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hhanon ([personal profile] hhanon) wrote2011-10-21 09:20 pm

What? They've acted in OTHER things?!

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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Archiving Prompts and Fills

UNPROMPTED: The Wednesday Sixty-Niner, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-05 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
It’s late when they get back from their anniversary celebration (well, three days post-anniversary trip to scare people at the cinema) and she’s a little bit giggly as he presses her back against the door and kisses her thoroughly with her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands curving over her narrow hips.

“I’m so glad I started fucking you,” she breathes in between kisses, giggling yet again as he wrinkles his nose and reaching up to peck it (she gets his top lip, he figures that’s hardly something to complain about).

“Couldn’t you be more romantic?” He frowns, mock frowns for he’s a little too dizzy at the moment to manage anything proper, as he draws back – still can’t resist letting her lean after him with her long leg coming up to wrap around his hips.

“Why?” She giggles, aiming for his nose again and ending up with his cheek (still nothing to complain about).

He makes a slight face at it, only a slight one – still a little too dizzy, wraps his arms all the tighter around her and drags her up for another proper kiss, “it is technically our anniversary…”

So?”

At her snort, and a snort should really not be attractive on any person, he decides to go for broke – wraps his arms even tighter around her waist and picks her up, spins her around with a certain sort of joy that should probably be allowed on occasions such as these…

And ends up tripping over his own feet, crashing down on the stairs with her giggling on top of him and his back already hurting.

“…You should be nice to me today,” he finishes in a slightly out of breath way, after he’s done pretending not to notice her subtle checking of his head.

Why?” And as she sits back on his chest, a wicked smirk curving her lips as she taps her fingernails (half of them far too long, half of them far too short) against his shirt.

“If we’re having fantastic sex on a regular basis…”

And she’s snorting again.

And leaning down for another kiss, one that practically invites him to raise his hands and bury them in her thick, slightly curly hair (still a mane, for she is Chris and will be sure to have a mane even when she’s ninety and hitting people with a cane).

“It is pretty fantastic,” she purrs, the moment she draws back and casually tugs up the straps of her dress.

“Mm,” he has to agree, for it is one of those facts that you can’t get away from – like the sun rising and Marcus treating him with faint scorn, Chris will always be absolutely amazing in bed “…So fantastic that I wonder why you decided to do it with me, sometimes.”

She only smiles down at him for a second, incredibly fondly.

“…What?”

“You idiot,” and wrinkles her nose equally fondly, as she leans down to give him an enthusiastic hug (which does not help his back any, but he’s still hardly going to raise a fuss), “I knew, for about two years before I actually made my move, that if I turned to you and kissed you or asked you out for a ‘date’ or even proposed marriage that you’d probably blink for a few moments and then happily accept.”

…Blink for a few moments, as he’s doing now, “really?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He considers this for a few seconds, it seems something to consider as he slowly slides his hands up her legs and feels the soft flesh of her thighs beneath his fingers “…Do you know everything before me?”

“Pretty much,” she only giggles, and slowly levers herself to her feet with the aid of the banister and his always helpful chest beneath her hands, “including what we’ll be doing tonight, actually.”

“Oh?”

Oh.”

…He smiles, in a lovingly resigned way, and extends his hand – letting her pull him up and onwards to the bedroom waiting ahead.

He can hardly protest, after all, considering that everything that she says is true.

UNPROMPTED: The Wednesday Sixty-Niner, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-05 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
When they finally get up to the bedroom, and to the bed with his shirt discarded messily over a chair and her dress tossed casually into a corner and his trousers gone god knows where, she seems unable to restrain further giggles as she perches upon his waist. He can only smile, fondly, slip his fingers up to caress the still warm skin of her thighs as she laughs and laughs.

“…Well?”

“I’m a little bit drunk,” she confesses, in something that is probably meant to be a whisper, but that ends up more of a shaking snort.

Right…” He makes another face, still not entirely serious because nobody could manage entirely serious in this sort of situation, flips them before she can protest and kisses her so thoroughly that she won’t even want to.

“…Well?” He asks again when he comes up, maybe gasping for breath.

“Well,” she only drawls in reply, holding onto his shoulders and beaming up at him so brightly that he couldn’t resist (even if his boss was holding a knife to his throat, which is quite something if you think about it), “Have you ever heard of sixty-nine?”

…Oh.

Oh.

No further words are needed, for he may have fantasised about that sort of thing all the way through university and the many long years of marriage to Judith, and instead they do, indeed, end up kissing for some time. Her nails scratching at his shoulders and his hands tangled in her hair.

“…Well?” It is her turn to ask when they part again, her fingers caressing ever so lightly up his neck.

Yes,” he can only breathe, and is already shifting into position before a single word more can be said on the subject.

It is quickly decided, after a few more moments of giggling and awkward shifting (and almost kneeing him in the shoulder, but he can forgive that), that he should be the one to start and she can quickly follow – it seems sensible, after all, she is usually the one with the most stamina (unless he’s had a few beers and is perfectly amiable to make her come screaming against most surfaces) and is generally better at dealing with such things.

…He still has to poke her in the thigh after a few moments have passed, of course, but it would’ve been worse with him.

And is worse with him, actually, as his tongue briefly stills upon her (so sweet and slightly tangy and he will never get sick of that taste) and he can’t help but moan as her lips close tightly around his cock.

But, then, at least he recovers with the needy twitch of her hips.

And leans forward to run his tongue over her again, closing his eyes and moaning into her flesh as she responds with a pleased rumble of her own and a happy hollow of her cheeks.

…And he has to say, as he starts seeing stars after only a few minutes of such treatment, this? Is the sweetest torture ever devised by man or woman or porcupine from outer space (and he really has been spending far too much time with his boss), and he loves it about as much as he loves her.

He finds himself absently thrusting his hips after a few moments, also finds himself closing his eyes and giving an involuntary shudder as she simply takes him deeper with every single movement.

He has to respond, of course, and hopes that he does so in style – she still tastes wonderful, brilliantly and strangely wonderful, and he speeds up his pace: lapping at her over and over again and feeling her writhe over him in the happiest way possible.

She rewards him with a flick of her tongue, a happy scrape of her teeth…

And when he comes, only a few moments after that treatment and with a happy flick of her fingers just behind his balls, he narrowly resists the urge to flop boneless to the bed and close his eyes – instead uses the extra surge of energy to speed up his tongue, to daringly thrust it into her as she lifts her head from swallowing and groans helplessly out at the air.

When she comes, only a few moments later and with a happy tensing of her thighs, he may take it as a sort of victory.

When he wakes the next morning, with her wrapped in his arms and the sound of birds tweeting outside, he may soppily take it as a far bigger one.

[Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) 2011-11-05 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
because I've just watched it for the first time and I'm torn between 'please give back my heart which you just stamped on' and '... so where's the porn?'

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) 2011-11-06 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
IKR. Bunny even goes 'anything but penetration' at one point.

