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“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess she drives like a dream?”
“You don’t drive a Shelby Cobra, Piers, you pilot her.”
“My mistake.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Chris slid a hand across the car’s sparkling hood, caressing the smooth blue and white bodywork of his first true love. He imagined the powerful eight cylinder beneath that hood and he swore he could hear it roar to life in his mind. His fingers itched to turn keys that weren’t there, to feel that powerful-but-subtle shuddering of her through thick vinyl seats, his scalp tingled at the faint memory of the wind in his hair as he took smooth corners at speeds very much illegal….
“Chris.”
Right. Someone was talking to him.
He glanced at Piers briefly to let him know he was still with him.
“You’re going to buy her, aren’t you.”
“God knows I want to.”
“You should go for it. It’s only a mere—“ Piers leaned over to check out the price on the tiny display stand. The number was bolded, but purposefully small compared to the rest of the information provided about the vehicle. “Eight hundred ninety bucks a month…”
If Chris registered his sarcasm, he didn’t let it show.
“Yeah. No, it’s a good idea.” Chris disappeared behind the vehicle, and Piers chuckled to himself, kneeling to examine the underside of the car with him.
“Leaf spring suspension?” he guessed. That was surprising considering the medieval era spring system was saved mostly for modern day trucks, buses and other heavy vehicles.
“Parabolic. Less leaves.” Chris answered, his face pressed against the cold floor, brown eyes scanning the intricacies of the frame like it was the most beautiful thing.
Piers knew a thing or two about suspension. “You know they make knives out of leaf spring scraps in some countries. Blacksmiths in places like Napal and Paskistan do it because the steel used is too high quality to waste.”
“I did not know that.” Chris admitted, reaching out to touch the metal vine curved from wheel to axel. “They’ve got more flexibility than the standard leaf. I know that much.”
“It’s all about ride quality.” Piers grinned. “Shelby’s got a heavy engine then. Low to the ground. A Vee…Eight. Am I right?”
“The hot-rodder staple.” Chris sounded proud. Like he’d had a say in such superior design. “Shelby’s twenty-five hundred pounds of raw supremacy, Piers. Zero to sixty in under four seconds. You should feel her fly.”
Piers loved this Chris. The big-kid-in-the-toy-store Chris. Even this man, for all his recent seriousness and solemnity was transformed into a giddy fan boy when it came to window shopping for super cars. It was a trait they shared.
“Check out the seats.” Chris encouraged once they got up off the floor.
“Feels vinyl to me. The tan is a nice touch.”
“Yeah,” Chris smoothed a hand over the stitched wave pattern of the driver’s seat. “My Cobra had a black leather interior, but the design’s the same. Just like a race car. Seats sit deep and comfortable, but with solid bolster support so you don’t get knocked around.”
“Nice.” Piers mused, moving to his partner’s side to glide his own fingers across the sleek metal fleck blue bodywork of the car door. It definitely was nice for a muscle car. A little old looking for his taste, a little too rounded, but Piers could appreciate its functional beauty and heritage as a race car. “This fiberglass?”
“Yeah, this is a Collector Car replica, but you can still find a few out there with the carbon-fiber and alumin--”
“You wanna take it for a spin?” A third voice surprised them from behind.
Chris and Piers turned to the man in the three-piece suit holding a pen and clipboard. The man gestured to the shining sports car and dangled the pen in front of Chris with an all-knowing smile. “Sign the paperwork and she’s all yours.”
“Naw, don’t tempt me.” Chris shied away from the clipboard.
Piers took the pen. “I’ll do it.”
Surprised, Chris watched Piers pull out his driver’s license and fill in the waiver in his place. When Piers scribbled his signature at the bottom of the form the man took the pen back and tucked it behind his ear with an even wider grin than before.
“Try not to enjoy it too much, gentlemen.”
Piers caught the key that was tossed his way with one hand.
“No promises, amigo.”
Piers sent a playful punch Chris’ way once the man’s back was turned.
Chris returned the gesture, causing the ace to flinch and almost lose his balance at the unintentional power behind the shoulder shot. Chris hopped over the door into the passenger’s seat a sparkle of excitement in his eyes as he scanned the many dashboard controls. The car may have been upgraded with air conditioning and an MP3 plug in, but she still looked like a racing car on the inside.
“You ready for this?” Piers asked, his hand ready to turn the key in the ignition.
Chris smirked and leaned back in his seat. “Are you?” He looked like he knew something Piers didn’t and the younger man snorted at that.
The engine roared to life and Piers sunk back in his seat like his partner, gripping the polished wood of the steering wheel with both hands. It was a nice change up from the usual feel. Piers gave the dashboard a once over and glanced back up to his partner.
