#desolation row

you really didn’t think he’d be out yet.

that’s the part that keeps circling in your head as you lie back against your pillows, magazine folded open on your lap, the same page reread three times without absorbing a word. your manicured nails catch the warm glow of the bedside lamp as you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, the motion automatic, restless.

three days isn’t that long. not in this city. not with gerard’s record.

mikey had called you the morning after- voice low, rushed, trying too hard to sound calm- explaining how the show had gone sideways.

how the crowd had surged, people panicked, bottles thrown, fists flying. how the SWAT team had rolled in like they were breaking up a revolution instead of a concert. mikey was out within hours, ray and frank followed.

gerard stayed.

“it’s routine,” mikey had said, but you could hear the lie in it. gerard always got the worst of it. too loud. too defiant. too much history on paper for anyone in uniform to give him the benefit of the doubt.

you flip the page, then immediately close the magazine with a soft sigh, dropping it onto the nightstand. another sleepless night, you think. another round of staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s hurt, if he’s picking fights out of boredom, if he’s pretending not to be scared.

you miss him in a way that feels physical. like an absence pressing into your ribs.

that’s when you hear it.

a soft tap.

you freeze.

another tap- closer this time. deliberate.

your heart jumps into your throat as you sit up slowly, eyes flicking to the closed curtain covering your window. there’s a shape behind it. a shadow crouched low, just barely visible through the thin fabric.

your stomach drops.

no. no way.

this city has taught you better than to trust silhouettes in the dark. you’ve heard too many sirens, seen too many bodies outlined in chalk. your mind races through possibilities- someone casing the place, someone stupid, someone dangerous.

the tap comes again, lighter now. almost… familiar.

you stand, every movement careful, pulse loud in your ears as you cross the room. your fingers hover near the curtain, hesitating as a dozen worst case scenarios crash through your head.

and still-

your heart knows before your brain does.

you swallow, steadying yourself, and hook your fingers into the edge of the fabric- then you pull the curtain aside.

you gasp when you see him.

gerard is crouched there in the pale wash of moonlight like he belongs to the night itself, shadows cutting sharp lines across his face, that familiar lopsided smirk already waiting for you. he tilts his head, eyes dark and bright all at once.

hey, baby, he mouths softly.

your brain short circuits.

you don’t think, you just slide the window open and he’s already moving, already halfway in, landing silently on your floor like gravity has always been optional for him.

“gee,” you breathe, the name leaving you like a prayer.

you jump onto him without hesitation. he laughs under his breath as he catches you easily, hands firm on your thighs as your legs lock around his waist, arms winding tight around his neck. your mouths crash together- messy, desperate- and he groans low when you kiss him open mouthed, deepening it like he’s been waiting three days to do exactly this.

“damn,” he mutters against your lips, smirking when you chase him. “missed my sorry ass that much?”

you don’t even answer. you just make a soft, frustrated sound and kiss him again, harder this time, and he laughs into it, indulgent, cocky, completely undone anyway.

he moves you without effort, guiding you down until you feel the mattress on your back, the familiar softness a dizzying contrast to the way he crowds your space. he braces himself over you, caging you in- not crushing, just there- and the closeness makes your head spin. his warmth, his scent, the way his mouth finds your jaw, your neck, slow and deliberate.

“you’re always like this with me,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “fallin’ apart so easily.”

you arch up instinctively, fingers threading into his hair, breath uneven. “gee,” you whisper, a plea, but a warning. “just-”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with something wicked and fond all at once. his thumb brushes your cheek, grounding, and he grins.

“careful,” he says softly. “your parents are home, baby.”

the words hit you like iced water.

you freeze.

