Fic: Hitchhiker, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17, Yeomanrand and Shinychimera
Title: Hitchhiker
Author/Artist: yeomanrand and shinychimera
Pairing(s): Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17 (we may even be approaching XXX on this one, to be perfectly honest)
Summary: Jim Kirk's stuck on the side of the road. Will he risk taking a ride with a handsome stranger, and paying the necessary price?
Notes/Warnings: Nothing here should be triggery. Inspired by a Daily Captain/Daily Doctor post on jim_and_bones.
Disclaimer: We don't own any of this, and we do it all for love (but we don't do that).
A breeze riffled through Jim's short hair, then lost itself in the pines behind the road's edge. Leaning back against the iron guardrail, he took another drag on his cigarette, savoring the warmth in his lungs. He gazed down at the spot where the highway curved around the mountain slope, wishing there was more traffic. The day was still warm, but if someone didn't stop for him soon he was going to regret charging off without a jacket.
As it was, he wished he'd brought some tunes - birdsong wasn't really his thing, and his only other distraction was making him shift his stance uncomfortably. He finally held the cigarette in his lips long enough to unbutton and adjust before leaning back against the railing and crossing one leg over the other.
He was exhaling a stream of smoke when he heard the faint hum of tires on the road, saw the wink of sunlight reflecting off a car coming down the mountain. Tilted his head and squinted until he could tell there was only one silhouette in the car; ignored the accelerating heartbeat trying to warn him against taking the stupid, reckless risk, and stuck out his thumb.
The car glided to a stop on the shoulder. The window slid down.
The man behind it was a little scruffy, a little wild-looking in a rock star sort of way, but wearing a crisp white shirt and tie.
"Do you care where I'm headed, or do you just want off the mountain?"
"Town would be good."
The ghost of a nod, and the guy stopped the engine and pushed the driver's door open and got out. He came around to Jim's side of the car, making his heart thump a little harder - what was he doing? Fuck, the guy was tall. And good-looking. Broad shoulders under the expensive shirt. No ring, but a fine pale line of skin suggesting he'd worn one in the recent past. Dark eyes of indeterminate color, looking Jim up and down, not missing the persistent bulge shown off by his worn jeans.
"Passenger door doesn't open too well from the inside," the man said, with a shrug, making no move to reach for the handle. "You got a kit?"
"Just me and my shadow." Jim's tongue skimmed across his upper lip, making an offer he was damn sure he shouldn't be making. The man's eyes narrowed appraisingly.
"Finish that before you get in," he said, leaning back against the car's side panel with a tight gesture toward the cigarette in Jim's hand. "Things'll kill you."
"Maybe I like taking chances."
"Why am I not surprised?" The breeze that had been teasing Jim swept the man's unruly dark hair up into a plume. He reached up, pulled a brown-wrapped cigarillo from behind his ear, eyebrows hitching upward over eyes fixed on Jim's face. "But I suppose you're not the only one."
Jim stood up straight, dug his lighter out of his jeans pocket, offered a hesitant flame. The other man leaned forward, catching Jim's wrist in his hand to bring the flame to the tip. The hard grip was electric - strange callouses holding him tight, warm thumb stroking over Jim's knuckles before he leaned back, free hand plucking the cigarillo from his lips so he could breathe out his own thin stream of smoke.
"You're a fighter." The observation was almost clinical in its casualness; he let go of Jim and settled back against the car again.
"I know how to take care of myself, yeah." He might have meant it as a warning, but what he heard in his own voice wasn't much of a threat.
"Know how to take care of other people, too, I'll bet."
"Done a lot of both." He dropped his cigarette near the toe of the man's boot, stepped in close so he could crush it out. "Take me to town first."
"Something wrong with right here?" A twinkle lit the man's eyes, hazel-green now that Jim was close enough to see them. He dug in his pocket for the car keys and held them out. "I'll let you hold onto those, if you're afraid of gettin' left out here again."
"What if someone drives by?" Jim took the keys slowly, slipped the keyring over his third finger, out of the way; thrills of fright running down his spine at the thought of getting spotted on his knees by the side of the road.
"How long were you standing here before I came along?" the stranger asked in return, after sending a smoke ring skyward.
"A point."
"A good one. Not to mention the part where just the idea of getting caught's already gone straight to your dick." The twinkle was still there, but the man's voice had gone dark and rough; desire or warning, Jim couldn't quite tell. "Now, unless there's something else you'd like to negotiate?"
Jim licked his lips again, smiled a little, and reached out to unbuckle his belt. The tall man tilted his head back and brought the cigarillo up to his mouth when Jim released the button on the formal black slacks, and he exhaled as Jim's fingertip pushed the zipper pull down the length of the firm erection that strained beneath.
Without a thought for the already-filthy knees of his jeans, Jim sank down onto the dirt-sifted surface of the highway shoulder, partly screened from the road by the car's front end, but any inquisitive soul headed uphill might still see what was going on if they looked the wrong way at the wrong time. Jim pushed the keys around their ring, to the back of his hand, and used deft fingers and palms to ease the slacks and underwear down enough to free the man's cock. The tail of the white shirt made a thin insulating layer between the car and his almost-naked ass.
