InsaneJournal

Current mood:	chipper
Current music:	Keith Anderson - Sunday Morning in America

Chat! and smut! Two great tastes that go great together!
So today, after a dishearteningly long time trying to find a configuration of chat programs that would let us all actually chat together, quillaninc, joannindiw and mendax and I had group chat for the first time since February, I think. mendax mentioned that she'd finished beta-ing something for someone after what she called a distressingly long time. I said that called for a reward! (Because a) it does, and b)she always deserves rewards, as well as c)I wanted to write something/anything.) She wanted to know if it was the kind of a reward where she could ask what Ken and Joe had been doing since she last saw them, and I agreed wholeheartedly.

Then came the trauma of chat programs misbehaving and generally being unpleasant. When we finally got all together again, mendax said that after all this, her prompt had to be coitus interruptus. Again with the whole-hearted agreement.

Of course, my mind tracked back to the last time I'd written Ken and Joe (that wasn't the angst-ridden Way series, anyway), and recalled I'd written a little something for mendax in that afore-mentioned group chat in February. Since this is actually the lead-in for today's reward ficlet, I'm posting them up as a set.

It goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway - Gatcha-slash, sex, nsfw. Click with caution.

forest’s prompt: Joe and grease

Joe was bent over, practically shoulder deep in the Skyline’s engine, covered in engine grease and oil up to his elbows, and clearly, he had no idea that he was the sexiest thing on this Earth.

Ken did, however, and had to adjust himself again.  The sight of Joe’s ass – bobbing as he worked, outlined like a crime in those tight jeans – was making him crazy.

Why am I watching him work again?

Just then, Joe straightened away from the car, grabbed a socket from his toolbox and returned to the engine, stretching enough so that his tee-shirt came untucked.  It slid up his back, and gave Ken a peek at the muscles corded there, while the short sleeves exposed the ones in his arms, shifting and bunching as he worked.

Oh, yeah, Ken thought, a little dizzily.  That’s why.

Just this morning, Joe had claimed that the car was idling too fast, and then decided that it was past time to perform maintenance – change the filters, the oil, give it a thorough tune-up.  Ken had protested that it was fine, but weakly – he knew Joe wouldn’t listen to him, because the only motor he ever worked on was the one for his plane.

And watching Joe repairing his car was… well.  It was hot, is what it was.  Something he didn’t often get a chance to indulge in.

Something that sends every ounce of blood in my body to my prick, he thought, but he just couldn’t look away.

“Stupid nut,” Joe growled suddenly.  He threw the socket back into the toolbox and picked up a wrench.  Blowing out a breath, he absently swiped the back of a wrist across his forehead and cheek, trying to wipe away the sweat that had sprung out, then tackled the recalcitrant nut once more.

Ken groaned softly; he’d smeared grease across his face, leaving black streaks that only served to make Ken even harder.  If that’s even possible.

“K’so!” Joe’s explosive grunt made drew Ken’s attention away from his ass.  He was now practically lying on the engine, trying to get at something in the back.  “Ken, give me – you fucking stupid thing! – give me the ½ inch shallow socket again…”

Slowly, almost dreamily, Ken pushed off from the wall of the garage and made his way over to the car.  He fumbled in the toolbox for the ratchet and one of the sockets, paying no heed to which one, and turned to Joe.

Joe had one hand out, expecting the ratchet to be slapped into his palm.  Instead, he yelped as Ken pulled him away from the engine and spun him around, so his ass was against the grill.  Ken ground against his front, so that Joe could feel how hard he was.

“You’re done, Joe,” he said, using his best don’t fuck with me voice.  Then he leaned in and kissed him, pressing his hands down and away.  “Shower.  Now.  And I’m going to join you, just to make sure you get all the grease off.”

“Neat freak,” Joe growled, struggling against his grip.

Ken smirked.  “Don’t you forget it.”



