Ra crack ships

"Oh, f-fuck." The stutter that left his lips as his hips were lifted and slammed back down only made the other man chuckle, free hand brushing back the hair, sweat causing them to stick to his forehead.

"There's that foul mouth." Another thrust caught him off guard, the attention already dwindling, barely focusing on anything but the fiery burn between his legs, chaffing thighs already sore, muscles clenching from waist down below.

"Shhh, cowboy, you're doing so well for me…"

Was he?

It started earlier in the day. His car, the truck loved beyond its usefulness, broke down with one last stutter of the engine, spurt of the black smoke leaving his exhaust, and that was it. No amount of turning the key in the ignition changed the outcome. The car was dead.

Sam was good at things. He liked to believe himself as a handyman, teenage years teaching him the hard and honest work that was supposed to straighten his ways and make him a reliable man of the household. Leaking sink? He was on his knees, a wrench in his hand. Broken or loose lock? Screwdriver and few minutes of tinkering and everything was fine. Building a shed from scratch? No sweat.

But knowing anything about the monstrosity under the hood of his car? That, was beyond his mind, nothing left to do but to call a mechanic and tow the machine into his garage. Or maybe to a dump, judging by how old it was.

Said mechanic didn't pick up. When he finally did, after getting bombarded by the impatient and frustrated man, he told him to call in the next week instead, his schedule full. And between ending the call and spewing a string of profane curses out in his porch, a familiar tone over the fence called his name.

"Need a hand?" more than one probably, but he would take the two biceps over his self-pity and wallowing.

But his pride wouldn't let him ask so openly about it.

David was less worried about the pride or offended ego, already opening the gate to his house. Living in the neighbourhood was a useful thing, he had to admit.

"Is there even a point? I think it reached its final moment." he mumbled, arms crossed on his chest when the man took a peek.

He said something, and Sam no longer could pretend he understood or knew what was happening, knowledge lost on him. Black magic, but David seemed more than well versed in the cylinders and whatever else was there.

"I've fixed worse. You have a toolbox or should I go get mine?"

Of course he had one. He was a man of the house.

The sweltering heat was unbearable as he watched him work from the shadow spot near his driveway, gravel crunching underneath David's shoes as he hummed to himself, muscles straining the rolled up sleeves, some grease staining the skin in dark splotches. It's been some time already, and even if he was stubborn enough to fix everything, Sam felt bad.

"You thirsty?"

"Don't trouble yourself. I'm almost finished."

And what did it change? He hated being idle while someone else was working.

Glass of lemonade. Chilled, straight from the fridge given to him with a mumbled and almost shy "here" and David drank it greedily, some of the juice dripping down his chin and onto the shirt, same hand that was just deep in the engine now wiping his mouth, lips pursing and glistening with the drink. Sam took the glass back, his own palm pressing right over when he held it, his own mouth growing dry at the sight, desperate for a drink too.

When he finished, he wiped his arms against his jeans, pleased smile on his face, work done, and car working.

When he turned the key and the old engine roared to life, Sam was inclined to thank him way more than profusely.

That's how they ended up on the ratty couch in the back of his garage. David refused every form of payment Sam offered, saying it was just a neighbourly favour. Sam refused to let him go empty-handed, everything that was forcefully put into his mind as he grew up reeling at the possibility of not returning the gratitude in any way. He was taught better, and he was set on following the order he knew.

Now, David had his hands full of his ass, fingers digging into the flesh, guiding the steady motion into a staccato against his lap, body half sitting as the old springs creaked under their shared weight.

"Taking me so well, who could have thought." The teasing never ended, be it words, fleeting touches that lingered close but not close enough to the heat that emanated from between his thighs, chest heaving as his breath hitched, another depth reached. David only chuckled.

"Maybe we should help each other more often. Southern hospitality starts to grow on me."

Sam only panted, mouth shut close to muffle the obscenities that would surely spew, any smart comments lost on him some time ago, between kisses tinged with saliva, bitterness of the lemon and teeth clashing against each other. Messy, rushed and beyond desperate to get off the heat of outside and into a different, even hotter one.

"Come on, cowboy, let me hear you a little."

The pornographic moan that left his vocal cords would put anybody to shame. His hands moved on their own, placed against David's chest, shirt still on, only few buttons undone to reveal the skin and hair underneath. His nails scraped, not enough to leave a mark, the broad chest more than perfect to scar it.

