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Entry tags:
A Gay Afternoon
Title: A Gay Afternoon
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry remembers a particular afternoon with Perry
Fandom: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Harry/Perry)
Word count: 2439
Notes: Written for the first KKBBFF challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kkissbbang, with the prompt "The Gym". As one of the five people in the world who prefer Harry/Harmony, it frustrated me that my first KKBB fic would be about the other ship. On the other hand, these two are too fun not to write and I don't know why I hadn't tried this fandom sooner. I may just write more.
When you're a detective, or working for a detective-- a detective's assistant, if you will, you've got to stay on top of your game. Mind, matter, all that kind of stuff.
And for most people, the simple answer to this question is a gym membership. Of course, in Perry's case, there's also apparently some rule in the big book of gay that says you have to be a member at the local Gold's Gym or else they like, take away your pecker or something.
But that's Perry. I, on the other hand, being a completely straight as straight can be straight man (you've seen the movie, read the novelization, you get it, right?) kinda had a problem with one, working out and watching my boss sweat into the oldies right besides me and two, having the really nice looking girls that also go to the gym misconstrue our joint membership as omg, they're totally flaming up-the-ass-and-around-the-corner gay lovers. I mean, I had no problems with Perry's lifestyle-- for God's sake, he's my boss. I have no real say in the matter anyway. But even if we were like, you know, fair weather friends who spoke every five years or so I really wouldn't care.
So long story kinda shorter, Perry installed a home gym for me so that I can stay on top of my game and I get the house kind of to myself. Oh yeah, I'm kinda living with Perry. I guess I didn't mention that, but I mean it's kinda obvious, no? But I'm in the pool-type part, it's totally separate from the rest of the house. Well, not really. I mean, there's like this wall that keeps them connected. Whatever. This whole arrangement doesn't really help with the gym chick dilemma though. We'll get to that.
Anyway, since Perry likes to pretend he's one of those CIA spies or something, he doesn't like to use the same car on the stake-outs and in every day life. He calls it smart. I call it anal. So guess who gets to be his chauffeur around town? Right, me. It's not like I have another career as an actor anymore, or you know, any semblance of a private life.
You can't really, not with Perry. I mean, you try living with a private eye and keeping secrets.
So the point of this story, that's taking me fucking forever to even begin to tell you about, is about this one day at the gym. I'm not entirely proud of it, but it's part of my life and I think it makes a pretty fucking awesome story. And you know, it's my story and I tell it better than Perry so shut the fuck up, turn off the TV, stop the iTunes-- your precious underground music that makes you feel like a schoolgirl will still be there when I'm done. Trust me, that band isn't getting discovered in the next thirty minutes in some shitty hole in the wall club where all the "native L.A. girls" like to shoot up crack in the bathrooms-- and pay attention.
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It was a Wednesday afternoon. I know this for sure because the night before Perry was watching this reality TV show that comes on Tuesday nights and I could hear him talking at the TV through the walls. I didn't fall asleep until 2 in the morning. Yes, I'm aware that crappy reality TV does not actually air that late. Perry was watching a taped version on his beloved TiVo. Thus, my not sleeping until 2am.
The day was also a really sunny one, which is the reason I had my sunglasses on that day. Not like that's a big epiphany-- it's always bright as fuck in LA. Anyway, I was just drying off from my own gym session and getting dressed to go pick up Perry from his. Yeah, I know. How cute, we work out at the same time! Like we were girls on synchronized periods. But really, while Perry's gone is the only time I have to keep myself fit. Otherwise I'm driving him around town for deals and stuff. So I get dressed- nothing fancy, because I'm thinking this is an average day as Perry's slave. So yeah, track pants and a ratty tank top that I've had for years that I think makes me look totally butch; Perry thinks it's the worst piece of fashion ever. But you know, that's the gay speaking. I've seen him sneaking glances in the past. Not that I car-- fuck! Uh... sorry. Back to the story.
In LA, everyone has a car. And they're all pricey SUVs or sedans. Not like back home in New York, where it's just as likely you'll see a Volvo on the road as a Audi. So I've got a red (Perry calls it merlot) 645i BMW that Perry gave me after we locked away the previous owner. Shady, I know. But it's a nice car and despite all the looks I get for it being old by the city's standards it works pretty well and it does what I want it to do-- which is get me from point A to point B. So I hop in, flare up the GPS that I don't even really need after all these months of driving Perry around town, and take off with the windows down and my shades on.
