Normal Enough

by Marie Sexton

  Kasey gasped. He hung onto the steering wheel with his left hand. He grabbed a handful of Brandon’s hair with his right. He spread his legs as wide as he could in the cramped space, pushing his groin toward Brandon’s face, moaning and writhing as Brandon sucked first one side, then the other. Kasey nearly sobbed when Brandon stopped.

  “Will you turn over for me?”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. For the pleasure to subside enough for him to process the simple request. He nodded weakly and turned over onto his stomach. His cock slid sweetly across the leather seat. He recognized this sensation. He’d done this before, years ago, when using his hand wasn’t enough. He’d humped against a car seat until it brought him to fruition, and the memory made him shudder. He thrust again, taking in the smells, remembering those days so long ago. He gripped the steering wheel in his right hand and reached behind him with his left to grip one cheek, spreading himself as best he could with one hand. He remembered the women in the magazines, holding themselves open, waiting to be fucked. He felt like them, naked and spread, desperate and needy. He arched his hips toward Brandon, begging with his body to be taken.

  Brandon groaned and took his hint. He gripped Kasey’s cheeks and pulled them wide, and Kasey rose up to meet him. He moaned as Brandon’s tongue touched him. It was so hot and so wet, and Kasey couldn’t decide which was better, the friction against his cock as he humped the seat, or the delight of Brandon’s tongue as it explored that sensitive ring of flesh. None of his prior lovers had done this, and he marveled at how good it felt. How intimate and indulgent. He pulled his cheek wider, thrusting his hips up, the pleasure building both in front and behind. Brandon’s tongue slipped past his rim, and Kasey cried out. He wanted to push back farther, but he had no leverage. Brandon pushed deeper, lapping at him, penetrating him, opening him up and spreading him wide, making Kasey writhe and whimper.

  Brandon kept his tongue moving, but now Kasey experienced something new. Something hard pushing slowly past his rim. It was Brandon’s finger, and the knowledge nearly sent Kasey careening over the edge. He wanted to buck his hips, but he feared he’d trigger his orgasm. He held his breath and went still as Brandon’s finger slid in deep. He bit his lip, fighting the need to climax, wanting this exquisite torture to last forever.

  “Jesus,” Brandon breathed. “You have no idea how close I am to coming right now.”

  I do know, Kasey wanted to say. I know exactly what you mean. But he couldn’t speak.

  Brandon withdrew his finger and pulled away to fist his own erection. “Let me see you. Do what you were doing before.”

  Kasey groaned in frustration. With Brandon’s tongue and finger both gone, he felt empty. He wanted to be spread wide again. To be filled up by Brandon’s tongue pushing inside. “Brandon—”

  “Fuck the seat again.”

  Kasey lifted his hips and thrust down. Yes, he still had this. Brandon had intentionally left him aching and unsatisfied, but he could do this. He humped harder, and this time, it was Brandon who whimpered.

  “Jesus, Kasey. Give me a minute, baby. Don’t come yet.”

  Brandon fumbled with his clothes, which were piled on the ground. He pulled out a condom and used his teeth to rip the package open. He looked and sounded as desperate as Kasey felt as he rolled the condom on, and Kasey ducked his head, moaning and biting his lip as he moved against the seat. He couldn’t believe it was finally time. He feared he’d orgasm the minute Brandon pushed inside.

  His only consolation was that Brandon seemed to be in a similar state. “Jesus, Kasey. Jesus,” he panted again as he struggled to get into position on top of Kasey, ducking his head awkwardly into the car. He was breathless and shaking, his words a tangled jumble. “Jesus, Jesus God, I don’t know if I can even get it in without coming. Kasey, you’re so fucking hot. Oh, God—”

  Brandon pushed against his entrance, being tentative, and Kasey grabbed the steering wheel with one hand, used his other hand on the closed driver door for leverage, and pushed. That exquisite pleasure penetrated his rim, pushed deep into the root of his pleasure. He almost screamed. He nearly came. Brandon’s echoing cry of pleasure rang in his ears. Kasey pushed harder, arching his back, thrusting his hips. He could feel that spot, that bright center of him, just within reach. He thrust down again, fucking himself against the seat, letting Brandon’s cock nearly slip free. Then he thrust back onto his lover’s waiting length. Down against the seat, back up onto Brandon’s cock. It was the most divine thing he’d ever experienced, and he did it again, harder this time.

