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The Taming of the Beast

Summary:

When Greg flies into a fit of writer’s block-induced rage, Alex proposes a novel way to relieve his tension.

Notes:

Thank you so much to all the lovely people who encouraged me to give this a go!

And an extra special thank you to thenaturalfriends for beta reading. Without your invaluable feedback and suggestions, this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“FUCK!”

Greg’s furious roar is accompanied by glass shattering against a wall.

Alex winces and shoots a glance towards the study. He knows Greg can get like this when he's writing, but he’s never witnessed it first-hand. He sighs wearily, putting his book aside and hoisting himself up from the couch to investigate.

Greg’s symphony of self-flagellation rings through the flat as Alex approaches.

“YOU CUNT!”

A loud thud.

“FUCKING USELESS PRICK!”

A metallic crash.

“ABSOLUTE WASTE OF-”

Alex eases the study door open, keeping his body behind it in an effort to shield himself from any incoming projectiles.

“Greg?”

Greg cuts himself off mid-sentence. Alex hears the sound of a heavy object being placed down on the floor.

“Shit, Alex, sorry. I forgot you were home. ”

Alex lets the door swing open to reveal Greg standing amongst the carnage he's created. Red-faced and sweaty, he's still trembling with rage but appears to be making a concerted effort to calm himself down in Alex’s presence. “Sorry.” he says again, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Promised myself I wouldn't let you see this when you moved in here. Didn't take long, did it?”

“S’alright,” Alex gingerly steps over broken glass and makes his way to Greg, placing a gentle hand on his bicep “I wish you wouldn't shout at my favourite person like that, though.”

Greg scoffs at this and turns away, eyeing his laptop resentfully. “I just want so badly for it to be good. But I can’t get all the pieces to fit together properly… I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

Alex looks around the room, surveying the casualties. The shattered remains of a pint glass, the mangled carcass of a pedestal fan, the spilled guts of a toppled houseplant.

“So it’s a case of breaking everything in the flat until you can come up with a coherent narrative, is it?” Greg stares daggers at him, and Alex cringes, he hadn't intended that to sound quite so judgmental. He scrambles to recover, “Hey…um…here’s an idea, how about you break me instead?”

“Alex…”

He’d initially intended on coaxing Greg out of his study with the promise of a cuppa and a Caramac, but now that he thinks about it, a little scene might be just what Greg needs to decompress.

“Come on, take it out on me. Use me, that's what I'm here for isn't it? What if we try that new paddle you bought me for Christmas? The one with all the little holes in? It looks really painful, I bet it'd be so cathartic for you to -”

Before Alex knows what's hit him, Greg has him up against the wall. One huge hand closes around Alex’s throat while the other pins his wrists above his head. Greg drops his forehead against Alex’s, his eyes ablaze. Alex isn't sure how long they stay suspended like this, but just as he feels himself sinking into the warm embrace of total submission, a pained expression flashes across Greg’s face, he abruptly releases Alex and backpedals across the room.

“Sorry, I don't… I can’t do it. Not when I’m all wound up like this.”

Alex scrunches his face, disoriented by the whiplash. “But…wouldn't it help you unwind? You certainly sounded like you were in the mood to inflict some pain before I came in here.”

“No, well yes…but that’s the…” Greg tries to find the words, “I mean I am genuinely furious. But there's something about hurting you when I’m angry, actually angry, that just feels…wrong?”

“Is it…are you worried about going too far or something? Because I trust you, and you know I'll call red if I need to. I just think - ”

“I mean it, Alex, it’s not happening. Look, I’m sorry I got you all excited okay? And I'm sorry you had to witness my little tantrum.” Greg scrubs a hand across his beard and sighs. “Maybe just leave me alone for a bit, yeah? Let me get myself sorted…I’ll rough you up another day. I just…I never want it to come from a place of anger. It's not right.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. He appreciates how responsible Greg is being, how he's so sensitive and caring even when he's at his lowest. But Alex would walk through fire for him, and being held back from the flames makes him feel utterly useless. He can't bear to see Greg so upset, so down on himself. He racks his brain for some other way to help.

“What if…and I absolutely will leave you alone now if you’re not interested…what if we tried it the other way around?”

Greg sighs impatiently. “Tried what the other way ‘round?”

“The um…the ‘roughing up’?” Alex says, over-enunciating the last two words.

“You want to rough ME up?” Greg huffs out a laugh.

