OnlyLit Link :O

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

My Friend Showed Me How Big It Gets

Chapter 10: The Shop

Finn brought Danny's brother's truck into the bay slowly, both hands on the wheel, easing over the lip of the concrete like he was afraid of scratching something, even though there was a dent in every panel already. 

"Why are you the one doing this," I said. "It's his brother's truck."

"He asked."

"Danny asks everybody for everything."

"Yeah." He let the wheel slide back through his palms and rolled us another foot. "Doesn't mean anybody does it."

"So you're, what. The nice guy?"

He didn't answer that. He kept his eyes on the tool bench coming up in front of the bumper and touched the brake so lightly that I barely felt it.

"You talked to me about this truck forever in the hallway at Wes's," I said. "Right before Wes came up the stairs."

"I remember... the hallway."

"You said the whole front end was held together with zip ties."

"It is." He eased us the last few feet with two fingers on the bottom of the wheel. "I wasn't really talking about the truck."

"I know."

He looked straight out the windshield at the pegboard on the back wall instead of at me, and that was all I was getting out of him about Danny.

I had the passenger side to myself and about a big Taco Bell bag on the floor between my feet from the drive over. I balled the wrappers up one at a time and stuffed them all into it while he parked.

Alex's boots were sticking out from under a Camry, toes up, one heel rocking back and forth. He heard the doors and rolled himself out on the creeper flat on his back, shirt riding up, and he came out from under the car looking straight up at the ceiling before his head turned toward us.

Finn was already coming around the front of the hood.

I watched Alex take him in visually, from the bottom up. And it was a different look than normal. His eyes crawled up him slowly, over the hair on his shins, over the gym shorts, over all that height, and they narrowed a little as they went. They still stopped for a second at the crotch. He had seen the video of it after all.

"Sup," Finn said, in his typical friendly way.

"You're the frisbee guy," Alex said, flat, from the floor.

He stayed down there. He didn't sit up, didn't put a hand back, nothing. Finn stepped up to the front of the Camry and Alex's face stayed level with the front of those gym shorts, a foot and a half away, and he held it there one beat longer than a person holds anything.

Then Alex sat up, hooked his hand on the bumper, and stood.

"Keys," he said.

Finn tossed them and Alex caught them without looking.

He popped the hood on the truck and got it up on the prop rod, and Finn went right in there next to him, both forearms on the frame, head down over the engine. I stayed back with the trash bag still in my hand like an idiot until I remembered the barrel by the tool bench and dumped it.

They started in on the carburetor. Alex talked to him the same as he talks to anybody who brings a car in, short sentences, naming parts, telling him what it was going to cost. Finn asked what the accelerator pump actually does and then he shut up and let Alex explain it all the way to the end, nodding, and when Alex finished he asked a follow-up that proved he'd listened. He does that to everyone. He did it to me in Bio in September and I had walked around for a week after that feeling like a special guy.

"He's gonna want to drive it easy till Friday," Alex said.

"It doesn't do anything but easy." They chuckled. I saw Alex start to smile.

Finn straightened up out of the engine bay and came over and leaned on the fender beside me, ankles crossed, hip against my hip.

He bumped me with it. Once while Alex was saying something about the choke, and once more a minute later, for nothing.

So then there were three of us in that bay and I could see all of it at the same time.

Alex had a rag out. He'd started wiping his hands about the time Finn straightened up and he had not stopped since, palm over palm, working it into the webbing of his fingers, then flipping the rag and starting again. His jeans had shifted left. He was standing across the bay with the engine between us and he'd turned about fifteen degrees away from us at some point.

Finn was in gym shorts. Two hip bumps and a warm shop and whatever else, and the front of them wasn't sitting flat anymore, hanging out and forward, the lazy way he always does, and he had his forearms crossed.

And I was in denim, which was the only lucky part of my afternoon.

"How's it run cold?" Alex asked.

"Like a lawnmower."

"That's the float." He wiped his hands again.

Finn's hip stayed against mine the whole time. He did not look at Alex's jeans. I stood there with my shoulder against Finn's shoulder, in front of Alex, and did not want to be anywhere else.

The bell went off inside.

"I'll write it up," Alex said. He pulled the prop rod and dropped the hood, and it banged, and he hung the truck keys on the pegboard by the door with about nine other sets.

Finn said something about "Friday" and went out to the lot.

I got to the doorway and Alex was a step inside at the counter with the rag going over his hands again, not looking at me.

"He's exactly like you said he was," he said.

I didn't have anything to say to that. 

"Later," I said, and went out after Finn.

····[]····

We didn't go anywhere. Finn walked around the side of the building instead of the front and got the truck out through the back gate and parked it behind the shop, nose to the brick, and shut it off.

The milk crate was still sitting there by the back door. Nobody had moved it.

I turned sideways against the passenger door with my back to the window and one knee up on the bench seat. Finn had his wrist hooked over the top of the wheel and he was looking out the windshield at the wall.

"That's his shop," he said.

"I mean, he works there. Since last year."

"Is that where you go on Tuesdays."

"Sometimes."

He waited. I picked at the seam of the seat with my thumbnail, and then I just did it.

