Xander wasn’t bitter about not being able to see Harry before the induction ceremony. He wasn’t. And he wasn’t bitter about the fact that he had a shitty view of Harry’s set with Stevie either, crammed into a tiny alcove with Jeff and Glenne that could only just be considered backstage on a technicality. He didn’t see Harry at all on the drive from the Barclays Center to the restaurant, but that was fine, too.
What wasn’t fine was the fact that Harry was apparently expected to meet a bunch of fans outside the restaurant after they ate—and when Xander grumbled something under his breath about wondering how they even found the place, Harry just looked him dead in the eye and told him he’d probably rather not know, which only worsened his mood.
Xander stood back obediently and watched Harry go to the door, hoping things would be wrapped up quickly. Once the coast was clear, or at least, clear enough, Xander ducked out after Harry’s security detail and quickly jogged over to the car waiting curbside for them. Xander threw himself into the backseat and waited patiently, eyes facing forward, for Harry to join him.
It was only a few minutes of absence, but a few minutes was enough to have Xander practically vibrating out of his seat with a cocktail of anger, annoyance, and anticipation.
Harry slid in next to him with a weary smile once he was done, apparently none the wiser to Xander’s barely restrained emotions. “Back to mine?” Harry asked as he leaned forward to update the driver.
“What about the fans?” Xander asked. He didn’t think he could handle another scene like the one they’d just been expected to. He didn’t think—judging from the way Harry looked acutely drained by the brief interaction—that Harry could either.
“Won’t see us come in from the lift in the parking garage,” Harry pointed out.
Xander nodded, satisfied with his answer, and crossed his arms over his chest to wait out the rest of the journey in silence.
It was always hard easing back into things with Harry when he came back from whatever extended world-trip he’d just been on, whether that was for work or for pleasure. Xander was never quite sure if he was supposed to pretend he didn’t know what Harry had been up to the entire time just to make small talk, or if it was better not to put up a pretense. They didn’t talk much while Harry was gone. Xander was okay with that—most of the time, at least.
“You all right?” Harry asked as he curled a meaningful hand over the top of Xander’s thigh.
Xander just nodded. He wasn’t in the mood to start things while Harry’s bodyguards were in the car with them, so he didn’t react to the touch. “Tired, I guess,” he fibbed.
“An early night, then?” Harry’s disappointment was almost tangible.
Xander shook his head. “No, I’m okay.” He forced a smile and brought one of his hands down to rest over Harry’s.
They sat in silence, without moving, for the duration of the drive to Harry’s apartment in Tribeca, the one Xander often used as his own owing to the fact that Harry very rarely spent any time in it anymore.
Xander half-wished they were going to a hotel instead. It was always harder to readjust after Harry left when Xander had the crystal-clear image of Harry spread out on the bed still fresh in his mind. He usually spent more time at Max’s place or at home with his parents just after Harry had been in town.
But Xander couldn’t begrudge Harry his creature comforts when he was here—it was his apartment after all.
Once they were home (Xander felt his brain trip over the word and ignored it) Harry immediately set about undressing—which meant wandering around the apartment while shedding his clothes and rambling incessantly all the while about the ceremony, his speech, the photo op, and so on.
Xander was just about ready to get up and stuff a sock in Harry’s mouth to get him to stop when he suddenly ducked into the master bathroom without so much as a word of explanation. Xander was befuddled for a second, and then he heard the shower come on and realized what Harry was up to. At least they were both planning on the same thing.
Xander relaxed on the bed and waited patiently for Harry to emerge. He was already a little turned on just because he knew what was coming next, but there wasn’t anything insistent or hurried about his arousal. He liked it better when they both took their time.
And Harry was certainly taking his time in the bathroom. It was another ten minutes or so before he emerged, his skin all pink and shiny from the heat, and just like that Xander perked up again, as if he hadn’t been almost on the verge of falling asleep on top of the sheets before they could even get to the action.
Xander hastily reached behind himself for a pillow and arranged it in the middle of the bed, patting it like one might to call over a particularly cooperative cat. Harry bounded forward and climbed onto the bed. His eyes met Xander’s as he crawled toward the pillow.
“Front or back?” Harry asked.
Xander shrugged. “Just want you comfortable.”
Harry wrinkled his nose as he mulled it over for a moment before settling on top of the pillow on his back, his ass perched on top of the pillow with his legs spread in a way that probably should have been less sexy to Xander, who had never even looked twice at another dick before becoming introduced to Harry’s.
The dick in question was harder than Xander’s, lying flat against Harry’s tummy, but Harry didn’t make any move to touch it as he laid down. He blinked up at Xander with wide eyes and his hands spread out to either side, waiting for whatever was coming next.
“Did you play with yourself in the shower?” Xander wondered as he scooted over to kneel at the foot of the bed.
“A little,” Harry said innocently. He peered down at Xander with curious eyes. Xander would have called them childlike if they’d been in literally any other setting. “You’re not even going to get undressed?” he questioned.
