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Birthdays were meant to be celebrated, not ignored.
Alex knew that better than anyone. Hell, he loved celebrating his birthday—the time with family, the laughter, the food, the obnoxiously sweet presents June, Nora, and Henry insisted on getting him, and, most importantly, Henry kissing him senseless that moment the clock struck midnight on March 27th as a form of greeting.
But the universe, in all its infinite cruelty, had different plans for him this year. Plans shaped like overstuffed case folders bleeding out paperwork, back-to-back deadlines that mocked him with their urgency, and a boss who was a fantastic lawyer, but had the work-life balance philosophy of a caffeine-addicted demon that didn’t believe in days off.
“Bullshit,” Alex muttered under his breath. “If God got a rest day after building the entire fucking universe, why can’t I get even an hour of rest, huh? That’s just fucking unfair. Straight-up discrimination to mortals.”
And so, despite his dramatic grumbling and the deep ache of wanting to be tangled up in Henry’s arms, he was spending his 30th birthday drowning in legal paperwork.
The office was too quiet for a Friday night. It was also the kind of quiet that pressed in at the corners, too heavy and still. Where every tick of the clock sounded like it was personally taunting him for still being at the office and not spending his birthday at home with the people he loved. Even the air conditioner hummed like it was about to sleep before he did.
Alex hunched over his desk, tie hanging loose halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Case folders sprawled across the table like a crime scene, and a sad border of half-empty paper coffee cups stood guard around him. His eyes burned, not just with exhaustion, but with that specific brand of regret reserved for people who make terrible career decisions on their birthday.
He had taken a lot of “breaks” in between, which mostly consisted of going to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall, and silently staring at the wall while willing time to speed up, reverse or collapse entirely. At that point, he wasn’t picky. He just needed something to make this day feel like anything other than misery.
He flipped open another folder and glared at a paragraph that looked more like an angry brick of legal jargon than anything resembling the English language.
“Where the hell’s the disposition file for this case?” he muttered.
His patience has reached its limit. “Maraiah!” he called toward the door. “Can you bring me the Sanderson file? Please, before I lose my fucking mind.”
He wasn’t even sure if Maraiah was still in the building. It was nearly 10PM, and even his overachieving and most dedicated paralegal deserved to go home and get some rest at some point.
The door opened a moment later.
“Yes, finally,” Alex sighed, annotating notes on the margins of another thick file. “Thank you, Maraiah. Just set it down over th…”
“Maraiah? Who’s that?”
The voice—all warm, familiar, and honey–soft with an unfairly seductive British lilt—sent a wave of shock straight down Alex’s spine.
His hand froze mid-writing. The tip of his pen stayed on the paper.
Time, in an act of pure betrayal, completely stopped.
He lifted his gaze, and upon seeing the person at his door, he forgot every basic bodily function he’d ever been taught.
Henry stood framed in the doorway wearing a trench coat. Not the classy navy blue winter one he reserved for galas and charity events or the slim and elegant black one he wore to interviews.
No. This one is a light gray trench coat, cinched tight at the waist—too tight. The coat’s collar was turned up, rain-damp blonde bangs brushed his forehead. Slightly dilated blue eyes glittered with mischief…and something else Alex couldn’t identify but it was dangerously close to seduction.
Alex blinked once. Twice. As if that would help his brain restart, but it sadly remained in the Error 404 status.
“You’re definitely not Maraiah,” he managed, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smirk he absolutely did not feel in control of. “But I guess I’ll settle for you.”
Henry’s lips curved. “Settle?”
“Please,” Alex drawled it out, even as his pulse thundered like it was trying to escape. “I didn’t realize Scotland Yard offered house calls and cross-country trips now. Should I expect a pipe? A magnifying glass? Maybe even a deerstalker? Because this coat? Sherlock Holmes levels of dramatic, baby. Although you give off more Irene Adler energy, and the Dominatrix vibe is working for me, but hey, I’ll never complain about Sherlock. Holy fuck, Benedict Cumberbatch was ridiculously hot in that show.”
Henry arched a single eyebrow. “Is he now?”
