Title: Silence is Golden
Summary: A lazy afternoon is spent love-making in an old abandoned truck. AH Peter/Charlotte
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: The Twilight characters and Chevrolet are owned by their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. At least I think it's not. One never quite knows.
Picture prompt used: workinit
Sweetly entangled, the lovers paid no heed to how heavily the old Chevy whinged at being disturbed for an afternoon rendezvous. Sitting on weathered rubber and steel wheels, oxidized leaf-springs pleaded to be left alone while rust fell from the chassis, powdering the ground in tiny ant hills before twirling away on the breeze. Buried in the disintegrated foam, metal coils in the bench seat shrilled, 'leave us be, leave us be', in time with the transgressors' movements. The truck, robbed of its doors, was abandoned in a field of Texas sweet-grass where miles upon miles of barbwire fence rambled on like thorny guitar strings, quartering the land into thousands of cattle-grazing acreage.
"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?" Peter wheezed.
"Shut up and enjoy the ride," Charlotte panted.
Peter's shirt dangled alongside Charlotte's sun-dress on the steering column. His jeans were pushed to the tops of his boots; his belt-buckle beating a staccato rhythm on the bell-housing. Her freckle-kissed skin gleamed in the wash of the summer sun, her breasts swung in a tight arc while she rode him with the enthusiasm of a hummingbird. He watched the purple head and glossed skin of his cock split her feather lips as he urged her faster by guiding her hips with his long fingers.
Heady motes of orgasm swirled in his belly, and he screwed his eyes shut as a last-line defense against coming; really so he couldn't see the fall of her dark hair shining while it brushed his sensitive knuckles.
"Baby, I need you to slow down," Peter begged.
"You want me to slow down?" she asked innocently. Charlotte ground down, mashing pubis to pubis, not rising anymore, but hulaing her hips in small circles. "Better?"
Peter used the incline of the decaying steel floor, praying his boots didn't break through, to drive his shaft up harder. No, this was worse. Now he felt every centimeter of Charlotte's fleecy-soft curves hugging him. His balls began to palpitate with his heartbeat, the under-seam of skin pulled tight into ruffles while pent-up fluid threatened thickly.
"No." He had to push her over first. Yanking lightly on her hair, Charlotte obeyed by leaning back onto the dash to give him access to her clit. He licked his thumb and went to work on the iridescent purling nub. "Come here," he growled.
Charlotte acquiesced by shoving her breasts into his face. Peter swooped and sucked on her right nipple. Hard. Her hands steadied her on his wide shoulders.
He released the rosy flesh to press his lips heavily to hers, his tongue darting right into her mouth. Her hot channel banded him in iron as her clit fluttered and rippled while shock waves gripped her. Triggered by her delicious orgasm, Peter cried out raggedly, curled his hips up and released deep. She bowed with the onslaught, hissing raggedly.
When the world righted itself, he kissed his fey woman without urgency, and the Chevy, now still, settled happily back into its silence.