Fic: Boys Say Go

[withthepilot]

Title: Boys Say Go
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Karl/John
Notes: ~2,800 words. Sequel/companion piece to I Will Deliver, in which young Chris discovered a naughty secret about Karl and John, in a naughty fashion. Probably will make more sense plotwise if you've read the other fic first; it's set in the same 'verse, and takes place the very next day. Title from another Depeche Mode song of the same name. Thanks to starsandgraces for the beta read.
Warning: Underage sex, probably some more blasphemy.
Summary: They both know they shouldn't be doing this, but that's probably half the reason John is drawn to Karl's car every afternoon.



John taps his foot impatiently against the creaky hardwood floorboards as he counts down the minutes until ninth period ends. When his history teacher isn't looking, he reaches up and loosens the firm knot of his tie, trying to make it a little less asphyxiating around his neck. He unfolds the note left for him in his locker earlier that day and reads it again, going over the loopy handwriting.

Meet you after school in the parking lot. Look for my car. Don't make any other plans. Do not pass go or collect $200. Just look hot.

K

He doesn't really know how to look hot, or what Karl considers hot, so he just loosens his tie some more and hopes the nuns don't notice. John looks over to his left and sees Chris Pine sitting a few desks away, looking fidgety and distracted as usual. If he cranes his head, he can see that he's doodling a figure; it looks to be a boy in school uniform with dark hair and a somewhat pronounced nose. Interesting, that. After a few seconds of staring, though, Chris notices and looks over at John with an annoyed glance that eases into a smirk and a nod.

John has no idea what that means, but it doesn't matter because the bell starts ringing and that means he gets to leave. He immediately sits up and shoves all his stuff into his bag and makes a break for the door, slightly distracted when he hears Chris laughing behind him. He gives Pine a confused look and then makes his way out of the classroom.

It's really difficult to remember what the fuck his homework is for the night when all he can think about is getting out of the building and into the parking lot. Upon some severe concentration by his locker, John switches his history book for his math book and grabs his religion book too; he nods to himself, zips his bag closed and shuts the metal door. Then, after a moment's consideration, he opens his locker again, looking at his reflection in the small mirror he keeps inside. Does he look hot? He doesn't even know. He looks like himself; hopefully that's good enough.

John locks his things up and tries to walk as quickly down the hall as he can without getting a scolding for running. Of course, he crosses path with Pine again, now clad in that ridiculous leather jacket of his, and the guy leers at him, calling, "Hey, Cho, where ya going?"

"Fuck off, Pine," he says. Since when is he so fascinating to Chris Pine? He speeds up, pulling an annoyed face when he hears, "Have fun!" yelled behind him.

A few minutes later, he's sprinting out into the parking lot, looking for that old blue Buick he's come to know and love. John grins when he spots it in the distance, out of casual sight, and tries not to look too obvious as he jogs toward it. He lets himself into the unlocked passenger seat with a shaky breath, throwing his bag in the backseat.

"What took you so long?" Karl says from the driver's seat, smiling crookedly at him.

"Man, you got me all flustered with that 'look hot' stuff. How do I even do that?"

"It was a joke, John. You always look hot. But now that you mention it..." He leans over and pulls John's tie so it comes even more untied, then opens the top two buttons on his shirt. His hands then move to invade John's sleekly combed hair, obliterating the careful side part so it sticks up in random places. Karl grins, bringing his hands back to the steering wheel. "There. That's hot."

John takes a labored breath, dizzied by the phantom feeling of Karl's hands still in his hair and unbuttoning his shirt. "You'd better get us the fuck out of here fast because I've been thinking about this ever since I read that note."

"Now, John, speed limits are set for a reason," Karl says teasingly. He turns the engine and backs out of his spot with a faint screech of tires, then promptly hauls ass out of the parking lot.

John doesn't ask where Karl's going—he never does because the thrill of not knowing is part of the fun. They've been doing this for about three weeks now and it still hasn't gotten old at all, only better every time. Of course, it's been extremely difficult to concentrate on anything else besides the memory of Karl's body pressed against his. He's glad they only have two classes together this term; he might have to switch to home schooling if he didn't get a break from his dirty trains of thought.

"You know, your friend Chris was being a pain in the ass today," he says. He looks over at Karl and follows the curve of his soft, brown bangs as they fall over his forehead. Karl just laughs and pulls out a cigarette when they stop at a red light.

"Yeah, what else is new?" he deadpans, lighting the smoke. "Pine's an asshole."

"No, but it was weird. He kept taunting me, like he knew something I didn't." John blinks and squints at Karl across the seat. "You didn't—"

"Of course I didn't tell him, that would be crazy of me," Karl scoffs. He furrows his brow and makes that little grimace that John finds unbearably sexy, looking through the windshield and flicking ashes out the window. "I haven't told anyone," he adds, licking his lips.

