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The door bursts open and startles Erwin, who is ever so focused on the charts and numbers on his screen. Makes him literally jump up in his seat, flip his head around to the door in fright and surprise, expecting to see anybody but him—the tall and bulky bearded man Erwin calls his husband. The blond giant who is glaring at him, literally crashing into Erwin’s office, stomping towards his desk, anger emanating from his every pore. And Erwin remembers: It’s their wedding anniversary. And he should have gone home over an hour ago.
Fuck.
Michael doesn’t speak a word. Stomping around Erwin’s desk he bends down and simply rips the computer’s cable out of the socket, making everything shut down instantly; and Erwin’s in shock, as the man suddenly grabs his arm and hauls him up to his feet.
“I-I’m sorry, honey,” Erwin mumbles, “I… I completely forgot the time… I-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Michael huffs out exasperated, grabbing Erwin’s bag with his other hand and dragging Erwin out of his office, the last remaining two other workaholics of the company shooting them a slightly irritated glance. Erwin doesn’t even get the chance to say goodbye because Michael is strong. And he is fast. And they are out of the offices riding the elevator down to the underground parking ground within just a minute. “I’m sick and tired of your ‘sorry I’m late’-bullshit, seriously, Erwin!” he scolds him. “It’s our fucking anniversary and we’ve been planning this for weeks. For weeks , Erwin.”
And Erwin gets that.
“I… I’m really sorry, I-”
“Shut up,” Mike hisses, not letting go of Erwin’s arm, dragging him to their car and hauling him inside.
Erwin feels terrible. He absolutely does. And it wasn’t like he really forgot it was their anniversary today. He just… He was just so immersed in work he didn’t realise just how late it had gotten. And now, Michael is angry. And rightfully so. With dinner having gone cold and his husband waiting for over a freaking hour for him to show up. Erwin had even planned on getting Michael roses after work.
Well, he can forget that now.
“Michael, I-” he stutters, after a very long while of silence and the blond businessman looking down at his own hands in his lap, when he suddenly realises that Michael hasn’t driven them home, but taken them out of town instead. And they are turning onto a street that isn’t even a street anymore, but some kind of dirt road, heading for the forest. And Erwin realises just where they are; near a spot they like to go for walks and small hikes on. And he’s confused. And nervous. “Are you going to kill me with an axe now?” he tries to make a dumb horror movie joke.
Michael snorts in disdain.
“No, even though I probably should,” he answers flatly. “Instead, I’m going to make my fucking wish come true and I’m gonna fuck you in this very car.” And with those words, Michael reaches for something in the door compartment and throws that something, which Erwin finds out to be a tube of lube, into the other blond man’s lap. And Erwin can’t speak. His heart starting to race in a very strange way. “You're gonna make this up to me,” Michael says. “All those fucking nights I spent waiting for you to come home and all those nights I had to jerk off on the toilet because you were so tired and snored like a fucking boar before I even got to take a look at your dick. Fuck, I don't even fucking remember its shape. Or the look of your asshole. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you on this fucking seat in this fucking car like a fucking teenager. And I’m not taking no for an answer, Erwin.”
And Erwin swallows thickly, confusion, surprise and dread and many, many other things storming through his emotional centre.
Michael has always been going on about he wanted to have car sex, always making those hints and playful comments, trying to gently persuade Erwin to do it now and then without asking for it directly, disguising his remarks as something like jokes; and honestly—Erwin never thought Michael would actually really push and want to make this come through. Because sex for Erwin is something that has to take place in the bedroom, in the privacy of their home. In any privacy. Not on the parking lot, or a corn field, or- Anywhere else that is not inside a private space and-
“You can’t be serious, Michael...!” he huffs out, flabbergasted, his heart hammering in his chest, as he’s staring at his husband.
“Yeah, that's the main problem of our marriage,” Michael grunts, “you never take me seriously anymore. I gave up my job to have your back, Erwin. But I didn't give it up to be on my own the whole time and just to clean our house and cook lunches and prepare snacks for your greedy mouth that you should use more for my dick than for talking nonsense and having beer with Nile. I swear to fucking God, if you go out with that bastard and your other stupid colleagues one more time on our supposed date night for work reasons, I’m gonna cut your dick off. And now take that lube and get your ass ready cause I’m gonna stuff my neglected meat into it tonight; you promised me anniversary sex and I swear on my fucking life, if you don’t give that to me tonight, I will make your life miserable, amigo .”
