The Mechanic

Cy stood at the front of his old truck staring at the engine wondering what was wrong. It would start but ran roughly and sometimes when at a stop sign it would idle irregularly then shut off. He had made it to the store at Mill Creek Road and debated whether to turn left and go back home or to turn right and head toward Pineville, the nearest town where their mechanic operated a shop. Home was closer, much closer, and it could be something his father and he might be able to repair easily. Glancing at his watch he saw it was almost four, so if he was going to Mason’s Auto Repair he had to go now. Hesitating at the front of the truck, hands on the hood, he wondered if this was something that would need parts. He knew the carburetor was the original one, for he had taken it off and cleaned it up once knowing sooner or later it would need to be replaced. The way the truck was running indicated that was probably the problem.

The hood squeaked as Cy pulled it down and made a hard-metallic sound as it latched into place. He moved back to the open driver’s door and climbed into the cab, sliding onto the bench seat with its torn seam on the side and vinyl surface worn and faded. He pulled the door closed behind him, the hinges squeaking as he slammed it shut. Turning the key, the motor turned over, hesitantly the first revolution then faster and faster till it started. He pumped the accelerator, revving the old in-line six till it sounded like it was running okay.

The truck had three-on-the-tree and with the clutch depressed Cy shifted into first and pulled back onto the road. At the stop sign he turned right and pumping the accelerator to get the truck to move, he headed toward town. Windows down the hot humid air swirled through the cabin as he drove along the narrow two-lane highway passing the Harris Dairy, then the Sheffield’s old place with its two-story farm house with grey weathered boards and windows long ago shot out by some of the local boys who trespassed on the property. The road curved then dropped steeply down where he crossed Snake Head Creek, the narrow branch barely flowing in the dry summer months. On the next plateau Cy eased along at forty-five miles per hour, the tires noisy on the pavement and the steering so loose he had to work it back and forth to stay on the straight road.

It took thirty minutes to get to Mason’s and he pulled into the dirt parking lot up to the old metal building, its blue panels faded in the sun and the plastic sign over the door to the small office was cracked across its face. For Cy, in the eleven years he had been coming here with his dad, ever since he was eight, this is how the place has always looked. In the parking lot were various vehicles, more SUVs than anything else, all of them at least four or five years old, their warranties long since expired.

Cy found the office empty, which didn’t surprise him for Charles typically was in the shop area. He walked through the small one room office to the door leading to the shop where he found vehicles parked everywhere, some jacked up at one corner or another and a couple hoisted up, wheels off exposing their suspensions. He saw Charles leaning over the fender of an old Camaro and at one hoist Sam was holding a light up to the underside of an engine. His dad told him Sam had been here since the first year Charles had opened the shop.  Working his way through the shop he came up to the front of the Camaro where Charles could see him.

“Mr. Mason” said Cy raising his voice over the noise in the shop.

“Oh hey, you’re Hank’s son…Seth?”

“Cy.”

“Cy…sorry I can never remember names. What can I do for you?”

“My truck is running rough. I think it is the carburetor.”

“You still have that old Chevy?”

“Yeah, nineteen seventy-five with the in-line six.”

“And three-on-the-tree” replied Charles laughing, for few trucks came to him with that transmission any more, especially not owned by someone as young as Cy. “You haven’t traded that old thing yet?”

“No sir. Things on the farm were rough the last couple of years and…well, I just need to keep driving it a while longer.”

“I understand. I drove a ten-year old seventy-two Ford Torino till the wheels fell off when I was your age. We’re about to close up but pull around back and into the last bay over there and let’s take a quick look.”

