Work Text:
Night fell over Revachol. The sun had settled, and the last few rays of light disappeared beyond the horizon. The dark blue sky wrapped the houses in a soft blanket of stillness.
In Jamrock, a lone blue motorcarriage rushed over the asphalt of the A42 highway, driving towards the long grey beaches. The A42 was a road of transit leading in and out of the city, often used by people for commute or delivery, truckers and merchants, people with a purpose.
But today, someone drove here who was not here for business, nor purpose – although, *pleasure* could be called a purpose as well.
Kim Kitsuragi, now lieutenant of the 41st Precinct, was driving along the coastline, the bright headlights illuminating his pathway, the windows open and the fresh sea breeze in his face.
He had transferred from the 57th to the 41st, after an exciting case with lieutenant double-yefreitor Harry Du Bois, and he was happy with that decision. He had developed a very big soft spot for Harry, he wanted to be partners with him, and who knew, maybe this work relationship could blossom into something else. A big bisexual bear who liked him equally, and who was ready to tackle a new chapter in his life? He had kissed Kim, once, on the cheek, on the balcony of the Whirling-In-Rags, and they both were intrigued by each other. Beautiful days to come, in any shape or form. At work and privately.
With a cheeky glint in his eye, Kim smiled to himself. Those were great possibilities ahead, but right now, he wanted to focus on this night and what he had planned.
One of his *usual* night drives, with an adventure at hand.
In a few minutes, he would reach the spot he was looking for:
A parking space next to the highway A42, one overlooking the interisolary ocean on a small stone plateau. By day, a popular tourist spot and resting area for truck drivers to eat their lunch, by night, an empty, cold and dark place with no illumination. A forgotten spot on the map.
And that was exactly the place Kim Kitsuragi was looking for. Dark, lonely, and private – and big enough to park a car there with a lot of empty space around it.
That parking space was now in sight, and his smile turned to a small grin.
He clutched the lever drive gear of his Kineema a little bit harder. His other hand slid the glass window shut, to shield himself from the cold of the night.
This was the place.
Kim turned the Kineema towards the parking space, and as expected, it was empty. Not a single soul in sight. Except the loud howling of the motor carriage and the bright halogen lights of his machine, there was no one here. Only the sounds of the night beach, the crushing of waves in the background, was to be heard.
The motor switched off with a full 180° turn of the car key. Kim Kitsuragi then turned the key back, by just a short 45° twist, and the key clicked into place: the car was now in standby mode: Radio, heating and lights would still work, but the motor was off. A useful setting on an RCM car during stakeouts, spy missions and urban patrol, ready to go at a moment’s notice, or ready to stay for a long time in a comfortable space.
“Haaah...” Kim Kitsuragi sighed deeply, what a long day this had been. Handing over all the transfer documents to Pryce, getting to know the whole 41st precinct"s C-Wing, being shown the whole facility, shaking many hands, and then surprise party – an exhausting day.
He was still in his RCM clothes, the orange aerostatic jacket, the white shirt, the leather gloves, the boots, all there. No time to go home and change after the surprise welcome party as well. Although, he preferred to wear these this type of clothing for a situation like the one coming up.
“Ah...!” he quietly gasped to himself and adjusted his glasses absentmindedly: he needed to change his gloves. These were still his everyday brown gloves, the other pair was in the glove compartment.
With one simple click of the button, the compartment swung open, and his deep orange gloves came into view. The ones with the little strap over the back of his hand, and the tiny window showing skin.
Kim quickly pulled off the brown gloves and put them in the compartment, while taking out the others. Ah, these smelled good, varnished leather, freshly cleaned and ready for the purpose of today. Quietly, his hands slid into place, closed the little strap – and they fit perfectly.
Next to the gloves in the box was a small bottle, see-through, with a clear, colourless, viscose liquid in it.
Kim Kitsuragi picked up the bottle with his newly-gloved hand, and then flicked the compartment shut.
In the low light of his Kineema’s radio, he looked at the label and grinned: “Saint-Honoré”, a sub brand of Saint-Baptiste, and in small, elegant letters, it said: “Saint Honoré Lube: Extra Smooth (Pocket-Size)”
Because today, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi was here to have a very good time. Some alone time with his Kineema.
Thinking back, he had always had a great interest in everything technical and mechanical, to see how these constructions work and how they achieve amazing feats. Flying aerostatic machines, TipTop Tournée racers rushing at breakneck speed, radio frequency applications that could carry voices for kilometres on end, even through pale – all fascinating.
But this machine, his Kineema he had gotten many years ago when he had risen in the ranks of the 57th? That was different.
It had been love at first sight.
He had been shown many different models, Courpis Kelvin, Coupris Clairefontaine, even a brand-new Gottwald-exclusive Coupris Karolinenburg - but no, this one, this Coupris Kineema... it had to be his choice.
