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The bump had appeared out of nowhere, derailing him onto the wrong fucking track. What a giant waste, not paying attention like that…
It’s a pissed off Greaseball limping back to his shed, supported on both sides by Tank and Gear, Lube following close behind. Humiliating, is what it is. Whole knee dislocated, the yard’s local repair truck Jack had told him in her usual no-nonsense way. Rest, a giant brace around his whole leg, and no moving was the medicine she’d given. Damn if it doesn’t hurt like a son of a bitch though. Greaseball grunts in annoyance as they near his quarters, Lube rolling ahead to wait by the door.
The trucks had been fine, thank the Starlight, but Pearl had raced off to get Rusty of all the fuckin-
The little steamer, together with the marshals had dragged him back to Apollo Victoria, him cussing them out the whole way. In embarrassment, yeah, but also….fuck, mostly in pain. Dinah had met them back at the yard and accompanied him to the repair shop. Luckily nothing would have to be replaced, but apart from the dislocation, his whole leg is severely bruised and hurts just by moving it a little.
Fuck.
He sighs as they near his frontdoor, pride hurt at such an amateur's mistake, and bummed out at being out of commission for who knows how long.
“Uh, boss.” Lube pipes in, and he gives him an annoyed glare. “There’s a note on your door.”
“Wha?” He frowns as they end up by his shed, and just as he said, a small note is plastered to the door. He reaches out to take it, squinting at the small text. “Surprise.” He reads, frowning even more. “Surprise?”
Then realisation hits. Could it be? He straightens where he stands, letting out a grunt when a cold stab of pain rushes through his thigh.
“What surprise?” Gear asks.
“Nothin’, ehr-” Greaseball takes a hold of the doorframe to support himself. “I can get in by myself, you can leave.”
“But-”
“Leave.” Greaseball bites out, but relaxes immediately after, hearing his harsh tone and sighs. “Please.”
The diesels all look at each other but gives him a careful nod after a minute or so, and soon enough they’ve rolled away. Greaseball clears his throat, resting his leg on his stoop as he begins to open the door, which...is already unlocked. Of course. The door creaks a little as he pushes it open, and the lights are already on inside. The first thing he sees is the disregarded gear on the floor, bright red and eyecatching, leading all the way to-
He turns to the cot and pauses, throat dry and engine roaring.
Electra is resting on the mattress, frame relaxed and completely bared but for the codpiece still in place – and here Greaseball thrums long and hard – wrapped from head to wheel in red lace, like a gift ready to be opened and enjoyed. The Racer gives him a long sultry look, batting his lashes before his eyes travel down his frame to see the legbrace and the spell is abruptly broken.
“Starlight, what happened to you?” He sits up straighter, movement all the more awkward by the fact that his hands are tied as well. Greaseball groans and curses the universe and everything in it. Why today? Why now?
“Accident.” He grits out as he limps inside and closes the door behind him.
“Accident?” The Racer repeats, incredulous. “What happened?”
Greaseball just grunts again, leaning against the wall.
“Nothin’, stupid mistake is all.” He grumbles, giving the electric a long look, taking him in. He looks...mouthwatering, the lace hugging his frame in all the right places, his already wasp-like waist highlighted by the roping around it. It looks like ordinary giftwrapping, easy to break if wanted, tied gently in a bow by his neck. So beautiful. Waiting here just for him, to be enjoyed and played with. On a day where the doc has strictly forbidden him from any sort of physical activity. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Electra pouts a little, bright eyes wide and disappointed.
“I take it...sex is out of the question?” He asks, readjusting a little awkwardly on the cot.
Greaseball groans again.
“Yeah.” Damn it. He looks down at the floor, angry at himself for not paying attention on the tracks, and angry at the fact that Electra will probably go back to his team if there’s nothing for him to do here.
The Racer just nods slowly, shifting on the spot. “Could you...untie me, then?” He clears his throat. “Please. This is- ehm, getting very awkward.”
Engine drums in discomfort, and Greaseball carefully makes his way to the cot, groaning as he sits down and readjusts his leg.
“You gonna leave if I do?” He asks quietly, still looking at the floor.
He hears a scoff.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” His cheeks flush up and he stutters, “I mean, you can stay if you wanna, ehr-” He rubs his necks, damn. “You came all this way after all, just don’t know what we’d do instead.”
He looks at Electra then and something unreadable travels across the Racer’s face, and he blinks a few times, his lashes sparking in the lamplight as he does.
“We’ll figure something out.” Electra says after a minute or so. “Now untie me, thank you.”
Engine revving up again, Greaseball just nods and leans forward to pull at the bow. It’s an intricate tying, going all around his body and arms, legs tied together like the tail of a fish. He thrums deeply.
