In AA there's this idea that you take inventory of your life, admit your shortcomings, in hopes that one day you can look at the world straight in the eye and be alone at perfect peace and ease.
Alex nips at Henry's throat and palms at his hips and sinks into the white-out bliss of being that impossibly close to him, of getting to share his body. Somehow it still amazes him that all of this seems to be as unbelievably, singularly good for Henry as it is for him.