An hour after he got the phone call from Jason, Troy pulled up in front of the garage, got out of the car, and hefted his overnight bag over his shoulder. He'd tried to call the dumb bastard twice during the trip, with no answer, but he was pretty sure he knew where Jason would be. Passing through the building, he dropped his bag in Jason's office and headed out back.
He was right. Jason was on his back underneath the car. The royal blue 1968 Mustang he'd been working on for five years. Even in the fading light, Troy could see he'd made considerable progress. In fact, Troy was pretty sure the damn thing was nearly done.
He approached the car and kicked Jason's foot lightly. "Dude," he said. "What the fuck?"
"Hey!" Jason rolled out from under the car and peered up at Troy with a grin. "You made it."
"No thanks to you." Troy leaned against the car, taking in its gleaming lines. "You done?"
Jason hopped to his feet, still grinning. He looked remarkably clean for a guy who'd just rolled out from under a car. The implications made Troy's cock twitch. "Yep," said Jason. "What do you think?"
"'Bout time. Troy put a hand against Jason's waist and kissed him. "Is that all? When you called, you said you were gonna make it worth my while."
I am." He slid his hands under Troy's lapels. "Remember what I said I was going to do when I finished it?"
"Something about getting fucked on the hood."
"Yeah. Getting fucked by you, in fact."
Troy nodded. He did remember that part. They'd been drinking, and Troy had ribbed Jason about the car. It had all ended with a deal -- if Jason could finish the car in less than eight months, Troy would fuck him senseless on its freshly restored hood.
Well. A deal was a deal. And it wasn't as if Troy didn't want to fuck Jason. He did. Very much.