"So pretty on your knees," the rough voice said. "Based on the state of those jeans, I'd say it's not your first time today, either."
He reached down, rested his broad hand on Jim's hair, and the casual, careless touch made the hairs on the back of his neck rise even as he nuzzled in close to lay kisses on the man's lower belly, the crease of his thigh, inhaling his rich scent. He was hungry for this, for the closeness, for the sex, and it was just a game for this handsome stranger, a lucky gift. Think what you want about me, his inner voice crooned, whatever will get you off.
"That what happened to you? Came out here thinking you were going to have some fun in the woods, only - what, had a fight with whoever you came with? Gave him an apology blow, an' found yourself stranded on the side of the road like a stray dog?" The man looked down at him, eyes veiled by long dark lashes, and his fingers stroked against Jim's scalp. "His loss."
Jim looked right back up at him, holding that intense gaze, nibbling the soft skin beneath the man's navel. He knew exactly how blue his eyes would look in the late afternoon sunlight, how their round innocence would contrast with the wanton mouth he allowed to fall open as he stroked his cheek back along the thick shaft. Not going to be an easy cock to swallow, but Jim's eager tongue flicked out to moisten the head, laving away the initial layer of rankness to savor the man-taste beneath. The first bitter-salty drops of fluid drew saliva into his mouth.
"That's right, dirty boy," the voice growled. "Show me all your tricks, all the things you know how to do with that mouth."
So that's what you really want...
He let the desire swell in his belly, let the pleasure centered in his aching groin flush throughout his body - no need to hide it, to pretend he didn't lust after this cock, this anonymous act. Jim looked up with a newly sinful, knowing expression, and slowly swirled his tongue across the smooth glans. His own dick throbbed in sympathy. He felt the layer of soft skin compressing against the hard, engorged flesh underneath, used his lips to capture and hold the head when it twitched involuntarily up from the tongue curling under the corona. And he watched the man struggle to maintain his disinterested mask, to keep smoking as if a roadside blow job was an everyday affair.
Are you really a bad man? Jim wondered, keeping their eyes locked while he took the fat tip fully into his mouth, teeth just barely touching skin behind the corona, lips stretching more comfortably around the girth of the shaft. Do you do this everywhere you go, watch for a lonely young man on the side of the road, someone who needs your help as much as you need to get your rocks off?
An almost-snarl blew wisps of exhaled smoke down toward him. Jim breathed heavily through his nose, drawing in the thick smells of tobacco and musk. He felt every fold of denim against his own iron-hard dick, every hair caught under the man's lax and heavy hand, every tiny chunk of gravel beneath his knees. The breezes sighed through the pines. He held the guy's hips, letting fingers stroke upwards against the hairs that lightly covered his ass: an intentionally irritating counterpoint to the soft heat he used to pull the man in another few centimeters.
Or are you a good man, who normally just dreams about this kind of adventure? Jim rippled his tongue against the underside of the cock, pausing its mindless forward push by pressing up against the roof of his mouth. Jim watched the man's eyes slide three-quarters closed, coppery sunlight glowing off the side of his rogue-handsome face, and worked his tongue forward and back again to gather more saliva.
Do you drive past tempting hitchhikers and look in the rear-view mirror, wishing you weren't so sensible about the possibilities of crime and disease and tomorrow's consequences? Did you lie in bed next to your sleeping spouse, fist on your hard prick under the blankets, thinking filthy thoughts about slutty boys with well-used mouths...?
"God-fucking-damn..."
The man's voice had dropped down, down, raspy and raw, sending shudders all through Jim.
I can be a slut for you.
Jim's hands dropped feverishly to his fly. He fumbled the buttons open and shoved the jeans down his thighs; his neck strained to keep his lips moving forward and back on the spit-wet portion of the man's cock. He gripped his freed dick in one hand, cradled his balls in the other, the car keys around the back of his finger jangling between his thighs. He panted through his nose and desperately wished he had something more up against his prostate than the memory of his own lubricated fingers.
"Don't..." the voice growled, and Jim tilted his gaze up sharply.
Hey, you can use me but you don't own me, his eyes said, smoldering and insolent, and he stroked the waves of pleasure higher. Jim drew back to cradle just the head in his lips, fluttered his tongue over the slit, watched the man's face contort helplessly. You wanted an eager whore, didn't you?
He slipped his mouth free for a moment with a wet kiss, brought his empty hand back up and circled the base of the man's cock with thumb and forefinger, mirroring the jingling grip he took on his own. He sucked in deep breaths, stroking the two of them in rhythm, and licked his red lips lavishly. Then he lifted the heavy cock to just the right angle, hitched forward on his knees and slid his slick mouth forward, taking the whole thing in to the root.
The cigarillo dropped to the ground.
"Oh, fuck," the man said, breathy and uneven; his hand clutched Jim's hair, nails and knuckles hard against the back of his head.
Jim's eyes closed, his world narrowed to the sensations in his mouth: warm flesh pressed against his tongue and palate, throat constricting reflexively, jaw stretched wide, lips sealed down tight. He stifled the instinctive urge to fight free, and little by little forced himself to calm under the constraining hand and the intrusion his body thought was trying to strangle him. His chest heaved, drawing what it needed through his nose, and the adrenaline found other pathways, tension melting into warmth, like fever chills settling once taut muscles are allowed to relax.