When I showed up-- and by the way, parking in LA is just as fun as trying to get that fat opera lady to stop eating-- Perry was still chatting up his personal trainer. I really don't know what was going on between them but I didn't want to disrupt them, or I would feel the wrath of Perry later on. So I pulled out my iPod and put on some jazzy tunes that Harmony had sent me a few weeks before. I think I looked pretty inconspicuous in my raggy clothes, leaning on the front glass panels of the gym waiting for Perry to come out. I knew it was going to be pretty fucking long-- after Perry finished his workout, there was still the showers and then the long wait until he was dressed again. And if you don't know Perry, you don't know how long that could take. I think it's another section of the gay code or something, under trying to replicate women and how they drive men insane by making them wait on them forever and a day. Don't get me started on how long a day of shopping takes.
I listened to at least two complete albums by the time Perry came out, and if you track time by track length like I do, that's about two hours. I told you-- Perry takes his fucking time. We walked the two blocks to the car in silence, since Perry was messing around with his BlackBerry or something. I can never tell what he does on that thing. I turned off the alarm and hopped into the driver's seat. Perry got into the passenger's side.
"Hey," Perry said to me, breathless. As if after three hours of working out in a gym, entering a sedan was the most strenuous thing ever. He sniffed the air surrounding him and had a quizzical look on his face. But he was wearing these obnoxiously huge sunglasses like that first lady made famous like, forty years ago or whatever so all I really saw was his huge, white smile.
"Are you wearing my cologne?" Perry's smile turned devious and would've turned me into goo if I was into those kinds of things. He kinda reminded me of a dog looking at its dinner bowl. Which now that I think about it, he gave me that look a lot. Maybe I should've paid more attention then. Huh.
"No, what? I just got out of the shower," I said, rustling my wet hair around to illustrate my point. "That's just me and whatever soap was in the shower." Perry still looked like he wanted to jump me, so I smiled uneasily. He just chuckled and looked down at my crotch. By now I was feeling pretty violated, without even having done anything.
Perry scooted over as best he could with the arm rest between the seats barricading him from me. Never had I been more thankful and also kind of disappointed in an arm rest. Except for that one day Harmony and I went to see Back To The Future III. I was definitely disappointed in that arm rest.
I couldn't tell what was going on inside my own body, but I was getting excited in this tiny little moment. Perry noticed this too, of course, because he's Perry. So then he goes and grabs my leg and don't ask me why, but I didn't move or anything. It's like my whole body wanted this to happen, whatever it was. My mind, on the other hand, was still trying to send out heterosexual vibes. Obviously to no avail, as Perry started stroking me through my track pants. They were the kind that had snaps down the side, but ripping them off right here in a stripper's fit of glory would definitely destroy the moment. Thankfully, Perry went for the more obvious choice: the zipper. Which was good because I'm easily excited, as Harmony could probably tell you, and a few more seconds I would've busted out of the pants on my own. As soon as I was exposed to the afternoon air, Perry jammed his head straight down. I swear you would think I was a gay target practice. Again, I wasn't freaking out. Okay, well I was. I was freaking out over why I wasn't freaking out.
You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? Well, my entire hetero lifestyle before now flashed before my eyes. I kept trying to shut my eyes in a vain attempt to like, hold onto them. But I have to say, it was a pretty incredible blowjob. I mean, I had to expect that a gay guy like Perry would be a master of sorts at this, and I know I'm not the most experienced with gay guys but fuck. Watching Perry's head bob up and down in the front seat of my car was gorgeous. I know that sounds cliche and whatever, but you try to explain your feelings during the best blowjob, unexpected and somehow unwanted, as it was.
Also, try remembering anything but feelings at the time. I mean, Perry's really, really good with his tongue...
Um, sorry.
After about two minutes-- I'm not winning any Tantric sex awards soon, I know-- I tried to warn Perry by grabbing his hair and pulling up, and you'd think he, of all people, would understand what that meant, but he just kept on like a fucking Hoover vacuum. So I shot my load into his mouth thinking, 'Great. Now I was probably going to get chewed out for not warning him.' Even though you and I know that Perry was the one not paying attention.
Instead Perry just looked up at me with death eyes and-- this part always fucking blows my mind, on top of the amazing blowjob. But Perry swallowed. Then he settled back into the passenger seat and looked straight out the front windshield like we were at a drive-in and he was missing the important end battle scene.
And fine, I'll admit I can fuck things up pretty well. I don't really think before I act. But there was something about Perry in that moment that made me need him immediately. I mean, it was already pretty fucking weird and the line was already pretty damn blurred. And I know the whole swallowing thing was probably another gay rule, but I lunged at Perry, grabbing at his face and trying to avoid the traces of my own cum on his face.