“oh my god,” you whisper. “shit. my dad will actually kill me.”

gerard chuckles quietly, clearly amused by your sudden panic, but his hands stay warm and steady where they are, forehead resting briefly against yours. “told you,” he murmurs. “still worth sneakin’ in, though.”

and the way he looks at you says he’d do it again without hesitation.

but he catches it immediately- the way your body goes stiff, the flash of panic behind your eyes- and just like that, the edge softens.

gerard leans down and kisses you slow and gentle, nothing rushed, nothing demanding. it’s devastating in its softness compared to the way he’s hovering over you, all leather and heat and quiet danger. his gloved knuckles brush your cheek, grounding, lingering, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw like he’s memorizing you.

“hey,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours. “it’s alright.”

he eases you onto your side, movements unhurried, coaxing rather than taking, pulling you into him until your leg drapes over his hip naturally. you cling to the front of his jacket without thinking, fingers curling into the leather as your bare thigh presses against his belt. it should feel intimidating. but instead, it feels safe. familiar. him.

his arm wraps around your waist, solid and warm, and he smirks just enough to bring the edge back.

“so,” he murmurs casually, like he isn’t fully wrecking your nervous system. “other than your crazy ass dad- how you been, sugar?”

you scoff softly, rolling your eyes even as you relax into him. he laughs into your temple, kisses it, the sound low and fond.

“been worried sick about you,” you admit quietly, fingers drifting up into his fluffy hair. “trying to get to class without a mutant rat chasing me. you know. normal stuff.”

he chuckles, pulling you into a kiss that starts sweet and turns hungry fast, like he can’t help himself. you tug him closer, breath hitching when he chases your mouth, all teeth and warmth and quiet desperation.

“i missed you,” he pants against your lips, voice rougher now. “been losin’ my fuckin’ mind these past three days.”

your resolve crumbles instantly. you clutch at him, voice breathless. “gee… i need you. right now.”

that’s when he smiles.

not soft. not sweet.

calculated.

he pulls back just enough for you to see it, that look that says he’s already ten steps ahead. then he gets up.

you make a small, betrayed sound at the loss of him, reaching for him as he leans down to steal one more kiss.

“be right back, sugar.”

you crawl toward the edge of the bed, watching him grab your old shoes like this is normal. he comes back and drops to his knees in front of you, casual as sin, guiding your legs over the side of the bed.

he slips the shoes onto your feet slowly, deliberately, kissing each knee as he goes, open mouthed and teasing. you shiver, breath going uneven.

“gee,” you whisper. “where are we going? my dad- he’s gonna-”

“shh,” he murmurs, standing and pulling you up effortlessly. his hands settle on your waist like they belong there. he leans down and kisses you again, confident, unbothered.

“he’s gonna do nothin’,” he says with a crooked grin. “i got a place. somewhere we can actually catch up.”

the way he says catch up makes your stomach flip.

you smile, shy and helpless, and let him guide you back towards the window- one hand steady on your waist, the other already reaching to help you down like this is just another night the two of you were always meant to steal together.

the walk would’ve terrified you if you were alone.

this neighborhood never sleeps- it just watches. but gerard’s back, and somehow, that makes the dark feel less hungry.

his arm slides around your waist like it’s second nature, leather warm against your side as he steers you down the sidewalk like he owns the night. you keep glancing over your shoulder anyway, nerves buzzing under your skin.

he notices instantly.

“hey,” he murmurs, low and easy. “you’re good, baby. he ain’t gonna come barrelin’ outta the house like some pissed off movie villain, alright?”

you huff a weak laugh, leaning into his shoulder. “you say that like you didn’t just get out of jail.”

he grins like that’s a compliment. “yeah, and look how charming i still am.”

you shake your head, but you can’t stop smiling. “seriously, though… if my neighbors see your truck, they will call him. they live for drama.”

he presses a quick kiss to your temple, smug and reassuring. “relax. i don’t park sloppy.”

he guides you down a narrow side path you’ve never taken- dim, tucked away, half forgotten. your heart picks up, but it’s more thrill than fear now.

then you turn the corner.

and there it is- his truck, hidden perfectly in a shadowed alcove, out of sight from the street.

he tilts his head at you, smirk sharpening. “you were sayin’?”

you gasp, then laugh, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.”

