Page 143 of Jackrabbit

“Pickles.” Beau pulled his hand back so both were on the wheel as he turned onto a road that looked like it led nowhere. “For probiotics.”

“Vinegar kills probiotics.” Colt tapped his hands against his knees.

“Never said nothing about vinegar. Real pickles are just fermented cucumbers.”

“Ew!” Mouth turning down with disgust, Colt turned to Beau, whose eyes were firmly on the road. “Absolutely not. I'll take pills like a normal human, you weirdo.”

“You get used to the fuzzy feeling in your mouth.” Beau turned again.

Colt narrowed his eyes at Beau. “Are you fucking with me?”

Beau turned to him and winked, and Colt kind of short-circuited. What the fuck.

The Caraway Speedway sign showed itself as they got closer to a line of trees at the end of the road, a big ass oak nearly covering it up. Beau kept going until the track was in view, a short track just a bit longer than Udall. He pulled around to the empty pits and parked as Colt put on his socks and shoes. The hauler behind them, shiny and new with Liberty Speedworks slapped across the side, squeaked and creaked as it settled on the uneven asphalt.

Colt rolled his window most of the way up and hopped out first so he could go around to the back door and pull out the bag he'd packed for Toast. He set a bowl of water on the floorboard and spread a few freeze-dried fish around the back seat while Toast watched him and licked his chops.

“You're gonna be good and not tear up this nice Liberty truck, right?” Colt asked as he reached over and scratched behind Toast's ears. “Because you'll lose road trip privileges if you do, okay, my cute ass and nice smile can only get us so much favoritism.”

Hands settled on his hips, and Beau stepped closer until his thighs were pressed against the back of Colt's. “What about your cute ass?”

Colt wiggled his hips and turned his head to smirk over his shoulder at Beau, who was busy pushing Colt’s shirt up. “I've seen a lot of videos that start this way.”

Beau leaned down, his hands burning against Colt's back as he slid them up Colt’s skin. He kissed Colt’s shoulderblade, and Colt sucked in a sharp breath. “We got time.”

“Not in front of thecat, Beau.” Colt turned back to Toast, who meowed silently at him. “His innocent eyes.”

“Yesterday he stood on the fridge and watched while I fucked you against the kitchen counter.” Teeth dug into his muscle, and Colt swallowed at the memory of the way Beau had made him come all over the granite with their unpacked bags at their feet. “No innocent eyes here. But, if you're worried—”

Beau spun him around and scooped him up in one motion, tossing him over his shoulder while Colt laughed and flailed to shut the door to the truck before it was out of reach.

Dangling over Beau’s back while he walked them toward the hauler, Colt reached down and pulled Beau’s polo up so he could run his tongue along whatever skin he could reach, and earned himself a smack to his ass that had his cock swelling against Beau’s shoulder. He squirmed, rubbing himself into firm muscle as Beau opened the hauler door.

Beau deposited him on a workbench Colt’s ass barely fit on and pushed Colt’s legs apart by his knees so he could slide between them. Lips pushed against Colt's, insistent, open-mouthed, stubble rubbing against Colt's chin, and Colt’s head spun more than it had when he'd been upside down.

He wrapped his arms around Beau’s shoulders and slid his tongue into Beau's mouth, all truck stop black coffee and wet heat. Beau’s cock was half hard, pressed against Colt’s pants, and there was already a wet spot cooling in Colt’s boxers. He ground against Beau’s zipper.

It smelled like fresh rubber and sweet racing fuel, layered with Beau’s spicy, warm cologne, and the only sounds were their heavy breathing and the creak of the bench underneath him. Beau licked the backs of Colt’s teeth and reached between them to tug at the waistband of Colt’s shorts, and Colt's hips jerked.

In the hauler. In the Liberty hauler they'd gotten the keys for at four in the morning that very day, Beau was about to put his hand down Colt’s pants. Fuck if that didn't make Colt’s dick twitch.

No more permission needed, Beau pushed his hand down Colt’s underwear and groaned as his fingers slid through precum. “Look at you. Already making a mess.”

Colt rolled against Beau’s hand, begging for those fingers to stop teasing and start stroking, but Beau pulled his hand out instead, goddammit. But it was okay exactly a tenth of a second later when Beau brought his fingers to his own mouth and licked them clean. Holy fuck. Colt watched, his hips shifting, breaths coming in quiet little pants as Beau sucked his own fingers and hummed appreciatively.

“Oh, fuck me,” Colt breathed. Beau was fucking filthy. Jesus.

Beau pushed Colt’s shorts down around his balls and slid his hand over his sensitive tip, spreading moisture down to ease the slide. Bucking up into Beau's grip, Colt dropped his head back into the side of the hauler with a hollow thunk.

“So pretty, boy,” Beau murmured as he worked him over with rough, sure strokes.

The low rumble of another diesel engine cut through the quiet morning, growing louder as it moved toward the parking lot. Colt’s gut lurched, and he tensed. “Wait—Beau.Someone's he—”

Beau bunched up the hem of Colt’s shirt and shoved it into his mouth before he could finish his sentence, and Colt whined, the brief panic turning into a full-body shudder that had nothing to do with fear.

“You make a sound,” Beau growled against the shell of Colt’s ear as he reached his other hand down to rub ruthlessly against Colt's taint. “And I'll leave you desperate. Leaking like a filthy little slut while I go greet our team.”

Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Colt gripped the bench and rutted up into the circle of Beau’s fingers, sweat dripping down his back, hazy with adrenaline and need.