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Greg isn't bored of Alex. The idea is preposterous. If nothing else, there hasn't been time. They've been nothing but whatever kind of D/s comedy duo they are for years, until halfway through Lockdown 2, when Greg accidentally got completely off his tits on some unlabeled liquor and called Alex's wife to confess everything.
Lockdown hadn't treated Greg well.
Rachel had been politely confused more than anything else, which would have been fair just given the fact he was absolutely pissed at 4 PM. When she'd managed to calm Greg down, he was shocked to hear that she wasn't furious. Actually, it almost sounded like she pitied him, but not in a "wants what he can't have" way; it was much more of a "doesn't have the language to ask" thing.
Greg learned just a whole lot of things very quickly, but it turned out in his favor. There are boundaries and rules, but the things that he's not allowed are things he didn't really want. He's not in love with Alex, in the conventional, romantic sense. Sometimes he worries that he loves Alex like you love a dog, a thing that is faithful and adores you mindlessly. He'd be heartbroken if he ever lost Alex, but ultimately, he'd move on.
Rachel, fortunately, is deeply in love with her husband, though she doesn't seem to get the point of humiliating or hurting him. Rachel's in this for the rest of her life, long past the point where Greg will probably find someone else.
So they lick the platter clean, et cetera. Tag-teaming this shit is so much easier than Greg expected, in a way that makes it seem very much like it's too good to be true.
It's only been a few months, which has absolutely not been enough time to get bored or tired, but there's just so much to Alex. He's so fucking weird, and now that Greg has permission, he wants to just peel Alex open and see what's in him. Greg, unfortunately, found out sometime during Taskmaster series two that he completely got off on what Alex would let him do, in front of anyone, everyone.
The issue is not one of having no options; it's one of being paralysed by choice. Alex is the idea man, but Greg has to do this one. And he's starting to feel the need to do something that requires homework, because Alex is not physically present most of the time. They have a nanny, so the kids aren't as big of a deal as they could be, but it's not like Alex is dropping everything every other night to come to London, just to let Greg do things to him.
So, because of all that, he's watching No More Jockeys.
He kind of doesn't understand No More Jockeys. The game is fine, and Greg is actually quite good at it, but the game provides the barest framing for a show that is very weird. Greg finds it interesting from his point of view because it has the weirdest BDSM vibe. He can't decide if he's a monster for calling that. You could just as easily say that it feels like kids from sixth form making each other do silly dares, but it's been a long time since any of them were in sixth form.
In Set 4, something very interesting happens. Alex has a lot of money. Greg doesn't know how much, because he chooses not to ask. He also chooses not to look into which one of them has more money; it's probably Alex, but Greg doesn't get into those kinds of pissing contests. But in this particular game, Tim starts going after Alex about being rich, and Greg can tell that he is genuinely upset.
That's fascinating. Alex almost never shows his hand; mostly Alex is as he appears, pleasant and happy to please. But there's a crack showing, and something in the dark part of Greg that touches the dark part of Alex makes Greg want to wedge into it and pry it open like a paint can.
So Greg makes a plan. He does some poking around, because he's learned he's never the first one with an idea. Turns out there's quite a bit on the subject, most of it regarding how dangerous and dark of an idea it is to go there.
Perfect.
Greg and Alex are alone in Greg's flat; with very few exceptions, that's where all of this lives. Alex has a thing for Greg sitting down in the oversized chair in the corner of his bedroom. Greg has no doubt whatsoever that it's a Taskmaster thing, but given that he very much is the Taskmaster, Greg doesn't mind. Also, the room isn't huge, and it's just a few of Greg's big steps before he can push Alex over the bed.
Alex is standing there, waiting, still fully clothed except his shoes. Greg is studying him, trying to decide whether to take the leap.
"Young Mister Horne," Greg says, because he was always going to. He taps his fingers on the arms of the chair. "How much of your money is your money?"
Alex looks puzzled. "All of my money is Rachel's money too."
"All of it?" Greg says, raising an eyebrow. "You don't keep any of it back for yourself at all?"
"I, um- well, it's just that we each have a certain amount of money that's for our own pockets," Alex says, now looking suspicious.
"Seems a little unfair when you're swimming in it," Greg says, and Alex just doesn't say anything. He doesn't move, but somehow he rolls up like a bug at the same time. Greg basically has no idea how to deal with the fact that he lives for that shit, but for now he turns that particular alarm off. "You really hate talking about money."
"I really do," Alex says, wincing.