“calculated,” he corrects, stepping ahead to open the passenger door with exaggerated flair. he gives you a half bow. “after you, m’lady.”

you grab his collar and tug him upright, laughing as you pull him into a kiss- warm, desperate, a little reckless. he hums against your mouth, hands finding your hips like they belong there, thumbs brushing the waistband of your shorts just enough to make your breath hitch.

“so needy,” he murmurs with a crooked grin when you part. “you gonna behave for me, or keep makin’ it hard?”

you flush. “gerard-”

he laughs softly, easing you backward into the seat instead, hands careful despite the teasing. “easy, sugar. we’re not doin’ anything stupid where someone can see.”

he buckles you in with deliberate slowness, knuckles grazing your thigh, then presses a softer kiss to your cheek.

“gotta keep you safe first,” he says quietly. “then we can talk about bad decisions.”

your heart flips. “i trust you.”

something warmer flashes across his face- softer than his usual swagger- but he hides it with a grin as he shuts the door and rounds to the driver’s side.

the engine rumbles to life.

he glances at you, eyes dark with promise. “i know a spot,” he says, voice low. “quiet. no neighbors. no cops. just us.”

you swallow, smiling despite the nerves. “yeah?”

he smirks as he pulls away from the curb. “yeah, baby. trust me.”

the drive feels unreal.

the city blurs past the windshield in streaks of sodium orange streetlight, bass from some distant party thumping through the night air. gerard drives one handed, relaxed like he owns every road in this city, the other hand resting warm and possessive on your thigh like it belongs there.

his truck smells like leather, smoke, motor oil, and him- that familiar, reckless comfort.

you keep glancing out the window, heart fluttering between nerves and excitement.

“relax,” he murmurs, smirking without looking at you. “you’re jumpier than a stray cat.”

you scoff softly, but lean closer anyway. “i’m allowed to be nervous. you literally just broke out of jail, gerard.”

he huffs a laugh. “i was released,” he corrects. “big difference, baby.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re impossible.”

“yeah?” he says, finally glancing over, eyes dark and amused. “and you love it.”

he’s not wrong.

the truck slows, then turns off the main road onto a quieter stretch- industrial, abandoned, lit only by flickering lamps and the glow of distant buildings. somewhere far off, a siren wails and dies.

he pulls into a secluded overlook- the city stretched out below like a field of stars.

the engine cuts, and the quiet is sudden. just your breathing. his. the ticking of cooling metal.

for a second, neither of you move.

then gerard turns toward you fully, resting an elbow on the steering wheel, studying you like he’s trying to memorize every expression.

“see?” he murmurs. “told you i had a place in mind.”

you smile despite yourself. “you’re bad.”

he leans closer. “and yet, you still got in the truck.”

your heart stutters.

“barely,” you tease weakly.

his smirk softens- still cocky, but warmer now, realer.

“you okay?” he asks, quieter. “you’ve been tense since we left.”

you swallow. “i’m fine. just… can’t believe you’re actually okay.”

“yeah,” he agrees, eyes dragging over you with slow, unapologetic intensity. “me neither.”

the air thickens.

he reaches out, slower this time, knuckle brushing under your chin, tilting your face up just slightly.

“hey,” he murmurs. “you’re safe with me. always.”

the confidence in his voice is effortless. dangerous. comforting.

you exhale, smiling softly. “you say that like you’re not the trouble.”

he grins. “baby, i am the trouble.” a beat, then, softer. “but i’m yours.”

your pulse kicks.

then you let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible over the low hum of outside. his gaze was pinning you to your seat, a look so intense it felt like a physical touch.

“jesus, gee,” you whisper, your voice coming out breathy and thin.

three days. it had only been three days since he’d been gone, but it felt like a lifetime. every nerve ending was alight with a desperate, humming need for him.

you love him.

god, you love him, and the force of it was terrifying.

he saw it all. he saw the need, the desperation, and you saw it mirrored right back in his hazel eyes. a slow, wicked grin spread across his face, that sideways, arrogant arch of his lips that never fails to make your heart do a painful little flip.

