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"Who the fuck said English professors could look like that ? He looks like he's walked off a goddamn porno."
"I know, babe." Nora's voice drifts over from where she's flopped into Alex's office chair. "When I tell June we're going to be late, should I say it's because you've been too busy drooling over faculty?"
"I'm not the only one drooling." He's seen students sneaking photos of him, and overheard snippets of their conversations that were so obscene they could almost make even him blush.
"You're the only one watching him from your office window when you're already late for dinner."
Touché . But is it really his fault when Professor Fox is there looking like he's fallen out of some fairy tale story book with a handsome prince? The blond locks, those blue eyes which frankly he would have believed were edited if he hadn't seen them in real life, that fucking British accent that he'd caught a snippet of as he'd passed by the open door of one of his seminars.
He was insistent when recounting this to Nora later that he was not snooping on the newbie because adults don't snoop. It was professional curiosity and nothing more.
But professional curiosity must give way to dinner plans as Nora finally decides she's had enough of waiting for him, jacket pressed into his hand and her arm looping through his to drag him away.
An entire week passes before Alex actually has the chance for an introduction, and entirely by chance.
Okay, well, maybe there's some intent but the circumstances leading up to the moment are largely coincidental.
He has a tendency to work late if there's no one to pull him away from his desk. More often than not, Nora is said designated person but she's out with June doing — something. He'd already lost that bit of information in the chaos of his mind.
Most of the campus shut down hours ago. There's a handful of offices like his own with lights still on and he's sure every table in the library would still be taken if he decided to wander in that direction. A few more hours and students will start to trickle back onto campus, not for lectures, but for the start of the weekly student night.
It's quiet.
Until it isn't. There's a clattering, followed by the sound of something smashing and finally a flurry of swearing. Then silence again.
The foul language had sounded profoundly British.
His gaze flicks to the clock on the wall as he vacates his desk, watching the hands tick over past 22:14.
He finds Professor Fox on one knee, diligently picking shards of ceramic from the floor and placing them in the cupped palm of his hand.
"Not the most romantic proposal but we can jazz it up when friends and family ask how it happened."
Christ . It feels like the air has been sucked from his lungs when those blue eyes dart up to meet his own.
"Er—" Who knew a sound like that could be made so sexy? "Sorry. I hope this wasn't your mug that I smashed."
Alex peers a little closer at the remnants in his hand, shoulders lifting in a shrug before he shifts to lean against the door frame.
"Not mine. Hide the evidence and your secret is safe with me."
"Marital privilege?" At Alex's bemused look, he elaborates, "I assume you'll say yes to my proposal if you're mentioning telling friends and family."
Oh? His lips curve upwards into a grin as he watches Henry stand from the floor, tipping the pieces of the broken mug into the bin and offering a hand out.
He notices a few things in quick succession as he shakes his hand, new bullet points on the list of things he knows about Professor Fox.
- His hands are soft
- His hands feel small in Alex's
- Like surprisingly small for a man of similar height to him and not exactly slight build
He doesn't know what to do with any of that information except to file it away and come back to it later.
"Henry. I've just joined the English department."
And now he has a first name to add to his little mental database. Working late pays off.
"Alex, political science. Surely you can't already have a pile of papers for marking keeping you here late?"
Henry gives a wry chuckle and all it does is make Alex want to hear what a real laugh would sound like coming from those lips.
"No, but there's still a lot to get my head around. I'd rather spend some time here late to figure everything out than mess it all up just a week in."
"Well, if you ever need any help figuring things out, my office is just back down there to the left. Happy to answer any questions."
Happy to listen to his dulcet tones too, no matter how mundane the conversation. Alex would sit and go through the entire staff handbook word by word with him if it meant he could admire those full lips and beautiful blue eyes. It's a horrible cliché but he really could get lost in them.
"I'll keep it in mind." He watches Henry's gaze dip to his watch, and it would have been a remarkably subtle gesture if it weren't for the way Alex is watching him like a hawk. There's no impression that the intent behind it is rude or because of boredom. "Maybe ten pm is late enough for today though. It's lovely to meet you, Alex."
Even the way he says his name has the hairs on the back of his hand standing on end.
"Sure, yeah, it was nice meeting you too."
Henry claps a hand against Alex's bicep, fingers squeezing lightly against the muscle before he moves past him, leaving Alex standing there with a strong desire to have those hands squeezing at other parts of his body and a distinct lack of reasonable, well-measured thoughts that might tell him why that would be such a bad idea.
