The Milk Consents
Title: The Milk Consents
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sparky is not lactose intolerant. Sparky/Speed
Disclaimer: I do not own Speed Racer or any related plots and characters. They are the property of others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit.
Notes: OKAY SO - this is weird, and probably very bad. I doubt it makes much sense. Howeeeveeer, after the idea came into my head while discussing Sparky's enthusiasm for the milk after the Grand Prix, it would not leave. Also, I was far too amused at the time (because I'd been laughing for a different reason, and this one's just so strange it's fantastic) to stop, and I pretty much ended up in a kind of self-dare to see it through. And so I have! And I tried to make it ridiculous but not completely ridiculous, and also to make the sex last a little longer because I've noticed mine are sort of short, sooo. Here you go!
Beta-read by lali_lemons! Thank you! <3
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
"I could've sworn he was lactose intolerant..."
"What?" Speed asked, looking up from under the hood of the Mach 6. Trixie was sitting in the driver's seat, her hands casually on the wheel. She looked almost as though she was cruising leisurely down a highway and not at all like she was in the front seat of a stationary race car.
"Oh, nothing. It's just- Sparky had some of that milk you get when you finished the Grand Prix, right?"
Speed furrowed his brow, closing the hood and wiping off his hands. "Yeah. So?"
"I thought he was lactose intolerant," Trixie said, shrugging. "I've never seen him drink milk before. He doesn't put any on his cereal, and I've never even seen him even share a pizza with all of us. I guess I just assumed he couldn't have dairy, or didn't like it."
Speed wracked his brain, trying to think of a time when he'd seen Sparky drinking milk. He'd never noticed it, but Trixie was right - until the Grand Prix, he'd never seen Sparky so much as have a glass of milk with Mom's cookies. "Well, he did run off towards the bathrooms after. Maybe he is lactose intolerant."
"That's a shame," Trixie said with a tsk. "He really seemed to be enjoying that milk."
"Well, it was the Grand Prix milk. It's not every day you get a taste of that." Not that Speed would have, if it meant feeling the pain of lactose intolerance. He wanted to enjoy every moment he could after his victory, and he'd thought Sparky would want to, too; it had been disappointing when he wasn't around afterwards for the interviews and photos.
But he wouldn't linger on it. It was just milk, after all, and the Mach 6 still needed some tune-ups.
---
It was dark when they finished, and late - late enough that not only were Spritle and Chim-Chim long asleep, but Mom and Pops had gone to bed for the night as well. He'd seen Trixie off and, yawning, turned to head into the house.
It seemed, at first, that no one but Speed was still awake. The house was quiet, dark - except the kitchen. He almost didn't notice it, but as he opened the door to his room, the light caught his eye.
"Spritle?" he called. More than once, the kid had woken up after everyone else was asleep to make a mess of the kitchen. Mom wouldn't have been happy to find it had happened again. But the only response was a quiet murmur, like a gasp - and clearly not from the boy. "Sparky?"
"Speed, don't-" Whatever Sparky had been about to say was cut off when Speed rounded the corner. Sparky slammed his hands down on the table and ducked his head. He was flushed, his breathing irregular, though he just sat at the table - with a glass of milk.
"What's up, Sparky?"
"Nothing," Sparky answered, his voice cracking. "Just - needed a drink."
Speed sat across the table, picking up the glass. "I thought you were lactose intolerant."
"Not quite..."
"It's just - Trixie pointed out that you don't really drink milk, but at the Prix-" He stopped. Sparky wasn't looking at him, was still bowing his head, those his fingers had curled in, gripping nothing. "You okay?"
"Absolutely," Sparky said, not raising his head. "Just fine."
"You sure? 'Cause you don't look fine."
"I'm fine, Speed," he snapped, finally looking up - though just barely.
Speed ran his fingers over the glass for a moment, unsure. "Well... if you're sure."
Sparky didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the glass of milk.
Speed raised it to his lips. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just can't have you out of commission for the next race. There's no better mechanic, you know." He smiled and drank.
Sparky made that sound again - like the air had gone out of him, like he had something to say but couldn't. Speed put down the glass; Sparky stared at his lips.
Speed cleared his throat. "Um, Sparky?"
Sparky uttered something that sounded like "Haffilkfesh."
Speed leaned forward, across the table. "What was that?"
"Haffamilkfesh."
Speed blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"I... have a milk fetish - thing."
Speed fell back into his chair and felt his mouth open and close several times, trying to say something - anything - to that. In the end, all he could come up with was "Oh."
"Yeah, so." Sparky unclenched his fingers, waving one hand. "That's why I don't drink milk around all of you. Except at the Prix. And sometimes I just can't resist a glass."
