~DRIVING LESSONS ~
A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2012
~CAR KINK~ORAL SEX~SLIGHT NON-CON~PERSUASIVE!FINLAND~AU~
wow, two fics posted in one night, neither of themwhat the audience has been waiting for. Tsk tsk… I am an authorial disgrace.
I don't own hetalia or the characters. My proof reading is mediocre but I do my best. Please bare with (is that the right 'bare'? wshfaskvjdsbvjk *don't care anymore*
I hated my job.
It was not the sort of thing to write home about, and it was so far from my youthful aspirations that I preferred not to think on it least I cry. To make things all the bit worse: frankly, it was life threatening. Every morning, when I got out of bed and adjusted my tie in the mirror, I looked myself in the eye and wondered if today might be my last.
I wasn't even sure, I reflected as I clipped the cupboard closed and poured my muesli into one of the crisp and shiny bowls that I had gotten myself for Christmas, how I got here. It wasn't like I was un-qualified to pursue a slightly better career in maybe building or trades work, but it wasn't easy finding that kind of work in a city with a fixed amount of contractors already there, and no nest egg to propagate my own business. That, and few people in the city wanted a barn built. Instead I kind of had to settle. Regretfully, in this case, settle meant prepare daily for death.
Twenty two years old, Berwald Oxenstierna, driving instructor.
What a grim life I lived.
I sat at the table, ate my cereal, and after washing the dishes and brushing my teeth, I was out the door with my coat under my arm and my satchel banging my hip. I myself did not have a car, nor an umbrella, which was unfortunate given the weather today. Although it was only the latter half of summer, it was grey and drizzly, the pavement slick and slapping beneath my uncomfortable shoes. It wasn't cold, just wet, and it wasn't normal wetness either, it was that particular sticky wetness that gets into everything. A single drop of it could have drowned a smaller man than I, and I groaned fearfully. Because learner drivers were always, always worse when the road was slippery. It was just the thing, how it is. No exceptions.
When I arrived at work, I was not dripping, but all of my clothes were soaked. My jumper (a pale yellow one, aiming for cheerful but rather tragically missing) was giving off the flurid scent of wet dog, and my underwear was sticking to my ass most unpleasantly.
"Hello Ber," the important looking man behind the reception, chatting to his secretary and wearing a shit munching grin as per ninety-five percent of the time, waved his fan of licence applications at me, and I grunted my greeting as I swept past. I always hated coming in the front, because it meant squeezing through lines of feral applicants who thought I was playing cuts, but the back door was never open on weekdays and so I just had to man up and dive through. At eight thirty, the lines were already threatening to break through the door, but beyond my office was wonderfully small and neat and empty. After a nasty tussle with a fat man holding a vehicle boot form (the DMV didn't even deal with such paperwork, as of March, and he would have been better to go to the government tax office) I managed to break through the throng and latch onto my doorknob. It was with a rush of relief I pulled the door open and slipped in, dropping my satchel by the particularly hideous yucca that sentried my door and collapsing onto my flimsy computer chair. Not that I had a computer.
The list of names and details of my days subjects was sitting smack bang in the middle of my desk, my supervisors irritating little smiley face written on the corner in biro. It wouldn't make any difference to my mood, reading them, but I did so anyway out of habit. I hadn't been taking so many out lately because it was school days, and it was holidays that the influx really became a prominent thing, and so I was both surprised and distressed to see that every one of my slots from nine until two had been booked. I had been hoping to be off by midday, but ohhhhh no. that would have been just too damn fortunate.
Story of my miserable life.
I checked the boys name, a Tino something a rather, and his age. 20. older than the usual licensee. I hoped that meant better.
I doubted it.
Tino was late.
He was a small man, only about level with my breast, and wore jeans and a t-shirt despite the rain and the cold. His flimsy scarf and beret were cute though, the flyaway straws of blonde escaping it fell in round, mauve eyes. His nose was a pert ski-jump, his cheeks flushed and appley. He looked a little plump, but oh he was a pretty thing. Big thighs though… and freckles.
