Jason got the message—he went to his knees, and before he’d even reached the floor, he was already undoing the front of Blake’s pants. Blake rested a hand on the car for balance, and as his cock slid between Jason’s lips, he had to grab the car with his other hand as well.
Jason used both hands too—one steadied Blake’s cock while the other stroked it, and his mouth concentrated on the head, which drove Blake insane. Even an ocean’s worth of jet lag couldn’t keep Jason from turning him on and turning him inside out.
“Maybe we should get in the car,” Blake murmured. “Let you blow me right there in the driver’s seat.”
Jason groaned.
“Can’t . . . can’t decide what would be hotter.” Blake combed his fingers through Jason’s hair. “Watching you suck me off in the car, or . . . bending you over—”
Another groan, almost a whimper this time.
Blake licked his lips. “I fucking love your mouth,” he slurred. “And if that’s your fantasy, you’d better believe I’m gonna fuck you over the— Oh God . . .”
Jason’s enthusiasm almost brought Blake down to his knees too. He stroked and sucked, teasing with his lips and tongue, and when his eyes flicked up to meet Blake’s, they were wide as if to ask, Is this good enough? Is this what you want?
Oh, it was. It so was.
“G-get up.”
Jason sat back on his heels, still stroking Blake’s dick. “You don’t want—”
“You want me to fuck you?”
Jason scrambled to his feet, and as soon as he did, Blake turned him around and pushed him up against the car door, pulled his hair back, and kissed his neck.
Jason tensed. “Are you sure this won’t—”
“You won’t damage it,” he said against Jason’s throat. “And if you do, I don’t care. Scratches can be buffed out.” He nipped beneath Jason’s ear. “Dents can be pulled.” Sliding his hands over Jason’s hips, he whispered, “And I have no qualms about explaining to the body shop exactly why my car’s all fucked up.”
Jason opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had to say must’ve escaped him, because he just exhaled and held on.
Blake cupped Jason’s groin and kneaded his rock-hard dick. “This really does turn you on, doesn’t it?”
“So much.” Jason let his head fall back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing against Blake’s palm. “Everything about . . . Please, fuck me.”
“I fully intend to. But first, you need to strip.”
Jason nodded vigorously, and when Blake let him go, he immediately peeled off his shirt, dropped it onto the concrete floor, and started on his belt. Blake wasn’t in quite such a hurry—by the time Jason was naked, he hadn’t even finished unbuttoning his shirt.
“Over the hood.” He nodded sharply toward it.
Jason gazed at the car, swallowing hard, and went about finding a more or less comfortable position. That was part of why Blake took his time—giving Jason a chance to get as comfortable as he could be while bent over a machine.
As Blake was taking off the last of his clothes, Jason settled on standing directly in front of the car, though he stood back far enough to keep his shins or kneecaps from cracking against the frame. The car was fairly low, especially in the front end, but the hood sloped upward enough that Jason could easily lean over it and support himself on his forearms.
As Jason adjusted his position, Blake paused to stare—wasn’t that a hell of a sight? Jason, naked and stretched out over the hood, his fair skin contrasting sharply with the gleaming candy-apple finish, and the red paint reflecting on his flesh as if to give a preview of how flushed he was about to be.
Blake tore the condom wrapper.
Jason shifted his weight, though it was hard to tell if he was trying to get more comfortable, or if he was fidgeting impatiently. Maybe a little of both. “I’m thinking I should charge for every minute you aren’t fucking me.”
“Oh really?” Blake rolled on the condom and put on some lube. “How much are you charging me, anyway?”
“Shit. Um.” Jason touched his forehead to the car’s hood. “Should’ve . . . before we . . .”
“We can either negotiate.” He pressed against Jason’s ass. “Or I can fuck you.”
“Damn it . . .”
“The longer we negotiate, the longer I’m—”
“Fuck me.” Jason’s fingers slid down the hood, leaving a semitransparent streak behind. “Just fucking— Oh God . . .”
Blake held his breath as he worked himself into Jason. Despite his fatigue, he was turned on beyond belief now, and wanted nothing more than to slam in and fuck him as violently as he could handle. He held back, though. God knew how long Jason had had this fantasy—long enough to trump his bartering fetish—and Blake wasn’t about to rush it for him. He fucked him slowly, making every stroke take forever.
Jason pushed himself up, and his face reflected in the windshield. Eyes heavy-lidded, lips apart—fucking gorgeous.
His head fell forward, and Blake couldn’t see his face anymore, so he grabbed Jason’s hair and pulled it back again. Jason’s eyes flew open. He squirmed between Blake and the car, and mouthed curses that Blake couldn’t hear but could read clear as day in the windshield.