Work Text:
The clanks of metal hitting metal echoed through the large shop, bouncing off the high tin walls and the exposed beams overhead. The place smelled like oil, old gasoline, and hot steel. Old cars, trucks, and motorcycles crowded the concrete floor, some half-taken apart, others buried under tarps and dusty parts. Shelves along the walls sagged under the weight of toolboxes, spare engines, and coffee cans filled with random bolts that Gon swore he’d sort through someday. A radio somewhere on a workbench crackled faintly through static, barely louder than the constant rattle of tools.
In the center of it all, a ’70s OBS truck sat on the lift. The dark green paint shimmered under the harsh white shop lights, though years of use had left thin scratches and small dents along the body. The chrome bumper still caught the light, and the big tires hung just off the ground as the lift held the truck in place. Its hood was propped open, exposing an engine that looked like it had been taken apart and rebuilt more than once.
“Gods damn it,” Gon yelled as he fiddled with something that had taken far too long to try and put back together.
“Well, hello to you too.” Killua stood in the doorway of their house—or rather Gon’s house, the one Killua stayed in alongside him.
“Shit—hey, sorry. This damn thing is giving me a lot of trouble,” Gon explained, wiping his greasy hand across his face.
Killua wandered farther into the shop and dropped into a heavily used old leather lounge chair that sat near the workbench. The chair had clearly been dragged out there years ago and never left. The dark brown leather was cracked and worn from age, the cushions sagging in the middle. Oil stains and grease smudges marked the armrests, and one corner had a small burn where someone had set something hot down without thinking. It gave a tired creak as Killua curled into it, one leg tucked up while he lazily held his drink.
“I thought you were done with Jade,” he said, his tone thick with sarcasm.
Gon finally turned, finishing wiping his hands on a red shop rag that had long since given up on being clean. A once-white tank top clung to his chest, now covered in oil and grease stains that had soaked so deep they would never wash out. His thick work pants were no better—smudged black at the thighs and knees, looking like they’d been used as a rag more often than the rag itself. A streak of grease ran across his cheek where he’d wiped his face earlier.
“Just had to replace something, jerk. Plus, I don’t know why you keep making fun of her name. It’s a very pretty name for a truck,” Gon shot back, tossing the rag onto the nearby workbench.
Behind him, Jade hung on the lift with her hood open, the engine bay still warm from the work Gon had been doing. Tools lay scattered across the bench and floor beneath her, evidence of the hours he’d already spent under that truck. Killua glanced up at it, unimpressed, taking another sip of his drink.
“Mhm,” Killua hummed, watching as Gon started walking over. His heavy boots echoed off the concrete floor with each step.
“Do you want the remote? I’ll probably be in here a while longer—still a few more parts that need replacing,” Gon grumbled as he stopped beside the chair, digging through his pockets. They were full of loose sockets, old bolts, and random bits of metal that clinked together while he searched.
“Naah,” Killua said lazily. “I like watching you work~”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes following Gon’s hands as he sorted through the sockets, holding them up one by one and muttering under his breath while he tried to find the right size. The shop lights caught on the thin sheen of oil on his arms, and every so often another quiet clink echoed when he tossed the wrong socket onto the nearby workbench.
“Okay, baby, whatever you say.” Gon finally found the bolts he’d been looking for and leaned in, reaching toward Killua—but paused when he noticed something.
“You really like watching me work, huh?” Gon taunted, eyes flicking down to a subtle bulge in Killua’s lap.
“Oh, you know… just a little,” Killua replied, chuckling, his gaze locked on Gon’s. “I mean, all the grease and sweat… looks good on you.” There was no hint of shame in his voice.
A glint caught Gon’s eye. “Really? Would be a shame if I turned this into a little show,” he smirked, letting his tone tease.
“What are you trying to say, Freeces?” Killua asked, setting his cup down on the side table, eyes following Gon as he stepped in front of him.
“Just… an idea,” Gon said, though his eyes couldn’t stay off Killua’s. They flicked from his lap back up to his eyes. “What if you… ‘enjoy’ watching me work? Should only take a few minutes.”
Killua’s smirk widened, the playful tension thick in the air. “Oh yeah? That’s an idea I could… get behind.”
“Yeah, but there’s a catch,” Gon added, folding his arms across his chest, watching as Killua’s eyes traced the lines of his thick arms.
“And what would that be?” Killua asked, though his smirk betrayed that he was already bought in.
“You have to wait for me,” Gon said, a sharp, teasing grin spreading across his face. “I get to finish you off.”
Killua’s smirk deepened, a low chuckle escaping him. “Mhm… I should’ve known you’d make it about you,” he murmured, shifting slightly in the worn leather chair, eyes never leaving Gon’s.
“It's my specialty,” Gon winked.
Killua only scoffed at his stupid comment, letting his own hand sink down into his lap and began undoing his belt as Gon stood there watching.
Killua pulled himself out while Gon just smirked, watching Killua slowly stroke himself, knowing he caused that. Killua was all worked up over him.
“You know what? I think I have a few fewer things to do than I thought,” Gon said, turning back to his truck but not before looking over his shoulder and saying, “I love watching how worked up you get over me,” then turning back to his truck and started losing some old rusted bolts.
