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Alex and Henry always existed in the same orbit without ever colliding.
They move through the same campus spaces, the same buildings, and the same crowded classrooms and library hallways. They share an awareness of each other that’s never quite become anything solid. Not in the two years they’ve known each other. Or well—of each other.
It’s been glances held a fraction of a moment too long. Glimmers of recognition that somehow never turned into a full conversation.
You could say they are not in the same circle of friends, but there’s a thin segment of a Venn diagram where their cliques overlap. However, that doesn’t mean that they have never sought each other out across the campus, inside a cramped party or on the dance floor.
There’s always that moment when it feels like time stops for just a split second. That moment when they pass each other in the hallways and their eyes meet, holding onto the connection a moment longer. There’s the way they nod at each other in line at the bar and the way they look each other up and down on the field whenever their training sessions overlap.
But it feels like there has always been just a quiet, persistent tension that lives in the background of their lives without ever being named.
They’ve passed each other often in the hallways, brushed shoulders in the gym, or even seen each other’s games. They are always surrounded by teammates and friends and noise and movement, always buffered by other people. Always separated by just enough distance to make the attraction feel unreal or imagined.
To make it easy to ignore. To make the way Alex and Henry look at each other something that can be dismissed as simple curiosity.
Instead of what it actually is.
Instead of the raw, electrifying lust they feel for each other.
They’re both captains of their teams, Alex for lacrosse and Henry for rugby, so their schedules rarely align.
Whenever one team has a practice or a game, the locker room needs to be emptied quickly afterward. Another team is always on the way. No one has time or space to linger.
But on the weekends, when the school is technically closed, people do come over and train, use the gym on site or run through drills with a handful of teammates.
Today, however, there’s no one else around.
Henry was the only one from his team who came in today. It’s cold and rainy, with a proper storm about to set in, but he was too restless to stay in his dorm. So, instead of relaxing through what will probably be a very boring Saturday, he decided to go to the campus gym and try to work out through the buzzing feeling in his chest.
He pushes into the locker room, knowing full well that it should be quiet. It won’t be filled with noise and voices, the usual chaos of teammates moving in every direction, shoving into each other as they try to get fastest to the shower stalls and clean up the mud from the field.
But as he steps into the locker room, the echoing sound of running water fills his ears. Someone is already here, using the showers.
Steam hangs low in the air, softening the edges of the room, turning the rows of lockers into blurred shapes and shadows. It’s not a big room, just four shower stalls, set two opposite the other. For a second, Henry hesitates. Then he steps inside and just stands in the doorway longer than necessary before moving toward the bench and starting to take his gear off. He ties a towel around his waist and steps towards the showers.
In the first shower stall on the left, Henry sees none other than Alex Claremont-Diaz throwing his head back, fingers combing through his dark hair, curls now slick from the water that’s coursing down his body.
His skin glistens under the fluorescent lights and his body looks like it was carved from marble rather than built through exercise.
Every move seems to be in slow motion—the way Alex moves his hands makes his shoulder muscles twist and turn with an undeniable strength. His shoulders are broad without seeming heavy, smooth without looking soft. The muscles of his back don’t strain or bulge but rather rest in a natural, effortless tension.
Under the spray of the water, with shampoo suds gently dripping down his skin, Alex’s back looks wondrous.
There’s a rhythm to it, a balance that feels almost unreal. His back moves like something living and intentional, each fiber rippling into the next in clean lines that shift when he breathes, when he moves, when he turns.
Before his eyes roam even lower—before he risks Alex turning around and catching Henry gawking at him—Henry decides to shower as fast as he can and get out of there.
Mouth suddenly dry, Henry slips into the opposite stall, telling himself he’ll have a quick rinse and be out before Alex is done. Or better yet, maybe Alex is about to finish and he will be the one to leave, so Henry can linger under the hot spray until the locker room is all his.
Henry can feel the tiredness of his body and the soreness of his muscles, but the stillness of the air inside the room is what throws him off more than it should.
He’s never been so close to Alex before. Not all alone. Certainly not while they are both naked.
Henry turns the water on and steps under the spray, letting the heat roll over his shoulders and down his back, trying to let his thoughts slow down, trying to let the tension of his muscles flow out of his body. He keeps his back to the rest of the room. For a few moments he can hear nothing but the sound of water and the beating of his own heart. He closes his eyes, tilts his head forward, and focuses on the feeling of water trickling down his body, on the simple tasks of washing away sweat and exhaustion.
But all of a sudden there’s a new tension in his back, a new cinch in his shoulders. It must be all in his head. But he could swear it feels like there’s someone watching him. He can feel a pair of eyes on him—the heat of the water is now not the only thing that’s burning his skin.
It can’t be. It couldn’t be.
Alex wouldn’t be watching him the way Henry watched Alex.
But he’s the only one here.
What if he is looking?
What if all the stolen glances and the not-quite conversations could lend themselves to something bigger? What if Alex too looks at Henry the way Henry looks at him?
There's no other sound except for the water running. Alex was humming a song when Henry stepped in, but there’s nothing now. Henry doesn’t even know when the humming stopped.
Henry needs to know, he needs to look. He can feel his back burning and he’s holding his breath and this might be all in his head but maybe it isn’t. Maybe, if he turns around slowly enough, he can get another glimpse of Alex’s figure before he leaves.
So as he casually turns around under the spray, hands drawn through his wet hair, trying to move it out of his eyes, Henry comes face-to-face with an Adonis looking back at him.
Alex is standing in his own stall, water dripping from his hair, skin flushed from the shower, and his brown eyes are lifted, locked on Henry's form. He’s just standing there, barely blinking, mouth half open, chest glistening with little shiny droplets and—as Henry’s gaze falls lower and lower—Alex’s cock is, without a shadow of a doubt, hard and pointing towards him.
The moment stretches instantly, thick and heavy, like the room has narrowed down to just the space between them.
Neither one of them moves.
Neither one of them looks away.
There’s something different in Alex’s expression, something more reserved than his usual confidence—halfway uncertain, halfway aware—and Henry feels his chest tighten in on itself as the weight of the moment settles in.
