Muscle Car Man

by Deirdre O'Dare

  A crack of lightning striking and simultaneous thunder jolted him back to the present. “Holy shit, that was close!” Thank the gods I have a good surge suppressor and battery backup for my system.

  The sharp ozone scent, coupled with the unique odors of desert rain, wet creosote and other aromatic plants, wafted through the building drawn in by the cooler.

  His next thought came quickly. Where’s Mike? The last he’d noticed, his lanky assistant had the hood off the Mustang and his head stuck deep into the working parts of the old car’s innards. Rising from his computer desk, Jeff headed toward the back door into the yard.

  Yes, there was Mike, trying to wrestle a tarp into place on the Mustang in the face of the rising wind. The first few hard-driven raindrops splattered to the ground, kicking up puffs of dust when they hit.

  “Hang on. I’ll give you a hand,” Jeff yelled. Against the wind, he wasn’t sure if Mike heard him or not, but he headed that way at a jog. Another sizzling bolt of lightning dazzled his vision. He thought it struck either a vehicle in the back of the lot or the six-foot chain link fence. Without a doubt it was too close for comfort. He put a little more speed to his feet. The rain started falling harder and heavier, big solid drops just short of turning to hail stones. They stung when they hit.

  Between them, they got the tarp stretched across the front of the Mustang and tied down with bungee cords. By then there was no question about trying to get back to the office. Mike’s trailer was right there. They tumbled through the door, dripping wet and feeling battered by the rain, now mixed with some hail.

  Without giving it much thought, Jeff dragged his sodden T-shirt over his head. He could almost wring it out, and water dripped from his jeans to the floor. Mike was equally wet. He, too, shed his shirt, a faded chambray work shirt with the sleeves cut off. His darkly tanned arms gleamed like burnished mahogany with a mixture of sweat and rain. His near-black hair was plastered to his skull, and strands separated to reveal the jagged scar above his right ear, normally well hidden.

  Jeff sucked in a sharp breath. Man, the guy is beautiful in a harsh warrior’s way. Bet there’s a story behind such a scar…He found himself wanting to reach out and trace a fingertip along the line and ask, “What happened? How did you get this?” Before he had time to censor his actions, he did just that.

  Mike froze, his breath hitching as he went dead still. He shut his eyes for a moment as both hands clenched into fists and then relaxed, going suddenly limp.

  “Broken bottle used as a knife. It was aimed at my throat but I ducked and twisted.”

  “Is it sensitive? I didn’t mean to startle you. I guess I just didn’t think.”

  Taking a step back, Mike shook his head. “No, it’s almost dead, no feeling in it at all. I was just surprised. Forgot it would show with my hair all plastered down.” He tossed his shirt over the edge of the sink. “Want to put your shirt over here to drip?”

  Jeff handed it over, suddenly very conscious of his half-nude state, of both of them being bare to the waist. How would it feel to have Mike’s body pressed to his? Mike’s chest was less tanned than his arms, but still far darker than Jeff’s. Cursed with a redhead’s pale skin, Jeff burned and burned again before he ever tanned. He’d finally given up; figuring melanoma was too big a price to pay for a sexy brown look. So he still looked like the desk jockey he had been, except for his neck and forearms, which were usually more red than tan.

  For a dozen breaths they simply stood and looked at each other. Jeff took the first step and then Mike responded in kind. A moment later they were face to face, chest to chest, and wrapping arms around one another’s wet bodies. Blistering heat sizzled through Jeff at the contact. He expected to see steam rise, it felt that hot. He was a little bit huskier, but they were of a height that put their faces level, so neither had to reach or tilt his head to bring their mouths together.

  The kiss was urgent, desperate, as if they were both starved for it. Lips twisted and clung as tongues danced in a furious duel. Finally they both pulled back to catch their breaths.

  “I thought…I wondered, but I was scared to ask…”

  “I didn’t figure a guy like you would be interested in a guy like me…thought you must have a lady at home.”

  Their gasped-out words revealed how parallel their thoughts had been running, how they’d both been afraid to make the first move. Now it had been made, completely unplanned. A dizzy relief swept over Jeff as he realized he didn’t have to wonder any longer.

