#sorry i didnt get to the sex toys part of the prompt anon pls forgive

[haloud]

frame me up on your wall

prompt fill for the rnm kink meme! prompt is here.  rated E.

and here it is on ao3

Contains: emotional sex, Alex taking Michael apart with ruthless care, yknow, just normal everyday stuff around here

It’s never been a thing, really, that Michael stays hard after they’ve finished, could come again and again long after Alex has been exhausted and spent. Alex satisfies him, always, and that’s that. Sometimes Alex will order him to jack himself off one more time after they’ve come together and watch, tongue against his bottom lip, heat in his eyes. It isn’t a thing until Alex wants it to be, until he takes matters into his own hands.

It starts…

Well. It doesn’t start at any one place at any one time, so much as it builds from fumbles in the dark to aching, sweat-slicked arching together, to Alex moving and flexing his stomach, his hips, head tipped back as he rides Michael, using him for his own pleasure—but it’s that last time that Michael first sees the spark of it in Alex’s eye for what it is, when Alex comes, grinning and shuddering with his eyes fluttering shut, the working of his body pulling Michael along with him before he’s finished riding out the aftershocks. He tips over on his side to curl up into Michael’s chest, one hand scritching through his chest hair, the other drifting down to wrap gently around Michael where he’s still rock hard. Michael twitches away a bit on instinct at the oversensitivity, and Alex lets out a pleased little hum.

Michael’s laugh is breathy, and he turns his head to kiss the top of Alex’s and mutter into his hair, “I know a plotting noise when I hear one. How afraid should I be right now?”

Alex just laughs along with him and lifts his head up for a real kiss, and that’s how Michael knows the answer is very.

A few days pass—teasing days, days where Alex will rile him up with little touches, lingering, open-mouth kisses, then leave him wanting, whimpering and rolling his head against Alex’s shoulder.

“Why are you doing this,” he whines, headbutting him lightly.

“Just want to collect the best possible data,” Alex replies cheerfully, tugging his hair to force his head back and away, making him moan at the deep sting. “Call it scientific curiosity. You’re into that kind of thing, right?”

“You’re into cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Drama queen.”

By the third day of this, it takes nothing, nothing at all, to get Michael hard and aching, so it’s a profound, sweet relief when Alex slips straight into bed and climbs on top of him, letting Michael bear his whole body weight to kiss him.

And he kisses him. Pinned to the bed, Alex’s hand firm on his jaw, thumb on his vulnerable throat, Michael is possessed and owned and gasping for air he doesn’t really need, because everything he needs is Alex, and what Alex is ready to give him.

He can’t help himself, already hard, from hooking his leg around Alex’s waist, slipping down so his calf rests against the curve of Alex’s ass, rubbing himself against his hip and ready to come in his pants like a teenager. Alex laughs and bites his bottom lip, letting him go at it all sloppy and eager for pleasure, no matter what Alex has in store for him tonight.

“Go ahead, if you’re so eager to get started,” Alex says. He grips Michael’s ass firmly, grinding their bodies together, taking control of Michael’s clumsy rhythm. Given permission, Michael bucks and comes, but it’s not enough, not nearly, and he shudders in Alex’s arms at the twitching, ultra-sensitive aftershocks zipping across his nerves.

“Fuck,” he breathes, nosing against the hollow right behind Alex’s ear and inhaling as he tries to recover. Alex massages the back of his neck, giving him this moment, until he grabs the soft curls at the base of his skull and tugs him away again.

“Undress.”

Alex rolls off him, and Michael scrambles to obey, shucking off his pants; he’s barely kicked them off his ankles when Alex’s hands are on him again, pulling him into position, and he tries to stay as still and good as he can, wherever Alex puts him. He lets out a h-hah—when Alex wraps a hand loosely around the base of his cock, nudging his legs wide apart to lay between them.

“How long will it take before you beg me, I wonder. For relief, for mercy—either one, really.”

His grin is so beautiful, so fierce, Michael gulps and clenches his hands at his sides, not having permission to reach down and run his fingers through that soft, dark hair. Adrenaline spikes in his blood at the look in those eyes, and he cries out, helpless, when Alex ducks to lap at a streak of come left from before.

“I want to hear you beg,” he says, licking his lips, those dark, dark eyes locking onto Michael’s again, pinning him in place like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“Alex,” he replies, voice all cracked open and pleading already, and maybe he isn’t begging yet, not really, but he’ll do anything, be anything, Alex wants.

“That’s a good start.”

He takes the head of Michael’s cock into his mouth, just the tip, and rests it there on his tongue, so soft and wet and hot and Michael cries out but doesn’t, doesn’t thrust up into it. He’s so sensitive that every tiny fluctuation of Alex’s tongue sends him twisting and shuddering, and—

Alex sinks down, and he can’t help himself, can’t help but rock up into it, not thrusting but curling around that point of unbearable pleasure, knees rucking up to frame Alex’s head, toes curling helplessly in the air when Alex sucks hard, the pressure making him clench up, every muscle he has.

Then Alex is gone, leaving him cold and pulling the first “Please—” from his lips, already, because Alex told him to beg, and he wants, wants to be good for him.

“Just cleaning you up,” Alex teases, sitting up and gently easing Michael’s legs back down to the bed.

“Alex, please.”

“Hm. Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And then his mouth is back all liquid and hot and Michael lets out a cracked moan to the ceiling, back arching while his hips stay still on the bed right where Alex holds him. His second orgasm comes so fast on the heels of the first, still so, so sensitive, urged on by the expert working of Alex’s tongue on his shaft, the seal of his lips, the soft perfection of his mouth. Alex lets him come right down his throat, pulls off wiping his mouth and swallowing one more time, smug satisfaction in every line of his rubbed-red smile.

He crawls up Michael’s body to kiss him, grab a fistful of curls and direct him just the way he likes, and Michael holds himself all limp to follow orders. He tastes himself on top of Alex, and it makes him shudder under every single touch.

Then Alex is pulling away, kneeling up to fetch the bottle of lube on the bed beside them. The loss of his attention, even for a second, is a cold shock that has Michael reaching out for him until he comes back, hitches Michael’s thighs around his hips.

“Don’t worry, Michael,” Alex croons, “I’m still going to fuck you.” Cool and steady, his fingers pet across Michael’s hole, and Michael arches his hips up, not sure if he’s going toward or away from that teasing touch, and Alex laughs and keeps petting him, never actually sinking a finger inside.

“As soon as you’ve come one more time, then I’ll fuck you. Nice and slow when there’s nothing in your head except for me, my cock inside you, just this side of hurting. Does that sound good?”

All he’s capable of vocalizing is a strangled, whimpering sound, a desperate affirmation, an arch of his back to give Alex all the openness and space he needs to finish taking him apart. And Alex croons wordlessly in return, rewarding him by leaning over and laying sweet kisses across his back and shoulders. His finger sinks inside, and Michael shakes, clenches around it on reflex, grits his teeth on a loud, shuddery moan.

“You’re so hot. Gonna feel so good around me, hm? You always do.”

“H—hhhh—ahh, ‘lex—”

“That’s it. I want to hear you say my name, Michael.” He adds another finger, scissors them apart, stretching Michael’s hole.

“Alex!”

“Good boy.”

Tears bead on Michael’s lashes; he swallows down the lump in his throat and breathes out a shuddery gasp. The sound of a cap behind him—and Michael thinks Alex is adding more lube, hitches his hips up in anticipation, but then it’s Alex’s other hand walking wet fingers up the line of his spine, and Michael breathes in the electric chemical smell of acetone, and he’s already moaning by the time Alex’s fingers get to his mouth. The taste hits his tongue and burns all the way down his throat the way good whiskey does, and Michael takes Alex’s long, lovely fingers down to the knuckle, trying to stuff them in his throat, to take Alex any and every way he can get. He sucks them dry of acetone, until Alex pulls them away and brings them back coated in liquid again, and Michael swallows and swallows.

“That’s it,” Alex purrs. Then his fingers are gone, and Michael tries to breathe better so he doesn’t pass out, works his jaw from the missing of something to stretch it, that extra shade of fullness he can’t help but crave.

