Like now—he's sitting over on the couch with his laptop, chuckling to himself.
I never could resist him when he's laughing. It makes him look surprisingly
cute. Cute is not a description that I'd normally associate with Alex, but
there's something about the way unfettered laughter makes the lingering shadows
fade from his eyes that makes him look incredibly young and open. Add to that
the spiky hair and bare feet and you've got an image worth framing because it's
so completely different from his usual manner.
No else gets to see this side of him, not really. Oh, they may catch glimpses of
it in lighthearted moments but never the full effect. Only I get to see it and
that's just the way I like it.
Now I want to know what my favourite ex-assassin is laughing about, because he's
not telling and I don't think that's very fair.
Bare feet barely make a sound on wood floors if you're careful and he's shown me
enough that, while I have no hope of matching his level of silent grace, I could
probably sneak up on a lesser person without a problem. I'm just grateful that
he's distracted so I can surprise him.
"I thought you were reading?"
Damn, foiled again.
"I'm bored." Well, I am. My book held absolutely no appeal for me once I heard
those first muffled chuckles coming from the couch. Slumping down next to him, I
look over his shoulder at the computer screen. "What's so funny?"
"This page." Fount of information there, Alex. Thank you so much. He's playing
with me, the bastard.
"What's so special about it?"
"It's a surrealist compliment generator," he offers, as he refeshes the page and
goes off into another fit of giggles.
Okay, giggling Alex. This is new. Let's see what the fuss is about. Fuck! I
forgot how small he has the text set and I left my glasses over with my book.
"Um, Alex. Want to up the text size for me? Not all of us have perfect vision
like you." I just know I'm asking for it but I want to know what he's finding so
entertaining.
"Want me to read it for you, Gramps?"
"Fuck off, Alex." Bastard. I will get you for that crack, you little shit.
To sulk or not to sulk, that is the question. It's not that hard a decision—sulking wins. So I take myself back to my book. Besides, it normally gets him
doing what I want quicker. I'm not adverse to using whatever weapons I have
against him and he never has been able to resist the judicious use of a pouting
lower lip. Let's see how long this takes.
Slipping my glasses back on, I shoot him dark stare over the top of the rims
before pointedly opening my book again. I really don't want to go back to
reading it, I'd much rather be over on the couch. Which I will be, if he'll only
be predictable in his reaction.
"C'mon, don't be like that."
Bingo. Right on the money.
"I was just kidding."
Let's eke out the tension just a little longer.
"Geez, Fox."
I try and hide my smile behind the book as I detect the rising exasperation in
his voice but I know he's seen it when a gusty sigh is accompanied by a
muttered, "You're such a prick."
He's right, you know. I am a prick. I don't know why I feel the need to play
these little games with him, though I'm sure I could work it out if I ever
bothered to think about it. What I do know is that I play my games and he plays
his. I accept that, he accepts that and it makes our life interesting.
In mute apology for the subterfuge, I take myself back over to the couch. As I
sit down he sends me a mock glare which collapses with a startled yelp when I
nip at his neck.. "You know I'll remember this. Just wait until you come home
from an eye exam with a long face."
"I wouldn't expect anything less. That's why I'm getting my shots in now."
Smartass. But he's my smartass. I send a ruffling hand through his hair as I
turn to look at the screen. Ah, gotta love how much easier those little pieces
of curved glass make it to read. As the page comes into focus, I can't help
myself and almost fall into Alex's lap as I start laughing.
I mean it was obvious that this generator thing was funny, but I wasn't
expecting to see 'Madam! How your enormous foreskin shades me from the sun!' The
look on Alex's face is sweet. He looks happy. I think he must like seeing me
laugh as much as I like to see him do it. "You have a warped sense of humour,
Alex."
"Excuse me? Looks who's talking. Mr 'I almost fell off the couch laughing'."
How very true. I guess that makes us both warped. Not a bad situation to be in,
all things considering. Actually, this almost falling into his lap gives me an
idea. Shifting around on the couch, I scrunch down so I can use his thigh as a
pillow. Hmmm, nice. Not that I can really see the screen from here, but these
are the sacrifices we make, just like having my legs half hanging over the arm
of the couch. It's a dirty job, but I'm more than willing to do it.
He's looking at me with that little smile that quirks his lips. It always makes
me think that he's just about to shake his head in fond exasperation over my
behaviour. Either that or roll his eyes. But this time, all he does is brush his
fingers across my hair and continue to smile at me. It's a nice sensation.
