5. Basher
BASHER
It was his third shift this week, and Basher was really starting to get the hang of things.
He worked the door with Niko and Caden, alternating between the two.
Caden was worse than a woman when it came to chatting up a storm.
He talked about his gym routine, the bike he rode, and hell, he even talked about the fights he and his boyfriend had when they weren’t off sneaking in a quick fuck behind the trucks in the back parking lot.
Basher was starting to think that the two might have some sort of public-fucking fetish. They always seemed to be fucking somewhere in public.
Hell, to each their own.
Niko, on the other hand, was a lot calmer than Caden. Yes, he talked more than Basher would have liked, but he never pried or talked just for the sake of talking.
He liked Niko. Niko was cool in that badass, chill kind of way. He was big, built as fuck, and had a way of making grown men piss themselves just by giving them a simple glare.
“So, was it just the one time that you were in prison?” Niko asked in a thick Russian accent.
Basher nodded.
“I—I’ve never been in prison. Caden has, but I have not. I don’t think I would do well in prison. Too many people, not enough space. I would probably kill a lot of men and then get stuck in there forever.”
Basher chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not a place I would recommend. Unless you like showering with dudes and sleeping with one eye open.”
Niko shrugged. “Before I started dating my fiancé, Reid, I had a lot of threesome sex with Blade.”
Basher turned, unsure whether he had heard Niko correctly.
“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that,” Blade said, stepping onto the sidewalk in front of them. “It makes it sound like you and I had sex together.”
“But we did,” Niko argued, shrugging his shoulders forward like that was going to convince them all.
Blade shook his head and turned to face Basher. “What he means is that we shared women together. Him on one side, me on the other. It was sort of our thing. Then Ace laid claim to my dick, and I became his sole property.”
“So, you’re gay but never sucked his dick?” Basher asked, pointing at Niko.
Blade shook his head.
“No, I was in my closeted-gay stage. Having sex with a woman while in bed with another naked man was about as close as I came to gay sex before Ace.”
Niko wrapped his arm around Blade’s shoulders.
“It’s okay. I always knew you liked my dick while we do threesome,” Niko added, pulling his friend in for a side hug.
“Again. We never actually had sex,” Blade huffed, pushing out from under Nikolai. “One of these days, Ace is going to get the wrong impression, and then he is going to come out and cut your balls off.”
Niko laughed. “That puny can’t reach my balls.”
Blade shook his head and glanced at Basher. “Good luck working with this one, man.” He pulled open the bar door, then stepped inside.
Basher chuckled. He liked these guys. They were chill, friendly, and didn’t have a problem with ribbing each other.
“Are you going to be alright if I head inside to take a leak?” Basher asked, reaching for the door.
Niko nodded; his attention was suddenly focused on a guy and a girl getting hot and raunchy on the hood of a car.
It was wild how a small, nothing town could be filled with so many hot and horny people, all looking for a way to get off.
Vegas, he understood. That was Sin City, and everyone went there in search of a good time. But Baton, New Mexico?
Stepping inside, the bar was no different. All around him was noise and chaos.
Basher couldn’t help but smile. This place reminded him of home.
As he moved through the bar, he watched women take shots, cheered on by burly men. There were couples making out in dark corners, while others played pool and took turns pouring pitchers.
The clientele at Ride ’em Hard was mostly bikers and wild chicks, or recently divorced men and women. There was something about getting divorced that made people want to go out and fuck a biker.
That was Basher’s experience, anyway.
He couldn’t count the number of recently divorced people who came to Vegas looking for biker cock. The amount of action his buddies got was almost laughable when you considered the number of hours in each day and a man’s ability for his balls to recharge.
As Basher walked through the bar, he passed a booth where a woman was dry humping her man. She had a beer in one hand as she held onto his shoulder with the other.
Priorities were clear.
Dick and booze.
As he passed the bar, his gaze drifted—and met Cameron’s. The young bartender smiled at him as he poured a pint.
Heat crept into Basher’s cheeks; he dipped his head in acknowledgment and kept walking toward the restroom.
There was something about the boy. His soft blue eyes. His warm, welcoming smile. All of it did funny things to Basher’s stomach.
He’d been with men before—usually strangers picked up at truck stops or in the shadows of some dim, rundown bar. It was never hard to find someone willing, someone looking for the same quick, no-strings escape in a place where no one asked questions.
They never exchanged names, just pulled out their dicks and spent the next twenty minutes getting hot and sweaty.
But locking eyes with the stunning young man, Basher wondered what it would be like to hear him call out his name as he fucked him slow and deep. That perfectly plump ass, those gorgeous red lips. All of it made Basher’s dick extremely hard.
Standing in front of the urinal, Basher pulled out his cock, then waited for his semi to go down just enough for him to release his bladder and take a fuckin’ piss. The last thing he needed was one of the guys walking in and seeing him standing at the urinal, half erect and staring at a wall.