This isn’t a glance across a crowded dance floor, it isn’t a passing look in a hallway, or one of those half-moments in the cafeteria that disappear as quickly as they appear.
This is stillness. This is silence. This is a space with no one else in it, just the two of them.
The two of them naked and wet and exposed, looking at each other, eyes roaming up and down, from head to toe, without saying a word.
Has it been an hour or minutes or just a few seconds? Henry doesn’t even know.
His arms are slowly falling down his body after he pushes his hair back.
Fingers slowly fall down his own neck and chest and then push down towards his hips. He stops there first but then—emboldened by the fact that Alex is still looking at him, charged gaze still on him—Henry lets his hands roam free on his body. His left hand rises back over his stomach and his chest, fingers gently squeezing his tired shoulder muscles as he lets his head fall back under the water.
His lips open with a low moan and then he blinks away the droplets of water. Henry lets his right hand move in front of his body, now mirroring Alex.
And Alex…well, Alex is slowly but surely touching himself.
Long, lithe fingers wrap around his hardened cock with a gentle squeeze as he lets his own head fall backwards under the spray. He doesn’t stay long like that but brings his gaze forward once again, his eye now dropping down between Henry’s legs.
They’re not doing much, just holding themselves in a tight grip, a slow tug and pull, but both their movements are so tame and guarded. Like making a sudden move would spook one of them, like the understanding between them must be kept strong and unbroken.
The silent agreement, the consensual pact of knowing they are both hard for the other.
But then Henry runs his left hand down his chest, letting his fingers graze past a nipple. Circling it with his thumb, he lets the other hand tug gently at his foreskin, pulling it back, pushing it forward. He’s so hard now, with the weight of Alex’s dark gaze pressing down on him. He can’t hear the sound over the roar of the shower, but he sees Alex’s mouth move as he inhales sharply in the stall across from him.
But before anything else can happen, a loud bang cuts through the silence and makes both of them startle. It’s just an open window smacked back by the storm brewing outside, but it’s enough to make both of them falter.
Henry’s gaze drops first, his jaw tightening as he turns his face away, focusing on the tile, the water, anything that isn’t Alex. A heartbeat later, with the corner of his eye, he can see Alex shift too, turning his body slightly, breaking the line of sight, pretending there’s nothing unusual about the moment, nothing charged about the silence between them, nothing heavy lingering in the air.
They stand in separate stalls, backs turned now, water still running, steam still rising, both pretending that nothing happened while feeling the weight of everything that just did—the recognition that whatever was brewing between them in shared looks and words unsaid is real. The unspoken understanding that for the first time, they didn’t just pass each other in a crowded space but stayed there in the moment, looking, yearning, wanting more.
They saw each other.
They saw each other.
Neither of them seems to be sure what to do with that.
But the tension doesn’t disappear.
It sticks around and clings to them both. It’s there, as Henry can hear Alex turning off his water. It’s there as Alex walks out of the stall and back to the locker room. It’s there as Henry lets his head fall to the cold tile wall, forehead pressed against that cool spot that Henry hopes will ground him, will pull him back down from the cliff he was about to jump off of.
Henry takes a deep breath and then another and then one more, calming his body down, cock included. He couldn’t do anything about it here anyway. He’ll just have to wait until he’s back in his dorm, pray his roommate is still away and then come to terms with the fact that Alex Claremont-Diaz was put on this world to torment him.
***
The locker room always smells like mud and sweat, or a mix of everything that boys pushing and pulling each other on the field for an hour smell like. It’s not clean—it’s sharp and overwhelming all at once. But Alex loves it in a strange way. It means practice or the actual game is over.
It means exhaustion and relief—even if they come from both wins and losses.
Alex strips off his lacrosse gear without thinking, muscles humming from drills, shoulder aching pleasantly from impact. He coerced his teammate Liam to join him for a training on the weekend. He felt like the dorm room was too stuffy and he couldn’t focus on studying so getting his body to move was the next best thing. Liam had already left, but Alex is left sitting on the cold wooden bench, trying to think about what he’ll do next, where he could go after he showers and leaves the locker room behind.
He strips off the rest of his gear and shoves it in the bag he brought with him, ready to take it directly to the laundry and get it cleaned. He digs in his gym bag after his clean clothes, laying them all out on top of the bag for when he comes out of the shower. His vintage Walkman is then placed on top of the pile of clothes before Alex closes the door to his locker.
He’s all alone in the room, so his towel is draped over his shoulder rather than tied around his waist. Alex moves towards the shower area and steps into the first stall. The water starts running, steam curls up toward the ceiling, fogging the mirrors, and turning the room hazy and indistinct.
He steps into a stall and lets the water hit his skin. It’s hot and loud, but it’s steady.
Alex tilts his head back, eyes closing, letting the outside noise drown out the buzzing inside his head. He lets himself feel the way it washes over his sore muscles and gets him as relaxed as he’s been in the last few weeks.
He rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, completely unaware when the locker room door opens behind him. The air is thick with heat and steam and the scent of his shampoo and Alex is lost in his own world, not feeling the gentle breeze of cold air or hearing the soft pads of a stranger’s feet as they walk into the opposite stall.
But once he shakes off the haze and turns around under the spray, his eyes are met with the back of someone he never thought he’d see. Not here, not like this. Not naked and only a few feet away from him. Close enough to touch.
Henry Fox has come into the locker room and just stepped into the showers.
Henry Fox is alone here, with nobody else around them, no teammates or friends or classmates to separate them, to steal away his bright blue eyes, or to make him laugh before Alex can.
Rugby practice doesn't usually take place on the weekends, but maybe, just like him, Henry felt the need to leave his room and work out. Maybe he was in the gym, not out in the field. Alex now wishes he’d thought of that. He could have gone to the gym instead of begging Liam to join him for some drills. He could have found Henry there and maybe helped him with his set; they could have laughed and shot the shit and maybe exchanged numbers.