"Mhm, that's it. That's it." he sped up the pace, just a little, just to catch the man on top of him off guard, body slumping forward, forehead almost hitting the backrest of the sofa, of it wasn't for David's shoulders.

He was big. Muscly big, working out and well eating big, the bulk suiting him like lemonade suits a hot day and Sam has never felt more thirsty in his life, saliva dripping from his mouth as he lapped on the exposed skin, messy and sloppy kisses tracing anything that could have been touched by him, gold of the necklace around David's neck getting in the way, making him whine weakly, mind completely and utterly gone. Empty.

Quiet. Beside the repeated mantra of David, please and too much despite being not enough at the same time.

Strong enough, he picked him up so effortlessly that Sam melted into the touch again, only to ease him down again, burn of the stretch going straight to his shaking legs, muscles cramping. But he still kept going, chasing the high that came from David's endless praise and reassurances that he was doing so good.

"Can feel you getting closer, cowboy. Is the ride too much?"

"Please."

"What do you need, sugar?" the fucker said it on purpose, Sam knew. His mind knew, but it was drowning in the pleasure that began to overflow, every inch and thread of his body on David's mercy.

"P-please…p-lease l-let me…" he mumbled, every syllable punched out of him, slap of skin against skin making him slowly see stars right in front of his eyes instead high in the sky. He doubted he would even have the strength to look up at this point.

"Of course, cowboy. Show me."

And show he did, untouched cock spurting in uneven twitches, every single one making him whine and moan as David's hand began to gently stroke the tip, fingers turning sticky with the amount that shot out of him, still not stopping.

Overstimulation and one hazy "too much" later, his hands, the same ones who kept making him bounce on him, gently pulled him down, head cradled against the slightly calloused palm, still softer than silk or the cotton on Sam's flannel, hastily taken off and laying somewhere on the ground, torso only in the white undershirt, tank top embracing his own muscly physique.

He was thicker than David, flesh softer around the edges, cosy layer of pudge on his lower stomach not deteriorating the other man who easily manhandled him onto his lap, jeans pulled down in one swift move. If he wasn't floating so high in the clouds, he would wish to be thrown over his shoulder, carried back to the back seat of his truck and be fucked again, until his mouth only could speak his name and brain only focused on the outline that bullied his prostrate with every single hit.

"Shh, I have you." he did, he felt it, with how his arms embraced him gently despite his rough demeanour.

"A real cowboy, huh?" between the strokes against his face and whispers of comfort, David took a look against the garage, his eyes stopping at the hat sticking out of a carton box of things unused, a very characteristic shape making him smirk, devilish plan already forming in his Sam-focused mind.

The man curled up on his chest, breathing shakily and grabbing at him for purchase, eyes closed as he simply nuzzled into the soft of his chest, hummed in agreement, the teasing tone escaping him fully.

"Next time, you're wearing it."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d messed around in the park that night, neither one trusting the other to bring him home.

Porter had never been with a shifter before. It was…thrilling. David could hold him down–actually hold him down, not just the way Porter let the humans do it. In theory, so could another vampire, but Porter never did that. Other vampires were always potential rivals and enemies, he couldn’t give any of them a sense of power over him like that.

He hadn’t been able to get David out of his head after that. When he went looking for him again, was when he found out exactly who David was.

He told himself he was playing a cunning game when he approached him the second time. He was laying groundwork for his king, ready to do something terrible if needs be.

He was a liar.

That second time they’d gone for coffee first. David was a good person and when Porter made him laugh, it was almost as thrilling as being pinned under him at a hotel later that night.

Even more reason he should have walked away. He didn’t deserve him.

But they’d exchanged numbers and the texting had started…and the sexting.

David was better at this than Porter would have ever guessed. He suspected they both liked being with someone who knew what they were, but wasn’t at all connected to their daily life. They couldn’t want anything more than these moments from each other. They were a secret just because no one knew–because neither of them knew if what they were doing was off limits or not. They belonged to two very different houses, not in conflict with one another but not exactly compatible either.

Porter pushed wet hair out of his face and took a second to just look at David Shaw standing naked in his bathroom. He was tall and thick, a handful of scars and a lot of muscle. “It doesn’t seem fair,” Porter mused, looking at the red marks that would become bruises on David’s thighs and ribs from where he’d grabbed too hard, and those scratches from his teeth. He hadn’t bitten him. They hadn’t crossed that line yet, but they were both flirting with it. “Why do you get to keep the marks and I don’t?” he asked, sliding his hands up and then down his chest.