“Thanks Mr. Mason” Cy replied as he headed toward the open garage door facing the front, making his way around a Cherokee with its dash pulled out, wires sticking out everywhere. He climbed into his truck, got it started, pumping the accelerator till the engine began to idle properly then pulled around the garage to the rear. He pulled into the last bay where Charles and another guy stood waiting. Cy tried not to stare but he couldn’t help it as he pulled in. The guy had a cap on, pulled low over his eyes shadowing his face, but Cy could see his arms, completely bare, with the sleeves torn off the shirt he wore. Just enough definition to be considered muscular and smeared with grease and grime all the way to the elbows. He stood taller than Charles who was his own height of five ten, and had a lean body. Cy wondered who he was, curious in a way that was fueled by his secret, the secret he carried all through school and for the last year since. Whenever he saw a guy he felt attracted toward he avoided them, kept his distance, for to do otherwise was to invite disaster.

“Leave it running” Charles yelled out as Cy stopped in front of them, pulling the truck into neutral and setting the parking brake. He released the hood and climbed out as the hood rose up.

Cy felt his heart race as he stood at the fender glancing over at the guy standing next to Charles even as he told himself not to. In a few quick glances he could picture the guy, the profile of his face, how his beard came in scraggly along his jaw, how his nose turned up slightly at the end. His hair was long enough to curl out from the under the cap, dark brown in color. On the right bicep was a tattoo, a pattern that look Native-American and Cy noticed how the arm had definition, not from working out in a gym but from manual labor or just good genes. The skin had an olive tone and was smooth looking, with no apparent hair along its length.

Cy wondered if he was part Native-American, with his dark hair and skin tone. He forced himself to look down into the engine bay as Charles reached in to take the air filter off.

“Dean, when is the last time you worked on one of these?”

“I’ve worked on a Ford with an in-line six but not a Chevy.”

“And did you notice Cy shifting from the column?”

“Yeah, an old three-on-the-tree. My uncle had a Ford with one.”

Filter and its housing set aside they looked at the exposed carburetor. Dean and Charles leaned in closer, listening to the way it drew in air.

“What do you think?” Charles asked as he stood up.

Still leaning over the engine bay, Dean turned to look up at Charles, and for a moment he caught Cy’s stare. He made no expression of acknowledgement but continued to turn till he was looking up at Charles. “I smell gas, so it is running too rich. Looking at it I’d say it is time to replace it. See how this is worn loose” Dean added as he worked the throttle, revving the engine.

“Cy, shut it off. You’re scheduled to work in the morning so can you get to this?” asked Charles now facing Dean.

Dean looked at Cy head toward the cab then to Charles. “I can run to the parts store and get a rebuilt carb and put it on this evening if that is okay with you. It won’t take long.”

“Up to you, but I’m heading out in a few. The wife has invited the Millers over and I better not be late tonight.”

The engine shuts down and Cy is soon standing by the fender. Charles turns to go to the office, “Dean will take care of you” he said as he walked away.

Dean stood up wiping his hands on a rag so greasy Cy wondered what good it could possibly do. “If you have the time I can fix it this evening. Won’t take long, but I need to hurry over to the parts store on Robertson Street for they are the only one in town that will have a rebuilt carb for this thing.”

“Okay…You…want me to come with you? I can pay for the carb so you don’t have to and…”

“Yeah, you can ride along, but you don’t have to worry about paying till I’m complete. We have a tab and get a discount you won’t get.  Wait for me out front while I make sure Sam can help close up while we are gone.”

Cy stood in front of the shop watching the afternoon traffic pass trying not to think about Dean as someone attractive, someone he considered sexually. He had to stop himself for he knew it’d make him tongue tied and act foolishly. He had to be cool about it, think of it as just two guys going to the parts store. What could be more normal?

He heard Dean before he saw him, the throaty exhaust of a rumbling V-8 coming around the building. He expected a sports car or maybe a truck modified with larger tires and lowered suspension but what he didn’t expect was what drove around the building. A CJ-7, jacked up, with only a top but no sides or doors. The exhaust curved out the side in front of the rear wheels. Dean eased around the building and up next to Cy, the CJ idling like a hot rod.

“Come on, hop in” Dean called out motioning toward the passenger side.

