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Henry’s knuckles are white where he’s gripping the sink, fingers curled and nails slipping against the marble surface like he might be able to dig in and find purchase.

The single bathroom is expensive-looking, all crisp lines and clean surfaces, which is surprising for a cinema; it’s also larger and far more private a space than a regular public bathroom stall would be, which Henry is infinitely thankful for, but he has yet to get used to the mirror. His skin is hot beneath his suit and his reflection tells him how obvious it is, spelling it out in a flush that’s crept up his neck and stained his cheeks red. Sweat beads at his temples, prickling beneath his shirt in the small of his back. All in all, he makes an impressive sight, if impressive means disastrous and utterly wrecked.

At least his hair is still in place.

Behind him, Jason rolls his hips, all but shoving Henry forward into the tight circle of his fist, and Henry lets his breath out in a low whine. He can see Jason’s eyes fixed on his reflection, the brown swallowed up by a greedy black, crinkled in the corners with mischief. His mouth is hidden, but it isn’t hard to tell that he’s smiling. Henry himself isn’t generally one for exhibitionism, or narcissism, or really anything to do with staring at himself in the mirror for any length of time, but there’s something about seeing the way his cock slides through Jason’s hand that almost makes him want to try it again when they have time to slow down and enjoy it.

Even with the rest of their costars seated obliviously in the cinema adjacent, likely too engrossed in the film to really notice his absence, he’s pretty sure he’ll just have to make do with this until then.

Jason thrusts forward again, this time with a moan pressed against the back of Henry’s neck that makes his skin prickle. He’s hard too, thankfully—and Henry hasn’t quite decided what he’d like to do about it, though he’d love to return the favour if time allows for it—but for now he’s content to let Jason grind against him, every rock of his hips making the damned chains hanging from his belt jingle. Henry laughs breathlessly, closing his eyes so that his reflection disappears and his senses narrow down to the spit-slicked hand pumping his cock and the wet heat of Jason’s mouth on the back of his neck. He likes it better this way, and with Jason’s chest pressed flush against his back and an arm curled around his waist he can almost imagine the chatter of voices and the flash of cameras from the red carpet.

Less than an hour ago Jason’s breath had been hot on his face, and it had all been for the cameras then, or so he’d thought, and now—

“You laughin’ at me, are you?” Jason asks, low and silky, mouth now pressed behind Henry’s ear. If Henry makes it out of this event without a single visible mark between his hairline and his collar, he’ll be absolutely amazed. “Maybe I should take this shit off, huh?”

He’s seen Jason without his jeans on before. He’s seen Jason completely naked, in fact, and the thought of letting Jason strip down to nothing and grind against him in so public a place is fueling a fire that Henry thinks he’ll need desperately to damp later on… or as soon as he lets Jason finish jerking him off into this damned marble sink. “Maybe you should have dressed up,” he replies dryly, which Jason responds to by shoving him up against the sink, hand clamped around the base of his cock. He groans, tipping his head back against Jason’s shoulder as he reaches back, fumbling with the chains and in his attempt to get a firm handful of Jason’s ass.

Jason licks at the curve of his neck and laughs, mouth dragging against Henry’s skin, his beard so coarse that it almost burns. “This is dressed up. You and Ben can keep the fancy suits, I’m gonna dress—” He bites down and Henry moans despite himself, cock twitching in Jason’s hand. “Practical.”

Henry doesn’t bother responding. He arches against Jason’s mouth, torn between encouraging Jason to keep rubbing against him and encouraging Jason to just concentrate on what he’s supposed to be doing. He kneads Jason’s ass, wondering if it would be polite to just turn around and sink to his knees and get Jason off with his mouth, and is startled out of his rhythm by a knock on the door.

Jason doesn’t skip a beat. “Busy, bro,” he calls, barely a hint of strain in his voice. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the crown of Henry’s cock and Henry bites down a whine, hips jumping into his hand. He’s done something like this only once before, far too paranoid to engage in anything even remotely public like this on all but the most desperate occasions, but the thrill of it is still diamond-sharp, twisting in his belly and threatening to push him over the edge as Jason squeezes him and strokes faster.

There’s silence on the other side. Jason’s free hand rises, fingers pressing against Henry’s mouth and sliding in when Henry parts his lips. Henry’s thrusting is jerky now, and even Jason exhales hard against his ear, still grinning his shark’s grin in the mirror. Then, behind the door, a voice: “Hey, you see where Henry went?”

Ben. Right there, just on the other side of the door, a couple of feet and an occupied sign away. Jason’s fingers muffle his whimper, and Henry’s knuckles are white again on the marble, fingers digging now into the muscle of Jason’s ass. There’s white noise in his ears, the thunder of his heartbeat and, though Henry hardly notices it, the blessed absence of jingling now that Jason has gone stock-still. Despite the relative silence of the room, Henry can barely hear Jason whispering against his ear, you want him, before he calls out again, “No, thought he was with you. You need him?”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll find him later.”

Henry strains to listen for Ben’s retreating footsteps over the sound of his own heartbeat, and after a moment becomes acutely aware that Jason’s hand is dripping all over the fancy tile floor; he catches Jason’s eye in the mirror again, exhaling hard through his nose, and this time Jason grins, letting his fingers slip from Henry’s mouth as Henry tries to straighten up and turn around without rattling his chain.

“You’re just gonna fuck things up for yourself if you keep ignoring him,” Jason points out. He holds his hands out of the way as Henry fumbles with his belt and tugs down the zip, then adds, “See, you didn’t disagree with me just now, dude. You know I’m right.”

“I didn’t even hear what you said,” Henry lies. Jason’s cock is warm and heavy in his hand, the material of his underwear damp and sticky against Henry’s hand as he draws him out. He knows exactly what Jason means, and he’s determined to ignore it until he can retreat to the safety of his own home and convince himself that Jason isn’t right at all. As far as he’s concerned, he can’t fuck anything up if there’s nothing to fuck up in the first place.

He leans in and Jason’s breath comes out shaky against his mouth. “I’m telling you, he wants your dick as much as you want his. You gotta stop fuckin’ around and just tell him, or I’ll do it for you.”

Henry strokes him firmly. The dry friction and pressure makes Jason’s eyelids flutter, but he’s still watching Henry with that same pointed expression.

“I’ll tell him,” Henry agrees, with absolutely no intentions of doing so. He glances down long enough to make sure that he won’t be going back out in public with any regrettable stains on his trousers, and sinks to his knees.

 

“You didn’t tell him,” Jason says conversationally. He’s in full costume today, menacing-looking in his armour and eerie contacts. Next to him, Henry looks downright underdressed, having snuck on set in a hoodie that looks completely out of place next to the Atlantean garb, and Henry’s never been quite so thankful that there are multiple PAs around waiting to snatch away Jason’s trident between takes. He doesn’t doubt that it would be halfway up his ass by now, judging by the look on Jason’s face.

