Work Text:
The metallic scent of gunpowder mingles with the expensive col Raymond wears, a dangerous combination that makes your heart race faster than the speeding car you're in. The leather of the seats creaks beneath you as Raymond expertly maneuvers through the narrow alleyways, his expensive three-piece suit somehow immaculate despite the chaos. His icy blue eyes dart between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other rests dangerously close to your thigh.
"Stay down," he commands, his voice that familiar gravelly rumble that sends shivers down your spine. You obey without question, pressing yourself against the floorboard as bullets ricochet off the armored vehicle. The sound is deafening, but beneath it all, you can hear his breathing—steady, controlled, utterly unfazed by the life-threatening situation.
The car swerves violently, and you find yourself sliding toward him. His free hand shoots out, gripping your hip with surprising strength. His fingers dig into your flesh through the thin fabric of your dress, and you bite back a moan. Even in the middle of a firefight, his touch ignites something primal in you.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Always following orders so well." His thumb traces circles on your hip, each movement deliberate and teasing. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, desire warring with adrenaline.
Another burst of gunfire, and Raymond curses under his breath. He slams on the brakes, sending you forward. Before you can react, he's dragging you into the back seat with him. The space is cramped, his expensive suit jacket brushing against your bare arms. He positions you between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as he leans against the door, gun raised.
"Keep your head down," he orders, but his voice has changed—taken on that darker, huskier tone that means he's thinking about something other than survival. His free hand slides up your side, fingers tracing the curve of your breast. "Unless, of course, you'd rather be doing something else with that mouth of yours."
Your breath catches as his thumb brushes over your nipple. The fabric of your dress does little to mask the sensation, and you arch into his touch. Raymond chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.
"Always so responsive," he says, his voice dropping lower. "So eager for my attention." He pinches your nipple, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. "I bet you're wet right now, aren't you? Thinking about all the things I could do to you while we're being shot at."His gun still pointed out the window. He fires three shots in quick succession, the recoil barely affecting his steady grip. With his other hand, he continues his exploration of your body, fingers trailing down your stomach, dipping into the waistband of your panties.
"Raymond," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.
"Shh," he murmurs against your neck. "Don't distract me." But his fingers continue their downward journey, finding your slick folds. You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he circles your clit, slow and deliberate. "So wet already. Such a greedy little thing."
His fingers slide inside you, and you rock against his hand, seeking more friction. Raymond's movements remain precise, controlled. He curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.
"You like this, don't you?" he growls in your ear. "The danger, the risk of being caught at any moment. It makes everything more intense." He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously. "Tell me how much you like it."
Your response is cut off by another round of gunfire. Raymond shifts, positioning himself better to return fire while maintaining his assault on your senses. His thumb presses against your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you. The dual sensations are overwhelming—pleasure and fear mixing into an intoxicating cocktail.
"Come on," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." He curls his fingers again, and you can't hold back the moan that escapes your lips. "That's it. Let them hear how much you're enjoying this." Suddenly you're facing him, straddling his lap as he leans against the door. His gun rests beside him, momentarily forgotten as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer. You can feel his hardness through his expensive trousers, and the thought of what's hidden beneath that tailored fabric makes your mouth water.
"Show me," he commands, his icy eyes dark with lust. "Show me how much you want it."
Your fingers tremble as you work his belt buckle open, then his zipper. The sound seems impossibly loud in the confined space, but Raymond doesn't seem to care. He watches you with intense focus, his hands still gripping your hips, thumbs stroking circles on your skin.
When you finally free his cock, your breath catches. So thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches.
"None of that teasing," he growls, his fingers tightening on your hips. "I want your mouth on me. Now."
You obey without hesitation, lowering your head until your lips brush against the tip. His taste explodes on your tongue—salty, masculine, uniquely Raymond. You swirl your tongue around the head, tracing the ridge, before taking him deeper.
Raymond's head falls back against the door with a thud, his eyes closing. "Fuck," he breathes, his hands moving from your hips to tangle in your hair. "Just like that."
You take him deeper, relaxing your throat to accommodate his size. The sounds of the outside world fade away, replaced by the wet sounds of your mouth on his cock, his ragged breathing, and the distant echo of gunfire. It's surreal, dangerous, and incredibly arousing.
His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements. "Look at me," he commands. You raise your eyes to meet his, and the intensity you see there takes your breath away. "You look so beautiful like this. With my cock in your mouth."
He thrusts up slightly, hitting the back of your throat. You gag slightly but don't pull away, instead taking him deeper. Raymond groans, his hips bucking again.
"Such a good slut," he praises, his voice rough with desire. "Taking me so well. So eager to please." His free hand slides up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "I wonder if you're this eager when other men watch you."
The thought sends a jolt of arousal through you. You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, wanting to show him just how eager you can be.
Raymond suddenly tenses, his eyes flicking to the window. "Hold on," he warns, reaching for his gun. You don't stop, instead taking him deeper as he returns fire. The recoil causes his hips to jerk, pushing him further down your throat.
"Fuck," he gasps, his hand tightening in your hair. "Don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop."
You double your efforts, bobbing your head faster, using your hand to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. His breathing grows ragged, his hips moving in time with your movements. The danger outside the car only heightens the intensity between you.
"Close," he warns, his voice strained. "I'm so close."
You hum around his length, the vibrations making him curse. His fingers pinch your nipple hard, and the pain-pleasure sends you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, intensely, and you moan around his cock.
Raymond follows you over, his hips jerking as he spills down your throat. You swallow every drop, continuing to suck until he's completely spent…I