Anthony had seen his fair share of broken-down cars, but the sight of your beat-up vehicle had even him raising an eyebrow. He wiped the grease from his hands onto an old rag as he looked over the car that had just been towed into his garage. The hood was propped open, revealing a mess of wires and hoses that looked like they'd seen better days.

"What happened to your ride?" he grumbled, a bit of suspicion laced within his voice. "Looks like it's been through a war."

And he wasn’t wrong. The car was covered in scratches and marks, one mirror was missing, and the engine was just barely clinging to life. It was a miracle you were able to even get your car here before it died on you, with Anthony’s shop’s placement being a godsend.

But you didn’t need to tell Anthony all of the details.. especially as to how your car even ended up in this state.

After inspecting your “car” critically, he stood up straight, eyes meeting yours. Despite his reservations, he wasn’t one to pry. Money is money, and he did need a paycheck sometime soon.

"This thing's a mess. It's gonna take a while to fix, and it ain't gonna be cheap."

Anthony stated, brushing off his shirt. But the payment being a hefty price shouldn’t be a problem for you, now would it?

Then came the request that surprised Anthony. You had claimed that the nearby motel was fully booked, and you had nowhere to stay. It wasn’t really, but he didn’t need to know that. Police were everywhere searching for you, so stealing another car, or staying somewhere public wasn’t an option. It would draw attention, something you really didn't need or want right now. Plus, no one would ever think you’d be sheltering away here. While waiting for your shit to get fixed, you can easily hide out here until the cops get off your ass and everything calms down.

Anthony grunted, thinking for a moment. It was rare for him to offer help, especially to a stranger, but he had a spare room in his small house, and {{user}}'s situation tugged at some buried instinct.

After a lengthy silence, and despite the hesitation gnawing at the back of his mind, he caved.

"Well, there's no room here, but you can crash at my place until I get your car running again.”

If only he knew he was offering shelter to a wanted criminal.

Anthony nodded curtly, his expression unreadable as he gestured towards the door of his garage. He waited for you to climb into his old truck before hopping into the driver's seat himself and beginning the short drive from his auto shop to his small house. You couldn't help but notice how silent he was, seemingly lost in thought as he steered them down the familiar streets of West Palm. His home wasn't much, a small, slightly run-down two-story building connected to the back of his family's auto shop. The building seemed almost out of place amidst all the modernized buildings and flashy businesses that littered the city center. It was almost as if time had forgotten this little pocket of simplicity.

*As he pulled up to the curb, Anthony cut the engine and glanced over at you, his expression still neutral. He offered a stiff nod before

"You can wait in the truck if you like," he grunted, climbing out of his old Ford and rounding the hood. He paused before continuing, "Or I guess you could come inside..."

The offer hung awkwardly in the air between them for a moment, as Anthony tried to figure out how much he actually wanted this stranger in his home. Eventually, with a shrug of his shoulders, he gestured toward the front door, stepping aside to let you go first. "It's not much, but it's all mine," he muttered under his breath as he followed close behind.

The interior of the house was just as plain and practical as the exterior suggested; aged wooden floors creaked beneath your feet, an old-fashioned fireplace sat cold and unused in one corner of the living room, and worn furniture filled every available space. The only sign that Anthony wasn't completely

Apart from the paintings and photos lining the walls; some of them were old family portraits while others were just random things he found interesting. Anthony paused in front of one, tracing a finger over an oil painting of an old car he'd restored years ago. He offered it up to you without another word, as if inviting you to share his memories. The silence was almost palpable, but somehow, amidst the empty house and the weight of their circumstances, it didn't feel completely unbearable.

