"AAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! OH, MY GOSH! LOOK OUT FOR THE EEEEEEEEEEE-"
Just the feeling, the freedom, of driving Mutt is enough to make Mike half hard every time he sits down in his car and starts Mutt up. The growl, the rumble, the squeal of the tires against the road, it stirs his blood and makes it sing in a way that nothing up in Detroit Deluxe ever could. Not fighting, not Kane's praise, nothing.
However, driving with Chuck in the car has introduced Mike to a kink he never knew he had.
Back when he was Kane's apprentice, the other guys would talk about the people they'd banged in their off hours, how hot or talented their partners had been. Kane had kept Mike busy, he hadn't had the time back then to do more than occasionally jerk off, much less find someone else to do more. There were cameras in his quarters, but he was lucky enough to have a private shower. A few quick tugs on his dick in the falling water, the thought of someone else's hand, anyone that wasn't his own, and he was done.
No major kinks, no strange fantasies, just taking care of business and getting on with his life. Thoughts of pain or violence never fascinated him. He always slightly... 'vanilla', as Julie would put it.
"Ohmigosh! Mike! Mike! MIKEEEEEYYYYYYYYY~!"
But there's something about the screams, the shouts, and the cries Chuck makes as Mike drives. Mike never bothers with blaring music in the car when he's got Chuck next to him, he doesn't want anything to cover them up. It makes him feel a little dark, a little dirty, like a twisted smudge or a stain in him.
It's something that's just his, not 'Mike Chilton the Burner' or 'Defender of Motorcity' or 'Kane's Cadet Mike Chilton'. Just plain old Mike, who likes to drive fast with his best friend screaming his head off in the seat next to him.
"Okay, okay. We're okay." Chuck ran a hand through his hair, momentarily showing his eyes before his blond hair dropped down, obscuring them again. He typed on his monitors for a second, mumbling softly to himself before speaking up. "We're gonna need to head east from here and Waaaguuugh!!! NOT SO FAST!! "
Chuck never seems to shut up, at least according to their friends, but Chuck doesn't scream like this with anyone else. Just Mike. Chuck knows he's safe with Mike, that Mike would never let something happen to him while they were in Mutt. That's what the eject button is for, and Chuck will use it if Mike pushes him too hard, too fast.
Sometimes, Mike likes to think he is the only one Chuck is comfortable enough around to actually let himself scream. Chuck's got different kinds of screams too, like a hidden language that only Mike has ever learned.
The loud ear splitting screech, usually mistaken for a girl scream, is the most common noise. Mike's a bit of a thrill junkie, the rush and speed of Mutt gets his blood pumping, makes his senses seem sharper, grounds everything. Chuck can't seem to process adrenaline the same way, for him he burns it off vocally, throwing everything in his lungs into those cries.
It's like the revving of an engine before peeling off into the endless night of Motorcity, the orchestra tuning up before the symphony. It's the start, the beginning.
Mike has occasionally wondered if it's the sound Chuck would make if he 'accidentally' missed Mutt's gear shift one day and grabbed a handful of Chuck's denim covered crotch. If Chuck would be as hard and as hot as Mike is, if he also got off to their driving.
The screaming is usually followed by the helpless sounding gasps and whimpers, small chants usually uttered the during the moment of realisation that they were about to do something 'crazy reckless' and Chuck was going for for the ride regardless. These noises were often made while Chuck was working, acting as Mike's eyes and ears, feeding Mike information, scanning the area, directing Mike where they needed to go, hacking KaneCo's technology on the fly.
In his fantasies, it's the noise Chuck would make when Mike takes Chuck's dick in hand, fingers wrapping around the silky length of it, Mike's thumb rubbing the the top if the leaking crown. Chuck's hips jerking in time to the sounds he makes, directed by the movement of Mike's hand, or grabbing Mike's hands and showing him the pace Chuck prefers. Tortuously slow, or fast like the world was going to fall down on them at any minute, none of them really had a middle speed.
"MMmmurghh! Mmmpgh! Gneeeegh!"
Then there's the sound that drives him really crazy. It's when Chuck tries to muffle his screams, fingers or hands covering his lips, in his mouth. Sometimes, when he needs hands free, Chuck just bites his lower lip as he focuses. Never enough to draw blood, but enough to leave his lower lip red and puffy from where it's been abused.
Mike would love to be the one doing that, his hands on or in Chuck's mouth, to be able to feel the vibration of Chuck's screams against his skin. Or better yet, to feel that against his mouth, swallowing Chuck's noises, drinking them down, taking them inside of him, making them a part of himself. He wants to rub himself all over Chuck, wrap those impossibly long legs of his around Mike's waist and hold on while Chuck screams against his skin.
"Ooohhh... Oh, my gosh. OOohhhhh..."
Chuck's vocalisations makes Mike wants things he doesn't know how to explain. All he knows is that he wants them with Chuck, Chuck screaming, and preferably Mutt factoring in there somewhere.
And he never, ever wants Chuck to shut up. As long as Mike can hear him, Mike knows where Chuck is, and that he's doing alright.
"Gneeeeeeee...." Chuck leaned as far away from the door as he could, clutching the centre console, tucking his legs in close to his body. Even with the 7-point restraining harness holding him safe in Mutt, Chuck's got an amazing amount of flexibility. It gives Mike half-formed images that make his body feel hot, but nothing concrete.
But until Mike knows what he wants, other than Chuck screaming beside him, he just drives a little harder, takes the turns a little sharper, and takes a few more risks than he might otherwise. And it's worth it, completely worth it to hear the noises Chuck makes in the next seat.
Mutt fishtails slightly around a corner and Chuck flails, one of his hands reaching across and grabbing hold of Mike's thigh with a death-grip. "You tryin' to kill us MikeEEEEEEEEEEEEEYY!!!!"
Mike just grins at the contact, pushes the gas pedal to the ground, and heads home faster, his name on Chuck's lips.