“Mmhmm.” Alex’s answering hum came out softer than he meant to, admission and affection tangled in one embarrassing sound. “Very mysterious. Very dramatic. Those killer cheekbones could cut…”
But Henry didn’t let him get to the end of that sentence.
He simply slid a hand down to the belt of the trench coat, tugged the knot loose, and let the fabric fall open on its own.
Alex didn’t just gasp.
He completely forgot how to breathe at the sight in front of him.
Henry, his beloved Henry, stood wrapped in black lace and pink silk. A delicate lace corset top hugged his torso, soft pink silk panties with a tiny black bow in the center rested low on his hips, framing the bulge beneath that instantly made Alex’s mouth water. Garter straps outlined pale skin and hugged his polo player thighs. Sheer black thigh-high stockings clung to long legs. Black knee-high stiletto boots gleamed to perfection under the dim office lights like a weapon specifically designed to ruin him.
Henry looked like temptation incarnate made flesh. Like a fantasy Alex had never dared to say out loud. A present no sane man would be able to unwrap slowly.
“Happy birthday, Attorney Claremont-Diaz,” Henry purred, the sound quickly sliding down Alex’s spinal column like velvet dipped in sin.
Alex’s jaw dropped open. “Sweet, holy mother of God…” He sputtered and choked on his own vocabulary, his cock achingly hard beneath his boxers. “Baby, what is…what…the fuck…”
Henry’s smirk deepened, sinful and patient.
Alex’s brain finally managed half a coherent thought. “Baby, not that I don’t love this—because I really do—but what’s got you dressing like a burlesque showgirl who’s about to sing ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’ as the opening act at the Moulin Rouge?”
Henry glanced down at himself, then fixed Alex with a look dripping with mock offense. “Burlesque?”
Alex lifted both hands in surrender, a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey hey, no shade. Nicole Kidman was gorgeous in that movie. I mean, I get why Ewan McGregor’s character fell head over heels, but you…”
His voice dropped an octave lower with permission, turning softer and warmer. “...you’re an otherworldly vision, baby.”
A flush bloomed across Henry’s cheekbones, subtle but unmistakable, and Alex felt the universe reorganize itself around that sight.
Suddenly, the quiet office didn’t feel hollow and suffocating anymore.
It felt like the universe had finally remembered his birthday and was giving him the chance to celebrate properly before midnight stole the chance away.
Henry scoffed, half-amusement, half-disbelief, as if Alex’s compliment was something he expected by default yet still not something he’d ever fully learned to handle.
Alex pushed back from his chair with a sharp inhale, rising like instinct had taken over, hands already reaching for Henry’s waist. He needed to touch him, to pull him into his arms, to confirm that this silk-and-lace fantasy wasn’t a figment of his imagination brought upon by caffeine poisoning and sleep deprivation.
But Henry’s palm met his chest, firm and commanding.
“Sit still,” he said. Soft and final. An order wrapped in velvet.
The words hit Alex like an electric shock. His knees gave out without the courtesy of consulting his brain and the rest of him, and he dropped back into the chair so fast Henry’s lips twitched again.
“Good boy,” Henry murmured, and Alex felt the sound in places he wasn’t prepared to admit out loud.
He stepped closer, stiletto heels clinking faintly across the marble floor, each step a quiet promise. The trench coat loosened over his shoulders, slowly slipping open like an invitation. It revealed the elegant curve of his collarbone, the pale slope of his neck, the delicate thin straps of the corset top framing alabaster skin Alex desperately wanted to mark with his teeth.
Alex swallowed hard. “Baby…”
Henry didn’t reply. He allowed the silence to answer for him, all heavy and charged and suffocating in the best way possible.
He reached the edge of Alex’s desk, braced a hand beside the stack of case files, and leaned in just enough. The coat parted further, offering a teasing glimpse of lace-framed cleavage. It was a teasing and calculated move designed to ruin.
“My love,” Henry crooned, voice molten and unhurried, fingers brushing the back of the chair, “are you ready for your birthday present?”
Alex tried to speak, anything in English, Spanish, even a grunt, groan or moan would’ve sufficed, but nothing came out of his mouth. Just a shaky and embarrassingly eager breath that gave him away entirely.
