Work Text:
Alex loved recording the shows more than any other part of the process. It was where all his hard work came to fruition, his careful handling of the contestants, his vision, his framing of the tasks, the logistics, it all resulted in putting that look on Greg’s face. He had long since accepted that aside from the creative joy he got from seeing his vision come to life, the look on Greg’s face was his ultimate reward.
Greg was an attractive man, Alex could admit that, but the pull he had over Alex was completely inexplicable even to him. Alex wasn’t sure it was all sexual either. It might be easier if it was. A crush, even one as a middle-aged man for another middle-aged man would be a lot easier to explain than this, the tug he felt every time Greg looked at him, every time he told him to do something in that tone that brooked no arguments. It defied explanation.
The worst bit about it all was that Greg had no idea. At least, Alex didn’t think he had an idea. How could he when Alex wasn’t sure what was going on himself. Perhaps he had an inkling that there was more to the dynamic between them than a cleverly cynical manipulation of the British public’s fascination for homoeroticism, but Alex didn’t think that Greg believed it was personal between them, that it could be sexual.
On the other hand, Alex sometimes caught Greg watching him with a little too much interest for a mere colleague, but he had never given any indication that he felt anything other than mild irritation for Alex, well, that and gratitude for a steady income and a role that he clearly enjoyed.
They were filming another episode, the audience had started to get a little restless as they were running long and there had been a couple of segments that took multiple takes to get right. The Floor Manager was talking to one of the cameramen, gesticulating wildly, before calling a five minute break to sort out a technical issue.
Alex stood up, reaching behind him to turn his mic off. ‘I’m just going to nip to the loo while we’ve got a moment. I shouldn’t have had that second cup of tea,’ he joked, putting down his iPad.
‘No, sit down,’ Greg said firmly, his tone stern but his eyes sparkling with an undercurrent of something mischievous.
Alex’s knees buckled and he was sat back in his seat before he could even justify his actions to himself, before he could analyse fully what Greg intended.
‘I really need to go,’ Alex whispered, wondering if Greg just hadn’t heard him, or realised why he was leaving.
‘I know and you can’t,’ Greg confirmed, voice still firm, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
Swallowing roughly, Alex reached back and turned his mic back on, picking up his iPad and crossing his legs uncomfortably. He had no idea why he hadn’t laughed and told Greg he wasn’t in charge of his peeing schedule and to sod off. It was immaterial now as filming commenced and he tried to put it to the back of his mind.
The rest of the recording dragged on and on with Alex becoming more and more uncomfortable. He squirmed and fidgeted and clenched his muscles so tightly he started to get a stomach ache. Greg behaved exactly as he normally would, joking with Alex and even telling him off for squirming in front of the audience, asking him with a smirk if he had ants in his pants.
Just before the end of the show, when Alex was starting to think he would make it with his dignity mostly intact, Greg made an excuse, reached across, and using the iPad as a shield, pressed the heel of his hand low down on Alex’s stomach.
Alex couldn’t remember what Greg had said in order to touch him, or understand how he didn’t wet himself right there on the stage. The whole world was concentrated to the pain in his bladder, the surrounding noise just a shushing sound, like he was underwater. He couldn’t think of anything else but his distended bladder and his need to pee.
Finally the show was over and Alex didn’t know whether he would be able to get out of the chair without pissing himself. As gently as possible, he eased himself into a standing position, looking no doubt like a heavily pregnant woman struggling to stand. Not bothering to take off his microphone, he waddled to the nearest toilet and went into a cubicle. The relief as he released his bladder was almost sexual. He felt the sudden urge to cry and tears prickled at the back of his eyes.
Opening the cubicle door, Alex wasn’t surprised to see Greg loitering next to the sinks. Without acknowledging him, Alex washed his hands thoroughly contemplating just leaving without saying anything at all to Greg. Before Alex could even dry his hands properly, Greg grabbed him and pushed him back into the cubicle before locking the door behind them. Greg reached around Alex and gently unclipped his mic pack before putting it on the cistern.
‘That’s going to need sanitising,’ Alex remarked, his voice calm but his heart thudding loudly in his ears.
‘Jesus, Alex. Would you do anything I told you to?’ Greg said, wonder lacing his voice and a slight breathless edge to his words.