“c’mere, sugar,” he rasps.

you don’t think. you couldn’t. you just move. as you scramble towards him, he smoothly shoves his seat back with a practiced flick of his wrist, creating the space you needed.

you crawl over the console, his hands- large and hot, still encased in those damn leather gloves- guiding you with an effortless strength.

you settle into his lap, the rough denim of his jeans a stark, thrilling contrast against the soft skin of your bare legs.

your hands found his shoulders, gripping the worn leather of his jacket. his palms roam, squeezing your hips, tracing the curve of your thighs, claiming every inch he could touch.

you look down at him as he tilts his head back, a glint of pure mischief dancing in his pretty eyes as he looks up at you. a fresh wave of need pools between your legs, and you whimper, pressing your clothed, swollen clit down against the hard ridge of his cock.

the little bit of friction was delicious, but not nearly enough.

“gee- need you-”

he hums, a low, approving sound in his chest as his fingers tighten on your hips. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath.

“yeah?” he drawls, his voice a low, gravelly tease. “what d’you need from me, baby?”

you nearly cry out when he dips his head, nosing at your jaw before pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along its line. he travels down to your neck, and you arch instinctively, a silent offering.

his hands guid you, showing you how to grind against him, setting a slow, maddening rhythm. you whimper, trying to form the words, your fingers digging into the stiff leather of his jacket. his fluffy black hair tickling your cheek.

“your cock-” you gasp. “need it s’bad-”

he rewards you by sucking a bruise onto the side of your neck, a dizzying, possessive pull that makes you cling to him harder. he hums in approval, pulling off with a wet pop before his hands are back on you, helping you shimmy your shorts and soaked panties down.

you kick them off into the footwell, and he let out a rough curse. “jesus- look at you, sugar,” he rasps, his eyes dark. “so fuckin’ eager.”

you try to grind your bare pussy down against him, seeking more of that friction, but his strong hands still you. he keeps one hand firm on your hip while the other moves at a speed that makes you dizzy.

there was the metallic clank of his belt buckle, the sharp pop of his button, and the distinct rasp of his zipper being pulled down.

he smirks at you as you stare, your breath caught in your throat. he reaches in and pulls his thick, hot cock out, just enough. his balls resting heavily on the denim of his jeans, and in the dim light filtering through the fogged windows, the angry red tip glistens, already beading with arousal.

you nearly drool at the sight of him holding himself, the leather of his glove a stark, sinful contrast against the flushed skin of his cock. he starts to stroke it slowly, his other hand squeezing your thigh possessively. his voice a low, gravelly pull brought you back from the brink.

“wanna ride me, honey? show me how much y’missed me?”

you bit back a moan, nodding so furiously it was a wonder your head didn’t fly off. his smirk was pure wicked. “yes, of course, gee- lemme- lemme ride you.”

he hums, a sound of deep satisfaction, and guides you down. you both gasp as your sticky, puffy folds find the thick, hot tip of his cock. you were in a daze, dragging yourself over him, coating him in your wetness.

your poor clit wept with sensitivity at every pass, the slick, obscene sounds echoing in his truck.

“jesus- so fuckin’ soaked and i haven’t even done shit yet,” he murmurs, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. “take what y’need, baby. use me.”

your hips stutter at his words- your forehead falling to his, your hands clinging to his chest, nails dragging against the worn leather.

your movements become more frantic, desperate. “feels- y’feel so good, gee- mm-”

“yeah?” he taunts, his voice a low chuckle. “just grindin’ on my cock and your pretty little head is already spinnin’.”

you whine, done with the teasing. you lined him up with your greedy, clenching hole, and then you drop down on him. your jaw went slack as he sucked in a sharp breath, your head falling to his shoulder.

he laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your whole body.