David’s gaze followed his hands, head cocked to the side and mouth trying to hold back a smirk. “You’re complaining about healing faster than me?” he asked, the audacity of it thick in his voice.

Porter laughed and held out his hand, inviting David to take it when he realized the shifter was waiting his turn for the shower. This was all new for them and he’d learned already that David rarely assumed anything. He didn’t take what wasn’t offered.

Porter didn’t think about why that made him feel so…safe.

He smiled when the shifter took his hand and let Porter draw him into the walk-in shower with him. “Do you have someplace to be?” he asked, turning David into the heat of the spray and feeling a bloom of satisfaction in his chest at the way he sighed and relaxed under the water.

“Not tonight, no,” David said and then seemed to remember who they were. His body tensed up again. Porter was learning that he was almost always ready… ready for what, he hadn’t exactly sorted out, but ready. “I can get out of your hair. I’m sure you’ve got sneaky vampire shit to do,” he smirked around the words.

Porter grabbed the bodywash, gently soaping up David’s back and keeping him from rushing to take off. It was tricky, this thing they were doing of being so close but not really vulnerable. Porter knew it was smart to leave it that way. Smart would be to cut this off. Keep the vague connection to the Shaw pack in his back pocket and stop seeing the shifter.

And the thing was, Porter was smart. Porter did the smart things. He had survived by making hard decisions and getting himself to a place of safety… at least, safer than ever before.

But David was relaxing again under his touch, even when he was massaging the suds up his shoulders, into the back of his neck. Porter could snap those bones so easily. The idea made him feel sick, but it was also what made his heart pound at the fact that David was trusting him. He shouldn’t. Porter had done awful things. He shouldn’t even let Porter touch him. “You’re welcome to stay for a while. I might have food in the kitchen,” he said, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t.

“Might?” David grumbled, letting Porter move his hands down his back, to his sides.

He was careful of the spots that might become bruises. As much as he envied them a moment ago, he worried about them now. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave marks…”

David turned his head to glance back at him, eyebrow raised like he needed to see if Porter was joking.

He wasn’t. He wouldn’t have been that careless with a human. Why had he been with a shifter?

“I thought that was the goal…” David turned around, Porter’s arms still around his waist. They were so close. That worry crease appeared in David’s brow again. “Was I too rough?”

Porter exhaled a laugh, surprised out of his own words for a second. “Never. Are you kidding? Look at me.” He held up his arms and turned a full circle to prove how entirely unmarked he was. But when he landed where he started, looking up at David, the shifter did not look convinced.

“You would have a lot more marks than me if you had my healing and not yours…” David seemed to be thinking about it for the first time, and not sure he liked it.

Porter slid hands up his chest, fingertips skating across his pulse and onward, to cup the side of his neck. “You really don’t need to worry about that. I liked it…very much.”

The crease was still in his brow, his mouth pulling into a frown. Why? Why did he care that much about it? Porter was fine.

“Sweetheart,” Porter cooed. “If I’d wanted you to stop, I would have made you stop.”

David looked him in the eye, maybe trying to gauge if he believed it? Porter grinned, flashing all his teeth like a reminder. He wasn’t human. He liked letting this shifter rough him up, but he was very capable of fighting back if he’d wanted to. This was not a fight. This was not a power struggle. This was just… What? What was it?

The crease in David’s brow smoothed out and he used his fingers to comb some of Porter’s wet hair back, scratching at his scalp and making his eyes flutter shut for a second. “You would tell me if you didn’t like something?”

The question was so simple, so casual, but somehow vulnerable. Porter smiled slyly as his wolf. “I tell you when I like things don’t I?”

David huffed, turning them to trade places and grabbing the bodywash. “You are bossy,” he agreed.

Porter laughed, heart pounding when he realized David meant to wash him. He almost stopped him. Almost told him he didn’t need help. But he didn’t and it felt amazing to be cared for. Porter was all for aftercare, but he took on the caregiver role. He loved being the caregiver after sex. It was one of the only times he ever got to take on that role for anyone, but as David washed him, he realized this was a role he’d never had either.

“Fuck,” he sighed, almost moaned.

David ducked his head to have his mouth near Porter’s ear, smiling around his low words. “You want me to stay for a while longer, biter?” One of his hands slid up, wrapping loosely around Porter’s neck, while the other went low.

Porter did moan then, the sound choking off when David squeezed both parts of him.