Bed & Breakfast

Title:Bed and Breakfast
Pairing: Alex DeLarge / Norman Bates (OMG Kubrick/Hitchcock)
Rating: NC-17?
Warnings: Slash (duh), questionable consent, (ultra)violence, the usual inanity that comes with x-overs. Muhahaha. Also-- I like nadsat, but decided to tone it down. Otherwise poor Norman would have no idea what Alex's talking about.
Disclaimer: Book! and Movie!Alex. Only Movie!Norman (haven't read the book). The idea came to me in a conversation with Pseudy.

Alex drove his Durango, on the wrong side of the road as usual, reveling in how the roar produced by overzealous gas pedaling vibrated through his guts, flooding him with a perverse arousal. If there was one thing beyond his sexual reach, it was his car, and he had a suspicion that if he ever tried to take it up the tailpipe, it would prove better than a lot of the pathetic girls he had been willy-nillying with for the past several nights. It was the closest thing to old Ludwig Van blasting through his state of the art sound system, penetrating his very innards in a marriage of bodily and spiritual orgasm.

So concentrated was he on the self-pleasuring achieved by the machismo of his right foot, that he failed to notice that the other cars were suddenly traveling on the wrong side as well, without enraged honking and flailing of fists out of rolled down windows. It was dark and rainy now, and though Alex had a wicked desire to pretzel this beautifully sensual auto around a stiff electric pole, something told him he would not enjoy going about in the night under the rain, like some sorry old chap who didn’t know the meaning and uses of ultra-violence.

A sign loomed ahead, announcing the location of a certain motel, and Alex’s mouth curled into an asymmetrical smirk when thoughts of how he would trash the place and rape its tenants sprung up in his mind. The parking lot was empty, to his dismay, but he nevertheless parked so as to obstruct as much passage as possible. He swung out of the stolen vehicle, twirling his cane—his beloved baton which he wielded like a scepter over his droogs. His droogs. Stupid dolts that they were, they were now detained by the police for the petty crime of burglary and rape of some old woman. No matter, Alex smirked. He would never get caught. His bowler hat filling up with water in the drenching downpour, he kicked the flimsy door of the motel open. There was no one at the reception desk. Alex jumped onto the desk, his rump landing squarely on the bell. He repeated the action many times with the glee of a child, finding immense amusement in the fact that he could hear someone hurrying down a staircase somewhere to answer his ass’s call.

A tall, lanky man finally walked in. His shirt was buttoned to the neck, Alex noted gleefully. Such people’s property was ever so much more fun to vandalize.

“Hi hi hi there,” Alex grinned pleasantly.

“Hi,” the man smiled sheepishly, walking back around the table. “You want to stay for the night?” Alex swung his leg up to the desk, his muddy boot propping itself on the desk’s edge. The man’s eyes inadvertently traveled down to the youth’s codpiece.

“We… we don’t get many people around here nowadays,” the man continued, unable to look away from Alex’s crotch.

“Sorry to hear that, my friend, truly I am.” Alex clicked his tongue, shuffling around for money in the back pocket of his pants, which were now stretched tight around his ass in this position.

The man stirred as if out of reverie, and looked up into Alex’s face, only now noticing that one of the eyes was adorned with fake eyelashes, long enough to tremble seductively whenever the eyelid moved. “Uh… Norman Bates, by the way. Pleased to meet you… Mr. …?”

“DeLarge. But Alex to all his best droogies,” the youth said, catching up Norman’s extended handed, hooking thumbs instead of shaking. Norman gasped, averting his gaze toward the dirty boot still planted on the edge.

“So you’re Master Bates, illustrious owner of this shambly mesto?” Alex asked, releasing his grip.

“Yes. Or rather,” Norman hurried to add, “I run it with my mother.”

“Still living with Mum? At your age?” Alex inspected the man before him incredulously.

“Yes, well… she needs… supervision, sometimes.”

“What, is she a loon?” Alex’s lowered his foot down, planting both feet apart, leaning on the desk with such effrontery, that Norman was glad there was furniture between them to act as a buffer.

“Uh… you… you can… put it that way. I’ve wanted to leave this place, to tell you the… uh… truth. But she’s insistent, you know.”

“Sounds as much a bint as me own Mum.” Alex rolled his eyes. “’Cept mine’s right in the head.” Norman felt anger swell at these callous insults, but he could not bring himself to say anything. He was too mesmerized by the youth’s eye—angry malice and glee dancing in it hypnotically. It was quite a shock when he felt the tip of the cane jab him in the breastbone quite harshly.

“Whatcha staring at, eh friend? You gonna give me a room or what?”

“Yes… yes of course. Just sign yourself in…”

***

Alex walked into the room, shaking his head. The idiocy ran in the family apparently. The man had not even asked for a fee. This was positively the most boring enterprise he had ever undertaken. There was hardly anything to trash. He kicked over a small table, but the act brought him no satisfaction. He was actually immensely tired, now that he thought about it. It was time to turn in for the night, he supposed, having been forced to drag his sorry self to school the past few days after night-long excursions with his friends who had all but stopped attending. God, how he hated his parents, and the appearances he had to keep up for them until they would stop feeling legal responsibility for their little Alex. He took off his clothing article by article, wrinkling his nose at the smell the rain had lent his already rather sweaty clothing. He peeked into the bathroom, and noted with a certain satisfaction how clean it was. It was going to be a wash and off to bed, then.

