What? They've acted in OTHER things?!

[hhanon]

So, you may be aware that some cast members of HH have acted in other things.  Give their profession, this is understandable.

This post is for those who would like to prompt/fic about the other things the guys/girls have been in, without mixing it up with HH-related/non-crossover fic on the other posts.


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• One prompt per comment. 
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Format of Prompts

• Put [RPF] before RPF prompts. 
• For crossover prompts: "[Crossover], HH Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" 
• Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other."
• Put [GEN] before GEN prompts.
• Use appropriate warnings.
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Archiving Prompts and Fills

• To make the archiving job easier, please drop a link to your fill/unprompted fic here at the fills post.
• Nothing here you fancy filling? Take a look at the unfilled prompts archived here or at Round 1.

Comments

[Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

[(Anonymous)]

Chris loves it when Tim ties him up and has his way with him, and he can't do anything except cry out and pull against his bonds.

Re: [Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

[twizzle-eeyore.livejournal.com]

SECONDED!

[RPF] Lawry/John Finnemore

[(Anonymous)]

Lawry uses his mouth to say thank you to John for letting him be a part of the sketch show.

Re: [RPF] Lawry/John Finnemore

[(Anonymous)]

seconded :D

[Horne & Corden] Mat!Nathan/Other

[(Anonymous)]

Because Nathan is soiled (a prostitute), doesn't have a penny to his name and because there is this one guy, he is a regular, and he used to... yeah what did he like to do with poor Nathan?
I just want Nathan selling himself really... oh god, I am going to away to hide in a corner for wanting that.


(also, yay for this, I love that we don't need to mix HH and... well HH-Cast-doing-other-things. :D)

Re: [Horne & Corden] Mat!Nathan/Other

[(Anonymous)]

I might've started writing something like this years ago. So um yeah I'll see what I can do.

[RPF] Mat Baynton/Darren Boyd, cuddling

[(Anonymous)]

Inspired by this: twitter.com/#!/DarrenJBoyd/status/127478544598183936

Darren described Mat as a "more gentle, cuddlier version" of Chris.

So, obviously, Mat has cuddled Darren. A lot.

[Crossover] [Spy/Black Books] Chris/Bernard Black

[(Anonymous)]

They bond over their mutual misanthropy, then get drunk and bitch about idiotic customers (and Manny and Marcus), glaring at everyone who dares to come within thirty feet of them. And nothing ever gets sold.

Or something. :'D I just think they'd get on really well! (Probably too well for the liking of those around them...)

Re: [Crossover] [Spy/Black Books] Chris/Bernard Black

[(Anonymous)]

Do want. I would offer to try and write it but I'd be afraid I'd never get their voices right.

UNPROMPTED: One Saturday Afternoon, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/6] [Spy]

[(Anonymous)]

“Right,” Chris says, one Saturday afternoon while Marcus is out at his mum’s and he has nothing better to do than sit around with his female best (only) friend and watch the football, and slings one long leg over his lap.

…It’s a measure of how used he’s become to her bonkers presence that he only blinks when she twists around to turn the TV off and turns back with a determined smirk upon her face.

“Chris…?” And even then his brain is slow to catch up, what with her sitting in his lap with her absurdly short skirt rising up to expose more and more of her rather unsettling thighs, “what are you doing?”

She only beams at him, “what does it look like I’m doing?”

He can only guess, in a slightly terrified manner, while trying to figure out where the heck to put his hands (not on her warm, smooth flesh would be a good start) “…Overthrowing the capitalist dogs that have kept us under their foot for so very long?”

Chris, predictably, considers this for a moment…

“It’d be interesting if you could overthrow them like this, I’ll have to look into it,” and then grins, and reaches for the bottom of her oversized shirt (huge shirts with Sci Fi logos on top, mini-skirts made for indecent exposure down bottom – that’s always been Chris), “but right now I have far funner things in mind…”

He, in turn, considers this-

Okay, alright, he’s lying. And grabbing Chris’ wrists instead, and very firmly stopping her from lifting that shirt another inch (to display that pale, skinny, remarkably attractive- that did not just come out of his brain), “why?”

She pouts - she has the most amazing pout, he has actually seen it stop pigeons dead in their tracks (in front of cars, Chris has never used her powers for good), “because fun is fun.”

He considers-

He may be starting to develop a problem with lying, he admits it – he refuses to seek help, “nope.”

“Ah,” she gnaws on her lip, her remarkably lovely- okay, he did also not think that. She has nice lips, granted, fine lips as far as lips go – but he does not want to slide his tongue between them and- “…You have been leading me on all these years and it’s time for you to step up and be a man or stop jerking around my fragile heart?”

He-

…Okay, he might go see a counsellor in the morning, or tonight, or the moment that he runs screaming from the room and never looks back, “no.”

“Really? I thought that was rather good.”

“’Fraid not.”

“Ah,” she glances down at her still trapped hands, he politely releases them - just so she can reach out and tap them against his shoulders “…Are you absolutely sure? Because I could go into a whole spiel about how we’ve been working together for seven years-“

“Five years.”

“-Seven years this October, and how I’m actually your only friend and how we’ve basically been dating ever since your wife left you and how you trust me enough to let me hold a kitchen knife to your throat,” she taps for another moment, sucks her bottom lip (he is not staring, he is not fascinated at all) still deeper into her mouth “…Can we try bladeplay, by the way?”

UNPROMPTED: One Saturday Afternoon, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/6] [Spy]

[(Anonymous)]

“No,” he snaps, and very firmly ignores her disappointed noise (and very firmly does not think about her moaning beneath him- Because he actually doesn’t envision her moaning beneath him, because Chris is more the type to scream and swear and probably carry on a bloody conversation even if completely naked and being pleasured by the ten most attractive people on the planet) “…And have you really been noticing that?”

“…No.”

“Right.”

“But now that I think about it I am making remarkably good points,” she continues ever so brightly, shifting in his lap (ah, that’s a bit uncomfortable now that he notices it) “…Mainly I’m just bored, though.”

“Oh.”

“And you’re the nearest thing to a male around.”

“Thank you.”

“…And you’re also very attractive?”

He…

Actually considers that for a second, because it has to be better than turfing her off his lap (still uncomfortable, thank you for remembering) and going to slam his head against the wall, “so… Your main reason for us to shag on my sofa in the middle of the day is that you’re bored and as a good friend I should entertain you?”

“Basically!”

“Ah.”

“But you did interrupt my train of thought,” she nods brightly, completely ignoring the fact that she does that herself more often than not (a lot more often than not), “and I did have other points.”

“…Go on?”

“You haven’t had a shag since your wife left you” …He kind of wishes that she wasn’t going on now, but short of kissing her to silence (he will not do that) he’s not quite sure how to fix it, “since about a year before that, actually, which is roughly two or more years of complete celibacy.”

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Which is downright unhealthy for a man in his late thirties looking to live a full and active life-“

“Alright, I get your point,” he grumbles, raises his head and opens his eyes with as much anger as he can muster (not that opening your eyes is a very angry movement, compared to snapping your head or raising your hand it’s practically pathetic) “…You are actually playing on my fear of loneliness and being a hopeless freak to get in a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”

“…Well.”

His voice is very flat, it must be very flat – possibly as flat as a desert that’d been pounded with a giant hammer many times (…Pounding is also a legitimate word as well as a sexual innuendo, he will not feel the slightest bit tempted), “you want more than a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”

She looks innocent, as innocent as only pure and utter evil can look, “we could see how things progressed?”

“What would Marcus think?”

“Please stop talking about Marcus when I’m perched on top of you with full intention of getting naked and having a passionate shag right here,” and, with that… Christ, he forgot to grab onto her hands again! She’s already reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her shirt and pulling up- “there!”

[Peep Show] Mark/Gerard, roleplay

[(Anonymous)]

They take turns pretending to be Dobby.

[Spy] Chris/Tim, wallsex

[(Anonymous)]

After he's finished panicking about Jarek, Chris finds he can't stop thinking about what it was like when he slammed Tim into that wall - and he can't wait to do it again.

FILL: A Growing Situation, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1A/2]

[(Anonymous)]

It’s not a compulsion, as such, just a thought – a thought that has his fingers clenching in the rough material of his duvet and his eyes fluttering shut to relive the moment a thousand times.

Tim against the wall, eyes wide and puzzled, fingers scrabbling against the rough stone.

