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Alex likes the symbolic element of New Year’s Eve; a chance to renew, a promise to fix the things that are broken and a new slate wiped clean. What he doesn’t enjoy are the traditional celebrations. Since he and Rachel had the kids they rarely go out on New Year’s Eve, everything is more expensive, crowded and frantic. Occasionally he might go to a house party if one of his friends invite him but otherwise he stays indoors, has a few drinks and toasts the new year quietly before going to bed.
Rachel doesn’t make the meagre living room celebration they’ve got planned, retiring to bed early with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to go out and do something fun next year.
He’s feeling a little maudlin, if he’s honest with himself. He has a glass of wine in hand and he’s trying to watch the television to very little avail when at 23:45 his mobile rings. Alex lifts the phone and checks the screen, thinking that he couldn’t bear it if it were some kind of spam call this close to midnight but fearing that it might be, the way the evening is shaping up.
He notes that it’s Greg calling him and gets a flutter of excitement that makes him frown. Greg doesn’t usually call much at all, preferring to text or WhatsApp. They really are friends, of a sort, colleagues turned friends he supposes. Alex had just assumed that Greg didn’t want to be his friend and Greg had assumed that Alex didn’t make friends outside of his little clique of people he’s known since he was young - or at least that’s what Greg told him in a drunken conversation one night in a forgotten pub. Eventually they both figure out that they’re wrong about the other and begin a tentative friendship. They’re very different people but it works for all those differences.
“Greg!” Alex answers the phone in a far cheerier voice than he intends, always worried that he’s going to come across as too eager, even now.
“Hello there mate,” Greg replies, sounding like he might be a bit drunk.
“You don’t usually call,” Alex points out, completely failing to keep the happy warmth out of his voice.
“I wanted to ring in the new year talking to my friend. Is that so odd?”
“No, of course not. Sorry…” Alex says automatically, inwardly cursing himself for the implied accusation.
“Relax, Alex, I’m just teasing you,” Greg’s voice is soft and warm and Alex can hear the smile down the line as clearly as if Greg were in front of him.
“I like to talk to you,” Alex admits, voice dipping lower like he’s telling Greg a secret.
Alex can hear Greg breathing and then a clink of ice against a glass.
“What are you drinking?” Alex asks, desperately trying to keep the conversation going.
Greg chuckles. “You know what I’m drinking, Alex. You told the whole world what I drink on the radio.”
“Ah,” Alex says, “I hoped you hadn’t heard that.”
Greg takes a noisy breath in and says, “I thought you just assumed I’m always watching you? Hmmm?”
“Yes, I do…” Alex admits before his brain can catch up with what he’s saying.
Alex closes his eyes. He definitely shouldn’t have said that last bit. He sounds like he’s practically panting for Greg to be watching him all the time. No matter how true that is - and the truth is between him and his own hand - it’s not a smart thing to do to give Greg even more power over him.
“What am I watching you do?” Greg says, in a voice dripping with knowing; low and rough and intense.
Getting a little jolt like an electric shock at the realisation of what he’s about to do, Alex takes a gulp of his wine. His wife is asleep upstairs, the kids are all at friend’s houses, he really shouldn’t be doing this and what if Greg is not serious. He doesn’t think he could handle it. He told himself that his feelings for Greg were a harmless fantasy. Greg didn’t feel the same way so what was the harm in indulging himself every now and again in the privacy of his own mind.
“What do you want me to do?” Alex asks, buying time, trying to make sure that he’s not about to make a gigantic fool out of himself.
Alex hears Greg chuckle, warm and low in his ear. “Clever, Little Alex… making me do the work, ticking all the boxes, just in case.”
Greg pauses for long enough that Alex starts to get seriously worried that he has absolutely bollocksed this up somehow.
“Okay, let me be crystal clear,” Greg says, with a certainty that Alex finds reassuring despite his anxiety. “I am slightly drunk. I am horny as hell. And I realised that the only person I wanted to be talking to tonight was you, Alex Horne.”
“Okay…” Alex breathes, shoulders dipping in relief but then immediately followed by the knowledge that he really shouldn’t be doing this.
“I understand if this is too weird but I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. I’m not as unfamiliar with attraction as people seem to believe.”
“Oh…” Alex says, thinking fuck, fuck, fuck, in a loop.
“When I’ve imagined this,” Greg starts, short circuiting Alex’s brain with the knowledge that Greg has thought about this before tonight, has thought about him, like this. “I’ve never been able to imagine you talking dirty. I know you’re clever and good with words but you’re uncomfortable talking about sex. I imagine you furtively wrapping a hand round yourself and getting it over with as quickly as possible.”
“You’re right,” Alex acknowledges, adding bravely, “not about everything but about me being no good at talking about… it.”
“Oh wow, you’re worse than I imagined,” Greg says gleefully.
Alex hangs his head even though he knows Greg can’t see him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Greg says softly, “I’ll teach you.”
“You hate teaching,” Alex retorts, biting his bottom lip with embarrassment.
“FaceTime, Alex,” Greg says suddenly and hangs up.
A few seconds later, Alex hears the FaceTime tone and steels himself for the conversation that he knows is inevitable.
“Hey there,” Greg says, all soft and fond with an eye-crinkly smile aimed solely at Alex.
“Hello,” Alex replies, feeling slightly less on edge now he can see Greg.
Greg is wearing a soft looking long sleeved top in dark blue, he has his glasses on and he takes a sip from his glass and smacks his lips afterwards, which makes Alex smile. Alex sits back in his armchair and stares, utterly mesmerised at the way Greg is looking at him.
“Show me…” Greg croons, eyes sparkling. “I want to see it.”
“Show you what?” Alex asks, even though he knows what, he can feel his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears burn red.
