Chapter Text
Alex isn’t sure how he got here.
Here being pressed into the couch, his roommate straddling his lap and warm against every point they’re touching, soft lips moving against his own in the most sensual, leisurely pattern that Alex’s fingers instinctively flex where they’re clinging into his lower back. He’s hard in his pants, straining towards Henry, but there’s no desperate hands grasping, no drive to take this any further.
Just the lingering press of the softest lips moving against his own.
He knows how he got here—a nonsensical statement at the end of a frustrating day, a meaningless venting session that ended in Henry climbing into his lap and blissfully dragging him into sensory overhaul—but he doesn’t know how he got here .
Henry pulls back, his hips rocking forward, just so, and Alex gasps, his own hips rising to meet the pressure.
“Sorry,” Henry breathes, dragging his lips over Alex’s jaw.
Alex slides his hands around, dragging along the fabric of Henry’s shirt until his forearms are pressed flush against his lower back, dragging Henry in closer, clutching him right against himself.
He shakes his head, ducking his head to drag Henry back into a kiss.
Alex loves kissing. It’s been so long since he’s just been able to kiss someone. There’s always the expectation of more, of stripping down to nothing and rutting together until there’s nothing but a sweaty, breathless heap on the bed. But he wants more than that. He wants to drown in soft sensation; get lost in the drag of a mouth against his own, a tongue dancing along his. Wants to enjoy it without the expectation of what comes next.
There’s only this.
He squeezes Henry tighter, dragging his lower lip into his mouth; sucks on it before releasing it and pushing up, a firm pressure between his lips and Henry’s. Henry groans softly, one of his hands dragging through Alex’s hair and tugging.
“Your brain,” Henry says against him, his lips curving up into a smile, “is divine.”
Alex huffs out a laugh, “Technically this was your idea,” he presses a chaste kiss to Henry’s lips, tipping his chin up to bump the tips of their noses together.
“Mm,” Henry hums, kissing Alex’s cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Then,” he kisses the tip of Alex’s chin, dragging his lips across the day old stubble on Alex’s jaw. “I’m a bloody genius.” The words come out muffled against Alex’s skin as Henry starts to mouth at the edge of Alex’s jaw, tongue peeking out between his lips; soft, wet warmth engulfing Alex’s every nerve ending.
Alex tips his head back, shivering as it drags Henry’s lips down to the sensitive column of his throat; teeth catch on his Adam’s Apple, and Alex groans.
“Smartest person I know,” he says, squeezing Henry tighter. “Fuck.”
He feels Henry smile against him before he traverses back up to Alex’s lips. “And you won’t forget it,” he says against Alex’s lips, his own brushing so softly, curling around his accent.
Alex surges forward, Henry’s upper lip catching between both of his.
“Not if you keep kissing me like this,” He answers when they take a beat to inhale. “Fuck, I love making out.”
Henry nods, one of his hands sliding over Alex’s shoulder, thumb tracking the shape of his collarbone. “I had forgotten,” he murmurs, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth, “How fun it is.”
“Right?” Alex drags a hand up Henry’s back, cups his shoulder from behind. “It gets a bad rep. Sex is great,” he leans in, presses a kiss to the edge of Henry’s jaw, tipping his chin to nip at it playfully, “But making out can be just as fun.”
Henry’s breath hitches, mouth falling open. “No need to persuade,” he breathes, dropping back into Alex’s space, nose breathing against Alex’s. “I’m entirely convinced.”
Alex grins, pressing another firm kiss to his lips. Allows himself to sink into it; Henry’s lips glide against his with messy need. They stay there for a bit, just the push and pull of their tongues, the wet sound and the heaviness of their breaths the only sounds filling the room.
Eventually, Henry pulls back. Alex takes in a deep breath, almost dizzy, and grins at him as he brings one hand up and brushes a curl behind his ear. “Satisfied?” He asks.
Alex’s gaze falls to his lips; swollen and red, his tongue darting out to lick them as if they’re dry. “You could say that, yeah,” he says, voice hoarse.
Henry chuckles, leans in and presses a smacking kiss to his cheek before swinging a leg off of Alex’s lap and slipping back into the couch. “Happy to have been of service,” he says as he reaches for the remote. “Bake Off?”
Alex is still working to catch his breath—doesn’t miss the heavy rise and fall of Henry’s breath that says he’s doing the same—but he nods, leaning back into the couch. He’s still hard in his jeans, and an unintentional glance down to Henry’s lap shows he’s the same in that regard, too, but somehow he’s content to let it go down. Content to sit next to his best friend, having been kissed into oblivion, and watch Bake Off.
This is exactly what he needed.
His smile softens as he turns from Henry and looks at the tv.
He can always count on Henry to give him what he needs.