Knight Rider slash - Knight/KITT
Feb. 1st, 2007 09:35 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
roadstergal.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rareslashTitle: Auto Erotica, part 2 of 4.
Fandom: Knight Rider.
Rating: PG-13.
Commentary/criticism: Welcome. roadstergal@gmail.com
Timing: Season III.
Notes: Part 1.
KITT never left a subject alone until he had researched it thoroughly. However, three hundred twenty books and fifty-seven erotic films later, he was still very confused. One thing was completely clear - for most humans, the reproductive act was engaged in purely for pleasure, with no actual reproduction desired. But there, the clarity ended. The rituals surrounding the reproductive act were staggering in their complexity. Complexity appealed to KITT on a mathematical level, but the heterogeneity of human sexual response took complexity a bit too far, in his opinion. Acts and words that enhanced the sexual act for some had no effect on or were actively unappealing for others. Some even enhanced their enjoyment of the act by pretending that it was being performed on them against their will.
The idea of sexual orientation was more than complex enough in and of itself, KITT pondered. Once he had accepted that the reproductive act was not engaged in for actual reproduction, the idea that it might be engaged in between members of the same sex made perfect sense, of course. However, 'sexual preference' was terribly important to humans. KITT was glad that he had done this research - he had not realized before what a substantial faux pas it was to misidentify someone's sexual orientation! The logic behind that offense eluded him, however. It was apparent that this 'sexual preference' was not one of the simple human preferences that he was familiar with, such as Michael's preferences for spicy food or blondes; it was nonbinding, and the man would happily eat bland food or appreciate a brunette. KITT had even formed a few preferences of that nature of his own, and he was quite proud of them. No, this 'sexual preference' went deeper, was more binding, and had strong societal pressures behind it. KITT was baffled. As many of the activities people engaged in involved stimulation of the sexual organ by organs on the other person that were not sexual, why was the distinction so important?
Perhaps, KITT mulled, there was a psychological interaction between the provider of the sexual service and the recipient. Something like friendship, but a friendship that was influenced by this strange, pervasive idea of sexual orientation.
It was all very interesting, KITT decided, and tried to put his ruminations to a practical purpose. From the reading he had done, coupled with his observations, it seemed that Michael was straight. Perhaps he found KITT appealing, but found his male voice off-putting. KITT wondered if Bonnie would be able to alter his voice projector to be female - maybe Michael would find that more pleasing? KITT decided that he would broach the topic after a period of further observation, with this research in mind.
The further observation would have to wait, however, as KITT was interrupted in his reverie by the subject of said reverie popping the door open and swinging inside. "Ready to go, partner?" Michael asked. The question was merely a pleasantry, and KITT did not even bother with a reply as he started his engines, brought his systems fully online, and relinquished control of his automotive functions to Michael. They screeched out of the garage, leaving two streaks of black on the concrete. KITT could almost hear the muttered expletives of the FLAG custodian as he meticulously cleaned off the rubber, knowing that it would just be there again the next time the pair left. It was silly, it was wasteful of tires, and it was not as neat and clean as KITT liked every other part of himself to be - but he had to admit to himself that he loved it. He loved everything about being a car; the burnouts, the fishtails, the power slides, the turbo-boost jumps, the feeling of his tires balancing just on the edge of traction as he screeched around a corner, g-forces tugging at his composite body. It was all thrilling.
KITT felt the nudge of a connection at one of his I/O ports, and it had the whiff of Bonnie. He opened the port, allowing data to flow in. Devon tapped impatiently at his A/V link, and KITT opened that connection for Michael. "Devon calling."
"Yo, Devon! What's up? What's today's mystery?"
"No mystery," Devon said, gravely. "This is an interception. Four terrorists of unknown affiliation have stolen a number of munitions from a local Army dump, and are headed roughly south on surface streets. The guns they have stolen are making things... rather difficult for the local constabulary. We need you two to go stop them."
"Righto!" Michael said, as cheerfully as if Devon had told them to go fetch ice cream. "Does KITT know where we're headed?"
"Bonnie has uploaded the information to my databanks," KITT interjected. "Whenever you're ready, Michael."
"Well, let's get moving!"
Devon gave his usual, "Be careful, Michael," before signing off.
KITT flashed a map up on his display. "They are headed south on Cabrillo Highway. I suggest we take this route," KITT lit his proposed route on the map, "and head them off at the pass, as the westerns would have it – and away from any population centers."