“Are you hard?” Greg asks in a serious voice, humour but not mockery laying just underneath the surface.
Alex’s breath hitches. They’re actually going to do this. Alex is actually going to do this. Suddenly fireworks go off outside, the crackle and bang loud and jarring.
“Happy New Year, Alex,” Greg whispers intimately.
“Happy New Year… and yes I am,” Alex risks, sneaking a hand down his chest to his groin to push against the bulge as if he’s making sure he’s telling the truth.
Greg exhales shakily. “Show me…”
“Christ, Greg…” Alex whispers, roughly pushing his jogging bottoms and underwear down under his balls and pulling himself out. He pulls his t-shirt up to let his cock slap obscenely against his lightly-furred belly and twists the phone to point downwards for a couple of seconds before getting too shy and looking back at Greg.
“I can’t believe that,” Greg says with wonder, not elaborating on precisely what bit of it he can’t believe. “Fuck, Alex, you’re so hard, just from this.”
Alex whines with embarrassment. “Are you…” Alex takes a big ragged gulp of air and loses his nerve.
“Yes,” Greg answers with certainty, adding, “as a fucking rock,” in case Alex were to get the wrong impression.
Alex can feel that he’s breathing heavily and tries to calm himself down which is ultimately futile when Greg starts talking.
“Slouch a bit, Alex, relax. You’re always so tense, wound up way too tight, you need to let go every once in a while.”
Greg’s voice washes over Alex and he realises he has slipped his eyes closed. He puts his drink down on the floor and holds the phone with one hand.
“Wrap your fingers around your cock, loosely. I want you to tease yourself,” Greg draws out the word tease and Alex thinks he’s probably going to lose his mind.
He follows Greg’s direction, sliding his hand down his body and following with the phone so Greg can see he’s doing what he’s told. He wraps his long fingers around his shaft, just barely touching himself, letting his fingertips trail up and down his skin until he is so sensitive he feels like he’s been electrocuted. He can hear Greg breathing heavily, hears a strangled ‘fuck’ drop from Greg’s lips that he finds immensely gratifying. He tries not to think that he’s basically shoving his cock in Greg’s face, even though the thought that he is makes him that much harder. He feels dirty and a little dangerous, masturbating in his living room with another man.
“Just like that…” Greg says.
Alex can hear the arousal in Greg’s voice, lifts the phone up to find Greg’s pupils blown wide and his shoulder moving like he’s touching himself.
“Rub your thumb over the head. I want to see you suck it. You look fucking wet already,” Greg observes, moaning openly when Alex obeys, lifting his glistening thumb to his lips and sucking, allowing Greg to see his tongue tasting his own fluid.
“Can I see you?” Alex asks, suddenly brave.
Greg lowers the phone without answering, tilting the angle so that Alex can see Greg’s thick fingers wrapped loosely around his cock. Greg’s bigger than him and thicker but not by as much as he’s imagined, the close up is making his mouth water. As if Greg can hear his thoughts, he echoes Alex’s earlier actions and swipes a finger through the precome beading at his tip, lifting the phone so Alex can see him suck with his eyes closed.
Alex hears himself whimper and momentarily tightens his grip on his own cock before remembering Greg is instructing him and loosening the pressure again.
“Lick your palm,” Greg orders, voice deep and rumbling.
Without thinking, Alex lifts his hand and licks his palm, tasting salt, and sweat, and faintly his own come.
“Pinch one of your nipples on the way down and wrap your fingers harder around yourself.”
Alex does exactly what he’s told, gasping when he pinches a nipple and feels the skittery electric shock sensation shoot straight to his cock. He wraps his fist tightly around his swollen flesh and strokes, showing Greg that he complying.
“Jesus, Alex… I didn’t know it would be like this.” Greg’s voice sounds tinny over the phone’s speaker but Alex can still hear the wonder mixing with the arousal. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” Alex says, without thinking too much about it. “I’m thinking that I want to put my mouth on you.”
Greg gasps in shock, a scandalised, “Alex,” dropping from his lips as if they haven’t already crossed that line tonight.
“Would you let me?” Alex asks, groaning at the thought coupled with the sensation of his own hand on his cock.
“I’d let you do anything,” Greg says, but Alex can’t tell whether he means it, or he’s just so turned on he’ll say anything.
“Add a twist to your wrist on the upstroke and imagine that my hands are all over you.”
Alex does it without hesitation, feeling his balls tighten from the increased friction and the thought of Greg touching him, marking him, claiming him.
“Look at me,” Greg insists, waiting until Alex raises the camera to his face and then with steady eye contact, he says, “if you were here, you would already be on your knees with a face full of my cock.”
A whimper escapes from Alex’s lips without permission.
“I’m going to come,” Greg says suddenly, twisting the camera in time for Alex to see the exact moment Greg orgasms; spurts of pearly fluid landing on Greg’s belly, his top already pushed up out of the way. Greg squeezes harder on the upstroke, Alex can tell, milking the last drops of come out of himself with a shaky exhale.
“Taste it,” Alex dares to say, groaning when Greg swipes a finger through the biggest area of mess and visibly suckles.
“Greg…” is all Alex manages, just about turning the camera in time to catch himself coming, a splash of ejaculate hitting the phone screen. Alex doesn’t wait for Greg to ask him to do the same, sucking the come off his fingers and grimacing despite his best intentions.
“Same,” Greg says, with a sparkly sated grin.
When Alex’s heartbeat returns to it’s normal rhythm, he hears Rachel flush the toilet upstairs. “I have to go,” he tells Greg. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year, baby boy,” Greg says softly, unbearably fond.
Alex finds himself smiling at a blank screen decorated with a drop of his come.