Finally, he was able to relax and do what needed to be done.
Once Basher finished, he washed his hands and exited the restroom.
As he walked toward the front, he glanced over at the bar but didn’t see his favorite bartender.
A quick scan of the room, and he spotted the normally cheery boy standing on the far side of the bar, hands on his hips, looking not so pleased to be speaking to someone sitting in one of the booths.
Curious, Basher made his way toward the booth, hoping to overhear what was being said.
“I told you, I don’t want no faggot serving me my beer,” the asshole sitting in the booth snarled, smirking as his two buddies continued to egg him on. “Now go get that pretty little lady with the big tits to come and bring me another beer.”
“Oh, look, another homophobic jackass, showing his insecurities,” Cameron snipped, reaching for the beer, before the bully in front of him grabbed him by the wrist.
Basher instantly saw red. His ears became clogged, and rage filled his veins.
“Is there a problem here?” Basher asked, stepping up next to Cameron and glaring down at the asshole in front of him.
“Yeah, I didn’t realize this was a homo bar when me and my buddies came in for a beer.”
Stepping in front of Cameron, Basher grabbed the man by the shirt and yanked him to his feet.
The whole table shifted, spilling beers and knocking over two of the pints.
“Hey? What the fuck?” one of the men from across the table yelled as he stood up quickly to avoid any beer spilling on his jeans.
Basher held the homophobic asshole up to his face as he snarled.
“You owe this man an apology.”
“What? Fuck that shit—” The man’s sentence was interrupted by the sound of his face smashing into the table.
“Let’s try that again,” Basher growled, hauling the man up once more. Blood spilled from his mangled nose, running thick and dark down his shirt.
The man looked terrified. His buddies sitting across from him all backed away, not wanting to get involved in whatever was happening.
“I-I’m sorry,” the man stuttered, clinging to Basher’s fists, which were still firmly wrapped around his shirt.
“For what?” Basher asked, grabbing the man by the back of the neck and giving him a firm squeeze.
“Uh… for calling you a faggot.”
“Basher, everything okay here?” Marcus’s voice suddenly boomed from behind him.
Basher was pissed and didn’t give a fuck if the man behind him fired him. The one thing he didn’t stand for was bullies treating people like shit. It didn’t matter their gender or sexuality; no person deserved to be talked down to or intimidated.
Too many people just stood by and watched as the bullies flexed their power and attempted to take what they wanted.
“Just teaching this homophobic asshole some manners,” Basher answered, slamming the douchebag’s face into the table once more.
The men around them jumped, startled by the force with which their buddy's face hit the table.
They would remember this night. The way their friend’s head smashed into the solid table, and the way blood burst from his broken nose.
Basher could feel his dick get hard.
Was it the violence? The excitement? Or the knowledge that he was getting justice for the sexy, cheerful bartender who never stopped smiling. Guys like Cameron deserved all the happiness.
“Is that so?” Marcus asked, glaring at the rest of the men cowering around the table. “We don’t serve assholes like you here. Basher, how ’bout you show them to the door? They’re never to step foot in this bar again.”
With that, Basher tightened his grip on the quivering man’s neck and roughly escorted him toward the door.
All around them, the rest of the bar looked on with horror, curiosity, and morbid fascination. Even the woman riding her man stopped to watch as Basher escorted the beaten man out of the bar.
“Next time, don’t hog all the fun,” Nikolai grumbled, holding open the bar door as Basher threw the scumbag out onto the street.
Following close behind, the man’s friends stumbled out, helping their buddy to his feet as they cursed and swore at everyone around them.
Basher gave a smirk, watching as the men turned and ran off the second Nikolai and Caden took a step toward them.
Fucking pussies. All talk, but no balls.
Turning back toward the bar, Basher locked eyes with Cameron, who was smiling at him as if Basher had just offered him the sun.
Ace and another twink named Lucas wrapped their arms around Cameron, checking to see if he was okay and offering him support.
Basher gave Cameron a nod. The boy looked okay. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed by the way Cameron stood up to those men, not taking any shit from any of them.
Cameron probably could have taken care of himself, but Basher was too enraged not to step in. He hated seeing people get bullied. It probably stemmed from his childhood, but seeing a sweet guy like Cameron get bullied had Basher seeing red.
No one deserved to be talked down to or made to feel less than human, no matter their color, gender, ability, or sexual orientation.
Basher wasn’t having any of it.
“Maybe next time, try not getting so much blood on my tables,” Marcus whispered as he stopped next to Basher.
Eyes still locked on Cameron and his friends, Basher responded, “But if there’s no blood, did it even really happen?” Basher turned and smirked at his new boss.
Marcus chuckled. “I think I’m going to like having you around.”