And thus, he had developed an affection for his car. A deep bond to this machine. Cleaning it with a hose and a sponge every week, be it in Summer or Winter, taking good care of the leather seats and the chrome applications, varnishing and polishing them regularly. Changing out the headlamps to make the right kind of cold light fit the blue coat of paint aesthetically. Opening up the motor and screwing, hammering, testing new bits and pieces, himself covered in motor oil and sweat - all for his motor car to be more finely tuned than ever.
In his 57th Precinct, the chatter had soon begun, “He really spends a lot of time with it recently” “Is this good for him?” “Pfff, one day we will find him with his dick stuck in the exhaust pipe!”
Kim grinned, holding the bottle of lube against the dim lights of his car, a gentle shadow falling on his face.
No, they did not understand.
He would never stick his dick in the exhaust pipe.
Neither into the fuel tank, nor the oil funnel.
His love for the Kineema was carnal, yes, but not to the active machinery itself. It was the *feeling*, the *sound*, the *power* it emitted – the sensual parts of it. The soft leather chair, the haptic hard clutch of the lever, the energy of the halogen headlamps, the gentle and sensual orange light of the radio, looking at the motor pistons in their dance of moving metal parts... All of these were images of power, of aesthetics and taste. Arousing and pleasing to the soul. Not holes to stick your dick into.
But most of it all... This Kineema was *his*.
It was *his* car.
Kim had chosen it. He had tuned it. He had changed it to his taste and his needs, and it followed him to the end of the world itself. He could guide it, he could drive it, as fast as he wanted, as he desired, and his Kineema would do as it was told. Always, without fail, never letting him down. Unlike some people he had met in life.
The Kineema didn’t judge. The Kineema didn’t ask questions. It was driven by the simple touch of Kim Kitsuragi. It roared, it purred, and it screamed with speed, and together... they were one.
One single unit on the highway, rushing to their destination. Always on time, always trustworthy, always in perfect shape.
And he loved that about his Kineema, that it had become such an integral part to himself and his identity. A reliable partner in every way, shape or form.
It was-
“Oh...” gasped Kim quietly.
His eyes had glanced down and he saw that he already gotten hard. A neat bulge had formed in his tight pants in the driver seat, just by his thoughts about the Kineema alone.
Another grin brushed over his lips.
That was quick. He was in a very good mood today, he thought. Probably all the new impressions and thoughts that made his mind race.
Still, a bit of foreplay was in order, no need to rush things when masturbating in your own beloved car. He placed the little bottle of lube next to the seat, he would need it later.
Kim Kitsuragi was about to have a *good* time.
With one small twist of the chrome knob on his dashboard, he dimmed the cabin lights and turned them off.
It was just him, in his Kineema, illuminated by the warm glow of his radio. Long and kind shadows formed on his excited face in the night.
The car stood all alone on the dark beach. The heater buzzed with a low, friendly hum. The late-night sky was illuminated by the moon through wispy clouds and twinkling stars.
And so, he began.
With his new, orange leather gloves, he caressed his own body, and let his hands run slowly over his thighs.
“Hah...” Kim gently gasped, and knitted his eyebrows with beginning arousal - he loved the feeling of leather on his body, brushing over the fabric of his pants - and even more so, the leather under his body. He was in the driver seat, the very core of his machine, and he sat on that smooth surface, shifting gently with every touch.
His hand ran upwards, under his white shirt, and he gasped anew, “Ah...”, as his leather fingers went over his happy trail towards his chest.
There was something incredibly raunchy about masturbating in his official clothes, even more so in his work car. But that only turned him on more.
With one smooth move, he grabbed the hem of his own shirt and rolled it up, over his chest, then held it down with his chin. Fuck, he loved that feeling of naked skin under the orange aerostatic jacket, and felt how it made him even harder, his own erection pressing against his tight pants.
His fingers went up his own body, over his abs, until they reached... his chest. With a careful touch, both his hands slid over his own chest, grabbing his own tight pecs, and with slow, deliberate moves, he massaged his own heaving chest.
“N-Ngh...” he groaned, clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, it always felt amazing to himself there. His breath was accelerating, and he could feel his heartbeat quickening as well.
Kim’s leather-clad fingertips massaged his own chest, caressed his gentle bit of body hair, and then he felt it... his nipples got hard. Feeling them against the palm of his hands, getting more and more aroused with every touch.
“Ngah... Yes...” he smiled, seeing his own erect nipples under the orange jacket, below his rolled-up shirt, and he let his fingertips gently flick over them, grab them between his fingers. Fuck, it made him even harder, how fast he was breathing already.
A single drip of sweat began to run down his aroused face, his ears slowly turning red with rising arousal.
To Kim’s sex-focused mind, nipples were just like small knobs and buttons on a dash board, you turn them, you gently adjust them, and they do exactly what you want. Like finding the right frequency on a radio, twisting them carefully, just a bit, he was tuning his own arousal up to a higher level.
“Mnah... H-Hah...” he moaned deeply, his fingertips now circling his erect nipples over and over, and his spine began to arch with pleasure, pressing his shoulders into the leather seat supporting him.
It turned him on. It turned him on a lot. Like cables of a machine directly hooked to a control unit, his nipples seemed directly connected with his cock. It made him harder. It made him *horny*.