"Hello!" he chirped, waving and pulling his loose trousers up. It was odd, his jeans were wide waisted, to fit over his thighs, but too big to fit on his waist… "Sorry I'm late! It's a bit brisk today, isn't it?" he laughed, and brushed his hair off his face. "I got blindsided by a guy on a bike, and the wetness didn't help."
Not feeling up to this, I grunted, a droplet of water running down the bridge of my nose and tickling its wake, and clicked my pen importantly. The clipboard, and the relevant papers attached to it, had bled everywhere. There was ink on my nice yellow sweater.
"Oh…" he winced when he saw it. "but hey, you know what white wine is great for stains… you just drink a bottle, and you forget you have them!" a cheery, but forced laugh, he faded out awkwardly from it and his smile slid sideways when he saw that I didn't find it funny. Groaning he buried his face in his hands.
"Let's just do this, shall we?"
"Let's." I nodded stiffly, and offered him the keys.
"So what's your name?" he asked me, as we edged around the small, dented DMV trainer car parked around the back of the building. "I'm Tino but I guess you already… oh!" once we were seated in the car, out of the drizzle, he noticed the card hanging from the rear view in place of a classy as all hell pine tree air freshener. The card had my photo ID on it, the quote underneath reading 'Hello! My name is Berwald and I am happy to be your instructor for the day!'.
I use the word 'quote' loosely, because I never said any such thing.
"Oh hey this is cute." He seemed quite taken by it. I paid no attention to him, buckling in my two (that's TWO) seatbelts and adjusting them, so they didn't cut into my shoulder. "So you're Berwald huh? Mind if I call you Be?"
"How about 'Waldy?"
"… Be is fine." I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on my clipboard. This was going to be a long day.
A long, but exciting day.
Tino drove like he had a deathwish. Not just for himself, but the rest of humanity too. It was like… he had been born with an instinct to drive tanks, and anything smaller than that was a joke. He over shot every speed limit, took the stupidest risks ever, and tackled everything in fourth gear. Everything. Even red lights.
"Tino!" after a particularly hair raising experience with a milk tanker, I commanded him to pull into a supermarket carpark. Which was a dumb idea because he couldn't park for the life of him. Shaken, probably looking like a ghost, I undid my seatbelt and shoved open my car door as soon as we had pulled across three empty spaces, wondering if I was going to be sick. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry I'm sorry!" he was worked into a terrific state, on the brink of crying I daresay, his hair messed and his cheeks on fire. "I don't know what I'm doing I was just driving, and then that dickhead just came out of nowhere, and then I was all like 'oh fuck no I don't want to die!' and so I swerved and the truck was like 'scree' and… I guess I panicked." He sagged and looked at me with miserable puppy eyes.
"I am so sorry." He repeated. "I promise, I will do better next time."
He couldn't possibly do worse next time. I shook my head and pointed to the passenger seat.
"You get in please." I instructed. "I will drive you back to the DMV."
"Please geddin the car. Y'r remaining money'll be refunded."
"Go." I pointed again, and he whined, but did so. I could imagine him with ears and a tail, mooching back to the car more dejected than I had seen anyone in my life.
Poor guy. He really was sweet. But sweetness was not going to keep me alive for the next three hours of scheduled driving.
It was another two weeks before I heard or thought of Tino again. When I came in some Thursdays later and checked my desk, there he was, his name all over my schedule again, and I groaned, regretting having not called in sick as I had planned. Please God, give me strength.
He was out the back by the car waiting already, looking very much the same as last week except today he was wearing a pair of neat label shorts, his bare legs curved startlingly beautiful and womanly into vintage style shoes. The long cardigan he had on bore a nametag decorated with ladybird stickers. It said TINO on it in clumsy child's writing. He had given away the hat for a clipped back fringe.
"Hey." He smiled at me sheepishly and I cleared my throat, trying not to stare. Had he been this adorable last time, or was I just imagining it.
"I uh… I've been practicing?"
