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Author's Chapter Notes:
disclaimer: rob cohen, etc.
author: Shisaiyan, in a series co-written with Carla
series: follows "memory in blood, sweat, oil"
I'm not Dom. She'll never let me forget it, never let any of us. She uses us, fucks us and plays with us, but we still stick around, an odd group of five or so that Letty parties with, races with, sleeps with on occaision. It's not a relationship of any kind, there's no nice words, or even a pretense of feelings. There's sweat and sex and grease and cars and that's it.

She fucks hard and long, always with her eyes closed, her fists clenched on my chest, never looking at me, never speaking, except to give orders in a hoarse, throaty voice, "Harder," or "Deeper", but not my name. There's another name on her lips, even though she never says it out loud, another face in her mind, another body beneath her. Behind those closed eyes is another place and time. All of us know it, none of us speak of it. We stay, knowing it isn't us she wants, but unable to leave. She's like a drug, addicting. She's pushy and mean and sexy as hell and I can't get enough of her.

So I ignore it when she closes her eyes, when she bites her lip as she comes to keep from screaming a name that isn't mine. I try not to listen at night, when she whimpers in her sleep. That's the only time she's ever weak, when she's dreaming. I refuse to see what she's seeing when she stops working for a minute, wiping her arm and streaks of grease across her face, when she lets the tools hang loosely in her hands and leans on the car, staring into the engine, but not seeing the metal and grease.

I'm not Dominic. I'm not a racing god. I'm not her god. None of us are. And she'll never let us forget.


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