A smile crosses his face as he turns back to the engine beneath the hood of the car. Terrence watches him struggle with a stubborn bolt, the wrench in his hand slipping without purchase. When Jimmy leans in for a little more leverage, Terrence reaches out as if to catch him and threads a finger through the belt loop on the back of Jimmy’s jeans. The movement brings him closer; he smells the manly scent of sweat coming off the mechanic. Gasoline and oil and animalistic musk conspire to drive his libido crazy. Another step closer and the front of his slacks will touch Jimmy’s hip, and the hardness shoved down his briefs would leave no doubt about his intentions.
Jimmy’s elbow flares out as he wrestles with the bolt, bumping into Terrence’s chest. “Sorry,” he says, throwing a quick look over
