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Sarge checked the large digital clock in his hut. It was only a few minutes after seven, but all his work for the day had been completed. He decided to clean up a bit before he headed over to Fillmore's. The bus never seemed to care when the Jeep was coated in mud, or tracked dirt into his dome, but Sarge was one for constant diligence, even when personal hygiene was involved.
Going out back to retrieve his hose, he remembered that he hadn't yet gotten it back from Fillmore, who had borrowed it to water his lawn earlier on in the day. He grumbled to himself, his good mood from earlier long since evaporated, and went to look for it.
He found it as it had been earlier, trailing under the fence between his yard and Fillmore's. He pulled it carefully through the grass and replaced it in it's holder, where it was held just at level with his roof. Turning it on, he moved himself beneath the powerful stream of water and let it run across his body, lifting his wheels and tilting them to the side to wash away all the caked in mud.
He stayed under the running water far longer than needed. There were few instances in which Sarge was playful, but water turned him into a big kid, and he lifted his nose slightly, letting the water run across his already spotless hood, eyes closed contently.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, but when he opened his eyes slowly, the first thing he saw was another pair of dark brown eyes staring back at him. With a yelp he rolled back speedily, his body heating with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Sneaking up on a war veteran was never the smartest thing to do.
"Fillmore!" He snapped, his voice high with indignation. "Are you trying to give me engine failure?!"
Fillmore merely gave a slight giggle. He hadn't really meant to scare him, he just couldn't resist getting a little closer when he had looked so dreamy and relaxed.
Sarge growled under his breath, not wishing to draw more attention to just how frightened he had been. His anger, however, was far from spent.
"I suppose you just wouldn't know how impolite it is to sneak up on someone when they're washing, seeing as you never wash," he grated, scowling.
However harsh the comment had been, it was true. Fillmore had a thin layer of dusty dirt covering his body that hadn't been washed off in days, and his tires sure could use a cleaning. It just wasn't something he thought much about.
In response to Sarge's dig, he put his wheel sideways under the still running water until a pool of it had built up around his hubcap, then flung the water into Sarge's face with a grin. Sarge blinked the water from his eyes and stared at Fillmore for a moment, shocked, before smirking slightly and doing the same thing. The effect was much more dramatic, however, seeing as Sarge had wheels about twice the size as Fillmore's.
Fillmore backed up with a slight 'whoa', still grinning. The water was pleasantly cool after the long, hot day, and Fillmore rolled under the stream of water, closing his eyes.
Sarge couldn't help but relax a little. At least he was getting a shower, at any rate. Sarge smirked slightly and splashed Fillmore again, which only succeeded in eliciting a small noise of happiness from Fillmore, who rolled even farther under the flowing water.
"You're using my hose again without permission, hippie," Sarge teased.
Another laugh from Fillmore. "Just taking a bath, man, like you wanted."
Sarge watched him with a smile, the water washing away the layer of dirt that had settled on his friend and leaving flowing lines of brighter colours as Fillmore's paint job was cleaned. The bus was not nearly as flexible as Sarge, however, and was having a hard time washing anything but his face and back. Sarge rolled forward and offered his assistance, letting more water pool around his hubcap, this time gently splashing the areas Fillmore couldn't reach on his own.
He moved back to Fillmore's left back wheel, nudging his friend gently to the side and forward, with his nose, so that the water from the hose cascaded down over his back and onto his wheel. Fillmore gave a small sigh of pleasure as Sarge gently rubbed away the built up dirt from his back end, coming teasingly close to his tailpipe, but never touching it.
Fillmore let out a low whimper when the tip of Sarge's tire came particularly close, and Sarge smirked, his own engine heating up at Fillmore's vocalizations and body language. The VW bus found that he was squeaky clean far faster than he would have been had things gone his way. Sarge pulled away, trying to hide his mischievous smile as Fillmore's body sagged in disappointment. The bus turned and offered Sarge a small smile despite this, and there was an awkward moment of silence in which it was obvious Sarge was trying very hard not to laugh. Finally, Fillmore gestured toward his dome with a wheel.