“shh, i got you,” he coos, his hands gripping your thighs. he guides you as his cock fills you perfectly, stretching you in that way that only he could. every drag of your hips, he guides you back and forth, his tip kissing that sensitive spot inside you over and over.

you cry out, trying to bounce, and he meets you thrust for thrust, helping you, fucking up into you as you fucked yourself down on him.

“look at you,” he groans, his voice rough with exertion. “so desperate for it you can’t even think straight. just a messy little thing, aren’t ya?”

his gloved hand comes down hard on your ass, and you cry out, the sting blooming into a sharp, delicious heat that made you clench around him- tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

“gee-” you gasp.

“yeah, you like that,” he states, not asked. he does it again, harder this time, and a tear escapes, tracing a path down your flushed cheek. “such a dirty girl, gettin’ off on this in the front seat of my truck like a fuckin’ slut. but you’re my slut, aren’t you, sugar?”

you could only sob and nod, your movements becoming erratic, chasing a release you could feel building fast. he was fucking you harder now, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he slams you down onto his cock.

“ride it, then. take what y’wanted,” he commands. “show me how bad you missed this cock.”

you do. you bounce on him, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the steamy space. you were crying in earnest now, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the sting of his hand on your ass, the filthy words pouring from his mouth.

“gee, i- i’m gonna-” you hiccup.

“yeah, you are,” he moans, his smirk wicked. “look at me when you come, baby. wanna see you fall apart.”

you force your eyes open, meeting his dark gaze. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.

that was all it took.

your orgasm crashed into you, violent and overwhelming. you screamed his name, your body convulsing as you gushed around him, making a mess of his lap just like he wanted.

“fuck, that’s it,” he praises, his voice strained. “make a fuckin’ mess for me. atta girl…”

his hips stutter, and with a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled into you, thick, hot ropes of his release pulsing deep inside.

you feel it all, the heat of him filling you up, and it just prolongs your orgasm, making you shudder and cry against his chest.

for a moment, you both just stay like that, panting heavily. but the desperation doesn’t fade. it just changes shape.

you were still hungry, still aching.

you start to grind down on him again, slow and deep, his softening cock still inside you. he moans, his head falling back against the seat.

“jesus, baby,” he breathes, his hands stroking your sweat slick back. “still not enough for you? greedy fuckin’ thing.”

you just whine, burying your face in his neck, breathing in his scent of leather and sweat and something that was purely him.

you could stay like this forever, tangled up with him in the dark, steamy truck, desperate for more even when you already had it all.

you don’t want to move.

you just wanted to stay there, breathing him in, feeling the weight of him inside you. but the need was still thrumming under your skin, a deep, persistent ache.

you start to rock your hips, a slow, deep grind that was less about chasing pleasure and more about feeling him. his cock, still soft and nestled inside you, began to harden again, and a smug little hum vibrates in his chest.

you lift your head, capturing his lips in a messy, desperate kiss. it was all teeth and tongue, a frantic clash as you kept grinding against him, your clit pulsing with every roll of your hips. your hole was twitchy, clenching around him as he grew to his full, impressive length inside you again.

he kisses you back for a moment, his hands stroking your back, before he pulls away with a sharp tug on your hair.

“so fuckin’ spoiled, aren’t ya?” he taunts, his voice a low, mean purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “already beggin’ for more- can’t get enough of this cock, huh?”

you just whimper, trying to kiss him again, but he holds you back with a firm grip on your jaw. “uh-uh. get in the back.”

it wasn’t a request.

you obey instantly, wincing as you slowly pull off of him, the sudden emptiness an ache. as you climb over the console, his gloved hand came down hard on your ass. you gasp at the sharp sting, and he just laughs, a low, dark sound.

he follows you easily, crawling into the back with a predatory grace that made your heart pound. you stay on all fours on the worn bench seat, wiggling your ass eagerly, a silent invitation.

he knelt behind you, and you felt the cool air on your wet, exposed skin.

then you cry out as you feel it.

he slaps your ass again, two sharp stinging blows on each cheek. “look at this fuckin’ presentation,” he sneers, his voice dripping with condescending praise. “just beggin’ for it, huh, sugar?”

he presses a firm hand on your lower back, arching you deeper, pulling your ass into the exact position he wanted. he was just teasing you now, dragging his hard cock through your slick folds, bumping your clit but never giving you the satisfaction of entry.

you were sobbing in frustration, pushing back against him, trying to get him to slip inside.