He doesn't sleep much that night. He goes home less than half an hour after his meeting with the fairy tale prince that is Henry Fox, but he knows he won't be able to sleep. His mind is racing. Too fast, too chaotic and impossible to settle.
Instead, he sits on his bed with a coffee and his laptop, trawling the internet to find everything he can on Henry Fox. His social media accounts are private, leaving Alex only able to squint at a profile picture. Is he holding a dog? He abandons the Instagram account quickly.
He does find a LinkedIn account. Undergraduate and masters at Oxford. PhD at Columbia. There are some videos linked of his talks as well and he watches them all, scribbling down every single book and author Henry ends up mentioning. He limits himself to buying two, for now. He has to try and contain this spiral of insanity somehow.
Even once he’s found all he can amongst the depths of the internet, he can’t sleep. He orders takeaway for a late-night dinner, he showers, he brushes his teeth, he falls back into bed and all throughout it, Henry flashes through his mind. He wonders how soft those blond locks would be to touch. He thinks about that mole just by his lips, and how he’d press a kiss there if the opportunity presented itself. He thinks about those lips even more. He thinks about some downright sinful things when it comes to those lips.
He comes over his hand that night with the thought of Henry’s hands on his cock.
A dog comes into his office almost two weeks later.
It succeeds in distracting Alex from amending his lecture notes and instead crouch down to reach out a hand and gently stroke fingertips over the beagle’s head.
“Where did you wander in from?” His hand smooths over the dog’s back, giving little scratches with his nails. A grin splits his lips when the tail starts to wag more furiously. “Oh, you like that? Yeah? You’re a good–”
“David!” He thinks he’d recognise that voice anywhere at this point. His chin lifts to look up at Henry who has appeared out of nowhere in a very similar way the dog had, raising a brow slightly. Who the fuck is David?
“Alex, remember? Am I that forgettable that you–”
Henry cuts him off again with an impatient sound.
“The dog is called David. I know you’re Alex. I must have left my door open, and he got out while I was making tea.”
“Your dog is called David?” Does he know that’s a name for a fully grown adult? There are two things that should never be called David; new-born babies and dogs.
“You could try to keep the judgement from your tone. If you must know, he’s named after Bowie.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips, amusement clear on features. He likes that this Henry bites back. It’s fun.
“Bowie is much cooler than David.”
Henry’s nose scrunches and Alex wants to kiss it. 6ft something men are so rarely described as adorable but that was adorable. And somehow sexy all at once. Henry Fox is a man containing multitudes and Alex wants to fuck all those multitudes.
“Bit on the nose, isn’t it?”
“Well, David,” His gaze drops now to the beagle, “I can only apologise that you must suffer the fate of an un-cool parent.”
Henry makes another sound, indignant this time. Alex wonders what other sounds he could elicit from him if just given five minutes in a room alone. In his imagination, they’re the sexiest sounds on the planet.
“I didn’t know you could bring a dog in.” He comments as he rises from his crouched position, watching David the beagle pad away from him to instead investigate the rest of his office and sniff around his things.
“The handbook didn’t say you couldn’t bring your dog in. I don’t like leaving him all day and I thought it would be easier to ask forgiveness later than ask for permission now.”
“Un-cool but smart. David hasn’t lost the parent lottery entirely then.”
“Thank you for that generous assessment of my pet parenting, Alexander.” Good god, Alex is going to die if he calls him Alexander again. Die or pop a boner right here. “Anyway, I’m sorry for interrupting you. We’ll let you get back to your work. Come on, David.”
Alex starts speaking before his brain catches up to what he’s saying. It’s not a rare occurrence, it’s just simply riskier when there’s an insanely beautiful man who looks like he’s walked straight out a painting in a museum involved.
“I’m going for drinks with some others in the faculty tonight. If you’re free, you’re welcome to come, bring a friend or something.”
“Oh, er– That’s kind of you to offer.” For one awful, horrible moment, Alex thinks he’s going to say no. “What time?”
He was stupid to doubt his charming personality and good looks. Why would Henry say no?
“Why don’t I get your number? I can text you the details.”
Once Henry does leave his office, he doesn’t return to his work, instead heading straight online to buy some of the best dog treats he can get his hands on. David deserves something good after giving Alex the chance to get Henry’s number in his phone.
