He jerks, as if lightning struck his entire body when he feels that flick against his clamped nipples, feels it pinch tighter into his skin for a sudden and vicious second before it's over, and Alecto is left watching Josh undress with dizzy appreciation, mouth slack, cheeks burning red with the blush of deep arousal.
"I want both," he says, greedy and not at all ashamed about it. "I want to put on a show for you, Master, just like I promised earlier tonight." He's searching Josh's incredibly stoic face (it's impressive), his cock twitching with throbbing interest. His fingers grip the sheets, wanting so badly to touch warm skin instead, but he'll behave. He can be good and wait.
The way the belt buckle clicks open is loud in his ears and Alecto unconsciously wets his lips and leans just a bit more forward.
He makes a deliberate show of sliding the belt out from the loops in his slacks, coiling it neatly, and then stepping forward to set it on the edge of the bed near Alecto, meeting his eyes and smiling, sharp and anticipatory. His shoes and socks are next, laid out neatly, casually, as though he weren't in a room in a sex club with a beautiful boy on his bed, anticipating his every order and whim, suffering prettily at his command. Then he moves to undo his slacks, his fingers quick on the fastenings, remembering the car ride, the way Alecto had leaned in to take his cock down his throat, curled up at Joshua's feet with his head tucked in his still-clothed lap.
After all these weeks he's starting to understand the boundaries better - Daniel loved sucking cock, but Alecto himself did not, though he was amenable to it in certain limited circumstances - but right now, the overriding pretense is the maintenance of their cover identities in the private space and the only orders he is following are Alecto's: I want you to keep playing along. I want you to make me obey you.
"Greedy," he scolds, the breathlessness present but not obvious, as he finally strips off his slacks and tosses them over the chair with his other clothes. He's standing in the silk underwear, so conveniently designed for their earlier activities in the car (he really doesn't want to think about why), his cock an obvious tent in the soft material, straining against the buttons. He slides them down to his ankles and kicks them aside, standing almost entirely nude in front of Alecto, save for the leather gloves.
He walks up to the bed again, and catches up the chain for the nipple clamps and hooks his fingers in the collar again, pulling Alecto towards him, and then he leans in for an intense, passionate kiss, aggressive and commanding without being obnoxious, firmly claiming his mouth as his fingers tighten on the collar until it is taut, putting pressure on Alecto's windpipe without truly cutting off his airway, still allowing him shallow, heady breaths.
"I'm going to want you on your knees so I can watch you fuck yourself open with the plug before you take it out," he murmurs against Alecto's lips, twisting his fingers just so. "And then I'm going to tie your hands behind your back with my belt. I'm not going to help you at all as you mount my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm just going to watch you twitch as I spear you open, I'm going to tug on your nipples so I can feel you clench around me. I expect a good show, my pet. Do you really think you can make me come like that?"
Alecto chokes out a sob when the chain tugs at the clamps, causing a sharp feeling of agony to suddenly shock through his chest. "Yes, Master," he groans. "I'll do all of that for you. Please, please let me try."
The thing is, Alecto is good at keeping his lines unblurred. Most of the time. He has a talent for compartmentalizing. It's what makes him so good at his job (and so good at all the redacted things his family asks of him). That is, he understands the differences between himself and his actions, and when it comes to playing a cover, even more so. To an extent, he can also tell where Josh draws the line between who he really is and who he's pretending to be for the sake of a mission and these past few months have been enlightening. He knows, for instance, that Josh is a thoughtful lover in bed, one that receives pleasure from giving it, but that his persona, Thomas, is more demanding. Josh is more eager to learn what makes his partner happy (and then improving on it with considerable gusto), than calling the shots. But Thomas likes control. Thomas likes rough shower sex in the morning and taking his husband doggy-style on the couch when it pleased him. Josh? Josh likes eye contact and linking their hands when he cums.
Just to name a few.
For a while, Alecto did nothing with this extra information. He imagined there was no real reason for him to get to know Josh at a deeper level lest things get...too personal. Yet here they were. Personal was putting it lightly.
Presently, he focuses on grabbing the base of the plug and plunging it in and out of himself, his eyes rolling back into his own skull with the ache of it all. He spreads his knees wider, leaning on just his shoulders and the side of his cheek as he continues to punish himself for Josh's delight.
He watches Alecto fuck himself with the plug, straining and whimpering with the challenge of following Josh's orders, lost in the scenario they've settled into, a mutual feedback loop of pleasure. Alecto is just so extraordinarily beautiful in his submission - aesthetically, of course, which went without saying, but the true appeal of it for Joshua Archer was the obvious enjoyment Alecto was wringing from the situation, from having the structure of orders and hierarchy imposed in this very specific and unusual context. He wouldn't have (dared to) pegged Alecto for a masochist based on their professional acquaintance, but this entire evening had been a revelation on that front. Just as he couldn't have predicted exactly how much everything about this scenario would appeal to himself personally, how much Alecto's pleasure and unspoken expectation was pushing Josh further - to be more creative, more forceful. More of a Dom, in a very specific sense.
He steps forward and shifts up onto the bed, grabbing Alecto's wrists while he is pushing the plug into himself, right at the widest point, and starts to wrap the leather belt around them, drawing it tight without letting it dig into his skin. Alecto's skin is such a bright, lovely red, a spreading flush in the beautiful curve of his ass, his cheeks held apart by his spread legs and the handle of the plug.
"I want to hear you," he whispers, tucking the end of the belt through the buckle and tugging on Alecto's hands to make sure they are fastened securely. With casual ease, he loops the chain for the nipple rings up over Alecto's head so the links are draped over his shoulders, the trailing length centered between his shoulder blades. Everything is perfectly positioned for Josh to reach, to touch, to torture. He wraps one still gloved hand around the end of the chain and the leather of the belt tying his wrists together at the same time, blatantly ignoring the strain as the metal pulls taught, tugging hard on Alecto's nipples in an upward direction, the links digging into the skin of his shoulders, while his other hand strokes proprietarily over Alecto's ass, until he has wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug again. He fucks it into Alecto with deliberate force, once, twice, three times, before he yanks it out and tosses it aside, positioning himself there instead.
Alecto is still leaning forward on his knees, and Josh is kneeling up behind him on the bed. He takes his own cock in hand, slapping it lightly against the hot-flushed skin of Alecto's sore ass, before he slides it down against his perineum, and up between the crack of his ass, dragging the head against Alecto's slicked, gaping hole.
"You're so stretched for me, my pet," he murmurs, and there is awe and admiration and affection in his tone, impossible to keep out. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock. You'll squeeze tight for me, won't you pet? You can't wait to bring me pleasure?"
