Warnings: Teasing, allusions to sex, language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Uruha (the GazettE)/Maggie (model, actress)
Word Count: 540
Notes: Prompt given to me by a word generator. XD RP-based. Written for kurosawabride, who is the Maggie to my Uruha. Hope you enjoy, hanii~. <333 I’m sorry if I butchered your Maggie, too. ^^;
“Why not this one?” Maggie asked, and Uruha turned to look at her questioningly.
Uruha furrowed his brow upon seeing which particular motorcycle she was pointing at – the very first one he’d purchased eight years ago, when he had been younger and reckless – and answered her question with a question of his own: “Why that one when the one I usually ride is right over here?”
Not that his first motorcycle looked bad, or anything. It was actually in excellent condition, considering the shit he’d put it through. It had admittedly gone through a lot of touch-ups, but it honestly looked relatively new, minus the dust that it had been gathering in the years that he hadn’t used it.
He had always told himself that he’d take it back out someday—clean it up and go for a ride on it, but he hadn’t counted on that day being today.
“You’ve never taken me anywhere on this one,” Maggie pointed out, smiling at him.
“Because it’s old,” Uruha replied. “It was my first.”
Her smile widened. “Then I definitely want to ride it. Come on, darling. It’ll be fun.” She gently ran perfectly-manicured nails along the frame of the motorcycle and Uruha shivered at the gesture—not because he thought she was leaving scratches (because he knew she wasn’t), but because he knew perfectly well what those perfectly-manicured nails felt like when they were raked along his skin. He’d last felt them a few hours ago, in fact, and she hadn’t been gentle when she had dug them into his skin and left long, red scratches behind.
But that had been okay, because he hadn’t been gentle when he’d shoved himself inside of her, either.
And now… well, it was fairly obvious that she wanted to play dirty.
That was okay with him, too. He liked it when she played dirty.
She crooked one finger, beckoning him closer without saying a word more, and Uruha was all smiles as he went to her, easily finding the correct key and placing it in the ignition.
“Turn around,” he breathed against Maggie’s lips, and when she did (without question—that was one of the things he loved so much about her: the fact that she trusted him, no matter what), he turned the key.
It started immediately, not sputtering but humming to life as though he’d been riding it for all those years that he hadn’t been riding it, and Uruha had to smile at that. It made things much easier, anyway.
They didn’t have any pressing matters to attend to; they didn’t have anywhere to be at the moment. They had time.
“We’ll take her for a spin, then,” he told her as he pressed the front part of her body roughly against the seat of the motorcycle so that she could feel the vibrations emanating from it, shuddering again when he heard her breath catch in her throat.
Without hesitation, he rocked against her from behind, pressing himself so tightly against her that it was almost painful, and when she ground her hips back against his, he silently thanked whatever deity existed that she was wearing a skirt.
Because he knew that she liked it when he played dirty, too.
Uhm. I... yeah. Nothing to say about this one. *snicker* Do I fail miserably, or what?