#tuserpaige | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morganaspendragonss · 10 months

Text

no hay palabra ni pincel

@reyesstrand tagged me in commiseration monday but ao3 is back up now so i thought i'd just share the whole thing! huge, huge thanks to my wonderful beta @ravens-words 💚 title is from the quote 'no hay palabra ni pincel que llegue a manifestar amor de padre' by spanish writer mateo alemán. it roughly translates to 'there aren't words or pictures that can match a father's love' ao3 | 4.4k | 5+1, father-son relationship, mentions of gabriel's death

five times gabriel wanted to protect carlos, and one time somebody took his place

“Ay, mijo,” Gabriel sighs, returning to his normal voice as he tucks Kiki the Koala in next to Carlos. “Think you can sleep now?”

Carlos’s grin fades and he quickly glances over at his closet, pulling his sheets up to his nose. “But what if the monsters come back?”

“They won’t,” he promises. Gabriel reaches out and strokes his son’s hair, smiling down at him warmly. He loves all of his children equally, but he can’t deny that he has a weakness for Carlos, for the way he stares at him so trustingly. He wants to preserve that innocence forever, but Gabriel has seen too much in his career to know that will be impossible.

But, while he can, he’ll protect his children against anything.

“Remember what I told you?”

“That the monsters could never take me,” Carlos repeats quietly, his words muffled by the covers.

Gabriel nods. “That’s right. You remember why?”

This time, Carlos’s smile comes back and he grabs the koala, almost shoving it in Gabriel’s face. “Because they’re scared of Kiki!”

A laugh bursts out of him, amplified by Carlos’s giggles, and Gabriel has to work to get himself back under control. He takes Kiki and poses him in a karate stance, then places him back at Carlos’s side. “Yes, mijo,” he says, ruffling his hair. “But what else?”

Carlos calms down, back to staring at Gabriel with those wide eyes of his. His children all have the same eyes, big and brown and pleading. His daughters have both already learned how to weaponise them to get whatever they want from him, much to Andrea’s chagrin, and it seems Carlos, too, has this power, though he hasn’t quite reached the stage where he’s doing it on purpose.

Gabriel gives it a couple of years, at most.

“You said that you would always find me.”

He nods again. “Yes. Mamá and I will always protect you, Carlitos, and we will always fight off the monsters. Just like Kiki.”

He does the same pose he’d done with the koala and Carlos giggles, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

“Alright,” Gabriel says. He stands and kisses Carlos’s forehead, stroking his hair one more time before straightening. “Time to sleep.”

Carlos nods sleepily and burrows into bed, Kiki clutched tightly in his arms. He’s asleep before Gabriel reaches the door, and he pauses with his hand on the lightswitch, watching his son. A lump of guilt rises in him as he does so, thinking about what he had been doing before Carlos walked in, about the case and how it could put everything Gabriel loves in danger.

He could be breaking every promise he’s ever made to his family by pursuing this, but Gabriel has to believe that it will be worth it in the end. That the world he will help create will be a better one for everyone, but especially his family.

He sighs and flicks off the light, hurriedly packing up the recorder before heading to bed himself.

“¿Qué pasó?” Andrea murmurs as he climbs in next to her.

“Pesadillas,” he responds. “Don’t worry, Kiki and I handled it.”

Andrea hums. “Ah. And before that?”

She’s too smart, this woman; it’s why Gabriel loves her. He doesn’t blame her for wanting to know and he wishes he could tell her, but he can’t put that on her. The best way to protect them all is to keep this on his own shoulders.

“Duerme, mi amor,” he says. “Ya habrá tiempo.”

ii.

Winnie snaps at Carlos’s hand again, just barely missing his fingers, and Gabriel hangs his head and sighs. He’s been watching Carlos attempting to pacify the horse for…well, not that long really, but his patience is frayed like it has been. As, apparently, is Carlos’s.

“This is stupid,” he declares, stomping across the field and out of the paddock to where Gabriel has been waiting by the fence. “She hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Gabriel says as calmly as he can. It’s been a full weekend of this, of sullen silences and glares from his usually mild-mannered son. This trip out to the ranch was supposed to cure all that, but Gabriel would stake his reputation on it only having made things worse. “And don’t let your mother hear you say ‘stupid’.”

“Mom’s not here,” Carlos shoots back, though the look on his face says he wishes she were. It sends a familiar pang through Gabriel’s heart; Carlos had been his shadow as a little boy, always Carlos’s first choice to play with or be read to by.

It’s been a few years since that was the case. Now, it’s Andrea he turns to for help with his homework, Andrea who cleans up his scrapes and guides him as he grows. Gabriel doesn’t begrudge his wife the privilege, but he does miss those years when Carlos looked at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars.

“Why do Ana and Luisa get to stay at home?” Carlos continues, an angry pout forming on his lips. “It’s because they’re girls, right?”

“Your mother and I wouldn’t–”

“Yes, you do! They never–”

“Carlitos–”

“Don’t call me that!”

Gabriel takes a shocked step back, registering the tears threatening to spill from Carlos’s eyes. They’re angrily swiped away a second later, but Carlos flushes deeply in shame, all too aware that Gabriel had seen.

Gabriel wishes he knew the right words here but, the truth is, he’s never been more lost. It’s ironic, he thinks; he spent so long worrying about being the father his daughters would need as they blossomed into young women, yet it’s his son’s adolescence that’s throwing him for the biggest loop.

“Mijo, I…” He trails off and sighs. More than ever, he wishes Andrea were here.

“Forget it, Dad,” Carlos says. “Just leave me alone.”

Carlos turns on his heel and heads across the field back to the house, shoulders slumped and head hung. Gabriel watches him go, heart heavy, then he turns back to the paddock, leaning on the fence.

“You know anything about this, huh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Winnie.

She snorts at him, unimpressed, and buries her head in her oats bag.

“Mijo?” Gabriel knocks tentatively on Carlos’s closed door. “Can I come in?”

There’s a long silence, and Gabriel is about to turn away when light footsteps approach the door and it swings open. Carlos looks at him with teenage exasperation and sighs.

“You don’t need to say it, Dad,” he says, walking back into the room and slumping down on his bed. Gabriel follows him inside and takes the desk chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking hard at his son, though Carlos is doing everything he can to avoid meeting his gaze.

“Say what?”

Carlos rolls his eyes, another thing Andrea would have his hide for if she were here. “You know,” he says, though Gabriel definitely doesn’t. He lowers his voice in an imitation of Gabriel. “Venga, mijo. Toughen up. Sé un hombre.”

“Carlitos, I–” A cutting look from his son makes Gabriel snap his mouth shut and he sighs again, bowing his head. “Carlos,” he begins again. “Why don’t you tell me what all this is really about?”

Carlos still stares stubbornly at his knees. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles. “Drop it, Dad.”

Gabriel never had a close relationship with his own father. He was raised in a different world to the one his son and daughters are growing up in, and he swore to himself when Ana was born that he would never treat her, or, later, Luisa, any differently to any boy he and Andrea might have.

That meant, when they were blessed with Carlos, teaching him how to cook and sew alongside his sisters; it meant showing the girls their way around a toolbox and giving all three of them the opportunities to do whatever their hearts desired – within reason, of course.

Still, he has failed. Still, Carlos has slowly been closing in on himself, hiding things from them; Gabriel hasn’t even seen him cry since he was a little boy. And it’s his own fault, he knows this. This is the inheritance passed down to him, which he has now passed down to his son in a seemingly endless cycle. If there’s a way to break it, Gabriel does not know it yet, but that’s not going to stop him from trying.

