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Greg thinks Alex might be a bit of a pricktease. Surely no one could be that oblivious about how he touches other men, how he interacts with his friends and with Greg in particular. Greg finds himself watching Alex, watching for any signs that he’s doing any of this on purpose, with intent, and what he comes to realise is that every single thing on the show is accomplished with clinical precision; you want to portray a BDSM relationship without pissing off the more conservative viewers, you do it exactly how Alex has. Outside of the show, Greg has no fucking clue what Alex thinks he is doing and he’s not sure Alex does either.
Thinking about Alex late at night while Greg’s in bed, because why wouldn’t Greg be doing that, for fuck’s sake, Greg remembers the start of their relationship, when Greg really couldn’t give a crap about Alex, other than with a self interested professional respect. Greg had watched him like a scientist studying a bug, growing inexplicably fonder and fonder, until Greg all of a sudden finds himself declining dates with attractive women and even offers of sex with no strings, in favour of thinking about his colleague, with one hand admittedly, but thinking all the same.
What is it about Alex that fascinates him so much is what Greg wonders. Greg has met plenty of people like Alex in television, Oxbridge graduates with useless degrees, flooding the television industry, seemingly because they can and they want to avoid getting a proper job for as long as possible. Alex is different though, and yet he’s also not different at all, and it’s this dichotomy that is driving Greg crazy. That and the fact that Greg has suddenly developed a sexual attraction out of nowhere to the lanky tubular sausage of a man. Greg’s mind wanders off while thinking about sausages and Alex fades from his consciousness for the time being.
They’re not fucking each other and that surprises a lot of people, not even nearly fucking, that’s the thing Greg has to keep remembering every time Alex touches him and looks at him like Greg might have hung the moon. He’s not faking either, Alex is essentially like that all the time, desperate for Greg’s undying attention, to the point where it goes to Greg’s head a bit. Alex also isn’t lying when he tells everyone who will listen that they don’t talk about the homoerotic stuff, don’t plan it at all, Greg is as surprised as everyone else when they kiss, or touch, or Alex sits in his lap or any of the other hundred insane things Alex will do to him on an almost daily basis while they’re in the studio and often when they’re out of it too.
It’s not like he minds, not really. He didn’t mind before he felt anything for Alex and he doesn’t mind now that he spends way more time than he’ll admit to thinking about him, when Greg is alone and lonely. What Greg has come to realise is that Alex is conventional, he loves his wife and his kids but that’s not all he is. Alex is sharp and witty and comfortable and clean and a million other things that Greg would like to be when he grows up. Aside from all that, Alex has a darker side and sometimes Greg will watch him make a joke at someone’s expense so cleverly that they don’t even realise he’s taking the piss. Occasionally Alex will see Greg notice and throw a secret smile at him, making Greg’s heart speed up unexpectedly.
When they are in America, they get really close to something more, close to making it sexual in a way that it has never been in the UK, Greg is on edge and waiting and certain that Alex is going to forget himself and just lean in a little too close, Greg is disappointed when nothing actually happens and admonishes himself for the entire plane journey home for being pathetic, and desperate, and needy for Alex in a way he hates. Not to mention the fact that Greg doesn’t think about Rachel once, not when Alex is parading in front of him in those slutty little shorts and he gets the urge to sink his teeth into Alex’s arse, not when Greg is repeatedly calling himself daddy, and not when he hears Alex utter the word cumslut with clipped precision and Greg has to cross his legs to disguise the sudden rush of blood to his cock. Rachel doesn’t cross Greg’s mind at all, save for the mention of her during the condom story, and he really didn’t think that he was this kind of person, that he is that kind of person, but he’s honest enough to admit that he would take Alex no matter the conditions, despite Rachel and Greg truly hates himself for that.
How they have got to this point is what Greg doesn’t understand. Greg has felt attraction for other men before and none of them were anything like Alex. Greg would have made fun of Alex in his younger days; a sexually repressed posh boy with a stick up his arse and an accent that television producers have wet dreams about. Yet here he is, pining like a kicked puppy for a man with a comfortable safe life; a lovely wife, smart kids, even a cute dog. Greg is self aware enough to realise that Alex probably isn’t going to ruin all of that for a fuck with an old man whose cock doesn’t even work half the time but unfortunately that fact doesn’t stop him thinking about it.
