Looks like this got deleted somehow so I’m posting it again.
Piece from a few years ago I made for that year's Borderlands summer bingo. Modeled/textured the torso, arm, fin, and starfish from scratch and I was (and still am) very proud of myself for getting the whole piece done in a month.
Collab between me and @thethespacecoyote for the bl summer bingo! Prompts: booty shorts and car wash. Art above is mine, awesome fic below is theirs.
Jack was pissed off.
It was a nice day out—the sun was shining, the sky was bright blue and splotched with only a couple of clouds, the leaves in the trees outside his mansion were rustling softly in the breeze—and Jack had wanted little more than to take his favorite flashy sports car out for a spin with his boyfriend sitting pretty in the freshly re-upholstered passenger’s seat. There wasn’t much sexier than Rhys in his cute little V-neck and sunglasses, the wind ruffling through his glinting auburn hair.
Which is why Jack was so pissed off that he couldn’t find either Rhys or his damn keys.
He had looked everywhere that he usually let them, rooting through all the pockets of the pants he had stuffed int the laundry hamper and scouring all his usual junk drawers. He even opened the freezer and his liquor cabinet, because the human brain was frikkin’ weird and ended up leaving things in random-ass places, but he came up with a fat load of nada.
“Rhys!” Jack called through the echoing halls of his mansion, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the kid since his manic search had begun. “Have you seen my god damn keys?” He snarled into the empty air, stomping against the hard wood floor in hope that Rhys would magically appear to tell him to knock it off, you don’t want to scuff the finish do you?
But he got nothing.
Despite his roiling frustration, he tried to stand still, straining his ears to hear past the general creaks of his mansion settling, picking up on some thumping bass and noodling guitar that was definitely close enough to be coming from his property. His house was way too damn huge and his grounds too expansive and full of pools and fountains and meticulously clipped topiaries for that to be noise from any of his neighbors, so it had to lead him to wherever Rhys was.
Right?
Jack took off in the direction of the sound, eventually deducing that it was coming from his front driveway after a couple of minutes of running back and forth. He exited out the side door, flip flops dragging against the slate walkway as he pushed open the side-yard gate and walked out into the massive driveway where he kept most of his cars parked during the summertime. He could hear the clear sound of the music—some crappy hair-metal song from his youth, hardly something Rhys would listen to—as he rounded the corner of his house, only to stop so quickly in his tracks that he nearly lost his balance.
So it turns out, there was something sexier than Rhys sitting in the passenger’s seat in his cute little V-neck with the wind running through his hair. And that was Rhys in a pair of shorts and a tank top, tastelessly splattered in water and soap, washing his car to the tune of Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.”
Rhys was partially facing away from him, bent slightly over the hood of Jack’s car as he scrubbed down the surface in big, lazy circles with a fat, fluffy sponge. Jack’s annoyance flashed slightly as he noticed the hose was still running, streaming water down his driveway, but it was quickly chased off as Rhys tucked his knee up against the car to lean further onto the hood, his wet clothes tightening about his body.
Jack bit back a groan at the sight.
He watched as Rhys reached up to run a hand through his damp, auburn locks, tossing his head back only to finally notice Jack standing slack-jawed behind him.
Noticed. Yeah right. The sly look on Rhys’ face told Jack that the kid had definitely been planning on getting caught in such a compromising position.
“Jack!” The surprise in his voice was nearly saccharine in its fakery. A damp piece of hair fell over Rhys’ temple as the young man turned around, ass pressing up against the side of the car as he leaned up against it. He braced one hand up against the hood, the other holding the sponge against his abdomen.
“Sorry….thought it looked a little bit dirty and I figured I should…clean it.” Rhys smirked cheekily at him, hand kneading the sponge, squeezing out milky soap between his fingers. God, the wet fabric clung to every curve of his pecs, tenting around his nipples and so sheer that Jack could practically see the young man’s elegant blue tattoos through his shirt.
Jack figured he should say something, but he was still entranced by the lewd image before him. He knew he was being thoroughly played by the young man, and this meant that Rhys probably wanted something and knew he could get it by shoving his sex appeal right up into Jack’s face.
But ultimately, anything that Rhys wanted was usually something Jack was willing to give, so he didn’t feel too badly about letting the kid manipulate him.
“Mmm, you are such a busy little bee, ain’t ya pumpkin?” Jack chuckled, voice strained. He folds his arms over his chest, still deciding whether he should let Rhys finish or just pin him up against the hood until he was just as soaked as his boyfriend was.
“It’s too much of a nice day to be doing chores though. And I usually run Helios through the wash and get it a nice waxing instead of doing it the old-fashioned way.”
“Oooh, but this is hardly a chore,” Rhys purred, leaning over the dip the sponge into the yellow bucket by his feet, wet T-shirt peeling off of his body ever so slightly, his strap falling off his tattooed shoulder as he soaked up the sponge, wringing the water out sloppily into the splashing bucket. He looked up at Jack with a glossy smirk, a fleck of foamy soap running down his cheek
“I think it’s a lot of fun.”
Rhys turned and bent down to wash the shiny chrome wheels, making sure to give Jack a full view of his pretty round ass squeezed by the wet blue fabric of his shorts. Rhys was humming along to the riffs of the guitar solo when suddenly rough hands hoisted him up by the armpits and bent him over the hood of the car. Rhys let out a yelp that quickly turned into a purr as Jack pressed his crotch up against his soaked shorts.
“Jaaaack,” Rhys turned his head over his shoulder, shooting Jack a fake pout even as he rubbed his ass back against his crotch, “I’m never gonna finish like this…”
“Yeah yeah, okay, how about you let me finish first and then you can keep on…cleanin’ up.” Jack grunted, hand slipping under Rhys’ soaked shirt as he pushed forward against his boyfriend’s ass. Rhys arched his back, hand hooking over his shoulder to yank Jack’s hair, pulling his searching mouth up flush against the young man’s tattooed neck.
