Chapter Text
March 15th – Plaza Hotel, three months later
A bite.
Anthony’s tongue coming over right after, languid – the cold of the piercing’s ball nestled in that hot, wet touch – to suck his freshly bitten thumb with the same, indecent slowness he would put into sucking his cock.
Henry panted against the blond’s ear, nuzzling his nose into the hair at the nape of his neck to breathe him in and sink into him once more to wring another moan from him.
Another bite.
“Sssssht—” it wasn’t clear who he was saying this to, although the hand he was holding pressed against Tony’s mouth could be a good clue. “We said quiet.”
Judging by the way Tony arched his back to push himself against him and take him even deeper, spreading his legs a little further and tugging at the pants bunched up at his ankles, ‘quiet’ wasn’t in the cards.
Henry chuckled – a soft, purring sound – and clawed his right hand rested against the wall of what looked like some sort of utility closet, pushing his hips against that freckled ass; a little stylized heart tattooed there, on that cheek, not unlike the piercing he’d convinced him to get in his ear.
They had snuck away from the hypothetical end of that infinite wedding reception, cause Samael Magne’s daughter would never have a discreet wedding; aside from the decidedly lavish setting, Husk had counted three first courses and two second courses, as well as an exaggerated amount of appetizers and an even more worrying freedom with the open bar.
He’d fumbled in his pocket to find his sobriety token and looked longingly at the bottles of whiskey lined up behind the bartender, before settling on a lot of tonic water. Neat.
So he was perfectly sober – and Tony too – when during lunch he got a hard-on feeling the blond’s foot under the table slowly rubbing against his ankle, lifting the pant leg of his elegant suit and sending all the blood to his dick as he tried to listen to the speeches of another of Charlie’s patients: the gothic and stuttering boy he had glimpsed the night Cherri had entered the Coffré with explosive delicacy to call him to order.
When they say that Manhattan is a tiny island.
So, he and Tony had found themselves in front of an unlikely company of other guests that Charlie had probably purposely made all sit at the same table, sumptuously set, and who by very strange coincidences of life all knew each other: the boy in question – who he had discovered was called Penn – and his plus one Cherri, aka Anthony’s best friend, plus Alastor and his companion who he had dragged along without exactly announcing her presence. Niffty.
At yet another conversation about which was better, engineering – a Penn-supported option – or medicine – with a bored and arrogant Alastor – Husk had stretched an arm over the back of Anthony’s chair and leaned forward to discreetly seek his ear.
Much more discreet than his boner, that’s for sure.
Let’s get out of here.
Laughing and kissing in the elevator or against the rooms’ doors, like two teenagers, they had stumbled into the hotel housekeepers’ closet.
Tony’s hand blindly groping behind his back for the handle to lower it and almost falls backwards, pulling a stumbling Henry with him by his suspenders. The darkness, the soft smell of towels and clean sheets. Mouth still searching for the blond’s in a thick and hungry breath. The clinking of the unbuckled belt, the languid moan of Anthony as he presses his hard cock against the palm of Husk’s hand.
Husk had taken it in his hand, stifling a half moan when he had felt the blond’s hands fumbling to undo his pants, and lower them enough to let the hard cock pop out.
Henry Husker had watched the man kneel at his feet – sanctity and blasphemy – gazing up at him as he stuck out the tongue and ran it along his length until he was teasing the tip with that pierced tongue and, in that moment, he realized that Anthony could do anything he wanted to him and Henry would let him.
He had reached out to run his hands through the man’s blond hair, a caress that had become a kind of excited tug as he took the whole thing in his mouth.
He let himself be blown for a while, listening to the low moans and the liquid sound in the silence of the closet, before taking a sharper breath and yanking Anthony back to his feet; he had turned him against the wall, with some urgency, and had pulled his pants down, all the way down, lingering on that purple jockstrap that had made his mouth water.
He had snapped the elastic on the side to redden that white skin and hear him chuckle a “harder, daddy ” that had made Husk snort in amusement before he was the one to kneel and spread Tony’s cheeks to prep him. With his tongue.
Tony’s moans had made him even harder, while he pushed with his tongue to soften his hole and start fucking him a little already like this – right hand massaging his balls, from behind, still ‘sheathed’ by the jockstrap.
