Prompt #26 & 27
Oct. 27th, 2019 03:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soobiebearPrompt number: 26 & 27
Fandom (AU if applicable): Top Gear/ Grand Tour
Rating: Adult/NC-17/16+ based on your region
Warnings/Tags: Will be any and all eventually, probably. Homosexual smut for certain. Masturbation.
26. “You keep me warm.”
Andy had said India. Chris had said India. Phil had said India. They packed light, ready for the oppressive heat and humidity of the southern continent.
They were right with Mumbai and Jaipur, the light fabrics and cotton blends not doing much to alleviate the oppressive heat but not trapping it against their skin either. Delhi was no cooler, roasting them alive even without the fireworks.
Except until they went past Shimla, climbing the Himalayas in the surprisingly reliable cars. They had no choice but to camp. The hotels and towns thinned out to non existent on the mountains. Richard was in his element. Cold, but bundled up in his cocoon sleeping bag and used to a bit of kip in a rockpile.
James and Jeremy were miserable. Both with bad backs and frozen to the core neither slept. James could hear Jeremy rustling in his tent over the chattering of his own teeth. The pillows were little more than sacks of fabric scraps and the blankets they had been given were transparent. The sleeping bags were so slick that the blankets wouldn’t even stay on to begin with.
At 13,000 feet and quickly succumbing to the cold it was difficult to talk. Jeremy had thoughts of getting into his car and letting it idle all night. He would be out of petrol in the morning and dead from the fumes, but he would die warm. If he made it. The guy wires were invisible in the dark and the campsite was littered with large piles of animal dung.
“Jeremy,” James called from the next tent with all of his breath. “I’m very cold.”
James never called him Jeremy. He could hear the abject misery in the man’s voice, both wanting to kill Hammond but not able to do anything during the cryogenic process.
Jeremy’s leg was numb. His zipper was broken on the sleeping bag and the stupid blanket had slid off again. Gathering up a deep, oxygen deprived breath he grabbed his rock pillow and bondage inspired sleeping bag and carefully walked the meter to James’ tent. He didn’t trip or slide on feces, and managed to climb through James’ flap without letting out the tiny amount of warmth that had built up.
This was colder than the north pole. If his brain didn’t hurt he would wonder how a place could be so deathly cold. “Budge over,” he said as he dropped his pillow and rolled out his bag. Both big men they wouldn’t fit two in a bag, but they could wrap up together in two bags.
James lifted his hands and felt Jeremy’s knit hat and hood drawn over it. Jeremy got a whiff of James’ foot fungus as more fabric trailed across his face, not the fingers he had been expecting.
“I’m going to die up here.” James was shaking as bad as a poorly tuned diesel engine.
Jeremy reached out through the layers of puffy coats and thermals. “You keep me warm.” He pulled James in close and wrapped the sleeping bags tightly around them.
27 “Can you wait for me?”
“James has picked a stupid car.” Jeremy lost track of how many times he’d said that to the windscreen mounted camera. James was still behind him, the Aston keeping up with the Porsche and Lambo. “If I had no air conditioning I’d look ridiculous right now.”
Of course it was scripted. They’d been running the gag from the coast all the way up to the mountains, James sweating and bouncing and being crushed by the track car as Jeremy and Richard sat in relative comfort. He was well hydrated and had a portable fan between takes but it looked good on film.
Jeremy trusted that the camera crew was getting good footage of miserable James and that James was savvy enough to play it up on the in car camera.
They had to do a few takes at the Stelvio Pass, climbing back up the mountain as the drones and follow car reset. Jeremy and Richard got out to stretch their legs and decided to cluster around James’ car when they noticed he wasn’t getting out.
“That’s a bold fashion choice there.” Hammond leaned against the door of the Aston and pointed at James’ naked torso, pale as ever and drenched with sweat.
“Is that circa 10,000 BC? Great year for loincloths, that was.”
“Shut it.” James chugged from the massive two liter water bottle. “I, as a proper presenter, have to suffer for my art.”
Jeremy stooped down to look into the window. “Is that what they call it now?” He made a jerking off motion, sending Richard into hysterics.
“Just because you’re jealous...” James re-adjusted his shirt which was draped over his lap and giving him the barest hint of modesty
“I’m not jealous of you, this is a bad choice of cars.”
“No AC, no radio, no seat cushioning, no carpeting....” Jeremy listed off all the Aston’s deficits.
Hammond was nodding along now, siding with Jeremy. “Now the 911, that’s a good car.”
