Chapter Text
When Alex’s mom met a British guy and started dating him, Alex didn’t think anything of it, really. Aside from the fact that Leo started spending more time with them than at his rental house in Dallas, it was just like when she’d dated other men after the divorce. He doesn’t now, nor has he ever, wanted to think of his mom in bed with anyone, let alone this tech CEO, or whatever, but considering he still lives at home to save money as he completes his undergrad, he really can’t avoid it at all.
Then, on Christmas morning, with his sister and aunt and uncle and grandparents there in the room, Leo is smiling as Alex’s mom pulls a ring box out of her stocking. He gets down on one knee and asks the question and Alex is happy for them, he is. Leo’s fine. Nice, even. A little stiff in the way he thinks all British people are in his head. Alex is still getting to know him.
His mom moving to England isn’t a thing that crosses his mind at all, until they’re a week from the wedding and he’s on summer break and she tells him Leo has a place in the Cotswolds. A family home. And that she’d like to move there to be with him. It’s where his company is based. He was only in the US for the year and he’s overstaying his visa, or something.
“But your life is here.”
She smiles at him like he’s being naive. “My life is wherever I want it to be.”
And like, his mom has put him through some shit over the years, okay? But it’s stuff like that that reminds him how fucking impressive she is. If she wants something, she makes it happen.
If she wants to move to England, she’ll do that.
He doesn’t even consider going with her, not really, until she shows him not only how close where Leo lives is to Oxford, and a bunch of statistics about how having an education from a well-known international school can help with credibility and employment and all that stuff.
“Are you actually thinking about this?” June asks, making it sound like an accusation, which he doesn’t really appreciate.
“How’s it different from you going to school in California to be closer to dad?”
“It’s an entire ocean and continent away. It’s different.”
It doesn’t feel different to him.
The thing is, he gets into Oxford. It’s easy, actually. Leo went there, and he definitely pulled strings, and Alex should hate that but he doesn’t. There’s something about taking advantage of the system in the same way rich white people get to do that makes him feel like puffing his chest out and announcing his arrival.
He doesn’t have a big going away party. He doesn’t have anyone to invite.
He doesn’t know how it works, but their stuff arrives there before they do. Leo’s company arranges it all. Which should be his first indication that this isn’t fucking normal, but it takes driving up to the house - if it can be called that - for Alex to actually clue in.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, and his mom laughs and turns around in the front seat to look at him. She’s not even telling him off for swearing. He doesn’t know how she’s not freaking out about this. “Uh. Leo?”
“Right, well. This is home.”
Home. Like it’s normal for people to just live in a house that looks like it’s a backup set for Downton Abbey.
As it turns out, Leo’s a literal Lord, or something, and no one decided that was worth Alex knowing. He doesn’t know how this all works - he will figure it out - but Leo’s rich as shit and started this tech company when he was younger after cutting his teeth at his dad’s fancy London consultancy. His dad passed away years ago. Apparently he was always pissed Leo left the family business, but was too polite and English to do anything about it like cut Leo out of the will. Probably because Leo’s an only child.
“You grew up here?” Alex asks the first night at dinner. They’re sitting out on the terrace, cool summer breeze tickling up his arms.
Leo sets down his wine glass. “I did, yes. The whole family was here at the time. Grandmother and my aunt Florence. Two cousins roughly my age. Aunt Flossie’s husband died young in an awful accident.” Alex nods sympathetically. “It was a wonderful childhood. Lots of places to run wild.”
Alex snorts and looks around. The grounds are sprawling and pretty and green. There’s a forest off in the middle distance that seems like it’s probably part of the estate, and Alex can see another huge house off near a hill. Can just barely make out that the lights are on. He wonders where one property ends and the other begins.
“Kinda buried the lede on being the exact kind of rich asshole I rail against in all my tax law classes.”
“Alex,” his mom says, but she’s smiling, which is good. Jesus, she’s spent years making sure people like Leo do their fair share for the greater good. That’s probably why Alex actually trusts Leo, even despite all this shit; his mom wouldn’t be with someone who was morally bankrupt but flush with cash.
“I’m afraid I’m the best of the bunch around here. You’ll see.”
It’s kind of ominous. Alex is almost excited at the prospect of meeting all these rich fucks and telling them exactly what he thinks of them.
… … …
Henry figures Leo is back from America, given the lights are on at the house. Henry’d gone round to Lizzie’s place for cocktails the other night and heard that Leo found himself some American divorcée to marry, did the wedding in Texas, of all places, and is now moving back with her in tow. Henry’s sure that despite his and Leo’s feelings towards one another he’ll meet this woman soon enough.
Leo’s not ever been quite as much of a bachelor as people liked to paint him as, but it is surprising to hear of him settling down. Henry’s given a thought or two to the kind of woman who could catch and keep his attention. The only other one who came close was Lizzie, herself, but she’s been married as long as they’ve known her, and she’d never be unfaithful to Stephen.
He takes his wine bottle and a glass - for propriety’s sake - out to the stables after dinner. The stablehands have already put the horses up for the evening, but Henry likes tending to them, anyway. More for him than it is for them, really.
He smooths his hand down Venturer’s muzzle.
“Hey, boy,” he murmurs. The horse breathes on him and Henry smiles. “Have a good day? I saw you running.” Venturer whickers and nuzzles in closer to Henry’s shoulder. “That’s a good lad.”
He moves on down the line, stops in all the stalls. He applies some manuka honey to a small and mostly healed spot on Velvet’s flank where she got a bit too close to Vagabond and he tried to take a bite out of her. Aptly named, that one.
By the time he’s done, so is the wine. As he’s walking back to the house, he sees all the lights are still on at Chilton Greene. He continues on walking. That’s none of his businesses.
The dogs greet him excitedly when he walks into the house and closes the door heavily behind him, locking it so it’s just him and the dogs inside. He fusses them for an appropriate amount of time, drops the bottle off in the kitchen, then goes to get ready for bed. He’s got a message from Langdon, telling him last night was phenomenal and he wants to get on his knees for Henry again. It’s too good and easy an offer to pass up, so he fires back a reply and invites Langdon over in the afternoon. Falls asleep alone in the middle of his bed and wakes up the same way.