Then he texts Nora and June telling them they’re going out tonight and he’s bringing someone along. Nora reads him to filth and predicts a ‘99% chance said person is the new hot English professor that Alex can’t stop sighing over like he’s some lovesick heroine from the 1800s’ when June asks who he’s bringing. Alex mutes them both.
He claims a booth with June and Nora, making them swap places with him until he’s able to watch the entrance to the bar. He pointedly ignores the look they share between themselves.
He’s two whiskeys deep by the time his gaze snags on a tall blond entering, closely followed by a man with bright yellow hair who Alex doesn’t recognise, chattering away at Henry’s side. He did bring a friend then. That’s fine. Alex totally doesn’t feel anything weird when they pause by the bar and this friend of his is all touchy-feely and personal space doesn’t exist between them and–
Oh god. What if Henry’s brought a boyfriend with him?
He’d only begrudge Henry’s happiness slightly, of course, but what about his own happiness? And more so, what about his own horniness? He can’t be lusting over a taken man, he has standards.
Well, fine, he’s probably lusted over taken men and women before but not like this. Not when he’d actively been planning to find a way to drag them to his bed.
He’s entirely stopped listening to Nora and June, focus narrowed down to the singular point of Henry Fox. The pair order their drinks and Alex watches as Henry leans against the bar, watches the way his waist curves and Alex wants to know what it would feel like beneath his hands. He watches and waits until their drinks arrive, and Henry turns to cast his gaze over the room. Alex half stands from his seat, waves a hand in their direction and takes great satisfaction in the way that Henry’s lips tug up into a smile when their gazes catch.
“Sorry we’re a bit late. Pez here was having a veritable wardrobe disaster. Apparently.”
“You aren’t supposed to say that, Hazza darling.” Pez scolds as he slides into the booth beside June, leaving Henry with the space beside Alex. “You’re supposed to graciously apologise and leave it at that.”
“ Anyway. ” Henry’s gaze draws away from Pez, sliding over June and Nora in turn before finally landing on Alex. He takes great satisfaction in noting the way his attention drops to where the top few buttons of his shirt are left open. Look as much as you want, Henry Fox.
“Uh, Henry, this is Nora. She works in AI and data science at the university,” Alex introduces, “And this is June, my sister.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Henry’s smile is warm and genuine, and Alex wishes it was directed at him right now instead. “Are you at the university too, June?”
June laughs in answer, before explaining that she’s currently writing a book after securing a new book deal. Henry asks the two girls a few more questions that might just be polite conversation but to his credit, he doesn’t seem like he’s asking out of obligation.
“So,” Alex doesn’t expect to hear Henry’s voice right by his ear, his hot breath crashing against his skin and sending sparks of lightning down his spine. “When you said this was a few drinks with faculty, what you meant was this a few drinks with your friend and your sister?”
“Nora is faculty.” He watches Henry closely as he pulls back, a brow pointedly raised at Alex as he lifts his glass to take a drink. And then he does the filthiest fucking thing Alex could imagine right now and licks off the liquor that had dripped down the side of the glass onto his thumb. His mouth goes dry and it’s a goddamn miracle that he doesn’t get hard right then and there.
He said he belonged in one of those pornos with horrible plots about some professor and student. He swears he’s seen an exact replica of that moment in porn, except Henry makes it a million times sexier than any porn star ever could.
Maybe because it’s just so unexpected. It doesn’t match with his casual button-down shirt and chinos or his classically handsome features or his polite British accent.
Alex wants to put Henry's fingers in his mouth. He doesn’t care if there’s any liquor to lick off them or not.
“I think we both know Nora is a friend first and colleague second. If Pez started working at the same place as me, he would still be my best mate, not a coworker.”
Best mate. Not boyfriend. Alex can think about sucking on his fingers without even a tinge of guilt. He downs the rest of his drink, like whiskey has ever helped to stifle his thoughts. He’s dimly aware that there’s an entire conversation taking place on the other half of their table and he hasn’t listened to a single word of it but how is he supposed to focus on that when he can feel Henry’s thigh pressed lightly against his own.
The beauty of a booth not designed to hold five people. He’s never enjoyed being cramped into a slightly too-small space as much as this before.
“Another round?” He offers to the table, Henry shifting out of the way to let Alex out but before he can take his seat again, Alex’s fingers snag around his wrist. “Come and help me carry them?”