The CJ’s body had faded paint, some rust around the rear fender and once inside he saw some small holes in the footwell where rust had eaten through. The seats were worn, the vinyl faded from exposure and use. But the gauges were all new, and the shifter indicated a five-speed transmission which Cy was pretty sure didn’t come on CJ’s.

“Nice Jeep” Cy stated as he buckled himself into the seat.

“Thanks. I got the suspension and drivetrain all done and next is the body, which, as you can see, needs a bit of work” Dean replied pointing at the holes in the footwell.

“Sounds like a V-8” said Cy wanting to continue the conversation and not sure what else to talk about.

“Yeah, it’s a small block Chevy, the 350…” Dean replied as he continued to tell Cy how he got the motor out of a Camaro and rebuilt it himself. Cy listened, looking over at Dean letting his eyes roam over the man sitting next to him.

It was a short drive across town to the parts store and they were soon back at the shop. It was closed up, the ‘open’ sign turned off and Dean had to unlock the gate to pull around to the back of the building. Cy followed him through a man door into the dark interior. Dean disappeared off to the other side of the building where a few seconds later the fluorescent lights came on over the bay where his truck sat.

“Okay, lets get you all fixed up and back on the road” said Dean as he came back over, moving to the front of the truck.

Cy stood at the fender pretending to watch Dean work, but what he was really doing was watching Dean. The way his long slender fingers held the screwdrivers and wrenches, the movement of his hands, unhesitant, sure of every move, and how his long lean torso stretched over the radiator to reach the top of the engine. Cy looked along the arm and around the opening in where the sleeve should have been, catching glimpses of the dark hair within the armpit. Dean had a long neck with a prominent Adam’s apple that accentuated the line of his jaw. Eyes roaming along the torso stretched over the engine bay Cy came to Dean’s ass, jeans tight fitting showing the full curve of it. Dean’s shirt rode up as he reached further toward the rear of the engine and Cy saw smooth skin, the same tone as his arms.

Cy wanted to reach out and touch that exposed flesh, to feel its smoothness with his fingertips. No guy in high school or in town had ever captured his attention the way Dean was doing now. ‘How old was Dean? Mid-twenties if he had to guess, and it made him feel young again, too young, still a teenager, awkward and unsure of himself. Nineteen had seemed so much older before but now, looking at Dean, he felt it wasn’t old enough. He knew it wasn’t his age as much as it was his still being a virgin with no experience with another guy that made him feel naïve and insecure.

He hadn’t realized it, but Dean noticed the way he was looking at him, the stares that spoke of some longing. Dean recognized it, had seen it often back in Oklahoma City. And it was one particular farm boy from a cattle ranch that had been Dean’s undoing, one that caused him to pack up and head to the old South. The area his great-grandparents had been from before packing it up and moving to the Midwest. Dean concentrated on the task at hand as he wondered how to handle the current situation. Should he just finish up the repair and send Cy on his way, or should he pursue it, see where it leads, if for nothing else than to have a good time. He had not been with anyone since Ethan back in Oklahoma City, four months ago. Glancing over a Cy he realized this wasn’t to be just a fun fuck and move on. He recognized the longing, a desire for more. He knew Cy had to be lonely in that way only a gay boy in a small rural area can be. An isolation that someone who was lacking confidence, afraid of coming out for fear of people turning against him. So, they lived a loneliness their friends didn’t understand.

Dean wasn’t sure he could handle it, not anything serious. He still felt the hurt from Ethan’s rejection, one fueled by those fears of coming out that led Ethan to suddenly break all contact. One that led to Dean reading on social media about Ethan marrying his high school sweetheart in a simple church ceremony one Saturday afternoon. He had spent the first month traveling down, getting an apartment in town and searching for a job. He’d been lucky, Charles had one of his long-time mechanics retire and Dean had walked in on a particularly busy day, vehicles lined up at every garage door.  He loved working on engines, finding out why they were not running correctly, or not at all, then repairing them. He didn’t’ mind the grease and grime that never seemed to wash completely away, or the heat of working around engines, even on blistering summer days when the shop would be nearly as hot as out in the sun. He had good grades in school and his parents had hoped he would go to college, study to be an engineer or designer, but he went to a trade school where he furthered his knowledge on repairing engines allowing him to work with hands.