“please, gee- please-”

“please, what?” he taunts, pulling away completely. “use your words. tell me what this fuckin’ pussy needs.”

you choke out the words somehow. “needs- it needs your cock- fuck-”

he finally gives in, and with one sharp, hard thrust, he was buried balls deep.

you scream, your arms giving out as you fell face first into the seat. he fills you so perfectly, stretching you in a way that was almost painful but so, so good.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust.

his hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back as he starts to fuck you with ruthless, deep strokes. his other hand was a firm, punishing grip on your hip, holding you in place as he slammed into you.

you were sobbing, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the pain, the sheer intensity of him.

“fuck, look at you,” he rasps, his voice rough in your ear. “takin’ it so well. such a good fuckin’ slut f’me.”

he slaps your ass again. “answer me when i talk t’you.”

“yes-” you cry out. “i’m- i’m your slut-”

he laughs, a cruel, beautiful sound. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear.

“ahh ahh,” he mocks, imitating the desperate sounds you were making. “listen t’you. sounds so fuckin’ pathetic. and you’re clenchin’ around me like you love it. y’love when i’m mean, don’t ya?”

you can’t help it- your walls clench around him at his words, and he laughs again.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.” he tugs on your hair, pulling you up until your back was flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you there.

he fucks into you, hitting that spot deep inside with every brutal thrust. the new angle was devastating.

“so fuckin’ gorgeous when you’re cryin’ on my cock,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly soft, a stark contrast to his brutal actions.

he kisses your shoulder, a surprisingly tender gesture. it was that dizzying duality that would be your undoing- the mean, cocky bastard who was so desperately in love with you.

he kept you like that, fucking you hard and deep, one hand in your hair, the other digging into your hip. the pressure was building again, higher and higher this time.

the windows were completely fogged over, the world outside disappearing. it was just you and him, in the steamy, dark space of his truck.

your eyes were squeezed shut, tears and sweat mingling on your cheeks, but you saw it anyway.

through a tiny clear patch on the window near your head, a flash of light in the distance.

headlights.

a car.

coming down the deserted road.

your blood ran cold.

“gee-” you gasp, your voice tight with panic. “gee, there’s a car.”

but he was lost in it, in you.

his grip on you tightened, and instead of stopping, he fucks you harder, his hips a punishing rhythm. he growls against your ear, his voice a low, possessive snarl.

“who gives a fuck? they ain’t gonna bother us. c’mon, sugar, gimme another one.”

and just like that, you couldn’t help it.

the fear, the pleasure, the sheer nonchalance in his voice- it all pressed into a single, blinding point.

you let go.

the most severe orgasm of your life tore through you, a violent, convulsive thing that ripped a scream from your throat.

you felt him spill into you again, hot and thick, and you nearly collapsed forward, but his arm around your waist held you easily. he fucks you through it, his praises rough and ragged in your ear.

as you come back down, your heart hammering against your ribs, your blood ran cold.

the headlights were closer now.

and through the steamy windshield, you could see a figure.

a man.

storming towards the truck, his face a mask of fury.

your dad.

you screamed, a raw, terrified sound. “dad!”

gerard’s hips finally stilled.

he follows your gaze, and for the first time all night, the cocky smirk vanishes. but it wasn’t fear you saw on his face.

it was pure, unadulterated annoyance.

he groans, not like a man who’d been caught, but like someone whose favorite song had just been interrupted.

