Chapter Text
It’s not that Greg doesn’t want to watch Alex playing football with his friends to raise money for charity. The thought of watching Alex stretching and running in the glorious sunshine, sweat glistening on his brow and pooling in the small of his back, makes him have to try and think of something deathly dull to distract him. And yet however much he wants to watch Alex up close and personal, to be able to smell the exertion rolling off him in waves as Alex slings a possessive arm around him, laughing as Greg tries to squirm away from his damp skin, at the end of the day what he wants is a secondary consideration to what Alex needs. Greg knows that if he attends, then the fact that he’s there is all people will talk about and Alex deserves the day to be all about him. Greg could even offer to play the stupid game if he really wanted to but the thought of being unable to move for days afterwards, of seeing videos of his lumbering form on the internet for forever more, well that’s not a price that his psyche can afford, not even for Alex. Greg can’t help thinking that it’s adorable the way that Alex talks about the day, surrounded by people who love him, being worshipped where he belongs and Greg wishes that despite all of the problems that he could be there with him.
Greg loves Alex, has loved him for way longer than he has been prepared to admit, even to himself. Of course he loves him as a friend but that’s not all because Greg doesn’t think of any of his other friends on their knees at his feet, for the most part, and yet he does think about Alex looking up at him with those luminous blue eyes, making him feel big and powerful and like he deserves the world, in fact he thinks about it more than he cares to admit. Greg doesn’t know exactly how Alex feels about him, not for certain, and despite meaning to broach the subject on more occasions than he can count, Greg has always chickened out at the last minute, acknowledging that Alex is still married no matter how he might feel about Greg and so it’s immaterial in any case.
In the past Greg has consoled himself with the fact that even though he can’t attend the football event, the studio tapings of Taskmaster will inevitably land right around that time and so he can always see Alex at the studio as compensation for the loss of time watching him be an athletic middle-aged dad surrounded by screaming fans.
“Are you looking forward to your charity football thing? Russell was telling me he’s going to try to be there.”
Greg can hear the warmth in Alex’s voice when he answers and it makes him smile.
“Yes, it’s always a great day, although I do have a habit of injuring myself.”
Chuckling pre-emptively, Greg retorts, “well that’s because you’re an old man.”
Alex inhales and then giggles, saying, “fuck off, you can talk.”
“I know better than to fling myself around a football field like I’m still 20 years old.”
Alex hums in contemplation. “Well, you may be right but it’s a good time.” Alex pauses and Greg can hear a catch in his voice as he says, “I wish you could be there.”
“Yeah me too, lovely boy.” Greg allows the warmth to bleed out into the words.
“You’d spend all day taking pictures and talking to fans and they’re lovely but I know you find it really difficult to keep that kind of veneer in place for that long.”
“I miss you,” Greg blurts without meaning to, screwing his eyes closed and thankful that Alex can’t see him.
“I miss you too,” Alex responds, open and soft and clearly full of honesty.
They make small talk for another few minutes and then Greg says he has to go and hangs up the phone, the pressure in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. Despite his certainty that he really shouldn’t attend Alex’s day, Greg can’t stop thinking about seeing him. It’s really unwelcome and keeps him awake at night. It’s one thing to have a mildly inconvenient crush on your boss and friend, and it’s entirely another to pine like this. Greg cannot pretend that he hasn’t crossed into pining now, it really is pathetic.
Greg manages to get the information from Alex that the day after the football, he’ll be at home, resting and relaxing and trying to recover from all the physical activity and probably the alcohol from the day before. With several changes of heart, Greg decides that he’s going to drive to Chesham on the Sunday, surprising Alex and maybe taking him out for Sunday lunch or something in his countryside idyll.
Stealing himself for the tornado of children and dog, Greg spends the drive over in silence, listening to the sound of the tyres on the road surface and trying to calm down his thudding heart. Pulling into Alex’s substantial driveway, Greg unfolds himself from the car and rings the doorbell. It takes a very long time for anything to happen, other than Loky barking somewhere in the house. Eventually, just when Greg has started to worry that Alex might have gone out after all, the door is pulled open and Alex’s tired face lights up.
