FIC: nc-17, Shiny, Shiny
Title: Shiny, Shiny, 1/1
Rating: nc-17
Character/Pairing: Chris/Karl
Wordcount: approx 1,700 words complete
Summary: Karl’s feeling possessive - it’s PWP, folks.
Warnings: RPS - avoid if this offends you. If it doesn’t, there’s room in the handcart.
Disclaimer: This is all lies. None of it is true. It’s the ramblings of a fangirl and I mean no offence.
Author’s notes: Goodness me! Who would have thought I’d ever do this? I was helpless in the light of all those photos of Karl looking like he owns Chris.
A gift fic for everyone on team_jones and especially to emiliglia for beta reading and being generally awesome with the banners and icons she’s made for the comm!
Intriguing snippet: Karl seemed to know how to handle the attention in a way that Chris just couldn’t seem to manage. He was desperate for a smoke, desperate to get out of the fucking suit, desperate to be alone with Karl.
Awarded a silver medal in the jim_and_bones Rec Olympics 2012 for best RPS!
Also posted on Archive of Our Own
Feed-back is love!
Shiny, Shiny
“I can smell how aroused you are.”
Chris snapped his head around to examine Karl’s profile. “What?”
When what he wanted to say was, how the fuck can you tell?
Karl leaned into him ever so slightly, keeping his eyes on the middle-distance, unfazed by the buzz, the cameras, the push and shove, the sheer energy of want clawing at them from the hordes around them. Karl seemed to know how to handle the attention in a way that Chris just couldn’t seem to manage. He was desperate for a smoke, desperate to get out of the fucking suit, desperate to be alone with Karl.
The flash photography was making Chris squint more than it usually did and his eyes fucking hurt; he really needed to take his lenses out-
“Karl, shut up,” he hissed, eyes dead ahead now.
“They can’t hear me,” Karl said, “just you, Pine.”
Fuck, Karl only ever called him Pine when he was hard. He’d told him that the first time they’d fucked, ten days ago.
“You want to know when you’re on my mind, on my dick - listen out for how I say your name. You’ll know.” Then this innocent, crinkly ‘dad’ smile that had Chris wrapping his legs around him tight, hands on Karl’s shoulders, wishing he had nails to claw at him, drag him deeper.
Chris felt a lick of heat in his balls, slicked up his lips with his tongue.
“Thing is, Chris, I saw the vid, the interview with Zach. You looked pretty cosy-” He loved the way Karl said his name, the way one syllable became half with a hiss at the end that had had him fixated on Karl’s lips, imagining them doing dirty things to his cock, as early as that first day when they’d filmed the shuttle scene.
Karl’s hand burned on the small of his back and Chris was acutely aware of how their shoulders pressed into each other, how their hips were level… shit. Of course he was aroused. He’d had a half-hard dick for ten days, except for when it was fully hard and bursting at the seams until Karl managed to do something about it.
“Are you seriously pissed? What the fuck, Karl, he's my friend.”
“I think I’m going to have to teach you another lesson.”
God. Please.
+++
It was hours before they were alone and even then it was a moment won by Karl’s smooth renegotiating of who got to be in which limo.
“Think he’s on the verge of having a meltdown over the paps. I need to talk to him before he makes an arse of himself.”
See, if that had been Chris, he’d have got all flushed about the neck, given himself away somehow. Karl had a way about him that people believed whatever he said.
Like now. There was no reason not to believe Karl when he said things like this with his hands gripping Chris hard, one splayed across Chris’ throat, five points like branding irons, pinning him back on the car seat. The other hand pushed against his mouth and Chris knew what was expected of him so he licked Karl’s palm, slicked it up with his tongue, and then it was grabbing in his suit pants for his aching cock and Karl’s eyes were fixed on Chris’ face, burning and predatory.
“Holy fuck that’s a beautiful sight, Pine. Hard for me, huh, just from thinking about me being pissed off with you?” Karl’s right hand, cool and deliberate, and Chris shuddered when dark eyes looked down at Chris’s cock, appraising it, no rubbing, no friction. Yet. Chris gulped a sharp breath that did nothing to help his brain work any better.
“Are you mad at me?” he managed to say, arching his back as Karl tightened his grip but still didn’t move his hand up or down.
“What do you think?”
“I…fuck, Karl, I don’t know, all I know is I’m going to…”
“But I’m barely touching you, Pine.” Lips curling, eyebrow arching, drawing him in, pinning him down like a specimen for his enjoyment.
