There has never been a time where they’ve had sex where Legault’s forgotten the lubricant. Ignoring how painful fucking would be without it (for both of them), Sol still isn’t someone he wants inside of him without plenty of it. There’s a rare grunt that serves as an answer, and he leans away from Sol so he can fish around the seat in front of him for something. He’s not entirely focused, so it takes him a few tries before there’s the sound of his hand hitting paper and him pulling the bag back.

“Just...hold on,” he mutters as he dumps the bag out, catching the lubricant before it hits the floor of the car. There’s other items in the bag—two cans of cheap beer and condoms. Sol is welcome to use them if he likes, but they’re provided as more of a courtesy. “Lean back,” he spits out before spreading his legs as much as he can. Given the awkward angle, he chooses to apply the lubricant to his own fingers and stretch himself instead of letting Sol do it. It’s not something he’s ever done in front of this man, but this is more efficient. Sol can lube himself up in the meantime.