| No rights infringement intended. No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended. Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. May contain strong sexual scenes, violence, coarse language, drug use, horror and adult themes. Okay I really need a life, but ever since I wrote the word 'spanking' at the end of my last smut story this thing has been kicking at me like you would not believe. Now if that line doesn't chase away the more well mannered of y'all, enjoy. Title: Costume Author: Carla Jane Address: jimcarla@hotmail.com Rating: NC17, slash, pwp Summary: Alex in a dress, yeah, like that's a plot Date: October 1999 Disclaimers: Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own these characters. I don't. On the other hand I'm not after any profit from this...just a bit of kinky entertainment so if you would, could you please excuse my petty pilfering ladies and gentlemen? |
Richard Sharpe realised the pile of mistakes he was amassing was impressive. It had been less than sensible to have a sexual encounter with a fellow trainee. Sharpe had compounded the error by allowing the fling to turn into an affair. When he and Andrews had been assigned to the same unit after being put into the field they should have stepped back to a professional distance, instead they had foolishly chosen to share a small flat.
Richard had told himself they were simply selecting each other for roommates because it was the logical thing to do. Most of the single guys in their line did it. None of them were home for long enough periods to justify paying full pop on a flat. When living with a teammate you didn't have massive security problems if your roommate accidentally intercepted an important call or poked into your business. It meant there was always someone about to hang out with who didn't question your peculiar hours or secretive attitude.
But then again, Sharpe doubted any of those guys were fucking around with their mates on a regular basis. None of those guys had Alexander Andrews sharing their flats though. It was easier to contain an explosion with your bare hands than to say 'no' to Andrews.
The kid was the ideal team-mate on the job; a stone cold professional who was absolutely ruthless about accomplishing the mission objective. As far as Richard could see he never made any attempt to curry favouritism with their superiors and he gave Sharpe full credit for any exceptional performance. If they were out pub-crawling with some of the lads Andrews handled his booze and women just like every other guy in the squad, if not a little better. He didn't drink as much and the ladies practically fell at the kid's feet.
Still, when he and Richard were alone together with the door closed on the outside world Alexander was a force of nature, primal and almost uncontrollable.
The biggest mistake however, Sharpe decided, was allowing what should have been a 'buddy fuck' to grow into something more. The first time they didn't withdraw to their separate rooms after tangling the sheets was the beginning of a quick slide down a slippery slope into dangerous territory.
So it was that Richard Sharpe found himself sitting on the couch in their sparse living-room not two hours after returning from an assignment that was nearly the death of both of them when he should have been out prowling for a willing lady or two to reaffirm life with. He sat because Andrews had said 'please' with such an eager puppy look on his face.
Five minutes, he'd give the little brat five more minutes then he was going skirt chasing.
Just as Richard was grabbing up his jacket to go out there was a light knock at the door. Sharpe dropped the brown leather and crossed the room. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found on the other side of the door.
Catholic schoolgirls were not supposed to be six feet tall with smouldering dark green eyes but the vision in Sharpe's hallway contradicted that idea. The costume was as authentic as they came; a navy jacket with a colourful crest on the breast, a crisp white blouse, a plaid skirt, white socks and shiny leather shoes.
"Alexis." The fingers that waved a sketchy hello were too thick for a woman but the long painted nails were impeccable. "You must be Richard. My cousin told me you'd be here."
Thankfully Andrews made no attempt to alter his usual husky voice. Sharpe had too many memories of that voice whispering intoxicating obscenities in his ear. He loved the kid's voice.
"So, you've the manners of a gutter whelp as well as the pedigree. Don't bother to invite me in. I can deduce the path myself. Blessed Mary." Alexander brushed past in a perfect impersonation of how those uppity rich girls had treated Richard all those years ago. Some, too sweet, floral perfume tickled Sharpe's nose as they passed. The wig was a match for Alexander's almost black brown hair and it was plaited into two tidy pigtails. "So Richard?" Andrews settled on the couch, minimising his disturbing height. "When do you expect my cousin to wander his way….oh my." The kid's eyes suddenly widened as he looked up at Sharpe, almost as if he were actually seeing the older man for the first time. "Xander didn't tell me his roommate was such an attractive man."
