One Billion Credits
Part 3 – Insatiable

How he got to the Pleasure Facility, Ivan will never know; he had walked the rest of the way there in a daze and saw no more of the sights. When he got to the entrance of Sex Babestation, he stood staring at it for a moment.

The front side of the building was an enormous billboard playing the same pulsating images of the season's line-up broadcasted on every telescreen back home. Alfred Jones featured very prominently here as well; the catwalk and price tag loop, the pole dancing loop, the close-up of his face during his debut riding hard on a stranger; his blue eyes hooded, his mouth stained with cum, falling slack as he silently moaned…

Ah, we've been expecting you, sir.

It was the first time Ivan had ever been addressed 'sir', and he did not know what to make of it. His booking was checked, his travel permit renewed for the return journey (another sting of the laser stamp to his wrist), then he was herded into a lift and up to a room, the very same room Alfred had addressed him from in his private show for him.

Alfred will be arriving shortly, the attendant politely assured him. Ivan smiled feebly as the attendant gave a small bow, backed out of the room, and shut the doors.

The room was even more sumptuous to behold in person, but Ivan hardly saw it. Locating the bathroom door, he half-strode half-ran to it, waved over the sensor to undo the latch, and lunged over to the wash basin. He was convinced he was going to be sick and retched a little, but nothing came up. It was just as well. But he did look awful, his face lined and grey as if he had aged considerably since stepping out of the Tube station.

Slowly, he turned on the tap, scooped the water with his hands, and splashed it over his face, sighing as he washed the dirt of the city from himself. The water felt cool against his heated skin. When he was finished, and was drying his face on a hand towel hung to his side, he sensed that he was not alone and wheeled sharply around.

"Hello, Ivan Braginski," Alfred greeted him from the doorway, the same way he had over the live feed, except this time he was saying it in person and his voice sounded even sweeter.

Alfred, he wanted to say, but could not. All that came out was a small squeak.

Unperturbed, Alfred took his weight off the door frame and stepped into the bathroom with a click of his heels. Within moments he was up against Ivan, pressing his body to his, running smooth gloved hands up the side of Ivan's face, still damp from the wash. Their lips hovering a breath's width apart, it was a small step for Alfred to swallow the distance between them and connect to Ivan in a heated, open-mouthed kiss; Ivan's first kiss.

Ivan froze. Alfred was… practiced. Yes, that was it. He was skilled, his lips soft and pliant even as he demanded, and in his surprise and inexperience, Ivan simply stood agape. When Alfred finally pulled from him with a deliberate smacking sound – a string of saliva connecting them still, blue eyes hooded behind plastic lightly-tinted shades – Ivan simply stared.

He had Alfred right here in the flesh and in his arms. His hands skirted up Alfred's hip bones to his naked waist, one hand smoothing up his back to the laces of his leather corset as the other reached down to give his rear a squeeze. Alfred gave a delicious little gasp at that. Ivan pressed them tighter together, his passion rising and spilling over as he finally verbalised, "Alfred…"

The telescreen never told how soft and smooth his skin was to the touch, how toned his muscles were flexing underneath. It never told of the scent or taste of him, velvety and intoxicatingly sweet – nor the precise timbre of his voice as he encouraged Ivan's roaming advances with moans and purrs and soft, feathery sighs. He was kissing Alfred wherever his lips met him – mouth, chin, cheeks, eyelids; a shower of loving tributes upon his face – and his hands touched him all over in places he could not reach to kiss.

Alfred let out a sudden gasp. Ivan took the opportunity to press to him an open-mouthed kiss of his own, devouring Alfred with hungry, sloppy, inexperienced lips. Alfred shuddered and gasped some more, both hands clutching at Ivan's, the one slid down his hot pants and massaging his arousal. The garment slipped down to his thighs as Ivan kneaded him to full hardness, thumbing his beading precum to spread and lubricate him, casually tugging him off. But this was not what Alfred wanted.

"No, fuck me!" Alfred hissed. The composed seducer from moments before had quietly melted to the harried, desperate being that now stood before Ivan, eyes wild with a new urgency. He grabbed Ivan's hand from himself and pulled, dragged him stumbling out of the bathroom and towards the bed, Ivan following as quickly as he could.

Alfred shimmied out of his pants, a mere ornament with little practical function, with a practiced if trembling flaunt. He was painfully erect, his member flushed, but he paid his arousal little mind and simply reached round to prepare himself. Ivan cottoned on quickly, and turned Alfred around and bent him over the bed, adding his own fingers to Alfred's entrance.

"Oh!" Alfred gasped.

Ivan was a little taken aback at how hot and tight Alfred felt around his fingers, how wet… how prepared he was all slick with lubrication down there. The thought of fucking him, of replacing his fingers with his cock and fucking him, sent shivers of anticipation thrilling up his spine. As he spread and scissored his fingers inside of him, he felt Alfred grow taut with tension, his throat reverberating with a high, keening sound as he hummed, "Mmmhh…!"

