Drink Me Under, Pull Me In
Fandom: Smosh
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Rating: R
Summary: Ian and Anthony get drunk, and they decide that maybe some things aren't quite that gay, really.
A/N: Title credit goes to All Time Low's song Backseat Serenade~
It was only a little after midnight, but Ian and Anthony were both done in for the night.
Ian thought it was kind of pathetic, really. They hadn’t even had that much to drink, really, but neither of them could keep their eyes open, or speak without their voice turning into a slurred mumble. Maybe they were getting too old to party.
It had started as just a few beers with the crew after shooting, but after they’d all left, Ian and Anthony had decided to keep drinking while they watched some dumb movie on TV. It had been fun; Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly drunk before tonight. It was something that happened less and less often as they got busier with Smosh. It was nice to just relax, watch bad movies, and laugh until they slumped sideways onto each other’s shoulders.
But now the giddiness had given way to exhaustion, and they were sprawled out on the sofa, awkwardly positioned but too tired to move. Ian was stretched out on his back, one leg dangling off the edge of the sofa, while Anthony lay nestled on his side between Ian and the back of the couch. He was lying half on top of Ian, his head resting heavily on Ian’s chest. One of his legs was slung over Ian’s so that his knee just brushed the inside of the thigh of his other leg, the one that was hanging off the couch. Ian wasn’t entirely sure how they’d ended up in this position, but he was too drunk to care. Besides, the warm, heavy weight of Anthony pressed up against him felt kind of nice. Sure, they were sort of cuddling and that was maybe kinda gay, but since neither of them were quite capable of movement right now, Ian figured he might as well enjoy it.
He was just beginning to fall asleep, or maybe pass out, when he was pulled out of his half-conscious state by a vague sensation of movement. Blinking his eyes open sleepily, he realized that Anthony was shifting back and forth slightly, rocking his hips the tiniest amount against Ian’s thigh.
“What’re y’doin’?” Ian mumbled, his words still slightly slurred. Anthony didn’t reply, apart from nuzzling his face against Ian’s chest. Ian decided that the issue wasn’t important enough to pursue, and he let his eyes slip shut again. He was about to drift off when he realized, with a vague sense of surprise, that there was something hard pressing against his thigh.
Anthony definitely had a hard-on.
After a few seconds of struggling to think clearly through his alcohol-induced exhaustion, Ian was able to discern that he wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact. If anything, he was curious.
“Ant?” he murmured. He gently cupped the side of Anthony’s face, turning his head to face him, and ran his thumb across Anthony’s bottom lip. He wasn’t sure why; it just seemed like a good thing to do.
Anthony’s eyes fluttered halfway open, brown irises dark and pupils blown. Without hesitation, he sucked the tip of Ian’s thumb into his mouth, biting down on it softly. Ian let out a soft groan. He must have been drunker than he thought, because Anthony licking at the pad of his thumb was awakening shivers of arousal at the base of his spine. And he wasn’t gay, but God damn it, there was something kind of hot about the way Anthony was subtly grinding against his thigh. Ian slid his hand down to cup Anthony’s ass, squeezing it gently. Anthony moaned quietly, burying his face in Ian’s neck as he continued to hump Ian’s leg. It was weird, but Ian’s cock didn’t seem to mind; he was half-hard already.
“Nnhh... ‘m so horny,” Anthony mumbled against Ian’s collarbone. Ian squeezed Anthony’s ass again, urging his hips to rock deeper against Ian’s thigh.
“Go ahead and get off,” Ian murmured. “I don’t mind.”
Anthony nodded his thanks and rolled his hips again, harder this time, a small moan escaping his lips as his cock rubbed against Ian’s thigh through their jeans. Ian closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling and the tiny hitches in Anthony’s breathing. This whole thing wasn’t really that gay, he decided. It wasn’t like they were fucking each other; hell, they weren’t even making out. Totally not that gay.
