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Henry George Edward James Hanover Stuart Fox did not get jealous. Perhaps he felt a slight pang of envy at the freedom Beatrice had carved out for herself. And yes, on occasion, curiosity about a life lived on his own terms might’ve grow a bit sour in his stomach. But jealousy? Actual, real, green-eyed jealousy? No, that was not something he battled at all. Not in the past, and not now, as he watched the shameless slut of a bartender slobber innuendo all over his goddamn boyfriend.
“…and so, yeah, it’s part of this big environmental push the new owners are working on. Not a bad idea, really,” the bartender said, eyes roaming far too openly over Alex’s cinnamon toast tan and snug pink swim trunks. “I mean, just because something’s had a life and uh…” he glanced at Henry, not appearing to give a single solitary fuck about the scowl he received in return “…gone past its sell-by date, doesn’t mean someone else can’t put it to good use.”
For Christ’s sake! They were on the beach in the middle of the afternoon, that man could at least pretend to have some decorum. Alex had only come up here to return their empty beer bottles, and now this abject wh—
“I’m honestly glad to know the new owners are taking recycling so seriously, especially out here where the ecosystem is particularly delicate. Hen”—Alex turned and looked at him like this was all completely normal, which raised the question of whether this was, in Alex’s world, all completely normal—“want anything else?”
“No, sweetheart. Actually, would you mind? I’d love if we could head back to our room for a few hours before dinner.”
“Yeah, of course. Thanks for the info,” Alex said, nodding toward the bartender.
“Happy to talk more any time.” His eyes slid back to Henry and, in his infinite audacity, he smirked. “What room are you staying in?”
“Mine.” Henry grabbed Alex’s hand (only because grabbing his wrist would have made the papers) and strode more evenly across the sand than should’ve been possible.
“Whoa, hey! Hold up!” Alex stumbled along the beach behind him, nearly falling over his own feet when they regained the footpath to the hotel. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”
“I hate it here,” Henry hissed, Prince of England smile plastered across his face until the private elevator doors closed.
“No you don't. This morning you were raving about scones and jam, and something about the quality of tea leaves that I don’t understand at all but that apparently fanfiction writers get wrong a lot?”
“Pekoe is not impressive, and this is not fanfiction. I want to go home.”
The elevator’s low chime announced their arrival at the private landing for their private suite, which, Alex had insisted, was absolutely necessary for security purposes and had nothing to do with the sheltered balcony and moderate soundproofing.
“Ok, Hen, seriously,” Alex said, unlocking the door and holding it until they had both entered the sitting room. “I obviously missed something, so please. Enlighten me. What is going on with you?”
Henry slumped into the corner of the lush sofa, the fight draining from his body into the cushions. Alex would never leave him for someone like that. So what if random strangers flirted (or ogled, or fucking drooled) at the sight of him? Alex had never, for one moment, hinted that he was anything less than utterly devoted to their future together. Same as he himself was. Not that there was much concern in that regard, for all the attention he g— oh.
“Hen?” Alex dropped onto the center of the sofa and pulled Henry’s legs onto his lap. “Hey. Baby. Whatever it is, you can tell me, right? You seemed pretty pissed back there, when that guy was hitting on me. Did I do something wrong? I mean, I would’ve loved to tell him to fuck off, but I figured that kind of press wasn’t what you wanted this week. If I’m wrong, though, just say the word.” He smiled that only-for-you-baby smile of his. “Motherfucker has it coming for upsetting the missus on her honeymoon.”
Henry couldn’t help but laugh. This man would be the death of him, and he would welcome the reaper with open arms.
“This is not my honeymoon.”
“But you are my wife…?”
“Hmm, we’ll see. I expect something far more unique than Cabo when you finally put a ring on it.” He both loved and hated that he was grinning like a madman; he had no idea how much of it Alex truly meant, but he knew exactly how much of it he did.
Alex shuffled closer and kissed him. “Ok, Beyonce. So was it that guy, or—?”
“No. Well, yes. Brazen hussy.”
