Hood Of My Car
Driver x gn!reader - 1.8k words
☾. ݁ Summary: Whatever's going on with Driver, you know can bring him back to you. It just takes a night on the hood of his car to clear his mind.
☾. ݁ Notes: Heavily based on this and this, written for the fabulous @cosmicyeehaw as a thank you for agreeing to draw my beloved Lars in her delicious watermelon series!
☾. ݁ Content: nsfw, blow job (Driver receiving), mentions of reader receiving oral sex, Driver is dark and mysterious, little bit of angst, blood, mentioned kissing kink and premature ejaculation (it's me what do you expect), slightly creepy location, in public (at night in a deserted area)
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The cool night air whips through the crack where the window’s rolled down, shivers creeping across your shoulders as you roll it back up. The weather doesn’t change much in Los Angeles, but there’s a definite chill in the air tonight. It creates a sort of longing… the last of summer clinging in your memories as the urge to snuggle into him, warm and safe, takes over.
You’re usually in the passenger seat for this journey, and your eyes aren’t ever on the road when you’re sitting beside him, but a sliver of moonlight shines on an entrance you think you recognise, almost like it’s a sign from him. So, feeling semi-confident, your fingers tighten on the steering wheel and you pull the car into the dry LA River.
The drive doesn’t feel as long when you’re beside him and you wonder if you’ve somehow made a mistake, but before long, your headlights illuminate the familiar dark mass of leaves covering a hidden stream in the near distance.
Biting anxiously at your lip, your stomach begins to sink as you slow the car. He’s not here. There’s a sound somewhere close by. Probably an animal. You shudder, glancing around what you can see of the pitch dark shrubbery, but you don’t fancy sticking around to find out. It feels different here when you’re with him. Safe, thrilling. Alone, it’s kind of creepy.
As you swing the car around to leave, your headlights catch something glinting under the shadows of overhanging branches. There he is.
Driver’s cloaked in complete darkness, parked up in a hidden spot where the dry river bed ends and the patch of shrubs and trees begins, almost undetectable at night. But you’d recognise that silhouette anywhere; his slender denim clad legs, the gentle puff of his scorpion jacket hugging his slight torso, his short, soft hair, and that nose. God, that perfect, sexy, handsome nose.
He’s sitting against the hood of his car fiddling with the fastenings on his gloves and chewing a toothpick as you shine your beam onto him. He doesn’t flinch at the sudden illumination, just turns his head in your direction and glares back as you kill the lights, then the engine, and step out.
He watches in silence as you approach, slipping off his gloves and flattening his hands down on the hood by his sides.
As you move closer you see a splatter of something dark around the bottom of his jacket, stark and obvious against the cream satin. You wonder if it’s his blood or someone else’s, but you won’t ask.
‘I hoped I’d find you here,’ you say quietly, perching beside him. ‘I’ve missed you.’
He doesn’t answer, eyes intense on yours as he pulls the toothpick from between his teeth.
‘Are you okay?’ you ask, pressing a cool palm to his warm cheek.
He leans into it and closes his eyes, taking a beat before nodding. You know it’s a lie, but he will do anything to make you feel safe with him.
‘What do you need?’
His eyes open at that, cheek still flush against your hand. His sparkling blue eyes look darker tonight somehow as they glance across at you from under their heavy lids.
He closes them again and pushes forward to place the most careful, gentle kiss to your lips. It’s brief, soft and lingers after he pulls away. For such a tender kiss, it takes your breath away.
He always manages to take your breath away.
His eyes are back on you then, pleading, and you know all he needs is to bask in the comfort of your presence, your touch.
‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ you breathe, voice cracking. You already know the answer.
As his eyes slip closed in shame, you dive forward to lift his face back to you and continue the kiss, a little more heated this time.
Your tongue glides over his bottom lip and he moans as he parts them to let you in.
His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the hood, arms clamped to his sides as you crawl onto his lap and push him back, slowly laying him down between gentle scrapes of teeth and delicate laps of tongues.
You actually feel him relax beneath you; the engine’s still warm and his tired muscles ache a little less for the heat of it.
His arms wrap around you, hands exploring as the kiss deepens.
You feel his arousal, pressing hard into your thigh as you straddle him, the already damp denim telling you he’s more than ready.
Pulling back for breath you look down at him, his beautiful face flushed with heat, neat hair coming loose in a few places, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide. He’s panting, silently begging for you. Even in the shadows, he’s beautiful.
‘Stay right where you are,’ you whisper, feeling the chill hit you as you climb down, the cool concrete biting at your knees as you kneel at his feet.
