Beautiful Stranger
Title: Beautiful Stranger
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: R
Summary: The lies we tell and the secrets we keep keep us safe and help us sleep. Racer X/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: Uh, first incest story I've ever written. Possibly not the last - I admit not feeling one hundred percent comfortable with it, but I do love the potential dynamic and angstiness here (and I don't even usually like angst)... and, also, um, Frank/Dwayne for Little Miss Sunshine is kind of on. But, ANYWAY. This is my response to prompt quote three over at speed_fic. EDIT: D'oh! Original I labeled this "NC-17" even though in all other places I said R. That's what I get for using a copy-and-paste method with my headers. DX
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
He didn't mean for it to happen.
That's what he tells himself, late at night, when he's not alone and the guilt strikes. He didn't mean for it to happen. It was all a series of coincidences almost beyond his control.
Almost.
He couldn't have told him the truth about who he was. He couldn't waste everything he'd worked for, the years of secrecy, the thousands of dollars put towards turning him into a different person. He could never go back to that day he left home.
And it wasn't his fault, not really, that when words "brother" and "Racer X" became separate, the affection he had felt initially turned more primal. For both of them.
Wasn't it a lucky coincidence, of course, that while he was gay - and he whispered thanks into the night air that he'd never come out to Mom or Pops - his brother happened to be bisexual? He didn't think that sort of thing happened so often. He almost wondered if it was his fault, or if there was something else - something in the water, in the air - that made them all that way. He wondered if Spritle's first crush would be Trixie or Sparky. He tried not to think about that too hard.
It wasn't as though he'd tried to encourage the crush Speed developed. He tried to push him away, to push the feelings away from himself. He limited his interactions with him, treated him roughly when he had to be near him, or at least without much emotion, tried to drain all the fondness from his voice. But Speed's eyes would stay on him, and behind all the questions he still had, there was a fire, one that would burn them both down.
In a race through a canyon, X had suddenly noticed that, although Speed was two cars head, the helicopter that would have been so beneficial to him was nowhere to be seen. He didn't ask about it, but afterwards, when the Racers had finished cheering and Speed had smiled so many times for so many cameras X knew his face ached, he came up to him and told him, without any prelude, that he and Trixie would broken it off. She was upset, he said, but he wanted to stay friends with her. He was just interested in someone else.
X had acted like he didn't need to know, didn't want to know, but he could feel something in his chest tighten. He hoped, distantly, that the presence of Trixie's helicopter at the next race might have meant they'd broken it off, but afterwards, instead of kissing her Speed just smiled, and she smiled back and nodded. X didn't realize how obviously he'd been staring until Trixie's eyes met his, and then he knew for sure that it was over. She was just a friend.
Something came up. A businessman not entirely unlike Royalton had set up for one of his own racers who had discovered one secret to many to be killed mid-race. X tried, he really tried, to keep it to himself and Detector, but eventually the good inspector said, "We need Speed for this."
And X had just nodded, trying not to look nervous.
Because there it was: Speed sitting in his living room, X's living room, poring over a map of the race, and X was too close, his mask off, and Speed's shirt was too tight. It all fell apart when Detector left. Speed inched closer, focused less on the map. He watched X out of the corner of his eye when he didn't think he would be noticed.
"You really aren't Rex," he breathed, after a long quiet, and X wasn't even sure if it was a question.
He'd imagined, before, telling Speed the truth. He'd thought about everything it would undo, but he missed him so much, wanted to be able to laugh with his brother again, to hug him and their parents and the little brother he hardly knew, wanted to go back and eat Mom's pancakes. The truth, he thought, would be beautiful. His life was ugly, masked and mottled and empty.
"No, I'm not." And with those words, history changed, and Racer X became Speed Racer's lover instead of his brother. They kissed. They undressed. The fucked on the couch, and again in the bedroom. They showered, finished their plans, and fucked again.