Alfred pushed hard into Ivan's fingers, his ass puckering, squelching around his long, exploring digits, drawing them in and deep. At Alfred's breathy request, Ivan added a third finger and rotated them in him, stretching and feeling around the soft, heated walls of his flesh. He felt Alfred stiffen as he brushed against something in him, and pressed into him again, hard; Alfred let out a little oh of surprise. Pleased at the sound it elicited, Ivan twisted his fingers and hammered repeatedly against that pleasure spot, pushing Alfred to writhe and mewl beneath him in helpless pleasure.

"Enough, please!" Alfred cried suddenly, loud enough to tear his lungs out.

He let out a weak sob as Ivan immediately stopped and pulled out his fingers. Ivan was worried that he might have hurt Alfred and began to apologise, but Alfred was twisting round, and reaching to pull Ivan down and over him, bringing their faces close together.

"P-put it in," Alfred whispered on a great shuddering breath. Ivan froze, feeling all the blood in him drain to his groin. Alfred stared up at Ivan, his eyes searching, frantic, close to tears. "Ivan, p-please," he whimpered. "Please p-put it in, Ivan, put it in inside m-m–"

Ivan cut him off with a swift hard kiss, swallowing his plea. Then he pulled back, fumbled with the fastening of his trousers, and brought out his own erection, stroking it, slicking it with the lubricant from Alfred's ass. Alfred flopped back down, his breathing quickening with anticipation.

Carefully positioning himself, Ivan pushed with little resistance into Alfred in one squelching stroke. He paused, letting out a choke from the sensation around his cock; wet, heated, and impossibly, impossibly tight, he could cum right then and there, he thought. He pushed himself all the way in, his eyes crossing as he groaned, unable to believe that anything could feel so good…

Alfred cried out in pleasure – in relief – lips stretched to a tight, wobbly grin. "Yes!" he hissed, scrabbling at the sheets with his gloved fingers. He ground his hips against Ivan; oh but he was big, he felt so full, so tight in him, and wept, "Yes, oh god yes!"

Ivan began to move inside of him, slowly at first, just rocking his hips and thrusting his length inside of Alfred. He held himself up by his hands planted by the sides of Alfred, and he was bent low, low enough over Alfred to smell his shampoo, the sweet clean scent mixing with his beading sweat.

As Alfred bucked and gasped beneath him, panting hotly, Ivan gradually picked up pace and fell into a hard-thrusting rhythm, adding audibly lewd squelches and slaps of flesh on flesh to Alfred's wanton, lust-filled moans.

"Ahh!" Alfred trilled, rubbing his own aching arousal along the sheets beneath him, seeking purchase. "Ah, mmh… Yes, just like that! Yes, ah – ah – yes! Oh god, just like that!"

Relief flooded through every nerve and fibre of his being, soaking his mind in a soup of hazy pleasure, and it was a welcomed change from the heat of the all-consuming fire of his base smutty needs, the one he woke up to every evening, hot and flushed and begging for release. It could only be quenched by a client, they told him, they made him that way – and he was entirely without shame as he moaned and writhed, egging Ivan on with every roll of his hips and sighing demands for more.

Don't stop, he pleaded internally as Ivan pounded into him rough and hard, sending shoots of pleasure singing up and down the length of his body, to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Yes, just like that, it feels so good… oh, don't stop!

It was as he floated in the throes of gratification just like this that he was caught unawares. Ivan, breathing rough and ragged, brought his lips to the flushed shell of Alfred's ear, and whispered, "I'm going to save you."

Alfred blinked. There was a weight of sincerity behind Ivan's words, and it snapped him momentarily out of his selfish, debauched stupor. His heart began to race, thudding an incessant rhythm in his eardrums, and he stared blankly at the sheets before him, feeling Ivan's words reaching for something deep within him…

Ivan let out another juddering breath – his client was nearing his climax, Alfred could tell – and in a low roll of breath Ivan hoarsely whispered, "I'm going to save you, Alfred. I swear it."

Author's note

This part is a little short as it's purely smut, hohoho! It's based entirely off a page from Shieunni's recalibrated!AU doodles on Tumblr. And yeah. This is the 'climax' of the story. I hope it lived up to expectations ^^;

I just want to thank everyone who's left a review! Some reviews have been very interesting, and one was informative in particular - the Doctor Who episode I ripped off the concept for a patch drug was from season three in an episode called Gridlock (thank you AnimeApprentice!).

EDIT: I've gotten a review from Vyke95, which I was unable to reply to directly since it was written as a guest. Please check my Tumblr fic blog for the reply in full, link is in my profile page, but I will say this much here and now...

Everything that happens in this chapter – every kiss, every fingering, every goddamn fuck – is entirely my own work. This sex scene is freaking mine and I will claim it bold if I have to. I own it. It's mine. I imagined it in it's entirety and put words to it. It's mine, all my own work.

The comic page I've based the sex scene from is only three panels long, and it's a little part at the end with the dialogue about saving Alfred. The reason why I keep referring to Shieunni's doodles on Tumblr, and keep taking bits from them, is because they were the first inspiration for my fic and I am paying homage to her work. She has read this story and is fine with me taking inspirations from her.

I'll just leave it here for now. Thank you for reading.