Top Gear FF: "Finesse and the lack thereof" (James/Richard/Jeremy, R)
Title: Finesse and the lack thereof
Fandom: Top Gear. So yes, this is RPS, if it is not your thing, I entirely understand, but it would probably be a good idea just not to read this.
Pairing: James/Richard/Jeremy
Rating: R
Length: 1,250
Disclaimer: This didn't happen, I'm not saying it did, all recognisable people belong to themselves and not me.
Spoilers: None?
Summary: Jeremy thinks that if anyone was going to turn a Ford Focus into an orchestra it should have been them. Things descend from there.
AN: First few paragraphs written in the cinema between the ad in question coming on, and the end of the trailers. But mostly this is porn :)
James walked into the living room right as Jeremy said, “All I’m saying is-”
Richard groaned loudly. “No. Just… no.”
“All I’m saying,” Jeremy went on, “is that if anyone was going to turn a car into a however-many-piece orchestra, it should have been us!”
“Sorry?” James asked.
Richard threw his hand out in the direction of the television, not bothering to look up from his hunt through the DVDs. “The TV ad. With the car parts? They use the hood as a gong?”
Jeremy nodded, somewhat maniacally. “It would have been magnificent!”
“It would have been terrible.” Richard corrected.
James had to agree with Richard. “You would have lost interest just as soon as we’d finished with the power-tools. Making the instruments might take…” He paused to think of a suitable word - a word sensitive to where Jeremy talents lay. “Finesse.”
“I have finesse!”
Richard laughed, turning his head up to look at them both incredulously. James fussed around with the beer bottles to cover up his own smothered laughter. Richard said, “You have no finesse! Bull elephants who’ve just spied cute lady elephants across the plains have more finesse than you!”
“Cows,” James said.
“Sorry?”
“Female elephants are called cows. Why did you know ‘bull’ and not ‘cow’?”
Richard shrugged, lifting the hem of his shirt. He had stretched out on the floor, ignoring what James had always thought was a fairly comfortable settee and chair. Jeremy looked down at Richard, leant down, and stroked the strip of exposed skin. Richard yelped and flipped over. James put down the bottles before he dropped them.
“See,” Jeremy said, “Finesse.”
“That…” Richard said, “that was not finesse, mate.” He smiled, wickedly, over Jeremy’s shoulder to where James was resting his hands on the edge of the sofa, watching them. “James has finesse though.”
James was never sure whether there was malevolence in the way Richard stirred up things between him and Jeremy. He didn’t know how to react to the way Jeremy turned around and stared. “James has finesse?” Jeremy asked.
Richard nodded.
“All right,” Jeremy said. “Demonstrate.”
“Excuse me?”
“Demonstrate,” he said again, pointing at Richard. Richard who, for reasons of his own, was lying perfectly still on the carpet, looking up at the ceiling. His gaze flickered down, just for a second, and he caught James’s eye - no malice at all, but something else.
The sofa was acting as a rather effective barrier, and James had to make himself walk to the other side of it, to clumsily drop beside Richard. Jeremy chuckled - some not-quite-under-his-breath comment about finesse or the lack thereof. James made his reply on Richard’s skin, drawing the tips of his fingers along Richard’s pale stomach. Richard closed his eyes.
James moved his hand, so his fingers slid under the cotton shirt. He felt his way upwards - gentle, measured. Richard shifted, moaning deep in his throat, the noise tangled with the response it drew out of Jeremy. James didn’t look behind him.
Richard lifted his own hand from the floor and met James halfway. James kissed the back of the small hand - it felt like the right thing to do, and Richard smiled at him with something sweet. James placed his hand back on Richard’s stomach, working down instead of up, following the trail of hair under the waistband of his jeans. Richard bucked upwards and James took the opportunity to slip the jeans off his hips. “You really are quite…” he murmured onto Richard’s hipbone, onto the top of his thigh. He could see the question - “quite what?” on Richard’s lips, and chased it away by tasting the tip of his cock.
You never forgot about Jeremy. Jeremy’s presence filled a room, no matter what else was in it, but James’s focus had been on Richard. He knew Jeremy was still there, had been entirely conscious that this was for him as well as Richard, but James had forgotten just how close he was sitting. How easy it would be for him to touch.
So when Richard choked out, “Oh, fucking God, James…”, James said, “Jeremy.” It was quite possibly the most surreal moment of his life - whispering Jeremy’s name over Richard’s cock, but neither of the other two were laughing.
Richard’s eyes were open and bright, looking at Jeremy over James’s shoulder this time. Jeremy was, presumably, looking back, but he was rubbing the heel of his hand over the crotch of James’s jeans, and nipping at his shoulder. After a moment, Richard looked back at James and grinned. James smiled back hesitantly, and wrapped his mouth around Richard’s cock.
It would be easy to get an ego, being with Richard for any length of time. He was so open about what he liked, and how much he liked it: squirming and clenching his fingers around James’s wrist, words a mixture of filth and adoration.
