burger sauce
“mmh—” dream moaned out in delight, his lips slightly smeared with whatever condiments he had doused his burger with. which, unsurprisingly, made him look like a child with no mind for table manners. his hands were not exempt from the monstrosity that is his egregious amounts of sauce.
you can't even remember what he put on it. ketchup was a given, he was an opportunist, and ketchup was always there. barbeque, ranch, maybe mayo?
ugh! whatever combination it was, does not change the fact that it is still disgusting nonetheless.
and he's meant to drive after? you'd pay no mind if he was in the passenger's—a lie, you'd turn your nose up just as quick—but he'll be touching the wheel and getting it all over the leather seats!
with newfound annoyance, you leaned back against the luxurious red seat, an eyebrow raised in unperturbed judgement. fry pointed towards his general direction in an accusatory and definitely judgemental manner.
“are you allergic to dipping your burger into the sauce moderately? not whatever debauchery this is.” you sighed at the ridiculous situation. one hand holding a half-eaten fry raised up to your mouth to presume its unfinished quest. his eyes flicker to yours, quickly finishing up his saucy debauchery before grabbing a tissue he kept in his dashboard, wiping away at his mouth as to prove a point.
“it's an unspoken rule to not comment on a man's private time with his food. don't you know that, princess?”
god, if he wasn't so fucking hot, you'd slap the shit out of him. it didn't help that he had a shit eating grin and laid back on the car's seat. head leaned towards you like he's inspecting you. or expecting? was he expecting something?
“well, it's gross to see anyone eating messily. you had sauce all over your mouth!” you complained, huffing whilst glaring at the paper bag that sat on the console between the two of you. one more look into his eyes and all self control's going out of your body.
“messy? sweetheart, you barely complain when it's your pussy on m-”
almost instantaneously, you gripped his collar, pulling him closer to you, hands fisting in embarrassment masked as irritation. he needs to have his mouth sealed sometimes.
“shut up, bastard.”
“yeah? sit on my face then, baby. that's a surefire way to make me quiet.”
appalled would be an understatement. not quite precise enough to describe what you're feeling. he took the short timeframe of you furrowing your brows and short circuiting to grip your thigh—fortunately with clean hands—rough enough that it made you flinch slightly.
“dream! ugh, why are you acting like a feral–!”
If he were to be held to one physical attribute, it'd be his speed. because holy shit, he can be fast. especially to get what he wants. his free hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head slightly as he took your bottom lip into his.
your hands faltered slightly, releasing his collar before wrapping behind his neck, parting your lips ever so slightly more to let his tongue find its way into your mouth. his other hand greedily gripped your thigh, rubbing circles on the inner part, inching slow enough to make you lose your mind.
“dream–” you panted, pulling off of him to take a breath. watching the singular string of saliva connect your lips before splitting off. vision dazed as he placed his big, calloused hand to cover the side of your neck. his stupid, knowing smirk was all the confirmation you needed to turn the car's ceiling lights off.