#motor bike gloves

[imranazhar651]

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover is a unique and exceptionally well-made product by Neo Jeans. It is made from quality materials and will keep your bike protected from all types of weather. The cover is easy to use and comes with a storage bag. It is also machine washable and comes in a large variety of colors.

What are the benefits of the Motor Bike Cover?

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover has many benefits. For one, it will protect your bike from the elements, such as rain and snow. It also has a built-in storage compartment that can be accessed from the back of the cover. This allows you to carry things like a helmet and other personal items with you when you are on the road. The cover is also water resistant and has a built-in heating pad that will make your bike more comfortable.

What are the features of the Motor Bike Cover?

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover is made of a soft, lightweight, water-resistant fabric that is easy to clean. The Motor Bike Cover also has a high-quality zipper and elastic, ensuring that you can use the cover for a long time without any hassle. The Motor Bike Cover is easy to put on and take off and has a large size to cover even large motor bikes. The Motor Bike Cover will also give you full protection for your motorbike from rain, dust, dirt, and other external factors that may damage your motor bike.

What colors are available?

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover is the black cover. It is available in sizes from XXS to XXL. The best-selling Motor Bike cover is the black cover. It is available in sizes from XXS to XXL.

Conclusion

The Best Selling Motor Bike Cover is the affordable and durable cover from Eagle One. It is made of high quality and comes in a variety of colors. It is also waterproof and will protect your bike from the elements. The Motor Bike Cover is made of durable and flexible material that will not scratch your bike. This is one of the most affordable Motor Bike Covers available at Neo Jeans Platform in Australia.

[rubberbeautys]

@morimura_333

[leathercollectionus]

Redbull Racing Gloves for Motorcycle

Redbull Racing Gloves for Motorcycle. A superb design with promising features related to protection from accidental abrasions and cuts on track, in the street or on the road.

Redbull Racing Gloves for Motorcycle

[howtoplanatrip]

Electric Bike Accessories in Dubai You can’t simply just hoped on your electric bike and go for a ride, you will need gadgets that go along with the bike such as helmets, gloves, shoes, and shirts. EMX Motors LLC covers you in this regard as well and provides you with a variety of electric bike accessories in Dubai at a very reasonable price. Go ahead and order your bike gadgets now!!

[sprout-fics]

Oh my god, sprout pleeeeaaseeeeeeee give us biker simon smut 😭😭

Ask nicely and ye shall receive

Your breath fans across your face, head tossed back and throat bared as you grip the handlebars of the motorcycle, feeling the low thrum of the engine under you. Leather, musk, motor oil and the scent of him clouds your senses, hands gripping tight just as he presses himself flush behind you, blanketing the massive form of his body across your spine. You can feel every low rumble from his chest, surrounding you in sync with the engine, masked nose pressing up against the junction of your jaw and neck as he breathes a low growl of praise there.

“Good.”

A bitten off little moan bubbles up your throat, brow pinched just as he nimbly rolls your clit between his leather gloved fingers. Your wetness clings to the pads, the graze of his touch firm, unyielding, shaping you always just how he wants you. Demanding, controlling, forcing you to yield with a gasp of his name and his dark eyes boring intent into your skin. 

He has you against the seat of the motorcycle, where you’d teased him, asking if you could drive. You’d arched the curve of your spine, eyes twinkling as you’d gazed over your shoulder and had asked so prettily.

“Please?”

You thought he was indulging you when he’d gotten on behind you, turned on the ignition and felt the purr of the bike underneath you. Yet just as you’d gone to release the kickstand Simon had snaked his gloved hands around to your front, up under your shirt, down past your waistband. Bracing his head against the back of yours, he’d breathed you in, let the air settle low and dark in his chest and spoke in that purring, possessive voice of his that promised a dizzying desire.

“Be good.”

You turn your head back to him, seeking, a whimper of his name as you part your lips. He greets you, allows you to kiss him through his mask, keeping his eyes open all the while to witness the growing glossiness of your eyes that speaks of want, a need for him that burrows down into your bones and paints them obsidian. 

He growls, rutting forward so you feel the bulge of him straining in his jeans, slotting himself against your ass just as his fingers press down harder. Electricity dances up your spine, escapes as a groan that spills against his lips. Ghost’s other hand cups you under your bra, switching between nipples that perk against his fingers, the blood rushing down to the exact press of his fingers against your clit. 

“Please.” You ask again, trying to buck up against him, seeking more friction as the taunt of your release dances beyond your reach. Yet you know he’ll send you over the edge only when he’s good and ready, will mold you to his liking, drink you down like an addiction he can’t escape. Ghost always has you exactly how he wants you, forces you to bend and rewards you with your shivering climax and a desperate gasp of his name as your orgasm drags you under with its power. He’s drunk off the sight of you gasping, writhing, teary eyed under his touch. Tamed, he silently thinks, able to touch a wild animal and have it eat out of his bare palm even as you nip at his fingertips. He’s a force you can’t escape, succumb to willingly as you drown together, inescapable like the tidal locked orbit of the earth and moon. 

“Look at you, sweet thing.” He purrs in your ear, and you can feel his smirk through the fabric of his mask. “Gonna cum just from my fingers?”

You nod, biting your lip, eyes closed as you rock against his hand, down onto the low vibration of the bike seat, back into the inescapable hold of him as he grinds against your ass.

“Clever girl, this is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Ghost asks, and when you don’t respond he pinches a nipple harshly so you gasp in agreement. “Maybe next time I’ll have you ride me on this, watch those pretty tits of your bounce on my bike.”

The thought alone makes you shiver, motion rippling up your spine as he huffs a pleased little sound against your bare throat. “Like that? Hmm, dirty girl.”

“Ghost-” You manage with a whine, face warm as you chase the tease of your orgasm. Yet Ghost is steady, methodical, circling your clit with a needed touch before pulling away, over and over again until you shake in his hold, whine and beg and desperately chase him only for him to press in behind you, rubbing his erection against your ass with a low, huffing groan. 

“Or maybe I should fuck you.” He goes on, seemingly unbothered by your pleas. “Just like this, you bent forward as I stretch you around my cock.”

You groan openly at that, nodding enthusiastically, voice an endless series of groans, gasps, mewling as he takes his hand away from your tits and raises his gloved fingers to your parted lips. You take them in wordlessly, tongue lapping against the leather as tears bead in your eyes, desperate, needing the release he dangles in front of you. 

“Would you like that, sweet girl?” He huffs, grinding forward, his warm breath fanning through the mask. “Have you clenching on me just like this?”

“Mm-” You nod around his fingers, and Ghost groans deep in his chest as the bike purrs under you both. He presses deftly against your clit, and you feel the throes of your orgasm reach closer just as he growls into the flesh of your neck.

“Wanna feel you cum, pet. Just like this.” He huffs, voice grinding deep into your skull like soot. “All over my fucking fingers. Go on, fucking cum for me.”

You try to speak around his fingers, gasping a word that sounds like “Simon” and instead opting to bite down on his leather fingers just as he rubs abruptly, harshly against your clit, summoning your release so quickly you hurdle over the edge, entire body seizing with the taut snap of your release. Your breath catches in your chest, heart hammering and brow scrunched as you buck forward. Ghost works you through it, growling praise into your shoulder just as he grinds against you. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl, fucking mine, my good girl. That’s it, fucking cum for me-”

You whine as his touch begins to drive you into overstimulation, head falling forwards just as he pulls his fingers away so you gasp, spit connecting your lips to his glove. You gasp, shoulders trembling as he leisurely grinds against your ass, letting you catch your breath.

“I got you, love. Breathe for me, you’re alright.” He murmurs into your spine, softer now, indulgent in a way that betrays his utter affection. 

You look at him over your shoulder, catching the blown pupils against his rust colored irises, breathing hard, eyes twinkling, pressing back against him. You grip the throttle under your fingertips, press it just to hear the engine purr under you both. 

“Going to let me ride you too, Simon?”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Mal D3 motor bike redesign number...5? damn ive redesigned her main look alot

canon

stuff i kept-the color pallet but i heavily symplified it and took away alot of the stuff that made the design so busy, while also adding just enough to make the design intersting becuase while Mal's canon gear is super busy and has so much going on, its also suuuper bland, like stupid bland, thats one of the problems with the canon designs because while theres SO MUCH going on, the motorcross gear is also SUPER bland, like theres alot of...nothing with shapes and colors and thats it. i also let mal keep her lil flame boots but made them less heel and more of a basic platform boot that isnt so stupid high. i also kept her canon shirt she wears under the vest cuz thats not something that i ever had complaints with, its just a shirt.

my big thing for this design was-tight t-shirt and big ol pants with bit belt. im really happy with the silouette alone and really like the scales/flames/embers on mal's pants :3 i also wanted to make her a PROPER ass motorbike jacket instead of a vest and sleeves, motor bike jackets are meant to freaking protect the rider, her arms being visible defeats the fucking purpose of the damned jacket!

but-yeah, i wanted this mal to be fucking READY, no big clunky shoes/heels, no tight pants with a stupid zipper on the buttm and proper gloves, i had the idea of Mal having a braid-which i still really like so just imagine Mal wearing her hair in a braid for the d3 adventure. but yeah, Mal's worn dresses her last two big battles and whenever i redesign any of hte outfits-i have a possible rewrite in mind where Maleficent is the big bad whose mind controlling Audrey and Mal knows this so she wants to be READY and wants comfy pants instead of a skirt or super tight pants that squeak when she walks.

yeah but i was at work and just thought 'D3 MOTORBIKE MAL-TIGHT SHIRT BIG PANTS' and decided i had to draw it out, ur welcome.

[xuchiya]

"R1 rider" || yeosang x female reader

genre: fluff, (small tinge) angst words: 1052 i love motorbikes, i want to own one too :<

Your sister bid you farewell as she gets in the car assisted by Park Seonghwa, her personal bodyguard since the beginning of her reign. Being the first woman to own all the inheritance from your late grandfather.

   You wave her goodbye as the figure of the car slowly mini in your eyesight before you exhale heavily, your hand falling to your side with a small sound of skin slapping. The massive weight on your shoulders was getting heavier and heavier each time you step inside the seraglio and the unending duty as the next noblewoman of the company, this time what your grandmother willed,pressed down on you like an iron mantle, suffocating and relentless.

“Lady, we have to return home for your evening class.” Your aide— NingNing spoke softly beside you before gesturing you towards the car. You nodded before settling inside the backseat. NingNing and your driver sitting in the front seat, she turned to you with a soft look, “You can make an excuse to not attend dear, i know how tiring all of these are.” 

You shake your head, giving her a small smile, “No it’s okay Ning, it’s just an hour and half class. I can still attend it.” She nodded her head, understanding your wishes before telling the driver to return back home. 

As the car moves silently on the dark night of May, you notice a drizzle of rain hitting the window, creating a glinting of lights on the lamppost. A smile grew on your lips, your finger hovering on the regulator of the window and lowering the car window— the sudden wind noise inside the car raises alert on your two companions but NingNing assures the driver quietly that it is alright.

NingNing is a few years older than you, just around the same age as your sister yet it feels you have another sister, so she knows you like the back of her hand. 

Like a kid again, you wave your hand up and down similar to how a mermaid swims. Then after a while, you open your palm to catch the rain— watching the splash on your fingers and the touch of the roughness of your hand. It was times like these you would recall being carefree from the world full of politics, rules and regulation, responsibilities that you only cared about your unfinished addition and your multiplication table homework. You would waste one wish to relive that moment of being a kid, watching F1 (both vehicles) and then take an obsession of collecting the models of the racers.

