by J. P. Oliver
“Victor—”
“You like that?” he asked, voice as rough as the rocks that dug into my palms.
“Yes,” I whined.
The corner of his mouth turned up—he looked pleased—his eyes deep and heated; intense. His lashes fluttered as he shut them and groaned, swirling his tongue through the mess he was making of me.
It was close—so, so, so close. I felt myself on the line, like I was toeing the edge of the overlook, desperate to have him fling me off the cliff into the all-consuming darkness.
“You gonna be good?” he asked, sucking a kiss to the underside. “You gonna come for me?”
I opened my mouth—yes—but the words were lost, melting into one emphatic moan as he took me back into the tight heat of his mouth.
My orgasm wracked through me, spilling down his throat. I bit down hard, trying not to be too loud, but my whole body twitched, a static collecting and dispersing all through my body. My insides felt like foam, washing up on the beach: churning, intense, wild—and then fizzling out into nothing.
I felt like I was fucking floating.
A chill ran up my spine as Victor sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist.
I blinked through the haze, meeting his eye and laughing as best as I could. I felt… messed up. In a good way. Just out of it entirely, like I was floating back down to Earth slowly. His brows arched as he surveyed my face, finally asking, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I huffed, swallowing. “That was just… holy shit.”
He smiled, earnest and pleased.
I smacked his arm lightly. “Stop.”
“High compliments from the king of giving head,” he chuckled.
I groaned, flopping back against the blanket.
“We should probably get going soon,” he added. “My place?”
“Just… give me a second.” I reached for him blindly, my breath coming back to an even keel slowly. “I can’t feel my legs right now, so just come cuddle with me.”
13
Victor
When Adrian’s legs finally started working again, we took the bike back to my place.
By then, it was late—probably around eleven—but not outrageously. Adrian, despite having what he sheepishly admitted was the best blowjob of his fucking life, wasn’t so exhausted once we got riding, trailing through the mountains back through town, up the other side of the valley to where my house was nestled.
Hugging against his back, my own cock had settled down. We didn’t fool around much after he came, which was fine with me—though Adrian insisted he’d get me back good. I didn’t mind, though. Being with him was just really nice, no matter what we were doing. I was starting to like him… a lot, actually.
We shared secrets on that overlook; things I’d never detailed to anyone before.
Plus, I just liked the little things about him. The taste of him, how he kissed, the arch of his body and his whimpering voice as he was about to come; the way he called his Harley “she” and “baby,” the things we had in common, the stark differences between us.
“You can park her in the garage overnight,” I told him as we slowed up my street. The porchlight welcomed us as we stopped, and I lugged the aluminum door up. “Not sure if it’s supposed to rain and I don’t want her to—”
“Holy. Fuck.”
I paused, watching as Adrian tore off his helmet and wheeled his bike inside. He nudged the kickstand, but his eyes were occupied with something else: my bike, propped up in the corner by my tools.
He ran his hand over the seat, the handle, before turning to me like an excited kid.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked. “You didn’t tell me your bike was a fucking Harley Sportster, you asshole.”
I chuckled, standing next to him to admire it. “You like it?”
He punched me in the arm. “I’m going to strangle you for this, Victor, I mean it.”
“Well, don’t get too excited,” I huffed. “She doesn’t work, like I said.”
“She just needs some TLC, isn’t that right?” he asked, petting the seat like it was a beloved pet. The way he was acting around it, though, he seemed truly starstruck. “Where did you even find one of these?”
“My dad,” I said, nudging a button on the wall to shut the garage. “It was his and he passed it down to me when he thought he was getting too old for that shit. Plus, Winston was never into bikes.”
“Winston doesn’t seem like he’s into most things.” Adrian crouched, admiring the engine. “You’re never too old for one of these babies. N-no offense to your dad, but I’d never give anyone this bike. I’d be buried with it so I could tear ass all over the afterlife.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been working on it for a long time. A few years. She’s almost ready, but,” I said, patting the back, “not in working condition yet.”
When Adrian looked up at me, there was a spark of possibility in his eye.
“How close are you to being done?” he asked.
I chewed my lip. “Not too far off. Just a couple more pieces to throw in. I just… haven’t had the time lately.”
“I’ll help you out.” He yanked off his jacket, then stood and tossed it casually towards a cardboard box full of Christmas decorations, and rolled up his sleeves. “With the two of us, it should be no problem, right? I’ve spent weekends upon weekends fixing up all sorts of bike issues: messed-up tailpipes, busted engines, suspension fuck-ups. We’ve got the whole weekend.”
He looked at me, pausing, second-guessing. “Unless you don’t want help?”
“No,” I shook my head and slid my toolbox over to him with my foot. “Nothing like that. You’re just—it’s hot when you talk like that.”
Adrian wagged his eyebrows and shot me a wicked grin.
“There’s plenty more bike talk where that came from,” he laughed, bending down to parse through the box. “I could tell you all about shock absorbers and mufflers, and—oof—chain lubrication?”
I nudged his shoulder with my boot, just enough to topple him over gently.
