“You’ve got to quit fucking smoking, man,” Robby says.
Duke’s voice has been hoarse in Robby’s ear as he looks over the small repairs he trusts Robby to make, standing so close that all Robby can smell is tobacco and motor oil.
It worries Robby. Among other reactions.
Duke laughs, low and raspy. “No can do, kid. I’ve been smoking longer than I’ve been fucking, and I’ve been fucking for five years longer than you’ve been alive. Can’t give up something that feels good after having it for so long. Especially when I’ve put in the time to get accomplished at it.”
Robby’s hand tightens around the wrench he’s holding. Duke looks down to check Robby’s work; a lock of hair escaped from his ponytail brushes against Robby’s cheek.
“You’re a great lay, so you won’t quit smoking?” Robby asks, keeping his voice as even as possible.
This time, Duke’s laugh falls across Robby’s earlobe. “I’ve worked myself up to two packs a day, so I won’t quit smoking.”
Robby sets the wrench down. He knows he’ll never hear the end of it if he drops it. He tilts his head back to look up at Duke while he wipes his hands with a rag. “So you being a great lay is relevant how?”
Duke smirks. “Because it makes you blush so pretty. Besides, did I really need to tell you, or did you already know?”
Heat burns on Robby’s neck and cheeks. “Can we get back to the bike?”
Duke’s hand is huge and heavy and hot where he squeezes Robby’s shoulder. “If you think you can focus, sure.”
Robby doesn’t mind when Duke touches him. Likes it. Craves it, even. He’s like Jack in that way. Their touch is good, grounding, never startling. Focus, Robby thinks. Not likely, but neither is Duke letting Robby suck his cock in the middle of the garage, so. He’ll take what he can get.
“I’ll do my best.” Robby picks up the wrench again.
The wrench almost clatters to the ground, but Duke’s hand shoots out to catch it, like he was anticipating the need. He laughs, low and dark. “Careful with an old man’s tools, son.”
The gentle admonishment sends heat down Robby’s spine and blood racing to his cock. He almost says yes, sir before he can stop himself.
Duke presses the wrench back into his hand. Their fingers touch far longer than necessary, Robby looking down at Duke’s scarred thumb against his.
“Try again,” Duke says. He pats Robby’s back. “See if you can keep the garage standing while I go for a smoke.”
Robby rolls his eyes. “I am FIFTY-FIVE years old and the head of the emergency department in a tier one trauma center.”
Duke laughs and nudges at Robby’s thigh. “And I got that scar you were staring at before you learned to read. Behave for me while Daddy runs an errand.”
That hits Robby low in his gut, cock chubbing up faster than he thought possible anymore. He stays down on his knees working while Duke walks outside, partly to hide his bulge and partly because Duke told him to.
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