a The Fast and the Furious story

by dirty diana

for the firstlines1000 challenge, "Bob is fucking dead".

Brian is fucking dead. The knowledge pulses in the back of his brain, bringing with it a surge of energy, the weightlessness that comes with knowing that this is it. End of the line, O'Conner. 

He recognises the feeling because he has been here before. Felt it in more races than he can count. Been here that time he lost his board, got dragged underneath a wave, heavy and drowning, off the coast of Mexico. Been here that time he had a shotgun pressed to the back of his head, cold hard steel and Dom's dark eyes threatening to blow him apart.

End of the line, O'Conner. He can feel the steering wheel trembling beneath his hands as the car spun out of control. Tires squealing, high-pitched noise matching the sound of sirens that he is hearing in his head. The end of the line, needle nudging one hundred fifty miles an hour. Fifteen seconds, more or less, till his front fender hits brick and concrete. Fourteen seconds. Thirteen.

He doesn't remember hitting the brakes. He doesn't remember hitting the wall. Only getting out of the car, dazed. Grinning.

"OhmyGodBrianheyBrianthatwasfuckingcloseBrianareyouallright?" The words blur together just like the people speaking them. Only one voice comes through loud and clear.

"Will y'all back the fuck up? Give my man some room to breathe."

The throng clears, just like that. Brian looks up, sees Rome smiling at him, and bursts into cold hard laughter. Because that's how close you come, sometimes.

He lets Rome take him home. The boat is rocking hard tonight, underneath his feet, or maybe it's just that the blood is rushing too fast through his veins. Rome opens the door and guides him inside.

"I told you not to race that insane motherfucker." Relieved and pissed off sound exactly the same on Rome, the volume just a notch too loud.


"I told you. You fucking crazy-ass white boy."

"Shut up," Brian whispers, because he just walked away from a wrecked car, and he can't figure out why Rome is still talking.

"Yeah," Rome answers, and then they're kissing, hard, the familiar sweet press of Rome's mouth on his.

Rome's fingers touch Brian's smooth tanned back, pushing at the hem of his shirt. His own hands, reaching around to pull Rome closer, hands grabbing his ass, his palms cruising roughly over the pockets of Rome's jeans, squeezing hard.

It's still there, the weightlessness, making him cold and hot at the same time, making him high, pushing all words out of his lightning-charged brain except one. Now.


Now, now, now, now, now.

He doesn't realise that he's saying it out loud until Rome shuts him up with another kiss. Tongue pushing into his mouth, finding a rhythm, and Brian knows that he must taste like electricity, a hard shock of adrenaline.

He pushes Rome onto the bed, Rome falling backwards with a grin because he knows the drill. His eyes follow Brian's movements as he strips the clothes from long tanned limbs. Brian straddles him, pulling off Rome's t-shirt as his hands roam over smooth dark muscle, teasing, marking, claiming. 

Rome groans out loud, pushed his hips up off the bed so that Brian can undo his jeans and pull them down, over strong hard thighs.

"Crazy," Rome whispers, his breath hot in Brian's ear.

"Now," Brian answers desperately, and then they're kissing again, bodies pressed close, grinding together, almost thrusting, erections hard and straining.

Brian reaches underneath the bed for the half-used bottle of lube. The he sits up, his weight on the top of Rome's thighs. 

He squeezes a dollop of the greasy contents into his hand, rubs his hand slickly over Rome's cock. Rome breathes in heavily and thrusts his hips sharply upwards.

Brian spreads the lube over Rome's outstretched fingers. Rome's hands move down Brian's back, over his ass, leaving bright streaks of sheen on golden skin. Brian groans in anticipation, and then Rome's fingers slip into him. He's rocking back and forth, barely moving, as Rome's fingers split him apart.

He's holding onto Rome with slippery hands. The two of them are slippery all over, skin sliding against skin, as he guides himself onto Rome's cock.

He moves, just a little bit, just a little bit more, and then Rome is fucking him and he's moaning out loud and can't stop. His hands reach for Rome's, fingers intertwined. Brian arches his back and licks his lips to let Rome know, yeah, that's it, right there, just like that.

Now. Don't stop.

Rome's hips move upwards again, again and again. Brian is moving with him, knows he's close, and then Rome thrusts one last time and falls over the edge. Brian's hands slide over his own cock, pulling, jerking. And then he's gone too, coming hard and loud, shaking and breathless.

Later they take a shower. Brian likes the water just a little too hot, steam rising like clouds off his skin. He's shivering now, and knows that he's coming down. He says, "Dude, I loved that car."

"I know," Rome answers, and kisses him. Rome is hot, like the water that's pouring into his mouth. Brian inhales the taste and Rome kisses him, kisses him hard and doesn't say anything else.

Because that's how close you come, sometimes.