Chapter 3: Tim Price
The smell of the garage was a constant, a second skin that Austin wore as comfortably as his worn-out jeans. It was the scent of honest labor, of grease and metal and hot rubber, a world away from the cloying perfume of his mother’s drunken evenings or the sterile, temporary scent of a hotel room. He was just finishing the replacement of shock absorbers on a rusted-out Jeep Cherokee, the final, definitive click, as the lift completed its downward journey gave Austin a sense of satisfaction. He barely heard the bell over the office door when it chimed.
“Customer for you, Austin!” Jerry’s voice bellowed from the office, followed by a fit of phlegmy coughing.
Austin wiped his hands on a rag that felt more like a piece of sandpaper than cloth and tossed it onto his tool chest. He unzipped his coveralls, letting them hang around his waist, and walked into the small, cluttered office, his practiced customer-service smile already in place.
The man standing by the counter was a study in quiet desperation. He was probably in his mid-thirties, with thinning brown hair, a pale complexion, and a face that seemed permanently set in a worried frown. He wore a short-sleeved button-down shirt that was slightly too tight in the shoulders and a pair of ill-fitting dress slacks. He clutched a set of keys in his hand like a lifeline, his knuckles white.
“Hi, I’m Tim Price,” he said, his voice a nervous tenor. “My car… it’s making a terrible noise.”
“No problem, Tim. Let’s take a look,” Austin said, his voice calm and reassuring. “What kind of noise are we talking about?”
“It’s a… a grinding kind of sound. From the back. It only happens when I brake.”
Austin’s mind immediately went to brake pads, possibly a worn-out rotor. A straightforward, profitable job. “Alright, pull it around and I’ll get it up on the lift.”
Tim nodded gratefully and scurried out to the parking lot. Austin watched him go, noting the way he walked, a slight hunch to his shoulders as if he were carrying an invisible weight. This wasn’t a man like Lionel, exuding quiet power, or Mike, with his easy, athletic confidence. This was a man who looked like he apologized for taking up space. And in Austin’s world, that made him interesting prey.
Tim drove a sensible, forgettable sedan, a few years old, with a child’s car seat in the back. Austin noted the detail with a flicker of interest. A family man. That always added a certain piquancy to the game.
He drove the car into the bay and engaged the lift, raising it with a smooth hydraulic hum. As he suspected, the rear brake pads on the driver’s side were worn down to the metal, the rotor scored and grooved. It was a mess.
“Yeah, Tim, you were right to bring it in,” Austin said, pointing up at the damage with a pen. “These pads are completely shot. They’ve been grinding into the rotor. We’ll have to replace the pads on both sides, and we’ll have to cut or replace the rotors to get a smooth surface again.”
Tim’s face fell. “Oh. Is… is that expensive?”
“Not too bad,” Austin said, laying on the charm. “I can give you a good deal. It’s a safety issue, so you definitely want to get it done. Can’t have you not being able to stop for your little one.” He gestured with his chin towards the car seat in the back.
Tim’s expression softened slightly, the mention of his child clearly a point of leverage. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay. Do what you have to do.”
As Austin worked, replacing the pads and machining the rotors, he formulated his approach. Tim was not a man who would respond to a direct, aggressive come-on like the one he often used. He was too timid, too risk-averse. This would require a different kind of hunt, a slower, more patient stalk. He would have to present himself as a solution, a safe harbor in a sea of anxiety.
He finished the job, lowered the car, moved the car seat to the trunk, and took it for a quick test drive around the block. The brakes were now smooth and silent. Perfect. He parked it back just outside the last bay and went to find Tim, who was pacing nervously in the waiting room.
“All set,” Austin announced, clapping his hands together. “Brakes are like new. You’re all safe.”
Tim let out a long, audible sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I was so worried.”
“No need to worry anymore,” Austin said, leaning against the doorframe, his posture open and friendly. “You’re good to go for another fifty thousand miles, easy.”
He wrote up the invoice, giving Tim the “good deal” he had promised, a small discount that would make the man feel like he’d gotten special treatment. Tim paid with a credit card, his hand trembling slightly as he signed the receipt.
“Listen, Tim,” Austin said, his voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. “You seem like you’re carrying a lot of stress. Everything okay?”
Tim was taken aback by the question. He looked down at his shoes, then back up at Austin. He seemed to be debating whether or not to confide in a total stranger. The conflict was plain on his face. “Just… life, you know? Work. The kid. It’s a lot.”
“I get it,” Austin said, nodding sympathetically. “Sometimes you just need a break. A little… release.”
He let the word hang in the air, loaded with implication. He saw Tim’s throat bob as he swallowed. The man was interested. He was just terrified.
