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They’re on their way home when Timmy gets that look in his eye. That familiar look that sets all of Armie's nerves on fire. They had gone for a ride, just needing to get out of the cabin for a while, and had ended up driving through the Catskills.
Now, as they head home, the sun is setting, bathing the car in soft glowy light and it’s quiet, peaceful in a way they rarely get to share. They’re racing down a deserted stretch of country highway, the darkening scenery zipping by, when Timmy's hand squeezes Armie’s thigh.
Armie’s driving, but there’s no oncoming traffic visible in the distance so he takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at him. He’s lazily melted into the passenger seat, his bare feet propped up on the dashboard, head lulled to the side, his half hooded eyes already dark and playful. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and he’s smiling, making him look mischievous, and Armie knows what that expression hides. Timmy squeezes his thigh again, a little higher this time, confirming his intentions, and Armie’s cock stirs.
“Everything ok?” he asks, as though the lascivious look on Timmy’s face isn’t screaming ‘fuck me’.
Timmy only smiles in reply, licking his lips as he moves his hand up a few more inches, and Armie can’t help but react. His eyes dart down to where Timmy’s beautiful hand is now just millimeters from his almost fully hard erection, and he licks his lips too, an unconscious attempt to relieve the dryness of his mouth.
He flicks his eyes back to the road, and as nothing much has changed he looks down once more, watching intently as Timmy’s hand glides down so his fingers can dig into the soft tissue just below the thick muscle.
“What are you doing?” Armie swallows hard, forcing himself to pull his eyes from where the tips of Timmy’s long and elegant fingers are disappearing into the crease of his groin. He sees Timmy shrug in his periphery, and then his hand is firmly cupping Armie’s cock through his khaki shorts.
“Am I offending you?” Timmy coos after Armie recovers from a surprised gasp, not quite able to deliver the line in the same way he had that day on the berm, when Elio was just an extension of his own hidden desires and insecurities played out for the world to see. He already knows the answer when he asks the question these days; the words rolling easily off his tongue now that they’re no longer weighed down by the fear of rejection or having overstepped a boundary.
Armie can’t help but smile, but he keeps his eyes on the road as he takes one hand off the wheel, his large palm easily covering the back of Timmy’s slender hand. He lets him get one more squeeze in, holding his breath so he doesn’t moan, and then he removes it, placing it back on Timmy’s lap.
“Just don’t,” he quotes in turn, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick glance at Timmy beside him, just to see the way his lips move as he smiles.
Ever the thespian, Timmy has the decency to look resigned, if not contrite, but the moment Armie’s hand is back on the steering wheel, his hand is back on Armie's crotch, and much more demanding.
This really shouldn’t surprise Armie. He knows Timmy far too well to think that that would have been the end of it; but it does, and he has to veer the car back toward the center of its lane.
“You ok there big guy?” Timmy teases, fully aware that he’s the cause of this mishap, laughing off Armie’s scowl because while his face might look angry, his cock is rock hard under his palm.
“I don’t recall there being a section on how to drive while getting a hand job when I took my driver’s test, so you'll excuse me if I need a moment to recalibrate.” Armie wants to sound stern when he says it because Timmy’s being reckless, and what he’s doing is dangerous. But the car’s been on cruise control for a while, so his foot is off the gas pedal, which makes it easier for his thighs to part when Timmy moves his hand over the covered length of his cock, and it feels so good that he ends up just sounding breathless.
“They really should,” Timmy says adamantly, as though this is a serious point of concern for
him. “It’s quite dangerous when not handled properly.”
“Funny!” Armie retorts, though his tone lacks the bite of his intended sarcasm because Timmy is pushing up his t-shirt to get to the button of his shorts. "Hey, slow down," he adds when Timmy manages to undo it left-handed, his nimble fingers moving immediately to Armie’s zipper.
Armie laces his fingers with Timmy’s to stop him from slipping his hand inside his shorts, bringing them to his lips so he can kiss their smooth knuckles.
“I’m horny,” Timmy states when Armie lets go of his hand. He's trying very hard not to pout, though he can’t quite hide the youthful dejection of an unspoken ‘duh’ from permeating the words, which makes Armie laugh. Obviously Timmy’s horny. He’s always horny. But he’s rarely so impetuous.
"We’ll be home soon,” Armie offers as though that will somehow fortify Timmy's patience; but patience has never been Timmy’s strong suit.