He let the gasping stranger do the moving, short involuntary thrusts shoving against the roof of his mouth; just kept wet lips and tongue snug against him, adding suction or not as the moment called for it.
"Greedy, goddamn, greedy beautiful bastard...."
He groaned in agreement, nudging hungrily forward so the man could feel the vibrations in his throat. Jim's heart pounded madly, and his dick throbbed in his hand. He didn't need to use the precautionary hold on the base of guy's cock to back him off or slow down his pleasure, so Jim milked it gently instead, in pulsing counterpoint to the motion of his lips. So good, to push his way into the guy's passions and fantasies this way, loosing his inhibitions and his control while the red-tinged sun glittered at the top of the spiky tree-silhouettes that surrounded them, stretching long bright rays and longer shadows across the highway and shoulder.
"Fucking hell, boy." The harsh rasp was at once blasphemy and prayer. Jim opened his eyes, locked gazes with him again, shameless lust burning in his eyes. The man's free hand fumbled against the hood behind him, pushing himself upright so his ass no longer braced against the car. Then he gripped the back of Jim's head with both hands and fucked Jim's mouth fast and shallow, grunting without restraint.
Jim's breath caught, held, and unfocused eyes slid half-closed again; he let his head tilt back in the strong cradling hands, let his slack mouth accept and accept and accept some more. The demanding thrusts stilled his hands where they gripped, until he heard the man's breathing sharpen, felt the fingers loosen on his hair and try to push him back. Jim made a sharp sound in his throat, brought both hands up and grappled fingers against tense buttocks, pulling him in deep once again.
"Ah! J-Jesus!"
His dick sent thrumming pulses up his spine and into his brain, pleasure and desire spiked by the intoxicating sounds the man made as he came, and the biting scent of fresh sweat over dust and fabric and old cologne, even the aches in his neck and jaw and the vicious demand his lungs made for more air. Jim held on tight to clenching thighs and backside, thrusting uselessly against nothing, tongue curving up the sides of the cock that spurted semen thick and bitter in the back of his mouth. When it had softened, he swallowed tightly and backed away, pulling in deep breaths of chill mountain air, chasing a trail of come off his swollen lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
Jim gazed upwards, panting, hoping he looked as thoroughly debauched and needy as he felt.
The man looked back, hazel eyes dazed and wondering, clumsily drawing fingers along Jim's jaw to cup his stubbled cheeks.
Jim's arms went limp, hands sliding down off the man's hips with a jingle; he realized he'd been digging his fingernails into the meat of the guy's ass. But the blow job was its own apology and Jim pulled his hands back to his crotch, desperate to get himself off before the guy tried to reclaim his car, make Jim ride down the mountain like this, hard and hungry - or drive off into the gathering twilight without him.
"Jesus Christ," the man finally breathed, grip sliding down to Jim's biceps. "I said, don't."
Lifted hard, Jim rose to his feet, a little unsteady on stiff joints. "Gonna return the favor, heh?" he challenged. "Soil those pretty slacks in the dirt?"
"Not a chance," the other man answered, pulling Jim forward in a sly move that turned him even as it tumbled him into the guy's warm chest. One arm went around him, capturing and supporting him hard across his torso, the other reaching down so the man could wrap his hand around Jim's dick.
"Nnngg...." Jim said, head falling back against the shoulder behind him, body jolting at the assured touch. His jeans slid another handspan down his thighs; he felt the off-center knot of the man's tie, the buttons on his dress shirt, pressing against his back through the thin tee shirt.
"I don't think I'm done with you yet," the man growled in his ear, starting with slow, short, frustrating strokes. "And what's more, I don't think you want me to be done with you, yet.
"Maybe I'll throw open the back of the car, sprawl you out along the seat and ride your greedy cock. At my pace. Until we're both sore with it. Until I'm hard and ready to get off again. And then maybe I'd let you come, or maybe not."
The filthy images blazed in Jim's mind; suggested sensation shuddered through his body. The man dipped his head down and nipped a bright spark onto Jim's throat, hand keeping up the maddeningly steady pace. His calloused grip was firm and a little too dry, though he regularly swept the tip, collecting and spreading pre-come while he clasped and massaged.
"Or maybe I'll give you that lift back to town, only instead of dropping you on the outskirts or at whatever dive you were headed back to, I'll take you to my hotel room."
Unsafe...insane...!
"They've got a cleaning service," he added, voice low and considering, "so I'd strip you out of those clothes, send them off, and then take my time opening you up on my fingers - and maybe even my tongue - and then fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit straight for a week."
Jim's legs twitched without conscious thought, jerking his ass back against the man's crotch; his mouth gaped open, his head rolling to one side. The man's mouth found his neck again; no gentle nip this time, but a solid bite near the corner of Jim's jaw, a savage sucking after his pulse with teeth and tongue, somehow in time with his hand on Jim's dick.
"Would you like that?" he said, blowing air over the sensitive spot, "me pounding into you? You're awfully cavalier about letting some stranger put his mark on you..."
