birdwithoutasong | We light our lamps for atmosphere

Sol liked that he'd been given the keys, and it was tempting for a moment to take the car for a ride, but he wasn't so cruel as to do that to Legault, and he wanted plenty what they were going to have as well.

"Then focus on satisfyin' me," he murmured, fighting the urge to step after Legault and instead unlocking the door, the way that it was expected he would. "I know y'can do that." A compliment of a fairly high order, but Sol wasn't staying still to let Legault bask in it. Instead he was holding the door open and giving the man a shove, expecting him to crawl in first, even if it might be easier if they stripped out here. Until they drew someone's attention, of course.

“I suppose there are worst things I could do with my evening,” he says as he steps closer to the car. Sol might want to undress outside of it, but he effortlessly takes off his shirt and tosses it out of the way into the front seat. It’ll give Sol something nice to look at. “If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be...borrowing cars all night.”

He wastes no time, only resisting the original shove long enough for him to take his shirt off. He climbs into the backseat and turns over so he’s sitting against the window on the opposite side. He extends an arm, ready to pull Sol in.

"Good thing y'have me," Sol says, working on unfastening a couple of belts, at least, before he climbs in after Legault. The simple presence of both of their bodies in the space is enough to have Sol pressing Legault into his current position, but that doesn't keep him from doing it further.

"Y'might want t'make sure yer door is locked." Because it might be funny for Legault to hit the latch and fall out, but it would depend on what it interrupted. And there were certainly things they could be doing that would be better.

A quick check behind him confirmed that his door was unlocked, so he reached awkwardly behind him long enough to flip the door into the locked position. There were so many things to think about now that they were in a car—who knows, this might end up going horribly wrong.

“Ah, right. Thanks for the advice. I wouldn’t put it past you to push the door off somehow.” The door and himself. Whether or not he knew Sol was capable of such a feat mattered little, because it was all a joke to him. He was already having fun, pinned hard (and somewhat uncomfortably) into the seat. He pulled Sol closer and moved his leg against Sol’s crotch in an attempt to stimulate him further. “Yes, what would I do without you?”

Sol could have done it even with the door locked, but now it would take conscious effort of the sort that he wasn't about to apply, not when there were better things to do, not when breaking either Legault or the car didn't seem like a remotely good idea. Instead he could focus on the man's leg against him, on the way they were awkwardly sprawled, close enough that he could feel the other man's heat, that Legault could certainly feel Sol's.

Instead of responding verbally, Sol shifted against Legault, easing up on the pressure for a moment just to press in all the harder, to make sure that Legault was well and truly pinned and could feel every inch of contact, could feel one of Sol's belts digging against him.

Regardless of how much he loves this new position, getting harder and having Sol pressed completely against him, he still winces when he feels both the belt and the seatbelt digging into him. He reaches behind him and, with great effort, manages to push the seat belt's receiving end back into the cushioning. Much better.

And being this close, well, he can't help but laugh. They usually aren't this close, even while they're fucking, but now Sol is right in front of him. Everywhere. There's nowhere he can go except for the other's body.

"You're warm as usual," he purrs before making an attempt to kiss Sol. He doesn't move much, not right now, not when he's lost in the feeling of all that heat over him.

Sol tilts his head into the kiss, finding his way to let his fingers start to work on his own belt before he turns to Legault's clothing. More so without clothing separating them, he could promise, but instead he curls his tongue to make his way into the other man's mouth, and he focuses his hands on touching and making a way for there to be more skin to touch.

At least clothes are easily enough taken care of, even in the confines of the car, because taking them off is a pleasure, and it lets him focus on the keenness of wanting, on using the car to leverage himself against Legault all the better.

There's an intimacy to this that's somehow more than the usual.

The intimacy is so different—having never done this before, and only deciding to do so on a whim, even he’s surprised by it. He takes care of a few pieces of clothes without help from Sol, namely his shoes and socks, and he uses his foot to push them so they fall off the seat where they’ll be out of the way. He’s also careful not to press his feet against the window; the last thing they need is footprints there.

It’s a bit more difficult to get his pants off thanks to the very heavy weight on top of him, but he’s willing to work with Sol’s body to get as much of their clothes off as they can. There’s cooperation involved—a belt Sol can’t reach, something Legault can’t quite push off without Sol letting him lean forward. It’s fun, and it gives his hands plenty of excuses to wander.

They're both tangled up together -- hands and legs twisting past each other, working together sometimes and sometimes at odds, although not deliberately so -- and still far too separate -- any layers at all of clothing that are left are too many, and there's not enough skin touching skin. Sol is trying his best to resolve both at once, to work at Legault's and his clothing until they're not such a mixed-up mess, until the clothes are out of the picture entirely.