"So, care to join me for some organic fuel?"
Sarge chuckled. It had taken, literally, years of persuasion to get him to even taste anything Fillmore had made, but he found now that he rather enjoyed some of the all-natural brew. He tipped his hood in a nod, and followed Fillmore around the now unnecessary fence separating the two properties, and into his dome.
He opened his eyes wider and blinked in the dimness, adjusting. The smell of incense was strong, and Fillmore flicked on a green lava lamp from somewhere. The Jeep waited patiently as his friend worked in another room.
"The usual?" Fillmore called, and Sarge responded with an "mm" just loud enough for the bus to hear. It was rather embarrassing that he came over to Fillmore's for a drink enough to have a "usual" selection.
Before long, Fillmore rolled out with a can of organic fuel and placed it in front of Sarge. He then left the room, and returned for one of his own, reclining on his axles and taking a long swig. He relaxed, facing Sarge in the dull glow of the lava lamp, and smiled as the Jeep took sip of his own drink.
It didn't take long for the room to start to blur slightly from Fillmore's point of view. He was careful not to mix any... special additives into Sarge's drink, but he could rarely resist adding a special something to his own brews, to help him wind down at the end of the day.
The whole world was rapidly becoming a lovely wash of colours, everything going out of focus except the military Jeep parked before him, sipping on his own drink. Which was, upon Sarge's request, free of any feel-good herbs. Sarge was finished his own drink when Fillmore still had about a third of his left to do. Sarge couldn't help being a guzzler, it was just in his make; while Fillmore took everything at a steady, slow pace.
When the bus finally finished his off, he pushed the now empty canister out of the way, and rolled lazily closer to his friend. Fillmore always got particularly affectionate after consuming that particular concoction, and Sarge could never be sure if it was the psychoactives contained within that did the trick, or if Fillmore just used them as an excuse.
Either way, Fillmore rolled up to the normally surly looking Jeep with an expression of complete adoration and began nuzzling his front bumper against that of his friend. Sarge's face, which had until now been forced and stoic, finally broke, and he smiled one of his small smiles.
Fillmore was never sure if his advances would be accepted; it was rare that it was Sarge who started anything. And sometimes, even now, Sarge would roughly push him away. But right now was clearly the right time, because along with the smile, Sarge made a barely audible noise of happiness. Perhaps someone else would not have heard it, it was so quiet, so repressed. Sarge was rarely vocal. But Fillmore, in his current state of mind, heard it was if it were amplified one hundred times - he almost felt the sound tickling his body.
He grinned and kissed Sarge's bumper, a gesture which was quickly returned, until the two of their mouths were locked, and Sarge was aggressively pushing Fillmore back until his rear end came into contact with the wall. Fillmore didn't seem to notice, let alone care, and he let out a low moan as Sarge's tongue tasted his own.
Even though Sarge rarely made any noise, it was easy to tell when he was enjoying himself. His grille, in their current position, was pressed against Fillmore's face; and it was hot, almost burning to the touch. Not that Fillmore minded. Quite the opposite. He only pushed himself forward even more, basking in the heat.
Bravely, he let his tongue run along the roof of Sarge's mouth. To his delighted surprise, another noise of bliss escaped from Sarge. Most likely without his permission, but Fillmore picked it up loud and clear, none the less. Fillmore smiled lazily, his own engine heating up. He wanted Sarge to make more noises like that.
No, not like that. Louder than that. No more suppressing them. He wanted something real, and he couldn't understand why, even when they were alone, even when he so clearly wanted to, Sarge was unable to let loose; to give up some of the control he had, or at least thought he had. Whenever they made love, it was always Sarge who was in control, and it was always Fillmore who was on the receiving end.
However lovely that was for Fillmore, he was determined in that moment to change that. That was what he was all about, after all. Breaking down barriers, challenging rules and authority. Showing that what was really important about life was doing what you wanted to, and not caring about what others thought. He had gotten Sarge this far, hadn't he? Who could have imagined that years ago, the Jeep wouldn't have given him the time of day. As grumpy, held back, and unwilling as Sarge was now, he had come a very long way.
