Peanut Butter, Molasses, and Star Fruit - Shoot to Thrill
Author: askingxalice
Title: Shoot to Thrill
Summary: Andy isn’t very happy with Oz’s new obsession.
Story: Phase
Timeline: April 2017 - Andy is 33, Oz is 31
Challenge: Peanut Butter #6 (metal), Molasses #29 (slow burn), Star Fruit #7 (the pleasure is all mine)
Word Count: 1,021
Rating: NC-17
Andy had thought Oz had gone insane when he came home one Saturday, a tow truck following him home with what could only be described as a complete piece of shit hooked to the back of it. But there had been no arguing with the Irishman’s complete enthusiasm when he had tried to argue that they had no use for what he was thought was a pile of rust. When those words came out of his mouth, Oz looked at him like he was the crazy one, and then ranted about something involving the words ‘sixty nine’ and ‘firebird’. After that, Andy simply left him to his insanities and hoped that too much money wouldn’t be wasted on this odd little venture.
It wasn’t too much of a problem the first few weeks. Oz seemed to spend more time online and on the phone looking for replacement parts, which he insisted had to be completely vintage. Andy would have asked why they just couldn’t be replaced with modern parts, but didn’t want to risk having to listen to another rant that involved words he just didn’t understand. Cars were Oz’s thing, not his. He’d much rather draw something. After that, though, he rarely saw Oz in his off hours, but always heard him; the garage was filled with rock music, accented cursing, and the sound of reconstruction. It was a task for Sarah to drag Oz out of the garage and to the dinner table every night, but she made sure he never skipped out on what she insisted should be a family tradition.
One night, Andy decided that enough was enough. He missed his husband, and he wasn’t exactly sure if he should be depressed or angry that he was being cheated on with a hunk of junk. It was perfectly alright for Oz to have his hobbies, but it was bordering on obsession at this point - Andy wasn’t sure what time he had come to bed the last couple of nights, but it must have been long after he himself had drifted off to sleep. Barging into the garage, he had a rant fully formed and planned in his head, truly he did. The problem was that it just seemed to all disappear once he actually paid attention to his surroundings.
The car was more car shaped now, and did look in better condition than it had the first time he saw it. Entire parts of the body had been replaced, leaving it less of a rust heap and more of a calico creature that he didn’t quite comprehend. The hood was up with a shirtless Oz bent underneath it, engine grease covering his hands and smeared over his arms and chest.
Andy suddenly had to fight off an erection.
Cars weren’t his thing, but Oz was. Andy knew him well enough to know that he very rarely looked at anything as intensely as he was the interior of the car engine; usually, a look that focused was followed by lips and tongues and teeth and sex. It took a long moment for Andy to manage speech, his mouth so dry and blood leaving his brain that he was surprised he had the ability to even do so. By that time, Oz had moved to a nearby sink to scrub off his hands, a smirk dancing across his lips that told Andy all too well that he had been able to read his husband’s mind just fine. Damn him. “Um...”
Before Andy could fully pull his mind back to the present, Oz was standing in front of him and pulling him down for a kiss. Part of him piped up that his shirt was getting covered in water and soap, but it was quickly shut out by lust, and Andy didn’t hold back a groan as Oz’s teeth caught on his lip ring. The pain mixed with pleasure, even as there was a murmured apology as hands wandered and Oz pushed them back towards the work table that was pressed against one of the walls.
He wasn’t surprised that his pants were undone by the time they reached the table, and even less surprised that he was completely hard and at full attention. Andy let out a cry as Oz wrapped a hand around his cock, slow caresses quickly becoming fast strokes. His finger’s scrambled for a grip on anything, heady noises escaping him. Andy settled for grasping at Oz’s hips, his grip tightening and loosening with each movement
“God, I love when you make sounds like that.” Oz murmured against Andy’s throat, voice hoarse and accent thicker than usual. “I’ve been neglecting you, I know. Swear I’ll make it up to you. Been planning ways, once the car is finished. Fuck you on the hood. Blow you when you’re driving. All sorts of ideas, lover.”
“You - Fuck, yes, like that.” Andy panted. “You m-might want to hurry up and-“ He cut himself off with a moan as teeth scraped against his neck, the hand around his length tightening briefly. “Finish working on it, then.”
Oz chuckled. “Bit occupied, at the moment.” He squeezed again, and the answering sound sent a rush of lust through him. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and quickened his ministrations. “Though, the faster I get you off...”
“Not gonna take long.” Andy’s hips thrust forward to meet each stroke, his arms wrapped around Oz as he let his forehead rest against the other man’s shoulder. “Love you so fucking much.”
“You better.” Fisting a hand in Andy’s hair, Oz lifted his head up to kiss him again, all teeth and tongue, and he thought he might be able to taste Andy’s moans as he came. The tattoo artist collapsed against him, trembling, once he came back to Earth, uncaring of the come that was splashed across Oz’s stomach and hand.
“Love you so fucking much.” Andy repeated, the words shakier than they were before.
Oz smiled, pressing a kiss against Andy’s temple before gently leading him towards the rather Spartan shower that the garage held. “I love you too.”