His jacket has ridden up with the shirt beneath it, exposing a delicious expanse of soft skin. Your lips are drawn to it like a magnet, and as they meet his sensitive flesh, he jolts upward a little, a strangled little groan echoing around the empty space.
‘Shhh,’ you soothe him, placing gentle hands on his thighs, ‘I’ve got you. It’s alright.’
Driver whimpers.
Bringing your hands down to his knees, his legs fall apart easily and you fit yourself between them, leaving a wet trail of kisses over his belly.
His hips buck slightly and you pull back to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, your hands steady as he trembles with anticipation beneath them. He isn’t wearing underwear and his cock immediately springs free of the tight confines.
You’ve been in his position plenty; he’d drive you here in the desolate night, make out until you were both breathless, lay you on the hood of his car and dip between your thighs. You’d stare up at the stars and come undone on his tongue with your fingers in his hair and your legs thrown over his shoulders.
Tonight though, you know Driver needs you to take the lead and you’re more than willing to do it, to help him find his way back to you.
He hums, low and deep, as your fingers wrap around his aching length and pump slowly, pearls of steadily leaking precum making the movement slick. You swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip, and his legs shake at your sides, quiet whines filling the air around you, almost inaudible.
You know it’s likely he won’t last much longer. You know how he works; he can get off just by getting you off. Hell, one time in the early days he got off just from kissing you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s eager and he’s grateful; he’ll take whatever you’re prepared to give him.
But you need tonight to be earth shattering. Whatever he’s feeling, whatever is going on in his mind and in the part of his life he keeps you safe from, you want to silence it all, even if only for a few blissful moments.
With your lips pressed to his heat you suckle lightly, the saltiness of his skin pleasantly sharp on your tongue, and his fingers dart to tangle in your hair.
A strangled little noise catches in his throat then as you flatten your tongue, licking him steadily from base to tip before taking him into your mouth.
It’s overwhelming, the chill of the fall night air against his exposed stomach, the heat of the metal beneath him, and the warm, wet, familiar home of your mouth taking him soft and slow.
He shudders against the hood, biting into his fist as the fingers tangled in your hair tighten, not exactly controlling your movements but immersing himself in them, feeling them.
The hypnotising bobbing of your head begins to blur his vision as he tries to focus, tries to memorise the sensations, each and every one, and he tries to calm his breathing. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he loses control, and tries to make this last just a little longer.
You know he’s up there wishing your lips could be on his mouth while he feels this good everywhere else, probably replaying your last kiss in his mind while his hot, needy cock throbs against your tongue.
Driver’s hips stutter up to meet your movements then, and his back arches as he writhes against the car, his head falling back with a dull thud.
You’re doing it. You’re quietening the overwhelming noise in his mind, turning it to faint static with every lap of your tongue, every hollow of your cheeks.
Bobbing your head faster, Driver sobs out a series of little whines. It’s hungry and pathetic and it makes your core clench with need for him, and for a moment you consider riding him but it’s too late for that.
You can’t help but moan, the subtle vibration around his cock sending him crashing over the edge.
He thrashes above you, low clanking sounds of the hood bouncing off the concrete around you, cut only with a guttural cry that tears from his chest.
His spend fills your mouth, hot and thick, and you just keep going until he’s softening between your lips, seeing him through the aftershocks of his release as he lays breathless and weak on the hood.
His hand drops from where it had gripped your hair, and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you sit back on your heels to admire your work.
He looks so vulnerable like this, so small, panting and trembling, exposed across the front of his own car, out here in the middle of nowhere, his soft cock out and twitching from the strength of his orgasm.
You could watch him like this forever, it’s deviously delicious. But you take mercy on him, tucking him back into his damp jeans and carefully fastening him back up before crawling onto the warm hood to lay beside him.
As you settle, he turns his head to look at you, eyes burning into yours while a trace of a smile pulls at one corner of his lips.
He’s sated, he’s warm, and most importantly, here, right now, with you, he’s safe.
‘I can wash your jacket,’ you whisper. ‘And your jeans.’
He blinks his gaze away, biting his lips together as he blushes at the mess he made of himself.
‘How long do we have?’ you ask, voice quiet and a little sad.
His hand slips into yours. No matter how many times he does that, it always feels as sensual and intimate as stripping yourself bare and having his hands all over your body, somehow.
‘At least tonight,’ he says, voice cracking into a higher pitch halfway.
You stare up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly through the leaves of the overhanging branches.
‘I’ll come with you,’ you say. It’s not a question. ‘I need you. And I think you need me, too.’
His hand squeezes yours tight.