Perhaps...
Fillmore pushed himself forward, away from the wall he had been backed against. Sarge's eyes, which had been nearly closed, widened at Fillmore's unexpected move, and he was too startled to do anything but let himself be pushed backwards.
Fillmore pulled away from the kissing and gave Sarge what could only be described as a smirk, and positioned himself so that he was facing Sarge from the side. The Jeep watched him with an almost worried expression, but made no move to escape or stop him. The hippie bus raised himself on his front axles, smirk ever-present. But he couldn't quite reach...
"Er, hey man, could you lower yourself a little bit?" He asked, his voice deeper than normal.
Sarge's engine, not to mention other places, flushed with heat at the change in Fillmore's tone, and much to the surprise of both of them, he obediently dropped down on his front axles, so that the front end of his undercarriage was almost brushing against the floor.
Fillmore tried again, this time succeeding. His mouth reached Sarge's wheel well, and he gently kissed just above it, his eyes trained on Sarge's expressions, reveling in his reactions. He continued to plant gentle, wet kisses along the top of his wheel well and the lower side of his hood, tracing the numbers that had been stamped there years ago by the military. U.S.A., 984673. He half wished he could kiss that silly brand away, but soon forgot it.
Sarge was leaning into the kisses, his eyes half closed and glazed over. Fillmore smiled. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought. It was quite obvious that Sarge had wanted this for quite some time, so Fillmore let his tongue run along the underside of Sarge's wheel well, agonizingly slow. Sarge squinted, biting his bottom bumper to keep himself from making any embarrassing noises. Fillmore's smirk returned. Yes, this was definitely going to be easy.
He repeated the action, and Sarge let out a muffled half-moan that was quickly cut off as he jolted forward, actually knocking against Fillmore slightly as he did so. Fillmore blinked in surprise, and soon Sarge was kissing him again. The kisses were awkward, rough, almost forced, and for a moment it was all Fillmore could do to kiss him back, his mind racing to figure out what was going on.
His mind finally worked hard enough to figure it out, and he tried to speak, but it was only a muffled cry against Sarge's mouth. Sarge clearly misunderstood, because his kisses became even rougher, and he was backing him against the wall again...
Fillmore sounded his horn, and Sarge stopped abruptly, backing away a little. He blinked at Fillmore, clearly confused.
Fillmore calmed himself, and rolled closer to the Jeep, who made no move. Fillmore lifted his front right wheel and placed it on the side of Sarge's nose in a reassuring touch. He spoke quietly, just above a whisper.
"What do you have against just letting go, man? It's okay to lose control, once in a while, y'know? No, scratch that. It's totally nice to lose control once in a while." A gentle kiss on the bumper, while Sarge stood, stupefied. "You always do all the work, you always hold it in. Just let go, man. Let me."
For a while Sarge only stared at him, like a deer caught in the glare of headlights. He then returned Fillmore's kiss, but it was a different sort of kiss than he was used to giving. His mouth barely brushed Fillmore's metal, meekly, almost pleadingly, and he responded so quietly in was almost inaudible.
"Okay..."
There was another moment of awkward silence. At least, awkward for Sarge. Fillmore was just staring at him adoringly, lost in the moment. Sarge cleared his throat.
"Oooh, right!" Fillmore chirped, finally snapping out of it enough to roll back to Sarge's side.
"So, like, where were we?" He asked out loud, remembering full well where they had left off. He gently eased Sarge back into his crouching position with a wheel, and returned to his previous attentions. He couldn't help but tease. Teasing Sarge was one of his favourite past-times, whether it be verbally or otherwise. He let his tongue brush, just barely, underneath Sarge's wheel well, eliciting a sudden (but quiet) intake of breath from the Jeep. He teased with those gentle licks for quite some time, until Sarge's eyes began to narrow in annoyance. He clearly wanted him to get on with it, and Fillmore couldn't help but chuckle.