Henry accepted that silence as the yes Alex was too undone to form.
He circled behind the chair, steps quiet and predatory. Alex fought the strong urge to turn his head, partly because he wanted to obey and mostly because anticipation was clawing at his ribs in a way that made breathing feel optional.
He heard the rustle of fabric, which meant that the trench coat hit the floor.
That meant Henry was now only in lace and silk and boots. Oh fucking God above!
Alex’s head twitched like he might look.
But then, he felt it.
Warm lips brushed the side of his jaw.
Henry kissed him just below the ear, soft, slow and gentle. Alex’s head fell back instantly, exposing more skin and baring his throat without a single conscious thought. Offering himself.
Henry hummed in approval.
Another kiss followed, lower this time.
A lingering press of lips near the pulse point. A slow lick up the column of Alex’s neck that tore a shiver straight down his spine.
“Baby, fuck…” Alex whispered, fingers curling tight around the armrests.
Henry smirked against his skin, lips lazily dragging downward, leaving heat in every place they touched. Kisses turned wetter, darker, each one placed with wicked precision. The sound of him sucking deep, pretty purple marks into Alex’s neck echoed in the silence of the office.
Silk and lace rustled whenever Henry shifted and moved. Alex’s breath hitched, caught and broke. The entire room felt suspended in desire.
And for the first time all week, Alex didn’t think of any deadlines, or court filings or case dispositions.
He only thought about Henry, warm skin, black lace, pink silk, and the devastating promise of everything Henry intended to do to him next.
Henry’s lips kept working Alex’s neck with unhurried devotion—kissing, sucking, tasting, lingering like he had nowhere else to be and Alex was the only thing worth consuming. Every soft drag of lips, every warm breath against his skin made Alex’s mind fuzz at the edges. His breathing stuttered, fingers flexing uselessly against the armrests, body reacting long before his brain could keep up.
Then Henry’s warm hands slid down his shoulders from behind. His thumb brushed just under the collar of Alex’s half-undone dress shirt. Alex instantly felt the shift in Henry’s body: a calculated intention, a change in rhythm.
A beat later, Henry moved.
He stepped around the chair, only in lace, silk and boots, and Alex’s pulse leapt just watching him. Before he could brace himself, Henry swung a long leg over and settled right on top of Alex’s hips, straddling him with sinful practiced ease. The lingerie stretched tight over Henry’s core and thighs, brushing Alex everywhere he was weakest, everywhere he was burning.
Alex sucked in a sharp breath.
Henry caught it instantly. He felt it. He thrived on it.
He leaned in so close that their breaths mingled, close enough that Alex caught the faint scent of rain still clinging to Henry’s hair.
“Look at you, my sweet, beautiful darling,” Henry murmured, thumb stroking Alex’s cheek, index finger landing right at his hammering pulse. “Your pulse is elevated, your pupils dilated. Already so ruined for me, aren’t you?”
Alex managed a weak nod that felt embarrassingly eager, utterly failing to hide how aroused he currently was.
Subtlety clearly vacated the building the minute Maraiah did.
“Mind you, darling…” Henry’s fingertip trailed down Alex’s jaw with agonizing precision. “This is just the cherry on top.”
Then, he slowly rolled his hips, silk pressing exactly where Alex needed pressure the most.
“It’s not even the real present I intend to give you tonight.”
If Alex’s pupils had been tapioca pearls before, now they were the size of black holes. He knew it, and Henry definitely noticed it.
His voice came out rough. “You show up to my office dressed like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself and stay sane?”
Henry’s lips curved into a smirk that was steeped in smugness and sin. “I expect you, darling Alexander, to just sit still while I give you your present.”
Then, Henry reached for Alex’s shirt.
Button by button, he undid it with maddening slowness. His dainty pianist fingers grazed every inch of exposed bronze skin, brushing across Alex’s pecs, sliding down his sternum, skimming the underside of his ribs, tracing the ridges of his abs, the narrow dip of his waist. Every bit of contact was a tease. A claim. A promise wrapped in silk and lace.
Alex’s head thudded back against the chair, an unfiltered groan slipping out of him.