   Just as you were enjoying your time with thoughts of your childhood, you were greeted with the intense yet familiar tune of the exhaust pipe of R1 Yamaha. Your ears perk up to the sound of the engine; your head snaps towards 4 zooming motors that went past your car.

Your heart was beating on how beautiful the motors were, you wanted to own one but you were forbinded as it is not un-lady-like for you to own one— hence riding one. Even with the harsh words, it did not falter how you still love to collect them.

Few more motors passed by until a bike neared your car, you were so caught up with the sounds until a gloved hand took your hand. You were taken back, feared roared inside you as you took upon his presence, he wore a dark leather long coat with red painting some parts of his coat, his visor was up and you managed to catch a glimpse of his long lashes decorating a few droplets of water on it, his glimmering eyes and his birthmark.

“Put your hand inside baby, it's dangerous!” His voice was muffled inside his helmet but it was still clear with what he said. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go and drove off. Your heart suddenly flew up to your throat, your cheeks flaring from the mere interaction.

“Lady, are you okay?! Who is that?!” 

“Who was that? Back up are chasing that vehicle! 1027 kindly track down—!” Your driver suddenly reported on his walkie talkie which alerted you as you heard a confirmation that you suddenly shot up from your seat and took the walkie talkie in your hand, “No no don’t chase him! This is your lady speaking, do not chase him, he’s harmless!”

You felt the walkie talkie make noises in confirmation before you heard the siren turned off not far from your car. You gave the walkie talkie back to NingNing, you huffed out looking back outside, “He was just telling me to put my hand back in …”

“Why my lady?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

6 months later …

“I have assigned you your bodyguard, dear.” Your father said, you furrowed your eyebrows— glancing behind you were NingNing and 3 more of yours and your father’s bodyguard were trailing not so far— She bows her head indicating she did not know anything about it. 

You turn back to your father, “Why? I don’t need more bodyguards! They’re enough.” Your father sighs, shaking his head, “He knows more combat skills and he is friends with Park Seonghwa. They were in the same academy.”

You scoffed, watching from the corner of your eyes as two male in suits bowed in your presence as they opened the doors of your father’s meeting room wherein you will meet your new bodyguard. Your father’s emotion change into a soft look as he glance at the male across the room, “Ah~ Yeosang, how have you been son?” Your dad brought the guy in his arms as they quickly shared a hug before leading him to your spot.

As your eyes settled on the guy, your heart started speeding up as you locked eyes with the same one you saw 6 months ago, your eyes flickered to the birthmark and you were indeed more surprised that it was really him. Your hands become sweaty when he approach you.

A smile on his face as he took your hand, reaching to touch his lips— he kissed the back of your hand— without tearing his eyes off you, he gave your hand a squeeze– the same amount of strength when he did it back then, “It’s nice to finally meet you … baby.”

You snatched back your hand back, making your cheeks flared, Yeosang chuckles softly, "Why my lady?"

You furrow your brow, clearing your throat as your eyes flickers everywhere, catching your aide's teasing look then back to him, "Because it's dangerous."

[ranhaitanisgf]

Good evening! Can I request Shinichiro with “flower shop” and “going on a date in a flower field” please. Tons of fluffy moments as well. Thank you very much and congrats on 2k!!!

— shinichiro sano // flower shop // date in a flower field

[𖤐] helloooo another post !! i thought this was such a cute combo, so i hope that i did it justice!! thank you anon for requesting this so long ago, and i hope you enjoy my lovelies !! xoxo

wc: 1.0k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

the sound of a bell rang throughout your shop, the noise making your head perk up to see who had walked through the door. standing at your doorway with a big smile on his face was your boyfriend, his black hair tousled from his bike helmet. 

“shinichiro!” you slipped the gardening gloves off of your hands, placing them carefully to the side before you stepped out from behind the counter of the shop and walked over to him. his arms opened wide, and you giggled, wrapping your arms around him and breathing in his scent of motor oil. “did you just come from your shop?” you questioned, pulling away a bit to look at him. 

“yeah, i wanted to take you somewhere, if that’s alright with you?” a boyish smile stretched across his lips as he looked at you hopefully. “i know you don’t close for another two hours, but can you make an exception this time?” he asked, and who were you to refuse those eyes?

you put a finger to your chin, pretending to think hard about the idea for a few seconds. 

“i guess i could close up earlyyyy, as long as it’s for my cute boyfriend!” you mused, looking at him with a smile. shinichiro gave a warm smile, pulling you close again and spinning you around. 

“you just can’t say no to me, can you?” 

“of course not~” your boyfriend pulled back and took your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before twirling you around, playfulness in his eyes. 

“i’ll be waiting outside for you.” with one last kiss to your hand, he exited your store, getting his bike started up. you rushed through your closing duties for your store, taking the money out of the register and turning the lights hastily before locking the door. 

you were so happy you were almost skipping over to shinichiro, who had been patiently waiting for you. he held out a helmet to you, a grin on his face. 

“i think that was the fastest i’ve ever seen you close up, (y/n).” 

“well, i have something important to do! i have to go hang out with my super cute boyfriend, duh!” your words made him laugh a bit as you took the helmet, securing it onto your head and getting on the back of his bike. 

the familiar feeling of wrapping your arms around his waist comforted you, especially after a long day of work. shinichiro pushed the kickstand back with his foot, revving the engine and driving off. 

there was a fair amount of driving through the business of the city before the two of you made it outside of city limits and into a more rural area. you’d thought to ask shinichiro where the two of you were going, but you figured that he would want to keep it a surprise anyways. 

after around an hour of driving, he finally slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a stop before turning his bike off and pushing the kickstand back down. 

“we’re here!” he exclaimed, getting up and stretching his limbs. you took the helmet off of your head, shaking out your hair a bit as you placed the helmet on the side handle. ever the gentleman, your boyfriend held out a hand to help you off of his bike. 

“how chivalrous of you, shin~” you teased, putting your hand in his. he gently pulled you up, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“it’s just the gentlemanly thing to do, right?” his fingers threaded through yours, starting to lead you out from the road and through a small grove of trees. “it’s not that much farther, okay?”

“mm, okayy.” you hummed, stepping over tree roots. after a few minutes of walking, shinichiro suddenly stopped, turning back to you. 

“do you trust me?” 

“of course.” 

“okay, good.” he laughed. getting behind you, shinichiro placed his hands over your eyes, blocking your vision. “i’ll lead you for the last part, ‘cause i want this to be a big surprise. now, take a few steps forward…” you did as he said, avoiding the tree roots he warned you about and walking for another minute or so. 

“are we almost there?” 

“yeah, we just arrived. you ready?” 

“mhm!” 

“okay, 3…2…1!” his hands were removed from your eyes, and your vision was filled with colors beyond belief. 

you were standing in front of an enormous tulip field, with every color of tulip as far as the eye could see. pink, yellow, red, orange…the sheer amount of tulips that there were was blowing you away. 

“surprise!” your boyfriend said, moving to your side as he looked at you. “do you like it?”

“are-are you kidding me?! i love it!!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck. “i can’t believe you found something like this!” shinichiro laughed, picking you up and spinning you around for a couple seconds. when he put you down, his grin shifted into a soft smile, looking at you with so much love in his eyes. they suddenly lit up though; he had an idea. without any warning, he ran into the field, looking around for a second before plucking a tulip from the ground and running back to you. standing in front of you again, panting a little bit, shinichiro’s fingers gingerly slipped the tulip behind your ear. 

“i’ve taught you well, shin!” 

“hah, what?”

“red tulip?” you questioned, wrapping your arms around his neck with a knowing smile on your lips. “you’re smooth, y’know that?” shinichiro laughed at your words, his hands settling on your hips. 

“well, if i didn’t pick up that much while dating you, it would bring down my reputation, wouldn’t it?”

“i suppose so.” you pondered, running your hands through the back of his hair. getting a bit up on your tiptoes, you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, although you saw a rather frowny expression when you pulled away. “what’s with the frown, shin?” 

“you missed…” 

“let me try again then.” lifting your feet a bit once again, you now pressed your lips to his, feeling a bit of a smile from him. he pulled you just a little bit closer, his lips slotting against yours perfectly. after a few moments, you pulled away, giving him a sweet smile. 

“mm, (y/n), i think you missed again.” 

“oh? should i try again then?” 

“yeah, i think so.”

red tulips -- their deep red hues evoke feelings of passion, love, and lust — making them an especially popular choice for new, younger couples. they can also mean “believe me” or “my feelings are true.”

[comradekatara]

Hi, hope you're well.

What type of vehicle (non-motor options also welcome) would the gaang + others own/use? But also which vehicle would they like to have (so like a dream vehicle)

aang: one of those kids who bikes everywhere like he’s in an 80s movie. he’d probably get some kind of eco-friendly electric car. or he’d find a way to paraglide everywhere idk

katara: ideologically opposed to cars, exclusively takes public transport (or just straight up walks, or if she’s really desperate, makes sokka drive her), but it is a secret dream of hers to have a really cool badass motorcycle, even though she is fully aware of how dangerous they are (or at least, so she claims). fwiw jet and haru both ride motorcycles; jet’s is really loud fuckoff motorcycle, whereas haru’s is more like a cute little green moped

sokka: he can drive, but because it’s his family’s car, he only drives it when absolutely necessary, bc the thought of getting a single scratch on it and disappointing gran gran, his absent father, or even his mother’s ghost, is a thought too nerve-wracking to bear. his dream vehicle is an efficient nationwide high speed rail. his slightly more realistic dream vehicle is that car from james bond (yes i know it’s an aston martin im talking specifically about the aston martin from the bond films that q modifies in various ways don’t @ me)

toph: her family probably has a chauffeur. she obviously cannot drive, nor does she care about breeds of cars. she’d like driving in a fast convertible though for the feeling of the wind in her hair

zuko: also grew up with a chauffer. never learned how to drive bc he has no depth perception. which is a very good thing because his road rage would be atrocious. his dream vehicle is probably a beautiful dappled grey horse.

suki: she drives/lives in her pickup truck. she wishes she drove/lived in a slightly bigger pickup truck, or perhaps a red ferrari

mai: she was born to ride the new york city subway. she loves to hop the turnstile even though she can afford it, but it’s not about that. it’s about the principle ($2.90 is simply appalling), and most importantly, it’s about the thrill of it. however, i do think she’d enjoy driving too, if only because she loves fingerless leather gloves. she doesn’t really need a car to wear that though.

ty lee: she’s a very sensible driver. she’s never gotten a ticket but if she did she would get out of it masterfully. her dream car is that toy pink convertible barbie drives in the barbie movie.

azula: never learns how to drive because she never needs to learn: she does not drive, she is driven. she doesn’t care what kind of car she’s being driven in, as long as it’s noticeably expensive. one time mai makes her ride the subway with her and she is scared out of her mind. she expresses that fear through loud disgust

[honeeslust]

Shigaraki | greedy

This is a little rushed but I rewatched that last fight of Mha and well… you know how I do lol

You hopped off of Shigaraki’s bike, panting as your heart raced like a motor in your chest. You bent over putting hands on your knees while you tried to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe that you had just gotten away with him.

As you sucked in a deep breath of air, Shigaraki was at your side. You ok, Angel?

I’m fine, you stood and smiled at the ground instead of him and he noticed.

Why do you always do that?

Do what you sighed, looking off to the side. still coming down from the pure adrenaline rush you had just experienced. He lifted your face so that you could look up at him. The gesture put even more on edge than you already were. Being so close to him made you feel vulnerable, like there was nothing you could ever hide from him. Nor would you have to.

You always look away, afraid I might actually see you?

