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It's not the first time they have been intimate. And it's certainly not the first time that this has occurred.
See, as much as Nigel would love to think that he's perfect in every way, it's clear that wasn't quite true. Something in his head doesn’t agree. Clearly, his twisted psyche not only applied to his everyday life, but also his sex life.
At first, neither boy could figure out the issue. Nigel had never struggled before. Especially not during intimacy. Slowly pieces begin to click. It was slow, like the realisation was being dripped into Alex's mind like wax dripping off a candle. Usually they were harsh, biting, scratching, degrading each other. Working off each other's anger. Yet whenever Alex would change the pace, going gentler, slower, softening his touches and even uttering slight praises. Nigel would struggle. The fire in his eyes the same, his body just as pent up. But no show off it.
Alex revelled in it. Knowing that Nigel would struggle to get it up all because it was too normal; all because he wasn't being degraded or hurt. It fuelled Alex knowing that despite his complaints, Nigel was under his control for these small moments.
Today was one of those days.
Nigel had been biting at his heels all day; snark sneers, cocky comments and getting into Alex's space one too many times. Like a bad mannered puppy. Razor sharp teeth and claws ready to swipe and slash at the first sight of bare flesh, drawing blood when least expected. The piercing voice that rings inside your head every time he speaks, leaving you with a distant throbbing every time you remember it. Giving you a happy look when it's told off, as if it's exactly what it was after, a reaction.
Said boy was thrilled when he and Alex were finally alone, at last, in the four walls of their dorm. He practically pounced onto Alex. Pushing him harshly into the mattress below him (Alex's own mattress), hands rising to claw through his clothes. It was desperate. Just like an misbehaving pup.
"Nigel, fuck off." Alex grunts, as his blazer dumped onto the floor, Nigel's pale hands almost ripping the buttons of his shirt in his haste. It should have been nice to be wanted this way, this desperately. Part of his mind did enjoy it. If only he knew how to feel about the person currently wanting him. Anyone else, and Alex would have given in to the insistent hands with ease. But no. This was Nigel, it was the sick twisted version of a man that wanted him. His own hands on Nigel's hips, pushing him away from him only slightly. A pathetic excuse for the way he imagined it in his head. He wanted to shove Nigel off him so harshly that he landed on the wooden floor. So that he could watch the boys panic look as he realised he had no control of Alex. To hear the wind be knocked from his chest, to hear the wheezing of his breath as he tried to recover. To watch him struggle even momentarily.
The response was a huff, of annoyance or sass, Alex couldn't tell. His hands never faltering as they push the shirt open. Freezing hands landing on the heated flesh of his chest, causing him to suck in a sharp breath, his body sending a shiver down his spine. Nigel's face millimetres from his own. "I know you want this." The tone screamed 'come on, you know I'm right.' His hips moving to close the gap Alex had half heartedly created between their bodies. Front pressing to front. "Unless you've got a knife in your pocket." His gaze never faltered, the idea probably fuelled him more.
Gritting his teeth, Alex responds. "You're sick. Sick bastard." A hand moves from his hip, grabbing a fist full of hair. And compared to what he could have done, he gently tugged the hair, rather than try to rip it from its root that is.
As expected, Nigel's eyes fluttered slightly, that gleam ever present, he was getting what he wanted after all. His hips slightly grind downwards. He knew he just had to push a bit further and his Jack would give him exactly what he craves. "Me sick?" He huffs out a laugh through his nose. "You're the one who fucked a corpse."
Anger boiled immediately; nausea twisting in his stomach as he breathes harshly through his nose, clenching his jaw. Though Nigel hadn't said her name, Alex knew exactly who he was on about. The mention of Susan was a strict subject. Alex couldn't handle her being brought up, yet Nigel took pleasure in the reaction he could bring from him. His face screamed that he was the cat who got the cream.
Before he even had a chance to process what he was doing, Alex flipped them around on the single bed, practice coming in handy. Nigel's back now the one hitting the mattress with a dull thud, Alex's hand pressing him down via his still clothed chest. The other supporting his weight as he hovered over him. Now straddling Nigel, he took a breath, sounding more like a hiss through his clenched teeth. Glaring at the smug man below.
"Don't." It wasn't what he wanted to say. Really, he wanted to scream at the man below. How dare he bring her up? Him. The one who was responsible for her death. How dare he assume? Alex never touched her. He would never. Yet none of that came out.
Not quiet satisfied, Nigel smiled, thrilled by the mere glimpse of anger. His Jack was beautiful when angry. When he let go. When he was what he was meant to be. A reckless man. It made heat flare in Nigel's gut. He tilts his head, almost mockingly. "Don't? Don't tell you how you looked at her? Laying there on the slab. Her body in perfect condition, perfect for you to take her-"
"-Nigel." His tone sharp, a warning that fell on deaf ears.
