It draws Alex back into Henry’s orbit, that gravitational pull that is always tugging on the fibers of his chest luring him closer. His fingers slide over Henry’s jaw as he leans back up, fully intending to kiss Henry again and not stop until their food shows up. Maybe if they’re kissing, Henry won’t be as melancholic, lost in whatever thoughts seem to be plaguing him.
He seems to perk up when they’re kissing, most of the time. So it could work—Alex figures it’s worth a try.
But Henry flinches, his face twisting up like he’s in pain, and Alex freezes before their lips can connect.
“What are you doing?” Henry asks, that haunted look returning to his features.
Alex flounders, his fingertips still pressed into Henry’s skin. “I—kissing you?”
Henry’s throat bobs. “Why?”
Something hard and cumbersome lodges itself beneath Alex’s sternum. “What do you mean?”
“Alex, that was…” Henry’s attention shifts from Alex’s face, down to the floor. “That was a thousand, just now. We’ve kissed a thousand times.”
Alex frowns, trying to remember the last time he thought of a stupid fucking number as it relates to Henry’s mouth and coming up empty. “I didn’t… I lost count.”
Henry nods, his hands moving to Alex’s waist only to push him backward and away. “Well, yes. I kept track, and… That last one was… the last. So, we can let everyone know that we’re finished. Game over, and all.”
Hurt blooms in Alex’s chest, poison ivy wrapping around his heart and lungs so tight that he can’t breathe. His throat constricts around a sound, half a sob that he forces down as he takes another step back.
He just thought—
But all this time, Henry was fine. He seemed more than happy to—
The air that Alex tries to pull in gets trapped somewhere between his mouth and his lungs, and he shakes his head. He knows that being honest right now might be the worst thing for him, giving Henry a lethal weapon that can be used against him.
Only, everything already hurts.
He may as well let Henry have the fatal blow. It would be poetic, probably, for Henry to be the last thing that Alex feels before his heart ceases functioning.
So he whimpers the simple truth. “It wasn’t a game, Henry.”
Henry’s laugh is dry. “Wasn’t it? It was a dare from our mischievous friends, Alex. Who were drunk and persistent.”
That doesn’t feel quite right.
Alex stammers out, “Well, yeah, but not—”
“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear that we completed their challenge a few days early, and then we can all move forward.”
Alex hadn’t been keeping track of days, either, but now, even as his brain swirls, he remembers having to put the date into an assignment earlier today—October 17th.
“Right, but… Henry, I—”
Henry moves past Alex, pulling plates and napkins out of their cabinet and taking them into the living room. Alex follows him with his head still reeling, caught on trying to remember the kiss they just had. He didn’t know that their last kiss was their last. He thought they would have a thousand more, and now he can’t remember what that one felt like.
He doesn’t want to forget—he can’t.
He just really thought that Henry—
“Anyway,” Henry says, placing their kitchenware on the coffee table and settling on his usual couch cushion. “Now that we’re all finished with that, perhaps they’ll be a bit less wicked moving forward, eh?”
“Why are you being so—” Alex’s voice cracks, and he cuts himself off to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Was it that much of a chore to fucking kiss me? I thought you… liked it.”
Henry’s head whips toward Alex, a deep wrinkle appearing on his forehead. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he searches Alex’s expression. There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks, that fucking pinch back at the corner of his mouth, confusion marring his features as he looks away.
“No, Alex. It was not a chore, not for me,” Henry says, enunciating each syllable as it slowly leaves his mouth. His shoulders slump forward as he continues. “I just assumed that you would be glad to… be done.”
Now, Alex lets his eyes trail over Henry’s face. He’s known Henry since they were kids, has seen him sad and heartbroken, happy and excited, lost in the confines of his mind, and enamored with the boys he brought home. The thought of them now makes Alex feel nauseous, but the point stays the same—he knows Henry.
He knows Henry better than he knows anyone.
So as he scrutinizes the weird twist of Henry’s features and the way he’s wringing his hands together in his lap and the restless vibrating of his knee, a theory forms in his mind. Anxiety is often easy for Alex to recognize in others because he’s gotten used to seeing it in himself, the way it makes someone’s body look and feel like a livewire, buzzing too fast and bound to cast a wild spark.
For a moment, Alex lets himself imagine how he would feel if the roles had been reversed. The hurt that would have plagued his chest if someone he loved was only kissing him to win a dare.
Henry isn’t brushing Alex off. Alex is almost certain of that. He won’t meet Alex’s eyes now, and as the moment in time seems to stretch and wrap itself around the cavern of space between them, the pieces click.