He knew most gay guys seemed to want the perfect guy, or, more often than not, the perfect fuck. He knew his profession was the kind of thing they looked down on. But those types didn’t do anything for him. It was the farm boys that attracted him, the guys who worked with their hands the same as he. And in Oklahoma City he thought he had found the one with Ethan. Tall, muscular, sun-bleached blonde hair and freckles across his cheeks that made him look like the All-American Farm Boy; like someone straight out of a magazine. But there were insecurities there that Ethan couldn’t overcome, and in the end Dean let himself get hurt, even though he knew after a few weeks what the situation was going to be.

So now here he was, leaning over the engine of an old Chevy truck, one older than either Cy or he, wondering if he was setting himself for the same situation he had fled.

“Are you…from around here? I’ve never seen you…” asked Cy.

Interrupting, Dean snapped out of his thoughts, turned to Cy, knowing it was a means of finding out about him, wondering if he was interested. “I’m from Oklahoma. Moved here four months ago and got lucky, found this job with Charles.”

“Charles…” Cy replied repeating the last thing Dean said, an old habit of his when he was trying to get his mind focused. “You like it here?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. Strange how it is not quite as hot but damn it feels hotter.”

“The humidity…”

“The humidity” Dean interrupts laughing. “Everyone talks about it but when you’re out back in the sun leaning over a running engine it becomes a very real thing” Dean added as he set the new carburetor over the engine and began to secure it in place.

Cy watched Dean put everything back in place, throttle cable, fuel line, the air filter assembly till everything was back as it was. “Keys still in it?” Dean asked as he stood up, wiping his hands as he surveyed his completed work.

“Yes.”

Dean moved to the driver’s side, climbed in, pumped the accelerator a couple of times and turned the key. The engine roared to life and quickly settled into a low idle. Dean pumped the accelerator revving the engine then he leaned out the open door listening to the sound it made as he pushed the accelerator down running the engine at a higher rpm.

Dean gave Cy a questioning look, climbed out easing down by the truck where he slid part way underneath. Cy watched him, the way he looked up and down the underside, making a serious face. Sliding out Dean looked at Cy as he sat up.

“Your exhaust system is shot. There are two places that are rusted through.”

“I know. I’ve been meaning to replace it but…money has been tight, and everything has been so crazy on the farm.”

Why he did it, Dean didn’t know. He knew better. It was setting himself up for a world of hurt but he did it anyway.

“I can help you get it changed out if you can pay for the parts.”

“I can pay to do it, things are better on the farm since we sold the wheat crop. I just haven’t stopped to do it.”

"I work this Saturday morning shift if that would be easier for you.”

Cy saw the opportunity, the ability to be around Dean and he tried not too but he smiled. “Okay. When should I bring it in?”

“What about around ten? I can get the exhaust system tomorrow and have it ready to install.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just come in at ten. That will give me time to do Mrs. Lowell’s old Buick and do a couple of oil changes set for that morning.”

“You close at noon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but we should be able to get it on and out the door by then.”

Dean opened the garage door and walked around the building to open the gate. Cy paid for the carburetor and installation and eased his truck around following Dean who walked in front of him to open the gate. He watched Dean, the way his ass moved in the tight jeans and how Dean moved his arms as he walked. It felt like a missed opportunity and if not for the fact he was to come back in two days he knew he would be feeling differently; like a missed opportunity had passed him by. But he was to come back, and in just two days.

Saturday arrived with clear skies and a bright hot sunlight moving over the landscape. Cy had climbed out of bed early, prepared a couple of eggs and toast, gone out to feed the chickens and check on the few heads of cattle his father still insisted on having. By eight thirty he was back in the house taking a shower.

