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The catch is, Henry didn’t see it coming.
In his defense, for a while there, after he confessed to Alex that he liked to be spanked—and Alex had fully accepted it as a normal part of Henry, even going so far as to ask why Henry had looked for someone else to spank him instead of going straight to Alex—Henry was hopeful.
He kept waiting for Alex to finally bend him over and smack his bottom. Maybe in the kitchen, when Henry forgot to throw out the trash even though it was his turn. Maybe over the dining table, when Henry pushed the food Alex had spent a long time cooking around his plate because stress took his appetite away. Maybe for absolutely no reason—just because Henry walked past Alex, and Alex had an open invitation to grab him and spank his ass whenever he wanted.
But Alex didn’t.
He came close sometimes, Henry sensed. In the way he raised his eyebrows for Henry to correct his behavior, or how he called Henry’s name a certain way. But because Alex never actually brought up the idea of spanking Henry again, after long enough time, Henry was convinced he must have misunderstood Alex’s kindness for something more.
Henry consoled himself with a made-up explanation in his head: that Alex came home that day, saw Henry looking absolutely miserable on the couch, and didn’t have it in his heart to crush Henry some more by outright being disgusted, “Dude, what kind of adult needs to be spanked on his butt to be able to function properly?”
That must be why Alex never mentioned it again.
And it was alright.
No, seriously—Henry was alright.
If the only version of Alex Henry could get was the version that turned a blind eye to Henry’s… hobby, Henry was okay with keeping his silence for the rest of his life.
And since Henry had already stopped expecting anything to happen, he didn’t even think twice when Alex walked out of his bedroom one night, his curls going in all different directions, and stated out of the blue, “Hen, it’s two thirty in the morning.”
“Yeah?” Henry said distractedly, barely glancing up from his laptop, his fingers still flying across the keyboard.
“Why are you still up? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Oh, I just need to finish this assignment for my class, you know, if this degree didn’t kill me first.” Henry rolled his eyes before looking over at Alex, who had walked closer to him with his arms crossed over his chest. All six feet something of him stood tall under the kitchen light, eyes glaring at Henry’s laptop before settling on Henry’s face.
“Go to sleep. If this paper isn’t due at midnight tonight, you don’t have to finish it now. And if it’s already past due, it doesn’t matter if you finish it right now or after getting at least a few hours of sleep.” The tone in Alex’s voice was final. There was no room in it for Henry to argue.
In Henry’s mind, the smarter part of his brain saw no reason to talk back. All he needed to do was hit the save button. Shut the screen. Say a quick good night to Alex.
The less smart, sleep-deprived part of him—the one that had been yearning, aching, missing Alex. Not even for any big reason, simply because their schedules hadn’t aligned enough for them to hang out just as roommates. That pissed-off part of Henry’s brain rolled off his tongue quicker than he could catch it back.
“And what if I don’t, Alex? Who are you to tell me what to do?”
For a second, everything went deadly still, just the ticking clock and the low rumble of the refrigerator.
Alex took a deep breath. He placed one hand on the kitchen table and leaned over, his body essentially creating a cage around Henry. His voice came out deep, warning. “Hen, do you want me to tell you what to do?”
Henry stole a quick glance up through his eyelashes. He knew he was treading dangerous waters, but Alex didn’t look mad or scary. If anything, he still looked like the grounding Alex that Henry so desperately reached for in the constant chaos. He just didn’t know how to ask, so he continue his spiral in the hope that Alex would catch him eventually.
“Please.” Henry whispered, his fingers reached out to grab on the hem of Alex’s shirt.
Without missing a beat, Alex held Henry’s elbow and guided him to stand. He pushed Henry’s hips back until he was bent forward over the table—but not lying on it. His chest hovered just above the surface, arms stretched out enough to keep his hands comfortably on the keyboard. It left just enough space between his hips and the edge of the table—exactly how Alex wanted him. When Henry was still confused about the position, the sharp smack on his bottom shocked him into gasping.
“Since you’re working so hard on your paper, how about you continue to write it out? We can stop when you decide you’re ready to go to sleep,” Alex demanded, landing another sharp smack to the center of Henry’s buttocks.