"Afraid I'm going to treat you different when I realize you're loaded?" Greg says.
Alex looks betrayed. "Greg-"
"Shush," Greg says. "I think you may be getting off a little light in this arrangement."
"What do you have in mind?" Alex says, sounding unsteady and unsure.
"What if I told you I was going to make you spend your money as I saw fit?" Greg says, judging Alex's reactions.
Alex has seized up a little, like he doesn't even know how to ask anything; Greg wasn't not expecting that. Alex's frown deepens. "Would you spend-"
"Ah ah ah," Greg interrupts. "I wouldn't be spending anything. You're gonna buy what you're told, when I tell you." He lets it fall away for a moment. "You can say no. This is an offer, not an order."
"Um," Alex says, fidgety, caught out. "I'm terrified but also I don't want to say no." Greg doesn't notice and can't help how his lip curls. Alex shakes his head. "I thought you hated this sort of thing. You said that's why we had to stop the contestants buying you gifts."
"I did hate that, but this isn't the same thing," Greg says.
"It isn't?" Alex asks.
"None of the contestants owe me like you do," Greg says, and Alex breathes in sharply. "I'm awfully good to you for free. Do you think that's fair?"
"No, sir," Alex says softly.
"Do you agree to do what I want financially?" Greg asks.
"I- I think so," Alex says.
"Good," Greg says. "We can talk about limits later. First, buy socks."
"What kind of socks?" Alex asks, clearly thrown, which was the point.
Greg laughs. "Oh, you thought this was going to be easy?"
"In retrospect, I don't know why," Alex says. "Are they for me or you?"
"They're socks, little boy," Greg says, watching him dangle. "You ought to know what socks are by now. I want them wrapped, and I want to see the receipt."
"Is there a recommended price?" Alex says.
"Does this look like an office gift exchange to you?" Greg says. "You. Socks. This isn't brain surgery."
"Yes, sir," Alex says. "Shall I do it now?"
"Absolutely not," Greg says. "You've got work to do."
"Of course," Alex says, sinking to his knees, and the night turns back towards where it was headed.
--
Alex doesn't ask any followup questions, and Greg doesn't offer any explanations. He's already decided that if Alex doesn't pull through, that's the end of it, he won't push any farther.
But the next time they're alone together, Alex presents Greg with a flat box with a ribbon on it. Another person would have tried to make it look slick and polished; Alex has gone with a box that is almost garishly colored, which suits him better. Greg feels a rush of power that's both ridiculous and incredibly sexy. Greg made Alex do that, spend money, waste money.
"You said socks," Alex says, a little embarrassed and hesitant, the way Greg likes to make him look.
"That I did," Greg says. He puts the box on his lap and plucks at the ribbon; it comes apart, and he lifts the lid.
There are two pairs of socks. They're both brightly colored, but Greg likes a bold sock. They're both the same color, but one has little pictures of cats, and the other has little pictures of mice.
"The receipt is underneath the, um, foam packing thing," Alex says, sounding nervous. "They should be the right size, but if they-"
"I see you bought yourself a pair while you were buying," Greg says.
"You just said socks," Alex says, and now he looks miserable.
Greg grabs him by his shirt and pulls him down, kissing him hard. Alex is a wonder, a miracle, and the amount of fulfillment Greg feels over some fucking socks is immeasurable. Leave it to Alex to turn this into something sweet when Greg was trying to unsettle him.
"Good boy," Greg says, and Alex's face undoes him, makes him pull Alex back in so he won't have to deal with how happy Alex looks.
It's just the way Alex is- so thrilled, eager for approval, sweet, so kind. Sometimes Greg hates it, and sometimes he craves it more than he's ever wanted anything. When Alex looks like that, he can't imagine ever giving Alex up, though he knows that he eventually will need to.
He makes Alex ride him right in his chair, because it's intimate and tricky and messy, all things that make Alex uneasy. It seems like that's when Alex likes him best, like he gets some kind of rush from being made uncomfortable.
Greg doesn't find that surprising.
--
"You're going to buy me a toy," Greg says, the next time it comes up, which is a few weeks later. He intends to monitor how much these things are costing, but he wants to fuck with Alex a little more, make him work harder.
"What kind of toy?" Alex asks.
Greg smirks. "All the information is on the task."
"You didn't give me a task," Alex protests.
"You'll find that I did," Greg says, looking at him over his glasses.
"That's not-" Alex starts, then apparently thinks better of it. "Yes, sir." He thinks to himself for a moment. "Um, if I may ask, how long have I got?"