"Shite." Richard swung the door shut and tried to decide what to do about his lover's bizarre behaviour. Damn, but the kid didn't even come off as silly despite the get-up. He looked good this way. The mascara and shadow made his eyes look even more seductive than usual and his odd size was nicely balanced by his natural poise.
He had confessed the old daydream to Andrews in an effort to help pass the time a few weeks ago while pinned down with nothing to do then promptly forgotten the incident in the rush of action that had followed. Sharpe wasn't sure if he should be regretting the casual mid-mission conversation that had provoked this scenario or if he was grateful. "I weren't expecting…" He let the sentence trail off unfinished.
"Neither was I, but aren't we the lucky pair." Alexander's legs lifted to lie decoratively across the sofa. "Come sit with me, Richard." A narrow space remained near the kid's leather encased feet. "Xander mentioned that you were quite the accomplished soldier. Did you just get in from a mission?"
"Yeah." Sharpe settled down beside his lover. "I'm kind of surprised that Xander ain't roaring to go out." He let a tight smile curve his mouth, relaxing into the game. "Gun-fights usually get him hornier than an alley-cat and the bullets were flying not six hours ago." Richard ran a finger up the pristine white of Alexander's ankle sock. He couldn't help but notice the kid hand shaved his legs for the part he was playing. "But then he's probably fucking with someone right now." Sharpe used the profanity on purpose and was pleased to see Andrews feign an embarrassed blush.
"Richard Sharpe." Alex sat up. "You either mind your manners or I'll tell my cousin what an absolute brute you are."
Richard's disappointment at loosing tactile contact was tempered by the fact Alexander's uniform skirt was riding up quite nicely. Unlike all those fussy schoolgirls from St. Mary's, a convent school on the edge of his old neighbourhood, Alex wasn't going to leave him with a deadly case of blue- balls. "Your cousin..." Sharpe felt a laugh tickle the back of his throat. "…is a slutty little whore who's very happy when I behave like a brute and so are you, I expect."
Alexander blinked in surprise, his eyebrows lifting. Painted lips parted creating too much of a temptation for Sharpe to resist. The older man closed the distance between them and, catching Alex by the neck, pulled him in for a kiss. The kid squirmed and squeaked a protest as Richard's tongue invaded his mouth. The hollow struggle contained not one ounce of the skill Sharpe knew Andrews was capable of. Then there was the fact that Alex never refused a kiss. It only took a few minutes of searching lip contact before the kid practically melted into Richard's hold.
A gentle shove to Alexander's left shoulder was all it took to ease him sideways and onto his back. In no time flat they were laid out on the couch necking like a couple of teenagers.
Richard could hardly believe it. Almost every detail of the fantasy he had confided in Alexander was perfect down to the cherry flavoured lipstick. The only glaring flaw was the stiff erection under the plaid skirt. "Sweet baby." Sharpe's mouth dragged down the kid's chin to his throat. One of his hands yanked at the waist of Alex's blouse attempting to destroy the snug tuck-in job. He had to know what was causing the slight curve at Andrew's chest.
"Mark me, Richard." The request was hoarse. "I want a hickey to show the girls at school. Please."
Sharpe kissed lower searching for just the right spot. He liked the way the body under him shivered in eager anticipation. He latched on just as the waistband of the skirt released. The bottom button of the delicate shirt went flying across the room in reaction to the abrupt pull.
Alexander's hips jerked and a squeak of delight escaped his chest. "Oh Richard." His hand tightened its grip in the golden blonde hair. "That feels so good." Long legs lifted to wrap around Sharpe's hips and hold him tight, grinding enthusiastically into his lover.
"Lemmie…" Richard's face pressed to the small 'V' of skin that the blouse opening revealed while he continued to shove the garment up from the bottom. "Jeez." Sharpe pulled away and up to gaze at his lover. "I want…" He caught two handfuls of the pale shirt and tore it open. The delicate bra underneath was lightly padded and decorated with a tiny pink bow. The sight of it, framed by the torn blouse and rumpled blazer jumped Richard's pulse rate yet again.
"You look like a starving wolf." Alex made as if to close the damaged garment.
"Don't." Sharpe commanded. "I want to look at you, Alexis." He smiled at the stranger's name and reached down to trace the kid's smeared lips. "Lick my fingers."
Alex's lashes lowered. A threat of disobedience tinted his expression but still his tongue flicked out to dampen the pads of the older man's fingers.
