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“So you bailed on me last month.”“Um, did I? Ohhh – yeah, well only because of – what was it again that l - ? That I said I was doing?”“You used to be more afraid to feed me a load of old bullshit like that.”“Shall we go back to that?”“No. You told me it was because you were feeling under the weather, but I’ve since discovered - that wasn’t it at all. Turns out you squirreled yourself away in that backroom of yours and played that little game with your fucking friends instead.”“It was a – I’d forgotten all about it – it was a last minute live show. By its nature the whole No More Jockeys thing can go long - it did.”“Yes. No More Jockeys. Seems like a fun game. Let’s me and you have a go.”“Oh, uh - okay – now, is it? Do you know how to play?”“I’ve seen enough to get the basic concept. I was even present during an episode that never aired - if you’ll recall. Name a person. Name a category. And sometimes … inexplicably don a pink wig, finger fuck your favourite fruit, or have a complete and utter meltdown in Timothy’s tub. It’s a simple game, sure, but it’s full of flourishes. Come on then. Something tells me this game won’t go too long. Go on, start us off.”He shrugs, and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “Alex Horne. No more people who really are quite sorry that they attempted to deceive you.” He looks up at him with overblown puppy dog eyes.Greg frowns, his eyes squint, but are unable to conceal their glimmer of good humour.“So now you say … ”“We’ll be playing by my rules today. Every turn is your turn. You get one minute to say a person and to name a category they fit into. I wouldn’t make any more of them that obscure either if I were you, you won’t like what happens should you fail to Name Another. Your next minute starts as soon as the category is in play. If you fail to do so at any point, I get a minute for myself. Got it? Good. Let’s get a little more comfortable shall we, settle into the game a bit. Go get on the bed, your best pretty show dog pose for me, yeah.”Alex toes off his shoes and bounds round the corner into his room, kneels on the edge of the bed and falls forward onto his hands. Arches his back. Face forward. Chin up. Greg rounds the corner, eyes aflame. They burn through him, making his body blush, craving his touch. He strokes him, casually, removes his shirt, feeling out his shape, making slight adjustments to his posture and sets his phone up against the pillow, screen set to the same timer app Alex often used.He pauses the screen. 3:52:23. “Seems you’ve missed your first minute by some time now … ” He hauls down his pants, nails digging in at the hips, claws dragging down his ass cheeks. “You’ll be keeping track of the time as well, so don’t you dare try and cheat me.”“But – ”“Read my mind, he did.” Greg slowly inserts a lubed up anal plug. Its fluted glass tip cools his insides and begins to stretch him open. “I probably wouldn’t waste any more of my precious minute if I were you.”“Greg Davies.” Alex strains to keep an even tone as the girth of the tulip’s bulb reaches its maximum before his body snatches the stopper from his grasp. He sighs with relief. “No more people who make their own rules.”Greg chuckles. Alex stops the timer, but looks past it at the pillow.30.23. And restarts it from zero.“The Tooth Fairy? Yeah, I mean - I don’t think she’s coming up with that convoluted set of sneaky pillow rules, she’d make it easier on herself I reckon. The Tooth Fairy. No more wings.”35.21. Zero.He could feel Greg watching him. Listening. Waiting to catch him in a fuck up. He smiles into the mattress, taking his sweet time in order to come up with a properly good lure.“Count Dracula. No more names with consecutive starting letters."“In this case C and D."47.49. Zero.Alex almost immediately follows his finger’s touch by blurting out, “Bugs Bunny No More Catch Phrases.”3.46. Zero.He tries, unsuccessfully mind, to muffle his giggles, but it's his ribs in the end that give him away.“And what exactly are we finding so funny?”“I think you could’ve argued that Dracula quite frequently has wings. Or gets them. Dracula gets wings – sometimes. Too late now though.”Greg gives him a swift swat across the ass.“It’s not even your minute – yet.” Alex laughs as he’s spanked a second time causing the plug to jar inside him deliciously.“That's for being a smart ass. Besides … ” Greg twists the plug and then presses a firm palm against its stopper causing Alex to moan lowly. “I’m a person who you yourself just established makes my own rules, no?”“Yes, Greg. Clearly you are.”He scoffs through growing, wolfish grin. “You’re very vocal today. I like that. But … your minute’s almost up. Oh!” He leans across a heavily distracted Alex to stop and restart the timer. “Looks like I finally get another turn after all.”“You tricked me,” Alex murmurs, his words softened as they’re soaked up by the duvet.“Do you find it all terribly distracting?” He pulls the plug almost all the way out, watches as his body sucks it back in, and with a low growl, rakes his nails along his sides.Greg begins tacking a zipper along the edge of one set of his ribs. He traps the attached string, along with a pinch of skin, between each pin until the line stretches from arm pit to love handle.“Oops, seems I’ve gone well outside my allotted minute again, haven’t I? But - as we’ve established earlier … ?”“You make - and can therefore break - your own rules.”“And?”Alex thinks for a few seconds, “I should have been keeping better time?”“Good boy. Your minute.”Alex’s fingertip creeps up to tap the timer.2:22.22. He snorts. Zero.He’s silent for the first half of his allotted time. So much is still available to him, and yet, with distractions dulling his focus and the added pressure of the clock to contend with, any and all names seem to escape him.“Struggling a bit now I see.”“Simon Templar. No more – NO! Uh – ahhhh no – fuck.”The timer ticks over to 1:01.“You'd rather concede another minute to me then risk ending the game? So competitive, Alex.” He melts a bit at the way his name rolls off Greg’s tongue, who deftly tacks more pins onto the already established zipper, filling in the voids along its line.