“Baby, shit…please…I need…”
“Not just yet, darling.”
But Alex was not built to be passive, patient and submissive. Not like this. Not when Henry was sitting pretty in lingerie on his lap.
With the last remnants of his willpower, Alex grabbed Henry’s hip, fingers landing right over the waistband of the silky panties, and dragged him down hard against his own aching length.
Henry involuntarily gasped when their bodies ground together, Alex’s hardness pressing right against his silk-covered core.
Alex did it again, harder, slower and more intentional, and a moan tumbled out of Henry before he could stop it.
But even breathless and trembling, Henry refused to surrender.
He caught Alex’s wrists, fingers wrapping around them firmly—not to remove them, just to remind him exactly who was calling the shots tonight. He leaned down, lips finding the hollow notch of Alex’s throat, right where the pendants of his necklaces usually rest. His mouth was hot, wet and purposeful.
“Tsk, tsk,” Henry tutted, mouthing along Alex’s collarbone. “I told you, darling birthday boy, that tonight, you’re receiving presents, not giving them.” Another teasing kiss. “I’m the one in control tonight.” Another kiss. “If you try to be naughty…” His teeth grazed tender skin. “You won’t be getting any presents at all. Understand?”
Alex wanted to argue. He’s a lawyer, he was born and raised in debate and excelled at arguments. He wanted to haul Henry closer, flip him over his desk, rip off all the lace and silk, and make sure Henry couldn’t even think straight for the next 24 hours.
But then again, it was his birthday, so for today, he allowed Henry to take the reins.
Henry rewarded him instantly.
He eased Alex’s shirt fully open, spreading the white fabric aside, kissing downward with adoring slowness. His mouth traced every warm plane of Alex’s chest—pressing, lingering, worshipping. Each kiss felt like heat branding his skin. Alex moaned helplessly, fingers twitching at his sides, body arching into every touch like he’d been starved for weeks.
When Henry reached the final button at Alex’s waistband, he paused—eyes gleaming up at him—and then slid gracefully off Alex’s lap and onto his knees.
“Darling…” Henry began.
But Alex already knew. And nodded. Hard. “Yes, baby. Yes.”
Henry laughed softly. “Good boy. I didn’t even finish my question, yet here you are, already scoring the jackpot.”
“It’s obvious.” Alex didn’t even bother trying to hide the ache in his voice, or the bulge straining against his pants. “Just take me.”
With practiced ease, he reached for Alex’s belt.
The metal clicked, the leather loosened, and Alex’s heartbeat went erratic in anticipation.
Henry looked up at him then—blue meeting brown, both blown wide and drowning in want and hunger.
“Let’s see how much you missed me,” Henry whispered.
And then, slowly, he unbuckled Alex’s belt, popped open the button and lowered the zipper.
Alex lifted his hips without being asked, and Henry tugged both pants and boxers down in one smooth motion.
Cool air hit him straight in the core. Alex’s breath left him in a harsh exhale.
Henry’s smile turned feral.
His eyes went dark the moment he saw just how desperately Alex needed him. Alex’s cock stood long and thick, flushed red at the tip, glistening with pre-cum like it was begging for Henry’s mouth.
“Ohh,” Henry’s tongue swept slowly across his lower lip, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallowed the ocean-blue of his irises. “Look at you, my love. Wet and hard and absolutely gorgeous.”
Without warning, he dipped down and gave the tip the softest, most diabolical kitten lick.
“Fuck…” Alex choked out, spine arching clean off the chair as pleasure shot through him. His fingers dove straight into Henry’s hair just as Henry wrapped his mouth around him, taking him in deep and slow, sucking him with sinful precision like he’s starving and savoring every inch.
Henry worked him slowly at first, every glide of tongue a tease, every hollow of his cheeks a wicked promise, every stroke a slow-drip torment. It was maddening yet measured just right to undo him piece by piece.
“Fuck, shit…” Alex’s groans echoed throughout the room, breath fraying as he tugged lightly at Henry’s hair, trying without shame to coax a faster pace.