"-how she felt under your hands, how she probably took you like it was all she was made for-" that's all it took. Alex's fist swung, connecting to the side of Nigel's face before he had even registered he was moving. The anger didn't die down, if anything is practically sung under his skin, weaving itself into every tendon of his body. His hand moved from keeping Nigel pinned by his chest to his shirt collar, hauling him upwards. Dragging him so he was half sitting. His hand scrambling to support himself. His mouth bleeding where his lip hand been split. His breathing ragged matching Alex's. His pupils shining, the darkness consuming the blue of his eyes.
In a haze, Alex worked them both around, until they were how he wanted them. His mind subconsciously arranges them into a position. In a matter of minutes. Nigel landed back beneath Alex. Clothes stripped. Blood smeared ever so slightly across the swollen flesh of his lips. Eyes dark. Breathing ragged. With his hands tied together above his head with Alex's tie. He looked pathetic.
In the reflection of Nigel's gaze, Alex could see he was no better. His lips bitten and flushed from the harsh make out sessions. Slight nail marks along his chest from Nigel digging his finger nails in, hence the tie. Looking down on the other man, with a mixture of furry and arousal. Both fuelling the other, creating an endless loop.
One hand keeps Nigel's hands above his head, the other going between them to Nigel's groin. Grasping him with a harsh grip. Enough that any other sane person would have pulled away. But instead, Nigel bucked into it. Despite Alex proceeding to twist his hand, dry, along him. He really was twisted. Alex thought as his lips worked over the pale flesh of Nigel's throat. Teeth sinking in once he hovered over his pulse. His life in his mouth. It was thrilling. He could end Nigel. End his torment over him. Yet his teeth never sink that far. Despite the darkest part of his brain telling him how much he'd enjoy it. He wouldn't let the bastard have an ending he would enjoy.
"Your pathetic, you know that. Laid like a cheap fucking whore beneath me." His hand tightens, nails digging into the sensitive flesh ever so slightly. Earning him a choked off moan. "I wonder what the ancestors think. Knowing you. The direct descendant of theirs, moaning under me." The words are bitter. Coming from the deep thrumming anger in him. He wanted Nigel to suffer.
"We're fated- ah -" whatever Nigel was going to say was caught off, as he feels the scrape of Alex's nails along him.
Alex sneers. Hand stilling on Nigel, looking at him. "Fated to a freak." He spits the words like venom. Still no sign of shock or hurt crossed Nigel's features. "Explains why you're so fucking good for me though." The words are half muttered, like Alex is talking to himself not Nigel.
But the huff it gets him catches his attention. Nigel's face is the same, yet that spark in his eyes has dimmed. Alex cooed menacingly, his hand returning to Nigel, slightly lighter. "Like a dog. Cause that's all you are isn't it. A pet." He leans forward his mouth brushing Nigel's as he speaks. "My good little spade." His voice wasn't particularly soft, but it wasn't biting like Nigel liked.
Conflict tor across Nigel's face. He didn't know whether he wanted Alex to continue. He didn't like being called good. He wasn't good. He wanted Jack. Not Alex. He wanted his Jack to use him how it was intended to happen. Viciously. Violently.
Alex notices, of course he does. His gaze growing sharper. He bring his hand up, spitting on it. Before taking Nigel back in hand. His hand working him like you would any other man. All he got was a slight buck before his hips settled. A frown of his face. Alex laughed. "What's wrong Ni? Don't you want to be good for me?"
A part of lips as if to speak was all he gets in response. His hand working over Nigel in a way that's meant to give him pleasure, if he didn't need pain to get off that is. But he can see it's not doing anything for the man below him. He loves it.
His hand never ceases, mutterings leave Alex with precision. Never uttering anything negative, despite how he craves to. No. This is so much better. This is how he can use Nigel for once. Alex has the feeling of a puppet being cut from its strings, finally free, to have control over the one aspect he never thought he would.
The praises ringing in the air and the sound of Nigel shifting beneath him, are all that can be heard. Nigel desperately tried to get Alex's grip to tighten, hissing out harsh words or thrashing against his bound. All unsuccessful.
Alex knew Nigel was twisted. But this just proved it. Nigel softening beneath his hand. Despite how Alex's hand was working him so perfectly, in a way that should be driving him crazy. He squeezes the softening flesh, revelling in the gasp, the small glimmer of hope in Nigel's eyes as he thinks that he's finally getting what he wants, only to watch it fade away. His pace remaining, his grip never tightening.
Sneering Nigel glares at Alex. Hands tugging the bond. "Jack....don't you want to unite us? To use your spade?" His voice is slightly dull but he adds a flare of taunting to it, trying to rile Alex. "Surely you want to use me." His back arches, almost like a sacrifice offering themselves to a god above them. Showing their belly in submission and worship. Yet Alex saw past the act, Nigel wasn't submitting. That's too mundane for him. No. He was tempting him. Showing his stomach, the soft vulnerable flesh, no bone protecting the precious organs laying just beneath layers of fats and membrane. He was daring him. Take what was offered, but be aware it comes at a cost.
