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Henry has been gone for less than six hours and Alex can’t stop thinking about him.
This is nothing out of the ordinary – Alex can never stop thinking about Henry, not since the day he first met him, but when he’s gone, it’s like there’s an itch under his skin he can’t quite scratch.
He’d given Henry a proper goodbye, jaw still aching slightly from rimming Henry within an inch of both of their lives. The buzz in his veins hasn’t tapered the way it usually does after the bone-deep satisfaction he gets from Henry getting him off, but rather intensified in a way that has him wanting his hands back in Henry’s hair immediately.
It doesn’t help that he can see Henry everywhere in their home in a variety of ways; a dog-eared book on the coffee table, the handprints on the fridge from the other night, his favorite sweatshirt in a heap on their bed.
The hallway, just steps from their bedroom where Alex can still see Henry losing control, the puddle around him growing as his face fell with relief.
Weeks removed from that first incident, Alex’s face still burns at the thought. The complete and utter trust Henry gave him, the pinch of his eyebrows as he chased his pleasure while still floating on a cloud of relaxation. Alex was always willing to give anything a shot when it came to Henry, he just didn’t realize that it would be so good .
Watching as Henry turned the reins to Alex, accepting everything he handed over and relishing in the pressure being put on him was intoxicating in a way Alex didn’t expect.
Like a haze that hasn’t quite cleared, Alex has found himself wondering how it would feel to be on Henry’s side of the equation. Squirming, desperate and aching and at the mercy of Henry for something so menial, something no one has ever taken control of but himself.
The thought alone has his stomach swooping, blood rushing in his veins as if he were still in bed with Henry, floating on the come down. It’s not an entirely new feeling – as soon as Henry suggested the idea, Alex knew he would be into it, but the newness is evident in the way Alex wants to try it, too. He was perfectly content giving Henry what he needed because it was hot as fuck – turning Henry on turns him on, after all – but he’s starting to think this is a nobody loses situation.
Henry’s ‘ I’ve landed xx’ text sends him out of his spiral for the time being, shutting down the part of his brain that worries whenever Henry’s out of contact, so he heads to their room for a quick nap before he has to take David on his afternoon walk.
If he skips the muscle-memory bathroom trip on the way, well.
Nobody knows but him.
–
The thing about Alex Claremont-Diaz is he doesn’t do anything half-assed, and this is no exception.
He fills a water bottle to take with him on his walk with David, even though it’s only the walk that Alex refers to as a ‘jaunt’ – no more than thirty minutes, or he’ll be too accustomed to someone being home every day in the afternoon, says Henry – and by the time they’ve looped around the park down the street, it’s halfway empty.
He remembers that night weeks ago, how it took Henry several glasses to start feeling the effects, wonders how he’ll fare, how long he’ll last. Instead of exploring that thought in public, he crouches down next to David and snaps a quick selfie – tongue out to match him, of course – sending it off to Henry before starting his way back to the brownstone.
Hyper-aware of his body, Alex can’t stop searching for the feeling Henry was chasing.
“It’s like this… pressure,” Henry had explained that night, after everything was said and done. “Like a heaviness. Almost calming, but insistent enough where it’s in the back of my mind the whole time.”
So, Alex chases the pressure. He and David get home and Alex refills his empty water bottle, taking a few sips as he makes his way into their kitchen. It’s his week for the general kitchen things, so he welcomes the distraction, stacking plates and wiping down counters until he’s almost all the way through his cleaning playlist and the bottle he just filled.
He gets a text from Henry as he’s finishing up on the counters, grabbing his phone with a small grin. Henry’s stuck in meetings almost the whole time he’s in Chicago, but he’s finding small moments to update Alex, tell him the most recent outlandish thing that Pez said to executives. The last message is something about one of the few older white men on the board and a packet of powdered donuts, and Alex can’t wait to hear the whole story with Henry’s expressions to add to it.
It’s Henry responding to the photo from earlier, a heart reaction and a simple ‘ My boys xx’ that has Alex’s heart fluttering all the same.
