[ Forget everything else that's happened before this moment, that's the look. The one Alec wants to immortalize forever. That dark, hungry thing in Henry's eyes that practically begs for him. It draws a curse out of him, something low and sharp and heated. Fuck.
He dives back in for one more kiss, a harsh thing that hopefully somewhat distracts from the sensation of Alec withdrawing his fingers. He's been half-dressed for most of this encounter, and right now especially it feels suffocating. With his hand free, he straightens, sliding his pants and underwear down his hips in one motion, the whole hard length of him bobbing free fucking finally. Alec shifts around on the mattress to kick his pants free to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.
Where did that fucking bottle go-? There it is. With the soft pop of the lid, Alec slicks his hand anew, curling his digits around his length to stroke himself. Fuck. Fuck. If Henry wanted proof of just how much he wants this, this is it. ]
[He makes a low sound into his mouth, suddenly deprived of Alec’s fingers — it only adds another layer of unsated want to the growing pile, but he makes up for it by putting on something of a show for Henry to appreciate in the interim. And given his state, every single little detail is fixated upon, heightened by want and growing, impatient anticipation; of course he takes in the state of Alec’s arousal between his legs, as hard and as desperate as his own. Despite himself, Henry’s lips curl into a satisfied grin. It’s nice to know that this is hardly one-sided.
And watching him slick himself with his fingers, indulging in a few generous strokes along his length? Blissful torture. He could watch him like this forever, except he doesn’t want just to watch, he wants to touch, and feel, and he wants to put his mouth on him again— And it really is enough to drive a man crazy, just observing him in these few passing seconds, touching himself like that.
[ Said on the heels of another indulgent swipe of his fingers that threatens to rob his breath away. Yes, he thinks he'd like that too. Henry's hand wrapped around him, pulling pleasure out of him with long fingers. To say nothing of how sweet Henry might look with his lips around Alec's cock instead. ]
Hah. Shit. I'm ready.
[ So Henry better be too, though Alec is certain he never stopped being so. Fingers are one thing, Alec's whole, hard length is quite another. He's going to have to hold onto his flagging patience just a bit longer. And so with a steadying breath, a steadying hand on Henry's hip, he aligns himself and begins easing himself into Henry by slow degrees. ]
[He would like that. His steady touch, stroking Alec off until he completely comes undone. Or tasting him on his tongue, spoiling him with the warmth of his mouth — should that idea ever find a home in his head someday.
But for now, there’s no room in his mind for anything other than the sensation of Alec’s grounding hand on his hip, and the head of his cock teasing at his entrance until it’s not teasing anymore, instead slowly, so slowly, easing in.
“Easing”, though, is a relative, because there’s certainly a difference between Alec’s fingers and his cock. Though he’s courteous enough to take his time, Henry feels simultaneously excited—heart thrashing in his chest—and overwhelmingly full. He’s not even all the way in; fuck, he’s so warm.
Just like with his fingers, Alec will have to give him just a moment to get used to the sensation, though his slow approach should be more than enough to do so. Henry grasps at the sheets again, hisses out sharply through his teeth. His muscles clench around him, probably not doing the other man’s patience any favors, as he tries to reconcile feeling good with also feeling overly full. He squirms as much as he can beneath his touch, lifting a leg up at the knee, trying to feel him out at this angle.]
[ Yeah, no, Henry's not helping at all. He's aware that there will be another period of adjustment, but the squirming and the clenching are enough to nearly drive Alec insane. His grip on Henry's hip tightens, nails biting into skin, as one such movement practically punches the air from his lungs with how hot and tight and good it feels. ]
Haah, fuck, Henry.
[ He's trying to go slow here, and by some miracle he maintains pace instead of snapping his hips forward like he wants to. He better be grateful when this is over. ]
[Grateful will certainly be one word for how he’ll feel after.
Henry groans as Alec presses harder onto his hip, practically anchoring him in place. This would be more frustrating were it not for the fact that he can’t focus on anything more than the feel of his cock, easing in deeper until he’s fully sheathed inside. And, fuck— fuck. Henry feels so tight around him, filled up. It straddles that surreal line between satisfying and vaguely uncomfortable, but he’s too keyed up with unsated want by now—skin flushed bright in some places—that it starts to lean more towards the former.