He could almost certainly carry five drinks back by himself but that’s beside the point. They insert themselves into the crowded bar area, Alex nudging people out of the way until he’s successfully carved him and Henry space by the bar.
“What are you drinking?” He knows June and Nora’s drinks of choice off by heart, and Pez called after them requesting a margarita.
“Vodka martini.” Henry’s head tilts down towards Alex again, closer to his ear so he can be heard over the music, “Please.”
“Dirty?” Alex’s chin tilts up, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. He’s close enough to Henry that he could almost bump their noses together if he really wanted to, or just as easily brush his lips over Henry’s mouth and that fucking mole. Close enough to see the way a flush spreads across his cheekbones. It’s pretty. He wants to see just how red he can make him by the end of the evening.
“I prefer them dirty, yes.” He answers after a slight pause, and he wonders if he had to take that moment to compose himself. He hopes so. He’s going to tell himself he managed to fluster Professor Fox. “Doesn’t everyone prefer it a little dirty from time to time?”
Oh . Maybe he didn’t fluster him as much as he thought.
“Only from time to time, Professor Fox? Personally, I think the filthier the better.”
Henry swallows and he follows the motion hungrily, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and Alex wonders what it would feel like under his lips.
“Are we still talking about martinis, Alex?”
“I don’t know. Were you talking about martinis when you said everyone prefers it dirty?” This time he knows he’s managed to fluster him. The colour on his cheeks deepens to a red and he fails in holding Alex’s gaze any longer.
“I think this is classed as inappropriate workplace relationships.”
“We’re not at work.” There it is again, that indignant noise that comes from the back of his throat. A protest that Alex likes to think of as an acknowledgment that he’s right and Henry simply doesn’t want to admit it. “There’s no code of conduct against flirting, Henry.”
The bartender comes then, halting whatever retort is on Henry’s lips. He orders their five drinks, adding a round of tequila shots at the end. It’s not rare for them to end up having shots when he’s drinking with Nora and June, but he’d be lying if he didn’t partly want to see Henry have to lick salt from his hand.
He vows to himself that next time he’ll get Henry licking the salt off his own hand instead.
“Alex, you do remember it’s a Thursday night? I have a 9am lecture tomorrow.”
“You’ll be in the same sorry state as half the students in the university then. Teaching hungover is a rite of passage. It’s only when you’re still drunk and have to teach that you should be concerned.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re speaking from experience.” Alex only winks, grabbing the small tray of shots and two of the glasses, leaving Henry to collect the three remaining.
Shots were the right choice. Never mind that watching Henry lick salt from the back of his hand is even hotter than Alex could’ve imagined, the tequila combined with the two martinis loosens him up in a way that is inherently sexy. His smile is easier, less tension held in his shoulders, and he gradually becomes little less put together and a little more dishevelled. The only downside is that Alex’s burning desire to do the most sinful of things to this man is growing hotter by the second, to the point where he would quite gladly blow him in a bathroom stall if the offer was presented to him.
Sadly, such an offer is not made but that’s probably best for everyone involved.
What he does discover about this version of Henry with alcohol flooding his veins is that he’s much more receptive to flirting. There’s no mention of inappropriate workplace relationships when Alex uses his thumb to wipe martini from Henry’s lower lip and licks it off. Instead, Henry stares at him like he’s having a religious experience and Alex is all too happy to facilitate his discovery of faith if that faith centres around himself.
More drinks are bought and there’s no more protests about a 9am lecture.
Henry’s hand ends up on Alex’s knee when he’s excitedly talking about Austen. It’s a casual gesture that almost sends Alex to an early grave but somehow, he manages to keep his focus on what he’s saying and ignore the burning of his skin under his touch.
Another round of shots.
Nora is half in June’s lap and Pez’s head is angled in towards the two girls. Alex knows June’s laugh is one that only comes out when she’s being flirted with and enjoying it. It’s more of a giggle. Only Nora really makes her giggle otherwise.
Henry is impossibly close to Alex now. Knees, thighs, hips all pressed against each other. An arm lying across the back of the seats behind Alex’s head so that he could lean his head back and let it rest against his bicep if he wanted. Or he could turn his head to the left and press a kiss to the jawline that he’s been admiring all evening whenever Henry’s been turned in profile to him.
They only leave because the bar is closing.
