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They’re teenagers, JP’s sixteen, Frisbee’s fifteen, and they’ve just snuck into a race. They had to sneak around security and just after the winner has crossed the finish line they’ll be found and they’ll have to make a run for it. But right now everything is the race, the racers glide around the turns ripping through the air like metal angels, light gleaming off their bodies so bright that it burns the eyes. Everything smells like nitro and B.O. from where Frisbee is standing but it’s completely worth it. Later that night, after they’ve been run out and they’re walking home JP is nothing but smiles, shining so bright that Frisbee’s eyes burn.
They’re older, eighteen and nineteen respectively when they finally manage to get enough scrap to build a heap of a junk that they try and pass off as a racer. It’s a celebration enough in itself when they cross the finish line in one piece, of course, it doesn’t hurt either that they came in first place. A miracle considering they lost one of their tires coming around the turn. Frisbee’s just so relieved to be alive that all he can do is sit there as JP suddenly grabs his face and smooches him right on the lips before pulling away and laughing before getting out of the racer and cheering at the crowd while Frisbee sits there dumbfounded. He blinks once, twice, and then just shakes his head. Humans.
JP kisses him again, after races that they just barely win, or when they just barely escape with their lives intact. Sometimes it’s nothing more than just a playful peck on the cheek whereas other times it’s on the lips. Every time though its fueled by exhilaration and the simple joy of being alive, and each time JP pulls away and laughs, burning so bright that he hurts Frisbee’s eyes. People of course talk, two little nothings like them, talking big and getting into trouble, JP’s surefire attitude, and of course the occasional kiss. Of course people are going to talk, JP’s hardly been subtle about it, but all it ever stays is whispers and out of the corner of the eye glances. People just chalk it up to JP being weird, as being overly affectionate for a human. He’s got the nickname “Sweet JP” for a reason after all. Still, that doesn’t stop Frisbee from putting some distance in between them. The next time that JP moves in to kiss him on the cheek he brushes him off.
“Cut it out man, I don’t want your germs on me.” Frisbee nudges him in the ribs and JP laughs and shrugs, consenting and letting Frisbee have his personal space. Frisbee is just relieved that JP took it so well, of course he has to keep it up so that JP will get the message.
And he does, slowly, it’s not that hard for JP to give him space, they’ve been growing further apart as they’ve gotten older, each having different wants and needs. It’s not that surprising that the affection they so openly expressed for one another as children has started to cool as they entered adult hood.
Frisbee is twenty-five and JP has a girl on either arm, being the winner of the Blue Line will do that for you. Over the years Frisbee’s pulled back from driving, putting his energy and time into being a mechanic. He finds that this is where he really shines, and he can take apart a racer and put her back together in no time flat. Designs spin around in his head when he sleeps, he wants to be the best and build a racer that will win the Red Line. JP supports him, in his own quiet JP way. They’ve had more than their fair share of spats over these last few years but they’ve managed to keep it together. Frisbee is going to be the best mechanic in the galaxy, JP is going to be the top racer, they just fit too perfectly together to let it fall apart.
“Calling it a night?” JP asks him, girls still clinging to his arms.
“Yeah,” Frisbee replies, heading for the door. “It was a good race today JP.” And then he waves goodbye and heads out into the night. The walk home is uneventful, no one bothers him, people are too busy celebrating the end of the Blue Line to waste their time hassling him. By the time he gets back to his shitty apartment all he wants to do is pass out, but his brain won’t let him. Despite being physically and mentally exhausted there’s just something there, buried that he can’t quite identify that won’t let him be at peace. He lays there for a while, staring up at the cracks in his ceiling until someone knocks at his door. Opening the door he finds JP there, Frisbee moves aside to let him in. There’d be no point in trying to keep JP out, plus he was nice enough to bring a couple bottles of beer with him.
They sit and talk, drinking while they do. They talk about the upcoming race at the Yellow Line and what types of modifications Frisbee wants to make, what JP thinks would be cool. They reminisce about the old days, about the time they snuck into the race and got chased out right at the end. JP laughs long and hard when Frisbee talks about how he nearly wet himself that time their tire came off as they were coming around the corner.
“Yeah, but we pulled through right?” JP smiles and it’s so bright, he’s so bright that it sears something deep inside of Frisbee. He just can’t help it, JP’s face is just so close and he’s burning as bright as stream light, and how long has it been since they’ve actually been this close? Frisbee cradles JP’s face and goes in for the kill, JP, who has long since stopped laughing, only takes a moment before returning the affection.
They end up in bed together, somehow, with JP under him laughing and kissing him as Frisbee rocks his hips forward. Even in the dark he burns bright, searing every part of Frisbee, lighting his ears on fire as JP laughs and gasps out.
“Yeah come on Fris, just like that- come on, come on.”
And it’s exhilarating, just like racing. JP’s nothing but laughs and smiles and raw carnal heat underneath him. Every movement is popping a cap of nitro, unbelievably wonderful in the way that it feels like it’s going to kill him.
“Shit, Frisbee!”
And that does it for him, JP jerks as Frisbee sinks his teeth into the meat of the human’s neck, bruising the skin. JP rides out his orgasm and collapses boneless underneath his mechanic, Frisbee pries his teeth off of the racers neck, looking shy.
“Sorry,” The mechanic says, face tight and flushed, hair a mess as he moans into JP’s ear. The black haired racer waves it off, no biggie, and they lay there for a bit until JP starts to get fidgety. He’s not wanting to be rude but…seriously?
“Seriously man?” He asks, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, the fact that Frisbee is still cumming is one that boggles the mind. Frisbee does nothing but groan and try to bury his face in the racers neck, it’s not like this is something he can help. Simple biology isn’t exactly something he can fight against.
“Shut up,” Frisbee tells him. And JP just laughs and rests a hand on the back of his mechanics neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touch. He strokes the back of Frisbee’s neck and whispers to him to work him through the orgasm until he’s completely spent. They’ll clean up quick after it’s all over and then pass out on the bed until the sun rises and they start preparing for the Yellow Line.