You couldn’t say anything. The truth was that you did this because you couldn’t handle the way he looked at you, it was like he was looking into you.

You don’t have to hide from me.

This was bad. He was wearing you down and he knew it. Shigaraki had always wanted you for himself, and now, you considered whether it would be so bad to let him.

He wasn’t who you were supposed to like. He was intimidating but exciting. He was dangerous, but somehow you always felt safe with him. And in a way, he always seemed to be daring you. To do what? That part you couldn't quite figure out. So maybe that's why this time you didn't pull away from him when he planted himself firmly in your space.

All you had ever known was how to people please. So when he came along and showed you how good it could feel to be selfish, you rushed toward the fire like a moth.

You stood there questioning everything, how would this even work? what would he think of you after?

The longer you looked into his eyes the more he sensed your hesitation. That's when he leaned in and brushed his gloved finger over your bottom lip.

Do you remember what I told you? He said looking at you with those scorching red eyes. If you want something, you take it.

After the way life had gone for you, you could appreciate how simple he made things. Why shouldn't you get to do what makes you feel good?

You touched his arm as he held your face. What if — it’s someone I want.

Finally speaking the words had your panicked heart hammering your chest. Never could you see yourself being so bold. But the rush you felt was because of him. He was daring you to be free.

You shouldn't think so much. He said removing his mask and revealing the countless striatic like scars across his face. You reached up and trailed your fingers along the linear markings. This time, you weren't going to turn away.

You're right. I shouldn't

You felt every lingering moment as you stared into his crimson eyes. You felt his hand skim down the side of your face, your arm, your hip—

And then you kissed him, deeply. The taste if his lips as he gladly drew your body to his had you ready to give him that taste he’d always wanted to desperately. You liked the way his tongue swirled around yours as he tilted his head into the kiss. You could feel how badly and how long he had needed you from the way he grabbed you tight and held you close.

You bite down hard on his lip, making him grab you by the throat and groan. Ow, he smirked, wiping the blood from his lip. He forced you to the wall behind, pinning you as he began to sucking all over your neck and chest leaving hickies everywhere.

As he happily marked your soft skin, you felt how much his roughness had excited you. A pool of warmth grew between your legs making you push your hips toward him inviting him in with your body.

Fuck me. You half moaned, hooking your leg around him.

Shigaraki pulled away and looked into your desperate eyes, surprised to actually here you say it. His wide eyes stared back at you, awaiting your invitation. You panted heavily, so hopped up on adrenaline and lust and nodded to him.

He couldn’t believe that you were finally giving in. He slipped his hand down between your legs and pushed them right against the slick area in your panties.

So wet from a kiss. Shigaraki teased rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. He worked them back and forth making you moan. Fuck you’re so sensitive, he grinned toying with you some more.

You moved your hips toward him silently begging him for more of his touch. You wanted him to fuck you but this— no other man that had ever touched you had made it feel like this. You felt yourself growing wetter as he worked his fingers in fast tight circles. Every little stroke made you arch and writhe until you were coming hard and soaking your panties even more.

His mouth captured your moans as he let up some of the pressure. Your eyes shot open wild and burning from how good it felt to come on the same fingers that could so easily kill you if he chose. Before you could even stop spasming he was at your clit again, teasing that button, and automatically your thighs tried to squeeze shut.

Your poor underserved kitty was too sensitive to take anymore. But he leaned in and sucked on your neck again. Don't hide from me, keep these legs open for me.

You tensed ready to detonate again when he whispered, be greedy Angel,he spoke low and slow working your pussy with such skilled hands need you to come for me.

The tightening in your core made your eyes roll back and you wept as the drool slipped past your trembling lip. Your body went limp and he held your weight as you shook from head to toe.

Shigaraki laughed, making you blush.

When your breath finally settled, you stood and straightened your dress. You shoved past him and walked back over to his bike. When you stopped and looked over your shoulder, it was your turn to laugh at him as he stood there completely confused.

You smiled and tapped the seat of the bike.

Let’s go. I asked you to fuck me, and as good as that was, I’m gunna need more than that.”

From the sblood room 🩸

[onlyseokmins]

biker!wonwoo who revs his motorcycle's engine at 3am every. single. morning. in the new apartment complex you moved into.

it's a sputtering annoyance, pain in the ass, and a total nemesis for you who has to wake up at 5am for work. you thought moving closer to the city and lessening the commute would allow for more sleep but you were sorely mistaken.

but you can't move out because this is only a recent thing! everything was fine and dandy for a whole month and you cannot believe you were duped like this.

so, after the third week of being woken up by an engine rather than your alarm two hours later and occasionally missing your phone going off altogether once you fell back asleep again - you decide to do something about it.

after getting home from work, you stomp over and knock on the door that corresponds to the motorcycle parked outside it before you lose your nerve. there's no answer and wonwoo, the owner himself, darkly watches the way you play with your jewelry nervously while waiting on the porch from his smartphone.

"who's that pretty thing?" vernon teases, leering over the man's shoulder only to laugh and walk away when the older man flips him off, middle finger's black nail polish all chipped.

a couple hours later, he leaves the rowdy bar with a smirk still on his face after having watched you flounce away - but not without slapping a hand resolutely on his door one last time. strolling up to his building, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, wonwoo's tongue pokes his cheek playfully at the bright yellow sticky note left behind.

"I figured you might be asleep given how late you're out and about at night. however, I ask if you could please try to be more considerate of your neighbors sleeping - kindest regards :) "

he hangs it on his empty fridge.

and you think it worked. it's been nice and quiet at night, able to wake up significantly well-rested and in a better mood. even your coworker seungkwan is surprised when you don't snap at him for talking about his third kid on the way.

until two weeks later and you're awoken rather rudely not just by one revving motorcycle - but many. repeatedly. and you're shocked you're the only one annoyed by the unnecessary interruption and looking worse for wear from the lack of sleep.

on friday, you're prepared. even though you worked all day, you watched one of your favorite kickass dramas just for the moment at 3am when you heard the engine fire up. flying outside, you point accusingly at the dark figure throwing a leg over the bike to straddle it.

"wow, was it too hard for you to be quiet?!"

wonwoo's head flies around, thankful he actually put his contacts in tonight - yes, he sometimes rides without them but shh, don't tell anyone - because he can take in your appearance rather than whatever you're saying about how he should buy a new motorcycle.

you had been in bed like a normal person so of course you were wearing a comfy t-shirt and very obviously - no bra. wonwoo's throat dries up despite his drooling, noting your bare legs for free viewing before he tosses back, "aren't ya bein' the loud one, sugar?"

with that, he's quick to use the heel of his boot to flip up the kickstand and drive away when you angrily turn around at his condescending tone. the sneak peak of black lace - of all things - when your shirt rides up causing him to harshly grip the handlebars and try not to veer off the road. but not without glancing in the mirrors to sure you make it back inside safely.

wonwoo apologizes to you in the morning.

you think nothing of the man with messy bangs and thick glasses standing outside. not until the smell of motor oil hits your nose when you open the door, a familiar leather jacket matching the material of the fingerless gloves that cautiously wave hello, and the low drawl of "hey sugar, sorry 'bout last night. and the nights before that i s'ppose."

ofc you're highly tempted to slam the door in his face but kevlar boots hold it ajar while he smirks. "Our side of the city can get a little dangerous even with our territory expandin'. don'tcha think it's best to stay in my good graces?"

he thinks it's a shame that no one told a sweet thing like you about the dangerous stand-off between rival gangs in the area. your family had warned you about the motorcycle riders but most outside the city believed them to be an urban legend. but no, here you are in the middle of the crossfire and likely pissed off one of the big guns.

but wonwoo's actually quite fond of you. you slowly learn this and how dangerous he is after he begrudgingly takes you to see his leader - shooing nosy vernon who is hoverig. you're searching for your darn landlord to try and haggle a way to move out. somewhere safer.

"sweetheart, the safest you'll ever be is by jeon's side," seungcheol laughs with smoke billowing out of his mouth and you honestly think he's just fucking with you. "there's a target on your back and they already know what you look like."

well, shit.

"oh and don't bother about your landlord, my men wiped that bastard's existence off the streets for scammin' my boys... and people like you, i guess."

and so here you are and here you stay. surprisingly wonwoo doesn't push himself on you. instead, he exists like a stoic and quiet guard dog that lurks in the background that you just keep around. offering the smallest of smiles whenever you toss him a bone of attention that has your heart thumping and your gut twisting.

he hangs around the complex a lot more often, driving his bike a tad less which leads to a reduction in noise pollution and more sleep. though you start picking up the unforgettable hum of its engine whenever he casually shows up, close enough to watch over you getting off work but putting enough distance out of respect and to not rouse the rival gang's suspicion or intentions.

"besides," he tries to explain in a lazy drawl one night when you tentatively offer a beer and sit with him on your porch to ask. "you'd need to learn how to ride my bike and you have to get comfortable 'nough 'round me first to do that."

little do you both realize how wrapped around his finger - the physical one you just finished applying a fresh coat of black paint to - you are and vice versa.

you've lowered his high walls with your kind but spitfire nature and keeping his fridge filled with proper food/drinks and littered with more sticky notes. and he's pried open yours. not just with the fingers you'd disinfected, bandaged, and kissed easing gently in the wet heat between your legs that he has dreamt of since that fateful night and memorizing which spots make you moan the loudest. but also the quiet man who prefers the company of books rather than the fist fighting brawls he's always having to assist his gang brothers in.

but they are also his family, bonds forged by the blood spilled together rather than what runs in their veins. You can respect that, hands running across part of the gang symbol tattoo on his shoulder that will eventually reflect the back of his leather jacket - a matching one in the works for you, courtesy of seungcheol's partner.

you'd asked when he would get the rest of the elaborate design finished and he promises - with a kiss to your forehead and the dingy ring he'd given you (that's really a key ring twisted into a more flattering shape to fit your finger) - he would after saving up for few more years. lowkey, you still feel bad for yelling at him to buy a new motorcycle when he's so hard on money. by now, you've gotten used to the sound of the engine and the ride - of both the vehicle and the man.

for now, wonwoo is more than content with just your nails marking up his back instead and the warmth of your cheek pressed against it when he zooms through the city. although for his birthday, you put in a few extra hours and surprise him with a new bike - one that's engine roars obnoxiously loud!

yeah, he's completely in love with you and makes sure to baptize it with a mixture of your arousal and a couple cumstains that very night you gift it to him. the spot under the bridge, near the library that only you and him know about.

"when i first saw you all dressed up so cutely like you were going to sunday brunch with those bingo grannies, i thought there was no way you'd stick and stay around. but fuck, now you're all mine, huh sugar? never gonna leave me. under all those pretty layers is nothing but my sweet, desperate cockslut. hm, what on earth father joshua think of you spreading your legs and letting me bend you over my bike all the time? should i let you go to service next sunday with my cum soaking your panties and dripping down your legs?"

[shatterinseconds]

Hoverbike

Inspired by @froopa-coopa’s art from a few months ago

After three years stuck in space, and another two roaming the galaxy leading the Blade of Marmora on relief missions, Keith’s hoverbike fell into major disrepair. The hot desert air and sand gunked the machine enough for it to spit black fumes when Keith tried to kickstart it again. That had been a week ago, where after visiting Lance’s family in Cuba for a month they decided to head to Keith’s shack for some needed alone time, but the new parts finally arrived, and Lance was unfortunately jostled awake way too early in the morning to “help.”