He stood in the shower, cock half hard, tempted to take it in hand, as he considered the possibilities his fantasies had created since Wednesday evening. For three nights he lay awake far too long thinking of Dean, imagining him in various situations. Each one ending with Dean taking off his clothes and moving over him. At the dinner table the night before his mother had asked him if he was alright; even she could sense something was different.

At ten after nine he was sitting in his truck, fingers on the key ready to start the engine. He was hesitating for he knew he would be early if he left now. He tried to think of some way to kill time, but his eagerness to get to the shop overrode all the options he considered. So, he turned the key knowing he’d tell Dean he arrived early just in case he could start early.

The truck ran smoothly at idle, but out on the road he noticed it did run a bit roughly, and there was a small vibration. He knew it was the exhaust system causing it and after today the truck should run fine. He drove into town and into the parking lot of the shop where other vehicles filled most of the area in front. The two garage doors on the front were up and inside were a sports car with the hood up and a truck on a hoist with the rear wheels removed.

Cy went into the office and once again found it empty. He moved through and into the shop where the noise of an air wrench, fans on the floor, a motor running on the far side and a radio blaring rock music filled the space.  He moved through the room cutting around one vehicle after the next. He came to a Chrysler, a huge four door sedan from the early seventies that was jacked up at the front. As he approached Sam came rolling out from underneath.

“You looking for Dean?” Sam asked as he reached over for a different wrench.

“Yeah, he’s going to install…”

“He’s back there; the black Buick” Sam interrupted then lay flat and rolled back underneath the Chrysler.

Cy made his way toward the black Buick with the front doors open, hood up and Dean leaning over a protected fender. The radio that was blaring some early seventies rock sat on the work bench nearby. He worked his way to the front of the car and saw Dean tightening the belt to a new alternator.

“You about got it?” Cy asked as he moved up close into Dean’s peripheral vision.

Glancing over Dean nodded, “Yeah, just finishing up, but I’ve got two oil changes to do and that green truck hoisted up needs to have the tires rotated, then I’ll be able to start on your exhaust.”

“That’s okay; I’m early anyway.”

“Why don’t you wait in the office where there’s air conditioning and I’ll come get you when I’m done?”

“Alright” answered Cy, although he would rather stay and watch Dean work.

In the office he bought a soda from the vending machine in the corner and took one of the two guest chairs that sat next to the door. There were magazines in a plastic bin sitting between them which Cy flipped through several. They were old car magazines, some over a year old and nothing to distract him enough to not think of Dean who was close by, just through the door and over in the corner of the shop. He imagined those long arms reaching up to an oil pan, working the plug loose then black oil pouring out, cascading down his arms, and down his chest.

Startled by the door opening Cy jumped then looked up to see Sam coming in.

“I catch ya thinking nasty thoughts” Sam joked as he came in and set receipts for parts in a plastic tray on Charlie’s desk.

“I was…just wondering how much longer Dean was going to be.”

“Right” Sam replied drawing out the word letting Cy know he didn’t believe him. Turning, Sam went back through the door into the shop leaving Cy once again alone with his thoughts.

It was forty-five minutes before Dean came to get him, wiping his hands on what appeared to be the same greasy rag from last Wednesday.

“Sorry but it took longer than I anticipated, but if you’re good with it, I can work late to get the exhaust system installed.”

“Yeah; whatever works best for you.”

A few minutes later Cy’s truck was hoisted up and Dean was moving along its length looking at each section of the exhaust. He whistled once, and Cy looked away not wanting to know what caused the reaction, for it wasn’t good.  By noon the old exhaust was removed and the new one laid out along the floor. Cy noticed it looked different than the original, the muffler not the same.

“What kind of muffler is that?”

“A performance model; a bit more free flowing, but not as loud as the ones guys use on their hot rods.”

“How much is it?” Cy asked suddenly worried the cost was more than anticipated.

“Relax, it was the same as the regular replacement part” Dean replied then turning, muttering where Cy couldn’t hear him, “with the shop’s discount.”

Sam came over wiping his hands and arms dry after cleaning up.

“Dean, the front is locked and once I get the doors down here in the shop we’ll be closed up.”