Fucking, just— tries to angle his hips up. How deep can he— ah, god.]
You feel— [Gratifying, More than that. Henry abandons that thought.] If you’re trying to be gentle with me— don’t.
[ He lets out a low noise once he finally bottoms out, and Henry keeps up that damnable squirming, seeking a better angle. He's so unbearably tight around him that makes his pulse roar in his ears, and he's dangerously close to doing whatever the hell he wants, Henry's comfort be damned.
And then Henry has to go and say that, like whatever happens next is going to be his fucking idea. Hell. Alec is not and will never be gentle. He's being considerate, and that's fucking different. ]
Haven't been so far. [ Said as he draws himself out of Henry. Let's him sit with that sensation for a moment, feeding tinder to the fire of his impatience simply because he can. Don't get smart with him, Creel. ] I'm not about to start now.
[ His words are punctuated with the sharp, sudden movement of his hips, thrusting back in. It's certainly not gentle, and it feels so fucking good that he does it again. And again. Henry wants Alec to fuck him, and Alec is all too happy to oblige. He's been waiting for this, his own need left untended in favor of slowly burning the fight out of the man beneath him. Worth it, he thinks, for the way Henry feels around him as his hips find their rhythm, rough and relentless as the storm that flashes bright in his eyes. ]
[Considerate, gentle. Henry’s a flash fire that believes he wants neither of these things, and when Alec draws out of him, he feels suddenly deprived. Impatience flares again, a challenge threatens to rise in his eyes — how dare he give and then take away, make him feel almost desperate?
And then Alec thrusts right into him, hard and jarring and hitting at just the right angle, and that indignity goes flying apart, utterly forgotten. Henry’s lips part as he sharply inhales, surprised and caught off-guard despite knowing it was bound to happen; that once Alec let consideration fly out the window, he’ll chase after his pleasure, fucking him hard, and making Henry feel like every nerve radiates electric fire when he’s pistoned into.]
A-… Alec—
[Oh, he sounds needy. In retrospect, he’ll hate that. But he can’t parse it now. Everything’s overwhelming his senses, Alec's hard and hot and greedy inside of him, and he clenches tight around his cock for his efforts. And yet still, he seeks more. Henry needs to touch Alec, needs to touch himself, and one hand reaches out to grip against the other’s side. His erection bobs every time his body wracks against his thrusts, and his right hand clumsily seeks the base of his own cock, greedy for more.]
[ Say that again, he thinks to himself, though he doesn't dare say it out loud. Drawing attention to the needy tone of Henry's voice will surely undo something, and he'd rather not have this moment be ruined. There's been enough build up, enough teasing, and push and pull already. Now that he's fucking Henry, who is so tight, so hot, clenching so deliciously around him, he doesn't want to stop. Not until they're both spent and sated.
Henry's hand finds Alec's side, and his eyes flick over for a second, wondering if this is encouragement or a sign to stop. He surmises that it must be the former, seeing the clumsy way Henry grabs for his own cock. Fuck. Well, Alec won't stop him, and in fact seems to encourage it with the relentless rhythm of his hips. Let Henry take what he wants. Let him come undone with Alec seated deep inside him. It'll be a sight to see. ]
[It’ll hardly take much to undo him, especially when Henry is allowed to chase after more, to touch himself freely as Alec fucks him, but the grand idea of holding out for the sake of his pride is a thing of the past. He doesn’t care anymore — what an insane thought, to let someone else tip him so close to the precipice like this without any pushback from Henry, but he’s greedy now. He wants more of Alec inside of him, he wants to touch himself in tandem with the rhythm the other man’s set, and so he does; long, generous strokes up and down his length, one more layer of heat coiling hot in his center and spreading down every pathway of every nerve.
Henry groans, lets it all build, heart dancing in his chest. Instinct has him lifting his hips a little higher, just for a little longer, and the slight change in angle might as well be what throws him over the edge. Alec thrusts into him hard, and deep, and just right, and every muscle in his lower abdomen grows taut as he finally comes with a guttering exhale.
