Title: Clearly
By: goosie
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Bobby Dawson/Henry Andrews
Warnings: Uh... porn. And then there's the fact that it's gay porn soooo...
Status: One-shot
Summary: It's Henry's birthday...
A/N: This an extremely freaking late birthday gift to my dear moira_fae11. Have you noticed I always give porn as birthday gifts? Hmm... curious. XD

Clearly, this is all Henry Andrews' fault. It had been all the other man's idea to celebrate his birthday with a movie marathon, popcorn and a ridiculous amount of Captain Morgan.

So now here they are, drunk out of their minds and trying desperately to remember how long it takes to cook top ramen when Henry finally stops giggling. This isn't entirely strange by any means. It is just that Henry has been giggling pretty much incessantly since they cracked open that bottle of rum he holds in his hands. The sudden silence is what prompts Bobby to turn away from his careful study of the pot of noodles that has yet to start boiling.

When he does turn around he's captivated by the sight before him. Henry Andrews is pink faced and biting his lip as he clutches what remains of their bottle of rum to his chest. Bobby lips part just a bit, the idea had been to ask Henry if he was doing alright but that plan has left him suddenly.

"I'm really having fun, Bobby." Henry says—his voice quiet and soft. "The movies are great. And really, you didn't have to buy me that sound system."

Bobby just smiles and blushes accordingly. "Aww c'mon... That's what friends are for, right? How else are you gonna ever get cool crap you'd never buy for yourself?"

Although, really the truth was when you really like someone--possibly more than friendly--you tend to do crazy things. Like spend ridiculous amounts of money on things you know they'd like. Things like surround sound systems for their televisions.

"An' besides... think of it this way. I'm over here most of the time anyway. So I'll be getting just as much out of it as you are." He reasoned, possibly more to convince himself than the man in front of him.

Henry just smiles at him shyly and for some reason Bobby's thinking that his last stitch effort at not seeming like the creepy dude with the man crush on his best friend has failed miserably.

"Uh... yeah..." Henry starts, his head dipping toward the floor.

There is an awkward silence between them now. One Henry uses as an opportunity to take another swig from their bottle of rum. Bobby could blame the alcohol in his system for the way he's staring as Henry tips his head back, his neck exposed just so, giving Bobby and unobstructed view of his Adam's apple as he swallows.

And when exactly had Henry's neck become so attractive?

Before he knows it he has crossed the small space between the stove and the refrigerator and is gently tugging the bottle away from Henry's mouth. A mouth that Bobby had always thought was attractive. Especially now wet with rum and Henry's tongue as it swipes across it.

The shorter man looks at him curiously, giggling a bit. "I was gonna share, ya know."

"I know."

It isn't until now that Bobby notices that his hand was still clasps over Henry's; both of them holding the neck of the bottle now. Henry's hands are warm against his palm and a little damp from spilled rum and sweat. His fingers flex underneath Bobby's own as he offers the bottle to him.

Bobby's body is already humming with the effects of his obviously tipsy state. It's fuzzying effects aside; it has made him strangely hyperaware of any and everything Henry.

Alcohol has also pretty much made Henry completely pliant. Bobby easily takes the once death gripped bottle from the younger man placing it on the top of the fridge.

"Aww..." Henry pouts... and Bobby can't help but notice that he does so adorably. "Why is the rum gone?"

"Cause we've both had enough." He replies.

This is when he realizes just how close they are. When Henry's barely brushing against him, the sound of fabric rustling as the shorter man squirms and tries to reach for the bottle.

"I said no." Bobby laughs as Henry turns and he's forced to grab both of the man's arms and pin them to his sides.

"But it's my birthday." Henry giggles drunkenly. "An' I want more rum."

"Later, Captain Giggles..." Bobby insists. His arms still secure around the other man.

There's nothing overtly sexual about it. They wrestle all the time. Sometimes for prizes... like the TV remote and sometimes out of sheer boredom. Neither of them has ever had a problem with it. And this has always surprised Bobby actually, because he's gay and Henry knows it. He's never kept this fact from his friend. And while most other men would shy away from such a close contact activity with a man that could potentially see them as more than just a friend, Henry has never hesitated not even once.

