9. Chapter 9
HERO
The sun is starting to set by the time I pull my Harley into the driveway.
Before I’ve even put the kickstand down, Onyx steps out onto the front porch and stops to lock the door behind him.
He’s wearing a pair of tight jeans, like usual, and those same rainbow suspenders he had on the first time I met him, hanging uselessly at his sides, for fashion rather than actual support.
I can see the socks he borrowed from me this morning sticking out of his Chucks, and he’s finished the outfit with a vintage band tee and a flourish of eyeliner.
He looks every bit the rockstar he is, and my heart thunders as he strides over to climb on the back of my bike.
“Here.” I shrug off my heavy leather jacket with the Ink Slingers club logo stitched onto the back and a rainbow flag patch on the right shoulder.
Onyx gives me a skeptical look when I shove it towards him.
“Come on, I’m protecting my time investment.
I put way too much blood, sweat, and tears into those tattoos to see them scraped off against the unforgiving road if we wipe out. ”
He cringes. “There’s a fucking image for you.”
“Exactly.” I chuckle, pulling my helmet off next and handing that to him too. We’re barely two miles from the bar, so it’s no big deal, but I’ll breathe easier knowing he’s covered. Later this week we can stop over at Basket Case Bikes to get him a helmet and proper bike jacket of his own.
Onyx huffs at me but slides the helmet on too.
Then he wraps his arms around my waist and shuffles close, pressing himself up against my back all nice and snug.
I make a happy sound in my throat and guide my bike back down the driveway.
I’m half tempted to go straight past the turn towards Wooley’s and take him to Milwaukee after all.
He’s going to be bored to tears at a townie bar like this.
He said he wanted to come here though, so maybe it’s all part of his relaxed, vacation mindset.
Like people who insist on skipping the tourist spots and going where the locals go when they travel.
Or nostalgia. He was too young to drink when he moved away from Fall Crosse, but maybe he had a fake ID and is dying to remember the good old days of sneaking into Wooley’s for an illegal drink or two.
I pull into the parking lot and roll right into line with the row of Harleys already parked in front of the bar.
I miss the heat of Onyx’s body as soon as he slides off the back of my bike.
He takes the helmet off and shakes his head to get his hair back to its usual artfully messy state.
Longing tugs at my gut, and it takes me just a second to realize there’s no reason I have to stop myself from kissing that sweet, relaxed smile right off his lips, so I swing my leg over to dismount my bike and wrap an arm around his waist to pull him in for a slow, deep kiss.
He hums against my lips. “What was that for?”
“Didn’t know I needed a reason to kiss you.” I chuckle, wrapping my fingers around his loose suspenders and resting my forehead against his.
“You don’t need a reason, you’re just usually more…” He shrugs. “I don’t know, cautious, I guess?”
“I figured you wanted your privacy. If I kiss you in public, it could end up trending on social media or something. I didn’t think you wanted that.
I’ve never seen pictures of you with your tongue down anyone else’s throat, so you must be pretty careful about keeping your personal life under wraps. ”
“There’s a reason you haven’t seen pictures of me with anyone else.” Another smile twists on Onyx’s lips. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to tell me I’m a fucking idiot. Why I’m an idiot this time, I have no damn clue. “Ask me how many people I’ve fucked in the last four years.”
My gut twists and I shake my head, untangling his suspenders from around my knuckles and leaning back a little.
“I’d rather not know about anyone else.”
He sighs and pats my cheek with his free hand. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
He kisses the tip of my nose, and I let the tension in my stomach unwind. It really doesn’t matter who else he’s fucked. He’s here now, and that’s all I care about.
I take my helmet from him and set it on my seat. This time Onyx is the one shaking his head, a look of wonder dancing in his eyes.
“I forgot what it’s like to live somewhere where everyone is too nice to steal your shit.” He chuckles. “One time I sat down on my stoop and took my shoes off to shake the pebbles out of them, and someone jogged by and snatched them while I was sitting right there .”
“Gotta love Fall Crosse,” I say flippantly, reaching for his hand without thinking. I’m about to pull back, but he catches my hand and twines his fingers between mine.
“Come on—” He tugs me towards the door. “—I want to kick your ass at a game of darts.”
ONYX
As a gay teen growing up in Fall Crosse, I lost count of how many nights I sat in the parking lot of Wooley’s and wondered what it was like inside a gay bar.
As I scan the dimly lit bar, that teenage part of me does a giddy dance inside of me.
It’s not at all what I expected, but it’s so…
Fall Crosse. It looks like any other Wisconsin bar, with wood paneling on the walls and a Brewers game on the TV behind the bar.
Except there’s a rainbow flag on the wall, a collage of pictures of happy gay couples, and everywhere I look, men are cozying up with other men.
The man behind the bar with his long blond hair pulled into a messy bun greets Hero with a wave, raising his eyebrow and pointing at the beer tap. Hero nods and holds up two fingers.
“That’s cute. The bartender knows you so well you can order without saying a word.” Do I sound jealous? Maybe just a smidge.
Talking about exclusivity never made sense when we never even had the relationship talk.
We only see each other a few times a year, after all.
If Hero had asked me outside like I told him to, I would have told him the truth, that I haven’t even looked at anyone else since we met. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t.
He rumbles a laugh, leaning in a little closer so his warm breath tickles my skin.
“He’s married.”
The little knot of jealousy inside my chest loosens.
We make our way over to the table where the rest of the guys are already gathered.
Arrow has a cute blond twink on his lap and Piston’s arm is around a man who looks closer to my age and has big, doey heart eyes for the biker.
Arrow introduces his boyfriend, Lewis, and Piston’s man jumps up out of his seat and looks at me with wide eyes.
“Holy shit, do you know who you are?”
I sputter a laugh. “That’s possibly the most existential question anyone has ever asked me without a cloud of marijuana smoke billowing between us.”
“Be cool, kid,” Hero says, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze.
“Sorry.” He visibly takes a deep breath and then makes a show of blowing it out slowly and pulling himself together. “I’m Milo, and you’re Onyx, lead guitarist for Black Sheep, which is totally chill and normal and I’m not at all about to lose my shit and fanboy all over you. Okay, cool.”
I choke on another laugh and untangle my fingers from Hero’s to shake Milo’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Milo.”
He stares at my hand as he shakes it, then looks over at Hero’s hand like he’s just putting two and two together.
“Wait, are you guys…?” He whips back around to look at everyone else at the table accusingly. “Did everyone know this but me?”
Piston laughs and reaches out to hook his fingers through Milo’s belt loops and tug him onto his lap. “I’m pretty sure Hero said to chill .”
“Hey, don’t blame Milo. Not knowing how to be cool in public is really down to poor parenting,” Jag says wisely.
Milo snorts and Hero gives Jag a dry look.
“Wait…” I look between Hero and Milo, finally noticing the similarities. “Is this…” I remember him mentioning a son he’d just met and hadn’t known about for years the last time we were together.
“Hero’s surprise son, that’s me.” Milo beams and waves.
“That’s wild.” I shake my head and slide into one of the empty seats.
The bartender makes his way over and hands off our drinks to Hero, checking whether anyone else needs a refill. Then, Hero slides into the seat next to me and sets one of the beers down in front of me.
The conversation that petered off when we arrived picks right back up around us, all the guys talking over each other and laughing, meandering from one topic to another.
Tattoos, their bikes, plans for the summer, who’s responsible for the colorful dicks…
Clearly, I’m missing some context there.
Hero’s foot nudges against mine under the table and I just happily settle in and follow the loud banter.
I have no clue why Hero wanted to go all the way to Milwaukee when this is right here.
Maybe he doesn’t realize how fucking cool it is that he has friends like these; people he has inside jokes with, people who know him.
I sip my beer slowly and reach for his hand under the table.
It’s easy to slip into a fantasy that this is what it could be like if I decide to stay here.
I could become part of this off-the-wall family of bikers who love to give each other shit, their laughter booming through the quiet bar as they throw loving barbs at each other.
I glance over at Hero and tug my lip ring between my teeth.
Assuming Hero would even want me to stay.
He’s the one who’s always shied away from the relationship talk, just like he did earlier in the parking lot.
Maybe it’s silly of me to think he might want anything more than what we have right now.
He squeezes my fingers and glances over at me, catching my eye before I can play it cool and look away.
A smile tugs at his lips, filling my gut with a warm, wanting feeling that’s all slowly strummed strings and warm cinnamon.
“Darts?” he says, and I nod.
I down the rest of my beer and push my seat back, and Hero does the same.
“You’ve been quiet,” he says as we make our way over to the dartboard. “Sorry Milo was a little starstruck, and I know the guys can be a lot—”
I put my hand over his mouth to stop him, grinning. “I’m just relaxing and enjoying not being the center of attention. Milo seems like a sweetheart, and it’s totally your fault for not warning him before he met me.”
Hero’s eyes soften and I lower my hand so he can respond.
“What was I going to say? ‘Hey, nice to meet you, son. By the way, I’ve been having casual sex a few times a year with a rockstar. You might have heard of him.’”
I snort a laugh, but then my stomach flutters with nerves and I bite my lip ring again.
“Would it be less complicated if you just called me your boyfriend while I’m here?” I turn away quickly and pluck all of the darts out of the board instead of giving in to the urge to study Hero’s reaction.
He’s quiet for so long that my heart nearly beats all the way out of my chest and my ears fill with an anxious sound similar to the feedback when you plug in an electric guitar.
And then he clears his throat, and his fingertips tentatively brush along my forearm like he wants to reach for me but he’s not sure he should.
“Sure, if you think that’s easier.”
I let out a rush of breath then turn back towards him with the most casual smile I can manage.
“Less graphic than telling them that no one fucks me like you do.” I waggle my eyebrows, and Hero blushes just a little, his eyelids drooping in that sexy way I can never get enough of.
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, until his lips are an inch from mine. My pulse explodes into a gallop, and my smile widens. Is he going to kiss me right here in front of a bar full of people?
“You know, I’ve known you for four years, but I feel like I hardly know anything about you. I want to change that while you’re here. I…” He swallows hard. “I think I’m okay if it hurts when you leave.”
My heart leaps. It’s not a confession that he’s fallen in love with me or that he wants the boyfriend label to be real, but it’s something. It’s proof that this is more than just sex for him too.
He catches my lips, and music explodes across my skin, raising the hairs on my arms and drawing a smile to my face as we move together in a slow, sweet kiss. The guys catcall and whistle, and I laugh into Hero’s mouth.
“How about this as a way to get to know each other.” I untangle myself from the kiss and hand him half the darts. “Each round, whoever scores the highest gets to ask one question that the other person has to answer.”
“You’re on,” he agrees.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, savoring the lingering taste of his mouth as he gets into position to take the first shot. He lands it in the forty and then steps aside so I can take my turn. I close one eye to aim and hit the twenty.
“Your question.” I roll the four darts I have left between my hands.
“What’s your favorite movie genre?” Hero asks.
“I’m always a sucker for anything queer, but mainly comedies.”
He nods and steps up to take another turn. I win the next round and ask him the same question.
“I’m so boring,” he hedges, rubbing the back of his neck. “Documentaries.”
“Why is that boring?” I scoff. “You’re such a weirdo.” I kiss the tip of his nose, and we go again.
There’s something so low pressure about the cadence of the game and the low stakes questions we barter back and forth. Favorite color, favorite food, most embarrassing secret… It feels like a first date even though we’ve known each other for years. It feels like the start of something real.