Whiplash
Fandom: Smosh
Pairing: Ian and Anthony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A day in the life of Smosh episode 5, with an interesting alternate twist.
Genre: Romance
The camera focused on the scruffy young man with a bowl haircut holding a plastic bag rolled up in his right hand. He swung the bag around as the other man filmed him.
“I bet Ian that he couldn’t whip me with the plastic bag and make it hurt,” came Anthony’s voice from behind the camera. “So let’s see.” He couldn’t help but smirk a little at the statement. The fact that he even got Ian to agree to do this was enough to make him wonder whether Ian wasn’t one to back down from a dare, or perhaps there were some other motives behind his agreement. Anthony wasn’t sure.
Anthony handed the camera to Ian, bringing the seated man with his arm out into view. Ian wasn’t someone who would back down from a challenge so what better way to show it than having an innocent little whipping contest with his best friend. He definitely wanted to make Anthony eat his own words.
Ian didn’t notice the small mischievous smile that crept up on Anthony’s face.
Heh. Too easy.
Ian held the camera in his free hand and delivered the first blow.
Anthony gave him a “is that all you got?” look.
Ian scoffed and delivered the second whip.
“Fail,” Anthony flatly said, disappointed.
“How’d it feel?” Ian asked, knowing he might have been going way too easy on him.
Anthony’s eyes stayed fixed on the camera and he held a smirk. “It felt like…” He paused to think of a good comeback.
“Let me try it again,” Ian interrupted.
“It felt like a paper bag was touching my arm,” Anthony finished in a slight mocking tone.
He noticed that got a slight reaction out of Ian, which caught him slightly off guard.
“You’ll feel it, bitch,” Ian mumbled back, twisting the bag into a tighter whip.
Anthony felt a quiver of excitement run through him.
“Ooooh,” he quavered seductively, but quickly caught himself before Ian could notice.
“Mass Murderer. Right here,” he said, zooming in on Ian’s face. Ian was rolling up the bag as tight as he could, completely distracted, much to Anthony’s relief.
Anthony watched as Ian was twisting and tightening the bag, his shining, bright blue eyes completely engrossed on the task at hand.
He looked down at his own crotch as he could feel himself getting hard. He ran his fingers over his developing bulge just a few seconds before Ian looked up, ready to go again.
“Alright,” Ian said, still completely oblivious of Anthony’s actions. He motioned for the camera, to which Anthony handed to him. It was time to take things to the next level.
Ian knew Anthony was pretty good at hiding things if it made him look tougher, but he knew with enough persistence he could break through his tough guy exterior, even if he was wearing a goofy looking Santa hat.
Also the almost seductively precarious look that screamed “come and get me, bitch” on Anthony’s face was really fucking hot.
Wait, what?
He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind and began to position the camera on the desk in front of him so they were both in view.
That was… kind of weird, Ian thought. He finished setting up the camera and drew closer to Anthony.
Anthony narrowed his eyes at him and whispered “Bring it Motherfucker, Yeah,” which brought an unexpected shiver down Ian’s spine.
Anthony took off his Christmas hat did his signature hair flip.
“Give me some pain!” He said in a low growl.
Ian began whipping his arm repeatedly, noticing how his arm jolted up after every strike and the smirk on Anthony’s face growing wider and wider.
“Nothing yet,” Anthony egged on. “Come on, put some muscle in it!”
It was working. Ian was getting really provoked at this point, his strikes getting rougher and more frequent.
Anthony watched as the sweat began to bead on Ian’s brow. His face was getting really flushed as his determination started getting a hold of him completely.
Anthony was basking in the look on Ian’s face and felt each hit as an electrified jolt of pleasure coursing through him down below his belt.
“How’s this?” Ian whipped again.
Anthony let out a soft grunt.
“Your mom did better last night, pussy,” he growled, unable to focus Ian’s face anymore, too overcome with pleasure.
“You little bitch,” Ian grumbled. “You’re gonna feel this one.”
“Not likely,” Anthony shot back with a smirk. There was something about the way Anthony gloated that made Ian feel a mixture of arousal and a persistence to make Anthony give in. It was new and exciting and he didn’t want to stop.
Ian’s arm flew faster and more forcefully than before.
“Ow, that hurt ‘cause you hit my bone,” Anthony admitted, causing Ian to smirk himself.
The growing look of determination was imminent on his face. Anthony’s arm was bright red now with hot red whip marks.
“Don’t think you’re winning though, my arm can still hold out,” he bragged, knowing just how to push his buttons.
Ian was now whipping with full blown persistence, feeling the heat of Anthony’s arm after every strike.
“You wouldn’t be saying that *whip* if I was whipping you somewhere else,” he heatedly replied, caught up in his own adrenalin.
“Oh you think so,” Anthony said rising up to the challenge, overtaken by the passionate fury in Ian’s voice as well.
He stood now mere inches from Ian’s face, daring him to do his worst.
