Work Text:
"You can't piss for free in this town anymore," the man muttered, digging in his pockets for change as he pushed through the gas station door.
The bell above jangled, too loud, like everything else these days. His boots left faint grease marks on the linoleum, the kind that'd smear if you rubbed at them. Second shift at the auto shop always left him wired, his muscles humming with unused energy even after the shower in the employee locker room.
The bathroom smelled like industrial cleaner and something sour underneath. Flickering fluorescents buzzed overhead as he locked himself in the far stall. His fingers were already working open his belt before he sat down, calloused hands rough against his own skin. It wasn't about thinking, just pressure, release, the sharp inhale through his nose when he gripped himself.
Next stall over, the door creaked open. Light footsteps, too light for work boots. Then the click of another lock. He froze mid-stroke listening to the rustle of jeans and boxers being pushed down, the soft gasp when the kid, had to be a kid, started touching himself. The man bit his lip, turned his head toward the thin partition between them. Could practically hear spit being slicked over skin.
He tapped his boot against the tile. Once. Twice. The movement in the next stall hitched, then paused. A whispered "Fuck..." Then answering taps, hesitant, but there. The man spat into his palm and reached under the divider. His fingers brushed warm skin, sticky with pre-cum. The kid’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.
"Easy," the man murmured.
His grip tightened, not too rough, just enough to make the kid whimper. He worked him slow at first, thumb smearing wetness around the head with each stroke. The stall divider rattled as the kid’s hips bucked forward.
"That’s it," the man growled, speeding up.
The kid’s cock throbbed in his hand, hot and leaking. He could smell him, clean sweat, cheap soap, the sharp tang of teenage arousal.
A choked-off moan slipped past the kid’s lips. The man grinned, imagining his face, flushed, mouth open, probably biting his own fist to stay quiet. He dragged his thumb over the slit again, savoring the jerk of the kid’s thighs.
"You close?" he breathed, barely louder than the creak of the stalls.
A frantic nod, then fingers suddenly clutching at his wrist, trembling.
"Yeah, okay," the man soothed.
He twisted his grip, rubbed just under the head with his calloused fingertips, the way he liked it himself.
The kid shuddered hard, then yanked back. The man’s hand came back empty, slick and glistening under the flickering lights. For a second, he just stared at it. Silence. Then fabric rustling next door, the hitch of a belt buckle. He wiped his palm on his thigh, listening. The kid’s footsteps were unsteady, sneakers scuffing the tile. Then a knock, so soft he almost missed it, right against the stall door.
"Yeah?" the man asked, low.
The door creaked open just enough for the kid to slip inside, lean, maybe sixteen, with dark hair damp at the temples and a flush creeping down his neck. His jeans were still unbuttoned, hanging loose on his hips. The man spread his knees wider without thinking, making space between them. The kid’s gaze flicked down, then back up, tongue darting over his lips.
"Didn’t—didn’t get to finish," the kid mumbled, fingers twitching at his sides.
Up close, he smelled like Axe body spray and nervous sweat.
The man huffed a quiet laugh, wiping his palm clean on his shirt before nodding toward his own cock, still hard against his thigh.
"Guess we’re both kinda stuck, huh?" His voice came out rougher than he meant it to, but the kid didn’t flinch.
Just swallowed hard, eyes locked on the thick curve of him.
The kid’s fingers twitched again, then slowly reached out, hovering like he wasn’t sure where to touch first. The man caught his wrist, gentle, no grip, and guided his hand down.
"Like this," he murmured, letting the kid’s fingers brush over his shaft, the heat of him.
The kid’s breath hitched, but his grip firmed up, clumsy but eager.
"Fuck, you’re big," the kid blurted, then flushed darker, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
The man chuckled, low and warm, shifting to give him better access. The kid’s palm was damp, his strokes uneven, but the way his eyes stayed glued to the man’s cock, like he’d never seen one up close, sent a jolt straight to his gut.
"Easy," the man murmured again, guiding the kid’s hand with his own, showing him the rhythm.
"Less death grip, more—yeah, like that."
The kid’s fingers loosened, his touch smoothing out, and the man groaned softly when the kid’s thumb swiped over the head, smearing pre-cum down the length.
"Christ, you’re a quick learner."