He shifts himself, holding up his own weight propped off of one arm on the seat for a moment as he works on his own pants with the other hand, but this eyes are fixed on Legault the whole time, admiring the sight that he makes and the fact that they have to stay this close.

Their clothes would be so much easier to take off if one of them didn’t wear so many belts. The drive to take off their clothes is one shared by Legault, but he can’t say that he doesn’t like the struggle, either. Sure, he’s eager to shove those clothes to the side and feel Sol’s warmth against his exposed chest, but their bodies writhing against each other as they do? He won’t complain about that.

His own eyes don’t stray as he lends a helping hand to Sol’s pants. He knows the other’s body and wardrobe well enough by now to do this without looking, it’s just that his hands take a detour, groping him firmly through the fabric before assisting. He doesn’t say anything when he does, he just grins helplessly like he’s a fool who can’t help himself.

Ah, but if Sol ever needs to tie someone up, at least he's got the sufficient tools on hand for that. Not that the belts serve much of a purpose beyond that -- and not a purpose he uses often in that way, and even less often in a kinky way, more's the pity. But Sol won't hold that grope against Legault if the man doesn't hold Sol's clothing against him.

Sol maintains that he's the expert in taking off his own clothing, that it's not nearly so much of a hassle as some others seem to think, but right now he finds being the expert less comforting than it usually is. Still, he's happy to make up for the gaps, and to focus on Legault's own, on being able to do this sort of squirming and mindless moving with their bodies naked against each other.

There’s never been any doubt in Legault’s mind that those belts could be useful one day. He’s likely mentioned it more than once, and at least once at a completely inappropriate time, such as while they’re seated at a table before they head out to have sex. Right where someone can overhear him if he speaks just a little louder. He’ll convince him to use them one of these days.

They haven’t even started proper yet, and he’s already sweating from just the heat and the friction combined. He doesn’t speak much—only to say “a little to your left” or to give a short instruction so that they can finish faster, but once they’re both almost naked he figures Sol can figure it out and he can kick his own pants off. The car will be rocking soon, so he’d much rather focus on feeling Sol up while he still can, almost trying to distract him while he finishes by tracing his own long fingers over Sol’s nipples.

Right now is hardly the appropriate -- or perhaps more importantly the easiest -- time for Sol to consider using those belts or doing anything other than taking them off but it seems like the simple animal act of what they will be doing will be sufficient to engage everything that either one of them might usually use to think anyway.

Sol's fingers touch Legault's cock, firm for while the touch lasts, before he's focusing on the other part of this preparation, what he's assuming will rapidly become more important. "Am I usin' anything?" he asks, with the expectation that Legault will very shortly be providing lube or lotion if that's what he wants himself prepared with. He's not feeling a hundred percent distracted at the moment.

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.

Sol is more than willing to open up Legault for his cock -- despite the general inefficiency of it, since once he gets into a certain mood with Legault that seems to matter less to him, because there's so much else that's also important -- but he picks up the container after the other man lets it go. He spreads the lubricant first on his fingers and then on his cock, eyes watching Legault while he does so, but almost trying to pretend that he's not looking as closely as he is, or with so much arousal (almost impatience).

Sol's tempted to go after one of the beers, but it's probably better to save them to share after they're done with the sex part, will be a good excuse to linger in the sort of pleasure that he's drawing rapidly nearer to, the more time Legault has to make himself ready.

The grin that crosses Legault’s face as he realizes Sol is watching him is as shit-eating as ever. He knows he’s putting on a good show; the impatience the other is practically radiating is even more delicious, so he slows down just a little, a small pant or a sharp intake of breath occasionally coming from him as he stretches himself. Of course, the sight of Sol slicking himself up is just as delicious. He’s never had the opportunity to watch Sol touch himself, and he wonders if he can get him to do that later.

And for the beers, well, that just shows how much he cares. He’s a nice guy, really, stealing cars and buying beers for them. It isn’t much longer before Legault is wiping his hand on the roof of the car and props himself up a bit more. He winces as he makes himself comfortable against the car door behind him, but he thinks he’s got this.

“You done yet? I know you’ve got a lot of, ah, skin to cover with that, but I’d rather feel you than watch you.”

Tonight. He’ll gladly watch another night.

"'m ready." Sol hasn't been sloppy with the preparation, knows better than that, but thoroughness doesn't have to take too long, and watching Legault has only made him more eager to be inside of the other man. Sol twists his hand around his dick as a way to try to hold on a little, before he can shift to line himself up, moving as soon as Legault seems settled in where he's at. They'll undoubtedly fix in on a better position as soon as he starts to move, anyway.

Not that he's going to be moving quite yet, given that he knows he has to sink in slowly, give them both time to adjust to the closeness and the way that Legault's body needs to yield to Sol's. It's a good thing that that part is enjoyable as well, particularly since from this position Sol can -- and will -- watch Legault's face, ready to see that eagerness flit over him.

