Page 23 of Grease & Grips
There’s no thinking now. Only the dizzying, terrifying truth of how much I want to stay here buried inside him. How much I want to keep being wanted. How good it feels to be pulled in instead of pushed away.
“I’m not gonna last,” he breathes, voice ragged as I piston into him, our rhythm turning even more frantic. “I need you to cum.”
It won’t take much. I’m already teetering close to the edge.
Our mouths crash together and I swallow the moan that breaks free from his throat. The pressure coils tight at the base of my spine, heat racing through me like I touched an open flame. My whole body locks up as my balls draw in tight. I cry out into the kiss as I spill into the condom buried deep inside him.
His whimpers go sharp and guttural, breaking into something coarse as he cums between us. Sticky warmth spreads across our stomachs. Sweat and cum mingle, making every movement unsteady as our hips stutter still riding the last of our orgasms clinging to each other in the aftershock.
Chest heaving, I slump on top of him and he pants beneath me.
“That really revved my engine,” he says through a laugh.
A groan escapes as I lift my head enough to squint at him. “Car puns? Really?”
His brow furrows as he nods. “Motor oil is currently running down my ass. Feels appropriate.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, actually.” One hand pats at my shoulder. “Kind of feel good as new. Ask me again in 10,000 miles when I come back for a check-up.”
Another groan. Louder this time.
“What,” he asks, all faux innocence. “Triple A would’ve never given me that kind of service.”
I roll my eyes. “God, you’re lucky you’re hot.”
“If that was the tune-up,” he murmurs, “can’t wait for the full overhaul.”
“You’re not allowed to talk for at least an hour.”
He leans in an whispers against my lips. “Round two’s got warranty coverage.”
God help me… I’m gonna die happy and sore.
7
Not sure when we fell asleep, but when morning light starts to slant through the garage window, dust catching in the beams, I open my eyes to find Andrés still asleep slumped against me on that nasty old couch. Peaceful in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been.
Feels like if I stay real still, this won’t end. But I know better. I know I gotta get up, fix his car, and send him back to whatever big life he came from. The one that’s full of movement and ambition and people who say yes without flinching. A life that doesn’t have space for a guy who smells like motor oil and doesn’t know how to smile right.
Still… as much as that voice in my head tries to ruin this, I shove it down.
“You’re the loudest quiet person I’ve ever met,” Andrés mumbles against my chest, his voice laced with sleep.
“Huh?”
“Your thoughts,” he says, lifting his head to blink up at me. “Woke me up.”
“Sorry for thinkin’,” I shoot back as I steal a kiss.
He smirks, eyes scanning the garage. “What time’s this place open?”
“Eight. Guys start tricklin’ in around seven-thirty.”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost seven.”
