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Alex is the one who has engineered this bizarre sexual tension between them, everyone knows that, and while Greg has gradually got better and better at playing along, he can’t say he’s ever really felt any genuine sexual attraction for the little weasel. Well, there was one time where Alex turned up to a drinking session with a leather jacket on and for the slimmest of nanoseconds Greg’s libido had paid attention, shaking him up and whispering fucking look at that in his ear. But apart from that one incident which Greg is willing to admit, shook him up for a while and made him feel weird, in the bad way, all Greg feels for Alex is fondness, affection, and occasionally the urge to strangle him to death.
Thank fuck the heatwave that London is currently experiencing is happening now and not when they were filming the latest series of Taskmaster, because Greg isn’t too proud to admit he’s a mess. He doesn’t think his balls have ever been so hot and it’s a good job he’s not looking to procreate anytime soon because his swimmers are being flash fried. Greg tells himself it’s for the best that he hasn’t seen Alex since they finished filming the show. Tells himself that Alex would be in serious danger of a kicking if he even so much as hinted that Greg looks like he’s slowly being basted in his own sweat, but perversely he also misses the annoying little fucker.
Greg calls him just for something to do that isn’t laying on the hardwood floor of his living room and panting like a dog. When he answers, Alex’s cheerful voice makes Greg immediately want to punch him and he tells him so to amused assertions that Greg was the one who called him.
“Fuck off, I bet you’re all cool out there in the countryside with your cute little dog and an ice cold beer from Waitrose, you posh git.”
Alex chuckles, which irritates Greg even more and he has the childish urge to just hang up on him.
“Not quite. It’s a bit cooler in Chesham but I’m actually in London at the moment.”
Greg’s immediate reaction is that he’s perversely pleased that Alex must be suffering too. His second thought is a nagging little voice that tells him that Alex is seeing his funnier London friends, that he wouldn’t have even told Greg he was in London if Greg hadn’t called. Despite the fact that Greg knows this probably isn’t true, he makes a huffing disgruntled sound down the phone.
“I was going to call you and see if we could meet up,” Alex says calmly.
“Don’t patronise me,” Greg barks back, secretly pleased that it seems like Alex is telling the truth about wanting to see him, at least it’s not the sort of thing Alex tends to lie about which he finds reassuring.
“You don’t want to see me then?” Alex says, a hint of a teasing smile under the words, the little shit.
“That’s not what I said.”
Alex chuckles richly in his ear, turning the sound into a childish giggle when Greg starts to object to the laughter at his expense.
“Come out to play with me,” Alex wheedles, provocatively.
The urge Greg has to strangle him rises up until it’s a clear image in his mind, his finger’s around Alex’s throat, Alex’s reflexive swallowing as Greg tightens his grip, the sweat slicking the path of his fingers.
“Where are you?” Greg manages to choke out, feeling his cock twitch confusingly inside his sweat-damp pants.
“In a park,” Alex responds, unhelpfully, and from the tone of his voice it’s absolutely deliberate.
“There’s a fuck-tonne of parks in London you little shit, be more specific. And it better be less than 10 minutes away because I’m sweating like a nonce in a playground.”
“Greg!” Alex blurts, seemingly scandalised by Greg’s joke, even though Greg has heard him make worse, when no one else is listening.
“I’m in the park down the road from your flat. Hurry up, I’m lonely and there’s a man looking at me in a funny way. I might have to get out my rape whistle.”
“There better be ice cream,” Greg warns, ignoring Alex’s attempt at humour and snagging his keys from the little hook by the front door.
Alex is easy to spot because despite the fact that Greg teases him about being little, he’s a tall man. Also he has no kids with him and he’s wearing a garish shirt with what looks like mermaids on it that’s visible from space. On getting a bit closer Greg can see it’s mermen because of course it fucking is, he’s a weirdo.
As Greg gets closer, he reaches out to clap him on the back and recoils because Alex’s shirt is so clammy it immediately sticks to Greg’s hand. Greg wipes his hand on his own shorts and makes a face that results in Alex snort-laughing at him.
“You are moist.” Greg declares.
Alex is definitely moist, Greg can see the sweat shining on his neck but he’s also glowing in a way that both irritates Greg and makes him jealous.
“I definitely am,” Alex replies, a twinkle in his eye.
Greg’s stomach does a little flip-flop inside his body and he thinks for fuck’s sake, fuck off, at himself with some degree of venom.
“I promised ice cream,” Alex says, pointing at the ice cream van parked haphazardly on the curb just outside the park.
