Hitchhike//A DreamNotFound Fanfiction

15|And I Love You|

The ride had stayed tense and soundless.

Except the intensity was in the best way possible.

The adrenaline and passion burning inside of their chests was fueling their side-eyed gazes and smirks as George continued to hit the road in an indiscernible direction. They both didn't really seem to mind the randomness whatsoever, just so long as they were further and further away from their heavy-hearted past. They were leaving it in the rearview mirrors to fix itself with no intentions of coming back to the fucked mess they left. That was for their past selves to deal with; for now, George and Clay were focused on their future together--this is what they both craved more than anything. They craved their capacity for lust and hungered for even more and more; something to take them even further and deeper into what they already had. They were living off of the high of being so impulsive and arduous with each other. They had to keep going.

Clay's hand tested the waters in a brazen notion as it grazed up and down anxiously on the inside of George's thigh; he chuckled lowly when he felt the brunette shiver and shift under his touch. Of course, George himself thrived for that connection. Honestly, he thrived for even more; Clay teasing him like that only made the desire to pull over the car and reconnect their lips into a sloppy-yet-heated make out session even greater.

George felt like a rebellious teenager once again; his head was dizzy from the possibility of getting caught, but his heart was filled with so much optimism that it would never happen. That him and Clay would slip through trouble unscathed. He would've called that just wishful thinking once before, but in the current moment he was close to believing it was fact. He was driving Wilbur's car down a random backroad, hitting top speeds of seventy while his partner in crime kept him most welcome company. Oh God, was his heart going to explode. It was all so much but yet he still wanted more and more. He was being so fucking selfish for once in his life, and yet it was one of the most addicting, sensory-pleasing events he could've ever experienced.

As for Clay, he was in the same boat as George. He didn't seem to care at all that he was defying Wilbur's wishes and commands. For the moment being, he was thriving off of pure adrenaline alone as it coursed like spice through his veins. His eyes drifted over to George more often than not as they rested along his face. Oh, what he wouldn't give to kiss his lips and tease his perfect skin; the slight shudders from George was already enough to drive Clay absolutely wild. He needed this. He needed to be here, running away with George for his own good. He finally needed to be selfish and live off of only a high with the only person who ever showed him true love and compassion. Someone that Clay had only ever felt feverish passion for within the deep chambers of his heart.

Just to try and cure some of his anxious tendencies, Clay slid the half-full pack of cigarettes out of the center console, grabbing a lighter from the same area. His slender fingers wrapped around the bright orange filter of a cigarette, using the other hand to simultaneously flick the neon green lighter for the purpose of igniting a perfect flame. Clay brought the filter to his lips, snugly grasping the end with the middle of his rose-tinted lips. He brought the flame to the end, allowing the filter paper to catch fire before he let go of the lever to the lighter, leaving only the cigarette to burn it's familiar bright orange hue.

George noticed it--and mostly just to keep a conversation--pointed out, "I didn't think Wilbur would be the type to let you smoke inside his car. This thing looks pristine."

Clay pulled the end of the cigarette from his chapped lips and responded, "Well, it's my car now, and I don't give a fuck whether he said I was allowed to smoke or not. He's a fucking asshole, anyways."

George furrowed his brows, rather confused as to why he saw Clay all over Wilbur just earlier that day. He leaned into Wilbur's side and allowed the taller brunette to kiss him. Now that he was thinking about it, the memory still made him a tiny bit jealous to think about--it should've been him kissing Clay. No one else.