Fic: Lovers in the Backseat
Jun. 13th, 2010 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withthepilotTitle: Lovers in the Backseat
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Star Trek XI RPF
Pairing: Chris/Karl
Word count: 2K
Summary: Karl's original plan was to have sex with Chris on their group camping trip. Change of plans.
A/N: Written for the third round of Kink Bingo on DW. Prompt: vehicular. Reworked and expanded from a short comment fill over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
jim_and_bones and posted with the permission of the KB mods.Title from a track by the Scissor Sisters.
Karl blinks awake when the car comes to a stop. He remembers where he is when he feels the familiar brown leather of the backseat under his hands and hears the ding-ding-ding of the driver's door opening, which abruptly halts when it closes again. The engine's still on and Karl can see the time on the car's dashboard. He's been asleep for over an hour and presumably, he and Chris still can't find this damn campsite.
He looks out the back windshield and spies Chris talking to some kid. They both seem absolutely puzzled. Chris pulls out the map from his pocket so they can take a look. Karl has to laugh. That fucking map. Chris borrowed it from his dad and it's so out of date that they completely gave up on any hope of deciphering the damn thing. Karl faces forward again and yawns as he stretches his arms out in front of him, his hands clasped together. It probably wasn't a good idea to get in the backseat, seeing as how his muscles are all cramped and knotty now. But he's been up since seven and this drive has officially taken five hours longer than Quinto said it would. Fucking Quinto.
In a way, it's nice to be in the backseat. Comforting. Karl fell asleep earlier to the sight of Chris smiling at him in the rearview mirror, quietly singing along to a track on an old mix CD, a song Karl had never heard but was melodic enough. Chris' voice was low and soothing and Karl let it wash over him, along with the subtle vibrations of the moving vehicle, all of it lulling him to sleep after a long day of driving.
Chris climbs back into the driver's seat with a clamor and tosses the unfolded map onto the passenger seat, on top of the discarded Mapquest directions Zach gave them. More like Crapquest, Chris said, once they officially stopped making sense. Karl looks up, his wrists at rest on the top of the worn leather. He takes the opportunity to poke Chris' shoulder.
"Did the boy detective help?" he asks.
Chris snorts. "Not really. He said we probably drove an hour in the wrong direction and there's no way in hell I'm turning back again." He turns to peer at Karl, all bright eyes and scruffy cheeks. "I texted Zach to tell him we're not gonna make it. And that his directions sucked ass."
"That's too bad," Karl says. He runs his thumb idly along Chris' jaw, tilting his head. The dark stubble prickles against the callused pad of Karl's thumb, sending sparks along the length of his arm. "You look all rugged and ready for a camping trip."
Chris grins and leans into the touch. "Well, we don't have to let it go to waste. The kid said there's another camping ground about two miles down the road from here. I can drive if you're up for it."
Karl considers it. While a part of him wants to find a motel or head back home, they do have all their camping equipment in the trunk. Plus, he's been looking forward to sharing a sleeping bag with the brat, ever since Chris talked him into going in the first place with his speech on the "benefits" of camping. He'd feel bad if he deprived the kid.
"Right," he says, patting Chris' shoulder. "Let's go, then. But if you get lost and your eyes get tired, we're finding a motel."
"Sure thing, dad." Chris puts the car into reverse, slinging one arm over the passenger seat. "Now buckle up."
Chris drives and Karl stays in the back, almost ready to nod off again. But this time, he keeps himself awake by staring at the flex of Chris' biceps in that obscenely tight T-shirt. He notes Chris' subtle movements as he steers, his slender hands strong and steady on the wheel. Karl thinks about getting into the driver's seat with Chris, straddling his lap so his own ass presses against the wheel. He entertains the entirely pleasant idea of pushing the maroon-colored cotton up Chris' broad chest and licking at every exposed inch of skin he can find, holding him down and tonguing his sensitive nipples until Chris is panting, his mouth open and his hips jerking involuntarily against Karl's, and—
"Jesus," Chris mutters, breaking the silence. Karl swallows hard, dismissing all previous thoughts. He looks up and sees that Chris' gaze is locked on him via the rearview. "You seriously look like you're undressing me with your eyes."