Kim could do whatever he wanted in here, away from the prying world and the judgement of it all. This was his place, and he wanted to fuck it. The whole concept of speed, power and freedom, his own independence it gave him, man, he wanted to make fucking sweet love to it.
His Kineema... His place to be...
Slowly, Kim Kitsuragi"s right hand slid up his chest and neck, up to his face...
“Hah... Hah...” he was panting heavily in the darkness, the low light reflecting off his orange glove in front of his craving eyes...
His lips parted, his palpitating breath huffing deeply, and then-
His gloved finger slid between his warm, open lips...
And he gently bit down on the tip, pulling the glove off with one slow turn of his head.
“Nnngh...” he moaned lowly, glove tip clenched between his teeth. One hand on his chest, massaging his pec, other one was getting stripped in front of his eyes.
Kim let go and let the glove fall off to the side of his seat, and then, he stared at his now naked right hand against the moonlit shore.
Trusty, capable hands. Freshly cleaned and washed. Stripped off. Still smelling of leather. The same hands he drove his Kineema with.
An intriguing concept about that part of his body... Hands... Tools of Control, Creativity and Expression... The vital part that made him become one with his machine. That took good care of his car and treated it nicely. The hand he patted his motor with when it did a good job. These hands that had also matured with him, bearing signs of age: gentle wrinkles, body hair, a few veins on the back of his hand.
“Ngah... Ah...” Kim groaned, his eyes full of emotion, his eyebrows knitting further with passion.
With quivering lips, he slowly approached his own naked fingers... and let two of them slide into his own wet, warm mouth.
“MMNNHH...” he groaned louder, closing his eyes. Oh... That felt good...
Slowly, deliberately, he let his fingers glide in and out of his mouth, over his wet tongue and between his lust-laden lips, moaning with every move of his head.
Like a blowjob, just for himself - Kim Kitsuragi was full engulfed in his own action. “MNAH... HAH... NNH...” he moaned louder, over and over, with every suck, fully reaching the level of sexual arousal he wanted.
Saliva ran down his hand, out of the edges of Kim’s mouth. It was *messy*. Continuously touching his hard nipple with the other hand, he was absolutely drowning in masturbatory self-love. These were techniques and actions he had honed for years to perfection, to his taste, and that validated and fulfilled him deep to his core.
“MNH... NNH... Y-YEAH...” he groaned wantonly, getting harder and harder with every passing second.
And yet, his appreciation for his Kineema did not stop, for it was the Kineema that made it all possible. This was his space, his place to be, his power, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The windows of the car began to fog up with Kim’s hot breath and body heat, the heater buzzing its everlasting supportive hum, making everything hotter as well.
The car was keeping him warm. The car was keeping him safe. Away from the eyes of the world, alone here, on this empty beach, where he could fully and safely drown in his overflowing, craving need.
Kim’s face was falling apart with lust – ears red, sweating and panting, his eyes full of sexual desire behind his glasses, open mouth licking, sucking and caressing his fingers, strings of saliva dripping off his lower lip onto his bare chest in the moonlight.
“MMNH... NNMH... NGAH...”
Being such a *mess*, letting *loose* like this... it was empowering. He could moan, sigh, groan and even scream with lust to his heart’s content, release all the built-up stress and tension, and then, return to his well-composed everyday self, as if nothing happened. This hidden balance kept him stable and relaxed to tackle anything and everything in his professional life – among many other factors, of course.
No one knew that Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi masturbated in his Kineema. What a quivering, moaning, sexually charged mess he was. And no one had to know. Because it was only between the two of them – the Kineema and him.
“MHNAH... MMMNNMH... NGAH...!!”, he moaned louder, more expressively, his tongue going between his soaked fingers, then sucking them again, letting then glide in and out of his craving mouth. Saliva continuously ran out of the edges of his pursed lips, going tight over his fingers, over and over.
His other hand, still in the orange leather glove, wandered down his body, slid over his aroused skin, over the soft happy trail, downwards, further down-
“N-N-NGAH...!!!” a big stuttered moan escaped his throat as his hand reached his crotch. As he grabbed his own erection, he threw his head back, and groaned with his mouth open, fingers quivering and wet in the air. “A-AAAH...!!!”
Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi was *fucking hard*.
The erection pressed against his tight pants at full force, the rigid shaft bulging out under the zipper and belt. His hand grabbed it tight, feeling it warm and hard under the fabric.
Kim Kitsuragi was fully invested in his action, his mind cloudy with sexual arousal and deep appreciation for his machine. “Y-Yes...!!” he muttered, quickly wiping his wet fingers on his rolled-up shirt.
Panting and heaving, he looked down himself: His chest was glistening with thin drips of saliva, his dark nipples erect, his chest lifting and sinking with every deep and expressive breath, “Haaah... Haaah...”, open aerostatic jacket on his naked torso, and his own gloved hand grabbing his bulge hard. The low light of moon and the orange glow of his radio caressing his skin.