“You know,” he starts, “horses are pretty intelligent animals. They feel our emotions just as deeply as we do, and there’s a special bond between a horse and its rider. You’ve known Winnie since you were little, Carlos, and you’ve been riding her ever since you were tall enough to get on her back. I won’t deny that she was pissed today”—he pauses as Carlos looks at him, startled—“but you might want to reconsider who she’s pissed at.”

The surprise melts away, replaced by scorn. “Yeah, right,” Carlos scoffs. “Because my horse, who’s never heard of school, is mad at them and not something I did.”

“So something’s going on at school.”

“No! I mean– Yes, but it’s nothing. I’m handling it, Dad.”

“And what does that mean?” Gabriel arches an eyebrow at Carlos, waiting him out; they both know he won’t be the one to break first.

Carlos huffs. “It means I’m handling it,” he says sourly.

“You’ve spoken to the principal?”

“No.”

“Your teacher?”

“I–”

“Anybody?”

“Jesus, Dad!” Carlos explodes, though he withers under Gabriel’s hard stare. “I’m sorry. But why can’t you just leave things be?”

“Soy tu padre,” Gabriel says, gentler now. “It’s my job to ask these questions.”

“I’m not one of your cases.”

“I never said you were.” Gabriel shifts forward in the chair and reaches out to put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and Gabriel is startled to see tears shining in his son’s gaze. He tries not to show his surprise, though; the last thing he needs now is Carlos shutting down on him again. “You’re my son and I want to be there for you. Even if you do blaspheme sometimes.”

Carlos lowers his eyes again, but there’s a small smile on his face which he’s doing his best to hide. Gabriel smiles too and claps Carlos on the shoulder before sitting back and contemplating his son. He wants to do something to help, wants to march into the school and get to the bottom of this – but he knows that’s not what Carlos needs right now.

“Just promise me you’ll say something if this, whatever it is, gets worse,” he requests instead. “It doesn’t have to be me but you should talk to someone.”

Gabriel isn’t sure if he believes Carlos’s nod, but he accepts it anyway.

iii.

Gabriel can barely believe it when Carlos comes home one day and announces he’s submitted his application to APD. He’s smiling at them, so proud and sure of himself, but what Gabriel notices most is just how young he is. How unprepared for the brutal realities of this career he’s apparently chosen.

“Mijo,” he says, keeping his voice steady and calm. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Carlos’s smile falters, a frown taking over his features. “You think it’s not?”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Andrea. Her lips are pursed, expression unreadable, and it’s clear he won’t be receiving any support from her corner. Whatever opinions she has, they’ll be expressed privately, probably over the stove as she prepares dinner. Gabriel will be gone by then, duty never far from calling, and he’s sure the conversation will go all the better for it.

Besides, Andrea has always been one to let their children find their own path in life; she’ll ask questions, he’s sure, but she won’t do anything but support Carlos. Gabriel thought he was the same, but he never expected this, though he probably should have. He knows the pressure has been on for Carlos, the only boy, especially since Ana moved out to live with her fiancé and Luisa left for Harvard to study medicine. Now that Carlos is an adult, Gabriel had been foreseeing an empty nest in their future, his children all thriving at college or in life, getting a far better education than had been available to him.

He’s been blind.

“I think,” he starts eventually, the words feeling heavy under the weight of Carlos’s boyish confusion. “I think that perhaps you haven’t thought this through. Son, there are so many options for you; you’re smart, talented…any college would be lucky to have you.”

“I’ve been to college,” Carlos points out, starting to bristle. “I already graduated, remember?”

It’s a low blow and a bitter one; Gabriel hadn’t been able to attend Carlos’s graduation for his associate’s, having been caught up in the middle of a case. Still, he tries not to let the hurt show, waving a hand in the air. “Yes, well, the community college is a fine institution but it’s not college, is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, look at your sisters–”

“I’m not them!” Carlos’s shout puts a halt to the argument. He’s breathing heavily, his body tense with anger, glaring at Gabriel in a way he’s never seen before. Carlos shakes his head, then his eyes widen and he takes a step back. “Is this because I–” He cuts himself off but the words ring loud and clear, all three of them wincing in unison as they reverberate around them.

“Of course it’s not, mijo,” Gabriel tries, but Carlos isn’t listening anymore.

“You don’t think I’m good enough,” he concludes, a devastating pain in his eyes as he looks at Gabriel. But it’s the acceptance that swiftly follows which drives the knife deeper, accompanied by understanding as Carlos nods. It’s misplaced, Gabriel is sure, but he can’t find the words to correct him.

The problem isn’t that Carlos isn’t good enough. If anything, it’s that Carlos is too good; his son wears his heart on his sleeve and Gabriel can’t help but doubt whether it will survive this.

APD isn’t the Rangers. Carlos won’t be forced to reckon with the things Gabriel has dealt with over his career – at least, not immediately. But the life of a police officer, even in their lowest ranks, is not free from life’s tragedies, and Gabriel cannot reconcile the little boy who cried when they had to put down the family dog with the man, still non-existent, who may one day have to discharge a lethal weapon at a person.

He wishes he had the language to express this to his son but his tongue is tied by years of silence, and eventually Carlos clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He strides over to grab his bag from where he’d left it by the door and pauses, only half turning back towards Gabriel.

“Iris invited me out to celebrate,” he says, words clipped. “I think I’ll go after all.”

And he’s gone before Gabriel can say anything else. The tension remains in the room, thick enough to choke him, and he turns to Andrea, desperate for some consolation.

“This isn’t the life I wanted for him,” he says, and finally she comes closer, laying a hand on his arm.

“No,” she says, sighing softly. “But it is the one he has chosen.”

iv.

Your family is your biggest weakness. It’s the one thing law enforcement training still hasn’t found a method to stamp out, though they’ve certainly tried. Throughout his entire career, Gabriel has been uncomfortably aware of the enemies he’s made, conscious in every interaction with a suspect how it could come back to hurt him.

He’ll never forgive himself for forgetting it now.

Carlos’s house, where he and Andrea had eaten dinner only two nights ago, is little more than a pile of ash. The metal supports are warped out of shape and there’s a heavy, acrid stench of smoke lingering in the air.

It’s the nightmare Gabriel has been having ever since he met Andrea, become real in front of his eyes.

Beside him, Andrea grips his arm tightly, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Pero, ¿qué…?” she mutters, trailing off into a stunned silence. Gabriel wishes he could say something to comfort her but he has no words either; he can’t stop staring at the husk of his son’s life, lit up red and blue by the emergency vehicles surrounding them.

It hits him then, that the firefighters arrived too late to save the house or anything inside. Had Owen not realised when he did…

“Carlitos!” Andrea cries. She releases him and rushes over to where Carlos is standing with TK and Owen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Even from a distance, Gabriel can see the devastation on his son’s face, the tears that spill from his eyes as Andrea wraps him in a tight hug.

Selfishly, he keeps his gaze turned away from the ruins as he, too, moves towards the little group. He sees it now, those manic eyes burning into him as Raymond all but spelled it out for them.

“You took the most important thing away from me. And now, I’m going to repay the favour.”

Gabriel doesn’t know how it missed it, how either of them missed it. Owen, at least, realised something was wrong even after the firehouse exploded, but Gabriel? An hour ago, he was asleep, secure – or so he thought – in the knowledge that no-one else was going to get hurt.

And now his son has lost everything.

Andrea has released Carlos from the hug when he reaches them, though she continues her fussing, producing a tissue out of nowhere and rubbing at the soot on Carlos’s cheeks. He endures it for a while, but soon stops her, placing a hand on her wrist.

“Estoy bien, mamá,” he says, then glances over at TK. “We’re okay.”

Andrea smiles, cupping Carlos’s face. Then, she turns her attention to TK, hugging him just as tightly, and Gabriel is left to face his son. It’s been years since they were physically affectionate with one another, so Carlos freezes at first when Gabriel grabs him, pulling him close and holding him like he did when he was a little boy.