"That's probably because I am." Karl smirks, draping his arms over the top of the backseat. "You look good driving my car."
"I look good driving any car," Chris quips.
"I won't deny that," Karl says, smiling. "But it's different. I've had this car for ages; it's like an extension of me. Watching you drive it is...an intimate experience."
Chris nods slowly as if he's game. "So, the car is you? And you like the way I handle you?" He tosses a grin back at Karl, then looks back at the road. "Like the way I hug those curves?"
"You're going overboard now. You're liable to distract me."
"From what? I'm the one who should be paying attention, here."
Karl glances at Chris' hand on the column shifter. "From thinking of all the things I'm going to do to that gorgeous body of yours once the car stops."
"Yeah?" Chris' eyes dart frantically between the mirror and the pavement that stretches ahead of them. The road is deserted, save for their car.
"Yeah." Karl drops one hand to rub at the inseam of his jeans. He grins when he sees Chris lick his lips in the reflection of the mirror, his grip on the shifter growing tight. "That shirt doesn't leave much to the imagination, you know. I'm trying to decide if I should leave it on or off while I suck on you."
"Suck on me," Chris repeats. His face is flushed and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. His laughter bears a significant tinge of arousal around the edges. "What, like road head? I don't think you want me to crash your precious car, man."
Karl starts to palm himself openly, spreading his thighs apart. "You wouldn't, but that's not what I want. I'd rather lay you down back here, so I can have full access to all of you."
"I—all of me?"
"That's what I said. So I can have my fill of the entire length of your body. My hands on your waist, running down your thighs..." Karl gives his cock a squeeze through the denim of his jeans, barely managing to hold back a moan. He gets another jolt of arousal when Chris hits a shallow pothole and the framework of the car jerks beneath him. "My mouth on your nipples, your hipbones, your long, luscious cock..."
"Okay, fuck this shit."
The car swerves suddenly and Karl has to grab the door handle to keep upright. His heart is going a mile a minute and continues to beat frantically, even after the car's stopped. When he looks up again, he sees that they're in a dark, wooded area, completely secluded, surrounded by utter blackness. Karl sucks in a shaky breath and turns to Chris, to make sure he's okay. He's not yet sure whether or not that sudden veer off the road was intentional. Chris unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs over the front seat, and Karl feels drawn to the heated look in his eyes. Then Chris' strong, sculpted arms, which Karl was admiring just a few moments ago, push him flat on his back and hold him there. Heat blossoms through Karl's groin when Chris' hips press against his and he groans, suddenly all too aware of how much he needs this, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
"The campsite?" Karl asks with a gasp, though he couldn't care less.
"Fuck it. We're doing it right here. I can't fucking drive when you're talking like that," Chris says. He fumbles to get Karl's jeans open. "Get us killed like that."
"You didn't say stop," Karl counters. He gets his wits back long enough to open up Chris' fly as well, sliding his hand beneath the denim to feel the pulsing heat inside.
"Fuck." Chris' voice is a clipped snarl. He thrusts once into Karl's grip and pins him with wickedly blue eyes. "You ever had sex in this car?" he asks.
"You kidding? Plenty of times."
"Yeah?" He licks his lips, eyes wide. Karl watches the dirty drag of his tongue, entranced. "How many times have you come on this seat?"
"Too many to count. Now stop asking questions."
Karl uses his free hand to push Chris' shirt up and expose his chest, just as he imagined doing. He licks hotly across Chris' left nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud to get it nice and tight before he sucks in earnest. Chris arches and cries out loudly, pressing one palm flat against the roof of the car, smacking it as if it's been bad. Karl swears he can feel the car shudder in response.
"Jesus, no, ahh—stop," Chris demands. His voice is hoarse, desperate, and loud in the confined space. There's something about the lack of maneuvering room that makes everything more urgent, more intense, and Karl can tell that Chris feels it, too. "I can't wait anymore," Chris pants. "I need..."
