Work Text:
"-but if you know a Madeline Williams who keeps you giggling all day long,and she went to Monroe Middle School in Columbus, Ohio, tell her I say hi. And that I hope every wish she ever had came true."
Alfred finished recording, setting his phone down for a moment and staring ahead as his memories continued to swirl. The painful nostalgia of early junior high left uncomfortable tremors in his hands. He wondered briefly if he'd need to rerecord, if his shaking would be evident in the video. He probably should have opted not to handhold it for that particular TikTok, but it had felt like the story had required an element of personalization, of handheld authenticity.
And maybe he'd thought if he recorded it exactly right, somehow the algorithm really would pick up the message, carry it across time and space in such a way that she'd actually see it. That she'd actually remember him, the weird too-loud kid with the gapped teeth and the dimples, squinting because his need for glasses was still being overlooked while the family grappled with his mother's chemotherapy appointments instead. As with all things, after all, it had worked out in the end. He'd gotten glasses and braces after a distant cousin ended up getting custody of him after it was all said and done, and he'd switched schools, and surely in his heart of hearts he knew that even if that girl still held memories of their jokes in class, she wouldn't piece together the memories of what he was then with who he was now.
But sometimes it was just nice to reminisce, even if he understood it wouldn't go anywhere.
With his hands steady again, and his mind resolved with the realism that ultimately this was just good for his digital image and, really, wouldn't amount to anything more than some ad revenue for his bank account, Alfred picked up his phone again to go through the final details before he sent his message off to his viewers' For You pages.
***
Alfred had spent a good 2 hours going back and forth on whether or not to wear a jacket for tonight. Pacing back and forth, back and forth, putting the jacket on over his fitted black shirt, then stripping it back off, then back on.
Then back to the closet for a different jacket. Pose. Shake of the head. Changing to something else. Rinse. Repeat.
Round and round, until he was going out the door, jacketless, only to double back inside. He grabbed the vintage bomber jacket from the back of his chair, hugging it to his chest for a moment of comfort, familiarity.
He slipped it onto his body, toying with the zipper. A new source of uncertainty: up, down, half up, then teasing the distance from there. Up up down down, like he was trying to access a retro cheat code on an old videogame console.
Dark jeans, jacket zipped just right, and freshly broken in Berluti loafers, he felt appropriately main romantic lead character'd. Which probably wasn't the vibe he should have been going for, considering this was just a meeting between old friends.
He smiled to himself, slipping his phone into his pocket. There was something giddy and secretive almost about getting ready without making content of it. This was something just for him. Just for something between him and Madeline Williams.
He still couldn't believe she'd let herself be found.
Leaving the hotel, he got into his rental car and began to drive down the streets of Chester, Pennsylvania. Truth be told, he was surprised that not only did she still live in the US, but that she was on the east coast. From the moment he'd been messaged on Instagram by the profile picture-free account that she'd insisted had been the girl he'd gone to school with, he'd run through everything he could remember about Maddie.
She used to carry around a teddy bear. It had been starkly white, always impeccably clean, and if he really took the time to think about it, outside of himself, Alfred couldn't remember her ever sitting with anyone else. Just her and her age-inappropriate stuffed toy. For some reason, at the time he hadn't thought that it was odd, but maybe he'd just been too charmed to think too hard about it (or maybe he'd been too broken to question anyone else needing comfort in a painful world too).
The teachers would often scold her for mumbling. For speaking too quietly. For not articulating her points well. He could remember often how they'd snap at her to speak up. Funnily enough, he'd often trigger the opposite reaction in their educators, screamed at to stop talking, to just shut up, just shut the fuck UP-
Thinking about school too much was hard.
But the idea of seeing her again was so enticing that he kept picking at the scabs in his mind all the same.
She used pancakes as bread for her sandwiches that she hand packed for her school lunches, no matter what she put as the ingredients on the inside.
Her favorite color was periwinkle. She kept a lucky nub of one of those crayons in her pencil case at all times 'just in case'.
Her favorite animal, fittingly (given her only other 'friend'), was the polar bear, but she also really liked whales. He'd nearly forgotten that until just the night before, lying in his hotel room. They hadn't met in middle school after all, now that he thought about it. They'd been in the same 5th grade class too, before he'd hit his first major growth spurt. They used to play whales together, a pod of two. He'd had to teach her that orcas weren't really whales at all, and she'd argued that of course they were whales or else they wouldn't be called killer whales. He'd countered that they were technically in the same family as dolphins, and you could tell because of the teeth, the social pods, the head shape. And she'd counter argued with the sophisticated point that orcas were huge as hell. It had been such a foundational days long fight, in fact, that Alfred was a little amused looking back on it that he'd managed to forget most of it until now.
"Hey Siri," Alfred said, digging his phone out of his pocket as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant she'd told him to meet at. "Are orcas whales or dolphins?"
As it turned out, at least according to his phone's intelligence systems, orcas were technically both.
He laughed to himself, wondering if he ought to bring that up to Maddie or if it would be too weird. He sent a quick text to the number she'd provided, letting her know he was going to grab them a table inside, before he stepped out of the car, locked it, and walked through the doors of the quaint brownstone building.
"Table for two, please?" He asked, letting the host take him to a table, as he went back to cataloguing what he knew of Madeline.
Polar bears. Whales. Walruses. Cheetahs. She'd really liked cheetahs, he remembered that now too, how off brand that was compared to her other interests in animals.
"I'm like the cheetah in our friendship, and you're the emotional support doggy they put into my cage to keep me company," She'd remarked, with variations on the sentiment being expressed more than once. At the time, it had been confusing. Looking back, it was endearing. Regardless, it had often made him laugh, or at least it would when she stretched the absurdity of the metaphor.
And that was the ultimate point.
She was funny.
She was ridiculously, side splittingly, mesmerizingly funny.
Especially at a time in Alfred's life when everything else was mind-destroyingly tragic.
Alfred sat at the table, facing the door. He resisted the urge to pull out his phone. His foot tapped slightly, but he forced it to still. Any moment, she could show up, and he didn't want her to get the impression that he was uneasy.
A server came over, filling a glass of water for him. He smiled, offered his gratitude, then immediately looked to the door again. The likelihood that he'd been tricked was ever-present.
But she didn't leave him waiting nearly as long as he'd thought she would.
The doors opened.
He recognized her immediately. There wasn't even a second of hesitation. It wasn't that she looked like a little girl by any means.
But she absolutely looked like home. Home in the most positive sense of the word, home in the way that his actual home hadn't been allowed to remain. Home, the last sliver he could ever hope to inhabit again.
Maddie moved in though the doors, stopping at the hostess stand. He took in the sight of her before he could even signal where he was, absolutely thrown back by the familiarity, and the thrilling differences of age too.
She'd worn pigtails often as a child. Her hair was different now, still the same honey blonde, but the curls had been stylized, enhanced, carefully coiffed into a bun. Dainty, but with just the slightest air of chaos. A few curls framed her face, her eyes large, vibrantly indigo, and if he hadn't known her as a child he would have assumed they were artificially hued. Her glasses were round, a little oversized, and he watched as she pushed them back into place, surprisingly childish despite how sophisticated she seemed otherwise. Her dress was red, well fitted to her chest, flaring out daintily, femininely, to perfect her silhouette.
Her shoes were awful in comparison. Simple black flats. He kept his expression composed, quickly looking away from them. Everything else was perfect, really, and he knew that he likely should have gone jacketless after all, so who was he to critique someone's style choices at a time like this?
Mostly, it was just comforting to find a single point of imperfection in an otherwise impeccable being.
Her hands moved elegantly over the wheels of her chair, her gaze drifting from the hostess as she gestured to the appropriate table. Her eyes flickered over Alfred, a blink of long lashes behind her lenses, and then her pink lips turned into a tentative smile. Her wheelchair glided forward as she guided herself towards the table.
Alfred was already instinctively standing as she approached. Except he realized as he did so that he had no idea what to say to her now. It seemed imperative to say the right thing, but even as he realized he was in trouble, short on wit, she was already there, looking up at him.
"Alfred Jones, you are unbearably beautiful," Maddie said. Her smile had grown a little more confident, and that much more gorgeous. She adjusted her glasses again, and then held out her arms. They trembled just slightly, and he wondered, perhaps, if she might be just as nervous as he was. If she was, she still managed to say, "You'd better hug me, considering how hard you fought to track me down."
The tone was teasing and gentle at the same time.
Alfred stooped down, wrapping his arms around her body. He tried to hug her like a friend.
She smelled like cinnamon sugar and he was struck by the intrusive desire to lick her neck. He resisted, of course. She hugged him back, straining up against her chair to meet his touch.
If he hugged for too long, she did nothing to resist him.
Her body was warm and small and felt so safe to him that he wanted to curl up into her lap and remain hers forever. It was a terrifying prospect, not to realize all these years he'd apparently been harboring some sort of schoolboy crush, but to grapple with how utterly pitiful he truly was.
"You smell nice," She said, as if she wasn't the one being downright edible. "Who are you wearing?" She paused, then laughed a little, "I think that's how you ask, right? About cologne?"
He pulled back, only because it was impossible to think and resist his mouth-urges at the same time. He laughed a little, his head still dizzy from her. "I think this one is Valentino, maybe? I'm not sure. It could just be my deodorant though, honestly."
Why would he say that? Now she was going to be thinking about his armpits or something. Girls didn't want to think about a guy's sweaty armpits! He was blowing it already.
She laughed. It was an older laugh than how she'd sounded back in middle school, yes, but it was still cute, sweet, intoxicating even. She'd always made him laugh so much, he'd nearly forgotten how exciting it was to make her laugh too.
"You should sit down, it makes me nervous when you bipeds tower over me," She teased.
He took a seat, as a server came by to move the extra chair from the table to allow her to slide up to sit before the table herself. As she did so, the server filled her water glass as well. She rested her hands against the table daintily.
"Is that, like, some sort of new slur?" He asked.
"Yeah, I'm work-shopping it. There's a whole new world of hate out there, I'm just trying to figure out the right way to throw it back at you ableds."
"Another slur?"
"Eh, that one's more of just a descriptor I think." She reached out, grabbing her glass with her left hand and taking a drink. He watched her lips against the rim of the glass.
And then looked at her hand, her ring finger, and the diamond solitaire glimmering back at him.
His heart sank. The tone of his voice hitched an octave despite his attempt to sound casual.
"Sooo…is it Miss or Mrs. now?" His eyes flickered back to the ring pointedly.
She finished her drink, setting her glass down, her smile unwavering. "Actually, it's Doctor."
The reply could have been a joke. Except he couldn't find amusement in her eyes, but rather a sense of pride.
"Doctor…like a medical doctor?"
"I have my PhD in Human Sexuality Studies."
He laughed.
She did not.
His laugh tapered off and this time he grabbed his glass, taking a long drink. He waited for her to clarify, but she just stared at him.
"You're serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're a…you're some kind of sex doctor?"
He was still pleased to earn a laugh from her.
"Actually, sort of? I opted to specialized in sex therapy. Which is funny, I was originally going to go into public policy instead, and I suppose down the line I still have that option, it's not as though any doors are fully closed. But Ivan was right when he told me that with my undergrad focus on psychology, diving into the therapeutic path just sort of made the most sense. He was unfortunately as right as he always is, that arrogant prick." Her voice was fond.
And he had a million questions.
She must have realized that, her voice a little softer. "I'm sort of giving you a lot to chew on and you haven't even ordered your entree yet. Sorry. What about you? What's your passion?"
"I don't have my doctorate, if that's what you're asking," He admitted. "I, uh, I don't even have an associate's degree, actually."
He waited for her to look affronted, but she just looked at him with genuine curiosity. Unjudging, unwavering acceptance.
Maybe given what she'd chosen to study for her life work, that made sense. What exactly was a sex therapist anyway? Was it like massage therapy but more genital—no, he sounded like an idiot, thank God he kept that thought as an inside one.
"I'm, uh, I'm a content creator." He felt so small next to her. "I thought about specializing in thirst traps, but I mostly just do skits and storytimes and, uh, factoids while I…sexily jump rope in short shorts."
She laughed again.
He grimaced.
Her laughter started to taper a little, but she was still smiling. "I really hope you're not joking, because that's really attractive."
This time he was the one holding back laughter. "You have a doctorate. You can't think jump rope is sexy."
"Well, I mean, I obviously am a little jealous that I'll never be able to double dutch with you, but if you're sincerely out there, jiggling those glutes and…okay, what kind of factoids are you talking about?"
"Movie trivia. Aerospace history. Cold War Pop Culture. Uh, stuff like that, I guess. Kinda just, uh, sharing my little bits of special interests, and exercising."
"And the short shorts are…?"
"To drive engagement mostly."
"Oh, and I bet it works really well, doesn't it?"
