"I think it's this level. Can never remember... LAX is so fucking huge," says Viggo good-naturedly, peeking around a corner. "Ah, yes! There it is!"

Sean follows, suitcases in tow. He can't wait to get to Viggo's house and shower this latest layer of transatlantic grime off his body. And then execute his carefully-planned, errr, plan to finally, after years of fruitless yearning, seduce his friend. Everything must be just right.

They stop in front of a small, silvery-blue, sleek and somewhat teardrop-shaped car. Sean gapes at it. It looks like something out of a science fiction film -- a bad science fiction film.

"Like it? It's a hybrid. Fuel-efficient. Clean! Gets 65 miles per gallon!" Viggo is beaming proudly, as if he's just won an award or had a baby.

But it's going to take a lot more than statistics to convince Sean. Especially as he stuffs his bags into the hatchback and stuffs his long-legged frame into the passenger seat -- the only available seat, as it turns out. He secretly admits it looks pretty futuristic inside, but damn, it feels rather like sitting in a cocoon.

"A bit small, don't you think?" He taps the ceiling, eyebrow raised in cynicism, and Viggo smiles.

"I like to think of it as cozy." Viggo suddenly curls forward and stretches his arm out towards the opposite door, trapping his cowering passenger. "Don't you think it's cozy, Sean?"

Their faces hover mere inches apart. Sean begins to sweat, adding to the layer of grime already waiting to be showered off. He fixates on Viggo's upper-lip scar, and aches to lick it... it's right there... and oh, so well-defined up close...

No, he tells himself. Can't do it just yet. Not part of the plan. Fingers shaking, he reaches for the seatbelt and buckles himself in. Safety. "I... uhhh... Yeah. Look, can we get going? Need to shower, yeah?"

"Sure." Viggo retreats cheerfully and switches on the ignition. He revs the little car's engine, and it purrs smoothly (one could even say 'happily'). As they drive out of the car park, Sean slowly nods off, the jetlag and exhaustion finally taking their toll.

***

He wakes with a jolt when Viggo honks the horn -- repeatedly -- as they fly past a large SUV dealership. "Polluters! Planet killers!" Viggo shouts gleefully at a salesman and two customers, who are standing at the front of the lot checking out a monster-sized truck.

"What the fuck was that, Vig?" They roll to a stop at the traffic light, and Sean wipes the sleep from his eyes.

"What?" The voice of innocence. "I'm not the one doing something wrong."

"Please. Shouting at passersby? What good is that?" The light turns green and the little car zooms forward. Even Sean has to admit the engine is pretty good. Peppy, even. You'd never even know it was a granola car.

"They need to be shown the error of their wasteful ways."

"Y'know, for a peacenik, you can be pretty fucking rude sometimes."

The car swerves to the right and stops abruptly at the curb. Viggo's face suddenly swoops close to Sean's. "I'll be good from now on," Viggo whispers coyly, burying his face into Sean's neck and nuzzling it. "Promise."

Oh god. Not part of the plan! Not part of the plan! But christ, is that his tongue... ?

"It's just that hybrids perform much better than regular cars," Viggo rasps in between sharp nips at Sean's earlobe.

Make a joke. Anything. "Uhhh, maybe it's more like, 'You perform better in a hybrid'?"

"Ha. Ha. You're so funny, Sean." Apparently Viggo won't be deterred for a second; his tongue continues its explorations, this time of the inner curves of Sean's ear, and Sean bites his lip to keep from crying out. "I've always found that so sexy about you."

Moment of truth. Say something, you idiot. Not in the plan! Then Viggo's past-five-o'clock-stubble scrapes Sean's neck. And if there's one thing that Sean really likes -- there are many, in fact -- it's the harsh scrapey burn of another man's stubble.

He half-gasps, half-grumbles and tries to stretch out, but only succeeds in bumping his head against the passenger window. "Oww, fuck! I take back every nice thing I've ever thought about this bloody hippie-mobile."

He's rewarded with a laugh -- and a long, sensual, full-throat lick -- then Sean finds his jeans being unzipped. He hears the whirrr of the ignition being shut off, the engine winding down but preparing to recharge the battery.