But he didn’t do that. Instead, Alex is now frozen in place, body turned fully towards Henry’s back, as he admires him from afar.
Alex’s gaze follows the gentle slope from the neck to the shoulder, the subtle curve along the spine, the way Henry’s muscles fan outward alongside two dimples, like the quiet suggestion of wings that were there in another life. Like they were never meant to be seen by someone now, but the proof of their existence still remains.
He thinks that Henry’s body is less shaped by effort and more like it was designed with a purpose, as if this is what an angel’s back would look like if it had to exist in human form—smooth and soft and perfect, powerful in a way that overwhelms you and beckons you to touch.
And God, does Alex want to touch.
Henry is standing under the water, facing the wall, head tilted forward. His hair is wet, so darker in color, and Alex can see that it’s slicked flat against his forehead, pushed down by the shower.
Water is tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, his back, and his hips. The steam blurs the edges of him, but not enough to soften the shape of his body or the definition of his muscles, or even the easy confidence in the way he stands there, taking over the space like it belongs to him.
Alex’s breath catches sharp and involuntary.
His eyes have landed lower down Henry’s back, another pair of dimples adorning his pale skin. It’s like they’re perfectly shaped for two thumbs to rest there. Alex looks down to his hands, palms stretched out in front of him and imagines placing his thumbs in the notch of those dimples. He imagines laying the rest of his fingers around Henry’s waist, pulling him back or bending him forward.
Alex can feel his cock twitch, filthy thoughts filling his head, glazing his eyes with desire.
He wants to step forward and walk across this seemingly endless distance and pull Henry against him. He wants to hear his voice crack under Alex’s touch, wants to hear Henry’s breath hitch as Alex plants a kiss on the side of his jaw, under his ear, and on the top of his spine as he then falls to his knees as he follows that path lower and lower.
Fuck, he would worship at that altar so passionately if only he were given the chance.
Alex thinks Henry likes him. He hopes Henry likes him. All the times their eyes met at events over campus, or the ways Henry blushed whenever Alex managed to talk to him, however quickly. There must be something there. It can’t be just in his mind. Not just in his wishes.
He should turn around now. He should turn off the water and walk away and not be a creep eyefucking Henry in the shower. He’s so hard now and his cock is aching and all he can do is let out a soft moan as he feels his cock twitching yet again.
And suddenly, Alex feels his soul leaving his body as Henry turns around.
He’s frozen in place, mouth still half open, as his hand presses at the base of his cock, trying to push the pressure down, to hold his desire in place. It’s like he doesn’t even register the fact that he is naked and turned on and his body is fully turned toward Henry.
Head drowning in a haze of steam and arousal, Alex manages to snap out of the fog only the moment Henry’s eyes land on his crotch. He’s followed Henry’s gaze, his hands and his stuttering breath, but now the entirety of Alex’s focus is on those bright blue eyes and the place on his body where they decide to land.
And that place is between his legs. Where his hand is currently squeezing the base of his dick as he is trying to calm it down and not shoot his load untouched, only because he saw Henry naked.
But now, Henry seems to be touching his body too.
One hand is gently skimming over his stomach and chest and then Henry’s fingers grip the muscles of his shoulders. Alex imagines his hand there instead. He wants to feel those tense muscles relax under his touch; he wants to knead out every knot Henry might have after his workout until he’s left a pile of goo for Alex to put back together with his palms.
Henry’s other arm then takes a different route. He mirrors Alex’s movement and goes straight for his cock, thumb and pointer now made into a tight circle around its base.
Alex can see that Henry is also hard. Not as much as Alex, but he can actively see the way Henry’s cock slowly fills under his gaze. And if he wanted to replace Henry’s hand and massage his shoulders before, well…now Alex would like to replace the second hand too.
He’d replace it with his own or, better yet, with his lips. He’d let Henry slip inside the heat of his mouth and hum around him, delighted in the feel and the taste. Alex would let Henry grip his curls and pull them tight; he'd even let him fuck his mouth.
Whatever Henry wants.
Alex’s mouth has fallen soft and open, eyes glued to the hand currently wrapped around Henry’s shaft. He wants to beg, wants to say, ‘Please!’ even if he doesn’t know what for.
He’s got half a mind to say that out loud before he’s pulled out of his thoughts by a loud bang.
There’s a window left open back in the locker room and the wind outside is violently whooshing. There’s a hiss and a clap of thunder. The rain is starting to come down.
Alex turns his water ice cold in the hopes that his arousal will go away. He’s so worked up he can barely breathe. He needs to step out of the shower and put some distance between him and Henry—or else he’ll jump the man right then and there.
As he finally calms down, Alex turns off the water, grabs his towel, wraps it around his waist, and steps out towards the lockers. He’s walking slowly, debating what to do next and how to act.
Should he pull on his clothes and dart out of the building, not looking back? But what will he say the next time he meets Henry in a crowded hallway?
Should he push his fears down and wait for Henry? Confront him and maybe kiss him? Or at least just burst the bubble of tension between them—find out if what just happened was a fluke or if it could happen again. Maybe in the privacy of his dorm.
Maybe more than once. Maybe even something more.
Alex pulls the towel from around his waist and rubs it on his hair, squeezing the water out of his curls before he does another cursory sweep of his body. He pulls his locker door open, ready to get dressed as he decides to wait. Alex is slow in his movements, sluggishly putting on his white socks and then grabbing the pair of underwear he placed on top of his gym bag. He puts one foot in and then the other, pulling the boxers up over his legs, letting the material stretch tightly on the round of his ass.
It’s a crisp white pair, with a thick white band and a small green crocodile embroidered on the front, right above his crotch. His cock is filling the front of the underwear, but he’s soft now, just the memories of the ache he felt a few minutes ago lingering in his head. Alex adjusts himself as he lets his thumb run on the inside of the waistband, letting it snap into place.
He can still hear the shower running, meaning that Henry is there, either waiting for Alex to leave or finishing off what he started. Alex swallows around nothing, mouth dry at the thought.
He’ll definitely wait.