For all that Sol is quiet, that that's generally his way, he doesn't ask for or even really want the same from Legault, at least not once they actually get into the real reasons for them to meet up.

As much as Legault acts like someone who’s been around the block a few times, this is still something new to him. It’s a little silly, maybe—as much fun as being fucked into the car is going to be for him, it’s almost like he’s trying to impress Sol with this idea. It’s a bit more...masculine than his normal ideas. Cars. Beer. Grand theft auto. ...Well, he’s still conveniently leaving that last part out.

He almost wishes he’d turned the car on, but there’s something appealing about just the raw heat of their bodies trapped in this small space, too. There won’t be anything in their worlds except each other, and he’s already feeling that. He can feel Sol slowly pressing himself inside, can’t see anything past him, certainly can’t smell anything than their scents and that of the lube.

It’s the slowness that makes him tilt his head back and attempt to stifle a moan. He’s used to him moving a bit faster than this. He can already tell this is a great idea.

Sol will pick up the speed once he gets into it, that much is a guarantee, but he's not really in a hurry to get to that point, as rewarding as his satisfaction will be in the end.

After all, Legault has gone to rather a lot of effort in order to set up this scenario -- even if Sol were to take into account the fact that the car is in fact stolen -- and it's a good one. Sol might not go to any particular effort to do the manly thing, but that's in large part because the grunting, the lack of wanting to talk about feelings, the preference for beer and power, that all came perfectly naturally for him.

(But no matter the rest of this, even if Sol would never admit it, the thing about this situation that attracts him to it is Legault himself, the atmosphere just something for him to indulge in as he feels himself fully surrounded by Legault's body, as he relaxes in that fact and lets it be enough, for just a moment longer.)

His hands quickly find a place on Sol’s shoulders, legs finding a footrest on the other side of Sol. If he lets Sol fuck him without a good grip, he’s pretty sure he’ll end up getting a concussion on the car door. That’s exciting, though. Everything is a little uncomfortable, but this is also just about as cramped as he could get with another body.

He’ll have to be creative more often, he thinks, especially if Sol is going to be this receptive in the future.

The slowness is an appreciated change, and it allows him to appreciate this a little more. But it also leaves him focused enough that he can still talk, and that’s always a bad idea. "You ever done this before?"

"Y'know I have," Sol says, because of course he's never fucked Legault in a car, but he has fucked Legault. And Sol's plenty private when it comes to his past sex life. There might not be too much of it, but what there has been is between himself and his memories, not anything else.

And he'd rather they not take up too room in his memories, even.

Still, despite the gruff response, the air of 'don't touch that' that he exudes a moment, his body's reaction doesn't change, and Sol focuses on the fact that he's all the way into Legault now, so he's going to pull back and then press back in, a little harder and a little faster.

He loves to talk and to tease, but the reaction from Sol is more than enough to get him to shut up. He can take a hint. It's a rare talent, being so gifted (annoying) when it comes to talking, but he refuses to ever let that get in the way of a good fuck. Besides, some people actually find him charming. That he has Sol in bed (repeatedly) must be a miracle of some sort.

So he says nothing. Well, he doesn't say another word, but his mouth opens for a gasp, a sharp intake of air following as Sol pressed in all the way steals his breath yet again. It's all he can do to make this just as enjoyable for his friend, so he pushes back to meet those thrusts, his nails digging in just a little—not enough to leave a mark, just so he can hold himself steady.

Sol's not the sort of person to think of Legault as charming, certainly not the sort of person to find himself charmed, but that's alright because that hasn't ever been what he's looking for, isn't even really something that Sol is open to. Fucking is an animal act as much as a human one, and Sol might want to engage in lust but he doesn't want to dress it up as anything else.

Not when lust and gruff affection by themselves feel so good.

And that gasp is worth more than any sweet or cajoling words, and Sol's encouraged enough by them that he's drawing back, trying to make his next thrust just as rapid, to bury himself into Legault just as deeply.

He is well aware of the fact that if he ever sweeps Sol off his feet it will be because he’s been sweeping carelessly. Some people like to be charmed. Sometimes, he’s one of them. But there’s more than some appeal to doing things differently, doing things like they’re animals instead of people. While a jacked car and booze might be flattering, they’re not mean to charm Sol. They’re just nice things to go along with an even better activity.

The car is already rocking. It’s going to be impossible to hide. Legault is cunning enough that he knows he can get Sol off in a car without making it move much, but having Sol do the fucking means this car is going to move. And he can feel it as Sol thrusts into him again. He doesn’t gasp that time, but he does swear under his breath and pant and push back against Sol, anything to encourage him to keep going.

We light our lamps for atmosphere

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