Page 10 of Grease & Grips (Friction Fiction #2)

ONE YEAR LATER

“ W ell, the delay definitely ruined my day.”

I hadn’t really been paying attention. Not since they pushed my flight to New York back for the second time, and I’d resigned myself to lukewarm airport coffee and pretending not to exist, but even with a dozen angry voices barking at the gate agent, I catch one voice loud and clear and somehow, I know it like muscle memory, even though I’m pretty sure some part of me stopped believing I’d ever hear it again.

It’s got a direct line to something I buried a long time ago.

I glance up from my phone, and there are two gold-flecked amber eyes I was sure I’d only ever see again in dreams, and just like that, the whole damn airport disappears.

It’s him. Andrés.

“Long time no see,” he says, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth, grinning wide.

Long time no see is right.

It’s been close to six months since either of us said anything on our barely breathing text thread.

It was active for both of us until it wasn’t.

At first he’d tell me about his day on set, and I’d tell him about mine in the shop.

He’d explain the chaos of commercial shoots, and I’d walk him through what a spark plug does.

All the while, I’d wait.

Every damn day, I’d check my phone like it owed me something. Needy as hell for whatever scraps he was willing to toss my way.

I got in the habit of sending him things that reminded me of him. He’d get songs, memes, photos, and dumb little quotes I found at two in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. Stuff that probably didn’t mean much on its own, but it all felt like tiny ways to stay connected.

Which, honestly, was probably too much and too intense for a guy I’d only spent maybe nine hours total with, but he stayed on my mind all the time.

In the middle of a job, halfway through a sandwich, during commercials on a show I wasn’t even really watching.

He’d show up crystal clear and dominating all my thoughts, and every time he did, I’d find myself reaching for my phone like maybe if I sent him something, he’d send a piece of himself back.

I figured it was the same thing that happens to everyone. That one day, he probably thought, “Damn, I really gotta text Mack,” and then he didn’t.

Maybe he meant to reach out the next day, or the day after that, but then one day came when he didn’t think about Sycamore, or that night, or me at all.

It hadn’t escaped me that I could’ve been a means to an end. He was being friendly and wanted his car fixed a little faster or needed a place to crash. Maybe he was horny. Maybe he was bored.

I know a lot of men who’ll bend over for a whole lot less.

So many men in my life have disappeared without a word, but I never could put Andrés in that same category so I chose peace and to be grateful I had that night at all. Because it taught me not everything that ends needs to rot into bitterness.

Some things are meant to be remembered soft.

That softness is what propels me out of my seat and lets me wrap my arms tight around him before I can second-guess it.

I can’t be angry when he’s standing right here. Not that I could anyway.

I spent so long trying to forget what it felt like to be this close to him, and now he’s right here, solid against my chest. It’s hard to believe it’s real, but the weight of him tells me it is.

This is luck. Dumb, stupid luck.

“Didn't think I'd see you again,” I murmur, nose brushing the curve of his jaw.

His arms wrap around me just as tight. “Well, my check engine light came on…”

I bark out a laugh and pull back enough to take him in. Eyes a little tired, hair a little longer, smirk as dangerous as I remember. He looks older or maybe I’m seeing him clearer this time with distance and the light of day.

“Finally getting those tall buildings, eh?” he asks, nodding toward the gate.

“Yeah,” I nod back, a little sheepish. “Gary gave me the week off. Damn near fell out when I asked. Trying to be kinder to myself, you know? See a little more of what’s out there beyond Sycamore.”

“Good for you.”

He slips out of my grip and takes a step back, and my body misses his warmth immediately.

“Where you headed?” I ask, trying to keep it casual.

His eyes light up, playful. “Would you believe me if I said New York?”

“No shit?” My eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah. For work.”

I glance back at the gate, heart doing this weird little stutter. “So we’re…”

He nods, lips twitching. “Yeah. Same flight.”

Can’t help but scratch at the back of my neck. I’ve been inside this man, painted his insides with motor oil, and somehow words escape me.

“So… how’ve you been?” I ask.

He adjusts his duffle strap and shifts his weight. “Busy. Work’s been nuts. We’ve been shooting commercials for this new campaign, like, nonstop.”

“Yeah?” I nod like that means anything to me. “Still traveling a lot then?”

“Too much. But, you know. It’s work.”

