Are you scared?

12. Do I like this?

When we finally arrived at Willys Butte again, I set up a small resting area; this time I made sure I'd bring some beer and a deckchair. I put on my glasses as I glanced up at Francesco. The height difference will never stop irking me, or at least not until I'll have the chance to tower over him for once. Would serve the fucker right.

"So... You know the drill," I said half mockingly, but this time, I didn't plan on letting him ruin another of my cars. Over my dead body will I let that nudist destroy one of my beloved cars.
"You need to turn left to turn right! That simple. Or is it too complicated for Francesco?" I couldn't help the teasing grin that formed on my lips. It was really entertaining watching the Italian seething inside.

"Complicated? Complicated?! Francesco will show McQueen what is complicated! Just let McQueen look in the rearview mirror! Un momento, McQueen flirts with Francesco and the other? He insults Francesco!" I watched Francesco gesticulate frantically, glaring at me as if I killed his cat. It wasn't long before his lamenting was followed by a bunch of Italian insults that I couldn't understand. Fucking bastard, he knows I don't speak pizza, yet he'll just continue doing it.

"I warned you about that, didn't I, sweetcheeks?" I retorted as I opened my beer and took a sip, way too pleased with his irritation to care. I watched the muscles in his jaw flex while his eyes flashed with that animalistic need that I'd seen in them so many times already; it made them look even darker... maybe sexier. 

What?! No, it fucking doesn't! I should call for some shrink to bring my head back on my neck!

"What did you just call Francesco?" I watched his hands clasp in fists when I leaned on the hood of my red Chevrolet - way better car than a Formula 1; I was convinced, and I'd bet my life on it.
"You mean sweetcheeks? Why? It suits you, especially with that sticker with my name that you put on the ass area of your racing uniform," I mused, sipping my beer with a grin that could only be described as cheeky. I watched Francesco's ears turn red before he started yelling more Italian insults at me. I didn't plan on defending myself - just enjoying the show was enough.

"Francesco won't tolerate being called such terms! Francesco wants Lightning to apologize," exclaimed the outraged nudist while pointing his finger at me. "Hmmm, no." I crossed my arms on my chest with a smirk. I was being a cocky little prick, but who could blame me?

What I didn't expect was for Francesco to pin me against the hood of my car, his hands firmly placed on either side of my head. I could only yelp and let go of my beer that pathetically rolled off the hood and spilled on the ground. "What the..." I was silenced by Francesco's lips, and my eyes widened. This was a second kiss that Francesco took from me without really asking, but my body didn't seem to mind at all as it completely relaxed. A soft groan left my lips while I felt Francesco's hand roughly grip my hip. "Lightning will apologize even if I had to put him in his place like the god damned brat that he is," growled lowly the Italian, sending shivers down my spine. My cheeks heated up, and I gulped.

Do I like this? There is no way I like this! Sure, I am a bottom, but am I really into acting like a brat and shit like that?! No fucking way.

Despite my thought processes, my lips curled up, the tingle in them from the sudden kiss still present and ever so dizzying. It was impossible to resist the urge to purr those few simple words: "Try me."

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So.. Hi?First of all, I'd like to apologize for the long wait (if there is anyone still reading). 

Second of all... I will (probably, but don't take my word for it) write more, since I'm procrastinating on something important at the moment, and I'd rather focus on my two idiots instead of the real world. 

Thank you for stickig with me and thank you for reading and keeping this little ff of mine alive.