It’s been just over a week since the premiere, and looking at Jason’s unimpressed expression he now knows why he’s felt a vague sense of dread and regret churning in his stomach for the past several days. “Tell him what, that he interrupted a perfectly peaceful moment in a public bathroom?”

“Tell him you want to suck his dick and profess your longstanding and undying love for him,” Jason clarifies. He isn’t speaking especially loudly, but it’s incriminating enough that Henry glances around, gaze flickering back and forth over the various assistants and crew members bustling about on set to ensure that nobody is eavesdropping. Not only is he not in costume today: Henry isn’t technically even needed on set for the rest of the week, but knowing that most of his friends are gathered in one spot while he’s off frolicking on his own makes him feel a bit lonely on occasion.

Jason watches him with a scarred eyebrow arched, unamused by Henry’s lack of attempt to even defend himself, then nudges his arm. “You should go find him before someone else finds you. Just fucking talk to him.”

Henry continues to scan the set. He can see Gal in the corner, laughing at somebody with her lasso in hand and looking utterly radiant in her own costume and makeup, but Ben is nowhere in sight. “And say what? ‘Hello, I’m here because I’ve been avoiding you out of guilt, but I’m actually quite lonely and I’ve been in love with you for a while, are you free tonight’?”

Jason shrugs, clinking softly at the shoulders. “Sure. Start with that, then throw in some directions to your place. I invited him over earlier, since you aren’t gonna do it. Said no to the beer but yes to the takeout. And the sex.”

There’s an icy-cold stab of panic in Henry’s chest for a split second, but it fades as quickly as it had risen. Jason likes to make his jokes, but Henry’s about ninety-eight percent sure that he would never actually invite Ben into somebody else’s home without checking in first, let alone inviting him into somebody else’s bed. The other two percent, well. “Yeah, I doubt that. Have you seen the man? He’s in better shape than I am. And you’re…” Henry gestures uselessly. Jason is a perfect example of a man who’s somehow discovered the secret of turning beer into muscle, but it’s not like Henry needs to remind him. “I mean, he’s not gonna want to sit around and eat junk food with us. Maybe with somebody else there, but...”

He glances around, still watching for the familiar bat ears bobbing above the heads of the crew. Next to him, Jason hums, dismissive. “Seriously, you think he’s not gonna turn up because socializing is gonna fuck with his gym schedule? You’re fuckin’ Superman, bro, and I got you to come out with me more than once, remember? If you’re worried about his calorie intake, though…” He shrugs again, casting an unreadable look over Henry. The eyes are extremely unsettling. “I mean, you don’t gotta believe me but I’m just warning you now, I told him to skip the gym ‘cause he’s gonna get a good workout if he comes over. If I were you, I’d change my sheets before he shows up looking for a good time.”

This time he meets Henry’s gaze directly. Henry hasn’t known Jason for very long, but now he’s damn sure it isn’t the vibrancy of Jason’s contacts that’s making him uneasy. There’s a certain level of uncertainty that comes with being Jason’s friend, Henry has discovered that much. Now a grin splits his face, making him look impossibly sinister, and Henry’s stomach knots. Suddenly, that two percent of doubt is looking a lot more like a hundred percent of certainty.

“He’s probably getting his eyeliner fixed,” Jason informs him. “I’d start there.”

 

Henry finds him in the makeup trailer.

He notices Henry approaching in the mirror and raises a hand in greeting, one eye rimmed in a layer of black that’s smudged halfway to his cheekbone while Karen sees to his other with a careful hand. She notices him in the mirror, too, and offers a brief smile before returning her attention to Ben’s right eye.

“Before you say anything,” Ben starts, glancing up as Henry steps into his field of vision, “tell me how good this looks.”

He might as well be honest. “You look amazing. ‘Last night’s makeup’ meets ‘crying alone in the bath with an empty bottle of wine’.”

Ben chuckles. “Good. I love it. We should trademark that shit.”

Henry leans against the trailer wall, hands shoved in his pockets, pretending to inspect Karen’s handiwork from afar. He actually quite likes the way the greasepaint highlights Ben’s eyes, especially with the bright light of the vanity shining on his face. Up close, Henry knows the contrast is even more impressive. He still tends to spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about standing face-to-face with Ben on the Dawn of Justice set for that reason alone. “I think Batman should have opted for glow-in-the-dark paint instead, actually.”

Ben tries to grin up at him and earns a disapproving noise from Karen. With her hand so close to his eye, it makes even Henry a little bit nervous.

Ben goes back to staring straight ahead, mouth turned in a thoughtful expression. “Maybe reflective paint. Shine a light on me and I won’t even need those little lenses, I’ll just light everybody up with my face paint.”

Henry makes a face. “Well, you’ve got me there. I can’t think of anything scarier to look at.”

He can see the corner of Ben’s mouth turning up again, teeth flashing in the ghost of a Wayne smirk mixed with his own amused grin. “Fuck off. What’s up?”

“Nothing, really. Happened to be in the area, thought I’d pop in and say hello to everybody…” Wanted to make sure Jason didn’t actually invite you over for a threesome. Henry shrugs. “The usual.”

Ben makes a knowing sound, forehead creasing just enough that Henry notices it. “Did you get to talk to Jason yet? He’ll kill me if he finds out you were here and didn’t get to see him.”

Ah. Henry fidgets a little, scuffing his boot against the floor. It’s difficult to feign ignorance when he knows that Ben’s probably well aware that Henry’s already spoken to him. Jason has been less than subtle about his affection for Henry—he’s affectionate with everybody, really, but it’s no secret that recently Henry has been the main object of his interest— and there are rumours running rampant that Jason hasn’t even bothered trying to dispel. It hadn’t taken long for the stories about Henry and Ben to turn into stories about Henry and Jason, which, looking back on it, is almost funny. If the rumours about him and Ben had had any sort of truth to them, Jason would never have gotten involved in the first place. “Actually, I ran into him on the way to find you. Wondered if you, ah…”

Now Ben glances toward him, and he chews his lip, deliberating. Rip it off. Get it over with. “D’you... know where I live?”

“Where you live? Yeah, it’s somewhere… South something? South London? I swear I know it, it’s just not coming to me. Is it South London? Why?”

“West London, actually,” Henry says, and Ben repeats him under his breath, oh, West London, right. “But that’s close enough. I guess you need directions?”

Now Ben’s eyebrows shoot up, and he actually turns his head just enough that Karen’s careful hand leaves a smudge of greasepaint across his cheek. “Shit, I’m sorry, you can just leave it, I’ll be wearing the cowl over it anyway.” He sighs and lets Karen wrestle his head back into place, watching Henry out of the corner of his eye. “Why do I need directions? Is there something going on at your place?”