Alex couldn't help but tense slightly, every bit of his body stiffening as he imagines how easy it would be to cut through that soft flesh below him. How the other man would welcome it. Every bit of him going stiff, yet he remain conscious of his hand cradling Nigel, not allowing his hand to tighten. That was exactly what Nigel wanted. He knew how his actions would come across. And it almost worked. Alex's voice comes out slightly harsher when he speaks. "You'd love that wouldn't you."
Nigel didn't need to answer, his eyes said everything. The subtle hint of a glow in his eyes. He lived for this. For pushing his Jack. For seeing him in his glory. To know that their minds think so alike.
Despite Alex's reaction, Nigel still wasn't getting what he wanted. The hand around him was too soft. Even Alex's face softened. It made Nigel feel almost nauseous. This wasn't right. This wasn't how its meant to be. Non of this is right. Yet despite his body's physical reactions, he found the fire in his gut had yet to calm. How he craved his Jack to use him. To hurt him. To make him feel.
Eventually, Alex's hand leaves Nigel. Reaching past the boy, leaning up and over him, to grab the bottle of lube he kept stuffed between his mattress and the wall. Mainly he had it for himself. Nigel preferred it rough and that meant in every way. Still for this, he would need it.
He situated himself back above Nigel, putting some lube on his hand, slightly rubbing it to warm it. Before his hand moves to between his own legs. Where he was hard and wanting. Having Nigel like this was doing things for him. He revelled in it.
Nigel's eyes burnt past Alex's skin as if he was watching his soul move. Slightly wide eyes as he watch as Alex's hand moves along himself. His mouth watering slightly. "Jack..." he mewled.
Smirking Alex's hand leaves himself, leaning to brace himself over Nigel. Hovering over him. Supporting himself with a hand near Nigel's head. The only bit of contact between them was where Alex's knees bracketed Nigel's hips. "What's wrong, baby? You want something?" His voice sounded foreign to himself. A soft caring tone he had never thought he'd have, especially towards Nigel of all people.
A harsh noise leaves the man below, his face twisted as if torn between anger and sassiness. His eyes narrow as he spits out. "What are you playing at, Jack?"
"What's it matter to you? You just lay there," his free hand gently runs down Nigel's chest before leaving his body again, watching as he tries to conceal a pout. His hand, still lubed up makes a wet sound as he grips himself once more. Letting himself enjoy the feeling, his eyes fluttering slightly. He can feel the soft coolness that radiated off of Nigel, as if he were already a corpse. ",and make me feel good"
He lowers his hips, grasping Nigel in his hand alongside himself. The softness of his flesh feels odd, yet exquisite against himself. He watches Nigel, always watching, waiting to see if he will react in any way like a regular person. Yet even as his hand speeds up, Nigel shows not reaction, no show of even the slightest bit of enjoyment. His face a permanent scowl. Eyes desperate yet with an intensity. Not even a twitch from his member, which remains flaccid against Alex. It should be concerning. It should feel wrong. Yet It only fuels Alex as his hips move to the friction, his breath coming in gasps against Nigel's face and his body trembles slightly to hold himself up.
The look in Nigel's glare could only be described as murderous. Like he was plotting. Like he was imagining how to go about killing Alex. It couldn't be a carefree thing. No, it had to be planned out. To be perfect. He had to kill his Jack in a meaningful way. The sick fuck probably was thinking of that.
It was that thought that tipped Alex over the edge with a low moan. His grip tightening slightly as his eyes closed. Pleasure shooting through his body. Hips jerking. Painting Nigel's skin in him. Claiming him.
For a while he simply breathes, his eyes closed as he recovers. When he does open his eyes hes greeted with a smug look from Nigel.
"I see why they call it la petite mort, you look exquisite in death, Jack."
"Piss off." Alex shoves himself up, pointedly not avoiding hitting his joints into Nigel. Specially hitting him harder with his knee as he steps of the bed. Hearing a sputter gasp from behind him. He says nothing as he dresses. Aware the Nigel's eyes were locked onto him.
He eventually turns, dressed, looking somewhat less like he had just got off on his twisted freak of a roommate. He looks Nigel up and down, he's slightly heaving, no doubt a little winded from the painful jabs that Alex just gave him. Still tied up, laid as if waiting for Alex to return. But that is not how this works.
Instead Alex simply steps to his small desk, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from inside a fake book, slamming it shut as he turns to leave. Casting one last look at the pathetic man sprawled on his bed. "Don't make a mess. Or you'll be sleeping in it."
With that he leaves, the door clicking with a soft thud behind him. Leaving Nigel alone in the room, wanting more yet still soft against his stomach. Grinning like a crazy person to himself, his head thunking back onto the pillow beneath his head. Oh how he loved his Jack's cruelty.