He slides just the head, just the tip, in past the barely-there resistance of the much-abused and already loosened ring of muscle, and then stops utterly still.
"Well?" He asks, his voice harsher, more demanding. "I'm waiting."
He moans, delirious, as he feels Josh handle him so roughly, treating him as if he were truly beneath him, just some toy he's using to get off with. It's such a stark difference from the man Josh is day to day, the warm and gentle moral compass that Alecto is so used to relying on.
No, this is an entirely new monster in bed with him. One that Alecto can't help but try desperately to please. So, he starts to fuck himself on Josh's cock, taking in over half the entire shaft at once as he shoves his hips back on demand. He's still painfully tight deep inside, his inner walls barely stretched by the short plug earlier, and taking Josh raw like this hurts. And that's the point. The pain blooms throughout his body, starting at the base of his spine where their bodies are connected. It shivers through him, making his skin bubble up in a cold sweat, gooseflesh everywhere. His hands, now bound tight, leather digging into his wrists (fuck, he hopes they leave a mark), strain, fingers flexing and curling into tight fists as he forces his body back and forth, back and forth until Josh fully bottoms out inside of Alecto's wrecked ass.
"Master," he pants, brokenly, "please, move. I need - I need you to -" His thighs are burning with the burden of keeping his body in motion while staying bent in such a punishing position.
He stays still, watching Alecto strain himself as he works his way back onto Josh's cock, his body struggling to take the full length in, clenching tight around it in rhythmic waves. It's more difficult than he could have expected when he set them both up for this, to stay in control of himself and the situation, to maintain awareness, composure, and the demeanor that Alecto seems to expect from him in the moment.
Alecto's moans echo in his ears, stoking the heat rising beneath his skin to a fever pitch, watching the way he squirms, so clearly and genuinely desperate, eager to please, practically crying as he rocks himself back and forth, trying to take Joshua practically dry, with only the residual lubricant from the plug to ease the way, constantly shuffling awkwardly on his knees on the silken-smooth bedsheets to try to gain just a little bit more leverage with each movement as he fucks himself on Josh's cock. The chain for the clamps on his nipples swings side to side between his shoulder blades, almost hypnotizing; Alecto looks too overwhelmed by the effort of fucking himself on Josh's cock to register the little bites of pain as anything other than an undertone, constant and present, building to overwhelming sensation.
Josh leans forward, trapping Alecto's bound hands between their bodies, and reaches out to wrap an arm around Alecto's neck, a solid heavy weight across his chest, digging the chain into his skin, thrusting his hips forward just forcefully enough to get Alecto's attention.
"Do you trust me, my pet?" He asks softly, breath warm against Alecto's ear. He doesn't bother waiting for an answer, pulling away before Alecto can respond.
With careful movements, he shifts his own weight without pulling out of Alecto's body, steady and immoveable, his knees braced on the bed. Then he reaches down for the belt wrapped around Alecto's wrists and slides both hands up in parallel towards Alecto's elbows, taking a firm hold of his upper arms before he pulls upwards. The movement lifts Alecto's torso up off the bed leaving Josh supporting almost his full weight, while he's basically impaled on Josh's cock, just barely still on his knees, utterly dependent on Josh's strength to keep from dropping him facefirst onto the bed.
"Do you like this, my pet?" He asks, as mildly as he can manage as he thrusts forward and up, almost bouncing Alecto's body on his cock, his fingers digging into his arms, and starts a slow, intent rhythm, fighting against gravity on each upstroke, but letting Alecto drop back down forcefully each time.
Do you trust me? Josh's voice, his almost-plea, is a softness that Alecto cherishes before the rest of the night's violence sets in.
(He knows he doesn't have to say anything for Josh to understand his answer now will always be: yes.)
"I l-love it, Master," he barely manages to groan out, his words hardly audible over the lewd squish of their bodies meeting over and over as Josh uses him. His tongue and lips go slack, and he practically drools, eyes rolling back into his skull with pure pleasure. The position is so challenging, so demanding, forcing Alecto to truly lean on Josh, to rely on his strength and his body to keep them going. He's never felt so properly dominated like this, he thinks he could cry.
"So g-good, you make me f-feel so -!" He's not sure exactly when he comes again, his orgasm hitting him blindside, making a mess of his stomach and thighs. He feels like he has barely any control over his body anymore, anyway. In fact, Alecto feels like he's so overwhelmed his thoughts go entirely blank, just frantic, stupid static as he's fucked so harshly, taken so thoroughly, he's surprised he hasn't just passed out from the intensity of it all: every square inch of his body feels like it's on fire. His nipples ache from the clips, tugging against him each time his body is slammed down onto Josh's lap; his wrists feel bruised; his hips are sore and throbbing.
Watching and feeling Alecto fall apart with pleasure is incredible; knowing with almost no chance for doubt that it is due to Josh - his own actions, his careful adherence to Alecto's earlier challenge-request - is almost enough to make him mindless with need and arousal. But he can't let go, not just yet, not while he can still potentially twist the enjoyment Alecto is feeling one notch higher, based simply on self-possession and a little carefully applied self-denial.
He lets Alecto fall one last time, catching him up in his arms and pulling him close, forcing him to turn his head, the chain being yanked between their bodies, pressed together chest to back as he claims Alecto's slack lips for a possessive kiss, Josh's cock buried in him at the deepest possible point, gravity a gentle but insistent tug on the way they are joined together. "I believe it's my turn, my pet," he murmurs in Alecto's ear, and switches to keeping him held up by just one hand, his other hand grabbing Alecto's hair and yanking tight, just gathering up the strands with obvious entitlement.
Between one breath and the next, he shifts both of their weight, dragging Alecto down to the bed and rolling him over onto his back. His cock slips out with the sudden movement, but not for long - he positions himself over Alecto and shoves back in hard before rolling them again so Alecto is straddling his waist, Josh's cock tucked snugly into the tight, almost swollen channel of his body, gripping him like a vice.
Josh gazes up at Alecto's face, at his expression, looking dazed and fucked out and debauched, his chest and abdomen covered in the evidence of his own previous orgasms, little bruises and marks littering his skin, his nipples tight and tortured by the clamps. Almost without thinking, without realizing what he is doing, he slides his hand up from Alecto's hip and along his spine until he can grab the swaying chain that links those clamps together. When he tugs, he can feel Alecto's body tighten around his cock with a spasm of mingled pain-pleasure, hear the way he moans, broken and fervent. It doesn't take more than a few more tugs before he is finally coming helplessly into Alecto's body. He'd been in a state of half-hard arousal from the moment he'd seen Alecto in what passed for his attire for the night, and in his pent-up state his orgasm leaves him gasping from the intensity, vision gone completely blank.