Tim’s breath hot against his palm, briefly puzzled but then quickly relaxed as soon as he saw who exactly was holding him.

Tim hot and naked underneath him. Nails clawing at his shoulders, groans hot and uncontainable, thigh strong as they spin around and he ends up pressed against the wall with Tim’s teeth slick in his neck-

…Okay, so the last one isn’t true.

But that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. As his fingers clench again, in the rough material of the duvet before slipping inevitably underneath.

-

It does, however, become a bit of a obsession - and he’s willing to admit that only because truth telling is so very unfashionable in this fly-haunted carcass that they call society.

“And then my boss threw the gun, the actual gun, right at-“ Tim pauses, in the middle of his storytelling session in the back room, frowns at his probably glazed eyes and raises a slow hand to indulge in a bit of useless waving “…Chris? Chris? Are you alright or-?”

He blinks himself, with some speed, from the vision of Tim’s hands clenching in his hair and Tim’s cock sliding slickly into his mouth.

…Smiles, so innocently that even a casual acquaintance would be fooled for a few minutes, “just thinking about something funny I heard the other day. Go on with your pointless tale, then.”

It’s a blessing, really a blessing, that Tim is sweet enough to only briefly blink and then slowly carry on.

-

He starts idling about it at odd moments, dreaming about it even when he’s not free to ease the covers down around his hips and take his cock in hand with Tim’s eyes swimming before his face.

“Um… Mr. Frowny face?” A slightly worried looking old woman asks one morning, as he spaces out at the counter, the image of Tim sliding a slick finger within him enough to drive most coherent thoughts from his head.

“What are you looking at?” Marcus sniffs scornfully one day, as he’s briefly lost in musings of how Tim’s groans would sound and how Tim’s throat would move while he was making them.

“Chris!” Tim himself yells despairingly one movie night, as he takes a long moment to imagine the feeling of stone against naked flesh and naked Tim against that stone.

…Odd moments.

He can hardly mind, as he smilingly excuses himself and walks into the storage room or Tim’s bathroom or even his bedroom and brings himself off at achingly fast speed with a certain constantly despairing face hovering attractively before his, he will admit, slightly glazed eyes.

-

It would be odd, perhaps, to discover such lust for your best friend out of the blue – but then he’s always suspected that this was going to be the end result.

He usually likes girls, yes, but to put a label to something so usually insignificant would be quite incredibly stupid. He knew the moment that he first saw Tim, seven years ago and with slightly more optimistic eyes, that he would eventually end up wanting the man groaning beneath him… Or on besides him, or on top of him with his wrists pinned high above his head.

…He’s getting distracted again.

But, no, he’s always expected this to happen. And that’s why, on the one month anniversary of dreaming about Tim’s cock hard in his hand, he snaps open his eyes in the narrow prison cell and decides that he needs a plan.

There are bonuses to being a genius, after all…

[Double Science] Colin Jackson (no relation)/ Kenneth

[(Anonymous)]

Because we all know Kenneth has split from his wife and is clearly in love with Colin, what with all the films he chooses for them to watch together.

UNPROMPTED: Next Monday Morning, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/4] [Spy]

[(Anonymous)]

A sequel to this: http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=1818132#t1818132

--

Okay.

…So.

He slept with Chris at the weekend. Gave her a pretty passionate shagging (oh god, no wonder everybody hates him), in fact, that left dents on the sofa and led to Judith yelling at them for hours while his mind was rather stuck on the fact that Chris was not wearing a bra under her shirt and Chris’ nipples were free to roam the world and a thousand other weird things that rather took away from all attempts at concentration.

…But that’s alright.

For today is a fresh day, two days later in fact, and they can happily move beyond that stage. No matter that he was rather distracted on both Saturday night and Sunday night by the thought of Chris perching warmly in his lap, no matter that he still can’t stop thinking about rolling his mouth around her nipple repeatedly until she uses swear words so inventive that even a sailor would blush – it is over, it was casual, he can visit her at work with not a single inappropriate thought or problematic moment to trouble them-!

“Hi Tim!” Chris chirps the moment she sees him, and backs him against a wall a second later.

…Ah.

Well.

That lasted for long.

“Chris,” he says desperately. Drawing back from the kiss and encountering that familiar, friendly problem of having absolutely nowhere to put his flailing hands, “it’s 9:30 in the morning.”

“So?” She says brightly, beaming up at him and pushing her breasts rather firmly against his chest.

…Ah, that could also be a problem, “it’s a Monday.”

“So?”

“…Shouldn’t you be open?”

Hr only response is a slow, scornful eyebrow raise… Oh, and a pinch of his bum! How lovely that they appear to have reached that point, how wonderful that they appear to have charged into the wild lands of bottom grabbing without a single pause or rather sensible moment of hesitation!

“Chris,” he says desperately, moving her hands away and firmly trying to ignore the leg being slowly pressed between his, “I thought you said it was just a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon?”

“Well…” She screws up her face for only a moment, mainly because she can and somebody, somewhere, might end up screaming at the sheer terror of it, “I did say ‘well’.”

“…And how does that excuse anything?”

“It doesn’t excuse anything, it excuses everything,” another pause, another face – one drawn from her magical kingdom of faces that are used to scare poor children, pensioners, and nervous people around the world, “though everything actually includes anything when I think about it. So it also excuses anything!”

…Oh Chris.

UNPROMPTED: Next Monday Morning, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/4] [Spy]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh Chris! With her hand suddenly reaching between them to try and undo his belt and tug his boxers down and oh Lord his cock has never been out this early on a Monday morning before (he’s not sure if it’s ever been out on a Monday before, actually), “we’re in a public space!”

“S-O?”

“Spelling it out,” he says very firmly, tugging up all pertinent items of underwear before she can get her hands anywhere inappropriate, “will not make me shag you in a public place at 9:30-“

“9:35…”

“-On a Monday morning!” He finishes triumphantly despite her interruption. And then glances at the clock to find her absolutely right (god dammit, as usual).

…She’s also pouting again.

“Stop that!”

Pouting hard.

“Stop that!”

Pouting so hard that she’s possible going to strain certain muscles, or break certain bones, or injure certain people (and pigeons) with the force of her wavering eyes.

“Why,” he says, and knows how hopeless it sounds the moment it pops out of his mouth, “am I being vilified for being ordinary, sensible and respectful of others in most ways?”

“Story of your life, isn’t it?” She replies, around her pout.

“Oi-!”

“And you’re not being that respectful of others,” she continues, still around that pout in an entirely unsettling way, “you’re not being respectful of me, for instance. Not being polite and shagging me against the wall like I’m asking you to, not being lovely and actually listening to me-“

…He glares down at her. She uses her eyebrows in response.

“You are not above society, Chris,” he says through vaguely gritted teeth. Not that gritted because it actually hurts his mouth to do so, but-!

“I am most of the time” …It doesn’t work at all. Her fingers simply slip up to the buttons of her oversized shirt (and, wait, is that stolen from his wardrobe?) and undo the top two, exposing an expanse of pale flesh that he just has to stare at for a moment even if it does not help his case, “and nobody would know if you pinned me up against this wall and shagged me breathless.”

“…I think they would.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“Don’t they have cameras?”

“I smashed all the cameras,” he stares at her in an appalled way, she beams and starts pressing her thigh in between his legs again, “they were starting to annoy me, and I wanted to see if I could juggle hamsters.”

“…What-?”

“Tim,” the pout has returned, he’s not sure where it went but it was probably somewhere nice and sunny and capable of giving out pouting tenure or something equally as ridiculous, “do you want me to shag somebody else against this lovely piece of wall that can support a fully grown woman’s weight and probably a middle aged-“

“Oi!”

“-Man’s weight too?”

…Well.

That would be rather-

O2 Faun!Jim and Mr. Tumnus from Narnia.

[(Anonymous)]

Together, they bond over humans being weird, fauny things, and how glad they are the White Witch is gone. Or something.

UNPROMPTED: Wednesday Evening, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/4]

[(Anonymous)]

It occurs to her quite suddenly, on a Wednesday night when she’s sitting on Tim’s bed and listening to the snarling of his ex wife downstairs, that she hasn’t actually seen her boyfriend (fuck buddy, dude who is good on sofas and against walls) naked yet. She’s seen his cock, yes, seen an awful lot of that – but apart from that there’s been nothing. Not a flash of chest, not a glimpse of leg, not even a teasing show of ankle! (Though, granted, that would just lead to a long night of her singing ‘Oom Pa Pa’ as he tried to blind himself with his hands.)

