Word Count: 458
Summary: Milos is doing something that makes him happy. Alex also intends on doing something that makes him happy...
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
The words cut through his peaceful thoughts and made him jump, the chamois leather pressed hard against the tank. Alex. Of course it was Alex. He took a deep breath to calm his suddenly pounding heart and twisted to look over his shoulder at him.
He’d at least stopped before his shadow had fallen over him. Considerate. How unlike him.
Milos snorted and turned back to his bike, pulling the leather along and down and admiring the sheen left in its wake. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re kneeling in the dirt next to a bucket of filthy water.” His footsteps echoed around the garage yard, his shadow blocking out the evening sun for a moment as he passed behind Milos to stand beside him, his pose artfully—artificially, Milos thought with a smile—relaxed. “You do realise you could have it valeted at work, don’t you?”
“Why would I do that? It’s the perfect weather for it so I thought I’d give her the clean she deserves.” He gave the bodywork one last loving stroke and rocked back onto his heels to admire his handiwork, draping his arms over his knees. “She’s my responsibility so I take care of her. Makes me happy.”
“‘She’?” Alex let out a burst of laughter.
“Well, yeah. She’s a machine, so she’s a she.”
“How ironic, you having something female between your legs.” Alex smirked as Milos rose to his feet and shoved the chamois cloth into a back pocket. Before the alfa could react he stepped sideways, wrapping his arms around Milos’s waist, one hand trailing down over the front of his jeans.
His breath caught in his throat. “Really? Here?”
He felt the laugh as much as heard it, a rumble through his chest and hot breath against his ear. “I thought you weren’t an exhibitionist? I mean, we can if you want, but you’ve got a garage right there.”
The laugh wasn’t the only thing he could feel either; honestly, the man could get hard at a moment’s notice. The unusual warmth of the springtime setting sun that had heated his back while he worked was nothing compared to Alex’s body, and neither was as distracting as Alex’s far too tempting hands.
“You know,” Alex lifted one of his hands long enough to push Milos’s ear back and nose against the soft flesh, “you’re technically my responsibility. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
Milos smiled, carefully pushing his backside out and into Alex.
“So let’s get into that garage,” Alex murmured, resting both hands on Milos’s hips and ignoring his soft sound of disappointment, “and we’ll see if cleaning that bike is the only thing that makes you happy.”