A/N: Since unpopular pairings are a #thing with me, have some PWP 2xR smut. This a actually a side story that's part of a larger universe I've been working on for... 15 years, but it works fine as a stand alone so I figured I'd just go ahead and post it.

Set in the early A.C. 200s.

Just Drive

They're driving home from Quatre's New Year's Eve party, going down unlit, two-lane, country roads because Mr. CEO wanted to show off the new cabin he and Trowa bought to "get away from it all" a few months ago. (It may also double as a safehouse just in case, but no one really wanted to bring that up.)

It's pitch black outside, the only lights for miles in any direction coming from the high beams on their sedan, but it's a straight shot back into the city from here.

They had fun, but it's been a special kind of torture for Duo all night long, having to keep his hands above the belt and not letting them wander when Relena went all out on her outfit for this little "low-key" get together. He couldn't stop staring all night long, and not even their midnight kiss had soothed the itch in his hands for her.

When they've got about twenty minutes left in the car ride, Relena starts pulling her silk evening gloves off, exposing more of her skin, and now Duo's had just about enough of keeping his hands to himself for the night.

Without turning his head he reaches over, gets his hand under the hem of her dress and slides his fingers over her knee, starts running them up–

"Duo Maxwell!" she scolds playfully. She swats his hand and crosses her legs none-too-subtly. "Eyes on the road, mister."

"Hey, my eyes are on the road," he counters, grinning.

"Hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel, then," she sasses back.

"I can steer with one hand."

"Please," she snorts. "You can barely steer with two to begin with."

He swats at her playfully and she flicks his ear, and it takes them all of 5 seconds to start shoving and pinching and harassing one another good-naturedly, laughter filling up the car interior.

"Stop!" she finally whines, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling, and she tells him to get both his hands back on the wheel.

"I'll get both hands back on something," he mocks, although only his right runs over her now-exposed thigh, sending a shiver up her spine.

"You can't finger me and drive at the same time," she states matter-of-factly, although most of the fight has left her. Her pulse is thumping in her ears and her nipples are drawing up tight inside of her bra.

"If I can pilot a Gundam through a warzone I can sure as hell finger you and drive at the same time, how dare you," he replies a little indignantly, and something about the way he says that makes her pupils shiver and expand, and she brings her hand down over his, he assumes to move it away, but then she's uncrossing her legs and guiding him between her thighs where she's already hot and a little wet for him.

His eyes flick to the side for just a moment, making sure she's okay with this, and at the little nod and affirmative hum she gives him, he looks back to the road and slides his fingers, smooth and slow, along her.

"Fuck," she breathes, her head thunking back against the headrest. She reaches her hands out for purchase and ends up digging her fingers into his bicep and the car door on either side of herself, getting breathless.

The slow, aching drag of his fingers over her clit, down and up, down and up, her panties giving her some added friction, it's almost torture. Her eyes slide closed and her hips start to roll back against his fingers almost on their own.

Duo bites his lip but keeps his eyes on the road. He wants to say something smug, told ya, but he keeps it to himself for now and instead focuses on getting her off, focuses on the noises she's making and how she's panting so much the car windows are fogging up a little.

"Duo," she whines, arching her back, grabbing his hand by the wrist and trapping it, vice-like, between her thighs as she rides his fingers. He switches angles so he can really grab her, use all four of his fingers to get her off, pointing them and alternating so he's rubbing at her quick and hard one minute and slow and aching the next.

She screams and pants and writhes as he works her up and then brings her down, and he chances a few quick glances over at her just to see.

See how her dress is twisted around a little on her, how the top of her bra is peeking out at him from her already-low neckline and her cheeks are blushing red, how she's drilling her head back against the seat and putting the long line of her neck on display, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and he groans deep in his throat when his dick reacts, twitching and scraping up against the zipper of his slacks.

Her eyes crack open just the tiniest bit at the noise. He can't even see the blue in them anymore, they're glassy and completely black with lust and just a little wet at the eyelashes.

He snatches his hand back and she just about yanks his arm off, shrieking at the loss, but he just sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and then dips them under her panties, gets them inside her while he works her clit with the heel of his palm.

"Fuck!"

She's just chanting swears and nonsense and writhing until he curls his fingers and strokes her g-spot, and that makes her kick her legs out, plants her heels down on the floor of the car and starts lifting her ass up off the seat, riding his fingers as he angles his wrist and curls them inside her.

He's never been more thankful that he can multi-task like the devil himself.

"C'mon, baby, we're almost back into the city," he croons, seeing building lights popping back up on the horizon.

"Duo, I can't, you gotta–"

"You can, come on," he purrs, curling his fingers, driving the heel of his palm down, and she sobs and her chest heaves and then her whole body goes rigid for a moment, those sounds she's been making getting trapped in her throat, and he feels her squeezing around his fingers, rhythmic, fluttering before she finally collapses back into her seat, boneless.

He keeps his hand where it is on her, in her, until she stops twitching. She starts running her right hand lazily over her tits as she tries to catch her breath, soothing, almost, and he grins.

He gives her a few more moments before he pulls his hand back, and she makes a little noise at the loss, her eyes still closed, still panting a little, head turned to the side.

He considers wiping his hand on the car seat but thinks better of it, sucks his fingers clean and then wipes them on his sleeve before reaching back over and pulling sweaty bangs out of her face.

Her nose crinkles and she shoves his hand away. "Ew," she whines good-naturedly, and he laughs, a little relieved.

"Still think I can't drive and finger you at the same time?" he teases, and she cracks her eyes open to give him an exasperated look before letting them fall closed again.

"This isn't over, you know," she says, sinking down into her seat.

"Oh, it's not, huh?"

"That's right. You're gonna get it when we get home," she threatens, and he throws his head back and laughs, pressing down on the gas pedal.

"I can't wait."

I modeled Relena's dress in this after the gown Audrey Hepburn wore in Sabrina, the one with the flowery beaded pattern on the bodice/skirt. Because why not.

Thanks for reading!