“Okay; thanks Sam.”

Sam nodded his head and went to the front and lowered the two garage bay doors. Then he killed the lights in the shop except for the ones over the bay Dean and Cy were in. He reappeared, cutting across the shop where he disappeared out the man door.

It was after one o’clock before Dean had the exhaust system installed and Cy’s truck back on the floor.  Motioning for Cy to get in and start it up, he pulled over a creeper, laid on his back ready to scoot underneath. Cy walked around his prone body and climbed into the cab. The truck started immediately and fell into a smooth idle as Dean rolled up to the truck. He lay at the edge of the underside looking at the exhaust pipe searching for loose sections or a joint not properly sealed.

“Hit the gas a few times” Dean called out and studied the exhaust pipe as the truck rocked with its revving engine.

Cy sat in the driver’s seat looking down at Dean. The sleeveless shirt Dean had on rode up revealing a narrow band of skin right above the low riding jeans. Cy wanted to climb down and run his fingers along that exposed skin. He wanted to feel its smooth surface, the heat of it against his fingertips. He stared at Dean’s crotch swearing he could make it out lying to the left side. Dean’s body moved, and Cy let his eyes follow it, watching the way it shifted within the tight jeans and shirt. He wondered what Dean looked like naked.

“Cy…Cy…CY!” Dean called out and Cy realized he had been calling his name a few times already. He turned red, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but Dean just sat up looking up at him.

“You can kill the motor; everything looks good.”

The motor ticked as Cy sat looking at Dean, then looking away, as Dean stared back, wiping his hands.

“I’m going to wash up then head to the office to write everything up. Why don’t you pull your truck out then meet me in the office?”

“Okay” Cy replied as he straightened up on the bench seat and watched Dean walk across the shop disappearing into the toilet. He started the motor once again, pulled it into reverse and eased off the clutch. The truck idled with enough torque he didn’t need to press the accelerator, instead let the truck ease back and out of the shop. He pulled over to the entry to the office and went inside to wait for Dean. He felt like another opportunity was slipping him by, another lost moment, something important. He paced back and forth in the small office. It made him feel ridiculous the number of times he crossed the small space and he moved to the chair by the door. His foot bounced up and down as he bit at the fingernail of his index finger, then middle finger. Turning in the chair he sat sideways and watched the midday Saturday afternoon traffic. It was more trucks than usual, some as old as his, some older and he began to count the Chevys.

The door squeaked open and Dean came in wiping his hands on a paper towel, shirt unbuttoned all the way revealing his chest and stomach. Cy swallowed hard and sat up watching Dean cross the room and stand right in front of him. Tossing the paper towel in the trash as he looked down at Cy.

Staring back, he wondered what Dean was thinking. Dean looked serious, as if he needed or wanted to say something important. Dean sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Cy watched his shirt spread open as he did revealing more of his torso, the dime size nipples and a small tattoo of a crow over the left one. When Dean looked down at Cy he seemed to lean closer.

“I saw you looking at me” Dean stated in a low voice.

“What?! No…I mean…I…”

“I liked it.”

Cy froze as he stared up at Dean not sure he heard correctly.  “What?” he asked, the word floating out on an exhale.

“I am wrong?”

Dean’s question hung between them and Cy knew if he was going to have a chance with Dean he had to meet him half way. And that involved admitting to what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, he resolved himself to the situation, this need to speak of his desire.

“No, you’re not wrong. It’s just I have never…” Cy replied letting his words trail off into silence unsure how to admit to being inexperienced. To being nineteen and never having been with a guy.  He looked down and tried to breathe normally. He clutched the edge of the chair and tried to work out how to say what he needed to say.

A hand came to the side of his face, softly brushing his cheek. “It’s okay” Dean whispered as he eased down on his knees in front of him, shifted up close, using the side of an index finger to lift his face by the chin. “I know what it can be like in a rural place like this. The isolation, the loneliness.”