His life as a retired polo player and sometimes sports commentator has earned him some notoriety. He works the Olympics. They sometimes trot him out for Wimbledon. He attends football matches. If he weren’t so gay or so terribly rich and entitled, he’s sure he’d be relegated off into obscurity. His last names don’t hurt things, either.
As it is, he’s got enough money to last four lifetimes - part of it earned, part of it inherited - and he lives here in the countryside in his grandmother’s favourite home even long after her death just because he knows it’d piss her off to see him here. Something about sucking a man’s cock in the room where she used to take her tea and tell him he’s a disgrace feels like winning.
When Langdon arrives, he’s got a bottle of chilled Moet and a cheeky look on his face, says something about going for a ride. He means taking out a couple of horses, which Henry appreciates, and so they lope off into the forest, passing the bottle back and forth between them, until they stop by the stream and tie the horses loosely around a tree branch. It doesn’t take long before he and Langdon get carried away, undressed and catching their breath after getting one another off. Langdon wraps his lips around the bottle and Henry watches and doesn’t consider getting his clothes back on.
There’s the sound of footsteps and the snap of twigs under feet, and Henry only just barely grabs for his shirt to cover himself from the waist down.
“Oh, fuck me,” a man says, looking Henry and Langdon up and down, then going wide eyed. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Henry, not quite enjoying having a sexual encounter interrupted ever, and certainly not by some boy he’s never seen before, feels his expression turn cross.
“Are you lost?”
“I think? I mean, no. I…” He turns around, finally, averting his gaze. Henry remembers Langdon is there and watches him step into his trousers. “Sorry. I was out for a walk. I didn’t realize this isn’t Leo’s woods, or whatever.”
Henry can’t help if his eyes slide down over the man’s beautiful backside. He’s really quite pretty. Henry knows he’s a cad for thinking that when he can literally still taste another man on his tongue.
“It’s certainly not. Who the hell are you?”
“His step-son.”
Oh.
Christ. He’s practically a child.
“Have him draw you a bloody map, then,” Henry says, and then the boy spins around, ire on his face, only he seems to be shocked that Henry’s still not dressed and looks Henry up and down again. “What’s your name?”
“What, so you can blacklist me?” Absurd. Henry just stares at him, unmoving, until the boy answers. “Alex.”
“Alex,” Henry tries. Feels nice. Notably, Langdon hasn’t said a fucking word. He’s out, but he doesn’t broadcast it. Henry’s sure this feels scary, or something. “Tell you what. You don’t tell anyone what you saw here, and I won’t tell anyone about your tendency to trespass.”
“Hey, fuck you,” Alex bites out, then shoves a hand into his hair like he’s fixing for a fight. It’s, if Henry’s being quite honest with himself, stunning. Alex is gorgeous. And he carries himself like he doesn’t know it. “It’s not like you’ve got signs around the perimeter stating that a pompous asshole lives here.”
Henry tilts his head and shifts the hand holding his shirt over his crotch. Alex’s gaze drops again to look, but then glances all the way down at his sneakers.
“Do we have a deal, angel?”
Alex glances up again at the name like he thinks Henry’s being condescending. Which he is.
“Fine.”
Alex turns to walk away. Langdon scoffs and finishes buttoning his shirt. Henry’s just watching the boy go and wondering why Alex never asked who Henry is at all.
… … …
Alex bangs into the kitchen with his blood still boiling, only to find Leo there in his sensible button down even though it’s a Sunday and they’ve had nothing to do.
It’s not like Alex has ever confided in Leo - they’re not there yet - but this doesn’t feel like that.
And anyway, Leo asks, “Everything all right, Alex?”
Alex pulls a coffee mug down out of the cupboard and narrows his eyes.
“I went for a walk. Ran into some guy with horses who was a complete dick.”
“Ah,” Leo says, sipping his tea. “That’ll be Henry.”
Henry. Whoever the fuck that is. The guy with the beautiful body and face and apparently no shame or fucking manners.
Alex had had to turn around so he didn’t stare.
And it’s not like staring at men is a new thing for him. He’s been doing it for a while. Wanting men for a while. He’s come to terms with who he is, even if he’s never said it out loud. Even if he’s only acted on it with people he knew wouldn’t say anything or ask many questions.
“Well, Henry’s the absolute worst.”
Leo laughs. “I’ve always thought so.” Alex watches, waiting. Interested. “Oh, he’s just a bit of an obnoxious prick. Always good at everything he’s ever done, and he knows it. He’ll also snog any man who asks for it, regardless of their marital status. It’s never quite sat right.”
Alex thinks about what he witnessed. Henry with a man somewhere between his age and Alex’s own. Wonders, without meaning to, how Henry got the guy off.
“Well, I didn’t like meeting him. Tell me he’s not coming to the party.”
Leo makes a face. “I’m afraid he will be there. Half the invitees are only on the list because it would be social and political suicide not to invite them.”
Alex rolls his eyes, smiling. He gets it. He also knows his mom is thrilled to be having this big reception and meeting all the people Leo has apparently told her about.
“I’ll do my best, but it’s gonna be really hard to be polite to all these people.”
Leo laughs, pats him on the shoulder good naturedly. “I understand completely.”
Alex has a lot to do, actually. Aside from getting accustomed to life in a new country, he’s actually got to work every day to not get lost in this fucking house. And that’s a small piece of it. He’s in talks with Oxford almost daily about things like payment schedules, courses, credit transfers, on-campus opportunities, the international students’ resources.
He’s also practicing driving on the correct side of the road in hopes that by the time he starts classes, he’ll be able to drive himself safely to the university and not die in a fiery crash.
He’s guiding one of Leo’s many cars - a Lexus hybrid he’s essentially given Alex - slowly down the driveway coming back from a short but terrifying drive on the quiet roads around the manor - when he sees a woman who isn’t his mom or any of the regular staff he’s now met. She’s got a tote bag over her shoulder, curly auburn hair, and sensible sandals on her feet.
He rolls down the window.