Fillmore pulled away from Sarge's side and moved down to his front wheel. Sarge tensed visibly, and Fillmore's brow furrowed in worry. This wouldn't do, Sarge was far too uptight for this to work. So he pulled away. Sarge blinked at him in disbelief, but Fillmore smiled calmly.
"On second thought, why don't we head to my room?"
Sarge was clearly annoyed, but followed Fillmore into his area of the dome. He only had two rooms, the "main" area, and his private quarters. Fillmore passed through another beaded doorway, with Sarge following close behind. Sarge had only been in Fillmore's room once before, and it hadn't been a prolonged visit. It certainly wasn't his idea of tasteful decoration. There was a soft purple and brown mat on the floor, and curtains of the same colour were draped across the windows to keep the harsh sunlight out. It was now after sunset, so Fillmore pulled the curtains to the side, allowing the starlight to enter.
The room was lit by the soft glow of a few shaded floor lamps, and a few large glass instruments, were pushed against the wall. Sarge ignored them and looked elsewhere, and his eyes landed on a magazine laying half open on the carpet. Fillmore idly flipped it shut with his back wheel and pushed it to the side. Not fast enough to keep Sarge from catching a glimpse of a muddied civilian Jeep on an off-road trail on the cover.
Momentarily, he wondered what Fillmore would want with and off-roading magazine, then felt his engine heat up with embarrassment. Oh. Right.
Fillmore turned with a bit of difficulty to face him. The room was rather cramped with the two of them in it. He kissed him again to try and calm him, but Sarge was still thinking about that magazine. Wasn't he good looking enough for him? What did those young Willys wannabes have that he didn't?
Fillmore's voice interrupted his troubled thoughts.
"Soooo, okay, just lean against the wall, man..."
Sarge gave a questioning look, but Fillmore merely waited for him to comply. The Jeep did as requested and leaned himself against the slanted wall. Fillmore rolled up to him.
"You really need to, like, mellow out, okay?" He said, practically purring. He lifted a wheel and placed it on Sarge's body, just behind the Jeep's own front wheel, and put a little bit of pressure on the spot. Sarge blinked in surprise. That felt oddly good. Fillmore rolled his wheel gently back and forth over that same spot, still applying the same amount of pressure, in what could only be described as a massage.
Sarge deflated slightly with a sigh and closed his eyes. He had no idea where Fillmore had learned how to do that, but it was certainly relaxing, and a pleasant, calming warmth spread from that spot to the rest of his body. He felt his strength leave him, along with his anxiety, and he leaned fully against Fillmore's wall and let him work away.
Fillmore slowly moved down Sarge's side, massaging the entire way, trying to chase away every last bit of worry that his friend had. Remarkably enough, it seemed to be working. When he had covered every last inch of Sarge's side that he could reach, he looked at his face to see how he was doing. The military Jeep opened his eyes and offered him a small, thankful smile.
"You just about put me to sleep."
Fillmore chuckled.
"Woooaa, man, that's not what we want to do."
Sarge couldn't help but smirk, but it was short lived, because suddenly he felt an exquisite wet warmth wrap around his back hubcap. He gasped loudly, and once again bit his bottom bumper to keep himself from being further embarrassed. He failed miserably in that department, however, because that warmth didn't leave, and now that damn hippie was using his tongue, and he wouldn't stop...
A low, muffled moan escaped from between his teeth and his bumper, which only urged Fillmore onwards, who was giggling to himself against Sarge's wheel. He had never tried this before, and was glad he finally had. He would have never guessed Sarge would be this sensitive.
He ran his tongue around the bolts on Sarge's wheel, delving into every little space, kissing and sucking here and there, until Sarge was practically whimpering, however quietly. Fillmore stopped, for a moment just listening to Sarge's heavy breathing, before he said, "I wanna try something."
Sarge merely tipped his front end in a nod, unable to speak. Before he knew it, Fillmore's heavily lidded brown eyes were looking into his.