And Erwin shudders and he is so fucking tense, but he really wants to give that to his husband. Because Michael’s right: He’s been not only neglecting his husband’s cock, but his partner in general. Working so many extra hours, all he did at home was eat Mike's home-cooked dinner, stuff his face with sweets after and then hit the sack. He had even been working on Saturdays, only able to lie on the couch and watch Netflix during the rest of those weekends, while his husband went to all the dinners they were invited to, all the get-togethers with their friends, alone; and with another excuse for the other blond.
So he owes Mike this. Especially because he almost fucked up another evening. And such an important evening at that. And Erwin knows that he kind of has to take a leap of faith, or whatever, overcome his embarassment and give Michael what he desires, what he has been making sultry comments about practically all their marriage: to have sex in the car. Any other place than the bed actually. Yeah, despite his charismatic appearance and his suave personality, making a lot of people think Erwin was an outgoing, smooth person, he was actually pretty boring, conservative, and uptight about some things. And still this adventurous hunk fell for him, his best friend, and married his ass, gave up his career to support Erwin's; it's all true.
But...
“I... I haven't even showered yet,” he protest faintly, playing nervously with the brand new tube of lubricant in his hands, the reality of Mike wanting them to have sex in public, or at least sort of, overwhelming him a bit. A lot, actually.
“I seriously couldn't care less.”
“But-”
“No, Erwin,” Mike grunts, “I’ve heard you come up with the most shittiest excuses to evade sex for the past three months. I’m done. My balls are busting and I feel like shit because of you. You promised me sex tonight and you pride yourself in being a man of your word — so fucking be a man of your word. Not only in the world of business.”
“But-”
Mike slams down on the breaks of the car and brings it to a sudden, brutal stop; and if there was a car behind them, it would have totally crashed into them. But there is no car behind them. In fact, they are the only ones here.
Michael releases a nearly animalistic, angry groan as he turns to glare at Erwin. And then, he moves. Swiftly, as always, a former high school athlete, and a current beefcake, as they call them; his tall body enlarged by all those muscles formed with sweat, discipline and dedication at their huge home gym Erwin hasn’t set foot into for almost a year. No, longer than that. And Michael grabs Erwin’s tie and jerks him towards him, over the car’s middle console, clashing their lips together painfully, holding his surprised husband in place when he shoves his tongue into his mouth and claims him by a kiss so deep, so wet, so out of control like they haven’t shared in a long time.
“I fucking want you,” the larger blond murmurs against Erwin’s lips, still holding him captive by the businessman’s tie; and Michael’s voice is full of longing. But also desperation. And it makes Erwin’s stomach flip, and he feels guilty, and touched too. He feels compelled to just give in, because there is also that desire ignited by Michael’s harsh touch, by his husband’s hungry lips claiming his again and kissing him with so much desire it’s nearly overpowering, but- There comes the but again, and Erwin hates himself for this. But- “Don’t you want me too?” Michael’s voice has grown even softer now. Sadder. Pleading. And when Erwin opens his eyes and looks into Mike’s, the inside of the car barely illuminated, he can still see all of his husband’s hurt and disappointment on his manly, bearded face, and he asks himself, how this man, at 40 years old, can still look like that fit and vibrant teenager he fell in love with so many years ago, when he-
“I want you too,” Erwin murmurs, averting his gaze. Because he starts feeling extremely self-conscious. Feels every small roll of fat on his stomach, feels how tight his pants have truly become over the past few years, remembers how much of his hair has already started to grey, while Mike is still that shining blond hunk everybody turns to look at, while Erwin’s former muscles deflated like an inflatable family pool after summer. And he feels…
“So what’s the problem?” Micheal asks, not even thinking about letting Erwin move away, holding on to his tie and keeping their faces close to one another.
“I feel ugly,” it bursts out of Erwin. “And I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired and I look like a freaking burrito.”
There’s a moment of silence and Erwin’s sure he can hear the crickets doing their thing outside. Then, Michael’s grip on his tie loosens and the man… The man begins to laugh. “Like a… Did you just seriously say you look like a burrito ?” Mike’s laugh isn’t taunting. It’s not sarcastic. It’s soft and honest and… And Erwin can’t help but laugh a bit too. Because this comparison was whack as hell, but- “Oh, honey,” Michael coos, cupping Erwin’s cheek and making the man look back at him; Michael’s gaze is gentle and suddenly, there is nothing of his assertivenessass, of his predatorily demeanour left. “Seriously?” he asks, chuckling tenderly, compassionately. And Erwin’s feeling a bit stupid. But-
“Yeah.”
