Work Text:
There couldn't be a worse day for this to happen.
There couldn't be a more convenient place for her to stop. To break down literally right outside of a mechanics shop, now that is some sort of fate. She ended up at Bridgerton Auto Shop. One of three shops in this entire small town.
"So…." He awkwardly starts, "What exactly seems to be the issue here, sweetheart?"
God, he's so…dirty. His arms are covered in grease, smeared all the way up to his shoulder. He can barely wipe his hands clean with the blue cloth. His hair? It's greasy. Probably from all heat and well, being under all the cars that are here.
"Uh—I can barely get her to start lately," Penelope mutters. "There is this awful screeching when I get her to start. If I keep trying, eventually it starts. I'm sorry, I don't really know a ton about cars."
He continues to wipe the cloth up his arms, turning to the yellow car. Then back at her—at least if she had to breakdown somewhere today. It's next to a really good looking mechanic. It could be worse. It could be some guy, who'd just pressure her into getting things she didn't need. But him… he seems…sweet in a way.
"Let's take a look under the hood," he says.
He moves over to the front of the car. Reaching his hand under to pop the hood open, it pops open a thousand times easier than when she has ever done it. God, it probably has to do with the muscles in his arms. She watches him as he reaches his not-so-clean hands down by the engine.
"Are you from around here?" he questions, continuing to look down. "It's a smaller town, I see a lot of people come through here. I don't think I've ever seen you here before."
No—she isn't from around here. Well, not really. Her mother had recently re-married and moved to this town. In the middle of nowhere, she might add.
Shaking her head, she starts. "I am not from around here," she says. "I'm here visiting some family."
He doesn't say much, his hands continue to work on something inside the chassis of the car. She watches him, how he goes from one thing to another. Slowly, she follows the grease up his arm to a name tag on his shirt. Colin, must be his name. Or maybe he took the shirt from one of his co-workers.
"Come on over here," he motions toward her. "I can show you what's causing the screeching when you start her up."
Slowly, she steps toward him. Leaning just enough inside so that she can see the engine. His eyes flick over to her, giving her a light smile.
"You're gonna need to get closer, sweetheart," he grins. "You're not gonna see much over there."
She puts her hands against the pink of her skirt, shuffling closer to him. Close enough to need to bend over to see exactly what he's pointing at. His hand is near a rubber belt that is wrapping tightly around some kind of circular metal. His other hand is…somewhere else. Deeper into the chassis. She leans in closer, her skirt slowly riding up the back of her thighs. Until she feels a breeze—oh. Her panties are practically out, she pulls the back of her skirt down.
His eyes stay on her, as he points to the belt. "This is what's causing it," he says. "Every time you start up, the squeals are from the belt being too worn out."
Swallowing hard, she speaks. "Is—is that bad?" she questions. "I'm not sure what that means."
"It's not bad," he says. "Means it's probably time to replace the belt. How long have you had her for?"
She can feel his eyes on her, as she continues to adjust herself. Watching and leaning back slightly as she leans against the front a little more. Honestly, it's hard to pinpoint exactly when she had gotten this bug. It had been a few years, she saved up about half of the money and the other half was…a surprise from her dad. But she'd paid a mechanic who said they knew enough about classic cars to fix it.
"About three…maybe four years," Penelope replies. "I've done my best to keep up on the maintenance, pay for anything that is needed."
"When was the last time, you know, you paid to have her maintained?" he questions.
It had been maybe sometime last year—before the big road trip she had taken across country. Once when she had gotten home, but…she doesn't think that it's been since then. The mechanic she pays back home has assured her she doesn't need to do it as often as others have suggested before.
"Maybe a year ago," she mutters.
"Well," he starts, wiping his greasy hands onto his jeans. "You've done a wonderful job taking care of her. Probably best if you let me take extra special attention to her. She's real delicate, you know? Gotta get deep inside here and access things properly, make sure it's smooth."
