hhanon | What? They've acted in OTHER things?!

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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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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

SECONDED!

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

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)

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

I am such a happy OP right now, take your time author-nonny!

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.

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...)

seconded :D

Before I start - is there anything you really DON'T want the regular to be into, or anything you'd be especially keen on. Just like a list of yays and nays so I don't accidentally squick you or anything.

As long as it isn't focused on heterosexual relationship/sex I am fine with everything. Well except scat play. (is it called that?)

Otherwise I am fine with everything! (you are such a very kind nonny!)

Okay cool, and yeah scat. I had no intention of going there, but it's always better to be safe than sorry when checking these things.

And thank you! I'll attempt to have something done by the end of the weekend.

I have something written, I just need to give it a few extra polishes and then it should be up. :DDDD ~~And guess who this is...~~

“Are you sure about this?” Tim asks nervously, sitting on the end of the bed and watching him tug at the cuffs.

It’s rather sweet, really, they’ve been doing this for months now (he’s not sure how many months, partially because it’s an imposition of authority by their evil overlords and partially because he’s a lazy bastard) and yet Tim will still stutter and blush and ask for permission every single time. No matter if he’s already leaning up into the kiss or already nodding ferociously or even already spread out across the bed with all his clothes off and ‘TAKE ME NOW!’ Written across his chest in biro.

“Perfectly sure,” he soothes, settling himself firmly back against the headboard and beaming an incredibly bright smile up (down? Across since they’re technically at the same level with all the propping and sitting and hesitating?) At dearest Tim, “didn’t your boss tell you to have fun with these things, mate?”

The man, bless him and his entirely flailing soul, only hesitates for yet another moment – even as his fingers give that little twitch that just screams of the desire to paw at naked flesh, “I’m sure he didn’t mean like this…”

He has never met Tim’s boss, insane bastard that he sounds, but he knows enough to raise his eyebrow.

“…Okay, he probably did mean exactly like this,” and Tim sighs, finally starting to ease himself from his sitting garden (bottom of the bed, they’re basically the same) of contemplation and upwards – closer and closer to naked flesh with every twitch, “but I think that he’s actually mad so we can probably disregard him. Is the pressure alright? Do you want me to-?”

“Kiss me,” he tries breathily, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that probably looks irresistibly seductive.

“-Loosen them? Or get padded ones? Or a rope? Or maybe just-?” …Tim continues, at a fair and babbling speed even braced above him.

…Right.

He hooks his leg, unrestrained but he is slowly working up to it by creeping degrees of ‘tie me up with the bedsheets’ and ‘handcuffs would be nice’ and ‘maybe you could keep me locked up all day, I hardly need to go to work’, around the back of Tim’s braced thighs, tugs quite violently until the man fully loses his balance and tumbles over into his chest.

“Oof,” Tim says, slightly stunned.

He snorts fondly, bats his eyelashes in that impossibly seductive way the moment that Tim gets around to looking up at him in the manner of a kicked puppy (…Bit disturbing there, but he can work past that), “kiss me.”

He, the obedient boy, slowly levers himself up on the elbows. Balances forwards for a long, deep and slightly grumpy kiss that has him arching up and smiling ever so smugly.

“Now,” he beams, the moment that Tim draws back for breath (the poor man has the lung capacity of an asthmatic hamster, he swears), “make me scream.”

…It gets him a look, “aren’t you the one tied up here?”

“Yes,” he nods innocently, practically managing a halo around his head as he hooks that one long leg again, “but I’m topping from the bottom, just as I do at work and in society in general.”

…It gets him another look.

But then Tim slowly, still grumpily, lowers his head to the side of his bare neck and bites at the most sensitive spot. Slowly trailing his tongue across the reddened flesh before digging his quite wonderful teeth right back in.

And they’re finally cooking!

He lets out a low, already faintly whimpering, noise of encouragement. Arches up his hips against Tim’s still clothed torso for a glorious bit of friction - is rewarded, for it can only be a reward, by a jerk of his wrists in the handcuffs and another little nip from Tim. Which is certainly so much better than any of the commendations he’s ever received at work.

His neck is lavished for another moment, he lets out an actual whimper at that, before Tim quickly leans up to nip along his jaw and then drops - bracing himself harshly against the bed as he digs his teeth into an exposed collarbone and practically gnaws there.

“Tim,” he breathes, hands fisting as much as they can, “Tim…”

“Is that-?” …And the man, like the smartest creature on the planet, draws back just a little to worry.

Screw that, he tightens his thighs and glares.