Karl drops his head back and nods his understanding. He carefully extracts both of their cocks from their confines without looking, briefly holding them together in his warm, sweaty grip. The first touch is electric. Chris' length is rigid and flushed, hot and demanding as it slides against Karl's. He curses and pulls the brat down for a messy kiss because he needs to dip his tongue into that gorgeous mouth and get a taste. They rut against each other frantically, breaths shallow and warm as words become unnecessary. Chris' fingers clench in Karl's hair and their mouths collide again and again in hungry kisses. Karl settles for wrapping his hand around Chris' bicep, his hair shorn too short to get a good grip. He remembers the flex of Chris' arms as he drove, the way he guided the car so easily, and he pulls Chris closer.
The air around them grows heavy with sweat and the promise of release. Karl's almost there when Chris rucks his blue T-shirt up and bears down so their nipples catch. Chris' chest is still damp from the tongue laving Karl gave him and that's just too sexy to fucking believe. Karl thinks wet, hot and he opens his eyes to the sight of Chris' ruddy cheeks, sweat dripping from his temples. It's too much; he comes with a shout, grabbing at Chris' ass for purchase. Chris flexes his muscles under Karl's hand, as if to clue him in. Karl pushes down on the round swell of one buttock, forcing Chris to fuck against his abs over and over, until Chris' glassy blue eyes roll back and he shoots all over Karl's bare torso.
"Shit," Chris whispers a few moments later. He breathes hard into the crook of Karl's neck. Karl nods his agreement and reaches up to crack a window open. Then he hears a buzzing noise coming from below. He reaches down to the car floor and finds Chris' phone, which likely fell from his pocket during the proceedings. There's a new text.
"You got a reply from Quinto," Karl says.
"Yeah? What's it say?"
"'My directions were fine. You suck ass. Karl Urban's ass.'"
Chris yawns and wedges his body between the padding of the backseat and Karl's side. "Maybe later," he murmurs.
Karl shuts his eyes and smiles, draping an arm around Chris' middle. He spares a thought for the camping equipment in the car boot. Looks like it's going to waste after all.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Star Trek XI RPF
Pairing: Chris/Karl
Word count: 2K
Summary: Karl's original plan was to have sex with Chris on their group camping trip. Change of plans.
A/N: Written for the third round of Kink Bingo on DW. Prompt: vehicular. Reworked and expanded from a short comment fill over at
jim_and_bones and posted with the permission of the KB mods.Title from a track by the Scissor Sisters.Karl blinks awake when the car comes to a stop. He remembers where he is when he feels the familiar brown leather of the backseat under his hands and hears the ding-ding-ding of the driver's door opening, which abruptly halts when it closes again. The engine's still on and Karl can see the time on the car's dashboard. He's been asleep for over an hour and presumably, he and Chris still can't find this damn campsite.
He looks out the back windshield and spies Chris talking to some kid. They both seem absolutely puzzled. Chris pulls out the map from his pocket so they can take a look. Karl has to laugh. That fucking map. Chris borrowed it from his dad and it's so out of date that they completely gave up on any hope of deciphering the damn thing. Karl faces forward again and yawns as he stretches his arms out in front of him, his hands clasped together. It probably wasn't a good idea to get in the backseat, seeing as how his muscles are all cramped and knotty now. But he's been up since seven and this drive has officially taken five hours longer than Quinto said it would. Fucking Quinto.
In a way, it's nice to be in the backseat. Comforting. Karl fell asleep earlier to the sight of Chris smiling at him in the rearview mirror, quietly singing along to a track on an old mix CD, a song Karl had never heard but was melodic enough. Chris' voice was low and soothing and Karl let it wash over him, along with the subtle vibrations of the moving vehicle, all of it lulling him to sleep after a long day of driving.
Chris climbs back into the driver's seat with a clamor and tosses the unfolded map onto the passenger seat, on top of the discarded Mapquest directions Zach gave them. More like Crapquest, Chris said, once they officially stopped making sense. Karl looks up, his wrists at rest on the top of the worn leather. He takes the opportunity to poke Chris' shoulder.