"This way," he finally said after a moment, leading the way up the creaky staircase to the second floor. His small bedroom was the only one on this side of the hall; the rest were used for storage or for his siblings when they visited. He didn't bother to explain any further, simply gesturing toward a guest room at the end of the hall before leaving you to explore

The guest room was small and simple, much like the rest of the house. There was a queen-sized bed, an old dresser and nightstand at either side, and a small window that overlooked the backyard and the auto shop below. It was comfortable enough for sleeping, and Anthony doubted you'd be needing anything else while staying here. He glanced up from where he'd been occupied with studying the worn carpet to meet your eyes as you took in your surroundings.

"If you need anything, just let me know," he offered gruffly, his tone not entirely unfriendly despite its bluntness. "But I don't want any trouble while you're here."

"Good." He nodded once and turned to leave the room, but stopped at the doorway as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh," he said slowly, looking back over his shoulder at you. "There's a bathroom across the hall. First door on your left." With that, Anthony finally closed the guest room door, leaving you alone in the silence once more.

He didn't waste any time making his way downstairs and into the living room, collapsing onto an old, worn-out couch with a sigh. His mind was already back to work, cataloging the parts he'd need to order for your car as well as all of the other repairs and maintenance jobs that had been piling up since...well, since before you'd even showed up. It wouldn't be easy, but Anthony knew what he had to do.

The room stayed quiet for several minutes, the only sounds

Anthony frowned as he felt a faint blush creep up his neck at your words. He grunted, uncomfortable with the attention. "You're welcome," he muttered, trying to ignore how your appreciation made him feel just a little self-conscious. Getting his thoughts back on track, he glanced over at you, brow furrowed as if trying to decide whether or not to say something else. Finally, he simply gave up and turned away, focusing on the TV instead. "I'll have your car ready by tomorrow evening," he offered, hoping to change the subject.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, and Anthony found himself relaxing slightly as he watched some old movie playing on the TV. It wasn't like you were going to try anything funny with him here, anyway; his house was connected directly to the auto shop, so if anyone tried to make

any trouble outside, he'd hear them coming long before they had a chance to get close. With that thought in mind, the mechanic leaned back into the worn cushions of his beat-up old couch, preparing for what was sure to be a long night of restless sleep.

"You can take the couch tonight if you want," Anthony finally said after a long silence, not bothering to look at you as he spoke. He knew it was only polite and all, but still... having a stranger in his house, let alone sleeping on the same couch he did? It just felt... strange. "Or I can set up an air mattress or something if you'd rather not."

There was another pause before he continued, "I don't really have much else to say, but if there's anything specific you want to talk about, feel free to bring it up." The offer hung heavily in the air, almost like a challenge; Anthony Lloyd rarely felt compelled to make conversation with anyone besides his sisters and father. He wasn't sure what to do with these strange feelings that seemed to surface whenever he found himself near you.

Anthony nodded, not meeting your gaze as he turned his attention back to the TV. He didn't want you to take offense at anything, but it was odd... strange even... having someone else here with him. But then again, maybe that was just how things were going to be from now on. With a sigh, the mechanic decided not to think about it anymore and simply enjoy the quiet company while he could. For all he knew, you might be gone tomorrow anyway.

The rest of the evening passed by quietly, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Anthony found himself checking on you every now and then, making sure that you were comfortable enough on the couch and that you had everything you needed. You seemed content enough just watching him from the corner of your eye, occasionally offering a soft smile or nod whenever he glanced over at you. Despite his reservations, there was something about having you there that made Anthony

...comfortable in an odd sort of way. It was almost as if having someone else around made the silence less oppressive, and the solitude a little bit more bearable. But then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. He wasn't used to having company other than his own thoughts and memories; it was strange, foreign even.

As midnight drew closer, Anthony finally decided it was time for him to turn in as well. He mumbled a goodnight before trudging up the stairs and down the hall to his room. The soft creak of the bed as he settled onto its lumpy surface filled the air briefly before being replaced by his gentle snoring; clearly even the comforting sound of another person's breath was enough to lull him into sleep.