“Oh my god, you came to Chesham,” Alex exclaims, pulling the door open wide and beckoning Greg inside.
“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t killed yourself with all that exercise yesterday.”
Alex looks sheepish, limping down the corridor and ushering Greg into the front room.
“You’ve injured yourself, haven’t you? Silly boy.”
“I’ll get you a drink,” Alex says, turning to head to the kitchen with a wince.
Greg gets up from the large sofa he has just sunk himself into, struggling to escape the prison of the foam architecture with a grunt until he eventually manages it and overtakes Alex.
“I’ll do it. Sit down.”
“Ooooh I don’t think you’ve ever waited on me before,” Alex says softly, making his way back to the softness of the sofa and slumping down with a grimace.
Greg makes them both a cup of tea, opening every cupboard in order to find everything he needs, smiling at the transparent toaster that Alex had taken from his flat like the rabid little hoarder of tat he is. Moving back through to the front room carefully, carrying two full mugs, Greg hands Alex his mug and sits down gently next to him.
“Where are Rachel and the kids?”
“They’ve gone to visit family for the day. They’ll be back tomorrow. I couldn’t manage to go with them which caused Rachel to make that face at me that I’ve spent our whole marriage trying to avoid.” Alex exhales a huffing sort of noise of distress, taking a sip of his drink and then belatedly blowing across the surface.
“I can go if you want to be alone,” Greg says, voice quiet and wary.
“No!” Alex looks surprised at the volume of his voice, swallowing and continuing at a lower level, “no, it’s lovely to see you. I wished you were there yesterday.”
“You know if there was anyway I could come without detracting from you and your day then I would.” Greg puts his hand over Alex’s knee and gives him a little squeeze until Alex covers Greg’s hand with his own and holds him there.
Eventually Alex pulls his hand away and allows Greg to end the touch.
“Are you in pain?” Greg asks, knowing what the answer is but waiting to see if Alex will admit it.
“Yes. I’ve taken some painkillers but they’re not really helping. I could do with a massage.” Alex laughs and Greg watches as Alex’s gaze flits to Greg’s hands and then back to his face.
“Come on then,” Greg says, putting the mug down, taking Alex’s cup from his hand and then pulling him up off of the sofa.
“Greg… what are you doing?” Alex asks although the answer is obvious.
“I’m going to give you a massage. Do you have a spare room we could use?”
Alex appears torn, alternating between looking into Greg’s face and glancing at the door they have to go through to get to the rest of the house. “Is this a good idea?” Alex whispers softly.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, Alex. I just want to make you feel better.”
Making a decision, Alex nods and grabs Greg’s hand, pulling him through the door and looking back at him as they get to the stairs. Greg has to help Alex to hobble up them, surer now that he’ll be able to touch Alex to make him feel better and not for any other reason as he sees the pain over his face. They get to the spare room and Alex shuffles off to get some towels and some sort of oil, placing them reverently on the bed and reaching for the hem of his shirt. Stripping down to only his underwear, Alex carefully climbs on to the bed and lays flat on his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms and waiting patiently for Greg to touch him.
Greg potters around the room, arranging the items on the bedside table just so as he ponders how to come at this challenge, finally settling on straight through and lowering himself until he’s straddling Alex’s upper thighs, knees either side of his hips. Greg reaches for the oil and pretends not to hear Alex’s shaky intake of breath as he settles his weight. Coating his hands and then allowing a few drops to hit Alex’s upper back, Greg warms his hands by rubbing them together and then touches Alex’s shoulders with firm fingers. The noise Alex makes shoots straight to Greg’s dick, making him gasp as he tries to get a hold of himself and repeatedly rubs at Alex’s skin until his fingers get warm from the friction.
“Harder,” Alex begs, completely free of embarrassment at how it sounds when Greg is moving his hands hypnotically over Alex’s body.
