Animals

The Impala is stifling hot inside despite the fact that the windows are rolled as you cruise down the back highway in nowhere Ohio. It’s July and the country air raking through your hair almost feels cool. The radio’s somewhere between playing static and the last half of a Led Zepplin song. “Whole Lotta Love” blares for a moment through the speakers and you realize that you have no real idea where in Ohio you are; not that it really matters.

It’s been at least three weeks since the last job that presented anything akin to a challenge, and week since the last job. The werewolf back in Kentucky had been easier than previous werewolf hunts, but werewolves in general aren’t easy targets. Moon cycles being against you are only a part of the challenge. The fact that the wolf was human most of the time was the other part. But between the two of you, the hunt goes without much of a hitch.

The ghost back in Illinois was the last one- simple haunting. Only took him half a day of research to figure out who it was and where to find the body or what was left of it. You were slightly disappointed that it didn’t show up as the two of you dug up the grave at the far end of the cemetery, broke through the casket, salted the decomposing body and anointed it with lighter fluid. That’s it? you think in disappointment, dropping two lit matches into the grave.

The static crackles again over the speakers and you reach quickly for the volume knob, shaking off your reverie of thoughts. A hand, warm and sure, grabs your wrist halting your reach. Your eyes dart quickly from the road to where he holds your wrist in an oddly tight, loose grip to his face. A light smile plays on his lips and an odd light is shining in his eyes.

Without a word he lets your wrist go, and turns the tuning knob until he finds a clear signal; just your, and his, luck it’s a classic rock station. He shifts on the leather seat and moves closer to you.

Your heart speeds up in beat, skips a beat or two and stops in your chest all at the same time as his breath comes in slow, warm pants across your neck. But it’s his hand, warm and sure, against the fly of your jeans that hitches your breath. The moan that escapes your lips brings a smile to his as they’re pressed hard and hot to the skin just behind and below your ear.

He licks a line, hot and hard, down your neck to the top of your collar bone- ending with a hard nip at the top of the bone. You moan again. You want to arch into the touch, but it’s all you can do to keep the car on the road and up to legal speed. And from the way his hand is palming and pressing against your hardening length through your jeans, you know he knows.

You want to tell him to stop, but bite your lip instead as his hand slips up under your shirt to tease a nipple. His mouth is working again; leaving heated trails from where he nipped at your collar bone back up to the back of your jaw. He bites the flesh of your earlobe a little harder than he bit into your collar bone and you almost let a whimper out- instead you grip the steering wheel tighter and will your mind to concentrate on the road. But then his hand presses harder into your, now raging, hard on and it’s all you have to keep the Impala from becoming one with the ditch along the side of the road.

He smiles again. His thin fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of your jeans. You bite back a whimpered sigh as your erection is finally not pushing so hard against the fabric of your boxers and jeans. But then his sure fingers wrap hard around the shaft and slowly make their way to the head of your member. It’s shuttered, but you let the breath you’d been holding out.

Suddenly the firm hold and heat of his hands is gone and you shutter from the loss. You want to protest his sudden absence. You chance a glance from the road and the intense concentration you’re holding to keep the car from going to the shoulder to see what he’s up to, just in time to see him shift on the seat.

“Watch the road,” he mummers, taking the head of your erection into his mouth. This time you do let out a whimpered sigh. The wet heat of his mouth is not what you had in mind when you thought about getting some action, but…

His tongue dips hard and hot into the slit on the head and you again tighten your grip on the steering wheel. You can feel his lips curl into a smile against you as a shiver works its way through your body, and his tongue works in slow circles around the tip. You want to shove his mouth down over your hardened member, covering it with all that warm wet heat, but you can’t let go of the wheel where your knuckles have turned white.

As though he’s read your mind he takes you down to the base in his mouth- tongue working in circles and lines the way down. In slow, killing motions he repeats sinking your cock in his mouth. And God you want to thrust up into that heat. Your hips ache with the want to touch the head of your erection against the back of his throat, to speed up the impossibly slow pace he’s set. But you can’t. Not without pulling the car to the side of the road. With his body heavy against your accelerator leg, you couldn’t move if you’d wanted to.

You can feel the saliva and pre-com that’s built up at the corners of his mouth and you can’t wait to see him sit up to lick it away.

His rhythm doesn’t speed up, but doesn’t slow down as he manages to slip a couple fingers in his mouth along side your dick. And God how is that possible…

His calloused fingers press in, tongue trailing just behind, and slide up the main vein- eliciting an almost pained moan from you.

A new ache fills your body as you realize it’s been almost five minutes since he started his mind numbing assault, and you’ve become an interesting mixture of rigid and mush. You want to sink into the seat and relax fills you at the same moment his warm, soaked fingers work out from between his tongue and your cock.

Trailing spit and pre-com his oh so nimble fingers slide from the base your erection to behind your testicles; but not before giving them a playful squeeze. Another moan escapes you, frustrated and pleasure filled.

You gasp hard, biting your lip again as his fingers play hard and soft at your entrance. You swear that your going to get him but good one of these days…soon.

The pressure of the his fingers being pushed into your body from the seat, offering very little leeway for him to work, and the suddenly many potholes in the road feels both good and slightly painful; but you’re not about to complain. He wiggles his fingers…and god that’s dangerous…your vision dips to blurred, white. You want him to do it again, but…god, it’s all you can do to keep your white knuckled hands glued to the steering wheel.

You feel him smile around you again. If you could think beyond this torture he’s doling out to you and keeping the car on the road, you’d begin formulating a way to get even.

He hits that…ah….that spot again as he swallows you down to the root again, sucking harder this time. And you know that if he does that a couple more times…

He rises up and sinks you deep in his mouth, again, tongue working in hard circular lines all the way down. His nimble fingers hit you again in that spot, thanks in part to the large pothole you just ran over. A loud noise escapes your throat as all the tension built up from the wondrous torment of his mouth on you and his fingers in you releases in one glorious burst.

Vision blurry and knuckles hard on the wheel you aren’t sure how you managed to keep the car on the road. But you did.

He pulls up and out of your lap, leaving your lap feeling cold and empty. You glance from the empty country highway to watch as his tongue darts out to lick away the small droplets of seamen and spit sitting at the corners of his mouth. He smiles at you and wipes the seamen from his chin with his shirt sleeve. You hate to look away, but after all you went through to keep the car on the road…

When he doesn’t reach back over and help you back into your jeans, hope stirs within that he might want be planning to do that again.

Fin.