It wasn’t all that comfortable. It wasn’t even all that discreet – if anyone saw them there in the garage, and especially on the bed of Mom’s truck, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out they were up to something. But it was away from prying eyes, and specifically the prying eyes of Blake’s little sister.

“You’re sure about this, stripey?” The rat gave the edge of Mom’s emergency blanket a twitch, spreading it out a little better.

“It’s okay, Flynn. I’m not twelve.” Blake smiled, reaching out to touch the other youth’s jaw. “I haven’t done it before, sure, but I know what it is.”

“Just making sure.” Flynn eased himself onto the blanket, face up, and grinned at him. “Last chance to back out before it gets started, after all. But if you’re not gonna do that, get over here.”

Even through the blanket, the truck bed was hard, rough, and none too comfortable under Blake’s hands and knees, but Flynn’s hands distracted him from that soon enough, running over his chest and sides. And then slipping up under his tee to do so with just fur in the way. It wasn’t the first time they’d made out, and some of those times neither of them had had a shirt on, but it was the first time Flynn or anyone else went past Blake’s shirt.

He shivered, biting his lip against a moan. The rat knew his work – knew when to limit himself to a light caress, knew where and when a firmer touch would be better. He knew when Blake was turned on enough that a pinch to the quagga’s nipple, hard enough that it should’ve been painful, would just make him gasp and shove into it, grinding his swelling cock against the answering bulge in the runner’s shorts.

And he also knew when, eventually, to stop messing around on the surface, tug Blake in against his side, and fish his cock into the open.

Flynn kissed him deeply; Blake responded in kind, partly to muffle his moans and partly because, damn, this guy could get him going. The rat’s fingers just didn’t quit, dancing along Blake’s hard-on and finding all its sensitive spots. Blake couldn’t help but feel clumsy in comparison – having the rat’s bare flesh in his grip was an incredible thing, a tangible reminder that he was actually taking the first steps into having a sex life of his own, right there and then; but all he could do was squeeze at it and try to keep stroking along it. He had no idea how Flynn was managing half the things he was.

But he knew it felt amazing, and he knew when it was too much. He bit his lip against a heavy groan, chin jerking up, and a shiver chased through him; the next thing he knew, Flynn was squeezing the last few dribbles onto Blake’s stomach.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Guess you weren’t kidding.”

“And not a drop on the blanket to give us away.” Flynn winked.

Blake looked down at himself. “God. Couldn’t it still get, um, messy?”

“Not if I can help it,” said the rat with a grin, and lowered his head.