Jeremy, still mostly quiet behind James, wasn’t synchronised with their rhythm, surprising James with every touch. He laughed at how it threw James off his pace, and then kissed his shoulder in apology. Then laughed some more, and shoved James’s jeans down.
Richard broke his monologue to say, “James, James, I’m getting kind of close here…” But Jeremy used this break in concentration to squeeze the base of James’s cock, and plant a warm bite on his neck. James moaned, and felt Richard shudder underneath him.
He swallowed, mostly, because it was polite, and because he didn’t especially mind that part. James dabbed his mouth, sitting up and wincing at the twinge in his back. Jeremy was right behind him. James glanced down at Richard - stretched out in a blissful daze - and said to Jeremy. “And that would be what finesse gets you.”
Jeremy’s laughter was honest and surprised. “Not bad, May, I suppose.”
Richard opened his eyes and said, “Not bad? I’ll tell you what, from this end it was bloody fantastic.” His focus drifted downwards, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “James.” Richard sat up on his knees, and reached out a hand to have Jeremy knock it away.
“I’m demonstrating,” Jeremy said.
“Jeremy,” Richard said, “I think we’ve established already that you’re utterly lacking in…”
“I have other qualities,” he interrupted. It was the tone of voice that James both anticipated and feared: the ‘lets see what happens if’ voice; the ‘how hard can it be?’ voice.
The thing was, Jeremy did have finesse, somewhere, underneath the zeal and the powerful slide of his hands. His movement stuttered when Richard reached around James to put his hand on Jeremy. “What goes around…” Richard started to say, and then burst into what could only be described as giggles. Sniggers, perhaps, if James was to be charitable.
Jeremy sighed in mock desperation, and frowned as something occurred to him. “Hammond.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have finesse any more than I do.”
“Probably not, no. You complaining?”
“God no.”
“All right then.”
Afterwards, with beer recovered, but not clothing, Jeremy prodded James in the chest. “Seriously though.”
“Yes?”
“We should do the orchestra thing. I bet we could prove they didn’t make it all out of a Ford Focus. How many harp strings can there be in a car that size?”
“Jeremy,” James said. “It would be dreadful.”
“You’d leave James with all the engineering stuff,” Richard said, again not raising his head from where it lay. This time James’s arm.
“It’d be a mess,” James said.
Jeremy smirked the smirk of a man who knew he was going to win anyway. “James, James, James,” he said, gesturing about them with his free arm, “When did we ever let that stop us?”
FIN
Fandom: Top Gear. So yes, this is RPS, if it is not your thing, I entirely understand, but it would probably be a good idea just not to read this.
Pairing: James/Richard/Jeremy
Rating: R
Length: 1,250
Disclaimer: This didn't happen, I'm not saying it did, all recognisable people belong to themselves and not me.
Spoilers: None?
Summary: Jeremy thinks that if anyone was going to turn a Ford Focus into an orchestra it should have been them. Things descend from there.
AN: First few paragraphs written in the cinema between the ad in question coming on, and the end of the trailers. But mostly this is porn :)
James walked into the living room right as Jeremy said, “All I’m saying is-”
Richard groaned loudly. “No. Just… no.”
“All I’m saying,” Jeremy went on, “is that if anyone was going to turn a car into a however-many-piece orchestra, it should have been us!”
“Sorry?” James asked.
Richard threw his hand out in the direction of the television, not bothering to look up from his hunt through the DVDs. “The TV ad. With the car parts? They use the hood as a gong?”
Jeremy nodded, somewhat maniacally. “It would have been magnificent!”
“It would have been terrible.” Richard corrected.
James had to agree with Richard. “You would have lost interest just as soon as we’d finished with the power-tools. Making the instruments might take…” He paused to think of a suitable word - a word sensitive to where Jeremy talents lay. “Finesse.”
“I have finesse!”
Richard laughed, turning his head up to look at them both incredulously. James fussed around with the beer bottles to cover up his own smothered laughter. Richard said, “You have no finesse! Bull elephants who’ve just spied cute lady elephants across the plains have more finesse than you!”
“Cows,” James said.
“Sorry?”
“Female elephants are called cows. Why did you know ‘bull’ and not ‘cow’?”
Richard shrugged, lifting the hem of his shirt. He had stretched out on the floor, ignoring what James had always thought was a fairly comfortable settee and chair. Jeremy looked down at Richard, leant down, and stroked the strip of exposed skin. Richard yelped and flipped over. James put down the bottles before he dropped them.
“See,” Jeremy said, “Finesse.”
“That…” Richard said, “that was not finesse, mate.” He smiled, wickedly, over Jeremy’s shoulder to where James was resting his hands on the edge of the sofa, watching them. “James has finesse though.”
James was never sure whether there was malevolence in the way Richard stirred up things between him and Jeremy. He didn’t know how to react to the way Jeremy turned around and stared. “James has finesse?” Jeremy asked.