If Alec wanted to see Henry unravel, clenching tight around him, it’s hard to miss now. He spends himself over his own belly, warm and shining under the room’s lights, and his nails dig hard into Alec’s hip.]
[ Oh yes. It's just as good as he thought it would be. A sharp little grin cuts Alec's features as he watches Henry reach his peak beneath him, skin flushed and expression tight with pleasure. Oh yes. He drinks in the sight, though not for long, because his own need is insistent. His patience has been burnt away to ash with the way Henry clenches tight around him, accompanied by the dull sting of nails digging into skin.
He's not so nice as to give Henry a moment to breathe in the wake of that. Instead, he renews his grip on Henry's hips instantly, holding him tightly, keeping him in position as Alec chases his own pleasure with each relentless crash of his hips. Fuck, fuck. He's close, so fucking—
There. The heat builds, crescendos, and spills over. With a sudden and sharp breath, he spends himself, seated deep inside Henry. With a shaky exhale, he pries one hand away from Henry's hip, using it to brace himself on the mattress as he hunches forward a bit. Yeah, he'll need a moment. ]
[Henry’s inexperienced enough that his orgasm has nigh already pushed him towards a blissed-out state, even as Alec grips him tighter, securing him in place as he chases his own climax. The feeling, though, is anything but distant, and intermingled with his own flush of pleasure, it’s all he can do but renew his grip on the other man as he’s throughly fucked to completion.
There’s something about the lack of control in those few seconds, of being used up, that he should hate. But oh, he does not hate it at all — he likes it more than he’d ever hope to admit. When Alec comes inside of him, so strangely warm, he does his best to commit his face to memory. Every detail of the line of his brow. The way the shadows lengthen across his features in the changing angle of the light as he hunches over him. He is so frustratingly handsome like this.
Really, that’s all he can do for a moment, looking up at him as they both catch their breath, as his own come cools on his abdomen, his pupils still dilated from the act, seeking something to say.]
...Fuck, Alec.
[That’s about it, breathy and useless, at least right now. He loosens his hand, having left crescent marks on his skin, lets it fall to the sheets again. They’ve left each other marked, and bleeding, and sated.
And, as Henry will soon be cognizant enough to realize, messy.]
[ That's how it is, then. They both just watch each other as they begin the slow drift back down to earth, sweat and blood and other fluids cooling on their skin. Alec watches how Henry's eyes follow him when he moves, how his pupils are still so wide, so dark. The smear of red still clings to the corner of his mouth. Fuck, he's gorgeous.
Henry breaks the silence first, and rather uncharacteristically at that. Alec laughs, breathy. ]
Yeah, pretty much.
[ He straightens, bracing a hand against Henry's leg. ]
Relax for me.
[ Which is to say, he's pulling out now, with a slight hiss as he's exposed once again to the open air. Once they're separated, Alec plops down to a sit, back against the wall. He let go of his Enhancement spell a while ago, but he's still a little weary from the earlier effort.
[Almost a shame that the moment can’t last, that the sight is fleeting. Conversation soothes reality back into the normal flow of time, and now Henry does distantly note the sensation of Alec pulling out, the dearth of him, and the way the mattress shifts as he finds a spot beside him.
“Weary from the effort” and “post-coital, relaxing fugue” feel one and the same, though Henry manages to shift himself up on his elbows, exhaling out breath. He tenses his jaw, fighting back a shiver that likes to run up his spine post-orgasm; he only half-succeeds, manifesting as a jitter in his shoulders.
But more importantly, and perhaps more poignantly: Henry Creel is not versed in pillow talk. Surprise of the century, surely. He looks over at Alec, takes in the state of him, feels the growing claws of fixation stirring in his chest— And in becoming aware of the other’s state, this awareness turns inward to himself.
Eventually-]
I need to clean up.
[Places are cooling where they should not be. Almost deliriously, he thinks if there’s a next time, Alec will have to wear a condom.]
[ The wall is cool against his ravaged back, and he can feel the sting starting to settle in all over again. Ah, Henry really got him good, didn't he?