He forces himself back to wakefulness as soon as he can, gazing anxiously up at Alecto, trying desperately to parse Alecto's state of mind and physical status through his own pleasure-addled brain. He automatically strokes a soothing hand over his hip and up along his chest, careful to avoid stimulating his clamped nipples.
"Y-you were so good for me," he whispers, as steady and calm as he can make it, trying to maintain his carefully constructed persona. "So obedient, so lovely. Thank you for the gift of your submission, for bringing me so much pleasure." His cock is still inside Alecto, but he doesn't want to pull out just yet, wants to wait for Alecto to voice his own preferences. They had played similar - though far tamer - games like this before in the past, and he knew there were times when Alecto didn't want to be empty again so soon after being filled.
He's nearly catatonic at this point, mindless and barely registering what's happening to him as he lets Josh fuck into him continually until he finally comes, and Alecto keens, body twitching as it's filled with a long burst of hot, thick cum. The clamps on his chest are making his nipples sting so hot they're going numb and yet each time he feels the chain pulled, he clenches tight as if on command. He continues to do so, almost rhythmically, until Josh is completely spent, utterly milked dry and Alecto barely has the presence of mind to feel proud of the both of them in the aftermath.
Only a few moments after, when Josh's voice finally starts to reach him, does Alecto blink and begin the slow process of dragging himself back to the present. His hole feels so sore and tender from the treatment it's taken and slowly, as Alecto comes back to himself, eases delicately out of a submissive headspace, he's realizing just how much he put his body through as each inch of him seems to immediately protest upon moving.
Several quiet minutes pass. Then -
"Urgh," he grunts, the first truly ungraceful thing he's said or done throughout this entire endeavor. He braces his hands against Josh's sweat-slick abs and eases himself off with a wince. "I should be the one thanking you," he murmurs as he shifts himself gingerly. His thighs feel wet, Josh's cum steadily leaking out of his fucked open ass. The thought of that still sends a soft thrill through him, whatever that might mean.
He presses a light kiss to Josh's forehead then, holds his lips there for just a bit longer than usual. "You really never disappoint."
He feels Alecto slowly stirring and immediately his attention is on him, letting him shift and arrange Josh as he pleases, pushing off of him, and then even bending to brush his lips over Josh's forehead.
He forces a chuckle and shakes his head, eyes bright and attentive as he gazes up at Alecto. "I'm not sure I can aspire to 'never'," he demurs, with a casual shrug. "Let me get those off you?" He asks, careful not to jostle the clamps, but making it clear what he is referring to. His fingers are deftly undoing the buckle of the belt wrapped around Alecto's wrists even as he speaks.
He is absolutely careful, verbalizing each step he is about to take, giving Alecto the opportunity to voice an objection at any point, trying to ease him back into taking the lead again. Alecto seems fine though, clearly feeling invigorated and pleased as he unwinds and shifts back out of subspace. It doesn't take very long before most of the used toys and ruined sheets are bundled off the bed and there is nothing immediate left for Josh to do or say or distract himself with. He glances at one of the doors - not the one they'd entered from - in the room - presuming that there was a bathroom behind it.
"Do you want to wash yourself off?" He asks, recalling Alecto's usual preferences. He's feeling a little jittery, a little unsure, now that he's almost entirely shed the roles of Dom, and Christopher Vance, now that he's not quite Thomas, Daniel's husband.
Oh, of course Josh remembered his preferences, his habits and comforts, of course. He looks at the other man, chilly dark eyes meeting warm, amber ones, and feels this sudden surge of tenderness for him right then, a feeling so rare it felt like he was being displaced by it.
With each accessory and restraint removed from him, Alecto returns fully to himself again, step by step, as if he were pulling his own skin back onto his bones. With his hands freed, he pushes back his hair again, smoothing is into some semblance of its usual polite quaff.
Usually, he would absolutely run for the showers, desperate to scrub himself clean, to refresh and remove himself from the actions he just pleaded to get violated with. He needed that ritual, that compartmentalization. But whether it was just sheer exhaustion or concern for the uncharacteristically shaky tremble in Josh’s voice, Alecto stays still. He studies his wrists briefly, notices how the angry red marks are starting to fade into something a little darker, just the kiss of a purple-green bruise. He holds back a pleased smile.
"I'm alright for now. I need a moment." As he speaks, his stretches his neck and shoulders, brow furrowing at how tight they are.
Something unnerving is settling between them, Alecto notices. But he doesn't quite know why just yet. He turns back to Josh, studying him. "Though, aspetta." He touches Josh's knee, and with that single gesture, pins him in place.
"You look...strange," he states, matter of fact, leaving no room for a discussion or debate. He knows he's right. "What's happening, tell me.
He blinks, surprised, off-kilter, surprised at the touch against his knee from Alecto. But what he hears is Alecto's verbal shrug, the 'I need a moment,' and he snaps to attention, focusing on that. "It's. I'm fine," he says, but it sounds like a question rather than a statement. "Are you sure you're alright?" There is clear anxiety in his tone as he peers at Alecto, trying to read him more clearly and suddenly coming up blank. "This was. It was a lot..."
By objective measures, the night had been a success - on a personal physical level, as well as the far more important issue of their work and mission - and much of that was due to the way they had meshed together, made that connection between their personas to fool the mark and coax out the information they needed. But after the door to this room had closed behind them... what was this? What exactly had been the goal? Josh feels unmoored and uncertain, especially now when faced with Alecto, somehow still managing to appear poised and confident and dignified despite the bruises blooming over his skin, all the marks Josh had left on him, the streaky remains of his come dotting his abdomen and chest, gazing at him with uncharacteristic concern.
"Sorry," he mumbles, reflexively, putting a hand out to catch himself on the rumpled bed when he starts to sway, feeling suddenly dizzy.
"You're clearly not fine," he murmurs, worry inking into his gaze. His face, usually so stoic and chilly, suddenly takes on a warmer tint of tender concern. The moment Josh stumbles with an obvious tremor in his step, Alecto has his arm around him, steadying him. "Hey," he says, quietly, realizing that this is something he's only ever heard of happening after particularly intense scenes just as the one they just went through: a kind of abrupt and disorienting drop out of headspace, out of a role, that could cause sudden distress and disorientation as the body and mind tries to realign to its original reality.
