drive inn daydream ༊*·˚
pairing: driver x afab!reader
summary: driver takes you to the drive inn, but not to watch a movie.
warnings: brief allusions to death, soft dom! driver, faux pity, very light exhibitionism, fingering (f! receiving). nothing too crazy for once folks!
word count: 1.4k
authors note: why is moonlight by ariana grande playing
“you should come see a movie with me.” he didn’t explicitly say it; he didn’t call it a date like you hankered for, but it went without saying when he opened the passenger side door and told you how pretty you looked or how he inched closer and puffed out his broad chest when the canteen started to bustle with strangers. he dropped his shoulder and closed the distance between your mouth and his ear with a tilted head after he asked what you wanted. you noticed he smelled faintly of cedar underneath all of that gasoline. he ordered for you. he paid. this was a date.
for a man that worshipped at the altar of vintage chevy’s and clothes dirtied by stale motor oil, the drive inn was a prudent choice. you ignored the spatter of blood on the primer grey rocker panel when you climbed back in with your snacks, got too comfy for a girl with fruitless expectations; fuzzy, thick blankets didn’t make for easy access.
sometimes it felt like driver forgot that he was in possession of his own free will. he practiced boundaries better than any of the forlorn men that had taken you out before— the ones that pawed at your chest like a newborn and shoved their tongues down your throat like they were searching for something. no, the most you’d felt of those big gloved-hands of his were through accidental brushes. he was considerate, perceptive even, and that made it an even more infeasible challenge to keep your underwear dry. you’d usually wear button-up jeans and a belt to keep things locked up like fort knox with men in the past, but tonight you wore a skimpy skirt… one that driver had shimmied up to your mid-section after you squeezed at his biceps and pulled at the collar of his henley until he was hovering over you. you were one of those forlorn men for the evening.
“lemme see.” he murmured, pinning your legs open with a firm hand. your right knee was jammed between the door and the glove compartment, while the left was hiked up and over the cubby box. you’d lasted forty-five excruciating minutes filled with movie dialogue and nothing else— practically a feat when driver settled a hand just below your thigh on minute twenty. you kissed him when he held out the paperboard cup as an offer, straw surely still wet with his saliva. he took you by surprise, slotting his mouth back against yours when you expected him to freeze.
“look at that button.” driver cooed, tone thick with pride. your arousal had bloomed, painting an embarrassingly large blotch of wetness at the centre of your lacy pair of panties. the fabric thinned out enough for him to ogle what you were so poorly hiding underneath. “all swollen and wet. why’s that?”
when you didn’t answer outside of the heave of your chest, driver grazed the pad of his calloused thumb over the pinochle of nerves— just enough to make your hips buck. he found just the right spot with those slender fingers, tracing at your seam in a way that was featherlight and excruciating. when he spoke, he was all faux pity, creased brows and downturned lips like he was concerned— like you were an animal in pain that he couldn’t help.
“who did this to you?” he asked like an accusation. your blunt nails were driven into his taut forearm now, a pathetic mewl of his name stumbling out of your mouth as an answer.
he smirked then, satisfaction sheathed deep in his chest with every sound you made. he was crossing into dangerous territory now that he’d seen you so vulnerable. he nudged his fingertip against your core, just enough to jostle the hem aside and sink two of his slender digits into you. driver’s jaw fell slack, lips parted silently in awe when he felt the hot slick already pooling at his knuckles. it eased the ache, but only for a moment.
“s’that all for me, sweetheart?”
your eyes were screwed shut now. you’d adjusted to settle your calf at driver’s shoulder, face scrunched up in pleasure.
“hm?” driver prompted, slow to start retracting his touch, knuckles dragging against your insides that were so painfully-delicious. you yelped like a dog.
it wasn’t until he murmured out an unimpressed ”what was that?” that you realized he wasn’t going to budge without an answer. so, you nodded your head, fast and disjointed. “yes! for you!”
the rhythmic wet thrust of his fingers drowned out the ostentatious explosions of whatever action film was being projected on the screen and bleeding through the radio. driver was fixated on memorizing every twitch of your toes and each shift in your expression; how you sucked in a breath every time he nearly pulled out all of the way just to stuff you full again, or the way your back arched when he tweaked your pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. he’d need it for next time— he’d use it to relieve himself of the desperation straining his jeans later.
he kissed you this time. it was claiming, slow and deep while he pumped his wrist with such precision. he was giving you just enough, but too little to get you where you wanted. driver liked the long game. he wanted to see how long it took to break you down and mould you into a pliant play-thing. his, all the same.
he wanted you to beg for it, and he was giving you all of the incentive when he pet your clit in soft strokes, practically clinical with how little pressure he used… with those same hands that had beaten the life out of men that you’d never have to worry your pretty little head about.
your hips were starting to ache. your throat was tight from how many whines and whimpers you’d swallowed. driver’s windows might’ve been tinted, but his car certainly wasn’t sound-proof. his vehicle was the most isolated in the lot— always with intent, but for different reasons tonight now that he had some precious cargo. albeit, occasional shadows still stalked by, in search of food or bathrooms.
your mouths broke apart, but not without a long string of spit that had gathered at the very tip of your tongue, tying the two of you together.
“what if someone caught us like this, hm?” your head had been so thick with desire that you’d barely considered, hadn’t even registered the bodies that crossed in front of them. the risk to reward ratio was well-worth it when he curled his fingers so perfectly, just ghosting his touch over the deepest parts of your insides. “all spread open for me, takin’ my fingers so well.”
his voice was dizzying; soft and tender in ways that betrayed the lewd, all-consuming stretch of his digits. you moaned, ankle clambering into the side of his neck.
“wouldn’t you be so embarrassed? you’d get in so much trouble, baby… such a bad girl.”
you were fucking yourself onto his hand now— hips shifting back in a clumsy haste then pulling him back in with your knee bent at his shoulder. it was depraved; dirty and unprincipled underneath him. he thought he’d have to put in hours of work to get you falling apart like this, but no… you were just… perfect. if he didn’t bear the self-control of a major general, he’d ruin you right then and there.
“you’re going to cum for me now, yeah?” his gaze was devouring you when you looked up at him through bleary eyes. it wasn’t a question, but it was proposed like one. it was a fact; your gummy walls were sputtering, sinking further back into the leather of the seat he’d reclined minutes ago.
“mhm,” was the best you could manage, high-pitched and drawn-out. you were squirming, but that didn’t slow the drive of his fingers.
his lips grazed the shell of your ear then, breath hot and humid when he spoke. “think i’ve earned it, honey. give it to me.”
driver knew it was coming anyway, but a few words to throw you over the edge didn’t hurt. he knew you’d agree when your climax coiled in your gut, starting with a strong pulse between your legs and then a tingling in your toes. you gasped, frantically fisting at the material at his chest. it was strong enough to wet your eyes, but you could still make out that shit-eating grin when you opened them.
he spends the rest of the night pushing your eager hands aside with the constant promise of ”next time” and told you to watch the movie like a dismissive father. he got too much enjoyment out of seeing you all blissed out to cut it short so soon.