Or at least, Alex hopes they do.
Please, he prays, pressing his palm over his solar plexus. Don’t let me be wrong.
“Baby,” Alex whispers, walking over to stand in front of Henry. “Hey. Look at me.”
Henry tucks his chin further into his chest.
Alex hesitates only a moment before shifting forward, his knees finding the cushion on either side of Henry’s thighs. Most of his weight is far enough away that it doesn’t feel sexual as he settles into Henry’s lap. He just needs to be close, needs to let Henry see the love in Alex’s eyes, the way it’s exuding from every cell in his body. He uses a gentle finger to coax Henry’s chin up so that their eyes can meet. Henry’s lips move, maybe in the shape of Alex’s name, his eyes wide and wet and so, so blue.
Nothing and no one has ever been this beautiful, Alex thinks.
Alex cradles Henry’s face in his hands, a deep reverence beating in his chest, and leans down to bring their mouths together. He’s careful as he presses, holding Henry with a gentle touch. Even though he’s in Henry’s lap, Henry could pull away if he didn’t want this. Alex would let him go, too, and probably scramble off of his thighs so fast that he gets a concussion by knocking his head on their coffee table.
But Henry doesn’t yank himself away. He doesn’t berate Alex for having the nerve to kiss him like this, slow and soft and sweet. Henry makes a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat as he meets Alex’s kiss. It’s tentative but firm, Henry’s hands landing on Alex’s hips with the faintest touch.
They’re not in any hurry. So many of their kisses before have been heated and greedy, a mess of lips and hands that left them breathless.
This is not that. Alex won’t let it be.
As much as Alex loves the frenetic clash of teeth and tongues driving deep, this may be his favorite kiss he’s had with Henry. It’s a kiss meant to soothe, to communicate the desire in Alex’s bones that goes so far beyond what they can physically feel. Henry is his, the other half of his soul, and as much as Alex wants to do an entire list of filthy things to him, he also wants this, them, that ethereal connection that brought them together when they were supposed to be.
Alex believes it. He hopes that Henry does, too.
Alex uses his lips to pry Henry’s open, his tongue catching the corner of Henry’s mouth when he licks into it. Henry’s face is scrunched, but he lets Alex tilt his head back even further while they kiss. A shiver traverses the length of Alex’s spine as Henry’s lips move under his, that soft pressure more intimate than anything he’s ever experienced before.
When Alex pulls away, he stays close as his eyes open. Henry’s face is still crumpled, his eyes still shut. Together, they take a trembling breath.
“Alex.” Henry sounds absolutely wrecked. “What are you doing?”
Alex swallows, carding his fingertips through Henry’s hair. “Kissing you.”
“Right,” Henry rasps, his hand flexing on Alex's hip. “Why?”
Alex touches his thumb to the center of Henry’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Because I really fucking want to, baby. I have always wanted to.”
Henry makes a longing sound, his eyes finally opening. “Always?”
It seems almost silly to Alex, that Henry doesn’t know. With all the time they’ve spent kissing the last few weeks, all the sweet nothings that Alex has murmured against Henry’s mouth, all of the smiles that he can’t keep from spreading across his face at the mere sight of Henry.
“Always,” Alex confirms, touching another kiss to Henry’s lips. “Nora’s dare was her meddling on my behalf. Well-intentioned, but—”
“Oh, my God,” Henry breaks into a fit of laughter, and his arms wrap around Alex’s waist as he buries his face into Alex’s collarbone. The tense air seems to dissipate at the sound, the heavy weight shattering as Henry says, “That makes so much more bloody sense.”
“I didn’t know what she was going to do, and I didn’t think it would be… this. But she found out that I love you and—”
“—took matters into her own hands.”
“Yep.”
“You—” Henry clears his throat, his thumb sweeping across Alex’s ribs. “You said she found out that you… You just said that…”
Alex decides to save him. “I love you, yeah. Like, a stupid amount. I realized it a couple of weeks before that game of Truth or Dare, and she held me down to force the information out of me using illegal war tactics.”
“That sounds a bit extreme.”
“She did, I swear.”
Henry’s giggle is the most lovely sound Alex has ever heard. “Right. No, I absolutely believe you.”
Alex grins. “Hey, Henry?”
Henry lifts his head, meeting Alex’s eyes. “Hm?”
“I want to keep kissing you, like, indefinitely.”
“Oh,” Henry breathes, his face lighting up. “Well, I—uh. I should say that I… Well, I love you, too, for quite some time now, actually. So, I would also like to continue kissing you.”