Greg mutters to himself, “what a fucking twat,” and he honestly doesn’t know if he’s talking about himself or Alex.
~~~~~
“Hello mate,” Alex says with a ridiculously fond grin, leaning forward and kissing Greg on the cheek, the wet imprint of his lips burning Greg’s skin even as the saliva starts to evaporate.
Greg wipes at his face and glares at Alex which doesn’t seem to have any effect on the man at all.
“What was that for?”
Alex bumps Greg’s shoulder as they walk side by side down one of the corridors at Avalon, people scurrying by with their heads down and harassed looks on their faces.
“What was what for?” Alex stops Greg with a hand to his chest, turning to face him and tilting his head to one side like a puppy on a greetings card.
“The kiss,” Greg hisses, tugging Alex into motion again when a runner sharply turns her head to look at them as she jogs past.
Alex hums and looks confused. “Am I not allowed to kiss you?”
“Why do you want to?” Greg can hear the frustration in his own voice and tries to smile to let Alex know that he’s not that upset.
“I thought that’s just what we do. If you don’t want me to then I won’t.”
Greg reaches for Alex, feeling off-balance by the conversation and groping for a way to ground himself. Alex looks down at where Greg’s fingers are wrapped around his forearm, looking back up into Greg’s face and smiling at him warily, waiting for Greg to say something to ease the atmosphere that’s suddenly developed between them, sharp and spiky.
“I don’t mind,” Greg murmurs eventually, feeling foolish for bringing it up and not wanting Alex to question the easy familiarity they’ve developed.
Patting him on the hand, Alex appears to relax, says, “good, I’m glad,” and walks purposefully off to what is presumably a meeting Greg doesn’t have to attend.
When Greg thinks about the interaction later, he gets unaccountably annoyed. The little dickhead makes him basically beg for affection and gets to play the innocent, ‘I just kiss all my friends’ card, when in actuality what Alex is doing is weird and everyone knows it. Greg feels frustrated and irritated and illogically horny, wrong-footed by Alex, who now that Greg is really thinking about it, clearly manipulated him and has manipulated him a lot in their relationship. Greg gets a sudden visceral image of Alex calling him a good boy and patting him on the head condescendingly, looking down at himself to find he has the beginnings of an erection.
“Shit.”
Now that he’s really looking for it, Greg sees that a lot of the interactions he has with Alex are contrived. Alex looks innocent and sweet and kind but he still manages to get whatever he wants every time, leaving Greg unsettled and weirdly aroused. He doesn’t like what it says about him more than anything, that something in his psyche is enjoying Alex being in charge, enjoying Alex touching him and making him feel all these emotions. Perhaps Alex has been doing this the entire time, playing Greg like a puppet, pulling his strings and making him react however Alex wants him to for his own amusement.
Alex always says that Greg is perfect for the role of the Taskmaster because of his natural authority and personality but Alex has always been in the background doing all the work, making things happen, definitively in charge, humiliating himself because it makes excellent television, not because he likes it. He has told more than one interviewer that he likes to serve, to be of use, but what is increasingly clear is that he likes people doing what he wants without them knowing that it’s what he wants. Greg knows that Alex is clever but he’s beginning to realise exactly how clever he is. What’s worse, or better depending on your point of view, is that Greg has to acknowledge that Alex in charge is really turning him on. That it isn’t the fact that Alex is whatever the person he’s interacting with wants him to be at the time that’s confusing Greg, it’s that Greg both likes and hates how that manipulation makes him feel. Is Alex an enigma, or is he just being whatever the person he’s talking to at the time wants him to be.
~~~~~
“How have you made me like the daddy thing?” Greg blurts when they’re in the pub later, several drinks deep and just lubricated enough to throw conversational caution to the wind.
Greg sees the fleeting twitch of Alex’s face before he puts on the blank mask of sincerity.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Alex says cautiously, watching Greg’s face carefully the whole time.