He pulls his jeans from the locker and throws them over the bench and then sets his t-shirt over his shoulder before pulling out the Walkman and shoving the door closed with his hip. He’s going to wait for Henry, no matter how long it takes for him to come out. And he needs his pump-up song, so Alex decides to put his Walkman on and hit play.
The notes of ‘Tell Me What You Want’ begin to play and Alex starts to hum slowly. His head bobs up and down to the rhythm of the music as the lyrics start.
“Can you meet me in the middle? // Love me just a little…”
He lets the music course through his body, relaxing his muscles as the blood pumps through his veins.
He can do this. He will do this. As soon as Henry steps out of the showers, Alex will ask him on a date. Alex can already see the scene unfolding in front of him—grabbing Henry’s hand and taking him to dinner, talking and laughing, and kissing him good night after he walks him back home to his dorm.
This thing between them, this tension that feels like a spring pushed all the way down and about to break free, needs to transform into something else or fizzle away for good. Because the way they have been dancing around each other, neither one of them making a move, is no longer feasible. Alex can no longer stand the jitters and the stress whenever Henry is near.
“Tell me what you want and we can get it started // Can you meet me in the middle? Love me just a little… I’m trying to solve the riddle of you.” the song says and Alex completely agrees with that statement.
In fact, he agrees so much that he’s closed his eyes and started dancing in the middle of the locker room, hips swaying left to right as the chorus builds in his headphones.
“Won’t you come and start and tell me what you want…” Alex sings aloud, caught in the music and forgetting he’s not actually alone in the room.
There’s a throat clearing behind him.
Henry’s out of the shower, droplets of water glimmering on his skin under the harsh light. His cheeks are flushed, his shoulders too, and now that Alex looks closely, the pink runs even down his chest, his abs and—
“You’re still here,” Henry says. It’s not a question.
“Um—” Alex adds to the conversation, mouth wide open as he runs his eyes up and down Henry’s body, like he doesn’t believe what he sees.
There’s a smirk on Henry’s face, a subtle one, but a smirk nonetheless. He steps around Alex, trying to get to his locker and their naked shoulders touch.
And Alex feels like a lightning bolt struck him down from head to toe.
He swings around on his heels so fast he almost gets whiplash and follows after Henry to the other side of the room.
“I was waiting,” Alex says, stopping a few feet from where Henry now stands, facing his locker, back turned to Alex.
“Waiting for what?” Henry asks, without turning.
“For you, Fox,” Alex replies and he can see Henry’s shoulders tense. “I wanted to—”
“We can ignore what happened in there. It was nothing,” Henry responds, still not turning around.
“It can be nothing,” Alex answers and he takes just one step closer, like he’s afraid of spooking Henry if he makes a sudden move. “Or it can be something, if—” He clears his throat, as if he’s making sure that the next words out of his mouth are as clear as possible. “—if you want that too.”
“If I—” Henry mutters, but there’s barely a sound coming out.
“I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do or make you feel pressured,” Alex continues. “We can totally forget it if that’s really what you want. I didn’t see anything, you didn’t see anything—” Alex proceeds to ramble behind Henry, hands flailing in the air as he starts to reconsider. “I don’t even know who you are. If that’s what you want.”
“What I want—” Henry says again in a soft voice, but a bit clearer this time. He turns around, his movements slow but steady, until he’s faced with Alex, now only two feet away.
“But if you want the same thing I do—” Alex says, closing the final steps between them. He lets his hand slowly cup Henry’s jaw and there’s an initial jolt in Henry’s body, but he doesn’t pull back, so Alex doesn’t pull back his hand either.
“The same thing you do?” Henry asks this time, seemingly unable to say something new, just repeating Alex’s words in one form or another.
“Yes,” Alex nods. “The same thing I do.”
Henry swallows and his emotions are visible on his face. Pink blooms hotter in his cheeks and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He bites his lower lip and Alex can’t stop thinking of how he wishes he could do that instead. He wants to pull it between his teeth until Henry groans, and then he wants to soothe it with his tongue. He can’t do either of those things, but he can let his thumb wander and gently caress Henry’s bottom lip.
“And what exactly is it that you want, Alexander?” Henry finally asks as he takes a deep inhale, as if he’s preparing to run. Or pounce.
Alex really hopes it’s the latter.
“You, sweetheart,” Alex says with a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.
Alex can hear Henry’s sharp inhale and can feel the way his knees wobble. Henry’s still there, still boxed in between Alex and his locker. He’s not running, and he’s still letting Alex cup his face.
“I want you,” Alex continues, bravery now settling in his voice. “I’ve been wanting you for so long. I want to see the way you smile, hear the way you laugh. My eyes can always find you around the campus, but I could never manage to get you alone. You’re funny and witty and fucking hot, Fox. You make my blood boil.”
“I—”
“We don’t have to do anything, Henry. Like I said, if you don’t want me the same way, I’ll step back and walk away. But something tells me that you do.”
Henry’s breath starts to hitch as Alex continues. “I see the way you look at me,” he says. “I see the way your eyes wander whenever we meet. How you look at me and smile. But then you always run away. Why do you never come and talk to me, Henry?”
“Why do you never come and talk to me?” Henry bites back.
“Hmm. Well, you were always with Percy, for starters. You were so glued at the hip, I thought you might be taken. But a taken guy wouldn’t look me up and down the way you do. Wouldn’t take me in, every inch of me, as you just did back there,” Alex says, nodding his head back towards the shower stalls.
“Plus, I just found out Percy is seeing someone else. So—” Alex lets the word linger.
“Alex, I—”
“I want to get to know you, sweetheart. I want to devour you, but I also want to get to know you. I want to make you laugh. I want to see the way you crinkle your nose when you don’t like something and I want to listen to your voice when you analyze poetry in class.”
Henry’s mouth is open and his eyes are wide. He’s frozen like a statue, and the only place where his skin tingles is under the touch of Alex’s palm.
“And most of all,” Alex says with another swipe of his thumb over Henry’s bottom lip, “I want to kiss you. I want to know how you taste. I want to make you feel good and if I’m lucky enough, I want to hear you scream my name.”
