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Ford is gone, Stan is here, and Fiddleford is learning to be useful again.
or,
“Sure, lemme at it. But be careful, Specs, maybe I’ll come for your job.” Stan joked behind him, voice too close to his ear. Fiddleford shifted, getting ready to step up and out of the way, before Stan reached around his waist to grab the discarded iron from the floor, narrowly missing his hip. Fidd froze, stuck in position as the larger man adjusted behind him and leaned closer, angling his body so he could watch over his shoulder. Stan’s front hovered just an inch away from his back, both arms almost brushing his waist as he focused on the task in front of him, hot breath practically dancing along Fidd’s neck.
“Like this, yeah?” Stan’s voice came like a rumble, quiet and deep, vibrating in the small space between the two.
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THEY DID THE NASTY 3 TIMES!!!0-0
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Very cool 😎