Gabriel’s stomach turns at the smell of smoke radiating from Carlos, but he stands firm, holding onto him, listening to his still-ragged breathing in his ear.

“You’re coming home with us tonight,” he says as he pulls away. Carlos’s face twists into something undefinable, but Andrea jumps in before he can say anything.

“Yes,” she says emphatically, clutching at TK’s arm. “You both are. I’ll make hot cocoa.”

“Dad, I…” Carlos shakes his head, looking conflicted. He looks between Gabriel and Andrea, biting his lip. “Are you guys sure?”

It makes Gabriel’s heart hurt to know that Carlos thinks the question necessary, but he just smiles and places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Of course we are, mijo. You’re our son and you, TK, you’re as good as. Let us take care of you both.”

Carlos hesitates a second longer, but then TK places a hand on his arm and they exchange a look of a kind Gabriel knows oh so well; the kind of look that passes between two people in love, one which only they can understand. He has shared many of those looks with Andrea, has seen his daughters do the same with their husbands.

He couldn’t be happier that Carlos has finally found somebody to share it with, too. Couldn’t feel more privileged that he’s finally letting them see it.

In the car on the way home, Carlos closes his eyes and rests his head on TK’s shoulder, and when Gabriel catches TK’s eye in the rearview mirror and receives a nod in return, something warm blooms in his chest.

Despite everything, it feels like hope.

En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén.

Gabriel touches the rosary to his lips, then lets his hands fall loosely in his lap, staring up at the cross in front of him. It’s hard, in a profession such as his, to believe in God, in a Plan, in the inherent good nature of human beings. But Gabriel has faith, and it would be a hell of a lot harder to believe if he didn’t see miracles every single day.

If, instead of sitting here thanking God for returning his son to him, he was comforting his wife in the face of a black hole opening in their lives.

There had been a moment in that house. A moment when Carlos’s head had rolled limply to the side, when TK’s expression began to crack, when a beat too long passed and Gabriel had thought it was over.

Then Carlos woke up, like the miracle he has been ever since the day he was born. There will never be enough prayers, Gabriel is certain, to thank God for it.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the chapel doors opening, nor the footsteps making their way towards him. He doesn’t notice anything until the pew creaks with added weight and Andrea appears at his side. She smiles at him gently, taking his arm.

“Are you planning on going to see your son any time soon?” she asks into the silence, though not judging or accusing. Even so, Gabriel feels guilty; he knows he should be with Carlos, and he had seen him briefly while the doctor explained MRI scans and blood tests and numbers that went too far over his head to understand more than that Carlos would be okay.

Then people started showing up, too many people, all wanting to see Carlos and check on him for themselves. There were already the girls and Andrea and TK, of course, but the waiting room had quickly filled with others, the firefighters, young and boisterous. Gabriel is used to crowds, coming from the family he does, but today it had been too much.

So he’d left, intending to go to the cafeteria and get a coffee.

Instead, he’d taken a right to the chapel, and he hadn’t gone back.

“Gabriel,” Andrea says quietly. She reaches up and strokes his hair, then sighs. “Mi amor. Está vivo.”

“Gracias a Dios.”

“Gracias a ti.”

Gabriel looks at her, surprised. Of the two of them, she’s always been the more devout, and they’re in a chapel.

But she merely smiles and pats his knee. “And TK, of course. We are so lucky Carlitos found him.”

In that, they have always been in agreement. TK saved Carlos’s life today, yes, but he has been a blessing to their family from the moment he entered it, even if Gabriel and Andrea weren’t fully aware of it at first. He sees it now, though, in hindsight; for a while before that day at the market, they’d noticed a change in their son. He’d been happier, lighter, busier. He’d had a life outside of work and Michelle.

He’d been more secretive, too. They had noticed, both he and Andrea, and they’d had questions, but neither of them had ever thought to actually ask. Sometimes, Gabriel wishes he could go back in time and do it all over again, do it all better, but the past is past and he’ll never be able to change it.

What he can do, though, is be there now.

He smiles and places his hand on top of Andrea’s. “Ahora voy.”

+1.

I’ve got him.

TK’s response, a how is he? that Owen can feel the desperation of through the screen, comes barely a second later. He glances over to where Carlos is standing with Ranger Bridges, his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. He looks so small like this, it’s almost easy to forget that not ten minutes ago he was seconds from ending another man’s life.

Though, there’s nothing that will ever scrub that from Owen’s memory. He’d never thought Carlos capable of anything like that, but grief changes people, Owen knows that better than many. He can’t judge him for this.

He returns his gaze to his phone, fingers hovering over the keys as he struggles with how to answer. He knows that every second without a reply will send his son even crazier, and he’s halfway through typing out an Okay before thinking better of it.

Not good, he goes for instead. Then swiftly follows up with: He’s unharmed but his head’s in a mess. I’m going to take him back to mine for a bit to calm down, okay?

I’ll meet you guys there.

No, don’t.

Owen winces at his own bluntness, but there’s no sugarcoating any of this. He can imagine how desperate TK is to see Carlos right now, but the last thing either of them need, even if they themselves don’t know it, is for Carlos to go straight back to the loft.

Listen, he types. He needs some space right now. I promise I’ll call you later and explain, but you’ve got to trust me to handle this one, TK. I’ve got him, I swear.

TK’s reply is a few minutes in coming, and Owen can imagine him sitting on the couch in the loft, biting his nails to the quick. He hopes he understands; Carlos doesn’t need a fiancé now.

He needs the very thing he’s missing, the very thing that brought them all to this place. He needs a father.

Take care of him.

Owen smiles and glances back up. Carlos nods at something Ranger Bridges says, then turns to head back towards where Owen is parked. His face is still blotchy and he suspects he won’t be able to look him in the eye for a while, but Owen can only think to be thankful that Carlos does get to walk away.

It could have ended so differently.

Always, he texts, then slides his phone into his pocket and opens the passenger side door for Carlos. He doesn’t put up an ounce of resistance, sliding in wordlessly and slumping in the seat, gaze trained firmly on his lap. Owen shuts the door and takes a moment before getting in himself.

He could never hope to be the man Gabriel was. He’ll never measure up to the father Carlos lost, just as Andrea could never be Gwyn, but this – here, right now – is something he can do.

He can try.

62 notes · View notes

avacoleman · 3 months

Text

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either. After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man. As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 6/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Miami, FL SuperCon Day 1 Their first day in Miami finds them at one of the city’s most notable radio stations just before noon. For months now, it’s been exciting to shadow Alex like this on different appearances, to get these glimpses into what the life of a Hollywood star is like. Through it all, Henry has most admired how completely down to Earth Alex is, seemingly indifferent to just how interesting a life he leads. The elevator doors open on the tenth floor and Henry instantly finds himself squinting against the sunlight that bathes the entire space in natural light. Employees mill about, some answering calls, others walking past quickly with their heads together discussing something. It’s all fast-paced and exciting and immediately, Henry feels swept up in the flurry of activity. He follows after Alex as he heads straight to the receptionist area. The woman at the desk is on the phone, typing something into her computer. She looks up once, then does a double take, her eyes widening just fractionally before she composes herself and finishes her call by the time they reach her. “Hi, I’m–,” Alex starts to say, but the receptionist smiles widely at him, already getting to her feet.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, yes. If you could just follow me, please,” she says, smoothing out her dress and coming out from behind her desk.

Her heels practically echo as she leads them down the corridor. Henry takes in the different posters adorning the walls of radio hosts and promotional shots throughout the years for concerts the station has put on.

The receptionist rounds a corner and brings them to a halt just outside of a door paneled with a window. Henry gets a clear view of the studio and a man seated inside, fiddling with headphones.

The receptionist opens the door, gesturing for Alex and Henry to head inside.

