Grease and Plaid, a Fatal Combination [1/1]
Title: Grease and Plaid, a Fatal Combination
Author: vamplover82
Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Karl is fixing up Zach’s car; Chris watches and daydreams.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Karl Urban or Chris Pine, and this certainly isn’t true.
Author notes: Comments and con. crit. are much appreciated. Written as a comment fic for this prompt at trek_rpf_kink.
Karl looks ridiculously good in plaid, which Chris is pretty sure everyone has noticed. Or maybe it's just that anytime Karl wears plaid, Chris is eyeing him up and just assumes that everyone else must be doing so, as well. Whatever.
Normally, Chris wouldn't give it too much thought (okay, so maybe he would), but this time he can't help but notice Karl's attire because this time, Karl is working on Zach's car. He's currently bent over under the hood, doing...something; Chris isn't sure what, but it's an absolutely fantastic view. He's wearing a pair of old jeans that accentuate his ass perfectly, and he's got a handkerchief sticking out of his back pocket.
Then Karl straightens up, and Chris takes a good look at his chest as the plaid shirt stretches tight while he stretches out a kink in his back. He's got a lug wrench in his hand, which he sticks in his back pocket as he pulls the handkerchief free and wipes the sweat off his face. There's a smear of grease on his cheek that he completely misses and that Chris has the strong urge to lick (despite the fact that it would undoubtedly taste terrible).
Karl's hands are all greasy, too, although the worst of that does come off on the handkerchief. Then the handkerchief goes back into his pocket and he props his forearm on the raised hood, surveying his work. At this point, Chris' mind goes off all on its own, because while he knows Karl has pulled out the wrench and gone back to work again, that's not at all what he sees happening.
What he sees is Karl suddenly facing at him, a heated look in his eyes. Chris looks behind him, expecting to see someone else there because Karl, of all people, would never look at him like that. But there's no one else there, and when Chris turns back around, Karl is standing right in front of him. There's no mistaking then that the look is all for him. Chris' breath catches, and he's not entirely sure what Karl's going to do, but he only has to wait another second for Karl to lean forward and pull him into a fiery kiss. Yes, fiery. It's really the only word Chris can think of that provides a proper description.
It's glorious, and Chris fists his hands in Karl's shirt, holding on for all he's worth. Chris doesn't even realize they've moved until his back hits the side of the car. Suddenly, Karl's hands seem to be everywhere, pulling up on his t-shirt and undoing his jeans. Chris can't seem to get his hands to work properly, because he only just manages to get Karl's shirt unbuttoned before Karl's mouth is attacking his nipples while Karl's hands work his pants down around his thighs and grasp his dick in a tight fist.
Chris moans and scrabbles for purchase but finds none on the side of the car. His hips thrust forward only a few times before Karl pulls away, and Chris is afraid for a second that Karl is going to just leave him standing partially naked in Zach's garage. Luckily, all he does is move around to the front of the car, shutting the hood with a slam and smirking when Chris turns to face him. He stands back and lifts an eyebrow, looking at the hood of the car and back at Chris.
Oh. That's, yeah. He can do that. Chris shuffles his way over to Karl and gives him a long look before turning so he's facing the car, propping his arms up on the hood. Karl steps up behind him, close enough for Chris to feel his body heat, but not close enough that they're touching. He just stands there for several moments, and Chris wonders what the hold-up is, but then Karl's chest is pressed against his back and a hand is pulling one of his off the hood and pressing something into his palm. Lube.
Before Chris can turn around to ask, Karl leans in close to his ear. "My hands are too greasy; you'll have to do it yourself."
Chris shivers, but he straightens up enough to get the lube open and squeeze some out onto his fingers. Then he's leaning back over the hood while Karl rests his left hand on Chris' stomach and uses his right hand to guide Chris' hand back to his own entrance. Chris allows Karl to lead him, and when his hand is in position, he pushes two fingers in, gasping at the sensation. Karl lets go then, moving his hand around so he's lightly fondling Chris' cock.
Chris does his best not to elbow Karl in the stomach while he preps himself, and he mostly succeeds. A small jab to Karl's side is unavoidable when Karl's hand moves down to fondle his balls, but Karl just chuckles and moves his hand away. Then he's pulling Chris' fingers out and squeezing a little more lube on his hand, which Chris obligingly uses to slick Karl up. He knows they shouldn't be doing this without a condom, but he can't bring himself to say anything, especially not when Karl's dick is nudging up against him and then pressing in oh so slowly. He forgets all about it as Karl's pelvis hits his ass and Karl starts up a rhythm.
From there on out, it's all frantic movements and slick skin and their bodies slapping together as Karl pounds into him. There are a million sensations, it seems, and it's difficult for Chris to concentrate on any of them. The slapping of Karl's balls against his ass, the light scrape of Karl's jeans on his skin, the hand moving on his dick, the ends of Karl's shirt brushing his sides, Karl hitting his prostate dead on.
