Come On, Then (The Grin)

Part 1 of Only In Dreams

"Come on, then," Greg says from his throne, in front of five professional colleagues and a full studio audience.

For one moment, Alex's world is frozen in place. From his own throne (appropriately lowered, appropriately shrunken, small), Alex finds every episode from the past six-and-a-half series flying through his head. The development of Alex and Greg's on-screen personas. The fake-outs and teases. The audience that grew thirsty over some very cheeky jokes.

And it all leads so naturally to this.

The memories fade out, reality feathers back in. Time moves, but like treacle.

Alex's face, as he turns, requires no acting. His eyes are wide and his face is red with the disbelief that their bit has gone this far. That he wrote their bit to go this far.

That he wanted their bit to go this far.

Greg's smiling eyes and cheeky grin flash a joke just to Alex. There's no going back now, mate. Ready or not, we are doing this.

Alex's eyes dart briefly to Greg's lips, then raise anxiously again to meet Greg's eyes and-

Greg's eyes have lost their gentle merriment. They harden, become hungry. The cheeky grin also hardens, becoming predatory.

Greg has become a wolf, threatening not to kiss Alex, but to devour him entirely. Alex stops himself from swallowing visibly, and isn't sure the reflex is out of fear or anticipation.

They kiss. On camera. In front of the five colleagues and the studio audience, but also in front of the broadcast audience, and later to a very eager internet.

Greg's half of the kiss is chaste, but unwavering. Firm. Intentional. As Alex meets his lips, his brain explodes in a million directions. The reality of what is happening sets his entirety on fire, and he has a need to push for more. Self preservation screams from within him - Are you mad? Kissing a subordinate? On national TV?? - and he pulls back the tiniest amount. The audience's reaction, however - the applause, the cooed "awws," the roared cheers - pulls him back in, and their lips meet again.

He pulls away with an idiot grin, dizzy. Then his sense of self preservation cuts through the fog again, just enough, and he falls into the well-established flow of introducing the next task, getting himself and the show back on track.

Greg shows no signs of being knocked off balance by the whole thing. Another gag, successfully performed for applause. Yet another on-screen kiss, nothing new or special. Next task, please!

But as the video plays that next task, Alex finds his focus shifting away, returning to the tingling memory on his lips and the image burned into his mind - Greg's eyes with a hungry gleam, a predatory grin ready to bite. That grin was ready to eat Alex whole, and Alex was ready to be eaten whole.

That grin...

__________

The show ends, and everyone bustles with their usual activities. Alex can't believe how normal everything seems around him. There are certainly a few laughs here and there, kudos for pushing the envelope so far, getting such a reaction from the audience. But everyone is cheering a joke executed well, and Alex is fighting a need to return to what felt like an Event.

He passes Greg on his way to his own dressing room, and nearly freezes, hoping the moment had somehow changed Greg. Maybe Greg could feel the truth? Could it have awakened him to Alex's feelings?

But Greg just grins impishly, puckering his lips comically at Alex for a moment. Alex reddens and forces a laugh in response.

Once everything is wrapped up, all there is to do is head home.

__________

His flat is..... Functional. Simple, calm, organized.

Alex stumbles through his evening, following old patterns robotically while his mind races back to the grin. The grin, and all the places it wouldn't go. All the places he desperately wishes it would go.

He settles into bed early, tries to distract his mind by reading, fails, and finally turns out the lights.

His lips and body tingle in the dark, as he tries to think of anything else.

That dark, hungry grin...

__________

He sits on his throne (appropriately lowered, appropriately shrunken, small). He gazes up at Greg, but this time Alex's sense of self preservation is perfectly, beautifully silent.

Their eyes meet, but there is no shared joke this time. No silent laughing at a bit gone too far. There is only the grin.

"Come on, then," Greg says. But this time the words aren't a casual invitation to something silly. Accompanied by the grin, they are mocking him. Come on, you pile of rubbish, I'll deign to indulge your pathetic fascination.

As Alex leans forward, a silent whoosh in the air banishes the contestants, the cameras, the audience. It also banishes anything holding Greg back...

Greg's mouth opens impossibly wide, revealing rows and rows of shark's teeth. They rend and tear Alex' chest wide open, and his world goes blinding white with pain.

__________

Alex awakens with a strangled scream. He throws himself back in bed, and forces his breath to slow, forces his body to slow, and in so doing manages to ever-so-slightly slow down his thoughts.

Silently observing where those thoughts jump to and from, he sorts out the dream:

His fear of all the audiences is real, and deep. But one fear runs deeper still: The fear that if he ever properly revealed his feelings to Greg, Greg would simply be amused. Amused that Little Alex Horne could possibly consider himself worthy of someone like Greg.