The studio is just like any other, microphones and other tech equipment placed on a large gray table with swivel chairs around it. There are more posters inside the room, but also photos of presumably past guests. Henry sees quite a few familiar celebrity faces smiling back at him from their frames.

Introductions are made and the show’s host gives Alex a quick rundown of how the interview will go. It’s as straightforward as they come.

Henry makes himself into a fly on the wall, taking a seat on the sidelines, checking and double checking that his phone is off as Alex gets situated at the table and slips his headphones on.

A man in the adjoining room counts them down and before Henry knows it, on-air light flashes on, the host welcoming listeners to the top of the hour.

Henry isn’t even the one being interviewed, but his heart beats a bit faster, an antsy feeling sinking in. Alex, however, is the picture of cool as he sits back and makes himself at home as the host continues to speak.

“We are live and on the air with Crescent Valley star Alex Claremont-Diaz. You know him, you love him. And in just three days, you can see him at SuperCon here in fabulous Miami before the show returns for its well-awaited special. But enough of hearing from me. Let’s get into it with the man himself. Alex, it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Alex’s smiles warmly and Henry recognizes that easy way Alex has of making people feel close to him. It’s the same way Alex has been this entire tour with fans all over the country. It’s the same way Alex had charmed Henry that very first night in New York. There’s a certain charisma Alex exudes that no one is immune to. Henry, arguably, knows that better than anyone.

The interview gets underway and the two chat for about fifteen minutes about Alex’s career and time on the show before the host winds down to talk about the upcoming special.

“Fans have been asking for this for years. How does it feel to be able to give viewers another look at the series?” the host asks.

Alex smiles a little to himself and there’s something almost bashful in his expression that Henry finds endearing.

“It’s nothing short of incredible. The support our fans have shown us since the beginning and all these years later means far more than I, or anyone in our cast and crew, could ever properly say. Their love and passion made this happen and I’m beyond grateful for it.”

Alex shakes his head, clearly taking a moment to get his thoughts together.

“This role launched my career. It’s given me the opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life, from all corners of the Earth. That’s a gift like nothing else. From all of us on camera and behind the scenes, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who tunes in and I hope you guys enjoy it.”

The interview wraps with the host reminding listeners that Alex will be at SuperCon in a couple of days. Henry watches as the on-air light goes from red to gray and he finds himself wondering for the hundredth time how Alex is able to juggle this life. Interviews, cons, filming, photoshoots, it’s a complete whirlwind and yet Alex seems perfectly at home with it all. He supposes years in the industry must have made this all second nature, but Henry doubts the speed of it all would ever be something he’d be able to adjust to fully.

Alex takes off his headphones and thanks the host for his time. They take a picture together and the man tells Alex that he’s excited to catch the special when it airs.

The way the host looks at him though, Henry suspects Alex might be the main selling point of watching it. It’s almost endearing how Alex doesn’t seem to notice the heart eyes being lobbed at him. Henry wonders what it’ll be like after Alex’s book releases in a few months and the radio host– and queer men all over the globe– find out that Alex is part of their community.

It makes Henry happy to know the world will open up even more for Alex, even though selfishly a small part of him will miss being in this exclusive bubble of a select few who know Alex’s truth for now.

They head out of the studio and start walking back down the hall to the elevators.

“Do you feel like going out tonight?” Alex asks abruptly.

For a foolish, fleeting moment, Henry thinks Alex is asking him out on a date, but logic kicks in.

“Don’t want to spend the first night holed up in the rental, huh?” he muses as he hits the down button.

“Precisely. I’m feeling…I don’t know. We’re young and hot and in Miami of all places. It feels like we should be taking advantage of that, right? Let’s go dancing.”

Henry barks out a laugh that makes the receptionist jump. Henry quickly apologizes before stepping into the elevator that mercifully arrives to aid in his escape from the scene.

“Alex, you’ve come to know me so well. Surely you can surmise that I don’t dance. ”

“That’s not the same thing as can’t,” Alex objects as the doors close and he pushes for the ground floor. “And besides, you’re forgetting that I’ve seen your hips move in the bedroom pretty damn well. Trust me, I know you’d be lethal on the dancefloor if you gave it an honest try. You didn’t even get on the floor with Pez in Denver. I’m not letting you cop out this time around.”

Henry’s head is still reeling from Alex’s second statement.

“Sex is different,” he argues. “I couldn’t possibly move like that with others around.”

Alex smirks as they reach the ground floor and the doors chime open.

“Oh, Henry. Miami nightlife is gonna teach you a thing or two. Just you wait.”

~*~*~

Nighttime in Miami feels like an absolutely different realm of existence. It’s almost as if the sun dipping below the horizon somehow flipped a switch on Henry’s surroundings.

“I suppose this is what Dorothy must have felt like when she entered Oz,” Henry says as he and Alex wait in line outside of a club. From the line snaking around the corner, Henry can tell it’s a popular one.

The heavy bass from the music spills onto the street and feels like an undercurrent to Henry’s anxiety over this evening. In theory a night of dancing should be fun, but despite Alex’s prediction, Henry still maintains he has two left feet and is more than likely to make a fool of himself in front of not only Alex, but a roomful of people.

When they’re finally admitted, Henry’s nerves lift sky high. The place is packed with people all moving to the music.

Alex takes to the vibe of the club like a fish to water. He looks genuinely excited, his eyes drinking everything in. Henry does too, but all he notices is how adept literally every person in the room is at dancing. He supposes liquid courage might be doing wonders for a good portion of them, but even still, he’s impressed with everyone’s ability not to overthink.

He wonders what a life like that would be like and quickly has to stop himself from ironically overthinking about overthinking.

“Don’t be nervous!” Alex shouts over the music, already bopping a bit.

He sets his hands on Henry’s hips and shakes him side to side while laughing.

“Live a little. Move a lot,” he says before letting go and beginning to dance all on his own in earnest. Henry can only watch him and marvel at how fluid Alex’s movements are. It’s obvious just how freeing this is for him and it’s downright captivating.

A gorgeous woman appears at Alex’s side as if summoned by his movements. She’s a vision with long dark curly hair and rich brown skin that’s accentuated perfectly by the red dress she has on. Henry wonders briefly if she’s a mirage.

Alex’s eyes cut to her for a moment and back to Henry, almost as if asking for permission. Henry tips his head, urging Alex to take her on as a dance partner.

Alex smiles and takes hold of the woman’s hand and they move as one immediately, so in sync with the blaring horns and percussion. It’s really a sight to see and Henry can’t help but to smile knowing just how much Alex is enjoying himself.

One song bleeds into another and Alex continues to dance with the woman. Secretly, Henry is glad she’s able to distract him; better her than him on the dancefloor now. Henry moves away and heads for the bar to get drinks for himself and Alex.

It’s a battle to make it through to the overcrowded bar, but Henry feels victorious when he manages to get the bartender’s attention.

“Whatever he wants, it’s on me,” a voice beside him says before Henry can even get a word out.

He looks to his right and sees an, admittedly, attractive guy half smiling at him. This feels a bit like déjà vu.

In a different bar, in a different city, he’d been approached.

In a world pre-Alex, Henry would have been intrigued by this man based on his appearance, certainly enough to graciously accept the drink to see where the night could lead.

But now, his mind is already calculating how quickly he can put an end to this. The brown eyes looking at him now aren’t the ones he’d like to stare into.

“That’s quite alright, but thank you for the offer,” Henry says politely to the stranger.

The man feigns a wounded heart.

“If I can’t get you a drink, could I at least get your name, sexy? I want to hear more of this pretty accent that goes along with that truly pretty face,” he says, voice lilting, his eyes a little unfocused.

It’s clear he must have nursed a few drinks here tonight already aside from the one currently in his hand.

