torch, November 1997
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Disclaimer: [insert disclaimer here] A post-Sleepless story. Do not archive this story without permission.
By any other name
The first firm slap could have been a caress gone wrong, hard but not cruel, warming his ass. It sent ripples along his skin, tiny electric tendrils that spread out and then drew together again, closing up his throat, tightening his nipples, making his cock heavy and hard between his legs. The second doubled the effect of the first. Mulder drew his breath in and let his head fall forward, and as if that had been some signal previously agreed on between them, Alex started spanking him in earnest, sharp regular slaps spaced with amazing precision over his ass and the backs of his thighs.
God, the heat of it. It was so intimate, skin on skin, Alex's beautiful long-fingered hand coaxing shudder after shudder out of him. Mulder felt his spine shift, felt himself shift, as his back arched and dipped and his hips lifted. Every time the palm of Alex's hand impacted with his ass it started a wave rolling inside him, and he rolled with the wave and it brought him round and about and up again to meet the next slap, oh God, so good.
He was breathing harshly, open-mouthed, and when he spread his legs wider the blows stung the insides of his thighs too, just the way he wanted. He moaned softly, and felt Alex's other hand suddenly clamp down on the back of his neck. "You're so pretty now," a tender whisper as another harder blow rocked him, "ass in the air, you really want this, you want it bad." Three quick, stinging slaps made his breath catch and he felt the beginnings of the hot coiling sensation that would twist him into orgasm. "Go on, move your hips, show me you like it."
And he did, launching himself into a wildness of demanding surrender, showing everything, holding nothing back, fuck it was so good, it was wonderful, hard and fast and hot, his skin was alive, all of him was so alive he wanted to scream with the pleasure of it. When it stopped, he couldn't believe it; he arched, and growled between his teeth, wanting more. "What the fucking hell do you think you're—"
One more hard slap stopped the words, then Alex let go of his neck and tugged at his body, moving him until he was kneeling across his lover's legs, facing the foot of the bed. Alex ran one hand appreciatively over his ass, stopping for the occasional pinch in a sensitive spot. Then the other hand returned too, slick-fingered and demanding, stroking the willing entrance to his body and then probing it.
Mulder made a sound low in his throat as one finger became two. And then three, and those three fingers fucked him slowly, in and out, opening him up, while Alex's free hand stroked and caressed and then suddenly slapped him again. He moaned again, louder this time, and rocked back against Alex's fingers. When those fingers were withdrawn he bit down on a sound of protest, and stayed silently hopeful. Alex pushed him forward a little, then caught his hips with one hand and pulled him back again.
"Come on, Mulder. Sit on it."
He gasped, tensing his thighs, as he felt the head of Alex's cock press against him, into him. Mulder started to work himself down on it with slow, pushing, screwing motions, rolling his hips in careful spirals, feeling himself open up more and more as gravity and desire conspired to let him take Alex inside. "Yeah, that's good..." The living pulsing hardness in him, in his ass, yes; he twisted and tightened his muscles around it and heard Alex gasp.
"Fuck yeah... go on then," another slap, not so hard now, "go on, fuck yourself, move your tight ass, bitch—" He tensed, rose up and slid down again, anchored on the hard flesh embedded in his own, again and again, fucking himself, screwing himself, yes, screwing, that slow screwing grinding downward motion that let him take Alex in so deep... yes... God yes...
His ass burned. His whole body burned. Throwing his head back, he moved faster, and closed a hand around his own erection, stroking himself towards completion.
"You touching yourself, Mulder?" Hard hands closed around his arms. "Don't you fucking touch yourself." His hands were pulled behind his back, twisted into place there. "This is all you get, you better work your ass till you come," another tug on his arms, almost painful, "you hear me?"
"I hate you," he whispered, hips bucking. The strain in his arms was good too, pulling him taut, drawing him down, making his back arch. He was trapped in the closeness of them; the world ended at the borders of their skin. Reality was his own panting breaths, the fingers digging into his wrists.
"Sure you do." Reality was the hard cock inside him, and his own aching erection. He shifted up and drove himself down, impaled himself again and again, aware that he was being noisy but incapable of caring — as if Alex couldn't tell anyway how badly he wanted this, needed it.
It wasn't going to work, he couldn't come like this... pressing down he felt that incredible stretching, muscle-tugging sensation that radiated through his pelvis and tightened his balls... not like this, his thighs ached, all of him ached, and he needed more than this, more than just that feeling, that friction, the tantalizing slide over his prostate when he moved like this—
"Oh God oh God oh God ohgodohgod—" He threw his head back and howled as his body twisted, far beyond his conscious control, a mindless rush towards the promise of pleasure. Hands tightened around his wrists and he sobbed out loud and time grew slow and smooth like jelly and he was there, there, here, yes, "yes, Alex!" The flame raced up the fuse of his spine, lingered a moment at the back of his neck, and then his head exploded.
He was held, drawn back to slump in exhaustion against his lover's body. Hands stroked him, gathered him in, gave him shape again. Mulder sucked in air. "You alive?" The teasing question was followed by a suggestive movement of hard flesh within him, and he whimpered softly. Even now, sated and exhausted, his body knew that movement and responded to it. "You know, I like your back, it's very expressive. I can tell by your shoulder muscles when you're going to come."
