Chapter Text
now
Henry has always had a penchant for a good old fashioned cliche; probably stemming from his love of old movies, particularly his father’s. There’s just something about a happily ever after that just warms him more than a cup of tea ever could. Countless Sunday mornings drifted by, rain pattering against the windows by his bed, his faithful dog David curled in his lap and his father’s chuckle reverberating from the screen of his laptop.
And, much like the cliche he is, he knows it was never a life he would lead for himself. He knows he will never find his Mr Darcy - stereotypes aside, he is such an Elizabeth Bennett - and he has made his peace with that. It wasn’t that he’s lonely - far from it - he has wonderful friends, a sister he would happily set the world ablaze for, and of course, David.
And, once again like the cliche he is, his heart is already occupied by someone he can never, ever have. It had taken time, slightly longer than he’s willing to admit, but he had come to terms with the fact that he will never have him. Not in the way that he wants him most.
“Honey, I’m home!” The voice in question trills, door to their apartment slamming behind him, “I brought dinner!”
He smiles, letting his eyes slide close and imagine, just for a moment, what these words would mean in a different context, one where this is their life. One where his boyfriend is home, excited to tell him about his day armed with good food and cuddles on the couch to boot. It is his life, mostly, minus the very simple fact that Alex is not his boyfriend.
“Hen? Sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The word that melts him in a way where his spine liquifies and drips out of him, leaving a Henry-esque puddle on the floor each and every time. It comes second only to baby, which slips out less frequently, making it all the more special when it finally does.
“In my room!” He calls, realising he may have been silent for far longer than what is normal.
In an instant, Alex’s head pokes around the door, fingers curled around the handle. The face he’s seen a thousand times over and yet his heart still jumps in his chest at the sight, the crook of his grin, the way his curls are drooping down over his face, curling around his ears in a way that only happens when he forgets to book a haircut. But it’s his eyes that give Henry pause every time, deep brown, honeyed pools of warmth that he wants to just dive headfirst into.
He’s panting lightly, a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead and headphones wrapped around his neck.
“Hey,” he smiles, brushing his hair out of his face, “taking it easy today?”
The words remind him of childhood, of his grandmother walking in on him reading a book instead of studying, texting Pez instead of practising a speech. He remembers the shame those words always brought him, how he would scramble to his feet to right whatever wrong he has managed to do. They set him alight, back in the day, but he knows Alex means them with fond affection, like he wants him to take it easy.
“Sleepy,” he supplies, watching as David’s head perks up from his lap. The dog snuffles, shaking his ears before trotting to the end of the bed, plopping himself down and staring at Alex with his head cocked to the side.
“Hi buddy!” Alex kneels beside the bed, scratching behind the dog’s ears in his favourite spot, before glancing up at Henry warmly, eyes falling to the laptop by his side, “Greta Gerwig?”
“Ooh, not today. BBC.”
Alex clicks his tongue and taps his temple, “Duh doy. Rookie mistake.”
“How was your day?”
He smiles, leaning against the headboard as Alex regales him passionately about his day at the office, dealing with fucking Hunter and his ideas that make no fiscal fucking sense! Topped off with a run to blow off some steam that brought him right home - to Henry. He makes a perfect picture, beaming and petting David, knelt at the end of his bed like he belongs there.
“You hungry? I got falafel from that cart you like.”
Henry’s gurgling stomach is response enough and Alex grins, clambering to his feet and grabbing Henry’s hand, hoisting him from his bed and dragging him towards the living room, David trotting along behind them. It’s so painfully domestic that it hurts.
They sit cross legged on the couch, some housewives show that Alex is weirdly obsessed with playing in the background as they share bites of falafel. Henry finds himself swatting Alex’s fork away from his plate, giggling as he spoons something into his mouth. It’s their nightly routine, and, as he watches Alex throw his head back with a laugh that has his teeth gleaming, he knows it’s one he would not give up for anything.
I love you, his heart says with every beat, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
“This is the life,” Alex says around a particularly large mouthful, “I genuinely think we’ve peaked and we’re only twenty two.”
“Bit grim, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” He pauses as he swallows, “Hot guy, falafel, dog, cosy apartment? I don’t know about you but I’m fucking winning.”