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-06 03:58 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-06 15:02 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-07 01:30 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-12 19:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-14 02:37 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-14 11:35 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [Bunny and The Bull] Bunny/Stephen

(Anonymous) - 2011-11-14 18:45 (UTC) - Expand

Armstrong and Miller Andrew/Azlo

[identity profile] balinese-baby.livejournal.com 2011-11-05 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Andrew (Ben Miller) is trying to interrogate Azlo (Jim).
What means of persuasion does he use if not the truth serum.

from this sketch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oopnhi4p9g

Re: Armstrong and Miller Andrew/Azlo

(Anonymous) 2011-11-06 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
That's hilarious! Azlo looks so menacing until the boss comes in with cake, then he looks so confused, I need to see this series.

[Spy] Examiner/Chris

(Anonymous) 2011-11-06 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
...It's kind of obvious, if you think about it.

FILL: Don't Damage the Wall, Examiner/Chris (With a bit of Examiner/Chris/Tim at the end), PG-13

(Anonymous) 2011-11-14 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
“Hi. So, what do you-?” He halts, blinks, takes a step back and resists the very passionate urge to screech a soul rending scream from the very depths of his being “…Chris?”

“Hi Tim!” Chris, for it is Chris, chirps. Bouncing up to his feet from his knees… Where he was kneeling. In an obedient way. In an obediently sexual sort of way.

“Ah, Tim,” says the Examiner, tucking himself back in with a smile that could be charming but actually a hair away from outright insanity (as always, really), “Nice to see you! In here for a reason?”

“…You summoned me,” he starts. Very, very slowly – and still a step away from that soul rending scream as he watches a tiny drop of white trail its way down from the side of Chris’ mouth.

“Did he?” Chris’ frowning mouth, Chris’ puzzled mouth like he has any right to be terribly bemused by this whole horrific situation designed only to give the universe a chance to punch him repeatedly in the face, “so that was what the phonecall was about…”

“Yes,” The Examiner nods, smiles at his noise of strangled trauma “…Do you know what I summoned you for, Tim?”

“An attempt to break my sanity completely?”

“I thought I managed that several weeks ago” …He is not looking at Chris’ slightly flushed face, not at all - nope, not for a single moment. Strangled trauma all the way.

“Tim!” Strangled trauma, as he also very firmly does not think about that brief glimpse of the Examiner’s cock and the many uses it’s probably been put to “…I actually think that this is going to be a wonderful surprise for you.”

“Yay.”

“Yay!”

Yes,” strangled trauma, all the strangled trauma – and not at all thinking about Chris’ mouth on his cock (and he worries for his brain, he really does) or his mouth on the Examiner’s cock (worries) for a single moment. No. Not at all, “Tim, I’ve decided to interfere in your love life. Something needed considering your strange unwillingness to pick up the weak and needy members of society.”

“…Great,” he sighs, feeling nothing but weary tension.

“Isn’t it?” Especially for Chris, even with his eyes all bright and his hair sticking out at odd angles.

“Would you be interested in a threesome?” …Or the Examiner, with that predatory glint and strange shift to his eyes.

…No.

Nothing at all.

And he certainly, certainly isn’t considering it in any way, nope. Not considering what it’d be like to sneak off for quickies at work, not considering what it’d feel like to pin Chris up against a wall in return, not considering how nice the Examiner bending him over that big desk could be-

No.

Not at all!

“…Can I at least bang my head against the wall before we get started?” He asks wearily, already steeling himself for the inevitable.

“Don’t damage yourself!”

“Alright. But don’t damage the wall!”

UNPROMPTED: This Friday Night, Female!Chris/Tim, R [1A/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-06 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)
It was only a silly disagreement, a dumb argument over washing up (of all things…), but he still feels awful as he tramps down the stairs at 1AM – spots her still sitting in the kitchen, sulkily eating something sticky (of course, it is Chris), and sighs miserably through his nose.

…He’s never really been the type to hold grudges.

Mainly since they don’t end well, with Marcus getting suspended from school or him being treated to a side of Philip that he never wanted to see, but also because they’re awful - when he loves somebody he never actually wants to see them hurt, and if they’re hurt because of him…

Well.

It’s not nice, as he shuffles awkwardly into the kitchen and watches her lift her head from her rather messy looking bowl.

“…Where did you get the custard?”

Still not nice, even as she glances down at her absurdly messy looking bowl and licks some cream off her top lip, “magic.”

…Custard, cream, ice cream, a banana and several bits of chocolate. Only Chris.

Only Chris, as he clears his throat awkwardly and goes to sit in the chair across from her – watching her grumpily shift her bowl back with a certain feeling of guilt “…Um.”

“Um?” She asks quietly, lifting another spoonful of goop up to her mouth.

“…I’m sorry,” pausing with that spoonful of goop halfway up to her mouth, and frowning at him as he fiddles awkwardly with his hands (and he doesn’t know why that’s so much of a surprise, really, he’s usually the one to apologize in situations such as these), “it was a stupid thing to yell about, I shouldn’t have blown up so quickly-“

Lowers that spoonful of goop, until it’s resting right back in the bowl, “Tim.”

“-The way you wash-up is lovely, we can totally deal with rats, and I also shouldn’t have criticized you about it-“

“Tim.”

“-And basically I’m really, really sorry. And I’ll try to make sure-“

Tim!”

“-That it doesn’t happen again,” he grinds to a halt, takes in her faintly miserable frown with a rather puzzled one of his own – for she rarely frowns at times such as these. Is usually busy laughing or poking him with her foot or suggesting that they watch awful movies that are only good for helplessly wincing over instead “…Chris?”

UNPROMPTED: This Friday Night, Female!Chris/Tim, R [1B/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-06 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
“Tim,” And she certainly never frowns like that - guilty and miserable and faintly awkward all at the same time (Chris is never awkward, that’s one of her dubious charms) “…It wasn’t your fault.”

…Huh, “what-?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” but she’s already holding up her hand and looking determined, and it’s very hard to argue against that “…It’s rather hard to say this: but I was being a bitch, a cow and everything in between. I was the one picking on you and anybody else would’ve snapped long before that.”

…Huh, again, “but-“

“I wanted an argument,” but her hand is still held up, and she’s shrugging her shoulders in a way that can hardly be interrupted, “You know how sometimes… Well, nah, you wouldn’t know. But sometimes, after people with ovaries have gone through their time of the month or people with dicks have been punched in the balls a few times, some folk get ratty enough to try and take their pain out on everybody else.”

…Huh, it’s starting to lose meaning as a word, “right-“

“To try and hurt perfectly innocent people who don’t deserve snapping at,” but she’s already sliding off her chair, already walking around the island to face him with her hands on her hips, “like you, for instance. I mean, you can be a right cock at times – since you are still sadly human, but you didn’t deserve an argument today. And so-“

…Huh. Huh. He can already see what’s coming, is already holding up his hands in a faintly pleading way as she opens her mouth, “you don’t-“

“-I’m sorry” …But she does. And frowns a little afterwards, like she’s not quite sure about the taste, “that feels weird.”