"There's my good girl." Richard praised. He tickled a wet touch across Alexander's collarbone and down into the line of artificial cleavage. Once it dried he caught at the bit of strapping that connected the two cups and snapped it. "Pull your skirt up. Show me what you've got under there."
Reluctantly Alexander released his hold on Richard and dropped his hands to the hem of his kilt. He teased it up awkwardly without dropping his legs from around Sharpe's hips so their crotches continued to rub together at every twisting wiggle. Gradually lace trimmed white panties were revealed to the older man's gaze. The illusion was harder to hold at the sight of the damp, straining fabric.
A laugh slipped out of Richard's at the preposterous scene they must be presenting. "Slut. You're leaking." He accused in a good-natured tease as he used one finger to trace the clearly outlined erection.
Andrews hissed out an excited gasp and his hips bucked in reaction. "I want you Dickin." Alex discarded his adopted persona. "Fuck me. Do me now."
"What a filthy mouth you have little girl." Richard shoved at Andrews' legs, pushing them open. "The nuns would take a willow switch to your bottom if they heard that." He elaborated. "But since we've neither of those…" Sharpe broke free of his lover's hold, sat down and caught at the shoulder of Alex's blazer. "I'll have to see to it myself." Andrews look of honest surprise was satisfying. "Com'ere." Finding no resistance Richard pulled the kid across his lap with laughable ease. Alexander was heavier than he looked and long enough that his feet touched one end of the sofa at the same time his head touched the other. Still, it was easy to disregard the incongruities and concentrate simply on the behind propped over his lap, Sharpe concluded. He ran a reverent caress up the back of one leg easing the concealing plaid away. The calluses on his hand snagged lightly at the pure silk of the kid's panties. Tipping his palm inward Richard used the narrow edge to follow the hidden crevice between Alex's butt cheeks.
Andrews squirmed encouragement. "Dickin."
The first hard slap seemed to catch them both by surprise. Alexander let out a yelp. Sharpe stared at his hand as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done. "Richard." He corrected, his voice steadier than his nerves. "My name is Richard. No Dick. Not Dickin." He stroked the spot he'd just smacked. "No cutsey pet names."
"I like Dickin." Alex declared.
The second blow was even harder than the first. The force of it made Sharpe's palm tingle. "Richard." He repeated blandly. Hooking a fingertip under the lacy band at one leg, Richard ran a knuckle along soft skin. "You're going to have to say you want this." The older man murmured. His conscience wouldn't allow him to proceed without some kind of consent, although the rock solid hard-on pressing down into his lap was a good sign.
Alexander shivered. The kid was hiding his face in between his bent arms. The admission came in a halting whisper. "I get off on it when you hurt me, Dickin. I want. Do it. Don't stop even if I beg."
"You are seriously fucked-up, Xander." Richard moved his grip to the waistband of the silken garment and yanked hard, exposing slightly reddened skin. "But Lord help us both, I like it." He pinched.
The kid groaned deep in his throat and lifted his ass higher in invitation. Sharpe didn't even try to start slow and work his way gradually to more punishing slaps. Over the last four months he'd seen what kind of punishment Alex's body could accept without flinching. Christ, the kid had taken an hour's torture from a pair of pissed off terrorists and had shaken it off fast enough to break into the bastards' computer and copy the hard drive twenty minutes afterward. Richard put every bit of arm strength he had into each swat.
Alexander's body started off rigidly tense. His only response to the abuse was a set of low throaty noises at first. Sharpe's hand was stinging before the younger man's stiff posture began to desert him. At the first open-mouthed gasp Richard paused and repeated his demand. "What's my name?"
"Fuck…Dickin, me lovely, don't you know?" The arrogance of the remark was barely tainted by strain.
"Stubborn Bastard." Sharpe wished he'd thought to grab a prop. It was obvious that Alexander's ass was tougher than his palm. A stretching grab caught hold of the kid's ankle. "Gimmie this." Richard wrenched one of the neat black shoes off his lover, shifting it to hold it by the heel. The hard sole provoked a satisfying yelp of pain when it smacked down. Sharpe grinned fiercely and set himself to the task of painting Alex's behind a nice even bright red. With every resounding slam the kid's body sagged further and his vocalisations grew more honest. They even took on an edge of protest that Sharpe ignored.