The kid’s lips parted, his breath coming faster as he watched the man’s hips jerk into his fist.
"Do you—" He swallowed hard, licking his lips again. "Want me to use my mouth?"
The man exhaled sharply, his cock twitching at the thought. "You don’t gotta—"
"I want to," the kid interrupted, voice steadier now, eyes flicking up to meet his.
There was a raw hunger there that made the man’s pulse spike. Before he could answer, the kid was sinking to his knees between the man’s spread legs, the linoleum cold under his jeans. The man’s fingers tangled in the kid’s hair, not pushing, just holding, as warm breath ghosted over his cock.
The first lick was tentative, just a swipe of the kid’s tongue along the underside, but the way his eyes fluttered shut told the man he was savoring it.
"Fuck," the man hissed, hips twitching upward as the kid’s lips finally closed around him, taking just the head into his mouth.
He was hot, wet, and clumsy, teeth grazing slightly, but the eager noises he made, the way his throat worked around each inch he took deeper, sent sparks up the man’s spine.
"Good—Christ, good boy," the man groaned, fingers tightening just enough in the kid’s hair to guide, not force.
The kid whimpered around him, the vibration making the man’s thighs tense. He could feel the kid’s own cock straining against his jeans, pressing into the man’s boot, and the thought of him getting off just from this, from sucking some stranger’s dick in a gas station bathroom, nearly undid him.
The kid pulled off with a wet pop, lips slick and swollen, pupils blown wide.
"Fuck, you taste—" He didn’t finish, just dove back in, taking him deeper this time, throat working around the intrusion.
The man gritted his teeth, hips jerking up involuntarily as the kid’s nose pressed into his pubes.
"Shit—easy, kid," the man rasped, but the kid didn’t stop, just hummed around him, hands gripping the man’s thighs for balance.
The vibrations sent sparks up his spine, the tight heat of the kid’s mouth almost too much. He could feel the kid’s own cock twitching against his boot through the denim, could smell the sharp musk of him, desperate and eager.
The man tugged gently at the kid’s hair, pulling him back just enough to see his face, lips slick and red, chin wet with spit, eyes glassy with want.
"You’re gonna make me come," he warned, thumb brushing the kid’s cheekbone.
The kid just licked his lips and sank back down, taking him deeper, throat fluttering around the head.
The man groaned, hips jerking up as he felt the pressure building.
"Fuck—yeah, just like that," he gritted out, fingers tightening in the kid’s hair.
He could feel the kid’s own breath hitching, his cock grinding against the man’s boot in frantic little thrusts. The realization that the kid was getting off just from sucking him sent a jolt through him.
"You close, huh? Getting off on this?" he murmured, voice rough. The kid whimpered around him, nodding frantically, lips stretched tight.
The man tugged him off again, ignoring the protesting noise the kid made.
"Here," he rasped, guiding the kid’s hand back to his own cock. "Do it—let me see you."
The kid’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself. His cock was flushed dark, leaking against his stomach. The man watched, transfixed, as the kid stroked himself in quick, jerky motions, his other hand still gripping the man’s thigh for balance.
"Fuck, look at you," the man growled, spreading his legs wider.
The kid’s breathing hitched, his strokes turning frantic, pre-cum slicking his fingers. The man reached down, wrapping his own hand over the kid’s, guiding him into a slower rhythm.
"Not yet," he murmured, squeezing just enough to make the kid whimper.
"Make it last." The kid’s hips bucked into their joined grip, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp.
The man leaned back against the stall wall, watching the kid’s face twist with pleasure. His own cock throbbed against his thigh, untouched now, but the sight of the kid coming apart was almost enough. He dragged his thumb over the kid’s slit, smearing wetness down his shaft.
"You like this?" he asked, low and rough. The kid nodded frantically, his thighs trembling.
"Yeah? Getting off with some stranger’s hand on you?" Another nod, this time with a choked moan.
The man slowed his strokes, just to watch the kid squirm.
"You ever fucked anyone?" The question came out gravel-rough, halfway between curiosity and something darker. The kid’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on the man’s thigh.
"N-no," he admitted, voice cracking. "Just—just hands. Mouth."
His hips jerked up into the man’s fist, desperate. "Fuck, I wanna—"
"Shh," the man murmured, twisting his grip just under the kid’s crown, thumb pressing into the slit.