It’s quite unfair.

Incredibly unfair.

And she slides off the bed as a result, pauses for a second to ruffle her hair in the mirror (Judith’s hair is always so perfect, playing into the hands of their capitalist overlords without a single thought) and then grandly throws the door open – sauntering down the stairs like an avenging demon off to do some truly astounding work.

And see some cock.

…But, then, that is truly astounding work!

They’re in the kitchen, where most of the casual dramas of Tim’s life seem to occur (the place might be haunted by ghosts, woo). She dangles on the bottom step for a few seconds…

And determines that they’re discussing-slash-yelling completely boring matters (with Marcus. Ew, Marcus) and immediately strides forwards again! Skipping off the step and bounding down the hall with all the speed and enthusiasm of a kangaroo on an awful lot of weed.

“-And that is why I divorced you!” Judith is finishing on a triumphant yell when she enters. Which is quite boring, really – especially since she’s been saying it for several months in exactly the same way. Like she believes that everybody else has a hearing problem (though she might be right on that, actually, it’d certainly explain why so few others recognize the serious problem of society being a load of capitalist shit that attempts to drown them every single working day) and her opinion is the very best thing on the planet.

Yeah, right, she doesn’t believe in the sheer wonderfulness of Tim’s lips. Her opinion is obviously null and void.

“And furthermore-!” And boring, very boring, has she mentioned that?

“What-?” She’ll obviously have to mention it again. Preferably at an extra loud volume what with that little bastard staring at her like she’s not supposed to be here.

“Chris…?” Extra, extra loud. To get that faintly guilty, for something that he shouldn’t feel guilty over this time and she really will have to teach Tim priorities at some point, expression off Tim’s face before it causes a horrific injury or something.

“…What are you-?” Extra, extra, extra-

“Hi!” She beams brightly instead, for there’ll be time for that later and she’s had a far better idea, and grabs Tim’s chin. Tugging his head back into a rather in depth kiss containing lips and tongue and teeth and a whole host of things designed to make certain society-aiding bitches (and bastards) combust into a seething bonfire of rage.

She rather likes the warmth.

Likes it even better in the seconds after they separate. With Judith, hah, shooting to her feet and storming to the door and Marcus, extra hah, turning an angry shade of red and darting to the stairs and Tim, almost a hah, blinking at the kitchen around him with a quite wonderfully dazed expression.

Hah.

Hah.

…She’s starting to sound like Nelson, it’s probably best to stop that. To turn innocently on her heel instead, and fix dearest dazed Tim (not her most favourite state of Tim, she’ll admit, but she can cope) with her brightest halo stained with the hopeless tears of all the corporate bastards that have dared to try and order her around, “did I do something wrong?”

She only receives a vague glare in reply.

UNPROMPTED: Wednesday Evening, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/5]

[(Anonymous)]

“That,” Tim says, slowly standing up in the manner of a volcano about to erupt and possibly end up in several very boring history books that don’t tell the interesting facts anyway, “was entirely inappropriate, Chris!”

“Fun, though,” she comments brightly, glad that she’s always been a bit attracted to volcanoes-

…Okay, so that’s not true.

But she’s attracted to remarkably Tim shaped volcanoes? So that will have to do for now with the lava bubbling up inside him and the rock just waiting to explode loose into a stray helicopter!

“It was not fun,” Tim continues to say, very flatly for a man containing bubbling fire from the centre of the earth (is this metaphor getting weird now? She doesn’t really care, but…), “It was deeply humiliating, horribly embarrassing and entirely inappropriate!”

“You’ve already said that,” she says with an innocent smile, not backing up a step (she’s already leaning against the counter, anyhow, it’s the perfect position…)

“It was so entirely inappropriate, it was worth mentioning twice!” Even as he keeps coming, with his arms flailing like he expects to achieve flight (ooh, she’ll have to try that someday) with the sheer force of his utter, incoherent dismay at everything around him.

…It could be better, she must admit, “I’m bored now.”

Much better, “that’s nice!”

Much, much better, “extremely bored.”

Much, much, much better, “wonderful!”

Much, much, much, much, much, much, much… “B-O-R-E-D.”

“Stop spelling it-!”

…And she finishes her internal chant of ‘much’ (it’s such a nice word, not as nice as Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis but it’ll do), and takes the express decision to reach for the bottom of his shirt instead of listening to a single moment more of pointless ranting (honestly, he’ll thank her for it in the end!)

UNPROMPTED: Gotta Get Down on Friday, Girl!Chris/Tim, PG (for the moment) [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

Sequel to this: http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=1905940#t1905940 (And all the other ones in this growing (IT'S ALIVE!) verse.)

--

They’re shopping for supplies when it happens.

“I’m just saying,” he grumbles, as he moves along the street inspecting apples and oranges and watermelons (…Well, tradition has to end somewhere), “that calling my son a bastard is not the most appropriate thing you could do.”

“Eh,” she… Doesn’t agree, even absently. Just continues strolling along and vaguely inspecting the produce like she’d far prefer to inspect aliens or have sex or learn how to juggle or have sex.

She is a bit insatiable, after all.

…A lot.

“I mean, could you at least try to get along?” He still continues pressing, moving in a rather desperate way along the street (and attracting faintly incredulous glances from almost everybody that they pass. It’s probably because Chris is way out of his league in most ways, he expected that this day would come and prepared for it accordingly), “it can’t be that hard.”

“Meh,” she… Sort of disagrees, watching boredly as he pauses by one of those mysterious watermelon stalls and decides that he might as well pick one up to test the weight.

“I’m going to try my very hardest to be nice to your parents, after all…” He sighs, firmly taking it in his hands.

“Mm,” she nods politely, watching him.

“And it would be very, very nice if you could extend the same courtesy to my family. Marcus may be a little stubborn at times, I grant you that, but he’s a lovely kid underneath and-“

“Yeah,” she interrupts, in a way that shows no signs of agreement at all, “lovely. Do you realize that you haven’t given me head yet?”

…And he drops the watermelon.

UNPROMPTED: Gotta Get Down on Friday, Girl!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2A/2]

[(Anonymous)]

…And then they don’t really talk about it for a week.

Not after they return home after the shopping trip (and paying for the ruined watermelon), not on Saturday when she declares that riding is a tradition and proceeds to convince him of it, not on Sunday when he wakes up to discover her sprawled across most of the bed, not on Monday when he narrowly avoids making public sex another tradition, not on Tuesday when he absolutely fails to avoid her in the park, not on Wednesday when he awkwardly ends up serenading her over half a glass of wine, not on Thursday when he grabs his gun from her hands before she can do any serious damage…

No.

It’s not until next Friday, after a rather nice dinner with her parents, that the subject is continued. Not at the most inappropriate of times, granted, but still just after her parents have left the room (to go and sit in front of the TV, and yell insults at the conservative government – so far they’re honestly the most liberal couple that he’s ever met, but their ability to blame Cameron for absolutely everything is something entirely fearsome to behold).

“So,” Chris beams, moving to close the door before him just as he’s about to follow the king and queen of bashing, “you still haven’t given me head.”

He stares at her for a moment.

Stares at her properly for a moment.

“Chris,” and then speaks very slowly, half wondering what would happen if he just gave up and charged the doorknob, “what have we said about being inappropriate?”

“Nothing much,” she beams cheerfully, taking a flirtatious step towards him in her short dress and high heels and- she planned this.

And it is for that reason, as well as the selective deafness in any situation that doesn’t suit her, that he flatly stares. Even as she comes closer and closer with that incredibly unfair expression (the one designed to seduce anybody with a pulse) flashing in her big, brown eyes.

“No, really,” and even as she pauses right before him, with a pout starting to tremble and an imploring expression starting to grow, “We didn’t say much after I rode you that time-“

“…Well.”

“-Or after I pinned you against that wall at work and ravished you-“

“You ran off-!”

“-Or after you slammed me against that kitchen cabinet and gave me bruises that have only just faded-“

“I do recall a few words before that…”

“-Or when I rode you on the sofa again-“

“…Well.”

“-Or when we did it in the park with one of your colleagues watching-“

“…Oh God.”