"Stop, Dickin! Don't." Andrews struggled. "You're hurting me."
The older man simply tightened his jaw and kept one hand firmly on the small of Alexander's back, holding him in place for the harsh spanking until just the right phrase finally blurted out.
"RICHARD! PLEASE!" The kid's voice cracked on the plea, threatening tears.
Sharpe dropped the shoe immediately. His fingers brushed the damaged skin in front of him. "Shite. I'm sorry, Xander. I went too far."
"No." Andrews protested in desperate undertone. "Never. This is nothing." Alex squirmed frantically, turning over and sliding off Richard's lap. "Strip." He demanded. "I'm dying. Fuck me." Fingers grabbed at the fly of Sharpe's jeans, almost rending in their hurry.
"I've got it." Sharpe slapped the frantic hands away for fear of catching tender skin in the zipper. The opening was hard to work. His erection was straining the fly out of shape.
"Sonnabitch." Alexander reached, tearing the bunched up panties off himself then falling onto his back. "NOW!" He practically screamed the word.
Richard toed off the shoes that were stalling out his attempt to get out of his pants. "Yeah, yeah. Pushy bitch." He grumbled, kicking off the last pant-leg. Sharpe turned back to the sight of Andrews grabbing the backs of his own knees and pulling himself up until he was bent almost in half. "Christ yer a slut, Xander." Richard caught the lifted legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Touching the kid's ass caused a hiss of pain but no struggle. Sharpe pressed a thumb at the small pucker between Alex's cheeks. "Yer already greased."
"Of course." Andrews' tone was almost savage. "Now fuck me damn it. I can take it. Do me now."
Richard pressed the head of his cock to the burning hot ring intending a slow steady ease in but the kid was having nothing of that gentleness. With a breathtaking jerk of movement Alexander impaled himself in one painful thrust startling a scream of agony from himself.
"Stupid bloody fool." Sharpe seized his lover's hips for balance, his blunt nails almost digging into the skin. If Alex so much as breathed heavily Richard was going to lose his load. "Be still." He warned.
"Damn." The kid's head thumped violently back against the padded arm of the sofa. "That friggin hurts." His teeth bared in something that might have been a grin. "S'good."
"Idiot." Sharpe accused. Richard held his body still but he reached down with one hand to cup the back of his lover's skull, barely halting another bruising head bang. "Don't Xander." Sharpe tightened his grip. He'd seen the kid injure himself before to take his mind off another less-controllable pain. "Jest wait a bit. This part should never hurt."
Andrews' mouth opened as if to protest the statement but all that emerged were a few ragged pants. Gradually the kid's body relaxed under him, unclenching. Richard dared a shallow thrust of his hips, testing how close he was and was pleased to realise that he could hold back. Alex arched into the action like a cat, growling his pleasure. His head rubbed into Richard's hand demanding that the caress continue and leaving Sharpe to balance with a single arm. Alexander's legs bent even further on a back-pull to slip under Richard's arms and wrapped around his lover's hips.
"Yer gonna have to stroke yerself, Xander baby. I can't do yer." He told the other. "Bring yerself off. Lemmie see you do it, Sweet thing."
"Ah! Dickin." Alexander whimpered, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his weeping cock. "Keep talking."
"You want me to talk…or to fuck you through the couch?" Richard punctuated the choice with an extra hard hook of his hips.
"Yes. Both. Everything." Hitching gasps for air separated the words. "I want everything you've got." Andrews' fingers were a blur of movement. His heels were digging into Sharpe's back demanding something near brutality. "I want you to own me."
"Twisted slut." Richard accused breathlessly.
Alex almost laughed. "Your slut."
"Mine."
The word provoked an immediate response. Andrews pumping grasp stilled. The kid emitted a groan that sounded as if it had come from the depths of his soul and both his hands reached up to drag Richard down against him. "Say it again."
"Mine." Sharpe repeated while straining to continue thrusting despite the awkward position his lover had pulled him into. "Mine." His lips branded the word right into the skin of Alexander's throat.
Shudders began wracking Andrews' frame. His head pressed back forcefully enough to pin Richard's hand in place and the kid's voice threatened a full-throated scream. "Da. Da. Fuck. Darlin'. M'God." Nails dug into Sharpe's scalp. "Fuck. I love you. There's n'body like you, Dickin."
