Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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58. Martin Freeman 10

~“Martin,” you hiss from between your teeth as he gently shoves you into the furthest cubicle.
He continues smiling as he squeezes in after you and closes the door. He manoeuvres a hand behind his back to fumble for the lock to secure it.
Martin and you are enjoying a night out on town. You walk to the local theatre, satiated with a nice dinner and a couple of small drinks.
It had been a last minute decision for you two to go, but having had no other plans for the night neither objected. And it was a nice time to go; hardly anyone was there when you arrived. But as Martin discovered there was still 40 minutes left till the film started, he’d put on a mischievous smile and dragged you off to the basement level where the toilets were located. It was empty: most folk being in the salons or elsewhere enjoying a late Friday outing.
Suddenly, you let out a barely audible yelp as you almost fall over backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the toilet seat. But Martin holds onto you, his free arm in a tight grip around your waist, his front pressing suggestively against yours.
You manage to stay mostly upright, but the narrow cubicle was designed to fit one person only, and not a big one at that. You’re forced to arch your back away from Martin, causing your hips to press even firmer against his, and spread your legs on either side of the toilet to fit in with him standing in front of the door, the only space made for actually standing in.
As Martin turns his head to look back at you, having checked the lock was indeed turned, his smile turns from mischievous to a low, dark chuckle. You can’t help but to mimic it. He leans in and, without hesitation kisses you. You catch a quick glimpse of his dark blue eyes, wide with arousal, before his lips crush yours.
You raise your hands to grip the front of his jacket, to keep your knees from buckling completely, when his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Pliant, you part your lips and you’re immediately taken by the warmth of his tongue and the taste of scotch on it. You hum in approval, closing your eyes.
Martin’s other arm snakes around your shoulders and pulls you impossibly closer to him. His nose is being crushed against your pink, left cheek, and his hot breath makes your shiver with excitement. You start to feel even weaker in your knees and have to break the kiss. You have to take a moment to collect yourself before you can speak.
“Well, isn’t this romantic,” you say, still slightly out of breath, with a smile on your swollen, red lips.
Martin smiles back, leaning his forehead against yours.
“Indeed,” he whispers into your ear and pulls back your hair from your shoulder to kiss your neck.
You bury your nose in the crook of his in return and inhale the faint scent of your favourite cologne mixed with fresh air and second hand smoke from the pub.
My God, he smells delicious.
You take an extra whiff before tilting your head up a bit to nibble at his earlobe, making him grunt and unconsciously buck his hips harder against you.
Martin’s hands wander up your sides to rest against your breasts, cupping them perfectly in both hands. He starts to massage them, but you shift away from his touch. Instead you strip off your jacket and unbutton your blouse, letting them both slide down your arms and back onto the closed toilet lid. Martin stands as if paralyzed as he watches you unhook your black, see-through lace bra with one hand. But you leave it on, hanging from your shoulders.
“Care to do the honours?” you ask with pretended shyness, tilting your head to the side.
Martin’s hands instantly move to your shoulders to ever so slowly let one strap slide down at a time. You take the bra from his hands as it slides down your wrists and let it drop to the floor.
Martin lets out a long, satisfied sigh. He then leans forward and cups your breast again. He kisses your chest, your breasts and each nipple, staying to suck on one as his left hand drops to your arse. You roll your hips experimentally. In return you get a moan. Martin’s hot breath scatters over your breast as he closes his eyes.
“Martin,” you murmur, afraid to talk louder in case someone might walk in. “More.”
Martin immediately starts to struggle to get out of his jacket. You help him by tugging at its sleeves. It comes off soon enough and you let it drop to the floor. Luckily it’s a surprisingly clean one. But you don’t think about that now, not when Martin’s hands are sliding up your thighs, pulling up you skirt. His nose is ghosting over your collarbone followed by his tongue, leaving a streak of warm moisture on your skin wherever it makes contact.
You close your eyes and let your head fall back to allow him to continue upwards. He takes the invitation with eagerness. He kisses, licks and sucks the smooth skin of your stretched neck.
