Nascar Holiday Secret Santa - Part Two
For the ridinxdirty 2009 Secret Santa, I ended up with two people to create presents for. In an awesome turn of events, both recipients requested Kyle Busch fic, pairing optional, although one did mention Kyle/Denny Hamlin.
I ended up writing two sides to an encounter, a glimpse into each man's thought process. Both fics are exactly 1,000 words by design.
So for _chngingx3lanes and jwisni1, I present the second of two fics:
Title: Denny Blows
Pairing: Denny Hamlin/Kyle Busch
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,000 exactly
Warning This is RPS, so if that's not your thing, kindly turn away now.
Summary: And then he spoke.
AN: There's quite a bit of angst going on in here.
He prided himself on being quick on his feet. It was a good skill to have since he made his living risking his life a few times a week, but it paid off in his everyday life, too. He'd gotten out of many a speeding ticket through some well-placed exaggerations of the truth.
But he knew there was not enough quick thinking in the world to get out of his current predicament. The look in Kyle's eyes made it clear that his post sex declaration wasn't being taken well. Honestly, he couldn't blame the other man. He wasn't taking it well, either, and at least he'd been aware of his own inner turmoil.
When he thought about it logically, it was clear that Kyle was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Of course, that implied that they were buddies to begin with, a fact he was sure Kyle would quibble about. They spoke when they were forced together at functions, careless conversations about the weather, the previous night's television or Chad and Jimmie's plans for world domination. If he was honest with himself, the conversations were frigid at best, hateful at worst and not anything that should make him think for even a second that Kyle would speak with him unless required by circumstance or Coach Gibbs.
And that was a huge problem for him, because he'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he was interested in Kyle. No matter how he turned it over in his head, he couldn’t qualify it any more than that. It wasn't love, he knew, but the feeling was close, and that scared the shit out of him.
So he did what any self respecting man with a crush on another man who happens to hate him would do. He acted like he hated Kyle, too. When Kyle acted cold, he acted cold, too. When Kyle ignored him, he ignored him right back. And when Kyle alienated people left and right, he made sure to befriend them. With the exception of Brad Keselowski, of course, because that kid was crazy. But his friendship with Brian Vickers was stronger than ever, and he knew that really pissed Kyle off.
And he was fine with it, honestly. He wasn't the first to suffer through unrequited interest, and he wouldn't be the last. Taken a day at a time, it wasn't so bad. He focused on his driving, the Chase, his restaurant--anything that would distract him. Relationships came and went, and he was pretty happy with his life. The Kyle thing stayed close to the surface, but he dealt, and he carried on. He was a little proud of himself, even.
The distractions worked until they didn't.
Thinking back, he didn't know who made the first move. They were fighting, screaming at each other in one of the meeting rooms at the shop, and then they were kissing, grabbing at each other. He remembered the feel of Kyle's lips on his own, and the way their chests felt pressed together. He remembered the first feel of the other man's cock, warm and solid against his thigh. It was a feeling he knew he'd never forget and a memory that he pulled up often.
But he couldn’t romanticize the encounter. It was hot, yeah, but also fast and, to be plain, angry and brutal. Kyle had dropped to his knees in front of him and sucked his cock, dirty and quick, and when it was over he returned the favor, and that was it. Kyle had fixed his pants and walked out without a backwards glance, and he was left kneeling on the floor, pants caught around his ankles, gasping for breath and trying not to think about how he felt satisfied and dirty at the same time. He could taste Kyle in his mouth as he left, and he savored it as long as possible.
And if that had been it, maybe he could have gotten over him, gotten it out of his system, so to speak, and moved on with his life. Found someone else, been happy and continued his half-assed attempts of hatred against Kyle.
Kyle had other plans, though, and the encounters continued sporadically. And he hated himself for it, but he didn't want them to stop. His feelings grew stronger while Kyle seemed to become more detached, and he had to constantly remind himself not to reveal too much in a moment of passion.
And god, Kyle didn't make that easy. The man was good at everything he put his mind and mouth to. Kyle had been down on his knees, sucking his cock. He understood just how to work him, could make him come in seconds or hours depending on his mood. And then Kyle had pulled off and, without any preamble, seated himself on his cock, and it was so good, so perfect, and then he was lost to the pleasure, unable to control his thrusts or thoughts. He came hard, and it was glorious.
And then he spoke.
"I think I could maybe love you one day, Kyle."
He hadn't realized that an out of body experience was a real thing until that moment. He would have given anything to take it back, to have a witty follow up to diffuse the situation.
But he sat there, helpless, as Kyle got dressed and left, not looking back. There weren't any words, but none were necessary.
He'd had a chance, and he'd gone too far, and it was over.
He let himself cry for a few minutes, mourning a relationship that never was, and then he sat up, pulled himself together and walked out the door, back into the world of sponsorship and obligation and cool detachment, a world where he was Denny Hamlin, NASCAR superstar, and he wasn't going to let some irritating jackass teammate upset his life.