But that didn't mean that any other type of touches would be welcomed however and Bobby knows that.

Yet, this hasn't kept him from edging the line from time to time. Like now when his nose just so happens to brush into Henry's dark hair and he inhales sweat, some vague lingering of apple scented shampoo and a smell that doesn't really have any other suitable title except well... Henry. He's tells himself he's too drunk to know just how really pathetic he's being. Ignoring, of course, the fact that he's been thinking pretty clearly all this time (well except for the fact that he's yet to figure out why those noodles aren't boiling).

His mind is rambling on so that he hasn't noticed that Henry has gotten his arms free or that they are now laid on top on his own that are still wrapped around the other man's waist until Henry murmurs, "Why do you do that?"

He apparently also hadn't noticed that he was still practically nuzzling Henry's hair.

"Do... what?" Bobby asks hesitantly, repressed horror lingering in his throat.

"Smell me." Henry says. There's laughter in his voice or at least that's what Bobby hopes he's hearing.

Amusement and ridicule he can take. Disgust... not so much.

"I... wasn't?" He protested weakly.

Henry laughed outright at that. "Yes you were. I know when I'm being sniffed Bobby Dawson." He says as he looks over his shoulder at the other man, a questioning eyebrow raised. "Do I smell bad or something?"

Bobby's blush lights his face on fire. "Uh... no," He stutters. "'course you don't."

By now Bobby's trying to get as far away from Henry as possible as not to make an even bigger fool of himself...but Henry's not letting his arms go.

"So...I smell good?" Henry questions.

Bobby squirms under the younger man's gaze. "'course you do."

Henry smiles at him brightly and Bobby attributes it to the rum. "You smell good too, Bobby."

Okay, at this point Bobby knows that his blushing is more than obvious and he really, really should not be so close to this man. Because when Henry smiles at him like that it makes him breathless. He's adorable, sweet and one of the greatest friends he's ever had and if he fucks this up by being an idiot he'd never forgive himself.

Henry has turned around now. His hands are fisted in Bobby shirt and he's staring at him like there's something he wants to say but he can't quite decide on how to phrase it.

"Heya, buddy," Bobby interrupts this thought process because clearly it could only lead to trouble. "Why don't we forget about the noodles and just have some more popcorn or something? Watch another movie?"

Henry shakes his head. "Nope, I dun wanna." He says quietly, burying his face in the front of Bobby's t-shirt.

"Well what do you wanna do?"

When he doesn't get an answer he sighs. "Hen..."

"Bobby?" Henry's giving him that focused look again but now he's biting his bottom lip.

"Yeah, Henny?"

"Do you like me?" The question sounds so innocent that at first Bobby almost convinced himself that it was just that.

"'course I do."

"No..." Henry hesitates, "I mean... really... like me."

Bobby sighs again his eyes fluttering shut in a mixture of anxious nerves and frustration as he finally says, "I know."

This was not how Bobby had expected this to go. He'd always figured he'd wait until they were both old and gray and Henry was on his death bed. And when Hen's wife and children, and grand children and great-great grand children had left the room and the two of them were all alone...

But this—some twisted mockery of a live action Disney movie with a pair of thirty something guys blushing and giggling and asking if the other like-liked them like a pair of twelve year olds—also not what he had in mind.

He once again blamed the rum.

Bobby's eyes fly open when he's feels the first hesitant brush of lips against his own, but he doesn't move an inch. In fact he's so frozen to the spot with pure and utter shock that Henry practically pulls him by the shirt until their lips are pressed more firmly together. Bobby's eye lids are suddenly very heavy and he can't help but give in to the careful tongue that has apparently made it its aim to gently coerce his lips apart.

And suddenly here they are... Kissing. Henry clinging to him like more than his balance depended on it and Bobby with his arms loosely wrapped around the younger man's waist. Bobby is tasting nothing but rum and is intractably determined find out what's underneath it. But just as he makes his earth shattering discovery, reality is back with a vengeance and he's pulling away so suddenly Henry nearly falls on top of him.

Henry is obviously confused if the owlish blinking is any proof.

"Hen..." Bobby starts. "This is a really, really bad idea."

