#alex had to go through and escape room interview but kyle and liz are always just popping in and out and leaving their alien science

[lovecolibri]

@ashesandhalefire with the facts again!

in my ideal world the caulfield and project shepherd stuff were dragged out far longer (for seasons) and jones would be the final season’s villain

[foramomentonly]

Nail In My Coffin, Part Three

Part One    Part Two

Summary: Alex and Kyle are fashion designers on a Next In Fashion style reality show. Michael is their model. Dom/sub elements. Prompt courtesy of @signoraviolettavalery .

Author’s Note: This comes after Parts One and Two chronologically, but I will most likely include later parts that occur before this one.

The Spanish was done to the best of my limited abilities. If it’s wrong or straight up gibberish, I’d love to be corrected.

Read on AO3

Alex has been expecting this, is honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. 

They’ve used Michael as their model the past three challenges and coasted through each one. They didn’t win streetwear—and weren’t expecting to—but they weren’t up for elimination and they came close to taking the past two challenges. And while Alex isn’t humble enough to think it’s all Michael selling their designs on the runway with his languid stride and truly indecent head tilt, it’s clear he’s an asset, and he’s becoming a highly-coveted commodity in the workroom. Alex breathed these exact sentiments into his ear just the other afternoon, pressing Michael against the wall of the studio bathroom with his whole body, one hand fisting both their cocks and the other gripping Michael’s chin, two fingers stuffed in his mouth to keep him quiet. Michael came so hard at the praise and the wicked twist of Alex’s wrist that he bit down hard enough to break the skin of Alex’s fingers, and Alex is only lucky it’s so common for designers to have multiple bandaged digits. 

So he’s isn’t shocked at all when the judges gather them together, models and designers alike, and announce that they’re switching things up, and each team will choose a new model.

What he isn’t prepared for is Michael’s reaction. He’s picked up quickly by a team of sisters who create their own graphic prints and patterns for all their fabrics. Alex tries to stay attune to him throughout the week—they’re only a few work stations away—but he has his own project to focus on and he’s been designing with Michael’s body in mind—not to mention under his hands—for so long that the transition is jarring. He hears little bits of gossip, mostly through Kyle, though, and it’s not good. There are ridiculous rumors about sabotage, that Michael has agreed to phone it in with other teams to boost Alex and Kyle’s chances in exchange for regular work once the show wraps. And then there are the jokes about Michael preferring Alex’s “firm hand” that leave Alex livid and Kyle looking uncomfortable. It doesn’t help that Michael and Rosa, the visionary behind the sisters’ dynamic prints, are clashing. He’s sullen and moody, and he doesn’t respond well to Rosa’s dry humor and abstract direction. 

A day before the runway shoot, during their initial fittings, Alex and Kyle are discussing the hem of a skirt with their new model Maria when there is a frustrated growl from their left, followed by a loud rip.

“¡Que chingados estás haciendo!” Rosa shouts, and Michael glares at her. 

The seam on the right sleeve of the shirt he’s wearing is torn, and Michael is looking from Rosa to the loose fabric hanging off his shoulder and back again. He gestures to the sleeve and spits something indiscernible back at her, and Rosa throws up her hands. Her sister Liz waves her off and puts a hand on Michael’s arm, and he seems to soften just a bit, but his eyes flit towards Alex and back again restlessly. Alex forces himself to turn back to his own work.

Then there’s Michael’s runway performance. He doesn’t trip or miss a mark—he’s a professional, after all—but his walk is listless and his expression under the bright, colorful make-up he’s wearing is severe, off-putting. In the designer’s lounge, Rosa is fuming, hissing at Liz in rapid-fire Spanish Alex couldn’t hope to follow, but based on the way Kyle winces, she’s not being kind. At the judge’s panel they receive warm, if muted praise for their design, and Alex credits Rosa for not publicly calling out Michael’s underwhelming display. But even the judges notice, and one asks Michael kindly if he’s feeling all right.

“Just having an off week,” he mumbles, and the judges commiserate before moving on. 

Alex watches Michael change quickly and escape out of the studio minutes after his team's post-runway interview is through, and he decides to take a necessary risk. He pulls out his phone while Maria slips behind their privacy partition and sends Michael a text.

My room at 10:30.

Michael responds instantly.

You got it, Captain.

***

Michael begins to babble the second the door to Alex’s room safely shuts behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says miserably. “I fucked up, I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I just hated having someone else’s hands on me and I-”

“On your knees,” Alex interrupts him.

Michael blinks and begins to lower himself, but there’s a flash of panic in his eyes that has Alex stepping forward to stop him, the hand not on his crutch gripping his bicep gently.

“Wait,” Alex says, “wait. I messed up. I didn’t check in with you first. I’m sorry.” 

Michael straightens and faces him.

“I know that you had a tough week,” Alex says, “and I want to give you what you need right now. But this isn’t a punishment. I need you to know that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Alex pauses, searching Michael’s eyes for understanding. He looks worn down and a little hesitant, but as Alex’s words sink in his eyes gleam a little brighter.

“I want to give you what you need, sweetheart,” Alex says, and Michael’s cheeks flush, “but I need you to tell me exactly what that is so I don’t mess up and make things worse like I almost did just now.”

Michael pauses, looking uncertain.

“Take your time,” Alex soothes.

“I want to be good for you,” Michael whispers, “I just want to show you I can be good.”

“You are good for me,” Alex assures him, “you always are. What do you want tonight?”

Michael shuts his eyes and breathes deep.

“I want to feel like I’m yours again,” he whines softly. “I hated this week, I hated feeling like I didn’t belong to you anymore.”

His eyes open and they’re dark and hazy. Alex feels his cock fill at the sight of his needy gaze.

“On your knees,” he breathes, gentler this time, and Michael hits the floor in front of him.

Alex takes a step back and lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, laying his crutch on the floor beside him. He’d debated leaving his prosthetic on before Michael arrived, not wanting to limit himself or what he could give, but it had been a long day on his feet and his leg was already stiff, hip aching. He was settling into the idea of exposing the more vulnerable parts of his identity, of his life to someone other than Kyle, but this is the first time he’ll be naked in this way during a scene. It feels like a turning point.

Alex spreads his legs wide and curls a finger at Michael.

“Come here.”

Michael moves unsteadily on his knees until he’s kneeling between Alex’s legs. He sits back on his heels and rests his hands on the top of his thighs, looking up at Alex eagerly. Alex chuckles.

“Look at you,” he coos, “so perfect on your knees for me.”

He reaches out and cups Michael’s face gently in his hands, guiding him up and pulling him close. Alex holds him there for just a moment, noses brushing, Michael’s warm breath on his cheek. Michael whimpers softly and something in Alex breaks wide open. He crashes forward, pulling Michael into a kiss that’s all tongue and wet heat. His hands slide into Michael’s curls and tug lightly, biting down on Michael’s bottom lip when he moans into Alex’s mouth. Michael’s hands slide up his thighs, squeezing and kneading his aching muscles. Alex tilts his head back and groans, letting Michael suck wet kisses up the column of his neck. Hands sliding down to Michael’s shoulders, Alex pushes him gently back until he’s settled again on his heels. Alex takes a moment to refocus, watching Michael succumb to the comfort of Alex’s control. He’s still and whining softly, pupils blown and cock a hard line against his thigh, a dark spot staining his jeans where he’s leaking precum. He looks gorgeous, already wrecked, and Alex decides to play with him.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, sweetheart,” he purrs, and Michael sinks further into his focused haze. “Think about you all the time. Fantasize about you. Your long legs and that stupid curl that’s always in your eyes.”

Alex watches Michael watching him, waits until he can catch his heated gaze before continuing.

“Your mouth,” he breathes, spreading his legs wider and squeezing his aching cock through his sweatpants, holding Michael’s gaze throughout. “You’re so good with that gorgeous mouth, baby, God.” 

Alex throws his head back as he snakes his hand into his pants, stroking himself slowly, deliberately. He hears Michael shift and whine, but ignores him, his breath catching as he rolls the head of his cock between his fingers.

“Dream about it,” he pants, leaning back on one elbow to give Michael a view of the long line of his torso. He’s already shirtless and he knows the hard muscles of his abdomen make Michael’s mouth water. “Dream about you on your knees, sucking me under the table while I work. I wake up so hard for you, Michael.”

“Alex,” Michael pleads, and Alex tilts his head forward to find Michael up on his knees again, practically drooling, eyes wide and locked on where Alex is stroking himself inside his sweats. 

Alex smirks, looks down at himself casually.

“Did you want to help, sweetheart?” he asks innocently, and Michael nods eagerly, still focused on the movement of Alex’s hand. The waistband of his sweats snaps against his stomach as Alex pulls out his hand and leans back on both elbows across the bed, spreading himself open for Michael.

“Use your words,” he teases, “and look at me.”

Michael tears his eyes away from Alex’s body and meets his gaze, saying, “Please let me blow you, Captain.”

Alex makes a sweeping motion with his hand, a silent go ahead, and Michael leans forward, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Alex’s sweats and dragging them down when Alex raises his hips. He hovers over Alex’s lap and grips his cock at the base, licking his lips. His tongue sneaks out for a taste of the liquid welling at the tip and he groans, sinking down until his lips meet his own fingers in one sudden movement. Alex’s toes curl as his whole universe is reduced to the wet heat of Michael’s mouth enveloping him. Michael draws his lips back up slowly, his tongue tracing the thick vein on Alex’s shaft and curling around the head.

“Dream about this, too,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive head of Alex’s cock and sending shivers up his spine. Michael takes a deep, trembling breath and takes Alex’s wrist, guiding it to the back of his neck as he sinks down again onto his cock. Alex squeezes his neck lightly, hissing as Michael begins to work him over with his mouth and hand, sucking and twisting in a steady rhythm. From his position on his elbow Alex has a glorious view of Michael’s red mouth swallowing his cock over and over.

“God, your mouth,” he moans almost unconsciously, moving his hand from Michael’s neck to his jaw, feeling it work around him and tracing the corner of Michael’s mouth with his thumb. Michael pulls his hand away and slides his mouth lower still, taking Alex’s cock into the back of his throat. He holds himself there and groans, sending vibrations shooting up Alex’s cock and making him curl in on himself, his hands flying to Michael’s head to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck,” he cries, working his hips in shallow pumps. But it’s too much and he feels Michael choke around him. He uses his grip in Michael’s hair to pull him off.

“Yellow,” Michael rasps before Alex can even ask, resting his cheek against Alex’s thigh and breathing unevenly. “I just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” Alex says, stroking his sweaty hair away from his face. “You can finish me off with your hand, if you want.”

Michael swallows and wraps his fingers around Alex’s shaft, squeezing. 

“Will you still come in my mouth?” he asks, and Alex groans.

“Jesus. Course I will, sweetheart.”

Alex isn’t going to last, between the scratch of Michael’s voice, his filthy request, and the way he’s squeezing the head of Alex’s cock with every pass. Alex leans back as Michael rises up to curl over his lap, stroking faster over his length as Alex’s moans and works his hips.

“Gonna come,” Alex warns, dropping his head back. He feels Michael wrap his lips around the head of his cock, sucking hard, and Alex cries out as he shoots down Michael’s throat and across his lips when he pulls off Alex’s cock, still working him over with insistent fingers. 

Alex is still breathing heavy, but he sits up and cups Michael’s jaw, watches him lazily licking Alex’s cum off his lips and hand.

“Do you want-” Alex starts, but Michael shakes his head, looking shamelessly down his own body. Alex follows his gaze and huffs a laugh. Michael pulls his hand out of his open pants, sticky with his own release.

“Oops,” he says smugly, and Alex raises an eyebrow at him.

“Do you want to be punished?”

Michael grins lazily and shrugs. 

“Another time I could be into it.”

Alex smiles softly at him, shaking his head. 

“Go to the bathroom and bring me a wet towel,” he says. Michael uses Alex’s thighs for leverage as he stands, stealing a kiss when he’s at eye level.

When he comes back, Alex has his pants on and Michael tilts his head in confusion. Alex doesn’t explain, just holds out his hand. Michael hands him the towel.

“Good boy. Now, strip.”

When Michael is completely naked Alex beckons him closer.

“Lean down,” he says, and when Michael bends to his level Alex catches his face in his hands and wipes the warm, wet cloth over his mouth and cheek, cleaning up his mess. Alex meets his eyes, gaze warm and steady, and Michael’s face breaks open, happy and dazed. Alex takes each of Michael’s hands in his and works the towel over them, then instructs him to stand as he gently wipes Michael’s stomach and groin, folding the towel over to a clean section before he passes it over his soft cock. When he’s through, he tosses the towel aside and points to the dresser behind Michael.

“Bring those to me.”

Michael hands Alex the worn tee shirt and sweatpants folded neatly on the top of the dresser. Alex shakes out the sweats—they aren’t brand new, but they’re new enough that he hasn’t cut and tied off the leg yet.

“I want to dress you,” he says, looking away as a rush of shame and uncertainty passes over him, “but I can’t do that standing. Will you-”

He feels Michael’s hands on his shoulders and he looks up. Michael stands before him, bracing himself on Alex with one leg raised in the air, bent at a 90-degree angle. Alex fumbles for a moment, but slides the sweats on one leg at a time this way, pulling them up Michael’s hips slowly. Michael squats so Alex can tug the shirt over his head, and Michael’s fingers linger on the faded Air Force emblem on the chest. 

“How do you feel?” Alex asks softly.

“Warm, safe,” Michael answers honestly. “Owned.”

Alex pulls him in close, kissing him slowly and drawing out a soft whimper when he sucks lightly on Michael’s bottom lip.

“Keep them,” Alex breathes, clasping Michael’s hand over the seal on his chest. “Wear them when you feel like you did this week. I don’t care who notices.”

He meets Michael’s amber eyes and strokes his jaw, soothing Michael’s hesitation.

“I take care of what’s mine.”