The kid’s entire body tensed, thighs quivering as his stomach clenched.
"Not yet."
He leaned in closer, close enough to smell the kid’s shampoo, the faint cigarette smoke clinging to his hoodie.
"Tell me what you think about when you jerk off," he growled against the kid’s ear.
The kid shuddered, his cock pulsing in the man’s grip.
"Fuck—dunno, just—" His voice cracked as the man’s thumb circled his tip again.
"Older guys," he blurted, hips jerking forward. "Like—like this. Hands. Bigger than me."
His admission hung between them, raw and humid in the cramped stall. The man groaned low in his throat, his own neglected cock twitching against his thigh.
"Ever think about more?" The man’s voice was gravel, rough with want. He slowed his strokes, just enough to make the kid whimper.
"More?" the kid gasped, hips jerking forward into the man’s fist.
The man leaned back against the stall wall, letting his grip loosen just enough to tease.
"Yeah," he murmured, thumb dragging a slow circle around the kid’s leaking tip.
"Ever thought about fucking someone?" He paused, letting the kid’s ragged breaths fill the silence. "Like… a grown man’s ass?"
The kid’s breath hitched, his cock twitching violently in the man’s hand.
"Fuck—yes," he admitted, voice cracking. "Just—never got the chance."
His hips jerked forward, desperate for more friction. The man chuckled darkly, tightening his grip again, thumb pressing into the slit.
"Tell me," the man growled, leaning in close enough to smell the kid’s nervous sweat. "You ever think about what it’d feel like? Sinking into someone older?"
The kid whimpered, nodding frantically, his fingers digging into the man’s thigh. The man exhaled sharply, his own neglected cock throbbing against his thigh.
"Yeah? You wanna try it?"
The kid’s breath hitched, his hips stuttering forward.
"Fuck—yeah," he gasped, voice cracking. "But I—I don’t have—"
"Raw’s better," the man interrupted, rough and low, his thumb smearing pre-cum down the kid’s shaft.
The kid shuddered, his cock twitching violently in the man’s grip.
"Feels hotter," the man continued, leaning in until his breath ghosted over the kid’s ear.
"Tighter." He dragged his thumb over the kid’s slit again, slow, deliberate. "You can feel every fucking pulse."
The kid whimpered, his thighs shaking.
The man grinned, slow and dirty, before turning around. He planted his hands against the stall wall, spreading his legs wider, giving the kid an unobstructed view of his ass, muscled from years of bending under car hoods, the faded denim stretched tight over thick thighs. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the kid’s throat bob as his eyes locked onto the curve of him.
"See somethin’ you like?" the man teased, rolling his hips back slightly, the denim pulling tighter.
The kid’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure he was allowed. The man chuckled darkly, reaching back to pop the button of his jeans.
"Go on," he murmured. "Touch."
The kid’s fingers brushed his ass tentatively at first, then firmer as he traced the curve of the man’s cheek, calloused fingertips dragging over the rough fabric of his jeans. The man groaned low in his throat when the kid’s hand slid lower, gripping his thigh with a desperation that sent heat pooling in his gut.
"Fuck—yeah," the man murmured, rolling his hips back slightly to press into the kid’s touch.
His jeans sagged around his thighs, the waistband loose where the kid had tugged them down, but the boxers stayed, too loose to hide anything, fabric gaping at the seams, riding low enough to tease the crease of his ass.
The kid’s fingers traced the outline of his boxers first, tentative strokes along the waistband like he was mapping new territory. Then he hooked his thumbs into the elastic, dragging it down inch by slow inch, revealing the darker trail of hair leading down. The man exhaled sharply when the kid’s fingers finally slid under the fabric, blunt nails scraping lightly over his skin.
"Jesus, kid," the man muttered, pushing back against the touch. The kid’s breath hitched behind him, fingers spreading him open with a reverence that made the man’s cock twitch against his thigh.
The kid slid the boxers back on, rubbing them on the mans ass, feeling around. Then a pause. Just the rasp of fingers against fabric, the kid’s chest pressed hot against his back.
"There’s—uh," the kid started, voice cracking as his thumb brushed something rough. "A hole."
