Chapter Text
May
The boy’s lips taste like vodka and Gatorade - cool blue, Henry thinks distantly, as he snakes an arm around the boy’s slim waist and pulls him closer. Their hips are no longer moving to the beat of the music, but instead grind together frantically in a dance much older than the Hip Hop song blasting through the frat house speakers. Henry’s vaguely aware of the crowd of people surrounding them, but the bodies bumping into his may as well be miles away for how much attention he pays them.
He’s had his share of drunk kisses during his first year of college, but none of them have felt like this. He’s never been so intoxicated by the innocent press of lips to his own, and by the time he gets his tongue in the other boy’s mouth, he’s already half-hard and aching for more. His companion seems to be similarly affected, if the way he’s pressing his erection into Henry’s thigh is any indication.
Henry slides his hand up the boy’s shirt and suppresses a whine when he pulls away, his eyes darting around the room as he catches his breath. Shit. Had that been too much for a public place? He’s seen much worse PDA at these parties Pez drags him to, but he hopes he didn’t make the boy uncomfortable.
“You wanna find somewhere more private?” the boy asks; it’s one of few sentences Henry has heard him speak. They hadn’t gotten much conversation in between the boy spilling Henry’s drink and Henry asking him for a dance that had turned into frantic kisses. His voice has the slight Texan drawl he's heard his female classmates raving about, but Henry has never quite understood the charm until this moment.
“Yes,” Henry croaks out, and he isn’t sure how the boy hears him over the din of the party, but he’s soon being pulled out of the crowd and up a short flight of stairs.
“I heard some guys talking about the room they left open for hookups,” the boy says as they reach the top, “It should be just down the hall - ah, here it is.”
The room in question has an “unoccupied” sign hanging on the doorknob. Henry flips it, revealing a giant eggplant emoji on the other side. “Classy,” he says, and his companion laughs.
“C’mon.” The boy pulls him into the room, and Henry locks the door behind them.
He’s had just enough vodka to be unbothered by the dim lighting provided by three clearly fake candles flickering on the dresser, but not quite enough not to notice the disheveled state of the twin bed. They’re clearly not the first couple to have found this safe haven, and Henry doesn’t want to go anywhere near the beige sheets with its suspicious-looking dark spots.
He makes his way to the sofa instead, hoping the dark red material isn’t hiding anything sinister. It’s when he settles back into the cushions that he notices the other boy is still standing by the door, biting his lip and watching Henry with a gaze that’s half-hungry, half-nervous.
“Hey, how much have you had to drink tonight?” Henry hadn’t thought to ask earlier, in the haze of the dance floor and their vodka-flavored kisses.
“Only three drinks,” the boy replies, “I spilled my fourth one on you before I could have much.”
Okay, so he isn’t drunk, then. “We don’t have to do anything here, you know. We can snog for a while longer or go back downstairs for another dance, or we can go our separate ways if you’d prefer.”
“It’s not that,” the other boy says quickly, “I want this.” He looks away from Henry and settles his gaze on a spot in the middle of the carpet. “I just, uh. I haven’t really been with a guy before. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Oh. “You won’t,” Henry says in his most reassuring tone. “Trust me. I wasn’t expecting anything tonight, so this has already been quite wonderful.”
“Yeah?” The boy is smiling again, and Henry thinks as he approaches the sofa that he might be the most beautiful person Henry’s ever seen.
“Yeah,” Henry breathes, and then the boy’s lips are on his, and he soon has a lap full of curly brown hair and wiry muscle.
He hasn’t had enough to be truly drunk, but the press of the boy’s lips and the movement of his hips makes him feel slightly hazy, like this is all a dream he hopes to never wake up from. Pez would surely make fun of him if he knew how gone Henry was for a boy whose name he didn’t even know. He surely will make fun of him when he hears about this tomorrow, assuming Henry doesn’t come in his pants and die of sheer embarrassment before then.
He’s saved from his fate when the boy slides off his lap and onto his knees on the carpeted floor.
“I wanna blow you,” he says.
All Henry can do is nod enthusiastically as the boy’s hands slide up the insides of Henry’s thighs, pausing when they reach the prominent bulge of his aching erection. He leans up to place a kiss just above the waistband of Henry’s jeans, and Henry shivers when the tip of his tongue pokes out to trace along the sensitive skin there. The boy repeats the action, grinning when his fingertips dip under the back of Henry’s jeans and Henry releases a low moan.
He’s embarrassingly close again by the time the boy finally unzips Henry’s jeans and pulls down his boxers. He nearly comes on the spot when the boy touches him for the first time, lightly brushing his thumb over the sensitive head of Henry’s cock. It feels like he’s seventeen again, reduced to the stamina of a virgin getting his first handjob in the sixth form toilets.
"I'm not going to last long," Henry gasps out when the boy's hand closes around him and strokes him with a tight grip. He's been watching his own hand on Henry with an expression of pure concentration, like he's never seen anything quite so fascinating as Henry's leaking red cock. Henry's hips buck up on the third stroke, and the boy’s expression is replaced by a smug smile.
He moves his hand to the curve of Henry's ass and leans forward again, and Henry has a near out-of-body experience when he takes the head of Henry's cock between his plump pink lips.
"Christ," Henry mutters, and the boy seems to take it as his cue to take Henry deeper. Henry watches, struggling to keep his eyes open, as his cock disappears into the other boy's wet, hot mouth until he feels the sensitive head hit the back of his throat. When Henry looks down at the boy's wide brown eyes, long dark eyelashes, and soft pink lips stretched around his cock, something in the back of his mind says, remember this.
As he'd predicted, it doesn't last long. Despite his inexperience, the brunette makes a valiant effort to take Henry, inch by inch, until his nose is nearly buried in the thatch of blonde curls at the base of Henry's cock. He has to pull off a few times, but he makes up for it with the tight, steady strokes of his hand. Finally, he swallows Henry even deeper, and Henry feels a lightning bolt of pleasure flash through his entire body as the boy's throat contracts around him, pushing him over the edge. He comes with an involuntary laugh and a buck of his hips, and when he opens his eyes again, he's treated to a smug smile and bright eyes.
Henry pulls the boy onto his lap and flips them over before returning the favor. He's spent the last nine months perfecting the art of The Blow Job and he fucking loves it - the weight of the boy's thick cock in his mouth, the slight ache in his jaw as he swallows him down, even the tangy taste of the cum that spills down his throat. None of those compare, though, to the expression of ecstasy on his companion's face when he falls over the edge. Henry locks it away somewhere he keeps his most precious moments, trying not to show his amazement at the knowledge that he did that, that he could make someone so beautiful completely fall apart.
They're both sleepy when Henry collapses on top of him, the alcohol and exertion finally catching up to them. He wedges himself half-underneath the boy, who wraps his arms around him and cuddles in like they're more than two strangers who've just sucked each other off in a frat house. It's more comfortable than it should be, and Henry falls asleep more easily than he has in months, maybe years.
He wakes to a cold, empty sofa and two angry frat boys lecturing him about how 'not cool' it is to fall asleep in the hookup room. The other boy is long gone, and Henry's stumbled halfway home by the time he realizes he never did ask his name. He's never going to see him again.