“Now you’re talking. But if anyone asks for a photo, I’m going to punch them in the face. Deal?”
“No you won’t. You’ll be kind and grateful and then when we’re somewhere private, then you’ll tell me what a cunt they were.”
Alex’s use of the word cunt sparks something off inside Greg’s brain and he smiles warmly at him in response.
“You should use that word more often. It suits you.”
Not responding to Greg’s assertion, Alex bumps Greg’s shoulder and walks off towards the ice cream.
Greg makes Alex pay for a 99 with raspberry sauce and proceeds to push the Flake down inside the cone, licking his fingers when the chocolate can no longer be seen and then taking a great big swipe of the soft ice cream with his tongue. Greg turns back to Alex to find that he’s got an ice lolly and he’s sucking the tip like a tart.
“Why the fuck would you get an ice lolly when you can have a Mister Whippy?”
“It’s too hot for ice cream, plus this way I get to suck it for your viewing pleasure.” Alex drops his voice at the end of sentence and leans in like he’s telling Greg a secret, taking a big long theatric lick of the lolly and then hollowing his cheeks as he sucks, maintaining eye contact with Greg the whole time.
“You little slut,” Greg growls before he can stop himself.
“Says the man with cream all over his lips.”
Alex winks at Greg and Greg once again feels the urge to punch him in the face, only this time the feeling is accompanied by a buzzing arousal deep in his pelvis. Shit, Greg whispers to himself as Alex saunters nonchalantly off in the direction of Greg’s flat.
They don’t speak on the walk back to the flat. Greg tries not to watch Alex sucking at the sticky red ice lolly, the artificial colours turning his tongue and his lips red, trying to concentrate on his own ice cream before it melts all over the pavement. Alex finishes the flavoured ice and licks his lips, holding the stick as they walk in lieu of a bin. Of course Alex would never litter, despite the item being made of wood. Greg knocks it out of his hand on to the grass and gets a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach from Alex’s sticky fingers and his loud protestations that Greg is a dick.
Once they get inside, Alex goes to wash his hands and Greg fishes two cans of coke out of the fridge, holding one against his face for a moment before going to find Alex and handing him the slightly warmer can.
As they sit together on the couch, Greg silently lamenting the fact that Alex is present in the flat and he therefore doesn’t feel like it’s appropriate for him to strip naked and lay on the floor, Greg notices a drop of sticky red ice lolly fluid nestling in the chest hair peeking out of Alex’s shirt. It should be disgusting but that tacky red drop is all he can look at, taking sips of his coke in between staring at the juncture where Alex’s shirt meets his chest hair.
“Have I got something on me? You’re staring.” Alex asks, looking at himself up and down and finding nothing untoward.
“You’ve got some ice lolly in that misplaced pubic hair on your chest.”
“Oh,” Alex says, looking down and giving himself a double chin trying to see. After a few seconds of glaring ineffectually Alex says playfully, “you wanna lick it off?”
Greg freezes because he sort of does.
More silence fills the room, Greg doesn’t realise he’s been leaning towards Alex until he’s so close Greg can’t focus on his face.
“I don’t mind,” Alex whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.
All of a sudden Greg can see their relationship for what it is, for what it probably always has been if only he’d have let himself feel it.
“Yeah,” Alex breathes, rigidly still and barely breathing.
Greg touches his lips to Alex’s throat, chest hair crinkling against him as the sheer heat of Alex’s skin blasts him in the face. The burst of sweetness is almost unbearable as his tongue finds the sticky liquid he’s been staring at for several lifetimes.
“It’s about fucking time,” Alex mumbles under his tongue, swallowing roughly.
Not allowing himself to think too much about what he’s doing and to whom, Greg slides his tongue up the side of Alex’s neck and bites him there, coaxing a yelp from between red ice lolly stained lips, tasting the salt of Alex’s skin burst over his tongue, and experiencing a low humming throb building up in his groin. With a hand to Alex’s face, Greg turns his head until they’re nose-to-nose, feeling the quickened breaths against his lips, as Alex drops his gaze to Greg’s mouth. Alex’s lips are cold and sweet and he opens beautifully as Greg tests the waters with the tip of his tongue, feeling the unfamiliar scratch against his face as their facial hair rubs together.
Alex pulls back just as the burn is becoming too much for Greg. He leans his forehead against Greg’s and whispers, “have you got something else I can suck?”
Greg snorts a laugh at the terrible line, putting a hand to the waistband of his shorts and retorting, “it won’t be cold.”
Pecking Greg on the lips, Alex slides gracefully to his knees and shuffles between Greg’s thighs, pulling him by the hips until he’s lower down on the couch.