“Fuck me—” Henry says to himself, unaware it came out that loud.
“That can be arranged.” Alex smirks wider.
As if waking up from a trance, Henry blinks faster, his breathing ragged and cheeks burning hot.
“Am I dreaming?” he asks and places his own hand on Alex’s cheek.
“If you’re dreaming, then so am I,” Alex says as he grabs Henry’s wrist and holds out his palm, letting his lips graze the inside of it softly. “And I don’t ever want to wake up,” he adds, before placing a deeper kiss inside Henry’s palm.
“Christ, Alex, I can’t believe this.”
Alex places another kiss, this time lower, on Henry’s wrist, feeling the rush of blood and his haywire pulse beneath his lips.
“That’s not a ‘no,’ sweetheart. Tell me—” Alex says, placing Henry’s palm back on his cheek but not letting go of his wrist. “Do you want the same thing I do?”
And Henry doesn’t say a word.
He doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead, he lets his hand move from Alex’s cheek back against his head and lets his fingers tangle in the still-damp curls. Alex can see the way his pupils change and how a devouring look takes over those blue eyes that have been mesmerizing Alex for so long.
Before he can say anything else, Alex’s mouth is pressed against Henry’s, and he can feel a faint sting at the back of his head as determined fingers thread through his curls and gently pull at his hair. Alex lets his body become mellow as Henry maneuvers him however he likes.
Henry kisses Alex with hunger. He kisses as if he’s been wanting to do this for so long, as if he’s been holding himself back, and now that he’s been given permission, he is not about to lose his chance.
Henry kisses his lips, the corner of his mouth. His lips trail downwards to Alex’s jaw and back up over his cheeks before he returns to press his lips once more to Alex’s mouth. The kisses range from sexual and passionate to small pecks and soft nips, as if Henry wanted to consume him—to devour and to worship, all at the same time.
Alex steps forward once more and presses Henry against the locker, pulling him close against his chest. He keeps him trapped between his naked torso, hot with desire, and the cold metal of the locker door.
And Henry’s skin blooms with goosebumps.
“Fuuuck,” Alex finally groans when they pull apart again. “I’ll take this as a ‘yes,’ baby.”
“Yes,” Henry pants, letting his own head fall back with a soft thud against the door. “Yes, I want you too. I want to feel your hands on me and your mouth and—” he pants, barely managing to catch his breath, because now Alex is attacking his neck, leaving a trail of hickies behind. “—and your cock,” Henry adds with a moan. “So long. For so long I’ve looked and hoped and—nngh, Christ, that feels so good, love.”
Alex’s leg shoved in between Henry’s is what feels so good. That, and the way Alex keeps kissing every inch of his skin, how his big palms are now both wrapped around Henry’s waist, keeping him in place.
He can feel Henry harden under his touch, and Alex is already gone. His aching cock strains against the tight fabric of his underwear, precum already spoiling the white material.
“I’d take every inch of you,” Henry mutters, breathing hard.
“What was that?”
“I said,” Henry begins, as he turns them around and pushes Alex against the locker, “I’ll take every inch of you if you’ll let me. Will you let me, Alex?” he asks, and then he drops down to his knees.
The wind outside blows harder and the rumble of clouds sounds furious. But inside this room, where the steam of the shower lingers in the air, there’s a sweltering heat between them. Although they are both almost entirely naked, there’s sweat starting to bloom on their skin, a light sheen glistening under the crisp fluorescent lights.
“Jesus, Henry,” Alex says, gasping, as he looks down at the man in front of him. Henry is on his knees looking upwards, big blue eyes shimmering with want. His towel is still hanging on his hips, but just barely, and his hands are currently resting on Alex’s hips, fingers gently rubbing over the white material of the underwear.
“Is that a ‘yes,’ love?” Henry asks with a smirk.
“Yes! Yes, goddamn, yes!” Alex nods as he fumbles to take down his boxers, but Henry bats away his hands.
“Let me do it,” he says, and Alex can hear the honey in his tone.
This mix of hunky rugby player and nerdy student, this perfectly polished athlete and posh-talking man—they all blend now into a blurry vision as Alex lets his eyes gaze over Henry’s form.
He’s meticulously moving his hands over Alex’s torso, his abs and then lower, caressing the hem of his boxers, then letting them fall to his thighs, down to his knees and behind, fingers playing over his calves, before Henry bends forward and presses his cheek to Alex’s crotch.
He grabs his calves and gives them a squeeze at the same time he starts to mouth at the bulge in Alex’s underwear. The boxers are already wet from all the precum he’s been leaking, but now that spot is mixed with Henry’s saliva, as he lets his tongue wander over the tip of the cock and then suckles at the spot.
“You’re going to kill me,” Alex groans as he pushes both hands through his curls and yanks, trying to ground himself.
“Mmm, I certainly hope not,” Henry says, the honey tone still present in his voice. “I do plan to make you see heaven, though,” he adds, before starting to pepper a few chaste kisses right above the hem of the boxers.
Alex whines and Henry pulls down his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free. The chill air of the room makes Alex shiver, but then Henry’s mouth is close once again, hot breath ghosting over his shaft.
“Enjoy the ride, darling,” Henry says, looking upwards. “I’ve been told I excel at this skill.”
He then descends on Alex’s head, licking the top side first, before giving it a twirl around the crown with the tip of his tongue. Henry then lets it sit for a moment on his tongue as his eyes look up, watching Alex with hunger.
Alex’s mouth is wide open and for the first time in a long while, he has no words. He can’t even moan or groan—there are no whimpers left in his throat—only the vision of Henry Fox down on his knees, with Alex’s cock now resting on his tongue.
It doesn't take long for him to pull awake from his daydream, because the velvety heat of Henry’s mouth surrounds him again. Henry goes slow at first, clearly trying to adjust to the task he’s been given—or rather, the task he has given himself.
