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CW: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME SEXUAL MATERIAL THAT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
PULLING UP TO THE WRECK in the Volkswagen, John B had the music blasting. He didn't mind, Martha had told him some time ago that she likes his taste. The adrenaline in the air pumping through everyone's veins, except Kiara's —who found their little fiasco stressful.
"Stealing drones makes you hungry," she says, opening the sidecar door as the rest stumble out from the back.
"What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now," JJ remarks, stepping out of the dark vehicle and into the humid night.
He shuffles in his place, looking around because he knows he isn't welcomed here... or anywhere for that matter. He tries to smooth down his wrinkled and dirty white tee, trying to look presentable in front of Mr. Carrera, but it's no use. His sweat is too sticky, the white fading transparent.
Easier for Martha to see and feel his abs when leans into him, so she doesn't mind. At all.
Martha steps out of the back seat as well, automatically walking up to the blond and muttering a dirty comment that only J could hear. "We both know you could eat something better than that."
Hot air hitches in the back of his throat, heat suddenly blasting against his neck, his ears becoming hot. Looking down he locks eyes with her, there is a glint or a different shade that he's only seen once before: that morning after Hurricane Agatha. She bites her lip, grinning as she's failing to control her laughter. JJ's jaw ticks as he feigns to be in control of his hormones.
"It would not be pretty," Pope continued the conversation, not hearing anything that Martha just said. Kiara and John B head up into the back door, Pope following them.
"Wait," he says, holding out the door for the couple that is still next to the van. "Mars, JJ, you comin'?"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll be right there!" Marty waves him along, suddenly JJ is at a loss with words. JJ turns his head, plastering a fake smile across his face, reassuring Pope that they'll be alright.
Pope nods, turning back around and catching up to Kiara and John B.
As soon as the back screen door closes, Martha is yanked from where she stands and is pushed against the backside of the van with a thud.
His breath heavy, his body pushing up against her, his veiny arms surrounding her on all sides. Nobody knows, nobody is watching, unless you count the flies and gnats observing from the overhead light. Its beams cascading imperfect shadows, both tempting and building tension.
"Are you tryin' to kill me today, or what?" He grits through his teeth, his thoughts becoming dirtier and dirtier by the second as she looks up at him with doe-like eyes.
