(I hope this is what you're looking for! It's a bit long for something that's supposed to be short, but since I don't think anyone's ever written this pairing, I guess I'm just making up for that, lol. Also, I'm not the best at smut.)
“You're gayer than I thought, Greg.”
“Look who's talking.”
“I thought you were just like...metro. Or some shit like that.”
“May I inform you that you were the one who decided you wanted in my pants and said yes? And 'metro' is so 2005.”
“It was just a cheesy pick-up line, dude. And I was drunk.”
“No, you weren't! You had, like, one beer. The day before. Are you that much of a lightweight?”
Marc scowled. “Maybe.”
“Dude, just admit it. You enjoyed it. Nothing wrong with that.”
“There better not have been some kid with a fucking cell phone watching us, I'll tell you that.”
“There should've been. Maybe then you'd be famous.”
“And you're a household name. Right. Whatever. You keep on thinking that.”
--
Greg stood in the center of the stage, miming a microphone with the bottle of water in his right hand, telling jokes to people who didn't exist. It was the middle of the night, he should have been home asleep, and he shouldn't have even been able to get back into the club in the first place, but there he was.
And there Marc was, also sneaking in, approaching Greg with a look on his face that practically screamed 'I want to do something to you.'
“So, Greg. Nice to see you. Good audience tonight?” He motioned his hand to the empty seats in front of him.
“Nah. A couple of chairs in row F like my act, but the rest don't seem to have any sense of humor at all.”
“At least you're not sleepwalking. Or...sleepjoking.”
“Why're you here, Marc?”
“Dunno.”
“Good, 'cause neither do I.”
There was a second of awkward silence.
“So...”
“So what?”
“Say, Marc. Have you ever thought about having sex onstage?”
“What?”
“Not with you. Just...in general.”
“In front of an audience?”
“Sometimes. Other times we're alone...”
“We? Who's we?”
“Me and anyone who'll do it with me.”
“You're trying to get me to have sex with you, aren't you?”
“Sure, why not?”
Marc looked off to his right. “Well...” He walked over to Greg, grabbing his suit jacket with both of his hands. “Just remember this, alright? What happens below the belt stays below the belt.”
--
“Goddammit...Greg...y-your voice...”
“What? Distracting?”
“So...fucking...irritating...”
“Too late to change it, baby...”
“Don't...call me...”
Marc trailed off as Greg thrusted inside him again, causing both men to moan in pleasure.
“I...hate you...”
“D-Ditto...”
“Oughta...stop talking?”
“Yeah...Marc...that's it...”
Greg smirked as he began licking Marc's neck, paying particular attention to his jawline (and trying not to accidentally swallow Marc's hair).
“H-How'd you know?...”
“Lucky guess.”
“Damn lucky...oh yeah, keep doing that...Greg!” Greg reached around Marc and wrapped his hands around his erect cock, stroking it. The minutes following were a mixture of moans, grunts, “Marc!”s, “Greg!”s, and heavy panting as they continued on, faster and harder. Well, they were minutes, although to them they felt like hours.
Before long, Marc was the first of the two to come. Greg felt an odd sort of pride at this, but he was too busy climaxing himself to really pay much attention.
--
“I need a fucking cigarette.”
“Where are they? And I thought you quit.”
“Wherever the fuck my clothes are, Marc. And I need a fucking cigarette.”
“And where are your clothes?”
“Hell if I know.”
“We're on an empty stage. How do you manage to lose a pile of clothes on an empty stage?”
“Maybe they fell off...”
“Yeah, well, I'm not looking for them.”
“God, I feel bad for the janitor here. He's gonna have to clean all this up.”
“Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you decided we had to fuck onstage.”
“But it was great, right? And at least it won't be us.”
Marc sighed. “I'm leaving, then. I need sleep.” He stood up and began walking.
“I don't know if you notice this, Marc, but you're naked too. So neither of us are going until we find those renegade clothes of ours.”
“You know what, Greg? You really piss me off sometimes.”