"Mm." he swayed a little and crossed his arms nervously over his chest. "I still am sorry about last time."
"It's just I was so stressed at the time. I need my licence for work, see, and I was worried that I would loose my job if I couldn't get it…"
"No." he smiled a relieved little smile and dropped his arms. "Thank God."
"Whadya do?" I asked, actually a little curious as I approached the state lesson learning car and handed him the keys. "'sides drive like a kamakazi."
"oh." He laughed. "I'm a kindergarten teacher."
"… Explains the name tag."
"Name tag?" he looked down and saw the badge pinned to his top. A embarrassed 'oh!', he removed it and tucked it into his pocket. "Right, thanks."
"No problem." I took a moment to close my eyes and pray for health and safety. "Come on. Get in. let's drive."
Tino had improved at least a thousand times. So I suppose one could say that now he drove like a blind hippopotamus on cocaine. It was almost relaxing even, and that was worrying. As hair raising as it was he seemed to have some sort of clutch control and understood a few of the basic road rules, such as red means stop and green means go. He even knew how to park, and I must say, by the end of the four hours training he had purchased, I was actually impressed. I gestured for him to pull into a secluded carpark by the local cricket club, cricket being off season and the carpark and clubrooms remaining deserted, and requested him stop the car. He did so and looked to me hopefully as I undid both my seat belts and looked through my assessment papers.
"I c'n tell y' practiced." I told him, and he perked, but before I could give him unfair hope I carried on. "that bein' said, y' still drive worse th'n anyone I've ever met."
His face fell a mile, and I felt instant pity.
"M'sorry, y're going t' have t' practice s'me more. Here, I've written down the things y're doin' wrong, and what y' can do t' fix them. Read 'em, if you have 'nything y' would like me t' explain ask. I'll try t' help y' as best I can."
He sighed and took the papers, offering me a weak sort of smile.
"Okay," he conceded. "Thanks. You know I was so worried at first. You seem like a terrifying sort of a man." He began looking through the nine pages of notes I had made, his head tipping to the side sweetly. "But you haven't said a single harsh thing to me since we met, and you genuinely want to seem to help. Thank you." he pulled a face. "None of my past driving teachers have been anywhere near so tolerant."
I nodded, and his smile widened.
Oh, I could only imagine.
Tino began coming to me once a week from then on, and each time he improved and improved, and relaxed more and more, until it reached the point I actually looked forward to being with him, and only felt the need to secure one of my seatbelts each time we went out for a drive. He was the highlight of my otherwise dismal life, and as the steady season gave way to the unpredictable chasm of winter, I was actually sort of pained to suggest to him that he might be ready to set his licence exam, which he seemed excited about, because as far as I could catch in the twittipated babble of words that spilled from him that meant if he qualified he would be able to drive his kids out for fieldtrips in the spring. His kids at work, I assumed he meant. I nodded, having put the proposition off for a month because I hadn't wanted to say goodbye, and pulled my planner from the dash compartment.
"I c'n make an appointment t' test y' on Monday." I told him, and he 'yay'ed lightly, clapping his hands and giving me the sort of smile that lit up the car cabin. "five pm okay? I have lessons up 'til then."
"Five pm is fine." He told me, batting those lovely, long lashed eyes. "I suppose it's a date."
I counted down the hours to Tino's driving test in the same way a condemned man might countdown his last hours on the mile. Truth was, I sort of felt like I was facing death. After all, Tino had pretty much lit up my life. He was everything I looked forward to in the mornings, the way he laughed and the way he spoke and everything about him was so gentle and adorable. Even his terrible driving had become something precious to me, I had never had someone who could make me feel such extreme horror before, but then I had never had someone who made me feel such soft wiggly feelings before either. He was like driving down a road, and getting green lights at every single intersection. Or at least, that was as best as I could compare it. I didn't have that much of a romantic life experience to compare it to, so I sort of had to improvise.
It was almost too good to be true.