The way he pays perfect attention to what he's looking at inside, it makes her blush. The way he's talking—it's like dirty talk. God, what's wrong with her? She backs up, tugging down her skirt to lay flat against her thighs.
"How much do you think it'll all cost?" Penelope asks. "I'm only here visiting…I'd like to figure it all out."
"Don't worry about that," he replies. "Before I forget, I gotta check one more thing."
His hand goes to a orange handle. pulling it out. It's covered in oil, well, what she thinks might be oil. Reaching into the back of his jeans, he pulls out an already dirty white rag. Wiping the stick off. Carefully, he dips it back in, pulling it back out to see something.
"She's pretty thirsty," he says, putting the stick back in. "Looks like I need some fresh oil. I'll make sure I fill her up good, get her all slick again."
Swallowing hard, she gives him a smile. "Is there anything else you can see?"
Standing on her tip toes, she watches his hands go through the chassis. Looking at things around the battery. Making sure to look at the belt one last time.
"I think most of this is just maintenance," he admits. "I'm going to keep her for a few days, got some other work in the shop that needs to get done first. Do you have a ride home?"
Um—maybe? Chances are that she could get her phone out, call her mother. Her sisters are probably shopping a few streets over at the mall. She gives him a quick nod, as he begins to write something down on a clipboard.
"Are you—um—sure you can fit this in?" Penelope asks, walking toward the garage door. "I don't want to be a burden, to be honest."
"Of course, that's what I'm here for sweetheart," he grins. "Plus, I like to take care of things that need the extra attention."
Ripping the piece of paper off of the clipboard, he hands it to her. It's mostly a list of what needs to be done to the car. An "un-official" one it says at the top of the paper. The oil is smudged on the top of the paper as he hands it to her, wiping his hands on that rag once more.
"Give this to my sister," he says, "She's in the office. Make sure to leave your name and number, need to make sure I can call you."
"Thank you," Penelope murmurs. "Seriously, I can't thank you enough for this."
"No problem, sweetheart," he smiles, pointing toward the office. "Make sure you give it to her, alright?"
Nodding her head, Penelope turns to walk away. Stepping past all the tools that are settled by the door. Out of pure curiosity, she turns her head back to him. He's leaning against her car—his eyes following her—looking at her legs as she walks toward the office.
Is—is he watching her?
-`♡´-
It had been a few days—well, that is generous.
It’s been almost a week. Penelope had, of course, called a few times to check up. Only for the younger girl on the other line to explain that it's summer time. Between fixing the few bikes they were behind on and something about a mini-van that had been in an accident, it was going to take a while. She finally got the phone call that her car is ready a couple days later.
As she walks up to the shop, she sees her bug sitting patiently. The hood is still propped open, and Colin—she did confirm that is actually his name—is still working on it. But—but—the girl said that he was finished. Finished sometime yesterday morning, that all the paperwork got completed today.
"Colin?" Penelope quietly comes out, putting her hands into her pockets. "Is—is everything okay?"
Quickly, his hands come up from in the hood. Fingers rubbing the side of his face, causing grease to smear against his skin. He gives her a polite smile before he wipes his hands off onto his shirt.
"I was just making sure everything was alright," Colin says, smiling. "These old cars, one loose thing and you'll be back here in a week. Can't let you get stranded now, can we?"
No, she supposed not. If she got stranded, she'd have to pay for a tow truck. She somehow managed getting the car over to this place. She's not even sure if she can really afford the repairs right now. Over eleven hundred dollars to fix everything, she can't imagine how it would be if she broke down and needed a tow.
"Your sister, I think that's who it was, she had said you finished everything up yesterday."
Nodding his head, Colin closes the hood of the car with a loud slam. Reaching into his pocket and grabbing the keys to hand her. Everything has to be fine, right? If he’s closing up the hood…she's over thinking it.
"She's good as new," he replies. "If she starts making those noises again while you're in town, I put my card in the glove."