Chris had his eyes closed. He was relishing the gurgling rumble of a wild machine built for the open road. Piers couldn’t help but feel he’d made the right decision to get him out of the house today.
The sales rep with the clipboard ushered the Cobra down the middle of the showcase lineup and Piers followed him leisurely, noticing how responsive the car was to the feather light pressure of his foot. You pilot her, Chris had said. He really did get the sense that they were being taxied to the runway. They rolled through a pair of oversized electronically sliding glass doors and Piers wondered if this was the only car of it’s make on the lot since it wasn’t typical to drive a show car right out the front doors of a dealership like this.
“She feels smaller than I remember.” Chris was saying once they were out on the road.
Piers flicked the turn signal and made a sharp turn onto the highway. “You’ve just gotten bigger.”
That earned him a smug look from his partner from beneath his aviators.
“Got that right.”
Chris grabbed Piers’ free hand and pulled it between his legs.
“Oh baby-! Is that for me or her?” the ace laughed, feeling just how much bigger his partner had gotten since they’d gotten in the car.
"...How do you feel about sharing?”
Instead of answering him, Piers pulled Chris’ hand over to his side, pressing the bigger man’s palm up tight against a comparable erection of his own.
“Shelby has that effect!” Chris laughed and squeezed him, causing Piers to lay his foot down heavy at the feeling and catch up to the vehicle ahead of them in a blink. Without moving Chris’ hand from it’s place between his thighs, Piers checked over his shoulder and jumped lanes to pass the car in front of them at just over eighty miles per hour.
To his dismay there were two other cars ahead of the one they were passing and both were too close to one another for the Cobra to fit between.
He looked to Chris, who nodded his approval. “Open ‘er up!” He encouraged, holding onto the heavy duty ‘X’ pattern seat belt holding him in place like he was ready for some G force.
Piers gunned it, reaching well over one hundred miles per hour in a shocking three seconds. Like a hot rod in a drag race, the Cobra tore up the road, two-thousand five-hundred pounds of shimmering magnificence chewed up the distance between them and oncoming traffic.
Chris had never looked happier and Piers loved that he trusted his driving wholeheartedly. That, or his partner was speed drunk and it didn’t matter to him who was behind the wheel right now.
Sharp hazel eyes narrowed, taking in the road and the obstacles ahead; calculating speed and distance effortlessly as the inertia pressed both men hard into their seats. Piers gripped the steering wheel tight with both hands and sent them soaring past the last car in their way. Oncoming traffic wasn’t a problem anymore, as the Cobra snuck back into her own lane just in time to give the driver of the car coming toward them a heart attack. It was reckless and extremely dangerous to do, but most of what they did on a regular basis was. Piers almost felt sorry for the guy in the other car. Almost.
The sniper howled out into the open air and Chris joined him hollering and whooping at the clear blue sky from the sheer thrill of it. Moments like this were hard to come by, and this was exactly what they lived for.
“One fifty fuck’n miles per hour!” An exhilarated Piers squeezed the hand still between his legs enthusiastically. Chris had been holding onto him through his pants the entire time, feeling exactly just how much the sniper accelerated with the speedometer.
Chris didn’t look disappointed in the slightest. “I actually expected you to push her to the limit,” he admitted over the whipping wind. “You held back.”
Piers slowed to a much more legal pace and checked his rear view mirror. The cars they’d passed were mere specks on the horizon now. Their drivers probably too intimidated to keep up, or even try to.
“I would if this was your car.”
Chris leaned back and slung an arm over the side of the car, blades of his thick dark hair flicking in the wind. The idea that Piers could picture him with a Shelby Cobra of his own made him grin. If only Piers had been around when he did have one. It felt like a lifetime ago. And then all of the Umbrella shit went down. Oh to have some of those years back….
Piers concentrated on the road, busying himself with finding a good place to turn around. There was a smirk on his lips though.
They drove in silence for a while, listening to the deep steady growl of Shelby eating up the open road. When it came time to return to civilization and the dealership was in sight, Chris spoke up.
“Thanks for doing this.”
Piers gave him a warm smile. “I should be thanking you.”
“For what?”
“For feeding my need for speed.”
Chris chuckled at that. He placed a small kiss on the back of Piers’ free hand, bringing it up to his lips and making the younger man beam as they pulled into the dealership.
“I’ve got something else for you if you’re still hungry…” Chris added suggestively once they slowed to a rumbling stop. No amount of denim could hope to hide what Chris was offering after that little joy ride.
Piers whistled at the tempting offer, looking anywhere but at the man who excited him like no machine ever could.
The salesman from earlier spotted the bright blue of the Cobra and greeted the pair with an expectant smile. “Well?”
Piers reached over to steal Chris’ sunglasses and put them on himself before turning to the salesman coolly.
“You got anything faster?”
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