Life's Pageant
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Casts RPF › Monty Python
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,705
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Casts RPF › Monty Python
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,705
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Monty Python. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Six
***
Four years.
The year was 1968 and Terry was frustrated. He was livid. He was miserable. And he was lonely. He wanted to scream into Michael's face. They'd been writing partners for two years now, written for every single comedy programme in the BBC, spent practically every day of the last two years together and not a fucking thing. Had Michael forgotten? Or was he just doing this on purpose?
For four years, the two men had been pretending that the date, the kiss had never almost happened, and while Terry always enjoyed Michael's company it was becoming pure agony listening to him laugh and talk about his perfect, happy life.
Terry both loved and hated every minute of it. But that wasn't all that had been weighing on his mind.
Terry had been totally unprepared for the surprise David Frost had in store for him. Being picked to write Frost's show wasn't really anything to be happy about, as it seemed nobody could escape both the clutches of Oxford and Frost, but for Terry it was more of a fantastic disaster. Because another man had been picked as well. A man whom he'd met in his university days and had never quite been able to forget, a man with golden hair and graceful features and sparkling blue eyes, a man called Eric. Beautiful Eric. Beautiful, beautiful Eric. But straight. Not a chance.
And it only got worse... when they'd started writing for the Frost Report Terry couldn't help but notice one writer's particular interest in his friend. This writer's name was John Cleese and it was very clear that he fancied Michael. John was a thoroughly unlikeable person, a bully, a snob, and an intellectual. For some unknown reason, however, he and Michael got to be quite good friends, a fact which John never hesitated to flaunt in Terry's face.
And so it happened one day that Terry'd been invited along to the pub with the two of them, an offer he dearly wanted to resist but couldn't when it was accompanied by Michael's pleading voice.
He hadn't been told that there would be another joining them and was very surprised but also delighted to meet a man by the name of Graham Chapman. Graham was tall though slightly less tall than John, a sweet-mannered fellow with kind blue eyes and a pipe hanging out of his mouth. He greeted Terry with a demure 'Lo' and Terry returned it with a smile.
As the four sat drinking in their parlour it seemed that Graham became less interested in his drink and more interested in Terry. Michael was chatting to John and Terry let his gaze wander over to Graham's.
Graham gave him a strange smile, one that made Terry both nervous and intensely curious. He smiled back. They didn't look away for what must've been several minutes, then after a moment Terry felt something touch his foot. He absently began to nudge it back and when he finally realised it was Graham's foot his eyes snapped back onto Graham's.
They continued their game under the table unnoticed by the other two, who were it seemed also beginning to feel the effects of their drinks. Michael announced that it was time for him to be heading back home and Terry, feeling warmer and lighter than he had in a very long time, jovially suggested that John give him a ride home and he give Graham a ride.
Both parties set off in their cars, and as Terry's car started down the darkening street, he felt more liberated than ever. He suddenly felt Graham's lips on his neck.
His blood froze and began to pound through his body. He'd never done anything like this with another man; he'd kissed... but none of them had ever kissed him. He wondered if he should stop Graham. And he decided he wouldn't.
By the time they'd reached Graham's flat he had gotten the first few of Terry's shirt buttons undone and was sucking on Terry's earlobe. Terry let himself moan softly. Then he pushed Graham away, pushed open his door, walked round to Graham's, flung it open, grabbed Graham and dragged him up to the door of his flat. "Open it," he breathed at Graham, who proceeded to do that in a drunken lunge before realising he had to unlock it.
Once inside Graham slammed the door shut and pressed Terry against it. They started kissing wildly, crushing their mouths together, groaning, unbuttoning and unzipping and flinging clothes into the shadows of the room until Graham pulled Terry off the door and into the bedroom. Terry laid down on the bed naked watching Graham as he pulled off the last of his clothing.
Graham laid on top of Terry's body, kissed a trail down from Terry's neck to his cock and licked it; Terry moaned loud and bowed off the bed only to have his hips pinned back down. Graham's tongue continued downwards, to Terry's vast confusion, into the valley of his arse and the tight opening it surrounded. After a few more increasingly uneasy moans Graham pulled himself upwards with Terry's legs over his shoulders. He readied himself and stared down into Terry's intensely black eyes.
"Have you done this before?" asked Graham softly. A thousand answers battled in Terry's mind as he looked up at Graham. He was petrified. He wanted to push Graham away again. But he wanted this, even if he could never have Michael, he wanted to feel what it was like to be loved by another man. He forced a smile onto his face and whispered "I want to."
