Red, White & Royal Blue - Alex/Henry
OCD is a bitch. Alex can usually cope perfectly well, thanks very much, but somehow things are immediately worse when he knows he can’t go out because there’s a fucking lockdown. And he’s in a bloody mansion. First world problems.
It’s so mortifying, because all this time he’s been worrying about Henry and his panic attacks, and he’s been so relieved to have him here, to be able to do this isolation shit together, to be there for him.
Instead, it’s Henry having to soothe him, loosen his anxious jaw with kisses, whispering, “Sweetheart, do you want…?” into his ear.
***
Oh, Alex more than wants. He needs. He grabs Henry by the tie to pull him closer, his stupidly gorgeous face, soft-eyed and flushed, lush lips parted. Alex pounces on those lips, sucking the lower one into his mouth, arching as he drags Henry splay-legged into his lap.
He wants to go slow, relearning Henry’s body with sweetness and laughter, but he also feels feverishly urgent, unable to wait. He’s already bucking up as Henry undoes his belt, pushes his hand inside Alex’s pants. “Fuck. Yes. Please.”
“Shhh, love. I’ve got you,” Henry whispers, and he does, boy, does he ever.