“I’m sorry for how I went about it, though,” Alex tells him, glancing down. “It just sort of… threw me off guard, and I am actually terrified to go against anything that Nora does, ever. I’m pretty sure she could kill me and get away with it.”
“She could,” Henry agrees, touching his thumb to the dimple in Alex’s chin. “And it’s alright, I understand being… cautious and powerless against Nora's plans. But we’re here now, and you have explicit permission to kiss me whenever you would like.”
“You might regret that,” Alex grumbles against Henry’s mouth, dropping a quick kiss there. “Because I want to kiss you constantly. I paced myself this month because I didn’t want it to be over too soon.”
“I thought you lost count.”
“I did,” Alex says, nudging their noses together. “That made it even worse. You have like, the softest fucking lips and I just wanted to—”
Alex kisses him to prove his point, putting his entire body into it. They melt against each other, Henry holding Alex close and smiling into Alex’s mouth. When his lungs start to burn, Alex wishes that he didn’t need to breathe, because it requires pulling his lips away from Henry’s, which is a major fucking inconvenience.
“I just wanted to kiss you forever,” Alex finishes, smiling. “I still do.”
“I love you,” Henry promises, the words thick with sincerity. “You can kiss me as much as you’d like.”
“I would also like to do other things,” Alex adds, pointedly grinding his hips forward and down. “So many other things.”
Henry’s pupils widen, his mouth dropping open as Alex shifts again. “Well, I suppose we should probably get started then.”
“I wanna kiss you in so many other places, too,” Alex says, kissing Henry’s cupid’s bow, his chin, down the length of his jaw. He sucks the skin of Henry’s throat between his teeth, feeling the rumble of Henry’s chest in response. “But there’s one place in particular that’s been keeping me up at night.”
“Is that so?”
Alex slips from Henry’s lap and to the floor, pushing Henry’s knees apart so that he can settle between them. Henry watches him with eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed the prettiest pink.
“Yeah.” Alex drops his eyes to Henry’s groin, licking his lips with intent. “If you’re cool with it.”
“Christ, Alex.”
Alex slides a palm up Henry’s thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing Henry’s zipper and the hard line of him beneath the denim, as he looks up at Henry through his eyelashes.
“Can I kiss you here, baby?”
Henry curses, reaching down to get a fistful of Alex’s curls. His tug is pointed but not painful, the perfect pressure to drive Alex wild. “Please.”
Later, boneless and sweaty and curled together on the couch, Alex presses a kiss to the skin over Henry’s heart. He can feel the steady beat beneath his lips, the thrum of energy beneath flesh and muscle and bone. Two untouched pizza boxes rest on the coffee table, procured without scarring the delivery driver but quickly forgotten once the door had closed again.
“I love you,” Alex says, easy and true.
Henry breathes his “I love you,” into Alex’s hair, leaving a kiss on the damp curls.
“We still have to tell everyone,” Alex points out, his hand trailing over Henry’s bare stomach and smiling when goosebumps rise in its wake.
“Maybe later,” Henry replies, hooking a leg around Alex’s waist and hitching his hips upward. “We still have nearly four days before they start asking more questions.”
“And I still have so many more places to kiss you.”
“Right, I have so much more skin. Fingers and toes and—”
Henry’s sentence cuts off on a gasp when Alex’s hand moves, curling under his body and around his ass so that Alex’s fingers can find their destination.
“I was thinking here, somewhere,” Alex tells him, his thumb pressing against that sensitive area until Henry hisses through his teeth. “Maybe. Just an idea I had. Feels like it would count for a lot of kisses.”
Henry laughs, breathless and delighted, before meeting Alex’s eyes with a devilish smirk.
“I dare you to.”
Alex grins, moving lower and pushing Henry’s knees to his chest as his mouth starts to explore.
After all, he’s really not one to turn down a dare.
💋😘💋😘💋😘💋😘
Nora’s Minions
irl chaos demon
dare update pls
my people demand it
Alex
not until you change the group chat name back
irl chaos demon
you know you don’t have leverage right
Henry ❤️
She’s right—you don’t.
Alex
whose side are you on
tf
Henry ❤️
The dare was completed as requested.
Pez
why was I not informed upon completion???
Alex
because we haven’t gotten out of bed yet
or put on clothes in two days
Pez
HENRY?!!? Is it true???
Henry ❤️
I can confirm.
Bug
oh my god
Nora you son of a bitch
you actually did it
Alex
i’d like to take SOME credit
Henry ❤️
Thank you for the nudge, Nora.
Alex
BABY I LOVE YOU
BUT COME ON
irl chaos demon
You’re welcome, losers.