He flopped down against the concrete, his laugh bouncing around in my small garage.
“Hand me a wrench, dick,” I said, joining him on the floor.
We sat side-by-side, not giving a shit if our clothes got dirty, examining the small laundry list of things left to tend before the bike was officially rideable: making sure the seat bolts were bolted down properly, double-checking the shock absorbers, swapping out the chain set, and replacing the headlight.
The most natural interaction I’d had in a long time. Even with my family, I sometimes felt a need to perform; to make sure they weren’t worrying about me or anything I could control—like the distillery. But with Adrian, that was gone. It was just me and him, two men, bonding over something we both loved. He was smart, handled problems and puzzles well; handled his tools well, too. I watched as he lay out on his back and slithered under the tight space beneath the engine for a better look.
He also kept periodically stopping to admire something about the bike—something as small as a uniquely placed bolt—and I found that stupidly cute; I never imagined him to be the type to gush, but he was full of surprises.
“Oh, shit,” he huffed, looking at something with wide eyes. “Come take a look at this. This might be a problem.”
“Really?” I tipped my head closer to see whatever he was seeing—only for my chest to suddenly be splattered with slick grease. “What the hell—!”
“Sorry,” Adrian laughed, sitting upright. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for it, and I had to follow though—ugh!”
He squirmed away from me as I mopped the grease he’d splattered over my front with my hand and wiped it across his cheek.
“There,” I laughed. “That’s a good look for you.”
With a happy sigh, Adrian took a step back and asked, “What’s the time?”
I checked my watch. “One-oh-five in the morning.”
He clicked his tongue, p
atting my shoulder. “Write that time down. Remember that, because this baby is back online.”
“You think it’s ready?”
“Oh, yeah. Last thing left to do is test her out.” He grinned up at me. “You wanna do the honors?”
I thought about it—thought about how he’d selflessly offered to help; how he was so in awe of this bike I’d had in my garage for years.
With a shake of my head, I nudged him towards it by the small of his back. “No. You go for it.”
His eyes lit up. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack,” I chuckled, nodding for him to go ahead.
Adrian swung a leg gracefully over the bike, mounting it, hands brushing over the handles reverently, like he was touching a piece of art. He started the engine, the moment of truth—and it burst to life, the thrum of it between his legs steady and beating. He laughed, loud and proud, smiling at me like a kid who’d just gotten his dream toy.
He looked good on it.
Affection light and swelling inside me, I grabbed his helmet from his bike, tossing it to him. He caught it, fluid but surprised.
“Come on,” I said, nodding towards the garage door. “It’s not too late yet.”
Adrian blinked at me. “What—you’re gonna let me—”
“Yeah,” I chuckled, grabbing the other helmet and my jacket. “I’ll take yours if that’s all right with you—”
“Yes,” he answered instantly. “I don’t even have to think about that. Yes. Obviously. Just be good with her. She’s my baby.”
I chuckled, thrusting the garage door open again, letting in a cool waft of late-night air. All remnants of the sunny day we’d had were entirely gone. I followed Adrian as he backed the bike carefully out of the garage, flicked the headlight on, and revved the engine, once, twice, giving it a good test.
After giving a small test run up and down the wooded street, I brought down the garage and gave him the thumbs-up. We could ride as long as we wanted. Even through the shadowy glass of his helmet, I could see the unbridled joy and excitement on his face; he was loving it.
The red of his taillights wove across the empty street in front of me, his back lit by my headlights. His bike handled well, and like this I got to see him in his element, enthralled: he worked the bike with respect and care but didn’t hold back either. He wanted to see exactly what she could do.
Instead of taking the bikes through town—we wanted to avoid getting any noise complaints from all the apartments and homes clustered there—we rode them up my side of the valley, where the roads wove over long sloping hills and broke out into long patches of cleared field: where the sky took up half of the suddenly flat world and the untamed grass swept like waves when the wind touched it.
“Race you!” he shouted as he dropped back to ride next to me.
I revved my engine. We both kicked up the power, easing in and out of first, alternating down the straight and narrow stretch of road—until steadily, Adrian began to pull ahead, ripping off that old-school firepower, unstoppable, his jacket shivering in the wind.
Moonlight soaked into everything.
His taillights wove red light like streamers over the asphalt.
Adrian stood up on the bike, leaning hard against the handlebars, and let out a free shout.
We got back to my place at two in the morning.
Pushing the bikes into the garage, I pulled my helmet off, angling to ask Adrian how it felt riding her, but I was ambushed before I could even form the words. Adrian’s arm wrapped around my neck, our bodies pressed flush together, as he set his helmet down on the bike behind me.
His lips pressed hungrily to mine.
My hand found the small of his back, keeping him there, keeping us both upright.
“That was amazing,” he murmured, sliding back down, hand smoothing over my chest as he drew away. “Thank you.”
I quirked a brow. “What was that about saying thank you?”
He scoffed a laugh. “Touché.”
I shut the garage as he let himself inside through its door. Even at this hour, as we toed our shoes off and peeled our jackets back, depositing them in the mudroom, I felt alive. Electric. It was hard to believe that only hours ago, I was preparing to spend my weekend alone, driving myself crazy and anxious over the tidal wave of responsibility.