Greg was intending for this to be open-ended, but he thinks about it. Alex stayed over, and it's 11 AM on a Saturday. The intention is for Alex to go home tomorrow, so there's some time, and Greg really enjoys being an asshole. "You have ninety minutes."
"What?!" Alex says.
"Ticking into eighty-nine," Greg says. "And you have to tell everyone who asks that you're buying it for the Taskmaster."
"Can I borrow your car?" Alex says, with the look of a man who came up with a plan far too quickly. He's dressed, thankfully, and he struggles into his shoes without untying the laces.
Greg tilts his head towards the kitchen. "Keys are on the hook."
"Thank you," Alex says, and he grabs his wallet and phone and is gone.
Greg makes tea just so he can have something to do. He's enthralled with the idea that Alex was so sure, like his brain ticked over immediately into what it would take to please Greg. It makes Greg feel like his insides are full of live coals, like a powerful thing, even though it's really just fucking around.
Alex is back in under an hour, but Greg really isn't shocked.
"Half of it was parking and unparking," Alex says, which also isn't shocking. He's got one of the reusable bags from the boot of Greg's car, and it looks to have more than one item in it.
"Present me with your findings," Greg says, not getting up from his chair, which has been pushed back from the table to look outwards.
"I feel like a traditional solution is best," Alex says. He hands Greg a bundle of rope and wood, and Greg shakes it out. It's one of those toys with a wooden disk with holes in, threaded onto rope that passes through two handles.
"What is this called, anyway?" Greg asks, stretching it out, one handle in each hand.
"A whizzer, I think," Alex says.
Greg makes circles with the handles, twisting the string over and over. "I'm sure this is here just to deflect and wind me up, but I love these things." Finally he yanks it taut, and the disk makes a pleasing whirring sound. Greg does it another time, just because Alex looks anxious; surely Alex knows this isn't going to get him. Greg is tempted to keep playing with it until Alex gets pissed off, but he has other affairs to attend to. "Is that all you've got?"
"No, sir," Alex says, reaching into his bag and pulling out a different bag, this one black with a drawstring. Greg has no idea what it is, just that it's bulbous on both ends and is far, far too long to be a dildo, so he opens it.
"A toy is something you play with," Alex explains. "So I got you mallets."
"Hm," Greg says, spinning one of them with one hand. It's light, the head adding some weight. "It may have slipped by you that I'm not a drummer."
"But toy is a word with another connotation," Alex says, like a nerd.
Greg sizes him up. "Here," he beckons, and Alex goes, standing in front of him. "Turn around." He isn't giving Alex an option, taking Alex by the biceps and turning him.
Now that Alex can't see, Greg thwacks himself on the thigh as hard as he can. He bites his knuckle; he hates it, a deep thud that feels like it goes into his muscles.
Perfect. Alex lives for that shit.
Greg's rhythm is actually pretty okay, and he does a little drumming on Alex's shoulders. Alex makes a noise, a little pleased sound, and that's Greg's cue to stop.
"Yeah, that's not so bad," Greg says, putting the mallets in his lap and turning Alex back around. He stares Alex down. "You have something else, and you would just love it if I didn't ask." Alex looks caught, and Greg raises an eyebrow. "Show me or I'll go looking."
"Yes, sir," Alex says, and he reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a small box, such as might hold jewelry. He offers it to Greg, who snatches it up and opens it.
There is, well, a butt plug in the box, and somehow Greg isn't surprised that that would be the next step. It's all metal, of solid construction, and large enough to look satisfying without being so big as to seem like a bad idea. As an art object it's lovely, curving sleekly to a blunt tip, the other end an oval ring, all of it one piece. Greg weighs it in his hand; it's a hefty little thing, cold to the touch. Alex must have put down a significant amount on this, and Greg wishes he felt guilty about that.
He doesn't. It's fucking hot.
"Now why would you think about hiding this perfectly nice thing you bought me?" Greg says, bouncing the plug in his palm. "Cold feet?"
"Something like that," Alex says.
"Bet you wish I cared," Greg says wickedly.
Alex shrugs. "Not really."
"Clothes off," Greg says, so that he doesn't have to unpack that. "Now."
Alex strips efficiently, like always, and he leaves his clothes in the chair next to Greg's. He waits, less weirded out about being naked in the dining room than he was previously; then again, Greg has made him do naked housework before.
"Get the lube and get on the bed," Greg says, closing his hand around the plug. "Slick yourself up, because when I come in there, this is going straight up you, ready or not."