So now I'm like, kissing Perry. And oh yeah, poor me, right? I'm obviously enjoying this. The only thing that's flashing in my brain like a damn disco floor is the fact that I don't know where this is going and what to do if it goes, you know, into that gray, gay area. Although at this point it's pretty much 80% gay already so I decided that I was going to go along with it. Within five minutes Perry had somehow gotten my pants off, along with his own. Please do not ask why I thought this was a good idea, my being inexperienced at this sort of thing.
I'm not too sure of the details past this point. Perry asked something about whether I was okay with this, which confused me because one, he'd never asked me that before-- ever. And two, I thought my feelings were pretty clear by the way I wasn't five blocks down the road with my pants around my ankles. So I kissed him again, not knowing what else to do-- again, not the expert here.
Now, you know what Perry looks like-- well, even if you don't, the guy had just come from the gym. He's a hulking figure. And the car is pretty small so however he accomplished the feat of getting himself on top of me in that small... well, I don't know but in retrospect I'm pretty grateful for his flexibility.
So we all know what happened next, which believe me, was not how I pictured that day going at all. There was a lot of pulsating and throbbing and bumping and it was all Liberace in Harlequin novels and it's my ass and my private life so I'm not telling you the details. I'm just very thankful my car had very nice, dark, tinted LA-approved windows that day.
I didn't expect to still be employed after it did go that way, and well, I'm still living here... with Perry. Well, working and living.
Wait, does that make me like, his love slave or something? I mean, he writes my checks in the day and fucks me at night. But he pays me-- not for the fucking, obviously, but... I mean, I still like women.
I'm sorry. I have to go ask Perry something. But shit, you've been here long enough and your iTunes is still paused, isn't it? I already told the story, and it's not like there's a real end to it-- Perry and I are still together.
So whatever, go back to your previous underground mp3s and maybe next time I'll ask you about your sex life.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry remembers a particular afternoon with Perry
Fandom: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Harry/Perry)
Word count: 2439
Notes: Written for the first KKBBFF challenge at
kkissbbang, with the prompt "The Gym". As one of the five people in the world who prefer Harry/Harmony, it frustrated me that my first KKBB fic would be about the other ship. On the other hand, these two are too fun not to write and I don't know why I hadn't tried this fandom sooner. I may just write more.When you're a detective, or working for a detective-- a detective's assistant, if you will, you've got to stay on top of your game. Mind, matter, all that kind of stuff.
And for most people, the simple answer to this question is a gym membership. Of course, in Perry's case, there's also apparently some rule in the big book of gay that says you have to be a member at the local Gold's Gym or else they like, take away your pecker or something.
But that's Perry. I, on the other hand, being a completely straight as straight can be straight man (you've seen the movie, read the novelization, you get it, right?) kinda had a problem with one, working out and watching my boss sweat into the oldies right besides me and two, having the really nice looking girls that also go to the gym misconstrue our joint membership as omg, they're totally flaming up-the-ass-and-around-the-corner gay lovers. I mean, I had no problems with Perry's lifestyle-- for God's sake, he's my boss. I have no real say in the matter anyway. But even if we were like, you know, fair weather friends who spoke every five years or so I really wouldn't care.
So long story kinda shorter, Perry installed a home gym for me so that I can stay on top of my game and I get the house kind of to myself. Oh yeah, I'm kinda living with Perry. I guess I didn't mention that, but I mean it's kinda obvious, no? But I'm in the pool-type part, it's totally separate from the rest of the house. Well, not really. I mean, there's like this wall that keeps them connected. Whatever. This whole arrangement doesn't really help with the gym chick dilemma though. We'll get to that.
Anyway, since Perry likes to pretend he's one of those CIA spies or something, he doesn't like to use the same car on the stake-outs and in every day life. He calls it smart. I call it anal. So guess who gets to be his chauffeur around town? Right, me. It's not like I have another career as an actor anymore, or you know, any semblance of a private life.
You can't really, not with Perry. I mean, you try living with a private eye and keeping secrets.
So the point of this story, that's taking me fucking forever to even begin to tell you about, is about this one day at the gym. I'm not entirely proud of it, but it's part of my life and I think it makes a pretty fucking awesome story. And you know, it's my story and I tell it better than Perry so shut the fuck up, turn off the TV, stop the iTunes-- your precious underground music that makes you feel like a schoolgirl will still be there when I'm done. Trust me, that band isn't getting discovered in the next thirty minutes in some shitty hole in the wall club where all the "native L.A. girls" like to shoot up crack in the bathrooms-- and pay attention.