His lips brush softly over the head, making Alex’s entire body jerk. He braces his hands on the locker behind him as his knees start to wobble. Henry moves slowly, scattering light kisses up and down the shaft, like he’s adoring it—worshiping it—taking every inch of soft skin that’s been made available to him as a gift. Alex can feel Henry’s mouth ghost around the head of his cock, gently, with shaky inhales, before Henry finally descends upon it.
“Fucking finally,” Alex thinks, but doesn’t say.
As Henry’s plush lips wrap around his cock, a velvety, wet seal, softer than he could ever imagine, Alex feels his bones melt. Henry lets out a soft whimper and then a shaky inhale through his nose as he settles in on bent knees in front of Alex. He stays there for a while; Alex thinks it could be minutes or hours—he doesn’t even know. He feels transported to another time and place; he feels soft and tender, as if his body had melted away. But at the same time, throbbing between his legs, engulfed by Henry’s lips, is his hard cock that feels like it might explode in an instant.
“Please, baby—” Alex begs, voice soft and pleading.
And Henry listens. After a few moments, after his head starts to bob up and down, lips sliding easily from the tip to the base of Alex’s shaft, Henry starts to moan around Alex.
And well… All Alex can do is start to moan alongside him.
There’s suddenly a vibrating feeling wrapping around his dick and he can feel the way the crown of his cock sometimes presses against the back of Henry’s throat. And Henry gives no sign of reluctance, of feeling like choking, or of wanting to pull back.
He’s not helping himself with his hands either, because one of them is currently palming at his own cock over the towel he’s still wearing and the other one is cupping Alex’s balls.
“Shit! Fuck! Henry, I’m—fuck!”
Alex can feel a slight movement of Henry’s lips around his dick, and that’s because the bastard is smiling. He’s smirking even. And Alex wants to bite back and say something about it, but all he can do is try not to thrust his hips forward as he snaps his head back against the locker door and swears some more.
“I’m gonna—” Alex tries again, breath ragged as if he’s been running all this time. “I want to see you naked before I come,” he says as he grabs Henry by the hair and stops his movement.
“But you’ve—” Henry starts, voice rough and raspy. “You’ve seen me naked.”
“Not enough,” Alex answers as he channels all the strength in his arms, because he has none left in his legs, and he pulls Henry off the floor.
As the blonde stands, the towel that was barely clinging for dear life over his hips finally releases and falls to the floor.
Alex lets his eyes fall over Henry’s body, taking him in up and down.
“Sweetheart,” Alex says as he places his right palm on Henry’s cheek a second time today.
Henry is flushed, his rosy cheeks looking delightful as they bloom against his otherwise paler skin. Alex lets his thumb caress over his new favorite shade and then his thumb slides lower, pressing against Henry’s swollen lips. They’re wet with spit and precum and his mouth looks like it worked hard. And Alex knows it did.
He can still feel the ghost of Henry’s lips around his cock, the way he let Alex’s shaft slide deep against the inside of his cheek or down his throat, slit pressed against Henry’s tongue.
A shiver runs down his spine at the memory, but Alex needs to focus. He needs to touch Henry too—his body craves it. The buzzing in his chest is now louder than ever. There are tingles in his fingertips as Alex grabs Henry’s shoulders and directs him towards the bench in the middle of the room, instructing him to lie down. His left hand is near Henry’s head, while his right is still caressing Henry’s lips, as Alex hovers over him.
“Want to fuck you right here,” he says, voice low with hunger. “Want to see you come all over yourself just from my cock,” he adds with a grin.
“Alex,” Henry gasps as he lies on the bench, body shivering at the cold touch.
“Tell me if you don’t want to,” Alex says softly. “Tell me no, and I’ll stop. I’ll just jerk you off, or I’ll—”
“Touch me,” Henry begs, his bottom lip wobbly under Alex’s touch. “Please, Alex, I—I need...”
Alex covers Henry’s body with his own, pressing him into the bench, naked cocks rubbing against each other. His mouth is now close to Henry’s ear, and with a hot breath that tickles the side of Henry’s neck, Alex whispers, “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”
“I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me,” Henry gasps and Alex almost blacks out. The thought of filling him up, of having his length pressed inside Henry, feeling his tight hole squeezing around Alex—that’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot.
“Fuck, baby! I love to hear you beg,” Alex rasps and Henry arches his back, seeking more touch.
Alex stretches Henry’s arms up on the bench, pinning his wrists above his head as Henry grabs the metal railing of the bench and tries to calm down the heaving of his chest.
“Stay like this, sweetheart,” Alex whispers, taking his hand away and pushing himself up the bench. And Henry stays pliant for him.
Henry whimpers at the loss of heat and connection, but Alex shushes him as he looks down towards the man splayed on the wooden bench. “I’m just getting supplies, baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Be back in a minute,” he says as he bounces around the bench to his locker and yanks it open. His gym bag falls down as he starts to scrabble inside it, looking for a condom and some packs of lube.
He knows they’re there—he packed some in his toiletry bag and that’s in there somewhere. Alex knows he’d find it in a second if only he’d be calm, but the thought of Henry splayed out, ready to be devoured and waiting for him a few feet away, is not helping with his focus.
He finally gets ahold of it and takes the whole kit with him.
Henry is as he left him, arms stretched on the bench, one leg on the wood and the other on the floor, as his cock glistens at the head as it releases some beads of precum.
Alex’s mouth goes dry as he bends over Henry’s frame and licks the tips of his cock and the drops that painted his stomach.
“Mmm,” Alex hums as he rights his neck and looks Henry in the eyes, his mouth still hovering above the tip of Henry’s cock. “You taste so good,” he says and Henry is now biting his bottom lip. “I wish I could tease you and make you beg some more.”
Henry whines at that, eyes pleading for mercy.
“I won’t, baby. Not today.” Alex chuckles. “I want to be inside you.”
“Please, Alex—” Henry says and isn’t that the sweetest sound Alex has ever heard?
He grabs Henry’s hips and arranges them on the bench, legs bent at the knee, as Alex takes a seat between them. Henry’s arms are still wrapped around the metal rod at the end of the bench and his back is pressed against the wood, heels firm against the slats.