“…Chris.”

“Right but weird.”

Chris,” he waits until she looks at him, decides that that might never happen (what with Chris being her always wonderful self) and reaches out instead – dragging her into his arms before she can do more than open her mouth “…You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did,” she mumbles into his hair – and is levering herself up into his lap before he can do anything more than blink, “you deserved an apology… And a far greater apology than that, actually.”

“…You don’t-“

“Shut up, Tim,” she says affectionately, and draws her top over her head before he can do more than brace her back and try desperately to stop her from falling off the chair, “And appreciate my breasts.”

UNPROMPTED: Sitting Sunday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/5]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-09 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
“How do you feel about kids?” She asks brightly one Sunday afternoon, when Marcus is off at book club (maybe an actual book club this time – instead of a dubiously illegal casino where vaguely moral statements are espoused to slightly puzzled looking almost-teenagers) and she’s busy being tied to a chair, “safeword is still capitalism, by the way.”

Kids?” By Tim, as it happens, and she loves him so she will do little more than smirk at the tiny squeak present in his voice as he rises “…Um, as in general?”

She smiles, just slightly, obediently jerks her wrists to test the restraints even if he isn’t getting on with it, “as in actually having them. Do you agree to the safeword?”

“Because in general kids are great, fine, wonderful little devils who will happily…” He pauses, frowns down at her as she obediently moves on to testing her ankles (even if he’s still not getting on with it – tch, Tims), “Erm, didn’t expect you to answer that so quickly.”

“Didn’t you?” She asks sweetly, leaning back in the chair and getting her back into a comfortable position, “Safeword, Tim.”

“No, I expected a bit more hesitation.”

“Why? Safeword.””

“Because it would’ve been nice… And, yes, it’s a very safe safeword.”

“Not really, but I’ll allow it. Would it have given you time to think?”

“Or run.”

She laughs, because the idea of Tim sprinting down the street from her saucepan carrying form (or mammoth riding form, she’ll have to see about that) will always be brilliant, attempts to spread her knees a little wider and smiles at the amount of give, “still worried that I’ll produce the antichrist?”

“…Pretty sure we never discussed that.”

“We sort of did.”

“Pretty sure we didn’t.”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“…No I don’t.”

“No, but Marcus talks when he’s awake,” she smiles up at him, he looks down at her with a rather fond kind of utter despair, “it’s actually rather flattering, really, I don’t think that my womb is quite ready to produce the starter of the apocalypse yet – but give it a few more years to warm up and I’m pretty sure that your faith in me will be richly rewarded.”

“…Chris.”

“At least we could take it as an excuse to rewatch the Omen?”

“…You are aware that the sort-of-mother gets killed in that, right?”

She snorts, a little bored, spreads her knees wider and arches her chest in a clear invitation, “I’d like to see some demon nanny try it with me.”

“…Fair enough, you would kill her.”

“Thank you.”

“Probably in a brutal way.”

“Thank you.”

He hesitates for a moment, a gratifying moment considering that he’s being sensible and appreciating her wonderful breasts with his lustful eyes, takes a step closer until he’s actually standing between her welcoming legs “…Chris?”

“Mm?” She says, attempting to wriggle a lot closer to him and failing.

“Would you… Actually mind getting pregnant, having children and then raising those children to be vaguely normal people?”

She considers for a moment, is practiced enough to ignore his hand ghosting just above her thigh in a manner that would be distracting to any weaker sort “…My boobs would get bigger.”

He sends her another fond look of desperation, starts to slowly raise his hand until it’s hovering just over her breast, “is that your only comment?”

She beams up at him, trusts that it’s one of those beams that says everything (for they appear to have developed that weird coupely-type telepathy thing, and one day she is going to use it to discuss a coup at work with nobody being the wiser), “yes.”

And he smiles down at her for a second, so honestly loving that she half wants to hit him in the face with a custard pie just to break the tension…

But all is soon forgiven, as his smile turns a little more determined and he leans in with a wonderfully strident, “right.”

UNPROMPTED: Sitting Sunday, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/5]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-09 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
The kiss is long and deep and he breaks it only with a gasp, pulling back to try and get some air into his lungs (lightweight… Ignoring her own pants, thank you very much) and very studiously not touching her the slightest bit.

…Mm.

This should be interesting.

Well?” She asks him innocently, looking up at him through her eyelashes – aware that it is a pose that either makes her look helplessly beguiling or rather like a rabid dog.

He only stares at her for a long moment, eyes gone slightly dark (and she does love it when they do that).

And then lifts one of his hands from his side, slips his fingers into her mouth and waits for her to eagerly wet them with a certain glitter in his eyes.

Mm…

When he trails those fingers, lovely and wet and making her close her eyes against them, away from her mouth and down her throat she can’t quite help the gasp from bursting free – can only let it echo loud at his own shaky breath in reply.

He traces patterns on her collarbone for a moment, so softly that she can barely feel it.

And then, just as quickly as she loves, he drops to his knees – brings his other hand from his side to join the first one. Trailing down until he can cup her arched forward breasts, holding them for a happy second as her breath echoes ever so loudly yet again (and she might have a hand in that, she’ll happily admit).

She barely holds back a groan as he strokes his thumbs over her nipple, doesn’t even bother as he daringly leans forwards to pinch them and make stars explode behind her eyelids.

“Is this alright?” He still asks politely, but with a touch of a smirk on his face, as he rolls them between his fingertips.

“Christ, Tim…”

Ah, and that honest smirk is brilliant - as he gives her nipples one final roll and then sets them free. Continues to trail down her stomach, maybe quivering and straining a little towards his touch, in a way so light that her eyes have to fall shut yet again.

When he finally, teasingly, rubs his hands over her hipbones she may let a swearword hiss out underneath her breath – is sadly unrewarded as he only smirks up at her yet again and trails his fingers down her thighs, “everything alright?”

Ah-“ she can only whisper, as his fingers reach her knees and stroke there for several long and very distracting moments.

“Thought so” …And he is obviously, and maybe a little wonderfully, enjoying this – as he moves on and downwards. Trailing over the barely there muscles of her calves before reaching her feet and rubbing there in slow, impossibly arousing movements.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily depending upon how the spine turning into jelly is perceived, he doesn’t spend long there – is soon moving up again, except this time taking the route of her inner leg. Up over her inner calves, tickling just slightly and making her squirm against her bonds. Briefly pausing at her knees again, rubbing there and drawing some faintly embarrassing breathy noises as he does. Onwards across her inner thighs, caressing the sensitive skin there and making her tense in anticipation…

And she doesn’t have to wait for long.

He slides his fingers, and she loves his fingers, in between her legs. Caresses the sensitive skin there for long, happy moments as she shudders back in her seat. Rubs there so sweetly that she can’t help but let a rumbling groan fall from her just slightly helpless mouth. Slides them up and down in such a wonderful way that she thinks she could never love him more…

And then he slips one in, and twists.