------------
It was a Wednesday afternoon. I know this for sure because the night before Perry was watching this reality TV show that comes on Tuesday nights and I could hear him talking at the TV through the walls. I didn't fall asleep until 2 in the morning. Yes, I'm aware that crappy reality TV does not actually air that late. Perry was watching a taped version on his beloved TiVo. Thus, my not sleeping until 2am.
The day was also a really sunny one, which is the reason I had my sunglasses on that day. Not like that's a big epiphany-- it's always bright as fuck in LA. Anyway, I was just drying off from my own gym session and getting dressed to go pick up Perry from his. Yeah, I know. How cute, we work out at the same time! Like we were girls on synchronized periods. But really, while Perry's gone is the only time I have to keep myself fit. Otherwise I'm driving him around town for deals and stuff. So I get dressed- nothing fancy, because I'm thinking this is an average day as Perry's slave. So yeah, track pants and a ratty tank top that I've had for years that I think makes me look totally butch; Perry thinks it's the worst piece of fashion ever. But you know, that's the gay speaking. I've seen him sneaking glances in the past. Not that I car-- fuck! Uh... sorry. Back to the story.
In LA, everyone has a car. And they're all pricey SUVs or sedans. Not like back home in New York, where it's just as likely you'll see a Volvo on the road as a Audi. So I've got a red (Perry calls it merlot) 645i BMW that Perry gave me after we locked away the previous owner. Shady, I know. But it's a nice car and despite all the looks I get for it being old by the city's standards it works pretty well and it does what I want it to do-- which is get me from point A to point B. So I hop in, flare up the GPS that I don't even really need after all these months of driving Perry around town, and take off with the windows down and my shades on.
When I showed up-- and by the way, parking in LA is just as fun as trying to get that fat opera lady to stop eating-- Perry was still chatting up his personal trainer. I really don't know what was going on between them but I didn't want to disrupt them, or I would feel the wrath of Perry later on. So I pulled out my iPod and put on some jazzy tunes that Harmony had sent me a few weeks before. I think I looked pretty inconspicuous in my raggy clothes, leaning on the front glass panels of the gym waiting for Perry to come out. I knew it was going to be pretty fucking long-- after Perry finished his workout, there was still the showers and then the long wait until he was dressed again. And if you don't know Perry, you don't know how long that could take. I think it's another section of the gay code or something, under trying to replicate women and how they drive men insane by making them wait on them forever and a day. Don't get me started on how long a day of shopping takes.
I listened to at least two complete albums by the time Perry came out, and if you track time by track length like I do, that's about two hours. I told you-- Perry takes his fucking time. We walked the two blocks to the car in silence, since Perry was messing around with his BlackBerry or something. I can never tell what he does on that thing. I turned off the alarm and hopped into the driver's seat. Perry got into the passenger's side.
"Hey," Perry said to me, breathless. As if after three hours of working out in a gym, entering a sedan was the most strenuous thing ever. He sniffed the air surrounding him and had a quizzical look on his face. But he was wearing these obnoxiously huge sunglasses like that first lady made famous like, forty years ago or whatever so all I really saw was his huge, white smile.
"Are you wearing my cologne?" Perry's smile turned devious and would've turned me into goo if I was into those kinds of things. He kinda reminded me of a dog looking at its dinner bowl. Which now that I think about it, he gave me that look a lot. Maybe I should've paid more attention then. Huh.
"No, what? I just got out of the shower," I said, rustling my wet hair around to illustrate my point. "That's just me and whatever soap was in the shower." Perry still looked like he wanted to jump me, so I smiled uneasily. He just chuckled and looked down at my crotch. By now I was feeling pretty violated, without even having done anything.
Perry scooted over as best he could with the arm rest between the seats barricading him from me. Never had I been more thankful and also kind of disappointed in an arm rest. Except for that one day Harmony and I went to see Back To The Future III. I was definitely disappointed in that arm rest.
I couldn't tell what was going on inside my own body, but I was getting excited in this tiny little moment. Perry noticed this too, of course, because he's Perry. So then he goes and grabs my leg and don't ask me why, but I didn't move or anything. It's like my whole body wanted this to happen, whatever it was. My mind, on the other hand, was still trying to send out heterosexual vibes. Obviously to no avail, as Perry started stroking me through my track pants. They were the kind that had snaps down the side, but ripping them off right here in a stripper's fit of glory would definitely destroy the moment. Thankfully, Perry went for the more obvious choice: the zipper. Which was good because I'm easily excited, as Harmony could probably tell you, and a few more seconds I would've busted out of the pants on my own. As soon as I was exposed to the afternoon air, Perry jammed his head straight down. I swear you would think I was a gay target practice. Again, I wasn't freaking out. Okay, well I was. I was freaking out over why I wasn't freaking out.
