Henry had dreamed of kissing that insolent and impertinent mouth-- repeatedly and often; not their first kiss but oh how it would not be their last by any stretch of the imagination; his body pressed flush as he consumed the low moan of the decadent sound that came from Alex's mouth, that he tasted as it ripened over tongue.

His tongue sliding in between lips, his hips rolling as he unleashed that intensity that surely Alex had sensed underneath the surface.

Self-control had put it firmly in place.

There would be no pulling Henry away tonight, so Alex had better mean that he wanted to give the Prince a tour of his room, his bed-- because Henry would probably die if he didn't get a taste of Alex in some form or fashion.