Title: THE FOOT
Date: October 7, 1999
Summary: A little foot and hand play.
Pairing: Sk/K (Who else, eh!)
Archive: Ratlover, CJK. Others: please ask.
DISCLAIMER: These are the property of CC, Fox and
1013, but they belong to all of us who love them.
DEDICATION: For Jonah in the whale, who gave me the
germ of this idea. And then added the socks. White
Alex threw himself on the couch, made himself
comfortable, long legs taking up most of the seating
area. He grabbed the remote, surfed until he found
what he was looking for: the soccer game between Italy
and Germany. Settled in to enjoy.
Walter looked in on his way to the kitchen. "Want
"A beer would be nice." Alex kept his eyes on the
screen. Walter watched a bit. Since Alex had moved
in, he'd learned to follow the game: not that he
enjoyed it anywhere as near as he did football, but he
could appreciate some of the finer points.
In the kitchen, he pulled two beers from the fridge: a
pilsner for himself, a lager for Alex, opened them,
strolled back into the living room. He handed Alex
his, got an absent-minded "Thanks" and stayed to watch
some of the action. He pushed Alex's feet to clear
seating space, smiling when one of the Italian players
threw himself to the ground in a dramatic display of
pain in order to gain a bit of time for his team.
When he'd first started watching soccer with Alex,
Walter kept on expecting to see a stretcher come out
onto the field to carry off the writhing player who
obviously had, at least, a broken leg. It had
surprised him that, after the time allotted for injury,
the player would dramatically rise to his feet, stumble
about for a couple of steps then take off after a ball
like nothing had happened.
Now he just enjoyed those moments for the Oscar-winning
performances they were. To him, football was serious:
soccer was play. He enjoyed the comedy of it.
Alex had pulled up his feet when he'd sat down. Now
they were resting against his thigh, pushing along with
the action on the screen. Walter endured this for a
bit, then grabbed the most offending foot -- the outer
one -- by the ankle and placed it on top of his thigh.
He held it there. Alex turned from looking at the tv
to him. Grinned his apology and went back to his beer
and the game.
Walter took a couple of swallows of his beer, smiled
down at the foot still participating in the game.
Alex was wearing thick white terry socks. He never
wore shoes indoors and hated even slightly greyed
socks. He would wear t-shirts till you could see
through them, jeans until they were white, shirts till
the cuffs and collars were frayed, but shorts and socks
were forever being replaced with new ones. These were
brand new: they still had that never-washed sheen to
Walter looked at Alex, oblivious to all but the game.
He looked back down at the foot on his lap. He bit his
lower lip and smiled at the foot.
He moved his grip on the ankle a little bit higher so
he could roll the sock off. Slowly. So as not to
It was a little like a strip-tease. The narrow lower
leg. The ankle with the protruding bones. The bony
heel. The high arch. The long, narrow toes.
Walter checked: Alex was still with the game.
With the index finger of his free hand, Walter drew a
line from above the ankle down over the top of the foot
to the middle toe.
The foot gave a little shake.
The finger went back to the ankle, skimmed over the
skin, linking the two ankle bones with figure eights.
The ankle wriggled.
The hand holding the leg moved down to the ankle, its
thumb caressing the bone under it. Gently. Back and
Alex looked at Walter. Walter was watching the game.
A loud cheer called Alex back.
The finger began stroking the heel, gradually moving
out to sketch the arch.
The foot twisted a bit, trying to pull away.
The finger slipped back and forth down the arch to the
The foot tugged.
The hand held firm.
Alex's other foot pushed against Walter's hip. When
the hand did not release the naked foot, it shoved
harder. Walter shifted his body a bit, waited for the
foot to protest again, caught it between the seat and
his body, settled so that it was now immobile.
Walter returned Alex's glare with an innocent look.
Pointedly he turned his gaze to the tv. The captured
foot wiggled, or tried to. Walter shifted his weight
just enough to convince it that wasn't a smart move.
The foot on his lap wriggled, but the hand holding it
merely tightened its hold and after a moment or two,
the foot gave up.
The finger began making tiny circular movements in the
dip where the ankle became the foot. Then it moved onto
the top of the foot, following the line of bone to each
toe, and back again to the dip.
The foot twitched.
The finger shaped the outline of the foot. Dragged
along the callused outer rim, calluses that matched
those on the outer edge of Alex's hand. It paid
particular attention to each toe, tracing the shape
with just the barest touch. Carefully drew the
There was screaming from the tv: some spectacular foul
that got even Walter's attention. The foot tried to
take advantage of that. Alex yanked. The foot slipped
out of Walter's grip, but not enough.
The hand clamped down, yanked back hard in its
direction and Alex slipped to the small of his back.
This time the finger was ruthless. With the tip of its
nail, it stroked the underside of the foot, where it
was most ticklish.
The leg tried hard to pull it away from the finger's
relentless torture. To no avail. The hand just
gripped tighter, pulled the leg straight. And the one
tormenting finger became five.
Alex cursed, shoved his body down the couch until his
knee threatened Walter's jaw.
Walter pulled his chin back just in time. Then he let
his upper body fall onto the legs, separating them.
One was imprisoned between his body and the back if the
couch; the other, knee bent, at an angle hanging over
the edge of the seat.
The foot was, for all of Alex's attempts, still firmly
clasped in the hand. Shoulder pushing back on Alex's
groin, Walter brought the foot to his chest, and then
with just a bit more effort to his mouth. He bit on
the heel, harder the more Alex pushed against his
Alex finally got the message and lay still. Waiting.
A tongue gently caressed the teeth marks on the skin,
moved to the part of the arch it could reach.
Walter could feel another reaction beneath his shoulder
blade. The pads of his fingers gently caressed the
undersole in short, light strokes from heel to toes.
The toes wiggled.
The foot twitched.
The cock hardened.