Swooped | ✓

Chapter 42: That Isn't Bird Poo On Your Car

A/N: Sex. Again.

"You know what, instead of a new phone, I think I should just buy you a new car for your birthday," I huffed, the music cutting off for the third time on the drive back to my place after finishing off our dinner. Milo didn't answer, eyes trained on the road, until he suddenly spoke.

"I think I'd like to try it the other way tonight." 

He nudged the brake of his car, stopping right on the line at a red light. I hummed questioningly, fiddling with the fraying auxiliary cord that only worked at a certain angle, mentally cursing that Milo's car didn't have bluetooth.

"Hm? What did you say?" I asked, focused on getting the angle of the cord right, exclaiming in victory when music began playing from the speakers. Finally turning to look at Milo, I was surprised to see him staring at the Toyota logo in the middle of his steering wheel with a concerning amount of focus. "...Milo?"

"I'd like to try it. The other way," Milo reiterated, slightly annoyed that he had to repeat himself, hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

"It?" I asked, blinking. He can't mean...

"I'd like to top you," Milo said, shooting me a quick glare as his phone slipped from my hands, jerking out from the dodgy auxiliary cord and clattering onto the floor of the car, music cutting off and suspending us in silence.

"Well, don't just drop that!" I yelled in retort, Milo rolling his eyes and muttering for me to 'not drop his damn phone then', turning back to the road when the light turned green. Fumbling around for his phone and finding that it had skidded under the seat slightly, I cursed at myself for not thinking this through thoroughly.

I really wanted to bottom for Milo. Really really wanted to. Not that topping him wasn't great, because it was amazing - everything with Milo was amazing - but the mental image of him fucking me from behind while tugging my hair had been a fan favourite in my wank bank. A close runner up was the fantasy of riding him until I passed out. Reaching an orgasm when under time pressure was embarrassingly easy when I fantasised about both.

But, I had just eaten double what Milo had, and if he stuck his massive dick in my tonight we'd probably be in for a shit storm. Figuratively and literally.

"No," I groused, sitting back up and shoving Milo's phone into the cup holder in the centre console, slumping down into Milo's jacket I had borrowed indefinitely. 

"No?" Milo whispered, flinching. 

"No! No, not no, but... Ugh, not that no! I mean, no, this sucks because I really want you to fuck me, preferably in the backseat of your bluetooth-less car, but I literally just ate enough for two people plus a pregnant lady and I'll probably shit the moment you stick your huge dick in! And, oh God, I just drank a large Coke as well. You really don't wanna come near me, I'm like a nuclear bomb, baby," I said loudly, hand gesticulating, emulating an explosion of shit, pointing to the splotches of white and brown actual bird shit on Milo's windshield.

"Really?" Milo asked, apprehensive, but a little relieved that I hadn't said no because I didn't want him to top me, which was a ludicrous idea considering I hadn't been shy about how I thoroughly enjoyed being on the receiving end of anal sex.

"Really to wanting you to top me, or really to the very big chance of me shitting in your back seat?" I asked, Milo shrugging. "Well, yes, really to both."

Milo was silent for a moment longer, chewing his bottom lip before turning into my street. He cruised down until my large estate, punching in the entrance code with practised finesse, before driving in. Milo parked in front of the door to my packed garage, turning off the car and twisting to face me seriously.