Penelope takes the keys from his hands, watching as he leans on the hood. She can't believe she is thinking this—really—but there is something about him. It's probably how sweet he's been or the smile on his face. She can trust him, he's a mechanic after all. He hasn't tried to get her to do some random upgrade or service she doesn't exactly need.
"Thank you," she mumbles. "About the bill—is there anyway that I can—"
"It's taken care of," Colin states, going back to his tools. "You don't have to worry about it."
Is he…serious right now? He did eleven hundred dollars worth of work and he simply took care of the bill? This has to be some kind of joke or he wants something in return. There is no way that he's just that nice.
"It's fine, I can pay I just need a day to—"
Cutting her off, he smiles once more. "It's taken care of, sweetheart. Only this one time though, these cute things always find a way to come back in the shop."
He walks over to the door of that yellow bug and opens it. Motioning for her to come over. Uh—wow. It's shocking, he's so nice that he'd just do that for her. Slowly, she steps to the door. She feels his hand touch her lower back. His fingers drift as she stands there with him, until his fingers are right on the strings of her thong. Snapping them against her skin.
"I'll see you soon," Colin whispers.
Like that, he walks off. Picking up a wrench from the floor, looking back at her enough to give her a wink. Did she…did she like that?
-`♡´-
Exactly eight days later, the car gives literally the worst sound at start up—again. It happens when she's coming out of her friends house that she had stopped by to visit.
Fucking.
Fuck.
Fucck.
How is this even possible? For eight whole days, the car has run literally perfect. When she stops at red lights, it doesn't make that sound anymore. When she hits the break, the squeal has stopped. Now, today, it suddenly decides to make this again. Somehow, without a tow truck—Thank god—she makes it to the shop in one piece.
Penelope steps out of the car, and lets out a loud sigh as she gets out. She can see Colin working on a truck. His eyes are right on her, grease on his forehead and on his jaw. The white tank top that he's wearing is barely even white anymore. His faded jeans have holes in them, not like the ones he had worn before.
"I—fuck—" Penelope mumbles, walking toward him. "I don't even know what happened, I was coming out of a friend’s house and then the noise…"
Setting the wrench socket down, Colin starts to walk over to the car. Not even bothering to wipe the grease off his hands—not like the rag will even take any of that off of him.
"I expected you to at least be back a few days ago," Colin grins. "I told you, anything that knocks these babies around, they'll start misbehaving."
He did say that before and now she's here, in front of the shop once more. Jesus, is she really trying to accuse him of messing with her car to get her back here? There's no way that anyone would do such a thing.
"Do you think that's what it is?" Penelope asks. "I—I really don't want to trouble you with all this."
She watches as he stops, right as he is going to grab her keys. His eyes look down to her blue denim mini skirt. They continue up to her black off the shoulder shirt, that happens to be showing the perfect amount of cleavage. Well, in her opinion.
Biting his lip, he puts the wrench down. "Jesus baby…you are looking real good today."
Baby—that's new. It's different, he barely knows her. Only called her by her first name the second time she called to check on her car. But she likes it, and god, she likes how he talks to her. His fingers swipe against his shirt as he stands next to her. She can smell the sweat on him as his fingers trail up her thigh.
It leaves behind a few streaks of brown on her thigh as he tugs on the bottom of her skirt. The way he's touching her, it should bother her. Shouldn't it? His hand lingers for a moment before he lets go.
"Makes a man forget how he's supposed to behave himself."
"I—I," she stutters. "Thank you."
Quickly, her eyes look down. Right at the cracks in the concrete. She's one hundred percent sure he can see exactly how red her cheeks are and how desperately she is trying to not rub her thighs together. But, God, she can't look at him. It'll just make it worse. The sound of his boots on the concrete is all she hears before the pop of the hood. Looking up, she sees him looking down into the chassis.
"Can you head over there—" Colin says, pointing to the garage. "There is a tool box right around the edge of the door. Can you bring it over here?"