[Crossover] Bunny/Gerard [Bunny and the Bull/Peep Show]

[(Anonymous)]

What is with my brain? I have never seen either but I want this! (Totally blame Jim and Simon for this.)

So, one of them wakes up to find the other randomly in their house. Neither can figure out what happened, but after squabbling/fighting like an old married couple they realize they might actually care for each other.

Bizarre adventures, fights, snuggling, being adorable - I want everything and anything!!

UNPROMPTED: Drunk on Sunday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/3]

[(Anonymous)]

[A/N: Sequel to this: http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=1928468#t1928468

...And, yes, I am going to name all the days of the week as skilfully as Rebecca Black (and possibly twice. <<)]

--

There’s a certain feeling that you get when you’re somewhere between entirely drunk and fully sober. A certain seething, bubbling feeling that makes you think you can do absolutely anything and be absolutely anyone: that you can dance all night without a single moment of pain, that you can actually have conversations without looking like an absolute fool, that you can get the perfect girl (or boy) without a single screeching dissenter stepping forwards to spoil the mood.

He watches Chris, a little less drunk and as bouncy as ever, through slightly hooded eyes. Watches the way she moves on the end of her couch, watches those long arms flying as she discusses the horrors of society at a speed that would quite terrify the uninitiated.

The perfect girl…

He leans forwards, bolstered by the warmth of two beers or more, grabs her pale and bony wrist and drags her towards him before she can do more than blink. Captures her mouth in a deep, hard, filthy kiss that makes her grip at the front of his shirt and whimper vaguely into his mouth.

When he draws back she is breathless, briefly able only to continue clinging to the front of his shirt and splutter uselessly for words.

“…Um,” she says eventually, still blinking like she’s not quite sure what just happened, “um, Tim-?”

He draws her in again, wrapping his arms around her waist this time and tugging her so close that he can feel the press of her breasts even through his shirt. She actually whines when he tilts his head and delves fully into her mouth, actually whimpers and clenches her hands and holds on like she’s never been so surprised in her life.

And, granted, he’s not usually like this.

But he figures, with three beers or more happily sloshing around inside him, that they can deal with a brief change in the routine. When they draw back the next time, for air and only air, he reaches down until his fingers are firmly hooked around the underside of her bare thighs – stands up and, with one firm hitch, lifts her with him. Heading for the stairs (and he has no idea how she got enough money to buy a house of her own, but he’s hardly going to argue) with her skin warm beneath his fingers and her breath happily surprised against his ear.

She briefly leans over him when they get to the door, scrabbles quickly at the side table and comes up with something small clutched in her hand.

…He figures that he can worry about it later.

UNPROMPTED: Drunk on Sunday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/3]

[(Anonymous)]

For the stairs are before him, and he’s on the first step of them, and he’s halfway up… And it’s at that point that he decides that it’ll be too slow to do all that should be done, too slow to get all the way up and kick open the door of the bedroom and negotiate their way over to the bed. But no matter, for she looks beautifully dazed when he sets her down on a step and wonderfully pretty as she blinks confusedly up at him.

“…Tim-?”

He leans down again, before she has to go through another moment of doubt, captures her lips in yet another deep kiss that has her slumping back on her step and hissing air desperately through her nose, so hard that she sounds vaguely like some bull. He chooses not to comment on that, though, chooses not to spoil the moment – only ducks his head, kisses along her jawline, kisses lower.

Her shirt is higher tonight, blue and with a picture of the TARDIS on front, but is still easy to get rid of – to toss over the banister without another thought. He allows her the briefest moment to blink at that, the very briefest moment, and then quickly removes her bra too, ripping it slightly but leaning down to capture her nipple so fast that she can’t even summon the beginnings of a complaint (not that she would anyway, he knows Chris by now).

“Tim,” she gasps, hot and wild as her hands fist in his hair and his mouth switches to her other eagerly presented nipple, “TimTimTim, Tim…”

He’s never heard her so out of control.

He finds himself rather pleased by it, as he ducks his head from her breasts and continues down her body – trailing teeth over her stomach and feeling her helplessly arch beneath him and tasting her sweat as he goes ever lower over always-pale skin.

By the time he reaches her black mini-skirt he finds that he’s lost his shirt somewhere.

By the time he removes that black mini-skirt, sliding it swiftly down her long legs as she helpfully wriggles, he discovers that he doesn’t care - with her spread out and helplessly panting his name on every breath and absolutely naked before him in a way so shameless that he half wonders, bolstered by four beers and that’s probably it, how he ever lived without her.

“I never wear knickers when we’re watching things together,” she provides breathlessly after a few moments of staring, briefly propping herself up on her elbows to look down at him, “I thought, after the first time-“

“Mm,” he says, absently, and leans in again – licking past that familiar thatch of dark curls until he finds heat and wetness and that place where a certain twist of his tongue will have her screeching out his name without a single bit of shame.

He does it.

Hears her screech.

Does it again.

Hears her screech even louder, helpless noises bubbling from her lips as she half sobs his name, “Tim. Tim. TimTimTimTim…”

He smiles, can’t quite help smiling even if it means a sudden halt and a brief pause with her hot skin tempting him and her hand clenched ever so hard in his hair

“…Tim.”

Chris/Tim, parenting

[(Anonymous)]

It dawns on Tim that Chris is sort of treating Marcus like a son. Or at least like a stepson. Or at least like a kid in Tim's life that's kind of important. A bit.

It's weird, but really attractive. Even if he is using Jeremy Kyle as a way to Marcus' approval.

Unprompted Tim/Chris "(Not so) New and a Bit Alarming" PG13 1a/1

[(Anonymous)]

“Fuck you Tim.” He snaps and is actually angry which is weird, because for all his caustic nature and hatred of almost everything he is rarely actually angry. Though Tim rather feels he doesn’t have the right to be angry because he did bring it on himself, hacking is incredibly illegal after all. But then he knows that isn’t what Chris is angry about, Chris is angry because Tim ignored him and Chris for all his lone ranger stick it to the man (or woman because Chris is all about equality in these matters) attitude, he does not like to be on his own, nor does he take kindly to ignorance. Especially when it is of himself.

“Fuck you Tim.” Chris says again, angrily stuffing wires into a box even though Tim knows Chris knows they don’t belong there and he can’t decide if Chris is just being Chris or if Chris is being Chris and being contraire. “You left me to get arrested.”

“You did break the law Chris.” Tim replies as diplomatically as he can manage, which isn’t very much considering he is still very much of the opinion that Chris deserved it.

“That isn’t the point Tim.” Chris tells him, whirling round on one foot and jabbing one index finger viciously into Tim’s solar plexus. “The point is you abandoned me, I don’t care that I got arrested, I care that my friend let me down.” He storms off at this point, his skinny legs making him look like a very pissed off stick insect and only on Chris is that image ever endearing.

So Tim goes after him. “You let me down too Chris! I asked you to watch Marcus for one day and what did you do? You destroyed him!” The fact that they are in the middle of the shop does little to detract from this airing of dirty laundry they are engaging themselves in and Tim just knows Chris loves it. But then Chris looks back at him and scowls.

“I am not having this argument here.”

He heads for the stock room and Tim gets the feeling he is supposed to follow but he often gets these things wrong and so doesn’t move. That is until a woman tells him to get after his boyfriend before he loses him, and then he scuttles off to save them both the embarrassment. Of course him doing what she said just cemented the whole situation but that was hardly important right now given his sudden impending feeling that he was going to lose Chris.

“Chris.” He says when he’s closed the stockroom door behind him and although he doesn’t really know what’s about to happen, the fact that Chris won’t argue with him in public is a big problem. Chris is an exhibitionist, he likes to cause a scene. “You made my son ill.”

“Tim.” Chris looks at him, all wide-eyed with his best ‘you are an idiot’ look. “I did that for you.”

Tim cannot even see how that makes sense even in Chris logic and shakes his head disbelievingly. “What? You made my son sick for me? Why would you do that Chris?” His voice has raised a few decibels but he’s angry and so is Chris and everything is just so tense.

“Let’s not forget how you began the destruction by altering your own son’s report card Tim.” Chris hisses and gives him a look that just dares Tim to respond but then his mouth opens and he carries on anyway because Chris has never been good at shutting up when he’s supposed to. “I messed him up because I tried to get him to see what it’s like for you, he walks all over you and doesn’t respect you when he should because you’re brilliant.”