Jim groaned, throaty and animal - he did want to be filled, fucked, he wanted more of this man, this stranger, this flirtation with danger.
In the embracing dusk, Jim struggled in vain for some semblance of wit, to remember where this conversation had started. He was electrified by the sudden recollection that he was writhing half-naked in these strong confining arms on a public roadside, no longer hidden behind the car. He might as well be splayed on the hood, the livid bruise throbbing on his neck to advertise to the world what this man had done to him, would do to him. Jim squeezed his eyes closed, strained his ears for the sound of any other cars, gasped high and fast as his cock got even harder against the man's accelerating fingers.
"Like...taking chances," he moaned, boots rasping in tiny helpless arcs on the gravelly pavement.
"You really do...." the man with his hand on Jim's dick breathed, dark amazement coloring his tone.
"Like...being...dirty for you...."
"Darlin'," the voice rumbled low and soft, "I am plumb thunderstruck discoverin' just how dirty you're willin' to be."
Jim felt the cool press of the tip of the man's nose against his cheek, bare thighs against his thighs, and still the unrelenting rhythm. Frenzied need rose through him, cresting hard and fast. His body convulsed, all his muscles trying to thrust his hips harder against the man's rock-solid grip.
"Buhh-huunh..." he croaked.
His face tightened, lip lifting in agonizing ecstasy. The arm that wasn't confined against his torso flailed outwards, then up and back until he could clutch fingers into the man's silky-dark hair and hang on tight, head tilted back and throat exposed to the darkening sky.
"That's right, beautiful," came the rapt, intense breath against his ear. "Come for me. Want t'watch you go to pieces in my hands..."
Jim's orgasm ripped through him like liquid lightning, wrenching loud and primal noises from deep in his chest. The arm stayed tight around him, keeping Jim on his feet when his knees wanted to buckle; he was gasping so heavily it was almost a sob, his forehead turned against the man's warm, solid neck.
"S'all right, I've got you. Not letting go. Wasn't never goin' to leave you on the side of the road."
Jim shuddered again, leaning heavily against the man's body, feeling loose and shaky, like he really had fallen to disconnected pieces. Ebbing waves of pleasure tingled through him - and sharpened at the sound of another car's engine approaching from the curve below.
Somehow they got their arms disentangled in a surge of adrenaline, two sets of hands dipping to yank their pants up. The man pulled Jim into his arms, their hearts pounding chest to chest. But the pair of headlights swept quietly across their embrace and continued uphill, disinterested - and Jim started to shake with laughter.
"Well, I'm glad you're amused," his partner said with a chuckle, shaking his head. One hand stroked warm up Jim's spine. "How are you not freezing in such a thin shirt?"
"Wasn't cold earlier. But now that you mention it...." Jim started to tuck his arms in closer between them, but cooperated when the man pushed him upright instead, and pulled the passenger door open.
"Go on, get in."
Jim slid into the seat with a grin. The door slammed, and he folded his hands around the car keys and tucked them between his thighs to warm up. Through the window, he watched the tall man look up and down the road before he tucked in his shirt and fastened his belt, looking oddly self-conscious, then paused in his trip around to the driver's side to grind something into the asphalt - what was left of the cigarillo, Jim assumed.
The man settled down behind the wheel, looking at Jim, and held out his hand with a raised eyebrow. Jim extended his left hand, with the keys dangling beneath, but lifted it just a little when the man reached for them.
"I want a fair trade," he said, with a little crooked smile.
The eyebrow hitched higher for just a moment, but then the man's face smoothed out and Jim got a wider smile in return. A sparkle brightened his hazel eyes.
"I think I have something here that might suit," he said, dipping fingers into the pocket of his white shirt, then lifting twin flashes of gold into the last rays of light. "That fair?"
"More than," Jim said, letting the keyring slide off into his other hand, spreading fingers so his partner could slip his wedding ring back into its accustomed groove around his finger. "Felt weird to be without it."
He snagged the other ring, caught the man's left wrist, fondled the second ring down into its place as well. Bones watched their hands, his thumb automatically sweeping over the smooth band once it was in place; the same unconscious gesture he'd made when they exchanged their vows.
"Not actually sure I could have gone through with it if we'd been wearing them," Bones said with a rueful laugh, looking as vibrant and relaxed as Jim had ever seen him on shore leave. "Figure I would have busted out laughing or just...froze up."
"Oh, I don't know," Jim said, tugging Bones' hand towards his face, nuzzling against the palm. "You didn't seem to have any trouble getting into the spirit of things."
Bones exhaled, sardonic familiarity fading a bit as Jim drew Bones' thumb into his mouth, stroking along the pad with his tongue.
"Hard not to, with that kinda temptation..." Bones knew he'd started with the wrong word, shook his head, but Jim just smirked at him silently and drew his lips back slow and wet.
"You're a revelation still, Bones," he said, husky and sweet. "Even after all these years. Such filthy language.... such naughty promises...."
A stranger's intense hazel eyes stared into Jim's. The man licked his lips, then seized the back of Jim's head, pulled him into a tempestuous lip-smashing kiss, pulling back only when another set of headlights raked into the car. In one continuous motion he shoved Jim towards his seat belt, whipped the keys into the ignition, and swung the car out into the night.
