Chapter 5

Let No Drop of Sauce be Wasted

"You could have warned me to call ahead and avoid the chaos," Maddox declared as he entered the shop with enough food to feed a family of six, but damn it all, if Haven couldn't be bothered to pause for a proper lunchbreak, then Maddox was going to stock the shop fridge, so he'd have no excuse for going hungry.

He got what the issue was though and knew how difficult it could be to go from having a routine, order and someone carefully monitoring what you did, to being on your own and having to figure that shit out for yourself. If he could make the transition easier for Haven while also getting to know the man better, then it was a bonus in his book and worth some of the stress that went along with not having his bike to take off on when his head was a mess.

"No, I couldn't," Haven declared. "You'd have hung over my shoulder the whole time I was working, distracting the hell out of me and making it so nothing got done."

"There could be some truth to that."

"Could be?"

Maddox chuckled. "What can I say, I like watching you work."

"No, you like making sure I'm focused on getting your ride back on the road sooner rather than later. I'm not sure that's the same thing."

"The two go hand in hand in my book."

"Uh huh," Haven grumbled. "Something tells me that book of yours is constantly in flux and forever being rewritten to fit whatever situation you need it to. Kind of easy to manipulate the outcome that way, ya know."

"I won't apologize for tipping the odds in my favor in all things that matter to me. I'm not a man who likes losing."

"Most aren't fond of it."

"True, but I have a particular aversion to the term Taking the L ," Maddox admitted. "I'll only accept that outcome after I've exhausted every opportunity to shift the tide."

"Something tells me you can get downright creative in your methods too," Haven replied as he finished washing his hands and dried them on a black towel.

"You don't know the half of it."

"Oh my fuckin' god that smells delicious," Haven moaned the minute Maddox opened the box and let the scent of that deep dish pie fill the space around the table.

"I picked up some garlic bread and buffalo wings too," Maddox announced as he started to uncover the remaining containers while Haven grabbed paper plates and napkins, then joined him at the table for their feast.

"Holy shit…"

Haven's eyes were wide, and he was practically drooling as he sat down, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at least three times while Maddox placed a six pack of hard cider on the table, condensation dripping off the chilled bottles and dotting the wood. Haven didn't reach for a piece though, or one of the bottles, it was like he was waiting for a proper invitation, so Maddox picked up two pieces and put them on the plate in front of him before serving himself a couple slices of thick, oozy perfection. If it tasted as good as it smelled, The Crispy Crust was going to be the cause of him finally joining a gym. At his age, he couldn't eat like this on a regular basis and not do something to ensure that the middle age spread didn't catch up to him.

Instead of taking the seat across from Haven, Maddox parked himself in the seat beside him and just to see what Haven would do, cut a piece off one of his slices and held it to Haven's lips.

"Game on, huh?" Haven murmured, echoing Maddox's words before he'd left the shop.

"Yeah, and I came to play."

"Funny, but looking at you, the last image that comes to mind is The Miz," Haven said, flashing him a grin. "You're more like American Badass Undertaker…without the motorcycle."

While Maddox sputtered in outrage, Haven just grinned and winked at him.

"What, too soon?" The little shit asked, then chose that moment to wrap his lips around the pizza and the tips of Maddox's fingers, his tongue gliding over Maddox's skin as he slowly sucked the morsel into his mouth. Maddox's cock gave a happy little jump in his pants as Haven chewed, low, appreciative moans sounding almost pornographic as he enjoyed that first taste.

"This is better than I remember," Haven moaned as he dragged his tongue over his upper lip to lick away every trace of sauce. He missed one though, a little smear along the edge of his cheek.

Maddox would have preferred to be the one doing the licking, that taunting red smudge mocking him. Deep down he knew he could only push so much here at the beginning of their little dance. Especially if he wanted Haven to succumb to what they both clearly wanted sooner rather than later. The heated looks the man shot him whenever he though Maddox wasn't looking had clued him in to the attraction from the very first night they'd gone over the damage to the Electra Glide. It wasn't even subtle. Just outright, blazing lust.

Not only did it feed his ego, but it fueled his desire in ways that he hadn't experienced in years. If he'd ever needed proof that he'd been playing with the wrong partners, he had it in the way Haven totally ignored the slices on his plate to let Maddox feed him the next bite. That tongue circled his finger in a teasing dance while Haven's eyes glimmered with mischief and promises of mayhem if Maddox were to let him keep the upper hand for long.

"You should try the wings," Maddox suggested, pointedly putting four on Haven's plate along with a slice of garlic bread, then sliding a small cup of sauce his way.

"Please tell me that's ranch and not blue cheese," Haven remarked as he picked up a wing and held it poised over the sauce as he eyed it skeptically.

"Can't," Maddox admitted. "I don't have a clue what comes with it."

Grumbling, Haven narrowed his eyes at the little cup, then dipped his pinky in it and proceeded to cautiously press it to the tip of his tongue. When he let out another obscene moan, Maddox knew he was pleased with the outcome. When he didn't expect was how explicitly erotic Haven could make eating appear, with tiny bites, slow chewing, and blissed-out expressions that crossed his face every time he tasted something new. Even his lips around the rim of the bottle provided a feast for the eyes, so much so that Maddox left his own food forgotten until half of Haven's plate was empty.