“You sat here waitin’ for me?” He asks as he slowly works the roping loose. “How’d you manage this?”
Electra tilts his head a little, looking at something on the wall.
“Volta helped me. She’s very talented.”
Greaseball grunts.
“We passed through an hour or so ago.” Electra continues. “Thought it’d be fun to surprise you, see that dumb look on your face.”
The diesel snorts then and gives him a look, hands pausing by his waist.
“Easy now, Lexi.” He rumbles. “If you ain’t nice, I might just leave you like this.”
The Racer whirrs, cheeks heating up even if he scowls at him.
“A gift just for me.” Greaseball chuckles and leans in to kiss his ear. “Mighty thoughtful of you, darlin’.”
Electra whirrs again, softer this time as he shivers at the kiss. Greaseball hums and continues with the untying then, now and again leaning in to kiss his cheeks, his ears, his shoulders. He can feel his engine under the skin as he kisses the collarbones, drumming away, Electra’s breathing growing quicker and quicker. Damn it, this is the entirely wrong route to go, his own engine and core revving up the more he mouths at the Racer’s enticing frame. Painkillers have slowly started to fade as well, the aching throb of his entire leg slowly but surely starting up again.
“You had to arrive today.” He grumbles, turning the Racer around to untie his arms. “Killin’ me with this.”
Electra chuckles, preening at the effect he clearly knows he’s having on him. The minute his arms are free he turns back to face him and cups his jaw.
“Well, good to know you’d appreciate it.” He purrs, stroking his cheek. “I’ll remember it for another time.” And then he leans in to kiss him, pouty mouth soft and warm. Greaseball groans into it, cupping the Racer’s jaw as they mutually deepen the kiss. Maybe the timing wasn’t that horrible. He’d much rather spend an evening with a busted knee together with Electra than spend it alone, after all.
The Racer hums into him and pulls back a little to peck at his jaw and neck before retreating completely. Greaseball thrums in displeasure before he sees that Electra’s merely started to untie his legs as well. As soon as he’s fully loose, he dives back for the diesel, kiss deep and charged as he pulls him back with him towards the mattress. Greaseball’s whole frame thrums in excitement until he readjusts and leans on his hip, the bad one, and his entire leg screams out in protest.
“Son of a bitch.” He growls out, Electra freezing underneath him before realisation sets in and he helps him lie down on his good side. Greaseball groans into his elbow, irritation and anger brimming on the surface. Electra sits close by his side, but says nothing. Fuck, he must think this is awkward beyond belief. It’s embarrassing, laying here with a person he competed with no more than a few months ago, whole leg busted up and barely being able to move, because of a dumb mistake a fucking toddler could have made. Damn it. Maybe he should just…ask him to leave. Maybe having the Racer seeing him like this, like a damn invalid, is a huge mistake.
Then he feels Electra’s long fingers through his hair, movement a little unsure at first, but then stroking gently. He groans again, but turns to eye him. The Racer has that same look as before, the one he can’t figure out for the life of him, and he thrums when he moves to stroke his cheek.
“Should I get Wrench?” Electra asks, having moved to casually hug his knees, tilting his head as he gives him a worried look now. It’s strange to see him worried.
Greaseball shakes his head, wincing a little as he turns to face him.
“Nah, nah. I’ve seen the doc.” He mumbles. “Just gotta rest, take some meds and oil up the knee.” He sighs. “For a while. I dunno how long.”
The electric only nods. They stay like that for a while, Greaseball relaxing all the more by Electra’s soft petting, until he straightens up and clears his throat.
“Undress.” He says matter of factly and Greaseball sputters as the Racer gets up from the cot.
“I ain’t sleeping with you, Lexi.” He grumbles, every word in that sentence a knife to his frame. Because damn does he want to. Electra merely rolls his eyes.
“Undress.” He repeats, giving him a look. “So I can help with the leg.”
Ah. The diesel grumbles in embarrassment.
“I can do it myself.” He grunts after a while, to which the electric only rolls his eyes again and folds his arms. Cocking his hip, he raises a brow.
“So you’re telling me-” He begins, leaning down to really look at him. “-that you don’t want your beautiful-” He straightens again and gives him a smirk. “,-half naked lover to give you a massage?”
Oh, damn. Greaseball’s throat suddenly grows dry, engine revving.
“That what you’re telling me?” He finishes, confident expression on his stupid, perfect face.
“Nah, nah, I-” He stammers, and Electra practically preens with smugness. “Brat.” He grumbles then and starts to unzip the leather. Electra crawls back on the cot to help him sit up and remove the lower half, even giving him a few warm pecks when he swears out in pain as they remove the brace and remaining gear on his leg.
“Poor baby.” The Racer tuts and strokes his cheek, smirking at Greaseball’s scowl.
