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“Are Alex Horne and Greg Davies in love?”
Knowing titters and nervous giggles rippled across the room.
“Well the answer is no, but I’ll be honest with you,” he paused, pressed a finger to his lips, letting the tension build just so. “Part of me...would quite like him to fuck me.”
…Wait.
The audience erupted. That part wasn’t even meant to be a big laugh, more a light wink and nudge at that certain subsection of audience members who were entirely too avid Taskmaster fans. But it was going off tonight.
Greg’s eyes flew across the to where the Taskmaster contingent in the audience tonight was sat, up close to the stage in the stalls, Alex nestled neatly in the middle of the group. Many of their number were doubled over, laughing to tears and exclaiming to each other over the unexpected turn. Alex, however, only had eyes for Greg. He was grinning right at him in between gasping with shocked laughter, those honks of appreciation ringing out clearly even in the moment of cacophany.
There wasn’t really any graceful way to walk that back. Not that he’d want to, with the laugh it got. Instead, Greg waited for things to start to settle, then continued on with the show, but not before meeting Alex’s shining eyes with a grin and a little wink of his own.
After doing a swift stage door together and chatting with their Taskmaster colleagues, Greg and Alex shuttled back to his London flat for a drink. It was rare enough that they were able to catch each others’ shows, and rarer still that they’d have time for a late drink together these days, but Greg was determined to have Alex over and make the most of the buoyant atmosphere, despite his bone-weariness.
The relaxed conversation hit a natural lull and Greg took a big swig from his bottle, wondering if he should even try to correct the record about his little misstep tonight. Alex got there first though, plonking his own drink down with finality and turning to face Greg head on. “So…what you said, about me, uh, tonight–” he sounded a very sweet mix of amused and nervous.
Greg let out a long groan. “didn’tmeanit,” he mumbled incoherently.
“Pardon me?” Alex asked in response to the noise, his mouth twitching just slightly. Enough to make Greg want to hit him, not that it ever took much.
The man knew perfectly well what had happened. He’d seen Greg read the prompter wrong in studio plenty of times before, mix words around accidentally on repeated takes, even when they were words he’d written himself. More evidence to add to the ‘getting too fucking old’ pile, Greg thought bitterly.
“As you well know, I flipped it. Completely by accident. Fucked myself, I guess. But I figured I should just stick the landing rather than walk it back,” Greg admitted with a sigh. To be entirely fair, it’d hit much harder than normal, probably precisely because it was likely a subversion of the expectation of their usual… thing.
Alex pouted a little. “Oh. So you don’t want me to…?” He started to make a nondescript gesture with his hands that had Greg give in to the temptation to smack them down before any hips could get involved. “Ouch!”
“I’ve been delivering it the right way round for the entire rest of the tour, I swear,” he said emphatically. “Don’t want you getting the wrong idea here.”
Alex gasped out a wet laugh into his beer and had to put it down swiftly to avoid an incident. “S–so saying it the other way would have given me the right idea?” he managed to ask, coughing slightly. “Do you have an actual preference or–”
“What? No! There is no idea to get, it’s just…it’s funny. Fits with our whole, y’know, Taskmaster thing – I’m just keeping the bit going…” Greg trailed off sheepishly. He’d lost the thread of the discussion, clearly. The way Alex kept smiling indulgently at him, it felt like they were each having a different conversation entirely. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Greg wondered why his stupid brain had chosen only tonight to misspeak.
Alex scoffed, clearly bemused by Greg’s sudden discomfort. “Oh. Well. That’s a shame.”
The way Alex said it – like he wasn’t surprised, but was still disappointed – grated. Why would he ever consider that Greg would say something like that…and mean it?
“I’m just saying… maybe think about it? It’s, uh, really not off the table, not with you,” Alex began, leaning back into the couch, drink forgotten. “You’d only have to ask. For me to fuck you.” Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly as his lips struggled around the unusual expletive, but Greg could see how pink his ears were, how he needed to steel himself to turn his head and lock eyes. Like he was being entirely serious.
God help me I think he might be.