“y’gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he grumbles, pulling out of you in one swift motion that made you cry out. “did he implant a fuckin’ tracker on you or somethin’?”

he was already moving, pulling up his jeans with a practiced flick of his hips. “go. front seat. now.”

just as you scramble over the console, a fist pounded on the back seat’s window, making you jump.

your dad was screaming, his words muffled but furious towards your boyfriend.

but gerard was quicker.

he plants a heavy boot above the door frame, effectively holding it shut against your father’s frantic pulling.

“baby- lock the fuckin’ doors, start the engine for me!” he yells, his voice calm and commanding.

you were shaking so badly you could barely coordinate your hands, but you did it. the locks click into place, and the engine roars to life just as your dad moved to the driver’s side, screaming at you through the glass.

you fumbled for your shorts, tugging them on with frantic, clumsy movements. your panties were lost, kicked somewhere into the darkness of the floorboards.

you toss yourself into the passenger seat as gerard laughs, a fond, unhinged sound as he hops back into the driver’s seat with an easy agility.

he then looks at your dad, who was now standing in the middle of the dirt road, and gives him a wicked, maniacal grin just as he slams his foot on the gas.

the truck peels out, spraying a cloud of dust and gravel that left your father sputtering in the rearview mirror.

you were breathless, your heart flying somewhere in your throat.

“i’m so dead,” you whine, staring at the back window. “he’s gonna- he’s gonna kill me.”

gerard just snorts, coolly navigating the dark country road. “he ain’t gonna do shit. if he tries, i’m for sure goin’ to prison for killin’ that bastard.”

you turn to look at him, your eyes wide. “gee- you can’t say that!”

“why not?” he shot back, glancing at you with a smirk. “he’s the one who came swingin’ at my truck. pretty sure i got every right to defend what’s mine.”

the possessive way he said what’s mine sent a jolt through you that was stronger than the fear.

“he’s my dad, gee! he was just… worried.”

“he looked like he was gonna have a fuckin’ aneurysm,” gerard laughs. “besides, what’s he gonna do? ground you? you’re a grown ass woman. you can ride dick in a truck whenever you damn well please.”

you couldn’t help but let out a hysterical little giggle, the adrenaline and terror finally catching up to you. “oh my god. i can’t believe this just happened.”

“oh believe it,” he says, his voice softening slightly. he reaches over, taking your hand in his. the leather of his glove was still warm.

he brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently. “hey. look at me. you’re not dead. i’m not goin’ to prison. we’re fine.”

you look at him, at his profile in the dim glow of the dashboard. he was so calm, so sure of himself. the panic in your chest started to recede, replaced by the dizzying, terrifying thrill of it all.

“you’re insane,” you murmur.

“only about you,” he replies, his smirk returning. he kept your hand in his, his thumb stroking your skin. “wait- did y’find your panties? saw y’just pull up your shorts, baby,”

just as he says it, a gust of wind whipped through the truck as he cracked the driver’s window to clear the condensation.

your eyes dart to the floor-

then you see them, your panties, which had been kicked under the passenger seat, must have gotten snagged on the side of the seat adjuster.

but right before you could even respond- the truck bounced over a rut in the road, the panties getting dislodged and sucked right out of the narrow opening of the window, a tiny scrap of pink fabric fluttering into the darkness like a shameful little flag.

you both saw it.

there was a beat of silence.

until gerard burst out laughing, a loud, genuine, booming laugh that made his whole body shake. he slams his hand on the steering wheel.

“oh, that’s fuckin’ priceless- he’s definitely gonna find those now.”

your horror was so absolute it looped back around to being funny. a strangled giggle escapes your lips, then another, until you were full on laughing with him, tears of hysteria streaming down your face.

“i’m actually gonna have to move.” you wheeze.

“nah,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “we’ll just tell him they’re his. give the old man somethin’ to think about.”

he squeezes your thigh, his laughter subsiding into a warm, fond smile. “see? not dead. jus’ a tad scandalous. i like you scandalous.”