"Did the boy detective help?" he asks.
Chris snorts. "Not really. He said we probably drove an hour in the wrong direction and there's no way in hell I'm turning back again." He turns to peer at Karl, all bright eyes and scruffy cheeks. "I texted Zach to tell him we're not gonna make it. And that his directions sucked ass."
"That's too bad," Karl says. He runs his thumb idly along Chris' jaw, tilting his head. The dark stubble prickles against the callused pad of Karl's thumb, sending sparks along the length of his arm. "You look all rugged and ready for a camping trip."
Chris grins and leans into the touch. "Well, we don't have to let it go to waste. The kid said there's another camping ground about two miles down the road from here. I can drive if you're up for it."
Karl considers it. While a part of him wants to find a motel or head back home, they do have all their camping equipment in the trunk. Plus, he's been looking forward to sharing a sleeping bag with the brat, ever since Chris talked him into going in the first place with his speech on the "benefits" of camping. He'd feel bad if he deprived the kid.
"Right," he says, patting Chris' shoulder. "Let's go, then. But if you get lost and your eyes get tired, we're finding a motel."
"Sure thing, dad." Chris puts the car into reverse, slinging one arm over the passenger seat. "Now buckle up."
Chris drives and Karl stays in the back, almost ready to nod off again. But this time, he keeps himself awake by staring at the flex of Chris' biceps in that obscenely tight T-shirt. He notes Chris' subtle movements as he steers, his slender hands strong and steady on the wheel. Karl thinks about getting into the driver's seat with Chris, straddling his lap so his own ass presses against the wheel. He entertains the entirely pleasant idea of pushing the maroon-colored cotton up Chris' broad chest and licking at every exposed inch of skin he can find, holding him down and tonguing his sensitive nipples until Chris is panting, his mouth open and his hips jerking involuntarily against Karl's, and—
"Jesus," Chris mutters, breaking the silence. Karl swallows hard, dismissing all previous thoughts. He looks up and sees that Chris' gaze is locked on him via the rearview. "You seriously look like you're undressing me with your eyes."
"That's probably because I am." Karl smirks, draping his arms over the top of the backseat. "You look good driving my car."
"I look good driving any car," Chris quips.
"I won't deny that," Karl says, smiling. "But it's different. I've had this car for ages; it's like an extension of me. Watching you drive it is...an intimate experience."
Chris nods slowly as if he's game. "So, the car is you? And you like the way I handle you?" He tosses a grin back at Karl, then looks back at the road. "Like the way I hug those curves?"
"You're going overboard now. You're liable to distract me."
"From what? I'm the one who should be paying attention, here."
Karl glances at Chris' hand on the column shifter. "From thinking of all the things I'm going to do to that gorgeous body of yours once the car stops."
"Yeah?" Chris' eyes dart frantically between the mirror and the pavement that stretches ahead of them. The road is deserted, save for their car.
"Yeah." Karl drops one hand to rub at the inseam of his jeans. He grins when he sees Chris lick his lips in the reflection of the mirror, his grip on the shifter growing tight. "That shirt doesn't leave much to the imagination, you know. I'm trying to decide if I should leave it on or off while I suck on you."
"Suck on me," Chris repeats. His face is flushed and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. His laughter bears a significant tinge of arousal around the edges. "What, like road head? I don't think you want me to crash your precious car, man."
Karl starts to palm himself openly, spreading his thighs apart. "You wouldn't, but that's not what I want. I'd rather lay you down back here, so I can have full access to all of you."
"I—all of me?"
"That's what I said. So I can have my fill of the entire length of your body. My hands on your waist, running down your thighs..." Karl gives his cock a squeeze through the denim of his jeans, barely managing to hold back a moan. He gets another jolt of arousal when Chris hits a shallow pothole and the framework of the car jerks beneath him. "My mouth on your nipples, your hipbones, your long, luscious cock..."
"Okay, fuck this shit."
