(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

“Don’t pussyfoot around. I want it to hurt.”


There were many ways that Alex admired his boss’s strength. He was fearless and courageous in meetings, and he had a brilliant streak that seemed like a well he could always go back to. He had a way of drawing ideas from those around him, and the right way to present them to those who needed to hear it. He saw the mote of genius in everything. Bu that, of course, was not the only strength that he admired. The suits Washington wore tampered away his strength, becuase you of courrse not nt be black and strong, not in a world like this one. But when Washington took his jacket off and curled up his sleeves, Alex saw the power there and he ached for it on every level of his being.


They were in a rare moment of sense and sexuality, which between the two of them was quite unusual. Washington was feeling the weight and balance of the crop in his hand, testing it like he would a sword. Alex was shirtless and staring at the wall, shivering and feeling that delightful wait-don’t-wait-need lust that burned in him. It was better when he waited, but oh, he wanted.


“It’s not a scepter,” he said to the wall, “You hit me with it.”

Washington ignored him, of course. Alex waited and shivered. Washington made a thoughtful noise and snapped his wrist.


“Christ,” Alex said to the wall, “What kind of shit was that? What are you, weak?”


Oh, he could play Washington like a fiddle. The next one was better and nearly staggered him. perfect.