Title: Of Course
Author: NemesisOfMyself on LJ
Fandom: Franklin and Bash RPS
Pairing: Mark-Paul Gosselaar/Breckin Meyer
Rating: MMMMM for toys and mentions of M/M sex
Word Count: 679 words
Summary: From yellowrose2167: hmmm...well, here's one that I think we haven't said yet(I may be wrong). Toys. Maybe like...MP forces Breckin to have a vibrator in while trying to shoot and horniness and messed up lines ensue, then afterwards we get some really hot sex where Breckin is kinda pissed at MP but just needs it SO BAD.
Anything in that general area would be nice. xD
Warnings: Mentions of M/M sex, toys, RPS
Notes: Written for a toys prompt over on the F&B kink meme. Many thanks to almosteatable for the editing job. I owe you one :D
Disclaimer: Not mine :'(
AN. Okay so I meant to post this AGES ago and..um..forgot *bashful* But it's here now! I hope you like :)
'I hate you. I really, really hate you.' Breckin bit out, face contorted into a grimace he was trying to hide behind his normal charming smile. Mark-Paul smiled, lips stretching into a grin when the director called for them to run through another scene. That meant getting to watch as Breckin limped forwards, unable to hide that particular movement – or the involuntary hissmoan he let out every time his left foot hit the ground.
Mark-Paul knew - just intrinsically knew - that each left step nudged the toy buried in Breckin's ass against his prostate. A chuckle escaped him when Breckin missed his cue, much too busy shifting the toy inside of him by pressing it against the desk he was so casually leaning against. A full out belly laugh threatening when Breckin flubbed his line for the fourth time, relishing in the glare he got in return. (Because this was Mark-Paul's fault.)
.
.
It had started with a bet. Of course, don't these things always start with a bet? Male pride and overinflated ego's mixing badly with the alcohol the two co-stars had consumed over the course of the night. They had a free weekend, having finished filming for the week – the producers giving them a break (Oh thank GOD) whilst they fiddled with the 9th episode of the series.
Breckin had started it so really he couldn't blame it entirely on Mark-Paul. They'd been casually discussing the rumour that supposed 'one take' porn was actually edited to make the 'actors' – and they used the term loosely – seemingly have better stamina. The argument had progressed, and neither could remember who took which side, but suddenly Breckin was announcing that both of them could last longer than a porn star. 'Or' he corrected himself, 'atleast I could.' Mark-Paul had, of course, risen to the challenge, and so began the epicness that was 69'ing with a stopwatch.
Breckin had lost. Obviously.
'Only because you cheated and started playing with my asshole.'
He had insisted and of course, Mark- Paul had told him that rules were rules and that they should get some sleep. Because come Monday, Breckin was walking on set with a dildo in his ass and he was going to enjoy it.
.
.
The day dragged for both of them. Mark-Paul desperate to get Breckin home, face his wrath and then thoroughly enjoy the quasi make-up sex that came after. Breckin just wanted the toy (that wasn't Mark-Paul cock) out and... well (Mark-Paul's cock) nothing inside of him. By the time they were let go for lunch – at half past 11 because the director was so sick and bloody tired of Breckin's inability to concentrate and just wanted him to sort it the fuck out right now Meyer or there'll be hell to pay.
Breckin had trudged off despondently, that little hissmoan still escaping on every other step despite his clenched teeth and utterly fed-up mood (This is all your fault, I hate you, I so hate you.) Cock still rock hard despite the shittyness that was the day so far.
Of course Mark-Paul took pity on him and pulled him into his dressing room to strip Breckin (desperate-for-my-cock) Meyer, slide the harsh plastic out of ass and replace it with his own aching dick. Of course, he waited 20 minutes for Breckin to get out of his sulk (and for his softening cock to recover) before he suckedhim into his waiting (OhmyGod so warmwetsilky FUCK) mouth.
And of course they never forgot the day their assistant walked in on Mark-Paul on his knees for Breckin - dildo in one hand, Breckin's hip in the other with a cock down his throat - and outed them to the whole production team.
To be honest that bet (motherfucking bet you mean) meant everything now. No more hiding. No more fucking in their lunch break or sneaky blowjobs in Franklin and Bash's 'office' either. But the 'no more hiding' (since they had been hiding their attraction and subsequent relationship since pretty much the day they met) made up for it all.