"Oh." Henry's already blushing cheeks go even redder to match is shining red ears. And even though the puff of air had sounded like pure disappointment, Bobby couldn't help but notice just how perfect Henry Andrews looked all pink and glowing.

"I just thought..." Henry stutters at first but finds some sort of lingering bravery no doubt aided by the alcohol. "It's my birthday. You said... anything I wanted." Henry gives him a weak smile and adds, "I... er... I want you."

Oh there is no other good excuse for the wave of toe curling lust that causes.

"Henry..." Bobby nearly chokes, but before he blurts out his compiled list of excuses as to why the two of them having sex, let alone drunken sex is a very bad idea, Henry is all too close again.

His hands cautiously inching up Bobby sides, over his shoulders, "It's okay," and around his neck pulling a wide eyed Georgian down, "I know what I'm doing," for another toe curling kiss.

As Bobby closes his eyes, weak and helpless in the face of Henry Andrews and kisses back, he's making himself believe that Henry really means this and that's he's not just drunk out of his ever-loving mind. He believes that those fingers curling and tightening in his hair are sure and not just fumbling for something to hold on to and that tongue in his mouth isn't just curious. (I mean because really a mouth isn't just a mouth right? The person attached to it is important too.) Oh god... and that moan is certainly not just a figment of his imagination.

When Henry pulls away Bobby finds that he can do nothing but stare. He watched as Henry licks his lips before tugging gently on the bottom one in worry, thought... hesitation? Who knew?

"Can we?" he asks, his hands once again fisting in the sides of Bobby's shirt. "I mean... if... you..."

That was the Henry he knew... and loved... shy and hesitant and infinitely polite. Maybe it wasn't the alcohol talking. Maybe Henry really did know exactly what he was doing and exactly what he was asking for.

It's these hopeful thoughts that convince Bobby to lean in and kiss the other man again and keep him clutched tightly to Henry as the younger man coaxes him back into his bed room and down with him into the bed.

Their kissing is hot and deep. Leaving the both of them breathless and craving even more of the other. Bobby's hands have a mind of their own as they slip underneath Henry's clothes, trailing up unfamiliar territory and trying to memorize every bit of it. He gratefully sucks on and swallows every whimper and moan Henry offers up. He's still in a haze of shock that this is even happening but tries to soak up every second of it despite it all.

Even if Henry wakes up in the morning and never wants to speak of this again, Bobby will agree but he won't ever forget.

How could he ever forget these wonderful sounds the other man is making or the way he thrusts his hips up against his and the sensations it causes.

Henry's hands are starting to wander too, bravely leaving the safety of Bobby's hair to venture into his shirt to press their warm palms against his sides. Bobby's hips jerk in response to those hands on his skin and Henry whines and fists those hands in his shirt tugging it up and over Bobby's head insistently. Bobby takes this as permission to divest Henry of his own and this becomes just the start of this silent challenge. Henry takes his cue to reach for Bobby's zipper which the other man eagerly allows.

There is much wriggling and rustling of fabric and breathless moans as well as laughter and soon there is nothing separating them from one another. Bobby stubbornly resists the urge to shudder when they first rub together. He's balancing precariously above the other man on the palms of his hands, panting with his eyes half closed. He can't seem to take them off of Henry though as the younger man groans long and deep, his head tilting back as his eyes roll in the back of his head.

Bobby is fascinated with the sight. So much so that he rolls his hips again, nudging Henry's erection with his own. His arms nearly giving out as he groans, "Fuck!"

Henry's hands are clawing at his back and shoulders, one coming to once again rest in thick curly hair.

"Oh... please, Bobby. Please." He begs and Bobby can't help but comply.

They move together and pant together. Bobby on to the side of Henry's neck where he's buried his mouth and nose breathing back in the scent of sweat and sex and Henry Andrews. And he can't help but want more but he's too afraid to ask. Henry hadn't stated exactly what he'd wanted and he didn't want to push too far.

But before he can think on it some more or build up the nerve, Henry is tugging on the hand full of hair in his grip, guiding Bobby's mouth to his own. Henry groans again as his hips buck up against Bobby's again. "Oh god... please, Bobby. I want you... so bad. Please? Please, fuck me."

