43. Chapter 43 #2
Colt qualified P3 in his round, which was real good so far as Beau was concerned. Especially since he'd never qualified in a pack before. It was a different beast.
“Your heat is fourth round.” Beau leaned back against the hauler, and Colt ran a towel through his curls. “I'll be spotting just like we practiced yesterday, but the heat won't be like anything you've done on the track so far.”
He handed Colt a bottle of electrolytes and watched until he sipped. “It's gonna be a dogfight. Half your pack is probably rookies, the other half is pros who won't let ‘em take their spots in A-Main. You're gonna have to work for it.”
Colt grinned. “My specialty.”
Yeah, it was. And Beau had made him prove it repeatedly the day before at the track he'd rented himself from sundown to midnight.
When Colt tried to stretch his arms over his head, he winced and dropped his hand to his side instead.
Beau's fault, and he felt bad for it. At the same time, if he couldn't race sore here, he'd never make 300 laps in a Cup series with no power steering.
“Get in the hauler,” Beau told him after another aborted stretch.
“Suit down, shirt off.” Leaning down, Beau lowered his voice even though there was next to no shot of him being heard.
“And don't you give me shit about it. I'm gonna tape your ribs.
You'll let me unless you wanna risk Xavier doing it.”
For one second, Colt’s eyes drifted to Xavier like he was really considering it. He shook his head. “Fine.” He pointed a finger at Beau’s chest and gave him a mock glare. “But no funny business.”
Beau shoved his shoulder, pushing him toward the hauler and heading into the truck cab himself.
He dug out his medical kit and flipped the lid.
Pulled out a roll of acid green KT tape he'd bought specifically for Colt and wished for just a second that he hadn't. The boy had called him a softie the other night, wrapped in Beau’s towel and leaning his forehead against Beau’s chest. As Beau tucked the tape into his pocket, he did feel soft.
He opened the door to the hauler as Colt was pulling off his shirt, and Beau sucked in a breath when he saw the state of his ribs. Christ. The whole side was a livid, mottled purple. Like someone had gone at him with a hammer.
“Hell, Colt.” Beau stepped closer and leaned down to inspect the damage, fingers hovering just over his skin. “Why didn't you tell me how bad this was?”
“S'fine.” Colt looked down at him. “I bruise like a peach anyway. It's in my genes.”
The hauler was sweltering this time of day, the sun beating down on it like a greenhouse that smelled like rubber and oil.
Sweat trickled down the back of Beau’s neck as he pulled alcohol wipes out of his pocket.
“Go sit on the bench over there. Right arm up, hand on your head. It'll open up the rib cage.”
“Yessir.” Colt came over, and Beau's eyes traced the line of his spine.
Gorgeous.
He shook his head and followed. Colt lifted his arm and put his hand on his head like he was told.
“I'm gonna touch you now. Gotta. It might hurt, but you'll feel better when I'm done.”
Colt swallowed. “Okay.”
He looked like a goddamn underwear model, all spread out on the bench. Beau wanted to bury his nose in Colt’s underarm, to kiss his bruises until he forgot they hurt.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous that the prospect of touching Colt even like this had Beau thrumming with anticipation. He couldn't help it. Sometimes he thought it didn't matter whether he was touching Colt for sex or for care so long as he was touching him at all.
Beau opened the first wipe and the smell of antiseptic burned his nose. He gently dragged it down Colt’s side, then around to his spine, before opening another one and repeating the process. “The tape's gotta stick, or you'll sweat it off lap one. It's gonna be a real bitch to take off tonight.”
“I'm sure I can find help somewhere,” Colt teased. “I know a guy. Pretty sure he'll take it off for me if I ask pretty.”
“How pretty?” Beau asked as he pulled the tape out of his pocket and opened the roll.
Colt sucked in a sharp inhale, and Beau looked up when he felt those eyes watching him.
Colt pressed his knee into Beau’s thigh. “As pretty as you need me to be.” He wet his lips with his tongue and lowered his voice. “You know I would.”
He would. Colt would beg so pretty, on his knees if Beau asked. If Beau gave Colt what he wanted, if he let Colt touch him, service him.
His hands were steady as he pulled the tape and broke the strip with his teeth.
But it took a conscious effort to keep them that way.
Especially as he brought the first end to the side of Colt’s spine and pressed it into his warm skin.
Colt's sides rose with his deep, quick inhale, and Beau stretched the tape down across his ribs.
He followed the path with his hand to make sure it was straight and reminded himself that he couldn't keep going until his fingers were splayed across Colt’s taut stomach.
By the time Beau was done with the X across Colt’s ribs, he was half-hard and sweating his ass off. What the fuck was wrong with him? Colt was flushed from his cheeks to his nipples, and Beau knew by the way he was shifting on the stool that it wasn't just from the heat.
“You got this color for me, huh?” Colt asked softly as Beau helped him lower his arm. Beau didn't answer, and Colt huffed a soft laugh. “You like me.”
Beau paused to steady himself. Then he looked down at Colt, at his wet curls and his big eyes and his dimples. “Yeah, boy. I do.”
Colt’s eyes drifted down to Beau’s lips, and Beau held as still as he could.
A fist pounded against the hauler door so hard both of them jumped. “Colt, you decent? They're calling your heat in five.” James.
“Yeah,” Colt called, his eyes fully locked on Beau. “Just getting taped up. Be right out.”
“Roger!”
The air in the hauler was thick as Beau picked Colt’s shirt up off the toolbox and handed it to him. He'd tuned out the sounds from outside, but now it felt like the revving engines and people chattering were echoing in the small space.
When Colt winced reaching for the sleeves of his suit, Beau helped him into it and came around his front to zip him up. “Alright.” His voice was rough as he did up the collar. “Let's get you out there.”
“Hey, Beau?” Colt stepped closer.
“Yeah?”
Colt slid a hand onto each of Beau’s shoulders and pulled himself up. Then he pressed his lips to the corner of Beau’s mouth, firm and warm and not enough. “Thanks.”
He left, opening the door to let in the light and sound of the rest of the world, and Beau was alone with acid green KT tape and the feeling of Colt’s mouth against his skin.