My insistent move for closeness has unbalanced his own arrangement with the
laptop, but he allows it and shifts to accommodate the change. I wait until he's
positioned the computer and the coffee table to his satisfaction, before
resettling myself and shooting a grin of my own up at him. I can't help but say,
"Play it again, Alex."
I've never admitted to having a good sense of humour, like everything else about
me it's idiosyncratic. And this time he does roll his eyes in combination with
that fond little smile. The slight movement of the body underneath my head and
the faint click indicate that he's refreshed the page, so I raise my head to
have a look. This really is an awkward position for trying to do this. Oh well.
Sacrifices and all that.
Okay, that one is just bizarre. I think Alex thinks the same because the page is
reloading again. Oh my God. This is just too funny. "That's you, Alex."
"What?"
"Looked in the mirror lately? Those eyelashes are lethal."
There go the eyes again. He really hates it when I say things like that. It has
something to do with what's happened to him in the past. I know he hasn't told
me all of it, but I'm sure he will one day and I can wait until then. Besides,
we're trying to move on from the past so I won't push. One of these days he'll
get used to them, especially if I do it often enough.
He tries to shrug off whatever remembrance it is that I've inadvertently called
up and looks away from me, from the computer screen. I reach up and brush his
cheek in silent apology. I know it's accepted when he looks back down at me and
leans into my light touch.
"It's okay, Fox. Just bad memories."
No matter how hard we try, we will always be haunted by the past. We can accept
our actions, our decisions, but we'll always live with the regret and the guilt
for the mistakes that we made. Alex takes it harder than I do though, granted,
he does have the lion's share of regret. But I'm no lightweight in that regard
either. Time does heal, but it takes acceptance to affect the cure. "Hey."
"What?"
"Feed me some more compliments, Alex." It's a pitiful attempt to break him out
of his dark thoughts, but I can see the thanks in his eyes when he offers me a
quick smile before turning his attention back to the computer once more.
I don't even bother to look at the screen, instead I focus my attention on him.
His chuckles are a little half-hearted at first, but after a few reloads the
tension begins to drain out of him and he lets the bizarre enjoyment of the
generator suck him in again.
"Hey, here's one for you."
"What? Oh." Busted. Oh well, he knows I worry sometimes and still he lets me get
away with it. One of those little compromises that we've made in our
relationship. A compliment for me? I'm curious now. I can't help but smile when
I see what's come up on the page. "I think that one's for both of us. I'm not
the only depraved one in this relationship."
His grin wipes away those last lingering shadows as he tries to affect that
disbelieving innocent look of his, the one that puts the little crease between
his eyebrows. Too bad the flash of teeth ruins the effect. "Don't try and play
the innocent, Alex. It doesn't suit you. Besides, I like you the way you are.
Evil twin Skippy and all."
It's a strange thing, well meant compliments will send him sinking into bad
memories but the Skippy remark will always make him laugh. We both have our
quirks and sensitivities. I'm just glad that I know him well enough to be able
to gauge his moods. That was what used to get us into trouble in the past, my
lack of knowledge. But, past is past and I have a laughing Alex under me, so to
speak, so why wallow in something that can't be changed?
Rolling onto my back, I wriggle around to find a better position on the couch.
Oh yeah, that's nice. The angle of thigh and hip makes the perfect pillow. Just
the right amount of padding. He's good for that. More muscle than me but it lies
in all the right places.
"Comfy?"
His grin conveys his amusement with my squirming and I can't help but reply in
kind. "Very. Thanks for asking."
"You know you can't see the screen from there, right?"
"I know, but I'm happy here." Who the hell wouldn't be? All I need is a nice,
warm Alex to lean on and all is right in my world. "Besides, you'll read any of
the good ones to me, won't you, Alex?"
I almost laugh at the look that crosses his face as I use a little trick I
learned a while ago from a certain, beloved, rat bastard. I don't have the
eyelashes for it like he does, but it's obviously still effective, as he shakes
his head in resignation and turns back to the screen.
Plus, any time I can get him to talk is fine with me. I love that voice of his.
It's aural porn. Phone sex without having to dial. Hands free, even. Hmmm hmmm
hmmm.
"Fox?"
"What?" Oh shit. Did I just do that aloud?
"What's with the humming?"
"I'm comfortable. Call it a sigh of contentment."