“Have you ever considered that it might feel nice? To let go?”

Greg raises an eyebrow, and Alex presses on, “You’d be amazed at what a stress reliever it can be. I could make you forget what you were even angry about… might even make you forget your own name.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought, love, but I don't think you've got it in you.”

Alex hooks one finger under the neck of Greg's t-shirt, pulling him away from the field of broken glass and herding him out into the hall. Alex’s cheeky gap-tooth smile vanishes and his kind blue eyes narrow. “Sometimes I think you forget I’m technically your boss, Greg. You’re only cruel to me on the show because I ask you to be. Because I've written you that way.” Alex has dropped his voice to a lower register, exuding a chilly, quiet confidence. “When we’re alone, you spank me because I beg for it, you humiliate me because you know how much it turns me on. And I can end it all in an instant with a single word. Do you really think you wield all the power?”

A nervous chuckle escapes Greg's throat. “Alright…go on then, you can have a crack at it, but I still don't think-”

“Get on your knees, Greg”

It's as if a switch flips in Greg’s head, suddenly he's on the floor, his face buried in Alex’s thigh, his hands grasping at the fabric of his jeans. Alex runs his fingers through Greg’s soft ivory hair. His touch is gentle initially, but then his hand tightens into a fist, yanking Greg’s head back to meet his gaze. Alex brings his other hand down to roughly cup the side of Greg’s face, raking a thumb across his lips and forcing it inside his mouth.

“God, look at you,” Alex marvels as Greg sucks his thumb, “So easy, I knew it.”

Greg reaches for the fly of Alex’s jeans, and Alex slaps his hand away. He takes a step back, and Greg topples forward precariously before righting himself.

“Did I say you could have my cock?” Alex asks.

“No, I just thought…”

“I’ve got something else in mind for you. Just wanted to prove my point first. Come on, up you pop.”

Greg groans as he hoists himself to his feet, old joints creaking in protest. Alex turns on his heel and strides primly toward their bedroom, knowing Greg will obediently follow.

“Strip, please, Greg. Kneel on the bed facing the headboard, eyes front, hands behind your back.”

Alex busies himself around the room while Greg undresses. He adjusts the lighting to a soft, warm glow, retrieves a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, and grabs a soft navy flannel from their ensuite.

By the time Greg is in position on the bed, Alex is rummaging through the large oak toy chest that occupies the foot of it. He produces the vicious-looking paddle he mentioned earlier and then thinks better of it, settling instead on a weighty suede flogger. He places it behind Greg on the bed, along with a stainless steel butt plug and a pair of leather handcuffs.

“Anything you’re not comfortable with?” Alex asks as he carefully removes Greg’s glasses and places them on the bedside table.

“Um…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do to you, and we should be good, I think.”

Alex hums. That doesn't rule much out. “Just remember to use the traffic lights if you need to, okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Greg says, a hint of impatience colouring his voice. He shifts back and forth on his knees restlessly. Whatever spell Alex had him under a few minutes ago seems to be wearing off.

“Come on, Horne, are we doing this, or are you all talk?”

Alex considers him for a moment, then leans down and kisses him tenderly on the forehead. He takes Greg’s chin in his hand, looks into his eyes and murmurs, “I’ll let you have that one, but if you speak out of turn again, I'll make you regret it.”

And that does it - Greg’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out a shuddering breath. Alex drops his hand from Greg's jaw and climbs on the bed to kneel behind him. He fastens the handcuffs around Greg’s wrists, slipping a long finger under each side to ensure they don’t cut off circulation.

Greg is sitting on his heels, so Alex draws himself up on his knees, seizing a rare opportunity to make Greg feel smaller than him. He presses himself up against Greg’s back, rough clothing against bare skin a potent reminder of Greg’s vulnerability, of Alex’s power.

Alex descends on Greg’s neck with a wet open-mouth kiss, sinking his teeth in and sucking a bruise into his flesh. Greg gasps and lets his head fall back on Alex’s shoulder. Alex continues to nip at Greg’s throat as his hands roam over the pillowy expanse of Greg's chest and belly, scratching and groping and rubbing lecherously. He pinches one nipple, then the other, twisting until he earns a sharp hiss in response. “I'm going to take you apart,” he whispers hot against Greg’s ear, reaching down to give his growing erection a possessive squeeze. Greg whimpers as Alex releases his cock and places a firm hand between his shoulder blades, gently pushing him forward until he’s kneeling with his arse in the air and his face pressed into the mattress.

