insurgents | Chuck || Motorcity

[The push upwards makes said hand slide lower, and Mike releases the lip he's worrying between his teeth to take a deep breath.

The proximity suffocates him, but he finds himself wanting to choke and fighting for his life at the same time. It's exhilarating.

His fingers trace the elastic band of Chuck's underwear, slipping between it and his shirt, lightly touching the skin. It's only when he finds himself nuzzling Chuck's ear that he realizes he can whisper to him.] Can I... ?

[Chuck groans, open-mouthed, at the fingers teasing along his waistband. He wiggles anxiously, replying in a breathless gasp.] Yes.

[He would elaborate on how Mike doesn't need to ask permission, he should just do it, but at the moment he's too lost in the motions, moving closer as he rests the side of his face against Mike's. His hand moves down Mike's back too, slipping under the fabric of the shirt and travelling upwards.]

[And he doesn't really need any more incentive. Fumbling a little with his fingers into the band, he slides his hand, calluses on the inner knuckles by his palm, over Chuck's hip, gripping them gently as he guides the motions closer, into a slow but sure grind.

The hand on his back, though, kind of changes his mind. He tenses, back straightening and his own torso arching. He's wide eyed in wonder and surprise at the thrill he was getting from this, and the reactions every little motion and sound brought up. This isn't Chuck just holding on to him for dear life, lost in a current of sensation, this is Chuck also touching him and losing himself through it.

He wraps his hand around him, firmly, just pulling his head back enough so he can look at his face.]

[Chuck mewls and complies, obediently moving closer and grinding their hips together. His fingers press against Mike's back, almost like they're trying to slip under his skin.

Now that his mouth is open, every single noise that he would have bitten back, no matter how small, finds its way out one way or the other, whether with his breaths or in between his gasps. But none of those sounds compare to the moan that escapes him when Mike's calloused fingers curl around him, eyes rolling for a split second before he screws them shut with a shudder that takes over his entire body.]

[He watches him closely, his lips parting at the sight of a part of Chuck that he never knew he'd meet, and finding it...

... well, yeah, he was more than flustered. He twists his grip lightly, moves at different speeds [slow, fast, at a different pace, then slow and long again, fast and shallow], just watching Chuck react. His hand feels wet, he brushes his thumb on the head.

He wishes those fingers made a mark on his back, a part of him mentions, darkly.

He shakes his head, smiles just a little.] Chuck. [He doesn't know why he's calling his name, it just feels right, whispered like that, holding a little bit of wonder and fondness and the thought that this was precious for them.]

[The shivers wash over him in waves cold and hot, mingling across his skin as he moves erratically to meet Mike's hand. He sobs and drags his bitten nails across the small of Mike's back with added pressure, and even when his head is swimming in the sensations, he can still feel every irregularity, every tiny cut and dry patch of Mike's fingers as he moves his hand around Chuck. It's familiar, and yet it stirs a feeling so foreign in him that it almost scares him how much it drives him to want to do other things.]

Mike--! [His other hand, that had been resting between them, moves to close around Mike's neck. And then he does something he didn't know he wanted to. He'd never even thought about it before (and he's pretty sure he's still not thinking about it now), but--

Before he can stop himself, he's leaning forward, pressing his lips to Mike's, rough and needy. It's like a magnetic pull, and Chuck doesn't have the strength, he doesn't even want the strength to keep the distance.]

[He almost freezes into a stupor, but it's something that Mike easily brushes away. Chuck's breath surrounds him, and so is the warmth that he radiates and the sounds he makes are slipping through his lips and into his own.

He swallows, presses back, nuzzles Chuck's mouth open against his own, hand working him roughly and with a lot less finesse. Wants more. Wants more of him. He never thought this would happen, but they fell into this together and they're sinking even lower with each beat drumming against their chest. He had offered quick release, and never thought he'd drive into this pleasure ride through a newly found place in his own being.

His eyes close, and he hums.]

[Chuck parts his lips almost immediately, tilting his head but not doing much more than moaning into the kiss, because he's too focused on Mike's fingers and the way they move on him to care for anything else.

Almost anything else - right now, his hand is roaming across Mike's skin in what seems to be an aimless manner, but eventually his fingers trace around Mike and stop at his navel. Except unlike Mike, he's not going to take a moment to ask, he's just going to slide his hand down and past the waistband of Mike's boxers. He really wants to do this for Mike too, and he can only hope, for the sake of his own embarrassment and inadequacy, that Mike's at least half as excited as he is.

Or that he doesn't mind this either.

