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How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Outtake: Road Rage
Edward and city traffic during road construction season do not mix.
You'd think he would have learned that by now.
"You stupid son of a bitch, get off the fucking road!" Edward yells, flipping the bird with one hand and blaring the horn with the other.
I sigh quietly and reach over to rest my hand on his knee. It does nothing to calm him down whatsoever but it makes me feel better nonetheless.
I learned pretty quickly that Edward's short temper was even more extreme on the road. He had road rage like I'd never seen before. He just wasn't happy unless he was breaking at least one traffic law. And he abso-fucking-lutely refused to let me drive anywhere.
If I even asked, he'd give me an incredulous look and snort a little, like I must be joking.
I shook my head and sighed again. It was just a lost cause. He had to be the one driving or he was bitching about it.
Of course, even when he was the one behind the wheel, he was still bitching, just not about the same thing. As bad as his road rage was, he generally was a pretty good driver, even if not necessarily safe. He claims he's never been in an accident. I don't even want to know how many tickets he's had over the years.
As he swerves into a tight space between two cars, I close my eyes and clutch at his knee, not even able to watch anymore. He's even worse than usual today. I think the long day on the road is to blame. But of course, I couldn't drive.
He chuckles and pats my hand. "Calm down, Jasper." As soon as those words are out of his mouth, he's slamming on the brakes. "Goddamn stupid motherfucking whore," he yells at no one in particular.
I keep my eyes closed and my head pressed firmly against the headrest. My internal monologue is slightly more hysterical than normal as I wonder if we're going to make it home alive this time.
It's only about another five minutes before we hit a traffic jam, and Edward beats the living shit out of the steering wheel as we come to a complete stop. I rub his knee soothingly but the constant stream of expletives coming out of his mouth doesn't even waver.
"Just think, if you'd have been driving, we never would have made it home," he mutters.
I shoot him a glare but he doesn't notice as he continues to stare straight ahead.
"You think Calla's okay?" he asks softly, taking his eyes off the cars ahead for the first time to look at me worriedly.
"Yes, baby, Calla is fine," I answer him.
"You should text Emmett just to make sure," he pleads.
I do just that, even though we had talked to Emmett before leaving to head back home―at which point Calla had been more than fine. His reply comes quickly and in picture form. Calla is curled up and sleeping against a far too naked Jacob, and I can't help cringing.
"What?" Edward demands, noticing my expression.
I wordlessly hand him my cell with the picture open and he winces too. "At least she's alright," he mutters, handing my phone back.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the turned-down radio and Edward's occasion impatient huff. I put my hand on his thigh after he turns up the radio, and start to rub as he rants on and on about there being nothing to listen to while we will be stuck in traffic for God knows how long.
All my thigh massaging does absolutely no good at all, even as I work higher and try to silently change the course of his frustration, he still just spouts on and on about 'these goddamn fucking idiots.'
When I spot the construction worker's fluorescent vest heading down the row of cars ahead of us, I rub a little bit harder in hopes of calming him down before all hell breaks loose.
He seems to finally pick up on what I'm trying to do and spreads his legs, groaning and relaxing just the slightest bit back into his seat. I can actually hear the radio again now that he's quit going on about shit no one really has a say in. I can feel his dick hardening under my hand, and I work to keep him distracted as long as I can. He hasn't noticed the worker making his way back toward us yet.
He notices when the guy knocks on the window though. I pull my hand away and roll the window down slightly.
"Evening, gentlemen. There's been a situation about a quarter mile up. We can't re-route you guys, and it'll be about two hours before the roadway is cleared. Just a heads-up. You can turn off your engine."
The guy doesn't even bother with more of an explanation than that. He has a sympathetic smile for us and that's it before he moves on down the line of vehicles.
Edward's silence actually disturbs me a little. "Well, at least I wasn't driving, right?" I ask jokingly.
"If you'd have been driving, we probably would have missed this little 'situation.'"
I should have seen that one coming. I close my eyes and rest my head back on the headrest as he kills the engine. The silence is a bit deafening until Edward groans quietly and grabs my wrist, putting my hand back on his dick.
"You started it," he grumbles when I cock an eyebrow at him.
"You want me to give you a handjob right here?" I ask, looking around outside of the car. It's nearly twilight, and the windows are tinted fairly dark as it is. It's not likely anyone would be able to see in here without us noticing.