"Okay, good, me neither," John says. He smiles in relief, leaning his head back against the seat. Karl looks at him as he drives again, his eyes seeming to flash in a way that gets the attention of John's cock.

"I was right," he says, his voice low. "You look really hot, sitting here in my car, all disheveled and waiting to be fucked."

John does his best to fight back a whimper. "We almost there?"

"Yeah." Karl speeds up, taking a long drag off his cigarette before discarding it out the window with a flick of his wrist.

They park in a secluded section of the woods, where no one's bound to be around for miles. As soon as Karl shifts the car into park and turns off the engine, they only have to exchange one glance before they're grabbing for each other across the car, John pulling Karl halfway into his lap as their mouths meet in a needy, open kiss. Limbs flailing and hands clutching, Karl almost kicks the gearshift as he strains to get closer to John, sucking and tugging at his mouth. John curls his fingers in that silky brown hair he constantly dreams about, scratching lightly at Karl's scalp to make him groan. The kiss breaks and Karl's lips go to work on the skin below John's throat, exposed by the recently opened buttons. John presses a palm to the roof of the car, as if he'll fall right out of it with the velocity and force of their combined lust.

"Backseat," he gasps, pulling at the knot of Karl's tie, even as the other boy undoes more shirt buttons, teasing and pinching his nipple. John keens in the back of his throat, smacking his hand against the roof for emphasis. "Now, Karl, fuck..."

"Sexy when you're pushy," Karl growls, licking at the spot that's now surely marked with a bruise. He moves back and John unbuckles his seatbelt with a faint laugh, lifting his feet onto the seat and hoisting himself up to climb into the back of the car. Karl gropes his ass as he goes, nearly making him lose his balance.

"Stop with the foreplay and get your ass back here," John says. But when he looks up, Karl is already there with him. His hands find John's shoulders and he pushes him down so he's horizontal on the cracked leather seat. "Oh, god," he whispers, as soon as their hips come into contact.

"Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain, Johnny," Karl murmurs, flashing him a grin. He then rolls his hips in a way that makes John want to disobey that particular commandment over and over again. Karl makes quick work of the rest of John's shirt buttons, taking care not to rip any off, seeing as how new uniform shirts aren't cheap. Once John's chest is fully exposed, he sits up to discard his own shirt, only undoing two buttons before he pulls it off.

"Christ, you're hot," John says, his eyes roaming over the lean muscles of Karl's arms and torso. Karl laughs and bends to lick hotly over his nipple. "Ah, shit..."

"You're always so vocal...I love that."

John flushes and reaches to unzip Karl's uniform trousers, knowing there's not much time to waste. He slides his open palm along the outline of Karl's cock through his underwear and gets a pleasure-riddled moan in response, as well as a sucking bite to his nipple. His own trousers feel way too tight, chafing against his cock, which is begging for release. But what he really wants is to see Karl's cock; he pulls the elastic of his briefs down, lightly cradling its heavy length, which twitches and hardens in his grip.

"John," Karl whispers, his breathing unsteady. He shudders when John lightly glides his fingertips over the head of his cock. "I have to tell you something."

"Yeah, Karl...?"

"I did tell somebody." Karl lowers his head, unable to look John in the eye. "I...I confessed it."

"You what?!"

"I—I didn't mean to, I just...I was feeling a little guilty about it, and I went there just to say something general and nondescript, but..." He licks his lips nervously, and John finds he has a tough time being upset with Karl when he has that look on his face, his forehead lined with worry and lips pursed with confusion. "The priest was so...he kept asking me questions, kept wanting to know details, like where we did it, what exactly we did." He swallows, looking up again, his hair falling in front of his hazel eyes. "It was like he was getting off on it. And...it was kinda hot."

"Jesus Christ, Karl," John whispers, his eyes wide. He leans up on his elbows and exhales, surprised to find his erection hasn't ebbed at all. In fact, the idea of Karl confessing what they do to a perverted priest is, as Karl aptly put it, kinda hot. "D-did you say it was with me?"

"Yes."

Karl looks absolutely wrecked by now, afraid that he's ruined everything, but John, god help him, thinks that broken expression is beautiful. He exhales shallowly and reaches down to open his trousers, pushing them down and off his legs, and Karl blinks at him in surprise, trailing his fingers over John's now bare thighs and whispering his name like a benediction.

"Well, if the priest liked it, then we must be doing something right," John says.