Cy watched Dean’s face, lips moving with the sound of his voice, low, barely audible then Dean moved toward him till lips touched his own, gently at first, then more urgently. He pushed back, opened his mouth to him as he brought one hand up and raked it over the smooth firm skin of Dean’s chest.

Dean pulled back, stood up, reaching down to help Cy stand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“In back.”

Cy let Dean lead him through the door and into the shop moving through the space till they came to an old Dodge truck, the white paint faded and chalky. Dean lowered the tailgate then turned back to him smiling mischievously. He stood frozen in place unsure what to do and he watched as Dean reached out and tugged his t-shirt over his head then unfastened his jeans. Dean stripped him, tugging down boxers and jeans together where he lifted one then the other foot letting Dean take off his shoes then slip the everything off.

Naked, cock half hard, Cy wondered how he looked to Dean. Did he look like some kid, still in his teens, his body looking skinny instead of lean?  Dean reached out and touched his chest, rubbed the skin softly with circular motions. As the hand moved down Dean leaned closer. He closed his eyes, all his awareness focused on the touch, the press of lips against his own, the hand moving over his stomach down to his cock taking him in hand.

Cy pressed his nakedness against Dean. He felt the shirt and exposed skin of Dean’s chest and the worn soft denim against his hips and legs and cock. Hands held his ass pulling them tight together and he felt his cock flex with his arousal. Dean’s tongue probed his mouth and fingers probed his opening, rubbing over its tightness then pushing against it. He began to breathe harder, almost gasping for each breath and he leaned his head back as Dean kissed his neck then ear, tonguing its curvature then tugging on the lobe.

He pushed against Dean’s crotch harder.

Dean turned him and eased him back on the bed of the truck. He leaned back on his elbows watching Dean kiss and tongue his skin moving over his chest. At his right nipple Dean tongued it into hardness then bit down on it lightly. Pain mixed with an unknown pleasure coursed through him.

Moving further down, Dean’s kisses were ticklish on his stomach making him breathe harder. Then Dean moved down further, kissed the head of his cock and tongued the shaft. He gasped for breath at the touch. Closing his eyes, he lay back once again focusing only on touch, the feel of Dean’s manipulation.  He felt hot breath on his cock then fingers holding it up as it was enveloped in the slick heat of Dean’s mouth.

Hands held his hips down as his cock was manipulated, tongue swirling over the head and lips moving along the slick shaft. An up and down movement by Dean that brought Cy to a state of arousal he’d never felt before. It seemed to last a long time, this manipulation, but Cy knew it was only a few minutes then Dean pulled up.

Looking up Cy saw Dean standing between his legs slipping the shirt from his shoulders then undoing his jeans. Cy watched him remove his clothes till he stood naked before him. Skin naturally darker in tone and smooth, clear, the only mark the crow tattoo and symbol on the bicep. Looking down the torso Cy saw Dean’s cock, curved upward, hard, the head flared wide and wet. Dean stroked it a couple of times, slowly, slicking the shaft with his own lube.

“Can I fuck you?” asked Dean and Cy nodded his head and lay back in the truck bed.

Dean took each leg and lifted them to his shoulders as he moved forward. Cy’s legs pressed against his chest as he moved up closer till he was touching Cy’s opening. He rubbed his leaking cock over the tightness then pressed against it till he felt the legs quiver against his chest and Cy moaned then gasped for breath. Easing forward he breached Cy’s tightness, stretched him open as he eased in, slowly sinking inward.

Sunk half way inside Cy, Dean held still letting him get use to the penetration. He stared down at the prone body, the fair smooth skin, stark white torso with arms and neck toned darker, red from their exposure to the sun, the source of the term ‘red neck’. Rubbing one hand over Cy’s chest he raked it over one then the other nipple feeling the hard nub. He pinched the left one watching Cy arch his back and moan. He pushed inward another inch then pulled back as Cy undulated below him, pushing down on his cock.