That amusement would destroy Alex.

Alex focuses on more deep breathing, reminding himself that he is safe. When the kiss happened, he was pulled back to reality in time. He returned to the show, did his job, and the audience was entertained... while being none the wiser.

He was safe. His secret was hidden. He was safe.

His breathing slows down, and he returns to sleep.

__________

He is on his throne (appropriately lowered, appropriately shrunken, small). He gazes up at Greg. Again there is a silent woosh through the air, and it dismisses the world. There are two chairs, a wide-eyed Alex, and a softly-smiling Greg.

"Greg, I-," Alex clears his tightening throat, blinks back tears of hope and fear, tries again. "I genuinely want to kiss you right now."

The first time he had said those words, they were stiff. Torn between being truthful, and being a silly joke on television.

But the onlookers are gone now, gone as if they never were. They are alone here, and Alex's secret is safe. Alex is safe.

And so he speaks those words without the torn fumbling. With warmth, with sincerity, with the faintest tremble of hope.

Greg hears his honesty, and raises an eyebrow. Alex tenses, anticipating the mockery he absolutely deserves.

Greg leans forward and his eyes harden, become hungry. His smile also hardens, becoming predatory.

Alex hears his own voice whispering gently to him from everywhere. No, you are safe. You are safe, here.

And Alex realizes he is wrong. Greg's eyes aren't hard. They are smoldering, with desire. His mouth is eager, hungry, but not to destroy Alex. Hungry to-

"Come on, then-"

Alex rushes forward, their lips meet, and his world is white lightning and fireworks. His limbs are somehow infused with fire and ice both, his entirety made of raw joy.

The kiss begins soft and tender, but quickly becomes frantic. It has the neediness of making up for lost time. Alex's hands come up and cup each side of Greg's jaw, thumbs tracing down his stubble, trembling in fear that Greg will pull away.

But Greg's hands are now cupping the back of Alex's head, also trembling as his fingers run gently through Alex's hair.

They stand, the silly chairs vanishing. They both lower themselves awkwardly, not daring to break their kiss.

As their knees touch the ground, the darkness of the room peels away. The world becomes sunlight made gentle by a lush tree canopy. They are cushioned by a soft, thick, light pink blanket.

Somewhere in the change, their shirts had vanished. Alex's hands leave Greg's jaw, and he gently runs the backs of his fingers down Greg's chest and belly. His eyes fill with tears at the peace that comes from finally touching him.

He reluctantly breaks contact with Greg's lips, so he can instead kiss along Greg's collarbone. He lightly runs his lips across, breathing in.

Greg lowers his head until his lips touch Alex's ear. He murmurs, soft and so growlingly low, "I can't believe this is finally happening. Alex. You are so lovely before me. Your hands are so sweet on me. Your eyes are so..... honest, and beautiful. Brilliant as the sun."

The deep vibrations fill Alex's skull, his cock strains against his trousers. A low, ragged moan fills his own throat.

"You like that?" Greg lilts, and Alex doesn't have to look over to know the grin is back, hungry and hopeful. A dark and dazzling thing, shifting with Greg's moods.

Greg keeps rumbling a deep growl in his throat as he slowly kisses up the side of Alex's face. Alex's eyes roll closed, and he almost feels faint, overwhelmed at the intensity of the sensations and his body's response to them. The straining of his cock is almost unbearable, but -

"Greg - ah! - Greg, please, can I suck you? Please? I need to..."

They lean back from each other. Greg's eyes have their own gravity, their intensity keeping Alex close. They are now full of surprise. "You need to? Are you sure?"

"Please Greg. I need to. I want so much to please you. I want to take you in my mouth, to feel you, to taste you. Please."

Greg looks speechless. He reaches down, and pulls his cock out of his trousers. He is fully hard, almost visibly throbbing with his arousal. The evidence that he, Little Alex Horne, could cause such a reaction in Greg.... It is overwhelming. Fresh tears well up in his eyes.

Greg lays back onto the blanket, which is thankfully large enough for one giant to stretch out on. His trousers and pants are gone now, lost to the dream. He looks across himself to Alex, his expression tender and amazed.

Alex takes in the full sight of him. Leaning to the ground to approach Greg's cock is awkward, but Alex delights in it. It forces him to curl into a deep bow, to worship this place and this moment and this man.

Alex brings his face down beside Greg's cock. He inhales, then softly brings his cheek up along the shaft, reveling in the contradiction of hard core but soft skin, the heat it radiates. His hand holds the side of it, and he presses loving kisses all along its length.