"Ride 'em cowboy!" Michael said. KITT took that as agreement, and gently turned the wheel in Michael's hands. They flew down the tarmac at speeds that would be suicidally reckless if traveled by a normal driver in a normal car. With KITT's tires, brakes, and radar system, it was a perfectly reasonable speed. KITT liked reasonable.
They pulled onto Cabrillo Highway and slowed down. "What do they look like?" Michael asked, peering around at the empty road.
KITT accessed the data that had been passed onto him. "They are in a black pickup truck with a standard cab. It is carrying four men, all in fatigues, with black stocking caps on. I only have an estimate of the weapons they might have taken, but they almost certainly have high-powered automatic rifles and at least one grenade launcher."
Michael whistled. "That's quite an arsenal. Black pickup truck, eh? Like that one?"
KITT had already noted the vehicle. "My scanners indicate that the vehicle contains four humans and a number of weapons. I cannot tell, at this distance, what the nature of the weaponry is."
A loud, staccato brrrap sound split the air. KITT felt stings all over his hood, windshield, and A-pillar. Bullets - and from their feel, conventional ones. Nothing that would penetrate, but they would burn and itch like holy Hades for a while. "That's a pretty good answer!" Michael yelled, grabbing the wheel and yanking. The stings disappeared as he swerved KITT swerved out of the way of the bullets, KITT's tires kicking up rooster tails of dust from the dry dirt shoulder. The noise of the guns paused; KITT estimated with 98% certainty that the people in the pickup were merely re-aiming.
KITT took a few nanoseconds to ponder what action to take. The single passenger in the cab was hanging halfway out of the window, a pistol in his hand; two more masked people stood in the bed, looking over the cab. One of them held an automatic rifle, but the other was pulling out what looked like a grenade launcher - which would have more of an effect than the pistols on certain delicate parts of KITT's underbody.
The most straightforward action would be to ram the pickup. He would sustain little or no damage from that action, and Michael would be protected by the laser restraint system. But ramming the pickup might injure the occupants, especially the unrestrained pair in the back, and KITT cast about for another course of action. Quickly, too - a charge from what was most definitely a grenade launcher exploded too close-by for comfort, and KITT felt a sharp pain as some of the shrapnel tore into his exhaust system. He noted the dust that his tires had kicked up from the side of the road, and was struck with a minor burst of inspiration. "Michael," he said, "I will need to take control for a moment."
A little brake modulation in front and a judicious kick of power to the rear, and KITT started to circle the pickup at speed, kicking up clouds of dust every time his tires dropped onto the shoulder of the road. The occupants of the pickup increased their firing rate, but had difficulty hitting a target that was circling as rapidly as KITT was; the bullets and grenades went wide. In a short time, the air was filled with clouds of dust. KITT's radar kept him spinning in a tight circle around the truck, but the driver hit the brakes as his visibility went to nil.
"Nice going, KITT!" Michael yelled. He yanked at the bandana around his neck, unknotting it and re-tying it around his nose and mouth. He hit the Roof Left button. KITT sighed internally, but knew there was no holding the man back; he braked rapidly, screeching to a halt so that Michael could exit - well, not safely, but with perhaps a little less of a ludicrous risk. He sent a puff of air out of his cabin to clear the air Michael was leaping into; the man ran to the driver's door of the pickup, hauled the driver out with both hands, and started to pummel him.
KITT noted that the two men who had been in the back of the pickup had jumped out, and were stumbling out of the dust cloud. They regained their bearings, leveled the rifles they were carrying, and started firing into the cloud. "That will not do," KITT muttered to himself. He turned and headed for the two men, taking pains to put himself in the path of the bullets. He was irate enough at the sting they caused to knock the men off of their feet with a little less gentleness than he was capable of, and they plowed into the ground with moans and grunts of pain.
The dust was settling rapidly. Michael walked away from the pickup, looking none the worse for wear except for a light coating of dust; both the driver and the passenger in the cab were lying next to the pickup, stunned. Michael pulled the kerchief off of his mouth, revealing a broad grin. "Good work, partner!" he bellowed, loudly enough for KITT to hear him from 1.3 miles away. "Hardly even exciting!"
KITT hissed out a sigh. For goodness' sake - one of the men had been armed, and it had been two against one on top of that. "I will never understand your cavalier attitude towards bodily harm, Michael."
Michael jumped into the door that KITT opened for him. "It's only because I know you've always have my back, partner!" he said, settling into the driver's seat. "Let's tell Devon to have these boys picked up!"