Alex flicks open the bottle of lube, upending it and dispensing a dollop of the silky liquid directly onto Greg’s exposed hole. He applies a liberal coating to the plug, and Greg lets out a startled gasp when Alex slides the cold metal down his crack and presses it against his entrance.

“You’re getting fucked later, and it won’t be gentle. Need you prepped for it.” Alex explains, his tone still incongruously soft.

“Christ Alex…fuck.”

“Shhh. Just relax for me.”

Alex carefully pushes the tip of the slicked-up plug inside, inching forward until, at the halfway point, Greg’s body tenses, his breath hitching. “Colour?” Alex pauses to place a reassuring hand on Greg’s back. “Green,” he rasps, but Alex waits until Greg’s breathing steadies before he slowly eases the rest of the plug inside. “Good.” He soothes, “Good boy”.

He rubs circles on Greg's arse, lazily dragging his slender fingers over the curve of his cheeks and along the back of his thighs. Greg relaxes into his touch, the tension melting from his body. Then, without warning, Alex delivers a sharp smack to Greg's right arse cheek. Greg yelps in surprise but rocks back into his palm, chasing the sensation.

“I want you to count out each strike for me”, Alex hits him again, “up to thirty.”

He brings his hand down hard on Greg's left cheek, then his right thigh in quick succession.

“F-Four” Greg pants out.

Two more smacks.

“Five…Ah fuck!...Six.”

Alex spanks him with ruthless efficiency, twice on the left cheek, once on the right, attacking Greg’s thighs and then returning to his arse. Each strike is tightly controlled and precisely aimed, but the barrage is overwhelming. “How many?” Alex demands, pausing his rapid-fire assault to massage the bright pink marks emerging on Greg’s tender flesh.

“Si-Sixteen? No, Seventeen…I, I don't-”

Alex hits him again, harder this time. His hand stinging from the impact.

“I'm afraid that’s incorrect, Greg. We’ll have to start again”.

Back to square one, Alex maintains the same intensity but slows down enough to ensure Greg has a fighting chance of keeping count. By the time they reach thirty, Greg is trembling and whimpering under him, his face wet with tears.

Concern rises in Alex’s chest, he worries he's gone too hard, too fast. “Alright?” He asks, gently squeezing Greg’s cuffed hand.

“Green” Greg whines into the mattress. “More…”

“Oh. Good boy.” says Alex, relief and pride washing over him. “Shall we try the flogger now?”

“Yes please.”

Alex gently tugs at Greg’s ankles, encouraging him to extend his legs so that he’s lying prone. Greg exhales gratefully as the pressure is relieved from his knees and shoulders. He slumps down onto the bed, looking remarkably content for a man with a flaming red arse and his hands bound behind his back.

Alex grabs the flogger and springs up to stand at the bedside for a better angle. He turns the handle over in his hands a few times and gives it an experimental swing. It would come as a shock to most people, but Alex can wield a flogger with the best of them. Or at least he used to be able to: he's terribly out of practice now. With Greg, he’d defaulted to a submissive role as naturally as breathing, and it had never occurred to either of them to change things up until now. Despite having been on the other side of it for so long, the flogger feels right in his hand now, like an old friend.

He drags the wide suede tails from Greg’s shoulders down his back, trailing them down the curve of his arse to brush threateningly against his balls. Greg squirms and flinches as the suede tickles his sensitive inflamed skin. Alex begins rotating his wrist to bring the tails down in a smooth rhythmic figure eight motion across Greg’s back and arse, caressing rather than striking, just warming up.

“No counting this time, I just want you to focus on the sensation”. Alex instructs as he draws the handle back.

Greg’s whole body lurches forward as the flogger comes down hard on the centre of his arse. As Alex builds to a slow rhythmic beating, Greg’s grunts and jolts remind him of why this has always been one of his favourite toys. It instills a deep resonant ache, a pleasant throb that goes right to the core, and the sensitivity of Greg’s spanked-raw skin must imbue each dull thump with a warm bite.

Greg draws a sharp intake of breath as another strike lands across his thighs. “This is going to leave such pretty marks, Greg.” Alex muses, a loud thwack ringing out as he brings the flogger down again. “When you do this to me, I can’t stay away from the mirror afterwards, always sneaking off to take my trousers down and admire the bruises. Do you think you’ll do the same?” Greg just groans in response. He’s writhing now, his wrists twisting uselessly in their restraints, fists clenching and unclenching.