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dancing_serpent
The Maron/Proops 'Experiment'
Date: 2008-08-27 08:30 pm (UTC)“You're gayer than I thought, Greg.”
“Look who's talking.”
“I thought you were just like...metro. Or some shit like that.”
“May I inform you that you were the one who decided you wanted in my pants and said yes? And 'metro' is so 2005.”
“It was just a cheesy pick-up line, dude. And I was drunk.”
“No, you weren't! You had, like, one beer. The day before. Are you that much of a lightweight?”
Marc scowled. “Maybe.”
“Dude, just admit it. You enjoyed it. Nothing wrong with that.”
“There better not have been some kid with a fucking cell phone watching us, I'll tell you that.”
“There should've been. Maybe then you'd be famous.”
“And you're a household name. Right. Whatever. You keep on thinking that.”
--
Greg stood in the center of the stage, miming a microphone with the bottle of water in his right hand, telling jokes to people who didn't exist. It was the middle of the night, he should have been home asleep, and he shouldn't have even been able to get back into the club in the first place, but there he was.
And there Marc was, also sneaking in, approaching Greg with a look on his face that practically screamed 'I want to do something to you.'
“So, Greg. Nice to see you. Good audience tonight?” He motioned his hand to the empty seats in front of him.
“Nah. A couple of chairs in row F like my act, but the rest don't seem to have any sense of humor at all.”
“At least you're not sleepwalking. Or...sleepjoking.”
“Why're you here, Marc?”
“Dunno.”
“Good, 'cause neither do I.”
There was a second of awkward silence.
“So...”
“So what?”
“Say, Marc. Have you ever thought about having sex onstage?”
“What?”
“Not with you. Just...in general.”
“In front of an audience?”
“Sometimes. Other times we're alone...”
“We? Who's we?”
“Me and anyone who'll do it with me.”
“You're trying to get me to have sex with you, aren't you?”
“Sure, why not?”
Marc looked off to his right. “Well...” He walked over to Greg, grabbing his suit jacket with both of his hands. “Just remember this, alright? What happens below the belt stays below the belt.”
--
“Goddammit...Greg...y-your voice...”
“What? Distracting?”
“So...fucking...irritating...”
“Too late to change it, baby...”
“Don't...call me...”
Marc trailed off as Greg thrusted inside him again, causing both men to moan in pleasure.
“I...hate you...”
“D-Ditto...”
“Oughta...stop talking?”
“Yeah...Marc...that's it...”
Greg smirked as he began licking Marc's neck, paying particular attention to his jawline (and trying not to accidentally swallow Marc's hair).
“H-How'd you know?...”
“Lucky guess.”
“Damn lucky...oh yeah, keep doing that...Greg!” Greg reached around Marc and wrapped his hands around his erect cock, stroking it. The minutes following were a mixture of moans, grunts, “Marc!”s, “Greg!”s, and heavy panting as they continued on, faster and harder. Well, they were minutes, although to them they felt like hours.
Before long, Marc was the first of the two to come. Greg felt an odd sort of pride at this, but he was too busy climaxing himself to really pay much attention.
--
“I need a fucking cigarette.”
“Where are they? And I thought you quit.”
“Wherever the fuck my clothes are, Marc. And I need a fucking cigarette.”
“And where are your clothes?”
“Hell if I know.”
“We're on an empty stage. How do you manage to lose a pile of clothes on an empty stage?”
“Maybe they fell off...”
“Yeah, well, I'm not looking for them.”
“God, I feel bad for the janitor here. He's gonna have to clean all this up.”
“Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you decided we had to fuck onstage.”
“But it was great, right? And at least it won't be us.”
Marc sighed. “I'm leaving, then. I need sleep.” He stood up and began walking.
“I don't know if you notice this, Marc, but you're naked too. So neither of us are going until we find those renegade clothes of ours.”
“You know what, Greg? You really piss me off sometimes.”
“Same here, Marc. Same here.”