“Is it okay?” Greg asks tentatively, accepting the moan he gets in return as a positive response.
After about 15 minutes of Greg digging his fingers into Alex’s tense back muscles, Greg notices that Alex is gently rocking his hips into the bed, as though he hasn’t noticed he’s doing it. Greg is similarly affected but has so far managed to keep the evidence away from Alex’s body.
“Do you want me to do your legs?”
“Yes,” Alex hisses, the s has a sibilance that makes him sound drunk, an adorable lisp that makes Greg’s stomach flip.
Greg shuffles down Alex’s body and reaches for more oil, pushing his fingertips into the meat of Alex’s thighs, daring to push them up between his legs until Alex tries to spread his legs for more, Greg’s bulk halting the aborted movement. The crease underneath Alex’s butt cheek gets some extra attention, Greg’s fingers sliding up the leg of Alex’s underwear.
“Do you want me to do the front?”
Alex clears his throat, sounding nervous before he’s even formed any words. “I-I’m hard.”
“Given the way you were humping the mattress, I’d kind of gathered that.”
Alex chuckles awkwardly, turning over as Greg lifts his weight from Alex and patently ignoring his eyes as he looks anywhere but Greg’s face.
“I probably shouldn’t sit on your groin…” Greg says, almost as though he’s talking to himself
Greg tries to avoid looking at Alex’s cock but he can only look elsewhere for so long and eventually his eyes wander that way. Alex is wearing black boxer briefs that are distended at the front. He’s so hard that the shiny head of his cock is peeking out of the waistband of his underwear and Greg’s fingers flex from the urge to curl them round Alex’s shaft and stroke him boneless.
Shuffling awkwardly to the side, Greg strokes slippery hands over Alex’s chest, unable to stop himself from catching Alex’s erect nipples with his thumbnail and making Alex moan under his breath. The hair on Alex’s chest darkens with the oil and Greg trails his fingers down Alex’s body, poking his belly button until Alex snorts a laugh, lightening the tension in the room.
“Do you want to take your shirt off?” Alex whispers, presumably feeling exposed while Greg is fully dressed apart from his shoes and socks.
“That isn’t a good idea,” Greg says truthfully, a warning note in his voice.
“Please.”
“Fuck,” Greg swears, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it roughly over his head until his hair sticks up.
Alex spreads his thighs apart and nods at the space he’s created, looking at Greg like he’s something to be craved. Greg kneels between Alex’s legs and massages his thighs, trying not to look at Alex’s erection.
The truth is that Greg is past the point of stopping unless Alex wants him to. The fact that they’re semi-naked and they’re doing this in the house that Alex shares with his wife and children is rammed to the back of Greg’s mind, pushed so far down that Greg couldn’t see it with a telescope. Alex is breathing heavily, his chest heaving and his stomach quivering under Greg’s fingers.
“Greg,” Alex moans, grabbing at Greg’s hand and putting it deliberately over Alex’s hard-on, pushing up with his hips against Greg’s palm.
“We shouldn’t… Alex we shouldn’t be doing this, you’re going to hate me tomorrow.”
“I could never hate you,” Alex says softly, groaning as Greg tightens his grip.
With a deep inhale, Greg gets off the bed and strips his jeans off, ripping his underwear down and throwing them on top of his crumpled jeans to lay on the floor of the guest bedroom of Alex’s house. When Greg looks back at Alex he’s shimmied his own underwear down off his hips and is staring at Greg with dilated pupils and hooded eyes. Greg slides on top of Alex, their erections pushing against each other as Alex looks up into his eyes and wraps his arms around Greg’s shoulders.
“Please,” Alex whispers, grinding up against Greg’s body with a stuttering little push of his hips.
Greg uses his knees to raise himself slightly off of Alex and give him extra leverage to slide their slippery cocks together. They don’t speak, Alex scratches his fingertips through Greg’s hair, kissing at his throat with a hesitance that borders on shy.
“Oh fuck… oh god,” Greg pants, feeling the head of his cock bump up against Alex’s, the slide making his stomach lurch.