Alex turns his attention higher, bringing the tails down on Greg’s broad shoulders. He watches transfixed as the muscles in Greg's upper back flex, a rich cherry blossom hue blooming across his pale skin in the wake of the flogger’s licks.

Greg twists his head back as far as he can manage to gaze at Alex with shining pupil-blown eyes. He’s a beautiful mess, dishevelled silver hair falling against his flushed face, his expression somewhere between tortured and blissful. “Alex” Greg pleads, his voice desperate and raw and broken. “Fuck me”.

Alex considers admonishing Greg for being so demanding, for speaking out of turn, but his cock is straining so painfully in his jeans that he can’t bear to draw this out much longer anyway. He forces himself to play it cool.

“You’ll have to ask me nicely, Greg.”

“Please!” Greg lets out a chocked-off sob, “Please fuck me.”

“That's better. Good boy.”

Alex tosses the flogger aside and tears off his t-Shirt. He fumbles his jeans down, and in his frantic, lust-driven haste he trips himself up on one of the legs, hopping gracelessly on the spot before he recovers. He giggles to himself silently, certain that his awkward little dance would have shattered the illusion of his authority if Greg didn’t have his face buried in the mattress right now.

His amusement turns to desire when he notices the state Greg is in. Sweaty, panting, and marked up, he looks utterly wrecked. He’s shallowly thrusting his hips against the bed, desperately chasing friction against his cock between his belly and the sheets.

Alex’s mouth drops open at the sight, his hand going straight to his cock of its own accord. He stands there mesmerised, absently palming himself through his pink pants, when a soft whimper from Greg snaps him back to reality. He pulls his hand away, refocusing on the task at hand.

“Come on, none of that.” He commands softly. “Get your arse back up for me and spread your legs.” Greg complies, grunting with exertion as he hauls his knees up underneath himself, pressing a shoulder into the bed for leverage. He shuffles his knees apart slightly and turns his head to the side just in time to see Alex pulling his pants down, his aching cock springing free and bouncing obscenely against his auburn pubic hair.

Alex kneels on the bed behind Greg and lubes himself up, stroking his dick languidly as he watches Greg tremble with anticipation beneath him. With one steadying hand on Greg’s hip, Alex slowly removes the plug, inspecting his hole in its absence. “All nice and open for me…that's lovely.”

Alex eases his cock inside Greg, pushing forward torturously slowly until he’s buried to the hilt. His first few thrusts are agonisingly deliberate, but he soon launches into a punishing pace, pistoning into Greg with enough force to knock their sturdy bed frame against the wall. Alex has a white-knuckled grip on Greg’s left hip; his other hand is braced against the back of Greg’s head, holding him down. Each animalistic thrust tears a deep guttural moan from Greg’s throat as Alex slams against his prostate.

“Oh god, Alex…fuck…harder. Nnggh….” Greg’s shameless, desperate pleas spur Alex on, extinguishing any doubt that Greg can take this, that he needs this.

Alex feels his orgasm building but he forces it down, resolving himself to delay his release until he accomplishes his goal. Alex is determined to fuck him into oblivion, to exorcise every ounce of frustration and self-doubt from Greg with his cock.

Greg lets out a thunderous moan and Alex feels Greg’s hole spasm tightly around his dick, pulsing erratically. “Fuuuck” Alex breathes, the realisation that Greg has come untouched pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

“God, you’re such a slut” Alex pants “Haven’t even touched you and look at the mess you’ve made.”

Alex releases his hold on the back of Greg’s head to grasp his hips with both hands, seeking more leverage as he increases his already brutal pace. He feels Greg’s body starting to go slack beneath him, and when his head lolls to the side, Alex finally sees what he's been looking for in Greg’s vacant, blissed-out expression. It’s as if he’s in a hypnotic state, transported somewhere else. Alex knows from experience that Greg is floating in a dark void now, consumed by sensation, enveloped by a euphoric fuzzy warmth, head empty, body spent.

The image of his magnificent beast completely undone before him, because of him, sends Alex tumbling over the edge. His hips stutter and he comes inside Greg with a ragged shout.

Alex collapses against Greg's sweat-soaked back, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He only allows himself a few moments to recover before he pulls out and rushes to release Greg’s wrists. When Alex removes the restraints, Greg’s arms flop limply against the bed, his strings cut.

