Jump Start

by Karen Botha

  “It’s worth it.” He rubs his nose against the tip of mine before landing a quick kiss there. “Now, we’d better get up otherwise Jessie will have our butts.”

  Kyle

  “You’re an Internet sensation,” Jessie says as we poke our heads around her door before work.

  “You like?” Elliott asks.

  “Oh, I like, and Kyle, you did brilliantly. You two will be offered your own talk show before long. People love you.”

  I grin and the residue of tension which I’d been holding in my shoulders floats away. I ignore her comment about the TV show.

  “I thought we’d done OK when I saw the coverage this morning, but it’s always good to hear it from you,” I say.

  “You look like you enjoyed it Kyle?”

  “I did. There’s so many activities that we can’t do so easily, that it’s nice to get out. What do you have lined up for us next?”

  Her eyes widen. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “I’m assuming the toilet video is now old news?” Elliott asks.

  “Oh for sure. But it won’t do any harm to get you out and about in the press more if you’re happy with it.”

  She runs through a few potential gigs that Elliott already has planned in and we decide that if she can swing it, we’ll attend as a couple. We’re also going to use the hashtag for our social media so we have more control over our exposure.

  “So, #KEL away,” Jessie says after running through a list of photo opportunities she suggests we set up. “I want you out there with Elliott as much as possible, Kyle. We can make you a star as well.”

  I’m shell shocked when I leave Jessie’s office and head back down to the workshop. This is where I most feel at home. The radio is playing in the background and the teams are just changing shifts, joking and teasing as they hand over their to-do lists. There’s a gentle buzz of excitement, but it’s calm.

  I’m happy with Elliott and I had fun last night. I do want to go out on more adventures; it makes a nice change.

  But.

  That is where it ends.

  I have no desire to be a talk show host, or an Internet sensation. I never wanted to be a star.

  I enjoy being in the public eye, but only because that is the price I pay for being Elliott’s partner. I don’t want stardom in my own right.

  I settle down with a spanner under the car, twisting my wrist at an angle to gain access though a tight gap. It requires concentration to not drop the washer from the magnetic end as I work. I wedge my broad forearm to reach deeper into the crevice, and my skin catches on a razor sharp edge. It stings, but I don’t retract. I remain steady, continue my work. The reality of the pain is good. The bite is grounding, bringing me back to what is honest. I need to hold on to this, to not allow myself to be carried away on Elliott’s wave. Our relationship is authentic and so is this job, but all the surrounding paraphernalia is just froth.

  Kyle

  We’re at a TV awards event, and the glamour of being out and about is wearing thin already. I crave our personal life. I clap my hands, politely conforming to the expectation that I’m delighted for the success of strangers who I only recognize from television. They act all flustered on the podium, and blush, and stutter their rhetoric of thanks.

  And I’m bored. I’m so bored I could cry.

  All the while we’re sitting here paying homage to the Twitter hacks, I could be at home. A home we will be leaving shortly for another season of racing and one where we’ve not spent enough time since we moved in together. All the upheaval has gotten in the way of that.

  “I'd like to head off,” I whisper in Elliott’s ear at a suitable break in proceedings.

  “What, now?” His head spins to face me.

  “Yeah, do you mind?” I know he’ll say no, and so we make our apologies.

  It’s only when we’re in the car that Elliott asks, “Why did you want to leave?”

  This is it. The moment of truth, I have to seize this opportunity. “I was bored. These PR appearances are not really my bag, El. I’m happy to go to the odd one or two with you, but I miss our home life.”

  He’s quiet, studying the shadows of a moving landscape outside the car window.

  I hesitate, unsure what he’s thinking. “I love our personal time so much I don’t want to trade it for fame.”

  “This is part of my job Kyle. I thought you enjoyed us spending our time together.” His brow is crinkled in a question mark.

  “I do.”

  “Well, why does it matter where we are then?”

  “It doesn’t. When we’re on the road, I’m happy in your camper, but this is different.”

  “How is it? It’s still you and me.”

  “But it isn’t though is it, El? It’s you and me and everyone else. We don’t get to talk to each other because we have to be quiet and clap or cheer, or make polite conversation with any number of people who we neither know nor care to know. And for what?”

  “For the sake of keeping me in the public eye so that I can command a huge salary either from the gigs I get asked to do, or from my racing team because I’m a more valuable asset.”

  They say there’s always two sides to every story and I guess I’m not making mine well enough. I pause, regroup, sigh, and then try again. “I understand that, but if you are the best driver you possibly can be, then isn’t that going to garner those things for you, anyway?”

  “This is to add a layer of security over the success of my driving. You do think I’m the best, don’t you?”

  Ah shit. Here we go. Elliott is touchy about a few things and him being the best is one of them. “Yes, of course you are, but you reached that elite status when we weren’t going out so much. If we keep up this social regime, and you don’t have time to recuperate, don’t you think it will affect your ability to perform to your optimum?”

  Elliott

  Now, he has a point there. As always, Kyle forces me to see life through alternative tinted glasses. The color is consistently rosy, but it may just be a different shade, and I don’t ever have a preference of one tone over another.

