Greased

In the dim glow of the auto shop, oil-slicked air thick with the scent of rubber and metal, Justin Riddick leans over the engine bay, his callused hands guiding James Hamilton's fingers around the cool steel of a wrench. Justin's voice, low and steady, cuts through the hum of fluorescent lights: 'Feel that torque—twist it firm, like you're claiming what's yours.' James, the fresh-faced newbie, sweats under his grease-stained shirt, his pulse quickening as Justin presses close from behind, their bodies brushing in the tight space. A deliberate grind of hips against the workbench, Justin's breath hot on James's neck, teaching more than mechanics now. Tools clatter forgotten as hands roam—Justin's unzipping James's fly with expert ease, freeing his hardening cock to the cool shop air. James gasps, gripping the edge, while Justin kneels, lips parting to take him deep, throat working with the same precision he applies to pistons. Saliva slicks the shaft, Justin's tongue swirling expert patterns, drawing out moans that echo off concrete walls. James thrusts instinctively, fucking Justin's mouth with building urgency, until release shudders through him, hot spurts swallowed down without a drop spilled. Justin rises, wiping his lips with a smirk, the lesson in teamwork sealed in shared, salty satisfaction.