Chapter 6: Possession
The silence in the room was a physical thing, thick and charged like the air before a lightning strike. Frank’s question hung between them, not a request but a challenge. Why would I go?
Alan could only stare at Frank’s reflection in the dark monitor, his own transformed face a mask of terror. The grinding in his bones had subsided to a deep, resonant hum, a new, permanent engine thrumming inside him. He felt immense, a statue of living flesh and power, yet he had never felt more like a prisoner.
Frank moved first. He didn’t approach cautiously; he strode forward with the same confident swagger he used on the rugby pitch, but his eyes were different. The initial fear was gone, burned away by a scorching, predatory curiosity. He came to a stop directly behind Alan, so close that Alan could feel the heat of his body through his clothes.
“Look at you,” Frank murmured, his voice low and wondering. He didn’t wait for an invitation. His hands came up and pressed flat against Alan’s back, palms sliding over the dense, new muscle that sculpted his shoulders and lats. The touch was possessive, exploratory. “Jesus Christ. It’s like fucking granite.”
Alan flinched, the contact both a relief and a violation. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be seen. To be touched. But not like this. Not as this… thing.
Frank’s hands roamed lower, tracing the deep groove of Alan’s spine, then sliding around his waist to splay across his abdomen. His fingers dug into the hard, defined ridges of Alan’s stomach. “You feel that?” Frank breathed into his ear, his lips brushing the skin. “That’s not human. What did you do to yourself?”
“I told you,” Alan choked out, his new, deeper voice trembling. “The serum. The pheromones… it’s a cascade effect. The physical changes are a side effect I didn’t… I didn’t fully anticipate.”
“A side effect,” Frank repeated, a laugh rumbling in his chest. He pressed his body flush against Alan’s back, his own arousal, hard and insistent, nudging against Alan’s buttocks through their clothes. “Best fucking side effect I’ve ever seen.”
“Best fucking side effect I’ve ever seen.”
Frank’s hands slid down, gripping the dense curve of Alan’s ass through his jeans. The possessiveness in that touch, the sheer raw approval, finally broke the dam of Alan’s terror. A strange, warm confidence flooded the space where his panic had been. This powerful body was his. He had built it.
He turned around, the movement surprisingly fluid in his new frame, forcing Frank to take a half-step back. Alan looked down at his own chest, at the heavy pectorals and the thick, dark trail of hair leading down, and a slow smile touched his lips. “It is pretty incredible, isn’t it?” he said, his voice a low, steady rumble.
Frank’s eyes widened, then darkened with pure hunger. “Incredible?” he breathed, his gaze devouring Alan from head to toe. “You’re a fucking goddamn masterpiece, Turing.” He reached out and ran a thumb over Alan’s nipple, making the muscle beneath jump. “I want to see all of it. Now.”
A thrill, sharp and electric, shot through Alan. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and shoved them down his thick thighs, kicking them off along with his boxers. He stood naked before Frank, not with awkwardness, but with a primal display, his cock, thick and fully erect, standing proud against the solid wall of his stomach.
“Fuck me,” Frank whispered, his own arousal blatant. He stripped off his shirt, then his jeans, his movements hurried, clumsy with need. His body was a testament to disciplined training, but it was different from Alan’s—leaner, defined, not this raw, genetic power. “Look at you.”
Alan reached out, his own large, capable hand splaying across Frank’s chest, feeling the rapid, strong beat of his heart. “You’re not so bad yourself, Thompson,” Alan said, the tease feeling natural, earned.
Frank grabbed his wrist, his grip firm. “I could get used to this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “To you. Now stop talking and get on the bed.”
The command sent a jolt of pure heat to Alan’s groin. He moved to the narrow bed, the springs groaning in protest under his weight as he lay back. He watched Frank crawl over him, and the sight of that submission in Frank’s eyes made his cock twitch, leaking onto his stomach.
Frank lowered himself, his mouth finding Alan’s in a searing, open-mouthed kiss. Then he moved down, his lips and tongue tracing a hot, wet path over the rigid landscape of Alan’s chest and abdomen. He took one of Alan’s nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting until Alan groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets.
“You taste like power,” Frank muttered against his skin, his breath hot. He continued his descent, his stubble scraping a fiery trail down Alan’s stomach. He didn’t hesitate. He took the head of Alan’s cock into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip, lapping up the precum.
Alan’s head fell back, a guttural “Fuck!” tearing from his throat. The feeling was overwhelming, the wet, hot suction, the sight of Frank, the rugby star, on his knees, his mouth stretched around his shaft. Frank deep-throated him with a practiced, desperate hunger, his throat working, his hands pinning Alan’s hips to the bed.
