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Subsequential	By : Chriscent Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Female Views: 2164 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Carra just caught a glimpse of a figure as she flew past the walk.

Curiosity killed the kitty.

At the end of the driveway she slid to a stop, letting the rear drift around so she could look back.

She’d forgotten to close the garage door. She watched Dom, fully dressed now, walk into the garage. Out of sight. She waited, contemplating going back to see what he was doing. But then he reappeared, carrying a helmet.

Surprise kept her from moving as he jogged down the driveway toward her. He wanted to come with her? Yeah, right. It would only take a second and a single flex of her wrist to take off and leave him there alone. But she didn’t move.

He slowed as he neared her and she pulled her own helmet off. “You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged one bare shoulder, the hint of a smile showing. “Never been on one of these.”

That tipped the scales a bit. Her motorcycle was a bullet, and he’d be the passenger. Though it completely ruined the whole plan of getting away from him. She gave it a moment of thought, looking at him, seeing that he truly wanted to go. Well, crap.

She sighed and nodded. Instantly he was moving, throwing a leg over the bike and pulling his helmet on.

Well, at least the situation had changed. She wasn’t sitting across a table from him wondering what to do next. But as soon as he was settled on the bike behind her she realized the new problem. Not sitting across the table from her, but pressed to her back!

His hands hadn’t gripped her yet. He was new to this.

Slowly she released the throttle, letting the bike roll up the driveway. When she stopped before the garage she heard him speak, “Long drive.”

“Not done yet.” She pointed to the back wall. “Get a jacket. Not sure if Leon’s will fit you.”

He’d been climbing off when she spoke, and it had caused a hiccup in the fluid movement. Both feet on the ground now, “You sure?”

“It’s just a jacket, Dom.”

He moved to the back of the garage where several jackets hung from hooks. Ended up in the largest one, brown leather. It had been Leon’s, and just happened to match the one she was wearing. She couldn’t deny it looked good on him.

Back on the bike, she activated the walkie system in the helmet. “You’re going to have to hold on.”

“To what?”

He couldn’t be that dense. “Uh, me.”

Not a second of hesitation. She suspected he’d been playing it, getting her to tell him to do it.

Carra drove to the end of the driveway, trying to force her mind to focus on the road and not the body pressed to hers or the hands on her, or the hard arms cushioned by leather holding her. A mental image of their positions kept forming. How if they were lying down just as they were it would be considered spooning. How her butt was nestled tight between his spread legs. How she’d forgotten to zip her jacket and his hands were on her stomach, a single layer of cotton not keeping the heat from making the muscles stay tensed in reaction.

Through stop lights, always moving east at the major intersections.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice came clearly to her, the system in the helmets flawless. “Away from the I-5.”

They could speak. They could have a political discussion if they’d wanted to, but both lapsed into silence. Intersections, the stopping and going, caused their helmets to hit together repeatedly. It was starting to annoy her.

“Press your helmet to mine.”

Her head bumped forward as he followed instruction. “I was trying to keep it from hitting.”

“Yeah, so press it. Will only come apart a bit on the bumps then.”

That annoyance silenced and they reached the open highway. Her crotch-rocket could easily slip around cars in her path, even if there was cross traffic. Once she even passed on the shoulder, barely hanging onto the edge of pavement.

Ten minutes passed, desert opening before them. Carra never dropped her speed below a hundred. The terrain was flat, letting her see oncoming traffic, so she could hug the inside of turns, even going on the wrong side of the road. Straightway. One-sixty. They were flying.

A light flashed below her. Damn. She instantly hit the brake, not enough to skid, but close. The sudden slowdown forced Dom onto her, pressing her forward. With the speed down the motorcycle was quieter. She could easily hear his rapid breathing.

Below the speed limit now, it felt like crawling. Nothing out of the ordinary, then… there. Behind a highway sign and some desert shrubs. A police car with only its parking lights on, the officer and his radar gun leaning out the window.

“Nice save.”

Carra grinned, “You don’t go racing in the desert without a radar detector.”

“I never thought you’d race in the desert.”

She smiled to herself. Yeah, boring Carra never did anything fun.

A minute of silence. She kept the speed down, the detector still picking up radar, though it could just be the cop behind them.

“Pull over.”