“Heh...” Kim smirked. That looked good. He felt *good* about himself.
Sometimes, he wondered if the Kineema was just a *vehicle* for himself to express some much needed self-love and self-appreciation, to project onto a machine rather than his own body, only to come back to him in a circular mind track motion - but that was *too deep* for his shallow sex-laden mind at the moment.
He needed *release*. But before: some more *fun*.
His glasses reflected the moon light as he smiled.
With two careful fingers, he took the zipper of his fly and began to open it. Slowly, deliberately, the little unzipping *rrrrrrr* sound intense in his car, he opened it, further and further, and-
“Nnngh...” Kim groaned, more quietly and vulnerably, as he felt his erection getting more space – poking out the fly, in his black underwear.
There it was.
Hands trembling, his breath accelerating again, he opened his belt, his hands twitching as he undid the clicking metal buckle.
And so, his pants were now open. Hard erection pressing out at maximum strength, the erect shaft visible under the dark fabric.
At the tip, a little wet spot had formed.
“Heh... That ready, huh...?” he mumbled to himself, a lewd grin on his face: he was already dripping precum inside his tight underwear.
Oh, he *wanted* it. He wanted it hard today.
The best part of this evening was about to come.
With one quick move, he snatched the bottle of lube next to his driver seat and flicked it open with his left thumb immediately.
Then, he squirted a respectable amount of lube into his clean right hand, slathering it all over his palm and fingers. It was clear, viscose, and already at room temperature from the car heater. Just the way he liked it, he grinned.
The bottle was nearly empty now, so he just placed it back next to the seat again. He would have to buy a new one soon, and made a mental note for that. Nothing worse than being ready to go, and then lacking the proper tools – a rule for both mechanics and masturbation.
One hand naked and covered in lube, the other hand clothed with soft leather with an enticing design – Kim Kitsuragi was ready.
His dry hand reached for the hem of his underwear, and he let one thumb slide in. Then, he pulled down the fabric, slowly and teasingly, over the hard shaft of his erection.
“NGAH... HAH...” His moans broke out of him again, feeling his hard cock going out in the open, and his leather hand brushing the shaft gently as it went down.
Little by little, his hard cock peeked out more and more: First, the soft and wet tip, then the shaft, strong and hard, and finally, his balls.
“A-AH...”
His whole cock was revealed, naked and laid bare in the soft glow of the moon and the light of his radio.
Rigid and upright, a slight curve upwards as it stood, it was here – his leather-clad hand pushing the underwear down, now under his balls.
Kim looked down himself and grinned.
Man, how he loved this view.
Him, alone in his car, in the driver seat, naked torso and cock out, legs spread, leather under his body, under his balls, already sweating and dripped with saliva. Only illuminated by the natural cold light outside, and the warm artificial light inside.
And in the middle of it all, among the two steering levers and the big dashboard: his own strong, rigid erection – wet at the tip, hard to the touch, warm and ready.
How *dirty* it looked... This naked and erect cock among his official RCM clothes, bare chest under his jacket, but the rest still in order. A hidden surprise under all this imagery of composed professionalism – a secret part of Kim Kitsuragi, now out in the open.
His lubed-up hand reached forward, and softly, the fingertips connected. His fingers slid around the hard shaft, gliding along his warm skin and hard cock, until the shaft was firmly in his hand. Between his fingers and all over his palm, the warm and soaked lube squelched quietly as his grip went tight.
“N-N-NGHN...” Kim threw his head back, feeling his hand on his own cock, and groaned through his clenched teeth and squinted shut eyes. His shoulder blades pressed against the back of his driving seat again as his spine arched with pleasure.
His gloved hand let go of his underwear, it would hold on its own under his balls, and instead went through his hair, combing through his already sweat-dampened strands.
It was getting hot inside the Kineema, not only from his sexual antics, but from the brimming heater as well. He liked it hot in here, in his own private space, to feel warm and protected against the outside cold – and also to feel comfortable with so much naked skin on display.
His ruffled hair began to hang down in thin strands over his forehead, and – with one glance at his car"s side mirror – he loved how messy it looked on him.
“HAH... NGH... MNAH...” Kim Kitsuragi was breathing heavily, quivering with rising passion, and he looked at his crotch again: rigid cock in his hand, lubed up, wet, glistening in the moonlight and ready to go.
He smiled.
“Hmh...”
And so, it began.
His hand stroked his own cock, strong and slowly from his wrist, gliding over the hard shaft, up and down. Over and over, his cock was getting caressed by his wet, warm, dripping hand, tightly over his skin.
Up... and down. Up... and down.
“H-HAH!!! NNGH...!!! NNAH!!” The moans simply broke out of him, it felt so satisfying. His open mouth was craving more, calling out his lust, wanting to release this built up stress that was now accumulating as tension in his loins.
It was a lot of voice for a room so small.
His eyebrows knitted further with passion, calling out and breathing deeply with every new stroke, oh, it made him feel so good.