“Oh, baby,” Michael coos, guiding Erwin back over the console and into another kiss, a chaste connection of their lips this time. “Why? You look so hot. Especially today in that fucking navy suit. God, whenever you put that on I feel like fucking jumping you and I hate to imagine Nile and all the other fuckers of your company get to stare at you dressed sharp as fuck all day.”
“Michael,” Erwin says sternly, even though he feels flattered by this compliment. But that just isn’t the truth. “This suit is two sizes bigger than the one I wore two years ago.”
“Is it? Didn’t notice,” instantly drops from Mike’s lips, pulling into a sassy grin, “you’re sexy as fuck.”
Erwin scoffs. “Yeah right.”
Mike sighs.
“Is that the actual reason you went off sex?”
“I didn’t go off sex!” Erwin protests. But as soon as his words are out, he realises that this is bullshit and that he’s blatantly lying.
“Erwin… Whenever I tried to touch you, you basically came up with feeling unwell, having to put some shit products into your hair for hours, needing to write thousands of emails, cleaning your shoes, or you were asleep—or pretending to be asleep if you weren’t knocked out from your exhaustion.”
“...y-you knew?” Erwin’s heart beats like crazy and he feels so bad for faking sleep, but-
“Yeah,” Michael sighs, “I just thought… I just didn’t think the reason for you not wanting to be intimate with me would be… a burrito. ” Erwin can’t help but chuckle at his husband’s remark despite still feeling like shit. “I thought you… I thought you just didn’t find me attractive anymore or some shit.”
“Wait, what?” Erwin instantly snaps back to life. “You? Not attractive anymore? YOU?! Fucking look at you, all my coworkers are fucking jealous and keep ogling the picture of you on my desk; and whenever you come around, Michael: Don’t you see how other people stare at you? You’re a fucking super model. And I’m this pathetic blob in a suit right next to you. And-”
“Stop,” Michael interjects, and the forceful side of his returns as he’s grabbing the lapels of his suit and hauls Erwin towards him once again, kissing him, pressing his lips against his with all his strength for what feels like ages. And when he lets go of Erwin again, he looks him deep into the eyes. “You’re not a blob, oh my fucking God, Erwin. You’re the sexiest man alive and whenever I jerk off—and trust me, I do that a lot...—I think about you. And only you. You are my number one wanking material,” he teases sassily, and Erwin can’t help but grin, the emotions in his chest clashing and fighting against each other.
“I’m not hot. Not anymore.”
“Oh, bull crap…!”
“Mike…”
“Erwin.” Mike’s hand wanders to Erwin’s thigh, squeezing it in a reassuring and at the same time calming fashion. “Cut yourself some slack, man,” he says, “you’ve been working so hard, you got so far, fuck, you’re department chief and the CEO’s right-hand man, but you overdo it and you forget to take care of yourself. And you forget how freaking handsome you are. With that sharp jaw of yours, and the piercing blue eyes, your perfectly trimmed eyebrows, those kissable lips that, by the way, would look lovely draped around my cock, as I mentioned before…” he teases gently, sultry, tucking a loose strand of Erwin’s hair behind his ear.
“My hair is falling out.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s turning fucking white.”
“And do you know just how sexy those single grey strands make you look?” Michael purrs. “You’re, very slowly, turning into a silver fox and it’s making me go into rut,” he adds, imitating an animalistic, quick growl; and Erwin can’t stop himself from huffing out another short laugh.
“Micheal,” he chastises him gently, but Michael just grins, leans forward and captures Erwin’s lips in another soft kiss.
“Fucking sexy,” he whispers.
“You think my belly is sexy?” Erwin comments sceptically.
“This one right here?” Michael asks, his hand going for Erwin’s dress shirt, pulling it out of his pants despite the blond man’s protests, to slide his hand under the fabric, touching Erwin’s skin; and his weakest point.
“Don’t,” he whispers, trying to push Mike’s hand away. But Michael doesn’t let him.
“Please,” Michael almost whimpers; and it’s that longing, that slight hurt in his husband’s voice, that makes Erwin stop. “Please let me touch you, Erwin. I miss you...! And you feel so good darling. I’m still so in love with you, and I can’t understand why your brilliant mind won’t get that.”
Erwin hesitates, the emotions swirling in his chest gaining intensity, warmth spreading in his body; for his husband’s words, all of Michael’s flattering remarks—his confessions of love—get to him. Touch him, start melting him from the inside, start making him feel… cherished. And his fingers wrapped around Mike’s wrist that were trying to shove his hand away, let loose.