“You know exactly what I mean. I’ve gone from telling you I hate it, to calling you baby boy and myself daddy on several occasions. I know you’ve engineered that but what I’m asking you is why.”
Alex looks stunned, clears his throat, and relaxes his shoulders. “You’ve noticed that then?”
“Yes, I’ve noticed, I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” Alex says softly, a slight smile on his face. “I like it, honestly, and I wanted to hear you say it.” Alex pauses, a slight crack in his voice. “I wanted to hear you say it to me. I wanted to see if I would like it more, or less, than when Rachel does it.”
Greg flinches at the mention of Rachel’s name, at the casual way that Alex hints at what they do in their private life.
“And…” Greg feels like he’s pulling teeth, trying to get Alex to have a sincere conversation about anything.
“And I like it a lot more when you do it.”
Greg doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know what to do with his face or his hands, so he takes a massive gulp of his drink and tries to look anywhere but in to Alex’s eyes. He fails, and it feels like someone is pulling his head around until he can’t not look. Alex has a light glowing in one of his pupils, flickering softly. It’s the reflection of the fire in the pub they’re in and it lights Alex up from the inside, it’s mesmerising and Greg can’t look away.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Greg eventually manages, feeling his mouth growing dry and his stomach flip-flop wildly.
“I’ll get us another drink,” Alex responds, standing up and walking over to the bar without asking Greg what he wants.
Somehow the atmosphere between the two of them has changed and Greg isn’t entirely sure why. It takes him a while to notice that it’s because Alex isn’t acting, he isn’t avoiding direct questions, making up humorous lies and stories to distract. Greg has no idea how to interact with this Alex, who is like a stranger that Greg has never met before.
Alex puts the drinks down on the table and smiles at Greg, patting his hand and surreptitiously wiping it on his jeans when he realises how clammy Greg is. Greg feels unmoored, ever-so-slightly tipsy but in a way that’s making him anxious, not merry.
“You look like you’re not okay,” Alex observes, nudging his knee against Greg’s under the table.
“I’m just thinking.”
Alex hums like he doesn’t quite believe Greg’s answer, taking a sip of his own drink warily and watching Greg the whole time.
~~~~~
It’s two weeks later when Greg has a sudden thought.
“That’s why Rachel’s in your phone as ‘mum,’ it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s your children’s mother.”
Alex blushes immediately, the redness spreading down his chest until Greg can no longer see it under the cheap off-white polyester shirt he’s wearing under his assistant’s suit.
“You call your wife mum,” Greg repeats, in case Alex has somehow failed to grasp Greg’s accusation.
“Sometimes.”
“She doesn’t call you daddy?”
Alex makes a face that looks like someone is flicking through a television remote full of emotions, each expression lasting nanoseconds and then changing. Finally he clearly settles on horrified.
“No, I don’t think I’d like that.”
Greg chuckles, partly at the look on Alex’s face and partly from the thought of Rachel calling Alex daddy. Now he’s thinking of it, he absolutely can’t imagine how that would go. Greg knows Alex has a dominant side, has seen it more than once, but he just can’t picture Alex being dominant with Rachel. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend’s sex life at all but now he’s started, he can’t seem to get the image of Alex having sex out of his head, with Rachel, with him, with anyone.
“But you like it when I call you baby boy,” Greg clarifies, trying to form a solid picture in his head. The image of Alex in a sexual capacity shimmers and changes like smoke being blown on the wind.
“Yes, I do like it. I like it a lot. It makes me feel… well, it makes me feel extremely aroused quite frankly.”
“Aroused,” Greg teases. “Posh twat.”
There’s a knock on the door and a runner tells them they have five minutes through the plywood.
“It’s going to be a really good episode today,” Greg promises in a low sure tone, stepping into Alex’s personal space and audibly inhaling the smell of him; the makeup and deodorant and the scent of his skin.
Alex says nothing in response but fumbles with the door handle as he exits the room in a hurry, shuffling down the corridor and out of sight.
Greg takes an almost sadistic delight in teasing Alex, calling him pet names and touching him in a manner so overt, the gallery has to tell him to cut it out on more than one occasion.
Leaning over to Alex when they’re sat on the thrones, Greg whispers, “I know you told me that on purpose to get precisely this response but it suits me to play along, don’t think for a second that I don’t realise what you’re doing.”
