Chapter 2: Grease and Promises
The kiss was a circuit closing.
May’s mouth moved against Amille’s with a hunger that surprised even him. It wasn’t sweet. It was a clash of teeth and shared breath, tasting of bitter oil and that strange, sweet ozone that clung to Amille’s skin. The incubus didn’t yield; he met the force, his hands coming up to frame May’s face, thumbs pressing into the hinge of his jaw.The touch was possessive, absolute.
May wrenched back, gasping, his back pressed against the cold curve of the car’s fender. “Prove me wrong, huh?” he panted, a reckless grin slicing his features. “That your big plan?”
Amille’s eyes were pitch black now, swallowing the weak garage light. “You started this with a fantasy about my desk,” he said, his voice a low vibration May felt in his own ribs. “I’m just moving the venue to something with better… suspension.”
Before May could fire back a retort, Amille turned him around with effortless strength, pressing his chest against the cold metal of the hood. The shock of the temperature against his front, the heat of Amille behind him, created a dizzying contrast.
“You talk about transactions,” Amille murmured, his lips close to May’s ear. “Let’s see your currency.”
A hand smoothed down May’s spine, then gripped the worn fabric of his t-shirt, pulling it up.The cool air hit his bare back. Amille’s other hand settled on his hip, fingers digging in, holding him firm against the hood.May pushed back, not to escape, but to feel the solid weight of him. A low groan escaped Amille, a sound of pure, dark satisfaction.
“Not so chatty now,” Amille observed, his breath hot on May’s neck.
“Fuck you,” May gasped, the words lacking venom, charged instead with a desperate need.
“That’s the idea.”
Amille’s hand left his hip. May heard the subtle shift of clothing, the slick sound of a zipper.His own jeans felt suddenly, painfully tight. Then Amille’s hand was back, not on his hip, but sliding roughly over the front of his jeans, palming the hard outline of his cock through the denim.May slammed a hand against the hood, his head dropping forward.
“All that audacity,” Amille whispered, grinding his own hardness against May’s ass, “and you’re shaking.”
“Adrenaline,” May bit out, pushing back against him again.“You’re not special.”
Amille laughed, a dark, velvet sound. He unfastened May’s jeans with quick, practiced tugs, yanking them down just past his ass. The cold metal of the car seared his skin. He was exposed, bent over the hood of this vintage beast, completely vulnerable.A shudder ran through him that had nothing to do with the cold.
His fingers scrambled for purchase on the slick hood.
“Still a transaction?” he rasped, his voice strained.May couldn’t form words. He nodded, a frantic jerk of his head, then pushed back again.That broke Amille’s control.
He ground his hips against May's ass, setting a deep sensual rhythm. Each thrust slammed May into the unforgiving metal, rattling the car on its shocks. The sounds were obscene: the creak of the car, their ragged, overlapping grunts.
“You feel that?” Amille growled, one hand fisting in May’s hair, pulling his head back. “That’s me proving a point.You can’t control this. You can’t negotiate it.”
“Then stop fucking talking,” May snarled, throwing his own hips back to meet the next thrust, and was rewarded with a guttural moan from the man above him.
Amille’s pace became frenzied. His free hand slid around May’s hip, jerking his cock in a rough, matching rhythm. The dual sensation was overwhelming—May’s vision blurred at the edges, stars bursting in the oil-stained concrete of his view.“Come for me,” Amille commanded, his voice breaking. “This is practice for when you come on my cock while I take what’s mine.”
It was the crude ownership in the words, the sheer arrogant possession, that tipped May over the edge. Pleasure detonated at the base of his spine, exploding outwards in a white-hot rush. He came with a shout, striping the greasy concrete beneath the car, his body clamping down hard around Amille’s length.
The violent clenching seemed to shatter Amille’s last restraint. he stilled, his body going rigid against May’s back. Amille’s groan was a raw, animal thing, utterly devoid of pretense or power.
For long moments, the only sounds were their heaving breaths and the distant, ever-present hum of the city.The weight of Amille slumped over him, heavy and spent.
He heard the soft rustle of clothing being rearranged.Then, silence.A different kind. The charged, violent energy had dissipated, leaving something hollow and trembling in its wake.
May pushed himself up on shaky arms, pulling his jeans up with stiff, awkward movements. His body felt strangely, profoundly awake.He turned to lean against the car, facing Amille.
Amille looked… untethered.His hair was disheveled, his lips swollen. His eyes were a stormy violet, wide with something that looked like shock. He stared at May as if seeing him for the first time.“Well,” May said, his voice hoarse. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The rent’s paid up through… what, next week?”
A strange laugh bubbled out of Amille, breathless and almost helpless. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible.”
“You started it.” May pushed off the car, his legs threatening to buckle.He steadied himself, refusing to show the weakness. “I’m going home. My back feels like I got worked over by a mechanic.”
He began to walk toward the door, each step sending a fresh reminder through his sore body.
“May.” Amille’s voice stopped him.It wasn’t a command.It was… uncertain.
May glanced back.
Amille stood by the car, a dark figure in the pool of halogen light, shadows clinging to him like regrets.“The apartment is yours. Indefinitely.”
May nodded, a slow, deliberate dip of his chin. “I know.”
He turned and walked out into the cool night air, leaving the scent of gasoline and sex behind. The city’s noise rushed in to fill the void in his head.His body ached.His mind was a scrambled mess. But beneath the soreness and the chaos, a single, clear truth burned.He’d won the apartment.
And he had absolutely no idea what game he was playing anymore.