Author/Artist: yeomanrand and shinychimera
Pairing(s): Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17 (we may even be approaching XXX on this one, to be perfectly honest)
Summary: Jim Kirk's stuck on the side of the road. Will he risk taking a ride with a handsome stranger, and paying the necessary price?
Notes/Warnings: Nothing here should be triggery. Inspired by a Daily Captain/Daily Doctor post on jim_and_bones.
Disclaimer: We don't own any of this, and we do it all for love (but we don't do that).
A breeze riffled through Jim's short hair, then lost itself in the pines behind the road's edge. Leaning back against the iron guardrail, he took another drag on his cigarette, savoring the warmth in his lungs. He gazed down at the spot where the highway curved around the mountain slope, wishing there was more traffic. The day was still warm, but if someone didn't stop for him soon he was going to regret charging off without a jacket.
As it was, he wished he'd brought some tunes - birdsong wasn't really his thing, and his only other distraction was making him shift his stance uncomfortably. He finally held the cigarette in his lips long enough to unbutton and adjust before leaning back against the railing and crossing one leg over the other.
He was exhaling a stream of smoke when he heard the faint hum of tires on the road, saw the wink of sunlight reflecting off a car coming down the mountain. Tilted his head and squinted until he could tell there was only one silhouette in the car; ignored the accelerating heartbeat trying to warn him against taking the stupid, reckless risk, and stuck out his thumb.
The car glided to a stop on the shoulder. The window slid down.
The man behind it was a little scruffy, a little wild-looking in a rock star sort of way, but wearing a crisp white shirt and tie.
"Do you care where I'm headed, or do you just want off the mountain?"
"Town would be good."
The ghost of a nod, and the guy stopped the engine and pushed the driver's door open and got out. He came around to Jim's side of the car, making his heart thump a little harder - what was he doing? Fuck, the guy was tall. And good-looking. Broad shoulders under the expensive shirt. No ring, but a fine pale line of skin suggesting he'd worn one in the recent past. Dark eyes of indeterminate color, looking Jim up and down, not missing the persistent bulge shown off by his worn jeans.
"Passenger door doesn't open too well from the inside," the man said, with a shrug, making no move to reach for the handle. "You got a kit?"
"Just me and my shadow." Jim's tongue skimmed across his upper lip, making an offer he was damn sure he shouldn't be making. The man's eyes narrowed appraisingly.
"Finish that before you get in," he said, leaning back against the car's side panel with a tight gesture toward the cigarette in Jim's hand. "Things'll kill you."
"Maybe I like taking chances."
"Why am I not surprised?" The breeze that had been teasing Jim swept the man's unruly dark hair up into a plume. He reached up, pulled a brown-wrapped cigarillo from behind his ear, eyebrows hitching upward over eyes fixed on Jim's face. "But I suppose you're not the only one."
Jim stood up straight, dug his lighter out of his jeans pocket, offered a hesitant flame. The other man leaned forward, catching Jim's wrist in his hand to bring the flame to the tip. The hard grip was electric - strange callouses holding him tight, warm thumb stroking over Jim's knuckles before he leaned back, free hand plucking the cigarillo from his lips so he could breathe out his own thin stream of smoke.
"You're a fighter." The observation was almost clinical in its casualness; he let go of Jim and settled back against the car again.
"I know how to take care of myself, yeah." He might have meant it as a warning, but what he heard in his own voice wasn't much of a threat.
"Know how to take care of other people, too, I'll bet."
"Done a lot of both." He dropped his cigarette near the toe of the man's boot, stepped in close so he could crush it out. "Take me to town first."
"Something wrong with right here?" A twinkle lit the man's eyes, hazel-green now that Jim was close enough to see them. He dug in his pocket for the car keys and held them out. "I'll let you hold onto those, if you're afraid of gettin' left out here again."
"What if someone drives by?" Jim took the keys slowly, slipped the keyring over his third finger, out of the way; thrills of fright running down his spine at the thought of getting spotted on his knees by the side of the road.
"How long were you standing here before I came along?" the stranger asked in return, after sending a smoke ring skyward.
"A point."
"A good one. Not to mention the part where just the idea of getting caught's already gone straight to your dick." The twinkle was still there, but the man's voice had gone dark and rough; desire or warning, Jim couldn't quite tell. "Now, unless there's something else you'd like to negotiate?"
Jim licked his lips again, smiled a little, and reached out to unbuckle his belt. The tall man tilted his head back and brought the cigarillo up to his mouth when Jim released the button on the formal black slacks, and he exhaled as Jim's fingertip pushed the zipper pull down the length of the firm erection that strained beneath.
Without a thought for the already-filthy knees of his jeans, Jim sank down onto the dirt-sifted surface of the highway shoulder, partly screened from the road by the car's front end, but any inquisitive soul headed uphill might still see what was going on if they looked the wrong way at the wrong time. Jim pushed the keys around their ring, to the back of his hand, and used deft fingers and palms to ease the slacks and underwear down enough to free the man's cock. The tail of the white shirt made a thin insulating layer between the car and his almost-naked ass.