Blindly, you start to undo the button of Martin’s jeans. Martin notices and abruptly stops to straighten and look at you; first with a hint of surprise, but then that smile of his is back on his thin lips.
“In a hurry?” he asks and lets his eyes drop to your hands currently about to pull down his jeans.
You smile back at him and whisper, as seductively as you possibly can manage: “Fuck me.”
You proceed to lick your lips in hope of him kissing you again. They always get to you – Martin’s kisses. They do things to you that you never expected could be done only by lips and tongues meeting each other. You’ve never met another guy as good at kissing as Martin.
He takes the hint but doesn’t lean back in to locks his lips with yours. Instead he steps back and puts on a stern face.
“Sit,” he commands.
That single word, in that tone of authority, sends a spark of elevated interest through your nervous system and you can’t help but obey. You sit down on the edge of the toilet, simultaneously pulling down your knickers, and watch as Martin sinks to his knees in front of you.
He pushes your knees to your chest, forcing you to lean back with the top of your back against the water tank, and spreads them against the walls on either side of you so he can still see your face. Your skirt slides up into a heap of fabric around your waist. The cheeky bastard keeps smiling as he leans in and gives the inside of your right thigh a soft kiss. The light stubble which he’d neglected to shave off that morning tickles as he edges his lips down your leg, sending a shiver through your body.
Soon Martin’s tongue slides over your slit and into it. You gasp. Martin licks up the slit, pressing his tongue against your clit as he moves. Invitingly, you spread you legs as much as you can and slide further onto your back, pushing yourself closer to Martin’s face. Martin’s hands move further up your thighs, holding onto you firmly as he continues licking up and down.
Your legs are starting to tremble. You’re not used to this. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of sexual encounters, but none of them have been as generous and giving as Martin. He’s simply perfect.
You dig your hands into Martin’s short hair, pulling it back as his tongue digs deeper inside you, his nose pressing against your clit as he moves. He’s going agonisingly slow on purpose and you’re getting frustrated. You want more. You need more.
“Martin,” you cry out quietly, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Harder. Faster.”
He speeds up, his tongue now rubbing in a steady rhythm against your clit. His right hand slips down to join it, to rub harder. You pant, doing anything you can to keep yourself from squirming. You lock your left hand under your left leg to keep it up as your right hand slithers up your chest to cup your left breast. You start playing with the nipple, gently but firmly, twisting it between your fingers in rhythm with Martin’s laving.
You feel the tension rising in your body. You arch your back and let out small whimpers and moans as your exhale. You tense up more and more. Martin keeps going; he can probably feel your muscles start to tighten and tremble.
“Oh, yes,” you breathe.
You take one more breath and you can feel how your entire lower abdomen tenses, ready for the imminent burst. And as Martin’s tongue slides down your slit and into you, you feel a wetness fill you and drip down your arse cheeks. But Martin eagerly keeps up the pace as you pulse around him with the last of the orgasm.
You start to relax your body when he straightens himself and looks up at you.
“I’m sorry,” you begin, but he’s still smiling. You feel reassured by that alone, and right away smile back lazily. “That was… amazing.”
“I love you,” he says and gets back on his feet. He grabs a handful of toilet paper and wipes his face as clean as he can do without water. “Unfortunately, though,” he continues, looking down at you, biting his lower lip. “You’ve wet your shirt.”
You lean forward to look down between your legs, noticing that Martin was telling the truth. Unfortunate indeed, but on the other hand your jacket is still untouched, tucked further back behind you.
“Oh, well,” you sigh. You couldn’t care less at the moment.
Martin chuckles at your nonchalance and leans down to kiss you.
As his tongue slides over and around yours, your fingers hook in the waistband of his jeans and pants, and you pull. But you can only pull so far until you have to break the kiss again. Yet, reluctantly, you still do, because there is something else, now in the bright, fluorescent light, that is about to make your night a whole lot better.