Fuck me, Henry, pleasepleaseplease.
As he had sunk into him, after a last kiss on the tattooed stylized heart, he had placed a hand over his mouth and a lingering kiss on his neck.
You know I like it when you scream, but this time we have to be quiet.
And here they were.
Henry’s amber gaze – drunken with pleasure – watched Tony’s left hand move down to push aside the jockstrap and take his rock hard cock in his hand, the tip swollen and red, and begin stroking it in time with the thrusts into his ass.
“I want to cum— In your mouth.” Husk panted, pressing his sweaty forehead against the back of Anthony’s neck and taking his hand off the wall to slide it under the blond’s shirt; he searched for the pink nipple, to torment the piercing and earn another moan, a bite and a lick on his thumb. “But first— You come.” he gurgled.
Anthony breathed a muffled, excited sound, continuing to masturbate as Henry sank into him in a liquid, rhythmic beat, his thighs crashing against his ass.
He left his mouth free only to search for the hem of his black shirt and lift it to hold it with his mouth, revealing the path of black fuzz on a tawny skin that started from the base of the cock up to the navel. Then he grabbed his hips with both hands, pounding in him faster.
“Oh yeah— Yes babe, fuck my ass—”
Henry hoped with all his heart that no one was passing by outside the closet at that moment, but to be honest he didn’t have enough blood in his brain to really care.
He watched Anthony stroke his cock faster and faster as he penetrated him, and he watched him tense up completely – he felt him squeeze his dick, up in his ass – and finally came with a shudder, a little in his hand and a little against the wall, before relaxing all of sudden.
Henry rode out the last moments of his orgasm, before quickly pulling out and reaching for the scruff of his neck to make him kneel in front of him again, facing him and starting to masturbate his still wet cock in front of his nose.
He watched him obediently open his mouth and stick out the pierced tongue in such a dirty gesture – gaze languid from the pleasure just consumed, hair disheveled, cheeks red and a naughty smirk – that Henry only needed two more strokes to come right on that tongue.
Anthony showed him the result, in a puddle on his tongue, before swallowing in an obvious gesture that made his Adam’s apple bob up and down; he leaned over to suck the tip and clean it completely.
Henry shuddered with such visceral pleasure that he almost got hard again.
As if nothing had happened, Anthony stood up, adjusting his jockstrap and pulling up his suit pants – light gray, pinstriped, pink shirt and black bow tie. He then reached out to start adjusting Husker as well, who was watching him, enchanted and still inebriated by the orgasm of a moment before.
“The bow tie suits you.” he commented, straightening the aforementioned dark red bow tie.
Henry cleared his throat, letting him do it, and watching him from his perspective – a little lower – as he pulled up his black pants and re-zipped them.
“And that thing looks good on you, though.”
“Hmm?”
Henry jerked his chin in a nod toward Tony’s groin, and the blond dropped his hazelgreen gaze for a moment realizing what he was talking about.
“Anh, the jockstrap. Yeah.” He grinned, a languid flicker at the back of his eyes. “I figured we’d fuck, it had to be easy to take off.”
“You figured or you planned to make it happen?”
“Whatcha think?”
Henry chuckled again, a soft gurgle, grabbing Tony by the collar and pulling him down enough to reach him for a kiss, which was cut short when three knocks came on the closet door.
“I know you’re in there, you fucking nymphos, a waitress saw you.”
Cherri’s voice came, muffled, from the other side of the closed door. Anthony hunched his shoulders with a not at all apologetic ‘oopsieee~’, while Husk silently rolled his eyes as if asking whoever was listening a ‘why me’.
“They didn’t teach you how to knock, sugar?”
“I knocked, dickhead.” Anthony chuckled again. “Hurry up and get out, cause the cake is being cut and the Disney princess’ wife is threatening to cut off the balls of anyone who isn’t there.”
Husk frowned, finishing tucking his black shirt into his pants.
“Did she seriously say that?”
The conversation continued from one side of the door to the other, while Anthony picked up the suit jacket he had taken off earlier, piled on the floor.