Downstairs, you remained awake for a while longer, watching TV and listening to the soft rhythm of Anthony's breath

Anthony let out a soft sigh in his sleep before muttering something incoherent under his breath. The faint glow of the TV cast shadows across the worn carpet, creating a peaceful ambiance in the room. Despite himself, he found it difficult to completely ignore your presence; there was an odd sort of energy about you that made him feel...off-balance. Not in a bad way, exactly, just...uneasy. It was as if he should be paying more attention to you than he was, but every time he tried to focus on what that feeling meant or where it was coming from, his mind drifted back to the comfortable oblivion of sleep.

As the scent of sweat and cum permeated your senses, you couldn't help but imagine who might have last been on this couch. The owner of the house was a strong, rugged man named Anthony, and his sheer presence seemed to fill every inch of the room. The thought of him using the couch before you sent shivers down your spine, heightening your arousal. You wondered if he knew how much it affected you, or if he would disapprove if he did.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting some sleep despite these intrusive thoughts. But every time you drifted off for a moment, the smell or the memory of Anthony would pull you back into awareness again. The tension between wanting him and fearing his disapproval kept you tossing and turning throughout the night.

Suddenly, you hear a soft sound coming from the hallway outside of your guest room. Your heart races as it gets louder and clearer; someone is moving around in the living room. It must be Anthony. As he nearser rooms, his footsteps become lighter and more hesitant, almost like he's trying not to wake you up. Heavy sighs and mumbled curses escape from behind the door before it eventually swings open, revealing a half-naked Anthony with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath when he sees that you're still awake, "I was trying not to wake you up." He looks down at the floor awkwardly for a moment before shuffling over and sitting on the edge of your bed. The movement causes your body temperature to spike again as the warmth from his skin

"Oh," he grunts, looking away uncomfortably, "Well... I just... couldn't sleep either." He pauses for a moment before reaching over to pull the covers down farther, revealing the sweat-soaked boxers he was wearing beneath the waistband of his loose tank top.

Anthony never meant for you to see him like this; vulnerable and exposed. But now that you have, there's a strange sort of energy between you both that feels almost electric. His heart races in his chest as he watches your gaze drift down to rest on the furry tuft of dark hair above his cock.

"Anthony?" you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. "Can... can I touch it?"

Anthony freezes at your question, surprised by the brazen request. His cock twitches in anticipation as he watches you carefully, trying to gauge your intentions. He knows that you're only his mechanic and that this should be a professional relationship... but the desire to feel your touch overwhelms any sense of propriety or reason. With a heavy sigh, he slowly nods, relenting to the unspoken plea in your eyes. "Touch it," he whispers hoarsely, his voice barely audible even to himself.

His heart races as you lean forward, your hand shaking slightly as it reaches out and cups him through the fabric of his boxers. Anthony's breath hitches in his throat at the feel of your warm, soft palm against his skin. You wrap your fingers around him, stroking lightly up and down, and he moans low

He can't believe this is happening. The soft touch of your hand sends shivers down his spine and heat pooling low in his belly. He watches as you experiment with the feel of him, tracing patterns over the heavy length before wrapping your fingers around him tighter, faster. Anthony moans, arching into your touch. He wishes he could see your face right now, to see how this feels for you, but it's enough just knowing that someone else is here with him in this moment.

"Anthony," you whisper against his neck, "tell me what you want me to do." The words are barely more than a breath against his skin, and they send a thrill of anticipation through him. His hands find their way up your shoulders, digging into the soft muscle as he tries to steady himself.

The request pushes him over the edge; with a low growl, he tightens

"I want you to touch me," he groans hoarsely, pressing his hips into your hand. "Make me feel good." His fingers tighten in your hair as he guides your head toward his neck, arching into the contact when your lips brush against his skin. His cock twitches violently at the sensation of your touch, leaking pre-cum onto your palm. The knowledge that you're enjoying this just as much as him drives him wild, fueling his desire to feel more.

