Where did that come from?

[margotgrissom]

I just wrote a little ficlet inspired by a *cough* conversation about Jeremy Clarkson's many amenities with suggsygirl and griza over at clarksonlove.

I am terribly, terribly sorry for this, but the idea wouldn't go away. Think very carefully before actually reading this.

Title: Get him
Pairing: Jeremy Clarkson / three female OCs
Rating: PG for content but R for the insanity of the author
Warnings: Where to start? Serious OCC-ness, AU (sort of), stalking and molesting (and making fun of it), demented fan-girls, the lot. Know what? You better not read this at all.
Summary: Jeremy gets some clarksonlove
Disclaimer: I do not own Jeremy Clarkson. And I'm quite gutted about that fact.
A/N: I'm so, so sorry. I really am. Also, unbeta-d so it's probably brimming with stupid mistakes.

 

~

Jeremy stepped out of the portakabin and walked towards the almost empty car park at the Top Gear test track. The others – his co-presenters and crew alike – had left a while ago but he had stayed to work on the script for next week’s filming.

He walked alongside a hedge, and jerked to a halt when there was a movement in the green leaves as well as a rustling, too loud to be caused by the light breeze.

“Who’s that?” he bellowed into the darkness, trying hard to keep a nervous quiver out of his voice.

He waited for a moment but there was nothing but silence. Since no armed maniac jumped at him, he started to think it might have been an animal. Just to be sure, he took a tentative step closer to be able to peer over the hedge.

He was not prepared for what he found there: Three women in camouflage suits were huddled up on the grass, staring at him in shock.

“What the…”

That was as far as he got, because one of the women yelled, “Get him!” and then they all leaped over the hedge, knocking him to the ground.

“Christ! Are you completely insane?” Jeremy struggled as one of the attackers pinned his hands down over his head but he couldn't get free. “What are you? Environmentalists? Homosexualists? Oh no... vegetarians?!?”

The one with a death grip on his wrists chuckled. “Well, I am a vegetarian and I have a girlfriend, but that's not the reason for this.”

His eyes grew even wider when he recognised the faint accent in the female's voice. “Fuck! Bloody Germans! What the hell do you want from me?”

She ignored him and hissed at her companions instead. “Get on with it. We haven't got much time.”

Jeremy watched - in a mixture of terror and morbid fascination – one of the women ripping off his shirt. He mentally prepared himself for having a slogan like 'Fish are friends, not food' or maybe a Mercedes logo carved into his chest with a sharp knife.

He squeaked in surprise when one female started to run her hands through his chest hair and the other buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, irritated by the suddenly husky quality of his voice. He whimpered quietly when impudent fingers started playing with one of his nipples, and he actually gasped when the female nuzzling his neck suddenly flicked her tongue over his sensitive skin. “Bloody - hell.”

The woman pinning his wrists down leaned forward in one swift move, pressing her lips on his. When she backed up after what seemed like an eternity, she let out a almost theatrical sigh. “All good things must come to an end.” She cleared her throat. “Alright girls, enough tormenting the good Dr Clarkson for one evening.”

One of the other women ran her hands through his chest hair again. “I just knew it would feel so good to do this.”

He noticed that this woman had a hint of an accent as well, not a German one though. “Who the fuck are you people? The International Grope Clarkson Association?”

Two of the attackers snorted with laughter; the third one was still busy nuzzling his neck.

“That's actually not a bad name. Oh, we could have club jackets an all that,” said the female fondling his chest.

The German woman seemed to consider that for a moment. “Yeah – why not – anyway. We'll talk about that on the way home. Now, Daisy get Sarah and lets go.”

The other attacker pulled the third women away from Jeremy and to her feet with some difficulty.

“But he tastes so incredibly good,” the redhead murmured, licking her lips and panting slightly. He noted with some detached amusement that she at least was British.

His hands were suddenly released, and he struggled to his feet, looking completely puzzled at the three hastily departing figures.

“Oh shit!” the German female exclaimed a moment later. She got something out of her rucksack and hurried back to him.

Jeremy took a step back, eyeing the – as he now noticed – tiny woman carefully.

“Sorry about the shirt.” She handed him a brand new one, still wrapped in plastic, smiling apologetically “You should wear more pink, by the way, it suits you.”

“Or light blues,” one of the others yelled.

“And leave the top three buttons open,” the third female added.

His confused gaze wandered from one to the other and he nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, one more thing,” the small woman in front of him said. Jeremy let out a rather unmanly squeak when she reached around to squeeze his bottom. “You really do have a damn fine arse.” Then she turned on her heel, and hurried back to her friends.

As he watched them leaving, he could swear he heard the German saying, “If we threaten to do that again, you reckon we could get him to kiss James May in front of the cameras?”

FIN

 

Please have mercy and shoot me now!