***
Four years.
The year was 1968 and Terry was frustrated. He was livid. He was miserable. And he was lonely. He wanted to scream into Michael's face. They'd been writing partners for two years now, written for every single comedy programme in the BBC, spent practically every day of the last two years together and not a fucking thing. Had Michael forgotten? Or was he just doing this on purpose?
For four years, the two men had been pretending that the date, the kiss had never almost happened, and while Terry always enjoyed Michael's company it was becoming pure agony listening to him laugh and talk about his perfect, happy life.
Terry both loved and hated every minute of it. But that wasn't all that had been weighing on his mind.
Terry had been totally unprepared for the surprise David Frost had in store for him. Being picked to write Frost's show wasn't really anything to be happy about, as it seemed nobody could escape both the clutches of Oxford and Frost, but for Terry it was more of a fantastic disaster. Because another man had been picked as well. A man whom he'd met in his university days and had never quite been able to forget, a man with golden hair and graceful features and sparkling blue eyes, a man called Eric. Beautiful Eric. Beautiful, beautiful Eric. But straight. Not a chance.
And it only got worse... when they'd started writing for the Frost Report Terry couldn't help but notice one writer's particular interest in his friend. This writer's name was John Cleese and it was very clear that he fancied Michael. John was a thoroughly unlikeable person, a bully, a snob, and an intellectual. For some unknown reason, however, he and Michael got to be quite good friends, a fact which John never hesitated to flaunt in Terry's face.
And so it happened one day that Terry'd been invited along to the pub with the two of them, an offer he dearly wanted to resist but couldn't when it was accompanied by Michael's pleading voice.
He hadn't been told that there would be another joining them and was very surprised but also delighted to meet a man by the name of Graham Chapman. Graham was tall though slightly less tall than John, a sweet-mannered fellow with kind blue eyes and a pipe hanging out of his mouth. He greeted Terry with a demure 'Lo' and Terry returned it with a smile.
As the four sat drinking in their parlour it seemed that Graham became less interested in his drink and more interested in Terry. Michael was chatting to John and Terry let his gaze wander over to Graham's.
Graham gave him a strange smile, one that made Terry both nervous and intensely curious. He smiled back. They didn't look away for what must've been several minutes, then after a moment Terry felt something touch his foot. He absently began to nudge it back and when he finally realised it was Graham's foot his eyes snapped back onto Graham's.
They continued their game under the table unnoticed by the other two, who were it seemed also beginning to feel the effects of their drinks. Michael announced that it was time for him to be heading back home and Terry, feeling warmer and lighter than he had in a very long time, jovially suggested that John give him a ride home and he give Graham a ride.
Both parties set off in their cars, and as Terry's car started down the darkening street, he felt more liberated than ever. He suddenly felt Graham's lips on his neck.
His blood froze and began to pound through his body. He'd never done anything like this with another man; he'd kissed... but none of them had ever kissed him. He wondered if he should stop Graham. And he decided he wouldn't.
By the time they'd reached Graham's flat he had gotten the first few of Terry's shirt buttons undone and was sucking on Terry's earlobe. Terry let himself moan softly. Then he pushed Graham away, pushed open his door, walked round to Graham's, flung it open, grabbed Graham and dragged him up to the door of his flat. "Open it," he breathed at Graham, who proceeded to do that in a drunken lunge before realising he had to unlock it.
Once inside Graham slammed the door shut and pressed Terry against it. They started kissing wildly, crushing their mouths together, groaning, unbuttoning and unzipping and flinging clothes into the shadows of the room until Graham pulled Terry off the door and into the bedroom. Terry laid down on the bed naked watching Graham as he pulled off the last of his clothing.
Graham laid on top of Terry's body, kissed a trail down from Terry's neck to his cock and licked it; Terry moaned loud and bowed off the bed only to have his hips pinned back down. Graham's tongue continued downwards, to Terry's vast confusion, into the valley of his arse and the tight opening it surrounded. After a few more increasingly uneasy moans Graham pulled himself upwards with Terry's legs over his shoulders. He readied himself and stared down into Terry's intensely black eyes.
"Have you done this before?" asked Graham softly. A thousand answers battled in Terry's mind as he looked up at Graham. He was petrified. He wanted to push Graham away again. But he wanted this, even if he could never have Michael, he wanted to feel what it was like to be loved by another man. He forced a smile onto his face and whispered "I want to."
***