As one of the bolts finally loosened, it gave with a sharp clink—and a second later oil began spilling out.
“Shit!” Gon yelled as a stream of thick yellow oil ran down from the engine and splashed across his neck and chest. He jerked back, wiping at his face while the oil continued dripping from the truck above.
“Hold on—hold on—” he muttered, scrambling across the shop floor, boots thudding loudly as he looked around for an oil pan. Tools rattled as he shoved things aside on the workbench.
Behind him, Killua let out a quiet laugh from the worn leather chair. “Wow. Real professional work there, Freeces.”
Gon finally grabbed the metal pan and slid it under the truck just as the oil started dripping steadily down. He crouched there for a second, breathing out through his nose before standing back up.
Oil streaked down his neck and soaked into the front of his already ruined tank top, leaving dark stains across the fabric. He wiped a hand through his hair, only managing to smear more grease along his temple.
Killua watched the whole thing unfold, clearly entertained.
Gon noticed.
Slowly, a crooked grin spread across his face.
“Well,” he said, glancing down at the oil running down his chest before looking back at Killua, “since you said you like watching me work…”
He grabbed the edge of his stained tank top and pulled it up just enough to wipe some of the oil from his neck, stretching the thin fabric across his chest for a moment before lifting it over his head and taking it off, exposing oil-soaked chest hairs.
“…figured I’d give you a better view.”
“Jesus, Gon, if you weren't so hot, I would be laughing my ass off right now.” Killua mumbled
“Aw, Killua, don't flatter me,” Gon whined before smirking at the eye roll and small moan that radiated from the silver-haired man.
As Gon worked, Killua's pace only grew. Whines and pleas began to come from Killua. “Gon, please hurry!” “Shit, Gon, please can you just come here for a minute? Just one?” All met with “No, sir.” “You know the deal.”
Killua's gaze drifted down to Gon’s chest, how his arms flexed, how with each silent curse he would run his hand through his hair. All he could think was ‘how good those arms would look around my back holding me as he rammed himself into me’.
“Ugh, shit, that was annoying as all hell.” Gon wiped his hands as he turned.
Killua sat splayed in the chair, a hand covering his flushed face as he stroked himself, staring at Gon, watching, wanting.
“You look like you're almost done, Killua~” Gon taunted, taking that rag and wiping some of the oil off of his chest.
“Shut up and get over here.” Killua's hand muffled his words.
“Can I get a please?”
“Ugh, please, Gon, I need you,” Killua managed to moan out.
Gon walked just so he was about a foot away from Killua's throbbing cock. He watched how it twitched as Killua slowly stroked it, pre-cum lubing his hand's motions.
Gon kneeled at Killua's feet, watching Killua being barely able to hold himself together, moaning and squirming under each one of Gon's breaths that hit his bare cock.
“I think you've been good enough for me,” Gon said with a taunting tone. “What do you think, Killua?”
“Yes, please, Gon, please I've been so good,” Killua called out.
Gon took Killua into his hand before kissing his tip, staring into his eyes and then taking the rest of Killua in.
Killua's hands fell to his sides searching for a place to put them, a place to hold onto, then frantically reaching for Gon's head, grabbing a fistful of greasy black hair, guiding his motions
up down up down
bobbing Gon's head on Killua's needy dick, the tip pushing its way down Gon's throat, making him gag a bit. The soreness was outweighed by how much this turned Gon on, letting Killua use him after he teased him for so long. Tears started to well in his eyes as Killua pushed deeper, needing more of Gon, more of that smart mouth choking on him.
“Ugh, shit, Gon—gods you feel good.” Killua's head lolled back onto the chair, unable to keep himself together. The only part that moved with ease at the moment was his hands and his hips bucking roughly into Gon.
That heat that he had been fighting since he walked into the garage finally started to boil over. It felt like a wave of warmth running over him, a tight coil that he hadn't known was there snapped, a loud moan followed by a gasped escaped him. His shoulders relaxed, unknowingly trapping Gon's slender fingers, not letting him slide away.
A hand slapped his thigh frantically, making Killua come to realize what happened. “Shit, sorry, Gon!” Gon was gagging and couldn't pull away.
Gon gasped, trying to catch his breath as a white sticky drool slid down his chin. “Shit—ugh, you're good,” he said, looking up through teary eyes.
“Sorry… I was, uh… a little caught up in the moment,” Killua chuckled, still slouched deep in the worn leather chair. His head lolled back against the cushions as he slowly came back to himself.
“It’s okay, baby,” Gon said, wiping his face with the rag before tossing it onto the workbench. “You want some food? I’m starving.”
“Yeah… sure. Just give me a minute,” Killua replied, his head still resting back on his shoulders as he stretched slightly.
Gon stepped closer, leaning over the chair so his voice brushed against Killua’s ear.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” he whispered.
He pressed a quick kiss to Killua’s lips before straightening up.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Gon added with a wink as he turned and headed toward the door leading into the house.
Behind him, Killua let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair as he watched Gon disappear inside.
“Yeah… figured you would be,” he muttered to himself, finally pushing himself up from the chair.