(And Tim would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by that admission.)

“If I hadn’t done what I did you wouldn’t have been sat on that sofa talking to your child like you’re both actual human beings, making him Jasmine tea when he asks you to and not because he tells you to. Tim your relationship with your dick of a child just got so much better because of me and you still left me on my own.” Chris is fuming, his chest heaving as he breathes and Tim has never seen him so impassioned, even when that customer the other week asked him how he plugged in a wireless mouse.

Tim stares at him a suitable state of absolute confusion and all he can bring himself to say is “oh.”

Unprompted Tim/Chris "(Not so) New and a Bit Alarming" PG13 1b/1

[(Anonymous)]

He doesn’t condone what Chris did, not by a long shot and yet now he can see how it makes sense to Chris. And he’s proud that he’s the only one besides Chris who understands Chris logic and it all makes sense when you think about things like Chris does. This was caustic abrasive yet terminally endearing Chris doing something nice for him in a destructively roundabout way and his heart jumps. Which is alarming.

Chris blinks at him, his huge eyes seeking out and learning and remembering like they always do and Tim smiles at the faint hint of a familiar smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes just beginning to crinkle in that wonderful way and Tim properly smiles then.

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh, idiot.” Chris says, back to being himself almost as quickly as he stopped. “You can thank me later after you’ve taken your kid out for tofu and endives or whatever it is he eats.”

Tim nods. “Sure Chris.” And then shakes his head. “Wait what’s an endive?”

“No idea.” Chris shrugs. “But he likes them so you should probably get some in.”

Tim finds it impossibly weird that he’s taking parenting tips from Chris of all people but increasingly he’s finding that Chris is the only person that makes sense in his world. Marcus is probably a close second by virtue of being so intensely rational but after that everything goes completely to pot. Judith and Phillip are a big no-no and as for the people at work, well Tim sometimes wonders how the country still works. And as for Tim himself, well he never makes sense, which is why when Chris wanders past him to seek out some new targets to destroy the soul of, Tim grabs him by the collar of that stupid red shirt and slams him against a wall.

Chris to his credit doesn’t react in shock like he probably should and it’s almost like it hasn’t been years since they last did this and his lips still feel the same as they did then. His tongue has become a little bit more skilful as it meets amiably with Tim’s but other than that Chris is still exactly the same. He kisses like he acts, biting and just a little bit fierce but underneath warm and tender and just a little bit wet. Because Chris cried at Bambi and Tim won’t ever let him forget it.

He pushes against him and backs him completely flush against the wall and Chris pushes back because that’s what Chris does only this time it is only for effect as he submits completely to Tim. Which is new, very new, because Chris is always all about showing people how much better than them he is, but now he’s letting Tim do all the showing and it’s completely mind-blowing.

His skinny wrists lock around Tim’s neck and he kisses him harder, drawing delightful mewls from Chris’ throat and Tim never thought Chris could ever be delightful. It’s a good look on him when Tim opens his eyes; he’s met with Chris’ closed ones with his dark eyelashes sitting prettily against his skin. He looks remarkably feminine like this and Tim thinks if Chris were a girl he could definitely do this all the time. But Chris isn’t a girl so Tim has to pull away from him and see the moment when he realises that even though Tim is no longer married he still won’t do this, even if Chris did just sort of fix his relationship with Marcus. He just can’t because he’s Chris. But then Chris looks saddened, not annoyed, not frustrated just sad and more than a little lonely and sometimes Tim forgets that he’s really all Chris has.

“Sorry.” He murmurs and before Chris can ask him in some remarkably acerbic way what he’s sorry for he kisses him again. Soft and sweet and slow and Chris melts and it’s just so right.

Having a mid-life crisis and subsequent revelation of sexuality whilst discussing why your friend made your son sick in the stockroom of the place where you used to work is not the best way to start a tentative and quite frankly insane liason with said friend. But given how his life has been for the past few months Tim supposes it couldn’t really have happened any other way.

And surprisingly, he’s okay with that.

UNPROMPTED: On a Tuesday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/3]

[(Anonymous)]

It’s at 3AM on a Tuesday, very early on a Tuesday, that she realizes that she loves Tim, immediately sits up from where she was doodling on his chest and stares at the darkness of the room.

…Oh.

They’ve been doing this for a fair few months now, past a few anniversaries of the sofa incident at any rate, and she supposes that they’ve been settling into a relationship and having a wonderful time and all that… But she never expected this. Never even dreamed of it even after she started sleeping over pretty much every night, never even mused on it even after Marcus stopped looking surprised at her presence after school, never even thought of it even after she woke up after that night on the stairs and pretty much decided that she’d never be sleeping with another guy ever again.

It’s a big thing.

It’s an amazing thing considering that she’s never properly been in love before and once got into an argument with a flower seller about such feelings being a concoction of the evil managers of society to get more revenue in from the fat pigs that wandered the streets looking for a suitable trough to plant their overfed faces in.

Whoa.

…Whoa.

There is, in all seriousness, only one proper response to a situation such as this.

The covers are easy to slide down, since they were already halfway down for the slight doodling, and with all her accumulated years of skill his underpants are easily removed too. Tugged off and tossed to the side because they aren’t really important, not with these suddenly tender feelings flooding her heart and affecting her mind!

…Affecting her mind.

It occurs to her for a second, small and slightly scared, that she has never been in this far and she should probably run from it before it swallows her whole. Run from the definitions, run from the labels, run from somebody suddenly so much more important than herself who she will probably end up doing far too much for-

But this is Tim.

And this is Tim’s cock, limp but promising before her, and so she firmly shoves such points away. He will never force her, he will never hurt her, she’s in love with him… And so she leans down, swallows him down with her very best move, the one that he sort of deserves by now.

Immediately he stirs, starting to grow hard and hot in her mouth.

And she tightens her lips and hollows her cheeks and bobs her head as that lovely cock grows harder yet, properly starts to rise as she adjusts her position to take every bit of it…

He groans, his fingers vaguely clutching at the covers out of the corner of her eye.

And she smiles, not with her mouth but with every bit that actually matters, and bobs her head again. And leans to twist her fingers at his base and slowly starts tracing her teeth and swallows rapidly so that she can continue taking him so very, very deep…

“Chris…?” And he’s rising! In all ways, blearily opening his eyes as his cock continues to harden and sleepily pushing up onto his elbows as it reaches full potential (in sexual terms, he can hardly lift a fridge with it, but she supposes that he’s just good enough), “I have work in the-“

So sweet. She smiles again, tilts her head.

“…OhGoddon’tstop.”

Is rewarded as he slowly, sleepily, starts pumping into her mouth. Hands suddenly tangled in her bed-head, for she always has a bed-head even if she hasn’t slept for over a day, and holding roughly there as slightly slurred groans start echoing from above.

And it’s glorious, as she twists her tongue and almost gasps at the tug to her hair…

And it’s amazing, as she scrapes her teeth again and receives a rough buck up in return…

And it’s brilliant, as she tastes him and knows how close he must be…

UNPROMPTED: On a Tuesday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/3]

[(Anonymous)]

But it’s not, if he’ll forgive her (he usually does) her ‘impudence’, exactly what she had in mind when she considered the celebrations after a grand realization of love. And while she’s usually fine with settling for less than exactly, she has to in this mess that they call a world, she does have the right to be an obnoxiously demanding twat at times such as these.

And so she draws back, swiftly with him muttering her name in a wonderfully puzzled manner, and beams at him briefly. Shuffling up to his chest before he can do more than vaguely flail at her sides and splutter about nothing in particular.

“Chris-“ he finally manages again, when she’s balanced just below his nipples and reaching for the condoms that they keep by the bed (her idea, for she has the best ideas and people really should listen to them an awful lot more before society tumbles down and the giant cockroaches take over) “…Have you drawn on my chest?”

“You’ll forgive me for it,” she hums in an entirely unconcerned manner, flipping one packet into her palm and swiftly shuffling down again.

“I do have to go to work tomorrow, what if they ask me-?”

“Tell them that you’re dating me,” she smiles blithely, sliding the condom over his cock as he instinctively (and this is, perhaps, why she actually loves him) braces her back and then her hips and then her thighs as she leans over him for a wonderfully sweet, loving, not at all a bit scary kiss, “and that I’ve given you bites in worse places.”