And Tim, actually reasonably smart if nowhere near as brainy as him, takes the hint with a soft grumble and leans back in – nibbling roughly at the flesh for another moment before trailing down and down and…

He lets out a long, and studiously wavering, whine when Tim’s mouth closes firmly around a nipple. And soon, for it must be lonely, lets out more to join it – Tim is very good when he actually sucks, and when he tightens his mouth and tilts his head and twists his tongue…

A quick switch to the other nipple leaves him babbling incoherently and desperately trying to draw in air. And then Tim, lovely Tim, is moving again in the most irresistible way.

He kisses down over his stomach, hot wet things that have him arching and feeling steadily heating metal again. Lingers over his navel for the moment, a bone-melting combination of tongue and teeth that draws a pleading cry out of his throat. Takes a sudden drop to kiss both of his thighs, so tenderly that he chokes on a yelp-

And then, because Tim will never be good at teasing no matter how hard he’s schooled in the noble art, he leans up and slides his mouth over the head of the hard and ready cock waiting for him.

…He hardly minds.

He may buck his hips and yell, as a matter of fact.

And Tim, lovely Tim, just braces an arm over him to try and keep him from any more attempts to horrifically (wonderfully, he knows that Tim loves it) suffocate with his cock, keeps sucking - hollowing his cheeks, flicking his tongue, taking him deeper and deeper as he cries out over and over again.

…Yells out.

Screams out.

And it isn’t really a surprise, when Tim slides his fingers up to gently caress his balls, when he comes at full strength with Tim’s name screaming from his lips.

…Ah.

That was rather nice, really.

Well, I didn't think you would, but as you said, better safe than sorry.

Yay! For the first time ever I am looking forward to the weekend to end!

lol, does this mean if I finish it sooner I should hold it back just make Monday more bearable? ;)

He opens his eyes, sated and happy, to see Tim sitting up and wiping a careful hand over his mouth, shakes his hands in his handcuffs (can’t shake them much, but enough to make a noise) to attract attention to his very important needs that really should be prioritized.

Tim, ever obedient Tim, simply rolls his eyes and slides up the bed again. Leaning in for yet another one of those deep kisses that this time tastes exactly like him.

“Mm,” he laughs, drawing back with his throat still scratchy then leaning cheekily in to press a peck against Tim’s nose, “wonderful… Now, want to shag before my arms drop off?”

…And immediately Tim is drawing back with wide eyes instead of taking the hint, tch! “Shag?”

“Make love, have sex, penetrate me in a pleasurable manner,” he provides, shifting his hands to make them a little bit more tempting (guys like the spread out virgin look, right?)

…Unfortunately his movement only seems to remind Tim of another point, tch! “Are your arms alright?”

“They’re fine.”

“Because we could probably-“

Honestly, a shag on offer here and all the man can do is complain (acceptable) and flail (expected) and not do anything despite the big black hole of pleasure waiting to pull him into its depths…

“Tim,” he interrupts, with about as much patience as a reasonably amiable (yeah, right) man can be expected to summon in this sort of situation, “get your clothes off, get the lube in the dresser and shag me right now or I won’t blow you while you’re watching cricket on a Sunday.”

A long pause.

“I don’t technically ask you to-“

“Tim.”

…Lovely Tim, again, as he immediately draws back even further for the express purpose of drawing his shirt over his head and undoing his belt.

“Lube,” he still reminds sharply, as Tim attempts to dive back in.

It earns him a grumble, yes, and another one of those tiresomely grumpy looks… But it also earns him the sight of Tim nakedly stomping over to the dresser! And nakedly getting the lube! And nakedly marching back with the lube in hand! And nakedly being naked!

He has to admit, this is one of his favourite states of Tim. With him leaning heavily on the bed, and sliding his knees up, and slowly pushing in a wonderfully cold finger that has another whine echoing out of his throat in a quite pleasing manner.

“Insatiable,” Tim complains, adding another finger and starting to stretch. And, honestly, if the man didn’t know that when he got passionately snogged in front of the customers to prove a point (and then responded by timidly asking him out for dinner half an hour later)…

He yelps, again, already half hard. Yanks his hands against the restraints and gives a pleased shudder at the feeling of metal against him.

A third finger added, probing deeper and deeper…

And then, finally (he’s an impatient sod, what can he say), he is ready. And Tim is slowly withdrawing and turning to himself – able to slick up within a minute without the numerous interruptions of a certain skinny, impatient sod attempting to clamber into his lap and kiss him and do a thousand other distracting things that leads to frantic grinding more often than not.

“I almost like you like this-“ Tim starts softly, twisting on the bed and wrapping his long legs around that rather lovely waist.

“Don’t apologize,” he still interrupts, attempting to lift his spine a little higher for even more leverage.

“I wasn’t going-!”