The silence is comfortable for half a second, then awkward enough to chew on. I let it hang there, looking at him, letting myself exist in the same space he does.

I clear my throat. “So… airport bathrooms still exist, right?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Flight’s already delayed, I’m feeling nostalgic, and you look like you might still taste the same.”

He stares for a second, mouth fighting a smile. “That’s your pitch?”

“Figured I’d cut to the chase.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not hearing a no.”

He nods, eyes glinting, and walks off without a word. Confidence in every step.

I watch him for a second longer than I should, caught on the way his jacket shifts around his shoulders, the lazy sway in his hips.

Hard not to roll my eyes when I know he’s drawing this out for the effect, but I’m down bad enough to let him.

He’s halfway to the family restroom when he glances back. It’s a quick look back and one sharp eyebrow raise, like a period on a sentence he didn’t say.

I glance around, wipe my jaw, and follow. Heart is damn near beating out of my chest as legs work to catch up with my decision. He slips in before I can reach him, door clicking shut. I pause, breathe, then grab the handle.

The second the door’s open, he’s on me. Mouth crashing into mine and I give back everything he’s giving me cause we’re both hungry for something we thought we lost. I’m sure if we kiss hard enough, it’ll anchor us both back to that night, that version of us that never got a proper ending.

He sears his mouth to mine like he’s trying to leave a mark so that if we go another year without seeing each other, he’ll still carry the shape of me in his memory.

I grasp at the front of his jacket, words tangled against his lips. “You ghosted.”

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip.

“Here I am.”

“Thank God.”

Our shirts come off, pants shoved down, everything in a messy pile on the tile floor.

The second we’re naked, I haul him in tight, skin on skin, his cock pressed firm against mine.

My mouth finds his jaw, and I trail a line of teeth along it, leaving marks along my path.

He shudders every time I nip at him, breath catching at each tug of skin between my teeth.

On a gasp, he mutters, “A bit more confident than last time.”

I grin against his skin, “Yeah, well. You left me thinking about it long enough. Wanna get it right since I’ve got the chance again.”

He lets out a breathy sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and I take it as permission to keep going. My hands move over his sides like I’m relearning what I already know by heart.

“Get a lot of action lately?” he teases.

I pull back and look him in the eye, smirk tugging at my mouth. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The kiss I give him is desperate. Maybe if I press hard enough I can remind him he’s mine again. Can I rewrite the months we spent apart with the way our mouths meet?

I let the ache lead me. Every movement is pulled from somewhere deep, every part of me chasing something I never stopped wanting, and under all of it, there’s this softness I can’t shut off, no matter how hard I try.

“You gonna fuck me or what, Mack?”

His voice hits my lips like a spark to dry brush, and something inside me breaks wide open. I spin him around and press him up against the wall between the sink and the mirror, his breath hitching as his hands brace the tile.

“Lube?” he asks, and I crowd in close to him.

I shake my head as I reach under the soap dispenser and fill my palm.

“We made due once,” I murmur against his ear, smoothing the soap over myself with one hand. “Figure we can do it again.”

He arches his back, ass tilting toward me in invitation. I drag my fingers down the curve of his spine, between his cheeks, until I’m circling his entrance. When I press one finger in, slick and easy, he pushes back with a whimper.

“Needy little bottom,” I growl against his neck.

“Oh, you think you’re in charge now?” he breathes, voice rough and biting with that touch of challenge that undid me last time. “Think you forget yourself, Mack. When I’m with you, I set the pace.”

His eyes, dark and wild, find mine. “So stop stalling and get that thick cock in me.”

A breathless laugh escapes me. “Yes, sir.”

“Condom?” he pants.

“I started PrEP,” I say, fingers still working him open, “and I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

His breath stutters as he swallows hard.

“I got tested before the trip,” he whispers. “I need to feel all of you. Breed me, Mack.”

There’s a body shudder from him when my fingers slip free, but he tenses again as I line myself up. My lips brush his shoulder as the crown of my cock begins to breach his hole. “I’m gonna give you every damn inch.”

I slide in with barely any resistance, his body welcoming me back like it never forgot how I fit. When I bottom out, cock buried to the base and his ass pressed flush against the mess of hair at my groin, I pause letting myself feel the way he clenches around me.

“Fuck… you’re so big,” he says panting.