(...maybe he should have asked first oh god what does he think he's doing.)]

[He's more than half as excited, but Mike throws himself in a canon ball while Chuck tests the water with his toes. Chuck's fingers feel like ice against his skin and leave a trail of goosebumps around the area he touched.

Once they find their way down his navel, his eyes open again, and once they show no intention to stop, Mike shivers. That Chuck would want to return the favor was unsurprising - Chuck was far from the selfish type. And that he wouldn't stop to ask because he both needs to do so and he places trust on what Mike wants, only arouses him further.

Any insecurity Chuck could probably have could be soothed. Mike hisses, tightens the grip on Chuck a little, rolls his hips against Chuck's touch, calls out his name against his lips, smothering the last of it with an eager press, a mess of a kiss, and a groan.] Chuck--

[Mike's reaction is met with a surprised whimper, muffled against Mike's mouth, and Chuck rolls his own hips to meet Mike as he wraps his own hand firmly around him.

Something could be said about the way Mike says his name, but for now Chuck only wants to drink it all in, every noise he makes and every word he says. He's smiling a little - because he could have been wrong. But he wasn't, and now they're pulling closer and moving faster, and he's breathing Mike in through his pores, like the smell, the sweat, Mike's own essence will sink in faster that way.

(It will; later on he'll notice when he's doing something mundane like toasting their bread or playing a videogame. He just doesn't realize that just yet).]

[The smile is contagious, stenciled to Mike's lips through Chuck's as their lips press. He suckles on Chuck's upper lip as he moves his weight onto a different part of his shoulder, moving his hips into the grip of Chuck's hand - he has callouses over the pads of his fingers instead of his knuckles and the sides of his fingers, and his wrist is moving in a way that's so unusual and so different from when he does it on himself that it's driving him crazy.

He tries to mimic it, but he's getting too lost on the sensation to be able to pull it off as easily. Instead, he changes his own, palm pressed against the head, before he twists lightly and slides back down the length, then faster. The grip of his mouth easily loses to the need to breathe. ]

[It's mostly instinct on Chuck's end - used to typing at faster speeds than Mike drives, not to mention the fact that the videogames they play still require controls and joysticks - so his fingers are fast, and his movements are swift and precise. He bends his wrist in a way that he can easily wrap his fingers around the length and move up and down, at the same time his thumb running all the way up to ghost, then press over the tip.

He breaks the kiss off into a moan, quivering as he grips Mike tighter, his other hand fisting Mike's hair and his legs spreading farther apart as he rocks his hips faster and closer.]

[Another groan, and he tries for another open-mouthed kiss, except he just brushes his lips against Chuck's with yet another gasp, sharing the same air, sharing the same sounds. A new tilt of his head and he nuzzles against Chuck's nose, cheek, down his jaw.

He presses even closer, leg folding higher and rubbing with the motion of his own hips. He was quickly losing control in the movements of his own body and the speed of his hand.]

[Chuck tilts his head to allow Mike more access, and now that his mouth isn't as busy, it's parted as he keeps making small noises to match every shudder and thrust of his body. He's trying his best not to be too loud, because it's morning, and he can hear the faint noise of the others walking about somewhere far away. And he really can live without that particular kind of awkwardness.

His own hand speeds up to match Mike's rhythm, and soon his other hand moves down as well. He laces his fingers together around Mike and resumes the strokes, now with added pressure and two thumbs teasing at the skin.]

[He rakes his teeth along the soft skin of Chuck's neck, as if wanting to nibble at ever freckle dusting down to his shoulders. He stops to nuzzle his ear, muffle a groan against the skin underneath.

And then suddenly, eyes screwing shut - hand gripping tight - before opening wide, mouth agape.] Chu--... wha... hey, that's--

cheating... [He finishes with a whimper]

[Mike's whimper, and the way his words break off and scatter, sends a jolt through Chuck's muscles, travelling downwards and making him twitch. He sighs in response, and grins a little.] Sorry...

[Except he's not really sorry. There are no rules to this either way; so it's only fair game if with both hands he can touch more, move faster. It's a good thing his hands work on autopilot too, because otherwise right now he wouldn't be able to do much more other than moan as he thrusts into each of Mike's touches.

He's already close enough as it is, but he's determined to keep his focus on Mike. He takes the chance to bite lightly at Mike's shoulder, skin tasting like salt and smelling of burnt oil and freedom.]

[He gives him a weak snort, lips twitching and wanting to shake his head but only managing to swing his head once. Mike knows Chuck doesn't feel sorry at all. He would feel the same, after all.