Norman stared through the small hole in the wall as the youth donned off his clothing piece by piece. Alex soon stood in nothing but his hat, reveling in the virility of his reflection in the mirror. Norman panted heavily, staring at the young man’s crotch. His own mother would murder him if she ever found him indulging in such self-examination. He watched the youth peel off the false eyelashes and walk into the shower.

Alex turned the water on full blast, hot as possible, almost scalding himself. He had partaken in some pleasurable sport just earlier that evening, but it was as fine an opportunity as any to have a little fun. His hand clutched his member, moving back and forth, feeling himself engorging and growing even hotter than the scorching drizzles of water on his body. His mid-section pulsated with the need for release, and Alex smiled, torturing himself by letting go and standing, unfinished. It was good to be young enough to have so much joy, and pernicious enough to have the means to procure it. He remembered the Durango, stroking its rounded sides, feeling it come to life as he probed its keyhole with a thick wire. His hand returned to its activity, and he was coming ever closer to his climax when he heard the rings of the shower curtain clink, all pulled to one side. A shallow, feeble knife cut lacerated his arm.

“You filthy, rotten soomka!” Alex shouted, catching the wrist of the woman, and wrenching her arm painfully. He looked into the face, realizing it was the man he had been talking to. Alex’s lips opened into a snarl, revealing characteristically crooked British teeth.

“We’re little perverts are we?” Alex tossed off the wig.

“No! No you’re not allowed!” Norman screamed in falsetto, trying to rush back into the corner of the room and retrieve the hair. Alex’s hand on his arm was like a vise, however. Norman whimpered as Alex wrenched the knife out of his hand and dragged him into the bathtub, his shins banging on the edge painfully. Norman was pushed to his knees, facing away from Alex.

“We’re little perverts who like to play at girlies?” Alex continued, throwing up the hem of the red polka dot dress over the man’s head, pulling it back, so Norman’s face was buried in the fabric, straining his neck back, effectively blinding and gagging him. He had difficulty breathing through the thick cloth, and tried to reach back for Alex, to no avail. Alex looked at long white underwear in surprise.

“We went all the way, didn’t we. Lady’s drawers and all.” Far from diminishing his arousal, the scuffle only heightened it, and Alex grinned at what he was about to do. It had never occurred to him to rape his male victims, but in this case, the dress and current position was too tempting. He could not take the drawers off with Norman’s body so bent, and opted to open a slit with the knife. Norman wept as he felt the cold blade inadvertently invade his cleft.

Still holding his victim under tight control, Alex knelt down, his cock bobbing in anticipation. He burrowed into the cleft, seeking out the man’s virginal hole. There was a ragged scream as he tore into the tight heat. Alex was laughing, his eyes rolling up with pleasure as he invaded the passage further and further. The tightness was unequaled. Pumping his hips into the trembling body, Alex was soon over the edge, churning out more cum than he ever thought possible. He pulled out, raising the man back to his feet before the pleasure would render him weak and more vulnerable. Norman was in tears but highly aroused. He had never expected anything of the sort. His existence had been for the most part monotonous, and he did not know how to react to such an experience. Alex held his body, which was still trembling as if it would collapse into a heap without the tight embrace. Body to body, Alex felt an overwhelmingly warm feeling wash over him, and nipped at the side of the man’s neck. He felt his companion’s arousal grow into his stomach. Cum trickled down Norman’s thighs thick and sticky-- passing between their feet before swirling away into the drain.

***

“I never really liked my mother, you know,” Norman explained as he poured batter onto the skillet. “I thought I did, but she was just a… bitch, most of the time.” It felt so liberating to finally say the word.

“It’s okay, droogie. Don’t let her get to you.” Norman looked over lovingly at Alex, who boots were crossed on the table. It was the first time he had breakfast with company in decades. “You would look real horrorshow, I’d wager, in a more flattering dress.”

Norman smiled, blushing. It was nice to know he was prettier than his mother. Alex had said she was positively hideous when he finally introduced the two, and both had decided it was time for her to go in the dumpster. He brought the plate of pancakes over to the table, untying his polka dot frock and folding it neatly into the drawer.

“What, no jammy-wam?” Alex raised an eyebrow, but began eating them plain anyway. Norman sat down cautiously, and nibbled away at his own serving.

“Alex?”

The youth looked up, mouth full of pancakes, making an unintelligible noise.

“Will you be leaving soon?” Norman asked, looking at the floor, his hands fidgeting. He looked back in time to witness a lump travel down Alex’s corded neck as he hurried to swallow.

“I don’t have the slightest clue. I do as I please.”

“Will you please… take me again, then?” Norman’s eyes were so full of hope, Alex could not refuse. Norman walked into the next room to change, taking along a stick of margarine in hopes of avoiding some of the pain. Alex sipped at his hot chocolate, flexing his fingers around his cane, before getting up and following quietly, sneaking up behind his object of affection.

“Ow!” Norman yelped. “Not so hard with the cane, please!”