Richard nodded.
“All right,” Jeremy said. “Demonstrate.”
“Excuse me?”
“Demonstrate,” he said again, pointing at Richard. Richard who, for reasons of his own, was lying perfectly still on the carpet, looking up at the ceiling. His gaze flickered down, just for a second, and he caught James’s eye - no malice at all, but something else.
The sofa was acting as a rather effective barrier, and James had to make himself walk to the other side of it, to clumsily drop beside Richard. Jeremy chuckled - some not-quite-under-his-breath comment about finesse or the lack thereof. James made his reply on Richard’s skin, drawing the tips of his fingers along Richard’s pale stomach. Richard closed his eyes.
James moved his hand, so his fingers slid under the cotton shirt. He felt his way upwards - gentle, measured. Richard shifted, moaning deep in his throat, the noise tangled with the response it drew out of Jeremy. James didn’t look behind him.
Richard lifted his own hand from the floor and met James halfway. James kissed the back of the small hand - it felt like the right thing to do, and Richard smiled at him with something sweet. James placed his hand back on Richard’s stomach, working down instead of up, following the trail of hair under the waistband of his jeans. Richard bucked upwards and James took the opportunity to slip the jeans off his hips. “You really are quite…” he murmured onto Richard’s hipbone, onto the top of his thigh. He could see the question - “quite what?” on Richard’s lips, and chased it away by tasting the tip of his cock.
You never forgot about Jeremy. Jeremy’s presence filled a room, no matter what else was in it, but James’s focus had been on Richard. He knew Jeremy was still there, had been entirely conscious that this was for him as well as Richard, but James had forgotten just how close he was sitting. How easy it would be for him to touch.
So when Richard choked out, “Oh, fucking God, James…”, James said, “Jeremy.” It was quite possibly the most surreal moment of his life - whispering Jeremy’s name over Richard’s cock, but neither of the other two were laughing.
Richard’s eyes were open and bright, looking at Jeremy over James’s shoulder this time. Jeremy was, presumably, looking back, but he was rubbing the heel of his hand over the crotch of James’s jeans, and nipping at his shoulder. After a moment, Richard looked back at James and grinned. James smiled back hesitantly, and wrapped his mouth around Richard’s cock.
It would be easy to get an ego, being with Richard for any length of time. He was so open about what he liked, and how much he liked it: squirming and clenching his fingers around James’s wrist, words a mixture of filth and adoration.
Jeremy, still mostly quiet behind James, wasn’t synchronised with their rhythm, surprising James with every touch. He laughed at how it threw James off his pace, and then kissed his shoulder in apology. Then laughed some more, and shoved James’s jeans down.
Richard broke his monologue to say, “James, James, I’m getting kind of close here…” But Jeremy used this break in concentration to squeeze the base of James’s cock, and plant a warm bite on his neck. James moaned, and felt Richard shudder underneath him.
He swallowed, mostly, because it was polite, and because he didn’t especially mind that part. James dabbed his mouth, sitting up and wincing at the twinge in his back. Jeremy was right behind him. James glanced down at Richard - stretched out in a blissful daze - and said to Jeremy. “And that would be what finesse gets you.”
Jeremy’s laughter was honest and surprised. “Not bad, May, I suppose.”
Richard opened his eyes and said, “Not bad? I’ll tell you what, from this end it was bloody fantastic.” His focus drifted downwards, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “James.” Richard sat up on his knees, and reached out a hand to have Jeremy knock it away.
“I’m demonstrating,” Jeremy said.
“Jeremy,” Richard said, “I think we’ve established already that you’re utterly lacking in…”
“I have other qualities,” he interrupted. It was the tone of voice that James both anticipated and feared: the ‘lets see what happens if’ voice; the ‘how hard can it be?’ voice.
The thing was, Jeremy did have finesse, somewhere, underneath the zeal and the powerful slide of his hands. His movement stuttered when Richard reached around James to put his hand on Jeremy. “What goes around…” Richard started to say, and then burst into what could only be described as giggles. Sniggers, perhaps, if James was to be charitable.
Jeremy sighed in mock desperation, and frowned as something occurred to him. “Hammond.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have finesse any more than I do.”
“Probably not, no. You complaining?”
“God no.”
“All right then.”
Afterwards, with beer recovered, but not clothing, Jeremy prodded James in the chest. “Seriously though.”
“Yes?”
“We should do the orchestra thing. I bet we could prove they didn’t make it all out of a Ford Focus. How many harp strings can there be in a car that size?”
“Jeremy,” James said. “It would be dreadful.”
“You’d leave James with all the engineering stuff,” Richard said, again not raising his head from where it lay. This time James’s arm.
“It’d be a mess,” James said.
Jeremy smirked the smirk of a man who knew he was going to win anyway. “James, James, James,” he said, gesturing about them with his free arm, “When did we ever let that stop us?”
FIN