He is so not believing me. I really should know by now that there's no point in
trying to lie to the sneaky bastard. He always ferrets them out in the end. But
I keep on trying, 'cause you never know, one day I might actually be able to get
one over on him.
I don't know what's going on in his head, but I think he's going to let me get
away with that blatant lie. Maybe it's because there's a kind of quiet
contentment here at the moment. No stress, no worries, just a comfortably
relaxed feeling spiced with a bit of fun. It's not often that we get to have
afternoons like this, so it's best to savour them when we do. I'm more than
willing to take his lead on this.
Besides, I managed to get the most comfy seat in the place, though his body heat
is kind of distracting. Not in a bad way, it's just starting to make me feel a
bit drowsy is all. I could very easily go to sleep right here if it wasn't for
the occasional chuckle and movement of his body.
The warmth of him is addictive and I give into the temptation to rub my head
against his thigh in a small gesture of pleasure. The smile that touches his
eyes when he looks down at me is all the reward I need for that little display
and I almost hum happily when he pauses in his search for new compliments to
brush the hair off my forehead.
"You okay?"
"Just peachy." Of course I am, I have Alex as a pillow and a couch to lie on,
nothing could make me happier. Alex's laugh breaks into my little internal
reverie.
"You'll love this one. 'You are as dazzling as a pregnant cow attired in
electrical sockets.'"
Okay, so maybe I was wrong. Surrealist compliments in a husky, phone sex voice
does have its merits. Not only is it pretty damn funny, it's also weirdly
erotic. Really wasn't expecting that. You know, I'd probably make an interesting
psychological study if anyone could force me to participate. The strangest
things act as triggers for me, the biggest one being Alex himself. Yet it's the
combination of little things that really kick that welling warmth to life. His
fingers in my chest hair, the sight of him in nothing but a pair of shorts—there's something so incredibly sexy about his bare legs, the way he tucks in
his shirt and ...
"'You move with the eloquence of a fiery wall of disintegrating fuselage.'"
Oh yeah. You can definitely add surrealist compliments to the list. It makes the
blood pool and the heat rise, bringing everything to that point of tingling
awareness where a breath is as good as a kiss and a ...
"'Your skin emanates such a porcelain sheen that I am tempted to stamp WC across
your bosom and under your armpits.'"
...surrealist compliment is as good as a touch.
I can feel the blood starting to make it's presence known as it thrums out to my
extremities. My senses are rising to the temptation just like another part of my
anatomy. As a result, I can't resist the need to move, to try and adjust my
position so that the pressure of my jeans is welcomed instead of being
constrictive. Here's hoping it doesn't disturb him from his reading, because I
really don't want him to stop. Give me more, Alex!
"'Teacups smash, flounders ignite spontaneously in your presence.'"
Oh God. All I want to do is get up and rub myself all over him, but that would
mean that the words would stop and that's not an option I want to consider.
While my mind demands the continued aural stimulation, my body demands something
more tactile and twitches in a small convulsive movement towards it's goal.
Fuck. I'm so busted. I can feel the tips of my ears starting to heat up as he
sends me a puzzled glance, which soon morphs into something completely different
at the recognition of the autonomic responses that arousal has generated—the
increased breathing, the slight flush, the erection that is trying to fight it's
way free.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"What?" I don't know why he's surprised. I'm a self confessed pervert, he should
know by now that he's my biggest fetish.
"That's not easily hidden, you know."
A pointed look at my crotch accompanies that observation. You know, he really
does say the nicest things. I can't just let that go without a reward. He
deserves it and so do I.
Flipping over, I crawl up to his lips for a long kiss. One that I can take my
time with, so as to savour the combined sensations of heat, moistness and his
own unique flavour as I explore his mouth. Oh yeah, I would live in his mouth if
I could and still die a happy man. He's looking a little hazy eyed himself when
I finally let him catch a breath and I can't help the smirk that starts to form
as I look down at him.
"You're warped."
"Yes." I'm thinking we're going to be here for a while, at least I hope we are,
so I may as well make myself comfortable and his thighs make the perfect seat.
"Weird."
"Hmm hmm." What can I say? He's telling the god's honest truth here. God, he
smells good.
"Bent."
"Oh, absolutely." I think he's starting to enjoy this, he's getting that
devilish little glint in his eyes. I wonder what's going on in that twisted mind
of his.
"You have no socially redeeming value."