  Brandon’s warm breath tickled Kasey’s shoulder. “Jesus,” he panted out, as he wrapped one arm around Kasey’s neck. “Jesus, you’re so fucking good. Oh God, baby, you’re so fucking good.”

  And Kasey embraced it like never before. He rode the wave of his pleasure. He’d heard the term “power bottom,” although he’d never thought it applied to him, but now he claimed it. He drove his hips forward and back, humping wildly. The seat stimulated him from the front; Brandon’s penetration weakened him from behind. Kasey whimpered and bucked his hips, finding that perfect, glorious spot where the two pleasures became one, so intense and exquisite that Kasey nearly screamed.

  “Oh, Christ.” Brandon moaned, gripping him tighter, his body tensing as his orgasm hit, and Kasey knew he could finally let go. Brandon cried out and pushed in hard, pinning Kasey to the seat, quaking as he came, and Kasey came with him, crying out in relief as he spilled his seed onto the smooth seat of the Cougar.

  God, it felt good. Over the years, he’d had more orgasms in cars than he could count, but nearly all had left him embarrassed by his fetish. But not now. Not with Brandon’s weight still on top of him, his breathing ragged in Kasey’s ear. The seat was solid beneath him, his cock slippery against it with his cum. He felt sated and sexy. And best of all, he was at ease, comfortable with the car and Brandon and the effect they had on him together, secure in the knowledge he wasn’t wrong, or strange, or a freak.

  “Christ,” Brandon finally said, his voice hoarse. “God, you’re amazing. I’d fuck you again right now, if I could.”

  Kasey laughed. “Give me a minute.”

  “I’ll need more than that, believe me.”

  They untangled their limbs, bumping their heads and their elbows at every turn. In the throes of their passion, they’d managed to wedge themselves into the car in a way that would have been impossible under less heated circumstances. When Kasey finally emerged, his knees were still shaking from the force of his release. They used paper towels to clean themselves and the seat, and when that was done, Brandon pulled Kasey into his arms. He cupped Kasey’s face in his hands and kissed him. Not deep and passionate, but sweet and soft.

  “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  Kasey shook his head. “Absolutely not.” But even as he said it, a hint of doubt bloomed in his chest. Would this be it? Now that Brandon had attained his goal, would he cross Kasey off his list and move on? “What about you?”

  “Are you kidding? Jesus, baby, you’re amazing. I’d get down on my knees and worship at your feet right now, if you asked.” He kissed Kasey again. “But next time, let’s do it the other way. I want you to fuck me in the car, if you’re willing.”

  Kasey found himself smiling. The seed of doubt began to wither. “Next time? When do you suppose that will be?”

  Brandon laughed. “Later tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. As long as we make it back to this car eventually.”

  “It’s a deal,” Kasey said, tipping his head back to meet Brandon’s eyes. “What happens now?”

  “Now?” Brandon said. “How about if I take you to bed?”

  He led Kasey into the house and down the hall, through the bedroom Kasey had seen on the iPad two weeks before, and into a small bathroom. He opened a drawer and pulled out a toothbrush, still in its package. A slow stain crept up his neck as he handed it to Kasey.

  Kasey laughed. “You just happen to have an ex
tra lying around?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I bought it for you. I know it was presumptuous, but I hoped you’d stay.” Brandon shrugged, embarrassed for only the second time since Kasey had met him. “I hoped you might even make a habit of it.”

  The dark, nagging fear that had haunted Kasey for days suddenly seemed silly. And in the wake of that fear and the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, he felt absolutely giddy. He looked down at the toothbrush and laughed in delight.