"So pretty on your knees," the rough voice said. "Based on the state of those jeans, I'd say it's not your first time today, either."
He reached down, rested his broad hand on Jim's hair, and the casual, careless touch made the hairs on the back of his neck rise even as he nuzzled in close to lay kisses on the man's lower belly, the crease of his thigh, inhaling his rich scent. He was hungry for this, for the closeness, for the sex, and it was just a game for this handsome stranger, a lucky gift. Think what you want about me, his inner voice crooned, whatever will get you off.
"That what happened to you? Came out here thinking you were going to have some fun in the woods, only - what, had a fight with whoever you came with? Gave him an apology blow, an' found yourself stranded on the side of the road like a stray dog?" The man looked down at him, eyes veiled by long dark lashes, and his fingers stroked against Jim's scalp. "His loss."
Jim looked right back up at him, holding that intense gaze, nibbling the soft skin beneath the man's navel. He knew exactly how blue his eyes would look in the late afternoon sunlight, how their round innocence would contrast with the wanton mouth he allowed to fall open as he stroked his cheek back along the thick shaft. Not going to be an easy cock to swallow, but Jim's eager tongue flicked out to moisten the head, laving away the initial layer of rankness to savor the man-taste beneath. The first bitter-salty drops of fluid drew saliva into his mouth.
"That's right, dirty boy," the voice growled. "Show me all your tricks, all the things you know how to do with that mouth."
So that's what you really want...
He let the desire swell in his belly, let the pleasure centered in his aching groin flush throughout his body - no need to hide it, to pretend he didn't lust after this cock, this anonymous act. Jim looked up with a newly sinful, knowing expression, and slowly swirled his tongue across the smooth glans. His own dick throbbed in sympathy. He felt the layer of soft skin compressing against the hard, engorged flesh underneath, used his lips to capture and hold the head when it twitched involuntarily up from the tongue curling under the corona. And he watched the man struggle to maintain his disinterested mask, to keep smoking as if a roadside blow job was an everyday affair.
Are you really a bad man? Jim wondered, keeping their eyes locked while he took the fat tip fully into his mouth, teeth just barely touching skin behind the corona, lips stretching more comfortably around the girth of the shaft. Do you do this everywhere you go, watch for a lonely young man on the side of the road, someone who needs your help as much as you need to get your rocks off?
An almost-snarl blew wisps of exhaled smoke down toward him. Jim breathed heavily through his nose, drawing in the thick smells of tobacco and musk. He felt every fold of denim against his own iron-hard dick, every hair caught under the man's lax and heavy hand, every tiny chunk of gravel beneath his knees. The breezes sighed through the pines. He held the guy's hips, letting fingers stroke upwards against the hairs that lightly covered his ass: an intentionally irritating counterpoint to the soft heat he used to pull the man in another few centimeters.
Or are you a good man, who normally just dreams about this kind of adventure? Jim rippled his tongue against the underside of the cock, pausing its mindless forward push by pressing up against the roof of his mouth. Jim watched the man's eyes slide three-quarters closed, coppery sunlight glowing off the side of his rogue-handsome face, and worked his tongue forward and back again to gather more saliva.
Do you drive past tempting hitchhikers and look in the rear-view mirror, wishing you weren't so sensible about the possibilities of crime and disease and tomorrow's consequences? Did you lie in bed next to your sleeping spouse, fist on your hard prick under the blankets, thinking filthy thoughts about slutty boys with well-used mouths...?
"God-fucking-damn..."
The man's voice had dropped down, down, raspy and raw, sending shudders all through Jim.
I can be a slut for you.
Jim's hands dropped feverishly to his fly. He fumbled the buttons open and shoved the jeans down his thighs; his neck strained to keep his lips moving forward and back on the spit-wet portion of the man's cock. He gripped his freed dick in one hand, cradled his balls in the other, the car keys around the back of his finger jangling between his thighs. He panted through his nose and desperately wished he had something more up against his prostate than the memory of his own lubricated fingers.
"Don't..." the voice growled, and Jim tilted his gaze up sharply.
Hey, you can use me but you don't own me, his eyes said, smoldering and insolent, and he stroked the waves of pleasure higher. Jim drew back to cradle just the head in his lips, fluttered his tongue over the slit, watched the man's face contort helplessly. You wanted an eager whore, didn't you?
He slipped his mouth free for a moment with a wet kiss, brought his empty hand back up and circled the base of the man's cock with thumb and forefinger, mirroring the jingling grip he took on his own. He sucked in deep breaths, stroking the two of them in rhythm, and licked his red lips lavishly. Then he lifted the heavy cock to just the right angle, hitched forward on his knees and slid his slick mouth forward, taking the whole thing in to the root.
The cigarillo dropped to the ground.
"Oh, fuck," the man said, breathy and uneven; his hand clutched Jim's hair, nails and knuckles hard against the back of his head.
Jim's eyes closed, his world narrowed to the sensations in his mouth: warm flesh pressed against his tongue and palate, throat constricting reflexively, jaw stretched wide, lips sealed down tight. He stifled the instinctive urge to fight free, and little by little forced himself to calm under the constraining hand and the intrusion his body thought was trying to strangle him. His chest heaved, drawing what it needed through his nose, and the adrenaline found other pathways, tension melting into warmth, like fever chills settling once taut muscles are allowed to relax.
