Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
November, The Ranch
Tate stretched out in a lawn chair, soaking in the sun with his sunglasses and new Michael Kors swim trunks on.
They had a cool tie-die looking stripped pattern and fit him better than most, hugging his ass a bit.
The hot New Mexico sun beat down on his bare chest. He loved the peacefulness here at Davey's estate that they called The Ranch.
They did not have livestock, unless you counted Tyler.
He chuckled softly at his own little inside joke, thinking he might use it later if he got the chance.
What Davey did have was a sprawling ranch-style house decorated to look like a Pueblo on the outside, but was modern and spacious on the inside and included multiple guest rooms, a full gym and sauna, and a completely decked out kitchen.
The huge pool and outside deck with a grill, where Davey was grilling up some chicken for lunch, made the outside even better.
The best part about The Ranch though, had to be Davey's track.
Yep, he had his own personal dirt track where he could practice and the three of them had been riding on it every day.
Tyler and Davey had their own bikes. They rode Kawasaki.
Tate had to have MSR ship his practice bike over.
Oz had not been extremely happy about it, but they knew two facts that they couldn't ignore.
The first was that it would be cheaper to train here with Davey than at the camp, because.
..free. And second, training with Davey made Tate better than if he trained alone.
Something about training with another rider always made Tate push harder, especially when that rider was Davey Mc-fucking-Allister.
Cold water splashed over his warm chest and thighs, making him jerk up to sitting.
He glared at Tyler who pulled his dripping wet body out of the pool.
Tyler was curvy in all the right places with rounded muscles defining his arms, a flat stomach, and thick thighs.
He looked even better than he had the last time Tate had been here.
Tyler smirked as he walked over, as if he knew what Tate had been thinking.
“Brat,” Tate called out.
“You know, Tate, I can get his number.” He flicked more cold water at Tate before grabbing a towel.
“I'm not calling him up like some stalker, dude.”
“I can't believe you guys didn't exchange numbers.” Tyler plopped down in a lawn chair beside him. “I thought it went well.”
Tate rolled his eyes, but Tyler probably couldn't see them behind his dark Ray-Bans. “Apparently, not that well.”
“You stayed the night in his hotel.”
Tate shrugged. “So? It just can't be more than that. Besides, if he really wanted to talk to me, he'd call here. He knows where I am.”
“So, maybe he doesn't want to call you up like some stalker.” Tyler snapped the towel at him. It made a snicking sound, but missed his leg by a hair.
Tate pushed his sunglasses up on his head to give Tyler the full effect of his glare, but before he could give him another smart-assed comment, Davey called out to them. “Come on you two. Foods on.”
Tyler practically cheered as he jumped up and headed to the table by the grill. Tate followed him over, thankful it had an umbrella to block the sun that he probably had already gotten too much of. Thank God for sunscreen.
Davey placed a platter of chicken breasts, grilled to perfection, on the table and Tyler speared one popping it on Tate's plate and then went back for his own. Davey sat beside him and looked over at Tate. “Hey, man. Don't listen to this guy. He knows nothing about pursuing a man.”
“And you do?” Tyler asked, plopping a third breast onto Davey's plate.
“I got you didn't I?”
Tyler scoffed at that. “Seriously, Tate. You probably shouldn't listen to either of us. I don't know how we finally ended up together. Hell, we managed to fuck this up three ways to Sunday before getting it right.”
Tate swallowed his chicken and took a swig of water.
His friends made a cute couple and he could not imagine them not being together.
He knew he wanted something like that too, but they had been lucky and if Tyler wasn't in the same industry, they probably wouldn't have worked out with Davey’s crazy Supercross schedule.
“It's different with Pilot. He may be working for you now, but he's not Supercross. He doesn't get it and he's not going to just traipse all over the country with me. Hell, I don't know when I'll ever see him again.”
“I do,” Tyler said. “January in Anaheim for the opener. He's going to be with us the entire season.”
“Huh. Well.” Tate didn't know what to say to that.
He'd been hoping to hear it, though he wasn't going to ask.
He wanted more of Pilot, but it was dangerous.