“Oh fuck...!!! Hah...!!! NGNHH!!” The lieutenant moaned louder as his strokes got faster. In the stillness of the night, he could only hear his own excited breathing, his own accelerating heartbeat in his chest, the rustle of his clothes, the gentle clicks of his open belt buckle hanging down, and the quiet *slapslapslap* of his jerking off motion.
Suddenly, with one swift move, he grabbed one of the steering levers with his leathered-up left hand, and began to slowly stroke the long metal bar.
“Hmm...? Do you want some fun too? ... Huh, Kineema...?” Kim whispered wet through his panting, his face torn into a lewd smile – sweating, grinning, trembling with sexual arousal.
This was something private. Intimate. And he wanted his car to also feel the love.
Of course, the car was just a car. It would not *feel* someone stroking its metal steering levers and have a feeling towards it. It was an object, a vehicle for transportation. Kim knew that very well.
But right now, Kim Kitsuragi wanted to *feel* it: to jerk someone beloved off next to him while he was masturbating as well. Show his machine the love and appreciation he felt, what it meant to him.
“You like that... Hah... Don’t you...?”
The warm glow from the radio seemed to flicker with confirmation:
*Of course...*
Sometimes, but only sometimes, he did wonder if his Kineema had a mind of its own.
“Let’s go then...”
His hands were now in unison, stroking the lever and his cock with the same speed and vigour. His right palm gliding over his erect shaft and the clutch tip, the other left hand, leather on steel, wandering up and down the cold metal – getting warmer with friction.
How good it felt... How intense it was... To feel connected to his car, to be openly passionate to himself and his own vehicle...
“GNH... M-MNAH... H-H-HAH...!!” Kim moaned louder, panting and stuttering, fully enamoured in his lustful act, wanting passion, giving passion, his body tensing up more and more with rising sexual energy.
They were together... They were both hard... Kim’s tongue was twitching in his open mouth, licking off his drool as he threw his head back, “YES...!! Y-YES...!!! HAH!!!”, his voice getting higher and more expressive with every passing second.
How much he wanted to jerk someone off while masturbating himself... Make out... Kiss... Hold... Make sweet love...
Ah...
H-Harry...
“Nh...?” Kim twitched, and wondered, his strokes coming to a short halt.
For a second, the face of Harry Du Bois had appeared in his mind. That friendly bisexual bear...? Him...?
...
“Hm!” Kim scoffed with a smile: looks like he had fallen for this man more than he thought. Maybe it could be something for the future, who knew.
But right now, he wanted to focus on this here act between himself and his Kineema.
So: he concluded that he was hornier than he thought, thinking about his new partner when this was just supposed to be a jacking-off session in his car... He wanted way more...
That was it: He was craving more than *masturbation*, he was craving *sex*. Not just wanting the physical release, but the act itself.
“Looks like I have to take out the big guns then...” Kim grinned again, and let go of both his cock and the metal steering lever.
The heater was buzzing lowly and steadily, the radio emitted warm orange light, and Kim Kitsuragi shook his hands a little, regaining some feeling in his fingertips.
What he was about to do was definitely not usual in his “sessions”. He only did it when he *really* needed it, or felt so stressed out that this was the only way to *let go*.
For it was intense, deep, and downright *excessive*.
And he was about to do it, again.
Right now.
“Well then...”
CLACK
The lieutenant’s gloved hand pushed down the small lever on his driving seat, and the backrest reclined. A good comfortable angle.
He would not do this while sitting...
No.
This was different.
Kim Kitsuragi turned around with a smooth roll, getting on his elbows (to not touch the leather with his lubed up hand) and then, onto his shins.
Slowly, he rose, knees on his seat, shins on the leather, his pants sliding off his tight ass to his thighs.
The moonlight reflected in his RCM patch of the back of his jacket, shining on brightly.
“Hah... Yes...” he moaned deeply, feeling as if he was getting even harder for what was about to come.
He was towering over the backrest, facing it head-on. Kim Kitsuragi was strapping *erect*, his lubed up and hard cock also facing the backrest with him. His shirt, his jacket, his pants and shoes still on his body, only his hard shaft revealed at his core.
Dripping with precum.
Quivering with anticipation.
Thin, glistening drips falling from the tip of his cock onto the leather seat.
“Kineema... C-Come here...” he whispered, his voice wet with arousal and hoarse with pure lust.
And so, he bowed down, his lubed up hand going back to his cock, and his other gloved hand... around the driver seat’s back.
His face met the top head rest, cheek to leather, and his hand grabbed the back of the seat tightly, fingertips pressing against the strong fabric and upholstering.
He was now in an intense missionary top position, in a one-sided hug with the driver’s seat.
Legs spread, shins on leather, boots in the air, and ready.
“Ah... Kineema...” he moaned again, and closed his eyes with knitted eyebrows as these passion filled words fell over his wet lips.
This was his way to hug his Kineema. To fuck it. To make sweet love to it.
Holding his wet, soaked and capable hand still, while fucking the tight space and hard grip with long, deep thrusts. Fucking his hand.
And in spirit, fucking the Kineema while hugging it.