"I do well for myself, yes."
She laughed again.
He smiled, shyly looking down at his glass, tracing a finger around the edge of it. He let his eyes lift up, meeting hers.
"I'm really glad you showed up," He said. "Why don't you have anything on Instagram?"
"I'm not really into that whole scene."
"What, the internet?"
"I like the internet, sure, but I don't like curating myself like that. It's too…bleh. I don't know. I'm not cut out for that world."
"What world are you cut out for?"
The server came to them, and Alfred realized they hadn't even opened the menu. Before he could say anything, Maddie was already speaking, ordering both for herself and for Alfred. He stared at her, too shocked to correct her, and too stunned to even comprehend what she'd decided was in his best interest.
The server nodded, starting to walk away.
"Oh," Maddie said, "And he'll have a Coke too, please."
"I only drink Diet," Alfred started to correct.
She snorted. "Yeah, no. He'll take a Coke."
The server looked between them, as though trying to decide which of them to listen to. "One…regular Coke coming up," He finally said, before going off to do exactly as she'd told him.
Alfred hadn't had a full sugar soda since the 8th grade.
Her expression started to shift, one of uncertainty at his growing silence. "…you're not diabetic, right?"
"No," He said, a little breathless from the weight of his own confusion.
Her smile became confident again. "Great. Anyway, you were asking what world I'm cut out for?"
"Oh. Yeah. I…yeah. Where, uh, where do you fit?"
"To Be Determined. Although I did really enjoy academia for the most part. You should consider higher education. Not for any sort of moral or intellectual reasons, though, but just for the change in perspective. It's wild."
"What, a lot of field research for your academic specialization?" He teased. Was it too suggestive?
"Absolutely," She said, fully serious.
Staring into her eyes felt indecent given those revelations, his mind itching to pry into her field research adventures. He let his eyes drop, staring instead at her ring once again.
She'd never answered his initial question.
Her fingers twitched. She must have realized this as well.
"I'm not married," She said.
He looked up, relieved.
"Yet," She added. "We can't decide between a spring or winter wedding."
Despite himself, he asked, "Which would you prefer?"
"Winter. I want to get married in the snow. He doesn't care for the cold, though."
"Oh. What a pussy." Except Alfred was the real wuss here, disappointment clear in his tone.
"Right? Oh!" Her eyes widened slightly. "It's not—he knows I'm here, for the record."
The server came back, setting the glass in front of Alfred. He stared at the condensation on the cold glass and felt his mouth water in anticipation of sugar. "Well, why wouldn't he? We're old classmates. Nothing wrong with that."
"Are you in a relationship?"
"No."
"Good." She smiled. "That would be tragic."
"Why?"
"…god you're cute."
Alfred felt like a tennis ball, battered around the court. He peeled the paper wrapper from his straw, sliding the plastic into his cup. "You're engaged."
"He knows I'm here."
"You already said that." He moved his lips around the straw.
Sugar painted his mouth and saturated his senses.
"It's an open relationship." She rested her cheek in her palm as he swallowed. "To put your confusion about where we stand at rest: yes, this is a date. A romantic and, I hope, sexually gratifying date."
What was he meant to say to that? His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. His sugar stained lips parted, mouth wide open. Shock. Confusion.
Hope.
Giddiness.
…a total school boy crush.
Could he handle being with someone who was already involved with someone else? Seriously involved, no less, given the ring on her finger.
She reached over, carefully pushing his glasses into place.
"Are you okay with that?"
He nodded without even hesitating.
"You must have questions."
"Is he the guy you mentioned earlier?" Alfred asked.
"Ivan?" She nodded. "Yes. That's my boyfriend…my fiance. Fiance. God, I don't like that word, it's too in between. Boyfriend is much cuter. Wife is even better."
"What, uh, what's he like?"
"Tall. Strikingly beautiful. Fiercely intelligent." Her face flushed just slightly as she spoke, clear infatuation lighting up every dainty feature. "I just really enjoy being around him. He's so weird and no one sees the world like he does."
"I think I'm going to be jealous," He teased.
Like most jokes, there were more than a few threads of truth to the statement.
"I think you're going to love him, too," She took a drink, then added, "He said you are very pretty."
"How—uh, when—why would he know how I look?"
"We scrolled through your TikTok. …yes, Alfred, I already knew your basic content strategy before you told me tonight, I probably should have admitted I looked you up pretty thoroughly before reaching out."
"Oh Jesus."
"Obviously you made a good impression or I wouldn't have DMed you."
Mortifying didn't begin to define it fully. And yet, the idea that she'd liked what she'd seen made him smile through the shame.
He wasn't sure how to feel about her partner admiring his looks as well. He'd never really been with a—
Fuck it.
He'd never even been on a date before. Man or woman.
Maybe he ought to be a little openminded.
And either way, at least she was interested.
And it wasn't as though he had to figure everything out tonight.
The server came back, dropping their plates before them. Hers a pasta dish, his a steak topped with grilled onions and mushrooms. The smell curled warmly around him. He took another drink of his full sugar Coke.
"Should we run through the usual small talk now?"
He laughed. "I don't think you're supposed to actually say that. I think you're supposed to just do it."
She smiled, shrugging. "Are you still in Columbus?"
"Sandusky." It felt terribly unglamorous compared to the life she was building.
"Cedar Point! Nice."
He chuckled. "I worked there a few summers, senior year and after. They had me operating coasters."
"Did you love it?"
"Hell no. It was all anxiety and puke. Met some cool people though. But it's a lot better being there as a customer than a worker."
"Ain't that the truth. I worked at a donut shop during my undergrad and it nearly killed the magic for me."
"I don't think I could ever get sick of donuts."
"Me either, hence why I said 'nearly'."
"And that was during your undergrad?"
"Mhm. Worked my way up to assistant manager. I quit when I started seriously working on my dissertation though. Ivan started paying my bills at that point. My own personal Slavic paypig. It made things a lot easier."
"Oh. So you guys have been together awhile then."
"Yeah, we met my Sophomore year."
"He was a classmate?"
"I met him in school, yes."
The phrasing stuck out to him. But did he really want the finer details about another guy courting her? Someone apparently rich and beautiful?
Fuck no.
"We don't have to talk about him," She said. "You should eat."
He remembered his appetite, picking up his fork and knife. As he carved off a bite, he asked, "So do you work for a clinic or own your own practice or, uh…I don't know where sex doctors work."
She giggled a little. "I just opened my own practice. It all feels very official. I have my own personal receptionist and everything." She paused. "Too bad she's great, or I'd offer to fly you out here full time to work for me. I could use some eye candy. I'd even let you jump rope between clients as long as you didn't violate HIPAA."
Another laugh. Why did everything end up being so easy with her? It was as though they'd never separated in the first place.
"Maybe I could be a client instead."
"No, I'd never fuck a client."
He blushed. "Does that mean you want to fuck me?"
"Obviously. But if you have some trauma or unresolved sexual hangups, I know some great colleagues I could refer you to."
"I think I'm good."
"Are you?"
"I…yeah? I assume—listen, lady! This is still a first date." He laughed uneasily.
"Ohh, you're one of those Rules types, aren't you? No kissing until Date 3 or whatever it is."
"Wha—no, it's not like that! I just need to show you I respect you."
"Ah. You think sex is inherently disrespectful."
"No, no—heyyy, don't psychoanalyze me."
"But it's so much fun," She took a bite of her pasta, swallowed, then asked, "What's the issue then? I won't have to analyze if you're just honest."
How honest was she expecting?
How honest was he capable of being?
Something about her eyes made him fear he'd eventually reveal all. He took a bite of his steak. Perfect and he hadn't even realized he'd needed it this way in the first place.
Would it really be so bad to just give into wherever she was steering this? To trust her expertise and judgment?
Besides, a foundation of honesty was probably best, right? Or at least that's what he'd heard. What did he know, really? Certainly nothing from experience.
It spilled from his lips, sloppy and desperate.
"I'm a virgin."
Except that wasn't clear enough.
"I've never had a lover."
Except that also wasn't clear enough.
"I've never been kissed."
More.
"I've never even held hands."
More more more-
"I'm afraid if I love someone too hard they'll disappear."
The words tripped around the room, galloping wildly, before they frenzied their way into Maddie's ears. Alfred could see her take every sentence in.
He almost expected her to pull out a pencil and notebook, to take clinical notes. For a moment, her expression was completely still.
And then her face saddened. It wasn't a clinical look at all, but a very human, very affectionate, very heartbroken face.
"Oh. Al, that's—no." She leaned forward a little, grabbing his hands. He was ashamed, their plates of food between them, but he let her grip onto his hands with her own manicured hold. "First of all, there's nothing embarrassing about being inexperienced. Virginity is-"
"A social construct?"
"It's just ultimately meaningless. Sex is just another skill, really. Or maybe another form of communication is a better way to say it."
"I wasn't the best at foreign language in school."
"I'm a good tutor." She laughed softly. And squeezed his hands. "And look. We're already holding hands, and you're good at it."
Maybe he should have felt mocked, but he laughed softly, nodding despite himself. "Yeah…"
"Shit, Alfred, I really love demeaning and humiliating cute guys. This should be a gift for me. But please, please don't be ashamed, okay? Not right now. Not about that. I like fun shame, I don't want to make you cry on our first date."
He couldn't bring himself to pull away, even as he protested. "I wasn't going to cry!"
She squeezed his hands. "It'd be pretty sexy if you did."
He couldn't tell how much was teasing and how much was genuine. His heart rattled.
"And for the record, whether you love someone or not, eventually we're all going to lose everyone we care about. Or we're the ones who will be lost. Wouldn't it be nicer to be surrounded by love until the very end, though?"
This time, he had to pull his hands from hers, but only because he desperately needed a drink. He grabbed his glass, lifting it from the table to bring the straw to his lips. After he drank, he set it back down, then nervously reached out, bridging the distance between them.
She closed it, taking his hands once more in hers.
"That's a little morbid."
"It's not though. It's human. Death is human. Sex is human. And for some people, sex with the dead is their idea of getting in touch with humanity. If you'd like to attend my seminar on the historical contexts of necrophilia through a modern lens of feminist theory-"
"No thank you." He laughed though, nearly certain she was only joking. The fact she chased him with a laugh of her own helped relieve him the rest of the way.
Their hands separated, both of them returning to their respective meals.
"And for the record, it's very sexy thinking about the fact I get to be your first." Maddie twirled her fork through her pasta. "Is it a dysphoria thing though? Aside from the abandonment issues."
His cheeks heated. "Maybe," He said finally. It felt strange to talk directly about this, though he supposed logically he should have reconciled the fact that Maddie would have known him in the beginning by his deadname, clumsy bob and self-cut bangs. The fact they hadn't really addressed anything beyond exchanging his name change in their initial messages was…what? Odd or polite?
Somehow this seemed to fit that same categorization surreality. Both odd and polite that she was bringing it up, a little clinical and deeply caring.
"I guess you probably wouldn't know what your hard limits are yet, but I'd imagine you touch yourself, right?" She paused, then smiled. "By which I mean, yes, I really like imagining you touching yourself."
"Oh my god!" He dropped his fork.
She passed hers over. "Keep eating. You'll need to keep up your energy tonight."
Was it fine that he was seriously entertaining her pursuit? He took her fork, offering a tiny 'thank you', before he took another bite of steak.
She had the grace to let him swallow before she said, "How do you touch yourself?"
"T-toys mostly," He squeaked out. He couldn't believe he was talking about this.
"Clitoral? Anal? Do you enjoy penetration? Most can't orgasm from penetration alone, you know, there's no shame in-"
"Madeline, I'm not going to—we're in a nice restaurant!"
"My nipples are so fucking hard right now." She picked up a noodle with her fingers directly, no longer in possession of a fork. She slipped it into her mouth, sucking it down, then licking her fingers clean after. It was probably supposed to be funny.
Alfred's cunt throbbed.
"That's, uh, probably because of the air conditioning," Alfred tried to supply helpful.
She nearly choked, laughing brightly after she coughed her way past the pasta in her throat. "You're a nut," She exclaimed, absolute adoration clear in her voice.
"Thank you," He said once more, smiling a little more boldly.
"Do you have any questions about my body?" Maddie asked.
"Um. You mean like whether you shave or-"
"I meant more if you were wondering if everything works."
"Oh. Oh! Maddie, I—you can't just ask things like that?"
"Why not? I'm inviting it."
"No. I don't care-"
"Oh, you care. Maybe you don't realize you care yet, but you definitely care." She reached over again, taking his hand. "I promise, I am more than capable of making you feel good, okay? I have fingers. I have a tongue."
"And you?"
Her smile softened. "I guarantee you can make me feel good too."