“Oh hello!” she greets happily, offering a little wave. “I’m Lizzie. I live in the cottage just over there.” She points vaguely over her shoulder and Alex smiles politely. “I’ve just come round to introduce myself to Leo’s new wife and step-son. Would that happen to be you, love?”
Jesus Christ, she’s like, a marshmallow and he likes her immediately.
“Yeah, I’m Alex. Really nice to meet you. Enter at your own risk, but do you want a ride the rest of the way?”
It’s like, a few hundred meters up the driveway. He’s sure he can get them there safely.
Lizzie slides gracefully into the passenger seat and he can make out that there’s a bottle of wine and what looks like a container of some sort in her tote bag.
She’s chatty, which is nice. Distracting in a good way from turning the correct way around the circle in the driveway by the house as practice, and parking in the garage without taking the mirrors off.
She’s known Leo forever. Since their twenties, she says, when she met and married and moved up here. Apparently her husband is a lawyer and works with ‘all sorts ‘round here’. They’ve got two teenagers - one who wants to be an artist, and the other who’s planning a move to London next year to study history, if he gets into the school he’s hoping for.
Alex learns all this before they even wander into the kitchen, where his mom’s dicing potatoes for some reason.
“This is our neighbour, Lizzie,” he introduces.
His mom wipes her hands and Lizzie says, “Hiya,” all politely. “I baked some biscuits, and brought over some wine.”
She pulls the container out of her bag. It’s got what looks suspiciously like cookies inside.
“Well,” his mom says, reaching for the wine. “Thank you so much. That’s so kind. Let’s have a glass.”
They end up killing the bottle and then another between the three of them. Lizzie’s cheeks go pink after her first glass. His mom’s making some kind of stew, but she’s also yapping with their new neighbour, and if Alex has ever known anything about his mom, it’s that she is charming and can make a lot of acquaintances but not a lot of friends. Maybe that could change here. So he takes over the cooking and smiles as they all chat and learn about one another.
When Leo comes home, he smiles all wide and says, “Hello, darlings,” kisses Alex’s mom, then drops a kiss to Lizzie’s cheek in greeting as well. “What’s all this, then?”
Somehow, they end up talking about the party and guest list. Lizzie mentions Henry’d confirmed to her that he’s coming.
“Ah, Henry,” Leo says, mouth full of shortbread. He looks at Alex. “Alex had a run in with him last week. Apparently Henry made an appropriate impression to give a sense of his character.”
Lizzie sucks her teeth, swats at his arm, and says, “Oh, stop. He’s misunderstood.”
Alex, despite himself, really wants to know why she thinks so.
What he says instead is, “No, I think I got the gist of it.”
Cock out in the woods with a man in the middle of the day, snarky attitude, deadly grin.
Alex knows what he needs to know.
… … …
The issue with Leo’s step-son is he’s a pretty little thing with the ability to steal attention and socialize and talk to everyone in the room.
Everyone in the room except Henry, apparently.
And Henry has never been good at resisting temptation. It’s part of the reason the man of the hour doesn’t like him very much. Something about morals. As if it’s Henry’s fault he sleeps with married men on occasion and not the fault of those men for being willing partners.
And so when he spots Alex by the bar, he makes his way over, winks at Aaron Huxley, Anita’s delinquent son who’s been hired by a catering company, at long last. Anita is very proud of him. Henry thinks that’s fucking sad.
“Hello, Alex.”
“Henry.” Alex pulls his shoulders back and Henry smiles at him.
“You’ve asked about me, then.”
Alex spins round on him. “What?”
Henry takes his drink off the bar and has a sip. “Well, I’d not told you my name, darling. So someone has.”
Alex scoffs. “Yeah, I asked Leo who he thought was the biggest prick around here and he said you.”
It’s a lie. Alex looks remarkable telling it. He’s amusing.
“That’s cute.” Alex narrows his eyes and opens his mouth like he’s about to lay into Henry yet again. Henry's heart races as he anticipates it.
But then dinner is announced, and they make their way through to the formal dining room. Alex slips through the crowd with the ease of an extrovert - something that Henry, for all his bluster, is certainly not - and sits next to who Henry assumes is his mother. A beautiful woman with a pretty ivory dress on who slips her arm around him and says something that makes him smile.
Christ.
He’s a boy. There with his mummy even as he sips scotch.
Henry tips back his drink and watches.
Lizzie appears at his elbow and says, “Isn’t she lovely?”
Henry nods instead of pretending Ellen is the one who has his attention.
Ellen is lovely. Henry meets her after dessert. Leo introduces her, and Henry has to give Leo credit, he never acts in a crowd as though he hates Henry. It’s rather impressive, really.
“Have you met my son?” Ellen asks after a while, with all the air of someone who actually very well knows the answer to the question.
“Not officially,” Henry says, mostly consumed with curiosity for how Alex will react. How he’ll look at Henry.
They’ve not been introduced. Henry isn’t lying.
Alex, when his mother calls him over to do just that, seems like he’d like to argue, but instead just gives Henry a hard look (it isn’t nearly as discouraging as Alex likely hopes) and says, “We’ve met, in passing.”
Henry is perfectly appropriate and charming while speaking with Ellen, even not allowing himself to get distracted by the way Alex lets his tongue slide over his bottom lip after he takes a sip of his drink.
Henry is a simple man. He sees someone he wants, and he allows them to consume him completely until he’s done with them.
… … …
Leo’s half brother owns a restaurant in the nearest town. Alex doesn’t know all the details, but apparently Kit is the product of an affair his dad had in Paris with some woman in the 90s, so he’s younger and it was a whole thing. It really feels like none of Alex’s business. He’s just interested in eating good food outside the house. God, he’d kill for Chipotle. His mom gives him a look when he says that, but he’s not lying.
Kit is…
Well.
Kit is hot.
Kit kisses everyone’s cheeks and smells like fresh bread and pushes his hand through his hair like it’s a habit and he knows it makes him look good.
The food is delicious and just as they’re leaving, Alex sees Henry walk in and sidle up to the bar, slide a hand across it and reach to pinch Kit in the hip. Kit spins around and laughs, rolls his eyes and shoves gently at Henry’s cheek even as Henry laughs.