“I ain’t a kid.” He grumbles in annoyance, but gives in to another kiss. And another, and another. Mmmm.
He lies back on his elbows and Electra follows, digging out the diesel’s meds from one of the compartments in his gear. He grabs the oil while they’re at it and carefully readjusts to position Greaseball’s leg across his lap.
“Must have been a nasty fall.” The Racer remarks as he observes the bruised and dented limb, the usual chromatic pigment dull and sporadic in it’s colour. Greaseball grumbles a little and swallows the painkillers, shame once again creeping into his head. Stupid.
“It’s nothin’.” He mutters, but clearly sees Electra rolling his eyes again.
“Whatever you say.” He snorts and squirts some oil on his leg, giving him a smirk. “Ready to get greased up, Greaseball?”
“Very funny.”
Electra just laughs, the sound different than usual, maybe a bit more genuine. A pretty laugh. Greaseball observes as the Racer gets to work, gently but surely kneading the muscles, being extra careful around the knee. He winces now and again, but damn if it doesn’t make him melt into the cot, Electra’s lean and soft hands making his engine almost ache.
“You’re really good at this.” He mumbles, face heating up when the Racer gives him a knowing look.
“Wrench massages me all the time.” Electra shrugs. “I’ve picked some of it up.”
“Huh.”
He continues to watch Electra work, unsure what more to say. It hits him that most of their conversations have either been taunts, flirting or – he reddens a bit – things said while buried so deep within the Racer that he’s almost forgotten his own name. Things that absolutely should not leave this shed under any circumstance.
But here? Now, like this? Do they talk about the weather? How their day went? He frowns. Electra obviously knows about his day, and he’s not particularly keen to discuss it further. Fucking embarrassing is what it is.
Then the Racer hits a specifically sore muscle and smooths it out, making Greaseball groan out in relief, his face reddening even more when Electra looks at him in triumph.
“You’ve never been massaged before, have you?” He asks, reaching down to idly play with one of his wheels. The diesel just grunts again, shrugging.
“Not really, no.”
“And you’ve never given one either?”
Greaseball raises an eyebrow.
“Nah, why would I?” He asks, to which Electra only covers his mouth in mock horror.
“Poor Dinah.” The Racer gasps, and starts to laugh when Greaseball scowls at him. “Whatever did she see in you?”
The diesel only grumbles as he continues to throw him a sharp look.
“Should’a left you tied up.” He grunts. “Maybe covered your mouth too.”
Electra just smirks, but the azure shade of his throat and chest grows a little darker, long lashes batting at him.
“Promises, promises.” He purrs, and damn if that sultry voice doesn’t go straight from his engine to his core, cock giving off a throb or two despite the drowsiness of the meds. Patience. He’s not very good at being patient though, damn it. Electra gives his leg a final stroke then, the oil making his skin prickle in an odd sensation of both cold and hot. It actually helps a little with distracting him, especially when the Racer gently moves and readjusts to lie beside him, resting his head atop Greaseball’s chest. He runs his hand through the Racer’s crest, watching it bend under his palm and then spring right back up the second the weight’s gone. The fringe is softer, as is the hair at his neck, and Greaseball spends extra time there to twirl the cherry locks around his fingers. Electra whirrs softly and closes his eyes, the long lashes tickling his chest. So pretty. The prettiest thing he’s ever seen, enticingly giftwrapped just for him. All for nothing, because he was dumb and absent-minded.
He watches Electra, that same sort of lump forming in his throat as the first time they slept together. It feels like he’s choking on something, but he doesn’t know what. Can’t place the emotion. Fuck, he just feels overwhelmed, like he’s about to burst.
Taking a firmer hold of Electra’s hair, he brings the Racer up to kiss him, the surprised but pleasant whirr stirring his own deep thrumming. He could just ignore Jack’s advice, or at least bend the rules a little. Thanks to the meds and the oil, the pain is just a minor throbbing right now, what harm could some lighthanded release do? Moving on to mouth at Electra’s slender neck, he pictures the electric between his legs, his soft lips around his cock, those pretty blue eyes looking up at him, lashes fluttering. He bet he’d look breathtaking like that, taking him in. Would he be able to? Starlight. He groans against the Racer’s shoulder at the mental image he’s painted, engine revving up and core tugging against the codpiece. Electra gives off a throaty gasp now and again as he pecks at him, lips and tongue tasting his electrifying skin. Moving up to run his fingers through his hair, the Racer turns to kiss his mouth, giving his lower lip a light bite.
“You wanna play, G?” He whispers, puffy lips begging for more attention. “Thought you said you couldn’t.”
Greaseball thrums as the Racer gives him another kiss, smirking against him.
“Lots of ways to play, baby.” He rumbles, thumb moving to press against Electra’s lips. “Really wanna see what this pretty mouth of yours can do, for one.”
