The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 24

Everyone in this story is 18+

Almost Full Throttle

The room glowed softly with the lights from the Christmas tree outside the window, casting flickering colors on the walls. Connor straddled my lap carefully, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders as his eyes searched mine. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I placed my hands on his hips, squeezing gently. “I’m sure, Conn. I’ve been waiting too long for this. Your hand jobs are great and all. But I want to finally do this. Please.”

He chuckled slighty, then he leaned down, kissing me slowly, deeply, his lips warm against mine. The way he moved was deliberate, his care making the moment feel even more intimate. His tongue traced over my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, and I moaned softly, my grip on his hips tightening just a little. Connor sat up, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “Okay,” he said, almost to himself.

He exhaled shakily, his hands coming up to rest on my waist, pulling me closer as our lips moved together. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, the kind that made everything else disappear. I felt the tension leave his body as he leaned back.

His fingers slipped under my shirt, brushing against my skin, and I shivered at his touch. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with intent.

I nodded, sitting up slightly to let him pull my shirt over my head. He leaned down, trailing kisses along my collarbone, his hands roaming over my chest with a gentleness that sent shivers down my spine. His lips moved lower, ghosting over my ribs, careful not to press too hard on the tender areas.

“Connor,” I murmured, my hands finding his hair and threading through the soft strands as he continued his slow descent. He kissed his way down my stomach, his lips warm against my skin, until he reached the waistband of my pants.

“Relax,” he said, glancing up at me with a small, teasing smile before unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them down, along with my boxers, in one smooth motion. My glistening cock sprang free, hard and aching, and his breath hitched as he looked at me.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered before leaning down and taking all of me into his mouth.

I gasped, my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue swirled around my tip. He moved slowly at first, his lips sliding down my dick, taking me deeper with every motion. His hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with his mouth over my cock head as he worked me over. I couldn’t stop the sounds escaping me, my hips bucking slightly as the heat built inside me.

“Connor, fuck… that feels amazing,” I groaned, my fingers tightening in his hair.

He pulled back just enough to smirk up at me, his lips slick and swollen. “I’m just getting started.”

His tongue flicked against my balls, licking and teasing them before he sucked one gently into his mouth. The sensation sent a jolt through me, my whole body tensing as he moved back to my cock, taking me as deep as he could.

I was close, the pleasure building to an unbearable point, but Connor pulled back before I could lose control. “Not yet,” he said, his voice husky. “I want to feel you inside me too.” Then he reached over to grab the lube from the nightstand. He squeezed some onto his fingers, his movements confident but tender as he worked it between his hands.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, glancing at me for reassurance.

“You can take your time,” I replied, my voice rough with anticipation.

He reached behind himself, his fingers slick and careful as he prepared, his breaths hitching with each movement. My heart pounded as I watched him, the sight of him like this—open, vulnerable, yet completely in control—sending a rush of heat through me.

When he was ready, he positioned himself over me, guiding my achingly hard dick to his wanting hole. His hands rested on my chest as he slowly lowered himself down, his head tilting back as my dick slid inside him inch by inch. The tight heat of him was overwhelming, and I fought to keep my breathing steady, my fingers gripping his thighs to ground myself.

“Fuck, Ryder,” Connor gasped, his voice trembling as he adjusted to the stretch. “You’re so… big.”

I couldn’t form words, the sensation of me being buried inside him stealing every coherent thought. “Connor,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “You feel… amazing.”

He smiled down at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite the softness of the moment. Slowly, he began to move, his hips rolling gently as he found a rhythm that worked for both of us. My hands roamed over his thighs and up to his waist, savoring the way his body moved above me.

Connor was mesmerizing, his back arching slightly as he rode me with a mix of grace and careful determination. He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the bed for balance, and I felt him clench around me, sending a shiver up my and down my spine.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of our shared breaths.

He bit his lip, his movements growing more fluid, more confident, as he chased his own pleasure. One of his hands slid down to stroke himself, his fingers working in time with the rise and fall of his hips. The sight was enough to make my heart race, but I held back, not wanting the moment to end too soon.

Connor’s breaths came faster, his movements still careful but guided as he tipped over the edge. With a cry, his body tensed, and he came, hot and thick over my stomach, his cum glistening in the dim light, I took a finger and tasted him. How cum could taste this good was still a mystery to me.

The sight of him, undone and beautiful, pushed me to the brink. He collapsed against me, his hands bracing my shoulders as he whispered, “Let go, Ryder it’s your turn. Cum for me.”

I groaned, my hips bucking instinctively as the pleasure overtook me. My release surged through me, hot and overwhelming, as my dick spilled inside him. Connor stayed still, his arms wrapped around me as he gently rode out the aftershocks.

When it was over, he slid off me carefully, lying beside me with his head on arm. “You okay?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my side.

“Better than okay,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his hair. “And you?”

He smiled against my skin. “Satisfied. And proud. You really didn’t lose it too fast this time.”

I laughed weakly, my ribs protesting the motion. “Guess I finally graduated, huh?”

Connor tilted his head to look at me, his blue eyes sparkling. “Top of the class.”

After cleaning up, Connor lay back against me, his head resting on my arm as I lazily ran my fingers through his hair.

“So,” I said, breaking the quiet, “you wanna run the shop together? You could be Mrs. Mechanic’s wife.”

Connor’s head shot up, his blue eyes narrowing as he lightly smacked my chest—thankfully avoiding my ribs. “Excuse me? Who says I’m the wife?”

I smirked. “Oh, come on.”

He leaned closer, his face hovering inches from mine, his voice dropping. “Let’s get something straight. You’re my bitch, Ryder.”

I grinned, unbothered. “Hell yeah, I am.”

Connor held his serious expression for a beat before breaking into laughter, and I couldn’t help but join him. The tension from everything we’d been through melted away, leaving something lighter behind.

“Lucky you’re cute,” I teased, my laughter fading as I kissed him softly.

“And you’re lucky you’re hot,” He shot back, pulling me closer.

We lay there in the warm glow of the lamp, tangled up in each other, the world outside fading away.

“Crazy couple of weeks,” Connor murmured.

“Crazy’s one way to put it,” I said, wincing slightly at the memory of it all.

Connor tilted his head, looking up at me. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. And I’d do it all over again.”

“Don’t be a martyr, Ry,” he said, though his soft smile betrayed him.

“I’m not. Just saying…” I met his gaze. “You’re worth it.”

His cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head. “For a while, I thought I’d lost you. After… everything with my dad.”

I winced. “I thought I’d blown it. Completely.”

“You did,” Connor said, grinning, “but… you fixed it.”

“Not always,” I admitted. “But I’m trying. I’ll keep trying.”

Connor’s hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin. “You’re not a screw-up, Ry. Not to me.”

I kissed his wrist, warmth flooding through me. “And you’re not as fragile as you think. You handled yourself back there. Even if you are a ‘delicate ballerina.’”

“Don’t push it, grease monkey,” he shot back, but his laughter was light.

As silence settled between us again, Connor’s head found its place on my chest.

“Whatever happens,” he said softly, “with the shop, with school… we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, holding him closer. “Together.”

“Merry Christmas, Conn,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Merry Christmas, Ry,” he replied, his voice warm and steady.