  As if from a distance he registered the rain still fell, pelting down in true desert storm fashion, a flash flood in the making, but here they were safe and starting to dry off. The yard sat on a ridge, well out of harm’s way. No worries.

  “We ought to shuck our wet jeans, too,” Jeff said. “Not that we’re gonna catch cold or anything, but they don’t feel too great.”

  When Mike laughed, Jeff realized it was the first time he’d heard the other man give more than a muted chuckle. Looking at Jeff, Mike suddenly grinned. “Are you tryin’ to get me nekkid here?”

  “Down to the tighty-whiteys anyway.”

  “Don’t have any on.”

  “So much the better. I do, but I can lose them fast.”

  Jeff kicked off his athletic shoes. Mike took a little longer to untie his high tops, but stooping to do it gave Jeff a great view. Damn, he’s got a nice ass. I noticed, but now I can really get an eyeful. For a lean guy, he’s got muscle in all the right places. Two pairs of wet blue jeans and one pair of Jockeys joined the shirts, draped across the edge of the kitchen counter.

  When Mike straightened and turned back to face Jeff, he was already more than half hard, his cock jutting eagerly in Jeff’s direction. The expression on his face was equally avid. Once again locked in a close embrace, they stumbled sideways toward the couch in the living area of the trailer. Busy hands skimmed over each other’s bodies, stroking, squeezing, rubbing, and learning which touches drew shivers, shudders, or moans of pleasure.

  They fell onto the couch, Jeff beneath Mike when they landed. That was okay. The weight of the other man’s body felt good, and the thrust of his cock between Jeff’s thighs felt even better. They kissed again, in hungry, eager nips, while Jeff tangled one hand in Mike’s hair and gripped the left cheek of his ass with the other. The muscle flexed beneath his clutching fingers, and he felt the fine shivers dancing across Mike’s skin all over his body.

  “It’s been a while,” Mike said, his voice so low and guttural it was almost a groan. “And longer since it was consensual. Rape isn’t exactly fun, even if you don’t fight it, in order to save your sorry ass from getting beat to a pulp. That’s one of the ugly parts of being in the pen.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jeff kept his tone gentle, almost neutral. “You don’t strike me as a guy who deserved to have to deal with that kind of shit. The guards don’t try to protect you?”

  Mike shrugged. “How can they? They can’t be everywhere all the time, and some of them do turn a blind eye so long as nobody gets killed or there are no riots. I made it. Don’t worry about it. Not your problem.”

  “My friend’s problems are mine,” Jeff insisted. “Right now you’re a friend, or I’d like to think you are. From the first I felt a pull in your direction, but you were so aloof, like you didn’t want anyone in your space.”

  “I was just being careful. It meant a lot for you to trust me on your place here with a lot of valuable stuff and give me a chance to get some self-respect back. I was scared to fuck things up by coming on to you if you didn’t want me.”

  “We wasted some time, but it’s not too late.” Jeff reached down between their bodies and wrapped his hand around Mike’s rigid prick. “First off, I want to give you my very best blow job and then whatever else you’d like.”

  When Mike laughed again, the sound faded into a ragged sigh. “Oh, man, I think I died and went to heaven. Did one of those lightning bolts hit me? Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”


  He rolled off Jeff, turned and lay back on the couch, as Jeff dropped to kneel between his sprawled legs.

  Mike had long, slender feet. They were one of the few parts of him that were relatively pale. Jeff massaged them, warming the skin chilled by being wet. Then he worked his way up Mike’s long legs, rubbing and kneading until the tense muscles relaxed. When he reached the upper thighs, he softened the touch and deliberately made it more sensual, more teasing. Mike’s cock jerked as the blood surged into it with each beat of his heart. He groaned and murmured slurred words of pleasure, leaning his head back on the couch and closing his eyes.

  Finally Jeff again clasped Mike’s cock. He closed his hand around the girth and stroked slowly from base to head, eased down and did it again. “You awake up there?”

  “I am now,” Mike said. “Yeah. I’m definitely awake now.”

