kindkit: A late-Victorian futuristic zeppelin. (Airship)
[personal profile] kindkit
Title: Five Times James Made An Effort, and One Time He Didn't Have To
Fandom: Top Gear RPF
Pairings: James/OFC, James/Richard, James/Sarah, James/Oz Clarke
Rating: Adult
Warnings: None needed
Word count: 600
Summary: James works at being a proper, normal man.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's based on the public personas of real people, but the words and events are all made up.


Karen's not bad, for a girl. She doesn't twirl her hair or laugh like a policeman's whistle, and in maths she often knows the answers.

On the other hand, she wears bright red lipstick and her breasts stop her blazer closing properly. She's probably interested in babies and Coronation Street.

But she'll do. It's time James had a girlfriend, or so his dad says, and his mates, and even his mum occasionally. There's more to life than Airfix and Ferrari posters.

Deep breath, shoulders back. Duty calls.

"D'you fancy going to the pictures?"

She smiles, and James decides he's happy.


He's read about what to do, and preparation, as usual, has paid off. It's going well. Deborah's wet down there, and she makes a noise when he touches her. She even touches him back, too lightly, but it's enough to keep him hard.

When he takes her she moans but doesn't flinch. Probably it's not true that she's never done it before. That's all right. It feels good inside her, better than wanking, and he thrusts, wondering who she's been with, how many men, how they touched her, and he comes and at last he feels like a proper man.


"The Bentley," Jeremy Clarkson announces after James proposes the subject of his first Top Gear film, "is a ridiculous car for homosexualists."

"I'm not a homosexual."

"Are you sure? Maybe the Bentley represents your deeply repressed desire to join a special gentlemen-only club."

"I'm sure. Could we talk about locations, please?" James feels unreasonably irritated and distressed. He doesn't see the point in mocking homosexuals. Poor chaps, they'd be normal if they could. They just can't manage it, however hard they try. They failed where James succeeded. He practised normality like he practised the piano, and he's not a homosexual.


"This is brilliant, mate," Richard says, sorting gleefully through Lego bricks. He's still got a black eye from the concussion, and every time he says "mate" James wonders if he's forgotten James's name. "Really brilliant. Thank you."

James has worried a lot. It's pent-up fear that suddenly takes him over now, making him want to pull Richard into his arms and hold tight to the tough little miracle of that unbroken self. Feel Richard's skin and smell the scent of his hair.

James steps back, and the impulse fades a little. "It's all right, Hammond. It's nothing, really. It's nothing."


"We should live together," James says. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Sarah rolls a bit of cake around the plate with her fork.

"Well, we're hardly too young. And I'm tired of people asking about it."

"Serves you right for giving so many interviews."

"You know I hate it. And I hate them poking about in my private life as though it's abnormal."

"But you need your own space. You've always said so. And so do I."

"It won't be easy. But we can work at it."

"Well. All right," she answers, looking thoughtful. "I suppose we can try."


Shouldn't have got drunk. Shouldn't have gone on this wine-guzzling fake holiday. Shouldn't have shared a tent with Oz, Oz whose mouth is moving down James's belly, licking him and oh Christ kissing his cock, opening to suck him, and James gasps.

He's been sucked before, but it wasn't like this. Sex was never like this before, not with anyone. Not with any woman.

It's so easy.

It's so good.

His hand's on Oz's cock, wanking him, simple thoughtless motion. Instinct. Nature.

James comes fast, effortlessly, like gravity, like the foundations of his life finally buckling and falling to pieces.


kindkit: A late-Victorian futuristic zeppelin. (Default)

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