Hitchhiing

A repost to fix the lack of a condom that many people pointed out to me. A massive thank you to the people in the Feedback forum for helping me fix a couple of things in this.

*

Max Field was not a happy bunny. It was pitch black, fucking

freezing

and it had just started raining really, really hard. Oh, and he was outside in this. With nothing even vaguely waterproof; not even his bag, unfortunately.

There hadn't been any nice people for forever. What Mom had told him about the north of England being friendlier than the South was clearly a lie; or maybe it just didn't apply to skinny blond American hitchhikers who were stupid enough not to pack for British weather.

He was really, really cold. His hair would be insane tomorrow.

More cars zoomed past. Even their taillights seemed smug. Max contemplated swearing at them.

A sleek black BMW slowed to a stop in front of him. Max gaped at it like an idiot. If there was a law of hitchhiking, it was that cars like that never stopped for people like him. The window rolled down with a faint purr and a middle-aged man leaned across from the driver seat.

"You want a lift, mate?"

"God, please," Max blurted. The man smiled and Max could feel his face going red. "But I'm all ..." He gestured to his "jumped-into-a-swimming-pool-fully-clothed" appearance. The man shrugged.

"It's fine. I have a heater."

"What's your name?" the man asked Max when Max had settled down in the seat with his sodden carry bag at his feet.

"Max, hi, you?"

"I'm Douglas, pleased to meet you." They shook hands.

"Seriously," Max babbled, "thank you

so

much! It's completely crazy out there!"

Douglas chuckled. "Yeah, it is fairly awful tonight." He ran his hand over his short blond hair, ruffling it upwards - Max could see a lot of grey at the roots and wondered whether it was dyed.

They edged out into the traffic. As they began to pick up speed, Max shut his eyes and relaxed. In the warm at last.

He could hear Douglas changing through the gears. In his first few car rides (especially the one from London to Cambridge) he had watched with interest the movement of the shift stick - he had never driven one and never really seen anyone else driving one, either. But it seemed like everybody drove with them in Britain, and he was too apathetic from the cold to bother to watch again.

As a result, he jumped a mile when the man's hand landed on his leg.

"Shit, sorry!" Douglas said. His ears were red. "I missed the gearstick."

"No problem," Max assured him. He was sure he'd do the same if he had to cope with one those fiddly things. Automatic was way better. The tiny immoral part of him pointed out that he wasn't averse to good-looking men grabbing his leg, even if there was an age gap and potentially dyed hair involved.

"Not used to having someone else in the car."

"No family, then?"

"No." Douglas looked uncomfortable. Max's immediate thought was a divorce, though maybe his parents had just oversensitised him. "You?"

"No kids or anything, nah." Max wanted to add "I have a boyfriend," but if this guy, as nice as he was, turned out to be a homophobe then he'd have to find someone else to give him a lift. And he'd just started to dry off, too.

"No girlfriend?" Douglas asked, flicking on his indicator to change lanes and overtake a red Volvo. Max shook his head. His heart rate picked up. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed when Douglas didn't ask about boyfriends. It implied that the possibility hadn't even crossed his mind, which meant he was straight - and it was so wrong that Max automatically equated straight middle-aged man with homophobe but he did. He made a mental note to be careful with what he said.

The motorway stretched out in front of them, featureless and hypnotising in its endless sameness. It was starting to get dark. Max rested his head against the window and let the mass of grey blur past.

"So why are you travelling to Glasgow?" Douglas asked, jolting him back into reality. "Oh, I'm sorry for waking you - "

"It's fine, I wasn't really asleep," Max said, grinning at the man. He smiled back. "Anyway, so, yeah, I'm going to Glasgow to meet up with my b-" shit, "my friend, who's there on business." He prayed Douglas hadn't noticed the slip. There was a long, heart-stopping pause, but then the older man nodded.

"You should take a look around the city while you're there. It's quite amazing."

"I should," Max agreed. "Thanks."

Ten minutes later, and the road in front of them lit up with what looked like hundreds of red brake lights. The car joined the back of a queue that stretched as far into the distance as Max could see, and came to a dead stop.

"Fuck's sake!" Douglas thumped the dashboard then shot an apologetic look at Max.

"My thoughts exactly," Max muttered. He slid the shoulder strap of his seatbelt off and leaned forwards until his elbows were on the dashboard, then dropped his chin onto his hands. "I hate waiting for things."

Douglas grunted in agreement.

Time passed by. Max banned himself from clock watching after the eighth time. He got his phone out and ran his thumb over the buttons thoughtfully. He didn't know who to text. Or what to text.

Hi, stuck in traffic jam with sexy english gentleman, bored?

He could imagine Alan's response to that. For a straight guy, Alan could be a little obsessed with the idea of Max getting some.

"Max?"

He jumped so badly that he nearly dropped his phone. "Yeah?"

"There's a packet of chocolate bars in the back, could you get me one out? Have one yourself if you want."

"Ok." Max fully undid his seatbelt and wriggled around so that he could reach the back seats. "Ooh, English chocolate!"

"What did you think it was going to be?" Douglas said dryly. Automatically, Max turned around and stuck his tongue out at him. It was something he did without thinking to any of his friends, but Douglas was a virtual stranger, and older, and had that cool British stoicism thing going on and ugh he couldn't believe he'd just done that.

"Sorry!" He handed Douglas the chocolate bar, knowing his face was going red.

"Don't worry about it," the older man said with a chuckle. They munched on their chocolate in companionable silence for several minutes, when suddenly Douglas asked,

"Did you mean to say 'boyfriend' earlier, Max?"

Fuck. Max's brain stalled. "Um ... I ... no ..." He could see in his peripheral vision that Douglas was looking at him, but he stared fixedly out of the windscreen, watching the fat raindrops splatter against the glass.

"It's ok," Douglas said quietly. "I'm not homophobic. It's fine. I was just curious."

Max breathed again. "Thank fuck," he accidentally said out loud. "I thought you'd dump me by the side of the road or something."

Douglas chuckled. "No, no. I wouldn't do that. Not when your hair looks like it's just dried off."

Max reached up and squeezed a hunk of his hair. Sure enough, it was damp rather than drowned-rat-saturated. He grinned at Douglas who smiled back.

"So, you do have a boyfriend?" Douglas asked, turning his head to look at the immovable cars in front of them.

"Yeah." Max pulled a face. "Well, on and off." He sighed. "We had an argument just before he left, and we've technically broken up. He's got the worst temper ever."

"Did he hit you?"

"No!" Max went red when he realised that he had shouted. "No, he would never hit me. But he does hit the walls, and the furniture. It's a good thing he makes a decent salary or he'd be living in a cardboard box, I swear."

"What did he break this time?" Douglas asked. His voice was hushed, as though this was a dangerous topic. Max rubbed his face with one hand and sighed again.

"Oh, stuff. Mashed his hands up pretty badly and wouldn't let me fix them up. That got me mad so I didn't apologise, and he's got this thing about never saying sorry 'til I do, so ..." He trailed off. Douglas made a disappointed tutting sound.

"It doesn't do to put pride before love," he chided.

"Yeah, yeah," Max muttered, trying not to be as rude as he suddenly wanted to be. What business was it of his, anyway? What did he know? "Are you gay?" he demanded. Douglas' silence was suddenly stony.

"Well, then," Max said sulkily. He felt suddenly guilty, as though he had crossed an unwritten line, and renewed fears of being dumped outside in the cold surged up.

A few tensely silent minutes later, the queue began to move. Feeling like the situation needed something over the top, Max whooped and slapped the dashboard. Douglas laughed and reached for the shift stick. He got Max's leg again instead. And this time, he didn't take it away immediately. The palm was hot and all five fingers curved around Max's leg just above the knee in an almost imperceptible squeeze.

Just as Max was about to say something, Douglas took his hand off and put it onto the shift stick. Max looked at him; his ears were red and he was frowning.

Well, Max thought to himself as the car inched forwards. Well, well, well. So, no matter how Douglas cared to define himself, he had homoerotic impulses which were currently directed at Max.

What to do now? If Douglas made another move and Max directly rejected it, he was sure he would be dumped at the next service station. Add to that the fact that right now he felt very little loyalty towards Kai, and that he had been thinking Douglas was attractive since first seeing him through the car window and top it off with the fact that no-one would ever know and suddenly the decision was made for him.

God, you're a whore, Max, he told himself. An immoral little slut.

"It's ok," he whispered, so quietly that at first he wasn't sure whether or not Douglas had heard. But then he heard Douglas let out a long, shaky sigh and thought that would do it.