“I dunno, didn’t you say you’d —?” The curiosity on his face is telling enough, and now Henry has to think on his toes to keep up the charade. “Actually, never mind. Do you wanna… I dunno, come over tonight? If you’re not busy, that is, I just thought it would be nice to… relax? Go over some things?” Vagueness has never gotten him anywhere good in his life, but he hadn’t been in any way prepared to invite Ben to his house. He’s going to kill Jason with that damned trident if it’s the last thing he does.

“Yeah, I can probably swing by. Anybody else coming?”

“Just… you? So far?” Henry’s sure he’s never sounded this pathetic in his life. Luckily, Karen saves him by switching sides, momentarily obscuring Ben’s face and possibly a judgemental stare. He takes the opportunity to add in a rush, “I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together. Just us. The way it used to be, you know, back when I really hated you.”

It sounds bad the minute it comes out of his mouth. It sounds really bad. Henry knows he needs to make a swift exit immediately. To add insult to injury, Ben’s chuckling at him, and Henry can already feel his face warming up, well aware that the longer he stays the deeper he’s going to dig himself. He can only hide behind Karen for so long. Swift exit.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” Ben says, which somehow makes Henry panic more. “Just text me your address, I’ll see if I can show up whenever we’re finished here. You want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Henry says quickly. He steps around Karen, sneaks a peek at the finished product, and catches Ben’s eye again. The greasepaint is perfect and all three of them know it. “So I’ll see you later tonight?”

“I’ll be there,” Ben assures him.

Henry’s phone is in his hand the minute he leaves the room. Luckily, the cast and crew are being rounded up for another take while Zack gestures animatedly, and the distraction gives Henry the opportunity to slip out again unnoticed. He sends two texts before he makes it back to his car—one to Ben, containing only his address and a word or two conveying his enthusiasm, and a second to Jason: Thanks for setting me up, do NOT show up tonight.

Jason's response is instantaneous: WELCOME.

 

Henry likes spending time with Ben. Really likes it.

In his honest opinion, being paid to work with Ben is the best part of his job. It’s the best part of any job he’s ever worked. Sure, working with Zack on Man of Steel had been great, and he loves Amy and Jason and all the rest to death, but it’s been so long since he’s found himself so genuinely interested in one person that spending any amount of time alone with Ben is like finding a four-leaf clover in a pot of horseshoes and rabbits’ feet at the end of a rainbow. It doesn’t help that he’s handsome, or that he’s charming in a vaguely obnoxious way, or that sometimes he starts to slip into an accent that Henry can’t quite wrap his head around when he gets worked up, and it certainly doesn’t help that Henry has seen enough of Ben in athletic shorts and sweatpants that he doesn’t even need to fast forward to the end of Gone Girl anymore to gather valuable information for use at night in the privacy of his own home.

He also loves the way Ben genuinely enjoys his company. Henry isn’t the only person who’s fanned the flames of rumours; Ben’s just as bad for it as he is, always sitting close when he’s able and speaking so quietly at times that Henry is forced to lean in to listen, and there’s never any lack of things to discuss. There’s a carefully guarded wall around Ben that seems to lower every time Henry’s around, and it’s immensely satisfying to watch Ben relax around him.

Tonight Ben stretches out on Henry’s couch with his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, hair tousled and unstyled, no greasepaint to be found on his face. Conversation comes naturally to them even after a long day, playful banter with breaks that Henry uses to question just why he finds it so damned difficult to get here in the first place when he knows that everything falls into place so easily once they’re together. The television is on, too, some old episode of Top Gear playing low in the background, but neither of them pay any attention to it. Ben is sporting a few minor bruises after the day’s shoot, and Henry is almost beginning to feel bad about leaving early and missing out on all the fun when Ben glances at his phone and raises it to his ear.

“Hey,” he says, and mouths Jason at Henry, who nods and takes the opportunity to grab his own phone. He’d given up on keeping up with it once he’d determined that the sporadic buzzing had simply been a series of texts inquiring about whether or not his bed is currently or will be in use before the end of the night.

He tries not to listen in. Ben replies mostly with yeahs and cools and sure, that’s greats, but Henry finds himself on edge until Ben laughs and closes the conversation with a "Yeah, I’ll see you soon!" and hangs up.

If the ball’s going to drop, it’ll be now. “Are you leaving?”

Ben places his phone carefully on the table and kicks his feet back up, shaking his head. “Nah, I think he just wants to come over here.” He goes quiet while Henry absorbs the news, and after a moment tips his head back and sighs. “Can I ask you something?”

Henry’s stomach knots up immediately. “Yeah, of course,” he says, hoping that he sounds less like a man with something to hide and maybe a little more like a concerned friend. He debates angling toward Ben and decides against it. Act casual.

Ben continues to stare upwards, eyebrows knit together like he’s trying to sort out the mysteries of Henry’s ceiling. “You and Jason,” he begins, and already Henry has hurried excuses forming in his mind, tumbling over one another and threatening to spill out before Ben even finishes speaking. “What are you guys?”

There it is. Henry swallows. “What do you mean?”

“I know you guys are close. It’s just…” Ben sighs. “You know how people are. They talk. I just wanted to know if there was anything to it.”

Henry shifts, attempting to buy himself time as he turns toward Ben. It feels like every cell in his body is trying to convince him that this conversation is a bad idea. It’s a terrible idea. Is he supposed to lie about it? He knows that people make sly comments and jokes, but has Ben been under the assumption that there’s been some substance to them? “We’re just friends. That’s it. People said the same thing about us, didn’t they? He’s just friendly, you know how he is, it’s not like… is he telling people that something...?”

Ben turns his head, eyes flickering over Henry’s face, silent, evaluating. “No. I did ask him, though, and he specifically said that you guys weren’t. Aren’t.” He closes his mouth, lips pressed in a thin line. There’s more that he isn’t saying. Henry’s not sure if he’s surprised or not that Ben would ask, but the thought makes him uncomfortable anyway.

“He said something,” Henry presses. “What did he tell you?”

“Just that there’s nothing between you. I guess I believe him. It’s funny, you know? He just… the way he said it was so deliberate. Like he wanted me to know that there was nothing special, and when he stressed how lonely you were…”

Henry swallows. He remembers Jason’s voice in his ear, weeks ago, telling him he’s just a lonely guy, dude, you should make your move before it’s too late. “Yeah, that’s strange. He, ah… he told me the same thing about you.” Ben raises an eyebrow, and Henry decides to throw caution to the wind. “Did he offer to help you too?”

Ben smiles faintly. “Yep. I thanked him for the offer, but casual stuff isn’t really my thing. I mean, I don’t blame you for letting him, he’s pretty…”

He makes a face, and Henry nods, feeling the blood drain out of his face. Everybody knows how Jason can be. It’s hard to resist him even when he isn’t making deliberate advances. “He certainly is.” A long pause. He wonders if Ben will be gone by the time Jason arrives, and if Jason will be willing to pick up the shattered pieces of Henry’s dignity when he comes through the door. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about it, I just didn’t want you to be…”

“No hard feelings, I promise,” Ben says. He tucks a leg underneath himself, turning so that he’s facing Henry, an arm slung over the back of the couch. “At least you were able to admit to yourself that he was right.”