(Some small part of him thrills at the thought of looking in the mirror in the morning to see what marks might be left.)
Surprise surprise, Alec isn't one for pillow talk, either. Or most kinds of talk for that matter. He holds his gaze for a moment, wonders just what's going through Henry's head, but that makes itself known soon enough. ]
Sit tight.
[ Considering he's the least messy of them both, he gathers the strength of will to haul himself from the bed and wander into the washroom. Henry might notice there certainly are some angry red marks trailing their way down Alec's back as he passes. A short while later, Alec reemerges with a damp cloth that he tosses over to Henry. ]
[Oh, it’s a sight he can appreciate, those red and angry marks down Alec’s back — as well as the rest of him, if he’s to be completely honest. But it’s a two-way street, insofar as markings go; Alec’s left his own array of teeth marks bruised into his skin, ones that will take days to fade.
He catches the washcloth after he returns, courtesy of his powers. Henry doesn’t waste time in cleaning his middle.]
Yes. I definitely do.
[The sex is great, the aftermath leaves a bit to be desired in the clean-up stage.]
Not that I’m complaining, but the next time? [How presumptuous of him.] Maybe you should use a condom.
[Henry’s eyes flick up to Alec just long enough to (appreciate the view, I mean—) give him a look, brows raising in turn.]
Putting words in my mouth.
[Of course he did. But his pride has slowly coalesced into something reminiscent of what it was before they fell into bed together — he’s not just going to admit that out loud, obvious as it is.]
[How does one argue against something he has no grounds to argue against in the first place? Ignore it completely. Henry finishes wiping himself down, then eases himself off the bed, standing to move towards the bathroom.
Even if it means he has to sidle past Alec and that insufferable smirk on his face.]
[ Alec steps aside to admit him, smirking all the while. Yeah, they'll be back here, doing this again if either of them have anything to say about it. ]
[Likely so. If only the two of them knew just how far into this figurative hole they'll actually fall.
But right now, Henry will just disappear into the bathroom for a nice hot shower. He even closes the door, despite all that they've already done. c: Bye.]
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He dives back in for one more kiss, a harsh thing that hopefully somewhat distracts from the sensation of Alec withdrawing his fingers. He's been half-dressed for most of this encounter, and right now especially it feels suffocating. With his hand free, he straightens, sliding his pants and underwear down his hips in one motion, the whole hard length of him bobbing free fucking finally. Alec shifts around on the mattress to kick his pants free to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.
Where did that fucking bottle go-? There it is. With the soft pop of the lid, Alec slicks his hand anew, curling his digits around his length to stroke himself. Fuck. Fuck. If Henry wanted proof of just how much he wants this, this is it. ]
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And watching him slick himself with his fingers, indulging in a few generous strokes along his length? Blissful torture. He could watch him like this forever, except he doesn’t want just to watch, he wants to touch, and feel, and he wants to put his mouth on him again— And it really is enough to drive a man crazy, just observing him in these few passing seconds, touching himself like that.
Greedily-]
You need to let me touch you like that sometime.
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[ Said on the heels of another indulgent swipe of his fingers that threatens to rob his breath away. Yes, he thinks he'd like that too. Henry's hand wrapped around him, pulling pleasure out of him with long fingers. To say nothing of how sweet Henry might look with his lips around Alec's cock instead. ]
Hah. Shit. I'm ready.
[ So Henry better be too, though Alec is certain he never stopped being so. Fingers are one thing, Alec's whole, hard length is quite another. He's going to have to hold onto his flagging patience just a bit longer. And so with a steadying breath, a steadying hand on Henry's hip, he aligns himself and begins easing himself into Henry by slow degrees. ]
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But for now, there’s no room in his mind for anything other than the sensation of Alec’s grounding hand on his hip, and the head of his cock teasing at his entrance until it’s not teasing anymore, instead slowly, so slowly, easing in.
“Easing”, though, is a relative, because there’s certainly a difference between Alec’s fingers and his cock. Though he’s courteous enough to take his time, Henry feels simultaneously excited—heart thrashing in his chest—and overwhelmingly full. He’s not even all the way in; fuck, he’s so warm.
