🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss -- send a heart for a snippet!
Henry is not typically one to feel self-conscious in his skin. He may not be an Adonis like his boyfriend, but he’s still fit from years of horseback riding, walking David, and generally being an active human.
It’s just that… since the move to Brooklyn, he’s started to notice an extra pound here and there, and he’s formed a little pudge of a tummy, most likely from so many carry out meals and so little time to make it to the riding stables since the one owned by an old polo team mate is outside of the city and quite the drive. And he doesn’t feel some time of way about this often, but tonight he’s frustrated. Frustrated because his favorite pair of jeans aren’t fitting the way he wants them to, and Alex is gone for a run and it just feels like the universe is trying to drop him a hint or something.
He’s standing in front of the long mirror in their closet when Alex returns home, sweaty and stinking like fresh morning sunlight and B.O. His curls are a mess and his cheeks are ruddy from exertion, and he’s still breathing heavy when he enters the bedroom and finds Henry staring at himself in the mirror, pants unbuttoned, fly unzipped, arms crossed over his bare chest and a pout prominently featured on his face.
“Hi love,” Alex greets him breathlessly. He approaches Henry and looks at him through the mirror, his arms encircling Henry’s waist from behind, his musky scent overtaking Henry’s senses. Henry wrinkles his nose and Alex smiles in return, nuzzling his nose into Henry’s neck, breathing deeply and exhaling hot breath against Henry’s skin.
“You should go shower,” Henry greets him, laughing as he squirms away from Alex’s sweaty embrace.
Alex pouts and follows Henry as he retreats to the bed, shedding his jeans as he goes. “Am I not allowed to want a kiss from my fiance first?” He asks as he puckers his lips and follows Henry, who swats at him playfully and pretends to be offended despite deeply enjoying this game. Henry settles onto the edge of the bed and looks up at Alex, who frames his face with both of his large hands. They both settle and Alex presses a swift kiss to Henry’s forehead. “Not feeling the jeans?” he asks lightly as he gestures to the discarded article of clothing.
Alex doesn’t miss the cloud that passes over Henry’s face at the question, and he folds his arms across his chest as his eyes dart over to the pants then back to Alex. He sighs softly and shakes his head, not sure he will be able to vocalize how he’s feeling. “They don’t fit right,” he finally grouses, knowing he sounds like a petulant child who isn’t getting their way. There’s just something about outgrowing your favorite worn-in pair of jeans that’s distressing, though, and Henry is feeling this loss deeply. He looks away from Alex and worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment before casting wide, blue eyes back up at his fiance. “And I might be… feeling a little self conscious about that,” Henry admits sheepishly, as if there’s any reason to feel ashamed of his emotions.
Alex works through those words and Henry watches as worry furrows his brow, then sees his expression turn wicked in the span of seconds. “You have nothing to feel self-conscious about, baby.”
“Says the man who just came back from running on a Saturday morning,” Henry counters, eyebrows raising.
Alex kneels down, pressing himself between Henry’s legs and putting them closer to eye level. Henry’s hands come to rest on Alex’s shoulders, and despite him still being a sweaty, smelly mess, Henry can’t bring himself to complain. He wants Alex to be close to him, to prove to him he’s wrong and all the reasons why.
It’s like Alex can read his mind, because he traces his lips across Henry’s chest, following his collarbones as a guideline, and presses small, pointed kisses across his skin. “I love you exactly how you are, Henry,” Alex says vehemently. His dark eyes look up, searching Henry’s face, and Henry can feel the flush that heats his cheeks as he ducks his gaze and looks down between them, him in only his boxer briefs, Alex in his expensive running shorts. “And I’m going to prove it to you,” he mumbles against Henry’s pale skin as his lips trail lower, pressing against Henry’s stomach in a few different spots. His fingers encircle Henry’s waist, and he presses more kisses lower, along the waistband of Henry’s underwear, across from one hip to the other, a constellation of sweet, loving kisses that sear Henry’s skin lusciously.
His self-consciousness is forgotten in the way Alex’s lips worship him, and Henry’s fingers run through Alex’s damp curls, tugging at them as he sighs out his contentment from the contact.
“Now, are you going to come shower with me, or what?” Alex asks. He stands, and bends to kiss Henry’s lips teasingly, in a way that leaves him hot, bothered, and needing more.