Alex sees the minute approach and resets, but this time he’s ready. One already in the barrel.“Enya. No more beginning or ending in vowels.”“And I’ll add one to that, actually. No. More. Crutches.” His every word, punctuated with a spank, is followed quickly by the subsequent resounding clacks of the clothespins. “There’ll be no more Moses’ or Aksacs or - ”
“How many games have you seen?”
“All of them.” Greg moves to stand by the head of the bed, crouches down and waits until Alex’s gaze meets his. “There he is. It started as a nice way to see you more, when we weren’t really able to see that much of each other. After that I just became - invested in it. It’s a good game, it’s just - my version is better, that’s all.” He double taps the screen. “My minute.” He twists one of the pins. Lets his fingers play along the line. The tension is palpable across each pin as he tugs at the string, pulls the line taut. Greg delivers a strong upstroke spank, Alex sucks in a strained breath through gritted teeth which whistles as it slips through his distinctive gap. The wood clacks along with the jarring of his frame.1:01:89. Zero.“Homer. No more Simpsons names. First names of recurring characters in The Simpsons.”32:48. Zero.“Fantastic Mr. Fox. No More Animals.”19:87. Zero.“Captain Pugwash – no wait – no, not him – he’s bound to have a – aaaah – okay okay it’s got to be NO, no can’t have them either. Mmmmmmmary? Yeah - Mary. No More Women.”59:06. Zero.“Ooh just eked it in there you did - on a roll now, aye.”“Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. No more Long Winded Names.”“An interesting choice. Name Another?”His mind swirls. The seconds tick by. When suddenly –He blurts, “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!”“Ooh, yep. I would’ve given you that. Too bad though, not quite quick enough.” He rips the zipper. Alex yelps and then groans, gutturally, as Greg runs avaricious fingers along the reddened hyper-sensitive pinch points.“HAL,” he mumbles into the mattress.“Pardon?”He lifts his lips and repeats, “HAL. 2001 A Space Odyssey’s HAL. No more – ah No More One Namers.”Greg turns the phone screen down flat. “Game over, mate.” He hides it away beneath the pillow.
“Is it!?”
“I reckon ole HAL and I share a certain category in common, don’t you Alex?”He sighs at his obvious oversight, “Makes his own rules, but - ”“But. What?” Greg grips the stopper and applies some outward pressure to the plug. “I’ve seen the film Alex, countless times. He says he’s conscious.”“I’d argue that HAL never actually achieved true sentience. He’s just a computer program. They do what we tell them to do, they don’t make actual decisions. Even an advanced AI can only ever do what it’s been told. HAL wasn’t evil, he was just trying to reconcile two very conflicting input priorities. It all comes down to human error in the end and also - ”“Alex … is this really how you’d like to spend your next minute?”He shakes his head.“No … I think it’s about time you stopped enjoying your little object then, yeah, so I can start to enjoy mine.” Greg pulls at the plug until the pressure builds and then allows it to slowly pop from his ass. He growls, admiring Alex’s awaiting gape and squeezes at his dick through his trousers. “Is this what I get for winning?”“If this is what losing feels like you can consider me less competitive - starting now.”