rackofbadcds | something so sentimental you make so detrimental

When he was on-base, Engineer spent most of his off-time tinkering. Camping, music, or hanging around the others were always options, naturally, but the mercenary almost always had a personal project going on.

This time, it was technically someone else's project. Miss Pauling asked him (re: not-so-subtly suggested) to take a look at her moped a while back, and after they both schemed an effective way to liquify about 80 bodies, he figured - why not?

Turns out, liquifying people is easier.

Engie can be found in his garage, hunched over a purple moped and muttering details nonsensical to anyone but himself. Between engine grease and the desert heat, he shucked off his team-issued shirt and tied his overall straps around his waist, showing off a farmer's tan and old tattoos poking out through an undershirt.

Seriously, though. The thing in front of him was a mess. Save for a decent exterior, it was near-falling apart on the inside, a damn miracle it even held together long enough for Pauling to drive it here. It looked nice enough, sure, but holy hell if she didn't exaggerate the sort of noises it made. Finally, the merc sighs and stands from his work stool, tossing tools onto a roving cart and stepping to his workbench nearby to clean his hands.

Yep, he needs a break.

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Definitely desperate. The feather-light touch alone has him shiver with a quiet, embarrassing gasp. He's going to be embarrassed about a lot of things later, but whatever!! There's a hand!!! On his dick!!!!!

That said: fuck you, buddy, because it's definitely not enough. He growls in frustration, then tries thrusting his hips up, just to get more.

It doesn't work much. He can barely move to begin with, but he tried.

Aw. He can't decide if he's tickled by the reaction or emboldened by the frustration. Somewhere in-between.

Spy digs his fingers into Engie's thigh a little tighter, just to keep him from accidentally falling off or slipping. He can't give much in terms of wit this time, though, because as he presses harder against Engie's dick, he also thrusts forward as deep as he can go.

So the only thing he has to say is a strained groan as he momentarily loses his composure, sighing against Engie's shoulder before he starts moving again. His pace is hard but slow, alternating with the rise and fall of his palm. He's teased long enough, he thinks.

Engie groans with him, no complaints about the pace anymore. This was good. Perfect.

He wraps his legs around Spy's hips tighten and dips his head into Spy's shoulder again. It's a slow and thankful enough pace, but Engie might be thinking of blueprints, schematics, the firing rate of tripod-mounted machine guns just to keep from shooting off too quickly.

Not that he'd really mind if he did.

The nice thing about this pace is that it lets Spy play. He plays with angles, adjusting to hit that sweet spot and see what kind of noises it draws out. Drawing his hands along Engie's thighs, pulling back and kissing at his shoulders and neck, and all while being able to take his time.

Well, to an extent. His stamina isn't what it used to be, and he slows down just a little so he can compose himself.

"Do let me know when you're close, mon amoreux," he says breathlessly. Like he's not ready to pop off any minute.

It takes a second for the question to register. Working out phong equations in his head isn't working, and his stamina isn't what it used to be either.

He moans again - mostly because he's close, partly because he doesn't want to admit that. He hasn't said much in a while beyond pants and groans, so it takes him another second to find his voice again.

"Close."

Just what he wanted to hear. Spy squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on breathing so that he doesn't come just yet. Not before Engie does. He presses his hips forward, driving himself into the hilt, and draws his hand up Engie's cock in a long, firm stroke, slowly and intently jerking him off.

His intent is pretty obvious as he mutters quietly, "I've got you. Go ahead."

Yep. It doesn't take long. Engineer gasps as he feels Spy hit him just right, his hand pull him just right, the murmur perfect, and he's already coming undone.

He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head into Spy's shoulder, letting teeth graze against skin and clothing before his mouth opens in as quiet of a shout as he can muster. He almost wishes they were somewhere he could be much, much louder, but he'd be lying if the thrill of sneaking around didn't get him off as much as the sex did.

He comes hard between Spy's stomach and his own and long, almost painful spurts. Gripping the back of Spy's mask, it hits him white hot behind squeezed-shut eyes as he's gasping between each wave of incredible pleasure. He tries to thrust up again, despite multiple tries that proved moving fruitless.

Not that it mattered. It took a good while for him to finally come down, still gasping for air and moaning as he prepares to let Spy finish too.

Yep. Garage sex good.

Maybe this close, Dell can feel how tense Spy is, desperately trying to hold back as he drives him to the limit, then past it. All through his orgasm, Spy never lets go, although he does go still as he waits for Dell to ride it out. It's so hard not to let loose, feeling him muffle himself on Spy's shoulder and the graze of teeth against his neck.

Only once Dell seems to be coming down does Spy let go, digging his fingers into his hips before thrusting up into him once, twice - and it tilts him over the edge, hissing and letting his head all forward to press their foreheads together as he finally comes.

He rides it out lazily, letting go of Dell's hips to curl his hands around his shoulders. Once Spy's finished, he surprises himself by kissing Dell gently before he pulls away and asks, "Good break, chéri?"

Though he was ready for Spy to finish, Engie's post-orgasmic haze is quickly interrupted as he feels fingers in his hips and Spy's cock twitch inside him. Still, he moans sharply through the last few thrusts and the resulting warmth, and his hand drifts from the vicegrip on Spy's mask to a gentler hold on his shoulder as they both ride it out.

He doesn't expect the kiss. Between the haze and everything else, though, he doesn't protest, his only response a mild hum in surprise.

"Yeah... yeah," he grunts as Spy pulls away and, despite the discomfort, laughs weakly. "Could ask you the same thing, though."

Seriously, it was easier to feel how much the other merc held back after he came first. He brings his arms back up over Spy's neck and holds his bound hands out.

"Little help?"

something so sentimental you make so detrimental

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