Admittedly, he did have questions. But the idea of pressing her about the limitations of her body felt cruel, and more than that, felt too embarrassing for his inexperienced tongue to speak. Sure, she'd reassured him already, but he didn't want to prove his own ineptitude any further than he'd confessed.
"Who was your sexual awakening?" She asked, as the server came back to the table and handed her a new fork. She returned to eating, as Alfred took another small bite.
He chewed the question and the steak over simultaneously. "…how familiar are you with Don Bluth films?" He finally asked.
"Was it Anastasia?"
"No."
"The mouse from-"
"Yes!"
"-Secret of Nimh?"
"Oh. No. Not that mouse."
She looked him over, her eyes carefully sizing up every part of him, before she finally said, "It was the Jewish mouse dad from An American Tail, wasn't it?"
"Excuse me, his name is Papa Mousekewitz, and you will put respect on his name."
"Did I end up on a date with a gay furry?"
"No, it wasn't like that!"
"Did you insert him into yourself in your fantasies?"
"No!!! I was a mouse too in—no!"
"Oh my god, you are a gay furry."
"He had a nice accent!"
"Oh my god."
"And he looked like he gave good hugs!" Alfred found his resolve cracking, giggling despite being wholly sincere in his answer. Okay, maybe when he'd earlier balked at the idea of being with a guy, it had been in direct defiance to evidence to the contrary in his youth—although in fairness, in those days, he hadn't fully accepted his own masculinity, so it wasn't an altogether gay fantasy, right?
"You are completely nuts!"
"Well, what about you? Real easy to make fun of the guy brave enough to march up to the Baby's First Fantasy gauntlet. What about y-"
"The Phantom of the Opera," She said it easily. Quick, but not rushed. Honest without sounding defiant or ashamed.
"The…the phantom of the-"
"Opera. Yes." She sighed softly, a smile on her face. "The brooding. The mystery. The sheer weight of his obsession."
"Isn't he, like, a murderer?"
"Aren't you, like, a gay furry?"
"Hey!" He picked up his cloth napkin from his lap, tossing it at her face without thinking about how rude the act truly was. Before he could apologize though, she was laughing again.
"Okay, give me an actual celebrity crush, current or past."
He took his napkin back as she handed it over, setting it in his lap and forking a mushroom onto the tines of his silverware. "Actual as in not animated?"
"Think you can manage that?"
He stuck his tongue out at her. Childish. She made a face back at him, a contortion that should have been offputting but made him guffaw at the absurdity.
As his laughter tapered off, he tried to figure out the best way to answer. "I used to have a crush on the girl from Napolean Dynamite."
"The objectively sexy one or Deb?"
"…who's the objectively sexy one?"
Maddie chose not to answer. "I've masturbated to John Waters and/or his filmography multiple times."
He blinked. "You know, it's really hard to ask followup questions, when you drop that sort of-"
"I really want to kiss you." She dabbed her lips with her own napkin. "I really want to kiss you all over, I should say. You're more impressive than I expected. And I expected good things."
"You did?"
"Of course I did. You were the only friend I ever had until I was an adult."
If she'd been sad about his answer about virginity, he was absolutely devastated by that revelation. "Really?"
"Well, yeah. I was the weird cripple girl who still carried around a stuffy for comfort." She smiled weakly. "Thank you, by the way. For not teasing me then. I understand if you need to tease me now."
"No. I'm not going to do that."
Maddie seemed surprised by this. She blinked, then smiled again, looking down at her plate. "Thank you." The gratitude radiating off of her was almost sad.
"But, uh, there is one thing I do have to make fun of."
"What's that?"
Alfred leaned back from the chair, pointedly looking down, until he was obviously staring at her feet.
Maddie's forehead creased in confusion as he looked up at her. He smiled, then flicked his eyes down once more, before looking into her eyes again.
"My…nonfunctional legs?" She finally asked.
He balked, stuttering in horror at her assumption. "No! No no your—your shoes! Your shoes are terrible!"
"My shoes are—what?" She looked down at herself then. Past the hem of her pretty little dress, to the plain and, now that he was closer he could tell, scuffed shoes. "They're flats," She finally said, as though he just didn't understand what they were.
"They're disgusting." It was a bold way to talk to her, considering they'd only just remet.
"Disgusting?" She echoed. She looked up from her shoes, confusion still clear on her face. "What's wrong with them?"
"Where do I even begin?"
"I don't know, but you'd better start." She didn't sound angry though, but rather deeply, deeply confused.
"The color does nothing to bring out the shape of your legs or to accent your outfit. And the shape does nothing to bring out the pretty arch of your foot or the curve of your ankle."
"The arch of—oh." Immediately, her expression shifted, a smile starting to slip up onto her face. "Holy shit, Alfred. You're a gay furry-"
"I'm not!"
"-And you have a foot fetish."
"I do not! I just really appreciate shoes!"
"Why do you really appreciate shoes?"
He hesitated, then sighed, dejected, his tone deadpan. "Because I really appreciate feet." That seemed too disgusting though, especially over a nice meal, so he added, "But it's not because of a fetish. It's more for aesthetic reasons."
"They're shoes. I don't even walk, why would I waste my time on nice shoes?"
"But that's the thing! You should buy even nicer shoes as a result. It's not as though they'll end up ruined—why are your shoes scuffed in the first place?"
"I…that's actually a really good question, Columbo, do you have one more for me?"
"…one more shoe?"
"One question. Just one more thing."
The reference made him laugh despite himself, but his mind was still stuck on his date's feet. "You know," He said, trying to keep his tone casual, "While driving here, I did see there was a small boutique that-"
"You're talking about a luxury shoe store. Not a boutique. I know exactly which store you mean."
"You're a professional woman, Dr. Sex. You cannot take clients in JCPenney flats."
"You're such an elitist, oh my god!" Maddie snorted. She set her fork down, her plate nearly finished. "You know what? The only reason I'm entertaining this is to get your dick hard. Fine. You can buy me new shoes. And I'll even let you pay for dinner too."
"Great," Alfred said brightly, reaching into his pocket to fish out his wallet. "I wasn't going to give you a choice."
"Oh, you think you have some sort of power here. How adorable." She took his Coke, which was nearly nothing but ice now, and instead of taking a drink, plucked a cube from the glass and began to suck on it.
He tried not to stare. He tried not to think about her mouth in that way. He tried, he tried so so hard.
And he was failing. But sometimes it was just about the journey.
As soon as the server sensed that their meal was concluding, he came back, grabbing Alfred's card, then going off to run it. Alfred squirmed a little in his seat, anticipation building.
And sadness. Their meal was done already.
And even if she was humoring him by allowing him to touch up her outfit a little bit, soon they'd have to part. Maybe he could really milk the shoe buying experience.
The card returned, he signed the tip, and his heart fluttered when Maddie hummed approval at the amount he opted to leave. He had nothing to compare this to, yet somehow this felt like he was knocking things right out of the park.
He shrugged his jacket back on (he couldn't even remember when he'd removed it during the date, though he certainly had felt warm at some point. Conversation had just been so natural that he must have acted unbidden), then moved over to her. She looked up at him and her lipstick was somehow unmarred, perfect. It was dizzying how much he wanted to kiss her.
And he remembered her saying she wanted to do the same to him.
But maybe he needed an after dinner mint or something first. He hesitated, and she reached out, taking his hand.
"I should have brought my electric chair today," She said.
"To execute me?"
"Oh my god, you dork. Not as a tool of state-mandated murder, no. My electric wheelchair."
"Oh."
"I thought you'd find my arms sexy if I used them more today. I think I might have overthought everything, actually, except for the shoes, ironically enough, and that's the thing you're most fixated on."
"It isn't," He insisted. "I think you're stunning! I just, uh, I was probably just looking for proof that you're not perfect to reassure—okay, maybe I just want an opportunity to touch your feet actually."
"What a pervert."
"Are you allowed to judge me? Given your job?"
"Actually, that gives me academic license to judge."
"Good point."
The giggles, the banter, all so easy, all so quick to keep his shame from overwhelming him. They left the restaurant, Maddie in her chair, Alfred in his expensive shoes, and made their way to his rental.
He opened the passenger door for her, listening as she told him how to fold up her chair for the trunk. He wanted to help her in, but not because he thought she couldn't handle thing, but rather for a cheap opportunity to touch her.
…jesus. He really was a pervert.
Once she had transferred to the seat, he closed the door for her, taking her empty chair back to the trunk. It took a moment to figure out her instructions, his hands shaking slightly with the uneasy worry he might break things, before he closed the trunk and got into the driver's seat.
"Are feet the only thing you fantasize about?"
"I don't fantasize about—no."
"My fiance has really big feet. Does that get you going?"
"I don't know," Alfred laughed. "Is he going to step on me?"
Oh jesus fucking christ why did that make his clit pulse too? At this rate, he'd soak his goddamn boxers. He could already feel the wetness making his packer slip against him just slightly. Mortifying.
"Maybe, if you asked nicely. I always feel a little bad for Ivan, I know he'd enjoy a pretty little thing to throw around, but…eh." She shrugged as he started the car.
Pulling out of the lot, despite the flickers of jealousy, Alfred asked, "I thought you said your relationship was open."
"It is."
"Couldn't he just take a more submissive partner if you're not able to fulfill his, uh, more 'throwing around' type urges?"
She looked out the window. "Absolutely he could, yes. I think it might break my heart if he were with another woman though. I think I might feel inadequate."
"Oh."
She looked over at him, smiling weakly. "You're judging me now, right? I'm some sort of hypocrite."
"No," He didn't scramble to answer or reassure, but rather choosing his honest words carefully. "I don't know if I could share someone I really cared about either."
"It's not really about sharing, if you do it right. I like the idea of Ivan fucking and being fucked, I like the idea of him receiving pleasure even if I'm not the one doing it. It's…I think it's some fucked up internalized misogyny hangup for me, because it's specifically only the idea of him being with other women."
The fact that Ivan, whoever this sexy big footed man was, put such a beautiful, funny, smart woman in this position of insecurity made Alfred's blood boil. "If you're not enough for him, then he needs to let you go. You shouldn't be-"
"Wait, why are you pissed? …oh! OH!" She laughed a little as Alfred drove, shaking her head. "He doesn't put me in that position, that's the thing. It's all hypothetical. Thought experiments. Ivan's never been with another woman, even prior to me."
"…you collect virgins?"
She snorted. "He wasn't a virgin either. Again, not that there's an issue if he were, but he's been with men. He was married to another man."
"Really?"
"Yes, but that was long before me. We have dinner with the guy sometimes actually. Interesting person." She reached over, brushing her hand gently over Alfred's arm. "It's very sweet that you already feel protective of me, but I'm very good at pursuing what I want and knowing my own boundaries."
"You're with a gay dude?"
"Hopefully two of them by the time this night is done, if you don't get sick of me."
"I'm not gay!"
"You're right, Subfuck Mousekewitz, there's nothing gay about your sexual psyche at all."
"Yeah, yeah, says the chick who condones first degree murder and advocates cannibalism."
He didn't even have a chance to consider that the reference to her own celebrity crush might be too obscure. Her eyes lit up, voice bright. "Filth are my politics! Filth is my life!"
He pulled into the parking lot before the boutique he'd seen earlier, the sound of her delighted laughter making him smile brightly. No matter how much she teased and joked, no matter how fundamentally odd he really was learning that she could be, god did he like her. Did he ever like being around her.
She took his hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing the back of it.
"You're a very sweet man, Alfred. I'm enjoying myself a lot."
His heart fluttered. "Me too." He opened his driver door after shutting off his car. "Let's get you some redbottoms now."
"That…is a very loaded statement to make to a sex specialist."
"Which reminds me, would you technically be classified as a sex worker?"
Why did he ask that? He groaned in mortification, already out of the car. He scrambled to the trunk, getting her chair, then bringing it up to her door before opening it.
She was still laughing. "I don't know," She said. "Respectable profession when the right safety nets are in place, though."
"You're pro sex work? …oh, wait, is this politics? We shouldn't talk about politics on a first date," He teased, as she transferred from the car into her chair instead.
"I'm pro autonomy and I'm anti exploitation, so make of that whatever you will. I guess that's true regardless of if sex is on the table, so wow, you're right, we are getting a little political here."
"I guess I started it by bringing up capital punishment earlier."
"You're right. It's always the man's fault. Very astute observation."
"I never said that."
"I inferred your true meaning, don't worry."
He would have rolled his eyes but he was too amused by her. They moved to the door of the store, thankfully accessible and free of steps, and walked inside.
The shopkeeper greeted them, a little confused, but thankfully not outright hostile.
"Hi," Maddie said brightly. "My boyfriend wants to waste perfectly nice shoes on a non-mobile woman. Talk him out of his delusion?"
"What size do you wear?"
"She's a six," Alfred said before Maddie could speak. He felt her look up at him, shooting her a weak smile. "I mean, I'm right, aren't I?"
