The Art of Subtlety
Pairing: Kasey Kahne/Kurt Busch
Rating: Hard R
Words: 573
Notes: Originally written as comment porn for Hanni *blows kisses*
The fans saw the congratulatory pat on the back, and admired Kasey Kahne for his good sportsmanship. The photographers saw the post-race hug, and applauded Kurt Busch for taking the rookie under his wing. The other drivers saw the quick smack on the ass, and smiled at two of their own indulging in a little playfulness.
But no one saw Kasey's hand slip subtly inside Kurt's firesuit, sneaking past the waistband of Kurt's boxers and wrapping slender fingers around Kurt's considerable length.
Kurt sucked in a sharp breath. They were surrounded by a crowd of thousands of people, many of them with cameras and video recorders. But that was Kasey's style -- flirting with disaster on the edges of insanity. Kurt could only shake his head. Damn rookies.
A slight smirk tugged at the corners of Kasey's mouth as he began a slow stroking rhythm along Kurt's cock. "Great weather for the race today, wasn't it?" he mused conversationally, as if he weren't jerking off his fellow driver in the middle of a media circus.
"You son of a bitch," Kurt hissed back, rapidly succumbing to the rookie's ministrations.
Kasey grinned and ran his thumb over the slick head of the hardened organ in his hand. "Love you too, buddy," he said, and punctuated his words with a series of quick, hard strokes that left Kurt gasping.
"Aw, fuck, Kasey..." he breathed.
"Mmm, we can do that later, if you want." The rookie watched as Kurt's eyes slid closed, his face flushed ruddy with color and his breath coming in hitched gasps. He really did look rather fuckable at the moment, Kasey decided, as his own erection twitched impatiently against his boxers.
Kurt had begun to squirm, one hand knotted fiercely into the material of Kasey's own firesuit as he tried to keep his knees from buckling. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to stifle a moan. That liquid fire was building at his crotch, that splash of ice water rushing through his veins, a myriad of conflicting sensations that threatened to drive him mad as Kasey's hand moved faster still...
"Kasey...!" Kurt's voice was a strangled whisper as he came, every last muscle in his body seeming to melt as he collapsed against the younger man.
Just as casually as he'd begun, Kasey withdrew his come-slick hand, giving Kurt a last gentle squeeze before refastening the other man's firesuit. He was the picture of innocence when Jeff Gordon strolled up a few minutes later.
"Hey guys, good race out there today, yeah?" he greeted, smiling genially at the two men. "Especially you, Kahne. I'll have to keep my eye on you next year." Jeff winked at Kasey, offering him a hand.
To Kurt's surprise, Kasey instead leaned forward and hugged the other driver, giving Jeff a good pat on the back before stepping away. "Thanks, Gordon. Good luck next week." He smiled politely as Jeff walked away.
Unable to ignore his twinge of jealousy, Kurt waited until Jeff was out of earshot to demand, "What was that about?"
Kasey could only smirk. "Oh, just giving Gordon a little victory gift," he laughed, watching Jeff's back recede into the crowd. Kurt followed his gaze, and after a moment, realized what had Kasey so amused.
"You bastard," Kurt snorted. But he couldn't help but wonder what Jeff Gordon's wife would say about the sticky, whitish handprint on the back of his firesuit...
Rating: Hard R
Words: 573
Notes: Originally written as comment porn for Hanni *blows kisses*
The fans saw the congratulatory pat on the back, and admired Kasey Kahne for his good sportsmanship. The photographers saw the post-race hug, and applauded Kurt Busch for taking the rookie under his wing. The other drivers saw the quick smack on the ass, and smiled at two of their own indulging in a little playfulness.
But no one saw Kasey's hand slip subtly inside Kurt's firesuit, sneaking past the waistband of Kurt's boxers and wrapping slender fingers around Kurt's considerable length.
Kurt sucked in a sharp breath. They were surrounded by a crowd of thousands of people, many of them with cameras and video recorders. But that was Kasey's style -- flirting with disaster on the edges of insanity. Kurt could only shake his head. Damn rookies.
A slight smirk tugged at the corners of Kasey's mouth as he began a slow stroking rhythm along Kurt's cock. "Great weather for the race today, wasn't it?" he mused conversationally, as if he weren't jerking off his fellow driver in the middle of a media circus.
"You son of a bitch," Kurt hissed back, rapidly succumbing to the rookie's ministrations.
Kasey grinned and ran his thumb over the slick head of the hardened organ in his hand. "Love you too, buddy," he said, and punctuated his words with a series of quick, hard strokes that left Kurt gasping.
"Aw, fuck, Kasey..." he breathed.
"Mmm, we can do that later, if you want." The rookie watched as Kurt's eyes slid closed, his face flushed ruddy with color and his breath coming in hitched gasps. He really did look rather fuckable at the moment, Kasey decided, as his own erection twitched impatiently against his boxers.
Kurt had begun to squirm, one hand knotted fiercely into the material of Kasey's own firesuit as he tried to keep his knees from buckling. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to stifle a moan. That liquid fire was building at his crotch, that splash of ice water rushing through his veins, a myriad of conflicting sensations that threatened to drive him mad as Kasey's hand moved faster still...
"Kasey...!" Kurt's voice was a strangled whisper as he came, every last muscle in his body seeming to melt as he collapsed against the younger man.
Just as casually as he'd begun, Kasey withdrew his come-slick hand, giving Kurt a last gentle squeeze before refastening the other man's firesuit. He was the picture of innocence when Jeff Gordon strolled up a few minutes later.
"Hey guys, good race out there today, yeah?" he greeted, smiling genially at the two men. "Especially you, Kahne. I'll have to keep my eye on you next year." Jeff winked at Kasey, offering him a hand.
To Kurt's surprise, Kasey instead leaned forward and hugged the other driver, giving Jeff a good pat on the back before stepping away. "Thanks, Gordon. Good luck next week." He smiled politely as Jeff walked away.
Unable to ignore his twinge of jealousy, Kurt waited until Jeff was out of earshot to demand, "What was that about?"
Kasey could only smirk. "Oh, just giving Gordon a little victory gift," he laughed, watching Jeff's back recede into the crowd. Kurt followed his gaze, and after a moment, realized what had Kasey so amused.
"You bastard," Kurt snorted. But he couldn't help but wonder what Jeff Gordon's wife would say about the sticky, whitish handprint on the back of his firesuit...