The man glanced over his shoulder, catching the kid’s wide-eyed stare at the frayed tear in the cotton, right where his ass cheek met thigh. Long day at the shop, bent over engines, fabric didn’t last. The kid swallowed hard, fingertips tracing the edge of the hole like it was something holy.
"Can I—" he breathed, fingers twitching. "Can I rip it?"
A slow grin spread across the man’s face.
"Yeah," he rumbled, shifting his weight to give the kid better access. "Go ahead, tear it open."
The kid’s fingers dug into the fabric, knuckles whitening as he yanked. A sharp rip, cotton splitting seam to seam, exposing the full curve of the man’s ass. The kid exhaled sharply, his cock jerking against the man’s thigh.
"Fuck," he whispered, dragging his palms over the newly bared skin, thumbs pressing into the crease.
“Underwear turn you on, kid?”
“Fuck yeah,” he mumbled back, feeling the ripped fabric and then letting go.
The man groaned, rolling his hips back against the kid’s touch.
“Well," the man huffed, turning just enough to catch the kid’s wide-eyed stare, "first rule—spit."
He watched the kid’s throat bob as he worked up saliva, then arched an eyebrow when the kid leaned in hesitantly.
"Not there," he corrected, tapping his own bottom lip. "Here. Get it wet first."
The kid blinked, then understood, dragging his tongue over his own lips until they shone. The man nodded, guiding the kid’s head down with a firm grip on his hair, not rough, just enough to steer.
“Now,” he murmured, spreading his legs wider, “don’t just lick it like a damn lollipop.”
The kid’s breath hitched, warm against his skin.
“Flatten your tongue,” the man instructed, pressing his thumb to the kid’s chin to demonstrate the motion against his own palm.
“Like you’re lapping up melted ice cream.”
The kid exhaled shakily, then obeyed, dragging his tongue in slow, broad strokes between the man’s cheeks. The man groaned, thighs tensing as the kid’s tongue pressed deeper, wet and clumsy but eager.
“Fuck—yeah, like that,” he gritted out, fingers tightening in the kid’s hair. The kid whimpered, his nose pressed flush against the man’s skin, breath hot as he worked his tongue in tighter circles.
The man reached back, spreading himself wider with one hand, the other guiding the kid’s mouth exactly where he wanted it. The kid’s tongue flattened, lapping at his hole with more confidence now, spit dripping down his chin.
“Good boy,” the man rasped, grinding back against the kid’s face.
“Now get it nice and wet, gonna need it.”
The kid moaned against him, the vibration making the man’s thighs shake. He could feel the kid’s cock leaking against his calf, hot and sticky.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” the man growled, glancing down at the mess the kid was making against his boot.
“You gonna come just from this?” The kid whined, hips jerking forward helplessly.
“Not yet,” the man ordered, twisting to grab the kid’s wrist and yank him upright.
The kid’s lips were slick, chin glistening. The man spat into his own palm, then wrapped his fingers around the kid’s cock: tight, deliberate.
“This is what you want, huh?” He jerked him hard, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. “Some stranger’s ass?”
The kid nodded frantically, hips stuttering. “Fuck yes.” His voice cracked, hands scrambling for purchase on the man’s hips.
The man turned fully now, pressing the kid back against the stall wall, their positions reversed. He spat again into his palm, then reached behind himself, working his fingers between his own cheeks with a low groan.
“Watch,” he ordered, eyes locked on the kid’s face as he pressed the first knuckle in.
The kid’s mouth fell open, his cock twitching against his stomach. The man worked himself slow, twisting his wrist to show the stretch.
“See how it gives?” he gritted out, adding a second finger.
The kid’s breath came in ragged pants, his hands clutching at the man’s forearms.
“Your turn,” the man growled, pulling his fingers free with a wet sound.
He grabbed the kid’s hips, yanking him forward until their bare skin met. The kid’s cock pressed hot against his ass, smearing pre-cum between his cheeks. The man guided him with a firm hand, lining him up.
“Easy now,” he murmured, rolling his hips back. “Don’t just shove it in like a damn jackhammer.”
The kid whimpered, his fingers digging into the man’s waist as the head of his cock caught against his hole.
“Fuck it’s tight,” he gasped, thighs trembling.