Honestly, she is glad to do anything. Anything but stand next to him and think about his dirty hands back on her thigh. Walking to the garage, she grabs the nearest tool box, struggling to carry it over to him. Setting it down in front of him, she tries—tries is the key word—to keep her eyes off of him.
But once he grabs the tools and starts to get to work…she just can't. She glances up, watching as he reaches down. That dingy white tank top on him is riding up his stomach slightly. Just enough that she can see his muscles and the happy trail that his jeans cut off.
"Jesus," he curses under his breath. "She's so tight, gotta make sure to treat her good. Open her up nice and easy."
Oh—fuck. The way he is with words, no matter how disgusting they are. Somehow, they manage to get to her and turn her on. But…it's just about the job. All mechanics obviously talk like this, right? It's totally normal. She shouldn't over think this entire thing.
Pulling his arm completely out, he wipes his forehead, dirt smudging on the spot he swipes. Turning his head, he looks straight at her. "So, sweetheart, do you have plans after this? Or are you free for me?"
Free? For him? What does that even mean?
"I was with some friends," Penelope replies. "I needed to stop by the store to get some things to bake with."
"Baking?" he questions, turning back to the bug. "Is that something you do often?"
"It's a hobby," she mutters. "Wouldn't say I do it often."
"I imagine you all pretty like this in your kitchen," he grins. "Getting all messy, hands covered in something sticky. I bet you'd like to lick it off your fingers, wouldn't you?"
Her mouth drops open. She's practically frozen, because what—what did he just say? Well, obviously she heard him. That huge grin that spread across his face is enough to know that he definitely meant it. But a second later, it's like he didn't even say it. When, God, she knows that he did. The hood suddenly falls down with a large smack as he starts to wipe his hands.
"You're all taken care of," Colin says. "It was just something minor lose, nothing to really worry about."
"Thank you," she responds. "I know you helped me last time, how much do I owe you?"
He bends down next to her, his arm brushing lightly against her upper thigh as he grabs his tool box. He stands up to walk back into the garage, quickly getting back to what he had been working on before.
"This one is my treat, promise," he says as he walks away. "But come back soon, I got a feeling I'm really gonna miss the view."
-`♡´-
Penelope knows that there is something wrong with her.
Tonight, of all nights, it has become painfully obvious. She shouldn't be going back—there is literally nothing wrong with the car. It's ran fine since he fixed it five days ago, but now she's parked outside. Waiting to see him step out into the garage.
Quickly, she sees Colin, stepping outside of the office doors back into the garage by the workbench. His T-shirt has that dark ring around the collar like he's been sweaty from today's long hours in the heat. This is her chance, probably her only one for the night. Especially since it's taken this fucking long to work up the courage.
Her hand goes to the flimsy handle, which she's been meaning to get fixed. She steps out of the car and closes it quietly. Maybe this will give her enough time to surprise him? With a plastic container in her hand, she finally gets to the door.
"Hey," She calls out, watching him stop moving. "I hope I didn't come before you were leaving for the night. I made you something, since you've been so helpful with…you know."
Slowly, he turns around, giving her a big smile. Colin steps away from the bench, walking to her. Fuck, he is…so tall. Maybe she's never really noticed until she's wanted him this close. But compared to her, he is just so—his hand takes the plastic. Setting it down on the workbench behind him.
"That's real nice of you, baby," Colin mutters, stepping closer to her. "But, as much as I love a good dessert. I think I'm looking to have something far sweeter than cookies."
"Sweeter?" Penelope raises a brow. "I can promise you, I put plenty of sugar in those—"
"No," Colin cuts her off. "I'm not looking for that. I'm talking about the sweet taste of your pretty cunt between your legs. The one that's been dying at how I've been talking to you."
Did he just…? Did he just say something about her cunt? Her eyes go wide as she tries, attempts to, understand. There is no way that he just said that.
"I—I—" she stammers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't?" He asks, this greasy hands of his slowly inching up her dress. "Are you going to tell me you haven't gotten all worked up with how I talk to you? That you don't think about me bending you over on that pretty car of yours?"