As pathetic as it sounds, by that Monday I had hunted every kindergarten in the city to find him, and indeed had been successful. I had found out that he worked at a place called Harriet Vine Kindergarten, and had been doing so for only six months. I found out that he was single, that he was a fully qualified teacher. All the sort of stuff I probably could have asked him without a problem but, being socially awkward as I am, had neglected to for either shyness or feelings of inadequacy and desperation. I hoped like hell I would have the bravery to ask him on a date after his test tonight, but somehow I sincerely doubted it.
It was getting dark when I met him at the DMV carpark, usually I didn't do tests after dark but I had not anticipated such dense clouds to block out the sunset. It wouldn't matter, Tino would get his license anyway. I trusted in his abilities, the last five lessons had been flawlessly preformed.
"Hey." He greeted me in his typical fashion, and held up a bottle of wine with a bow on it. "I brought this with. Thought that if I passed we could celebrate, and if I didn't we could mourn."
"Y'll pass." I grunted, touched almost to tears by the gesture. "here's the keys. Get in the car."
I clutched my clipboard and its tick sheet close to my stomach and took a deep breath. He nodded.
He looked like an angel, in the lowering daylight.
It was over very quick. I almost couldn't believe it, but Tino ran a red light only ten minutes into the test.
Needless to say, he was devastated.
We drove back to the DMV in silence, him clearly trying not to cry, me feeling the strangest conflict of passions in my stomach. How was it possible to have these feelings over a driving test? It seemed stupid. Really stupid. Even for me, and stupid was pretty damn serious in my world considering my arch nemesis was that hideous yucca plant in my office and the most drama I ever found myself in the midst of was drinking expired milk. Yet I was pretty torn up inside, halfway ecstatic because now Tino would have to come back for ether more lessons or another test, and halfway destroyed for him because I had watched him work so hard, and I understood exactly how much this meant to him.
The bottle of wine in the back seat seemed ridiculous now.
We parked in the dark, and Tino switched he ignition and sighed painfully, letting himself fall forward onto the steering wheel in depression. It was dark in the carpark, and though I wasn't very good at comforting people and though it was hardly professional I sincerely wanted to comfort him, at least a little bit, so I turned on the small light in the roof of the car and dropped a hand onto his shoulder to pat it.
"Y' were doing perfectly until y' went wrong." I told him lamely, and he groaned, lifting his head and gazing at me with pained expression and tired eyes.
"I didn't mean to." He told me, voice heavy with regret. "I don't know what came over me. I just looked up, and for some reason I saw the light as being green. I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologise." I told him gruffly, unable to finish that statement. Although I had wanted to say something along the lines of 'even angels make mistakes.'
I settled for "I know that y're capable."
This was a mistake, because suddenly he sat straight up, and looked at me like he had never seen me before in his life.
"Yes." He said slowly. "you're right. You do."
I raised an eyebrow, not following.
"You know that I am capable. So… why if you know it did I even take the test? I mean, it's not like anyone was around to see it, right?"
I opened my mouth to point out that the sedan he had cut off had been there to see it, but didn't have the time because he held up a hand to silence me, and carried on.
"So say you said that I didn't do it. Say you ticked the box that said… I passed."
My jaw almost unhinged with the amount of shock I felt to hear him say this.
"Oh come on." He protested, grabbing my sleeve and tugging imploringly. "It's just a little fib. You know I can do it, you know I'm a good driver. Who will it hurt?"
"Tino, I can't-"
"Please." I got the feeling that if he could have been down on his knees begging by now he would be. "I'm pleading and begging and desperate. Pleasepleaseplease just write it down…"
"No!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The very idea of such an act was getting me all worked up, my heart racing and my cheeks burning. Only half of it was fear of rebellion. The other half was terror, because I knew if he kept begging like this, he was going to win. It was the first time I ever felt the full extent of the power this stranger had over me. "Tino I can't. I think y' should go-"
"No!" he stopped my hand when I went to reach for the door handle. "No wait! Let me just argue my point."