Henry chokes out a laugh, masking the look on his face with a large swig of water, willing himself not to splutter it back up.
It’s when they’re both happily full, plates left on the table and belts unbuckled when Alex smiles at him in that too familiar way before he leans in to kiss him.
“Alex,” he gasps, hands immediately flying to his hips as Alex swiftly moves so he’s straddling his lap, grinning wickedly. His fingers dig in tighter and any following thoughts are completely swallowed up by Alex’s mouth, soft yet firm against his.
And so begins the second part of their nightly routine.
–
then
“Oh, Haz. It’ll be fine!” Pez’s voice crackled down the line, the connection growing shoddier by the second, “You could meet your new best friend.”
“I have an old best friend I like just fine most of the time.” Henry replied dryly, using his shoulder to keep the phone propped to his ear as he ducked under an awning.
Rain pelted around him, the footpath basically obscured in its torrential assault. He had just managed to hide away before it began properly, but now he found himself stuck down the road from his new apartment, hiding out in a cafe entrance.
The lights behind gave out a warm glow, small bits of heat escaping when customers left, ducking under umbrellas before running out into the rain. If only he had thought to bring one himself, but his were tucked away in his boxes that wouldn’t be delivered until tomorrow.
“I’m sure Alec will be a wonderful roommate.”
Pez knew his name, he had been by his side when he had been pouring through applications. “Double barrel, eh Hen? Seems up your alley.” He had held his hand in the airport as they had parted, Henry holding back tears, and Pez reassuring him that he was making the right decision. He knew it was true, and he knew Pez was just trying to lighten the mood, but something about it made his skin itch.
“Alex,” he corrected instantly, “And what if he’s a prick? Or he leaves his underwear all over the apartment, or what if he’s homophobic-”
“Christ, I would hope I’m not.”
For a brief moment before he turned around, he closed his eyes, pressed his lips together and prayed to whoever could be listening that the rain would erode a hole in the ground that would swallow him whole.
Sadly, none of that occurred and Henry found himself turning to be face to face with Alex Claremont Diaz, the man he had only met through a few perfunctory emails and an application he had hastily accepted in his panic.
“I’m going to have to call you back, Pez.”
“Is he hot? He sounds ho-” He pulled the phone from his ear and pressed the big red button with a grimace.
Perhaps if he had requested a photo of Alex before agreeing to move in with him, or had looked up any social media before they met, he could have not accepted. He could have saved himself the heartache he knew would come living with the most beautiful man - person, even - that he had ever encountered.
“Alex,” he said dryly, feeling warmth rush to his cheeks, “it’s nice to meet you.”
He held out a hand which Alex simply raised an eyebrow at, sending his defences sky high.
“Is this a business meeting?” He laughed, face brightening significantly, throat bobbing in a way that Henry’s eyes instantly fell to.
That is the only warning he’s given before he’s pulled into a tight hug, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Alex, judging by the look on his face when they pull apart, doesn’t seem to mind.
“Alex Claremont Diaz, as you know. Young, hot law student that is not homophobic whatsoever.” The final word was dragged out, his eyes crinkling into half moons that Henry wanted to drag his thumb underneath.
He didn’t look real, like the protagonist of a novel he would find himself utterly besotted with. Tall, tanned, with black curls that hung loosely around his face, framing caramel eyes that seemed to bore deep into his soul.
“Henry Fox. English literature undergraduate that is happy to hear that.”
“It’s really nice to meet you man, I was half expecting to get scammed.” Alex hiked a backpack further up his shoulder as he spoke, a coffee in his left hand that he had not noticed before.
“Scammed?”
“You’re very,” Alex waved his free hand up and down Henry’s direction as though that explained everything, “...formal in your emails.”
Henry frowned, raising an eyebrow, “Sorry for having class.” It was a joke, mostly, though something that rubbed a sore spot in him.
Sadly, he did have class, something that took two decades to fully drill into him, despite his parent’s best intentions. When your parents were constantly flitting around the country and leaving you in the care of Mary Mountchristen-Windsor, some things were bound to happen.
Alex’s eyebrows shot up and his hands immediately flew up in a defensive manner, “It’s not an insult, I swear!”