See, not to stick his dick in the exhaust pipe, no no no.
To hug his driver’s seat, and make love to it. Fuck it, jerk off against it. Cum all over the smooth dark leather while hugging it and loving it, moaning his car’s name over and over.
Then, once the act was done, in the same caring way, he would clean and varnish his seat with great affection and patience, remove all the traces and leave it as spotless as it always was.
True catharsis.
Deep love and appreciation.
It was time.
Kim Kitsuragi’s lubed up right hand grabbed his own erect cock and he started to move his hips. Slowly, he thrust inside the tight space of his grip, and felt the lube drip between his fingers and his erection.
The sensitive tip went through, followed by the rigid shaft, and then, he pulled out again, only to thrust deeper inside.
“G-GAAA-NNH...!!!” A hearty, deep moan broke out of him, it felt *intense*. He hugged the driving seat tighter – he didn’t let go. His cheek rubbing against the headrest like a big cat marking his territory, he continued.
Contracting his ass muscles, the gentle shine of the radio lights and the moon caressing his bare skin, he carried on – to fuck the tight space of his wet, soaked hand.
Over and over, “HNAH...!! NNNGH...!! HAH...!!! Y-YES...!!!”, moaning expressively with every deep thrust, his left arm hugging the big shoulders of his seat.
Kim"s eyes squinted shut, his glasses were sliding askew against the seat, and he was sweating now more than before. Thin strands of his wet, black hair stuck to his forehead and fell over his eyes, his mouth was open and drooling, saliva dripping on the seat.
“GNAH...!!! HAH...!!! K-KINEE... MA...!!!!”
41st Precinct RCM lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi was fully losing it.
Drowning in viscose, thick lust engulfing his brain, his mind oozing nothing but sexual desire, pouring out his passion unfiltered through his voice and body. His eyes fogged up, craving sex and release.
He *wanted* it.
He wanted so much more than just *CUM*, he wanted to *FUCK* - to *make love*, to *thrust* deep inside the tightness, the wet and soaked warmth around his fast shaft, to *enter* the very soul and core of his machine.
*Slapslapslapslap* went the sound of his loving thrusts again, his cock going in and out of the tight palm of his hand, belt buckle clicking with his thrusts as it hung down next to his body, clothes rustling in the intense atmosphere. He synched up his jerking movements and his thrusts now, enhancing both, feeling more, thrust and fuck... Harder... Faster... More...!!
“NNNGH!! NMMH!!” he clenched his teeth, groaning deeply, until the moans simply burst out of him again: “GAH!! NGAH...!! M-MNAH!!”
It was now fully impossible to keep it down. His passion expressing itself in every shape it could: the loud sexual voice, the sweat on his skin and dripping off his hair stuck to his forehead, his wet tongue in his open moaning mouth, his deep and hard thrusts into his lubed-up dripping hand, his skilled fingers and palm grabbing his shaft, gliding wet over it, his naked ass thrusting and muscles contracting in the moonlight, his intense hug, his hairy thighs quivering with rising passion, and finally - his fast cock dripping clear and thin precum drips off his sensitive tip.
“A-AH...!!!! HA-AAA!!! KI... KI-KINEEMAAA!!!” Kim Kitsuragi’s moans were nothing but a strong, deep, hoarse whimper anymore, loud and vulnerable, and now he felt it:
It was coming.
Tensing up as it ran over his spine, it was coming at absolute break-neck speed.
He was more than just a *mess* - he was a total filthy *wreck* held together by pure lightning and fire, fueled by nothing but overflowing sex and hot lust.
Kim"s gloved hand clawed at the back of his seat, gripping it harder than he had ever done before, now fully screaming, “HAH!!! NGAH!!! OH MY GOD... YES!!! KI... KINEEMAAAAHAHAAA!!!” his voice getting torn apart, drooling, sweating, fucking, fucking, fucking inside that tight space, so wet, so soaked, it was dripping, he was so hard, his cock twitched, oh god, he was so close, so close to the finish line, he got faster, harder, so much more of everything, oh FUCK, it was coming, oh god, oh GOD, he suddenly saw a face, the face of Harry, fuck, naked, laid bare, his hairy thick body, his tight hole, moaning, hah, ngah, calling out to him, hugging him, kissing him deep, getting fucked, he was fucking deep inside Harry, spread him, fuck h-him, how warm he was, so intense, so wet, tongues gliding along each other, kiss, make out, he wanted to hear him, hear his deep sexual voice, call out his name, Kim, Kim, Kim, fuck me, fuck me, oh my god, fuck, fuck, thrust inside him, his voice, his voice was falling apart, Harry’s thick cock swaying, with every thrust, precum, twitching, Kim, Kim, please, I want it, I want it inside me, fuck me harder, more, faster, deeper, deeper, fuck him, oh my god, f-fffuck, Harry, Harry, HARRY, K-KINEEMA, KINEEMA, I LOVE YOU, OH FUCK, OH GOD, THAT WAS TOO MUCH, TOO MUCH, IT WAS HERE, THERE IT WAS, OH GOD FFFFFFUCK-
“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Kim was cumming hard in vicious shots, over and over, splattering white semen all over the driver seat, over his own bare chest and chin, his cock twitching and throbbing in his tight hand, oh fuck, fuck, so much, so much, he was moaning and screaming at full force, clawing at the seat with never before seen intensity, hugging, fucking, fucking, cumming, his open mouth dripping saliva and sweat on the leather, eyes turning upwards into his skull, eyelids fluttering with sheer emotional overload, glasses askew, his voice nothing but a hoarse, whimpering, groaning onslaught of emotionally expressive noises in this small and hot space, “GAH!! AAAH!! NGAAAH!!!”, so much voice, convulsing and quivering with each new cumshot, again, again, cum, hold on, hold on, hold... oh god, he was sweating so much, so wet, now breathing deeply, his soaked chest heaving, panting, panting, panting so much, oh my god... Oh my...