The last one wins out, it feels so good, and Chris' balls draw up tight. Karl twists his wrist in a deft move on Chris' dick, and it's all over for Chris. His arms give out and he collapses on the hood of the car, allowing Karl to keep on thrusting until he comes with a shout less than a minute later. Then Karl is pulling out and backing away, and Chris is all sticky, what with lying in a pool of his own come and Karl's come dripping out of him and running down his thighs...
"Chris?" Chris comes out of his daze and focuses on Karl, who looks a little bit worried. "You alright?" Karl asks when he sees that he's finally got Chris' attention.
Chris clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I just. I really need to get going."
Karl frowns. "But you haven't even been inside yet. You've been watching me work on that car for the last twenty minutes."
"I know. I just remembered that there's totally somewhere I need to be, so I really should get going. Tell Zach I said hi."
With that, Chris does his best to hurry back out to his car without running. He doesn't think Karl noticed that he was hard as a rock, but it's not easy to be sure. Karl's rather good at not reacting to embarrassing situations like that. It doesn't really matter right now anyway, because all Chris wants to do is get home as quickly as possible so he can get himself off.
His luck completely runs out, though, when he gets on the highway and finds traffic even more backed up than usual. At the pace they're going, it could take him an hour just to get home. He tries to wait, really he does, but the snail's pace is driving him insane because it gives him ample opportunity to run back over his thoughts from earlier.
Finally, he just gives up and slouches as low in his car as he can get while still seeing out the windshield. He grabs a sweatshirt to cover his lap and unzips his pants, sliding a hand inside his boxers and groaning in relief. He starts jacking himself as quickly as he can, paying minimal attention to the road (since it's barely necessary) and instead replaying the thoughts of Karl fucking him, making him come so hard he couldn't hold himself up, coming inside him.
Chris' hips thrust up involuntarily as he comes all over his hand and sweatshirt. His body settles back down, and Chris looks out his windows, suddenly paranoid that someone might have seen what he just did. No one in either of the cars next to him appears to be looking, and Chris isn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed. The thought of someone seeing is kind of, well, hot. Even if it is a bit idiotic. He wipes his hand on his sweatshirt but doesn't zip up, leaving the shirt to cover him.
It takes another half hour to get home, and when he does, Chris cleans himself up and throws the sweatshirt in the laundry. He heads back to the kitchen to maybe get something to eat when he sees that he's missed a call and has a voicemail. He dials the number and punches in his password, waiting for the message to start.
"Chris? This is Karl. I was just calling to make sure everything was alright. After all, you did leave in quite a hurry, and I noticed that you were packing a hell of a...lug wrench."
Chris drops his phone with a clatter.
Author: vamplover82
Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Karl is fixing up Zach’s car; Chris watches and daydreams.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Karl Urban or Chris Pine, and this certainly isn’t true.
Author notes: Comments and con. crit. are much appreciated. Written as a comment fic for this prompt at trek_rpf_kink.
Karl looks ridiculously good in plaid, which Chris is pretty sure everyone has noticed. Or maybe it's just that anytime Karl wears plaid, Chris is eyeing him up and just assumes that everyone else must be doing so, as well. Whatever.
Normally, Chris wouldn't give it too much thought (okay, so maybe he would), but this time he can't help but notice Karl's attire because this time, Karl is working on Zach's car. He's currently bent over under the hood, doing...something; Chris isn't sure what, but it's an absolutely fantastic view. He's wearing a pair of old jeans that accentuate his ass perfectly, and he's got a handkerchief sticking out of his back pocket.
Then Karl straightens up, and Chris takes a good look at his chest as the plaid shirt stretches tight while he stretches out a kink in his back. He's got a lug wrench in his hand, which he sticks in his back pocket as he pulls the handkerchief free and wipes the sweat off his face. There's a smear of grease on his cheek that he completely misses and that Chris has the strong urge to lick (despite the fact that it would undoubtedly taste terrible).
Karl's hands are all greasy, too, although the worst of that does come off on the handkerchief. Then the handkerchief goes back into his pocket and he props his forearm on the raised hood, surveying his work. At this point, Chris' mind goes off all on its own, because while he knows Karl has pulled out the wrench and gone back to work again, that's not at all what he sees happening.
What he sees is Karl suddenly facing at him, a heated look in his eyes. Chris looks behind him, expecting to see someone else there because Karl, of all people, would never look at him like that. But there's no one else there, and when Chris turns back around, Karl is standing right in front of him. There's no mistaking then that the look is all for him. Chris' breath catches, and he's not entirely sure what Karl's going to do, but he only has to wait another second for Karl to lean forward and pull him into a fiery kiss. Yes, fiery. It's really the only word Chris can think of that provides a proper description.
It's glorious, and Chris fists his hands in Karl's shirt, holding on for all he's worth. Chris doesn't even realize they've moved until his back hits the side of the car. Suddenly, Karl's hands seem to be everywhere, pulling up on his t-shirt and undoing his jeans. Chris can't seem to get his hands to work properly, because he only just manages to get Karl's shirt unbuttoned before Karl's mouth is attacking his nipples while Karl's hands work his pants down around his thighs and grasp his dick in a tight fist.
