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By *c8484 OP Man
4 weeks ago
Dunfermline |
It had taken longer than expected to roll out of Calais. The port was a maze of lorries and a distinct lack of signage. By the time Kyle and Rory hit the open road, it was after lunch. The plan was simple: a laid-back drive through Belgium into Germany.
Rory had been quiet for most of the journey, scrolling through his phone with the occasional smirk. Kyle kept his eyes on the road, but the silence between them had started to feel heavy.
Eventually, Kyle broke it.
“I can’t believe you really fucked that lad on the ferry.”
Rory looked up, grinning. “Yeah. That was a good one, tight as fuck”.
“Do you do that a lot?” Kyle asked, glancing sideways.
Rory shrugged. “Pretty much every trip. What happens on the road stays on the road, I say.” He laughed, slapping his thigh.
Kyle smiled, but there was something in Rory’s tone, half-joking, half-serious, that he liked.
“You know where we’re parking up tonight?”
“I did,” Rory said, tapping at his phone. “But I’m working on a change of plan.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Rory turned to him, eyes twinkling. “Because we need to get you out of those work clothes. You look like you’re about to do an oil change. We’re going to find you something that won’t scare off the nice-looking lads.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a whole strategy, huh?”
“There’s a mall near a truck park on the far side of Essen,” Rory said, already plotting the detour. “We’ll head there. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
The mall was huge and shiny, and Kyle instantly felt out of his depth. He usually just ordered clothes online. Bright fluorescent lights hummed above them, and the air was a mix of cinnamon pretzels and too much aftershave.
Rory was immediately in his element. He scanned the storefronts like a hawk, zeroing in on a boutique with mannequins dressed in tight denim and faux-leather jackets that gleamed under the spotlights.
“This is the one,” he said, tugging Kyle by the sleeve. “Time to get you out of that truck driver gear.”
Kyle rolled his eyes but followed him in, dodging racks of mesh tops and studded belts.
Rory dove into the rails, pulling out a pair of black coated jeans that clung to the hanger, and a sleeveless charcoal shirt with subtle metallic threading. He held them up against Kyle’s frame, nodding with approval.
“Try these. Leather-look, fitted, but not too clubby. Sexy enough to turn heads, not enough to get you mistaken for the DJ.”
Kyle hesitated. “You sure this isn’t a bit much?”
Rory grinned. “Kyle, you’re in Germany. There’s no such thing as ‘too much.’ Go on—changing rooms are that way.”
Kyle took the clothes and disappeared behind the curtain. Rory leaned against a mirrored column, arms crossed, watching the reflection of passing shoppers.
When Kyle finally stepped out, the transformation was subtle but striking. The jeans hugged him tight, the shirt caught the light with every movement.
Rory gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Now that,” he said, “is a man who might get fucked at a truck stop café.”
Kyle laughed, a little self-conscious. “You think?”
“I know,” Rory said, stepping closer. “And if no one else does, I’ll do the honours.”
As Kyle admired himself in the mirror, still adjusting to the snug fit of the jeans, a voice chimed in behind them.
“You wear those very well,” the shop assistant said, his German accent almost hidden by his perfect English.
They turned to find him standing just a few feet away, arms folded, one hip cocked. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, with bleached-blond hair styled into a tousled quiff and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He was dressed like he’d stepped straight out of a Berlin streetwear photoshoot: white skinny jeans that clung, tucked neatly into knee-high football socks—red stripes at the top, stretched tight. On his feet, classic black Converse, scuffed just enough to look lived-in. His cropped mesh T-shirt showed off a toned stomach and a silver chain glinted at his collarbone.
“I’m Felix,” he said, flashing a grin. “You two are not from around here, ja?”
“Guilty,” Rory said, returning the smile. “We’re just passing through.”
“Well,” Felix said, eyes flicking between them, “if you’re staying the night, there’s a bar near the old train station. Very….you know….my type. Very fun. I finish work at nine.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting us out?”
Fekix shrugged, playful. “Why not? You’ve got the look now. Might as well show it off.”
Kyle stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the tight T-shirt, feeling a little self conscious, while Rory chatted with Felix. The invitation to the club had been unexpected and Kyle could feel his cock beginning to strain.
Rory glanced at Kyle, then back at Felix. “I just need to get something,” he said, “Won’t be a sec.”
He strode off with purpose, leaving Kyle alone in the softly lit changing room. The hum of the store faded, replaced by the muffled thump of distant music.
Kyle turned back to the mirror, half-smiling to himself. The T-shirt did fit better than expected. He looked—different. Sharper. Like someone who might actually belong in a club with beautiful people and neon cocktails.
Lukas stepped towards him, his eyes locked on Kyle’s. There was no time to speak as Felix pressed himself against Kyle’s body, the heat of his breath, and the sudden, dizzying and powerful kiss.
Kyle froze. Felix’s hand found his waist, his fingers tracing the outline of Kyle’s cock as it grew, stretching the jeans even tighter,
Then, just as quickly, Felix pulled back. His smile was wicked, almost triumphant.
“See you tonight,” he whispered, and slipped out through the curtain.
They climbed back into the truck, the sky over Essen now dark. The rest area showers had done their job, steam, cheap soap and they were ready to face the night. Kyle stood by the passenger seat, towel slung low on his hips, his new clothes folded neatly beside him.
Rory rummaged in his shopping bag and pulled something out, tossing it across the cab. It landed with a soft slap against Kyle’s chest.
“Before you get dressed,” Rory said, grinning. “A gift.”
Kyle caught it, held it up. Neon yellow. Minimal coverage. “Seriously?”
“Brand new,” Rory said. “Saw it back at the shop and thought of you. Figured tonight’s as good a time as any.”
Kyle turned it over in his hands, the fluorescent fabric almost glowing in the dim light. “A Jockstrap…You want me to wear this?”
“I do,” Rory said, leaning back against the door, arms crossed. “Trust me, under those jeans? You’ll be very popular.”
Kyle hesitated, then dropped the towel and stepped into the straps. The elastic snapped into place as he wriggled it up his thighs, hugging him tight. Rory didn’t look away.
“Fuckin hell,” Rory muttered. “Turn round”.
Kyle slowly turned round. He heard Rory’s towel drop to the floor. The familiar sound of Rory stroking his cock filled the cab.
“Hey, we’ve no time for that”, Kyle smirked, reaching for the coated jeans. “What’s the plan?”
Rory’s eyes didn’t leave him. “Get to the club, quick drink, get Felix back here, then we both fuck him…..simple.”
Kyle smiled, shrugging the sleeveless shirt on, the metallic thread catching the dim light inside the cab. He glanced at himself in the little mirror, he could see a flash of neon round his waist, just above the black denim, a flicker of boldness he hadn’t felt in years.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go cause some trouble.”
Rory grinned. “Now you’re talking.” |
