(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

he’s lying on the impossibly-soft hotel bed, which also happens to be impossibly enormous and impossibly white, and listening to his completely wonderful and magnificent lack of thoughts which comes from being thoroughly beaten and ending it with a good orgasm. even if it’s only for ten or twenty minutes, it’s incredible to think about nothing. the one thing in his brain is the sore heat of his back and the ache in his thighs. he wonders if this is how other people are, most of the time.

washington’s padding around the hotel room. alex can hear him, if he tries. feet on the bathroom tile. the sound of a man taking a piss. toilet flush. sink on, sink off. carpeted, dulled steps. the zipper of something - maybe a bag or a briefcase. then the bed dips with washington’s weight, and a powerful hand is drawing up alex’s thigh, over the curve of his reddened ass.

alex sighs, the post-pleasure hormones relaxing him.

“hi,” he says, into the pillow. washington grunts a response. always eloquent, his boss. he turns his head, takes in the dark, naked form. the permanently blank, thoughtful expression. penetrating. alex shivers, feels the beginning of pleasure stir in his stomach. he wonders if he can convince washington into another round.

washington’s fingers tease over his hole, already slick with come and lube. it will be very easy to convince him, alex thinks. he moans, needy. washington likes it when he’s needy, and he, of course, very much enjoys being needy. washington pushes a finger into him, and it feels good even though he’s used.

“can you get it up again?” alex says, into the pillow, as washington slides his finger in and out, and it’s not enough. he pushes back, but Washington’s other hand holds him down, makes him settle for what he’s being given. He likes being made to take it.

“stay,” washington says, instead of answering. alex says, because washington doesn’t always give him a second round, and the last thing he wants now, half-aroused, is for his boss to pout off.

alex puts his face in the pillow, shifts himself around so he can breathe. but the darkness is good, and the mystery is deliciously intense, and the pillow is really fucking soft.

“oh fuck,” he says, into the bed, as washington presses something into him. round and cold. a bead, and then a second. alex lifts himself onto his knees with some effort. washington lets him, presses a bigger bead into him, his body aching and taking it and it’s good, to have this inside of him, that shifts when he shifts. he thinks about reaching for his cock and doesn’t. “fuck, yes.”

washington slides every bead on the line into him, merciless, without waiting. he squirms, and he’s so fucking full, and he can feel the beads inside him. washington tugs on the edge of the line, just a little, and alex wails.

then washington’s weight leaves the bed and alex looks over his shoulder, sees the man disappearing off into the bathroom, hears the shower turn on.

“fucking asshole,” alex mutters, and he pulls himself to the edge of the bed, every movement hot and achey. walking is out. but he could crawl. so he does, and then drapes himself over the side of the hotel tub.

Washington looks down at him like he’s nothing, and alex groans. “you forgot about me,” he says. washington turns off the shower and steps out of the tub. he towels himself off, and wraps a towel around his waist.

“you’d never let that happen,” washington says, mildly. alex chuckles, but it’s half-hearted because he wants so much. he crawls over, and manages himself into a kneeling position, and rests his head on washington’s knee, which washington surprisingly allows. alex closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the man, hotel shampoo and skin and the hotel towel. washington’s hand slides through his hair and gives it a tug. alex thinks he might actually be able to think about nothing, surrounded by his boss like this, in his control. it’s incredible to think about nothing.