He let the gasping stranger do the moving, short involuntary thrusts shoving against the roof of his mouth; just kept wet lips and tongue snug against him, adding suction or not as the moment called for it.
"Greedy, goddamn, greedy beautiful bastard...."
He groaned in agreement, nudging hungrily forward so the man could feel the vibrations in his throat. Jim's heart pounded madly, and his dick throbbed in his hand. He didn't need to use the precautionary hold on the base of guy's cock to back him off or slow down his pleasure, so Jim milked it gently instead, in pulsing counterpoint to the motion of his lips. So good, to push his way into the guy's passions and fantasies this way, loosing his inhibitions and his control while the red-tinged sun glittered at the top of the spiky tree-silhouettes that surrounded them, stretching long bright rays and longer shadows across the highway and shoulder.
"Fucking hell, boy." The harsh rasp was at once blasphemy and prayer. Jim opened his eyes, locked gazes with him again, shameless lust burning in his eyes. The man's free hand fumbled against the hood behind him, pushing himself upright so his ass no longer braced against the car. Then he gripped the back of Jim's head with both hands and fucked Jim's mouth fast and shallow, grunting without restraint.
Jim's breath caught, held, and unfocused eyes slid half-closed again; he let his head tilt back in the strong cradling hands, let his slack mouth accept and accept and accept some more. The demanding thrusts stilled his hands where they gripped, until he heard the man's breathing sharpen, felt the fingers loosen on his hair and try to push him back. Jim made a sharp sound in his throat, brought both hands up and grappled fingers against tense buttocks, pulling him in deep once again.
"Ah! J-Jesus!"
His dick sent thrumming pulses up his spine and into his brain, pleasure and desire spiked by the intoxicating sounds the man made as he came, and the biting scent of fresh sweat over dust and fabric and old cologne, even the aches in his neck and jaw and the vicious demand his lungs made for more air. Jim held on tight to clenching thighs and backside, thrusting uselessly against nothing, tongue curving up the sides of the cock that spurted semen thick and bitter in the back of his mouth. When it had softened, he swallowed tightly and backed away, pulling in deep breaths of chill mountain air, chasing a trail of come off his swollen lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
Jim gazed upwards, panting, hoping he looked as thoroughly debauched and needy as he felt.
The man looked back, hazel eyes dazed and wondering, clumsily drawing fingers along Jim's jaw to cup his stubbled cheeks.
Jim's arms went limp, hands sliding down off the man's hips with a jingle; he realized he'd been digging his fingernails into the meat of the guy's ass. But the blow job was its own apology and Jim pulled his hands back to his crotch, desperate to get himself off before the guy tried to reclaim his car, make Jim ride down the mountain like this, hard and hungry - or drive off into the gathering twilight without him.
"Jesus Christ," the man finally breathed, grip sliding down to Jim's biceps. "I said, don't."
Lifted hard, Jim rose to his feet, a little unsteady on stiff joints. "Gonna return the favor, heh?" he challenged. "Soil those pretty slacks in the dirt?"
"Not a chance," the other man answered, pulling Jim forward in a sly move that turned him even as it tumbled him into the guy's warm chest. One arm went around him, capturing and supporting him hard across his torso, the other reaching down so the man could wrap his hand around Jim's dick.
"Nnngg...." Jim said, head falling back against the shoulder behind him, body jolting at the assured touch. His jeans slid another handspan down his thighs; he felt the off-center knot of the man's tie, the buttons on his dress shirt, pressing against his back through the thin tee shirt.
"I don't think I'm done with you yet," the man growled in his ear, starting with slow, short, frustrating strokes. "And what's more, I don't think you want me to be done with you, yet.
"Maybe I'll throw open the back of the car, sprawl you out along the seat and ride your greedy cock. At my pace. Until we're both sore with it. Until I'm hard and ready to get off again. And then maybe I'd let you come, or maybe not."
The filthy images blazed in Jim's mind; suggested sensation shuddered through his body. The man dipped his head down and nipped a bright spark onto Jim's throat, hand keeping up the maddeningly steady pace. His calloused grip was firm and a little too dry, though he regularly swept the tip, collecting and spreading pre-come while he clasped and massaged.
"Or maybe I'll give you that lift back to town, only instead of dropping you on the outskirts or at whatever dive you were headed back to, I'll take you to my hotel room."
Unsafe...insane...!
"They've got a cleaning service," he added, voice low and considering, "so I'd strip you out of those clothes, send them off, and then take my time opening you up on my fingers - and maybe even my tongue - and then fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit straight for a week."
Jim's legs twitched without conscious thought, jerking his ass back against the man's crotch; his mouth gaped open, his head rolling to one side. The man's mouth found his neck again; no gentle nip this time, but a solid bite near the corner of Jim's jaw, a savage sucking after his pulse with teeth and tongue, somehow in time with his hand on Jim's dick.
"Would you like that?" he said, blowing air over the sensitive spot, "me pounding into you? You're awfully cavalier about letting some stranger put his mark on you..."
Jim groaned, throaty and animal - he did want to be filled, fucked, he wanted more of this man, this stranger, this flirtation with danger.