Richard felt the contractions start deep within his lover's
body, bearing painfully down on his cock. Alex was practically crying now but the only thing Sharpe could think about was the storm of sensation dragging at his own body. The last few pushes were almost agony before the firestorm hit. Richard's fingers clawed at the kid's hips holding him in place.
"Love you. Love you." Alexander was chanting the phrase now.
Sharpe collapsed heavily on the younger man, burying his face in the rough navy blue fabric. No more sound escaped the kid but Andrews' lips continued to move, brushing Richard's sweat dampened hair. The fantasy was enveloping; the cloth against his cheek, the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, the long nails playing across his skin. It was all there. Sharpe's body was heavy with contentment. He wiggled his hand free from behind his lover's head so he could toy with one long tail of soft hair. Their bodies gradually separated as both men straightened out their legs but neither of them moved to wipe up the sticky fluids between them.
"I really do love you, Dickin." Alex repeated in a quiet, carefully controlled tone. He smiled against the crown of Richard's head when the older man let out a put upon sigh at the declaration. "Don't worry about it, Dickin. I don't expect anything of you. I just do. It's no big thing."
"Xander, I wish you wouldn't. You and me, we're…" Sharpe floundered, not able to pick out the right word. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have at his back in a fire-fight and off duty they got along well enough but they weren't exactly friends. The kid was a killer in the sack but sex wasn't love.
"Don't worry about it, me Darlin." Andrews skated his fingers down Sharpe's spine. "We should tidy up and hit the pub. That pretty Spanish munitions expert said she wanted to buy us some beers."
"Teresa Moreno." Richard murmured into the lapel of Alex's jacket, rubbing his cheek into the thick cloth. "I think she fancies you, Xander. She was trying to get your phone number from Dawson."
"OUR phone number. YOUR'S I suspect." Alexander corrected. "She's too old for me anyhow." The kid teased. "You can have her. I prefer blondes." He nuzzled, tickling Sharpe's scalp.
Richard planted a kiss on Andrews' chest then heaved himself upright. His one hand trailed over the rumpled uniform as he rose. "This was a kick. Thanks Xander."
"Anything you want, Dickin. I told you that."
Richard had to turn away from the intensity in his lover's dark eyes. "We don't have to go out." He compromised, suspecting that the kid would rather crawl into bed and have another go. That idea had it's own merits; now he thought about it.
Alexander swung around, sitting up. He reached up and pulled off the wig, which was now askew. "I'm fucking hyped. You wouldn't be able to keep up with me tonight, Dickin me Darlin." The kid squirmed out of the torn, stained outfit. "I'm gonna find myself a couple of energetic girls to play with." He tossed the clothing onto a chair without care as to how it look to any guests they might have later. "Though I wouldn't say no to a little deep throat action in the shower, Gorgeous." His lips curved into an imp's smile.
"For you or me?" Richard teased, discarding what remained of his own clothes just as haphazardly.
"Yes." The kid responded vaguely before disappearing down the short hall that lead to the bedrooms and the loo.
So Alexander didn't think that Richard had the stamina to match him tonight. Sharpe wasn't entirely sure whether he should take up the challenge or let the dare slide and go out. On one hand Andrews wasn't about to disappear any time soon, while Teresa, the charming explosions expert was only on temporary loan to their team. On the other, Richard wasn't sure he wanted to waste the mood Alex was in on a couple of faceless pickups. Then again there was a good chance that Sharpe wouldn't be able to satisfy his lover tonight if Andrews was as charged up as all that. Best he take what he wanted in the shower then look for someone a little less exhausting to spend the entire night with. Besides, the rest of the team was going to start wondering about them if they didn't chase after some ladies tonight. As much fun as the kid was Richard had no desire to risk his promising position over the relationship. There was a damned good chance he'd bee team leader on the next mission if everything went the way it was supposed to.
Sharpe heard the sound of water pattering against the shower curtain through the open bathroom door. In the meantime they were still locked securely inside their own flat. Richard headed down the hall. There was no sense in wasting the opportunity awaiting him right now.
That's it. Milk and cookies time. eek, I think the next one might even have a plot. Teresa is demanding it. What's the world coming to?