Greg took another long swig of beer, trying to compose himself. The word ‘fuck’ sounded so harsh and foreign in Alex’s posh little accent, coming out of his mouth. It was…affecting him, somehow.
He swallowed down another gulp as well as the fifteen follow up questions that dared to spill forth, for once attempting to be circumspect and not push the envelope with this particular topic, no matter how much Alex had clearly had to drink.
“I forget how fucking cheeky you get when you’ve had a few,” Greg tried, breaking eye contact first and hoping to tacitly move things on.
It worked somehow, Alex’s eyes only dropping a little awkwardly before they switched up the conversation, chatting about Alex’s shows, the band, and swapping touring tales of misadventure. Back on safe and well-trodden ground.
The last beer bottles were drained and a ride called as the night grew late. Greg followed Alex to the door, happily acting as a human support beam as Alex tipped over slightly, struggling to get his trainers back on.
“Helps if you undo the laces, what are you – twelve?” Greg laughed.
“Hush, don’t – don’t tell Rach, she’s at the boys about it all the time,” Alex admitted, lilting slightly as he switched sides and hopped, propping himself up using a hand on Greg’s belly.
When Alex stood, he was unnaturally close, having swayed back into Greg. He turned, hand still in contact with Greg’s front, and slowly slid it up until his fingers were splayed over Greg’s sternum, like he was trying to feel for a heartbeat. They stared at each other for a long moment, Alex just smiling soft and beer-stupid up at Greg before his fingers fisted into the tee, pulling Greg down into an impulsive kiss. It wasn’t a full on snog, no fireworks or flashes of light. Just a chaste press of lips against the side of Greg’s mouth and the foreign feeling of a beard rubbing against his own. A sort of phantom tickle that echoed on well after Alex had pulled away.
“I– look. I really didn’t mind hearing what you said,” Alex tried again after settling back on his heels, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Think on it a while and let me know? If you like? Or, you know, we don’t have to talk about it again.”
Greg stared down at him blankly, still processing the kiss, until the buzzing of Alex’s phone broke the silence and brought him back to reality. “Uh – right, yeah! Good night then Alex…um, thanks again for coming out for the show,” Greg rattled off a little too formally, opening the front door to see him out.
Alex, seemingly unconcerned, waved goodbye happily at the door before he trundled off downstairs and into the night. Back home. To his wife. Who apparently didn’t mind at all about the idea of her husband having a fling with a giant.
Greg stumbled straight into his bedroom and collapsed back into the duvet with a groan, steadfastly ignoring the interested twitch of his cock as he pressed his fingers to the invisible kiss spot on the side of his mouth.
It probably should have been embarrassing, how quickly Greg attempted to find a reason to invite Alex over again. Not even a couple weeks worth of tour dates, and many more mad curious Googling sessions about, well, all the ins and outs, as it were.
He’d been texting Alex here and there. A casual ‘so…have you tried it?’ here, a nonchalant ‘IF I was considering giving it a go solo…what would you suggest?’ there – it was somehow easier when he didn’t have to say these things face to face. Alex’s responses were equally casual, strangely informative, but with no repeat of his little offer.
The latest exchange occurred after Greg had attempted an ill-advised fingering session, curious to see how it might all go. He’d actually been excited to try it out; discreetly purchased some fancy specialised lube, put down a towel, got comfy and ready to start exploring, when something in his bad shoulder twinged awfully as he started to reach back and down. He’d ended the evening rolling about on the bed naked, agonised, with a healthy dose of self loathing prickling under his skin.
How the fuck does any one past fifty manage this?? Greg texted in a huff, having earlier told Alex of his intention to at least give it a go.
Oh, Greg. Are you okay? Alex had replied almost instantly.
I can fucking hear you laughing from here, you little prick.
You seem pretty serious about this, Alex responded, ignoring the name-calling.
It’s your fault, you put these ideas in my head. I thought it’d be silly not to try, see what the fuss is about.
Alex didn’t respond to the final message except to send a date and time. Was he…offering again? Greg’s thumbs paused over the cramped phone screen as he hesitated texting back a scathing dismissal. Instead, he found himself checking his calendar – the date seemed to match up well enough with his schedule – and giving the message a thumbs up. Alex sent one last reply immediately, inexplicably paired together with a pink ribbon emoji.
