A Fuckton of Polygrumps

Egoplier: Hot Friend

Synopsis: Is there anyone who doesn't want to fuck Markiplier? No one in the Grump crew is more honest about it than Arin. Someone requested Egoplier :3

How does a man simultaneously have the cuteness of a huge puppy and the sex appeal of a god-like Adonis? It was almost infuriating to think about.

Arin sat at his desk, scrolling through RedBubble for more Sailor Moon pastel t-shirts, which he often did when he wasn't super busy. The office was fairly quiet considering everyone was milling about busily.

"Hey, guys," Mark called as he practically kicked the door open.

His muscles glistened with sweat and his t-shirt/basketball shorts combo indicated that he'd been working out. Arin was practically drooling at this point. Mark seemed to have that effect on most people. He was no exception.

"I think I left my headphones here," Mark continued, dabbing at his forehead with a towel.

"They might be on the floor," Arin replied, already down on his hands and knees. "I swept off a bunch of shit in a rage yesterday so I can help you look."

Mark couldn't help but stare at Arin's ass. Tumblr was right: it was impressive to say the least. The shorts he wore were particularly tight that day and it was messing with Mark's head. He was admittedly an ass man.

Arin grinned the sort of grin that meant he knew he had someone's attention. He looked at Dan that way all the time. It was rewarding to see Mark admiring him even if he didn't know he was doing it. Mark was incredibly oblivious that way.

"What are you staring at," Arin inquired, crawling further under the desk because he genuinely had no idea where Mark's headphones were among all the clutter.

"Hm? What?"

Mark felt his face flush. He'd been standing there with his mouth agape, just gawking at Arin's backside. His mind swam from trying to remember where he left his headphones to how fuckable Arin looked when he was bent over like that. His mind was clearly not where it was supposed to be and Arin could read him like an open book.

"It ain't gonna fuck itself," Arin said flatly, not bothering to look back.

"Ha. Ha," Mark replied, trying to figure out if that tone was meant to be a serious invitation or excellently executed sarcasm.

Arin finally stood up and shoved Mark back into his desk chair. He knelt down and tugged Mark's cock free from the loose shorts.

"You make me do everything myself," Arin whined, feigning disappointment despite his glee. "You come in here sweaty as fuck, demanding your headphones and I help you look for them like the good friend I am. You just stand there and watch while I'm looking for them. Un-fucking-believable. And you're already so hard..."

Mark's face flushed yet again. He was mostly grateful for the fact that Arin took initiative so he didn't have to. Still, it was difficult not to be embarrassed by how desperate and hard he already was. He let out delicious moans as Arin toyed with his cock, one hand stroking tenderly while his tongue worked the tip.

"Someone might see us," Mark panted, his voice low and incredibly orgasmic.

"It's your fault for staring at my ass," Arin shot back before sliding the head of Mark's cock into his mouth and down his throat. "The fuck was I supposed to do?" He went on between breaths.

"F-fucking...Jesus..." Mark panted, grabbing hold of Arin's hair.

As much as he wanted to keep his composure, the dreamy bedroom eyes Arin kept giving him made it absolute impossible. Mark tightened his grip on Arin's silky hair, his teeth gritted as he forced his whole shaft into his mouth. A very small part of Mark's conscience wanted to feel bad for exploiting this good friend of his. But no. This wasn't exploitation. It was Arin's fault for looking so delicious. In his head, Mark refused to apologize. It's not like his lips could say much, anyway. All that came out were desperate, stifled moans.

"Don't you have work to do," Mark muttered between moans.

"You think taking this fuckin' horse cock isn't work," Arin demanded, feigning offense. "You're the absolute worst, mister."

"N-no, I meant-"

"Y'know what? You wanna see a bitch multitask? C'mere," Arin persisted, shimmying out of his own slouchy harem pants.

Mark cautiously moved forward in the desk chair until Arin sat back on his lap, the elastic fabric of his boxers pressed up against Mark's straining erection. Arin smirked, feeling especially happy to elicit moans from Mark's dry throat.

"Gonna answer some emails to shut you up since you're so worried about my getting work done," Arin continued with a scoff, looking at his computer screen.

"W-well, y'know..." Mark breathed, thrusting his dick between his hand and Arin's ass. "It's what friends do or whatever."

"And we're great friends," Arin purred, only slightly moving his hips enough to give Mark some tantalizing friction. "Oh! Here's an email from Brian, Mark, look! We should send him a picture, huh?"

"Don't," Mark huffed, his breath heavy and labored as Arin ground up against his cock more. "I don't need him holding this over my head after last time."

"That's cute," Arin snorted. "Acting like you're not turned on by being humiliated."

"S-shut up..."

Mark wasn't sure how much more he could take. Between the way Arin was talking to him and the amazing sense of warmth that built in his stomach with arousal, he was sweating bullets. He pressed one hand against his cock, desperate for more friction. He thrust harder, his cock between his hand and Arin's ass. His breath was increasingly heavy and it didn't help that Arin was definitely a loud moaner. The only solace Mark had was that Arin looked just as desperate and sweaty, stroking himself with one hand and using his other to grip Mark's thigh for balance.

"Let me-" Mark panted, his erection stiffening to a painful degree.

"Nah, way too easy," Arin cut in coldly, looking over his shoulder with a devious grin. "I can't beliiiiieve you thought I'd let you fuck with me before you took me out to dinner," he gasped, feigning disdain despite the huge grin on his face.

"Fucking-"

"Not too loud, Mister Markiplier! We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves, would we?"

"You're a fucking asshole."

"And talk like that is why you're not fucking my asshole, mister."

Arin was entering Ross-levels of sadism and he suddenly understood why Ross was always so delighted by his own antics. Torturing Mark like this gave him a new kind of arousal that he was unaccustomed to. And he was loving it.

"Close already, huh? Well, there's no use in fucking me now, is there?" He went on, slowing the movement of his hips just enough to piss Mark off.

Mark himself was too far gone to even reply coherently. He grunted, standing up and pressing Arin against the desk.

"Hey, easy, you clod! If you break my keyboard-" Arin hissed.

Mark didn't even hear him. He threw his insecurity and fear of being seen to the wind and now focused on achieving the orgasm he deserved. He thrust roughly against Arin's ass, gripping his arms for leverage. He might've tried checking on Arin to make sure he hadn't hit his face on anything on his desk. He couldn't tell if any words came out. He wanted so badly to last longer but the mixture of taunting and pent-up desire was hitting him like a train. He bit down on his lip and thrust a bit more until his orgasm finally hit maximum capacity. He didn't realize how much he came all over Arin's back until Arin groaned and pulled off his shirt.

"You're taking this home with you and you're washing it," he breathed, hitting Mark in the chest with the shirt.

"Yeah...um, sorry about that," Mark grunted, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "I mean, to be fair, it was kind of your fault."

"Listen here, bitch. Look in the mirror. We both know whose fault this was."

"Are...are you calling me pretty?"

"Get the fuck out of my office."