There's a moment of quiet during which Armie thinks maybe Timmy has decided to be patient after all, but then he feels him shift in his seat, and seconds later a breathy moan fills his ears and goes straight to his cock. He fights the urge to look at him, knowing that by looking he’s giving Timmy exactly what he wants, but a heavy breathy sigh gets the better of him. He takes his eyes off the road again and stops breathing when he sees that Timmy seems to be taking matters into his own hands - no pun intended.
Armie can't help but stare as Timmy palms himself through his joggers, his other hand pushed up under his t-shirt to raise the fabric just enough so Armie can see skin. His fingers flex and release rhythmically around the considerable bulge his hard cock is creating in the cotton fleece, his already pale skin turning white over his knuckles when he squeezes.
“What’s gotten into you?” Armie asks. The little voice inside his head is telling him he needs to focus on the road, but his cock is begging for him to reevaluate current priorities.
"I was hoping you would get into me!" Timmy replies pointedly, emphasizing the ‘you’ as though Armie is withholding something from him unnecessarily.
Armie’s mouth falls open and he scoffs in disbelief. Timmy smirks. He obviously enjoys torturing Armie, so Armie makes a mental note not to forget to make him pay for that the moment they get home; which Armie suspects is exactly what Timmy wants.
“I’m driving!” he challenges, as though Timmy’s not fully aware of this.
"Actually, right now you're swerving," Timmy says amused, and he laughs when Armie's eyes dart back to the road and he realizes they have fully merged into the oncoming lane.
Armie reacts quickly but gently, maneuvering the car back into the right side of the road, but he definitely doesn’t think this is funny.
“You’re a menace,” he grunts, brow furrowed, determined to keep his focus ahead from now on.
Armie manages for a while, ignoring the soft moans and heavy breathing coming from the passenger seat. But soon, Timmy starts to wiggle around and despite his best efforts, curiosity gets the better of him.
“Oh my GOD,” Armie blurts out, eyes bulging, after chancing a glance in Timmy's direction. "Why are you trying to murder us?" he asks, because Timmy has shimmied his joggers down to mid-thigh and is stroking his very exposed, very hard cock languorously. His graceful fingers are curled tightly around his shaft as he slides his hand from root to tip, his skin glistening with precum.
The horror in Armie’s voice makes Timmy laugh, but the sound gets strangled as a shiver of pleasure wracks his body and visibly raises thousands of tiny goosebumps all over his body. He stills his hand and lets it pass, the quiver ending in a moan. He looks at Armie, panting, and smiles.
“Just keep your eyes on the road and we’ll be fine.”
“Easier said than done,” Armie grumbles, but he complies, focusing once more on the empty horizon. “I thought I was the one who had an impulse control issue.”
Again Timmy chuckles. “I’m very much in control.”
Armie doesn’t sound convinced when he hums a monotonous reply, but he doesn’t challenge Timmy. Instead, he focused his energy on getting them home as quickly as possible, ideally in one piece, so he can show Timmy just how in control he isn’t.
So the moaning and heavy breathing continues. Once in a while Timmy’s breath hitches, and those are the moments that require the most concentration of Armie, because his eyes strain with the need to look but he refuses to give Timmy the satisfaction. It’s difficult, because he loves the way Timmy’s cheeks flush and his red and swollen lips fall open when pleasure overwhelms him; how his eyes flutter closed as his head falls back, exposing his throat; how he seems to vibrate in the stillness, his heart beating so hard that if it’s quiet, Armie can hear it. But he does his best to keep focused on the road.
“I’m so close, Armie,” Timmy moans and the sound of his name uttered with such concupiscence actually makes Armie’s cock hurt. He’s fisting the steering wheel so tightly his palms burn, and all he can think is how Timmy’s ass is gonna burn later when he finally gets his hands on him.
“Don’t come yet,” Armie orders, no longer able to fight the desire that’s making every muscle in his body tense and ache.
Going against his better judgment, he turns abruptly onto a dirty road, reaching a hand over to Timmy’s chest to push him back against the seat protectively. There’s an abandoned barn up ahead and he heads toward it, clouds of dust and rock kicking up around the car as it barrels down the path.
“Where are we going?” Timmy laughs - a little nervously maybe? - which makes Armie smile. It’s good for Timmy to get a taste of his own medicine sometimes.
“Did I say you could stop?” Armie questions, after glancing to his right to find Timmy still holding his cock, but no longer stroking it.
Timmy bites back a smirk, eyes going dark again. He shakes his head coyly and resumes touching himself in long leisurely strokes, his eyes fixed on Armie, and Armie has to force himself to look back at the road. A few minutes later, he’s parking the car behind the barn.