"So that-?"
"Yeah."
"Just now?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh," Speed repeated, fidgeting a little and blushing a lot. "Um. Is there... anything I can do?"
Sparky bowed his head again and groaned, one of his hands slipping off the tabletop. "You can not make offers like that."
Speed blushed, looking away. "Sorry. It's- but really. Can I help?"
Sparky didn't respond immediately - he just let out a sharp breath. After a moment, he said, "I'm sort of gay, too."
Seeing Speed at that moment was like watching a race car come to life, revving up slowly and then taking off like a rocket. Sparky could read every slight change in expression on his face, every thought connected until he finally reached a conclusion and- "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'm-" He swallowed, blushed again, and went on. "I'm going to help you out."
"What?" Sparky couldn't seem to help himself anymore; the mere idea of something he'd never even imagined possible - Speed and him, him and Speed, and milk - had his breath coming quicker, the heel of his hand pressed against his crotch. "Speed, you don't have-"
"I want to," Speed said in a rush, and before he could lose his will, he stood up and came to Sparky's side, crouching down beside him. "It's sort of my fault anyway, isn't it? I did just drink..."
"You didn't know," Sparky, though his eyes and the breathy quality of his voice contradicted his verbal reluctance. "I didn't want you to know."
"It's okay." Speed pushed Sparky's hand off of his crotch, replacing it - gently - with his own. "I'll get this one, and - uh, and you can get the next, yeah?"
Sparky's answer came in the form of a kiss as he covered Speed's hand with his own, urging him to press harder, move, do something. The other tangled in Speed's hair, bringing him closer.
Sparky was no master of seduction, but next to his boldness Speed felt inexperienced - and, truthfully, he was. Trixie still begged him just to kiss her - but right then he wasn't thinking of her, his mind consumed by his want, want he'd never known before and had hardly expected to feel toward one of his best friends. He went on instinct and what little he learned from sex ed and late nights with his hand for company; with one hand he unbuttoned Sparky's pants, the other clutching onto the mechanic for dear life. As his fingers touched another man's cock for the first time he shuddered, but dove in, not allowing himself to back away for even a second. He wrapped his hand around it, moving slowly, slowly, slow-
"The milk," Sparky muttered, gesturing to the carton the counter.
"What?" Speed ask, pausing. He looked over his shoulder. "Oh. Okay - yeah."
He stood up on shaky legs, crossing to get the carton as quickly as he could. Unsure of what to do, he tried to hand it to Sparky. "No. You - Drink it. Please."
Speed nodded, throwing his head back and gulping one mouthful of milk, then another - before Sparky's hands were back on him, pulling him close, and he just set the carton on the table in time before it got knocked from his hands.
Sparky licked his upper lip, his chin, lapping up the trails of milk where it had overflowed from Speed's mouth. Speed swallowed again when he felt Sparky's tongue swipe across his Adam's apple. He fumbled with the mechanic's pants, trying to push them down while Sparky was still sitting until they were just low enough for his cock to jut out.
Speed took him in hand again, trying to start slow but moving quicker before he meant to, his other hand rubbing at the front of his own pants. His breath came in short, hot bursts over Sparky's ear as the mechanic licked up the last drops, then moved to lick inside Speed's mouth, tasting the milk straight from his tongue.
"God, Speed," Sparky murmured, leaning away. "I didn't think-"
Speed moaned, cutting him off. His head bent down, his fingers fumbling at his own fly, trying to split his concentration between himself and Sparky, he looked - he was - completely undone. He barely touched himself before he was coming, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Sparky couldn't take his eyes off him, fought to urge to close them born from the pleasure of having someone else's hand on him.
Speed breathed heavily, trying to focus again, focus on Sparky, his come-covered hand on the mechanic's thigh, leaning closer. He flicked his thumb over the head of Sparky's cock, watching the mechanic's face. He let out a breath over it, met his eyes, and, embolden by the intense, lusty look he found, licked experimentally, once, twice - and that was all it took.
"Speed!" He choked the name back, his dick begging him to scream as he came but his mind remembering that they were not alone in the house, and it came out as an urgent whisper. The aftershock of orgasm left him momentarily tense, but he relaxed, melting into the chair, as Speed pulled away, sitting back as he zipped up.
They were quiet. Speed's head was down again when Sparky looked at him; he hoped, prayed that he wasn't regretting it, not already, even if- even if they maybe shouldn't have done it.
But if he was, that wasn't the first thing from Speed's lips; instead, it was, "That was my first time."
Sparky laughed quietly. "I sort of guessed, Speed."
The racer blushed. "That bad?"