“Breathe,” the man gritted out, pressing back slowly against the pressure.
The kid’s cock was hotter than he expected, thick where it mattered, the blunt stretch making his muscles clench instinctively.
“Yeah, just like that,” he murmured, reaching behind himself to guide the kid’s thrusts.
“Slow—ah—slow.” The kid nodded frantically, his hips jerking forward in shallow little pushes, each one sinking him deeper.
The man bit his lip, feeling the kid’s cock twitch inside him, the way his breath hitched when his balls finally pressed flush against his ass.
“Fuck,” the kid gasped, fingers digging into the man’s hips like he was afraid he’d disappear.
The man chuckled darkly, rolling his hips experimentally, savoring the kid’s choked moan.
“Feel good?” he murmured, clenching down just to watch the kid’s eyes roll back.
The kid nodded desperately, his hips jerking forward in shallow, uncertain thrusts.
“Yeah—fuck, yeah,” he panted, his cock dragging slow and thick inside him.
The man groaned, reaching back to grab a handful of the kid’s ass, urging him deeper.
“Harder,” he growled, pushing back against him. “C’mon, kid, show me what you got.”
The kid whimpered, his fingers digging into the man’s hips as he obeyed, driving forward with a rough snap of his hips. The stall rattled around them, the sound drowned out by the kid’s bitten-off moan. The man grinned, arching his back to take him deeper, the stretch burning just right.
“That’s it,” he grunted, rolling his hips to meet each thrust. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
The kid’s rhythm was uneven, too eager, too desperate, but the way his breath hitched every time he bottomed out sent heat pooling low in the man’s gut. He reached behind himself, tangling his fingers in the kid’s hair and yanking his head back.
“Look at you,” he growled, watching the kid’s throat work as he panted.
“Never had your dick this deep before, huh?” The kid shook his head frantically, his thrusts stuttering.
The man tightened around him deliberately, savoring the kid’s choked whine.
“Fuck—” the kid gasped, his fingers digging bruises into the man’s hips. “I’m gonna—ah—fuck, I can’t—”
“Hold it,” the man ordered, clenching down hard enough to make the kid’s knees buckle.
He reached back, palming the kid’s ass to steady him, fingertips pressing into lean muscle.
“Not yet.”
The kid whimpered, his cock twitching violently inside him, hips jerking in helpless little thrusts. The man twisted, catching the kid’s wrist and dragging his hand between his own legs.
“Touch me,” he rasped, guiding the kid’s fingers around his neglected cock.
“Get me off while you fuck me.”
The kid’s grip was shaky but eager, his strokes uneven as he tried to coordinate thrusting and stroking at the same time. The man groaned, sinking back onto the kid’s cock with a wet slap of skin.
“Fuck—like that,” he gritted out, rolling his hips to meet each thrust.
The kid’s breath came in ragged pants against his shoulder, his hand tightening around the man’s cock just enough to make his vision blur.
“Fuck, I can feel you, everywhere,” the kid gasped, his thrusts turning erratic.
The man could feel the kid’s cock pulsing inside him, the desperate little twitches as he fought to hold back. He reached back, grabbing a handful of the kid’s hair and yanking his head to the side, exposing the column of his throat.
“Come on,” the man growled against his ear, biting down just hard enough to make the kid yelp.
“Let go.”
The kid’s hips stuttered, his breath hitching as his cock swelled impossibly hotter inside him. The man groaned, clenching down hard as the kid came with a choked cry, his release flooding deep inside him in thick, pulsing spurts. The kid shuddered, his fingers tightening around the man’s cock in reflexive little squeezes, thumb smearing pre-cum over the head.
“Fuck, that’s it,” the man gritted out, grinding back against the kid’s twitching cock, milking him through it.
He could feel the kid’s cum leaking around him, warm and slick, as the kid whimpered against his shoulder, hips jerking weakly. The man guided the kid’s trembling hand faster along his own cock, the kid’s grip tightening in response, strokes turning smoother now that he wasn’t trying to hold back anymore.
“God—you take it so good,” the kid slurred, still buried deep inside him, his breath hot and ragged against the man’s neck.
His fingers curled tighter around the man’s shaft, twisting just right on the upstroke, thumb pressing into the slit. The man groaned, thighs shaking as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasped, rolling his hips into the kid’s grip. “Keep going.”
