Dylan POV
I shove the papers to the side and lean back in the chair. Done. I’m finally fucking done.
My eyes drift out the window to my bike parked outside. These past three months have been strange as hell.
I went from doing the absolute shit work, scrubbing toilets, cleaning up vomit and blood after wild parties, to this.
Blaze had argued hard that I shouldn’t have to do any of that as his partner, saying they didn’t make the women do it.
But I’m a prospect, so I told him I didn’t want special treatment.
I wanted to earn my patch the same as everyone else.
So yeah, I scrubbed toilets. I cleaned up piss and puke. I earned my way up to working on bikes. I’m still not great at it, but Blaze taught me the basics on slow afternoons.
Then they pulled me into church one day and said I was wasted on mechanical work.
Instead, they gave me a more business-focused role, something I actually knew from growing up in my father’s world.
Numbers, routes, deals. I also came in handy when we needed certain resources.
Sometimes I’d call Dante and my sister, and they’d agree to let us use their connections.
I don’t miss the dirty looks from some of the other prospects though.
In three months I’ve passed most of them. I’ve earned more trust than a lot of them have. I’ve also heard the muttering, that it’s only because I ride Blaze’s cock and get special treatment.
It’s bullshit. I did everything they did. We’ve lost four prospects in that time. Two that Blaze nearly beat to death after they tried shit with me. One who ran. And one I shot myself.
Everyone was fine with Blaze being gay. But for some reason, so many of them don’t like me as a prospect. It ended up in homophobic slurs, attempts to hurt me, and Blaze losing his temper more than once.
“Little Rabbit.”
I shake my head as Blaze steps into the room.
“I’m working,” I say firmly. I can’t have him pulling me away and fucking me, then me getting away with it.
“Not anymore.”
“Blaze,” I warn.
He laughs and leans against the wall. “Echo wants you in church.”
Shit. “Did something go wrong with the route? Dante swore he’d keep it open.”
“No idea. Come on.” He walks off and I follow.
“I’ll call Dante and get it sorted, I swear.” I should have fucking known things would fuck up.
Stepping into church, I sit down. The only time I ever join these meetings is when it involves Dante, so I’m not a fucking fool.
“What’s happened?” I look straight at Echo.
“I need you and Blaze to go somewhere.”
Fuck. My entire body tenses immediately.
“Dante got in touch. They had to stop the shipment. It’s small, it’ll fit on a bike.”
“Okay, where is it?”
“An hour away. I’ll send Blaze the location. I need you to go because your brother will be there, and I think he prefers dealing with you.”
“Sure.” I stand up, but Echo raises a hand.
“Take the item out of the crate, then it will fit on the bike.”
I nod and follow Blaze out. “Did you know?” I ask him.
“I heard, but I didn’t know he wanted us to go.”
We climb on the bikes. An hour later, Blaze stops at a rundown warehouse on the edge of nowhere. We step inside. Crates are stacked everywhere, along the walls, covering most of the floor, piled high in corners.
“How do we know which one?” I ask, looking around.
“Probably the one that says Dylan,” Blaze says, chuckling. I glance where he’s pointing and see the crate with my name scrawled across it in black marker.
“Okay, help me.” I walk over and he helps pull the lid off. I move the random junk on top and reach inside.
A jacket?
“All this for a fucking jacket?” I ask, holding it up.
Blaze smirks. “Turn it around, Little Rabbit.”
I turn it over and freeze. My breath catches in my throat.
“W-w-what?”
“You’re officially patched in fully.” I stare at the name on the back. Rogue. Under it, in bold lettering, it says Blaze’s Bitch.
I have to laugh. A lot of people call me Rogue now, but I didn’t expect this.
“Why here?” I glance up at him, confused.
“Because when you got your prospect cut you left, and I made Echo aware I wanted to make sure you had no Siren to fucking run to this time.” He shoves me back against the wall and kisses me hard. Okay, so when I got the prospect cut I did run straight to Siren.
“Strip,” he orders, stepping back.
I swallow and look around the dusty warehouse. “No one will know, Dylan. It’s our warehouse. Now fucking strip.”
I follow his order, moving slowly and removing every piece of clothing while he watches. I end up standing completely naked in front of him. He groans, his eyes sweeping over my body like he’s memorizing every inch.
“Put on your cut, and get on my fucking bike.”
I reach out, grab the new cut, and slide it on over my bare skin.
I climb onto Blaze’s bike, the leather of the seat cool against my bare thighs. The new cut feels heavy on my shoulders, the only thing I’m wearing. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I’m completely exposed, naked except for the patch that says I belong to him.
