Fandom: Fry&Laurie RPS (For Beta Goddess Carol)
Pairing: Stephen Fry/Hugh Laurie (mentions of others including RSL)
Notes: Fits into my Hugh&Bobby-verse which starts HERE and follows the most recent story Friends&Lovers but can also be read as a stand-alone.
Warnings: If you think RPS is sick, disgusting, evil etc. Don't read it.
Thanks to Beta Goddess Carol for picking out an inconsistency and making me find a way to reconcile it to the rest of the series and for general wonderfulness.
Stephen slammed down the cover of the laptop on which he’d been watching the most recent episode of House MD.
He hated feeling this way. It used to be fun picking out the various bits of gay subtext that the writers were sneaking into the dialogue between House and Wilson. That was before he found out that the professional chemistry between Hugh and his co-star had become more than that, before Hugh had confessed that he was having an affair with “Bobby” and had absolutely no intention of stopping.
Since then, every dramatic scene or lingering glance on the screen felt like a deliberate affront. Watching the show left him bristling with hurt, although he was as addicted to watching Dr. House as the good doctor was to his pills. Daniel had started making himself scarce the moment he saw Stephen glowering at a monitor waiting for the bits and torrents to coalesce into another week’s cycle of abuse.
His absence gave Stephen time to recover in the best way possible.
He got into bed, pulled up the blankets and spread a generous amount of his favorite lubricant until everything was warm and slippery, There was a certain amount of comfort to be had in the thought that the rude, unshaven bastard in the small box wasn’t his Hugh.
Rifling through various likely scenarios, he landed on a time in 1993, when they were working on the last Jeeves series. In his memory it was one of those golden periods when it was all he and Hugh could manage to keep their hands off each other on-set and every spare moment was spent shagging in the trailer.
Perhaps memory was exaggerating one or two furtive encounters into something else, but never mind. Not when his cock was swelling into his hand and all the misery was evaporating into the images of Hugh, clean-shaven, wearing one of Bertie’s costumes, trousers down and Stephen standing over him, still amazed that he had the opportunity to fuck this beautiful man. Hugh was married, with the “surprise” baby on the way. Enough guilt to hurt, but not enough to stop sucking Stephen off at regular intervals. That was his Hugh.
The prickliness subsided as his prick swelled. He squeezed affectionately, thinking of Hugh’s beautiful hands, which played his cock as exquisitely as they played the piano.
Harder. Pressure on the head. Faster.
The show couldn’t go on forever. It wasn’t bloody Eastenders, after all. Maybe another two years. Then Hugh would have to leave that fucking Hollywood and his fucking Bobby and come home and work with him. Not Bobby, HIM! He would WIN!
Anticipation of victory sent waves of pleasure through his body and deliciously hot satisfaction spilled out onto his hand.
Well, that was better.
By the time Daniel came home, the demons were banished and Stephen was sitting up in bed watching the comparatively lesser horrors of the nightly news.
“You OK?” he asked, cautiously undressing as though afraid to cross into Stephen’s personal space without a special invitation.
“Fine, love. Do come to bed.”
He could sense skepticism. Daniel wasn’t an idiot. He had to have some idea of what drove his lover into a stew once a week. All Stephen could do was smile and brush off his suspicions with a kiss and a hug.
Hopefully that would be enough. If there was one thing Stephen couldn’t stand, it was a jealous queen.
The next story in the saga is a two-part epic!