“She didn’t use those words, but shortly yeah.” Cherri’s voice replied, whose footsteps they then heard walking away. “Come on, I’ll wait for you at the lift. And I hate you fuckheads for leaving me alone to sit through a debate about engineering and medicine while Alastor’s little friend stared at me the whole time.”
“Aren’t you used to Penn?” Tony asked, rearranging his bow tie.
Cherri’s answer came at a dangerously high volume, from the hallway.
“I fuck him, I certainly don’t listen to everything he tells me about mechanical gears.”
Fair enough.
“So you’re Creepy Face’s niece?”
“Yep.”
“And you are the daughter of... ?”
“Nobody’s.”
“... Sure. Of course.”
Anthony swallowed in a shiver of pure panic that he tried to contain, while he watched Henry return to them with two flutes in his hands – alcohol-free – and the bow tie still crooked from before. Apparently, they hadn’t fixed it properly.
“Husky, welcome back!” perhaps he sounded a little too enthusiastic, so much so that the other raised his left eyebrow in silent question as he held out the glass.
“What were you guys talking about?”
“Orphans,” Niffty replied lightly, making Anthony go pale again.
Husk took a sip of virgin orange juice and didn’t seem to faze.
“Your boyfriend is nice, Husker, but he’s a little too good for my taste. Oh, excuse me guys!” And then, just like that, Niffty was gone leaving Husk coughing on his juice, while Angel felt himself blush.
His circulatory system had been working overtime lately.
He didn’t turn red at the thought of fucking in a closet and potentially getting caught and a simple word made him that red? He was losing his touch.
“I didn’t—” Husk tried to say, between coughs. “I never said anything about—”
“Babe, relax.” it wasn’t clear who he was telling, maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Niffty seems rather… Eccentric.”
To say the least.
Henry chuckled a little, trying to banish the discomfort.
“Yeah. Believe me, you really don’t want to know how I first met her.”
“You’re tempting me, though.”
“Trust me.”
“Alright, I’ll trust you. But, is that for real? That her and Alastor don’t fuck?”
Husk scratched a half laugh from his vocal cords, in a snort that was nothing short of ironic.
“Yeah, sure, Alastor is not really into this stuff.”
“Women?”
“Sex.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” Husk nodded knowingly, and Anthony blinked twice before smirking.
“How do you know that?”
Watching him blush slowly, trying to pretend nothing had happened, was an infinite satisfaction.
“Look at you, you hit on him.”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Henry.”
“What about my poker face?”
“Then you are a very good player but still a terrible liar when it comes to yourself.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“And touchy, too.” He clicked his pierced tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times, shaking his head reproachfully.
Henry was still decidedly red as he cleared his throat and squinted the amber gaze away, staring across the crowd gathered at Charlie and Vaggie in front of the cake-cutting table.
Anthony thought, in a flutter in the pit of his stomach, that it was rather adorable before he blinked and came back to earth.
Henry Husker had officially screwed up his brain.
“It happened years ago, I wouldn’t call it trying.”
“Oh, so you succeeded?”
“I told you to shut up.”
“Then make me.”
Anthony grinned again, at Henry’s heavy breathing and the way those amber eyes slid hungrily over his lips.
The memory of the closet was still vivid, and not just cause of the crooked bow tie.
“You want more.”
Henry’s tone was velvet on his bare skin – he imagined it murmuring directly into his ear, as he lay between his thighs, sunk into one of the Plaza king size beds.
“Husker!”
They both gasped and Anthony put a hand to his chest in the universal gesture of a missed heart attack.
He turned just in time to focus on Alastor’s black stare, who had just appeared out of nowhere next to them. Like he had spawned out of nowhere or something.
“Hey Al.” Henry greeted patiently, with a hint of tacit resignation.
“You did a great job. Mr. Magne would be a great investor, if only he weren’t so annoying.”
Tony’s hazelgreen gaze – “You know your left eye is green?” – slid to search for the shape of Samael, not far from Charlie and busy wiping away tears like any emotional and usually absent father who is unable to relate normally to his little girl.
Like any self-respecting psychiatrist, Dr. Magne was a shining example of unresolved daddy issues.
“I’m sure you can handle him, boss.”
“Obviously.” Alastor raised his left eyebrow, looking bored and almost indignant. “I asked him when we could meet for dinner to discuss the investment, and he thought I was asking him out on a date.”