Blaze steps up behind me. His big hand strokes slowly down my back, fingers tracing my spine. The touch is possessive, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver through me.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough against my ear. “Wearing nothing but my name on your back. Sitting on my bike like the perfect little slut you are.”
I swallow hard, my cock already hard and leaking against the bike. “Blaze…”
“Shh.” His hand slides lower, gripping my ass and spreading me open. I feel the thick head of his cock press against my hole, still slick from earlier. He doesn’t push in right away. He just rubs it there, teasing, letting me feel how hard he is.
“You’re going to take every inch like a good boy, aren’t you?” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “Gonna let me fuck you right here on my bike, wearing nothing but your cut.”
I nod frantically, pushing back against him. “Please…”
He chuckles darkly and finally pushes forward.
The head of his cock stretches me open, sliding in slowly.
I moan, gripping the handlebars tighter as he sinks deeper, filling me completely.
The position, sitting on the bike, legs spread, completely exposed, makes me feel filthy and vulnerable in the best way.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, bottoming out inside me. His hands grip my hips, holding me still. “Look at you, taking my cock so deep. Such a greedy little hole.”
He starts moving, slow, deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock over my prostate with every thrust. I whimper, pushing back against him, desperate for more.
“Blaze...p-please—harder—”
He stops completely, buried to the hilt. “Beg for it.”
I whine, trying to move, but his grip on my hips keeps me pinned. “Please f-fuck me. Please, I need it—”
“Not good enough.” He pulls out until just the head is inside me, then pushes back in agonizingly slow. “Tell me how badly you want my cock.”
“I need it,” I gasp, voice shaking. “I need you to fuck me hard. P-please, Blaze, I’ll be good.. I’ll do anything—”
He rewards me with a few hard thrusts, pounding into me deep and fast before stopping again. I cry out in frustration, cock leaking steadily onto the bike.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard your cock rubs against the seat until you cum on it,” he growls into my ear. “But only if you beg like the desperate little bitch you are.”
“Please,” I sob, completely broken. “Fuck me. Use me. I’m yours, I’m your bitch... please—”
He groans and starts fucking me properly, hard and relentless. The bike rocks beneath us with every brutal thrust. My cock drags against the cool metal of the seat with every movement, the friction driving me insane. I’m moaning loudly, completely lost in the feeling of him owning me.
“That’s it,” he snarls, one hand moving to twist my nipple hard. “Take my cock. Let everyone know who this ass belongs to.”
I’m shaking, whimpering, completely submissive under him. “Yours... it’s yours, please don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. He fucks me harder, faster, one hand reaching around to stroke me in time with his thrusts. I’m so close, so fucking close.
“Not yet,” he orders, pulling out completely again.
I whine loudly, hips chasing him desperately. “Blaze, p-please... I was so close—”
He spins me around on the seat so I’m facing him, then sinks back down onto his cock in one smooth motion. I cry out at the new angle, wrapping my arms around his neck as he starts fucking up into me.
“Look at me,” he demands. “Eyes on me while I fuck you.”
I obey, staring into his eyes as he pounds into me. His hands grip my ass, spreading me wider as he drives deep. Every thrust hits my prostate perfectly, making my cock rub against his stomach.
“You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, voice breaking. “I’m yours. Only yours—”
He kisses me hard, biting my lip as he fucks me faster. I’m so close again, whimpering into his mouth.
“Cum for me,” he orders. “Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are.”
I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me, spilling between us, painting his stomach. My hole clenches hard around him and he groans, thrusting deep one last time as he fills me up.
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing hard against each other.
“Mine,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
I’m always his. Nothing will ever change that.
Now that I’m patched in, we’re equals. It won’t always be him expected to carry us. We’ll carry each other.
I let my body relax completely against him, forehead resting on his shoulder as the aftershocks slowly fade. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
Is he serious? I pull back just enough to look at him. “Saving me. Making me accept the truth. Not giving up on me when I wanted to play it straight and be the perfect fucking heir.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Dylan.” His thumb brushes my cheek, eyes soft in a way only I ever get to see. “I was never going to give up. Even if you had married a woman. I’m stubborn like that.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Yeah… you are. But you’re my stubborn biker. You always will be now.”
He smiles, that rare, real smile that makes my chest feel too tight, and pulls me closer again. His arms wrap around me like he never plans to let go. I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, leather, sweat, and the faint scent of his shampoo.
It's... Home.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel weak.
I feel wanted. I feel strong. I feel like I finally belong somewhere.
And that somewhere is right here, on the back of his bike, wearing this cut, wrapped in his arms.