Alex wedged himself under Henry’s thighs and trailed the tip of his tongue along the underside of Henry’s jaw. “You taste like the ocean,” he whispered, finding the soft skin behind Henry’s ear and sucking hard enough to drag a not-remotely-royal moan from his throat. “The only brazen hussy I want is you.”
Henry’s breathing picked up, and Alex laid a palm against his adam’s apple. He could feel every sound reverberating through that dangerous fucking hand and back into his own body, gasping as Alex squeezed just a bit. Salt-stained curls brushed his forehead when their lips met, and Henry felt himself shoved deeper into the cushions when that irreverent hand made its way down…down…over his heart, his ribs, his side, to slip under his t-shirt and—
“Alex.”
He pulled back barely enough to look into Henry’s eyes. “What is it baby?” he asked, his voice already husky with desire and lack of oxygen. “Tell me what you need.”
“I…I…” Absolute fucking traitor, his mouth was. Henry would see it hanged for this.
Alex leaned back farther, not removing the tender grasp of his hands from Henry’s neck and belly. “Are you still upset?”
“No. I mean, yes, I am but not…it isn’t about that bartender person. Well, it is, but it’s also…not.”
“Ok,” Alex replied slowly, his eyes revealing that he was as lost as the night this all began. “Do you want me to stop so we can talk?”
“Yes. Uh—no! No, I just…” A deep breath or thirty, that’s what he needed. Get it together, mate. You’ll never get to the good part of the night like this. “Yes, we need–I need to talk. I think. But no, please don’t, you know…move.”
“You got it, Hen. I’m here. I have no clue what’s happening, but I’m here.”
Henry exhaled hard and met Alex’s eyes, taking a minute to properly look at him for the first time since they’d gotten back to their room. God, he just fucking loved him.
“This is going to sound ridiculous, I fear. Ok, here goes. Of course I hate it when people flirt with you, at least in front of me. It’s disrespectful to both of us and makes me think I should have certain agencies’ numbers removed from my mobile for the safety of all those unfortunate brazen hussies out there.”
Alex laughed lightly and stroked his thumb up and down the side of Henry’s neck. “Go for it. Amy’s all we need anyway. But just for the record, you know I would never…”
“Oh, no. Alex, I know. I trust you, I promise. And I would never…either.”
“’Course not. I’m hot as fuck and great with my tongue.”
Henry’s eyes widened. He might never be used to the lack of filter on this man.
“What? I meant being bilingual. Get your mind out of the gutter, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm. Right. That’s…the real problem, I’m afraid. You looking like that, not your tongue. Quite a big fan of the tongue. Hoping to get reacquainted later. But, no. Places like this are—men like you walk around looking, well, like that, and while I couldn’t blame anyone for noticing—”
“Respectfully,” Alex added.
“—respectfully—it does, sometimes, once in a while, drive home that while you’re out there commanding attention for a body that could probably resolve international border disputes, I am…not.”
Nora had once sent Henry a meme of a man looking confused while mathematical equations floated above his face. Alex, in that very moment, bore a striking resemblance to the expression.
“Lemme see if I’ve got this right. You’re not mad about people flirting with me or staring or whatever, except when they’re jerks about it. You’re uncomfortable with the amount of attention I get for my appearance? I’m sorry; I’m trying.”
“I know.” Henry sighed, which he really ought to stop doing so much. It was probably having some weird adverse effect on his lungs or frown lines or something. “I don’t need you to get less attention. I don’t need myself to get more attention. I suppose, sometimes, I feel more…almost guilty? The way you put such tremendous care into your body is honorable and beautiful, and perhaps I should do the same. For you.”
“For me? Fuckin’—are you serious? Henry, I…baby.” Alex noticed his hand resting on Henry’s belly as if for the first time, fingers pressing gently against the soft skin. His voice softened into a whisper that belonged to tender words after midnight, sending a shiver down Henry’s spine where he sat in the early evening sunlight. “Baby, I wouldn’t change anything about you.”