The only response from Alex is a shivery inhale and a twitch of a smirk before they start the next section of the show. Greg feels tingly all over, excited in more ways than one. He feels like he’s toying with Alex and he’s being toyed with in turn, he feels the push and pull of attraction and he knows for certain that if Alex lets Greg get anywhere near him, that Greg’s cock would most definitely work like it should.
When the episode is finished, Alex tosses a look over his shoulder at Greg, heading to his dressing room with quick little steps, just shy of jogging. Greg follows lazily, knowing that he’s going to do exactly what Alex wants but taking his own sweet time over it. Standing outside the room, Greg doesn’t knock which feels wrong but he has no time to explore that as he twists the handle and slips into Alex’s space.
Alex is wearing the shirt he filmed the episode in and his underwear but his trousers are slung over the arm of the sofa, bright socks a beacon in the dim room. Alex acts like Greg isn’t in the room but he could hardly have failed to notice his entrance. He pulls his socks off, wobbling slightly and using the back of the chair to steady himself. Then with a brief glance at Greg, Alex slides his underwear down his legs and walks over to the corner of the room, bending down to his bag and rummaging around. Greg walks silently up behind him, standing so close that Alex has to be able to feel the heat of him.
“Please,” Alex begs, not turning around but putting his hands against the wall and bracing himself, like he’s about to be searched by the police.
Taking another step closer, Greg slides his fingers on to Alex’s hips, underneath the ridiculous shirt, his fingertips pressing into the slight pudge around his waist. Greg presses closer, knowing that Alex can feel the hot ridge of his erection pushed against the crack of Alex’s arse, the material of Greg’s trousers deadening the heat but not hiding the shape of him. Alex makes a huffing little sound that ends with a soft moan, pushing himself backwards wantonly but not moving his hands from the wall. Greg nuzzles the skin of Alex’s throat with his nose, just underneath his ear, following up with hot open-mouthed kisses that make Alex push back harder.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Greg whispers into Alex’s ear.
Alex makes a frustrated sound that causes Greg to smile and slide his hand around to the front of Alex’s body, trailing fingertips over his erection in a way he knows is never going to be enough.
“Please…” Alex pleads, his forearm flexing as though he’s going to remove his hand from the wall.
Greg covers Alex’s fingers with his own and holds him there, rocking his cock against Alex’s body and listening to him whine.
“You’re not going to move.”
Shaking his head vigorously, Alex tilts to give Greg better access to his throat, sighing as Greg sucks a red mark where his shoulder meets his neck.
“Good boy,” Greg croons into Alex’s ear, making him shudder against Greg’s body in a way that really shouldn’t be as arousing as Greg finds it.
Greg snakes his hand back down to Alex’s cock, frustrated by the lack of lube but not wanting to move from exactly where he is. Greg puts his lips right up against Alex’s ear and growls, “spit.”
Whispering ‘fuck’ under his breath, Alex spits into Greg’s hand and pushes his face against the side of Greg’s jaw as Greg wraps slippery fingers around his length and strokes, sinuous and hypnotic.
Greg uses his other hand to undo his trousers and pull himself out, the zip pressing against the base in a manner that’s uncomfortable, but Greg doesn’t have the brain power to do anything about it, pushing his bare cock between Alex’s cheeks and sliding against him as though Greg is penetrating him. Greg knows he can’t come like this but Alex is pushing into his hand, his hips working against him and Greg couldn’t care less about his own orgasm because the feeling of Alex against him is incredible. Greg spits into his hand to increase the lubrication and wraps his fingers back around Alex, pressing his thumb under the leaking head and feeling his own cock ghost across Alex’s hole.
“I’m going to come over your arse, leave you dripping in it,” Greg hisses against Alex’s wet skin, receiving a shiver in return.
Contrary to Greg’s instructions about leaving his hands where they are, Alex wraps his fingers around Greg’s, on top of his cock, and speeds up the pace, keening in the back of his throat as Greg nibbles at his earlobe. Desperate, Greg tugs at himself, knuckles brushing against the soft skin of Alex’s arse as he strokes himself, the rhythm uneven and stuttering as he gets closer to the edge.