Without a second thought Ian shoved Anthony onto his bed.
“Turn the fuck around,” he demanded.
Anthony did as he was told, his heart beating in his chest a mile a minute.
Before he could fully register what was happening he felt a smack on his ass, making him let out a very audible gasp.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that one, bitch, ‘cause I know you did!” Ian jeered with pride.
Ian smacked him again with the rolled up bag three more times, making Anthony wince with a very welcoming and pleasurable kind of pain. His erection was now pressing against the fabric of his boxers and jeans, pleading with him to be set free.
“Kind of,” Anthony lied through his teeth, his face flushed.
“It’s the pants.” Ian suddenly concluded with himself.
“W-what?” Anthony stammered, unsure of what he meant.
“They’re blocking the whip, or do you wanna be labeled a fucking cheater?” Ian asked hastily.
“Get rid of them!”
Anthony quickly unzipped and slid out of his pants, and through the corner of his eye he realized Ian had something noticeable about the front of his pants as well. Before he could react however he felt a hot smack against his backside much more intense than any of the others all day.
“Oh, fuck,” he unintentionally cried out, instantly reaching out and clutching Ian tightly by the shoulder.
“I knew you were lying, you bastard. I could see it,” Ian said in a low murmur.
Anthony pulled himself to Ian’s face and his eyes darkened with lust. They were both breathing hard with their eyes fixated with one another’s for what seemed like an eternity.
Anthony’s erection was pressed against Ian’s.
“Okay, I admit it,” his lips breathed on Ian’s, “I felt that one.”
Just as the words escaped Anthony’s lips, their mouths collided hungrily with one another’s in a deep kiss and they collapsed back on the bed. Anthony felt Ian’s hands moving through his hair and on his back before making their way to his chest. Anthony realized Ian still had the bag in his hand when he felt another smack on his backside, causing him to moan into the kiss.
They were nowhere near the view of the forgotten little camera, recording only the moans and occasional smack of pleasure with the view of an empty chair and a Santa hat.
“I pretty sure this means I won,” Ian panted between kisses.
“I guess you’ll want a reward, then,” Anthony said hotly, lowering himself to Ian’s crotch, unzipping his jeans.
~
“Well, we managed to come to some sort of agreement,” Ian said to the camera.
“Anthony on the other hand, likes to think he won.” He quickly zoomed to Anthony who was sitting back in the chair nodding with his hands behind his head, then back to his face.
“But the only thing that cunning bastard won this round…” Ian moved extremely close to the camera and whispered, “…was me.”
Pairing: Ian and Anthony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A day in the life of Smosh episode 5, with an interesting alternate twist.
Genre: Romance
The camera focused on the scruffy young man with a bowl haircut holding a plastic bag rolled up in his right hand. He swung the bag around as the other man filmed him.
“I bet Ian that he couldn’t whip me with the plastic bag and make it hurt,” came Anthony’s voice from behind the camera. “So let’s see.” He couldn’t help but smirk a little at the statement. The fact that he even got Ian to agree to do this was enough to make him wonder whether Ian wasn’t one to back down from a dare, or perhaps there were some other motives behind his agreement. Anthony wasn’t sure.
Anthony handed the camera to Ian, bringing the seated man with his arm out into view. Ian wasn’t someone who would back down from a challenge so what better way to show it than having an innocent little whipping contest with his best friend. He definitely wanted to make Anthony eat his own words.
Ian didn’t notice the small mischievous smile that crept up on Anthony’s face.
Heh. Too easy.
Ian held the camera in his free hand and delivered the first blow.
Anthony gave him a “is that all you got?” look.
Ian scoffed and delivered the second whip.
“Fail,” Anthony flatly said, disappointed.
“How’d it feel?” Ian asked, knowing he might have been going way too easy on him.
Anthony’s eyes stayed fixed on the camera and he held a smirk. “It felt like…” He paused to think of a good comeback.
“Let me try it again,” Ian interrupted.
“It felt like a paper bag was touching my arm,” Anthony finished in a slight mocking tone.
He noticed that got a slight reaction out of Ian, which caught him slightly off guard.
“You’ll feel it, bitch,” Ian mumbled back, twisting the bag into a tighter whip.
Anthony felt a quiver of excitement run through him.
“Ooooh,” he quavered seductively, but quickly caught himself before Ian could notice.
“Mass Murderer. Right here,” he said, zooming in on Ian’s face. Ian was rolling up the bag as tight as he could, completely distracted, much to Anthony’s relief.
Anthony watched as Ian was twisting and tightening the bag, his shining, bright blue eyes completely engrossed on the task at hand.
He looked down at his own crotch as he could feel himself getting hard. He ran his fingers over his developing bulge just a few seconds before Ian looked up, ready to go again.
“Alright,” Ian said, still completely oblivious of Anthony’s actions. He motioned for the camera, to which Anthony handed to him. It was time to take things to the next level.