Well, technically, she has thought of him—mostly about how he is somehow absolutely disgusting and really attractive at the same time. It's…weird, if she's being completely honest with herself, but this isn't something she'd admit.
"I have," he continues. "I have been so fucking hard. I jerk off in the backroom thinking about bending you over that pretty yellow car."
"J-jerking off?"
"Fuck," Colin curses. "I have been dreaming about how your pretty cunt smells when I get you all worked up."
Him? Getting her all worked up? What does he mean—before she can even gather the rest of her thoughts. He drops down to his knees, shoving her dress up her legs. She can feel it, like actually feel, how soaked her thong is.
"Wait—wait," she tries to stop him. "Are you crazy? Anyone could walk by and see this?"
"Let them see me," he bites her thighs. "It might show them how a real man loves to eat pussy."
His greasy fingers hook the string of her thong and pulls them down. The wetness clinging to them as she steps out of them. Looking down at him, she watches him ball them up. And—Oh, oh—he presses them to his face. He inhales them in with a loud, a very loud, moan.
"Fuck," he groans. "Hope you know, I'm keeping these. Gonna wrap them so tight around my cock later and make myself cum."
He's…he's keeping them? Her used panties?
"You're going to keep them?" she questions. "Like actually keep them? Don't you think that’s a little dirty?"
"It's real dirty, don't you think?" He smirks at her. "And you like it, don't you? Just how dirty I am?"
Yes—no—yes. It's a weird back and forth. No, she doesn't like that he is literally covered in dirt. But he's…hot. Not just in that he's a dirty talker way. But he's an attractive man—his strong hands spread her wide. He doesn't waste a second, his mouth seals over her clit and sucks hard. Pushing her back into the old car, as her hands try to find something, anything to hold onto.
"Colin—" she moans, "Oh my god."
He hums against her, his tongue dragging slowly from her clit to her dripping hole. Her fingers find his greasy hair. God, it's hard to hold onto, but she needs something as his tongue flicks over her clit once again.
"Fuck," she cries. "Fuck—fuck."
His eyes are rolling back as she cries out. His tongue dips into her dripping entrance, fucking her with it. Until she's pushing him back—she's trying, very unsuccessfully to get him back where she wants. He is practically drinking her, she can feel the wetness running down her thighs. Enough that it's wetting his dirty shirt more than it already was.
"Please," Penelope begs. "Just—please."
She'll do anything—anything to get him back to where he was. His mouth is back on her clit. Doing these small circles that are driving her insane. Sure, she's been with guys, but she's never been with a man that is this good at this. His mouth, God, it's so good. It's back to sucking on her overly sensitive clit.
Making her babble words that she doesn't really even know. Lots of pleases, yeses, enough to watch his eyes roll back with every praise he gets. He starts to roll her clit with his tongue until she's really trying to push his head away. Suddenly, she's cumming. Her fingers digging so hard into his hair, she can feel the grease on her fingers.
His arms are wrapped so tight around her thighs as his face is buried in her cunt. She can't even think straight—think about what she's doing. Out in the open, with a man who she barely knows eating her pussy.
"God," he growls into her leg, "Do you feel how wet you are? That is that pretty pussy of yours begging for what she needs."
Begging? She isn't exactly beg—and his mouth is back on her clit. Her hands gently try to push him off. But he doesn't budge, he keeps sucking on her clit. She is so sensitive, she can feel the pulsing as he sucks harder. Oh—fuck. There is a little gush, that soaks his shirt. She's…never done that before. Not even by herself.
"Stop—" she whines. "Colin, fuck!"
Pinning her harder against the car, his tongue keeps flicking her sensitive clit. God, she knows he doesn't care how overstimulated she is. That each swipe of his tongue is about to make her cum again. He really doesn't care how her thighs are pressed so hard to his ears, he might not even be breathing.