With his head held high, sunglasses on and a swagger in his step, he almost believed himself.
Almost.
I ended up writing two sides to an encounter, a glimpse into each man's thought process. Both fics are exactly 1,000 words by design.
So for _chngingx3lanes and jwisni1, I present the second of two fics:
Title: Denny Blows
Pairing: Denny Hamlin/Kyle Busch
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,000 exactly
Warning This is RPS, so if that's not your thing, kindly turn away now.
Summary: And then he spoke.
AN: There's quite a bit of angst going on in here.
He prided himself on being quick on his feet. It was a good skill to have since he made his living risking his life a few times a week, but it paid off in his everyday life, too. He'd gotten out of many a speeding ticket through some well-placed exaggerations of the truth.
But he knew there was not enough quick thinking in the world to get out of his current predicament. The look in Kyle's eyes made it clear that his post sex declaration wasn't being taken well. Honestly, he couldn't blame the other man. He wasn't taking it well, either, and at least he'd been aware of his own inner turmoil.
When he thought about it logically, it was clear that Kyle was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Of course, that implied that they were buddies to begin with, a fact he was sure Kyle would quibble about. They spoke when they were forced together at functions, careless conversations about the weather, the previous night's television or Chad and Jimmie's plans for world domination. If he was honest with himself, the conversations were frigid at best, hateful at worst and not anything that should make him think for even a second that Kyle would speak with him unless required by circumstance or Coach Gibbs.
And that was a huge problem for him, because he'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he was interested in Kyle. No matter how he turned it over in his head, he couldn’t qualify it any more than that. It wasn't love, he knew, but the feeling was close, and that scared the shit out of him.
So he did what any self respecting man with a crush on another man who happens to hate him would do. He acted like he hated Kyle, too. When Kyle acted cold, he acted cold, too. When Kyle ignored him, he ignored him right back. And when Kyle alienated people left and right, he made sure to befriend them. With the exception of Brad Keselowski, of course, because that kid was crazy. But his friendship with Brian Vickers was stronger than ever, and he knew that really pissed Kyle off.
And he was fine with it, honestly. He wasn't the first to suffer through unrequited interest, and he wouldn't be the last. Taken a day at a time, it wasn't so bad. He focused on his driving, the Chase, his restaurant--anything that would distract him. Relationships came and went, and he was pretty happy with his life. The Kyle thing stayed close to the surface, but he dealt, and he carried on. He was a little proud of himself, even.
The distractions worked until they didn't.
Thinking back, he didn't know who made the first move. They were fighting, screaming at each other in one of the meeting rooms at the shop, and then they were kissing, grabbing at each other. He remembered the feel of Kyle's lips on his own, and the way their chests felt pressed together. He remembered the first feel of the other man's cock, warm and solid against his thigh. It was a feeling he knew he'd never forget and a memory that he pulled up often.
But he couldn’t romanticize the encounter. It was hot, yeah, but also fast and, to be plain, angry and brutal. Kyle had dropped to his knees in front of him and sucked his cock, dirty and quick, and when it was over he returned the favor, and that was it. Kyle had fixed his pants and walked out without a backwards glance, and he was left kneeling on the floor, pants caught around his ankles, gasping for breath and trying not to think about how he felt satisfied and dirty at the same time. He could taste Kyle in his mouth as he left, and he savored it as long as possible.
And if that had been it, maybe he could have gotten over him, gotten it out of his system, so to speak, and moved on with his life. Found someone else, been happy and continued his half-assed attempts of hatred against Kyle.
Kyle had other plans, though, and the encounters continued sporadically. And he hated himself for it, but he didn't want them to stop. His feelings grew stronger while Kyle seemed to become more detached, and he had to constantly remind himself not to reveal too much in a moment of passion.
And god, Kyle didn't make that easy. The man was good at everything he put his mind and mouth to. Kyle had been down on his knees, sucking his cock. He understood just how to work him, could make him come in seconds or hours depending on his mood. And then Kyle had pulled off and, without any preamble, seated himself on his cock, and it was so good, so perfect, and then he was lost to the pleasure, unable to control his thrusts or thoughts. He came hard, and it was glorious.
And then he spoke.
"I think I could maybe love you one day, Kyle."
He hadn't realized that an out of body experience was a real thing until that moment. He would have given anything to take it back, to have a witty follow up to diffuse the situation.
But he sat there, helpless, as Kyle got dressed and left, not looking back. There weren't any words, but none were necessary.
He'd had a chance, and he'd gone too far, and it was over.
He let himself cry for a few minutes, mourning a relationship that never was, and then he sat up, pulled himself together and walked out the door, back into the world of sponsorship and obligation and cool detachment, a world where he was Denny Hamlin, NASCAR superstar, and he wasn't going to let some irritating jackass teammate upset his life.
With his head held high, sunglasses on and a swagger in his step, he almost believed himself.
Almost.