So exciting! We’ll see you then!
He hadn’t expected to show up to the Horne’s in time for a full family dinner, sitting awkwardly at the table between Alex and his wife as the boys bickered about being able to go back to their games.
The dinner wasn’t so awful. Once the boys were excused, the adults shared wine and Greg happily chatted away to Rachel about everything he’d been up to lately, with the exception of planning his own buggering at the hands of her husband. Maybe buggering. He hadn’t decided yet. Either way, it seemed uncouth to bring it up.
Still, the night wore on and his nervousness grew. He thought the house would be empty, but nothing on Alex’s face indicated that he was at all perturbed about doing whatever it is they were going to be doing under the same roof as his wife and children. When Rachel finally stood, and ran a comforting hand over Greg’s shoulder as she excused herself upstairs – to make sure the kids got to bed and stayed there – Greg began to get an inkling of what laid ahead.
He stood and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, which she returned without hesitation.
“Go on then you two, go enjoy the sauna!” She encouraged Greg out the door into the softly lit back garden. “I’ve stocked the shed Alex, should be everything you need there,” she confirmed at Alex’s glance. The two of them shared some unspoken moment and a soft lingering kiss that made Greg feel even more like an intruder.
“When the fuck did you install a sauna?” Greg asked, just for something to say, really, as he and Alex set off to the bottom of the garden where the new wood and glass ‘extension’ sat by the 'shed', not far from the properly nice hot tub.
“Ah. I forgot I’d be opening the flood gates for you to start bringing this up instead,” Alex sighed, resigned.
Greg snorted. “Hey, I can’t talk. You’ve used my bath,” he reassured, still knowing full well that he’d be riding the Little Rich Boy Horne bit in every interview from now on.
The sauna was already going strong when Greg finally entered in his towel. Clearly Alex had cranked all the fancy settings earlier to pre-heat it.
It wasn’t a huge space, just two simple benches designed to seat two people on each at most, one on each side of a small room. As Greg sat, checking and double checking his towel was covering everything, Alex stood to ladle the water over the exposed sauna stones. He then settled, not opposite, but right beside Greg on the same bench and let out a long sigh.
Greg stared openly at the subject of several of his recent disjointed and abstract sexual fantasies. It shouldn’t make sense, suddenly finding Alex Horne – of all people – irrepressibly attractive after ten years of nothing. Well, mostly nothing. But then, he’d been to therapy in the more recent of those intervening years. He knew that self-denial and intentional self-ignorance may have served a vital purpose once, but now really only served to hinder him getting to the things that might make him feel more complete and authentically himself.
And do those things include wanting to be fucked by your long time friend, old man? – Apparently.
Alex was leant back on his hands beside Greg, eyes closed, seemingly just enjoying the steam and heat. His head was tipped back, exposing his scruffy throat and an Adam’s apple that bobbed slightly as awareness trickled in that he was being so closely observed. Those blue eyes slowly blinked open and Greg daringly met their steady gaze as he stared back. Alex smiled, expression free of any hint of judgement.
“This doing it for you then? Seeing me all naked and sweaty?” Greg projected, suddenly coy about how obvious he was being.
“Yes, thank you,” Alex replied simply, sitting up straight to move in closer, so thigh was pressed against sweaty thigh. Greg stuttered out a nervous breath and looked for something to do with his hands. He reached for the ladle and got the steam going strong, hoping vaguely that it might cover the multitude of sins that was his naked body. Feeling assured in his own body – as part of a whole, that was, in fact, desirable to others – was still very much a work in progress.
Alex’s hand settled confidently on his towel covered thigh and moved gently up and down, testing the waters.
“This is…insane. Your wife–”
“–Is wonderful, thanks, I know. But I’m here with you now,” Alex interrupted, hand gently teasing the towel up further. Long fingers teased the sensitive skin of Greg’s inner thigh, but retreated just before they could reach his hardening cock. He was slightly mortified by the needy groan that escaped his mouth.
“F-fucking hell Alex what…” Greg was interrupted by Alex turning into him more assertively, one hand coming to rest on his sweat-slick chest and mouth following closely to kiss and tease at his neck and jaw.