“Ah yes. Kit’s made a lot of good choices. But also, he’s mates with Henry,” Leo explains.
Alex’s mom says, “Be nice.”
Alex notices the way Henry looks the man next to him up and down, leans into his space and starts talking to him, all his actions full of intent.
… … …
Henry buries his cock deep inside the man who takes him home, and he doesn’t think much about the way Alex had looked seated at the table with his mother and Leo. Relaxed. Easy. Licking creme brûlée off the back of a spoon. Hadn’t even noticed Henry there in the restaurant.
“Harder,” the man whines.
Henry snaps his hips, shoves his hands down against the man’s back harder.
“Quiet,” he says, hoping he can imagine an American accent instead when he closes his eyes.
… … …
Alex lies out by the pool in a lot of swim shorts he probably wouldn’t wear back home. They’re a little…tight and short and revealing. But Leo’s at work for the day, and Alex’s mom is meeting someone for lunch about joining the board of a nonprofit. She starts her job next week, regional VP of Policy at a clean water B Corp. It’s impressive. Alex is proud of her.
He also likes the time alone in the house. You wouldn’t think one would need to search far or wide for quiet time in a sprawling estate like this. As it is, his bedroom suite - complete with bathroom and a sitting room he’s turned into a bit of an office space - a literal four minute walk from where his mom and Leo sleep. But it’s nice to have the place to himself. To be a lazy student off for the summer. To lie in the sun, even though it’s not as hot as he wants it to be, and hope his skin gets a bit darker because he likes it that way.
He’s not expecting to hear hoof beats.
He sits up, sees a horse with no saddle on, just a bridle with no reigns. The horse stops at the low stone fence and rears back. Alex didn’t really ever think about how a horse could look anxious, but this one does.
He thinks about something Lizzie said, about Henry caring more about horses and dogs than he does his reputation, or something. And it’s not a given that this is Henry’s horse, but it kind of stands to reason. And if he’s someone who knows about horses and this one isn’t his, he might at least know who it belongs to.
Alex slips his short sleeved button down shirt over his shoulders and tries to go closer. The horse looks at him dubiously, and Alex realizes that even if he can get close, he has no way of leading the horse anywhere. So he runs into the kitchen and the closest thing he can find to something that might work is kitchen twine.
It’s a fucking production getting some of the twine looped around the bridle so he can maybe hope to guide the horse along. She’s scared, he can tell, and she keeps sort of skittering sideways when he touches her. He encourages her, though. Says things like, “Shh, shh. I know. Be cool.”
He grabs a slice of apple off the plate he brought out and feeds it to her, smiles when she shoves herself up against his shoulder.
When he starts walking in the direction of Henry’s house, he doesn’t have to hold the twine tightly or pull on it. She just follows him.
Somewhere around halfway, just as Alex is walking through the woods, Alex hears some movement and then around the corner comes Henry atop a light brown horse, three beagles running along with him, keeping up.
“Valour,” Henry breathes, dismounting so easily it makes Alex…
Well, it’s hot. Easy. Like Henry’s done that a million times. Alex grew up in Texas - this isn’t his first time around horses. But he’s not that practiced. He’s been trying not to learn anything about Henry, but he knows Leo said something about polo, and Alex knows a little about that, so it’s easy to understand how Henry got this way. It’s very much not the point at the moment. Alex should stop thinking about it.
“She was spying on me,” Alex says, which is fucking stupid.
Henry kneels down to look over her front quarters, but glances up at Alex. Alex realizes his shirt is still open. Henry's eyes linger. Alex doesn’t pay attention to that.
“One of the hands must’ve left the pasture gate open. Three of them wandered out. She’s so—” He stops, stands up, gives Alex a look. “She’s skittish with people. Won’t even let the hands bridle her. I have to do it.”
Alex, still holding the kitchen twine loosely in his hand, feels weird about this.
“I um.” But what is there to say? He looks at the horse - Valour, apparently - and scratches gently at her cheek, watching Henry’s face go all impressed and happy. “I guess she likes me?”
“Yes,” Henry says, voice a little choked. “Quite.”
Okay, well.
“Anyway.” Alex shoves the twine at Henry, tries to ignore the way his tan pants and loose white button down look on him.
“Thank you,” Henry says, looping two fingers easily under Valour’s cheek piece. Watching the leather stretch over Henry’s fingers is… “I appreciate it.”
Alex nods, and Henry walks off, dogs hopping to attention and the other horse moving aside so they can all make their way back down the path.
Alex thinks absolutely nothing of the way Henry says, “Don’t scare me like that, girl,” to the horse.
… … …
Unfortunately, Henry is deeply interested in the fucking 20 year old.
He would have been even if Alex hadn’t somehow managed to get Valour back home. Using a bit of twine and calm energy, it seems. Christ, that’s to say nothing of the way he’d looked. Bare chested and with shorts that made Henry want to get onto his knees then and there.
Whatever foot they’d gotten off on that first day, Henry thinks perhaps Alex might’ve seen Henry in a different light with Valour. God, he’d been worried sick, knowing she doesn’t tend to appreciate people, and that if someone tried to reach for her and she reacted poorly…
He doesn’t want to think about it. He can’t stop thinking about Alex stood next to her with a length of bloody kitchen twine as a lead when Henry’s handsomely paid trainers struggle to pull her off towards the paddock.
Henry had seen it, too, the way Alex had looked at him when he’d taken over, muttered words to her that Henry knows she can’t actually understand. He’s nearly certain he could’ve offered Alex an invitation to come with them and the boy would’ve said yes.
Henry can’t do that. Not because of who Alex is or how they met or any other such thing.
It’s just… Henry barely knows Alex but wants to. Has heard from Lizzie that Alex is driven, a hard worker, prone to boredom and therefore action, and has talked to her about his studies and what he wants to do with his life.
Henry has never met anyone less concerned with status or celebrity or money or any of the rest of the banal bullshit that fills Henry’s days. Rather than that making him uncomfortable, he’s so bloody intrigued by it he feels there’s no reason not to get closer.
Not even a 20 year age difference.