With one hand on Greg’s shoulder and the other on his hip, Alex hauls the deadweight of Greg’s massive frame over so that he’s lying on his back. Greg blinks up at him in a daze, his blue-grey eyes glassy and sated. “Hi.” Alex says sheepishly, all pretence of authority evaporated. He cups Greg’s cheek in his hand, wiping away a tear “You okay?”.

“I’m…wow” Greg slurs.

Alex can't help himself, “Hi Wow, I'm Alex” he grins.

Even from the depths of his post-coital stupor, Greg somehow still has the presence of mind to groan in disgust at Alex’s terrible joke.

Alex swings a leg over Greg’s waist and settles in his lap, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “You did so well” Alex whispers as he gently kneads at the strained muscles of Greg’s neck and shoulders. “I love you so much” he says, massaging the cuff marks on Greg’s wrists, bringing them to his lips, then trailing kisses along the palms of his hands and over his fingertips. Alex climbs off Greg and retrieves the flannel, murmuring praise and nonsense as he lovingly cleanses Greg’s body.

Greg seems to be emerging from the haze now, his eyes are clear as he stirs and stretches, looking down to find himself in a slightly awkward position. His neck is in desperate need of support, his lower legs are dangling off the end of the bed, and he’s lying dangerously close to the wet patch on the sheets. Alex gently tugs at his shoulder, “Come on love, let’s get you more comfortable.”

Greg sighs theatrically but summons the energy to drag himself up and across the bed, throwing his head back against the pillows with a satisfied grunt. He turns on his side and looks over his shoulder at Alex, a not-so-subtle hint that he wants to be the ‘little’ spoon tonight. Alex flashes him a gappy smile and scrambles up beside him. He hesitates, brushing his fingertips over the map of vivid pink marks that decorate the back of Greg’s body. “I should rub some aloe on these,” he moves to get up. “No!” Greg says, almost panicked, he grabs Alex’s arm and yanks it down and around his body, forcing Alex to embrace him. “You can break out your little first aid kit tomorrow, right now I need a bloody cuddle”.

“But whenever you do this to me you always say how important the lotion -”

“Scene’s over baby boy” Greg interrupts. “you’re not calling the shots anymore.” He gives Alex’s arm another tug. Alex sighs in resignation and cocoons himself around Greg, burying his face in the crook of his neck and weaving their legs together. He takes Greg’s hand in his and pulls their interlaced fingers tight against Greg’s chest.

“So are you feeling better?” he mumbles into Greg’s shoulder.

“Feel incredible. Thank you…I mean, I feel like I’ve been mowed down by a fucking lorry, but…in a good way?”

“Hmm…good. Exactly what I was aiming for.”

Alex squeezes Greg's hand and peppers kisses against the nape of his neck.

“I can't believe Little Alex Horne called me a slut!” Greg chuckles. “I’d never have thought you capable of spouting such filth.”

Alex feels his ears burning. “Um…Heat of the moment?”

“Yeah, I'll say.” Greg muses, “Honestly, I think you enjoyed this whole experiment a little too much”.

“Didn't mind it…For something different,” Alex admits. “I seem to recall you quite enjoying yourself too.” He nips playfully at Greg’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well don't let it go to your head, I’ll be putting you back in your place tomorrow.”

“I doubt you'll be up to anything that strenuous for a while, grandad.”

Greg twists his head back towards Alex, incredulous “Oi, I'll fuck you up mate, just wait and see.”

“If you say so” Alex smiles against Greg’s neck, planting more gentle kisses there.

“Seriously though, love, thank you for this. I uh…I didn't know how much I needed it.”

“It was my pleasure” says Alex, pulling Greg tighter against his chest, revelling in his warmth.

They settle into a comfortable silence. Alex absently runs his fingers over Greg’s fine chest hair, feeling his breathing slow.

“Greg?”

“Mm?”

“You know you're the funniest person I’ve ever met, don't you? I don't think I say that enough. You're so brilliant. I'm sure you'll figure everything out.”

“Figure what out?” Greg slurs as he drifts off.

Early the next morning, Alex awakes to the sound of enthusiastic keystrokes emanating from Greg’s study, he smiles to himself and slips back into a blissful sleep.

Notes:

This fic was inspired by the many interviews in which Greg describes having writing-induced meltdowns. He brought this up most recently in his excellent epsiode of Desert Island Discs:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001z63k