Just like with his fingers, Alec will have to give him just a moment to get used to the sensation, though his slow approach should be more than enough to do so. Henry grasps at the sheets again, hisses out sharply through his teeth. His muscles clench around him, probably not doing the other man’s patience any favors, as he tries to reconcile feeling good with also feeling overly full. He squirms as much as he can beneath his touch, lifting a leg up at the knee, trying to feel him out at this angle.]
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Haah, fuck, Henry.
[ He's trying to go slow here, and by some miracle he maintains pace instead of snapping his hips forward like he wants to. He better be grateful when this is over. ]
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Henry groans as Alec presses harder onto his hip, practically anchoring him in place. This would be more frustrating were it not for the fact that he can’t focus on anything more than the feel of his cock, easing in deeper until he’s fully sheathed inside. And, fuck— fuck. Henry feels so tight around him, filled up. It straddles that surreal line between satisfying and vaguely uncomfortable, but he’s too keyed up with unsated want by now—skin flushed bright in some places—that it starts to lean more towards the former.
Fucking, just— tries to angle his hips up. How deep can he— ah, god.]
You feel— [Gratifying, More than that. Henry abandons that thought.] If you’re trying to be gentle with me— don’t.
[Just fuck him.]
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And then Henry has to go and say that, like whatever happens next is going to be his fucking idea. Hell. Alec is not and will never be gentle. He's being considerate, and that's fucking different. ]
Haven't been so far. [ Said as he draws himself out of Henry. Let's him sit with that sensation for a moment, feeding tinder to the fire of his impatience simply because he can. Don't get smart with him, Creel. ] I'm not about to start now.
[ His words are punctuated with the sharp, sudden movement of his hips, thrusting back in. It's certainly not gentle, and it feels so fucking good that he does it again. And again. Henry wants Alec to fuck him, and Alec is all too happy to oblige. He's been waiting for this, his own need left untended in favor of slowly burning the fight out of the man beneath him. Worth it, he thinks, for the way Henry feels around him as his hips find their rhythm, rough and relentless as the storm that flashes bright in his eyes. ]
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And then Alec thrusts right into him, hard and jarring and hitting at just the right angle, and that indignity goes flying apart, utterly forgotten. Henry’s lips part as he sharply inhales, surprised and caught off-guard despite knowing it was bound to happen; that once Alec let consideration fly out the window, he’ll chase after his pleasure, fucking him hard, and making Henry feel like every nerve radiates electric fire when he’s pistoned into.]
A-… Alec—
[Oh, he sounds needy. In retrospect, he’ll hate that. But he can’t parse it now. Everything’s overwhelming his senses, Alec's hard and hot and greedy inside of him, and he clenches tight around his cock for his efforts. And yet still, he seeks more. Henry needs to touch Alec, needs to touch himself, and one hand reaches out to grip against the other’s side. His erection bobs every time his body wracks against his thrusts, and his right hand clumsily seeks the base of his own cock, greedy for more.]
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Henry's hand finds Alec's side, and his eyes flick over for a second, wondering if this is encouragement or a sign to stop. He surmises that it must be the former, seeing the clumsy way Henry grabs for his own cock. Fuck. Well, Alec won't stop him, and in fact seems to encourage it with the relentless rhythm of his hips. Let Henry take what he wants. Let him come undone with Alec seated deep inside him. It'll be a sight to see. ]
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Henry groans, lets it all build, heart dancing in his chest. Instinct has him lifting his hips a little higher, just for a little longer, and the slight change in angle might as well be what throws him over the edge. Alec thrusts into him hard, and deep, and just right, and every muscle in his lower abdomen grows taut as he finally comes with a guttering exhale.
If Alec wanted to see Henry unravel, clenching tight around him, it’s hard to miss now. He spends himself over his own belly, warm and shining under the room’s lights, and his nails dig hard into Alec’s hip.]