Henry let him guide for a few seconds, long enough to be generous, before he hummed, lips vibrating around Alex’s girth. Then he pulled off with a wet, obscene pop and rose smoothly to his feet.
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.
He simply reached down, took Alex by the wrist, and murmured, “Come with me.”
Still bare from the waist down and dizzy with want, Alex stumbled after him.
Henry dragged him toward the couch and pushed him down onto it with a confidence that stole the breath from Alex’s lungs.
The trench coat is long gone. What remained was Henry—milky-white skin wrapped in dark lace, pink silk, and pure temptation. The lingerie clung to every curve, every line, every inch of him, and the damp patch between his thighs was unmistakable.
“Baby, fuck…” Alex rasped, chest heaving. “Look at you. God, baby, you’re so fucking beautiful. So sexy I can…fucking shit…I can’t think or speak straight. You should…God, you should wear that for me all the time.”
A flush lit Henry’s cheeks, but his smile was slow, molten, wicked.
“They’re for your eyes only, my love.” he purred. “An exclusive view just for you.”
Alex groaned—an involuntary, carnal sound ripped straight from his chest. Henry’s lashes dipped in smug, knowing satisfaction.
“Do you want a taste of me?” Henry asked, voice rich and honey-warm.
“Yes,” Alex breathed instantly. No hesitation. Just pure, aching need. “I need a taste, baby. Please.”
Henry parted his thighs a little wider.
The wet patch on the pale pink silk glistened under the low light—filthy, inviting and scandalously irresistible.
Alex’s breath fractured at the sight.
His shirt was gone a second later, thrown aside like the fabric pricked him everywhere. Entirely bare from head to toe and trembling with anticipation, hunger and lust, he crawled forward on his knees—devotion in motion made flesh—until his mouth pressed right against Henry’s core.
His nose, his lips, his entire face sank into the drenched silk, and he nuzzled and inhaled softly to let the scent of Henry flood his senses. Then he dragged his tongue slowly across the soaked silk—savoring—and the taste, mmm, Henry’s taste seeped onto his tongue through the thin fabric.
Alex moaned at the goodness. Loud, wrecked, and shameless.
Above him, Henry shuddered, fingers sinking into Alex’s curls, tugging him closer, deeper, needier.
Alex greedily mouthed at the soaked patch, sucking at it, tongue circling over the swollen heat beneath until Henry’s hips jerked forward in a broken thrust.
“I want more,” Alex whispered into the silk, voice shaking with need. “I need more, baby. Let me have you…give me…”
Henry’s answering hum was sinful, a delightful sound that promised nothing but ruin.
“My birthday boy,” he crooned, “shall get his present.”
He tugged Alex’s curls sharply, not enough to hurt, just enough to make Alex’s breath catch, and pulled him back an inch, maybe two. Just enough room for Henry to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the ruined silk.
His movements were slow, sinful in their precision, as he eased the panties down his thighs. The soaked fabric clung to him, dragged over sensitive skin, peeled away only inch by torturous inch. The garter straps stayed perfectly in place, the sheer black thigh-highs framing his legs like a scandalous and seductive invitation.
Alex’s mouth flooded at the sight.
The second Henry’s hips were truly bare, Alex didn’t even try to restrain himself.
He surged forward like a man starved, all need and hunger, mouth landing on Henry with a desperate and needy sort of reverence. His lips moved first, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could reach. Then his tongue followed, tracing, tasting, worshipping as if Henry himself were the gift he’d been waiting all day to unwrap. And when the restraint finally snapped, Alex greedily took him fully into his mouth, like he couldn’t bear another second without him.
“Mmmhhmm.” The sound vibrated through Henry, straight to his spine.
Henry’s responding gasp followed immediately—ragged and breathless—as he scrambled for Alex’s hair. His fingers trembled as they tangled in the dark strands in an attempt to guide the pace. His thighs quivered, struggling to remain steady.
“Alex, my love…fuck…” Henry choked out, the words splintering as Alex’s tongue spiraled around him.
Alex’s hand slid up at the same time, palm spreading against Henry’s chest. The lace of the corset did absolutely fucking nothing to sull the heat of his touch. His fingers brushed over the tight peak of Henry’s nipple through the delicate fabric, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.