And, okay, as she yelps his name she supposes that her heart could probably expand a bit from it’s cold, blackened state – it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship, after all…

UNPROMPTED: Tuesday Mounting, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-10 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
“Chris!”

“What?”

“Condom, Chris, Condom!”

She shifts on his lap, gives him the utterly incredulous look that only an utter nutter can give “…Tim.”

Chris!”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Chris-“

“No, really, did I forget?”

“Chris-!”

Answer me, Tim.”

“…Yes, I assume.”

“Oh,” she considers this point, this very sensible and very terrifying point, for a moment – simply beams and continues rolling her hips.

…Which feels nice, he will give her that.

But not nice enough, two days after the discussion about having children (while tied to a chair, he’s pretty sure that these discussions used to be conducted in more neutral places but he can’t really remember), to distract him from panicking just a little about this situation, “Chris-“

“Tim?”

…And, okay, her innocent eyebrow raise does remind him that he wouldn’t actually mind having more kids all that much. Even if they were the antichrist, even if they did bring about the end of the world in an entirely firey way, even if they did end up ruling the universe with a crown of bones.

He just feels that this deserves a bit of clarification, that’s all, “what did you forget to tell me?”

She blinks at him innocently for a moment, still rolling her hips.

“…Don’t make me say your name again.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s starting to lose meaning as a word.”

“Is not.”

“It really is.”

“My name is lovely.”

“…Do you want me to call you Christina?”

She considers this spectre for a second, a cruel one but it is slightly deserved, and briefly stills her thrusts while doing so “…No.”

“So?”

“…Well.”

He glares up at her, even as he braces her back – he’s never been that good at ordering with his eyes, but he sincerely hopes that it gets all sincere (eh, he’s never been an English student) threats across.

“The thing I forgot…”

He tries to make his glare intensify.

“…Alright, I went on the pill a few weeks ago. There’s very little risk of imminent babies, honest!”

…And now he’s staring up at her.

“Really honest!”

Staring.

“…As far as you can say such things.”

Staring…

UNPROMPTED: Tuesday Mounting, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-10 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
And, well, he might as well move on from the quite justified staring into bigger and better areas. Might as well turn them instead, ignoring her yelp (because she isn’t properly protesting and she may deserve it), until she’s lying on her back and he’s almost slipped out from between her thighs.

Tim…” She gasps, when she finally gets her breath back from the toss.

And he won’t tell her to shut up, because that wouldn’t work, and he also won’t try and glare her into submission, because that also has about as much chance of working as his boss becoming sane within the next few days – but he will slam into her with a rather speedy thrust, and feel her clench around him and her nails at his shoulders with some pleasure.

“Tim-“ she groans beneath him, arching up so that her legs can wrap around his hips.

Right.

He thrusts as speedily and thoroughly as he can, makes her come twice before he comes himself and then makes her come a third time (trembling and actually whimpering his name) with a rather proud flick of his tongue. Allows her to slump happily afterwards, boneless and panting and with a big smile on her face, only because Philip should be bringing Marcus back within the next half hour and he wants them at least vaguely recovered.

…Which she isn’t, not really, by the time that Marcus gets back.

And isn’t, not really, by the time that they’re eating dinner.

And isn’t, not really, even by the time that they’re watching TV afterwards with her languidly nuzzled into his shoulder and Marcus casting them wide-eyed looks every so often.

…It’s a bit weird.

But he can deal with it, in the end, as she finally rouses just before bed and drags him into the shower for a rather wet session. And can deal with it, in the end, as she enthusiastically insists on him making her come again before they sleep and another two times the morning after that (“It’ll annoy the people at work,” she purrs happily, hair fluffed around her head and long limbs sprawled across every inch of space that she can find.)

…And almost appreciate the surprise, which is an odd thing that he was never expecting in a million years. A billion years. A trillion years – even after she jumps on him after work the next day and commits herself to making him come exactly the same amount of times.

[Spy] Tim/Chris, car!sex

(Anonymous) 2011-11-11 11:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Come on, it has to happen.

[Spy] Tim/Chris, comfort!sex

(Anonymous) 2011-11-11 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
After the things that happened to poor Tim in that episode Chris finally sees that he needs cheering up. What better than all the bendy sex he can possibly manage?

UNPROMPTED: Who Gets Married on a Thursday?, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1A/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-12 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
…He’s standing in a church.

In a suit, with his tie hastily knotted and his hair all over the place and a priest staring at him in a slightly judgemental way. He’s never really met the priest before, perhaps briefly a few weeks ago when he randomly came back to find Chris having tea with the man – and he’s not even sure if this guy was the man, but he certainly looks prepared to do some pretty serious things. Judging by his robes, and the bible he’s clutching, and the way he’s standing at the front of a church.

…Oh, yes, he’s not even standing awkwardly at the back of the church. He’s standing at the front of a church.

With Marcus standing at his side and looking rather wearied by everything, and Justine standing at Marcus’ side and looking rather proud to be involved, and Caitlin standing behind both of them and looking fondly amused. He isn’t really sure when Caitlin and Chris met, possibly at a Christmas party when Chris bounced in dressed in a tiny skirt and almost got hired, but they certainly seem rather close now. Judging by the posh hat that Caitlin’s wearing, and the beaming smile, and the general demeanour of a rather unofficial maid of honour.

…Oh, yes, maid of honour. For he isn’t just standing at the front of a church with a random group of people. He’s apparently getting married with a random group of people too.

And Chris, and-

…And-

Just Chris, really.

Chris looking stunning, with her mad hair down and her train almost long enough to reach to the back of the church (“It’ll trip pedestrians”) and a beaming smile on her face like she’s actually the happiest she’s ever been.

Which is odd, really.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get married,” he confides in a quiet tone, and tries not to sound too awe-struck at her sheer beauty.

A hard task.

…An impossible task, as she turns towards him and beams so brightly that not even the sun could rival it, “marriages don’t really aid society these days, Tim.”

“Don’t they?”

Nah. The state gets no money, I think, and so no horrifically corrupt systems of government are supported and no bumbling buffoons get a warm feeling from our union,” she pauses for a second, happily laughs, “plus: I get to wear a horrifically inconvenient dress.”

“You’re enjoying that, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

UNPROMPTED: Who Gets Married on a Thursday?, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1B/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-12 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
“Excuse me,” Marcus interrupts them both, with a roll of his eyes that speaks clearly of a desire to just get on with things (and also a little of fondness, it’s odd how that’s grown as he’s headed into the cold years of adolescence), “but could we please stop the nauseating sentiments and get on with your second marriage?”

“Marcus-“

“It can’t end any worse than your first one, after all.”

“Marcus-!”

…And he would take more offence, he would. But Chris is smiling at him again, and he’s too busy being consumed by wordlessly soppy fondness to do anything but reach out to her and feel her fingers squeeze in return.

