"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"You know you want to..."

"Of course I want to, I'm a teenage boy, I always want—ngh...no...stop..."

"Come on. He said he'd be gone an hour and a half. That's plenty of time..."

"Nghhh, fine." With a growl, he spun in his boyfriend's arms, detaching the other boy's lips from the bruise they'd been sucking into his neck. "But you're cleaning the upholstery."

Kurt grinned. "After I finish the oil change." He grabbed Blaine by the collar of his polo and yanked him into a dirty kiss. He dragged him away from the open hood of the Toyota he'd been working on, wrenched the back door open, and unceremoniously shoved the younger boy inside.

"God, you're so lucky you're irresistible in those overalls," Blaine groaned as Kurt went back to work on the ridiculously large hickey he'd be sporting for at least a week. Kurt's hands, however, were fumbling desperately with the button of Blaine's too-short jeans, tugging the pants down fiercely when he succeeded in opening the fastening. His boxers were gone moments later, and Kurt's heated mouth abandoned Blaine's neck to wrap around his fully-erect cock. "Jesus Chr—" Blaine choked, head flying backward in ecstasy.

Kurt winked up at his wrecked boyfriend in satisfaction. It wasn't often Kurt was so...aggressive with his desires, but when he was, Blaine was often left in shambles. Kurt continued to work up and down Blaine's length, licking and sucking and blowing in the ways that elicited the most perfect noises from the writhing boy below. After some time of teasing torture, Kurt pulled off of Blaine's dick, allowing the babbling boy a short respite as he quickly discarded his overalls and undershirt, kicking off both his and Blaine's shoes. At the same time, Blaine wriggled out of his polo, movement restricted by the cramped quarters. He tossed the garment somewhere toward the front of the vehicle just as Kurt descended upon him once more, lavishing his newly-exposed torso with kisses and hickeys.

"Need...you..." Blaine panted wantonly. "God, Kurt...need you..."

"Who am I to deny you?" Kurt breathed hotly in his ear. The older boy reached down and pulled his overalls off the floor of the car. He extracted a tiny bottle and a foil packet from the pocket and dropped the denim, turning back to smirk at his lust-dazed boyfriend. "How hard?"

With an impatient groan, Blaine whipped a hand out, twisted it in Kurt's hair, and pulled him down for a tooth-filled kiss. "As hard as you can."

Kurt slicked up four fingers and thrust two into Blaine, carefully watching the way Blaine's back bowed off of the seat for any signs of distress. But he knew those moans, and they only meant pleasure. A minute later, Kurt added the other two fingers, and Blaine keened at the intrusion.

"Ready, baby?" Blaine nodded frantically, so Kurt quickly rolled on the condom and lubed up. Without another word, he slammed into Blaine, stopping only when his hips met his boyfriend's.

Blaine's mind exploded with pleasure, his legs automatically winding around Kurt's waist. As Kurt began to pound into him mercilessly, he completely fell apart. His eyes rolled back into his head, his nails dug tracts down Kurt's flawless back, his head fell to the side to give Kurt space to bite down through his own waves of lust. Some deep, quiet part of his mind knew he'd have marks for ages, but that hardly mattered when the tip of Kurt's cock was slamming into his prostate with every thrust and Kurt's teeth were grazing down his earlobe and Kurt's mouth was whispering into his skin, "Come for me, baby," and oh god it was too much. His throbbing cock, untouched by anything other than his and Kurt's stomachs during the brutal fucking, erupted, thick ropes of come flinging all the way to Blaine's neck and covering both of their torsos. The combination of Blaine's expression of pure ecstasy and Blaine's muscles clenching around his very stimulated cock led Kurt to tumble over the edge mere moments later.

Panting heavily, the two boys fell together, Kurt's head tucking into Blaine's neck and Blaine's arms wrapping around Kurt's back. They were covered in sweat and come and saliva and they had to get up, to get dressed, to get back to the real world but they felt so nice against each other and their eyelids were drooping and the real world could just fucking wait as they slipped into a world of unconsciousness.

"Burt?" His eye creaked open at the echoing shout. "Burt, man, you back yet? Kurt?"

All at once, reality crashed over him violently. He jerked upward, yelping at the double pain of hitting his head on the roof and ripping his dried-come-glued chest from Blaine's. The latter woke the younger boy sharply. "What the—?" Kurt slapped a hand over Blaine's mouth, shooting him a warning glare. He silently donned his undershirt and overalls, wincing at the dried come on his skin. "Get dressed," he hissed. "Jake is back."

Jake Windham was one of the mechanics at Hummel Tire & Lube. He'd been working for Burt the longest, and knew Kurt since the boy's diaper days. Kurt thought of Jake as an uncle, which was one of the many reasons he did not want the older man to catch him naked in a car with his boyfriend.

Blaine scrambled into his boxers and jeans as Kurt slid into his work boots. "Where is my shirt?" Blaine whispered frantically.

"I don't know, find it!" Kurt stood to walk around the front of the car. It wasn't until he stepped forward that he realized he was still wearing a come-filled condom—and it was as uncomfortable as hell.

Just as Jake, a dark-haired man in his late thirties, rounded the corner, Blaine appeared at Kurt's side, barely pulling his polo over his head. In all honesty, Kurt knew they were never going to get away with it; their clothes were hopeless wrinkled, their hair was thoroughly tousled, Blaine's neck was littered with hickeys, their lips were kiss-swollen, Kurt could barely move, and Blaine's limp was noticeable.

They looked utterly debauched.

And Jake noticed.

"Hey Kurt, hey Blai—whoa." He froze a few feet from the Toyota, expression morphing from greeting to surprise to confusion to knowing. "And what have you boys been up to this afternoon in an empty garage of backseats?"

A thousand lies popped into Kurt's head, each less plausible than the last. With a groan, his head crashed forward, slamming against the hood of the car. "Please don't tell my dad."

Jake smirked at Blaine's terror-stricken face. "Relax, guys. You think the rest of us haven't scored a little nookie in this place over the years? Of course we have, even your d—"

"WHOA!" Kurt yelled , slapping hands over his ears. "Way too much sharing. Look, we got...a little carried away—" Blaine snorted, Kurt shot him a glare. "—and we'll clean up, I promise. Just...please don't tell my dad."

"Well, you might want to go and clean up, 'cause he'll be back in about twenty minutes." When the boys panicked, he bit back a laugh and continued. "Just go use the shower in the back. I'll take care of Miss Stabler's oil change. But the interior? That's all yours."

Kurt didn't think it was possible to blush so hard. "Thank you, Jake. I owe you so much."

As Kurt and Blaine hobbled off achingly, Jake called out, "Oh boys?" They stopped and turned. "You might want to take separate showers. Just in case."

Jake had a feeling he wouldn't get those mortified blushes out of his mind for a long time.