“Don’t need to be undressed to do this,” Xander pointed out as he hitched Harry’s legs up over his shoulders and leaned down to swipe the flat of his tongue over Harry’s ass. Having done so, he lifted his head again and quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you were bored of shaving.”
“I waxed,” Harry explained, already panting heavily. “Thought it’d be easier.”
Xander had long gotten over the weirdness of being able to feel Harry’s pubes against his tongue, but he wasn’t about to complain when Harry made the extra effort. For both of them, since Harry had once confessed that being hairless made him a lot more sensitive, especially when he got eaten out.
Xander ducked down again and went at it with a bit more gusto this time, working a finger in when he was certain Harry was wet enough, and using the frequency of Harry’s moans as he squirmed under Xander’s mouth to measure his progress.
Xander was just about to slide in a second finger when Harry clenched down around the one Xander already had pressed against his prostate—hard—before abruptly going limp. Xander paused for a millisecond before pushing the second finger in alongside the first anyway, coaxing Harry open with his hand and tongue in an effort to hopefully get him hard again before they moved on to something else.
But Harry didn’t move.
Finally, Xander lifted his head. Harry’s cock was lying soft against his hip now, a puddle of come pooling in his belly-button and streaked across his soft stomach as it gently rose and fell with each quiet breath. His eyes were closed.
“You okay?” Xander asked hesitantly.
Harry nodded without opening his eyes. “More tired than I thought,” he admitted.
Xander sat back on his heels. “We can call it a night now,” he said, trying not to sound like he was pressuring Harry into disagreeing.
Harry’s eyes opened. He sat up slowly, looking a bit dazed as he blinked down at Xander’s lap with a pointed frown. “You haven’t even gotten off yet,” he protested, as if that was the most important reason he could think of for not wanting to go to bed yet.
“I am capable of taking care of that myself,” Xander said with a bit of repressed amusement. It was always up in the air whether Harry was in the right mood to be laughed at in bed. Xander was guessing now wasn’t one of those times.
True to form, Harry adopted one of his trademark pouts and stared at Xander without blinking. Xander sighed and resigned himself to giving into Harry’s whims, as though it was him who was making the sacrifice by allowing Harry to stay up just a little bit longer.
“Lay back down,” Xander instructed as he shifted Harry’s ass back onto the pillow. He stripped quickly and tossed his clothes onto the floor with little care for where they landed. Harry would likely gripe at him for that in the morning, having already forgotten that he’d left his own clothes—a custom Gucci suit no less—scattered all throughout the first few rooms of the apartment.
Once Harry was flat on his back again and Xander was also naked, Xander lifted Harry’s legs up over his own spread thighs and carefully pressed his thumbs into the crease of Harry’s groin. By now, Xander knew very well the spots that got Harry riled up quickly, so it was a surprise when Harry gave a little shudder in response to the touch, only for his dick to not react at all.
Xander frowned and tried for a more direct approach, but trying to jack Harry off resulted in an even more pathetic sight.
Harry yawned casually, as if nothing Xander was doing bothered him in the slightest. “You’re fighting a losing battle,” he commented as he gazed up through the V of his legs at Xander, who met his resigned stare with a frazzled expression of his own.
“Yeah?” Xander replied as he traced a finger over where Harry’s downy pubic hair turned into peach fuzz again. “You sure?”
“It’s the wine and the jetlag, I think,” Harry said through a yawn.
That made sense, but Xander wasn’t sure what exactly that meant for the rest of their night together. “I don’t mind taking care of it later,” Xander offered, thinking that maybe Harry’s issue was that he didn’t want Xander to leave him alone for even the ten minutes it would take to resolve the issue on his own. “We can just cuddle until you fall asleep.”
Harry stared up at him with a look that made Xander feel like he’d failed a test he hadn’t known he was taking.
“What?” Xander asked, knowing even as the question left his mouth that he would likely regret it.
“Why do you always do that?” Harry asked with an accusatory lilt.
“Act like we’re complete strangers every time we fuck,” Harry replied, his tone growing harsher with every word. “Just because we don’t see each other as much—”
“I’m lucky if I see you twice a year,” Xander pointed out. He bit his lip, wishing he could take the words back as soon as he saw the flash of hurt on Harry’s face. “I’m sorry,” he added. “It’s hard for me, still, not to feel weird about—this.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed a bit, and for a moment Xander thought he might cry or yell for real, but instead he just lifted his hips a bit more and stared up at Xander in pure determination. “I want you to fuck me,” he said brazenly, daring Xander to argue.
But Xander had already had his fill of arguing for one night. He reached past Harry to grab the lube and quickly slicked up his cock, deciding to forego any additional preparation since he’d been licking Harry out and opening him up for the better part of half an hour anyway.
As soon as Xander lined up with Harry’s opening, Harry gave a full-body flinch, something Xander had only ever seen him do when something was truly, seriously wrong.
Xander paused and pulled back. “What’s the matter?” he asked, just as he glanced down to see for himself what the problem was.
“Nothing,” Harry replied quickly, but Xander was already reaching for the light next to the bed.
Once he’d flicked it on, the issue became plainly apparent.