Among some other things. Things that Alecto knew didn't really matter right now. Because what mattered was making sure Josh felt safe. "Come here," he almost whispers, pitching his voice low and calm as he wraps his arms around Josh's body (which seemed so small right now, even though Alecto knew that wasn't the reality, as Josh had several inches over him normally) and tugging him close, leaning the both of them against the rumpled pillows near the headboard. "You're ok," he continues, stroking back Josh's hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You did incredible for me, Joshua. I've never - and I say this earnestly - been dominated that thoroughly and that wonderfully before. And I know it must not have been an easy task for you, to put aside so much of yourself, your instincts and personality and morals, to go this deep into such a scene with me. I want you to know just how much I appreciate the effort." His lips turn up into an uncharacteristically soft smile which he's certain Josh can feel against his skin.
"Really, you were perfect. Take a breath now, relax with me."
"S'my job," he mumbles again, his words slurring, slow and uncertain. But Alecto's voice, Alecto's directions, provide much needed context and familiarity, and though the warmth of contact and continued touch between them is unexpected and strange, it is helping Josh to settle, the novelty of having Alecto's arms around him, his lips against Josh's skin, providing a much needed anchor.
He breathes in deeply, obedient to Alecto's words, smelling sex and come and Alecto's warm skin, somehow an even more intimate connection between them than what they'd just been doing. "'m dropping, I think," he observes, a little detached but mostly bewildered, unconsciously snuggling closer against what felt like safety and affection while still tensed, apparently in anticipation of it being taken away. Something sparks in his brain, his synapses struggling to match it to a paradigm he understood, and he says, a bit anxiously, "You're sure you're okay?" lethargically moving to try and get a look at Alecto, clearly reluctant to pull away out of his hold, but determined still to do the right thing, to push his body into obedience. "Messy," he observes, not that coherently, his hand splayed out against Alecto's abdomen and the remnants of his release that hadn't been wiped off by the sheets they'd already pushed off to the side, leaving the part of the bed they were laying on mostly clean.
The meaning, rather than just recognizing the sound and inflection, of Alecto's words, finally seems to register and he nods, burying his face against Alecto's shoulder. "As long as you're happy," he observes, earnest and sincere.
"I think you are, yes," he agrees, watching the way Josh collapses against him, struggling to stay present. His heart clenches with worry, but he knows there are some things that simply just need the soft, healing touch of time. "I didn't realize how much this was going to take out of you," he continues, somewhat remorseful but not regretful, speaking directly into those beautiful golden curls at the top of Josh's head. "I let us get a bit carried away."
He shouldn't be surprised that Josh continually tries to check in with him, but seeing him do so in this state is particularly touching. It makes Alecto hold the other man just that much tighter.
"Relax," he repeats again, starting to stroke Josh's arm in a soothing gesture. "I'm alright. I swear. I'm -" and it's as if he finally realizes himself when his mouth forms around the wrods - "happy. I am. Really."
There's something to impact there, something beyond this moment. He'll revisit that later.
"Hey," he murmurs, bringing a hand up to cup Josh's cheek. He bumps their noses together, a surprisingly cute gesture he remembers from his childhood that used to comfort him. "Why don't I go run us a bath, hm?"
He peers into Alecto's eyes, looking awed and surprised and vaguely elated, his heart suddenly beating fast, still confused, but in a deeply pleasant way. "s'all good then," he mumbles, smiling back automatically, the expression blooming in immediate, instinctive answer to Alecto's touch, his tone of voice.
At the question he frowns, but more in continued confusion than anything else. "Did you want a bath?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly. His muscles tense briefly under Alecto's touch, preparation for movement. "It sounds nice. I can -" he stops short, feeling disoriented, thrown off equilibrium. "I can help?" He settles on, uncertain. He feels two or three steps behind, lethargic - as usual, perhaps, when it came to Alecto on missions - but his vague thought is that he should probably be the one doing that for someone he had just been in a scene with, but that for some reason, things were the other way around.
"I want you to just relax," he says, one hand on Josh's chest, gently pinning him in place on the bed, easing him back onto the sheets as Alecto gets up gingerly. "Can you do that for me, angel?"
He smiles. They didn't share too many small personal niceties between them when they were on the job, but this pet name was one of them, a play off the license to kill attached to Joshua Archer's double 0 status ("Angels of death, the lot of them," so it was said). Alecto used it sparingly, only spoken into his agent's ear on occasion or when Alecto was particularly pleased with something ("Good morning, angel," for instance, was a rare greeting but usually indicated something spectacular about Alecto's mood).
"I'll come get you in just a minute when the water's about ready."
He shivers under the touch, Alecto's hand warm against his skin, pressing him down, and he complies immediately, settling back into the sheets and gazing after him as he moves away, eyes wide, the slightest hint of a pout to his lips.
"I can do that," he replies with a nod, a quiet confirmation, and lets his gaze drift to the side, fingers curling in the sheets of the bed as if hungry for physical contact, curling them so his palm presses down against the plush, silken smoothness, his other hand resting on his own thigh, thumb stroking his own skin absently.
"Okay. I'll be here," he adds, quietly, with just a hint of a quaver, the words drawn out of him automatically, his shoulders hunched slightly as he keeps his gaze lowered, the sense of direction settling into his nerves and soothing the jittery agitation just under his skin.
He smiles at that, almost doting, before he heads to the bathroom and starts fussing with the tub and the faucet. It's a small space with nothing too fancy to speak of, but it was comfortable and it would do.
The sound of the water pours out in a rush, filling the room with its echo. Steam begins to dampen the air. Alecto takes this moment to wipe himself down (his stomach and ass and thighs, cleaning them of any proof of sweat and leftover cum) and look at (read: admire) himself in the small mirror, turning around so he could see his backside littered with red streaks. His wrists sport the beginning of bruises and his throat as well have started to erupt into dark rings of color. The sight of it all, this tableau of markings, makes Alecto's breath catch in his throat and his heart leap. It excites him to know that he got to wear these marks as a result of his willing submission to Josh, as proof of his trust in him, and his l -
No. Not love. It's not love.
Right?
Once the tub is close to full, he slides back out, taking Josh's hand in his, gently lifting his fingers from his own skin. The man looks so small like this, so vulnerable...
"Come along now," Alecto's voice remains soft. Although he was not a warm man by any means, he did his best to try and communicate a sense of that at least. "Let me wash your hair for you, hm? Doesn't that sound nice?"