"Well, we have to pass the time somehow, don't we? These fucking idiots are clearly incapable―"
I grip his half-hard dick through his jeans and he cuts off mid-sentence. I've had enough of the ranting for one day. A handjob sounds like a much better idea than two hours of endless tirade.
He reaches over to twine his fingers into my hair and squirms in his seat, moaning as I squeeze and rub him through his jeans. The harder he gets, the more firmly he wraps his fingers into my hair until he's literally tugging at the roots, and pulling me closer to him.
I switch hands as I lean over the center console, and he moans into my mouth, pressing his hips forward into my palm.
"Get in the backseat," he whispers roughly, breaking our kiss.
"What? Edward..." I trail off, not sure what my defense was going to be. We have plenty of time, we have nothing else to do, it's dark, and I'm as horny as he is.
I say nothing else and climb into the backseat. He smacks my ass when I'm halfway there and I'm tempted to kick him in retaliation and call it an accident. He doesn't give me the chance. He shoves me the rest of the way, and as soon as I'm on my ass he's in the backseat undoing my pants and ripping them off my legs.
I squeak and he chuckles darkly, leaning in and kissing me so forcefully my head hits the backdoor window.
"Can you believe these assholes? Two fucking hours," he mutters, gripping my underwear and peeling them down my legs.
I groan and roll my eyes while he grabs my legs and spreads them.
"Show those bastards. Best two fucking hours spent in a traffic jam."
I snort at his mindless raving, but my amusement dies as his lips connect with my balls. I groan and look down at him, watching as he licks and sucks at me 'til I'm hard. He grabs my previously discarded jeans off the floor and fishes out my wallet, tossing it onto my stomach so I can find our supplies while he keeps his mouth focused on my cock.
After pulling out a condom and a lube packet, I toss my wallet into the front seat and drop the items into his waiting hand. He grasps onto my legs and drags me closer to him; I hold my legs up as he tears open the lube and coats his fingers.
He scoots forward and I drop my legs onto his shoulders while his fingers find my entrance, knowingly circling and pressing before pushing in slowly one at a time. He leans in and kisses me as he works his first finger in and out, teasing me.
His second finger starts to stretch me and he twists and curls them, pressing his tongue further into my mouth when I start to moan. He knows just how to make me pant and beg for more, and beg I do when he scissors his fingers apart.
Pushing a third finger in, he curves them up and hits right there.
"Edward," I groan, gasping while he watches me with a smirk on his face.
He pushes his fingers in as deep as they'll go one more time before pulling out. Shifting back slightly, he quickly unbuttons his pants and works them down his thighs. He tears the condom open and rolls it down his hard cock. With his lubed hand, he starts to stroke my cock while he settles between my legs, holding one up while I wrap the other around his waist.
I take a deep breath and relax as he starts to push in. We both groan when I clench down around him and his hand tightens around my cock, gripping and stroking until I loosen up again. He shifts closer to me and pushes in slowly, giving me a chance to adjust. He leans down to kiss me softly, slowly, as he slides in deeper and deeper.
The air inside the car is hot and thick, and we're both panting as he starts to fuck me. There isn't much light left and the sound of the city right outside is familiar, even if it feels so much closer than it normally would.
The fact that we are so close to other people, that we could get caught at any minute, is exhilarating. Edward's movements are quick and calculated, the high of the adrenaline rush bringing the imminent end closer, faster.
With a twist of Edward's wrist, I lose it, and he fucks me straight through my orgasm, drawing it out and bringing on his own.
My hot skin feels uncomfortable against the leather seats, and the air reeks of sex as we come down from our mutual release. Edward doesn't help matters by hunching forward and crushing me at an awkward angle.
"Best traffic jam ever," he mumbles against my neck.
I groan and shift painfully. "Agreed, now get up."
With a sigh, he pulls himself away and shifts back into his pants. While his back is turned I quickly peel off my soiled shirt and use it to clean the cum off of the leather seat and rear window. He thankfully hadn't noticed that; he's so touchy about the car still. I don't know what he expects, sex―especially with me―tends to be a bit messy.
Edward spends the rest of the hour with his eyes closed, and our ride home is surprisingly peaceful. I think I managed to find the perfect remedy for Edward's road rage.
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