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Dan & Ross - Game Grumps Fanfiction


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Immediate disclaimer: I DIDN'T WRITE THIS. I found this on the Game Grumps kink meme at Livejournal. Unfortunately, all posts on the page are anonymous, so I can't give credit to an author (I wish I could, they did a great job), but I highly recommend checking out the page at http://kinkgrumps.livejournal.com/ 

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did... ;)

 

 

“Jesus, Ross, are you okay?” Dan’s voice wavers with an unsure giggle. They’ve spent almost an entire episode just trying to beat this one boss—well, Ross has been trying, Dan has mostly been laughing and watching him get continually destroyed. Ross’ anger has been steadily increasing with every game over; his grip on the controller is now tight enough that his knuckles are tinged with white, the line of his jaw even more prominent than usual as he grits his teeth.

Though that’s all been perfectly amusing on its own, the last five minutes or so, Ross has proven himself absolutely incapable of being still. Dan assumes it’s frustration at first when he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting the way he’s sitting as if he just can’t get comfortable, but now his leg is bouncing up and down furiously and he’s making a hissing noise, noisily sucking in air between his teeth.

“Fuck, man, I really need to pee.” The jiggling of his right leg is sending vibrations through the entire couch, and Dan laughs again when he briefly switches to jiggle the left, only to return back to the right again.

“Yeah, dude, I can tell—” Dan cuts himself off with a snort when Ross makes a frustrated groan as he’s killed yet again. “You’re doing the dance five year olds do when they have to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, I gotta go bad!” The boss battle has barely restarted for what Dan figures must be at least the twentieth time now when Ross’ character is hit with a blow that leaves him just barely alive. “Oh, fuck you!” He yells at the TV as he outright lifts his hips off the couch just to slam back down onto it again.

It only takes two more hits before he’s dead again. Dan’s laughter bubbles over, “Well then, next time on Steam Train maybe we can—”

“No, no, stop, don’t—we’re not—it’s not over. We’re still going.”

Dan shoots a surprised look in Ross’ direction, one he misses as the battle restarts again and he begins mashing the controller buttons angrily. “Dude, we’re already at fifteen minutes, are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure, I’m not gonna break, not gonna stop til I kill this fucking—piece of shit!” Another devastating blow. “I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill his whole fucking family!”

“Ross—“ Dan shakes his head as Ross starts weirdly gyrating his hips again and making a soft, low noise from the back of his throat. “I think you’re gonna piss yourself first.”

“I fucking might, dude!”

There’s no sound but Ross angrily smashing at the controller as Dan takes a moment’s pause. That had almost sounded—like a threat? Or a promise? Sweeping his hair out of his face with a sigh, he tries to focus on the game, to just watch Ross’ character narrowly avoid certain death.

But it’s hard, it’s really fucking hard to try and keep his eyes glued to the screen when Ross is squirming and making small, aggravated noises. And even if he’s not looking, they’re in close enough quarters that Dan can feel everything; the way Ross shifts and circles his hips and wiggles his ass and grinds into the couch. His motions are rhythmless, of course, but they’re so desperate, and punctuated with little grunts and whines of frustration and pure need.

“Come on, you fucking bitch—die, die—” Ross whispers angrily, and Dan instantly regrets glancing over at him. He’s rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing heavy, his hips shuddering and both his legs shaking in tandem. 

“FUCK YOU!” Killed again; when Ross shouts and then makes another loud, frustrated groan, Dan watches as his face heats up, his cheeks practically burning red. Dan reflexively presses his thighs together and tries to focus on anything else, knowing full well that he’s not going to have a good time if he has to explain popping a boner in a situation like this.

Words and noises alike, everything spilling out of Ross’ mouth is filthy as he tries the battle yet again and continues his losing streak. Dan realizes it’s been ages since he’s said anything, but as he opens his mouth Ross outright whimpers—a high, clear noise so pornographic Dan thinks he might be blushing just from hearing it.

 

When he meets his inevitable demise again, Ross momentarily drops one side of the controller, shoving his free hand directly between his legs and pressing firmly on his crotch. He’s nothing but breathy noises now, hissing and letting air out in large gasping sighs, but when the battle starts up again he gets both hands back on the controller.

It’s so quiet at first that Dan almost thinks he’s making it up. “Get me a bottle.”

“I, uh—what?”

“I’m not gonna make it, Dan, seriously, I’ve gotta piss so fucking bad—get me a bottle. Or a jar! Something!” Ross’ eyes never leave the screen as he gives the instructions, and Dan’s honestly thankful that he won’t see the growing problem in his pants as he leaps up from the couch and searches the room as quickly as he can.

“Ross—” He shoves things over on the desk, searches behind the couch, lets his eyes scan the room for anything that could even come close, to no avail. “Shit, dude, I can’t find anything, there’s nothing, I’m—”

“Danny—” Ross chokes out another noise, pressing the buttons of the controller furiously. “I’m gonna—”

“You’re what, you’re gonna what?!” When he hears a noise from the television that isn’t the same “Game Over” tune he swears he’s heard a thousand times, Danny looks over his shoulder to see the boss on the ground, finally defeated, victorious music swelling in the background. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath as Ross drops the controller to the ground, Dan smiles. Maybe that’s what he meant, that winning was what he was gonna—

Dan can’t do anything but watch as Ross shoves his hand back between his legs and rocks forward, unable to stop himself. With a gasp for air and a long, hoarse groan, he drops his head back and wets himself, eyes shut, back arched, right there on the couch. Dan swallows hard and watches the damp wet spot grow on the crotch of Ross’ jeans, hyper-aware of how painfully he’s pressing against his own zipper.