  “What’s so funny?” Brandon asked.

  “I’ve been afraid to ask what your intentions are.”

  “Intentions?”

  “I mean, for the long-term.”

  “It’s a toothbrush, not a wedding ring.”

  “I know. But I was afraid that once I slept with you, you’d be done with me.”

  Brandon took a step back, clearly stunned. “Done with you? Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know.” But for once, Kasey didn’t feel small or ridiculous. Nothing could intrude on this bright new happiness. “You’ve had so many other boyfriends, and I wasn’t sure what else you could see in me, other than the car thing.”

  “I’m not only attracted to your fetish. You know that, right? I mean, yeah, that’s how it started. But I like you, Kasey. I really do. I hoped you felt the same about me.”

  “I do. It’s just… I’ve been afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of hoping for too much.”

  Brandon nodded, smiling. “I see.” He stepped close again and tipped Kasey’s head back, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Last week, when I was in Texas, I spent every spare minute thinking about you. I lay there every night wanting to hear your voice and cursing myself for not getting your phone number. I didn’t even go home when I left the airport. Did you know that? I came straight to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And I don’t know where we’ll be in a month, or in six, or a year. But I know right now, at this moment, you’re the only man in the world for me. And I have no intention of being ‘done with you’ anytime soon. Is that what you need to hear?”

  “Yes.” It was exactly what he’d needed to hear. He was comforted that Brandon understood him so well, and relieved that for once, he felt no need to apologize. He’d worry about “forever” another day. For an unpredictable number of days in the future, he’d have a lover, a confidant, and a friend.

  Maybe Kasey was normal, or maybe he wasn’t.

  He was pleased to realize he no longer cared.

  Exclusive excerpt

  A Wrench Wars Story

  When Reggie’s garage became part of a popular reality show, business went through the roof. And he supposes having his shop in the black is a fair trade for jumping through the network’s hoops.

  As the show’s lowest-ranking producer, Wes is tasked with proposing a new spinoff show to Reggie. The sexy mechanic makes him sweat on a normal day, but this time, Wes is holding cards he can’t show. With execs breathing down his neck, he’s expected to pitch a show Reggie will never agree to do, even if his rejection puts his existing show on the line.

  The network is counting on Reggie refusing to sign. But they’re not counting on their messenger falling for the man they’re trying to fire.

  Chapter 1

  HOW THE guys in this garage functioned with the swarm of cameras and crew hovering around, Wes would never know. Then again, after four and a half seasons of Wrench Wars, he supposed they were used to it.

  Wes didn’t like being in front of a camera—thank God he was just a producer—so he hung back and watched from the sidelines. Fortunately for him, there was a section of the shop that was off limits to the cameras. It was separated from that portion of the garage by a wall, and the windows had long since been tinted to prevent the cameras from catching anything on this side. Wes watched through the darkened glass, waiting for Reggie, the shop’s owner, to take a break.

  “You’re gonna be waiting a while.” Kasey, one of the mechanics who never went over to the other side—to the red zone, as they call called it—stopped beside Wes and gestured at the window with a wrench. “They’ve got a good six, eight hours of work left on that thing.”

  Wes glanced at his watch, then at Kasey. “It’s almost five o’clock.”

  “Yeah.” Kasey nodded toward the window. “And they’ve got a good six or eight hours of work left on that thing.” He chuckled. “You might want to come by tomorrow.”

  Wes pursed his lips. “They still take breaks, though, don’t they?”

  Kasey responded with a snort of derision and shook his head. Without a word, he walked away.

  Wes faced the window again. He didn’t have to ask about Kasey’s reaction. The shop’s collective contempt toward the network, especially the producers, was well-known. And given the tight deadlines the men worked under in order to maintain the “realistic” tension and suspense on the show, he shouldn’t have been surprised that state-mandated breaks weren’t exactly enforced.

  Thanks to the tinted glass and the task he was currently focused on, Reggie couldn’t know that Wes was watching him. Even if he felt like he was being watched, he’d probably blame it on the camera that was just inches away from his head.

