Chapter Text
The sheets were sticking to his shins, the fabric around his legs dampening with his sweat as he forced his thighs to work a bit harder, bounce a bit high, rock a bit more forward, and grind down harder. Muscles shaking, breaths gasping, but determined to see the man underneath him wither and beg just a bit more, pant a little faster, voice get deeper and deeper as he watched him struggle to hold onto the bars behind his head, the veins in his forearms looking stark against brown skin, sticking out so much he had half a mind to bite down and suck, satisfy the urge to watch something spill. He kept talking as he kept struggling, words that had been pouring from his lips like vino from decanter in the beginning, were tapering off like his hips, movements stuttering out like trailed off thoughts.
The clock was ticking down, sand falling down the hourglass as his time was running out.
The air was hot, the A/C not being able to keep up with the heat being generated between their bodies.
He lost strength and fell forward, head landing in the crook of a shoulder as he kept moving his hips as much as he could. He was so close, each desperate grind beginning him closer and closer to an edge he could taste, a fall he could see. So close, he moaned out when a sharp ring interrupted him and sprung free the hands that hadn't let go of the bars.
Alex grinned, laughing as he clutched at Henry's hips as he flipped them. “My turn, baby.”
5 hours earlier
Henry was determined to enjoy his evening… as soon as he was done with his paperwork. Chuckling wryly, as it was usually Alex working late into the evening, he tried his best to read everything and not rush. Even though waiting on the other side of the finish line was a home cooked meal, dog snuggles, and a couch blanket after a long day of touring and looking over the plans for a new shelter in Queens.
He could faintly hear Alex’s warbling along to his music as he cooked, notes that he couldn’t carry in a bucket with a lid on it. He patted himself on the back for picking this room to create into his study when he finally moved into the Brownstone, after he (and Alex after some great reluctance he had sighed at until he saw him absentminded playing with the key around his neck) spent a good chunk of time overseeing its redesign. He had discovered how much noise Alex made when cooking after their worldwide tour and spending the summer in the lake house, and knew he had wanted it to be his background noise as he worked when they moved in together.
Plans were temporarily stymied when Alex decided that he should live on his own first as he got used to adulthood outside the White House and his parents' shadow, and Henry to learn to live outside Kensington’s walls as an adult. He was happy when Alex finally decided to start dropping hints he was ready to finish moving in, after a year of slowly watching his things migrate from student housing to the Brownstone.
He was finally on the last sheet of paper when he noticed a lack of noise, only the faint traces of a woman singing. Alex must be on the phone, he thought absentmindedly, as he focused on what zoning laws NYC had decided to throw at him. As he was finishing the last of his signatures, his phone started vibrating. Picking it up, he smiled brightly when he noticed it was vibrating in Alex’s custom pattern and a picture of Henry kissing his cheek was showing up.
“Henry Fox’s phone, Henry Fox speaking,” he answered crisply, making sure to sharpen his accent as much as he could in a slightly hoarse voice after spending a handful of hours in silence.
A thick Texan accent greeted him, honey thick and sticky after returning to the brownstone a couple days ago after a month of staying at the lake house. “Hello, Henry Fox. This is Alexander Claremont-Diaz speaking on behalf of Alexander Claremont-Diaz. I am calling to inquire if Mr. Henry Fox is done with his paperwork yet, so Mr. Alex Claremont-Diaz can start to put out dinner. Mr. Henry Fox needs to put out the cutlery and he does enjoy watching him bend around cabinets.”
Henry held in the giggle that was trying to escape by a hair. “If you can please tell Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz that Mr. Henry Fox is quite done and will be down shortly after briefly refreshing himself. He does ask that you inform him that he also enjoys being on the other side of Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz’s ogling and he does throw in a bit of a wiggle occasionally to entice,” he finished with his nose in the air, pulling on all his finishing lessons and every time he had to speak to his Great Aunt Jane.