“Marcus does have a point,” Caitlin reminds gently, after a few moments of such treatment.

“I’m not sure that he does,” the priest interrupts before he can fully snap free of Chris’ hypnotic sway (not that he could, not that he would ever really want to), “this is most irregular-“

“Shut it, priesty.”

“I’ve only seen the young man once before!”

Shut it.”

“And I’m not quite sure if I want to marry an anarchist in my-“

“Priesty,” Chris smiles firmly, finally turning away from him and stealing Caitlin’s nickname while she’s at it, “The French revolution was directed not only at the incredibly idiotic aristocracy but also at changing the corrupt influence of the church in general politics, do you want that to happen again?”

“Chris,” he has to interrupt, groping vaguely forwards for her wrist as she glowers at the man, “Chris, that’s not helping our point…”

“Not really,” agrees the priest, looking a little terrified.

“Our point?” Chris smiles, looking back at him with so much fondness that his heart may melt a little.

…He stares wordlessly for only a moment.

“Come on, Tim,” is interrupted by a firm nudge in the ribs from Marcus, and a roll of his son’s eyes that really does say absolutely everything, “we all know your answer.”

“Marcus…”

Caitlin only smiles from the side.

…And, well, he thinks he knows why. As he steps forwards to stand besides Chris, takes both of her hands in his own and smiles at her a little shakily (even though this has to be better than the last time), “our point.”

And she beams.

“…Come on, then.”

And it’s not the most romantic ceremony, not by any means, but as she dips him in a kiss he still finds it the most perfect thing that he’s ever known.

Heck, even Marcus smiles!

[Spy] Chris/Tim, leather

(Anonymous) 2011-11-13 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
You know that leather jacket Tim was wearing in the last episode?

Yeah, Chris likes it. Chris likes it a LOT.

Re: [Spy] Chris/Tim, leather

(Anonymous) 2011-11-13 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Does he also like Tim being all bossy and takecharge? I BET HE DID.

[RPF] Edward Hogg/Simon Farnaby snuggles, crushes, playing with hair

(Anonymous) 2011-11-13 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
After a full day of running from fake bulls, eating crab, being covered in fake snow, and the like, Simon's kind of beat; luckily, Edward is there with much needed hugs and snuggles.

[Crossover -Armstrong and Miller/Bunny and the Bull] AU-ish Azlo/Bunny violence, smacking, hate sex

(Anonymous) 2011-11-13 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)
While looking for evidence of his rival operatives, Azlo finds Bunny's nearly dead body near some evidence.

Convinced Bunny is the enemy agent he must track, Azlo has Bunny dragged off and give medical treatment.

Once Bunny is awake Azlo uses his best interrogation techniques on a confused and angry Bunny.

Cue them arguing while Azlo drags Bunny across Europe trying to make Bunny crack; Bunny just acts belligerent.

Emotions fly and they have violent hate sex, but continue to travel across Europe.

As time passes they might just start to care for each other.

Has hate sex evolved into a relationship?

UNPROMPTED: Happy Saturday, Female!Chris/Tim, PG-13 [1/3] [Spy]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-15 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
She’s a bit nervous about this.

Which is odd, really, because she’s never nervous about much – she treated the realization of her deep and passionate love for Tim with some timidity, yes, and was maybe the slightest bit nervous when she realized that this was going to be a long term thing and did get a few butterflies the day before their wedding… But apart from that?

Nope, nothing.

Not even when she decided to lose her virginity (and what a disappointment that was), not even when she went to university (also a bit of a disappointment – though with nice medical students), not even when she brought her own house (disappointment central, until she realized the many positives of her stairs) – nervousness has never really been a part of her life, never really been a lurking figure at the door, never really seethed in her stomach for endless nights as she coiled in a helpless pile of loathing-

…And now she’s babbling.

Great.

Tim finishes his third cup (as ever, the dear morning loathing boy) as she just plays with her cereal. Gives her a bright smile as he rises to his feet and tucks his jacket around him “…It really is a bother having to go into work on a Saturday.”

“Oh well,” she says, and her tone is falsely bright – and still a little bit babbly, “you did take Monday off.”

“And Tuesday.”

“And Wednesday.”

“And almost Thursday, thanks to that sex marathon that you dragged me into,” he smiles fondly, leans over and presses a peck against her lips as she… Continues to play with her cereal like a cool person, yes, “I’ll try to get back early, alright?”

“Alright.”

“…For more sex?”

“If you want.”

…And he frowns at her. For, in all the four years of their relationship and steadily counting as long as time ticks on, she has never sounded so unenthusiastic about sex.

But, eventually and at the prompting of her high-speed nod and smile, he beams again and turns on his heel – waltzing for the front door in the happy, bouncy way of a man largely content with his life now that it’s stopped regularly punching him in the face and has occasionally started handing him breast shaped pies.

…And she hates to start the punching again, she really does.

But she can’t just let him go on unknowingly until the nine months are up – for she’s a cruel and happy bitch, but she’s not that terribly horrible.

“Tim!”

UNPROMPTED: Happy Saturday, Female!Chris/Tim, PG-13 [2/3] [Spy]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-15 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
He’s paused by the door, as she jogs gently out of the kitchen, turning around to face her with a faint frown on his face and his hand on the doorknob (and she would make a joke, but she’s pretty sure that it wouldn’t help the situation), “Chris?”

“…Tim,” well, that was intelligent.

“Chris,” and terribly good at assuaging worry, as he turns fully away from the door and starts properly frowning – that adorable forehead-crinkly thing that he only gives when something actually insane is going on and he actually has reason to be nervous about it, “are you alright?”

“…Sort of.”

“I know I asked this morning, when I came down to find that you’d built a tower out of all the cereal, but…”

“I’m alright,” she gulps, licks her lips – for she is alright, really alright. Apart from every single bit of her being consumed with feelings that have never been felt before (because she isn’t a nervous person, really – or wasn’t before late last night and nearly falling into the shower in shock) “…Well, pretty alright. Depending on your definition of alright. If I was married to the heir to the British throne he’d probably be pretty pleased.”

“…William?”

“Descended from Charles II, don’t you know?”

“…No,” and she is so good at assuaging worry. As he stares at her, and frowns at her – and guides her slowly over to the stairs like she’s being all babbly again, “Chris, you aren’t alright.”

“Charming,” she manages, just resisting the urge to just sink down and let the feelings overtake her (she didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall).

“Yes, fine. Tell me what’s wrong?”

(…She didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall.)

(She didn’t do it in the bathroom, she won’t trouble the hall.)

…She can do this.

She can do this.

“Tim” …She can probably do this.

“Chris?”

…Now or never. Or now or in about nine months, when the little brat comes popping out and scares everybody else to death.

“So,” which would be a bad option, really, for as much as she trusts her hips she would prefer to have a lot of drugs when pushing a watermelon out of her vagina, “about a month and a half ago I must’ve missed a pill. Last night, in a foolish and charming way, I took a pregnancy test to confirm this.”