Greg was very much used to performing that role. There was always the expectation that he’d be...not necessarily dominating, but at least dominant in the bedroom – that seemed to follow him doggedly from his casual encounters to his short term relationships. To have Alex so confidently manipulating his body, turning his jaw, kissing his neck, then his mouth, nothing hurried or desperate, just soft and gentle and…loving – it was all making Greg’s brain short circuit.
He tried, wanted to relax and let it happen, but fighting his mind was like plugging holes in a failing dam. He kissed back, determined to match Alex’s energy, only for his mind kick down yet another door somewhere dark and awful. Suddenly, he could see everything from the outside – his pathetic, needy gasps and nervous twitches – as he sat and let Alex just take him, control everything, kiss him like he was some weak little girl. Greg gasped, this time in shock at the vitriolic, judgemental voice that echoed up from somewhere deep in his hindbrain, and pulled away desperately.
Alex noticed the tension immediately and sat back slowly to look up at Greg’s face.
“Greg. It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything,” Alex said softly, eyes kind.
“Don’t,” Greg said firmly, trying to regain control of the situation. “Could you just, you know, get on with it?”
Alex huffed a little. “That’s not…hmm. It’s not exactly conducive to a nice time.”
“Look, I just wanted to try it anyway. It doesn’t really matter.”
“Matters to me,” Alex grumbled under his breath, but he still stood to grab a small bag of supplies by the sauna door. Alex seemed a little thrown by the change in atmosphere, but Greg was starting to feel more himself. Those…weird feelings from before held tightly in check.
“How should I…?”
“Just…maybe bend over on the bench?” Alex suggested.
Greg could feel himself exposed fully as he did so, and exhaled shakily waiting for Alex to just…do something already. A gentle hand ran up the back of his thigh to gently tease the meat of his arse and Greg groaned in exasperation.
“C’mon Alex,” he gritted out, “just start already.”
Alex hummed disagreeably, but did as he was bid. A shocking coolness in the sauna hit Greg square on the rim before a gentle questing finger began to tease, spread and press. He breathed through it, trying to concentrate on the sensation, but mostly he just felt overwhelmingly hot and sticky.
When Alex pressed in a second finger, Greg moaned through the slightly painful stretch.
“Okay, love?” Alex whispered, leaning up against Greg’s back. Both the pet name and the close contact made Greg jump in surprise and he shuddered slightly as Alex crooked his fingers inside just so. The press and rub inside, combined with Alex’s sweaty chest pressed even more into his back was stifling.
“Ungh.”
“Greg?” Alex’s voice had some of that amusement back, as Greg began to press his hips back to meet fingers that kept up that strangely delicious, insistent pressure.
He couldn’t answer, focusing only on trying to breathe. He already felt a little lost at sea without his glasses in the sauna, and the steam seemed thick as he gasped in breath after breath. Alex began to pull back, and a third, lubey finger played with his rim suggestively. On the next slide in, all three tightly bundled digits started to press in and Greg shook with the struggle to take them.
“Ahhhh…”
“You feel amazing inside,” Alex whispered. “You’re so gorgeous.”
Greg shuddered, that ugly part somewhere within hating how much those words effected him.
“So, so good for me…I knew you would be…” Alex was pressed flush up against him now and Greg could feel the press of hard cock against his flank, another reminder that he hadn’t even managed that yet. He was starting to gasp for air now in the increasingly stifling room, almost hyperventilating. Then, Alex’s lips started to tease the back of his neck just as three large knuckles finally pressed against his rim and Greg was gone entirely. Truly gone. His vision faded.
It was really only a matter of a half second in reality, but the next moment Greg was aware was as his body hit the cool air outside, followed shortly by a splash of cold water from the unpowered hot tub nearby straight to his face.
“What the fuck? Alex?”
“Greg! Oh my god…are you okay?”
He catalogued the sensations in his body for a moment. “Think I’m mostly just cold now,” Greg complained as he sat up. “Stop flitting about like that, I’m fine.”