“Michael…”
“Yes, Erwin?” his husband teases him gently, moving his own fingers over Erwin’s stomach that isn’t hard and muscled like his husband’s, but Mike really doesn’t seem to mind, stroking Erwin gently. And Erwin has to admit that Michael’s hand on his bare skin feels… good. But-
“Do you really find me attractive?”
“Would I be so desperate to get into your pants if I didn’t?”
Once more, his husband has him chuckling, with his charming, flirtatious remarks that instantly come out of his mouth, and Erwin sighs.
“Really?”
“Really really.”
“I don’t believe you,” Erwin mumbles nonetheless. Because he’s really good at self-loathing. And his comment has Michael groaning in frustration. But he’s also still smiling.
“Then how about I prove to you just how fucking much I want to get into your pants because I think you’re super fucking hot, hm?” he states, letting go of the other blond completely to let the engine roar back to life.
And after just five minutes he parks the car at the slightly dimmed car park at the beginning of the popular hiking track, and Erwin is pretty much glad that there is no other car around. Because who of a sane mind would be here at this time of the day, or rather late evening?
The engine of their car dies down again. And when it does, Michael gets out of the vehicle, and Erwin watches him circle it around the front, taking big and confident, taking hurried steps to reach the passenger door, Erwin’s door. He rips it open and then pushes Erwin’s seat, with the blond in it, back, as far as it goes, letting down the backrest too; and Erwin’s heart jumps wildly with every movement and starts to nearly vibrate when he sees that Michael, not caring about his surroundings at all, unbuttons his pants while he kicks off his shoes, throwing them onto the backseat after which he takes off his trousers—and his boxer briefs too.
His massive cock springs free, almost completely erect already, and Erwin cannot deny that warm lust that, unexpectedly, starts to pool in his belly upon that impressive and very arousing sight. Michael’s not only taller than Erwin, he is also the more generously endowed of the two men, his prick framed by dark golden locks forming an appetizing bush, near perfect; from the uniform thickness of his shaft to the voluptuous curve of the moist glans, exposing themselves as Michael’s sex grows under Erwin’s gaze, the wind of the upcoming autumn night brushing over the man’s meat.
Snatching the bottle of lube from Erwin’s hand, Michael squeezes himself into the car, pulling the door shut again, and the inner light goes out as he climbs on top of Erwin, straddling him, diving down to capture Erwin’s mouth in a very filthy snog; and, surprisingly again, Erwin’s own dick jumps at the sensation of Michael’s lips and tongue pressed against his. Of his husband—bottomless—on his lap. Michael’s big and heated hand on his neck. And when Michael actually pops the bottle of lube open, coats one of his fingers with it and Erwin watches his hand disappear behind him—sliding into his own ass—Erwin nearly loses it. And all of those negative, those deprecating burrito-thoughts vanish. They burst like a balloon as his husband—who actually prefers to top—fingers himself while kissing Erwin like a madman.
And Erwin grows hard.
After so many months denying himself any sort of sexual fantasy and act, after months of being exhausted, stressed and frustrated with his looks and limp, Erwin’s as hard as marble, and one of his hands reaches for Michael’s hard dick, the other raking into the blond hair while his tongue responds to Mike’s and he is kissing back fervently.
The car seat is way too small for them. It’s cramped. And almost a bit too warm despite the temperatures around them falling. And even though they are in public, and any car pulling in here could see them if their lights hit them at the right angle, Erwin cannot find himself caring about that. He should—after all, the mere thought of having sex outside the safety of their home or a hotel room terrified him, but-
But he’s a man too.
And just like Michael, even though he didn’t want to admit, he suffered from his self-imposed sex ban.
He’s pent up. Just like Mike is, moaning and groaning into Erwin’s mouth as he keeps fingering himself, suddenly breaking their wild and wanton kiss that’s gotten totally out of control and which Erwin would—most definitely—describe as close to disgusting.
“Take your dick out,” Michael instructs him, and a crass shiver snakes itself down Erwin’s spine. And despite not ever wanting to have car sex, despite the prevalent fear of some idiot deciding to go for a late night run or whatever, he obeys. And when he frees his own cock and Mike grabs his dick, Erwin throws his head back and releases the longest and loudest sound of lust he has ever let out.
“Fuck yeah,” Michael reciprocates full of content and want and playfullness, silencing Erwin as he pushes his mouth back onto his husband’s, reconnecting their tongues, moaning into his husband’s cavity as he keeps opening himself up, circling his hips and moving his cock within his husband’s renewd clasp; and Erwin can’t help but grab the large man’s wide and muscled, hairy thigh with his other hand, to feel all the hot flesh and skin under his palm, squeezing and stroking and scratching because he is so aroused and so filled with joy that this man, this handsome hunk so many people fancy, is aroused because of him .