He sits cross legged on top of the hoverbike while Keith works underneath. They trade short conversations back and forth, mostly Lance guiding them. But a large part is spent in silence, knowing that the other is there in close range being enough for them. Lance doesn’t mind. He gets to enjoy the warm sun on face and think of his family and realize how glad he is to be back on Earth for an indefinite stay this time. 

Keith slides out with grease smeared on his cheek and hair bunched up from welding goggles. It’s a super cute look. Too bad Lance’s phone is charging inside. Keith stretches up his hand above, waving it around a bit, wordlessly.

“What do you want, Mullet?” Lance leans forward, bracing his hands on the leather seat so he doesn’t fall off accidentally.

“Over there. Tool box,” Keith finally uses his words, a bit exasperated, which causes Lance to roll his eyes. It’s not Lance’s fault they never met an alien race that could grant them mind reading powers—which would have been so cool.

Instead, he mumbles, “I don’t speak mechanic.” But he still digs around in the tool box, having a vague idea after watching Hunk for years and Keith more recently. A note of triumph echoes in the back of his throat as he finds the potential tool. “This?” he asks as he leans over the bike, Spiderman style, staring at Keith upside down. He holds out what he thinks is a screwdriver but with an odd shaped head. 

“Yeah.” Keith grabs the screwdriver without so much as an ounce of gratitude but Lance doesn’t care. He huffs a laugh until Keith pops back out, remembering himself. “Thanks.”

Lance grins and taps his lips. “You forgot something else.”

“I smell like motor oil. You don’t want a kiss.”

“I always want a kiss, Mullet,” Lance says with ease. His smile grows, almost starting to stretch wide enough to hurt. “If I can soldier through your bad morning breath, I can handle this.”

Keith grumbles something unintelligible but sits up enough that he and Lance are mere inches away now. “You have the bad morning breath,” he mumbles as he pulls Lance towards him. A grimy hand gently cups his face. The smell of sweat, hard work, and engine grease scratch the inside of Lance’s nose. And yet, it’s in his top five of Keith kisses—right up there with their first kiss, their post-sex kisses, and that time Keith caught him by surprise during a Coalition banquet because jealousy had started to get the better of him.

Lance digs his hands into Keith’s tangled hair, pushing back the goggles, and deepens the kiss. Keith’s free hand slides to Lance’s waist, stabilizing him so they don’t both crash to the ground. Every place Keith touches buzzes from the warm contact. Those fingerless gloves brush over a smooth patch of skin, exposed by his shirt falling forward and catching under his armpits. Keith pulls on his lower lip before separating, biting down in a way that causes Lance to mutter a curse and for Keith to break out into a pleased grin.

“See,” Lance says as he knocks his forehead against Keith’s. His chest heaves from the lack of air. Keith always makes him breathless, quite literally most of the time. “You almost missed out on that.”

Shaking his head, Keith laughs. “I’m glad I didn’t.” He pecks Lance’s lips one more time before he disappears under the bike again and Lance returns to lying on top, very content.

[howtoplanatrip]

Motorbike Accessories Riding a motorbike wouldn’t be complete without its gadgets and that's why EMX Motors LLC brings you motorbike accessories in Dubai, such as helmets, shirts, gloves, and shoes. Book your order online now!

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 07

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Foul language; Word Count: ~11.6K Previous chapter: 06.

The run had completely exhausted me. Steep hills were clearly not my strong point, but I couldn't say the effort wasn't worth it. The line of the horizon fused with whatever lines we’d woven for ourselves, which had divided the two parallel lives we lived away from each other’s gaze.

Although having him around was challenging, I felt lighter. Experiencing the person he had become, mature and adult, but still so him, made me proud and sad in the same measure. Nonetheless, that talk and confrontation were needed. I needed that, to see and listen to that other side of him and learn to trust it. That other side, the version of him that took shape in these last years. Sainz.

It was Sainz that I couldn’t trust. Not Carlos, not Chili as we used to call him. Sainz. The night before, during the match, I had seen a fraction of Carlos when he put his hand on my thigh and made sure I was comfortable with the guests, a fraction of Chili when he got me a beer without me asking, and then a lot of Sainz each time the people around us tried, forcefully and some times even embarrassingly, to get his attention.

It didn’t matter the glimmers of hope that having him around brought me, there was still a barrier. The fall was too big to risk and the rope was held too high. And yet, having him back seemed to offer a glimpse of stability in a life that had become increasingly unsteady.

Rio was leaving, the unpredictability of my career was taking a toll on me and everything else seemed to be constantly shifting. In the midst of all that chaos, the possibility of Carlos staying around was like an anchor that kept me from being swept away.

The fear of getting hurt again was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but for better or for worse, Carlos Sainz had once again become a fixture in my life, and I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us.

That afternoon, after lunch, I fell asleep near the pool, and my feet dipped in the water.

I woke up to the sound of two loud motors, a distinct sharp noise. They were not cars or jetskis. I sat up and looked around, half of me still battling laziness and sleepiness, another part of me completely annoyed by being woken up by that sound.

Marjorie, who I gathered had been asleep in one of the loungers, grunted while getting up. “What the actual f—” and then her tone shifted, “Hi babe!”

I looked behind me; my brother was standing on the terrace, at the top of the stairs.

“We got two bikes!” Rio proudly announced.

“You got what?” Her ginger hair fell in waves on her back.

“Two bikes, for me and Chili.” He pointed with his thumb to the path leading to the front of the house. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Weren’t you two supposed to go to the market?”

“Evita, come oooon. We couldn’t let the opportunity escape.” I looked at Marjorie, confused and she was looking at me too, with sleepy eyes and frowned brown. “Andiamo, ragazze!”

Marjorie motioned with her head and I got up from the sponge mattress I’d laid down on the grass. The fabric was hot to the touch. I dragged it to one of the loungers before turning back to my brother who impatiently waited.

“Where did you even find the bikes?” I asked him.

“We rented them.”

I looked up, my hands on the straps of my sandals. Carlos appeared behind Rio, holding what seemed to be two pairs of leather gloves and a white helmet. He passed one of the pairs to my brother and instantly, a childish grin took his features; his eyes glistening like a little kid on a Christmas morning.

“Nice,” he said under his breath.

I made my way up the stairs fixing the creases on my dress, tight but fresh, crocheted in summery clothes. Marjorie and I had spent the early hours of the afternoon on the sea, and then laid down for a nap near the pool, in the shadow of the trees in the garden. My hair, in a braid, was still a bit wet, falling over my shoulder.

“Are you even allowed to ride a bike during summer break?”

Rio looked down at me, and then at Carlos and me again. “Help me here, mate,” he extended his hand to the Spaniard and while Carlos helped him with the strap, he said: “It’s just a bike ride. We need to get his back tomorrow.”

Marjorie turned to the guys and called out, "Carlos?”

I looked over to see my sister-in-law motioning towards me, silently asking for his confirmation. "It's just a ride to the market and back," he reassured me, "relax, just a stroll." I let out a defeated sigh and glanced over to Marjorie, who simply shrugged in response. "The bikes are in front," he informed us.

As I walked towards the front of the house, I saw the bikes and three more helmets parked in the shadow next to Carlos' car. Carlos himself was already getting on his bike, putting on his leather gloves and white helmet, his hair slightly dishevelled but somehow still looking impeccable. Damn him and his hair. He then donned his Ray-Bans.

A couple of steps away, Rio had already started his engine.

Carlos extended the last helmet to me. "Come on. It'll be fun.”

I took the helmet and then his hand, hopping on the bike behind him. A rush of excitement ran through me, though it was tempered with a tinge of nervousness. He placed his right hand on my thigh, the warmth of his skin seeping through mine. He turned his head back to me. "Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The wind blew through my hair as we rode along the narrow path leading to the main road. I held onto Carlos' waist tightly, feeling the muscles under his shirt tense as we swerved around sharp corners. I let my arms wrap around his waist, my hands meeting each other on his abdomen. We rode in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the rush of air in my ears. The scent of the sea melded with the smells of oil and rubber, as well as Carlos' cologne. The notes of sandalwood grew more intense with the heat and the sweat.

It didn’t take us long to arrive at the familiar market, planted near a small village bathed by the Mediterranean. Rio and Marjorie had already parked their bike and were waiting for us. Carlos parked next to them.

"Not that bad, huh?" my brother's voice roared over the sound of the engine, approaching us to help me dismount. "Drama queen."

“Not bad.”

“I could get used to this, actually,” Carlos said.

I snorted, undoing the straps of my helmet. “Nah, you couldn’t.”

Carlos took off his helmet, running his fingers through his hair, and I couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight caught the highlights in his hair. “Why not?”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you ride a bike.”

“And?” He extended his hand and took my helmet out of my hands.

“If it was not for Rio, you wouldn’t rent it, in the first place. Let alone buy one.”

“Did you hear this?” He asked my brother.

“And she’s right.”

As Carlos chuckled, he reached into his pocket, tucking his gloves away as we strolled towards the bustling market. The sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder with each step, and the sweet scent of ripe fruit tickled my senses, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

The market was bustling with locals and tourists alike, the stalls selling everything from fruit, to fresh seafood and handmade crafts. The air was thick with the mingling of scents and languages, creating an atmosphere that was full of the Mediterranean's enchanting charm that I missed so dearly.

As we wandered, Rio and Carlos drifted ahead. Meanwhile, Marjorie and I lingered at each stall, taking in the sights and sounds, chatting with the sellers, and breathing in the fragrant aromas. Our organic net bags were already heavy when we found the guy—Rio on his phone, and Carlos hunched over one of the stalls. Marjorie stopped next to Rio, and I walked over to the stall, sneaking in being Carlos.

“Oh, the sign says they’re the sweetest in the market,” I said. Carlos turned to me, holding a small bunch of grapes. I motioned to another stall not too far away, “they all say the same.”

The Spaniard raised the bunch of grapes to the level of his eyes. “They look pretty good to me.”

“But are they the sweetest?” I replied, my tone teasing.

He plucked a grape from the bunch, his grin wide and eyebrows raised playfully. "Let's find out."

A Spanish song that I didn’t know was playing on the radio set over a crate of fruit, and a tired, melancholy whistling could be heard accompanying the melody. I looked around. With his eyes on a newspaper, an old man was sitting on a wooden bench; a coffee stain on the sleeve of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“You can’t eat the grapes…” I whispered, my eyes drifting from the old man to the handsome, way younger Spaniard in front of me. Carlos teased me, opening his mouth. I frowned.

“You eat it, then,” he held it out to me. I shook my head. “He won’t go after a lady. Come on.”

I hesitated for a moment, but the whistling continued, and the man seemed too distracted with the news to pay attention to two tourists in his stall. Carlos’ eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite understand, his expression becoming sterner as I leaned him, grabbed the grape from his pinch and popped it in my mouth.

It burst with flavour, the sweetness tingling on my tongue, making me close my eyes in pleasure. Carlos' grin widened, and he plucked another grape, offering it to me again.

"You know what, the sign might be actually telling the truth.”

“Should I have this one?”

“Hm, hm,” I nodded, reaching for another one, from the small bunch he was holding. He, too, reached for another grape. My eyes drifted from his portrait to his slender fingers, taking their time picking one of the half dozen left in the saturated red bunch.

But instead of hearing a pleasurable hum coming from his lips, the old man’s voice permeated the moment. He was now hobbling over to the stall, eyes flashing with annoyance.

“¡Que cosa! Look at the sign!” The old man harrumphed, pointing to another sign. “No eating before paying!”

“Oh, no, I—”

“Lo siento, señor,” Carlos turned around, interrupting me. “We’re just…”

The old man's eyes widened, and he took both hands to his head. "Ay! Carlos Sainz!" he exclaimed, rushing over to us in fast, unsteady steps. Carlos looked at me, his embarrassment resembled in his shaky grin.

