Oh My God, He's British!
After a very long while, I am finally writing another story for the kink meme since there is a fill-a-thon going on this month! I hope to write a few short stories for this event so hopefully I'll find the time and inspiration to work on even more of these soon!
This story is for the prompt of Critic having an accent kink and being seduced by Film Brain, since I can't get enough of that couple. I've tried to make it funny and sweet, so I hope if the original prompter reads it, they end up enjoying this.
The title comes from a line Colin spoke about Josie during one of the Credits Readings from one of her American episodes! I only changed she to he, since Film Brain is a he.
“Would you care for a cuppa, Critic?”
This was one of the least sexy sentences known to the English language and yet, when Critic heard it murmured softly into his ear, a thrill of excitement danced up along his spine, before coursing downward toward another region of his body.
“Um, n-no thanks, Film Brain.”
The British producer nodded and went to set the kettle onto his stove, intending to have a cup himself. After a considerable amount of discussion, flattery, and outright pleading, Film Brain had finally gotten Critic to agree to a crossover with him, which was why Critic could be found sitting at his kitchen table one chilly evening.
“How about a snack then?” Film Brain asked as he pulled open the door to his refrigerator and peered inside. “I’ve got some lovely buns which are soft when warmed, or maybe you’d like a taste of my spotted dick? I’ve also got some delicious sausages in here-there’s nothing like having a hot sausage inside you on a cold night!”
“Oh God,” Critic moaned, biting down on his lip and clenching his fists to keep himself from trembling. “Please stop… stop talking…”
Film Brain shut the fridge door and frowned. “What’s wrong, Critic? You look a bit tense.”
“It’s… your accent,” Critic admitted, an embarrassed red tint coloring his cheeks. “I’ve always found British accents sexy, and the shit you’re saying, which I would normally find hilarious if said in any other accent, is having a, um, well let’s just say a different effect on me right now.”
“Really?” Film Brain asked, his eyes suddenly narrowing with delight.
Critic internally cursed himself for revealing such crucial information. “Hey, I-I told you that because I thought I could trust you, Film Brain!”
“Of course you can trust me,” Film Brain said smoothly, his voice becoming as slick as an oil spill. “I would never take advantage of such sensitive information. Now,” he asked, trying his best to sound casual, “is it British accents in general which make you want to polish your knob, or is it the accent used in conjunction with British slang which sets your willy afire?”
“Damn it, Film Brain!” Critic clenched his legs together, hoping it wasn’t obvious just how hard he’d become over the past minute.
“Because, if given the chance, I’d love to Sweeney your Todd tonight and then knock you up tomorrow morning,” Film Brain murmured, batting his eyelashes seductively at the older man.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Those words are not sexy at all!” Critic screamed, despite his body screaming an entirely different message to him.
“I dunno, Critic, you seem a bit bothered about it all,” Film Brain replied, his eyes flashing even more wickedly now. “Does it also work if I just say random words?” he wondered. “Arse, bollocks, fanny, shag.”
“Stop it!”
“What if I tried a Cockney accent? ‘Ello, guvnah! Shine yuh shoes?”
“That’s it!”
Film Brain’s eyes widened in shock when Critic leapt up from his chair, fearing he’d pushed the man too far at last, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender.
“Critic, I-I’m sorry, I really was just kid-”
The rest of Film Brain’s sentence vanished into the ether when Critic wrapped him in his arms and crushed their lips together in an eager, desperate kiss. Without even thinking, Film Brain kissed back, giving in to lust he’d harbored for Critic for so very long, grinding against his body eagerly.
It wasn’t long until the two were lacking clothes and entangled in bed sheets, each releasing years of pent up frustrations, before they collapsed against the mattress, sweaty and exhausted but very satisfied.
Once the realization of what they had done fully sunk in, Film Brain turned to the older man hesitantly.
“Critic,” he said softly before pausing, a look of fear washing over his features. Fear that was instantly dispersed when Critic once again pulled Film Brain into his embrace and held him close.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to tell me that you only have two weeks left to live or something?”
“I… I thought you’d be mad,” Film Brain said, looking incredulously at the arms that were now encircling his torso. “For, you know… exploiting your accent fetish.”
To Film Brain’s relief, and slight annoyance, Critic let out a snort of laughter. “Do you honestly think I’m that easy to manipulate? Okay, don’t answer that,” he said before Film Brain could remind him of a few certain events in his life that he’d rather forget. “My point is, if I didn’t want to have sex with you, then I wouldn’t have had sex with you, accent or no accent.”
“So you… you’re not mad?”
“No I’m not mad, you Limey bastard,” Critic said, eliciting a small laugh from Film Brain. “But if you keep using that damned accent of yours to distract me from work, I won’t be so gentle with you next time.”
Film Brain’s eyes widened at the implication that there would be a ‘next time’ between them and he smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around the older man.
“I promise from now on to limit my queries to a simple snog instead of a full blown jolly rogering the next time you’re working.”
“Fuck,” Critic groaned, closing his eyes as his body grew rather warm for the second time that evening. “You’re trying to get me going for round two, aren’t you?”
“That depends… is it working?”
