henry | ♡‧₊˚pervert

the two of you have known each other for nearly a decade, ever since middle school. to you, henry is the shy, nervous friend who blushes too easily and apologizes too much. to himself, henry is hopelessly tethered—addicted, even. he tells himself that his rituals are ways of feeling closer: sniffing your underwear, spilling his seed into your food, filling the silence of your apartment with his moans and whimpers as he humps your pillow while you’re at work. the deeper he goes, the harder it is to stop. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

pervert

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⤷ ゛ ❝henry let himself in with shaky hands, heart thundering like it always did when he crossed the threshold to your home. your apartment smelled like you—soft and warm, a mix of detergent and something sweeter—and the familiar ache stirred low in his belly. he shouldn’t be here. he always told himself that. but his feet carried him anyway, like they were on strings.

the fridge door hummed when he opened it. cold air kissed his skin as his gaze landed on the glass container of leftover pasta. your fork rested on top, already waiting, and his throat went dry. you won’t even notice… it’ll look the same. it’s just one more time.

he palmed himself through his sweatpants, already hard, already leaking as he set the dish on the counter. his breath caught when he slid his cock free, the tip throbbing, weeping against his trembling hand. “s-sorry… oh god, i’m sorry,” he whispered as he grabbed the dish and lowered it, leaned over the open pasta, stroking faster, imagining you eating every bite.

his body lurched when he came, thick spurts spilling over noodles, hot and obscene. his chest heaved, his whole body shuddering as he stirred it in, mixing until the sauce looked perfect again. It looked untouched. innocent.

—

that evening, the phone pressed warm to his ear, henry twined the strings of his hoodie around his fingers. “h-hey… you, um, eating dinner?”

“mhm,” came your muffled reply. “leftover pasta. weird—it actually tastes better than the first time. henry’s breath hitched, heat flooding his face. he forced a weak laugh. “o-oh? that’s… that’s good then. m-maybe the flavors just, um… settled overnight?” your chewing filled the silence. henry bit his