He nods silently, following after Alecto without a hint of hesitation or trepidation. His eyes are still a little glazed over, but he seems steady enough with the clear direction, and climbs into the bathtub after only a brief moment of hesitation. He keeps turning his head to look at Alecto, apparently trying to keep him in his field of vision, but not sure how to voice the want. The sigh he lets out as he sinks into the just-hot enough water is long and heartfelt and he murmurs, "Thank you," softly, blinking up at Alecto as he tilts his head back into the water.
It's been such a long time since something like this has even vaguely been an option - voluntarily naked and vulnerable in front of someone else, sinking into the depths of a tub filled with hot water, without any kind of protective identity or medical procedure as an excuse - and Josh feels unmoored in a completely different way. But Alecto's voice is so grounding and soothing, a familiar foundation, even unwontedly soft and gentle as it was right now, and he can't help the smile that touches his face as he gazes up at him, his eyes flitting briefly over the marks now littering his skin, and he reaches out for Alecto's wrist, gently rubbing his thumb over some of the marks from the belt that had been used to restrain him. That Josh had used to restrain him.
"Sorry," he says, a little vaguely, but there is pride in his tone; that he'd apparently done a good job, earned a compliment, was something he could still grasp, even in his unbalanced state of mind. "Just... You look so beautiful."
Alecto freezes but it's barely noticeable other than the way his hand goes a little limp in Josh's grasp.
"You don't have to be sorry about anything," he murmurs. "You did a great job tonight," he repeats, still trying his best to straddle that line of being neutral but encouraging and vulnerable. Tenderly, he moves his hand away and back into the lather being worked up in Josh's hair.
The soft sound of water flowing once more and Alecto rinses the two of them off. His arms hesitate for just a moment before finding their place again around Josh's body, keeping him secure and constantly in touch. "How are you feeling now?" he asks, dipping his head just a bit so his lips are near Josh's ear, his voice a soft whisper.
There's a part of Joshua that knows the right answer.
It's the stronger part of him, usually, the part that's used to caution and intent, the part that moved to the forefront when faced with something unexpected, the part that kept him as sane as it was possible for anyone to be in this particular line of work. The part that - oddly enough - had somehow taken on some of Alecto's voice and mannerisms, at some point. The part that knew that what was happening right now was entirely out of the ordinary, against protocol and best practices and good sense, that he needed to get it together and pull the tattered remnants of his poise and self-control back around himself and present himself as an intelligence officer, an agent again.
But that wasn't the part that was in control right now.
"'m feeling good," he replies immediately, obedient and alert in a very particular way - attuned to Alecto rather than anything else about the situation, including himself and his own reactions. He shivers - he's not sure at what, or why - and then he turns his head, lips brushing over Alecto's cheek - so close, he was leaning so close - in a chaste whisper of a kiss.
"You were amazing," he murmurs, and there is no mistaking the sincerity in the declaration. "Are amazing. I just... Thank you." He blinks, feeling something out of place, but also a deep, abiding feeling of rightness. He barely notices his vision blurring, tears and steam mingling in his eyes, spilling over down his already warm, damp cheeks. He doesn't feel sad at all, but light and uncharacteristically at ease.
The moment gathers, stretches, swells; like a too full cup, the only thing keeing things from spilling over is the natural tension and order that governs all their interactions.
Joshua Archer blinks the last lingering tears from his eyes and tilts his head up to look at Alecto, upside down.
"How long was I out?" He's not all the way back to his usual self; there's a softness still to the way he looks at Alecto that has nothing to do with their professional relationship or any of the layered cover identities they were operating under.
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"I want both," he says, greedy and not at all ashamed about it. "I want to put on a show for you, Master, just like I promised earlier tonight." He's searching Josh's incredibly stoic face (it's impressive), his cock twitching with throbbing interest. His fingers grip the sheets, wanting so badly to touch warm skin instead, but he'll behave. He can be good and wait.
The way the belt buckle clicks open is loud in his ears and Alecto unconsciously wets his lips and leans just a bit more forward.
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After all these weeks he's starting to understand the boundaries better - Daniel loved sucking cock, but Alecto himself did not, though he was amenable to it in certain limited circumstances - but right now, the overriding pretense is the maintenance of their cover identities in the private space and the only orders he is following are Alecto's: I want you to keep playing along. I want you to make me obey you.
"Greedy," he scolds, the breathlessness present but not obvious, as he finally strips off his slacks and tosses them over the chair with his other clothes. He's standing in the silk underwear, so conveniently designed for their earlier activities in the car (he really doesn't want to think about why), his cock an obvious tent in the soft material, straining against the buttons. He slides them down to his ankles and kicks them aside, standing almost entirely nude in front of Alecto, save for the leather gloves.
He walks up to the bed again, and catches up the chain for the nipple clamps and hooks his fingers in the collar again, pulling Alecto towards him, and then he leans in for an intense, passionate kiss, aggressive and commanding without being obnoxious, firmly claiming his mouth as his fingers tighten on the collar until it is taut, putting pressure on Alecto's windpipe without truly cutting off his airway, still allowing him shallow, heady breaths.
"I'm going to want you on your knees so I can watch you fuck yourself open with the plug before you take it out," he murmurs against Alecto's lips, twisting his fingers just so. "And then I'm going to tie your hands behind your back with my belt. I'm not going to help you at all as you mount my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm just going to watch you twitch as I spear you open, I'm going to tug on your nipples so I can feel you clench around me. I expect a good show, my pet. Do you really think you can make me come like that?"
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The thing is, Alecto is good at keeping his lines unblurred. Most of the time. He has a talent for compartmentalizing. It's what makes him so good at his job (and so good at all the redacted things his family asks of him). That is, he understands the differences between himself and his actions, and when it comes to playing a cover, even more so. To an extent, he can also tell where Josh draws the line between who he really is and who he's pretending to be for the sake of a mission and these past few months have been enlightening. He knows, for instance, that Josh is a thoughtful lover in bed, one that receives pleasure from giving it, but that his persona, Thomas, is more demanding. Josh is more eager to learn what makes his partner happy (and then improving on it with considerable gusto), than calling the shots. But Thomas likes control. Thomas likes rough shower sex in the morning and taking his husband doggy-style on the couch when it pleased him. Josh? Josh likes eye contact and linking their hands when he cums.
Just to name a few.
For a while, Alecto did nothing with this extra information. He imagined there was no real reason for him to get to know Josh at a deeper level lest things get...too personal. Yet here they were. Personal was putting it lightly.
Presently, he focuses on grabbing the base of the plug and plunging it in and out of himself, his eyes rolling back into his own skull with the ache of it all. He spreads his knees wider, leaning on just his shoulders and the side of his cheek as he continues to punish himself for Josh's delight.
