Alex ducks his head and places a hand on top of Henry’s. He looks around as if he’s checking to see if anyone else is watching before a look of calm washes over him, and he leans over, kissing Henry softly. “Love you,” Alex whispers.

Henry’s heart cracks open as he studies Alex’s face. He is tired, Henry realizes. There are circles underneath his eyes. His face is slightly pale. The toll that all of this has taken—being outed, making his speech, dealing with the criticism from Henry’s grandmother—sits plainly on his face, and Henry moves his hand from Alex’s thigh to caress his face. He kisses Alex back as gently as he can, so gently it’s as though his lips barely touch him. The kiss is slow and soft and out in the open, and…fuck, Henry doesn’t know what’s happening. He wants to grab Alex and shove him against a wall. He wants to kiss him as hard as he can, push his cock against Alex’s leg, card his fingers through those dark brown curls he loves so much.

Because Alex is his. Because now Alex is his in front of everyone else.

He is out, in a pub, in his hometown, and his fingers are laced with Alex’s, and he hasn’t exploded into a million pieces, hasn’t had stones hurled at him. The weight of the world has not crumbled around him. He is so relieved that he’s nearly emotional, has been all night, holding back a barrage of sappy tears for the sheer normalcy of everything. He and Alex are just like everyone else.

At least, he can pretend that they are while he eats fish and chips one-handed and finishes his fifth beer of the evening. The room is pleasantly hazy, he’s sufficiently full of grease and beer, and he and Alex are out.

And Alex, god, Alex is looking sinful.

Henry’s gaze drifts down to the way the dark wash jeans cling to Alex’s thick thighs, the way his shirt stretches to cover the muscles in his upper arms. Henry wants him. He slips a hand onto Alex’s thigh and inches it higher and higher up.

“I got you something.”

From anyone else, the words would’ve been sweet, but when they came out of Alexander Claremont-Diaz’s mouth, with Alexander Claremont-Diaz’s famous sly smile, the words meant danger. Henry watches as Alex reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a small, perfectly-wrapped box.

Henry takes the lid off and his mouth goes dry when he sees what’s lying inside. The plug is both small and larger than seems possible, and it—oh god, it—

“It vibrates,” Alex says, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Fucking divine,” Alex breathes, taking him in with darkened eyes.  Henry feels so exposed under Alex’s gaze like this, but most of all, he feels wanted. Theo doesn’t make him feel like this anymore, and God, isn’t that so exciting?  “I’m gonna suck you off, and then, I’m gonna open you up with my tongue and fuck the shit out of you,” Alex says, his eyes never once leaving his body. “Sound good?” Henry huffs out a laugh. The confidence that is just pouring out of this young man in droves is absolutely exhilarating. His cock twitches from the unbridled desire radiating off of Alex, but he fights the urge to wrap a hand around himself for some much-needed relief.  He nods, his lips curling into a smile. “Yes, I am very much amenable to that.”  “Amenable,” Alex mocks with a poor attempt at an English accent. “Who the fuck talks like that?”  “I do,” Henry purrs, choosing to ignore the teasing jab. “Now, c’mere. Enough talking. I want your mouth on my cock.”  “Gladly.” Alex settles in the space between his legs and does just that and then some.

Their movements are rushed, frantic, as if they’ve never touched each other before, and it’s driving Henry insane. He moans into Alex’s mouth, his teeth drag on his lip, he thrusts his hips up. Alex pulls away just enough to say “You look so fucking hot, Hen. I’m gonna fuck you, babydoll. Does that sound good?” Henry’s answering nod is full of desperation. “But first…” Alex slips his hand to the button on Henry’s jeans and undoes it, shoving the shorts down his hips and letting them fall to the floor. Alex rubs slow, soothing circles on the marks left behind from the tight jeans while Henry tips his head back and closes his eyes. “Look at my big boy,” Alex murmurs, “I’m going to make a mess of you.”

Suddenly, Alex’s hands are on his hips and spinning him back around. He kicks apart Henry’s legs with his feet and brings two fingers up, outlining his soft, plump lips. “You want these inside of you, baby? You know what to do.”