He stares at her.

“…We’re having a baby.”

He stares at her.

“…Have fun at work!”

Stares-

UNPROMPTED: January Catsuits, female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-16 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[A/N: chronology wise this is set in between Monday Moving (http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=2032404#t2032404) and The Wednesday Sixty-Niner (http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=2042644#t2042644). Also at New Years. :DD

--

The catsuit clings to her every curve, revealing more than it hides and he knows that she probably intended it to be like that – this is Chris, after all. Chris the impossibly curvy, always against society, ‘appreciate my boobs now’ demanding creature who will always be as impossible as she can be for the fun of it.

It can be maddening, at times.

It can be brilliant, as she finally arches an inviting eyebrow at him halfway through the party – and is lifted up against the wall of a supply closet a few minutes later.

“We have to be quiet,” he warns, feeling her heels dig into his lower thighs and shuddering at it, “the party is still going on outside-”

She rolls her eyes, immediately opens her mouth as wide as possible-

Chris,” is undone by her body being firmly braced back against the wall, hah, as he can quickly free a hand and clap it over her mouth – keep it there until she realizes that licking him no longer works (and why should it, after so many amazing blow-jobs?) “Please?”

“Mmmph,” she grumbles, sulkily against his palm.

“It’s only this once,” he says, trying to be terribly soothing in a way that probably fails so badly that Judith is cackling across town this very moment, “and I’ll make it good, I promise.”

“You better,” she sniffs, sulkily and still against his palm, and then seems to consider for a long moment – arching her head back against the wall so she can look down at him through her eyelashes “…You better be inventive, too.”

“Why?” He asks, innocently.

“I don’t think I can get out of this.”

…And that certainly makes things a little more difficult, yes, certainly almost makes this another incident of the universe punching him in the face and running off with a screeching cackle into the night – possibly to hug Philip and give Paula cats and wildly insult policeman while using his face.

And that is a deeply worrying train of thought, yes.

One that it’s probably best to avoid in the future in favour of other things. Such as awkwardly shifting them, and sliding around until his thigh is nudged between her legs and her knee is in pretty much the same position between his.

“Please don’t knee me,” he says, desperately hopeful as he tentatively leans up for a rather swaying kiss.

“I won’t,” she promises sincerely, settling herself comfortably against the wall and grasping at his shoulders (so tightly that he can feel the coldness of those leather gloves through his shirt, and does take a happy moment to shudder at it), “you wouldn’t be able to have sex for weeks. Where’s the fun in that for me?”

“Thank you for being so considerate.”

“You’re welcome.”

UNPROMPTED: January Catsuits, female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-16 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
…And he would sigh, in another position.

But for now he just settles for gently thrusting forwards instead, huffing a relieved breath as she keeps her promise (and he knew she would, he isn’t that mistrustful of her even if he does behave with caution around bondage gear) and carefully slides her knee forwards instead of shoving - creating a surprisingly nice rhythm that has him panting into her shoulder and bracing harder against the wall.

The hopefully supportive wall.

…The hopefully thick wall.

But, still, within a few seconds such reservations do rather tumble away – and he’s left smothering rather undignified grunts still into her shoulder, teeth digging into the leather there just as her fingers are still scratching lines into his shoulders.

And he wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy this so much, he will admit, and was planning to take her home afterwards and try not to drown them under the shower…

But, to his surprise, she seems just as into it – clutching at his shoulders with her head back against the wall, her breath hot against his cheekbone and little whimpers drifting up to his ears… And it’s definitely a surprise, he’ll admit, still more of a surprise when a slightly daring thrust makes him grasp at her thighs and draws a gasp from her throat.

He tilts his head slightly up at her, stares in slight (not too troubled) puzzlement. She only grins down at him and nudges her knee forwards again, “I do love leather…”

Oh.

Oh.

And she said that the costume was thick earlier, she really did, but she is Chris and it has led to this and he really doesn’t mind. Chris is like a hurricane: fast and mad and sometimes capable of destroying cars. To try and put her in a bottle would be sheer idiocy (and while he is often an idiot, he will admit, he isn’t that dumb).

…Especially when she’s trembling against him, faster and faster and with a few filthy words groaned against his cheek.

And especially when she moans, thighs tightening and eyes clenching shut as he awkwardly slips his hand in alongside his thigh and gently rubs his fingers in time with his thrusts.

And especially when she’s coming, yelping his name and bruising his shoulders as the gloves dig in and… Oh, he really hopes they can make use of that leather someday.

She flops back against the wall for a long moment, her body still trembling and her eyes still slightly closed.

He waits for a long moment. And then leans in for a kiss…

Only to be pushed back, quite suddenly and definitely blinking, and watch as she swiftly drops to her knees – sets to work on his belt with a determination that is both flattering and deeply, deeply arousing (he loves her when she’s determined, he won’t lie but he will admit that it’s mixed with a certain amount of terrified respect).

He softly pants her name, as her mouth curves around him with a clearly felt purr.

And, when he comes only a minute later with her fingers digging into his thighs and her mad hair all around him and her catsuit still looking absolutely perfect (even on the floor), he knows that he’s actually realized something vaguely sensible and close to sanity today.

Catsuits?

Are brilliant.

[Spy] Chris/Tim, lawyer!Chris

(Anonymous) 2011-11-19 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
Tim discovers that he has sudden ~desires~ for dressed up Chris. Chris is happy to indulge these.

[Spy] Chris/Tim, adult relationships

(Anonymous) 2011-11-19 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Tim's rant about being an adult and maintaining adult relationships strikes something within Chris. And makes him realize that maybe he wouldn't mind a relationship with a certain adult...

[Spy] Chris/Tim

(Anonymous) 2011-11-19 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
You know how Chris looks so nervous on the steps before he tells Tim about the custody ruling? Yeah, what if he told Tim something else instead? Something about how he feels.

...And then they have to go from there. :DDD

UNPROMPTED: Shut Up and Drive, Female!Chris/Tim, R

(Anonymous) 2011-11-21 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[A/N: Set in between Wednesday Evening and Gotta Get Down on Friday chronology wise. And it really does just keep breeding.]

--

The back of his car is narrow and pokey, but Chris doesn’t really seem to mind as she straddles his thighs with a grin – doesn’t seem to actually care a tiny bit as she leans in for an involved kiss after the very briefest glance around.

…Seriously.

Milliseconds at most.

“Chris,” he grumbles, and then yelps as she swiftly trails her fingers down his chest and starts undoing his belt at quite a fearsome speed, “Chris, we’re in public.”

“So?”

“Public, Chris, people possibly watching…”

“We’ve done it before.”

“I’d rather not remember that.”

“In the shop-“

“Rather not remember it, Chris. Thank you, bye!”

She blinks at him: a slow, sulky movement before she bends down and resumes undoing his jeans. This time he simply leans back and lets her. Tries to huff as she finally succeeds in undoing him and manages a rather complex slide to her knees.

“…It was fun.”

