Dedication: Happy super late birthday TK!
Summary: Body like an hour glass, curves like the sea.
Notes: Hi I write porn for my friends' birthdays.
The Runaway Remix
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They speed down the road, the pavement smooth against the tires. The sun is gone and the moon's up making the sky glow in that weird shade of blue with the stars glowing in an uneven scatter. He's flooring it, dark blue car speeding and breaking the sound barrier.
His hair whips in the air, smacking his cheekbones and sweeping the base of his neck but her hair is like blue streamers, dancing in a way that makes his chest rumble.
Juvia's sitting on the passenger's seat, knees bent and legs pulled in close. Her the skirt of her white summer dress is riding up her thighs, the thin straps sliding off her shoulder and she doesn't seem to mind, navy eyes on the road, lips pressed together and her fingers playing with the buckles of those combat boots she loves so much.
Gray wills the old pickup truck to go faster.
This is a thing they do. They ride in the night, tempting fate and challenging the limits, speeding down the empty streets without a word ringing between them.
Juvia is named after the rain but she makes Gray think of the sun and sunburns on his back; the severe ones that make it hard to forget its there, the ones that don't let you sleep on your back and when you're fast asleep and attempt to tends to sting in ways that make you writher and sit up, grunting in pain.
Gray turns to spare her a glance.
She's twirling a lock of her wavy blue hair around her finger, head tilted, thick lashes shadowing her pale cheekbones.
He looks away, runs a hand through his hair and blows air into his cheeks.
Love is like a glass of whiskey—hard and burning.
Love is loving the girl next door, throwing pebbles at her window and telling her to come for a ride, both never realizing it'd become a ritual and she'd wear shorts and summer dresses that expose her legs and Gray really likes her legs like he likes to catch snowflakes in his tongue because his dead mother used to do it while he built her a snowman.
Juvia makes him think of rhythmic dancing, her hips against his, grinding with a tantalizing rotation, their eyes locked and her lips parted, whispering his name in that way he liked. He likes how she said his name.
"Let's go to the beach," she says, turning towards him, shifting so she's in the middle of the seats, leaning her head on his arm and placing her hand on his thigh.
He speeds down the road, making a jerky turn and driving onto the sand of the beach. The waves are angry as they clash onto the shore; the beach is empty, not a soul in sight save for the clumps of grass growing at random spots and branches—some naked and some with leaves—lying around, scattered.
Gray stops the car and the roar of the engine comes to an end. They sit there for a while and Juvia's running her hand up and down his thigh, soft and slow, like a whisper behind closed doors.
"I love the salt in the air," she whispers.
He knows.
She told him on their first adventure, driving up to Crocus with the windows rolled down and her hands sticking out, making shapes on the harsh wind blowing by.
Juvia takes a deep breath and he pictures her eyes closed, that soft smile on her lips.
"Y'wanna go outside?" he asks and she laughs, sitting up.
"How'd you know?"
"I know you."
She scoots back to her side of the car, yanking the lever from the outside to get the door to open. She's running, kicking sand behind her and Gray stands and watches her, one of his hands in the pocket of his dark jeans, the other one sliding a cigarette in between his teeth.
Juvia stands by the shore, her dress ruffling with the wind, rising up and allowing her panties to show—she didn't care, he knows, because he's there and he's seen it all.
Gray sits on the hood of the old pick up truck, smoking his cig and his eyes on her as she pulls her summer dress off and runs to the icy water, boots still on.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling the smoke from his cig through his nose and he pretends to count the grains of sand, but that's too much work and he loses count after five. He looks up and watches as Juvia twirls in the water, the ends of her blue hair wet and stringy.
It isn't long before the water is too cold even for her, and she walks back out, snatching her dress from the ground and walking towards him in nothing but her bra and panties and boots, water droplets glistening on her skin, running down her smooth, long legs.
She stands in front of him, head tilted and she's so much more relaxed than that day he threw pebbles at her window, the day this ritual began. She's not sad and gloomy and depressed, trying to run away from herself but not knowing how.
She laughs as he raises an eyebrow at her and Gray loves the way she laughs. It sounds like the soft drizzle after the rain, soothing and calming.
"What're you laughing at?"
"I'm cold," she says and Gray hops off the hood of the car, the butt of his still-lit cig in between his pressed lips.
He grabs his leather jacket from his seat and throws it over her shoulders. She's engulfed and she looks so goddamn amazing, it could actually hurt. He uses the fat tire of the truck as a stool and raises himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. She climbs up after him, sliding onto the bed and yanking him down with her.
"Sometimes," she says, "When I look up at the sky I think about this book—The Faults in our Stars—it has nothing to do with the sky but the stars make me think of the title."
"What's it about," he asks, resting his head on her lap.
"Love."
"Che."
"Don't you believe in love, Gray?"
"I love you."
Juvia laughs, her fingers twirling his hair. "Me too, silly."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He shifts, sitting up so he could push her down. Hovering above her, he places kisses down her jaw. Juvia sighs, relaxing and rolling her head to the side.
"Stupid," he murmurs. "You're going to catch a fuckin' cold."
"You can take care of me."
Gray snorts.
He kisses every inch of her body, drinking up the drops of water like he drank up all her issues. And all that he can't drink he holds in his hands because Juvia is everything he never realized he'd want but now has and, fuck, she's perfect with all her imperfection.
She yanks his shirt off and throws it to the side, shrugging his jacket off and wrapping her legs around his hips. His hands grip her legs, nails trailing pink lines as he runs them up and down, and vision going white because her legs drive him wild.
Juvia cup his chin and presses his lips against his once and then again and again and again and she laughs as he smirks because she's stupid and cute and she drives him crazy, drunk on love and breathless with desire.
She whispers things in his ears and Gray growls yanking her panties down like she likes and touching her in all the right places where he knows he'll get the soft moans pressed onto his throat.
Her hands are desperate when she unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. Gray smirks onto the valley in between her chest and he let's her push his boxers down before he grabs her hands, interlacing their fingers and raising them over her head.
When he rocks against her, she lets out a satisfied gasp, arching her back.
He moves with a rhythm—fast, slow, fast, slow until she's wrapping her legs around him, again, bringing him closer and meeting his every thrust.
Her moans are soft, ending with a grunt that did things to him, makes him move faster and with a crazed need.
He'd find it funny if this didn't occur on more than one occasion, fucking on the back of his pickup truck with the moon and the stars as their witness as he brings her the release she craves and even then he continues to pump into her with force until he finds his own.
The sky knows all their secrets and all the curves and angles of their bodies.
When she reaches her limit with a muffled, guttural cry against his collarbone, he pounds into her until he finds his own and he grunts deep in his throat, clenching their interlaced hands and lifting them before banging them back down.
Juvia laughs, kissing the side of his lip and bringing him down from his high.
"I love it when it comes at random," she whispers, pulling him down so his torso is resting on top of her. "It's sexier."
"Y'want more?"
She purrs.
"Gimme a sec," he sighs, closing his eyes and listening to her heart. She has curves like the sea and her heartbeat is like the waves, loud and powerful and fierce.
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