Electra laughs, batting his lashes.
“Thought you said you wanted to cover it up.” He gives him a teasing pout, and damn that mouth.
“I can change my mind, can’t I?” Greaseball thrums. “Fillin’ it up sounds a lot more fun.” He tries again to press his thumb against his lips, and when Electra smiles and opens up, his engine almost bursts. Starlight.
The Racer gives the digit a few sucks, eyes never leaving Greaseball’s, and damn if that doesn’t make his cock awaken immediately.
“So pretty like that, Lexi.” He rumbles, and Electra leaves his thumb to give him an amused look.
“Are you going to say I’d look even prettier on your cock?” He asks, smirking when Greaseball starts to sputter.
“I wasn’t gonna!” He protests, cheeks red. Maybe he was thinking that. “I’m givin’ you a compliment, don’t be a brat.”
Electra rolls his eyes, but continues to smile at him.
“Try something I haven’t heard before then.” He purrs, but starts to slink down his frame to carefully settle between his legs, careful to avoid the injured one when he spreads his thighs.
He hasn’t heard before? That makes the diesel pause a little. Does Electra actually want to hear something new or is he playing? Fuck, he can’t tell.
“That’s impossible.” He utters, to which the Racer raises a brow.
“Why?” He asks, slowly unbuttoning the belt and codpiece. He looks at him with something like anticipation on his face. Greaseball grunts.
“You’ve heard all of them already.” And here Electra blinks a few times, then he lowers his eyes and- is that a tiny smile he spots?
“That’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.” He says, removing the codpiece. “But thank you.”
Greaseball wasn’t really aiming for cheese, and he grumbles a little, cheeks red.
“No problem.”
Electra laughs then, taking a careful hold of his cock, only semi-hard so far. Stupid meds.
“I think that warrants a reward.” The Racer purrs and gives the shaft a firm stroke. “Let’s wake up our little friend here.”
“Little friend?” Greaseball grunts, frowning at him, but then Electra bends down and immediately goes for the head and fucking- oh, damn.
If he wasn’t fully hard before, that quickly changes as Electra practically forces it up, fluid rushing to his member like his life depended on it. The Racer’s mouth is warm around him, and when he feels his tongue against the glans he swears the room starts swaying around them. The real thing is even better than the image he conjured up earlier, and fully hard now, he watches the Racer’s lips stretch around the girth, tiny whirrs and moans making his engine go all wild. Then he takes all of him whole and he could just about die.
“Oh my S-.” He gasps, falling back on the mattress as he stares up at the ceiling, pleasure running through him like wildfire. “Lexi.” He reaches instinctually for the Racer’s hair, grabbing a handful at his neck as he truly begins to suck him off, whirring and crooning as he does. So good, fuck.
He ruts against him carefully, the meds stopping the pain from being unbearable, and when Electra expertly starts to meet him halfway, he quickly starts to succumb.
“Don’t care if you’ve heard it before.” He grunts then, enough focus left to lift his head and look down at him. “You do look prettier there.”
That makes the Racer chuckle, and damn if those vibrations doesn’t make it all the harder not to climax right there and then. Electra pulls back, trails of saliva between his lips and Greaseball’s cock making him all dizzy just looking at him. Starlight. The Racer wets his lips and bats his lashes, making it all the worse. Or better. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore.
“The prettiest in the world.” Greaseball mumbles, and Electra preens then, giving the shaft a rewarding stroke.
“You getting close, you big dork?” He asks, and oh damn, his voice is a bit hoarser than before. Greaseball swallows, his throat suddenly a lot dryer.
“Very.”
Electra smirks.
“Good.” He strokes him again. “My jaw’s getting tired.” Pouting then, he gives him a teasing look. “Big guy.”
Damn, he knows Electra’s playing with him but oh if that doesn’t get his engine revving. He thrums deeply and tugs at the Racer’s hair playfully.
“You better get back there and finish the job then, darlin’.” He rumbles and thrusts into his hand. “Palm’s good but we don’t want that pretty face all covered up with me now, do we?”
The minute he says it out loud and the image jumps into his mind though, he realises that it would actually...not be so bad at all to see that. That perky mouth and pretty face, messy and wet. Fuck. He looks at Electra and the Racer stares back, neck and chest turning a little darker.
“You sure about that, G?” He asks, voice tinny as he smirks. “You don’t wanna mess me up?”
Yes! He does!
He just stares back, cheeks all hot, and when Electra bends down to kiss his head he groans out.
“I could ask you back.” He grits out when the Racer starts to play with the glans, tip of his tongue warm and prodding, the bastard.
“If I wanna mess you up?” Electra laughs. “I’ve sat on your face, honey. I’ve already done it.”