Just when Greg thinks they’re going to have this entire encounter without knowing what the other tastes like, Greg looks down at precisely the moment Alex looks up and suddenly they’re kissing; messy and deep and intense, panting into each other’s mouth as they roll headlong towards orgasm. Alex whimpers, his stomach quivering and his arms moving down Greg’s body to clutch at his arse, yanking him close, legs wrapped around Greg’s thighs to try to get leverage that way. The whole thing is uncoordinated and erratic and so perfect Greg has to stave off tears.
“Can you come like this?” Alex whispers, goosebumps appearing over his skin.
“I don’t know,” Greg replies, honestly.
The oil is starting to evaporate, to be replaced by sweat as they rut against each other. Greg can feel Alex’s thighs squeezing him tightly, muscles taut and hard, the massage seeming like it was a hundred years ago. With a bite to his own lip that urges a groan from Greg’s throat, Alex strokes long, lovely fingers, between Greg’s cheeks, whisper-soft pressure across his hole as Alex pushes one finger, just barely breaching Greg’s body. Greg has no time to consider what it means before his orgasm crashes over him, pulsing between their bodies over and over until he’s spent and Alex has a much slippier surface to rut against.
“Holy fuck,” Alex murmurs, grabbing at Greg’s arse roughly and grinding his cock through the mess as hard as he can.
Greg doesn’t know if his orgasm hastens Alex’s but it’s not much longer until Alex pulses hot and wet and messy between them, his body slumping limp and spent as Greg rolls off of him.
The room feels hot and muggy and smells of cum and massage oil. Neither man says anything, the atmosphere in the room ticking like the cooling metal of a car when you turn the ignition off.
“Do you want to shower?” Alex asks, tone curiously formal considering what they’re just done together.
“Yes. When I can make my body do what I tell it to,” Greg answers with a wry smile.
“I’ll go then if that’s okay.”
“It’s your house, Alex.”
Alex doesn’t answer but gets up and pads out of the room, not picking up any of his clothes on the way. Greg hears the sound of water running and closes his eyes, trying to fight the rising tide of panic starting to cascade through him. Before Greg can really start to spiral, Alex comes back with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I’ve left a towel out for you.”
Getting up with a groan, Greg sees Alex smirking at his old man noises from the corner of his eye, feeling the tension that has been building dissipate slightly at the familiar humour between them. Greg goes to shower in the damp room, using Alex’s showergel and inhaling deeply as he rubs it into his skin. Turning the water off, Greg steps out and wraps the towel around him, holding back for a few minutes before he strides into the guestroom where Alex is fully dressed and waiting for him.
They have an awkward few minutes in silence as Greg dries himself off and gets dressed, standing looking at Alex as the other man does everything to avoid his gaze, shame rolling off him in waves. When he’s dressed Greg reaches out and pulls Alex close, tucking him against Greg’s body and feeling Alex tighten his arms around him, burying his face against Greg’s chest.
“It was both of us,” Greg mutters into the room above Alex’s head.
“I’m the married one,” Alex replies, muffled against Greg’s t-shirt.
“I’m sorry.”
Pulling apart from each other, Greg follows Alex out of the room, watching him walk back down the stairs with a lighter gait no matter how heavily the guilt is weighing on him.
“I’m going to go,” Greg says softly, not expecting Alex to say anything to stop him.
Alex looks up with tears shining in his eyes and Greg can’t help but pull him back into his arms, inhaling deeply at his clean smell just in case it’s all he gets. Turning Alex’s face up with a hand to his chin, Greg kisses Alex softly on the mouth and Alex offers no resistance.
“It’ll be okay,” Greg promises, kissing at Alex’s cheek before pulling away and walking to the front door.
“Bye,” Alex says softly as Greg leaves, getting back into his car.
Greg closes the car door with a decisive sounding thunk and wonders if he’s just fucked up both of their lives. Driving away with the sound of tyres over gravel loud in his ears, Greg turns the radio on and tries to tell himself that it was worth it.