Karl is silent save for his breathing for a few moments, long enough to make John think maybe he broke something in his friend's brain, but then he collects himself enough to rasp out, "On your knees." John moves faster than he ever has in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye, John sees Karl going for the bottle of lube wedged behind the backseat; he spreads his thighs, anticipating the wet press of his fingers and welcoming them with a low moan. John curls his fingers around the edge of the seat as Karl fucks him open with his hand, and breathes hard against the window, creating clouds of fog. His mind races with the possibilities of what Karl said to the priest—did he mention the sounds that John made or the way it felt to loosen him up? Did they discuss, in patient detail, the achingly slow slide of Karl's cock that, as of this moment, is steadily turning John's limbs to jelly?

"Fuck, th-that's...ah, god," John stutters. Karl's arm wraps around his middle and pulls him back as he shifts his hips to bury himself deep inside him. John shouts, scratching at the glass of the window, streaking clear lines in the condensation of their breath. "Karl, go, go, fuck me..."

"As if that's not the plan."

Karl grunts, moving inside John and starting a slow rhythm that he can't help but speed up after a few rolls of his hips. For his part, John could care less; whenever he fantasizes about this moment, he always longs for it to be fast and hard, frenzied and impatient. The force stings for a second but then he relaxes into it, thrusting back on Karl's cock and balancing himself with a palm pressed to the window, leaving a sweaty handprint. He reaches down to stroke himself with his free hand and gets two good jerks in before Karl smacks his hand away, growling.

"Don't you dare," he warns, digging his fingertips into John's hips.

"Damn it, Karl, I've been hard for fucking hours!"

"I'll make it worth it, John, promise."

John can't argue with that, so he just holds on for dear life and falls into Karl's rough rhythm, pivoting his hips to get him in deeper. The tip of Karl's length meets the target of that sweet spot and sets off a chain reaction of moans, John's voice erupting first with a jerk of his hips and clench of his muscles, then Karl's low baritone finding its way from between his gritted teeth. The sound of Karl's voice alone, so gravelly and lustful, is enough to make John buck forward again.

His muscles feel taut as guitar strings as Karl fucks him faster, muttering things under his breath like "tight" and "so hot" and it's a strain for John not to touch himself. His cock is flushed red and bobbing against his stomach with each movement, leaving wet stains on his skin every time. Karl tightens his hold and yanks him back as he snaps his hips forward and that's when he comes, balls deep and at an angle that John isn't sure he's ever experienced before. Between the devastating feeling of Karl's orgasm and his own desperate urge to come, he almost falls forward into the door.

Karl pulls out carefully and before John can even hiss at the loss, he's being hauled back against Karl's chest, held in place as a terrible, amazing, taunting fingertip slides its way down and up the underside of his cock. He makes a noise somewhere between a sob and a gasp, nearly convulsing.

"It's so wrong, you and me, John," Karl whispers, tilting John's head back so he can press his mouth to his ear. "I wanted to tell him everything, had to stop myself..."

"God, please, Karl," John rasps, his chest heaving. He can feel the warmth of Karl's come sliding down the back of his thigh. He just needs one more touch—just one, he's sure of it, anything, anything. Karl's voice is so quiet now, so maddening.

"Now, John."

Karl wraps his hand firmly around his cock and jerks his hand once, thumbing the leaking head. John comes hard with a wordless cry, streaking his release across his chest and stomach until he feels completely emptied.

He's fairly boneless as he lets Karl find a good position for them, lying back against him and enjoying the sensation of the fingers toying with his dark hair. It's early yet, so they can stay here for a while until they each have to go home for dinner and then spend a dreadful twenty-four hours apart, before they can do this again. It's been too good not to warrant a repeat performance.

"Karl," John whispers, and he feels the other boy shift behind him, peering down at him. "Do you really think it's wrong?"

"...Yes," he says, after a moment's hesitation. "But it doesn't feel wrong. Y'know?"

"Yeah." He nods, knowing exactly what Karl means. Funny to think that a priest actually wanted to hear about it. "You think maybe the priest you talked to told Chris Pine?"

"Why would he do that?" Karl asks. John just shrugs, having no answer.

"I dunno. Maybe he's fucking a priest." He looks up at Karl, getting a surprised glance in return. He shrugs again. "I think he might be gay, actually. I saw him drawing a picture of a guy in class today."

"Chris Pine, gay? Yeah, right," Karl scoffs, laughing. "I'd like to see that."

"If you did, you'd have to confess it," John smirks.

Karl shivers visibly at the suggestion and it's too much to resist; John tips his head back and devours the boy's mouth with his own, reaching up to curl his arm around his neck. Outside, the sun begins to descend behind the woods, painting their bodies in the shadows of trees: the lone, silent witnesses to their carnal sin.