Rowan Doherty 15.
Without an ounce of shame, I lightly press my hand to my cheek, my eyes tracking Steve as he runs out of the clubhouse as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if he hasn’t turned my entire world upside down. I can still feel the ghost of his lips on my skin. I’m pathetic.
I’ve been a prospect for the Golem Guerillas Motorcycle Club for almost a year now. I know I should be itching to patch in, and for a lot of reasons I am, but I enjoy what I do here. Despite my years as a Morgantown police officer, I have made more of a difference in my city, and the lives of its citizens than I ever have as a cop. It’s sad but true. Between the GGMC, Pres and Etta on city council, Chief Thomas, and Biscuit and Runs in the District Attorney’s office, the city has been cleansed…deeply, but I know as well as anyone that we have miles to go until peace. And I’m here for it with my badge on my chest, my leather on my shoulders, and my gun at my hip.
Thinking about Steve, his lips, and that fucking ass of his, I feel that everything yet to come would be easier to deal with if he was by my side. Alas, it can’t be, and I understand that. Steve is one of those reasons I wouldn’t mind patching in sooner rather than later, except it isn’t up to me. I know I’ve proven myself to the club, but it’s up to Jupiter and the others to determine if I’ve proven myself enough to be a brother.
“So…when are you gonna tell him?” Sighing, I glance up to find Finley smirking at me. I shake my head at Dungarees’ ol’ partner, and pick up a glass, fill it with ice, then use the soda gun to add Finley’s favorite beverage, before sliding it over the bar top to her. She sips it, her entire posture relaxing as the caffeine hits her bloodstream. Chuckling at her predictable reaction, I busy myself behind the bar, so I don’t have to look at her.
“Tell who what?”
“Wow.” I look up in time to see her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Maturity isn’t a job requirement for the police, huh?”
“Is maturity a requirement to be a pain in my ass?” I mock…immaturely.
“Nope, Drusilla is incredibly immature and from what I just heard from the Hospitality Specialists, she’s the sole cause of pain in everyone’s downtown region.”
“Hmph.” I did not enjoy overhearing that particular conversation. Just as I haven’t enjoyed watching Steve suck Lexington’s or Heimdall’s cocks. That’s a lie, it was hot as fuck, but I wished I was the one orchestrating the activity. Teasing Steve’s arousal, edging him until he’s delirious with the need to cum, challenging him to swallow more and more of whoever’s cock I choose. His pleasure at my command.
Finley places her hand over mine, stilling it against the bar top. “Ro, just tell him.”
“I can’t.” I withdraw my hand and resume my pointless cleaning. “I’m a prospect and prospects aren’t permitted to utilize the Hospitality Specialists. Not to mention, he seems to love his role here, it’s not my place to take that away from him or alter it.”
“It could be.” I meet her eyes, “Your place, I mean. And you don’t know that about the prospects, nothing has ever been said. Just ask Jupiter.”
“Fin, I’m a prospect. We don’t question, we don’t challenge, we just do what we’re told.”
Her smirk reappears, “And it’s killing you, isn’t it? Playing the sub?” I bark a laugh and shake my head at her.
“Doing my job is not playing the sub.”
“But you’d rather be the dom. Steve’s dom.” My eyes drift to the door as I picture him again, his mischievous smile just before he lifted on his toes to kiss my cheek. “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything, I can see everything I need to know right there.” She points at my face, so I smack her hand away with the wet towel. “I think you’ve figured out by now, Ro, the golems aren’t like anyone else, they aren’t like any other motorcycle club out there. Standard practice out there,” her hand waves toward the door, “doesn’t apply here. Clarify the rules, then finally take what is yours.” I nod curtly as she slides off the stool in front of me. She takes two steps before spinning around, her eyes wide in alarm, “Take with permission! Don’t just take Steve without asking him first!”
“Dungarees!”
“Yeah, man?” he hollers from the general vicinity of the kitchen.
“Come get your woman!”
“Rowan Doherty—” Finley starts, her hands fisted at her sides, a scowl on her pretty face. Before she can do more than say my name, Dungarees runs into the clubroom, scoops her up and over his shoulder and hauls ass back down the hall with her pounding on his back and screaming to be let down.
Good for him. Dungarees has been through some shit. Even before his time in the military, life wasn’t easy for him from what I’ve gathered, and it certainly wasn’t easy after he was discharged. It took him a while, but he has found his footing with the support of the Golem Guerillas. Just like so many here, this brotherhood, this chosen family has given each of us what we could never find out there.
Hope. I have it in abundance these days. You can’t rush destiny, everything in life happens exactly when it’s supposed to. I hope when our time arrives, I’m the right man for him.