Funny.
“Brat.” He rumbles and pulls at his hair before pushing him down on his shaft again, the Racer whirring out in surprise. He throws him a sharp look. “Sorry.” Greaseball says a little sheepishly, patting his hair more gently. Electra huffs a little but soon pays him back by working his tongue so expertly around him he swears he’s gonna cry. Stroking his shaft, he mouths at the head, all teasing and warm, like he’s urging his cock to just do it already. Greaseball groans as he moves against his lips, muscles jumping as the Racer’s tongue sends a jolt or two straight through him.
He’s never been with anyone quite like Lex – and it’s not just the obvious differences – nah, it’s his whole….aura. And his attitude and brattiness even in bed. Even when he gets him trembling beneath him like any other girl he’s fucked, he’s still so fucking cocky about it. The whole thing is...charged, almost. Filthy, in the best of ways.
He strokes the Racer’s hair, engine revving faster as he looks at him. Electra eyes are closed, those blue lips urging him closer and closer. His lover, like Lexi himself had called him before. His lover.
Electra opens his eyes then and smiles against the head. Did he say it out loud?
“C’mon, G.” He whispers, giving him one last stroke. “Mess me up.”
Breathtaking.
He sits up as he climaxes, grip on Electra’s hair hard as he cums on the Racer’s tongue, his lips, his jaw. Electra closes his eyes and hums, closing his mouth around the head to swallow the last of it. Starlight in fucking heaven, he’s perfect. Greaseball groans as he rides out the wave, the elation filling his whole system all but drowning out the remaining pain in his leg. Lexi, Lexi.
Once he’s back on earth and opens his eyes again, he’s met by the sight of Electra giving his cock that one last suck before pulling back, his seed trailing down his face and lips. Then he looks up to meet his gaze, those big blue eyes piercing a huge fucking hole in his chest. Filthy, in the best of ways, indeed. That image is going to live in his brain forever.
Sitting up, Electra gives him his usual tiny smirk, and Greaseball groans again and reaches out to touch his lips, wet and glistening. He really wanna kiss him, but isn’t that keen to taste himself on the Racer’s tongue, so he settles with touching him, stroking his cheek and jaw, cleaning him the best he can. It’s still pretty obvious though. He can’t help but swell with a strange sort of cockyness when he thinks about it, the feeling and sight of...marking him, almost. He immediately feels bad just thinking it. Damn it, he hates feeling possessive, swore he’d lay that shit down after Dinah. Electra ain’t his, he’s not anyone’s...but oh if he doesn’t get the urge to just hold him tight and never share him with anyone ever again. Electra whirrs, smiling in amusement at his petting. Maybe he’ll kiss him anyway...it’s worth it.
Before he can do it though, there’s a knock on the door. Of all the fucking-
“If that’s Krupp-” He grumbles, voice annoyed, but Electra just chuckles.
“No, he’s back with the rest.” He shakes his head.
Another knock, louder this time.
“Boss?” Lube calls from outside, knocking again. “You busy?”
Oh, for fucks sake, he told them to go away. What do they want now? Sitting up straighter, he begins to brace himself to get off the cot and give the diesel a piece of his mind when Electra sighs in annoyance and stands up.
“Rude.” He mutters, and before Greaseball can stop him he’s rolled over to the door and opened it. In nothing but that skimpy little codpiece, and – oh, fuck, shit – face still wet with his cum.
“Yes, we’re busy!” Electra hisses to the shocked Lube, eyes wide, and then he freezes. Beside Lube is Dinah, holding a stool in her arms, staring as well. Whatever euphoria he felt right before, it quickly dies down when he meets her look. Electra backs away immediately, arms going around his upper body to try in vain for some sort of decency. Lube sputters in embarrassment and starts babbling something quick about a chair for the washing stall before quickly turning around to leave. Left is poor Dinah, who calmly rolls inside to place the stool in front of his cot.
“Jackie said to sit down when washing.” She begins, voice so incredibly calm that Greaseball almost feels uneasy. Panicking, he grabs a pillow to cover his core, realising at the last minute that it’s probably stupid. She’s obviously seen him naked before. She gives him a quick look, cheeks flushed as she nods and clears her throat. “So not to put pressure on the knee.”
Greaseball just nods back, throat all clogged up.
“Yeah, thanks.” He mumbles, looking down at his wheels in awkwardness. Electra just stands in the corner, one hand trying to conceal his mouth and jaw, eyes looking at something extremely interesting on the wall.
Dinah smooths out her skirt and straightens up, throwing a quick but knowing glance between them before she starts to make her way back to the door.
“Enjoy your evening, boys.” And then she steps out and disappears. Electra awkwardly closes the door behind her before slowly rolling up to the stool.
