On the Road: Day One
"'Cording to the map," Ava mused from the passenger seat, her pink hair all but buried in the huge driving map, "we gots " her voice drifted off as she did the math. "'Bout five days drivin'. Mebbe six. Sumthin' like dat."
Zan looked over at her in disbelief. Five or six days?
In the backseat, Rath murmured to Lonnie, no doubt trying to be romantic. "Hear dat, babe? Five nights o' me all ter yerself what're ya' gonna do wit me?"
She grinned at him. Rath could be an idiot, and she didn't have any illusions about his - or her own - inclinations to stray, but he was a good fuck. So she ignored what she could see of Zan's smirk in the rearview mirror and hitched up her shirt. Rath immediately latched on to one breast with his mouth and the other with his hand, pushing her down so that he could prop himself over her for more comfortable access.
Automatically Zan's thoughts began to drift, and for him the couple in the back seat simply ceased to exist for a while. He just concentrated on the road and on what might be waiting for them in New Mexico.
Ava was still studying the map, her small finger following the highways, leaving a bright line behind to show their route. When she was done, she looked over and saw that Zan was brooding about something and horny, if the tension in his lap was anything to go by. Then again, he'd been kind of quiet all day. Something about this chick in the dream, she guessed.
"Ya' need a lil' relief there, Zan?" She wasn't being coy. They fucked sometimes, and personally she preferred him to Rath or some of the losers she picked up from time to time, but there was no real bond between them. He was better company than either of the others, though, so she tried to be considerate of his needs.
He seemed to think about it and then nodded. In the back seat, Rath was starting to breath heavily and Lonnie said something that made no sense. Idly Ava wondered if they'd gotten any further than suck and grab, and how that worked in a car, but she wasn't curious enough to look.
She scooted over as far as she could get in her seat and waved her hand over Zan's lap, freeing his cock. She began working her hand up and down it, squeezing slightly on each upstroke. Zan lifted his right arm to drape over her, going right for her tit. She smiled at the sensation and changed her mind about the handjob. Instead, she used her hand to steady his cock as she lowered her head to suck and lick around the tip. She was rewarded when his hand migrated down her body to slip under her skirt and between her legs.
It took her a little longer than usual to get him off, but it was worth it. Zan was a man who knew what to do with his hand, and he didn't stint.
His eyes never left the road, though. And the car never wavered out of their lane.
That night, Zan didn't need Lonnie to dreamwalk him in. While Ava was watching West Wing and the others were getting frisky again in the motel room's second bed, he settled into a chair on the balcony and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax.
In no time he was standing behind her, but she wasn't in her bedroom this time. She was in some kind of restaurant, counting money or something, and wearing some stupid looking uniform that - on second glance - wasn't too bad. It was short, after all, and those snaps looked pretty handy. He took a moment to look around at the alien décor, too, but it wasn't nearly as interesting.
He ignored it all to walk up behind her, grabbing the ends of her silly-looking silver alien apron and tugging at them until it came off.
She turned and gasped at the sight of him. Like before, she seemed fascinated by his piercings and the hair on his chin, and he let her play with them for a bit before just grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her up on the counter, stepping forward so he was standing between her knees.
"Who are ya'?" he asked, as his hands slid down the collar of her uniform and proceeded to pull apart the snaps one by one until he could see both demurely restrained breasts.
She looked confused. "What do you mean, Max?"
"What's yer name?" he asked, leaning in but not touching.
She pushed out her chest a little in anticipation, and frowned when his hands stopped short. "Is this some kind of game?"
He nodded. "Sure. It's a game. Make like I wanna get to know ya' all over again," he improvised. Obviously she seemed to think she knew him, so he'd just play on that. "Call me Zan."
She smiled in understanding. "Oh! Okay. Hi Zan. I'm Liz, Liz Parker," she said politely, holding out her hand for him to shake.
That was the name on the envelope the night before. So he did have the right address. Excellent.
"Hey, Liz. Nice ta meetcha." Rather pleased with himself, he took the hand she offered. But instead of shaking it he turned it over and kissed her wrist, just over the pulse point. He pressed his lips to her skin slowly, never taking his eyes off of hers, just like he saw in a movie once.
She sighed, and he smiled.
Pulling away, he caught sight of a menu out of the corner of his eye, and improvised again. "So, Liz, it's my first time here. Whattaya rec'mend?"