Henry’s gaze dropped to the place where Alex’s hand was hidden beneath his shirt. “Not even this?” When he met Alex’s eyes again, he found a sincerity there that he hadn’t often seen but had learned to trust more than anything else in this world: a fierce certainty preserved in dark amber honey, giving way ever so slowly to a hunger that Henry hoped would never be shown to another living soul.
The shake of Alex’s head was subtle enough to have been missed completely if Henry hadn’t been staring straight at him. He folded Henry’s shirt back, exposing a much fuller midsection than the one he’d first encountered all those months ago. The hand that had been holding onto him there, keeping them grounded in the formality of spoken language, began to roam. His fingertips spun webs of gold across Henry’s belly. Lines of verse he almost knew by rote were traced across his body where it rose and fell, where it pressed a vow of devotion into the warmth of Alex’s palm.
That steady hand never left him as his legs were drawn carefully off of Alex’s lap, and hot breaths fell beside it like summer rain as lips and tongue and teeth showered him in want, like some precious thing being adored by the saint at his feet. Triceps weighed down his thighs, absorbing the shudders of pleasure that contracted the muscles there as Alex dipped his tongue into Henry’s navel.
“I want you,” Alex whispered directly into his flesh, as if he were speaking more to Henry’s changed and changing body than to him. “I want you more every day. This is beautiful.” He ran the side of his face along the shadow of his belly where it curved upward. His stubble scratched just enough to remind Henry that they were real—that he was real, and receiving the most gorgeous adoration from the man his heart would leap from his chest to follow across the earth.
“You are beautiful.” He dipped his tongue inside again, and Henry’s body broke free from its restraints, voice moaning and hips canting into Alex’s chest.
“Please,” Alex begged, already removing Henry’s clothes and tossing them to the floor. “Please let me show you how beautiful you are.”
Henry’s lips parted silently, and he was grateful that it was assent enough. One flick of Alex’s eyes and Henry rolled onto his belly, worrying for a brief moment about whether the fire that had been left on his skin would set the fabric aflame. Conscious thought mercifully left him as hands gripped his hips firmly and tugged, helping him onto his knees, elbows and forehead still pressed against the cushions beneath him. He knew what was coming; they had danced this dance before, but somehow the music had shifted.
Henry cried out as a tongue pushed hot and hard against him, thick and wet and working into his body without preamble. His eyes shut tightly. Alex was everywhere, sucking and nipping desperate, sensitive flesh with his teeth, wrapping one hand around a love handle, fingertips pulsing a secret code into the softest part of him, stroking his cock with the other. He would have been embarrassed by how wet he was, how there was enough pre-come dripping down the length of him for Alex to glide his hand fantastically over the head, fast and tight to the base, and back. Over and over and his tongue was pushing and pressing and oh, oh god…
Alex was around him, and over him, and behind him, and inside him. Henry was opening for his tongue like it had been made just for him. His moans grew into choked sounds, higher pitched and needy, and he didn’t know when he had started thrusting his hips backward, the most intimate part of his body shamelessly fucking the tongue that had announced to the entire goddamn world that Henry was his.
The fire Alex had left on his belly sunk in deeper, and he could feel it burning low and intense. He wanted to hold on to this, wanted to live and die and be reborn in this moment and only this moment. Alexander Claremont-Diaz was worshiping him from the inside, reveling in his body, his heart, his humanity, exactly as it came. Maybe if he didn’t look, didn’t breathe, didn’t let a stray thought in from the outside, this would never have to end…
And then a sound ripped from Alex’s chest, guttural and primal, and poured directly into Henry’s body, and he was shaking, screaming, being held flush against Alex’s mouth as that perfect silver tongue sunk so deeply inside of him that he couldn’t imagine it ever being anywhere else. Henry’s nails dug into the sofa cushions as he came, waves of bliss and release and AlexAlexAlex spilling beneath him. Everything fell away: the fading sunlight, the sound of his own ragged breathing, the worry that he was anything less than completely wanted. There was no up or down, and he was grateful he hadn’t been standing because there was no chance he still would be.
“You ok, baby?” was the first thing to re-enter his awareness. Alex’s voice was thick and hoarse and it was the single sexiest thing Henry had ever heard.