One of Alex’s hands is pushing his right leg more open while the other is cupping his balls, pressing his cock flat against his stomach. Alex is not jerking him off or wrapping his fingers around him. He’s focused on his taint, eyes mesmerized with the view. He lets his thumb slide between Henry’s cheeks, grazing over his hole as Henry lets out a sharp inhale.
“Shhh,” Alex whispers, positioning himself better between Henry’s legs. He sits across the bench, feet on either side, as he hikes up Henry’s hips closer to Alex’s lap. He has a better view and can also spread his cheeks wider. “So tight and pretty,” Alex says, ghosting his thumb again over Henry’s hole. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he says and Henry lets out a strangled “Please—.”
“I’ll watch you take me in and milk me dry,” Alex continues as he lets a dollop of spit fall right over Henry’s sensitive hole. The warm glob slides wetly across the puffy rim as Alex grabs at Henry’s soft cheeks, squeezing the meat in the palm of his hand. He spreads them apart, leaving Henry even more exposed under his gaze. Before the blotch of saliva can leave a glistening trail and slide under Henry’s sensitive opening, Alex rubs his thumb over it, spreading it gently over the place where Henry needs him most, and then lets the tip of his thumb glide inside, making Henry’s mouth fall open.
“So beautiful,” Alex says again, and then grabs a pack of lube and coats his fingers in it. “I’ll be patient and open you slowly,” he continues, as the first finger slides in, up to the first knuckle. “Slow and steady, just like you deserve, baby—”
“Nnnngh—” is Henry’s reply, eyes burning with desire.
“But one day…one day I’ll fuck you rough and raw,” Alex warns, letting the whole finger slip inside. “You want that, don’t you?” he asks, raising his gaze and looking Henry in the eyes. His first finger was sliding easily in and out now, so Alex pulled it out and pressed a second one to Henry’s hole.
Henry is tight, but Alex’s slicked fingers are gentle—a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.
“You do want that,” Alex states. “Look at how you’re sucking me in, pulling my fingers inside with your greedy little hole.”
“Jesus Christ—” Henry breathes, his head falling back with a gasp.
Alex pauses for a moment, afraid it is too much. Afraid he is overwhelming Henry, both physically and with his words, but then the man begs again, begs for more.
“Please,” Henry says, trying to rock down on Alex’s fingers. “Please, I’m ready, I need—”
“Not yet,” Alex says, a wave of relief coursing through him. “One more, sweetheart, just to be safe,” he says, but at the same time, he crooks his fingers, finding that spot inside Henry that causes fireworks to erupt inside him.
“Oh, fuck—yes—Alex—there!” Henry mewls and Alex repeats the motion before he lets his two fingers slide out.
Henry doesn’t feel as tight around his fingers, but that doesn’t mean Alex should do a poor job in prepping him just because his hard-on is becoming painful. He needed to make it feel good, make it feel perfect, and maybe he would be lucky enough to do this again some day.
He slicks up his fingers with lube once more, and this time, he presses three against Henry’s opening.
There is a small resistance at the beginning, but once they are engulfed by Henry’s heat, Alex starts to pump the fingers in and out, to crook them up from time to time, as he keeps his eyes glued to that sweet spot.
Seeing Henry take them in so easily while he writhes on a bench makes Alex feel like he is losing his mind. A small moan rips out of Henry and then another louder one as Alex’s fingers ghost over his prostate once more. He finds that sweet spot and presses against it, finger-fucking Henry, thrusting his fingers in and out, keeping up his rhythm as he watches Henry’s hole molding around his digits, sucking them in and releasing them—a tight muscle, now properly stretched.
Henry is panting against his hand, rocking his hips back and forth on the rugged wooden slabs of the bench, still holding tight to the metal rod at the end of it. His babbling is not even close to coherent, just moans and gasps peppered in between pleas for more.
Alex can tell that Henry is close, and he could have him finish like this, on his fingers, maybe with Alex’s mouth wrapped around his cock. Alex imagines the way Henry would tremble as he comes apart, spurting his load down Alex’s throat, clenching tight around his fingers.
He wants to do that. God, he needs it. But he needs to fuck Henry more.
“I need to fuck you,” Alex says matter-of-factly. “Now.”
“Yes—nnngh, please—” Henry says, eyes foggy from the haze of a nearly there orgasm.
Alex withdraws his fingers with care, watching the way Henry gasps at the new emptiness—watching the way his tight hole now clenches around nothing, begging to be filled again.
“Need it,” Henry says, hips pushing forward as if he’s trying to follow Alex’s fingers.
This man will be the end of him, Alex thinks, as he fumbles with the condom wrapper. He manages to tear it open and roll it down his cock, squeezing the base between his thumb and forefinger, in an attempt to calm himself down. He inhales once, then twice and tries to calm his body, because just the thought of sliding back inside that tight hole and making Henry finish on his cock has Alex’s heart racing.
Coating his dick with the leftover lube from the packet, he positions himself with a leg on the ground and a knee on the bench.
“I’m ready, darling,” Henry says, eyes of the clearest blue, now pleading.
And Alex nods. One arm comes down next to Henry’s head as the other is wrapped tight at the base of his cock. Alex leans forward and Henry opens his legs wider in invitation.
Henry nods too and Alex doesn’t linger. The tip of his cock is now pressed against Henry’s opening and with a final look towards Henry’s face, Alex can see him smile. It’s soft and sweet and wrecked. His blue eyes are fluttering and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his lips cherry red from all the ways Henry bit them and Alex cannot believe his luck.
He presses forward and finally slips inside, letting the warmth and Henry’s grip shower over him.
“Okay?” Alex manages to ask, voice shaky. His pulse is so loud in his ears as he tries to breathe and ground himself.
“Okay,” Henry whispers with a nod.