Chris realized his own hands were braced against the seat and he was rigid from toe to scalp, trying to counteract the fucking unbelievable feeling of Karl holding him down, the effort of trying not to come all over his suit, all over the leather upholstery. Karl’s berry-colored lips were close to his, so he could smell his aftershave, his warm, coffee-laced breath, but as much as he wanted to clamp onto that ripe mouth, Chris didn’t move; he’d already learned that when Karl was in one of his possessive moods, the best thing he could do was roll with it.
“No point in fighting the surf, mate,” Karl had growled in his ear the first time he’d let Chris witness this side of him.
Ten days and already he’d seen the Kiwi version of Jekyll and Hyde. First there was the ‘normal’ fucking - if you could call mind-blowing, go all night, bent over every item of furniture that got in the way sex ‘normal’. That persona was soon shunted aside by an alleged look from a fan or an agent or maybe one of the crew and then Karl-Hyde, as he’d come to think of him, wasn’t happy until he’d bitten his name into Chris’ chest or scrawled it with blunt nails all over his cock, until he’s swallowed every drop of Chris' come, mumbling ‘mine, mine’ while Chris shuddered through the most exhausting, wounding orgasms he’d ever experienced.
Then there was Jekyll: Karl in the morning, spooning him, nuzzling against his neck until he slicked up and was pressing into Chris before he’d even woken up properly; Karl at press conferences, glancing at him from across the room, a flicker of warmth in his eyes, an expression that said something, shared secrets with him; Karl letting Chris wash his hair and then fucking him slowly in the shower, wringing out every cry and moan he could from Chris before he upped the tempo and flattened him against the tile, the water cold and bracing around their panting bodies.
Thing is, Chris couldn’t decide which version he liked best.
And who said he had to choose, anyway?
Ten days and he was so addicted to this, to the feel of Karl’s hands on him, holding and supporting him, that he thought he might die if someone announced that this was it. That this just came with the junket, and it would be over as soon as it had started, soon as they stepped out of the limelight, like a holiday romance or something.
“Come on, pretty boy, show me, show me whose got the kite strings here.” Karl tightened his grip on Chris and began a hard, brutal, uneven yank on his cock, and Chris moaned and stuttered and clung onto Karl’s shoulders, thinking he really should lift his shirt away because they’d have to get out of the car soon, and he really needed to come or he wouldn’t be able to walk ever again.
Karl let go of his throat and curled his arm around Chris’ hips, pulling him into his hand hard, ratcheting up the pace, his face inches from Karl’s, and Chris hissed through clenched teeth, saw how Karl’s mouth mirrored his own, how his lips parted when Chris’ did, how he chewed on his bottom lip when Chris was almost there, how his eyes drew him towards that lust, that fucking moment just before, and then he couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut because Jesus he really couldn’t come, much as he wanted to, too aware of the driver behind the smoked glass, and then, then he felt Karl’s mouth on his earlobe and the lilt of his voice, growling.
“Look at me, Pine.”
And he obeyed and when Karl saw him and sang all low and breathy, just for him, “Shiny, shiny-“ he was almost undone; then one last drag of Karl’s hand upwards and, “whiplash boy-child on your bended knees-“ and he came hard, lifting his ass off the seat, pulling Karl’s face into his chest till one last, bone-cracking shudder, and he fell back, let go, panting like he’d run a mile and he’d just escaped from the fucking ice-bug-monster or something.
Bastard. Not a hair out of place, not a sign on that smug face that he had a fist full of come to dispose of.
“There,” Karl said, calm as you like, wiping his hand on Chris’ two hundred fucking dollar shirt. “Now when I have a smoke I’ll be able to smell you.”
The limo pulled up and Chris wondered where he’d find the strength to pull his shirt back down over his belly, tuck himself in, rearrange his face so he looked like he had any IQ to speak of.
Karl reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, ran one along his filthy tongue and handed it to Chris.
“Speak later,” he said, buttoning his jacket, waiting for the car door to be opened and unwinding elegantly till he’d stepped through and out and Chris scrambled behind him, remembering how to act, remembering he needed to find his character now - Chris Pine, Captain fucking Kirk.
Outside a small group of fans huddled in the chill evening air, watching from behind the ropes as the limos turned up for the party. Karl was standing next to Zoe, laughing uproariously at something Simon had said and Chris made straight for Zach who slipped his arm around Chris’ shoulders. Chris didn’t attempt to shake him off but leaned ever so slightly into him before he broke away and headed up the steps, taking a moment to stop and wave at the fans and, let’s be honest, to look at Karl.
The arched eyebrow was full of dark promise and Chris loved a man who kept his promises.
~FIN~
If you want more, read the sequel - The Plan
A/N: Karl twisted the lyrics of ‘Venus in Furs’ by Velvet Underground to his own ends. It should be:
Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark etc…but hey, Karl can do what he likes, eh?