Ahead of him and Henry, Pez walks with Nora on one arm and June on the other, their voices carrying through the clear night air.
He turns his head to look up at him and he swears no one has ever looked so beautiful in the light of streetlamps. The orange light caresses high cheekbones, pale skin aglow with the flush of alcohol. He got too warm at one point and opened the top button of his shirt and Alex still hasn’t recovered fully from that.
He’s beautiful. Practically ethereal.
They part ways with the other three. June and Nora both live in the opposite direction to Alex and Henry and Pez gallantly offers to accompany them home.
Then it’s just the two of them.
“Alex.” The silence breaks but his attention has been solely on Henry already.
“Hm?”
“I, er–” A pause. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s slowing Henry’s thinking down or if he’s just trying to choose his words carefully. “I’m really not normally the sort who would.. dip my nib in the office ink, as Bridget Jones would put it.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. He can’t help it. He’s making fucking Bridget Jones references as he talks about sleeping with coworkers.
“I think that’s filthier than saying you don’t shit where you eat. Dip your nib? You can dip your nib–”
He’s silenced by Henry’s lips on his own. Those soft hands cupping his face, that tongue dragging over Alex’s lips and encouraging them to part open to tangle with his own, the taste of vodka and tequila mixing on his full lips and Alex is done for. He’s never going to recover from this kiss.
“You are a bloody devil.”
“Apparently you like that.” He realises he’s curled his fingers in the front of Henry’s shirt, gripping it as if he might vanish without Alex keeping him there. He uses his leverage to guide him back in for another kiss and this time he isn’t stunned into inaction but instead presses in close and kisses him as if he won’t survive without stealing the air right from Henry’s lungs.
And this time, when a sound drags from the back of his throat, Alex is right there to swallow it up into his mouth. Eagerly, desperately.
It’s a challenge to force himself to step back but he has to eventually. The challenge is only made harder by the way Henry chases his lips for a split second after they part.
“You need to get home.” Alex murmurs, catching his chin between his fingers and running his thumb over his lips.
“You can come with me.”
He laughs softly, brown eyes lifting to meet those striking blues, and he hates that he’s going to say what he’s about to, but it has to be said.
“You’re drunk. The only thing I want to do right now is come home with you and spend hours discovering all the ways to make you moan, baby.” He indulges in the way Henry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, the dilation of his pupils, the way he’s watching Alex like a hawk in return. “But I want to do it when we’re both sober and I know you’re not going to have any regrets.”
Henry exhales slowly, his warm breath against Alex’s hand. He looks like he wants to protest, and Alex understands, he really does. The only source of his will power comes from knowing how much better it will be when he can be sure that this isn’t just a poorly misjudged drunken choice.
“What we’re going to do is I’m going to finish walking you home. You are going to drink some water and put on an alarm for the morning and go to bed. Alright?”
“Alright.” He agrees after a momentary pause. “Alright but that bit about spending hours making me moan better be a promise.”
Alex laughs and swears that if Henry still wants to, he will keep to his word.
His own alarm wakes him too soon the next morning, but he somehow drags himself from the bed and into the shower.
He resists the urge to jerk off to the thought of Henry kissing him last night like he was ready to devour him whole. If things work out, he won’t have to use his imagination to help him finish later.
Henry’s morning lecture is almost finished by the time Alex makes it to campus. He stops to pick up two coffees before he sneaks himself into the back of the lecture hall, standing leaning against the back wall by the door.
He sees Henry’s gaze settle on him, faltering mid-sentence. He does manage to recover himself rather smoothly but not smoothly enough for Alex to have not noticed. Smirking to himself, he takes a sip from his takeaway cup and waits the five minutes before Henry dismisses the students and they begin to filter out.
“Figured you might need something to help the hangover.” He offers out the second coffee cup, accepted with a grateful smile by Henry.
“I think you owe me something like that after causing this dreadful hangover.”
“I caused nothing. You’re responsible for your own liquor intake, you didn’t have to let me buy you anything.”
“I distinctly remember telling you that I had an early lecture today.”
“And I distinctly remember you suggesting the second round of shots.” He spares a glance around, checking to see if any undergraduates were still milling around. Empty. When he turns his attention back, Henry has shifted to perch against the edge of the desk.
He looks good for a man who’s supposedly suffering such a dreadful hangover. Yes, there’s dark circles under his eyes and his hair is messier than it usually would be, but he’s wearing a nice sweater with a shirt under, smart trousers. He looks like a first year with a student-teacher kink’s wet dream.