“Do you...want me to put this in the stall?”
The whole situation is so surreal, with the beautiful Racer still wet, with the interruption, with Dinah knowing, with Lube knowing. He looks at the chair. And with a fucking stool that he has to sit on in the shower like a fucking child so he doesn’t fall.
In pure frustration, he slams his fist in the side of cot, grumbling in irritation as he lies back down. Electra flinches at the movement, and shit that just makes him feel even worse.
“Sorry.” He mumbles, turning to look at him. “Sorry, it’s just-” He frowns and rubs his forehead. He doesn’t really know what he wants to say with that. How the fuck does he explain?
Nodding carefully, Electra just takes the stool and rolls into the bathroom. He hears running water for a bit, and then the Racer returns, face clean and scrubbed. It’s strange to see him without all that makeup, but he’s no less pretty for that. Skin is still highlighted and flawless, with the long dewy lashes and bluetinted lips. Perfect.
Sitting down next to Greaseball, he runs his fingers through his hair like he did after his first childish outburst. Starlight, maybe he is just a stupid kid.
“Want to...talk about what’s bugging you?” Electra tries then, voice a little stilted. It almost makes him laugh, the Racer is so obviously unused to this it’s comical.
“What, you wanna hear about my dumb feelings?” Greaseball snarks, throwing him a sceptical look. “I don’t wanna talk, alright?” He takes Electra’s hand to try and pull him down. “C’mere, it’s your turn.”
The Racer resists, hand slinking out from his grip as he sits up straighter. What the fuck. Greaseball frowns at him and Electra gives him just as much of a sharp glare back.
“I’m not fucking you when you’re angry.” He says matter-of-fact, then pauses a little. “Not when you’re angry for real, anyway.”
“I ain’t angry.” Greaseball grumbles, cheeks heating up when Electra just looks even more sceptical. “Just a lil’ annoyed is all.”
“Annoyed at what?” Electra snorts. “Dinah seeing us? You weren’t the one covered in someone else’s mess, I should be more upset than you.”
Greaseball groans, rubbing his forehead again.
“That ain’t it.” He mutters, closing his eyes. He can hear Electra sighing.
“Then what?”
Damnit.
“It’s embarrassin’ okay?” He grumbles, turning to look at the wall. “Falling, getting’ hurt.”
Electra sighs again.
“G, I crashed with you, remember?” He pokes at his shoulder. “I know what it’s like. But you didn’t act like this back then.”
“It’s different.” Greaseball sighs.
“Why?”
“Cause-” He starts, groans, turns to Electra, turns back to the wall. “Cause I feel like a dumb kid, crashin’ like that. I should’ve seen it coming. And then you show up outta nowhere, waitin’ on my bed, and I can’t have my way with you the way I want.” It gets easier the more he speaks, fuck maybe he just need to really vent? “And now I gotta lie here with another engine takin’ care of me like I’m a damn invalid. I hate it.”
He grumbles again, face warm. Electra snorts.
“Looked to me like you enjoyed it very much, just saying.” He smiles lightly. “Both the massage and...what followed.”
Well, that ain’t a lie. Damn.
“And Starlight, what a complete guy-thing to say.” Electra continues, rolling his eyes. “What do you mean ‘another engine’ taking care of you?”
Greaseball groans again, rubbing his forehead.
“Fuck, I dunno okay? I dunno.” He folds his arms, chewing his lip in frustration. “Just don’t like being weak in front of-”
“Guys?” Electra finishes, giving him an amused look. “You see me as a guy then?”
That’s an odd question. Greaseball frowns.
“I...guess?” He mumbles, suddenly uneasy. “I mean, ain’t you?” He throws his codpiece a look. “Mostly anyway.” Then he panics. “Not that-not that your junk has anythin’ to do with that, ehr.”
Electra blinks a few times, and then bursts out laughing. That’s not...exactly what he was expecting from all this. He watches the Racer, eyes closed and dainty hand covering his mouth. Engine revving up again, he reaches up to stroke his cheek, giving off an awkward chuckle or two as well. Electra whirrs and opens his eyes after a while, taking a deep breath to settle down.
“You’re so dumb.” He sighs. “Dumb, but sweet.”
Greaseball can just blink.
“Thanks?”
The mood is strangely charged, not with the usual tension they carry between them, but something a little less...lighter? Settling down beside him then, Electra curls into his side, avoiding the leg.
“Look, I don’t know what to say to get you out of this funk.” He trails a finger down his chest, drawing circles around his pecs. Mmm. “I don’t like feeling weak either, so I guess I get your point.” Then he takes Greaseball’s hand and moves it down to his codpiece. “But I’m here to enjoy our time, so don’t be a baby and snap out of it.”
Greaseball actually laughs then, Electra’s no-bullshit-attitude strangely refreshing.