The masterlist of all my fanfiction is here
Rating: nc-17
Character/Pairing: Chris/Karl
Wordcount: approx 1,700 words complete
Summary: Karl’s feeling possessive - it’s PWP, folks.
Warnings: RPS - avoid if this offends you. If it doesn’t, there’s room in the handcart.
Disclaimer: This is all lies. None of it is true. It’s the ramblings of a fangirl and I mean no offence.
Author’s notes: Goodness me! Who would have thought I’d ever do this? I was helpless in the light of all those photos of Karl looking like he owns Chris.
A gift fic for everyone on team_jones and especially to emiliglia for beta reading and being generally awesome with the banners and icons she’s made for the comm!
Intriguing snippet: Karl seemed to know how to handle the attention in a way that Chris just couldn’t seem to manage. He was desperate for a smoke, desperate to get out of the fucking suit, desperate to be alone with Karl.
Awarded a silver medal in the jim_and_bones Rec Olympics 2012 for best RPS!
Also posted on Archive of Our Own
Feed-back is love!
Shiny, Shiny
“I can smell how aroused you are.”
Chris snapped his head around to examine Karl’s profile. “What?”
When what he wanted to say was, how the fuck can you tell?
Karl leaned into him ever so slightly, keeping his eyes on the middle-distance, unfazed by the buzz, the cameras, the push and shove, the sheer energy of want clawing at them from the hordes around them. Karl seemed to know how to handle the attention in a way that Chris just couldn’t seem to manage. He was desperate for a smoke, desperate to get out of the fucking suit, desperate to be alone with Karl.
The flash photography was making Chris squint more than it usually did and his eyes fucking hurt; he really needed to take his lenses out-
“Karl, shut up,” he hissed, eyes dead ahead now.
“They can’t hear me,” Karl said, “just you, Pine.”
Fuck, Karl only ever called him Pine when he was hard. He’d told him that the first time they’d fucked, ten days ago.
“You want to know when you’re on my mind, on my dick - listen out for how I say your name. You’ll know.” Then this innocent, crinkly ‘dad’ smile that had Chris wrapping his legs around him tight, hands on Karl’s shoulders, wishing he had nails to claw at him, drag him deeper.
Chris felt a lick of heat in his balls, slicked up his lips with his tongue.
“Thing is, Chris, I saw the vid, the interview with Zach. You looked pretty cosy-” He loved the way Karl said his name, the way one syllable became half with a hiss at the end that had had him fixated on Karl’s lips, imagining them doing dirty things to his cock, as early as that first day when they’d filmed the shuttle scene.
Karl’s hand burned on the small of his back and Chris was acutely aware of how their shoulders pressed into each other, how their hips were level… shit. Of course he was aroused. He’d had a half-hard dick for ten days, except for when it was fully hard and bursting at the seams until Karl managed to do something about it.
“Are you seriously pissed? What the fuck, Karl, he's my friend.”
“I think I’m going to have to teach you another lesson.”
God. Please.
+++
It was hours before they were alone and even then it was a moment won by Karl’s smooth renegotiating of who got to be in which limo.
“Think he’s on the verge of having a meltdown over the paps. I need to talk to him before he makes an arse of himself.”
See, if that had been Chris, he’d have got all flushed about the neck, given himself away somehow. Karl had a way about him that people believed whatever he said.
Like now. There was no reason not to believe Karl when he said things like this with his hands gripping Chris hard, one splayed across Chris’ throat, five points like branding irons, pinning him back on the car seat. The other hand pushed against his mouth and Chris knew what was expected of him so he licked Karl’s palm, slicked it up with his tongue, and then it was grabbing in his suit pants for his aching cock and Karl’s eyes were fixed on Chris’ face, burning and predatory.
“Holy fuck that’s a beautiful sight, Pine. Hard for me, huh, just from thinking about me being pissed off with you?” Karl’s right hand, cool and deliberate, and Chris shuddered when dark eyes looked down at Chris’s cock, appraising it, no rubbing, no friction. Yet. Chris gulped a sharp breath that did nothing to help his brain work any better.
“Are you mad at me?” he managed to say, arching his back as Karl tightened his grip but still didn’t move his hand up or down.
“What do you think?”
“I…fuck, Karl, I don’t know, all I know is I’m going to…”
“But I’m barely touching you, Pine.” Lips curling, eyebrow arching, drawing him in, pinning him down like a specimen for his enjoyment.
Chris realized his own hands were braced against the seat and he was rigid from toe to scalp, trying to counteract the fucking unbelievable feeling of Karl holding him down, the effort of trying not to come all over his suit, all over the leather upholstery. Karl’s berry-colored lips were close to his, so he could smell his aftershave, his warm, coffee-laced breath, but as much as he wanted to clamp onto that ripe mouth, Chris didn’t move; he’d already learned that when Karl was in one of his possessive moods, the best thing he could do was roll with it.
