This was highly cliche, but honestly you didn't give a damn. Your entire date had been a bit of a cliche, really. John took you to a lame movie, you critized while he protested how "good" it was, then the two of you took your old dusty pick-up truck to a more secluded area. Everything after that is a bit of a blur since one minute you're sharing a sweet, even more cliche kiss and the next minute you're being pulled back into the small backseat of your old truck. The soft tune coming from your rather shitty radio was barely audible over the sound of your groans as he straddled you, attacking your jaw and neck, trailing bites and kisses all along it.

~And now our bodies are oh so close and tight.~

In a matter of moments he had your shirt off, throwing it to the passenger's seat carelessly. You soon push your hands under the hem of his shirt, sliding them up his chest as he shamelessly grinds down against you, pulling a moan from the back of your throat. You practically rip his shirt off him and soon dive in to trail bites and wet open mouthed kisses to his chest, and oh god he's groaning, and oh fuck how much longer can you handle this?

~'Cause we were barely seventeen, and we were barely dressed.~

Soon his hands are drifting down to unbuckle your belt and palm you through the fabric of your jeans. You had no idea you were this hard until you noticed where his hands were headed. He soon has you bucking into his hand with desperate and needy whines, because holy fuck does Egbert know how to use his hands. When you let out a particularily pitiful whine, he decides he's had enough fun and relieves you of your pants and boxers, which now happen to be down around your ankles. His lips are back at yours just as hungrily as before. When he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth gently you shudder and whine again, earning a small giggle from him. Usually, if someone were giggling mid-makeout with you you'd be pissed, but for some reason you love when John does it. He soon trails kisses down your neck, teeth clamping down occasionally and making you squeal in a totally ironic way. He kisses up to your ear and nips at your earlobe, flicking his tongue against it as his hands trail down your barely noticable, happy little blonde trail. Fingers dancing above your waistband you don't think you can handle much more when he stops suddenly, reaching up to pluck your shades from your face. He tosses them carelessly onto the same seat as your shirt, hands gliding back down to grip onto your hips as he grinds firmly against you, and oh he's taking his own pants off. The two of you have never gotten this far before.

~We're gonna go all the way tonight. We're gonna go all the way. And tonight's the night.~

"Uhn, John" You're a bundle of mixed emotions and live wires when he take the both of you in hand and strokes you shyly. And when he does this little quirk where he flicks his wrist at the tip you're completely lost. After a few more strokes, he has you panting beneath him, legs twitching slightly as you struggle to keep some composure. Soon you can't handle it, and you bat his hands away lazily, reaching over the seat to get at the glovebox.

~This boy can really fly!~

You let out a surprised squeal as he wraps his hands around your inner thighs and flips you over so you're on your back. You take a moment to realize what the fuck just happened when you feel him give the underside of your cock a tentative lick. You roll your head back at the feeling of him wrapping his lips around your length, taking you as much as he can before his gag reflex kicks in. He uses one hand to stroke the rest that he can't fit, and you try and control your hips, bucking up slightly once, which causes him to pull back with a soft sputter. "S-Shit, sorry mAN!" You whisper your apology quietly, voice cracking slightly as he takes you in again, this time holding your hips down with both hands. With both hands occupied, he resorts to pulling off you with a small pop. You're about the complain when suddenly- Oh fuck, he's just kissing and licking at where ever he can reach, and oh fuck you won't last much more. Focusing the small amount of sanity you currently have left, you reach up into the glove box and pull out a small bottle of lube. You quickly toss it at him, and it hits his bare shoulder with a barely audible thump. He stares up at you, lust filled blue eyes meeting piercing red ones before he finally gets the message. He presses a kiss to your weeping dick one last time, which draws a small moan from you, and sits back on his heels, moving so you can settle back in your original position. You shuck your pants and boxers off from around your ankles and settle back down, legs hooking around his waist as he settles between them. He slicks his fingers up with a rather generous amount of lube, and you can tell he's nervous from the way he's biting him lip. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you wrap your hand behind his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. It stays sweet for a while until you feel one finger work its way past your tight ring of muscles, and oh- That feels... Different. He gives you a moment to get used to the feeling, slowly thrusting his finger a bit. When you finally give him the go ahead, he adds another finger, and scissors them slowly. He's still nervous, but he seems distracted watching you wiggle and writhe infront of him. By the time he adds the third finger, you hope he finds your prostate. He does in time, and it makes you see stars for a moment. After a while of this you begin to thrust back against his fingers, and he gets the message. Slowly removing his fingers from you, he slicks up his own, previously ignored length and lines up with your entrance.

~He's gonna slide in head first!~

He pushes in slowly, and it takes you a moment to adjust. When you finally give him the go ahead, he pushes into you all the way, letting out a low moan of something along the lines of "Fuck, Dave" when your hips meet. He waits for a brief moment before picking up a slightly awkward pace, but he quickly falls into a smoother rhythm. At some point he accidentally brushes against your prostate and you arch your back, letting out a moan as your eyes squeeze shut. He leans over slightly to place small kisses all along your neck and shoulders, leaving various hickies and bitemarks. He picks up the pace a bit and snags a hand down to stroke your cock along with the tempo of his thrusts. You're almost near your end when you open your eyes and pull him down for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, tongues tangling as you mumble out a few moans and pleas. "Fuck. John." "Ahhhh, f-fuck Dave, h-holy fuck..." "Oh my goddddddddddd, John, John, John." You begin chanting his name over and over like it's a sacred mantra. He thrusts roughly against your prostate and you reach your climax, back arching off the seat of the car as white cords of cum splatter onto both of your stomachs and chests, uttering out a single, needy "JOOOOOHN!" The feeling of you tightening around him must have been too much for him, because he shortly followed after, crying out your name and filling you deeply. He pulls out and collapses ontop of you, panting and out of breath and paying absolutely no mind to the mess between you. You reach a hand up to card your fingers through his hair, mumbling out a soft "I love you." and smiling when he giggles one back. You're just about to drift off to sleep when you hear a flashlight tap against the car window, and look up to see a police officer standing outside awkwardly.

Fuck.