The kid obeyed, his strokes turning smoother now, rhythm steadier as he milked the man toward the edge. The man could feel the kid’s cum leaking out around him, warm and slick, mixing with the spit still glistening between his cheeks. The kid’s other hand slid up his stomach, fingers tracing the rough hair leading down to his cock before gripping his hip again, pulling him back onto his softening length.
“Fuck, you’re so—ah—hot inside,” the kid gasped, his voice wrecked.
The man groaned, fingers tightening in the kid’s hair as pleasure coiled tighter in his gut. The kid’s thumb circled his tip, smearing pre-cum down his shaft with a slow, deliberate twist that made his vision blur.
“Close,” the man gritted out, hips jerking forward into the kid’s fist.
The kid whimpered, pressing his forehead between the man’s shoulder blades, his breath hot against sweat-slick skin.
“Come on,” the kid urged, voice cracking. “Wanna feel you—”
The man’s orgasm ripped through him like a live wire, back arching as his cock pulsed thick ropes between them. The kid’s fingers milked him through it, stroking slower now, twisting just under the head to drag out every last spurt. The man gasped, thighs shaking as the kid pressed a lazy kiss to the small of his back, his softening cock still nestled inside him.
For a moment, all that existed was the ragged sound of their breathing and the slick heat between them. Then the kid shifted, wincing as he pulled out with a wet sound, cum dripping down the man’s thighs. The man turned, catching the kid’s wrist before he could wipe his hand on his jeans.
“Here,” he murmured, guiding the kid’s sticky fingers to his own mouth, watching the kid’s eyes go dark as he licked them clean.
The kid’s breath hitched, his cock twitching weakly at the sight. The man smirked, running his thumb over the kid’s bottom lip.
“Still got some on your chin,” he murmured before leaning in, dragging his tongue slow over the kid’s skin, tasting salt and himself.
The kid whimpered, hands clutching at the man’s waist like he couldn’t decide whether to push or pull.
The man straightened with a groan, rolling his shoulders as he reached for the crumpled paper towels by the sink. He tossed a wad at the kid, who caught it clumsily, cheeks flushing as he wiped his stomach.
“You good?” the man asked, watching the kid’s shaky hands.
The kid nodded, avoiding his eyes as he tugged his jeans up.
The man smirked, stepping closer to crowd him against the sink. He palmed the kid’s cheek, thumb swiping at a stray drop of cum near his lip.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice low. The kid’s eyes flicked up, pupils blown wide. “You did good.”
He let his hand slide down to squeeze the kid’s throat, just enough to feel his pulse jump.
“Better than good.”
The kid swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing under his fingers.
“Fuck,” he breathed, hips jerking forward like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that they were done.
The man chuckled, stepping back to yank his own jeans and ripped boxers up, the fabric clinging to his damp thighs.
Outside, the bell above the gas station door chimed, someone else coming in. The man stiffened, pressing a finger to the kid’s lips before he could speak. Footsteps shuffled past the bathroom door, then faded toward the soda coolers. The kid’s eyes went wide, his cock twitching against his zipper like the near-miss turned him on all over again.
"Easy," the man murmured, rough thumb dragging over the kid's swollen bottom lip.
He could still taste himself there, bitter and salty, when he leaned in to lick it away. The kid shuddered, fingers clutching at the man’s belt loops like he was afraid he’d float away otherwise.
"You always this jumpy after getting your dick wet?"
The boy swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing under the man’s lingering touch.
"No one’s ever—" He cut himself off, cheeks flushing darker, but the man knew what he meant.
No one had ever wrecked him like this, left him trembling against a gas station sink with his jeans half-buttoned and his knees weak.
The man smirked, tucking himself back in with practiced ease, the wet spot on his boxers clinging uncomfortably. He grabbed another wad of paper towels, wiping the mess from his thighs before tossing it into the overflowing bin.
"First time’s always the messiest," he said, watching the kid fumble with his belt.
The kid nodded mutely, fingers shaking as he buttoned his jeans. The man reached out, steadying his wrist.
"Breathe," he murmured, thumb stroking the kid’s pulse point.
Outside, the gas station attendant shouted something about pump three, the sound muffled through the thin walls.
