fluorescent adolescents

“The great Finn McMissile needs a favor, hm?” Tomber narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Is that all an old friend is good for these days? A favor?” He flicks ash on the ground. “What kind? Information?”

“Not information.” Finn shrugs elegantly, leaning back against the hood of the car, long legs spread and pelvis tilting toward the other man in a way that’s downright flirtatious. He purses his lips then says, “The other kind.”

Tomber looks momentarily stunned, then gives a raucous laugh.

“The other kind?” he repeats in a chortle. “Since when do you need to go looking for that kind of favor? Don’t you have a reputation with les dames?”

Finn reaches out and plucks the cigarette from the corner of Tomber’s mouth.

“Maybe consider it,” he pauses and takes a drag. “For old time’s sake?”

Tomber laughs again. “I thought that was only when we drink together.”

“Not only,” Finn says smoothly. He places the cigarette back between Tomber’s lips, fingers lingering as the Frenchman inhales.

“For old time’s sake,” Tomber says coyly.

Finn looks relieved already, but before he can relax too much, Tomber shifts closer so that he’s stood fully between Finn’s open legs.

“But first, Monsieur McMissile, you tell me.” With his crutch tucked deeply under his arm, one hand brushes over Finn’s knee while the other brandishes the dwindling cigarette in his face. “What really brings you to old Tomber’s garage asking for such faveurs?”

Finn smiles with an evasive laugh, one that says he’s not going to answer, and that won’t fly. Tomber drops the last of the cigarette on the ground, crushing it under his crutch, then braces both hands on the car with one on each side. He leans closer and subconsciously, Finn slides a little lower on the hood.

Tomber leans down closer and stares at him scrupulously. The knee of his amputated leg presses between Finn’s, and Finn groans.

“You can’t get your girlfriend to do this for you?”

Immediately, Finn’s entire body goes rigid and Tomber feels it.

The mechanic cackles, “ah, mon dieu, McMissile, that’s it, n'est-ce pas?”

“Absolutely not, it’s not—!” Finn stammers, squirming between the hood of the car and Tomber’s hard body.

“Oui!” Tomber cuts him off all too happily. “Ah, Finn McMissile, that hot young fille has you this bothered, no?”

Before Finn can even bite back, Tomber rips his shirt out from where it’d been neatly tucked in, drags his rough palm over bare skin, and Finn’s train of thought derails. His back arches.

Finn had already known before coming here; this is not his best idea.

“She’s my partner,” he hisses through grit teeth. Tomber’s hand slides between them and starts working at his belt.

“Oui,” Tomber says again, voice low and smooth as an engine purr, his coarse mustache scraping over Finn’s neck. “Who you want to fuck.”

“That’s out—,” Finn stutters as Tomber yanks the zipper on his trousers down and slips his hand inside, wrapping loosely around his already hard cock; he’s been half hard since he walked in the fucking place, how embarrassing. “Out of the question.”

By the dark smile on Tomber’s face, the mechanic is enjoying this all too much. His other hand, fingers tinged with grease, hooks into Finn’s mouth and forces it open. He hovers over the agent—who is an absolute wreck, the likes of which Tomber has never seen before—and is so delighted.

He leans closer, inspecting Finn’s open mouth as if it were an engine valve. He asks, “tu penses qu'elle le veut aussi?”

Finn’s French isn’t all that good, but he recognizes enough to audibly groan at the thought.

You think she wants it too?

Tomber dips his head and crushes his mouth into the other’s. He tastes, as Finn remembers from before, like cigarettes and motor oil, and he likes it. His arm hooks around Tomber’s shoulder and grips the fabric of his shirt with bruising force. Tomber’s hand still moves languidly, carelessly, over his cock and Finn thrusts up into the loose grip desperately.

Tomber pulls back, pushes himself up braced against the hood on both hands while Finn sprawls, frustrated, beneath him.