Diesel

Diesel had spent the whole morning under cars. Heat clung to his fur. Grease marked his chest and arms in dark swipes. His coveralls sat tight across his hips, the fabric stretched from hours of work. He loved engines, but the long shifts left him wound tight. His breath grew sharp, his muscles stiff, his thoughts messy.

When he slid out from under the sedan, he saw polished shoes stop near his boots. He knew that uniform: Human Resources. And he knew that scent-clean musk with a hint of cedar. Arthur.

The leopard knelt with a tablet tucked under his arm.
“Diesel” he said, voice even. “Your stress numbers flagged. The ESP program triggered.”

Diesel blinked through his bangs. “Right now?”

Arthur nodded. “Right now.”

Diesel felt the tension in his chest shift into something warm. The program existed to keep workers grounded-touch, presence, guided release of stress. It always felt intimate, but Arthur took the role with quiet care.

Arthur rested a spotted hand on Diesel’s thigh. Heat spread through the bull’s leg. Diesel let his head fall back onto the concrete. His breath eased.

“You’re carrying it in your hips again” Arthur said. He pressed his thumb into the tight seam of Diesel’s coveralls. “You push yourself too hard.”

Diesel grunted. “Boss needed the cars done.”

Arthur’s hand moved slow, firm, with purpose. “And you forget you’re not a machine.”

Diesel’s body reacted. He felt his pulse gather low, felt the fabric of his coveralls tug as he shifted under Arthur’s touch. Arthur noticed. He always did. His expression stayed composed, though his tail flicked with interest.

“Talk to me” Arthur said. “Where does it hurt?”

Diesel dragged a palm across his chest, over the streaks of grease. “Shoulders. Lower back. And… you know.”

Arthur nodded once. “Then breathe. Let me help.”

He guided Diesel’s legs apart to give the bull space to settle. Diesel followed the motion, trusting him. The tension broke inch by inch as Arthur worked his hands along Diesel’s thighs. Each stroke drew a soft sound from Diesel. Not a moan-more like a rumble he couldn’t hold back.

Diesel felt his throat tighten. “Feels… good.”

“That’s the point” Arthur said. “ESP is meant to reset you.”

He cupped Diesel’s hip, fingers sliding under the edge of the open coverall flap. The touch was explicit, intimate enough to made Diesel shiver. Arthur leaned closer, his whiskers brushing Diesel’s stomach as he spoke. “Let it come up. All the need you keep pressed down.”

Diesel’s breath hitched. The warmth in his lower body pulsed hard. Arthur didn’t rush. He held Diesel’s hip with steady strength, anchored him, kept him breathing through the heat rising sharp inside him.

Arthur met his gaze with a calm, knowing look. “Then let it happen. That’s why I’m here.”

Arthur's fingers deftly unzipped the lower part of Diesel's coveralls, peeling the fabric aside to expose the bull's thick, veined cock, already hard and leaking pre-cum. The garage air felt cool against the heated flesh, but Arthur's spotted hand quickly enveloped it in warmth, his grip firm and unyielding as he stroked from base to tip.
Diesel's hips jerked upward, thrusting into the leopard's palm, the slick grease from his fur mixing with the bull's own arousal to create a slippery glide. Arthur twisted his wrist on each upstroke, thumb pressing against the sensitive underside, milking out more pre that dripped down over his knuckles. Diesel groaned deeply, his balls drawing tight as the pressure built, his shaft throbbing in rhythm with Arthur's accelerating pumps-slow and teasing at first, then faster, harder, the wet sounds echoing softly in the empty bay.

The bull's claws scraped the concrete as he arched, muscles clenching, until the coil snapped: ropes of thick cum spurting across his greased chest and Arthur's hand, the release hitting him in waves that left him panting and spent.

When he settled, Arthur slid a hand up Diesel’s chest and tapped the bull’s collarbone. “There. Better.”

Diesel lay sprawled on the warm concrete, breathing deep again, tension drained out of him.
“You’re good at this,” he murmured.

Arthur gave a faint smile. “Employee satisfaction is my job.”

“And you take it real serious.”

“I do” Arthur said. “And Diesel? Next time, call me before it gets this bad.”

Arthur’s spotted hand stayed on Diesel’s chest a moment longer—warm, steady—before he stood up.

The bull stayed where he was, loose and content, feeling the cool air pass over his skin and the last tremors fade.

The ESP Program™ worked every time.