Of course, you can see how that works out for them in the below, using mendax's prompt of this morning...

forest’s prompt: Ken and Joe, coitus interruptus

In retrospect, Ken supposed that it hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had.

But, in his defense, all of his blood had rushed away from his head to more vital areas.

He’d started out keeping Joe’s hands away from him, covered in grease as they were from the Skyline’s engine, but keeping Joe from doing something he wanted to do was always a losing proposition.  Before they’d even made it inside, Joe’s hands were all over him, leaving smudges of dirt and grease everywhere they touched.

Breaking away from Joe’s sinful lips for a desperately necessary breath of air, Ken fisted the bottom of Joe’s shirt, thankfully already untucked from his work on the car, and yanked it off.  A second later, the lamp it had landed on crashed to the floor.

“I’m not fixing that,” Joe muttered against Ken’s throat.

In response, Ken pushed Joe up against the closest wall and kissed him again, fighting to get his suddenly-clumsy fingers to cooperate in getting Joe’s belt undone.  “Probably just the bulb,” he managed, nipping his way down Joe’s neck.

“You’re outta bulbs,” Joe groaned, bucking, hands clenched in Ken’s shirt.

“Right now, don’t care.”  He bit sharply on Joe’s collarbone, felt him shudder and grinned in satisfaction before forcing himself to pull away.  “Bathroom.  Now.”

“Kinda too late,” Joe said, and rubbed his hands down the sides of Ken’s shirt once more, down to his hips to jerk him back into place.  “Already got you all dirty,” he got out around a moan.

“Then you’ll do the laundry,” Ken shot back, unable to resist grinding against him, just a little.  “Bathroom.”

Joe growled when he pulled away this time, sending another shock of arousal to heat his blood.  He grabbed the hanging end of Joe’s belt, having somehow gotten it undone, and tugged him away from the wall.  Joe followed with alacrity, grey eyes smoldering. 

It was only a few steps to the bathroom door, but they were joined at the mouth before they got there, and Ken had lost his shirt.  He’d gotten Joe’s jeans undone in retaliation, and they threatened to slide off his narrow hips with every step, especially with the heavy buckle of his belt hanging low and dragging them down.

This time, Joe lunged forward, slamming Ken’s back against the tile, one hand groping at his belt.  Ken knew his fingers were making a filthy mess of his fly, but he didn’t care, and bucked up into his touch.  Joe’s tongue was in his mouth, fighting with his own.

“You know what?” Joe panted, and shimmied his hips, letting his jeans slide to the floor.  “Fuck the shower.”  He thrust against Ken, hardness against hardness.

“Ngh,” was Ken’s only response.  He threaded his fingers into Joe’s thick hair and pulled, trying to get Joe’s mouth away from his neck and back where it belonged.

When Joe’s hand tried to get inside his jeans, though, he dimly remembered that he probably didn’t want grease there, and grabbed his wrist.  Using all of his speed and training, and hoping that Joe wouldn’t fight him, he spun them around, so it was Joe’s back against the tile.  “Not until you’re clean,” he managed, pinning Joe’s hands against the wall.  Then he ground against him again.

Joe groaned and arced up, eyes rolling back.  “This… this is good…”

Ken grinned, and shucked off his pants.

Moan, flex, thrust, and oh, God, why had he thought he’d be able to wait through a shower?

Beep beep beep!

Ken froze at the sound, and Joe bit his shoulder in retaliation.  “Fuck,” he gasped, “keep moving!”

Duty and baser instinct warred within him, and after a split second, baser instinct won out.  He started to move again.

Beep beep beep!

This time, even Joe couldn’t deny that they were being paged.  Ken heard his head fall back against the tile with a heavy thunk.  “K’so,” he sighed.

Ken took a deep breath before straightening away, more thankful than ever that the communicators were voice only.  “This is Gatchaman…”

Apparently, sex would just have to wait.



Enjoy!

Appropriate music is appropriate. And also a coincidence.