Alex scampers off, looking relieved, because that's how Alex is. Greg lets him go before standing up and stretching. He picks up the bag with the mallets, in no particular rush; he stops in the bathroom, because he really just has been sitting here drinking tea for an hour. Finally he goes into the bedroom, and he sees exactly what he expected and, honestly, wanted. Alex is laying there on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms. The lube is sitting on the nightstand, capped.
Greg approaches, running a hand over Alex's ass. "I wasn't kidding," Greg says. "Hold yourself open."
Alex does it, though he hates it, but he's definitely prepped himself. Greg, on a hunch, just places the plug at his entrance and pushes; the smooth metal slips right in, nice and easy, almost no resistance.
"That's a nice effect," Greg says, and Alex gasps when he rocks it in and out a few times.
"Thank you, sir," Alex says into the pillow.
"You can let go," Greg says. "And you can also stop thinking it's going to be easy for you."
"Yes, sir," Alex says, putting his arms back where they were. Alex doesn't like it easy anyway.
"Now, let's see how we get on with these," Greg says, pulling the mallets out. They look like they won't tear up, which is nice, and he thinks that they might not leave bruises, which is even better. Alex is the type to look at something mundane and make it as kinky as possible, but if you know what you're looking for, this particular selection is not hugely outré.
Greg doesn't know how to hold mallets, but that is so far from being the point. He just takes one in each hand and starts tapping Alex's back, trying it out. Alex is squirming, so he does it harder. These things are brilliant, actually, enough control to hit exactly where he wants and avoid anything inconvenient. Alex has gone from squirming to melting, moaning softly into the pillow.
"I think you bought yourself a toy," Greg says.
"No, sir," Alex says, sounding fuzzy. "I wouldn't be able to do anything with it. An instrument you can't play is no good."
"Cheeky," Greg says, thwapping him on the arm. He looks the situation over. "Turn so you're laying across the bed. Not like- Yes, like that." Alex resettles, looking up at Greg; his head is at the edge of the bed, and any idiot would know what's coming.
"Hold this, and you better not bite," Greg says, placing one of the mallets in Alex's mouth. One hand is enough to get his jeans open and pushed down far enough to get his cock out. He takes his mallet back. "Open wide," he says, and Alex does.
--
Those aren't the only times that Alex has to buy something, but they are broadly representative. It's better when it's something useful, and Greg doesn't know why. He is taking that power away from Alex, stealing from him, but it's so much more fun when Alex is forced to spend money to bring about his own downfall. Sexually.
The whole thing just keeps going on, which shocks Greg. He really doesn't know why Rachel is still letting him do this, though he figures Alex is still doing it because he's a little bit of a slut and maybe idolizes Greg in a way Greg doesn't always like. The thing is that Greg would rather chop his right arm off than be the one to stop it when he doesn't need to.
Thankfully, that's not really going to happen.
They've been talking recently about formalities, and Greg's ready to pull the trigger. He thinks Alex is too, but Alex is a moving target. Maybe it's easiest to catch him if Greg uses a trap he's already lain.
"You're going to buy something that makes you mine," Greg says to him.
"In what sense?" Alex asks carefully.
"Still afraid to do your own work?" Greg says, looking him up and down. "An ideal item would mark you, and it would not be a tattoo. But you are going to wear it, as much as I see fit."
"This is a lot," Alex says. Earlier, Greg would have jumped in to assure him he didn't have to, but he knows now that sometimes he just needs to let Alex have a minute to process what he already knows he's going to do. "I, um, should I be ready by next week?"
"Take as long as you want," Greg says; next week they have a set appointment to go out to dinner, so it's not a random pull.
"Right," Alex says, looking thoughtful and concerned.
And then they go out to dinner.
"They" includes Rachel, Alex, and Greg, along with Ed and his fiancée, and a friend of Ed's fiancée called Trevor, who is entertaining but possibly only invited to make Greg feel less like the fifth wheel.
Greg genuinely adores Ed, and so he absolutely has not told him about anything that's going on.
The table is rectangular, and Greg has Rachel to his left and Ed to his right. Alex is seated opposite Rachel, and Greg has no idea how everybody ended up seated in what is an actually correct order. He doesn't even know how he knows what the order to sit at a table is. Probably a movie.
Alex is explaining something, and he's gesturing with his left hand. That's when Greg notices it, and he can't look away.