“Alright, alright.” He rumbles, unsnapping the Racer’s belt. “C’mere.” He brings his mouth to his own, kissing him hard as Electra happily falls into him.
It doesn’t take long to soften him up, lips and tongue warm against him, gentle jolts travelling right through his skull and down his gut. Tease.
“Brat.” He whispers in Electra’s ear, hand moving to touch the Racer’s cock, slowly working it into full hardness. “Comin’ here all tied up for me.” He moves to finger his folds, already wet and soft, opening so easily for him. Electra sighs against his shoulder, a breathless whirr now and again making itself heard. “What’d you expect to happen, hm?”
The Racer just whirrs again, throwing him a hungry look.
“You tell me, G.” He says, batting his lashes, and damn. Greaseball chuckles and enters with one digit, then two, thumb rubbing against the shaft like the first time.
“Did you want me to untie you?” He thrums, a third finger joining the others, smiling triumphantly when Electra moans. “Or did you want me to just go to town?” His other hand gathers Electra’s wrists behind his back, holding them tightly. “Turn you around, unable to move and just...fuck you?” He thrusts quicker, and Electra sobs against him, eyes closed and mouth open, breath hot against his skin. When he starts to clench around his fingers, Greaseball slowly pulls out and takes a careful hold of his shaft instead, dragging it out as long as he can. Engine is revving like crazy in his chest, the sight of the Racer all flushed and his hands secured behind his back enough to make Greaseball dizzy.
“Hm?” He asks, thumbing the head and kissing the soft skin behind Electra’s ear. “Did you want that?”
“Maybe.” Electra sighs, voice all tinny, but he has enough focus to turn and smirk at him, blue eyes the darkest he’s ever seen them. Starlight.
“That ain’t a very clear answer, darlin’.” He rumbles and strokes harder, system jumping when Electra moans again, higher this time. “Did you want that?”
He’s trembling against him now, hips rutting into his hand.
“Yes.” He gasps, closing his eyes again.
Mmmnn. Beautiful.
“Yeah?” Greaseball thrums, a little breathless now as well. “Next time, baby.” Electra shivers then. “You surprise me all pretty and wrapped up again, and I’ll do just that.”
Electra hums in pleasure, cock twitching in his palm then.
“C’mon now, Lexi.” He urges, kissing behind his ear again, remembering what the Racer himself said only a short while ago. “Mess me up.”
He comes into his hand, voice all high and breathless like always. Greaseball just lies there and takes it all in, hearing the electric reaching his peak a satisfying balm to both his ego and his injury. To think he can bring forth those noises with only his hand.
“So loud, baby.” He grins as he lets go of his wrists, hand moving to instead cup his jaw. “You want the whole yard to know how good I treat you?”
Electra just pants against his chest, still coming down from the high, but he has enough in him to lightly punch him in the shoulder. Greaseball laughs, stroking his cheek and down his neck.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rumbles, and Electra actually snorts then.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Told you that was impossible, didn’t I?”
Electra readjusts and turns to give him a look, breathing still a little heavy. He doesn’t say anything and neither does the diesel, suddenly finding it a little hard to find words. Or maybe he doesn’t even need to. They look at each other for a while, that same choking feeling starting to make its way back down his throat and straight to his engine. He clears his throat, and Electra smiles in amusement.
“Be right back.” He says then, and gets up from the cot before he can protest. The Racer disappears inside the bathroom again, runs some water, and then returns shortly with a wet towel. Without a word he takes Greaseball’s hand to clean off his cum, and he ain’t sure if it’s his imagination or not, but he thinks he feels a jolt or two pass through his fingers. He clears his throat again, engine revving, and Electra looks at him funny again.
“What?” He asks, moving on to dry off his belly. “Uncomfortable with another engine taking care of you?” He smirks as he says it, trying to mimic his accent again. It sounds like shit, but the fact that he even does it is...kinda cute, actually. Hnn.
“Nah, nah.” Greaseball mumbles. Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought about that. It’d just felt...kinda nice. To have him there doing something so mundane. He hums. “C’mere.” He takes the towel from Electra and throws it on the ground, pulling him down to lie on his chest again.
The Racer chuckles against his skin, but melts into him.
His lover. That wanted to surprise him. That massaged him. He reddens. That blew his fucking brains out. That sat in front of him with his perfect, beautiful face marked with him.
He puts an arm around Electra’s shoulder, fingers playing idly with his hair. His lover.
“Sorry I can’t spoon you this time, darlin’.” He rumbles, traitorous engine revving when Electra just gives him that genuine, warm laugh again.
“I guess I will have to endure.” He says. “You’ll make it up to me.”
Greaseball clears his throat. Oh yeah, he will.
“You bet.”
