Bad At Driving, Great At Fucking

Romi Rain sits beside Athena Fleurs in the car, going over the basics for her driving test. “Ever go to driving school?” she asks. Athena smirks. “Never needed it. I always come first in racing games.” Romi gives a small laugh, both wary and strangely charmed. Then Athena twists the key. “Time to win first place again.” The engine roars. Romi’s voice rises—“This isn’t a race!”—but Athena is already pulling out. Hours later they sit in Romi’s small office. Athena leans forward. “So, did I pass?” Romi sets the clipboard down like it might bite. “You failed. Worst test I’ve given in years.” Athena’s face falls, then brightens again. “Let me try once more.” “Six months,” Romi answers, unmoved. Athena stands, steps around the desk, fingers brushing Romi’s thigh. She leans in, breath warm, voice low. Romi’s resistance fades fast; denial never stood a chance against those lips and hands. Maybe the girl can’t handle a clutch, but she certainly knows how to steer a body into giving in.