The man stepped back, adjusting his belt with a practiced tug. He caught the kid staring at his hands, his thighs, the way his shirt clung to sweat-damp skin, and smirked.
"See somethin’ you like?" he teased, voice low enough to make the kid’s breath hitch.
The boy blinked rapidly, like he’d been caught stealing, but didn’t look away.
Outside, the gas station’s fluorescent lights buzzed like tired insects, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The man reached past the kid to grab his discarded cap from the sink, the motion making the kid flinch like he expected to be touched again. Instead, the man just settled it back on his head, the brim shadowing his eyes.
"You got a name, kid?" he asked, casual as if they hadn’t just fucked raw against a piss-stained stall.
The boy hesitated, chewing his swollen lip. "...Ethan," he finally muttered, voice still rough.
“Felix.” The mechanic nodded, tucking his wallet back into his jeans.
"You got a ride home?" the man asked, glancing at Ethan’s sneakers, scuffed at the toes, laces frayed. Ethan shook his head, fingers picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
"Bus stop’s down the road."
The man exhaled through his nose, digging his keys from his pocket. The metal jangled between them, loud in the cramped space.
"I’m headed north. That your way?"
Ethan’s throat bobbed, his eyes flicking to the door, then back; calculating risks, weighing odds. The man waited, patient as a rusted bolt finally giving way to oil.
"Yeah," Ethan breathed finally, shoulders loosening. "North."
The man smirked, nudging the door open with his boot. The lights buzzed overhead, bleaching everything stark. Ethan hesitated on the threshold, suddenly awkward in the harsh light, like he wasn’t sure how to exist outside the dim stall where they’d pressed together.
The man clapped him on the shoulder, firm, but not unkind.
"C’mon, kid. Sun’s going down."
Ethan blinked up at the orange-streaked sky, then fell into step beside him, their shadows stretching long across the cracked pavement.
The truck’s door creaked when the man yanked it open, the vinyl seat scorching from a day in the sun. Ethan climbed in without being told, his sneakers scraping gravel. The man cranked the engine, the radio crackling to life halfway through some twangy country song. He left it playing.
Ethan stared straight ahead, fingers tapping restless on his knees. The man reached across the console, catching his wrist mid-fidget.
"Relax," he said, thumb smoothing over Ethan’s racing pulse. "Just a ride."
Ethan swallowed hard, then nodded, settling back against the seat. The truck rumbled forward, tires crunching over broken glass as they pulled onto the highway. The gas station shrank in the rearview mirror, just another blur of neon in the gathering dark.
The man drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing sideways at Ethan’s profile. The kid’s lips were still red from earlier, his throat dotted with faint bruises where the man had bitten him.
"Next exit’s yours," the man said quietly, nodding toward the green sign glowing ahead.
Ethan’s hands curled into fists on his thighs. "I could—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "I could stay."
The man chuckled, low and rough.
"Yeah?" He took the exit slow, gravel pinging against the undercarriage as they rolled toward the empty bus stop. The streetlight flickered overhead, painting Ethan’s face in jagged shadows.
The truck idled at the curb, engine ticking. Ethan didn’t move. The man reached over, thumb brushing the kid’s bottom lip, still sweet with the memory of him.
"You got school tomorrow," he said finally, voice softer than he’d intended.
Ethan’s breath hitched. "Fuck school."
The man smirked, but didn’t argue. Just leaned in, catching Ethan’s mouth in a slow, dirty kiss, all tongue and teeth and the taste of shared sweat. When he pulled back, Ethan’s eyes were glassy, his fingers twisted in the man’s shirt.
"Next time," the man murmured, tapping Ethan’s knee. "Now get out before I change my mind."
Ethan hesitated, then shoved the door open with more force than necessary. The man waited until he’d reached the bus shelter, until he’d turned, just once, to watch the taillights disappear into the dark.
The neon glow of the gas station faded behind the truck, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of highway lights overhead. The man rolled his window down, letting the humid night air carry the scent of gasoline and cut grass. His fingers tapped the steering wheel to the radio’s static-laced melody, but his mind replayed the way Ethan’s breath had hitched when he’d bottomed out inside him. Raw. Messy. Perfect. He grinned, palming himself through his jeans at the memory.