“I wish.”
Crush paused in his tinkering. He rolled out from under the car, his sweatpants pulling tighter across his thighs and bulge, his abs making an appearance. Then his chest, arms, and face. Their eyes met; Crush frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re covered in grease,” Killian realized. “All over. It’s like you’re lubed up for car sex. I mean, sex with a car.”
Immediately after, he wanted to take those words back, too.
Crush stared. And laughed. “That’s—Fuck, that’s an amazing mental image.”
“Really?” Killian groaned into his hands. “You always like the worst lines!”
“I do. So what?”
“It’s weird!”
“I’m too old to care about fitting in,” Crush said dryly. “If I like something, then I like it. Fuck what everyone else thinks.”
Killian blinked. For years, he had felt pressured to fit in—first as a child struggling to win his parents’ approval, and later, as a captured pawn trying to avoid being whipped. It was only recently that he could run his mouth without punishment—because he was finally free from that hellhole of destruction and death.
The irony was that being a pawn hadn’t given him a brain-to-mouth filter; it had only landed him several more beatings.
And now, enough time had passed that he no longer flinched when he blurted something he shouldn’t.
Crush was watching him too closely. “Is that... a strange concept to you?”
Killian scratched the back of his head. “Maybe? Sometimes people beat me when my mouth ran. It didn’t work no matter how hard I tried to shut up. My mouth opened without my permission and I got punished for it.”
Crush grew tense. Ever so quietly, he asked, “Who were those people?”
Killian shuffled from one foot to another, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Um, my mom and dad. And later... the people who had me.”
The alpha’s eyes flashed gold. He growled low and rough. Then the growling stopped, and Crush drew a deep breath. “Fuck.”
“It’s in the past,” Killian said quietly.
“Would you like me to do something about them?”
Killian shook his head. “I don’t want to revisit my past.”
“Okay.” Crush exhaled. He got off the mechanic slider and sat on the floor. “Come over here.” He patted his lap, as though he wanted Killian to... sit on him?
“Do you want me to sit on your lap like you’re Santa?”
Crush snorted. “If that’s what it takes. Come sit on me and tell me what you want.”
“That sounds like a kink,” Killian blurted. “Do people sit on Santa and ask for sex?”
“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised. I could dress up as Santa if that’s something that gets you going.”
Killian shook his head hurriedly. “No thanks.” He sat on Crush’s lap in an attempt to stop the alpha from asking more.
As though he were picking up a skittish animal, Crush slowly slipped his arms around Killian’s waist and drew him closer, until they were chest to back, Killian wrapped in the warmest hug he’d had in a while.
A breath shuddered out of him. “This feels really good. Like I’m wrapped in a warm pancake with abs.”
Crush huffed. “Why a pancake, and not something else?”
“I don’t want to talk about you like you’re a piece of meat!” Killian realized what he’d just said, and cringed. “But I guess a pancake isn’t much better.”