“It took you long enough,” Alex admonishes, stroking a sure hand over Greg’s erection and looking up at him with something bordering on glee.
Before Greg can do anything else, Alex slides his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and puts it to his ear.
“I’m on my knees in front of Greg and I’m about to suck him off.”
Greg can hear what is presumably Rachel’s reaction even though she’s not on speakerphone. There’s an incredibly loud excited screech and Alex pulls the phone away from his ear to protect his eardrum.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” Alex assures her, hanging up the call and putting the phone down on the floor.
Alex leans closer, looks up at Greg and says, “that’s an incredibly impressive hard-on you’ve got there, not a soft lob in sight.”
“It’s your lucky day.”
“Isn’t it just.”
Lowering his head, Alex sucks at the tip of Greg’s cock, swirling his tongue around it like he’s an ice cream. Greg has had numerous blow jobs in his life and Alex isn’t particularly skilled but very quickly Greg is losing his mind. The noises Alex is making are truly pornographic. He sounds like he’s eating the most delicious dessert on the planet, using his hand to catch the saliva running down Greg’s cock and stroking what he can’t fit into his mouth. Alex’s tongue flickers over the head and Greg knows he’s leaking badly, has rarely been this excited this fast, it would be embarrassing if Greg had any functioning braincells left at all. Curling his tongue around Greg’s shaft, Alex takes him too far and gags, his throat closing tightly around Greg’s rigid flesh and pulling a swearword completely unbidden out of him. Pulling back, Alex rests his head against Greg’s sweaty thigh and works him with his hand, placing open-mouthed kisses on Greg’s salty skin as he twists his hand and then turns his head and spits at Greg’s cock.
“Oh god,” Greg hears himself say out loud, the sound coming at him like he’s got cottonwool in his ears.
With a bead of sweat rolling down his face, Alex puts his mouth back where it belongs, his eyes closed and jagged breaths coming out through his nose. Alex is essentially straddling one of Greg’s hairless shins, pushing his face down on to Greg’s cock and moaning up a storm like he’s the one getting blown.
Greg is so close to coming, it would take barely anything to tip him over the edge but it’s the feeling of the knuckles of Alex’s other hand, working his own cock, so that he brushes against Greg’s shin repeatedly that does it. The fact that Alex appears to be so excited about sucking Greg that he just can’t wait to get his hands on himself, can’t wait to blow his load over Greg’s leg, on the floor in Greg’s living room.
Grunting low and deep, Greg spills into Alex’s mouth, not even a courtesy warning before he’s coming into wet warmth and Alex is swallowing, a drop of pearlescent white stark against his cherry red lips.
The fluid on Greg’s shin tells him that Alex has come but he has no idea when.
Alex gets creakily off the floor and flings himself on the couch next to Greg.
“You are the densest man I think I’ve ever met. Even Tim got it quicker than that.”
Just as the insult is registering, Greg hears the other part of the sentence and despite what he and Alex have just done together he’s appalled.
“Tim Fucking Key? Are you joking? Urgh.”
“More like fucking Tim Key,” Alex quips, reaching for the can of coke to chase Greg’s semen down with.
“If you hadn’t just sucked my brains out through my dick, I might have more to say about that.”
Greg can’t help making a face while Alex just smirks at him and finishes his drink.
Eventually the heat drives Alex to announce he’s leaving and he stands up, dropping a polite kiss on Greg’s mouth and turning to go. Greg reaches out and grabs for him, putting hands either side of his hips and pulling him close.
Alex chuckles, “I don’t know whether you noticed but I jizzed on your leg. I’m not getting it up again for a good few hours.”
Greg glares at him and pulls the waistband of his shorts down to reveal his hipbone, or at least where his hipbone would be if he was a bit fitter. With a glance up Alex’s body to witness the amused expression on his face, Greg sucks a mark on to the flesh over his hip, soothing it with his tongue and kissing the skin as he lets Alex go.
“A little reminder that I was here,” Greg says, rubbing a thumb over the soon-to-be livid bruise marring Alex’s pale skin.
“Rachel’s going to come more than once when she sees that.”
Alex raises his eyebrows and smirks at Greg.
“See you later Greg. I expect payback in full, better get practicing.”
Sliding his thumb against Greg’s slick bottom lip, Alex pushes it in just enough to feel the wetness, just enough to tease. Before Greg can do anything at all, Alex pulls away and walks towards the door, a wave over his shoulder and a spring in his step and Greg will never look at an ice lolly in the same way again.