“Are you going to be a good boy?” You asked in a low, deep purr.
I nodded immediately, because whatever this was, whatever game you were playing, I wanted it to continue.
When you finally turned the key all the way, it tore through me.
My engine roared to life, deep and aggressive, the vibration hitting all at once. My frame shuddered, growling madly in response to your touch.
Touch me, drive me. Fuck me.
“Drive,” I said, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.
You didn’t hesitate.
We pulled out fast, reversing clean before you turned us toward the forest road. Your attention flickered, splitbetween the path ahead and me in the passenger seat, where I lingered on your periphery.
“I need you to focus on the road,” I warned you. “I’ll be focusing on something else.”
I slid down between your legs and into the footwell. It was difficult to keep a solid shape with you flooring me, most of my energy draining into the rear wheels, but I had enough strength to pop the button on your jeans and pull down the zip.
You struggled to focus when I grabbed your cock, my lips wrapped around the dark, glossy head; I felt my tires slip as you took a turn a little too sharply. I trusted you, though. You drifted through the last bend of the forest track and onto the smooth asphalt like a professional, even with your cock hardening against my lips.
“Fox—”
Oh, I loved hearing you say my name.
It was my turn to tease, and I have more than half a tank left to enjoy you. Every part of you.
I traced the underside of your cock with my tongue, making sure to circle the metal ball of the piercing at the very base. I knew I was doing something right because you were going well over the speed limit. That didn’t bother me; I’ve always believed that if the 65 sign is too blurry to read at 100, then that’s a design flaw.
I touched you the same way you touched me. Gentle caresses of the wheel and then a sharp squeeze of the gear stick. I wrapped my fingers around the base of your cock, stroking slowly as I took the throbbing head into the back of my throat.
Bad boys don’t go for rides.
The words echoed in my mind as I slowly pulled away, tongue resting on the underside of your cock. I wanted you to be as bad as me, to see how easy it was to mess up in the heat of passion. How hard it was to grind to a stop when your engine was so hot it burned away all reason, blowingany rational thought away with the exhaust.
“Fox?” You frowned, wondering why I had stopped. I smiled up at you, enjoying the way your cock twitched against my tongue as you met my eyes.
We can’t both be good, and one cop car signaling for us to pull over just wasn’t bad enough.
I wrapped my lips around the tip of your cock, my tongue teasing the slit. Enough for me to taste you and enough for you to be desperate.
More sirens joined. You didn’t let go of the gas, and I rewarded you, my eyes closed as I forced you into the tight curve of my throat, my lips meeting the piercing at the base of your cock, my moans vibrating like my engine.
I heard you let a moan slip, even over the roar of my engine. I took it as encouragement to keep going; you tensed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of my mouth or the flashing red and blue lights behind us. All I knew was that you weren’t going to stop for them, and I was right. You didn’t slow down.
Your grip tightened on my wheel, hands steady despite everything, guiding me along the road as the chase closed in behind us. Your pulse spiked, and I felt it in the way you handled me, more aggressive now, more willing to push past limits. Neither of us wanted to think of the consequences of this pleasure cruise; we wanted to drive each other wild. There was no stopping until you were done; no one was going to take this moment from us.
You wove through the road with precision, threading lines with reckless confidence. I trusted you.
Completely.
Your skillful hands guided me while I was working your cock, but like every race, it had to come to an end.
You moaned as your cum filled my mouth, and I swallowed every drop, milking you for the last traces before reluctantly letting you go. I swear it was enough to give me a boost, a last push; a bit more and we could’ve outrun thecops.
But you knew something I didn’t, and your foot let go of the gas, gently shifting to the brakes.
I took control of the car, my consciousness spreading back into the engine and electrics, my lights now noticing the strip of spikes unrolling ahead of us.
