Chapter 7: Van Interlude
The van doors rattled on their tracks as another vehicle passed too close, a blast of bass and laughter seeping through the thin metal. Lex’s mouth was a warm, wet socket of pressure, and Josh watched, his head tilted back against the vinyl, as her dark hair curtained his thighs. Her technique was shy at first, all tentative licks and soft suction, but he knew that was just her surface. He remembered the Berlin green room, the way she’d screamed into that musty cushion, the raw, unfiltered noise she made when she let go.
“Deeper,” he grunted, his voice scraping low. He applied pressure, not a brutal shove, but a firm, guiding hand at the back of her skull.“Take it all. You fucking know how.”
She gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she relaxed her throat. He felt the incredible, silken tightness give way as she took him deeper, her nose pressing into his skin.A groan tore out of him.“Jesus, Lex.Yeah. Just like that.”
He let her set the rhythm for a minute, his hips making tiny, involuntary thrusts into that perfect heat. The festival was a distant thunder now, secondary to the wet, rhythmic sounds filling the van.Her hands came up to cradle his balls, rolling them gently, and he hissed a curse. Her shyness was a shell, and he was obsessed with cracking it, with finding the feral creature he knew lived beneath her quiet, mixing fingers.
He pulled her off by her hair, not roughly, but with decisive possession. Her lips were slick and swollen, a string of saliva connecting them to his glistening cock. In the half-light, her eyes were wide, dark pools of something between fear and a hunger that mirrored his own.
“My turn,” he said, his breath coming hard.
He turned her around, shuffling in the cramped space until she was on her hands and knees, the rough, patterned vinyl of the van floor biting into her palms. The air smelled of salt, weed, and the electric tang of her arousal. He yanked her shorts and underwear down to her knees in one rough pull, the fabric catching at her ankles. The pale curves of her ass were exposed, still faintly marked from where his hand had smeared his come in Berlin. The sight sent a fresh, brutal wave of lust through him.He didn’t tease. He spat onto his fingers, slicked himself, and then pressed the broad, leaking head of his cock against her entrance. She was wet—soaked—but tight. He pushed in with one relentless, steady thrust, burying himself to the hilt.A choked cry burst from her, muffled against her own arm. “Fuck, Josh…”
“Yeah,” he panted, his hands clamping on her narrow hips. “Fuck is right.”
He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, setting a punishing, immediate pace.The van rocked gently with their motion. Each drive of his hips met the soft slap of skin on skin, a counter-rhythm to the dying festival outside. He leaned over her, one arm bracing against the van wall, the other hand snaking around to find her clit. She was swollen, a hard little nub of need, and he rubbed rough, tight circles over it as he fucked her.
“You like this?” he growled into her ear, his voice ragged. “You like getting railed in the back of a filthy van like some cheap groupie?”
She shook her head, her hair sticking to her damp face. “N-no…”
He pinched her clit, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her buck and gasp.“Don’t fucking lie to me. I can feel your cunt gripping me.It’s milking my dick, Lex. Tell me you like it.”
Her answer was a broken moan as his thumb continued its relentless assault. Her inner muscles clamped down on him in a sudden, vicious spasm. “Yes… god, yes, I like it…”
Her confession, forced and honest, undid him.His control snapped. He straightened up, pulled his hand away, and gripped her hips with both hands, using her for leverage. His thrusts became shorter, harder, piston-fast. The van was an oven, sweat pouring down his temples, down the valley of her spine.“I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice a raw scrape. “Where do you want it?Huh?Inside that tight little cunt? Or on your ass, like last time?”
She was beyond words, a writhing, sobbing mess beneath him.He took her silence as surrender. With a final, brutal series of thrusts, he bottomed out inside her and held there. His release was a hot, pulsing flood, jetting deep into her as his body shuddered, his shout lost in the grind of a generator starting up nearby.
He stayed there for a long moment, slumped over her, both of them slick and heaving. Then he pulled out, the sound wet and obscene.
Collapsing onto the piled-up cables, he pulled her down beside him. She curled instinctively into his side, her body still trembling with aftershocks.The smell of sex was overwhelming, primal. He fumbled for a discarded towel, gritty with sand, and handed it to her wordlessly.Outside, someone shouted a name. The festival was winding down.
After a few minutes of quiet, just their breathing syncing, he spoke, his voice quiet now, introspective.“Berlin was messy. This is… different.”
She wiped herself clean, not looking at him. “Is it?”
He lit a cigarette, the flare of the match illuminating the sharp planes of his face.“Yeah.It is. ‘Cause in Berlin, I just took.Here…” He trailed off, exhaling smoke. “Here you gave me something.”
She finally turned her head, resting her cheek on the vinyl. In the dim light, her expression was unreadable. “I didn’t give you a choice.”
“You had a choice when you got in the van.” He took a drag. “You have a choice now.”
She was silent for a long time.Then she sat up, pulling her shorts back on with stiff, careful movements. “We should find the others. They’ll be wondering.”
He nodded, stubbing the cigarette out on the van floor. The moment was over, the rawness receding like a tide, leaving behind a complicated, gritty residue. As she pushed the van doors open, the cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of damp grass and diesel. He watched her small frame silhouetted against the chaotic, colored lights, the girl who commanded thousands with a flick of a fader, who took his dick deeper than anyone else, and who now walked away from him without a backward glance.
He followed, the buzz in his veins replaced by a familiar, restless static.The night wasn’t over. The rhythm never stopped. And she, he was beginning to understand, was a track he hadn’t yet learned to mix.