"No, not at all," Sparky assured him, gesturing to the come-covered table. "I thought that would be evidence enough for you. For your first time, that wasn't bad at all."
Speed grinned. "I'm a a fast learner. At some things, anyway." He stood up, gathering paper towels from the counter and wiping himself, the flood, and the table off before handing some more to Sparky. There was another silent moment between them, a calmer one.
Sparky broke it. "Speed?"
"Yeah?"
He wasn't sure what he meant to say. "I - uh, thanks."
Later, they would laugh about it.
---
It wasn't until the next morning, when the Racer family rose for breakfast, that there was any hint of regret. Sparky could see it on Speed's face immediately - not when they woke, but when they entered the kitchen again to find Trixie there, spoon in hand, already preparing a bowl of cereal. He blushed when she poured in the milk, averting his eyes as he sat next to her. He didn't look at anyone. Sparky only looked at him.
"Speed worked on that problem with the Mach 6 last night," Trixie was saying to Pops. "We didn't test it out, but it should be okay."
"Yeah," Speed muttered. "It looked fine."
"Are you all right, Speed?" Mom Racer asked, setting a plate of toast down in the center of the table. "You're a little quiet this morning."
"Fine," Speed muttered, same as before. He tried to meet her eyes, instead looking over her shoulder, and smiled weakly.
"This milk tastes sorta funny," Trixie said, looking into her bowl. "Kind of - bitter."
"It's not past the expiration date - I just bought it," Mom said.
"Let me try it." Spritle grabbed the carton, and as he tipped it over his own bowl of cereal, Speed and Sparky's eyes met.
They thought it at the same time: No- it couldn't be. But if it is- And it struck them as possible - they hadn't closed the carton, and it had been close-
Speed snatched the carton away before a single drop left it, immediately tipping his head back and gulping it down just as he had the night before. Sparky watched, wide-eyed, and when Speed noticed he smiled. He didn't regret it - not entirely, at least.
When the last drop was gone, Speed dropped the carton on the table, wiping his mouth the back of his hand and avoiding meeting Sparky's eyes for an entirely different reason from before.
"Speed!" Mom scolded, picking up the carton. "Use a glass! You're not an animal."
Speed gave her an embarrassed, shy smile, and shrugged. "It tasted fine to me."
Sparky's laugh was sharp and loud, and left everyone at the table confused - except Speed.
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sparky is not lactose intolerant. Sparky/Speed
Disclaimer: I do not own Speed Racer or any related plots and characters. They are the property of others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit.
Notes: OKAY SO - this is weird, and probably very bad. I doubt it makes much sense. Howeeeveeer, after the idea came into my head while discussing Sparky's enthusiasm for the milk after the Grand Prix, it would not leave. Also, I was far too amused at the time (because I'd been laughing for a different reason, and this one's just so strange it's fantastic) to stop, and I pretty much ended up in a kind of self-dare to see it through. And so I have! And I tried to make it ridiculous but not completely ridiculous, and also to make the sex last a little longer because I've noticed mine are sort of short, sooo. Here you go!
Beta-read by lali_lemons! Thank you! <3
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
"I could've sworn he was lactose intolerant..."
"What?" Speed asked, looking up from under the hood of the Mach 6. Trixie was sitting in the driver's seat, her hands casually on the wheel. She looked almost as though she was cruising leisurely down a highway and not at all like she was in the front seat of a stationary race car.
"Oh, nothing. It's just- Sparky had some of that milk you get when you finished the Grand Prix, right?"
Speed furrowed his brow, closing the hood and wiping off his hands. "Yeah. So?"
"I thought he was lactose intolerant," Trixie said, shrugging. "I've never seen him drink milk before. He doesn't put any on his cereal, and I've never even seen him even share a pizza with all of us. I guess I just assumed he couldn't have dairy, or didn't like it."
Speed wracked his brain, trying to think of a time when he'd seen Sparky drinking milk. He'd never noticed it, but Trixie was right - until the Grand Prix, he'd never seen Sparky so much as have a glass of milk with Mom's cookies. "Well, he did run off towards the bathrooms after. Maybe he is lactose intolerant."
"That's a shame," Trixie said with a tsk. "He really seemed to be enjoying that milk."
"Well, it was the Grand Prix milk. It's not every day you get a taste of that." Not that Speed would have, if it meant feeling the pain of lactose intolerance. He wanted to enjoy every moment he could after his victory, and he'd thought Sparky would want to, too; it had been disappointing when he wasn't around afterwards for the interviews and photos.
But he wouldn't linger on it. It was just milk, after all, and the Mach 6 still needed some tune-ups.
