Blake Hart
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The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 15
🕑 Added 2024-12-07 13:19:26 +0000 UTCEveryone in this story is 18+
Minor Adjustments
The night air was cool as we walked down the dimly lit street, the faint hum of music and laughter spilling out from the bars ahead. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, while Connor, of course, didn’t seem fazed at all. His face glowed under the streetlights, his easy smile making it clear he was loving every second of this.
“Your mom doesn’t mind you’re out drinking?” Connor asked with a teasing grin, glancing over at me.
“Yeah, as long as I check in every now and then, she’s cool with it,” I said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m 18—she can’t do much about it. But you’ve got your fake ID, right?”
Connor laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I do. Mom’s kind of the same way, but Dad? He doesn’t really want me drinking until I’m 21.”
“Okay.” My stomach twisted slightly at the mention of Joe as we reached the bar. The neon sign above flickered, casting an electric glow over the brick facade.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and buzzing. The sound of clinking glasses and low chatter filled the space as we found a booth near the back. Connor slid in first, his leg brushing against mine as I followed.
The first round went down easy—a couple of beers that Connor insisted we “cheers” to. He even chugged another beer in one go.
“What? You don’t think I can drink beer?” he teased.
“No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised,” I smirked.
“Yeah, I’m just like Rose in Titanic when she’s down in third class,” he said, grinning.
“You’re seriously comparing yourself to Rose in Titanic? What does that make me, Jack?” I shot back.
“Wait—I thought you hadn’t seen it?” he asked, his eyebrow arching.
“Uh, no. I mean, everyone knows they’re called that,” I lied, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, sure, tough guy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We can watch it at home if you ever want to visit. It’s my mom’s favorite movie.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I shrugged, avoiding his gaze as I took another sip of my beer.
The conversation continued to flow effortlessly, like it always did with him. We laughed about random stuff: the ridiculous show we’d half-watched earlier, the awkward way I’d introduced him to my mom, even his ballet recital prep. Everything felt light and easy, like the world had taken a break just for us.
By the third drink, Connor’s cheeks were flushed, his laughter softer but more frequent. He leaned in closer as we talked, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or just him, but a familiar warmth pooled low in my stomach.
“You’re staring,” Connor said suddenly, smirking as he took another sip of his beer.
“Am not,” I muttered, looking away quickly.
“Are too,” he teased, his foot nudging mine under the table. “But it’s okay. I’d stare at me too.”
“God, you’re so full of yourself,” I said, shaking my head, but I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
Connor leaned closer, his voice dipping lower. “You like it.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. My heart was racing, my face hot, and when his hand brushed against mine on the table, I didn’t pull away.
The air between us shifted, charged now in a way that was impossible to ignore. His knee pressed against mine, his eyes locked onto mine, and I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of everything about him—his scent, his closeness, the way his lips curled when he smiled.
“Bathroom?” he said quietly, his meaning clear.
I nodded, my breath catching, and we slid out of the booth together, weaving through the crowd toward the back of the bar.
Once we were in the single-stall bathroom, the door locked behind us, Connor turned to me with that same teasing grin. “You’re so easy to read, especially when you’re horny. You know that?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, though I couldn’t hide the grin tugging at my lips.
Before I could say anything else, Connor closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine. My hands found his waist, pulling him closer, and he pressed into me, his hips grinding against mine.
I let out a soft groan, my head tilting back as Connor’s hands slid up under my shirt. His touch was light but deliberate, his fingers grazing my skin in ways that sent heat spiraling through me. His body fit against mine perfectly, the friction between us igniting sparks with every movement.
“God, you’re so hard already,” Connor murmured against my ear, his breath hot.
“Yes, it’s your fault,” I said, leaning in to kiss him again, his lips impossibly soft and addictive.
His hand slipped down, unzipping me with practiced ease as a low sound escaped my throat. “Yes, just like that,” I breathed. His fingers wrapped around me, my cock throbbing in his grasp.
Not to be outdone, I reached for him, unzipping his jeans with a growing sense of confidence. I grabbed his dick, feeling its warmth in my hand. I’d quickly grown used to this—dick instead of pussy—and to my surprise, I wasn’t just okay with it. I liked it. A lot.
We revealed each other’s heads, the sensitive skin slick and glistening, and without missing a beat, he pressed against me, our cocks rubbing together. He had to stand on his toes to align with me, but his ballet training made it look effortless. The sensation was intense, every movement sending waves of pleasure through both of us as we found a rhythm, bodies moving in perfect sync.