  This is one of those moments when I would merrily have gone along in one direction, but making a U turn isn’t an issue.

  “OK,” I say.

  “OK?”

  “Yeah, we won’t take any new appointments now unless we’ve both agreed that we’d like to attend. We’ll treat our acceptance of invites more as a social arrangement rather than publicity whoring.”

  He leans in and kisses me. His lips are soft, his gentle touch leaves my tender skin tingling as he pulls away. His fingers enclose my hand within his and I feel shy. For some unspoken reason, I stare directly ahead instead of meeting his eyes. The energy is vibrating between us and my heart catches in my throat, making my breath light, a rapid flutter of heartfelt emotion.

  I continue to gawk at the headrest of the empty front seat, aware of Kyle’s every detail. I feel his arm next to mine even though we don’t touch. I enjoy the burn of his fingers laced over mine against the cold of the leather seats and savor the closeness of his foot. I nudge mine up to his shoe, widening my legs into a V.

  Our hands slip comfortably onto my thigh. I hear the air rush from my lungs as he leaves my hand and slides his own down my jeans to the center most point of that V where it rests.

  I expand beneath the heat of his touch. He doesn’t massage, doesn’t grip me or apply pressure of any kind, but with just the merest hint of our togetherness, I stiffen. Kyle doesn’t look at me, nor acknowledge the thick lump forming under his palm. Instead, we stop speaking, a quiet suspense of time, and acknowledgment of our connection.

  The silence, so heavy under the cover of the night sky, would be lost in the chaos of the daylight.

  My limbs are no longer taking directions from my mind. My thighs shake from the power of Kyle’s touch as a peace only obtained from being lost in the moment with the one you love seeps into my pores. My hand trembles and I place my now tacky p
alm on top of his, unaware of everything else, other than just us. His fingers shift to fold around mine until they mesh.

  And then he squeezes tight. The movement is imperceptible from where our driver sits in the front of the car, but our secrecy is thrilling. My groin becomes the bottleneck for the rush of blood which drives through my cock, slamming into my bulging head. Throbbing pulses down the insides of my thighs, tensing my muscles and contracting my balls.

  My mouth falls open and finally I allow myself to meet Kyle’s eyes. I lock onto his dark gaze as a shadow from the moonlight highlights the deep contrast against his overly pale skin. His hand clenches just enough to make me shift in my seat to ease the pressure. He’s smiling at me without even a hint of his lips curling upwards, allowing me to be part of a private, hidden gesture of his intentions.

  Kyle

  He expects me to take him as soon as we’re through the door, so I ignore him. I make my way, still unspeaking, up our stairs. He follows behind me as I enter our bedroom and then turn to face him as I unbuckle my belt and relish the indulgence of springing free with one swift movement. My trousers and underwear fall to the floor. After making a show of clenching my abs as I lift my shirt up to remove it, I nod at him with hooded eyes.

  His lips tilt at the corners as he mirrors my striptease and I allow myself to observe the tiniest details, my eyes lazy with lust.

  He stands, naked and proud, and now I’m on him, turning him and slamming him against the wall.

  “Don’t ever assume I don’t want to spend time with you, but this is where I want to be.” I growl the words into his ear before biting down on his lobe.

  He doesn’t reply, but he gasps at the pinch and turns his head so his cheek is flat against our whitewash. My teeth graze the sinews down the side of his throat. He tilts his head presenting me his most vulnerable part. My hand snakes up and I throb between his buttocks as the tips of my fingers connect with his Adam’s apple.

  He catches his breath, waits, and I wrap my fingers around his neck catching on his stubble. He swallows and moans.

  “Ah, you like that...” My breath is warm as I whisper in his ear and when he replies his voice is gruff.

  “Yeah, I like it.” He’s confident and vulnerable all at once and I love him all the more for it.

  Wiping a slick layer of lube between his butt cheeks, I gently push a finger inside him. He spreads his legs wider, still allowing me to pin him tight between my hard body and the cold wall. Working around until I have space, I insert another and then I bend, kneeling behind his straddled form to circle inside him, to curve my fingers against his special spot.

  He pushes his forehead to rest against the wall and slides one hand from where he’d been bracing himself. It lands on his cock and he starts to ease the pressure with a vigorous beat.

  “Stop that. Behave yourself.” His hand ceases, but it lingers. “Move your fingers, back up by your shoulders.”

  He’s a good pupil. As he places his hands out of the way he presses his butt back onto me, forcing my fingers to slide further inside him.

  “Ahhh.” He moans as his hips gyrate, working their own rhythm to my internal oscillation.

  I can bear it no longer. I stand and I slam deep into him, my balls smacking against his skin. The force of my angry crashing squashes his cheek as he relents to my power, collapsing his face against the wall. I curl my wrist to take his cock in my hand, each thrust of my hips beating my arm against the plaster as I work him from his front and rear.

  The crescendo curls my toes into the thick pile of the carpet, sending shivers from my quaking knees to my balls and surging up through my swollen penis. The all consuming passion renders my body useless, out of control. My hand stops, Elliott grasps it, tightens my grip against him as he thrusts between my furled fingers.