“Stay here,” he warns, turning off the motor but leaving the keys in the ignition. “And put your shoes on, it’s gravelly out there.”
Timmy shimmies his pants back up and fumbles to find his Converse on the floor, slipping them on unlaced while he watches Armie through the windshield. Exhilaration makes his heart race, and he twists his hands restlessly as he waits for Armie to scout the area, looking in and around the old dilapidated barn to make sure they’re alone.
The sun has set and the sky’s pretty pink hues have turned a dusky deep violet. A soft summer breeze makes the shadows cast by the car’s headlights dance against the old structure, and Timmy can smell the lavender fields he knows are in the distance. It’s all very illicit and romantic, and Timmy thinks his heart might explode with the surge of love he feels for Armie in that moment.
Finally satisfied that they won’t be seen, Armie opens the passenger side door and offers Timmy his hand. Timmy immediately slips his palm into Armie’s grasp and as soon as he unfolds himself from inside the chassis, he finds himself pinned between the car door and Armie’s heavy body.
“You were being very naughty,” Armie says gruffly, gripping Timmy’s jaw.
He hovers his lips just below the spot behind Timmy’s ear that makes him lose all reason, and a shiver ripples over Timmy’s skin, ending in a shudder that makes him moan loudly. Armie’s fingers sink into the hollows of Timmy’s cheeks when his mouth opens to release the sound and he squeezes a little, forcing him to open wider, teasing his tongue with an extended finger before releasing him.
“Don’t use that word,” Timmy chastises, sounding breathless even as he tries to regain control of the situation. His hands are back on Armie’s pants, working hard to get them undone but once more Armie stops him, lacing their fingers and twisting Timmy’s arms behind his back. He grunts as he jerks to get free, but it's a futile show of defiance. He knows Armie easily overpowers him and he likes it that way.
“What word?” Armie teases, brushing Timmy’s neck with his lips as he speaks. “Naughty?”
Timmy nods, trying to ignore the way all the little hairs at his nape have raised. “Yes. It makes me feel like I should be calling you Daddy.”
“Maybe you should.”
Armie says it so seriously that Timmy’s first reaction is to laugh, but when his arms are pulled even tighter behind his back and Armie presses his erection against his lower belly, Timmy’s laughter turns into a squawk as excitement seers through his body like lightning.
“Stop joking around and fuck me,” he demands, jerking his shoulders to get free, because if Armie’s isn’t going to get this show on the road then he’s just going to take what he needs. But Armie’s large hands more than easily subdue his ardors and he finds himself pinned even harder against the car.
“Ask me nicely,” Armie insists, swaying his hips so their cocks rub against each other, the sound of Timmy’s appreciative groan making him smile.
“Please fuck me,” Timmy quickly obliges, melting into the cage of Armie’s arms, his voice pleading now that he’s abandoning the pretense of control. “I’ve been waiting to have your cock inside me all day.”
Armie hums his approval, low and close to Timmy’s ear, but he doesn’t release him. Instead he cranes his neck backward a little so he can watch his face when he says: “Please fuck me, what?”
“Please fuck me, my Love?” Timmy tries, though he’s just delaying the inevitable. He knows exactly what Armie wants to hear, but for some reason he’s struggling to say it.
Armie shakes his head. “Please fuck me, what?”
“Armie-ee!” Timmy whines petulantly, even stomping his foot which makes Armie laugh. “I swear to God you live to torture me.”
“Look who’s talking. Now be good and ask me properly.”
Timmy hesitates. It’s not that he isn’t into it. It's that he's into it more than he's comfortable admitting. But as much as he wants to pretend that’s not the case, his body flushing pink all over gives him away. His ears in particular are traitorous. They’re bright red and burn so hot he’s convinced Armie can feel the heat radiating from them. His mind scrambles, trying desperately to find a way out of having to say the word, but then Armie raises an expectant eyebrow and the look is enough to bring Timmy close to coming.
“Please fuck me, Daddy,” he whispers, the words sounding that much more lewd because his embarrassment is prevalent, and the way that turns him on makes him feel dirty in a most exciting way.
“Good boy,” Armie praises, but Timmy barely has time to revel in the approval before Armie’s mouth crashes over his and he’s being kissed so fervently he thinks he sees stars.
When his hands are released, he wraps his arms around Armie’s neck, ignoring the pain in his shoulders caused by how tightly his arms had been twisted behind his back. He instinctively wraps his legs around Armie’s waist and locks his heels together behind his back when he’s picked up and carried over to the hood of the car.