Alex slowly put his hastily fetched phone down and glared at Greg, every inch of his stupid face set in that serious ‘Executive Producer Alex’ expression Greg usually was thrilled to see come out – as long as it wasn’t levelled at him.
“Honest, Alex. I think I just er, overheated in there.”
Alex pulled a desperately sad face. “God, I should’ve…I shouldn’t have set us up in there I forgot how you are with the heat…”
“Stop. It’s fine. It was fine,” Greg placated. He groaned as he managed himself to his feet and went to dry off in the shed.
They both cleaned up separately, and dressed in silence before Greg finally grabbed his things to go.
“Sorry again Greg, I feel like I ruined our evening…”
“You do? I’m the one who was doing a beached whale impression on your lawn, scaring you half to death,” Greg exclaimed. Alex just snuffled a sad little snort laugh as he nodded his agreement with that general rundown of events.
As wretched as he felt, Greg plastered on a smile as best he could, and slapped Alex on the back as he left, trying to regain something of their usual camaraderie. “I’ll text you soon, okay mate?”
He shuffled from the house quickly, not daring to meet Alex’s disappointed expression.
The weeks passed. The new texting habit with Alex remained, even if the topics stayed on the safer end. Greg called his psychologist. Had several short, well-contained, but necessary emotional break downs. Out of the other side of it, the thoughts, the curiousity about Alex Horne remained. The desire remained, he reminded himself.
He worked up the courage to text Alex something other than pleasant small talk one Monday evening, after a particularly thrilling gig in Bristol. It was just a date and time, a question mark, and my place. But it filled Greg with anticipation every time he saw the little thumbs up reaction on the screen.
The evening arrived, and Greg had been incredibly thorough in his preparation, determined to make the night as enjoyable and mess-free as possible. He’d even stretched, like he was preparing for a marathon, and done his bloody relaxation breathing homework. Twice. So just fuck off already Jens he projected uncharitably into the ether and toward his psych, wherever she might be. He sent a quick apology after that as well, not willing to tempt fate with any bad karma or negative energy.
When Alex finally arrived, late at night after his London Horne Section gig, Greg was nearly bouncing off the walls. He collected the other man into a bear hug in the doorway before his coat was even off, and snogged him silly.
“Greg!” Alex exclaimed, laughing as he pushed gently back to finish toeing his shoes off.
“Sorry, I think I just missed you, a little bit,” Greg said sheepishly.
“I missed you too,” Alex replied. It sounded so natural.
In moments Greg had dragged Alex back to his room and onto the bed beneath him, intent on kissing him breathless, but was stopped by a gentle palm pressed to his cheek.
“Give me a moment,”
“For what?”
“Just want to look at you,” Alex grinned, and stifled a small yawn before leaning up to press kisses to Greg’s peppery grey-bearded cheek.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but Greg found himself, in short order, shirtless and pressed down into the bed, being kissed languidly. Alex’s palm was warm and squeezed softly at his chest, before caressing him, fingers feather light over the swell of his belly.
Greg had been so determined to lead the way this time, keep things in his comfort zone, stop himself from spiraling. But clearly, Alex had other ideas...and such an overwhelming effect on him, that he’d rolled over for him without even realising.
Alex gentled the deep kiss slowly, picking up on Greg’s tension. “Are we doing okay Greg?” He asked, long fine fingers still gently cupped around the side of Greg’s neck, tickling away at his nape.
Greg sighed. “It’s not what I thought it’d be like, that’s all,” he said, wincing a little as Alex’s hand slowly slipped from its comfortable grip on his neck. He sat up, giving Greg some space then smiled patiently, in that way that made Greg want to punch him for being so nice.
“What were you expecting?” Alex asked, tone genuine and curious. He snuggled in to Greg’s side and yawned again.
“I dunno. Just…a bit more, primal? Perhaps?”– Alex snorted in amusement – “Like, you know, two men just going at each other type stuff,” Greg explained.
Alex pulled a face at the image. “You don’t want me to woo you first?” He frowned. “I really like kissing you.”
“I thought you came here to fuck me, not seduce me,” Greg complained, even as he blushed at Alex’s comment.
Alex just smirked in response. “Can’t I do both?”