It's like he was feeling the set of Chuck's teeth before they actually landed and raked on his skin, shivering a little at the breath skimming over his shoulder. He turns his head quickly into Chuck's jaw, mouths the curve of it, bites at his neck.

As fast as he was catching up to Chuck, he felt himself longing, just a little more, further because he finds it in his reach so obviously he needs to get it - and why shouldn't he? It's not even with thought that he does it: his mind was swimming in the pleasure of Chuck's leg wrapped around him, the feel of his hands, the light tickle of his hair against his face. He tries to pry one of Chuck's hands away - and that's how you know he isn't thinking, because he regrets if a lot for a second before he presses his hips tight against Chuck's, aligning himself with and against him, and clasping their hands together.]

[Chuck gasps and shudders, drawing out a guttural noise that carries Mike's name somewhere in there. He loses himself in the warmth of Mike pressing up against him, his free hand roaming, searching desperately for a patch of skin to cling to, finding safety in Mike's thigh and grabbing tightly, fingers digging across the flesh.

The way their hands are placed, Chuck's fingers easily find Mike's, and he twines them together as he resumes his motions, coaching Mike to do the same, hips bucking to keep up with the pace and to add to the pressure of their bodies crushing together, like the both of them drove straight into a wall, together, and somehow it's alright because that was their plan all along.

He tilts his head back, wanting to feel Mike's breath, teeth and tongue more, feel then reach other parts of him, and the thought alone would have been enough to make Chuck lose control, jump into anything head-first, and somehow right now that's a foreign, yet exciting and alluring feeling to him.]

[And his head moves forward once he finds Chuck pulling back, mouth open and locking it against Chuck's. Back then, he hadn't thought about this, he hadn't thought how it'd go aside from helping his best friend out, even if through a path that was rocky but led to trust. He never thought that it'd take them to this kind of unity, this kind of reciprocity.

He never thought he'd end up seeking him like this.
He never thought he'd find the taste of Chuck's mouth addictive.

His heartbeat and their own breaths echo through his ears and he can't really think any longer, just synch his motions with Chuck's through instinct, feeling a current through him, coiling at the base of his spine and the back of his eyes, tickling below his ears and pulling at his chest. He weaves his free hand through Chuck's hair and bunches the strands in a fist by his neck, the blonde looking stark clear with his dark skin.]

[There's a second as Chuck looks right into Mike's eyes, and he leans over again as they flutter close, tongue finding Mike's mouth and licking over his lips, then his teeth and finally delving deeper as he tilts and locks their mouths together. Mike's hand tugging at his hair shouldn't feel so good, considering the hint of pain, but it still leaves him breathless and moaning loudly into the kiss, the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck standing on end as a spark travels across his muscles.

He whimpers Mike's name again, along with something that sounds like 'please, again', though most of it gets lost into Mike's breath. His hand works faster, erratically although rhythmically so, thumb sliding across both their tips and smearing precum down their length in the process.]

[Chuck's plea falls short. He doesn't need to be asked, he doesn't need to keep in mind the motions of their hands to catch up with their rhythm, doesn't need to because he wants badly to do it as well. Mike's kissing him again, pulling his body a bit higher to lick at the space between Chuck's lips, brushing their noses together, stopping in his tracks with each swipe of his thumb to let out a soft hiss that sounds like his name, and then resume by tugging lightly at his lip with his teeth.

His fingers stretch, they move a little deeper into his hair, cupping the back of his head and holding onto it firmly, and he kisses him deeply, finding it very difficult to breathe, but not wanting the air that doesn't come from Chuck's lungs.

He's close, but he's not even conscious of it, he's all gut and instinct and the thrill of having Chuck in his arms, trying to slip into his skin, trying to connect every spark on his nerve endings with him.]

[There's something familiar to the feeling. He's all instinct and no rationality now, he doesn't see it, he doesn't think it, but - he can feel it coursing through him, the sense of dread that crawls up his spine at that last moment before he can feel Mutt's wheels leave solid ground, engine roaring louder as Mike releases the pedals. That dread morphs into something, Chuck can't really pinpoint it most of the times, but when he's screamed his lungs out, so much so that his throat is raw and dry and he has to stop just so he can gasp for air, his blood isn't flowing to the right places and he loses sense of what's up and down, left and right anymore.

It tingles its way to his nerve endings. Except this time, he can feel his nerves connected almost directly into Mike's skin. He shakes, shivers, something unintelligible muffled loudly into the kiss as his muscles contract, hips still moving of their own accord and his hand clutching tighter around them.