Hah...
Hah...
“Hah...” moaned Kim, breathless.
His whole body was twitching and quivering, his cock throbbing like a second heartbeat in his hand, oozing thick white drips.
He let go of his shaft, rapidly going flaccid, last droplets of cum to the leather, and his hand simply fell down to the seat – defeated.
“Ah...”
He was utterly *spent*.
Absolutely *done*.
Holy shit.
Fuck.
The vicious climax was over.
Kim’s eyesight returned, view fogged up from this intense release and orgasm, and slowly let go of the hug.
“Nnnngh...” he groaned lowly, sitting more upright and back on his shins.
There he sat now, on his knees, bare ass, jacket open, in front of his work:
The driving seat backrest was splattered from top to bottom with white, dripping semen. All over, glistening in the radio glow and moon light.
“... W-Wow...” he whispered, genuinely in awe.
That was *a lot*.
Really *a lot*.
Probably the most he had ever... *done at once* in his car.
“Ah...”
His fingertips were still twitching.
His chest splattered with saliva and cum, dripping slowly off his skin to the seat.
How...
How long had it been since he had last...?
Kim tilted his head and began to think:
The case with Harry in Martinaise had been a while ago, so he had been busy afterwards with paperwork and healing from his concussion. Plus the transfer procedure to the 41st, lots of visits to offices and officials.
Then, before that case?... But he had so many cases in Precinct 57 before that, always so stressed out, always driving everywhere, that...
“Huh...”
He honestly couldn’t remember.
So what he was looking at – was weeks, probably months of stress culminated into a single *vicious* release.
Wow. What a sight.
But it was more than that, as the heavy fog of sexual arousal was lifting from his brain, regaining clarity.
Kim clasped his face, leather glove on his cheek, deep in thought, mind racing now that the shackles of lewdness had fallen off.
The post-orgasm clarity was settling in fast:
Harry.
He definitely had feelings for Harry.
Never before did he have sexual fantasies when he was jerking off in or fucking his Kineema in spirit. It had only ever been the two.
And what a fantasy...
This whole image of a naked, hot and heavy Harry accepting him, letting him in, hugging him, kissing him, Kim spreading him, entering him, with his tongue, and... loving him...
“...”
Kim pursed his lips. His ears began to feel hot, and it was most definitely not the heater.
This was not *normal* for Kim Kitsuragi. This was something else.
*Exceptional*.
“Khm...” he cleared his hoarse throat, dry from all this panting and moaning.
Thankfully, he had swerved his mental imagery around just before he came, to cum to the thought of his car, not Harry, but...
There was no point in arguing, wasn’t it?
Overlooking the huge amount of semen on his leather seat, he concluded that he should definitely talk to Harry soon. Maybe that fantasy would become true... To make sweet love to him... Kiss him... Grab his thick, hairy thighs... Spread him... Fuck him, deep... Hear his passionate deep moans... His voice... F-Fuck him until he cums all over himse-
“G-Gh...!” Kim twitched. One final drip of semen fell off the tip of his cock, and onto the seat. He was now fully flaccid, cock satisfied and soft.
... Thinking about Harry was having quite the effect on him, wow.
...
“OH GOD!” Kim exclaimed, and his heart rate shot upwards again: he had to clean up this mess or else it would leave stains.
He would not be able to forgive himself if he had sullied the beautiful interior of his car (and dreaded to explain to the RCM mechanic for the yearly inspection what exactly the stains on his driver seat were).
Immediately, he reached under the seat, and pulled out a small tin box, opened it, and frantically, his hand reached for the handkerchiefs first.
He pulled them out, and began to wipe off this whole mess on himself and the seat. Removing the liquid, and drying his own self, chest, skin, hands – he also wiped off his chin, which he had splattered in his vicious orgasm too.
The act of cleaning after his mess - on himself and on his car - was always a part that soothed his soul:
The horny times were over, it was time to go back to reality. Go all out on the act itself, but take your time to return from it. Clean yourself and your beloved car – life awaits you, Kim Kitsuragi.