"There's no point." I tried to pull my hand away. "s'illegal and its wrong, I can't-"
"Berwald listen to me!" he grip was surprisingly strong, and so was his voice. It silenced me, and I stared at him in wide eyes horror as he leaned across me, his hand clasped tightly around mine. My clipboard was in my lap, and it dug into the flesh of my thigh. He was so close that I could smell him. It was maddening.
"I know you think you can't do this, but please, listen to my argument." He stared me straight in the eye, and the sheer personal contact he made with me then was probably more than I have had with anyone in my life. no-one ever looked me directly in the eye like that before. It both scared and thrilled me.
"Are you listening?" he asked, and helpless to resist I nodded. Oh God help me what was I doing?
"Good." He released my hand and dropped his own, which had been holding it, to my lap. "Because I think I have an offer that I know you can't refuse."
With his other hand, the one not in my lap, he unbuckled himself, not taking his eyes off my face and not releasing me from the lilac spell he had me under.
"Don't freak out, okay?"
Well when he was saying that I think it was fair to assume I was going to freak out. But he was clever, clamping the spare hand down on my belt buckle so that if I did freak out, I was strapped down and couldn't escape. His other palm snuck higher on my leg, and I inhaled sharply. His eyes fell to half mast and filled with an unfamiliar glint.
"Just relax, and think about it."
Before I knew what had happened he had leant over me and lifted himself to kiss me on the mouth. Naturally, not expecting this contact, I jerked backwards, but he simply shushed me and pressed forward again, sliding his lips against my own. They were soft, warm, and tasted like honey chapstick.
It was like all my dreams, muddled up into one messed up, unpleasant packaging.
With the kiss his one hand crept across and to the crotch of my jeans. Now I really did freak out, squirming in my seat and trying to push my hips as far away from his hand as I could, but it had no effect and all I ended up doing was earn an impatient 'shh!' and a firm grasp on my crotch. I gasped like a girl, and he smiled against my cheek.
"It's okay." He assured me, kisses easing over my cheeks and on my ear. "I'll be gentle."
He had better be! I was already going to panic desperately for this, I didn't want him to hurt me while he did it!
His hand in between my legs worked my fly down, and when I tried to move my own hands (which had been sitting dumbly beside me in the chair for some reason) to stop him he slapped them sharply, in the way you might reprimand a naughty child. I remembered that he was a kindergarten teacher, and recognised the technique as the kind one used when I was a child, to slap a misbehaving babies arse. One couldn't smack like that in this day and age, but my mother had been generous with her hand and she was easily one of the most wonderful people I had ever known despite it. Some people called the act brutality, I called it upright parenting. Also generally those who called it sick pursued it in the bedroom, so go figure that I certainly could not.
I snapped my hands back to my sides and gripped the carseat tight. It was lucky this place was dark and deserted, I could already see my desperate breath fogging the glass of my passenger window. Things were heating up humiliatingly fast between my legs, and against my will I was already halfway hard when he slipped his fingers into my boxer shorts and curled his finger around my dick.
Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Some one else, another human being, was touching my dick. This had never happened before. Never ever ever, and I had never thought it ever would. Oh god it felt good! Holy shit!
I made a stupid noise and Tino hummed in satisfaction, kissing my ear and then dropping to my neck as he stroked me erect and throbbing. By the time he was running his tongue over my collar, I was feeling the tension of orgasm build up in my pelvis, my head was fell back onto the headrest and mortification had consumed me because I was going to come, in front of someone else for the first time, from maybe five or six light strokes and a few kisses. How utterly fourteen year old boy. I couldn't help it, the inevitable was before me like a fifteen car pile-up and I was hurtling toward it at a million kph. Running every red light on the way.
"Are you okay?" he asked me softly, and I nodded helplessly. My glasses were fogged up, but that didn't mean I couldn't imagine him, leaning out of the drivers seat toward me, cast in strange depth by the yellow cabin lamp. His beautiful eyes would be so sexy and lustful, his lips full and dark. My grip on the seat tightened.