The car swerves suddenly and Karl has to grab the door handle to keep upright. His heart is going a mile a minute and continues to beat frantically, even after the car's stopped. When he looks up again, he sees that they're in a dark, wooded area, completely secluded, surrounded by utter blackness. Karl sucks in a shaky breath and turns to Chris, to make sure he's okay. He's not yet sure whether or not that sudden veer off the road was intentional. Chris unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs over the front seat, and Karl feels drawn to the heated look in his eyes. Then Chris' strong, sculpted arms, which Karl was admiring just a few moments ago, push him flat on his back and hold him there. Heat blossoms through Karl's groin when Chris' hips press against his and he groans, suddenly all too aware of how much he needs this, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
"The campsite?" Karl asks with a gasp, though he couldn't care less.
"Fuck it. We're doing it right here. I can't fucking drive when you're talking like that," Chris says. He fumbles to get Karl's jeans open. "Get us killed like that."
"You didn't say stop," Karl counters. He gets his wits back long enough to open up Chris' fly as well, sliding his hand beneath the denim to feel the pulsing heat inside.
"Fuck." Chris' voice is a clipped snarl. He thrusts once into Karl's grip and pins him with wickedly blue eyes. "You ever had sex in this car?" he asks.
"You kidding? Plenty of times."
"Yeah?" He licks his lips, eyes wide. Karl watches the dirty drag of his tongue, entranced. "How many times have you come on this seat?"
"Too many to count. Now stop asking questions."
Karl uses his free hand to push Chris' shirt up and expose his chest, just as he imagined doing. He licks hotly across Chris' left nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud to get it nice and tight before he sucks in earnest. Chris arches and cries out loudly, pressing one palm flat against the roof of the car, smacking it as if it's been bad. Karl swears he can feel the car shudder in response.
"Jesus, no, ahh—stop," Chris demands. His voice is hoarse, desperate, and loud in the confined space. There's something about the lack of maneuvering room that makes everything more urgent, more intense, and Karl can tell that Chris feels it, too. "I can't wait anymore," Chris pants. "I need..."
Karl drops his head back and nods his understanding. He carefully extracts both of their cocks from their confines without looking, briefly holding them together in his warm, sweaty grip. The first touch is electric. Chris' length is rigid and flushed, hot and demanding as it slides against Karl's. He curses and pulls the brat down for a messy kiss because he needs to dip his tongue into that gorgeous mouth and get a taste. They rut against each other frantically, breaths shallow and warm as words become unnecessary. Chris' fingers clench in Karl's hair and their mouths collide again and again in hungry kisses. Karl settles for wrapping his hand around Chris' bicep, his hair shorn too short to get a good grip. He remembers the flex of Chris' arms as he drove, the way he guided the car so easily, and he pulls Chris closer.
The air around them grows heavy with sweat and the promise of release. Karl's almost there when Chris rucks his blue T-shirt up and bears down so their nipples catch. Chris' chest is still damp from the tongue laving Karl gave him and that's just too sexy to fucking believe. Karl thinks wet, hot and he opens his eyes to the sight of Chris' ruddy cheeks, sweat dripping from his temples. It's too much; he comes with a shout, grabbing at Chris' ass for purchase. Chris flexes his muscles under Karl's hand, as if to clue him in. Karl pushes down on the round swell of one buttock, forcing Chris to fuck against his abs over and over, until Chris' glassy blue eyes roll back and he shoots all over Karl's bare torso.
"Shit," Chris whispers a few moments later. He breathes hard into the crook of Karl's neck. Karl nods his agreement and reaches up to crack a window open. Then he hears a buzzing noise coming from below. He reaches down to the car floor and finds Chris' phone, which likely fell from his pocket during the proceedings. There's a new text.
"You got a reply from Quinto," Karl says.
"Yeah? What's it say?"
"'My directions were fine. You suck ass. Karl Urban's ass.'"
Chris yawns and wedges his body between the padding of the backseat and Karl's side. "Maybe later," he murmurs.
Karl shuts his eyes and smiles, draping an arm around Chris' middle. He spares a thought for the camping equipment in the car boot. Looks like it's going to waste after all.