The queue ground to a halt again. Douglas put the car into neutral, then slid his hand from the gearstick to Max's leg. Again, he squeezed it; gentle at first, but then when Max made no move to stop him, he began to squeeze more firmly. His hand moved up Max's leg. Max was surprised and pleased to feel the warm stirrings of arousal from just that one touch.

Neither of them were looking at each other, both staring straight ahead out the window even though it was getting dark enough outside for Max to faintly see his own face reflected back.

Douglas' fingers were pressing on Max's inner thigh, mere milimetres away from his denim crotch. Douglas flexed his hand; two knuckles brushed against Max's crotch. Max tried to suppress the moan that wanted to come out, managing to squash it down to a gasp instead. He spread his legs wider, marvelling as he felt his cock already twitching. He wondered if the jeans were tight enough for Douglas to see the beginnings of his hard-on.

He heard Douglas catch his breath with a noise very similar to the one he had just made, and guessed that, yes, it was probably visible.

"You too?" he asked in a whisper, still staring out of the windscreen. If he concentrated, he could see not only his face, but Douglas' too.

"Yes." It was almost a pant; Douglas was clearly much more aroused than Max.

Max grinned at the thought. "How long have you been turned on for?" There was a silence and Max hoped he hadn't accidentally said something outrageous.

"Since I first touched your leg. More so when you let slip you had a boyfriend." Douglas audibly swallowed. "Does that bother you?"

Max laughed. "No," he said truthfully, "it's pretty hot to know I made you feel like that." He wriggled closer to the right side of his seat, trying to get Douglas to move his hand again.

"Are you definitely comfortable with this, Max?"

Max couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. Was the guy stupid? He turned his head and looked straight at Douglas, at the older man's not-quite-in-focus eyes and half open, almost panting mouth.

"Touch me, Douglas," he demanded. A thrill raced down his spine and straight into his cock at his own audacity, and at the sudden look in Douglas' eyes. The older man's hand cupped Max's bulging cock without any further encouragement, and this time Max allowed the groan to roll from between his lips. "Oh, yeah," he breathed as Douglas began to massage it. He pushed against the older man's hand, wanting as much contact as possible. When that didn't do enough, he unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. Douglas withdrew his hand, much to Max's intense displeasure.

"Are you cer-"

Max scoffed loudly and looked at Douglas again, nodding towards the large lump in Douglas' neatly pressed black trousers. "Look, you want to, I want you to, so where's the problem?"

Not waiting for Douglas to answer, he hooked his fingers into his belt loops and pulled and wriggled like a mad thing. Stupid damn skinny jeans! Move! Gradually they relinquished their barnacle-grip on his ass and slid down. He gasped out loud as the material dragged over his cock, which, now held only by thin boxers, sprang up eagerly. The jeans got stuck at his thighs. He swore and tugged at them fruitlessly.

"Allow me." Douglas leaned over the shiftstick and put one hand on each of Max's legs, just below the knee, gathering up what little slack there was. The side of his face was very close to Max. Mischievously, Max leaned forwards and whispered, "Hi," in his ear as breathily as he could, then nibbled on his earlobe. Douglas let out a tiny, faint groan, the first proper noise he had made so far, and slid Max's jeans down to his ankles.

Max moaned as Douglas put his hand back on Max's exposed upper thigh. The heat from his hand on such a sensitive piece of bare skin felt fantastic. He moaned again, louder, and felt his cock stiffen even further. Looking down, he saw that it was actually poking out of the waistband of his boxers. A quick look to the side confirmed that Douglas could see that too; he was staring at it with hungry, glassy eyes and panting like he had just run a mile.

"Come on," Max hissed through his teeth. He watched eagerly as Douglas pulled down his boxers, leaving them just above his knees, and then, finally, took hold of Max's naked cock. Max made a noise somewhere between a moan and a shout as Douglas began to jerk him off with long, hard strokes. "Oh, fuck, yeah, that's so fucking

good

," he gasped.

Now that he was finally being satisfied, he looked over to Douglas and was shocked to see that although the man looked to be fully erect inside those usefully loose trousers, he wasn't doing anything about it! "Do you want me to do you too?" he asked, feeling guilty for not thinking about this earlier.

Douglas looked shocked, then excited. "I didn't think ... of course ... thank you," he gabbled. Max laughed. Douglas let go of Max's cock and undid his trousers; they were around his ankles in seconds and his boxers followed.

