Sarge's Secret Infatuation

Chapter Two


Some days later, Sarge took a trip. A trip that absolutely no one knew about, except perhaps the hippie next door. After all, it was the bus himself who had introduced him to this location.

He ordered a drink from the bartender whose gender was hard to place, then milled around the bar with a frown that was a little less severe than usual. The multicoloured lights on the dance floor flickered over his hood, but the Jeep never went out there. He wasn't here looking to dance, or pick up. He was just here because he felt more comfortable here than anywhere else. There was no need to hide anything.

He lost count of how many drinks he consumed. As it got later, the club got more and more crowded. The Jeep was turning to order another drink, but decided against it when he swayed slightly. He instead turned around and settled close to one of the pillars, leaning on it slightly and watching the dancers with a passive expression.

Sarge turned his eyes slightly at the sound of two or three disgruntled women. Probably lesbian drama, he reasoned, but turned to look anyway. His mouth hung open slightly when he saw Chick Hicks with a small group of girls who seemed to be trying to get away from him, though he was insisting he had enough money to buy them all drinks. Sarge smirked. Perhaps had he not been so drunk he would have watched from a distance.

"This is a gay bar, genius, the ladies aren't interested," he said in his best gruff voice, driving up next to the Buick, who jumped a bit.

"Hey, Sarge. You must have missed me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," the Jeep said as the girls took this moment to drive off.

"Now look what you did!"

"They weren't interested, don't you know where you are?"

Oddly enough, Chick didn't reply, though from the look on his face it was clear he did know where they were, and was just having what he considered fun. He shuffled his tire against the sticky floor, and it didn't escape Sarge's notice that he was making no attempt to vanish into the crowd.

"I bet you were hoping to see me here, weren't you? Hell, I bet you followed me here!" the drunk Jeep ranted, slinging a tire around Chick's. "Why don't you buy me a drink, boy?"

"Hey, come on! I was built in 1986."

Sarge took a rather piggish, snorting breath.

"Forty two."

"Yeuch!"

"What, you think that makes a difference? You've seen me at boot camp, you know better than that."

"You don't look like your can hold your liquor very well, that's for sure old man," Chick said, noting the slur in Sarge's voice and the change in his demeanor.

The Buick had originally come here looking for Sarge. When the Jeep had called him a stalker, he hadn't been far off. Chick had been thinking about the kiss they "shared" a few nights ago for a while, completely unable to get it out of his head. It was true, of course, that Chick was a big fan of the ladies, but there was something about Sarge that intrigued him. Chick fancied vehicles that managed to be just as square as he was, for starters, and they were increasingly rare.

But how did one go about picking up a man? Not that it looked like Sarge needed much picking up. The veteran was practically throwing himself at the race car. The Jeep suddenly leaned heavily on him and thrust the empty glass he was holding in front of Chick's grille.

"Have a drink," he slurred, and Chick guffawed.

"You're wasted!" he said with glee, and pushed the glass away.

Though Sarge was putting a lot of his weight on the Buick, Chick realised with some surprise that that weight wasn't much. He had always imagined him as heavy and rough to the touch, but now that he was so close he could appreciate how small he was, and how his soft canvas top caved slightly against the pressure of Chick's solid frame. The car's engine heated a bit more than usual, and he agreed to let Sarge buy him a drink.


About an hour later, Chick was swerving slowly down a back street, followed closely by Sarge, who was doing a considerable amount of swerving himself, but seemed to be succeeding more in controlling himself. The two had spent the night drinking and watching the cars on the dance floor. Sarge had gradually been able get Chick to warm up to him a bit more, and it had been surprisingly easy.

Chick spotted a public rest room, one of those dingy, graffiti covered places that smelled like something you didn't really want to identify.

"Hold on a sec. I gotta take a leak."

Sarge waited in the road as he went inside. It was well past 3 AM, and there was absolutely no one around. When Chick emerged from the bathroom, the Jeep was right there in his face, pushing against him with his flat grille and forcing him back inside. It was a single room with a lock, and Sarge quickly shut the door again.

"This is as good a place as any," Sarge slurred, rubbing against Chick, and the race car let out a nervous chuckle. He had, truth be told, planned on taking him back to his hotel, which was close to here, and... but there didn't seem to be any stopping Sarge, who seemed to be quite used to getting what he wanted with no objections or complaints.

Chick strained his eyes when he was suddenly plunged into total darkness. Sarge had switched the light off without a word, and now all he could hear was his slightly laboured breathing, as he had killed his engine in the enclosed space, too. Chick did the same with a hiccup.

The car suddenly felt a heavily treaded tire under his bumper, and Sarge was pulling him forward until his alcohol laden breath fell on his grille.

"You know how to suck dick?"

Chick blushed furiously, and his silence roused a deep, malicious chuckle from the veteran.

"Don't answer that. I know you do."

Chick suddenly felt a weight on his hood, and something warm and wet was pressed against his lips. He got to work with little hesitancy, and Sarge sighed heavily atop him.

"Mmmnn, I knew you were experienced," he puffed, and Chick was unable to respond with anything more than a hum. Sarge allowed him to work for a while, then dismounted carefully. His eyes widened in surprise when Chick's mouth found his in seconds and kissed it ravenously.

"What about me, old man?" he purred, and Sarge only had time for a wide-eyed stare into the darkness before Chick had returned the favour and mounted his face. For a moment, Sarge froze, but just for a moment, and then his tongue searched and found his prize, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. It was Chick's turn to gloat now as he squirmed atop the smaller vehicle.

"Jeez, Sarge, I bet you could suck someone's paint off," he said, going slightly cross-eyed and shimmying forward a bit. When he knew he could take it no more, he rolled back to the floor, and then started to circle Sarge slowly, moving to his rear end. Sarge scooted forward.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Jeep growled, and Chick laughed.

"What does it look like? Tip forward, that canvas looks comfy."

"If you think you're going to top me, boy..!"

The two of them were suddenly wrestling, Sarge trying to keep his back end away from the Buick, and Chick trying to tip the older vehicle, who snarled and even here and there bit him as his tires groped and pulled and he butted him with his grille. In the end Chick proved to be of superior strength, and Sarge tipped with a thud to the floor, cursing, and Chick was soon next to him.

"This better be good, soldier," Sarge said, and it was clear that despite his complaints about Chick's choice of positions, he wasn't about to back down, and he spread his back tires. Chick gave him a quick spit job, then mounted him, smirking at Sarge's gasp.

He started slowly, but soon picked up a rough, fast pace, and the Jeep beneath him was completely overwhelmed. He was used to a much slower and gentler lover, and the sheer power of the car on top of him was an immense turn on.

"Oh, Chrysler, Chick, harder!" he barked, and Chick had no trouble picking up the pace until his undercarriage was slamming against Sarge's with each thrust, with the tough Jeep all too eager to take it.

Sarge came first, biting his bottom bumper with a deep growl, and Chick was soon to follow, his frame curling around the smaller vehicle's and trembling as he finished off. He remained there, catching his breath, then slid from him.

"Whew! Bet you don't regret letting me tip you."

"Help me up."

Chick extended a tire to right Sarge, who tipped back into a standing position, axles trembling. Neither kissed nor snuggled nor did any of the things that lovers do. Sarge merely slugged Chick roughly on his wheel well, and the car looked slightly sulky.

"Huh. Decent."

"That's not what you were saying when I -- " Chick began to say as he swung the door open, but a chorus of loud cheers from the crowd assembled outside in the street cut him off.