Alex lost it at that, as great cackling was heard over the phone and faintly downstairs. “Why didn’t you come and get me, dear?” Henry asked, knowing that Alex avoided yelling across the house after a youth spent hearing his parents yell across their house.
“I was cooking and June texted me about Thanksgiving. She wasn't sure if you'd be stateside or if you were gonna join us over FaceTime again, like last year. And it reminded me of the times we spent on the phone, before we got together, and I don’t know. It sounds weird, but. I missed it for a moment,” Alex said softly, letting Henry picture the soft smile he would be wearing. “Talking for hours, not wanting to hang up and not knowing why. Getting to know you and I don’t know, discovering shit.”
Henry sighed. “I understand, love. It's not weird at all. Missing you before I even had you, before you were mine to miss, or even knew I could miss you. It’s not the same when I’m in London now. I just miss you entirely then.” Henry was downplaying the missing him. London without Alex at his side felt like a too small misshapen woolen sweater, scratching at his skin and making him desperate to take it off. It always sent him into a tailspin and communication between him and Alex usually turned into bare bones due to all the anxiety his grandmother generated. They had worked out some simple text messages emoji signals to cover their bases, necessary if any trip lasted over 5 days.
“As you should, I’m very missable” Alex confirmed, breaking the melancholy that had been creeping up. “Missed hearing you pant over the phone before we moved to FaceTime, and once we did, the shows you would put on. Though that,” a giggle broke through the line as Alex managed to squeak, “that one time Bea-“
“Alright that’s enough,” Henry harrumphed, feeling the red creep across his face and neck at the reminder of his sister interrupting him as he was three fingers inside himself as he bowed his spine back for Alex.
Alex laughed, the rich sound coming through across the phone's speaker and faintly echoing through their downstairs. “You didn't even notice she was there until she screamed, baby. Bea makes enough noise to raise the dead wherever she goes. And if I remember correctly, you kept asking me to talk Texan to you, guerito. I didn't even know what you wanted me to say, H.”
Henry wrinkled his nose at the reminder of his instructions, neatly sidestepping that it was not the last time he had asked Alex to lean into his accent, disregarding the careful muted Southern cadence he had adopted since after his first major convention appearance.
“Rich of you to say such when last time I could have sworn it was you who started whimpering when I started talking about the investment returns with my barrister last month.”
”Well, I -“
“And I had to hang up on him because you started unbuckling your belt!” Henry finished, an audible smirk floating over the line as he recalled the incident. Alex had motioned for him to keep talking as he worked off his sweater and shirt, his glasses getting caught up in his hair. They had ended up tossed to the side as Alex folded Henry practically in half, whispering to him to keep talking as Henry tried desperately to remember the English language.
Alex laughed. “And I remember you lasting a second once I started talking to you in Spanish.”
“Like you last longer when I start speaking French!” Henry scoffed, throwing himself back into the chair. He knew Alex’s accent did something to him, the roll of the r’s and the way he said Henry, the vowels softened with love and tenderness no matter how brutal his hips were thrusting.
“Okay, but when it comes down to it, I last longer than you.” Alex knew what he was setting up Henry for. Although Henry had adjusted to life in NYC fairly well, the smaller staff, the smaller circle of people surrounding him, and the way his whims needed to make more sense sometimes jarred him. A small bet would get his blood racing, Alex thought, and distract him for a moment from the upcoming autumn melancholy.
Henry walked directly into Alex’s web. “Care for a wager?” He leaned forward, clasping his hands on top of his desk, ready to lay the terms. “Whoever lasts longer has to explain to Mum the next viral tweet regarding us and answer any follow up questions she might have.” Catherine was notorious for delighting in embarrassing them and wanting a full etymology on any memes.
“Oh it’s on baby,” Alex laughed, sure in his win. “After dinner and after our movie. We can wind each other up and then time starts.”
“You’re on, Alex Gabriel.”