(no subject)
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: John Barrowman/Eve Myles (But really sorta NOT)
Summary: Boobs of mass destruction. Sorta crack.
She was wriggling against his thigh. She was wriggling against this thigh.
"Hey!" He let out small grunt as he tried to buck her off. "When I asked for your help I didn't exactly mean this."
"John," Eve said gravely, "shut up."
"This is so weird. Why do guys do this?"
"You're the one that auditioned for the part of a straight guy, John. No pain, no gain."
He whined. He didn't think he'd actually get the part. Who was smoking crack when they hired him as the straight guy?!
"I miss cock," he stated morosely.
"Quit your bitchin'." Eve's hands ensnared his wrists and pressed his hands to cup her chest. "Look. Boobs."
She spoke slowly, like teaching a child. "Grip gently. Slowly, yes, like -- no, no! Oh God, no! Don't ever do that again. They're not a fucking steering wheel!"
John twisted his hands again, grinning delightedly. "Beep beep."
Her smack ringed in his ears. Ow. Seriously, why did guys do this? Her crotch rubbed against his leg again, sending none of the usual sparks it gave him when Scott did this. A thought popped into his head.
"Hey, Scott's gonna beat you up."
"Scott couldn't beat his way out of a paper bag. Just sit back and think of Brad Pitt."
Okay. John could work with that.
Pairing: John Barrowman/Eve Myles (But really sorta NOT)
Summary: Boobs of mass destruction. Sorta crack.
She was wriggling against his thigh. She was wriggling against this thigh.
"Hey!" He let out small grunt as he tried to buck her off. "When I asked for your help I didn't exactly mean this."
"John," Eve said gravely, "shut up."
"This is so weird. Why do guys do this?"
"You're the one that auditioned for the part of a straight guy, John. No pain, no gain."
He whined. He didn't think he'd actually get the part. Who was smoking crack when they hired him as the straight guy?!
"I miss cock," he stated morosely.
"Quit your bitchin'." Eve's hands ensnared his wrists and pressed his hands to cup her chest. "Look. Boobs."
She spoke slowly, like teaching a child. "Grip gently. Slowly, yes, like -- no, no! Oh God, no! Don't ever do that again. They're not a fucking steering wheel!"
John twisted his hands again, grinning delightedly. "Beep beep."
Her smack ringed in his ears. Ow. Seriously, why did guys do this? Her crotch rubbed against his leg again, sending none of the usual sparks it gave him when Scott did this. A thought popped into his head.
"Hey, Scott's gonna beat you up."
"Scott couldn't beat his way out of a paper bag. Just sit back and think of Brad Pitt."
Okay. John could work with that.