He'd already spent the entire plane trip from the X-TS Event to the Four Corners airport bawling his eyes out. When Pilot had dropped him off at his hotel and kissed him goodbye, it really was goodbye and it broke his heart. He’d let himself want too much, too fast, and they both knew better.
They couldn't have more. It wasn't practical.
Pilot had his own life back in Colorado and Tate. ..he had no life, just Supercross.
He cut off another piece of chicken and stabbed it with his fork. Suddenly, the meat tasted dry.
He saw Davey nudge Tyler with his shoulder. “Leave it alone, Ty,” he said softly, adding one more thing for Tate to be grateful to the man for.
Silence surrounded them as they ate for a few minutes, giving Tate time to shake it off. He refused to think about Pilot, or anyone or anything else that made him unhappy. “Hey, so, thanks for letting me stay here awhile. I, uh, appreciate it. So, like, yeah. Thanks.”
Tyler knocked his knee against his, but Davey answered. “Hey, we like having you here, Tate. Training with you is better than training alone.” He shrugged and stuffed chicken in his mouth.
“So, what are you doing for the holidays, Tate?” Tyler asked.
Tate wished he hadn't asked. He had no idea. He shrugged and ate the last piece of chicken on his plate. Before he had time finish chewing, Tyler asked him if he wanted more.
“No, thanks. I think I want to get a nap in, before we head to the track this afternoon.”
They let him drop the subject, thankfully.
What he owed these two seemed to be mounting by the minute.
He helped the guys clean up before heading to the guest room where he lay on the bed staring at the smooth plaster ceiling.
He needed to do something about his lonely life.
Maybe he could get a rent boy and a hotel room from Christmas to New Years.
That's when he heard noises coming from the living room.
Grunting and what? Was that squeak from Tyler?
He got up and quietly opened the door. He couldn't see the living room from where his room was, so he crept down the hall.
Before he got to the end, he heard more noises.
Definitely sex noises. A clear cry of, “More!” That had been Tyler.
More grunting and a shushing noise. They were trying to be quiet, but they weren't. They were fucking in the living room.
Tate turned around and rubbed his hands over his face as he went straight back to his room and shut the door. Carefully. He didn't want them to know he'd heard.
Damn! His friends were so hot and he could imagine what he'd heard but not seen. Davey plowing into Tyler, if he'd gotten the sounds right. His cock plumped up, tenting his swim trunks. He dropped them to the floor and crawled up on his mattress.
Lucky Tyler.
Tate stroked his cock, base to tip, remembering Pilot plowing into his ass.
It had been simply scrumptious. He still couldn't believe the amazing sex they'd had.
Fucking, jacking off together. Tate had woken up to those sexy lips on his cock.
The man had his mouth on every inch of Tate, including his tongue in Tate's ass, which might have been the best part.
After some slow teasing, Pilot had fucked Tate again that morning. Pilot tossed him around like his own personal toy, and Tate had loved every minute of it. Pilot brought out a different, more playful side of Tate that even he hadn’t really known he’d had, but he liked it. Maybe too much.
He had enjoyed Pilot lifting Tate's hips off the bed so high, his knees had left the mattress. Then, Pilot stood beside the bed and fucked him senseless. Tate’s hands had gripped the mattress, merely for balance, until he had come—like lighting.
The memory alone overwhelmed him, and Tate rolled to his side and grabbed the hand lotion off the nightstand, squirting it in his hand.
Thinking about Pilot made his cock even harder.
He'd never deny wanting Pilot, wanting him to fuck him again and again. He hadn't wanted the night to end. The memories would have to last a lifetime. Even if they saw each other again at the racetrack, they probably wouldn’t get together again. It’d been a onetime deal for sure.
His cock demanded he not think about that.
Instead, he thought about what they'd already done.
Pilot face-fucking him, rimming him. Tate's hands all over his chest and arms, his tongue licking that tattoo on his chest. Tate groaned and stroked his cock faster.
He grabbed his balls and tugged with his other hand.
It wasn't enough. Turning over, he got on his hands and knees and imagined Pilot fucking him again, as he jacked off.
More grunting came from down the hall, and he swore he heard the couch move across the floor. He almost laughed, but the image of Davey fucking Tyler that hard, had him finally shooting off all over his hand and the bed. Damn, now he'd have to wash the sheets.