He’s drinking with Kit because drinking with Kit is one of his favourite activities that doesn’t (usually) involve nudity. They happen to be at Hannah’s birthday party. And the only reason Henry is here is he thought there was a chance Alex might be. As it turns out, he was right. Alex is just across the lawn in a white shirt and tan pants, belt around his hips, sunglasses on.
Kit makes a sound, downs the rest of his champagne.
“Interesting,” he notes, having clearly caught Henry staring.
Henry isn’t going to acknowledge that.
“This party is dreadful. Heaven forbid Hannah splurge on some entertainment.”
“Hannah’s a gossip,” Kit says needlessly. “People talking is the entertainment. I saw Brandon and Sarah sneak off to the garden shed.” Henry rolls his eyes. That’s not even gossip, it’s just fact that those two will run off together for a bit of fun. Brandon and Sarah’s respective spouses are chatting by the finger sandwiches. “You could at least pretend you didn’t just come to ogle the kid.”
Henry would like to argue that Alex isn’t a kid, but is very well aware that would mean he knows what Kit is talking about.
“Who?” Kit laughs and points, which is dreadful behaviour, and Henry glares at him. “It’s nothing.”
Kit tilts his head. “Henry, mon ami, your nothings usually require lubricant and condoms.”
That’s funny, so Henry can’t help laughing. And fuck it. Anyone with eyes can see Alex is beautiful. Kit has commented on it before. After a dinner round Leo’s on a Sunday, he’d stopped in for a kip and mentioned Alex’s looks, in an off handed, factual sort of manner.
“I’ve fucked 20 year olds before,” Henry says, which gets no reaction whatsoever from Kit. “I’ve just never liked one.”
Kit makes a sound, grabs another glass of champagne off a tray. “Leo may actually be pissed at you for that.”
Henry's brows come together, incredulous. “Why? It’s not his kid.”
Kit regards him for a moment like he’s piecing something together, then shakes his head and says, “Well,” and claps Henry on the shoulder, “good luck with that, I suppose.”
Henry rarely ever needs luck.
… … …
The end of Alex’s third week at Oxford, Leo hosts a dinner party at their place. It’s a Saturday, and Alex had gone to campus for a change of scenery and, honestly, something to do. When Alex gets home, it seems the party is in full swing. He lowkey wants to grab a beer and head to his room, put on a movie and some sweatpants and fall asleep with his laptop across his thighs.
The thing is, when he’s walking past the first floor library (because there are libraries on all the floors, naturally) he notices the door slightly open and a light on inside. He’d have thought everyone would be in the formal sitting room by now for after-dinner drinks.
When he peers inside, he sees Henry leaning back against the table in the middle of the room, head tipped back, mouth open. On his knees in front of Henry is another man. Alex doesn’t know who he is, or if he does, can’t recognize him from this angle - just the back of his head as he sucks Henry off. He does know there’s a wedding ring on the hand firmly pressed to Henry’s bare hip, and that Henry isn’t married, so.
Alex should keep walking and forget he’s seen this. He shouldn’t say anything, or stand here, or watch. It’s just that the way Henry sounds, the way he looks, is…
Henry tilts his head downward, then looks up to the door like he’s simply making sure he and whoever this guy is are still in the clear. The problem is, they’re not. Alex is there. Looking. Watching.
Their eyes meet. Alex is fucking frozen in place, mortified. But all Henry does is slip a hand into the guy’s hair, then start thrusting his hips, fucking the guy’s face while his eyes are still locked with Alex’s.
Alex, after a moment, after he realizes he’s fucking hard in his chinos, turns and walks as quickly as he can to the far staircase that’ll take him upstairs and away from anything to do with this party.
He feels fucking dirty and ashamed of the way he shoves his pants down and braces one hand on his mattress as he jerks off and fails not to think about what he’s just watched.
… … …
“Alex,” Henry says from atop his horse. A black one. Alex hasn’t seen it before. He wonders how many Henry has, though it couldn’t matter less.
He’s just out for a run. He’d gotten back from campus after a class went long, and he found himself full of pent up energy and in need of fresh air, so he’s killing two birds with one stone. He still has no idea where the boundaries between one property and the other are. Though now that he knows that while Henry is more or less the fucking worst, he’s also mostly harmless.
Or. Well.
He’s not going to do anything. Maybe if Alex were married he’d be more of a target.
He’s being an asshole.
“Hey.” He’s out of breath, pulls one AirPod from his ear and puts his hands on his hips over his quarter zip running shirt. “How are you?”
Henry grins, looking down. “I’m well. Enjoying the views?”
Oh, Alex wants to scream. That’s a fucking absurd thing to say. They could’ve just forgotten it.
“They’re fine,” he deadpans.
Henry looks beautiful when he tips his head back and laughs.
“You’re funny, darling.”
Alex feels that his face is hot from his run, so at least Henry won’t see him blushing.
“What are you doing?”
Henry slides a hand down his horse’s main fondly. “Exercising Vector. He’s just gotten new shoes.”
Okay. Right. The problem is, Alex doesn’t know what to do with any of this. What to say or how to act. And he remembers he doesn’t actually have to stand here and deal with that.
“Enjoy,” Alex says, popping his AirPod back in.
He runs away.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
… … …
Henry goes off to a polo tournament in Connecticut and spends a week there - days before and after to stretch things out and network a bit. He’s doing coverage for the television station, then he’s booked on a couple podcasts.
Then he stops in New York for a couple days on a whim because he loves it there and it’s home to a few of his favourite gay clubs in the world. Gets thoroughly fucked by a man named Gavin who Henry had barely a conversation with but enjoyed nonetheless.
His first day back, he spends it in bed with various combinations of dogs coming and going. He’s not particularly jetlagged, but he also has nowhere to be until his phone rings again with another offer of work, really. And he’d never admit it even if someone asked, but he hates it. Feeling useless. Like no one wants him for much at all until they can trot him out for a bit of colour commentary.
He’s invited to a dreadful party at the head of the studio’s house. Last time he was there, he met Langdon. Now that he’s bored of the man, he knows he’ll have to see him and he’s sure Langdon will be unable to act as though they’re just two adults who’ve seen one another naked and then decided not to do that any longer.