Henry’s skin feels stretched uncomfortably. The bar is so swarmed, there isn’t much he can do to escape without notice, especially as the man continues looking at him expectantly.

Henry opens his mouth, but suddenly he feels a hand on the small of his back out of nowhere. He glances and sees Alex smiling tightly at the stranger. Henry relaxes into his touch at once.

The tipsy man looks between the two of them.

Alex continues to stare, glare really, before turning his attention on Henry.

“You good here?” he asks.

Henry smiles.

“Considerably better now. Thanks, love.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone,” the man mumbles.

He at least has the good sense to look apologetic, but Henry loathes the fact that it took someone else stepping in to get him to back off.

The man staggers away from the bar and Henry shifts his focus back to the whole reason he came over here in the first place.

Henry sighs seeing the bartender now taken up with other patrons. Of course the man would have lost interest immediately when there’s an army of people vying for his attention, money in hand.

“I intended to get us drinks,” Henry says uselessly to Alex, frowning.

“And then you were rudely interrupted by that vulture?”

Henry laughs as Alex glances over towards wherever the man vanished off to, a sour look on his face.

“Careful now, I might start thinking you were jealous.”

Alex purses his lips. Something changes in his expression, but the lights flashing inside the club makes Henry think he might’ve imagined it. It looked somewhat like irritation. Henry dismisses the thought quickly. There’s no reason why Alex would or even should be bothered by the other man’s advances.

“Dance with me,” Alex says.

“Where’s that beautiful woman from before? My savior? Perhaps I could convince her to pair up with you again.”

Alex lightly pinches Henry’s side and leans in by his ear.

“She’s not the dance partner I wanted this evening. I want you to watch you move,” he replies, a hand snaking down to Henry’s ass.

Henry’s eyes widen.

They’re in such a public place and though no one has come up to Alex professing themselves to be a fan, he still wants to exercise some caution.

He looks around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. He turns his gaze back on Alex.

“I really am dreadful. I wasn’t being facetious.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head.

“You’ve been teaching me things for months now. Let me return the favor and show you a thing or two.”

He gives Henry a light tap on his ass before taking a hold of his hand and leading him back toward the dancefloor. Henry feels trepidation with each step as if he’s been led to the gallows. But his curiosity and the burning need to touch Alex keeps his feet shuffling forward.

The band jumps into another song with heavy rhythm. Alex swivels his hips instinctively to the Latin music and Henry is once again mesmerized by how Alex moves, the sheer confidence and ease.

With a light sheen of sweat above his brows and his curls in lovely disarray, Henry simply cannot get over how sexy Alex is.

He reaches out, putting his hands on Alex’s hips, his eyes trained on his feet as he starts to mimic Alex’s footwork.

He’s hardly skilled, just as he knew he wouldn’t be, but he hasn’t managed to step on Alex’s feet yet so he considers it a win.

“There you go. I knew you could do it,” Alex boasts.

Henry keeps looking down, not trusting himself not to muck it up if he isn’t watching his feet. This is a far cry from the posh lessons he took as a child, learning antiquated moves like the waltz at his grandmother’s insistence.

“Just feel it, Hen. Relax.”

Alex comes in closer, his arms encircling Henry in return.

“Look at me,” he says. It takes Henry a moment but he does.

He keeps his eyes locked onto Alex, studies the way the light dances off his face, casting his features into shadows every few seconds. It’s almost hypnotic. Henry certainly feels as if he’s in a trance.

He notes the way their bodies naturally fall into step after a few moments. He wills his brain to shut off for once and heed Alex’s advice. To just trust his body and feel it.

Alex had been right back at the radio station; their bodies have been learning each other’s frequencies for months at this point. They are perfectly in tune now that Henry’s working to get out of his own head so much.

It turns out, Henry is actually decent at this. He finds himself laughing, a carefree sound that bubbles out his chest and joins the sounds of the nightclub.

There’s a curious look into Alex’s eyes as he seems to study Henry. He doesn’t speak his thoughts and Henry figures now isn’t really the time to ask.

The music changes, the live band being replaced by a DJ who plays dancy pop music. He and Alex adjust to the new tempo, but their bodies still remain pressed together. Alex rolls his hips teasingly, catching Henry by surprise. His body feels like an absolute live wire and any bit of contact with Alex has Henry utterly convinced he’ll blow at any second.

Arousal grows in the pit of his stomach. To be quite honest, it’s been brewing for some time now.

Alex turns, his back pressed against Henry’s chest. He grinds down as Henry grips his hips tightly.

Henry’s whole body feels hot and logically he knows that’s a byproduct of dancing for multiple songs straight in a dark crowded club, but he knows truthfully it’s mostly due to the fact that Alex’s perfect ass is now repeatedly rubbing against his growing erection.

Alex clearly has no regard for any of this as he reaches a hand up and combs his fingers through the hair at the back of Henry’s head, soon curling his hand into a fist. He continues keeping time with the music, grinding down again.

Henry can’t help it; he’s only human. He moans against Alex’s ear, his fingers digging deeper on Alex’s hips as he thrusts back.

“Have you any idea what you're doing to me right now?” he says, low enough for only Alex to hear.

He feels Alex’s body shake with laughter as he does it again, slower and harder this time.

Bastard, Henry thinks.

Before he can chide Alex for his cruelty, the man turns to face him. If Henry thought he himself was keyed up, it’s nothing in comparison to Alex’s molten gaze.

Alex doesn’t say a word as he takes a step back, subtly tipping his head towards the area where the restrooms are. Henry catches on quickly and together they navigate their way through the crowd, away from anyone else’s eyes.

The music carries over into the restroom, but as the door closes, it’s at least somewhat muted. Alex surveys the bathroom before tugging Henry into the closest stall.

“You look so fucking good out there,” he all but growls. “So good that apparently other guys couldn’t help but notice too.”

Henry searches his eyes, trying to absorb what’s happening here.

“Wait. Alex, were you actually jealous?” he asks, genuinely taken aback.

All the pent up tension seems to rush out of Alex at the question. It’s dizzying.

Alex avoids his gaze and shrugs.

“Not jealous. I…I don’t know. I know we aren’t…,” he stops short and shakes his head. “It felt weird seeing that dude look at you like that. He was getting way too close and for a second I thought maybe you might be into what he was trying to offer or...I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

Henry bites back a smile.

“You do realize that literally nothing would have happened between him and me, right? Even if he hadn’t turned out to be an absolute drunken knob, I would not have been interested. I came here with you,” he says, hooking his index fingers into Alex’s belt loops.

“I’m leaving with you. That’s just as I’d like for it to be. End of story.”

Alex’s shoulders relax a little.

“So, I haven’t made a complete idiot of myself then?”

Henry pretends to think about it.

“Eh, like three percent. Five tops,” he teases. “The peacocking out there really came in handy and all that dirty dancing redeemed you a bit.”

Alex playfully swats at his arm.

“You fucking dick.”

Henry grins.

“No one could ever accuse you of being a sweet talker.”

Henry tugs Alex forward a bit by the waist and Alex is quick to kiss Henry, his hands immediately slipping into Henry’s hair.

A public restroom is hardly an ideal setting, but it astounds Henry just how little cares as he kisses Alex back. The kiss intensifies quickly from light and sweet to heated, especially as Alex grips Henry’s hips firmly, his tongue working its way into Henry’s mouth.

Alex moans into his mouth, tugging Henry's shirt free from where it’s tucked in at the front. He runs his hands up Henry’s abs, his warm skin making Henry feel even hotter and more aroused.

Henry grabs a fistful of Alex’s curls and rolls his hips forward, whimpering softly when he feels Alex’s growing hardness against his own. The way he craves this man is downright maddening and should be studied.