Ian knew Anthony was pretty good at hiding things if it made him look tougher, but he knew with enough persistence he could break through his tough guy exterior, even if he was wearing a goofy looking Santa hat.
Also the almost seductively precarious look that screamed “come and get me, bitch” on Anthony’s face was really fucking hot.
Wait, what?
He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind and began to position the camera on the desk in front of him so they were both in view.
That was… kind of weird, Ian thought. He finished setting up the camera and drew closer to Anthony.
Anthony narrowed his eyes at him and whispered “Bring it Motherfucker, Yeah,” which brought an unexpected shiver down Ian’s spine.
Anthony took off his Christmas hat did his signature hair flip.
“Give me some pain!” He said in a low growl.
Ian began whipping his arm repeatedly, noticing how his arm jolted up after every strike and the smirk on Anthony’s face growing wider and wider.
“Nothing yet,” Anthony egged on. “Come on, put some muscle in it!”
It was working. Ian was getting really provoked at this point, his strikes getting rougher and more frequent.
Anthony watched as the sweat began to bead on Ian’s brow. His face was getting really flushed as his determination started getting a hold of him completely.
Anthony was basking in the look on Ian’s face and felt each hit as an electrified jolt of pleasure coursing through him down below his belt.
“How’s this?” Ian whipped again.
Anthony let out a soft grunt.
“Your mom did better last night, pussy,” he growled, unable to focus Ian’s face anymore, too overcome with pleasure.
“You little bitch,” Ian grumbled. “You’re gonna feel this one.”
“Not likely,” Anthony shot back with a smirk. There was something about the way Anthony gloated that made Ian feel a mixture of arousal and a persistence to make Anthony give in. It was new and exciting and he didn’t want to stop.
Ian’s arm flew faster and more forcefully than before.
“Ow, that hurt ‘cause you hit my bone,” Anthony admitted, causing Ian to smirk himself.
The growing look of determination was imminent on his face. Anthony’s arm was bright red now with hot red whip marks.
“Don’t think you’re winning though, my arm can still hold out,” he bragged, knowing just how to push his buttons.
Ian was now whipping with full blown persistence, feeling the heat of Anthony’s arm after every strike.
“You wouldn’t be saying that *whip* if I was whipping you somewhere else,” he heatedly replied, caught up in his own adrenalin.
“Oh you think so,” Anthony said rising up to the challenge, overtaken by the passionate fury in Ian’s voice as well.
He stood now mere inches from Ian’s face, daring him to do his worst.
Without a second thought Ian shoved Anthony onto his bed.
“Turn the fuck around,” he demanded.
Anthony did as he was told, his heart beating in his chest a mile a minute.
Before he could fully register what was happening he felt a smack on his ass, making him let out a very audible gasp.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that one, bitch, ‘cause I know you did!” Ian jeered with pride.
Ian smacked him again with the rolled up bag three more times, making Anthony wince with a very welcoming and pleasurable kind of pain. His erection was now pressing against the fabric of his boxers and jeans, pleading with him to be set free.
“Kind of,” Anthony lied through his teeth, his face flushed.
“It’s the pants.” Ian suddenly concluded with himself.
“W-what?” Anthony stammered, unsure of what he meant.
“They’re blocking the whip, or do you wanna be labeled a fucking cheater?” Ian asked hastily.
“Get rid of them!”
Anthony quickly unzipped and slid out of his pants, and through the corner of his eye he realized Ian had something noticeable about the front of his pants as well. Before he could react however he felt a hot smack against his backside much more intense than any of the others all day.
“Oh, fuck,” he unintentionally cried out, instantly reaching out and clutching Ian tightly by the shoulder.
“I knew you were lying, you bastard. I could see it,” Ian said in a low murmur.
Anthony pulled himself to Ian’s face and his eyes darkened with lust. They were both breathing hard with their eyes fixated with one another’s for what seemed like an eternity.
Anthony’s erection was pressed against Ian’s.
“Okay, I admit it,” his lips breathed on Ian’s, “I felt that one.”
Just as the words escaped Anthony’s lips, their mouths collided hungrily with one another’s in a deep kiss and they collapsed back on the bed. Anthony felt Ian’s hands moving through his hair and on his back before making their way to his chest. Anthony realized Ian still had the bag in his hand when he felt another smack on his backside, causing him to moan into the kiss.
They were nowhere near the view of the forgotten little camera, recording only the moans and occasional smack of pleasure with the view of an empty chair and a Santa hat.
“I pretty sure this means I won,” Ian panted between kisses.
“I guess you’ll want a reward, then,” Anthony said hotly, lowering himself to Ian’s crotch, unzipping his jeans.
~
“Well, we managed to come to some sort of agreement,” Ian said to the camera.
“Anthony on the other hand, likes to think he won.” He quickly zoomed to Anthony who was sitting back in the chair nodding with his hands behind his head, then back to his face.
“But the only thing that cunning bastard won this round…” Ian moved extremely close to the camera and whispered, “…was me.”