“You’ve given me bruises in worse places,” he hisses, so handsomely (as handsome as a hiss can be, not very since he sometimes looks like a stepped on gerbil at these moments, but it’ll do) as she slides onto him, pauses for only a moment as she gets settled and firmly braces herself on his chest “…Are we dating, then?”

…She should feel insulted, really.

She doesn’t, only braces herself harder and arches a rather firm eyebrow down, “you didn’t know that we were dating?”

“Well…” he hisses, again like a stepped on gerbil, as she starts to sway. Awkwardly brings his knees up to brace her back, and she decides on the spot (cock) that that’s yet another reason for hopelessly passionate love if she’s ever seen one, “I assumed, I must admit.”

“Good,” she hums, clenching her muscles in that particular way that makes Tim turn into a groaning teenager beneath her.

“I just assumed that you might not want to give it such a definition” …She pauses, stares down at him with wide eyes as he awkwardly continues to brace, “I mean – I want to, of course. But if you feel no desire to place a label on it then-“

…She loves him.

She honestly does love him.

And silences him with a quick and rapid lean down, a deep and loving kiss before he can say another word that’ll pluck the heart from her chest and make it all his in the most embarrassing of ways, “I’ve always liked those sort of labels, Timmy boy.”

“…You have?”

“Hush.”

Chris/Tim/Caitlin, Spy

[(Anonymous)]

So, Tim and Chris are clearly married, as is evidenced by their report-talk with Marcus.

Caitlin clearly fancies Tim, and is a very capable spy lady.

It's a shame Tim is oblivious to Caitlin's and Chris' flirting ways.

So, clearly, Chris and Caitlin need to meet, realise they both want Tim, and realise that in order to get Tim, they need to work together. And maybe strategise. And use ridiculous codenames.

And have a threeway.

Re: Chris/Tim/Caitlin, Spy

[(Anonymous)]

my favourite thing about this is the ridiculous codenames NGL

Unprompted - pheromone spray, Tim/Chris, 1 PG-13

[(Anonymous)]

It’s about fifteen minutes before he has to leave for another session that will no doubt end with everyone calling him an idiot and Paula refusing to listen to him, that the Examiner calls him in his office.

“Ah, Tim! Excellent.” The man grins at him, and Tim takes a step back.

“I need to go soon,” he says, when the Examiner gets up, brandishing what looks like a deodorant bottle. “Er?”

But it’s too late, and the other man has already sprayed him in the face with it.

Tim coughs and splutters, and wipes at his face. “What was that for?”

The Examiner just grins. “Bad breath, Tim. We can’t have our agents go into the world suffering from halitosis.”

Tim stares at him for a moment. He hasn’t had complaints, but… “Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, please,” the man says, still grinning. “Please report back tomorrow about your experiences with the… anti-halitosis spray.”

“I will,” Tim replies, backing away.

-

He grabs his things, Caitlin smiling at him over her computer monitor. “Social worker again?” she asks.

“Yes,” he replies, and heaves a sigh. “I just. She’s completely unqualified.”

“I’m sure we can arrange to have her killed,” she replies, still smiling.

He laughs. “I don’t think that’d help my case that I am saner than Judith,” he mutters. “But thanks for the idea.” He slings his bag over his shoulder, and is about to walk out when Caitlin stands up and walks after him.

“I need to… get a thing,” she says, still smiling at him. “From the supply closet. Supplies!”

He nods as they walk down the hallway together. “So, any other advice? Apart from arranging to have Paula killed?”

She looks at him. “Just be your wonderful self, Tim,” she says, then pats him on the arm, letting her hand linger. “Ooh, have you been working out?”

“No,” he says, slightly uncomfortable when her look turns admiring. “Just. Regular things.”

“It’s working for you,” she says, stroking his arm a little. “Very much.”

“Okay.” Because what else is there to say when Caitlin is stroking his arm. “Uhm, there’s the supply closet.”

“Oh.” She looks disappointed, before she starts to smile again. “You know, I need to get something from a high shelf, and you’re tall.” She gives him another admiring look. “So very tall,” she murmurs. “So, maybe you could help me?”

He knows there’s a small stepladder in that supply closet, and that Caitlin is very capable of using it. “Uhm, I’m running a bit late…”

“Oh, please, Tim?” she asks, stepping closer and twirling his tie around her finger. “You’d be doing me a big favour.” She moves closer again, and Tim backs away against the wall, but she follows him. “Perhaps I could do you a big favour later?” It’s almost a purr, and Tim stares down at her for a moment before awkwardly sliding away and retrieving his tie from her fingers.

“Oh gosh, is that the time, really must be going, see you tomorrow, bye!” he babbles, then runs off.

Women are weird.

Re: Unprompted - pheromone spray, Tim/Chris, 2 PG-13

[(Anonymous)]

This hypothesis is confirmed when Judith spends the first five minutes complaining about Tim’s terrible skills at making breakfast, which Tim thinks is highly unfair, as it’s not like he can read minds and know when Judith wants toast and when she wants a boiled egg and when she wants cereal with milk. He mentions this, but Paula shushes him.

“But – "

Paula then looks at him. “Tim, I’ll give you all the attention you want in a bit,” she says.

Tim is already scared when Paula then moves to sit next to him on the sofa while Judith keeps ranting, Philip nodding along with her. Paula, as Tim expected, slowly slides closer until she almost ends up on his lap.

“Tim, we shouldn’t,” she whispers. “Not in front of your ex-wife.”

“That’s all right,” Tim replies, smiling at Judith. He tries to shuffle away, but Paula’s hand is on his thigh and slowly creeping higher. “Quite all right!”

Paula presses herself even closer against him. “Oh, Tim, you’re right, we should celebrate our love!” She grabs his head between her hands, and kisses him.

Tim manages to stop himself from yelping, and tries to shove her off, but her grip is too strong. She finally lets go, though, and he looks up to realise Judith is the one to have dragged her off him. She’s still got Paula by the back of her shirt, glaring at her. “Thanks,” Tim mutters. Hopefully now he and Judith can agree to get another social worker on their case.

“You can’t come between us,” Paula tells Judith. “You had your chance!”

Philip has got up to stand next to Tim, looking at him with some worry. "You all right there, Timmy?”

“Yes,” Tim says, feeling relieved. He gets up as well. “I think we can all agree Paula should pass our case to a colleague."

“Yes,” Judith agrees, still glaring at Paula as she shoves her over to her chair. Judith then moves to stand in front of Tim, more protective than he’s used from her. Philip is still standing next to him, and Tim assumes it’s Philip’s hand that’s rubbing a smoothing circle on his back. “Paula, there’s something very important you need to know about Tim.”

“I’m not interested in you, Paula!” Tim exclaims, pushing Philip’s hand away, and it returns a second later. Maybe he should let Philip. It is actually quite soothing. “Never have, never will.”

Judith smiles at him, for the first time in ages. “Exactly. Paula, the thing is, Tim is ours.”

“Exactly,” Tim agrees, then yelps as Philip’s hand suddenly drops to squeeze his arse. “What?”

Judith wraps her arms around him. “Tim,” she purrs. “It’s been leading up to this all along, it’s obvious.”

“Is it?” Tim asks, as Philip plasters himself to Tim’s other side, now rubbing his arse gently. “Philip!”

“I think you need to open yourself up to the possibilities, Timmy,” Philip tells him.

Tim pushes Philip away, and then shoves at Judith until she's standing a foot away from him and pouting. “I really shouldn’t,” he says, then grabs his jacket to flee once again.

-

“Chris,” he says, having rung the only person he can. “Everyone’s gone crazy.”

“Oh, you finally noticed, have you?” comes the laconic reply.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Can you come over tonight? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure mate. At eight?”

Tim knows that means Chris will show up at any point between seven and nine. “Yes. See you later.”

“Whatever,” Chris says, and hangs up.

UNPROMPTED: A Thursday Sort of Thing, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/3]

[(Anonymous)]

The moment that he walks into his bedroom he immediately drops his gun (it clatters under the dresser, he can get it later), unhinges his jaw and halts in a manner reminiscent of a man who has just been smacked in the face with a dead haddock.

“Oh,” Chris says lazily from the bed, trailing her fingers up her inner thigh, “you’re back.”

…Is he?