“About being lonely?” Henry has a feeling that the change in body language is supposed to be an invitation to open up. He’s never wanted to hide anything from Ben. At this point in the conversation, he doesn’t have much left to lose.

“I wasn’t brave enough to say yes. I guess I just needed some time to accept it,” Ben admits. He smiles ruefully and Henry can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that there might have been something else to the mystery of Ben’s preferences, something running deeper than a simple lack of interest. Then again, he might be reading too much into it. It's hard to tell, and Ben's performances tend to be, well, Oscar-worthy. “You know, I have this weird feeling that this is what he was going for all along. Trying to get me here.”

Henry nods. It’s hard to tell if Ben’s being literal or not, and he’s not certain enough to play a risky game. “He seems to have a tendency to do that to people. He’s been trying to convince me to tell you now for… probably as long as we’ve been doing this. He kept telling me that he would do it if I didn’t, but I think he was just trying to nudge me along, you know? Make me tell you myself.”

“Tell me what, that every time you two snuck off together it was to blow off some steam?”

“Ye—no, actually,” he says, frowning. So maybe they hadn’t managed to convince him that night, but at least Ben doesn’t seem especially upset about it. If anything, Henry’s glad that Jason had approached him with the same offer. “He thought I should finally tell you that I wasn’t sleeping with him because I was interested in him, I was actually…”

Ben looks at him, and for a moment Henry holds his gaze, hoping desperately that he’s coming across loud and clear. Finally, Ben looks down and smiles, a small, private thing that almost makes Henry’s eyes water. “You remember all those times we joked about it, and all that shit people were saying about us… why the hell didn’t we ever do that? Give them something to talk about?”

Startled, Henry finds himself laughing. “I think we gave them plenty to talk about. We just never really… uh...” He pauses as Ben’s eyes flicker down his face. Henry can feel his mouth go dry. He isn’t prepared for this. A whole year of thinking up situations and planning for every possible outcome wouldn’t be able to prepare him for the way Ben is looking at him—and God, does he ever want to find out what that look means. “...caught up to the rumours.”

Ben leans in, giving Henry only a split second to admire the warmth of his eyes before Ben kisses him; then it’s the warmth of his mouth, his fingertips brushing against the curve of Henry’s jaw, the soft heat of his breath against Henry’s lips.

He’s right—a year wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to prepare him.

 

Jason doesn’t arrive until late in the evening. Henry doesn’t even bother getting up to answer the doorbell, nor does Ben, who’s finally starting to doze off with his head on Henry’s thigh. He hums sleepily as Henry stops carding his fingers through his hair, and after nearly a solid minute of doorbell Henry pushes at his shoulder and nudges him up.

“I’ll get him,” he says. Ben yawns and slowly pulls himself upright, and Henry takes a second to admire the way Ben’s hair is sticking up on one side before he makes his way to the door.

Jason blows through like a hurricane. Henry’s backed against the wall before he knows it, Jason’s gaze flitting over his face, a palm pressed against his chest. “So did I miss the party? You guys get cozy yet? Don’t tell me,” he says, voice lowered, still scanning Henry’s face. “Shit, you really did it, didn’t you? Fuck, dude, that’s great, congrats to both of you.”

Henry opens his mouth and closes it. “We didn’t—I talked to him,” he hisses.

Jason grins, fingers already curling around Henry’s wrists, body weight pressing him into the wall. “Talked to him? Don’t tell me you just talked to him. You told him, didn’t you?”

His enthusiasm is almost palpable. It is palpable, in fact; Henry can feel Jason’s cock against his hip, and he shivers as Jason leans against him, mouth pressing into the skin just below his ear. “Did you tell him how much you wanna suck his cock? Tell him how bad you wanna fuck him?”

Henry has told him nothing of the sort, but he imagines that the half-hour he’d spent perched in Ben’s lap would have been enough to convey a similar sentiment. He pushes against Jason’s hold and finds himself stuck fast, swallowing a sound as Jason’s teeth scrape over his throat. “You want to tell him, be my guest. Sounds like you’ve told him enough about me.”

Jason chuckles, predictably unapologetic. “Did it all for you, buddy.” His mouth dips down to the hollow of Henry’s throat, and this time when he rolls his hips Henry lets out a low moan and pushes back. “Yeah, there you go, that’s it. What do you think, we take this in there with him? Show him all the fun we’ve been having these last couple weeks?”

Henry swallows, eyes darting toward the figure in his peripheral vision. Ben looks like he’s ready to faceplant a pillow, and Henry’s first instinct is to make a strangled noise and try to buck Jason off. “Hey, relax, c’mon,” Jason murmurs, holding him still. He glances back at Ben, whose eyebrows are crawling toward his hairline, then catches Henry’s eye again. “What do you say? We give him a show?”

Henry’s cock twitches. He remembers this feeling. It’s similar to the way he’d felt when Ben had been asking for him during the premiere, only now there’s no wall hiding him from Ben’s gaze. Maybe if Jason had opened the door, Ben would have looked at them like this, all rapt attention and dark, interested eyes.

He can feel Jason's fingers dragging the zip down, slipping in to cup him through his boxers. “God,” Jason breathes, “I'm gonna miss this when you guys go exclusive.” He squeezes Henry's cock, kneading him through the material, then returns his mouth to Henry's throat. Henry moans into his hair, squirming as if he might be able to wriggle out of Jason’s grasp.

“So this is really happening,” Ben says slowly, eyes fixed on the movement of Jason’s hand. Henry can feel Jason grinning against his skin, and with a sharp nip of teeth Henry's boxers are being shoved down too, Jason's fingers warm and dry as they curl around his cock.

Henry swallows. He rocks tentatively into Jason's hand, cheeks flushing as he realizes that this is the first time Ben has seen him like this; he'd kissed him thoroughly enough earlier to get his point across, but Henry would never have expected that the first time Ben would see his cock would be in Jason's hand. Hell, he’d never expected Ben to see his cock in the first place.

“Yeah, fuck, we’re doing this,” Henry groans.

 

Unsurprisingly, the first person to end up fully nude in Henry’s bed is Jason.

Henry’s head is turned when it happens, a millisecond of his attention devoted to closing the door so that Kal doesn’t interrupt, and when he looks back Jason has Ben pinned flat on his back. His hair isn’t pulled back, and it falls freely over his shoulders, shielding them from what Henry assumes must be an extremely slow and extremely thorough kiss. Now seems like a good time to join in, he thinks, and for a moment, he isn’t sure where to even begin; he can see the slow undulation of Jason’s back as he grinds between Ben’s parted thighs, Ben’s hands sliding up into his hair. Ben hasn’t managed to undress at all, and as Henry watches he sits up and tugs off his shirt. Jason takes the opportunity to push his hair out of his face, grinning like a shark in bloody water.

