Fandom: Heroes RPS
Pairing: SR/MV, ZQ, GG
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be a dare. Really.
Zach hadn't meant for it to come off as a dare.
"Well you know, you guys are pretty and all, I'll give you that. But it's like looking at ... two kittens, playing with a ball of yarn. Not exactly jack-off material."
He really, really hadn't meant it to.
"Grunny! Seriously, let the fuck go of me!"
"No, Greg. Hold him," Milo shoots back, intonation crisp and clear.
"Yeah," Sendhil adds. "And don't forget to keep an eye on his crotch." His words are slurred and he's obviously drunk, but not so much that he's reduced to a fit of giggles, like he always is when he's wasted.
"Guys, I really don't know about this ..." Greg is the voice of reason here, Zach decides, and he looks up at the man behind him and puts on the most pathetic expression he can. He squirms in Greg's hold, and sees Greg frown in hesitation and discomfort. "Guys, I don't think I want to be doing this ..."
"Greg! Don't tell me you're on his side."
"Grunny, he called us pretty but boring!"
Milo and Sendhil shout in unison, making Greg grit his teeth and look back and forth between Milo and Sendhil, sprawled before him on a sofa, and Zach, squirming in his hold on a flimsy stool.
"I called you nothing of the sort!" Zach yells back, filling his voice with as much righteous indignation as he can in this ridiculous situation. If it weren't for his arms twisted behind his back by Greg's strong hands, he'd be laughing. But it hurts, kind of, and above all, this is getting embarrassing. "Can't you see how fucked up this is?"
"This is about integrity," Milo says, voice sombre. Sendhil nods and takes another sip from the beer in his hand. "This is about our integrity as actors, as entertainers, as artists. You crushed our prides, Zach, and called us useless. We will prove you wrong. And when we do, and you get that hard-on you're going to get, you will pick up the check."
"Dammit, guys, I didn't agree to that bet!"
"Enjoy the show," Sendhil says, grinning like an idiot, and bends down to cover Milo's mouth with wet, open lips.
It had started innocently, like most things do with Milo and Sendhil. Because as much as those two love their stupid pranks, they always know the fine line that separates a joke from serious offense, keeps the provocative from entering into the realm of the deliberately cruel. When it comes down to it, Zach thinks, they're both just nice.
Sendhil touches people, when he's drunk. He always does. Today he had happened to sit beside Milo, so Milo had been the victim of hands on knees, thigh pressed close against thigh, the occasional hugging, head on shoulder. But all that, like themselves, had stayed within the clearly-defined lines of the "nice". And when Sendhil had raised an eyebrow in his direction and asked, quite audaciously, if Zach was getting off on watching the two of them like that, Zach had told them the plain truth, as he saw it. Nice. Cute. Pretty. Not much more.
"I can't believe you guys want me to get off on you touching," Zach says, a sigh escaping his lips. He hears Greg grunt somewhere above him in what he interprets as agreement.
"Shut up and watch," Milo says, in-between placing close-mouthed kisses along Sendhil's jaw. Zach sighs again and settles in his chair to watch -- it's not as though he can do much else.
Milo is sitting sideways on the sofa with one leg tucked up under him and the other hanging off the edge, toes pressed against the floor. Sendhil is practically sitting in Milo's lap, knees on each side of his thighs, running his fingers through Milo's hair while rocking his ass back and forth, in a movement Zach knows is deliberately trying to entice him ... and failing miserably. What sane person gets off on watching his friends act like B-list porn stars?
Milo's mouth moves on to Sendhil's neck next, and Sendhil throws back his head and licks at his lips. He has nice lips, Zach thinks, in a sort of detached way you might admire an impeccably-drawn nude by Leonardo. They're nice, full and pouty. Milo's are nice too, thinner than Sendhil's but with more expression in them, erotic in theory as they close around Sendhil's Adam's apple.
It's pretty clear to Zach that Milo's hands don't really know what to do or where to go. They rest on Sendhil's sides, glued to the white shirt; two inches down and they'd be at the waistband of the dark jeans, and two inches up they'd be too close to Sendhil's chest. Sendhil takes the initiative, which surprises Zach a little, but the alcohol probably helps. Poor sober Milo startles when Sendhil's hands reach back to cover his, guiding them down and up again, under the thin fabric. Zach sees Milo swallow and bite his lips before Sendhil kisses him again, open-mouthed and sloppy but without tongue, tugging at Milo's lips until they open and then just sort of pressing their mouths together, soft and dry and ... well, despite everything, chaste.
When Sendhil places his palms against Milo's chest and begins to rock his hips again, Milo lifts his ass from the couch to match the motion. From where Zach is sitting he can't really tell how close they actually are, if their groins are even touching, but for all appearance they're grinding against each other quite enthusiastically. Zach looks around, not because he's worried in the slightest about the state of his own nether regions, but because the display is getting really rather embarrassing. It's dark in here, sure, and the music's loud, and they're sitting in the most secluded corner they could find, but people have got to start noticing soon.
"Guys, it's not working," he says, hoping the bored tone in his voice will convince them to give it up already, but to no avail. Milo just opens his eyes and glares at him for a second before moving his hands further up Sendhil's shirt, revealing dark skin and making Sendhil squirm. Zach rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He has nothing but respect for their acting, really he doesn't, and he can see that they're attractive, he's not blind, but he knows they don't mean any of what they're doing, because he knows they're both straight.
And suddenly, the moment he thinks that, there's a tingle in his groin. Zach frowns, wondering where the hell that came from, until he realizes what's actually happening, here. He's looking at two completely straight guys making out. Isn't that, like, a wet dream? Sort of like the 'your straight best friend that you've secretly had a crush on for years confesses his love to you and fucks you silly and later you pop his cherry' fantasy? Except this is two straight guys, not just one? "Shit," he mutters under his breath. This is too lame and too cliché; he's not going to let those bastards have the satisfaction of seeing him aroused based on some stupid kink. But he feels himself twitch against the cotton of his underwear, and suddenly the bar is far too hot, and ...
"Jesus fuck!"
Zach blinks, surprised that the expletive hasn't come out of his own mouth. Suddenly his hands are free and he falls forward a bit in his chair, and he looks up and sees with wide eyes the equally wide-eyed stare of Sendhil and Milo. He turns around just in time to see Greg run through the crowd and disappear in the direction of the bathrooms.
They all just stare, for a while, before dissolving into fits of hysteria. Sendhil slides off Milo, covering his face with both hands while his whole body shakes, and Milo throws his head back and all but guffaws.
"I win," Zach says, smirking, though he's feeling sorry for Grunny that the man had to take the fall for him. Next time they're out, Zach will buy him drinks till he pukes. "You're paying."
"Okay, okay," Sendhil says and rolls his eyes, finishing his beer.
"I wonder if Greg's coming back," Milo mumbles, not particularly at anyone, and they all exchange a look. If he's lucky, Greg will have forgotten all about it in the morning. If Zach's lucky, so will he. They decide the graceful thing is to let Greg be for now, and leave in a hurry.