It's soft and airy and if he'd hadn't been looking right into Henry's eyes and hadn't felt the other man's lips moving against his own he wouldn't have wrote it off as some voice in his own head. And if he hadn't felt it, he wouldn't have believed that mere words could cause such an incredible wave of lust.

He could only answer with a slight nod of his head but it was enough to get the birthday boy to smile at him.

But did he really have a clue what he was asking?

"We're gonna need something..." Bobby whispers finally.

Henry replies by beginning to squirm underneath him a bit and it's a moment before Bobby finally figures that he wants up. He lets Henry roll over on to his stomach and reach off and into the drawer of his nightstand. The blushing man returns with his prize clutched to his chest much like that bottle of rum had been earlier and offers it to Bobby in much the same way.

It was cute and sweet and incredibly hot all at the same time, leaving Bobby helpless to fight the urge to lean down and kiss the other man as he carefully plucked the proffered tube of lubrication from Henry's hand.

Bobby kissed and sucked and nibbled everywhere he could reach as his prepared the both of them. Watching Henry as the man wriggled, whimpered and blushed as his slicked fingers worked him open. Henry watching him in turn wide, shiny brown eyes as Bobby slicked himself up with a few strokes of his palm.

Those eyes stayed on him even as Bobby wheedled Henry onto his belly, then up on his hands and knees. Those bright eyes only closing when Bobby first brushes his cock against Henry's opening. That dark head of hair sags down between his shoulders as Henry whimpers and moans Bobby's name. Bobby's hands are reassuring as he rubs them up and down the blushing skin of Henry's back. His hands coming to rest on Henry's hips as he pushes forward and Henry presses back into the welcomed invasion as the tip of his dick slips inside.

"Oh god..." If Bobby had thought that Henry's skin had been warm it was nothing to when compared to what it felt like to be inside of him. He pushes further inside, his eyes clinched tight and a few curses dangle off the tip of his tongue.

Henry does curse however and it's something between a sob and the actual coherent words and it just prompts Bobby to pull out a little and thrust back in hard. This is the beginning of it. Sweat, heat, panting, hands, noises and spilled words that neither of them even realizes are being uttered. And Henry begs. Oh god, does he beg and it's the most arousing thing Bobby has every heard. It makes him thrust even harder, faster, anything that passes across those lovely lips of Henry's. He's always noticed those lips too. Always wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to feel them wrapped around him.

Bobby reaches around and pets Henry's stomach, down to his groin and back again. He wraps his hands around the other man's cock and began to stroke, producing the most interesting sounds. His fascination with the noises Henry can make is probably a bit strange. But Bobby Dawson has always been a bit strange. And he figures that Henry should know how good he is. How tight and hot and perfect he is. So he tells him over and over muttered against the feverish skin of the other man's back and listens to him whimper in response to it all.

Henry comes first; babbling and pushing back into him and then back into his hand nearly frantic. He would have given anything to see his face then. Did he bite his lip? Were his eyes closed tight or opened wide. But the sounds, they were enough for now and the feeling of Henry's body as it clamped down around him. And Bobby thrusts back inside only a few more times before he too was even more of a babbling mess. Clinging to the other man as he spilled every embarrassing endearment that he'd ever secretly thought of when it came to Henry Andrews.

The bed was warm. That was a good thing. And Henry was just as hot as before. He knew this because he was still wrapped around him. Even after they'd both collapsed into boneless heaps. His eyes were heavy and he couldn't think of a single thing to say at the moment so Bobby had resigned himself to just staring. Henry was looking back at him with a silly little grin. His bottom lip was redder than usual and little a bit swollen. "So... he did bite his lip then." Bobby mused as he leaned forward to kiss it and make it better.

Then suddenly Bobby did think of something to say.

"Happy Birthday, Henny." He murmured as he ran his fingers through sweaty dark hair. Henry just scuttled closer, snuggling into him and before long he was breathing slow and deep. There was something else Bobby wanted to say of course. But he figured it could wait 'til morning. He wasn't going anywhere and by the looks of things Henry wasn't either.