The next sound actually is more lube, and a third finger slides inside Michael’s ass, even though he’s so loose and pliant already.

“Please,” he moans.

“One more, Michael. You’re going to give me one more, because you’re good, so good for me—”

God, and then Alex is slicking up his cock, and then he’s working his way inside, and Michael should be spent, it should hurt and sting too bad for him to even get hard again, but he is, again, still, throbbing and aching as Alex strokes him until he bottoms out, and the pain feels so, so good.

Michael’s hands scrabble against the bed, desperate for something to hold onto, fisting the sheets until they spring free of the corners of the mattress, fisting in his own hair and pulling hard, biting his own palm to muffle the pathetic sounds, the grunts and mewls driven out of his throat with every thrust. It hurts, ripe and raw, it’s too, too much, lets and arms so weak he can’t get any leverage.

Everything he is is Alex’s, and Alex takes him. Takes him down and takes him apart. His face is wet with tears, a line of drool at the corner of his open mouth as he surrenders to it, fills his mouth with please, please, please, Alex, please.

“What do you want, Michael? What do you need?”

“F-fuck—” He gasps out as Alex eases into him, lets him fill his lungs up with air, digging pressure against his prostate and making his cock twitch, because he’s close again, somehow, knowing it’s gonna hurt just makes it better, raises goosebumps on every inch of his skin

“Yeah. You can’t even say it, can you? But I know. I know what you need.”

“Always, Alex—Alex—ahh, fuck!”

Alex takes his rhythm back, harder and faster, and wraps his hand around Michael’s cock to bring him along too. And he does have mercy, keeping his touch light but firm, not so much friction Michael tries to squirm away on instinct, but just enough to help him over that edge again, again, again, as many times as Alex wants—

And then Alex comes inside him with a long, sweet moan of his own, Michael’s answering whine high and thin, and Alex, he pulls away even though Michael tries to arch up, tighten up, to keep him in, not ready to be without the fullness and weight of him inside, anchoring him in his body.

Alex hushes him, soothes him by sliding two fingers back inside, not enough but enough to keep him from crying out again. His knuckle nudges Michael’s prostate again, at the same time his hand clenches down and works him more firmly, and that’s it, another orgasm is pulled out of him burning and bruised and sweet like a good, sore muscle, and his toes curl up, and his head goes back, and his eyes roll up in his head, and he loses a little time there, for just a second, to the wordless, pleased, proud rumble of Alex’s voice as he comes in to kiss him, steal the quick and fluttering breath from his lips.

“Oh, Michael,” he says against his mouth. “God, you’re incredible, you did everything I asked, you’re so, so good—"

And Michael believes him, and he floats there for a while, feeling as loose and giving as warm taffy, moving only with Alex’s gentle hands as he cleans them and the bed, not even flinching when he touches him where it’s sore and used and raw. The trickle of water on his skin is cool and sweet, and the world swims behind Michael’s half-closed eyes until the washcloth goes away and takes Alex with it, then the bed dips again and Alex is back, sliding his arm beneath Michael’s heavy head, pulling him into his body.

“Look at you,” Alex murmurs, his thumb smoothing over Michael’s eyebrow and down to rest against his cheek. And Michael smiles to dimple just beneath that touch.

“’M a mess.”

“You’re perfect.”

And there’s a raw tenderness in his voice that makes Michael stir, open his eyes, and look up into his face.

“I’ve had everything of you, and it still isn’t enough,” Alex says, in almost a whisper.

“Doesn’t have to be. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I could have you like this every day for the rest of our lives, and I think I’d still want more. It scares me, wanting anything that much.”

His hand skims down Michael’s side, warm against skin that’s cooled off the exertion flush, and Michael lowers his own hand to cover it, press it against his bare stomach.

“I’m yours,” he says, all metaphors deserted in the wake of the peaceful haze Alex has left inside his mind.

Alex bends to kiss his forehead, tugs him so much closer like he’s trying to fuse them together, and Michael closes his eyes, slips a leg between Alex’s thighs, and lets the feeling of their bodies so close carry him away.