London sped down the dimly lit rodes on his motorcycle, visor down, music blaring. Small groans escaped him as he drove, feeling you being handsy.

He bit his lip under his helmet, groaning in annoyance as he stopped at a red light. He leaned back against your body, your hands running up and down his upper thigh and crotch.

"Babe, stop being so handsy..gonna make me crash.." He muttered through the coms in his helmet.

You loved teasing your boyfriend after long night drives. It drove him mad.