“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Tim stammered, but his eyes told a different story.
“Sure you do,” Austin said, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step closer. He kept his movements non-threatening, his gaze open and direct. “Everyone needs to feel something good, something just for them, every once in a while. Something that has nothing to do with work or responsibilities.”
Tim was silent, his breathing shallow. He was cornered, but he wasn’t running. He was a rabbit caught in a snare, and he was about to find out he didn’t want to escape.
“Look,” Austin said, his voice now a low, persuasive murmur. “I get off in about thirty minutes. Why don’t you stick around? We can… talk. Or not talk. Whatever you want.”
Tim looked around the empty waiting room, as if expecting someone to jump out and yell “Surprise!” He was waging a war with himself, and Austin could see the desire winning.
“I… I can’t,” Tim whispered, but it was a weak protest. “My wife…”
“Doesn’t have to know,” Austin finished for him. “This is just for you. No one else ever has to know.”
He reached out and gently brushed a piece of imaginary lint from Tim’s shoulder. The contact was light, almost paternal, but it sent a visible shudder through Tim’s body. That was all it took. The dam broke.
“Okay,” Tim breathed, the word so quiet it was almost inaudible. “Okay.”
Less than an hour later, the garage was dark and silent, the only light coming from the single bulb over the office door. Austin had finished his cleanup, and Tim was waiting for him in the parking lot, sitting in his newly repaired sedan. Austin walked over and got into the passenger seat.
“So,” Tim began, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “What now?”
“Now we go for a little drive,” Austin said, his voice calm and in control. “Find a quiet spot.”
Tim nodded, his jaw tight with a mixture of fear and anticipation. He drove out of the lot and onto the deserted streets, the city lights blurring past them. He seemed to be on autopilot, his mind a million miles away. Austin directed him towards an industrial park on the edge of town, a place that was deserted after dark. He had him park behind a large, windowless warehouse, away from the street.
“Kill the engine,” Austin commanded.
Tim did as he was told, the sudden silence in the car feeling heavy and absolute. They sat there for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine.
“Now what?” Tim asked, his voice trembling.
“Now you relax,” Austin said, turning in his seat to face him. He reached over and took Tim’s hand, prying his fingers from the steering wheel. Tim’s hand was cold and clammy. “And let me take care of you.”
He leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, gentle kiss, designed to soothe, to reassure. Tim was stiff at first, his lips unresponsive, but he gradually softened, his body yielding to the gentle pressure. Austin deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing Tim’s lips, coaxing them open. He felt Tim let out a shaky sigh, a final surrender.
Austin’s hand moved to Tim’s lap, resting on the growing bulge in his trousers. Tim moaned into his mouth, his hips arching slightly. Austin smiled to himself. The rabbit was his.
He undid Tim’s belt and zipper, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached inside and freed Tim’s cock, which was surprisingly thick and hard. It was a testament to the man’s pent-up frustration.
“Just lean back,” Austin whispered, his breath hot against Tim’s ear. “Let me do all the work.”
He bent down and took Tim into his mouth. Tim cried out, his hands flying to Austin’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair. Austin went to work, his mouth a perfect, wet heat. He used all the skill he’d honed, the techniques that had made men like Mike gasp in disbelief. He took Tim deep, his throat relaxing, his tongue working the sensitive underside. He was methodical, almost clinical, his goal not just to please, but to overwhelm, to short-circuit Tim’s anxious brain with pure, unadulterated sensation.
Tim was completely at his mercy. He was no longer the worried father or the stressed-out employee; he was just a body, a nerve ending, a vessel for the pleasure Austin was pouring into him. His hips bucked erratically, his breath coming in ragged, desperate pants. “Oh, God… Austin… I can’t… I’m gonna…”
Austin pulled back, edging him perfectly, leaving him trembling on the precipice. “Not yet,” he said, his voice a low command. He sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Your turn.”
He unbuckled his own jeans and pushed them down to his knees, his own cock hard and demanding. Tim looked at it, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. He’d clearly never done this before.
“I… I don’t know how,” Tim stammered.
“It’s easy,” Austin said, his voice gentle but firm. He took Tim’s hand and wrapped it around his shaft. “Just do what feels natural. Use your tongue.”
Tim hesitantly leaned forward, his movements clumsy and uncertain. He took Austin into his mouth, his teeth scraping lightly. Austin winced but didn’t pull back. He let Tim fumble for a moment, guiding him with soft murmurs and gentle pressure on the back of his head. It wasn’t good, but it was enthusiastic, and that was enough for now. After a few minutes, Austin gently pushed him away.
“Good boy,” he said, the praise making Tim’s face flush with a strange mix of shame and pride. “But that’s not what I really want from you.”