---
It was dark when they finished, and late - late enough that not only were Spritle and Chim-Chim long asleep, but Mom and Pops had gone to bed for the night as well. He'd seen Trixie off and, yawning, turned to head into the house.
It seemed, at first, that no one but Speed was still awake. The house was quiet, dark - except the kitchen. He almost didn't notice it, but as he opened the door to his room, the light caught his eye.
"Spritle?" he called. More than once, the kid had woken up after everyone else was asleep to make a mess of the kitchen. Mom wouldn't have been happy to find it had happened again. But the only response was a quiet murmur, like a gasp - and clearly not from the boy. "Sparky?"
"Speed, don't-" Whatever Sparky had been about to say was cut off when Speed rounded the corner. Sparky slammed his hands down on the table and ducked his head. He was flushed, his breathing irregular, though he just sat at the table - with a glass of milk.
"What's up, Sparky?"
"Nothing," Sparky answered, his voice cracking. "Just - needed a drink."
Speed sat across the table, picking up the glass. "I thought you were lactose intolerant."
"Not quite..."
"It's just - Trixie pointed out that you don't really drink milk, but at the Prix-" He stopped. Sparky wasn't looking at him, was still bowing his head, those his fingers had curled in, gripping nothing. "You okay?"
"Absolutely," Sparky said, not raising his head. "Just fine."
"You sure? 'Cause you don't look fine."
"I'm fine, Speed," he snapped, finally looking up - though just barely.
Speed ran his fingers over the glass for a moment, unsure. "Well... if you're sure."
Sparky didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the glass of milk.
Speed raised it to his lips. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just can't have you out of commission for the next race. There's no better mechanic, you know." He smiled and drank.
Sparky made that sound again - like the air had gone out of him, like he had something to say but couldn't. Speed put down the glass; Sparky stared at his lips.
Speed cleared his throat. "Um, Sparky?"
Sparky uttered something that sounded like "Haffilkfesh."
Speed leaned forward, across the table. "What was that?"
"Haffamilkfesh."
Speed blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"I... have a milk fetish - thing."
Speed fell back into his chair and felt his mouth open and close several times, trying to say something - anything - to that. In the end, all he could come up with was "Oh."
"Yeah, so." Sparky unclenched his fingers, waving one hand. "That's why I don't drink milk around all of you. Except at the Prix. And sometimes I just can't resist a glass."
"So that-?"
"Yeah."
"Just now?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh," Speed repeated, fidgeting a little and blushing a lot. "Um. Is there... anything I can do?"
Sparky bowed his head again and groaned, one of his hands slipping off the tabletop. "You can not make offers like that."
Speed blushed, looking away. "Sorry. It's- but really. Can I help?"
Sparky didn't respond immediately - he just let out a sharp breath. After a moment, he said, "I'm sort of gay, too."
Seeing Speed at that moment was like watching a race car come to life, revving up slowly and then taking off like a rocket. Sparky could read every slight change in expression on his face, every thought connected until he finally reached a conclusion and- "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'm-" He swallowed, blushed again, and went on. "I'm going to help you out."
"What?" Sparky couldn't seem to help himself anymore; the mere idea of something he'd never even imagined possible - Speed and him, him and Speed, and milk - had his breath coming quicker, the heel of his hand pressed against his crotch. "Speed, you don't have-"
"I want to," Speed said in a rush, and before he could lose his will, he stood up and came to Sparky's side, crouching down beside him. "It's sort of my fault anyway, isn't it? I did just drink..."
"You didn't know," Sparky, though his eyes and the breathy quality of his voice contradicted his verbal reluctance. "I didn't want you to know."
"It's okay." Speed pushed Sparky's hand off of his crotch, replacing it - gently - with his own. "I'll get this one, and - uh, and you can get the next, yeah?"
Sparky's answer came in the form of a kiss as he covered Speed's hand with his own, urging him to press harder, move, do something. The other tangled in Speed's hair, bringing him closer.
Sparky was no master of seduction, but next to his boldness Speed felt inexperienced - and, truthfully, he was. Trixie still begged him just to kiss her - but right then he wasn't thinking of her, his mind consumed by his want, want he'd never known before and had hardly expected to feel toward one of his best friends. He went on instinct and what little he learned from sex ed and late nights with his hand for company; with one hand he unbuttoned Sparky's pants, the other clutching onto the mechanic for dear life. As his fingers touched another man's cock for the first time he shuddered, but dove in, not allowing himself to back away for even a second. He wrapped his hand around it, moving slowly, slowly, slow-
"The milk," Sparky muttered, gesturing to the carton the counter.
"What?" Speed ask, pausing. He looked over his shoulder. "Oh. Okay - yeah."