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He's not so nice as to give Henry a moment to breathe in the wake of that. Instead, he renews his grip on Henry's hips instantly, holding him tightly, keeping him in position as Alec chases his own pleasure with each relentless crash of his hips. Fuck, fuck. He's close, so fucking—
There. The heat builds, crescendos, and spills over. With a sudden and sharp breath, he spends himself, seated deep inside Henry. With a shaky exhale, he pries one hand away from Henry's hip, using it to brace himself on the mattress as he hunches forward a bit. Yeah, he'll need a moment. ]
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There’s something about the lack of control in those few seconds, of being used up, that he should hate. But oh, he does not hate it at all — he likes it more than he’d ever hope to admit. When Alec comes inside of him, so strangely warm, he does his best to commit his face to memory. Every detail of the line of his brow. The way the shadows lengthen across his features in the changing angle of the light as he hunches over him. He is so frustratingly handsome like this.
Really, that’s all he can do for a moment, looking up at him as they both catch their breath, as his own come cools on his abdomen, his pupils still dilated from the act, seeking something to say.]
...Fuck, Alec.
[That’s about it, breathy and useless, at least right now. He loosens his hand, having left crescent marks on his skin, lets it fall to the sheets again. They’ve left each other marked, and bleeding, and sated.
And, as Henry will soon be cognizant enough to realize, messy.]
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Henry breaks the silence first, and rather uncharacteristically at that. Alec laughs, breathy. ]
Yeah, pretty much.
[ He straightens, bracing a hand against Henry's leg. ]
Relax for me.
[ Which is to say, he's pulling out now, with a slight hiss as he's exposed once again to the open air. Once they're separated, Alec plops down to a sit, back against the wall. He let go of his Enhancement spell a while ago, but he's still a little weary from the earlier effort.
Worth it though. ]
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“Weary from the effort” and “post-coital, relaxing fugue” feel one and the same, though Henry manages to shift himself up on his elbows, exhaling out breath. He tenses his jaw, fighting back a shiver that likes to run up his spine post-orgasm; he only half-succeeds, manifesting as a jitter in his shoulders.
But more importantly, and perhaps more poignantly: Henry Creel is not versed in pillow talk. Surprise of the century, surely. He looks over at Alec, takes in the state of him, feels the growing claws of fixation stirring in his chest— And in becoming aware of the other’s state, this awareness turns inward to himself.
Eventually-]
I need to clean up.
[Places are cooling where they should not be. Almost deliriously, he thinks if there’s a next time, Alec will have to wear a condom.]
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(Some small part of him thrills at the thought of looking in the mirror in the morning to see what marks might be left.)
Surprise surprise, Alec isn't one for pillow talk, either. Or most kinds of talk for that matter. He holds his gaze for a moment, wonders just what's going through Henry's head, but that makes itself known soon enough. ]
Sit tight.
[ Considering he's the least messy of them both, he gathers the strength of will to haul himself from the bed and wander into the washroom. Henry might notice there certainly are some angry red marks trailing their way down Alec's back as he passes. A short while later, Alec reemerges with a damp cloth that he tosses over to Henry. ]
You wanna use the shower before you go?
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He catches the washcloth after he returns, courtesy of his powers. Henry doesn’t waste time in cleaning his middle.]
Yes. I definitely do.
[The sex is great, the aftermath leaves a bit to be desired in the clean-up stage.]
Not that I’m complaining, but the next time? [How presumptuous of him.] Maybe you should use a condom.
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[ His eyebrows go up, and he leans against the doorway to the bathroom. Yes, he's still naked. No, he doesn't care. ]
Enjoy yourself that much, huh?
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Putting words in my mouth.
[Of course he did. But his pride has slowly coalesced into something reminiscent of what it was before they fell into bed together — he’s not just going to admit that out loud, obvious as it is.]
If you don’t want to…
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[ Even if that insufferable smirk is back on his face. He knows. There's no use in denying it, Henry. ]
I'll take your suggestion into consideration.
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[How does one argue against something he has no grounds to argue against in the first place? Ignore it completely. Henry finishes wiping himself down, then eases himself off the bed, standing to move towards the bathroom.
Even if it means he has to sidle past Alec and that insufferable smirk on his face.]
I won't be very long.
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Take your time.
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But right now, Henry will just disappear into the bathroom for a nice hot shower. He even closes the door, despite all that they've already done. c: Bye.]