“The Superleggera has been perfect this entire trip.
“Well, except for the filler cap,” Hammond commented.
“Let’s not get bogged down with minute details.” Jeremy conveniently rolled over his own car’s flaws. “The Vantage N28 was a stupid choice.”
Richard agreed. “He’s right.”
“Sorry, but you’re wrong. This is a good car and I love it.”
Jeremy gawked. “You’ve complained the entire time, ‘My poor buttocks’, ‘ouch my testicles’, you’ve sweated through your clothing, and now you’re going to be naked on national telly.”
“This car gives me the fizz.” Jeremy and Richard both rolled their eyes. “I’m going to be the one who can say I wanked it on the Stelvio while you two imbeciles are worrying over the stitching on your leather seats.”
Eyes were immediately drawn to James’ lap. “Oh god, you’re not seriously...” Hammond looked at the cameras mounted all over the inside of James’ car. “At least hang your shirt over that one.”
“These last shots are all aerial and externals. No one will know.”
“I bloody well will.” Jeremy leaned in closer, not wanting the rest of the crew to hear. “Normally I’m pretty tolerant of your fetishes, but keep it in your pants.”
“What pants?” Richard sniggered.
He knew how May got when he was defiant. Almost mute and with a look of determination about him, all Jeremy could do was hope they got their deposit back without any cleaning charges.
They split up when the crew was ready. Jeremy carefully set the walkie talkie in the center console and hoped the airwaves stayed fairly clean. “Can you wait for me?” He ignored James’ plea. If the man wanted to tickle his jollies he would have to drive by himself, far from the rest of them.
“When ever you’re ready Jeremy. We’ll launch the drone after you set off.” The AD’s voice came from the console, checking in with the camera car and various cameras stationed along the descent. Jeremy clicked the air con up another notch just because he could.
He started slowly, letting everyone follow down the twists and bends. “Rather warm out today, isn’t it?” Richard’s voice came across the handset and Jeremy picked it up.
“It’s a lovely day for the drive. Have my AC up to 3 and I barely feel the heat.”
The line crackled again. “Same here, this air conditioning just feels so good against the sunlight coming in.” Hammond made the sharp turns, slowing the Porsche and being safe. Jeremy checked his mirrors and saw James’ yellow car and the gray Land Rover behind him.
“James has been awfully quiet on this run, hasn’t he?”
Jeremy completed another hairpin turn before picking up his walkie talkie. “It only takes one hand to steer, there’s no reason he can’t talk.”
“I think he might be trying to double clutch,” Hammond said as they sped through a smooth section.
Jeremy chucked, thinking himself witty. “Clearing his carburettor.”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
Jeremy steered into another sharp right turn. “For his sake he’d better have both hands on the wheel.” Jeremy eased off the brake as he came out of the turn, engine bucking to go. “Crashing is your area of expertise.”
The handset crackled again as Hammond rode down the curve. “Nah, see, I’m great in the turns.”
Jeremy bit his cheek, not believing Richard had given him the perfect setup. “Sort of like James, who hasn’t quite figured out going straight yet.” He watched in his mirror as James cleared the turn and brought up the rear.
“Yes, like... No!” Jeremy’s belly shook with the force of his laughs. “Oh god, why would you do that to me?”
He looked at the camera again, hoping they were getting all this on tape. The last switchback was rapidly approaching, the grade levelling out and pine trees lining the roadsides. There wouldn’t be much to film at the bottom of the ravine.
“Gentlemen, this is the final thrust.” He paused, waiting for Richard to complain. “Let’s go hard and ride this bitch until she finishes.”
At least a grunt from James would be better than the radio silence. Jeremy had no clue if he had finished halfway up the mountain or if he was still working himself. Jeremy dropped his walkie talkie and purposely spun the tail of his car around the last hairpin in a sort of modified handbrake turn. Sadly, there were no girls to witness his display of manliness and the trees obscured the drone footage.
“Jeremy, that was purely masturbatory.” Hammond came around the turn slower, more cautious since his brush with death. The black tire marks claimed the Pass as Clarkson’s. It was as good as a flag.
“A little personal indulgence never hurt.” James didn’t rise to the bait, still silently trailing in his Aston. “Anyone hear from James on the way down?” There was still a stretch of road until the turn off they were using as a meeting point. The rocky slopes left little room for carparks.
The walkie talkie crackled again as the assistant director grabbed the airwaves. “James has put something over his camera, but unfortunately he forgot about the audio.”