Chris moans and scrabbles for purchase but finds none on the side of the car. His hips thrust forward only a few times before Karl pulls away, and Chris is afraid for a second that Karl is going to just leave him standing partially naked in Zach's garage. Luckily, all he does is move around to the front of the car, shutting the hood with a slam and smirking when Chris turns to face him. He stands back and lifts an eyebrow, looking at the hood of the car and back at Chris.
Oh. That's, yeah. He can do that. Chris shuffles his way over to Karl and gives him a long look before turning so he's facing the car, propping his arms up on the hood. Karl steps up behind him, close enough for Chris to feel his body heat, but not close enough that they're touching. He just stands there for several moments, and Chris wonders what the hold-up is, but then Karl's chest is pressed against his back and a hand is pulling one of his off the hood and pressing something into his palm. Lube.
Before Chris can turn around to ask, Karl leans in close to his ear. "My hands are too greasy; you'll have to do it yourself."
Chris shivers, but he straightens up enough to get the lube open and squeeze some out onto his fingers. Then he's leaning back over the hood while Karl rests his left hand on Chris' stomach and uses his right hand to guide Chris' hand back to his own entrance. Chris allows Karl to lead him, and when his hand is in position, he pushes two fingers in, gasping at the sensation. Karl lets go then, moving his hand around so he's lightly fondling Chris' cock.
Chris does his best not to elbow Karl in the stomach while he preps himself, and he mostly succeeds. A small jab to Karl's side is unavoidable when Karl's hand moves down to fondle his balls, but Karl just chuckles and moves his hand away. Then he's pulling Chris' fingers out and squeezing a little more lube on his hand, which Chris obligingly uses to slick Karl up. He knows they shouldn't be doing this without a condom, but he can't bring himself to say anything, especially not when Karl's dick is nudging up against him and then pressing in oh so slowly. He forgets all about it as Karl's pelvis hits his ass and Karl starts up a rhythm.
From there on out, it's all frantic movements and slick skin and their bodies slapping together as Karl pounds into him. There are a million sensations, it seems, and it's difficult for Chris to concentrate on any of them. The slapping of Karl's balls against his ass, the light scrape of Karl's jeans on his skin, the hand moving on his dick, the ends of Karl's shirt brushing his sides, Karl hitting his prostate dead on.
The last one wins out, it feels so good, and Chris' balls draw up tight. Karl twists his wrist in a deft move on Chris' dick, and it's all over for Chris. His arms give out and he collapses on the hood of the car, allowing Karl to keep on thrusting until he comes with a shout less than a minute later. Then Karl is pulling out and backing away, and Chris is all sticky, what with lying in a pool of his own come and Karl's come dripping out of him and running down his thighs...
"Chris?" Chris comes out of his daze and focuses on Karl, who looks a little bit worried. "You alright?" Karl asks when he sees that he's finally got Chris' attention.
Chris clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I just. I really need to get going."
Karl frowns. "But you haven't even been inside yet. You've been watching me work on that car for the last twenty minutes."
"I know. I just remembered that there's totally somewhere I need to be, so I really should get going. Tell Zach I said hi."
With that, Chris does his best to hurry back out to his car without running. He doesn't think Karl noticed that he was hard as a rock, but it's not easy to be sure. Karl's rather good at not reacting to embarrassing situations like that. It doesn't really matter right now anyway, because all Chris wants to do is get home as quickly as possible so he can get himself off.
His luck completely runs out, though, when he gets on the highway and finds traffic even more backed up than usual. At the pace they're going, it could take him an hour just to get home. He tries to wait, really he does, but the snail's pace is driving him insane because it gives him ample opportunity to run back over his thoughts from earlier.
Finally, he just gives up and slouches as low in his car as he can get while still seeing out the windshield. He grabs a sweatshirt to cover his lap and unzips his pants, sliding a hand inside his boxers and groaning in relief. He starts jacking himself as quickly as he can, paying minimal attention to the road (since it's barely necessary) and instead replaying the thoughts of Karl fucking him, making him come so hard he couldn't hold himself up, coming inside him.
Chris' hips thrust up involuntarily as he comes all over his hand and sweatshirt. His body settles back down, and Chris looks out his windows, suddenly paranoid that someone might have seen what he just did. No one in either of the cars next to him appears to be looking, and Chris isn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed. The thought of someone seeing is kind of, well, hot. Even if it is a bit idiotic. He wipes his hand on his sweatshirt but doesn't zip up, leaving the shirt to cover him.
It takes another half hour to get home, and when he does, Chris cleans himself up and throws the sweatshirt in the laundry. He heads back to the kitchen to maybe get something to eat when he sees that he's missed a call and has a voicemail. He dials the number and punches in his password, waiting for the message to start.
"Chris? This is Karl. I was just calling to make sure everything was alright. After all, you did leave in quite a hurry, and I noticed that you were packing a hell of a...lug wrench."
Chris drops his phone with a clatter.