Suddenly, Ian gasped aloud as a shock of pleasure shot through his body. Opening his eyes and squinting downward, he realized that Anthony’s hand was on his crotch, loosely grasping Ian’s own hard-on through the fabric of his pants. Ian hadn’t even realized that he was fully hard, but he definitely was now, and Anthony’s hand on his cock felt like fucking heaven. And maybe that was a little gay, but Jesus, Ian was so past caring by now that all he wanted was for Anthony to never stop touching him. Groaning softly, he rolled his hips up against Anthony’s hand as best he could, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. Anthony was hardly doing anything more than rubbing his cock clumsily through his jeans, but somehow it felt better than any sexual favor Ian had received in a long, long time. He whimpered aloud, not caring if he sounded desperate; the pleasure was building faster than he could imagine, and he was nearing the edge already. Fuck, it felt good.
Anthony’s hips bucked faster and faster against Ian’s thigh, the sofa creaking underneath them as they both rocked and thrust. “Close,” Anthony mumbled, burying his face into Ian’s neck. “Gonna... gonna... oh, fuck...”
Anthony’s hand rubbed Ian furiously through his jeans, and Ian moaned loudly as his whole body arched in pleasure. “Coming,” he managed to groan out, before his whole body convulsed with the beginnings of his orgasm. He heard his own voice moaning out a stream of incoherent curses, and he vaguely registered the feeling of Anthony’s teeth biting down on his shoulder; and then a flash of white exploded across his vision as he came, immediately drenching his boxers in sticky fluid.
Anthony moaned against Ian’s shoulder, and Ian felt Anthony’s body tense up before he choked out a strangled “fuck!” His hips rocked desperately against Ian’s thigh for several more seconds, riding out the last of the pleasure before he stilled his body, panting softly.
“Wow,” Ian said breathlessly, his voice slightly hoarse.
Anthony nodded, burying his face in Ian’s neck once again. Ian tentatively stroked his best friend’s hair, smoothing down a few strands that were sticking up. Anthony hummed appreciatively.
Ian yawned widely, his eyes drooping shut again. His whole body felt relaxed, and the warm weight of Anthony pressed up against his side was extremely comfortable. He turned his face into Anthony’s hair, nuzzling his cheek against it. It was soft, and smelled a little like coconut.
A soft snore emitted from Anthony’s open mouth, and Ian smiled. Sleeping did sound nice, though; in fact, there was nothing Ian wanted to do more. He curled in closer to Anthony - after all, how much gayer could this night get, really? - and in a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep.
Pairing: Ian/Anthony
Rating: R
Summary: Ian and Anthony get drunk, and they decide that maybe some things aren't quite that gay, really.
A/N: Title credit goes to All Time Low's song Backseat Serenade~
It was only a little after midnight, but Ian and Anthony were both done in for the night.
Ian thought it was kind of pathetic, really. They hadn’t even had that much to drink, really, but neither of them could keep their eyes open, or speak without their voice turning into a slurred mumble. Maybe they were getting too old to party.
It had started as just a few beers with the crew after shooting, but after they’d all left, Ian and Anthony had decided to keep drinking while they watched some dumb movie on TV. It had been fun; Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly drunk before tonight. It was something that happened less and less often as they got busier with Smosh. It was nice to just relax, watch bad movies, and laugh until they slumped sideways onto each other’s shoulders.
But now the giddiness had given way to exhaustion, and they were sprawled out on the sofa, awkwardly positioned but too tired to move. Ian was stretched out on his back, one leg dangling off the edge of the sofa, while Anthony lay nestled on his side between Ian and the back of the couch. He was lying half on top of Ian, his head resting heavily on Ian’s chest. One of his legs was slung over Ian’s so that his knee just brushed the inside of the thigh of his other leg, the one that was hanging off the couch. Ian wasn’t entirely sure how they’d ended up in this position, but he was too drunk to care. Besides, the warm, heavy weight of Anthony pressed up against him felt kind of nice. Sure, they were sort of cuddling and that was maybe kinda gay, but since neither of them were quite capable of movement right now, Ian figured he might as well enjoy it.
He was just beginning to fall asleep, or maybe pass out, when he was pulled out of his half-conscious state by a vague sensation of movement. Blinking his eyes open sleepily, he realized that Anthony was shifting back and forth slightly, rocking his hips the tiniest amount against Ian’s thigh.
“What’re y’doin’?” Ian mumbled, his words still slightly slurred. Anthony didn’t reply, apart from nuzzling his face against Ian’s chest. Ian decided that the issue wasn’t important enough to pursue, and he let his eyes slip shut again. He was about to drift off when he realized, with a vague sense of surprise, that there was something hard pressing against his thigh.