Jeremy laughed so hard he almost wet himself.
Fandom (AU if applicable): Top Gear/ Grand Tour
Rating: Adult/NC-17/16+ based on your region
Warnings/Tags: Will be any and all eventually, probably. Homosexual smut for certain. Masturbation.
26. “You keep me warm.”
Andy had said India. Chris had said India. Phil had said India. They packed light, ready for the oppressive heat and humidity of the southern continent.
They were right with Mumbai and Jaipur, the light fabrics and cotton blends not doing much to alleviate the oppressive heat but not trapping it against their skin either. Delhi was no cooler, roasting them alive even without the fireworks.
Except until they went past Shimla, climbing the Himalayas in the surprisingly reliable cars. They had no choice but to camp. The hotels and towns thinned out to non existent on the mountains. Richard was in his element. Cold, but bundled up in his cocoon sleeping bag and used to a bit of kip in a rockpile.
James and Jeremy were miserable. Both with bad backs and frozen to the core neither slept. James could hear Jeremy rustling in his tent over the chattering of his own teeth. The pillows were little more than sacks of fabric scraps and the blankets they had been given were transparent. The sleeping bags were so slick that the blankets wouldn’t even stay on to begin with.
At 13,000 feet and quickly succumbing to the cold it was difficult to talk. Jeremy had thoughts of getting into his car and letting it idle all night. He would be out of petrol in the morning and dead from the fumes, but he would die warm. If he made it. The guy wires were invisible in the dark and the campsite was littered with large piles of animal dung.
“Jeremy,” James called from the next tent with all of his breath. “I’m very cold.”
James never called him Jeremy. He could hear the abject misery in the man’s voice, both wanting to kill Hammond but not able to do anything during the cryogenic process.
Jeremy’s leg was numb. His zipper was broken on the sleeping bag and the stupid blanket had slid off again. Gathering up a deep, oxygen deprived breath he grabbed his rock pillow and bondage inspired sleeping bag and carefully walked the meter to James’ tent. He didn’t trip or slide on feces, and managed to climb through James’ flap without letting out the tiny amount of warmth that had built up.
This was colder than the north pole. If his brain didn’t hurt he would wonder how a place could be so deathly cold. “Budge over,” he said as he dropped his pillow and rolled out his bag. Both big men they wouldn’t fit two in a bag, but they could wrap up together in two bags.
James lifted his hands and felt Jeremy’s knit hat and hood drawn over it. Jeremy got a whiff of James’ foot fungus as more fabric trailed across his face, not the fingers he had been expecting.
“I’m going to die up here.” James was shaking as bad as a poorly tuned diesel engine.
Jeremy reached out through the layers of puffy coats and thermals. “You keep me warm.” He pulled James in close and wrapped the sleeping bags tightly around them.
27 “Can you wait for me?”
“James has picked a stupid car.” Jeremy lost track of how many times he’d said that to the windscreen mounted camera. James was still behind him, the Aston keeping up with the Porsche and Lambo. “If I had no air conditioning I’d look ridiculous right now.”
Of course it was scripted. They’d been running the gag from the coast all the way up to the mountains, James sweating and bouncing and being crushed by the track car as Jeremy and Richard sat in relative comfort. He was well hydrated and had a portable fan between takes but it looked good on film.
Jeremy trusted that the camera crew was getting good footage of miserable James and that James was savvy enough to play it up on the in car camera.
They had to do a few takes at the Stelvio Pass, climbing back up the mountain as the drones and follow car reset. Jeremy and Richard got out to stretch their legs and decided to cluster around James’ car when they noticed he wasn’t getting out.
“That’s a bold fashion choice there.” Hammond leaned against the door of the Aston and pointed at James’ naked torso, pale as ever and drenched with sweat.
“Is that circa 10,000 BC? Great year for loincloths, that was.”
“Shut it.” James chugged from the massive two liter water bottle. “I, as a proper presenter, have to suffer for my art.”
Jeremy stooped down to look into the window. “Is that what they call it now?” He made a jerking off motion, sending Richard into hysterics.
“Just because you’re jealous...” James re-adjusted his shirt which was draped over his lap and giving him the barest hint of modesty
“I’m not jealous of you, this is a bad choice of cars.”
“No AC, no radio, no seat cushioning, no carpeting....” Jeremy listed off all the Aston’s deficits.
Hammond was nodding along now, siding with Jeremy. “Now the 911, that’s a good car.”
“The Superleggera has been perfect this entire trip.