Despite himself, he smiled warmly at the man in front of him, feeling something deep in his gut tingle as he smiled back. He knew this would become a bit of a problem, just what lengths he would be willing to go to to see that damned smile on his face; the wide beam that made his entire face light up.
“Well, Henry,” the way his voice curled around his name had him wanting to swoon like a Victorian heroine, “shall we go home?”
Home. Home with Alex, the home that they would share, together, just the two of them. Under one roof. For the next four years. Henry was absolutely fucked.
“I suppose it’s slightly preferable to drowning out there.”
“Funny too.” Alex laughed, seemingly to himself.
Too?
They walked, more so ran, up the road together, laughing as the rain instantly drenched them. As he fell behind, Henry felt a hand grab the crook of his elbow, tugging him further up. His skin was ablaze where they touched, despite the chattering of his teeth from his sopping wet clothes, clung to him like a second skin.
Alex managed to get his key out first, brandishing with a flourish before unlocking the door, unceremoniously dragging him inside.
“Home sweet home.” Henry smiled, gazing around what would hopefully be their home for the next four years.
“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Henry.” Alex turned to him, looking like every wet dream he ever had, dripping rain water from his sopping curls onto the rug.
“Yeah,” he echoed hollowly, “friendship.”
–
now
“Fuck, baby,” Alex groans, breath catching in his throat and coming out in a choked up noise as Henry’s hand finds its way into his curls, tugging sharply, “you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Funny,” Henry murmurs as Alex noses his way up his throat, dotting kisses along before settling in the shell of his ear, “I was thinking the same.”
If the earth opened up beneath him and demons dragged him down to hell, he would go down with a smile on his face and a tightening in his pants.
Alex grinds down against him, ripping a whine from Henry’s throat as he pulls his face back up. Their mouths press together, exchanging breaths more than actually kissing, every groan coming from Alex reverberating through his skull.
“Please,” he gasps into his mouth, not even knowing what he’s asking for, just something.
“Whatever you want, baby,” Alex’s smile turns wicked, his hand trailing down Henry’s stomach and stopping at the hem of his shirt.
His hand tugs the fabric from where it’s tucked into his jeans, hands spreading across his abdomen and warming the skin beneath it. His hand trails slowly, almost reverently and Henry can feel his stomach twitch beneath the gentle touch. His pleas fall on deaf ears as Alex’s hand continues up, brushing past his nipples but not stopping.
He chuckles, dragging his hand back down and reaching for the hem of the shirt, trying to tug it over Henry’s head. He lifts his upper back and allows Alex to yank the fabric away, tossing it over the back of the cough with a smirk, eyes falling down to the exposed skin.
“You,” his mouth starts at the curve of his hip bone, placing a soft kiss there, tongue swirling on the exposed skin, “are,” he moves up past his navel, tongue trailing, burning the skin beneath, “so,” the ridges of his stomach, nuzzling the area with his nose, “fucking,” his breathing is picking up, his chest heaving as Alex’s lips trail higher, “sexy.” He finally wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth.
Henry thrashes beneath the touch, whine turning into a loud moan as the sharp prick of teeth sends a rush straight to his cock, his hips bucking up.
“Impatient today,” Alex murmurs against his chest, nipple red and raw beneath his lips as he moves on to the other one, “fucking desperate for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”
“Yes,” he says instantly, too turned on to feel any semblance of shame, “Please, Alex.”
He was writing on the couch, jeans too tight, skin too hot, body on fire as Alex’s tongue laves against his nipple. His hands tug on Alex’s curls, squeaking as it causes him to bite down harder.
“I love seeing you like this,” Alex murmurs as he pushes his hands against the couch, propping himself so he’s hovering over him, curls falling over his eyes, “completely out of control. Like you’ll die if you don’t have my cock splitting you open.”
“Fuck me,” Henry pants, unable to string more than two words together, “Please, please.”
“Fuck, I love it when you beg.” He kisses him again, nipping his top lip and soothing the sharp wound with his tongue.
One of his hands moves above Henry’s head, gripping the arm of the couch as his other one moves lower, beneath Henry’s unbuckled belt and finally unbuttoning his jeans, tugging the zipper down. He groans in relief as the strain against his cock lessens, even more so when Alex grabs his boxers by the waistband and tugs them down around his thighs, not even bothering to pull them all the way off.
In an instant Henry finds himself face down on the couch, hips pulled upwards and the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled down and a hand slapping gently against the skin of his ass. His thighs quiver as he pushes them together, stomach clenching as Alex’s hands settle on his hips, squeezing tightly.
“What do you want, baby?” Alex asks, and Henry can practically hear the smug smirk in his voice.
He knows what he wants to hear, and he is powerless to give him anything less than what he wants.
“Please, love,” He moans, arching his back and pushing his hips further back into Alex’s hands, “please fuck me. I need you so badly, need you deep inside me. Please, please, ah-” he’s cut off by the sharp sound of Alex’s hand smacking against his ass, the skin warming beneath his touch.
“Good job,” he coos, his hand massaging the tender skin. His hands delve low, his knee forcing Henry’s thighs apart roughly, “God.”
“It’s Henry actua-oh Christ!” His words cut off in an instant as Alex’s tongue, hot and heavy, licks a stripe across his hole, making his fingers dig into the couch beneath him.
Alex delves in like he’s born for it, stroking his tongue up and down around his rim, spearing it inside every so often, making Henry release a guttural moan. It had been too fucking long since he’s been eaten out and God did he miss it and not realise until this exact moment. His brain is fried, wires sparking with every movement of Alex’s tongue. He moans as his tongue dips inside his hole, the vibrations making Henry’s thighs shake as it shoots up his body.
“So good love,” He moans, “so good for me.”
The words only seem to fuel Alex’s fire, his hands reaching down to spread him open further, his face moving rapidly with the movements of his tongue, as though he can’t get in deep enough. Truly obscene sounds are reverberating around the room and Henry can feel the saliva dripping down his thighs but it's filthy in the best way possible.
It isn’t until Alex slips a finger in beside his tongue that Henry's knees almost buckle, the tight grip on his ass the only thing keeping him up as his entire body quakes. He moans loud enough that he fears the neighbours will bang on the ceiling again, but not enough to make him want to stop anything that’s happening right now. One finger turns to two, to three, until finally Alex pulls his face away, panting as he leans back and examines his handiwork.
Henry props himself up with an elbow, glancing back at the other man over his shoulder with a small smile to see he looks utterly debauched, chin soaked until he wipes it with the back of his hand. His eyes close momentarily, his head tipping up to the ceiling and Henry simply watches, although his cock is hard enough to break glass, content to take in the man before him.
And wonder how he ever got so lucky to even have this much of him, even if he can’t have it all.
—
then
It isn’t until the second semester of their final year do things go slightly awry. Henry had done well to not develop any feelings towards Alex and had gotten extremely proficient in lying to himself.
Above all else, Alex was an exemplary roommate; clean (in almost a chaotic way, trying to burn energy by dusting the highest places he could reach), thoughtful and genuinely wanted them to be friends. And he was a damned good friend. It was as infuriating as it was heartwarming.
Alex would drag Henry out to bars to get him out of his shell and introduce him to friends that genuinely seemed to want to get to know him. In turn, Henry would make sure he remembered to eat and bring him glasses of water and coffee to get him through his twelve hour study sessions, sprawled across the living room floor, papers trailing throughout the apartment.
While Henry would never admit it outloud - only in text form to Pez when he was yearning particularly hard - he may have been slightly head over heels for Alex, always had been really.
Thursday nights became ‘Roomie Night’ where they would order whatever greasy food Alex had been craving while Henry slowly showed him classic films he had never seen. This week it was pizza and Singing In The Rain, a fair compromise for them both. He lived for movie nights, counting down the hours as Alex called goodbye every Thursday morning while Henry was still in the shower, prepping for his 10am Chaucer lecture.
Every evening Alex would burst into the apartment at 6pm sharp, boxes propped under his chin and eyes darting around the room until they landed on him, usually curled up on the couch with David curled at his feet. It was his favourite part of the week.
This evening, Alex’s energy was chaotic as he darted around the apartment, so much so that Henry was getting a headache from looking at him. He had plated their pizzas, walking around the table twice in his quest to find a pizza cutter, before making a round trip back to the fridge to pull out two bottles of water, muttering something under his breath.
“How much coffee have you had?” He asked with a light laugh, watching him from across the room, arms folded, “You’re about to wear a hole in the floor.”
Alex whirled around, eyes darting across his face, not settling anywhere, “None. I’m fine. What? You’re being weird.”
“Alex,” his voice softened involuntarily, taking a step closer to the man, “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, leaning against the kitchen table, knuckles turning white from his grip on the edge. He ducked his head down, cheeks flushing and let out a low chuckle as Henry watched with extreme confusion.
“I…I’m bisexual.” He said after a lengthy pause, “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Oh, Alex.”
Alex’s head darted up, eyes wide and lips parted.
“Thank you for telling me,” He says simply, choosing his words carefully, “that must have been very difficult for you.”
He doesn’t want to make it about himself, doesn’t want to let his mind even stray to any possibilities. This was about Alex, who looked near tears and Henry was not going to use it to his advantage.
“It has been,” he gulped, “very confusing.”
“When did you first…think?”
“About three and a half years ago.” Alex said quickly, eyes still refusing to meet his, “Outside a cafe. In the rain. Didn’t really understand it until recently though. Hit me like a fucking truck when I realised though.”
It was Henry’s turn to gape, the blood leaving his face in an instant as he tries to hold himself back, to not let himself jump to the conclusion that he so desperately wanted to reach.
“I can hear you thinking from over here, Hen. Talk to me, sweetheart.”
And the words broke any last bit of resolve Henry had, his heart melting in his chest. Even when Alex was clearly struggling, opening himself up in a way he never had before, he was still thinking of Henry, making sure he was alright. It broke his heart, the shards thrumming deep in his chest.
“I…I don’t…you…Alex.”
Alex’s face went through a range of emotions he couldn’t read before landing on resolute, like every decision he needed to make was done for. He straightened up, finally meeting Henry’s gaze head on before stalking across the space between them in three long strides. Before Henry could blink, a warm hand clasped the back of his neck and pulled him down the few inches between them, pressing their lips together.
Henry’s brain scrambled, sending mixed messages throughout his body and screaming at him to move, to do something. Seemingly sensing his hesitation Alex froze, hand loosening from around his neck and going to move back.
“No.” Henry gasped, arms coiling around Alex’s neck and pulling him in again, sliding their lips together.
Alex moaned into the touch, tilting his head and opening Henry’s lips beneath his, sliding his tongue in and moving to practically devour him. Henry was on fire, every inch of skin contact between them igniting the flame and making his knees shake beneath him. It didn’t feel like his own reality, one where he could kiss and touch and finally feel Alex beneath his fingertips.
“Baby,” Alex groaned, eliciting a small whine from Henry against his lips, “Oh you like that, do you?”
Henry nodded frantically, chasing Alex’s lips and taking everything he could give him. It was like coming to life, electricity shooting through his veins and sparking his heart back to life.
“Oh baby,” Alex panted as they finally pulled apart for air, foreheads pressed tightly together, “you and I are going to have so much fun.”
If the words made Henry’s heart shatter a tad in his chest, he didn’t let it show on his face. Fun was fine, he could live with fun. He would take what he could get.
—
now
“Fuck,” Alex pants, finally opening his eyes and staring at him with something he can’t discern, “I think I fucking died and went to heaven.”
Funny, because I feel like I’m going to end up in Hell for this. Henry simply wiggles his hips, breath hitching as Alex seems to get the message and moves forward, hand grasping his hip, fingers curling in hard enough to bruise. And he hopes it does. He wants to see marks on his skin, deep purple bruises that he can catch glimpses of on the nights he sleeps alone, curled up in his own bed.
The familiar snick sounds behind him followed by the sounds of Alex slicking himself up and the blunt pressure at his hole that has him keening. He can feel Alex teasing, firmly rubbing his cock up and down the swell of his ass, pushing against but not inside.
“Alex.” It comes out more of a breath than a word, quickly breaking off into a moan as Alex slides in, inch by inch.