The used papers he simply threw in a little bag he pulled from the tool box, and left it next to his seat. Then, after tucking his genitalia back where it belonged, closing his pants and belt, and rolling his shirt back down, he took a piece of cloth from the box, and applied some water from his drinking bottle to the cloth.
With gentle circling moves, he rubbed the damp cloth to the leather seat and it slid over his seat with great care. All his own body fluids were removed, and made way for his own beloved sense of cleanliness.
Kim smiled.
With the other side of the rug, he wiped the rest of the water off, blotting off the moisture.
Many people thought that leather needed a complicated way of care, but no, water regularly when needed, and conditioner every few months, that was it. So simple, yet so straightforward.
The conditioner cream he would apply once he got home, it would leave stains on his own clothes if he would sit in it. He would leave it on overnight, when he would be asleep.
There. All done.
He gave his own work a small nod.
Time for the final step of his routine.
Kim Kitsuragi turned off the motor with a final turn of the ignition key, opened the door - and stepped out into the fresh sea breeze.
“Aaah...” he sighed, as the salty wind caressed his skin. It was always refreshing to step out of the heat, and into the night – as if re-emerging onto the stage of real life. His car, this hot room of sex, raunchy dreams and deep excess, was now behind him.
The wind blew through his wet sweaty hair, making the few soaked strands flutter.
He left the car door open, to let the crisp ocean breeze in, and to chase out the smell of sex-filled sweat and stuffy heat. With a swift grab, he took his second glove that had fallen next to the seat, and put it back on.
Ah, two gloves on two hands. All back in order.
There he stood, Kim Kitsuragi, boots on stone pavement, on a parking space plateau on the beach, next to his Kineema, his beloved.
The moon re-emerged from a couple of wispy clouds, and draped them both into its calm, relaxing atmosphere. The waves of the interisolary ocean were singing their song of night – water waning, crashing, again and again.
Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi reached into his breast pocket, and took out his packet of cigarettes and lighter.
He pulled out a cigarette, and he gently took it between his lips. Then, he lit it, the lighter flame flickering strongly in the wind, dancing against the odds of the world, and finally he could take his first breath of tobacco.
“Haah...” he exhaled, the blue-grey smoke dissipating into the night.
Nothing better than the only cigarette of your day being the one after sex.
Well, after masturbation.
...
It had been sex, really. In its performance and ... feelings.
Kim Kitsuragi was pensive, mulling over his thoughts in his mind like the waves crushing into each other, collapsing and brushing over the beaches. Going back, coming again...
He should really talk to Harry, if he felt this way too. Go out together. Get to know each other better. Invite him for drinks, some dinner sometime. Now that they were partners, they would spend a lot more time with each other. For a second, Kim remembered the kiss, Harry had given him on the balcony of the Whirling-In-Rags, how his eyes had marvelled at him and how soft his mutton chops beard had caressed his face...
Maybe... maybe his fantasies would come true. And more than that...
It made his heart jump, and the corners of his mouth pulled up to another smile at the sheer idea of it. This warm thought: a bear boyfriend...
...
Ah, but of course: He took another drag from his cigarette, and gently patted the side of his car.
“There, there...” he whispered into the night, “Don’t worry my dear, no one will ever replace you.”
The Kineema didn’t answer. It stood on the stone pavement, as calm, reliable and sturdy as ever.
“Hm-hm..!” chuckled Kim to himself.
It truly was a *vehicle* of self-affirmation and self-validation, this big blue car he called his own.
He should take it to the garage tomorrow, and give it an extra twirl, some enhancements, another oil change, and check for anything the motor car needed.
Kim looked up, and saw the stars twinkling in the night sky.
The smoke coming out of his mouth with a deep exhale seemed to ascend to the firmament, but then blew away gently, like fleeting thoughts that brush over the mind – one moment they are here, clear as day, then they go away again, to the nowhere place they came from.
Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi basked in the light of the night, the moon and the stars – relaxed, at peace, and fully satisfied.
Inhale the ocean sea, the cold of the world and the past of Elysium...
Exhale the warmth, the smoke of memories and future unwritten...
The cigarette getting shorter with each new breath, the tip glowing orange whenever his careful lips took another drag.
Inhale...
Exhale...
...
It was time.
He gave his car another gentle pat, “Come on, let’s go home!”, extinguished the cigarette on the heel of his boot, threw the stub in his ashtray on the dashboard, and swung himself up to the driver seat.
The door slammed shut, and the motor started howling again, roaring in the darkness. The halogen headlamps ignited, their cone-shaped lights illuminating the world in bright white.
And slowly, the Coupris Kineema moved, turned to the left, towards the highway A42 again.
No one was here, there were still alone on the coast of Jamrock.
With a final big roar, the Kineema drove back onto the highway, wheels rushing over the pavement.
In the deep of night, this blue car made its way back home to Kim Kitsuragi, carrying him along, just the two of them: one unit, one special relationship, one new thought about their future.
And if you listened closely, behind the roar of the motor, you could hear a jolly whistle in the night, in the driver"s cabin, a song of anticipation and gladness - bright as the voice of a sparrow in spring.
THE END