But he’s pleasantly surprised when it’s a small, intimate group. Lord Wellesley has been trying to get Henry on the board at the network for a year, and this seems to be just another attempt to do so.
Now, they’re playing into his dislike of Leo Fitzroy.
“I’m not saying he’s a sucker, but I am saying that his new wife’s ex-husband is a bit of a bum, it seems.”
Henry doesn’t know Ellen well, but he’d bet there’s no way she’s ever have married someone like that. He’s still curious.
“Oh?”
“Well, I looked into him,” Colin says, practically giddy. The thing Henry doesn’t know is why Colin would do that. Unless he’s also courting Leo for a board position and needs to understand who the man has married. “Apparently he’s got a halfway decent track record in public service, but a terrible one with money. He rents a condo in San Diego.”
Henry isn’t so much of a rich twat that he thinks renting a home means you’re less than.
Everyone at the table seems positively giddy, though, and Henry does like that he’s in demand for this role. Likes what it’ll pay him, and the status that’ll come along with it.
“So what’s your hypothesis here?”
Colin shrugs smugly. “Two college aged children, and now one of them gets to go to Oxford. Who do you think’s paying for that?”
Henry is annoyed Colin actually wants an answer. “Leo.”
“Bingo. And she’s taken a job at a little company. Likely just to keep busy. Can’t be adding much if anything to the pot.”
Henry shouldn’t care about any of this. He shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s none of his business.
It’s just that he’s never particularly cared for Leo - rather, they feel similarly about one another - and Henry, after this many glasses of wine, wonders if he likes the idea that this woman married Leo solely for money and to take advantage of him. If he likes what that says about Leo and what it says about Henry, who’s always been sensible enough not to settle down.
… … …
“If I’d known coming here would’ve meant this many boring ass parties, I’d have asked to go live with Dad.”
His mom knows he’s joking, thankfully, so all she does is pinch his cheek and say, “Don’t be a jackass.” He’s pulling his jacket on, which he’s more than capable of doing himself, but she still reaches for his collar and fusses with it like he’s a child. He lets her do it. “A lot of investors from Leo’s company are going to be here. This is important.”
He grins. “More important than some of the dumb garden parties in the summer?”
She has a twinkle in her eye. “More important than all of those.” He laughs. “You should’ve invited someone from school as a plus one.”
He groans out, “Mom,” because he’s 20, and she’s talking about him like he’s got to find a wife.
The truth is, he hasn’t really connected with too many people. He’s got some acquaintances, some people who invite him to parties on campus that’re a lot better than the ones he goes to with his mom and Leo. It’s just tough because he always has to drive there, so he can only enjoy himself so much before being the most sober person there is awful. And none of those relationships are rich or deep anyway. It’s hard, he thinks, for people to get past the fact that he’s American and sounds like it. That he’s brown. And that he’s smarter than a lot of them and works harder than the rest.
“I just think you’d have more fun.”
He decides to go for it. “You could just let me stay home.”
She gives him a look. “You can do whatever you like, kiddo, but you staying home alone on a Saturday night on FaceTime with your sister and her girlfriend doesn’t exactly make me worry less.”
His brow furrows. “What are you worried about?”
“I don’t want you to be lonely. I want you to have people you like being around.”
Jesus, hearing that from his mom a few months into what’s supposed to be a fresh start is humbling.
It’s not that he’s not trying. He is. He does want to make friends and get close to people. He just doesn’t really know how to connect. Or rather, he knows how, but he gets single-minded and focused and intense and he knows that’s off-putting. People don’t wanna go grab dinner with the guy who can’t stop talking about property law or the differences in the immigration systems between here and America. Even if those topics interest them, too, Alex is bad at remembering he should be trying to get to know people. Not to mention the fact that in the past, he’s lost friends because he got caught up reading or studying and forgot about plans.
It’s not like, traumatic, or whatever, but it does always make him worry he’s not good at this. Not good at all. Alex is bad at not being good at things. He really needs the validation. At first he thought it was that he needed to know he’s better than everyone else, but that’s not really it. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not that simple, he knows that much.
He wandering through the party - a bigger guest list than usual, because this one’s in a bigger house - after slipping off to the bathroom and then hanging around in the kitchen with the caterers for a minute to at least be somewhere no one wanted to talk to him. Everyone seems to know he goes to Oxford and wants to talk about his studies, but it’s a Saturday and he wants to talk about school about as much as he wants to run a marathon barefoot right now.
When he heads back into the large sitting room, he’s scanning the crowd to find his mom or Leo so he can fit himself into a conversation with someone at least familiar.
But then he hears from behind him, “I suppose, though, that if you’d like to have your entire life furnished by a bloke who’d never notice being taken advantage of, Leo Fitzroy is an appropriate target. She can’t be blamed.”
Alex spins around and sees the small group. Three people he’s never met before, and Henry.
Henry, who’s just said this fucked up thing about Alex’s mom so carelessly it hurts.
“What did you just say?” Alex asks indignantly, even though he heard every word.
Henry doesn’t even look ashamed. Looks almost bored.
“Easy does it, poppet.”
Oh, absolutely fucking not. Alex doesn’t even mind if Henry’s condescending to him; that’s nearly expected. But he’s not going to allow someone to say shit about his mom.
“Just because you can’t conceive of someone actually loving you, that doesn’t mean other people can’t find happiness that way.”
It might not be the most eloquently he’s ever made a point - and it’s probably a little mean, and almost definitely projecting - but given the way the other people in this little group are ducking their heads with some level of shame, it’s at least effective.
“I didn’t say there’s anything wrong with marrying for money,” Henry argues. Which, while factually true, is a weak fucking response.
“You know how it sounds to imply someone’s a gold digger. What that says about their character. My mom isn’t like that.” Fuck, that sounds childish. He needs to end this and get the fuck out of here. He pulls his shoulders back. “I know you have a hard time keeping things out of your mouth, but don’t talk about people you know nothing about.”
He storms away full of anxiety and the surge of adrenaline makes him feel like he’s freezing cold. He’s sure more than just a few people heard that. And as he’s having Leo’s driver take him home, the only thing he’s really able to focus on is the hint of a smile he saw on Henry’s lips before walking off.