Anthony definitely had a hard-on.
After a few seconds of struggling to think clearly through his alcohol-induced exhaustion, Ian was able to discern that he wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact. If anything, he was curious.
“Ant?” he murmured. He gently cupped the side of Anthony’s face, turning his head to face him, and ran his thumb across Anthony’s bottom lip. He wasn’t sure why; it just seemed like a good thing to do.
Anthony’s eyes fluttered halfway open, brown irises dark and pupils blown. Without hesitation, he sucked the tip of Ian’s thumb into his mouth, biting down on it softly. Ian let out a soft groan. He must have been drunker than he thought, because Anthony licking at the pad of his thumb was awakening shivers of arousal at the base of his spine. And he wasn’t gay, but God damn it, there was something kind of hot about the way Anthony was subtly grinding against his thigh. Ian slid his hand down to cup Anthony’s ass, squeezing it gently. Anthony moaned quietly, burying his face in Ian’s neck as he continued to hump Ian’s leg. It was weird, but Ian’s cock didn’t seem to mind; he was half-hard already.
“Nnhh... ‘m so horny,” Anthony mumbled against Ian’s collarbone. Ian squeezed Anthony’s ass again, urging his hips to rock deeper against Ian’s thigh.
“Go ahead and get off,” Ian murmured. “I don’t mind.”
Anthony nodded his thanks and rolled his hips again, harder this time, a small moan escaping his lips as his cock rubbed against Ian’s thigh through their jeans. Ian closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling and the tiny hitches in Anthony’s breathing. This whole thing wasn’t really that gay, he decided. It wasn’t like they were fucking each other; hell, they weren’t even making out. Totally not that gay.
Suddenly, Ian gasped aloud as a shock of pleasure shot through his body. Opening his eyes and squinting downward, he realized that Anthony’s hand was on his crotch, loosely grasping Ian’s own hard-on through the fabric of his pants. Ian hadn’t even realized that he was fully hard, but he definitely was now, and Anthony’s hand on his cock felt like fucking heaven. And maybe that was a little gay, but Jesus, Ian was so past caring by now that all he wanted was for Anthony to never stop touching him. Groaning softly, he rolled his hips up against Anthony’s hand as best he could, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. Anthony was hardly doing anything more than rubbing his cock clumsily through his jeans, but somehow it felt better than any sexual favor Ian had received in a long, long time. He whimpered aloud, not caring if he sounded desperate; the pleasure was building faster than he could imagine, and he was nearing the edge already. Fuck, it felt good.
Anthony’s hips bucked faster and faster against Ian’s thigh, the sofa creaking underneath them as they both rocked and thrust. “Close,” Anthony mumbled, burying his face into Ian’s neck. “Gonna... gonna... oh, fuck...”
Anthony’s hand rubbed Ian furiously through his jeans, and Ian moaned loudly as his whole body arched in pleasure. “Coming,” he managed to groan out, before his whole body convulsed with the beginnings of his orgasm. He heard his own voice moaning out a stream of incoherent curses, and he vaguely registered the feeling of Anthony’s teeth biting down on his shoulder; and then a flash of white exploded across his vision as he came, immediately drenching his boxers in sticky fluid.
Anthony moaned against Ian’s shoulder, and Ian felt Anthony’s body tense up before he choked out a strangled “fuck!” His hips rocked desperately against Ian’s thigh for several more seconds, riding out the last of the pleasure before he stilled his body, panting softly.
“Wow,” Ian said breathlessly, his voice slightly hoarse.
Anthony nodded, burying his face in Ian’s neck once again. Ian tentatively stroked his best friend’s hair, smoothing down a few strands that were sticking up. Anthony hummed appreciatively.
Ian yawned widely, his eyes drooping shut again. His whole body felt relaxed, and the warm weight of Anthony pressed up against his side was extremely comfortable. He turned his face into Anthony’s hair, nuzzling his cheek against it. It was soft, and smelled a little like coconut.
A soft snore emitted from Anthony’s open mouth, and Ian smiled. Sleeping did sound nice, though; in fact, there was nothing Ian wanted to do more. He curled in closer to Anthony - after all, how much gayer could this night get, really? - and in a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep.