Chapter 25
Road
My head is so light, I feel as if I’m no longer occupying my body but standing next to it while Clyde’s fresh, masculine scent makes me drunk on his presence.
I’ve wanted this for a long time, of course I have, and I always carry the necessities on me, just in case, but the offer seems to come from nowhere, and I worry it’s a joke. I clear my throat and ask, “Are you serious?”
He won’t look into my eyes, but smiles. “Yeah.”
“And if I lose? Do… you top?” I ask, because it seems the logical conclusion, but I haven’t given that much thought before. It’s been suggested to me in the past, and I declined. I never fantasized about it either.
Clyde raises his eyebrows. “Do you want me to?”
“I mean… I’d take one for the team. It’s a game, so it’s only fair—”
He rolls his eyes. “Honestly? We both know I’m not a top.”
I have to bite back a smile, because yeah, while Clyde is eager to touch me and is a confident man overall, he always lets me lead in bed. Hearing him say it though? What a damn turn-on. “What will it be then?”
“How about your bike if you lose?”
I hiss and my mouth twists. My bike is my most precious and expensive possession, to the point that it feels like a part of me, but would I not risk it for a chance to slide into Clyde’s warm body and stuff him full of my cum? Of course I fucking would. Especially since I know he’s not really in it for the bike. He’s been nervous about taking the sex further from the start, and he’s making it into a game to make it seem less intimidating.
He wants me. I want him. And if I win this, we will have a reason to go for it.
I let my hand brush against his, and then approach the board, taking back all the darts. I can sense his gaze on me, and it’s searing hot. So hot I need to open another button at the collar. I toy with the idea of sticking my first dart straight into the bullseye, because it’s obvious we both want me to win, but I need him to know I’m willing to give this my all, so I join him by the line and shoot my first shot.
I hit a little off-center, and my heart does a backflip.
Clyde whistles. “Wow, you really don’t want to lose your bike.”
His dart lands not far from mine, so he’s not cutting me any slack. I like that. Nothing’s ever been handed to me, and I’ll work hard to get the things I want.
A part of me wants to continue with the joke, but who knows what the fuck will happen come tomorrow? We might both end up dead, and I don’t want to leave any unfinished business. “You think it’s about the bike?” I ask and glance away from his face to focus on the board. My stomach is a knot, but I manage to keep it together and again hit close to the bullseye.
I love the little smirk ghosting over his lips. Yes, I want Clyde to know how much I desire him. I want him happy about it and his ego stroked, because he deserves it.
“What else could it possibly be?”
But he’s not letting me off easy. His aim is good too, and he’s just one point behind me with his next dart. I smirk, wondering what happens if we end on a tie. Would he choose another game to play, with the same stakes?
“Something I can’t stop thinking about,” I say, breathing in as I stand in front of the board, preparing to throw the last dart. Just as I’m releasing it from between my fingers, a shriek-like laugh throws me off, and the damn thing lands way off course. I bite the inside of my cheek but don’t let anticipation eat me up. While not amazing, my shot wasn’t bad. The only way Clyde can win now is if he hits the bullseye.
Which is… not impossible. I swallow as Clyde takes his place in front of the board, dart in hand. I want to win him so badly. I can’t even focus on the bike at stake, it’s all about Clyde at this point.
I could try to distract him, like that laugh did to me, but that wouldn’t be fair, so I stand there in silence, biting on my fist.
His dart flies out of his hand and hits… the wall.
Clyde glances at me, biting his lip. “Oops. Oh no, I lost,” he says without much conviction.
I’m flooded by sunshine when he offers me that sly look, that smile I’d do almost anything for—
Everything around us blurs when I lean in, kissing him so fucking gently. There’s nothing erotic about it, but my chest feels as if it might break apart at any second.
Even the way the skin at the sides of his eyes wrinkles when he smiles is adorable.
The “What the fuck?” penetrates our bubble as if in slow motion, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s aimed at us.
Clyde flinches and steps away which makes me so furious I need a target to unleash my anger. Who fucking dares make him uncomfortable about our kiss? I heard so much about ‘the gays being shoved in our faces everywhere’ that we might as well shove someone’s face . Because I am gay, and I’m about to become someone’s worst nightmare.
“Did I hear barking?” I ask, placing my hand on Clyde’s shoulder, because I am not a fucker anyone would want to mess with.
The guy doesn’t appear so sure of himself when our eyes meet across the bar, but a buddy of his gets up. He’s got a big nose that will soon be my target, and a black tank top that should be easy enough to grab.
“This isn’t a place for you two,” he says while his friend gets up as well. He started it, so he better be ready to finish it. I’m well aware of the several onlookers who might jump into the action too, but I’ve learned how to take a beating so young I can’t even remember it, and I’ve taken on scarier opponents than these people.
Clyde scowls. “Why the fuck not, huh? Doesn’t look family-friendly to me.”
“You said nothing when those two sucked face,” I point out, gesturing at a couple in the corner. The woman scowls, as if I’ve insulted her, but the guy she’s with shushes her rather than taking offense, so I can count on him not joining the fun.
“Yeah, ‘cause they’re not fucking faggots!” Big Nose yells.
“Can’t we have one fucking bar without this bullshit?” His skinnier buddy complains, as if straight people are some persecuted minority.
But I lose it when he throws a glass of beer at us. It shatters at Clyde’s feet, and the very idea that it could have hit him turns me into a raging bull .
I walk straight at him, and I’m baffled when I see him lean back, as if my reaction is in any way surprising. I don’t look like someone who backs down from a fight. Did he assume I would because I’m into men? Because he chastised me for spoiling his night out by kissing the guy I like?