  He cries out as he comes and I discharge inside him.

  “Wow, I guess you can’t do that if you’re out,” he whispers when he’s recaptured his breath.

  And I smile, having successfully demonstrated the sanctity of our home.

  Elliott

  “I’m going to show you the joy of us staying in,” Kyle says the next morning as we wait for the blender to finish its racket.

  “OK. How?”

  “Just makes sure you’re home on time tonight.”

  And so, I do. And for once, Kyle arrives before me. I’d expected to walk in and find a naked chef like the other time he surprised me after a hard day testing, but no. He’s fully clothed and there’s not a dirty pot in sight.

  “So what’s happening then?” I ask, wondering what we’re going to eat tonight.

  He hands me a bottle of beer. “It’s OK, it’s alcohol free. I know there’s still sugar in it, but it’s a fair compromise.” It’s not a question, so I swig from the neck.

  “Come here.” Kyle takes my hand and leads me into the lounge with a huge grin spread wide, displaying his gorgeous teeth. There’s still nothing going on in here. The place is exactly as we left it this morning, so I’m struggling to see what all the fuss is about. But he’s looking really pleased with himself for someone who hasn’t arranged jack shit.

  Instead of speaking my thoughts, I smile and sit as directed in my spot on the sofa. He hands me my lounging gear and a blanket. “Now, you get changed and settle under that while I just go and organize something.”

  I nod, not really seeing why this is a great night, but do as I’m told anyway, slipping off my work clothes. I’m still clueless when he rematerializes. I’d expected him to arrive with a big surprise in tow.

  But no.

  Nothing, only him.

  And still no smell of food.

  He takes his seat on the opposite sofa and picks up the remote, clicking on the TV.

  That’s it? He turns the television on? “What are our plans then?”

  He grins again, although he hasn't stopped since I walked through the front door, so really it’s better to say that his grin widens. “We’re going to Netflix and chill,” he says.

  “Not from your place on the opposite sofa, we’re not.”

  He pulls his blanket to his chin before snapping his head round toward me. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you can’t Netflix and chill from separate settees.”

  “Why not? This is way more comfortable than us both being squished onto one sofa? How can you chill properly when we can’t spread out?”

  “Kyle, do you know what Netflix and chill is code for?” I’m stifling a huge burst of laughter, because it’s clear he doesn’t.

  He scrunches his brow, pausing before answering, “What are you getting at? How complicated is it El? Netflix. And. Chill out. I’ve chosen us a great movie to watch and we can relax at home together in our personal space in a way that’s impossible anywhere else.”

  That’s it. I’m done. It starts as a chortle, spurting out from between my sealed lips. The more I try to suppress my laughter, the stronger the heaving in my stomach grows and I howl. It won’t stop and poor Kyle is just looking at me with bemusement. His confusion further fuels my convulsions to the point where I have to swing my legs free of the sofa and sit on the edge, bent over with my feet on the floor.

  “What is wrong with you?” He has one hand on his head, the other palm stretched out toward me.

  I try to curb my snorting, taking heavy breaths as my eyes stream. “It’s just that Netflix and chill is code for making out.” My pitch soars as I reach the end of the sentence, my words fading into another frenzy.

  “It’s not that funny.” Kyle turns away from me and settles back under his blanket intent on fiddling with no more than the remote until the TV springs to life.

  Elliott

  I have to give Kyle his due. While I teased him incessantly about his naivety, his version of a Netflix and chill evening made a very good point. He ordered pizza and served it with a salad he’d prepared ahead of time and kept in the fridge. Although it wasn’t my usual healthy option, I enjoyed it pr
obably all the more for it being normally off limits and the whole evening was delightful.

  His argument had legs.

  We sat, and we watched the movie and then headed up to bed at a reasonable hour after a relaxing few hours spent in each other’s company, tired with our mood serene.

  Once we’re under the covers, we do something we never have the energy for normally. We each lie on our backs, our sides sealed together, holding hands.

  “Did you enjoy tonight?” He shuffles so his head rests against my shoulder. His hair brushes my cheek and I smell the sweet waft of his shampoo.

  “I did, but then I always do when we’re together. I love being around you.”

  He pauses. “Me too.” His voice is dreamy, but not sleepy.

  “You’re right, Kyle. I get what you were saying. I don’t want to ruin our special time alone either.”

  He shifts, but doesn’t speak for a while. When he answers his words are gentle. “It’s not that I don’t want to go out and enjoy the exciting opportunities your profile can provide us, but we spend so much of our lives around other people that it’s important for us to not squander our home time when we have it.”

  I peck my lips against the top of his head. “Sure, you’re right. We’ll do more alone time from now on. I promise.”

  He rolls onto one side so he faces me, propping his head up with his bent arm. “Thank you, Elliott Judd. I love you.” As he reaches down, his lips land on mine in a slow kiss.

  We don’t open our mouths, and I feel the familiar warmth that rises when Kyle is close by. But this time I don’t have the urgency to slam into him. Instead, I’m happy to share his space, to appreciate him and allow our energy rather than our bodies to do the connecting.