Title: Shoot to Thrill
Summary: Andy isn’t very happy with Oz’s new obsession.
Story: Phase
Timeline: April 2017 - Andy is 33, Oz is 31
Challenge: Peanut Butter #6 (metal), Molasses #29 (slow burn), Star Fruit #7 (the pleasure is all mine)
Word Count: 1,021
Rating: NC-17
Andy had thought Oz had gone insane when he came home one Saturday, a tow truck following him home with what could only be described as a complete piece of shit hooked to the back of it. But there had been no arguing with the Irishman’s complete enthusiasm when he had tried to argue that they had no use for what he was thought was a pile of rust. When those words came out of his mouth, Oz looked at him like he was the crazy one, and then ranted about something involving the words ‘sixty nine’ and ‘firebird’. After that, Andy simply left him to his insanities and hoped that too much money wouldn’t be wasted on this odd little venture.
It wasn’t too much of a problem the first few weeks. Oz seemed to spend more time online and on the phone looking for replacement parts, which he insisted had to be completely vintage. Andy would have asked why they just couldn’t be replaced with modern parts, but didn’t want to risk having to listen to another rant that involved words he just didn’t understand. Cars were Oz’s thing, not his. He’d much rather draw something. After that, though, he rarely saw Oz in his off hours, but always heard him; the garage was filled with rock music, accented cursing, and the sound of reconstruction. It was a task for Sarah to drag Oz out of the garage and to the dinner table every night, but she made sure he never skipped out on what she insisted should be a family tradition.
One night, Andy decided that enough was enough. He missed his husband, and he wasn’t exactly sure if he should be depressed or angry that he was being cheated on with a hunk of junk. It was perfectly alright for Oz to have his hobbies, but it was bordering on obsession at this point - Andy wasn’t sure what time he had come to bed the last couple of nights, but it must have been long after he himself had drifted off to sleep. Barging into the garage, he had a rant fully formed and planned in his head, truly he did. The problem was that it just seemed to all disappear once he actually paid attention to his surroundings.
The car was more car shaped now, and did look in better condition than it had the first time he saw it. Entire parts of the body had been replaced, leaving it less of a rust heap and more of a calico creature that he didn’t quite comprehend. The hood was up with a shirtless Oz bent underneath it, engine grease covering his hands and smeared over his arms and chest.
Andy suddenly had to fight off an erection.
Cars weren’t his thing, but Oz was. Andy knew him well enough to know that he very rarely looked at anything as intensely as he was the interior of the car engine; usually, a look that focused was followed by lips and tongues and teeth and sex. It took a long moment for Andy to manage speech, his mouth so dry and blood leaving his brain that he was surprised he had the ability to even do so. By that time, Oz had moved to a nearby sink to scrub off his hands, a smirk dancing across his lips that told Andy all too well that he had been able to read his husband’s mind just fine. Damn him. “Um...”
Before Andy could fully pull his mind back to the present, Oz was standing in front of him and pulling him down for a kiss. Part of him piped up that his shirt was getting covered in water and soap, but it was quickly shut out by lust, and Andy didn’t hold back a groan as Oz’s teeth caught on his lip ring. The pain mixed with pleasure, even as there was a murmured apology as hands wandered and Oz pushed them back towards the work table that was pressed against one of the walls.
He wasn’t surprised that his pants were undone by the time they reached the table, and even less surprised that he was completely hard and at full attention. Andy let out a cry as Oz wrapped a hand around his cock, slow caresses quickly becoming fast strokes. His finger’s scrambled for a grip on anything, heady noises escaping him. Andy settled for grasping at Oz’s hips, his grip tightening and loosening with each movement
“God, I love when you make sounds like that.” Oz murmured against Andy’s throat, voice hoarse and accent thicker than usual. “I’ve been neglecting you, I know. Swear I’ll make it up to you. Been planning ways, once the car is finished. Fuck you on the hood. Blow you when you’re driving. All sorts of ideas, lover.”
“You - Fuck, yes, like that.” Andy panted. “You m-might want to hurry up and-“ He cut himself off with a moan as teeth scraped against his neck, the hand around his length tightening briefly. “Finish working on it, then.”
Oz chuckled. “Bit occupied, at the moment.” He squeezed again, and the answering sound sent a rush of lust through him. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and quickened his ministrations. “Though, the faster I get you off...”
“Not gonna take long.” Andy’s hips thrust forward to meet each stroke, his arms wrapped around Oz as he let his forehead rest against the other man’s shoulder. “Love you so fucking much.”
“You better.” Fisting a hand in Andy’s hair, Oz lifted his head up to kiss him again, all teeth and tongue, and he thought he might be able to taste Andy’s moans as he came. The tattoo artist collapsed against him, trembling, once he came back to Earth, uncaring of the come that was splashed across Oz’s stomach and hand.
“Love you so fucking much.” Andy repeated, the words shakier than they were before.
Oz smiled, pressing a kiss against Andy’s temple before gently leading him towards the rather Spartan shower that the garage held. “I love you too.”