It was amazing. The planes of Speed's face were new, not his little brother's anymore, the built, sculpted body of a man. The skin on his thigh tasted sweet and salty. His lips were full like a child's never could be, like he could never have seen in a brother. There was a spot, just below his ear, that got him to make noises X would never have imagined he could make. His hair was thick and soft, so easy to grab and pull. The line of his jaw, his hip, the arch of his foot, the dip in the small of his back - all fantastic.
He couldn't be to blame for not recognizing his own brother beneath all that. It was as though all the good parts of his brother had been placed into the model of the perfect man. Or near perfect, anyway. Not completely perfect. He had a bump on his left pinky from a very minor injury. He had scars, and if you looked closely, his body didn't seem quite symmetrical - and X spent a lot of time looking closely. He didn't care. He just felt fire when he saw that body, naked - that face, honest and open.
And then he imagined telling the truth. How hurt Mom and Pops would be. How Spritle wouldn't even know him, wouldn't recognize him, was afraid of him. How much it would spoil. How everyone would think so much worse of him for faking his own death.
How Speed would look at him, betrayed and horrified, knowing the things that they had done, the implications of it all. How wronged he would feel, how he'd never look at him again, at least not with those kind eyes. How he'd look at his own dick and wonder how he could have done such a thing. X wondered if Speed would need therapy just to find another lover, if he'd ever get over having screwed his own brother, if he'd be afraid to so much as touch Spritle on the shoulder.
And with his lies, there was Speed, filling the grey, moth-bitten life he had and making it something better. He could live in his secrecy, fix the wrongs that needed writing in their world of racing, and not be entirely unhappy. He could pretend it was true, that he wasn't really Rex Racer, that Speed was just a stranger, a beautiful man he had so much in common with, who sparked something in him he hadn't felt in years.
It was a good lie. It kept him sane. After all, once he tasted Speed's lips, held his cock in hand, there was no turning back.
And so he tells himself that it isn't his fault, but even as he does, he wonders what the cost of running away again would be, if he could afford a new face, maybe escape the world of racing altogether and never see Speed again. And then he turns and sees Speed's sleeping, peaceful face, and the thought is incomplete, broken off into a dream, and in the morning he can't remember it and he is once again not Rex Racer.
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: R
Summary: The lies we tell and the secrets we keep keep us safe and help us sleep. Racer X/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: Uh, first incest story I've ever written. Possibly not the last - I admit not feeling one hundred percent comfortable with it, but I do love the potential dynamic and angstiness here (and I don't even usually like angst)... and, also, um, Frank/Dwayne for Little Miss Sunshine is kind of on. But, ANYWAY. This is my response to prompt quote three over at speed_fic. EDIT: D'oh! Original I labeled this "NC-17" even though in all other places I said R. That's what I get for using a copy-and-paste method with my headers. DX
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
He didn't mean for it to happen.
That's what he tells himself, late at night, when he's not alone and the guilt strikes. He didn't mean for it to happen. It was all a series of coincidences almost beyond his control.
Almost.
He couldn't have told him the truth about who he was. He couldn't waste everything he'd worked for, the years of secrecy, the thousands of dollars put towards turning him into a different person. He could never go back to that day he left home.
And it wasn't his fault, not really, that when words "brother" and "Racer X" became separate, the affection he had felt initially turned more primal. For both of them.
Wasn't it a lucky coincidence, of course, that while he was gay - and he whispered thanks into the night air that he'd never come out to Mom or Pops - his brother happened to be bisexual? He didn't think that sort of thing happened so often. He almost wondered if it was his fault, or if there was something else - something in the water, in the air - that made them all that way. He wondered if Spritle's first crush would be Trixie or Sparky. He tried not to think about that too hard.
It wasn't as though he'd tried to encourage the crush Speed developed. He tried to push him away, to push the feelings away from himself. He limited his interactions with him, treated him roughly when he had to be near him, or at least without much emotion, tried to drain all the fondness from his voice. But Speed's eyes would stay on him, and behind all the questions he still had, there was a fire, one that would burn them both down.