Maybe, possibly, probably – he just finds it rather hard to process such things at the moment what with Chris naked on his bed with her brown hair fuzzed out around her shoulders and one hand delicately pinching a nipple and the other slowly clambering up and up her thigh until-

He makes a noise, probably not a sensible noise, the moment those fingers dip past curls and into her. Takes a swift step forwards with his hands already fiddling with his tie and his cock already growing hard and his feet already preparing to trip over each other (and he knows that he should probably be nervous, terribly nervous, about whatever Chris has planned. But nudity is a very powerful motivator and he’s hardly going to protest against that)-

“Tim” …And he’s forced to halt, as she props herself up on the bed with one elbow and glares, “no.”

…Oh.

“No?” He’s forced to ask, hands obediently frozen on his tie for he always has been rather too obedient to society and often wonders why Chris latched onto him in the first place, actually.

“No” …Being easily suggestible was probably one redeeming reason, as she allows her elbow to slip out from underneath her and flops comfortably back on the covers, “just watch for the moment, alright?”

“…But-“ he’s also forced to start, helplessly staring her breasts as they shift and helplessly tilting his head at that little twist of her wrist that draws such a breathy sigh from her-

“Watch.”

And…

Well.

He’s also forced to be obedient yet again – digging his nails into his palms and breathing hotly through his nose as he watches her work.

…And that could’ve sounded better.

UNPROMPTED: A Thursday Sort of Thing, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/3]

[(Anonymous)]

But also could’ve sounded worse and she is actually brilliant: so good that he would be captivated even if they weren’t dating (or sort of dating, considering that they do no actual dating type things besides having wild and often inappropriate sex at every opportunity), even if they didn’t have so many years of friendship and so many months of more behind them. Every little arch of her hips makes his breath choke in his throat, every tiny twitch of her fingers makes his eyes flutter briefly shut, every moan that she gives makes him harder and harder to the point where he would almost consider begging for relief.

…Best not to mention that, since she’d only look remarkably fascinated and suggest that they try it.

But, at the moment, he is adoring enough to disregard even that bit of sensible advice – to just watch her, arching and glorious on the bed, and know that he’d probably do absolutely anything for her, probably throw himself into a thousand inappropriate and highly worrying situations just to get her love.

…Her-

Okay: soppy, sloppy and entirely inappropriate in a way that isn’t even puzzlingly fun. For Chris’ hips are arching faster and faster on the bed, and her fingers are twitching harder and harder, and she’s starting to mewl at the top of her lungs in a way that simultaneously manages to turn his legs into jelly and his cock into the hardest thing that has ever existed on the planet (although that makes it sound like a diamond - which is just worrying, really).

He finds himself stepping forwards, slowly and helplessly, reaching out a hand that really wants to meddle in certain affairs-

“Tim” …And immediately halts, obedient yet again.

Though, at that point, maybe it was less of a command and more of a cry - as Chris’ fingers finally dip and her thrusts speed up for a long moment before she slumps back into the bed with a sigh so blissful that it’d be entirely unsuitable for public consumption.

…Well, if it wasn’t Chris.

He takes another step towards the bed, cautious despite her blissed out state.

Another, when she doesn’t protest.

Another, so that his knees are bumping against the mattress and he’s almost close enough to reach out and slip his finger over one of those nipples…

And he has only a moment, a rather sudden moment, to reflect on how she cries his name even when he’s nowhere near before he’s dragged down onto the bed – air huffing out of his lungs and eyes blinking as she rolls them and braces her hands upon his chest.

Her eyes are wicked as they look down, “Your turn, Timmy.”

Chris/Tim, Halloween.

[(Anonymous)]

They celebrate Halloween. Possibly in costume. With an unimpressed Marcus and terrible horror films.

UNPROMPTED: Blades on Saturday, Female!Chris/Tim, R [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

“Um,” he starts, the moment that she leans back from their kiss and sits back on his chest (and he’s not sure why exactly she always tops, but he hardly minds the situation).

“Um?” She asks with an arch of her eyebrow, fiddling around behind her back (and he’s always admired the flexibility of her arms… Which is an odd thing to admire, really) until her bra comes loose and slides down over her shoulders.

…Mm.

He takes a moment to stare at her breasts, because they are lovely and she’d probably smack him if he didn’t, before he blinks and looks up at her again – and that smug smirk is surprisingly easy to work with, really, considering how very smug it is, “Do you remember certain… Things we discussed?”

She considers that for a second, her fingers drumming on his naked chest, “we’ve discussed a lot of things, Tim.”

…True, they do still talk a lot. It’s probably a good thing in relationship terms, even if not so brilliantly wonderful in ‘getting awkward things out’ terms, “Bedroom things, I mean.”

She frowns down at him for a second.

He smiles brightly up at her, pleased at that very little step.

“…Does this mean that you’re willing to let me suck ice cream off your cock and drizzle chocolate sauce over your nipples?”

…Trust Chris to come to that conclusion, “soon.”

“Or the other way around?”

“Soon.”

“Why not-?”

“Because I still haven’t got fresh towels or plastic covers, Chris!” He pauses, forcibly halts himself – breathes out a slow, calm breath through his nose as she looks down at him like his quaint ideas about cleanliness and not attracting rats are the most amusing things that she’s ever seen “…It isn’t about eating food off me.”

“Right,” she considers that for a second, turns it over in her mind and frowns in a manner that can only be considered thoughtful “…Bondage, then?”

…Ah, “still in the future.”

“Because I have handcuffs…”

“Still in the future,” he sighs, again through his nose… And, alright, maybe he somewhat overestimated his ability to discuss this considering that he can’t even talk his son into liking him and he’s only avoiding absolutely failing those counselling sessions because Paula still has a rather inappropriate crush upon him (despite Marcus begrudgingly talking about his girlfriend several times, and Chris’ pathological need to stake her claim on everything that she lays her eyes on).

Perhaps it’s best to try another tactic.

Perhaps it’s best to show her instead. And so he awkwardly leans up, making sure to brace her hip with one hand, and reaches behind him. Digging under the pillow until he finds…

The look on Chris’ face when he pulls the knife out is one he will remember forever, the smile that she gives when he presses it into her hands is probably one that’ll dance happily through most of his good dreams before he’s merrily woken up by reality and loud demands for morning sex.

“I’ve already disinfected it, and cleaned it, and done all the appropriate things that the internet told me to do,” he smiles awkwardly, leaning back on the bed as she gently weighs it in her hands “…And that actually sounds a lot weirder than it should. But I knew that you wanted to do it, and know that you’ve wanted to do it for ages, and so I just thought-“

He’s interrupted by a kiss, surprisingly sweet and hot and perfect, and a bright smile as she leans back – still holding the knife in her hands like she’s never found anything so perfect in her whole life.

“Tim.”

…Odd that he gets the impression that she’s found him.

UNPROMPTED: Blades on Saturday, Female!Chris/Tim, R [2A/2]

[(Anonymous)]

The blade is cold as it traces his skin and he tries to relax underneath it – it can only make things easier, after all, if the muscles are tensed and ready… Well, bad things will probably happen. He’s not quite sure what bad things, but he’s pretty sure that they’re bad.

…Coherent.

“Safe word?” Chris asks softly, making sure to keep the knife suspended – actually being kind and… That doesn’t surprise him, really, she’s hardly a warm and fluffy marshmallow underneath all the spikes but she isn’t directly cruel to the people she cares about.

It takes him only a thought, a deeply drawn breath, to gather his mind and answer, “capitalism.”

And she snorts above him, and he’s actually starting to find her snort lovely after all these months, “It’s meant to be something that you can say quickly, Tim.”

He considers this for a second, the blade tracing lower and lower on his stomach, “I can probably say capitalism quickly if that knife is about to cut off vital parts of me.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly amused, “fingers?”

“Toes.”

“Cock?”

“…You would have that idea.”

She laughs above him at that, and makes sure to remove her knife for the duration of the shuddering – a nice touch that he can’t really help but smile at “…Capitalism it is, then.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Don’t push your luck…”

But she’s smirking, as she says it, and smirking as she slowly balances forwards on his waist (bracing herself properly, and he is glad for that) and brings the knife forwards – checking carefully for his reaction every slow inch of the way.

To his pride, and he means his true pride here, he manages to repress a flinch as she aims it for his neck. Is very glad that he did so as she gently lowers it instead and traces a line across his collarbone – shallow, light, more tickling than actually painful.

He draws in a low breath as she gently scrapes another line, and he never expected to start getting hard at this.