Carlos chuckled, "Yes, that's me."

"My grandson loves you!" The old man beamed, gesturing to a small frame next to the radio, a small boy was smiling in the picture and then shook Carlos’ hand vigorously. "He always wants to watch you on TV. And your father! Your father is a legend." The man looked around. “Is he around by any chance?”

“No, no,” Carlos pointed at me, and then at the couple waiting for us not too far away. “Just the four of us, for today. And let me apologize for the grapes, we’re going to pay for them.”

The old man just waved his hand dismissively, "No, no, it's okay. Keep them!” His voice softened, noticing Carlos wouldn’t accept to take the fruit. “It’s my offer. Please, take them. And take this, too." He then reached behind the stall and pulled out a small basket. His hand, wrinkly and hairy, hovered on top of the fruit. “Do you like figs?”

The bright colours caught my attention. The smell, the colours, the music coming from the radio, so slow and light, stretching through the air. It felt like being trapped in a living painting.

“Eva,” I heard Carlos. I hadn't noticed he was looking at me before. “Do you like figs?” And then, motioned to the old man, waiting for my reply.

“I’m sorry. I do, I love figs.”

The old man's grin widened. “Come close, try one.”

The old man opened it up for me. I took a bite. Soft and juicy, with a delicate sweetness that was almost addictive. As I bit on it, the juice ran down my fingers, creating a thin, sweet, shiny film around my lips and fingers. I couldn't resist licking them, savouring the sweet nectar and the way it clung to my skin. I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under Carlos' intense gaze. His eyes bore into me, fixated on the way my lips wrapped around my thumb. It was like he was watching my every move, studying my every expression, trying to decipher my thoughts.

I couldn't help but feel a little flustered under his gaze, but at the same time, I couldn't deny the thrill that ran through me. There was something about the way he looked at me. Intense and magnetic, that sent shivers down my spine.

Carlos cleared his throat, breaking me out of my reverie, and turned to the stall once again.

"Yeah. We will take some figs.”

Wednesday was slow.

Heart beating fast, but reality danced around us at a slow pace.

What can one do when reality tastes like figs and smells like the sea and sandalwood?

It was not just the figs and the sea air, and the cologne. It was not just the Mediterranean light or the aura that so easily takes us over. It was the way he looked at me. The adoring gaze, that I knew from before, but was now tainted by a thin layer of lust, tick enough to cloud my senses and drive me into spirals.

Thursday passed in a breeze; I only saw him for dinner, as he spent all day golfing with the boys. And then came Friday.

Like some other days, we were at home. We spent the day alternating between basking in the sun on the yacht, driving around in jetskis or diving into the crystal-clear water. Easy.

It was easier when we were at home.

The trees and the sea shielded us from reality and for a time we could simply live without worrying about curious eyes or unwelcomed lenses. I liked that. To be locked away from the world in a reality moulded to us, for us.

On top of that, seeing my friends talk in the garden, or joke around in the yacht, wearing swimsuits with a beer in hand, and walking around barefoot not worrying about anything else but the moment, reminded me of the little family we once were. I loved our bubble, where no one was famous and no friendships had been torn apart by distance.

Like I did every day, I texted a photo to my mom — Rio laid in a hammock, with the sea as the background, but this time she texted me back saying she should have accepted Reye’s invitation to spend a few days there. I said she should have, it would have been nice for them.

And then I read the messages Lin and Nicola had left in our group chat, avoiding all the questions about Carlos, because there were a lot of them. And finally, I called Amanda, trying to assure her I was in fact enjoying the vacation and was not locked in the office. I think I spent half an hour talking to her, filling her up on the events of the recent days before my brother interrupted me.

“C’mon. Volleyball,” Rio stood between me and the sun, putting a shadow over me and shielding my skin from the warm kiss of the sun. “Carlos wants to play. Vamos.”

Amanda said goodbye in a hurry, probably after listening to Rio’s voice. I left my phone on the side and sat up on the lounger, facing Rio that was already standing in his blue swimming trunks with an orange and yellow volleyball under his arm.

“And what do I have to do with that?”

“We’re uneven.”

“Well, stay with me and Carlos plays in your place.”

In response to my suggestion, my brother just shrugged and looked behind him at Guillermo, Blanca’s boyfriend, helping Carlos assemble the net. My attention was grabbed by Marjorie, running down the stairs with her ginger hair arranged in a messy french braid and wearing a long shirt over her black swimsuit.

“Eva! C’mon, lass,” she screamed, joining Carlos and Guillermo next to the net.

“Volleyball isn’t played with teams of four!” I screamed back, making Rio sigh again, this time threatening to throw the ball in my direction. I just put both my hands in front of my face, in an instinct to protect myself. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“DiMaggio versus Sainz,” Carlos screamed from the other side of the garden. The net was set and he was standing next to Marjorie.

“Ah, you traitor,” Blanca interjected, joining her boyfriend on the other side of the net. Ana and Rodrigo joined them too.

Rio looked back at me, his eyebrow raised in a defiant expression and the victorious look of someone who knows that had won a battle. He knew I couldn’t say no, especially now that everybody was ready and waiting for me, and there was an actual challenge. As I went past him, I took the ball from his hands, hearing in response a couple of Italian curse words and a strident laugh from Marjorie.

Carlos, on the other side of the net, smiled at me. “See?” he asked Marjorie. “All it takes is adding a bit of competition and she changes her mind.”

“I won’t forget you’re the enemy, Sainz,” I threw the ball at him. “You serve.”

That didn’t take the smile away from his face. Marjorie ran to her position in front of her husband and I went to her side. I looked at Carlos as he spun the ball in his hands and threw it in the air.

The following moments rolled in slow motion. His arms extended over his head and his hair moved graciously with his jump. With the sound of the impact of his hand on the synthetic leather of the ball, a wave crashed over me. My eyes ventured along the lines of his body; it was inevitable to not admire the way his arms contracted or the way his movement revealed a patch of paler skin, covered with a light brown fuzz, just above the waistband of his shorts.

The lines, the sumptuously curved outlines of him. His body seemed to be sculpted with the sole purpose of making me desire him.

I turned my head to the other side of the net, my eyes following the ball, fully committed to the game, but I couldn’t forget Carlos was there, always two steps away from me. I tried to dodge him every time we got too close, always looking back to be sure I wouldn’t have to feel his sweaty skin against mine.

Every cell of my body buzzed just from that idea.

I wanted it more than I cared to admit.

Even to myself.

In the intervals between points, Marjorie and Rio would kiss or hug each other. In the meantime, Carlos would approach me with a smile and an open hand for a high-five and our eyes would lock. No words, nothing. Just a casual glance and I would feel myself melting inside. Everything else faded in comparison. The conversations, the laughs, the screams and the insults. Each time his eyes landed on me, everything went silent. And I realised a big part of why I enjoyed that little bubble was because Carlos was with me in it and, for the first time in a while, none of us was trying to burst it.

“Last one,” Blanca was the one to call it and, although we had a pretty good advantage, I knew we wanted that last point on our side. “We need to leave in two hours.”

Rodrigo took the ball in his hand and I moved to my place. I could see Blanca on the other side of the net, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. In a couple of seconds, her face became a blur and the screams and the laughs came back in a rush.

“Eva!” Marjorie screamed my name and I knew I was the only one who could reach the ball. I ran to the net, ready to block their move and all of a sudden, a strong grip on both sides of my waist.

Arms extended over my head, hands ready to take the impact and my mind desperately trying to ignore his strong firm hands. The ball fell on the floor on the other side and, quicker than that, I felt my feet on the ground and my back going against Carlos’ chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around my body, stopping me from falling.

I turned around, my eyes locked with his. My eyes refused to let go of his, my body was unresponsive to anything but the warmth of his embrace. I looked down, at my hands on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat on my digits. His sweat on my palms. Jesus.

I knew he felt it too.

“Good team effort,” he whispered.

Rio screamed victory, I took a step back. The bubble burst.

Carlos turned his back, not before winking at me, and then walked to Marjorie and Rio and I, still trying to recollect myself and drift back to reality, went back to my sun lounger, where my phone and water bottle rested in the shadow. I sat down, had a sip of the water and looked at the group, each individual following their own path. Guillermo and Carlos stayed there to take down the net, I went inside.

The skin of my palms tingled.

Even under the cold brush of the water, I could feel the beating of his heart on my digits and the fire his touch had ignited on my skin. I was down bad, horrendously bad. Not even a cold shower could bring me back on my feet.

Carlos had made his point straight, with words and gestures both.

The brush of his fingers on my arm during the flight. The touch under the table. His piercing gaze. The grip on my waist that afternoon. That was his way of showing it. He would not cross any line, but he was not going to back down.

And I hoped, God, I really hoped, I was reading it right.

I promised myself to make an effort to understand that whatever lines we’d drawn for ourselves weren’t eternal. They were just as ephemeral as every moment we chose to share with each other and so, they were capable of being erased and forgotten.

Dropping my barriers and welcoming the idea of trusting him again wouldn’t be as difficult as forcing him back out once again, now that he’d settled himself under a comfortable light in my mind. He was going back to being Carlos again. The boy next door and my brother’s best friend. Not the cocky, egoistic and overly busy Ferrari driver.

I left the room after being called twice by Rio, the first of all of us to get ready. He’d sit on my bed for a while, waiting for me to get ready and complain about my make-up and the dress I’d chosen. Rio was just like my dad—a fan of simplicity. He even made me spin in front of him, in the dusty pink backless dress, to make sure it wasn’t too revealing for the occasion.

We stopped as soon as we reached the entrance hall, where a portion of the group had already gathered. Guillermo and Rodrigo were already waiting outside, having a casual conversation by the car which keys were already in Blanca's hand. The keys to the other car, the Alfa Romeo Stelvio that Carlos had been driving over the last few days, still remained in the decorative bowl on the console.

“You haven’t decided on the ride, yet?” Rio sounded annoyed, a short sight leaving his lips before sitting next to his wife on the sage chaise lounge in front of the console.

“What’s the deal? Why isn’t Carlos driving?” I asked.

“They are eighteen again,” Marjorie mumbled, slightly irritated.

“We deserve a proper boys’ night,” my brother corrected her, his arm wrapping around Marjorie’s shoulders and giving her a small kiss on the cheek. “Where’s he, anyway?”

“On the phone,” Blanca replied. “We’re late. Do you want to call a cab?”

“No need, I can drive,” I said, walking to the console and taking the keys. “It’s fine.”

My brother and Marjorie followed Ana and Blanca outside, their silhouettes disappearing against the sunlight cast on the driveway. Before entering the car, the older shouted. “The car’s parked in the garage!”

With them outside, Carlos’ voice was clear, echoing in the space. It was easy to find him.

“We need to leave,” his eyes met mine the second I walked through the archway that led to the kitchen. He was putting his phone in the pocket of his dark jeans, standing near a window. “We’re already late.”

“Okay, let’s go, then,” he walked to me, extending his hand in my direction.

“We agreed I was going to drive,” I closed my hand around the keys and he stopped in front of me.

He frowned. “I don’t care. I’m driving.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him before speaking. Bad choice. He had his usual smile on his lips, a sweet smile that in the blink of an eye became a smirk full of meaning. I narrowed my eyes, my grip on the keys getting stronger.

“I do. I’m driving.”

Carlos took a step forward, getting closer to me. I had to raise my head a bit more to maintain eye contact. Annoying bastard. I rolled my eyes at his attempt to make himself look intimidating, or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Drop it.” He glanced at my hand. “You know I don’t like being driven around, especially in my own car.”