He stood up on shaky legs, crossing to get the carton as quickly as he could. Unsure of what to do, he tried to hand it to Sparky. "No. You - Drink it. Please."
Speed nodded, throwing his head back and gulping one mouthful of milk, then another - before Sparky's hands were back on him, pulling him close, and he just set the carton on the table in time before it got knocked from his hands.
Sparky licked his upper lip, his chin, lapping up the trails of milk where it had overflowed from Speed's mouth. Speed swallowed again when he felt Sparky's tongue swipe across his Adam's apple. He fumbled with the mechanic's pants, trying to push them down while Sparky was still sitting until they were just low enough for his cock to jut out.
Speed took him in hand again, trying to start slow but moving quicker before he meant to, his other hand rubbing at the front of his own pants. His breath came in short, hot bursts over Sparky's ear as the mechanic licked up the last drops, then moved to lick inside Speed's mouth, tasting the milk straight from his tongue.
"God, Speed," Sparky murmured, leaning away. "I didn't think-"
Speed moaned, cutting him off. His head bent down, his fingers fumbling at his own fly, trying to split his concentration between himself and Sparky, he looked - he was - completely undone. He barely touched himself before he was coming, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Sparky couldn't take his eyes off him, fought to urge to close them born from the pleasure of having someone else's hand on him.
Speed breathed heavily, trying to focus again, focus on Sparky, his come-covered hand on the mechanic's thigh, leaning closer. He flicked his thumb over the head of Sparky's cock, watching the mechanic's face. He let out a breath over it, met his eyes, and, embolden by the intense, lusty look he found, licked experimentally, once, twice - and that was all it took.
"Speed!" He choked the name back, his dick begging him to scream as he came but his mind remembering that they were not alone in the house, and it came out as an urgent whisper. The aftershock of orgasm left him momentarily tense, but he relaxed, melting into the chair, as Speed pulled away, sitting back as he zipped up.
They were quiet. Speed's head was down again when Sparky looked at him; he hoped, prayed that he wasn't regretting it, not already, even if- even if they maybe shouldn't have done it.
But if he was, that wasn't the first thing from Speed's lips; instead, it was, "That was my first time."
Sparky laughed quietly. "I sort of guessed, Speed."
The racer blushed. "That bad?"
"No, not at all," Sparky assured him, gesturing to the come-covered table. "I thought that would be evidence enough for you. For your first time, that wasn't bad at all."
Speed grinned. "I'm a a fast learner. At some things, anyway." He stood up, gathering paper towels from the counter and wiping himself, the flood, and the table off before handing some more to Sparky. There was another silent moment between them, a calmer one.
Sparky broke it. "Speed?"
"Yeah?"
He wasn't sure what he meant to say. "I - uh, thanks."
Later, they would laugh about it.
---
It wasn't until the next morning, when the Racer family rose for breakfast, that there was any hint of regret. Sparky could see it on Speed's face immediately - not when they woke, but when they entered the kitchen again to find Trixie there, spoon in hand, already preparing a bowl of cereal. He blushed when she poured in the milk, averting his eyes as he sat next to her. He didn't look at anyone. Sparky only looked at him.
"Speed worked on that problem with the Mach 6 last night," Trixie was saying to Pops. "We didn't test it out, but it should be okay."
"Yeah," Speed muttered. "It looked fine."
"Are you all right, Speed?" Mom Racer asked, setting a plate of toast down in the center of the table. "You're a little quiet this morning."
"Fine," Speed muttered, same as before. He tried to meet her eyes, instead looking over her shoulder, and smiled weakly.
"This milk tastes sorta funny," Trixie said, looking into her bowl. "Kind of - bitter."
"It's not past the expiration date - I just bought it," Mom said.
"Let me try it." Spritle grabbed the carton, and as he tipped it over his own bowl of cereal, Speed and Sparky's eyes met.
They thought it at the same time: No- it couldn't be. But if it is- And it struck them as possible - they hadn't closed the carton, and it had been close-
Speed snatched the carton away before a single drop left it, immediately tipping his head back and gulping it down just as he had the night before. Sparky watched, wide-eyed, and when Speed noticed he smiled. He didn't regret it - not entirely, at least.
When the last drop was gone, Speed dropped the carton on the table, wiping his mouth the back of his hand and avoiding meeting Sparky's eyes for an entirely different reason from before.
"Speed!" Mom scolded, picking up the carton. "Use a glass! You're not an animal."
Speed gave her an embarrassed, shy smile, and shrugged. "It tasted fine to me."
Sparky's laugh was sharp and loud, and left everyone at the table confused - except Speed.