“So,” Alex starts, taking a step closer to him again, invading his personal space until he’s all but toe to toe with Henry. “You kissed me.”
“An astute observation, Alexander. Do you educate your students in such skills?”
“You’re so annoying, it’s like you don’t want me to kiss you again.”
“Now I didn’t say that.” He nudges himself between Henry’s legs, coffee cup placed on the desk beside him, and Henry’s follows a moment later. Hands braces on either side of the blond, leaning in until he’s close enough to feel his breath against his skin.
“Say please.” His voice drops and he watches with great interest as his pupils dilate and lips part.
“You’re a menace.”
“That didn’t sound like a please to me, baby.”
“ Please .” He takes immense pleasure in the slight hoarseness that creeps into Henry’s voice, lingering in that moment for just a second longer before he crashes their lips together. One hand grabs at Henry’s slender waist whilst the other cups his jaw, thumb stroking over pale skin. Henry’s hands grasp at his hair in return, pulling on his curls in a way that makes Alex want to turn him around and wreck him right here and now.
Instead, he shoves his thigh between his legs, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and tugging slightly which earns him a low groan that rumbles through Henry’s chest and up his throat. His fingers dip below the hems of his sweater and shirt, finding warm, soft skin beneath and pressing fingers into flesh.
His thigh presses firmer against him, relishing in finding him half hard in his pants already.
The sound of the door at the back of the lecture hall opening has them springing apart, Henry practically shooting away from the edge of the desk to turn his back. Perhaps Alex should feel some sort of shame for getting him hard in what is arguably a public space, but he doesn’t. If anything, he wants to do so much worse.
“Sorry, Professor Fox, do you have a moment to talk about the assignment you set last week?” Alex stifles his grin, reaching to grab his coffee cup up from the desk and take a sip. “Are you busy?”
“He’s all yours, I was on my way out.” Henry gives him a look that might be murderous if it weren’t for the fact that Alex knows he’s responsible for the colour that’s high on his cheeks and the pink colour of his lips and the tightness in his trousers that he’s having to disguise by sitting down.
He sends Henry a text after he leaves telling him his office hours end at 1pm and that he should come by then.
The clock has never moved so slowly. He doesn’t even have any of his students turn up to distract him so all he’s got is the agonising torture of staring at the minute hand slowly, so slowly, tick round the clock.
1pm hits.
Five past.
Ten past.
It’s thirteen minutes past when his door opens, and Henry is there. Alex is out of his seat in an instant, a hand reaching to pull him into the room, the other reaching past to shut the door, only to shove Henry up against it and kiss him like a man starved.
This time Alex indulges himself in sliding a hand into his hair and it’s somehow even softer than it looks, and Henry’s fingers tighten against his waist and Christ, if he has to suffer another interruption and wait any longer, he may combust. He may combust anyway if the way Henry’s hands manage to set every part on him on fire is anything to go by.
He shoves that thigh between Henry’s legs again and is delighted to feel his hips rutting against him almost instantly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to HR to tell them about our inappropriate workplace relationship first, sweetheart?”
“Alex, I swear to god–” His voice is strained, a breathless note behind the words that has Alex grinning even wider as he dips his head to trail his lips along the length of Henry’s neck, kissing and biting down to his collarbone.
“I’ll take that as a no then?” He finds his pulse beneath his skin, feels it under his lips and bites. What a fucking sound Henry makes. He lowers a hand to the front of Henry’s pants, fingers deftly unfastening the button and zip so he can slip a hand down the front of his briefs and curl his fingers around his already leaking cock.
He sinks to his knees, thumb lazily teasing the slit before he leans in to lick a stripe up the length of him. He doesn’t take his gaze off Henry’s face for a moment, much too interested in seeing the micro expressions that flitter across his features.
The best part? Henry fucking whines .
The sound is burned into his memory the moment it escapes his lips, but he will do anything to hear it again and again and again. He lowers his head to take him into his mouth, slowly taking him further into his mouth until he feels him hitting the back of his throat.
Henry’s fingers tug harshly on his hair, which he takes as positive encouragement, bobbing his head slowly up and down his length. If Henry doesn’t come away from this considering this the best blowjob of his life, Alex will consider it a failure. He watches as pearly white teeth dig into his lower lip, a somewhat feeble attempt to muffle his moans, and his head falls back to rest against the door.
