Twisted
Title: Twisted
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Speed thinks he might be a little twisted. Speed/X
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 compactstars, because the thpeed_wacew porn-a-thon didn't exactly work out.
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
In retrospect, the front seat of the Shooting Star was probably neither the most discreet or safest place for sex, but at the time Speed was only concerned with here, now, harder.
His pants were still tangled around one leg, his shoes and socks still on as he squirmed in X's lap, their cocks bumping together and making his breath hitch. They weren't kissing; Speed kept his hands on X's face, his mask pushed off, studying him as though he was making sure there were no traces of his brother left.
He didn't understand it himself, why the revelation had the effect it did on him. Some part of him felt like it should feel disgusted or deceived, like his attraction to the other racer should have dwindled, at least, and become the light, airy affection he'd had for him in his youth.
But it wasn't like that; it was there was a ghost, like his brother had never been his brother, but an icon, one that had been put into another body. He felt like he was making love to a god, one he had almost been sure didn't exist, only to have him prove himself to him in two words in a garage.
"I'm Rex."
They had been sleeping together already for almost a month, ever since he'd gone to Thunderhead when Trixie broke it off with him. It had been against the hood of his car, on the Mach 5, his hands splayed out and caressing it as X pumped and jerked inside him, and it hadn't seemed wrong. It didn't seem wrong then. He couldn't even ask why it was then, of all times, why it hadn't been said before the first kiss, because he knew it was true and he didn't care. Or, rather, he did care, but only in a way that made it so much more exciting.
He felt dirty, and absently thought he might be a little twisted. He definitely didn't care.
The angle was all wrong and the seats were stationary, so Speed turned, kicked his pants off his leg, and, almost as an afterthought, pulled off his shoes, revealing his red socks. X, who had been frowning since the words slipped from his lips, finally smirked, lips pressed against the back of Speed's neck as they sat chest-to-back and Speed sank down with nothing but his own spit to ease the way.
It seemed right, to be connect that way, bare and open, and he knew it was twisted that he would never be able to think of his childhood racing lessons from his brother in the same way ever again.
It hurt, because he wasn't quite used to it yet, not enough to be able to take it easily without a real lubricant. It was good, but yes, it hurt, and he must have closed his eyes because of it, since he didn't notice Inspector Detector until he heard X's breath catch and his eyes flew open.
He stilled, and for a moment it was like all the air had gone from his lungs; he was sure he couldn't breath, like something was crushing him, even as X whispered quiet, soothing nonsense into his ear.
But Detector, standing in front of the Shooting Star, didn't look worried or scandalized. There was a crease between his eyebrows, like he was trying to figure something out, but he didn't move until he said, "Do you know who he is?"
Speed just nodded, numb.
Detector let out a long, slow breath, licked his lips, and didn't move. Speed felt his own breath come back to him, quick and excited, and when X thrust up into him he didn't question it, meeting him halfway and locking his eyes with the inspector's.
He was pretty sure it was twisted, sick, wrong to be fucked by his own brother in front of the man who'd hidden him in plain sight, but as he tilted his head back, resting it against X's shoulder, and raised up on his knees again, he couldn't care less.
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Speed thinks he might be a little twisted. Speed/X
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 compactstars, because the thpeed_wacew porn-a-thon didn't exactly work out.
Crosspost: AdultFanfiction.net
In retrospect, the front seat of the Shooting Star was probably neither the most discreet or safest place for sex, but at the time Speed was only concerned with here, now, harder.
His pants were still tangled around one leg, his shoes and socks still on as he squirmed in X's lap, their cocks bumping together and making his breath hitch. They weren't kissing; Speed kept his hands on X's face, his mask pushed off, studying him as though he was making sure there were no traces of his brother left.
He didn't understand it himself, why the revelation had the effect it did on him. Some part of him felt like it should feel disgusted or deceived, like his attraction to the other racer should have dwindled, at least, and become the light, airy affection he'd had for him in his youth.
But it wasn't like that; it was there was a ghost, like his brother had never been his brother, but an icon, one that had been put into another body. He felt like he was making love to a god, one he had almost been sure didn't exist, only to have him prove himself to him in two words in a garage.
"I'm Rex."
They had been sleeping together already for almost a month, ever since he'd gone to Thunderhead when Trixie broke it off with him. It had been against the hood of his car, on the Mach 5, his hands splayed out and caressing it as X pumped and jerked inside him, and it hadn't seemed wrong. It didn't seem wrong then. He couldn't even ask why it was then, of all times, why it hadn't been said before the first kiss, because he knew it was true and he didn't care. Or, rather, he did care, but only in a way that made it so much more exciting.
He felt dirty, and absently thought he might be a little twisted. He definitely didn't care.
The angle was all wrong and the seats were stationary, so Speed turned, kicked his pants off his leg, and, almost as an afterthought, pulled off his shoes, revealing his red socks. X, who had been frowning since the words slipped from his lips, finally smirked, lips pressed against the back of Speed's neck as they sat chest-to-back and Speed sank down with nothing but his own spit to ease the way.
It seemed right, to be connect that way, bare and open, and he knew it was twisted that he would never be able to think of his childhood racing lessons from his brother in the same way ever again.
It hurt, because he wasn't quite used to it yet, not enough to be able to take it easily without a real lubricant. It was good, but yes, it hurt, and he must have closed his eyes because of it, since he didn't notice Inspector Detector until he heard X's breath catch and his eyes flew open.
He stilled, and for a moment it was like all the air had gone from his lungs; he was sure he couldn't breath, like something was crushing him, even as X whispered quiet, soothing nonsense into his ear.
But Detector, standing in front of the Shooting Star, didn't look worried or scandalized. There was a crease between his eyebrows, like he was trying to figure something out, but he didn't move until he said, "Do you know who he is?"
Speed just nodded, numb.
Detector let out a long, slow breath, licked his lips, and didn't move. Speed felt his own breath come back to him, quick and excited, and when X thrust up into him he didn't question it, meeting him halfway and locking his eyes with the inspector's.
He was pretty sure it was twisted, sick, wrong to be fucked by his own brother in front of the man who'd hidden him in plain sight, but as he tilted his head back, resting it against X's shoulder, and raised up on his knees again, he couldn't care less.