Armie drops him on the warm metal as delicately as his eagerness permits, which is to say not delicately at all, but Timmy’s ‘ompf’ is swallowed by another more frantic kiss. They break only so Timmy’s shirt can be pulled off and discarded, the evening's cool breeze not bothering him because heat emanates from the engine block below him, and Armie’s body is its usual furnace. He spreads his knees wide so Armie fits between them, and he’s finally able to get Armie’s shorts halfway down his ass.
Armie inhales sharply when Timmy’s cool palm closes around his fevered erection, his hips already pumping forward into his fist and he has to force himself to stop. There’s always been something about Timmy’s hands that drives him crazy. They’re so delicate and lithe, feminine almost in their grace but like the rest of him, they’re surprisingly strong and incredibly agile. His skin’s been a little dry lately so they aren’t as smooth as usual, but the slightly rough patches on his fingertips and just above his heart line make his touches that much more pleasurable when he starts lightly stroking him.
“God I love your cock,” Timmy mumbles between kisses. “You’re never allowed to deny me access to it again.”
Armie wants to laugh but he can’t. He can barely breathe because Timmy is rubbing the head of his cock with a precum slicked thumb while gently squeezing his balls with the other hand, and it feels incredible.
“I was driv--,” he starts to protest once he can inhale enough air to form sound.
“Yeah yeah, you were driving, I know, I know,” Timmy interjects with enough dejection in his voice that Armie doesn’t need to see the eyeroll to know how dramatic it is.
“Such a brat,” Armie chastens, but there’s no sharpness to his tone. He loves how bratty Timmy can be and Timmy knows it, so there’s no sense in the pretense.
It isn’t long before Armie’s shirt joins Timmy’s on the grass and Timmy is lying back with Armie draped on top of him. Armie laces their fingers so he can pin Timmy’s hands just above his head while he devours his neck, biting and licking a wet trail from shoulder to ear and then across his jaw so he can do the same to the other side. Timmy writhes under him, pushing his heels against the bumper so he can raise his hips and press their cocks together, but the barrier of his pants mutes the sensation infuriatingly.
“Pants!” he pants, fighting to free his fingers from the vice of Armie’s hands. “Get them off me.”
Armie groans at this, not wanting to stop working on the angry-looking mark he’s leaving on Timmy’s collarbone, further expressing his displeasure by biting his neck quickly before he straightens up, the imprint left behind adding some variety to the series of red and purple love marks he’s already decorated him with. They both paw at Timmy joggers, getting them down to his shins where they get stuck on Timmy’s Converse.
“Who told you to put these on?” Armie asks, as though said person wasn’t him.
He ignores the ‘seriously?’ look Timmy gives him and takes the shoes off, flinging them over his head. They’re probably going to have a hard time finding them later, but neither of them cares at the moment.
With his pants finally off, Timmy pulls at Armie to get him back on top of him, but he doesn’t budge. He’s looking down at Timmy as though he’s a surveyor and Timmy's body is a piece of land he wants to claim, sweeping his eyes slowly and appreciatively over the length of his arms, the length of his torso… the length of his cock.
“Jesus Christ you’re beautiful,” he professes, the words so rife with appreciative praise that they make Timmy blush again.
“Thank you,” Timmy replies shyly, immediately pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from keening out loud under Armie’s praising eyes.
Soon Armie’s hands join in, exploring the incline of Timmy’s thighs, the planes of his abdomen, and the span of his chest. Timmy’s muscles spasm under each pass, almost too sensitive now because of how horny he is, and he can’t help but bring his hand to his cock so he can stroke it a little.
“Don’t stop,” Armie requests when Timmy moves his hand away again. “I want to watch you fuck your hand.”
“But I want you to fuck me. I need your cock Armie. Please,” Timmy begs, and everything about this is working for Armie. The setting; the way Timmy pleads, all needy and desperate, not caring if someone can see or hear him; the way he’s draped naked over the hood of the car, his thighs spread wide so he can curl a hand tightly around his erection to stroke himself with an increasing loss of restraint, his other hand raised to his chest, where his nails dig into his skin leaving little moon-shaped indentations alongside Armie’s earlier work.
“I will if you’re a good boy and get yourself ready for me.”
Timmy gets to work immediately. He’s not usually shy about showing off for Armie, but Armie would have thought being outside in a public area would have given him a little more pause. Apparently not. Timmy brings the hand at his chest to his mouth and slips two fingers past his lips, sucking them down to the second knuckle before he works his tongue around and between them, getting them slick and wet with his spit. And if Armie thought that was a sight to see, watching him raise his knees to his chest and bring those same fingers to his hole so he can push them in to get himself wet for Armie’s cock sends his world spinning.