Henry’s whole body folded forward, a broken whimper spilling from him.
Alex pulled off with a wet, filthy pop. His lips were slick and swollen, chest rising and falling as if he’d run an entire marathon. His pupils were blown so wide his brown irises were nearly swallowed whole.
“Baby,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. “I want more. I need you.”
Henry’s answering smile was slow and sinful, like he was about to ruin him on purpose.
“Since it’s your birthday, my love,” Henry whispered. He lowered himself just enough to press a kiss to Alex’s mouth—soft, deep and laced with promise, “let me give you the best birthday sex you’ve ever had.”
Henry rose gracefully to his feet after that, intentional and unhurried. One by one, he peeled off the boots and set them aside. When he was done, the only things left on him were the lace corset hugging his torso, the garters, and the dark thigh-high socks clinging to his legs.
Then he knelt again and looked straight into Alex’s dark eyes, pupils completely dilated and blown wide with desire.
“Are you ready, my love?” Henry crooned softly.
“Mhhhmm,” was all Alex managed, the sound barely more than a needy hum.
Usually, Henry was the one beneath him, soft and pliant and adored in whatever position. But tonight was different. Tonight was Alex’s birthday. Tonight, Henry wanted to give his beloved boyfriend everything.
So he allowed himself to be the one on top.
“Promise to make it unforgettable for me, baby?” Alex whispered, voice thick with anticipation.
Henry lifted his hands and gently cupped Alex’s face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks with startling tenderness. “I promise with the entirety of my heart,” A tiny smile tipped the corners of his lips. “It’s us until the end of all our birthdays, my love.”
Alex’s lips parted in a tentative invitation, and Henry had no other choice but to lean forward and capture Alex’s mouth in a deep, almost desperate kiss that made Alex’s toes curl. Alex melted beneath him instantly, body going soft as he soaked in the warmth and taste of the man he loved more than anything in the world.
“Fuck, I love you so much, Henry,” Alex breathed out the moment they pulled apart, chest trembling with the force of it, his heart feeling so full that it could burst any minute.
“I love you too, darling,” Henry said with a soft yet mischievous gaze as he sank back down to his knees. “Now hush and let me give you your present.”
A small flame of curiosity and arousal kindled in the pit of Alex’s belly. “What the fuck…”
The rest of the sentence never made it out because Henry immediately lifted Alex’s legs over his shoulders and settled them there with intentional care before lowering his head.
Before Alex could react further, Henry’s tongue ran over Alex’s sensitive hole.
Alex’s entire body jolted.
Holy shit!
Alex’s hand shot out and tangled firmly in Henry’s hair as the blonde continued to suck and lick with relentless devotion. The pressure, the heat, the rhythm—it built and built until Alex’s orgasm crashed through him all at once, sudden and overwhelming, like a tidal wave breaking against the shore.
A broken sound tore from his throat as pleasure flooded every nerve in his body.
Sadly, Henry didn’t give him a moment to recover.
The instant Alex began to sag from the intensity, Henry dove back in, mouth and tongue working him over again with renewed vigor. The overstimulation shattered whatever composure Alex had left, leaving him gasping and shaking, his body turning loose and boneless beneath the assault.
If the couch hadn’t been behind him and if Henry’s hands weren’t gripping him so firmly, Alex would’ve melted.
“Hen, stop eating me…get inside me…I want…”Alex’s words dissolved into helpless sighs when Henry finally lifted his head. Instead of answering immediately, he leaned forward and pressed soft, lingering kisses along Alex’s neck, teeth grazing gently against the sensitive skin while one hand continued to stoke the slit of his cock in slow, teasing motions.
“Do you want me inside you, darling?” Henry murmured against his throat.
A desperate shudder rolled through Alex. “Yes.”
“Hmmm,” Henry hummed thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth lifting at the sheer urgency in Alex’s voice. Slowly, he slid a finger inside him while his thumb stayed where it had been, maintaining that slow, maddening rhythm.
Alex’s frustrated groan melted almost instantly into a string of helpless moans as he arched into Henry’s hand. Henry exhaled softly, clearly pleased with the reaction, before trailing kisses down Alex’s chest. He moved lower and lower, lips brushing over heated skin until he reached Alex’s stomach.