“I’m holding the keys. Unless you take them from me, I’ll be driving.” Carlos didn’t move an inch. “We can stay here until you get tired.”

"Is that a challenge?"

"Try me."

Joder. He relaxed his eyebrows and his smirk grew bigger. The next thing I knew, the air around us was being charged with electricity as his hazel eyes locked onto mine like he was trying to read my soul. God damn you. His sweet, tender gaze had turned into something darker, something so much deeper.

He took another step and, once again, he was dangerously close. This time I wouldn’t mind if he erased all the lines and barriers and dropped all my shields himself. His thumb rubbed the back of my hand. My eyes couldn’t leave his face. I was petrified at the moment, drifting away from all the negative feelings and diving into him. He leaned in and, for a second that seemed to last an eternity, I thought he was going to kiss me.

But he didn’t.

And I had opened my hand, just enough for him to take the key from my hand before I was able to understand what had just happened.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do it,” Carlos’ lips were brushing against my ear. My eyes were open wide, looking into the void. “Learn the lesson the first time.”

He left the kitchen. I just shook my head, my mind completely bereft of everything but the electricity his little move had filled my body with. I took a deep breath and resigned to the fact he had taken the best of me. I would’ve found that funny if I wasn’t completely flustered. Fucking idiot.

                                                        * 

We had been invited to a party by one of Carlos’ friends.

There was a small group waiting for us, from which I recognized a fair share of faces from that night. From the way the group welcomed Carlos, one would think the party had been thrown for him or by him. The host had even reserved him a parking spot on the driveway. Blanca had no such luck; she parked outside, on the road.

The house was not too far away from Costa del Pins and, just like the Sainzes’, it was located on a hillside and offered a nice view of the serene sea, still clear blue and dancing with ease against the rocks. From the driveway, standing next to my brother and Marjorie, I admired the house. My gaze continuously shifted from the building to Carlos, whose attention resided on a blonde girl, Mila, to who we were introduced the night of the match. They seemed to get along well.

For a second, I regretted leaving so early that night.

Just minutes before he had been so close to me that I felt inebriated by his perfume, almost dizzy just from experiencing him so close, and now there he was, walking alongside this girl with too much make-up and a sad sense of fashion.

Jealously doesn’t look pretty on me.

And I was not even sure why I was jealous.

As we walked across the stone path that lead us to the terrace at the back of the house, the music got louder and the voices and laughter became more clear. Rio and Marjorie were too busy with each other, as usual, and Blanca and Ana were talking about something I couldn’t find interest in simply because my eyes couldn’t leave the man walking ahead of us and the blonde on his side.

“Sainz!” The German accent that shouted out was strong. It stole Carlos’ attention and, consecutively, mine. I remembered that face from the night before and quickly realized that the German rally driver a.k.a. The Guy, was our host for the night. “You came, ’migo!”

Of course, Carlos pulled him for a hug, like they hadn't seen each other in forever. Suddenly, everything he did made me angry. Every drop of resentment was coming back. I was jealous and although I was doing everything to look like I wasn’t, I didn’t bother to convince myself otherwise.

“You already know them, no?” Carlos pointed to us. Rio hugged him as well and Marjorie did the same with her usual enthusiasm. Blanca and Ana were more simple – a polite kiss on the cheek was more than enough. Their boyfriends opted for a handshake.

When I approached him, the guy had a smile on his face. His eyes sparkled when I smiled at him too. I kissed his cheeks, once on each side. “I’m Eva.”

“DiMaggio, I remember,” he completed. “If Sainz didn’t steal all of our attention yesterday, I’d have more things to recall about you.”

“He likes the attention,” I think my eyes drifted to the girl for a second. “You’ll get used to it.”

His name hadn’t yet come to my mind. I couldn’t remember much from last night, not even who was the team Real had played against because, as the German said, Carlos had been the only thing I cared to pay attention to.

The guy only chuckled at my comment and patted Sainz on the back. “Call for me if you need anything. I’ll be around.” Then, he turned back to me. “You don’t need to call, I’ll have an eye on you at all times.”

That was a surprise, I’ll admit. The words drew a small laugh and a nod on my part. “I’ll remember that.”

When the guy turned around, Marjorie came up to me. Her ginger hair was tied in a high ponytail that fell over her bare shoulder. She looked at me with a big smile.

“Uwe’s into you!” Uwe. That was his name. Too unusual for me to simply remember. “Be sure to have some fun today.”

“He’s too… German?” I pondered, watching him disappear in the crowd; his shirt, with an awful pattern, disappeared with him.

“He’s quite a character, I know…” she paused. “But you probably won’t see him again, ever.”

That was a good argument, I’ll give her that, but it also reminded me of a certain Italian driver, whose presence had been lingering on my mind since the morning I’d left Imola. I tried not to think about him, which was not that hard considering that Carlos monopolized my attention the last few days, but I couldn’t help thinking about why he didn’t say anything about that poor spectacle in my hotel room.

I knew I would see Pulcini again and it didn��t stop me from anything.

On the other hand, I was pretty drunk that night and tonight I couldn’t even drink half as much. Also, Carlos was right there. If the mere memory of him had made me leave Andreas in a bathroom stall, I couldn’t tell what his presence would provoke. But, to be honest, if the blonde didn’t leave his side, I would probably sleep with Uwe just out of spite.

As I said, jealousy doesn’t look pretty on me.

“This may sound terrible, but I don’t remember all the names from last night. Could you reintroduce me to your friends?” Oh, her voice was annoying. My gaze drifted to her and then to him. Rio, standing next to Carlos was the first to step closer and introduce himself. Carlos made her a favour by introducing the rest of us. “I’m Mila, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in return.

I couldn't do more than just smile before excusing myself and leaving the group. Marjorie walked by my side, accompanying me to the bar on the right side where the guests were talking and swinging to the music.

Everybody seemed to know everybody. During the short walk, Blanca and Ana stopped multiple times to hug a few friends and introduce me and Marjorie to the ones we didn’t yet get to know. The good looks and the expensive perfumes were abundant. It actually seemed like it was the ideal night to have some fun.

An hour had already passed while we sat on the couches near the bar and my feet were already complaining. It surprised me how easy it was to get lost in the small talk, especially when the people around turned out to be more interesting than I thought. I accepted two flutes of champagne. That was plenty to get just loose enough to enjoy the party without getting drunk.

Every time my eyes met Carlos, he was always surrounded by a different small crowd, but the blonde girl was always there, right at his right side. Each time I laid my eyes on them it was a reminder of his status and the rumours that often appeared connected to his name all around social media. They’d gotten worse after Carlos signed for Ferrari and because we hardly saw each other since then, and I refused to say his name or talk about him with his sisters or my brother, there was no way of knowing if those rumours were real or just fabricated lies the fans made to entertain themselves.

Either way, Mia, Mila, or whatever her name was, didn’t leave his side. There was no way of denying that she really wanted his attention all for herself and, unlike the photos that occasionally appeared online, this time I could see them crystal clear. No blur or too much grain.

“Those meetings you’ve been having…” Blanca captured my attention, “work or race-related?”

“Normal work, nothing exciting,” I let her know. Marjorie and Blanca seemed appeased with the answer too. “I’m trying to not worry about racing, just for one week.”

“You deserve a real break,” the younger of the Sainzes took a sip of her drink. “And that includes tonight. I don’t wanna talk about work, especially when we know Eva is having a hard time.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, my back hitting the soft fabric of the couch. “I haven’t asked you yet,” my attention drifted to Marjorie, looking at me with a confused look on her face. “How are you handling all of this?”

“Oh,” a pause, then a sip. Then, she let the cup meet the mate black coaster placed on the table and played with the napkin at its side. “Not bad.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That means it’s not going well.”

“It’s not bad,” she repeated herself. “These last days have been amazing, I feel like I’m rediscovering my husband. At the same time, it feels like a goodbye, you know?”

Ana and Blanca shared a look. I think they felt displaced. They barely knew Marjorie and the last days didn’t give them enough time to understand the dynamics of her marriage with my brother.

“I mean,” she continued and quickly stopped again, almost like she was analysing what to say, or how to say it. I felt her eyes drifting to the man standing a few feet ahead, leaning to the railing on the other side of the terrace and accompanied by a blonde who was still laughing too much at his words and I quickly understood where the conversation was leading. “Look what the distance did to you and Carlos.”

“Carlos and I were never married. Not even— Don’t go there.”

“Nevertheless,” she kept going, “I have two kids at home and Fabrizio wants to move to Italy. We’re talking about it, but it seems wise to move. At the same time, I see what all of this did to you two and you were not even married,” she rebated my point with the same argument. “It’s hard enough when he travels two weekends in the same month. How am I supposed to deal with having him home for only two weeks a month, if I get those two weeks?”

Fair point.

“We’re married. I’ll miss him, as a husband,” she sighed. “And the babies... you know.”

I blinked, no words left to be spoken. I knew. I didn’t miss Carlos as a husband, nor as a boyfriend, but I’d missed him. In the beginning, those phone calls and facetime sessions made the feeling grow, but the love I felt for him grew at the same rate as the longing. I’d missed him as much as I’d loved him. So I couldn’t picture what the future would be like for Marjorie.

“I don’t know if it helps,” Blanca said, “but our father wasn’t around either. He spent a lot of time away. That didn’t make us love him less.”

Marjorie shrugged. “The only thing I know is that I will never ask him not to go. I know it’s difficult for him too, although it doesn’t look like it.”

A smile tugged the corner of her lips and her eyes travelled across the crowd. My brother was talking and laughing with two guys I recognized from the match the night before. Marjorie looked at him with a warm smile on her lips.

“Trust is important,” I said, “and you both trust and love each other so much it makes me nauseous. You will be fine.”

Trust is important. Trust was everything stopping me from acting, even though my body was ready to betray me and fall into Carlos’ trap. No matter how much I desired Carlos, I couldn’t trust him and that meant we would fall from the tightrope the second I surrendered my body and soul to his arms and warm lips.

“What’s hardest to trust?” Marjorie said, looking at her man, who was now winking at her. She smiled at him, and then turned to me, again. “Him or the people around him?”

She was talking about Rio, and whatever could happen during race weekends, or the eventuality of him moving alone to Italy, but that hit a little close to home.

“Him,” I said. “People won’t do anything he doesn’t let them do. He won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

The blonde, Mila, was touching him. Small pats on his arm to pull his attention back to her, another small pat on his chest while he spoke and she leaned her head back, laughing at whatever he was saying. Another embarrassing show; quite pathetic.

“That’s true,” Ana added. “But you don’t seem like a couple with problems in that regard,” she continued, her hand reaching for the cup filled with white sangria. “Rio is and always was a nice guy, you know it better than us.”

Marjorie was not uncertain about how faithful her husband was; she was scared of the void he would leave behind. The unanswered calls. The postponed encounters. The empty space at dinners and birthday parties. I promised her that I would sleep at hers one or two nights each week to keep her feet warm; she knew I wasn’t joking.

After this conversation reached its natural end, I dragged her to the dance floor. On top of her wearing heels, she complained about not having enough rhythm to dance, or even enough balance. I told her to get another drink, with the excuse that the right amount of alcohol would give her the rhythm she needed. Marjorie found her rhythm and new confidence at the bottom of her fourth drink and I found myself to be less patient than I thought. In need of both resting my feet and taking a break from Marjorie, who was too playful and talkative after those four drinks, I led the group to the couches where the boys were sitting.

Carlos’ blonde had disappeared. Another one had resurged on his side, this time a man—the host.