“I’m ready for you, hot piece,” Michael breathes against Erwin’s mouth moving up on the seat, his large form, and mostly his head, pushing against the padded roof of the vehicle as he positions himself, as he positions his ass right above Erwin’s hot prick that the blond businessman has coated with lubricant with trembling fingers. And when Michael sinks down on him, and the hot tightness of his ass engulfs Erwin’s cock, the latter screams out in pleasure, his outcry only muffled by Michael’s big mouth moving over Erwin’s; pushing his own, guttural groan down Erwin’s throat as Michael’s ass meets Erwin’s thighs and swallows his prick wholly.
Michael circles his hips, riding Erwin, making the whole fucking car shake, cursing when his head bumps against the roof, his hands undoing Erwin’s shirt, fondling with his chest and nipples while Erwin strokes his husband’s dangling cock, the cockpit of their Mercedes filled with pants and groans, with moans and grunts, filled with high-pitched squeaks and curses.
And it doesn’t take long for Erwin to trip over the edge, to spill his semen in his husband’s smoldering, tight ass that keeps sucking him into his depth; and Michael’s body, that muscled, hard, sexy body of a man on top of him, under his touch, writhing and trembling as the giant fucks himself on his prick—it’s just too much. And Erwin’s legs go weak as all the dams break and the arousal shoots out of him in the form of thick and sticky seed.
“Shit, shit, shiiiit, ohhhh…”
Michael plants his lips onto Erwin’s when the last waves of the latter’s orgams storm through his body, making his thighs and abdomen clench and unclench, making his whole body quiver. And then, Michael wraps his hand around his cock, around Erwin’s still holding on to the monster cock of his spouse, and he starts stroking himself for real, using Erwin’s hand as a living masturbator toy; and just a few seconds later, he comes too. With an earth-shattering, a ground-breaking, guttural grunt, whacking his head against the car roof, vile curses mingling with his masculine song of pleasure. And Erwin can’t help but chuckle, while also feeling absolute, sexual bliss and happiness. As well as pride.
Because, in a way, it was him who gave his husband this pleasure.
It was his cock the man practically came on.
And it’s his suit and his chest that is full of Michaels’s thick cum, and it’s his mouth that the sexy giant is claiming with his lips and tongue and his saliva.
“God,” Michael groans, the satisfaction evident in his deep tone, in his smile which he is offering to his husband while cupping his cheek, “you are so fucking sexy and I really, really, really needed that…”
And Erwin can’t help but be honest.
“Me too,” he says—and they kiss again.
And he can’t believe that he did it: He had sex in a car. In a public parking lot. What the hell. He can’t stop grinning like an idiot when Michael drives them home, holding his hand the whole ride as if they had just become a couple. When they have been married for twenty fucking years.
They open that bottle of wine Michael had been saving and he reheats the delicious meal he has cooked for them, and Erwin apologizes again and again for having forgotten the time while working and leaving Mike hanging again, promising to be better. While Michael promises to tell Erwin more often how alluring he is in his eyes. And so he tells Erwin now over and over again how sexy he finds him, how attractive; how beautiful Micheal thinks he is despite that silly weight gain.
And he shows him too.
Takes Erwin apart under the shower, fingering him for what feels like hours, relentlessly hitting his prostate. With his large fingers at first and later, with his engorged cock. Sucking him off under the water, taking him on their bed, the place Erwin feels the most confident in, with lit scented candles and their anniversary playlist they both have been feeding regularly, making Erwin scream and moan and whine and wince and claw at Michael’s back.
“Please take some time off work,” Michael murmurs as they lay naked in bed between the crumpled sheets, drinking some more wine; and for once, Erwin is not self-conscious about his body. He doesn’t care about it. He only savours how his naked skin is pressed against Michael's naked skin. How their bodies are still sticking together. How Mike is holding him in his embrace. “We could really use some couple time. Please.”
“Yeah,” Erwin instantly agrees. Because Michael is right. “Why don’t we do something like a second honeymoon?”
“That would be awesome, my lovely burrito.”
Erwin’s words remain stuck in his throat. “What did you just call me?”
Michael laughs and kisses Erwin’s cheek. And once again, Erwin cannot help but laugh too. But when Michael serves them self-made burritos for their next wedding anniversary, Erwin takes off one of his slippers and whacks it across the large blond’s head, chasing him through their home, while the giant laughs.
And so does Erwin.
Because he really loves this idiot.
And the burrito is absolutely fantastic.
END