Confusion of Want
Title: Confusion of Want
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Cannonball Taylor wants what Speed has. Cannonball/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: This is an apology fic for bad_luck, because the thpeed_wacew porn-a-thon didn't exactly work out.
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
"Slut," Cannonball hissed, his lips curling in something like distaste. "You little whore. You love this, don't you?"
Speed was laid before him across the hood of the Mach 5, his wrists bound by that ridiculous ascot he had been wearing. He groaned, hips arching up without shame, as if they weren't out in the open - and sure, the road was more or less bare, empty of all but their two cars, but it didn't mean no one would come along, see the way the younger racer responded to him, ached for it.
He hadn't even touched him yet.
Still, it was obvious what they both wanted; the bulge in Speed's pants gave away his lust, and the responding bulge in Cannonball's left little doubt about what was going on, was compounded by the pounding of his heart. He could hear it in his ears, beating like drums or horse's hooves.
"You love this," he repeated, not as a question, as he worked Speed's pants open.
It wasn't as though he had set out to have his way with Speed Racer that day. No, certainly not that day, when he had his license back, finally, when he was free again. The road was long, straight, and although unpaved, it was the perfect place to take out his frustrations, to push his car to its limits and maybe never stop.
Then he'd seen the Mach 5, and it was like it was mocking him, taunting him, because-
Because he wanted it so much. Not just the car, not just the power of its engine, but everything Speed Racer had. The youth, the glory, the taste of winning on his tongue. He had once breathed it in like air, and then it had been ripped away from him because of a stupid, desperate mistake.
A mistake. Yes, just a mistake. It was a mistake to be seen, to have his tricks found out, because it was his place, what he had earned by working for Royalton for so long. He deserved to win, deserved to have the best car, the most money, the young flesh again...
He had seen the Mach 5, and before he knew what he was doing he'd cut in front of it, sending them both into a long skid; Speed only barely stopped in time.
But he did stop in time. He was good enough to do that.
It made Cannonball furious.
He couldn't stop himself from launching out of the car, grabbing Speed by his ascot - his ridiculous, childish ascot - and hauling him out of his seat for a kiss.
He'd been the star once. He knew how to make a girl melt until there was nothing left of her but a puddle in her panties; his techniques worked just as well on the young man, and he smirked then, just once, because he knew about the girl, and knew in that moment that their relationship must have been painfully chaste, because it only took a moment for him to feel the press of Speed's cock against his leg, and then he'd pushed him down.
His hand was in Speed's pants, working him so fast it must have been almost painful, but Speed loved it, cried out for it, tried to reach for his shoulders like they were an anchor and he was lost at sea, tugging at the cloth on his wrists. He arched up again and came, and the evidence of it was all over his pants, the bottom of his shirt, Cannonball's hand.
The look in his eyes after, not even sixty seconds later, was pathetic, full of fear and worry- and yet behind it there was a shine of lingering arousal, something that didn't care about his family or his friends or racing at all.
Cannonball couldn't remember feeling that, or feeling anything about family or friends. He was jealous of it, and it made him feel sick.
He wanted to force Speed to his knees, to make him suck his dick or roll him over and fuck him blue, but that look in his eyes made him back away, legs shaky and dick still hard, until he bumped into his own car.
"Mr. Taylor?" Speed asked, and the other emotions were gone, confusion all that was left.
He didn't answer; he just got in his car and drove away, back the way he'd come.
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Cannonball Taylor wants what Speed has. Cannonball/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: This is an apology fic for bad_luck, because the thpeed_wacew porn-a-thon didn't exactly work out.
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
"Slut," Cannonball hissed, his lips curling in something like distaste. "You little whore. You love this, don't you?"
Speed was laid before him across the hood of the Mach 5, his wrists bound by that ridiculous ascot he had been wearing. He groaned, hips arching up without shame, as if they weren't out in the open - and sure, the road was more or less bare, empty of all but their two cars, but it didn't mean no one would come along, see the way the younger racer responded to him, ached for it.
He hadn't even touched him yet.
Still, it was obvious what they both wanted; the bulge in Speed's pants gave away his lust, and the responding bulge in Cannonball's left little doubt about what was going on, was compounded by the pounding of his heart. He could hear it in his ears, beating like drums or horse's hooves.
"You love this," he repeated, not as a question, as he worked Speed's pants open.
It wasn't as though he had set out to have his way with Speed Racer that day. No, certainly not that day, when he had his license back, finally, when he was free again. The road was long, straight, and although unpaved, it was the perfect place to take out his frustrations, to push his car to its limits and maybe never stop.
Then he'd seen the Mach 5, and it was like it was mocking him, taunting him, because-
Because he wanted it so much. Not just the car, not just the power of its engine, but everything Speed Racer had. The youth, the glory, the taste of winning on his tongue. He had once breathed it in like air, and then it had been ripped away from him because of a stupid, desperate mistake.
A mistake. Yes, just a mistake. It was a mistake to be seen, to have his tricks found out, because it was his place, what he had earned by working for Royalton for so long. He deserved to win, deserved to have the best car, the most money, the young flesh again...
He had seen the Mach 5, and before he knew what he was doing he'd cut in front of it, sending them both into a long skid; Speed only barely stopped in time.
But he did stop in time. He was good enough to do that.
It made Cannonball furious.
He couldn't stop himself from launching out of the car, grabbing Speed by his ascot - his ridiculous, childish ascot - and hauling him out of his seat for a kiss.
He'd been the star once. He knew how to make a girl melt until there was nothing left of her but a puddle in her panties; his techniques worked just as well on the young man, and he smirked then, just once, because he knew about the girl, and knew in that moment that their relationship must have been painfully chaste, because it only took a moment for him to feel the press of Speed's cock against his leg, and then he'd pushed him down.
His hand was in Speed's pants, working him so fast it must have been almost painful, but Speed loved it, cried out for it, tried to reach for his shoulders like they were an anchor and he was lost at sea, tugging at the cloth on his wrists. He arched up again and came, and the evidence of it was all over his pants, the bottom of his shirt, Cannonball's hand.
The look in his eyes after, not even sixty seconds later, was pathetic, full of fear and worry- and yet behind it there was a shine of lingering arousal, something that didn't care about his family or his friends or racing at all.
Cannonball couldn't remember feeling that, or feeling anything about family or friends. He was jealous of it, and it made him feel sick.
He wanted to force Speed to his knees, to make him suck his dick or roll him over and fuck him blue, but that look in his eyes made him back away, legs shaky and dick still hard, until he bumped into his own car.
"Mr. Taylor?" Speed asked, and the other emotions were gone, confusion all that was left.
He didn't answer; he just got in his car and drove away, back the way he'd come.