After almost forcing Marjorie to sit next to Rio and take a break, I went to the bar. One of the two silver foxes serving drinks stopped what he was doing to pay attention to my request. Virgin Mojito, I asked. My insides were asking for more alcohol, especially before my amazing idea of getting my friends drunk, but I knew my limits.

“Quite a character, no?” I didn’t need to look to my right to understand who said these words. I would recognize his voice and accent anywhere.

“You and Marjorie are spending too much time together; she said the same thing.” Carlos put down his tumbler on the counter; the bartender replaced it with another, this one with a thick line of a brownish liquid around a large ice cube. “How many of those did you have?”

“Not enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you care?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t wanna drag you from the car to your bed. Marjorie is giving me enough trouble already.”

“Don’t worry about it, Blanca can take me home,” he deadpanned and then, with two sips, Carlos drank the whole thing. I abstained from making any comment. “Don’t look at me like that. I can get drunk once in a while.”

“Where’s your blonde? Did she leave you hanging and now you’re mad about it?” He scowled at me. “Am I wrong? Sorry, my mistake,” I huffed sarcastically. Carlos didn’t say anything. I was getting more annoyed with each second he ignored me. “Can you please stop ignoring my presence? I’m right here.”

“Where she is, is not of your business.”

I tilted my head. “Are you a grumpy drunk? I was hoping for something different.” Carlos looked around, his hand going to his hair and sorting it out. The wind was messing with his hair, but somehow, he still looked handsome. “Or are you just mad?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Why’s that?” Carlos turned to me, eyes piercing through mine. He bit his lip and then shook his head.

“Go enjoy the party. Our host had a lot of questions about you,” he finally responded. My gaze looked for Uwe, sitting with another group, his rebellious blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. The man didn’t seem to stop in one place for more than two minutes. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to stay a stranger.”

Reverse psychology or what?

“Maybe I will,” I responded offhandedly and took a sip of my drink that I didn’t notice was waiting for me on the counter, drops of condensation staining the coaster of a deeper black. “Enjoy Mia.”

“Mila,” he corrected me, to which I just grinned. He knew I knew her name.

Leaving the bar behind, my feet starting to ache on the heels and my eyes already tired from the strong lights that had replaced the pastel dusky tones of the sunset, I found myself in a dilemma, contemplating what game Carlos was playing.

Marjorie sat on Rio’s lap to give me her place on the couch. She was just another level of clingy when she was drunk and my brother didn’t seem to mind. His hands were around her, holding her close to him. Compared to the other two couples in the group, they were more carefree. The Sainzes were not big fans of PDA.

“I hope that one has alcohol on it,” the enthusiastic and accent-filled voice of our host erupted in our surroundings a few beats later, interrupting a boring conversation about how Rodrigo could improve his golfing skills.

The German driver leaned against the back of the couch in front of me, behind Ana. “Oh, it doesn’t,” I replied. “I’m behaving tonight.”

“Too bad,” the guy winked and Marjorie patted Rio’s shoulder. My brother dragged himself to the end of the couch and moved slightly to the side, creating a little spot for Uwe to sit. He put his beer on the table, next to the fancy glasses filled with drinks of all colours. “Your friend there told me you’re a driver too,” he signalled to Carlos with his head. “In which category?”

“For the last year, I’ve been driving in the Ferrari Challenge. I’m looking at endurance for next year,” his eyes widened and his smile grew a bit more. “I made my debut in WEC last year when a driver got COVID. That was good.”

“That’s interesting,” he said.

Marjorie leaned into me, trying to whisper something to Uwe, but failed and her words came out loud and excited. “She won the championship last week!”

“Ja?! Sainz forgot to mention that,” he looked at me, impressed. Men usually didn’t get this excited when told about my driving skills and just from his reaction, the German scored some points in his favour.

“The first woman to do so!” Marjorie added and I rolled my eyes.

“Marjorie—” I stopped her, but the guy interrupted me.

“What? If the fruit won’t sell itself…” Marjorie said in her defence and the guy nodded in agreement. “Take her dancing, Uwe. She needs some fun.”

I was surprised by her tenacity in ensuring I have some fun tonight. The tall blonde German took my hand and walked in front of me, gently dragging me to the dance floor. My eyes dropped to the floor to be sure my heels would not fail me. When I looked back up to find him, I noticed the height difference. Too German, indeed.

As soon as we approached the small crowd around the DJ, he pulled me close by my waist. His grip was firm and confident and his posture changed the second his fingers found my skin, as if he enjoyed my delicate size and weight. The crowd surrounded us when he stopped, the bodies of the guest shielding us from the eyes of those scattered around the terrace. His hand drifted to my bare back. He felt warm and gentle.

“I hope you enjoy the music,” he whispered as I drowned in his cologne when he leaned against me, so close to my ear I could feel the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin. He smelled of pine and bay – fresh, crisp and masculine. “I’m hoping for some reggaeton.”

I laughed and he grinned back at me. “It’s a better fit for dancing, that’s for sure.” The rhythm of the current music was not bad, but not suited for the contact I knew he was hoping for. He hadn’t let go of me. His warm touch on my lower back kept reminding me of Marjorie’s words. “I hope you get lucky.”

He chucked. “That’s up to you.”

“Don’t step out of line,” I got on my tip-toes and, on the way to his ear, I could feel his breath against my cheek.

The music carried us away, not reggaeton yet, but it had just the pace we needed to dance and explore each other a bit more.

I didn’t feel anything whenever his lips got closer to my skin, not even in anticipation to feel them end all the need for touch and attention. Thinking about it, I didn’t even remember the last time I got laid and that was worrying, to say the least. Even though Uwe was there, making sure I knew he was available, he was not Carlos; in fact, he was Carlos’ polar opposite. Attractive, nonetheless. Blonde, tall, strong. Nice accent. Nice hands. Long, warm fingers. I could go on, I could make a list of this man’s wonders and I knew he would not make me feel half as good as Sainz could.

He bit my earlobe. Hands conducting my waist. I moved a few inches away, the corner of my lips curling into a smile. He tightened the grip around my waist, both his hands holding me close.

“Behave,” I said playfully.

“You can walk away if you want to,” he let go of me and I shook my head in disapproval. His hands met my waist again. The music changed and I chuckled at the familiar sound and so did the crowd, as they quickly started singing. “Dance with me, DiMaggio,” he commanded.

We danced, slowly and easily. I didn’t even know where we were standing, as the music and his touch clouded my mind with nothing but this moment. His fingers kissed my skin in an adoring way, the lyrics to the songs escaping his lips with a funny accent he tried to fight. It made me laugh and correct him on his Spanish more than once.

He turned me around, my back to his chest, his hands on my waist, his touch warm, firm and strong, pushing me to him. The shirt was so thin that his body heat seeped through the fabric and reached the exposed skin of my back. I could feel his strong hands everywhere as we danced some more until the set ended. As the music changed to a more upbeat one, I turned back to him.

During the movement I caught a glimpse of him, alone. A beer in his hand and nothing but the dark sky around him.

“Another drink?” The German’s voice snapped me back to the moment.

My eyes seemed too hard to move, I was stuck there, on him. But then a slimmer silhouette appeared at his side, with blonde hair and a big smile.

I smiled. “No, thanks. I told you. I’m behaving.”

“Hope that’s only regarding the alcohol,” he murmured and he licked his lips.

“Let’s see,” I said as my eyes dropped to his lips and then to the medallion hidden under the fabric of his shirt. “What does it say?”

He noticed what my gaze has fallen upon and he followed it by dropping his forehead closer to mine. “Das Blaue vom Himmel versprechen,” he answered. I turned it around with the help of my fingers.

“The blue of the sky?” I asked, not letting go of the amulet.

“Promise the blue of the sky. It’s a saying. There’s a certain ring to it.” I nodded at the explanation and out of nowhere, his lips crashed against mine.

Harsh and wet. Brutal and aggressive. Ocean and tequila.

Tasted so wrong. So wrong.

Wrong in way too many ways.

The moment awakened the memories of an Italian guy left alone in a bathroom stall and the reasons that had made me leave. He was not Carlos. They were not Carlos. Carlos. My eyes drifted to him, his eyes piercing through the crowd to find mine. Even with his friend’s lips on the skin of my neck and his arms firmly grabbing my ass, I couldn’t find the strength to break the eye contact.

It felt like an out-of-body experience. I could feel every cell of my body reject the man touching me, yet I was locked in a man standing not too far away, not moving, but getting more distant each second.

My look, a shout for help.

His made me burn. No emotion, just a blank expression.

Surprisingly, Uwe didn’t seem to be bothered by the glances Sainz cast in our direction; in fact, I wasn’t even sure if he was aware of them. His attention was focused on me. His hands, his lips, his eyes. Unfortunately for him, I couldn’t reciprocate the devotion.

Every time his eyes dropped to another part of me other than my face, my eyes would go back to the Spaniard on the other side of the crowd, leaning against the fence of the terrace. Alone. He’s alone.

The cast of Carlos' gaze was making me dizzy. Even worse, making me feel guilty. Guilty. His eyes were half-lidded, his hair mussed and his clothes dishevelled. He looked drunk. He was drunk.

And he started walking towards us.

“Eva,” his voice resonated, hoarse and deep as always. The only difference was that his lips were barely moving. “I would like to go home.”

“Already? But we’re all having so much fun, ‘migo,” the German exclaimed. Carlos was unfazed. Uwe’s words seemed to enter one ear and escape from the other, as Carlos didn’t even look at him. I was unsure if he had even listened to his friend.  His gaze was focused on me.

“Eva.”

“Don’t worry, pal, I can take her home,” Uwe offered, his hand falling on Carlos’ shoulder. The Spaniard moved just enough to make the blonde retract his hand.

“Eva, I need you to take me home,” Carlos insisted. I sent an apologetic look to Uwe, whose confused eyes drifted from me to Carlos, repeatedly. I looked over the crowd, my eyes trying to find Blanca. He grabbed my hand. “Take me home.”

For fuck’s sake.

The man was drunk and acting like a fool and yet my body reacted to that gesture, electricity sparkling from the point of contact. I looked at him, directly into his eyes. They were dark, the black of his eyes dripping into the hazel iris. He tensed his jaw.

I turned back to Uwe. My hand on Carlos’. The German nodded at my words and took a step back to let me through the crowd.

“Not what I expected when told you to enjoy the party.”

“Sorry?”

“This,” he motioned to Uwe. I dropped his hand.

“You think I was?”

“Looked like it.”

A frown instantly took over my face, confusion growing inside. I walked to my brother, who was probably as drunk as Carlos, and his girlfriend, who was leaning against the handrail. Rio’s eyes followed Carlos and not me. His lips curled into a smile watching him trying to reach me.

“Land him a hand, ‘Vita. He’s fucked up.”

Of course, I didn’t. My steps led me to Marjorie and I stood next to her, waiting for Carlos to slowly make his way through the crowd. I dared to look down, at the foam the waves created when they kissed the cliff and followed the trails of white foam. The music made it impossible to hear the claps of the waves.

“You’re so wasted, bro!” Rio hailed Carlos when he finished his unstable walk and finally reached us. “Where’s blondie?”

“You should worry about your wife,” Carlos responded and my eyes drifted to Marjorie, frowning at the Spaniard’s comment.

Rio and Marjorie walked in front of us. He was holding her by the waist, saying things in her ear I was sure I didn’t want to listen to. I didn’t try to match my pace to Carlos’, but he made an effort to catch mine. We had to wait for him in the car.

                                                        * 

“Could you please stop?”