Greg, an extraordinarily large person, can pull off an extraordinarily large watch. He doesn't look right wearing a normal watch, and something sleek and minimal looks like a tennis bracelet. Alex is shorter and thinner than him, tall but within the normal range of watch size.
The watch he's wearing is big for his wrist, though not really too big. What Greg notices right away is that it's quite similar to the one Greg most frequently wears, though he can tell even from here that it's a much more expensive one. It makes Greg's breath catch in his throat, makes him take a sip of his wine, leaving his face in the glass for longer than he might otherwise.
Greg is good at going through these things, and nobody notices that he's quietly having a moment. Thank god Ed is not looking at him head on, because he'd be the one to say something. He can keep these plates spinning while his brain is pinging in every direction.
Later, Ed has stepped away to go to the bathroom, and Rachel puts a hand on Greg's shoulder, pulling him down to speak in his ear.
"Can I send Alex home with you?" Rachel asks. "To be honest, the boys are away for the night and I would adore an empty house."
Greg laughs softly. "You never need a reason, but I'll certainly take you up on it."
"Perfect," Rachel says. "You deal with him, I'm going to deal with most of a bottle of wine and the longest, hottest bath possible."
"Now that sounds like a night worth having," Greg says.
"I think you'll get along fine," she says, and pecks him on the cheek before letting him go.
"What a brazen display," Ed says, sliding into his chair. "What will your husband think?"
"Mine or Greg's?" Rachel says playfully.
"I was pretty sure it was the same thing," Ed says, and Greg snorts.
Dinner winds down, and afterwards Greg catches Alex's attention. "You're coming home with me," he says quietly.
Alex doesn't look like he was in on this plan; his eyebrows go up, and he looks pleased. "Alright."
Ed is making noises about going out for a pint, and Greg extricates both Alex and Rachel from the discussion, sending Rachel home with a kiss on the forehead and packing Alex off to his flat, everybody headed to the precise level of alone they wanted to be.
And then Greg and Alex are just standing in the living room, and Greg can't bring himself to make any further small talk.
"Now, my question for you is," Greg says. "Have I already correctly guessed what you bought for me?"
"Almost certainly," Alex says. "I wasn't trying to hide it."
"So this is what you picked," Greg says, taking Alex's arm and lifting it, holding the watch up for his perusal.
"Yes, sir," Alex says.
"Interesting," Greg says. "Someone else would have picked a collar."
"I'll buy a collar if you want me to," Alex says quickly.
"That's not what I said," Greg says. "It was what I was thinking." He twists Alex's arm gently this way and that, looking at it. It is a really lovely timepiece. "Does it wind, or is it battery?"
"Solar," Alex says. "I didn't want it to ever wind down or lose power. That- it didn't seem right."
Greg snorts. "I'm sure one day you'll put it in a drawer or something-"
"Greg, I'm not going to," Alex says, sounding frustrated, and it gives Greg pause. "You have to stop that. I need you to understand that-" He sighs, annoyed. "You're not getting out of this that easily."
Greg arches an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Maybe some time in the future you'll meet somebody you feel, you know, should be your life partner," Alex says, a bit awkwardly. "I'm not prepared to give you up over a thing like that. They're just going to have to join in."
Greg doesn't know what to say. "What would Rachel think if she heard you say that?" is what he goes for, a dodge, a reality check.
"She already thinks you're a bit thick," Alex says, sounding uncharacteristically catty.
"She does not," Greg says, pursing his lips.
"She doesn't think you're an idiot," Alex says, "but your emotional intelligence-"
"That's not a real thing," Greg says, rolling his eyes.
"Exactly," Alex says dryly, and Greg doesn't have a response.
"Why on earth would this be a thing you wanted?" he says instead.
"Greg, I-" Alex is clearly frustrated and trying to force his way through it. "I- I love you." Greg is taken aback. "I don't love you the same way I love Rachel, but there's a lot of ways to love somebody."
"Why would you possibly do that?" Greg asks, and Alex makes a noise of disgust.
"That's not fair and you know it," Alex says.
"You've never wanted me to be fair before," Greg says. "Why start now?"
"Why wouldn't I love you?" Alex challenges. "You're deeply attractive, and kind, and funny, and until this conversation I thought you were loyal." Greg wants to protest, but right this second he has done nothing to deserve that adjective. "And you're willing to f-force me to do things I'd never do and don't want."
It feels like Alex just punched him in the throat. "Alex, I'm so sorry-"
"Why?" Alex says, frowning at him. "I love it. I love that you love it." Greg's reaction doesn't seem to be what he wants. "Greg, if it weren't for you and Rachel, I'd only be doing it missionary with the lights off."