No matter how many times they’ve had sex, in however many positions, he has never gotten used to that initial feeling, the first push of Alex’s length inside him, how it has him scrabbling for something to grab onto, every puff of air in his lungs escaping in this exact moment. It’s everything and it’s overwhelming and he can practically feel Alex in his throat.
“So fucking tight,” Alex mutters, almost to himself, “no matter how many times I use you sweetheart.”
It isn’t often Alex gets like this, primal and downright filthy with his words, but he loves it. The words have his cock twitching, leaking against the couch until it's practically soaking beneath him.
“Your…” he pants as Alex bottoms out, the sharp ridges of his hip bones pressed firmly against the swell of his ass, “filthy mouth, love.”
“You love it, love how I talk to you…make you take it. Such a slut for me sweetheart.”
The word, as well as the pressure of Alex’s cock on his prostate, has an undignified noise falling from his lips, raising in volume as he pulls slightly out and presses against it again, hips slapping against his ass sharply.
“Just…for you…” More than he will ever know.
“Too fucking right sweetheart. All mine to pound and take and fuck.” His hips stutter on a particularly hard thrust, his fingers digging impossibly deeper into Henry’s hips, “My beautiful fucking slut.”
“Please.” The words have dry sobs wracking his body, too intense and overwhelming and perfect.
Words stop being necessary after that, the apartment filled only with the sounds of the couch creaking, Alex’s low moans and the choked off breaths escaping Henry’s lips. That familiar coil begins burning in his stomach as his cock brushes against the couch cushion. He grinds his hips down, chasing the feeling as Alex pushes him deeper into the couch, his face turned to the side to avoid suffocating.
It’s everything he needs, his brain blissfully shutting off as Alex uses him, takes what he needs and he loves it. He feels Alex lean down, the change in angle sending him impossibly deeper, as he presses kisses all along Henry’s back, nipping gently at the skin and sending sparks up his spine.
“Alex,” He pants and the other man, seemingly getting the message, leans down to wrap a tight hand around his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
He’s like a man possessed, practically assaulting his prostate with the speed of his thrusts, grunting, beyond words as he just doesn’t stop. Fire is scrabbling its way up his throat, constricting his lungs and clouding every thought that isn’t Alex.
“Oh god, Christ, Alex.” And he’s gone, spilling over the edge with a breathy laugh escaping him.
His head lands on his folded arms beneath him, pushing his hips up to allow Alex to keep thrusting, biting his lip to suppress the whimper at the oversensitivity. This has always been his favourite part, being completely spent and allowing Alex to take his pleasure, take what he needs and just use him for it.
“That’s it, love,” he murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear, “Cum inside me. Please. I need to feel it. Please, please, please.”
The words seem to do the trick, Alex’s hips stuttering as he swears a litany of curses behind him and he can feel the familiar warmth filling him as Alex finishes inside him, fingers loosening around his hips.
“God, baby,” He pants, slowly pulling out and rubbing Henry’s back soothingly as he hisses at the feeling, “how did we go so long without this?”
Henry mumbles some nonsensical noises, groaning as Alex collapses against his back, his weight pushing him deeper into the couch. They lie in silence for a moment, regaining their breath until Alex starts whining, scrabbling at Henry’s sides.
“Turn over. I wanna kiss you.”
If that makes Henry’s heart completely melt in his chest then that is his business. He complies, shifting so they’re lying side by side, plastered together so that they won’t fall from the couch, Alex’s arm winding around his waist and holding him close.
True to his word he leans in, much more carefully than their actions of the last half over, and kisses him softly, nothing more than a simple press of lips.
“You’ve ruined me.” Henry says, chuckling as Alex begins peppering kisses across his face, every inch of it he can reach, before reaching down to his neck and blowing a raspberry there, “Stop that, you cretin.”
“Stop talking dirty, I can’t get hard again that fast.”
“I hate you.”
“No sweetheart,” Alex brushes a hand through his hair, trailing his hand down to run a thumb across his cheek, “I don’t think that you do.”
He wants to laugh at the irony, wants to slap Alex and ask him how he doesn’t see. He does neither of these things.
“No,” Henry agrees, knowing just how true that statement rings, “I suppose I don’t.”