  Jeff fished a foil packet out of his wallet and rolled the rubber over Mike’s prick, then he bent down and ran his tongue around the head, under the edge of the mushroom-shaped cap to taunt the nerve buds in that tender area. He widened his mouth to slide down over as much of Mike’s erection as he could. The tight, hot power beneath it sent a thrill through him as he began to suck, building slowly in rhythm and pressure. Mike began to twist and heave then, fucking Jeff’s mouth as he bobbed up and down. Then Mike grabbed Jeff’s head, digging his fingers into Jeff’s hair and driving into his mouth in a final fierce thrust. He howled aloud as he came, erupting in a series of spasms Jeff felt all through his whole body.

  “Oh, man, that was wild. Amazing. God, it was good.”

  Jeff struggled to his feet, his legs numb and stiff from the length of time he’d knelt. “Good. I hoped it would be just right for you, something to push back some of those bad memories. Now what would you like?”

  “I’d like for you to fuck me. I want you, and I want to give that much of myself to you.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to do it unless you’re sure it’s what you want. And don’t just do it for me.”

  “It’s for both of us. Me and you and us—together.” There was an earnest intensity in Mike’s voice Jeff couldn’t doubt.

  Relief surged through him. Yeah, he wanted it with all his heart, but only if the other man was willing, and stirring bad memories was not what he wanted to do. “Okay. In that case, I’d enjoy it. What have you got in the way of lube? I’m not going into you dry.”

  “Oh, shit, now why wasn’t I prepared? Let’s see, what would do in a pinch?”

  “I don’t recommend 10-W-40.” Jeff’s tone came out dry and droll as he cited a common motor oil weight. “But WD-40 might make it. They say it’s good for arthritis and it is slick.”

  “Yeah, WD-40 and duct tape will fix most anything. But wait, I got some hand stuff the other day, some kind of creamy junk. Washing parts in diesel had my skin cracking to beat all hell. It’s right there on the ledge above the bed.”

  Already on his feet, Jeff went back to get it. He stopped to dig a second condom out of his wallet in his jeans. Then he squirted a generous dollop of lube onto his cock, spread it quickly, and next slathered a handful along the crack of Mike’s ass and worked some into his rectum with one finger, then two.

  Before he was done, Mike began to squirm. “Aw, man, damn that feels good. But I want more.”

  Jeff did, too. He grasped Mike’s hips and started to nudge his cock between Mike’s cheeks. It was all he could do to maintain enough control to take it slow and easy. I’m not going to do it like he had it in prison. I’m going to be gentle, careful, easy, and slow. He pushed past the first tight ring and almost moaned. It felt that good. He eased off for a breath and then thrust deeper, but still careful, still restrained.

  Then Mike pushed upward against him, forcing his prick to drive deeper. Control evaporated. He began to fuck hard and fast, letting out the hunger and need flooding through him. Mike didn’t flinch, but met his thrusts eagerly and accepted the pounding pressure.

  It was over too soon. Jeff came in a rush, hard and fierce. He slumped forward, resting half on Mike’s back and trying to take some of his weight on his arms, braced against the back of the couch. His legs trembled, barely holding him up.

  After he caught his breath, he pulled free and straightened. Mike gathered himself and stood up also, turning slowly to face Jeff. Awe and amazement painted his angular face. He seemed to search for words for a moment, then finally spoke.

  “I don’t know what to say. Thanks, I guess. That was incredible. You made it feel like you cared, like it was not just about you getting off, but something deeper, something real. I never experienced anything quite like it.”

  Jeff gave him a quick hug. “I did want it to be different and I do care. For what it’s worth, I really do.”

  Mike gave him a crooked grin. “For what it’s worth, I do, too.”

  The rain had stopped. The sun chose that moment to slip out from behind the clouds, shining now at a low slant revealing it was late in the afternoon. Jeff hoped no one had come to the office and found it empty, but he really didn’t give a rat’s ass. His afternoon could not be termed a waste no matter what had happened anywhere else.

