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The rain was coming down pretty hard outside the garage and the radio had stopped playing music and started playing the weather forecast, and the announcer was saying the rain was to continue for the rest of the day, but he had his hands on Mirage’s neck and his tongue in Mirage’s mouth so it wasn’t like he was planning on going anywhere.
One of the downsides of Mirage being so goddamn huge was his tongue was too big for them to actually French kiss. The whole experience of kissing him was pretty weird, cause his mouth didn’t really get – wet – and he tasted like metal, with an edge of something like gasoline when he got excited. Right now he was getting pretty excited, judging by the purring rev of engines sounding from within his chest.
Breaking the kiss, Mirage dropped his head to nuzzle at Noah’s chest.
He was sprawled out on the couch in his underwear, Mirage kneeling on the floor between his legs. Noah stroked the back of Mirage’s head. “You’re like a big pussycat, you know that?”
“Mm. Is that good?” said Mirage.
“It’s cute.”
Dipping lower, Mirage let out a “Mrraoww,” into his stomach, his very best kitty impression, and Noah laughed.
“Dumbass,” he said.
“Uh-huh.” Rucking up his shirt, Mirage pressed a kiss to his stomach. He shivered. “Damn, you’re so fuzzy,” he said, admiring his happy trail. “You gonna keep on getting hairier?”
“That’s the plan,” said Noah.
Mirage muffled another of those purring moans of excitement into his tummy, the vibration setting his insides squirming. Hair was one of those things that was a source of endless fascination to Mirage. Where Noah had it, where he didn’t have it – where it was soft and where it was coarse – where it was growing in cause of the hormones.
Honestly, it was a fair reaction, coming from a planet that didn’t have hair. Noah was into it.
“Mmm.” Very gently, Mirage’s hand slipped behind his thigh and angled it out to mouth at the soft skin there. His kisses were getting harder – he could get a little forceful with his mouth. A couple of times he’d left marks. One of these days they were gonna slip up and Noah was gonna come away with the mother of all hickeys somewhere people could see.
Mirage’s mouth had reached the hem of his boxers, where he paused. “You ever gonna let me see what’s under here?”
“Maybe,” said Noah, relaxing back against the arm of the couch. “If you’re a really good boy.”
“I’m good!” Mirage nuzzled his thigh with renewed enthusiasm. “I’ll be so good for you – you know I will – I’m going crazy here,” he whined. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”
“Maybe I wanna drive you crazy,” said Noah, running his hand again over Mirage’s head.
“You’re doing a great job,” said Mirage, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee. “I don’t wanna pressure you,” he said. “I don’t. I just – want the whole Noah package, you know?”
“Yeah – I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face, watching as Mirage mouthed at his thigh. Okay, he told himself. Okay. “Up,” he said, nudging Mirage’s face away from his leg. “Hey – off.”
“Aw, what?” Mirage whined. “I wasn’t –”
As Noah slipped his thumbs under the hem of his boxers and began to wriggle out of them, he shut up.
After a second, he said, “You don’t have to –”
“It’s cool,” said Noah. “I want to.” He worked his underwear all the way off and kicked it to the floor by the couch. “There ya go, bud.”
Mirage’s eyes tracked from his face – to his chest – down to – “Huh.” He rested a hand on Noah’s stomach, fingers just brushing his pubic hair. “You got hair here too?”
“Well, yeah?” Then it clicked. “You’ve only seen naked humans in porn, huh?”
“Aw, did the pornos lie to me again?” Mirage stroked a fingertip across his pubes, investigating the new texture.
“I keep telling you, dude, they lie about so much stuff,” Noah reminded him.
“Figures,” said Mirage. Then he ducked his head, to take in what Noah was packing between his legs.
An uneasy lurch went through his insides. It wasn’t like no-one had ever seen him naked before – hell, he’d been naked around people since coming out. But there was something about Mirage’s utterly rapt attention to his body that had him self-conscious. And things were going so good, he didn’t wanna mess up what they had.
It was dumb. This wasn’t gonna mess things up. Mirage didn’t give a damn; Mirage was still kinda shaky on how the whole human gender thing worked. He did not care.
“Ohh,” Mirage said. “Okay. Cool.” He dragged his gaze up to meet Noah’s eyes. “Can I touch you?”
“Uh, real carefully.” He opened his legs a little wider. “I’m delicate, okay?”
“Sure,” said Mirage. “I can be careful.”
He squeezed Noah’s thigh; and then the tip of his finger ran down between his legs, spreading him open, and Noah’s whole body tensed.
“Ah, shit,” he muttered, insides squirming, skin prickling as goosebumps raced down his arms.
The metal of Mirage’s finger was cold, against his skin – for a second the feeling was kinda like having a knife pressed between his legs. He trusted Mirage fine but sometimes when they were fooling around something would go off in some deep part of his lizard hindbrain and his body would go danger, you’re in danger and the resulting rush of adrenaline when he was already pretty turned on was liable to make him dizzy.
“You okay?” said Mirage. “Did I hurt you?”
He hadn’t explained the whole lizard hindbrain adrenaline rush thing to Mirage; he wasn’t sure you scare the shit out of me sometimes but it turns me on so it’s cool was gonna go over well.
“You’re good.” Reaching down he grabbed Mirage’s finger, stilling it. “It didn’t hurt or nothing, it’s just, uh –” He tried to think how to explain and drew a blank. “I’m okay,” he settled for.
“Cool.” Mirage’s finger slipped from his grip. “Hey, can I go down on you?”
His stomach turned over. The stupid casual way Mirage had asked – like he wasn’t asking – fuck. “Sure,” he managed.
“Great!” said Mirage; and then he dove straight in.