And then without warning his weight against my upper body was gone, and the pressure over my legs grew central, and hot breath tickled the bared crown of my cock as he lowered his head over it and blew teasingly. I gasped, made to pull his head away, but was stopped by a lightning fast cut to my wrist bone courtesy of the hand rubbing the outside of my thigh.
"Don't." he told me, pushing and pulling my foreskin over the head and receiving a tense drip of precum and a whine. "I'm going to make you feel really good, okay?"
I had to wonder if this was all a dream, but the thought was dissolved immediately when he dropped his lips to the very pinnacle and kissed it, sending a sensation comparable to nothing I've ever experienced all the way to the tips of my every finger and toe. His hand stroked softly and he moved away, securing his mouth to the base and administering a soft suck which throbbed in the ignored upper portion, and an index finger traced the back of it to the point, where precum was leaking desperately forth. It was cruel and wonderful at the same time, and I had to grit my teeth and screw my eyes tight, behind useless glasses. I felt my breath catch, and realised I was beginning to pant.
"Oh god…" when he sheathed me in his mouth I couldn't help the words that spilled first. "Oh m' god Tino."
He 'mhmm'ed, which for the record felt great, and I tipped my head forward to watch the obscure shape of him go down on me, his blonde hair falling prettily against my stomach. As he drew off I felt myself twitch, and curled my toes in my shoes to stave my release off, because as soon as I came this would be over and I had no idea if I would ever be this lucky again. His tongue flicked teasingly at my fraenulum.
"Okay?" he asked as he jerked my base lightly. "Your cock tastes delicious, by the way."
"What?" I managed, but he just chuckled and went back to work sucking me off, bringing me to the cusp with steady sucks, his hand working the parts he couldn't take into his mouth. More than once I felt the end of my length rub against his cheek or the back of his throat, and each time he bobbed his head he managed a little bit more. Finally he had the whole thing sliding in and out of his mouth, and though I couldn't see it from behind closed eyes, I could feel it, and the effects it had all up my back and in every inch of my body from there. When I moved to stroke my hands through his hair he must have known I wasn't about to try and move him because he allowed it, waiting for me to find a comfortable grip on him before resuming the agonisingly slow twist of his mouth as he pulled up, and then down again, burying his nose in the fine curls of my pubic hair. It was a challenge not to ejaculate there, and unable to control my voice I had began making all sorts of horrible moans and whimpers. It was lucky then that he understood gibberish, because he finally pulled off and stroked me to completion with steady, firm pulls.
My orgasm rocked me so much I thought I felt the car shake, and with it came a cry I preferred to think I had never made, but after what seemed like an age it was over, and I managed to remove my fingers from his scalp and shakingly remove my glasses. My hands trembled, as much as they had the first day I had taken him driving.
"Fuck." I swore, and he made a contented noise, taking my glasses off me and doing something to them before passing them back. He must have wiped them, so I put them back on, hoping I wouldn't regret doing so when I saw his face. It was utterly gut wrenching, but when I looked and saw not a demanding slut with a maniac glint in his eye but Tino, simple Tino, with a satisfied peaceful smile and cum on his chin, I almost fainted with relief.
"M'sorry." I apologised, reaching forward to wipe my semen off his lower lip with my thumb. "Y' should've moved, I-"
"It's okay." He held my wrist as I went to pull it away and traced his tongue sexily over my cum covered finger. "I like it. It's salty."
I didn't know how to feel about that, and late to the show butterflies appeared in my stomach, my face flooded with heat and I knew I had probably taken on the colour of a particularly well done lobster.
"It's okay, the wine goes great with cum, I've tried it before." He laughed, and I couldn't help but be put out by that off colour humour of his again. And then I realised that my dick was still out, and hurried to hide it away. My clipboard had slipped to the floor by this point, but it was the least of my worries.
"Tino I still can't…" I swallowed, totally messed up and still trying to come to terms with what happened. "I still can't pass y'."
He laughed lightly and waved his hand, as if he already knew this.
"Are you kidding? I don't care if you pass me or not. I ran that light on purpose."