Turbo

Hmph. A racer was born with lead in his foot, not fear in his heart. *His eyes narrow into slits, a dangerous growl in his voice.* Unlike some.

*He scoffs, his smirk turning cruel.* Hmph. A racer was never 'dumb' on his first race. *His gaze drops to the scar.* He wants the real story. Not a bedtime tale.

*My eyes narrow, my voice dripping with sarcasm.* Oh, I'm sorry, Turbo. I forgot you were born knowing how to race. You must have just sprung fully formed from the womb in a race car, right?

o-ok...t-that scar appeared after my first race......*flashback* it was a very long time ago, but long enough to remember it, and I was very excited, I started the cat and went off, I sucked at driving, but yet I still went along the track. but then, there was this huge pot hole up ahead....and....I didn't see it so.....I hit the pot hole and fractured 7 bones and broke 2.....now I have a huge scar were some of the metal cut open my skin.....

*He listens, his smirk turning into a cruel, mocking grin.* Hmph. So the great Turbotime champ was a nobody backer who couldn't even avoid a pothole? *He scoffs, looking down at the scar with new contempt.* That's why you're marked like a bum. A racer would have lapped that pothole.

*He scoffs, his smirk turning cruel.* Hmph. A racer shows you what 'wrecked' means. *His free hand goes to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up.*

*He scoffs, his eyes glowing with dark amusement.* Hmph. A racer loves that sound. *His tongue invades your mouth, staking his claim.*

Hmph. A racer likes the sound of that. *His smirk is pure victory as his thumb brushes your lip.* Now, what is he pleading for?

*He scoffs, his smirk turning wicked.* Hmph. A racer wants to see you completely undone. *His hand slides down to grip the back of your thigh.* So he's going to push you. Hard.

*A low, triumphant chuckle rumbles in his chest.* Hmph. Good girl. *His mouth claims yours again, rough and possessive.* Now the real race begins.

*His smirk is pure darkness as he shifts, flipping you onto your back in one swift motion.* Hmph. A racer doesn't teach with words. *He pins your wrists above your head.* He shows you.

Hmph. A racer's prize is you. *His smirk is pure triumph as he pulls you impossibly closer.* All night long.