Fic: On the bonnet
Title: On the bonnet
Characters: Gene/Alex
Genre: PWP
W/C: almost 1000
Summary: Alex takes the Quattro for a spin, and Gene shows her the consequences
A/N: This is scratching-an-itch smut. I blame screencaps of Gene standing with his hands in his belt. What is a girl supposed to do when faced with that? This is total crack, btw - those looking for clever plots or deep introspection will have to wait a bit...
Alex ran her thumb round the steering wheel as she turned the ignition off. She had parked the Quattro via a spinning handbrake turn, and she sat basking in the adrenaline afterglow for a few seconds. Oh, it felt so good to be so in control of something.
“Drake!” came a familiar gruff shout. “You stole my keys!”
Alex opened the driver’s door with a flourish, slipping out of the seat and bumping the door closed with her backside. She strutted around to the front of the car, seeing Gene standing on the pavement, his hands on his hips, jacket pushed back.
“I didn’t steal them, I borrowed them. I fancied a drive,” she replied primly, stroking her hand down the bonnet, still warm.
“If you want a ride, Bols, you only have to ask,” he said, coming to stand in front of her, hooking his thumbs either side of his belt buckle.
“I meant in the car,” she said, putting her own hands to her hips. She watched him dip his eyes to the loosely tied cream bow at her neck.
“So did I,” he replied, holding his head at an arrogant angle.
“Did you now?” Alex said, trailing a fingernail down his neck suddenly.
She saw his pulse point jump, but he didn’t flinch, bending his head to fix her eyes more fully.
“If you wanted to get your hands on a gear stick, Bolly, I am only too happy to oblige,” he said, dangerously, stepping into her personal space so far that she felt his chest against hers.
Suddenly dizzy, and with the adrenaline surging through her again, she held his gaze, and licked her lips quite deliberately.
“You’re not talking about the car now, are you?” she asked, a half smile curling her lips up.
“I’m always talking about the car. This baby is an extension of me. You seem to think you can handle it whenever you feel like it. I’m telling you that comes with consequences,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to connect with her lower abdomen, setting off a fierce glow of desire.
“What kind of consequences?” she asked, cursing inwardly at the crack of nervousness in her voice.
“The kind that means you have to wax my bonnet,” he said, and Alex didn’t have time to do more than crease her forehead in confusion, before he had slipped his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her into a hard kiss.
It was the kind of kiss that initially left no room for breath, the glow of desire between her legs leaping instantly into a roaring need, especially when his other hand ran over her arse and squeezed, pushing determinedly on to him.
His own roaring need was evident in an erection that ably illustrated every adage about big feet and hands. She whimpered into his mouth at the feel of it, partly through lust, partly through need for oxygen.
She pulled away and gasped a breath as he shifted his weight, turning slightly so that the backs of her thighs were against the bonnet, and she felt him push her back as he took her mouth again.
Scrambling for some sense of control again, she slipped her hands from where they had been clinging to his shoulders, simply for balance, and ran them down his body to his waist. He broke the kiss, panting, as she slid down his zip and took hold of him firmly.
“Steady on, Bols, it’s already in high gear,” he said, tracing his hand down her thigh to hitch up her skirt.
She moved her hand quite deliberately in an insistent rhythm, her grip firm but not too tight, and for the first time saw a flicker of weakness on his face.
“Bloody back seat drivers,” he muttered, his hand slipping between her legs. He ran his fingers against her softness, and the sensation made her even wetter than she already was. Pressing gently with the heel of his hand, he curled two fingers inside her, putting light pressure on a spot inside her she thought she was the only one aware of. Instantly, she threw her head back in delirium, sinking into the feel of the warm metal she was lying on, the kisses he was running down her arched neck and the authority of what his hands were doing. She felt her release building, and forced herself to concentrate on moving her hand around him. She was too far gone to maintain a rhythm, and he pulled his hand from inside her, taking hold of her hands and pushing them up beside her head.
He used his thigh to nudge her legs more fully apart and, his eyes dark with lust, he moved into her with ease. She let her mouth fall open, relishing the exquisite feeling of being so full. He was still for a moment, and she sighed with pleasure. Then he began to work; strong, powerful strokes that made her whole body jolt, her breasts beneath the cream satin drawing his attention with each movement.
His breathing became erratic, and she felt herself slipping from any illusion of control, the heat building against him, radiating to her thighs, which she gripped against his hips, harder with each thrust. She was coming, biting her lower lip in and squeezing her eyes shut as the sensation rose and overtook her, seconds before she felt him follow her, his hands gripping hers.
Panting, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, his hair falling into his face. She licked her lips again, and slightly wiggled her hips.
“Will that be one coat of wax, or two?” she asked.
Gene let out a sharp laugh, resting on one elbow without letting go of her hands. He waited a few seconds, getting his breath back a little.
