jim street oneshots

leather [ ❦ ]

When Street had come knocking on your door at a little past midnight, you'd thought it was because he'd tired of hearing your restless tossing and turning through the wall separating your bedrooms - but when he offered you a distraction from your racing thoughts, you hadn't entirely known what to expect.

Somehow, to be speeding down Belmont Shore on the back of his Ducati an hour later wasn't it.

As he slows to a stop at a streetlamp-lit intersection, he gives you a second to adjust your still-clumsy hold on his torso before he tips his visor up and shifts around to satisfiedly take in your wide-eyed expression. "Distracted yet?"

You nod as emphatically as the looseness of his spare helmet will allow, leaning in until your chin is just resting on the shoulder of his worn leather jacket as you speak. "But I don't think we should start heading back yet, y'know- just to be sure."

That proves to be all the encouragement he needs, giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze before he shifts his bike back into gear and takes you off down the boulevard as fast as he dares.