The moment Henry spread him open again and returned with his tongue, Alex’s moan broke into a full cry.
Slow strokes. Gentle sucking. Devoted licks.
Henry moved like a man performing some form of sacred ritual, as though worshipping Alex might somehow absolve him of every sin he’d committed across multiple lifetimes.
“Henry…I’m going to…” Alex’s soft whimper flew straight to the bullseye of Henry’s heart. “Get the fuck inside me! Please!” Alex begged, voice wrecked and trembling. “I want to fucking come when your pretty royal cock is inside me.”
“Demanding, are we?” Henry crooned. But the teasing barely hid the effect Alex was having on him. His own erection had grown impossible to ignore, every second he spent not being inside Alex making it worse.
He originally intended to draw things out a little longer. Unfortunately, Alex’s pleading made that plan nearly impossible to execute.
Besides, it’s Alex’s birthday, so who was Henry to deny him of such pleasure?
With a quiet sigh that sounded suspiciously like surrender, Henry lifted his head and rose until they were face-to-face again.
“I won’t make it too hard on you, darling,” He murmured, brushing a stray curl away from Alex’s flushed face. “I’ll just grab a condom, alright?”
Alex nodded eagerly. Moments later, Henry returned, rolling the condom on before guiding himself forward. He pushed his way inside, slow and carefully, until he was seated fully inside Alex.
The sensation hit them both at once. Alex felt so fucking fantastic—tight and wet and welcoming and perfect. Like they had been built to fit together no matter which way their bodies met.
Henry sucked in a sharp breath. Even beneath the lace corset, bullets of sweat were already gathering along his skin as he struggled to hold back his own orgasm. When Alex’s walls tightened around him, Henry hissed out a low, warning growl.
“Sorry, baby,” Alex panted between breaths. “Not really used to bottoming, so…can’t really help it.”
“You take me so beautifully, my love,” Henry eased out slightly before sliding back in with a slow, smooth motion. Alex squirmed at first, but gradually, his body adjusted and relaxed around Henry’s length. “That’s it, darling. Just relax and take me. You’re doing well.”
Alex blushed at the compliment. “Henry…”
“You’re truly made for me, my love. Every part of you is made for me.” Henry’s own breaths harshened as he increased the pace.
The sensual rhythm between them grew deeper. It was a complete turn from when Alex was the one fucking him and taking control, but somehow, the difference made it even hotter.
Henry didn’t top often, and because of that he savored every movement of his cock into Alex. Every slick glide. Every quiet whimper and broken moan Alex gave him in response as he followed through on his promise to make this birthday unforgettable.
“Be as loud as you want, darling. Don’t hold back.” Henry commanded when Alex tried to muffle his screams by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.
Henry knew Alex all too well. He could feel the tension building in Alex’s body, could sense the fact that Alex was seconds away from coming. “I want to hear you scream.” Henry murmured right at Alex’s ear, making the other man moan and shiver. “Scream for me, darling. Come for me.”
His hand slipped down between them, wrapping around Alex’s length and rubbing his slit with just enough pressure to tip Alex over the edge while he picked up the pace.
That was all it took.
A cry of pure pleasure ripped out from Alex’s throat as his back arched, his entire body shaking as his release tore through him. Henry groaned deeply at the sensation of Alex tightening and pulsing around his length.
God, the sight alone nearly undid him. Alex looked completely wrecked—all undone and flushed and trembling while being breathtakingly beautiful in the aftermath of his climax—and Henry couldn’t imagine ever looking away from him, even if his damn life depended on it.
“That’s it, my love,” Henry brushed his thumb across Alex’s cheek before leaning down to kiss him, soft and lingering. “My birthday boy,” he whispered against his lips. “I love hearing you scream for me.”
Alex’s small, helpless whimpers shot straight to Henry’s cock, and it didn’t take more than a couple of moments before Henry buried his face in Alex’s shoulder and finished with a deep groan inside the condom, his body finally giving in to the pleasure he’d been holding back.