“What? Are you serious?” Henry choked. He could barely remember how to spell his own name, let alone type anything on the 12-point font document in front of him.
“Oh, very, baby,” Alex quipped, delivering another two quick smacks to Henry’s ass. “Whatever academic masterpiece you were working on that kept you up at two-thirty in the morning; you chose it over your sleep? Over me telling you to go to sleep? Well, start typing.”
With each sentence, Alex’s hand rained down on Henry’s ass. Each slap covered almost the entire cheek. He didn’t follow any pattern—his hand landed sharply on Henry’s right, then left, down the backs of his thighs, across the center of his bottom.
Henry choked on a sob, letting his weight collapse forward as his chest thunked against the table. “’lex, hurt.”
His ass involuntarily clenched under the pajama pants, even though the pain wasn’t even that bad. But Henry’s body was overtaken by a sudden wave of exhaustion. He didn’t want to work on this stupid essay anymore. His eyes were dry from staring at the screen for the past four hours, his backside throbbing from the rhythmic smacks. He wanted to be held. He wanted Alex to hold him. It didn’t even register in his tired brain that he might have just begged that out loud.
Alex didn’t stop right away. He delivered a few more sharp smacks to Henry’s poor butt before his hand landed the last one—and just stayed there.
Henry was still shaking with sobs, his shoulders rising and falling with every wet sniffle.
Alex slid his big hands under Henry’s shirt to both rub his back and help him stand up. He quickly wrapped Henry in a tight hug, letting him hide his face in the crook of Alex’s neck to cry to his heart’s content.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. My smart cookie needs to be held, huh?” Alex shushed. He gently rocked Henry in the middle of their kitchen, rubbing down to Henry’s bottom to take any leftover sting away.
It wasn’t that Alex didn’t notice Henry had been distracted. The boy started to forget things, eat less, and stay up late to catch up on assignments, which only led to a worse sleeping schedule. And anytime they got a few minutes when they were both at home at the same time, Henry acted like there was an invisible wall around him that Alex couldn’t touch. He stepped back when Alex reached out, shrinking deeper into himself in a way that, truthfully, offended Alex a little.
But tonight, when Henry grabbed onto the hem of Alex’s shirt, the sudden realization dawned on Alex—he had spent so much time waiting for the right moment to actually spank Henry that he missed the most important sign. Henry gave him an attitude because he didn’t know how to vocalize that he wanted Alex’s attention. The bundle of nerves that Henry was, he must have thought of eighty-six reasons why Alex didn’t want to take care of him and rationalized himself out of saying anything to Alex entirely. One of them was willing to give, and one of them needed to receive so badly. They just… kept on missing out on each other.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me yet,” Alex chuckled under the heavier weight of Henry dozing off on his shoulder. He planted a quick kiss on the side of Henry’s head. “I’m sorry.”
The apology jolted Henry awake. “Why? What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry it took me this long to take care of you. I read and read and read so much about the process, I forgot you are the expert and I should have just asked you.”
In response, Henry nuzzled his head into Alex’s chest. If it didn’t break his heart a little, it would’ve been funny how their entire friendship was built on miscommunications—when the world had proven, again and again, that between them, there was always enough trust and care to leap first and sort the details out later.
Alex kept holding him, even as Henry’s sniffles faded into slow, warm puffs of breath. His arms were solid and steady around Henry’s back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine in slow, comforting strokes.
Then—without warning—Henry clung tighter, hitching himself up, completely certain Alex would catch him. He wrapped his legs around Alex’s waist like he couldn’t stand to be even an inch further away, and tucked his head right back into the safe space at Alex’s neck.
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… missed you.”
Alex chuckled, cradling an armful of Henry. He dropped a kiss on the top of Henry’s head, murmuring against his hair.
“I know, baby. I missed you too.”
With that, Alex reached out to make sure the document was saved on Henry’s laptop before carrying his pretty boy back to his bedroom. Henry was already half asleep, melting into him completely.
Tomorrow, they could talk about the shift in their dynamic—what it meant, where it was going.
But for now?
There was no reason to pretend. No reason to deny themselves what they needed most: to just be close to each other, as Alex and Henry.