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Alex does his best not to disturb Henry while he’s writing – especially when he’s choosing to handwrite something over writing on his laptop. It’s usually something personal for Henry – a present for someone and Alex would hate to distract him from a something like that, but when he takes a peek in his office, he can see him wringing out his hand trying to get out the kinks that have clearly formed.
This prompts Alex to slyly offer, “Need a hand massage, baby?”
Henry looks up and smiles. “Spying on me, are you?”
“I’m simply just doing my due diligence as your husband to check up on you.”
Henry gets up and pulls him over to the couch in the room, offering his writing hand, he says, “Well, then, I should let my husband do his husbandly duties, no?”
Alex grins as he takes the offered hand. “Exactly.”
He begins to massage his hand, making sure to take note of Henry’s reactions – too much or too little pressure and if he’s hitting just the spot that Henry needs.
“That’s perfect, love,” Henry groans. “Best husband in the world.”
“Am I, now? Any particular reason why?” Alex teases.
“Hmmm, it could be those gorgeous eyes and lashes that are just… unfair.”
Alex laughs. “Unfair, really?”
“Yes, and we both know that you know it,” Henry counters. “Or maybe it’s your caring nature – taking care of me in the subtle ways… listening to me, feeding me, massaging me…”
Alex hums. “You make it too easy. Who wouldn’t want to listen to that accent? Who wouldn’t want to feed you and watch you react to some things that are a bit too accidentally spicy because I forget about your white boy pallet? And who wouldn’t want to get their hands on you… have you seen you? You’re unbelievably hot and it’s nearly impossible to keep my hands to myself.”
Henry hums. “Yes, well, those hands of yours are certainly … something.”
He looks down at Alex’s efforts on his hand and it’s clear that his hand is feeling much better, and maybe… Henry wants more.
Alex is definitely on board for that. So, he brings Henry’s hand to his lips and kisses the inside of his wrist. “All better, baby?”
Henry nods. “My wrist … maybe, but I could certainly use your hands somewhere else.”
Alex grins. “Oh? And where would this be?” He reaches over and puts his hand that doesn’t have Henry’s hand on Henry’s knee. “Here? Maybe?”
Henry’s eyes flit between his hand on his knee and his eyes. “Don’t tease, Alex.”
“I don’t know how to do anything else,” Alex counters. He takes the hand that is still holding Henry’s wrist and presses another kiss there, while the other begins to slide along his leg. “Or perhaps, it’s not my hands that you want, is that it? You’d rather have my lips instead?”
He kisses up Henry’s arm from his wrist as he moves his other hand closer to his cock.
“I take it back,” Henry states as he stops Alex’s wandering hand. “I have a terrible husband that likes to tease and now, he’s going to find out just how much of a tease I can be.”
Alex shivers. He likes the sound of that.
“Is he, now?”
“Oh, he is.”
And with that Henry stands and pulls Alex from the office, a distraction after all (not that Henry minds, at all).
***
It’s in the morning, satisfied and content, that Henry brings Alex the love letter he’d been writing to him – just because. It’s not a special day or anything, but every day waking up with Alex and living the normal domestic life he always wanted is more than enough reason to write to him about how much he loves him.
So, as Alex takes his cup of coffee and places it on the bedside table, he accepts the letter with a smile.
“You didn’t have to do this, baby.”
“I know, but I love you and that’s all I need to write something for you,” Henry offers, kissing his cheek.
“I love you, too,” Alex says, trying not to blush. They’ve been together for years, but Henry knows how much those words mean to him.
Alex then begins to read. It’s not as long as some of their emails were, but every word is filled with love. Every word is just for Alex and when he finishes, Alex gives him a deep kiss before picking up Henry’s writing hand and kissing his wrist.
“You were wrong yesterday.”
“Oh? What about?”
“You don’t have the best husband in the world…” he gives him a soft look. “… because I do. I’m so lucky to have you, Hen.” He kisses his wrist again. “I wish I had the words to tell you just how amazing you are, how lucky I feel, but I don’t – so I’m going to show you.”
Henry doesn’t get a second to ask what he means because he’s kissed within an inch of his life and frankly, nothing else matters.
They’ve both got the best husband in the world and he’s okay with that, as long as they’re together forever.