Tony, listening to the chatter between Henry and Alastor, pictured Samael’s silhouette – blond like his daughter, shorter than Husk but with an adorable yet depressed Golden Retrivier-like smile – next to Alastor’s sharper one, always so cool and composed, and something inside him started to ship them.
Judging by the silence with which Henry had greeted that last statement, just before Alastor left to look for Niffty without saying goodbye, maybe he was thinking that too.
He cleared his throat.
“You think that—”
“Yup.”
“Even though… ?”
Henry shrugged, nonchalantly.
“There can be many types of relationships, even without romance or sex. Alastor hasn’t been this interested in someone since—” he paused, thoughtful, before blinking a couple of times. “Since I’ve known him, I guess. And I’ve known him for a long time.”
“Interested?” Anthony looked back at Samael, who had been joined by Alastor, who was apparently introducing him to Niffty. He grinned. “I’d say they might end up fucking in the closet like us, if I didn’t know Creepy Face doesn’t fuck.”
“What do you mean?”
Tony and Henry turned, like two gossipy old ladies, to focus on Cherri and Penn who had just arrived behind them. Not far away, Charlie was feeding Vaggie the first slice of cake, to the applause of the other wedding guests.
“Nothing.” Anthony tried to divert the conversation, waving his left hand in a very ‘Italian’ way to swat the matter away. “Long story.”
“Don’t tell me you hit on Henry’s friend.”
“Not me, he hit on—”
“What the fuck, Tony, I said no.”
“You haven’t gotten any better at lying in the meantime”
“Oh shut up you two, I want to get the bouquet!”
Anthony got elbowed in the stomach by Cherri, who practically pushed him aside to go front line and join the girls eager to grab the flowers.
He watched Penn swallow, vaguely anxious, and loosen his mustard-colored tie.
“Don’t worry, Penn,” Tony reassured him, giving him a couple of loud pats on the back. “She wants to take it just to set it on fire. She doesn’t really believe in marriage.”
“Oh. Good, but I didn’t mean to say—”
Tony missed the other man’s stutter – which had started with a series of excuses that made the situation worse – because he slid over to look at Henry, as if he’d been chasing some unknown tangle of thoughts.
He found his amber eyes waiting for him there, with a smile and a lot of things inside.
It was another one of those silences that made a lot of noise.
He thought about Henry’s failed marriage, but about how a lot of good things had come out of it: if he hadn’t divorced them, they wouldn’t have met. If they hadn’t met, Henry wouldn’t have started his healing journey so he could see his daughter more often. If they hadn’t met, Anthony might never have let Valentino go completely, much less reported him.
If Henry hadn’t believed in marriage, all those years ago, who knows how it would have gone.
Life is a strange thing, Anthony thought. It gives you tons of possibilities but doesn’t give you any rules; you have to learn to create them. You have to learn to make mistakes, to fall, to start all over again even when it seems impossible.
And sometimes your ‘all over again’ is someone you never thought possible: a grumpy bartender, a gambler in treatment, an AA who loves you like you never thought possible.
Anthony heard a roar of applause and laughter; he jerked his gaze from Husk to Cherri, who had practically climbed on top of Niffty to grab the bouquet and was waving it triumphantly, amid Charlie’s laughter and Vaggie’s amused, almost exasperated look.
He felt a familiar tingle and looked back at Henry Husker – and in that moment, the whole world around them froze in a muffled silence, as if someone had turned off the volume and left only the sound of their breathing and the beating of their hearts.
Anthony Scavo heard, in that silence, a question that he didn’t want to say out loud but that made him smile and think back in a rapid and confused kaleidoscope to all the moments of his life that had brought him there: from when he started shooting porn for Valentino to the times when the clients, friends of Val, had beaten him. From when he had thrown a bowl of porridge in the face of one of the patients in the rehab facility, in the midst of withdrawal, to the day he had left and Val had come to pick him up, claws tightening on his soul.
Ever since Henry had woken up next to him, in that motel bed where he took his clients, and had asked him a confused and sleepy “... And who the fuck are you?”.
Tony stood there smiling at him as the audio around them got louder and time started to flow again.
I’m the loser you never knew you were waiting for.
the end