Huh? “Say again.”

“You heard me. Pull over. I gotta piss.”

She snorted, but did as requested, “That’s nice, Dom. Your bodily functions are fascinating.”

“Yeah, I amaze myself.”

She came to a stop, killing the lights, and already he was climbing off. The helmet got tossed at her, and then he was walking away. Just ten feet or so, his back to her.

Clear night, good breeze blowing out here. Quiet, except for him peeing. Carra rolled her eyes and looked the other way just in case he turned before zipping up.

“You should have been a street racer.”

His comment brought her head around. Luckily, if he had turned before righting himself she hadn’t seen it, but he was still in the process of zipping. “Excuse me?”

“You’re good. You should have driven for me.”

She hoped he was joking but had a feeling he was dead serious. “Street racing is illegal.”

“What do you call this?”

A second of consideration, “Staying below the radar.”

He stopped a few feet away. “Same thing.”

“Is it?” She stared at him hard, able to see him well enough in the starlit night. “There’s no one else out here. If I crash it’s just me. Can you say the same? You’re driving tinkered vehicles with highly volatile fuel and no one double-checking that you did it right. One push of a button and your car could blow, taking the ones around it with you. Or a family van could stray onto whatever course you’ve claimed, not realizing the danger. Would it be the same if you smeared some young mother and a few children across the blacktop?”

Hands deep in his pockets, that leaning back stance. “I’m confident.”

She nodded, “Yes, and I would have confidence in you too. You know the car, you know how to drive. But you don’t control everything. Some kid new to the races doesn’t have your talent, or isn’t as watchful. And there’s always chance. The ball bouncing into the road thing.”

“That could happen out here too.”

She nodded, “It could, though I don’t see the point in comparing. I can bail into the desert here, take the punishment for just me. Concrete walls and rows of cars aren’t a good cushion. You’re surrounded by people in the city. It’s not nearly the same.”

“So I just don’t race?”

He spit the words at her, his voice rising.

“There are legal ways.”

He shook his head, his hands pulling from his pockets, forming fists as he turned away to pace a few steps away. “I was banned.”

“You were banned from racing professionally.”

He turned back, “Yeah.”

She raised a brow. “You can still race as a customer.”

“A what?”

She smiled, “You can rent the track. Use your own cars.”

“Pay to race?” His disgust was palpable.

“It’s legal.” She shrugged, “And it’s racing.”

Silence for a full minute. He walked a circle, head down, watching his feet scuff at the hard ground. Then his head came up, “You done it?”

“Raced the tracks?” She was trying to keep from smiling. Had she dangled a carrot before a rabbit? His dad had raced professionally. It was in his blood. Going the illegal route had been all that was available to him, and he’d excelled at it. But that giant oval was still sitting there, unavailable. “Yes, I race. Took Leon his first time.”

“Leon was still racing?” He seemed genuinely surprised, and she was confused.

“He never said so?” Why wouldn’t he have told his friends? Embarrassed or selfish? She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. “Yes, he raced the cars he built. We’d even race together.”

A little smile as he looked at her. “You beat him?”

She huffed a laugh, not looking at him. “Sometimes.”

He came back toward the bike, just a step away now. “Sometimes?”

Damn, how could he know that? She wouldn’t lie, and in truth was more than a little conceited about her wins. “Yeah, well, quite a few times, okay?”

He nodded, “It doesn’t surprise me.”

She stared at him hard. “Why do you say that?”

One shoulder lifted, the leather creaking softly, “Just knew Leon, and seen you drive tonight. Natural born racer.” His smile would be considered self-satisfied as he came back to the highway.

Carra considered it and him, deciding to not take offense at his astute observation. “I like driving fast. If it’s safe. I like that tiny second of panic when you realize you’re going faster than humans were ever meant to go, and that nothing but concrete can stop you quickly.”

“Gotta trust yourself.”

She shrugged a shoulder, “Or just be a little crazy.” She handed him the helmet before grabbing up her own.

“Never thought you were the crazy sort.”

Helmet on, she remembered to zip her jacket. Didn’t need his hands on her any more than what was required. “Never asked.” Now her voice was relaying through the headset in the helmet.

Leg over, then she waited for him to do the same before seating herself.
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Subsequential