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He steps forward and shifts up onto the bed, grabbing Alecto's wrists while he is pushing the plug into himself, right at the widest point, and starts to wrap the leather belt around them, drawing it tight without letting it dig into his skin. Alecto's skin is such a bright, lovely red, a spreading flush in the beautiful curve of his ass, his cheeks held apart by his spread legs and the handle of the plug.
"I want to hear you," he whispers, tucking the end of the belt through the buckle and tugging on Alecto's hands to make sure they are fastened securely. With casual ease, he loops the chain for the nipple rings up over Alecto's head so the links are draped over his shoulders, the trailing length centered between his shoulder blades. Everything is perfectly positioned for Josh to reach, to touch, to torture. He wraps one still gloved hand around the end of the chain and the leather of the belt tying his wrists together at the same time, blatantly ignoring the strain as the metal pulls taught, tugging hard on Alecto's nipples in an upward direction, the links digging into the skin of his shoulders, while his other hand strokes proprietarily over Alecto's ass, until he has wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug again. He fucks it into Alecto with deliberate force, once, twice, three times, before he yanks it out and tosses it aside, positioning himself there instead.
Alecto is still leaning forward on his knees, and Josh is kneeling up behind him on the bed. He takes his own cock in hand, slapping it lightly against the hot-flushed skin of Alecto's sore ass, before he slides it down against his perineum, and up between the crack of his ass, dragging the head against Alecto's slicked, gaping hole.
"You're so stretched for me, my pet," he murmurs, and there is awe and admiration and affection in his tone, impossible to keep out. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock. You'll squeeze tight for me, won't you pet? You can't wait to bring me pleasure?"
He slides just the head, just the tip, in past the barely-there resistance of the much-abused and already loosened ring of muscle, and then stops utterly still.
"Well?" He asks, his voice harsher, more demanding. "I'm waiting."
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No, this is an entirely new monster in bed with him. One that Alecto can't help but try desperately to please. So, he starts to fuck himself on Josh's cock, taking in over half the entire shaft at once as he shoves his hips back on demand. He's still painfully tight deep inside, his inner walls barely stretched by the short plug earlier, and taking Josh raw like this hurts. And that's the point. The pain blooms throughout his body, starting at the base of his spine where their bodies are connected. It shivers through him, making his skin bubble up in a cold sweat, gooseflesh everywhere. His hands, now bound tight, leather digging into his wrists (fuck, he hopes they leave a mark), strain, fingers flexing and curling into tight fists as he forces his body back and forth, back and forth until Josh fully bottoms out inside of Alecto's wrecked ass.
"Master," he pants, brokenly, "please, move. I need - I need you to -" His thighs are burning with the burden of keeping his body in motion while staying bent in such a punishing position.
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Alecto's moans echo in his ears, stoking the heat rising beneath his skin to a fever pitch, watching the way he squirms, so clearly and genuinely desperate, eager to please, practically crying as he rocks himself back and forth, trying to take Joshua practically dry, with only the residual lubricant from the plug to ease the way, constantly shuffling awkwardly on his knees on the silken-smooth bedsheets to try to gain just a little bit more leverage with each movement as he fucks himself on Josh's cock. The chain for the clamps on his nipples swings side to side between his shoulder blades, almost hypnotizing; Alecto looks too overwhelmed by the effort of fucking himself on Josh's cock to register the little bites of pain as anything other than an undertone, constant and present, building to overwhelming sensation.
Josh leans forward, trapping Alecto's bound hands between their bodies, and reaches out to wrap an arm around Alecto's neck, a solid heavy weight across his chest, digging the chain into his skin, thrusting his hips forward just forcefully enough to get Alecto's attention.
"Do you trust me, my pet?" He asks softly, breath warm against Alecto's ear. He doesn't bother waiting for an answer, pulling away before Alecto can respond.
With careful movements, he shifts his own weight without pulling out of Alecto's body, steady and immoveable, his knees braced on the bed. Then he reaches down for the belt wrapped around Alecto's wrists and slides both hands up in parallel towards Alecto's elbows, taking a firm hold of his upper arms before he pulls upwards. The movement lifts Alecto's torso up off the bed leaving Josh supporting almost his full weight, while he's basically impaled on Josh's cock, just barely still on his knees, utterly dependent on Josh's strength to keep from dropping him facefirst onto the bed.
"Do you like this, my pet?" He asks, as mildly as he can manage as he thrusts forward and up, almost bouncing Alecto's body on his cock, his fingers digging into his arms, and starts a slow, intent rhythm, fighting against gravity on each upstroke, but letting Alecto drop back down forcefully each time.
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(He knows he doesn't have to say anything for Josh to understand his answer now will always be: yes.)
"I l-love it, Master," he barely manages to groan out, his words hardly audible over the lewd squish of their bodies meeting over and over as Josh uses him. His tongue and lips go slack, and he practically drools, eyes rolling back into his skull with pure pleasure. The position is so challenging, so demanding, forcing Alecto to truly lean on Josh, to rely on his strength and his body to keep them going. He's never felt so properly dominated like this, he thinks he could cry.
"So g-good, you make me f-feel so -!" He's not sure exactly when he comes again, his orgasm hitting him blindside, making a mess of his stomach and thighs. He feels like he has barely any control over his body anymore, anyway. In fact, Alecto feels like he's so overwhelmed his thoughts go entirely blank, just frantic, stupid static as he's fucked so harshly, taken so thoroughly, he's surprised he hasn't just passed out from the intensity of it all: every square inch of his body feels like it's on fire. His nipples ache from the clips, tugging against him each time his body is slammed down onto Josh's lap; his wrists feel bruised; his hips are sore and throbbing.
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He lets Alecto fall one last time, catching him up in his arms and pulling him close, forcing him to turn his head, the chain being yanked between their bodies, pressed together chest to back as he claims Alecto's slack lips for a possessive kiss, Josh's cock buried in him at the deepest possible point, gravity a gentle but insistent tug on the way they are joined together. "I believe it's my turn, my pet," he murmurs in Alecto's ear, and switches to keeping him held up by just one hand, his other hand grabbing Alecto's hair and yanking tight, just gathering up the strands with obvious entitlement.
Between one breath and the next, he shifts both of their weight, dragging Alecto down to the bed and rolling him over onto his back. His cock slips out with the sudden movement, but not for long - he positions himself over Alecto and shoves back in hard before rolling them again so Alecto is straddling his waist, Josh's cock tucked snugly into the tight, almost swollen channel of his body, gripping him like a vice.