The kissing continued, starting up again with chaste presses of lips to Greg’s jaw and mouth, Alex whispering a soft commentary of how lovely Greg looked and how sweet he was. It made Greg squirm and his skin itch as the compliments continued.
“Do you not find it weird? Doing this stuff?” Greg asked, pushing Alex off him gently to get some breathing space.
“Why would I?”
“Well I’m so sorry I thought you were straight–”
“Thank you, apology accepted,” Alex replied genuinely, gap-toothed grin and all.
“–or at least in a sexless and very understanding marriage with your lovely wife,” Greg finished. Alex pulled a pout in response, but only for a moment, soon distracted by straddling Greg and pressing the evidence of his interest hard against his thigh.
“Sexless, is it?”
Greg swallowed nervously. The realisation hit him hard. He really wanted Alex’s cock. Not just in his hand or in his mouth. But wanted it inside. All of Alex, pressed into him, as close as he could get. The thought left him shaking with anticipation.
He tried to say the words that had come out far too easily when he’d been on stage in front of over a thousand people just a little over a month ago. I want you to fuck me. Just say it.
He didn’t need to in the end. Alex let out a huge yawn, then shoved his face down against Greg’s chest and sighed in resignation. “Oh god. Honestly, I really really want to keep doing this Greg but…uh I think I’m too tired,” he admitted shamefacedly.
A closer look at the man revealed the truth of it. Greg could see those dark smudges under the slightly dulled blue of Alex’s eyes. The weary set of his shoulders.
“We are a pair aren’t we,” Greg snickered, then sighed.
“Ve-ery old,” Alex agreed. “I’m sorry Greg, I know you got everything, er, ready.”
Greg laughed, and stood, determined to go wash off the snog inspired sweat before crawling into bed. “Don’t worry, about it Alex, just tuck yourself in, yeah? I’m going to shower.”
Alex nodded sleepily, but managed to follow Greg into the bathroom to brush his teeth while Greg washed up. It felt comfortably domestic. Both men finally slid under the covers and were asleep in moments, Alex’s arm flung over Greg’s stomach as he spooned in close.
It was likely some very early hour in the morning when Greg woke slightly to Alex carefully getting back into bed with him. He made a sleepy sort of noise, not quite fully awake enough for words, and Alex calmed him with a light stroke up and down on his bare shoulder.
It felt right when Alex was finally back in position, pressed into Greg’s back, hand splayed over his stomach. He let out a contented sigh and drifted for a bit, not really asleep but not quite conscious, as Alex’s hand started a slow, gentle caress, up and down on his belly.
It was an odd sensation, being turned on while not really awake yet. But his cock certainly was interested in the sensations of Alex’s fingers caressing bare skin, teasing through the modest patch of hair on his tummy and chest, then squeezing and playing with his tits.
“Alex…” Greg moaned.
“Let me take care of you,” Alex whispered.
Greg nodded muzzily, awareness increasing slowly as Alex continued his campaign to have Greg hard and leaking without ever having touched his cock. A determined mouth closed around a highly sensitised nipple and Greg bucked, and cried out desperately as Alex sucked and nipped gently at each reddening nub. “Shhhh…I’ve got you, it’s alright…”
The sensations were so…strange. Greg felt like Alex was simultaneously trying to work him up and drive him insane, but at the same time wanted him soft and sleepy and entirely pliant for him. God, but he wanted to be pliant and soft for Alex Horne, his stupid overactive brain be damned.
In the pre-dawn darkness of his room, Greg finally let himself slip into that space as Alex pulled him this way and that, carefully positioning Greg onto his belly. His pants, now embarrassingly messy, were shuffled carefully down his legs and his bare arse subjected to the maddening soft caresses that kept Greg’s cock hard where it was squashed between his hips and the mattress.
“You look so good like this Greg,” Alex murmured, “So sweet for me, so open…”
And he was. Alex had him spread, vulnerable, and taking one, two then three well-lubed fingers in no time at all. It was so much better than the first time, Greg all but floating - still soft and drowsy - through the sensation of the tightly bundled fingers moving smoothly in and out, twisting, pressing. With his free hand, Alex pulled the pillows from the head of the bed and encouraged Greg to prop his hips up a bit, finally freeing his cock from the mattress. He moaned.
