The feeling, this time, is deeper, and his orgasm builds slower. But it almost feels better. Each buzz of pleasure isn’t just felt between his legs—it spreads up his torso and down his arms, tingling in his fingers, and it makes his thighs begin to shake as it slides all the way down to the balls of his feet. His sounds are quieter, but they’re certainly still there. There’s so much happening, and yet he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. He feels calm. Safe. Protected. He feels loved. — Or, Henry is trans, and Alex eats him out until he cries.

“Auntie Pezza, or Percy if you’re boring,” Pez grinned, gesturing to themself before their hand moved towards Henry, “Hen, Henry if you’re boring, or His Royal Highness Prince Henry if you’re really boring.” “Oh shit, like the Prince of England, Prince Henry?” His eyebrows shot up and he grinned, “I didn’t expect you to be…” “Gay?” “Hot,” He snorted, looking Henry up and down in a way that made him feel like a piece of meat. He didn’t particularly dislike it, “I’m Alex. First Son Of The United States, if you’re boring.” Pez laughed, and Henry let himself crack a grin before speaking, “Punk FSOTUS? Didn’t expect that one, I can’t lie.” OR Prince Henry meets Alex, the First Son Of The United States, at a very boring upper-class party, and spends the next few months planning to get this man into his bed.