Greg's moan mixes pleasure with a hint of impatience, of greed.

Repositioning his body between Greg's legs, Alex bows deeply again. This time, his tongue presses down into Greg's balls, causing a sharp intake of breath. From there, Alex drags his tongue firmly upward, up Greg's shaft, until he finally wraps his mouth around the tip.

Greg softly moans his name.

As Alex draws Greg in, his own body loses a deep tension. Finally, his mind sighs beautifully.

As Alex begins to work his mouth around Greg, flicking and swirling his tongue, Greg's hips begin rocking. At first they are slow and sensual, and Alex matches their rhythm. But as Greg moans again - " Fuck...... Oh, sweet Alex...." - the pace picks up, and rocking becomes thrusting.

Alex wills himself to keep up, absolutely determined to please every inch of Greg's cock with every ounce of his own being.

Soon, Alex simply holds steady and focuses on taking in Greg's thrusts. As Greg comes out, Alex's tongue works the tip. As Greg pushes back in, Alex relaxes his face and throat to take him all the way in. One hand gently cups and strokes Greg's balls, and the other rests on the swell of his belly.

And because he's in that position, when Greg suddenly thrusts his hardest and gives a deep cry, Alex can revel in the beautiful tautness throughout Greg's body.

Greg's essence pours hot down Alex's throat. Alex squeezes his eyes tight against a sense of awe that this is happening, that this moment is real.

"Oh, Alex..." Greg breathes with wonder. "Alex, oh god, come here and kiss me again."

Alex lays beside Greg, reveling in the heat emanating off of him, fingers trailing upward until they rest on Greg's shoulders. They brush their lips against each other, before hungrily kissing again.

Now Greg's hands are busy, one again behind Alex's head, running through his hair. The fingertips of the other hand run slowly up Alex's thigh, leaving shivery goosebumps in their wake. Then, they lay upon Alex's own hardness, and Alex gasps.

The dream had removed Alex's trousers for him, but had not removed his pants. At first, he thinks nothing of this. He can't think of this or of anything else, as Greg brushes his fingertips along Alex's tightly-robed cock.

The fingers begin teasing him every which way, tickling, stroking, scooping in slightly to lightly run past his balls, and soon Alex is desperate to free himself. He half-mewls, reaches down for his waistband and -

finds there isn't one. Somehow, in the way of dreams, the skin of his waist "naturally" transitions to his cotton pants, his cock trapped beneath.

Greg is still teasing and stroking him. Alex feels like he's going to explode. "Greg!" he gasps. "Greg, please! I can't! It's too much!"

Greg doesn't hear him, and doesn't seem to notice anything wrong with the cock's captivity. He curls his way downwards until he is face-to-face with it and softly runs his tongue down its thinly-clothed length. When he reaches the end, he gently mouths the tip...

The beautiful dreamscape trembles as Alex cries out - with burning need, incredible arousal, and absolute despair. He claws at the top of his pants for a waistband that isn't there, desperate to feel Greg's mouth fully on him. Greg continues his sweet teases without concern. Alex's cry becomes a shout, ringing out with anger and frustration. It banishes the light, the trees, and finally it banishes Greg....

__________

Alex's eyes fly open, and he bolts upright. His hands are still scrabbling at his waist. This time they find purchase.

He tears off his pants, and fucks his own hand so hard it nearly hurts. It only takes a few strokes for him to explode.

He collapses weakly back onto his pillow, breathing heavily. He is torn between awe at the beauty of the dream, and an anger so huge that it borders on rage. It wasn't real, any of it. He is back in his flat, alone. He is not with the lustful, enthusiastic Greg he needs to please so deeply...

In a fog, he stumbles to the bathroom and cleans himself off. He lays back down. He stares at his ceiling blankly, his mind emotionally spent.

The sun is peeking over the horizon before he falls into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Notes:

I was inspired by two things writing this. The first is I really am that obsessed with Greg's smile right before their kiss on the show. The second is that feeling when you are absolutely out of your mind for someone and can't do any of the dirty things running through your head, you can't "worship" them the way you desperately want to. I, uh, followed that theme through to its most usual end - denial. I hope disclosing that theme here at least gives it context.

I'm American (Dear World: I am so sorry), hopefully I caught all the small changes in nouns and whatnot. I actually prefer "rubbish" instead of "garbage," and "trousers" is an objectively great word. But I have to say, when you're used to "pants" meaning outerwear, it's awkward using it to mean something a bit sexier!

Just a silly observation I couldn't resist sharing.

Regardless, I hope I was able to do well by a community that has caused me to realize so much about myself.