What else do you do when you run out of gas in the middle of nowhere?
He’s so busy concentrating on not looking at her that he misses the devilish glint in her eye as she maneuvers in her seat and climbs into the back. His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror and her tongue is caught between her teeth in the way he absolutely adores., 613
a/n: I know that the picture doesn't exactly go with the story, but it's what inspired the story, so that counts, right?
It’s two in the morning when they run out of gas on an abandoned stretch of highway somewhere in the United States, circa sometime in the ‘90s. All the windows are down because the air conditioner in the car broke miles ago and it’s humid as hell outside.
Rose shifts in her seat, her tank top clinging to her sweaty skin.
He is trying not to look.
He’s so busy concentrating on not looking at her that he misses the devilish glint in her eye as she maneuvers in her seat and climbs into the back. His eyes find hers in the rearview mirror and her tongue is caught between her teeth in the way he absolutely adores. She tilts her head, tongue still between her teeth, and crooks a finger at him saying come here.
He’s knows what comes next as he crawls into the back seat.
She shifts over and he sits in the middle and once he is situated she swings a leg over him and settles in his lap, flush against him. Her hair hangs over her face and she leans to kiss him. Her lips are damp and she tastes like sweat and the sodas they had hours earlier. He returns the kiss, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip. She responds, opening her mouth, inviting him in. He takes the invitation happily and their tongues tangle.
She pushes herself closer to him, grinding down as she down and he stifles a groan. His hand comes up to grip her breast, squeezing it softly through the damp cotton of her shirt. She breaks the kiss and arches her back, grinding down on him again and as gasp escapes her lips. He brings his other hand up to cup the other breast and he squeezes them at the same time. This elicits another groan, louder than before. His hands travel down and he lifts the shirt up and over her head, tossing it in the general direction of the front seat.
There is just enough moonlight that he can see her body before him.
She is perfect.
She puts her hands down at his sides and he leans forward to allow her to pull the t-shirt he was wearing off. She ran her hands down his chest then, to the top of his trousers. Her hands stilled for a moment, and then continued on, unbuckling his belt. He lifted his hips upward, her still on top of him, and she managed to yank his trousers down. He returned the favorite, deftly unbuttoning her jean shorts. It took a minute of maneuvering before the shorts were off her body and on the floor and then they were skin to skin.
She lowered herself onto him, gasping as she did. He lifted his hips, pushing deeper into her. His hands came up to her breasts again and he brushed her nipples with his thumbs. This caused her to shudder increase her pace.
He slipped one of his hands down her body and found her clit, brushing it with his thumb gently. Her hips jerked in response and she came. He thrust up once, twice, three times more and joined her.
She slumped against him her forehead resting on his shoulder. Her hair was damp from exertion and stuck to the back of her neck. He couldn’t help but admire her and he raised a hand and trailed it down her spine; she shuddered in response.
When they woke up they were entangled together and she was on top of him. She looked at him through still-sleepy eyes and smiled lazily.
“We should do that more often,” she said.