Traffic

Cyrus First Person Point Of view

I gritted my teeth, straining to keep my grip on him, my whole body stretched tight as the strange feeling of motorbike beneath me overwhelmed my senses.

Derick must have seen, because he presently slowed the motorcycle onto the shoulder of the road, the deafening din slowly receding into stillness.

I breathed in deep, ragged gasps, my chest heaving and my heart pounding. My hands shook, and there appeared to be a tight band tightening around my chest. Never had I been on a motorcycle, and never had anyone pressed so intimately against me.

"Hey," his voice cut through my terror, firm and calm. He moved in close to me, his arms tight around my waist and lifting me off the bike.

I stumbled a bit, recovering my balance as my feet hit the ground, but quickly had Derick's strong hands supporting me, holding onto my waist.

I raised my eyes to his, holding my breath for a moment as our eyes met. His gaze was piercing, but deep within it lay a gentleness, something I had never seen.

"Are you all right?" His tone was firm, almost an order to respond rather than a simple inquiry.

"I-I'm alright," I stammered, though my quivering voice betrayed my words.

"You are shaking," he said sternly, his razor-sharp eyes scanning me. He switched to a gruff, more commanding voice and said, "Move ahead."

I blinked, confused. "W-what?"

"Yes, you heard me," Derick said, his voice softening slightly to maintain its firm quality.

"You're in the front seat now. I'll handle the bike, just hold on."

I hesitated for a second, but there was no space for argument. With a firm hand, Derick led me to stand in front of him on the bike.

Every muscle in my body tensed at the pressure of his chest against my spine, his firm, athletic physique embracing me fully.

I could feel his breath on my neck, the heat of him surrounding me entirely.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice deeper and more intimate.

He leaned closer, his arms around me as his hands tightly held the handlebars. I stood awkwardly beside him, feeling unbearably small in the shadow of his giant frame.

"Grasp my arm," he told me.

I hesitated for a moment before reaching for his arm, gripping it.

His biceps were firm under my fingers, and when he pushed the bike out onto the road, his arm muscles tensed slightly.

His hug, his perfume, all of his presence made me feel tiny.

When we stopped for the red light, an oppressive quiet surrounded us. A warm blush spread to my cheeks, and automatically, my head dropped, hiding my face in my hands.

I was completely exposed, as if there was no hiding from the vulnerability that surrounded me at that moment.

"Relax," Derick encouraged, his voice gentle but firm.

"You're fine."

I couldn't make myself look up, my cheeks burning with the realization of just how close we had gotten.

His warm breath, soft and gentle, caressed my cheek, and his chest rose and fell in a constant rhythm with each inhale and exhale.

"Where are you staying?" he asked, his lips whispering intimately near my ear. The inquiry made shivers run down my spine.

I swallowed hard, struggling to get my voice back. "J-just a few streets from last night," I finally stammered.

"Where, precisely?" he asked, taking a step nearer, his large frame looming over me.

I gave him instructions, my own voice weak and laced with doubt.

Derick didn't respond immediately, but I could feel him smirking, like he knew how flustered I was.

He jerked the handlebars hard when he took the curve on the bike.

I yelped, gripping his arm tightly. His deep chuckle rumbled through me as he steadied the bike, his grip on my waist tightening.

His fingers dipped deep into my belly and held firm.

With each touch, the proximity between us stirred up new emotions in me.

As we were nearing my home, my heart started to race, driven by a sensation quite unique.

He helped me off the bicycle, his own balance shifting uncertainly as I fought to get my bearings.

"Thank you," I whispered, already turning to rush in, when Derick called out to me.

"Cyrus." His voice was firm.

"Look at me when im talking to you." I stopped and slowly turned to face his eyes again.

He leaned against the bike, arms crossed across his wide chest, eyes fixed upon mine.

"Don't run off like that," he said, his tone lighter and slightly still dominant.