“Fuck, oh fuck Greg,” Alex swears, tensing up and pulsing over their joined hands.
“Spread yourself,” Greg orders, right on the verge of orgasm and not thinking about anything past the next few seconds.
Alex makes a noise that’s part whine and part moan, moving away from the wall and widening his stance. Reaching back, his face pressed against the hard surface, Alex puts his hands on his cheeks and spreads himself open lewdly.
“Oh Jesus.”
With his hand still moving on his cock, Greg has a couple of seconds to look at the picture in front of him before he comes, hard. The first pulse hits Alex’s tailbone, sliding down over his hole as the next two hit lower, dripping off the back of Alex’s balls obscenely, the wetness glistening in the low light. The final spurt slides over his own fingers, making him feel sticky.
While Greg is gathering himself together, Alex reaches for some wet wipes and cleans himself up, offering one silently to Greg with a calm expression on his face, before stripping off his shirt and putting on a jumper with a teddy bear on the front that Greg knows cost a lot of money. The juxtaposition between what they’ve just done and the fucking bear looking at him, makes Greg’s head spin in a way it usually only would after several alcoholic drinks.
Greg doesn’t want to ask about Rachel, doesn’t want to think about what a prick he’s just been but the guilt is pressing down on him. Perhaps Alex has permission, Greg clearly has no idea what goes on in Alex’s marriage but the cowardly part of him doesn’t want to ask just in case the answer is not what he wants to hear.
“That was impressively filthy,” Alex says finally, with a twinkle in his eye that makes Greg’s stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies.
Barking out a surprised laugh, Greg straightens his suit and nods in agreement, letting Alex stand on tiptoes and kiss him on the lips. Considering everything they’ve just done, it feels unexpectedly intimate and Greg can’t stop himself from fisting his hands in the back of Alex’s jumper and hauling him closer. They kiss until Greg’s face starts to burn, the sound of a cleaner hoovering somewhere outside piercing the bubble between them as they pull apart.
“I better go get changed,” Greg mutters, releasing Alex’s jumper and smoothing it down.
Outside of the room, Greg feels a curious combination of dread and exultation, his stomach not quite back to its normal state as he walks the familiar route to his dressing room.
“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” Andy says, looking Greg up and down but saying nothing about the fact that he’s not even changed, nor the fact that he’s coming from the direction of Alex’s dressing room.
“I just got caught up in something,” Greg replies, as vaguely as possible, trying to control his expression and edging around Andy to get to the door.
Andy doesn’t respond verbally, just nods and makes his way down the corridor.
Greg sits on the world’s most uncomfortable sofa and puts his head in his hands, trying not to think about what he’s just done and yet seeing a kaleidoscope of filthy images crashing through his brain. Eventually after what feels like hours, Greg gets changed and leaves the building, startled by Alex waiting for him at his car, bag slung over his shoulder casually.
“You took so long to get changed, I thought you might have fallen over and couldn’t get back up,” Alex teases, tongue between his teeth, big blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I’m not that old,” Greg retorts, indignant at both the comment and the fact that he knows Alex is just teasing and that he’s still giving him exactly the reaction he wants.
Alex just snorts, reaching for the handle of the passenger side door when Greg unlocks the car with a beep.
“I didn’t know you were coming home with me,” Greg says, as nonchalantly as he can, folding himself into the driver’s seat and putting on his seatbelt.
“You thought we were just going to have a quickie in the dressing room and go our separate ways?”
“Kind of,” Greg says honestly, peeling out of the car park and looking straight at the road ahead.
“Not getting rid of me that easily,” Alex responds, squeezing Greg’s thigh, scandalously high up his leg, fingertips digging into the muscle.
“What are we doing?” Greg asks after they’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes.
Alex is looking out of the side window, the streetlights casting shadows across his face.
“We’re doing what I want.”
Greg blows out a big breath and thinks about everything that statement entails, everything Alex isn’t saying as well as what he is.
“Okay then, yes.”
With a dirty chuckle that makes the hair on the back of Greg’s neck stand on end, Alex replies, “good boy.”