“Hey,” Ben says, turning his attention to Henry while Jason leans in and mouths at his bared chest, “c’mere, help me out, I’m not doing this without you.”

Henry opens his mouth and shuts it again. He stands at the side of the bed, glancing at the splay of Jason’s fingers over Ben’s ribcage while the amount of things he wants to do climbs to a dizzying number. “Where…?”

“Right here.” Ben shoves at Jason, who rolls onto the mattress with ease and stretches out, unbothered by the disturbance. Now he gestures and Henry takes Jason’s place, kneeling between carefully Ben's thighs while Ben's arms curl around his shoulders.

Henry kisses him softly at first; he's not exactly self-conscious about this, not yet, but it's incredibly hard to forget about Jason lying next to them, and even harder to ignore him when all Henry can see in his peripheral vision is the lazy movement of Jason's hand on his own cock.

Ben’s fingers dig into his shoulders, hitting a sweet spot in the muscle that makes Henry groan. “I almost don't know what to do,” he admits quietly, ignoring the fact that his hands have apparently decided that touching every inch of Ben's bare torso is the best place to start. “I've never really done this before.”

Ben smiles at him, warm and reassuring. “Don't worry about it,” he says, brushing his knuckles against Henry's cheek. “I've done it a couple of times, and Jason...?”

“Yep.”

“See, he's done it too. We’ll take care of you,” Ben assures him. He kisses Henry again gently, hands moving down Henry's sides and over his hips, fingers dipping just below the waist of his jeans. “You wanna help me get these off? Maybe we can start there.”

Together, he and Ben manage to work him out of jeans and underwear both, while Jason does little more than jerk himself off and make appreciative sounds. His shirt comes off too, and Ben runs his hands over Henry’s body with such reverence that for a moment Henry completely forgets his nerves; he leans down and kisses Ben again, harder this time, sinking his teeth into Ben’s lip while Ben palms over his back, his shoulders, his arms. Henry can feel the heat of Ben’s cock rubbing against his own, and he laughs breathlessly against Ben’s mouth as Ben’s fingers dig into his hips.

The bed dips, first near Henry’s knee and then behind him, and suddenly there’s a pair of hands on his ass. “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Jason says behind him, spreading Henry apart with his palms, and then his tongue—

“Oh, fucking Jesus.”

Jason chuckles against his skin, tongue pressing deeper, hot and warm as he licks in. Henry shudders, pushing back against Jason’s face and then forward again into the cradle of Ben’s hips. Now Ben’s hands slide down, fingers digging into his ass as Jason’s slip away, and he’s pretty sure that it’s just Ben holding him open now, helping him rock back and forth as he tries to find a happy medium between Jason’s mouth and the friction of Ben’s cock. “God, fuck…”

Jason’s tongue curls and Henry hides a moan against Ben’s jaw, hips jerking against the steady rhythm of Ben’s hands; he wants to hear the same noise from Ben, now, and finds himself shoving a hand in between them, rubbing the heel of his palm firmly against Ben’s clothed cock. Ben lets his breath out in a shaky hiss and bucks up, freeing one hand to help push his pants down enough for Henry to wrap his fingers around him.

“Holy shit,” Henry breathes. An hour ago he wouldn’t have dreamed that he would be in the middle of two extremely large, muscular men, and now he has Ben’s cock in his hand and Jason’s tongue in his ass, and he thinks that a scene like this all but begs for a moment of reflection.

Then the moment passes and Henry strokes Ben from root to tip, rubbing his thumb beneath the crown of his cock until a low groan rumbles in Ben’s chest. Henry strokes him again, savouring the weight of Ben’s cock in his hand, the skin soft and warm beneath his fingers, and then an idea hits. He takes both of them in hand, the fit awkward as he holds Ben’s cock against his own; Henry strokes them together, watching intently as Ben’s eyelids flutter shut.

“God, that’s good,” Ben breathes, rocking up against Henry’s hand. Henry presses open-mouthed kisses to his jaw and throat and rocks with him, and soon they manage to find a lazy rhythm that Jason matches as he fucks Henry with his tongue.

It’s the single best thing Henry’s ever felt in his entire life.

He’s the first to come, still bracketed by Ben’s thighs, breathless and trembling between them. One of Ben’s hands is still holding him open and the other nudges Henry’s hand aside, and Henry braces himself on his forearms and rocks back and forth, sinking his teeth into the meat of Ben’s pectoral, focus narrowed to two points of contact: Jason’s mouth behind him, Ben’s fist and the slick length of Ben’s cock in front of him.

“God, that’s so hot,” Ben murmurs. He’s completely abandoned his own cock to focus on Henry’s, stroking him slowly as he shivers through the aftershocks. Even Jason shows mercy, mouthing gently at the back of Henry’s thigh and the base of his spine as Henry begins to relax, his hands warm and soothing where they rub over his skin. “C’mon, lie down here, I got you.”

Henry groans faintly and lowers himself right into the mess, content to bury his face in Ben’s neck while he catches his breath. Ben rubs a palm over his side and Henry can feel the bed dipping again as Jason shuffles up next to them; the soft brush of hair against his shoulder makes Henry glance up, and he finds Jason and Ben kissing lazily, Ben’s lip between Jason’s teeth, the occasional flash of tongue between them. Henry’s cock twitches faintly, and he continues to watch, spellbound, until finally Jason breaks away and moves to Henry instead. Still too dazed to protest, he lets Jason lick into his mouth, a low whine rising in his throat as Jason nudges him gently off of Ben and onto his back. He slides his fingers into Jason’s hair and shivers as Jason mouths down his throat and chest, then to the mess smeared over his abdomen. It’s enough to make Henry’s cock twitch again, but it’s a losing battle. He simply tries to relax, watching as Jason licks him clean, then shifts over to mouth at the remnants of the mess on Ben’s stomach.

“Jesus,” Ben says breathlessly. He lifts his hips and Jason tugs his pants off with ease, tossing them into the corner of the room before sitting back on his knees. Henry’s eyes slide down his body and settle on Jason’s cock, still flushed and hard, and when he glances up Jason is grinning at him, a silent caught you shining in his eyes.

“You ready to clock out yet?”

Henry stares at him, then shoots a look at Ben, who makes a vaguely amused noise and shrugs.

“Not just yet,” Henry says decidedly, then leans over and licks up the length of Ben’s cock. He sucks the head into his mouth and holds it on his tongue, closing his eyes to focus on the smoothness of his flesh, the taste of him, the unbelievably pleasurable sensation of simply having Ben’s cock in his mouth. Henry’s been thinking about this for years. He’s earned the right to savour it.

Seconds pass, and Henry opens his eyes again when Ben’s knuckles brush against the side of his cheek. Ben smiles warmly at him and Henry tilts his head just enough to encourage the touch. He doesn’t think he’s ever had anybody look at him with such open adoration, even with his lips wrapped around them or in between their thighs, and he doesn’t realize that he’s holding them up until Jason shoulders his way in, growling, “Get a fuckin’ room or let me do it, bro.”