Alex paused before answering honestly, ‘probably.’
‘But why?’ Greg asked, his hand hovering centimetres above Alex’s chest, his fingers trembling faintly.
Swallowing roughly, Alex looked into Greg’s eyes. ‘I think you know why, Greg,’ he said, moving forward until Greg’s hand was pressed against Alex’s chest.
'Fucking hell,’ Greg whispered, the assuredness coming back to his voice and the wonder replaced with what looked very much to Alex like lust. ‘I’ve never done this before, not with a man, not seriously, I don’t know why I want you so much,’ Greg added, almost to himself.
‘I knew there was something here, between us,’ Alex started, ‘but I didn’t know how you felt, or even why I feel like this…’
Alex was cut off as Greg suddenly leaned forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. Pushing his tongue roughly between Alex’s lips and swallowing the whimper that Alex couldn’t have stopped if he tried.
‘I’m going to make you come but you have to be quiet,’ Greg murmured, turning Alex to face the wall behind the toilet and crowding in tight behind him.
‘Fuck,’ Alex said, dropping his head against Greg’s solid bulk behind him and turning his eyes to the damp ceiling.
Greg dragged his hand roughly down Alex’s body, palming his erection through his suit trousers and using the heel of his hand to push down hard, his other hand braced against Alex’s chest. Feeling like he was trapped between a rock and a hard place with Greg’s hand pushing against his cock and Greg’s erection pressed up against his tailbone, Alex concentrated on staying quiet, his breaths coming in sharp bursts. Greg mouthed at Alex’s throat, nipping gently at the skin, worrying it between his teeth and breathing gusts of hot breath over the sensitive skin.
Whimpering, Alex pleaded, ‘Greg, please…’ not knowing what he was even asking for, squirming under Greg’s firm touch.
Both men heard footsteps right outside the door before the noise of the door opening and closing followed. Greg put his hand over Alex’s mouth but didn’t still his hand, speeding up his movements as Alex writhed. It seemed like forever before they heard the other man leave the room.
As soon as the door closed, Greg removed his hand from Alex’s mouth and whispered against his neck, ‘What do you think that man would think if he could see you now? Being my slut,’ Greg hissed, hard emphasis on the final t in slut.
Alex imagined Greg doing this on the stage, asked himself whether even then he would stop him, or whether he’d just close his eyes and let Greg do whatever he wanted. It was that thought that pushed him over the edge, his body stiffening as white hot pleasure rolled over him.
‘I can’t believe I made you come in your pants’ Greg said after a few moments, pride and a hint of smugness in his words.
Alex could feel that Greg was still hard against him. ‘Are you going to…’ Alex didn’t quite know how to finish the sentence.
Greg chuckled, ‘Alex as much as I wanted to do this with you, I’m an old man, I haven’t come in my pants for about 20 years. I’m looking forward to imagining how you’re going to make that happen though,’ he said cheekily, a smile in his voice.
Alex turned around, picking up the mic pack and pecking Greg on the lips. ‘I’ll work on it,’ Alex promised, unlocking the door and pulling it open.
Andy was stood on the other side of the cubicle door with a complicated expression on his face. ‘You didn’t turn off the mic,’ he said, reaching out to take it from Alex’s hand before turning and walking back out of the room.
There was a few beats of silence before Alex regained the power of speech. ‘You fucking idiot,’ he said, his skin flushing pink, his ears flaming red beacons of embarrassment. ‘You didn’t turn off the mic. Fuck.’
Greg looked sheepish, knowing that this was going to come back to bite them.
‘Oh god,’ Alex muttered, his head in his hands, imagining all the ways that this was going to make his life more difficult.
After a few moments, both men looked at each other and great guffaws of laughter erupted. Tears streamed down Alex’s cheeks as he struggled to breathe. ‘You called me a slut. You know I’m going to get ‘slut’ mugs put on my desk, don’t you?’
‘You loved it,” Greg said with a grin, not looking in the least ashamed or embarrassed. ‘Let them bring it on.’ Greg paused thoughtfully before grinning cheekily. ‘I’m also looking forward to coming in my pants next time, or making you piss yourself in public, whichever comes first.’
Alex grinned and imagined the possibilities as they walked out of the toilets together.