You sweep your hands up Martin’s thighs, moving your face as close to his hard, leaking cock as possible without touching it. His knees seem to give way and he leans his back against the door.
You hum, looking closely at the reddened skin embracing the tip.
“I guess it’s time to return the favour,” you say, and lick up the drop of precum forming in the slit. Oh, how you love that taste of bitter, salty sweetness which is so hard to explain.
Martin closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open.
You push up his shirt and grab his hip with your left hand while your right hand takes a fir grip around the base of his cock. Martin lets out a silent gasp and you can feel his hips, involuntarily, trying to push forward. But you hold him back as you move your lips in soft kisses down the shaft. Your tongue slides around it, just next to the ring of your hand and then back up to swirl around the head.
Martin’s breathing is becoming heavier and slightly shakier.
You can’t help smiling. But you keep up your ministrations, sliding you tongue down his cock, up again and around the head.
“You taste lovely,” you sigh between licks and glance up at Martin from beneath your lashes.
Martin’s eyes are now locked with yours, his almost closed, but they widen as soon as your lips wrap around the tip of the erection in your grip and suck hard. You can hear his sharp intake of breath; you can see his chest rise and his stomach flatten. You keep your eyes on locked to his as you sink on the hard length. You can just fit half of it inside you before you feel it fill your mouth to the brim. You hum. It makes Martin’s hips jerk in surprise and from pleasure.
“Fuck,” he exhales, and throws his head back against he door.
You want to tease him more, but in the back of your mind you suddenly start to wonder how long you’ve been occupying the small toilet cubicle.
You realise you’ve stopped when Martin’s breathing steadies and he clears his throat.
Forgetting all about the time and place, you let your mind be filled with the present instead. You can feel the leaking of Martin’s precum increase, fill you up quickly, some of it already starting to escape past your lips and drip down your chin. You swallow, making him groan. His hands fly to the top of your head and dig into your hair, impaling you deeper onto his cock. You gag, not having learnt how to stop the action, and Martin loosens his grip. You hollow your cheeks a suck back an inch or two. Your saliva has started dripping out as well, mixing with the fluids slowly running down the shaft and dripping onto the floor. You look down, mesmerised as it creates a little pool between Martin’s feet. Only seconds later, you shift your eyes back up to Martin’s and nod as you let go of the grip on his hip and around the base of his cock. You place your hands instead on either side of him against the door. You suck back up to the head and lick up what fluids there are along the rock hard erection.
“It’s okay,” you say, still watching Martin watch you. “Take me.”
You place you lips back around the tip and suck down. Martin thrusts experimentally to see how much of his cock actually fits in your mouth, and down your throat. Not all of it, of course, but a good deal.
Martin soon starts thrusting in earnest. Now and then he hits the back of your throat, making you gag. But you’re not complaining: you want him to feel good – as good as you felt a moment ago. His eyes fall shut yet again as his pace speeds up. His breathing shudders as he pants.
It doesn’t take long before he’s doubled up on top of you, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he comes down your throat. For a moment you can’t breathe, but you hold on until Martin’s finished.
When you feel him starting to relax you swallow and he leans back, still out of breath.
You suck up the slowly deflating shaft once more, making sure you scoop up all the cum with your tongue as you go.
“Wow,” Martin breathes, still unable to form proper sentences.
“It was my pleasure,” you reply with a soft smile, knowing what he means.
“Mine too,” he chuckles.
You both get dressed a moment later, wiped off of any sticky substances, before you exit the toilet.
Your wet blouse is tucked inside your spacious handbag. You feel a bit exposed wearing only a bra underneath your jacket, but no one would notice unless you unzip it so you try to behave as normal as possible.
As you step out, one after the other, you realise how late it is. You’ve surely missed half the film already. Yet there’s nothing you can do but grin as you walk, hand in hand, with Martin, into the salon to enjoy what you’ve got left to see. But you know, as you’ve already missed so much, that the rest of the film won’t be spent actually watching it.
 

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