Fandom: Knight Rider.
Rating: PG-13.
Commentary/criticism: Welcome. roadstergal@gmail.com
Timing: Season III.
Notes: Part 1.
KITT never left a subject alone until he had researched it thoroughly. However, three hundred twenty books and fifty-seven erotic films later, he was still very confused. One thing was completely clear - for most humans, the reproductive act was engaged in purely for pleasure, with no actual reproduction desired. But there, the clarity ended. The rituals surrounding the reproductive act were staggering in their complexity. Complexity appealed to KITT on a mathematical level, but the heterogeneity of human sexual response took complexity a bit too far, in his opinion. Acts and words that enhanced the sexual act for some had no effect on or were actively unappealing for others. Some even enhanced their enjoyment of the act by pretending that it was being performed on them against their will.
The idea of sexual orientation was more than complex enough in and of itself, KITT pondered. Once he had accepted that the reproductive act was not engaged in for actual reproduction, the idea that it might be engaged in between members of the same sex made perfect sense, of course. However, 'sexual preference' was terribly important to humans. KITT was glad that he had done this research - he had not realized before what a substantial faux pas it was to misidentify someone's sexual orientation! The logic behind that offense eluded him, however. It was apparent that this 'sexual preference' was not one of the simple human preferences that he was familiar with, such as Michael's preferences for spicy food or blondes; it was nonbinding, and the man would happily eat bland food or appreciate a brunette. KITT had even formed a few preferences of that nature of his own, and he was quite proud of them. No, this 'sexual preference' went deeper, was more binding, and had strong societal pressures behind it. KITT was baffled. As many of the activities people engaged in involved stimulation of the sexual organ by organs on the other person that were not sexual, why was the distinction so important?
Perhaps, KITT mulled, there was a psychological interaction between the provider of the sexual service and the recipient. Something like friendship, but a friendship that was influenced by this strange, pervasive idea of sexual orientation.
It was all very interesting, KITT decided, and tried to put his ruminations to a practical purpose. From the reading he had done, coupled with his observations, it seemed that Michael was straight. Perhaps he found KITT appealing, but found his male voice off-putting. KITT wondered if Bonnie would be able to alter his voice projector to be female - maybe Michael would find that more pleasing? KITT decided that he would broach the topic after a period of further observation, with this research in mind.
The further observation would have to wait, however, as KITT was interrupted in his reverie by the subject of said reverie popping the door open and swinging inside. "Ready to go, partner?" Michael asked. The question was merely a pleasantry, and KITT did not even bother with a reply as he started his engines, brought his systems fully online, and relinquished control of his automotive functions to Michael. They screeched out of the garage, leaving two streaks of black on the concrete. KITT could almost hear the muttered expletives of the FLAG custodian as he meticulously cleaned off the rubber, knowing that it would just be there again the next time the pair left. It was silly, it was wasteful of tires, and it was not as neat and clean as KITT liked every other part of himself to be - but he had to admit to himself that he loved it. He loved everything about being a car; the burnouts, the fishtails, the power slides, the turbo-boost jumps, the feeling of his tires balancing just on the edge of traction as he screeched around a corner, g-forces tugging at his composite body. It was all thrilling.
KITT felt the nudge of a connection at one of his I/O ports, and it had the whiff of Bonnie. He opened the port, allowing data to flow in. Devon tapped impatiently at his A/V link, and KITT opened that connection for Michael. "Devon calling."
"Yo, Devon! What's up? What's today's mystery?"
"No mystery," Devon said, gravely. "This is an interception. Four terrorists of unknown affiliation have stolen a number of munitions from a local Army dump, and are headed roughly south on surface streets. The guns they have stolen are making things... rather difficult for the local constabulary. We need you two to go stop them."
"Righto!" Michael said, as cheerfully as if Devon had told them to go fetch ice cream. "Does KITT know where we're headed?"
"Bonnie has uploaded the information to my databanks," KITT interjected. "Whenever you're ready, Michael."
"Well, let's get moving!"
Devon gave his usual, "Be careful, Michael," before signing off.
KITT flashed a map up on his display. "They are headed south on Cabrillo Highway. I suggest we take this route," KITT lit his proposed route on the map, "and head them off at the pass, as the westerns would have it – and away from any population centers."
"Ride 'em cowboy!" Michael said. KITT took that as agreement, and gently turned the wheel in Michael's hands. They flew down the tarmac at speeds that would be suicidally reckless if traveled by a normal driver in a normal car. With KITT's tires, brakes, and radar system, it was a perfectly reasonable speed. KITT liked reasonable.