Alex’s heartbeat was still trying—and failing—to revert back to its normal rhythm when he felt Henry ease out of him and collapse softly onto his chest. Boneless, trembling, warm breath ghosting over Alex’s collarbone. The office was quiet now, their gasps and moans fading into a hazy afterglow, leaving only the muffled hum of the world outside the window, far away from the bubble they’ve carved on Alex’s office couch.
Henry’s corset top was still on him, black lace hugging his torso, though the back ribbon hung loose—half-unlaced, damp with sweat and clinging to his flushed skin. He looked devastatingly beautiful from the moment he walked in, but now? With kiss-swollen lips, heavy lashes, and a body relaxing fully against Alex? He was a special kind of stunning.
Alex wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. His thumb traced lazy circles down Henry’s spine, soothing through the lace. Henry melted into it with a soft, satiated little hum.
“My love,” Henry murmured. “You okay? You happy?”
Alex pressed a soft kiss to Henry’s hair. “M’perfect. Best birthday sex ever,” he whispered. “You?”
“Couldn’t be better. I love being your present.” Henry answered honestly, that affection-thick tone wrapping around Alex like silk. He tilted his chin up and kissed him—gentle, tender, an entirely different kind of intimate than anything leading up to this moment.
They stayed like that for a while. Limbs all tangled, slow breaths in sync, their bodies cooling and settling back into its normal rhythm but refusing to drift apart. At some point, Henry’s fingers started to trace lazy patterns on Alex’s ribs, as if he was sketching something only he could see.
Eventually, Henry exhaled a long, bliss-doped sigh and pushed himself half-upright, swaying slightly. “I should…probably get these back on,” he said, lifting the discarded panties from the floor with a wry smile.
Alex watched, mesmerized, as Henry stepped back into the wet silk and carefully pulled them back into place alongside the garters and socks. The corset top remained loose around him, ribbon dangling like an unfinished love story. He looked undone. Angelic. Loved.
“You look so ridiculously pretty.” Alex murmured.
Henry’s blush bloomed instantly, and he ducked his head with a shy little smile. “You’re biased.”
“Oh, I absolutely am.”
Alex dragged his own boxers and pants back on, fumbling like a newborn deer because every muscle in him felt boneless. Henry laughed at him, and he grinned like he’d won the lottery.
When Alex finally attempted to button his shirt and immediately messed up the alignment, Henry giggled even harder.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m fragile,” Alex muttered weakly.
Henry leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re cute.” he teased.
Once they were both dressed again—Henry back in his trench coat and boots—they sank onto the couch one last time, bodies pressed close, legs tangled lazily. The comfort settled around them like a weighted blanket neither wanted to fit.
After a beat of silence, Henry nudged him. “Darling, you do realize how lucky we are that no one’s around here at this hour, yes?”
Alex snorted and tipped his head back. “God, yes. Imagine if Maraiah or any of my paralegals heard even half of that…”
“They would probably never let you live it down,” Henry finished beautifully.
“Never,” Alex agreed. They both laughed again, tired and happy and blissfully unconcerned with anything that existed beyond the room. “At least they’d know I got the best birthday present ever.”
“And that’s?”
Alex didn’t hesitate. “My gorgeous, slutty, sexy boyfriend all wrapped up in lace and silk,” he crooned. “Who also gave me absolutely filthy, hot and incredible birthday sex.”
Henry’s eyes darkened just slightly. “Say it again.”
Alex smirked as he knew the emphasis Henry wanted. “My gorgeous and slutty boyfriend. The sexiest love of my life. And my favorite present.”
Henry practically melted as he curled into Alex’s side, resting his head over Alex’s heart. “Happy birthday, my darling love. I love you.”
“Thank you, baby. I love you too.” Alex kissed the top of his hair, breathing him in.
When the clock struck midnight, signaling the end of his 30th birthday, Alex felt nothing but happiness and overwhelming contentment. The first day of his thirties had been spent tangled in Henry’s arms, ruined and cherished in the best possible way.
He didn’t get any more work done that night. But the paperwork, the legal briefs and the whole damn world could wait for now.
Because tonight, the only place he wanted to be was with Henry.