“What makes you think we’ve finished? There’s the boot to think about now…”
Characters: Gene/Alex
Genre: PWP
W/C: almost 1000
Summary: Alex takes the Quattro for a spin, and Gene shows her the consequences
A/N: This is scratching-an-itch smut. I blame screencaps of Gene standing with his hands in his belt. What is a girl supposed to do when faced with that? This is total crack, btw - those looking for clever plots or deep introspection will have to wait a bit...
Alex ran her thumb round the steering wheel as she turned the ignition off. She had parked the Quattro via a spinning handbrake turn, and she sat basking in the adrenaline afterglow for a few seconds. Oh, it felt so good to be so in control of something.
“Drake!” came a familiar gruff shout. “You stole my keys!”
Alex opened the driver’s door with a flourish, slipping out of the seat and bumping the door closed with her backside. She strutted around to the front of the car, seeing Gene standing on the pavement, his hands on his hips, jacket pushed back.
“I didn’t steal them, I borrowed them. I fancied a drive,” she replied primly, stroking her hand down the bonnet, still warm.
“If you want a ride, Bols, you only have to ask,” he said, coming to stand in front of her, hooking his thumbs either side of his belt buckle.
“I meant in the car,” she said, putting her own hands to her hips. She watched him dip his eyes to the loosely tied cream bow at her neck.
“So did I,” he replied, holding his head at an arrogant angle.
“Did you now?” Alex said, trailing a fingernail down his neck suddenly.
She saw his pulse point jump, but he didn’t flinch, bending his head to fix her eyes more fully.
“If you wanted to get your hands on a gear stick, Bolly, I am only too happy to oblige,” he said, dangerously, stepping into her personal space so far that she felt his chest against hers.
Suddenly dizzy, and with the adrenaline surging through her again, she held his gaze, and licked her lips quite deliberately.
“You’re not talking about the car now, are you?” she asked, a half smile curling her lips up.
“I’m always talking about the car. This baby is an extension of me. You seem to think you can handle it whenever you feel like it. I’m telling you that comes with consequences,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to connect with her lower abdomen, setting off a fierce glow of desire.
“What kind of consequences?” she asked, cursing inwardly at the crack of nervousness in her voice.
“The kind that means you have to wax my bonnet,” he said, and Alex didn’t have time to do more than crease her forehead in confusion, before he had slipped his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her into a hard kiss.
It was the kind of kiss that initially left no room for breath, the glow of desire between her legs leaping instantly into a roaring need, especially when his other hand ran over her arse and squeezed, pushing determinedly on to him.
His own roaring need was evident in an erection that ably illustrated every adage about big feet and hands. She whimpered into his mouth at the feel of it, partly through lust, partly through need for oxygen.
She pulled away and gasped a breath as he shifted his weight, turning slightly so that the backs of her thighs were against the bonnet, and she felt him push her back as he took her mouth again.
Scrambling for some sense of control again, she slipped her hands from where they had been clinging to his shoulders, simply for balance, and ran them down his body to his waist. He broke the kiss, panting, as she slid down his zip and took hold of him firmly.
“Steady on, Bols, it’s already in high gear,” he said, tracing his hand down her thigh to hitch up her skirt.
She moved her hand quite deliberately in an insistent rhythm, her grip firm but not too tight, and for the first time saw a flicker of weakness on his face.
“Bloody back seat drivers,” he muttered, his hand slipping between her legs. He ran his fingers against her softness, and the sensation made her even wetter than she already was. Pressing gently with the heel of his hand, he curled two fingers inside her, putting light pressure on a spot inside her she thought she was the only one aware of. Instantly, she threw her head back in delirium, sinking into the feel of the warm metal she was lying on, the kisses he was running down her arched neck and the authority of what his hands were doing. She felt her release building, and forced herself to concentrate on moving her hand around him. She was too far gone to maintain a rhythm, and he pulled his hand from inside her, taking hold of her hands and pushing them up beside her head.
He used his thigh to nudge her legs more fully apart and, his eyes dark with lust, he moved into her with ease. She let her mouth fall open, relishing the exquisite feeling of being so full. He was still for a moment, and she sighed with pleasure. Then he began to work; strong, powerful strokes that made her whole body jolt, her breasts beneath the cream satin drawing his attention with each movement.
His breathing became erratic, and she felt herself slipping from any illusion of control, the heat building against him, radiating to her thighs, which she gripped against his hips, harder with each thrust. She was coming, biting her lower lip in and squeezing her eyes shut as the sensation rose and overtook her, seconds before she felt him follow her, his hands gripping hers.
Panting, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, his hair falling into his face. She licked her lips again, and slightly wiggled her hips.
“Will that be one coat of wax, or two?” she asked.
Gene let out a sharp laugh, resting on one elbow without letting go of her hands. He waited a few seconds, getting his breath back a little.
“What makes you think we’ve finished? There’s the boot to think about now…”