Now, Adrian was here, and I was feeling lighter than ever.
“We should probably take a shower,” he said, pausing to grimace at his own face in the hall mirror. He touched the dried grease on his cheek. “That can’t be good for your sheets.”
My sheets, I thought. He wants to stay the night.
“You don’t mind company in there, do you?” I asked.
His green eyes found mine in the reflection, and they had the devil in them.
“Race you there.”
As he broke into a run down the hall, I caught up quickly. There was no motorcycle engine to give him an advantage now. I slid past him in the hall, laughing as I heard him shout, “No.” He gripped the back of my shirt, pulling—flinging himself forward. We crowded through the living room door. I took the safer, clearer path through the dark space, shouting in surprise when Adrian bounced across the sofa, upheaving throw pillows.
He landed on the hardwood with a massive thud, stumbling into me.
I caught him in my arms, stumbling back through the foyer, slamming into the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
Adrian wasted no time, his body pressing me hard against the wallpaper. Our lips found each other messily, all enthusiasm, hot and curling. He flicked his pierced tongue against mine, the metal warmed and foreign.
I leaned into the kiss, following wherever his lips drew me—even when he pulled away, laughing quite sinisterly. He shoved me once more to the wall and bounded up the steps, skipping every other.
“That’s low,” I laughed, thundering up after him.
Adrian paused on the landing overhead, looking this way and that, before running for the second staircase.
“Why is this place so fucking big?” he shouted over the banister at me. “Three flights is too fucking many—!”
I cut him off as I swept up behind him, both of us jumping to the final landing at the same time. As my arms came around his waist, he half-laughed and half-shouted, all surprised. We almost careened into a little display in the hall—some photos on a small table—but he pulled me out of the way before I could fall on top of it, angling towards the bedroom.
My lips found his, chasing.
He fisted his hands in my shirt collar. “Shower.”
“Mmhm.”
“Really,” he groaned, my lips sucking a small mark to his neck. “Really—ahh—I don’t want to have to pay for your dry-cleaning bill.”
“You won’t have to,” I said, though I agreed; sleeping in a grease-covered bed wasn’t ideal, so we stumbled backwards across the room until the hardwood became white tile.
I slammed my hand against the light switch, illuminating the room.
Arousal coursed through me like my blood was made of it as Adrian pushed me back and worked his shirt over his head, rushed. I opened the shower door—it was all glass and white porcelain tile, with a little alcove for soap bottles—turned on the water, and shucked off my pants, boxers included. Adrian did the same, eyeing me hungrily as I worked the buttons of my dress shirt.
I looked up at him as he growled, coming after me.
His hands fisted in my half-open shirt. Our feet tangled as he backed me hard into the shower, through the spray, and against the wall. The white fabric clung to my shoulders and arms as he kissed me hard and brushed my hands out of the way.
His fingers slipped on the buttons.
With a frustrated groan, “Jesus, just—” He ripped the rest of it open.
I moaned as he ran his fingers over my exposed chest, nails raking down to my abdomen. If it were anyone else, I would have maybe been pissed about a ruined shirt, but with him in this moment, I couldn’t be bothered to
give a fuck. All I wanted—all I could think about—was him.
I pulled him in flush for another hungry kiss, our lips sliding and wet from the shower spray. My shirt fell with a wet smack to the tiles. His erection dug into my thigh, undulating softly.
The water got warmer, warmer, hot.
“You didn’t get off,” he breathed against my mouth, fingers raking up into my damp hair. “Earlier. At the overlook, you didn’t—”
“That’s fine,” I huffed. “Just this, now.”
His hand slipped between us as he fondled my cock, letting it slide between the tight web of his two fingers. The head dragged along his rough palm.
“Let me,” he finally said, and before I could protest, his lips were gone.
I opened my eyes, bleary, in time to watch him fall to his knees on the tile.
His fingers were replaced by his mouth, hot silk. Green eyes stared up at me, hypnotic, as he sucked the head behind his steam-stuck lips. Despite his prior hunger, he teased me with his tongue; it was shallow and slow, but heavy. The metal in his mouth, smooth and curved, found a pleasure in abusing its underside.
He licked along me like he would a tall ice cream cone, and every stroke stoked a fire in my body, the air around me hot, hotter in the steam, in the spray of the shower. Droplets of water slid down his cheek and temple. Black and blue locks flattened against his neck and forehead.
Kisses peppered along my shaft, until Adrian’s nose nuzzled the base and I was panting into my fingers where they twitched uselessly over my mouth.
“You can fuck into my mouth,” he muttered into my thigh, peeking coyly up at me.
I groaned, hand tracing the side of his face. He leaned up into it, hungry.
“Are you sure?” I asked, shaking at the idea.
“Yeah. I…” He paused and licked his pinked lips. “I’ve never trusted someone enough to do it before, but… I mean. If you want to.”
I felt lightheaded with the information, what was insinuated: but I do trust you.