I’m close when he breaks out of his stupor and attempts to punch me, but I shove his arm off course, grab his lank hair, and slam his face into the nearest table once. Twice. Thrice. When I let go, he slips to the floor, leaving behind a red smear.
“You still have something to say?” I growl at the other guy, turning just in time to have a chair smashed against me.
“Road!” Clyde yells, but it’s too late.
The blow hurts, and I’m thrown to the side, but I instantly seek my next target. As soon as I turn, I spot Clyde grabbing the chair out of the man’s hands. He then slams it against the fucker time and time again as he screams.
I don’t have time to admire my beautiful beast in action, because I’m busy dodging a punch in the gut. I twist like the brawl is some violent ballet, and kick my would-be attacker in the nuts.
I don’t know why those two other guys have decided to fight us too, but it doesn’t matter. Blood is thudding in my ears, because tonight, I will be inside Clyde. What are a few bruises, and a split lip in the face of that ?
I send bastard number one to the floor, ready to help my—my who? Who is Clyde to me, really? Are we… dating? Is this a date? Because if it is, then it’s weirdly appropriate that we’ve ended up in a brawl.
Clyde doesn’t need my help and I almost high-five him when he throws his own opponent onto the table, which collapses along with him. I’m about to compliment his technique when the unmistakable click of a shotgun makes me glance toward the bar, where the only guy on staff stands with a two-bareled beast pointed straight at me.
“Leave.”
I raise my hands, but satisfaction still bubbles in me when I see the blood pouring from the homophobe’s nose.
Clyde shakes his head. “Really? Just because we’re gay?”
“No! Because you’re wrecking my bar!” The bartender bristles, and I push Clyde to the door, because I’m not risking him getting shot over this. We did break that table .
“Next time, let’s try a gay bar,” I say, breathing in the cool night air. My ribs still hurt from being hit with the chair, but I’ll live.
Clyde pulls on my hand despite someone smoking outside and seeing us. He’s either drunk, or that excited about me. Can’t say I’m complaining. It feels so natural to touch him.
“Let’s take my car,” he says, already jumping in. I take a quick glance at mine and decide that Clyde can give me a lift back here tomorrow.
“So that was… a warm-up I didn’t need,” I tell him, stretching in the seat. In the rearview mirror, I notice a smudge of blood beneath my mouth and wipe it off.
Clyde laughs and drives off with a screech of tires. “Did you see how I fucked up the guy with the chair? He’s gonna be finding splinters for days to come.”
“He deserved it and more,” I say and place my hand on Clyde’s thigh, squeezing as he leaves the parking space in front of the bar. How did I end up here with the man of my dreams? I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.
“For hitting you? Fuck yeah. They were lucky I didn’t want to cause even more mayhem.” And, like the reckless bastard he is, Clyde leans over to kiss me while driving.
His lips are perfect—soft, warm, inviting—I need to force myself to pull away, because we are not dying before I get to come inside him.
“I like how you can hold your own in a fight. How you get what the lifestyle’s about,” I tell him and bite my lip as he drives toward the motel at a most definitely illegal speed.
“Gay or not, I was born into it and I’ll probably die either in a fight or on the road.” And even talking about a violent death, he smiles.
“I don’t want that for you,” I say, sliding my arm to his shoulders.
“Huh?” Clyde spares me a glance, but then he’s busy turning into the motel’s parking lot. Must have only been a mile or two.
I shrug and glance at the row of doors and windows running along the wall of the single-story building. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get to retire and die in your own bed. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Clyde strokes my fingers as he parks. “Nah, I'd rather die in your bed.” He winks at me, and I’ve never felt more wanted.
My lips open, and I almost correct him by saying ‘ our bed’, but I catch myself in time and laugh. “That sounds even better.” With that, I reach for the door handle, ready to make it to the motel room .
Clyde grabs my hand. “No, wait. I’ve got…” He reaches to the back and grabs a fist-sized box. “Close your eyes.”
I hear some shuffling when I comply, the snap of a lighter, and when he lets me open my eyes, I’m stunned.
He’s holding a cupcake with a single candle lit on top of it. It’s dark, with creamy frosting and chocolate sprinkles, but it’s Clyde’s smile that’s the sweetest.
“Happy Birthday! Go on, make a wish,” he says. The light of the fire dances in his eyes, making them so warm as he watches me.
“My birth—” Oh, so that is why Prophet was upset when I canceled our movie night. I don’t really celebrate my birthday, so I always miss the date, but— “You remembered?” I mutter, staring at his face in the soft glow of the flame.
His eyes meet mine again, this time not straying anywhere to the side. In the trembling light, the blue strands making up his iris come alive, inviting me to dive in. They promise me a future I never dared to want. But I do want it.
I want him .
Not just his body. Not just the camaraderie we share.
I want him safe, happy, and at my side, always. I want to remember his birthday, I want to sleep at his side every night, and fix his damn roof.
My eyes sting, and I blink away the sudden blur in them “Nobody’s ever… given me cake.”
Clyde cocks his head. “I… doubt that. Go on, you don’t want the wax melting all over the cream. And of course I remembered.”
He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how special this is, or that it makes my heart quiver. But I don’t want to blurt out anything I shouldn’t, so I blow out the candle without making a wish, because I can’t think about anything but the fact that I’m in love with him, and that this cannot end well.
Clyde removes the candle and throws it to the back of his car, but as he passes me the treat, he leans in for another kiss. My lips tremble at the touch of his tongue as if it’s the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone. It’s ridiculous, but the feelings he elicits in me are innocent, and filthy, and so overwhelming they fill my whole heart.
He pulls away all too soon, already opening the car door. “Come on. We only have all night.”