He has to stop kissing Alex for a moment. They haven’t had even a drop of alcohol tonight and yet Henry feels drunk out of his mind off this man alone.

“Do you want to try something a little new?” he rasps, suddenly struck with an idea.

Alex’s eyes are so dark again, his lips red from how heavily they’ve been kissing. He nods, taking a few breaths as he stares blearily at Henry.

Henry shifts ever so slightly, wedging his right leg between Alex’s legs, his thigh packed in tightly against Alex’s groin.

The man lets out a staggered breath, one hand falling to Henry’s shoulder, cursing under his breath. Henry kisses the side of his face.

“I want you to take the edge off…or work yourself up, depending on how you look at it,” he muses. “But don’t come. Stop as soon as it gets to be too much. I don’t want you to finish.”

Alex groans.

“At least not here. Not like this. I want to take you apart myself for that,” Henry continues, brushing a hand through Alex’s curls.

“Can you do that for me, darling? Hm? Do you think you could at least try?”

Alex nods, his breathing already a bit heavy.

“Yeah. I’ll be good,” Alex whispers and Henry shivers at those words, his eyes closing faintly for a moment.

“You always are. Off you go, love.”

Alex nips on Henry’s bottom lip before he ruts up against Henry’s thigh tentatively, slowly seeking out friction. Henry knows Alex is teasing himself, but it’s every bit as pleasurable for Henry as well. Alex is making a meal of this, taking his time grinding against him.

Henry kisses him heatedly, licking his way into Alex’s mouth. It riles Alex up; his cock rubs a bit faster against Henry’s thigh. Alex breaks the kiss first and Henry’s ears swim with the soft raspy sounds that fall from Alex’s lips as he gives in to what his body is asking for.

Henry’s hands slide down to Alex’s ass, urging him forward, his own knees feeling weak but he stands strong, offering up his body to receive Alex’s call.

Alex buries his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, panting as he gradually moves faster, all out humping Henry’s leg, his sounds growing wilder and more intelligible.

Alex moves quickly and hard enough to make Henry’s body slam against the stall, the metal rattling. Henry's brain feels like it’s flying. Alex’s whimpering becomes desperate. His teeth sink into the pulse point on Henry’s neck as he stifles a scream.

“Jesus,” Henry mutters, so thoroughly turned on, his grip tightening on Alex’s ass.

Alex shudders hard against him and he takes a sudden step back. His face is a stunning shade of pink, his eyes wild. He looks as if he might be mere moments from losing it right then and there.

Alex rests back on the opposite wall of the stall, closing his eyes. It’s a small space, but the distance seems to be enough to let Alex get his head on straight. Henry watches as he takes a steadying breath and it seems like it’s taking every bit of Alex’s willpower to collect himself. Henry can relate all too well. That was one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced.

“Take me home,” Alex says, his voice catching as he looks at Henry.

“What’s the magic word?” Henry goads, unable to attempt some sort of control here though he himself is desperate to get Alex into bed.

Alex smirks and rolls his eyes.

“Please, baby. I can beg from my knees later if you’d like.”

Henry groans, his head tipping back against the stall.

“You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Alex.”

Alex’s grin is wicked and thrilling in one breath as he crowds Henry again, placing a hand between his legs.

“Can’t I? Take me home,” Alex repeats, lightly stroking him. Henry inhales sharply as Alex’s kisses along his jaw and to his ear, his voice deadly sweet as he speaks again.

“I want you to finish me off.”

~*~

Miami, FL

Day 4

Henry looks out over the balcony, taking in the gorgeous sunset. He doubts he’ll ever get used to the humidity in Florida, but he can’t deny the stunning view before him that looks like something on a postcard. Even with the impending rain he can smell in the air, the purpling sky is captivating all the same.

Alex’s appearance at SuperCon was yet another success and the perfect way to call an end to his tour. It was only fitting, in Henry’s eyes, that they celebrated with dinner at a restaurant downtown. It was nice surprising Alex and finding a way to somehow pay him back–even in a small way– for bringing Henry on this tour in the first place.

Now back at their rental, Henry feels himself in something of a contemplative mood as he watches the city. They’ve got another night out here before Henry tags along to Los Angeles for all things Crescent Valley reunion. He’s gotten through the last set of edits he received and upon his return to New York, Henry merely needs to round out the book with a portion on the reunion and Alex’s feelings about it all.

It makes Henry feel wistful knowing just how soon he’ll have to move on from this project. Perhaps even from Alex in general. He tries to picture a world in which they’d be able to maintain a friendship. He worries that, like this tour, their connection might run its course too.

Everything attached to this project came with a deadline. Maybe their dynamic would suffer the same fate.

He frowns to himself, a bitter lens now falling over the landscape in front of him.

“There you are,” he hears Alex say.

Henry half turns to look at him, getting his bearings together and flashing a smile. It becomes more genuine the longer he looks at Alex, the man still dressed sharply from their night out.

“I didn’t mean to disappear on you. I just couldn’t resist this,” he says, turning back and gesturing at the view.

“I’ve gotten so used to being on the road these last few months, it’ll be a bit strange returning to my normal life after L.A. That’ll be my absolute last chance to see palm trees in person before I go home,” he muses.

Alex’s arms encircle his waist from behind unexpectedly, his chest firmly against Henry’s back. Henry holds his breath, not daring to move. They’re once again falling into this precarious dance where they flirt with the line they ought not to cross. Henry supposes in different ways, they already have.

Alex kisses his shoulder, his lips skimming up towards his neck where he lets out a breath before pressing his lips to Henry’s skin. Alex places slow, soft kisses up the length of his neck. Henry’s pulse quickens, his body trembling a little as Alex exhales again.

“Do I make you nervous?” Alex asks quietly.

Henry lets out a breath, turning his head to the side to look at Alex as the man rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Among other things, yes,” Henry replies truthfully.

Alex’s hold on him loosens and Henry takes advantage of the moment to face the other man full on. For the life of him, he can’t read the look in Alex’s eyes. Alex blinks quickly and looks away.

“Darling, what is it?” Henry asks, angling his head to force Alex’s gaze again.

“I hate this. I know we still have a bit more time when you come to L.A., but it’s really starting to sink in that this is almost done, you know? I’m going to miss being around you every day. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

Henry blinks twice. Alex’s words harken back to the night they met. They hadn’t known then that they’d have more time together. Perhaps life could surprise them again, if they were lucky.

Henry tucks his hand under Alex’s chin and searches his eyes.

“We’re here now together. Let’s make the most of it.”

Alex’s bottom lip quivers just slightly before he nods, his eyes grow intent, renewed with something akin to determination.

Alex places his hands on either side of Henry’s face and kisses him. It’s slow and sweet and cracks Henry’s chest wide open with the care he’s being shown. In another world, this could be his.

Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist and pull him in closer, their chests resting squarely on one another’s. Henry wouldn’t at all be surprised if Alex could feel just how fast his heart is racing.

Alex breaks the kiss first, his eyes looking like blown out stars. Henry cups his face with his right hand and Alex pulls in a breath, looking as if he’s preparing to say something big.

“I’m ready for the final lesson,” Alex says, peering up at him through his gorgeous lashes. “I want all of you tonight...if you’ll have me.”

Henry sighs softly, his eyes closing as he rests his forehead to Alex’s. He wants this so badly, he can hardly stand it. Their night after the club had been intense, so much so that Henry had almost floated the idea himself. But this was quite literally Alex’s timeline. He wouldn’t rush his process.

“Yes, love. It’s time.”

Henry takes a hold of Alex’s hands and leads back into the house and to his room. Henry closes the door behind them and suddenly the full weight of this night begins to settle over him.

The air in the room feels charged somehow, like a storm of a different kind is brewing within these four walls.

They move towards each other, drawn like magnets until they’re mere centimeters apart.