Our sensitive cock heads felt so hot against each other, the friction igniting a new kind of heat. Connor’s soft, breathy sounds spurred me on as I started pumping them together, alternating with rubbing them against each other. Our pre-cum slicked every movement, coating both of us in a warm, slippery mess that only made it more intense.
Then, suddenly, a sharp knock on the bathroom door broke through the haze. We both froze, our breathing ragged as reality tried to force its way in.
I almost pulled back, my heart racing, but Connor leaned in, his teeth grazing my lip in a gentle, teasing bite. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice low and full of need. “Don’t hold back now. Just let go.”
And I did. I let go.
The tension in me snapped, and I felt the surge take over. I groaned as I started cumming, aiming for his dick as the hot spurts coated him, each wave more powerful than the last. My whole body trembled, every nerve firing at once as I hit the peak.
As I came down, my breath still uneven, Connor didn’t waste a second. He used my cum as lube, his hand slick as he moved against me, his lips crashing into mine with renewed urgency. His body tensed, a quiet, broken sound escaping him as he jolted forward, his own cum spilling across my dick in thick, hot streaks.
“Fucking shit,” I muttered, still catching my breath.
“Sometimes cumming fast is a plus,” Connor teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“Hey,” I managed between gasps, my hands gripping his hips as he pressed closer to me. “You weren’t far behind me.”
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice thick with amusement. “But at least I don’t make it obvious.”
“Keep talking, Conn,” I shot back, my voice low and challenging. “We’ll see who lasts longer next time.”
His only response was another kiss, deep and breathless, leaving me lightheaded as our bodies stayed pressed together. When he finally pulled back, a teasing smile on his lips, he whispered, “We need to clean up.”
Connor laughed softly as he grabbed some tissues, his movements unhurried as he cleaned up our sticky, messy dicks. The intimacy of it—his gentle, deliberate touches—made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
The knock came again, louder this time, and we scrambled to clean up, fumbling with tissues amid awkward laughs. By the time we unlocked the door, Connor’s cheeks were still flushed, his dimples on full display as he tried to keep a straight face.
“God, the smell in there,” he said, shaking his head. “Think anyone’s actually gonna go in tonight?”
I glanced down at our pants, the faint stains barely visible under the dim light, though I was hyperaware of them. “Yeah, I mean... probably,” I said, grinning.
The line outside the bathroom wasn’t long, but it was enough to make both of us hesitate. A guy near the front raised an eyebrow, his expression making it painfully clear he’d guessed what had happened. Another stifled a laugh, leaning over to whisper something to his friend.
Connor strolled past them without so much as a glance, his confidence intact. I, on the other hand, could feel my face burning as I followed behind him.
“Smooth,” I muttered under my breath.
Connor grinned, completely unbothered. “What? It’s a bar. People do worse things in bathrooms here.”
We stepped out into the cool night air, the sharp contrast hitting our heated skin like a wake-up call. Connor leaned into me, laughing softly, his body brushing against mine as we stumbled slightly on the uneven sidewalk.
“Well, look who it is,” someone sneered.
The laughter died instantly as we turned toward the sound. Two guys were crossing the street toward us, their steps quick and deliberate. My stomach dropped when I recognized them—two of the jocks from Connor’s school.
“Out on a date, are we?” the taller one spat, his tone dripping with malice. “Fucking faggots.”
Connor stiffened beside me, his earlier ease gone in an instant. I could feel the tension rolling off him, but before I could say anything, the shorter guy stepped forward, his hand balling into a fist.
“Come on, leave it alone,” I said, keeping my voice firm but even. My pulse was hammering, but I didn’t let it show.
The taller one smirked, his gaze flicking between us. “What are you gonna do about it? You think you’re tough?”
“Yeah, you think you can take us?” the shorter one added, his voice mocking as he swung at me.
I ducked instinctively, his punch sailing past me, and before I could think, my fist shot out, connecting with his jaw. He stumbled back, clutching his face in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.
The taller guy stepped forward, grabbing my jacket, but before he could do more, the distant sound of sirens cut through the air. All of us froze for a moment, the tension electric.
“This isn’t over,” the taller one growled, glaring at me as he pulled his friend away. “You’ll see.”
They disappeared down the street, their curses fading into the night. I stood there, my breath coming hard and fast, my fists still clenched.
“Are you okay?” Connor asked, his voice tight, his hand gripping my arm.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a shaky exhale. “But those assholes…”
“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” Connor muttered, his voice low and angry. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Comments
Anthony
You could see it in him — that ugly, terrified kind of fear teens get when something doesn’t fit the tiny world they understand. Instead of facing that fear, he swung it at someone else. He wasn’t brave — he was scared, and he hid it by trying to hurt the kid he didn’t understand.
Garrick
How fucked up