‘Your boys miss you ’ Alex sends back, then a second later: ‘ but don’t let david tell you he misses you more he’s a liar’
Alex takes another sip from his water bottle as he watches the typing bubbles on Henry’s side appear and fade, and it’s not even until he’s setting it down that he realizes that it's nearly empty again.
He feels the first twinge as he’s moving to the fridge to grab the pitcher, an ache that’s sharp at first, but settles into something manageable, something almost… exciting. Like a buzz under his skin that he wants to ride out, like a high.
He’s been at this point before, after one too many coffees during late night study sessions in undergrad, too distracted by his readings to take a break, but the difference between then and now is he would just cut his losses. He’d feel that first ache and get up, bookmark his spot and nip it in the bud, but that’s not the plan tonight.
Tonight, he refills his bottle, lays back on the couch, and turns to his phone.
Henry’s response has come through, a chastising paragraph about Alex daring to speak of their son that way and how David wouldn’t ever lie to him, and Alex can’t do anything but marvel at how much he loves this man with every fiber of his being.
The next hour passes easily with Henry in a meeting, Alex flipping between Twitter and TikTok and feeling his mind go significantly more numb. He throws the picture of him and David up on his Instagram story and is immediately inundated with notifications, smiling at the fact that Henry is one of the first ‘heart’ reactions, even in his meeting.
As if his ears were ringing, Alex can hear the click of David’s nails across the hardwood, and he reaches down instinctively to scratch at his ears as he passes. David huffs happily, then before Alex can even process, he jumps up on the couch.
Directly into Alex’s lap, one bony paw digging directly into his bladder.
The yelp he lets out in pure shock scares David back to the floor and has Alex pressing his legs together. For the first time since this afternoon, since his first thought of seeing this through, Alex feels it.
The pressure, the heaviness, the insistence.
It’s fucking intoxicating.
He thinks of Henry after the gala, the way he would shudder at the fullness and let it ride through his whole body and the thought alone sends a shiver down his spine.
A deep breath later, Alex lets himself settle into the feeling, the low thrum of arousal that’s joined it. God, he wishes Henry was here, wishes he could tease Alex in the way that Henry knows drives him absolutely insane.
Instead, he takes that rein himself, trailing his hand down to his stomach and pushing in just so and the impact is immediate. A sharp ache that sends sparks through his whole body, has his toes curling. He’s playing a dangerous game here, he knows that, but God if that doesn’t make it all the more fun.
Another deep breath, another slight push in at his abdomen and Alex can’t help the gasp that escapes, nor the way his knees curl up on instinct. His legs clamp together as he curls in on himself, but nothing could possibly stop the dam from breaking, even if it’s just a quick leak before he gets himself back in control.
“ Fuck ,” Alex gasps, grabbing at his crotch, heart racing as he feels the dampness under his palm. “Holy fuck .”
That just happened. Without trying, without forcing anything, Alex pushed himself to the brink.
The wave of urgency passes with that lapse in control, enough so Alex can breathe deeply, unfurl his legs with only slight hesitation – this couch would be an absolute bitch and a half to clean.
After a bit of a mental pep-talk, Alex sits up – still grabbing at himself even if it’s more of a safety measure than anything at this point – and lets himself exhale fully for the first time since David tried to join him on the couch.
He should call Henry, let him be a part of this in all of its debauched glory, show him that his husband, the one who loves to get off on being in control, is currently losing it bit by bit.
Alex would love to do that, but instead, he’s getting up from the couch on shaky legs, actively feeling himself grow more desperate from the change in position. The wet spot under his palm has gone clammy now, and he chances a glance, slowly removing his hand to assess the damage.
God. God .
There’s a dark spot on his sweats, a deep gray surrounding the usual heather, and Alex can feel his cheeks heat at the sight of it. It’s not embarrassment, not quite, but a different, headier feeling. The warmth in the moment, the satisfying ache of pulling it back together.