"You are. Wow. You're a foot dom. We've found the one thing you're in control about."
"Okay, okay, let's not be nasty in front of the sales associate." He meant no malice though, his voice warm and face hot in a delighted sort of way. He looked to the worker then, giving some specifications for what he had in mind. As she walked away to grab some selections, he instead looked at Maddie.
Or rather, he knelt down before Maddie.
"Can I take off your shoes now?"
"Be my guest."
His hands shook as he peeled off her shoes, the left and then the right. She wasn't wearing any stockings, no pantyhose to divide her outerwear from her immaculate body. His breath hitched as his hands traced over the edge of her ankle after. Judging by her lack of physical response, she couldn't feel it.
Truth be told, he didn't know the full specifications of her disability. She'd given him an opportunity earlier for questions, and he'd wasted it.
…and really, truth be told, he only cared in so far as he cared about the totality of her, the history of her. Ultimately, it didn't much matter. He just wanted to figure out what she could feel, so he could make sure whatever she felt was pleasurable.
"You can touch as much as you want. Hell, you can suck on my toes if that's what you're into."
"You're such a freak," He laughed, his face hot. "We're just trying on shoes."
"No we're not. I am. This isn't a 'we're pregnant' situation, unless you're planning on leaving here with some heels too."
"Not my style."
"You'll just have to live vicariously through my feet, I guess."
"I can live with that."
"Oh, I'm sure you can, you sicko." She laughed. "I'm giving you free foot access and we haven't even kissed yet."
He was still kneeling but he let himself straighten up. In her chair, and with his height, the effect left them nearly on an even playing field.
She reached out, placing her hands against his shoulders. Her fingers tightened against his jacket, as she tugged him forward. His knees shuffled against the ground, pulling himself up as close to her seated body as he could.
"Do you really want your first kiss to be surrounded by Louboutins?" Maddie asked, an element of whimsy and amusement to her tone.
"Well, yeah," Alfred admitted.
"As long as you're consenting enthusiastically, how can I possibly turn you down?"
"Did you learn that in your doctorate program?"
She laughed, but she was already leaning forward, her breath softly brushing against his mouth in the process. He nearly lost himself completely in desire as he fumbled to lean forward to meet her.
Instinctive.
She tilted her head slightly to meet him, her lips brushing just so against his own. It was a nudge and an invitation all in one. He turned his face slightly, his eyes closing despite every urge he had to keep looking at her pretty features.
Maddie's mouth was warm, soft, a shimmer of lipstick smudged over her only amplifying how badly he wanted to taste her. He kissed her, closed mouth for now, reaching up to cradle her cheek in his palm. Her fingers tightened against his jacket, pulling him closer.
He felt her tongue brush against his mouth and he let his lips part. More intuition here, letting himself give in to her experience, her desires. Their tongues brushed and he pulled back despite himself, a quick suck of breath, before he fell back towards her.
Their lips engaged, he felt her exploring his mouth, her tongue tracing his lips, then flicking over his tongue, retreating for a moment until he realized she was inviting the same. He felt a little clumsy as he tried to take control, a moment of fluttering his tongue against her own, before she was pushing back against his actions. It just seemed right, he thought, as she was in his mouth again, her body pressing forward to deepen the kiss.
He heard moaning before he realized it was his own voice. Embarrassing, but he couldn't help himself. He whined in the back of his throat as she pulled the kiss back just enough to latch onto his bottom lip, sucking on it, nibbling on it, before softly spilling herself back into the comparatively gentler, but more overwhelmingly encompassing kissing.
Alfred hardly heard the attendant return until he heard her clear her throat. He pulled back reluctantly, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry, I-" He cleared his throat, stopping himself from committing to the apology.
The kissing had felt too good to try to undo it with shame.
The sales associate set a few boxes down, starting to lower down as though to put the shoes on Madeline herself.
Alfred already felt a rush of possession, of jealousy. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Still on his knees, he said, "I can do it for her."
"Oh, it's fine, I don't m-"
"I can do it."
Maddie snorted. "He's a raging pervert."
"I am not," He protested. He squirmed a little, rubbing his thighs together, even as he grabbed one of the boxes of shoes. He looked inside, admiring the immaculate craftsmanship, the red print upon the bottom, the height of the heels.
He licked his lips, pulling the right shoe out. He moved closer to Maddie, walking forth on his knees, until he was carefully pulling her bare foot away from the foot rest of her wheelchair. Cradling her heel, he lifted her foot, then slipped the heel into place. Her toes sliding into place, he set the bottom of the shoe (with her foot snugly inside) back onto the foot rest. His fingers moved nimbly to strap the shoe properly, and without thinking, he smoothed his fingers over her ankle.
"There," He breathed shakily. "Doesn't that complete your look?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you're beautiful." He looked up, face flushed, eyes wide.
Her cheeks lightly glowed, her eyes turning away, though she was still smiling. "I think you're deranged."
"I think I deserve the commission big time for observing this," The salesgirl intoned dully. She walked to the cash register, and Alfred tried for a fragment of a moment to feel shame for his own indecency, before he grabbed the other shoe to slide onto place.
His fingers teased her toes, though she offered no physical reaction. Her skin was warm and soft and pliant to his touch. His breath came out uneven as he strapped that shoe into place as well, then sat back on his knees, looking up at her for acceptance.
She leaned forward in her chair, cradling his face in her hands. "I don't know if I should let you buy these for me."
"Oh, you can't leave here without them. Look at you!"
She kissed his forehead. "God. I really like you," She mumbled against his skin. "I didn't expect to enjoy you this much."
He laughed softly. "I hope that's a good thing."
"Me too. Take me home."
He stood up, looking down at her feet one more time, before he glanced towards the counter. He fished out his card before he finished crossing over. For just a moment, the way the woman looked at him, he half-expected her to recognize him.
Of course, his platform wasn't nearly that well known, and it really was best that she didn't acknowledge who he was beyond a perverse weirdo customer.
He hoped her commission really was great.
Either way, they left Maddie's inadequate flats behind as they left the shop. Alfred's lips tingled and his cunt throbbed and his walk was bouncy and delighted as he helped her into his car, returned her chair to his trunk, then got into the driver's seat again.
His hands against the steering wheel, she reached over, placing her hand against the back of his hand. He waited for her to say something, but she just seemed content to touch him, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand.
"So what are we doing back at your place?"
"I'm going to take off these shoes-" He tried not to whine in disappointment, "-and my dress," And then his disappointment rushed into deep, delirious lust.
"And then what?" He asked.
She laughed. "You know what."
"Do I? I'm a virgin, remember?"
"Oh, don't play cute with me."
"I'm not playing. I am cute."
"Arrogant little shit," Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. She released her hold against him, and he took the opportunity to start up the car.
For a few moments, she just gave instructions, directing him through the town. Occasionally, she'd point out landmarks, but mostly it was practicality, instruction, guidance.
Every command only thrilled him further. What did that say about him, that he so enjoyed listening to her demands?
Probably nothing. It probably just meant he was pleased that he wasn't lost in a strange town. Why did it have to mean anything, really?
They finally pulled up to her house, a small place with a cracked driveway. He pulled in next to another car, a compact little red thing. Was she able to drive? He glanced at it for a moment as he put the car into park, turning off the engine.
She grabbed him by the jacket, yanking him towards the passenger seat.
And then they were kissing again. It almost felt as though he were being consumed, her hands clawing at his clothing, holding him close. Her lips ravenously moved over his own, tongue flicking, teeth nipping, and he tried to pet her hair, to cradle her cheeks, but his own movements felt slow motion, hers frantic, manic even.
"Let me have you, Alfred," She moaned against him. "Let me have you tonight. Please? Please, just trust me. Let me make you feel incredible."
"I…why the hell would I say no to that?"
She laughed again, pecking his lips, then moving her lips down his jawline, then over his throat. She kissed a line against his neck, up and down, then attached her lips to his collarbone after tugging cloth out of the way. Licking. Kissing. Sucking. Biting. Kissing the bites left behind.
His boxers were completely soaked. Fabric clinging to his skin, his body heat radiating from him in waves. His head fell back as she mewled against him.
One of her hands released its hold upon his shirt, instead reaching down to stroke his inner thigh. She squeezed, caressed, rubbed, and he shivered with every continued touch of her nimble fingers. They road higher, higher, very nearly touching him where he needed most, then retreating again.
"How badly do you want me?" She murmured against his neck.
"I think I'm losing my fucking mind," He whined deliriously in return.
She kissed up, back over his jaw, then nibbled on his earlobe. He tilted his head, allowing her access, her tongue flicking where she'd just bit, then kissing the shell of his ear, before huskily saying, "The things I'm going to do to you are going to completely rewire you as a human being. I'm going to destroy the man you thought you were and make you in the image you were meant to be."
"Oh," He breathed, fingers tightening up against his palms to try to collect himself. "Neat."
If it was a stupid thing to say, she didn't even bother to laugh this time. "Just leave my chair in the trunk. Carry me inside. You're so big and strong, you can do that, can't you, baby?"
It was such a cheap petname but it went straight to his head, right with the praise itself. He nodded, pulling away from her. It felt cold outside of her kisses and grip, but he stepped out of the car, walking around to open the passenger door.
She held out her arms for him. He scooped his arm under her legs, his other around her back, tugging her in close to his chest, bridal style. Her heels dangled prettily on her feet. Her eyes looked up at him with total trust.
No.
Not trust.
Total ownership.
He was carrying her physically, but she possessed him in every other possible way.
Walking forth, he had to use his hip to bump open the door. The house smelled clean, vaguely of traces of baked goods. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. It felt safe, warm even, and he paused for a moment to try to look around.
"Third room on the left in the hallway," She instructed before he could take in any photos (he did wonder if he'd see any traces of her relationship, but she spoke before he could find anymore hints about Ivan).
Walking down the hallway, he used his hip again to bump open the door. The room in question seemed to be a bedroom, vast California king in the center, long, oddly intimidating bedposts, and soft dark blankets. He moved over to it, laying her down in the center of it.
She arched herself against the bed, her lower half completely still, her arms sprawling out. Her breathing lifted her chest with every inhale, and he tried his best not to ogle her.
"You should be looking at me," She admonished with the smallest of giggles. "I want you to look at me."
"Sorry," He blushed. "You're just so pretty."
"You fondled my feet no problem, but you can't look at my tits?"
"I never said that."
"Here," She slipped the straps down, shimmying her arms free, then slipped the entire top half of her dress down. Her bra was black, lacy, not altogether opaque, his eyes briefly taking in the shape of her nipples before he averted his eyes again on instinct. "No," She said. "Stare at me." A pause, a flutter of vulnerability. "Please. I need…I need you to think I'm pretty like this too."
He looked back, though his eyes immediately met hers instead, staring at her face with total honesty. "Of course I think you're—you're completely stunning. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
"You don't exactly have tons of experience to draw upon," She said, her confidence seeming to come back. Her hands had moved to the center of her bra, and though he wasn't staring directly, her movements were obvious enough that he understood she'd grasped onto the clasp even before she unhooked it completely.
His breath caught. His eyes dropped. His face burned.
Her breasts were weighty, if modest, and her nipples were hard. His tongue rolled helplessly against the roof of his mouth, searching for friction and flavor that he'd only find in her skin. Without thinking, he let himself sink his knees against the bed. He crawled forward, crawling over her, her body falling back against the bed again as his mouth pressed against hers.
Alfred's fully clothed body pressed to hers. The dress, bunched up at her waist, crinkled as he rocked against her, his mouth open, the kiss more tongue than lip. He doubted it would have looked attractive to an outsider, but it felt good. It felt right.
She grabbed his jacket, slipping it off him. It fell somewhere onto the edge of the bed, then slithered to the ground. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything at all. One hand pressing against the bed, the other shakily rose to cup one of her breasts. He squeezed it and she moaned against his tongue. A reward, a trinket for his troubles, his forefinger and thumb working to tweak her nipple. A squeeze, and then a playful little twist, just slightly, rotating his touch to get her to sigh against him.
"Use your mouth," She murmured between kisses. "Please. Use your mouth."
He shifted down her, nose nudging against her chin to tilt it upward, before he kissed her throat. He didn't dare bite, didn't dare leave the same marks against her that he could tell were already forming on his own neck. Instead, he worshiped his way down her body, kiss after everlasting kiss, tracing his tongue in a heart against her pulse point, then nuzzling his cheek up against her breast. Loving, yearning, eternally needy.
He cupped both breasts, squeezing them in tandem. And then he brought his face to them, flicking his tongue over one nipple, then moving over to the other. Another squeeze, playful really, feeling the heaviness of her, then latching onto her. He sucked on her nipple, firmly, softly, confident, uncertain, alternating techniques and curiosities, taking in the sounds she made with every motion.