"I trust you, okay, Sarge?" Fillmore stated, seemingly out of the blue. Sarge blinked in confusion, but Fillmore had rolled forward and given Sarge's front bumper a nudge upwards before the Jeep could respond. Sarge didn't understand, and merely stared. Once again, Fillmore nudged his bumper from beneath with his own, attempting to push him up.
And then it dawned on Sarge. His eyes widened.
"You w-want me to...?" He asked in disbelief, not caring that he was stammering.
Fillmore squinted and merely smiled and nodded, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"C'mon, then, dude," he urged.
So Sarge did. He rolled up to Fillmore until they were about an inch from one another, and then, with a great amount of effort, lifted his front end completely off the ground. His wheels gripped Fillmore on either side of his face, just in front of his rear view mirror on one side. Carefully, inch by inch, he drove himself upwards, until only his back wheels and Fillmore were holding him up, his front half in the air, clasping Fillmore's head with his wheels, and bringing Fillmore's mouth in line with his back axle.
Fillmore's frame gave a slight groan under the pressure, but Sarge was still smaller, and he soon got used to it. Any discomfort he may have felt was quickly forgotten as he enjoyed the oh so wonderful view, anyway. He kissed Sarge's undercarriage gently, where his drive shaft met his back axle, and was rewarded with a quiet mewl from the Jeep.
That was all the bidding Fillmore needed. He licked that same area slowly, hesitant at first, but soon lapping away almost hungrily and letting out muffled hums and chuckles at Sarge's helpless vocalizations.
Any thoughts of controlling himself were long gone and forgotten on Sarge's end. His whole underside was positively on fire with delight. No one had ever trusted him enough to allow him to get into such a position - an act such as this was usually reserved for couples who had been together for years.
Fillmore treated Sarge's drive shaft in the same manner as he had treated his wheels earlier, letting his tongue explore every spot, and then moving along his back axle, sucking, licking, kissing. All the while Sarge's breathing quickened and his moans become louder, more frantic. He couldn't help put paw slightly at Fillmore's sides with his tires, which only urged the VW onwards.
Fillmore knew his friend was close when he started gripping his sides tightly, almost painfully, with the insides of his wheels, and letting out low, husky moans with each breath. He concentrated all his efforts on bringing him over the edge, his own engine almost overheating at those wonderful noises he had waited so long to hear. And when he finally climaxed, whimpering and groaning, Fillmore couldn't help but let out a moan himself, because he was positive, absolutely positive, that he had heard his own name quietly whispered as everything ended.
For a moment the two of them remained locked together, breathing heavily. Sarge finally came to his senses and slowly lowered himself, with much creaking metal, to the floor. His body was still awash with good feelings, and he gave Fillmore a weak, but deep and thankful, kiss, which the bus gladly returned. They gazed at each other for a moment, Fillmore slightly worried. Sarge was bound to become embarrassed, soon, and probably leave in a hurry, with some excuse about how much work he needed to get done.
But the Jeep merely gave a tired smile and reversed himself so that he was facing the same direction as Fillmore, and leaned on him, gently, catching his breath. He nuzzled his friend's side slightly with the edge of his nose, his engine purring quietly. Fillmore's tank fluttered, and he reached for Sarge's antenna with his mirror, which quickly coiled and clasped around the mirror upon contact.
After a few minutes, Sarge began to rise. Whether it was because he wanted to return the favor, or because he was going to leave, Fillmore wasn't sure. Either way, he pulled him back down with his front wheel. Sarge made a questioning noise, and Fillmore smiled.
"Just relax, Sarge. Just stay with me."
Sarge closed his eyes, his bumper curling in a grin, and slid his wheel to the side so that it rested against Fillmore's. He mumbled something under his breath, and Fillmore was only able to catch the word "hippie", but either way he had settled down next to him, and before long he had drifted off to sleep.
Fillmore watched him for a while, struggling to keep his eyes open. He had never seen Sarge sleep so peacefully, and he wanted to remember it. But soon his own eyes were closing, and he drifted off with wishful thoughts about convincing Sarge to finally tear down the pointless fence he had put between their properties so long ago.