Alex keeps his eyes on him, even as he undoes the buttons on Henry’s chambray shirt completely. He slips his hands to touch Henry’s bare skin, the palms of his hands smoothing down his sides.

This is hardly the first time Alex has touched him, but Henry knows it could very well be the last. There’s a bittersweet tone to the night that breaks Henry’s heart to a degree he knows it shouldn’t.

All the same, Henry does his best to center his attention on the here and now.

He locks eyes with Alex and begins undoing the man’s shirt in return, pushing the fabric down and off his shoulders completely. He kisses down the side of Alex’s neck and to his right shoulder, his lips sweeping across Alex’s collarbone and back up the other side of the man’s neck.

He plants these kisses like seeds, wondering if they could ever bloom into something tangible between them, something they’d be able to hold onto beyond this night.

Henry looks him in the eyes once more and Alex smiles softly before kissing him again, his hands running smoothly up Henry’s back as he walks them towards the bed, their shirts falling away like faint whispers against the floor.

Alex lays him down gently and Henry cannot take his eyes off him. Between the soft sound of the promised rain starting to fall outside and the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together, Henry feels as if he’s in a haze.

He cups Alex’s cheek and kisses him deeply as the man undoes his pants and undresses him completely.

Alex sighs and looks down at him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

It’s the first words either of them has uttered in minutes and the compliment makes Henry feel flustered.

Henry blushes at once. “Alex, come on.”

“I’m serious, Henry,” Alex presses, his tone leaving no doubt that he is. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I can hardly even look at you sometimes. It’s almost too much.”

Henry smiles bashfully, his heart skipping several beats. He tucks his face into the crook of Alex’s neck, placing a soft kiss there, murmuring a quiet thanks against his skin.

It’s all he can muster now.

He doesn’t doubt Alex’s sincerity in the slightest, but it is quite hard for Henry to fully conceive of the thought. This is a man whose life is set perfectly in a land known almost exclusively for beautiful people and yet, Alex seems keen to hold him in the highest regards.

Henry sighs softly and settles his back on the bed once more, reaching out and toying with the key around Alex’s neck, just as he’d done that night in New York that now feels like two lifetimes ago.

From the small smile on Alex’s lips, Henry can tell he’s thinking about that evening too, of how they’ve come so far with each other in the months since.

Henry tugs gently on the chain, drawing Alex’s mouth to his again and kissing him deeply as Alex’s fingertips skate down his body and down to his legs, parting them.

Henry moves as guided, spreading himself out against the sheets, back arching at Alex’s gentle exploration. His body trembles delightedly at the feel of Alex’s fingers brushing against his rim, his body aching for more of his touch.

Alex breaks the kiss, his lips plump and eyes heavily lidded. The way he’s looking at him now sends a shiver of anticipation down Henry’s spine.

“Where’s—”

“Top drawer,” Henry answers immediately.

Alex chuckles but leans over, grabbing supplies from the nightstand before guiding Henry’s legs to push back, his feet planted atop the bed. Perfectly open and on display. Alex’s eyes comb over his body and a wounded, affected sound falls from his lips.

Alex places a kiss on one of Henry’s knees as he coats his fingers and settles in closer to him.

Henry can’t help but to think once more of their first night in New York, how in over his head Alex had seemed and genuinely was. Comparing it to now, the look of sheer confidence and utter know-how is truly like day and night.

The first brush of Alex’s fingers against his entrance makes Henry’s whole body buzz at once. Alex kisses his cheek before ensnaring his lips slowly, the pad of his thumb circling teasingly at the same pace. It drives Henry crazy and he loves every second of Alex taking his time with him, building up the moment just as he said he enjoyed.

The first slip of Alex’s finger inside him makes Henry’s eyes roll shut as a low moan escapes him.

“So needy,” Alex teases, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Henry couldn’t deny it if he tried. He feels thoroughly desperate for any and everything Alex deigns to give him.

He trembles as Alex starts to set a pace, working in and out of him. He rolls his hips forward, hissing softly as his body adjusts to the intrusion. But already he wants more.

His eyes flash to Alex and his wants must be clear as day on his face because when Alex’s hand returns to him, he’s added another finger.

“Better?” Alex asks.

Henry nods, his eyes closing again for a moment. He continues to rock forward, getting lost in the rhythm of Alex’s ministrations.

Alex shimmies down his body, dropping kisses all over his torso as he goes until he’s level with Henry’s groin, his fingers never stopping all the while.

That mischievous twinkle Henry loves is in his eyes and Henry takes in a breath to prepare himself for whatever Alex has in mind.

Henry gets the answer a beat later when Alex takes a hold of Henry’s cock and swipes his tongue across the head.

Henry lets out an undignified curse, his breath catching. Alex smiles up at him and does it again before sucking on just the tip.

It’s a sight Henry doubts he’ll ever be able to process, but one that is sure to cement itself in his mind, to live forever in his memories as something he’ll refer back to in the future ahead where he and Alex go back to be just…former collaborators? Friends?

The uncertainty of it all is a thought he can’t afford now. He won’t spoil this night by breaking his own heart.

He rakes his fingers through Alex’s curls and moans softly, keeping his eyes locked onto Alex’s as the man pleasures him.

His eyes roll shut at the feel of Alex’s fingertips gently brushing his prostate.

By the time Alex adds a third finger, Henry feels ready to burst.

“Alex,” he whispers, his throat dry and cracking on the name.

It’s enough to get the point across. Alex retracts his hand and mouth, rubbing gentle reassuring circles on Henry’s thighs. He looks between Henry’s legs, his face flushing. Henry can only imagine how he must look, gaping and ready, perfectly poised to take him.

If I can make you lose it like that with my fingers, just imagine the things I could make you feel when I’m buried inside you, Alex had said that day in Reno when he left Henry a quivering mess in his hotel room.

Here it was now that Henry would no longer have to wonder. He’s mere moments away from knowing firsthand what a well-practiced Alex was like.

Alex finishes undressing himself and though Henry has been aching to feel Alex inside him, he has to take a moment to admire Alex’s body. His hands run from his shoulders to his chest, his torso, and to his hips.

He can’t imagine ever having a partner as breathtaking as this ever again.

He looks up at Alex who— by some miracle— has been quiet this whole time.

“Sorry,” Henry says, dropping his hands.

Alex’s brows furrow.

“Why are you apologizing? You’re doing wonders for my ego right now,” he muses before he opens the condom wrapper.

“May I?” Henry asks.

Alex lifts a brow, his face intrigued. He hands it over all the same. Henry gives him a quick kiss before working it over Alex’s length, his fingertips brushing along his shaft. Alex shivers a little.

Henry takes a hold of him, guiding Alex to his entrance, teasing himself a little by rubbing the head of Alex’s cock against his rim, never letting it slip in.

Alex’s thumbs work over Henry’s nipples, adding to his pleasure.

Henry moans softly, feeling his cock twitch and stiffen in response.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling as if he might be monopolizing their time by teasing himself. The buildup is just too good to resist, knowing the reward will be all the sweeter.

Alex shakes his head.

“No more apologizing. Take whatever you need. I don’t mind one bit, baby.”

He leans forward and traps one of Henry’s nipples between his teeth, biting down gently. Henry keens, rubbing Alex’s tip against himself again as Alex starts to suck on his delicate flesh. His tongue is a menace against the hardened nub, encircling it before switching sides.

Henry bites back on his own lower lip and aligns Alex to his entrance, nodding up at Alex to proceed.

Alex doesn’t hesitate; he tips his hips forward and slides slowly into Henry, filling him up inch by inch. Henry grips his sides, mouth falling open.

His body shudders as Alex keeps going until he bottoms out completely.

They both gasp and freeze, taking a moment to collect themselves. Henry feels so full, his walls clenching around Alex’s length. He feels him everywhere.