And then Tim is pushing in, right in the middle of a sentence like the lovely boy he’s slowly becoming, and he is screaming again. Suddenly fully hard, it’s a remarkable skill, and with arousal tingling all over the place and almost with blood on fire except not because that is actually impossible.

“Insatiable,” Tim interrupts his train of thought from above, looking a little dazed and sweaty himself now that he almost concentrates.

…Almost.

Considering that he’s far more concerned with a slow arch of his hips that makes Tim sink ever deeper.

But, then, that turns out absolutely fine - for he’s screaming again and Tim is letting out a breathless grunt of his own and they’re actually moving. Jerky, unsteady thrusts that have him tilting his head against his arm and yanking against his chains with every little push.

It is brilliant, perfect, wonderful, all the other positive words that you can imagine…

And so he can half forgive Tim for coming first, since he has been going for far longer. Slamming into him with one long, slow final thrust, a tense tremble of his arms and his name mixed with a swear word in a way that was just meant to happen.

He, being insatiable, doesn’t take that long to come either, after all – soon following with a sudden brush of his cock up against Tim’s steadily relaxing belly, a harsh squeeze shut of his eyes and a quite wonderful screech that will hopefully wake at least a few of the neighbours.

“Chris,” Tim is mouthing shakily into his throat, in between tender little kisses that make him smile even as his limbs reach a state that can only be described as ‘entirely like jelly’, “Christ, Chris, Christ…”

…Adorable, “stop trying to convert me this early in the morning, Tim.”

A little chuckle, an entirely sweet flutter of air across his chest that has another smile bursting free from the hidden vault where he keeps them guarded by evil ninjas riding upon dragons…

And then Tim is sitting up, with a blurted “your circulation!”, and undoing him and really. Sometimes he does have to wonder about the man in between the amazing orgasms and the spying and the stolen handcuffs chaining him so wonderfully to various beds.

... no. Please no. Post as soon as it's finished, please? I need it. I need it. Pretty please? (no pressure on when you finish it though, just don't let me wait!)

It's okay, you can relax. I'll post it the moment it's done and read, because I have a tendency to miss out key words when typing stuff, which is always handy.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Your Chris voice is amazing, your characterisation of Tim is amazing, and OH MY FUCKING GOD THE BONDAGE *flails a lot and melts into a contented little puddle*

“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?”

“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!”

…And sitting in only her bra and her very short skirt, right on his lap.

She has, he notes absently, rather nice breasts-

A rather nice bra! A rather nice bra and he’s already snapping his gaze up, already flailing again because he now has absolutely nowhere to place his hands that isn’t soft and warm and remarkably bare, “Chris!”

…Is already smirking in her smuggest way, much is his luck, “I saw you looking.”

“I was not looking.”

“You were looking.”

“I was admiring the workmanship” …Oh God, no wonder his wife left him, his son hates him and everybody he happens to meet immediately considers him a bumbling fool. He half wants to lean forwards and bury his head firmly in-

No!

“My parents did make me well, I must admit,” Chris purrs as he continues to reel in horror, still wearing her very smuggest tone (and little else, which is not helping), “would you like to see how well?”

“…That is the least sexy chat-up line ever.”

“It’s worked before.”

“And furthermore,” he continues, very firmly ignoring that for Chris’ dating life is the kind of story that can only lead to horrified nightmares and loud protestations of ‘but why did she date the guy who could juggle beavers?’, “What would your parents think?”

“They’d probably be pleased that you didn’t make me dress up as various animals.”

“What would Judith think?”

“At least it’d prove that you weren’t skulking around her house sniffing desperately at her left behind underwear.”

“…What would Marcus think?”

“Who cares about what Marcus thinks?” And Chris, taking slight advantage of his still rather addled state of mind, leans forwards – lowers her eyelashes and attempts to look as seductive as she possibly can, “just kiss me, big boy.”

…And he supposes that it says a lot for his levels of panic that he instinctively obeys that instruction.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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What? They've acted in OTHER things?!

[Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

Re: [Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

[RPF] Lawry/John Finnemore

[Horne & Corden] Mat!Nathan/Other

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

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

[RPF] Mat Baynton/Darren Boyd, cuddling

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

Re: [RPF] Lawry/John Finnemore

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

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

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

Re: [Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

FILL: Appropriate Usage, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/3]

FILL: Appropriate Usage, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/3]

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

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

FILL: Appropriate Usage, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [3A/3]

FILL: Appropriate Usage, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [3B/3]

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

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

Re: FILL: Appropriate Usage, Chris/Tim, NC-17 [3B/3]

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

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

UNPROMPTED: One Saturday Afternoon, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [3/6] [Spy]