“Holy shit.” It knocked the breath out of him and his back arched right off the couch.
Things had gotten – real sensitive down there since starting hormones – and what Mirage lacked in finesse he was making up for through sheer enthusiasm – and having a real big mouth. “Mirage,” he choked out. “Ah – Christ.”
His hand scrabbled at the back of Mirage’s head, but there was nothing to cling onto down there. He grabbed at the couch cushions instead and hooked his leg up over Mirage’s shoulder, bracing a foot against one of his tires. In response Mirage’s engine made that purring noise of enjoyment, the vibration rushing through him and turning his insides to liquid.
“Fuck – Christ.” He threw an arm over his face. “Do that again.” Mirage purred into him a second time and he thought shit, this is gonna wreck me.
Then Mirage’s hand slid under his ass, angling him up for better access, and his guts swooped with the giddy rush of being manhandled.
He hadn’t fessed up to Mirage yet just how much it turned him on. A couple of weeks ago Mirage had jokingly held him down while they were fooling around; he’d planted a hand on Noah’s chest and said stay and he hadn’t even been trying. There’d been no force behind the gesture, just pure steel-hard strength, and the realisation that he probably couldn’t free himself even if he wanted to almost had him creaming his pants right there.
If Mirage found out what shit like this did to him, he’d be goddamn insufferable.
He pressed his foot hard against Mirage’s tire. Somewhere outside, thunder rolled.
Letting out a long unsteady breath, he kicked at Mirage’s head. “Off,” he said. “Off – okay."
“You done?” said Mirage, surfacing. “I’m still not sure how to tell.”
“I’m done.” He breathed in, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re good, man, I’m done.”
Mirage’s hand ran down his calf. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted weakly.
“You sure?” said Mirage. “You’re, uh, shaking pretty hard.”
Shit. His thighs were shaking. “S’okay,” he said. “It’s – good shakes.”
“Good shakes?” Mirage echoed. “What’s that mean?”
He breathed out, and fessed up. “It means you made me come really hard.”
“That so, huh?” Mirage’s hand very gently gripped his arm, easing it away from his face. By degrees, those glowing blue eyes were revealed. A smirk.
“Ugh.” Noah smacked his head back against the couch. “Quit giving me that look.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” said Mirage. “I mean, I’m amazing, but you already knew that.”
“Shut up,” said Noah.
“Man, I don’t even know if I was bringing my A-game – you sure you’re okay, bro?”
“I’m good,” he said. “I just – I never done that before, okay?”
“Huh?” said Mirage. “Done what?” Then it must’ve clicked what Noah meant, cause he said, “Wait, for real? No-one’s ever done that for ya?”
“I don’t know, man,” he said. It wasn’t the kind of thing his high school boyfriends used to do. Lately he usually topped. “It’s just – never come up.”
“Damn,” said Mirage; then he said, “Hey, can I make you come again?”
He stared up at Mirage. It was – a little difficult to read his face sometimes, but he was rarely anything but earnest. “Yeah, uh,” he said. “Gimme a sec to catch my breath, okay?”
Maybe a quarter of an hour later found him scrabbling at the couch cushion beneath himself, Mirage’s head squeezed between his thighs, biting out curses through gritted teeth. “Shit – shit – Jesus Christ, Mirage –”
He managed to get a good grip on the arm of the couch and clung on, relishing the strain in his muscles. The warm metal of Mirage’s head was hard and unyielding against his thighs and he was pretty sure he was gonna have grooves cut into his legs after this. Mirage’s fans were running hard, a steady hum low down in his chest that he could feel buzzing through the couch.
Looking down at Mirage, half-sprawled across the floor of the garage, he had one of those dizzy moments where he wondered how in the hell life had brought him to this point. Getting ate out by an honest to god extraterrestrial. Jesus.
It took him longer to finish that second time – he was starting to feel kinda raw – “Fuck,” he said, slumping down against the couch, loose and boneless.
Reading the signals better this time, Mirage raised his head. “Wow, you get real wet, huh?” he said. “You like that?”
“Yeah,” said Noah, weakly.
“Good.” The couch creaked; and Mirage nuzzled at his face in search of kisses.
“Hey – no.” Batting him away, Noah sat up and grabbed for the towel he’d left on the back of the couch. “Clean yourself up.”
“Aw, c’mon, it’s your fluids,” said Mirage, but he took the towel. “There,” he said, wiping his face. “So, do I get a kiss now?”
“C’mere.” Grabbing his face, Noah tugged him down and stuck his tongue back in his mouth. Mirage let out a surprised buzzing hum and kissed back with enthusiasm.
When they were done, there was a rush of air from Mirage’s vents that was warm against his skin; and shifting Mirage pressed a last kiss to Noah’s belly and settled down with his head on his thigh.
Mirage was usually gentle – he had a way of handling Noah’s body like it was made of porcelain – if anything he could stand to be a little rougher, sometimes – but he had a bad habit of trying to put his big stupid head in Noah’s lap and Noah kept having to remind him how much it weighed.
He hissed aloud. “No,” he said. “Move over, bud.”
“Aww,” said Mirage, but he moved his head onto the couch cushion. He knelt there, his head between Noah’s spread legs, looking up at him with what was, even on his metal face, a pretty unmistakeable set of big ol’ puppy dog eyes.
He ran a hand over Mirage’s head. “So, uh,” he said. “Do you want me to –”
“Nah, man,” said Mirage. “You’re good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” said Mirage. “That was nice. Thank you.”
He snorted. “You’re kinda weird, you know that?”
“You love it,” said Mirage.
Hand tracing down Mirage’s cheek, he said, “Yeah. Yeah.”
Outside, the rain continued.