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 | Flat

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.

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)

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...)

“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?”

They take turns pretending to be Dobby.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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!!

[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.

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.

“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.”

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…

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.

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.

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.

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

“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.

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.

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.”

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 3

[Spy] Chris/Tim, bondage

[RPF] Lawry/John Finnemore

[Horne & Corden] Mat!Nathan/Other

[RPF] Mat Baynton/Darren Boyd, cuddling

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

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

[Peep Show] Mark/Gerard, roleplay

[Spy] Chris/Tim, wallsex

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

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

O2 Faun!Jim and Mr. Tumnus from Narnia.

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

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

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

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

Chris/Tim, parenting

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

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

Chris/Tim/Caitlin, Spy

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

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

Chris/Tim, Halloween.

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

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

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