"That fuckin' Monte Carlo could fall off the lift on me right now and I'd die completely happy and still thanking the food gods," Haven moaned.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. Not a single god damned thing. It's absolutely fuckin' perfect in every fuckin' way," Haven groaned as he sunk his teeth into the crispy crust of the garlic bread. "I don't remember the last time I tasted something so awesome. This is real fuckin' butter man, not that fake ass margarine shit."

Maddox chuckled at the way Haven's language disintegrated the longer the meal stretched on, but he was pleased too, because the man was taking the time to savor every bite, rather than rushing to gobble down his food.

"I meant with the Monte Carlo," Maddox said once Haven had swallowed and washed it down with another sip of some of the best hard cider Maddox had ever tasted. Locally made, according to the packaging, with varieties that ran from crisp red to sour apple and even included a golden delicious pared with juicy peach. He couldn't recall ever having that combination but now that he'd seen it, it had rocketed to the top of his must try list.

"Mmmm," Haven murmured, eyes leaving his plate for long enough to flicker in the direction of the car that was still hoisted high on the lift in the second bay. "The drive shaft and the differential are fucked, for starters. The rotors and brakes need replacing. It's got a stalling issue I haven't completely unraveled yet and the starter is going bad. I've got parts coming in tomorrow, so as soon they get here, I can replace what I've diagnosed, then work out the rest of the problems."

"Solid approach."

"Only approach, at least according to my Pops," Haven admitted. "He always insisted on taking things step by step. He was never one for wasting time either. He'd go through in the morning, figure out what was wrong with each of the vehicles, order any parts he needed as early in the day as he could, to ensure he got them faster, then he'd dive in with the stuff that was fixable right away, so he wasn't sitting around waiting for what he didn't have."

"What year is it?"

"'71."

"V-8?"

"Yup, big block 454, SS package, maxed out at 500 pounds per force foot of torque," Haven explained. "That was the last year they offered the high-performance package. After that they started cutting power which just pissed people off and made them look to other models if they were after something with more muscle. Not that the Monte Carlo is technically considered a full-on muscle car. It's more like a luxury coupe with some power to it, but it's got some beautiful lines, especially along the front end. If you're into classic muscle, you should have been here this morning. I had a cherry red '68 Barracuda in here with a faulty intake manifold. The lady who owned it wanted a more aggressive camshaft and had already done all the research and purchased the parts, so all I had to do was install it. Man did it purr by the time she drove it away."

"I've always been more into two wheels than four, but a ‘cuda is a classic piece of metal that deserves appreciation," Maddox replied in between bites.

Easily the best damned pizza he'd had in years, it required no effort at all to take his time and savor it the same way Haven was.

"That's always been my favorite part about working in the shop," Haven admitted. "Those classics come in and it's a whole different vibe from working on everyday vehicles. It's like the difference between ground beef and a beautiful ribeye. One fills your belly, the other makes your soul sing."

Maddox pondered his words, not just what he said but the way he said them and how much his eyes brightened as he spoke, animated and happy, with that squirming little shimmy of his that left Maddox fearing for his ability to stay in his chair. Unless Maddox was mistaken, Haven had a creative streak and a means of ascribing emotions to mechanical things in a way that most people didn't get. It was a shame the way the automobile industry had killed the charm and statement making individuality that had been the American muscle car. Now they just made vehicles whose sole function was to get people from one place to the other. It was nearly impossible to tell one from another these days, but spot a classic kicking up dust from beneath its wheels and the moment was instantly unforgettable.

"I'll tell you what makes my soul sing," Maddox said. "Leaning into a curve with an engine rumbling beneath me and the sense of oneness with the machine that comes from having to use my whole body to keep it between the lines. Nothing else in the world offers that same kind of rush."

"I don't know about that," Haven said. "There are a few things I can think of that offer the same kind of thrill."

"Like what?"

"Bungee jumping. Ziplining. Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, only I'm just guessing on that one since I haven't had the chance to do it yet, but I've always wanted to."

Snorting, Maddox wagged a finger at him. "And you can keep that."

When Haven laughed and licked his lips, Maddox detected the faintest hint of challenge in his eyes and wondered what the hell he was thinking up now that they'd drifted into this somewhat unexpected conversation.

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of free falling for a little bit after all that talk about roaring up a winding highway with nothing between you and the ground but your leathers and a helmet."

"There's a difference between falling a few feet and maybe sliding a little and going splat when something snaps and sends you plummeting to your doom from too high up to do anything but regret your life choices."

"Yeah, cause there's no chance of winding up splattered on some trucker's windshield in the wrong situation," Haven shot back. "A splat is a splat no matter what caused it. Might as well opt for the most epic option if that's the way you're gonna go."

"If I wind up splattered on a windshield, there's a chance I can still survive it. You splatter yourself all over a bunch of rocks from five hundred feet up, period, point black, it's over for you, especially when helmets aren't mandatory for that particular activity."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one," Haven said. "I've been on the back of dirt bikes and there's no denying it's a rush, but I like a hint of danger with my thrills and skydiving seems like it would be one of the ultimate ones."

"Let's see if you still feel the same way when you and I take a ride on my Harley once you've got her put back together."

"Looking forward to it."

Maddox could see by his bright smile and the eager anticipation he gleamed from Haven's squirming, that he really was excited about the prospect the same way Maddox was anxious to feel Haven's arms wrapped around him as he clung like a human backpack. He was a simple man with simple needs: a boy, his bike, and a bit of wind therapy. Now if only they could find the parts they needed to make that desire a reality.