Not in the bloody plan! But he's already spent so much energy -- too much -- alternating between wanting Viggo no matter what and chiding himself for being too scared to do anything about it. Fuck it. Just take your chance. He tilts his head, bares his neck in obvious invitation, and closes his eyes.

***

Despite it being a warm evening, the car windows are already fogging up. Not bad for ten minutes of making out, Sean thinks. Though he wonders if most of the hot air hasn't been coming from Viggo's mouth...

"... It's all about the cylinders, see." Viggo's hand, aided by occasional licks and lots of spit, has been stroking languidly along Sean's stiff cock during most of this long-winded lecture. It definitely isn't the scene Sean envisioned in the plan, but with someone as nutters as Viggo, you had to take your chances. And not interrupt.

Viggo's hand movement finally takes on a definite purpose -- a firm and confident one -- and Sean arches into it. Lets himself go, lets himself feel...

"Cylinders, I said. Aren't you listening?"

"What? Huh?" Fuck, the guy was good at this, even if he couldn't quit proselytizing about his silly hippie car. And to have any touch from Viggo after all the wanting and needing and chiding-of-self -- it's happening, it's really him...

As if slamming on the brakes, Viggo stops stroking and adopts a serious tone. "Sean. Bigger engines have more cylinders. Right?"

"Wh... ahhh... What of it? Why is that important?" Just keep the guy talking. Okay. Yes. That's the new plan.

That seems to work; the sweet pressure of Viggo's palm and fingers start up again, and Sean sighs in relief. "Because the cylinders need fuel every time the engine fires, even if the car isn't moving. And inside each cylinder is a piston" -- Sean cries out loud as Viggo's thumb hits a particularly sensitive spot, then the lecture continues -- "and it takes energy for the piston to move within the cylinder. So less cylinders equals a smaller engine equals better for the environment."

Viggo pauses again. Mostly for breath. "Wanna hear how the car's design reduces the drag coefficient?"

"Fuck, no... uhhh, yes. Yes! Please!" Sean isn't above begging shamelessly at this point. He's so close, it feels so fucking good, it's too hot and steamy in this fucking Smurf-sized granola wagon, christ...

"Ultimately, the goal is to reduce emissions," Viggo says quickly, smart enough to know when to wind things up. His tongue flicks out like a lizard's as he bends down and swallows the head of Sean's cock. Just in time too, because Sean immediately comes, shaking hard, not believing his luck and thinking that perhaps 'best-laid plans' are an overrated concept.

Licking his lips and smiling, Viggo quips, "Though of course, it's good environmental practice to recycle, too."

Sean has no comeback for that; he's too spent to care anyway. Besides, now it really is time for Viggo to shut up. And thankfully, Viggo does.

***

A few minutes and an unexpected hug later, Sean stirs in his seat and remembers his manners. "Ummm. Thanks, Vig. I mean... uhh... wow. I want to, ummm, you know... reciprocate..."

"I know. Lots of time, you're here for two weeks. Let's get you home and into that shower first, okay?"

Sean grins, excited by the possibilities but too exhausted to think about them; all he can manage to do is stroke the back of Viggo's hand as it rests on the steering wheel. "Sounds like... uhh, a plan. Thanks."

"And maybe after dinner and a nap, you'd be interested in hearing why hybrids don't need to be plugged in like electrics." Viggo smiles brightly as he starts up the car.

"Plugged in? Hmmm... oh. OH. Yeah, I think that could a valuable lesson indeed, Vig."

Sean's peripheral vision picks up a flash of movement outside. He looks out and suddenly realizes where they've been parked for the last twenty minutes: in the back-lot of the SUV dealership.

What's worse, the salesman from earlier is approaching -- minus the two customers, thankfully. Oh, christ. Sean slumps down into his seat, wishing for a cloak of invisibility.

Just as the salesman smiles at them, Viggo slams on the gas and the car lurches into gear. "Polluter! Planet killer!" Viggo cackles madly as the car peels out of the lot -- only to be stopped by a police officer and his trusty radar gun two blocks later.