I told him the whole thing. The crate, me on the curb, the questions, the details I gave up about him and about me, what Alex asked and what I answered, that I told him how big he was. And then that I showed him the video, and that he was weird to me afterward.

"Weird how?"

"He seemed jealous. Like, maybe that we like each other like we do, or maybe just friend-jealous. I don't know."

Finn didn't say anything for a while, which for him is unusual. He's usually got a cute line ready before I finish talking. He kept looking through the windshield as he tapped his thumb on the top of the wheel.

"So he's seen it and you've had it," he said. "Jealous?"

I laughed, too loud for that cab.

"Yeah, probably."

He reached across and got a fistful of my shirt at the chest, and hauled me over the bench seat, and I went with it, scrambling with one hand on the seatback, one knee hitting the shifter, and he got his other hand under my thigh and pulled it across him and set me down straddling his lap, facing him, my knees folded on either side of his hips and my head bent under the roof.

I got both hands on his jaw and kissed him. His back leaned against the driver's door and his arms came around me and pulled me in flush, my chest hitting his chest, and he opened his mouth under mine and I did not come up for a while, our mouths eating and sucking on each other's lips and tongues. The cab smelled like Danny's brother, which is dip and old cologne and a weird sourness under the seats, and none of that mattered even slightly. His stubble scraped my chin. My hands slid back into his hair and I pulled at it, and he made a noise into my mouth and shoved his hips up under me.

His right hand went down the back of my shorts. He got his whole palm over one cheek and gripped, hard, pulling me forward into him, and then his fingers went further and found my hole, and rubbed, and my back arched and my head bumped the roof of the cab.

"Ow," I said into his mouth.

"Sorry."

He wasn't. He did it again and I hit the roof again.

I got my hand down between us and pulled the front of his shorts down and it took two tries because there was too much meat in there. He lifted his hips off the seat to help and I shoved them down his thighs and got my own down off my ass and that was as far as either of us got with the clothing situation. His dick was already up flat against his stomach, heavy. It moved on its own while we groped and fondled each other.

He'd gotten something out of the door pocket, a little bottle of lube. He greased himself with one hand while he kept kissing me. His fingers went back and worked me open slowly with a finger, and then two, both of us breathing into each other's mouths, and I bit down on the side of his neck to stay quiet and he laughed once through his nose.

"Ouch," he said quietly into my ear.

Then I reached back and got him and put his dick where it needed to be, the same way he did for me in his bedroom.

"Genius," I said.

"Shut up."

I sank down on him, slowly, waiting for the burn to start, and then waiting for it to fade.

I had to fully stop halfway. My forehead went down onto his shoulder and I stayed there breathing into his T-shirt with my thighs shaking on either side of him, and both his hands came up and spread flat on my back, and he didn't push me down and he didn't say anything. His heart pounded under my cheekbone.

Then I took the rest.

The shop door wasn't far off the front bumper. I rode him slowly with my hands braced on the seatback behind his head, up and down in short movements because there was no ceiling room to do anything more, and he sat back and let me set the pace, touching my body with his hands, playing with my dick, scratching my back gently. He dropped them down and gripped my ass, spreading me open on him, guiding the pace without taking it over.

Inside the wall the compressor kicked on, rattling through the brick, and I felt it come up through the truck.

I kept going. His shorts were down around his knees and mine were caught around my thighs and the vinyl stuck to the backs of my legs and neither of us cared. He got a hand between us and wrapped it firmly around me. His hand covered me completely as he stroked me in time with how I was moving.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked at him. His mouth was open and his eyes were half shut and he watched my face as he started thrusting upward, making my body bounce. I released a string of jizz onto his shirt without announcing it, too lost in the moment to care. He pulled both our shirts over my dick in response as I continued to squirt, my load spraying up into his fist under both our shirts, my whole body tensing as my ass clamped down on him.

He grabbed my hips with both hands, letting my cum get everywhere as he pushed up into me from underneath strongly, four or five times, hard enough to move the truck on its springs, and then he pulled me down onto him all the way and held me there and dropped his face into my neck.

And he laughed. Right into the side of my throat, wheezing, shoulders bouncing, while it was still happening inside me, his hands locked around my hips and his stomach jumping under mine.

"Every time," I said, into his hair.

"I can't help it."

"Do you laugh every time you cum, like ever?"

"No," he said, "It's the gay thing that's funny."

I looked at him, too spent from my orgasm to even chuckle. "I get that."

We stayed like that. He kept his arms around my lower back and I stayed sitting on him with my chin on top of his head, both of us wrecked and breathing, my thighs done for the day.

My phone buzzed in the shorts down around my knee. I dug it out sideways with two fingers.

Alex: Slut

Now I chuckled, realizing he had seen us, which made sense, since we didn't really think about concealing ourselves.

Alex: He's fine. I guess.

Alex: Tell him to bring the truck back Friday, they ordered the part.

I didn't answer it.

Finn read it upside down off my screen from where his head was, and he started laughing again before he even said anything. He looked through the windshield, trying to see if he could see Alex. I looked too. You couldn't really tell in the sunlight where he was looking from.

"He seems like he doesn't like me," he said.

"He doesn't."

"But I'm likable."

"I know."

He tipped his head back against the door and looked up at me, still inside me, both hands flat on my back.

"He'll come around."