Her hand pet through his hair. Approval. His body quivered with her gentleness.
"Don't be…don't be afraid to—a-ah that feels good—don't be afraid to use your teeth," She said.
Except he was. He was definitely afraid. But he finally couldn't resist, the faintest of nibbles to her nipple. She squeaked in response, a little jolt of her body, then a shiver. He pulled away from the nipple, experimentally biting here and there at her breast, before he returned to the nipple itself, twirling his tongue around one, then moving to the other breast and repeating his actions. There was symmetry in this, artistry even.
Maybe this was what he really was made for.
"Take my dress off," She said softly. "Please."
The small 'please's were driving him absolutely wild. He moved away from her breasts, staring at the patchwork of bites he'd left behind. His stomach swirled, it was close to shame, but there was a deliciousness to the feeling that he couldn't articulate, a craving. And then he reached down, slipping her dress down her hips, her thighs, untangling it from the expensive heels he'd just bought her. It felt wrong that she had shoes on the bed, but that wrongness only made things feel even better to him.
She hadn't asked him to, but he grabbed the waistband of her panties too, staring in transfixed wonder as he began to slide her underwear off.
She offered no assistance, and at first he worried she was resistant, before realizing dumbly that of course she wasn't lifting her hips. She looked at him with desire, her glasses sliding down her face. She pushed them back into place, biting her lip, then licking it, smiling shakily. His eyes dropped down again, watching the panties tug away from her. He was unsure how much she could feel, but whether she could feel or not, her pussy certainly had reacted to her arousal, given how soaked the fabric was. He worked it down, letting it tangle up at her ankles without separating it completely, then moved back up.
He stared at her, her body, her breasts and her cunt and the pretty curve of her hip and the shapeliness of her thighs and the little movements of her stomach with every breath. He wanted all of her. He wanted all of this.
"You're way hotter than a Don Bluth mouse," He said. "For, uh, for what it's worth."
"Coming from you? High praise," She reached out, cupping his cheek. "I won't feel most of anything below my waist," She admitted. "But you can touch and taste as much as you want. It's hot watching, even if I can't feel it."
"You can't feel anything down there?"
"Well, if you get deep enough, I can. But…" She trailed off.
"My fingers are pretty long."
"You can try." She laughed softly. "I'm already so worked up, just watching you might get me off alone. Besides," She twirled his cowlick around her finger, giving it a small tug, "Don't you want to feel someone's cunt besides your own for once?"
"Well, yeah, but you're not some science experiment for me to get my sick kicks off."
"Oh, relax. I want you to touch me. I'm not as fragile as you think."
"I don't think you're fragile."
"Oh yes you do. But I think you'd think any partner is fragile. Hell, you'll probably think Ivan is fragile." She laughed at the thought, which likely implied he was a pretty sturdy man.
He was more confused than jealous though. "No, I—no."
"Cherishing is how you express your love, I think. It's fine, Alfred. I think it's cute. Cherish me. But also please, please put on a show for me already. Eat me out, give me some porn, do whatever you want, but do it soon, I need to come already."
He ached at those words. Nodding, he reached down to her feet again. He traced her panties off her feet, holding the warm fabric in his palm for a perverse moment, before finally letting them drop.
And then he pushed her legs apart. He watched the way her lips spread at the motion, the slightest hint of indecency, a flash of pink and wetness, and he felt like he was going to die. He was going to die and he hoped they buried him between her legs for all of eternity.
He moved up the bed, and without even using his hands, he kissed her cunt, buried his face against her.
And he knew she couldn't feel it, but she moaned all the same, her hand pressing against the back of his head, cradling him to her.
Her body was warm, soft, still, though her hand continued to pet him. He fluttered his tongue against her, teasing her folds, then easing it inside. His nose nudged against her clit, and he swore he could feel her pulse through it, though perhaps he was counting his own rapid heartbeats.
If she really couldn't feel her clit though, it made more sense to focus on penetration in this case. It seemed counterintuitive to everything he knew from sexual education books (for his own private research, they certainly hadn't taught this in high school), and from everything he knew of his own body, but he poured his all into moving his tongue inside her.
How deep did she need him to go before she could-
"Oh!"
Jackpot.
He grinned, as she pushed against his head. "Yes, yes, right there, like that, move it in a circle inside me, Alfred, oh my God, oh my GOD, I didn't realize your tongue was so thick and so—oh my GOD!"
He drew his tongue back just slightly, before thrusting it forth again. Her upper half jerked against the bed, her hand pressing against his head. His eyes watered, his glasses falling off his face, but he ignored that, fluttering his tongue within her. He didn't know if it was a spot that was traditionally sensitive, if he was doing something that would help any other woman, but clearly it was doing things for her.
He could hear knocking. It must have been the bedframe, given the way she was moving.
He ignored it.
Her other hand reached down to take one of his hands. She squeezed his hand, sharp, almost like a woman going into labor. He nuzzled up deep, close, moaning against her, into her, and hearing the way she whimpered in response.
"Alfred," Her voice was strangled. Another knock. Then silence, except for her breaths, her whines, her moans.
She smelled nice, but she tasted even nicer. The hand that wasn't gripping hers moved to touch her, to feel how soft and wet her skin was, even if she couldn't enjoy the sensory contact. He just needed to explore, needed to know every single sensation of her.
"Oh, oh, Alfred!" She squealed.
He pulled his mouth back, lips soaked, heart burning, voice dark and desperate. "Sing for me," He said.
She looked down at him, her own expression hazy, confused. He thought she was going to ask why he stopped. But all she managed was a strangled. "What?"
"Sing for me, my angel of music."
A blink.
Then, just as clear as the moans and the desperation, tears of desire still clinging to her eyelashes, her head fell back, and she laughed. Maybe it should have been horrifying to be laughed at in this moment, but he found himself laughing too, husky and coated in the taste of her. Her hand squeezed his and she looked down again, as though she was going to say something.
"Sing for me!" He said in dramatic music theatre fashion.
She gasped with her laughter, falling back against the bed in a flurry of giggles and snort. She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle herself, only to laugh even harder as he moved up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her neck, then her lips.
"Wait, I'm all over you-" She protested between giggles, yet kissed him back as best as her laughing mouth could allow.
The latch of the door clicked as Alfred shared laughter between lip smacks with the girl of his wildest dreams. The hinges creaked.
Light from the hallway spilled into the bedroom. A dark shape loomed in the doorframe.
Alfred shrieked.
Maddie lifted her head, her hands cradling Alfred near, even as she said, "Did we wake you, Ivan?"
Alfred looked over at the sound of footsteps. His eyes lifted.
Maddie had been correct on all counts.
Ivan was ridiculously tall.
And
Ivan was strikingly, mesmerizingly beautiful.
He was also completely fucking naked.
"Oh my God," Alfred breathed, burying his face against Maddie's neck without thinking after getting a good eyeful of his girlfriend's lover's proud, hard cock.
"Yes," Ivan said, a softness to his tone, even with the thickness of his accent. "I tried to wait up for you-"
"Tried to wait up? It's…what time is it?"
Alfred lifted his head just enough to glance at his watch. "8," He said, muffling his voice against her neck again, hiding against her.
He was the only one dressed, and yet he felt the most exposed between both of them.
"Right. It's only 8 o'clock, sleepy bones."
"I was grading papers. You know how this makes me."
"Lazy?"
"Drained," He countered. Alfred felt the bed shift, realizing the man was sitting against the edge of it.
Ucertainly, Alfred moved his face away from Maddie, glancing towards Ivan. He was seated with his back facing them, the curve of his ass briefly stealing his attention, then the shape of his back, soft and vast. His eyes moved upward, to a flurry of thick scar against the back of his neck, then the almost-white fringe of hair tickling against the top of the scarring.
Ivan turned his face, looking at Maddie, body contorting just enough to be able to view her. His nose was distinctly shaped, large, domineering even, and his lips were turned into a peaceful smile, his eyes soft, adoring.
Alfred felt a pang, but he wasn't sure if it was because he felt possessive of Maddie, or because he wanted Ivan to look at him that way.
It hardly seemed right to even consider that could be the case, when they hadn't even fully met yet.
"Well, my papers always thrilled you," Maddie said.
"Your papers were pornographic," Ivan said, his smile slipping in an attempt at disapproval. His eyes were still as gentle as before.
Alfred looked between them, still sprawled over Maddie's body. Maddie, of course, was his age. But Ivan looked a good decade or more older. He'd venture to say more, in fact, except that there was an angelic ageless factor to his round face that made it hard to categorize him. He couldn't tell if his hair was just very fair or if it was greying, silvered.
Either way, though, he was older. He was older, and Maddie was talking about him reading her papers, and-
"Wait a minute. Was…you said you met in school."
Ivan looked at him as though he'd just realized he wasn't alone in here. He remained silent.
"Yeah," Maddie said. "We did."
"Was—was he your professor??"
"Yes," Maddie didn't bother to sound ashamed.
Alfred felt like if she'd answered defensively, they could have argued, he could have picked at the flaws in their relationship, they could have stood somewhere.
But she just owned it.
How was he supposed to respond to that?
He had a million questions but all he could manage was, "Oh…okay."
"This is your little friend?" Ivan asked.
Maddie laughed softly. "Something like that."
"He's very-"
"What?" Alfred snapped. "What am I?"
Ivan turned his body a little more. The head of his cock was briefly visible before Alfred forced himself to stare very intently at his face instead. If Ivan found this unnerving, his expression didn't betray it. He just stared back.
Alfred's face and neck felt hot under the intensity of his gaze.
"I am not sure yet," Ivan said, as though the question required a deep philosophical answer. "What are you?"
"…Alfred," He said, as though he'd asked 'who' instead of 'what'. "I'm Alfred."
"And I am Ivan."
"And we're all acquainted, so can I please come now?" Maddie asked.
Alfred looked back at her in surprise. The overwhelming nature of everything crashed over him. He pulled back, separating from her body, the bed, the relationship before him as he stood. His legs wobbled. His wetness had definitely soaked through to his jeans, and he desperately hoped Ivan didn't notice. Smoothing his hands over his legs, his voice raspily croaked out, "I should get back to the hotel."
"Why?" Maddie pulled off her glasses just as Alfred grabbed his own from the bed, fitting them back onto his face. Her glasses were placed on the night stand. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"
"I am, but-"
Ivan stood up. Alfred made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, but instead of approaching, Ivan moved to the door. On a hook hanging from the back was a robe.
Ivan pulled it on.
Alfred felt like he could breathe a little easier.
"I am going to get to know him now," Ivan said simply. He walked over to Alfred, taking his hand. His grip was warm, gentle, surprisingly reassuring at first, until Alfred looked back at Maddie and remembered who he came here for to begin with.
Strangled, confused sounds continued to incoherently leave his mouth. Maddie smiled at him, though there was a flicker of frustration in her glance.
"Can you bond quickly? I'm-"
"On edge?" Ivan finished for her, his tone teasing. "I'm sure you can keep yourself composed until we return to you."
Her lips pursed slightly, tensed, then she smiled. She beckoned with a single finger.
Ivan released his hold on Alfred's hand. All Alfred could do was watch helplessly as Ivan walked over, the robe shifting against his body. If anything, the fact he was wearing it now only made Alfred all the more aware that he had nothing on underneath.
He climbed onto the bed. His large body moved with a fluid grace as he tipped her chin upward. The kiss was long and passionate, not as frenzied as the ones she'd shared with Alfred, but perhaps that was simply due to a history together.
A history, apparently, that also included them as teacher and student in their beginnings. Alfred wanted to pry, but he also wanted to envelope himself in this moment, the surreality and sexuality.
He also wanted to run away.
It was a lot of conflicting feelings all playing at once. He watched, helpless to all of it, as Ivan kissed the first girl he'd ever dated. Maddie moaned softly, grabbing Ivan's wrist, drawing his hand briefly to her breast. His hand lingered against her, squeezed softly. Alfred swallowed at the sight.
And then Ivan released her, pulling away, shaking his head with a smile. "Patience. It will be worth the wait."
"If you make him come before I get to come, I'm going to be very upset with you, Ivan Braginsky."
"Hey-" Alfred protested, but couldn't seem to figure out the right words to say, what exactly he was fighting against.
Ivan looked over at him, his eyes traveling up and down him slowly, before he smiled again, a languid, easy sort of smile. There was nothing self-conscious about him, about whatever he was feeling now.
Alfred wasn't sure if he felt really hot or really tiny in his eyes.
And then Ivan looked back to his fiancee. "Are you making a command, or are you simply stating your feelings?"
She pouted. "You're your own person," She said.
It was a test. Alfred wasn't sure what sort of test, didn't know the dynamics or boundaries of their relationship, but he could see that it was a test of some sort.
Was it better for Ivan to fail or to pass?