"Bullshit," Greg says reflexively. "Your brain is uniquely, unstoppably kinky."
"And if it weren't for you, it would have stayed in my brain indefinitely," Alex says. "I like to be forced." He shrinks a little. "I thought you were okay with that."
Greg grabs Alex and pulls him into a hug, sometimes the only way he knows how to communicate. "Fuckin' hell, does it seem like I'm having a bad time?" he says, setting his chin on the top of Alex's head. "Nobody's ever let me go as far as you have. You just keep taking. It's- I have no idea what it is, but I like it."
"Then don't stop," Alex says. "Don't throw me away just because it's a little unusual."
"You'd rather I forced you to stay," Greg says.
"Try me," Alex says, perfectly steady, without the slightest bit of question or hesitation.
"It was so fucking hot to see you wearing my watch," Greg admits, "but it was also, I don't know. Something other than hot that felt really good?" He sighs. "I sound like an idiot."
"You really don't," Alex says, squeezing him before letting him go. "I wore it for you to see it. And I hope you like it, because I don't mind telling you, it cost a small fortune."
"Shit," Greg says. "I didn't get you into trouble with Rachel, did I?"
Alex snorts. "Who do you think found it? I walked in with an idea and suddenly it's 'Oh, he likes to wear that blue one so much, now you don't want to skimp on it.'" It surprises a laugh out of Greg. "I would really like it if you would stop thinking that this is something illicit that we're doing. Maybe we can't be obvious, but that doesn't mean I'm going to show you the door whenever it's convenient to."
"Look, it's just-" Greg says. "I've never done anything like this before, and-" He takes a breath. "I don't know if I need anybody else. I could stand to see you more, but it's nice to have my own life and have it intersect with someone else's like this."
"Then don't look for anybody else," Alex says. "Greg, I'm not lying to you and neither is Rachel. Nobody's trying to wind you up or put you in a position where you're going to get hurt. If this is what you want, then you don't have to hate it just because you feel like you should."
Greg sighs, a protracted exhalation that feels like it takes some of the pressure off. "I really just brought you over here so I could see you in nothing but my watch."
"That's what I'd assumed," Alex says. "I was hoping you might do that thing with the ropes and the headboard."
"Fuck me, that's a good idea," Greg says. "Off you go then, clothes off, leave the watch."
Within twenty minutes, Alex is tied to the headboard; his forearms are tied in one column, palms together, and the last of the tie is on the other side of his watch. It makes it stand out even more, framed by the rope. It may or may not be comfortable, and Greg just doesn't care.
Greg gets in behind him, slicking his cock before clicking the lube shut and just tossing it away. He pushes inside, wiping his hands on Alex's thighs before he starts moving.
"Jesus Christ," he says, biting at Alex's shoulder. "You look so fucking good like this."
"Please," Alex says.
"You'll get plenty," Greg says, setting a quick pace. "You better hope you're comfortable. I'm keeping you just like this so I can come back for more."
"Yes," Alex pants. "Take whatever you want."
Greg's hand slides up Alex's bound arm to his wrist. "I mostly just want you," he says, and it's as honest as he's managed to be.
Alex huffs a laugh. "Took you long enough."
"Cheeky," Greg says, slapping Alex's thigh with his free hand, and Alex is unrepentant.
It's so good, just to be like this; Alex feels so good next to him, hot and slicked with sweat. Alex takes and takes, and Greg is just going to keep on giving, it looks like. Every time he sees the watch, his mark on Alex, Alex's gift to him, he just wants to give more. Pretty soon he's pounding into Alex, but that's not everything he's got, not at all.
Greg finally pushes in and comes, arched over Alex's body, his hands gripping Alex's hips tightly. Alex is still taut as a bowstring when Greg pulls out.
"Oh look," Greg says, reaching into the nightstand. "It's your little friend."
"Shit," Alex says, through clenched teeth, as Greg pushes the plug into him.
"You know you like it," Greg says.
"I really do," Alex says. "That's the problem."
Greg laughs, cleaning up before laying down next to Alex, which is prime Alex-mocking territory. "You are amazing," is what he says instead, which is what he means and what he didn't want to say.
"Why do I feel like that means you're going to keep me here for longer?" Alex says.
Greg laughs in surprise, leaning up to kiss him. "Because you're a smart boy," he says. "Let's see how far that takes you."