In the embracing dusk, Jim struggled in vain for some semblance of wit, to remember where this conversation had started. He was electrified by the sudden recollection that he was writhing half-naked in these strong confining arms on a public roadside, no longer hidden behind the car. He might as well be splayed on the hood, the livid bruise throbbing on his neck to advertise to the world what this man had done to him, would do to him. Jim squeezed his eyes closed, strained his ears for the sound of any other cars, gasped high and fast as his cock got even harder against the man's accelerating fingers.
"Like...taking chances," he moaned, boots rasping in tiny helpless arcs on the gravelly pavement.
"You really do...." the man with his hand on Jim's dick breathed, dark amazement coloring his tone.
"Like...being...dirty for you...."
"Darlin'," the voice rumbled low and soft, "I am plumb thunderstruck discoverin' just how dirty you're willin' to be."
Jim felt the cool press of the tip of the man's nose against his cheek, bare thighs against his thighs, and still the unrelenting rhythm. Frenzied need rose through him, cresting hard and fast. His body convulsed, all his muscles trying to thrust his hips harder against the man's rock-solid grip.
"Buhh-huunh..." he croaked.
His face tightened, lip lifting in agonizing ecstasy. The arm that wasn't confined against his torso flailed outwards, then up and back until he could clutch fingers into the man's silky-dark hair and hang on tight, head tilted back and throat exposed to the darkening sky.
"That's right, beautiful," came the rapt, intense breath against his ear. "Come for me. Want t'watch you go to pieces in my hands..."
Jim's orgasm ripped through him like liquid lightning, wrenching loud and primal noises from deep in his chest. The arm stayed tight around him, keeping Jim on his feet when his knees wanted to buckle; he was gasping so heavily it was almost a sob, his forehead turned against the man's warm, solid neck.
"S'all right, I've got you. Not letting go. Wasn't never goin' to leave you on the side of the road."
Jim shuddered again, leaning heavily against the man's body, feeling loose and shaky, like he really had fallen to disconnected pieces. Ebbing waves of pleasure tingled through him - and sharpened at the sound of another car's engine approaching from the curve below.
Somehow they got their arms disentangled in a surge of adrenaline, two sets of hands dipping to yank their pants up. The man pulled Jim into his arms, their hearts pounding chest to chest. But the pair of headlights swept quietly across their embrace and continued uphill, disinterested - and Jim started to shake with laughter.
"Well, I'm glad you're amused," his partner said with a chuckle, shaking his head. One hand stroked warm up Jim's spine. "How are you not freezing in such a thin shirt?"
"Wasn't cold earlier. But now that you mention it...." Jim started to tuck his arms in closer between them, but cooperated when the man pushed him upright instead, and pulled the passenger door open.
"Go on, get in."
Jim slid into the seat with a grin. The door slammed, and he folded his hands around the car keys and tucked them between his thighs to warm up. Through the window, he watched the tall man look up and down the road before he tucked in his shirt and fastened his belt, looking oddly self-conscious, then paused in his trip around to the driver's side to grind something into the asphalt - what was left of the cigarillo, Jim assumed.
The man settled down behind the wheel, looking at Jim, and held out his hand with a raised eyebrow. Jim extended his left hand, with the keys dangling beneath, but lifted it just a little when the man reached for them.
"I want a fair trade," he said, with a little crooked smile.
The eyebrow hitched higher for just a moment, but then the man's face smoothed out and Jim got a wider smile in return. A sparkle brightened his hazel eyes.
"I think I have something here that might suit," he said, dipping fingers into the pocket of his white shirt, then lifting twin flashes of gold into the last rays of light. "That fair?"
"More than," Jim said, letting the keyring slide off into his other hand, spreading fingers so his partner could slip his wedding ring back into its accustomed groove around his finger. "Felt weird to be without it."
He snagged the other ring, caught the man's left wrist, fondled the second ring down into its place as well. Bones watched their hands, his thumb automatically sweeping over the smooth band once it was in place; the same unconscious gesture he'd made when they exchanged their vows.
"Not actually sure I could have gone through with it if we'd been wearing them," Bones said with a rueful laugh, looking as vibrant and relaxed as Jim had ever seen him on shore leave. "Figure I would have busted out laughing or just...froze up."
"Oh, I don't know," Jim said, tugging Bones' hand towards his face, nuzzling against the palm. "You didn't seem to have any trouble getting into the spirit of things."
Bones exhaled, sardonic familiarity fading a bit as Jim drew Bones' thumb into his mouth, stroking along the pad with his tongue.
"Hard not to, with that kinda temptation..." Bones knew he'd started with the wrong word, shook his head, but Jim just smirked at him silently and drew his lips back slow and wet.
"You're a revelation still, Bones," he said, husky and sweet. "Even after all these years. Such filthy language.... such naughty promises...."
A stranger's intense hazel eyes stared into Jim's. The man licked his lips, then seized the back of Jim's head, pulled him into a tempestuous lip-smashing kiss, pulling back only when another set of headlights raked into the car. In one continuous motion he shoved Jim towards his seat belt, whipped the keys into the ignition, and swung the car out into the night.