Written For: trek_rpf_kink, for this prompt
Word Count: 1,529
Summary: Road head. Bill is annoying and Leonard loves it.
Disclaimer: This didn't happen, duh.
"Left, Len, it says to turn left."
"Don't be ridiculous, Bill, that wasn't even a road."
"It was! It had a signpost and everything. You're just jealous."
Leonard Nimoy had long ago come to terms with the fact that Bill Shatner was totally unpredictable. He had crap reasoning, bad ideas, and even worse execution. Really, he was just sort of awful all around, which completely didn't explain why Leonard was ridiculously, madly in love with him.
"Fine. I'm jealous of your superior being-a-dick skills. Is that really where we were supposed to turn?"
There was a suspicious sort of silence, and Leonard couldn't help the way he smirked.
"I'll take that as a no."
"Just keep driving until I tell you," he grumbled, shaking the map a little.
Leonard was pretty sure that they were lost. They were supposed to have arrived approximately, oh, forever ago, and he had no idea where they were or how they were getting back. By all accounts, he should have been furious, or at least a little upset with the situation in general. He can't even bring himself to frown.
"Bill, nothing on that map is going to tell you where we are," he points out, gesturing with a hand and letting it settle on the clutch.
"I know where we are," he muttered mulishly. "We're..."
"...Halfway to San Diego. Where we're not supposed to be."
Bill pouted at him.
Leonard rolled his eyes. "Don't you dare give me that look. I'm not the navigator, here."
"Neither of us is. Where's Chekov?!" he called like the obnoxious man he was, but Leonard just laughed. It was funny, somehow, though if he was really Spock and Bill was really Kirk they'd never've ended up here in the first place. Spock would've done the legwork, and Kirk would be driving.
He was still thinking about that when he felt a kiss against his hand, and as such he had a rather Spock-like reaction, looking over and raising an eyebrow and very, very nearly saying 'Captain?' Which, really, was nothing he hadn't done before but usually they're still in costume. Or only half in costume, and half naked.
The map was... somewhere, pushed off to the side maybe, but Leonard was paying way more attention to the lips on his hand that were slowly migrating... up his arm... to his shoulder... and he kept driving in a straight line but managed to give Bill a very weirded-out look. "What are you doing?"
"Shh. I'm distracting you from my ineptitude. Eyes on the road, officer."
He blinked. "Yes, sir," he said, because there wasn't anything else to say, except for maybe, what the fuck.
Leonard Nimoy had sensitive hands. He was pretty sure that was how the whole Vulcan-hand-porn idea started, from that one night when he was tired and Bill was playful and he'd managed to get him off with nothing more than a mouth on his fingers. He only remembered that night vaguely, mostly just a haze of intense pleasure and being totally incapacitated, unable to respond to the sensation that that hot mouth was invoking. But that's where it had all started, he was sure, and though he forgot a lot of things sometimes, Bill never seemed to forget this one. Especially not at times like these - you know, when he really, really wanted him to.
He could have just pushed him off and told him to shut the fuck up; Bill would've listened. Maybe. But he was curious where he was going to take this. Was he really going to be able to distract him? Were they going to crash into a tree because of this? Well, there weren't any trees around, but that was beside the point. A rock, maybe. A-
His hand, the one he didn't need, the one that always rested comfortably on the gear shift, was now not on the gear shift. It was in Bill's hand, and his fingers were pressing right under the sensitive joints in the palm of his hand, and he was gasping without thinking.
He was kissing his neck, now, hot little kisses that were just sultry enough to be a giant fucking tease. Bill's hands - stupid, uncoordinated hands that he logically should've hated just like the rest of him - were squeezing at the pads of his fingers, pressing down a little too hard, brushing a little too softly, and the goddamn impossibility of it all was what was turning him on.
He wasn't good at this. Leonard shouldn't like it.
He let his hand go and Leonard yanked it back, clenching both of them tight on the steering wheel and deliberately, forcefully focused on the empty stretch of road. He tried to calm down, to let up on the gas pedal, they were speeding something crazy - but then Bill's hands were unbuckling his belt and brushing up against him in all the wrong places and "What the goddamn hell are you doing, Bill, seriously."
And then he gave him that Look. That Look that he did with those big bright gold eyes, and a tiny little quirk of his mouth, and everything in his face that screamed I AM UNDRESSING YOU WITH MY EYES. BE NAKED AT ONCE. "Keep your eyes on the road, Leonard."
Oh, he was so going to strangle him for this. Hard. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as his lover ducked down, shoved all of his annoying clothes out of the way, and closed his lips right around the head of his cock. He didn't swerve but the car stuttered, jumped forward and he forced himself to calm the hell down, really, it was just a blowjob.
While he was going fucking 50 on a 35-mph road.
Calmdown calmdown calmdown, he swore at himself, trying desperately to ignore the way William Shatner's lips were inching down on his cock. Crawling, kind of, and it was too slow and too tight but he shuddered.
"Bill. I can't drive with my dick in your mouth," he growled, trying not to let his eyes close and keep watching the little yellow lines fly by.
Well, he can't reply with your dick in his mouth, he told himself, but maybe that'll make him stop.
Nope. Not happening. He heard him, oh of course he did, Leonard could tell from the way his tongue slid to cup the underside of his cock. Like it was laughing at him, laughing out of spite.
He let one hand leave the wheel and knotted it in Bill's hair, breathing shakily. He was moving with more purpose now, more purpose but no more skill, and this was going to drive him mad. Or he would hit that truck and they'd both die.
Then he slid up and did this stupid little licky thing over the head of his cock and Leonard snarled, jamming a foot on the brake. "Stop fucking around!!"
"Keep going," Bill murmured, and Leonard realized he was breathless. He never sounded like that, not unless he was really into it, and he was sucking cock like it was cruel torture, how could that be hot?
He tapped on the gas, regaining the speed he'd lost from their impromptu pause. Why am going along with this, he thought. Why the fucking hell am I even considering going along with this.
Then Bill slid his lips over his cock again and it was sultry-sweet, lavish, warm and hot and painfully, drastically pleasurable.
Oh, right. That's why.
He made sure to give the truck a wide berth to begin with, he really didn't want anyone hurt if he lost control at an inappropriate time. The left wheels slid off the road, jerking them down and Bill moved with it, letting the momentum thrust him in deeper. Leonard moaned like a hooker and grabbed for Bill's hair again, using one hand to get them back up onto the road.
But now there was no one there, no one to care if he swerved that much to the right or that much to the left because his lover was goddamn awful at blowjobs, but the motion of the car sure went a long way to convincing him otherwise.
And then he used his teeth and Leonard hated it when he did that - and he came.
"You are so bad at that," he muttered in a half-growl, half-gasp, watching Bill wipe the traces off his lips and lick them from his fingers.
"You love it," he countered with an easy smile, then flicked his stare forward. "Eyes on the road, Len."
And that was the problem, really. He did.