Josh gazes up at Alecto's face, at his expression, looking dazed and fucked out and debauched, his chest and abdomen covered in the evidence of his own previous orgasms, little bruises and marks littering his skin, his nipples tight and tortured by the clamps. Almost without thinking, without realizing what he is doing, he slides his hand up from Alecto's hip and along his spine until he can grab the swaying chain that links those clamps together. When he tugs, he can feel Alecto's body tighten around his cock with a spasm of mingled pain-pleasure, hear the way he moans, broken and fervent. It doesn't take more than a few more tugs before he is finally coming helplessly into Alecto's body. He'd been in a state of half-hard arousal from the moment he'd seen Alecto in what passed for his attire for the night, and in his pent-up state his orgasm leaves him gasping from the intensity, vision gone completely blank.
He forces himself back to wakefulness as soon as he can, gazing anxiously up at Alecto, trying desperately to parse Alecto's state of mind and physical status through his own pleasure-addled brain. He automatically strokes a soothing hand over his hip and up along his chest, careful to avoid stimulating his clamped nipples.
"Y-you were so good for me," he whispers, as steady and calm as he can make it, trying to maintain his carefully constructed persona. "So obedient, so lovely. Thank you for the gift of your submission, for bringing me so much pleasure." His cock is still inside Alecto, but he doesn't want to pull out just yet, wants to wait for Alecto to voice his own preferences. They had played similar - though far tamer - games like this before in the past, and he knew there were times when Alecto didn't want to be empty again so soon after being filled.
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Only a few moments after, when Josh's voice finally starts to reach him, does Alecto blink and begin the slow process of dragging himself back to the present. His hole feels so sore and tender from the treatment it's taken and slowly, as Alecto comes back to himself, eases delicately out of a submissive headspace, he's realizing just how much he put his body through as each inch of him seems to immediately protest upon moving.
Several quiet minutes pass. Then -
"Urgh," he grunts, the first truly ungraceful thing he's said or done throughout this entire endeavor. He braces his hands against Josh's sweat-slick abs and eases himself off with a wince. "I should be the one thanking you," he murmurs as he shifts himself gingerly. His thighs feel wet, Josh's cum steadily leaking out of his fucked open ass. The thought of that still sends a soft thrill through him, whatever that might mean.
He presses a light kiss to Josh's forehead then, holds his lips there for just a bit longer than usual. "You really never disappoint."
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He forces a chuckle and shakes his head, eyes bright and attentive as he gazes up at Alecto. "I'm not sure I can aspire to 'never'," he demurs, with a casual shrug. "Let me get those off you?" He asks, careful not to jostle the clamps, but making it clear what he is referring to. His fingers are deftly undoing the buckle of the belt wrapped around Alecto's wrists even as he speaks.
He is absolutely careful, verbalizing each step he is about to take, giving Alecto the opportunity to voice an objection at any point, trying to ease him back into taking the lead again. Alecto seems fine though, clearly feeling invigorated and pleased as he unwinds and shifts back out of subspace. It doesn't take very long before most of the used toys and ruined sheets are bundled off the bed and there is nothing immediate left for Josh to do or say or distract himself with. He glances at one of the doors - not the one they'd entered from - in the room - presuming that there was a bathroom behind it.
"Do you want to wash yourself off?" He asks, recalling Alecto's usual preferences. He's feeling a little jittery, a little unsure, now that he's almost entirely shed the roles of Dom, and Christopher Vance, now that he's not quite Thomas, Daniel's husband.
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With each accessory and restraint removed from him, Alecto returns fully to himself again, step by step, as if he were pulling his own skin back onto his bones. With his hands freed, he pushes back his hair again, smoothing is into some semblance of its usual polite quaff.
Usually, he would absolutely run for the showers, desperate to scrub himself clean, to refresh and remove himself from the actions he just pleaded to get violated with. He needed that ritual, that compartmentalization. But whether it was just sheer exhaustion or concern for the uncharacteristically shaky tremble in Josh’s voice, Alecto stays still. He studies his wrists briefly, notices how the angry red marks are starting to fade into something a little darker, just the kiss of a purple-green bruise. He holds back a pleased smile.
"I'm alright for now. I need a moment." As he speaks, his stretches his neck and shoulders, brow furrowing at how tight they are.
Something unnerving is settling between them, Alecto notices. But he doesn't quite know why just yet. He turns back to Josh, studying him. "Though, aspetta." He touches Josh's knee, and with that single gesture, pins him in place.
"You look...strange," he states, matter of fact, leaving no room for a discussion or debate. He knows he's right. "What's happening, tell me.
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By objective measures, the night had been a success - on a personal physical level, as well as the far more important issue of their work and mission - and much of that was due to the way they had meshed together, made that connection between their personas to fool the mark and coax out the information they needed. But after the door to this room had closed behind them... what was this? What exactly had been the goal? Josh feels unmoored and uncertain, especially now when faced with Alecto, somehow still managing to appear poised and confident and dignified despite the bruises blooming over his skin, all the marks Josh had left on him, the streaky remains of his come dotting his abdomen and chest, gazing at him with uncharacteristic concern.
"Sorry," he mumbles, reflexively, putting a hand out to catch himself on the rumpled bed when he starts to sway, feeling suddenly dizzy.
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Among some other things. Things that Alecto knew didn't really matter right now. Because what mattered was making sure Josh felt safe. "Come here," he almost whispers, pitching his voice low and calm as he wraps his arms around Josh's body (which seemed so small right now, even though Alecto knew that wasn't the reality, as Josh had several inches over him normally) and tugging him close, leaning the both of them against the rumpled pillows near the headboard. "You're ok," he continues, stroking back Josh's hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You did incredible for me, Joshua. I've never - and I say this earnestly - been dominated that thoroughly and that wonderfully before. And I know it must not have been an easy task for you, to put aside so much of yourself, your instincts and personality and morals, to go this deep into such a scene with me. I want you to know just how much I appreciate the effort." His lips turn up into an uncharacteristically soft smile which he's certain Josh can feel against his skin.
"Really, you were perfect. Take a breath now, relax with me."
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He breathes in deeply, obedient to Alecto's words, smelling sex and come and Alecto's warm skin, somehow an even more intimate connection between them than what they'd just been doing. "'m dropping, I think," he observes, a little detached but mostly bewildered, unconsciously snuggling closer against what felt like safety and affection while still tensed, apparently in anticipation of it being taken away. Something sparks in his brain, his synapses struggling to match it to a paradigm he understood, and he says, a bit anxiously, "You're sure you're okay?" lethargically moving to try and get a look at Alecto, clearly reluctant to pull away out of his hold, but determined still to do the right thing, to push his body into obedience. "Messy," he observes, not that coherently, his hand splayed out against Alecto's abdomen and the remnants of his release that hadn't been wiped off by the sheets they'd already pushed off to the side, leaving the part of the bed they were laying on mostly clean.