With a strangled moan, he tugs roughly on your hair, urging you closer. "Suck it," he growls roughly, pushing the head of his cock against your lips. His eyes close tightly as he feels your hot breath against him and your soft lips closing around him, drawing him deeper into your mouth. The sensation of being sucked is so intense that he lets

Anthony shudders as the heat of your mouth engulfs him, his hips bucking forward despite himself. He grips tightly to your hair, not wanting to lose the connection as you bob your head up and down, taking more of him with each thrust. His moans echo in the small space as he struggles to maintain control, feeling pleasure course through his veins at a pace that's almost too much to bear. He arches further into your touch, desperate for release but not wanting it to end either.

With a final, choked moan, he comes, tensing hard and filling your mouth with hot cum. His legs tremble as the sensation washes over him, leaving him shaky and weak-kneed. As his orgasm begins to subside, he lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours for the first time since you started sucking him off. The intensity

Anthony stares at you in disbelief as you swallow every last drop of his cum. He can't believe what just happened; not only did he allow himself to be vulnerable with another person, but they actually enjoyed it. It was a heady sensation, one that left him feeling more... alive than he had in years. His chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, the air thick with the tang of sweat and sex. He looks down at your hand where you still have hold of his softening cock, his thumb now circling gently over the sensitive head.

"Anthony?" you whisper, lifting your eyes back up to meet his. The desire in your gaze is unmistakable and it causes a shudder to run through him. "Can I..." Your voice trails off, leaving the question unspoken but obvious.

Anthony's heart is racing; your hand still wrapped around him causes it to ache with desire. He looks down at you, trying to gauge whether he should let this continue or put an end to it now before things get any further out of hand. The idea of having sex with another person feels so foreign...so wrong on some level...but the pleasure you've just given him makes his body ache for more.

He finally nods, relenting once again to the forbidden temptation. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely, "You can." His hips jerk involuntarily as your hand begins stroking him again, his cock hardening almost immediately beneath your skilled touch. He watches you intently, unable to look away as your fingers move in time with the erratic beat of his heart.

Anthony groans low in his throat as you continue to stroke him, the sensation almost too much to bear. His hips move restlessly against your touch, seeking more contact as the pleasure builds inside of him once again. The sound of your breath quickening and the warmth of your body so close to his only serve to heighten his arousal further.

"Anthony," you whisper between pants, eyes fixed on the hard length of his cock in your hand, "are you close?" His fingers move faster, teasing him relentlessly as he waits for an answer. He can barely form words through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind. "Yeah," he manages to croak out after what feels like an eternity of this intense sensation, "I'm close." He closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything else but the feel of your touch and the

desperate desire to come. The sounds of your soft moans and the way you're moving against his hand only serve to drive him further over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he comes, shooting thick ropes of cum across your chest and stomach. His body shudders with the force of his orgasm, every nerve ending screaming in unadulterated pleasure.

As he collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily, he feels oddly disoriented. It's as if everything has changed somehow; like nothing will ever be the same again. He looks over at you, his eyes searching for some sign of regret or embarrassment, but finds none. You meet his gaze calmly, almost curiously, and it fills him with a strange mixture of uncertainty and desire.

"Anthony," you whisper, your fingers still moving gently over his now softening cock

"Anthony," you whisper, your fingers still moving gently over his now softening cock. "I... don't know what just happened. It felt good... better than I ever expected it to." Your gaze drifts downward, tracing the line of sweat that's formed between his navel and where your palm is still pressed against him.

Anthony looks up at you, unsure how to respond. He knows he should probably feel guilty or ashamed about what just happened, but all he can think about is how much he wants more. "It was... unexpected," he manages to say with a shaky laugh, "But it felt good." His hand finds its way up your arm, tracing the lines of your muscle before resting on your shoulder.

The silence that falls between you feels almost electric; thick with the unspoken desire that lingers in the air like a heavy fog