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“God, you really love this, don’t you?”
Alex’s hips slow as he speaks, attentive to the way Henry arches in protest and the furrow of his eyebrows. His fingers dig the slightest bit harder into Alex’s back even though Alex hadn’t planned on stopping. He just needed to slow down enough to really take all this in.
The pale column of Henry’s throat is long and taut from how far back his head is pressed into the pillow, the skin pearlescent with the shine of his sweat. And Alex has tasted that sweat, knows how warm and salty it would be if he were to lean down, run his tongue along the jumping muscles there. But then he’d miss the way Henry’s teeth occasionally scrape over his bottom lip when he’s trying to reign in his moans, when he feels that he’s being a little too loud, a little too out of control. Not only that, but Alex would subsequently miss the way the blood would rush right back into that plump mouth when he coaxes it out from its prison with his thumb. He’d miss Henry’s damp hair curling up around his temples, and his eyelashes fluttering when Alex rolls his hips just right, and the deep movements of his chest as he tries to catch his breath.
So he stays propped on his arms and asks, “God, you really love this, don’t you?” in slight disbelief of the sight underneath him.
“What?” Henry asks. He’s breathless and probably two seconds away from flipping them over to finish what Alex clearly cannot.
How can anyone blame him, though, when he’s got the sexiest, most gorgeous man under him, moving his hips back onto Alex’s cock like he’ll die without it? Sometimes, Alex doesn’t feel like he takes enough time to really admire Henry in the midst of sex, let alone tell Henry how fucking pretty he is. They’re usually a little preoccupied.
But, God, Henry’s pretty . Alex makes fun of him for being white as paper just about every day, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything when Henry flushes as pretty as a sunset like this. He’s sparkling with sweat, which is such a ridiculous sentiment even though it’s true, but he looks fucking shimmery . He looks expensive and intimidating; only Alex knows how soft he is, how freely Henry gives himself away when he’s safe. Alex must have been the most charitable person in a past life to be so blessed, being allowed to see Henry like this almost on the daily.
To answer Henry’s question, though: “Getting fucked.”
It sounds crude even to his own ears. Normally, Alex doesn’t mind being crude. Normally, he loves saying the most obnoxiously filthy things he can think of just to watch Henry fluster and sputter in response. But he’s feeling vulnerable tonight, like maybe that’s not something he should’ve said, like that’s not an observation he should’ve made.
Henry, though, doesn’t fluster or sputter this time. Instead, he breathes, “Yes. I love having you inside me.”
“Oh, fuck .”
“I can feel you in my fucking lungs , darling,” Henry says, moving his hands up to tangle his fingers in Alex’s hair.
It takes Alex by surprise, the filthy words coming from Henry’s mouth, his fancy accent curling around words that hit Alex right in the gut. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, sitting back on his knees so he can hook his arms under Henry’s thighs, hiking them up so he can drive into Henry at a better angle.
The effect is instantaneous. The fingers in his hair tighten, tugging at the roots as Henry arches further into him. Some people that Alex has been with get louder the closer they get to coming, but not Henry. Henry gets quieter, breatheir, gasping in air rather than moaning on every exhale.
“So fucking pretty, baby,” Alex says. His curls are practically dripping from exertion, and he keeps having to flick them out of his eyes so he doesn’t miss a single second of Henry unraveling.
He keeps chanting Alex’s name, like he doesn’t know any other word despite an entire degree in the English language. It’s a point of pride for Alex, the mess he can reduce Henry to.
When Henry comes, it’s with a breathless little laugh that he still doesn’t quite believe he does, despite the number of times Alex has pointed it out to him. His eyes flutter back and his legs tighten around Alex’s waist, the pressure of which tends to bring Alex right along with him. Finally, Alex leans down to get a taste of Henry’s lips for himself, breathing him in as they shudder through the aftershocks, waiting for Henry to open his eyes again.
When he does, Alex smiles down at him, a hand cupped around Henry’s cheek. “You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”
Henry hums as he wraps his arms fully around Alex’s neck. “You can tell me all about it while you run me a bath.”
Yeah. Alex can do that.