“… just don’t mention anything Monty Python related or I’ll never be able to get the images out of my head.”
“Deal.”
This story is for the prompt of Critic having an accent kink and being seduced by Film Brain, since I can't get enough of that couple. I've tried to make it funny and sweet, so I hope if the original prompter reads it, they end up enjoying this.
The title comes from a line Colin spoke about Josie during one of the Credits Readings from one of her American episodes! I only changed she to he, since Film Brain is a he.
“Would you care for a cuppa, Critic?”
This was one of the least sexy sentences known to the English language and yet, when Critic heard it murmured softly into his ear, a thrill of excitement danced up along his spine, before coursing downward toward another region of his body.
“Um, n-no thanks, Film Brain.”
The British producer nodded and went to set the kettle onto his stove, intending to have a cup himself. After a considerable amount of discussion, flattery, and outright pleading, Film Brain had finally gotten Critic to agree to a crossover with him, which was why Critic could be found sitting at his kitchen table one chilly evening.
“How about a snack then?” Film Brain asked as he pulled open the door to his refrigerator and peered inside. “I’ve got some lovely buns which are soft when warmed, or maybe you’d like a taste of my spotted dick? I’ve also got some delicious sausages in here-there’s nothing like having a hot sausage inside you on a cold night!”
“Oh God,” Critic moaned, biting down on his lip and clenching his fists to keep himself from trembling. “Please stop… stop talking…”
Film Brain shut the fridge door and frowned. “What’s wrong, Critic? You look a bit tense.”
“It’s… your accent,” Critic admitted, an embarrassed red tint coloring his cheeks. “I’ve always found British accents sexy, and the shit you’re saying, which I would normally find hilarious if said in any other accent, is having a, um, well let’s just say a different effect on me right now.”
“Really?” Film Brain asked, his eyes suddenly narrowing with delight.
Critic internally cursed himself for revealing such crucial information. “Hey, I-I told you that because I thought I could trust you, Film Brain!”
“Of course you can trust me,” Film Brain said smoothly, his voice becoming as slick as an oil spill. “I would never take advantage of such sensitive information. Now,” he asked, trying his best to sound casual, “is it British accents in general which make you want to polish your knob, or is it the accent used in conjunction with British slang which sets your willy afire?”
“Damn it, Film Brain!” Critic clenched his legs together, hoping it wasn’t obvious just how hard he’d become over the past minute.
“Because, if given the chance, I’d love to Sweeney your Todd tonight and then knock you up tomorrow morning,” Film Brain murmured, batting his eyelashes seductively at the older man.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Those words are not sexy at all!” Critic screamed, despite his body screaming an entirely different message to him.
“I dunno, Critic, you seem a bit bothered about it all,” Film Brain replied, his eyes flashing even more wickedly now. “Does it also work if I just say random words?” he wondered. “Arse, bollocks, fanny, shag.”
“Stop it!”
“What if I tried a Cockney accent? ‘Ello, guvnah! Shine yuh shoes?”
“That’s it!”
Film Brain’s eyes widened in shock when Critic leapt up from his chair, fearing he’d pushed the man too far at last, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender.
“Critic, I-I’m sorry, I really was just kid-”
The rest of Film Brain’s sentence vanished into the ether when Critic wrapped him in his arms and crushed their lips together in an eager, desperate kiss. Without even thinking, Film Brain kissed back, giving in to lust he’d harbored for Critic for so very long, grinding against his body eagerly.
It wasn’t long until the two were lacking clothes and entangled in bed sheets, each releasing years of pent up frustrations, before they collapsed against the mattress, sweaty and exhausted but very satisfied.
Once the realization of what they had done fully sunk in, Film Brain turned to the older man hesitantly.
“Critic,” he said softly before pausing, a look of fear washing over his features. Fear that was instantly dispersed when Critic once again pulled Film Brain into his embrace and held him close.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to tell me that you only have two weeks left to live or something?”
“I… I thought you’d be mad,” Film Brain said, looking incredulously at the arms that were now encircling his torso. “For, you know… exploiting your accent fetish.”
To Film Brain’s relief, and slight annoyance, Critic let out a snort of laughter. “Do you honestly think I’m that easy to manipulate? Okay, don’t answer that,” he said before Film Brain could remind him of a few certain events in his life that he’d rather forget. “My point is, if I didn’t want to have sex with you, then I wouldn’t have had sex with you, accent or no accent.”
“So you… you’re not mad?”
“No I’m not mad, you Limey bastard,” Critic said, eliciting a small laugh from Film Brain. “But if you keep using that damned accent of yours to distract me from work, I won’t be so gentle with you next time.”
Film Brain’s eyes widened at the implication that there would be a ‘next time’ between them and he smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around the older man.
“I promise from now on to limit my queries to a simple snog instead of a full blown jolly rogering the next time you’re working.”
“Fuck,” Critic groaned, closing his eyes as his body grew rather warm for the second time that evening. “You’re trying to get me going for round two, aren’t you?”
“That depends… is it working?”
“… just don’t mention anything Monty Python related or I’ll never be able to get the images out of my head.”
“Deal.”