Henry knows he’s joking, but he still isn’t completely prepared for Jason to duck his head down and mouth at the base of Ben’s cock while it’s still in his mouth. Judging by the slack-jawed expression on Ben’s face, he isn’t prepared for it either, and it only takes a split second for Henry to realize what he needs to do. He lets Ben’s cock slip out of his mouth, curling his tongue around the head, then takes him back in, sucking with renewed energy. Ben’s fingers rest lightly on his jaw as he moans, and just below him he can feel Jason sucking at him too, groaning as he moves from Ben’s shaft to his balls; Henry tries to reach for Jason’s cock but the angle is too awkward to get a proper grip on him, so he settles for tugging him back by the hair to kiss him, a messy slide of tongue and lips.

When Henry pulls back to catch his breath Jason stares at him, eyes wide and black, a wild animal in heat. “Fuck, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

Henry laughs breathlessly and leans down to suck Ben’s cock back into his mouth.

Ben doesn’t allow it for very long. He fists a hand in Henry’s hair and tugs until Henry lifts his head, and Henry almost feels guilty about claiming Ben’s cock for himself until Ben groans, breathless, “You’re gonna kill me, it’s been one night and you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Good thing you two have the rest of your lives to kill each other,” Jason says, patting Ben’s thigh. He sits back again and Henry catches Ben’s eye. They haven’t had the chance to discuss anything serious, of course, but something about the way Ben’s mouth lifts at the corner tells Henry that Jason might have a point. They do have the rest of their lives to do this. Maybe not with Jason, but the thought of spending any amount of time with Ben like this, just the two of them, unashamed and eager to explore one another, is enough to send a warm flush through Henry’s body.

Now Ben pulls himself upright. “Okay,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face, “so which one of you wants to fuck me?”

“Well, who do you want?” Jason asks.

Ben simply shrugs, so casual about the question that it’s almost comical. “I’m good with either one of you. Or both. Whatever you guys want.”

Henry swallows. He’s been so distracted by all the potential for touching and kissing and rubbing against various body parts that he hasn’t even stopped to consider actually fucking anybody. And the thought of both of them… “I don’t think I can,” he says, gesturing to himself. He’ll be lucky to get hard again in the next half hour, unless Ben’s interested in waiting for him. “Sorry.”

Ben swipes a thumb over his cheekbone. “C’mon, that’s no big deal, we can still have fun. And you,” he says finally, swinging his head around to look at Jason, “what do you think?”

“Hey.” Jason holds up both hands. “If your guy’s okay with it, I’d be happy to help.” He winks down at Henry, who flushes again when Ben doesn’t bother correcting him.

“What do you think?”

“Uh. Yes. It’s very okay. More than okay,” Henry says. “I have—in the drawer, just look in there.”

He rolls off to the side and gives Ben room to reach up and rummage through the drawer. Luckily, Ben doesn’t comment on his suspiciously well-placed collection of necessities; he throws a condom at Jason’s chest and hands the bottle to Henry. “How about it?”

Henry’s no stranger to this, at least. He has Ben squirming and clenching around his fingers within minutes, and this time he has an excuse to go slow and marvel at the way Ben’s body reacts to his touch. Jason simply watches, content to prop himself up against the headboard in a pile of pillows fit for a king while Henry does his best to be thorough. Ben’s body yields to him easily, which tells Henry that he’s either very familiar with having at least three fingers inside of him, or that he’s extremely comfortable sleeping with three people. Strangely enough, Henry can’t quite figure out which option he finds more arousing.

Ben straddles Jason’s hips once Henry’s finished, but the moment Henry tries to lie back and watch Ben reaches for him. “Up here, come up with me,” he urges, so Henry kneels behind him with his chin hooked over Ben’s shoulder, resting his hands on Ben’s hips while Ben lowers himself slowly onto Jason's cock.

Finally, Ben settles himself fully on Jason’s hips and exhales. He’s remarkably calm on the outside, only the occasional tremor in his thighs and the sweat beading on his skin betraying the strain, and yet Henry can feel his heartbeat thundering beneath his lips. He wraps his arms around Ben's waist and kisses his shoulder; in front of him, Jason’s rubbing his palms slowly over Ben’s thighs, and when he catches Henry’s eye he offers a lazy smirk.

“Feel like I'm missing something between you two,” Ben mumbles. He turns his head and nudges his nose against Henry’s cheek. “What’s goin’ on?”

Jason winks again. Henry catches Ben’s mouth in a brief kiss and rubs his fingers over Ben’s hip bone, having already decided against giving Jason any more fodder. “Nothing.” He kisses Ben’s ear this time, lowering his voice to continue: “I’ve just thought about this a lot.”

“He thought about me fucking you,” Jason clarifies. He gives a slow roll of his hips and Ben swallows, fingers curling over the backs of Henry’s hands. “Tell me how it feels, let me know when you’re good.”

“I’m good,” Ben murmurs. He squeezes Henry’s hands and tips his head back, closing his eyes as Henry presses his lips along the exposed curve of his throat. “Just enjoying it. I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to sit on this thing.” He shifts a little and sighs.

Henry can empathize, at least. He’s thought the same thing on multiple occasions, and somehow he always manages to end up with Jason’s cock in him anyway. “Shit, man, I’m just glad I’m not the one sitting on you,” Jason says, and Henry chuckles until he adds, “you’re probably gonna kill poor Henry when you fuck him, he’s pretty tight.”

“That’s fine, he has the best ass I’ve ever seen on a man,” Ben replies, like they’re discussing the weather over breakfast. “You gonna do this?”

“Told you, I’m waiting on you,” Jason says, but Ben’s already lifting himself up; he moves no more than a couple of inches before sinking back down, every movement slow and controlled, and Henry can see Jason’s grip on his thighs tighten. “Fuck, that’s good. You sure you feel okay?”

Ben hums in reply and raises himself again. Henry can feel the strain in his body, every muscle taut. Thoughtfully, Henry slides a hand down, palming slowly over the curve of Ben’s ass before brushing his fingers over the spot where Ben’s flesh meets Jason’s. Ben goes still, and Henry kisses the back of his neck, murmuring, “Sh, I’m just touching, don’t worry.”

When Ben lifts up again, Henry rubs his fingers against Ben’s skin, the flesh hot and slick where he’s stretched around Jason’s cock. Ben shudders, fingers tightening again on the hand still curled over his hip, and Henry can see Jason staring, curious.

“Do it again,” Jason urges, “whatever the fuck you’re doing, when he comes down, do that again.”