Alex urged him up and their bodies parted. Mulder fell forward instead, on his hands and knees, and felt the blood rush back into his calves and feet. A few moments later Alex's weight was on him, pressing him down to lie flat, knees pushing his legs apart. He tilted his hips against the searching pressure of his lover's hard cock and felt a liquid, gliding dizziness as it slid back into him, easily, deeply. Alex grunted and pressed even deeper, his fingers biting into Mulder's upper arms.
"Don't call me," the air wheezed out of him as Alex thrust hard, "don't call me bitch again." Another hard thrust, slow but relentless.
"Why not?" Sharp teeth nipped his shoulder. He spread his legs wider, pushing back against Alex, enjoying the sensation. Scattered sparks of renewed desire pulled together to burn slowly in his ass, in his cock, building in his throat like a moan. "You get off on it. Just stop being embarrassed by it afterwards," a harder thrust slapped against his buttocks and he felt the heat there flare up again. Alex laughed softly in his ear. "But if you stopped being embarrassed, it wouldn't turn you on any more, would it." The next two thrusts were slow and languid. "Tell me to fuck you harder, Mulder."
He sucked in air between his teeth, tried to keep his hips from twisting and demanding more. "Why?"
"Because you want me to." Slow, so slow, pushing into him, then pressing hard when they were fully joined. He was getting hard again. He wanted to open himself up, turn himself inside out, be touched everywhere at once. "Because you know how good it will feel."
And he did. He knew that very well. Mulder tried to resist the casual certainty of Alex's voice, but his body had already surrendered. The next deep and thorough stroke drove the air out of his lungs and he groaned and arched up, back, only to have Alex pull away. "Bastard."
"Oh, so it's all right if you call me names." Alex bit the back of his neck. The small, sharp pain contrasted nicely with the diffuse pleasure spreading through him. Mulder squirmed.
"Harder," he said softly. Alex bit him again, setting a new teeth mark next to the first one, and Mulder closed his eyes and moaned. "Harder... Alex... ow... fuck me harder, damn it."
And then he gasped in helpless delight as Alex did fuck him harder, hard and fast, steady strokes that hammered him into a shape that was familiar by now, and new each time. Sometimes, when he could think, he would think about the fact that Alex was different from any other lover he'd ever known. Sometimes when he couldn't think, he would cry out wordlessly, and ask for more and more and more and more, and it would be given to him.
He let himself be directed by that unwavering, remorseless pace, alternately yielding to it and struggling against it as his body sought to maximize its own pleasure. His muscles fought, flexed, liquefied, tightened again; his eyes were closed, fingers gripping the sheets, teeth sunk into his lower lip. Perfect, he thought wildly and pushed back, passion flaring as sore reddened skin pressed against the casual strength of Alex's downward pressure. On the next thrust he let himself be shoved into the mattress and felt the uneven friction of wrinkled cotton against his cock.
It was too good to last, too good for him to resist, and Alex would not let up but kept pushing him on, driving into him, forcing him towards release. He thought about trying to hold back and delay the inevitable ending, but Alex had him pinned down and every move he made sent another shockwave of escalating pleasure through him. There was no escape, thank God, there was no escape at all. Mulder sobbed quietly, held together by the hard grip on his arms even as he was split open, laid bare, his secret delights revealed.
Now, please, he tried to say, now, you have to make me come now or I'm going to die, Alex, please—
Everything was out of his hands, and he shuddered, tried to find his voice, to cry out loud. Nothing changed either when he moved or when he yielded. Alex went on fucking him steadily, the only variation an occasional bite to his neck or shoulder. It was the very opposite of their previous coupling, where Mulder had been turned loose to find his own pleasure; here he had no choice but to accept it. And Alex was oh, so thorough in giving it to him.
Please, the word did not take shape but he moaned out loud, oh please. He didn't know what he was pleading for when Alex was all but forcing pleasure on him, could not want anything beyond release. When he opened his eyes he saw his own hands, white-knuckled and tight with silent begging. The next thrust drove him back into darkness. He was breathing harshly, irregularly, and the slick hard glide within him did not pause or falter. Oh God, please!
It came over him suddenly as summer lightning, pinpricks of fire sparking under his skin, along his shoulderblades, in the small of his back, around the straining muscles of his calves. They drew together and struck deep into the core of him where the hammered pulse of delight had reached and tormented him, and he stopped thinking of resistance or surrender, stopped thinking, swept by fire from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. If he cried out, he never knew, but he felt the shivered release, the hot spurting wetness that clung to the sheets and to his belly.
Oh, he thought again, but differently now, floating lazily, his only anchor the steady presence of Alex within him, the pace that had stayed the same the whole time. Now, though, he felt the gathering ache in the body that pressed into his, as the thrusts turned slower and longer and rougher, as fingers bit harder into him, felt the moment of supreme tension and utter dissolution, heard the short, raw cry that was all the noise Alex ever permitted himself.