They pulled onto Cabrillo Highway and slowed down. "What do they look like?" Michael asked, peering around at the empty road.
KITT accessed the data that had been passed onto him. "They are in a black pickup truck with a standard cab. It is carrying four men, all in fatigues, with black stocking caps on. I only have an estimate of the weapons they might have taken, but they almost certainly have high-powered automatic rifles and at least one grenade launcher."
Michael whistled. "That's quite an arsenal. Black pickup truck, eh? Like that one?"
KITT had already noted the vehicle. "My scanners indicate that the vehicle contains four humans and a number of weapons. I cannot tell, at this distance, what the nature of the weaponry is."
A loud, staccato brrrap sound split the air. KITT felt stings all over his hood, windshield, and A-pillar. Bullets - and from their feel, conventional ones. Nothing that would penetrate, but they would burn and itch like holy Hades for a while. "That's a pretty good answer!" Michael yelled, grabbing the wheel and yanking. The stings disappeared as he swerved KITT swerved out of the way of the bullets, KITT's tires kicking up rooster tails of dust from the dry dirt shoulder. The noise of the guns paused; KITT estimated with 98% certainty that the people in the pickup were merely re-aiming.
KITT took a few nanoseconds to ponder what action to take. The single passenger in the cab was hanging halfway out of the window, a pistol in his hand; two more masked people stood in the bed, looking over the cab. One of them held an automatic rifle, but the other was pulling out what looked like a grenade launcher - which would have more of an effect than the pistols on certain delicate parts of KITT's underbody.
The most straightforward action would be to ram the pickup. He would sustain little or no damage from that action, and Michael would be protected by the laser restraint system. But ramming the pickup might injure the occupants, especially the unrestrained pair in the back, and KITT cast about for another course of action. Quickly, too - a charge from what was most definitely a grenade launcher exploded too close-by for comfort, and KITT felt a sharp pain as some of the shrapnel tore into his exhaust system. He noted the dust that his tires had kicked up from the side of the road, and was struck with a minor burst of inspiration. "Michael," he said, "I will need to take control for a moment."
A little brake modulation in front and a judicious kick of power to the rear, and KITT started to circle the pickup at speed, kicking up clouds of dust every time his tires dropped onto the shoulder of the road. The occupants of the pickup increased their firing rate, but had difficulty hitting a target that was circling as rapidly as KITT was; the bullets and grenades went wide. In a short time, the air was filled with clouds of dust. KITT's radar kept him spinning in a tight circle around the truck, but the driver hit the brakes as his visibility went to nil.
"Nice going, KITT!" Michael yelled. He yanked at the bandana around his neck, unknotting it and re-tying it around his nose and mouth. He hit the Roof Left button. KITT sighed internally, but knew there was no holding the man back; he braked rapidly, screeching to a halt so that Michael could exit - well, not safely, but with perhaps a little less of a ludicrous risk. He sent a puff of air out of his cabin to clear the air Michael was leaping into; the man ran to the driver's door of the pickup, hauled the driver out with both hands, and started to pummel him.
KITT noted that the two men who had been in the back of the pickup had jumped out, and were stumbling out of the dust cloud. They regained their bearings, leveled the rifles they were carrying, and started firing into the cloud. "That will not do," KITT muttered to himself. He turned and headed for the two men, taking pains to put himself in the path of the bullets. He was irate enough at the sting they caused to knock the men off of their feet with a little less gentleness than he was capable of, and they plowed into the ground with moans and grunts of pain.
The dust was settling rapidly. Michael walked away from the pickup, looking none the worse for wear except for a light coating of dust; both the driver and the passenger in the cab were lying next to the pickup, stunned. Michael pulled the kerchief off of his mouth, revealing a broad grin. "Good work, partner!" he bellowed, loudly enough for KITT to hear him from 1.3 miles away. "Hardly even exciting!"
KITT hissed out a sigh. For goodness' sake - one of the men had been armed, and it had been two against one on top of that. "I will never understand your cavalier attitude towards bodily harm, Michael."
Michael jumped into the door that KITT opened for him. "It's only because I know you've always have my back, partner!" he said, settling into the driver's seat. "Let's tell Devon to have these boys picked up!"
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 12:12 pm (UTC)I can't wait to read the next part :)
It's so rare to find well-written good action fic for michael/KITT, what a little gem this is :D
no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 05:12 pm (UTC)