Henry obeys, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Ben’s perineum as he sinks down, and this time Ben moans aloud, a sound that seems to come from deep in his chest. Henry can feel the spasm of muscle under his fingertips, the effort of Ben’s body trying to constrict and draw Jason’s cock deeper into him.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jason breathes. This time he rocks his hips up to meet Ben’s own, and Henry rubs slow circles against his skin again, biting into the solid muscle of Ben’s shoulder to muffle a low moan of his own. He’s partway to hard again himself, but he’s already gotten off once tonight and he’s eager now to give Ben and Jason the attention they deserve. It doesn’t stop him from rubbing against Ben, though, his cock sliding against his cleft easily; Ben shudders at that, gripping at Henry’s forearm, making a needy sound that Henry plans to file away for every rainy day in the foreseeable future.

He moves away once the pace picks up. Ben leans forward and braces himself on Jason's chest while Henry carefully lowers himself onto the bed next to Jason, propping himself up on an elbow to watch them move together. Ben is surprisingly graceful, and Henry finds that there's something deliciously surreal about leaning against Jason's side while Ben fucks himself on Jason's cock. It's almost intimidating, the way they work together, and it’s unbelievably arousing in equal measure. Jason and Ben are both large, larger even than Henry, and impressively well-built; Henry can see Ben's abs flexing, every muscle standing out in his arms and thighs, and Jason is… well, even calling him chiseled would be an understatement. Together, they manage to create a scene straight out of a gay bodybuilder’s wet dream.

Distracted by his thoughts, Henry begins to tug lazily at himself, eyes roaming freely over Ben and Jason both. Ben's eyes are closed now, mouth hanging open as Jason holds his hips and fucks into him. He looks so blissful that Henry can’t look away, and he doesn’t even seem to have noticed what Henry’s doing.

“Hey,” Jason breathes in his ear, having apparently noticed the way Henry’s attention has shifted, “you wanna take over?”

Henry squeezes his cock firmly and gazes at Ben again, eyes roving down and locking on the spot between his legs where Jason's cock sinks in. “I don’t… shouldn’t you ask him?”

“Ask me about—fuck, what, fucking me?” Ben’s starting to slow, grinding himself onto Jason's cock in slow, deliberate circles. There’s sweat glistening on his neck and temples, beading up and rolling down his chest. Henry thinks it would be nice to stretch up and lick it off. “I can probably take it.”

“There you go. Get the fuck up there, pound him and tell him you love him,” Jason says. He slaps Ben’s ass, grinning when Ben grunts at him and lifts himself slowly off of Jason’s hips.

Henry barely manages not to scramble for the nightstand again, even despite the brief wave of self-consciousness that rolls over him. He’s used to performing in front of audiences, but the scenes he’s used to filming are completely fake, all the right movements for all the wrong reasons. He reaches for a condom and then looks at Ben, uncertain.

Luckily, Ben seems to understand. “Here,” he says, gesturing and sitting back on his knees so that Jason can roll out of the way. Henry makes a confused noise and Ben leans forward, tugging him over and pulling the condom right out of his hand. “Just come here. We can do it however you want. You want anything special? Got anything in mind while we’re all still here?”

He tears the condom open and raises a questioning eyebrow at Henry, who thinks he might be unable to communicate beyond nodding. Ben rolls the condom onto him, continuing, “Anything you want for now, and we can try more later, too. But if you don’t fuck me, I’m gonna make him do it,” he says, nodding his head in Jason’s direction. “And between you and me, I’m kind of scared of him. I don’t think his dick’s ever gonna go soft.”

He yelps as Jason makes a grab at him, and all Henry can do is laugh. “No, he’s not that hard to take care of. We’ll get rid of him eventually,” he assures Ben.

After a few minutes of executive decision-making, Ben ends up on all fours with Jason sprawled beneath him, and as Henry slicks himself up he takes a moment to admire the sight: Ben’s obediently spread thighs, his ass raised and inviting, and beneath him, Jason craning his neck to lick at Ben’s cock. Henry can’t help but wonder if Ben is usually so easy-going and submissive, or if it’s just the simple fact that he can take advantage of the opportunity to be fucked by two people that’s giving him enough courage to say fuck it and let it happen. Henry’s pretty sure it’s a mix of both. He’s not exactly sure if this is a common thing that even happens in group sex, but with Ben’s ass in front of his face he can’t seem to find it in him to be bothered by it.

He moves into place behind Ben and palms over every inch of skin that he can reach. “Just talk to me,” he murmurs, and even when Ben gives him the okay he pauses, rubbing his cock slowly against Ben’s cleft, marveling at the way Ben clenches and moans. Once Ben starts pushing back against him Henry guides himself in slowly, and he finds himself fighting down a moan as he settles at last, body pressed flush against the backs of Ben’s thighs.

Ben seems to feel the same way. Henry can feel every twitch and spasm of muscle, even the tension wound through his body from the strain of holding himself up. Ben exhales shakily, head dipping down to rest on Jason’s hip. “God, you have no idea how long...”

Henry swallows. He can just see the fan of Jason’s hair on the sheets, but he has a feeling that Jason’s waiting for him to make the first move. “Probably, like… a day or two, right?”

“Right.”

They can both hear Jason snort underneath him and it’s not long before Jason’s hand is reaching up and curling around the back of Henry’s thigh. “Get a move on, buddy, I know you’re hard in there.”

“Let him enjoy it,” Ben shoots back. Henry’s about to thank him when he makes a strangled noise and jerks his hips, swearing at the low hum of amusement that means Jason’s mouth is too busy for a sarcastic comeback.

He takes that as his signal and begins to move, rocking slowly into Ben; Ben shifts his weight and groans, spreading his thighs wider with a low noise of encouragement as Henry tries to wrap his head around the basic of concept of having sex, since his brain seems to have temporarily shorted out..

“Oh, fuck,” Henry breathes. He gazes down, spreading Ben apart with his hands to watch the way his cock slides into him. “Fuck, Ben, you’re so…”

“Mph,” Ben replies, which Henry takes to mean that his mouth is also busy. His thighs are trembling, and this time Henry actually notices when he lifts his head, panting against Jason’s hip and pushing his own back. “C’mon. Harder.”

This time Henry doesn’t hesitate. He fucks in with short, steady thrusts that make Ben grunt and brace against the mattress. Even Jason encourages him, digging his fingers into the back of Henry’s thigh and pulling him forward, voice deep as he growls, “Atta boy, give it to him, fuck him, show him how good he feels. You want him, Ben?”

“Shut up, shut the fuck up, I’m gonna come on your fucking face,” Ben gasps. He’s trembling. Henry can feel it in his thighs, can tell he’s close from the ragged breaths he’s taking, and the only thing he wants to do is feel Ben shake apart under him.

Ben does come first, his body drawn tight as a bowstring and a shuddering sob of a sound escaping him as Henry fucks him forward into Jason’s mouth. Henry can’t see whether or not Ben has made good on his promise, but he does see Jason’s feet planted against the bed, his fingers slipping away from Henry to curl around the back of Ben’s neck.

“Fuck, that’s good, you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth—fuck,” Jason hisses, hips pushing up, obscured by the back of Ben’s head.