“Well, except for the filler cap,” Hammond commented.
“Let’s not get bogged down with minute details.” Jeremy conveniently rolled over his own car’s flaws. “The Vantage N28 was a stupid choice.”
Richard agreed. “He’s right.”
“Sorry, but you’re wrong. This is a good car and I love it.”
Jeremy gawked. “You’ve complained the entire time, ‘My poor buttocks’, ‘ouch my testicles’, you’ve sweated through your clothing, and now you’re going to be naked on national telly.”
“This car gives me the fizz.” Jeremy and Richard both rolled their eyes. “I’m going to be the one who can say I wanked it on the Stelvio while you two imbeciles are worrying over the stitching on your leather seats.”
Eyes were immediately drawn to James’ lap. “Oh god, you’re not seriously...” Hammond looked at the cameras mounted all over the inside of James’ car. “At least hang your shirt over that one.”
“These last shots are all aerial and externals. No one will know.”
“I bloody well will.” Jeremy leaned in closer, not wanting the rest of the crew to hear. “Normally I’m pretty tolerant of your fetishes, but keep it in your pants.”
“What pants?” Richard sniggered.
He knew how May got when he was defiant. Almost mute and with a look of determination about him, all Jeremy could do was hope they got their deposit back without any cleaning charges.
They split up when the crew was ready. Jeremy carefully set the walkie talkie in the center console and hoped the airwaves stayed fairly clean. “Can you wait for me?” He ignored James’ plea. If the man wanted to tickle his jollies he would have to drive by himself, far from the rest of them.
“When ever you’re ready Jeremy. We’ll launch the drone after you set off.” The AD’s voice came from the console, checking in with the camera car and various cameras stationed along the descent. Jeremy clicked the air con up another notch just because he could.
He started slowly, letting everyone follow down the twists and bends. “Rather warm out today, isn’t it?” Richard’s voice came across the handset and Jeremy picked it up.
“It’s a lovely day for the drive. Have my AC up to 3 and I barely feel the heat.”
The line crackled again. “Same here, this air conditioning just feels so good against the sunlight coming in.” Hammond made the sharp turns, slowing the Porsche and being safe. Jeremy checked his mirrors and saw James’ yellow car and the gray Land Rover behind him.
“James has been awfully quiet on this run, hasn’t he?”
Jeremy completed another hairpin turn before picking up his walkie talkie. “It only takes one hand to steer, there’s no reason he can’t talk.”
“I think he might be trying to double clutch,” Hammond said as they sped through a smooth section.
Jeremy chucked, thinking himself witty. “Clearing his carburettor.”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
Jeremy steered into another sharp right turn. “For his sake he’d better have both hands on the wheel.” Jeremy eased off the brake as he came out of the turn, engine bucking to go. “Crashing is your area of expertise.”
The handset crackled again as Hammond rode down the curve. “Nah, see, I’m great in the turns.”
Jeremy bit his cheek, not believing Richard had given him the perfect setup. “Sort of like James, who hasn’t quite figured out going straight yet.” He watched in his mirror as James cleared the turn and brought up the rear.
“Yes, like... No!” Jeremy’s belly shook with the force of his laughs. “Oh god, why would you do that to me?”
He looked at the camera again, hoping they were getting all this on tape. The last switchback was rapidly approaching, the grade levelling out and pine trees lining the roadsides. There wouldn’t be much to film at the bottom of the ravine.
“Gentlemen, this is the final thrust.” He paused, waiting for Richard to complain. “Let’s go hard and ride this bitch until she finishes.”
At least a grunt from James would be better than the radio silence. Jeremy had no clue if he had finished halfway up the mountain or if he was still working himself. Jeremy dropped his walkie talkie and purposely spun the tail of his car around the last hairpin in a sort of modified handbrake turn. Sadly, there were no girls to witness his display of manliness and the trees obscured the drone footage.
“Jeremy, that was purely masturbatory.” Hammond came around the turn slower, more cautious since his brush with death. The black tire marks claimed the Pass as Clarkson’s. It was as good as a flag.
“A little personal indulgence never hurt.” James didn’t rise to the bait, still silently trailing in his Aston. “Anyone hear from James on the way down?” There was still a stretch of road until the turn off they were using as a meeting point. The rocky slopes left little room for carparks.
The walkie talkie crackled again as the assistant director grabbed the airwaves. “James has put something over his camera, but unfortunately he forgot about the audio.”
Jeremy laughed so hard he almost wet himself.