… … …
For days all he does is appreciate the memory of the way Alex’s eyes had held fire as he spoke. The way he’d been so confident in his argument against Henry, and the way he properly defended someone he loves, like they deserve it. Like he could never have just stood and said nothing.
It was remarkable. Henry’s not used to that. Others too polite or worried about connections to speak up against something they disagreed with or found wrong.
It takes Lizzie mentioning it to him to realize that of course Alex was justified, but the issue is that Henry’d said anything in the first place.
“This was very badly done, Henry,” she says, all disappointment.
So he considers that, too. What he gets out of gossip or spreading things that might even be true, but are technically none of his business. Thinks about being a child and hearing of his movie star father’s rumoured affairs - none of which actually happened - and wishing people had just kept their mouths closed. Even if it had been the truth that his father was unfaithful, what’s then the point of anyone gabbing about it at a society party?
Is all pointless. Henry hates that he lost sight of that.
He owes Alex an apology.
… … …
Two days before Christmas, there’s a wrapped present on the table in the kitchen, Leo there with coffee and the paper saying, “This came for you.”
Alex smiles as he opens it after pouring himself a cup of coffee, too.
Inside the brown paper with their address on it, there’s a typed notecard. It just reads ‘Alex. Forgive me.’
Kind of confusing, but not really. He and his dad had a fight last week about Alex not going back to the States for Christmas, and it turned into a whole yelling match, with Alex saying it’s rich his dad was talking about someone not coming to see him, when he never travelled even a few states over to see his kids and always expected them to come to him.
Anyway. Even if the apology is barebones, it’s still nice to receive.
He opens the box and inside, there’s a beautiful gold bracelet. It’s really quite pretty. Catches the light hanging above the table and shimmers when Alex runs his fingers over it.
“Well,” Leo says, brows up. “Who’s that from?”
“My dad,” Alex says.
He feels a way about Leo helping him fasten the bracelet on his wrist, but it also feels weirdly poetic and appropriate.
There’s a Christmas Eve party, because of course there is. It’s black tie, and Alex owns a tux now, was given a tutorial by the tailor on how to tie a bow tie but still needs to watch a YouTube video to get it right anyway.
By the time they’re pulling up to Henry’s house, Alex’s anxiety has settled in deep in his gut.
He’s been trying not to think about Henry. Not when Lizzie came to him and tried to talk to him about how Henry just doesn’t think sometimes. Alex argued that Henry doesn’t have to think because no one ever has him face consequences for his actions.
And then when his mom found out, she’d hugged him and thanked him but reminded him she doesn’t need him to fight her battles for her, and she’s known all along people would say she’s marrying Leo for his money, and as long as the important people know it’s not true, she doesn’t care about the rest.
Henry’s by the door greeting people as they come in. He looks fucking gorgeous in his tux, all classic and clean lines and looking exactly like it was made for him.
“Ellen,” he says warmly, and it almost makes Alex's blood boil to see Henry treat her so kindly after talking about her the way he had. He kisses her cheeks in greeting. “You’re looking lovely.”
She thanks him, and Leo shakes his hand and pats his shoulder, and then there’s Alex.
“Hello. Welcome,” Henry says, small smile on his face like Alex’s discomfort is amusing to him. “Please come through. There’s food and drinks in the ballroom.”
The reminder that Henry’s rich enough that his house has a legitimate ballroom is enough to make Alex push his feet forward and away from the man.
Alex finds Lizzie easily enough. She looks pretty in her blue dress and he tells her so. She fusses with the fabric at her hips like she’s uncomfortable.
He asks her to dance. She’s laughing when he takes her hand. Other people are dancing, even though he’s pretty sure it isn’t yet time for it - they haven’t even had dinner yet - but he sways with her to some slow song or whatever, and she’s telling him he’s a good sort. Stephen is nearby smiling at his wife, and when the song is over, Alex makes a big show of putting her hand back in her husband’s. She laughs and says, “You’re a darling boy,” and kisses his cheek. He likes it. He likes her. She’s like the aunt he’s never had.
He’s between his mom and Lacey Peckham at dinner. Lacey is a 50 year old divorcee who did very well when she split from her cheating husband. Her kid went to Oxford and is now a doctor in York, and all she ever wants to talk about is men’s tennis. Alex can think of worse people to sit next to for an hour and a half.
Later, Alex is sitting on a sofa along the side of the room while people dance and get more and more drunk. He’s got his forearm resting on the arm of the sofa, a glass of mulled wine in the other hand, resting on his knee. The person he was chatting to - whose name he’s already forgotten - just got up and he’s enjoying a moment alone.
Then he hears, “You got my gift.”
He turns and looks up towards the voice, and it’s Henry, standing there in front of him, smiling prettily.
“What?” he asks, brow furrowed.
And instead of just sitting on the couch next to Alex, Henry kneels down at Alex’s side and slips a long finger underneath the bracelet Alex has peeking out from beneath his shirtsleeve.
Oh, my god.
“I’ve always felt apologies should come with gifts.” Alex is just staring at him. The implications here. That Henry gave him this means his dad didn’t. “Do you accept my apology, angel?”
Alex feels like he might fucking cry. He’s not thinking about Henry, really. He’s thinking about everything else. His dad hasn’t sent him anything, then. And when Alex texted to say he was sorry, too, and thanked him for the gift, his dad didn't correct him. He just let Alex believe he’d apologized and sent something.
So he mutters out, “Yeah,” and nods his head because honestly he just doesn’t have any fight left in him right now.
“Good,” Henry says, then nods once, like some kind of full stop on their conflict.
When he gets home, he takes the bracelet off for the first time since he put it on, and flops into bed. He lasts about 10 minutes of constant thought of Henry’s eyes, kind and intent on him, sincere with his apology.
It takes him a second to fumble with the clasp in the dark and fasten the bracelet again, but he manages.
… … …
Henry feels like a fool for how he walks on air for a full two days. One of the stable hands - a fat Christmas bonus in an envelope in his hand (which Henry would’ve given anyway, but the way it feels is different this year) - says Henry’s rich with Christmas spirit.