“No point in fighting the surf, mate,” Karl had growled in his ear the first time he’d let Chris witness this side of him.
Ten days and already he’d seen the Kiwi version of Jekyll and Hyde. First there was the ‘normal’ fucking - if you could call mind-blowing, go all night, bent over every item of furniture that got in the way sex ‘normal’. That persona was soon shunted aside by an alleged look from a fan or an agent or maybe one of the crew and then Karl-Hyde, as he’d come to think of him, wasn’t happy until he’d bitten his name into Chris’ chest or scrawled it with blunt nails all over his cock, until he’s swallowed every drop of Chris' come, mumbling ‘mine, mine’ while Chris shuddered through the most exhausting, wounding orgasms he’d ever experienced.
Then there was Jekyll: Karl in the morning, spooning him, nuzzling against his neck until he slicked up and was pressing into Chris before he’d even woken up properly; Karl at press conferences, glancing at him from across the room, a flicker of warmth in his eyes, an expression that said something, shared secrets with him; Karl letting Chris wash his hair and then fucking him slowly in the shower, wringing out every cry and moan he could from Chris before he upped the tempo and flattened him against the tile, the water cold and bracing around their panting bodies.
Thing is, Chris couldn’t decide which version he liked best.
And who said he had to choose, anyway?
Ten days and he was so addicted to this, to the feel of Karl’s hands on him, holding and supporting him, that he thought he might die if someone announced that this was it. That this just came with the junket, and it would be over as soon as it had started, soon as they stepped out of the limelight, like a holiday romance or something.
“Come on, pretty boy, show me, show me whose got the kite strings here.” Karl tightened his grip on Chris and began a hard, brutal, uneven yank on his cock, and Chris moaned and stuttered and clung onto Karl’s shoulders, thinking he really should lift his shirt away because they’d have to get out of the car soon, and he really needed to come or he wouldn’t be able to walk ever again.
Karl let go of his throat and curled his arm around Chris’ hips, pulling him into his hand hard, ratcheting up the pace, his face inches from Karl’s, and Chris hissed through clenched teeth, saw how Karl’s mouth mirrored his own, how his lips parted when Chris’ did, how he chewed on his bottom lip when Chris was almost there, how his eyes drew him towards that lust, that fucking moment just before, and then he couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut because Jesus he really couldn’t come, much as he wanted to, too aware of the driver behind the smoked glass, and then, then he felt Karl’s mouth on his earlobe and the lilt of his voice, growling.
“Look at me, Pine.”
And he obeyed and when Karl saw him and sang all low and breathy, just for him, “Shiny, shiny-“ he was almost undone; then one last drag of Karl’s hand upwards and, “whiplash boy-child on your bended knees-“ and he came hard, lifting his ass off the seat, pulling Karl’s face into his chest till one last, bone-cracking shudder, and he fell back, let go, panting like he’d run a mile and he’d just escaped from the fucking ice-bug-monster or something.
Bastard. Not a hair out of place, not a sign on that smug face that he had a fist full of come to dispose of.
“There,” Karl said, calm as you like, wiping his hand on Chris’ two hundred fucking dollar shirt. “Now when I have a smoke I’ll be able to smell you.”
The limo pulled up and Chris wondered where he’d find the strength to pull his shirt back down over his belly, tuck himself in, rearrange his face so he looked like he had any IQ to speak of.
Karl reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, ran one along his filthy tongue and handed it to Chris.
“Speak later,” he said, buttoning his jacket, waiting for the car door to be opened and unwinding elegantly till he’d stepped through and out and Chris scrambled behind him, remembering how to act, remembering he needed to find his character now - Chris Pine, Captain fucking Kirk.
Outside a small group of fans huddled in the chill evening air, watching from behind the ropes as the limos turned up for the party. Karl was standing next to Zoe, laughing uproariously at something Simon had said and Chris made straight for Zach who slipped his arm around Chris’ shoulders. Chris didn’t attempt to shake him off but leaned ever so slightly into him before he broke away and headed up the steps, taking a moment to stop and wave at the fans and, let’s be honest, to look at Karl.
The arched eyebrow was full of dark promise and Chris loved a man who kept his promises.
~FIN~
If you want more, read the sequel - The Plan
A/N: Karl twisted the lyrics of ‘Venus in Furs’ by Velvet Underground to his own ends. It should be:
Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark etc…but hey, Karl can do what he likes, eh?
The masterlist of all my fanfiction is here