Knowing that Henry would be losing it in a completely different way, watching Alex come undone so he could understand how to make Henry feel better than he’s ever felt.
He gets it.
The rush, the pounding in his ears, the way he can’t control himself even when he’s giving it his all.
The way Henry will still love him in spite of this, how he’ll love him through it, how he’ll love him with it.
Alex barely gets through that thought and a few paces down the hall before another, longer spurt escapes and he’s grabbing himself again, leaning against the wall as he relishes in the brief relief. He stops it as soon as he can, but he can feel the heat traveling down his leg, feel his sweats sticking to his thighs.
There’s no stopping it now – he’s going to lose control, and soon.
For a second, he shakes himself out of the haze of arousal, of pure desperation to take in his surroundings. It takes him a second, more focused on making it down the hall, to realize exactly where he’s standing.
The ache intensifies, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s actively trying not to piss himself in the hallway, he’d probably get hard at the memory of Henry doing just that in this exact spot.
He’s basically fighting that anyway, everything about this whole experience reminding him of Henry, about how badly he wishes he was here to watch him fall apart.
Alex needs to call him, he decides, quickly making his way down the hallway and into their bathroom, each step causing him to leak a little more, the stain on his pants spreading across his thighs.
“Shit, shit, shit, ” Alex gasps, grabbing for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie with shaking hands.
Too shaky, it seems, because as soon as it’s out of his pocket, it falls to the floor.
Without thinking, he bends down and grabs it, and it’s only on his way up that he realizes that was an awful idea.
Spurt after spurt release under his hand, a stop-and-start he tries to handle to no avail, until finally, he gives up.
No. He gives in .
Alex breathes, shaky and gasping as he lets himself lose control, heat soaking into his sweatpants and splashing around his feet as his bladder aches in relief. Through sharp and heavy breaths, he finally moves his hand off his crotch, another pulse of wetness making the fabric of his sweats shiny as he continues to spill into them. After what feels like an eternity, the stream finally tapers to a stop and he can feel the remnants of overwhelmed tears going tacky on his cheeks.
Alex’s blood is on fire , the relief making way for arousal as he feels himself grow hard under the cooling fabric. His phone is still in the hand that wasn’t holding onto his control, Henry’s contact pulled up – his husband’s contact photo smiling up at him is enough to make the heat at the base of his spine burn just a bit hotter.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Alex opens his camera, aims it down at the cooling mess in his lap and snaps a photo.
‘so… i think get it’ he types out, the five words still proving difficult under his trembling hands.
Before he can overthink it, he presses send, watches as Henry’s read receipt pops up, sinks to the floor with his back against the bathtub and holds his breath.
He knows Henry’s already in for the night – the last text in their thread being a photo of the yellow roses he’d brought back to his hotel room – and he knows there’s no way in hell he’d find this anything less than terribly hot, but part of Alex still worries. Worries this is too much, worries Henry’s only into being desperate himself, not having his partner desperate, too.
Worries that maybe he should’ve thought this through a little more. But none of those worries are valid because between one breath and the next, Henry’s calling him.
Alex swallows around the lump in his throat, then accepts.
“Baby,” Alex breathes in greeting, voice shaky with residual adrenaline.
“Alex,” Henry says, and Alex knows that tone. Knows how his longing laces every syllable, how the gravel of his voice gives away that he’s just as affected as Alex. “What is it that you get, hmm?”
Taking himself out of his ruined sweatpants, Alex gives one firm stroke to his cock, now fully hard under his hand.
“I get it,” Alex says, and Jesus he already sounds wrecked. “How it makes you feel, how good it is. Jesus Christ , I understand now.”
Henry groans on the other line, a sharp contrast to the muffled sounds of fabric underneath that tip Alex off to Henry undressing.
“Tell me,” Henry says, a little breathy. “Since you neglected to let me know you’d be going on this little expedition without me.”
Alex’s stomach swoops, heart pounding as he works his cock in light, even strokes, just as Henry does when he wants him to keep talking. He knows Henry isn’t angry, knows he isn’t disappointed or feeling anything other than completely turned on, but the order and the condescension have Alex’s head spinning.