Chuck doesn't stop moving, or touching, but he's not really there now. His brain's somewhere else, somewhere between the ground and the sky, the fall and the landing, Mike burning and grinding against him like an overheated engine, growling louder and driving him over the edge. Just like always.

(Were the moment different, and he would wonder if Mike grips the wheel in the same way he does Chuck.)]

Edited 2013-01-24 00:15 (UTC)

[He drives them together over the edge once again but Chuck keeps fueling him further, with every nook and corner that darkens with Mike's own shadow, every ripple of his muscles under his fingers, every fold of rumpled clothing pressing and rubbing and aching against him, the low rumble of his voice on the strings of his neck and slipping into the back of his mouth. He feels he's not Chuck anymore, but a source of movement and energy that he cannot control, that would be foolish to even try. If he's driving them into a chasm of something they never knew, it's because Chuck had been holding tightly onto him after a claim of how it wouldn't make any sense if they weren't together when they did.

Because it's what they do. It's what they live for, it's what connects them, fuel and fire and rubber and gravel, holograms and fumes. And it's driving Mike crazy because he isn't sure who's making what sound, who's shivering and who's writhing, breaths and bodies in synch, words muffled and lost in translation against their skins and tongues but understood and replied.

He only wins some self-awareness when the heat and buzz coursing through his body stagnate, coil under his spine, making it tense, snapping his hips into an electrical storm that shuts down his brain, and there's only the liquid pleasure stretching too thin and breaking. The only thing he knows is that he stopped kissing Chuck because he suddenly needed air, then not so much - he doesn't realize he breathes his name into Chuck's cheek, spilling incoherence that dies in half within his own respiration [most things, feelings, thoughts or their lack, he didn't know, so it strikes him at the back of his mind, where it's not intoxicated by their scent and sounds, like a well-aimed punch to his gut, to reach and take a good grip of their existence before he lets go] as he spills into both their hands.

(He does. He holds on like this when he needs to grip onto what he cares about. Onto what he needs to justify his very own substance.) ]

[Crash and burn. And that's pretty much how it feels to Chuck right now - heat waves wash through him, lashing out through every hot exhale against Mike's skin. His clothes burn as if they were on fire, and he can feel every hem and crease with added pressure, shifting and tearing at his skin like a saw.

He only stops moving when he's sure the both of them landed, safely, and crawled away from the wreck unscathed. He doesn't let go, though, or pull away. He doesn't even dare open his eyes, his other hand moving only to rest over Mike's hipbone, fingers lightly playing across the skin. His breath comes in short, uneven rasps, Mike's breath tickling across his cheek and making him giggle just a bit into his sighs.]

... wow. [And wow really, because he wasn't planning on saying that out loud. It surprises him how hoarse and spent his own voice sounds too, and he swallows dry and clears his throat. It's kinda dumb and pointless now, he knows, but he can't help it as he feels a hint of a blush spread across his face. He honestly hopes this doesn't mean he just screamed a lot - he really can't remember, so hoping is all that's left.]

Edited 2013-01-24 10:37 (UTC)

[He's breathing deeply, but slowly so, evenly as he climbs down from the ride, pretty sure his feet would shake and give way if he were standing up. He nuzzles Chuck's face slowly as he nods in agreement, clearing the knot in his throat before rasping back a "yeah".

If Mike had been feeling lazy when he woke up, right now he was feeling languid, the constant weight on his shoulders gone from sight, away from them both. He opens his eyes, wide and alert, and finds himself taking in the sight of him for what seems the first time.

In the darkness and the haze, the flush surrounding the dark dust of Chuck's freckles makes them look like ground coffee, he almost doesn't realize he's doing it until he sees the hand that had been cupping the back of his neck reach around to try to swipe them from his cheek with his thumb. He smiles when they don't.

And Chuck looks relaxed, as relaxed as he's never seen him: shoulders slumped but not hunched over himself, uncovered eyes closed without wrinkling his lids and the skin around them, nothing between his brows, breaths even and full under his hand as it slides down his neck and places it between his collarbones. Something swells inside his own chest, even if he doesn't know what it is; he just wants him to cause that look on him more often.

He repeats.] Yeah...

laMKLMKLDSMLK WHAT IS GOING ON

nothing I'm just being creepy

IT'S NOT WORKING

guess I'll just have to try harder next time

sdkfjd YOU CAN'T CREEP OUT A CREEPER

we will see about that

heuehueheueheueheeheueheuahhehahahehuehauahehaheheheh

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