Even that tiny crack in his lover's self-control was deeply fascinating to Mulder, who held Alex tighter with his body, hoping to squeeze more out of him, some further concession to pleasure. He abruptly realized he couldn't bear the thought that Alex did not experience the same tearing, sharp-edged ecstasy that he did.
With Alex's full weight on him, he lay happily flat, in a state of liquid contentment that almost made him believe his body was as soft and comfortable under Alex's as the mattress was under him. Minutes passed slowly, before Mulder felt Alex gather himself up again, arms tightening around him, teeth nipping at his earlobe.
"That was good," Alex said, his voice a husky purr. "Bitch," he added thoughtfully with a last slow thrust before pulling out and falling bonelessly to one side.
Mulder turned quickly, tensing up so fast his muscles snapped and complained, and looked at Alex's face. The small smile he found was more teasing than reassuring, although perhaps meant to be both. About to say something, he held off for a moment, listening to his body, the lingering sweetness, the burning heat of his buttocks.
"You think I'm repressed."
"I think you're beautiful, Mulder." Alex tugged him close, pulled Mulder's head down to rest on his shoulder. Mulder closed his eyes and relaxed again, pressed closer, licked the sweat from Alex's neck. "I think you're beautiful in your high-fashion Armani camouflage, ties and all. I think you're beautiful on your hands and knees with my hand coming down on your ass." A slow chuckle ruffled Mulder's hair. "And when I call you bitch and you look at me that way, like you want to hit me, and you want to ask me to spank you again. That's absolutely fucking gorgeous, Mulder."
"Tell me more," he demanded, biting at Alex's neck, worrying at the flesh and skin between his teeth. "Tell me what you like, tell me why you like it."
"Such amazing subtlety," Alex said, amused. "All those psych classes really paid off. Anyway, do you mean you want to know what I like about you, or just, you know, what I like in general, like day lilies or Nine Inch Nails?"
"I didn't know you were interested in botany. Or carpentry," he added to hear Alex laugh. "I want to know what you like in bed."
"I thought that was pretty obvious." A single fingertip trailed slowly down, bumping over every rib. Mulder, ticklish but relaxed, only squirmed a little. "I like you in bed. I like it a lot," there was that faintly purring tone of voice that had first seduced Mulder, made him look more closely at his new partner.
"That's not what I meant."
"No." Alex was less easy now. "What would you do if I confessed to harboring fantasies that involved see-through raincoats and egg beaters?"
"Well, there's an egg beater in the kitchen somewhere, but we'd have to go shopping for the raincoat." Mulder reluctantly lifted himself up on one elbow so that he could look down at Alex, study the other man's face, that had become so suddenly intimately familiar. "I just want to be sure you're having a good time."
Alex closed his eyes. "Because I give you what you want and it disturbs you afterwards, so you want to be able to do something for me that would disturb me, to make you feel better. I'm sorry, Mulder, but I'm not carrying around as much sexual guilt as you are, you'll just have to live with that."
"Fuck you." Mulder sat up and scrubbed irritably at his face, then pushed his hand back through his hair, grooming himself in short precise movements like an insulted cat. Sitting made him aware once again of hot, sensitized skin, but now the feeling was vaguely unpleasant, unwelcome. "I'm happy you're so well adjusted. I also think you can get the hell out of my bed and find someone else to practice sexual therapy on."
"Oh, please." Alex didn't move. He lay where he had fallen, one arm still curved around the ghost of Mulder's body. "I like doing things for you, okay? I get off on it. Don't try to make it any more complicated."
"You started it. And when you're dealing with the human sexual response, simplicity is a myth." Then Mulder couldn't help grinning, and the act of stretching his mouth in a smile took the edges off his annoyance. "So you're saying you get a kick out of being my sex toy."
"Yeah." Alex returned the smile with interest, and shifted one hand to brush against Mulder's back. So he didn't really want a fight, either. Mulder let himself lean back again, sinking gradually into the embrace of mattress, sheets, and Alex's arms.
"In that case," he purred, "about the egg beater..."
Alex's hand came down just hard enough to sting. "Leather yes, handcuffs yes, jam and honey yes, lacy underwear if you insist. But no kitchen implements. I'm kind of old-fashioned that way."
"I'd do it for you," Mulder said with his best air of offended sincerity. "Some sex toy you are."
"Mulder—"
Alex grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss that seared its way into him and started a slow burn of renewed desire in the pit of his stomach. If it had not been for the hard grip of Alex's hand he would have shaken his head incredulously; it was too soon, far too soon. Another kiss made the tightening heat sink lower, blood gathering to heat and harden him. Much too soon. But Alex had only come once so far, and it really wasn't fair. "Let's go take a shower," he suggested as soon as he could break his mouth free.
"I was just getting comfortable," Alex objected, grinding against him. "What do you want to take a shower for?"
Mulder licked at Alex's jaw and scraped his tongue; he wound his way towards the ear. "So I can press you up against the wall under the water and get on my knees in front of you and take your cock in my mouth and suck it hard and taste you when you come."
"Very succinctly put," Alex said. "I think you've convinced me." He turned his head and brushed his lips over Mulder's. His eyes sparkled with lust and mischief, a glittering cover over the darkness below, as he added an affectionate, "Slut."