And did Alfred truly want to know the full parameters at play here?
Either way, Ivan left the bed, going back to Alfred. He took his hand, lifting it to his own mouth and kissing the back of it.
Maybe Alfred should have recoiled. All he could do instead was stare, blinking, his glasses back on his face, his arms cold without his jacket.
"Let us have a drink and discuss the evening like gentlemen," Ivan insisted, then led Alfred out of the room.
Alfred gave one last mournful look back at Maddie, and the night of passion they'd just started to fall into, before he allowed Ivan to take him away.
Walking through the hallway now, Alfred looked at a few of the pictures, even as Ivan lightly teased his fingertips with his thumb with the way he had his hand gripped. The tickling sensation of it made something in Alfred's lower stomach twitch, not quite knotting up, but certainly fluttered.
They went through the living room, then to the dining area, Ivan gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs at the table. Alfred wordlessly sat, watching as Ivan moved over to the liquor cabinet. His hand lingered against the hutch's door, before he laughed, pulling his hand away. The sound of his laughter made the feeling in Alfred grow a little tighter, his head a little dizzier.
"This is where she'd say it's very important that your head remain clear. I suppose she had you eat well and stay hydrated too?"
"…yeah?"
He laughed again, shaking his head, then walking out of the room, into the kitchen. Alfred heard the sound of ice dropping into glasses, the click-hiss of a pop can cracking open, then the liquid bubbly pour of fluid in cup. Ivan returned, setting a glass of Coke before Alfred.
"Is this evening sponsored or something?"
Ivan raised an eyebrow, taking a drink from his own glass, before grimacing in distaste. "It is missing something."
"What? Vodka?" Alfred mocked, before wondering if that was racist.
Ivan smiled faintly. "Smart man."
"I mean, okay, maybe she wants to keep my head clear for whatever fucking reason, but you could drink."
"No, it is rude to do so around those who cannot partake."
"I mean, I can do whatever I want."
"Certainly. But there are consequences in freedom, are there not?"
"I…yeah? Look, dude, I'm not—I don't have my doctorate like you two, so if you're trying to mock me for being a big dumb horny asshole or something-"
"I do not have my doctorate either," Ivan said. "The student has surpassed the teacher, as they say." He took another drink.
"Oh." Alfred stared at his own glass. Another full sugar soda. His waistline was not going to like him after this. He wondered if Maddie still would though. Which was more important?
He took a drink.
"Does that piss you off?" He asked as he set the glass down. He wasn't sure if this was the right conversation to lead into, but the question left him before he could question it.
"Does what?"
"That she's smarter—uh, shit, sorry. More educated than-"
"She is smarter. My Madeline is very brilliant." Ivan was staring at the ice cubes in his drink very intently. He watched as it bobbed up and down, as the bubbles surrounded it. Finally, he looked up. "I suspect you're not nearly as much of a 'big dumb horny asshole' as you claim, either."
Alfred wanted to protest Ivan's use of 'my' before Maddie's name, but the faintest of faint praise, or at least the promise that he anticipated more of Alfred, threw him off before he could latch onto the easier familiarity of jealousy. "I mean, I'm okay."
"She doesn't form attachments this strongly very often. You have to be remarkable to have made an impression."
"Oh. I mean, no, I think—I mean, we were just lonely weird kids together, you know? She made me laugh-"
"You make her laugh too. I heard."
Alfred's face turned red. "She laughs easy, that's all."
"Does she? I'm glad to hear you know her so much more deeply than I." It was certainly accusatory, sarcastic, but there was a merriment and endearment to it too.
Ivan seemed to convey so many emotions at once, yet all so mellowly, that Alfred really didn't know how to begin reading him.
He'd never been great at Russian literature. Maybe he really should have gone to college to get a better crack at it.
"So…" He trailed off. Because Alfred wasn't entirely sure where to go from here.
"You have many questions."
"Yeah."
"You don't know how to ask them."
"No."
"Do you feel comfortable moving onto physical affection now?"
Alfred laughed, shaking his head. "Not really. Definitely not when you ask like that."
"Too clinical?"
"A little."
"Hm. That tone works better from her voice, I suppose."
"Yeah, probably. Most things do."
"I can accomplish things she's unable to."
"Oh really?" Alfred tried to sound more annoyed than intrigued. He wasn't sure if he succeeded. "Like what?"
"I can fuck you so deep you'll swear you can feel it in your stomach, for one thing."
Alfred's mouth fell open. His eyes started to slide down Ivan's robed body, before quickly shooting back up to his face. He shook his head. "No, she—I mean, she could use a strap."
Ivan laughed once again. Alfred had never considered himself funny as his primary trait. Sure, some of his TIkToks were more comedic. But mostly he marketed himself in obscure nonsense and sex appeal.
And, apparently, in storytimes to find lost friends. How was he going to market all of this in a single video for his audience?
He'd probably have to leave out the shape of Ivan's cock that he could still see through the light blue of his cotton robe—fuck, Alfred had started staring at his crotch once again without meaning to. Fuck fuck fuck.
He looked back up. Ivan was no longer laughing, but he was still smiling. He was still tall.
He was still breathtaking.
Quadruple fuck. Fuck to the tenth dimension.
"She could, but you'd have to ride her. I could use you in any position my heart desires."
"Yeah, well, la di da. Good for you, weirdo." His heart was beating so hard he could hardly hear himself over it.
"You're not really this blase. You're just…hm." He considered him, as though trying to figure out how to define him.
Alfred held his breath in anticipation and dread of what he might unearth.
"Inexperienced," Ivan finally guessed. "Inexperienced, perhaps a little intimidated. Anxious I might even guess."
"I'm not anxious, this is just some weird shit."
"It is," Ivan said.
"You think so too?"
"Of course I do. Wouldn't you find it strange if your fiancee brought home some stranger she hasn't seen since before puberty?"
"Well…yeah. Yeah, I guess—wow, this really must be very weird for you too. I didn't even think of that."
"She's been speaking about you constantly since you booked your flight, the moment she knew she'd see you again." A pause. "She spoke about you before that too. It was just a little less…aggressively erotic."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry? I enjoy it. I enjoy her generally, and I found her speculation about your body tantalizing."
"…do you always just say things like that? Like just…right out there? Full frontal?" Alfred paused, then grit his teeth. "Don't answer that. Obviously you do everything full frontal around here."
"I put a robe on."
"Barely! I can still see all your…your lines and shapes and bits and…Christ, man, you're a force."
"Thank you."
"Not necessarily a compliment, but you're welcome."
"It was a compliment." Ivan chuckled softly. "You're very aroused by me."
"No, it's-"
"And also my Madeline, but you cannot stop looking at me."
"Well, you can't stop looking at me either!"
"Yes. I was hoping you'd be nude when I entered the room. I miscalculated. But you both sounded so happy, I could not stay away."
"…so you weren't really sleeping? You were just creepily listening in?"
"Well…I was initially sleeping, but I may have exaggerated to allow you to think I was sleeping for longer."
"God, you really are a professor. You're so verbose, man. What the hell?" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, then lifted his drink with the other. He took another sip. "You weren't wrong, by the way."
"That you're attracted to me?"
"That I'm inexperienced." He couldn't bring himself to say 'virgin' again, no matter how gently Maddie had reassured him that it was alright.
"Everyday brings first times of many varieties. You will enjoy my cock."
"Okay, Pornbot, now you're just being ridiculous." Alfred laughed.
"…it was worth it, you have a cute laugh. She was right."
Alfred's laugh tapered off. He stared at Ivan. His pretty purple eyes and his soft smile. His prominent nose and soft hair. The intelligence radiating off of him, the strange edge of mockery in his kindness, or was it kindness in his mockery, or was it some other thing? He couldn't figure him out. He couldn't figure anything about this out.
And something about that fact was really, really working for him.
"Oh, you're good," He said, a little chuckle once again, pointing at Ivan. "You are really, really good. You think a little bit of praise is going to get you into my pants?"
"I'm hoping."
"Damn, you're good." He shook his head, taking a drink and then offering a secondary shake of his head. "But I'm not nearly that easy, man."
"What does ease have to do with it? We're here for such a short amount of time."
"In your kitchen?"
"On this planet."
"Oh God, no, just because you're going through your midlife crisis doesn't mean you're going to drag me down into a morbidity orbit. Nope nope nope. I'm going back to the room with the cute naked girl." He stood up, walking towards the bedroom.
He paused.
He hardly realized what he was doing himself, even as he turned. Ivan was still seated, the front of his robe starting to open. The shape of his chest beckoned Alfred's eyes, and his tongue yearned to follow. His eyes dropped lower, to the loop of rope holding the robe closed, the shape of his erection with the cloth folded over it demurely.
"And, uh, if you're as smart as you claim, doctorate or otherwise, you should probably join me," Alfred managed to say, still staring at his cock, before he looked up, offering a weak smile, a shrug, then a swivel as he moved back towards the room. Down the hall, third room on the left.
Maddie had propped herself onto the pillows, and the television was blaring very loud, very gay pornography. One hand behind her head, the other was teasing and stroking one of her nipples. The sound of male moans made Alfred's skin burn once again.
She looked up, smiling unashamedly, moving her hand from behind her head to pat the bed. "Come sit."
He glanced at the TV, a man with a full fucking beard eating the ass of a skinnier, hairless man. The bearded man held the other's cock in his fist, pumping it down in aggressive strokes, base to tip, precum obscenely squirting from the tip of his cock.
"I know," Maddie said. "It's pretty vanilla. Please, come cuddle me."
Alfred had crawled onto the bed, but the invitation was more than enough to steal his attention back to her. He shuffled over to her, kissing her shoulder, batting her hand away to instead very softly caress her chest.
"Nipple play is usually just the easiest for me," She said. "Or visuals. Sometimes I can get off just from fantasy or sight alone. Or…oh, hello, you," She smiled towards the doorway.
Ivan had obviously taken Alfred's invitation.
"Do I have to keep wearing this?" He asked, and though Alfred was almost certain it was directed at him, at his comfort, he was speaking the words to Maddie, looking almost bashfully at his would-be wife.
Maddie grinned. "Maybe." She moaned as Alfred leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth again.
He rolled his tongue flat against it, lifting back just enough to mutter, "I think he should take it off."
"He thinks you should take it off," Maddie echoed, petting Alfred's hair as her breath grew a little more frantic. "And I think he's a very good, very smart boy, we should listen to him."
"Well, if that's what you think."
With the way Alfred's face was positioned, he couldn't see Ivan fully, but he heard the robe drop to the floor. Heard Ivan's footsteps hit the ground as he moved towards the bed.
"Go hang that up, you heathen," Maddie scolded.
Alfred tried not to sigh in frustration, in delayed gratification, as he heard Ivan double back to do as he was told. It was only a few seconds, but-
-it wasn't even enough seconds to finish that thought. The bed dipped. Alfred had expected Ivan to get in bed beside Maddie.
Instead, he slid in beside Alfred. He reached over him, not touching his clothed body though, but rather grabbing the remote, turning off the TV. The silence blanketed them for a few moments, Alfred pulling his mouth away from Maddie's nipple to turn to look at Ivan.
"Hey-"
Ivan's hand wrapped around the back of his head. He led Alfred forward.
He could feel Ivan's erection against his leg as they began to kiss.
Much like when he'd seen the two of them kiss, Ivan kissed him slower than Maddie had. There was something grounding about it, like he was helping to calm Alfred's mind, to drain him of all ability to think coherently, or to even worry about how to think coherently. His brain was empty and he was happy, because his mouth was full. Ivan's tongue worked his mouth open, and Alfred shook slightly.
Maddie touched him from behind. Her fingernails lightly grazed up and down his back, before she spilled forth to start kissing along the back of his neck, then against his shoulders, through his shirt.
Ivan's fingers had moved to the front of his shirt, undoing button after button. Alfred's attempts to speak or explain his body or apologize were all stolen as the kissing continued, even as he felt his shoulders shake the fabric of his shirt away, leaving the top of his body clad only in his binder.
Ivan broke the kiss, his eyes raking over Alfred, before Maddie began to work the binder off overhead from behind. Alfred could do nothing but lift his arms to help her.
"He's shy, give him a chance to breathe," Maddie said. It was probably the first time anyone had ever called Alfred shy in his life.
He would have protested.
But he was too distracted by the other major first here.
And that was Maddie slipping her arms around him from behind to cup his chest in her hands. She squeezed him, not nearly as gently as he'd done to her, and the sharpness from compacting himself all day in his binder, being released, then being constrained in a new way made him cry out.
The pain was definitely not unwelcome, though. He looked at Ivan, helpless, and Ivan kissed his forehead, before plucking his glasses away, setting them aside.
"So cute," Ivan managed to make even the condescension sound somewhat sincere.
Or maybe Alfred was just starved for confirmation that he was desired.