“Holy fucking shit, Alex…I…”
“You’re being so good for me Greg, god you’re so beautiful like this…”
The reassurance went straight to his cock and Greg bucked his hips, doing his best to hide the sob that broke free as Alex’s fingers stayed deep and pulsed against that spot inside, making his cock bounce, twitch and leak desperately.
Say it. Say it. Ask him for it. Fuck. Beg.
“Please…”
There was the sound of foil in the darkness behind him and Greg moaned as Alex's fingers slowly retreated from him, pulling gently at his soft, relaxed rim.
“Please, Alex…” Greg's voice cracked.
“What do you need, love?”
“I need you to fuck me,” Greg panted out against the sheets.
Alex didn't hesitate, but continued to move deliberately slow as he pressed inside. It was a long intense pressure, not unlike the fingers, but more solid somehow. Greg could feel the muscles inside fight for a bare moment and then give in, already so well opened by Alex’s clever hands.
His eyes could barely stay open but every other part of his body felt like a livewire as Alex began a slow and steady thrusting in and out.
“Greg, god you feel so amazing.” Alex’s voice was strained, like he was barely hanging on. “Ah – I’ve thought about this so much–”
“Fuck, Alex…”
“I knew you’d take me so well – God, you love this, don’t you?” Alex asked, keeping the strokes long, slow and steady until he was bottoming out each time, smacking their hips together.
Being fucked…or at least being fucked like this, by Alex in the dark comfort of his room, after being held close all night…it felt like relief. Greg sobbed quietly, gasping into his arms and hiding his face in the sheets, as Alex bent over and held him close, one arm wrapped tight around his chest. He stayed deep and just rocked into Greg’s body, hugging him tight.
There was a moment’s shocking realisation that he was actually going to come from this, and then Greg was spilling himself, completely untouched onto the bedsheets below.
Alex gasped behind him, and finally allowed himself to speed up, taking long quick strokes until finally he moaned Greg’s name and his hips stuttered to a stop.
Greg was unmoored. Hulled. Emptied and floating. He could barely hear what encouraging nonsense Alex was saying as he slowly, and very carefully, pulled his softening cock free.
The condom was dealt with as they shuffled around away from the mess, then laid out beside each other, panting and sated.
“Oh. Fuck me.”
“You’re going to have to give me at least a day or so…” Alex huffed out happily. His hand found Greg’s and squeezed it tight.
“I think I might be dead,” Greg managed.
“Oh, not again,” Alex moaned. Greg tried to smack him, but it turned into more of a gentle pat in his satisfied exhaustion.
The dawn light was starting to peek through under the bedroom door, and the distant muffled sound of cars and early buses could be heard outside. Greg turned to his side, still keeping Alex’s hand held tight between them, and they stared at each other for minutes as they recovered, mostly quiet, but sometimes sharing a laugh and smiling in disbelief at one another.
Alex finally wriggled his way across the gap in their bodies, unable to stay away from hugging onto Greg as tightly as he could, stuck against his sweaty body like a limpet.
“Well, there you have it – mystery solved. Are you still going to keep telling that joke?” Alex murmured against Greg’s damp neck. His tone was very self-satisfied and Greg couldn’t bring himself to even bother trying to take him down a peg or two. Alex could have this one if it meant he could convince him to do it again. And again. And again.
“Hmm,” Greg hummed noncommittally, “we’ll see.”
“Are Alex Horne and Greg Davies in love?” Greg waved a hand up at the screen, listening to the knowing titters spread in the gigantic theatre space.
“Well, let’s put it this way,” he began, pacing as he dropped his head and stroked his beard in faux thought. “It’s definitely the weirdest relationship in my life, truly! He’s such a weird man.”
The laughter built slightly, especially from those who’d heard similar on Taskmaster many times before.
“But, I’ll be honest with you,” Greg paused and pressed a finger to his lips, letting the tension build just so. He faced forward towards his biggest crowd yet, and grinned wildly.
“Part of me… quite loves to be fucked by him.”
The room erupted.