“No, it was not-!” She nuzzles at the base of his cock, he loses his sanity for a brief moment and only just manages to hurdle over the stuttering afterwards “…It was fairly fun, yes.”

“Mm,” she smirks, incredibly smugly all things considered.

“…But that does not mean-!”

And then makes him lose his sanity again, at a rather unfair pace, by ducking down. Getting her mouth around the head of his cock and twisting her tongue - despite the awkward position and the public place and the fact that he’s pretty sure that one of Marcus’ ‘projects’ died down there.

…It’s still good, though.

Still amazing, as he finds himself with his hands gripping in her curly hair and his head tilted right back against the seat, “Christ…”

“You keep adding that inconvenient ‘T’ in there” …Which apparently makes her draw back! With a rather worrying sound and eyes all a glitter (it makes her quite brilliantly attractive, he must admit with a rather soppy flutter of his heart, but that’s weird and so hopefully shall stay in his head for a while longer), “rather spoils the mood, actually.”

“Sorry,” he says, faintly and trying to resist the urge to tug at her hair.

“Bit rude.”

Sorry,” he says again… And then tries to adopt his most pleading expression, even if it does usually have the effect of making Chris get the ice cream out or decide that endurance trials will be fun or even go off and rent Die Hard from a movie place two hours away, “can you-?”

“Continue?”

“It’d be nice.”

“Mm…” She’s smirking, that cannot be a good sign – Chris usually only smirks when acts of great evil are being committed or incredibly stupid people have come into her hungry sights, “or we could do something else, if you’re amiable?”

“…Such as?”

“Penetration?”

“…Chris,” she flutters her eyelashes, he is still entirely unwilling to admit that they melt him a little every single (damn, the damn is important here) time, “we need a condom for that, and I didn’t-“

She holds up her hand, with a speed that quite astounds him, waves a condom right in front of his nose.

“…Okay.”

“Bit creepy?”

“A little.”

“Don’t worry,” she’s smirking, as she slowly lifts herself out of her coiled position and into his lap, “I’ll make it up to you… Probably, maybe in a few years at this rate – but probably is still probably-!”

“Chris.”

“…Ruining the mood?”

“Yep.”

“You sure?”

Pretty sure.”

“…Ah.”

He honestly doesn’t know why he’s dating her at-

Okay, and that’s a lie. It’s for the fabulous orgasms no matter where they may come, and the loudmouthed company that’s always amusing no matter how insane, and the constant insults that usually keep him humble, and the lovely hair, and the nice eyes, and the constant support, and that flutter in his chest every time she does something absolutely and utterly inappropriate, and-

…Ah.

He fears that he might be starting to become a bit soppy, oddly enough.

[Spy] Chris/Tim, biting leads to kissing

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
"Biting's excellent! It's like kissing, only there's a winner."

The quote is from Doctor Who (I know that for some people, saying this is stating the obvious somewhat), but you can take it however you want and as far (or not) as you want. I just want to see Chris biting Tim for no apparent reason, and the ways that he explains or doesn't explain why randomly biting your best friend can lead to randomly kissing your best friend for comparison purposes. :)

(I feel kinda sorry that this has basically become a mini Spy Meme instead of being an 'everything else' meme, but since there is no other Spy fic out there at all, I can't be completely sorry.)

Re: [Spy] Chris/Tim, biting leads to kissing

[identity profile] hhanon.livejournal.com 2011-11-27 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
I cannot lie and say that I am sad about the abundance of Spy fic, considering this way I can have ALL THE SPY FIC without setting up a separate meme. *walks off whistling innocently*

[RPF] Jim/Alexander Armstrong, Dom!Alexander

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)
https://twitter.com/#!/RealJimHowick/status/140819492262526976

...:D

Re: [RPF] Jim/Alexander Armstrong, Dom!Alexander

[identity profile] balinese-baby.livejournal.com 2011-12-01 07:09 am (UTC)(link)
Sounds good, I want this.

UNPROMPTED: The Business of Claiming, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-30 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
[A/N: Takes place just before Monday Moving, yes~.]

--

“Hi Paula!”

“Chris,” he says, in impossibly weary tones as Paula spins around and he drops the rubbish into the bin, “I thought you said that you were hibernating for the next few months.”

“Is she-?” Paula starts, bristling with all the indignation of the absolutely bonkers.

“I’ll start tomorrow, or Sunday – Sunday is a good day to start hibernating, I feel,” only to be interrupted by Chris, beaming brightly and with her hands on her mini-skirted hips as she steps forward into the light, “and no, Paula, I’m not coming between the epic romance of you two. You know why? Because it doesn’t exist.”

“Chris…”

He tries to drag her back, tries, but Paula has already bristled more – stepped forward herself with all the devotion of a cult member shining in her eyes, “I’ve seen you, you brazen hussy, trying to get between us-!”

“I am both a hussy and deeply brazen,” Chris purrs… And that cannot be good, that little roll of her hips and extra stamp of her high heels cannot possibly speak of healthy times ahead, “and proud of it too, Paula, so don’t you dare try to shame me over that – I am a woman, I have the right to express my sexuality in any way I choose, am I clear?”

“…Clear to me,” he has to say, revelling in her brief and bright smile.

“You-!” And Paula’s outrage, if he’s going to be honest.

“And a legitimate way of expressing my sexuality is sleeping with Tim in all the positions that I can possibly think of!” Her growing outrage, as Chris struts forward yet again until they’re practically nose to nose, “yes, that’s right – me, brazen hussy, sleeping with Tim, not at all your boyfriend, husband or lover. You know why? Because he’s mine.”

“Happily,” he has to input, yet again as Paula tries to turn to him pleadingly.

…And gawp, equally pleadingly.

“Mine, mine, Mine,” As Chris continues, smirking in a way that is hardly amused but that does manage absurdly determined, “not yours, never be yours no matter how much you stalk him or how many cats you buy. Because he is staying with me, and you don’t get to go anywhere near him.”

He arches his eyebrow, rather happily as Paula looks over.

“…She’s delusional, Tim, absolutely delusional! She thinks that she’s your girlfriend when obviously-!” Even as she starts to rant, arms flailing and eyes bulging so wide that she might need the attention of a doctor after this.

Or an ambulance, if Chris gets to her first, “Paula, shut it.”

She’s certainly spinning around, certainly moving rather quickly, with a certain amount of violence-!

To kiss him.

…Ah.

And obviously, despite being in the middle of a residential street in the dark of the night with his stalker looking creepily on, he has to respond – practically lifting her off her feet as he tilts his head and tightens his arms and feels her tongue moving so sweetly against his that he can barely breathe.

…When they finally draw back Paula is staring, oddly wordless.

“Mine,” Chris says smugly, still holding onto him with rather tight (almost cutting off circulation) arms, “shoo.”

He only smiles, holding on just as tight.

…As Paula takes a sullen step back with murder (like anybody could ever take Chris) in her eyes, and opens her mouth as if to say something, and then simply spins around on her heel and disappears into the night just as quickly as she popped out of nowhere ranting about a cat.