Maddie pinched his nipples. He yelped, and then sighed as Ivan began to bite the side of his neck. Sharper than Maddie had, though in one of the same areas she'd already marked. He could feel the bruise already starting to form, to deepen. He didn't bother chasing it with a kiss, letting the sting linger on its own, to take its own unique effect on Alfred's body as he pulled back.
Alfred tried to lean forward to press his mouth to Ivan's neck, the scars more clear in the front, but Ivan evaded him, pulling back at first, then grabbing a fistful of Alfred's hair. He yanked his face upward, then kissed him harder than before. It wasn't exactly punishing, but it was more advanced, a sort of trigonometry that Alfred's tongue didn't yet know how to compute. They fumbled their equations together, or at least Alfred fumbled.
Nothing about Ivan seemed capable of fumbling.
Maddie's hands dropped, teasing along Alfred's stomach. Alfred tried to suck it in, only for her to aggressively undo the button of his jeans. Once she had a little leverage, she slipped her hand into the waistband, resting her touch directly over his boxers, over the bulge of his packer.
"Do you think they make cages small enough for your little cocklet, Alfred?" She murmured against the shell of his ear. "Or maybe we should just pierce it. I can put a little chain on you-"
"My packer? Or my clit?" He asked, breathy laugh to try to mask any intrigue.
"Please don't use the word cocklet during a serious threesome," Ivan nearly whined, the tone startling Alfred. There was a familiarity to that sense of frustration, a casual sort of history, an ease to Ivan to allow himself to sound irritated in a moment of passion that, Alfred suspected, he wouldn't have lowered his guard enough to do with Alfred alone.
Yet.
Maybe, with enough experience, they'd get there together too.
"I think it's hot," Maddie said.
Alfred gasped as Maddie plucked at his boxers, tugging back the waistband, her other hand sliding directly into them. He felt her touch graze against his cunt, but her focus seemed to be on the prosthesis, pulling out the silicone cock, then tossing it across the room as though it were nothing at all.
He should have been offended. He was deeply, deliriously captivated.
"Hot? There's demeaning, and then there's ridiculous."
"Oh come on. Look at him. He's such a pretty, sweet little boy. I bet he has the tiniest, prettiest little pecker you've ever seen."
"…I, uh, I don't have a-"
"He may be pretty, and a little pitiful, but he's still a man, Madeline. You cannot just treat him like a-"
"Like what?" She kissed Alfred's cheek from the side, before resting her chin against his shoulder. "Alfred's just a vessel of holes for us to fill. His teeny tiny little dick is completely useless except as an accessory. I can't wait to play with him more."
Ivan rolled his eyes.
Alfred's cunt was dripping.
And Maddie was resting her hand against it now that the packer was gone, hand back in his underwear. His chest felt sore and abandoned.
Ivan leaned forward, as though he was going to kiss Alfred, but then avoided his mouth entirely, moving towards his shoulder. No, moving towards Maddie. They kissed as Maddie's fingers began to move, spreading him open for just a moment, a lewd second of exploration. And then the pad of her thumb was rotating against his clit.
He could hear them kissing each other, and she was touching him as though he was just a fidget toy to occupy her time.
He trembled, their bodies crushing him from either side.
"You should use his mouth while he uses mine," Maddie said after their wet kissing ended.
Alfred felt Ivan pinch one of his nipples, keeping it clamped between his touch in rhythmic ministrations. Alfred dropped his head to rest against Ivan's shoulder, the nearest thing to him, before Ivan pulled back, forcing him to lift his head again.
Ivan released his nipple, to instead stroke a finger along Alfred's bottom lip. "Do you want me to fuck your mouth?"
It felt even more lewd that way, fucking his mouth, rather than asking if he wanted to suck his dick. As though Alfred had no agency at all.
"Uh huh," Alfred said dumbly.
And then Maddie pulled her hand out of Alfred's pants. It should have brought more clarity, but he just whined.
"You'll have to wait," Ivan said then. He effortlessly moved Alfred, grabbing him and flipping them, setting Alfred on the other side of him, then sliding up to Maddie. Alfred watched, confused, as he lifted Maddie.
Maddie's legs dangled limply for a moment, before Ivan situated her into his lap. He sat so that his back rested against the headboard. Her hands sprawled against his chest, her hair a mess, and the heels were still on her feet.
Those finally gave Ivan pause, even as he gave his own cock a few strokes of his hand. "Those are new."
"Alfred bought them for me."
"Why?"
Alfred expected her to out his peculiarities.
But maybe she wanted him to find out on his own. She just smiled. "He's kind."
"And reckless with his money."
"Not all of us are so anti-materialism-" She squealed at the end of the last word, as Ivan grabbed her hips and pulled her upward.
Alfred watched in shock at how brutally he pulled her down directly onto his cock, making her sit upon it.
She barely reacted, beyond a very soft moan, her eyes fixed down to stare at the way his cock entered her. He carefully spread her thighs, perhaps to get deeper, perhaps to give her a better view.
It certainly gave Alfred an incredible view, that was undeniable.
Maddie moved her hands to rest against his shoulders, as he squeezed her hips. Ivan's hands looked rough, possessive, and Alfred wondered if it would hurt her if she was able to feel them. He could see the very faintest traces of bruises against her thighs now, the evidence of his ownership over her.
Of course, even from this perspective, to Alfred, it looked like Maddie held all the cards in this game. Ivan looked at her with complete devotion, even as he moved her body up by her hips, then brutally pulled her back down onto himself.
A small moan. Maddie looked over at Alfred, her eyes hazy with lust. "He's so big, Alfred. It's all I can think about, even before I can start to feel it." She looked down, staring as he moved her up and down, like some sort of glorified cocksleeve, her hands sliding down Ivan's chest to softly caress his nipples affectionately. "He's just such a pathetic creature of lust. He can't resist me at all. Can you, Ivan?"
"No," Ivan breathed, smiling, his eyes bright. Happy. Devoted. Voice almost submissive even, despite the fact he had the physical power here, despite the fact he was fucking her.
"You're just my little whore, aren't you? My living, breathing dildo of a man."
It was a goofy way to phrase it. And yet Alfred had the sudden urge to touch himself, to finger himself to completion, just at the sound of her lustful voice, her demeaning words.
The sound of their skin smacking together, the sight of her breasts jiggling with every thrust, the way she moved her hand to tangle into his hair, Alfred just couldn't get enough of looking, of staring, of longing. She looked over at him again, locking eyes, smiling.
"Come here," She said.
He scrambled forward, uncertain what his contribution would be here. Ivan bounced her on her cock, kissing seemed to be out because of the intensity of the motion.
One hand in Ivan's hair, roughly tugging on it and holding herself into place, her other snaked down the front of Alfred's body, teasing over his cunt once more. One finger eased over his clit again. She teased it, rubbing, and Alfred nearly fell back just from the rush of pleasure that another person's touch, inexperienced with his body, could bring him.
"When you touch yourself, are you more clitoral or more into penetration?" The way she said it reminded him of her profession. He wondered if that was the sort of thing she'd ask during therapy.
He found it oddly relaxing. And an honor, even, to be the subject of her attention.
"Um, I usually use, like, bullet vibes and—yeah. Clitoral."
"I think you'll look so cute taking Ivan's cock. But we want you to feel good." She looked at Ivan, pulling his hair roughly. His fingers squeezed her hips, his lips grimacing for just a moment, before melting into a moan of his own. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes," He groaned. "We're here for your pleasure, Alfred."
"No. You're both here for my pleasure. You're just lucky I'm so generous," Maddie leaned forward, even with her body bouncing upon Ivan, and she kissed the tip of Ivan's nose softly. "Don't you feel lucky?"
"Every day that I wake up next to you, yes."
"…oh. That's sweet." She kissed him again, moving to press her thumb against his clit instead, her middle and ring fingers teasing against Alfred's entrance. They eased into him, aided by just how wet he was. He felt the tips of her fingers flicker upward, teasing around the periphery of the hole, before she relaxed them, sinking her touch in deeper, deeper. Despite his tightness, he took her effortlessly, kneeling upon the bed, thighs spread.
Alfred whined as her fingers, straight for the moment, moved into the second knuckle, before coiling upward once again. He strained upward in response, back rigid-straight, as she beckoned within him. Each touch left him more breathless than the last.
All the while, Ivan kept moving Maddie upon him, fucking up into her body. Sweat glistened on his brow. Alfred looked at him.
And then, with a sense of boldness he hardly realized he possessed in a moment like this, he asked, "Can we kiss?"
Ivan looked at him in surprise. He offered a quick nod, as Alfred struggled to move closer while Maddie's fingers began to thrust within him. Her fingers seemed to circle with her thrusts. Moving up and in and out and in and up and—it was a carousel of absolute ecstasy.
Ivan groaned against his lips as they began to kiss. Every bounce of the bed springs, every motion of Maddie's body, every flicker of her fingertips, every flutter of his lips.
Alfred heard Maddie cry out. He broke the kiss, looking back to see the way her head fell back. Her hand fell away from Ivan's hair, though the fingers within Alfred continued their frantic movements. She slumped forward, Ivan's own movements slowing, seemingly deeper but less rapid, concentration upon his face. Alfred watched the way Maddie shuddered and shook, listened to the pretty sounds she made, and he felt his own body twist and tense with his mounting pleasure.
Maddie's body collapsed mostly-limp against Ivan's chest as he continued to move her up and down against himself, chasing his own orgasm, as she gasped for breath. Her fingers stretched and stroked and thrust within Alfred.
The suddenness of it all completely threw Alfred over the edge. He rutted down against Maddie's hand, against the subtle scrape of her engagement ring, as he felt himself tighten around her fingers. He came, hard, desperate, moaning with absolute desperation and abandon. Her fingers began to slow, but his own hips continued to jerk and roll against her touch with utter desperation.
He was shocked by how wet he was. Spilling down her hand, her wrist, staining the blankets.
She drew her fingers out of him, dragging them against his inner walls up to the last minute. And then, as Ivan began to fuck more desperately upward, she shoved her fingers into his mouth. He grasped her wrist, sucking them clean. Alfred wanted to look away in shame, but instead he stared, transfixed, at the way Ivan tasted him on Maddie's fingers.
Ivan pulled Maddie down sharply, crying out. Alfred watched the way he clung to her, barely able to catch his own breath as Ivan came inside his fiancee.
And then Ivan collapsed back against the headboard, pulling Maddie down on him in the process. She curled up against his chest, but reached out, grabbing Alfred and tugging him over to them. He found himself laying against Maddie's back, curled up against the warmth of her, of both of them.
"Wow," Alfred finally managed to say.
"Not done yet," Maddie said, though her voice was muffled by Ivan's chest.
Alfred couldn't imagine they could go much further. And yet the fact she wasn't through with him only filled him with further delight.
Ivan lifted Maddie's hips, pulling her off of him. His come and her wetness dripped down her inner thighs, leaving droplets against the bedspread. Once she was back on the bed, she used her hands to turn herself around, facing Alfred.
"Come here," She said, beckoning Alfred close. Alfred shuffled closer, and she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling her head under his chin, letting him hold onto her. They cuddled for a few moments in silence, before he felt her start to touch his chest again, squeezing him, caressing him.
He took her by the shoulders, guiding her back, just enough to be able to access her mouth. He kissed her, slowly, sweetly, taking the opportunity to suck on her bottom lip, to find a moment of power. It was short lived, as she quickly turned the tables back on him, pushing against him until he fell flat onto his back, her own body laying atop him.
"I don't know what I want to see first," She admitted between kisses. "I want his dick in your mouth, but I want him to fuck you too. And I don't know if he can handle all of that in one evening."
Ivan laughed from his position against the headboard. "You think I'm so old I cannot handle you both?"
"Yes," She teased. No longer kissing, she cuddled up against Alfred once again. He let his arms ensnare her close, gently rubbing her back. He teased his finger up and down her spine.
Without realizing it, he found himself drifting off. One minute, they were flirting, cuddling, kissing. The next, her touch became rhythmic and soothing, her body warm, and Alfred fell asleep.
He wasn't sure how long he was out. When he woke up again, Ivan was pulling a blanket over him. Maddie was still curled up against him, her own eyes closed. Ivan smiled softly as Alfred's eyes met his.
"Sorry," Alfred said softly. "Between the flight and the mind-blowing orgasm-"
"A fingerfuck can hardly be considered mind-blowing. Even with fingers as pretty as hers."
Alfred started to sit up, but the weight of Maddie's head against him reminded him not to wake her. He lounged back again, shrugging with a little grin. "Yeah, well…" He laughed a little, realizing he had no argument to offer.
"And you both assumed I was too old to handle things. Shameful, to make such assumptions."
"I know, man. Sorr—holy fuck are you hard again?"