It’s going to be a long night.
He wakes up a little disoriented, his brain immediately panicking that he’s missed his shift, then the aching pain in his leg firmly reminds him why he hasn’t received a wake-up call. He flinches as a stab of pain jolts through him when he tries to move and grumbles out a swearword or two. Then he hears a soft whirr beside him and is firmly reminded of his companion as well.
Electra has moved off his chest during the night and lies pressed against his shoulder and arm, almost curled into himself, despite his long-ass legs making it a little more difficult. It’s the first time he’s stayed asleep when Greaseball’s woken up, and he takes the opportunity to observe the Racer with all his walls completely down. He still looks fucking perfect, the bastard, mouth a little open and those lashes fanning out. He turns to touch his cheek, but the movement deals another stab of pain to his knee and he swears again, a little louder this time. Electra jolts awake and turns to stare at him then, eyes wide before they travel to his leg. Quickly reaching for the meds beside the cot, he gives the box to Greaseball and surprises him by even kissing his shoulder as he takes a pill.
“Where’s Krupp?” The diesel asks, trying to ignore the way his cheeks heat up.
Electra shrugs.
“Gave him the night off, figured you wanted to escort me back yourself like you usually do.” He looks a little embarrassed then. “That was, of course, before I knew of your predicament. I’ll call him soon.”
Ah.
“When’ll you have to leave then?” He grunts, pressing his knuckle into his hip to work the muscle loose. Electra stares off into space for a second, that weird far off look on his face he gets whenever he talks to his components, or something like that. Greaseball still hasn’t quite figured out how that shit works yet.
“In about two hours.” Electra answers then, turning back to look at him, teasing smile on his lips. “Shower?”
Greaseball just frowns, remembering the stupid stool waiting for him in there, but Electra just smiles wider.
“Trust me, it won’t be so bad.”
The Racer helps him up from the cot, and rather awkwardly leads him into the stall, his much broader frame making him huff a little as he rests an arm over his shoulder. Greaseball chuckles in smugness at his exertion.
“You’re a lil’ shrimp, darlin’.” He grins as he settles on the stool, and Electra just frowns and gives his shoulder a punch.
“And you’re a heavy lump.” He grumbles, but lets out a whirr or two as Greaseball starts to stroke his hip and thigh.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Electra pouts at him but puts on the water and grabs the sponge to throw at his face. Greaseball sputters but catches it without missing a beat.
“Wash my back.” Electra says and settles down in front of him, turning slightly to give him a sultry look. “And I’ll wash yours.” Oh, damn.
They spend a while in there, and the stool ain’t so bad, really. Especially when Electra turns around on his knees and sucks him off again, the height perfect for him to just lean back again the wall and bury his hands in the Racer’s crest, pulling and pushing. Or when Electra settles down on his good leg, grinding against his thigh and kissing him breathless. Starlight.
When the water gets cold Electra helps him out again and back on the cot, where he oils his knee up again and just about pampers him raw. It is...strange, but nice. Hnnnn. He rumbles as he strokes the Racer’s back and ass as he sits on the edge of the cot putting on his gear. Electra swats his hand away now and again, smirking at him, but oh that just makes him all the more adamant. When he starts to pinch Electra gets off the bed and holds up a finger.
“Naughty.” He whirrs, to which Greaseball only grins.
“Look who’s talking.” He thrums, laying back on the mattress to rest on his arms. “Standing there all temptin’ and shit.” Half joking, he lets his eyes travel up and down the Racer’s frame, and he thrums again when Electra visibly preens under his gaze. “Guy could chew you right up.”
Chuckling, the Racer just bats his lashes. Never leaving his gaze, he retrieves the lace still on the floor and loops it around his arm to gather it up, slow and meticulous.
“Next time.” He smirks.
Yeah, absolutely.
Krupp comes knocking soon enough, just standing there waiting with his unsettling pokerface and stiff frame. As Electra bends down to give Greaseball a kiss, he isn’t quite sure if the bodyguard is looking or not, those damn shades betraying nothing. It’s a little weird to just lie there, injured with him so close. He almost feels threatened, and something deeply possessive settles in his gut as he pulls Electra extra close to really kiss him goodbye. The Racer just whirrs in surprise, and when he pulls back Greaseball follows, sitting up for some semblance of being less hurt than he really is.
“Rest up now, G.” He mumbles as he turns to roll over to Krupp. “You better give me what you promised the next time I arrive.”
Engine revving at the reminder, Greaseball can only nod dumbly.
Once they’ve left and he’s alone, he swears quietly to himself, gut tugging and turning in conflict, that same choked up feeling returning.
Electra.
Lexi.
His lover.
Turning to look inside the stall, the small stool stares back at him.
He thinks he needs to speak with Dinah.