Whatever Ben’s doing seems to be good enough for Jason, and it’s good enough for Henry, too. Henry fucks into him quickly, trying to picture the dazed look on Jason’s face, the white streaked across his chin and mouth, Ben’s cock between his lips. His orgasm hits him like a freight train, breath stuttering out as he pulls Ben against him and buries himself inside. He barely registers the sound of Ben panting underneath him, and hears even less from Jason, who seems to have gone temporarily quiet as well. Henry rocks slowly through the aftershocks, and finally he stops, bowing his head and breathing hard as Ben shifts under his hands.

After a moment, Ben reaches back and taps on Henry’s hip, shifting his weight forward onto his arms. Henry pulls out of him carefully and crawls to the edge of the bed to get rid of his condom, still a little dazed himself. He hears a groan, and when he looks back Ben is rolling onto his back while Jason sits up and wipes at his face with the back of his hand. Henry can’t even tell if it’s sweat or semen he’s trying to get out of his eyes, and he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Jason catches his gaze.

“Look at you, superstar,” he says, playful despite the roughness in his voice. “Twice in one go. Lucky man.”

Henry crawls back onto the bed, sitting next to Ben’s feet. Now that he’s closer he can see the remnants of white smeared over Jason’s hand, drops of white still clinging to his beard. “Shut up,” Henry tells him. “I don’t think I’m the only one who enjoyed himself.” He gives Jason a pointed look, and Jason simply shrugs, wiping his hand on the sheets.

Next to him, Ben has an arm thrown over his eyes, and Henry isn’t completely convinced that they haven’t managed to fuck him into a semi-unconscious state. Jason places a hand on Ben’s calf. “What about you, big guy, you alright down there? Gettin’ any air?” Henry can see Ben peeking out at him from beneath his arm, and the longer he watches, the more he’s sure he can see the ghost of a smile forming on his face.

Are you okay?”

“Mm, think so.” Ben rolls carefully onto his side and Jason takes the opportunity to slip in behind him, curling a lazy arm around his waist. He won’t stay for long, Henry knows, but it doesn’t seem like any of them are in the mood to move just yet. “Just… wow. I really didn’t think this was actually gonna happen. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to move tomorrow.”

“You didn’t think it would actually happen?” Henry repeats. Ben hums in agreement and Henry narrows his eyes. “Did you think something like this was gonna happen before you came here?”

Ben stretches his legs out and Jason slides a thigh between his, knuckles brushing lazily over his ribs. He looks pretty out of it, too, though Henry knows he’ll bounce back quickly enough. “Well, yeah, Jason said to expect to be busy, s’why I showered, but… yeah. Did you really not know?”

Jason’s face is buried in Ben’s hair, but Henry doesn’t need to see Jason’s face to feel the wave of disbelief washing over him. “Holy shit,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stares for a moment, opens his mouth, and closes it again. “I thought—I thought you came over because I asked you to.”

Ben props himself up on an elbow. “I mean, yeah, that’s the only reason I’m here. I kind of… he told me but I didn’t believe him. I wasn’t gonna show up unless you actually asked me to.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Henry says faintly.

“Hey, I told you,” Jason points out, reappearing from his hiding spot in Ben’s hair, “didn’t I? I said we’d all be getting a workout, I didn’t fuckin’ lie to anyone.”

“I thought you were trying to trick me into asking!”

“Well, that too, but I had to warn him beforehand,” Jason says. He plants a messy kiss on Ben’s shoulder and pushes himself up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. There’s that second wind. “Didn’t want anyone to be surprised when it happened.”

I was surprised,” Henry insists. He stares as Jason begins to gather his clothes, pulling on boxers and jeans and his shirt, and still he manages to maintain eye contact. Henry laughs suddenly, and Jason simply grins at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair before stepping back toward the door.

“Don’t worry, bro, I had a good time too. We should do this again some time, though. Like, next week, maybe, before I go to Barcelona. Or after, when you guys get your shit sorted. Long as you guys are cool with it.”

“I’ll need at least a week to recover from this, but I’m up for anything,” Ben says. “You know, my birthday’s next week, too…”

Henry turns his head slowly, eyes narrowed at Ben. Jason makes a satisfied noise, but Henry’s too occupied with staring Ben down to pay attention to him. “Sounds great. I gotta run but I’ll see you guys in the morning, if you’re not, you know, occupied with each other. Try not to stay up all night, dude, we got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

The doorknob turns and he hears Jason’s bare feet on the hardwood, a mirthful mahalo! echoing through the hall as he rounds the corner. The door closes in the distance but Henry continues to stare at Ben, suspicious. Slowly, Ben rolls onto his back, wincing as he pulls himself up until he’s resting against the pile of pillows Jason has left. He’ll probably be sore in the morning, and Henry really doesn’t envy him. If there is a next time, maybe he’ll volunteer to take Ben’s place.

“We probably should have asked him to stay.”

“Honestly, I was kind of hoping he’d leave so we could get some alone time,” Ben admits. Henry continues to stare hard at him, and after a moment he softens, letting out a slow sigh that makes Ben frown. “Hey, c’mere. It’s been a long night.”

“You’re telling me,” Henry mumbles. He crawls up beneath Ben’s extended arm and settles against his side, curling an arm over his waist. They’re both still sticky with sweat and definitely in need of a shower, but he’s already decided that it will be nice to relax for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says after several long seconds of silence. “About not telling you he came to me first. I didn’t want to assume you were asking for this and seem like an idiot if you didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Henry smiles a little. “It’s fine. Guess we have to work on our communication skills, that’s all.” He closes his eyes, humming softly as Ben’s fingers slide through his hair, smoothing back the mess that Jason has made of it. The exhaustion has begun to settle in, and Henry thinks he could fall asleep here, curled up against Ben’s side, mess be damned.

He’s starting to doze off when Ben shifts, leaning forward to pull a pillow out from behind him before settling back into place. “Speaking of communication skills… how long ago was it for you, again?”

“Mm, probably… last month of filming, before the reshoots,” Henry replies, pausing to yawn. He remembers realizing back then that he’d been in trouble, and he also remembers the long months of longing between. Now that he knows he was never alone in it the whole thing just seems silly, all of that time spent worrying and admiring from afar. “You?”

Ben kisses his temple, the motion of his fingers still slow, soothing. “About the same. Definitely before reshoots.”

“Huh,” Henry says. “Suppose we have to make up for lost time.”

He can feel Ben humming against his skin. “I wouldn’t say that. But I do have to make up for all the time you spent with Jason instead of me.”

“That’s quite a bit of time,” Henry teases. He lifts his head and finds Ben smiling at him, his eyes impossibly warm, so fond that it makes Henry’s heart ache. Boldly, he adds, “You’ll really have to put in some extra work to make up for that.”

“I think it’ll be worth it.”

Ben leans in for a kiss and Henry hums, satisfied, closing his eyes to memorize the curve of Ben’s smile against his mouth.