There’s a short pause.

“…Chris?”

“Mm?”

“Where would you like to shag tonight?”

“Well, the door was looking particularly nice earlier this evening…”

UNPROMPTED: The Business of Claiming, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/2]

(Anonymous) 2011-11-30 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
And so, a few minutes later, she ends up pressed back against the door – her long legs sliding over his hips as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

“We should move in together,” she muses absently on a brief break, as he’s busy sliding her underwear quickly down her legs, “not buy a cat or anything, though I like cats, but move in together. Then I could wait for Paula with a shotgun at the window and- ooh, there!”

He twists his fingers again, carefully, scrabbles at the side table for the condoms (all over the house now, he wonders what his relationship with Chris is doing to him), less than carefully, “Chris, stop talking.”

“I mean it!”

“And I’m happy with it,” he almost falls backwards, with her on top of him, but finally manages to grab the condom and brace himself instead – presses her back against the door as hard as he dares, “but Marcus would not be very impressed if I injured myself like this.”

…She only chuckles.

“What?”

“And you think I should stop talking…”

He halts her, with a slow grind up that only almost works (because it erases his own thoughts at the same time. Yeah, yeah – smart decision…), somehow manages to get his trousers and pants down in the pause. Miraculously manages to get the condom on after another helplessly distracting kiss.

…As such it’s almost a victory when he finally manages to slide up into her, with her thighs tensing around him and her gasps hot in his ear.

A definite victory when he finally starts to thrust, and she laughs breathlessly against him and starts clenching in time – leading to a rhythm so erratic but brilliant that he finds himself panting her name into her shoulder before he can quite stop himself.

Not that he wants to.

Not that he would ever want to, for he is hers, and is quite happy to prove it by making her come yelping against any door that she chooses. And following her over the edge in the very next moment, his own muscles shaking like anything. And-

…Well, actually falling backwards and ending up on the carpet with her giggling on top of him wasn’t really part of the plan. But it proves something! Something definite and marvellous and wonderful and-

He’s an idiot.

…But she’ll still giggle and kiss him and chase off scary stalkers, no matter how much of an idiot he chooses to be.

[RPF] Mat Baynton/Darren Boyd, John Cleese impressions

(Anonymous) 2011-12-05 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
Most of us have probably seen Holy Flying Circus - and Darren's eerily accurate portrayal of John Cleese. So let's have him doing impressions for Mat's entertainment. :D

[Spy] Chris/Tim, poetry

(Anonymous) 2011-12-05 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
So we know from episode four that Tim loves terrible poetry. And Chris is the sort of person whose poetry would terrible. Therefore we need Chris writing some terrible poetry for Tim. :'D

UNPROMPTED: Troublesome Phones, Female!Chris/Tim, R

(Anonymous) 2011-12-06 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
“Chris?”

Tim.”

“…Are you alright?”

“Tim-“

“Because I can probably come home early if you have a cold. I mean, if I tell the Examiner that I’m getting laid and then run while he’s torturing somebody else-“

“Tim!”

“…Sorry?”

“I’m naked.”

“…That’s nice.”

“…”

“…”

“You’re supposed to be aroused.”

“I’m at work!”

“And work doesn’t arouse you?”

“Surprisingly not!”

“Even after the catsuit incident?”

“…No comment.”

“And the desk sex?”

“No comment.”

“And the-“

“No comment, Chris!”

“…My breasts still remember that time.”

Lovely, but that does not mean that I’m going to have phone sex with you at work!”

“You could try?”

“I could not try-!”

“Imagine me like I was last night. On my back, in our bed – completely naked and with my head arched back as you leaned down and licked between my legs.”

“…”

“Tim?”

“Give me a second, I refuse to do this in public.”

“Hah!”

A few quick minutes, filled with the sounds of almost running and rather calm masturbation upon the bed.

“Alright.”

“Are you there?”

“No, I’m standing in front of Caitlin right now.”

“Well, she’s pretty.”

“Chris-“

“I wouldn’t mind a threesome…”

“Chris!”

“Okay, okay - fine. Are you still thinking of me last night?”

“It’s kind of hard not to.”

Excellent… Do you want to shift to thinking of me where I am currently?”

“Where…?”

“Naked, on the bed.”

“…Yes, I remember the nudity.”

“Hah!”

“Chris, we’ve been together for about three years. Of course I’m going to remember every time that you talk about nudity.”

“…Aw.”

“…You find that sweet?”

“Mildly. Now tell me where you are.”

“In a closet.”

“At work?”

“No, I ran into the next building over for this specific purpose…”

“Tim?”

“Yes?”

“Undo your trousers.”

A long pause, and then the slow sliding down of a fly.

“There?”

“You’re so obedient!”

“…Thanks.”

“I wonder what other orders you’d follow…”

“Another time, maybe, Chris?”

“Why?”

“…”

“Oh, standing with your cock out in a semi-public closet. Got you, got you… I’m stroking over my collarbone now.”

“That’s nice.”

“…Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and stroke yourself.”

“…Fine.”

“Are you doing it?”

“Very awkwardly!”

“Excellent! I’m now moving down to my breasts, rolling my nipple between my fingers. It’s getting hard, ever so hard.”

Ah.”

“…Did you just drop the phone?”

“…”

“Oh, right! Carrying on. I’m now moving over to my other breast…”

Ugh.”

“And doing the same thing there…”

“Chris…”

“Hold your horses, cowboy, I’m not done yet!”

“…”

“…Inappropriate?”

“Mildly.”

“Carrying on again! My fingers are now trailing over my stomach – smooth, fast. I’m imaging your fingers there instead, or your mouth like it was yesterday morning – so hot and lovely…”

A sharp intake of breath.

“And now I’m reaching my hips…”

A sharp groan.

“Still with that bite from-“

“…Really?”

“…Pardon?”

“You really still have that bite?”

“…Tim.”

“Is it-?”

Tim!”

“…Sorry. Carry on again?”

Thank you, I’m now trailing up my thighs…”

“Are those still bitten too?”

“For fuck’s sake, Tim!”

“…Sorry.”

“And now I am moving up to my vagina, and it is vaguely wet, and I am stroking my fingers along it, and that is alright, and-“

“Chris!”

What?”

“…I’m sorry?”

“…And now I’m gently stroking along my clit, thinking of your tongue doing exactly the same thing.”

Another heavy breath.

“And rubbing circles, thinking of your fingers right there…”

Another sharp breath.

“And gently dipping in…”

Another groan.

“…Tim?”

“Uh… Yes?”

“Did you honestly just come?”

“…Yes?”

“…”

“…Sorry?”

“You are going to be giving me all the head when you get home early, until I’m almost passing out from all the pleasure – are we entirely understood?”

“Chris…”

“I will cover everything you love in hot sauce and then let the ants in.”

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Good.”

“…Love you?”

“Love you too, you idiot.”

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