"Two beautiful, naked, willing young things in my bed? Yes. I'm absolutely hard."
Alfred tried not to stare at his cock. He really did try. He just wasn't very good about controlling himself.
"I should, like, help you out with that," Alfred finally said.
Ivan looked at him for a long moment, quiet, and Alfred wondered if he'd misspoken, if perhaps he was offering something that was unwanted.
And then Ivan reached over, nudging Maddie's shoulder.
Maddie groaned, her eyelashes fluttering, as she looked at Alfred first, then at Ivan. "What?" She asked croakily.
"Alfred wants your permission to suck me off."
"I do?" Alfred asked, not so much confused at the implication he'd be sucking dick, but that Ivan was asking as though his dick was Madeline's property and therefore required a permission slip.
Or maybe it was Alfred's mouth that was property.
Maddie yawned, stretching her arms, and then nodding. "That's what I wanted to begin with. I hope he can taste me on your skin."
Ivan smiled. "If he's lucky, he will." He moved back, once again situated against the headboard, his legs spread lewdly. Alfred stared, as Ivan went for Maddie's signature move, beckoning him over with his fingertip.
"I think your better half is rubbing off on you," Alfred teased, even as he started to crawl on his hands and knees over to where Ivan was seated. The bed jiggled under his movements, discombobulating his already swaying equilibrium.
"I'd hope so," Maddie said. "I rub him off often enough as it is, he'd better be getting something out of it."
Alfred sat back upon his heels once he was between Ivan's legs. His earlier attempt to get Maddie off with his mouth left him a little unsteady here. Ivan was so thick, long, intimidatingly masculine. He stared at his cock and wondered if he really would fit.
And wondered why his mouth was watering with so much anticipation at the idea of trying.
"Keep your ass up in the air, Al," Maddie said.
Alfred rose back onto his knees, sinking the front of his body down onto his elbows. He could feel the way the position exposed him, and glanced back, mortified to see that Maddie was making no secret out of staring at him. "Maddie, come on-"
"What? Don't I deserve a show at least?"
"You deserve everything your heart could desire," Ivan said. There wasn't a hint of humor to his words. Alfred glanced back at him, smiling a little at how purely he seemed to love the woman who was currently ogling his cunt and asshole with unbridled abandon.
Jesus Christ. How was this evening real?
It was better, he thought, to just get to action, rather than to continue thinking so fully.
Shuffling a bit closer, his tongue poked out of his mouth, and he traced it up the underside of Ivan's cock, from the base, up to the tip. Ivan breathed softly, the faintest of pleased sounds, as Alfred pressed a kiss to the head of his cock.
He heard the bed shift, anticipated her touch, and yet when Maddie gripped his ass firmly, it still made Alfred yelp in surprise.
"What's your philosophy on anal sex, Alfred?" She asked. Both of her hands squeezed his ass, two firm handfuls that made him feel desperately exposed.
"My philosophy is…is…um—hey, hey, I'm trying to answer the question," He whined, as Ivan pressed firmly against the back of his head. His hands splayed out, grasping at Ivan's thighs, as another firm press forced his mouth against his cock.
"She's just trying to tease you."
"Yeah, but I like hearing her teasing—settle down, Ivan! Holy fuck!" Alfred sputtered as another push forced his lips against the tip. "I'm talking! What if I accidentally masticate your member or something?"
Maddie laughed. Ivan sighed.
Still, Alfred could take a hint. Whether he could take a cock too, he wasn't sure, but he could at least try. He ran his tongue over the head again, flat this time, letting as much of his tongue cover him as he could, before he drew back, breath husky. "My anal sex philosophy is, uh, probably not on a full stomach, and lots of lube. …is that the progressive stance? I don't want you to think I'm some sort of prude."
"You're still a little prudish, but it's okay, it's part of your charm." She moved her hands, caressing his hips instead.
Alfred curled his lips around his teeth, a hopefully protective layer, as he opened wide, taking the head of Ivan's cock into his mouth. He clamped his mouth down around it, suctioning inward, and delighted in the way Ivan gasped in response.
That victory was stolen by the sudden feeling of Maddie's tongue prodding at his cunt from behind.
"I guess I am the one graced with a show here," Ivan said, delight evident in his semi-hitched voice. Alfred was grateful that he couldn't speak now, sinking his mouth down inch after inch, feeling Ivan fill his mouth and veer towards the back of his throat. The feeling was stifling, mesmerizing, and claustrophobic all at once, but somehow even with the negative connotations mixed in, it all sort of collided in a pleasant way.
Even the way his lips stretched and mouth burned, he kind of liked the pain.
Maddie's tongue lapped at him, eagerly tracing over his cunt, pressing just so inside. Alfred jerked against the feeling, focusing on his breathing as best as he could, as he slipped his mouth down Ivan's length. He moaned against him as Maddie's tongue penetrated him.
So much for being more into clit stimulation than penetration.
One of Maddie's hands gripped his hip, the other slipping around to the front of him, as she began to stroke his clit with her fingers instead.
Okay. Yeah. He was definitely still clitoral after all.
Alfred drew his mouth back, breathing heavy through his nose, before taking himself back down again. He was pleased at himself for being able to take more this time. Ivan brushed his fingers through his hair, softly murmuring a small, "Good boy," that jolted straight through Alfred's soul, and right between his goddamn legs.
Maddie continued to eat him out from behind.
And Alfred was in utter bliss. Any chances for jealousy had long been shattered. Who had time for that, when they had a mouth full of cock and a cunt full of tongue?
This was what he was built for.
"Alfred," Ivan moaned. "I don't—" He shivered, "—I don't want you to take this the wrong way."
Alfred started to pull back, to reassure, but Ivan shook his head, gently pushing against the top of his head to keep him from separating.
"Let me fuck your mouth," He said, a desperation to his tone. "You are doing so good. You are so good, so so good, such a good boy-"
Maddie pulled her mouth away, kissing the back of Alfred's thigh, and laughing softly. "He's so desperate to use you, Alfred, but he's afraid you're going to be afraid of his dominating attitudes."
"I don't think you'll be afraid. I think—I worry you'll find it unpleasant."
Alfred's mouth had stilled, still full, as he looked up at Ivan.
Maddie flicked her tongue against his cunt, drawing a muffled squeak from him. "Blink 3 times if it's okay for Ivan to use your mouth hard and deep."
Alfred felt his eyelashes start to flutter downward. He offered his blinks, his consent.
And Ivan grabbed onto his head, roughly tangling fingers into his hair, as he forced his face down upon his cock. Ivan thrust upward at the same time. The feeling was startling, almost scary even, Alfred's eyes wide and breathing passages narrowed. He pressed at Ivan's hands, not quite trying to push away, but just trying to get some stability.
Ivan started to pull him back, a moment of reprieve, before he roughly forced him down again. Alfred gurgled, graceless and perhaps unattractive, but Ivan moaned so loudly in response to the feeling of his mouth, his throat, that Alfred suspected he didn't mind at all how pretty any of this was.
And Maddie began to fuck him with her tongue at the same time, at first a little frenzied, then falling back, exploring, more fluid feeling than her fingers had been, but finding areas that fingers simply weren't flexible enough to explore. She continued to stroke and tease his clit with her hand at the same time, thumb and index finger mostly. In a way, it almost felt like she was actively trying to jerk him off.
There was a thrilling sense of gender euphoria to the illusion of it. He shivered pleasantly, then gurgled as Ivan began fucking his throat even more brutally.
They worked their magic together, keeping him filled from both ends. Alfred wondered if they'd ever reverse the roles, his mouth between Maddie's legs once more, but he supposed she wasn't physically capable of this sort of brutality. It would likely reverse the order of which parts of him were brutalized too then.
The very idea of Ivan fucking him this hard and careless, not in his mouth but in his cunt, or even his ass, somehow only amplified the lust, as if even the fantasy was an active character in the play they were putting on.
Maddie flicked and thrust her tongue, and Alfred found himself coming once again, uncorked and unhinged, hips gyrating back against her mouth, the shape of her nose, the plush textures of her adorable face. He hoped he didn't look like a fool, but it was hard to hold onto so much insecurity when she was making him feel so good.
His throat was burning. His scalp ached from the way Ivan scratched at his flesh and pulled on his hair. His lips felt as though any moment would make them tear. Certainly his mouth would be bruised after all this.
It was brutal. It was unrelenting. It was unbelievable.
It was the greatest joy he'd ever known in years. Certainly the most pleasure he'd ever known as an adult.
Still feeling the highs of his own orgasm, he felt the pitch of Ivan's movements grow more delirious. Ivan's voice was brittle, a cry, perhaps an attempt at begging for permission, for consent, but rather than asking, he opted instead to take.
Or to give, really, that might have been a more accurate description.
The feeling of him coming in his mouth left Alfred without words. He couldn't articulate in his mind how anything tasted, how anything felt. All he could do was swallow.
And swallow he did. Gulping around Ivan, mouth too full to leave much of any choice but to work through it. His tongue lulled over Ivan as he tried to take all of him that he could. Maddie had pulled her tongue out of him, her body lightly draped against his back, her chin softly resting against his spine.
Ivan tugged his cock free from Alfred's lips, though Alfred was still flopped against him, a trickle of come leaking out of his lips. They felt swollen, the feeling of his ejaculate leaving him sticky and raw, dripping down his chin. He wanted to move to wipe it away, but he couldn't seem to operate his body at the moment.
"Oh." Maddie moved upward. "Oh, Ivan, help him."
"Hm?" Ivan made a noncommittal sort of sound, or so Alfred assumed it was, until he was being scooped up, pulled into Ivan's hold. Alfred could feel the world shaking, only to realize it was his own body trembling.
"Fuck," Maddie whispered. "Oh. Fuck. Fuck! Ivan, help me come up there, I…"
Alfred felt another shift in the world, trying to figure out what was happening. Ivan moved again, still clinging to Alfred, but he must have grabbed Maddie, because it wasn't long before Alfred felt himself being nestled between both of them, snuggled into the blankets and pillows, Maddie's hand softly petting his hair (and his sore scalp), and his cheek, her touch at some point clearing away the come from his lips and chin before it could drip further down his body.
Ivan wasn't petting nearly as frantically, but he was cuddling Alfred up to him, effectively spooning him, Alfred's back against Ivan's chest. He pressed sporadic kisses to the back of his head and, at times, the backs of his shoulders. Once, he snuck a kiss to the base of the back of his neck.
The feeling was warm, enveloping, complete, and Alfred could feel his brain start to come back out of it, a fog starting to lift, only to settle again the more he started to think about all that they'd done.
"Sorry-" He tried to say, only to start coughing. "I don't—what's-"
"Shhh," Maddie kissed the tip of his nose. "It was a lot. We put you through too much. Oh, oh, Ivan, I think I put him through too much, I-"
"He's alright," Ivan said. His hand moved away from Alfred's stomach, where it had been resting casually, to instead softly skitter up and down Maddie's bare hip, her side, then back down again, softly rubbing against her thigh. "You're both okay. You're safe."
Alfred laughed, shaky, the fog once again starting to lift. "Obviously we're safe. You guys live in a very nice neighborhood."
"It could be better," Ivan said.
"…I thought you were going to start lecturing about gentrification or something," Maddie said, her voice starting to sound a little less frantic. Alfred looked at her, her flushed face and messy hair. She was so beautiful.
And then his eyes dropped down, to her lush body, her perky breasts, her soft pussy.
Her high heels, still carefully wrapped to her feet.
"You have really nice toes," He said. "Even without a pedicure, you really make those shoes work."
"Is he gay or a foot fetishist?" Ivan asked bluntly.
Maddie giggled. How Alfred longed for a lifetime of those giggles. May he never have to go back online to have to search the world and his followers to try to unearth her again, to have to rediscover the mysteries of the girl he'd loved even all those years ago, when he'd been at his most broken. "That's the best part, Ivan. He's both."
"Oh my God," Alfred groaned. "I am not. I just appreciate the finer things in life."
"Is that in reference to gay sex or feet?"
"I'm not answering anymore questions, Professor," Alfred said. He snuggled against the pillow, ready for a nice night of rest. After all, he'd have to figure out his return flight at some point. "…wait. Are you…are you seriously hard again?"
"And he always sleeps naked too," Maddie said. "You can imagine the state that leaves me in. And my poor sheets, with all his nocturnal emissions."
"I'm going to have the board revoke your license for shaming a vulnerable member of the public," Ivan said.
"Yeah, and call adult protective services while you're at it. I'm engaging in elder abuse." Maddie rolled her eyes, then kissed Alfred's forehead. She smiled softly. "And then call the pound, because I'm about to beat this pussy while we're at it."
"You're such a freak," Alfred scoffed.
"I know. I'm your freak."
Alfred smiled. "Yeah," He agreed. "You are. Both of you."