Title: Running Hot
Rating: R, mainly for lots and lots of bad language
Explanation: I just watched ďThe Fast and the FuriousĒ and fully admit that I donít care that the storyline wasnít particularly compelling or that it didnít prompt me to indulge in any higher brain functions. The cars were fast, the girls were pretty, and after it was over I wanted to write this. If you havenít seen the movie and donít want to know the ending, donít read this. It picks up where the movie left off and follows my version of how things went after the credits rolled. Its from Miaís POV, first person.
Disclaimer: I donít own any of the characters. The folks at Universal own them. I just took a few minutes to play around with them.
A/N: This is un-betaíd. All mistakes belong to me. Itís also really pretty short. Shouldnít take you more than a minute or two to read. If youíd like to send feedback, Iíd love to receive it. Iíll be at Xfjnky2@yahoo.com.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Domís gone, last seen heading out of town as fast as his stolen/borrowed neon orange Supra could take him. Not that I blame him, really, cause I sure as hell wouldnít want to do another stint up at the pen if I were him, but stillÖ
Whereís that leave me? Alone, well, almost alone, thatís where, because Iím sure as hell not going to go back to Mr. Brian Iím A Narc OíConner. As if, though I could see from the hopeful look in his bright blue white bread eyes that he thinks we can just move on from here. As if... I left him standing out front of the house in the cloud of smoke my tires left as I peeled out, my tail-lights the last thing of me heís ever going to see. Like Iím going to forget about the way he fucked me and used me and made me wreck my brotherís life. No way. Its called pride, and Iím afraid that I have it.
Johnny Tran is dead, least thatís what I heard. Wrecked his little testosterone boosting crotch rocket when Brian put a bullet in him and bled out on the asphalt while two dozen confused motorists looked on. Pretty boy Lanceíll have a limp, both from the fall and from his 20 to life upstate, but Iím not particularly bothered by that. Karma, or what the hell ever.
Leon split before the cops could catch his scent and Jesse died on the sidewalk. I left him there because I had to get gone quick. All Iíve got now are the clothes on my back and a jacked up fire engine red Civic. Oh, and a couple of million dollars. I donít know if Dom thought I didnít really know what was going on in my very own house or if he just thought I was stupid, but he was wrong. I knew all about the scheme, all about the stash and now its all mine.
Lettyís mine too. Not mine mine really because sheís running just like me, but for the moment sheís sitting in my passengerís seat, hair tangling in the wind as we cruise along at a comfortable 95 MPH, an open Corona resting between her slightly spread thighs.
At first I didnít know what to think about this new development. I mean, Iím not playing replacement parts for my brother, thatís for damn sure. Not that I havenít always wondered, havenít always looked. Who could blame me, reallyÖ tight little body, always shown to perfection in those second skin white tanks that she always wears, the low slung jeans giving just enough of a hint of a flat little belly and the gentle curve of hips to keep my attention. But, she was Domís girl and I was Domís sister and I wasnít about to poach on his preserves. Not that Iíd want to anyway. Thereís something really wrong with taking your brotherís sloppy seconds.
But, Domís gone now. Weíll meet up again Iím sure, though I donít know where and I donít know when and until then its just Letty and me headed down South to Cozumel for a little fun in the sun. Its not like sheís not more than willing. After all, I wasnít the one who made the first move.
She was a little banged up, understandable since sheíd rolled her car about three times and landed face-down in a big huge pile of sand. But, Lettyís a tough girl and a few little cuts and bruises werenít going to keep her down for long. I took care of her that first night, the two of us in some seedy motel room off the main strip, a bottle of tequila dulling the pain and a box full of band-aids decorating her normally clear skin.
When she crawled into bed beside me I didnít think anything of it. Hell, itíd been a rough day and I understood about needing comfort. I needed a little bit of it myself, especially when I thought about the wannabe punk ass white boy Iíd let in my pants. Blinded, no doubt, by that gleaming bright smile and that curly sandy blonde hair and the six-pack that loose tee-shirts didnít do a thing to hide and now all I could do was feel the shame of being played.
At first her touch on my arm, my back, seemed soothing. Iíd never been much of a cuddler, but if the girl that Iíd had a secret thing for for most of my adolescent years wanted to spoon up behind me, who was I to argue. But then I felt it, just that light press of her lips against the back of my neck, the cool air wafting over my skin as she moved my hair over to the side. Then those hands were sneaking up under the front of my shirt and I finally bought a clue. These werenít accidental, incidental, however you want to explain them touches. She had a clear goal in mind and it appeared that I was it.
I protested at firstÖ well, maybe not protested so much as I asked her what the hell she was doing. She didnít answer, just rolled me over and straddled my hips and brought her face down until those thick lips were touching mine, that hot tongue was searing the inside of my mouth, and I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be upset about this. It took me another minute to realize that Iíd slid my hands up her arms and that Iíd wrapped my fingers through her hair and pulled her in closer to me, but once I figured it out I decided to go with it. I mean, with the way things were going lately it seemed like now would be a fine time to add something like this to my tab.
When she raised up and pulled her tee off, baring the golden caramel of her skin, I decided that I was happy with my decision to just go with it. She was undeniably hot and Iím not ashamed to admit that fucking her was a completely selfish thing to do. I wanted her and I took her, repeatedly. I sincerely doubt that she minded one damn bit and when the neighbors banged on the wall and told us to either quiet things down or just move the fucking headboard back a few inches, I only smiled and laughed and kept right on doing what I was doing.
So yeah, anyway, thatís where we are now. Hot sun beating down on the roof of the car, radio blaring in the background, wind whipping in through the lowered windows and my girl, at least for the moment, sitting in the passenger seat, the condensation from a half-gone bottle of Corona seeping into the fabric of her nearly nonexistent shorts. Sheís got her sunglasses on and she looks gorgeous and in a little while, if I feel like it, I think Iíll find me a little part of this God-forsaken stretch of sand thatís a more deserted than usual and see what she tastes like when sheís sun warmed and happy.
ďYou tired of driving yet, baby?Ē
Sheís got a saucy little smile on her face, brown eyes twinkling mischievously at me from over the top of her cute little glasses and I feel the tingling in my belly rachet up to another level.
Fuck, this spot looks deserted enough for my tastesÖ
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