You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? Well, my entire hetero lifestyle before now flashed before my eyes. I kept trying to shut my eyes in a vain attempt to like, hold onto them. But I have to say, it was a pretty incredible blowjob. I mean, I had to expect that a gay guy like Perry would be a master of sorts at this, and I know I'm not the most experienced with gay guys but fuck. Watching Perry's head bob up and down in the front seat of my car was gorgeous. I know that sounds cliche and whatever, but you try to explain your feelings during the best blowjob, unexpected and somehow unwanted, as it was.
Also, try remembering anything but feelings at the time. I mean, Perry's really, really good with his tongue...
Um, sorry.
After about two minutes-- I'm not winning any Tantric sex awards soon, I know-- I tried to warn Perry by grabbing his hair and pulling up, and you'd think he, of all people, would understand what that meant, but he just kept on like a fucking Hoover vacuum. So I shot my load into his mouth thinking, 'Great. Now I was probably going to get chewed out for not warning him.' Even though you and I know that Perry was the one not paying attention.
Instead Perry just looked up at me with death eyes and-- this part always fucking blows my mind, on top of the amazing blowjob. But Perry swallowed. Then he settled back into the passenger seat and looked straight out the front windshield like we were at a drive-in and he was missing the important end battle scene.
And fine, I'll admit I can fuck things up pretty well. I don't really think before I act. But there was something about Perry in that moment that made me need him immediately. I mean, it was already pretty fucking weird and the line was already pretty damn blurred. And I know the whole swallowing thing was probably another gay rule, but I lunged at Perry, grabbing at his face and trying to avoid the traces of my own cum on his face.
So now I'm like, kissing Perry. And oh yeah, poor me, right? I'm obviously enjoying this. The only thing that's flashing in my brain like a damn disco floor is the fact that I don't know where this is going and what to do if it goes, you know, into that gray, gay area. Although at this point it's pretty much 80% gay already so I decided that I was going to go along with it. Within five minutes Perry had somehow gotten my pants off, along with his own. Please do not ask why I thought this was a good idea, my being inexperienced at this sort of thing.
I'm not too sure of the details past this point. Perry asked something about whether I was okay with this, which confused me because one, he'd never asked me that before-- ever. And two, I thought my feelings were pretty clear by the way I wasn't five blocks down the road with my pants around my ankles. So I kissed him again, not knowing what else to do-- again, not the expert here.
Now, you know what Perry looks like-- well, even if you don't, the guy had just come from the gym. He's a hulking figure. And the car is pretty small so however he accomplished the feat of getting himself on top of me in that small... well, I don't know but in retrospect I'm pretty grateful for his flexibility.
So we all know what happened next, which believe me, was not how I pictured that day going at all. There was a lot of pulsating and throbbing and bumping and it was all Liberace in Harlequin novels and it's my ass and my private life so I'm not telling you the details. I'm just very thankful my car had very nice, dark, tinted LA-approved windows that day.
I didn't expect to still be employed after it did go that way, and well, I'm still living here... with Perry. Well, working and living.
Wait, does that make me like, his love slave or something? I mean, he writes my checks in the day and fucks me at night. But he pays me-- not for the fucking, obviously, but... I mean, I still like women.
I'm sorry. I have to go ask Perry something. But shit, you've been here long enough and your iTunes is still paused, isn't it? I already told the story, and it's not like there's a real end to it-- Perry and I are still together.
So whatever, go back to your previous underground mp3s and maybe next time I'll ask you about your sex life.
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"...and a ratty tank top that I've had for years that I think makes me look totally butch; Perry thinks it's the worst piece of fashion ever." -Yes Harry, you do. Perry, if you can install a gym and a pool into your home, o_o you can buy him new and sexier tank tops~
"Don't get me started on how long a day of shopping takes." -Lol, this made me giggle. Mostly because Harry's describing his duties as a husband to a wife, yet he's the total bottom (IMO).
There's a lot of other parts I love toooo, but I stopped myself from pasting them in, too much.
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I'm sure they go shopping a lot, Perry just never gets Harry to wear them. And yeah, Harry totally thinks he's the tough straight guy but we all know better.
Haha, why thank you! I always think my writing is only funny to me, so that's always nice to hear.
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I agonized over a lot of the Harration (love that term!) so it's great to see people liking it so much.
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You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? Well, my entire hetero lifestyle before now flashed before my eyes.
Love it! Write more, please!
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And second of all... is it pathetic that I actually turned off my iTunes?
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And great story. It's always nice to see the domestic sides of their life.
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