Alex begins to move slowly, groaning as Henry’s body fits snug around him. He moves his hips at a steady pace, trying to keep his eagerness under control. Alex pulls out, leaving just the tip in as Henry involuntarily gives it a squeeze. It’s maddening to be trapped inside the warmth of Henry’s walls, to feel the pull back in—so Alex lets himself go. He rocks his hips again, letting his shaft slide in, slower, deeper, until they are completely united, skin to skin.
Alex can feel his body catching fire—a scorching blaze is running through him, but then it settles, the flame burning slow and steady. Intensity increases with every roll of his hips, with every ragged breath, with every moan Henry lets out under him.
Alex pulls out to the tip again, the fire in his belly dying down once more.
It’s all-consuming, this feeling of being inside Henry. Of seeing his body splayed out in front of Alex, mouth half open and eyes rolled back, moaning and groaning, small gasps of air catching in his throat as he says ‘please’ and ‘more’ and ‘there.’
It’s nothing like he’s ever felt and Alex is no virgin. But he’s never had this desire, this connection—this excruciating need to make someone else feel good or die trying. And Henry looks like he’s feeling very good. He’s cock drunk and almost drooling, body soft and pliant under Alex’s touch. He gave himself up so easily and Alex swears he’s going to handle him with care.
No matter how rough or hard he fucks him, he’s going to hold him close and kiss him after. He’s going to whisper in Henry’s ear all the way he makes Alex feel, all the way Alex can make him feel, if given the chance.
Alex lowers his body, hands gripping on Henry’s hips, keeping them in place, as he lets his mouth press against Henry’s ear and he whispers every little thought that crosses his mind. He’s not sure if Henry can even tell the words apart, maybe catching every other one and hanging on to ‘so beautiful’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘all mine’ like they were his lifeline. That’s when Henry’s glazed-over look seems to clear and Alex giggles at the thought of being able to fuck him stupid.
It’s slow and sweet for a while, but then Alex can feel Henry start to come as he clenches around his cock and fights to arch his back on the wooden bench. He looks wrecked and blissed at the same time, and Alex can’t bear it. He angles his hips and starts to thrust harder, hitting that spot that seems to make Henry moan. He does it again and again, even if his knee is killing him, his back is in pain and his other leg is almost dead from numbness.
“Look at me,” Alex pants, demanding, and Henry’s eyes try to focus. “Want to—” thrust, “—see you—” thrust, “fall—nngh—apart,” thrust, “On. My. Cock.” Alex says and Henry finally locks eyes with him.
Alex’s name falls from Henry’s lips, blanketed by a sharp inhale and then a gasp, and without even touching Henry’s cock, Alex can see the way his body tenses and then Henry spills all over his own stomach, chest and even his chin.
He’s boneless and spent and Alex doesn’t need anything more before he also falls apart. Henry’s hands are back in Alex’s curls, blunt nails running over his scalp, goading him into submission. He leaves goosebumps in his wake as Alex’s breathing becomes ragged, rutting a final time inside Henry.
All Alex can do is lean his forehead against Henry’s and share his air, their lips open and pressed against each other. Any attempt at kissing is rendered null before they both manage to catch their breath. Alex tries not to press Henry, but in the end his arms give up and he’s forced to collapse against Henry’s chest as he buries his face in Henry’s neck—cock still inside him.
“Am I dreaming?” Alex asks with a chuckle. “Or am I dead? I might be dead.”
Henry’s lips twitch into a smile as his eyes flutter open, breath slowly regulating. Henry turns his head towards Alex, who’s now looking back at him and giggles—actually giggles—and if they weren’t already completely spent, Alex would think that Henry’s cheeks are blooming just because of this moment.
And this might be the sweetest sound Alex has ever heard.
“I did promise to make you see heaven, love,” Henry says as he places the sweetest kiss on Alex’s forehead. “I do hope you are neither dead nor dreaming,” he continues, pulling his head a bit sideways so he can look at Alex better. Henry places his hand on Alex’s cheek, just like before and rubs his thumb over the sweaty skin. “—because I really need you to fuck me like that again. And again. Aaaand again. If you’re amenable, of course.”
Alex barks a laugh and finally gathers the strength to push himself off of Henry, slowly slipping out too. Henry lets out a small groan—the loss of feeling full, a certain downside of the moment.
“Amenable,” he said. Alex laughs again and bends down to place a kiss on Henry’s lips. “If I’m amenable,” and kisses his forehead and then the corner of his mouth and under his jaw, rendering Henry to burst out in a fit of giggles.
“Only if you want, of course,” Henry says, clearing his throat, but his cheeks are flushed and the seriousness of his tone does not stick. “Wouldn’t want to force you into something you don’t want.”
“I want you, sweetheart,” comes Alex’s reply, his tone serious. He’s still hovering over Henry, and his heart feels full. The burning in his body has subsided, but there’s still a glowing ember that’s meant to always stay on. “I want you like this, and I want you in any other way you’ll give yourself to me.”
Henry smiles back at him as Alex continues. “I want more. I want it all—holding your hand, kissing you on the street. I want to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me. I wasn’t lying, Henry. I really want the chance to get to know you.”
His voice is trembling and even if he thinks he knows what Henry will answer, there’s still a spark of doubt crawling inside his mind. There’s not enough time for it to catch fire though, because Henry nods and grabs his face and pulls Alex down into a kiss.
They fall back together with an ‘oompf,’ and when they finally stop to catch their breath, Henry says, grinning.
“Alex Claremont-Diaz, will you be my Valentine?”
Alex giggles but before he can answer, Henry adds, “But not just today. I want you tomorrow and the day after too. So the better question is—” and he pauses, giving Alex another tender kiss. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
“Fuck, baby. I thought you’d never ask,” Alex replies, kissing Henry frantically, pressing his body down into the bench once more.
Thunder booms through the sky and the window bangs again. They reluctantly let go of each other and have another quick shower—in the same stall this time—before they gather their stuff and head back to Alex’s dorm.
Alex threads their fingers together as Henry falls asleep on his bed, with his head on Alex’s chest. With a kiss on the top of Henry’s head, Alex whispers, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
To his boyfriend.
It’s February 14th and Alex and Henry are finally boyfriends.