  He cuffed Mike on the shoulder. “I better get dressed and get over there and close up for the night anyway. Why don’t I come by in the morning about ten or so and take you over to the house? I was planning to have a few friends over for a cookout in the afternoon. It’s about time they met you and find out I’ve got a new partner here.”

  For an instant something close to panic flared in Mike’s eyes. Then it faded. He twitched one shoulder. “Sure, if you want to. I did get a new pair of Levi’s the other day and I think I can find a clean shirt without too many holes somewhere. I don’t want to look like some homeless bum.”

  “My friends aren’t the kind of people who make careless judgments based on image, Mike. I wouldn’t have friends that shallow and crass. They’ll see the same qualities in you I see. Don’t sweat it.”

  He could tell Mike was still dubious, but he’d agreed, which was enough for now. Not wanting to get too sentimental, Jeff turned away without saying anything else. He stepped out the door, squished through the muddy rivulets still running across the lot and headed for the main building. It had been an amazing couple of hours.

  Chapter 3

  The next few weeks flew by. As July slipped toward August, excitement began to build in the valley over the upcoming county fair. It was one of the highlights of the rural area’s year. Mike had begun to feel himself a part of the community. He’d been accepted by Jeff’s small circle of friends and had begun to develop a sense of home for the first time in long, rough years. The idea of racing the Mustang again had taken firm root, giving him something to be excited about, too. Well, besides Jeff that is. He grinned to himself. They were still working things out, but it was beginning to feel real good, long-term kind of good.

  Mike tightened the final bolt on the Mustang’s engine mounts, eased out from under the car, stood, and stepped back to view his work. A person could eat off that engine now. Not a speck of grease or dirt remained, and he knew the inside was in just as good shape. He’d been able to accomplish a lot in a few short weeks. Thanks to Jeff, for the most part. He made sure he didn’t neglect any of the work he was doing for Castle Classic Cars, but he knew Jeff kept close track of what he assigned to Mike and made sure he had time to work on his own car. There was no question—the Mustang would be ready to go for the stock car races held in conjunction with county fair in late August, a good place to start again. If he did well, like take first place, he might be able to afford an attorney to look into clearing his name and getting his conviction reversed.

  Sunday afternoons were normally quiet. Jeff was off doing something on his own, the gates were closed, and the phone hardly ever rang. Mike wanted to finish a couple more things before he closed up for the afternoon rains. It didn’t rain every day, but the clouds swept out over the valley and the threat was there,
so it made sense just to quit and not be caught by the weather.

  He went back into the trailer to collect a couple of other tools. When the phone rang, he jumped. Sure it was someone calling Castle, even though they were known to be closed on Sunday, he let it ring. The answering machine in the office would pick it up. But the phone kept ringing. The power outage the night before must have messed something up. He growled a curse and picked up the phone. “Castle Classic Cars. We’re closed.”

  “Hey, Mike, I broke down out here on the road to the lake. Get the tow and come out and get me.”

  The voice did not sound quite like Jeff and the abrupt tone didn’t either, but who else could it be?

  “Jeff? How far out are you? Did you get a new cell phone? The caller ID isn’t recognizing it.”

  “Yeah, new phone. I’m about ten miles out of town. Shit, damned battery is going. I gotta hang up. Come get me.”

  In spite of a niggling sense something was not right, Mike hurried down to the office, got the keys to the slider, and headed out. If Jeff needed help, it was the least he could do.

  He made sure the gate was locked behind him and stuck his own new cell phone in his pocket. If the battery was dying on Jeff’s, they might need it. Nobody was going to be calling him, but that wasn’t the point.

  As he approached the pickup off the side of the road, more warning bells went off in Mike’s mind. For one thing he realized, as he stopped, that it wasn’t Jeff’s truck. Same make and model, but more beat up and not quite the same paint job. Shit, what’s going on?

  He swung down from the cab and started toward the pickup. Then a guy got out and he found himself looking the business end of a semi-auto handgun, at least a .38 by the size of the barrel. Up close and personal the damn thing looks like a fuckin’ cannon. Jesus. After he tore his gaze away from the threat of the gun, he recognized the scarred visage of the man who held it.