Cy felt the pain recede and another sensation take its place. The fullness of Dean’s penetration, the way he could feel the stretch of his opening. He wanted this penetration. He wanted to feel Dean fuck him. He moved his hips, flexed his back and pushed down on the thick shaft. It moved in him and he knew Dean was pushing further into his hole. Stretching arms out over his head and letting his legs fall further apart till they were down at Dean’s side he urged him onward. Dean pushed in slowly, too slowly, and he put his hands on each of Dean’s thighs and urged him on.

“Fuck me…please…fuck me” Cy begged as he worked his body beneath Dean.

Dean pushed in all the way and held tight against his ass. He felt fullness in his body, this sense of completeness with another. Dean’s arms slipped under his knees and folded him over while moving over him. Then he felt it, the smooth slow rhythm of Dean’s fuck. The pull outward then the push back in. Dean moved steadily increasing his pace and Cy felt the way cock thrust through his opening and piston in his hole. His own cock rocked on his abdomen leaving a slick trail over his skin.

“Harder…fuck me harder” Cy cried out and Dean hammered his hole, hips smacking his ass till the truck rocked with the rhythm of their fuck. Dean kissed his neck then nipped the skin of his shoulder. He felt the hot breath that caressed his neck and the slickness of his torso pinned down beneath Dean’s.

Dean sat up, pinned his legs down either side of his chest and drove into his hole harder.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck…” Dean mumbled, his voice going lower with each thrust inward.

Cy opened his eyes and watched the movement of Dean’s body, the way it undulated with their fuck and its tightening of muscle across the stomach.

“Jesus” Dean cried out as he shoved inward all the way. Cy felt his body shudder with release then Dean working his hips, pushing inward a few times with his final ejaculations.

Dean fell on top of him, breathing hard. He felt Dean’s cock slip free and suddenly he felt empty, some how this special connection through sex broken. Dean didn’t lay still long, sitting up then moving over him.

“Your turn” Dean stated as he hovered over Cy’s waist, took his cock and held it up as he moved down to it. All too soon Cy saw his cock disappear inside of Dean, felt the tightness of the opening milk his shaft as it moved downward.

Dean didn’t take his time, not this time. He took Cy’s cock quickly, let his body ease down till he had all of it. Cy rested his hands on each thigh, feeling Dean’s exertion with the movement down then upward, working Cy’s cock into his hole.

Soon the truck rocked, and Cy’s moans and cries echoed in the shop as Dean moved up and down on his cock. It didn’t take long, not with all the stimulation, and Cy was shoving upward, trying to get even deeper in Dean’s body as he filled his hole.

Dean washed the grease and grim from his hands and arms as Sam closed the garage doors. Charlie was in the office with the day’s last customer. It was another week in the shop coming to an end. Sam was working the Saturday shift, so Dean had a full weekend ahead of him. He stuck his head through the office door telling Charlies he was heading out. As he moved through the shop he passed Sam who gave him a knowing smile as he just shook his head.

It was odd the way Sam and Charlie accepted his sexuality. A nod of the head, shrug of the shoulders and some comment about ‘to each his own’. And that was it.

He went out to the front of the shop out into the cooling day, the sun low in the western sky. He ambled across the dirt parking lot heading toward the old Chevy truck waiting for him. It started up as he approached, and he saw the familiar arm resting on the window sill. Climbing in he leaned across the cab and gave Cy a kiss; just a quick peck.

“How was your day?” Cy asked as he put the truck into first gear and eased across the parking lot heading to the road.

“Good. No surprises that killed my schedule.  And you? Did your dad and you get those soybeans cut?”

“Yep, so next week we start tilling the fields. He wants to put in a cover crop for the winter.”

“What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Let’s go clean up then go to Greenville for a steak.”

“Okay” Dean replied then looking over he asked the question he wanted to ask from the moment he climbed into the cab. It had been tough on Cy’s parents, the coming out, then right after the fact he was in a relationship, but over the last few weeks he could see things were getting better. “Are you going to stay tonight?”

Cy smiled without taking his eyes off the road. “Yep.”