“Shit,” Xander muttered as he stared down at the mess he’d made of Harry’s thighs and ass with his beard. Waxing had its repercussions, apparently. “I’ll get some aloe vera.”
“No,” Harry whined, making grabby hands and tightening his thighs around Xander as soon as he tried to leave the bed. “Wanna make you feel good.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you raw,” Xander insisted.
“You’ve done it before,” Harry replied with a smirk.
Xander shook his head. “You know what I mean. You’ve barely got any skin left down there. I don’t even know how you’re supposed to sit on a plane tomorrow.”
“I’ll worry about that then.”
“No,” Xander repeated. “Your hand’s fine, H. I’m not gonna complain. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”
Xander had expected another pout, maybe some more arguing, but certainly not actual tears.
“Come on, H,” Xander started to say, “you can’t just….” He realized belatedly that this wasn’t an attempt on Harry’s part at guilting him into compliance. Harry was legitimately upset this time. Xander wormed his way out of the encirclement of Harry’s legs and into his arms instead. “What’s the matter, babe?” he asked, gently pushing a stray curl out of Harry’s eyes. It felt good to be able to do that again, to be able to thread his fingers through Harry’s hair and pull until his breathing slowed and evened out. “Why is doing this so important, huh?”
“It’s like you said,” Harry replied miserably through another volley of tears. “We never see each other. I wanted to make it count while I’m here.”
Xander’s heart sank. Had he been projecting the expectation of sex on Harry without even realizing it? “You know I don’t think of it that way,” Xander explained. “I just want to spend time with you.”
“But I do think of it that way,” Harry countered.
Xander just sighed, knowing already that fighting Harry on this would be a losing battle. And what was he supposed to say? That he didn’t actually want to fuck Harry after all? He wasn’t in the habit of lying to Harry anymore, and he didn’t plan on starting it up again. Xander squeezed Harry a little tighter in hopes that it would be enough to dissuade him from his thoughts, but he was aware all the while that his cock was still hard against Harry’s thigh, and it was clear from Harry’s restless shifting that he was too.
“Harry,” Xander finally said warningly.
Harry just shook his head and wiggled out of Xander’s grip. There was a bit more life in him when he climbed on top of Xander to straddle the tops of his thighs. “Just want to try something,” he explained, perhaps sensing Xander’s wariness as he scooted forward to align their cocks—Xander’s still hard, while Harry’s remained totally soft.
“What are you—” Xander started to ask, only to be halted by a finger pressed against his lips.
“Not gonna ride you,” Harry said, but that was all the explanation he gave before snatching his hand back and moving it between his own legs.
Xander’s eyes flickered between the look of pure concentration on Harry’s face and the odd sight of Harry pulling at his completely soft cock in a way that was alien to Xander, who hadn’t been lucky enough to keep his foreskin after birth.
It took a few more seconds for Xander to catch on to what Harry was attempting to do, and then he gave a little jolt as his cock was suddenly enveloped in a strangely alien warmth—nothing like being inside Harry, or any of his past partners, but something wholly unique.
“Good?” Harry asked as he worked Xander’s cock deeper into the sheath he’d made with his own foreskin.
Xander nodded and blinked rapidly as Harry got bolder and his movements got even rougher. “That doesn’t hurt?” he managed, watching curiously as the shape of his cock under Harry’s foreskin seemed to penetrate even deeper than seemed possible. He could feel his own dick rubbing against Harry’s, but the feeling was different than he would have expected.
Harry shook his head. “Feels a bit weird,” he admitted. “But not bad.” He gave a little huff of frustration and worked his hand even faster. “Just relax,” he urged. “Wanna get you off.”
Xander laid his head back down again and closed his eyes for a minute, focusing on the feeling of Harry’s thighs clamped tight around his hips, the way his cock bumping against Harry’s sort of reminded him of bottoming out inside someone.
It wasn’t too much longer before Xander could tell that he was getting close. He opened his eyes again, staring up at Harry, realizing that with both of Harry’s hands cupped in front of his groin, it looked like Xander was fucking him for real.
Xander opened his mouth, willing himself to say something, anything, but nothing came out except a breathy sigh, and then it was over, his cock spilling hot and wet into Harry’s foreskin before overflowing onto Harry’s fingers and his own hips.
Xander felt all the tension drain out of him suddenly, replaced in an instant by exhaustion. “Did you manage to come, too?” he asked without lifting his head.
Harry mumbled something incomprehensible. Xander propped himself up on his elbows just in time to catch the movement as Harry shook his head.
Harry flopped down onto Xander’s chest without any warning, causing him to drop back down onto the mattress again with a gasp. “Wet wipes,” Xander reminded Harry, but Harry just murmured uselessly against Xander’s chest and didn’t move.
Xander sighed and rolled him carefully onto his back before scooting over to get the wipes out of the nightstand so they could clean up before going to bed. By the time Xander had finished, Harry was already out cold, his mouth wide open as he snored silently while Xander watched with a fond smile.
And sure, Harry would be gone again by tomorrow afternoon, but at least they’d always have tonight.