Pretty As a Painting

Pretty As a Painting

Part 6 of Only In Dreams

Curled against Greg after his massage, Alex eventually allowed himself to relax. And then smile up at Greg with gratitude.

"Hmm," Greg murmured. "I could eat. You?"

Alex nodded.

They made breakfast together. True to his word, Greg didn't let Alex cook, even though the menu consisted of a simple plate of eggs and toast. Alex, however was allowed to make the drinks - tea for himself, and a "dark as night, Dear" cup of coffee for Greg. They talked comfortably through the process of this and that: Goings-on around London, moments that amused them from the latest recording. It was all so comfortable that a fly on the wall would have had no idea they'd spent less than a day together as an item. They were as natural together as breathing.

As their eating concluded, Greg became quiet, thoughtful. Alex was about to offer a penny for Greg's thoughts when the latter's head snapped up and gave him his wonderful, predatory grin...

"Alright, Alex," he said in a shiver-inducing tone that was soft but sharp. "I think it's my turn to properly lead the fun and games. I did all the work cooking breakfast. You are going to do all the clean-up. Then you're going to go back to the bedroom, and you're going to strip down, and you're going to await further directions."

Alex felt his eyes widen, and his body jolt into motion. He had the plates and silverware over to the sink before he realized he'd even begun clearing them. A piece of him wanted to make corrections - Greg had done all of the cooking, but not all of the work of making breakfast - Alex had prepared their beverages. But another piece of him snapped that inclination flat - it wasn't his place. He wouldn't dare correct Greg.

His brain swirled in delightful, busy patterns as he scrubbed the plates, set up the dishwasher, and cleaned the frying pan. Where was this going? What was Greg planning?

When he turned around from the sink, he saw that Greg had disappeared. No small feat for the man. No matter for Alex, however, he already had his instructions.

The previous day, when he'd silently run down the way to the bedroom, it had been in fear. And he'd found Greg sobbing in the en suite. It was lovely, in a way, to copy the action under such different circumstances.

When he got to the bedroom, he practically tore off what little he was wearing. He held up the shirt - Greg's shirt - that he'd been wearing. Looking around anxiously and not finding Greg, he risked flying back up the hall while folding the shirt. He set it gently on his shoes, then ran back to the bedroom.

And then he stood, beside the bed. And he waited.

"ALEX!" The sudden bellow made Alex jump violently in his skin - and left a throb in his core.

"Y- Yes, Greg?"

"En suite. Now."

And there was only one thing to do, wasn't there? Alex stepped in, tentatively.

The lighting was subdued this time, dimmed. And-

Greg sat on the loo again, but the Greg that sat there now was the complete opposite of yesterday's. He'd gotten dressed while Alex had done the clean up. Black turtleneck, black blazer, black trousers, black socks, black dress shoes. It was like a Home Edition of his Taskmaster suit. A version that Wardrobe couldn't stop him from having beyond the studio.

And he looked the rest of the part in attitude, as well, despite his throne being porcelain. Straight-backed, arms folded, legs crossed, and (the coup de grâce) one eyebrow raised.

The difference between Greg and Alex, naked and limp, couldn't be more stark. Alex found his throat closing slightly. Fear? Embarrassment? Both.

Greg let their contrasting presences ring out, loudly, for a full minute before he chose to speak.

"I was watching you yesterday, of course. There was a certain sight you seemed to particularly enjoy. I decided it was only fair that I enjoy it as well. And as I thought about that, I of course figured out how it could be improved."

He was quiet then, and Alex got a little twitchy at the silence. Then he realized Greg was waiting for him to respond. "Y-, uh, of course, Greg. What shall I... do?"

"There we go. Good boy," Greg purred, and a shiver trilled up Alex's spine. He continued, "Get into the shower, curtain open. Turn on the water, find a good temperature, and adjust the shower head so my floor stays dry."

Alex gave a rapid triple-nod and got into the shower. His mind continued to spiral and swirl through the possibilities. All of them made him anxious - he found being naked in front of an authoritative Greg very disconcerting. He had no doubt that was the intent, but the knowledge didn't lessen the effect.

He took more care with the angle of the shower head than the temperature, taking the dry floor order seriously. He found a temperature that was a bit above lukewarm - he didn't want it warm enough to be something he could relax into, and lose his edge. On the flipside... he was definitely self-conscious of causing unseemly shrinkage.

"It's done, Greg," he announced.

"Very good boy." This caused a deeper shiver, and Alex could feel his cock filling out some under the praise. It was simultaneously a relief - he felt a little less pathetic-looking - and a source of humiliation. And the humiliation was delicious, which was humiliating... Alex felt himself fade away slightly under the delirious feedback loop.

Greg slowly took Alex in from top to toes. He came back to Alex's thickening cock with a hungry sneer. "Yes. I think this is a lovely start. Now! You were so concerned about my hygiene yesterday, Alex, that you never did anything about your own. You will take care of that now. And you will take your time. Entertain me."

Alex paused for a moment. "I... didn't bring anything with me."

"There's any kind of soap you'd need there, Horne. Take care of business. Slowly."

Alex rapidly nodded. Taking a portion of Greg's shampoo into his hand, he couldn't help but breathe in the spice again and remember the first time he'd smelt it... He quickly worked it into his scalp, earning himself a rebuke.