That isn’t it. He is, frankly, ignoring the fact that it’s a little sad that a 20-year-old looking at him like that had brought about this change in him.
He can’t help himself. Alex is good and beautiful and seems to see right through Henry in a way that is bloody terrifying, but thrilling, too. He feels he’s waited his whole life for someone to see him. He thinks if anyone’s done it before, it wasn’t nearly this compelling.
There’s always a polo match between Christmas and New Years. He has a daft fantasy of inviting Alex to join as his guest, even though he’ll be working the whole time. Ultimately he does not follow through on this. Alex would say no. They don’t know one another. Henry’s simply…
Infatuated.
He’s never met someone who’s made him feel like this before.
The next time he sees Alex it’s when he’s driving through town. Alex is walking with someone Henry doesn’t actually know, which he finds odd and also irritating. Rather, it makes him feel envious, a feeling he hates but would also freely admit if anyone asked.
Alex is holding a coffee cup in his hand and has an orange ball cap on, curls at the back of his neck a temptation all their own. The girl he’s with is pretty in a classic, bland sort of way. Henry may have less than zero interest in women, but he knows what men like in them simply from being exposed to so much locker room and members’ only club talk over the years.
And why shouldn’t Alex be with some young thing? Someone his age. As young as him. Someone to practice and learn with.
God, but the things Henry wants Alex to learn from him. He won’t make assumptions as to Alex’s sexuality, and he’s long past assuming everyone is straight until proven otherwise. Rather, he usually tries not to think about it at all until it becomes something he should know. Like when a man is slinking to his knees, is taking his trousers off.
Alex is the first person in a long time Henry has hoped is interested enough in men to come to bed with Henry.
There’s really just the not inconsequential issue that they’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, really. Even he doesn’t believe that a simple apology and a beautiful piece of jewelry will erase all the unpleasant encounters they’ve had so far.
He’ll just have to keep working at it.
Lizzie hosts a small thing for New Year’s Eve. Just a few close friends, she says, and so Henry knows that’ll include Leo and likely Ellen. He’s sure Alex won’t be there, since he’s 20 and has other friends and certainly other things to do.
He brings a case of champagne from the cellar, unprompted, because he’s feeling generous and he knows it’s Lizzie’s favourite. He doesn’t believe there wouldn’t be bubbly without him, but he’s happy to provide and leave behind whatever hasn’t been drunk by the end of the night.
The first thing he sees after Lizzie takes his coat is Alex by the window with a crystal champagne flute in his hand. This is a casual affair, and Alex is in a moss green crew neck jumper and a pair of trousers that show off just how pert his arse truly is.
Lizzie clocks him staring immediately. He can’t help it. Especially when he sees the sparkle of the bracelet peeking out beneath Alex’s sweater at his wrist.
“Behave yourself,” she says with a tilt of her head and a cheeky enough grin that he knows she doesn’t truly disapprove. Not that it would matter much if she did.
Henry’s quite experienced with making decisions other people don’t like.
He doesn’t go over right away. Stephen wants to show off the new telly he got for the billiards room, so Henry allows himself to be pulled away, but notices Alex’s eyes on him as he goes. Somehow, then, all the men end up in the room. And ‘billiards room’ is a bit of a reduction, to be honest, because it’s a full games and rec room that has any kind of parlour game one could want, along with a shelf full of board games, and a wet bar.
Stephen starts pouring some of his good scotch. He pats Alex on the shoulder and says something that makes him smile. Someone suggests cards, and a few of them sit down at the poker table. Leo is there, and he’s the one who suggests they play for money. Henry’s never been one for gambling, so he sits back, off to the side, and watches.
Alex is more extroverted than Henry is, and it shows here. He gets in on some of the trash talk the men are throwing around, and Henry laughs once or twice at things Alex says. Increasingly obscure sports references he’s clearly looking up on his phone in real time. So incredibly charming Henry is concerned that what he’s feeling is a heart attack and not merely affection.
After a while, Henry simply rests his cheek on his fist and watches Alex. Christ, he’s pretty.
Alex pours everyone a refill of whatever they’d like, and does a time check. It’s 11:30 so they’ll likely head back to the main room soon. When Alex tops off Henry’s glass, Henry says, “Thank you, love,” and Alex nods once and takes a deep breath.
Then Henry watches as Alex pushes up the sleeves of his jumper and crosses his arms. He’s standing behind Leo, and Henry is staring. The bracelet, and Alex’s hands and forearms, and the way that one curl has fallen further and further down his forehead as the night has gone on.
Alex catches him looking. Twice.
The third time, Alex picks up his drink and leaves the room. Henry gives it forty seconds and follows him. He doesn’t have to look far - Alex is standing in the empty hallway by the window, glass still in hand.
“Are you all right?” Henry asks, finding his brows have come together in concern, too.
“Yeah,” Alex answers quickly, then some sort of smile crosses his face. “Just really warm in there all of a sudden.”
Henry doesn’t know Alex well enough to know if he should believe that.
He does know there’s a way to cool someone down.
“Here,” he says, stepping closer.
He reaches into Alex’s glass and plucks an ice cube from it with his bare fingers, lets the excess scotch drop off and then lifts it out of the glass. Alex’s eyes are watching Henry’s hand, even as Henry brings the ice cube up to Alex’s lips. Alex opens his mouth without further prompting, and Henry slips the ice cube past his lips. If he makes sure his wet fingers touch Alex, that’s his business.
Alex’s eyes are wide and warm and dark. It’s bloody intoxicating.
Henry brings his fingers to his own mouth and licks the remaining wetness from them.
Alex licks his own lips.
God, Henry could have him right now.
“Bye, angel,” he says, knowing it’s best to leave a man wanting more.
He heads back to join the women and sits down next to Lizzie on the sofa. She leans her head against him and asks jokingly if Stephen’s lost the house in a game of cards yet.
Alex enters the room a few minutes later, face still flushed, sleeves still rolled up. He pops a bottle of champagne as they get closer to the countdown.
Henry doesn’t kiss anyone at midnight.