“M’good. Alex…”
“Would you come to bed with me?”
Henry eased himself carefully off the sofa and reached out a hand to where Alex now sat. His dry hand slid into Henry’s, and it took a moment before the look in his eyes registered.
“Alex? Are you alright?”
Alex stood on shaky legs and nodded.
“Come,” Henry instructed with a gentle smile. The stack of small rolled towels in the ensuite allowed Henry to make quick work of preparing them to climb into the obscenely large bed. “Come,” he said again, pulling back the linens on one side and crawling under them until there was sufficient room for two.
No sooner had Alex placed a hand on the bed than he was curled against Henry’s side, face burrowed between his neck and shoulder. Henry placed a hand lightly on his arm and traced the line of his body down, admiring the contrast in their skin tones and marveling that a person with so much to give was choosing to offer it to him. When he reached the spot on his hip where he faded from a sunkissed bronze to his natural, equally sunkissed tan, he stopped to stroke the soft place just below Alex’s belly. What could possibly be more decadent than being wrapped in this one particular warm, naked man?
“What do you need, love?” Henry pressed a kiss into his hair. It was stiff with sea water and would need to be washed. He wondered whether Alex might let him do it.
“I…need you. I need to know…did I…was I…what you needed?” Henry could not be sure, and he may never know for certain, but the sensation against his collarbone felt remarkably like tears.
“Alex, you were…I can’t even say perfect. It would imply there was some existing standard to hold you against, when that simply isn’t the case. There is no comparison to you, Alex. There is only you. And I hope…”
“What?”
He didn’t know if it was fair. But this man deserved everything, and Henry would not be the one to deny him.
“I hope there will also only be…me.”
Alex leaned back suddenly, and yes, they were tears. “Henry, it’s already only you. It could only ever be you.”
Henry wiped away one of Alex’s tears with his thumb, and leaned in to kiss him so slowly he thought he might die before he reached his lips. It was how he had imagined their first kiss would have gone if he had had the courage to do the thing right, the way Alex deserved. He hadn’t, and there was no changing the past, but he could get it right now, and every other time for the rest of his life.
Alex’s lips were almost shy against his, tentatively seeking him out each time they broke apart, and Henry was convinced his heart would collapse under the weight of his affection.
“I have a question,” he asked when Alex seemed to be satisfied—though he hoped that satisfaction didn’t last too long. “When we were in the bathroom just now, I thought I noticed—what I mean to say is, did you…?”
He hadn’t known Alex could blush through such a deep suntan, but it was a shade of crimson he wanted to see again immediately.
“I…yeah. I did.”
“With both of your hands on me?”
“Yeah. I, uh. Yeah.”
Henry’s body was on top of Alex’s even before he could make their lips meet. It was too soon to accomplish much, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t lick the inside of Alex’s mouth until he was moaning and gasping Henry’s breath back to him.
“That is the hottest thing I have ever heard in my fucking life,” he growled into Alex’s neck before biting down hard.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, Henry, Christ.” Alex panted, his chest pushing up against Henry’s with every breath. “Ok, ok,” he laughed, wrapping both arms around his neck and holding him tightly. “Any chance we could do dinner before you make me come hard enough to blur my vision again?”
“Hmm,” Henry hummed against his neck, loving how he squirmed but refused to let go. “If this is what a honeymoon with you would be like, maybe I’m the one who ought to be out searching for a ring.”
“Maybe,” Alex agreed. “We’ll have to bring Amy along though. You know, to handle the hussies.”
“True,” Henry said, climbing off of Alex and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Can’t have anyone upsetting your wife.”
Alex’s arms snaked around him from behind, one hand resting over his heart while the other stroked his belly. “You might have to stop saying that, you know. Could awaken something in me.”
“I do always hate when that happens.” Henry tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck in invitation. “What plans do we have after dinner tonight?”
Alex ran his stubble along the length of Henry’s neck until a full-body shiver came between them. “No plans I know about. Why?”
“Good,” Henry said, standing and leaning in for one final kiss. “I think it’ll be my turn to have dessert.”