In a race through a canyon, X had suddenly noticed that, although Speed was two cars head, the helicopter that would have been so beneficial to him was nowhere to be seen. He didn't ask about it, but afterwards, when the Racers had finished cheering and Speed had smiled so many times for so many cameras X knew his face ached, he came up to him and told him, without any prelude, that he and Trixie would broken it off. She was upset, he said, but he wanted to stay friends with her. He was just interested in someone else.
X had acted like he didn't need to know, didn't want to know, but he could feel something in his chest tighten. He hoped, distantly, that the presence of Trixie's helicopter at the next race might have meant they'd broken it off, but afterwards, instead of kissing her Speed just smiled, and she smiled back and nodded. X didn't realize how obviously he'd been staring until Trixie's eyes met his, and then he knew for sure that it was over. She was just a friend.
Something came up. A businessman not entirely unlike Royalton had set up for one of his own racers who had discovered one secret to many to be killed mid-race. X tried, he really tried, to keep it to himself and Detector, but eventually the good inspector said, "We need Speed for this."
And X had just nodded, trying not to look nervous.
Because there it was: Speed sitting in his living room, X's living room, poring over a map of the race, and X was too close, his mask off, and Speed's shirt was too tight. It all fell apart when Detector left. Speed inched closer, focused less on the map. He watched X out of the corner of his eye when he didn't think he would be noticed.
"You really aren't Rex," he breathed, after a long quiet, and X wasn't even sure if it was a question.
He'd imagined, before, telling Speed the truth. He'd thought about everything it would undo, but he missed him so much, wanted to be able to laugh with his brother again, to hug him and their parents and the little brother he hardly knew, wanted to go back and eat Mom's pancakes. The truth, he thought, would be beautiful. His life was ugly, masked and mottled and empty.
"No, I'm not." And with those words, history changed, and Racer X became Speed Racer's lover instead of his brother. They kissed. They undressed. The fucked on the couch, and again in the bedroom. They showered, finished their plans, and fucked again.
It was amazing. The planes of Speed's face were new, not his little brother's anymore, the built, sculpted body of a man. The skin on his thigh tasted sweet and salty. His lips were full like a child's never could be, like he could never have seen in a brother. There was a spot, just below his ear, that got him to make noises X would never have imagined he could make. His hair was thick and soft, so easy to grab and pull. The line of his jaw, his hip, the arch of his foot, the dip in the small of his back - all fantastic.
He couldn't be to blame for not recognizing his own brother beneath all that. It was as though all the good parts of his brother had been placed into the model of the perfect man. Or near perfect, anyway. Not completely perfect. He had a bump on his left pinky from a very minor injury. He had scars, and if you looked closely, his body didn't seem quite symmetrical - and X spent a lot of time looking closely. He didn't care. He just felt fire when he saw that body, naked - that face, honest and open.
And then he imagined telling the truth. How hurt Mom and Pops would be. How Spritle wouldn't even know him, wouldn't recognize him, was afraid of him. How much it would spoil. How everyone would think so much worse of him for faking his own death.
How Speed would look at him, betrayed and horrified, knowing the things that they had done, the implications of it all. How wronged he would feel, how he'd never look at him again, at least not with those kind eyes. How he'd look at his own dick and wonder how he could have done such a thing. X wondered if Speed would need therapy just to find another lover, if he'd ever get over having screwed his own brother, if he'd be afraid to so much as touch Spritle on the shoulder.
And with his lies, there was Speed, filling the grey, moth-bitten life he had and making it something better. He could live in his secrecy, fix the wrongs that needed writing in their world of racing, and not be entirely unhappy. He could pretend it was true, that he wasn't really Rex Racer, that Speed was just a stranger, a beautiful man he had so much in common with, who sparked something in him he hadn't felt in years.
It was a good lie. It kept him sane. After all, once he tasted Speed's lips, held his cock in hand, there was no turning back.
And so he tells himself that it isn't his fault, but even as he does, he wonders what the cost of running away again would be, if he could afford a new face, maybe escape the world of racing altogether and never see Speed again. And then he turns and sees Speed's sleeping, peaceful face, and the thought is incomplete, broken off into a dream, and in the morning he can't remember it and he is once again not Rex Racer.