Speed

Just smut. Pure unadulterated, dirty smut.
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I’m dirty as a manhole cover.

--John Hiat, Little Head

Cloud knew perfectly well that he could pay someone to perform routine maintenance on Fenrir. But he loved the feel of metal and leather beneath his hands, loved working on his own projects, hell just loved that damn bike. Others joked that the two just needed to be alone. And there were times that watching him care for his beloved motorcycle had the air of voyeurism.

Which was rather what Reno had encountered, walking down to the condo’s maintenance bay to deliver a phone message to his boyfriend. Cloud was hot, sweaty, daubed here and there with dirt and motor oil, and lovingly caressing Fenrir with a polishing cloth. Reno sat on a curb with his beer and decided the message could wait.

Then Cloud pulled off his tank top to haphazardly wipe the sweat and oil from his face, and Reno forgot the damn message altogether.

Months of being lovers had not numbed him to the raw sex appeal that just seemed to ooze from Cloud’s every pore. And to add insult to injury, the man was totally oblivious to the puddles of weeping lust he left in his wake.

So fucking unfair. Reno pressed his cool beer bottle to his face and felt himself get hard without a touch.

“Reno! What’s up?”

What’s up, indeed. Bastard.

“You had a phone message. Damned if I know what it was.”

Cloud just smiled, which didn’t help the situation between Reno and his dick one bit. “You like to watch, huh?” he teased.

Reno remembered he could walk. He stripped off his own shirt and moved himself over to where Cloud and his other lover stood against the cinder block wall. “I fucking love to watch. You gonna do something about it?” Cloud pulled him down into a kiss that said foreplay would not have any part in the afternoon’s festivities.

“Drop your pants and lean over the bike,” Cloud ordered. Reno was amused that others thought Cloud was the passive, quiet, diminutive partner in their relationship. Well, he was neither passive nor quiet in bed and he sure as fuck wasn’t diminutive where it counted, Reno smirked as his jeans hit the cement.

He didn’t care if Cloud ripped him in half. He braced his hand on the wall over Fenrir, moaning in anticipation. Cloud rubbed himself behind Reno, hands still slick with oil from earlier. Gods, the sight of Reno presenting himself like that…He had to look at the ceiling briefly and breathe before he blew all over Reno’s back.

Fuck, I just detailed that bike!

Oh well. It wasn’t like either of them was capable of making it upstairs at this point. He slammed into Reno’s ass, bringing a sling of profanity from both men.

There was no gentleness. Just sex. Just good sex. Reno lowered one arm from the wall, chuckling to notice it already bore marks from the cement blocks, and began to pump himself furiously. He could tell from Cloud’s uneven jerks that his love’s peak was very near as well.

Then with a single groan they both came. Reno, all over the freshly polished gas tank and leather seat of Cloud’s bike.

Cloud was too sated to care. They dressed and Reno shared his remaining beer.

“Okay. So, I’ll help you clean the bike,” he sighed.

“You’d better. Damn thing has enough of your come on it, I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t birth a moped. And we need a shower. When you’re done with poor Fenrir.”

Reno leaned back against the wall and grinned, pleasantly sore and sticky. He considered it work well paid. “Worth it, yo.”