She can't even fight this. She bites down on her lower lip, trying to muffle her cries. As his tongue drags from her dripping entrance back to her clit. His eyes finally meet hers, her legs are shaking around his head. Oh—oh. She cums again. Gushing all over his shirt, her hips grinding into his mouth.
After a minute, she finally relaxes. He doesn't waste any time standing up from the ground, his hands going to his belt. Undoing it as fast as he possibly can. His hand goes to her throat as he kisses her. She can taste herself on him. Before she can even kiss him back, he backs up. Her juices still all over his face.
"Turn around," Colin orders. "Gonna bend you over the hood, spread those pretty legs wide. I'm gonna show you what I've been thinking about, fuck this pussy till you're crying for me."
Penelope turns around quickly, bending over the black hood of this old car. Someone else's car, she might add. His dirty hands push her dress up higher and he kicks her feet wider. Fuck, the thick head of his cock is at her entrance. He drags it up and down her soaked cunt, circling it around her clit enough to tease her.
"Your cunt is so greedy for me," he says. "I won't be able to think about anything else for days."
He takes his time, pushing inside of her one inch at time. Giving her enough time to properly adjust to him. Until she feels the thick head of his cock kiss her cervix. Fuck—he's so big. Bigger than anything she's ever tried to take before.
"Oh god," she whimpers. "You're so big. Fuck, I can feel every vein."
He groans, starting to pull out all the way. Just to slam his big cock right back inside of her. Each time, it hits that sensitive spot, making her nails scratch against the car.
"Jesus," he moans, "This pussy was made for me. She's so tight, wet, and sucking me in like I can't ever leave."
She can feel his hands behind her, spreading her open wider. Everything is on display for him to see, how puffy her cunt is. How she's practically dripping down her thighs. Oh, god. She can feel it, spit drips down from his mouth onto her asshole. His thumb begins to rub the rim of her asshole as he fucks her harder.
"What are you—"
"Shhh baby," he says, rubbing her asshole. "Just keep taking my cock like you were made for it. Be a good girl for me."
The thickness of his cock keep stretching her. Fucking her so hard that he's hitting into her cervix. Each time he hits that sensitive spot, causing her to cry more than moan. Those deep strokes driving him deeper inside of her with each slap of his hips against her.
Then she feels it. Two of his fingers slip into her asshole. That new feeling—his fingers going in and out of her ass. His cock buried so deep inside of her cunt. That drool has started to slip out of the side of her mouth.
"Every time you sit in your car, you're gonna remember how I fucked you against the hood of one," he whispers in her ear. "Won't you? It'll make you think about how I had you drooling and cumming on my cock."
God, all she can do is nod her head and agree with him. As his cock and fingers continue to fuck her. With one deep thrust, she cums. All over him, wetness pouring out of her. Down her thighs.
"Keep squeezing me," he groans. "Fuck, just like that. You're so goddamn tight when you cum."
All you can she manage is to whine. Her face is pressed against the metal and her thighs are shaking. But he doesn't stop, just keeps pounding into her puffy cunt—over and over again. He is groaning, his fingers continuing to fuck her ass as he pounds her pussy. With one last thrust, he pushes as deep as he can. Kissing the sensitive flesh of her cervix with the tip of his cock.
She cums again, her pussy squeezing him. With one last lazy thrust and a loud moan, he cums inside of her. Thick hot spurts of cum filling her insides. Filling her so much that it starts to leak down her legs.
He stays inside her for a moment, taking his fingers out of her ass. Putting them inside of his mouth with a loud suck. Pulling out his cock, she can feel the cum start to drip from her. Fuck—did she just do this? He grabs her waist, helping her stand up. Smoothing down her now dirty dress.
"Next time, you don't have to bring me cookies," he whispers. "You can come back anytime you want. All the maintenance you want, on me."
Penelope nods her head, a little stunned still. "I—um—yes, I will come see you again."
The office phone cuts off any sort of conversation that they could possibly have. Ringing so loud throughout the garage. "Anytime you need me, I'm here. I'll be waiting for you, for you know, car troubles," he winks.