He doesn’t stop until Henry comes down his throat, a stuttering moan dragged from his throat and fingers relaxing their grip on his hair. He swallows every last drop of his release before releasing him from his mouth with a pop and surging back up to kiss Henry.
“Jesus Christ, Alex–” Henry’s head falls to rest against his shoulder, his hands settled back against his waist again. “Your fucking mouth.”
He considers that response a badge of honour.
Regrettably, he has no condoms or lube in his office. It tends not to be part of the standard office supplies, but maybe he’s going to have to start keeping some in one of his drawers. The thought of fucking Henry against his desk is particularly appealing.
For now, he takes him home. Neither of them having teaching time on a Friday afternoon and neither of them would be able to return to their work and focus now. Or at least that’s the excuse Alex will make to himself.
Behind the closed door of his bedroom, two pairs of hands fumble with hurriedly undressing each other. Shoes kicked off in whatever direction, pants and shirts and underwear discarded on the floor before Alex can shove Henry back onto his bed.
He slicks his fingers up with the lube from his bedside table, one pressing inside of him, swiftly followed by a second at Henry’s request. He doesn’t rush. He finds the best ways to crook his fingers inside of him to have him keening and moaning. He adds a third when Henry rocks back against his fingers, relishing the way he looks at him through half lidded eyes, lips parted with little moans and whimpers and Alex takes the opportunity to kiss every single mole on his body that he can find.
“Alex, fuck–” His voice is rough and uneven, and it delights Alex greatly to know that he’s the reason for making this man who’s so put together every day come to pieces. He’s nowhere near done yet though. “I need you to get one of those condoms and fuck me properly.”
Another day, he’ll make him wait until he’s wrecked.
Today, his own cock fucking throbs with the thought of fucking him. Despite doing exactly what Henry asks, he still whines at the absence of Alex’s fingers inside of him. He slips a condom on, lubing himself again, and sinks into Henry, their moans twining together in the air of the room.
Henry’s fingers curl in the bedsheets as he stretches around Alex, a flurry of curses spilling forth, which does wonders for Alex’s ego. He moves slowly until he’s sunk all the way into Henry, bracing himself with a hand on his hip, milky skin turning red with the press of his fingers in flesh.
His first thrusts are slow, steady, but he soon slides a hand under his thigh and lifts his leg to fuck deeper into him, his hips snapping at a pace. Henry’s got the most beautiful fucked out look on his face, and God, how is Alex meant to be anything other than smug when he seems to be incapable of forming a coherent sentence?
He leans down over him, biting at his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, finding his lips again to devour him as he fucks him. One hand slip between them to tease the head of his cock again, running over the slit, eliciting the dirtiest of sounds he could have imagined.
“You’re such a good boy, sweetheart, look at you.” He murmurs, his own voice low and rough. The heat that pools in the pit of his stomach grows with every passing moment, struggling to keep it at bay for much longer. “ Fuck , taking my cock so fucking well. You’re practically made for it.”
He feels his cock twitching in his hand, fucking into him harder, faster, timing his strokes with each thrust until Henry comes over his hand with a reedy sound, his back arching and fingers flexing against the bedsheets.
Alex doesn’t last any longer once he feels Henry clenching around him, a guttural moan vibrating through his chest as he spills into the condom. He falls forward to rest on top of Henry, forehead against his shoulder and only the sound of their heaving breathing filling the room.
It must only be a minute that passes but it could be hours before he comes back to reality, feeling a press of lips to his temple and Henry’s hands settling against his back, fingertips trailing up and down his spine.
“Fuck.” He whispers out, head lifting lazily to seek out Henry’s lips in a slow kiss. He pulls out slowly, reluctantly, and Henry whines against his lips. “Sorry, baby.”
He shifts from the bed, removing the condom and padding through to his ensuite to dispose of it and grab a fresh cloth to clean both of them up with. Henry pulls him back onto the bed then, bringing him into the circle of his arms and tangling their legs together.
They last a month before the rumour breaks amongst their students. June curses them both for going on a date so close to campus where a student was guaranteed to run into them because she lost her bet with Nora.
Alex is only surprised they didn’t get caught out before then. In that time they’d managed to fuck in both his and Henry’s office (multiple times), one of the lecture halls and a store cupboard. He decides not to tell her that though.