“I’m gonna come,” Alan warned, his voice strangled, his body tensing like a drawn bowstring.
Frank pulled off with a wet pop, his lips swollen and slick. “Not yet,” he panted, his eyes wild. He moved up Alan’s body, aligning their cocks. He spat into his hand, a crude, efficient gesture, and wrapped his fist around both of them, their lengths sliding together in a slick, tight channel.
He started to fuck his fist, the rhythm brutal and perfect. The friction was insane, the head of his cock rubbing against Alan’s with every thrust. “You see this?” Frank grunted, his hips pistoning. “This is us. This is what you made.”
Alan could only watch, mesmerized, as their bodies moved together, a tangled, sweating, primal machine. He reached up, grabbing Frank’s broad shoulders, feeling the muscles cord and bunch with his effort. He was no longer passive; he met Frank’s thrusts, driving up into that delicious, filthy friction.
“Come for me, Alan,” Frank demanded, his voice cracking. “I want to see it. Cover yourself.”
The command, the raw filth of it, was the final trigger. Alan’s orgasm exploded from him, a raw, shouting release that painted thick, white stripes across his own heaving chest and stomach. The convulsions of Alan’s body pushed Frank over the edge moments later, his own release adding to the mess, his groan muffled against Alan’s neck.
They collapsed together, spent and sticky, the small bed shuddering beneath their weight. Frank’s breath was hot and ragged against Alan’s shoulder. After a long moment, he pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at the spectacular mess they’d made of Alan’s torso.
A slow, genuine smile spread across Frank’s face. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky. “I could definitely enjoy spending time with you.”
Frank’s grin widened, a flash of white in the dim room. “No one’s ever taken me apart like that before.” He traced a finger through the cooling spend on Alan’s stomach, his touch proprietary. “You’re a real fucking surprise.”
Alan watched him, the post-coital haze slowly receding. A new, unfamiliar sensation was coiling in his gut, something warmer and more solid than the frantic lust that had preceded it. He felt… solid. “You’re not what I expected either,” Alan said, his voice a low rumble that still felt foreign. “I thought you’d run.”
“Run?” Frank laughed, a short, sharp sound. “From this?” His hand slid up to squeeze Alan’s bicep, the muscle bulging under his grip. “I’m not an idiot. I know a good thing when it’s staring me in the face.” He leaned in, his breath ghosting over Alan’s lips. “Or when it’s fucking my brains out.”
The crude words should have shocked him, the old Alan would have blushed. This Alan just felt a thrill of power. He met Frank’s gaze, his own eyes steady. “You liked it.”
“I fucking loved it,” Frank corrected, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That thing you did with your hips. Christ.” He shifted, rolling onto his back beside Alan, their shoulders pressing together on the narrow mattress. The scent of their sex was thick in the air, mingling with the chemical tang from the desk. “So this serum. You just… cooked it up in here?”
Alan stared at the water-stained ceiling, the reality of his creation settling heavily upon him. “It was for a botany thesis. A cross-species pheromone amplifier. I thought it might make me more… noticeable.” He gave a dry, humorless laugh. “I’d say it worked.”
Frank propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Alan with an intensity that was entirely new. “Noticeable? Turing, you’re a fucking force of nature.” He gestured at Alan’s body. “This is next-level. You’re not just noticeable, you’re… undeniable.”
Undeniable. The word resonated deep within Alan’s new bones. It felt truer than visible, truer than wanted. It was a fact. “The physical augmentation was an unintended cascade. The compound seems to be rewriting my base genetics, optimizing for…” He trailed off, the clinical explanation feeling absurd in the aftermath of what they’d just done.
“For being a total fucking beast,” Frank finished for him, a wicked gleam in his eye. “And it makes you smell… I don’t know. Like a fucking storm about to break. It gets in my head.” He lay back down, his voice softening. “In a good way.”
They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound their breathing and the faint, persistent bubble from the test tube. Alan felt the last vestiges of his old self, the anxious, bookish boy, recede like a tide. In its place was a calm, formidable certainty. He wasn’t trying to match Frank anymore; he was becoming his equal, his counterpart. A predator recognizing another.
“We should do this again,” Frank said, his tone casual, but his meaning absolute. “Tomorrow. After practice.”
Alan turned his head on the pillow, meeting Frank’s gaze. The hunger there was no longer a surprise; it was an expectation, a demand he now felt equipped to meet. A slow, confident smile spread across his own face, feeling less like a reaction and more like a declaration.
“Yeah,” Alan said, his voice devoid of its old hesitation. “We should.”