"Oh yeah, baby, talk dirty to me." It's electric. It's as if his voice is
connected directly to my cock. I can't help the reflexive arch as I grind my
hips into his lap to meet the corresponding hardness of his own.
"You're mad. Do that again."
"Only if you talk to me."
"C'mon, Fox, this is weird, even for you."
"Please? I'll make it good."
"You're completely unbalanced."
"Alex!"
"...but 'your face is like an imperfectly shaved tennis ball.'"
"Oh, God. More." He doesn't understand it, he probably really does think it's
strange, but he'll indulge me just so I can get my rocks off. I love him, I
really do.
"If we're going to do this, we sure as hell aren't going to do this here.
C'mon."
There've been a couple of men, but mostly women, what little sexual interaction
I had in my life, before him. So, it's at odd moments like this that I realise
that his strength matches my own. It's an odd little recognition to have as
you're being lifted off your lover's lap and hustled into the bedroom with all
haste, but it's how my brain works, I guess. It does put a whole new spin on
sex, though. The give and take is completely different now than it ever was
before and it just adds to the enjoyment of it.
"Off."
Eloquent guy, my Alex, but I understand his shorthand and set about divesting
myself of my clothing with all due haste. Clothes gone, barriers dropped, we
tumble into bed with all the grace of a pair of gangly pups, but it gets the job
done. Skin on skin, hands on flesh and the heat starts to build once more.
We wrestle for control, but it's more a poorly hidden excuse to caress and
stroke whatever we can reach than a serious play for dominance. I don't even
particularly care when Alex comes out on top, just as long as he keeps up with
what he's doing.
There's an intensity about him during sex that's only matched by the
concentration he shows when he's out doing something the law says he shouldn't.
Which would explain why I'm lying supine on the bed, arms restrained by fleshy
manacles above my head and Alex perched comfortably on my stomach. The light in
his eyes warns me that things are bound to get only more interesting from here
on in.
"So ..." He drawls the word out in that sexy way he has, "surreal compliments,
huh?"
There's nothing I can say to that, he's seen the evidence of it. Hell, he can
probably feel the evidence of it with the way my cock jumped at the mention of
them. All I can do is try and look innocent, though I know that it's a wasted
effort.
"You're a completely warped fuck, Fox."
He's shaking his head at me again, but I can tell that it's not in resignation
this time. No, this time he's getting ready to play. Must be my lucky day.
"So, if I say 'Your eyebrows are as verdantly forrested as the seeded woodworms
of my most sombre dreams' you'll ..."
I can't help the gasp that escapes as I twist against his hold. He's dropped his
voice into that husky register and it only makes the impact that much stronger.
Jesus Christ, he's good.
"That's what I thought."
That grin of his is completely wicked as he looks down at me.
"So, Fox. I'm thinking that I could probably get you off with simply my voice,
given the demonstration you've just given. What do you think?"
Oh God, he's going to play this game until I'm nothing more than a bag of
quivering boneless flesh. What crap do I have in my past karmic life that I
deserve to have this joy now? There's not a lot I can say to deny the fact that
he could easily make good on his proposition, especially considering all parts
of me are jumping at the idea. "Ummm ..."
"'I love your eyes, but only with ketchup.'"
"Oh God." I've died. I must have. I've died and gone to heaven and been given
every dream I've ever wanted all wrapped up in a one damn sexy, and infinitely
accommodating, package.
"You're such a slut."
Oh yeah. A slut, a whore, a jade, a trollop, you name it, that's me. For this I
would sell my soul, not just my body, if only to keep the sensations rolling
through me. I know he's going to turn me into a whimpering lump of flesh by the
time he's finished and I can hardly wait. If that makes me a slut, I revel in my
slutdom. Give me more.
God, I want it. I want the words, I want the man, I just want everything and
anything I can get. It's awkward, but I manage to capture his mouth with my own.
Such a wicked, talented mouth. I know he's getting off on the power of this
himself, it's pretty damn obvious from his own bodily reaction. I'm getting off
on him doing it, so I guess that makes us even.
Actually, I love that he can do this to me, do something so simple and yet so
profound. It makes me want to devour him, but I all I can do is take what I can
for as long as he will play along with me. I don't trust many people, but when I
do, it's whole-heartedly with very little reserve. He's the only one I've
trusted with this much of myself and I know that he'd rather die than ever
betray me again. There's power in that. Power and joy.