Max eyed the new sight with interest before reaching for it; it was smaller but thicker than his own and nestled deep in a mat of dark blond hair. It was strange and exciting to see such a similar colour to his own, he had never been with another blond before.

Douglas apparently thought that Max's staring had another motive because he went red and muttered, "I know it's a bit untidy - "

"Yeah, because you so could have predicted you were going to trade handjobs with some random hitch-hiker," Max said sarcastically. He looked out the window and scowled. "Cars are moving." Douglas looked too.

"Not much." He put the car into gear. The car covered all of two or three metres before grinding to a halt again. Douglas looked at Max with bright eyes, licked his lips and said, "This queue's going to stay for a while, I think."

"What a pity," Max joked, and curled his fingers around the root of Douglas' cock. He gasped with pleasure as Douglas took hold of him again and started to pump away. He tried his best to focus on giving Douglas a decent handjob, but he was so turned on that all he could really think about was bucking his hips against Douglas' hand, trying to drive him on. "Faster, please, faster," he begged, and gave a long drawn-out moan when Douglas complied, his hand moving so fast that without the copious amounts of pre-cum Max was leaking, it would have hurt.

In return, Max upped the speed of his hand on Douglas' thick cock, and the man made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a gasp.

Max adored this stage of arousal; he felt like a piece of clockwork that someone had wound up to breaking point, like all of his internal organs were contracting and twisting in preparation. His head was already beginning to go fuzzy; this was going to be an awesome orgasm.

"You're driving," Max said as best as he could between loud moans and gasping for air, "and I'm ... I'm gonna come, Doug. You might wanna ... move your hand." Precum was sticky enough as it was; he didn't wanted Douglas trying to wipe enough cum off his hand to drive.

"Bugger, you're right," Douglas panted, sounding irritated. "Ok. Ok, Max, tell me exactly when you're going to come." He rubbed his thumb over the tip of Max's cock, and Max bucked so much that he crushed Douglas' hand against the dashboard.

"Now," he gasped, thrusting his hips madly as he drowned in the fantastic sensation, "now, I'm gonna fucking come, oh fuck, Douglas, so fucking good, fucking hell, oh!" Douglas let go. Max reached for himself with both hands, frantically pumping his cock with one hand while the other fondled his balls. He screamed at the top of his voice as his cock began to spasm, and he came so hard that the world greyed out.

He blinked back into the world just in time to hear Douglas emit a loud, animalistic sounding grunt. He looked just in time to see Douglas' face contorting as he came.

Max managed a weak smile but Douglas was too drained to do anything more than loll his head against the headrest with closed eyes and pant like a dog.

By the time the queue began to move again, Douglas had recovered enough to drive. They moved further this time, staying in motion for three or four minutes. Max took the time to clean himself up as best he could with some tissues Douglas found for him in the glove compartment, and couldn't help but watch as Douglas did the same one-handed.

At least Douglas only had to clean up his lap. Max had somehow managed to splatter the windscreen in front of him.

"I haven't come that hard in months," he admitted with a grin. Douglas snorted and clapped Max companionably on the knee.

"Max, mate, I haven't come like that in years!" He seemed so happy that Max couldn't help but grin back. "I didn't even need my hands to finish myself off!"

"Did you watch me coming?" Max said archly. Douglas' face went the sort of blank that meant "Yes, but you weren't supposed to know that!" and Max laughed. He reached over and toyed with Douglas' limp cock, gently stroking the shaft and bouncing the balls very softly in his palm.

Douglas sighed and seemed to melt in his seat. Max was amazed to feel the tiniest twitch under his lazy fingers. God, what was that, five minutes? "Not bad for an old guy!" he said admiringly. Douglas gave him a mock-stern look. "How old are you, anyway, oh ancient one?" Max teased.

"I'm," Douglas hesitated slightly, looking embarrassed, "forty-eight. What about you, little lad?" He smirked at Max's pretended affronted look.

"Nineteen, thanks very much." Max gave Douglas' cock a hard squeeze, calculated for both pleasure and pain. It twitched again in response. An idea began to form in Max's mind, and he started to work Douglas' cock more methodically.

"I won't be good for another go for another couple of minutes," Douglas said almost apologetically, patting Max's wrist. Max shrugged.

"'S'all good." They sat in silence for a moment.

"You're very loud," Douglas said with a chuckle. His hand was still resting on Max's wrist.