He eyes Timmy ravenously, watching him stroke his cock slowly and finger his ass at the same time, his beautiful face tensed in concentration as he does his best to be a good boy for Armie. He does this a few times, bringing his fingers to his mouth, covering them in more spit and then reaching between his pulled-up knees to push them back in, his hole stretched out so prettily around them.
“Can you fuck me now?” Timmy whines needily, peering at Armie through barely open eyelids, looking desperate and delicious. His lips are bruised and bitten, as much because of Armie’s earlier ardors as well as his own habit of sucking them between his teeth; and his skin is ruddy and feverish, covered in a sheen of sweat that Armie wants to lick off.
“Ask nicely,” Armie demands, his voice thick and gruff with his own need, and this time there’s no trace of embarrassment as Timmy says:
“Please fuck me, Daddy.”
When Armie finally sinks his cock into Timmy’s ass, he thinks he's died and gone to heaven. “Such a good boy,” he says, grabbing Timmy by the back of the thighs so he can pull out just enough to push back in slowly, smiling at the way this makes Timmy groan frustratedly.
Timmy likes to be fucked hard. He likes it when Armie pounds into him like a jackhammer, pinning him down and using his hole or his mouth until he’s covered in Armie’s come. Under normal circumstances, Armie would of course give Timmy what he needed, but only after he’d tortured him a little longer, especially after the stunt he pulled in the car earlier. But he's been hard since Timmy first touched his thigh, and he thinks he might go crazy if he doesn’t find some relief soon, so he's quicker than usual to oblige.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Timmy repeats almsot like a mantra, back arching off the hood as Armie picks up the pace and slams into him, his fingers curling around Armie’s forearms, not because he needs to hold on but because he likes to feel Armie’s muscles under his hands while he’s being fucked.
The sound of skin slapping against skin and Timmy’s deep euphonic voice fills the air around them, and Armie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. He could listen to Timmy moan and groan for days.
“Oh fuck, I’m coming,” Timmy cries out unexpectedly, and his body shudders as his cock leaks a flowing stream of clear fluid that drips over his belly and down his sides. The only person who's ever been able to make Timmy come untouched is Armie. “Don’t you dare stop, keep fucking me,” Timmy orders when Armie tries to slow down to give his ass a short reprieve, but Timmy isn’t having it. His cock is still rock hard and he brings his hand to it, looking at Armie with a greed that makes Armie weak in the knees. “Make me come again.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Armie says adamantly, but he restarts fucking Timmy in earnest.
He brings a hand to Timmy’s throat, gripping it gently at first, applying little to no pressure, just because he likes to feel the way Timmy’s muscles move when he swallows or moans. But then Timmy brings his free hand up and covers Armie’s, squeezing his fingers to show him how he wants to be choked.
When Timmy comes the second time, the sound of his orgasm is quieted by the vice of Armie’s hand around his throat, but regardless Armie can feel the force of it in the way his thighs slam shut around Armie’s hips and his pelvis bucks up off the hood of the car as his cock shoots ropes of white come on his fingers and his belly. Armie follows suit just moments later, filling Timmy with a hot release of his own.
Timmy oomfs when Armie collapses on top of him, which pins him to the car again, but he loves feeling the weight of him on his body so he wraps his arms around his back and gently grazes his fingers over his spine while their breaths regulate and their hearts slow. Eventually, the fear of being discovered does start to creep in now that they’re no longer fuck-drunk, and Armie relectantly get off, helping Timmy sit up.
He’s looking for one of Timmy’s shoes in a patch of dark grass when Timmy says he’s hungry.
“We can stop at a drive through if you want,” Armie offers, followed by a victorious ‘AHA!’ when he finds Timmy’s missing Converse. “Or if you’re up to it we can go to the drive-in. Get some shakes and burgers and watch a movie.”
“I’m a little tired, maybe we can do that tomorrow,” Timmy replies, stifling a yawn. “I’ve always wanted to fuck at a drive-in.”
“Of course you have,” Armie chuckles, slipping the shoe on Timmy’s foot before helping him jump down from the hood so he can kiss him.
It’s pitch dark now as they make their way back to the highway and Armie drives slowly, his fingers laced with Timmy’s over his thigh.
“Did you have a good day,” he asks, bringing the back of Timmy’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his rounded knuckles.
Timmy nods sleepily. “You?”
Armie smiles and kisses Timmy’s knuckles again. “I always have a good day when I’m with you.”