“I wanted to know how it felt,” Alex admits on an exhale. “Wanted to – God, wanted to feel how you felt, wanted to feel how I made you feel.”
Henry hums, a low thing in the back of his throat, just shy of a moan. “Is that right?”
“Hottest thing to watch you lose it like that,” Alex says, shedding his soiled sweatpants and kicking them into the puddle he’d created. His cheeks burn again. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you probably felt, like when you edge me until I can’t think straight.”
“I find it hard to believe that the edging is what makes you unable to think straight, darling,” Henry says, a laugh in his tone. Alex can just barely make out the rustling of sheets, knows it’s Henry shifting his legs, finding a comfortable position before taking himself in hand.
“Fuck you, you know what I meant,” Alex groans. “God, baby, the fuckin’ pressure .”
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Henry says, quiet. He’s in control here, they both know it, but he’s following Alex’s lead. No pressure, no pushing, just them.
“More than something,” Alex says, palming at himself with a bit more insistence now. “Felt it in my fuckin’ teeth . Tried to hold it, wanted to be good for you.”
“Oh, love, you are ,” Henry encourages, voice tight with the edge of arousal. “So good, so bloody hot. Can’t believe you did this.”
Alex laughs, light and breathy.
“Fuck, me either,” he says, taking himself back in hand properly, thumbing at the head of his cock where it’s steadily leaking precome. “But I’d do anything for you.”
On the other end, Henry moans, a quick muffled thing if only for the sake of the people sharing a wall with him. “Dangerous game you’re playing, Fox.”
Alex echoes with a moan of his own, low and in the back of his throat.
“You know me, Claremont-Diaz,” Alex says, “I play to win.”
“ Christ , Alex,” Henry all but whines . “Tell me you’re close, can’t wait much longer.”
Alex’s hand speeds up, stoking the flame of the low-burning arousal that’s been sitting heavy in his spine since his first leak on the couch.
“On a fuckin’ hair trigger, baby, have been for the last hour,” he says on a moan. “Since I first started to leak, almost got too hard to fully lose it.”
“Jesus, Alex, I can’t,” Henry gasps, and Alex can hear the slick slide of lube against Henry’s skin. “Said you’d do anything for me, yeah?”
Alex nods, moans his agreement when he realizes Henry can’t see him.
“Anything, baby,” Alex says. Alex means , with his whole fucking chest.
“Come with me, love,” Henry breathes, too close to hold on much longer, Alex can tell. “ Christ , I’m – Alex, with me, please. ”
Alex barely has time to respond, a quick uh huh before he’s coming hard , thick ropes pulsing over his hand and spilling into his lap as he listens to Henry work himself through his own orgasm. The breathy moan of a laugh is a sound Alex will never tire of hearing, even if he’d rather hear it in person than from several states away.
They ease down from the high, sharing breath and satisfied hums as they slowly crawl out of the haze of pleasure together.
A hum from Henry pulls Alex back down to Earth, stretching his leg out just a bit as he wipes his hand off on his thigh.
“You’re incredible,” Henry says, still a bit breathless. Alex wants to steal the rest of his breath away. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
Alex huffs a laugh, heart still beating just on this side of too fast. “I’m beginning to think it was just as much for me as it was for you,” he says, pushing at his pile of wet clothes with his foot. “Lame that I have to clean it up on my own though.”
A shift of fabric. An easy breath.
“You won’t have to, next time,” Henry says, sure and definite, that ‘no nonsense’ tone of voice he uses to make sure Alex knows he’s serious. “I’ll take care of you.”
There’s always a warmth in Alex’s chest when it comes to Henry, slow burning, flames fanned with every ‘I love you’, every ‘I’ll be home soon’, every ‘fucking yours’ .
Right now, though, the warmth is all encompassing. Solid and thick and overwhelming in the best way.
“I know you will,” Alex says, thumb brushing over the underside of his wedding band. “You always do.”