When he breaks away his lips have turned that deep red colour that makes them
all the more tempting. Damn him for breaking off the kiss just when it was
getting good. Who cares about breathing? But before I can voice my complaint, he
hits me with another one of those firecrackers. The fact that it's almost gasped
out and his voice squeaks at the end only adds to the overall effect.
"'Your delightful banana reminds me of a cosmonaut in high heels.'"
Laughter and sex. Sex and laughter. What a fucking aphrodisiac. I could implode
here and die a happy, though unfortunately unfulfilled man. I've never had a
lover so willing to play as Alex is. For that I am eternally grateful and it's
something that I will always cherish because he trusts me enough to let that out
here in our bed.
It's like we're in some kind of weird symbiotic relationship. Whatever I feel
bleeds over into him and what he feels to me. I get off on his laughter and it
only sparks his own excitement higher. I'm so close that one more hit is bound
to send me over the edge and Alex looks like he wouldn't be that far behind me.
He's such a selfish altruist. What he does for me, he does for himself.
I want a kiss before we go. A kiss before dying. Petite morte is waiting and I
know he feels the call himself. It's humming between us like summer lightning,
electric and primal, just waiting for the chance to strike. He seems to read my
need, God I love that, and swoops down for one last plundering play of lips and
tongue. Suction and wet, hot stroking that draws us closer before we finally
break apart for desperate breaths.
As I look up at him, I can see that the heat in his eyes has kicked up ten fold.
He's got some serious wattage happening there and I feel like I'm scorching
under the intensity of it. I can see everything he's feeling in those orbs, all
the emotion that rarely gets put into words flares bright as he locks his gaze
with mine and whispers, "'In your presence even my shadow acquires the sensation
of touch.'"
Bye, bye reality. Hello, whiteout. I feel as if I've been hit by a truck, my
orgasm hits me so hard.
It hurts so good.
It spikes when I realise, altered state and all, that Alex's followed me over.
He's getting off on my getting off. Gotta love that.
I can feel the shudders that still wrack his body as I try to catch my breath
through the remaining tremors of my own. Somehow he manages to roll off to the
side just as his weight starts to become a bit of an impediment to my breathing.
Perfect timing, my Alex has. Something I value and am thankful for every day,
believe me.
God, I feel good. It's like every nerve within my body is tingling, like I've
been completely re-energised, yet there is that underlying satisfaction that
makes me want to just lie here and savour the feeling of wellbeing that the
afterglow has infused me with. Yet, we hardly even raised a sweat.
It's always been like that between us though. Striking sparks off each other
even when we weren't sleeping together. Fire, that's what it is. Unadulterated
passion, whether it's lust, love, rage or hatred, it's grounded in that same
passionate obsession that we have for each other. The only choice we've ever had
was how it was going to end—life or death. I'm glad we chose life.
"I can't believe you're turned on by surrealist compliments."
His voice is muffled a little by the bed as he turns his head to look at me,
breaking me out of my post-coital morbid thoughts. I can't help the satisfied
smirk that I know is spreading across my face as I prop myself up with a pillow
against the headboard and look over at him. He's completely wrecked, and it's a
great look on him. Skin flushed, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded, mouth moist and
swollen from our kisses. He looks debauched. I'm sure I probably look the same
way.
"I'm unique." What can I say? It's true, and after all we've been through over
the years I would've thought that he'd have gotten a grasp on that.
"You can say that again."
"I'm unique." Can't help it, he was asking for it.
"Shut up, Fox."
"No." He's way too much fun to tease, especially when he looks so tousled and
sated.
"Don't make me try and come over there and make you."
"Alex, you have about as much energy as a wet noodle after sex. That's not a
threat."
"Them's fighting words, fibbie."
"Like you could ... hmphh.."
"You were saying?"
"Okay, so I was wrong. I've been known to be wrong before." And I have. I'm
willing to admit it, especially if it keeps him doing what he's doing. Oh yeah,
I could stay here for about a week and just drown in his kisses.
It's a complete shock when he breaks off the kiss and jumps off the bed and
heads back out to the living room, so I can't help but voice my displeasure.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"I need to make sure I bookmarked that site."
He's damn hot, damn sexy and he indulges me. How could I not love him?
Fish and Foreplay
by Sin
It's not often that I can get the drop on him, but there are times, a very few
times, when his concentration is so focused on something else that I can take
him unawares. And, believe me, I take advantage of those times, as they are few
and far between.