Carlos had opened and closed his window three times in the last ten minutes. “It’s hot,” was the excuse he gave when he lowered the glass for the first time. And for why he had closed it a short moment after, he only offered a measly “It’s messing my hair”. After those first times, he repeated the words two times, each time after the annoying noise of the mechanism.

“I’m hot,” he said for the fourth time, the glass going down and the cold night air filling the car. I could feel my skin being taken by goosebumps as the cold air touched my skin.

“I’ll leave you on the side of the road if you close it one more time,” I threatened him.

Marjorie and Rio had fallen asleep five minutes into the drive home and Carlos had sat in silence next to me, watching me drive. My ear drums were still suffering from the loud music of the party, so I was quite enjoying the silence.

“Oh, please don’t,” he said, his voice mildly sarcastic and his eyes avoiding mine. I could see his pupils dilate as he looked at me.

“Just shut up, please,” my eyes didn’t leave the road, which was only lit by the headlights and the street lamps, except to look up at the dark velvety stripes painted in the night sky. “You don’t even look like yourself when you’re drunk,” I mumbled.

“You’re sober and I can say the same.”

“Why?”

“You kissed.” There was a slight pause but I refused to look at the man whose arm, resting on the console, almost touched mine. “You didn’t let me kiss you.”

You didn’t let me kiss you.

I blinked, trying to understand if the words were real and not a fabrication of my tired mind. Does he think I wanted that kiss? I kept my eyes on the road, my grip firm on the steering wheel. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“D’you like it?” he continued, “Him? The kiss?”

“You’re drunk. We will talk tomorrow,” was all I said. This was not the time or place to talk about anything remotely related to all the feelings and emotions I wanted to repress.

“I’m not that drunk, Eva,” he sighed. A long breath escaped me, not knowing exactly what to do or say to amend the situation.

Again, the imabalance. If on one side I was pissed at him for dragging me out of the party like he owned me and had some kind of sick power over me, I was also thankful to know he still cared. Also, not only he cared but he was jealous of Uwe.

Is this insanity taking over?

You didn’t let me kiss you. Another man's kiss would never make me descend into a weeks-long spiral. I wanted to tell him that. I wanted him to know that I’d been craving him, desiring him, dreaming about him each night since our dinner weeks before.

“You flee my touch. You act like I’m a pervert,” he kept going.

What? I glanced at him from under my lashes, trying to gauge his expression. His stubble framed his face, giving him a vulnerable look that made my heart dance in my chest. The wind was making his hair messier; the untamed dark strands made him look even more vulnerable, yet his words cut deeper than ever. How could he look so fragile and yet sting me out like this?

“I don’t—”

“You do. And now that guy? That guy? D’you really think I don’t notice how you step away from me every time I touch you? Every fucking time, Eva.”

“It’s not like that.” Carlos looked over the window. I peeked in the rearview mirror, hoping I would find Marjorie and Rio still sleeping. They were. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No.” Just no.

But he didn’t speak. For a couple of minutes, silence reigned in the car and a battle happened inside me. So many thoughts and guilt. Resentment and desire in the same measure.

“Tell me what’s it like then.”

“I don’t want to,” I sounded like my two-year-old nieces, for fuck’s sake. I turned into the gate of the residential area.

In the five minutes it took me to drive from the entrance to the residence, Marjorie and Rio woke up and complained two times about how cold the car was. Two times each. I didn’t say a word until I parked the car in the driveway, leaving enough space for Blanca’s.

“You should use the garage,” Carlos complained, dragging himself out of the car. His hand over his abdomen and a funny expression on his face.

“And you should drink less.”

Before I could reach the house, whose door my brother had opened, I heard his room’s door close. They were in a rush. Behind me, Carlos walked slowly. Not that drunk, he said. The man could barely walk in a straight line or have his eyes completely open.

I stood by the door, on the inside of the house and waited for him to go past me so I could lock the door. As he did, he turned to me. One of his hands travelled to the cold skin of my waist, the other to my face, his index finger caressing my cheek.

Warmth and delicacy. He could barely stand straight but his touch was delicate and soft against my skin. Seconds of pure bliss. I felt a silent sigh leaving me and, without realizing it, I took a step back. Like a marionette cut from its strings, my back hit the door frame.

I immediately condemned my body for doing so. He shook his head. “See?”

He left me standing there, my blood rushing inside my veins. The sad look in his eyes and the memory of this touch remained in my mind until I saw his body disappear being a wall. Then I placed my hand on the place he’d touched me, trying to bring back the comfort of his touch. I could feel the leftover warmth on my skin.

I didn’t move until I heard his steps reach the top of the stairs, making sure he would make it upstairs safe. When the sound stopped, probably indicating he had reached his bedroom, I turned away. I walked to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle and a large bowl and then I made my way upstairs.

Upstairs was dark and silent. Rio and Marjorie’s door was closed and even though Carlos had left his open, I couldn’t hear anything. Before walking to his room to check if he was okay and to leave the water and the bowl next to his bed, I left my heels and wallet in my room.

I knocked. Didn’t hear anything. The door was ajar and the silence hurt my ears, still buzzing from the loud music at the party. I peeked inside; an orange hue was talking over the room, coming from the lamps on the bedside tables. Carlos was nowhere to be seen.

When I was about to call his name, I saw a stream of light coming from the bathroom, casting a white line on the dark rug in front of the door, but the silence continued.

I left the bottle and the bowl on the nightstand, where his phone was charging and his wallet was left open, and then turned around to the door from where the light was coming. I couldn’t see much more than the image of his back through the small gap. Although I felt like I was invading his privacy, as I actually was, I let myself enjoy that moment of intimacy.

He was still wearing his jeans. And socks. Green socks.

I would have killed to see him like this.

I heard the splash of the water hitting the porcelain of the sink. My image was reflected in the mirror when he bent down to wash his face and even though I tried to escape his gaze, his reflexes were faster than mine. He turned to me.

“I left water and a bowl on your bedside table,” I said. “Just in case.”

Carlos used a towel to dry his hands and face and walked past me, turning off the bathroom light on his way. Darkness fell into the room, the glow from the lights too low to light up the whole space. He became nothing but shades.

“I’m not a child,” I heard him undo the zipper of his jeans and take them off under the orangy glow. I drifted my gaze to the well-lit water bottle and, made myself read the label, fighting the urge to look at him. “You can go now.”

“You have no right to be mad at me.”

“Now you want to talk,” he deadpanned. The ruffle of the comforter and then a muted thud, his body meeting the bed. “I want to sleep.”

“Have some water first,” mentally, I complimented the choice of low brightness on the lamps. I really didn’t want to see his reaction to my words – his grunt was enough to know he was annoyed. I grabbed the bottle and extended my arm towards him.

He turned to me and the light reached his face faster than my eyes did. The beams outlined his features: the nose,  the lips, the full eyelashes and gave a new sparkle to his eyes. Under the warm tones, he looked peaceful and somewhat delicate, and that wasn’t a word I would naturally use for him.

“I’m not a child,” he repeated his words from before and didn’t take the bottle from my hands.

“Yet you’re behaving like one.”

“Go to bed, Eva.”

“I don’t want you to choke to death on your own vomit.”

His eyes widened, a snort coming from his mouth before his words. “I won’t.”

“You can’t be sure,” I replied and I moved the bottle in front of his face. “Just a sip.”

“Eva,” a sigh and then my hand got lighter. He took the bottle from my hand and I took a step back. It didn’t take long until I heard a satisfied sigh.

“Try to not die,” and with these parting words, I walked away from the bed.

“Eva,” he called my name again and each time he was taking more time with it. Perhaps he was tired, or the alcohol was slowing him down, but my name sounded like music.

The accent. The v on his lips sounded like a b. Soft and tender.

And just like that, I couldn’t resist turning back to look at him. He was a striking silhouette under that stupid orange dim light; shirtless, his head against the headboard and his hair falling on his forehead and at that moment, I understood it was too late to fight the feelings.

“Can we talk tomorrow? You need sleep.”

“When?”

I shrugged. “Any time will do.”

“Eva,” he had his eyes almost closed, his face down on the pillow; my name sounded like a siren call. I wanted to dive in and meet him in bed. “Don’t see him again.”

His soft whisper cut through the silence like thunder.

I got close, just so I could turn off the lights and let him rest, but as I did so, my eyes caught the sight of his tired face. The line of his perfect lashes, the hair ruffled against the pillow, the light kissing his face, making him even more beautiful.

My fingers lingered over the light switch, postponing the gesture that would make him disappear in the dark. I stood next to him for a couple of minutes, staring adoringly at his face and appreciating the tranquillity of his sleep. It didn’t feel wrong, not even for a second.

He had ruined me the moment he brushed his lips against mine and reopened the door where all the what-ifs were stored and left to be forgotten. He set them free and they twirled around me, poking me with all the scenarios I’d made so much effort to forget.

But perhaps I shouldn't forget them. Perhaps I belonged here, at his side, not afraid to look at him and adore his face. Without the weight of the world and its expectations, I could just be here, tracing the lines between the light and the shadows with my eyes, be free to admit I wanted to kiss him right where the light touched him. How much I envied that orange dim light that staked a claim on him before I could.

With a click, all of it vanished into the dark.

I don't even know what to say. First of all, THANK YOU for reading and leaving messages and comments. I can't tell you how much I value every single word you write me. also: virtually hugging all of you sainz girlies. it was tough, today. still hurts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think. See you around, Bru 🩷

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Mechanic chapter 15 teaser under the cut!

warning: 18+!

Sihtric groaned lightly, clearly wanting the same, and he then helped you take off your helmet before taking off his own. He turned to hang the helmets on the handlebars of his bike and, as he turned back, cupped your cheeks to pull you in for a kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turned hot and heavy as your tongues swirled and breaths were being stolen. Sihtric continued to kiss you while you fumbled with your gloves, then threw them on the garage floor once you finally freed yourself of them. You moved your hands up into his dark curls immediately, lightly tugging his hair to keep the kiss as deep as possible.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed in between sloppy kisses and he grabbed your hips, 'baby…'

'I want you,' you whined with a desperate sigh against his lips, 'please.'

'Yeah?' he chuckled softly, then kissed you again, 'you want me, princess?'

'Mhm,' you hummed, to which Sihtric picked you up in his arms and seated you sideways on his bike, 'I want you right now,' you breathed heavily and wrapped your legs around his waist.

'Right now?' Sihtric smiled slyly, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, 'here?'

'Right here,' you smirked and slid your hands underneath his hoodie while you brought your lips to his neck, 'it's been too long, Siht.'

'I know,' he agreed, one hand on your waist and the other in your hair as he threw his head back at the feeling of your mouth on his sensitive skin, and he inhaled sharply, 'hm, far too long.'

'Need you,' you murmured, then looked at him and flicked your tongue against his lips, 'I need you inside me so badly,' you mewled and rubbed his hardened length through his jeans, 'please, babe.'

Sihtric smiled and cupped your cheeks, 'So cute,' his lips touching yours as he spoke and his tongue licking your lips between every few words, 'so pretty… when you beg for my cock.'

You moaned into his mouth and tugged firmly at his leather belt, 'Forget this bike,' you rasped, 'I wanna ride you, baby.'

Sihtric chuckled darkly and bucked his hips against yours, making you moan at the slight friction you felt as his erection just barely touched your core through your motor trousers, and he captured your lips into a passionate kiss once more.

'Tonight,' he husked, 'I promise you get to ride me tonight, if you're a good girl of course.'

'I'm always a good girl,' you smiled and teasingly sucked his lower lip, then pecked his lips a few more times before you were both startled when someone suddenly started their car not too far away from you.

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