Ross’ eyes fly open as he tapers off, his gaze meeting Danny’s for a second before he glances down at himself. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit—” He’s up and moving quickly for the doorway, and Dan almost trips over his own two feet barreling around the other side of the couch, but his long legs bring him there a second earlier.

He presses his hand firmly against the door before Ross can try to wrench it open, and when Ross whips around to hiss at him, Dan swallows it in a kiss. Beneath him, he feels Ross almost instantly melt back against the door, but after a few seconds the soft smacking of their lips is punctuated by a little whine from Ross. Dan lets the path of his mouth move and dips his head to follow the curve of Ross’ neck. 

It’s not that they haven’t done this before, but Ross would be embarrassed enough to be seen like this in front of a regular friend, let alone a part-time sex friend. His face flushes hot as he tries to suppress another small noise, ashamed to be enjoying the attention.

“Danny, please, I’m—”

“I know.” Dan’s breath is warm on the skin of Ross’ neck, and he nips gently at his pulse point. “It was pretty fuckin’ hot.”

Ross opens his mouth to tell Danny that it isn’t funny, that it’s too soon to start joking about the fact that he just openly pissed himself, that God, he’s so embarrassed; but Dan’s hand is running over his waist and then down to tease at the soaked-through crotch of his jeans. The only thing Ross can do is moan in response and slam his head back against the door when Dan pops the button of his fly open single-handedly.

Shoving Ross’ jeans down his hips, Dan palms gently over Ross’ wet boxers to work at him, coax him until he’s fully hard and the outline of his cock is obscenely detailed against the damp fabric. His lips moves along Ross’ skin; he’s kissing and biting and licking up his neck and along his jaw, then sucking the lobe of his ear into his mouth.

“Danny—” Ross tries again, voice thick with want. “What—are you really—” He practically chokes on another gasp when Dan’s teeth just barely graze over the shell of his ear. The heat of his breath there makes Ross whimper and rock into his touch, every nerve in his body set alight.

 

“God, you have no idea how good you looked, do you? How desperate?” Dan’s voice is dark and low and right in Ross’ ear. “All that squirming, and grinding, and bouncing—do you even have any idea how much that turned me on?”

Dan just barely parts his legs and shifts forward, trapping Ross’ thigh between both of his. He circles his hips to grind himself against Ross’ leg, and Ross suddenly has a very good idea of how much it turned him on. With a low hiss, Dan presses himself into Ross’ thigh again, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of Ross’ boxers to fish him out.

Ross groans at Dan’s firm grip as he feels errant beads of precome rolling down his shaft, soaking him even further.

“Yeah, Ross—” Dan’s moan is a hoarse whisper as he starts to stroke him, letting the thrusts of his hips against Ross’ thigh fall into the same rhythm. “You—you don’t even know, don’t even know how badly I wanted—God, just wanted to pull you on top of me, have you move your hips like that for me. Be desperate like that for me—fucking lose yourself like that, all over me, Ross.”

“Jesus, Danny,” Ross tips his head back against the door and eagerly bucks up into Dan’s touch as he picks up speed. The feeling of Dan rutting against his thigh and the filthy things he’s groaning into his ear are bringing Ross undone remarkably fast. He can tell by how ragged Dan’s breathing has become that he’s not too far off either.

“Would you do that for me, Ross?”

Ross whimpers as Dan pumps him, thumb swiping methodically over his head with each upstroke. When he digs his nails into Dan’s arm he can outright feel Dan’s cock twitch against his thigh, and it urges Ross so close to the edge that his vision starts to blur out.

“God, fuck—could you let it all go for me, Ross? Just fucking—release like that, for me?”

The pace of Dan’s hand working his shaft is grueling, and Ross squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah, God—fuck yes. I could—I would, I would do that—” He tapers off, hips rocking just as urgently as Dan is against his leg. “Shit—” Ross hisses, “gonna come so fucking hard, Danny.”

Dan sucks briefly into the crook of his neck, his lips and hot breath hover against Ross’ skin when he speaks. “Yeah?” He drifts up towards Ross’ ear again and practically purrs, “Gonna add to that fucking mess you made?”

Ross swears loudly as his climax rips through him; he comes so hard he almost blacks out, comes so hard his legs tremble and threaten to give way completely. He clings to Dan’s biceps as he arches up into his touch, his come spilling over both of them and soaking his still-damp crotch further. 

With a few more thrusts and quiet grunts of “yes, God, Ross, fucking perfect”, Dan’s following after him, dropping his head down on Ross’ shoulder and whimpering and God, Ross can immediately feel the wet patch forming against his thigh. It makes him shiver, how much it turns him on, his face flushing hot—and then even hotter at the thought that Dan just asked Ross to piss on him, and that he knows he absolutely would.

Dan pulls away to see Ross glancing up at him, his pupils blown and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth again. When his eyes travel downward to watch Ross tuck himself back into his boxers and to take in the dark damp patch on his jeans, the only way Dan can react is to kiss him. It’s a soft, gentle brush against his lips.

“That was so hot,” Ross murmurs when Dan just barely pulls back, their mouths still hovering inches from each other.

“You’re amazing,” is all Dan can think to say. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

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