The meaning, rather than just recognizing the sound and inflection, of Alecto's words, finally seems to register and he nods, burying his face against Alecto's shoulder. "As long as you're happy," he observes, earnest and sincere.
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He shouldn't be surprised that Josh continually tries to check in with him, but seeing him do so in this state is particularly touching. It makes Alecto hold the other man just that much tighter.
"Relax," he repeats again, starting to stroke Josh's arm in a soothing gesture. "I'm alright. I swear. I'm -" and it's as if he finally realizes himself when his mouth forms around the wrods - "happy. I am. Really."
There's something to impact there, something beyond this moment. He'll revisit that later.
"Hey," he murmurs, bringing a hand up to cup Josh's cheek. He bumps their noses together, a surprisingly cute gesture he remembers from his childhood that used to comfort him. "Why don't I go run us a bath, hm?"
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At the question he frowns, but more in continued confusion than anything else. "Did you want a bath?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly. His muscles tense briefly under Alecto's touch, preparation for movement. "It sounds nice. I can -" he stops short, feeling disoriented, thrown off equilibrium. "I can help?" He settles on, uncertain. He feels two or three steps behind, lethargic - as usual, perhaps, when it came to Alecto on missions - but his vague thought is that he should probably be the one doing that for someone he had just been in a scene with, but that for some reason, things were the other way around.
"What...what do you want me to do?"
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He smiles. They didn't share too many small personal niceties between them when they were on the job, but this pet name was one of them, a play off the license to kill attached to Joshua Archer's double 0 status ("Angels of death, the lot of them," so it was said). Alecto used it sparingly, only spoken into his agent's ear on occasion or when Alecto was particularly pleased with something ("Good morning, angel," for instance, was a rare greeting but usually indicated something spectacular about Alecto's mood).
"I'll come get you in just a minute when the water's about ready."
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"I can do that," he replies with a nod, a quiet confirmation, and lets his gaze drift to the side, fingers curling in the sheets of the bed as if hungry for physical contact, curling them so his palm presses down against the plush, silken smoothness, his other hand resting on his own thigh, thumb stroking his own skin absently.
"Okay. I'll be here," he adds, quietly, with just a hint of a quaver, the words drawn out of him automatically, his shoulders hunched slightly as he keeps his gaze lowered, the sense of direction settling into his nerves and soothing the jittery agitation just under his skin.
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The sound of the water pours out in a rush, filling the room with its echo. Steam begins to dampen the air. Alecto takes this moment to wipe himself down (his stomach and ass and thighs, cleaning them of any proof of sweat and leftover cum) and look at (read: admire) himself in the small mirror, turning around so he could see his backside littered with red streaks. His wrists sport the beginning of bruises and his throat as well have started to erupt into dark rings of color. The sight of it all, this tableau of markings, makes Alecto's breath catch in his throat and his heart leap. It excites him to know that he got to wear these marks as a result of his willing submission to Josh, as proof of his trust in him, and his l -
No. Not love. It's not love.
Right?
Once the tub is close to full, he slides back out, taking Josh's hand in his, gently lifting his fingers from his own skin. The man looks so small like this, so vulnerable...
"Come along now," Alecto's voice remains soft. Although he was not a warm man by any means, he did his best to try and communicate a sense of that at least. "Let me wash your hair for you, hm? Doesn't that sound nice?"
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It's been such a long time since something like this has even vaguely been an option - voluntarily naked and vulnerable in front of someone else, sinking into the depths of a tub filled with hot water, without any kind of protective identity or medical procedure as an excuse - and Josh feels unmoored in a completely different way. But Alecto's voice is so grounding and soothing, a familiar foundation, even unwontedly soft and gentle as it was right now, and he can't help the smile that touches his face as he gazes up at him, his eyes flitting briefly over the marks now littering his skin, and he reaches out for Alecto's wrist, gently rubbing his thumb over some of the marks from the belt that had been used to restrain him. That Josh had used to restrain him.
"Sorry," he says, a little vaguely, but there is pride in his tone; that he'd apparently done a good job, earned a compliment, was something he could still grasp, even in his unbalanced state of mind. "Just... You look so beautiful."
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Alecto freezes but it's barely noticeable other than the way his hand goes a little limp in Josh's grasp.
"You don't have to be sorry about anything," he murmurs. "You did a great job tonight," he repeats, still trying his best to straddle that line of being neutral but encouraging and vulnerable. Tenderly, he moves his hand away and back into the lather being worked up in Josh's hair.
The soft sound of water flowing once more and Alecto rinses the two of them off. His arms hesitate for just a moment before finding their place again around Josh's body, keeping him secure and constantly in touch. "How are you feeling now?" he asks, dipping his head just a bit so his lips are near Josh's ear, his voice a soft whisper.
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It's the stronger part of him, usually, the part that's used to caution and intent, the part that moved to the forefront when faced with something unexpected, the part that kept him as sane as it was possible for anyone to be in this particular line of work. The part that - oddly enough - had somehow taken on some of Alecto's voice and mannerisms, at some point. The part that knew that what was happening right now was entirely out of the ordinary, against protocol and best practices and good sense, that he needed to get it together and pull the tattered remnants of his poise and self-control back around himself and present himself as an intelligence officer, an agent again.
But that wasn't the part that was in control right now.
"'m feeling good," he replies immediately, obedient and alert in a very particular way - attuned to Alecto rather than anything else about the situation, including himself and his own reactions. He shivers - he's not sure at what, or why - and then he turns his head, lips brushing over Alecto's cheek - so close, he was leaning so close - in a chaste whisper of a kiss.
"You were amazing," he murmurs, and there is no mistaking the sincerity in the declaration. "Are amazing. I just... Thank you." He blinks, feeling something out of place, but also a deep, abiding feeling of rightness. He barely notices his vision blurring, tears and steam mingling in his eyes, spilling over down his already warm, damp cheeks. He doesn't feel sad at all, but light and uncharacteristically at ease.
The moment gathers, stretches, swells; like a too full cup, the only thing keeing things from spilling over is the natural tension and order that governs all their interactions.
Joshua Archer blinks the last lingering tears from his eyes and tilts his head up to look at Alecto, upside down.
"How long was I out?" He's not all the way back to his usual self; there's a softness still to the way he looks at Alecto that has nothing to do with their professional relationship or any of the layered cover identities they were operating under.