When they had to split up, Gerard was always the one who took the Trans Am. Of course, it was his car, his baby, so that made sense, and nobody questioned the way he refused to be parted from it. He was telling the truth when he said he couldn't stand to watch someone else drive it away.
The lie was when he said he hated it when he and the car were on their own.
Not that he loved it. He worried about Ray, Frank and Mikey every second that they were away from him, and most of the time when they were together. But he was lying when he said he didn't want to be away from them for a moment, and when he said he never wanted to be apart from them again. Because he loved those moments alone with his car.
Gerard dropped the three of them off about two miles from the old whisky purification center and took off straight for the point where they'd regroup in two days' time. As soon as they disappeared from view, though, something unwound inside him, the release of a tension he'd barely known was there. The four of them had been close for the last month, ever since the big scare after Hyper-Thrusts, and Gerard was grateful for it, really he was, but there had been an itch growing slowly under his skin. No matter how worried he was about the rest of his gang, right now he was just grateful for the chance to scratch it.
He switched the radio off, something he rarely did when the rest of the gang were around, so that no sound could reach him but the wind rushing past, the gravel under the tires and oh, the engine. When he hit a trail of more tightly packed ground and could finally shift up a gear, he sank back in his seat, and a soft groan escaped his throat when he revved the engine.
"I missed you, baby," he murmured, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He knew it sounded silly, because he'd been here the whole time, but it wasn't like they were really together when the others were around. They couldn't be.
He wished he could stop right now, pull over behind some bushes, and have her all over. He wanted to run his hands all over her, stroke the dust from her panels, lovingly feel the places where the paint was peeling and whisper that one day, one day it would all be over and he was going to clean her for days. He wanted to press his cheek against the radiator grille and whisper all the filthy things he wanted to do to her before he finally got her all clean, to press himself up against the hot, dusty metal, taste the sun-blistered paint of the bonnet on his tongue and feel it on his dick. He wanted to stretch out in the back, dig his fingers into the door handle, sink his teeth into the leatherwork as he moaned to her. But he had to be halfway to Battery City by nightfall, and it would be long, hot, torturous hours before he could take all the time with her than he longed for.
Still, there were advantages to being alone with her on the road, too. As much as he always longed to hear her purr in response to him, Gerard couldn't keep the engine running when he stopped, not with fuel as scarce as it was. Even when he was on the run, there was always joy in some time alone with his car. With a filthy grin that only his rear-view mirror would ever see, Gerard ran his tonge along the steering wheel, relishing the taste of metal and dust, slipped a hand into his pants and put his foot down.
(really carsex is more of a car kink/car as an aid to masturbation. People with penises also have the options of fucking the exhaust pipe, but... idk, I just didn't want to write it.)
Oh god this is a public post I'm going to regret it aren't I
The lie was when he said he hated it when he and the car were on their own.
Not that he loved it. He worried about Ray, Frank and Mikey every second that they were away from him, and most of the time when they were together. But he was lying when he said he didn't want to be away from them for a moment, and when he said he never wanted to be apart from them again. Because he loved those moments alone with his car.
Gerard dropped the three of them off about two miles from the old whisky purification center and took off straight for the point where they'd regroup in two days' time. As soon as they disappeared from view, though, something unwound inside him, the release of a tension he'd barely known was there. The four of them had been close for the last month, ever since the big scare after Hyper-Thrusts, and Gerard was grateful for it, really he was, but there had been an itch growing slowly under his skin. No matter how worried he was about the rest of his gang, right now he was just grateful for the chance to scratch it.
He switched the radio off, something he rarely did when the rest of the gang were around, so that no sound could reach him but the wind rushing past, the gravel under the tires and oh, the engine. When he hit a trail of more tightly packed ground and could finally shift up a gear, he sank back in his seat, and a soft groan escaped his throat when he revved the engine.
"I missed you, baby," he murmured, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He knew it sounded silly, because he'd been here the whole time, but it wasn't like they were really together when the others were around. They couldn't be.
He wished he could stop right now, pull over behind some bushes, and have her all over. He wanted to run his hands all over her, stroke the dust from her panels, lovingly feel the places where the paint was peeling and whisper that one day, one day it would all be over and he was going to clean her for days. He wanted to press his cheek against the radiator grille and whisper all the filthy things he wanted to do to her before he finally got her all clean, to press himself up against the hot, dusty metal, taste the sun-blistered paint of the bonnet on his tongue and feel it on his dick. He wanted to stretch out in the back, dig his fingers into the door handle, sink his teeth into the leatherwork as he moaned to her. But he had to be halfway to Battery City by nightfall, and it would be long, hot, torturous hours before he could take all the time with her than he longed for.
Still, there were advantages to being alone with her on the road, too. As much as he always longed to hear her purr in response to him, Gerard couldn't keep the engine running when he stopped, not with fuel as scarce as it was. Even when he was on the run, there was always joy in some time alone with his car. With a filthy grin that only his rear-view mirror would ever see, Gerard ran his tonge along the steering wheel, relishing the taste of metal and dust, slipped a hand into his pants and put his foot down.
(really carsex is more of a car kink/car as an aid to masturbation. People with penises also have the options of fucking the exhaust pipe, but... idk, I just didn't want to write it.)