"Ah ah ah! Slowly, Alex. Like yesterday."

Like yesterday? The circumstances were completely different! He couldn't... massage his own scalp, could he?

But he had to.

He moved his hands slowly, rubbing the shampoo across his head.

Greg's voice was soft and sharp again, cutting through the sound of the water. "Alex. That's not a massage. Put those lovely, lovely long fingers to work."

Alex nodded twice, rapidly, while blushing at the compliment. "Yes, Greg. Sorry, Greg."

Greg chuckled.

Alex pretended his fingers were working Greg's scalp again, trying to bring himself back to the day before. The pads of his fingers and thumbs worked firm, round circles. He felt himself fading again. He realized that maybe he could massage himself, and almost chuckled at how ridiculous that seemed.

"Enough," Greg commanded. "Conditioner."

And Alex obeyed, working it in slowly.

"Good boy. And now it's time to use the body soap."

Alex shivered, and wordlessly complied. His movement was automatic now, coasting without thought, relaxed into the slow pace required of him. It was slowly electrifying him; his brain had split, and while his fingers imagined massaging Greg, his skin imagined receiving a massage from Greg. Was he going mad?

He'd gotten partway through scrubbing his shoulders when Greg spoke again, his tone gently musing. "Oh, that is nice, isn't it? Pretty as a painting. I'd almost take a picture..."

Alex's eyes popped open, wide and initially unfocused. He looked at Greg, and found that he was grinning and staring... at Alex's cock.

Alex found himself involuntarily looking down. He was confused at first, just seeing himself from that unflattering angle. Then he managed to match the scenario with the similar moment from the day before... Soap and water running in rivulets, lovingly tracing each curve and vein of Greg's cock. His eyes rolled back to Greg, and could almost see how his own face might have looked before. Warm, and more than a little hungry. Greg had uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, and the play of light on Greg's trousers revealed his arousal at the scene.

Alex couldn't quite blush under all the water, but he felt like he was blazing.

"We'll have to do something about that, methinks," Greg purred. "But for now, back to the soaping, sweetcheeks."

Alex closed his eyes purely to escape his discomfort with all of the attention, and returned to cleaning his body. He jumped when it came time to clean his genitals, and did that part as lightly and quickly as possible. Thankfully, Greg did not chastise him for this.

When he was done, he heard Greg again. "Alex?" he purred.

"Y- Yes, Greg?"

"Run your hand down that lovely cock of yours."

Alex's eyes popped open again, and stared at Greg. They pleaded with him to change his mind. At the same time, the horrible amount of attention, the humiliation of the request... He felt himself fill out the rest of the way.

In fact, as they stared at each other, his hardness increased to the point where it was unbearable.

Greg chuckled low in his throat. "Ohhhh my baby boy. Look at you squirm and twitch! Just lovely... But. I gave you an order, and I'm still waiting. And I don't appreciate that."

Alex's heart leapt into his throat "I'm... I'm sorry Greg, but..."

"But? Run. your hand. down. your cock."

Alex felt faint, but brought his hand down between his throbbing erection and his belly. Though it resisted the direction, he brought his hand down to the base and pushed down its raging length.

The slow touch was agony, and not nearly enough. He heard a faint whine escape his lips.

"There's my good boy. Now you will stroke-" Greg drew out the final word- "slooooowly."

Alex shivered, and took himself again into his hand. Doing this intimate, personal thing while watched... It was excruciating. And that meant he wanted to rush through it, get it done, get Greg's eyes off of him.

But Greg didn't want him to rush. And, therefore, Alex could not rush.

His eyes slid shut for the minuscule amount of privacy it allowed. The sounds of the water and the shroud of steam allowed him to pretend he was alone, if only faintly.

But you're not alone, his mind whispered. He is here, He is watching. He is hard.

It simultaneously made the act more shameful... and all the more necessary.

His free hand reached up, gently pinching a nipple. He realized the hand on his cock was speeding up. There was a delicious agony when, mind split again, he begged himself to give in while harshly telling himself to slow down.

"There's my baby boy. Slow down, and give me a delicious show..."

A faint mewl escaped Alex's lips again as he forced himself to go even slower. His tip was purpling, and he risked sliding his thumb over it. His breath stuttered, and a slightly louder whine emerged from him.

His vision went white with erotic shock as he suddenly felt a tickle at the edge of his ear and Greg's rumbling voice within it. "Absolutely gorgeous. Hotter than my dreams. Feel what you've done, Alex..." Greg's body closed in from behind. He grabbed Alex's hand, and jammed it against the crotch of his trousers.

And that did it. Greg was rock hard, straining into Alex's hand from behind soaked fabric.

Alex gave an almost pained cry of surprise, and came, his orgasm pouring down the drain with the last of the soap.

He slowly melted downward onto his knees as Greg reached across and shut off the shower.

He looked up at Greg in a haze of love and lust for a moment, then moved forward eagerly and laid his head next to that raging erection. He fixated on it like it was the center of the universe. He ran his bottom lip up its length.

"Mmm, eager little puppy, aren't you?" Greg hummed. "I'm flattered. But you're a mess, and you've got me half-soaked. So not now, let's get sorted out."

Alex stood up weakly, uncertain of whether he was dreaming or awake. It didn't matter. There was only forward, towards Greg's voice.