Alex drops kisses on the side of his face, the tension in his body stretched like a rubberband ready to snap.

“Jesus Christ, Henry. You feel incredible.”

Henry lets out a breathy laugh.

“I had the same thought about you.”

He licks his dry lips and rolls his his upward, crying out at the sensations coursing through him at once. Alex slowly starts to pull out and Henry clutches him tighter. This already feels so different, in the best way, than New York.

“I need it. I’m ready,” he pants.

Alex thrusts back in and Henry sees stars as he’s filled again, his body utterly starved for the man above him. He kisses Alex heatedly as they get underway, Alex fucking him in earnest now that he’s been given license to move freely.

Henry’s brain feels as if it’s made of cotton balls or gauze, something light and airy that feels viable to blow away at a moment’s notice.

He hooks a leg around Alex’s hips and the position drives Alex in deeper. They both curse at the same time. Alex buries his face in the side of Henry’s neck, nibbling and sucking his skin as he hips keep time. Henry feels himself dripping from the overstimulation and somehow hungry for more.

He drags his dull nails up and down Alex’s back, his body feeling as if it’s on fire.

Alex pulls back enough to look at him and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. For all the hooking up they’ve done over the past few months, he’s never seen this expression on Alex’s face.

It’s almost too much, but Henry wouldn’t dare put a stop to this.

He grabs at the sheets, his hands gripping a fistful of fabric to keep himself steady as he snaps his hips forward to meet Alex’s thrusts.

Henry turns his head to the side but Alex touches his face lightly and gently coaxes him to face forward again.

“Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you.”

Henry trembles as he stares back, gasping softly as Alex takes a hold of his slick cock and strokes him.

Henry breathes softly, mouth still agape as he rocks his body toward Alex, surrendering fully, allowing himself to feel everything wholly without hesitation.

“There we go,” Alex says quietly as he smiles. “Beautiful.”

Henry seeks out his lips, his head tipping up to capture Alex’s mouth, kissing him gently as his hands settle on the small of his back.

This connection had been missing entirely that night in New York. All their weeks together have culminated in Alex being confident within himself and secure with taking the lead. In every respect, Henry knows he’d follow wherever Alex deigned to take him.

“More, please,” Henry rasps, fingers digging into Alex’s sides.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Alex rolls his hips, burying deeper and slamming harder into him as Henry’s nails dig in more firmly, anchoring him as his body thrums.

“God, yes,” Henry moans when Alex strikes him just right.

The difference between their very first night and now cannot be overstated. Alex is almost like a different person entirely to him.

No, Henry thinks. Different skill set, yes. But that magnetism has been in place this entire time.

He seeks out Alex’s mouth again even though he can barely breathe as it is.

Alex is relentless now, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Henry’s walls cinch around him, his toes curling as his orgasm builds.

“You’re right there. Fuck, Henry. So good for me,” Alex grits, taking a hold of Henry’s cock once more and jerking him off. His hand moves quickly against his shaft, pumping and squeezing his length.

Henry’s eyes water and he can feel himself throbbing, climbing closer and closer to his peak. He thrusts back shamelessly, greedily taking everything that Alex gives to him and offering himself back. His breaths are heavy and uneven, his heart pounding almost dangerously, but Henry has never felt more in control of himself even as he goes careening off the edge a moment later.

Alex’s name falls from his lips in a deep, desperate moan, loud enough to ring in the quiet of the room. Alex doesn’t let up, his body still moving against Henry’s and carrying him through. Henry’s grateful for it, eager to savor the last remaining moments of this.

He spills out in the small space between them, his stomach warm with his own release. Alex’s hand doesn’t break stride, nor does the man break eye contact. Alex looks absolutely ravenous, practically feeding off Henry’s response to him.

Henry’s whole body is hot and drained, but he doesn’t stop moving, so eager for Alex to feel this level of euphoria too.

He can feel Alex’s cock throbbing and twitching inside him, his finish just moments away at this rate.

Henry kisses up to Alex’s ear, hanging onto his shoulders as he whispers to him.

“Come for me, Alex. You’re so close. I can feel it. Use me.”

His teeth graze Alex’s earlobe and he bites down just enough to add pressure.

Alex gasps out a shaky breath and a beat later, a string of curses falls from his lips as he fucks into Henry roughly. Henry’s hips move forward steadily as Alex comes, his nails scratching down Alex’s back as he sees him through his finish in kind. Alex grips his hair, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Henry rests the palm of his hand over Alex’s heart and feels how quickly it’s racing. He peppers Alex’s jawline with kisses, his other hand rubbing his side.

“Breathe, darling,” he says softly, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re dark but so clear, reinvigorated even.

Alex doesn’t say anything, merely crushing his mouth against Henry’s as Henry smiles and drapes his arms over Alex’s shoulders.

Alex skims his fingertips down the side of Henry’s cheek as he rolls off of him, Henry sighing at the loss of feeling Alex inside him. Alex disposes of the condom and returns immediately to Henry’s side.

Henry kisses him slowly at once, slinking an arm over Alex’s waist. Time feels infinite and truly irrelevant. All there seems to be is this perfect moment with Alex as he kisses Henry back unhurriedly.

Henry breaks first to catch his breath. He brushes damp curls off Alex’s forehead as they stare in silence at each other for a few seconds.

“I think I’ve made up for New York now, yeah?”

Henry laughs heartily at the statement.

“Yes. I can say, without question, that you have. Ten times over in fact.”

Alex grins toothily before his face grows a bit serene, his fingers now trailing along Henry’s jawline as he gets his thoughts together.

It’s a tender move and it makes Henry’s heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly. It certainly feels that delicate.

“Thank you for giving me this. All these weeks with you. Nothing could ever compare to it.”

For now, Henry thinks. After all, these lessons had been nothing more than practice for whatever next guy comes along and manages to dazzle Alex. Henry feels sick to his stomach at the thought though this has been the truth all along.

This moment feels like both a thank you and a goodbye.

Henry wants to ask if it has to end here, but he knows that it must.

“Stay with me tonight,” Henry says instead, splitting the difference and pushing past the sudden lump in his throat.

Alex’s brows knit slightly and Henry can’t blame him. That had been one of their rules, no spending the night in each other’s room though Austin had been the one unavoidable exception.

All the same, with this being their last night of lessons, Henry figures perhaps they could bend the rules a little.

Alex continues to look at him for a moment in silence.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” Henry says, quickly losing his nerve. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that.”

Alex shakes his head, stroking Henry’s cheek with his thumb.

“Stop. That’s not…I’m staying. I want to stay. Honestly, if I were to have to go back to my room, I’d be bouncing off the walls. It makes better sense to just…not leave,” Alex rambles.

Relief floods through Henry’s body at once. They've been on borrowed time since the beginning, but at least for tonight he’s able to buy them a few more hours.

Alex kisses the tip of his nose.

“And besides, if memory serves— which it absolutely freaking does— you promised me something back in Reno. I want to cash in on that tonight.”

Henry’s brows furrow for a moment before he remembers, a smile spreading across his lips as he gently spreads Alex’s legs.

He relishes in how quickly the move shuts Alex up and clearly excites him.

That certainly makes two of them. Henry’s mind has been running wild for weeks picturing himself not just working Alex open, but being inside him, bringing him the kind of pleasure he’s never experienced before.

It might seem like a daunting task to some, but Henry views it as a privilege he’s more than capable of handling.

“You’re right, darling,” Henry says, skimming his fingertips along Alex’s inner thighs, delighting in the way Alex trembles. “Next round’s on me.”

#rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #userthai #tusersonia #tuserpaige #usernicholas #usersteen #tusersilence #userjamiec #lookstevie #iuserzoe #uservalentina #kimmy writes

25 notes · View notes