They get to the tables with the guys, who’re watching with varying levels of amusement, and finally Ritter drops him on the padded bench. Matt bounces and nearly slides right off. Ritter manages to catch him, one firm hand planted on his chest, pressing him down. “Stay,” he orders and Matt sucks in a sharp breath as something in him goes molten hot. OR Matt's got a bit of a Ritter sized problem.

“I don’t have a small dick, idiot,” Alex openly laughed, a stark contrast to Henry’s quiet, reserved chuckle, “I have no dick.” Henry stared at him for a moment and Alex just looked back at him, taking a sip of his drink. “Funny,” he said with a flat voice, indicating that he did not, in any way, find it funny. “Well,” Alex moved to clarify, tilting his head to the side for just a moment, “I supposed I do. But it’s currently tucked away in my hotel room. And I’m not sure if you count t-dicks in what you’re referring to.” “I… don’t know what that means.” Alex laughed again, shaking his head this time, “Of course you don’t.” “Shall I google it?” And Alex couldn’t help but egg him on. “Oh, definitely. When this event is over, you should open up your laptop, pull up that special website you go to for your alone time and type ‘T-Dicks’ into the search bar. I promise it won’t disappoint.” OR Henry does as Alex suggests... and Alex is obsessed with how Henry looks when he falls apart. Lots of sex ensues.