And then, with a quick glance up and a careful nod of assent in return, she smiles a little and edges lower down his body – wriggling until she can settle herself (and that doesn’t really help with the hardness) and get the knife into a careful position again. She lightly swipes the blade over his chest – soft, butterfly lines that only draw pleasantly tingling scratches that he’ll probably find himself accidentally admiring in the mirror later. She’s careful, polite, perfect…

And he’s still growing hard. Which is actually quite lovely, really.

After a few more passes of the knife, her lip held attractively between her teeth as she concentrates, he gently reaches up and presses a hand to her shoulder. She immediately stops, sits back and looks at him with a slightly tilted head and questioning eyes.

He smiles, in response, gently taps against her hip in a gesture just as fond as a kiss, “you can draw blood if you want.”

She stares for another second, eyes going steadily wider as she takes him in (and he does see temptation there, just as he knew he would) “…Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nods, instantly.

“It’ll hurt.”

“I can stand it.”

She arches her eyebrow.

“I am a spy.”

She arches her eyebrow higher.

“…It’s you. And I know that you’ll be as careful as it’s possible for you to be.”

She-

Smiles, so brilliantly that it’d remind him why he loved her even if he didn’t know every single second of most days, holds the knife aside and leans down for yet another sweet kiss that he finds himself arching into with fingers tangling in her hair.

“Right,” she smiles, as she draws back and prepares the knife again, “remember: capitalism, evil but safe in this situation.”

“Believe me, I remember.”

“Good.”

UNPROMPTED. Chris/Tim, children's TV presenters, PG-13

[(Anonymous)]

Tim had never really imagined himself taking off a large costume elephant head as part of his daily routine, never mind as part of his job. Still, the world moves in mysterious ways, and all that.

He waddled into his changing room and threw the head onto the sofa, before leaning against his dressing table and sighing.

Today had been, without a doubt, almost a complete disaster. And it was all down to the fact that his co-presenter was utterly insane. And, considering they presented a TV show for kids, that was saying something.

It wasn’t even as if the usual perk-ups could be blamed: no cocaine, no poppers, no OD’ing on Red Bull. Chris was just...Chris. He’d deliberately ignore lines, would make obscene shapes out of whatever materials were available, and would generally use as bad language as he could get away with (which included some ridiculous wordplay).

And Tim was utterly in love with the mad bastard.

...And Tim was the guy in the elephant costume. He doubted Chris even knew what he looked like, never mind his name.

Well, there had been that time that Chris had chased “Nellie” around the studio with a poleaxe (practical demonstration of medieval weaponry, apparently).

Afterward, Chris had looked into the mesh-covered mouth-hole and asked,

“You alright? Didn’t scare you too much, did I?”

That, Tim mused, had been the exact moment he had fallen hopelessly in love with his co-presenter.

A knock at the door broke Tim’s reverie, and he looked up. There stood Chris, hair still tousled and as insane as the man himself.

“...Hi,” Chris waved.

“...Hi,” Tim waved back.

“You’re Tim, right?” Chris asked. “The guy who plays Nellie?”

Tim nodded.

“Huh,” Chris chuckled, “you look a bit like an elephant that’s been sliced up for science, without the head. Still. I saw you before, said hi. Don’t think you heard me, though. You were with that little shit, Marcus. He’s your son, right?”

“How can I help?” That came out a bit gruffer than Tim had wanted; he winced, but Chris smiled and stepped closer.

“Well,” he replied, tilting his head in the most adorable manner. “I was actually wondering...”

He trailed off, stepping in and locking the door behind him.

“...I was wondering,” he repeated, “how quickly I could remove that costume and give you a blowjob.”

And suddenly Tim was being kissed, and his costume was being unzipped, leaving in him in just a light t-shirt and his boxers.

He pulled back.

“What...?”

“Oh,” Chris said, as if it should be obvious. “I’m sort of in love with you. Can we get on, please? I’d quite like us to be in the pub by eight, and it’s seven now, so...”

...It may not have been the most romantic proposition Tim had ever received, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. It was Chris, and it was perfect.

He pulled Chris close and kissed him as hard as he could.

Re: UNPROMPTED. Chris/Tim, children's TV presenters, PG-13

[(Anonymous)]

I think I'v already told you how brilliant this is but I'm just going to tell you again, okay?

BRILLIANCE. <333

UNPROMPTED: Monday Moving, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

Okay, so she isn’t much for the domestic sort of thing.

To her it’s creepy, stifling. Put on an apron and bake cookies and be generally nice and fluffy and bunny-like and ugh. She’d much rather be living in an apartment (ignoring the house that she owned, that was just so she could piss off the neighbours), or a hotel, or even a cardboard box!

…But this is Tim.

And Tim is sweet, and kind, and nice, and bumbled so much when he started talking about this huge and terribly meaningful step that she just had to put him out of his misery (in the nice way, the very nice way when you factor in the blow-jobs), and… Well, she’s pretty sure that he’d never force her into anything.

And he’s also very easy to convince when it comes to sex in removal vans, which is always a plus.

“Can’t you be a bit quieter?” He mutters desperately in her ear, taking the brief opportunity to glance back over his shoulder and almost fall into her dresser (actually into, that thing has big drawers), “what if they come back?”

“Then you have a very nice arse,” she smiles brightly, squeezing it to prove her point.

“Chris…”

“And I have very nice breasts,” she tilts her head back slightly, hisses breath out between her teeth as he hits an almost perfect spot inside her, “I really don’t see what your problem is.”

…He only grumbles.

And she’ll happily call it victory.

They’re pressed awkwardly back against the wardrobe that her grandmother gave her several years ago (it had fifty three pears in it when she first received it, she never really got around to asking). Both entirely naked, for if you’re going to be publicly indecent you might as well do it properly, and panting an awful lot about it. Her legs are snugly wrapped around his waist, her back against wood. His arms are braced either side of her, his hips moving with a rolling speed that is quite brilliant.

“One would think,” she still finds the time to comment absently, on a gasp as he muffles a groan into her collarbone, “that you wanted this to be over quickly.”

“…Yep.”

“Really?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

She considers this for a second, pulls him closer with a clench of her thighs and doesn’t even pretend not to see the expression of pure lust that flickers across his face, “you’re never going to admit that you actually get off on stuff like this, then?”

“…Nope.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

UNPROMPTED: Monday Moving, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/2]

[(Anonymous)]

She considers this for another second, even if one briefly broken by another perfect place being reached and a scream of her own being carefully muffled into Tim’s hair “…That’s a pity.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she pouts, and makes sure to make it her very best pout – the one that, even though he won’t admit it no matter how many handjobs she gives, turns him into a melting pile of goo every single time (she is a goddess, after all), “thinking about your desk at work, after all, all that big space that I could sprawl nakedly on with you in between my thighs…”

Hah, he actually gives an unintended thrust at that!

…Interesting.

Very interesting.

“With my breasts out…”

“Shut up,” he grunts, hitching her a little higher and desperately closing his mouth around a nipple – hah, like that’ll stop her. As much as she loves her nipples she is entirely, mm, impervious to any wiles worked upon such tender flesh.

“And my sexy secretary costume on…”

And he sucks at her nipple again - but she is still, mm, impervious and so-!

Oh, fuck.

Suddenly he starts moving faster, so fast that her nails dig into his bare shoulders and she lets a breath hiss tightly between her teeth, and harder. So hard that her back starts scraping against the wardrobe with every single thrust. The moments where he hits her perfect spots, which were hardly rare in the first place, increase - until every second she is muffling a cry into his hair. Her nails start scratching lines, she huffs with every breath, her heels dig so tightly into his back that they must hurt…

And when she comes, with a shriek that might not be entirely muffled in his head, she finds herself happily boneless – gently slumping down the wardrobe as he gives a few more thrusts and then comes with a low groan almost professionally (prostitute Tim. Mmm, kinky) muffled into her shoulder.

“…Desk sex, then?” She smiles, as her feet slowly hit the floor.

“Inappropriate, Chris.”

“But wanted?”

“…Inappropriate.”

“We just had sex in a removal van…”

“And whose idea was that?”

“Whose idea was it to move in the first place?”

…She figures that they can be forgiven for giggling like idiots and making out in said removal van. As soppy as it is, and it is very soppy, at least it’s still entirely inappropriate.

And with the promise of desk sex in the future, at that.