He looked Tim directly in the eyes. “I want to fuck you.”
The words hung in the air, blunt and absolute. Tim’s face went pale. “I… I can’t. I’ve never… It’s too much.”
“Shhh,” Austin soothed, stroking his cheek. “It’s not too much. It’s exactly what you need. You need to let go. You need someone to take all that stress, all that worry, and just fuck it out of you. Let me do that for you, Tim.”
He was painting a picture, offering Tim a narrative he could lose himself in. It wasn’t just sex; it was therapy, a release. He could see the internal battle raging in Tim’s eyes, the terror warring with the desperate, primal need to be dominated, to be taken care of in the most primal way possible.
“Please,” Austin whispered, his voice a seductive caress. “Let me in.”
Finally, Tim nodded, a single, jerky motion of capitulation. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”
“Get in the back,” Austin commanded.
Tim fumbled with his seatbelt, then scrambled awkwardly over the console into the back seat. It was a cramped space, the parking lot lights, off in the distance, casting a weak glow. Austin followed, his movements fluid and predatory. He positioned Tim on his hands and knees on the back seat, his face pressed against the scratchy upholstery.
“Just relax,” Austin said, his voice now hard, all pretense of gentleness gone. He retrieved a small bottle of lube and a condom from his wallet. He prepped Tim quickly, his fingers firm and insistent, stretching him, preparing him for what was to come. Tim was trembling, his body a taut wire of anticipation and fear.
Austin rolled the condom onto his cock and slicked it with lube. He positioned himself behind Tim, his hands gripping the other man’s hips, holding him in place.
“Take a deep breath,” he warned.
Then, with one powerful, relentless thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
Tim cried out, a raw, pained sound that was quickly muffled by the seat cushions. It was a brutal intrusion, a complete and total possession. It was like his first time. There was no gentleness here, no slow, seductive rhythm. This was a punishment. A release. A catharsis.
Austin began to move, his thrusts slow, but deep and merciless. He was fucking Tim completely, his hips pushing against Tim’s ass with a wet, rhythmic sound. He was taking out all of his own frustrations, his own emptiness, on this man’s body. He was using him, and in doing so, giving him exactly what he had asked for.
Tim was groaning, his body rocking with the force of Austin’s thrusts. But they weren’t sounds of pain. They were the deep guttural sounds of a man who was beginning to enjoy the primal feeling of getting fucked. He was finally letting go, letting the stress and the worry and the fear be fucked out of him, pounded into submission by this beautiful, dangerous boy.
Austin reached around and grabbed Tim’s cock, which was still rock hard. He began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, his hand a blur of motion.
“Come for me, Tim,” he growled, his voice a harsh command. “Let it all go.”
Tim didn’t need any more encouragement. With a final, shuddering sob, he came, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing in Austin’s grip, spilling his release all over the back seat of his own car.
The feeling of Tim’s orgasm, the clenching of his muscles around his cock, sent Austin over the edge. He drove himself deep one last time, his own release tearing through him with a violent intensity. He collapsed onto Tim’s back, his body heaving, his heart hammering against his ribs.
They lay there for a long moment, a tangle of sweaty limbs in the cramped back seat; the only sound was their ragged breathing. The air in the car was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and tears.
Finally, Austin stirred, pushing himself up. He pulled out and disposed of the condom, tucking himself back into his jeans. He looked at Tim, who was a mess, his face streaked with tears, his body limp and spent.
“Get dressed,” Austin said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
Tim slowly, painfully, pulled himself together, fumbling with his clothes. He looked at Austin, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a confusing mix of gratitude, shame, and awe.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.
“Then don’t say anything,” Austin said, opening the car door. He got out and stood by the passenger door, waiting. Tim finally climbed out of the back seat and got back behind the wheel. He looked shell-shocked, like a soldier who had just survived his first battle.
Austin leaned in the open window. “Your brakes are fine now. Drive safe.”
He turned and walked away without looking back, melting into the shadows of the industrial park. He heard the engine turn over, the sound of Tim’s car driving away into the night. He felt a sense of satisfaction, a job well done. He had given the man what he needed, what he was too afraid to even ask for.
But as he started the long walk home, a different feeling began to creep in. It wasn’t the hollow ache he’d felt with Mike, or the clean victory of Lionel. It was something darker. A sense of his own capacity for cruelty, for using a person’s weakness not just for his own pleasure, but to inflict a kind of healing violence. He had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed the power, the control, the feeling of breaking another man down and remaking him in his own image.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked faster, trying to outrun the thought. But it was no use. He knew, with a cold certainty, that a part of him liked the darkness a little too much. And that was a far more dangerous thing than any lonely ache.
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