  Wes, however, was acutely aware of Reggie’s presence. In spite of the glass and the wall, he felt him as if the man were standing right there in his face instead of arguing animatedly with Ray or whatever his name was about something relating to a muscle car’s undercarriage. His presence hummed on the ends of Wes’s nerves just like it always did. They’d only met a handful of times—when the network had pitched the show, during a few visits to assure the network things were going swimmingly, a couple of meetings via Skype—and Wes was still as off balance as he’d been the first time, when the tattooed, stubbled mechanic had caught him completely off guard.

  He’d expected a grizzled old dude like the ones who ran the other shops that had auditioned for the show, but Reggie had been the polar opposite. He wasn’t more than a year or two older than Wes himself, but had that weathered edge of a man who’d spent his life doing manual labor. That edge that fucked with Wes’s ability to form a coherent thought.

  He wasn’t stupid, either. Not that those who went to work without neckties were stupid, but Wes had to admit his outlook on the blue collar sector had needed an adjustment or three after stepping into this world. Particularly after meeting Reggie. The mechanics at the other shop were intelligent, but Reggie had a way about him that kept Wes from thinking straight. Like he looked right into him and knew every last thing about him without Wes so much as opening his mouth and revealing a detail.

  Wes wasn’t the only one who’d had to change the way he looked at the men in this shop. The network had been convinced Reggie and his boys would be ignorant and trusting, the kind of people who were easy to manipulate into letting the producers pull strings and run the show to their specifications in the name of ratings. They should’ve learned after it blew up in their faces during the first season that these guys wouldn’t put up with blackmail, manipulation, or coercion.

  Reggie was no man’s puppet. Neither were his boys.

  But the network knew that now, which was why Wes was here. No one else wanted to broach the subject of the spinoff with Reggie because they all knew damn well what the answer would be. Sending in the one man who really struggled to push Reggie was pretty much a guarantee of this playing out the way the higher ups hoped it would.

  Wes was used to being a pawn in the network’s games. This time, they were asking too much. Way too much.

  But with his job and future employability on the line, he had no choice except to do what he was told and move on the chessboard.

  Gaze still fixed on Reggie, Wes swallowed. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Between the show and the attraction….

  He shook his head and looked away. He faced down some of the toughest execs at the network without even blinking, but a conversation wit
h this guy made him break out in a sweat even when he wasn’t pitching a bullshit Catch-22 deal.

  It didn’t help that the man was gorgeous. Exactly Wes’s type, too. Which was why Wes religiously watched Wrench Wars himself, and he never watched any of the network’s other shows.

  His addiction had nothing to do with the cars. The shop’s creations were impressive—these boys were brilliant with both mechanical and body work—but it was the tattooed mechanic who kept Wes glued to the TV every Wednesday night at eight, no matter how insane his busy schedule was.

  Reggie was slim but solid, soft spoken but always in control. He seemed like the kind of guy who never raised his voice, but also never let himself be pushed around. When he said “jump,” people said “how high?”, no matter how softly he’d said it, and Wes would’ve sawed off a limb for the chance to hear him give a quiet, non-negotiable order in the bedroom.

  He shivered at the thought as he watched Reggie turning a wrench, shoulders and biceps making Wes’s mouth water as they moved beneath the tight black T-shirt.

  Wes looked away again, this time to try to compose himself. What he wouldn’t have done for a night with Reggie. He wasn’t sure if the man was just lazy or if the ever-present stubble on his jaw was deliberate, but whatever, it was gorgeous. It accentuated the hell out of his jawline, and Wes had had more than a few orgasms while imagining Reggie’s chin abrading the back of his neck during a rough fuck.

  And that’s exactly what I should be thinking about right now, isn’t it?

  He shivered again.

  Movement on the other side of the window caught his eye. When he turned, his heart jumped into his throat.

  Reggie was walking away from the car. Toward the door. Toward Wes.