Her eyes widened and she winked, as if saying 'gotcha'. "Well then, welcome to the CrashDown, sir. Do you need a menu, or do you know how may I be of of service this evening?"
He grinned, liking the way she ducked her head and looked up at him with big eyes, as if she was a little embarrassed to have said it but willing to play along.
"I'd hafta check the menu," he said, pulling her a little closer. "I dunno whatcha got."
"Try some samples, maybe," she offered, immediately biting her lip to hold back giggles.
In response he pushed her bra aside and nipped at first one and then her other nipple. Then he pulled back, head tilted to one side as if he were considering his options.
"Well?" she asked breathily, eyes bright.
"I'll take ever'thin' ya' got," he told her, burying his head against the side of her neck. Her giggles became moans as his mouth did incredible things down her neck and then lower.
Without lifting his head, Zan grabbed her ass and pulled her closer to him, so close he could wrap his arms around her. But instead he pulled the sides of her uniform down, trapping her arms against her body and making her squirm. He grinned and nuzzled a day's worth of stubble against her before looking up.
She swayed slightly, eyes hooded, and didn't protest.
He lowered the uniform the rest of the way to free her arms, and lowered her backwards until she was spread out on the counter, her head hanging off the other side and her achingly pert breasts jutted into the air. He didn't miss the invitation, and worked them over thoroughly, memorizing their taste and feel.
Then her hips jammed tightly against his and he decided to have a little fun with her. Slowly he kissed his way down her flat stomach, undoing more snaps as he did. Finally the uniform fell completely open and he blinked at the sight of dainty pale blue panties, dotted with tiny white flowers.
He stared, mildly stupefied. Blue? Flowers? Chicks actually wore these? The girls he'd knew always wore black or red or something equally well, not cute. If they wore underwear at all, that was.
"Zan?" He almost missed it when she called his name, but his ears caught her low moan, and he realised that her hips were rolling, pressing her thighs up against his hands with some urgency.
He started to hook his fingers around her panties to pull them down, but they kind of turned him on so he just reached between her legs and pulled the thin, flatteringly wet material to one side instead.
Mindful of her precarious position, he began working one hand against her, eventually slipping one then two and three fingers inside her, marvelling the entire time at the trust she showed. If he stepped backwards, if he let go of her, she would probably fall off the other side of the counter. She was dreaming, sure, but she'd forget that and it would hurt.
He quickly decided that he didn't want that, not at this point, anyway. So instead of letting go of her to taste her properly, he concentrated and then his pants were open, not enough to fall down but enough to release his cock fully.
She gasped at the feel of his smooth cockhead sliding against her, but she didn't lift her head, just reached out her arms to either side to grasp the counter, to brace herself. And she wasn't disappointed; in seconds he had pushed against and then inside of her, and she rolled her hips again, trying to increase the friction between them.
Without letting go of her waist, Zan thrust into her. Not too hard, but fully. She was tight and welcoming, and he hissed as he thrust fast and then dragged slowly out of her, again and again, until he felt her hand find his and squeeze.
"Faster, Zan," she panted, and he watched the way her throat moved with some fascination. "Please, faster."
He obeyed, throwing his hips against her inner thighs, shifting her slightly for better access, to push as far into her as he could, over and over.
Suddenly she stilled beneath him, and he would have worried except that he felt her tighten around him (painfully, blissfully tight) and then relax.
He continued to grind into her, knowing he was close. He bent down and sucked one hard nipple into his mouth, pulling it hard against the roof of his mouth and then soothing it with his tongue. Her hands came up and grabbed his hair by the roots, her back arching higher, eliminating as much space between them as possible.
Through the sound of rushing blood in his ears, he heard her gasp his name one more time, and that was it. He spasmed against her and inside of her, collapsing on top of her, anchoring her beneath him, claiming her bodily.
As the shudders subsided, he rested his face between her breasts and concentrated on just breathing. Languidly, her hands left his hair and travelled down his neck, stroking him lightly, massaging his shoulders.
Slowly he slid her towards him and then up, one hand under her neck to support her head as he lifted her upwards.
Her face was flushed and her bottom lip puffy where she'd bitten it.
Groaning, he pulled her to him, drawing her into his embrace, just relishing the feel of her sated body against his -
... and wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.
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